Genes

Yesterday I finally (finally!) went out and bought a new pair of jeans. I had received a catalog with a cute cute pair on sale, so I went on over to the store to check them out, and turns out the ones on sale were elastic waist. Okay, I'm all about comfort, and I understand the need for elastic waist in certain situations. Pregnancy, post-op, post-pregnancy, and, okay, I think that's about it. Unless you're 90 years old, then due to the fact that you've lived nearly a century, you can wear pretty much whatever you choose. I would choose a house coat. And slippers. Okay, I would choose that now, but I can't pull it off like an old gray haired granny.

So I give in and buy the regular priced jeans, and a shirt on sale for $9. Score! I'm not thrilled about paying full price, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. This whole time, both kids had been with me, and had been perfect angels. No, really. Gretta is still fighting a vomiting virus, so she was at an all time energy low, which translated into her sitting peacefully in a chair while Maggie entertained her with books and stuffed animals. It was Heavenly. I proceed to check out, at which point the cashier tells me she's a Montessori trained teacher who does babysitting on the side. Always a nice thing to know, just in case.

I gather up the goods, and the children, and head outside. As I'm crossing the road and scurrying through the 15 degree air, I see a car out of the corner of my eye. I realize about halfway across the road that it isn't stopping, and is, in fact, speeding up! Speeding up! The drives swerves around us, at which point I take it upon myself to give him the old Chicago Hello wave. This prompts him to slam on his brakes, which is just what I wanted. Now I can confront my attacker face to face.

He proceeds to get out of the car, and walk towards me. He is about 5 feet tall, no teeth, and no hair, and covered in tattoos. It is a perfect juxtaposition to the beat up POS Hyundai he's driving around. So we exchange words, which went like this,

Me: "Hey! What the heck? I'm a pedestrian (not pedestrain, Jill), you should be giving me the right of way!"

Jerk: "You need to use a *^&*ing crosswalk you *^&*(). "

Me: "Do you see any crosswalks around here?" Me motioning around and pointing out the fact that there are in fact, no crosswalks.

Jerk: "Well, you need to use a crosswalk! Stupid @#@$%"

Me: "I have 2 kids here, you could have killed us! You jerk, I'm calling the police."

Jerk: Ducks quickly into his Hyundai and "speeds" away.

At this point, I'm grateful for 2 things. The fact that Gretta was in my arms and not running alone by herself as she normally would be. And also the fact that I'm medicated with anti anxiety meds. Normally a confrontation like this would have sent me into a crying fit. I wasn't even shaking. I was calm. Calm, people! That $2 a pill is totally worth it after this.

But as I drove away, still reliving the incident in my mind, I realized that I'm especially grateful for my genes. Knowing in my heart that I was in the right, and knowing that had I been on the other side of this confrontation, I would have let that mother and her children cross the street and not even given it a second thought. There is something basic and instictual about it. Being a good person is more than just waving to a neighbor, or going to church every week. It's doing what we know is the right thing.

I could have turned out like that Jerk, who obviously has no respect for women, children, or people in general. I don't know his circumstances, but most people are taught right from wrong at an early age. And yet sometimes, it just doesn't take. They still do stupid things that are common for most of us.

But thankfully I didn't turn out like that Jerk. For some reason it took on me. And it stuck. Not that I don't ever make mistakes, but there is a place in me that wants to make others safe and comfortable.

And I blame it all on good genes.

True Meaning Tuesday

It's time for me to make a confession. This is hard fought because it practically goes against my DNA code.

I DON'T LIKE CHRISTMAS

I know! How can it be! But it's true. I don't like feeling torn in so many directions, and I don't like "settling" for the perfect gift to give some one I may not know very well.

I do love the spirit of Christmas. I love the lights, and the snow, and the food, and the food, and the food. But I especially love the stories of Christmas. You know the ones, the ones when you hear it, you start to get all goose pimply, and your eyes well up (or in my case, sweat) just a little. The ones that make your heart feel good, and your faith in humanity is restored. These stories can come in many forms. Children's books, short stories, family history stories, or songs. (Christmas Shoes, anyone?) But if we're lucky, or very observant, we may be privy to one of these stories in the making.

So this year, I'm starting True Meaning Tuesday. The Tuesday part is insignificant, mostly it just sounds good with the True part. Feel free to participate on your own blog. I will be telling one of these stories each Tuesday. Some will come from me, some from other people you may or may not know, and some will come from other sources such as published stories and such. My hope is that through this act of seeing the True Meaning of the Christmas season each week, my eyes will be opened to the miracles of the season that are happening around me. Thus making the necessities of this Holiday more bearable.

So stay tuned for your first dose of True Meaning Tuesday. And enjoy the Holiday season.

En Francais

This just made me smile.
She reminds me of Gracie, only en francais. Tres magnifique!


Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

Give Away Time

Go here for a great Macy's giveaway. 3 Kids And Us is a great site, found through Tip Junkie, just another reason to love that website, that does lots of giveaways and has a very cute template and button. Go here for the Macy's believe promise to donate $1 for each letter to Santa they receive at their stores. A good cause, and a great excuse to get your happy butt over to Macy's. I need a new pair of jeans in a bad, bad way, and Macy's is very um, size friendly for me. So I don't really need a better excuse than that.

At Least It's Clean

Yesterday started out like most days. Up and at em bright and early. Emma off to school, Maggie awake and dressed in her standard outfit consisting of a Hannah Montana shirt, jeans, and the puffy pink skirt over the top of the jeans, all of this topped off with sparkly pink shoes. She is all girl. And Gretta being her silly self carrying around 13 binkies and her milk. We headed over to the local Starbucks to meet up with some friends and get "coffee", which is code for Hazelnut Hot Cocoa. Mmm. I chatted up the ladies while the kids sufficiently destroyed the table and chairs with donut pieces and spilled milk. Eh, we'll just leave a tip, no biggie. After I had my fill of funny stories and gross sex talk, it was time to head off to Maggie's dance class. She danced her little butt off. Gretta got her white-girl groove on, too, and it was hilarious.

So we head home. I've decided that on the way, a trip to Linens N Things is in order, to take advantage of their misfortune of going out of business and scoring an electric blanket for cheap. Sounds good, right? Yeah. So I'm heading along, minding my business and listening to Cathy and Judy's Sex Thursday talk show, when I approach the turn off for my street. Should I continue to LNT, or should I head home and put Gretta to bed? Hmm. If only there was a way for this decision to be made for me. If only.

Then suddenly, "Waaahh, baaarrrfff." Gretta has spewed all over in her car seat. Decision made. I turn up the street and head home as fast as I can. She continues barfing in her seat, not really crying, mostly just saying "Eeewww", and looking at her slime covered hands. We whip into the driveway, I pull her out of the van, and strip her down naked on the grass. Mind you, it's 30 degrees outside. But I'm not taking any chances of having my van smell like rotten milk, as I was doomed to drive around a Jeep that smelled that way all summer. My bad. But I digress.

I pop G in the tub, and start the mind numbing task of disassembling the damn car seat. Does that remind you of the movie Short Circuit? "No disassemble, no disassemble! Number 5, alive!" That movie reminds me of Meg for some reason. And again, I digress.

What the heck is with those car seats? I mean really. I understand the need for safety and all that good stuff, but who hasn't had their kid puke in the car seat, and needed to rip it apart STAT? You'd think they would make them a little easier to get apart for washing and sanitizing and such. This is the second time in 5 months I've had this kid puke in her car seat. I should be a pro at this by now. I'm not. So now I have a clean, sanitized, taken apart car seat in my dryer. Sugar Daddy is out of town, and this time I don't have an identical model to copy like I did last time. What's a girl to do? I guess I'll stay home and take care of business here. Or I could attempt to put it back together. But at least it's clean.

Say What?

What do you think it says? I have my own suspicions.

Hey Y'All

Check out the Mom-preneur Shop-a-thon giveaway extravaganza going on over at Tip Junkie. Love the Tip Junkie. A prime spot for inspiration for an Activity Days leader such as myself. But seriously, tons of good stuff going on over there. It's definitely worth a look.

Gifts

Some of you may or may not know that I hosted my In-Laws for a couple of weeks. And being the good hostess that I am, I never took one stinkin picture of any of the stuff we did. Yeah, I'm just cool like that. We did have a good time, though. We did lots of cool stuff. We did a "double dutch bus" tour of the City. Very interesting. We made pajama pants, and the poodle skirt. Charlie did laundry. Mountains of laundry. He even cleaned under my kids' beds. Seriously, that alone put me a good week ahead in the housework department.

But Mom, being the sweetheart she is, knows the two things I love the most. Cookies and Roosters. So she gave us a "thank-you" rooster cookie jar. And she filled it up with home made chocolate chip cookies. Yummy! They lasted about 3 days, and my kids were begging for more. So I spent all day yesterday (okay, like an hour, but it seemed like all day) making more chocolate chip cookies. And refilling the jar. And I suspect they will last another 3 days.

So thanks, Mom. That jar will be put to very good use.

What I'm Doing Today

Mondays. Ugh. I don't especially look forward to Mondays. Don't get me wrong, I would look forward to them less if I had to go "off" to work, but dealing with what is left behind from a weekend of slakerness is no picnic either.


My kitchen in all its glory. The weekend tornado has definitely left its mark.



The laundry. Okay, it's been sitting here since Friday, so sue me. Part of me was hoping that Sugar Daddy would take it upon himself to put it away. Or at least carry it upstairs. I should have known better.



Bebe. I had to make a PetsMart run the other night for some necessities. Look at that cute new sweater. Don't judge me, it was 19 this morning, and I'm pretty sure I'd want a sweater on when I went outside to pee and poop and then eat my poop. Oh, and the diaper. Yeah, it's her time of the month. About the only thing I hate about a female dog that isn't fixed. I think it's time to get that taken care of. She hates the diaper, and I hate cleaning up the mess if there isn't a diaper.



