Sayonara

I love Erick for many reasons, one being that he can find random electronic equipment at thrift stores and rummage sales and turn them for a profit on e bay. A big profit. Like, can buy them for $20 and sell them for $400. Well, I love the supplemental income that provides our family on occasion, and am always supportive of his thrifty adventures. Always supportive, that is, until he buys 8 foot tall speakers on our family vacation in Colorado, hauls them all the way back in the rain and hail ON TOP of my used but still looks brand new Saturn. Both ends hanging off of the front and back of the car, fellow highway-ers craning their necks to see what in the world these crazy Okies are hauling home. "But honey, these speakers were worth like $2000 in the 80s." "They are a valuable vintage piece of electronic history! (Maybe better suited for Don Johnson's living room, honey).

Okay, so I know he's not going to keep these speakers in our house and is just planning on selling them as he always does. Wrong. These babies have now resided in my living room for a year, and have fielded many questions from curious girlfriends. "Are those SPEAKERS?" "Man, those things are TALL." "He hauled those HOME?" Statements of that sort of nature. Let's just say, none of those exclamations were ones of longing or admiration. I concur with you, girls.

All of this to say, today marks an important day in the life of my living room. These babies are going to a better place - a place far away from my house to another unsuspecting woman's living room. She should have kept her chump of a husband far, far away from the ebay auctions listing 'Rare, vintage, ENORMOUS, one-of-a-kind, only getting rid of them because my wife hates them....etc., etc. Sorry, lady. My 8 foot tall loss (16 feet put together) is your unfortunate gain.

I plan on hanging some pictures, wall-hangings, and whatever else I can find to fill the wall space those babies occupied. Soon to follow the hanging ceremony will be a celebratory dance in the middle of my living room. Now, how I will listen to the music for my celebratory dance is another question. I guess I will just cross that bridge when I get to it.

Speakers a few days ago.

Speakers this morning awaiting departure via the UPS truck. Oh glorious day!

Yo Dre

You Dre, what up dog
You gotta give 'em what they want
What's that, G
You gotta break 'em off somethin'
Oh yeah
And it's gotta be bumpin'
City of Compton

This video is for Daddy, who I blame for teaching this to my child. Snoop Dog went out in the 90s, guys.

So tired

I'm so incredibly tired tonight that laying down and watching the Democratic National Convention sounds sort of fun. And I'm a Republican. Erick's big 3-0 is today, and I sent him off with an incredible birthday present - a night out with 4 of his best friends. Thanks to all their wives for lending them to me! I owe you all one.

Man, today is one of those days that makes me feel like I worked out ALL DAY. I don't really remember eating anything all day, except a piece of turkey bacon, caramel machiato (courtesy of Summer), random fruits, piece of birthday cake, coffee. Okay, this is sounding horrible. I know there has to be something else in there.

I can tell I'm lacking in the nutrition department because of how strange this post is. Sorry for the ramblings, but sometimes, you've just gotta do it. I'm getting my hair cut in the morning, and just ask me how excited I am. Very. Even though I just have her thin it out and chop it up (as I always tell her), I love going. Now to figure out what to do with Greyson while I go. That sounds like I'm begging for a bbsitter, but I can guarantee you I AM NOT. I have never seen a child any fussier than he was today. I fed him a Push up pop in the backyard for dinner, because it was the only thing that would make him stop screaming. He looks kind of crazy anyways, because he got bit on the head yesterday by a friend/rival toddler. Definitely left a mark.

Okay, enough of this. I'm off to fall asleep watching the convention. Crossing my fingers for some awkward, fumbling speeches. (Sorry to the Dem. friends - all three of you).


Pacifier stealing, spice-loading, paper-shredding, Dora-pushing, leg-grabbing, screaming, whining ANGELS.

Love you too, Bode.

Next time, you're only allowed to come over when you aren't wearing make-up and promise not to hand wash my sink full of dishes. Love you anyways.

Eat this.

I posted this recipe on Mom Spark, but never took any pictures of it. Let me just tell you, this is my fam's favorite thing to eat in the morning right now. It takes less time to fix than eggs, and it is so healthy. It's Saturday morning, and I don't feel like typing this whole recipe out, so you get the photo version. The only thing I do differently than this recipe is to put the cookies on foil (sprayed with Pam), and I use real sugar.





These are almost like breakfast bars, because I cut them into strips. Easier for little hands to hold!

Just documenting this for posterity: the first wall. Soon to follow...cereal boxes, pillows in the backseat, and signs on the bedroom door. Ahem....remember, Jeff?




