Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Blondie Moments...

Dear World,
We are now up to proof # 32,298 that I really am blonde. 

I couldn't get my front load washer to work yesterday. It would turn on, but none of the buttons on the front panel would work. I was frustrated. 

Turned it off. 
Turned it back on. 
Turned it off. Turned it on. Off. On. Off. On.
Poked all the buttons. 

Walked away mad before I punched it in it's little blank face(plate).

Went back. 
Unplugged it. Waited. Plugged it back in.

Still no buttons would work. I finally bent down to look at the front and noticed a new picture symbol was lit up of a smiling face.
Wanted to curse and scream, not smile. 
Wondered what the smiling face was for. 
Started thinking it the "call a service repairman" light.
Wondered why it was smiling. 
I wouldn't be smiling if I had to call a tech. 

Waited for Don to get up to look at the washer. 

He gets up and looks at it. He is not blonde and knows that the little smiling face is not to call a service tech. It's the little smiling face that comes on when you put on the child lock. It's to remind you to smile as you keep your adorable little monsters from PUSHING THE BUTTONS and reminds you to not scream "I'M GOING TO TAPE YOU TO THE WALL IF YOU TOUCH THAT ONE MORE TIME". 

It's the "smile because I'm smarter than my kids" button. 
Ironic, no?

Going to go dye my hair brunette, 

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Idiosyncrasy or Idiocy? You tell me.

Dear Lark, 

You are so weird. I know this is not really a news flash. But do you know what I noticed you doing last night? 

Picture this with me.

Hanging on the couch, surfing the web on your iPhone. Ring a bell? Ok, then you wanted to cut and paste a web address to email to yourself so you could look at it later. Remember this? Well, then I saw you do something so silly. 

You touched the screen to copy the address... and then held that pointer finger in the air and used your other finger to navigate to the new screen, THEN put your pointer finger back on the screen to paste the info. 

Do you understand what you just did? You acted like you stored the info in YOUR FINGER. 

Laughing at you, laughing at me, 

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Top 10... errr, I mean Top 5 List

Lark's Top Reasons for considering a life as a hermit.

5. You don't have to clean the bathrooms for company.

4. No one talks behind your back if you wear your jammies all day.

3. Everyone secretly wishes they could be you, at least for an afternoon.

2. Hairshirts may soon be all the rage. It could happen! "Fashion" from the 80's have reappeared. Anything is possible. Shudder gag barf

And the number one reason to be a hermit is.....

Drum Roll please.........

1. No peer pressure!

Considering trading it all for a quiet shack or RV, 

Monday, June 27, 2011

Gyped. And didn't know it.

Dear Homeschool Experience, 

I want to first say that I have been more than pleased with my homeschooling as a child. I loved the freedom and flexibility that it offered. I didn't ever feel like I was missing out on anything too important. 

Until today.

I was happily blog surfing and stumbled upon a blog post about a treat this lady learned to make in 7th grade home. Now, I have always laughed at the things people made in home ec. After all I had baked bread,made cookies and brownies for years. I knew how to make a full home cooked country meal. I laughed in the face of English Muffin Pizzas and doughy pancakes. 

So, today, I snickered at this treat. Cinnamon Snails. Ha! Flattened white bread (white bread!! How plebeian!), smear of cream cheese, rolled in butter and cinnamon sugar. Easy peasy. I could do that with my 6 year old. (Not a 7th grader. Ha!) So, my baby girl and I started making this treat, chatting and enjoying our time together. I popped them in the oven, set the timer and read a chapter in my book. Never realizing how much I had missed by not attending public school. I pulled out the snack, let her try the first one and sent her out with a bowlful to share with her brothers. I sat down to munch on the couple I had left aside for my snack. 

Well, shut my mouth. Crispy, buttery, sweet bites of deliciousness! I have missed out. I feel cheated that I am almost 36 years old and have never tasted a Cinnamon Snail before. I have a lot of time to make up for. Honey, bring home a loaf of bread. Mamma needs a snack! 

