Will it pass? Will it pass? Will it pass?

All this talk about Congress and Bailout Bill has got me thinking about kidney stones. Do you think there is a correlation? Like, painful, but necessary to pass? Or, somebody better get in there and lazer blast that thing in order to defeat the stones before the man dies trying to pass them? The man being man in general. Main Street Man, not Wall Street Man. What do you think? Bailout Bill - Pass or Blast? I am undecided and I don't get a vote. Neither do you. Except on my blog.

A newbie hangin' with the cool blogging crowd

I have been tagged, by a favorite blogger and friend, Pam. It is pretty exciting for a newbie blogger like me to get included in the cool blogging crowd.

Here goes! 7 random or wierd facts about me.

1. I am a hair twirler. I have tried to stop, but I just haven't been able to. It is not nervousness, it is just that my curly hair (it is very curly!) winds perfectly around my finger and will flip back and forth from one finger to another. I am not trying to flirt or be coy, I am just wierd. So when you see me with my long hair down you will probably notice that there are two curls at the nape of my neck on either side that are perfect corkscrews. It is not because they grow that way. Maybe my screen name should be Noodlehead.

2. I had a perm once. I know, you just read about my naturally, very curly hair. My sister was in Beauty School and I wanted to look like Barbara Streisand in the Main Event. I didn't. Perming curly hair is not a good idea. Didn't talk to my sister for two weeks. Enough said.

Why, oh why, did I want this hair in the first place? I know, I am the one who posted enough said just moments ago, but I just couldn't go without saying it. There are some things that even being a child of the '80's is not enough of an excuse for.

3. I am a Boggle addict. I play often. I love unscrambling the letters and coming up with words. I have it on my computer and sometimes get caught up and waste large amounts of time. I hate Scrabble. My sisters and my mom always win and they laugh at me, too. I'll play Scrabble with my husband though. We are about even so it is a fair competition. Nobody wants to play Boggle with me.

4. Speaking of my guy, I am deeply in love with my husband. He is so very patient and kind with all my eccentricities, and I tend to be a little bit of a goofball. He is an incredible father and a great gift giver. Often, I am not initially happy with what he gives me. Mostly because he spends more than I have budgeted. Once he gave me a storm door for mother's day. A storm door? you ask. Yeah, that is what I thought too, until I could leave front door open to see the kids playing outside, get fresh air and more light in the room. He knows I love lots of natural sunlight. (I grew up in So Cal, and you can take the girl out of the valley, but you can't take the valley out of the girl! It is, like, so totallay true, okay.) It always ends up that what he gives me is what I really wanted and just didn't know it. He knows me better than I know myself.

5. Our marriage had an interesting start. Our wedding day didn't go exactly as planned. The story is too long and I will save it for blogging on my anniversary, but here is just a taste. The car broke down, I passed out, the caterer didn't show, we went on a double date that night with two men to see a play about homosexuality, got lost on the way to the hotel, when, of course, the car broke down again, a stranger gave us a ride to our hotel only to find out they had given our room away. Some people might have taken this as some kind of omen, but really, we are tremendously happily married.

6. I once ate green tomato pie. It tasted like apple, except the texture was different. I am not a very adventurous eater, so I had to keep mentally picturing an apple and saying to myself, yummy, yummy apple. But then my mental apple morphed into a tomato and I started to gag.

7. I like to cook and try new recipes (not exotic ones! See 6.). Hence, the name Cookingsherri. But when the fire alarm in our house goes off, my kids ask me what I am making for dinner. That thing is oversensitive, I'm telling you. My sister who is an awesome cook, is kitchenditcher. Funny, huh?

Unfortunate misuse of the CTR ring...

I hate the game of slug bug. You know the one where if you see the VW Bug first you get to punch someone in the arm and yell "slug bug, no slugs back". I hate that game so much (I am a black belt, but my kick is stronger than my punch) that I was thrilled when some CA cousins who shall remain nameless introduced us to Cruiser Bruisers. Same game, different car. Thanks. I had a friend who came up with hug bug instead, which I preferred, and it was working for our family, until Thing 1 became a teenager. It was irresistable to find a new wrestling avenue with Dad. It was irresistable to find out if he could punch hard enough to hurt Dad. Dad will not admit it to you, but he has admitted to me, Thing 1's punches are beginning to hurt. I let it go and chalked it up to a guy thing. As long as I am not involved, whatever.

Dad got home from work early, had the evening free, and so we decided to go on a family walk in beautiful fall weather. We even brought the dog, and the football. Cool, huh? Till thing one saw the P.T. Cruiser. Punched Dad in the back. I am not involved, whatever. Then I turn around to see Thing 2, my little girl, punch Thing 1 right in the chin!?!?!?! What are you doing? I missed? Missed what? His shoulder. By a long shot! In her defence Thing 1 is growing at an alarming rate. At the beginning of summer he had just barely become as tall as me. School has started. He is at least two inches taller than me. He is growing about 3/4" a month. So I thought, maybe it is hard to aim up. Maybe, she hit his arm and then it grazed off and accidentally hit his chin. Thing 1 states clearly that this was not the case.

Okay, Thing 2, my little girl, let me just give you some motherly wisdom. Dad and Thing 1 look like they are having fun playing this game. I can see how you think you might want to join in. Resist the urge. They are hurting each other. And laughing about it. This is a stupid game that boys play. Be smart. Do not play this game with them. If you do, you are opening yourself up and you will get nailed. 100 % dissatisfaction guaranteed.

