Blog Blah Blah

What is your blogging philosophy? I had a conversation with my brother today who told me that I needed more pictures on my blog. I am purposefully not putting a picture here. I love being passive aggressive, or just aggressive. I am never passive, even though it is my goal every year of my life to learn to be passive.

My blogging philosophy is this....Do whatever you want with your own darn blog. That is why you have it. Blogging allows you to actually control something in your life all by yourself. My favorite blogs are the ones like mine, that actually have some commentary. The more personal the information the better (few people dare to live their life as an open book and people who do dare have my utmost respect - as long as they can actually talk about something besides themselves)

I like to read people's opinions and love the internet for bringing them all to my very own house. I can get millions of opinions with a few clicks. How is that for someone who still has a market research bug somewhere deep down inside? I loved calling and bugging people for their personal information when I was telemarketer, but I am now the first one to hang up on them. I don't need them, I have blogging now. And, I now get my high from the comment click. Woo hoo.

And while I am sharing my opinion, I am not a huge fan of blogs that have only one purpose...to chronicle and scrapbook one's own family. C'mon give me some substance. Every Mormon family blog looks exactly the same. I don't care how cute your kid is! Although I am giving my kudos to Meagan for at least admitting that her blog is what I don't like. (I like it all the more now that you were willing to openly talk about it.) he he - Now I know that I just ticked some of my blogging friends off. Sorry. I do still read all of your blogs, or should I say, I do still look at each and every picture. But, if you would like some other comments from me besides "cute picture" then do something daring and give me some juicy stuff.

And, just for the record, here is the official definition of blog: a Web site that contains an online personal journal with reflections, comments, and often hyperlinks provided by the writer

I think you will be surprised at knowing that most blogs don't fit the definition, including mine. I don't really journal all of the details; I never link often enough, I talk too much, and evidently I don't have enough pictures either. Oh well, I gave up a long time ago trying to please my brothers.

I like this blogger.com's definition better:

A blog is a personal diary. A daily pulpit. A collaborative space. A political
soapbox. A breaking-news outlet. A collection of links. Your own private
thoughts. Memos to the world. Your blog is whatever you want it to be. There are
millions of them, in all shapes and sizes, and there are no real rules. In
simple terms, a blog is a web site, where you write stuff on an ongoing basis.
New stuff shows up at the top, so your visitors can read what's new. Then they
comment on it or link to it or email you. Or not.

So, happy blogging everyone, even you family people!

Conversation Pieces

LeGrand has repeatedly warned me that blogging about "the bedroom" is off limits and so I hope the following two funny conversations don't cross the limits. If you are the kind of person who is afraid that you may not want to read further, please stop here. I don't want to embarrass you or me. If you are even just 1% like me then I am sure I just peaked your curiosity and I know you will have to keep reading, even if you don't know if you want to. If that is the case, I don't mind if I embarrass you a little, just don't tell me if I've offended you. I offend so many people in my life, and I just don't need one more. Consider yourself warned.

LeGrand and I have been trying to get pregnant for 8 months now with no luck. We've never really had to work at it before and so we have gotten a little worried. As we were talking for the two minutes that we actually saw each other last night, LeGrand felt it necessary to share with me the infomercial that he had heard on the radio. I vaguely remember, as I was half asleep, but the commercial mentioned that there is a link to an enlarged prostate and fertilization. So, my memory was jogged about another short conversation that had occurred that I meant to blog about: (for your reading pleasure, here it is)

So, we were at LeGrand's parents for Christmas and an interesting conversation took place that I thought was worth sharing. LeGrand's little brother Logan started commenting that he needed to go and relieve his bladder in the bathroom. This small statement blew up into a huge thing. Jordan, the middle brother, starts telling Logan that he shouldn't hold it for so long. "It's not healthy." Logan then says, "Yeah, when I hold it too long it almost starts to hurt." So, this conversation is going on and on and it is almost making me uncomfortable re-sharing it here. (At the time it didn't seem to be such a big deal) During the whole conversation, where even Faye and I added a few suggestions, LeGrand, the oldest brother, was sitting across the room at his laptop, totally oblivious. All of the sudden, LeGrand looks up and loudly exclaims, "Oh yeah, well I have an enlarged prostate." What in the world? If you aren't already laughing, then you have to imagine the look on the face of my usually quiet and subdued husband. The look was as if to say, "So, top that, you wimpy bladder brothers!" LeGrand swears that he was trying to warn Logan that he may have the beginning of prostrate problems, but I think he was just bragging.

