Top 10 Resolutions We Can All Keep

At this time of year we all set ourselves up for failure by making resolutions we know will be broken before the printer stops humming (if they even make it that far.)

This year I am making resolutions that ensure success.  Feel free to copy these for yourself.

Be it resolved that in 2013 I will:

1)  Think about the number of calories in that hunk of fudge (you may substitute any other fattening noun) as I stuff it in my mouth.
2)  Mentally  do12 jumping jacks as I pass by the gym.
3)  Place a bowl of plastic fruit on the dinning table to remind me I should eat healthy.
4)  Do more walking by making my shopping list in random order rather than organized by the lay out of Wal-Mart . (I heard really efficient shoppers can get in and out of Wal-Mart in less than 3 hours).
5) Increase my reading speed by grabbing a copy of National Enquirer in the check-out line and see how far I can read before the cashier is finished.
6) Carry 5 bags of groceries at a time from the car to the kitchen to increase arm strength.
7)  Spray Aqua Net on all mirrors to erase facial wrinkles.
8)  Tear out all the size tags in my clothes.  Ignorance is bliss.
9)  Eat whatever someone else is willing to cook for me.

and finally
10)  Laugh out loud every day, even if it is at the guy in the next lane.

With these resolutions I am sure 2013 will be a wonderful year.

Going to the Dogs, The Real Scoop

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for Christmas Past

It was time to take the seven-year-old and the tween ager to do their annual Christmas shopping or I guess now it would be called Christmas gifting.  The difference this year is that they have their own money as a result of some very hard working chickens and one lazy rooster.  They have mastered the income part but haven’t quite got a handle on overhead expenses which ain’t exactly chicken feed.  Well it is but the price of chicken feed makes for some very expensive eggs.

My job was to be chauffer and gifting consultant as needed.  When we arrived at…wait for it…Wal-Mart…they immediately headed for the toy aisle.  As they calculated their combined income to see how much they would have left for themselves once all others had been “gifted” I perused the array of toys.

Besides the usual array of baby dolls, Candy Land, checkers, and bikes, there seemed to be other toys that would have given me nightmares had Santa dropped them down my chimney.  There was a game where you arranged realistic spongy brains into some kind of skull.  There was a kit for making totally ghoulish edible intestines, livers, and other assorted body parts guaranteed to make you 
scream in sour delight.  G.I. Joe was tucked in the corner of the aisle completely surrounded and overwhelmed with alien beings spouting several heads, spikes, and assorted eyes.  Bey Blades, which I mistakenly called Gay Blades, are the new spinning tops.  These, however, were battling tops complete with pistol launchers and glorified expensive plastic dishpans that serve as combat arenas. 

From the next aisle over, I heard squeals of delight. “Here it is!”  “Just like on TV”.  The object of their excitement was the Doggie Doo toy.  Evidently you feed this plastic wiener dog colored food, and then pull its leash thus “walking” it until the inner mechanisms maneuver the food from one end of the dog to the other where it comes out as poop.  Color coded shovels were included to scoop the color coded poop.  Now these are the same two kids who will only walk their real life dog under threat of total electronic shut down.  And forget about scooping anything! 

 Now granted, my older children had a Baby Alive when they were young.  You could feed the baby special baby food that came with it and over time,  gravity and two size C batteries not included would create a poopy diaper for the little mommy to clean up.  I should have known this was going to be a forerunner of the Doggie Doo toy when, as they got older, they diluted the baby food and created life like throw-up and diarrhea.

The Doggie Doo toy reminded them to rush to the Pet Aisle in search of a gift for Tia Mia, also known as Miss Buffington, Kiwi, and other assorted names depending on who has to walk her. They spent a good hour there searching for just the right toy for her amusement and the right Christmas outfit for her to wear when somebody else is walking her.

“What about the people on your list?  I mean the people besides yourselves, like parents.” 

“Well, you’ve got everything at Wal-Mart already. “

 Ok, that’s semi-true.  “But what about sharing?”

“I know.  You can play Doggie Doo with us.  You can even have the red scoop and all the red poop.”

“That is very thoughtful.  I’ll meet you at the check-out counter. I have to stop by the CD area for another present.” 

 I’m sure the children will enjoy “Barking Jingle Bells” It’s such a canine hit

                                  Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

The TALK, Part One, the Female

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved to purchase a Man Cave.

There comes a time in every family when the adult sits down with the child to have “The Talk.”  The parent will stall as long as possible, seeking advice from books, fellow parents, and Dr. Phil, but eventually the parent and child must have “The Talk”.  In our home it began with Dad and the age appropriate child.  It went something like this.

Dad:  Son, you may have noticed that Mom is different from us.  She is a female.  Females are different from males.  We are not the same.   We have different priorities, needs.

