****Special Edition Posting: My Best Friend's Obsession With Expired Dairy Products

Why does someone who claims to love me routinely try to poison me with expired dairy products? For someone so knowledgeable...Carolyn once tried to convince me that unopened whipping cream that expired in August could be used because it did not smell and had only been opened recently. When did this take place? Thanksgiving a couple of years ago. Me and Kev know differently though. We learned the hard way that "no smell" can indicate spoilage past the point of the tell-tale smelly soured sign. And I can still taste that nastiness on my tongue. Kevin really had a hard time believing whipped cream could be the stuff of merriment for children of all ages for a very long time. I got over my fear of whipping cream all too quickly.

Then there was the time that her daughter, Alli, who was 8 when this next episode happened, sat down with me to enjoy together our bowls of cereal one morning when Carolyn was in the hospital. She had her sugar coated crunchy, puffy fluff and I had the expensive granola from some family owned grain mill snuggled up in the hinterlands of some Utah mountain. Alli and I simultaneously took that first bite together. Right as the granola rolled around enough to let me get my gagging reflex to completely take over, Alli beat me to the verbal observation and said "This milk taste funny". I said, "Ya think?" as I hauled to the sink to scrape the grit and chunky milk out of my mouth. I then had to explained her mother was trying to kill me.

I have made it a practice to check the dairy any time I get ready to cook in the Edmond kitchen and if Carolyn is around, the fur flies. But I win and pitch anything questionable. Just ask her sister, Cathy.

However, I think Carolyn has moved on from dairy and on to any food items normally and wisely found store at proper temperatures in the refrigerator. She asked Kenny just last December "Do you think it's any good?" as she held up an unopened package of bacon that she discovered under something in the pantry. She was not real sure how many days it had been there...When Kenny was able to speak again, he told her 'NO!"...and then she attempted to reason with him because bacon is cured...and surely that counted for something....

Since we did not end up with food poisoning....you can conclude that Kenny overpowered Carolyn and pried the unopened pork out of her hands and properly disposed of the pig.

HMMMMM......maybe she is trying to tell me something????When it comes to Carolyn, I often describe myself as a "stray cat she fed at the back door once".....Oh dear, the insecurity is setting in already.

What In The Sam Hill Is A “Flying Monkey Mother?"

Here is the skinny version~

It's All Relevant

Starting with this particular snippet will explain much. Perhaps. Maybe this post will just increase my ability to baffle. Some have responded to my choice for a blog title with a big fat "Duh" while others have expressed perplexed "huh???"

A Flying Monkey Mother is an acronym slogan I tooled with the help of my own monkeys to define who I am last October and would have loved to produce different ways to wear my slogan prior to the presidential elections.

I actually sent a version of this in to a certain person I have been known to casually stalk in my spare time…except he had just disappeared from CNN and I’m quite sure that the transition to Fox is what kept him so busy that he never got to my email.

“F” is for….Former corporate sales scum for a well known brand of clothing whose name starts with the letter L & this Co. literally exists to "cya" (cover your assets!)“L” is for….Loyal to my God, my Country & my Family, Nuff Said! “Y” is for….Yellow sponges who sing, dance, cook, wear clothes & lack good judgment make me belly laugh out loud!“I” is for...Ingenious & dedicated shopper who is, at this present juncture, not shopping thanks to current events, dang it! “N” is for….Not currently on any corporate payroll, but working way harder at this gig than any other gig I have ever had before motherhood! “G” is for….Generation ME~EX'ER ala 1968 (one foot in a disco platform and one foot in a black & white checkered Van, explains why I appear slightly off-balance and displays my range of shoe style affections.) “M” is for…. My kids would really love me more if I would sign them up for very sport known to man kind & I refuse to cave! “O” is for…. Offended by philosophies of those who willingly choose to be unaccountable enigmas in our country! “N” is for….Never going to live down embarrassing mishaps that seem to happen to me! “K” is for…. Kicked many & most of my own bad habits but alas, perfection is not even on my radar! “E” is for….Eternally remodeling our home & am admitted project junkie; foolishly optimistic that a day will come when the funds are found! “Y” is for….Your average adult female with ADD who enjoys swapping that out for OCD during a crisis but also known as a yard junkie when the weather warms.

That's all of the skinny version.

Want the detailed not-so-skinny version? Ok…you asked for it…..

After hearing my blog title, dear friend Anna-Lisa disclosed to me her fear of freaky monkeys...namely the ones from "The Wizard of Oz". Bingo Anna, you nailed my source of inspiration, rather the keeper of the monkeys.

