Blast from the past…
Originally posted October 2009
(ya, I so meant to post this last week!)

I was going to pop on here and just share a few creative Halloween recipes I found, but you know that’s not going to happen. I got a little sad looking at all the festive goodies and now I need to vent. Vent first, then the fun stuff.
I totally miss Trick or Treating.
I’m not going to lie.
If I thought I could get away with it this year, I’d be sporting a $19.95 K-Mart Special costume with pillowcase in hand (king size) and hitting up every damn house within a square mile of me. Actually, I’m not sure what part of Halloween appeals to me more, a) the candy b) showing up to school or a party in the best flipping costume (obviously we all know if I’m getting a K-Mart Blue Light Special this year, the priority is candy) there.
I’m not going to lie.
Sometimes these were hand-me-down costumes my sister had worn the year prior, nevertheless they were probably my idea to begin with. Who would not want to dress as a “Fig” handing out Fig Newtons whilst singing, “It’s rich and chewy gooey on the inside, golden flakey cakey on the outside….it’s the big Fig Newton, here comes the tricky part, it’s the big Fig Newton, ok one more time, it’s the…” Ingenious. Right? Another year I rocked “Big Bird”
I’m not going to lie.
I was actually a chicken, but a few everybody thought I was Big Bird so we’ll just go with that. Personally, I have never known Big Bird to wear big puffy yellow bloomers, yellow tights, yellow shower cap, short beak and strategically placed feathers, walking around bocking. But that’s just me…just saying. Elly May Clampett (this is the real Elly) was another big hit for me. Don’t act like you are to young to know who she was! She was the animal loving, chimp toting daughter on “The Beverly Hillbillies” Well, I love animals AND we do have a lot of the same characteristics, I was a dead ringer! Nice, I also came across this picture of what she looks like now. This brings us to (RELAX! I’m almost done. Remember. I’m. Venting.) the year of “Pixie Lake” a.k.a. the hooker.
I’m not going to lie.
It scared me that I had so much fun putting that get-up together. It scared me that I had the clothes to put that get-up together. Pixie was a short lived character, her “Trick or Treat” ideals were not acceptable.. Last but not least was Mary. Much to my surprise, I pretty much owned Halloween that year. “you are so creative…” “oh my gosh, I would have never thought…” “honey, come here, you’ve gotta see this…” “brilliant idea…” I know…even I was shocked.
I’m not going to lie.
As much as I’d like to take credit for being the master of all disguises, carefully planning each and every detail, I literally had an hour to figure out a costume. That’s not even enough time to go get a K-Mart Blue Light Special. I think Mary might have even been my favorite….there was just something about her.
I’m done venting, but I’m not going to lie
I totally miss Trick or Treating.

Look all all these creative goodies!!!!

Candy Corn Pudding Butterscotch pudding on the bottom, vanilla (dyed with yellow food coloring) in the middle, whipped topping on top. (you can make this kid friendly by using clear plastic tumblers.) Paper Jewels

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Apple Bites Just quarter and core an apple, cut a wedge from the skin side of each quarter, then press slivered almonds in place for teeth.
Family Fun

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Melon Brain Remove the green rind from a small seedless watermelon exposing the inner white rind. Carve narrow channels with a sharp paring knife to expose the pink fruit beneath the rind.
Family Fun

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Breadstick Mummy Dogs Made with Pillsbury Breadstick dough and hot dogs. Using mustard or ketchup for the eye. Visit Picky Palate for detailed directions!

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Adam’s Scary Apples Make red and black candy apples, finish them off with spooky twigs instead of sticks. Matt from mattbites.com will walk you through this process step by step

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Wormy Ice Cubes All you need are gummy worms or other creepy crawler candy, ice cube trays and fruit punch. Stick ‘em in a drink! (*note- I am making these with or without kids…maybe even year round)
Food Network

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Creepy Crawly Brownie Bite Spiders Cut fresh baked brownies, roll into balls. Cover in chocolate candy coating and decorate with licorice, raspberry candy and sprinkles. Visit Paula Deen’s Recipes to learn how! (NOT recommended for those who are Arachnophobic)

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Spaghetti and Eyeballs Perfect meal for the little monsters ones any time of year. Make your own or visit parentingteens.about.com to get their recipe for Spaghetti and Meatballs. Use green olives stuffed with pimentos for the eyes.

