It's the most terror-ible time...

It's the most terror-ible time of the year!

The costumes they're showing

Have my anxiety growing, there's so much to fear

It's the most terror-ible time of the year!

It's the crap crappiest season of all

If I got some candy, I might find it dandy

Perhaps have a ball

It's the crap crappiest season of all!

There are berries for growing

 Eight octopus legs showing

 And heroes on the half shell

 A lobster comes pinching

 My skeleton costume is cinching

 In fact it's annoying as hell!

It's the most horror-ible time of the year!

There'll be much trick-or-treating

It feels so defeating

I could at least use a beer

It's the most horror-ible time of the year!

A rose by any other random name...

I don't actually know of many other names for roses, but as I have mentioned before, coming up with titles for posts sometimes can take me longer than actually writing anything else. Let's not get ourselves into a thorny situation over the whole thing. See what I did there? Trying to bring it all together. Make sense? What about scents? Let's talk about beans! (Did you follow that thought process?)

I do not like lima beans. They appear harmless enough, but have been known to mess up a perfectly good bag of mixed vegetables. I was not a fan of baked beans when I was a kid due to a texture issue. (Can we agree right now to not use the phrase "mouthfeel"? Ew.) Anyway, much like how I have developed a taste for chocolate frosting, (or really nothing like that, because who seriously compares beans to frosting?) a wide variety of baked beans have found their way into my heart (beans are good for it I hear). One of my favorite recipes calls for an assortment of canned beans: kidney, black, navy, butter. There are not many butter beans in each can, so they are sort of a treasure in the mix. Yum. I did a double take at the grocery store yesterday when I saw these on the shelf...

See that smaller print? "Large lima beans". Oh. Hell. No. Don't you try to insinuate that those delightful yellowish beans are actually pastel green lima beans in disguise. You look pretty smug there little boy with your hands in your pockets and eyeballs mid roll - as if you know you have the potential to spoil this for me.

Remember that fanny pack sighting in August? That was one of the first times I had seen a fanny pack displayed prominently on a store shelf since the nineties. I thought they were basically just dirty little secret relics that everyone had stashed away in their closets in case of garage sales, or other plausible and practical excuses. "Fanny pack" - just funny, at least to my inner seven year old. (I found Fannie Flagg's name hilarious when I actually was seven.) Not quite as catchy, or amusing, but I suppose this does capture the utilitarian nature of the product...

It's 2016, so go grab yourself a Double Zip Waist Pack! (Not quite the same ring to it, right?)

Decisions, decisions

It has been raining for over thirty hours here and if I am to believe the forecast, we are looking at over twenty-four more hours of the same. The way I see it, I have two choices:

Under the blanket...

 ...or over the blanket!

Random relics

Oh, hi! Nice to see you. Let me just finish up these dishes from 1975.

I don't know what I loved more, doing the dishes at my grandparents' house, or wearing that dress. Difficult to say. That wallpaper certainly brings back memories. Remember a couple of weeks ago when I told you I had a story about baked potatoes? Of course you do, and that reason alone may be why you've come back. Well, today is the day!

When I was a kid, my grandmother had a special way of making baked potatoes. I assumed she had gotten her potato hardware from a fancy chef supply store.

It wasn't until decades later that I realized these were just nails, as opposed to potato nails. Sigh...like seeing Oz behind the curtain. I can't say that I remember the potatoes being cooked any better than what I have achieved without a trip to Home Depot. I do remember there being a brown spot through the well-cooked middle, thanks to the hot metal, of each potato. I probably moved that around my plate for awhile.

Truth be told, I have never really had a difficult time getting my baked potato centers to the desired doneness. Of course now that I am in possession of these high quality kitchen tools, some experimenting is called for. Must add sour cream to the grocery list! 

Oktoberfoz?

Oh hey! Glad my assistant could squeeze this typing in to her, allegedly, busy day. I just hope you are all enjoying OKtober, and the fest that goes along with it. Go ahead, let loose, maybe get a pretzel stuck to your face!

