Last Day to Register
Mr. Random
This is the last full day to register for the Thanksgiving Giveaway. If you haven't
signed up and LEFT ME AN EMAIL ADDRESS, you need to now.
We've had 50 or so register and I'm so glad I'm not picking. Mr. Random was too busy today with all the Bloggy Giveaways, so he's coming tomorrow to do the choosing.
Still no news on the bad boy biker/cop bald dude. And, yes Jean, he has HANDCUFFS.
FAN ME some more!!
The DAVIDA
About every four years of my adult life, I have moved to a different location. We always looked at it as an adventure and made some wonderful friends along the way.
One particular mid-size town was actually a big place to us. We considered it a big place if there was more than one church to choose from.
This particular time we chose our church because it was the lesser of two strange choices. The pastor had been there a LONG time. So long, in fact, that he quit preparing for his sermons and just got up and winged it every week. He was deaf and thought nothing of calling a member out if you whispered something and he could read your lips. Bless him. As he got older, he also lost his...confidentiality. Not to be bad or anything, he just forgot he was not supposed to tell.
During our Wednesday night services, he would lead our congregation in prayer and tell every health condition of anyone...from ED to blindness to amputation...I kid you not. Most of us learned NOT to tell him anything we didn't want the whole church to know.
During these years I had to have a hysterectomy. I was pretty young. I chose NOT to tell him because the whole thing was just a pretty private issue.
He found out. Someone ratted me out. The night before surgery he burst into my hospital room (one hour away) and yelled, "Let's pray!" He prayed, did an about face and left the room, never speaking to us.
After recovery, I went back to church and he ANNOUNCED FROM THE PULPIT ABOUT MY SURGERY AND THAT I TRIED TO KEEP IT FROM HIM. Because I was so young I was mortified.
I tell you this story to set the stage for an interesting phenomenon that occurred as a result of his judgemental and critical spirit. Many in the congregation were judgemental, too. They had been conditioned for about 33 years and it was all many of them knew.
There were three girls that learned this behavior at their parents' knee. Anytime ANY kind of "worldly behavior"( like going to a movie or smiling during church) was mentioned, these three girls would whip their heads IN UNISON and stare at the three of us. It was so obvious and we would get so tickled at their stares. Think Dana Carvey as the Church Lady. It was a "laugh out loud" kind of funny.
Keep in mind this happened at EVERY service, EVERY week, 52 weeks a year.
We finally gave the head-whipping motion a name..."THE DAVIDA" after the ring-leader of this little group.
I learned some valuable lessons during these years. NOT to use prayer requests as a chance to gossip about someone and to respect their confidentiality. Up until this point in my life, I was probably WAY too judgemental myself. After being the recipient of "THE DAVIDA" for three years I learned not to be so fast to judge another person or their behavior without all the facts. Great lessons that have served me well.
I have absolutely no idea where I was going with this story.
Long story short, we moved. Eventually, the pastor left that congregation and moved on. They got a wonderful minister to lead them and it totally revolutionized that body of believers.
Brother Tell All was a good person suffering from burn-out. I guess that happens when a situation stays the same for years and years. Christianity is important. Serious. But I am living proof that God has a sense of humor.
*************************************************************************************
EMERGENCY NOTIFICATION TO THE PEEPS! Guess who has walked across Beachy Mimi's path?
A 56 year old BALD guy, who is a CHRISTIAN, and in LAW ENFORCEMENT (which means he has a UNIFORM)and he rides MOTORCYCLES. (Beachy Mimi biting knuckles) Beachy Mimi SO needs a little BAD BOY is her life. Fan me, Peeps, Fan me. It's hot in here.
One particular mid-size town was actually a big place to us. We considered it a big place if there was more than one church to choose from.
This particular time we chose our church because it was the lesser of two strange choices. The pastor had been there a LONG time. So long, in fact, that he quit preparing for his sermons and just got up and winged it every week. He was deaf and thought nothing of calling a member out if you whispered something and he could read your lips. Bless him. As he got older, he also lost his...confidentiality. Not to be bad or anything, he just forgot he was not supposed to tell.
During our Wednesday night services, he would lead our congregation in prayer and tell every health condition of anyone...from ED to blindness to amputation...I kid you not. Most of us learned NOT to tell him anything we didn't want the whole church to know.
During these years I had to have a hysterectomy. I was pretty young. I chose NOT to tell him because the whole thing was just a pretty private issue.
He found out. Someone ratted me out. The night before surgery he burst into my hospital room (one hour away) and yelled, "Let's pray!" He prayed, did an about face and left the room, never speaking to us.
After recovery, I went back to church and he ANNOUNCED FROM THE PULPIT ABOUT MY SURGERY AND THAT I TRIED TO KEEP IT FROM HIM. Because I was so young I was mortified.
I tell you this story to set the stage for an interesting phenomenon that occurred as a result of his judgemental and critical spirit. Many in the congregation were judgemental, too. They had been conditioned for about 33 years and it was all many of them knew.
There were three girls that learned this behavior at their parents' knee. Anytime ANY kind of "worldly behavior"( like going to a movie or smiling during church) was mentioned, these three girls would whip their heads IN UNISON and stare at the three of us. It was so obvious and we would get so tickled at their stares. Think Dana Carvey as the Church Lady. It was a "laugh out loud" kind of funny.
Keep in mind this happened at EVERY service, EVERY week, 52 weeks a year.
We finally gave the head-whipping motion a name..."THE DAVIDA" after the ring-leader of this little group.
I learned some valuable lessons during these years. NOT to use prayer requests as a chance to gossip about someone and to respect their confidentiality. Up until this point in my life, I was probably WAY too judgemental myself. After being the recipient of "THE DAVIDA" for three years I learned not to be so fast to judge another person or their behavior without all the facts. Great lessons that have served me well.
I have absolutely no idea where I was going with this story.
Long story short, we moved. Eventually, the pastor left that congregation and moved on. They got a wonderful minister to lead them and it totally revolutionized that body of believers.
Brother Tell All was a good person suffering from burn-out. I guess that happens when a situation stays the same for years and years. Christianity is important. Serious. But I am living proof that God has a sense of humor.
*************************************************************************************
EMERGENCY NOTIFICATION TO THE PEEPS! Guess who has walked across Beachy Mimi's path?
A 56 year old BALD guy, who is a CHRISTIAN, and in LAW ENFORCEMENT (which means he has a UNIFORM)and he rides MOTORCYCLES. (Beachy Mimi biting knuckles) Beachy Mimi SO needs a little BAD BOY is her life. Fan me, Peeps, Fan me. It's hot in here.
BMBM Eyebrows
Hmmm. I've gone two whole days without being inappropriate. I'm off my game.
Speaking about budgets, I've had to give up a few things myself.
The first thing that had to go was...waxing and lasering. I know, I know...the lasering was not much of a sacrifice but work with me here. The waxing is almost a necessity. My eyebrows are living proof.