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* updated Vampire Bloody Lollipops I know it’s after the fact, but I just came across these and had to add them. There’s next year, right? Head over to Tissuepapers and get step by step directions to make these delightful looking treats!

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Blast from the past…
Originally posted May 2008

It was Christmas day.
It was a few years ago, but oh how fresh it is in my mind.
My face blended well with the red lights that adorn the tree.

It started out like any other Christmas day. We were up at 6 a.m., however I was awake at 4 a.m. pacing the bedroom floor anxious to see what Santa had brought me, I mean the kids. After all was said and done, (by the way I got squat that year!) we ate breakfast, (Costco muffins, I refused to cook after getting squat!) we showered and headed off to my parents for our traditional Christmas dinner.
For some reason, I’m thinking every flippin’ relative I have was there. From siblings to my aunt’s cousins step-daughters nephew. One person was too many that day, in a minute you’ll understand why. Relax…I’m getting there.
Too cool to hang with the old folks, my son and nephew (not my aunt’s cousins step-daughters nephew) sat in front of the stereo talking…I assume about boy/men ‘stuff.’ They, for whatever reason decided to call a radio station to request a song. No harm in that right? Except the D.J. completely blew them off over and over again and continued playing Tra-La-La-La-La songs. It is Christmas after all, even though I got squat at least the Christmas music is keeping me in the spirit.
Now they have a brilliant idea,
“Mom, you’re a girl(?) you call…he’ll listen to you!”
Tis the season, I can’t say no. I was still hoping for that present after all, so I agreed. As I start to dial I ask what song they wanted me to request.
“Big Balls by AC/DC.”
“Come again…..you want to hear what????”
(I can’t believe I am admitting this on the WWW) Being the cool mom I am….I continued with the phone call. (all the while in th background my mom is informing us it is almost time to eat.) (I brought my leftover Costco muffins.) (Blueberry)
Ring. Ring.
“Merry Christmas, KXXX Radio”
“Hi…um, I wanted to request a song?”
“Wow, you have a sexy voice…”
So now I am walking to a back room for privacy, this wasn’t going to be an easy call. Blushing like a 14 year old girl who was talking to a boy for the first time, I continue.
“I do?” I mean “I do!!”
“You sound hot!”
“Naw…giggle, giggle,” as I take a quick glance at the mirror.
“I bet you have a lot of boyfriends.”
“Naw” as I break out in a heat flash.
Now bear in mind I am doing this for the sake of the kids, it had nothing to do with getting my ego stroked…..even a little.
“But I do have a song request!”
“Oh, yes….anything, what can I play for you?”
Oh gees Louise, now I have to verbalize this song to this raunchy D.J. dude, “Um….Big Balls by…”
“Oh you tiger, I know who sings that”
“It’s for my kids.”
“Sure it is honey.”
I scream. Not the someone help me scream, but the scream of a 14 year old who who has just talk to a boy for the first time!
“Thank you so much!”
“Anytime hot mama.” (o.k. thats a lie, but he did say anytime!)
Click. I hung up to the calling of my mom who informed me they are waiting on me.
“Sorry, I had an important call to make,” as I wink at the kids its a done deal.
Now my mom tells us to turn the stereo off so we can say Grace. Does she not have a clue what I just subjected myself to. Can she not see the 8 shades of red that still adorns my face? So…just as my son approaches the stereo you hear the screams of a 14 year old girl from those big Hi Fi speakers. Not the someone help me scream, but the scream of a 14 year old who who has just talk to a boy for the first time!
It was a familiar scream.
It was my scream. (but who cares…really no one knows it’s me…and it was just a scream)

From there on out everything was in s l o w m o t i o n.
My family, now standing in a circle holding hands can’t possibly reconize the scream. But before my son hit the button my conversation with this raunchy D.J. dude proceeding the scream, played in full. You could hear a pin drop. The conversation which seemed to last forever finally ended. I try to play it off, but they knew, they all knew.
The kids are laughing hysterically.
My mom used my middle name.
Damn.
It was one thing I acted like a 14 year giddy girl flirting with a raunchy D.J. dude, it was a whole different story I was calling to request Big Balls. My phone rings, it rings again….and again. Seems everybody was tuned in to KXXX this wonderful Christmas morning. Sweet, innocent Heidi’s cover had been blown. Some have never acknowledged the incident since, others…well, I will never hear the end of it.
So did he ever play Big Balls? How could he resist such a sexy voice! So I did get squat after all…I got my 15 seconds of fame!
Merry Christmas kids.

