A few months ago I noticed this little blonde strand that was peeking through my voluptuous brunette head of hair. I have thinner hair then that Barbie you shaved in kindergarten so voluptuous is not an honest statement but it's my blog and if I want voluptuous hair in my recollection so be it. I pull it and in that swift tug memories come flashing back to me of when I used to pull my dad's blonde hairs, only then the color used to describe these hairs was grey! "Stop it Summer! You don't have grey hair yet! it's just some random blonde hair that is growing and you've never noticed it before." (that's me talking to myself, it was out loud too) My mom always said my hair was sandy brown so it is completely feasible to believe that I have blonde strands here and there.
Earlier this week I find myself again stroking my long, voluptuous, sleek and satin brown locks (my blog, remember?) when there is another pesky blonde strand! This time I wedge myself as close as I can to the bathroom mirror and I begin what would appear to a mere stranger as a lice bug inspection. I have to get to the bottom of this hair color changing mystery! Could this be Vitiligo of the hair? Am I some medical oddity and the masses will label me a liar as my hair slowly changes from brown to blonde right before every one's eyes (I feel you MJ)?????
My fingers sweep through my scalp as I see another one and another one and another one. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE and they are not blonde...
Fondly ~ SumSum (or soon to be GramGram if I don't get to the hair dresser)
Thursday
Monday
Thursdays with Mamaw aka MeeMaw aka MeeMee
I have a severe case of the Mondays! Not to mention I am only wearing about 11 pieces of flair today! That's from a movie, I have a bad habit of that, sorry. I don't need to wear flair at my job but bet your ass if I did I would have well over the 37 pieces required because who doesn't want to cover themselves in flair??? Moving on...it's ADD and I suffer greatly...still moving.
Last Thursday I received a call from a 941 number which I am well aware is a Florida area code. I answer and I'm excited because I have plenty of people in Florida it could be and the suspense is killing me..."hello" silence "hello" click. It was a dirty prank caller. So much for that fun, who is calling me from Florida game. Sometime later my phone rings again and it's that same 941 number. Oh boy, am I going to lay into whoever is on the other line...."HELL - oooo?" See how I am already giving it to the person on the other line!?! They are in for it!!! Mysterious caller on the other end responds "Summer?" Now you need to say that with a southern drawl and your voice needs to elevate tone as you say it, you're trying it and you almost have it (my cousins know exactly how it sounds). Jesus, Mary and Joseph! It's my Mamaw aka MeeMaw aka MeeMee (depending on who you are & your age, this is what my family calls our Grandma). I'll stick to Mamaw (prononced ma'am + aw) for the purpose of this story.
I wasn't letting her off the hook, she totally hung up on me not less than 20 minutes ago. "Mamaw? Why are you pranking me?" I had to say this about 3 times and I still don't know if she understood what the hell I was talking about but finally I said, "you hung up on me when you first called???" She laughs, "Oh yeah, I had to use the bathroom and if I don't go when I have to...(trails off)" I explain I piss myself sometimes just with a cough or a sneeze, I didn't say piss...this is my Mamaw I'm talking to for goodness sakes I need to have some manners. So that began my 35 minute conversation with my Mamaw. I don't believe I have ever talked to my Mamaw on the phone for more than 2.5 minutes. I also don't believe I have ever been on the receiving end of a phone call. Our conversations have never ventured from the obligation birthday, mothers day, my parents said I needed to or else calls. However, I have her number saved now because I am going to call her every Thursday to get lost in her world.
In that 35 minute phone call my Mamaw hit on about every topic that you could possibly imagine and I will list most of them here after a quick snapshot of the woman who is known as Mamaw aka MeeMaw aka MeeMee. She has been married to the same guy for over 70 years (I don't know for sure but 70+ seems like a damn good guess). She has had 9 kids, who all have kids and those kids are having kids (that's a lot of damn people). She has been pregnant a total of 81 months in her lifetime and she is as big as a minute (that phrase means she is skinny meanwhile I've only had two kids and my gut looks like a sad, deflated balloon). She has buried 2 of her children and never should a parent have to do that, this topic is actually on my next meeting agenda with God, and she has not completely separated herself from the world because of it. She will be the first person to tell you you're thinner/fatter than the last time she saw you. She will wear head to toe burgundy and when you ask why she is all dressed up she will say verbatim, "this old thing". She will wrap herself up in a fleece blanket at an outdoor function while the temp teeters at 80 degrees. There is plenty more but I can't be here all day so let's get back to the conversation...
