on advice

Everyone has that person in their life who gives unsought advice. Are you thinking of that person in your life? If you don't have one of those people in your life, then guess what? You're that person who gives advice to your friends.

The person who doles out uninvited advice in my life is a dearly loved individual, whom I call fairly often. This is a sample conversation from a couple of weeks ago:

Me: So, I was in my doctor's office, the nurse had already taken my vitals and I was waiting.

Not Dr. Phil: Were your vitals okay?

Me: Yeah, they were fine. Anyway, so I'm waiting and 10 minutes goes by and I hear the doctor's voice and he's talking to someone about shrimp right outside the exam room.

NDP: Maybe they were allergic to shellfish.

Me: Not so much. It was a drug rep telling Dr. Nameless about all the shrimp dishes she makes and that next time she calls on him she will bring barbecue shrimp.

NDP: That sounds delicious.

Me: Then the drug rep, my doc, and the nurses start doing the scene from Forrest Gump. And I can hear all of this.

NDP: That was a good movie.

Me: Yeah, it was. So, I'm wondering how long this is going to go on, then I hear my doctor say "Owww" and the nurse asks if he's alright and he says he's stapled his finger. When he finally comes into the exam room he's all bandaged up and I'm just sitting there wondering what Three Stooges movie I'm in."

NDP: Well, you know what Dr. Phil would say about that…

And that's when my eyes roll back into my head. Not only do I not know what Dr. Phil would say about that, I do not want to know what Dr. Phil would say about it. Really. Not only that, but sometimes when you're talking to another person, you're just relaying a story or you want to be heard, not be given advice. It's even more aggravating when the person is a loved one. Dear sweet mother of Oprah, it's the worst when they're quoting Dr. Phil. I simply can't take it.

After talking to the Not Dr. Phil in my life, I thought to myself, "self, you could have an advice column. Hell, you could have an advice talk show." Really. My friends and family often come to me for advice, maybe they have seen the obvious gift I have for the advice game. I'm pretty sure I'm as decent at it as Dr. Phil and I'm certainly cuter. So, I've compiled a list of Dr. Philisms and under each one is the Kerry spin: real advice from a woman of the people.

Awareness without action is worthless. Dr. Phil McGraw

Neither awareness nor action will happen without my morning coffee. Not gonna happen. Kerry B. Faler

You're only lonely if you're not there for you. Dr. Phil McGraw

Sometimes you need a friend. Sometimes being there for you is what I call having multiple personalities. But hey, guess you're never lonely if you have multiple personalities. One is the loneliest number, by the way. Kerry B. Faler

You cannot be who and what you are unless you have a lifestyle, both
internally and externally, that is designed to support that definition
of self. Dr. Phil McGraw

Hey, it's not a lifestyle, I was born this way! I'm attracted to the opposite sex and I make no apologies for it! I did not choose this lifestyle — no one would want the lifestyle of a straight, pale, redhaired, creatively scatter-brained, plus-sized love-goddess supermodel . Okay, so I'm not a supermodel, I exaggerated a bit. Kerry B. Faler

If you want more, you have to require more from yourself. Dr. Phil McGraw

If you want more go back for seconds. Anybody from the south knows you don't walk away from the table hungry. Our grandmothers wouldn't have it. Oh, and check before in case it's a potluck, you may be required to bring something yourself. I suggest a nice peach cobbler or a trifle. Everyone likes a trife. Kerry B. Faler

Sometimes you make the right decision, sometimes you make the decision right. Dr. Phil McGraw

Always get directions or have GPS. I can't tell you how many times I made the decision to make a right and it should have been a left! This would have been a non-issue if I had brought the TomTom and we would have arrived on time and not had an arguement. Kerry B. Faler

You have the duty and gift of living. You don't have the right to sit
on the sidelines–use your life and get back into the game. Dr. Phil McGraw

