Author: Liz@ThisFullHouse

  • Wordless Wednesday: Improvisational Parenting-101

    Thingonecake_2

                 One good thing about having me,
                         as their mother?
                  They HAVE learned to adapt.

    [Hosted by:  5 Minutes for Mom; Official WWHQ]

  • I never dreamed that motherhood would be so…um…excuse me…but, what was I saying?

    I asked Thing Two to help me figure out what to get for Thing One’s birthday – because, you know, they talk to each other – so, after we dropped her and The Boy off at a birthday party, yesterday –  for one of Thing One’s best friends, who has a brother, who goes to school with The Boy, and invited him, apparently, their house is in need of some testosterone, too – Thing Two, Mini-me and I headed over to Famous Footwear.

    "I dunno, are you sure?"

    Bearpaw

    Yes, the boots are FABULOUS, but I wanted to be sure that it was what Thing One wanted.

    "I swear…these ARE the same exact ones Thing One pointed out in the flyer, Momma!"

    Still.

    "Try them on!"

    What?

    "I mean, you guys DO wear the same size!"

    Yes, but she’s so much more…you know…grown up and thems are some really, really big shoes to fill!

    Still.

    It seems like only yesterday

    "What are you doing?"

    I was anxiously awaiting the birth of my first child – boy, or girl, we wanted to be surprised – and I was going through
    a serious phase of cleaning every visible surface of the house.  I had
    the last batch of 3 dozen cookies baking in the oven when my water
    broke.

    "Hanging out and waiting for you."

    Garth (not his real name) came bursting through the
    front door with his tie literally wrapped around his neck and nearly
    fell on his face.  I had my feet curled under me and was reading a book.

    "Want a cookie?"

    Today…..

    I am going through a serious bout
    of indifference and find myself avoiding every visible sign of dust,
    lint, dirty dishes and the never-ending story that is my laundry. Even
    the cats have given up on getting fed and won’t come calling until my
    husband gets home from work. I’ve resorted to purchasing ready-made
    refrigerated cookie dough and haven’t picked up a book in…uh…what day is it, again?

    It seems like only yesterday……

    I napped when she
    napped and I planned my entire day around her feeding, sleeping, bathing and oh, the weather.

    If it was nice, I would take her for a walk in her stroller and enjoy the break away from the solitude and a change of scenery.

    If it was nasty, we would
    sit together for hours and play, read, bake or watch her favorite videos.

    Today…..

    Oh, I’ve grown accustomed to having my day dictated by more than one schedule and, most likely, asking the children to remind me to…well…NOT forget.  But, finding a way to carve out time for
    myself and Garth (not his real name) still eludes me, as much as sleep.  Not for the lack of trying.  But, I just can’t seem to be able to get it together, OR shut it all down.

    Still.

    It seems like only yesterday…..

    I did NOT wake to find an eager
    pair (or, pairs) of eyes waiting to greet me with a kiss.

    “I made
    dis for you. It’s a picture of Mommmmeee dressed like a pwincess
    because you are so boo-e-ful!”

    I didn’t get any Mother’s Days gifts
    made by little hands, with lots of blue crayon and adorably
    misspelled words.

    “Hapee Movers Day. I wuv u Mommy.”

    There were
    days when I was actually bored, lonely, never worried about what time
    it was or, hardly appreciated the therapeutic benefits of a little quiet
    time and a good book.

    "No, because tomorrow is pizza and movie night, but how about we have breakfast for dinner?!?"

    I never dreamed being a mother would be so…excuse me, a moment.

    "Yes, you may borrow my shoes, as long as they get put BACK and in the SAME condition you found them…um…in!"

    I’m sorry, what was I saying?

    3

    Today…..so, my first born baby girl has managed to sneak in another year and turned 14 years-old.  WAIT!  That’s just not right.  I’m still getting used to 13, sort of.

    In a few minutes, she’ll wake and the celebrations will start, for the 14th time.  She’ll be searching for clues and hunting for her birthday presents – no, it shouldn’t be that easy – not to mention, blow out the candles on yet another birthday cake…our 38th as parents, to be exact.

    Happy
    Birthday to my Thing One!

    Thank you for being such a good baby, for allowing me to love you, even when you don’t like me and still finding it in your heart to let me be…well…you know…your everything.

    [rolls eyes]

    No, you may NOT get a tattoo!

    [glances out the window]

    But…um…can I borrow your boots?

  • It’s not clothes that make the man, it’s totally about the tie Charlie Brown!