I am just so relieved this isn't OCtober with that awful holiday with the ridiculous costumes...phew. Wait, why are you smirking? And why are you stockpiling candy even moreso than usual?

random rant, I guess

I just started pretending to enjoy candy corn a few years ago. The husband likes to dabble in a bowl of seasonal waxy goodness, and I have issues with not partaking in candy bowl treats. As a kid, I wanted to want to eat those fun pumpkin shapes, but just could not commit to that big of a mouthful of yuck. I respect candy corn and its harvest mix friend's place in seasonal confectionery offerings, because the colors and shapes are second to none. However, I refuse to see any purpose in the Easter candy corn. Now I see that the corn has become just another food item facing an identity crisis. Perhaps this is just a way for people to admit that candy corn flavored candy corn is kind of gross, so let's make new flavors. Does anyone really need permission to eat candy for breakfast?

Oh, sorry, I guess candy for brunch is far more acceptable. Now we can all be like Violet Beauregarde and have our meal in a Wonka-like piece of candy! (I hope nobody turns pink from the waffles and strawberry.) I am not buying it...literally, not buying it. (You can probably guess my thoughts on the new candy corn Oreos I saw. Just stop.)

A debate

Very often Facebook provides insight into people's beliefs and opinions that we may not have already been privy to. Perhaps the issue at hand has to be teased out of something that may at first seem purely anecdotal on the surface. Considering that we are deep in the midst of debate season, I thought I would share my story, starting with the following Facebook post I read...

It's true. I have had a migraine for 5 days and now I can't help myself nor can I even try to filter my mouth at times ... Well, most of the time... Ok! All the time. Truly, I own this. At target this morning and a mess of a woman in her late 40's, a Coke in her hand and wearing pj bottoms.. Seriously? pj bottoms?? ... and the poor polite cashier are having a conversation regarding Cape Cod... You see where this is going yet? Yes-- quietly I waited as the conversation turns to the "gay agenda" and her stating she's afraid we will take over. Me: "Honey, you are safe. As a card carrying member, YOU wouldn't even earn a toaster oven. We will require you to brush your hair and put that ass in pants when in public". #nofilter. #gayintrouble

I had NO idea he had such strong negative feelings about pajama bottoms. I love pajama bottoms, so of course wondered what this could mean for our friendship. When we had a chance to discuss the issue, I learned that the public display was the issue, not just a random assault on jammies, plus the loungewear in question was adorned with Spongebob. I also learned that the verbal exchange concluded with him telling her to "Put some damn pants on!" I realized he might actually be on to something, and perhaps I could support his rally cry on some level afterall, but still had a few nagging doubts. This was not a clearly defined issue for me as far as when pajamas were acceptable. I did not want to risk having guilt, or second-guessing, tarnish the comfort of my pj time. I opted for a loose interpretation, and carried on with my life, until one day when we were chatting on facebook...

a friend is dropping something off in a few minutes…I didn't even bother to get dressed…can we still be friends

Yes.

To be clear, I have on pajama shorts, not pants…TOTALLY DIFFERENT

But is the effort to put on a pair of jeans and a shirt that great?

I'd have to give up talking to you

hahahaha

It's the bra that does it…too much!

These are the questions you have to ask yourself when you know somebody's coming to your door - Is the effort so great ...so daunting ...that I can't even get on a pair of pants and a shirt

and I have on sneakers that would have to be removed…yes, sneakers…with my pj's

so there's the effort right there

It's like you're shopping at Walmart but you're home

Can I please put this conversation on my blog later this week

Please. Help others

i am running upstairs to change…if I fall, this is on you…my hair will still be a mess...

Wear a baseball hat.... Did you brush your teeth?

I ask because I fear that you probably have not knowing that you're still in pajamas and it's 1230 in the afternoon. So of course I have this image of you greeting your friend with the pajamas, sneakers and bad breath

Dammit Jeff! I don't like what I am wearing and didn't brush my teeth and a baseball hat would look ridiculous with this shirt

off to brush...

They'll appreciate your brushing as well as the added layers of clothes. You don't want your friend actually thinking you will be leaving the house in that get up knowing that you have sneakers on....

See how easy that was

She is dropping off a bucket of cookie dough I ordered from her daughter…I thought my previous look was appropriate for that!

