Thursday, July 25, 2013
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Stamp Sets for Sale
Hi Stamping/Scrapbooking Friends!
I have25 14 stamp sets left for sale. See below. First come, first served! I am willing to ship. They're going fast!
Cindy
Happiness is Stampin' Up! $1
Trick or Treat $3
Halloween Backgrounds $3
Simple Birthday Thanks $5
Haunting Halloween (unmounted) $5
So Very $5
All Natural $5
Send a Celebration $5
Polka Dots and Paisley $5
Sidekick Sayings $5
By Air $5
Crayon Kids (plus a few extras) $10
Stella Stamper $10
Business Memos $7
Sold:
Best Yet $3
Perfect Presentation $5
Reverse Prints $5
All-Around Argyle $7
Shore Thing $5
Love It $5
Loads of Love Accessories $5
Ahoy, Matey $5
Very Punny $5
I have
Cindy
Happiness is Stampin' Up! $1
Trick or Treat $3
Halloween Backgrounds $3
Simple Birthday Thanks $5
Haunting Halloween (unmounted) $5
So Very $5
All Natural $5
Polka Dots and Paisley $5
Sidekick Sayings $5
By Air $5
Crayon Kids (plus a few extras) $10
Stella Stamper $10
Business Memos $7
Sold:
Best Yet $3
Perfect Presentation $5
Reverse Prints $5
All-Around Argyle $7
Shore Thing $5
Love It $5
Loads of Love Accessories $5
Ahoy, Matey $5
Very Punny $5
Saturday, June 8, 2013
My Constipated Brain and Big Kid Underpants
Sometimes as I experience life, I imagine I'm narrating a novel and I think, this (or that) would make a good blog post. Now, as I sit down in front of my blog, all the thoughts I had are all crammed into a knot in my constipated brain. What the heck happened?? lol.
As I mentioned on Facebook tonight, I took the kids to WalMart. After we got home, I had the kids go into separate areas to try on their new underwear over their current pair. They looked huge when I took the undies out of the packages and we had our doubts, but... Suddenly I hear Isaac laughing (which is a normal occurrence for that dear boy) and he comes out and they fit!! Allie's fit too!! We all laughed together and couldn't believe how much they've grown over the school year.
I don't know where today went, but since it didn't really start until 10:30am... I finished mowing the front lawn where I had to stop last night because I ran over Allie's glasses. In between a couple of long breaks I mowed the back yard, which I consider to be huge. Shane, with his long strides, can get it done in probably half an hour where it takes me all afternoon. (I wish he were still here!) Then I washed towels and sheets -- especially important after our recent stomach viruses -- be gone, germs, wherever you hide!
Allie is having a farewell/slumber party on Tuesday with 5 or 6 of her friends. She is obsessing over every detail. I talked her down from planning every single minute of the party and explained how perfectionism can set us up for disappointment. For example, what if the other girls don't want to watch the movie she picked out? She'll be devastated if she doesn't know when to let go and go with the flow. I've seen it before: she plans everything so carefully and is crushed when things don't go according to plan. I don't want for my dear daughter to hurt like that. After all, who can control everything? Only God can.
As I mentioned on Facebook tonight, I took the kids to WalMart. After we got home, I had the kids go into separate areas to try on their new underwear over their current pair. They looked huge when I took the undies out of the packages and we had our doubts, but... Suddenly I hear Isaac laughing (which is a normal occurrence for that dear boy) and he comes out and they fit!! Allie's fit too!! We all laughed together and couldn't believe how much they've grown over the school year.
I don't know where today went, but since it didn't really start until 10:30am... I finished mowing the front lawn where I had to stop last night because I ran over Allie's glasses. In between a couple of long breaks I mowed the back yard, which I consider to be huge. Shane, with his long strides, can get it done in probably half an hour where it takes me all afternoon. (I wish he were still here!) Then I washed towels and sheets -- especially important after our recent stomach viruses -- be gone, germs, wherever you hide!
