Tag: funny

What Should I Eat?

I’m so sick of figuring out what to eat all the time. – Erica Rhodes, comedienne (Twitter)

I was so validated when I read this tweet this morning. One of my biggest complaints over the years, being the stay-at-home parent to four kids, was figuring out every night’s dinner plans. I’m not a great cook. I don’t honestly love to cook. I find it frustrating that something that takes a lot of time and planning and expense, creates a big mess, and inevitably adds fat to my body, is also devoured in a span of a just a few minutes. I’m not denigrating those who love to cook. I admire you. I wish that I was as passionate about cooking, as I am about writing.

Now that my kids are grown and out of the house, I now realize that I still hate figuring out meals, even if it is just for myself. My husband gets tired of hearing me complain about figuring out dinner. (Breakfast and lunch long ended up in the “fend for yourself” category, even when our kids were still at home.) “I honestly don’t care!” he says with a frustrated tone. “Stop stressing about dinner! We’ll just eat whatever we feel like eating at the time.” But that’s part of the problem, too. How much time of your life do you sit in front of your open refrigerator, or your kitchen cabinet, and you think to yourself, “I’m really hungry, but nothing appeals to me. I’m starved, but I just don’t know what to eat.”? If we are honest with ourselves, true food cravings are few and far between, and they are usually related to hormones and/or emotions. True food cravings are wonderful, because they turn eating into a focused mission to be accomplished, above all other missions and chores.

Some people who read Erica Rhodes’ tweet were outraged, and called her privileged for even thinking such a thought, let alone tweeting it. (And then, at the other end of the spectrum, there was the guy in the comments, who truly does seem kind of privileged, when he mentioned his live-in chef. Sigh.) I think that it goes without saying, that of course, those of us who have plenty of food to eat, are extremely grateful for this fact. There is no need to shame anyone. Everyone understands that there are certainly many worse problems in life than figuring out what to eat. Still, it was relieving to see that a lot of other people struggle with this daily dilemma of figuring out meals. Here are some comments to Erica Rhodes’ tweet, that even if you don’t see them as viable solutions to this problem, you will probably get a good giggle from them. I know that I did. Comments to her tweet:

It’s such a bother! Makes me want the everlasting gobstopper from Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. Every day! (Matthew Kenneth Gray)

I started eating salad every day for lunch six years ago. I hate it still after all this time but there’s a peculiar freedom in knowing I’m never going to enjoy lunch again. (Justin Stenson)

Grubhub needs a “surprise me” option. (John Dawkins)

Book a gig on a cruise. (Matt D’Rion)

Did Steve Jobs eat the same thing everyday? I know he wore the same clothes not to have to think about what to wear. Thinking about it, perhaps not the best idea anyway. (baranoide)

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Monday – Funday

Doodles definitely seem to be the dogs of choice in our parts. Every night when we walk our three dogs (none that are poodle mixes), a man rides his bike right by us, with his adorable, frisky poodle/doodle/kitandcaboodle tethered to the bike, running along side of him. The biker has a bright red light, and the dog also sports a bright red light, too. We don’t know the dog’s name, so my husband calls him “Rudolph.”

I just looked up the various types of poodle mixes, and their names, and my favorite is the “Bossypoo”, which is a mix of Boston Terrier and poodle. I thought that “Foodle” was a fun one, too. A “Foodle” is a Fox Terrier/Poodle mix. I wonder if our society got obsessed with mixing different dog breeds with poodles, not just for their intelligence and lack of shedding, but more so, so that we could come up with really fun names for the new breeds?

(Confession: These are the types of mindless, ridiculous concepts which I think deeply about on Monday mornings, when I just can’t get my “get up and go” to get up and go. Please humor me and tell me that I am not alone in this interesting, meandering use of time. Have a great week!)

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Berry, Berry Friday!

Happy Friday!!! Happy Best Day of the Week!!! Happy Day to play with all of your favorite stuff!! On Fridays, here at the blog, that’s all I discuss – my favorite stuff. We weren’t given five senses for nothin’. Today’s favorite involves perhaps my favorite sense: Taste. My daughter was home from college visiting us last weekend, and we went to her, and mine, and her dad’s favorite store: Costco. My daughter begged and pleaded (Okay, huge exaggeration. My daughter suggested them, and I, without hesitation, nodded enthusiastically to throw them into the cart) for us to buy a bag of Trü Frü frozen chocolate covered strawberries. Oh! Wow! Let’s just say that the enormous bag of Trü Frü did not make it to this weekend. These luscious frozen strawberries are first coated with white chocolate and then they are dipped in milk chocolate. And these juicy babies trick your brain into believing that they are healthy, because you know, they’re fruit. Supposedly, three of them are less than 100 calories. . . if you can keep it to three.

