tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87097854946007875292024-02-19T11:19:08.366-05:00The Adventures of Mommy MaestroMary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.comBlogger238125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-59253412424642519122011-07-04T20:53:00.003-04:002011-07-04T21:42:55.648-04:00Pixar Cars Sequel....Disapointment<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfLBsYpBCC2pnUyUeE_qqYsnzxv7xtezijsCEy-azLhvZ0jD2wIWCunY1ahyB0SCTQ_3w8hlnRGqE-AeTScm9Qt0PtgiiCO5MNjTgyJKHN5iIPdPXDGMisM9LZPYHqFVZL4hI3RIvRrWQ/s1600/lightningmcqueen.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 160px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 89px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625677075313952546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfLBsYpBCC2pnUyUeE_qqYsnzxv7xtezijsCEy-azLhvZ0jD2wIWCunY1ahyB0SCTQ_3w8hlnRGqE-AeTScm9Qt0PtgiiCO5MNjTgyJKHN5iIPdPXDGMisM9LZPYHqFVZL4hI3RIvRrWQ/s320/lightningmcqueen.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>At last, the long awaited sequel to Cars had arrived. We had been talking about this day for at least a year when we saw the very first preview.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>So there I was with my husband and the boys waiting in line for tickets. It was insisted that we must see the 3D version despite my apprehension of 3D movies.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>See, I come from a time when I remember Jaws 3D being the "big thing." It was when 3D glasses were still made out of cardboard and weighed a mere ounce. Not these gigantic "Revenge of the Nerds" one size fits all frames they hand out to everyone, then expect back at the end of the flick (as if I have any other use for them). </div><br /><br /><br /><div>I remember that darn shark exploding at the end of the movie. Every piece flew out of the screen waiting for the audience to give it a catch. It's likely the children of today would break into hysterics with what we thought at the time were "excellent" special effects.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Let me first say, I loved the first Cars movie. I loved the characters, the story, the jokes. The sequel...not so much. The story itself was a bit complex for kids (just my opinion, but a valid one). The jokes at many times were aimed at the adults; not the kids. The movie itself was a bit too long (1 hour 47 minutes). To the crying boy sitting at the opposite end of our row: "I was also crying on the inside."</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Disney is generally not one to disappoint, but I have to say, that is exactly what happened this time. But wait, I'm not about to give up. Heck, it's only July 4th. Did somebody mention Smurfs the movie? Count me in!</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-55750684665725052992011-06-21T06:30:00.003-04:002011-06-21T07:30:52.203-04:00How Far Would You Go To Save Your Kids?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLwhOVMjEipvhMTSj8Qve-rZiaInH96fB7KHXLH-Cg0b2FgLzyG1KBumr7qYJwlUz3Xscma7TFQDUxVJUaNbConvVwuM2UI0iORTAh1re5q6ObaPB-h7OVzf9EUw0hwQxssZfyVH5pSKh/s1600/lifepreserver.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 122px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620633533745111666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLwhOVMjEipvhMTSj8Qve-rZiaInH96fB7KHXLH-Cg0b2FgLzyG1KBumr7qYJwlUz3Xscma7TFQDUxVJUaNbConvVwuM2UI0iORTAh1re5q6ObaPB-h7OVzf9EUw0hwQxssZfyVH5pSKh/s320/lifepreserver.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>The current Cassie Anthony case has public opinion stirring. "Where did those parents go wrong?" "Is it really the parents fault?" "Just how far would we go for our kids?"</div><br /><br /><br /><div>All these questions are legitimate. But what was shocking was an episode of the View I caught a week ago. I know I wasn't the only one who was stunned by a certain comment Joy Behar made since it was all over the Internet the following day.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I nearly froze when she stated that if she had to she would lie on the stand for her child to save her.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>"Really Joy?" Just exactly what are we saving her from when such actions on your part come down to nothing short of pathetic.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I feel lucky not to be in those parents shoes. And I can't imagine the pain they are going through daily. However, if it came down to me lying on the stand in order to "save" my child; I would decline.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I don't think the definition of "saving" includes promoting dishonesty. Especially when you have spent the majority of their lives teaching the opposite.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>We all make mistakes. And indeed, if my child had done something terribly wrong or brought harm to someone else; I would be there as his mother, not his advocate.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>There are consequences to our decisions...sometimes good, sometimes bad. But in any event, if it were <strong>our </strong>decisions, then it must be <strong>our</strong> consequences.</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-50968962854725843162011-06-19T18:12:00.003-04:002011-06-19T18:43:39.650-04:00Filling In The Gaps (A Tribute to Daddies)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0uZgQbaiPCT2y38h2DGVFBRrfHVJ0ljdGuHSajQnus8qcqQaHpz3X3g5z1K0Mw1KEvLQpn9hDZ8m7WKoAdwyEF8ivU6QszNon1MQo0nJtJsIl2kLXGVyFAtl_7h4TPKVoYoKqFr_Dc4Qi/s1600/dadwithkids.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 114px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620065238678508258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0uZgQbaiPCT2y38h2DGVFBRrfHVJ0ljdGuHSajQnus8qcqQaHpz3X3g5z1K0Mw1KEvLQpn9hDZ8m7WKoAdwyEF8ivU6QszNon1MQo0nJtJsIl2kLXGVyFAtl_7h4TPKVoYoKqFr_Dc4Qi/s320/dadwithkids.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>We just returned from dinner to celebrate Father's Day. It was a chance to get out with my husband and the kids, and thank him for everything he does.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>We don't often speak about the "everything" that Dad's do, because let's face it, that's our role. We cook, we clean, we mend boo boo's etc. etc. Dad's get to stroll in after work, eat dinner, watch a little TV, then head to bed for some restful sleep. At many times, it seems unfair.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>But as I sit and ponder about the whole picture, I realize we work well as a team. Many days, Dad's just get to fill in the gaps. But it is those gaps that could easily turn into holes if they weren't around.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I watched over the weekend as my husband ran a bath for my boys, gave chase through a crowded Chuckee Cheese, made 5 gallons of lemonade for their Alex's Lemonade benefit, combed hair and washed faces.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>It's often so hard to recognize these helpful moments when you're constantly running in circles yourself. Help comes in many forms. As mother's, if we don't see a vacuum or a bottle of Pledge in their hand; if they don't smell like bleach or begin to babble after speaking "child" all day...they have failed to accomplish anything.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I'm am thankful everyday for the little things in my life. Even if I do have to wait for the weekends. I am thankful for the "gaps."</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-65023482414224241052011-06-14T10:23:00.003-04:002011-06-14T10:39:29.607-04:00If It's Not Glued Down...It Will Be Taken!