Mainly for my own amusement, I’ve compiled a list of Kerry Blog frequently asked questions, so maybe not frequently asked, but at least once I’ve had these questions asked through the magic email machine of the interwebs.  I’ve gotten enough questions to compile a list, so I made a page for you to read.

FAQs

1. Why won’t your blog let me leave a comment?

        I don’t know.  Typepad says nothing is wrong, that you have to wait for the page to load completely before you try to leave a comment, but it’s still not working.  All I do is write this thing.

2.Are you selling something?
        no.

3. Is that your picture on the blog?
        some of them are.

4. Isn’t this supposed to be a scrapbooking blog?  Why don’t you have more stuff on scrapbooking? 
        no, it’s supposed to be my blog.  ’cause.

5. Is Kerry your real name?
        as far as I know.

6. What do you do?
        this and stuff.

7. Is this supposed to be funny?
        sometimes.

8. Is this supposed to be serious?
        sometimes.

9. Where do you find the time to do this? 
        I don’t sleep.

10. How old are you?
        about your age, give or take.  

11. Is this blog PG-13?
        no.

12. Where do you like to hang out?
        my house 

13. Blah blah blah…That post on plus-sized women and pantyhose was the vilest bunch of mean-girl rage I’ve ever read.    No, you may not be a supermodel, but you certainly are ugly on the inside.  Where do you get off?
        hey now.  seriously?  you may want to read my fat rant post.

14. Do you do any public speaking?
        unless I’m talking to myself, nearly all of my speaking is in public.

15. I don’t have a question, but I think we’d get along.  Do you like sports?
        well, that was a question, now, wasn’t it?

I'm up (momentarily) getting the girls ready for school and checked the stats for the blog and woo-hoo!  there were more hits yesterday than in the history of the Kerry blog!  So, I just wanted to say thanks to all the bored people out there in my ever-growing readership.  That would be just shy of 200, and the stats have been hovering that number for a good while now.  Y'all rock.  Oh, and don't be shy — leave a comment so the regulars won't feel so lonely, I'm sure Anna Bess, Jenn, Melissa, Molly, Heidi, and Beth think they're my only readers! 

This afternoon I was leaving my subdivision to meet Megan for a ScrapFest! meeting at PJ’s (our corporate office headquarters) and I saw the lawn ornament that I’m pretty sure will stalk my dreams.  No visions of sugarplums here, just ostentatious Christmas decorations. 

Before I get into that, I’ll fill you in on the progress of planning ScrapFest! in March.  Meg and I made a bunch of decisions, but the most pressing matter at this time was planning our company Christmas party.  Really, we did a lot of planning and scheming, we are nothing if not workhorses for the man — which in this case is ourselves, I suppose.  Anyway, the ScrapFest company Christmas party will be a big shindig this year — of course it will be catered and have an open bar, live music, ice sculpture of Michelangelo with eggnog flowing, photographer, a Santa, reindeer to feed, bags of swag, and we will draw names for gifts.  I wish I could invite all of my readers, but unfortunately it is a company Christmas party.  When Megan realizes she and I are the company, she may cancel the party, so don’t tell her ’cause I really love eggnog and swag. 

Back to my major holiday pet peeve:  y’all won’t belive what the owners of the house from my previous video put up today.  I’ll let the new video speak for itself. 

Did you see it?  Okay, first of all, do the people really think they need any more crap on their lawn?  I think not.  Second, where do you even buy a Santa/reindeer teeter-totter?  And B, why would anyone make that?  I know, I know — capitalism and profit, but really, the Christmas lawn decorations are out of control.  Please for the love of eggnog, stop it. 

Now, I hate the obnoxious lawn decor, and I’m almost to the “if you can’t beat them join them” philosophy, but I won’t break that easily, peeps.  It’s going to take a lot more for me to fight them at their own game.  I’m not above going out under the cover of night and removing and hiding (notice I did not say steal, because that would be wrong) all of the inflatable lawn decorations.  I may even fashion dresses out of them for my portfolio for the next season of Project Runway, we shall see.  If I do result to fighting fire with fire, I will seek out these:

and no, we are not Jewish, but Jesus was and I think He would approve.  I think they will look great on my lawn.  Oh, and the neighbors will be so jealous, they may put up Kwanzaa decorations.  I really wouldn’t doubt it. 

