Fancy Pants

I have a brother in law who's a piano player.  No, seriously...a fancy pants piano player.  I realize the technical term is 'classical performer' or 'classical pianist'.  He is that too, for sure.  But mostly I like to call him a fancy pants piano player.  He just had a really fancy pants performance last night at the school where he teaches in the Twin Cities.  It's a very well known and respected school of music.   It was one of those 'gala' type events....full of pretty people, pretty clothes and lovely music.  Rockstar and I were all set to go and then we had car trouble.  HUGE BUMMER!  I know we'll get other chances to see and hear Fancy Pants play, but still...it was disappointing. 

My Rockstar Hubby is the older brother of Fancy Pants, and the music gene decided to skip over him and land on Fancy Pants.  Sometimes I find it funny that they're even brothers.  Well, there's actually three brothers.  Fabio, the oldest.  (I call him Fabio because he's been in the entertainment industry for a long time and has acted in TV, commercials, film etc)  He's not cheesy at all like Fabio .....I just think it's funny.  Don't you? The music gene did land on him too.  Not in the same ways maybe, but he definitely got a good dose of it.   So Fabio is the oldest brother, then my Rockstar Hubby, and the baby brother is Fancy Pants.  (there are 2 sisters in the mingle...Mitzy and Muffy) but more on them another time.

Growing up on the farm Rockstar remembers many, many hours of piano being practiced in the dining room of their home.  When I say many hours, I mean MANY.  Fancy Pants was only 11 when Rockstar and I started dating, but even then he was pretty focused.  It was just a normal thing to talk above the piano, listen to the TV with the volume blaring, and take the phone into the bathroom when it rang so you could hear. 

Someone wrote on Fancy Pant's facebook wall this morning about his performance last night.  (Lots of people did...stellar reviews)  She commented on how her 4th grade piano recital kept coming to mind...how her skirt was stuck in her tights....FUNNY!!  Got me thinking of my piano recital days too.  The one time I got a piece of candy cane stuck in my tooth right before I was to play 'Dance of the Christmas Elves'. The whole time I played I could hardly concentrate as my tongue kept trying to dislodge the big piece of peppermint in my tooth.  I remember sweaty palms, the nervousness of knowing everyone was watching you.  How my fingers would feel kind of stiff and cold....like I couldn't move them to play the song.  I'll bet a million dollars Fancy Pants did not have cold, stiff fingers, and that he did NOT have a candy cane before his performance...although I do have it on record that he diligently makes sure his fly is zipped before walking on stage.  Good strategy.

I took piano lessons for 10, maybe 12 years.  My youngest daughter is taking lessons now that we finally have a piano in our home.  I'm glad my parents gave me the opportunity to learn.  I'm thinking I might even want to take a refresher lesson or two...I think I'd enjoy playing for fun every now and again.  I'll never be Fancy Pants...that's for sure...but I'll also never have to worry about getting my skirt stuck in my tights, and I won't chew on a candy cane before I play. I might check my fly though.  Seriously that's good thinking. 

Which answer do you want?

People often ask me the usual question?  "So, do you work outside your home?"  I have a few different answers depending on who's asking and how much time we have for conversation. 

ANSWER 1:  "Yes, I'm a PCA for a great little boy a few hours a week at his school."

ANSWER 2: "Yes I'm a PCA for a great little boy a few hours a week at his school, I also have my real estate license, but since we feel like we need to homeschool for a while I'm not doing as much with that right now."  ( this answer usually generates more questions, which I don't mind at all)  But if I'm racing to get home to make that gourmet supper for my family (said with sarcasm)  I might not be able to get into it.

ANSWER 3:  "Yes, I do a few different things.  We homeschool right now, so I try to keep my schedule flexible for that.  But I'm a PCA for a great little boy a few hours a week,  I have a real estate license that I keep current,  I do some painting on the side when it arises,  (I had my own business doing that before we moved) and I also help run our family's company Grandma Myrtle's Specialty Foods & Gifts."

As you can guess, ANSWER 3 is the 'sit down for coffee' answer....or the answer you can give if you're waiting in grocery cart gridlock because the lady at the check out can't find the pricetag on a 99cent pair of socks...so we're all waiting for management to come and do that magic thing with her key at the register.  You know what I mean right?  I think I'll blog about that one day.  It deserves a whole post of it's own.  But, back to the here and now.