And here's a shot of Maggie. I just love this kid. She was trying so hard to finish off the Lucky Charms so she could start cutting out the mask on the back. That's Mags, for you. Always the crafter. Cutting, pasting, taping, whatever.

So, that's pretty much my day. I'll be making a stop at the library for a new book. I've started the Janet Evanovich books "One for the Money", and so far I've read through One, part of Fourteen, some of Four, and just finished Three last night. In that order. Good thing I'm SMRT, or I'd get confused. Who knows what else today will bring, there's always a surprise in store.

In Case You Haven't Had Enough

I understand how boring it can be to browse the various blogs on your Google reader and see only images of mediocre children dressed up as mediocre characters. But I bring you Emma. A most beautiful child, in a most beautiful home made costume. I had a few people tell me they needed to see all of my kids in their costumes, so here you go.

Yes, she's in a poodle skirt, made by yours truly. Even the little doggie and leash. Yes, because I'm that talented. And yes, she's wearing her pajamas underneath. We took this picture on Wednesday afternoon because I forgot to get a picture of her on Halloween. She was home "sick" that day, cough cough. But what can I say, I'm a big softie about stuff like that. But seriously, she is sick. She has an ear infection. Her first ever. So I thought she deserved a day off for that.

A Special Month

I am so disappointed with myself. I had a post all written out, and thought I had scheduled it to publish today. And yet, I cannot find it anywhere. Apparently I need to rehash the pain that is cancer. November is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness month. Don't you love having a month dedicated to every cause? I think December should be Cash Depletion Awareness month. January should be Sanity Losing Awareness month. But lets just focus on this here month. November. There is a certain symbolism involved here.

My mom loved the Holidays. She would set up the Christmas tree at the office on the day after Halloween. She would cut out the Christmas show schedule from the newspaper and tape it to the fridge. Her embellished sweaters and watches and bracelets and pins and socks would be out in full force. And November was her jumping off point for all of this craziness. It is no small irony that the very cancer that took her life has it's scheduled awareness month at the very time of year she lived for.

I hate that I need to be aware of cancer in general. I especially hate that I have to be aware of pancreatic cancer specifically. I hate all that the awareness means. It means so many people are losing the battle. It means so many families are torn apart. But specifically for me, it means I have to remember all the feelings that come along with losing my mother. Every June I will remember that day of the diagnosis. Every July I will remember the dying and the funeral. Every August I will remember that drive across the plains to my home, knowing on return it would never be the same. September and October will bring thoughts of her birthday and conference weekend. And now November will bring the awareness. Only to usher in December and the Holidays. This seems to be some sort of sick monthly countdown. I wonder if every month will be special?

Again I Say

You might remember a little while ago I posted about a booger being stuck to my mouse. And it wasn't mine. I swear.

Well, it has happened again. Only this time it wasn't on my mouse. It was suck on the closet doors in my entry way. Nice.

I guess this is what happens when 2 kids have runny/stuffy noses, and the other one just has a special affinity for picking hers. And 1 of the 2 kids has croup, and the other one of the 2 kids has an ear infection. How lucky are we? Just in time to pass it all through the family for our trip to Utah. Yippee.

And today, after hearing of a friends passing from cancer, I miss my mom. I hate knowing what they are in store for over the next few months. It makes my heart hurt.

Bonus Post

I'd just like to thank all my sibs out there for being the first to put my new button on their blogs.

What? You don't see it on their blogs when you click the links? There is obviously something terribly wrong with their blogs, because I know in my heart of hearts that they would never, ever go more than a blog check or two without copying and pasting that simple HTML code over there. See? It's right over there on the left. See? It really is.

Apparently my hard-earned button has not taken blogdom by storm as I had anticipated. Shocking, really, I know. So far my button has made it to one, and only one, blog. But I mean, come on. Some of us are blood, so they are obligated to adhere this here button to their blog, are they not? I thought so.

So get on with it already. This is my subtle cry for approval.

Thanks.

Halloweenies

This was quite the Halloween around these parts. After arriving back home on Friday afternoon from a nice getaway to the city, we scurried around getting things ready for our party that evening. What started out as as small, intimate affair, blossomed into a full on fest. It was great. I think after final count we ended up with a total of 55 people. Just what Halloween should be.

Here's Maggie in her Princess dress. This isn't her costume. This is her daily attire. But at least she got candy for wearing it this time.


And here's Maggie and Gretta. Notice Gretta's costume. It is so cute. You'll never guess what she is. And I mean that because she absolutely would not let me put her costume on her. So she went around in her overalls. But she still looked cute.

And here's a taste of what part of our group looked like. We all tried to Trick or Treat together, but between burning corn bread, and runaway dogs, we ended up split up most of the way. That's okay, because we arrived back home, and had the most fun. White chicken chili, red bean chili, cornbread, and good company. The recipe for awesomeness.