And another funny conversation that is totally not related yet is in a round about way. (has to do with male body parts - again stop reading now if you are easily offended) This is a conversation that happened between my brothers and sisters and I about a year and half ago. I have wanted to share it for a long time ago but have never felt appropriate. (I am going to now lose the two new readers that I gained this week, but hey, this blog is for me anyway and I like writing about funny things)

We were at my sister Sarah's house. She lives in Lincoln, CA, and her house became the gathering place when my Grandma Dorothy died. The funeral was in close by Sacramento. All seven of us siblings were together for the first time in 6 years. So, where did the conversation head? - The natural place of course, what name were we each teaching our own children for the male body part. I have all daughters and so of course I wasn't as involved here. My brothers, who all have sons were really getting animated. The following names were mentioned: Pe Pe, We We, Tinkles, Wa Wa, and on and on. Who knew there were so many choices? I had put my two cents in towards the beginning of the conversation, "We just teach the girls the correct scientific terminology like the parenting books tell us to....penis is the only word we use." You should have heard the roars of disapproval from the peanut gallery. This is what really got the conversation going.

Seriously, I didn't know when it would ever end. We were talking about his for about ten minutes, and the brothers started making up new names that would be good to use. I couldn't stand it another minute. How could I possibly stop the conversation? Like a pro, if you ask me, "At our house we just call it King Kong." (LeGrand is going to kill me because it really isn't true) Yes, I really hope that you are laughing. But, if you are offended or not, I have to say that it's o.k. because at the time, my plan worked like a charm. Everyone laughed so hard that we finally had a lull long enough in the conversation to change the subject.

Papa's Puns

A comment left on my post from yesterday made me think that my father-in-law is secretly reading my blog. (I would be so honored) The anonymous comment was in regard to me working as a cashier at Target and said:"Some people hope for change; some people talk about change, but I've been working hard to make change since 2007!!!!!!"

Sure, anyone could have left this comment, but really, who left in this world has a pun in his pocket so readily? Duane does like to torture us all continually with his play on words, but it never really gets old. He may be getting old, but unlike him his humor will live forever. I don't think that it would be possible to erase the practice of punnery from the Gold DNA. I am left to wonder where it all originated. I have been told that Grandpa Gold was a great humorist also.

So, I chose the picture of Duane above from behind. I am sure that he will be able to come up with something really good using the word behind. (He always does)

What is a pun exactly? It is just humor that is a play on words. Try to come up with some of your own, it is quite fun. I must warn you though, you may have to think really hard, I have been sitting here for the past 30 minutes and haven't been able to come up with one. Thank goodness for the google search. It brought up this page from UT which left me wondering if punnery is a Southern thing. No wonder why all those Southern guys are funny.

In our family, Duane's puns are numbered. Duane likes to pull out his little plays on words whenever his wit is up to the challenge, which unfortunately for us, is always. After ten years in the family, I have observed that Duane always awards himself with a little chuckle as to tell the intended listener that they had better acknowledge the humor also. I love this! And, I also love how the family tries to remember which number the pun is whenever Duane has succeeded at remembering. Really the jokes have never been assigned numbers for that would take all the pun out of it.

According to Erskine a pun is the lowest form of wit. Now, don't be offended Duane, he also says it is "the foundation of all wit". Freud also said that, puns are "the cheapest- can be made with the least trouble" (which Duane will find as a compliment I am sure because the Gold's pride themselves on being thrifty.)

Leave it to Oscar Levant to astutely point out: "A pun is the lowest form of humor- if you didn't think of it first." I am making it my goal this year to memorize a few puns so that I can perpetuate the humor into my children. I would also love it if I could master the lowest and cheapeast form of wit - wit in any form, is good to me. It may be an accomplishment of a lifetime if I can ever think of just one good pun before good old Papa.

