I'm back and with a vengeance!

Okay, so I think I maybe mentioned at some point that I wasn't going to blog anymore. I just don't have time. (Clearly, since one of my last posts was about Jack running around with no pants on!) He is being equally neglected now--although fully clothed--and is happily coloring on scraps of paper that I toss in his direction and saying cute things to attempt to get a reaction out of me. Does this make me a bad mom? (If it doesn't, I'll give you a list of my shortcomings so it will not be a question in anyone's minds! Like it is now! Ha!) Well, I got not one but 2 emails today from friends who have joined the blogging community and, not to be outdone, I'm coming back. (I say this knowing full well I probably will just post this huge mamma of a blog and then slack off again!) However, since it's been awhile since I've posted anything, I have a lot to say!
Pretty Priceless Passing Point #1: I hate people. Okay, not ALL people. In fact, if you ask my husband, he'll refer to me as a "social butterfly." Let me specify. I hate people who are either too lazy or too consumed by paranoia a deeply embedded fear of dents and scratched paint to park correctly. For heck's sake, people! HOW MANY PARKING SPACES DOES YOUR HONDA ACCORD NEED?? We're not talking about a gigantic Hummer (which, really, is a post for another day. Don't let me forget.) we're talking about a sedan that does NOT NEED TWO FRIGGIN' PARKING SPACES FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY! (Whew! Now that I have THAT off my chest!) I just cannot tell you how frustrating it is to be driving around a crowded parking spot, bargaining with God in an attempt to get a good parking spot. ("Lord, I know I've said this before but I will stop making fun of people, I promise! I'll be focused and I'll stop swearing and I'll even give up Cherry Coke. I will! You think I can't do it? I can and I will.")Just please lead me to a great parking spot. And then I see it. There it is--the parking spot of my dreams! When I get there, cutting off various oldsters and trying not to hit toddlers who have escaped the clutch of death from their mothers, I go in to park and...some friggin' moron who suffers from one of the two previously mentioned ailments has taken up a parking spot and a half. So I swear under my breath and have a sudden need for Cherry Coke. (Look--if the Big Guy isn't going to hold up HIS end of the bargain, how can I be expected to???) If only I drove one of those big, huge, ugly as sin kind of trucks I would just wiggle my way in, laughing maniacally. The scrapes of paint on my doors would be badges of honor and I'd show them off to my redneck friends like hunting trophies. ("See that little baby? That WAS a Honda Accord. Clearly the driver was so busy texting her friends about an Abercrombie and Fitch sale, she couldn't manage to park in just one parking spot. I left a note with someone else's insurance information on her windshield.") That is part 2 of my evil plan. Since I'd be hitting so many cars, I'd "swap" insurance information with LOADS of people! "Yeah sure I'm Madge Rivera and I have Allstate insurance! My agent is..wait a minute..John-someone-or-other..Robinson. Yeah! That's right! Give him a call. He'll get that huge dent fixed in no time!" So this way I get double-revenge. Next time I wedge my way in, I'll give the moron I hit Ms. Abercrombie's insurance info. I have a dark gift.
Peggy's Pretty Passing Point #2: So you may have noticed I changed my blog layout. I thought I'd switch things up a bit. Now, it's entirely possible that I stole this layout from my dearest friend Mare-babes. (You might know her as the Nol-Bird. You might not know her at all...)At any rate, I think I may have stolen her layout. If I did, I apologize for my lack of creativity but since she stole her blog name from me, I would say we're pretty even steven. son. (ha!) Anyhoo...so whilst (I love that word) searching for an acceptable template, I notice one that has a bunch of unicorns on it. It was the "I (heart) unicorns" template, dontcha know. Yikes. Who, over the age of 8, hearts unicorns? Nevermind. I answered my own question. Hippies. Crazy crazy hippies. (no offense--hippies of the world and unicorns UNITE!) Maybe later I'll change my template to the unicorn template and see if I suddenly lose my desire to bathe and shave and am always craving special brownies...
