KindleObsessedJust another random rambling!!

Hey Kindle-ites!

Just wanted to let all of you know that I haven’t forgotten about you. I did indeed plan on having the review for “Do The Math” up for y’all today, but unfortunately car+reading=no bueno (aka serious amounts of childlike carsickness.) So as an ill effect to me being stuck inside a slow moving vehicle with 2 small children, and “Aliens in the Attic” stuck on loop in the backseat, I’ve got nothing for you. I will however have it up and ready for you on Wednesday. Until then do some shopping in my “Book Rants” you never know what type of goodies you missed the first go round.

Happy Reading my Fellow Travelers and remember: Spring Break is only 1 week… Then you can ship the little demons (I mean angels) back to some other sucker.

Misty

Every parent, at one time or another, questions their ability to raise their children. “How is it”…we ask ourselves…”that we take these tiny little beings and form them into stable, productive members of society?” “How is it exactly, that am I supposed to take this child, the one who runs around like a chicken with its head cut off, hopped up on jelly bellies, and jumping off of furniture like he’s practicing for the Olympics, and turn him into someone who is… not me?”

Well, sorry, you are out of luck.. I don’t have a freaking clue as how to answer either of those questions. What I do have however, is a child that has developed my somewhat ridicules affinity for the warped. (Oh yea!)

As we sat (my 2 small children and I) at a stop light this morning my son (who is 5) decides to do a little back seat driving. “Slow down mommy.” He says to me as I turn the corner at a whopping 3 miles an hour. “If you don’t slow down you are going to tip us over…and then I’m going to die…cause the car is going to cut me into a gazillion pieces.”

“What??” I say, as I stare in stunned horror at my child through the rearview mirror. “You are kidding right? Did you really just say that??”

Alas…yes he did indeed say that…which inadvertently got me to thinking about the other random disturbing things he has said lately, for example: “Mommy… see that ambulance…there’s a dead person in there.” “No honey…” (I say in my warm, calming, mommy voice) “lets hope not…let’s just hope they have a boo boo and the doctors can fix them right up.” “Nope!” he says to me “She’s dead.. I saw her through the glass.”

So now…as a compulsitory result to my child’s wild train of thought, I am now sitting here pondering the mysteries of my child when I should be working. I regretfully and thankfully have come to a conclusion though.

I…Misty…suck at being a parent.

I should probably be more attentive as to what he is watching on TV (maybe Southland and Bones wasn’t such a good idea.) Or.. maybe I should consider looking closely at the lyrics to the songs he likes to listen to on my iPod. (All American Rejects? Hum… ) Or…better yet…maybe I should just lock him in his bedroom with nothing but happy smiling stuffed animals and the “Wiggles” set to repeat on his CD player.

Do you know the answers? Probably not…so I’ll leave you with this: always look on the Brightside…at least if he wants to be a doctor he won’t be squeamish.

Here is an oldie but a goodie posted way back in 2006!! I still rings true for me, so I thought I would share it with my new audience.  Enjoy!

This Is How I See It!!!

As pathetic as this may be to admit, reading… to me… is a guilty pleasure. I am quite convinced that I am the only person in existence than can blow $100 in B&N in 5 minutes; at the $1.00 table. While some of you are subjected to the addictive thrills of smoking or drinking, I turn to a book for comfort.

When most of us were still small children a movie was released called the “Neverending Story”. Now, while I hate this movie it does enforce my exuberant need for daily literature. This “gimmicky” and “trite” movie simply insinuates that it is possible to loose yourself in a book. While the movie takes an indisputably literal turn, I remain a believer in the disappearance of ones true self through the pages of a book.

I love a rather large selection of authors, however the one that intrigues me the most would have to be Jane Austen. Out of all of the books that I have metaphorically leaped into, hers are my most enjoyable. Let me simplify for you. She uses “Real” women as the heroines of her stories. For example, let me introduce you to Ms. Elizabeth Bennett of “Pride and Prejudice.” While Lizzy is a pleasant looking woman, she is not what you would refer to as a Hollywood starlet, (enter Keira Knightly from the 2005 movie adaptation of the book.) She prefers walking to riding which means that she is constantly covered with mud, she tends to speak her mind, regardless of the appropriateness of the time or whom she is talking to. She often judges people by rumors she hears rather than getting to know them, and lives in an era where it is expected for women to be “accomplished” (i.e.: paint, draw, play the piano,) yet feels no need to bother herself with the structure of those talents regardless of how she is perceived. Lizzy is a women of character flaws and stalwart opinions yet she manages to capture your attention the moment she enters into a room.

Now, here is my point (sorry it took so long) I was partaking in a conversation today with a few men that I work with regarding to the fact that their wives like to read Romance novels. To my amassed amusement they actually believe that their wives read these particular kinds of books because they are “lacking” something at home. Let me set the record straight. While in a few cases, (and please let me stress the word few) Yes, some women enjoy a good trash novel because it gets them in the mood, however the vast majority of women like to read romance novels, (or any other type of novel for that reason.) because the women in the book generally posses at least one quality that they can see reflected in themselves whether good or bad, and for most of us it makes us feel better to know that there is someone else out there that has the same mind set at us. We can read a book and see all the problems and possibilities that come along with the quality and when they day is done; we can close the book and go back to our lives.

