Nowadays, home decor is all about the signs. Signs with pithy inspirational quotes. Signs with family names on them. Signs expressing the homeowner’s faith. I think oftentimes signs as home decor are overdone. It seems to me that the more signs one has on their walls, the less meaning they have. So I keep mine to a minimum for that reason.
This one is probably my favorite:
A foray into Google images for signs led me to some more amusing and in some cases, disturbing signs.
Like this one:
So many questions here….walruses can jump? And exactly how does one determine the sexual orientation of a walrus? And what does the walrus’s sexual orientation have to do with the fact that it might jump up and drag you under the water to be feasted on by a gaggle of hangry walruses?
Um, no thanks Hardee’s.
This is the sign that I will hang in our future cabin. I find it to be quite motivational.
This would make me shake in my boots for sure (not)…but I’m also super curious about what is behind this door. I doubt I’d be able to resist the temptation to exit through that particular door.
TMI dudes…and you should really get that checked out!
Apparently, beans and cabbage are on the menu in this joint.
Good advice, peeps!
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
Let’s hope to God that this isn’t the only dentist in town.
I took a picture of this sign on a trip with Hubs to Florida, because I thought it was hilariously awesome. I’d really like to know how one qualifies a a “fancy woman”. And exactly who decides who is a “fancy woman” anyhow? Cap’n Crunch?!
I really dig party games. Ice breakers. Those little games played amongst a group of willing participants which often yields surprising revelations about each other. Some of you may recall a previous post I penned related to this.
Years ago, when Hubs and I would go on our annual camping trip with a group of about 12 friends, our beer-infused revelry often led to a rollicking game of “I never”. This is a simple game, which is a good thing when you are amidst friends from “back in the day” and alcohol is involved. Have you ever played this game? If not, it starts with one person proclaiming something that they have never ever done in their whole life. Then those who have done said thing are required to take a sip of whatever they are currently imbibing.
Suffice it to say, within a very short period of time, things could get very silly.
Today I’d like to present to you, my fun loving readers, with my version of a similarly simple yet playful game.
Responding in the comments with your very own 2 Truths and 1 lie or whatever sarcastic anecdote you wish to share is not mandatory but would make it so much more fun for us all, amiright?
Without any further ado, I present Two Truths and One Lie.
Being John Malkovich is one of my favorite movies.
I seriously loved the latest Mad Max movie.
Christmas vacation cracks me up every time I watch it.
I think I’d be an excellent music producer.
My ultimate goal is to write a fiction novel.
I would consider going to culinary school to become a chef.
I’m still married to Hubs because:
He knows his way around a grill.
He has the best one liners.
Unlike me, he’s not at all picky about what movies he will watch.
Random stuff I used to believe:
That New England was a state.
That I was going to become a high school English teacher.
That I would always live in Minnesota.
Wacky things I have done in my life:
I once won a radio contest where I had to sing part of a line of the song “Tush”. I won a free sub sandwich. Yay me!
Once when I was in college, I successfully convinced a guy I was flirting with at a bar that I was from England.
One of my friends at Girl Scout camp chose to not heed our scout leader’s plea to not bring candy because bears, duh. Upon being tattled on, the scout leader led us to the fire pit where my friend’s cherished bag of candy was set ablaze. Oh, the humiliation!
I am deathly afraid of heights.
I am freaked out by clowns.
I sometimes fear my blog has already peaked.
Speaking about blogging:
The first title I came up with for this blog was “Subject to Change”
I have a buttload of technical stuff to learn.
I’m not scared to post about things that could make me appear to be a doofus.
Things I wish I could do successfully:
Ride a bike.
Plan great parties.
Scroll Down to see the answers!
Movies: I hated the most recent Mad Max movie. It was beyond weird, ridiculously violent, and utterly pointless. I only went because Hubs wanted to see it. More on me+Hubs+movies later.
Careers: I cannot imagine myself ever having the talent not to mention gumption to write a fiction novel. Non-fiction, with a twist of imagination suits me best.
Why I am still married to Hubs: It’s not because he and I share the same taste in movies. He will only see action movies and sometimes thrillers in the actual movie theater with me. Whereas, if I had my way, we’d go to see anything from rom-coms to westerns every weekend.