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZaTimS9EwCm5ElXQX3OEfR9yRM5ldX7aUB-xIPLqMc2jOBikp1gdyr_HW-BKFFzVomBA-I3fUrdXSG3yPsWlzqb5FJh9BjaUpwOwkzZXUYds4HRLCgBi5OoCwoMDCjtrVr5DpRqClBN0H/s1600/glue.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 90px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618085047979509538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZaTimS9EwCm5ElXQX3OEfR9yRM5ldX7aUB-xIPLqMc2jOBikp1gdyr_HW-BKFFzVomBA-I3fUrdXSG3yPsWlzqb5FJh9BjaUpwOwkzZXUYds4HRLCgBi5OoCwoMDCjtrVr5DpRqClBN0H/s320/glue.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>I once wrote for my blog every two days or so. Funny how one lifestyle change can bring about so much additional change.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Case in point: I returned to my blog last week only to find my background had disappeared. Further research led me to discover the company that supplied my design had apparently gone out of business. And so, they took my design with them.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I may have received some notice, although I must have misplaced that memo.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>When I quit my job, the only thing I was allowed to take with me was the shoes I walked in on. And of course, my infamous Pez collection. No one seemed to be fazed by that one since every time a good wind would blow through the office, my precious Pez's would turn into a game of domino's. Ahh, memories!!</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Most companies even frown on a pencil leaving the property. But when surveyed, most workers will admit to taking more than that.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Thinking back at some of the jobs I've held over the years, the only thing I was ever interested in leaving with was my mind. Turns out, a few years later, the kids claimed that as their own as well.</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-31586281007940264062011-05-23T06:35:00.002-04:002011-05-23T07:22:18.096-04:00I'm Back!!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNOE6S3qUn1uCqpKPcMG8mqHMZhQ-4cxuk-zFZK-Wk59oowjCE0ADI4sJLSS0GOPBJ1eG3uwzjU4qWKqeld_C8SFmexcal7odJicn9CFxM2I3YEXs9cA1O8eGou1skWCHBXHAWoi2mLQOc/s1600/poltergeist.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 160px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 107px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609870350449951810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNOE6S3qUn1uCqpKPcMG8mqHMZhQ-4cxuk-zFZK-Wk59oowjCE0ADI4sJLSS0GOPBJ1eG3uwzjU4qWKqeld_C8SFmexcal7odJicn9CFxM2I3YEXs9cA1O8eGou1skWCHBXHAWoi2mLQOc/s320/poltergeist.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>Well, it's been a while folks. As I take a look at my blog it's hard to believe that I haven't written a word since Groundhog Day. And if you read that post, you can see why I'm still holding a grudge against that darn animal.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>If you're wondering just what I've been up to, well, it's like this: "Starting a business takes crazy time". And like most Mom's, I have a hard time realizing just how much I can take on.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Although I somehow manage to put a dent in house work by the end of the week, it is those days when the refrigerator starts ringing that I get worried. Yes, that's right, I put the phone in the refrigerator. Luckily, shelf room is limited, and the children were playing safely outside. (There's a silver lining to every story.)</div><br /><br /><br /><div>My goal is to get back to where I was and attempt to leave some daily updates. I mean who doesn't want to hear antics such as: "Me Against the Birds," "Getting In Shape Before You Go To The Gym," and "Did Anyone See My Coffee Cup?"</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I've come to the conclusion that age plays a great role in confusion. So I've decided to kick that bucket list into high gear. At least until I stop substituting salt for sugar in my morning coffee.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-69254241450591644452011-02-21T20:33:00.004-05:002011-02-21T21:35:25.066-05:00No Mercy For the Groundhog<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-kFakUXkbcFC1DORCH3cr2ubg6748ReL1t-srjWKE8IgcAPe2SmC-k59rM2UCA-jTDwXXg2OqZ6WkrqrJksJ39lChNOtl9tYuYsM77YUv-7XKIgQJBO5w7v1JP0MkP4EFwktvSmjIWzh/s1600/groundhog.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 128px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576336134691018114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-kFakUXkbcFC1DORCH3cr2ubg6748ReL1t-srjWKE8IgcAPe2SmC-k59rM2UCA-jTDwXXg2OqZ6WkrqrJksJ39lChNOtl9tYuYsM77YUv-7XKIgQJBO5w7v1JP0MkP4EFwktvSmjIWzh/s320/groundhog.jpg" /></a><br /><div>And just when I'm getting used to seeing my lawn for the first time since last month; God goes and pulls a quick one on me. As I walked by the television tonight I read the words: Winter Storm Warning. </div><br /><div>"What the hell?" I thought. Sure, I live in Pennsylvania. Sure it's still officially Winter. But did anyone catch that 70 degree day we had last week?</div><br /><div>It only takes one hot day to get me in Spring mood. I already visualized the opening of the pool, umbrella drinks and Reggae playing in the background. And now I must return to snow boots, shovels and frostbite.</div><br /><div>Despite growing up in PA, I find nothing remotely respectable about winter. While I chisel ice from my windshield with a credit card, I anxiously await sunshine.</div><br /><div>And while most of my neighbors will be dressed in long johns plus 2 additional layers tomorrow, I am ready to set up a lounge chair.</div><br /><div>I may not be looking forward to waking up in the morning to 3 plus inches of snow, but I'll plow through. The only one enjoying any warmth tomorrow will be that damn ground hog. Who by the way, should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law for this stunt.</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-22860632151395825002011-02-09T20:38:00.005-05:002011-02-10T07:43:08.462-05:00Has Anyone Seen My Ginko Biloba?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-Gh45ywOo6fMqVhgPAwMaOZxbd6Vz0VJMtWIuimm87eWRtu9DZbjxk1nww3zds44wV91Qc8fQS_zzES2Cb2wXd70Cz8XzMAc5TnZb68zJvjy2u6FinKAa85zFejDdvtOIxzGEf0D31z3/s1600/fingertie.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 129px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572039722954168482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-Gh45ywOo6fMqVhgPAwMaOZxbd6Vz0VJMtWIuimm87eWRtu9DZbjxk1nww3zds44wV91Qc8fQS_zzES2Cb2wXd70Cz8XzMAc5TnZb68zJvjy2u6FinKAa85zFejDdvtOIxzGEf0D31z3/s320/fingertie.jpg" /></a><br /><div>There are a lot of things I miss that I no longer have since I decided to have kids. But I think the thing I miss the most is my mind.</div><br /><br /><div>I shouldn't complain... I was warned. Well, sort of. I mean we've all heard of how women become forgetful when they're pregnant. I've heard that our brains actually shrink (This statement has not been approved by the FDA).</div><br /><br /><div>In any event, it so happens that what is lost is lost forever. Although I've tried to recapture that once youthful mind, it has refused to cooperate.</div><br /><br /><div>And so I'm left doing things like attempting to make coffee the other morning without water. (Even Juan Valdez himself would get a chuckle out of that one). And then there was the time I wasted wondering why my check for the American Express bill never cleared. Had it not been for that new purse I bought this week, I may never had realized that the stamped envelope was still waiting to be mailed by yours truly, and was filed nicely inside my wallet (Hello Late Fee).