Umbrellas Are For Cowards

Did you all pass out in surprise when Erica posted yesterday? I'll bet you thought we Five Moms were lost in a pile of laundry somewhere, didn't you? Wasn't her idea adorable?

I would love to blog about something equally brilliant. Unfortunately you're just stuck with my ramblings, because I haven't been working on anything other than my tan, and that isn't going so well.

Today I fixed my hair all cute and then proceeded to watch all my stylin' wash away in the rain. And I do mean RAIN, we are talking Noah's Ark rain, people. My. Word.

Here's the problem: I don't like to wear a hat in the rain because it ruins my hairstyle. I don't like to wear a hood in the rain because it ruins my hairstyle. I don't like to wear my HAIR in the rain because it ruins my hairstyle. "Umbrellas are for cowards!" I cry as I run outside and totally throw caution (and my hair) to the winds.....and the rain.

I absolutely pretty much 100% categorically refuse to carry an umbrella.

Umbrellas are a nuisance. Who wants to carry an umbrella, look at all the fun you'd be missing? When you refuse to carry an umbrella:

• You can have the crazy thrill of running through a parking lot as fast as you can, hoping that it's not raining as much as it looks.
• You can experience that wonderful moment when a big drip cascades down your neck, down your back and between your shoulder blades
• Your hair can be a quick change artist - from full to flat in 5.7 seconds.
• You can experience what it would be like to take a shower with everything on.
• You can experience the fun as your mascara burns your eyes and runs down your face.
• You can look like a raccoon with your rings of mascara all around the eyes.
• You can have an excuse to change your clothes several times a day, as no one would expect you to remain in wet clothes.
• You can listen to the squeak, squeak, squeak of your shoes as you walk through the store and everyone turns to stare at you.
• You can have the thrill of discovery as you realize that you have a hole in the bottom of your shoe.
• You can cry in the rain and no one will ever know, unless you do the big ugly cry, in which case everyone will know.
  
• You can come in all wet from outside and look at someone blankly when they brightly ask "Oh, is it raining outside?"
  

On the other hand, there could be lots of fun carrying an umbrella too:

• You could smack people with it if they are walking too slow.
• You could use it to pick up gum off the ground if you're feeling hungry.
• You could wave it around and yell "I am Mary Poppins. Follow me if you want to learn how to fly!!!!" and start running away fast.
  
• You could use it as a cane when your legs start to ache from all that running.
• You could carry it upside down and use it to carry your groceries.
  
• You could hide behind it and play peek-a-boo with total strangers.
  
• You could buy one in every color to match your wardrobe.

The possibilities are endless, but I may rethink my umbrella policy, although I have yet to see 007 with an umbrella. So, tell me, do YOU use an umbrella when it's raining or do you like living dangerously?

It's Not Wallpaper, It's Hairpaper

Here are ten things you don't want your husband to hear you say when you are removing wallpaper and he is in the other room within earshot:

1. Uh oh!

2. ooooooops!

3. Wow, that scratch looks pretty deep.

4. Hmmm, I wonder if I can hide that behind a picture frame?

5. Wow, who knew you could put a hole in the sheetrock like that?

6. Good grief, another one?

7. I can't believe that sheetrock is so fragile. I mean, after all, it has ROCK in its name.

8. Ouch!

9. Why did I ever decide to remove this in the first place??????

10. I think I changed my mind.

I think I will be removing wallpaper for a very long time, sigh. Maybe we should just close the door and put "caution" tape across it. Distressed is "in" right now, but not sure that the walls would qualify.

Tonight I was watching a little t.v. and my husband pulled a piece of wallpaper out of my hair. Maybe I'll start a new trend. Care to join me? What will you be wearing in your hair?

The Battle Of The Dog Hair

As the "parent" of a toy poodle, I must admit that there were times that I felt superior to a cat owner. My friends with cats had cat hair all over the clothes, and I could not relate. I wondered how they could leave the house with all that cat hair on them.