    Ties

    My husband Garth (not his real name) works at a bank.  I can’t say which one.  Actually, I could.  If I wanted to.  But, I won’t.

    Because, I’m not very happy with them at the moment and may say something that I will regret, later.

    But, I don’t work for them; he does.

    Right now, he…no, wait…we need him to have this job, more than the satisfaction it would give me to tell them just what exactly I thought of their new and improved way of making sure that Garth (not his real name) spends more time on the road, away from us, selling stuff for them.

    Still.

    He comes home to me and there’s very little else I can do.  But, be here.  Waiting.  Listening.  Hoping.  Looking for ways in which I…no, wait…we can make it a little, you know, better.

    Unfortunately, they don’t leave me much to work with.

    "How was your day?"

    He’ll loosen his tie, shrug his shoulders, ask about mine, instead and I can’t help but hesitate, before answering, wondering if I should really tell him, while I try NOT to notice just how gray his hair has gone.

    "I see you’re wearing one of my favorite ties."

    For the last…um…lots of years, every birthday and gift-giving holiday, the kids and I give Garth (not his real name) a new "fun" necktie.

    "I felt a little Charlie Brownish, today"

    Sympathetic to the fact that Garth (not his real name) HAS to get dressed and all the negative connotations that go along with having to spend the better part of everyday in "a suit."

    "Wait until you see what the kids and I are cooking up for Christmas!"

    Garth (not his real name) have already agreed that gifts are just for kids – stupid unattainable and totally unreasonable budget quotas, and all – I was trying to come up with something that would help remind him of what…no, wait…who he’s really, you know, working for.

    "Swell."

    Okay, I guess he’s thinking of the one we got him last year, with The Grinch, that lights up and plays, "Have A Holly, Jolly Christmas."

    "Just wait, you’ll love it."

    Do you want to know what it is?

    Fullhousetie_2

    Since, he’s not allowed to hang pictures on his wall, or keep pictures of us family on his desk, either – nor, does he have the time to read my blog – I thought it would be safe to show you this cool tie I ordered and designed over at Zazzle.com with the words "Got Revenue?"

    I think it’s fun AND totally business appropriate, especially for today’s quintessential family guy – who just needs to be reminded, every now and again – GET A LIFE, CHARLIE BROWN!

    What, ya’ think it’s a bit too LOUD?

  • Hump Day Diddy Dumbs: You say goulash – but, I say it’s gulyas – let’s just call it soup!

    I have this friend – YES, she knows I’m a Dork and still, you know, let’s me hang with her –  who takes it upon herself to remind my children, to remind me, not to forget…you know…things like, an upcoming class party, or when they should NOT come to school…like, tomorrow…and Friday…Monday, too…I think…because, there isn’t any…school, I mean…and they’d be the only ones there and other stuff.

    "Don’t forget about Saturday!"

    I’m sure she didn’t notice the extremely blank look on my face, since she wasn’t talking to me, as she continued keeping my 8-year-old son up-to-date about his busy weekend.

    "Okay, I think mommy has it on the calendar…thanks, M.J.!"

    Oh, it doesn’t bother me in the least – although, a couple of years ago her concern about my organizational skills, or lack thereof, would have probably kept me up at night and had me avoiding her for days after – she knows, that I know, after all these years of raising kids and killer dust bunnies, there’s just not much space left upstairs.

    Brain cells are at a premium, people!

    So, where am I going with this…um…well, I can’t remember…give me a moment…oh, yeah…let’s talk goulash!

    Still here?

    Well, then perhaps you’d be interested to learn that my parents are Hungarian and that my twin brother and I are actually the first generation to be born here in America!  We grew up eating, drinking, and breathing in the delicious aromas of my mother’s and grandmother’s cooking and believe that – especially, now that it’s FINALLY started getting a bit nippley here in Jersey – there’s nothing better than a big old steaming bowl of Gulyás soup on a cold day.

    I bet you thought it was a beefy sort of stew served over noodles, yes?

    Well, Amber’s husband Len did and so did Donna’s husband – I’ve since set them straight, the poor misinformed things – that red gravy-laden stew served over noodles (or, dumplings) is actually called Pörkölt and can be prepared using beef, veal, lamb and chicken.

    So, I promised them the recipe…um…a while ago…and would love to share it here, with you all.

    But, not before announcing the winner of the Bloggy Giveaway from…uh…has it been a week, already!?!

