Next stop, the Twilight Zone...

You are about to enter another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop: the Twilight Zone...

Chris and I once stayed on the 13th floor of a hotel in New York.

{pause to let that sentence sink in}

I'm not talking about staying on the floor they call the 14th but is really the 13th. I mean when we got onto the elevator we pushed a button labeled "13" and exited onto a floor that had a big number thirteen on a sign in the hallway and went to a room with a number like 1307 or 1311.

True story: we heard other people on our floor but never saw anyone else on it... in Manhattan. We were in Manhattan and we didn't see other people on the floor of our hotel... the thirteenth floor.

Chris didn't think it was eerie. I was convinced I was going to step into the hallway and see Rod Sterling walk by wearing a snappy suit and smoking a cigarette. This might be largely due to the fact that I've seen nearly every episode of the Twilight Zone more than once.

In all honesty, I'm pretty disappointed I didn't seen Rod. Maybe next time.

It's Fun to Stay at the...

Words of Wisdom by Carolena: It's Fun to Stay at the YMCA

If you mother mentions to you during breakfast that you might go check out the local YMCA, ask for a second drink. Right then. It doesn't matter if you haven't finished your milk. If you are going to the Y you need to be well hydrated. Request lemonade right then and there. If you are lucky enough to actually get lemonade (or the beverage of your choice) chug the whole thing as soon as possible and then ask for more. Your mother will exclaim something to the effect of, "my what a thirsty girl!" and that's when you'll know you've got her. She thinks you are thirsty. Drink as much as possible until you get to the Y.

Upon entering the Y be on your very best behavior. Casually look in the window at the people working out. Carefully push buttons on the vending machines. Drink some more of your lemonade. Eventually, one of you parents will notice that you have completely wet through your diaper. When they finally discover how wet you are you'll be whisked off to the ladies' room with your mother. Upon opening the diaper bag and discovering the diaper in the bag is in fact also soaking wet and there is a not a dry diaper in sight, your mission is accomplished. Success! You will now have the pleasure of walking out into the lobby in merely your dress and sandals. Commando. Ah, breathe a sigh of relief. Feel the breeze on your hiney.  All of that lemonade drinking paid off. You'll now be able to enjoy the Y just as you intended without a diaper dragging you down.

Alas, your mother or father will eventually find a spare diaper in the car. Hope you enjoyed the freedom while you had it.

Now comes the good part. Your parents' tour guide will eventually show up and that's when the real fun begins. They will drop you off in a kids' play zone. Heaven. Don't even bother to glance back at your parents as they say goodbye. A simple wave as you walk away will do the trick. Geeze, don't they know you have new kids to meet and new toys to play with. Who has time to say goodbye? Don't they know after all, it's fun to stay at the YMCA?

30-Love

When I worked in Hilton Head Island I had a friend who loved tennis. I mean... he loved tennis. I asked him to teach me, and so one afternoon we headed to our apartment tennis court for my lesson. After about 30 minutes of playing we had a conversation that went something like this:

Me: "Woah! I'm pretty proud of myself. I've actually hit some of them!"
Him: "Yeahhh..."
Me: "What?! Are you not surprised and impressed?!"
Him: "Well... {awkward silence}... I really thought you would hit all of them. I thought we were going to work on form..."

Today my mom taught me how to read a pattern and sew a dress for Carolena. She and that old HHI friend now have something in common.

Except that this time I'll have a new talent and awesome dress to show for it.

Words of Wisdom From Carolena

The Art of Fine Dining: Crawfish Edition

If a nice older couple from church invites your family out for a Cajun lunch always say yes. You love your Beaumonster mom, you love red beans & rice, you love restaurants, you love older people... how could this go wrong?

Step One: Flirt. Flirt like crazy with the older man. Give him plenty of attention. Glance at him every once in a while to make sure he's still paying attention to you. Flash him your most dazzling smile. Bat your eyelashes at him. Hand him one of your crayons and invite him to share your piece of paper to color with you. When your mom offers you a chip smile coyly at the gentleman and convince him to put some butter on it for you. Woo him the entire meal.

Step Two: Don't eat anything that isn't a carb. Except butter of course. If your mother puts some fried crawfish on your plate eat the fried batter off of each one and then carefully place every naked tail back on your plate... you will need them for steps three and four.

Step Three: When you are finished eating every carb within sight, grab your water glass and announce loudly, "ICE!" Then start plunging your hand in for a treat. Once you have had your fill of ice, collect all of your unbattered crawfish tails. Place them one at a time in your water. If your mother gives you a look or asks you to mind your manners, glare at her. But be sure to smile coyly at the gentleman next to you lest he think the glare was for him. After carefully placing each tail into your drink, stab at them with a straw until the water becomes murky.

