lifestyles of the (not yet) rich and famous

If I ever become famous, or infamous, and Trivial Pursuit once again becomes all the rage, you will need to know the following:

Whenever I enter a place that gives you the choice of going to either the right or the left - places like museums, or concert halls, or shopping malls (hey, that rhymes!), I will always go to the left. Always.

Speaking of left, I have real issues with distinguishing left from right. It's not like I don't KNOW the difference, I just almost ALWAYS manage to call out the wrong word while pointing the right direction (or the left direction, whichever is appropriate!) Drives the men in my life batty, 'cause, for some reason, this is the one time they actually do what I say, despite my flailing arms wildly indicating the opposite direction.

I have a frighteningly accurate internal clock. I almost always know what time it is to within a couple of minutes. I also have a self-alarm clock that wakes me just a couple of minutes before my phone alarm beeps, which would be understandable if I got up at the same time every day, but I don't. Go figure.

I order chewing gum and hairspray online. Why? Because apparently I have weird taste and nobody seems to carry the ones I like in their stores, that's why. Do you know anybody else who orders Dentyne Ice Chocoblast or White Rain Pearberry hairspray by the carton? Yeah, me neither.

I read magazines and catalogs back to front. Don't know why. Maybe it has something to do with always going to the left, or not being able to distinguish left from right. Clearly, one of my many genius flaws.

green is the new dead

When I annoy or embarrass my kids (which, I assure you, only happens on the 5th Tuesday of each month), they have always enjoyed verbally fantasizing about the evil things they will do to me later in life. They taunt, "Just wait until you're old and I'm the one pushing your wheelchair!" or "Be nice to me! One of these days I'll be picking out your nursing home!"

I have to admit, I raised these kids, I know what they are capable of, and I'm more than a little scared.

So, since I'm concerned about the quality of my future in the hands of my loved ones, I decided to do some serious research. I did some web searching, worked up a good family medical history, then turned to the most accurate source I could find:

Facebook.

I took the tried and true quiz, "When Will You Die?" and answered some very technical health questions like:
"What is your favorite color?" (GREEN)
"What is your shoe size?" (7 1/2 - 8)
"On a sinking ship, who would you rescue first?" (Leonardo, because I always thought it was tacky that Rose let him freeze to death in the cold water rather than sharing her plank.)
and
"What Jonas Brothers song makes you cry?" ("I Gotta Find You". Duh.)

The result was not at all surprising.
Apparently, according to this AMA-authorized quiz, I am already dead, so I guess that spares me from the kids' revenge.

On the other hand . . . isn't the best revenge to live well? And live LONG? So, I'm pretty sure (despite my pasty reflection in the mirror this morning) that "I'm not dead yet!", so I retook the test and decided it was time to choose a new favorite color. Now that I'm "turquoise" instead of "green" I get to live until 2061, giving the kiddos plenty of time to enjoy their mother's twilight years. Whew, that's a relief!

The Facebook quiz was so accurate, and so well-done, I decided to take a few more. You'll be fascinated to know that:

My Ghetto, Redneck, Mafia and Hippie Nicknames are:
Pookie
Rhonda Sue
Twinkle Toes
and
Birkenstock Blue Sky

My Super Power is Shape-Shifting (which is really just a nice way of saying I can't make up my mind), my aura is yellow, and apparently, according to the "What Are You Worth?" quiz, I am valued at a grand total of $6.21. Some days that feels about right.

Then I took the "What color are you?" quiz. Turns out I'm "green" after all, taking me back to the "When Will You Die?" quiz.

So, if I am, in fact, already dead, will somebody notify my family and let them know I will not be cleaning house this week?

dangling teeth and pecan tortes

SMILE . . . apparently today is National Tooth Fairy Day.

And, you know, since I AM the tooth fairy in my household, I get the day off, right? Hmmm . . . prolly not.

With regards to losing teeth, Kacey always kept me, er, the tooth fairy, on her toes. As soon as there was a hint of a wiggle in her mouth, she would twist and pull and twist and pull and twist and pull until that puppy popped out and blood gushed. She NEVER had a loose tooth more than a few hours before she struck gold.

Kevin, on the other hand, kept the tooth fairy waiting. And waiting. And waiting. There would be the slight wiggle. There would be the protecting of the baby tooth, by chewing on the opposite side. There would be the gentle rinsing instead of brushing after meals. There would be playing with the loose tooth using the tongue to flick it forward, then pull it back. Kevin could entertain himself for days, and sufficiently gross me out, with this process. Finally, sometimes after WEEKS of dangling by a thread, the tooth came out so clean and effortlessly that he sometimes didn't even realize it was missing.

The kids' baby teeth were always placed inside an envelope, and gently slid under their pillows, sometimes with cute little kindergarten handwriting that read, "This is My First Tooth". (This "sucking up" to the dental fairy would almost always guarantee bigger monetary returns on the enveloped contents.)

Granted, being the Tooth Fairy was never really a tough job. It ranked on the household job-o-meter somewhere between emptying the dryer lint filter and dusting the hot water heater. Like I said, not difficult . . . but easy to forget.

Because sometimes the tooth fairy would be SO BUSY watching late night reruns of Seinfeld that she would forget to make the coin/tooth switch on the first night following the tooth's removal. Mommy would have to explain to the disappointed little snaggle-toothed child, that SURELY the toothfairy (or Shirley the Toothfairy) would be in the neighborhood tonight while they were sleeping. And she almost always was. I mean, one time it took her about 3 days to make the rounds to retrieve one of Kevin's molars, but come on, by then he was nearly 11 and I'm pretty sure on that particular occasion the tooth fairy was completely out of cash and just didn't feel like making a trip to the bank.

It's not like this ever really disappointed my kids, since I'm not the kind of mom prone to lying. They knew I was Santa Claus, they knew I was the Easter Bunny, and they knew I was the Tooth Fairy. (How else do you think I explained the tiara I wore on Saturdays?)

Apparently it's also National Pecan Torte Day as well. Celebrate as you wish.