January 17, 2014 by gn0mel0ver

Say What?!

I was at the supermarket. Where I seem to be. Every day. Because I inevitably forgot to pick up something for dinner. On this particular trip, I needed a cart. I guess I had forgotten several somethings.

It had been raining earlier, so I had slipped on my rain boots from Costco with my chunky white sweater and some skinny jeans. It was definitely not my most exciting outfit. But, again, it wasn’t the most exciting day.

As I was battling two shopping carts that were stuck together, a rugged man of medium build peered over the edge of the small dividing wall at me. He was one of those fellows that made it impossible to tell his age. Life had either been hard on him or good, depending on his circumstances. He was missing all of his back teeth. In the middle of November, he still had a healthy tan and the skin around his eyes crinkled as he grinned at me. His dirty-blonde hair, made more dirty-blonde with actual dirt, was sticking up wildly in all directions.

He smiled at me. His blue eyes twinkled. His face turned to layers of leather. He opened his mouth, and with the utmost sincerity, he said to me, “Nice boobs.”

I stopped battling the shopping carts to stare at him. I couldn’t believe he would be so bold.

Actually, I could.

But, I couldn’t believe he was talking to me. It is the sad truth that after nursing two children and growing older, there would be many women whose line that would still apply to.

Me, not being one of them.

My chance of this applying to me is further reduced by 4,896,401 just by residing in Southern California.

Let’s just say, my odds weren’t good.

So, I stood there with my mouth open in shock as all around me the real deal that this phrase would apply to grabbed their carts and went on their way. Wait! Did I just say, “Real Deal”? Cross that out. And insert, well…insertions .

“What?!” I finally managed to gasp.

He grinned wider. I feared for his face. He repeated himself, “Nice boobs!”

I looked down at my chest. Then I looked up at him. Then down at my chest. This was repeated an embarrassing amount of times. I’m quick.

“Excuse me?!” I tried to reply indignantly. But in my head, I was rejoicing in a smack-me-in-the-face-what-kind-of-liberal-woman-am-I-that-this-would-flatter-me kind of way.

“Are you gardenin’ or somethin’? Gettin’ reddy to do some plantin’? Where’d ya get dem boobs? They’re the best I’ve seen.”

I realized that this man must have a screw loose. What the heck did my boobs have to do with planting and gardening? And what did he mean, where did I get them? In an attempt to not be even more graphic or vulgar, let me just say, dem boobs I got have never been mistaken as ones that have been purchased.

And best he’s seen?!?! Where has this man been living? Were we at the same grocery store? I had seen two better examples walk by in the two minutes I had spent standing there talking to him.

I shook my head sadly at the deranged man, replied a quick, “No.” Then I grabbed my cart and made my way into the store.

As I was wandering the aisles, my mind was spinning. I kept replaying the conversation in my head. Squeak. Who the heck did he think he was talking to? Squeak. What kind of man goes around saying things like that to women? Squeak.

Ugh! I looked down at my boots. I was trying to think. They were interrupting my thoughts with their annoying squeaky rubber.

My boots!

My squeaky beautiful boots.

My boots that would be perfect for wearing…while gardenin’…and plantin’!

I felt a rush of… Oh, I don’t know what. Relief that my town was not being invaded by vulgar men. That the rugged man just had a keen fashion sense and a love for nature. Happy that I had gotten to wear my boots on a rainy day.

I definitely did not feel sad. Nope. Not at all.

I was definitely not sad to have not received an inappropriate compliment.

Not. At. All.

Squeak.

* This post was written in response to The Daily Post’s Weekly Writing Challenge. It is a 100% sad, but true account of my trip to the grocery store.

“It’s The Little Things” will run on Saturday and then resume its usual Thursday time slot next week. I needed to get this story in by Friday. Thanks for indulging me! ; )

* P.S. I shared this on The Pleated Poppy!

September 8, 2013 by gn0mel0ver

Six Months Of Blogging: Reflections

Can you believe it has been six months since I started this blog? Me neither. It seems like only yesterday…

I started this blog, because I wanted to write. And I thought, well, why don’t you practice doing that on a blog? And then I thought, what if I could make a successful blog? Wouldn’t that be something? Now, don’t get me wrong. My blog is nowhere near “successful.” But I guess it depends on your measurement of success. I measure it in quality of life. Writing on this blog everyday just makes me happier. I have met the loveliest people. Truly. I am so happy with that. Any time I get a personal email or a comment on a post, I feel so grateful. I cannot believe someone would take time out of their busy lives to write me or to comment. It really is awesome.

There are things I vowed to do when I started this blog:

1. Answer comments. Before I started this blog, I was a follower of other blogs. I would comment. If the blog’s author did not comment back (and the number of other comments on the post was not a lot), it would hurt my feelings.