I've shared with you about our homeschool journey....not too much on real estate, cuz there's not much to tell right now.  Refer back to ANSWER 2.  But Grandma Myrtle's gets their attention.  And if people really want to know about it I love to talk with them.  It's something very close to my heart and my husband's heart too...in fact the whole family would call Grandma Myrtle's something very dear.  Something that holds such great promise!

Grandma Myrtle's Gift Basket

Even though I haven't spent a lot of time talking about Grandma Myrtle's on my blog, I may end up doing so more often in the future.  Partly because as time goes by I'll become more busy with this adventure.  And partly because I believe that Grandma Myrtle's has the potential to be a household name one day!   So if you want to know more about our family's company there is a link to our website on the homepage.  You can see our products that we currently offer and learn more about who we are.  If you want to know the story from my perspective....a longer,  more personal version, I've created a tab on the top of the homepage... A Family Dream.  And lastly, if you really couldn't give a flyin' rip about it that's fine too!  See we all can have ANSWERS 1, 2, and 3. 

I love hearing comments from you here and on Facebook.  Thanks for taking time to read and may you enjoy today...and may you also not get stuck behind the 99 cent sock lady.  

Someone has to be bossy

I think I'm bossy.  I try not to be...but in reality the buck stops with me...on so many levels, and usually by necessity. Examples: Laundry (washed, dried, folded and put away) right there...that's 4 bucks.   Clean toilets, clean floors, clean sheets, clean teeth, buck...buck...buck...buck...buck.  "Be respectful to your sister." "Don't take that tone with me." "No you cannot drive your friends today."  "Yes, we can talk about that issue later"  "Yes, you have to take out the garbage and clean your room before basketball."  Buck...buck...buck...buck..  Don't get me started on homeschooling.  Lotsa bucks.  I should be a millionaire.  So I said at the beginning of this that I feel bossy.  It's this 'thing' that I don't like.  The balancing act of being firm but not a dictator.  Who wants to live with Stalin?  And yet every now and then I need to use my mean voice to avoid catastrophic household meltdown.   (My mean voice is something my brother in law told me about) He lived with us for a time...and apparently is a witness to this vocal technique of mine.

I'm a firstborn.  I display many classic firstborn traits.  Independent. Little bit type A.  Little bit of a perfectionist.  Little bit wanting things my own way.  I say 'little bit' because I have mellowed out since my 'Mom Junior' days.  Mom Junior you ask?  Yes.  I have two brothers, 5 and 8 years younger than me and Mom Junior was the pet name they lovingly called me.  (Ok, so the lovingly part is probably part of my selective memory)  I'm pretty sure they called me other names when I was out of ear shot.  And I'm also pretty sure that lovingly didn't show up for those either.

But listen, you can't really blame me.  I mean, how would you react if your parents looked your two little brothers in the eyes and intently said "While we are gone tonight, your sister is in charge, so you need to listen to her."  I don't know about you, but just remembering this makes me giddy with the feeling of power...and a little evil laugh wants to escape my throat.  C'mon people don't judge!  You know that little bit of Stalin in everyone wants to come out and play.  Ok, Stalin is really too terrible of an idea, so think Simon Cowell instead. 

So the buck started stopping with me at a young age.  In some ways it's prepared me well for all the buck stopping I need to do on a daily basis.  Although I'm not sure my brothers would agree that waiting on me hand and foot was really necessary for my future well being.  They also might take issue with me ordering them around like little soldiers, doing my bidding just for the sake of doing my bidding.  (You may be wondering if we're on speaking terms, the brothers and me...)  Yes we are!  In fact we get along famously well!!  I think it's all 'bossy sister water under the bridge' now.  I'm never invited to their family gatherings and their children don't know Aunt Jen, but I'm pretty sure we're on good terms. 

So the whole Mom Junior issue aside...maybe I'm not that bossy. Maybe I just have a normal life with normal issues.  Normal kids, who need supervision, guidance,  and love.  A husband who also manages lots of his own bucks and does a fabulous job by the way.   Maybe I too, am  just a regular woman with a lot of bucks.  It's too bad more of them aren't the green paper kind. The Benjamins. That might be kind of fun to experience for a while.   I wouldn't even use my mean voice if they wanted to stop with me. 

