Random thoughts... and such

1. Why is it that sheep don't shrink when it rains on a hot day, but if my sweater is wet and gets a little warm, I can't wear it anymore?

2. Why is it that strange little children come up to me in public and ask me questions? Does something magical happen when you become a teacher? Do you gain a certain "school smell" that attracts strange kids?

3. Why don't people accept good advice from someone experienced?

4. Why is humor and sarcasm such a big deal to some people? Are there just people in this world that "don't get it?" Will they ever "get it?" and if they don't... can I send them to live on their own island?

5. Is it acceptable to punch random annoying people in the face? Or is a stink eye perfectly acceptable? What if they don't get the stink eye... See #4. I am sure they are the same type of people.

6. There some people that should not even think about reproducing... I think all the condoms the government wants to dish out to Kindergartners and school children should be sent UPS express to these individuals. With a color fold out of instructions, and why they are doing society a favor. (Yes.... you may be offended by this one. But you KNOW there is someone you have seen/know/are related to that falls in this category...)

7. There are some people in this world that need to realize that grammar and correct speech save lives... especially in my presence. 

8. It feels good to be on my soap box sometimes.. I should do it more often. At the moment, my darling baby thinks it's a good idea to have an ice cream cone. While in the future, I am sure I will say no, because it will ruin her dinner... but seeing as how I could devour a whole Brontosaurs solo at the moment.... I think she has a great idea.

peace, love, ice cream and pickles...

hormonal pregnant rants are awesome.

A baby! What?... A baby?

Yes, that's right. There is going to be a baby in JFTB land, and that baby happens to be mine! You can imagine over the course of 3 months how hard it has been to not want to just sign in and blog about every little moment. Well, some people I know are quick to jump the gun and want to tell the world they are having a baby before the pee on the pregnancy test is dry... I feel, however, a practical approach to things is sometimes best, and I'm glad I did. For one, I have discovered that when you officially tattoo your forehead "I'M PREGNANT" every woman over the age of 50 has some horror story to tell you, or they want to talk about their pregnancy or this and that, breast this, blood and guts... blah blah blah.

Sorry ladies, the only uterus this girl cares about is her own. Please save the blood and gore for another victim. Which makes me wonder... why are they compelled to tell you that crap? Technology is so much better than it was 30 years ago. My ultrasound pictures resemble a baby growing in my body, if I were to whip out my baby book and take a look at the sonogram picture, it would resemble something that looks like someone forgot to pay their cable bill. I don't understand why older women want you to hear about Aunt Mable's 38 hr labor with no drugs, down at the barn and Uncle Jed had to cut the cord with his rusty pocket knife before the doctor could even get there.... I'm already pregnant. If you want to decrease the number of teen pregnancies, this should be your audience, not me. I have a career and I'm willingly starting a family, the "right way".

I will say, at the moment it is still slightly surreal. I have passed the sick and tired stage, thank goodness, although I can proudly say that I never had bad "morning sickness" (it's ok, if you did... you can hypothetically punch me now), I never threw up (but I can say I came close, but I have an intense fear of barf... even if it's my own, which probably psyched me out of barfing... yes, and I'm going to have an infant...), just very tired and not feeling myself. Now I'm in a new place, where none of my clothes fit, but the maternity clothes I bought (because I don't see the point in buying clothes I may or may not be able to wear in a few months... why not go in for the long haul) are in an awkward not totally fitting right phase. When I think I feel HER (because it is going to be a girl... ) I discover it is just the wonderful blessing of pregnancy gas. Although, the other day, I did feel like a little goldfish was swimming in there... you know, like when you have a goldfish in the bag, and it is bumping the sides trying to get out?  

It's all new, and it's all exciting. I have such GREAT friends that are moms and new moms. I can't wait to learn a lot from them. I'm just hoping I'm as awesome of a mom as my mom... because she's the cat's pajamas.


 

FML...

let's recap.... a series of events from the last hour. After being gone almost a week, we come home to a snake slithering in front of the house, Jason kills it by slamming it with a rubber mallet. Inside the house, I discover that 2 of 3 cats somehow got locked in the guest room and made a HORRID mess, (meaning they pooped all over the floor in front of the door, and throughly peed all over the folded comforter on the bed). They somehow ruined Jason's brand new Calvin Klein suit (with the tags still on, and plastic bag cover) that was on the floor outside the room, (it was hanging in the doorway when we left) It seems while digging at the door in panic they brought some of the suit under the door, and peed on it also ripping the sleeve), AND we discovered the water hose had been left on the whole time we were gone. Fortunately (maybe) the sprayer attachment was on, but water was shooting out like Spindletop from the spigot at the top of the hose. 
So... A.) I'm thankful our house wasn't broken into.
 B.) That would have topped it all off. We could have torched the place at stayed the night at a Holiday Inn.


 Needless to say, Team Woodall hates life right now... And Baylee and Ladle are recovering concentration camp victims.

Good things brewing on the block...

There are some good things in store for JFTB. I must say, in the last 2 months I have been privy to some of God's greatest blessings, and can't wait to see what else he has in store. On a side note, I must say, I am NOT a green thumb by any means, but I can manage to grow a mean banana pepper... (As my Ouiser Boudreaux spring break garden experiment hoped to produce)

As you can see, some are twice the length of my index finger! I've seen these pickled and ready to go for sandwiches at Subway, but I don't know much else about them. Guess we'll see! This has to be the worst blog post in the history of blogs, but I haven't felt much like writing lately... Do I have a fever? Am I sick? Maybe the writing bug will bite soon... In the mean time. Happy growing! Sometimes the secret is in the garden keeper! :)

Today is O dot M dot G day.