Licking my fingers and knocking the kids down to steal their Snails, 

PS I can't find the original blog post. But I looked up the recipe for you. You'll thank me later. http://www.cdkitchen.com/recipes/recs/146/Cinnamon_Snails58711.shtml

Friday, April 29, 2011

Lark's Dating Service

Dear Mother Nature,

I think that your phone must be disconnected, your email box full of spam, and your Facebook account has been deleted. Otherwise how could you NOT NOTICE that we are not pleased with your continuing relationship with Old Man Winter. 

Lady, it is past time for you to end this fling. MOVE ON. In fact, I think it is time for a dance card full of dances with someone with a little spring in his step. 


Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Oryctolagus cuniculus is no friend of mine

Dear Baby Rabbit,

You may have not heard about my bad attitude today. You probably didn't know that I was upset and sad and mad and in need of some glimmer of happiness. I imagine (since you are not my friend on Facebook) that you were not aware that I was going out to the farm with the express purpose of seeing YOU and getting a large dose of cute and cuddly and warm fuzzy feelings. 

But your reaction to me was inexcusable. INEXCUSABLE, I say. 

Seriously, I was gently cradling you in my hands, cooing and smiling and softly petting your adorable little ears. The warmth of your soft fur was slowing softening the hurt in my heart. I was smiling. I was finally relaxing. I was having a wonderful moment of cuteness therapy.

And then you had to go and ruin it. 

Thank you so much for peeing all down the front of my shirt. I had no idea that baby bunny bladders were so large. 

(Even that alliteration doesn't take the sting of the situation away. And I love me some alliteration.)

Thinking that karma has something against me,

Wednesday, April 6, 2011


Dear World,

You may not know this, but my daddy is an inventor. He can grab some things out of his stash of treasures and turn it into a something useful. Recently he made extensions for his truck mirrors out of the bottom of crutches. Sometimes I wish I could see the possibilities in a pile of junk. I have accumulated quite the impressive pile in my attempts to be more like him. But it still just looks like junk to me. 

While I may not be an inventor, I can tell you about a two things that would be bad inventions. 

1. The Barf-O-Matic Alarm

The sounds of retching quickly awaken and rapidly deploy all mommies

~Messy to use. 
~Cause much extra housework which causes more exhaustion.
~After the initial surge of adrenaline, sleep quickly returns. 
~Occasionally the snooze button feature works, but is irregular (and unwelcome) in nature. 
~Does not seem to work on daddies. 

All attempts of utilizing this device with the daddy backfired with duplicate "alarms" from the daddy. Any and all experiments have been terminated. 

2. The Awaker Dog; a dog alarm clock

Effective in its persistent volume

~No snooze button.
~No off button. 
~No way to set the time that it would start "alarming". 
~No way to set it to not "alarm" on Saturday. 

I have confirmed these conclusions thru lengthy research. My neighbors kindly supplied the Awaker Dog for the test trials. I am currently working on another invention, "The Awaker Dog Silencer .22" with encouraging results.

Wishing I was still sleeping,

Monday, March 28, 2011


Dear Children, 

When I was little my daddy assured me that when I grew up I would turn into a boy. That all little girls grew up to be boys and all little boys turned into girls. Now, with a nostalgic twinkle and gentle smile, he tells of my response. 

 I wailed.

 "When I grow up I want to be a mamma!"

I have always wanted to be a mamma. To have a house full of kids, running and laughing and playing is my idea of bliss. The joy and open mouthed wonder a two year old has at the first sight of a ladybug makes me feel a resurgence of life in my own heart. Watching the lightbulb flicker and then burst into brilliance above a child's head when they figure out that they are READING! Really, truly, absolutely READING for the first time makes my heart swell and out bubbles blissful laughter. Hearing two siblings, who have been mortal enemies for years, now quietly visiting and gently playing have me quietly wiping thankful tears.

This is what I have always longed for.

The long nights of post surgery births, the painful pull of stitches, the bumps of excited brothers looking at the new baby brought joy to my spirit. Here was a new life; full of wonder and love and delight to share.

Endless dirty bottles, always smelling of spit up, blown out diapers; put in the proper place of context were just a momentary hardship. 

Temper tantrums, lies, spilled milk; were the training ground for the future battles I would face.

Personalities, temperaments, learning styles; all unique, never duplicated in other siblings made me learn to adapt and be flexible, stretching me in ways I never expected.