Until my day of reckoning came. I failed to reckon with our beagle who is about the size of a small elephant. That dog flings his hair everywhere without a care.

He loves to scratch his back all over my blue and white checked slipcovers. As he walks by my coffee table he leaves a little of his DNA on that too. I have found beagle hair on my kitchen counters, in my kitchen cupboards, on top of my dishes, and recently I noted on facebook that I found a dog hair in the fridge.

In the fridge, people! Now, either my dog is having a party every time we leave the house or his hair can fly. Or he can fly.

Do you know that dog hair floats? It floats!!!! (Please don't ask me how I know that.)

I no longer feel superior to cat owners. Instead, I just hope that they will avert their eyes in pity whenever I walk by them. However, I know that they are turning around and staring at all that dog hair on my back.

Let's just say that you ought to invest in a company that sells lint remover, because I think that their stock is about to go up.

Rainy Days And Tuesdays Just Doesn't Cut It

I think that Tuesday and Thursday get a raw deal.

I mean, think about it. Everybody talks about Monday, even if they dread it. They always know when Monday is because for many people it's the start of the work week. Nobody forgets about Monday. Monday even sounds better in a song. "Rainy days and Tuesdays...." just doesn't sound the same, does it? It just doesn't cut it.

Wednesday is the middle of the week, so it you work Monday-Friday you pat yourself on the back Wednesday morning and tell yourself that you have only two more days to go. You know you can hang in there. It's only two more days until you're freeeeeee!

Friday. Well, it's Friday!!!!!! Everybody loves Friday. How can you not? For most people it is the start of their weekend. People count the days until Friday. In fact, for some people their Friday comes on Monday!

Then there is Tuesday and Thursday. Nobody gets excited about Tuesday or Thursday and it kind of makes you feel bad for them, doesn't it?

They are kind of the orphan days of the week. It's just very sad.

When you think about it Thursday is closer to the beginning of the weekend than Tuesday is, so really Tuesday has to put on a happy face and pretend it doesn't matter. Because nobody likes a sore Tuesday.

I just want to stand up for all the Tuesdays and Thursdays out there and say you aren't alone! You matter.

Tuesdays and Thursdays have feelings too, people......

Just Call Me Cheyenne, As In Wyoming.....

Sometimes I visit someone's blog and type my comments in a hurry, and sometimes I accidentally type my name "Bab" instead of "Nan" because I hit the wrong keys. I have done this several times.

I am seriously wondering how many people think my name is Bab?

I never really liked my name. I wanted something exciting, mysterious, fun. I mean, who can get excited about a name that is spelled exactly the same, whether it's forward or backwards. This is called a Palindrome, by the way. Like Bob, or Hannah, or Eve.

How can you make a nickname or shorten Nan? Na?

When I was in 7th grade I wanted to be named Cheyenne, or Tiffany. Not Tiff-ney, but Tiff-A-ney. Don't forget the A, people.

I used to write my "dream" name all over my school folder. I would match up my dream name with my dream boy. You know, the cute boy that you liked back then? My dream boy had glasses and braces and I wanted glasses or braces soooooo bad just because he had them.

Of course he was my dream boy for all of maybe a week or two. Girls are fickle when they're in 7th grade.....

The "dream" boy changed (and eventually I married my dream man!) but my dream name never did. I still think that there is a Cheyenne buried deep down inside of me. Or maybe a Tiffany. With an A for Attitude.

It's a Wrap Party

How come a man can figure out how to put together a baby's crib but can't figure out how to open a box of saran wrap properly?

My box of plastic wrap is mangled. It looks like its been through a war. Either that or men get together and have a wrap party where they all get together and mangle it at once.

People, those things aren't that hard to open. The hard part comes after you open it.

Seriously, who hasn't wrangled with a roll of plastic wrap?

I can't tell you the number of times I've wrestled with one and the box has won. Reminds me of that famous song "I fought the box and the....box won. I fought the box and the...box won." Something like that anyway.

