winner winner chicken dinner

See update at the end of this post.

If you thought this post was about chicken, I'm sorry, but it's not.

That was my last post, "an apology to fried chicken & the universe".

Today's post is a great big WOOOOO-HOOOOOO because I actually won something on another blog & I just wanted to brag about it let everyone know about it.

The blog is called When You Rise.


It has lots of great ideas for teaching your children about God.  Not only that, but there are some great parenting posts as well as sweet, sweet giveaways!

I won the Jesus Storybook Deluxe Edition, which is awesome because who doesn't like Jesus and who doesn't like a storybook and who doesn't like a deluxe edition?  I am totally excited to receive this.  I saw the review of it on When You Rise and I thought it sounded like a great book to have, but I  am ultra cheap and poor  did not purchase it.

So thank you, When You Rise!  It's awesome to be a winner and even more awesome to win something that you actually like and will use!  Hooray!

Update:  I received my prize and I just wanted to give another shout out to When You Rise for the great giveaway.  It is a wonderful book and I think it would make a great Christmas gift for any child.  It would also make a great baby shower gift.  The pictures are very nice and the text is written so that it's enjoyable to read out loud.  (I just read those last few sentences and it sounds very cheesy and almost like someone is paying me to say that.  I wish.)
Also, in other news, I needed to find a doctor so I finally bit the bullet and went for an appointment.  In the waiting room?  The Jesus Storybook Bible.  I felt like it was kind of a sign.  Or a coincidence.  Call it whatever you like, but it made me smile.  I took a picture with my phone.  As you can see, that book could really be any book because of the terrible picture.  Take my word.  It's the Jesus Storybook Bible.  I would not lie about that.  Other things?  Maybe.  Jesus Storybook Bible?  No way.  I have standards, people.  

an apology to fried chicken and the universe

This past week has not been my finest.

I have ticked off people right and left.

At last count, it was 4.

There could be more, because I have the gift of social blindness where sometimes my mouth spilleth over, people look at me in horror, and I never realize it.  So, it really could be more like 12.

Anyway, I had what I am now calling the "fried chicken incident" with a local grocery chain.  It was not my finest moment.

We stopped by to purchase some fried chicken to take to our church picnic.

I go to the deli where the fried chicken is located.  The chicken is in 2 covered containers with tongs sticking out of them and bags and boxes located right next to it.  There is a sign that says "8 piece chicken - $6.99".  There is another sign that says "Please call ahead for large orders of fried chicken".  I look to see if there is an employee b/c I figured maybe I needed a sticker or something.  After standing there for awhile, I finally decided that since the tongs were there sticking out, maybe I was supposed to just get my own chicken.  Which I did.

Now, let me just say that I don't live under a rock.  I know that an "8 piece chicken" usually refers to 2 wings, 2 legs, 2 thighs & 2 breasts.  However, when I started looking through the chicken, I only saw one thigh.  So then I looked to see if the sign specified how many of each.  It did not.  So I got the one thigh, 2 legs, and 5 breasts.  8 pieces.  I double bagged it so it wouldn't be greasy and went to the checkout.

Here's how the checkout went down:
Clerk (holding the chicken):  "You didn't get a sticker?"

Me:  "No, the sign says 8 pieces for $6.99.  I have 8 pieces."

Clerk:  "Well, I have to weigh it and you pay by the pound if I don't have a sticker and it's really expensive."

Me:  "That's not what the sign says, but that's fine.  I just need the chicken."

The clerk calls over a supervisor & explains.
Supervisor (with a raised eyebrow): "Do you have 2 wings, 2 legs, 2 thighs, and 2 breasts?"

Me:  "No.  The sign did not specify what to get.  Also, there was only one thigh back there, so how could I get 2 thighs?"

Supervisor:  "Well, you're supposed to get someone to help you."

Me (starting to get mad, but still calm):  "Well, there wasn't anyone back there and I stood there for a long time."

Supervisor: "Sometimes you have to go over to the deli and ask for help."

Me: "Why are there tongs facing the customer side if I'm not supposed to get the chicken myself?"

Supervisor: "That's for people who just want to get like one piece of chicken.  You have to get help if you want a lot of chicken.  There's a sign."

Me (full on mad at this point because I'm arguing about fried chicken):  "Yes, I read the signs.  They say "8 piece chicken $6.99 and call ahead for large orders.  I didn't think 8 pieces was a large order.  That seems pretty standard to me."

Supervisor (jamming the key into the register and rolling her eyes):  "Well, I don't know why there's nobody back there and there IS a sign."

Me (shaking with rage):  "IT SHOULDN'T BE THIS HARD TO BUY CHICKEN. I know none of this is your fault, but maybe you should tell the store manager to change the layout back there by either removing the tongs or making a 12-step instruction manual to purchase fried chicken."  I didn't say the part about the 12 step instruction manual, but I thought it.

