Posts Tagged With: sense of humor

identity crisis (or F**K YOU Pottermore)

When I need a break from studying I simply open another tab on my laptop and see what the world has to offer.
Today the world offered me two things that piqued my interest.
1. Loads of information about visiting New Orleans (this will be another post)
2. Pottermore

I ended up at Pottermore because when I realized today is the last day of July, I remembered it’s Harry Potter’s birthday. (the thought process was a bit more complex than that but not quite interesting enough to share)

When I realized it was Harry’s birthday, I thought I’d see about getting sorted into a Hogwarts house.
I did this a billion years ago when Pottermore first became a thing. Of course, I can’t remember my information from this sorting. (I was assigned a random word and some numbers as my username.)
I do know I was sorted into Ravenclaw.
Now, I’ve always sort of felt like I was more of a Raven-puff (Huffle-claw?), a delicate balance of both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff houses. But the fact that the most legit sorting device placed me in Ravenclaw was more than good enough for me.
Though I often wonder if I’m truly clever enough to be a true Ravenclaw.

Anyhoo…
Today the sorting hat placed me in Gryffindor.
Um…what now?

So I immediately do the only possible thing I can.
Because Nora will feel me on this.

(side note: While I am bossy and bushy haired like Hermione. I’m not an insufferable know-it-all. I do remain calm in crisis, and plan, and think things through like Hermione. I am bright and brave like Hermione. Hmmm…I may actually be talking myself into this foolishness…)

Glutton for punishment that I am, in the intervening twenty-five minutes between texts, I get right back on Pottermore to be sorted again. Back to back.
It only gets worse.

(side note: For the record, I am NOT a hater! My own Thing 1 is a Slytherin, as is her Husband N. And good on them! But they possess certain qualities that fit Slytherin house that I don’t.)

I’m over here like, from Ravenclaw to Slytherin?

Right there with you, Buffy.
Full on identity crisis! (Yeah, yeah, based on a made up website about a made up world about a made up school…etc. I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m feeling it, therefore it’s real!)

What’s curious about this entire situation is that my wand and patronus remain the same throughout.
My patronus is a cat. (A ‘duh’ absolutely comes at the end of that sentence.)
My wand is rowan wood with a dragon heartstring core. 11 1/2 inches with unbending flexibility.
(Y’all! that wand is mine x infinity and here’s why: rowan is the “sevice-tree” with a long mythological history. Heartstring is directly linked to living my intention, and dragons are just about as BAMF as you can get. 11 1/2 inches is the size of a Barbie doll, my favorite childhood toy. And unbending flexibility? Well, I’m as unbending AF yet also fairly flexible.)

My Ilvermorny house remained the same as well. (Thunderbird) “Thunderbird house is sometimes considered to represent the soul of a witch or wizard.” That struck a chord in me too.

Anyway, I don’t cotton to this whole sorted into Slytherin house. (No offense, Bear.)
But…Nora may have saved the day!!

Has anyone ever said with unmitigated joy, “Mercury is in retrograde.”!?!
I suspect not.
But today I did!
And when Mercury once again gets itself together, I shall return to Pottermore and set this house situation straight.

This is seriously how I spend my time when I’m not studying. I’ve spent the last three hours on this sorting snafu!
I’m going to need to get it together and get back to studying!

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I’m a ray of f**king sunshine

I really like cuss words.
Profanity.
Dirty words.
Offensive language.
Bad words.
Expletives.
Swear words.
Obscenitites
Whatever you call ’em, they make me happy.
I find them excellent descriptive words great for most any situation.

I have been told that my passion for, and abundant use of curse words denotes a lack of intelligence on my part. (You know I’m saying a great big ‘f**k you’ to those folks.) But, According to Richard Stephens at Keele University,

The fact is that the size of your vocabulary of swear words is linked with your overall vocabulary, and swearing is inextricably linked to the experience and expression of feelings and emotions.

Unlike the vast majority of women in the world, (some men too) I am a fan of the “C word”.
I know.
I don’t mind if you judge me. Most folks do when it comes to this particular word.
To me it’s just another bad word. It doesn’t offend me in any way, and in some cases I find it amusing.
So much so that I had a bit of a squee when banter cards ran a half-price sale on their ‘not quite perfect’ hardback notebooks!
I ordered a few. I mean honestly can one ever have enough journals?
And they’re just so me.
(“C word” alert!!)

As happy as I am with each one, and My C**ting Notepad brings me the biggest smirk, I’m going to have to admit that List Whore just might be my favorite.
Like there was any doubt…but y’all! It even has a little heart! I (heart) lists!
Though a reminder to not be a bitch is always helpful, because some times I simply can’t help myself.

Going to contemplate the perfect use for each one…
In the meantime, I got fun stickers for immediate use in my planner.

Organized as f**k.
You know it!

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

let us treat self expression with respect

There will be those with differing opinions. And that’s fine with me.
Isn’t that what makes it interesting to be a human? To think and feel things that may be a bit different than the things thought and felt by the people you know?
I’ve learned so much about myself and the world by engaging in conversations of differing opinions.
Here’s the most important thing I learned.
It’s all about respect.
I respect your right to your differing opinions. I expect that same respect in return.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy right?
(Yeah, I know.)