A blast from the past, originally posted 2/27/10

A few weeks ago I mentioned I had gotten a tattoo as a tribute to my oldest son who is a cancer survivor. (he has been in remission for 317 days…not that I’m counting) Now, I sailed through my last two…this one? Not so much. I had anticipated pain and I actually kind of like it. Did I anticipate the pain being comparable to that of having 1,000′s of small nails pounded into my veins causing the sensation my toes were seconds away from exploding? Not so much, I kind of didn’t like that. I was a trooper though and after a high-five and a fist bump with the tattoo artist paying for my new ink I hobbled to my car.
It was pretty sore the next few days, and the next few days after that. I hadn’t anticipated the healing process to take so long, nor did I anticipate redness, swelling or the pain that accompanied it. Although my “foot tattoo leads to amputation” “death caused by foot tattoo” Google searches only directed me to encouraging news, I wasn’t convinced. I might have even snapped into O.C.D. mode. You can ask my family, you can ask my friends…heck, you can even ask the sales lady at Target that directed towards the cream you use for red, swollen, painful tattoos.
“Follow me” she says, “I just found it for someone else for the same thing.”
Somebody else might need an amputation too? The tattoo industry sure is going to pot!
“Oh really?” I asked pointing to my foot, “Did theirs look like this?”
“No, I…I think it was a butterfly.”
Clearly that’s not what I meant. The fact that I had even turned to the Target lady was humiliating enough. Responding would only make it worse…if that’s possible.
Suddenly, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. I remembered I had a doctors appointment in a few days, I could just have him look at my foot while I’m there. He would be able to assure me everything is fine, or he could tell me having my foot amputated was the least of my worries. Maybe that light at the end of the tunnel is really an oncoming train?
The morning of my appointment, I was thrilled to see my foot was redder and much more swollen. At least I wouldn’t appear to be such an O.C.D. hypochondriac. Right? I finished up the appointment but for some reason was hesitant to bring my foot up, the red, swollen, irritated, tattooed foot. Was I in denial? Possibly, as inevitable as it was, nobody wants to hear, “yes, we will need to amputate your foot. Do you have someone to drive you home today?” I put my big girl panties on and explained my dilemma. The doctor took a quick glance as he walked back over to me,
“Looks like cellulitis ”
“Huh?” I quickly came to my foots defense, “Because it’s swollen…because it’s red and swollen? Both my feet are swollen, look at both of them…they’re fat…I have fat feet!!!” I wailed.
Still standing on the examination table with a syringe in each hand, I warned them not to come any closer. My obsession of being reassured had just backfired on me. After a closer inspection, both the doctor and his nurse were in agreement that it looked o.k. The nurse explained she had a tattoo in the same place, and it did the same thing. (I wonder if it’s a butterfly and she bought her cream at Target? hmm…)
“It’s a very tender area…every time you walk…it takes much longer to heal.” Helllooo?? To be on the safe side, I was given some antibiotics. If all went well, I wouldn’t need my foot amputated. As I walked to my car on my fat feet, I had a skip in my step…I had really handled that pretty well! I took an antibiotic when I got home, and another before bed. I generously applied the topical antibiotic to my (irritated but not infected with cellulitis, newly inked, fat) foot, laid down and closed my eyes. (continue)

With American Idol season back in full swing, I thought it would be the perfect time to do a Blast From The Past featuring my famous Excuse Me, Pardon Me, Get Out Of My Way story.
Originally posted Jan. 31, 2009

