A Case of the Mondays

Yo, it's VDog from VDog & Little Man. I shall attempt to entertain you today as Christine's last guest poster (as far as I know).  You can usually find me Twittering or Plurking and occasionally writing and posting photos on my blog.

If you keep up with my blog at all, you would know that this past week I got all hormonal on yo' azzez and then lightened things up yesterday with some photos of the Little Man.  It's been a long week for all of us, so I figured, instead of some occasionally brilliant writing, how about some links to go have a looksy about?

First, some yummy fluffy funny things:  Cake Wrecks and FAIL blog.

Second, if you've ever been depressed, this was an amazing post to read (or probably even if you've never been depressed?).  Miss ZoeyJane really BROUGHT IT.

Third, Pundit Mom wrote an interesting piece about our value (to advertisers) as mommybloggers and the different topics we write about. Apparently Politics isn't worth as much as Potty Training. Huh.

Fourth, and finally, you MUST go check out this post from our girl Dawn at kaiseralex.com: Vote for Most Disturbing Item.  Girlfriend brings bereavement to a whole notha' level.

Don't forget to cut out early today and recover from the weekend.  It IS Monday afterall.

Hope the move went great, my Cracker friend Christine!!

Kansas Aquatic Center

JackieW. forumed for years until dipping into the blog world early this year & blogs @ Buried in Legos and Bologna Donuts. She twitters & plurks as Abbreviated. She homeschools in Kansas with a husband, 3 sons, one grandson, 2 dogs, a cat & a herd of Belted Galloway beef cattle.

Spent 2 weeks driving kids to swimming lessons.

When I was growing up this was called a swimming pool.

Now it's called an aquatic center.

The move that almost wasn't

Hi, I'm Jennifer and I'm keeping the blog warm over here today. Usually,you can find me at Toast on the Ceiling or contributing for BlissfullyDomestic.

When Christine said she needed guest bloggers to help out while she moved, I jumped on it. I'm totally thrilled she picked me. When she said I could write about anything I wanted, I knew I had a story to share (and hope her move does not end this way).

I'm talking about our move to the house we live in now.

Back in May, 2001 it was James and I. No kids, no pets (this was a blessing with everything that happened). We loved the townhouse we lived in, but no one wanted to visit us, it was at least a 30 minute drive. Add to that a condo association that thought they were God and wacky neighbors (one guy washed his car in the garage), we did what everyone else was doing.

We decided to move. Back to my hometown.

After we found the best house (it isn't perfect), we had to list our house. We thought it was a blessing we had "sold" it in a week and we would move in a little over a month.

The first couple weeks after it sold was no problem. We packed, cleaned and got things in order.

The next couple weeks turned into a nightmare. Thankfully, we had a lawyer. The people who were to buy the townhouse had some problems with their credit. The loan looked like it wasn't going to be approved. The closing was on, the closing was off.

Every day brought different news.

Finally we got to the day before the closing and I had left work early to come home and finish packing. There was a call from our lawyer. Basically, it looked like the closing was off, the financing would not go through for the buyers, but come anyway to the closing. So I cancelled the movers and we packed some more, but didn't think this was going to work.

Which meant we would lose the new house and we were staying with the crazy neighbors and the condo board from hell. The day of closing we got up, cleaned and went to the title company. We met our lawyer, signed what we could without the buyers, and sat in a conference room for 45 minutes before the buyers showed up with their lawyer. The loan had been a go at the last minute, with changed terms. Half a page into the loan paperwork, the husband was arguing with the lawyer.

We were shooed out of the conference room to wait in a cubicle while the husband's lawyer argued with the loan company. We had to hunt down movers from the phone book since it looked to be a go. After several phone calls, we found someone who would charge 4x as much as we budgeted, but they could be there. We were supposed to be out of the house already and the buyers were not happy we were still there.

Finally, after half an hour, the husband had releneted and would take the loan. We were called back into the room and they went over the terms with the husband. 11.5% interest, pre-payment penalty, the list went on of restrictions and penalties. I sat at the table thinking any second the deal would be bust. The husband signed paper after paper, not the wife.

Finally, they got to a document the wife had to sign stating she understood the financial implications of not being on the title. She flatly refused. For religious reasons. So, add another 10 minutes while two lawyers tried to convince her to sign the paper. I think she finally did, but it was like pulling teeth.