She tells me in 35 minutes:
~ My Papaw (yes, that is what we call our grandpa and no, it's not aka PeePaw or PeePee just plain Papaw for everyone) isn't ever home and at the time of our call he was murdering wild boars...this hits home for all of us hunting wives cuz guess what? Even when our husbands are in their 90's they will still find an excuse to get out of the house and away from us.
~ Her floor was as clean as a dance floor...I'm not sure the cleanliness of a dance floor but I take this as her floor is pretty clean, or not?
~ My Uncle Buddy is super clean and a very good boy...for all of my aunts and uncles that read this; better step up your game because looks like Buddy is in the numero uno spot
~ She made black eyed peas for dinner (I just like to dance to them) and spilled them all over the floor...guess who cleaned them up? #1 son Buddy
~ She offered Buddy dinner but he had a tuna sandwich in his car that he would eat at the ball game
~ Her best friend died and she got all of her clothes because her husband said it was what her BFF would have wanted
~ Every time she puts on an outfit now Papaw asks, "Was that your BFF's?"
~ One night dancing Papaw spun her too hard on her bad arm it made her throw up, Papaw offered no sympathy...see girls, some things never change
~ She is too old to dance anymore
~ She is not too old to still dance...she obviously forgot that she had said earlier she was too old to dance and as far as I'm concerned you are never too old to dance...
So Mamaw "I Hope You Dance" and I also hope you remember I'll be calling you this Thursday so get your bathroom break out of the way...
This is my Mamaw trying to escape a photo of her in a fleece blanket in 80 degree weather...I don't lie people!
Fondly ~ SumSum
Last Thursday I received a call from a 941 number which I am well aware is a Florida area code. I answer and I'm excited because I have plenty of people in Florida it could be and the suspense is killing me..."hello" silence "hello" click. It was a dirty prank caller. So much for that fun, who is calling me from Florida game. Sometime later my phone rings again and it's that same 941 number. Oh boy, am I going to lay into whoever is on the other line...."HELL - oooo?" See how I am already giving it to the person on the other line!?! They are in for it!!! Mysterious caller on the other end responds "Summer?" Now you need to say that with a southern drawl and your voice needs to elevate tone as you say it, you're trying it and you almost have it (my cousins know exactly how it sounds). Jesus, Mary and Joseph! It's my Mamaw aka MeeMaw aka MeeMee (depending on who you are & your age, this is what my family calls our Grandma). I'll stick to Mamaw (prononced ma'am + aw) for the purpose of this story.
I wasn't letting her off the hook, she totally hung up on me not less than 20 minutes ago. "Mamaw? Why are you pranking me?" I had to say this about 3 times and I still don't know if she understood what the hell I was talking about but finally I said, "you hung up on me when you first called???" She laughs, "Oh yeah, I had to use the bathroom and if I don't go when I have to...(trails off)" I explain I piss myself sometimes just with a cough or a sneeze, I didn't say piss...this is my Mamaw I'm talking to for goodness sakes I need to have some manners. So that began my 35 minute conversation with my Mamaw. I don't believe I have ever talked to my Mamaw on the phone for more than 2.5 minutes. I also don't believe I have ever been on the receiving end of a phone call. Our conversations have never ventured from the obligation birthday, mothers day, my parents said I needed to or else calls. However, I have her number saved now because I am going to call her every Thursday to get lost in her world.
In that 35 minute phone call my Mamaw hit on about every topic that you could possibly imagine and I will list most of them here after a quick snapshot of the woman who is known as Mamaw aka MeeMaw aka MeeMee. She has been married to the same guy for over 70 years (I don't know for sure but 70+ seems like a damn good guess). She has had 9 kids, who all have kids and those kids are having kids (that's a lot of damn people). She has been pregnant a total of 81 months in her lifetime and she is as big as a minute (that phrase means she is skinny meanwhile I've only had two kids and my gut looks like a sad, deflated balloon). She has buried 2 of her children and never should a parent have to do that, this topic is actually on my next meeting agenda with God, and she has not completely separated herself from the world because of it. She will be the first person to tell you you're thinner/fatter than the last time she saw you. She will wear head to toe burgundy and when you ask why she is all dressed up she will say verbatim, "this old thing". She will wrap herself up in a fleece blanket at an outdoor function while the temp teeters at 80 degrees. There is plenty more but I can't be here all day so let's get back to the conversation...
She tells me in 35 minutes:
~ My Papaw (yes, that is what we call our grandpa and no, it's not aka PeePaw or PeePee just plain Papaw for everyone) isn't ever home and at the time of our call he was murdering wild boars...this hits home for all of us hunting wives cuz guess what? Even when our husbands are in their 90's they will still find an excuse to get out of the house and away from us.