Don’t fret. You can buy Trü Frü in many different food stores besides Costco. You can even purchase all sorts of varieties of Trü Frü fruit snacks on their own website. (I know where you are headed next.)

Have a fabulous, yummy weekend!! See you tomorrow!!

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. I’m feeling a little whimsical today, hence:

I am going to write a bad poem about a good feeling.

Like a fresh coat of paint that immediately starts peeling.

Nothing deep, earnest, soulful or blue

Just a poem about feeling contented, it’s true.

Don’t start yawning or scrunching up your face in digust.

I’ve turned Sundays into making poetry writing a “must.”

So today I feel rested, silly, goofy, and pleased.

I hope that my poem doesn’t make you feel cheesed.

Take a breath, take a pause, and make a choice towards healing:

Write your own good/bad poem about your own good/bad feeling.

And then share it with me . . . .

Your glee is my glee.

You’ll see.

Wheee!

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Monday – Funday

credit: @woofknight, Twitter

That’s a pretty good rendition of my face right now. I’ve never understood why they decided to do the Super Bowl on Sundays. I had to get up and get dressed quickly this morning because exterminators are coming to make sure that they chased out the raccoon in our attic, before sealing everything back up. The other night, we (me, my husband and our three ‘fearsome’ dogs) were in bed in our master bedroom, when I heard what sounded like a SWAT team running on top of our roof. My husband snored, and all three of our dogs, who during the day, sound the alarm for anything that barely moves grass in our yard, were soundly snoring, as well. I woke up my husband. “Did you not hear that sound? I think that zombies are invading, for real!” I got persuaded to let it go, and to go back to sleep and for some crazy reason, I felt reassured by the fact that our dogs did not react to what I thought was alarming, thunderous sounds. Perhaps it was just a dream, despite the fact I hadn’t even fallen asleep yet . . . .

At least we got answers to our mystery the next day, when my husband noticed that something had viciously ripped out the metal gutters underneath our roof and made a hole to get into our attic right above our bedroom. We called an “animal control service” who told us it is likely a mama raccoon who needed to find a safe place to have her kits. How do you humanely evict of a protective, savage mama raccoon and her babies from your attic? It turns out that you spray male raccoon pee all over the area. Male raccoons will eat kits in order to mate again (they are not patient guys). Therefore when the mama raccoon smells the pee, she grabs her kits and she makes like a tree and gets out of there. (Back to the Future reference for those old enough and keen enough to remember) Thankfully, humans cannot smell raccoon pee because the animal control people were quite liberal in spreading that stuff around. Apparently, raccoon pee does not deter squirrels, however, as I saw a few curious little guys entering the hole to check out the newly vacated rental spot. It should make for an interesting Monday morning here.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Sink Your Teeth Into This

So yesterday, I went to the dentist, hat in hand. I have been having tooth pain for about two or three weeks now. I am not the best dental patient. Not even close. My teeth have had lots (and lots) of work. I warned my husband that I would probably be out of touch for most of the afternoon because my guess was that my dentist was going to send me to the endodontist for a root canal.

They got me into the chair. They took an X-ray and I dejectedly waited for the doomful report. “Wow! This is a rare thing! I’ve only seen this one other time in my entire career. I can even remember the patient’s name (Ramon), this is how rare it is!” my dentist (who is several years older than me) exclaimed, calling all of his hygienists in, to look at my X-ray with him. “Should I be worried right now?” I asked my dentist, with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“No!” he said kindly, patting my hand. Bottom line is that it turns out that I have bone growth, which was my body’s immune reaction to a previously decayed tooth. This bone growth was pushing into one of my tooth’s roots, causing my pain. Everything in my mouth is healthy. There is no decay. Apparently this bone growth only occurs in about two percent of people, and it is a mark of a super strong immune system. All that my dentist had to do was to file down some of my molars and to (once again) remind me to wear a night guard when I sleep. My pain was from grinding my teeth which forced this bone growth to irritate the root of my tooth. I was out of the dentist’s office and free to go home within 20 minutes. I am pain free this morning.