Maybe you just haven't found the right game! I was never good at sports, then lo and behold, I made it to my college's intramural finals in badminton (true story). Sometimes it takes a while to find what game is right for you, and boardgames count too! Anyone for Trivial Pursuit? I kick ass at Trivial Pursuit. Kerry B. Faler

Failure is no accident. Dr. Phil McGraw

Failure can be fun! I failed lots of subjects in school and had to go to summer school one year. I made a friend in my class who loved all the new wave music I liked and made me a few cool mixed tapes. That year I also dated a boy from my driver's ed class. Oh, and because of my failing grades in college algebra, I had a supercute math tutor. You can get a lot out of failure! Kerry B. Faler

The most you get is what you ask for. Dr. Phil McGraw

Sometimes you don't get what you ask for. And sometimes you get something better than what you asked for. Sometimes what you asked for isn't what you needed in the first place. Really. Did you need a pony from Santa when you were nine? No. Did you need that restraining order after your stalker wouldn't leave you the hell alone after he stole your Fleetwood Mac Greatest Hits cd and kept showing up outside your college dorm? YES! It's need versus want, baby. And like Mick said, you can't always get what you want, but if you try, sometimes you get what you need. Kerry B. Faler

The quickest way from A to B is not always at the most feverish pace. Dr. Phil McGraw

Look, I was never that great at word problems and I'm pretty sure Dr. Smartypants is trying to trick me on that one. All I know is if you need to get from point A to point B, be sure you have plenty of gas, some cash, a change of undies (always a good idea), and good driving music. And for goodness sakes, take the directions and don't speed. Kerry B. Faler

You need to listen to your body because your body is listening to you. Dr. Phil McGraw

My body must need hearing aids, 'cause it sure can't hear me. I tell my body all the time: be a size ten! And every morning I wake up the same size. I tell my nails to grow thicker and they're still thin — my nails and my ankles are the thinnest parts of me — my body has a great sense of humor. My body has done it's own thing since I was 16. We're barely on speaking terms these days. Kerry B. Faler

If you need advice, leave your dilemma in the Comments. A friend and reader reported that the Comments work if you're on Firefox, so TAKE THAT INTERNET EXPLORER!

Kerry: now available in 40oz

Since it is a beauty question of top priority, I'm obsessing over the body shape/figure type thing. This retro ad is the height of fabulousness, don't you agree?

Maybe I should warn you, I'm in a mood. I have issues. Whatev.

I so love Ms. Megabra in her girdle mocking me with her head thrown back in laughter. She's saying, "Bwaahahahaha! Don't you wish you had my skinny ass? Just look at my clavicle! You haven't seen your clavicle since 1991! Envy me and my 'average' body!"

Bitch.

Check out the silhouetted chicks. Average, Junior, Straight hip, Full hip, and Stout. I like my body like I like my ale, stout. Sure. Hell, why not?

Just for fun, here's the definition of Stout.

–adjective

1.	bulky in figure; heavily built; corpulent; thickset; fat: She is getting too stout for her dresses.

2.	bold, brave, or dauntless: a stout heart; stout fellows.

3.	firm; stubborn; resolute: stout resistance.

4.	forceful; vigorous: a stout argument; a stout wind.

5.	strong of body; hearty; sturdy: stout seamen.

6.	having endurance or staying power, as a horse.

7.	strong in substance or body, as a beverage.

8.	strong and thick or heavy: a stout cudgel.

–noun

9.	a dark, sweet brew made of roasted malt and having a higher percentage of hops than porter.

10.	porter of extra strength.

11.	a stout person.

12.	a garment size designed for a stout man.

13.	a garment, as a suit or overcoat, in this size.