~ Her floor was as clean as a dance floor...I'm not sure the cleanliness of a dance floor but I take this as her floor is pretty clean, or not?
~ My Uncle Buddy is super clean and a very good boy...for all of my aunts and uncles that read this; better step up your game because looks like Buddy is in the numero uno spot
~ She made black eyed peas for dinner (I just like to dance to them) and spilled them all over the floor...guess who cleaned them up? #1 son Buddy
~ She offered Buddy dinner but he had a tuna sandwich in his car that he would eat at the ball game
~ Her best friend died and she got all of her clothes because her husband said it was what her BFF would have wanted
~ Every time she puts on an outfit now Papaw asks, "Was that your BFF's?"
~ One night dancing Papaw spun her too hard on her bad arm it made her throw up, Papaw offered no sympathy...see girls, some things never change
~ She is too old to dance anymore
~ She is not too old to still dance...she obviously forgot that she had said earlier she was too old to dance and as far as I'm concerned you are never too old to dance...
So Mamaw "I Hope You Dance" and I also hope you remember I'll be calling you this Thursday so get your bathroom break out of the way...
This is my Mamaw trying to escape a photo of her in a fleece blanket in 80 degree weather...I don't lie people!
Fondly ~ SumSum
Wednesday
Followed next by a check and a note...that last night was dope!
I have always known this about myself but it has truly become clear to me after my Friday night with John Mayer. Yes! John "racial slurring, motor boat loving, homo make out, possible drug addict if Jessica Simpson were coke" Mayer. I don't care what the dude says, he has become ridiculously sexy over the past couple years and I am quite certain his song, Your Body is a Wonderland was written for me and about me. Granted my 'Wonderland' resembles that of the Old Mine Ride at Cedar Point but a Wonderland just the same...anyway, I'm getting off topic.
My name is SumSum (Ms. SumSum if you're nasty) and I am a one night stand friend. Hi SumSum! Now don't get it twisted, I'm not sharing my precious taco of love with these strangers. I am merely giving them, for one night only, my friendship. It usually goes down like this...I begin chatting up some random person within the group but not part of the group or maybe just sitting near us. We laugh, we cry, we dance, at some point we hug (I'm a lover) and by the end of the night we have exchanged e-mail addresses, phone numbers and perhaps even requested facebook friends as well as made plans to hang out again and SOON! "Let's not just say it, let's really do it!" Direct quote made by me a million times!
The sad truth of the matter is I will never see nor speak to this person again. We won't meet for dinner or drinks, we won't hang out next weekend and we will never go on your annual summer canoe trip. We created a spark and for that one night we were friends, really great friends, with so much in common and such promise to truly become a BFF item but let's not tarnish our memories of each other by extending that friendship past that one night.
So, there you have it...I'm a whore for friendship!
Fondly ~ SumSum
One of my many one night stand friends, I don't even remember her name ~ Kid Rock 2009
My name is SumSum (Ms. SumSum if you're nasty) and I am a one night stand friend. Hi SumSum! Now don't get it twisted, I'm not sharing my precious taco of love with these strangers. I am merely giving them, for one night only, my friendship. It usually goes down like this...I begin chatting up some random person within the group but not part of the group or maybe just sitting near us. We laugh, we cry, we dance, at some point we hug (I'm a lover) and by the end of the night we have exchanged e-mail addresses, phone numbers and perhaps even requested facebook friends as well as made plans to hang out again and SOON! "Let's not just say it, let's really do it!" Direct quote made by me a million times!
The sad truth of the matter is I will never see nor speak to this person again. We won't meet for dinner or drinks, we won't hang out next weekend and we will never go on your annual summer canoe trip. We created a spark and for that one night we were friends, really great friends, with so much in common and such promise to truly become a BFF item but let's not tarnish our memories of each other by extending that friendship past that one night.
So, there you have it...I'm a whore for friendship!
Fondly ~ SumSum
One of my many one night stand friends, I don't even remember her name ~ Kid Rock 2009
Thursday
Xanex? Check!
I've been feeling a bit of anxiety regarding this follow up to my last post. I guess there are a large number of you still chuckling from my despair...how dare you! Might I remind each and every one of you that at one time you also pissed and shit your pants? Yeah, so soon you forget sitting and smelling so pretty in your glass house...Granted you probably haven't crapped yourself since the toddler years but you still did! Judge not lest ye be judged...
How about a 4 pound weight loss after my P&P (poop&puke) week from hell? Beat that suckas! I'm ready to throw on a pair of hot pants and a halter and grind on some douche bag with a blow out (just kidding Todd!). Thankfully everyone seems to be on the mend but it definitely worked its way in and out (not the burger joint) of the whole family. If I could have fit into a Pampers size 5 I would have been a lot better off, that's for sure.