Reality Bytes- Part 3

I easily become addicted to this show each and every year. I’m not so big on the whole audition thing…although I never miss a minute. I already have my favorites, as usual they won’t even make it through the first week “Hell Week” in Hollywood. Then I will pick a few more favorites, one may make it to the top 10, the others will be on Dr. Drews Celebrity Rehab in 2010 and I will be the only one that even remembers them. I will have it be known, I did call Ruben Studdard the winner after seeing his audition….Ruben who?
I’m really liking the new judge Kara DioGuardi, she is….well, normal. She looks like a brunette version of Holly Madison from “The Girls Next Door” Ya think? Maybe not so much in these pictures, but pay attention. You’ll find yourself going, “yep, Heidi was right!” Randy is cool, a little too cool unless your name is DAWG. I will have to Google it, but I bet he is somehow responsible for the songs, “Who Let The Dawgs Out,” “The Dawg And The Butterfly,” “Black Dawg,” “Atomic Dawg,” “You Aint Nothing But A Hound Dawg,” etc… And Paula, well I do like her when she’s there, both physically and mentally. Physically, she’s a trooper and very dependable. Mentally, not so much. Ding-dong! I like Simon, from a distance. He is brutally honest, but does have a soft side to him. I am hoping perhaps Kara will step up to the plate and take that man shopping for some manly man shirts. (but don’t tell him I said that!!!)
I get tickets each season right around the time #4 gets the boot. I have actually only gone once, Season 3…barely. X amount of tickets are given out for each show. It states on the ticket that if you are unable to attend to call the number provided. My guess would be so they actually know what kind of turn out they will have and be prepared. Taping starts at blah, blah. Get there by blah, blah. Be in line by blah, blah. I was so excited to go. A) I love the show. B) It would make for a nice afternoon out. We were right on time to leave the house, with minutes to spare. For sure we would be there by blah, blah. Of course that would be too easy. Just before we left I had a full blown panic attack and it was a doozy. We finally got out the door, but not by blah, blah. We were indeed running late. Not a problem I thought, I’ll just call the number on the ticket and tell them what happened, they will understand and save us a seat. Alright, humor me…it sounded logical at the time. I called back a bit later and gave the nice guy an update as to how close we were getting. As if he freaking cared!!!!!
→ (O.K. this is where the story gets good)
We arrive with a mere 300 or so people preceding us in line. It’s not looking good. While standing in the hot, noisy, long, line we meet a few other suckers. (all in front of us at least) I was really surprised how far some of these people drove without a guarantee of even getting in, although, our hour drive seemed like forever. After about a 30 minute wait, there was an announcement. “Do to an unexpected guest performing tonight, and the number of V.I.P tickets that were needed….we will not be able to accommodate (all you nobody’s) as many people as we had anticipated. We apologize. This cannot affect me, after all I had called, twice. I had a panic attack, I talked to somebody, I told them how close we were. Surely there are seats being save for us!!! The next recollection I have they are making another announcement. “Thank you for coming. We are filled to our capacity. We apologize.” Dear God, I did not have a panic attack for nothing. I looked at my boyfriend (who by the way was less than thrilled to be there to begin with) straight in the eye and said, “I am not leaving, I am going in there.” Many people had started leaving, many stayed, more left. Another announcement, “We will be letting 10 to 20 more people in shortly as seat fillers.” They continue, “You are not guaranteed to get a seat, you will be on stand by…just in case.” So…if someone goes potty during break, you sit in their chair until they are done. Lovely. At this point there are 167 people still ahead of us. Seeing how restless my boyfriend is getting, I reassure him I’m still not leaving. “Come on Heid…think about it, chances are….” “I am not leaving, I am going in there.”
As we stand at the end of the line, I begin my mission. I see two gentlemen towards the front of the line but off to the side. They have V.I.P. passes dangling from around their neck. They weren’t big guys, I’m thinking we can take them down, grab their passes and make a run for it. My boyfriend declined to help me. I do the next best thing. I step out of line parallel with them, across 167 people make eye contact with them, then make my move. I hold up two fingers, my secret signal letting them know there are two of us. OMG! They nod their heads and motion for us to come up to them. Standing tall and proud I grab my b/f’s hand, who at this time had no clue what was going on, and march past 167 people, 167 unhappy people. We follow these men to a door that leads us to the back entrance of the studio. Once inside, the four of us go through security and are escorted to our seats. At this point there had been no verbal communication at all with these guys. Because of their V.I.P. passes and the route we were led in I assumed they were American Idol staff, then they sat next to us. Still in shock over what had just transpired in a matter of minutes, I managed to utter the words thank you! They just smiled and said we hope you enjoy the show!! When I was finally able to speak again I told them until they sat down with us I thought they were with American Idol. The guy I was sitting next to said they worked on the lot but were on The Young And The Restless and just got done shooting. They were given four passes but two of the people couldn’t make it. “You just stood out” Ummm…yeah because I was stalking you! “You signaled there were two of you, and it just worked out.” Ummm…yeah cause I wasn’t leaving! I don’t watch The Young And The Restless so I had no clue who they were but they were my new best friends!!! We had a great time with them, they particularly liked the special appearance by Clay Aiken. *wink* We couldn’t thank them enough as we all walked out together and said goodbye. I’m pretty sure I skipped all the way back to the car, and sang too. Once settled and on our way home, I looked my boyfriend straight in the eye and said, “I told you I was going in there.” His reply, “I never really doubted it….I know you too well.”
Seriously, is that not a great story? You know it is!