Origin:
1250–1300; ME (adj.) < OF estout bold, proud < Gmc; cf. MD stout bold, MLG stolt, MHG stolz proud

Related forms:

stoutly, adverb

stoutness, noun

Synonyms:
1. portly, fleshy. Stout, fat, plump imply corpulence of body. Stout describes a heavily built but usually strong and healthy body: a handsome stout lady. Fat,
an informal word with unpleasant connotations, suggests an unbecoming
fleshy stoutness; it may, however, apply also to a hearty fun-loving
type of stout person: a fat old man; fat and jolly. Plump connotes a pleasing roundness and is often used as a complimentary or euphemistic equivalent for stout, fleshy, etc.: a plump figure attractively dressed. 2. valiant, gallant, intrepid, fearless, indomitable, courageous. 3. obstinate. 5. brawny, sinewy.

That's enough knowledge for today. Why the hell are "fat and jolly" used together all the time? I have never been jolly in my life. Sure, I've been happy. I've been a lot of things and jolly is not one of them. Obstinate is one of the synonyms and I'll take that. From now on my figure type is obstinate.

350

Dear Friends and Readers,

Here's hoping this day is treating you especially superfantastic and you're having a good hair day, you found five bucks in your pocket you forgot about and you did that cool look you give to the mirror when you know you're looking cute (oh come on, you know you do it too). Why? Because you're my interwebs friend and we spend a couple of minutes together a few times a week and I want you to know that I appreciate you coming here. You could be off reading the news (bor-ring, kidding, y'all know I'm a news junkie) or looking at lolcats (love me some lolcats), but you're here and that's great.

So, why am I all mushy and thankful? Because it's a special post day in The Kerry Blog world. I suddenly feel the urge to write "tonight on a very special Blossom." Girls my age will get that. Anyway, this post makes 350 posts on The Kerry Blog, Scraps & Lagniappe. That number comes from the WordPress entries I migrated over to Typepad, combined with the Typepad posts. That's not counting the first two versions of the blog (I'll go into that shortly). Y'all know I can't do math, Typepad shows how many posts there are on the dashboard, I didn't count anything, don't worry — my head isn't going to explode.

35o.

That's a lot of words, pictures, random musings, lists, rants, music, letters, videos, and a whole lot of TMI. I'm not fond of the acronym TMI. I tend not to like anything in all caps, plus it makes me think I'm trying to spell Tim, but I got dyslexic for a second. I'm not dyslexic, but my brain is faster than my typing (and I type pretty fast), which explains all the mistakes and ommitted words you've seen in this blog. ADHD is something else, obviously I can't stay with one thought for more than two sentences. See, I did it again. Back to the subject of too much information — in "real life" I'm not one to over share, save for a few close friends and the hubs, but for some reason on the blog, I tell you people semi-personal things that in a day or so after I write, I've forgotten about. Then someone stops me in Target and says "that was funny about your bra sticking up past your shirt." And I'm all, "yeah, that was funny," trying to think of why this person knows about my bra issues (of which there are many) and wondering if I have multiple personalities, one being a stripper. Then as I walk away, I realize it's from the blog. I'm guessing this kind of thing doesn't happen to most of you.

The funny thing about this blogging thing is you may start out blogging about one thing, and end up with something very different.

I started my first blog on Homestead back in in 2002 when the hubs' job brought us to Ft. McMurray, Alberta, Canada as a way to easily have one place for our family back in Louisiana to see what we were up to, pictures of Molly (and later, Katie), pretty normal mom stuff. In October of 2004, I found myself bored. We'd moved to Mandeville, where the hubs grew up, and his job once again sent him out of the country. This time it was Afghanistan. It was the first time our little fam was living apart and I found myself pretty depressed and emotional, which wasn't fun. I'd joined the MOPS group at our church and started scrapbooking again with some friends I'd made in MOPS, but I was missing the hubs terribly. Then two weeks after he'd left for the Middle East, I started thinking maybe I wasn't just a little emotional and lo and behold, the EPT test didn't lie. I was put on light bedrest and grew very addicted to the computer, since I couldn't do many of the things I was used to doing, and so, being bored out of my mind, I started a blog on Blogspot. It was a very family-oriented blog, lots of pics of the kids, a few funny stories, and for the most part, short entries, nothing big. The pic is from the era of the Blogspot blog taken at the Audubon Aquarium. Molly's running out of frame and Katie is attached to my hip. I was rockin' the twinsets as you can see (y'all know I don't post many pics of myself — goodness, and full length at that, so enjoy).

