I laugh at my husband. Now you can, too!

My husband provides me with endless hours of entertainment, most of which I blame on the fact that he's an engineer, which makes him say ridiculous, sort of nerdy things.

So today, I thought I'd share some of the hilarity with you. I hope it makes you smile.

Exhibit A: I apparently know nothing about fruit flies...
We have a fruit fly problem. I don't know why.  It's not like I even go to the store often enough to have fresh fruit sitting around. Somewhere, I heard that you could put out a glass of apple cider vinegar to trap and kill the fruit flies. So I tried it. This was the result:

See how there are no flies actually IN the vinegar, but there's like a billion flies climbing around the outside of the glass drinking the vinegar like it's some kind of sweet nectar, which is apparently providing them with the strength and liveliness to breed like rabbits (or maybe the saying should be “to breed like fruit flies”) and take over my house?

Yeah, so not effective.

Which I mentioned to my husband. He walked over, took one look at the glass, and got a smirk on his face. He look at me and shook his head slightly as if to say, “You silly, girl. You don't know how to do anything, do you?”

Then he said, “Of course it's not working. It has to have a positive meniscus.”

A what now? The only time I'd heard that word was in reference to some cartilage inside someone's knee. And I sure as heck didn't know 1. Where I would find such a thing and 2. What the devil it had to do with fruit flies.

Turns out a “positive meniscus” means I have to *almost* overflow the glass so the vinegar sort of forms a bubble on the top, which traps the flies. I guess you learn something every day.

Exhibit B: I might need to rethink my technology...
When my husband and are both at work, we like to email back and forth – like instant messaging, but through email. 
 
Lately, I've been working on our semi-annual newsletter, and I brought it to the professional print shop to print this week. 
 
While I was at work, my husband called me, but I hung up on him cut the conversation short when I saw the representative from the print shop in the hallway. After I'd talked with him, I emailed my husband.

“Sorry…my printer stopped by and was standing outside of my door staring at me.” I said. 
 
He sent back, “That seems like odd behavior for a printer. Was it an HP?”

And that's why I married this man.

Blogger Idol debut! (And, vote for me, please?)

So, I don't want to bore all of you, my wonderful readers, over the next several weeks (hopefully twelve, if I make it to the final round) with this Blogger Idol thing.  But I do want to make sure you all have a chance to check out Blogger Idol and to read all the great stuff the talented contestants have written.

Here's my performance, entitled "What having ants in  your pants can tell you about yourself."  I hope you read it. And that you vote for me.  Pretty please?  With a cherry on top?  'Cuz without you guys, I don't stand a chance.

With that said, here's my promise: I'll keep the self-promoting on the blog to a minimum, and I'll continue to update with "regular" content for your enjoyment.

And if you get sick of me talking about Blogger Idol, you can just go ahead and skip posts with "Blogger Idol" in the title.  Pretend they don't exist.  Whatever makes you happy and keeps you coming back here, because when all this is said and done (and whether I win or lose), I still hope to be a blog you like to read.

My other promise: If I win, I will not to let all the glory and fame go to my head and become a total diva.  Maybe a little bit of a diva...but not a big one.  Also, in that case, my coattails are open for riding, no ticket required.  Though, I've already promised a spot to long-time reader, K.  So, I hope you don't mind sitting next to her. 

Thanks, peeps!

So, you think you're cooler than me?

Ever since Little Spaghetti discovered that crawling could take him places, it seems that just about everything in the world is more interesting than boring ol' mom. Now that he's walking: Forget about it!  Sure I'm still good for a little milk now and then, especially when he's feeling tired or bonks his head on something, but otherwise there's just too much else going on in his little life.  This new independence of his seems like it happened so quickly; I can't believe how big he's getting already.

There's a song on the radio lately that I find myself singing to Little Spaghetti as we go about our day-to-day business, and as I spend more of that time chasing him from room to room.

"Cooler Than Me" by Mike Posner

If I could write you a song and make you fall in love

I would already have you up under my arm.