Peggy's Pretty Passing Point #3: Let's talk Heritage Makers. So as (most of) you know, I joined the direct selling ranks and signed up as an "independent consultant" for Heritage Makers. Wahoo! The party thing. I was growing restless with my ho-hum housewife routine and needed A. to talk to grown ups and B. to fund my problematic shopping addiction. It was the PERFECT solution! So I've spent the last 6 months stalking friends and family and offering eternal friendship/empty promises of organ donation/my sweet dead-body hiding skills in exchange for a place to have parties. It's been fun. I REALLY love the product, I've actually made pretty good money (all of which I have immediately spent) and it has definately given me something to do with my time. This is the problem: I'm done. I'm not normally a "quitter" but I don't feel bad about giving this up (although I'm not ENTIRELY "giving it up") since it's not like I haven't been good at it, or successful with it. It's just not what I want in my life right now. It takes a lot more time than I really have to give and I'm REALLY tired of trying to find friends who will throw parties. Having said this, I'm really not just throwing in the towel and selling all my sample books to the highest bidder (maybe..any takers? Just kidding) I'm just going to take things as they come--do a party here and there. (this means you're still on the hook Jami!) I'll probably totally quit this summer, though. I was really waffling about this--mostly because I was bugged that I kept hearing about how women do this so they can "stay home with their kids." I'm not staying home--I'm going to parties. And when I AM home, I'm printing invites or assembling packets or making books of my own. Not playing with Jack or blogging (my two most important priorities). So that's a big load of hooey. (Yeah, you heard me! I said "hooey.") And to really be "successful" one needs to have at least one party a week. I just can't commit to that. No thank you. What really made the decision for me was reference to a talk by James E. Faust where he talked about women not trying to have it all at the same time. There's a season for everything. There's time to be a student. There's time for a career. There's time to be a mother...I loved this idea. Sure the extra money is nice (and I still need to come up with a way to fund my shopping habit) but it's not worth the sacrifices for it. Like my blog. Just kidding. You get my drift. Anyway, that's all I have to say about that. As my friend Joe would say, "Alrighty then." (Denny--don't tell Joe I quoted him in my blog. It will give him dilusions of grandeur of which NOBODY need suffer repercussions!)
Peggy's Pretty Priceless Passing Point #(what number am I on?)4. Maybe:Let's talk for a second about Splenda. Well, first let me tell you a funny story. Once upon a time, a really fantastic, outrageously popular (and stunningly gorgeous) girl named Peggy took her equally fantastic (I can't be bothered to type all that other stuff again so pretend it's here) son Jack to the doctor for his 3 year appointment. At said appointment, she was told my le medicin that Monsieur has a high BMI. My kid is officially a chunk--as if he wasn't when he was 3 months old and 17 pounds! Anyhooo...I ride bikes. So his BMI is high and we need to make some changes. This did not offend me. He's a chub, I know and love this but I love him enough to want him to be healthy and it's a really good reason for all of us to eat better. So after pledging to cut off the CIB drip he requests before and after bedtime, to ban MacDo and outlaw Cherry Coke (I have to drink it in secret!) we leave the doctor (after making an appt 3 months from now for her to recheck it) and go buy a grocery cart full of healthy snacks. Among these snacks, were fruit cups, sweetened with Splenda. Fast forward to Saturday night, we get a delightful visit from my dear friend who I will refer to as "Stinky Butt Girl" (HOLLA!) and her parents. We're discussing my little hunka hunka Carnation Instant Breakfast and I mention some dietary changes, including the aforementioned fruit cups. She seriously went off on me like I told her I'm giving him tequila shots every night before bedtime. "SPLENDA! THAT STUFF IS HORRIBLE!" She goes on and on about how it's a chemical and his body can't digest it and compares it to eating plastic...FREAKED me out. So what do I do? I call my friend Tia (who I am not kidding you--knows EVERYTHING! She's my go-to-girl for all questions nutritious since she's a "I'd rather die a thousand painful deaths than eat anything processed" kind of friend. She eased my troubled mind, assuring me that I am not killing Jack softly with his Splenda (get it? It's a Roberta Flack joke) and I feel much better about the whole situation. But Lisa, don't tell your mom I'm feeding Jack chemical plastic. My poor heart can't take another lecture on that topic!
Peggy's Pretty Priceless (and Final) Passing Point #5: Okay, seriously, I have got to get off the computer and get dinner ready! Reading. I have been reading like crazy these days! I seriously cannot get enough. I've gone through this reading drought because my theory was, if I was going to read, I needed to be reading my scriptures. (I didn't do that enough either!) But I have magically found a way to do both and am happy as a lark, always reading something. I just finished "The Girl With The Pearl Earring" and LOVED it! Whew! Anyway, this is what I've discovered about myself: I'm pretty shallow and not terribly intelligent. (if this is not a revelation to you, as I fear may largely be the case, please don't tell me. Just quietly laugh to yourself mockingly as you probably usually do when I declare the obvious) I have read and enjoyed a variety of books, but what really brought my lameness home is the fact that I read (and enjoyed) a ROMANCE novel of all things, called "Tutu Deadly." (I am not joking--don't you DARE judge me!) Of course, I enjoy (some of) the classics, but nothing holds my attention like mushy chick lit. What have I become? I refuse, however, to read anything by Jody Piccout or Anita Stansfield. Even I have standards.
Okay, that is all for now. Hopefully I'll post again before Jesus comes but just in case I don't, have a "Spendiforic" day!