Oh how many feet you meet.

 I have some hidden talents that many of you may not be aware of. We will keep it this way. However, I feel that you probably know enough of my overgrown thoughts for me to share with you the fact that I have enormous feet.  9 1/2 to be exact - on a good day/in a good pair of shoes.

Nowadays I call this bragging rights. Although years ago this was not the case. Back in my younger days I frequently got picked on for my large shoe size and "frodo feet".

And then. . . I remember reading The Foot Book By: Dr. Seuss and my world began to change. Suddenly I was proud of my left foot, right foot, feet feet feet, oh how many feet you meet. I would practice my slow feet, quick feet, trick feet, and sick feet.

 Needless to say, I had the entire book memorized, which was a feat or should I say feet (no pun intended) considering I remember crying when being forced to learn to read (thanks mom for sticking with me).

Nowadays, I strut my stuff proudly. I've learned to accept that my large and in charge feet can do many things that the individuals in "Little People, Big World" cannot do (no offense, but its a great comparison). For example, I am great at picking things up with my toes, receiving foot massages, and tight rope walking. Okay, so I may have lied about the tight rope walking, but I am definitely adding it to my bucket list.

And thanks to my lack of ability to fall asleep and too much time on my hands. . . I will do my tight rope walking in style... or at least with trashy neon green, with purple tips, and hideous pink flower toenails.

You've Got Mail

With all the electronic forms of communication it is rare that I receive a handwritten letter that comes via U.S postal service. Typically when I open my mailbox it is only to find a bill from comcast or a flyer for the pizza joint down the road.

However, today things were different. And no, mail does not come on Sunday here either, but I hadn't checked it for a few days so I was hopeful my luck would change. And it had - or so I thought.

As I opened my mailbox I pulled out nothing less then a handwritten envelope addressed to "The Kunkel Family". I may not consider myself a traditional family unit, but I'm still a family - even if there is just 1 of me.

In the upper right hand corner there was merely a return address neatly inscribed, no hint of the sender. Immediately the thought of a letter with anthrax caught my attention; however, I quickly dismissed the idea and proceeded to rip the envelope open in excitement.

And inside I found the following note:

Dear Kunkel Family,

I have not been able to speak with you personally, but I have some important information that I want to share with you.

Now a days people have access to more information then ever before, but where do you think we can find sound counsel that can help us to lead happy, successful lives? The tract that is enclosed directs us to the Bible for that wise counsel. I hope you enjoy reading this Bible based tract.

Please feel free to contact me at the above address or by phone XXX-XXX-XXXX.

Sincerely,

Pat

Of course there was also an insert from the local Jehovah's Witness to accompany the letter. Initially I was disappointed by the note  from the stranger - and yes, the idea of anthrax again came to mind. However, after the initial disappointment eased, I began to drift my mind to other things. Such as, who on earth has the time to write handwritten notes to all the families in town? And why do I get so excited about letters from the people I know and disappointed that a stranger took the time to write me a special personalized note? Or are they really that concerned about me receiving sound counsel?

Regardless of my excitement and disappointment that comes and goes, it was nice to know that somebody cares enough to take the time to write a letter and drop it in the mailbox. Obviously it got my attention. I am blogging about it aren't I?

 And the take home story is - Drum roll please. . .. 

I challenge you to send 1 letter/card this week to somebody you care about. Maybe somebody you haven't talked to in a while or maybe it's your roommate or spouse. Take the time to hand write the note, drop it in the mailbox, and I promise you will brighten somebodies day.

The Stinky Kid

Neat, Tidy, Un-Cluttered, Well-Groomed, Orderly, Kempt, Immaculate, Unblemished, Sanitary, and Fresh. All are synonyms of Clean. Although I'm not sure why I would be interested in these words when what I should be looking at are the Antonyms. These are what describe me best - Cluttered, Dirty, Filthy, Foul, Stained, Tarnished, Polluted, Soil, and Grime. You get the point.

I don't want to paint the picture that I am the neighbor kid who clearly hasn't showered in a few days and you can smell his scent drift in through the kitchen window as he passes by. Although, I would be fooling you if I said I actually enjoyed taking showers on the weekends (I get bored easily). I feel like this should be my time off and God definitely made Sunday a day of rest for a reason.

When I moved into my apartment I liked the idea of not having to clean up after anybody else. No more unscrubbed dishes, Cathy hair (if you don't know what this means then don't ask) floating around, or toothpaste dried onto the sink. I was pumped to say the least...

Now here I am, looking around my apartment and nobody to blame except myself. I have days of laundry piled sky high, week old left overs pushed to the back of the fridge, and stacks of unopened mail on the table where I supposedly eat dinner. As if that isn't bad enough - I haven't shaved my legs in days, I've forgotten where the On switch is on my vacuum, and I don't even own a mop. Oy Vey!