Things I used to believe: That I would always live in Minnesota. I have always pictured myself living in more varied parts of the country. When I was younger, it was New York City or California. And Hubs and I have moved quite a bit over the years, due to his job transfers: we’ve lived in Wisconsin, Kansas, and now Colorado.
Wacky stuff I have done: I was the girl who brought the candy to Girl Scout camp. I didn’t get my childhhod nickname of “Candy Queen” for nothing! This was one of my first experiences with true, deep shame. And our cranky scout leader scared the bejeezus out of me!
Fears: I actually do not fear clowns. In fact, I used to have quite a collection of them displayed in my bedroom. That said, you will not see me at a screening of the movie “It”. I’m not into creepy, scary movies like that.
Speaking of blogging: I am frequently in fear that my blog posts will make me look doofusy. Yet, my passion for it always supercedes this fear.
Things I wish I could do successfully: Plan great parties. Because I already possess that talent. Examples: two high school graduation parties one year apart with plenty of (mostly) homemade food, beverages, and festive decorations. That supercool party I put on when I was 16 where everyone had to dress up as their favorite pop star. I went as Moon Unit Zappa aka “Valley Girl”. It was so RAD!
Call me crazy, but I believe in the power of a good mantra. When you have one (or two or 16) that you connect with, not just in your mind, but in your heart and soul, you have an ability to focus on what’s most important to you.
This is my most used and helpful mantra. What I think is especially fabulous about it is just how ridiculously adaptable it is.
Many of you already are aware of the translation of this acronym as “Keep It Simple Stupid”. That was how I glommed onto it initially. You see, I have a fantastic ability to overthink everything in my life-from what I should have said to so and so, to what I should wear to church on Sunday, to what kind of part time job I should seek. Geez, if only overthinking was a skill I could get paid for. I wonder how much I could get an hour for that? Perhaps it’d be a salaried position? Maybe I could get paid extra for not taking health insurance as I can stay on Hubs plan? Okay, there I go again. That was not useful. Deep breath….ahhhh…KISS…..
Okay, I’m good.
Other ways I use the mantra KISS:
Note: I have determined that I will refer to the last “S” in KISS as “stupid” very sparingly. Because I think it’s important to be kind to oneself.
Keep it silly, sister. Because I firmly adhere to the notion that in order to have a successful, meaningful, and happy life, one should not take anything too seriously. Or anyone, for that matter.
Keep it specific, sister. This one came to me while I was using my wicked crafting skills creative energy to put together my very first vision board. I firmly believe that having a physical picture of what you want in your life increases the chances of it becoming reality. For instance, instead of affixing a picture of, say, a wine bottle or grapes to my vision board, I affixed a picture of Napa Valley because that is a place I very much wish to visit with Hubs, asap. Seeing it every day will keep it fresh in my mind, which is good because, I am 50.
Keep it sincere, sister. Bottom line-I’m just going to be me. I will continue to write (and live) with my heart in the right place. Which happens to be on my sleeve.
Keep it succinct, stupid. Yes, I know this sounds super boring. But not nearly as boring as it would be for you, dear patient readers (or anyone I am conversing with in real life),for me to ramble on, stream-of-consciousness style, taking my sweet, pokey time in getting to the damn point. It’s the opposite of verbose. An adjective that has been used to describe me (and sometimes, unfortunately, my writing) which I truly abhore.
Keep it smart, sister. This is possibly the most challenging use of this acronym for me. Because all my life I’ve struggled with feeling that I’m just not that smart. Thankfully, the successes I’ve had in this life along with the people I love who love me back, have helped me to no longer be hyper-focused on it. Keeping it smart, sister, is important to my writing. I believe that if I’m going to put my opinion out there for the world to see, especially if it’s about current events, I need to know what I’m talking about. That’s why I spend time doing some research if I’m not fully confident that the opinion I’m preparing to put out there is based on facts.
