joeyfullystated

Sugar Assault

Posted on September 5, 2017 by joey

“Ooh, In the name of love…”

We went to the frickin grocery store on Friday. We did. We took Sassy to the football game and then we went to the Fresh Thyme and they don’t carry vegetable oil, because it’s bad for you and they only sell kleenexes that are good for the earth, so they’re no good for collecting human snot, although they’re perhaps good for exfoliation.

First thing in the morning on Saturday, The Mister went out and bought tissues, which I call kleenexes, but this is a misnomer, because I actually buy Puffs. He bought actual Kleenex brand kleenex because he is a logical, literal person. He forgot vegetable oil, but it doesn’t matter because his wife and daughters are giant snot monsters and it was nice they could breathe again.

On Sunday, we ran out of coffee creamer, but we did have enough vegetable oil to fry the chicken. Don’t try to tell me to fry chicken in some better-for-me oil, and if you even mention Corn Flake baking it instead, I will cut you.
Sunday dinner is supposed to be bad for you. Sunday dinners ought to include cornbread, laden with lard, and come served with swate tay. If you roast a chicken on Sunday, then you’re obligated to make gravy. Them’s the rules.

On Monday, our egg supply grew lean. Milk was, as Moo says, “Too light.” We still needed coffee creamer and vegetable oil.

My issue with grocery stores is probably the pettiest but it’s real, okay? NOT ONE OF THEM CARRIES ALL THE THINGS.
This here and that there, and those things at the bad place, and who the fuck pays $6 for a quart of yogurt? And why are none of these places nearer? And what kind of store runs out of produce bags!? FML And I don’t work here, so either you bring out a cashier or I walk away from this entire cart of food.
And and and!

The Mister said absurd shit to me like, “Just pick that stuff up when you’re out in the morning.”
Hmph.

This morning Sassy told me we also needed sugar, so I took my husband’s advice and I went to the Kroger while I was already out. I’ve never been a fan of Krogering, but now that they’ve closed my Marsh, Kroger is the nearest and least of all evils, so I went there. Props to Kroger, they actually put all the dairy in one place. Unfortunately, they do not have a suitable milk for us. Meaning, I bought some stupid little milk and even though I went to the grocery store today, I will have to go again in the near future.

But worst of all, this happened:

sugar assault

That’s what goin out first thing on a Tuesday gets me. How’s your Tuesday goin?

Posted in Personally | Tagged food, Moo, Sassy, The Mister | 59 Comments

Capricious with a Chance of Cheeky

Posted on September 1, 2017 by joey

Outside, it’s sixty degrees and quite blustery. We slept with our windows cracked and that was some good sleepin. When I woke up, I wanted a sweatshirt, socks, and somethin to eat, but if you can imagine, not a one of those things was in my bed.

The Mister had set coffee on my nightstand, but unfortunately he’d made weak over-creamed coffee. He’s so butt hurt when I don’t like his coffee. You’d think his coffee would be as strong and reliable as he is, but no. You’d think that’d make him not like my coffee, stands to reason, but he always says he does. Omaword. What if we both hate the other’s coffee and I’m just not nice enough to pretend?

I know this couple He & She and She bitches about He, but He has no complaints about She at all, not in twenty years, and the way I see it that’s another reason to bitch about He. Either He’s not paying attention or He’s lying.

The Mister is also a good liar. I wish he made coffee as well as he lies. It’s probably better that he makes shitty coffee more than he lies.
He makes fab coffee in the press. Would it be rude to tell him to do that always? It would, wouldn’t it?

Besides, it’s the thought that counts.
Like when he thoroughly washed my cast iron skillet. SO helpful. *cries*

Omagod, remember that time Drew cooked frozen chicken nuggets in my pie pan?
If you or someone you know has been victimized by a cookware mishap, call me.

I should always make the coffee. You can do it your way or have it done for you, but you can’t have it done your way. — Mottern Household motto #2

Exception: Towel-Folding.
The towels in this house are folded half-half-thirds with the folded side facing out and stacked NEATLY and EVENLY. You can wear your pink hair and your piercings and your mismatched socks and listen to death metal and play violent video games while you eat cheese flavored corn-processed cardboard through your black lipstick, but you will honor your mother and her mother and her mother before her by folding the fucking towels the way I fucking tell you to! Goddamn!

I give outstanding towel-folding seminars.