Step Four: Talk to the older man. Show him your new drink. Then, bottoms up! Drink your crawfish water. Just take a deep breath and do it. It won't taste good but you must prove your mother wrong. After taking a big swig of your Crustacean Cooler, smile at everyone and say loudly, "mmmm." Make sure they think you enjoyed your creation. Just for good measure, smile at the older man again. Maybe offer him another crayon. He really enjoyed coloring with you.

Step Five: While the adults are chatting and waiting for the check and all of the plates are cleared from the table the older gentleman might ask you if you would like to be held. Act appalled. Glare at him. Give him the cold shoulder. Where would he ever get the idea that you would like to sit with him?

Step Six: Smile widely and say "thank you" and "bye bye" to the couple as you are leaving. If you're really feeling appreciative now is a good time to blow a couple of kisses. Adults really eat that up.

Going out to eat with an older couple is a fine art. Don't worry if you don't get all of the six steps right on your first try. Keep at it. Enjoying the finer things in life sometimes takes practice.

E.T. Phone Home

How to Make E.T. Feel Right at Home in Your Home: A Guide By Carolena
Part Two: Home

Now that you have successfully brought E.T. into your home the process of making him feel right at home in your home enters phase two. The first thing you need to do upon bringing E.T. through the front door into his new home is to help him get acclimated. Show him around the house. Introduce him to some of his new roommates. Teddy Ruxpin and various baby dolls will really need to make his acquaintance first thing. If you have pets living in your home be sure to introduce them as well.

Since he is in a new environment it will really be best for E.T. if he doesn't leave your side for a minimum of three days. Your parents will scoff when you try to bring him outside or back into the car but persevere. Spending time together is crucial to E.T.'s sense of comfort. This togetherness phase should include any and all activities. When you eat, E.T. eats. When you read, E.T. reads. When you sleep, E.T. sleeps... right next to you.

Speaking of sleep. There is a good chance E.T. will be tired after all of the recent life changes he has experienced. If your parents are talking in the vicinity of E.T. it is a good idea to point at him and press your finger to your lips and then loudly shush your mom and dad. Sheesh, don't they realize the poor little guy is exhausted?

Now, onto a more delicate topic: bathroom etiquette. Chances are upon bringing your E.T. home you will not be sure whether or not he is potty trained. It is a good idea to get him in a diaper as soon as possible. He will be sleeping in your bed after all...

After diapering E.T. it is really wise to get him into more suitable clothing for his new lifestyle. Choose something that is both eye catching and easy moving. He will be most comfortable in something that is easy to move in but also makes him feel like part of the family. Choose bright colors and breathable fabrics. All this is to say... just stick the guy in a dress. Preferably a brightly colored very girly dress.

Finally, let E.T. participate in some activities he enjoys. Put him in the stroller for a cruise around the house. Let him ride in the basket of your toy shopping cart. Give him plenty of snacks. Let him use your phone. If you can manage to grab it when she isn't looking and has carelessly left it somewhere within reach, grab your mom's phone. E.T. will really love that. Most of all, just make E.T. feel welcome and loved. Before you know it, you'll have your arm around him in your next family photo.

Maybe it was an Iguana

How to Make E.T. Feel Right at Home in Your Home: A Guide By Carolena
Part One: Goodwill

First, when you spot E.T. sticking out headfirst from the top of the toy rack in Goodwill, stand up, lunge for him, try to reach him, and by all means, cheer "yay!" as you are doing this - it will let E.T. know you are trying to grab him because you love him and not for evil purposes. Perhaps he will reach out to you if he knows you have good intentions. If the stupid shopping cart your mother shoved you in is too restrictive (why does she always insists on those things!?!?) and you are unable to reach him, start frantically pointing and jumping up and down. Try to climb out of the cart. Yell loudly at your mother, even if she is mere inches away, "AHH!! THERE'S ET I MUST HOLD HIM AND LOVE HIM RIGHT NOW!!!!" Never stop grabbing for and/or pointing at E.T. during all of this lest there be any confusion. Your mother will probably give you a dumb look and say something like, "what? you want E.T?" To which you should smile, start frantically nodding, and say, "yeah. yeah. yeah!" over and over. If you are unfortunate enough that your mother does not hand you E.T. and begins to walk away, start back over at phase one and try to grab him yourself.

*Fortunately Carolena's mommy loves E.T. and was thrilled at this new development. Score!