Usually what happens is I get maimed. That's right. I leave skin, blood and a little DNA.

There is probably a secret to that stuff, but I don't wanna know it. I like having a knock-down drag-out fight every time I am attempting to cover my leftovers.

Sometimes it's the only exercise I get that day. Well, that and trying to burp the tupperware.

Which reminds me, there are only two things you burp....babies and Tupperware, right?

Just don't get the two confused.

It's My Wallpaper And I Can Take It Down If I Want To

Oh wow, I totally forgot about my post today. Sorry! I do have a post all prepared and ready to go, but I totally forgot to "publish" so it is still sitting in draft. Guess I'll use it next week.

As I mentioned on my "Messy Monday" post on my personal blog, I am trying to tear down the wallpaper in the bathroom.

Pray for me.

I think the people put it on with concrete because it won't budge.

At times like this you start thinking that maybe having a room with bits of wallpaper torn off wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps we could call it "art." Or "shredded art."

After all, that whole "shred" thing worked for Jillian Michaels. I could be the Jillian Michaels of wallpaper art.

If I can't get that wallpaper off I am going to hire a demolition crew and take that wall down, people. That wallpaper is not going to beat me. No way.

Kind of makes you feel bad, though. Any wallpaper that fights that hard to live deserves to. But not on my wall.

Maybe I'll make a dress out of it and sell it on ebay. Any takers?

RAIN, RAIN, GO AWAY....

When the kids were little we used to go camping a lot during the summer. My parents and brothers and sisters (and their families) would go as well, so it was a lot of fun. And a lot of work.

Any mother knows what a chore it is to pack clothes for your child for a camping trip. You pack about 20 pairs of pants and about 50 shirts, plus about 100 pairs of socks. And that is just for the first hour after you've arrived.

My kids used to go through clothes while camping like it was nobody's business. If you're really lucky, at some point, you get the proverbial rain. If you haven't been camping in the rain you don't know what you're missing, people. It just oozes with fun.

So you're up camping and it begins to rain. Every child's delight and every mother's nightmare. Because camping is in the dirt, people. That's the oozing part.

Do you know what happens to dirt when water is poured on it? Lots of water? Lots and lots of water? Well, let me educate you. It becomes mud.

Mud that gets all over your child's clothes and into every pore and piece of skin that they have. Did I mention that you are up camping?

That means no baths and no showers, unless you are at a campsite that has those and certainly we never went to any place that had 'em.

My children were thrilled. All that dirt and mud to play with and not a bath in sight! I was horrified as it was pretty much my major goal in life to keep my children clean. Or at least, semi-clean. I mean, you never know where that mud has been!!!!

Sugar Is Sweet And Very Painful

Have you ever had your kids or hubby or someone startle you?

Last night I was "watching" t.v. and my hubby leaned over to kiss me goodnight and I jumped. I may even have let out a small screech.

My hands may or may not have connected with his face. I don't know. My eyes were closed.

Hubby then said something incredibly brilliant and enlightening. He said "Did you fall asleep?"

Another time, I had a small five pound ball of poodle fluff jump on my stomach. Now I know why cartoon characters say "ooof!" if they're playing football or punched in the stomach. And you always thought it was because the artist made them say it, didn't you?

Five pounds of ninja-dog may not seem like a lot to you. If it doesn't, please ask someone in your family to drop a five pound bag of sugar on your stomach the next time you're sleeping. You're welcome!

If I am concentrating on something, I can startle easily. I can really block things out sometimes, so if my hubby or someone comes up to me, I can jump about ten feet high. I can also come out swingin.'

Nice to know those years of karate weren't wasted, ya know?

Snack Attack

Do you snack at night? I don't mean getting up in the middle of the night, but do you like a bedtime snack?

We eat dinner around 5:30 p.m. and usually I don't have a snack before bed, but lately popcorn is calling my name.

If you listen carefully you'll hear it. N-aaaaa-nnnnn.......NAAAAANNNNN!!!!

NNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNN!!!!!