HA!

Blast from the past…
Originally posted Nov. 20, 2008

On my honor, I will try: to serve God and my country….Jesus loves me this I know for the Bible tells me so….in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice…grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can…I have the right to remain silent, anything I say can be used against me….I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States….I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth ….forgive me Father for I have sinned….bad boy, bad boy, what’cha gonna do when they come for you…

With racing thoughts and that feeling of an impending doom, the second it happened my body went into anxiety mode.

I then caught a quick glimpse of my future…..

Fortunately, the logical part of me stepped back in, and brought me back to reality.

You know the little things you would hear as a child, “if you step on a crack, you’ll break your mama’s back.” You’re pretty sure that’s not going to happen, but err with caution just in case. As an adult you know it’s not possible….but occasionally that inner child kicks back in. You find yourself, secretly making an effort to step over that crack ahead of you…for old times sake. When you first start noticing these hideous little things growing on your skin.
“They are freckles honey.”
“Well I don’t want freckles.”
“You don’t? Did you know that every time you get a new freckle, it means an Angel has kissed you?” So now you feel like the most loved child on earth. You begin to make a conscious effort to see if other kids had freckles….and how many. Now older and wiser, you know the truth but sometimes finding a new freckle can still bring a smile to your face.

I remember playing with a pillow one day while visiting my grandparents, holding it by the “tag” and dangling it around. My grandma said, “Be careful Annie, you might rip that off.” (Annie was my nickname growing up. It means “our favorite grandchild.” Or something.) I didn’t really know what the big deal was, but as usual, I complied. (that is how I earned all those Angel kisses!) Still playing around, obediently, I happened to look at the tag. That’s when I saw it, and it all made sense; Under Penalty of Law, This Tag Not To Be Removed. My grandma knew, she new what would happen to me if I ripped the “tag” off, I would go to jail! I had already pulled the “tag” off my very own pillow at home and now I’m a little worried. What if my mom found out…what if anyone found out? I held this little secret close to my heart for awhile, not even out of grade school and I was already a law-breaker. I eventually confided to my best friend. She laughed hysterically at me until I showed her the “tag” on her pillow. We read it together, Under Penalty of Law, This Tag Not To Be Removed, in smaller letters underneath it said, Except By The Consumer
“What’s a consumer?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think I’m old enough to be one though.”
It took some investigating, but I did find out….I was a consumer. Still didn’t really know what that meant, but I knew I was one of ‘em! So much for grandma wanting to spare my future as a convict, she was just worried about her damn pillow!

But the little “what if’s” remain. What if…I stepped on a crack, what if…the neighbor had more freckles than me, what if….I pulled the tag off my pillow? See the pattern? See it? Something is telling me O.C.D. has played a bigger part in my life than I care to admit! So yes, today, when I ACCIDENTALLY yanked the tag clean from my pillow. The second it happened my body went into anxiety mode, with racing thoughts and that feeling of an impending doom. But, I’m O.K, Annie’s O.K. As fast as the anxiety came, reality set back in.

Now older and (so much) wiser, I know the truth. But occasionally I like finding a new freckle or secretly making an effort to step over that crack ahead of me. Apparently I’m still working on that consumer/tag thing though.

