Spirituality. Or something.

3 05 2013

While jokingly discussing past lives in the car today:

Her: I was a piece of hair in my last life that got pulled out.

Me: Wait. That GOT pulled out? Or that GOD pulled out?

Her: GOT.

Me: Oh I thought you meant God. Like, maybe God is this guy with really amazing hair, but he has an anxiety disorder so he pulls out his hairs and every time he pulls one out, it falls to earth and becomes a human.

*pause*

Her: I think every time I pull out a hair, I’m actually killing a person.

Me: Wait. Are we the gods? Or are we god’s hairs?

Her: We’re the gods.

Me: Maybe it’s like the Neverending Story. We’re the hairs of God and we’re the gods of hairs.

Her: WHAT.

Me: Remind me to blog this conversation when we get to Starbucks.





In which Indiana Jones saves me from ritzy people.

4 08 2012

The day that I took Orangey the Orange Camera to the beach, I happened to be just around the corner from the Cave Store, so called because it has a cave. (La Jolla is not known for their creativity. They name all their streets La Jolla – I suspect to keep the ghetto people too confused to be there.)

I haven’t been to the Cave Store since I was in 5th or 6th grade and my mom took some of my friends and me there. And I have never been IN the cave because, dudes? Caves are scary. As a child I was convinced it was going to collapse on my head. As an adult I’m still pretty much convinced of that, but I’m better at distracting myself. Despite the fact that I’d been in the cave store, I’d all but forgotten about that cave until Bethany blogged about it.

True story – the first time I rode Indiana Jones and the Temple of DON’T LOOK MARA IN THE EYES OH MY GOD SOMEONE LOOKED MARA IN THE EYES WE’RE ALL FUCKED NOW, I was pretty much terrified of the queue. And it’s not even a real cave. It’s made with, like, engineering. And DISNEY engineering at that, so you KNOW it’s not going to collapse on you or that the booby traps are totally not actually going to hurt you. But I didn’t really believe that. Repeated exposure and the fact that sometimes the booby traps don’t even work anymore have gotten me to a point where I’m not scared at all in the queue for that ride anymore. Go me!

me, in a cave, not dying

So I figured I was brave enough to go in the Cave Store’s cave. And I was. With minimal anxiety. But I kept having this nagging feeling that I really wished Indiana Jones was there to save me. Just in case. Frankly, that could be a general rule in my life, actually. In the grocery store? “I wish Indiana Jones was here to save me. Just in case.” At park day? “I wish Indiana Jones was here to save me. Just in case.” In scary caves tucked away in impossibly ritzy beach neighborhoods? ESPECIALLY. It’s like Xanax, but way sexier.

sunny jim

All this to say that I took this picture from inside the cave, to compliment the picture I took a few years ago from outside the cave.

sunny jim from the outside

So, if you see Indiana Jones, can you tell him I need him? Kthx.





Demon Adventures. Also personal growth n stuff.

26 04 2012

I have so much to say. But only while I’m driving or in the shower or something. I need to make a habit of audio recording myself all the time and just posting that. Only it would be SO CONFUSING for you to try to follow my brain while I talk to myself. It’s harder than following my brain while I talk to you. Which is pretty hard to begin with.

Suffice it to say that this has been a time of incredible change and growth for me. I’ve learned things about myself, and let things go to regrow more organically. I’ve learned things about life, about friendships, about parenting and my children. I wish I could document all of it, but it happens so fast, and so naturally, that I can barely make verbal note of it before I’m onto the next step. I guess I’ll have to just let that be what it is, too.

This week has been a surreal week of new things for SOAM, too. It got picked up first by the Daily Mail in the UK, and then by Yahoo (wherein a woman WHO WAS *IN* OFFICE SPACE said my website was “meh”. Which. Actually. Might not be a compliment. But it doesn’t really matter because SHE WAS TOTALLY IN OFFICE SPACE and also TALKING ABOUT *MY* WEBSITE) and a few other sources. And the traffic crashed the site. Repeatedly. Like to the point where I had to find a new company to host it for me. And that, my friends? Was beyond stressful. Tech is not my language and to try to fix something so INCREDIBLY TECHY was downright traumatic. In case you’re here for advice, the coping technique I used follows:

1. Cuss a lot.
2. Deep breath.
3. Remind self to take it one step at a time, and do whatever the smrt people say.
4. Panic.
5. Repeat.