Next, hold E.T. tightly. This step is very important. He will be scared from his recent trip from his original home to Goodwill. He may have ridden in the shopping cart with other kids and then dumped unceremoniously back on the shelf. It is your job to make sure both E.T. and your mother know you will not be leaving the store without him. Hold him tightly in a bear hug. Every once in a while hold him at arm's length so that you can gaze lovingly into his beautiful E.T. face. Perhaps even let him sit in the cart while you hold his hand for a moment, but don't let that last too long - he will really prefer to be hugged. Maintain this hugging session for as long as possible. At a minimum you will need to hold him tightly throughout the rest of the store and through the checkout lane. Word of warning: at the checkout they will try to take him from you. You must resist. The grownups will insist they will give him back but we've all heard that before. Continue to hug E.T. as you walk to the car even if he impedes your journey. Be patient as you walk with him, he is more than half your size you know. Hold E.T. as your mother straps you into your car seat. Hold E.T. as you drive home. Whatever you do: don't let anyone else hold him until he is safely in your home.

The important thing in this first phase of making E.T. feel right at home in your home is to make the meeting and transition one that is comfortable for E.T. Make him feel loved from first sight. Make him feel safe in your arms even if they barely reach around him. Let him know he will be loved and adored rather than shoved in a closet somewhere as he so clearly had been wherever he'd lived these past 30 years. Finally, be sure your mother always brings a snack for you when you go thrift shopping. You'll need your energy up. You never know when you might meet an E.T.

Join us for next time for instructions on activities E.T. enjoys, suggestions of outfits he likes to wear, and his sleeping habits in How to Make E.T. Feel Right at Home in Your Home: A Guide By Carolena Part Two: Home.

Bow Mount or Transom?

My mother often uttered single phrases to us over the course of years. Every once in a while we would hear such profound questions as, "Would you do that if you were at the White House?" when we played with our food and sang at the dinner table. "Casey, boys don't pursue friendships" was a phrase I heard often when I would fret over whether or not the boy calling me all of the time actually "like liked" me or not. And, I think my siblings will also find this little gem familiar: "No one wakes up and says, 'I'm going to get in a terrible accident and die today."
  
Last night I stayed up awake for hours fretting over this blog. I had what Kelly's friends have deemed "the Sleepytime Saddies" - you know the feeling - when the sun goes down and suddenly everything else crashes beyond the horizon with it. It's sleepy-time, but you just stay awake feeling sad and/or confused.

Mainly, I felt creeped out. This blog has already had way more hits in way more countries than I wanted it to. My intention is for this blog to reach my friends and my family. There was only one explanation: TROLLERS.

Eventually I got out of bed and found the ZzzzQuil we'd stashed in the medicine cabinet. I took a swig and a few hours later, voila! Here I am on the old blogosphere.

With the morning sunshine and the memory that I do in fact have friends living in some of those countries who pinged this site (sheesh, doesn't everyone assume the worst?) I feel much better. Now, that isn't to say this blog might not suddenly cease to exist in the dead of night. Kids, no one wakes up and says, 'I'm going to get in a terrible accident and die today.' You'll wake up, have a nice cup of coffee, and sit down at your computer to "check the news." We all know what "news" you're really checking: email, Facebook, blogs. You'll hit up the old Becoming Leona site and BAM! your favorite site is gone. Just like that. "I only wish we'd had more time together!" you'll scream. You'll mutter in disdain, "{expletive of choice} you cdunk!" You'll frantically type and retype the web address. Finally, you'll slump in your chair, giving into the tears of frustration and the sad reality: it's gone.

My blog will have been hit by a MACK truck.

It could be tonight. It could be a year from now. It could be 30 years from now (although hopefully by then I won't blog because I'll just apparate or teleport and give you news face to face).

My point is this: when that day finally comes, don't blame me. Blame all those damn trollers in Germany... they're the ones who drove the truck.

It's Like Raaaaiiinn on Your Wedding Day...

This morning I attended a training session to become a facilitator for Safeguarding God's People. SGP is a curriculum used in our diocese intended to help churches take steps to safeguard the church against unhealthy sexual relationships, sexual misconduct, and sexual exploitation within pastoral relationships in the parish.

The first thing I did after entering the building and dropping off my bag was walk directly into the men's restroom.

oops.

Words of Wisdom From Carolena

The Fine Art of Dining: Yogurt Edition

First, insist on eating yogurt if you see a container of it.

Wait, that's not all... insist on eating yogurt if you see your mother open the fridge. Insist on eating yogurt if you see the fridge. Insist on eating yogurt if you even think about the fridge.

Place your napkin in your lap and pick up your spoon. Do this only to humor your mother.

As soon as your mom even so much as glances away or blinks, begin to use your hand as a shovel and get as much yogurt into your mouth as quickly as you can. This is a contest. You will lose points for going too slow or not getting enough yogurt onto the table and your chair. Points will also be deducted if any yogurt is on your spoon.

Always drink the end of a container of yogurt. Don't let anyone add milk to it to make it easier. Hah, easier is for babies. Just hold the container up to your mouth and make really loud sucking noises. Then, if you are really a lady of culture (pun intended), spread the remainder of the yogurt on as much of your body as possible. It keeps your skin baby smooth even as you age into toddlerhood.