As moms do, I got busy with the things of life, neglected my blog and pretty much abandoned it. When I attempted to start blogging again, I found the Blogger platform a little limiting (this was two years ago before the new Blogger rolled out) and switched to WordPress, deciding I would focus on having a scrapbooking blog. Scrap & Lagniappe was born. The name meaning it would be scrapbooking and a little something extra. That lasted a whole 8 posts before I read about a woman who was suing Victoria Secret because a rhinestone or something popped off her thong and hit her in the eye — this was clearly something I needed to contribute my thoughts to. That was the day I found my blogger voice, so to speak. Sure, it was to expose the tackiness/ridiculous in the world (and make fun of it mercilessly), but someone had to do it. Occasionally I post scrapbook layouts, but it turned out this blog became more about the lagniappe. And that's fine with me.

Apparently it's fine with you too, because I have more readers than ever. Last week's Grey's Anatomy Finale post was a record night, with over 870 hits in two hours — that's something I never expected when I started this little blog. And it's still my little blog. As you may have noticed, there is no sponsor of this blog, no advertising, no PayPal tip jar — this is my outlet for sharing (and over-sharing) part of my day with you. Many of you are friends from childhood, high school, college, and so on. I think most of the family stopped reading long ago (irony, man). Many of you are friends of friends. Many of you I've never met, will probably never meet, and that's okay, I appreciate you stopping by just as much as my bestest friends. What's still not okay with me is that the comments aren't working, but I've gone on about that enough in other posts, I suppose.

I thought that since this is a post about you, I'd share some things I find interesting about you. This week there have been as many of you in Melbourne, Australia reading as in Shreveport/Bossier, LA where I grew up. You have no idea how much that makes me laugh. The hometown is almost getting beat by the Aussies. Somehow, I always knew I'd be big in Australia (that's a joke, yo). I've been visited this week by people all over the interwebs: from Modena, Italy to Mountain View, CA from Tokyo to Murfreesboro, TN and everywhere in between.

This week's top keyword searches that brought some of you to this blog were:

Brandon Flowers INXS
TJ Maxx co
mmercial redhead
Skymall happy feet
why does hank williams jr always wear sunglasses (yes, I mentioned this once)
vampire scraps (I don't even understand that one)
"i miss you i miss you i miss you" 80's song (that would be "Cut Here" by the Cure)
what not to wear dr appointment
Anna Bess Simmons (shout out to AB! woot-woot)
and
sky scrap for ceiling (I don't get that one either)

So, that's the ins and outs of The Kerry Blog. That's the past and the present. So, what's for the future? Your guess is as good as mine as life goes on this long and winding road. I can tell you that as long as wacky things happen to me, I'll write about them; and as long as there are wacky things happening in the world, I'll write about those too. After all, someone has to be here to tell you about her crush on Anderson Cooper and the stuff that passes for news. Someone has to ask the hard questions and live-blog award shows. Someone has to tell you what tunes you need on Tuesdays and give you a Sunday rewind to the 80's. But, for the immediate future, here's a heads up: the blog will get a complete make-over at the end of June. That's right, people, I'm taking it bigtime. Or something like that, since I've commissioned a real blog designer to do it. And in July, the month of my birth, I'm predicting high anxiety as I turn the numero 35. I am not happy about this, because I don't feel 35, whatever that feels like, and I'm pretty sure that's officially thirtysomething. Last year on my birthday, I wrote the 34 things I know, this year it will be 35 things. I'm hoping I've learned a few things so I'll have something to write about, 'cause at this moment, I got nothing.

