DSM V: Dropping Disorder

I have a dropping problem. In the last few weeks I have dropped and broken:

1) A Costco-sized jar of pasta sauce
2) A peanut butter jar of Katie's ranch dressing
3) Two cups of hot tea
4) A jar of garlic (hi-five for plastic jars)

AND

5) My toothbrush in the toilet.



You think I'm kidding. I'm not. Soon, I imagine, it will become a disorder and then they'll create a pill for it.




Until then, I'm not going to take this laying down. I have a plan. I imagine it like the Ove Glove:


Only BETTER!

Each finger tip will have a circular Velcro patch perfect for no-slipping gripping. Of course, I'll have to put Velcro on all my breakables as well but that's a small price to pay.

It that doesn't work, I'll move on to full hazmat gear.




** DSM = The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Dropping things is not (currently) a mental disorder nor is there a DSM V YET.

How to eat an entire plate of cookies in a single sitting AKA Conversations with my mother

Parents are a beautiful thing. Even more beautiful is when you're old enough to move out and no longer have to sit through long conversations with them of no particular importance. Enter... the obligatory weekly phone call. I often try to use our chats as a time to do something else constructive. This week I baked while we talked.



Don't get me wrong, my mother is an amazingly sweet person and in all honesty I probably exhibit some of the very qualities that drive me nuts about her. My mother's phone calls, however, are not her best quality. Anyone will tell you this. In fact, they are problematic for several reasons.


#1 Potential Hearing Loss. Not only is she loud, but also high-pitched like tornado or tsunami warnings.

Mother: HI LOVIE. HOW ARE YOU?!

Me (frantically thumbing the volume button): I'm good. Mom, can you talk a little softer?

Mother: THERE, IS THAT BETTER?

Me: Nevermind.




#2 Flipping the Script. Things I don't think I never said but may did or maybe didn't.

Mother: DO YOU WANT ME TO SEND YOU FLOUR SO YOU CAN MAKE MORE COOKIES?

Me: I have flour. Thanks, though.

Mother: DO YOU WANT MORE?

Me: No thanks, mom. I have two bags.

Mother: I'LL SEND YOU SOME.

Me: Mom, I have some and there are stores in Hawaii.

Mother: YOU DON'T LIKE COOKIES ANYMORE? I THOUGHT YOU LOVED COOKIES?



# 3 Narco-sleepy: A bi-product of boredom.

Mother (after a monologue about Janice whose son-in-law Jack convinced her to take lean against her house that she then couldn't pay back so she moved out and now the house is bank-owned and there are weeds in the front yard and blah blah blah): SO I DON'T KNOW WHERE JANICE IS BUT DO YOU THINK I SHOULD CALL HER?

Me: ...

Mother: SO, SHOULD I CALL JANICE?

Me: Who is Janice?




::Sigh::



Conversations with my mother AKA how I manage to eat an entire plate of cookies in a single sitting. Good thing I have more flour.

Do you ever find yourself in a convo trap? What happens?

P.S. Such convos always remind me of the musical RENT.

The Inevitable

Are you ever in the middle of a conversation and suddenly think, “How the heck did we get here?” That definitely happened to me yesterday. My friend and I were driving back from lunch when I saw a woman slouched forward on a bench. Between the long red hair that hung covering her face and the absurdly empty block, scenes from Resident Evil, Night of the Living Dead, and the like, starting popping into my head. “Zombie alert,” I commented.

We kept going and the next thing I knew I heard myself vehemently arguing: “Zombies are a serious deal! He’d better come save you when (yes, I said when) they attack! I mean, you’ve done so much for him! That would be a serious deal breaker.”



And so goes a Saturday afternoon preparing for an impending zombie attack. Why, you ask? Why would we discuss this for 2 blocks? Eh, it could happen…maybe.

If I were a zombie, I’d try to be of the vegetarian variety. I imagine I’d drink a lot of this drink:
(warm rice milk, pure cacao powder, cinnamon, cracked pepper, honey, cumin, turmeric).

When feeling zombie-ish in real life, it’s a go-to staple! I like to call it “dirty hot chocolate”. It's based off of this recipe from Holy Cow.

I usually HATE scary movies. I had nightmares from watching The Strangers and I was upstairs and around the corner from the TV throughout most of the movie. I even may have gotten scared in a Boy Meets World remake of Scream when I was a kid. However, zombie movies are forever associated with a couple of good friends and therefore they are the one exception to my phobia.

Are you prepared for a zombie attack? What would you do?

Are there any movies you wouldn't normally love, but do?

Welcome from the Techno Challenged!

Hey-o bloggers and readers and cats who sleepily push buttons on computers. This is my attempt at putting balance and purposeful positivity in my life. Sometimes life gets bogged down with all the to-dos and all I see is a scrolling list in my head of all the things I’ve done, haven’t done, and still need to do. I lose sight of the great things like the ocean I live near, fun times with friends, my wonderful family, the yumminess of good food. You get my point. Does this happen to anyone else? Hopefully this will be a place to stop, breathe, and refocus my lens. Ironic, kind of, because in a sense I’ve added another thing to my to-do list! Ha! Eh, it’s a good to-do!

To say I’m horrible with technology is a woeful understatement. Quite literally computers stop working when I come near them. At work I often have to leave the room for things to print or download properly. It took me 3 hours to put this bleak thing together! Everyone was surprised when I lost my Mac virginity last week. It took me less than a day to put a virus on it complete with uncontrollable penises jumping across the screen. Calling tech support was fun.

“Um, I have all these penises popping up and I can’t stop them.”

I find this song very appropriate for me (even though I've never eaten bologna)! ☺



Do any of you blog? If so, do you remember your first attempt(s)?

Are you techno challenged?


Aloha,
mb