Here are some puns just for the reader's delight: (these are all Duane typical)

1. I used to be twins. My mother has a picture of me when I was two.
2. I work as a baker because I knead dough.
3. A dog not only has a fur coat but also pants.
4. Today I've got a pressing engagement. I must go to the cleaners.
5. I recently spent money on detergent to unclog my kitchen sink. It was money down the drain.

Right on Target

So, I had a short stint as a cashier at Target this year. Wow, was that enjoyable! If you ever need to be motivated to go back to college, just go and take a $7/hr job that deals with the public and retail during the holidays.

I have no idea why, but I have always had this dream of being a cashier ever since I was a little girl. I always loved to play grocery while growing up. I think I dreamed of being a cashier because it combines things that I love: meeting different people, working at a fast pace, pounding on a keyboard, and organizing (you can't put the bacon in with the Tampax now, can you?) It only took two shifts for me to totally outlive my dream of being a cashier. Well, as LeGrand says, "It's a good thing you got that cashier stint out of your system because I am on the virge of making the big bucks." Time shall tell. When LG is a millionaire, I don't think he will want a Target cashier for his trophy wife.

Well, anyhow, it is late and I am tired and I want to get to the funny part of my story. There were many things that happened funny at Target. I may remember all of them someday. There were also many unfunny things that happened to me at Target, like the day I left a customer in my checkout line with a quart of spilled chocolate milk. What person did I find to help me on my third day...the only person not working...the HR lady....what did she do....She exclaimed, "You left a spill, didn't you watch that training video?" Oh, yeah, I vaguely remember that video that said to never leave a spill...but, if no one else is willing to help, how in the world will it ever get cleaned up unless you walk away and get some cleaning stuff? And, I had asked the customer to stay there and watch it. It was her own darn fault for handing the bottle to that darn toddler to chuck it down on the ground at least 5 times.

Well, you know I became the expert Target cashier because on my next to last shift when a woman urinated all over my checkout line, I didn't move a muscle. I stood there like a statue and flipped my blinking light until my team lead came and took care of the situation (Yes, he took care of it alright - he told me, he would watch the spill while I ran to clean it up...yes, the joy of being management- another reason to go to college or work at Target for 10 years straight after getting your GED - And, he was quite helpful - he said, "You may want to get some Lysol off the shelf for this one")

So, the short funny story. One evening, a woman came through. She was purchasing a bunch of "for kids only" stuff, including mylicon drops and detangling spray. Now, you know my goal in working at Target was to make sure everyone left with a smile. (not because Target told me to, just because I like to make people smile.) Now, if any guest left with a laugh, then I would be able to come home feeling really underpaid. (there is no feeling that can compare to being underpaid)

So, I strike up a conversation with this woman as I check her out. "Have you used this stuff before", I ask as I chuck her mylicon drops in the bag. "I have three daughters and have never tried it." She says, "Oh yeah, if you have three daughters you have to have it. You epecially need it with curly hair. You would not believe how much it helps."

I say, "Really, curly hair, I have never heard that before. I have only heard that there is a link between babies with hair and a pregnant mother's heartburn." At which points she starts cracking up. I say, "I can't believe that, children with curly hair have more gas than those with straight. That would explain why I have never needed those mylicon gas drops, all my girls have pretty straight hair. Who knew." I keep going with, "Well, they did get some gas when they were really little; I wonder if that is when their hair was curlier." She just laughs even harder, at which point she takes the bottle of Detangling Spray out of the bag. She says, "I thought you were asking me if I have used this stuff before, not the Mylicon drops."

I am sure that my face turned a brighter shade of red then my beautiful Target polo. At which point, I started cracking up. I had no reason to be embarassed, she was loving this funny conversation. As a few other people around us started laughing too, my shirt immediately flushed back to it's normal color, which is roughly the same shade of my Target khaki pants. Now, don't you think that they should have given me a raise to at least $7.50/an hr. I made at least 6 people laugh that night, not to mention the skill of making my skin the same colors as my uniform.