Disclaimer!!! I have not been diagnosed with multiple personality disorder (yet anyway). However, my alter ego, Pollyanna, has a variety of personas. Such as Pubescent Pollyanna, who is currently penning this post. Pubescent Polly has perhaps been unleashed as a result of my current life circumstances. Many of my days this summer have been reminiscent of a time, long long ago, when my pubescent self was home alone, listening to pop music on my boombox and writing pathetically putrid poems, songs, and plays. The grown up me, however, posits that life experiences, whether painful, parental, pleasing, peculiar or a partnership of two or more of them, have unveiled a plethora of personas in which I inhabit. And all of these personas I’m discovering are propelled by Real Rhonda.
In addition to Pubescent Polly, there is:
Pokey Polly: She’s the one that takes 8 times longer to finish a meal than anyone else on the planet. Especially when eating pizza. Or Pie. Or Pineapples.
Peaceful Polly: She’s the one who just wants everyone to get along for Pete’s Sake! She strives to be mindful. She meditates daily. She protests peacefully for truth, justice, and human rights.
Passionate Pollyanna: She’s the one who is nuts about music. And food. Like peanut butter and pistachios. Peaches and pumpkin (though not together. She has no interest in being Pukey Polly). And she loves the color purple. And Hubs, her partner in life. And puppies.
Planner Pollyanna: This is the one who underneath it all, loves herself a party. Planning the party is a joy for her. She does her best to ponder who to invite, what they like to eat and drink, listen to and what games they might like to play.
Persnickety Polly: She’s kind of a snarky bitch. She’s hard to please and may come off to some as a perfectionist. She doesn’t do a lot of blog posts.
Playful Pollyanna: She’s the one in control now. She is perpetually in cahoots with Pubescent Pollyanna. She likes to goof off a lot. She has more fun than any of the other personas.
Persistent Polly-She is particularly important. She perseveres people! She doesn’t give up no matter what. Even if people don’t like her pitiful blog.
Pondering Pollyanna: This persona is pensive. Perhaps a bit deep. She pens posts about personal observations about life and possibilities.
Pitiful Polly: Despite her white privilege, she finds things to whine about anyway. She is not allowed to pen any posts on Pollyanna’s Path.
Pissy Polly-She is the political one. She only posts when something in the political arena truly, positively, pisses her off. And she has potential solutions to whatever the problem is that has her so perturbed.
People Pleasing Polly: She is present in the vast majority of posts on this blog. She prefers to hear positive commentary, but because she is able to partner with Peaceful Polly, she is very open to constructive criticism.
Then there are the personas of Pollyanna that no one will be reading because they suck, like Pretend Pollyanna, Preposterous Pollyanna, Petty Polly, Pretentious Pollyanna, Patronizing Pollyanna or Pessimistic Polly.
As Real Rhonda I hope in the future to present my precious followers with plenty of other personas, such as Progressive Polly, Promising Pollyanna, Proactive Polly, and Praiseful Pollyanna. Because Perfect Pollyanna doesn’t exist.
I am a big fat sucker for those inane personality tests on Facebook. I am surely not alone in this. Otherwise, those smarty pants techno wizards behind Facebook would not continue to come up with them. Loads of suckers are out there, just like me, simply dying to know what color their “aura” is (mine is pink. I am certain you needed to know that).
So I am nearing a point in my “gap year” (that one year when you have graduated from school-or in my case, my job as a social worker, and you have all these big great life altering ideas and you spend far too much time reading, blogging, gorging on MSNBC, drinking craft beer, watching Seinfeld reruns and taking important Facebook tests), where actual paid employment is quickly becoming something that I best achieve, if for no other reason than I simply must have more financial resources to start seriously knocking off some items off my travel bucket list.
So, that said, what if I turned all of that flipping valuable knowledge of myself gleaned through these perfectly scientifically based Facebook personality tests into the most EPIC cover letter or resume for the job I will obviously get?
It might look something like this:
Dear future employer (see how confident I am? I am telling THEM that they will be my employer. Turning those tables around. Go me!),
Hi, my name is Rhonda and I’m pretty awesome (bam! did it again). Facebook has assured me of this, and as you know, Facebook is the. Ultimate. Authority. On. Everything.