    Minimepickswinner


    We put all the names of the wonderful people who stopped by and left a comment in a hat – you know I love you, right – and had Mini-Me draw the lucky winner.

    Gretchenwins

    Yay, it’s Gretchen from MommyCast – Gretchen was the one who helped me make my trip to California picture perfect – so, what has she won?

    Fullhousefolksytwokids

    My parents returned from a 5 week trip to Hungary, in October, and – in memory
    of the men, women and children who lost their lives during the
    Hungarian Revolution of 1956 – I am proudly giving away a beautiful
    handmade linen table runner, they brought back from my mother’s village
    of Mosonmagyarovar, Hungary.

    Congratulations, Gretchen – I didn’t forget, see Sharon – and please accept our gift as a small token of my appreciation and friendship.

    And now, our recipe for Gulyás:

    Gulyas Leves (Hungarian Goulash)

    1 large onion (diced)
    3 carrots (chopped)
    2 parsley root (diced)
    3-4 potatoes (cubed)
    2 green peppers (diced)
    1-2 tomatoes (diced)
    1-2 lbs. stew beef (cubed)
    6 cups hot water
    2 tsp. paprika
    2 cloves garlic
    1 tsp. salt (add more to taste)
    black pepper (to taste)
    1-3 bay
    leaves
    3 TBS. canola oil
    1 tsp. caraway seeds steeped in water.
    dumplings

    1.  Heat oil in large stock pot, saute onion for 3-5 minutes.

    2.  Add the chopped meat and stir until well browned.

    3.  Stir in chopped onion, carrots, parsley root, green peppers and garlic, heat for 3-5 minutes.

    4.  Stir in tomatoes.

    5.  Add water, paprika, salt, black pepper, bay leaf, parsley and bring to boil.

    6.  Steep caraway seeds in a 1 cup of boiling water, strain caraway tea into soup.

    [Note:  My family prefers adding the caraway tea, rather than putting the seeds directly to the soup.]

    7.  Turn to low heat and simmer for about 15-20 minutes.

    8.  Add potatoes and simmer until potatoes and meat are well cooked.

    9.  Add Csipetke (Chee-pet-keh) to simmering
    soup.

    ——————————————————————

    Csipetke (pinched pasta)

    1 large egg, at room temperature
    3/4 all-purpose flour
    1/2 teaspoon salt
    1 tablespoon water

    1.  Add flour to bowl, making a well (with your fingers) in the middle of the flour.

    2.  Add the egg, salt and water, mixing until well combined.

    3.  You’re going to have to use your hands and squeeze the dough together.  Dough will look coarse.

    4.  Turn out onto floured table; knead until smooth.

    5.  Using forefinger and thumb, pinch off small bits of dough – add to simmering soup to cook.

    Phew, there ya’ go – the real deal – and if you’re STILL here…well…I’ll love you until the day I d’ugh…um…stop remembering my name!

    [knocking on wood until knuckles bleed]

    Did I mention we’re a superstitious lot!?!?

  • A Gift From The Heart: I Love You More

    I_love_you_more72rgb_2_4 Are you one of about a gazillion (yes, it's a word!) people who use the phrase, "I love you," everyday?  Are you part of that magical giving and receiving of love?  Have you heard of the Hippie Bald Chick? No? Wait, which one?

    No matter, let me start by telling you a little about Author Laura Duksta (a.k.a. "The Bald Chick") and Illustrator, Karen Kessler who earned the nickname "Hippie" from her love for people and the planet.

    The Bald Chick? Well, quoting Laura directly from her website:

    "The first thing most people notice about me is my head. At the age of 11, I lost all of my hair to a 'disease' called Alopecia Areata. Besides having no hair, I am perfectly healthy. This is a condition that affects about 5 million people in America and 1.7 percent of the total population. It's not been an easy journey, though it's one that I am eternally grateful for."

    After 19 years of wearing wigs, Laura made a decision on her 30th birthday to throw a coming out party as "The Bad Chick."

    Her mission is to share her story so that others might see that no matter what challenges they are facing, anything is possible with love.  She is now fulfilling this mission with her book, I Love You More.

    Well, quoting from the letter I received from their publicity manager:

    "Once opened, I Love You More is a gorgeous and touching combination of heartfelt message, rhyme and rhythm and child-like illustrations.  Its cleverly conceived flip story, which ends in the middle and starts from either side, will show you what love looks like from both a parent's and a child's perspective."

