Disney – Page 5 – my ft.notes

Table Topic Tuesday. 10/8.

Happy Tuesday to you. Ready for today’s Table Topic? It’s a good one.

What doesn’t make me laugh? I’m easily amused. Zero to Teary (with a chance of tinkle) in 2 seconds flat.

And, when it comes to jokes, I have a four-year-old’s humor. Want to hear a few of my favorites? Yay!

Why was the bee flying through the air with his legs crossed? He was looking for the BeePee station!

Ba-Dum. Chhh.

Why was the little strawberry crying? Her parents were in a jam. Awwww.

Why doesn’t Snow White have an iPhone? She’s afraid of apples! (C’mon. This one’s a keeper).

I laugh hardest with people. As long as a person has material to entertain with, I’ll keep feeding them giggles. If the people in the car next to mine are laughing, I’ll help myself and smile right along with them. And is there anything more fun than being in a room full of chortling, tittering strangers? Nope. Even though I’ve sat through the same bits dozens of times, the audience participation always makes for brand new comedy on the Laugh Floor.

Funnies in written form are a taller order. Unless it’s Erika Botfeld’s wit, this piece by David Sedaris or Cake Wrecks.

Funny. Every. Single. Time.

My pal Lindsay weighed in, too.

To be honest, there are few things that don’t make me laugh. It’s my thing. I laugh really easy, and I cry really easy. Both can get me in trouble. I’m one of those that’ll bust a gut over just about anything — a silly cat video, a competitive game of Apples to Apples, bad things happening to other people, memes that make me go, “THAT’S SO TRUE!,” and friends who have no shame when it comes to a wide open dance floor. I, however, wouldn’t go near one without a drink in my hand for fear of others laughing at me rather than with me. I speak from experience. But laughter that brings me to tears — face-to-face with my favorite emotion — comes from being around confident, genuine people who can have a great time doing anything, anywhere. Those people are born with the gift of funny. I’m lucky enough to have people like that in my life. They keep the tears flowing and the good times at an arm’s length.

Your turn to spill it. What makes you pitch a silly?

Octoberfestive

Tis the season for class parties, little league snack duty and office trick-or-treaters.

When we were kids, didn’t the grown-ups throw some candy in a cartoonish tin and call it a day? Or, if they were really feeling fancy, they made ghosts out of lollipops. Do y’all remember these? A tootsie pop, draped in a tissue, tied with a ribbon right at the bottom of the sucker, finished with black magic marker eyes and maybe a round little mouth? Pre-Pinterest gold.

I don’t think that I’m supposed to admit this out loud, but I love the Pinterestification of the holidays–this crafty revolution that makes an ordinary girl think she has scissor super powers. Until she tries to bring a pin into real life. That’s when the original idea and my attempt at it usually ends up looking like reverse before-and-after photos.

Anybody with me? Well, there are a few things I’ve tried that almost resembled the picture I started with. If you’re DIY-challenged like me, these autumnal yummies are fun, festive and nearly foolproof. You only need 3 things to make each of them and none of them require any baking or cooking. Woot!

Owl Cupcakes: my favorite. You can bake the cuppies yourself or buy store-baked (YES!) and top them off with Oreo cookies and Reese’s Pieces. The kids can make their own funny faces. (We also made a batch of snowy owls).

Pumpkin Favors. These guys are fun to hand out. You just need tulle, pipe cleaners and candy. They do take more candy then you might think, so I’d go big on the filler. Like jelly beans. It was hard (for me, at least) to achieve a perfectly not-round-but-round shape, but they’re pretty forgiving. There’s something charming about lumpy punkins, right?

FrankenFaces. There are a million different ways to make these puddin cups and you just need a marker, Oreos and pudding (homemade, instant, store-bought–whatever you fancy). You pick the height of the cup, the color of the dye–or lack of dye–and the kids can have fun sketching Sharpie expressions.