"The Snake Charmer" by Henri Rousseau

"I'm naked and snakes are everywhere! I knew I shouldn't have eaten those mushrooms back there!"

Gardening with Ouiser Boudreaux (based off of Billy Collins' poem "Shoveling Snow With Buddha")

I pull into the driveway from a long excursion at Lowes, and with my husband's help we cart in 40 bags of top soil, organic matter, landscaping timbers and such. Jason assembles the timbers into a box-like shape to hold the dirt for my raised garden. I wait inside in the a/c for my friend Ouiser Boudreaux to show up. I am glad she is coming to help because I am NO green thumb, and Jason doesn't do plants. It isn't 5 minutes later and Ouiser just comes waltzing into my living room, slamming the front door shut like she owns the place. "In case your wondering," she snickers, "I didn't see the point of knocking because you know I am here! You can't help but know when the neighbor 6 doors down is home because of your dog's insane bass bark." I smile and pat Duke on the head. "You are momma's baby boy!" I coo at him and scratch his chin. He grunts just like he did when he was a puppy. Ouiser can do nothing but stick her tongue out at me. 

We head to the backyard and I don't even make it to the back door when she starts in on me. "For Christ's sake! You can't go out in that crap!" she snaps. "What ever are you talking about? Athletic shorts, a tee shirt and this baseball cap are perfectly appropriate for this mission, love." I can't take it when she thinks she knows everything. "Well what am I supposed to wear? I am gardening for crying out loud!" I scream at her, because talking nice never gets me anywhere. "You have to wear overalls, a ratty white tee," she tosses me a straw hat, "and this ugly ass hat." We get outside and work the earth, and magic starts to happen in her hands. We talk about life, our families and she taught me some valuable lessons....

1. Southern women are destined to grow old, wear ugly clothes and grow vegetables in the dirt. 

2. Tell it like it is... always.

3. Fake people can kiss your ass.

4. Ugly overalls make tomatoes grow faster.

Today, I get to watch childhood favorite TV shows (Hey Dude and Salute Your Shorts) I found on Itunes!

~Twanda, out.

The Awe-manac... Day uno.

A big thanks to the Soup-Lady, Mama-O, et. al. for highly persuading me to get this diddy. It will save my life.

Today is: "Homie don't..." day

"Souls wouldn't wear suits and ties, they'd wear blue jeans and sit cross-legged with a glass of red wine.  ~Carrie Latet"

* Souls would congregate on my back porch on a warm crisp summer night. The scent of citronella would linger on the night breeze, keeping mosquitos at bay on this night entranced with laughter. Souls would talk about REAL things... They would comment on their husbands, and who is doing what, and when and why. They would talk about that crazy sister of theirs, and weird guy. Pets, babies, wanting to have babies... it would all come out in the wash. Souls would talk about the good and the bad. Souls would find refuge on my porch. It would be the YA-YA mecca of the century. The souls hobbies would have to include a divine appreciation for all that is wine, because it would be seriously flowing on the porch. The souls would know how to dance. Sweet Home Alabama playing in the back ground. The souls know how to do everything from "The Lawn Mower" to the "Soulja Boy". You never quite know what the moment may call for. What happens on the porch, stays on the porch.

My Relationship with Jeans....

     I would say all women have a love/hate relationship with jeans. On most days, I LOVE my jeans. Notice I said... 'most days'. The things I love about jeans:

1. I love wearing jeans to work. There is something about wearing them that says, "Please mess with me today, I am wearing jeans and can easily kick your ass."

2. Jeans are the only pair of pants that get better the more days you wear them. Granted, they may smell a bit funky (invest in some Febreeze), but they fit like a million bucks the second day you wear them.

3. They are easy to wash. They are husband proof in the laundry. You can't screw up washing jeans.

4. No ironing required. Nuff said.

5. The right pair can make your butt look like you are 18 and ready to rock.

6. They play the same role as that tuxedo t-shirt. You can be formal, or ready to party...

The things I HATE about jeans...

1. If you wear a pair too small, you have the potential to 'muffin-top'. That is grounds for immediate fashion police citation.

2. It is not okay when your fat jeans become your NOT fat jeans...

3. It super sucks when it is raining and you are wearing jeans and the bottoms get wet in the rain, and you aren't going directly home where you can change out of your soggy bottomed pantaloons. 

4. I hate it when jeans play a big "SIKE!" and aren't 100% dry from the dryer, and you don't find out until pulling them all the way up to discover it is the crotch. There is that defining moment where you think for a second, " Did I just pee myself?"

5. I also hate it when you experience "dryer shrinkage" and have to do the fat girl jeans dance, to get them on... 

My Momma once said she would love to be buried in her jeans. I think jeans are amazing. 

Stay tuned for more from my porch....

Peace.

Love. and Recycle.

The first official rejection notice is fuel for the fire...

I get this email in my box:

Hi Jennifer,

Infinite apologies for taking so long to get back to you; I've been
swamped with submissions, and I'm reading slower than I thought
possible.

I want to thank you so much for writing to The Rumpus. I'm sorry to
say that your submission is just not right for us, and we're going to
pass on it. Nevertheless, we really appreciate you submitting and
contributing to the revolution!

Also, wow, middle school English teacher. Mine changed my life. While
it's a noble profession, I also hope you trade it in for best-selling
novels. That's the dream.

Very best,

E*******
Editor
Funny Women




I will have you know, Miss Thang--- that just because I don't write overly heinous vulgar for humor... I will still make you wet your pants. Please come over and sit in my presence with a bottle of wine, and see if you won't secretly go to the bathroom and hook yourself up with a precautionary pad or a set of Depends... It is on like Donkey Kong.