</div><br /><br /><div>So when Christina Aguilera flubbed the Star Spangled Banner at the Super Bowl this past week, I have to admit, I laughed a little. No wait, I laughed a lot.</div><br /><br /><div>I didn't bother ridiculing her like the rest of the world. Although a teleprompter may have been the way to go. While most of us can still remember Christina from her Mousekeeter Days, we have to admit that she is all grown up. And, she is a Mom. And we can only blame her forgetfulness on one thing: Brain Shrinkage!</div><br /><br /><div>And she wasn't the only one. In a bizarre attempt to copyright her own name, Mrs. Sarah Palin forgot to sign her own name to the bottom of the paperwork. Despite the irony, and the hundred or so Palin jokes that come to mind, it still comes back to the same reason: She's a Mom/Brain Shrinkage.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I've heard much about the supplement Ginko Biloba. Some research finds that it helps with forgetfulness. My recent issues with cerebral insufficiency have led me stumbling through medical journals and Googling words like: Brain Shrinkage, Blockhead and Charlie Brown. Despite whatever side effects may come along with this magical potion; I've realized I'm at the point of no return. Tomorrow becomes insufficient vocabulary if I can't remember today.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>My only fear now? "Where did I put that bottle of Ginko Biloba?"</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-74596726861552736372011-01-30T20:40:00.002-05:002011-01-30T21:29:29.558-05:00When Daddies Are Left In Charge<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJKgI2WeHU4BkG6DP6THEZ2iVWSikM_0BHElkhWeWFlomW0Vs_lacjUCEByEa3YuM17gXoObmQpivQU3QE_3uw_hMu1zicD9PRW6tCvvaJLYegV-sGNt6Mm2u1rBc2o1XyFBj3Ylk0Oab/s1600/snowstorm.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 127px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568171509932404962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJKgI2WeHU4BkG6DP6THEZ2iVWSikM_0BHElkhWeWFlomW0Vs_lacjUCEByEa3YuM17gXoObmQpivQU3QE_3uw_hMu1zicD9PRW6tCvvaJLYegV-sGNt6Mm2u1rBc2o1XyFBj3Ylk0Oab/s320/snowstorm.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Last week was pretty crumby at the Brennan Ranch. Aside from the 2 snow storms, early dismissals, and snow days...I had a cold.</div><br /><div>There are few things in this world that bother me as much as when I get sick. Asking for help is generally my last resort; but by Wednesday, I knew I needed it...Bad!</div><br /><div>It's funny how easy our efforts are taken for granted on a regular basis. I sometimes wonder if most Mom's realize what they accomplish during the day. I sure didn't.</div><br /><div>I was awoken from my drunken NyQuil stupor at 5:30am by Hubby to inform me that the kids were off from school due to the storm. At 6:30 I was awoken again to inform me that he had made a mistake...the kids really had school. He also needed to know what time to bring the kids to school.</div><br /><div>I could see the panic in his eyes. I have seen my husband multi task at his job. He is genius. But take away his computer, and he turns to goo.</div><br /><div>By 7:30 am, I decided to check on the family. I found the breakfast table covered in Pop-Tart remnants (The breakfast of Champions). The boys were in pretty good shape. Hubby was too. It's funny how I can spend my whole morning running around, but when I check on my Husband, he is watching the morning news.</div><br /><div>It wasn't until 10 minutes before the kids were about to leave for school, that I realized there was no lunch packed. And it's not like my kids would tell Hubby. </div><br /><div>They were finally off. I could get the rest I needed. Right? Not really.</div><br /><div>As I sat on the couch, the snow continued to fall harder. Finally we received an email that informed us the children would be coming home early. </div><br /><div>"What? They just got there." I thought. What is going on? Well, you know what that means. Mommy had to get into the shower so that she could accompany Daddy back to school. Since the school has different dismissal policies for different situations, I knew my husband was 2 minutes shy of having his head explode. And so I returned the favor and helped out.</div><br /><div>I did get to crash on the couch later that day. I woke up wondering how long I was down. The mailbox had literally disappeared under a pile of snow. School was cancelled again on Thursday. No rest for the weary.</div><br /><div>It's now Sunday night, and they're calling for 2 more storms this week. And while I may not be running at 100%, I am back on my feet. Hubby is headed back to work, and the kids will be back at school.</div><br /><div>We're praying that the storms go in a different direction. But just in case were home bound again, we have a fresh supply of Pop-Tarts waiting in the pantry.</div><br /><div></div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-52312338708113023982011-01-17T20:13:00.006-05:002011-01-17T21:15:09.632-05:00When a Christmas Gift Bites Back<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_-kNvEol1gtAuk_9UbLJyAg9_M1SqMbZyVwVik_F145xnd3fwVvgEkIqsL4b1ORXca28YsaR0aXG4SOL-nObRySM0UlTjcEulHyeQzHtfH9QRBGMJIAohcjbafljWnCmSjqXazr-QYxx/s1600/safetyisjobone.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 63px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563343696918421298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_-kNvEol1gtAuk_9UbLJyAg9_M1SqMbZyVwVik_F145xnd3fwVvgEkIqsL4b1ORXca28YsaR0aXG4SOL-nObRySM0UlTjcEulHyeQzHtfH9QRBGMJIAohcjbafljWnCmSjqXazr-QYxx/s320/safetyisjobone.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Christmas shopping for me begins in late August. Yes, it's true. I'm a bit insane. However, nothing pleases me more than to know when the Christmas season finally arrives, I am more than half way done my shopping. Not to mention, the gifts are even wrapped.</div><br /><br /><div>For the most part, the kids are still easy to shop for. They tell you everything they want. It's just up to us to cut the list in half (once or twice), then hope Santa figures out the rest.</div><br /><br /><div>But when it comes to Husbands...I'm totally stumped. We are at a point in our lives where we have everything we need. Accumulating more just means throwing out what we already have. Occasionally I'm thrown a bone though.</div><br /><br /><div>My husband loves to watch the Food Channel. I find it entertaining myself (sometimes). I'm always amazed that even in the tiniest of kitchens; they seem to have everything they need to make a meal for a party of twelve. I have a hard time cooking for four.</div><br /><br /><div>Despite this, Hubby insist on having gadgets. So when he mentioned he wanted a mandolin- I was only a little surprised. First because I thought he was referring to the musical instrument. (This coming from a man that is perplexed by a kazoo). I finally realized he was referring to a vegetable slicer.</div><br /><br /><div>I hesitated slightly at his request based simply on luck. Yes, I said luck. Let's just say, Hubby didn't exactly pass "Safety Class" with flying colors. Here are a few examples: During driving school he plowed right into the back of another car (with the instructor in the passenger seat); while installing a patio in our back yard, he put the utility knife right through his knee (Stitches!), While taking down Christmas decorations he fell off a ladder (Broken Arm), While searching under a perfectly still sink, he came up and hit his head (Huge Knot).</div><br /><br /><div>So like the loving woman I am...I bought him a sharp object. And like the brave man he is; he decided to use it for the first time while I was out of the house. And if you're hoping for a happy ending; well you should have read a fairytale instead.