And Monster Donuts! These are awesome for the ball field. You may have to open up the center with a biscuit cutter or round cookie cutter, depending on the size of the fangs you find.

Screen Shot 2013-10-06 at 10.38.06 PM — Disney Digression

Do you have a favorite easy peasy fall treat? I want to know.

Table Topic Tuesday. 10/1.

Happy new month! It’s good to welcome October with a Table Topic Tuesday.

Here’s the question:

I was such a finger-wagging, fussy old lady when it came to tattoos. I didn’t love them. I never wanted one. It’s ink in your skin. It’s ink that, one day, will have a showdown with gravity. And lose. But you can never say never.

I, prissy miss, have a tattoo and it has a story. You can read more about my Lucky Charm here.

And I bet you’re wondering if there are any tattooed Disney characters? I had to know. I found these two.

Captain Jack Sparrow. Disney Digression.

David Kawena (Nani's boyfriend in LILO & STITCH). Disney Digression II. — David Kawena (Nani’s boyfriend in LILO & STITCH).
Disney Digression II.

My friends weighed in, too.

Lindsay says:

I’ve already been branded. Just one. But I hear getting a tattoo it’s a lot like having a baby — in the heat of the moment, you swear to your stars you’ll never do it again. But once it’s over, you almost instantly forget the searing pain and broken fingers of your poor husband/friend who coached you through that horrific experience. And then you want to do it again. Since I’ve never had kids, I can only speculate. I wonder if we could get the Duggar mom to weigh in? I’m off topic. Tattoos. I would get another. I proposed matching tattoos to my sister — the sister who swore would never get one. That was, until I gave her my thoughts on ink #2. Walt Disney World holds a pretty special place in our hearts — special like running, the inspiration for my first tattoo. If and when I get another {whether my big sis is on board or not}, I would get the longitude and latitude coordinates of Cinderella’s Castle probably somewhere on my hand/finger. Somewhere I can always see them to remind me that magic is alive and dreams are reality.

And my other Lindsey says:

Well that’s an easy one. I have 4. I must say I swore I would stop at one but they are addicting. All four are different but they all incorporate a heart in some way. The first was inspired by a henna tattoo of a heart I got at the Morocco pavilion in Epcot. It’s a “tramp stamp” but way before wedding crashers made the term popular. My second one is a lukenbooth on my hip. Think claddaugh ring without the hands. The crown and heart stand for love and loyalty. I think those are main foundations in life. Third one came with my mom and my sister – though it took some serious convincing for Mindy. I’m sure she will tell this story better than me. My fourth one is a cross on my wrist. I kinda want another one – most likely the name and number of my favorite bible verse, but we will see – I’m running out of places where they have can remain covered – and I have to be somewhat conservative with my job.

And Javier says:

Been there. Wrote that. Read his take right here.

What about you? If you have a tattoo, I want the story. If not, would you ever get one?

Thursday Thanks. Helping #14.

Thursday was tip-toeing away from me and I was going to skip this post.

But I can’t ditch my Thanksgiving Chair. Not this week.

This week, I’m thankful for good news.

And for The Good News.

I’m grateful for a handy hubby, who can fix an oven all by himself (although, not gonna lie, I was kinda hoping for a new one. Oven, not hubby).

I’m thankful for truffle popcorn, gingerbread cookies and American honey.

I’m grateful that Tucker and I can finally be civil/laugh a little/almost enjoy getting through his spelling word sentences.

And, this week, I’m grateful for the skinny minutes that right-size you, when the universe puts you in your place. Have you ever been still in a moment where you felt appropriately small and, even so, you knew you were a worthy piece of the puzzle? A stitch in the pattern? I felt like that today.

Insta cliche, I know, but I couldn't resist the cloud carpet. — Insta cliche, I know, but I couldn’t resist the cloud carpet.

And how could I not be uber grateful for a sunrise on freedom?

Your turn. What are you thankful for today?