Allie is having a farewell/slumber party on Tuesday with 5 or 6 of her friends. She is obsessing over every detail. I talked her down from planning every single minute of the party and explained how perfectionism can set us up for disappointment. For example, what if the other girls don't want to watch the movie she picked out? She'll be devastated if she doesn't know when to let go and go with the flow. I've seen it before: she plans everything so carefully and is crushed when things don't go according to plan. I don't want for my dear daughter to hurt like that. After all, who can control everything? Only God can.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Strangers Are Aptly Named
So.... a funny thing happened to me the other day when I was out shopping for a kilt. What? You didn't know I was interested in buying a kilt? Well, I guess I have kept that info a bit to myself some. Yes, I am interested in expanding my wardrobe options and as a guy, there are actually very little options for me, so I'm pursuing them. Anyway, my wardrobe is beside the point.
So.... I went to this specialty store the other day to shop for kilts. It's kind of a costume store with other novelty items like swords, pirate hats, magic wands, etc. I walk in to be greeted by the owner who I can't really describe as an aggressive salesperson, but she was definitely a personable person and had next to no personal space -- which I don't really have a problem with, but I just need to prepared for such an event.
She asks me if I need help and I tel her I'm interested in looking at kilts and a coworker told me to come by this place. I told the owner the name of the coworker and she said, "Oh.... you're the kilt guy." I'm the kilt guy? Really? I just walked into my first kilt store and I'm already known as the kilt guy. I admit -- I can leave impressions on people, but come on.... this was a bit ridiculous.
She goes and gets me a brown-shaded kilt and says, "Why don't you try this one on?" Instead of handing it to me, she proceeds to wrap her arms around my waste and put it on for me! Hey now, lady! I just met you!
She also now hands me what I've heard described with many names. It was a white long-sleeved shirt that people like pirates and old time poets (like Shakespeare) would wear. It was rather large on me and the long sleeves were "puffy." It had no collar, but it did have two top buttons like a polo shirt has. I took the shirt and the kilt which is now draped around my waist to the dressing room so I could at least put a shirt on with dignity. I took my sweater off (don't worry, I still had a t-shirt on) and put the "puffy" shirt on. I'd say I was starting to look like a authentic Scotsman, if it weren't for the fact that I really just looked like a middle-aged bald white guy dressed up in a Catholic girl uniform. I buttoned up the shirt mostly because I really had no idea how to wear the shirt and headed out to the main part of the store so my new best friend, the store owner, could assist me some more.
Ok, so if it hasn't already been an adventure, here's where it actually gets creepy. I suggest pregnant women and those with weak hearts stop reading now.
I get out to the main part of the store and the store owner comes over to check me out. She recognizes, as I did, that I look more like a Catholic school girl than an authentic Scotsman, so she proceeds to put the sash over my soldier and pin it on my shoulder with a broach. I told her that she was the first stranger to ever broach me. She must have felt a bonding a moment because I have no other explanation for it.
She looks up at me and asks me, "Are you fuzzy?" I briefly pause unsure what she means and how to answer. I'm generally not ever in a situation where I am at a loss for words, but I gotta tell ya, she really threw me on that one. I was about to answer her question with another question, something along the lines of "Excuse me? What do you mean?," but I never got a chance to get it out. She reaches over to my neck, unbuttons the top button of the "puffy" shirt, tugs down a little on my t-shirt, and says to me, "Yep, you're fine."
Now, here's the deal. I can generally handle a lot of situations with calm, rational acceptance, but this lady has crossed so many lines, I couldn't keep up counting them. I just stood there in amazement -- no words, no movement -- I had no response at my disposal, nothing in my arsenal, nothing I could even manufacture for such an event.
As I stood there in disbelief, she actually goes over to the rack to pick out a couple more kilts that I might like and try on. She hands them to me with eager anticipation for me to come back from the dressing room. I was like her new little Barbie doll she could dress in a variety of outfits. I have never been so scared in my life.