Popcorn is very insistent.

At some point you have to ask yourself: Why do they call it POPcorn? Why don't they call it MOMcorn? Hmmmm? Moving on.

There is something incredibly wonderful (and incredibly full of calories) about having a bedtime snack. It harks back to the age of being a child and having to go to bed and just knowing that your parents were up throwing a party.

They were, I just know it. They were also eating all sorts of wonderful things I'll bet. And you couldn't have any because you were supposed to be in bed sleeping. Who could sleep with all that wonderful food out there?

When I eat breakfast, lunch or dinner I don't feel "sneaky." I don't feel like I'm getting away with something. However, when I have a small bowl of popcorn I feel like I am living it up, people.

I know many weight-loss tips say don't eat past 7:00 p.m. Well, having a small bedtime snack isn't really eating. It's sort of snacking, and snacking isn't eating because you're not really committed.

Committed eating is sitting down at the table with a napkin, a plate, glass, silverware, and maybe even some delightful dinner conversation.

Snacking is just you and the popcorn. So technically it's not a meal, and if it's not a meal then you're not eating. Right?

Right?????

Sorry, did you say something? I couldn't hear you because my mouth was full.

I Can See Clearly Now

I have trouble committing to a windshield wiper speed in my car. Does anybody else?

When it's raining I will turn on the wipers. It's like Goldilocks. First, the wipers are waaaaay to fast. Then they are waaaaay to slow. Then they are supposed to be just right. Right?

However, I can never seem to get them "just right." I don't like a ton of rain on my windshield but I can't stand it when the wipers are going into convulsions on my windshield either. So I turn them way down or off.

Then I have trouble distinguishing a car from a passing rhino.

So I turn them back on again, only to get a headache as I watch those suckers fly back and forth on the windshield, trying to do their job.

They chase each other back and forth across the windshield until my eyes cross just trying to watch them. Then I get the headache, as I said. Then I practically wreck my car because I am supposed to be watching the road.

By the way, have you ever had a bird do its "business" on your windshield and tried to get it off using the wipers and some spray?

Don't.

That's all I'm saying.

Unless you like it all over the windshield. If you do, by all means continue. Frankly, I prefer one small spot rather than one gigantic smear.

Of course, I can't help myself and turn on those wipers and make a huge mess on the windshield, making it harder to see and then starting the vicious cycle of turning the wipers on and off again. I just can't commit.

Is this an aPEELing post?

When kind of potato peeler are you? I am a wild one. When I have potatoes to peel, look out people.

Peelings are flying everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Although I don't usually watch cooking shows, I have seen a few in my time.

Let me tell you, those people peel potatoes as if they are performing surgery and every peeling counts.

"Now I am about to insert a cut into the potatormorpheous umbilicperditus. It's very tricky so please everyone, let's have silence. We have got to pull this poor potato through. Steady, steady now....keep those hands steady or you'll mash him. Watch out! What're you trying to do? Fry him?"

They peel potatoes as if they were meeting someone very important and wanted to be polite.

"Pardon me, Mr. Potato. Do you have any Grey-Poupon? No? Oh, so sorry to have bothered you. Why, thank you sir, nice chatting with you, too. Many kind regards to your wife."

That's. Not. Me.

No. I peel potatoes as if my life depended on it. I peel potatoes as if I were a mad scientist who is determined to take over the world.

"Today, the kitchen. Tomorrow, the world. Mwahahahahahahaha!"

When I peel, it's every potato for itself. Hands, feet, and potato parts are flying.

I am flinging potato pieces all over the kitchen and parts unknown. Sometimes I am amazed where those things wind up.

Oh sure, you can tell me to peel over the garbage or over the sink, but that is for amateurs. I, my friends, am an artist!

I'm Moving To Outer Space.....

As I get older, it has come to my attention that something isn't the same as it used to be. Or at least in the same place. My face seems to be.....um......slipping.

You can call it wrinkles. I prefer to call it slipping. Somebody has to take the blame. Not me.