First off, let’s be clear that I shall not work for your organization/company/publication past the age of 61, because Facebook told me that is the age at which I will retire. That gives you 11 years of my personal awesomeness, thankyouverymuch. At the age of 61, my assets will be no less than 98 million U.S. dollars. Facebook is certain that I will amass $66,999 per month. I’m no mathematician (though I’m sure there’s an app for that), but I think it’s safe to assume that making $66,999 per month will equal to at least 98 million bucks by the time I’m ready to say “take this job and shove it” and drive my Bugatti
over to my country villa with my 7 dogs). Facebook really gets me. Thank the good Lord someone does. Sheesh.
I would be remiss to neglect mentioning what it is exactly that I can offer you as your next employee (see-did it again-I’m on a flipping role here). I have it on very good authority (Facebook, duh!) that my IQ is 198. So I’m basically a genius. And my EQ (emotional intelligence-not sure why Facebook uses a Q instead of an I here, but I can overlook this one small error) is 179. And not only that, I am 193% precise. Precise at what you ask? I may have to do another Facebook test for that, but it’s probably safe to assume I am precise at doing doctorly things like open heart surgery, circumcisions, and popping blackheads. Because the job that most suits me is being a Doctor, according to official sources at Facebook.
Heads up dear bosses-I require a minimum of 88 days of per year, not including weekends, holidays, birthdays (mine, family members, and all my Facebook friends or course), and sick days (even doctors get sick sometimes), to allow me the time required to write my autobiography entitled “How I learned to Dance in the Rain”. I have to credit the geniuses of Facebook for coming up with this title. Somehow they learned of my tremendous dancing skills and that I know a lot about rain because I married a meteorologist. Damn they’re good.
In conclusion, I’d like to point out that if you make the poor choice of not hiring me right now, I am 99% Bitch. Actually, to be more specific, I am the Queen Bitch. That means, according to the psychics at Facebook, that I always get what I want because I go after it 100%. And obvs, no one messes with me as a result. You’ve been warned.
Where do I even begin? Saying my dad is the best is an understatement. This is the man who worked up to 3 jobs at a time to provide for myself, my mom, my 2 siblings and our dog. This is the man who expresses his affection for those he loves freely and openly. This is the man who has a knack for coming up with nicknames for his loving family members to express his unabashed love for us all. I loved when he would refer to me as being “Yoon-a-que” (a clever play on the word “unique”). He is more likely though to call me “Rhoda Joda”, which he’s been doing for most of my life. My sister, Kelly, is referred to by him as “Kel Kel Poo Poo” and mom is “Mama Buns”. I think it is fair to say his original nicknames for each of us made us feel beloved by him. And he is so beloved by so many. He taught me through example the importance of honesty, integrity, patriotism, hard work, teamwork, and determination. He had a keen interest in what I was learning in college and the work I did as a social worker. He taught me how to appreciate nature and all the critters (especially dogs) within it. We shared a love of ice cream at the Dairy Queen. Often he’d sneak me off to scarf down hot fudge sundaes in the summertime, followed by a peaceful drive in the country. His existence raised my standards in who I would choose as my partner in life, and for that I am forever grateful. While I won’t be able to spend Father’s Day with him, I hope he truly knows how much I love, admire, and respect him.
My father in law, Jim, is the best second dad I could have ever hoped for. He is patient, funny, and one of the most generous people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He loves to talk politics/conspiracy theories. He is well known by all who love him for his great sayings like “You win some, you lose some”. Hubs tells me as a teenager, Jim’s one piece of advice to him was to “wear a raincoat if you’re going to play in the mud” (you get it right?). He is fun loving and a very involved Grandpa to our two kids. He has always had a habit of napping in his big comfy recliner, even amidst the chatter of those around him and the t.v. on. When the kids were in elementary school and they would spend weekends at Grandpa Jim and Grandma Alice’s house, he wouldn’t even flinch (though I highly suspect he was really awake) as the kids would adorn him with funny hats and lipstick. He has a deep love of animals and an uncanny ability to communicate with them. He has been known to take his cat Chester (whom was rescued as a wee kitten from the bushes in front of his house by our youngest) on a walk around the neighborhood with a leash. He is great at fixing cars, and along with my dad, got our old black Oldsmobile into good running condition the day Hubs and I were to leave on our honeymoon road trip to Mackinac Island 27 years ago. A gift of labor we appreciated more than words could say. I am blessed that Hubs was raised by this guy. He was an excellent role model for how to be a good man. I won’t be seeing Jim on Father’s Day this year either, but I hope he’s able to spend time doing his favorite things like spending time outdoors and watching Nascar on the tube.
