Hot Boots, Fat Calves, and Christeve

Fat Calves and Hot Boots. They only time they work together is in that sentence I just wrote.

Not on a body. Just in words.

I just had some Hot Boots delivered from Mod Cloth. I am a Mod Clothaholic. Here are said Hot Boots of which are longer in stock because I got one of the last pair:

*sizzle* and there will be NO pictures of my calves thankyouverymuch!

They are NOT leather, but they are affordable. And you don’t say ‘man-made’ anymore. That is sooo 2010. You say ‘Vegan’ because yes they are delicious and no animals were injured in the making of these boots.

But men’s hearts will break when they see me in these boots, thus sustaining injury.

If only I could get them on.

The laces that I were counting on for some ‘give’ are merely decor. When I realized this I panicked a little A LOT! I put them on and



Dang. Stoppage. Right about mid calf. They were on but they had a slouch look to them. And that is so 2000whatever. I wanted to wear them over jeans and that just ain’t happening. I can’t wear them over tights, or skin no less.

So I went online to see if I could chat with someone at Mod Cloth about my predicament. Now, I am no stranger to online customer service encounters, but what I got this time threw me for a loop.

The name of the person with whom I would be chatting with was Christine, but the image of this person screamed STEVE. How was I supposed to tell Christeve about my fat calves? So this is how I handled it. (click the picture to read it if you are over 40, makes it bigger)

Now I’m pretty sure that I’m chatting with a woman, if only she would complain about her fat calves…………

I probably will keep the Hot Boots. I will try to make them stretch a bit. If not.. they are an 8 1/2, so if one of you skinny calved little @#*! want them let me know.

These boots DO fit! And you know I’ve needed some red boots for a very long time. Christeve thought they were awesome too.


So I may have Fred Flinstone legs, but I’ve got Wilma’s style!


Vlog Response to Jenny. I don’t have an accent, y’all.

So.. it is very late at night on a very fun but long day and I got to hang out with Jenny for a good chunk of it.  I figured I would go check out her most recent Vlog because I just can get enough of the funny girl. You totally know what I’m talking about, you feel the same way don’t you?

So here’s the link to Jenny’s Vlog about the whether or not one might have an accent as determined by saying aloud certain words.  Some catchy ones:

Aunt, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught

And then there’s the list of questions you must answer:

What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball?
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
What do you call gym shoes?
What do you say to address a group of people?
What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
What do you call your grandparents?
What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
What is the thing you use to change the TV channel?

Now.. remember I said I was tired. And my hair is a bit fuzzed out.  But I’m too tired to give a rip about vanity, so here’s how it went for me:

Again.. was very late and very fuzzy!

The many uses of Spanxs….

If you are a woman over 30, which I am just barely (sha!), you probably own a pair of Spanx or some other kind of “Body Shaper.”  Smooths out your curves, or your fawhumpawhumps, as I lovingly call them.  Sometimes my curves misplace themselves and if I wrangle myself into throw on a pair of Spanxs my ghetto booty is lookin just right.

Yes, I said ghetto booty. There is even a group on Facebook I recently joined thanks Jennyonthespot, that is dedicated to the white girls with ghetto booties.  Fa Reals.  If you’ve seen me, you know I have one.  It is a blessing and a curse, depending on my mood (cha cha cha!).

BUTT….back to the Spanxs.  Besides being the curvy gal that I am, I am also wife and mother.  One day my son decides to dress up as a ninja, cuz like, he’s a little boy, and he’s part I figure its gotta be genetic somehow.  He’s put a pair of his sister’s tights on his head and has mummified his face with the legs.  But the tights were TIGHT, right?  His already Asian eyes were stretched to slits…. he looked uncomfortable.  So, using his creative idea, I grabbed my Spanx and but them on his head and tucked them around his cute little face.  Much better, and wicked cute.  See:

Wee little Ninja!

I know.. he is adorable and you can only see his eyes.

Last night we had Gourmet Dinner Club, and the theme was Rockband Party.  We made our delicious dishes, and all arrived in costume, from glam rocker to gangsta rapper.  Mark, my hubby, is not one for dressing up in costumes, unlike his wife who plots a different persona each day, party or no party!  I insisted he play along.  His options were Twisted Sister (I borrowed a wig) or gangsta rapper.  He refused to wear make-up, so, I looked up some pictures of Snoop Dog, and Ludacris, and quickly pieced together his outfit.  The topper… my Spanx in a doo-rag.  Total success, don’t you agree?

Gangsta Man

Fo Shizzle, right? Yep… he even had a fake tattoo.  I told him he pretty much needs to get one, for me at least.  I think they are hawt.  He’s not into it, much like the not wearing cologne, but a girl’s gotta keep trying right?

What other fine uses have you used for your Spanx, ladies?

My FAVORITE Magazine is………..



Their tagline is “for intelligent optimists.”  Like.. duh!  That is so me, I think…….

Actually I do have a serious side.  This is the best magazine I’ve seen.  Sure.. I also get Cottage Living, and BHG,  Country Home, Family Fun…..oh and Newsweek (thanks Mom and Dad.)  But Ode is the one I READ.  Page after page after  ever-lovin page.  It is the one I buy for friends (Dave) and family ( Mom and Dad).  I even bought it for work to keep in our faculty lounge to inspire our fabulous teachers, not that they need it because the ooze intelligent optimism.