As I finish writing this, I’m kinda feeling a little anxious again. Just wondering…did I unconsciously pass this down to another generation? I don’t remember, did I or didn’t I ever tell my kids that their stuffed animals don’t really turn into Angels that watch over them once they’re asleep? Do they know that the dancing light in the car isn’t really Tinkerbell, it’s the reflection from my watch? Do they know that it’s not really a law that you have to brush your teeth first thing in the morning? You know…they may even still wonder if the sun really hisses when it touches the ocean at sunset.

XOXO,

Blast from the past,,,
Originally posted January 2nd, 2008

If The Shoe Fits! While out looking for a new pair of slippers, I came across a Mr. Potato Head slipper. I jokingly told my shopping companion, (no name, gave me $ and chocolate!) “too bad there’s only one of those…I would have gotten them!” A lady, slightly older than myself overheard me and asked, “if I find the other one for you, you’ll buy them?” Uh-oh!!! “well yeah, if they’re my size.” She gave me the look, you know the…try them on you idiot before I dig through 3,472 mismatched slippers to find the matching Mr. Potato Head.
I did. It fit. Long story short, I got new slippers.

Dumpster Diving! So I have my new slippers and quite honestly I grew very fond of them. I wore those little guys all the time. One night…one late night I, (living in an apartment complex at the time) took the trash out to the dumpster. I was, as usual on the phone. As I hurled the trash into the dumpster, so went the phone. What the….do I do now? (after a small conference with my ducks) it was clear I needed to go in after it. I went and got a patio chair from my porch. Hoping the person on the phone realized what had happened, I encouraged them to keep screaming my name so I could find my phone. After all it was very dark and I didn’t want to spend a second longer in there than needed.
I got in and got the phone. Just as I was ready to get out a car pulls in, next to the dumpster. O.K., be still, he will never see you… (I wonder how many rats are lurking below me ready to attack me?) I was grossed out. I was freaking out. The person on the phone, Deanna had hung up, the ducks were too smart to ever get in there in the first place. I was on my own. Just get out of your damn car already and go inside. I don’t know if he saw me or the chair outside the dumpster but something sparked his curiosity. “Hi” was all I could think to say. “You o.k?” he asked. “Yes, just dropped something.” Was the most intelligible thing I could think of. “Oh….” (so why on God’s earth are you still standing in there talking to me?) I knew I had to get out sooner or later…here it goes. Dignity? Pride? Gone! This man (and I would use his name if I knew it!) will always remember me as the 40ish year old lady who, in the middle of the night he watch climb out of a dumpster, clad in p.j.’s , one Mr. Potato Head slipper at a time!

I’ve Really Lost It Now! I loved my Mr. Potato slippers so much. But they had walked the depths of the dumpster. No matter how many times I washed them, I just couldn’t bring myself to wear them again. (they, were what separated me from the attack rats!)
Off to Wal-Mart I go to get another pair. None. Another Wal-Mart. Zilch. The next, nope. But check this out, they had….Mrs. Potato Head!!!!!! ONE pair in MY size. I snatched the babies up faster than…well, I snatched them up fast.
Tra-la-la-la la-la la! I got new slippers!
I continued my little shopping trip (doing the happy dance every now and then!!) then headed up to the register, anxious to pay for my new treasures….that’s when I noticed, IT was missing. The left Mrs. Potato Head slipper was gone. Breathe. It has to be here somewhere. I re-walked my path. Nothing. Re-walked it again, looking under, over and around the racks. Nothing. I am panicking now. I NEED HELP! I asked a kind associate in the area if she had found a sole slipper lying around. No. Bless this Wal-Mart associates heart, she saw my meltdown coming on and offered to help me look and even enlisted the help of another associate. “What did it look like?”
“Pink”
“Could you be more specific?”
“Pink and purple.”
We walked the store, than again. Honest to God, I was near tears. I think that is why they were so willing to go above and beyond to help me.
“These must be very special slippers,”
“Yeah.”
“Are they for you?”
“Yeah.”
The nice (but nosey) lady then gets a beep on her Wal-Mart walkie-talkie. Seems I need to be a little more specific about what these special slippers look like. Now, I have a choice…walk away NOW and never look back or tell these nosey associates my slipper business. I chose to tell. Hmmm mmm…she clears her throat. Amused and a little pissed at the same time, she relays the details on her Wal-Mart walkie-talkie. She assures me at that point they will keep their eyes open; they will call me if they find anything, yadda, yadda. What? Are they not helping me look anymore? Isn’t that their job?? It was right about then, I hear the announcement. It was loud, very loud and very clear. “Will the (annoying) lady who lost her (left) Mrs. Potato Head slipper (and had the whole flippen store searching for it as if it were a lost child) please come to the front of the store (so everyone can see who you are and laugh at you hysterically) we have found your slipper.
Don’t judge. Please.