Once again, thank you for reading. I'll see you back here tomorrow or the day after with something new. Be good.

xxxooo,
Kerry

buzz buzz

Dude, it's been a busy week for the queen bee. We got back from Atlanta Sunday evening and I started working to finish the ScrapFest! website for the re-launch. I had Andrew's speech evaluation Monday (which I had totally forgotten about until Sunday night), Mother's Day gifts to buy, gifts to mail, and the re-launch this week. The website takes up a ton of my time at two points during the months leading up to the event — right now being one of them, getting the whole damn thing changed, colors, background, fonts, dates, the PayPal store, and all the Photoshop that goes with that. All of the elements were created in Photoshop I learned a few new tricks for making things like the torn notepaper and the new scalloped menu buttons. I'm pleased. Last weekend at ScrapEtc. we took a class from the fabulous Jessica Sprague and I got the chance to ask her some Photoshop questions, which for a self-taught girl like myself, that was a great experience. I so wish when I had started working with da Shop I knew about Jessica's online classes. She has lovely classes that teach digital/hybrid scrapbooking using Photoshop Elements and they are fantastic. If you're interested in learning from one of the masters, visit her site, you'll be glad you did.

And so, we're off to Houston for the weekend for some time with the hubs. We'll be heading to Kemah tomorrow for Boardwalk fun with the munchkins and good food. Scott said he wants to go to Joe's Crab Shack, but I'm thinking the kids would love The Aquarium. I would much rather go to Caddilac for Mexican food because I'm trying to stretch Cinco de Mayo to include the entire month.

Here's a sneek peek at the new ScrapFest! site. Y'all have a fab weekend and a wonderful Mother's Day.

this just in

My uterus hates me. I just thought I would make that known to the public.

P.S. if you have some Tylenol 3 or I don't know, maybe an elephant tranquilizer laying around, could you bring it over?

newsflash: spring break = spring nervous breakdown

So, everyone's all "what are y'all doing for spring break?" as if it's some national holiday. While it's true the kids are out of school all next week, life goes on here at the ranch. I haven't put much thought into the break and honestly, I'm just getting my groove back after ScrapFest. The idea of going on a trip of any kind doesn't sound like heaps of fun right now.

If I had to make a decision on spring break today I'd have to pick staying home. I like a fun trip as much as anyone, but at the moment, the hubs is working in Houston and while he will be home for the weekend, his employer didn't see that memo about spring break being a mandatory holiday, so he will be back at work next week. And so, traveling with the 3 munchkins doesn't scream rainbows and unicorns of happiness.

Knowing me like you do, dear readers, you know that it really doesn't matter which path I choose: staying home or traveling, it is sure to be a disaster. Disaster, Kerry? Yes, disaster, readers. It truly doesn't matter what sort of activities I plan, it's bound end up as the biggest parade of nervous breakdown fodder you've ever witnessed.

Provided we do stay home, I give you permission to be green with envy of my staycation!

Check out the digs at the illustrious Faler Family Compound: staycations come complete with the following amenities: 3 fully furnished messy bedrooms, 2 1/2 baths that need cleaning and never have clean towels, and a scrapbook office which, while fully equipped with every scrapbooking supply known to man is still not set up well enough to crop. Also available in this package is the state of the art gourmet kitchen with ambient lighting (read: malfunctioning) and which comes stocked with and endless supply of Chips Ahoy, Goldfish Crackers, Bluebell icecream, and M&Ms. Frozen pizza available on request. A living/common area with comfy sofas, a million channels on the flat-screen tv, Playstation, wii, and practically every animated movie made since 1937. The common area also features wall-to-wall carpeting in a finish we like to call "calico." After you've enjoyed the indoor ammenities, feel free to relax in the shade-free backyard. Self-service laundry on site.

Don't worry, I'll send postcards.

the eff-it list

In reading Shapely Prose yesterday I came across a new brilliant idea, the F*ckit List, which is the exact opposite of the Bucket List, the list of things you want to accomplish before you die. I love this idea, probably because I'm truly a pessimist. I've always called myself an optimistic pessimist, if that makes any sense (it does to me). I try to see the silver lining around each cloud, but I tend to the think silver is most likely lead. It's a gift I have.