Today was our trip home, big fun on the Interstates for our family of 5, plus Lucy the basset hound.  Right before we hit Alexandria (or as northern LA people say "Alec") Scott asked if we should stop to eat and I said we could wait until Lafayette.  He stopped, pulled in to a Cracker Barrel. 

I have a history with the Cracker Barrel.  It was a fun place to go in college because our friend Bryan would ask the server for a "40 minus 8 root beer" and we'd have a grand old time.  For those in the know, Cracker Barrel serves a 32 ounce root beer in a bottle.  I always got tea, sweet tea, as God intended iced tea to be.  We'd all eat too much and make fun of the place, as I tend to do anywhere I go, generally.  So, I continued to enjoy the Cracker Barrel until Scott and I had children. 

For some reason, the Barrel of Crack is a mecca for bad behavior and has tons of crap for sale that no
one needs.  I'm thinking you've never been sitting at the kitchen table and said to your spouse, "you know what we need?  Some candles that look like small logs, people will get the irony — that it's a log on fire."  No, really.  No one needs these. 

The best of the worst at Crack le Barrel (my fave of my nicknames for the place) are the knock-offs of actual decent stuff you'd find at real stores.  This is where the retail part of the joint goes beyond average and kicks it into high gear.  I'm thinking it's to tick me off.  I'm pretty sure the big
-wigs are thinking of stuff I have that they can
replicate and sell for cheap, knowing I'll come in and get all pissed off at it.  I can spot a knock-off of most anything at (and I'm bad a measurement, cause I missed that day in school) 50 yards.  The place 
loves to copy Vera Bradley bags.  I love a VB bag, especially my new one, a cargo-satchel wool plaid limited edition I carried all weekend.  Guess what I saw today.  Go ahead, guess.  I'll wait.  If you guessed a cargo-satchel wool VB knock-off you win one of those wooden triangle golf tee games that's missing a few tees.  Just for fun, I held up my bag (which is way mo better 'cause it's mine) and took a pic.  Want to play spot the fake?  Hint, it's the one with the price tag.  My VB is the pretty one on the bottom, looks like something I'd carry my gun in I were hunting, if I carried a gun or hunted.  Not that there is anything wrong with either of those.  Still, the knock-off is pretty damn close.  I'm sure lots of gun toting Crackle Barrel customers will be buying those for loved ones this Christmas, 'cause it would fit a pistol, cell phone, keys, and a lipstick.  And a silencer, duct tape, and maybe a body bag if folded properly. 

The absolute worst part of the retail side of the Crackhead Barrel is the toy section.  There are many new versions of old toys, like Raggedy Ann, Slinky and the like.  Now they also carry Webkinz, which are crack for kids.  There are stupid games and those weasel ball things.  I detest the toy section, because I know my girls love that crap.  My kids have expensive American Girl dolls, but show them a weasel ball and they're mesmorized.  Almost instantly, Molly starts asking for a stuffed parrot that copies what you say.  I told her we have 3 small people in our house that copy what I say, so, no, I don't think we need anything
like that.  Then I saw this.  Yes, that would be a stuffed possum on the right.  I can think of no good reason for a human being to own a stuffed possum.  I can think of no good reason for a child to have one of these or for an adult to purchase one for a child.  Well, maybe if it's to complete your stuffed roadkill collection, but that's it.  People, I'm sure I don't need to point out that the stuffed possum is being sold in the Crackle Barrel, where there may very well be possum on the menu.  I'm sure I don't need to point out that there were dead possums on the side of road before turning into Crackle Barrel.  I'm really sure I don't have to point out THAT IT'S A DAMN POSSUM.  This is the very reason I should be an Ambassador of Good Taste for the Obama administration so it would be my duty to remove items such as this from stores.  I have a feeling I would have had to clear out half the Cracker Barrel.  Seriously, does anyone reading my blog have connections?  I'd really love that job.  I'm the perfect candidate.