Totally Wicked
"The Wicked Witch of the West" and certainly the whole "The Wizard of Oz" experience is one of my most cherished memories as a little girl. My curiosity about the rest of the story with the green witch was peaked when she referenced her sister from the east. Those darling “Ruby Red Slippers” absolutely caught my attention and clearly influenced my inner soul love of beautiful shoes. But the slippers were not the only thing I took note of. The eastern witch also wore those very fun & funky red & white striped stockings, and her legs curled up like a fruit roll-up when her wicked westwardly sister tried to take the slippers off as her body was disappearing under the tossed house that landed on top of her. The whole scene had me begging for more as I craved to know the family dynamics between the 2 witchy sisters, the one from the east, the one from the west and everyone else in between. In the 1970's there was a Maxwell Coffee comercial starring Margaret Hamilton that would cause me to wonder how could this nice lady making coffee be that same green witch that haled from the west?

Enter Elfaba Thropp & her story defined in the musical "Wicked". Thanks to my dear friend Pat, I discovered Elfaba 2 years ago. Elfaba's story both mesmerized and impacted me so much that if there was ever a character I identified with, it is Elfaba, with her green skin and all. (At least the way she is portrayed on the stage. I tried to read the actual book once but it freaked me out just skipping & dipping through the text so I deposited the paperback in my dear friend, Kathie's lap. Kathie read “Wicked” and reported back that it was pretty weird.)
Elfaba, turns out, is misunderstood. Never mind why. It's complicated. But she stays determined to understand her own role and the roles of others around her. Her green aura is very appealing, even symbolic to me on a very deep level.

Enough psycho-babbling. Who has time for that crap?

Fast forward to October 3, 2008. While roaming the vast fields of flea market mayhem with the same Kathie from above along with our other partner in crimes & misdemeanors, Sara, I spied a cute pillow that stated "Don't make me release the flying monkeys on you!", causing me to spontaneously cackle outloud. Oh how I wish I had bought that darling pillow, ugh!

(Like I need more Halloween decor....)

Wanted: Slogan For A Hockey Mom For Palin Only We Don’t Play Hockey
Now fast forward to October 13th, about 3 weeks ahead of the most critical Presidential election of my lifetime thus far. An identity crisis relative to my circumstances at the time was rubbing me raw. My nerves were already raw from realizing way too many people were drinking the kool-aid & by golly I wanted to exclaim to the world who I was and WHY I would ever be compelled to have come to the conclusion of voting for the McCain-Palin ticket.

After hearing about a t-shirt that read something like "Special Needs Mothers For Palin", I began to try and brainstorm my own slogan. Then there was the yard sign I read that defined the family living there by saying something like "Gun-Owning, Country Loving, Devoted Christian Family for McCain-Palin". Crud, I wanted a yard sign with my own slogan to declare my idenity too! I have always longed to be known by another name other than my own anyway, so this made complete sense to me.

However, defining myself in simple terms simply was not possible.

“BLANK- Mother for McCain Palin!” LAME, LAME, LAME!

For a self-proclaimed marketing maven & maverick in my own right, I was BLANK. That does not happen often. But when it does, it is maddening.

I needed in-put on my description. Calling my friends was NOT an option. They often want to redefine me and I buck them every time. Kenny would just be completely compliant because he is no dummy but I was not trying to come up with a hallmark card though. I needed unbiased and profitable feedback. Who would be more inclined to define me than my own precious children?

So, I drank some of my own kool-aid and enlisted my own little minions after school on that day. What a delusional fantasy as they all were bouncing off the walls, running, screaming, squealing, and screeching in their usual manner. But later after they were all asleep, I took their own personal rambling descriptions of me as their mother and mixed in some loopy thoughts of my own & drafted the following definition of myself:

“F” is for….Former corporate sales scum for a well known brand of clothing whose name starts with the letter L & this Co. literally exists to "cya" (cover your assets!)“L” is for….Loyal to my God, my Country & my Family, Nuff Said! “Y” is for….Yellow sponges who sing, dance, cook, wear clothes & lack good judgment make me belly laugh out loud!“I” is for...Ingenious & dedicated shopper who is, at this present juncture, not shopping thanks to current events, dang it! “N” is for….Not currently on any corporate payroll, but working way harder at this gig than any other gig I have ever had before motherhood! “G” is for….Generation ME~EX'ER ala 1968 (one foot in a disco platform and one foot in a black & white checkered Van, explains why I appear slightly off-balance and displays my range of shoe style affections.) “M” is for…. My kids would really love me more if I would sign them up for very sport known to man kind & I refuse to cave! “O” is for…. Offended by philosophies of those who willingly choose to be unaccountable enigmas in our country! “N” is for….Never going to live down embarrassing mishaps that seem to happen to me! “K” is for…. Kicked many & most of my own bad habits but alas, perfection is not even on my radar! “E” is for….Eternally remodeling our home & am admitted project junkie; foolishly optimistic that a day will come when the funds are found! “Y” is for….Your average adult female with ADD who enjoys swapping that out for OCD during a crisis but also known as a yard junkie when the weather warms.

Had there been more time before the elections, I promise I would have made myself a t-shirt, a yard sign, a website, a pin, a bumpersticker and a sash proclaiming my proud and studied choice to support the now failed ticket using the acronym “Flying Monkey Mothers For McCain-Palin”

My kids are monkeys. And therefore, I am the flying monkey mother.

So there ya go.