I mean, after all, if my face doesn't want to....um......stay on my face whose fault is that? So how come wrinkles don't fall so far that your face actually falls off your head, huh? I'll bet your hair holds it on. But, if that's the case, then how come bald men still have their face on?

Really, it's the gravity, people. It couldn't possibly be from the fact that I am getting older, right? It's not the wrinkles that are to blame, they're just sitting there minding their own business. It's the gravity.

So I'm moving to outer space. But before I go, I'm going to try something else first.

Personally, I think that I look younger upside down.

So, from now on, I am going to be walking around like this.......


......so if you're looking for me, I'll be rockin' it upside down......

Bumps, And Aches, And Bruises, Oh My!

I get annoyed when I hurt myself. I really do. If I bump into something hard enough that it hurts, it annoys me. It not only annoys me, it has the potential to greatly irritate me....not to mention it might even hurt my feelings.

I think it's because I feel it's unnecessary. After all, it's not like I'm walking down the hall and all of a sudden the wall jumps out and deliberately gets in my way. It's not as if I am standing in the kitchen and the cupboard or drawer suddenly attacks me.

It just feels that way sometimes.

I have lived in this house a long time. I know where the walls are. I know where the corners and edges are. Still, I manage to hurt myself.

I can walk and turn the corner........and the corner has moved. All of a sudden, the wall is three feet longer than it used to be, which means the corner is now in my way. That is the only explanation.

The cupboards and drawers conspire against me. The walls move, the floors become uneven all of a sudden, the stairs are like a roller coaster ride.

What other explanation is there? It's either them, or me.

And if it's me, then it's my fault, and thus I can prevent it. Only, I don't.

I cut corners as I'm going from room to room. I don't walk, I rush.

I pile a laundry basket about five feet high and then try to carry the thing down the stairs, carefully feeling for each step in front of me as I can't see where I'm going.....I am just an accident looking for a place to happen.

I take it as a personal insult if the phone rings more than once. I like to see how quickly I can answer the phone, even if it means I have to bodily launch myself into the air, leaping over dogs and people alike to get to it. Because I have to answer it first, of course.

I leave cupboard doors open, bend down to pick up something that fell out of the cupboard, and then bump my head on the cupboard door. I burn my fingers in the oven, slam my fingers in the drawers, and all in all just manage to injure myself.

Annoying, but true. And now, if you will excuse me, I have to go bump into something on my way to somewhere. Thank you.

Do You Know Where Your Purse Has Been Lately?

I have a "thing" about putting my purse on a public bathroom floor. Yes, I did just decide to do a post on the floors of a public restroom. After all, it's not like you've never been in one, right?

They can be as clean and immaculate looking as I've ever seen and I still wouldn't want to eat off that floor.

So recently, my purse accidentally fell off the hook and landed on the floor of the public restroom. (Hmmmmm, I wonder how many times I can say "public restroom" in one post?)

O.k., follow me here. Your purse sits on the floor of a public restroom (ha!) and then you bring it home and place it on your kitchen table......that you eat on. Or on your kitchen counter.....that you prepare food on.

Can you say "ewwwww!"

I just have a "thing" about that. Also, usually the first thing that someone does when they come into your home to visit is to deposit their purse. Whenever people come into my home, at some point, their purse usually winds up on my kitchen counter.

Now, think about it. Where do people set their purses? On the floor next to them when they're out somewhere, or on the floor of the car? The floor of the restroom? In the car trunk? On the grass next to them in the park? Sometimes they hang it over the back of a chair but not always.

I would not walk on my kitchen counters, and yet in a sense we're "walking" on them when you put our purse on them (if our purse has been on the floor).

O.k., I will stop my public service announcement and leave you all to ponder where your purse has been lately. You're welcome.

It's My Onion And I'll Cry If I Want To

I wish I could slice an onion without crying. I really do. But slicing an onion is always an emotionally wrenching experience for me.

I have tried all sorts of suggestions from people. I even tried opening windows, wearing sunglasses and on one attempt, goggles.