I have alot of eyebrows. Less as I age, but still alot. It takes a trained person to keep them tame. Think Andy Rooney eyebrows. They point up, out, down...any way they are not supposed to go. I have tried putting goop on them to keep them from escaping but it just doesn't work. Instead of one sticking out, maybe 10-15 point in some other direction in a glob. You know it is bad when your eyebrows enter the room before YOU actually do.
Have you seen monkeys grooming each other? I guess I need my own monkey because plucking has now become my new obsession. I use a 10X mirror which only makes it seem worse. If I let them go for a few days...oh my. They run amuck. It's a problem when you have blonde (fake) heh heh hair and coal black eyebrows. They are noticeable.
The lasering? Not such a sacrifice but it makes me feel better to say I gave up two things.
PU gave up toes but I just don't think I can do that yet. Pink toes just make me happy. I can't give Sonic up right now. Hair color is out of the question at my age. Make-up? Ditto.
This is going to take careful consideration. I can give up liver, prunes and green stuff but that's not much of a stretch.
I have given up some travel, movies and most sweets. It has given me a tic.
So, Peeps. What have you given up? Give me some ideas. Especially if you have any eyebrow advice.
Speaking about budgets, I've had to give up a few things myself.
The first thing that had to go was...waxing and lasering. I know, I know...the lasering was not much of a sacrifice but work with me here. The waxing is almost a necessity. My eyebrows are living proof.
I have alot of eyebrows. Less as I age, but still alot. It takes a trained person to keep them tame. Think Andy Rooney eyebrows. They point up, out, down...any way they are not supposed to go. I have tried putting goop on them to keep them from escaping but it just doesn't work. Instead of one sticking out, maybe 10-15 point in some other direction in a glob. You know it is bad when your eyebrows enter the room before YOU actually do.
Have you seen monkeys grooming each other? I guess I need my own monkey because plucking has now become my new obsession. I use a 10X mirror which only makes it seem worse. If I let them go for a few days...oh my. They run amuck. It's a problem when you have blonde (fake) heh heh hair and coal black eyebrows. They are noticeable.
The lasering? Not such a sacrifice but it makes me feel better to say I gave up two things.
PU gave up toes but I just don't think I can do that yet. Pink toes just make me happy. I can't give Sonic up right now. Hair color is out of the question at my age. Make-up? Ditto.
This is going to take careful consideration. I can give up liver, prunes and green stuff but that's not much of a stretch.
I have given up some travel, movies and most sweets. It has given me a tic.
So, Peeps. What have you given up? Give me some ideas. Especially if you have any eyebrow advice.
Thanksgiving Giveaway
I love Thanksgiving. The cool weather, the FOOD, the four-day holiday, ballgames, friends and the kick-off to the whole holiday season.
I especially love it because it makes me stop and reflect on all my blessings and realize that there are those families that are really struggling.
Most of us have had to really take a look at our spending habits, driving habits and various other bugetary items and make adjustments.
With that thought in mind, I thought that I would offer a true Thanksgiving type giveaway.
The prize is a gift certificate to, oh I hate this, Walmart. I am a Target girl but not every place has a Target and not all Target stores have groceries. Unfortunately, WM is everywhere.
The idea is, you win a gift card for some Thanksgiving groceries and I will send an extra one to you to GIVE to someone else. Preferably to someone that could use a little extra grocery money.
Here are the rules: sign up and tell me what you are thankful for. Leave me a way to contact you (very important). Also, tell me how you would give away the extra card. Be creative. Mr. Random will do his thing. I would really like the winners
to inspire us by telling of your giveaway opportunity/experience in a later comment.
Easy peasy.
Contest will close Saturday night at 6 PM CDT and winners will be announced later that evening.
I love you, Peeps!
I especially love it because it makes me stop and reflect on all my blessings and realize that there are those families that are really struggling.
Most of us have had to really take a look at our spending habits, driving habits and various other bugetary items and make adjustments.
With that thought in mind, I thought that I would offer a true Thanksgiving type giveaway.
The prize is a gift certificate to, oh I hate this, Walmart. I am a Target girl but not every place has a Target and not all Target stores have groceries. Unfortunately, WM is everywhere.
The idea is, you win a gift card for some Thanksgiving groceries and I will send an extra one to you to GIVE to someone else. Preferably to someone that could use a little extra grocery money.
Here are the rules: sign up and tell me what you are thankful for. Leave me a way to contact you (very important). Also, tell me how you would give away the extra card. Be creative. Mr. Random will do his thing. I would really like the winners
to inspire us by telling of your giveaway opportunity/experience in a later comment.
Easy peasy.
Contest will close Saturday night at 6 PM CDT and winners will be announced later that evening.
I love you, Peeps!
I'm Baaack!!
Hello, my Peeps! I've missed you so!!
After much thought, Beachy Mimi decided to remain Beachy Mimi for now. I'm working on another blogsite and it is so stinkin' cute. However, I will not go without telling my Peeps where to find me. Since it's anonymous and all.
One of my Precious Peeps summed it up better than I could. She said, "Everyone needs a little BM everyday." hahahahahahahteeeheeeeharharhar
Ain't it the truth.
So, whether I'm BM, QM, OCD, or XXP, I'm not going anywhere.
The plain fact is, no one is forcing anyone to read this blog. There. I said it. What I really want to say is, "Bite ME", but that is really tacky and I would never do that.
I have stated before that my Bloggy Mission Statement is simply to point out some of the humor in life. People blog for different reasons and they are all okay. I wouldn't dream of telling someone else what to write or not write, and I've read some pretty gross stuff.
And another thing, I'm not teaching grammar and puncutation here. So take the ,.!;:"'and put them wherever you think they need to go. Feel free.
As far as etiquette...HUH? Bloggy etiquette? Oh, please. Get a life.
One of the, shall we say..detractors...criticizes my bloggy etiquette. Just remember when you point your finger at someone, there are three pointing right back at you.
So, BM is here to stay!!
I could say lots more but I keep remembering one of my mottos, "just because you can doesn't mean you should."
Enough of that.
How are my Peeps? Have you voted yet? I took advantage of the early voting opportunity along with hundreds of other fellow citizens. I'm glad to have it out of the way. Besides, I'm going to the BEACH for a couple of weeks and maybe when I get home all the political stuff will be off the tv and I can concentrate on the Amazing Race.
I think I could so do the Amazing Race. After all, I love to travel and I sure don't sleep...hmmm I may think about that. I could use a million bucks. Or, even ten bucks...
Tomorrow I think I'll do a Thanksgiving Giveaway so be sure to sign up!
I appreciate your loyalty more than I can ever express.
I love my Peeps!!
After much thought, Beachy Mimi decided to remain Beachy Mimi for now. I'm working on another blogsite and it is so stinkin' cute. However, I will not go without telling my Peeps where to find me. Since it's anonymous and all.
One of my Precious Peeps summed it up better than I could. She said, "Everyone needs a little BM everyday." hahahahahahahteeeheeeeharharhar
Ain't it the truth.
So, whether I'm BM, QM, OCD, or XXP, I'm not going anywhere.
The plain fact is, no one is forcing anyone to read this blog. There. I said it. What I really want to say is, "Bite ME", but that is really tacky and I would never do that.