Research, racking my brain and stretching my resources, searching for the answer to what was wrong in hearts and minds has been duly rewarded with progress and change. That filled me with hope. Lessons learned through the hardest of times carry me on still today.

You children have shaped me. Changed me. Filled me up and wrung me out. You make me laugh. Weep. Scream. You challenge my mind. You stretch my heart. 

And I wouldn't change it all for anything.

Love forever, 

Thursday, March 17, 2011

The Family Court

Dear Plaintiffs:

It has recently come to my attention that I have been accused of crimes against you, my two younger sisters. Your complaints have been include in this official* court document.
*official, as  this is officially my blog and I can pretty much say whatever I want...

I have been accused of laughing in delight when people think that I am the younger of the sisters. My response may have been immature but was not meant to be malicious in any way. I don't care what you told mom, "neener neener" is not technically a mean word.

It is my opinion that the statute of limitations has passed for the following list of your accusations;
ripping off ears of special stuffed rabbits, slamming doors in faces (or quickly sliding it shut, depending on what era you are referring to), ignoring requests to play, tattling, not showing you my super cool stuff, general teasing, and being too cool to even look at you. 

If it pleases the court, I ask that all charges of face making, tongue protruding, and forty crow giving be stricken from the record.

 In addition I would ask that my record be forever expunged of the charges of my using clever and witty words to "torment" said siblings. I ask the prosecuting parties to supply actual proof that I meant harm when I allegedly hid the plaintiff's eyeglasses in the cupboard with the drinking glasses and, to quote the plaintiff's petition in Wren v. Lark, "teased her, saying that she could find them where glasses are supposed to be". 

I also ask for consideration in the case of Robyn v. Lark, where I allegedly called her dog a canine and her cow a bovine, in a "singsongy" voice, implying that it was a bad thing. I call into question her interpretation of those events. I will argue that I was merely attempting to teach her the proper nomenclature of said pets. 

But for my final argument I would like to remind the court of Blood v. Water. That case has set the precedent for all future cases. Blood won that short court battle and forever stilled the argument that siblings may be convicted for alleged "crimes" against siblings and other family members. I believe that this case firmly follows in the precedent set forth by Blood v. Water as all alleged pranks, mischievousness, and teasing fall under the "no harm no foul clause".

 Or in the case of Robyn and Wren v. Lark, the 
"no harm no fowl clause". 

With mostly sincere sincerity and truly profoundly profound apologies,
The Defendant (aka Lark)

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Insert Eye Roll Here

Dear Mom,

Now that I am a mom of my own, I can understand why you told us certain things.

Watch for cars as you ride your bike down the street. 
Wash your hands before dinner.
 Of course.
Wait until your father gets home. 
Been there, said that.

You taught us so many things; 
a love of reading, learning, (for some of us) a love of the great outdoors, to love Jesus, to be witty, to rope, to laugh, to love family.

But there are a few things I still don't understand.

1. Nothing bad happens if I lift the lid while the rice is cooking. For years I was sure it would mean the imminent demise of the world as we know it. 

2. Saying the word "fart" is acceptable in polite (ish) society. I obey when told to respect my elders and I don't want to be eaten by bears (remember when you told us that story?!). 
Because I fear for my very life, I will not publish your replacement word for that bodily function. I still remember the day I realized that 
 not one other family, used your word. Probably the first time I realized I was 
(No worries, Mom, it certainly wasn't the last time and you were not the sole reason for that state of my being. Dad helped, too.)

3. Calling someone a jerk was not allowed, but calling them a "muscle spasm" was?

4. Seriously cookies DO need the amount of sugar called for in the recipe. Yes, they do.
Whole wheat does not belong in cake.
 As much as you want to fool yourself, there was no fooling us. 
We were just desperate. So we ate them.

5. The verdict is still out on whether or not I will go to hell for dancing and playing cards. Guess we'll see whose right on that one later. 
See ya in heaven - wanna play Texas Hold 'Em there?

6. So far no one has died of typhoid from my messy bedroom. Twenty years later and it pretty much looks the same. Sorry about that.

I always thought that when I grew up I would finally understand all that you taught us. I'm all grown up. When does the Great Enlightenment finally come?