So, here we are P&P free and heading into Valentine's Day 2010! I wish I could say that on that day I'll emerge from bed to the sweet smell of french toast with a Jane Seymour Open Heart Collection necklace placed around my neck and homemade cards lining the night table from all of my boys but that is why I began with "I wish". In fact, I'll eat a whole roll of paper towel if anything other than the following takes place...
Fondly ~ SumSum
How about a 4 pound weight loss after my P&P (poop&puke) week from hell? Beat that suckas! I'm ready to throw on a pair of hot pants and a halter and grind on some douche bag with a blow out (just kidding Todd!). Thankfully everyone seems to be on the mend but it definitely worked its way in and out (not the burger joint) of the whole family. If I could have fit into a Pampers size 5 I would have been a lot better off, that's for sure.
So, here we are P&P free and heading into Valentine's Day 2010! I wish I could say that on that day I'll emerge from bed to the sweet smell of french toast with a Jane Seymour Open Heart Collection necklace placed around my neck and homemade cards lining the night table from all of my boys but that is why I began with "I wish". In fact, I'll eat a whole roll of paper towel if anything other than the following takes place...
- 6am - Hudson starts wailing from his crib
- 6:05am - Todd and I are both still pretending to be sleeping to see which one is going to get out of bed and get Hudson
- 6:10am - still pretending to sleep
- 6:15am - I mutter, "you want to get him?", Todd sighs, I sigh, Hudson still crying
- 6:17am - I dramatically throw off the covers and stomp loudly through our bedroom and go get Hudson
- 6:19am - Try to lie down on the couch with Hudson and see if I can trick him into falling back to sleep
- 6:25am - wake up from that super refreshing 6 minutes of nodding (sarcasm people) and start the day
- 8:00am - Todd and Ryser come downstairs and I say "Happy Valentine's Day!"
- 8:01am - Todd gives me that "oh shit it's Valentine's Day" look
- 6pm - arrive home from work and flowers and a card is awaiting me.
Fondly ~ SumSum
Monday
My absence explained...
I am about to share what quite possibly could be one of the worst days ever. So, if you think you are having a bad day you can read this post and say to yourself, "nope, definitely not as bad of a day as SumSum had on February 3, 2010" because on that day...
I SHIT MY PANTS!
You are laughing and perhaps crying and you think I might be lying but unfortunately I am not! Here is exactly what went down or in my case out...
Huddy Bear went on a puking and crapping extravaganza the beginning of the week. I was naive to think that it was just something he ate and would be a simple 24 hour bug and we would move on with our lives. This is when I'm reminded that my life sucks and it was a full fledged stomach flu (special thanks to the flu shot that apparently does nothing). I make my sweet baby boy a doctor's appointment and we head off on that fateful winter day on February 3, 2010.
I grab a primo parking spot at the pediatricians office (YES!) and get out of the vehicle to remove my precious cargo when I let out what I perceived to be just a little toot. This is when I'm reminded AGAIN that my life sucks and that toot had a little something extra, it was a stage 5 shart (shit + fart for those who are unfamiliar with the term). OH NO!!! What am I going to do?? I have a sick child crapping and puking, who had not urinated all night long, I have a front row parking spot and a doctor's appointment in 0.2 seconds. So, I take off my coat and wrap it around my waist and hope for the best...the best being it has not seeped through my jeans. I walk into the doctor's office with what feels like a massive, hot pink neon sign over my head flashing "POOPY PANTS" and announce our arrival to the front desk gal.
I am sure I was walking like a person who had been horse back riding for 17 days prior to our doctor's appointment because in case you have forgotten, I have shit in my pants.
Huddy and I make a B-line for the very public, pediatrician's office restroom so I can assess the damage. I am removing my jeans - thank goodness, no liquid brown stain and then I remove my underpants (I would call them panties but let's be real, they are covered in diarrhea and there is no need for sexy undergarment terms at this juncture) and it looks as if small children have used them to strain out their sand castle mud pies. I just keep saying over and over to Huddy Bear, who at the same time I have been trying to prevent from touching anything in this restroom, that this is quite possibly the worst day ever. I take my, now brown, underpants and wrap them up with toilet paper as you would a maxi pad and throw them away. I severely wipe my bum raw with baby wipes, wash my hands in scalding hot water and then douse both myself and Huddy with anti-bacterial (and I guess I was hoping anti-shitting) lotion. I emerge from the restroom and now my hot pink neon sign is flashing "I'M NOT WEARING ANY UNDERWEAR" with a smaller sentence underneath "because I just shit in them".