Anyway, this weather is phenomenal! I’m gonna make chicken n’ dumplins for dinner and bake a cake. Mmm, cake. I hope The Mister likes them ferrealiously.

Happy Friday Everyone!

Posted in Personally | Tagged coffee, food, happiness, lifestyle, marriage, nature, parenting, The Mister | 74 Comments

#ThursdayDoors — On the Beaten Path

Posted on August 31, 2017 by joey

Thursday Doors is a weekly feature allowing door lovers to come together to admire and share their favorite door photos from around the world. Feel free to join in on the fun by creating your own Thursday Doors post each week and then sharing it, between Thursday morning and Saturday noon (North American eastern time), by using the blue link-up button below.

Yeah, I’m still Joey, not Norm, but I get to be a sorta Guest-Norm for #ThursdayDoors this week.
I’m delighted to be your guest host!
Let’s look at some doors!

Today’s doors (or gates if you prefer) are neither sentimental nor spectacular. They are a testament to progress.

On my nostalgic trip to Ball State University this summer, I insisted we walk The Cow Path. The Cow Path? Yes, The Cow Path. Not where cows graze, but rather, where students trod.

I’d say off the beaten path, but it’s literally a beaten path of about half a mile.

A shortcut. An outdoor hallway.

The Cow Path runs parallel to the main thoroughfare, but behind buildings.

These doors, just four of many like them, separate The Cow Path from private residences.

When I arrived at Ball State some twenty-five years ago this month, I learned to walk The Cow Path. I walked The Cow Path every day, multiple times a day, for the whole four years. I had music and gym on the other side of the street, but that’s it. The rest of my classes were on my side of the street and The Cow Path was the most direct route.

When it was below freezing and the wind was full-on, The Cow Path was not only quicker, but warmer, too.

Back then, the elders spoke of the days of yore, when The Cow Path wasn’t even paved, when it was comprised mostly of well-worn grass. The university did not design this path. In the beginning, it was student-made. Cow Path Theory is a thing.

Upon rediscovering The Cow Path, fences, doors, and all, I proclaimed to my children, “When I was here, there was no sidewalk, no pretty trees or wildflowers. It was mere asphalt then.”

Want to join in on the fun and share your own Thursday Doors post with other door lovers? Click on the blue button below to add the link to your Thursday Doors post to our link-up list.

Don’t forget that if you share your blog posts on Twitter and Instagram, use the #ThursdayDoors hashtag to help others find you, and please do take a few minutes to visit some of the Thursday Door posts shared by others.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Thursday Doors | 78 Comments

One-Liner Wednesday — OMG MOO LOLZ

Posted on August 30, 2017 by joey

Picked Moo up from afters the other day. Soon as she got in the car, she said, “I’m glad I’m not doin cheer anymore.”
“Yeah? Why? What’re they doin?”
“Going to a football game!”

I cackled. I laughed so hard, I cried.

“No thank you.”

Some girls just wanna shout, boing, and tumble without cause.

One-Liner Wednesday is brought to you by LindaGHill

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged Moo, One-Liner Wednesday, parenting | 44 Comments

And on a Tuesday No Less

Posted on August 29, 2017 by joey

I’ve blogged many times about transition, as I feel I am almost always in transition of some sort. Transition versus what? Being in a rut? Ick.

I believe it’s best to stop and breathe, care for ourselves, reflect — but not too long, or we could fall into despair and that is surely the worst rut of all. Nothing fabulous ever happens to people who wallow in sorrow.
“Oh, woe is me.”
“Woe is all of us, motherfucker. Onward!”

The thing about transition is while you may know what ended, you cannot know what’s coming. The end of anything means new beginnings for other things.

Every single time I didn’t get what I wanted, some new wonderful opportunity presented itself. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Better and MORE.

Sure, we should make plans, but the best of ourselves is revealed when we take risks.
You can play devil’s advocate with this theory, but my opinion is immovable, because reflection on my own experiences fills me with the kind of hope I simply cannot ignore.

There’s a special sort of patience required, because new stuff doesn’t come on our own timeline. In the meantime, change can be unsettling and the unknown can be frightening.

If I think about the very best things in my life, the things that bring me the most happiness, most are not things I would have chosen for myself at an earlier time. They appeared as risks I took at exactly the right time.

I imagine life is like Choose Your Own Adventure, but ultimately, there’s a path we can only detour so far from for so long. Some people get clearer maps, better lighting, or smoother roads, but it seems to me there’s always a path. (I don’t care how well you think you know someone, you do not know what their road is really like.)