Until then I'll be perfecting my eye roll,

P.S. I used my creative license in taking or ignoring your corrections on the first draft. Whatcha gonna do about it? Spank me?

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Oh look! It's sparkly!

Dear Disco Balls, 

Your very sparkliness makes life much more fun. The delight you cast with each flicker, the joy you spread with each flash makes me envy you.

If fact, I am seriously contemplating installing one of you in every light fixture in my house. Everyone needs a little more sparkle in their eyes, right?

So, I decided to do a thorough research into this idea. (Read: I wasted an hour on the internet.) After looking at all my options - from professional lighting to DIY - I got bored and started watching YouTube videos. 

You had your day in the sun, so to speak.

On to other things, 

Monday, March 14, 2011

Pinch This!

Dear Pennies, 

I sincerely apologize for the unceasing pinching I have put you through lately. I hope you understand. It's not that I don't want to rub two of you together. It's just that you look so wrung out after all the squeezing I do. 

I would really like to try that deal where you save one to earn one. Is that kinda like a buy one get one free deal? Or is it some sort of pyramid scheme? It does sound a little too good to be true.

Why is it that they say they'll pay one of you for someone's thoughts, but if I wanted to tell them what I was thinking then I have to give them two cents? Seems slightly suspicious to me. If they want my thoughts so badly, you would think they would be willing to cough up that extra penny. And frankly, I think my opinions are worth a lot more than that. But I often give them away for free.

I ought to rethink this situation. 

But mostly, Mr. Penny, I wanted to thank you. I know you often hear how useless you are. How we should just do away with you altogether. And that must be really discouraging. 

I thought you ought to hear how I appreciate you. You allow my little boy to feel generous. You see, I never give him silver coins. But you, I'll give. That allows him to share his money and feel like Daddy Warbucks. That makes you special, Penny. I wonder, do you ever notice how a kid's face will light up when he picks you up off of the ground? You must feel so neglected, lying there. But you give joy and generosity. 

And it only costs a penny. 

That's my two cents worth, 

Friday, March 11, 2011

Ode to Toilet Paper

Dear Toilet Tissue, 

I was noticing on your packaging that you tout that you are "hypoallergenic" and "dermatologist approved".

Does that mean some toilet paper is allergenic and dermatologist deplored?
Do I really need to start reading labels on my TP? 

Warning: This paper made out of peanuts, pet dander, and/or rag weed.

Warning: This paper made at a facility that may also process stinging nettles, poison ivy, and itching powder.

Thanks for stating the obvious, 

Thursday, March 10, 2011


Dear Blog, 

Is it just happenstance or is it deliberate maliciousness on your part? Don't you find it a little ironic that the words that you have highlighted by a larger font in my 
Labels column  Look over there -------------------------}                                                             
are "food" and "sarcasm"? 

What are you trying to tell the world?

Thinking you may know me too well, 

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Book Gestapo

Dear Banned Book List, 

You have on your list some of our very favorite books. The kids and I have shared chapters from Huckleberry Finn, James and the Giant Peach, My Friend Flicka, and even Little Red Riding Hood.
 I was surprised to find some of my favorite books, ones I consider classics and "must reads" like To Kill a Mockingbird. And others that we have read in lit class for our schooling. Lord of the Flies, Silas Marner, and imagine my surprise to find even the Dictionary listed!

I was wondering, could we switch some of these out for a new candidate? You see, my middle son has found a new love of reading Calvin and Hobbes books. At first I didn't see any problem. At least he's wants to read, right? Begging me for a few more minutes each night seemed like a good thing. 

But, Book List, these books are dangerous.... 

They are causing a metamorphous in my little boy. It started with little phrases. I asked him to do a chore and he told me he wasn't feeling enthusiastic about that chore and he shouldn't have to do anything he didn't feel enthusiastic about. 

Classic Calvin smart mouth symptoms. 

Now my boy prays for snow so that he can make morbid snowman art in the front yard. 

By Bill Watterson

But I fear the change is almost complete. You see, now they are starting to not only sound alike and act alike but even LOOK alike.
Not Calvin

Please, for the sake of my  children. Ban Calvin now. Before it's too late.