I had to get outta there. I proceeded to make up some excuse for leaving; I can't actually remember what it was anymore, but I might have said that she had so many options, that I should bring my wife back with me. Are you kidding me? No way I'm going back there if psycho-saleslady is working that day. At least, if I do go back, I really will take my wife so she can make sure no one else in the store gets to see how "fuzzy" I am.
Will I ever get a kilt? Well, maybe. Maybe not. But it sure is interesting shopping for one.
So.... I went to this specialty store the other day to shop for kilts. It's kind of a costume store with other novelty items like swords, pirate hats, magic wands, etc. I walk in to be greeted by the owner who I can't really describe as an aggressive salesperson, but she was definitely a personable person and had next to no personal space -- which I don't really have a problem with, but I just need to prepared for such an event.
She asks me if I need help and I tel her I'm interested in looking at kilts and a coworker told me to come by this place. I told the owner the name of the coworker and she said, "Oh.... you're the kilt guy." I'm the kilt guy? Really? I just walked into my first kilt store and I'm already known as the kilt guy. I admit -- I can leave impressions on people, but come on.... this was a bit ridiculous.
She goes and gets me a brown-shaded kilt and says, "Why don't you try this one on?" Instead of handing it to me, she proceeds to wrap her arms around my waste and put it on for me! Hey now, lady! I just met you!
She also now hands me what I've heard described with many names. It was a white long-sleeved shirt that people like pirates and old time poets (like Shakespeare) would wear. It was rather large on me and the long sleeves were "puffy." It had no collar, but it did have two top buttons like a polo shirt has. I took the shirt and the kilt which is now draped around my waist to the dressing room so I could at least put a shirt on with dignity. I took my sweater off (don't worry, I still had a t-shirt on) and put the "puffy" shirt on. I'd say I was starting to look like a authentic Scotsman, if it weren't for the fact that I really just looked like a middle-aged bald white guy dressed up in a Catholic girl uniform. I buttoned up the shirt mostly because I really had no idea how to wear the shirt and headed out to the main part of the store so my new best friend, the store owner, could assist me some more.
Ok, so if it hasn't already been an adventure, here's where it actually gets creepy. I suggest pregnant women and those with weak hearts stop reading now.
I get out to the main part of the store and the store owner comes over to check me out. She recognizes, as I did, that I look more like a Catholic school girl than an authentic Scotsman, so she proceeds to put the sash over my soldier and pin it on my shoulder with a broach. I told her that she was the first stranger to ever broach me. She must have felt a bonding a moment because I have no other explanation for it.
She looks up at me and asks me, "Are you fuzzy?" I briefly pause unsure what she means and how to answer. I'm generally not ever in a situation where I am at a loss for words, but I gotta tell ya, she really threw me on that one. I was about to answer her question with another question, something along the lines of "Excuse me? What do you mean?," but I never got a chance to get it out. She reaches over to my neck, unbuttons the top button of the "puffy" shirt, tugs down a little on my t-shirt, and says to me, "Yep, you're fine."
Now, here's the deal. I can generally handle a lot of situations with calm, rational acceptance, but this lady has crossed so many lines, I couldn't keep up counting them. I just stood there in amazement -- no words, no movement -- I had no response at my disposal, nothing in my arsenal, nothing I could even manufacture for such an event.
As I stood there in disbelief, she actually goes over to the rack to pick out a couple more kilts that I might like and try on. She hands them to me with eager anticipation for me to come back from the dressing room. I was like her new little Barbie doll she could dress in a variety of outfits. I have never been so scared in my life.
I had to get outta there. I proceeded to make up some excuse for leaving; I can't actually remember what it was anymore, but I might have said that she had so many options, that I should bring my wife back with me. Are you kidding me? No way I'm going back there if psycho-saleslady is working that day. At least, if I do go back, I really will take my wife so she can make sure no one else in the store gets to see how "fuzzy" I am.
Will I ever get a kilt? Well, maybe. Maybe not. But it sure is interesting shopping for one.
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