</div><br /><br /><div>The call kind of went like this: "Do you remember that Christmas gift you bought me Babe?"</div><br /><br /><div>And I already knew. Luckily, all of his digits were still attached. However, based on the amount of band aids and paper towels missing; the loss of blood was significant.</div><br /><br /><div>Well, tomorrow is trash day. Needless to say, there will be a mandolin curbside.</div><br /><br /><div>I can hardly wait to find out what he wants next Christmas. I'm thinking a padded room will suffice.</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-19258098620128133182011-01-12T08:51:00.003-05:002011-01-12T08:56:02.899-05:00Another Snow Storm<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4DDiavS3Q9kRVLbO-U8qiNXL5lslPNE7FIAK-iuHHB_pqCOnzLP31e7HN96lUJ1g7TBuVfzZSdTGAtnwsyiXRJ_BFKbll1e09gQATktEn2CkruUNrOa2FE_mk51-0_-mbNk3fOCW63yAL/s1600/snowangel.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 129px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561297369070417410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4DDiavS3Q9kRVLbO-U8qiNXL5lslPNE7FIAK-iuHHB_pqCOnzLP31e7HN96lUJ1g7TBuVfzZSdTGAtnwsyiXRJ_BFKbll1e09gQATktEn2CkruUNrOa2FE_mk51-0_-mbNk3fOCW63yAL/s320/snowangel.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Sledding and Snow Angels today in PA. Happy Children.....No School!</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-481860171418138892011-01-10T07:16:00.004-05:002011-01-10T07:35:11.230-05:00Prayers for Tuscon<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRm5XPLc5LGKBUnDj0A8jxzka5CgCoKXtEM1vNu1oppxEOHo2MZWHEGbi0IGUxxr46ilKRecxBGrkUOPjd3tao9PW_NmEDZlahd646vaQUvUTIVrxJbOB9qbxmRfuWkiQ85lKUwBvu0kNV/s1600/flaghalfmast.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 113px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560532157892075778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRm5XPLc5LGKBUnDj0A8jxzka5CgCoKXtEM1vNu1oppxEOHo2MZWHEGbi0IGUxxr46ilKRecxBGrkUOPjd3tao9PW_NmEDZlahd646vaQUvUTIVrxJbOB9qbxmRfuWkiQ85lKUwBvu0kNV/s320/flaghalfmast.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Only thoughts and prayers today for those in Tuscon AZ. Life is precious. It should not be so easily taken.</div><br /><div>Join in the moment of silence today at 11am Eastern Time. </div><div> "There are only two forces in the world, the sword and the spirit. In the long run the sword will always be conquered by the spirit." -Napolean Bonaparte</div><div> </div><br /><div></div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-83849421947044445212011-01-07T12:54:00.004-05:002011-01-07T13:16:39.663-05:00It Pays to Shop!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5iR2ou6Cv4zWotBHg5zGBtjHanGcwRBJbZZ-tv13RBijZBto6yFh4s71DtsuNUqxhZigkkOHyTVowh6_fMhtGQLYQirpcXzMCbNHD7Spa-uSD7-t9wGJgFms64n0_Jwrk2-vB4MvaOxgU/s1600/piggybank.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 167px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559509362615474450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5iR2ou6Cv4zWotBHg5zGBtjHanGcwRBJbZZ-tv13RBijZBto6yFh4s71DtsuNUqxhZigkkOHyTVowh6_fMhtGQLYQirpcXzMCbNHD7Spa-uSD7-t9wGJgFms64n0_Jwrk2-vB4MvaOxgU/s320/piggybank.jpg" /></a><br /><div>With the holidays finally over; who couldn't use a little extra cash?</div><br /><div>Why not try <a href="http://65.98.53.169/~adclicks/inboxdollars/click.php?tid=552934">InboxDollars</a>? Inbox Dollars is a unique website that gives you a chance to earn cash for completing tasks.</div><br /><div>We all know how quickly our own inbox can fill up with unwanted emails. But did you ever consider that you could get paid to read email? You can at <a href="http://65.98.53.169/~adclicks/inboxdollars/click.php?tid=552934">InboxDollars</a>.</div><br /><div>Think about how many times you made a purchase online during the holidays. At <a href="http://65.98.53.169/~adclicks/inboxdollars/click.php?tid=552934">InboxDollars</a>, you can actually get paid to shop online. It's just that easy.</div><br /><div>So why not start today? Simply click the icon on my right sidebar. Fill out the short registration, and begin earning your first dollars!</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-75786125414414272542011-01-03T06:36:00.004-05:002011-01-03T07:28:20.393-05:00The 12 Days of Christmas Vacation<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM3BfT2q8JjJl8KI1wvmBXv_nG5mn9lL2CBZvn23oNfHfEd7VrYMtjtAp1ZSCeh3gptoPcpQRfthg3PdmMVxfPyh79v3kwoTJ2PBjnQSU_v9uMLROE9pvCjdTc5WiyzNyTjvML_Gn3llvw/s1600/decoratingtree.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 115px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557935251222582210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM3BfT2q8JjJl8KI1wvmBXv_nG5mn9lL2CBZvn23oNfHfEd7VrYMtjtAp1ZSCeh3gptoPcpQRfthg3PdmMVxfPyh79v3kwoTJ2PBjnQSU_v9uMLROE9pvCjdTc5WiyzNyTjvML_Gn3llvw/s320/decoratingtree.jpg" /></a><br /><div>It's hard to believe that the Christmas season is finally done. Two months of preparation for one day, and it's over in the blink of an eye.</div><br /><div>I sit here savoring the final minutes of peace before I have to wake the kids up for their first day back to school.</div><br /><div>"What is school?" I'm sure they will ask. Their last week has been filled with a shocking amount of toy play, junk food, television and day trips. What kid would want to return to school?</div><br /><div>I'm finding myself asking: "What is routine?" I lost all sense of routine these past 10 days. I was even able to get a cold and relax. Imagine That. Although I felt like poo at times, it was real nice watching my husband do wash.</div><br /><div>Sad how we have to depend on vacation to get caught up on life... but that's exactly what we did. And I enjoyed every minute of it.</div><br /><div>How was your vacations?</div><br /><div></div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-54776386694000406342010-12-31T08:45:00.003-05:002010-12-31T09:46:38.848-05:00Happy New Years!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7HTU2dKAma9wfixYwQf1_ELodRbGLfDB0LRnsZyd6-sSZek5Ai8hmBFfOx7anLGR8TyhuPUnifYFRNPCAjdgQkpy0A174B3c-BN8UH6OTQeN0Oar2YquUun35noON7kerbuj-LSjiOcMB/s1600/newyears.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 128px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556857835592508930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7HTU2dKAma9wfixYwQf1_ELodRbGLfDB0LRnsZyd6-sSZek5Ai8hmBFfOx7anLGR8TyhuPUnifYFRNPCAjdgQkpy0A174B3c-BN8UH6OTQeN0Oar2YquUun35noON7kerbuj-LSjiOcMB/s320/newyears.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I'm not a big believer in resolutions. By January 30th, most people who have made a resolution have already broken it or forgotten exactly what they were shooting for in the first place. This includes myself Folks.</div><br /><div>So instead of focusing on 365 days; I've decided to take it one day at a time. My key word this year is "Good."</div><br /><div>"Good friends, good times, good health, and good choices."</div><br /><div>I've come to realize that focusing on good health is alot easier than focusing on that 15 pounds that refuses to leave my side (or my butt for that matter).</div><br /><div>Good friends are hard to come by. But I've been fortunate enough to be surrounded by good acquaintances. This is a great time to take a good look at the company you keep. Have they been as great of a friend to you as you have been to them? If not, then ask just one question: "Why are you keeping them?"</div><br /><div>It really comes down to good choices. Will we regret tomorrow the decisions we make today? I'm hoping not.</div><br /><div>2010 was a tough year. It brought about alot of change for me and those around me. And while I look forward to change; I realize that it will take more than a change of date to bring about some real change.</div><br /><div>So let's raise our glasses Ladies. Here's to 2012. May all your dreams come true!