We’re so self-oriented, we think it’s all about ourselves, but it’s not. At our best, we create, inspire, motivate, help, teach. There is a reason for it all. Yes, we may have made the wrong choice, but new directions are always forthcoming. And the times we felt lost? Turns out, that time was crucial.

Lots of times, we’re lost without knowing it. I mean, people actually say this — “He lost his way.” It’s not always obvious. Before the transition, we feel that incredible dissatisfaction, yet when the end comes, we freak out and hate it. We’re so weird. Again, I say, make that freak-out-hate-it part brief, because after that, it’s time to embrace it.

Embrace change by letting shit GOOOOOOOOOO!

You did not enjoy the drama.
You couldn’t stand the pain.
It was uncomfortable.
You weren’t happy.
You didn’t want that.
It never felt right.
It was never yours.
It did not fulfill you.

This is a really big part of happiness.
Looking back like:
It sure was good, until it wasn’t.
I am glad the suffering is over.
I can focus my attention elsewhere now.
We had some good times.
I learned a lot from that.
What a relief not to deal with that crap anymore.

I make it clear to the universe that I am receptive. There are things I like to do to improve my juju and feel engaged in the process. These things go a long way toward fostering patience and easing anxiety, so I do them all the time, but when I’m in transition, I am more mindful.

I make it a point to sit in silence. (The answers are all inside you, or they are all 42, I dunno, either way, it helps.) Sometimes when I’m scattered, The Mister will take me for a drive so I can stare out different windows. It’s good. Outside is better when the weather’s ideal.
I take up new hobbies. Bake to fill an empty house, quilt through insomnia, swim through deployments, volunteer through children leaving home.
I purge that which is no longer useful. It’s just plain good to free up space. I realize that what is coming, what I want, isn’t material, but it’s a metaphorical clearing, and I believe it matters.
I make myself more available. Engage in chit chat with strangers. Look for signs, listen for connections. (I’m guessing extroverts don’t need help in this category.)
Practice gratitude. Daily and often. Move with gratitude, eat with it, drink with it, sleep with it — do it all with gratitude. Look for silver linings and re-frame that shit. “This is the biggest scab I’ve ever had! My body is truly incredible!” Some people can’t even make their own scabs, y’all.

Anyway, I’ve gone all guru Joey on you, and on a Tuesday, but that’s what I wanted to write, and so I did. Thank you for reading.

Posted in Personally, Random Musings | Tagged anxiety, gratitude, happiness, lifestyle | 62 Comments

But I Don’t Want to Call!

Posted on August 28, 2017 by joey

One of the things I hate to do is make phone calls.

Seriously. I do occasionally enjoy chatting to friends and family, and I never mind being paid to make business calls, but in my own life, I dread calling businesses.

The sheer volume of information we have to provide and endure to accomplish such small tasks!
I don’t wanna!

“Thank you for calling The Yield Field. Please listen to our phone menu in its entirety as it has been changed. Press one for English. Para Espanol, o prima dos.”
BEEEEEP.
“To check the status of an order, press one. To place a new order, press two. To report –”
BEEEEEP.
“To order produce, press one.”
BEEEEEP.
“A customer service representative will be with you shortly.”

I hear a series of clicks that makes me think I will be disconnected.

“Thank you for calling The Yield Field. How can I help you today?”
“Hello. I’m calling to order a bag of carrots.”
“Have you ordered carrots from us before?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for returning to us again for all your produce needs. How can I help?”
“I’d like to order some organic carrots, please.”
“Wonderful. We’re having a special on the Chatenays, three pounds for ten dollars. Or Scarlet Nantes, four point five pounds for twelve dollars.”
“Some plain old Danvers will do just fine.”
“A thrifty purchase, one point five pounds for three dollars.”
“Great.”

I hear much typing. Perhaps there are too many choices. Perhaps the person on the other end of the line has begun blogging.

“Do you have a color preference?”
“I do not.”
“Must all the carrots be the same color?”
“No. All colors are fine.”
“Excellent. That qualifies you to receive a pound of turnips or parsnips for half price. Would you prefer turnips or parsnips?”
“I don’t want either. I just want carrots.”
“I understand. Although less popular than our carrots, our turnips and parsnips are a powerhouse of nutrition and offer incredible flexibility in cooking. I could enclose a brochure which includes recipes for either one.”
“I just want carrots.”
“Okay. If you change your mind before your order ships, simply call us back and we’ll gladly update your delivery to include turnips or parsnips.”
“Okay.”
“How many pounds of carrots would you like?”
“Three.”
“Alright, thank you. The charge is six dollars. How will you be paying today?”
“Debit card.”
“Wonderful. Thank you. Let me transfer you to our payment center. Just a moment.”

