The Funky Chicken


So it’s Saturday morning and Kes comes in and drags me out of bed to go do a little shopping with her.

“OK”, I says, “Let’s go.”

So I hop up and while she gets dressed I am in a little quandary since I can’t find anything to wear that fits. You see, I’ve lost weight. A good deal of it, as a matter of fact. So have Kessa and Keelan. We’ve all been on the diet train.

I put on a sleeveless white blouse and walked into the living room and stepped into the stairwell.



“Come look at this and tell me what you think.”

“In a minute! I’m getting dressed.”

So Keelan has wandered in and looks at me and says, “Why? What’s the matter with it?”

I extended my arms and asked if the hanging armholes looked ridiculous.She shrugs halfheartedly as her sister enters the room and Keelan says,  “What are you going to be doing that would require you to put your arms out like that?”

I immediately reply that there may or may not be an occasion during our shopping trip where the need to do The Funky Chicken occurs.

Kes’s head snapped around like a homing device and her eyes zeroed in on me.

“Mom, let me make this perfectly clear… We will NOT be doing The Funky Chicken at ANY TIME TODAY.”

At some point in the day, on the way to the car, I had a pair of reading glasses perched on top of my head, (I mean how else am I going to read price tags?), and I was taking a pair of sunglasses out of my purse to apply to my eyeballs, having completely forgotten the reading glasses up there.

Kessa pipes up, “Mom, you’ve got too many pairs of glasses on at one time… one’s the limit.

I told her that I always wear two pairs when I’m going to do The Funky Chicken and she came to a complete stop in the parking lot.


I think this leaves the chance open for another day and if I keep my mouth shut and don’t remind her that it’s even a possibility… Well, I could very well be seen doing The Funky Chicken in the parking lot of Target near you. Or maybe even far away. The priceless thing won’t be me doing it, but the look on the young lady’s face with me.




John is off work tomorrow. What will we do?

Probably go grocery shopping.

Run errands.

Complain about the girls while knowing we would be lonely without them.

Play with the dogs.

Watch a movie.

Water the lawn.

And in the end, we will communicate a lot somewhere in there.

And we will GET each other.

This? Is why I look forward to my days spent with him.


I need to post. I want to post! I am creatively frustrated right now.

So I guess that’s better than being un-creatively frustrated?

It is so hot outside I am wilting inside. Not to mention dragging out the water hose and sprinkler every evening and soaking down the yard, which was about to be completely dead before I caved and started watering it.

You know what’s wonderful when it’s this hot?

No, not running naked through the snow. See? I know how your mind works.

Watermelon Peach Mango iced tea.

I wish so much I could show you a picture of how it tastes. It is SO refreshing and light and cool and exactly what you imagine angel farts to be.

How ’bouts you just come on down to my house and I’ll make a pitcher of it.

OH! I could even fill up my favorite Tervis Tumbler, the fabulous new one out! The 2011 NBA World Champion Dallas Mavericks!

Packed with ice and Watermelon Peach Mango iced tea!

I am telling you, it doesn’t get any better than that down here!

Except maybe with a splash of Watermelon Vodka.

How good would THAT be?!

Excuse me. It’s been fun chatting on with you and all, but I gotta run make something to drink.

Oh, that invitation stands!

Well, another miracle was preformed while Mither was here to force me to accomplish things help me out.

Remember this?

Yeah. That was October 11.


The stupid door finally got repainted.

Took about 10 minutes and one sample sized paint can that cost $5.00.

No. I don’t know why it took me so long to do it, except to say I just couldn’t decide on a color. I love red, but the neighbors across the street have a red door and I didn’t want to be a copy cat.

Yet, I really do love mine, now.


I have to give Mither a lot of the credit. She pushed me into going ahead and doing it. OK, she stood over me until it was done. OKAY! She helped me!

Er, maybe I helped her, whatev.

I really like it.

Do you think it’s turquoise because we’re Messicans?

John says I’m “Mexican by injection”. ;-)



For your own sanity, don’t let your husband read this. At no point did I use a level, volt meter, or stud finder. Even though nothing went amiss and the levelicity of the end result is perfect, we all know how this knowledge will effect men.

I also have used some fairly loose terminology. i.e. do-dads, thingy, hicky-do, etc.

You do what you want… I just don’t want any hysterical emails saying your husband blew a gasket because I “eyeballed” something.

Be safe!


Screw it! I’m just going to post this thing on a Sunday, even though I know hardly anyone reads their… reader on Sunday. And since I have been incarcerated on hiatus for so long it’s down to you and that other person at this point anyway.

However, I am too happy with myself to let this opportunity slip by. I must toot my horn and all that happy crap.

There has been a TOILET PAPER SITUATION here for some time now. By this I mean that john is super cheap and only buys the sandpaper kind we haven’t had an actual toilet paper rack in our bathroom in… a long, long time. This was due to several factors but mostly, the old one was shitty, (HAH! SHITTY- toilet paper! Did you see what I did there?) and I was tired of fighting with it and while it looks as though I yanked it out of the wall before the paint job, I actually took it off very calmly.

So there are these huge gaping holes in the wall and wouldn’t you know, all toilet paper holders are about the same size and the holes for all of the damn things are in about the same place. Where the giant holes in my wall are.

I am guessing this could be because all toilet paper is the same size?

Let’s not over think this.


So, after visiting The Goodwill Store and scoring a brand new, in the package, Delta toilet paper holder for THREE DOLLARS, ($3.00!), I devised a plot to thwart the efforts of toilet paper dispenser manufacturers and, ultimately, I believe, rise above the evil t.p. manufacturers as well.

I took my happy ass to a local craft store and purchased a wooden plaque. But not before I traced a template of the t.p. holder so I would know how big a plaque I needed. (It must be said here that the holder came with a template in the packaging, but… something happened to it, so I made my own.)

I then painted said plaque and did TWO COATS. Cause that? is just how much attention I pay to details, people.

I proceeded to screw in the little, stupid toilet paper holder…. holders.

And then drill holes in the middle of the hicky-dos so that the freakin’ molly bolt’s I got that are HUGE and capable of holding firm in, like, a sponge, or something equally squishy, can go through the middle of the t.p. thingy and THEN I screw the little folding do-dads on the ends of the screw thingys and plunge them into my Swiss Cheese wall.


Oh, wait a minute. Even though there are thousands of holes in my wall, none of them appear to be in exactly the right spot. Well I can just drill new ones and the plaque will cover up the old ones.

I do.

Then I stick the folding do-dads through the holes and start screwing in the bolts while applying pressure against the do-dads so that the screws tighten the whole mess up.

After that it’s just getting the rack ends on the hangy things via the tightening of the teeny-tiny hex screw that they have strategically placed where no one can reach it on the bottom of the deals. Right against the wall.

You know why they are called “hex screws” don’t you? It’s not because they are shaped like hexagons. It’s because you realize someone has put a hex on you and you are screwed the moment you attempt to use the teeny-tiny little allen wrench. The plaque, actually, does make this easier than usual because it gets the hex screw further from the wall and makes more room to work.

Now. All done.


We’re out of toilet paper.