is that when they crucify you?

So my friend's blog the other day had a funny post about her youngest daughter, age 5, who, when asked "Who is Jesus?" replied, "I don't know."

So I commented that my superfrykid and I were talking about people getting baptized, and I asked her what that means and she said, "Is that when they crucify you?"

Clearly, there is work to be done here in the spiritual teaching of our children.

Anyway, you can read the whole thing over at Simply Us. 

And also, her blog contains a picture of the aforementioned 5 year old that kind of looks like Flava Flav.  (disclaimer: the 5 year old does not know who Flava Flav is either.)

you too can fart like a machine gun

My sister, Pee (yes, it's her real nickname in real life), is skinny.  I am not. 

She purchased a DVD set off of an infomercial and then called to tell me that she would copy a set for me so we could do it together.  Talk about a subtle hint. 

The DVD set is called TurboFire.  I thought she was kidding.  It sounds like a type of bad diarrhea or something.

My guess is that it's kind of like P90X, which I tried a couple of times.  Banana.....superman....banana....superman.  Not for me.
I'm more like eggplant, unicorn.  (The eggplant is b/c a banana curves up at both ends and my banana roll is more like an eggplant, kind of lumpy at the bottom.  The unicorn is b/c when I try to do superman, I just lay on my stomach and point my finger out from my forehead.  Full extension is just not possible.)  If you don't know what banana & superman are, they are exercises in P90X.  Google it if you still don't get it, or just skip this little part and move on, it really isn't necessary to get what I'm trying to say.

Anyway, back to TurboFire. I really did think she was kidding when she told me what it was called.  Then one night I was watching TV and what came on but an infomercial for Ripfire.  Ripfire is a muscle building supplement.  I assume TurboFire and RipFire go together, since they both have annoying names that sound like they will make you poop your pants or fart like a machine gun.

So what I'm hearing in my head is an infomercial voice saying "you too can fart like a machine gun with Ripfire....only $19.95 plus shipping and handling."

I guess if TurboFire really did make you have some kind of crazy diarrhea, you might lose weight.  They should market it to people who hate to exercise...."Poop yourself skinny with TurboFire!  Easier than actually exercising."

I love you my sister, even if you do buy stuff off of infomercials.  When you are done with it, you can sell it on Craigslist.

not getting stabbed is always a plus

My sister, Pee (yes, this is her real nickname - don't ask) and her husband (I'm thinking his pseudo-name should be SonofaDutch, but I'm not sure that does him justice because it sounds kind of bad & he's actually quite nice.  If you know him, you'd get it.  If you don't, just laugh & picture him however you want.) and their delightful 8 month old daughter are getting ready to move. 

I guess people nowadays don't have moving sales.  They just put their stuff on Craigslist.  Craigslist is like a yard sale without the awkwardness of sitting around trying to not watch people judge your stuff.

I myself have never used Craigslist.  However, my sister and her hubby have had great success with selling some of their furniture.  In fact, I spoke to SonofaDutch on the phone today & he mentioned that they just sold their very large sectional couch for a really good price.  I said something like, "That's great!  Craigslist has really been working for you guys.  You have gotten all cash buyers and no Craigslist killers."

To which SonofaDutch replied, "Yes, Craigslist is great, and not getting stabbed is always a plus."

Not getting stabbed is always a plus. 

I like that phrase, because it's always true in pretty much any circumstance.  I'm trying to think of a time when getting stabbed would be a plus, and I can't come up with anything.

Yes, I must say, not getting stabbed is always a plus.  (But I'm also probably never going to use Craigslist because I can't say it without following it up with the word "killer".)

bad names

Ever noticed that there are some names that immediately indicate that a person is a problem person for you?  I have a short list of names that I know are "bad names" for me. 

What I mean is, I can see a kid throwing a fit in a grocery store, and when the mother calls him by name I think to myself, "figures, he's a Zachary".  Zachary, of course, is just an example.  I can't name real names here because then people would know what my "bad names" are.

I don't necessarily mean that all people named "whatever" are bad.  I just mean that there are certain names that you come across where you know the person is destined to be distasteful to you in some way. 

My sister and I share this theory.  She is a teacher and has a few names that she's come across over the years which never pan out to be good.  Now and then you'll get an exception to the rule.  But even then, it's hard to get over my self-imposed "yucks" over certain names.

I myself have one of these names.  I can't say I've ever met another person who shares my first name that I like.  What does that say about me?  Am I a Zachary?  (Yes, Zachary is on the list, I admit.  But I do happen to know a few exceptions, so it's all good.)

And aren't there statistics about criminals having certain "yuck-o" names?  Like if your name is something ugly, you don't like yourself and it causes you to become a criminal?  I don't know if that's really true or not, but it popped in my brain so I typed it.

The name I always wondered about is Rahab.  Nobody names their daughter Rahab.  Why? 