Perhaps I should re-implement Tidy Up Tuesday? Or, on the other hand. . . Maybe I will just continue to go through life as the Stinky Kid. I mean. . . I have done pretty well so far. What do you think?

Jump On It. Jump On It.

Every morning I listen to my theme song. My theme song typically changes on a daily basis and depends on my mood and what I have in store for the day. The song of choice is usually something upbeat; however, on those groggy days it has been known to resemble something more like funeral music.

However, lately I have been listening to a little Billy idol in the AM's - "Dancing With Myself". I'm pretty sure I have found a keeper. . .I debated putting up a video of me doing my morning routine to my theme song, but I thought me jumping up and down on my bed in my underwear may get my blog flagged as "Must be over 18 to enter". So needless to say, you will have to settle with something much less entertaining, but with much better sound quality then me belting out the words into my hairbrush.

Enjoy

“I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you.”



It's just another manic monday.

When I used to teach preschool we would sing this song to help the kids learn the days of the week. Unfortunately Uncle Fester, Pugsley, or Cousin It never made a guest appearance at the center. Although I will admit that a hairless or hairy creature certainly would have made that career choice much more enjoyable. 

Now, a year later and onto bigger and better things (although that is a questionable statement on some days)

I have begun to stray from my childhood favorites and have managed to stumble upon possibly much more suitable and appropriate titles for my days of the week. For Example:

Mystery Monday

Tipsy Tuesday

Wacky Wednesday

Thirsty Thursday

Fun Friday

You get the picture. Of course depending on the day it may turn into a Manic, Migraine, or Margarita Monday. Possibly even a Wordless, Wonderful, or Wine Wednesday.

Well now that your up to speed on my name game, I shall fill you in on my Thursday. I'm not sure what name to give it. Perhaps Twisted? Tired? Tearful? Or maybe just another day in the life of Emily. That is probably the best way to describe my "adventure".

I started my day off on the right foot. I was showered and had a diet coke. How could things go wrong? However, quicker then a wink of the eye I found myself face to face with a young whipper-snapper who clearly wanted to slug anything anybody in her way. Which obviously included me. As the day wore on it was clearly going to be one of those days. One crisis after another. It was filled with violence and vulgarity (is that even a word).

I managed to escape the day for an hour to go to the Doctor for my scheduled check-up. For me, the Doctor is a synonym for another D letter word - Devil. However, with the hectic day I was having even a trip to the Doctor and being violated somehow appeared to be a positive thing.

Following my appointment I was on the way to a home visit for one of my clients. As I was driving along, minding my own business, about a block from my destination what should happen?

Squeal, Honk, Bam.

Yes, that is the noise of me slamming on the breaks of Ol' Betsy.

Yes, that is the noise of me honking Ol' Betsy's horn.

And Yes, that is the noise of me slamming into the side of the green pickup truck that just happened to pull out in front me because he "didn't even see ya there".

Up, Up, Up flies his hubcap.

Up, Up, Up flies my license plate

As I pulled off to the side of the road, I calmly and collectively got out of Ol' Betsy and asked the 30-something, balding young man if he was injured. Without taking a breath he responded with the fact that he was driving his friends truck and "on his way" to pay get his car insurance. Fabulous - Just my luck.

After stating that he was on his phone and just didn't see me, he recommended just paying for the damage without a report being written. I think not. Luckily I have the police department on speed dial (one of the perks (?) of having a dangerous job). While waiting for the officer to arrive on the scene we chit chatted. He was a schmoozer and I was polite. The officer wrote the report and this fella and I exchanged cards.

Am I really that old that I should be exchanging cards? I remember the days when I would jot my number on a guys forearm. However, I felt slightly more confident about my car being fixed knowing that he at least was contributing to society in some way, shape, or form.

As I got into my car to proceed to my home visit (yes, I'm dedicated), the schmoozer recommended we get lunch/dinner following my car being fixed. As a victory? As a date? As an apology? Either way, I pulled the polite card.

No Thank You.

in need of a 'lil comic relief

I've spent a significant amount of time looking for a comic that illustrates a water leak. When you plug the hole with your finger another leak sprouts. Soon you are using both hands and feet to plug holes, as well as your tongue and any other means you find necessary. Does this make sense at all? Well it makes sense to me so I wish I could have found the comic so you could fully understand as well. No such luck.

I feel like my life is a bathtub. Okay, more like the Hoover Dam. As soon as I find the necessary tools to fix one leak/problem, another one sprouts. Or just as I am almost done repairing the hole, it becomes larger so I am forced to find a more permanent fix. Apparently the juicy fruit gum or mermaid band-aid isn't going to make the cut. And no this does not have anything to do with a hole in my tire or any other mechanical part on Ol' Betsy that has recently gone wrong. The strange rumbling noise when I accelerate is an entirely different story, worth it's own posting, and is yet to come.