    Upon receiving a copy of the book in the mail, I was instantly drawn to its beautifully illustrated cover (being child-like and all) of a woman, holding a child, with their arms wrapped tightly around each other, and placed the book aside to read with my 6-year-old, later.

    Much later.

    "What's this?"

    We had just finished chasing our 4 children off to bed (read:  on our last nerve and having given our final warning) and I was trying to clean something very, very sticky off the kitchen table.

    "Oh, it's a book I was going to read with Mini-Me at bedtime."

    Whenever, she finishes brushing her teeth…that is.

    "What's it about?"

    Well, quoting Mini-Me's response with a toothbrush in her mouth:

    "It's about a mommy…who says she wuvs her baby more dan any-fing…and den da baby gwo-ohs up…wuving her more…you know, Daddy…just wike our mommy…except, she's your wife!"

    Yes, she gets it and so should you!

    In the meantime, I'd like to personally thank "Hippie and The Bald Chick" for reminding my husband Garth (not his real name, either) and me to go ahead and tell our children, "I love more!"

    Even if it is, you know, way passed their bedtime.

    ©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook and everything!

    Disclosure: No payment, service or product, other than a complimentary book to facilitate this review, was received for this blog post.

  • Soccer/mom bloggers with helicopter parent tendencies, UNITE.

    As defined by Wikipedia:

    A helicopter parent is a term for a person who pays extremely
    close attention to his or her child or children, particularly at
    educational institutions.

    Oh, the humanity…I mean, the nerve of some people…expecting to know and control everything their child eats, drinks, learns and watches…hovering over their children, so.

    That’s what I thought, too – until I had children – and then everything I ever thought I knew about being a good mother sort of, you know, was ripped to shreds on Oprah Winfrey and Dr. Phil.

    Having at least one parent home and available for your kids is good…staying home with them is bad…supporting your children and teaching them to be self-sufficient is good…working outside the home is bad…alpha moms suck…beta moms suck poodle…being a good mom is bad…being a bad mom is good…I mean, wait.

    Spring forward, jump back two spaces…which is it?…I forget.

    So, I was thinking – a dangerous concept for a professional Dork, I know – how about if we (moms AND dads) STOP with all the name calling and goofy monikers (momikers, they call it) and just accept the fact that  – when it comes to raising children – we are ALL a bunch of Dorks!

    In my experience, there’s always someone ready to prove YOU wrong – and then make up a name for your sorry butt – so, why fight it.

    Most likely, it’ll probably be one of YOUR…I mean, MY…d’oh…OUR kids are going to think we sucked at it, anyway!

    [stepping off of soapbox]

    Okay, I admit it.

    [pours another cup of coffee]

    I am a soccer/mom blogger with helicopter parent tendencies – I drive a 7-passenger car and want to know exactly where my kids are and what they are doing, most of the time – but, the whole reason I started this here blog…in the first place…was to be able to hear myself think…since my kids don’t listen to a word I say, anyway!

    I’m not perfect and my kids seem to be okay, anyway.

    "Um…do you know that Mini-Me’s wearing two different cleats?"

    [eyes go wide]

    Fullhousemismatch

    "Well, at least THIS TIME she’s wearing the right shirt."

    Like, a few Saturdays ago, when I mistakenly pulled a green shirt out of the laundry basket (after successfully completing the smell test, of course) and learned that it was actually…um…The Boy’s shirt from two years ago!?!?

    "Her team’s color is green this year, right?"

    Her coach nodded his head and thought it was sort of, you know, funny – he’s GOT kids, after all – but, ask me a few years ago and I would have probably totally wigged-out!

    "Mini-me, stand still so Mommy can take a picture!"

    And died of total embarrassment!

    "You’re going to blog about this, arent’ you?!?"

    You betcha!

    [shrugs shoulders]

    Don’t worry, she knows – mommy bwogs ’cause it makes her feel better – but, to some people I will always be just another DORK!

  • Picture Perfect Thursday: Growing up sucks, it’s all MY fault and how I know!

    Thingonemomwatermarked_2

    I was going through my Flickr photos, yesterday, and adding watermarks (stupid photo stealing trolls)  when I came upon one of my favorite pictures of Thing One and me.  It was taken in the park towards the end of last summer and I think it says a lot about our relationship, at the moment.

    Being elegant, gentle, soft-spoken and a bit shy, by nature (no, not ME!) Thing One was born with a wonderful sense of being able to recognize, understand and empathize with what other people are feeling.  She would make a terrific teacher – not to mention, mother – some day.

