Sounds kind of like phenomenon

I woke up before the alarm went off, having a few moments to relish the anticipation of the day ahead. I took a deep breath through my nose, and do you know what I smelled? Absolutely nothing! Allergies had rendered me stuffy, and apparently I do not live in a coffee commercial. There are no happy faces in our 6 a.m. world, rather two teenagers who see me as the destroyer of all things comfy and dreamy.

I was the first person to arrive downstairs, and glanced around at our home. Such love, such warmth, such...Why the hell were there so many dishes in the sink? Was I really too tired to address that situation the night before? Did I honestly believe that the dried on bits of food on each plate would be a welcome challenge? Maybe I just plain forgot that I would be the first one on the scene in the dark early morning. Wait, was that sheepish look on the dog's face going to require further investigation? Rough night pooch? There is no chance for me to unsee what I have seen and go back to bed, even though I am the only person with nowhere to be.

Eventually everyone made their merry way downstairs and out the front door, leaving a new trail of odds and ends for me to sort and classify. Once the bottom of the kitchen sink and the counter top had been found, I could turn my attention elsewhere. But where? In which direction should I turn to find the sort of folly that will make my day seem legendary? The vacuum cleaner hardly seems like the stuff dreams are made of...not these dreams anyway. My Dyson and I can protect the family from the growing population of dust elephants another day. 

Today I must look inside myself to find a plan, search the cobwebs of my mind for some spark, my own tingling spidey-sense. The first step is the tricky one, or is it? Step...step, step, step...step, step. The pedometer clipped to my pajama bottoms reads 1,147, which is not bad for 7:00 a.m. Watching those numbers change as I lap my kitchen, getting some breakfast, puts an extra bit of pizazz in the experience.

More steps when I head upstairs to get dressed. What to wear, where to go...must take more steps. A voice tells me that mom jeans are not going to cut it for this trek. I wasn’t going for some leisurely stroll. I was headed on an arm-pumping, heart-rate rising mission. The Under Armour that still has tags on it catches my eye, and even my trusty Nikes tell me to "Just Do It"! I needed to escape the evil forces of dryer lint and become my own superhero. A quick run to the craft supply closet for some embellishments…more steps, more steps…

There is a two-mile route through the neighborhood mapped out, and that road is calling for...PEDOMEMOM!  

 Read. Vote. Repeat...for your five favorites on the grid.

Don't be jealous of my random

So remember last week when I said I had some thoughts, but was going to sit on them to see what my forty-four year old self thought of them? Well, in true aging fashion, I think I have forgotten what they were, and am not convinced that means they were unimportant.

You may also recall that I was lamenting over missing out on a bra-tastic celebration. Little did I know that things were going to be ass-mazing fantabul-ass ass-tastic! Look what I got (to make up for what I don't got)...

My dear friend certainly had my back with this birthday gift!

Oh happy day when the bakery box walks in.

Here, look at these pretty flowers while I see what else I've got...

There's no place like gnome!

In an attempt to show my appreciation for this handcrafted guy, I immediately started trying to order more, to the point where I may have seemed ungrateful.

My birthday, my candy...the rules are so simple, yet bound to broken. (Note to self: Find decent hiding spot)

Hey somebody in Baltimore loves me...

...you don't need to know what's under that chocolate because it will just make you sad that you don't have any! (I am only considering your feelings.)

Chicago weighed in as well...

...I am not showing you the actual delicious contents of this tin or the two deep dish pizzas because, again, trying to be considerate.

Just to assure you that I was not a total glutton, look at what was left of a piece of pumpkin cheesecake that three of us shared...

Seriously, none of us could finish that.

In one final act of totally living it up for my special week of celebrating, I turned the heat on. 55 degrees? I guess that explains why we felt a little chilly.

I am sure the heat wave style temperature setting of 62 isn't warming many of you up much. I actually think it's at 64 now, so I probably ought to go put shorts on.