I used up all of my tricks; I hope that you like this

But you probably won't; you think you're cooler than me.

You got designer shades just to hide your face and

You wear 'em around like you're cooler than me.

You never say "hey" or remember my name

And it's probably 'cuz you think you're cooler than me.

I have a strange feeling this may be the first of many times I say to my son, "So, you think you're cooler than me?"

I take small solace in the fact that he does - actually - sometimes remember my name.  And hearing him say "ma ma ma" is one of the sweetest sounds I've ever known.

Blog Bash Winner!

First, I want to say thank you to all who entered! I hope you'll stick around; I'd like to get to know you!

And...what you all want to know...the winner of the Spaghetti Westerner's first giveaway ever is:

#162
Mary

You are awesome, too, Mary!

Blogger Idol: Will you be in my "Vote For The Worst" club?

I wasted a lot of time this week totally stressing: watching seconds tick by on the clock, obsessively checking Twitter, breathing into a paper bag to calm myself down...ok, not that last one, but I thought about it a couple times.  What was I stressed over?

I auditioned for Blogger Idol 2011.  And then I had to wait. And wait. And wait. Until they announced the results today.  As I watched the awesome video they put together (check it out) my heart sank a little lower into my stomach as each name flashed up on the screen, but wasn't mine.  And then, at 2 minutes and 10 seconds into the video, I saw my name in lights.

I am so flattered to have been chosen as part of the top 12 (the judges are a group of awesome writers), and I am honored to be among the other amazing bloggers.

But now, my dear friends, I have to ask: Will you be part of my voting club?  I hope it's not really a "Vote For The Worst" club, but I'd rather have your support as the worst than be alone as the best.  The contest starts this week at Blogger Idol (don't forget to follow the blog there or follow @BloggerIdol on Twitter!)  I'd love it if you joined us, and I hope that you find my blogging worth voting for each week.  (Voting starts on Wednesdays and ends at 11:59 p.m. CST on Thursdays.)

And for those who are curious...here was my audition:

When I was eight, I wanted to be a best-selling author. That's my first memory of dreaming of doing something big.  Of making a splash. Of being somebody. 

After a big-name publisher rejected my first masterpiece, I decided to stick to my Lisa Frank diary, kept safely under plastic, purple, butterfly-shaped lock and key.

And so it went.  When I was eleven, I wanted to be an Olympic gymnast.  When I was in high school, I wanted to be a Broadway star. When I was in college, I wanted to be America's Next Top Model.

There was always something in the way, though: I was too young, too tall, too tone-deaf, too nervous. 

I went on with life.  I got a solid degree, followed by a respectable career.  Then, one day, I found myself staring into the eyes of the guy who makes me be my worst critic, but is also my greatest inspiration: my weeks-old son.  I felt a little bit like Derek Zoolander staring into a dingy puddle in the gutter asking my reflection, "Who am I?" (Though, my son is a little more beautiful than an oil-smeared, watery reflection of Ben Stiller).

The problem wasn't actually that I don't know who I am.  I am a wife, but I'd never cut it in Stepford.  I am a mother, but Carol Brady could teach me a thing or two.  I like to craft, but I don't hold a candle to Martha Stewart.  I find some good deals, but I'm no extreme couponer.  I'm a Do-It-Yourself designer and decorator, but Paige Davis would kick my butt in a design-off.  I enjoy cooking, but Paula Deen would be embarrassed by some of the things that come out of my kitchen.

The true problem was that I didn't know what to do with the fact that I'm a lot of things, but I'm not defined by any of them. In the end, what I have to offer is *me.* My genuine - if sometimes cynical - passion for my fairly unremarkable life instead of my singing and dancing.  And, so, I write.

On my blog, The Spaghetti Westerner, I like to look at life as entertainment with my loved ones as the characters.  Sometimes it's a sitcom, occasionally it's a drama, and there's no shortage of bad reality TV. I want to inspire and to commiserate, to support and to rely, to share and to learn.

Here's the cherry on top: I am so obscure a blogger that you don't even know who I am.