I have stated before that my Bloggy Mission Statement is simply to point out some of the humor in life. People blog for different reasons and they are all okay. I wouldn't dream of telling someone else what to write or not write, and I've read some pretty gross stuff.
And another thing, I'm not teaching grammar and puncutation here. So take the ,.!;:"'and put them wherever you think they need to go. Feel free.
As far as etiquette...HUH? Bloggy etiquette? Oh, please. Get a life.
One of the, shall we say..detractors...criticizes my bloggy etiquette. Just remember when you point your finger at someone, there are three pointing right back at you.
So, BM is here to stay!!
I could say lots more but I keep remembering one of my mottos, "just because you can doesn't mean you should."
Enough of that.
How are my Peeps? Have you voted yet? I took advantage of the early voting opportunity along with hundreds of other fellow citizens. I'm glad to have it out of the way. Besides, I'm going to the BEACH for a couple of weeks and maybe when I get home all the political stuff will be off the tv and I can concentrate on the Amazing Race.
I think I could so do the Amazing Race. After all, I love to travel and I sure don't sleep...hmmm I may think about that. I could use a million bucks. Or, even ten bucks...
Tomorrow I think I'll do a Thanksgiving Giveaway so be sure to sign up!
I appreciate your loyalty more than I can ever express.
I love my Peeps!!
My Little Cans of Whoop-Bottom
Sometimes, a gal just needs to carry a can of WHOOP-A** in her purse.
I KNOW! Shocking isn't it.
I personally have two cans. Their names are PeepOne and PeepTwo. They get RILED if somebody gets up in my business and I love them for it.
So DETRACTOR, move on or I will sic them on you.
To the rest of my Peeps, I love you and will be back tomorrow!!
I KNOW! Shocking isn't it.
I personally have two cans. Their names are PeepOne and PeepTwo. They get RILED if somebody gets up in my business and I love them for it.
So DETRACTOR, move on or I will sic them on you.
To the rest of my Peeps, I love you and will be back tomorrow!!
I'll Be Back On Monday
I just can't stay away from my Peeps! I'll be back on Monday with some new insight and probably bad subject matter.
They can't keep Beachy Mimi down!!
They can't keep Beachy Mimi down!!
Bye Bye Bye
I'm thinking this will be my last post as Beachy Mimi.
The problem is, I started out to be anonymous but that didn't work out exactly like I thought it would. Too many Peeps know BM.
BM has officially embarassed the family.
So, starting Monday, I will begin blogging with my new name and be anonymous.
I'm thinking my new, anonymous name will be Meachy Bimi. Or, Eachyta Imiba.
What sounds good to you, Peeps?
The problem is, I started out to be anonymous but that didn't work out exactly like I thought it would. Too many Peeps know BM.
BM has officially embarassed the family.
So, starting Monday, I will begin blogging with my new name and be anonymous.
I'm thinking my new, anonymous name will be Meachy Bimi. Or, Eachyta Imiba.
What sounds good to you, Peeps?
Something
I've got to come up with something just to get that last post off the top of the page.
THAT'S what happens when Beachy Mimi runs fever.
The miracle RX is working, and for the price I should be up dancing and whooping it up. I am better, but not to the whooping it up stage, unless you count my relentless coughing and I don't.
Poor, poor Queen B and the science fair project. Heh Heh
I may or may not have tackled a few of those for her in past years...I can sit back and enjoy this.
Just a grandmotherly note to pass along to the Peeps: encourage your children CONSTANTLY.
I have a feeling that all the women who are Peeps here already do this. Just take it from a Peep that didn't get encouragement growing up. It will make a tremendous difference in your kid's lives. Okay, okay. Get out the violins. I'm not having a pity party AT ALL.
Not every person parents their children the same way. There are women that have a very difficult time stirring up some maternal mojo.
Our self-esteem comes from the Lord. I totally believe that. But for those years when you are a little too young to grasp that fully, you really need a parents' confirmation of you as a person.
Kids of all ages need to be hugged, kissed, loved on and TOLD they are loved. In words. All that "stuff" we do for them out of love is just "stuff" to kids. They need the concrete display with touch and words.
My P-Units were reared in a time when affection was not the standard in many homes.
A Daddy worked. Mamas might work outside the home, but mostly were housewives. I felt there was something wrong with ME because my PU worked and I stayed with someone else.
That't totally ridiculous, of course, but to a little kid...imaginations run wild.
I taught some very confused children. They really had a problem with their own worth and identity in a busy household with lots going on.
Boy this sounds depressing, I don't mean it to be.
Just encouragement for you to wipe a big kiss on your kids and give the teenagers a noogie just so you can give them some touching.
I co-taught a Bible study a few years ago and the number 1 thing men (boys)said they missed in tween to teenage years was...touch.
Women had more varied answers but I know they feel the same way.
I'm going to go drown myself with more cough syrup and hush until my semi-feverish brain can come up with some cheery stuff to say.
Have a great day, Peeps! I'll be back to normal, soon.
I have a feeling I left out alot of punctuation in my ramblings. So, Peeps, here it is. Apply as needed. , .'/?!
THAT'S what happens when Beachy Mimi runs fever.
The miracle RX is working, and for the price I should be up dancing and whooping it up. I am better, but not to the whooping it up stage, unless you count my relentless coughing and I don't.
Poor, poor Queen B and the science fair project. Heh Heh
I may or may not have tackled a few of those for her in past years...I can sit back and enjoy this.
Just a grandmotherly note to pass along to the Peeps: encourage your children CONSTANTLY.
I have a feeling that all the women who are Peeps here already do this. Just take it from a Peep that didn't get encouragement growing up. It will make a tremendous difference in your kid's lives. Okay, okay. Get out the violins. I'm not having a pity party AT ALL.
Not every person parents their children the same way. There are women that have a very difficult time stirring up some maternal mojo.
Our self-esteem comes from the Lord. I totally believe that. But for those years when you are a little too young to grasp that fully, you really need a parents' confirmation of you as a person.
Kids of all ages need to be hugged, kissed, loved on and TOLD they are loved. In words. All that "stuff" we do for them out of love is just "stuff" to kids. They need the concrete display with touch and words.
My P-Units were reared in a time when affection was not the standard in many homes.
A Daddy worked. Mamas might work outside the home, but mostly were housewives. I felt there was something wrong with ME because my PU worked and I stayed with someone else.
That't totally ridiculous, of course, but to a little kid...imaginations run wild.
I taught some very confused children. They really had a problem with their own worth and identity in a busy household with lots going on.
Boy this sounds depressing, I don't mean it to be.
Just encouragement for you to wipe a big kiss on your kids and give the teenagers a noogie just so you can give them some touching.
I co-taught a Bible study a few years ago and the number 1 thing men (boys)said they missed in tween to teenage years was...touch.
Women had more varied answers but I know they feel the same way.
I'm going to go drown myself with more cough syrup and hush until my semi-feverish brain can come up with some cheery stuff to say.
Have a great day, Peeps! I'll be back to normal, soon.
I have a feeling I left out alot of punctuation in my ramblings. So, Peeps, here it is. Apply as needed. , .'/?!