For my own blog, I really want someone to know that I value their comments. I value them. Therefore, I will always respond to positive comments, especially with comments on a post under 50. I appreciate the time it takes someone to comment. They have to fill in more information than I do to comment back to them. I will never take that for granted.

2. Not write about random bad things going on in my life. You know, the petty fights with girlfriends, being mad at my husband, grounding kids, etc. Out of respect for the people involved. And really, who wants to read that?

3. Write a blog my kids could read. That my parents could read. Because at the end of the day, this blog is about my life. I want those people to be proud of it.

4. Not post angry.

5. Be kind.

Things I am probably doing wrong:

1. Um. A theme. Every article I have read about having a successful blog states you must focus on one subject. There is just no way I can or will ever do that. Every week, I put in one post about: Outfits, food, decorating, and littlest things. The other three days I choose whatever the heck I think sounds interesting or fun.

Randomness. I guess that is my theme.

2. Web design. This is something I keep putting off and probably will for awhile.

3. Tags. I know I am not doing these right. It is something I am working on.

Whilst I am not following the formula to have a successful blog, I am still having fun. And darnit, that is why I do this.

Goals for the next six months:

1. Continue to post daily. I like to babble on.

2. I would like to end the blog year with more viewership.

I have no idea how I am going to do that. And I will be honest, when I have a day with a lot of views, it kind of scares me. Just a little, because I know the more people who view my blog, well, there will be more people who don’t like it. And that scares me. And, yes, I will delete mean comments. Because like I said, my kids read this blog. I read this blog. My parents read this blog. I do not want the negativity in the space.

3. Continue to do giveaways. It is my favorite. It is fun to be able to show my appreciation to my readers. (There is a new one starting Tuesday.)

4. Set up an account on Etsy for my daughter and link from my blog. She is so amazing. And so talented. I think if she could sell some of her pieces of art (for her college fund), she would have more self confidence. She is awesome. Not that I am biased or anything. ; )

5. Do more Facebook posts. And when I say more, that should not be hard to do. I have been slacking. I still have not figured out this “Facebook thing.” I do not have a personal account. I am learning as I go.

Six months. Time really does fly when you are having fun.

Because, folks, I really am just flying by the seat of my pants here. A year ago, I would not let anyone take my picture. This putting myself out there, is just about the scariest thing I can imagine. But I am going to continue to do it.

Thank you so much Cassie, Lorraine, Brynne Poore, Sayaka, Gwen, Kerri, Stephen, Sarah, Auntie M, Cynthia, and Fellow Bully Fan for taking the time to comment or email me like you do! It makes my heart sing. I could not have gone on without your kindness. Thank you! Edited to add: and Debbie! How could I forget. Blame the wine! Thank you Debbie!

I also owe a tremendous amount of thanks to Roxy at Effortless Anthropologie. Without her, my blog would not get nearly the views it does. I am so very, very grateful! Thank you Roxy!

And thank you everyone who reads or stops by. And thank you for commenting. Truly. It never ever is taken for granted.

I am having a special giveaway tomorrow to commemorate six months of blogging by giving away TWO necklaces that I love! See you soon!

Also, just for fun:

My Top Ten Favorite Posts From The Last Six Months (in no particular order):

1. My Weight Loss Journey

2. My friends’ favorite recipe: Chicken Pot Pie

3. Happy Birthday “Honey”

4. What A Wonderful World

5. I am partial to all of my posts to my children, in “Dear Children.”

6. My very first post, which I cleverly titled, “Kitchen/Family Room”

7. If there ever was a post that has all of my crazy, wacky sense of humor in one (you either “get this” or you don’t), it would be: My Crazy Obsession.

8. Ten Cents

9. My favorite outfit post: Princess Maxi Dresses

10. My favorite decorating post: Our Library Ladder

Have a great day! My giveaway begins tomorrow! See you soon! : )

July 29, 2013 by gn0mel0ver

Comic Con 2013 Part III

This is Part III of my three part account of Comic Con. If you would like, you can view:

Part I

Part II

And what I wore

This is a recap of my favorite thing that happened at Comic Con:

My main goals at Comic Con are always to meet the following authors: George R. R. Martin, Patrick Rothfuss, and Brandon Sanderson.

Last year, I had a moment with Patrick Rothfuss (the author of my favorite book, “Name of the Wind”). I saw him walking down the street. Alone. I was with my children. It was either leave my children and chase him down. Or stay stationary and be a good mother.

This is what I did:

I stood up (we were sitting on a bench). I screamed, “YOU!”

He looked up startled. I would make a terrible hunter.

