Nostalgia and A Touch of Sappiness

Didn’t grandmas used to be…uh…more grandma like? Mine wore dull colored, aproned dresses. If her hem lifted too high, you’d catch a glimpse of rolled nylons, just below her knees.

As long as I knew her, she kept her gray hair tight in a bun and her brows wiry. They poked out over clear plastic rimmed glasses like untidy caterpillars.

(I’m fairly certain many of today’s grandmas pluck and wax.)

Because my grandma lived near us, our family visited frequently, my brother and I restless, while the grownups sat on the couch, talking and sipping gingerale. Occasionally, we had to answer a question about school.

(Adults got to talk and kids listened? Grandparents today often have to wait for the grandkids to go to college for a chance to speak in full sentences to their adult children.)

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Wenis Challenge for Weirdos

sibling photo

Sometimes, you just need to find the weirdness in life and make it your own. Well, I ran across such weirdness in a recent blog. And I’m up for the challenge.

If you haven’t already visited The Shameful Sheep you might want to check it out. Blair, the blog’s writer, uses the tagline “shit storms, shame, and stories that will make you cringe.” She had me at “cringe.”

Her last cringey post began with a fun fact:  If you lick someone’s elbow while they aren’t paying attention, they won’t feel it.

Well, we could just take Blair’s word for it, but where’s the fun in that? Seems to me, this is something that needs to be tested, am I right? Who’s with me? No? Even if you’re not up for trying it, you could be convinced of the credibility by watching the following video.

Is it just me, or is this hilarious? And cringe-worthy. But, mostly hilarious? According to the readers’ comments on Blair’s post entitled there are some strange people out there, it might just be me. At least her followers were discreet enough not to publicly admit to being one of the “strange people.” (Hmm. A lesson here? Ignoring and moving on.)

Did you know the slang term for the elbow is “wenis?” Although the word entered my vocabulary years ago, it still makes me giggle. (I know this says way too much about me, but why stop now? One man’s ick factor is another man’s giggle, I suppose.)

Here’s where I go from giggling observer, to “in the right circumstances, this sneaky wenis licking thing could be fun!” (So glad I can’t see your faces right now.)

There is a group of people in my life, that when we get together, we stop being CFO’s, philanthropists and grandparents. Magic happens. Granted, sometimes it’s at Happy Hour, (using “hour” loosely) but, the magic turns us into seven year-olds.  Or, if we’re feeling especially mature, 18 year-olds, tops.

I was born into my group, the “baby” of the family, so I have the right to be even less mature than the rest of them. And, that obligates me to bring up this weird idea. Since we’re getting together for the entire Super Bowl weekend, well…game on! (Yep. I said it.)

This group is perfect for trying out the Wenis Licking Game for three reasons:  1) siblings thrive on  competition (leg wrestling anyone?) 2) we know where these weenises have been and 3) we have a history of doing stupid things together so going for the most unnoticed licks in a weekend is not a big stretch

Bragging rights will go a long way, of course. But, maybe we’ll up the ante with some additional prizes. How about a classy Wenis-Licking trophy that could be displayed NOWHERE EVER! Or antibiotics.

I’m predicting the Wenis Licking Game will be better than the Super Bowl. Or at least more memorable. And, that the next time we get together as seven year-olds, at least one sibling will try to outdo this weirdness.





Oh, the messes they make

Oh, the messes they make

By Jennie Todd, with a nod to Dr. Suess


Thing One and Thing Two

Come to my house to play

When my daughter and son-in-law

Are out for the day

Oh, the messes they make

From ceiling to floors

Smudges, slime, handprints

On the knobs! On the doors!

New Pinterest Crafts

Sticky hands, sparkly faces

Glitter and glue

Ending up in weird places

But that’s how they roll,

Thing Two and Thing One

Besides making messes

The Things make life fun

The Truth Won’t Set You Free

7030122899_0df3d8145d_nPhoto by Stella Stenroos, Flickr
Cool and vampish, right? Long toenails, not so much. Apparently.

Truth is scary. No, it is. I was in the bedroom, under Sweet Baby James’ poster, sitting crosslegged with my BFF. (Back then, we called them “best friends.”  I’m being “current” here, amiright?) Anyway, something weighed on her mind.

BFF’s big reveal turned out to be that “everyone” was talking about my long nails. I’m thinking in a good way, right? Because my nails were long. The longest.  And surely the envy in my highschool universe. Take that, nailbiters. I win! But, no. The buzz from “everyone” was sadly about my TOE nails! She used words like “disgusting” and spoke for

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A Snowy Day and a Loaf of Bread

The office is closed, the kids are geared up for a day outdoors, and the snowblowers are humming.  But, sometimes, the best thing about a Snow Day is what’s happening in the kitchen. What’s your go-to comfort food (or drink)? Please share your Snow Day indulgences in the comments. I’d love to know how you spend them, and, more importantly, what you’re eating.

Growing up, I remember coming in from playing in the snow and eating my mom’s homemade Potato Soup. (I’m assuming that potatoes, onions, and milk were supplies she kept on hand.) On Snow Days, my daughter’s family toasts marshmallows in their fireplace for S’mores. (Toasted marshmallows and chocolate bars smashed between two graham crackers).

I like to embrace the delusion that Snow Days are similar to that incredible dream where you’re at a smorgasbord with every imaginable food, tasting everything in sight because you know it’s a dream and you can. In other words, I feel free to stray from my usual low-carb fare simply because IT’S A SNOW DAY! Continue reading

One Not-Quite-A-Hit Wonder

You may be wondering why Jesus is frolicking with children who are wearing vintage swimwear…and where Jesus is the other nine months

In the Stone Ages, when I proposed this book idea to a Christian publisher, I had a series in mind. I’ll write these little gems for each of the four seasons. They will be full of faith building stories, along with activities for toddlers and preschoolers to do with a parent. The message was that whatever you do, Jesus is with you, thus the title. (And, yes, I realize it is grammatically incorrect. That’s called “poetic license,” right?)

So, I signed the contract for the first one,  Jesus and Me in The Summer and began the thinking stage for Jesus and Me in the Fall (pumpkins!), Jesus and Me in the Winter (Don’t even!) and Jesus and me in the Spring (Think marigolds in styrofoam cups!).

But, in the end, “moderate sales” weren’t enough to pursue three more books. Sadly, Jesus and Me in The Summer was my one not-quite-a-hit wonder. Continue reading

Nasty Blogger. Umm…

I’m skipping through the blogosphere, passing sunsets, kittens, and homeschoolers’ tales when I slam into a blogger who has a thing or two to tell ignorant new bloggers. I’m all ears, because, yes, I am an ignorant new blogger. I see myself all over his rants about what I’m doing wrong.

In fact, Nasty Blogger seems to be referring to such people making these errors as  “blogwhores.” (Hmmm.  Who knew there were angry people in the world? And, even in my friendly WordPress blogosphere?) Admittedly, it brought my lah-di-dah prance to a halt.

But, I am not offended. (Who would be offended by someone calling them a whore, right?) I know this is just one blogger’s opinion. One blogger who probably needs a hug. Or Jesus. Thanks fellow blogger. So helpful.

After absorbing this new information, I proceed to do what any professional writer does. I fact check. Using Urban Dictionary. Continue reading

I’m Funnier In My Head

The kind of humor I like is the kind that makes me laugh for five seconds and think for ten minutes.

– William Davis

First, I don’t know who William Davis is. That may give you a hint at my intellect. Second, I do not care. No, not even enough to google his name.

The kind of humor I like is the kind that makes me laugh. The end.

– Jennie Todd, blogger wannabe

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