Supervisor overrides the price and walks away.
Clerk:  "I'm really sorry."
Me: "It's ok, not your fault."
I left with my chicken and we ended up not going to the church picnic.  So then we ate the chicken for dinner and also for dinner the next day.  I'm pretty sure there's a Bible verse somewhere about eating fried chicken in anger on the corner of a roof gives you heartburn or something.

I don't know why, but little things like this sometimes send me over the moon.  I stewed about that chicken all afternoon.  Finally, I decided to go online & complain.  A few days later, I got an email which apologized for my experience and said they would send me a $25 gift card.

It took everything in me not to send back an email that said keep your gift card, I'm still mad.   Instead, I sent an email and said thank you very much for your response and for the gift card.

Like I said earlier, I have done shenanigans like this all week long to no less than 4 people.   This is the only one safe to blog about because if I talked about the other ones, people would know who I am talking about. I feel the need to apologize to fried chicken for bringing it down to my level and also to the rest of the universe for generally being a troll this week.

I'm pretty sure I've reached a new low since I just apologized to fried chicken.
Feel better about yourself?  You're welcome.

Marriage is like a burrito

Tomorrow is our 18th wedding anniversary.

Which seems like a long time.  For all of you dog lovers out there, that's 126 in dog years.  I am not a dog lover, so I'll stick with the 18.  Plus, saying I've been married for the equivalent of 126 years no matter how you figure it,  just makes me feel super old.

I got married when I was 18, so that makes me 36 now.

If we make it to our Golden Anniversary, I will be 68.
And by "if we make it", I mean if we live that long.  Not "if" we stay married.

And by "if we live that long", I mean "if we don't die of natural causes first", not "if we don't kill each other before then."

Just thought I should clarify.  I know how you people are.

Although, on a side note, if you're wondering:  it doesn't really get easier as the years go by.  I always thought marriage would be a piece of cake by this time.  It's not. Sometimes it's more like breadcrumbs than cake.  Not so sweet and kind of crummy.

On the other hand, sometimes it's better than cake.
I mean, who wants to eat cake all the time?
Not that many people.
And those who do probably get stomachaches.

I don't really know what food to compare marriage to.  Not cake, not breadcrumbs....maybe it's more like an awesome burrito:  filling, sometimes spicy, sometimes cheesy, sometimes causing you to run to the bathroom in angst.  That could totally be a card.  One which I would totally be mad about if I received it as an anniversary card.

Happy Anniversary, Superfrydad. You are an awesome husband.  Mostly.  And I am an awesome wife. Sometimes.  Which is better?  To BE the more awesome spouse or to be married TO the more awesome spouse?  I think I win.

sweaty hands

I can't remember if I have blogged about this or not.

I have sweaty hands.  And sweaty feet.

It's totally gross.

I've pretty much always had this problem but lately it's really been bothering me.

Turns out, it's an actual medical condition called hyperhidrosis. I did some internet research and here are the remedies that I found.

1.  Drysol.  This is a prescription lotion of some kind that you apply.  You put the lotion on and then put bags on your hands.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but lotion plus a plastic bag equals SWEATY.  I'm also pretty sure that Victoria's Secret does not make a line of plastic gloves with matching panties.

2.  Iontophoresis.  This is where you place your hands in water and an electrical current shocks you for 10 minutes or so.  I actually found a video where you can make your own iontophoresis machine with 2 pie pans filled with water and a small motorcycle battery.  Clearly, if I electrocute myself, sweating will be the least of my worries. 

3.  Botox.   I read that Botox injected into your hands is very painful.  Also, only areas injected with Botox stop sweating.  So if every inch of my palm is injected, my palm will not sweat.  However, if a small area is not injected, it will continue to sweat.  So I can have a MOSTLY dry hand with a small patch of sweat where they missed a place.  Plus, it hurts like you know what.  Kind of like breaking your pinkie to forget about the pain of your hangnail.  And it's super expensive.  And the wrinkles on my face will be jealous.  

4.  Surgery.  There is a surgery called ETS - Endoscopic Thoracic Sympathectomy.  They make an incision in your side, collapse your lung, and clamp part of  your sympathetic nerve.  Three words make me nervous here:  Incision, Collapse, and Clamp.  They CUT YOU OPEN, COLLAPSE YOUR LUNG AND PINCH OFF PART OF YOUR MAIN NERVOUS SYSTEM? Let me just say that as wonderful as this surgery sounds, I'm pretty sure they make you sign a whopper of a waiver before they do it.  Side effects may include death.  And probably explosive diarrhea.  As if having sweaty hands wasn't enough.  Even if you live through the surgery, I'd be willing to bet you get some kind of odd side effect that's just slightly more or less annoying than sweaty hands.

So let me just say, if I ever shake your hand, I apologize for my sweaty hands.  If I sit next to you and you see my feet glistening in my flip flops, look away.  I apologize for that mental picture that you can never un-see.  However, now that you have read this, maybe you will understand what my options are and why I cannot help it.

Here's the other thing about this post.  While it might seem funny, it's actually true, which is not funny.  Or maybe that does make it funnier.  I don't know.  All I know is that I can't afford Botox and there is no way some doctor is going to go snipping around my spine for a random nerve.  It's pretty bad when a battery and a pie pan is your best option, people.

skinny snacks

I saw this list on Pinterest the other day......"50 Snacks Under 50 Calories" - categorized by craving.

