The best Sunday in the World!

It happened at our house yesterday! The best Sunday in the World, EVER! Because yesterday was a fun-filled TV event day! The Daytona 500 AND the NBA Allstar game -- on the very same day, can you believe it? We skipped CHOIR practice to get home in time to see most of the Daytona -- only missed about 15 laps at the beginning and about 38 (as I recall, and I admit its all a blur--but then, aren't they all? Cars going 200 mph are pretty much a blur) at the end when the race was called because of rain (read H-U-R-R-I-C-A-N-E)! Boy, now there's a sentence or lack thereof that both my dad and my sophomore English teacher Miss Mason would give me about a D- on! My husband was in the dumps because he thought for sure number 24 (Jeff Gordon) was going to win! I don't remember who won -- but I know for sure it wasn't Jeff! Jeff is his hero. He even has a genuine leather Jeff Gordon jacket, size XXX! He bought it on e-Bay for a couple hundred bucks which is absolutely astonishing! The only other thing he's ever spent $200 on at one time is Diet Coke!

The day could have been expected to be a total loss after Jeff's loss -- but no! Time for the Allstar game. Now there's a dumb game! It's all about who's the cutest, trickiest, sweatiest guy in the NBA -- East or West! Turns out their were TWO cutest, trickiest, sweatiest guys in the NBA : Coby and Shaquille, oh boy! They were named co-MVP's, for heaven's sake, and good grief as well! They're both dumb and ugly and they hate each other besides! They probably both took a bribe to stand next to each other when the awards were made! Gag. Who won that game? I'm thinkin it was the West -- by a grundle of points. Well, actually, both teams made a grundle of points. I think the score was something like 853 to 710 or so. Nobody ever heard of defense in the NBA All star game! Anyway -- it's over and I'm glad, and my husband had a happy, happy day being a sportophile! Now, that's pretty silly!

The 24 THOUSAND hours of Le Mans...or whatever

Did I mention that my husband is a motor racing aficionado? Well, of course, motors don't race by themselves...they usually reside in a high powered vehicle of some kind...doesn't matter too much what -- a boat, motorcycle, snowmobile, lawnmower, or even a car. Car you might ask? Could be a dragster (also sometimes known as a funny car), pick-up truck, midget, quarter-midget, open wheel car, nascar car, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, and further more, BLAH! Doesn't matter -- he watches them all -- all the time, all of them, no matter what for, how long, or who's doin' it! This weekend it was the "Rolex Daytona 24 Hour Something or Other Race." Not sure about the "something or other," but there was some other part of the name of this race that I can't quite remember and it needs the extra syllables to "make it flow!"

Apparently my husband doesn't understand the concept of "you don't have to watch the whole thing to find out who wins." That's what I'm thinkin'. Because he watched the WHOLE "24 hours of something or other" race end to end, front to back, side to side, wall to wall! I know this because we share a sleeping (or lack thereof) space. The W-H-O-L-E thing. Every second, minute, hour, crash, tire change, storm, etc., etc., etc. ! Did I mention that our shared non-sleeping space has a 72 inch television set? That's right. 72 count 'em inches! And stereo! The whine of the cars, the annoying British accent of the commentator! Even with all that, I managed to escape into sleep for a few minutes....only to be awakened by the blue Porshe that exploded out of the screen seemingly to run me over! Oh, no....it was just a tight shot of the Porsh from the head on position! Sleepin on the couch felt pretty dang good about then...ME doing the couch sleeping ...not him the rightful recipient of couch time! He was busy watching Nascar in between commercials on the "24 hours of..." race! Stay tuned...next week, same time, same station!

Now, that's pretty silly!

ABOUT THAT CHRISTMAS TREE

SPEAKING OF INSIDE THE BOX, GUESS WHERE MY CHRISTMAS TREE IS? OUTSIDE the box as promised! I had threatened to leave it up in the living room for ever and ever, amen, but true to form and compulsion, I took the damned thing down on New Year's Day, just as I have done with every Christmas tree we've ever had since the earth cooled or whenever it was when we got married. I did not, however, NOT, stuff it back in the dreaded box, tape it in there to make sure it wouldn't escape, and throw it up on the top back shelf in the garage! I am a woman of my word, within limits, of course.