Getting Older is a Gas!
I have shared with you Peeps some of the...issues you will be facing as you age.
All these are a part of life and really not to be dreaded. It does help to be informed, however, so 1) it won't be such a shock to you when faced with your changing body, and, 2) a cruel reminder that you, in fact, ARE AGING.
Gravitational pulls, menopause, hormones,uncontrolled hair growth, achieving O's...all are topics we have addressed in the past. Probably some more I can't think of right now.
While here in my sickbed, I've had lots of time to meditate, ponder, study, think, pray and be consumed by more totally useless information that I feel I must pass to you. (PUN INTENDED)
One of the WORST signs of an aging body is...gas. Not the kind you pay $4 a gallon at the pump, but the kind your traitorous body manufactures.
Some Peeps have this worse than others, probably depending on diet and exercise, but I KNOW. I KNOW THE SECRETS, PEEPS. We ALL have it in some form.
Not having raised boys or be the grandmother of a boy, I was quite...unprepared for this untimely, deadly, embarassing and ever present need to pass it.
Kids do it and cackle. Men look at it like burping...the louder and bigger the better. As a teacher, I was aware of this in some form, but NEVER thought it would be applicable to me.
I'm not in the medical profession, not even a Health Educator from WalMart, so my information is based more on experiences of others and not scientific data or Google.
The digestive system slows somewhat as we get older. The body betrays...YES BETRAYS us at the worst possible moments.
Maybe some examples will help: you know you have a critical situation when you have to NAME them.
The first one I will call THE BOMB. It drops unexpectedly with one giant boom! The most terrifying thing about bombing is that you have NO CONTROL over when and where you drop it. You might or might not be walking across your office floor with all secretaries present when it happens. There is just not a lot of recovery from a BOMB. Your best bet it to just keep walking and hope that someone else there thinks THEY dropped it. Everybody just gets real busy and the whole thing gets ignored.
Church is another place where an attack can occur. Especially if you have been sitting for awhile. The second I will call THE AUTOMATIC RIFLE.
The worst thing about the RIFLE is the duration. It comes out with a POP-POP-POP-POP in a seemingly neverending series of several. They may have a silencer (that is, come and go quietly), but more than likely at least ONE will escape.
This little gift is also a surprise but if you are clever and aware you may be able to drop the hymnal, pop your knees or other appendage to camouflage the sound.
The third is the worst.THE TRUMPET. There is just hardly ANY recovery for THE TRUMPET. Your best bet is blame a child with you or look at your husband like "why did you do that?"
NEVER ADMIT TO A TRUMPET. Never let them see you sweat.
TRAVEL GAS, again, not at the pump, is also bad. If you are quick you may be able to walk around when you stop, fake bending (dangerous) and tying a shoelace or be the one who pumps the fuel into the vehicle. This buys you time to slip it out slowly without witnesses.
A Very Important Rule is YOU CAN NOT DO IT IN THE LADIES RESTROOM. Especially if someone else is in there with you. Ladies never admit or pass in front of other ladies in the restroom. It just isn't done unless you are Heathen or 2 years old.
TRAVEL GAS gives you a little more leeway and space if you play your cards right. And, if you can escape from your travel mates.
This one is...awful, terrible, horrible and funny at the same time. You married ladies know what I am talking about. It invariably happens at the most inopportune moment. You think you have it made and the husband has been so blinded with lust he didn't hear it. WRONG. You are busted. The longer you are married the less chance you have of escaping notice or comment. S*XY, huh! I guess we can name that COITUS COMBUSTUS. Talk about ruining a moment.
Well, I guess I have covered the basics.
I obviously need to get well FAST...before I think of something else.
Have a pleasant day!
All these are a part of life and really not to be dreaded. It does help to be informed, however, so 1) it won't be such a shock to you when faced with your changing body, and, 2) a cruel reminder that you, in fact, ARE AGING.
Gravitational pulls, menopause, hormones,uncontrolled hair growth, achieving O's...all are topics we have addressed in the past. Probably some more I can't think of right now.
While here in my sickbed, I've had lots of time to meditate, ponder, study, think, pray and be consumed by more totally useless information that I feel I must pass to you. (PUN INTENDED)
One of the WORST signs of an aging body is...gas. Not the kind you pay $4 a gallon at the pump, but the kind your traitorous body manufactures.
Some Peeps have this worse than others, probably depending on diet and exercise, but I KNOW. I KNOW THE SECRETS, PEEPS. We ALL have it in some form.
Not having raised boys or be the grandmother of a boy, I was quite...unprepared for this untimely, deadly, embarassing and ever present need to pass it.
Kids do it and cackle. Men look at it like burping...the louder and bigger the better. As a teacher, I was aware of this in some form, but NEVER thought it would be applicable to me.
I'm not in the medical profession, not even a Health Educator from WalMart, so my information is based more on experiences of others and not scientific data or Google.
The digestive system slows somewhat as we get older. The body betrays...YES BETRAYS us at the worst possible moments.
Maybe some examples will help: you know you have a critical situation when you have to NAME them.
The first one I will call THE BOMB. It drops unexpectedly with one giant boom! The most terrifying thing about bombing is that you have NO CONTROL over when and where you drop it. You might or might not be walking across your office floor with all secretaries present when it happens. There is just not a lot of recovery from a BOMB. Your best bet it to just keep walking and hope that someone else there thinks THEY dropped it. Everybody just gets real busy and the whole thing gets ignored.
Church is another place where an attack can occur. Especially if you have been sitting for awhile. The second I will call THE AUTOMATIC RIFLE.
The worst thing about the RIFLE is the duration. It comes out with a POP-POP-POP-POP in a seemingly neverending series of several. They may have a silencer (that is, come and go quietly), but more than likely at least ONE will escape.
This little gift is also a surprise but if you are clever and aware you may be able to drop the hymnal, pop your knees or other appendage to camouflage the sound.
The third is the worst.THE TRUMPET. There is just hardly ANY recovery for THE TRUMPET. Your best bet is blame a child with you or look at your husband like "why did you do that?"
NEVER ADMIT TO A TRUMPET. Never let them see you sweat.
TRAVEL GAS, again, not at the pump, is also bad. If you are quick you may be able to walk around when you stop, fake bending (dangerous) and tying a shoelace or be the one who pumps the fuel into the vehicle. This buys you time to slip it out slowly without witnesses.
A Very Important Rule is YOU CAN NOT DO IT IN THE LADIES RESTROOM. Especially if someone else is in there with you. Ladies never admit or pass in front of other ladies in the restroom. It just isn't done unless you are Heathen or 2 years old.
TRAVEL GAS gives you a little more leeway and space if you play your cards right. And, if you can escape from your travel mates.
This one is...awful, terrible, horrible and funny at the same time. You married ladies know what I am talking about. It invariably happens at the most inopportune moment. You think you have it made and the husband has been so blinded with lust he didn't hear it. WRONG. You are busted. The longer you are married the less chance you have of escaping notice or comment. S*XY, huh! I guess we can name that COITUS COMBUSTUS. Talk about ruining a moment.