Molar of the story (wonk wonk): Don’t always assume the worst.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Monday – Funday

credit: Rex Masters, Twitter

My husband and I like to “escape” to different locales every once in a while. This year our current passports expire, so we went to get our passport photos taken this weekend at our local Walgreens so that we can renew our passports. Wow. I’ve often said that I have “opposite anorexia” where I assume that I am much thinner than I am, until I try putting on an old (‘shrunken’) pair of jeans. I also have some sort of built in filter in my eyes/head, which makes the objects in the mirror appear to look quite different, and far more appealing than what the passport photo reveals. Nothing makes you want to escape reality more than your own passport photo. It’s one of the great ironies in life.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

What Should I Wear?

@SketchyWolf_13 (Twitter)

I met a friend for lunch yesterday at the highest end shopping mall in our city. It’s a mall that has a huge Neiman Marcus as one of its anchor stores. All of the major designers have stores in the mall. And I was dressed up compared to most of the other shoppers. I was wearing jeans and a sweater. I’m all for comfort, but I’ve also always thought that dressing yourself is an art. It’s an expression of who you are and your gratitude for the body that gets you around to the different experiences of your life. Athleisure wear is not a 24 hour uniform. It’s boring when everyone looks the same.

Okay, I’m sorry. Rant over. I’m working hard at not becoming a curmudgeon in my older years. Sometimes that inner curmudgeon of mine is harder to stifle than others. But when my Curmudgeon does come out, she always makes a point of at least wearing some lipstick and cute earrings and an interesting pair of shoes.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

The Blame Game

If you ever lose/displace something, I have a full proof way to find the said item. It doesn’t involve retracing your steps, a Tile, St. Anthony, a pendulum or a psychic (although in desperation, I have used the above tactics in different drastic measures throughout the years). The sureproof way to find something that is lost, is to secretly, and righteously, and angrily blame someone else in your head for taking your item. That’s what you do. Name a thief. It never fails, right after you get your ire up as you sit steaming in your pitiful, indignant victim chair, your item shows up in some stupid place that you, yourself obviously and carelessly put the item in. When you discover the lost item, you are filled with embarrassment, and shame (for the blame), and also utter relief and joy all at the same time. It’s a whole sh%tstorm of feelings. As an example, yesterday I couldn’t find a $16 pair of earrings that I had recently purchased. They are not my favorite earrings. There is nothing particularly special or amazing about these earrings, but they are mine, and they were lost and I was pissed. I spent a chunk of time yesterday, going through garbage cans, recycle bins, scouring “my places” where I typically put my jewelry, to no avail. That’s when I remembered my trick. Whom should I blame for coming into my house and taking my $16 pair of earrings while stealthily leaving all other valuables firmly in place? The Fedex guy? A neighbor? The electrician from last year? Our first pet sitters from when we first moved here? And that’s when I remembered the most plausible entity to blame – Ralphie, our Labrador retriever. I noticed him munching on something crunchy the evening before and when I went to explore what he was eating, flipping through his piles of lips, he kept his mouth firmly shut, and so I had given up the quest of trying to see what he had been eating. Aha! Now I knew! What a naughty, guilty dog! Chewing on small metal earrings that weren’t his to devour! Is the diet kibble really that bad?! Just as I was giving Ralphie the evil eye, as I went to grab my eye drops out of the top drawer in my bathroom, I noticed two earrings that had obviously been swept into the drawer, just sitting there in the little dark corner of the drawer, looking up at me, almost with their own little evil eyes, as if to say, “What do you have to say for yourself, lady? How do you feel now?” And then, that strange, somewhat overwhelming mix of happy/bad feelings swept all over me, and I put my earrings on, and I hugged Ralphie and I gave him a treat. (and not the diet variety)

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Good morning. Welcome to Sunday on the blog, a day devoted to poetry. Poetry is everywhere. It’s in our songs, in our descriptions of things, and in the cadence of our movements. And the biggest misnomer that people have about poetry is that it is SO SERIOUS. Haven’t we all read several of Dr. Seuss’ books?! Below is one of my favorite actresses reciting a poem. Enjoy! And write yourself a silly poem today or speak out loud one of your favorite songs in a serious, poetical tone. Make yourself and your loved ones laugh. What could be better for your soul?

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.