Aside from you having the flu, I actually don't think there is a time that that would be appropriate to greet a friend .... Just saying. Put some damn pants on.

So now I am trying to remember what sort of mess I was last Friday when I saw you and debating a salon visit before Thursday's visit

Just promise not to silently judge me…say that shit right out loud!

You were fine on Friday! But who doesn't love to go to the salon??? Pampered and prepped to battle the upcoming weeks. I'm rarely silent. And, glad that you shared that your friend was coming over and what you were wearing. Think of her perception as she drives away from your house knowing that you're wearing pajamas and sneakers and she's just dropped off a tub of cookie dough .... She would probably wonder how much Prozac you were on.... Alone with a tub of cookie dough and pajamas

I had warned her that I was pajamaed, as that was why I wasn't walking over to her house right then for the dough. I should have just thrown on a cape and gone for it…would that have been the final straw?

True though remember .... Somethings cannot be unseen. Although a picture of you in the cape and the pajamas walking down the street with a tub of cookie dough would be awesome

Just for the record, my theory on walking the dog in my pajamas is that it isn't so much about showing the neighbors that I don't care, but rather showing them how much I care about Foz that I am willing to put his needs before my own.

Poor Foz.... You say he's angry now I understand

Poor Foz?!?!?! He assaults my legs with his claws in an overexcited frenzy to go outside coupled with the threat of a coughing jag and I am the bad guy for getting him out there ASAP!!!

In the end, Foz is just trying to figure out how he's gonna make a break for it

Got my cookie dough, and she said she does not change for a drop off either! hahahahahaha

I appreciated his thoughts regarding this issue, but also decided that I could respect his feelings without threatening my own beliefs about the joy of wearing pajamas "around the house"...which may very well extend to the street I live on, possibly well past noon. This is how I showed up at his house on my next visit, but with a change of clothes, because we were going to Target.

Somewhere out there

My husband and daughter are mocking me, sitting there on the other side of the couch snickering. "Wow, so early in the season." More giggles as I accidentally close my screen after finally finding the website with the live stats. I quietly fumble to get myself back together. I announce the score, and am not sure if I am supposed to pretend I don't see the exchanged smirks and glances. They can feign disinterest, but their curiosity will peak eventually.

College hockey season has started, and my son experiences some superfandom over it. I am barely even a casual observer of hockey, and haven't been to a game since I went to one in college. There are plenty of Sabres games viewed in our family room, but I admit to being barely able to keep track of the puck unless there is a slow motion replay. I did not tag along to any of the games last year, yet I do feel compelled to keep tabs on the RIT home games.

I know that is where my son is. I know when he and his friends are part of a roaring crowd as I see another goal scored. We send quick texts that serve as a kind of virtual high-five. Between periods I typically get some shorthand commentary. The other couch dwellers don't know that right now the score is 3-1 with RIT leading at the end of the first period. But I do, which means I also know there is a kid going bananas with his friends in the student section. I just got the "Holy poop!" text.

Remember An American Tail? Two mice, thousands of miles apart, comforted by the notion that they were looking at the same night sky? This is MY Mousekewitz moment of sorts. Go Tigers!


**Update: After score being 5-1, in a matter of four minutes, it is now 5-5. Almost the end of the second period and I just got the "I cannot even talk about it" text. Tune in with us...hahahahaha!

**Update: RIT lost 5-6...ouch. They are "fuming" and unhappy with the refs. However, he did get three more autographs. It helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky.

Hair and makeup!

I knew I should have had some concerns about doing something new with my hair. I guess I thought my handlers would, well, you know, HANDLE it!

Um, you don't have handlers. We own you.

That sounds slightly less glamorous, don't you think?

I can assure you that there is nothing glamorous about it at all.

So nobody is going to sweep in and help me with this coiffure?

Not unless somebody shows up to deal with mine. Nice word you used, by the way, makes us seem fancy. Granted there is no hair, no makeup, but what about wardrobe? I think we have someone for that!

Wardrobe?

Yes, it is one of our dear girl's favorite times of the year...

Nooooooooooo, not this again!