With my baby just turning 24, I thought this Blast From The Past would be appropriate right about now. It’s hard to believe at the tender age of 31, (give or take a few years) I could have a 27 and a 24 year old. Hard to believe these little guys are both over 6 feet tall now and no longer obsessed with boots and lipstick (sorry boys, but I have the pictures to prove it!) The hardest thing to believe? They are actually best friends now. I do believe in miracles. Without further ado…the lights of my life.
Originally posted January 30th, 2009.

I have been sorting through pictures these past few days. Remember in the olden days, when you snapped a picture and as soon as the roll of film was done you ran to the local drugstore, dropped it off and eagerly waited 10 days for it to be developed? You always ordered double prints so grandma and aunt Betsy could have some, only to find 4 pictures that were actually viewable. At first you were very diligent about keeping your treasures organized and in albums, but eventually all hell broke loose. You are now left with boxes of loose photos not having a clue who or what they are of. I decided it was time to at least organize my kids pictures and catch up on their albums but the more I go through…the worse I feel.

You both are so cute, so loving and have so much personality!

I don’t know why I would allow you to wear a necktie to kindergarten each day, then skate around the neighborhood. I must say you were quite the trend setter back then!

What was I thinking when I matched you head to toe….in not so masculine clothes,
I promise I corrected every last person that said, “she’s gorgeous”

You are my pride and joy. The three of us were always together!

But maybe it wasn’t a good idea to put you in spandex shorts
and get on with our day in our matching Batman t-shirts…

I was so proud that by your second birthday you were potty
trained and now wearing “big boy” chonies!!

Bless your heart, you tried so hard to walk in them….
I swear at the time I thought it was cute!

Madonna called…she said she wants her boots and butterfly belt buckle back.
We’ll blame your dad for this one!! Love you! (who can we blame for that carpet??)

Surprise!! We were on vacation and guess who got all gussied-up for dinner
all by himself? You were the cutest thing ever! Everybody thought…. nobody saw you….

You and your “bestie” were always so trendy….

Trying to teach you independence and responsibility, Mom sends you out for
a day of errands, unfortunately you had to do it without your super cool shades…..

….I was sporting them and my super cool 80′s suit at the beach

Yes boys, mom has her moments too!!

The pictures obviously are endearing to me, however if I were to show them to anyone….
I have many more to conquer, which I’m sure will lead to more laughs, a few tears and probably a few more posts!!! I love you boys

There is a light at the end of the tunnel…I just hope it’s not an oncoming train! I have so neglected my site, but life is finally starting to slow down a bit, I hope! With that being said, I share with you another blast from the past! Originally posted February 11, 2008

So my son bought a new car a few months ago. Well, at 21 you CANNOT have a new car without G.P.S. It annoys the heck out of me. I call her Belle and she has absolutely no personality. How did we, ‘in the olden days’ ever find our way around? (barefoot in the snow)

You spend a small fortune for an emotionless voice to tell you where to go, not to mention by the time you enter all the information for Belle to process you could be half way to your destination. Part of me wants to “be hip” so I designed my own device. H.I.P. Heidi’s Ingenious Plan

It’s cheap.
It’s user friendly.
It’s portable, transfer it between your cars in seconds!

How does it work you ask?
You simply attach it (with velcro) to your dashboard facing towards you. It is at eye level, you will never lose your signal, etc…
So now you have made it to your destination but how do you find your way home?

You simply detach from the velcro, flip it upside down and WALA!
Now that’s H.I.P.