All I Need Is A Miracle

Last night, I prayed. Not just any prayer, but I prayed for a miracle. Miracles are pretty tall orders, prayer-wise. And let's be perfectly frank here, I'm no Mother Teresa, so me asking God for a miracle was a pretty ballsy move on my part.

And yet...I still prayed.

I wasn't specific in my miracle request. In fact, my prayer was simply that I needed help. I needed a miracle.

Guess what?

I got it. 

I was on the phone with the Financial Aid Office of Russell's College, expecting yet another rejection, and the unthinkable happened. 

Not only did they find scholarship money for Russell, it was enough to pay for his entire first semester of classes, and part of the second semester. 

It was a simple prayer, and it was answered beyond my wildest dreams.

I am blessed (and relieved) beyond belief....and I most definitely believe in miracles.

Sometimes, you just gotta say....

There are movies that I have watched so many times, I can quote them ad nauseum. "Risky Business" is one of them.

I was sitting here stewing about a trivial matter today, and all of a sudden, this quote popped into my head: "Joel, you wanna know something? Every now and then say, "What the f**k." "What the f**k" gives you freedom. Freedom brings opportunity. Opportunity makes your future."

Rather than getting my knickers in a twist about something I know I can't change, I just need to let it go.  This is no easy feat for me. I am, after all, the Queen of the Grudge holders. 

So, here goes. 

Today, I say WTF.

...And I feel very, very free.

Blew out my flip-flops

I have a problem. I hate wearing shoes. I have an even bigger problem. I love buying shoes. If I had my choice, I'd be barefoot or in flip-flops all year long. And yet, the bottom of my closet is littered with shoes (well, the ones JoJo hasn't demolished, anyway).

I've got sneakers, hiking boots, my three (ugh, two pair, thanks JoJo) beloved pair of Doc Martens, flip-flops, various high heels, but the crown jewel in my collection is a pair of Naughty Monkey pumps. You've probably never heard of the brand. They're not like Jimmy Choos or Manolos. I first heard of the brand in the most unlikely of places...a Washington Post article about a then unknown Governor of a little state called Alaska.

Yup.

The Post analyzed her outfit down to her sassy peep-toe kick ass red pump. I was intrigued. I had never seen a pair of shoes like them...plus, come on, the name was too funny to not investigate. So, I googled the name, and the angels sang and the clouds parted. It was sassy shoe nirvana. Page after page of cute shoes....with 3-5 inch heels.

Did I mention how much I hate wearing shoes? But these were just irresistible. I had to have a pair.

So, I went online and bought some.  And they are totally and completely  impractical. The heel is four inches high...and they are hot pink and black, and I loooooooooooove them. And I've had them for two years, and I haven't worn them once.

Not. once.

I'm afraid I will fall and break my ankle.

Have I mentioned my irrational fear of falling before? It's not like my TOTALLY rational fear of birds. Birds are evil creatures just waiting to peck your eyes out or poop on you. Really, that's all they were put on the planet to do.

Anyway...my fear of falling is totally irrational. I can walk for days, weeks, even months without falling (yeah, I know....totally jinxed myself). And seriously, for the money I spent on the shoes, I should be wearing them everyday, plus sleeping in them.

And yet, they sit still in their original box, out of JoJo's reach in the top of my closet.

They're safer there.

And so are my ankles.

For now.

Hold me closer, Tony Danza

I have a confession to make....

I am tragically uncool.

I am sure this comes as a surprise to no-one.

I have strived for at least a modicum of cool-ness in my life, but alas, I keep falling short.

I can't even blame it on Michael Buble, as much as I wanted to. No, it goes back further than that. There have been songs with lyrics no-one can understand (see: Louie, Louie), and there have been songs with lyrics that are mis-understood (see: Tiny Dancer). In fact, there is a website dedicated to the topic: http://www.kissthisguy.com/

I tee-totally butchered one line from a song....for well over a decade. Luckily, I never sang the mangled lyric in front of anyone, and until now, I have never spoken of it. I am baring my soul in the hopes that it will prevent y'all from making a similar mistake with a different song. I am quite certain that I am the only person on the face of the planet to hear what I thought I did. Even as I sang the words, I knew they sounded odd.

So, here goes.... the song? Anthrax's "Bring the Noise."

The proper lyrics:

Bass!
How low can you go?
Death row, what a brother knows 

What I sang:

Bass!
How low can you go?
Death row, water buffalo

Yup. I honest to God thought they said "water buffalo."