When I read a book, I get lost in it. I can hear the characters as if I am standing in the same room with them, and I feel the hustle and bustle of the action that is being portrayed. I can live in a time when I did not exists, visit places I will probably never see, get lost in a language that is no longer used, and feel the splendor of beautifully written words as if they were spoken specifically to me.

I have a very normal life. By some standards a boring life, but to me it is heaven. I don’t want to run away with some guy that will loose his charm after the first kiss, or end up in some twisted triangle of deceit and lies. I want to read  a book  that even in the faintest of ways I as a person can relate to and understand where a character’s reaction is coming from. Then I want to put my book down, tuck my son in bed and kiss my faithful husband goodnight. To me it is simply a mind journey, not a missed opportunity. So, if you see a women reading something you may view as “Trashy” just remember, at the end of the day it is still just a book.

I have never been know for being a graceful person…as a matter of fact…most would say that I am clumsy, and not it that cute “every once and a while she slips in a puddle of water” kind of way; but more like the “Hey Misty, watch out, that is a flat surface, it can be a tad bit tricky to walk on” sort of clumsy. The…”She’s so clumsy she’s practically disabled” sort of clumsy, and after years of denying that I actually am as klutzy as people make me out to be, after last night I am inclined to agree.

See, it’s not hard to injure yourself if you really thing about it… the world is full of obstacles; doors, stairs, small yappy dogs, but it takes a whole new breed of people to almost break their nose in their sleep.

Yep, you heard me correctly… I almost broke my nose while 75% unconscious. I have this really bad habit of tucking my arms under my body while I sleep, and for anyone who has ever done this, for say…3 hours, you know that your arms will inevitably fall asleep. So here I am, snoozing away, drool on my pillow, husband snoring, a little piece of heaven in my tiny little insomniatic existence, when I decided…”Uh, I really hate this position… I should flip over”

Easy right? Yeah… not so much, remember how I mentioned the arms falling asleep predicament, well, it’s not very easy to adjust your body with you have limbs that are not wanting to cooperate. You can almost equate it to having 10lb weights tied to your upper torso that you have absolutely no control over. They just lay there, like dead fish.

So here I am… in desperate need to adjust my body into a more comfortable position only my body had decided to go a different route…the “Fat chance in hell your gonna flip over route” So I decided…desperately…to use physics to solve my problems. (Please keep in mind that the equations and relative outcomes of physics are not fully thought of when you are half asleep…this is a very important detail) So, keeping kinetic energy in mind I begin to rock my body, left…right….left…right, until I have just enough force to jut my shoulder and swing my uncooperative appendage to the other side of my body.

Ever heard of the theory; What goes up must come down.? Well, I am here to tell you that I have tested this “theory” and I find it highly accurate, seeing as how once my arm was directly over my head, my elbow (which was also non-responsive) decided it wanted to bend, now bringing my INCREDIBLY heavy arm and hand down onto the bridge of my nose.

Now, it is necessary that you understand my pain, so please…if you will for just a moment imagine dropping a 10 pound weight onto your nose from approximately 1 1/2 feet above you. Got it? Did it make you cringe? I hope so, because to me it felt like a WWF wrestler decided to use my nose as his own personal practice mat.

Keeping all of this in mind, I do feel an obligation to inform you that no, I did not actually break my nose, just my ego, and that amongst all the pain and suffering that I may have inflicted upon myself I can be rest assured that during all of this I did not wake my loving husband…who still continued to snore, through all the wailing, and pillow biting, and flagrant disregard for moral character.

Happy sleeping people, and just remember… where there is a will there is always a way, you just may need to verify your health coverage first.

I will be the first to tell you that I have an unadulterated compulsion for road rage.  We are talking middle finger wagging, explicit language, horn honking anger management issues, but while someone cutting me off, or driving 5 mph under the posted speed limit ticks me off, there is nothing that makes my blood boil more than rubberneckers.

Are you kidding me? Is it absolutely necessary that you not only slow down, but stop on the highway? Yes, I know that you are like a small child, attracted to those beautiful blinking red and blue lights, and yes, I know that seeing a cop car stimulates some area of your brain that tells your foot to hit the brake, but really?

Are you looking for a loved one? Questioning if maybe your boss was the one pulled over for not turning on their blinker? Or…is it just in your nature to be an overly nosy pain in the ass?

If you want to go sightseeing buy a bus pass and let someone else do the driving, or…for the love of God, take a side road and quit clogging up the expressways. Its just common courtesy.

Happy driving my lovable minions!