</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-48263953661773113422010-12-25T18:18:00.003-05:002010-12-25T18:50:23.482-05:00If Only I Asked for a Shovel<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPL4WcQ7OSelVmnGh1egLT4ZIOtuOoLogEdomAws5lYuQ3J_4zix8ydqKWo978CsfBlClD8JxaI8YpCGomvDbR-OIycOagSoc8ktqOuqiR7UB49oRaGVs_SseEyUrkvKahmDY4zOHyTBm/s1600/shovelingsnow.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 120px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554771459002367842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPL4WcQ7OSelVmnGh1egLT4ZIOtuOoLogEdomAws5lYuQ3J_4zix8ydqKWo978CsfBlClD8JxaI8YpCGomvDbR-OIycOagSoc8ktqOuqiR7UB49oRaGVs_SseEyUrkvKahmDY4zOHyTBm/s320/shovelingsnow.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I usually wouldn't think about writing during a holiday. But after my husband decided to view Despicable Me with the family; I called it a night. And although it's only 6:30 Eastern Time, I'm winding down at the speed of light.</div><br /><div>The children decided to check if Santa arrived at 6:20 am. And while the excitement of Christmas is overwhelming, I have hit the age where I finally understand why coffee is considered a remarkable drug.</div><br /><div>The first 2 hours of the morning were spent unwrapping presents, catching that perfect picture on a camera that refuses to flash until our child has already left the room, sipping cold coffee, and reading directions in 4 different languages and hoping one will help you get that toy together. Ahhh, Christmas!!!</div><br /><div>All in all, things were perfect. And nothing beats a day together with the family. Unless of course you find out from the National Weather Station that a snow blizzard is heading your way tomorrow. Now that's fantastic!</div><br /><div>Actually, you got to love it when the weather station tells you you're going to get anywhere between 7 and 12 inches of snow with 30 mile an hour winds. You look around and realize that Santa remembered everything but snow boots for the kids. Talk about practical. Not to worry. I'm sure we can dig out with the new Nintendo DS's. Or shall I say: "We'll be digging out while the kids play their Nintendo DS'S. Can't Wait.</div><br /><div>Well, I hope everyone out there had a wonderful Christmas. And if you live in PA.......Happy Digging! </div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-42829269149826295242010-11-28T20:57:00.004-05:002010-11-28T21:41:45.567-05:00Why I Love Black Friday!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih75Vsfb2xq7fJ7ilwYfsGAJM5oQ7OZmaQgsN7Y9E9DHZjBGoNhyphenhyphenRbtK_YVzFYdiRXmBg4bT3voaLGa4UEF_r8drg2x1-DsK0ee953gtfWENPLNptmKs1yc-3NFBaD98idxH9dK8TMnwzy/s1600/2daysale.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 258px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 196px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544791819851132370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih75Vsfb2xq7fJ7ilwYfsGAJM5oQ7OZmaQgsN7Y9E9DHZjBGoNhyphenhyphenRbtK_YVzFYdiRXmBg4bT3voaLGa4UEF_r8drg2x1-DsK0ee953gtfWENPLNptmKs1yc-3NFBaD98idxH9dK8TMnwzy/s320/2daysale.jpg" /></a><br /><div>To my loyal readers I must <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">apologize</span>. I haven't written in a month. Not because I haven't thought of you all, but rather, I have been training for the big day. Black Friday that is.</div><br /><div>And while training may have begun the day after Halloween, the day came and went quicker than expected.</div><br /><div>Coupons and store maps in hand, the alarm rung at 3am. And off I headed into uncharted territory. Not really, but it sounded like a good beginning for a story.</div><br /><div>Actually, as tradition would have it, I brought my Mother along and my running shoes (equally as important that day).</div><br /><div>I would advise anyone who takes on this adventure to have a plan. Start with a list of people to buy for. Decide on the perfect gifts. Search <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">flyers</span>. Investigate opening times. Check bank balances (one can easily get carried away, i.e.- "It wasn't my fault. The purple sweater whispered to me").</div><br /><div>And while I may be the topic of jokes in my family ("I heard Mary was at the Mall before Last Call was even served.") My madness has served me well. For the simple task of waking up before the roosters; I have managed to save thousands of dollars....No Joke!</div><div> And what have I done with all my new found fortunes you ask? Well, I bought a brand new pair of running shoes.</div><div> Enjoy Training:</div><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POwG7udjg_Y">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POwG7udjg_Y</a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-33735520007555064622010-11-01T06:44:00.008-04:002010-11-01T20:35:19.973-04:00Halloween Is Just For Kids...Not!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1LM47q41LYzliH-pS1BqEE4Fs9zw2fSfBt97Ybdb-ROUj_4uGnNqjzXGKmZoWTquxSNmE2DKDX3VWGgSlgbF9wrQi0tSBo70-L6kG-l45YXoocprkjljVEJI49tEA64KReD-SgGHf4tp/s1600/PA310472.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534744372486512610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1LM47q41LYzliH-pS1BqEE4Fs9zw2fSfBt97Ybdb-ROUj_4uGnNqjzXGKmZoWTquxSNmE2DKDX3VWGgSlgbF9wrQi0tSBo70-L6kG-l45YXoocprkjljVEJI49tEA64KReD-SgGHf4tp/s320/PA310472.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2scRsJmcu9uGrV4E2ZHnTENnPjYBYU7-9KmT15tJy8oUkS6Yid2nI2ZsIgvSgBpsAjHbRLPoG78x9-Y-fsHyLXJEffQRW65RhPqHkPJNiKAML6-YnojD1skMNBlWG7OML3TAacgCbwncu/s1600/PA310472.JPG"></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAf_ThRW47tiSsTnn_1GhaCbeN4YVuMdWVmzre7dtvLSo9LjAwUZ1WPU2SowXPYwf8TonFLPs0RA_UKD9U63GneyPykczR8-M_JBYqFoqzl3Gkms_rD9KJOt0aQDy1j99HOLQ5N3SHdreD/s1600/PA310474.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><div>Well another Halloween has finally passed. All this preparation; and it's over in a matter of hours. Is it worth it? You betcha!</div><br /><br /><br /><div>There are very few people that face Halloween with as much enthusiasm as myself. I have a hard time understanding why. I mean it wasn't that long ago that we all marched through our neighborhoods with larger than life pillowcases hoping for the "Mother Load" of all candy. And yet somehow over the years we have lost our luster.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Maybe it's just about passing the torch. I know how it makes me feel when I see my children all dressed up and ready to hit the streets. They can barely sit for dinner, let alone stay by my side as we visit the many houses for treats.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>If you were one of the lucky ones who viewed the Halloween episode of Modern Family this year, you would understand exactly where I'm coming from. It is that exact excitement that takes over my whole being come the first of October until the big finale on the 31st.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>So when my sister proposed the idea of dressing up as the ghost of Abraham Lincoln, I felt it was only right that she needed a John Wilkes Booth. And yes, that is us in the picture. Please give her all the credit for the makeup. My talent ends with baking cookies.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>No, we didn't bother anyone for candy. That shipped sailed long ago. However, celebrating Halloween with a great costume is right up my alley. Luckily, my sister holds the same belief.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>There were some great costumes out there last night. But few stood up to Lincoln and Booth. I only wish there were more grown ups who continued their Halloween spirit into adult years.