Sundays with Stretchy Pants

It’s like Tuesdays with Morrie, without all the wisdom.


My Type

I found this blog personality type analysis thingy at Wonkette, which is where I find everything of questionable value in my life. And since it must be your lucky day, I’m posting my results here for you along with the results for Kids Know Stuff.

esfp

The analysis indicates that the author of http://sundayswithstretchypants.com is of the type:

ESFP - The Performers

The entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don“t like to plan ahead - they are always in risk of exhausting themselves.

The enjoy work that makes them able to help other people in a concrete and visible way. They tend to avoid conflicts and rarely initiate confrontation - qualities that can make it hard for them in management positions.

In case you’re wondering, and you don’t know me in real life, that is an actual picture of me. If you do know me in real life, it’s still an actual picture of me, it’s just the one that Bryan keeps in his head. For special occasions. And obviously, none of that analysis is true except for the part about it being hard for me to be in management positions. I’m extremely coachable, but I’m a horrible coach. Uh, so good thing I homeschool? Shit.

Anyway, here’s Kids Know Stuff:

isfpISFP - The Artists

The gentle and compassionate type. They are especially attuned their inner values and what other people need. They are not friends of many words and tend to take the worries of the world on their shoulders. They tend to follow the path of least resistance and have to look out not to be taken advantage of.

They often prefer working quietly, behind the scene as a part of a team. They tend to value their friends and family above what they do for a living.

No, that’s not an actual picture of any of the children. And, I think, not even a picture anybody would ever have in their heads. Of anybody. Ever. However, the analysis is definitely true. My babies are precious little sweety punkins. They’re vulnerable and quiet and they definitely wouldn’t think it was funny to burp on camera or anything like that.

Speaking of artists, I know some. My friend Kristen Marra Marek has some photographs in the C-note Art Show. (There isn’t a search form on the site and there are a lot of artists, so do ctrl-f and then type her name in if you want see her stuff.) And maybe vote for her stuff because it’s good. I wouldn’t try to make you vote my way, though. No, I would never do that. I think voting should be private and not talked about at all.

*cough*

I know another awesome artist in that show, too: Sharon H. Bell. You could vote for her too if you wanted to. I know it says one vote/IP address, but sometimes that’s a lie. Sometimes it’s not, but you should try to vote twice like I did in the presidential election.

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Big Sigh

Today is Liberty’s last homeschool art class until fall. And since gas costs a billion dollars and the class is not within walking distance, I have to say goodbye to Java Central. *sigh* It really is the most beautiful coffee shop in the world. And now that they’re carrying AmyD stuff, they’re even beautifuller. If you’re local, and so rich that you can afford to put gas in your mini-van, you should go there and buy stuff. While I’m there today, I will be weeping into my iced java chip and drying my eyes with one of AmyD’s gorgeous aprons. *sniffle* I’ll buy it if I get it too snotty.

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Sick. Need Peach Hi-C.

I haven’t been this sick in a very long time. I can’t remember the last time I had a fever, but it must have been in the 80s because, darn it, this fever has set off such a hankering for peach Hi-C. A hankering that is destined to go unsatisfied. Unless somebody out there has a bomb shelter set up with all kinds of Hi-C and Spam and whatnot. That would be awesome.

My mom didn’t usually buy Hi-C or anything fun like that when I was growing up, but when I was sick, she would buy me a giant can of my favorite peach drink. That, and a can of Planters cheese balls. Or cheese curls, depending on which texture I was after. I can still remember the smell of those cheese balls when I peeled the foil back. Yum.

I’ve been dreaming about peach Hi-C in a can, opened on 2 sides (to avoid the glugging when it’s poured) with that little thing that used to put triangular holes in the many varied tin cans that held our liquids in the 70s and 80s, and popsicles for my sore, sore throat. I called Bryan at work this morning at about 7:00 and tried to communicate to him with my nearly non-existent voice that I would need him to bring me some popsicles on his way home or else he shouldn’t bother coming home. Only I couldn’t really talk that much, so I didn’t get to threaten him and be all dramatic. So I just used my scary voice to say, “Redrum” over and over and he got the hint. Then I staggered back to bed and dreamed that he couldn’t find any popsicles anywhere because they stopped making them when they stopped making peach Hi-C. After waking up from that nightmare about 23 times, he finally came home with my precious yum yums.

So sad that I’ll be missing the Chair is Art show at Gallery 202 tonight. Bryan will be there with the girls because Liberty worked on a couple of chairs with her art class. Some of our friends also have chairs in the show. It will be fun and I hate to miss the fun. Boo.

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Oprah Heard My Prayers

It’s art day and it’s nice out. I suppose t’s possible that there is a cloud over the beautiful coffee shop, but I’m choosing to believe that Oprah heard my prayers and has forgiven me. Feels good.

We’re very excited around here to be having some more awesome company for the next 3 days (Mechelle, her kids, and one of my nieces–yay!) We’ll be wandering around doing the fun things that we can do in Columbus, so I won’t be around here checking my blog stats obssessively. Much. I don’t know how the 8 of you who check my blog regularly will get through the week, but I’m sure you could read a book or maybe interact with other humans to pass the time. I know those things don’t sound like viable alternatives, but I read on the internet that that’s how some people choose to spend their days. For real. Ok, bye.

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I’m Sorry, Oprah.

