Women are Funny

Women are really funny.

And not necessarily 'haha' funny - though some are really a riot - I mean funny 'weird'.

I can say this because I'm a woman.

I'm also blonde, so you really can't pin anything on me.

But yeah, women . . . we get attached to everything.

Point en case: my sister watches a ton of  HGTV.

Personally, I don't see the point in watching shows about things I can't afford (which is basically why I don't watch typical TV shows) but every now and then I catch a show or two while she watches it.

Oh. My. Gosh.

It's bloomin' hysterical.

Seems like on that show where they renovate their house and also look at new houses, the women want to stay and the men wanna move out.

Then it sorta comes out that she's emotionally attached to the house and he is totally cool with leaving.

There are a few episodes where it's the other way 'round, but this seems to be the norm.
Because to men, it's generally a house.
To women, it's a home.

The same goes for cars and other things that generally don't seem that important.
For instance: after I totaled my first car in an accident, my parents bought me another one for Christmas.
I loved that car.
But then the time came when it was highly suggested that I sell it.
I really didn't want to.
Why?
Not because it was a spectacular example of modern engineering of vehicles, but because I was emotionally attached to it.
It was a gift.
It was a second chance.
I'd also spent a lot of money on maintenance, but that wasn't the first thing to pop into my mind.
It was purely emotional.
It wasn't until I saw another car - that I could almost sort of afford - that the emotional attachment broke.
So I guess I basically cheated on my car.
But men don't tend to be like that.
I guess that's because they're normal.

 

Or not. . .

Christmas Shenanigans

You know what's really weird?

Me and my mom have quite different tastes.

Example: many, many moons ago, my uncle gave me the EXTENDED edition of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers for Christmas. I began to watch it as soon as I could, and my mom fell asleep on the couch next to me. She woke up during a scene with the Ents (which she now loves because they "help the short guys") and said, "What is that?"

I told her they were Ents.

Now, my mom has been in the medical field for a while, so she was probably like "ear nose and throat . . . ???"

She looked at the screen, looked at me, and back at the screen.

"I'm going back to sleep."

Now, that isn't to say we don't have anything in common, and this proves it. 

For Christmas I decided to get my mom two movies she liked when we were kids but hadn't seen in a long time, probably coinciding with the VHS to DVD transition. 

I bought her Mary Poppins and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

Now, just take a wild guess as to what was in my stocking . . . ?

Yep.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

Whoever said great minds think alike was right.

And here's my favorite part of Mary Poppins (because everyone loves this part, and if you don't, go get your head checked now before healthcare prices shoot up):

And from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, because I don't think it's nearly as popular as it should be:

Cuffing Season

"All I Want for Christmas is You" . . . "Blue Christmas" . . . "Last Christmas" . . . Honestly, what are these gals expecting? A man tied up in ribbons under the tree for them?

Unfortunately, no - they have to catch one themselves. 

Or at least, they feel they do.

I think that's pretty sad.

I know it'd be nice to have someone to dote on you, to take you places, and to just be with, but - as I see it - someone you just flirt with and pick up just because you don't want to be alone probably won't stick around for the long-haul and isn't that what we want in the end?

The way I see it, you'll be saved a lot of heartache if you just wait for the right guy. 

Waiting isn't easy, but then - I know it's cliche - but great things usually aren't easy. 

I know a few girls who insist they're trusting God for everything in their lives, but they chase after guys like there's no tomorrow. 

Every time I feel like I need a guy to make me happy, I just remember that He's far more than enough to make me truly happy.

God knows what He's doing, and that's something, because most days I don't know what I'm going to do.

Sometimes I would think about how it'd be nice just to have a guy to study with and spend free time with . . . but I realized that that's very selfish. Think about it: if you don't have the time or energy to invest in a relationship, it's cheating the other person. And if you only want them around for the perks, you probably wouldn't want to stay when things get tough, either. And what if they realize the only reason you wanted them around was for what they could do for you . . . can you imagine what that would feel like? 

Unfortunately, I do. Not from a guy, but friends. Or rather, 'friends'. And people I'm very close to have felt the same, and I promise you, that will not only affect you and your significant other, but also friends on both sides. It's not something to take lightly. 

Anyway, you don't need a guy or a girl in your life to be happy, especially during the Christmas and New Years seasons. It's a time to be with good friends and your family. That time doesn't last forever - enjoy it while you can . . . with no distractions!

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Cold Front?

Cold front?!