Table Topic Tuesday. 9/24.

Hi, y’all. Another Tuesday, another Table Topic.

Here’s the question:

I’ve lived near both. I’ve lived in South Carolina’s upstate, near the foothills of the Blue Ridge, where you can breathe in the fresh breath of four distinct seasons. I’ve lived in South Carolina’s low country, where rivers and estuaries weave through salt marshes to the Atlantic and the air is thick enough to slice. Now, the gulf coast is home. The sand is a white welcome mat, humidity has its own zip code, there are four degrees of summer. And I love it.

See, the mountains are dignified old souls, a great escape. But they’re a little aloof, reclusive, lonely, even? And freakin cold. They don’t really speak to the E in me. The beach is wide-open, never-ending summer. One giant, sunny possibility with no end in sight. And there’s the water, a pretty rad perk for a Pisces.

I pick the beach–unless you count the three mountains of the Magic Kingdom.

Big Thunder Mountain — Disney Digression

These beautiful bloggers weighed in, too.

Javi says:

Is this even a choice? The beach. Are you kidding? Who doesn’t want to live on the beach? Bears want to live at the beach. The only reason they don’t is because they think they are not in bathing suit ready. Bears have terrible self-esteem. It’s a fact.

In fact, my biggest problem with the mountain is the lack of beach. Besides that, they are quite pleasant. But the beach has SO MUCH BEACH! It’s like it is hoarding all the beach. Selfish beach. With all its beach. That’s why the mountains have to look down on the beach all the time. Because it is the only way the mountains can pretend to feel good about themselves, by trying to act like they are above the beach. And then by actually being above the beach. It’s all very complicated… but the balance of nature is all based on emotion.

Everything would be better if it had a beach. Hospitals. Dentist offices. The DMV. All totally manageable if there were a beach there. The only place that wouldn’t benefit from the beach is Walmart. For all that is good and holy please don’t think about what you would see at Walmart beach. You can’t unsee it. Quick! Try to wash the thought of Walmart beach from your mind. Don’t let your brain wander down that rabbit hole. Once you cross that line I can’t lead you back. No! NOOOOOO!!!!

Ashlie says:

This is the easiest question in the world for me…the beach hands down! Or toes down in the sand! I am a salt life kind of girl. I seriously think you can shake the sand from your shoes but not from your soul. The harmonious sound of crashing waves, the distant horizon meeting an endless sea of emerald and turquoise, the salty sweet smell of fresh ocean air, and the soft white sand squishing between my toes as my feet feel each lap of the waves…yes I’m a faithful beach bum. There is something about the beach that washes away worry and brings in a feeling of serenity. It truly is my paradise.

Lindsay says:

I’m pretty lucky. I’ve lived by some of the greatest beaches in the U.S. On a good day, it only takes me about 25 minutes until I’m toe-to-toe with Clearwater’s tide. And a six-month stint in Fort Lauderdale allowed me a two-mile bike ride before I hit ocean. But I’m a wanderer. My moving patterns mirror and surpass any modern day gypsy. I’ve always been told that change is a good thing, and life is the mountains — for even just a while — has always been on my bucket list. I’ll report back with my final answer once I get out there.

My sister Lindsey says:

Beach – no question. While the mountains are pretty to look at, I can’t help but think cold weather – which I don’t do. I always equate the beach with vacation and relaxing- even if it’s a day trip. There is something soothing about the waves: the live version of my nephews’ sound/sleep machine. While the crisp air in the mountains is refreshing it will suffice as a once in a while visit.

Okay. You’re up. Mountains or beach?

Thursday Thanks. Helping #13.

Happy Thursday, y’all, from my Thanksgiving Chair.

Since it’s the last Thursday of the summer, I have to say that I’m thankful for this season in the sunshine state. We filled summer to the seams with fun: supper clubs, celebrations, sleepovers.