Well, I guess I have covered the basics.
I obviously need to get well FAST...before I think of something else.
Have a pleasant day!
One Day to Give
KRISTEN at We Are THAT Family is hosting a ONE DAY TO GIVE challenge to the blogworld.
Basically, as a Peep you reach out to someone and do something for them without expecting some kind of return for yourself.
I had the perfect thing. I won't go in to the big details, but God gave me the opportunity to donate some computer lab stuff for a Christian school in my area.
As a former teacher and a computer illiterate, I thought this would be something the children could start in the upper elementary to get some of the basics under their belts by the time they get to high school. This is a fairly new school so they don't have lots of infrastructure yet.
This is nothing that I did or should get credit for. I simply passed on a blessing I received from God to some little kids who could really benefit from a computer lab.
This has made me realize that I shouldn't wait for a special occasion to do this. I should make myself available ALL the time. So, I'm going to be more deliberate with giving from now on. Maybe once a month do something specific for someone else...and it doesn't have to involve money.
So, I'm challenging you, Peeps! Pass on some grace and love to someone else this weekend. YOUR blessing will be tremendous
Whine, Whine and Whine
Well, Beachy Mimi is still sick. My voice sounds like a squeaky...something.
I did go to the real doctor today, not Queen B's Health Educator from WalMart.
The sickness was NOT in the budget for the month. Especially the MEDICATIONS. Oh my, I had 4 prescriptions than ran about $400. With insurance.
Just the usual stuff. High powered antibiotic, cough syrup and the stuff to take after the antibiotic does the itchy thing. It rhymes with BEAST INFECTION. And, if I may say so, is a beast. Though that is actually the most important RX and it was just $3. Something is just WRONG that medicines cost so much. It makes me sick!!..hahahaha
Sickbed humor.
The Parental Unit said she would come take care of me...She walked in the door, poured a can of Rotel in the soup I was making, and left. Time nursing--10 seconds.
I guess with the Rotel I can add stomach problems to my chest problems.
Actually, this soup is pretty good and hearty when you are well.
Beachy Mimi's Sick Soup
2 cans Progresso Minestrone Soup
2 lbs. fried ground beef
2 cans pinto beans
2 cans Rotel
Fry meat, mix together for 30 minutes or so and eat. It is really better the second day.
Anyway, as the weather gets cooler here this soup just hits the spot...if you aren't having an intestinal issue. Which, I'm not, so PU's contribution was welcome.
A nurse...she isn't. It was always get better or die at our house growing up.
Now that I have my own home I don't have anyone to take advantage of and make them bring me Sonic cokes and stuff. Bummer.
Queen B...your mommy is calling...help.
She's ignoring me. She is sick, herself. In fact, she got a shot in the hiney this morning and now she is disgustingly better. And not coming near my germs.
If we lived in the same town I would so totally milk this situation.
Instead I have PU, who took Nursing (minus) -101.
I've been checking out blogs while I am here in the sickbed and I am finding something alarming. ALARMING, YA'LL.
Most everyone seems to have the Bloggy Blues. Several of my Precious Peeps are quitting.
NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOO! Please don't go. You may think your posts are not interesting, but they ARE. People in the sickbed DEPEND on your bloggy goodness.
Take a walk around the block, go to Sonic, clean out a closet...JUST DON'T LEAVE.
We all have days (like today) when nothing much seems interesting or blogworthy, but it IS.
Trust me on this. Some of us HAVE to live vicariously through your blogisms, MEMEs, awards, photos, contests, recipes, tips, recommendations...you see? YOU ARE NEEDED!
Besides, don't you secretly love your comments and statcounter? HUH? Come on. Admit it. You check. Some of you check OFTEN. Just to see if you matter to at least one person.
Well, you matter. Don't quit. There's bloggy material all over the place. MIL, SIL, neighbors, PU's, bald guys, kids, hubs, the weather...lots of stuff and it is ALL GOOD.
If I can't milk a family member for more attention, it will have to be my Peeps!
With the miracle $400 antiobiotic, I will probably be naturally blonde and weigh 50lbs less by morning.
Stay tuned.
I did go to the real doctor today, not Queen B's Health Educator from WalMart.
The sickness was NOT in the budget for the month. Especially the MEDICATIONS. Oh my, I had 4 prescriptions than ran about $400. With insurance.
Just the usual stuff. High powered antibiotic, cough syrup and the stuff to take after the antibiotic does the itchy thing. It rhymes with BEAST INFECTION. And, if I may say so, is a beast. Though that is actually the most important RX and it was just $3. Something is just WRONG that medicines cost so much. It makes me sick!!..hahahaha
Sickbed humor.
The Parental Unit said she would come take care of me...She walked in the door, poured a can of Rotel in the soup I was making, and left. Time nursing--10 seconds.
I guess with the Rotel I can add stomach problems to my chest problems.
Actually, this soup is pretty good and hearty when you are well.
Beachy Mimi's Sick Soup
2 cans Progresso Minestrone Soup
2 lbs. fried ground beef
2 cans pinto beans
2 cans Rotel
Fry meat, mix together for 30 minutes or so and eat. It is really better the second day.
Anyway, as the weather gets cooler here this soup just hits the spot...if you aren't having an intestinal issue. Which, I'm not, so PU's contribution was welcome.
A nurse...she isn't. It was always get better or die at our house growing up.
Now that I have my own home I don't have anyone to take advantage of and make them bring me Sonic cokes and stuff. Bummer.
Queen B...your mommy is calling...help.
She's ignoring me. She is sick, herself. In fact, she got a shot in the hiney this morning and now she is disgustingly better. And not coming near my germs.
If we lived in the same town I would so totally milk this situation.
Instead I have PU, who took Nursing (minus) -101.
I've been checking out blogs while I am here in the sickbed and I am finding something alarming. ALARMING, YA'LL.
Most everyone seems to have the Bloggy Blues. Several of my Precious Peeps are quitting.
NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOO! Please don't go. You may think your posts are not interesting, but they ARE. People in the sickbed DEPEND on your bloggy goodness.
Take a walk around the block, go to Sonic, clean out a closet...JUST DON'T LEAVE.
We all have days (like today) when nothing much seems interesting or blogworthy, but it IS.
Trust me on this. Some of us HAVE to live vicariously through your blogisms, MEMEs, awards, photos, contests, recipes, tips, recommendations...you see? YOU ARE NEEDED!
Besides, don't you secretly love your comments and statcounter? HUH? Come on. Admit it. You check. Some of you check OFTEN. Just to see if you matter to at least one person.
Well, you matter. Don't quit. There's bloggy material all over the place. MIL, SIL, neighbors, PU's, bald guys, kids, hubs, the weather...lots of stuff and it is ALL GOOD.
If I can't milk a family member for more attention, it will have to be my Peeps!
With the miracle $400 antiobiotic, I will probably be naturally blonde and weigh 50lbs less by morning.
Stay tuned.
Thank You Very Much
New York Babe was so sweet to pass on this very underserved but much appreciated and loved award.