After all, isn't that what Idol is about? Taking someone that nobody's ever heard of who pours their heart and soul into what they do with a little bit of talent and a lot of charisma and introducing them to the world? 

It isn't about what I've already done, but what I'm going to do. That's why – even if you don't know it yet – I am your 2011 Blogger Idol.

Yours Truly,

Lisa aka Mama Spaghetti

Do you want $100 CASH?!?

I don't really do giveaways.  It's not that I have anything against them, and I enter them all over bloggyland, but between frying cheese and leaving love notes for my husband, I just don't seem to find the room for giveaways in my busy schedule. 

But when I heard about Blog Bash 2011, I decided to change my ways.  The great thing about Blog Bash is that there are more than 125 blogs participating, and each blog is hosting a giveaway worth at least $100.  It's like a big ol' party.  And if there's one thing I know, it's that I love me a great party.

So, I bring you the Spaghetti Westerner's very first giveaway ever! If it goes well, perhaps I'll do more...

Now, a lot of people got sponsors for their giveaways, and I'm sure you'll find some really great reviews of really great products from really great companies.  But you'll see none of that over here.

You see, I decided that what I really want is friends.  That's why I blog.   (I hope that doesn't make me sound desperate...) To find cool people and have a community.  So I'm offering $100 CASH to one of my bloggy friends.  Well, not really cash, but a VISA cash card, which is pretty much like cash (and way safer to send in the mail).

While it may *seem* a little bit like a bribe, I like to think of it as a gesture of kindness.  And really, who doesn't want to be friends with someone who's willing to give you a hundred bucks for no reason?

Entering is super easy...just follow my blog (on Google Friend Connect) and make sure you leave a comment (be sure to leave your email so I can reach you) and let me know that you are following (otherwise I'll have no way to actually pick a winner).  Already a follower?  I wouldn't leave you out!  Just leave a comment and say that you already follow me. 

That's it.  No extra entries.  No running around telling me what products you want.  Though, if you want to tell me which post of mine you think is most awesome, I'm not going to stop you.*

Check out the list of participants below.  Good luck, and I hope you win something cool!  And, most importantly, I hope you stop by again soon.

*There's no extra credit in the giveaway for telling me that I'm awesome.  Though I'll return the favor and make sure I pay you a super compliment!

To recap:

Mandatory entry: Follow on GFC and comment that you're a follower. Include your email so I can get in touch with you. 


This giveaway is now closed. Thanks for participating!

Open to US and Canadian residents. This giveaway will end on June 26, 2011 at 11:59 p.m.  PST. Winner will be chosen by Random.org, emailed, and announced on my blog shortly after giveaway ends. The winner has 72 hours to respond to my email or I reserve the right to declare a new winner.

How to get things done, or the Costco follow-up...

I wrote recently about the ugly scene I unintentionally caused at Costco.  I was so upset about it that I kept finding myself sitting and stewing about it.  So I wrote a letter to my local Costco.

I tried not to complain (too much) about what had happened; I really just wanted to bring light to the fact that the seating situation was causing problems.  I'd struggled with it, and I'd seen others with strollers or wheelchairs having similar issues.

I mostly just wanted to get it off my chest and let it go.  Let's call it healing.

But then, a miraculous thing happened.  I got a phone call from the manager of the local warehouse.  He was truly sympathetic (has twins himself, and we swapped stories about how hard it is to get around in lots of stores with strollers and kid gear) and apologetic. 

I shared my few suggestions with him (wider aisles, move some of the trash cans from the ends of the aisles where people could sit with strollers), and he acknowledged them and thanked me. I figured that was the end of it: He'd done his duty to make me feel heard and hopefully smooth things over so I didn't abandon my bulk-buying ways.

Then, a couple days later, I went into the Costco.  And I was SHOCKED.  They had totally rearranged the food court.  They'd gotten rid of some tables to widen the aisles.  They'd moved trash cans.  They'd cleared out an area across from the tables for people to park their carts.  It made a huge difference.

I bought a slice of cheese pizza just to try it out.  And there was plenty of room.  Best of all, nobody yelled at me.