    Me?

    Not unlike the picture, my judgment of character pales in comparison and I constantly find myself conflicted on whether or not I’m being accepting, fair, and open-minded enough with my children, or just Jonesing for someone’s approval.

    Growing up in a houseful of crazy Hungarians – I swear, we are an emotionally gifted lot – it was just easier to agree to be a good girl, rather than risk the thought of provoking disapproval and, quite possibly, some sort of physical shame.

    But, this post is NOT about me – or, is it?

    "Where’s Thing One?"

    I’ve already expressed my concern over how I’m having trouble with keeping up on all the changes my kids are going through – more specifically, how they’re growing up so fast and holidays just don’t seem the same anymore – but, decided to split-up and allow the older girls to go trick-or-treating with their friends, this year.

    My friend is a teacher in the high school and seemed to understand.

    "She’s decided to stay home and give out the candy, this year."

    Although, Thing One told her 8th grade friends different.

    "Daddy told me, that once you turn 13, I’m too old to dress up and go out trick-or-treating."

    doG, I was tired, in more ways than I want to go into (you’re welcome) but, we were on our way to pick-up Thing Two, still hadn’t eaten dinner – unless, you count a bag of chips, some pretzels and couple of candy bars raided from the haul brought in by Mini-me and The Boy – and already way late to their grandparents’ house, of course.

    "NO, that’s NOT what he said!"

    Cheese and rice, if anything, we have gone out of our way (read:  said yes, when we really meant "NO freakin’ way would I have been allowed to go to the movies, with a boy!) and I was sick (and tired) of being labeled the "bad parent" who always says "NO!"

    Still, we ARE talking about Thing One – remembering that each kid IS different – so, I tried to soften my tone.

    "Besides, you told me that you didn’t feel like it."

    Knowing, that it quite possibly meant that…you know…no one had asked her, yet.

    "I didn’t want to go."

    Okay, she lost me.

    "I just didn’t want to hurt their feelings and blaming you guys was…um…well…I’m sorry, but… it just seemed…uh…"

    I know.

    "Easier."

    She smiled and nodded her head.

    "I understand."

    My husband, however, has no freakin’ clue what’s going on with what’s going on, or how to handle Thing One, or Thing Two and their raging hormones – yes, there are days when growing up sucks and being a girl…well…sucks wet poodle – so, Garth (not his real name) has been sort of…you know…letting me deal with it…them…whatever.

    "But, do me a favor…your father’s been going through a rough time, too…so, next time…to make it easier on ME…just blame your mother….I mean, me…d’oh…WHATEVER?"

    Fullhousegrandparentswatermarked

    Finally, we got to my in-laws and Garth (not his real name) took probably one of the ONLY pictures I have of them, together.

    "I thought you’d be here, earlier and I sort of gave up on you guys."

    If she only knew.

    "It was all mom’s fault!"

    Oh, wait – my MIL had 5 kids – she knows!

    [FYI:  I tried a cool new tool at MacroPhotos.NET because it automatically replaces the original photos with the watermarked copy – also, don’t forget about my Bloggy Giveaway.  I have decided to include comments on all posts, this week.  Giving more of my blog friends a chance.  Because, you’re busy.  I know.]

    [11/5:  Comments are closed – a winner has been picked and will be announced, soon!]

  • Wordless Wednesday: Quick, someone call CSI – my house is about to become a crime scene!

    Thingonebed

    Exhibit A:  Thing One’s bed after she left for school today…I think.

    Thingtwobed

    Exhibit B:  Thing Two’s side of the room…oh, the humanity…where DOES the girl sleep?

    Minimebed

    Exhibit C:  Oh, no…et tu, Mini-me!

    Fullhousebathroom

    Exhibit D:  You think mens’ bathrooms are messy…if you live with girls…you don’t have to ask…then, you know!

     

    Fullhousescarycloset

    Exhibit E:  No monsters hiding in this closet…there’s just NO room!

    You’re speechless, I know!

    Such horrors in a house that even the likes of Michael Meyers, Freddy Kruger and Jason Voorhees (Friday the 13th) would be too frightened to enter…let alone, clean.

    CHOO-CHOO-CHOO…CHAH-CHAH-CHAH…Happy Halloween!

    Send help!

    [via:  5 Minutes for Mom]

  • Fall Ya’ll Bloggy Giveaways: This Full House Shares Their Folks’ Art

    Because I am such a BIG fan of Shannon at Rocks in My Dryer – not to mention, taking the chance of actual winning some fabulous blog prizes – I’m playing along with a very Bloggy Giveaway!