So, here's my F*ckit List, things I have no intention of doing before I die:

learn a foreign language — I haven't finished learning English
bungee jump or anything "extreme" enough to kill me
get a "real job"
get into a bikini by summer — apparently lots of magazines in the check-out line want me to do this
go back to school
go on "Survivor"
give up coffee — that's just laughable
try to get along with everyone
be criticized by Simon Cowell
go camping
see another Kevin Costner movie
ride in the Tour de France
learn to ski
ride a roller coaster — haven't been on one since I was a kid and threw up
drive a stick shift
learn to like fruit — I like 3 fruits and that's enough
give up chocolate
make a cake from "scratch" again
wear really high heels
mow the grass
become a bee keeper
scuba dive (sorry, hubs)
run a marathon
have a wardrobe malfunction at the Superbowl.
go to the Superbowl.
go to the Waffle House again
go to Japan
do yoga
have a rock garden — I think they're stupid, I can't help it
climb Mt. Everest or anything else made of rocks
ride an elephant in the circus
wear pantyhose again — no, I'm not kidding
go to the Turkey Creek Water Park
participate in a Civil War reenactment
see the Taj Mahal
see Celine Dion in concert (or in Target or anywhere else for that matter)
watch Top Gun again
go hunting
roller skate
go ice fishing
try to be perfect
watch what I say
become a vegan
like country music
appreciate opera
become a storm chaser
ride a bull
have 8 babies at one time
join the Flying Elvises
fight Mike Tyson

this should explain a lot

Although I've never been diagnosed with ADD (not the hyperactivity part for obvious reasons), I believe I have it and no one can convince me otherwise. I've had the hardest time trying to write a post for the past few days. Several times this week I have sat down with my laptop with an idea in my head (where I keep all my best ideas), write a title, start a sentence — maybe two, and something breaks my train of thought. Actually "train of thought" isn't such a great phrase for my thoughts. Maybe a "minivan of thoughts," maybe even a "caravan of thoughts," but I'm fairly certain I've never strung together enough thoughts to constitute a "train of thoughts."

Anyflaky, so I thought I'd walk you through the types of things that have happened while trying to blog over the past day or so.

I sit down to write about recording the commercial with my trusty laptop, cup of coffee, notepad, Sharpie pen, and phone. I get as far as the title when the phone rings.