Look at Stacy, she's celebrating too! Go say "hello"!

Last random as a 43 year old

Sure, I am hoping to have a happy birthday tomorrow, but am slightly disappointed that I did not realize sooner that it could have been...

...BRA-TASTIC!!! (And such a bargain as well.)

Granted, my son did present me with the following ad for the Purr-fect cup of sweetness. 

I think he knows that this year's drought of creepy monkeys has left me feeling a little sad, and I was touched by his attempt to cheer me up. It does say that I won't be able to take my eyes off her, and that this artist "is known for her paintings of bright-eyed cats in precarious situations". It is a free preview that looks to only cost $29.99.

Let's keep shopping...I have walked past many an upright Elmo doll display without even batting an eyelash, but something about this one turned on its side? Wrong, so very wrong.

Speaking of wrong, when I stopped by a friend's house for a quick sandwich last week, it didn't seem right to put the dark chocolate peanut butter spread on bread and call it a sandwich. However, once I added some regular peanut butter and Fluff, I am sure it scored far more nutritional points. (Please note: whole grain bread.)

Oh my yum!

I have some other random thoughts cruising around this graying head of mine. Maybe they are the mere musings of a silly 43 year old, and I should wait until tomorrow to see if a much more mature mind finds them as fascinating. 

For now, I will just say that I know there are people who doubt the viability of internet based bloggy friendships. I would like to present Exhibit A:

These are just a few items out of my fantabulous birthday gift box from Misty. (I am not showing you the rest because that would just be showy and make you jealous.) As I eat the chocolate (yum), prepare myself for a solo concert in my van tomorrow (HOT BLOODED) and crack up at the bug-eyed poop keychain, there is no other word for her besides "friend". Well, there are other words, but...Seriously, who else gives you a poop keychain?

Thanks to Stacy for hosting the random...from all the way across the country now!

Keeping the random rolling

Just when I start to panic that I have no random to share, I throw the SD card in the computer and voila! In keeping with my current "everything must go" approach, and not hanging onto the dream of a picture getting its own post, let's get rolling....

The Rainbow Loom came into our home a couple of weeks ago, and while my daughter is having a blast, Fozzie remains unimpressed.

My mother's cat is unimpressed by Fozzie, and all of his canine glory. In response to the notion of a downward dog yoga position, she has come up with her own cat-tastic pose.

I am not sure why these letter tiles were on clearance, unless it had something to do with the fact that there are fifteen pieces.

Thank goodness the J and Z were two of them.

I was not prepared at all for what we saw around the corner at the craft store. Yes, I am used to holiday decor being out long before it should be, but the cheetah line? I am not sure that should ever be available.

There is a deviled egg holder on that top shelf! What outfits are appropriate to wear if you intend to fill those picture frames? And on the bottom shelf? Cheetah balls! Wait, is that leopard instead? Totally acceptable if it is.

I started to suspect that my candy thermometer was failing a few years ago, so I bought another, but that one really seemed off. I am not sure I understand why putting both in the pot seemed like a helpful plan since I don't know which, if either, is right. I actually ended up pulling the plug ten degrees early because things were looking and smelling on the brink of burnt.

The caramel corn was not a complete disaster though. Very quick to set. I assume this is how it is intended to be eaten.

While we're talking food, sometimes it is hard to decide between a ziti dinner and pizza night. Luckily there are pizza places that don't make you decide.

I don't know what to say, but had to share...

...a moment of silence for Christopher Robin and his friends?

So we went to a cross-country meet downstate this past weekend to see the kids' friends. From 9:00 a.m. until 4:00 p.m. every ten minutes, this was what the starting line looked like...

In addition to not trampling those guys doing the announcing, they had to funnel onto this trail.

It was so cool...from where we stood...not running!

Now run on over to see what Stacy is randomly rambling about!

Rambling random

Shhhhhhh...are we alone? I feel like there might be a fungus amongus.