Aren't Bloggy Friends Great? I love my Peeps.
Aren't Bloggy Friends Great? I love my Peeps.
Get Out The Banjos
...as in the dueling banjo music of the most horrible movie ever.
I think we have a neighborhood rumble about to start. Hopefully, if the rain stops pouring I'll have a photo to post.
The neighbor.
Her pumpkins are back outside, but on the other side of the door where they can't be seen from my porch.
The phone lines have been hot. How do I know?
"Ring-Ring" (as in the phone) my phone number is unlisted except the POA just published a new version of our inmate I mean address list.
BM: Hello
NN (Nosy Neighbor) Hi! Was that your sister fixin' up your porch the other day?
BM: Huh?
NN: Your sister. Did she fix up your porch?
BM: I don't have a sister.
NN: Well. Louise (another neighbor) and Mary (another neighbor) have seen that girl that looks like you over there quite a bit. You know the one that drives the little sports car.
BM: Yes, she drives a sports car.
NN: So, she's not your sister?
BM: Uh, no.
NN: Aren't you related to the "NoName" family?
BM: Yes.
NN: How are you related?
BM: I'm the daughter.
NN: Is she related to them, too?
BM: Who? (of course I knew, I was just messing with her by now)
NN: That girl that looks like you.
NN: Is she kin?
BM: Kin? (snort snort)
NN: You know, relations.
BM: No
NN: No cousin?
BM: No
NN: She sure looks like you.
NN: What's your last name again?
BM: Mimi
NN: How come it's not "NoName"?
At this point Beachy Mimi is getting a little tired of this conversation/interrogation that started over a pumpkin topiary.
Evil Beachy Mimi wants to say "Mind your own business."
Jesus wants me to be kind and just answer her questions. I've been thinking of starting a little Bible Study and including these ladies. I've got just the one
BOUNDRIES
These are sweet old ladies that mean well. All they have to do is watch soaps, talk to their deaf husbands, watch my house or the geriatric frat house...also across the street.
Personally, I think they are much more interesting. In fact, I've been wondering...are they all related? Fathers and son? Brothers?
Hmmm. BOUNDRIES. I guess I need to attend my own Bible Study.
I think we have a neighborhood rumble about to start. Hopefully, if the rain stops pouring I'll have a photo to post.
The neighbor.
Her pumpkins are back outside, but on the other side of the door where they can't be seen from my porch.
The phone lines have been hot. How do I know?
"Ring-Ring" (as in the phone) my phone number is unlisted except the POA just published a new version of our inmate I mean address list.
BM: Hello
NN (Nosy Neighbor) Hi! Was that your sister fixin' up your porch the other day?
BM: Huh?
NN: Your sister. Did she fix up your porch?
BM: I don't have a sister.
NN: Well. Louise (another neighbor) and Mary (another neighbor) have seen that girl that looks like you over there quite a bit. You know the one that drives the little sports car.
BM: Yes, she drives a sports car.
NN: So, she's not your sister?
BM: Uh, no.
NN: Aren't you related to the "NoName" family?
BM: Yes.
NN: How are you related?
BM: I'm the daughter.
NN: Is she related to them, too?
BM: Who? (of course I knew, I was just messing with her by now)
NN: That girl that looks like you.
NN: Is she kin?
BM: Kin? (snort snort)
NN: You know, relations.
BM: No
NN: No cousin?
BM: No
NN: She sure looks like you.
NN: What's your last name again?
BM: Mimi
NN: How come it's not "NoName"?
At this point Beachy Mimi is getting a little tired of this conversation/interrogation that started over a pumpkin topiary.
Evil Beachy Mimi wants to say "Mind your own business."
Jesus wants me to be kind and just answer her questions. I've been thinking of starting a little Bible Study and including these ladies. I've got just the one
BOUNDRIES
These are sweet old ladies that mean well. All they have to do is watch soaps, talk to their deaf husbands, watch my house or the geriatric frat house...also across the street.
Personally, I think they are much more interesting. In fact, I've been wondering...are they all related? Fathers and son? Brothers?
Hmmm. BOUNDRIES. I guess I need to attend my own Bible Study.
Status Report from Beachy Hospital
Hi, Peeps!
The Beachy house is improving but not quite back up to the usual 100%.
I thought I would share with you some photos of the hard work Peepone did decorating my tiny little bachelorette pad porch. She rocks.
She also brought me a Sonic coke and a Jr. hamburger--mustard and ketchup only.
It was SOOO good.
I don't spend alot on decorations anymore. These are left-overs from last year.
It isn't easy finding giant fake corn, I tell ya.
I'm not big on the scary Halloween. I like the Old Fashioned Halloween when you just dressed up as a character and bumbed the neighbors for candy. It was safe.
However, I just couldn't pass up this spider.
Peepone made this totally rockin' topiary out of these poor pumpkins.
Then, with more leftovers, she fixed up my little summer table. Notice the pig!
If you notice in the window. SOMEONE is really wanting to get in the picture. He found the whole thing extremely entertaining.
I love my nosy neighbors. I give them lots of fodder with my comings and goings, and they are always walking in front of my house in little groups trying to see if they can see me, the cat, or anything else going on in here. They don't see much.
Well, neighbor across the street had two little jack-o-lanterns on her porch that were very cute.
Apparently, she was quite upset that Peepone put more on MY porch that she had on HERS...and she took them inside.
I do hope this is not one of those neighborhoods where neighbor tries to outdo neighbor.
Good Grief.
I smell a battle.
The Beachy house is improving but not quite back up to the usual 100%.
I thought I would share with you some photos of the hard work Peepone did decorating my tiny little bachelorette pad porch. She rocks.
She also brought me a Sonic coke and a Jr. hamburger--mustard and ketchup only.
It was SOOO good.
I don't spend alot on decorations anymore. These are left-overs from last year.
It isn't easy finding giant fake corn, I tell ya.
I'm not big on the scary Halloween. I like the Old Fashioned Halloween when you just dressed up as a character and bumbed the neighbors for candy. It was safe.
However, I just couldn't pass up this spider.
Peepone made this totally rockin' topiary out of these poor pumpkins.
Then, with more leftovers, she fixed up my little summer table. Notice the pig!
If you notice in the window. SOMEONE is really wanting to get in the picture. He found the whole thing extremely entertaining.
I love my nosy neighbors. I give them lots of fodder with my comings and goings, and they are always walking in front of my house in little groups trying to see if they can see me, the cat, or anything else going on in here. They don't see much.
Well, neighbor across the street had two little jack-o-lanterns on her porch that were very cute.
Apparently, she was quite upset that Peepone put more on MY porch that she had on HERS...and she took them inside.
I do hope this is not one of those neighborhoods where neighbor tries to outdo neighbor.
Good Grief.
I smell a battle.
Once Upon a Time...
...I had a thought to blog about right here. Today. On this spot. Now.
Sometime during the night, gremlins snuck in and stuffed my head with cotton and left red-hot candy in my throat.
They ate all my food, drank all my cokes and left me to die.
They also took my brain.
It will be TOTALLY useless to them so I think they'll bring it back in a few hours.