More like a "cold front, back, sides, and middle"!

It's freezing!

But yes, I'm counting my blessings: we're not dealing with what the Yankees are, and I'm grateful for that, and I'm praying for them, especially since we've got family up there.

But shoot . . . for the past five days, my weather app on my phone has been going crazy. 

Thursday it went ballistic in a class (even though it was on silent) and said we were getting a tropical cyclone. 

Well.

That was the driest cyclone I've ever seen in my life.

It said we have coastal flood advisories, rip tide statements, and whole load of utter "not here-ness". 

Oh well. 

At least now that it's almost winter it feels like fall . . .

My Spoiled Fish

I have this betta fish that I've posted about before.

Other than a near-death experience, he's pretty spoiled.

Like, really.

I went to Petsmart just looking around for a plant for his tank.

Just. Looking.

I come back with new pebbles, a Grecian temple, a cleaning cloth for the tank, and I ran out of fish food, so he got a fresh pack the same day.

He is so spoiled. 

God help my future children . . .

How my Mother Saved my Life

Yes, this is a true story.

I will say first off that unused appliances scare me. And by "unused", I mean unused by me. And if you're still not sure what I'm talking about, check out this guest post I did not too long ago; it explains everything.

Allow me to set the stage: I've been house sitting for the past two or three weeks - a weekish at one house, two days between and now at another house. 

The first house had a lovely kitchen with a stove very much like the one I use at home.

Easy to cook on?

The second house has a lovely kitchen . . . with a gas stove . . .

Um. . .

Easy to cook on?

Which means I didn't have a clue how to use it.

I'd turn the knob, and it'd click repeatedly, and all I could think of was the house blowing up, so I'd turn it off in a hurry.

I actually ended up cooking a frozen meal in the microwave (which I never do) because I had no clue how to use the oven.

Now, how my lovely mother factors into this.

We were chatting on Facebook, and she asked what I was planning on having for dinner.

I said I didn't know.

Somehow, the stove situation came up, and she's like "Oh, those are easy".

She coached me step-by-step through how to use it.

And it worked.

God bless the mothers who make sure their "independent" children are able to cook for themselves.

My (Mis)Adventure in the Realm of Cuisine

This summer, my mom, sister, and brother went on a mission trip to Ukraine.
That left me and my dad home alone.

Um, no, really, it wasn't exactly like that.

The two main issues were laundry - which I can do - and cooking, which I can also do.

Here's the problem with cooking, though:

I really like food.

Japanese food . . .

Mexican food . . .

American food . . .

Italian food . . .

You name it, chances are I might like it.

We had tacos some nights. Went fine.

We had stir-fry. Perfect.

We had spaghetti with alfredo dipping sauce like Olive Garden's . . . Um . . . PROBLEM.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize my error in its entirety until about . . . oh, I don't know, four days ago.

So, soon after they left, I started looking for recipes online.

That's dangerous, just sayin'.

I looked in my mom's bookmarks first, and I saw she had bookmarked Olive Garden's recipe for their alfredo sauce.

I was shocked.

Why had she never made this before; we love their alfredo sauce!

I decided to rectify this "wrong" and set out to make it.

My dad and I thought it turned out pretty good. It was, well, white, and Olive Garden's isn't, but I figured they probably used butter in the restaurant version, even though there was none called for in the recipe I saw.

It tasted almost exactly the same, though, so we just forgot about it.

A few days ago, we went to Olive Garden and me and my mom inspected the dipping sauce.

Then she asked me a question.

"Did you use egg whites or egg yolks?"

"Egg whites."

"Em . . . are you sure that's what you were supposed to use?"

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, I printed it out and was looking at it the whole time."

"That's just weird, because usually you use egg yolks in sauces."

We sorta forgot about that . . .

. . . Until a few days later.

My mom was looking for a recipe and chanced upon the alfredo sauce.

"Hey Sis?"

"Yeah?"

"Um . . . that alfredo sauce?"

"Uh-huh?"

"It calls for egg yolks . . ."

. . . Oops . . .

However!

This calls for a second shot!

On Being Home Alone

After a decade of being left at home for several hours at a time with no supervision save my own, I have discovered that the imagination begins to populate said enclosure of living with monsters, murderers, and other unpleasantries. This increases exponentially after the sun has set.
Here, I give some illustrations of the average human's ability to cope with / exist in denial of said horrors.

Being home alone during the day:

 

Being home alone at night:

STORY.

OF.

MY.

LIFE.