    Here’s how it works.

    You leave a comment on this here blog post and I’m supposed pick one – on Friday, November 2nd by 5:00 p.m. – and giveaway something really, really pretty.

    My parents just returned from a 5 week trip to Hungary and – in memory of the men, women and children who lost their lives during the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 – I am proudly giving away a beautiful handmade linen table runner, they brought back from my mother’s village of Mosonmagyarovar, Hungary.

    Fullhousefolksytwokids_2

    It’s about 2 kids long, as shown by The Boy and Mini-Me…

    Fullhousefolksyflower

    …with folksy flowers typical of Eastern European needlepoint, as shown by Thing Two…

    Fullhousefolksyflower2

    …and intricately crocheted edges, as shown by Thing One – yes, she still hates her hair!

    This is going to be fun – some of my favorite bloggers are playing along, already – and I can’t think of a better of way of celebrating our family’s heritage, than giving a blogging friend something really, really pretty!

    Remember, please leave a comment – by Friday (11/2) 5:00 p.m. – if you would like to take part in This Full House’s Fall Ya’ll Bloggy Giveaway and we’ll pick a winner on November 2nd!

    Good luck!

  • Holy Hannah Montana, Batman: You’ve Just Been Ghosted

    Fullhousepumpkindead

    Alas, poor Jack…I knew him…um…well, seems he couldn’t stand the heat and I don’t believe I’ve ever had a pumpkin actually…you know…melt.

    Yes, I know, we probably carved him way too early and the bugs had a field day, feeding, mating and whatever bugs do inside of rotting vegetables!

    Still.

    "When are we getting another one?"

    Um…let…me…think.

    "Next year!"

    [eyes go wide]

    Honestly, I don’t remember my parents ever spending as much time (as I do) preparing for a holiday (I know…Halloween isn’t one, technically) except, maybe, like Christmas and even then, we were the last family to decorate, the tree didn’t go up until Christmas Eve!  Yet, things still seemed to work out somehow.

    "Don’t worry…we still need to go out and find your Halloween costumes."

    I know; I’m hoping to have good luck with that, too.

    "Besides, the party’s not until Sunday!"

    This year, I really do NOT feel like I have a lot of control with what’s happening anymore – especially, with my kids.

    "I want to go trick-or-treating with So-and-So."

    "I’m tired of being a Ha-whoa-ween witch and want to wook just wike Hannah Montana!"

    "I want to be a Mutant Transforming Ninja Destroyer of all Things Great and Small!"

    "I’ve decided I’m not going trick-or-treating, this year."

    Even though she’s turning 14, next month, Thing One’s revelation threw me for a loop.

    "Don’t worry, Momma…Thing Two can go with So-and-So, you can take the little ones to Grandma’s and I’ll stay home and give out the candy!"

    Our nest is by no means empty – a bit full up and in dire need of a good disinfecting, actually – but, gone are the days when we would ALL dress up and go trick-or-treating, together!

    So, I’m taking a lesson from my parents and just going with the flow.

    "Fine…but, I am NOT giving up the ghosting!"

    Because, I AM the grown up here.

    Thisfullhouseghosted

    Let’s play!

    I created this blogging meme a couple of years ago and had a lot of fun with it. It’s time time we all tapped into our inner-child and go and ghost someone!

    The rules are easy:

    (1)  It’s your turn to "ghost" three other bloggers.

    (2)  Stop by their blogs and leave a comment on their latest post saying, "You’ve Just Been Ghosted — Come Over and Grab A Puking Pumpkin!"

    (3)  Copy and paste the puking pumpkin somewhere on your blog (either in a post or on your sidebar, perhaps) so that everyone can see that you have been "ghosted" and will NOT "ghost" you again.  This will also let you know who you can "ghost."

    (4)  Feel free to link to this post (or a post of your own) for directions, grab the puking pumpkin and go "ghost" 3 bloggers on your sidebar (preferably, somewhere you haven’t commented in a while, or a blog you’ve NEVER commented on before and/or new to the blogosphere) and dont’ be afraid to share some linky love.

    It will be fun to see how many "puking pumpkins" appear in the blogosphere by Halloween!

    Okay?

    I’ll start – my mother, punched your mother right in the nose, what color blood…no, wait…that’s not right – I’m going over to ghost 3 bloggers.  Look out, it may just be YOU!

    Have fun!