It turns out that the manager had been truly concerned with doing what he could to correct the situation.  He wasn't just aiming to please me; he actually wanted to make the store a better place. And you know what?  It felt good.

Usually I'm completely non-confrontational.  I'm a people-pleaser to the core.  I don't complain, and I don't write letters.  If this hadn't involved my son and my job as his mother, I don't think I would have had the guts to do it.  But I've never been happier to step outside of my comfort zone.  It may not be life-altering, and it's almost certainly not the answer for world peace, but I do feel - in some small way - that I've made the world a better place.

If this is the person motherhood is making me, I'll take it!

Whoa! New Blog! Check it out...

Well, folks, I promised you a redesign, and a redesign you got!  I'd put together my first blog design pretty quickly and without much thought.  So after lots of hand-wringing and mind-changing, I finally settled on my new look.  And here it is!  I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, but I hope you like it.

And a big thank you to my pal, Mary, at I Need a Playdate for her help and encouragement with all this.

So, how'd I decide on the new look?  I'm glad you asked.  Here's the story behind the Spaghetti Westerner (which will live in that handy tab at the top called "What's a Spaghetti Westerner" in case you ever find yourself in need of this explanation).

When I decided to start a blog, I had a heck of a time coming up with a name.  My husband suggested the Spaghetti Westerner, and it seemed to fit. 

As I kept blogging, I thought more and more about this name and its (lack of) relation to my namesake: Spaghetti Western films.  I'll be honest: I didn't actually know much about Spaghetti Westerns when I started blogging.  So I turned to my old friend, Google.

Turns out, I have more in common with Spaghetti Western films that I first thought.  Let me show you:

1. A "Spaghetti Westerner" is described as a low-budget movie produced by a European (especially an Italian) film company about life in the western United States during the period of exploration and development.
   
   My life is a low-budget endeavor produced by a self-professed Italian (American) that takes place in the western United States (Nevada).  You could say that my blog captures the essence of my exploration and development as a human being.
   
2. Also, the tagline for one of the best-known Spaghetti Westerns, A Fistful of Dollars, is "In his own way he is, perhaps, the most dangerous man who ever lived!"
   
   Though in my case, it's more like "In her own way she is, perhaps, the most delirious woman who ever lived!"
   
   
3. Clint Eastwood's character in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly is The Man with No Name.
   
   My character might be called something to the effect of The Woman with No Shame.
   
   
4. I think I even look a little bit like Clint Eastwood...(refer back to comment about the most delirious woman who ever lived).

You see?  Tons of similarities.  And so, I embraced my roots as the Spaghetti Westerner. 

I may be more of a devoted, long-winded, sarcastic, whisk-wielding housewife than a rogue, mysterious, stoic, gun-slinging cowboy, but I hope you won't hold that against me.

Clint Eastwood photo via.

I finally understand all that ice cream and tv I got when I was sick

Growing up, getting sick was like being upgraded to royalty.  I had people waiting on me hand and foot.  I got to watch as much tv as I wanted. It was perfectly acceptable to claim that they only thing that sounded good to eat was ice cream and cookies.

And I always just thought it was because my parents wanted me to feel better.  Now that I have a child of my own, though, I realize I was sorely mistaken.  I now believe that the do-what-you-want-just-don't-complain attitude was a defense mechanism left over from years of having dealt with sick kids.

You know what I'm talking about: the super clingy, super fussy toddler that drains the very life out of your soul each day a cold lingers on.  The screaming every time you try to wipe their boogers.  The rejection of every. single. food you put in front of them.  The sleepless nights that make every minute of the following day feel like hours.

Have you figured out yet that Little Spaghetti's been sick?

I was at the end of my rope trying to diffuse the whining, trying to make him comfortable, trying to distract him from the misery that is his sinus congestion.  Then, he started playing with his cup of water and the banana I was trying to feed him. All the sudden, he was content. There was no screaming.  There was no sniffling.  There was no pleading.

