Smarties

Don't you just love those pressed powder candies?

Actually, I'm speaking of #7 he was so proud of himself and his growing knowledge the other day. It went something like this.

#7: Mom, is this my right foot for this shoe?

Boy Mom: Hooray! You got it right.

#7: Whew, I'm so happy I finally learned which is my right foots for my shoes. Kenneth (his cousin in the same kindergarten class) has a ring on his hand so he knows which is his, uhh, Pledge of Allegiance hand (he puts his right hand over his heart).

Boy Mom: That's a good trick for remembering your RIGHT hand (note the subtle teaching moment).

#7 : Yeah, Kenneth knows where his right (?) hand is (as he holds his right hand out somewhat confidently) and where his (nose and forehead wrinkle in thought as he looks at his other hand) umm, other hand is (he concludes with a proud smile as he holds out his left hand).

Yep, he's a smarty that #7 of mine.

McFession

I'm letting you in on a naughty little secret. It's been going on a long time, this lusty appetite of mine. I know it's wrong I try to be strong I'm a good girl for a month or two then it happens, across the intersection or occasionally just inside the door of Wal-mart, golden arches that speak to me of fishy goodness.

Lean into the screen. I'm going to say this quietly

I really, really like McDonald's Filet-O-fish sandwiches, really.

There, it's out there for all to know. Judge me if you must.

Filet-O-Fish and I have been going on for years. Whenever I break up with a current food crush, Filet-O-Fish is there for me, Filet and his buddy McDonalds fries(which everyone knows are the best fries).

Filet has been comfort food of choice for many a stressful time. Morning sickness= Filet-O-Fish sans tarter sauce. Trying to go off sugar, yet again= Filet-O-Fish no fries, delusional I know. Reaallly bad trip with two sons to the dentist= Filet-O-Fish for Boy Mom, milk shakes for numb face boys.

Today the unthinkable happened. I cheated. I was at Wendy's didn't see it coming just, BAM, can I have two Frosty's and a Fish Sandwich meal. I didn't even like it. No slice of American cheese product. And lettuce... come on, who puts lettuce on a fish sandwich? I barely noticed that the fish was tender flaky and well, fishy.

I've been guilty all afternoon.

Filet-O-Fish will probably take me back, that's his way; but, I fear this little Wendy's fish sandwich fling will always be there between us, a little.

Stranger Danger, Pshaw

I talk to strangers!

Door to door sales persons,? Moms at the park? The guy returning from a beer tasting tour to Mexico? He was cool, drove a snowplow that cleans off runways at the airport (naughty shiver). Doesn't matter, if I've never met you and you have the misfortune of sitting next to me on an airplane or try selling me magazines, beware.

I love long, chatty conversations with strangers, I'll find out where they have lived, if they are married, how many children, their favorite color, long and short term goals.

I Offer advice, encouragement, meals, lemonade, starts from my flower beds, restroom visits. I even once gave some recipes to a former gang member who was brought straight from South Central LA to sell magazines in my middle class neighborhood. What? He said his life long goal, was to own a bakery.

Strangely, I rarely if ever buy what they're selling. I think a few have even forgotten why they were there after a hot meal and a long chat.

At work I feel compelled to say a cheery hello to everyone who comes into the office. It bothers me to see a printer serviceman working on the printer as office conversations go on around him. It seems so lonely. So I chat! Anyone want to buy some acreage in Idaho, I know a printer serviceman who is selling.

I'm not really picky about the type of stranger either. I love finding out that someone just got out of prison, what they were locked up for and their plans for the rest of their life or until their next parole hearing.

Old people are some of my favorites, take my across the street neighbor Oral for example, she and I are strangers every time we meet. Thanks to dementia or maybe it's Alzheimer's, every conversation is unforgettable,well for me anyway.

This morning, however, was the Holy Grail of stranger conversations. Not that I haven't spoken with this type of stranger before, it's just that this time my stranger conversation skills have developed to the point that I could ask what I really wanted to know and get answers. Yes my stranger skills are developing I fully expect to end up getting kicked out of several old folks homes for my skills with strangers.

This morning a Jehovah's Witness knocked on my door. I've always wanted to ask what the purpose of their visits are, so I asked. I've always wanted to know if they are looking for converts, so I asked. I've always wanted to know how they are received in haUt (secret code for the state I live in) so I asked. I've always wanted to know why the focus on negativity and calamity, so I asked.

Loved this conversation, loved chatting, finding out where he was from, how long he been a missionary. I managed to control my compulsion to invite him and the five or six of his companions that ended up milling about across the street waiting for us to finish chatting, in for some breakfast and more stranger talk.

So, am I just an amazing living example of, "When saw I thee a stranger...." or do I need therapy?

Don't answer that!

Ahh Spring!

I wore a cute floral skirt, a pretty white blouse and sandals to work today. What? It was not either because I haven't done any laundry for a week-and-a-half.

I bought kites on Saturday. I promised the little ones I would take them kite flying on Monday.

I invited friends to meet at the park for Spring kite flying and malts when we were through.

I bought extra kite string.

I made a quick dinner despite darkening skies, I've read The Secret, I know that if I believe hard enough anything can happen.

I threw on Capri's and sandals, we hurried through sprinkles of rain to our kite flying spot.

The rain came down harder. "It's watering the tulips" I reassured my shivering, coat wearing boys.

We assembled our kite. I might have let a little wish for gloves and a stocking hat slip into my mind.

#5 ran to the car for a blanket.

We tossed our kite in the air, it soared, it tumbled, we shouted for shivering joy. It nose dived hard. #6 slipped on the icy pellets that weren't really trying to pass themselves off as spring showers any longer, he landed on our kite.

We ran for the car, turned on the heater, I suggested hot chocolate instead of malts.

Spring, you fickle temptress, I love ya!

A Post

Wow, I'm up at 5:30 AM blogging. Actually I'm procrastinating another project.

Weird, I feel chubby and embarrassed, like the first time back to the gym in several months. "Please no one look at the chubby, gray sweats clad, huffing and puffing blogger on the corner treadmill!"

A few random notes.

Only 5 weeks until #1 leaves for his LDS mission. We're guessing that he'll be speaking in church on Mothers Day Sunday. Mixed feelings about that.

Spring break is over. Mixed feelings about that.

I am aching to get out in the yard and lose myself in my flower beds.

I've finally come to the full realization that children lower your IQ. More on that soon.

I'm off sugar and on exercise. Time to let go of some bad habits that have crept back into my life. Sigh! Thanks to some motivating friends.

Good to be back.