I received a snapchat from my daughter two days ago. It amused me so. I was amused because I too have been where she was. I was also struck by the truth in it. Her truth. Where she was in that moment.
It was real. It was honest. And it was a true representation of her sense of humor.

I know the differing opinion folks might have something to say about her attitude or language. I know I would never have sent something like that to my own mother.
But my girl, she is different.
And I’m a different sort of mom.

Here’s the what.
Honest self expression is not always the simplest action. So if one can manage to speak their truth I say, Bravo! Sometimes that truth comes via opening credits of a television show and quippy language.
I was amused enough to take a screenshot.
At the time, I had no idea I’d be using it for a post, I just knew it was a perfect encapsulation of who my daughter is and why I love her.
It really does come down to respect. I respect her enough to encourage her self expression. She respects me enough to know that she can be herself with me.
And the respect from those of differing opinion to acknowledge that my daughter has an interesting way about her without judging it.

This is what I know.
Be respectful. (of yourself and others)
Speak your truth.
If you do the first, the second will be much simpler, no matter how you choose to express yourself.

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

dem bones

To thrive in life you need three bones. A wishbone. A backbone. And a funny bone. ~ Reba McEntire

This makes such sense to me!
I mean really. So. Much. Sense.

wishbone

A “wishbone” is your imagination. Your hopes and dreams and desires. Can’t go anywhere in life without these. Well I guess you can, but you’ll be wandering…faithless and directionless like the Israelites . And nobody wants that. Dreams are what makes your life worth the Journey.

human spine

A “backbone” is your gumption. Your stubbornness that fuels you for the Journey of your life. Your ability to stand up for what’s right. Your strength to carry on when you want to lay down the mantle and rest.

funny-bone

A “funny bone” isn’t really a bone at all, but you ulnar nerve. We all know it’s not funny when you whack it. In this case, your funny bone is your sense of humor. Your ability to laugh your way through the Journey of your life.

A part of me feels as though a funny bone is the most important of the three. Though I suspect that argument could be made for each of these bones. Actually, the more I think about it…each one of these bones is the most important.
Without your wishbone, you’d never desire more. You’d never want to learn or do or become anything at all. A wishbone is invaluable when it comes to imagining…well, anything really. Without imagination, the Journey of life would be lacking.
Without your backbone, you’d not have the will to make the Journey of life. A backbone helps you be resourceful. It gives you the strength you need to help yourself, and those you love.
Without a funny bone, you couldn’t find the humor in the Journey of life. And we all know life is at the very least amusing. I firmly believe you’ve got to be able to laugh at the bad things as well as the good.

The Journey of life is tricky. It can be good. It can be bad. It can be indifferent. But with the right tools, you can thrive. Just remember these three things:
You gotta dream.
You gotta be capable.
You gotta laugh.

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I amuse myself

Well, I finally finished my mind map!
bitmoji
No. Not really.
But almost.
I amuse myself.

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riding the struggle bus

I had a bad day Monday.
It was the day of: Are you even alive?
I struggled the entire day. In all honestly, I should have gone back to bed and waited for Tuesday.
My friend Nora was quick to offer to come to my rescue, even though there was nothing she could really do to help. She’s good like that. I’m blessed to have her in my life. She’s a wonderful human being and she’s a good, strong, and loving friend.

I got a text message from her a little while ago. It said: Now it’s my turn to ride the struggle bus today.
She shared her struggle and we “breathed together” and she asked one question that I answered with truth and love. I think she’s feeling less anxious, and I know I don’t feel as concerned for her as I did when it started.

All that said, (and this is why she’s so great…she has the same wack-a-doodle sense of humor as me) I freaking LOVE that phrase “ride the struggle bus”. I’m fairly clever with words but have no qualms admitting I’d probably never come up with that phrase.
She was amused that I dig it.
She could see past her anxiety and appreciate the humor in the phrase.

Sometimes you can’t help but ride the struggle bus.
But if you’re really fortunate, you’ll have people in your world that will ride with you…or at least wait for you at the next stop.
That’s when you can stop and breathe together. And hopefully be amused.

Categories: peace and wellbeing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

narcissistic much?

I’m a complete and total narcissist and without question or doubt, the world absolutely revolves around me.

Just kidding.

Or am I?

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storytelling part four (classroom fun)

Friday’s heat advisories kept us indoors so we made our own fun. I got down off my soapbox and let the kids do what they wanted. After expanding our construction zone to somehow encompass the entire back half of the classroom they cleaned up and came together ready the write a story.
I encouraged the worst possible story in the history of all stories and they did not disappoint.

(email title)
total global destruction

Well…sort of.

Miss Robynbird told us how proud she was that we were able to make a story without any bloodshed, so much so that today she challenged us to make the most horrifically terrible story possible! We’re talking fire, flood, famine. We’re talking dragons, dinosaurs, witches and sharks. We’re talking destruction of TOTAL GLOBAL PROPORTION!

