Monday Dare: Apocalypse a’comin’

Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Try, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made before The Project started and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please, feel free to throw them. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”

This week: I will learn to cook. Surely, this is a sign of the Apocalypse. Run, bitches, run.

Sigh.

See? I haven’t even started and I’m already in despair. This is probably a bad sign.

You know what else is a bad sign?

When you boil noodles to make spaghetti and you run upstairs to take the curlers out of your hair and your daughter tells you she smells fire. Why do children like to make shit up?

You tell her it’s probably some nefarious vagrants outside burning leaves but then your smoke detector goes off. God, Harv, seriously? Didn’t I ask you to change those batteries?

You unroll your curlers leisurely, ignoring the sound of the alarm and send a nasty stinky-eye outside.

Lordy, can’t those vagrants take their pyrotechic hobby somewhere else? Their little shenanigans are setting off MY smoke alarm.

Then, you remember all your windows are closed. Wait…..

Oh, yeah, maybe it’s time to check on that spaghetti.

Folks, I can’t distinguish a cheese grater from a teapot but trust me when I tell you, break those noodles in half before you slip them into the pot. Noodles hanging out of pot= fire hazard.

Also, if your husband is on a business trip and you text him to make sure you have some sort of home or fire insurance and he only texts back “yes” without even asking what is going on, it means that you’re not fooling anyone with your shitty cooking skills, so it’s time to buck up and learn to cook.

Sigh.

Any ideas for a quick and easy first recipe I can master?

Please don’t list it if it requires a knife (butterfingers), stove (I like hair spray), water (slip and fall hazard), freezer (frostbite), oven (gets hot, y’all), fork (pointy) or oil (splatter-y).

Answer me this: If I’m learning to cook this week and I want to jump off a bridge, are these two things related?

photo via blueq.com

Obviously, you people are saints

If you commented on this week’s Monday Dare, I just want you to know that I would trade two of my other friends for you.

If you didn’t leave a comment, you’re probably one of the friends being traded.
A big slap on the back and a thumbs up to the 149 commenters.
Because of the generous donation matching by Noa Gavin, Stefanie Wilder Taylor and my family…
 

149 comments= 450 dollars

(I rounded. It’s the only kind of math I can do. Don’t judge.)
Fucking awesome, y’all.
What does $450 in goodies look like?
P.S. I’ve been thinking a lot about Black Friday tonight. I’m not participating in the madness for the first time in many years because of The Project. My resolve was strong until I checked my backlog of voicemails from this week.
The sales guy from my favorite shoe store called to tell me that 90% of the store would be on sale tomorrow. I guess it’s not really Thanksgiving in my house until I yell, “Don’t you know I’m not shopping for a year, bitch!” at my phone.
I know what you’re thinking…how does she shoulder the burden of being so classy?
Are you venturing out this weekend? Give a girl the scoop…what did you buy?

Monday Dare: Erasers for everyone

Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Try, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made beforeThe Project started and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please, feel free to throw them my way. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”

This week: Give thanks.

Being poor builds character. No, scratch that. Being poor sucks.

Shortly after moving to California (I was 21 and Cal was 2), we went to a flea market and spent the whole day strolling around, just to get out of our apartment. Towards the end of our visit, Cal picked out a little trinket and I gladly obliged. It was a plastic container, separated into different compartments, with an eraser in each section.

It became her favorite toy. It was one of her only toys, since we moved with just a few plastic tubs filled with necessities and most of her bulky toys didn’t make the cut. I couldn’t afford to buy her more toys, but she was happy and content with the few things she had.

She spent hours opening and closing the compartments. She took it with her wherever she went and she proudly showed it to anyone that bothered to look and listen.

I think about this sometimes, and rather than making me feel sad, I am grateful.

I’m grateful that Cal is still content and happy. I’m grateful that in spite of my sometimes shitty parenting, she’s fantastic.

I’m grateful that I’ve experienced the full spectrum- I know what it’s like to be poor and I know what it’s like not to be poor. I can tell you that one end can be really unpleasant, but being on the other end doesn’t guarantee happiness. I’ve discovered that I make my own happiness.
______
Cal and I are volunteering next week at a charity that collects toys and supplies for children during the holiday season. For each individual that leaves a comment below by Thanksgiving with what they’re thankful for or what makes them happy, I’m donating $1 towards the purchase of toys to take on the day we volunteer. Sorry friends, no anonymous comments. Erasers for everyone!

The amazingly hilarious and generous Noa Gavin is matching donations up to $100. Check her out y’all. She’s a saint.

My wonderful family has generously offered to match all donations after the $100 mark.

Stefanie Wilder Taylor, the fabulously funny author of Sippy Cups are Not for Chardonnay, Naptime is the New Happy Hour and It’s Not Me, It’s You, is donating a dollar per comment as well! So, she’s beautiful and generous? How is that fair?
photo via billet.jp