It is filled with hope. Chock full of it.  You don’t even know how addicting HOPE can be.  My December issue just came today…. and as I am thinking of what a bleak Christmas we will have.. with two mortgages on our backs and the fear of the recession on its way… is rejoicing in the recession.

What?  Why?!  Because they are HOPEFUL that it will reshape our priorities.  It will replace the greed driven capitalism of the US and UK with one that balances human needs with economics.  There are several articles that speak to the opportunity for the right kind of change.  Whew!

And there article about health, spirituality, books, news and just plain life.  It is so great!  Please check it out… Please!  It is so good for you!

I am so happy. I am just so happy.

I truly believe that Barack Obama is the change this country needs.  He will be EVERYONE’s president.   Doubters…. just be patient, watch with an open mind and heart and by golly, roll up your sleeves with me and lets help him get the work done!  He wants and needs are help.

I am sort of lost for words here tonight.  I’m so proud of this country.  I’m so proud of the young people in this country turning out to vote in astonishing numbers.  I really feel that Obama is the face of modern America, and that he will be able to unify our country.  He is in it for ALL of us.

Ok.. here’s my happy family.  I’m going to go crawl into bed, wearing my Obama shirt, and cry happy tears to sleep.  Bless you all!



So the other day my family went on an little afternoon excursion to the Ryan Ranch in Poulsbo.  We purchased at a school auction, a day on the ranch to be ended with a cowboy BBQ!  Who wouldn’t want to do that?!?!?

I loved horses as a kid.  Never did much riding, but loved horses.  Had a pony for a while named Nugget, but she had the “founder” and such was that I could not ride her.  But we had good times, and I brushed her a lot.

Ruby is now 8, and loves horses too.  I knew this would be a fun thing for her, and likely the whole family.  It really was!  And my kin have mad riding skilz!  Not so much me.. awkward and scared on a horse.  They smell fear I swear!  But Mark.. I hate how he is so good at stuff he has hardly ever done.  River and Ruby both were very brave and did so great for first time riders!  We are definately doing horse camp next year.

I’m tired. So not so much funny.  But I just wanted to write anyway.  Deal with it.

Here’s some photos of our day at the ranch:

Ruby is riding Miss Molly, and was trotting with no problem!  She was even thinking she was ready to take the pony over a jump!  Bold!

River rode Honey Buns.. a very sweet buckskin.  Brave little dude.

Yeah, whatever.. you can just hop on a horse and look like a pro Mark.

I was in the equestrian challenged category.

Aren’t we cute though?  But.. why does my horse have such a wide stance?  Could it be….

Um, does this horses butt make my butt look big?

Giddyup people!

Viewer Discretion Advised….

This blog is rated G.  G for GROSS.

Oh my heck.  You guys will not dig this.  This is gross.  So if you can’t stomach gross, today’s blog is not for you.  I, being the fabulous red headed freckly cutie pie that I am, happen to be subject to……skin cancer screenings.  Yeah.. I know…go in once a year, get my epiderm looked over by my Dr. Derm, get an all clear and off I go, till next year.   But this year I had this cranky “mole” on the back side of my upper arm.  Moles are really freckles with ugly egos, and this one was a little reddish, itchy, looking to start sumtin.  So I go in.. and she’s cut out of my arm.  Sent off to a lab only to be called “not cancer…but not normal.”

She was like pre-pre-cancer.  Like, one day I forgot the sunblock and she was all…”no you di’nt.  I’ll show you… I can start sumtin.”  Ha… I’m like, ” Ya think?  I’ll cut your sorry red scratchy ass right off my arm B’atch.  Now who’s laughing?…ain’t me.

Turns out.. her abnormal nature required (even with a 2nd opinion) that the area in which “said b’atch” resided needs to be removed as well.  HUH?  Cut up my arm some more?  Alternative…potential death.  Ok.. bring on the knife.  I am a cheerful patient.  My sweet Dr. kept saying how sorry she was that there was going to be a scar… longish, scar.  So apologetic.  I was like, “Gosh, do I look vain?  Really?”  Then I said..sista…best you check out my ankle.  Scars don’t scare me…that mother is FIVE FRANKENSTIEN inches long with screws.  Fa real.

Now… I really could care less how big this scar is.  She had to go deep too.  My arms are fine.. Not my “problem” area.   I would have liked it more if I had to have this done to say… stomach.  That was the cut.  you know.. like tummy tuck on the back of my arm.  But here’s the thing, within 24 hours it is infected.

Dammit!  It HURTS.  It ITCHES!  It is SWOLLEN! It made a grown man turn and squirm!  Wanna see it?

This picture was at about 10 in the morning today, one day after surgery.  Now.. it is freakishly puffy, horribly reddish, and unbelievably itchy.  I saw Dr. Derm again this afternoon in a panic and she confirmed it was infuckted.  Taking antibiotics now.  Hope it gets better before it gets worse.

You wanna know what kind of mom I am?  Sick in the head.  Last night, when it was hurting, I tucked my whole arm inside my shirt and went to give my kids the “one armed Mama” hug.  This is what mama would look like without her arm.

True, sick huh.  But my kids get me and we all laughed and hugged with the one arm pat on the back.

Sorry if I made you spew. Hope I made you laugh.  Now….. go get your skin checked. You don’t want to mess with the Melanoma stuff!  A scar is so much better than the alternative, right?