IF YOU CAN READ THIS YOU'RE IN BIG TROUBLE!
4 COMMENTS Published by Kenna on Saturday, September 20, 2008YOU GUYS.
That last picture?
You weren't supposed to see it.
Because you were supposed to update your RSS feed to my new blog, www.kennalyn.com, like, weeks ago!!! So get on it!!! And if you do, then maybe... just maybe, I'll actually POST OVER THERE!
Pttth. Sheesh.
Do you love it, or do you love it? Eh? Eh?
I kid. My new design is over at my new blog, Kennalyn.com
Weee! That was fun. Now update your bookmark, and come visit me right this instant. I have goodies. And chocolate.
So long, ShrekLovesFiona. Sayonara, Blogger. You both served me well, but in truth, I hate your name and you smell like feet, respectively.
I don't know what on earth I'm thinking, but I decided three minutes ago that I'm going to redesign this blog. I sort of feel like I give this blog a makeover as often as I buy a new handbag, but alas! On October 26th we all would have enjoyed this overly-cheerful design for exactly one year. And I have purchased approximately eleven handbags during that span of time, and so I'm feeling like it's high time!
So I'm going to make things wider because in the world of photos, size absolutely does matter. It's going to take me some time though, so if you haven't already sworn me off due to lack of content, just hold on a little longer and don't mind the dust that will most certainly be flying everywhere over the next little while (WHATAMIDOING?!)
And a special treat - sometime before two posts from now I'm going to tell you where in the world I've been all this time you've been missing me so terribly.
There wasn't really a photographer at the wedding, so I did my best and snapped as many as I could. Here are my favorites:
My brother Chris, the handsome groom.
His sweet new wife, Ashley. She looked gorgeous.
The princess of the party, and my new niece! Chris is the sweetest, most cute step-daddy ever. These women have captured him and he's head over heels two times over.
The flowers were so cheerful and bright!
It's all in the details.
My sister, Melanie, helping with flowers. Yes, this is how she normally looks, don't make fun of her, she's very sensitive about it.
Yum. (I did not partake thereof, unfortunately.)
Ashley and her Dad.
My sister, Megan. It's a complete pity how hideous she is.
My sister, Melanie, again. The only way she'll smile for a picture is if she doesn't know you're taking it.
Chris and my baby, Carter.
May you look back on today in fifty years and say, "this is when we loved each other the very least."
My brother is now truly and beautifully complete. I couldn't be any more elated that the three of you have found each other.
"Evil Sometimes Feels Good": a Summer re-run
10 COMMENTS Published by Kenna on Monday, July 14, 2008Today's Summer re-run is (not) brought to you by the fastly-becoming-an-epic-trend Twilight Bracelet! I know I've said it before, but I embarrassingly admit to being a fan of Stephenie Meyers' cute, little vampire series. (Except I'm of the few who prefer Jacob to Edward). If you're a fan, check the site out and tell your own sick, eternal love story through a piece of jewelry. Cool idea! And if you're not a fan of the idiot Bella... well? Don't be hatin'!
***Update: I completely forgot! When shopping for your Twilight Bracelet, enter the code "Inksplasher" during checkout for a 10% discount!***
And now for the feature presentation:
Evil Sometimes Feels Good
There are three simple, unspoken, but widely understood rules to automatic carwash etiquette:
- Any rules subject to standing in any line, be it grocery or otherwise, duly apply. This includes any decorum regarding butting, and the ever popular “I’m reading a magazine an aisle away but I’m clearly still in line, which I’m making apparent to you by establishing eye contact every 10 seconds, so don’t you dare take one step forward” act. (And yes, I have found these examples to take place while in line for the carwash - astonishing, I know.)
- When it’s your turn to enter the wash, wait for the person before you to finish their drying cycle before pulling forward. This prevents your undercarriage wash from re-soaking the car ahead of you. And please also be respectful if the neurotic in front of you feels it’s necessary to sit there for all 49 seconds allotted for the dryer.