So there I sat with my sweet, sick child who had truly no idea how disgusted he should be with me as I'm sweating bullets and clenching my butt cheeks together...worst day ever!
Fondly ~ SumSum
I SHIT MY PANTS!
You are laughing and perhaps crying and you think I might be lying but unfortunately I am not! Here is exactly what went down or in my case out...
Huddy Bear went on a puking and crapping extravaganza the beginning of the week. I was naive to think that it was just something he ate and would be a simple 24 hour bug and we would move on with our lives. This is when I'm reminded that my life sucks and it was a full fledged stomach flu (special thanks to the flu shot that apparently does nothing). I make my sweet baby boy a doctor's appointment and we head off on that fateful winter day on February 3, 2010.
I grab a primo parking spot at the pediatricians office (YES!) and get out of the vehicle to remove my precious cargo when I let out what I perceived to be just a little toot. This is when I'm reminded AGAIN that my life sucks and that toot had a little something extra, it was a stage 5 shart (shit + fart for those who are unfamiliar with the term). OH NO!!! What am I going to do?? I have a sick child crapping and puking, who had not urinated all night long, I have a front row parking spot and a doctor's appointment in 0.2 seconds. So, I take off my coat and wrap it around my waist and hope for the best...the best being it has not seeped through my jeans. I walk into the doctor's office with what feels like a massive, hot pink neon sign over my head flashing "POOPY PANTS" and announce our arrival to the front desk gal.
I am sure I was walking like a person who had been horse back riding for 17 days prior to our doctor's appointment because in case you have forgotten, I have shit in my pants.
Huddy and I make a B-line for the very public, pediatrician's office restroom so I can assess the damage. I am removing my jeans - thank goodness, no liquid brown stain and then I remove my underpants (I would call them panties but let's be real, they are covered in diarrhea and there is no need for sexy undergarment terms at this juncture) and it looks as if small children have used them to strain out their sand castle mud pies. I just keep saying over and over to Huddy Bear, who at the same time I have been trying to prevent from touching anything in this restroom, that this is quite possibly the worst day ever. I take my, now brown, underpants and wrap them up with toilet paper as you would a maxi pad and throw them away. I severely wipe my bum raw with baby wipes, wash my hands in scalding hot water and then douse both myself and Huddy with anti-bacterial (and I guess I was hoping anti-shitting) lotion. I emerge from the restroom and now my hot pink neon sign is flashing "I'M NOT WEARING ANY UNDERWEAR" with a smaller sentence underneath "because I just shit in them".
So there I sat with my sweet, sick child who had truly no idea how disgusted he should be with me as I'm sweating bullets and clenching my butt cheeks together...worst day ever!
Fondly ~ SumSum
Too easy...
Since the day I came into contact with WSKYGAL it seems that everywhere I look there is a vanity plate. I came across this one on my commute to work last week and I have been dying to write about it since...
Let me take you to the place I was when I came across this vehicle, obviously Square Lake and I-75 but I mean my mental place. It's around 8am or after since I'm chronically late to everything and I have been in the vehicle for over an hour. It's cold, it's raining and I'm pissed (this is usual for any weekday). Just at the moment where I usually start cussing because some nimrod is trying to cut in front of the long line of cars already going straight (the right lane ends and a lot of people miraculously forget that every day) I pull behind this vehicle.
The plate says FUNLOVN...you might think that what happened next is a song about everlasting love began playing on the radio and I started counting my blessings in life. That, my dear friend, is when I tell you we need to get together more because this took my already pissy mood to an all new level.
First off, you are driving a Chrysler Town & Country so I can pretty much say in all honesty there is nothing fun about your lovin'. In fact, I'm almost positive that any lovin' coming from the driver of this mini-van (let's be real and call it what it is) is strictly out of necessity to shut up her husband.
Second, this vehicle was packed with kids, JAM PACKED. So, if she were feeling fun or loving she has Dr. Feelgood on speed dial and I might need to meet her.
Third, if by some slim chance in hell this quack really is the fun loving bitch she states to be it's not necessary to advertise it. I don't want to read on your license plate that your life is awesome because I've been in my f'g car for over an hour and dropped my poor children off to be raised by someone else for the majority of the day and I need to pay my mortgage this week. Screw you and the Town & Country you rode in on...
Finally, I find happiness in believing that people who do have to advertise their happiness or update their facebook status on a daily basis about how great their life is in every way are truly messed up...so I am still better than them because I admit I am off my rocker and I'm taking my whole family along in my roller coaster of crazy. So in this pissing contest, I piss further and mine is more yellow (I need to drink more water).
Let's get real, embrace your psycho...
Fondly ~ SumSum
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