So why all the hype? Whats the point? Great question. I wish I had a permanent fix or at least an ace bandage that might hold for longer then a day or two - But I don't. So in the meantime, I guess I will pull out my old magic 8 ball and see which of the 20 responses I end up with and live my life accordingly.

● As I see it, yes
● It is certain
● It is decidedly so
● Most likely
● Outlook good
● Signs point to yes
● Without a doubt
● Yes
● Yes – definitely
● You may rely on it
● Reply hazy, try again
● Ask again later
● Better not tell you now
● Cannot predict now
● Concentrate and ask again
● Don't count on it
● My reply is no
● My sources say no
● Outlook not so good
● Very doubtful

To Jump Or Not To Jump... That Is The Question

2011 - SnowDay

The last snow day I had was February 13th 2008. This was the first snow day at the University of Illinois since 1979 and trust me. . . I lived it up - 1 bottle of shampoo, 2 flights of stairs, 3 games of chess, and 24 hours of recovery later. Lets just say that Valentines Day that year was far from my favorite holiday.

And now here we are, almost two full years later and apparently we had a Blizzard last Wednesday. Or as I prefer to call it "Adult Snow day". As a child I never had the luxury of a snow day. I mean after all, I was home schooled so the idea of a snow day was unrealistic to this mind. Now, 24 years later I have come to realize just what I have been missing all these years. . .

First of all, I never believe the weather person. They say 80 degrees and it turns out to be 60. They say dry and it turns out to be a tycoon. They say tornado and it turns out to be clear sky's. You get the picture. Well last week when they said blizzard and 12-20 inches of snow, I just shrugged and walked out the door. On a typical morning I open the shades, take a gander outside, and then decide how to dress. I don't recall the last time I actually sat down and watched the weather channel. I'm more like Karen from Mean Girls "There's a 30% chance that it's already raining!".

Back to the story. . . Or maybe it is back to the future, because trust me, this is going to happen again. Well it was Tuesday February 1st at approximately 4:30pm. The snow was falling, the wind was blowing, and the roads were invisible. And yes, I decided to shrug and walk out the door as usual. After all, poltergeist and a bottle of wine was waiting (Thanks Kell). Where to park, where to park... The street sounds great.

As we popped in the movie, snuggled up on the couch, and opened a bottle of "Naughty Girl" - the snow began to fall. . . and fall. . . and fall. And blow. . . and blow. . . and blow. About 11:30pm I was ready to go home, but that clearly wasn't going to happen. The foot of snow covering the road was clearly not going to allow it - Slumber party! Luckily for me, Wednesday was officially a snow day, which in my mind says "live it up".

Wednesday morning I woke up to Kelly anxiously jumping up and down on the couch. Time to play. Or shovel? I'm not sure how much snow we officially ended up getting, but I sure had fun shoveling the sidewalk.

This is me admitting that this is the first time I have actually shoveled a sidewalk/driveway. This is me also admitting how badly my body hurt the following day.

As we began to shovel I had a revelation... What would happen when the snowplow finally decided to come down the road? Yes, my car would be completely buried... The solution to this? Plow Kelly's driveway of course so I could back my car off the street.

Was this an easy task? Of course not. In fact, this was more challenging then the sidewalk. However, I still had fun. Solely because I am still a spring chick when it comes to shoveling.  The big task was figuring out where all of Kelly's "treasures" would go.

What treasures you ask? The treasures that Kelly decided to put up in front of her car in order to avoid a huge drift in front of little red.  AKA - you know your a redneck when . . .

Following the hours of shoveling it was officially time to have fun....Or take a break.  Kick off your shoes and relax. Or play Super Mario Bro's on the Wii - Or not. Why not? Because we don't own Mario Bro's, but the neighbor does.

The solution? Use a fishing pole to cast across the street, have the neighbor attach the game, and reel it back it. Perfect solution for two lazy ladies. Unfortunately the neighbor didn't think so.
A couple hours later, we are warm, relaxed, and reved up and ready to go. Time to have an adventure.

Step #1: Kelly climbs from the ground, to the fence, to the fence post.

Step #2: Kelly poses like she just climbed Everest.

Step #3: Kelly gets a running head start

Step #5: Kelly jumps and Emily chops her head off.

Or you could do it in style. . . By the way, this is me -  ninja kicking from the garage to the snowbank.

After a few good jumps it was time. Time to test out Kipkays theory on changing traffic lights from red to green.Could pushing the crosswalk button in a specific sequence really entertain the 2 of us for hours? 

The answer is yes. And what is the sequence you ask? 3 short clicks, 2 long clicks, 1 short click, 2 long clicks,and 3 short clicks. And did the sequence work you ask? Try it for yourself - I dare you.

1 secret code, 2 jumps, 20 inches of snow, and 24 hours later, the road was finally plowed and I was able to venture back home. And this brought our snow day to. . .

The End.