Scott calls to say someone called him about a job in Angola (the country, not the prison). What is he thinking? I'm going to have a stroke. For real this time.
I Google "Angola" to make sure it's in Africa — yeah, it's still in Africa.
I sing the song "Africa" by Toto to myself
check the ScrapFest! email to see if we've received the MP3 of the commercial, nope
check Facebook and comment on stuff.
back to the blog
Andrew comes over for a snack. I tell him I'm not making blueberry muffins and no, he can't eat the baking powder. He finally accepts some Goldfish crackers. I have a cookie.
I decide to change my shirt, then end up putting on lipgloss, and look in one of my bags for my Pandora bracelet that is currently missing.
phone rings, it's my mother-in-law telling me to call my sister-in-law about the party this weekend
for some reason I give Andrew some Tootsie Rolls (this will haunt me later).
back to the blog, write exactly three words, hear Lucy bark and look outside
check email — no commercial
check Facebook, chat with a friend for a bit, check Kirtsy.com and look at a few popular stories (find a supercute outfit), check our bank account, check CNN
phone rings, it's Megan, Scott beeps in to say Angola's not that bad blah blah blah blah
check my email — ooooooo– Mignon Faget for Valentine's Day. Look at mignonfaget.com, decide they really should have made the bee earrings in silver to go with my pendant, but no one asked me. Think about making a Valentine's wish list, maybe earrings.
more coffee
read exactly half an article in Rolling Stone, Andrew wants to watch Thomas the train, so I put his DVD on, find that he has ground some Goldfish into the carpet, I vaccuum the Goldfish
back to the laptop, someone's trying to talk to me on Facebook, we chat, I watch Leslie Hall's "How We Go Out" video and laugh, check the weather for tomorrow, ponder what to wear to Andrew's speech eval, do some dishes, check SF email — no commercial, check my email — ooooooo — there's a perfect Olivetti Valentine typewriter on eBay. Now, that's a Valentine's gift! Think about Valentine's again. Think about Mardi Gras, should the kids and I go to S'port? Houston? Why the heck is school out for a week for Mardi Gras? Remind myself I live in south Louisiana.
phone rings, it's Scott saying he needs a table for his apartment. I try to blog while talking to him, can't — check out lolcats, FU Penguin,tell Scott to get a card table as we do not need another table, check out coolmompicks.com and email Molly about a funky kids clothing site.
back to the blog, check SF email — no commercial, call Megan and laugh about what music they could possibly put behind our voices on the ad. I was pulling for "Love Shack" or something else by the B-52's, the original southern party band, and Megan likes "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." I say we should have "Lowrider" and Megan agrees. As everyone knows, that is our original theme song for scrapbook trips. I put a few things in the dishwasher.
back to the blog, sing "Lowrider" and go to the iTunes store — I'm pretty sure they have subtly changed the interface, but I'm not positive. Ben Fold's "Bitch Went Nuts" comes on, I cringe when he says the C word. I'm not big on cursing, but not especially bothered by cursing, but the C word is just cringeworthy.
iTunes has a Paul McCartney EP, interesting. I hear Andrew say "uh-oh" and get up to see what he's doing — he has gotten himself stuck to the carpet. It looks like he had fallen asleep while eating the Tootsie Rolls and they are stuck to his cheek. Brilliant! I ponder how to remove my son from the carpet and decide a warm wet washcloth should do it. He cries while I go get the washcloth, cries while I apply the washcloth to his face, cries as he is freed, runs off to go upstairs and yells "thank Mom!" no, not "thanks," he says "thank." I clean up the carpet, wonder why we ever got carpet in the first place, decide that we should get wood in the living room and contemplate ripping up the carpet myself. Decide that's probably not a good idea.
back to the computer, completely forget what I was doing, never listen to the McCartney EP. Call Beth and tell her about the recording studio experience so she can have something to laugh at. My left eye starts watering — it's always my left eye — wassup with that? Stupid allergies. Chat with Mandy on Facebook about having lunch this week, I remind her to remind me to give her the clothes I have for Emily in a big Hefty bag that I've been driving around for almost a month.
pour myself another cup of coffee, losing track of how many cups that makes. Notice that it's kinda cold and think I should put on socks. I hate socks.
back to the blog, write exactly 0 words when the pop sound tells me someone's trying to say "what up?" on Facebook. I say "word." I notice I have a Friend Request and have no idea who the person is requesting my friendship. I email another friend to ask who this person is, as I have a memory like an encyclopedia of uselessness and can't place them. It dawns on me that I perhaps possibly may have gone to prom with this individual, then realize I went with another guy with the same first name. Whew.
look at the clock on the microwave and realize I never ate lunch. I do this everyday. Everyday, unless I'm having lunch with a friend. It seems as an adult I cannot remember to make a deadblame sandwich for myself as I make lunch for the kids. I feed the kids and usually get busy with other things and realize at 2:30 or so that I'm starving. This is a problem. Not life or death, but a problem, nonetheless. I wonder if there is some kind of service, like a wake-up call at a hotel, that would call and remind me to eat lunch — then I realize that is one of my dumber ideas. At 2:30 I don't know what to eat for lunch, it's not lunchtime, it's not dinner — what would Elvis do? I have cheese and crackers, like a grown-up Lunchable.
back to the blog, check our email — no commercial.
It's 3 o'clock and the girls are getting off the bus. I realize I have accomplished a big fat zero of nothing and try to think of a better answer to the question "what did you do today?" for when I talk to Scott later, because "some stuff" sounds stupid. I contemplate telling him I have ADD, but I know he would just shake his head and say "you've been on the computer all day, haven't you?" to which I would reply, "no, not really," which is the truth.