It might need work, but it got me through.

And you know what happened this week? My first baby turned ten. TEN. Oh, you know what? It’s kind of like this. Only with less pot and no professional killing. Take out those things and it’s EXACTLY like that.

she's weird, too, though

She’s amazing lately, too. This time of change isn’t just about me (unlike most other things in this world, which totally are just about me). She’s made some incredible growth that gets me all verklempt just thinking about it.

So here’s to spring and growth and life and The Happy. And to not taking a ride on this bus.

um. i don't think i fancy a ride on THAT bus.

Or, TO taking a ride on that bus, if that’s your thing. If the demons are hot I guess it might be mine.





Good Morning! Have a Deadly Spider!

12 10 2011

Stumbled out of bed, into the shower, out of the shower. Got dressed. Stumbled into the kitchen, pulled the bacon out. Found a brown widow sitting in her web on my kitchen counter. Set the bacon down. Commenced panic attack.

evidence of her stupid choice of real estate location

First order of business: Tweet that shit.
Second: Take photos.
This is how I roll.

And then I stood there for 38 minutes weighing my options. That’s normal. Right?

Option 1:
Move out, leaving all my possessions behind, and never come back. Not really feasible. I have lots of stuff. I like my stuff. I don’t want to leave it behind. Also moving is a lot of work and I’m rather lazy.

Option 2:
Call the landlord and a) beg him to kill it and b) prove to him that brown widows not only exist but that spiders do, in fact, come in through windows. It’s way too early to have to deal with his bullshit. Also when he says he’ll be over in “ten minutes”, it usually translates to “next week sometime”.

Option 3:
Smash it. Impossible. I can’t smash spiders. If I use something like a hammer I miss (and break the counter), if I use my hand, I require heavy sedation and therapy to recover from the emotional trauma of feeling their body “pop” in my hand.

Option 4:
Set it on fire. Not only do I not need to come within six feet of the spider, but I also don’t need that plan to backfire resulting in a deadly, flaming spider running around the house and coming after me.

Option 5:
Vacuum that bitch up. Only that’s another plan I don’t need to backfire on me.

Option 6:
Hot glue. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost all sanity at this point.

Option 7:
Move out and never come back. Oh. Already covered that.

This was pretty much me:

Source: i.imgur.com via Bonnie on Pinterest


And that’s roughly what those 38 minutes looked like, interspersed with an occasional whine or whimper, or the kids running around screaming, “WE’RE ALL GANNA DIIIIEEEE!”

And then I spied a box of unopened Kleenex. Puffs, actually. And in a fit of sanity and bravery (that is probably an oxymoron) I grabbed the box and slammed it down on top of the spider. LIKE A DAMN NINJA.

And then I stood there for a few more minutes wondering if it was safe to peek.

It was. She was quite dead.

TAKE THAT, DEADLY WIDOW! I AM THE QUEEN OF SPIDER KILLING! I RULEZ! YEAH! YEAH!

And then I asked Margie to throw the tissue box away for me.

But in yet another fit of sanity and bravery, I envisioned yellow yarn (which is, apparently, the antithesis of squashed venomous spiders) and chanted, “Yellow yarn is really quite lovely,” and peeled the lid off (because she’d had the decency to be squished right on the part you tear away, rendering the rest of the box TOTALLY FINE) and threw it away. Like a damn ninja.

And then, just for good measure, I sprayed down the counter with disinfectant.

And you know what, my internet friends? All this before coffee.





Facebook is Awesome. You Should See My Spoons.

23 08 2011

I’m not trying to peer pressure anyone into joining Facebook or anything. Not even under an assumed name just like in my dream that was totally psychic* that one time. But these were so awesome I wanted to save them forever and ever in my pensieve (which is, you know, this blog). I’ve done my best to make things anonymousish by color coding and using internet names and/or first names only instead of social security numbers, but if anyone here is uncomfortable with this, I’ll totally remove it, or re-edit the images to be more private. I’ll make you Kermit T. Frog (just like I made Jen Following T. Road) if you want. Well, not just if you WANT cause I’m busy and really should not have wasted time by doing this tonight, but I will totally make you Kermie if you need privacy.

Basically, Facebook is an awesome place where you can get great advice. And also discuss whether “Cavernous Vajayjay” makes a better name for a band or a soccer team.