Today was agitating and it’s entirely my fault. I slept not only through my alarm, but through 1.5 hours of my alarm, on volume 19 nonetheless (out of 20). So I skipped breakfast for time's sake. Then I skipped lunch because I was playing the “I’ll go in 10 minutes” game all afternoon. By
I pulled out of pump 6, aimed straight for the carwash entrance. Ahead of me at pump 2, is an ornery looking 40 something man with sprayed-on hair just getting back into his car. He starts his car, pedal fully down before the engine even has a chance to turn over, and slips neatly into the carwash line as I break (oh WHY did I break?) to avoid an incident. As if that’s not enough, Mr. Slickspray actually LOOKS for my reaction in his mirror.
U T T E R.....R A G E.....E N S U E S
I wave and smile the cheesiest smile I can muster. I won’t go into detail about how he had to enter his wash code three times before he got it right, (and I gave him a “thumbs up” out my window for it) or how, after getting his front wheel perfectly in that little ridge that starts the carwash, still backed up twice to reposition himself. I sat there and thought that it’s unfortunate we’re in cars and not in the grocery line where I could audibly clear my throat over and over while staring at the back of his crackled-paint bald spot and wishing I had the guts to huck my gum on it. No, we were sound-and-krusty-proof to each other. I’d have to get creative.
So, in lieu of common courtesy, I violated automatic carwash rule number three. And no, I didn’t
wait until the 45th second. In fact I didn’t wait until the first second. I simply pretended to be as ignorant as he was in the ways of the day-to-day carwash, and gosh, I got mixed up on which “Drive Forward” I was supposed to read. Apparently I read his Drive Forward sign instead of mine and rode his bumper all the way out the door. He did pause for about 3 seconds in the dryer but gave up after he realized my under-carriage wash was spewing mud and winter salt every which way.
and then…
my ultimate retribution…
a big shiny present with a billowing pink bow and it smelled like chocolate and peanut butter…
Mr. Slickspray waved the evil finger at me through his rear-view mirror.
And then I had French Toast for dinner to celebrate.
Thought I'd replay some episodes from S+F's "Best Of".... This episode made possible by the following:
Designs by Summer - Want a completely custom, fabulous blog design that no one else has?
(Except for that this isn't an advertising blog? So, I made that part up. This is a legitimate recommendation from me. I guess that makes me the advertiser, which makes this an advertising blog. But you won't be put off by that or anything, since I'm your friend and I'm just doing you a favor by giving you an awesome tip. Either way, Summer's Designs are to die for. Case in point. See? Come back for more excellent re-runs not-sponsored by other great not-advertisers!
And now for your feature presentation....
I never dared to open my mouth and tell you how wonderful a person you are. How, in my eyes, you could hold the moon and the stars if you wanted. How I admired your way of living as if you were hiding angel wings behind you everywhere you went. I never told you how I feel because sometimes a feeling means so much more than a mere word can describe. Sometimes saying something out loud or even writing it down on paper strips the greatness out until all you have is a collection of words, poetic at best.
Right now my memory of you is so clear. From playing "makeup" with you in your bathroom and watching you rat your hair to death, to the walk to town and back in Avenal, and then the most recent giggling about memories and discussing whatever came up. My memories range from watching you as a child to truly enjoying a deeper relationship with you as an adult.
It's funny how something so simple as a smell or a song can become a treasure. Thank God for the smell of banana oatmeal and the taste of those goldfish crackers - the kind you made dance in the air while you taught me how to sing that song about the fishes and the dam.
I find myself wondering lately what you're up to. Are you busy being a guardian angel to some little boy or girl? Are you held up in meetings about when to let it rain, when to shine? Or do you have a moment to peek down on me once in a while? Can you see me here in this very moment writing about you? Do you ever smile when I accomplish something great? Hold my hand when I'm overcome with sadness? Do you have a moment here and there to paint my sunset or blow me a kiss? If I concentrated long enough, would I be able to feel you here around me? Can I believe you're still here with us, breathing... watching... moving...?
I wonder if you've yet been enlightened to all this world's mysteries. If you now know all the answers - about life and religion - about which one is real, or if it even matters. I wonder if you've met my unborn children. Have you held them in your arms?
I'll choose to believe it's all true. That you can see us all, that you hug me back when my soul reaches out, that you can read these very words as I write them and feel the strength behind each one - the strength that would be there if they weren't merely words.
You were something. You're still something. An inspiration. One that makes a difference in every single day.
cher·ish (ch
r
sh) - To harbor in the mind deeply and resolutely.
