Need a moment of RAWR in your day? Try starting off in a philosophical mood. Just do it dinosaur style…
Need a moment of RAWR in your day? Try starting off in a philosophical mood. Just do it dinosaur style…
I love searching out those objects that bring a smile, a chuckle and hopefully a laugh to someone’s day. I’m terribly sarcastic and wholly inappropriate most days and only with the right people do I make any sense. Social interaction with anyone outside of my inner circle requires multiple mental filters. And yet, with all of this awesome creativity, even from the deepest depths of my comic self, I cannot come up with a good caption for this mug (that isn’t completely and wholly inappropriate).
This mug of Abraham Lincoln (yes, our former President Abraham Lincoln) riding a T-Rex is beyond words for me.
So maybe you have a better idea, dear reader, what’s your caption?
This is a tribute to the Supermom. It’s Thursday. I know you’re tired. You are probably tired to the “I just put the empty paper grocery bag in the refrigerator and didn’t even realize I did it until I went to make dinner hours later” level. And yet you soldier on. In the name of love, responsibility and with a touch of the human spirit of carrying on, your actions are not lost. Someday your children will be old and will realize just how hard this all was.
I know you’re battling lost socks, single socks, dishes, the rest of the laundry, yummies, errands, work, unfinished homework, dirty diapers and poop patrols, dental appointments, dank trash, dust balls and more. It’s like you have to be part ninja or maybe just part dinosaur to get it all done and still survive. Either way, you know you can’t stop. You know the insanity of it all, doing the same chores over and over and wishing for different result. And yet you soldier on.
So for you, the Supermom, here’s your MOMENT OF RAWR.
My neighborhood is in the beating heart of the coffee phenomenon. I am surrounded by caffeine addicts. They are everywhere. Before 9am it’s like the streets are overrun with zombies and only the children remain normal, happy and giggling. Standing in line at one of the thousands of coffee shops leaves you recounting the list of rules from Zombieland. Then, almost like magic, there’s actually HUMANS leaving the shop, not zombies! That coffee fix is a serious thing, not one to be messed with. My beloved coffee addicts have taught me that coffee comes before words.
I am the one in a million that doesn’t drink coffee. There’s something about it’s taste that just, well, isn’t my cup of tea. It’s mostly drinking it that repels me, but I’m not opposed to making it for my beloved coffee addicts. It’s taken a few years but I actually like making coffee now. It’s a great way to make easy friends… the zombies always smile at the person handing them a hot cup of java. It’s become an act of love.
In honor of my beloved coffee addicts, I’m starting the Mug Alert post. Now you can remind yourself and those you love to let out their inner RAWR, first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee done just right.
I Love Brunch.
I love brunch SO MUCH… it makes me rawr.
Literally, I, “RAAAWWRRR” out loud because I am THAT excited for brunch.
When all else fails for dinner, I could eat brunch (which is Brinner in my home). When we travel I always want to find a good brunch spot, sitting back, relaxing and reflecting on a good/crazy/busy/lazy time usually makes for a great day. Brunch is almost like my weekly meditation, a slow meal slows me down, helps me relax before another crazy week. It helps me find and remember my gratitude’s.
I love finding French Toast that is thick and eggy, frenched and toasted to “just right.” Thick slices are key. I especially love a Brioche French Toast. In Seattle I can count on Bastille to handle the french toast with respect.
I LUV finding waffles, the good ones anyway. I’m talking about the waffles that are thick and puffy, and round is always more fun. The most glorious waffle in all my years of searching was at Pomegranate. It was perfectly cooked to a soft and chewy inside with just enough crunch to satisfy and topped with house-made whipped cream and fresh summer berries. It was so good they haven’t ever repeated it, but they come close enough to still get my top spot.
I’m looking for the pancakes that give what’s on your plate the deserved name of “cake”, waiting to be devoured. Throw some fresh berries in the batter and you got pan-an-cakes in all their antioxidant-al glory. The summer outdoor patio is primo seating during the kinder weathered months and the Huckleberry pancakes are not to be missed at the Barking Frog.
I’m not above a quick sandwich either. Some mornings (or afternoons) I just don’t have the patience to sit and wait for brunch to come to me. Some mornings, the hangry ones anyway, direct me to the nearest goodness available. In Portland, that place is the Grand Central Bakery’s Cafe. I love brunch so much I already opined upon their biscuit-egg sandwiches previously, in The Only Biscuits Worth a RAWR.
We’ll leave eggs for another day. I love eggs, but that’s exactly why it’s a post for another day.
All this talk of brunch and yummies had me wondering…What type of dinosaur am I?
It seems everyone has their favorite brunch meal and almost everyone is different. Some friends love a good vegan or vegetarian meal. Some of my friends scoff at anything without bacon. Some of my friends can eat a little of everything. Me? I’m all about the nomnomnom.
Call me, the Omnomnomivore.
Today is a dreary Thursday. It’s raining. I suppose that should not be a surprise as I live near Seattle where it rains 366 days a year. Yes, 366 days a year, at least in my mind.