Backseats & Burritos

I've been gone...not  for very long...just a short overnight roadtrip with my parents.  In some ways it reminded me of the trips we'd take as a family growing up.  My two younger brothers and I in the backseat.  One memorable time we drove from MN to WA in a Dodge Omni!  Anyone remember those?  I laugh now thinking about how we'd take turns in the hatchback where we could 'stretch' out.  If it was the right time of day it was the best spot in the whole car.  If it was when the sun beat down through the window, well then it was more like being a burrito in a microwave.  Of course being the eldest, and the 'bossy sister'  (what good is a birthright if not to avoid baking in the hatchback) I made sure one of my brothers was always the designated burrito.  And believe me they smelled like one too after being back there for a few hours. 

This road trip with my parents wasn't in an Omni thank goodness.  We weren't  pulling a royal blue trailer full of  luggage and a cooler of  Grape Shasta and sandwhiches.  We were comfortable in the Grand Caravan, drinks in the cupholders, the temperature a perfect 70 degrees. Tinted windows to keep us from microwaving. We've come a long way baby.  For some reason though, when you go somewhere with your parents you are the child again no matter if you're 42, have 3 kids of your own and buy your own Shasta. 

PROS & CONS OF AN ADULT ROAD TRIP WITH YOUR PARENTS:

CON: You need to pee more often when your'e 42.
PRO: Your dad will stop and let you pee when you tell him you need to.
CON: You have to buy your own chicken sandwhich at McDonald's.
PRO: Your parents treat you to a really, really nice dinner out. 
CON: You can't pick the bed by the window in the hotel room.  Dad wants that one.
PRO: Dad & Mom pay for the room.  Score!!
CON: I can't climb in the middle of their bed if I get scared in the night.
PRO: Thank goodness I don't get scared in the middle of the night.
CON: You are still relegated to the backseat.
PRO: You get to be the backseat driver because you are the one who knows their way around.  And the backseat isn't so bad anymore since the brothers and burritos are a non issue.
CON: While dad is working at the trade show, you are at the mercy of your mother,  who wants to shop, but doesn't want to drive. (that's why you've been asked along on this trip by the way)  So any agenda of your own is out the window.  You are daughter chauffer.
PRO: You love shopping with your mother...and you love driving in the 'big city' so it's not such a big sacrifice.  And you're not driving the Omni. (and mom buys you lunch...and a coffee, and tells you what a good driver you are)

See, so even the cons in this really aren't cons. It was a fun time... my parents are pretty hip for old people.  I'm thankful that they would ask their daughter to join them on a roadtrip. (after that old people crack I might not be invited again however...or even asked home for Christmas)  But I doubt it...I know they remember the Omni days too...so I know I'm the favorite child...I'm the one who always smelled least like a burrito.  See, my birthright has not gone to waste.

The One True Valentine

He loves me....He loves me not...He loves me...He loves me not.... I don't know about you but somehow that little game always made me a bit anxious.  Granted, when I was ten years old I didn't really have a "he" in my life to love me or not...except my dad, and well, that was a given. Thankfully I grew up secure in my father's love.  But as I got older and started dating, and eventually got married, that game took on a little more meaning.  I know what your'e thinking..."Jen, it's just a daisy."  Of course I know that, but I hated ending with "he loves me not" on that last darn petal.  So I'd cheat. I'm not ashamed to say it.  I'm a daisy petal cheater.  I'd pull two petals off at the same time so I'd end up with "he loves me" at the end.  And even though I knew I'd cheated, I didn't care.  I had won the game...he loved me.

After being married for 22 years I can now say it wouldn't bother me in the least to end on a "he loves me not" petal. There is no daisy on the planet that could convince me of that.  Just like my dad when I was little, I'm so very thankful that I'm secure in my husband's love for me.  He's seen the darkest, ugliest, meanest, nastiest parts of me (more than once) but he hasn't ever  said "I love you not." He is only human, so I'm sure he's had a few not so nice thoughts over the years however.   I'm fully aware of what a blessing it is to have that in a marriage.  I'm also fully aware of the deep hurt and devastation people go through when the last daisy petal is not good news. 

If you've played the daisy game in life and have been burned by the "he loves me not" petal, there is still good news for you.  Really, it's the best news of all.  There is a God who loves you...always.  He doesn't even know how to "love you not." 