I stripped off the ornaments, sorted them, wrapped them, and placed them carefully in some of those swell plastic containers made for such things by obsessive compulsive nitwits who make such things. I left the lights, of course, especially since they are PERMANENT, and left the tree completely assembled and upright in its stand. Then I unceremoniously tipped it on it's side, and dragged it through the house and down the basement stairs. It went thump, thump, thump all the way down -- but wait, Houston, we have a problem! Yikes! But, of course: the three sections of the tree pulled loose from each other but remained semi attached by the light wires, strung out over the full flight of steps. SOB, I said, as the stand also dropped off and bounced the rest of the way down. Oh, crap, I said. I picked up the stand at the bottom of the stairs, placed it in a special spot on the blue-painted cement floor, dragged the three semi-connected sections of the tree by its top where the star goes, the rest of the way down, ka-bump, ka-bump, ka-bump, and across the floor. I shoved the sections of the now bent-up tree back together and jammed it into its stand, hoisted it upright, and covered it top to bottom with black plastic garbage bags. I felt proud! I was a woman of my word! The Christmas tree was the living Christmas tree I had promised! Scratching my arms and searching for a Benedryl in my pocket, I started back up the stairs, wondering how the living Christmas tree was going to feel about living in the bottom of my rotten hell hole of a dusty, dirty, awful, smelly basement under black plastic bags for a year. "Sweet dreams," I said.

Now that's pretty silly!

Inside the Box

Over and over we are encouraged to "think outside the box." No one, as far as I know, has ever suggested thinking INSIDE the box! How come? If there's an outside the box, it would follow that there is an inside the box, wouldn't it not? Or, consider this question -- if there is anarchy, is there also "archy?" Or maybe, if there is insight, wouldn't there also be "outsight?" Hmmm. The point being, that if there's thinking outside the box, there must be something inside the box to think about! I'm not sure I've ever heard what was inside the box! Having been accused of being at various times insightful, deep, visonary, creative, inventive, clever, interesting, and just plain freakin' nuts, I consider myself to be an ouside the box kinda gal! So, what's inside the box? Enquiring minds want to know!!!

Now, that's pretty silly!

When the Scales Say Ouch!

So, I just finished a delicious, nutrious lunch of onion-garlic cheese ball spread on Wheat Thins, peaches straight from the can, poisoness brown liquid (PBL hereafter and forever) over ice, with chocolate covered peanuts for dessert! The basic food groups for sure -- salt, fat, caffeine (let me mention here that PBL is Diet Pepsi, or in a pinch Diet Coke) sugar, and chocolate! What more could a person want? MORE, that's what! Actually, I don't really eat meals any more. I just sort of graze all day. Did I mention I started this "lunch" at about 7 a.m.? Yes, it's true! And further, I lied when I said I was finished. I will continue to graze in this fashion until one or more of the items in my basic food group menu runs out. Then I will go to the store and buy some more! And I will keep munching until I clock out at midnight or so. But then I will probably get up at about 2 a.m. to graze a little more, then at 5 a.m. when I will graze a little more and also swallow an Excedrin for my headache, and then I will get up again tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. to stay and begin the graze-athon again! You know, I read an article about a woman who grazed her way up to almost 1,000 pounds! She said that she never consumed huge meals to get that fat -- just grazed all day! Well -- I guess eating my way up to 1,000 pounds is as good a goal as any -- so look out -- here comes Chubby Woman!

Oh, and did I mention where I learned these eating habits? From my dear old 90-year-old daddy, that's who. How much does he weigh? Considerably less than 1,000 pounds. In fact I'd guess that he weighs in at about a buck twenty-five! Not fair!!!!

Now that's pretty silly!

The Living Christmas Tree!