I sat there while he shoved his banana peel into the water glass, and it was like something inside of me broke.  I couldn't bring myself to stop him from making the gigantic mess I knew he was about to make because even cleaning up would be easier than fighting with a sick baby.

It dawned on me that after years of dealing with sick kids, of course it was easier for my parents to just let us do whatever would keep us happy.   Just to survive until we were well again.

And so I let him make a mess with his water and his banana.  I didn't even mind that he splashed the water all over my lap so it *almost* looked (and felt) like I'd peed my pants.

Until I made the mistake of checking back into my life and looking at the disgusting banana cocktail my little boy had whipped up.

The sight of the gray, gooey water coupled with the smell of the slightly overripe banana was too much.  And for the second time in my motherhood, I gagged.  I'm not usually a gagger.

And so my training has begun.  But I'm a quick study.  Next time Little Spaghetti gets that tell-tale cough and his nose starts to drip, ice cream and tv it is!

It's a social parade: Follow on Friday

Every now and then I try out a blog hop.  I'm still figuring out which ones I like, and today I'm joining up with the Social Parade: Follow on Friday. So welcome, fellow hoppers!

I love finding new blogs to follow, and who doesn't love getting some new followers?  Here's a little more about me if you'd like to get to know me better.  I hope you stick around!

If you leave a comment and let me know you're following, I will be sure to follow you back, too!

The never-ending cliffhanger...That's my blog

I have this bad habit of bringing up subjects and then never mentioning them again.  Sometimes, I even promise an update and then leave you hanging...for months.

But you're in luck!  I bring you: Updates About Things You Didn't Know You Cared About!

First off, night-weaning.  Do you remember when that started?  I sure do...'cuz it was my birthday.

How's that going?  I'm glad you asked!  It's going...decently.  It was going great for a couple weeks.  Then Little Spaghetti got sick, and I got lazy felt bad for him, so I let him nurse in the night.  Big mistake! He was worse than ever.  So I got back to it, and within a couple days we pretty much had it licked.  I'm happy to report that I am no longer nursing my one-year-old like a newborn!

Don't get me started on the sleeping, though.  The chronicles continue...

Next up: My husband's inability to put dishes in the sink.  Or the dishwasher.  I know you're DYING to know if my lovely note worked.  The answer is yes...for the most part.  There are still bad days, but for the most part, he now gets the dishes at least into the sink. 

It wasn't going that well until one day when one of "the guys" was coming over to help him do some work in the yard.  He made me put the note away so as not to embarrass him, and I think it was the guilt that did him in.  After that, he was much better about it.

The note's still tucked in a drawer in the kitchen, just in case I start to see dishes pile up on the counter.  But we've had an unexpected turn of events...and I, apparently, should have made the note apply more broadly than just the dishes.  Because now we have a problem with other things on the counter.  Like my husband's dirty socks.

And finally, there was this time six months ago when I promised to show you the fruits of my renovating labors when I started painting our sunroom.  I wish I could say that I just forgot to do post about it, but the truth is that it took me all six months to finally be done painting and redecorating the room.  But, here are the results.

We went from this:

To this:

 And here are some more pictures of the room, just because I love it so much!

We use the cool hutch as our bar: To store all our booze!

I LOVE having my morning tea at this table.

 I've got a thing for birdcages lately.

I reupholstered this chair all by myself.  Not to shabby for an amateur.

I've got a couple herb gardens in the windows.

The color - soothing green tea - was feeling a little bold as we put it up on the walls, but now that all the furniture is in, I can't imagine a better color.  Seriously, one of my favorite rooms in the house!

And, for the sake of full disclosure, here's the pile of crap I had to move out of that room to photograph it.  I wish it looked more like a room in a decorating magazine all the time...

I'm a people pleaser. Sometimes it sucks.

I like to please people.  That's like...my thing.  I loathe unpleasant situations.  I hate confrontations.  And I absolutely never want to be the reason that someone is uncomfortable.  It's a personality flaw, for sure, though I'm almost 100 percent positive that the only person who minds is me.