What I’ve always found interesting on observation, since I was a wee rex, was how many different modes of movement exist that enable rain to hit my head. And FYI, don’t use an umbrella around here. We all know you’re a tourist or an idiot. When the rain hits, you just buckle down and push through, like a woman birthing without drugs. Woman up and put your umbrella down, or the wind will do it for you.
Oh, Marie, rain is not THAT big of a deal, right?
I know it may not seem like an annoyance and worth getting all up-in-RAWRS about because there are a lot of places that would like a good rain once in awhile. I am very grateful for all the moisture we get. It is the reason we are the Evergreen state and one of the most lush, green places (west of the Cascades) with a Gen-u-ine Rain Forest. I love all the greenery, really, I do! It’s just hard to enjoy it when it feels like the sky is peeing on you all the time. To understand my relationship with rain, study the image below for a moment.
That is how I feel in the rain. So now I’m going to have my moment and wish for the sun and RAWR about how annoying rain can be.
The most Annoying types of Rain I’ve Observed:
The monsoon down pour where the 1.5 seconds it takes you to get to the car door has you and everyone and thing with you drenched to the core. That only happens a couple days a year here. (God bless those living in real monsoons.)
The spring shower, where you look up and see blue sky above you, and yet, somehow, it IS raining on your head. It’s also the third time today this has happened.
The unrelenting rain, where it’s a steady patter, a lighter droplet, enough wetness to cause the dogs to go on a bathroom strike which is too bad for them because it can last for HOURS and sometimes days. Usually the rain wins and the dogs give in. They feel like the lion too.
The mist, a gentle, all encompassing cloud of misty humidity that upon touching curly hair magically turns it into a ‘fro no matter what chemicals were used prior to exposure to said mist.
The sideways mist, a strange cloud of mist moving past you with a ghost-like appearance. It will stop you in your tracks with mesmerizing movements until the cloud of ballet makes sense, “Oh, it IS raining sideways!” Curly hair is no match for this mist either.
Too many encounters with the rain styles above and you may be left feeling like this…
So on this dreary day, join me in telling the weather to be kind. We all need a break sometime, or we may turn into dinosaurs and… well, you know.
It seems so obvious to me what my flaws are. They glare at me every time I’m faced with them. I don’t like them and don’t like it when those anxieties creep up into my daily awareness. Releasing that track of mean from it’s power is an on-going struggle, at least for now. So I appreciate when my perspective is shifted and those insecurities become visible and burn up in the light of my consciousness, at least for now. The next time I’m finding myself jealous of someone else’s circumstances, I’ll remember this poor Rex.
Ah, the days of Reese’s Pieces and ET phone home… Yup, those were the days, the 80’s. And eventually the wild-n-out RAWR of that decade morphed into the neon nineties. Somewhere in this mix of fashion adventure and extra terrestrials, an amazing shoe was born. It was over the top, the high top, to be exact. It was flashy. It was fahbyoulus. It was… the LA Gear Trainer.
Somehow (I can’t remember so it must be magic), I convinced my mom or my grandparents (again, I can’t remember, so maybe it was a wizard) to get me this pair of LA Gear High Tops, but in a crisp black and pink only (bottom right in image below). I will never forget the double laces and how supported my feet felt. I will always love the sassy touch of the side suede ribbing.
I do remember eeking out a small RAWR of excitement when I got my foot resting on the cushy sole, the double laces laced up, the velcro flap flipped over and velcroed down and the license plate flair promptly added to my key chain collection, I was ready to go. This is also when I discovered my power color. HOT PINK. And it made my wardrobe so much easier! Hot pink or Black leggings, check! Hot pink and black oversized sweatshirt, check! Hot pink or black scrunchie to complement my fountain bangs, CHECK!
So reminisce with me… In the spirit of the recent full moon, I’d like to share this handy mug. You can find it at Zazzle.com. Then, while you drink your coffee out of it, you can chuckle as you remember your early RAWRS.
Approaching a dangerous level of HANGRY this past week, Raul and I stopped in at a previously un-tested (by us) establishment aptly named Potbelly Sandwich Shop. I had a good feeling about this place. I’m not in Subway anymore.
Standing under the menu, trying to keep my mouth from gaping open and drooling, I carefully read through my options. Turkey is my go-to Beneficial meat so I order up.
With Mushrooms please.
The very nice lady behind the counter loads my sandwich into the oven where it ambles along the slow belt, toasting up under the heat. I’m too enthralled with my sandwich to look around. Quietly, Raul points out the T-Rex on their chalkboard cabinet.
A special lunch for someone who is REALLY HANGRY! RAAAWR!
Finally my sandwich is ready and I inhale it in three breaths. I was so HANGRY I forgot to snap a photo like my weird-self normally does, sorry! It was really good. Gooey cheese, turkey crisped at the edges, a nicely toasted bread and mushrooms.
As I’m cooling down from the HANGRY attack I finally look around the place and notice the fabulous job by the HVAC team. So clever!