Then there was the issue we were not out of the house which was totally the buyers fault. We had to give them a $1000 check guaranteeing we would be out by 9pm (which was sent back uncashed a week later). We said no problem, all was done. After almost three hours.

James and I ran out of there to get home. Well, James went home to meet my dad to finish on the packing and I had to go to the insurance company to finish the policy for the new home (which was to closed on the same day, but moved to two days later due to insurance problem with the roof of new house). Got back home to deal with the movers. They sent nine guys to our house tomove. Nine guys who had no clue or common sense. One guy tried to move the gas dryer without disconnecting it. Another dumped James' entire StarWars figure collection out of their pre-packed boxes into a wardrobe box and packed stuff on top of it. And the fun went on.

We shoved anything worth something into three cars and tried to keep the movers from packing essential items. Like my bag of clothes for the next few days. James wasn't so lucky. Before he could stop the movers, all his stuff was on the truck. We were out of the house at 7 pm. Had started at 2:30. Not too bad.

James waited for the new owners to come and get the keys. My dad and I drove back to my parent's house to unload some of the stuff since we would be staying in a hotel for a couple days. Which turned into a week, since the moving company forgot to schedule us to get the items out of storage and moved to the new house. And then stole all of James' tools and a step ladder.

This is why I will never move again.

I hope Christine's is going much better than this.

Yes, I am the Butt of the Joke

Todays awesome guest poster is TLC, who can usually be found at Send Chocolate. Enjoy!

While no_watch_me is gone, I offered to guest post for her.  I thought I would show my butt.  Or rather, my son's butt...wait, let me back up.  He did enough showing for everyone....

He is nine now. This happened when he was four.

It wasn't something he said, not this time. We were standing in line at The Evil Hamburger place, hereafter known as McDonalds. I was hungry and tired, and had three kids in tow who were also hungry and tired. The line was moving at a snail's pace, the cashier wasn't moving at all. We waited. My one year old was in the sling, squirmy and awake. She wanted my attention. My 8 year old was trying to be on her best behavior, but she had grown weary of the hold up. She wanted to eat. Now. Even if it was McDonalds.

My son has autism. He has no mouth filter. He makes rash decisions. Bored and with nothing to do, he struck up a conversation with the man in front of us. I eyed the stranger warily. The conversation started the way they always did: "Do you like Indiana Jones? I have seen Raiders of the Lost Ark, it's a good movie, did you like it?" The man agreed, it was a good movie and that Indy was cool and yes, his hat was cool and yes, son's hat was cool, too. I breathed a little, so far, there hadn't been anything out of ordinary. That was about to change.

My son was diagnosed with high-functioning autism, but not until the end of Kindergarten. At this point, he was just "quirky." The line moved up, just a little. Still two people were in front of me. Was this ever going to end? We needed Chicken McNuggets! Some fairly loud and boisterous construction workers joined the line, which was now fairly long. We waited some more as the guy in front of us was ordering.

I tend to start up conversations in line with random strangers. It seems to be the curse of my semi-extroverted personality. I say semi-extroverted because when I am home alone, I revel in my aloneness. But when I am out, I will actually talk to other people. The introverts in my house don't understand it. Luckily, my son is an absolute extrovert and likes to talk to people. People don''t always like to listen, however. The burly construction guy asked how old my kids were, and here it comes the requisite, "You certainly have your hands full," along with my stock answer: "Yes, and my heart is full as well." About this time, my son decided to horn in on the conversation. Being polite, Mr. Big & Burly Construction Guy turrned and asked him his name. I have no idea what possessed my son. To this day, he still doesn't know.

We are standing there, in the middle of a food establishment as loosely defined as McDonalds is food and my son, the fruit of my loins, turned around, pulled his pants down and mooned the entire line of customers! I stood frozen in shock while the construction crew guffawed loudly. That was when, the voice of sanity spoke up. It was my daughter, wise beyond her years. "He is SO mortifying!" said she. Why yes. Yes, he is.

What's Your Soft-Boiled Egg?