I'll let that sink in for a minute.

Water.buffalo.

Yup. That's pretty bad.

I have come to the conclusion that being cool is over-rated. It's very easy to come to that conclusion when you realize that you will never be cool. Especially when you think Anthrax is singing about water buffalo.

Bring the noise, indeed.

The horror of it all

I believe my love of music has been pretty well documented. I am by no means an expert, but I do know what I like, and it's a fairly eclectic catalog.

I also know what I don't like (see: AC/DC). There are singers that I don't listen to, and I will, in fact, turn the station if I hear them on the radio (Josh Groban is at the top of that list). When the radio stations start playing Christmas Music, I know it will be a Josh Groban-athon, and that just about turns my stomach (oh, and on that note - I'm so punny- the radio stations should be switching to 24 hour Christmas music in two weeks. Yippee!).

Usually, I can tell after one or two songs that I am not going to like an artist. So here's my conundrum...I had heard a song on the radio several times, and I really liked it. I never managed to catch the name of the artist, and honestly, by the time I got home, I had forgotten the lyrics of the song, or even that I wanted to find out who sang it. It was one of those kinds of songs.

Fun, catchy, light....but totally forgettable (as Jason would point out, that summarizes 99.9% of the 80's music I love). 

You have to imagine my shock and dismay when I got into the car, and it came on the radio. The DJ announced the artist, and it was Michael Buble. Seriously? I have avoided getting sucked into the Clay Aiken/Josh Groban/Adult Contemporary Singer du jour vortex for goodness sake, and I now find myself singing along to Michael Flippin' Buble.

How far the mighty has fallen.

Hmmmm....I wonder if *he* has a Christmas album out....

When 2+2=20

Math is not my strong suit by any means, but even I know that 20 > 2.

Now, my four indians obviously outnumber Jason and I, but since Jason & I have two hands,  4 = 4. We may be outnumbered, but we still have enough hands to cover zone defense when needed.

It was announced on the Today Show this morning that the Duggar Family is expecting their 20th child. If you live under a rock and don't know who the family is, they  have a tv show on TLC. Unlike the Gosselin Family (Jon & Kate + 8), the Duggars are making babies the old fashioned way, and obviously, they are pretty darn good at it. Another difference is that the tv show is not the Duggar's sole means of support. For goodness sake, they even built the house they are living in themselves!

Paige is a huge fan of the show, so I confess that I know more about the Duggars than I really needed or wanted to. And of course, I have opinions on the family. LOTS of them.

#1. They are bat guano crazy. I love babies. I do. You put me in a room with a baby, and I will find a way to hold the baby, and keep holding the baby and not share. However, if I had a baby every 18 months for 20+ years, I would be so sleep deprived, that I would end up with 20 kids...and a padded room in the loony bin. This mama needs sleep.

#2. The irony is not lost on me. The family is very conservative, and they don't allow kids to watch tv, but the kids are ON tv. The older kids (and JimBob &Michelle) also have iPhones.

#3. The doctors who haven't told her to quit having babies should be strung up. I don't care what your religious views are, there comes a point when the mother's health & well-being must come first.

#4. There is not enough time in the day. I have four children. There are days when I want a clone just for driving to get the kids where they need to be. And laundry? I do five loads a day usually. I cannot even begin to fathom the amounts of laundry that 20 kids generate. Even with the extra washers & dryers the Duggars have, it must take freakin' for-EVAH to get it done.

#5. Better them than me. I hope that Michelle has a totally uneventful and smooth pregnancy and that baby #20 is a healthy little bundle of joy...oh wait, they already have a child named Joy...ummm....bundle of joviality. Is that a word? Well, it is now, and I guess it's also a contender for the 20th "J" name they have to come up with.

Beggars

JoJo is a world class beggar. At dinner time, she sits next to me, and if I don't toss her a treat, she scoots closer and closer to me until she is close enough to head butt me. If that fails, she moves around the table to the kids and does the same thing. 

Last night, Paige gave JoJo some scraps. After dinner was finished, JoJo wanted to go outside to stalk our neighbor. When she started to bark, I called her to come inside. I know you will be shocked to hear this, but she didn't listen to me.

Cameron stood up, went to the door, and yelled, "JoJo! Steak!"

Wouldn't you know it, the dog stopped dead in her tracks, stopped barking and came running into the house looking for steak.

After we stopped howling with laughter, Jason gave her a piece.

I swear, she looked positively smug.

Steak obviously tastes better than my shoes.