Love Is In The Air...

... and I'm about to run out of Lysol trying to ward the darned stuff off! That love crap's impossible to get rid of once it takes hold of you. It'll have you all starry-eyed, smiling like a fool, and talking nonsense. Why I heard tell of one woman who was so lovesick that she couldn't eat, couldn't sleep and couldn't bare to even hang up the phone! She'd coo into the receiver, "No... you hang up first. No... you." It's a horrible, debilitating strain of virus and I'm doing everything within my power not to catch it... again.

You see, when the postman delivered February's Design Team Kit from My Creative Scrapbook, I'm convinced that Pam had an evil plan to infect me with the virus. I'm always really eager to see the kits when they arrive and normally rip right into the packaging. When I opened February's box, I felt something shoot me right in the eye! And I'm pretty sure it was that punk, Cupid! I fixed his cherub butt though... I took away his poisonous darts and made him walk a dog for all eternity. Now put that in your bow and shoot it! Punk!


The photos are of me and Miss Annabelle at her kissing booth. Annabelle was selling kisses (she called them yummies) for charity. You can read all about our time together and about her wonderful organization (Southeast Pug Rescue & Adoption) on one of my earlier blog entries... located here.

Cupid failed in his mission to take me down, but that Pam's a crafty one. She devised a back up plan. She stuffed that kit so full of pink, mushy sentiments and love soaked hearts that I broke out into a cold sweat and could feel my body growing weak. But I had to push through...


By the time I'd completed the layout of my adorable nephew, my skin had lost all color and I was laying on the sofa with a cold washcloth across my forehead. But I still had another project to complete. Must... find... strength...


These photos are from a day trip up to Fernandina Beach's Trailer Park Collectibles. It was an adventure that had a blog post all its own, which you can read about here. And if you're truly curious about the 10 Things I love about Thrift Stores you can click on the image for a larger view.

Once I'd completed my layouts, I finally had to admit defeat. I was in love. The kit was adorable. As much as I tried to hate on all the pink and the hearts and the mushy gushy love stuff, I couldn't. I had become starry-eyed. I was talking complete nonsense (more than normal). And when I called Five Star Pizza, I couldn't hang up! No... you hang up first. No... you. I needed a cure... fast!

I had to think! What could stop the love virus from spreading? What could kill love?



Cured. And forever, I'd imagine.

The Tortilla Chip Theory

My friend, Lesley, had a rough week and was in dire need of some girl time. She was feeling pretty low about a certain fella so I, full of sage advice, took her to Chili's for happy hour and my Tortilla Chip Theory.

Basically, my theory is that men are like tortilla chips. Sure, that one tortilla is nice. In fact, you may quite fancy it. It's very tempting with its firm, nice shape. And it's very pleasing to the eyes. That one tortilla smells incredible, tastes amazing and before long, you and the tortilla are spicing things up with condiments.

You think that tortilla could be the one. You spend all of your time with it. You express your love and devotion. But time passes and, eventually, you'll notice the tortilla beginning to get a little stale and moldy. Then one day you'll find it camped out in your couch cushions, surrounded by crumbs. Your tortilla will no longer be the tasty snack you once desired and craved. You'll finally see it for what it is... a greasy chip laying on your sofa! And the only thing you'll feel then? Fat!

My point is, there are so many other delicious chips in the basket yet to be tasted. Don't waste your time or tears on one chip (besides, it'll get soggy), choose another chip! The world is a Chili's basket full of tortilla chips!

My other advice to Lesley? 2-for-1 Margaritas, baby!


Yeah, she was a quick study.

Keeping In Touch...

So I was flipping through my mail the other day, when I came upon a brightly colored envelope from a Susan Miller in Des Moines, Iowa. I searched my mind to try and figure out who the heck Susan Miller was and why she'd be sending me a card. My extended family is very small, so I knew there was no long lost cousin out in Iowa somewhere that had named me as sole heir to their dilapidated shack and overgrown vegetable garden. And once I'd established that if I were, in fact, the target of an anthrax terrorist attack, chances were pretty good that there wouldn't be a return address on the envelope; I opened it.

Once I did, however, a little piece of my heart shriveled up and died. I fell to my knees, clutched the card to my chest and let out a painful, gut wrenching wail.

It was just so sad.

I mean... look!


Why do I not remember Susan?! And had my very presence in her life made it better for living? Was I the sunshine to her flower? Without my light force, was she cast into darkness? Left to wither on the vine? Am I so careless in my relationships that I don't even remember our paths crossing? Clearly, I'm a horrible, selfish person! I'm not worthy of her friendship if I can move on with my life, with nary a thought to the past; never to wonder what's become of her. Never to wonder if she's looking up at the same sky, wishing on the same star...

Susan Miller
Proactiv Customer Service

What the hell?!

Turns out this Susan chick misses me (and my money) something fierce. Susan wishes I'd break out in festering, oozing boils to the point that I'd have no choice but to renew my monthly subscription for Proactiv's Clear Skin System. How thoughtful. How sweet. She misses me.

Now I'm not knockin' Proactiv. Proactiv is a wonderful product. And it's a product that actually works! There was a time, just this past year as a matter of fact, that I needed it. My complexion was out of control! It got so bad at one point, I was starting to look like Sloth from the friggin' Goonies! Ruth! Ruth! Baby! Ruth! But Proactiv worked. For once, a product actually performed as promised.

Okay, so yes, maybe I should have sent the folks at Proactiv a "Thank You" card. A simple gesture stating how much I appreciated their product and the timely manner in which they withdrew the funds from my account every month. They were always so good at that. So in an effort to make amends, and in the hopes that I never have to see those little weeping fox/puppy/bear eyes again, I sent Susan a "Thinking Of You" card.

In the card, I enclosed photos of my children, Ruby and Lance (the two pimples that pop up on my chin every 28 days) along with a few funny anecdotes about them - like how they love to ruin my photos and and how they like to glow bright red in order to draw attention to themselves. I figure that'll keep Susan happy until the holidays. At which time she'll receive a Christmas card and a portrait of me and the children in front of the tree. Me in a Santa hat, the kids glowing bright red...