You create a distraction while I see what is in this week's photo file. We have to move quickly before I start to believe that fruit flies deserve their own post. 

I realized that my homemade trap was actually becoming a breeding program for captive insects. They were thriving! I had to resort to a seemingly less humane approach, but considering what I remember about the life span of a fruit fly, I really hadn't cut their time short here by much. Plus, bubbles seem like a kind send off.

And what welcomed those little lovelies into our home? The grapes we picked! So are you jelly?

Of my grape jelly? (Fly-free no less)

Let's get out of my kitchen, shall we? When I saw the scab on my leg, I wondered if it was a sign that I should finally read the Harry Potter books.

Then I realized it was probably more of a sign that I am a klutz.

Now I love Peanuts, and I loves me some Hallmark ornaments, but seriously?

As if PigPen doesn't have enough trouble, now he is being depicted with poopy worm hair?

Are you on the edge of your seat waiting for this one?

What the heck will that even smell like?

I am starting to have some concerns about my upcoming birthday. For the past two years, October has found creepy monkey love in my coupon section. I haven't gotten any of these simians delivered to my door (thank goodness), but at least the thought was there. But this year? This year I have seen no signs of realistic baby monkeys that can grasp a finger. Instead...

"Paws-itively Sweet"? No, just no. With "Sweet Purr-sonalitea" to follow? Salt and pepper shakers designed after other kitchen staples. At least they are food safe. However, I realized today that my husband and I will be celebrating our porcelain anniversary this year and that these are...porcelain. Must hide coupon sections from the great coupon caper!

Another option is the first doll in the "You make me happy" collection. I can assure you, it would not!

Maybe this week's newspaper will return us to our usual state of glory!

As my grandmother and I sat contemplating the weeds growing up between her patio bricks, well, okay only one of us was actually concerned. The other one of us was thrilled to find a little bit of love in the shadow!

Stacy's got the random rocking over at her place too!

2 B's or not 2 D's

As I weeded out my summer clothes last week, I noticed a trend. I had a few brand new white shirts that had never been worn. My instincts told me that if they had not been worn for an entire season, they should be donated. The problem was that I really liked the shirts, and remembered feeling joy when the purchases were made. Suddenly the reason for their neglect hit me. Perhaps you remember this...

No? This is my best fitting bra. As you can see, not terribly conducive to fabulous white t-shirts. Mind you "best fitting" might be a bit misleading, as it does not necessarily mean it fits well, just better than the rest of the collection. If you need (ok, want) a glimpse at some of my bra shopping endeavors, check here or here.

Yes, I have met disappointment in the lingerie department on numerous occasions, but then I heard of a place...a marvelous place. The wizardesses at Soma possessed a knowledge of tape measure reading and magical cup size formulas that could change my life. (That may not be exactly what I was told, but it is fairly close to what my desperate mind heard.) They were conjuring up sizes never before dreamt of. Someday that adventure was going to be mine. I held that vision as a treat for myself when the kids went back to school, and I had free time to get lost in a fitting room that knew how to care for me and my girls. Lofty ambitions, I know. Somehow I got busy cleaning junk drawers and the like during the month of September, and forgot about my mission, until I saw that little pile of unworn shirts.

As I approached the Soma storefront, I almost let myself be intimidated by the bright and shiny. I took a deep breath and walked in. I was the only customer in the store, and my presence snapped the saleswoman into action as she ended her personal phonecall. I told her I was interested in a bra that actually fit properly. I expected rainbows of measuring tape and some comfy bath robe, maybe a speck of tea. I saw the price tags, there had to be something wondrous in store for me. The first fantastic piece of information I received was that I had grown two inches around my rib cage since my last bra fitting. Then I was told that I was a B. Now maybe the fabulous fitters had some new system I was unaccustomed to, so the DD's and I played along. I was already wearing a bra that only sort of fit, so who was I to doubt what the nice young lady was telling me.