Now, we’re all in for baseball season–two boys, two sets of practices, two game schedules. It sqwunches those precious post-work to pre-bedtime hours even more. But I’m so grateful that Case isn’t stuck on the bleachers anymore. He finally has his own team, his own chance and real permission to enter the hallowed DUGOUT (boys are so weird).

This week, I’m also thankful that when there are no words–or words just won’t work–a hug or a smooch can say quite a lot.

What are you thankful for on this last Thursday of summer?

The smell of love

Do you have a favorite lotion?

Mine comes from the Hotel on Rivington. It’s fun-sized in its squat little sample container, clear, so you can see the baby-pink goodness inside. It’s the perfect weight for lotion lovers, velvety thick, and my skin drinks it quick like.

But the best part is its fragrance. It’s not too flowery, musky or sweet. It’s made from Indian fig extract. I’ve never met an Indian fig, but I love the way it smells—a full, exotic, jammy bloom.

The lotion is called LOVE. And I kind of love that. Because it does smell like what love can feel like. You know when it’s fresh and new and wakes you up to life? But the scent and softness linger, too, like a familiar comfort.

And it made me think. What does love smell like?

It smells like my mom’s from-scratch sketti sauce—the legit business that starts with minced onion and buttery garlic cloves, sautéing in gold oil. Ingredients are stirred in as it simmers on. And, like most things, the hours improve it.

Love’s smell is Vanilla Oatmeal suds in fine, blonde hair. The boys’ shampoo is one of my favorite smells. But when they’re in my lap, we’re reading a book and their brains are whirring, I swear that thoughts heat their heads and intensify that scent.

Or, in the early morning, when I sneak in to wake them up. Their warm heads, sweet-sweaty with sleep, smell like everything I feel.

It’s also my sissy’s car—years later, it’s still some parts new-car smell, some parts lawyerly, orderly and fun. It’s a best-buds road trip, a miles-of-music box.

It’s the musty (and is it chlorine?) smell of the Tampa airport after a late-night flight. I know. Ew. It’s not a great smell, but it’s distinct. It means I’m home.

Of course, it’s the warm whoosh of just-baked waffle cones that wafts onto Main Street USA from the Ice Cream Parlour. There have been reports of trickery—that they use smell-a-vents, pushing out a puff of heaven to lure you in. But I have intel that promises those valves have been closed for years. ‘Cause the real deal can call you to the mothership all on its own.

But love, my love, smells like the pillow on Jeff’s side of the bed. It’s not his cologne or deodorant. He’s been through a lot of flavors in the last 13 years. It’s the smell of his person, his skin. I inhale a chemical reaction. The smell of him calms my core.

What do you think? Am I wacko or does love have a smell?

Table Topic Tuesday. 9/17.

It’s already Table Topic Tuesday.

I went rogue this week and picked from the middle of the deck. Gasp! And the question is:

I’m Mindy–just Mindy. It’s not short for Melinda or anything else. And I am such a Mindy.

I have always felt like my name is one syllable shy of sophistication. And, at a low-talking 4 feet, eleven inches, I can use all the help I can get. If I were Eloise, say, I could rule the world. Or, at least the room. Eloise. Look at all those vowels. She has to be a storybook heroine. Quirky, poetic, amazing.

I love Clara, too. It’s my two-syllable exception. Maybe it’s the wishful ballerina in me. She just sounds so graceful. And tall.

And I coveted the name Felicity for a while, when the show was big. But there’s a lot of pressure when you’re named for an emotion or word that’s full of promise. Like this gal.

Ah, Belle.

Maybe Mindy is just right.

The girls weighed in, too.

My sister Lindsey says:

What’s in a name?

My name is one that was really popular in the early 80s – so there were a lot of other “Lindseys” in my classes- not a way to feel very unique. The various spellings are problematic with my name too: Lindsey, Lindsay, Lyndsey, Lindsy, and so on. I’ve mostly gotten used to constantly correcting people on the spelling. Though it was always kinda heartbreaking as a kid to go into one of those touristy shops where they put your name on everything only to find that Lindsey with an “a” was the only thing available.