So, next time the blog isn't updated for a day or so, just know it's the ADD. Or mad cow, I'm not sure.

new theme song

If you're anything like me (which is possibly the most ridiculous statement I've ever made), you have a theme song.

A personal theme song for is quite the necessary accessory for your day, your week, your life. If you do not have a theme song, I suggest you go out an get one right this minute. But Kerry, I don't know what my theme should be, you say — well, I'm here to help, peeps.

Your personal theme song should reflect how you feel or how you want to feel, your attitude, or your beliefs. Or it could be that a song with lyrics that seem like they were written just for you. Everyone has had a moment when a song comes on the radio and you're blown away by the words. Say, if your name is Ruby and you're cheating on your spouse who happens to be a disabled veteran — your theme song could be "Ruby Don't Take Your Love to Town," by Kenny Rogers, recently covered by The Killers. There is no judging on the Kerry Blog, only love. And helping others. And sarcasm. And maybe a a wee little bit of judging, but it's only because I care.

Just for fun, I thought I'd share my theme song with you and all of the interwebs this weekend. It's always been Adam Ant's "Goody Two Shoes" for me, since forever.

I love that song. Which reminds me, I still haven't gotten those leather leggings and gun holster of piratecowboy.com I ordered a few weeks ago. While Adam Ant always wore more makeup and used more hair products than me, his song has played in my head through lots of moments of my life. After all, I've been Miss Goody Two Shoes forever and wear the crown gladly. By the way, "subtle innuendos follow, must be something inside" is the line everyone can't make out.

It's also helpful to have theme songs for specific activities, trips, and such. As of last night I have a new theme song for scrapbook trips courtesy of my friend Laurel who introduced me to the fabulousness that is Leslie Hall. This is the song that Laurel listens to while she gets ready to go out, because that's what the song is about, but because of a few lines, I'm declaring it the new scrapbooking trip song. Peeps, I give you "How We Go Out."

Simply awesome.

The lyrics I'm loving are:

On the way to the club we pass a Dairy Queen
You stop cause it you know it means so much to me
We take the back seats out of your mini van
Now we roll like a hummer or a full size sedan

obviously that would be because we have to take the back seats out of my van when we go on a trip. And thought we don't usually stop at a Dairy Queen on the way, we do stop somewhere for goodies.

You get me hotter than a stick a hot glue
And I'm scrapbooking everything we do
Ring ring ring- that's my cell
Bring the bling when I sing of course I will

FINALLY! A hip hop song that talks about scrapbooking! Now my life is complete.

You may return to your regularly scheduled weekend.

overheard at Walgreens this afternoon

After going to the grocery store, I stopped by Walgreens to get a pad of manuscript paper that's required for Katie's homework and while I was on the school supply aisle I got a pack of blue Sharpie pens as I do any time I'm in a store that has them. People, the Sharpie pens are the best. I've realized that because I have OCD about stupid things, I pick up a pack of Sharpie pens whenever I'm in a store that sells them, as not all stores do and apparently I'm afraid of ever being without one. I know this is eccentric behavior, but I've always been a pen person and it is not unusual for me to buy them in this manner, so don't get the straightjacket out quite yet.

So, I'm checking out at Walgreens and the older lady behind me starts writing her check as I'm paying for my items. This is the conversation I overhear between said customer and the clerk who is in her mid-60's, I'm guessing.

CUSTOMER: I don't know when I'll get the hang of writing 2009 on these checks.

CLERK: And it's passing by fast, January's almost over!

CUSTOMER: I know, I know!

CLERK: It will be February before we know it!

CUSTOMER: And February's a short month.

CLERK: Yeah, I saw that.

It took every bit of reserve God has given me to not open my mouth. Y'all know that's hard for me.