So sad.

We made it

Minimal crying on my part, a perfect morning on Raegan's part. She ate a WHOLE bowl of oatmeal before school, (which was a miracle in itself), and was satisfied with the 15 minutes of Clifford I promised that she could watch when she got up. I walked her over to the pre-k bench, stayed a few minutes to take the obligatory pictures, then SNIFFLED all the way home. Not bawled. I am really proud of myself. I guess Raegan's teacher fell this weekend and broke/sprained her arm and got a couple of black and blue eyes in the process. Poor lady. Needless to say, some of the kids were looking at her like she was a different person than they had met the week before. Raegan wouldn't really look her in the eyes for a minute, but she got over that pretty quickly .

I love her teachers, and know she is going to have a wonderful year. I know I'm definitely going to enjoy some quiet mornings spent with my sleeping 1 1/2 year old and a clean house! :)

Never say never.

If you want to see proper ballet technique and dress, head to Summer's blog. If you want to see a clueless musician mother attempt to dress her daughter each week to head to a class that I never thought my kids would have a part in, head to my blog. I wondered why the crotch of her leotard was so loose and bunchy, and her my little pony underwear were almost completely visible in the rear. Duh. It was on completely backwards. She better keep up the comedy routine in class and continue talking about cheetos (refer to Summer's blog), because I'm afraid it may be a rough road ahead with me as her mother.

One more day.

Wayne

I played in a band tonight for a woman who opened for Wayne Newton. Number one, I didn't know Newkirk, Oklahoma had so many Wayne Newton fans. Number two, I didn't know it was possible to be upper 70s/80s and not have ONE WRINKLE. I don't have any pictures of Darla Z., but I did snap a few of Wayne. How could I resist? How can you not love a guy who spends 10 minutes of his show talking about Viagra and the rest of the show kissing all of the women in the audience? I'm joining his fan club.





You should go to Newkirk just to see these statues. Beautiful.

Dremel me this, dremel me that

Now, let me attach the roto convertor to the sawblade attachment, while I jimmy the dremel, crank the mechanism, insert the shank of the bit into the collit, so I can cut a perfect circle in my drumhead. Guys.

Derailed (courtesy of the Heartland Cryer)

The train and our trip have been derailed. Greyson's upset stomach and yucky diapers this morning should have been my first clue that today was not going to go as planned. Frantically scrambling around at the crack of dawn finishing packing, changing multiple pairs of shorts on Greyson (due to diaper situation), weaving through rush hour at breakneck speeds trying to get to the train station on time, and the tingling sensations on the left side of my body due to an imminent stroke were some of the highlights of the morning. Looking back, they were the ONLY highlights of the morning. (Well, maybe not the tingling sensations. But I do think some kind of nerve damage took place on that highway).

We pull into to the Amtrak parking lot downtown, and are fishing around for money to pay the parking attendant, when he says, "You know the train's not coming this morning." "I'm sorry, could you say that again?" Erick asked. "They're taking buses," he states. (as I'm picking my jaw up off of the floorboards) I had noticed a FLEET of greyhounds parked by the train station and thought to myself how weird it was for there to be a bus stop right by the station. Nope. No bus stop. Just angry Amtrak riders who obviously aren't riding the train for kicks and just have somewhere to go. Oh boy (I think to myself), those society ladies right behind us with the Chanel purses, Danielle Steele books, and neck pillows are not going to be happy about this.

I can not believe this. Greyson has been saying 'choo-choo' for two days straight, and Raegan (early this morning) told me today was the best day of her life. Little did we know the train derailed last night, and will not be running until tomorrow... but it will be right on schedule!!! Of course. That's just a day AFTER we need the train to be running right on schedule.

We drive home in silence. Greyson is saying 'bye-bye' over and over again as we loop around to get onto 1-44 . Erick and I glance over at each other and start laughing hysterically at our rotten luck. What a Griswold vacation at it's finest. Car loaded to the gills with food, strollers, luggage, and toys. Lots and lots of toys with nowhere to go. Instead of crying, we decided to go to I HOP and drown our sorrows in chocolate chip pancakes and liters of coffee. To make the day even more bizarre, Erick's partner Ryan shows up with his two boys. Complete coincidence. I'm holding Charlie while Ryan and Christian eat, the server starts passing out handfuls of TRAIN stickers to my children, and I want to laugh and cry until I have tears running down my cheeks. PLEASE put the train stickers away, lady. We came here to escape the memory.