I think its because most people associate her with being a prostitute.  Well, I don't think, I'm pretty sure I know that's why.  I mean, who would do that?  However, she is listed in Hebrews 11, so I think if God sees her as an example of faith, wouldn't more people be inclined to name their children Rahab?  I mean there are tons of girls named Sarah.  I always thought Sarah was kind of a smart-aleck for laughing while she was eavesdropping, and she was kind of two faced with the whole Hagar thing.

Anyway, I think Rahab should come back in style for names.

Maybe I just talked myself out of the whole bad name list.  Rahab should not be on it and maybe there are other names who don't deserve it either (like Zachary....unless it's spelled Zackari or something like that.  You know it's bad when you have a silly spelling for no reason.)

a zit with attitude

I hate it when you get a pimple inside your ear or inside your nose.  They are the worst.
A pimple on the outside of your nose or on your chin is bad enough.  Everyone can see it and there's not much you can do about it until it heals. 

But an inner ear or inner nose pimple is another story. 

It's like it has to make up for not being visible.  Like a zit with attitude.

"Hey, I'm here and nobody knows it but you, so I'm gonna make you miserable by painfully throbbing instead of publicly humiliating you with my ugliness."

It's like, really?  I mean it's bad enough that I am more than double the age of the average teenager and still have to worry about pimples.  But zits with attitude?  ugh.

piles of....

Grass.  We have piles of grass in our yard. 

Here's what happens:

We wait too long to mow our grass. 

When we DO mow our grass, it needs to be raked.  (We don't have a bagger and we have a pretty big front and back yard.)

Let me just insert here that I am not an outdoors person.  I don't like to be outside.  Frydaddy mows the grass around here.  However, once in awhile, I will don my old sneakers and inform him that I will mow.   With the riding mower, of course.  And only if he gets it out of the barn, parks it in front of the steps and leaves it running so I can jump on and go.

Anyway, back to the piles. 

We wait too long, then it needs to be raked, then the piles need to be collected and thrown over the fence.  Usually frydaddy does all of this by himself, plus the weed whacking. 

A few weeks ago, I decided to be superfrymomma and I mowed while he weed whacked, and then I raked while he mowed all of the places I don't mow.  (like under the trees and on the hills.) 

Although I mowed and raked, the one thing I refuse to do is pick up the piles and throw them over the fence.  I get poison really easily & very badly, so I avoid touching the grass, even with gloves.

The piles never got picked up.

Fast forward another week or so.  The mowing is overdue once again, PLUS, the piles are brown lumps of dead grass all over the place. 

I mow again-round two.  I mowed right over the piles and then raked it up again.  (This time only the back yard got raked because it was hot outside.)

So now, we are on round 3 of "our grass needs to be mowed again" and we have super piles of dead, partially wet brown grass all over the place. 

Guess what?  Fool me once, shame on you - Fool me twice, I'm not raking again because it's just a waste of time and energy since you & I both know that we are just going to run right over those piles with the lawn mower, so why rake it up in the first place?

the dork-o-meter

We are planning a summer vacation to Pigeon Forge, TN.  If you don't know, it's home to Dollywood.  If you don't know what Dollywood is...well, if you don't know what Dollywood is then certainly you are much cooler than I am.

In hopes of maybe scoring a coupon or travel tips, I "liked" Dollywood on facebook.  Shortly thereafter one of my friends sent me a private message poking fun at me for liking Dollywood.
I must say, I was taken aback.  If she would ridicule me for liking Dollywood on fb, what would she say if she knew we were planning to go there for our family vacation?  

I immediately realized that even though I am comfortable with my own level of dorkiness, I sometimes forget that in our culture, most people prefer to keep their dorkiness under wraps.

Which led me to think, how dorky am I?  I came up with the concept of the dork-o-meter.

The dork-o-meter method measures your level of dorkiness by asking questions a la Jeff Foxworthy's "You Might Be A Redneck."

If you go to a Nascar race, camp for a week and call it summer vacation, you might be a redneck.
If you go to Dollywood for summer vacation, you might be a dork.

If you wear cut off jeans to a funeral, you might be a redneck.
If you wear a jean dress jumper paired with Keds, you might be a dork.

If your purse is leather and has fringe, you might be a redneck.
If your purse has a cartoon character on it, you might be a dork.  If it's Winnie the Pooh, double dork.

The list could go on, but you get the idea.  Some of the categories within the dork-o-meter could include nerdy, dorky, and quirky.

I think quirky would be the one to shoot for, but sometimes quirky is just a cool version of dorky.  Sometimes dorks fancy themselves as quirky, but it just doesn't work.

So on a scale from 1 to 10, I'd say my dork level is probably a 9.  (And no, I do not have a purse with cartoon character on it, but I have other things that raise my dork-o-meter level.  None of which will be discussed in this post.  Maybe some day.)
But I'm okay with a 9.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go look up where to eat at Dollywood.