Today's post is brought to you by the letter L, for Lara. Lara can usually be found over at Life: The Ongoing Education, which also starts with the letter L. As you can see, the letter L is a precocious brat and won't leave us alone. Please enjoy Lara's lovely literary contributions.

“I couldn’t exist the way you do, Henry; I like my warm toast and tea and soft-boiled egg brought to me on a tray in bed each morning. Whenever I even think of Walden, I get a cold. But I admire you, Henry, I really do. You’re my walking ethic!”

Okay, okay. Let’s get a couple things out of the way. First of all, I’m a high school English teacher, which means I’m a big literary geek. So even though what I’m going to talk about here is kind of superficial and fluffy, I’m going to lead it off with some critical analysis of a play. You’ll have to forgive me.

Secondly, you’ll just have to remember that I’m not your beloved Christine, so you may have to have a little patience with my poor pitiful self, just trying to keep y’all entertained while she’s away. There is an opportunity for audience participation later, so keep your eyes peeled.

Now, back to the quote. It comes from a play called The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail, which is a fictional accounting of some real events in Henry David Thoreau’s life. Thoreau is most famously remembered as a “rebel” who openly disagreed with many of the U.S. government’s policies in the nineteenth century. He retreated to Walden pond, to live in harmony with nature, free from what he believed to be a corrupt society. He was, to put it mildly, a little radical in his thinking.

Ralph Waldo Emerson was his mentor, a fellow writer, and a well-known orator. The people listened to Emerson and his ideas, when they happily ignored Thoreau. But Emerson tried to make changes from within the society, living within its rules, speaking in moderation. In the quote above, Emerson is responding to Thoreau, who is angry at Emerson for not taking more drastic action in protest of injustice. And Emerson says, “I like my warm toast and tea and soft-boiled egg brought to me on a tray in bed each morning.”

I know, many of you are having an initial response of, “What the hell does that have to do with it?”

(The rest of you are either yawning in total boredom or you’ve stopped reading long before now.)

Emerson’s point is that his life is more worth living when he has the little insignificant pleasures in his day. To him, having breakfast in bed keeps him happy, and that lets him keep working for change. If he gave it all up and moved to a cabin in the woods to protest, he would lose interest – it just wouldn’t be worth it.

I see a lot of moms who think they need to pour their whole lives into their children and house. And don’t get me wrong, I think that’s admirable – it’s just not always practical. Some women would be better off taking an hour once a week to completely ignore the kids, leave them with a babysitter, and treat herself to a mani/pedi at the local salon. By keeping that “me time” in her schedule, she’s actually better at her work as a mother, and that means she should not feel guilty about keeping it.

It’s the same when we think about making changes in the world around each and every one of us. Should we be taking steps to be more environmentally conscious? Yes, of course. But should we be taking radical steps and getting rid of each and every piece of our life that we enjoy that might possibly leave a carbon footprint? Well, that might just make us want to give up the fight completely. Should I be donating some of my money each month to charity? Yes, definitely. But should I be donating every last cent that I don’t need for food and rent? Well, without any niceties whatsoever, what keeps me waking up every morning?

So here’s the thing – my “toast and tea and soft-boiled egg”? For me, those are shoes. My latest purchase is this lovely pair from Target. New shoes make me happy. They’re superficial and shallow and completely insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but they make me happy. And happy people can make a lot of changes in the world.

So what is your toast and tea? What are your soft-boiled eggs? What are the luxuries you wouldn’t want to do without? Come on – I know you’ve got some good answers lurking out there, and I want to hear ‘em!

Do you have imaginary friends?

Today's guest poster is Mel, who blogs regularly at A Box of Chocolates where she shares samples of her life as a wife to one, mom to three, and teacher to many.

Why do I do this to myself? One day I am going to learn to keep my mouth shut, or maybe I should say, my fingers still.

When Christine twittered that she was looking for some guest posters to baby-sit her blog my fingers, completely on their own, somehow twittered back that I would be honored to be a guest poster if she would have me. I mean she is Christine after all…Dr. Diva over Blissfully Domestic, where may I add that I am just a lowly Food Diva. Of course being the polite person that she is she gave in to my request to guest post and well here I am.

So could somebody tell me, what does one actually do when they guest post? Talk about this blog, talk about the author, talk about their blog, talk about themselves. Sheez. This is tough.