Leave A Message At The Beep

Keli can't come to the blog right now. You see, she and her Sugar Daddy have gone to the city for a night on the town. Good food, good shopping and good... Well, use your imagination. Let's just say it's been a while since they have been away from the kids.


So, Hyatt Regency, here they come. Thanks to Hotwire.com for getting them a great deal, and thanks to Grandpa for watching the kids. Don't expect pictures, because it's not that kind of trip.

Later alligator.

Dang You Darci

A few weeks back, my loving cuz Darci from L-to-the-V blogged about her sweet kid pooping in the bathtub. You will want to scroll down a little bit to see the comments section. Go ahead, scroll. I'll wait. I'm waiting.








Did you see what I said? Yes, my kids had only ever done this once. Note that I said kids. With an S.

Until recently. Gretta has taken it upon herself to poop in the tub 4 more times since I wrote that comment.

Murphy's Law? Probably. Sick irony. Yep. For sure.

Appreciation

I love living just outside the Ghetto. It makes for fun times driving around town. And it makes me appreciate my surroundings. The other morning I was heading back from a muy delicioso breakfast of Nutella and banana crepes at Wildberry, when I was treated to this prime specimen of hoopdee hoopness.

Sorry for the poor picture quality. I was trying to drive and take a picture all at the same time. Shh, don't tell. But for those of you that can't tell, yes, those are in fact Twenty-Fo inch rims on a car. Yes, a car. Some trucks can't handle Twenty-Fo's. Niiice.




And here are the lovely ladies with whom I shared a nummy breakfast. Neighbor Kate and Cayden, and Rosalia, who we're still trying to convince needs a blog. Because every good mom needs a blog, right moms? And for the record, she has the cutest hair I've seen in a long, long time. And her little boy there, Giovanni, he didn't make a peep through the enitre breakfast. Which is more than I can say for Gretta. And Cayden.

But really, this breakfast has awakened in me a sense that I need to do those kind of things more often, and an appreciation of good friends who share my needs. Why oh why do we act like hermit crabs all winter? I mean besides the sub-zero temperatures? It felt so good to sit and chat about mom stuff, and kid stuff, and most importantly, woman stuff. It was like Relief Society. Only yummier.

The Best Thing

For those of you that know me well, know that I likey my sleepy. I love taking naps, and I love sleeping in on cloudy, rainy days. Unfortunately, I have an early riser on my hands. Emma likes to get up around 6 or so, sometimes earlier. But it's not Emma that I'm talking about. Maggie, she could sleep in until 8, no prob, so it's not Maggie I'm talking about either.

It's Gretta. She wakes up at the first sound of life in the house. Which, unfortunately, is around 6 when Emma wakes up. Not.A.Good.Thing. But since I'm a loving, devoted mother, I arise and start off the day, doing my motherly duties of cereal and milk and making lunch. And of course I do all of this with a smile on my face, and a song in my heart. Sense the sarcasm here.

The other night, as I was getting G ready for bed, she became fixated on a Hello Kitty pillow that resides on the bunkbeds that share her room. She didn't want to leave that pillow alone on the bed. So I put the pillow in her crib, thinking she would be sick of it in no time. Turns out, she loves it. Yeah, she's 21 months old. She probably shouldn't be sleeping with a pillow. But she is.

And my life has suddenly become much, much easier. Now, her once short sporadic naps have become 2 hours or more. Heaven! And her habit of waking upon any sound in the house? Gone! She sleeps through anything now! I can even go in her room to check on her now, which is probably a good thing, since she's sleeping with a pillow and she's 21 months old, or have I mentioned that already?


So thank you, Hello Kitty. I never thought I would be grateful for a creepy kitten with a giant head, and yet, I am. Gretta thanks you too, from her very rested heart.

Send out the P.I.'s

Have you missed me? Be honest. You have, haven't you. Haven't you? Well, even if you haven't, I've missed you. Oh blogdom, do not a hater be. Please take some pity on my poor, slacker soul. You see, I've been so very busy. You will never understand the "ness" to which I've been busy. In the last 96 hours, I've played host to 8 guests, at 2 separate intervals. You don't understand the amount of time, and laundry detergent, that has been spent folding towels and sheets, and rugs, oh my!

Here is just a taste of what kind of things I've been up to recently.

Lugging around 6 kids. To dance, to the drug store, and to McDonalds. Where else could 6 kids be entertained simultaneously? In the picture are only 5, but you can't see the one sharing the cockpit of the vangina avec moi.





And here are their dear, dear parents. Parents for whom I have an immense respect, not only for traveling so far to attend the temple like dedicated Latter-Day Saints, but because I now understand the time and patience it takes to rassle 4 kids. I may have provided the cheeseburgers, and even though I skimped on the drinkage, there was nary a complaint. Good, good kids.

So dear blogdom, now you have my plea of not guilty by reason of insanity. Don't they call it by reason of mental disease or defect now? Probably, but either way, it fits. Do not fear, I will return. And I will return with a promise of more interesting posts, and pictures of various projects and children. So for now, dear blogdom, I bid you adieu.