If the high fever doesn't get me first.
Gremlin report later...
Sometime during the night, gremlins snuck in and stuffed my head with cotton and left red-hot candy in my throat.
They ate all my food, drank all my cokes and left me to die.
They also took my brain.
It will be TOTALLY useless to them so I think they'll bring it back in a few hours.
If the high fever doesn't get me first.
Gremlin report later...
Happy Birthday, Parental Unit
Aren't you Peeps about sick of all the birthday celebrations at the Beachy House?
It is really a busy time of year for us.
I must, however, give a tribute to the Parental Unit. She is 86.
When I first began blogging, I was a hostage in Florida condo with Parental Unit and her crockpot. For a month.
It was a looong month between morning coffee wafting through the air at 4 AM and the STENCH of pot roast in the crockpot.
I haven't fixed anything in my crockpot since I escaped, and haven't eaten pot roast either.
ANYWAY, we are very fortunate that we still have Parental Unit and she is in great health. Her only problem is arthritis which cramps her "going", but not much.
In August of this year she finally retired. Yes, retired. She has been working her whole life. She loves to dress up and I think she worked all these later years just so she could shop, buy and wear new outfits. She's pretty much a hoot.
There are days when the arthritis is so bad she is FUSSY. CRANKY. As is the family takes turns calling her on different days so we all won't be put through the wringer every single day until the Motrin kicks in.
It's called survival...for us.
Until this summer, she drove a Mini-Cooper with fake bullet holes on the back fender and spinners on the wheels. When she traded cars, those bullet holes "washed off" in the car wash and the manufacturer doesn't make spinners for her new wheel size. Heh Heh
It's called survival.
For her celebration at 85, we had a big dinner party with family, friends and old photographs. It was great.
This year she just wants to go to Florida for a few weeks and veg out. I'd say she has earned that right.
The only problem with that is she can't go alone.
Guess who is spending Thanksgiving in Florida!!! Parental Unit, me and the crockpot. It makes me weepy.
She keeps the thermostat on 86. I guess one degree for each year of her life.
I love you, Parental Unit, crockpot and all, and I don't say that lightly. You've given our family...fits at times, but more wisdom from your "Southernisms" than we will ever remember. You are the "main dish" on our dinnertable, and life would be so dull and boring without you and your precious little set ways.
So, grab your beach towel, bathing suit and romance novel and we'll go to the beach!
It is really a busy time of year for us.
I must, however, give a tribute to the Parental Unit. She is 86.
When I first began blogging, I was a hostage in Florida condo with Parental Unit and her crockpot. For a month.
It was a looong month between morning coffee wafting through the air at 4 AM and the STENCH of pot roast in the crockpot.
I haven't fixed anything in my crockpot since I escaped, and haven't eaten pot roast either.
ANYWAY, we are very fortunate that we still have Parental Unit and she is in great health. Her only problem is arthritis which cramps her "going", but not much.
In August of this year she finally retired. Yes, retired. She has been working her whole life. She loves to dress up and I think she worked all these later years just so she could shop, buy and wear new outfits. She's pretty much a hoot.
There are days when the arthritis is so bad she is FUSSY. CRANKY. As is the family takes turns calling her on different days so we all won't be put through the wringer every single day until the Motrin kicks in.
It's called survival...for us.
Until this summer, she drove a Mini-Cooper with fake bullet holes on the back fender and spinners on the wheels. When she traded cars, those bullet holes "washed off" in the car wash and the manufacturer doesn't make spinners for her new wheel size. Heh Heh
It's called survival.
For her celebration at 85, we had a big dinner party with family, friends and old photographs. It was great.
This year she just wants to go to Florida for a few weeks and veg out. I'd say she has earned that right.
The only problem with that is she can't go alone.
Guess who is spending Thanksgiving in Florida!!! Parental Unit, me and the crockpot. It makes me weepy.
She keeps the thermostat on 86. I guess one degree for each year of her life.
I love you, Parental Unit, crockpot and all, and I don't say that lightly. You've given our family...fits at times, but more wisdom from your "Southernisms" than we will ever remember. You are the "main dish" on our dinnertable, and life would be so dull and boring without you and your precious little set ways.
So, grab your beach towel, bathing suit and romance novel and we'll go to the beach!
Happy Birthday, Princess
Eleven years ago today, the doctor assisted me in delivering you...what? what do you mean HE delivered you. I was right there. He WAS trying to push me out of the way, but Mimi has very sharp elbows and I was holding my own.
If that old bull moose nurse had not interfered, we'd had it made.
I had a camera.
Maybe someday, when you are 50 or so, your mother will let you watch. Mimi TOOK HIM DOWN. Not so much the bull moose nurse.
SHE whisked you away. I just wanted to touch your little hand. Spoilsport.
For the past eleven years, it has been my delight...my joy...to be with you.
Your mom is the icing on my cake. You are my sparkly candle. I love you. Mimster.
If that old bull moose nurse had not interfered, we'd had it made.
I had a camera.
Maybe someday, when you are 50 or so, your mother will let you watch. Mimi TOOK HIM DOWN. Not so much the bull moose nurse.
SHE whisked you away. I just wanted to touch your little hand. Spoilsport.
For the past eleven years, it has been my delight...my joy...to be with you.
Your mom is the icing on my cake. You are my sparkly candle. I love you. Mimster.
Reporting for Duty, General
One of my greatest earthly joys is , The Princess. She is having a birthday week blowout in the days leading up to the Palooza, itself.
The Princess loves to be around all her family and likes them to go with her to birthday celebrations whether they be dog shows, trips to the beach, camping, shopping, zoos or amusement parks.
This has not been a problem until this year. Pa has a new wife. Wife has kids.
Mimi doesn't have a BOYFRIEND, MUCH LESS A HUSBAND, and one kid, Queen B. But, because I am Mimi of the Year, I chose to go to support one of my greatest earthly joys on her special day DESPITE THE TRAUMA I was going to have to endure.
All generals know you must have a researched battle plan before you enter the theatre of action. So, Mimi began to use strategy and a cunning plan to win, YES, WIN THIS SORTIE FOR ALL GRANDMOTHERS OF AMERICA. That is, those grandmothers whose ex-husbands show up with a new wife. Am I making my point?
1. Plan all escape routes
2. Plan that family P will not be in same vehicle as family Beachy
With that solved it was time for action of a different kind. Battle Dress Uniforms or BDU's.
I went in a store where the lady knows me well. There were a couple of other shoppers in there...GREAT. BACKUP is GOOD.
I said, "Storelady (name disguised to protect her)I need emergency help. Ex-husband is bringing new wife to birthday function for the Princess. I DON'T want him back, but I gotta look better than she does."
The other ladies in the store got all in a tizzy and said "Yes. Yes you do. We know just what you are talking about."
So, thus began the race of tops, bottoms, necklaces, earrings....you get the drift. If my makeup had been with me they would have done that, too. I tried on, discarded, tried on, discarded for about 20 minutes until they felt they had two reasonable options. Both were on sale.
I left with a sack of goodies and instructions on how to wear what with which jewelry, perfume and lipstick color.