"You're supposed to"

Last week we took the kids to window toy shop at Target. While I was chatting with a lady from our church, LG stopped at the books with the girls. Bella kept requesting LG to read from different books. At one point LeGrand told Bella to hold on. He was attending to Abigail or Sophia. Bella chimed out in a way that was bound to be noticed, "Dad, it says on the TV you are supposed to read to your children." Classic.

My Christmas Ornaments

 

I have 3 sisters. For the past 7 years we have all been exchanging Christmas ornaments every year. It has been a great way to combine traditions, family and the wifely duty of decorating. It has also been a great way for my sisters to help me with my total hatred for Christmas tree decorating.

This entry will not be funny because I am tired and must retire shortly. I just wanted to post up these pictures and show the variety of ornaments that are on my tree. Forget these people that make them all match. That is serisouly not fun. I will add a little info about each ornament later....too tired. For now, just think of this as my way of making my Christmas decorating pain worth the trouble. You now have all kinds of ideas for different kinds of ornaments you can make.

Santa Claus is Coming To Town

YOU

BETTER

WATCH

OUT!

YOU

BETTER

NOT

CRY!

YOU BETTER NOT POUT.

I'M TELLING YOU WHY.

SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN. So, bring on a mother's work. Here I am trying not to cry yesterday while I was head to toe in elf costume. I really wanted Santa to keep me on his nice list, so I tried really hard to stay happy. I won't dare pout beyond what I have already done in my last entry. Didn't my little elf turn out cute?

The list of things I used from around the house to make this costume include but are not limited to: packing tape, electrical tape, thread, needle, ribbon, newspaper, wire, pom poms, leatherman, feathery boa stuff, a Santa belt, a dress from younger sister, handed down boots (passed down just in time from cousin Kearan), and last but certainly not least - an old hat that I made in High School to go with some pj's from a Christmas pajama party dance.

The inspiration for the costume of the year came from google and the cover of one of our favorite movies, Elf. We watch this movie all year; it is so funny and pretty wholesome. (it is hard to find both innocence and humor in the same world) The only two items I ended up buying for the costume were the elf ears, which are not included in this picture, and the white tights, which Abigail needed for church anyway. Pretty good huh?

Do you think I redeemed myself from last year? Here is Abigail's sparrow costume from her last year's performance.

I know, I know, what was I thinking? The poor girl had to sqwack around on stage like this. The best compliment of the night came from one of Abigail's best friend's father. Ryan's dad, Matt, has a pretty good sense of humor. He said, "Abigail you were the best tropical sparrow I have ever seen." SO FUNNY!

Skipping Christmas

 

Call me Scrooge, but I hate putting up the Christmas tree. Yes, of course, I am always happy when it is done and we are greeted by twinking lights in our living room for a whole month! (two, if I never get around to taking it down in January) But, c'mon what sadistic Martha Stewart came up with the tradition of putting away every knick knack in your house just to unload 6 huge boxes of junk. Is this really a necessary part of enjoying the holidays?

One of these days I will get the courage up to skip Christmas as I read about in John Grisham's book.

Here is a picture of LG enjoying his Thanksgiving holiday. I am not trying to make him feel bad; I really am glad that he was enjoying some down time.



But, shouldn't we all be able to enjoy our holidays, regardless of our gender?

We need an ACLU Christmas. We need to keep all of our National Holidays, yet, the week after we celebrate, we should have the ACLU version where the men do all the work that the women usually handle and the women act like the men (ie. sitting on the couch reading a book, playing football with our friends, watching sports on TV)

Think about it. Who does the work? We'll start with Easter for the pure delight of making a point. Who buys the candy, who shops for those cute Easter outfits? Who makes sure that they get up at the crack of dawn to stage the fact that the Easter Bunny has visited (Abigail does read my blog now and so I have to be careful what I say here - I know she doesn't believe in the Easter Bunny any more)

Next holiday - July 4th - Who buys and prepares the food and plans the outing? Really, all the men have to do is set off the fireworks..and is that really work?

Halloween - Who buys the candy, who tries to keep everyone from consuming the candy when you bought it the week earlier? Who makes the costumes? Who runs around like a mad woman on 10/31 making sure that all the preparations are accomplished for trick or treating, including the dinner, and making sure that you can somewhat tell what the kids are dressed up as, even under their coats?