I always thought having a unique name would be fun. Something recognizable so you only need the one – a la Madonna, Beyonce or Cher.

Since I’ve been Lindsey, or Lins for a little over 30 years now – it’s hard to imagine being anything else.

And Lindsay says:

I’ve often thought about this. I like my name — Lindsay — but it’s pretty common these days. Actually, can I tell you all a secret? A couple years ago I went on a solo shopping (more like browsing) trip to Anthropologie (swoon). I picked out a few things to try on and headed to the dressing room. A younger, trendier associate asked, “How many do you have?” I told her. She picked up a marker and stopped at a dressing room door, “And your name?” “Violet,” I told her. She wrote it on the door in purple script. I shut the door and started laughing. Why the heck did I do that? I didn’t end up buying anything that day. But I left with an overwhelming sureness that we can be anyone we want in this life. I felt a little indie. A little artsy. A little punk. A little sassy. A little sweet and a little bit classy. I like it. I’d definitely be a Violet.

Have you ever wished for another name? I want to hear it.

Thursday Thanks. Helping #12.

Today, before I hop into my Thanksgiving Chair, I have a confession.

I’ve been cheating on summer.

I know fall is not officially here until 9/22, but he smells so, so good. I was seduced by Pumpkin Spice. And, for weeks, I’ve been burning fall candles like it’s my J.O.B. As if I could pump enough pumpkin into the world to will cooler breezes and scarves to flutter. We already have Halloween costumes, weekend plans and a candle supply that’ll last to Thanksgiving and beyond. And I’m grateful for the fun ahead.

I’m also grateful for a cut-from-the-same-cloth sister and friends—women who are in touch with their inner silly, ladies who lunch wearing feathers, six grown goobers who will cram into a red telephone booth with you just to see if you can (p.s. You Can. In 13 seconds flat).

I hope everyone has a friend who knows you’re a weird, hot mess and loves you more for it. Here’s an honorable mention for Norwegian pastries, Italian waiters, British Rock cover bands (and their choreography).

I am always thankful for bedtime with the boys. Tucker’s prayers are long, mostly because he’s a stealthy staller. But just when I’m nudging him to wrap it up, he’ll say something to make me laugh. “Thank you for my Daddy who thinks Mommy’s potatoes are awesome.”

And Case, who is so attached to his thumb, after years of us encouraging him to lose it, says, while I’m singing Baby Mine off-key, “I have to suck my thumb when you sing that song to me.”

What can I say to that? Nothing but thanks.

What are you thankful for today?

Table Topic Tuesday. 9/10.

It’s already Table Topic Tuesday. I’m pumped because I have a few new voices on the panel this week.

And here’s the question:

I am a Pisces.

Mermaids are fish, right? Pisces are. Twin fish. There is a duality to us Pisces–a yin and yang. Supposedly, we alternate between the conscious and unconscious, awake and dreaming, reality and fantasy. Guilty as charged.

It’s a water sign and, in my rosy conceptions of myself, I would say that I have a fluid personality. I go with the flow, I mold to the situation and conform to the room I’m currently swimming in. Some may say this shape-shifting is shifty and slippery. I like to think I’m flexible? Or a fickle little fish.

Pisces are feelers–emotion is everything. They want to wallow in their own feelings and yours, too. They are givers, gentle, gullible givers, easily taken advantage of. Spiritual, impressionable, artistic.

And, if I believed in this stuff, I’d be the Pisces Poster Child.