The only thing I got from that was some very strange expressions from family members. Not that I could see them clearly through the blur of tears. Hey, it's my onion and I'll cry if I want to.

If I wanted to cry, I would just cry or watch a sad movie. I wouldn't chop up an onion.

I just don't get it. I just don't get how some people can chop onions and their eyes don't water and their nose doesn't run.

Did I mention my nose runs? This is not attractive. Let's just say that I never chopped an onion during the entire time my husband and I were dating. Well, not in front of him anyway.

I couldn't. Where would I do it? The kitchen is no good, not a tissue in sight. Chopping an onion in the bathroom is not very sanitary, but where else would I find a sink, toilet paper or tissue, and privacy all at the same time?

Grocery Shopping Is Not For The Faint At Heart

It's 5:00 pm. Do you know where your dinner is??????

Word to the wise: don't ever go to the grocery store at 5:00 p.m. in the evening. Don't!

The store is full of people. Hungry people. Hungry people in a hurry. Hungry people in a hurry that have absolutely no idea what to make for dinner.

Hungry, desperate people.

Don't go unless you are willing to park in the parking lot, 45 miles away from the store. Because there will not be a close parking spot to be found. Oh, and it will probably be raining too.

Don't go unless you are willing to negotiate the aisles with your shopping cart. Do you have a driver's license? Not good enough.

What you need is a license to drive an obstacle course. You know, one of those closed courses they show on t.v. and it says "Driven by a professional driver. Do not try this at home."

Don't try this at the grocery store either.

You need to be able to operate your shopping cart at amazing speeds, and able to speed around any person who gets in your way, with a smile and a "sorry" on your lips.

You need to be able to stop your cart any time you see an amazing deal, a great idea for dinner, or an overwhelmed mom who is desperately seeking dinner and something to quiet her screaming, hungry children.

You need to be able run into the store at 5:00 p.m. and get out by 5:01, with an amazing dinner and maybe even dessert.

Or, better yet, you need to have the number to your local pizza place on speed dial, as grocery shopping is not for the faint at heart!

It's A Sickness.....Really......

I have a thing about groceries. I do a lot of my shopping at a store where you pack your own groceries. I don't mind bagging my own, and I think it's because deep down, I am a frustrated bagger. It's like a game. Or a challenge. Or a sickness.

Ever since I was a little girl I would go to the store with my mom and watch them put her groceries in a bag. It just looked like so much fun. Now, I get to go shopping and have my own fun!

How fast can I load a bag? Can I beat the other person loading their bags across from me? Who will win get their bags packed first? The fun part is winning a race that they don't even know they're in!

How many items can I cram into one bag? Yeah, you heard me. I try to cram as many things into the bag as I can. I consider it a special challenge and a personal affront to my dignity if I only get a few things in.

I also prefer to use only one bag per cramming. Anybody can use two bags at a time instead of one. The art is to use one bag at a time and cram away. Can I put 50 pounds of canned goods into a single plastic bag and NOT have it rip or break?

How far will I get before the bag breaks? Five feet is my personal best. My son once got a couple of steps before his bag broke, dropping 5 pounds of apples that then proceeded to roll down the driveway. Clearly I have corrupted him. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Can I carry 18 bags of groceries into my house at one time? Seriously, I have a thing about two trips. I would rather burden myself down with 50 bags than make an extra trip. I have bags hanging off my neck, my ankles, my ears, my nose..........anything with a "handle" on it, and anything to avoid making a second trip.

I love pairing strange things up. Eggs. What can you pair with eggs and still be safe?

Bread is good. Paper towels are good. Toilet paper is good. But cans? What if the cans fall on the eggs?

Can you pair up eggs with a five pound bag of sugar. You cannot!

By the way, it is always good to tell a teenager which bag the eggs are in. I'm just sayin'.......

Instructions Have No Feelings

For some reason I have a mental block when it comes to some things. Like remembering why I went downstairs, following directions, trying to understand everything the doctor is saying to me, and listening to someone explain anything technical to me.