Did I mention that I have had it with my Christmas tree? Well, I have! I hate that THING! I've had it for years, given it more or less TLC (not including stuffing it in a box, taping the box shut, and putting it on the highest shelf in the garage once a year for a year), yet it gives ME no respect! Damn thing anyway! Artificial, pre-lit Christmas trees are supposed to be easier to deal with than real trees, right? Wrong. Did I mention I hate that thing? First mistake -- loaning it out for our ward Christmas party. They just had to have lots of trees with white lights for the over-the-top decorations. So I hauled it to my neighbor Julie's house, left it in her garage, and like magic, there it was standing in the Cultural Hall -- the only UNLIT tree among the dozens in the fake forest, when I got there for the party! "Is that your tree,"someone asked? "Yes, why," said I. "I messed around with it all day and couldn't get it to light," said the same someone. "Well, you just don't know how to talk to it," I said as I walked over and noticed that none of the multiple plugs connecting the lights on the tree sections to each other were plugged in. Only the most bottomest one that was plugged into the wall socket was plugged in. I plugged 'em all into each other. Voila! Let there be light!!! DUH! I did notice during the course of the party, however, that at least one strand of lights wasn't working. After the party, I noticed that whoever brought the tree over was not taking it down to take it back to my house. I also noticed that the trees infamous box was missing. I also noticed my husband and son walking out the door. "Hey, wait a minute," I said -- "could you throw the Christmas tree in the back of the truck?" "That our tree? I'm beat. Let whoever brought it over here take it back! I'm goin'," he said. "Okay, fine," I said! I stormed around the church looking for the box. Couldn't find it. I stormed over to the tree, unplugged all the plugs, broke the tree down into its three sections, dragged them out to my brand new drop-dead-red car, and crammed them in the back seat and trunk. I steamed back into the church. The infamous box stood innocently in the middle of the hall. I tipped it over and started to drag it out. "That your box," asked a syrupy sweet voice? "Nah -- I just like boxes so I'm takin' this one," I said as I yanked it around corners through the kitchen and out the door. I stuffed the box in the back seat on top of the tree parts, climbed in behind the wheel, started 'er up and floored it!

That was three weeks ago. I drove around town with beloved Christmas tree and infamous box in back of brand new drop-dead-red car until 4 days ago when I gave up and finally dragged it (the tree, not the car) in the house. "That our tree," asked my husband? "Where's it been?" "You don't wanna know," I said as I dragged it up to the living room. That's when the real fun started! I put the three tree sections on their sides and began disentangling the bent up branches and sorting out the various cords, plugs, and lights. I found one burned out light set and a couple of broken bulbs on another set. I decided to remove the burned out light set and put a new one on. Simple, right? Wrong oh, Mary Lou! I found that the light set in question wound over, around, and through an entire section of the tree. I found there was a broken wire -- which would explain the burned out lights. I found that each light was attached to its branch with a little, teeny, tiny green plastic clip. I found that each tiny green plastic clip was incredibly strong for something so small. I found that the actual branches are made of wire with the fake needles woven over, around, and through them. I soon found that I had scratches from my fingertips to my elbows on both arms! YIKES! Oh, and did I mention the itching? I then found some Benedryl, took it, and went to bed! Long story short. Of course not! It took one night to get the tree in the house and take off one light set. It took another night for me to sit in my chair and ponder the tree. It took last night and tonight for me to get the new lights on and the tree put together and upright! WOW! What did I learn? 1)Putting the lights back on is infinitely worse than taking them off! 2) I'll never let anyone borrow my Christmas tree again! and C) I'm never taking the Christmas tree down ever again! I pledge to let it live! I will never put it in the box on the top shelf of the garage ever again! It will be The Living Christmas Tree!

Now, that's pretty silly!

Just Another Day in the Life!

I am officially entering the blogathon! This blog will be totally and completely about pretty, silly stuff--hence the title.

I left the house at o dark thirty this morning in the 11 degree weather in my crocs with no socks! I drove all the way to Wal-Mart in South Jordan with my car still basically frozen solid, barely being able to see out the three inch frost free zone on my windshield! I parked in the no parking zone to let Matt out! I went thru the McDonald's drive up and got a sausage mcmuffin, which I hate, a large diet coke which is my official morning breakfast drink and a cup of mickey dee hot chocolate which is not my official morning drink! Voila! mickey had done it again -- added that "whateverthesecretspicetheyputinalltheirstuffspice" to make it taste distincly McDonald's! I didn't know that it was possible to make hot chocolate taste like anything but hot chocolate. Distincly McDonalds. Yup! I shoulda put my freezing feet in it!

Definitely qualifies as pretty silly!