Thanksgiving - who combs all the adds looking for the cheapest turkey? Who bakes the pies and the rolls and the, do you really want me to finish the food list? Who has to clean the house like a turkey with her head cut off to accomidate all the company? And, who is that actually sets that darn table? If all of that isn't enough. Now, in American culture, we are expected to get up at the crack of dawn the day after Thanksgiving to make sure we get the best deals for the next holiday coming up.

and Christmas ... I don't think I have to explain the thought process.

I think I would really be willing to give up the two Woman holidays of the year (Valentine's and Mother's Day) to eliminate all the other holiday work throughout the year.

I know, I know, I am a whiner. It's all about the memories we are making. I can't help it that I prefer to make memories without working myself like a horse.

Not that you care, but I really wanted to add a picture of me in here of decorating the tree last night. Guess why I didn't? I spared you the trauma of staring at my big fat bum. Every picture that was taken I was leaning over and picking something up, moving furniture, or plugging something in. Yep, you got it....working.

And were you wondering what LG was doing through all of the Christmas festivities - you got it - not working - unless you consider taking my picture work - which come to think of it - maybe he was working - staring at my bum really can't be considered enjoyable. HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

Oh, and I just added the bonus picture of Kitty Bear. I think she may feel like I do about this whole tree nonsense. Check her out; she's staring it down.

Read the Box

 

Here are some pictures of the Fruity Pebbles that the kids left behind on the carpet after Saturday morning cartoons. For those of you that are unschooled in the fine art of cereal, Fruity Pebbles are some of the smallest pieces of cereal that one can buy. For that reason, I guess I can't be too angry that the girls spilled a few. Besides, all it takes is a vacuum to clean this one up. That is nothing compared to a lot of the other things that I clean up around here (like 1 cup of hot cocoa that toppled all over my pile of clean dishes this morning - I have a hard time with my coordination early in the morning)

So, do you read the box of cereal while eating in the morning? I used to, but rarely take the time anymore. This probably has to do with the fact that I rarely eat cereal, much less the stuff that actually has interesting packaging. What a sad part of growing older: we have to pay more attention to the Nutrition Guide than the free crossword puzzle, not to mention the good toy you sometimes find inside the box. Have you noticed that they have a lot fewer toys in cereal boxes than they used to?

I made a new blogging friend, thanks to LG's cousin Missy. Her last post talked about only having shredded wheat cereal while she was growing up. It made me laugh. I could totally relate. I grew up, like my new friend, poor. We would occasionally get the good cereal, but mostly we just had the yucky stuff too. You know: Cheerios, shredded wheat, and the part that I thought was so funny: puffed wheat. Who eats that stuff? You can't even buy it in the box. You have to purchase puffed wheat in all its glory - packaged in one of those budget saving bags.

I commented on my friends blog that I really thought it was awesome when my mom occasionally upgraded to the Sugar Coated Puffed Wheat. I guess that my past cereal experience explains my need to keep good and tasty cereals in my cupboard. Seriously, I have at least 10 kinds of cereal at all times. I really need cereal therapy. I remember being horrified when some family told me that every Christmas the mother let her kids pick out their favorite sugar cereal. C'mon, do you really think a child can make their favorite cereal last for a whole year. At my house growing up my brothers would have eaten it all before I ever got back for my second bowl. I guess we have Christmas here every Saturday. Saturdays were made for sugar cereal, don't you think?

I love to feed my kids cereal. One of the only things I enjoy about LG being out of town is that I don't have to cook. If he is gone for a week at a time, you bet your bottom dollar that we will be eating cereal at least 5 times, 2 of those being as a replacement for dinner.

So what am I trying to do with this entry? I am not totally sure. I am mostly just rambling and I am sure that this won't make you laugh. But maybe if you slow down some Saturday and take some time to have some sugar cereal and read the box, that might make you laugh. Especially if you do it in your underwear like my brother David always did when we were growing up. That's no joke. Every Saturday, I would wake up to David sitting two feet from the TV, wearing underwear only, wrapped in a blanket, with a gallon of milk, a box of cereal and the biggest bowl and spoon he could find. I guess he read the box during the commercials.