Finally, I have not mentioned that I am allergic to the place.  They sell virtually every smelly odor-producing thing known to man.  I'm shocked the possum's tag didn't advertise "now with authentic possum scent!"  When I walked into the store my nose started twitching and my eyes were itchy.  During our 30 minute wait, while taking pics of ridiculous products, I was on the Kleenex hunt and heard more "bless yous" than in Sunday service.  I was out of Zyrtec, no Benadryll, I was a sneezy, eye-watery mess.  Now, I'm a mess occasionally, but I hate being an allergy mess.  We had a chaotic lunch and left without any weasel balls, talking parrots, or possums.  And my lunch was possum-free, or at least that's what I'm led to believe. 

Every year at Thanksgiving we're supposed to reflect on what we're thankful for, and like most people, I count my blessings and am once again reminded of just how blessed I am.  It's great for what ails you, mentally, that is.  It's easy to get bogged down in the day-to-day, I know it is for me anyway.  Once in a while, stepping back and putting things in perspective helps a great deal.  A friend of mine gave me the perspective talk this week and I needed to hear it, as we all do from time to time.  So, here's my Thankful List as only I can write it; taking the daily with the extraordinary and rolling along.

This year I am thankful for:

my God and his promises
family
my husband and everything that makes him him
my oldest daughter Molly and the sweet, spacey girl she is
my middle one, Katie and her questioning, bossy self
my baby Andrew and his all-boy self

I'm thankful for:
medication
friends that listen
friends that are fun
friends that are great to laugh with
friends that know everything about you and like you just the same
cookies
pedicures
naptime
great music
scrapbook retreats
GPS
Thomas the Train
dvds and the dvr
Tuesdays and Thursdays
great purses that I know I'll never have enough of
John, Paul, George, and Ringo
Democracy
allergy medicine
makeup
the word NO
Target
the color pink
the miles between
trivia
Folex
superfantastic hair products
Mexican food
my dog Lucy
inspiration and creativity
sweet potato pie
the Swivel Sweeper
sleep
cameras
lazy days
the Audubon Zoo and Aquarium
decent health
Shakespeare
earrings
80s John Hughes movies
ceiling fans
hydrangeas and tulips
the power of the words "it will be okay"
freckles
white tees, khaki capris, and denim jackets
comedy
Hello Kitty
the iPhone
babysitters
the lock on my bathroom door
blogging
Emily Dickinson
books
chocolate
words of wisdom
great lipstick
plums
coffee
the Volatile shoe company
partners in crime
my office (when I finish arranging it)
Eggo's, Lunchables, and Goldfish
unexpected happies
quiet
knowing I'm not perfect and being okay with that
knowing there is no such thing as perfect (except for God), not even (insert whatever here)
feeling fabulous, whatever that is at the time
not being afraid
reading glasses
knowing better
little kid giggles
artwork
purpose
the way a song can make you feel
the interwebs
pajamas and slippers
a good drive
knowing when to hold my tongue
a great pen
my Mom Agenda planner
letting go
the everyday
timing
a good story
hugs and kisses
Vera Wang Flower Princess perfume
growing up
and knowing better

Well, that's my list for this year.  I'm sure some are the same as last, I'm sure some I should have kept to myself, and I'm sure there are some I've left out.  Pretty close to the top of the list is that I'm thankful to be alive and being exactly who I am.  That's a good thing.

Y'all have a happy Thanksgiving.  I'll be a guest in my hometown and will spend time with family and see friends I haven't seen in 15 years, not that I'm counting.  I've been busy with the things of life and haven't we all?  Feel free to leave your thankful list in the Comments and I'll talk to you next week if not before.  Have a wonderful Thanksgiving. 