So, being a fat girl who would rather pin than exercise because I am always on the lookout for new ideas on how to be healthy, I had to check it out.

Number one on the list sounded ok:
Sweet craving?  Try 1/2 of a medium apple, baked, with 1 Tbsp. lowfat yogurt sprinkled with cinnamon.  Only 45 calories.  
Let me just be honest here & say that I would probably eat a whole baked apple, with just a pat of butter and some brown sugar and cinnamon.  Then I would eat a container of yogurt later because I would feel guilty & somehow in my mind I think that the yogurt cancels out the apple with butter and brown sugar. Plus, the original recipe called for yogurt but that doesn't sound good on a baked apple.  Hot and cold together is only appealing if it's a hot brownie with cold ice cream.  But let's not talk about that right now.

Moving down the list to number 14:
Salty craving?  Try a pretzel rod for 37 calories.
I'm sorry, but has anyone ever eaten ONE pretzel rod?
Anyone?  Anyone?  Beuller?  Beuller?
Pretzels are the skinny cousin of potato chips.  Yes, they are fat free, but if you eat a whole plastic barrel-thing of them, isn't that kind of the same thing as just going ahead and eating a regular portion of the chips you really wanted in the first place?

Here's another one that listed under  "Cheesy Whizzes":
1 large tomato, sliced, topped with 1 Tbsp Parmesan, broiled (44 calories)
First of all, I don't like raw tomatoes.
Spaghetti sauce, yes.
Ketchup, yes. Hello?  Ketchup with the Frys?
I'm good with the Parmesan, but then it loses me again at the "broiled" part.  If I am heating my oven to broil, then I'm making a Ribeye or heating up frozen boneless buffalo wings.

Lastly, the one that REALLY got me:
1 medium water packed sardine topped with slice of red onion (35 calories)
I think I'd rather eat a booger on top of a piece of sugar free gum.
I mean, really?  A MEDIUM WATER PACKED SARDINE???????  WITH RED ONION???????  I'd like to meet the waif anorexic oldmantrucker person who would actually eat this as a snack.  And if that person is skinny, I'd like to know if their food tastes as good as skinny feels.  Because I doubt it.  And if they say yes, they are a liar.  And I hope their size 0 pants catch on fire.

bento box badness

So, it's August already.

Which means that it's time for a new school year to begin.

Which also means that it's time to start the daily fight question of whether or not Superfrykid will pack her lunch or eat school lunch.

Packing a lunch ranks right up there with having "Happy Birthday" sung to me in a Mexican restaurant while wearing a giant sombrero and having 4 waiters beat me on top of the head while everyone claps.  Sounds like a good idea, but it's really not that fun.

The main reason why I don't like to pack a lunch for my child is that 9 times out of 10 it comes home only half eaten, except for the chips.  The chips get eaten.  I could send my kids with a bag of salt and vinegar chips and a quarter for her milk and she'd be happy.

My Pinterest is getting packed with moms pinning lists of healthy lunches and Bento box ideas.

Those Bento boxes give me anxiety.  You can follow me on Pinterest and see my board entitled, "Bento Box Badness".  I pinned just a few to give you an idea if you don't know what I'm talking about.

First of all, if I make a sandwich that looks just like Phineas and Ferb, nobody is eating it.  It's just going to be for looks.  And don't even think about eating the blue fruit roll up that is Perry.

Also, who makes a Mozart themed Bento box?  I'm guessing your kids don't watch the Disney channel. I'm guessing you may not even own a TV.  I'm guessing your IQ is higher than mine.  I'm guessing your sense of humor doesn't appreciate references to poop.

Forget trying to make the vegetable look like a cartoon character in hopes that it will fool my child into eating it.  I'm happy if I pack a lunch that includes a fruit AND a vegetable that does count the onion in sour cream and onion chips as the vegetable.

 

Level 2 Swimming Lessons

Last year I wrote 2 posts about swimming lessons.

You can read them here and here.

This year, Superfrykid is in Level 2.

Not sure what is different about Level 2.  To me, it's pretty much like Level 1, except it has a different name.

Kids clinging to the wall?  Check.

Tan teenagers who look like they would rather be doing anything else? Check.

Swimming?  Not so much.

Will we go back for Level 3?

Probably.

As another mom said tonight..."I feel like it's pointless to sign up for next year, but my OCD will overtake me and I will sign up for Level 3 because that's the next one."

Lastly, I'd just like to point out that signing my kid up for the last class of the day is not the smartest move I've ever made.  The instructors (I use that term loosely) bolt out of the pool, head to the parking lot and get into their cars  the cars their parents surely pay for, while dripping wet.  Note to self:  If SFK makes it through all of the levels and eventually teaches swimming lessons, DO NOT let her take the good car.  Wait a minute, that will probably never happen because we are sure to still be driving a car that has doors which freeze shut in the winter.