Well I’ll give it shot. Here we go. My first guest post.

Blogs, blogging, blogger. It’s all foreign to some and others just don’t get it.

When I first began blogging I didn’t really tell many people. Once I got some posts up and running I emailed the URL to distant family and friends so they could see pictures of my kids and what we have been up to. Many responded that they thought the blog was a great idea and enjoyed looking at the pictures of the kids. Of course I got the usual question, “Are you sure you want to post that much information about your family on the web?” (we’ll discuss that one during another babysitting time), but other than that they were all pretty supportive.

Then I discovered the Blogosphere where there were many just like me, and some that were so very much not like me, that I loved them too. I met amazing women and was even proud to call a few of them friends. Friends that I had never met, but friends nevertheless. As my excitement over this newfound community grew I found myself talking about my blog and blogging in general to my real life friends. After all it was my hobby so why shouldn’t I talk about it as they would talk about scrap booking, or cooking, or working out, or whatever it is that they did. I was proud of my blog.

For some of them they were intrigued. They asked how I got started, why I liked it, what it was like to meet other bloggers, how I decide what to write, how I find new blogs to read, and a plethora of other questions. For others they just kind of smiled and nodded and life went on.

They were happy that I was happy and it worked. Then for some, well they think it is just straight out strange. Such as the friend who told me during a girl’s night out, “It’s so weird that you are friends with all these people you have never met. It’s kind of like when you are a kid and instead of just having one or two imaginary friends you have an entire group.”

Uh no. Not really considering my “imaginary friends” have lives and blogs of their own, where you know, I can see their pictures and everything. Not to mention imaginary friends can’t leave comments so they wouldn’t be any good to me even in the blogosphere!

(Dude, I hear you! You are my REAL friend! Thanks! - Christine)

Please extend a warm Watch me! No, watch me! welcome...

...to my guest posters for the next few days!

As I pack up my household ONCE AGAIN and relocate a couple of miles away ONCE AGAIN, some lovely and generous bloggers have volunteer their time and talent to keep things hopping here.

You won't be dissapointed, pinky swear.

If I can bake bread, anyone can

This is the last guest poster while I am whooping it up at BlogHer. Actually, today I am packing up all of my swag and spending some much needed quality time with my family before we jump on a train and head East towards home.

Anyway, this wonderful blogger is Astacia from Life on the Run. Okay, I'm going to shut up now and let you read.


I read Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food, this past winter. His words solidified my fears about conventional food. His rule on “If You Can't Say It Don't Eat” is my grocery mantra. We gave up packaged foods about two years ago. I should correct that and say most packaged foods.


We were eating a loaf every two days. I was buying 4-6 loaves every grocery shopping trip. I tried to stick with whole grain, no HFCS varieties. Then I looked at their ingredient labels. All of them had a long list of unpronounceable substances. There was no way I could remove bread from our diet. My kids would shrivel up before the end of the day. I needed a worthy substitute.


For years, I had been telling my friends “I cook but I don't bake.” To me, baking required precision and dedication. I could handles cookies but “baking from scratch” sent shivers down my spine. My soufflés collapsed, my pie crusts were dry, my cakes didn't rise.


Everytime I bought a loaf of bread at the store I cringed. I knew I could do better. I gave in to the nagging on my weekly trip to the Goodwill. There was a Mr. Coffee bread machine with instruction manual for $7.99. the directions seemed simple. The ingredient list was small. So I took it home.


My first loaf was a hit. It used the basic recipe and my husband and kids devoured it. The smell of baking bread is addicting. Not all of my loaves were successful. I have learned that baking bread is an art form much like cooking. It does not require the attention to detail that I thought I did. It turns out that baking one loaf at a time is simple. There are four ingredients for a basic loaf (flour, water, yeast and salt) and then you can experiment from there. No tiptoeing around the kitchen. No proofing of yeast or hours of kneading.


It has taken six months of baking two or three days per week for me to hit my stride. Now I have a solid routine. First, I put the ingredients in the machine according to the manufacturer's instructions. Then I set it on he dough cycle. I have discovered than I like to finish my bread in the oven. I set my timer for one hour. That's 30 minutes of mixing and then a 30 minute rise in the machine. When the timer rings, I pull out the dough, knead out the large bubbles on a floured board. I place the dough into a large loaf pan and rise it on my preheated oven for 30 minutes and toss it in the oven. 25-30 minutes later we have fresh bread.