And people, this part is very important: If you have a mother who worries about such things (which fortunately Carolena's mom doesn't... washcloths exist for a reason) just don't touch anything with your yogurty hands on the way to the bathtub. Go easy on her. She is the one who buys the yogurt after all.

The Svendsen Gene

Perhaps you heard the phrase and thought we were all saying "Svendsen jean" in which case you probably imagined skin tight bell bottoms straight from my mom's closet in the 70s or from the rack at a thrift store. You know the kind: so tight on the top you need pliers to get them on, so big on the bell bottom you might receive a check from the city or a street cleaning service for your help in cleaning up the streets. You would be right in thinking of those particular jeans if you heard the phrase "Svendsen jean," but nonetheless you would be wrong. What we're saying, in fact, is "Svendsen GENE."

If you aren't familiar with the phrase "Svendsen gene" I can't help you there. Move on. Pick a new blog to read.

Okay, okay,  I'll give it a try. Svendsen is my mother's maiden name. I can summarize the Svendsen gene phenomenon with 2 stories: 

1. Carolena has a children's book about the Vikings. It stresses that Viking women were tough, independent, "don't get in my way" kind of women. While the men were out pillaging and exploring and all that jazz, the women were at home... doing everything. So when the viking men came back from their travels, who did they find in charge? The viking women. Want to know who my ancestors were? My mom's maiden name is Svendsen.

2. I once saw my mother converse with a man who looked exactly like Mr. T. He had come straight to her from being released from prison. PRISON. And did I mention that he looked like MR. T?? During the course of their conversation I witnessed my mom grab Mr. T by the collar, yank him halfway over a display case, and say sternly, "Don't F*$K with me." THAT my friends, is the Svendsen Gene.

Fashion Advice From Carolena

Some free fashion advice from the fabulous Carolena. Take it or leave it. Although, the girl's got style... I would take it.

Be yourself. Be original. Don't be afraid to wear a bright yellow hard hat to the pet store. 

  
Yellow sandals go with everything regardless of the season. 

And most importantly, if you find yourself riding along in a Target shopping cart, take advantage of the time your mom spends looking at pajamas. Locate the nearest underwear display and grab as many thongs as you can hold. Then, pull all of the underwear over your head and wear them around your neck as necklaces or scarves. This is a unique, stylish, and bold fashion statement. If your mother has no respect for your fashion ingenuity and removes your "necklaces" to put back on the display, scream. Just scream.

Becoming Leona: What's in a (Blog's) Name?

Most women my age are scared of one thing: becoming their mothers. This has never registered with me. Perhaps it's because of the fact I never went through the process of "becoming" Karen Rush. I was simply born just like her. I have the Svendsen genes (and the bell bottom jeans) to prove it. Believe me... I have never worried about turning into my mother. Remember the time in middle school I wore go-go boots to a dance? I do. When people exclaim over how much I look like, talk like, act like my mom, I receive this as one of the greatest of all compliments.

And now, now I find myself in the process of "becoming" like someone else too... Leona, to be exact. To tell you the truth, I'm excited about it. Leona was my paternal grandmother, "Gran" to Amy, Kelly, Hunter, and me. Leona was ladylike in a way that only women born around 1918 could achieve. Remember Jesus' commandment to love God and love your neighbor? She loved God. She loved her neighbors. She loved her family. She went to church. She wrote in cursive. She read. She traveled. She made lemonade when children came over. She thought a full serving of coke was approximately 4 ounces. She saved everything. I mean... everything. She ate fresh foods, and most of the vegetables on her table came straight from the backyard garden. She was kind to everyone. Everyone. 

And so it is with happiness that I look at my own life and see glimpses of Leona. I love God. I love my neighbors. I love my family. I go to church. I (sometimes) write in cursive (although not with Gran's exquisite penmanship... I'm working on that). I read. I travel. I make lemonade when children come over. Coke? Who drinks Cokes these days? I save... well... I don't save much actually. Leona was a child of the Great Depression. So she saved. I am a child of The Treasure House. So I purge. I reduce, I reuse, I recycle. I eat fresh foods (*ahem* or try to) and since our last move we're in the process of building a new backyard garden (though I can only dream of the day that I have a garden as awesome as Pop's was). I try to be kind to everyone... but come on, let's not forget I do have that Svendsen gene. 

So, what's in a (blog's) name? Plenty. My hope is that this blog will entertain you, let you get to know me and my fam a little better (or just keep up with our shenanigans if you already know us well), and allow me to keep a record of the hilariousness that is Carolena as I work on Becoming Leona (see what I did there... you're not sure if I meant "work on Becoming Leona" like in life becoming more like my grandmother or "work on Becoming Leona" as in posting to this blog. Gotcha!).