Romans 8: 38-39 For I am persuaded that neither life, nor death, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

This is the ultimate Valentine.  Not even the darkest, ugliest, meanest, nastiest parts of ourselves will cause God to "love us not".  He  sent his very Son so that we could be forgiven and restored to Himself.  If you've had people fail you, if you've had people hurt you, I encourage you on this Valentines Day to run to the One who will never fail you, the One who's heart longs for you.  You might not be able to say that you've felt secure in your dad's love....you might not be able to say that your spouse has always loved you unconditionally.  Maybe you've walked through some dark valleys of rejection that have caused you to build walls so that no one can access your heart and hurt you again.  There is good news for you today...you have a heavenly Father in who's love you can be secure.  He wants your heart, and if you allow Him to have it, you'll never regret it. He's the ultimate expression of love.   You don't need a daisy to know where you stand with Him...He doesn't play that game.  He's the One true Valentine..."He loves you"...with an everlasting love.

Favorite Fridays

I love Friday nights.  The moment Rockstar walks in the door we're on!  Fridays usually mean something fun with my family. (followed by a hot date of course) Right now we are in the middle of basketball season and two of our three kids play, so that means lots of small town gyms. Towns with names like Ashby, Battle Lake, Underwood and Rothsay.  They are all a little different and yet all the same somehow with their smells of popcorn, hotdogs, sweat and glue. When we moved back to our home town after living in a large metro area for over 13 years it was an adjustment.  There are both great reasons (Starbucks)  for living somewhere, and some not so great ones (rush hour) I guess.  But overall we've loved the change.  It 'feels' right to be here.  We've even found really really good coffee and now instead of rush hour we get stuck in the occasional 6 car gridlock while waiting for the town geese to cross the road.



My parents...'Grammie & Papa' with Gracie at one of her recent games

Of course there are days when I wonder what in the world I'm doing back here?  Back here, where many times our Friday night dates end up at Fleet Farm.  Sometimes I long to go into the City to the theater.  (ok who am I kidding...we didn't do that when we lived in the City)  But now that we don't live there I wish we would've done that more often.  Thankfully our 'little city' does have some really talented people who dance, act,  and play beautiful music.  We get to enjoy their gifts without having to pay for parking.  That way we always have enough cash for our run to Fleet Farm afterwards.  Nobody even wonders why we're all dressed up  just to buy windshield wiper fluid.  Yep, that's a Friday night for ya around here.... the nights that I've grown to love, goose poop and all. 

It's in the genes

Is this genetic? 'Boxing out' in the kitchen I mean.  Seems like there is most definitely a boxing out gene in our house.   Sorry these pictures are kind of blurry, but when your'e trying to catch the gene in action it's quite difficult.  I'm certainly no sissy, prissy kind of girl...I grew up with two younger brothers and a neighborhood FULL of boys.  But I can honestly say I never really feel like boxing out in my kitchen.  Nope. Never.  Seriously...look at this scene closely....there is some mayo on the counter and a large vat of Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ sauce.  (We have a big love of sauces)  So obviously there was some sandwhich making going on.  Then....what?.... suddenly....."Hey this turkey makes me want to box out?"  

UH OH....now the "wrestler gene" is making its' appearance.  See how they started close to the counter, but now we have serious hip checking, deep knee bending and they're moving down the hallway.  I did not follow them down there.  You'd have to be nuts to go after two males with high levels of wrestler gene pumping in their veins into a narrow hallway.  You may not make it out.  I stayed back in the safety of my kitchen, using the Baby Rays as a shield while yelling things like, "Hey boys...BOYS...!!'  "Whoa..hey watch the walls...the paint..." ... "Don't hurt your father he has to work tomorrow."  And just as quickly as it started, it's over.  Back to the kitchen to find the cheese and bread. 

After sandwhiches were consumed they were hanging out on the couch when I captured this moment.  I'm sure the ESPN gene was having it's full effect here.   There's nothing like some Sweet Baby Rays and Sports Center to mellow out my men.

But...no matter what their age, boys will always need to box out I guess...and wrestle.  I just wish it wasn't in my kitchen. 

My Godzilla Eye

Sorry if you're easily grossed out...cuz I realize this is kinda nasty.  But you have to admit sort of cool too in a weird horror movie way.  Some of my friends have dared me to post this on Facebook as my profile picture.  I will refrain from that...but thought I should show off this mysterious wonder on my blog.  Aren't you happy you joined me today? 