Determined to have fun today, Erick took Raegan and Christian to the 'Omballex'. I think playing with Christian as well as the promise of some overly processed, sugary snacks when she gets home have helped alleviate her pain. I'm going to feign the same disappointment, and hope Erick takes me out to do something later today. We are off work, after all!





When I look at these two pictures of my sweet little boy looking at this train sticker, I just want to cry. Sorry bud.

The Flyer

Heartland flyer, that is. Also known as the Amtrak as well as the gateway to the stars. Not really the last one, but if you asked my kids, this is the trip of the century. We just won't let them know that everyone else went to Disneyworld and Mexico this summer. "Get ready guys...you get to ride ALL THE WAY to Ft. Worth, stay in a Quality Inn, go to a science museum that DWARFS the Omniplex, and come home the VERY NEXT DAY!!!!!!!!!" Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pack some more overly processed, sugary snacks to keep the natives pacified. See you in a couple of days.

The reasons we weren't at BK

Pre-dinner delirium

Post-dinner delirium, so tired not even the Olympics can not keep this girl awake.

Distractions from cutting four teeth courtesy of random side table items: remotes, bobby pins, and high school classmates circa 1994.

Top teeth, meet bottom lip.

To all the girlfriends

Last night was so fun. I just want to say how much I love all of you girls. You all have so many different talents, points of view, and interesting stories. As I was scanning the room, I was just thinking how blessed I am. That I have talented friends like Summer and Aubrie who are able to put awesome parties like that together, other girls who are so crafty and creative, and friends who are hands down the best moms I know. I love knowing that we can be friends and sisters in Christ, even is the latter is the only thing we have in common. Thank goodness the immaturity and pretentiousness of our younger years are long gone, and we can embrace each other like the sisters we were always meant to be. I can only hope and pray that our daughters can find this fulfillment long before their twenties and thirties.

Thanks for a great evening.

(And it wouldn't be a complete post without telling you to go to Gene's latest story).

I'll pay you

My dad is having newbie blog insecurities, saying he is too old to be blogging, and that who would want to read what he has to say, anyways? As he says this, he has a twinkle in his eye, and I secretly know that he is thrilled beyond measure at the thought of sharing his stories with the world.

He wrote his first one yesterday. If you care to hear about the roach motel and a cat getting as sick as a cat could possibly get, and all of this landing on his head, go here. It's comic relief at it's finest.

My Dad

Today my family came over for lunch. We had a successful lasagna gathering. I really don't have much to say today, but mainly wanted to give a shoutout to my Dad who wrote his first post on HIS OWN BLOG today at my house. I lassoed him over to the computer, sat him down with a gargantuan glass of iced tea and a comfortable dining room chair, and insisted he get the ball rolling. My dad is a walking miracle. Not in the sense that he has overcome major illnesses or had a difficult upbringing or anything. Just for the fact that he has SO MANY STORIES about near-death experiences (i.e missing a plane that crashed and had no survivors, falling out of the Maybee Learning Center at OC and spending years in rehab, breaking the limbs of would-be carjackers, the list is endless). If you know my Dad, you know what I am talking about.

Anyway, he thinks I'm insisting he write these stories because I think he is going to be mentally feeble or something a few years from now. No, Dad. I simply can not go to MY grave not being able to recount some of the hundreds of crazy things that have happened to you. Besides, any good addict tries to lure her friends and family into her sick and twisted world of addiction. For me, that's blogging. ;)

Welcome, Dad.

UPDATE: GO CHECK OUT HIS FIRST STORY. YOU WON'T REGRET IT!

Trivia

Because I know you are itching to sharpen your brain this fine Saturday morning, here are three random trivia facts:

A car's instrument panel is called a dashboard. The term dates back to horse and buggy days when horses were kicking up mud, splashing passengers behind them. The dashboard was devised to protect them.

The works 'naked' and 'nude' do not mean the same thing. Naked implies unprotected. Nude means unclothed.

Burt Reynolds lives in a house in Jupiter, Florida, that was once used by Al Capone as a hideaway.

All pooped out

I was counting on a weekend full of free entertainment and babysitting courtesy of my brother and sister in law's baby schnauzers. I was NOT counting on piles of poop, babies stepping in poop and tracking it all over my wool area rugs, piles of more poop, inhaling pounds of dust mites as I sniff every centimeter of every rug in my house (thus turning into a dog myself), and spending half an hour trying to explain to Raegan why Rudder is jumping up on our dog's back and exhibiting some very strange behaviors.

This typed note with multiple fonts from my brother should have been my first warning. (Jeff, I warned you that I would make fun of you on my blog. By the way - you need kids. ;)