After four minutes of ear-shattering flute music, someone picks up. By this time, I’ve forgotten what I’m even waiting for.
“Who’s a good dog? Yes, you so good dog!”

“Thank you for waiting. I see we have an order for three pounds of carrots totaling six dollars.”
“Yes.”
“I see you’re not interested in our exclusive half-off turnip and parsnip offers today?”
“No.”
“Very well then. Can I get your name?”
“Jolene, J-O-L-E-N-E. Mottern, M-O-T-T-E-R-N.”
“Thank you. Would you please give me your password so I may verify you’re the account holder?”
“Ire.”
“Thank you, Ms Motorin. I see you have ordered from us previously. Would you like to use the card attached to the account?”
“Yes, please.”

I listen to rapid typing and a series of beeps.

“Thank you. I’m going to send you now to our shipping department. An associate there will provide you with a confirmation number and delivery information. It has been a pleasure speaking to you today and I hope we can count on your continued patronage.”

Oh, you know what’s coming! It’s my last chance to get half-off those turnips or parsnips! It’s someone asking me if after I’ve spent twenty minutes on the phone, wouldn’t I like to complete an automated survey of the service I received?

No, I didn’t really call and order carrots today, but I KNOW YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged rant | 82 Comments

Sunflowers for Sunday

Posted on August 27, 2017 by joey

I enjoyed my sunflowers so much last year, I planted even more this year: giant 10-12 foot, 4-6 foot, and dwarf varieties. I was never a big fan of sunflowers before I grew them. Their bright, happy faces are such a cheerful sight, they won me over. Nothing like being welcomed home by smiling sunflowers.

This time last year, a tornado came and thrashed them, causing an early death. Still, I got two volunteers in the tomato bed. One much smaller and one empty.

The dwarf variety opened first, and they’re butter yellow. They produce 2-3 blooms per stalk. They’d make for a great rear border in a sunny spot.

The middlin sort are about face-to-face with me and are much easier to photograph.

The size of the seed heads on both those varieties truly vary, but with the giants, the dark seed heads are enormous and the petals are more of a fringe. When the birds and bees are done with the seeds and pollen, the center is orange.

The giants are my favorite, almost as tall as the basketball rim. I included a photo of my hand reaching up to one, and to get the scale right, I have to tell you, the stakes that gird them are only six-feet tall, so those alone are over my head — their heavy heads make them droop almost another foot. They’re amazing, towering over us. Not all of them have opened yet, but so far, the tallest three have.

I hope even if you’re not a garden geek, you can appreciate their glory.

Next year, I plan to plant EVEN MORE.

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged gardening | 74 Comments

Blurry

Posted on August 25, 2017 by joey

Love is blind.
He’s also deaf.
I love the way the lingering scent of him still emanates from his tee-shirts even as I fold them fresh from the wash.
I love the roughness of his hands, the softness of his feet, and the taste of his bottom lip.

But he is a blind, deaf asshole.

I contend that The Mister may hear half of what I say to him. Yes, he has some hearing loss. Yes, he could do with an ear flushing. But some of it is a choice to shut out my chatter.

This must render me more attractive. I know that I personally find many people attractive until they open their mouths.

Recently, we’ve all become aware of The Mister’s blindness. Even with his bifocals on, he could not see the spinach in my teeth or the gray in my hair.
God love ‘im.
I must’ve been a beautiful blur to him.

When we were first married, he’d roll over in the morning and tell me how beautiful I was and I would giggle and give him a shove. He still does this, only now I narrow my eyes and tell him he’s blind.

Bless his heart.

While Moo dragged me out into the sunlight to pluck all the weird whiskers that come with my wisdom, The Mister was blissfully unaware of how hairy his wife had become. I doubt he’d seen my spider veins, my torn cuticles, my rosacea, or anything else a person couldn’t see from ten feet away.

I teased him about this. I told him, “When you get your new glasses, you may find I am not the woman you think I am. It may be all too real for you.”

Moo laughed and laughed.

Then The Mister told Moo, “That’s okay. If it turns out she’s not pretty, don’t worry, your next mama will be.”

And he laughed alone.