Dear Fantastic Sam’s Magazine Subscription Purchaser,

I know that you have a difficult job.  Juggling “Cheerleader Monthly” and “Motor-Trend Magazine” subscriptions are time consuming and daunting, but I just wanted you to know that… “I have your back!”  It is not often that I stray into your establishment, but on those rare days that I do, I wanted you to know just how much I truly appreciate your effort.  While others around you are updating their stock with “People” and “Southern Living”, YOU stand by your personal creed only to provide the best.  You know how much your public appreciates last months “Avon” catalog, and you take pride in seeing the smiling faces of your patrons as they indulge in “Popular Haircuts of 1979″.  It is you whom I salute! You, who makes my monthly visit with my 5 and 1 year old bearable.  Here is to you…for making Sunday, just one more day in errand HELL.

Sincerely,

Misty

People call me stubborn, and while on most days I would counter their response with “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”  today my unfortunate inability to stop has made a full circle, and has come back to bite me in my own ass, rightfully so.

I have been sick. Coughing, Sniffling, Sneezing, Aching, Fever type sick, and no amount of Nyquill or OJ has been able to squash it.  I feel as though my body has been run through a cheese grater and I have turned on (unbeknownst to me) some mysterious faucet that’s attached to my nose, and… have apparently forgotten how to turn off.

All that being said…one must remember that I am a mommy. Mommies are not supposed to get sick, I am not supposed to get sick, but when I do…the fact remains…that I am still the mommy. It’s not like I can just cut out for three days and check back in when I’m finally feeling peachy.

What does this mean exactly? Well, in no uncertain terms, I have tortured my body.

I have been sick since Saturday and I have yet to miss a single day of work.  Good job right? No…Instead of bowing out…instead of taking control of my control issues (ha) I have stubbornly insisted that I continue  my normal daily activities, now triggering a catastrophic event with my body including, but  not limited to non-stop sneezing and watering eyes.

I look like I have been hit by a Mac truck.

So, my lesson has been learned… I have finally, today, hung up my bag and called in to work.

But.. as I sit here, proud of myself for conquering my little quirk of OCD I ask myself… Why the hell am I still up at 7am typing a blog instead of medicine-heading it out in bed?

Hum…  I guess maybe I didn’t learn my lesson after all.

AAAACHOOOOOOOO! (uh…. I hate my body.)

There are lots of things in life I’m certain we could all live without. For instance; Spandex! There is absolutely no need for Spandex, EVER…I don’t care how skinny you are. Or how about silly putty? Is there an actual use for Silly Putty? other than getting stuck inside my kids pocket? I think not. But to top off the list of things that we, or at least I, could definitely do without? Live Cultures!

You know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t pretend like you don’t. Under no circumstance, ever, in the history of mankind is it necessary to inform the public that their yummy little yogurt treats are ALIVE! I have already had to swallow that fact that it’s practically stale milk, do you need to rub it in?

Which advertising genius thought this was a good idea? Were they all sitting around a table when they decided:

“Hey, lets gross people out and tell them that there are little live oogies crawling around actively in the food they are digesting!”

NOT OK!

Dear Food Executives, do the world a favor and stop telling us what we are “actually” putting in our mouths! I do not want to hear how you make hotdogs. I REALLY don’t want to know about bologna, and for the love of God… don’t even start with cottage cheese.

Please…just give my digestive system a break and let it think I’m eating the Key Lime Pie like it depicts on the outside of the container!

Has anyone else ever woken up to realize that they lack attributes that others deem necessary.

Today was my sons first day of school. Oh happy day, 7 hours of non-stop interaction guaranteed to wipe him clean of any and all energy by the time I get home from work. Perfect right? Apparently not so much. Apparently I am supposed to be distraught by the thought of my child spending hours out of his day surrounded by his peers and an educated adult that is PAID to cherish and care for my child.

Apparently "First Day of School" is some sort of code for "You Should Be Crying You Heartless Hag", because as I stood there, ushering my child into his seat, 5 minutes late (Don’t Judge me!) I found myself to be the only parent that didn’t look as if they had just lost a much needed appendage. Which then, in turn made me begin to wonder… Am I supposed to be crying…and if yes, how come I wasn’t? Am I missing some sort of mommy gene that every other women on the planet has? Am I really that screwed up that I can’t shed a few tears for my child? And then, with out any sort of warning I started to panic. I should be crying… think of something sad! Now!! Injured puppies, A damaged Kate Spade handbag. ANYTHING! But no, nothing, not even a silent whimper..

So on to Plan B: Did I have any eye drops in my purse? Maybe I could fake the tears just long enough for the other parents to stop leering at me like I’m some sort of leper. Maybe if I bit my tongue really hard at least my eyes would water. Again nothing. So there I was, the only parent not acting as if my child was going off to war and suddenly it struck me, maybe I wasn’t the one overreacting with my blatant lack of waterworks…maybe everyone else was.

That I’m sure is a question only a shrink could answer, but for now, I’ll just sit here and take pleasure in the fact I don’t think the PTA will be calling me any time in the foreseeable future.

How’s that for optimism.