For example, I need the pile of papers on my desk to remain just that, a pile of papers on my desk.  For a long time when you would drop your winter coat by the door in December,   it would magically get hung back up by Mom, forcing you to ask her where your coat is. Twice a year, spring and early fall, you have seen Mom go into a cleaning frenzy, screaming and threatening to hold all clothing, toys, games, electronics, and piles of paper  hostage for the rest of your life if left scattered about .  Now that you are of that age, my advice to you is to just lay low.  It will blow over in a couple of weeks.

Females think differently from men.  Females are long range planners and they can see far, far, far into the future.  Remember when you came home with a C in Beginning Play Dough?  I said “Humph” and continued watching the football game.  Your Mom, on the other hand said “C, a C?  You made a C? Well, no more Sesame Street for you.  This is just awful.  What’s next?  C’s in Legos? Do you think second grade is going to be easy?  Do you think Harvard takes C students? I can see it all now. You will end up in community college and then what?  Transfer to an online university?   You will be taking remedial courses because you failed to challenge yourself in Beginning Play Dough and you’ll meet another remedial Play Dough person and you will get married, have children right away and never finish your degree.  You will become a stocker at Wal-Mart and they will schedule you to work every Black Friday and your wife and children will weep and wring their hands for fear you will be mobbed guarding the four available My Little Kitchens from rabid early shoppers!    A C, a C!  My brilliant child made a C in Beginning Play Dough.” 

For a female, food equals calories.  When the female goes on a diet, everybody goes on a diet. Start stock piling chips, dip, hot dogs and chocolate now before spring and the ads for bathing suits appear.  And never ever answer the question “Does this make me look fat?”  There is no correct answer.  Pretend to be deaf, change the subject, ask if you can do the dishes; anything to throw her off. 

I am printing out this talk for you.  Before you decide to bring one home to keep, read this again.  Mom is a female, whom I love, but she is different from us.  Remember that.

The Shopper Who Came in to the Cold!

By Jody Worsham

I have renamed Black Friday.  I am now calling it Blue Thursday.  Why, you may ask, as I am sure you are, so I shall tell you.  I’ll tell you even if you did not ask.

This was the year I introduced the Tween-Ager to the Thanksgiving shopping frenzy known as Black Friday only this year it started on Thursday.  We had finished our Thanksgiving dinner and it was truly a thanksgiving because I did not cook.   We prepared for battle:  store floor plans for location of all sale items, cell phones charged and ready, snack crackers, gum and water bottle in large purse, store flyers with high priority items circled, and final trip to the bathroom.  I explained that when it comes to Black Friday shopping, it’s every man, woman, and child for himself.  She must plant her feet, stand firm and under no circumstances relinquish her hold on any wanted item.   We were ready.

We said good-by to our loved ones and left for Wal-Mart, our first stop. We were able to secure a good parking place close to the door as we were two and a half hours early for the first event.  This also enabled us to canvas the store and locate the TV and trampoline lines and to sneak a peek under the black plastic wrapped crates for the “good stuff”.  At six-thirty the tween-ager took up her position in the TV line located next to the refrigerated beer and wine.  She was number eight in line for the sale that would start at 10 p.m.  I took up my position in the trampoline line which began between the frozen meet aisle and the frozen corny dog bins.   After the first hour, I realized we had made a serious tactical error in our battle preparations.  No jackets.  My “event” would begin at 8 p.m.  I promised to relieve the tween-ager as soon as I got the trampoline but she was not to leave her position.

By 7:45 p.m. I was freezing from having stood next to the frozen chickens for so long.  The tween-ager called to say she was also freezing, could I get her some hot chocolate.  At 7:48 my heretofore dormant teacher “fight’s about to start” antenna started to vibrate.  The noise rose and the first fight began on aisle three.  I left my position to make sure the tween-ager was not in harm’s way.  I explained it was just a fight over 700 thread count sheets.  “Sheets!  They’re fighting over sheets?  I want to go see.”  “No, maintain your position” and I sneezed and returned to the freezer line.

At eight o’clock I got the trampoline certificate, and then went to relieve the tween-ager.  Over the course of the next two hours we became friendly with the other people in line; some were friendlier than others due to the dwindling supply of Bud-Lite that had previously been in the refrigerator section when the line first formed.  We got reports from other shoppers of people shoving, pushing, elbowing their way to snatch an X-box and that was just the senior citizens.  I did notice that there weren’t any of the motorized shopping carts for the handicapped.  I guess Wal-Mart feared hit and runs.

Shivering and sneezing we left Wal-Mart at eleven o’clock with our TV, trampoline, and a buggy full of things we didn’t know we had to have.  

“This is great,” said the Tween-ager, “what are we going to do before the next store opens at mid-night?” 

“Get warm!”