“YOU’RE AWESOME!” I screamed like a lunatic. My kids had no idea what the heck was happening. My daughter was mortified. Patrick Rothfuss quickened his pace. And he was gone.

I had scared away my prey. Darn!

But I know exactly what he looks like now. I will not be foiled again. Stares off into the distance creepily here.

Ahem.

This year, I got to accomplish another one of those goals. It was amazing.

On Thursday, my husband and I were walking by a booth, when he leaned over to whisper to me, “Hey. It’s George R. R. Martin.”

My head fell off.

No, it didn’t. But it felt like it might float away. I was giddy.

He is my favorite author. I think he is the most brilliant man alive. His books are a series of fantasy novels,” A Song Of Ice And Fire.” The first book is “Game Of Thrones.” It has also been adapted into an HBO series. My husband and I have loved his books for more than a decade. I was shaking with excitement. I ran to the back of the line, where I was met by security. I was told I needed to have a ticket for the signing.

My heart sank. He was so close.

I walked away. Sad. But I was still excited we got to see him.

Thirty minutes later, we were leaving. I asked my husband if we could walk by that aisle one more time. I just really wanted to see him again.

We got there.

My husband left me to look at something. The “bouncer” was gone. George R.R. Martin was still there. There was a small line. I quickly got in it.

I am a rebel.

Apparently not a good one. My kids informed me that I stood there rubbing my hands together and saying, “He, He, He, He.”

Okay, a crazy rebel.

And then he was in front of me. I started shaking.

I said, “I just love you.”

He politely said, “Really? Well, thank you.” He smiled. He was very kind.

I purchased a calendar that he had signed. My daughter took our picture. I might have touched him like a crazy person. I do not know. My daughter says I did. It was a quick blur. I thanked him.

And I left. My poor husband missed the whole thing. And he likes George R.R. Martin just as much as I do.

This was my highlight of Comic Con. Maybe my whole year.

My soul is full of happiness.

Have you met someone you idolize? How did it turn out? (In some future posts in the coming weeks or months, I will write about meeting Sean Astin and finally ~~stalking~~, ~~tracking~~, ~~hunting~~ ~~down~~, meeting Patrick Rothfuss.)

July 27, 2013 by gn0mel0ver

Comic Con 2013 Part I

I love going to Comic Con. Scoring tickets to the event is always miraculous. Something always goes wrong with the ordering system. We have been very fortunate.

And getting to Comic Con is kind of scary. It is a task, in itself. Traffic is a nightmare. You have to buy your parking in March.

As we were about to get to our parking lot, we heard a loud “bang.” Metal on metal. We knew we had been hit. It was obviously not bad, but it was a bummer. The other car followed us, while we searched for somewhere to pull over.

Once we had, we got out to survey the damage.

There wasn’t any.

This is crazy. But his driver’s mirror hit my daughter’s side of the car’s door handle. There was not even a scratch.

Both cars were unharmed.

The driver’s wife started crying. She said, “It’s a Comic Con miracle.”

We left. Everyone wished each other a good convention and we were off.

But I cannot stop giggling. I thought you might appreciate this:

“A Comic Con miracle.”

I love it.

We made our way into the convention. And I stopped in my tracks. The regressed memories overtaking me.

You see…

Every year I look forward to Comic Con. And every year, I am brought back down to Earth by the reality that is Comic Con.

Because, whilst Comic Con is amazing. Awesome. Very, very cool.

It is also draining.

Hot.

Smelly.

And your soul feels crushed as you are packed body to body with other human beings as we are all herded to the next freebee. Body to body. And about 1/4 of the people are not wearing deodorant.

It is dizzying.

I have to give myself timeouts. So, I do not have a giant meltdown in the middle of the crowd.

I make myself leave the main convention for one hour breaks. Here, I can do my favorite thing to do at Comic Con. People watch. Because people watching at Comic Con is not like people watching at other events. It is interesting. You see more than your fair share of body parts. Body parts that are typically covered. And now they are not. Or they are covered in shiny lycra.

But finding a seat to people watch is impossible. There are no seats. Everyone piles onto the floor. Strangers next to strangers. And you look longingly for a place among them. Finding a seat on the floor is like scoring the lottery. I kid you not. It is a big deal.

It is amazing how human beings can adapt. Can change to their surroundings. Hunting for a spot on the floor becomes one’s main focus. A live or die survival instinct. Suddenly, what would have disgusted you the day before, is the most relevant and important thing today. You must sit next to the man in the Superman tights before that lady wearing the Wonder Woman outfit beats you to it.

And then…Victory! …That is Comic Con.

Here are some more photos of the costumes I snapped while enjoying my hard-won spot on the carpet: