Sassy Mama: How bad is it....

that my two older sons sing along to, "Ain't No Hollaback Girl" at the top of their lungs while I'm driving?

Sassy Fun: Yay! And now I will return to normal blogging....

My sister, her husband and their kids are safe and if that wasn't sweet enough, their home withstood everything and they even still have their electricity. Thank you to all who said prayers. We are all so happy and grateful.

Now on to what has been rattling around in my head....

Regarding names again, I've been getting chuckles out of the nicknames that stars get. For instance there's J.Lo for Jennifer Lopez (duh! I know....) and then I heard of LiLo for Lindsay Lohan. The latest I've heard is JenGar for Jennifer Garner. And that got me to thinking....if I was a star (I think of this often....one of many things that probably makes me delusional) what would my nickname be? If I was a tech geek I'd be inspired to make a "Star Nickname Generator." But I'm not. I'll leave that to the ones in the know.

My first thought was, "JenMar." Jenmar. Jennnnnmmmmaaarrrrrr. Lemarr. Mallowmar. Jenmar....sounds odd. Not that JenGar is better. But JenMar....I just don't know. So I moved on to my maiden name and came up with, "Jenspe." Other than being a little hard to manipulate linguistically, once said orally it sounds very close to "Penske" which leads to a mental flow of consciousness to yellow trucks. And I am decidely not yellow nor a truck, thank you very much. If I was a rapper I could use my middle name and be called, "JDawn." That's right...whose your mama.....JDAWN!

But I think Jenspemar would be it. JenSpeMar. Or not.

Sassy Mama: I've been far too stressed as a mother....

when I see someone's email address as "Misty Nites" and all I can think of is bedwetting.

Serious Post

My thoughts and prayers are with those that are preparing to face Hurricane Rita, both the local people and their extended families in other states.

My big sister and her husband and children live approximately 30 miles southeast of Houston and have had to evacuate. She is someplace somewhat safe. I humbly ask that you please remember her and her family in your prayers also.

I won't be blogging much at all until after Hurricane Rita passes.

Sass: 867-5309 or So Much for Anonymity

I've been thinking alot lately about my name. Since my name is Jennifer I share it with half of the planet, or so it seems. I know this wasn't my parents' intention for me. They didn't know that what they thought was a nice, somewhat unique name for their newborn daughter would become so popular. I was born in the era of "Jennifer and Michael." Although, now that I think about it, maybe it was "Jennifer and Jason." I went by "Jenny" until 8th grade when I adopted "Jennie" because I was a dork of 90210 proportions.

Anyway.....

I've also read some stories lately of people changing their first names. Jacob in the Bible became "Israel." Sarai became "Sarah" and Abram became "Abraham" when God promised to bless them with a child in the future. There are other, non-Biblical people who have changed their names after life-changing events. After living 27 (nearly 28) years of being just another "Jennifer" and after having faced many challenges and a couple of crises, I can understand why. You are just not the same person that started this journey and if you like the person you've become a lot better than who you were, changing your name becomes very appealing.

Just yesterday I was trying to tell my co-worker about how there were five girls with the name "Jennifer" in my sixth grade class. Seriously, we had to go by our last name initial. So we had: Jennifer A., Jennifer B., Jennifer C., Jennifer Sk., and Jennifer Sp. Yeah, that last one was me. Because once you are not only sharing a first name with a classmate but your surname starts with the same letter you have go to the next letter and soon you feel like a bent index card in the old-school card catalog at the library.

So I was telling this co-worker about all that when he burst out laughing and singing, "867-5309!!!" Hilarious. Especially because I've never heard that one before. Hum.

However the joke is on him because, eventhough I didn't have the heart to tell him, I was only in the lower grades of grammer school (think Preschool and Kindergarten) when that song, 867-5309 hit the airwaves whereas he was what? Oh yeah, older---much, much older.

But....I'm Jennifer and that's that. I couldn't go against the name my parents chose for me. It'd break their hearts. Although I might become known as "Jennifer-Rama-Lama-Ding-Dong." Just to be different.

Blog Link: Plum is back!

The Plum was the very firstest blog I ever did read (on more than one occasion) and she is back. So if you haven't hopped on over there, get to it. Her latest post will make all the Medical Admin's in the world say, "Amen" and "Hallujah" (of course that may be misspelled, I'm only halfway through my coffee).

Epiphanies: Things 1-10 that make me say, "Mmmmmm"

Technically this could be a "100 Things About Me List" but I don't feel like sharing all my sordid and sketchy life details. It's best that if this is you first encounter with me (my blog) that you do not become overwhelmed and possibly frightened by the wackiness and wildness (dare I even mention the sinfulness?) that is I. So although I like reading others' 100 lists, this one is going to be about the things I love in life from the mundane to the (somewhat) exotic. These things can range from books to music to food to the nonmaterial. So it isn't always "mmmm" in a tasting/eating sort of way, in fact, most of the time it is a "mmmm" of contentment. Here goes:

1. Hostess Cupcakes....because they are just that damned good.
2. Dutch Brothers' Mocha Coffee (oh Oregon, I miss you so)
3. Gerber Lavender Baby Lotion
4. Daisies
5. Body massages from my scalp and hair follicles to the tips of my teeny, tiny toes.
6. Ashland, Oregon ****the only place where my heart and soul felt at home****
7. My handmade quilts from my Great-Grandma.
8. Books by Connie May Fowler (Thanks for the introduction Dragonfly!)
9. Warm sunshine shining on me.....
10. Hot baths scented with vanilla.

Sassy Wifey: Crazy weather and the post in which Phil gets the nickname "Martian."

This weather is killin' me. I get all geared for warm weather and dressing for work in cooler clothes, just to arrive at work (which has somehow been transformed into a virtual wind tunnel) and be blasted by chilly air. Or I think that I'm on my game because just two days ago I went to work and it was very cold, so today I'll dress more warmly. Suddenly the wind tunnel at work shuts down and I arrive to a smelly, sweltering armpit of a warehouse. Nice. And I'm bundled up, which would be fine if I had my nose bundled too. I just can't win with this weather. Dressing for work is like going on daytrips now; dress in layers.

My $400 espresso machine has taken a crap. A big crap. A big coffee-smelling crap. This is aggravating for a couple reasons: my need for coffee-induced speed in the morning and also because it is only like the bazillionth thing to break in this household as of late. But the most absolutely aggravating part has to do with the reasoning behind the purchase of it:

One day back in April I asked Phil to go into Starbucks and get me a tall, iced mocha with whip. This wasn't an unusual request, something we did nearly everyday lest I spend the whole morning, afternoon and evening complaining about having to drink weenie, sucky, pissy wee-wee, home-brewed coffee. On this trip Phil was taking forever...and ever...and ever. I figured our caffeine-craving planet happened to align with everyone else's caffeine-craving planets and we all collectively arrived at the same exact Starbucks, thus the baristas were frazzled and understaffed for this event and poor Phil was standing in a line so long that it eventually became concentric circles. Boy...I felt bad for him.

Then something odd happened. He came out of Starbucks with my tall, iced mocha with whip and walked to the trunk of our car. Huh? He opened the trunk. Now, I'm not only confused but a little angry. I couldn't figure out if he was playing games with me, like "You want your coffee? Haha, come get your coffee!" or if he was just plain mental from standing in that imagined horrendous line. But then a chipper-looking barista bounced out the door with a big box in her hands and brought it to our trunk. And honestly, everything faded to silence in my head...there were no traffic sounds, no people talking outside, no birds chirping---the only sound reverberating through my head was one loud, thunderous thought, "OH HELL NO."

I think the desired reaction he wanted from me was uninhibited joy and gleefulness but all I could think is, "I sent him into Starbucks to buy ONE FREAKIN' CUP OF COFFEE and he buys a FREAKIN' COFFEE MACHINE?! IS THIS A MARS/VENUS THING?!"

As soon as he got into the car he was all about telling me how this was a cost efficiency thing because after all, we'd be saving at least $3 a day plus gas (which now, come September and $3.00/gallon gas prices, is definitely a selling point). Alright...so I say, "That's all well and good my Martian husband but how much was our initial investment?" And you know...it's always so bad when the Martian can't tell you the actual price of something and instead hands you the receipt. This is never, ever a good thing and it is because the Martian knows that when I hear whatever the amount is, my eyes will bulge out and shoot redhot flames at whatever (or as the case maybe WHOMEVER) I'm looking at and he'd rather I incinerate a receipt instead of his head. So yeah, it was $400, more accurately it was in the "late $300s." And before you get all, "Well Smudge he was trying to do something special for you. I wish my Martian would buy me something like that," please know that my Martian only did it because he was sick of going the coffee shop daily and spending all of those visits actually fetching the coffee for me himself. That's all. It was no "Hey baby it's your special day because I got you a special espresso brewing machine because you're my super hot lover" type of gift.

It was more like a "I am sick of doing this. If I have to see the Starbucks green sign and their sickly coffee-colored decor for another day I may fold myself into a kite and fly away. I don't like going to Starbucks daily. I don't like YOU going to Starbucks daily. And I really hate standing in line at Starbucks on a near daily basis. So I'm spending $400 so I can sit on my ass and you can make your own damned mocha." Sweet, huh?

But here is the deal: I don't know HOW TO MAKE A MOCHA AT HOME. I END UP ASKING MARTIAN TO MAKE THE HOMEMADE MOCHA BECAUSE HE DOES IT BETTER. I get how to brew espresso, it's the part where you make the espresso into a mocha that confuses me. Hmmm....guess you could say that plan backfired on him.

And now it has taken a crap. Just about the time that it would start "saving" us money (and please don't get me started on the cost of espresso grounds, extra milk and cocoa mix I needed to purchase) it died. All I wanted (and still want) is a good espresso-laden cup of mocha...with whip.

Sassy Mama: Middle of the Road

I used to really get a bug up my butt about those who had "middle of the road" tendencies. I was opinionated (okay, I *am* opinionated) and those who sat on the fence seemed to have none. That bugged me. Badly. I wanted to scream, "Pick a side already!"

However, life has a way of teaching you how many shades of grey there really are and I have softened a lot in what I believe is right and wrong...knowing that there are things that I just don't understand because I haven't been there.