When my husband asks what movie  I want to see, my response is always, "I don't care, what do you want to watch?"  When in reality, what I want to say is, "I want to see Eat, Pray, Love, but when you get bored halfway through and start whining about what a girly movie is, my guilt over having ruined your Saturday night will eat away at me to the point where I won't even enjoy the movie."  So, Transformers it is!

When my in-laws ask me what I want to eat, I almost always say, "Oh, whatever you feel like eating is fine with me," instead of, "Well, I'm really in the mood for a good Chimichanga, but if we end up at a restaurant with a bad batch of guacamole and everyone spends the rest of the weekend with food poisoning, I will pretty much want to die."So, leftovers it is...again.

This people-pleasing has not served me well.

When I was 11, I had my first round of braces taken off my teeth.  I am also unfortunate to have no enamel on my two front teeth (my parents blame too many antibiotics when I was a kid).  So when they popped the braces glue off, they also pulled off the fake-y enamel stuff they paint on my teeth so that the roots aren't exposed.   But the tech didn't know about this sad lack of enamel, and she thought the brown color on my teeth was because I hadn't kept up with my brushing and flossing routine instead of just the fact that it was the inside of my teeth.  So she ground on it with her little polisher thing for what felt like HOURS trying to get the "stain" off.  And I sat there, not saying anything because...I didn't want to make her feel bad that she was causing me inordinate amounts of pain.

In retrospect, that was insane.

Another case in point: during college, I dated a guy for several months because he'd written me a poem and bought me an expensive necklace.  I was really not interested in him, but he was VERY nice to me.  So I dated him because...I didn't want to hurt his feelings or seem ungrateful.

In retrospect, that was also insane.

So why am I telling you about this now?

This week, I had my house cleaned by a house cleaner (a very thoughtful and awesome birthday present from my mom).  When I got home, I found out that house cleaners had broken the plate that goes on the little spinny-around thing in the microwave. (Those things are hella expensive to replace! I had no idea...)  And they also broke the cup we keep in the bathroom.  But you know what I did? I tipped them.  I actually tipped them EXTRA because...I felt so bad that they felt bad about breaking my stuff.

Once again, insane.

The moral of this story?  Being a people-pleaser makes me insane.  Though, it still beats hurting people's feelings.

Raise your hand if you think I'm selfish and just need to use my head

Ok, please don't actually raise your hand because I'll feel really bad about myself.

But if you wanted to raise your hand (which I hope you didn't), you might be happy to know you're not alone.

I'm not even going to get into the details because it makes my blood boil.  And it would take me like four hours to type the story of what happened in just a few minutes, and I'm sure you don't want to read a post that long.

But the Reader's Digest version is that I was yelled at publicly by not one, but two middle aged men in Costco for the fact that my son's stroller was blocking the insanely narrow aisle between the tables at the food court.   Which makes me the worst mother ever.  And the worst human being ever.  Apparently.

I'm talking about grown men shouting at me from three rows away.  Loudly. 

Now, I was blocking the aisle.  But in my defense, there was nowhere else for us to sit.  There were carts and other diners blocking the wide spaces at the ends of the rows where we would usually have sat.  There were also plenty of other aisles that people could use to get in and out of the rows, so it wasn't like I was blockign the ENTIRE food court.  And the tables are laid out really poorly.  This isn't the first time I've had trouble finding seating at this particular food court. 

I wasn't trying to be selfish.  Or stupid.  Or rude.  Or presumptuous.  Or any of the other horrible things these men yelled at me while I was just trying to sit for five minutes and feed my son some cheese pizza.  It was so totally unnecessary for them to call me out on it.  Of all the battles in the world to fight, why harass some woman and her baby in the food court, you know?

I'd wondered about my Costco pizza eating habits before, but maybe this was the universe's way of telling me I really shouldn't be eating cheese pizza at the Costco food court!

Mommy Fail turned Mommy Win! Plus a secret, just for you.

It's no secret that I'm bad at housekeeping.  I use my drying rack as a second closet.  I use my stove as a cabinet.  I retile my kitchen with a busy-patterned tile so that you can't see the dirt and food and spills. 