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Take it from me. You'll have a great time!</div></div></div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-24622704841622345542010-10-27T07:11:00.005-04:002010-10-27T18:44:29.471-04:00Thirty Six Wishes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjET6JpQCxNPoCIkxLbS2jtHg4nknJgqzGnR2rRtMiHSIPIWC2NnXAhcfCssCrTFSDJ8s5R6an-McGZr1JnsEHntS9VGVIke6UgReV1Q_X22eicw4b8OpTdCsuPERsBOqpHJ6H07pgYSlOR/s1600/wishlist.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532857663538926754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 124px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjET6JpQCxNPoCIkxLbS2jtHg4nknJgqzGnR2rRtMiHSIPIWC2NnXAhcfCssCrTFSDJ8s5R6an-McGZr1JnsEHntS9VGVIke6UgReV1Q_X22eicw4b8OpTdCsuPERsBOqpHJ6H07pgYSlOR/s320/wishlist.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>In less than 24 hours I will be another year older. The thing I noticed about turning 36 is that it really isn't significant. Don't believe me? Check out any birthday card kiosk. It is there that you will find a card for 35 and 40. But if you are a little off the beaten path...let's say 36, Forget It!</div><br /><br /><div>So in honor of all that is wrong with this age, I decided to keep with trends and make 36 wishes. I mean why should I only get one. It's really unfair to the other 35 candles that lined up to celebrate as well. </div><br /><br /><div>Hold on to your hats ladies. After you're done reading this list, you'll wish you were 36 today too.</div><br /><br /><div>I wish for:</div><br /><br /><div>1) World Peace (This is strictly a default answer for when it's time to go to my final resting place, and God wants to know why I was so greedy on my 36th Birthday).</div><br /><br /><div>2) A visit from Manola Blahnik stating he has the perfect size 11 shoe just for me.</div><br /><br /><div>3) Soft toilet paper in Mall bathrooms (face it, the urge only happens when our arms are loaded with clothes).</div><br /><br /><div>4) Clothes Dryers with a self-folding option. (My oven has a self cleaning option..what gives?)</div><br /><br /><div>5) Meet Oprah Winfrey.</div><br /><br /><div>6) Road construction that is performed between midnight and 4 am. (Let's face it, they're never going to finish anyway. What's a few less hours on the job?)</div><br /><br /><div>7) A grocery cart where all 4 wheels work.</div><br /><br /><div>8) A dozen roses for that guy who cut me off the other day. (Judging by his middle finger, his day was worse than mine).</div><br /><br /><div>9) A Fast Line at the grocery store that actually deserves the name.</div><br /><br /><div>10) A Personal Chef, or at least someone with enough patience that could show me how to cook. ("Paging Rachel Ray. Attention, Mrs. Ray.")</div><br /><br /><div>11) A Christmas List from my children that does not require a second mortgage.</div><br /><br /><div>12) A beautiful sunset, and time to watch it.</div><br /><br /><div>13) More "great" teachers.</div><br /><br /><div>14) Less rudeness.</div><br /><br /><div>15) More kindness.</div><br /><br /><div>16) A world where it's safe to let our children run outside.</div><br /><br /><div>17) A cup of hot cocoa (with fluff of course).</div><br /><br /><div>18) Schools with adequate budgets. (Where did your tax money go this year?)</div><br /><br /><div>19) Politicians who care just as much about this country as my grandparents did.</div><br /><br /><div>20) The right to speak one's mind- even if it isn't always "politically correct."</div><br /><br /><div>21) A comfortable pair of sneakers.</div><br /><br /><div>22) A car that rides like a Cadillac but requires the payment of a Kia.</div><br /><br /><div>23) A hot air balloon ride.</div><div> </div><br /><div>24) A third arm. (If you're a Mom; you understand).</div><div> </div><br /><div>25) A family portrait.</div><div> </div><br /><div>26) Curiosity.</div><div> </div><br /><div>27) Good health.</div><div> </div><br /><div>28) A warm bath.</div><div> </div><br /><div>29) A piece of delicious chocolate, with the calories of a tic tac.</div><div> </div><br /><div>30) A smaller butt.</div><div> </div><br /><div>31) Wisdom. (To understand only exercise will assist Wish #30)</div><div> </div><br /><div>32) A share in Apple Stock. (Dear Mr. Gates, I've been real good this year...)</div><div> </div><br /><div>33) The ability to be present in every moment.</div><div> </div><br /><div>34) Be a good friend, a good wife, a great Mom.</div><div> </div><br /><div>35) Pay it Forward.</div><div> </div><br /><div>36) Be grateful. Even if I only get one wish on my list, I am still the luckiest woman I know. </div><br /><br /><div></div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-44474047170087284942010-10-19T20:06:00.003-04:002010-10-19T20:46:12.550-04:00How I Miss 9 to 5<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYkIFz7RZPrvV_qMK8Ud6tSx7Sm8lhblSNlSY8xSta_uCCweb48r5KNs8ou8CHqMFPtAV4LmsbPsfl-7QAx_zq1cW09lFZ_H5k1xIfIRfWqu9yWftBmZ-YJtr_r419zVzZac8779jnAuM/s1600/ninetofive.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529922645994296594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 314px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYkIFz7RZPrvV_qMK8Ud6tSx7Sm8lhblSNlSY8xSta_uCCweb48r5KNs8ou8CHqMFPtAV4LmsbPsfl-7QAx_zq1cW09lFZ_H5k1xIfIRfWqu9yWftBmZ-YJtr_r419zVzZac8779jnAuM/s320/ninetofive.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Lately I've been missing nine to five. Back when I was a kid; that was your work hours. Unless of course you happened to be a farmer (then all bets were off). But if you were just a regular Joe, you could count on your Dad pulling in the driveway around 5:30pm. Mom would have dinner ready on the table. My siblings and I would see how fast we could scoff down our food so we could return to the backyard for some more play before the sun gave up for the day.</div><br /><div>But things are different now. If you are one of the lucky ones who still have a job, you're holding on for dear life. Realizing that your pink slip may soon show up at the top of the pile, you no longer work to live, but must live to work.</div><br /><div>The day is gone when Dad left for work sometime around 8:15 am. Some kids don't even get to see their Daddies in the morning. Unfortunately, some don't get to see their Mommies either.</div><br /><div>If you think this way of life isn't affecting us; take a long hard look around you. When was the last time a stranger smiled at you, held a door, or borrowed sugar? When was the last time you sat down to dinner with the entire family, gone on vacation, or given up your place in line?</div><br /><div>We are overtired, overworked, hurried, underpaid, overindulged, and blinded by simplicity. We have taken someone else's definition of who we "must" be, where we "must" be; and turned it into our own credo.</div><br /><div>It's time to slow down, and to become happy once more.</div><br /><div>How about you start tomorrow. Let's say 9 am.</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-55831910334119942522010-10-12T20:46:00.005-04:002010-10-15T12:09:15.677-04:00No Thank You, I'll Do It Myself<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0epyEtEo7EWEe7Rus68mXZ_vz9TWGkdAakZVtJgZ0nkk-Ihif0I6nlxhW_PdCA7zgmmYOuzPLh9rhR1Oxsz52f9_aADyHS_1vqTi6GnDulxOr00q9uZHvgsBwGZMiFwm1kY9vimo-Ep5B/s1600/librarian.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528305549082796466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 166px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0epyEtEo7EWEe7Rus68mXZ_vz9TWGkdAakZVtJgZ0nkk-Ihif0I6nlxhW_PdCA7zgmmYOuzPLh9rhR1Oxsz52f9_aADyHS_1vqTi6GnDulxOr00q9uZHvgsBwGZMiFwm1kY9vimo-Ep5B/s320/librarian.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>While I finished my breakfast and coffee this morning, I quickly scanned through my email. I noticed one that had come from my library. To my surprise, it was an overdue notice.