A concerned mother, 

Tuesday, March 8, 2011


Dear Writers Block, 

Bite me. You could only keep me down for so long. But I am back. And I have a list of things to tell the world this week. And you can't stop me. So there.

Taking MY world back, 

Tuesday, March 1, 2011


Dear Universe,

You must think that you are a riot. Ha. Ha. I am so not laughing at this twist of fate.

Due to increasing gas prices, we purchased a van to replace the Suburban-beast. And the van we could afford? A GMC Safari.

Ok, I think, ok, so it's a little boxy. Not fun or sexy.
Boring brown.
Like driving a brick with wheels.

But I can get past all of that. For the sake of my wallet.

But I blithely ignored all the warning signs. The boxiness. The glaring lack of visual appeal.

I ignore the fact that it has a CD left in the player - it's the best loved songs of Bill and Gloria Gaither. 

I ignore that it came with a handicap sticker.

But I cannot ignore the fact that I am a woman of average height and I have to stoop to see out of the windshield. Let me expound. 

When I am one of the first 2 cars at a stoplight, I have to BEND DOWN to see if the light is changing. It appears that the optimal viewing height through this van's windshield is 1.5 inches above the steering wheel. 

I am now the proud owner of a old lady car. 

Ha. Ha.

Turning in my Young Mom card for an Old Lady membership, 

Monday, February 28, 2011


Dear Nostalgia,
I am always surprised at where you pop up. Last night was a complete side swipe of my emotions. And you are to thank for it. There I was, hanging out at Arctic Circle with my little kids, watching them play on the indoor playground. I was minding my own business. I was not festering about my oldest child's upcoming 14th birthday. I was not internally lamenting the passage of years. I was simply hanging with the littles, killing time.

And you snuck up on me. Like a cougar lying in wait for its prey. And me? I was the juicy ribeye.

You, Nostalgia, snuck in behind a cute little family with an adorable little 3 year old boy. He wasn't the spitting image of my boy-man, but.... He was wearing a little bomber jacket just like the one I had for my son at that age. And when this adorable little child turned around to tell his daddy, "Watch me! Daddy, watch me!" as he climbed up the playground like a "big" boy, I about lost it. Instantly you completely possessed me, and I flashed back to when my little boy-man was that size and would say, "Watch me, Mamma, watch me!" with excitement in his little lispy voice.

Nostalgia, I blame you for my near breakdown at Arctic Circle. It took all of my self control to not go over to those complete strangers and shout for them to treasure that moment. That moment that had just happened. Because in a flash that boy would be a boy-man and would no longer talk in a sweet little voice, but in a crackling-finding his way to being a man kind of voice. And they would miss it, that moment, and it would be gone in the passage of time and pursuit of the next milestone. And they would wish it back.

So thanks, Nostalgia, for making me fight the urge to be a crazy woman at the local burger joint. Next time could you just schedule an appointment?

Wishing for another sweet little boy moment,

Friday, February 25, 2011

Hubby O'Mine

Dear Husband,
I realize that your new iPhone is the cat's pajamas, the best thing since sliced bread. I understand that is all that and a bag of chip's too. You have loaded a bunch of apps. You have game apps, a Zippo lighter app and Finger Drums. Choosing to have the Atomic Fart app wasn't really my choice, but whatevs. 

However, I have just one thing to say to you.... Unless you can find a Wife App to replace me - you better put that thing down and pay me some attention. 

Your loving REAL LIFE WIFE, 

Wednesday, February 23, 2011


Dear Veggie Co-op Basket,
It's like Christmas every Saturday when I pick you up and eagerly dig through your contents. This week I was perplexed by one of your offerings. After some research I discovered the brown root was actually a Jerusalem Artichoke. I continued my research for cooking lessons for this oddity and this is what I stumbled across. Apparently in Gerard's Herbal, printed in 1621, the English planter John Goodyer said this about Jerusalem artichokes:
"which way soever they be dressed and eaten, they stir and cause a filthy loathsome stinking wind within the body, thereby causing the belly to be pained and tormented, and are a meat more fit for swine than men."

I have no other words for you, Basket. What kind of evil plot is this, to stir up and filthy loathsome stinking wind within our bodies? You shall not control this family, Basket. We are on to you. 