Alright, alright! Enough with the details of what a bad housekeeper I am...I'm starting to feel like a slacker!

Anyway, one of my particularly bad domestic habits is not putting away the laundry.  I've even been known to leave it for days on end in the dryer. 

Usually I feel bad about that, but tonight it was one of the best decisions I've made in days!

You see, my husband and I have this new routine where he goes to bed with the baby, and I get to stay up late and blog do my chores and run my household.  Then he gets up early in the morning and does p90x while I sleep.  (Are you catching on to who the lazy one in my house is?)

So, most nights before they get into bed, I rush around in the bedroom gathering up all my supplies and stashing them away for the winter like a squirrel.  But some nights (like tonight) I don't get in there in time, and then I have to make the ever-difficult decision about whether or not to risk waking my sleeping baby by creeping into the room to get something.  Usually the answer is not.

But tonight, as I was sitting down to read my favorite blogs, I was kicking myself for having to sit on the couch in my work clothes instead of my comfy pajama pants and fuzzy socks.

Then I remembered that the laundry was still in the dryer!  And wouldn't you know it?  I'd just done a load of darks.  Comfy pajama pants, fuzzy socks, and all.

And while I'm here in my most comfortable pants, blogging all by myself, feeling a little bit like a kid at a sleepover (minus a dozen thirteen year old girls playing Light As A Feather, Stiff As A Board) and just because I like you: I'll share this deep, dark secret with you.  Late at night, when I'm in my most comfortable pants, blogging all by myself, I fry cheese.

That's right.  I put it in a pan and fry it up.  I don't add anything or do anything to it.  Just fry it.  Sure, it may not be Heart Smart Diet-approved, but I figure it's no worse than eating a string cheese for a snack.  And I'd do that.

Usually I use parmesan because it cooks up into delicious little crispy wafers of pure heaven, but sometimes - like tonight - I run out of parmesan and try out other kinds of cheese.  Note to self: the cheddar produced less than stellar results.

That's all the madness I've got for you right now!  I hope you'll come back to my sleepover another day...

Because I have nothing better to do...

My brain is all over the place this week.  So, instead of trying to rein myself in and put together a cohesive post about something, I'm just gonna go ahead and let it all out.  I was going to call it "Random Thoughts Thursday," but that seemed too structured.  And like something I should do more than once.  Heaven knows I can't have random thoughts every Thursday!
So, here's what's been going on lately.

Do you notice something wrong with this picture?  The Outdoor AdVANture?  Is that like where we all pile into a dirty old VW van and head out into the woods?  Maybe this fairly mainstream clothing brand sold at big box stores everywhere needs a spell-checker.  Or a proofreader.

But, of course I bought it.  How could I not?  My kid will grow out of it before there's any permanent damage done to his spelling abilities.  I hope...

And then there's this:

And this:

Someone has been painting pictures of Angry Birds around town.  I happen to work in the same building that houses our City Hall, and it seems the birds are causing quite a stir.  Sadly, I don't think most people actually understand the meaning behind the birds.

Thankfully, I am an Angry Birds addict (like my girl over at INeedAPlaydate) and thoroughly appreciate seeing the little fellas around.  It kind of makes me want to drive around to see if I can find the rest of them.  If only life gave out three stars for that kind of effort...

And I'm in the middle of redesigning my blog.  I've said this before, but I'm serious this time.  I want it to be more...something.  See the problem I'm having? I can't even tell you what's missing.  How the blazes am I supposed to fix it.  Oh well, I'll give it a try and hope for the best. More on this to come, I'm sure.

Finally, I'm trying out a blog hop.  I haven't gotten into blog hopping, but it comes highly recommended by some bloggers I've come to really like, so why not give it a try?  So, if you're here from the Thirsty Thursday Blog Hop: Welcome! I hope you'll stick around.  I'm always looking for new friends and new blogs to read.

If you want to get to know more about me, here are a couple posts that will give you a taste of what I'm about (here, here, and here).  Hope you like them.