Yummm...thanks, Astacia! Tomorrow, I'll totally dish all about BlogHer for all of you!

Another Satisfied Customer

Good Morning Watch Me Readers! Chris is getting her blog on at BlogHer - WHATEVER - so you get to watch me today. Most days you can find me over at Rainy Day Diamonds chattering about whatever catches my eye, sometimes its books, sometimes its what goes on in my classroom or with my crazy Boxer Babes, or even the funny sight I'm sharing with you today. Whatever it is, my hope is that it encourages you to Find Joy in the Dewdrops and Downpours of Life.

I love me some Micky D’s! Where else can you get 42 ounces of ice cold Diet Coke for under a dollar? There’s nothing like that fizzy sting in your nose on a hot summer day.

Ooooh, pulling into the drive through lane of my neighborhood Golden Arches I anticipated that very sting – imagining it, in fact, when I choked on the fantasy nectar and spewed its carbonated goodness all over the dashboard of my beautiful new Santa Fe.

How about we call them Betty and Pebbles?

Now it looks to me like Betty was out shopping and, like any responsible pet owner, did not want to leave Pebbles alone in a sweltering vehicle, so she did the only reasonable thing. She chose the drive through. Wouldn’t you? Of course you would.

Like any respectful customer, she placed her order and patiently waited her turn in line.

Ahh…she’s a girl after my own heart - A Super-Sized Cup of Ambrosia.

Another satisfied customer!

Ruby promised me she kept a straight face, but I'm not buying it. Not for one minute!

Hello to all Christine’s readers!

I’m Katja and I’m honored to guest blog here while your lovely blogger Christine is at BlogHer.

I blog about my crazy life with three kids and a helicopter pilot husband at Skimbaco Lifestyle Blog - and I’m also a founder of a store with a same name, Skimbaco.com.

You might know me as the lucky lady who sent Suri Cruise some shoes and her father Tom Cruise showed them to Oprah on Oprah show. You might have also read that my children have all born in three different countries while our world travels. I’m from far away too. I’m from Finland, from the North corner of Europe.

While I would love to tell you that my life is all glamorous, I confess: it’s not, unless I make it so! Like Christine, I believe that when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade.

My life isn’t glamorous, I’m just making lemonade!

I have experienced amazing things in life not because I’ve never had any bitter lemons, but because I have had so many. While it such a cliché to say that when one door closes, other one opens, not enough many people live it that way. I do.

Be adventurous, try new things, meet different people and don’t be afraid to do something that isn’t quite the norm. You never now what you find when you take the unkown route instead the safe old one.

I enjoy the little journey called life and I truly believe almost anything in life is possible and you can achieve any dream of yours.

Not saying that it’s easy, but it is possible.

I’ve always annoyed my sister by saying that sure she could buy her dream car, Porsche, if she really wanted to. She just has to want it bad enough. She keeps telling me she doesn’t have enough money, like most people would.

I say that even you or me could buy a Porsche, if we really wanted to.

It might mean selling a house. Taking a second job. Never going to movies nor eating at restaurants. No shoe shopping, no manicures or pedicures. Saving on groceries, and saying no to vacations. Driving a bicycle to work while saving money for the dream car. Selling the collectibles, designer handbags or expensive sporting equipment from your closets. It might take months or even years of saving money. But anyone can do it, if truly passionately motivated.



I met a man of my dreams in Germany. Month later he was gone, he flew back to United States. I was a penniless student in Germany, making very little money as a nanny. I saved money to buy a flight ticket back to Finland (where I’m from) and arrived with my bank account empty and a couple of bucks in my pocket.

I was determined to get a job and save enough money so I could come to the US and see the man of my dreams again.

I got a job bottling shampoo in a shampoo factory and I was there less than 48 hours after my flight had landed. This might not be as of a shocking job if you didn’t know my previous jobs, like being a runway model or a ”face” for a huge national company with pictures of me on billboards advertising their products.