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Now I was positive that I had returned our books. I remembered it so well in fact because I had counted the books twice before I left the house to make sure I had everything. I then drove to the library and threw all our books down the chute.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>As it turns out, they received all the books but one. Which by the way was the audio selection my husband choose. Immediately I went into recovery mode. Maybe it had fallen out of the bag? Maybe it was under the car seat? Maybe the dog ate it?</div><br /><br /><br /><div>With no luck I decided to head over to the library. And this is when it happened:</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I approached the desk and kindly explained to the librarian my situation. I told her I had placed all the books in the bin at the same time, so I didn't understand how there was just one missing. And believe it or not, this is what came out of her mouth next:</div><br /><br /><br /><div>"Well, did you look for it on the shelf?"</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I was convinced at this point that the bun on her head had been pulled entirely too tight. All I could get out of my mouth was: "Really?"</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Clearly she had witnessed me walk through the doors less than a minute ago. How she thought it was possible for me to have scanned the library for a book that was legitimately returned a week ago, but was now being held over my head with a $10 fine and a collection threat, was a mystery to me.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>I was suddenly likening my library to one of those old abandoned buildings where some entrepreneur comes through in October and hires all the towns teenagers to dress the place up in cobwebs and black sheets then charge the public an unbelievable amount of money and convince them it's haunted.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>My librarian was Head Ghoul.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Well in the spirit of all that is Halloween, I graciously went to search for my book. Since I realized said Head Ghoul's ass was stuck to said stool.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>And guess what? That's right. I found it!</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Luckily when I returned, Head Ghoul had vanished (Probably hanging upside down behind the book case). However, in her place was left a much kinder, gentler librarian who must have overheard my story.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>She immediately scanned in the book and cleared off my card. And in the blink of an eye, I was no longer a Wanted Woman. </div><br /><br /><div>I try not to be of the mindset that "When you want the job done right, you have to do it yourself." I try to believe in people and their abilities, especially if they've been hired to do the job. However, when I was asked to go look for that book myself, I have to admit I was thrown for a loop.</div><br /><br /><div>I'm thinking next time I need to return some books; I'll just save everyone the trouble, and scan them in myself.</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-11149005448335217162010-10-11T06:28:00.003-04:002010-10-11T06:42:33.743-04:00Bye Bye Character Underwear<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDlhsV7_uMHj4y7S89xyfzgW18BEGJ0rtAI4B9HKEMHPaDE9GPa3u9qE4u_hgfnqAMf3_jPmjUnuat20Iaq8t5edSYYcB12Yi4WUMVB_CWunbLMbfY8SmosrOCp3bVb3OE7nKy5_L4X1H/s1600/PantsOn.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526737038472128690" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 167px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDlhsV7_uMHj4y7S89xyfzgW18BEGJ0rtAI4B9HKEMHPaDE9GPa3u9qE4u_hgfnqAMf3_jPmjUnuat20Iaq8t5edSYYcB12Yi4WUMVB_CWunbLMbfY8SmosrOCp3bVb3OE7nKy5_L4X1H/s320/PantsOn.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>So there I was in Kohl's last week (enjoying the freedom that a 30% coupon gives one). When it was time to begin to shop for the boys.</div><br /><div>I still love shopping for my kids. I realize one day soon, they will no longer want to wear the fashions that I have chosen for them. But until that day arrives (I was soon in for a surprise), I will continue one of my favorite "Mommy Jobs."<br />I had told the boys to follow Hubby so that they could pick out some new underwear. Within seconds, Scooter returned to show off the Scooby Doo and Transformer underwear that he just had to have. It's funny how some of the simplest of things can bring a smile to their faces.<br />Finally, Potter returned.<br />"I decided to get these," he said.<br />He handed me the package. "Wait a minute," I thought. Where's Scooby Doo, Sponge Bob, Spiderman?" They were absolutely plain.</div><br /><div>"I didn't want the cartoon ones anymore, Mom."</div><br /><div>What did I just hear? No cartoons. He still watches cartoons. Why doesn't he want them on his underwear? And just like that, I felt it. The overwhelming feeling that my son was growing up. And it was happening right in the middle of the underwear section at Kohls.</div><br /><div>Suddenly I wanted to leave. Especially when I saw the look on Hubby's face. He was overjoyed. It was as if Potter just hit his first home run. I didn't get it. A guy thing I guess.</div><br /><div>There are lots of first in a child's life, and for the most part, we look forward to them. This underwear thing caught me totally by surprise. And to be honest, I could have used another year!</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-85816871797916259402010-09-20T06:19:00.003-04:002010-09-20T06:44:28.389-04:00Relax?...Really?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLFo9qa-plIkG050IOqIZYK8STHAz6J4NMmMaeunSz7EEBMzs_140iHd2yqWoWLGWtYh0hIR8ei7gfEWE_TiNXUHxWGAf5HbSiqWjDCuMLrCncbQAbloJYc_ffM6ROM53F5RoUjQec4Or4/s1600/busymom.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518944239504908946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 156px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLFo9qa-plIkG050IOqIZYK8STHAz6J4NMmMaeunSz7EEBMzs_140iHd2yqWoWLGWtYh0hIR8ei7gfEWE_TiNXUHxWGAf5HbSiqWjDCuMLrCncbQAbloJYc_ffM6ROM53F5RoUjQec4Or4/s320/busymom.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>With the kids back to school I had this notion that I may be able to relax just a bit. Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking.</div><br /><div>Once September hits, it's like a whirlwind in the house. I like schedules. I like them a lot. But seriously, my day now consist of blocks. I've become a human daily planner.</div><br /><div>"Where do I have to be at 11?" "Where do I have to be at 12?"</div><br /><div>It's only the second week in and I'm terrified of forgetting things. I thought that I wouldn't have to worry about forgetfulness until menopause. Apparently it's sneaking up on me faster than I expected.</div><br /><div>I was in Target yesterday, and all I really needed to get was a few supplies for the kids Religion class. It seemed simple enough. Would you believe they were out of pencil cases? I was convinced it was my fault. I just wasn't looking in the right place. But sure enough...no pencil cases. I probably would have stayed longer searching the isles up and down, but as I mentioned earlier about the blocks. I just didn't have the time.</div><br /><div>After school today we have about an hour to eat dinner, do homework and change clothes so that we arrive at Karate practice in time. That is where I will spend 2 hours because my children can't possibly be in the same class. By the time we get home, it's bath time, pajamas, stories and bed time. This schedule is the same for Tuesdays as well.