*About what I’ve now forgotten. See what happens when I don’t blog properly?

you should see my spoons

cavernous vajayjays

 





These are the faces I make doing math.

17 08 2011

I should totally make this a series, but I’m just not often enough on the other side of a camera to capture (let alone know) what faces I make while Doing Things. But sitting around a table full of bloggers will solve that problem.

This is the face I make while trying to do simple addition in my head.

And this is the face I make when someone misunderstands the previous face for me trying to remember the numbers from Lost and I automatically rattle them off like nobody’s business to prove how geeky I am.

These photos are taken by Sonja and Bethany, respectively. My life is such that my blogging isn’t even my own right now. I mean. Except that it’s my face. There is that.





And Then Bethany Was Here

16 08 2011

This entry starring Bethany, Sonja, Katie, Summer, Madge, and Jen.  Oh and me.

This entry has been waiting for me to post it since before I even wrote it. I tried being all witty and funny with it, but I just can’t right now between the busy and the tired and the emo. Instead I’ll leave you with some pictures (taken by Bethany, Sonja and me) that relate somehow to the visit and I’ll ask YOU, my lovely readers, to make up a story based on the pictures. If I were a cool blogger I’d make this a contest and offer you a prize, but the only prize I can think of is the $5 coupon I got for Threadless.com for filling out a survey (which I assume I can forward on). That might be is totally really ghetto, but, hey, it cost me 10 minutes of my time. 10 whole minutes. So the commenter who makes me laugh hardest before I forget and then remember this contest and decide it’s over can totally win that if he/she wants.

Also? I hope this doesn’t break your dialup.

Katie and Summer

seamen!

sonja blinding jen

as we are wont to do

downtown CV and a goofball

group shot at breakfast

photobombed

disguised as a distinguished guest

from around the corner

summer on the stairs

doing the aloof ANTM thing

Sonja and Bonnie

Bonnie knitted A's orca

baby photobomb

♥





And now time for a little Random Pantslessness!

11 08 2011

That last entry was a mite emo, no? To make up for it, I present to you your daily Random Pantslessness!

potty in the car
Every kid’s gotta have a picture like this.

pantsless in front of a house
And this even makes sense on a level that is my family because on every cross-country trip we stopped at every place my grandparents ever lived and took pictures of it. And who needs pants (or shirts) on a summer’s day in the Midwest? Not me, that’s who. Um. That’s who not? Oh never mind – moving on!

pantsless again
But this one? Is awesome. Because, as far as I can tell my family has no connection with this business sign (and please don’t correct me if I’m wrong, I like it best this way) so to pose pantsless on it is so very random and bizarre and hilarious that I’m thinking future-me went back in time and staged it just to make now-me laugh.

awkward family photos, here I come
This is not me, but it is another Bonnie. And there is no Pantslessness, but it’s pretty clear that this fits the theme. Merry Christmas: underpants!

this may be the best photo ever
As far as I can tell I’m probably wearing pants in this one, but I’m sharing it here because it just just as awesome as Random Pantslessness. It’s my new favorite photo and I want this blown up and put on display at my funeral, ok?

I hope you’ve enjoyed this edition of Random Pantslessness, but not too much because I pretty much used up my supply of Pantsless photos. Next time maybe I’ll share old birthday party photos with you. They are nearly as awesome as these have been.





Funny Things

24 07 2011

For when The Happy just isn’t enough. Here are my favorites from my Things Which Amuse Me set on Flickr.

signs at the park
Words of wisdom from a child: Don’t get eaten. I also like the Butterfly-Dang!

dum dum
Time-travelling lollipops from the year 2053.

mmmm... smells like cement in here
Ahhh, I love the smell of cement downpour in the morning!

my kind of flower pot
Pleeeease?

i totally just bought mexico for $3
I bought Mexico and then I SWEAR TO YOU that the next day it had a 7.2 Earthquake. No wonder it was such a great price.

the youth of chula vista are at it again
WTG, youth of my town!

with emphasis on the pride of potty
With EMPHASIS on the potty pride.

And the #1 Thing Which Amuses Me……

*drumroll*

Analbertos #1
Because nothing says “delicious” like an anus!





Dancing with Matt

3 07 2011

About a year ago Summer and I went to a Cake Wrecks books signing and met Jen and John. Yesterday we went to the beach and danced with Matt. We’ve decided that our new goal is to meet every internet celebrity, one by one. Which, now that I type it out, sounds really unlikely. But fun!

