A Brag and Light It Up Blue

A quick brag before I go on…DSguy won the county spelling bee and will be advancing to the state spelling bee! I see a road trip in our future…

It’s almost April—and you know what that means—Autism Awareness Month! I’d like to draw your attention to it early because World Autism Awareness Day falls early in the month—April 2, to be exact. This year marks the fifth annual celebration.

Autism Advocacy group Autism Speaks sponsors a special event to mark World Autism Awareness Day. It’s called Light It Up Blue. Light It Up Blue is a global awareness initiative, meant to “shine a light on autism.” How can you help? Replace your outdoor lights with blue light bulbs for the day. When someone asks about your blue lights, tell them about autism or direct them to the Autism Speaks website.

Iconic landmarks around the world have lit it up blue, including the Empire State Building, the Sydney Opera House, Niagara Falls, and Christ the Redeemer in Brazil. I’m planning to light it up blue, too. In fact, I may do it for the entire month of April. I hope you’ll join me!

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Spelling Champ

Last week DSguy competed in the regional spelling bee. On the way to the event, we squeezed in a little last minute studying and said a prayer for DSguy to do his best.

He was up against about 16 other students in grades 4-6. The Man and I sat in the audience with bated breath, waiting to see if all that studying paid off. You know, it’s hard being in a spelling bee. I remember doing them when I was a kid. My Mom was never able to watch me do them—it was too nervewracking for her. Being a mom now myself, I can understand why. I think The Man and I were almost as nervous for DSguy as DSguy must have been!

As each word came, we clutched each other’s hands, our eyes boring holes into DSguy from the audience. Would he spell it correctly? Yes! We could breathe again. This went on for awhile, clutch-bore-breathe, clutch-bore-breathe, bearing a strange resemblance to Lamaze exercises. Finally, the playing field was narrowed down to three competitors.

DSguy was left on the stage with a boy and a girl, all hoping for the coveted first place. The boy went first. His word was “Albuquerque.” He spelled it, but somewhere in there he accidentally snuck in a “k.”

“I’m sorry, the correct spelling is a-l-b-u-q-u-e-r-q-u-e,” the proctor said.

DSguy’s hand went up.

“Yes?”

“Um, that should be capitalized,” DSguy corrected. Light laughter broke out in the auditorium. Oh, to have been able to see the proctor’s face at that moment.

Perhaps they should have asked DSguy to spell “precocious” for his next word. They didn’t, but maybe they will this Saturday when he competes again at the county level.

Congratulations on your first place win, DSguy! See? Studying really does pay off!

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I'm at Jewels!

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Erma on Cooking

I love Erma Bombeck. She was truly an every-woman humorist. I love reading her takes on the day-to-day things of life, as she always knew how to see the funny in them. On occasion, I will share Erma quotes with you on this blog. Like today.

Today’s Erma-ism:

“When it comes to cooking, five years ago I felt guilty ‘just adding water.’ Now I want to bang the tube against the countertop and have a five-course meal pop out. If it comes with plastic silverware and a plate that self-destructs, all the better.”

Ain’t that the truth? Instant food, although not great for one’s health, is a busy mom’s best friend. If I had to cook everything from scratch, I fear my family would die of starvation. It’s not that I can’t cook, it’s that anything that takes more than 15 minutes or involves more than one course is asking for trouble. It’s hard enough to get a boxed side dish and a canned vegetable heated up without Monkey Boy getting into the raw ground beef that’s sitting in the skillet waiting to be browned.

It’s those convenience foods, like the biscuits in a tube that save my sorry gourmet-challenged butt.

The Man can’t stand those tubes. That “pop” noise that happens when the can is being opened freaks him out. Even if steak and lobster were popping out of that can, he wouldn’t want to be around for the unveiling. He leaves the job to me, the mighty can-hunter. Me kill biscuits.

I think Erma was on to something with those self-destructing plates. No washing dishes. What is it about my guys that they don’t rinse off their plates when they’re done eating? Don’t they know that not rinsing makes it exponentially harder to clean the gunk off the dishes later? I suppose I should be thankful that the dishes make it to the sink at all. Monkey Boy is learning to throw away what’s left on his plate when he’s finished, and sometimes the plate lands in the trash, too. That’s OK. He’s making progress. At least it’s off the table!

Maybe it’s time to make DSguy wash the dishes. We tried that once. He was a dishwasher with three speeds—slow, slower, and stop. I might be better off waiting for self-destructing plates to be invented. Either way, I’ll have a long wait on my hands.

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Coffee Talk

The Man and I went out to lunch yesterday. Now The Man, being the smart fellow that he is, started proofreading the menu. First he noticed that cheese was spelled as “chesse.” He gently pointed it out to the waitress, who was very gracious and replied that there were probably a number of typos in the menu.