Beachy Mimi reporting for battle.
The Next Day.
The natives were restless and circling the area in scouting positions. Someone spied the enemy and said "sighting". Everyone ran and got into place and the P family walks in.
In wanting to keep this a sweet, precious blog, let's just say pretend granny wore RED PUFFY VEST WITH HORIZONTAL STRIPE SHIRT AND CROCS. AND A VERY SWEET SMILE. She had no idea she had just been trounced and beaten like an old dusty rug.
I did my private little victory dance and new wife followed me around all day. She still thinks we can be BFF's. NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNnnnnOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooo
The Princess loves to be around all her family and likes them to go with her to birthday celebrations whether they be dog shows, trips to the beach, camping, shopping, zoos or amusement parks.
This has not been a problem until this year. Pa has a new wife. Wife has kids.
Mimi doesn't have a BOYFRIEND, MUCH LESS A HUSBAND, and one kid, Queen B. But, because I am Mimi of the Year, I chose to go to support one of my greatest earthly joys on her special day DESPITE THE TRAUMA I was going to have to endure.
All generals know you must have a researched battle plan before you enter the theatre of action. So, Mimi began to use strategy and a cunning plan to win, YES, WIN THIS SORTIE FOR ALL GRANDMOTHERS OF AMERICA. That is, those grandmothers whose ex-husbands show up with a new wife. Am I making my point?
1. Plan all escape routes
2. Plan that family P will not be in same vehicle as family Beachy
With that solved it was time for action of a different kind. Battle Dress Uniforms or BDU's.
I went in a store where the lady knows me well. There were a couple of other shoppers in there...GREAT. BACKUP is GOOD.
I said, "Storelady (name disguised to protect her)I need emergency help. Ex-husband is bringing new wife to birthday function for the Princess. I DON'T want him back, but I gotta look better than she does."
The other ladies in the store got all in a tizzy and said "Yes. Yes you do. We know just what you are talking about."
So, thus began the race of tops, bottoms, necklaces, earrings....you get the drift. If my makeup had been with me they would have done that, too. I tried on, discarded, tried on, discarded for about 20 minutes until they felt they had two reasonable options. Both were on sale.
I left with a sack of goodies and instructions on how to wear what with which jewelry, perfume and lipstick color.
Beachy Mimi reporting for battle.
The Next Day.
The natives were restless and circling the area in scouting positions. Someone spied the enemy and said "sighting". Everyone ran and got into place and the P family walks in.
In wanting to keep this a sweet, precious blog, let's just say pretend granny wore RED PUFFY VEST WITH HORIZONTAL STRIPE SHIRT AND CROCS. AND A VERY SWEET SMILE. She had no idea she had just been trounced and beaten like an old dusty rug.
I did my private little victory dance and new wife followed me around all day. She still thinks we can be BFF's. NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNnnnnOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooo
Gentlemen, The Envelope, Please...
Great Advice from the Peeps!
In the last several hours, I have consumed fried chicken, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and a junior banana split from Sonic. Oh, and purple hull peas.
For my health and all.
The tummy is full so the humor should be restored by morning.
I was actually hoping to get some of your favorite recipes out of this but I didn't get specific enough with my whining.
Beachy Mimi is on the mend and I hope all you Peeps have a Fabulous Fall Weekend!
Feel free to drop by with your favorite recipes! Not that I am begging...much.
For my health and all.
The tummy is full so the humor should be restored by morning.
I was actually hoping to get some of your favorite recipes out of this but I didn't get specific enough with my whining.
Beachy Mimi is on the mend and I hope all you Peeps have a Fabulous Fall Weekend!
Feel free to drop by with your favorite recipes! Not that I am begging...much.
Fussy Mimi
WARNING: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Hello, Therapy Group. My name is Beachy Mimi and I am FUSSY.
I'm not sure what's up with that.
Perhaps it is post-birthday sugar depletion. Hormones. Lack of sleep. Too much sleep. Not enough cokes. Too many cokes...you see where I am going with this.
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS WRONG.
I've mentioned before that as I have gotten older, I take myself much less seriously than in years past. That is, I don't stress over what I consider small stuff.
I quit wearing a watch. My house doesn't have to be perfect. Laundry might or might not pile up for a day or seven.
I try to focus on the Things That Matter...Bible study, prayer, relationships, Sonic.
I very seldom get Truly Irritated With Little Things.
Well, someone has looked at me wrong or something. For two days I've been a whiny, gump-head, allergy-nose-blowing, throbbing-headache-having, ugly-crying-jagger, bad-hair-having, hater-of-everything-in-my-closet, mani-pedi-lacking bundle of JOY...NOT.
Aren't you glad you stopped by?
Plus, the hair that got lasered is now growing in abundance out my chin. Now there's a pretty picture. Add OCD tweezing to the list.
Is there a solution? How do I get out of my Selfish Pity-Party?
COMFORT FOOD.
Yep, works for me!!
I need help, Peeps. What is your favorite comfort food? Or comfort meal?
I can't even decide which comfort food to abuse. Please, give me some ideas.
After I splurge, I'm sure I will be in a better mood.
Thanks, YOU ARE THE BEST!
Hello, Therapy Group. My name is Beachy Mimi and I am FUSSY.
I'm not sure what's up with that.
Perhaps it is post-birthday sugar depletion. Hormones. Lack of sleep. Too much sleep. Not enough cokes. Too many cokes...you see where I am going with this.
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS WRONG.
I've mentioned before that as I have gotten older, I take myself much less seriously than in years past. That is, I don't stress over what I consider small stuff.
I quit wearing a watch. My house doesn't have to be perfect. Laundry might or might not pile up for a day or seven.
I try to focus on the Things That Matter...Bible study, prayer, relationships, Sonic.
I very seldom get Truly Irritated With Little Things.
Well, someone has looked at me wrong or something. For two days I've been a whiny, gump-head, allergy-nose-blowing, throbbing-headache-having, ugly-crying-jagger, bad-hair-having, hater-of-everything-in-my-closet, mani-pedi-lacking bundle of JOY...NOT.
Aren't you glad you stopped by?
Plus, the hair that got lasered is now growing in abundance out my chin. Now there's a pretty picture. Add OCD tweezing to the list.
Is there a solution? How do I get out of my Selfish Pity-Party?
COMFORT FOOD.
Yep, works for me!!
I need help, Peeps. What is your favorite comfort food? Or comfort meal?
I can't even decide which comfort food to abuse. Please, give me some ideas.
After I splurge, I'm sure I will be in a better mood.
Thanks, YOU ARE THE BEST!
Happy Birthday to The King
Today is The King's Happy Birthday.
I'm glad you are my son-in-law. You rock.
You are a great husband and a great daddy.
I know we will have the service for your PawPaw today, but despite that, I hope your day is filled with joy and peace.
And, you have many many more birthdays.
I'm glad you are my son-in-law. You rock.
You are a great husband and a great daddy.
I know we will have the service for your PawPaw today, but despite that, I hope your day is filled with joy and peace.
And, you have many many more birthdays.
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