Busy busy

We've been an in-law hosting house the last few days. It's been so awesome to have family come and visit. I love having the MIL here to entertain the kidlets with puzzles and games, and all other sorts of distractions. But I also love having the MIL here because she shares my love of all things craft. 'Cept she's good at it. So we've been keeping plenty busy around here with projects galore.

This is the first taste of what is to become many, many wonderful items. One is already finished, but it will have to wait. I know, the suspense, yeah yeah.



This is the other outlet du crafte. This was last nights family night project. My kitchen table was slathered with newspaper, and then the newspaper was topped with paints and pumkins and brushes, oh my! We ended up with a pumpkin per person, and one extra. I think they'll look quite loverly on the front porch.

Stay tuned for more excitement. We received a phone call this afternoon asking to be the B&B for more family members later this week. Of course I was more than happy to oblige, so it should bring some good times.

The Happiest

A shout out to my awesome bro. It's his birthday. He's a way hottie, I have it on pretty good authority that he's just getting better with age. Good job on that.

So here's to you, oh aged one. Have a mighty fine day.

Dancing Queen

Maggie has been taking dance lessons for the last month. And let me tell you, if there could be one girl that loves to dance more than any other girl on the Earth, it's Maggie. This girl, she amazes me. Just when I think she couldn't get more girly, she goes and does something that just makes my jaw drop. Like galloping. She gallops everywhere, because that is what she learned to do in dancing class. Here is a picture of her galloping around her gym. She's wearing a tail, and they were dancing to Jungle Book music. It was adorable.



And here she is looking possessed while trying to hop on one foot. She is really quite good at hopping, but it's hopping and looking graceful at the same time that trips her up.

Mostly I just love that she loves it. It's like soccer or any other sport kids choose to do. Seeing the joy of accomplishment in their eyes, and the thrill of the new and undiscovered that makes spending all that time each week freezing my butt off in a musty old gym worth it.

Win Sumthin

If you like handbags, as I know you do, check here for a chance to win a brand new one. They are giving away a bag an hour for 24 hours! Crazy!

Thanks, Handbag Planet!

2nd Picture

I was tagged by Rachel, (which reminds me, I'm still not positively sure as to how to pronounce your name correctly. I've heard it like Ray-shell, and I've also heard it like Ruh-shell, so if you could enlighten me, that would be super!) who challenged me to post the 2nd picture ever uploaded to my computer. Wow, this is going way back in the way back machine. I have a few less chins, and Maggie has a whole lotta black hair! And I can't believe Emma. She's always seemed so grown up to me, but she looks so little in this picture. So here you go.




I think my BFF Lisa Blackburn took this picture, she also gave Emma that little dolly, which we still have! We also still have the jammies Emma has on. My mom gave those to Emma when I was still in the hospital after giving birth. Of course now, the sleeves and pants have been cut off to fit an ever growing child, and making them much more comfy. Gretta was just wearing them the other day, and they are trash-tastic! But I digress.

Maggie was about a week old in this picture, I think. I know she was still pretty new, because I can only fit in those jeans I have on for about the first 2 weeks after I have a baby. Then the tummy puffs back up, and there's no way in Hell those things are going on. They've been that way with all 3 babies. Plus, obviously I was still not sleeping much, just look at that shiny skin and the apparent lack of blow drying skills. Nice. Sugar Daddy is looking good as always, though. He's my babe.

And I Don't Even Smell Like Curry

This weekend I realized I'm not as low maintenance as I hoped. And of course, it all hits at once. Suddenly I needed a pedicure, my brows waxed and a good deep conditioner. The pedicure and deep conditioner will have to wait due to time constraints, but I was able to get the brows done.

I branched out, partly out of curiosity, mostly out of desperation. And I'm thrilled with the results. See what you think for yourself.

Things I've Learned Since Living In The Midwest

• How to avoid dead racoons on the road
• How to prove residency for everything
• You're likely to be the only Mormon in your town
• And probably the first one most people have met
• The true meaning of "wind chill"
• How to use a dehumidifier
• That you can't pass on the right.
  
• Game days are religious holidays

But most importantly, I've learned a lot about myself.

• I can do pretty much whatever I set my mind to
• I'm more self sufficient than I ever thought I could be
• I enjoy discovering new places
• I'm stronger than I ever thought I could be
• I appreciate my family, both near and far, for the efforts they put in each day

I love living here. I love starting a new adventure for my family, and I love knowing that wherever we are, whatever the situation, we will always have each other.

Spiritual Aardvark Theory

I was listening to Kathy and Judy yesterday. They have a wonderful talk radio show that totally cracks me up. I'm not normally a talk radio person, because let's face it, I'm not that into politics, and I don't pretend to be smart enough to know what the heck they're talking about anyway. But K and J, their show reminds me of something like an audio blog. You know, just kind of random things, not much of a filter, etc. etc. Yesterday they had on a girl (woman?) that had just copyrighted a new "scientific theory". Now this is good. Apparently one day, she and her friend were watching TV, and a commercial came on that had a scene with a girl in an aardvark costume that was participating in a school play. She commented to her friend about how random an aardvark was, and how you never see them. Well, the next day, for some odd reason, the word aardvark came up 3 different times, with no help from her! So this got her thinking. Doesn't this happen a lot? You see something, or hear something, and sure enough, it's everywhere. It's like your brain is suddenly more aware of that specific subject, so you notice it more.