I just got back from the clinic to be sure Godzilla eye wasn't anything more menacing than a broken blood vessel.  And thankfully it wasn't.  So weird.  I have no idea how it happened...apparently these things just 'pop' every now and again. Too bad mine popped right during a Women's retreat I spoke at this past weekend.  Made for "colorful" conversation though. We've had a great homeschool lesson on "subconjunctival hemorrhages" today.  (although my 13 year old won't look at me)  It might have something to do with the fact that when she does,  I pop my eyes open really wide and start growling and chasing her around. (hence the name Godzilla)  I'm sorry but I CAN'T resist!!!  I mean how often do you get to look like a freak show?  Don't answer that.  I also look a lot like the pictures on the Mayo Clinic website.  I could have been a Godzilla Mayo Clinic Subconjunctival Hemorrhage Eye Model.   Wow!  Kate Moss, eat your heart out!!  GRRRRRR!!!

Home- learnin' aint too bad

Our son Dboy who is 16 and a sophmore this year likes to tell people that he's "home-learned" by his mama when asked about school.  He also says it in this really bad hillbilly type accent.  (can you hear the banjos in the background?)  He apparently has his father's sense of humor. 

We do have people ask us frequently why we've chosen to homeschool so I've made a really
short list and posted a few pictures that convey some of the reasons we homeschool.

Reason 1. 

 The heavy lifting power I now have at my disposal is priceless!  You can tell from the look on his face that he's so EXCITED to be our pack mule.  I know it's 'teaching' him all kinds of important life lessons.  (his dad is behind him with the cattle prod)

Reason 2.

Store bought bread is beneath us, and all kids need a good dose of Home Economics.  She has her own really cute orange apron so she feels special while doing the family baking.  (notice there is no cattle prod in this picture)  I'm standing just outside the frame with the whip.

 



Reason 3.

Well what did you think dishwashers were for?  PARENTS?  Ha!!  We start them on the dishwasher before they are weaned.  Rockstar and I figured that with three kids we'll have been able to avoid the dishwasher for about 28  years total.   When they all leave home we're just going to use paper plates and our fingers. 






So there you have it.  Our homeschool philosophy.  It's all about what's BEST for the KIDS.  If you want to know some other reasons why we homeschool I have posted a tab on the homepage.  It's not required reading, so there will be no testing.  (See I slip into that teacher mode real easily)  Well, I better get busy...I have to warm up that cattle prod...there's bread to be baked and some heavy hauling to be done.  Education is important. 

The 'not so' Superbowl

I like the Super Bowl as much as any good, red blooded American I suppose.  I look forward to the commercials, and eating my husband's chili cheese dip.   For a couple of years I watched the half time show with one eye closed after the epic wardrobe malfunction.  I was a little nervous that a new trend had started, and each year I'd  be getting a little more than I bargained for...and...well... truthfully I don't need to see any kind of 'malfunction' concerning Mick Jaeger,  Prince, or the Who.  Can anyone spell  T.R.A.U.M.A.T.I.Z.E. ? 

So this year it's the Packers vs. the Steelers, and being a true blue (purple) Vikings fan I am less than thrilled, and in fact feel like a traitor eating anything made with cheese on a day like today.  In reality I could probably watch the whole Superbowl with one eye closed for how much I dislike both of these teams.  The Cheeseheads especially.  We had leftover -old man -cheesehead posing as a QB this year, so there is the additional pain and humiliation associated with that along with the usual pain and humiliation associated with being a Viking fan.  Can anyone spell O.L.D. L.E.F.T.O.V.E.R.  C.H.E.E.S.E.  S.T.I.N.K.S. ? 

'So mom who do you want win the Superbowl ?' asks my 13 year old.  Ah, Um...well that's like asking which serial killer do you like better...Dahmer or Bundy?   Do you perfer blisters on the bottom of your feet or warts on your tongue?  Hilter or Stalin?   MaryKate or Ashley?  (ok that was mean, but I just needed to lighten the tone)  I guess what I'd like to see is Terry Bradshaw, Fran Tarkenton, and Bart Starr come back as a triple threat and lead the Vikings to victory.  I would most DEFINITELY watch that with both eyes open and even enjoy the smell of old cheese.

Words...words....