Which is why tonight's Wife Swap was so interesting to me. (Reader beware: Boring Synopsis Begins Here) In a nutshell, one wife had three young sons and a very lax attitude towards manners, discipline and housework. Her own childhood consisted of strict regimens that eventually made her feel almost like a failure if she couldn't always be perfect. She decided that it would be better for her kids to enjoy childhood and to above all, have fun. But unfortunately her best intentions backfired and she ended up with unruly boys that were nearly out of control. Enter the etiquette-teaching mother from Mississippi. She, too, has three children. Her family eats off of china plates and silver ware every night and dress formally for dinner. They have strict rules and regimens. You can imagine what mayhem took place in each household when a ettiquette-loving lady takes on a bunch of little wild cowboys and a relaxed "Roseanne-esque" woman tries to get the uptight family to have some fun.
But in the end it was awesome. The fun-loving mother taught the regimented family how to lighten up a bit and the ultra-conserative mother gave the boys the boundaries and rules they were craving. And then each mother continued to implement those things that added to their family life that the other one had started. Happy ending. (End Boring Synopsis)

That got me to thinking about how we run this household. We take a moderate approach which means that somedays my dining room table will have stacks of stuff I'm sorting through, items that are in transit to another room (much like people waiting at a bus-stop), stacks of folded laundry and somedays, even some dirty dishes from the previous dinner (gross, I know, especially since I'm usually the one who gets to handle those dishes). Other days it might actually be scrubbed down and cleared off. As far as conduct, it is hard because our boys have SO much energy. So it usually goes as follows:
1-If you must burp outloud, say excuse me. They know that it isn't polite and should they ever have a girlfriend from a conservative family, they better learn to burp quietly.
2-Put your used dish in the sink and rinse it off. This is a recent accomplishment for us with the two older ones.
3-Bring your dirty laundry to the laundry room. Do this often, hopefully daily, but I'll settle for a few times a week.
4-Put your toys away in the evening. I can't handle toys on the living room carpet after 5:30 p.m. This doesn't always work as visitors to our home can tell you, but at some point, they pick them up or risk having their toys meet the garbage can.
5-Quote Eminem, Kid Rock or any other possibly "objectionable lyrics" and watch mom come unglued. This becomes a game for them, which is bad and sends me into fits. So...we are working on this.

The truth of the matter is that we are, like most other parents I believe, just trying to stay on top of the crap. So yeah...you're going find socks (both clean and dirty) stashed in odd places that we haven't yet gotten to. You will most definitely meet our most persistent and present pets, aka crumbs.

The vacuum cleaner? Well, it never gets put away so get used to seeing it as a constant decor item in the living room.

Jackets are on the backs of chairs and there are probably a few glasses on computer desks or windowsills that we have used within the last 24 hours and just like our dining room table "bus-stop" clutter, they are just waiting for either Phil or I to come around on our twice daily "dirty dish round-up."

The linoleum, most assuredly, will be sticky.....somewhere.

It basically boils down to us living haphazardly but functionally. We don't have our kids polishing silver but we also don't let them scoot by doing absolutely nothing. The best we can hope for is that we are training them on how to take care of themselves but not sliding too far towards laziness or ultra-strict regimens.

It's a constant adjusting of our "parental steering wheels" to stay on the road and somewhat in between the lines. And sometimes we like to pull right on over at a vista point and enjoy the view.

Sassy Fun: Smudgemama is the youngest...

Just wondering....is this something I should be happy about? Especially because I am the youngest of three.

You Are Likely an Only Child

At your darkest moments, you feel frustrated. At work and school, you do best when you're organizing. When you love someone, you tend to worry about them. In friendship, you are emotional and sympathetic. Your ideal careers are: radio announcer, finance, teaching, ministry, and management. You will leave your mark on the world with organizational leadership, maybe as the author of self-help books.

The Birth Order Predictor

Writing: Writer's Block

WTF? Seriously, I can't believe I'm having writer's block with blogging. I think (which I try not to do too much) that it is because I share my life on this blog and I have one rule: I won't blog about my marriage unless it is good. And so when things aren't so good (no worries....just another hurtle in the marriage marathon) and it is consuming my life (still no worries...it's all good.....I think), I don't want to blog about it...'cause really who wants to know? And if you do want to know...well that's a bit freaky right?

I read in my most recent US Weekly magazine (to which I'm unreasonably addicted) that Ashley Judd starts each morning writing down all the things that bug her so as to not take it out on others. This makes so much sense to me. When I've read about Morning Pages (ala' Julia Cameron "The Artist's Way") and other similar things I've always worried that venting in the a.m. would color my day all gray and puce and peagreen. And some yucky burnt orange thrown in there too if the vents were serious enough. I am Crayola-oriented.

I'm going to give this a try to see if it does help "cleanse" rather than "dye" and if it improves my ability to get along with idiots...er...other people.

Sassy Fun: Smudgemama doesn't get to travel too much.

Thanks Susie!!!

As you can see....I've led a very sheltered life....those states in red are the ones I've visited (or in Oregon's case, lived in!)



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