Don't say I never hooked a sister up.  Webundies.com has grown-up girl Wonder Woman underoos in a cami & panty set.  Awe yeah.  And they have plus sizes, too for some of us. They're seriously too cute.  They also have Super Girl, but Wonder Woman rocks.  And don't worry boys, you can get Superman, Batman, or Spiderman undies (cape not included).

So, chickies, I think Tuesday nights are a good night for fighting crime.  You know, after House.  Y'all want to meet at Starbucks?  I'll drive. Just be sure to wear your underoos and be ready to kick some ass. I always like to do my ass-kicking after a venti java chip frap.  The city will be a safer place with us in our underoos.

Dear Madonna,

WTF? 
I'm all for going green these days, but recycling the grass clippings is a little much.  As much as I try to keep up with fashion, I missed the raw-hemp issue of Elle this year.  Natural fibers are fab, but I need a Zyrtec just looking at this dress.  Seriously, my eyes are itchy and I'm looking for my inhaler. 

The grass dress doesn't look very comfortable either.  I mean, how do you sit in that?  If the dress sheds, do you get a tiny rake out of your bag?  With the belt you kinda look like a topiary.  When I was a kid we used to drive by a house that had those fancy elephant wearing a tutu topiaries on the lawn and you're kind of reminding me of that.  A Madonna topiary.  The dress is a lot of look, but can we talk about the shoes for a minute?  I'm sure they were a bazillion dollars and all, but they look like gladiator sandals with Christmas ribbon around your ankles.  And forgive me, I'm not wearing my glasses, but are those fishnets?  Oh, I get it, the fishnets are to hold the grass clippings at the end of the night. 

Now, I know some might say I'm jealous, my being a full-figured girl and you're Madonna, but that's not true.  Lord knows if I looked like you I'd be naked all the time (fo realz), but if you showed up naked to this event, people would be all "Madonna's naked, big whup."  You showed them!  You're wearing sod!  Awesome. 

On second thought, it may be a green and black shag bathmat.  The more I look at it, I'm not so sure.  And I'm worried that if you turn around the back of the dress is the matching toilet seat cover.  I don't know what sort of event you're going to, but I can only assume it's going to rock and Snoop Dogg, Cheech, and Chong will all be in attendance.  Don't worry, I'm sure it's BYOBong.  Oh, and stay away from Snoop's brownies.  The secret ingredient is neither gin, nor juice.

Rock on,
Kerry

P.S.  Xena wants her bracelets back. 

http://www.someecards.com/usercards/someEcards.swf

I love and appreciate the English language probably more than most.  While I’m by no means the best at remembering certain grammar rules, one of my pet peeves is when I see grammar used poorly.  You know what I mean: quotation marks for no reason, apostrophes thrown all over the place, and I hate seeing words misspelled for fun.  No, I’m not talking about "wassup" or the like, I mean "Kamper’s Korner" or "Kids Konnection" — people love to do it with the letter K, my favorite letter of the alphabet.  That gets me.  I also hate it when people don’t seem to know when "your" or "you’re" is appropriate, as in "you’re blog is stupid and your a big beyotch for hatin on peoples all the time, you should ‘get a life’."   I threw in extra bad grammar for fun. 

Often in conversation and in writing I feel the need to use gangsta verbage for no reason.  I like to keep it gangsta, white girl style, since I am in fact the whitest white woman in America in terms of skin color, anyway.  How many women do you know are more fair than the lightest color of foundation in almost every make-up line in the drugstore or department store?  That’s what I’m talking about.  Fo shizzle.

I also use dashes heavily in my writing.  Dashes are good, Emily Dickinson used them, and if it was good enough for her — whatev.  I don’t know what the verbal equivilent of a dash is.  I’ll have to think about that.  That may require setting up my Flip camera and recording an actual conversation.  I may have to do something that resembles research to get to the bottom of that one.  Maybe I’ll just ask my friends — I can’t devote a lot of time to research, I have online Christmas shopping to do and magazines to read.

This morning while checking all my favorite fun websites, I actually laughed out loud at something I thought I’d share.  This is something I would have done when I worked in an office.  It’s quite brilliant for those of us in the grammar police.