Golden Birthday

A week before Thanksgiving, I was awaken in the dark of the night by a muscle cramp in my right buttocks and thigh. Not like the swimmer’s toe cramp you can just pull out of. Serious stabbing pain that made sleeping scarce. This was not fun. I like fun.

What could have brought this on, you ask? Quite possibly my almost 18-year-old son asking me if he could invite “some” friends over for his golden birthday party that he was planning while I was sitting on the beach in Maui. He would be 18 on the 18th… GOLDEN! His plan was that I would be home to cook for the party, of course. Being the nice mom, I said, “Sure! Invite some friends over.”

Next, said 18-year-old texted me to let me know he made me an administrator on a facebook event for this party for which I was cooking. That didn’t phase me until I clicked on to see why the party needed an event page on facebook. HE HAD INVITED 150 FRIENDS … while I was sitting on the beach in Maui. “Some” does not equal 150 in my mind.

As friends would respond that they couldn’t come, I would go on and type in “Good!” My hope was to scare off the kids that don’t know me well.

It went down like this: Wednesday – arrive home early in the morning from 17 days in Maui. Thursday – shop like a crazy woman. Thursday night 3:27 a.m. – leg cramps. Friday – party with 150 invites.

Thankfully only 75 of the guests showed up. There was much laughter, ping-pong, loud music, gold light-up shoes, streamers, Mexican food, a DJ, chocolate cake, line dancing on the dead grass in the backyard and 58 water bottles were opened and sampled. (Now being used to water my plants.) I am pretty sure the front and rear doors of the house were open wide from 6:00 to 10:00 p.m.

The birthday boy with his cousin, Whitney. So much happy! The golden shoes for the golden birthday really need a picture of their own. Sadly, they were not switched to the on position for this photo.

Here you go. Not only do they light up… they strobe! BAM! Golden birthday success!

More on the massive cramp tomorrow. I promise.

Wonder Woman I am Not

So, if you’ve been reading along on MSJ since my husband and I were cajoled into participating in a Valentine’s Day Dinner Theater with “small speaking parts,” I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to hear how it’s going.  The participants include the youth and college age kids from our church, the youth pastor (32), Rick and I (42) and another sucker guy named Gary (54).  Why, oh why did they ask us?  I’m still not sure.  So, a muscle is pulled on the outside of my hip bone causing me to limp.  I am almost able to perform the hip-hop dances for this “small speaking part.”  I am more than sore… legs and arms… from all the dance practice.  The “Islands in the Stream” duet that Superman and I are singing is coming along fine (for our “small speaking part”) due to the fact that they cut the song in half and made up hilarious background dancier moves to distract from our singing and acting abilities. 

Superman’s costume arrived and I purchased some classy Kenneth Cole black boots that I spray painted bright red for him.  Keeve looked out the back door at the boots and sadly shook his head saying, “Dad’s going to look just like Ronald McDonald.”  Since this is a Super Hero Conference, they told me I could wear “business clothes” as long as they are Wonder Woman colors.  So I bought a tasteful red dress with white polka dots and a bright blue blazer that I’m turning into a cape.  The costume department did come up with my golden arm bands and tiara…. to go on my big, black curly wig.  I’m still in the process of making the lasso of truth and the gold belt.  Not sure what shoes I’ll be wearing yet.  I have to do karate kicks and Michael Jackson slides in them.  Goodwill, here I come.

Tomorrow night is dress rehearsal.  Then Friday night is the show. Tickets are still available!  480-367-8182 Come one.  Come all. Viewing 40 people in spandex will be worth the admission cost alone….. but they threw in dinner too.

The Newly Released Female Phone-etic Alphabet

After yesterday’s comments about the phonetic alphabet and some back-chat from friends and relatives, I have discovered that the phonetic alphabet was created by a MAN at NATO.  (Benjamin Franklin actually came up with the idea, but it was shot down along with his idea of having the turkey as our national bird.) It was quite obviously a man as words included were bravo and whiskey.  I never understood foxtrot or tango???  Undoubtedly he was a dancing man who considered himself a Romeo and traveled to India to play golf under the code names Charlie and Mike.  Sheesh. 

Here is the NEW and IMPROVED FEMALE VERSION for those distinguished women who know what really matters in life.  Yes, I came up with this on my own.  See how valuable my college education was??? Please forward to any female pilots that you may know.  It should stir up some testosterone in the skies.

Aerobics, BlingBling, Chocolate, Diamonds, Earrings, Facial, Girlfriends, Handbag, ILoveYou, Jewelry, KissyKissy, Luncheon, Manicure, Nailpolish, OversizedPurse, Pedicure, QueenOfItAll, Rhinestones, Shopping, Telephone, Underwire, Vavoom, X-Your-Heart-Bra, YoMama, ZebraPrint

And thanks to my sister-in-law, Jennie, of www.bagsforzaza.blogspot.com, here are the numbers in the female version:

Onesie, Twofer, Three’sacrowd, Fourtunate, Fivefofum, SixyPixy, SevenEleven, Eightalltheicecream, NineIsTooLateToStartTryingToMakeUp, Tenuous

It just makes so much more sense, doesn’t it?

BlingBling YoMama Earrings! (The Navajo Code Talkers had nothin’ on us!)