It’s raining today, what a surprise. I knew it would be raining because it’s homeschool art class day and homeschool art class day is when my friends and I drop our kids off and walk to the most beautiful coffee shop in the world. And on every single homeschool art class day, the weather has treated us like shit. It’s either raining or freezing cold, even if it was sunny and 50 degrees the day before. I think that the universe thinks that if we get to spend an hour and a half chatting in a beautiful coffee shop and have nice weather for our little walk, our heads might just explode with glee. I guess that could happen. The more likely theory is that this kind of thing happens because I once hung up on Oprah and she’s been punishing me in these little ways ever since.

To be fair, I didn’t know Oprah was going to be Queen of the Universe back when I hung up on her and I really think she should take that into consideration. It was the ’80s and I’m not even sure her ratings were better than Donahue’s at that time. She was having a show about bad neighbors and I had a really bad neighbor. When I was 8, he shot my first pet, Pooty the cat, and then pointed a gun at my mom when my parents confronted him. (No, we didn’t live in a trailer park. Why do you ask?) Anyway, this was back in the call-in days. I figured I had a story to tell, so I called and called and called. Every time somebody told their bad neighbor story, I was all, “My story is worse than that you big baby!” while I frantically dialed through my tears. I finally got through during the last commercial break. I don’t remember how the person answered the phone, but I know I said, “My neighbor is so bad, he shot my cat because she walked on his car and then when my dad and mom went over there, he pointed the gun at my mom! And we don’t even live in a trailer park!” The person on the phone said, “Ok,” and then I heard a click. I thought that meant I should hang up. I was little. They came back from commercial and I was bouncing up and down on the couch waiting for Oprah to say something like, “We just had the most precious little girl call in and tell us the worst story we’ve heard yet today. This story puts all of our panel guests’ stories to shame. Oh, the tragedy this little child has faced. I don’t know how she finds the strength to go on.” But she didn’t say anything like that. She said, “Ok, we have a caller. Go ahead, Caller. Caller? Caller, are you there? Jesus H. Christ, Caller? WTF?” And then she turned to her producer and said, “Don’t tell me that little bitch hung up on me.” At least, that’s the way I remember it. And can I tell you how a little piece of me died that day? I watched Oprah get all tense because I hung up on her. I felt an odd mix of elation and dread. I could’ve been on OPRAH! Oh no, I hung up on OPRAH! And then my parents got divorced. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.

So, I want to say I’m sorry to Oprah. I also want to say I’m sorry to my homeschool mom friends. I shouldn’t have kept this part of my past from you. I don’t want you to be hurt by any more of Oprah’s cosmic retaliation powers. I mean, I’m not sorry enough that I’m going to skip the coffee shop just so you guys can have a nice walk there, but still. At least now you know the truth.

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Sometimes My To-Do List Depresses Me

I didn’t run this morning because it’s pouring out there and I’m just not up for a soak today. No big deal, though, I don’t need running as an anti-depressant on this fine day because my to-do list says it’s Liberty’s homeschool art class day, which means I get to sit in a coffee shop with other homeschool moms for, like, an hour and fifteen minutes. Wheeeee! That’s cool, but next on my list, with a priority level of A2 (only slightly less important than voting which is written 3rd, but prioritized at A1): Wash lettuce. What in the hell kind of life do I have where I need to write “wash lettuce” on my to-do list? And now I’m depressed. I guess it would have been better if I hadn’t written it in my planner and had it staring at me and acting all urgent and important like I don’t have other more important things going on. I know I wrote it down because it is something that, if I don’t do it this morning, by the time I’m making lunch, I’ll feel too busy to do it and then we’ll all eat ice cream or something like that. I don’t write all the little household things I have to do all day long on the list, and now I know why. I can be in denial if I don’t write things like “laundry” and “toilets” and “feed the children again and again and again” and “fill up the little black holes of need with motherly love and affection until you have nothing left for yourself and you’re just an empty shell of a person who once lived, but no longer lives, and keep filling even though you realize that it will never be enough and whatever ruin they come to in life will be blamed on you for not giving them enough of you no matter how much you gave, because they are mother effin’ black holes of need.” That would be ridiculous. The lines are too small.

*sigh* I have to go wash the lettuce now.

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I’m a Gallery Hopping Vote Hopper

Ohio’s primaries are tomorrow and I’m still undecided. I’m going to try to definitely decide who to vote for before I vote. I think that’s a good plan. I have goodies from each side because I went to the gallery hop with Alissa and Amy to see Sharon’s and Melissa’s awesome arts all up on display Saturday night (Yay!), and both Hillary’s and Obama’s people were out and about on opposite sides of the street, chanting at each other and everything. It was so cool and so very big city! On the west side of the street, I was sure I was voting for Hillary. The volunteers gave us all stickers and they even gave me three extras for each of my little girls (cuz Hillary’s a girl, you know). Then we ended up on the east side of the street where Obama’s volunteers gave us some stickers *and* a button! A Button! So I wore both stickers and the button and I was confused. And then when I got home and tried to take the stickers off of my sweater, Hillary’s stuck like a mother effer, and Obama’s came off super easy. I keep trying to read more into that. Like political tea leaves or something.

Anyway, I gave the girls their super cool Hillary stickers today. Maya ended up with all of them because Lena and Liberty informed me that they were voting for Obama.

Me: Why Obama?

Lena: Cuz he’s black.

Me: Well, Hillary’s a woman.

Liberty: (excitedly) If there was a black woman, I would pick her! Besides, Hillary already got to live in the White House and Obama never did yet.

I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that same argument on Meet the Press or something.

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