Thing one is not satisfied with this lecture. He says it really hurt when Thing 2 popped him in the chin. Plus, you are supposed to hit in the arm. Yup, and she missed, and you hit Dad in the back and this game is stupid and if you don't want to get hurt don't play it. But it really hurt. Yeah, that is the nature of the stupid game. Buck up. You are big now. There is hair on your upper lip. She is a little girl. How bad could it be? Pretty bad. After mentioning his hairy upper lip, I now noticed the lip underneath it. It is bleeding. Not bad, but there are cuts on his chin. Oh my goodness!?!?! Didn't I start out on a Norman Rockwell painting like family walk? And it ends in bloodshed? Apparently it was her CTR that was the culprit. It stands for Choose the Right. I don't think that is how you are supposed to use those. I hope nobody in the neighborhood was watching. They might nominate us for a parenting award with the county's child protective services.

The bumper on my car is fixed. But the catalytic converter on the driver's side is not. And something is wrong with the steering wheel, and the passenger side mirror isn't doing the night dimming thing right anymore, and winter is coming and the back heater isn't working. So my car is in the shop. It has been there since Monday night. And it won't be done until Friday. That is the bad news. But, it is all under warranty and my warranty covers everything including a rental car. That is the good news. Until I see the rental car.

It is a P.T. Cruiser. The good news is now a little bit concerning for my family's welfare. I have got to get my car back before somebody in my family ends up looking like this:


"Cruiser Bruiser, no bruises back!"

Subway sandwich made me cry once

Do you remember the first time someone asked for the last four digits of your social security number? If you are like me you did not just blurt it out immediately, you had to go through the whole thing. 449-60-2978. That's not my real SS#. I made that one up. Don't bother trying to steal my identity. Do you know how they come up with that number? The first three are area numbers. It depends on where you got your SS card. The next two numbers are group numbers. They are kind of random and just break things up. The last four are serial numbers. They just start at one and keep going. At least that is what I just read on wikipedia. My point is, it probably took you several times of being asked for the last four digits of you social security number to be able to just blurt it out without having to go through the whole thing.

Which brings me to Subway. I have a problem with the way they have things set up. I went in on a lovely day to pick up lunch for me and some friends. I was in a great mood. This particular Subway was a bit busy that day. I moved on down the line and when it was my turn I gave my order. One footlong turkey and bacon with extra mayo and everything, one 6" teriyaki chicken warm with dressing, lettuce, cucumber, green pepper, tomato, a 6" ham and cheese with everything but hot peppers. What kind of bread? Bread? Ah, white. He cuts and shoves it down to the next person. She asks me what kind of meat. Ah, Turkey and bacon. While she slaps that on, guy number one repeats what kind of bread? White, all of them white. He cuts and shoves. Meanwhile, girl two has the new white bread and asks what kind of meat. Um, the first was turkey and bacon the second is teriyaki chicken. Which one is this? Two. So far so good. Then guy three, who is now holding sandwich one asks what do you want on the turkey and bacon. Everything. Not bad. I am doing okay. Lady number two now has the bread for sandwich number three. What kind of meat? Okay so one was turkey and bacon, two was teriyaki chicken..... She interrupts me because quite a line is now forming behind me. I just need to know what you want on this one. But I am just not ready to blurt out, 2978. That is not how I rehearsed it in my head so that I would not forget. I rehearsed, One footlong turkey and bacon with extra mayo and everything, one 6" teriyaki chickien warm with dressing, lettuce, cucumber, green pepper, tomato, a 6" ham and cheese with everything but hot peppers. Nonetheless, I now silently run through the order in my head until I get to the part she wants and blurt out, ham. Guy three is now interested in what to put on sandwich two. Girl two wants to know what kind of cheese. American, or white whichever is easiest. But now, I have just remembered that sandwich one is supposed to have extra mayo. And he has already wrapped that one. I tell him anyway. Guy four steps in. He is the cash register guy. He hastily unwraps and mayo's sandwich one. Mr. Three is still asking about sandwich two. I have learned, I am silently going through my list 'til I get to his part, when lady two asks what do you want on the ham. I hold up a finger to silently tell her just a minute and blurt out guy three's necessary info, and then turn to girl three to ask what info she needs when guy four at the cash register is interested in what kind of sandwiches I am getting so he can ring it up before it is made. I don't even know what sandwich girl two is working on, and she is really agitated. Guy one has cut another piece of 6" white bread and wants to know what kind of meat I want. I am confused after giving the whole order to cash register guy and tell him ham and cheese. Girl two wants to know what veggies. Everything but hot peppers. Anyway, I ended up with four sandwiches instead of three, I wasn't sure what was in any of them, the staff was irritated with me, the line was piling up, and I was willing to buy the mystery sandwich just to get out of there.

Why can't they have an order sheet that moves along with the sandwich so you don't have four people asking you what to put on the sandwich all at the same time? It is just not nice. No other sandwich places do it that way and with good reason. I love their sandwiches, but that system is just enough to drive me crazy.

When you are feeling stupid, just say to yourself, "There are other things that I am good at, this just isn't one of them." I am not a great multi-tasker. I am easily distracted. And my memory is not so good. If you want a sandwich from Subway, you are going to have to get it yourself. I am not going to order for you. It was embarrassing wiping that tear from my face in front the cashier guy.

Would you like to share some of your own humorous shortcomings? I wish you would. It would make all us schlepps out here feel so much better to read about it. I wish this is the only embarrassing moment I have to share, but there are so many more available I will have to save them for future blogging days so as not to overwhelm you all.