Dear Internet,
I'm very sorry for my absence as of late. Well, not super sorry. I'm more sorry that I didn't give you any forewarning, or provide any valid excuse. The truth is, I don't really have an excuse other than that I'm kind of sick of you. No, I'm not sick of you or you or you, you, you, you, you, omg you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, oh man...you, you, you, you, you - we'll always be soul sisters, you - we should meet in the RL, you, you, you, or even YOU.
I can't believe I just typed all those links in. Sad.
Know what's even more sad?
You totally just moused over every one of those links to make sure I included you, DIDN'T YOU?
Well anyway, the point isn't that I'm sick of all you lovelies. The point is that I just can't do everything. Something has to give. I wrote down all the stuff I do on a regular basis and drew a line with a big green crayon. And my blog is under the line. I'm not closing shop for good. I just need a break in order to ... you know, be a mom, grow my businesses, lose some weight, keep my house clean, basic stuff. Except for that I do it all exceptionally well. Compared to Britney Spears.
So? I guess this is it. I'm breaking up with you, Internet. But don't worry, I'll be the type of girlfriend to call you up every once in a while for a NCMO (non-committal make-out), and eventually I'll come crawling back to ask you back for good. Meantime, I'll still come visit you all, too!
p.s. - Visit my sister's blog. She just graduated High School and is p-r-t-y talented!
p.s.b.p. - If I missed you in all the "you, you, you and YOU" jumble above, please don't feel badly about yourself. I'm not sick of you either. The copy/paste was flying pretty quickly there and I'm pretty sure I missed a half dozen or so.
We are really trying to deliver ourselves like a gazelle from the hunter's hand and get completely out of debt - cars and house. And it is like, SO super fun, dude. Yeah, because like just now there was this purse I saw online? And I was like, :OMFG I HAVE to have that purse right now!" And then I was like, "You know what's even awesomer than that perfect purse? Not.Having.Debt." And it was like, soooo FUN to just click on that little "X" in the top right corner instead of clicking that little "add to cart" button like I usually do.
I mean like, SO fun.
So fun in fact, that now I want to go do another thing that is on the exact same level of fun, and that is shave my tongue with my Venus razor. Anyone want to join me?
Sounds fabulous right? I was sold. And then my Curls Like Us Curl Cloth arrived. I opened the box to find a foot of jersey cotton sewn up into a loop and surged on the end with colorful thread. Hm. Coulda made this for 2 bucks. Well, let's not get too upset until we try it, mkay? So I did. I followed the directions exactly. And I didn't notice one single difference between blotting my curls with a regular towel before blow drying and blotting it with jersey cotton. In fact, I tried it several times, and it takes me approximately 3 times longer with the Curl Cloth as opposed to a regular towel to get my hair to look exactly the same as usual. Oh well, who could even use an extra thirty bucks including shipping, anyway? Not I. Except yeah, I KIND OF COULD.To be fair (and because I realize I may not represent 100% of the curled community), I searched far and wide for some positive reviews to link here. Here are the two I could find, although I can't tell if they were "sponsored" reviews or not:
Positive review
Positive review
I know this post applies to about 4% of my readers, and I promise to never do a product review again. Ever. Unless I become compelled to do so. But I probably won't.
Carter wanted to make me a homemade Mother's Day gift all by himself. Can you believe that? At only 13 months of age! He gave me a hug and then put his gift all over my shoulder, and down the front and back of my shirt. And then he gave that gift to me several times throughout the day resulting in 3 showers for me and 4 baths for him. Despite it all, it was a great Mother's Day.
This weekend we have tickets to a financial seminar by Dave Ramsey. We took his Financial Peace course several years ago and have had nothing but peaceful feelings when it comes to money ever since. No, but really, we like his advice and use a quite a few of his budgeting methods. I've always thought it a little peculiar, though, that some people make an extremely comfortable living teaching others how to make a comfortable living... or at least hold onto the living they're currently making. Don't get me wrong, I'm not sour on it one bit. It's a valuable service and learning to manage your own money is an important thing. But I couldn't help the sarcasm after reading a reminder email that just arrived about the seminar this weekend (which starts at 1:00pm). They say doors will open at 11:00am. Why so early? Probably so we can spend all our emergency fund on Dave Ramsey T-shirts and CDs and stuff - which, doesn't that kind of defeat the entire point anyway? Along with the option for VIP tickets you can get for $150 extra, which include "Lunch with Dave" and free refreshments during the seminar. Wouldn't DAVE, by his very nature, recommend we go with the cheapest tickets available? I'm secretly hoping he'll scold those in the VIP rows for spending way too much on his tickets when they could have gone the discount route and put the rest in a high-interest savings account. But then, he WANTED them to buy the expensive tickets, no? What a quandary.