I followed close behind her as she led me to the promised land wall of bras. She started handing me some B's, with a couple of D's thrown in just to humor me I guess. As I held one of the espresso cups up to my grandes, she whipped all of the B's away and piled on some more D's. She told me her name in case I needed her, as she left me in the fitting room with so much satin. 

"Um, Erica? This doesn't fit."

The two of us stood there together pondering what we saw in the mirror. Gaps in the wrong places, overflow in the wrong places (as if there was a right place for such). She offered to get a DD, but then I mentioned that the gaps would just be gappier. Time to try another style.

"Um, Erica?"
"No, that is not how that is supposed to fit."

Again, we both were baffled by the disconnect between the magical measuring tape and my inability to actually fit in a bra. She brought me one other bra to try and I told her that if she came back and found me crouched on the floor crying, she'd know what had happened.

"Erica?"

We stood staring into the mirror, as I questioned the fit and commented on just what should be tucked in. Erica told me to put on the tank top that was hanging in the fitting room to give an idea of how things would actually look since I was intending to wear clothes. She might have made a small mistake when she mentioned how the bra was "smoothing out my back"...um, I was not concerned about back fat when I walked in. Brilliant sales technique, Erica. I asked Erica to go get my friend who I was shopping with for some sort of consultation. Basically I just wanted her to marvel over how I am able to stand erect based on the visual of the crazy bra with a too small tank top. 

The bra was kind of complicated to hook, but who doesn't like that kind of aggravation adventure getting dressed in the dark at six a.m.?

I just had too much invested to walk away. Too much hope. Without a spring in my step I proceeded to the check out. I checked with Erica to confirm that I had tried on all styles that fit my specifications. My friends shouted over "What about the Minimizer?" By then the store manager had appeared, and added her two cents, "Uh, I recommend those for smaller sized women." I looked at her and asked her to excuse me for a moment.

I turned towards my friends, "Hey, brace yourselves for this one...that bra is for smaller women. The MINIMIZER is for women with smaller chests."

"That particular style" grumbled the manager.

So for all of you small busted women who want to look smaller still, Soma has got a bra for you!

(Aaaaaaand I am returning the one I bought in my moment of joy seeking weakness.)

Random @ home

First things first...Fozzie is under the impression that I am using photos of him as a vehicle to make fun of him. He has asked me to respect his privacy and cease the paparazzi.

Let's see what else has been going on around here. I tried to make lo mein. I thought the challenge was going to be that I was missing two key ingredients, but alas, there was more in store for me. I didn't spend a lot of time gazing at the noodles through the package, so I didn't notice that they were tied in little bundles...

...until after I carefully cut the top off and dumped the contents of the package into the boiling water. Ahhhhhhh! Noodles that only need to cook for three minutes stick together very quickly, especially when they are wrapped in plastic bands together. together. It is also kind of warm to the touch to try to take plastic off of noodles that are submerging in boiling water. Then I had to cook them a little longer trying to pry them apart. Basically, we don't even need to talk about the actual flavor of the finished product.

I decided to make a very lofty list of goals before our company came over the weekend...

I don't think it is a good sign when you start heckling yourself on your own to-do list.

Speaking of our company, look at the bagels they brought...mmmmmmm...carbo coma...zzzzzzzzzz!

What else is on the counter? Emergency s'more!

Believe it or not, I don't always need a lot of chocolate. I love the flat marshmallows for the microwave s'mores.

I had my husband take a picture this morning to show how glorious my right hand looks after letting my latest injury rest overnight. Wanna guess how I sprained my finger and got that lovely puff of knuckle? Go ahead, guess...I'll be here....

You know what? No offense, but I don't think you're going to guess. I was shoving laundry into the washing machine and something must've tried to leap back out and bent my middle finger rather far back. As if laundry and housework is not painful enough! On that pathetic note, I am going to get some ice.

Grab a glass of wine and go visit Stacy!