My friends played along, too. Meet Ashlie, a fellow Piscean and one of my bestest friends. She says:

Ahhhh….Pisces. Fishes swimming in a circle…so sensitive, so intuitive, so INDECISIVE I can barley reign my thoughts in to figure out which qualities I have and to what degree. I have always enjoyed saying I’m a Pisces, and I believe in astrology to at least some degree. Of course it is in my astrological nature to believe in such things. I like to believe that I, as Pisces tend to, “See all others as being one and connected to each other regardless of race, culture, or sex.” It is this that is said to be the reason why Pisces may be “psychic, spiritual, and compassionate.” Now that sounds nice. I hope that I have those qualities. But these qualities are also those of my demise. Being able to see all sides of a person or situation can make it virtually impossible to really ever DECIDE on something because I can talk myself into circles (insert Pisces fishes chasing their tails) about almost any situation. See how I had to even say “almost any?” I have to leave a loophole because I can almost never say YES or NO. Ahhh…Pisces.

Lindsay says:

I’m a Libra. A scale. A lover of natural beauty and the promoter of peace and tranquility. HA. I just made that up. I don’t know anything about my astrological sign. It sounds like a bunch of Scientology hocus pocus to me. But knowing what I know (read: my sign is a scale), I’d say I’m a pretty balanced person. I work hard at the balance of work and life — never letting one get heavier or more dominant than the other. It’s something I’m still getting used to in the post-college life and something I think I’ll always be working on. Thing have been going pretty well so far. My stars must be aligned.

Now meet my favorite sister, Lindsey. She’s a Pisces, too, but we could not be more different. (Minus our small obsession with The Happiest Place on Earth–the place where dreams come true. Maybe we are true Pisces.) She says:

I must admit I’m not sure what the characteristics of my astrological sign (Pisces) are – so I did a little recon. I’m not one to believe that the stars or signs have much to do with personality – mainly because your sign can change depending on the calendar of origin you’re referring to (tropical astrology Pisces feb 19 – march 20 which includes me and sidereal astrology pisces march 15 – april 14 which does not include me). Per the ever reliable source, Wikipedia, pisceans are perceptive, emotional and reasonable. Also highly sensitive, desperately afraid of ridicule and susceptible to change (as Pisces is a mutable sign). As it stands, I think being emotional and reasonable are difficult to achieve simultaneously. Highly sensitive and desperately afraid of ridicule? That sounds like most women. I decided to check another source and found Pisces strength keywords: compassionate, adaptable, accepting, devoted and imaginative. Weakness keywords: over sensitive, indecisive, self pitying, lazy and escapist. Again, it seems counter intuitive to be both adaptable and indecisive or devoted and lazy. Suffice to say I think a few key words from any sign could probably fit most personalities. Perhaps a better indicator would be birth order. Now that description of me (middle child) is always textbook.

Lynda says:

If ever a Table Topic question was designed just for me, this would be it. I’m fascinated by astrological signs. Well, I guess that’s not completely true. I’m completely fascinated with my astrological sign, and I suppose it’s because I identify with it so much. Every quality it lists is a quality I feel I possess and demonstrate on a regular basis. Whomever determined the traits of this particular zodiac sign must’ve had me in mind…and I truly believe that (even though I know these were created way before I graced this Earth with my presence).

I’m sensitive. I’m moody. I’m totally vulnerable. I have a hard outer shell and a hard time showing my true feelings to others. Once I put my trust in you and let you in, I’m loyal to a fault, but as soon as I feel betrayed or hurt, I shut down or retreat back into myself and I don’t soon forget. I love my home. I love being in my home. I am somewhat introverted even though I do enjoy people. My home is my safe place, and I could spend hours there by myself and be totally fine with that. Would love that actually. There’s no better weekend plan than rejuvenating at home without entering the outside world.

And while I put a lot of faith and trust in the power of the zodiac, I take daily horoscopes rather lightly. I find myself not reading them until the day is done just to see how true or correct they turned out to be. Nine times out of 10 they fail miserably, but I like to take the positive, general messages from them to build me up and keep me moving forward. It’s a light-hearted way to end the day, and with an extra emotional and sensitive gal like myself, I need all the positive reinforcement I can get.

What about you? What’s your sign?