Directions are a problem. Please don't give me directions. Directions are for the weak at heart. I don't care if they are directions to your house, how to do something on the computer, or directions to the refrigerator. Please, spare me.

I don't have time for instructions either. Just put it together or fix it for me, o.k? I don't want to learn. You can learn and have fun with all that knowledge. Instructions are confusing and boring and take time. I just want to know how without having to learn how.

So if you ever write instructions for me, please do it something like this:

1. Look, Nan. I know you don't want to read how to do this. I know you'd rather read a good book or go blog or something. So ignore me. Instructions have no feelings so you can't hurt me.

2. Walk over to your husband or children and say "Helpppppp!!! me!"

3. Don't get offended when hubby or children laugh at how helpless you are and your children say "Really, mom? You seriously can't figure out how to do this?"

4. Do not wait for your husband or male children to finish what they're doing before they help you. Insist that they drop everything and help you NOW. This is always good for some marital tension and childhood frustration. Everyone needs the opportunity to learn patience now and then. This will give lots of opportunity for them to exercise it.

5. While they're helping you, insist that they do NOT stop and read the directions. Tell them directions are worthless and they should be able to figure it out on their own. They are men, after all. Men never bother with directions. Just ask your husband.

6. After they've insisted on reading the instructions ask them if they're finished. Thirty seconds is long enough for anyone to read a 1,000 page document.

7. Don't let them explain how to do it. You don't want to learn how to do it. Their job is to do it for you. Tell them that. We all need to be good at something, and they can be good at reading instructions.

8. Let your eyes glaze over and start to close if they start talking technical and try to explain things to you. Look as if you're in pain. Whine if you need to.

9. Remind them again that you don't want to know how it works, why it works, or what to do to make it work. You just want it to work. Period. Just work and do the job you've asked it to do. Is that to much to ask?

10. If they follow the instructions and they STILL can't figure things out, don't forget to say "I told you so!"

Signed, The Instructions

Dear Doctor.....

After I recently went through some medical testing and stuff, the doctor gave me a picture of my stomach and colon, and while I was touched, I wasn't really sure what I should do with it.

Should I put it in my wallet and break it out and show people? "Oh, what beautiful children you have! Want to see a picture of my colon?????"

I don't think my colon is as cute as my doctor obviously thinks it is. I mean, he must think it's cute, why else would he have given me a picture of it? I'm looking at my stomach and colon and trying to decide if they take after my mother's side or my father's side........whom do they resemble more?

I have never been really into a lot of those "keepsake" items. Yes, I do have some of my children's baby teeth but my hubby said "We gotta keep that!" after they fell out. I'm really not sure about the charm of keeping old teeth that even the former occupants are no longer using, however my hubby is sentimental that way.

I still don't know what to do with that picture. It's not exactly something that you want to frame and put up on the wall. However, I would almost love doing that just to hear the comments I would get. Maybe I could make an adorable little name plaque for it and put it underneath.

Wouldn't it be funny to go visit someone and get to see a whole new side (or inside) of them????? I think I am going to send my doctor a thank you letter.

Dear Doctor,

Thank you for this lovely picture of my insides. Now I suddenly feel so much closer to them than I did before. I have named the puppy.....or the colon. Suddenly, they seem so much more real to me, now that I have a "face" to go with the name.

I am thinking of using it as the picture for next year's Christmas cards and you will be one of the first to be blessed with one. Please send me your home address as soon as possible.

I am also thinking of using it as my profile picture on facebook. Please let me know if you want to be my facebook friend so you can see it. Please don't tell my stomach that I will using my colon's picture as my profile, because I don't want my stomach to get jealous.

If I ever get my appendix out, I can only assume that I will leave the hospital with a lovely parting gift. Your generosity knows no bounds.

I am sure, in the years to come, that my colon and I will form a lasting friendship. Thank you for sending me the picture. I will cherish it forever.

Your friend,