During the planning process we shouted out things like:
witches potions
dinosaurs
dragons
sharks
villagers
fire

KR-J asked to begin the story, and it went a little something like this:
Once upon a time there was a scary dinosaur and there was a villager. And the villager found the dinosaur.
AO:
And then there was another dinosaur. A dragon came and he blow fire on the grass where the dinosaur was. A witch came from where the villager was. She said, “NO DRAGONS BREATHING FIRE!”
VS:
Another witch found a villager’s house and saw a cloak and put it on then she went to the dragon and the dragon ate her and she “spelled” out of the dragon and found her body again.
RC:
Then another dragon came and the villager…he saw crocodiles…they are by the water…he was trying to be careful by the bridge, but fell in the pond and the crocodile is gonna eat him. Then the villager got out and runned away from the crocodile.
ZB:
Then what happened, there was a shark, and he was bad and ate some people and there were other people and they went on a bridge and the bridge broke and they fell in the water then what happened, was the dinosaur got the people and stomped on them and they was squished.
JH:
More people ran into the forest and into their house and the dragons blowed their house. Then they run into the bridge and they fell into the water and the shark get ’em.
EY:
The dragon and shark…the dragon saw a knight guard…he tried to fight the dragon and he fired the knight guard and eat him.
Miss Robynbird turned to TK: Bring us home.
TK grinned:
Then there was a bridge that was broken and the shark at the broken pieces and a dragon breathed fire on more people and then stepped on them and they were dead. And then he ate them.

Total global destruction was a SUCCESS!

(Teacher’s Note: YBW asked me if any of the parents found this inappropriate. I laughed. These parents absolutely LOVE this stuff. They think these stories are wonderful. I am blessed to have parents with senses of humor. They are blessed to have teachers who encourage creativity and critical thought.)

Categories: education | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Say it proud!

Rick Bragg writes a column for Southern Living Magazine titled “Southern Journal”. This journal entry for May is called “Donkey Business (How I went from a proud rancher of bulls to a jackass man)”.
Mr Bragg writes about feeling a bit ashamed about being a writer. He writes that he feels other southern men judge him for not having a more manly profession. In the column, he explains how his family’s property had Hereford cattle until one day his mother asked to sell them off because she’d been chased by one of the bulls.
Like most good southern children, boys especially, he wasn’t about to disobey his Mama and the cattle were no more.
Which resulted in him no longer being able to tell folks he “raised bulls”.
Apparently, his Mama then decided the land looked lonely and wanted miniature donkeys…wackiness ensues.
And now when Mr Bragg is asked by some “real man” what he does, he tells him he’s a writer because he surely doesn’t want folks to know they are mini donkey on his family’s land.
(P.S. Mr Bragg, you are a beautiful writer, shout it out with pride!)

This struck my funny bone. The humor and telling of the story.
It struck my heart too.
Once upon a time, I was a very young stay at home mom…not college educated…”just” a mom. These years were the happiest years of my life, which I would trade for absolutely nothing and sometimes wish I could revisit. But I remember being in groups of people and when it came time to share what I “did” I would say: I’m a stay at home mom.
I wouldn’t feel prideful when I said it, I would feel less than.
I knew it was the most important job I would ever have. I knew I wanted to raise my own children. I knew I wanted to be the person they could trust most in this world to keep them safe.
But at that time I assumed the “rest of the world” with their fancy degrees and their office jobs would just look down their noses at me.

I remember the first time someone looked at me with awe when I told them what I did. Clearly the “rest of the world” understood the dedication and love and work that went into being someone’s (Two someones.) mommy all the live long day.
I saw respect in that face. The respect I had earned through my hard work at this labor of love. The respect I deserved.
It took me a while to understand how to reconcile the way it felt. It seemed to me that I might be viewed by the “rest of the world” as someone of no importance because my worth wasn’t in my job like most of the people I knew.
Only it wasn’t my worth that was in my job. I had the most important (and lifelong!) job in the history of all jobs. My job was to help, create a foundation for the girls to build their lives upon. My worth was irrelevant in my job. My job was to start them on the paths to their own worth.

It wasn’t much longer I didn’t hesitate to say I was a mommy. When I tell people now that I was a stay at home mom for fifteen years, I say it with pride and joy. I say it as though nothing I’ve done (as “work”) before or since matters a fraction as much.

I’m forty four years old. It took me a long time to stop comparing myself to the “rest of the world” probably longer than it should have…but that’s a story for another day.
I am me. The me I am because of the live I’ve lived. The choices I’ve made. Being a mom made me stronger than I might have been otherwise.

Sure, they might be miniature donkeys instead of Hereford cattle…but they’re my mini donkeys. And I’m their Mommy.

Categories: me, on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

cold as balls

Sundance sent this as commentary on our weather:

IMG_0081

Thanks to the folks at DC 101 (a local radio station) for their sense of humor.
Thanks to Sundance for knowing it would tickle me.

Stay warm, y’all!

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