Quick digression: As we were walking all the damn way across Coronado (because the Fourth of July weekend + a hot day + the beach = no parking anywhere anywhere) and trying to corral two kids and also me across busy streets we naturally got to talking about Paris. It is a little scary to try to cross Parisian streets, and Summer recently accomplished this feat with 20 8th graders and survived (and so did the 8th graders). This conversation naturally led me to comment (again) on one of the things I was most struck by while watching Sherlock – I mean besides the fact that Sherlock Holmes and I totally have the same pillow. There is a scene (more than one, actually) in which someone hops in a cab that’s parked on the right side of the road and the cab darts between traffic all crazy-like onto the left side where it belongs and drives off like nothing unusual happened at all. I remember Douglas Adams writing about this once, and how he was shocked to get a ticket in the US for parking on the wrong side of the road. So I was relaying this to Summer with exaggerated emoting for humorous effect when a lady next to us piped up in an English accent and asked, “And what’s wrong with that?” My feet? Are DELICIOUS. She went on to accuse us Americans of crazy shit like making right turns on red lights so I guess we’re even, but note to self: never mock other cultures in public again. I mean, except for this paragraph. And a quick note to my English readers, I do not actually judge your culture for your parking habits. In truth, I merely poke affectionate fun at you. Feel free to return the gesture if that floats your boat.

So! Matt. We trudged across the sand to a giant crowd of people who’d gathered in the designated spot and who were murmuring things like “Matt” and “dance” and who were also wearing random strange headgear (presumably to spot themselves in the video easier). Matt was not there. But! He had kindly shared some notes with us regarding this gathering:

When you get to the spot, look for the guy who looks like the guy in the dancing video. Just come on over, say hello, and ask if I am Matt. If I’m not Matt, I will let you know.

Wearing distinctive clothing will make it easier to spot yourself in the video, but please do not dress as a licensed character (Mario, Spider-Man, Sarah Palin) or I will have to blur you and that will make everyone think you showed up naked or something. Also, please do not show up naked.

I did not notice anyone there naked, so this was clearly a group who followed directions very well. After a short wait, a dark-haired guy in sunglasses ran up to the crowd to a large round of applause. Speaking of mob mentality (because Summer was, actually), all it takes is for a few people to assume that every dark-haired guy in sunglasses is Matt for the rest of us to assume the first people know what they are talking about. They didn’t. But, true to his word, Matt informed us that he was not Matt. Only a moment later, another dark-haired guy in sunglasses, struggling with a large cooler, walked up to the crowd to very little applause. I guess we were jaded and suspicious by that point. Poor Matt.

And so we gathered into a big mob. There was a girl there with the most awesome bright orange hair I’d ever seen, two guys who Matt dubbed “Shirtless Guys”, and a bunch of goofy kids who bossed Matt around a lot. Well, and a bunch of other people, too. Matt set up the shot, made us give thumbs-up to the disclaimer, squeezed in to join us and we danced.

First we did Matt’s dance, and then we did a bunch of others. Turns out I fail at dancing. I mean, this really shouldn’t be a surprise to me, but it turns out even simple dances like The Swim are beyond me when you are supposed to do it in some kind of rhythm. I predict being fully embarrassed when this video is finished. Or possibly that the entire San Diego sequence will be cut because of me and I will become Hated.

The kids in the front row all took turns making up dances for us to do. Matt was seriously so awesome with all the kids. At one point a tiny two year old ran up and grabbed onto his leg and just held there – that’s pretty much how all the kids felt, I think. Elliott showed Matt how do do a “dance contest” which ended, unexpectedly, with falling down rather than a prize. But then most things Elliott does end with falling down. He is a big fan of the physical comedy.

Happy Thing: My Son Teaching Matt From the Internets How to Dance Contest

It was such an awesome afternoon, as are most when you meet internet-famous people. But the sun was shiny and we were within view of the Hotel Del and we were dancing and we were with a group of people who were just awesome (as you’d have to be to show up to dance for the internet). And the traffic off the “island” (because Coronado likes to call themselves an island but it is clearly a peninsula) wasn’t nearly as scary as it looked. Win!

So. Who should we meet next?

UPDATE! We didn’t make it into the actual video because we were upstaged by a stupid sea lion (and maybe because I danced so terribly that we got upstaged by a stupid sea lion), but you can catch bits and pieces of us in the outtakes.








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