I'm speaking at a Women's retreat this weekend.  I've never done a full 3 day speaking engagement before so of course I'm processing carefully all that needs to be done.  When I tell people that I have to speak for 4 hours (total time in 3 days) and that I want to be sure I've prepared enough material,  I seem to get the same response.  Laughter.  Then a quick "Oh, my goodness you'll do just fine."  Just to be on the safe side I've asked a few people lately..."Hey, am I one of those blathering idiots that annoys the dickens out of everyone with incessant talking?"  Thankfully the consensus is no...even my husband reassures me I'm not "that" person.  Engaging people and hearing about their lives is one of my passions.  I so enjoy a good cup of coffee where I can get to know someone at a deeper level.  Did you notice I said I enjoy "HEARING" about their lives. I'm not just JENerally Speaking I'm also JENerally Listening too.  Having said that I do love to encourage with words.  Life is not pleasant for so many in one way or another.  A listening ear and  time, 'speaks' volumes to people more than words can sometimes.  I'm also a firm believer that if you enjoy the gift of gab....then use it ...and use it well.  Use your words to bless....use them to love people....use them to encourage and uplift.  It doesn't mean you can't ever disagree or have opposing opinions...but use your speech as a tool for bringing light into situations.  Words are powerful. By no means do I have this mastered.  I still say plenty of junk.  I still need the proverbial duct tape every now and then...or hey maybe the real stuff wouldn't be such a bad idea.  In closing...(see I'm prepping for my speaking this weekend) I happen to love this verse in  Proverbs 12:25 An anxious heart weighs a person down, but a kind word, cheers them up.  Pretty simple in my book...help a person who's heart is anxious.  Speak some kindness into their lives...and if you buy the coffee that's even better.  Who doesn't like nice words and a good cup of joe? 

Turn the channel!!!

I can't decide if the Food Network is good for me or not.  I find that I'm now obsessed with spices I never even knew how to pronounce just a few short years ago.  A simple chicken salad sandwhich is no more.  I mean I used to put chicken in a bowl, add Helmans, a little pickle juice, mustard, salt and pepper and we were good to go.  But now I have this...this COMPULSION!  Helmans...phhht are you kidding??   Pickle juice?? PUHLEAZE.  I want homemade dill spice mayo with some chopped Italian flat leaf parsley and a side of red pepper jam please. Steak on the grill ? Sure, as long as it's served with rosemary butter, and some baby red potatoes sauteed in scallions, and fresh garlic.

  I longingly look at the big chunks of parmigiano reggiano and pecorino and silently curse Giada Delaurentiis for ruining Velveeta for me.  Forever.  And have you seen the things Paula Deen has done with butter?  It makes me want to get my own cow and have my children churn the old fashioned way.  And while they are at it make me a batch of pecorino.  

I'm making it sound like I only will cook gourmet food now.  Hardly....I'm just more OBSESSED.  Don't even get me started on the cookie/cupcake/thing.  I already love to decorate them...but after watching some of those shows I feel the need (complusion)  to make a cake.  Not just any cake though.  A lifesize cake... of Cruella Deville and all 101 Dalmations. Perfectly frosted.  And if that's not enough I think it should be on a large motorized platform where all the puppies are barking and chasing each other. 

 See, I really don't know if Food Network is good for me.  Maybe I should start a support group.  "Hi, my name is Jennifer, I have a prejudice against plain mayo." Do you think it could work?  I don't know.....we'd have to be really, really careful that no one brings homemade citrus scones (with extra butter)  for snack time.  Serious relapse.

Sweet Feet (NOT)

"It smells like feet in here!!"  My family is just used to me blurting this out.  That or other versions of the same phrase...."Gross, I smell feet."   "FEEEET"   "I smell feet again people!!" I'm not sure why I think I smell feet so often. Well, actually  no, I DO know why.... it could have something to do with the gym bag collection that gets left in the front entry.  This habit makes me so crazy I've been known to literally foam at the mouth and start things on fire with my death ray vision.  You know how weight lifters have those big veins that pop out of their arms, and necks...?  Yeah, well I'm pretty sure if you looked at my neck closely you'd think I was up for the Mrs. Schwarzenegger pageant.  When we were kids my brothers and I knew if moms' lower teeth showed ('the fangs') we had about 10 seconds until detonation.  When my kids see the neck vein, the foam, and the couch cushions smoldering....they know...."Uh oh. Mom smells feet!" Gross?  Yes.  Very gross.  We are big sports people around here...plus we have a family membership at the Y.  So gym bags, well, they are just part of life.  I have nothing against the bags.  In fact I love a blue Nike gym bag as much as some of my purses. (ok, that might be a stretch)   I just don't like said Nike bags in my entry.  Where they smell.  Like FEET!  I'm hoping that my children work harder at breaking this habit.  It's getting quite expensive to replace the couch cushions and my neck hurts.