And speaking of quandaries, based on all your comments on this post, I've decided to talk about the product I purchased that would have been a little overpriced even if it worked magically. But then it didn't work at all. And not because of manufacturer's defect, either. Just because it's plain dumb. But just to be fair, I'm going to spend some time looking for positive reviews on the product as well. If I find good reviews, maybe that means I just have really bad taste and am apparently not with it. At ALL. And if only bad reviews exist, well, then, more fuel to the fire, baby.
Lovies!
I've been swamped the last week! With what, I can't really quantify, but life just feels really busy right now and the laundry, my unplucked eyebrows and this blog are starting to show for it. I'm still feeling really scattered but I do have some very important things to say:
1. It seems nowadays that more women have hormonal problems than not. And by "hormonal problems" I don't mean being neurotically touchy & pugnacious (well, not necessarily, although I know these two are often related), but really having some sort of imbalance that causes health grief. I came to this realization today after hearing these words come out of my mouth during a conversation with a friend:
"What?! You have a period every single month? And it only lasts 5 days? pfff! (freak.)"2. I hereby confess to reading and enjoying the Twilight series, in spite of the fact that Bella is a BLINKING IDIOT and Edward is a CONTROL FREAKED STALKER and that the series sends a clear message to all 17 year old girls who are in love (and clearly, if your knees buckle when you make out with your boyfriend, you are, in FACT, in love): Don't think twice about leaving your entire life behind and changing every single little thing about yourself in order to be with "the bad boy". It makes perfect sense, of course, because of your deep, undying love for him. (Even though he's permanently incapable of doing the same for you.)
Yes, in spite of all that, I enjoy myself some Stephenie Meyer. And today her first stab at sci-fi came out. My mother will be so proud that I'm giving the genre a try.
3. Scruples question for all of you: Say you recently bought a so-claimed "patent pending" product for $30 from a brand new, woman-owned company. The product seems so innovative and fun, providing a solution to a problem you've had (and you know many others have, too) your entire life. And then the product arrives and immediately upon opening it, you think, "Oh. That's it? I could have made this for 2 dollars using very common materials." But before getting too upset about it, you decide to try the product out, thinking there must be some hidden secret locked inside its fibers. And it does nothing. Absolutely nothing. Do you blog about it to warn others? I mean, where is your loyalty: with your friends and blog readers, or with this fellow woman entrepreneur who is trying to launch a new business?
"Kicking Off Year Seven" ... a camera phone tale
18 COMMENTS Published by Kenna on Saturday, May 03, 2008
At grandma's house: bye, baby. [sniff]
Dinner: (Everytime I pass this place on the freeway, I have to do a double take on their sign because I almost always see "La Vagina" when I look at it.)
Me: lemon cookie + whole milk. Steve: one of these darlings + 2%.
Can't believe we got out of there this time without a new gadget, for I am the "gadget slut" of the universe.
Really surprised at how good this was, and how SMOKIN that RD Jr. is.
Day 2: Woke up, took this picture, rolled over and closed my eyes again. Until TEN THIRTY! Livin' on the edge!
Lunch.
Steve's brother on the phone to 
Sunglasses: "Any pair you want" Only a few can know what this means for me. Sunglasses to me are like shoes and purses for most shopaholic women. (Unfortunately, so are shoes and purses.)
Hilarious. And horrible. But hilarious.
Reunion in super hot sunglasses.A perfect weekend to kick off our seventh year of happy, squishy, cheesy, sunshiny love together.
Still feeling a little guilty about this one, though. Back on the diet starting tomorrow!After a few days of waiting, these lovelies now get to go outside and play. And I get to reclaim my kitchen table. Here's to a hearty season of herbs and vegetables. And for the sake of these blurry pictures, here's to yesterday's tripod purchase, too.
Today I'm participating in the "How I Met My Honey" carnival at Ramblings by Reba. My entry is here. Go check out a few of the stories if you're in the mood for some pure and unadulterated sap and cheese. :)