I have taken this theory one step further (farther? I can never remember, please correct me, Eliza). When we were dealing with the sickness and subsequent death of my mom, we were all acutely aware of so many miracles happening around us every day. From the smallest things, like the hospital cafeteria having the best cookies ever, to the big things, like all being in the right place at the right time to be there when she needed us most. Whatever the miracles, we saw them. Sadly, I've started to be blinded to them again. I knew it would happen, life takes over, and days turn into weeks, and before you know it, months have passed. We were all living in a cocoon of small miracles for those 6 weeks, and lived and breathed to see a miracle every day. Now, it's just a matter of making it through the day.

So I've decided to reinstate the Spiritual Aardvark Theory in my life. I need to start looking for those miracles every day. I need to see it in my kids, in life around me, and most of all, in myself. I need to have the courage to make it over this hump and to embrace the miracles that I am entitled to. That we're all entitled to. I need my eyes opened to the gifts that are all around me. I need to see that life has a meaning beyond the hurt and pain I feel now. Any ideas are welcome, but mostly, just a big thanks to all of you for reading this. I know, it gets all blah blah blah, but it helps my brain.

Birthday Girl

Today is Maggie's birthday. She's 5. I can't believe that I have kept a human being alive for 5 years. Some things we love about Maggie are:

She is always crafting. She loves to cut and paste, and color and draw, and sing and dance and dress up.

She is very smart. She had an evaluation done for her speech class. She scored the highest possible points. She gets that from her mother. ;)

She is very, um, shall we say, determined. She knows what she wants, and she will do whatever it takes to get it. She gets this from Sugar Daddy.

She has a special affinity for Nunn Bee. Nunn Bee is my mom's mom, who died before Maggie was born. Yet somehow, Maggie knows all about her. Especially that Nunn Bee gave her all that hair she has. I love that they share old souls.

She is very independent. She will climb on counters and chairs and stools if it warrants getting something she's after. This is a trait I love.


So Maggie, I love you. You are very special. I know you chose to come to our family because you knew you'd be happy here. You have a very special spirit, and have a definite sense of right and wrong. Thank you for being so sweet and kind. You are a wonderful daughter!

Untitled

Wow. Today is quite the day. It's a Sunday, which is not a usual blogging day for me. But today, today I have to write. There are just too many words in my head, and let's face it, it gets crowded in there with the voices.

Today is my mom's birthday. She'd be 60. I miss her. A lot.

Today is also Conference Sunday. She loved Conference Sunday. She would cook turkey dinner, and we would meet up at her house to eat between sessions. It was the best.

17 years ago today, she and my dad were returning home with my brother from his mission to Japan. And guess what? She made sure Jill knew how to cook the turkey dinner so it would be ready for us when they arrived home.

1 year ago today we were enjoying our last "girls trip" to Seattle. We had the best time. The underground tour, the locks cruise, and Ruth's Chris. We practically had to wrestle my mom to the ground to get that bill away from her. But we did it, and it was the least we could do to show our appreciation. I would wrestle her to the ground in a second now, if i could.

I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that all of these events circle around this date. I find it strange that this has always been a special weekend for our family, even back 17 years. I know it will be comforting to hear our Prophet speak each year, around her birthday, and know that the words he and his disciples say will bring comfort to me. The last few days have been very emotional because of the anticipation of this weekend. I've had my share of anxiety attacks, pity party, and crying during dinner. But now, now I know that I have the knowledge and keys to see her again. And that makes this weekend even more special.

And I will be making a turkey dinner in her honor. Yams and all. And I will do it every conference Sunday, just like she did.

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you. I miss you.

Blogiversary

It's been 3 years.

1 new kid,
1 new house,
1 cross country move,
1 death,
Lots of good times.

Happy Day To You

Hey, did you hear?

It's MEG'S BIRTHDAY!!!

She's 27.

She rocks.

So head over to her blog and wish her a happy day.

7 Crazy Things

I've been tagged, as have so many others. Here goes nothin'.

1. I'm afraid of a lot of things. Tap water. Fruit. Eyeballs and Toenails. The dark.

2. I have issues with my sheets. The bottom sheet has to be taut. The top sheet cannot be pulled up too high. And then there's the whole thing with my pillow. I buy a new pillow every couple of weeks. No kidding. Ask Sugar Daddy. They can be the cheap ones, I prefer those actually. And if anyone, especially Sugar Daddy lies on my pillow, it grosses me out. The "head smell" on my pillow of another person is so disgusting. It must be all those years of doing hair.