Jerusalem artichoke and stinking wind free, 

Monday, February 21, 2011

Pretty Mean Syndrome

Dear PMS, 

Thanks for giving me an excuse to act unreasonable and crazy every once in a while. The rest of the world is probably glad you don't show up too often, but I am glad it's you and that I am not actually loosing my mind. 

Irrational and armed, 

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Snow Glitter

Dear Snowy Friday Afternoon, 

You. Were. Amazing! 
I absolutely loved your sunny skies and softly floating snowflakes. But the best part? That it was warm and the snow didn't stick and there is nothing for me to shovel or slip in this morning. I am so thankful there is no white frozen tundra covering my crocus that is desperately trying to peep thru the frozen ground. I adored how it looked like God smiled and sprinkled glitter on my afternoon. 

Still smiling, 

P.S. Ok, I can't lie any longer. Especially if I am going to be talking about God and His glitter sprinkling on my day.... I wouldn't actually be the one shoveling the snow if it had stayed around. And I probably wouldn't really even go outside at all to actually slip around any. Soooo, I guess I meant to say all that in a sort hypothetical situation type of way. But I did mean that part about the crocus and the glitter. Totally the truth. So, I am not always a big, fat liar. I just sometimes exaggerate. Only sometimes. Ok, that's another lie. I like to exaggerate. But only if it's funny. Or I get some sympathy out of it. Oh boy, I better stop now. ~ Lark

Friday, February 18, 2011

Dreaming some dreams

Dear Dreams,
 I have gotten used to the unrealistic oddities you throw. 

Flying? Done that. 

Chased by a faceless terror? Blase.

 A dream in black and white featuring a teenage Carrottop as the only thing in color? Yip, had that one. Shudder.

But really, dreams, you have outdone yourself this time. Really? You made me Kim Kardashian's mom?! Really? I really appreciated how you tried to make it all "logical" and everything by having my dream self tell the sales clerk at the high end boutique she and I were shopping at (another proof that it was a dream BTW, just in case you weren't convinced) that she got her looks from her dad. But really. Let's just take a lookie look and see... 

Kim Kardashian

Uncanny isn't it. 

Let's try again tonight, 

Thursday, February 17, 2011


Dear Thursday, 

Thank you for being so close to the weekend. But I have to admit, I secretly hate you for not being Friday. Could you please rev up your excitement level or something? Throw in a pony or circus or something?  

Wishing you were Saturday

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Refrigerator Racism

Dear Refrigerator, 
What's up with the segregation going on inside your doors? Haven't you heard that it's the 21st century? Who died and made you the boss of things?! Maybe my fruits and veggies don't want to be separated any longer. Maybe they want to hang out together. Who are you to force them to be apart? And what about those weird vegetables that are really fruit, like tomatoes and avocados? Where do they fit in, in your segregated little world? It is long past time for you to do your part in not condoning or encouraging xenophobia. 

Can't we all just get along, 

Monday, February 14, 2011

Valentines Day

Dear Valentines Day, 
I had such high hopes for you and me this year. But I am sorry to inform you that Mr. Influe Enza has taken all the joy and plans I had for us. Do you suppose we could 
re schedule for Thursday perhaps? I should be feeling better then and all your holiday accessories will be marked down substantially. 

Not feeling the love, 

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Piles of Laundry

Dear Piles of Laundry,
How do you like being clean for once? Will you be scared when you are put into drawers and not piled up with all your friends in a basket? No worries, laundry. You will be together again soon enough.
High on the scent of Downy,

Saturday, February 12, 2011

TV Commercials

Dear TV Commercials, 
You assure me that happiness can be found in the bottom of a Happy Meal box, at Golden Corral, and in a heartburn free day. I think that if I were to participate in finding happiness at McDonalds and Golden Corral I would not be having a heartburn free day. So what is it? 
Feeling conflicted, 

Friday, February 11, 2011

Dear Freezer Section at WinCo

Dear Freezer Section at WinCo,
Thank you for making dinner for us. I rarely visit you so it is nice that you are available for me at a moments notice. Sorry to be such a bad friend. 
Here's to seeing more of you,