I bottled shampoo for one week, then I got a job in a small hotel on the side of a highway. I worked 12-hour-days, 7 days a week. I had my receptionist shifts, and after 8 hours of that, I cleaned rooms and bartended during the weekends.

It was horrible.

But I did it for three months, while living in my grandmother’s house. And I saved enough money for the flight ticket and to stay here for three months.

My friends and family thought I had gone crazy. I was ”wasting my life” I heard. I should have been studying management books and dating lawyers-to-be, not foreign helicopter pilots.

But one week after I had arrived in the US (for the first time), the man of my dreams proposed me (and we spent the money to buy furniture to our first home together).

We just celebrated our tenth anniversary this month. We have three beautiful children, and right now when you are reading this we are moving from Colorado to New York, towards new adventures together.

It might all be crazy, but wasting my life? I don’t think so. I’m living my life.

California cell phone ban just makes oh so much sense!

I've tried to avoid this rant, but screw it...I'm pissed.

As of July first, California passed a law and now it is illegal to drive with a cell phone to your ear. It's not illegal to use a cell phone while driving mind you; you just can't have it to your ear. There have been ads and commercials galore here for months, "Get your hands-free device to comply with the law!"

Why is this? The person who wrote the bill was worried about people driving distracted by their cell phones. Never mind that there are already laws in place against driving distracted...we needed to have one specifically addressing cell phones, it seems.

Oh, and there aren't any studies indicating that driving distracted by a cell phone is somehow more dangerous than driving distracted by, oh I dunno...kids. Or CD changing. Or fast-food eating. Or make-up application.

Now, let's walk through this, shall we?

You're driving, and your cell phone rings. Since it's unlikely you have your little ear thingy in, you need to fumble around and find it. Distracting. You need to shove it in your ear. Distracting. After that you are as engaged in the conversation as you would be if you were holding the cell to your ear, right? Still distracted!

Let's say you want to make a call. You can. You can still dial your phone. Distracting!

And guess what! You can still text while driving. Because that's not at all distracting!

I can also still use the speaker phone function of my cell, and hold it up to my mouth so that the person to whom I am speaking can hear me. Right in front of my face. In my field of vision. No, not at all distracting.

Furthermore, if I so chose, I can hold a banana to my ear while I drive. That's not illegal. I can hold a latte to my ear, or a flashlight, or a stuffed animal. Just not a cell phone.

Because that would be too distracting.

Once more, our tax dollars hard at work!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Onto a happier topic...

BlogHer is just days away now. Like, count-on-one-hand-days away.

Do you think I can lose twenty pounds by Friday? No? I didn't think so.

So, if you are going to BlogHer and we meet and take a photo together, please make sure your camera has the "Shed Twenty Pounds Off Subject Filter," on, 'kay? Thanks!

While I am gone, all laptopless and cameraless (really, someone ought to just buy me this stuff so I stop complaining), my blog will be in great hands. As everyone wants a piece of Watch Me Christine, my inbox was not literally flooded with hundreds of requests to guest post while I'm at BlogHer.


There were enough, however, to grab a hat, throw in a handful of names, and draw some straws. Or, rather, names from a hat. Mixing metaphors is never a good idea.


And thus, without further ado...here are the keepers of my castle while I am away. These are some amazing women. It's hard to guest post; you are putting yourself out there in a whole different way. I'd love it if you gave them some comment love (this is a great time to de-lurk)!



We've got:

• Darla, from Beauty Inside and Out, is a dear friend of mine. She has been nudging me along, ever so gently for months, to get my ass in gear and get my online store up and running. And by nudging, I mean sharing every last bit of information she's gained over the years, and her advice is full of pearls because her store has had phenomenal success. She is also very active in her 11-year-old's life and holding down the home front when her Chief-of-Police husband is working his long shifts.
• And there is Katja, who has personally made me four degrees from Oprah. And three degrees from TomKat. She will be gracing us with her words. She is a beautiful soul (and, dangit, is beautiful outside, too...she used to be a model) and never fails to inspire. You can find her at Skimbaco.
• Astacia, a tweeting friend of mine, blogs at Life on the Run will be doing me the honor of sharing some of her insights while I'm gone.
• Kim, also a tweeting buddy, is from Rainy Day Diamonds, has a funny tale to tell about a recent expedition she took. Hilarious!