3. I tend to be a bitch. Not really, but I'm a little shy (oh, ha ha, I know, but really, I am), and I think people mistake it for being a snob or something. After they get to know me of course, they know I'm a bitch, so it's okay.

4. I don't like to fly. This causes a problem with living across the country from my favorite people in the world. It's a very...long...drive.

5. I have a strangely low butt crack. You know how girls will wear low rise pants, and sometimes the butt crack is right on the precipice? Not mine. It's weird. But I'm grateful.

6. I can do the splits. I can do them 2 ways now, and if I'm really warmed up, I can still do the middle splits as well. It's freaky.

7. I produce freakish amounts of ear wax. There are times when just randomly a big chunk of wax will fall out of my ear. If I use a Q-Tip, which is rare because I've been reprimanded several times about putting anything smaller than your elbow in your ear, when I pull it out, it is covered in wax. It is seriously so gross. But what can a girl do?

So there you go. 7 of the countless things about me that are strange and wonderful. Now you know me better than you ever hoped you could. You're welcome.

I tag: KELLI and MEG, so they will have a good excuse to update their blogs, finally! JILL, NIKKI, KATHIE, and HEIDI, because I think they don't have enough to do all day so they need this to keep them busy.

So Exciting

Gretta is definitely my silly girl. She is full of spunk, and isn't afraid to show it. She dances like the white girl she is, and doesn't back down to mean neighbor boys that try and steal her milky.
She also likes to find strange and new places to hide. The latest has been sitting inside my desk drawer. She barely fits. But she manages to climb on in, and make herself right at home. I caught her the other day, and she is showing me her "excited" face. It reminds me of the mask from "Scream".

Cuff Me, Part Dos

As I exited Kindermusik, which Gretta absolutely loves, I lingered a while in the parking lot chit chatting with Dubya and J-Lo. We had lots of stuff to catch up on, as we always do, but mostly we were waiting for Lil' Jo to settle down, since I was apparently ripping him away from his mother's womb while she visited the dentist later that day. It's always such an awkward situation when you know you're a perfectly capable babysitter, but for some reason, the kid just doesn't want to believe you, and cries and cries, and the mom gives you that look, like, "are you sure you're okay with this?" . I was totally okay with taking him, but he just didn't want to leave. I don't blame him, she's an awesome mom, she bakes things like German Chocolate Cake Bars, and Ribs and Red Beans and Rice, and Home Made Rolls. I make things like McDonalds Chicken McNuggets, so really, there's no comparison. I should get to my point or this post will be a freaking novella.

So we sat there, chatting in the parking lot, and a Park Ranger Police car pulls up next to my van. I instantly start making smart ass comments to Dubya and J-Lo about how he "found them out" and "oh, now they're hauling you in". I'm so funny. This is when Mr. Park Ranger approaches and knocks on my window. I unroll it just enough to speak through, thinking for some reason he knows me, or knows Sugar Daddy, or something. He asks me to "step out of the car, ma'am." Uh, okay.

So out I go, still thinking in the back of my mind that this is some sort of practical joke, or that Ashton has finally decided to Punk me. He then asks for my Driver's License and Proof of Insurance. I supply his request as quickly as I could, all the while giving off an air of "okay Ashton, I'm totally on to you". He then proceeds to tell me that he has it on good authority that someone saw me pull in to the parking lot, park, leave, and return a short time later. In that frame of time, someone hit the back of his Police Car, breaking off the attached bike rack. He wants to go ahead and do a paint match test, since he has silver to black paint transfer on the offending piece of broken bike rack. I tell him to go ahead, but I never left the parking lot, I pulled in and stayed the entire hour. Besides, it's freaking Kindermusik, there are approximately 319 minivans in the parking lot, 74 of which are silver*.

He starts trying to match up the bike rack with the various dents and scratches** in my van, none of which really match. Then he asks how far away I live. "Like 5 minutes," I say. "How many vehicles do you own?" he asks. "Three", I say. "So, it would be feasible for you to have hit my car, left the scene, driven home, and returned in a different vehicle?" Hmm. I guess I had never really thought of that. Me being the smart ass that I am, start popping off a little. "Well, considering one of my vehicles is a 1949 blue Chevy truck that doesn't run, that's not an option. And the other one is a lifted Dodge truck, so it would have done a lot more than just a little bike rack damage." I'm so funny. Again. He doesn't think so. Finally, he gets it. I'm not his man. I have witnesses to my whereabouts. There is no evidence. He countenace softens and he proceeds to tell us that now it's a felony hit and run, blah blah blah. At this point, it just barely has hit me that I was pretty dang close to being hauled off to the slammer. Now that would have been a good story.

* I may have embellished that statistic a little.
** There was an incident in which I was trying to back out of the snow covered driveway, across the snow bump the plow leaves. I went for it full force, almost made it, and then hit right into both garbage cans that had been placed right in my blind spot. Whose fault is that? Mine? The snow plow's? Sugar Daddy's? The jury's still out. There are also a few scratches from someone, ahem, not me, backing into the garage and not realizing they weren't pulled in far enough before closing the garage door.