While we were enjoying our meal, The Man found another questionable menu entry. Flagging down the waitress, he asked, “What’s togo coffee?”

“To go. Coffee to go.”

Now to be fair, it was a typo. There was no space in between to and go, but the sheepish look on his face was priceless. It was just one of those “gee I feel dumb” moments. Bless his heart. He has had coffee issues before.

On our honeymoon, we stopped at a little café for a bite to eat. The Man ordered the au jus sandwich. He was happily munching away when he managed, “This au jus is strange.”

I watched for a moment then replied, “You’re dipping your sandwich in your coffee.”

The sandwich wasn’t the only dippy one that day.

(Disclaimer: This message has been posted with The Man’s full knowledge and approval.)

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Middle Age

Once upon a long time ago, DSguy asked me a rather unremarkable question.

“Mom, what year were you born in?”

I told him.

He replied, “Is that in the Old Testament?”

Maybe it was a run-of-the-mill question, but the answer sure packed a wallop!

Sometimes I wonder what exactly constitutes being middle aged. I mean, I consider myself in that category, but what is the standard, anyway?

• DSguy apparently once thought I was an ancient relic of Biblical proportions.
• The Man says that I’m pretty darn close to middle aged, citing currently recognized human life expectancies as proof. Simple division. How methodical.
• A gal pal who is a bit older than I am says I’m still a spring chicken.

Wikipedia says middle age can be anywhere from 35-65, depending on which source you ask. That’s quite a spread, and yes, I fall in that range.

Just for argument’s sake, let’s say Wikipedia and The Man are correct and I am officially middle aged. I’m OK with that. It means I’m growing in wisdom and restraint, as is evidenced by the fact that DSguy is still alive after that Old Testament comment.

Lord help me if he ever decides to ask about menopause.

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Spiffy!

How do you like the new digs? The toaster is looking pretty spiffy these days, eh?

A big thanks to Mari LaVell at Free2Be Blog Designs for the custom work she did on my blog. She’s great to work with, if you ever find yourself in need of a blog facelift. Go check out her website to see some more customized samples.

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Fat Chance

I was a scrawny kid. You know, one of those that could eat their weight in chocolate and cheeseburgers and not gain any poundage.

Not anymore. My super metabolism decided to hang up its cape, I guess. They tell me it’s all part of this middle-aged thing…eat just like you always did, and gain weight anyway. That’s where I find myself these days.

Even more disturbing is what has happened to my cholesterol! Would you believe my triglycerides have almost tripled in two years? I’m in a state of shock. It’s time for an overhaul.

Diet and exercise. That’s what the doctor ordered, as she should. Unfortunately, those two words hold about as much thrill to me as the words “root canal” or “pap smear.” In my sugar-craving mind, diet and exercise = self-imposed torture. I would love to completely ignore the good doc’s prescription, but will I?

Fat chance. I have two little boys and a hubby who are counting on me being around for awhile, so I need to take care of my health. I respect my doctor. She’s looking out for me.

I’m looking for some good recipes that are low fat, low cholesterol. Anybody have anything that tastes better than cardboard? I’m thinking I need to learn how to use whole foods and cut back on prepackaged (read: easy) foods. The dietary stuff is the hardest part for me.

As for exercise, I have dusted off my “Dancing with the Stars Cardio Dance” DVD. I have been spending my weekday mornings doing the cha-cha, samba, and jive. Not well mind you, but I am working up a sweat.

So in a nutshell, I’m in over my head. I need to completely unlearn everything I’ve been doing for the last 30 some years. Want to jump in and unlearn with me? How about joining me for a cha-cha workout? I assure you, you can’t butcher that dance any worse than I already have. Think I’ll be dancing in public anytime soon?

Fat chance.

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Clobbering the Obstacles

I have a confession to make. I’ve been struggling with major depression. One of the defining symptoms of this depression is not having the desire to do anything that I previously found fun or fulfilling. Things like my writing.

I could use your prayers and encouragement…and a good, swift kick in the pants. Thankfully, I found one via Patty Wysong’s Take Flight Challenge. The Take Flight Challenge is meant to give those of us with blog fog ideas to jump start our blog posts.

On January 30, 2012, Patty posted a quote by J. Gitomer that she saw on Facebook. It said, “Obstacles can’t stop you. Problems can’t stop you. Most of all, other people can’t stop you. Only you can stop you.” She went on to challenge those of us reading to grab hold of something that is holding us back and clobber it into submission!

So here I am. Confessing. There are things I enjoy that have been on the back burner because of my depression. Writing is a big one. So right here, right now, I choose to write. I choose to clobber the living daylights out of my depression-induced apathy. I choose to do what I love until I remember how much I love it.

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