Hubs-the love of my life and the best dad my kiddos could have had. Patient, just like his dad, which is much appreciated since I am quite certain living with the kiddos and I all these years would have been challenging even for Job. Hubs at his core is fun-loving, affectionate, and a wonderful teacher of life lessons. He is the dad that spent hours upon hours helping our kids with their homework. He is the dad who taught them how to fish and how to ride a bike. He is the dad who modeled how a good spouse operates by always working in partnership with me to ensure the house was kept up, supporting me in my career/job choices, treating me respectfully, and not shying away from showing his affection for me each and every day. He is the dad who modeled for our kids how to be a good citizen and human through taking them to see Obama speak, chaperoning church youth mission trips, volunteering, and writing thoughtful, heartfelt, and thought-provoking editorials in the local newspaper. He’s always encouraged the kids to further their education and delights in celebrating with them when they’ve achieved milestones in their lives. He is a great communicator and his listening skills are admirable, which I’m sure the kids would attest to. He loves having conversations with them about life and love. He learned much about how to be the wonderful dad he is from both our dads, which is a great blessing. I will be spending this Father’s Day with Hubs and plan to do everything in my power to make it a day he will appreciate and enjoy, because well, I love him and he deserves it.
Donuts are no doubt right up there with hot dogs as the worst thing one can consume. Yet they remain a delectable delight in spite of our best efforts to maintain a healthy diet. My favorites are puffy, sticky glazed ones. With a hot cup of Joe they are especially scrumptious. I also enjoy me a blueberry cake donut (which is totally fine because blueberries are one of those healthy superfoods right?) covered in a bit of sugary icing. And I find chocolate bismarcks with creamy vanilla pudding tucked inside a most decadent treat.
A trip to the county or state Fair is not truly complete without digging into one of those little white bags filled to capacity with those deep fried nuggets of goodness sprinkled generously with sugar and cinnamon, am I right?
As a kid growing up in northern Minnesota, back when the danger of carbs was not basic knowledge, and I operated under the assumption that I would forever be slender and fit (aka innocence is bliss), I frequently would pop into the bakery next door to my parent’s clothing store after school. Often I would purchase a long John with maple flavored icing which I’d wash down with a cold Coke. Good times.
Nowadays, I adhere to a new rule regarding the donut. I refuse to pay for them. Think about it this way: why would I pay (Hub’s) hard earned money for something that will be akin to poison for my body? Plus, think about all the scenarios in which free donuts are ‘a plenty: Community time after church, volunteer gigs, the break room at the office (granted, this is currently not a scenario I am a part of at this time, but surely have been in the past). There’s a level of giddy excitement when treats like donuts are free for the taking, kind of like what I would imagine one would feel upon learning they had won the lottery.
So there’s this donut shop located in a sort of run down strip mall near us. It’s housed next to a pot dispensary and a liquor store we sometimes frequent. And it appears to never be open for business. It’s called Holy Donuts and sports large pictures of donuts in the windows with what appears to be either orange construction paper or perhaps curtains beneath them. Not sure what that’s about. I surmised several possibilities about the owners of this donut shop, ranging from this being a cover for a super secret spy ring, to it being run by a lonely old man whose kids are all grown and living out of state and doesn’t have enough help to run the shop so he is only able to make so many donuts, hence the reason it is apparently closed 88% of the time.
However, I did me a little research (aka googled Holy Donuts). Turns out they are a “mom and pop” shop, so that blows my theory of this being run by a lonely old man using the last bit of energy he has slaving away in the kitchen making donuts by himself. And they only serve fresh donuts, no day old crud going on in this joint. And the coffee they serve is fresh roasted locally. And to top it off, their website states that they are “humble and privileged to serve a lovely community of folks”.