</div><br /><div>The rest of the week consist of: Back to School Night, a vendor open house, a meeting for small business owners, two orders of cookies, a flea market and a neighborhood party. Am I a bit worried? You betcha. </div><br /><div>Somehow, like every other mother out there pulling her hair out, I will make it. I may be bald by Saturday, but I will make it.</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-80509205792684741952010-09-15T06:38:00.002-04:002010-09-15T07:39:25.354-04:00I Met The Pilates Gods<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadtKFpIoo9py-bkr0_ax8pA3Q7bF6PMcU3ZJ4IVxsxfF4FpBn-0GK2P2GYa501Sku9qE5jXYbVOVtFSEi_-tW1N3-twm7WAxDzua_EUtjqqF3-nOXEkmU5-g3Hq_iSSQNmMkX-3druNsU/s1600/pilates.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517103446485458914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadtKFpIoo9py-bkr0_ax8pA3Q7bF6PMcU3ZJ4IVxsxfF4FpBn-0GK2P2GYa501Sku9qE5jXYbVOVtFSEi_-tW1N3-twm7WAxDzua_EUtjqqF3-nOXEkmU5-g3Hq_iSSQNmMkX-3druNsU/s320/pilates.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>No, I'm not kidding. Last night, my gym had a get acquainted night for members who wanted to learn more about their new Pilate's program.</div><br /><div>As usual, I was early, so I was quickly greeted by the three most healthy people I had ever seen. And with my usual humor I couldn't help but ask: "How long before I get to look like you?" Well, that gave them all a laugh. But I was serious. I was ready to sign. </div><br /><div>They were eager to show me the equipment, which I must warn you, I swear I saw in Silence of the Lambs. It's not exactly user-friendly. Unless of course you already belong to the Pilate's God Group. (I do not).</div><br /><div>Before I knew it, my legs were in straps and my buttocks was gliding along a platform with wheels. There were pulleys, harnesses, and handles. One bad move and I thought I could easily be shot right into the pool.</div><br /><div>On top of that shocking experience, I come to find out that the Pilate's Classes do not fall under my membership. I have to pay extra....Bummer!</div><br /><div>So I'm left with a dilemma of some sort. Do I continue to do what I've been doing? Or do I jump in (glide) with both feet and try something new. I must say it beats those aerobic classes where everyone is huffing and puffing, anxiously looking for their asthma inhalers. And of course it beats running on the treadmill for a mile (Which believe me, I did the other day). I swore that my insides were sure to come detached, and smack against the wall behind me. What a sight that would have been.</div><br /><div>I guess I've already made my decision. It's Pilate's Time!</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-85828624952146546612010-09-13T06:30:00.005-04:002010-09-13T07:35:53.293-04:00It's Yard Sale Time Again<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2c7UosSCPN8Mhmt7skKXWpBJyins0uGT-2Nx6xE2_4MAT-X4dRgKCR9BbrUU7D4gVT3dZpkZg48Lne9fIBDsSLxqxTYCvqWS_sUEVMsSPsiovEBsBbYDcyQKztV5QJBfUFsTkxDpeeDJ/s1600/yardsale.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516359318437451474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2c7UosSCPN8Mhmt7skKXWpBJyins0uGT-2Nx6xE2_4MAT-X4dRgKCR9BbrUU7D4gVT3dZpkZg48Lne9fIBDsSLxqxTYCvqWS_sUEVMsSPsiovEBsBbYDcyQKztV5QJBfUFsTkxDpeeDJ/s320/yardsale.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>This Saturday is our annual borough wide yard sale. And already I am finding myself overwhelmed. Unlike past years, I don't have the extra time to go through as much "stuff" as I was hoping to.</div><br /><div>I still find it funny just how much junk ends up on my front lawn every year. No matter how well I did during the year at keeping clutter to a minimum, I'm still able to showcase a good amount of crap.</div><br /><div>One neighbor actually asked me "Where does it all come from?" I was stunned. I was under the impression that anyone could have these sales. I didn't think twice last year when things like a Pilate's machine, ladder, and Halloween costumes were sprawled across my driveway. The hundreds of strangers that showed up, didn't seem to mind either.</div><br /><div>So what's in store this year? Well, since we repainted the kids rooms this year, there will be lots of accessories to find. There will be the normal kids clothes that go quickly for just 50 cents a piece. And if you're looking for a beautiful patio table; stop on by. See, the measurements for the new gazebo we purchased didn't exactly allow for the table. So needless to say, that too will be on the lawn this weekend.</div><br /><div>Oh, and let us not forget the cookies. It's the yard sale where our cookie company first got its start. For only $2. you can get a bag of delicious gourmet cookies. The kids will be manning their first lemonade stand, so if you're in the neighborhood, stop on by.</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709785494600787529.post-35908373632966474802010-09-08T10:03:00.003-04:002010-09-08T10:32:58.650-04:00When Little Hands Let Go<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv143pjovKqTHA4qeRsZoA5-aSZf3CkN_Zx0mu3UtOKjFeXjwb7A_ogvneQNInklBsCld6jGeAgMZdQWsSJfHbrU_FBdeNVv_RfXR6uN2Q8hSQuTtplPFD2pF-xgYIXPtOWqIZJpSycJFt/s1600/handprints.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514550600969419458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 85px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv143pjovKqTHA4qeRsZoA5-aSZf3CkN_Zx0mu3UtOKjFeXjwb7A_ogvneQNInklBsCld6jGeAgMZdQWsSJfHbrU_FBdeNVv_RfXR6uN2Q8hSQuTtplPFD2pF-xgYIXPtOWqIZJpSycJFt/s320/handprints.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>The alarm clock sounded at 5:45am. With so much to get done, I should have jumped right out of bed, but instead I decided to lay there just a few more minutes. I thought about the day ahead. It was the first day of school. And it's official, I now have the house to myself.</div><br /><div>Most of our routine remained the same. We ate breakfast, made our beds, and watched a bit of T.V. The kids were even excited to help with our annual tradition of taking first day pictures on the front porch. Since Daddy had to go to work, I had to trust the kids to take turns with the camera so that I could take a picture with each child.</div><br /><div>The ride to school was uneventful. And even when I thought the tears would begin...they never came from either child.</div><br /><div>Potter, my new first grader, entered class with gusto. He waved as to say, "Go ahead Mom, I'm OK." And so I did. Ever so happy to have Scooter my kindergartner reach for my hand. Surprisingly, he never cried either. Although there were a few of his new friends that looked like they may not make it to the classroom door.</div><br /><div>When it was time to wave goodbye, I did my best at giving my proudest smile.</div><br /><div>By the time I had reached the car, I was a sloppy mess. I knew this would pass, but so had all those firsts and lasts in a blink of an eye: "The first day of First Grade," "The first day of Kindergarten," and "The last time I helped button 2 shirts in one day."</div><br /><div>When I returned home I quickly pulled out the camera to review this mornings pictures. I should have expected that when you hand a camera to your child, you don't always get what you expect. So there I was in both pictures, hugging my child. The only problem...my head was cut off in both pictures. I could do nothing but laugh.</div><br /><div>It are moments like these that end up in scrapbooks. It are moments like these that help get you through the roughest of times. It are moments like these that help you, "When Little Hands Let Go."</div>Mary K Brennanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16551895463680549205noreply@blogger.com1