Singing In The Rain

It rained yesterday. Usually after a rain storm like yesterdays it gets humid and muggy. This particular day it cleared up and got cold. As in we could feel Fall in the air. And it felt good. I think I'm ready.

This morning I awoke from a good, deep sleep. I was refreshed and ready for the day. This is unusual for me, since I am not generally a morning person. More unusual than that, was the fact that I awoke singing Michael McLean's "Together Forever". A sign? I hope.

Thanks, Mom.

In Which I Liken The Gospel Unto Vampires

You may or may not know that I, too, am now entrenched in the Twilight book series. I read all 4 of them, sans The Host, in a little over a week. But I guess The Host isn't really in the series, so that goes without saying. But I digress. My Mom had just died, and I needed a little distraction. Still living at Chateau Clayton, and enjoying the fact that Gretta thinks Grandpa lives and breathes for her happiness, I took full advantage of my down time and gobbled up book after book. Don't worry, I'm not giving you the reviews. I certainly don't put it up there as "literature" in the classic sense, but it occupied time that might otherwise have been spent crying. Or worse, stuffing my face with chocolate.

Yesterday in RS, Dubya taught our lesson. She's so wonderful. She even had a cellist to add some spiritual punctuation to her lesson. As we are learning about the Principles of the Gospel, it comes up that new members are especially in need of support from the other Ward members. They need them there to shore them up when the spiritual high wears off. To help them through the tough times, and to lead them and guide them through the subtle ins and outs of our religion.

This is when I lean next to my neighbor, Shylo*, and say,
"Kinda like the Twilight series, isn't it?"

She responds,
"Did you just refer to Vampires during our lesson?"

I say,
"Yes. Yes I did. You're welcome."

And the door to Hell is opened.

And to think, a reference to Stephenie Meyer during church, and I'm not even in a BYU Ward!


*Shylo and I sat together during Sunday School. When RS started, she asked if she could still sit by me, or if I would get sick of her. I bet it's the other way around now!

This Is Life

I have a killer cold. If I was a man, it would be a "man cold". And if I was motivated at all, I would put a super duper link to the "Man Cold" on YouTube, but you can "Tube" it yourself, cause I'm lazy like that. I fell asleep at 8:00 last night. It rocked. But I still feel like total crap.
*Oh, alright, I linked it. Geez. Now I need a nap.

Gretta is repeatedly trying to wedge herself under my computer chair. With each and every attempt, she bonks her head, hard, on the frame. And yet she continues to try. Tenacious, yes. Mentally ill, possibly.

I have seen Sugar Daddy a total of 15 minutes this week. No, that's a bad thing. See, it's his busy season, getting everything sorted out to different retailers for their Christmas sales. Which means he works at 5AM and gets in just after 7PM. I know I shouldn't complain because it's much harder on him than it is on me, but it's my blog, so I can complain about whatever I want. And tonight he's partaking in the Cubs vs. Brewers game in Milwaukee, so that means he won't be home until after midnight. I don't feel bad for him, though.

Maggie had her first dance class yesterday. Yeah, I'm such a good mom, I forgot the camera.

Emma missed the bus yesterday. Again. So she was late.

Gretta has a fever, a rash, and a limp. This warranted a trip to the ER, but she checked out fine.

My slutty dog has decided it's much more fun to spend the days philandering around the neighborhood than being cooped up in the house with a sick bitchy mom. I rarely know if she's in or out. And to be honest, I don't care anymore.

Oh, and I've been wearing the same pair of denim capris all week. I change my shirt and bra, of course, and my undies, but the pants, they just keep calling my name. I need a new pair. Or pairs.

Feel free to slap the Mother of the Year award right here.

Cuff Me

I'm a little surprised not-a-one of you has made a snarky-ass comment about my "Note to self" of the week.

I'm starting to doubt my readerships attention to blog detail. First no posts, then this? What will I ever do with you!? (And which would come first there, the ? or the ! {?})

I was going to post about it when one of you noticed, because yes, I fish for post fodder.

But since no one did. Fine. You'll just have to wait.

Hmmph.

Music Days

I have the bestest friends ever. I really do. They take care of me.

Thanks to Dubya and her sweet leadership skills, Gretta is getting Kindermusik lessons. I had no idea how fun this class could be. She loves it. And after just one class, she remembers the "Hammer hammer hammer and See Saw See" actions. I'm sure it's because she's a genius, and not because the class is so much fine. Right.

So we're off to music class today.

And tomorrow brings dance lessons for Maggie. I worry because dance is so girly and she's, just, well, probably more girly than even dance lessons could be, if that's possible. She is so excited, she already has her outfit picked out for tomorrow. That kid, honestly.

Okay, People

You may have noticed my "Peeps" list on my sidebar. Many of you that read this blog, and comment, are over there. Because I like to give back, because I'm nice like that. Now. Let's see. I have a dilemma.

People, please. There are many of you, I won't name names, Jill and Kelli, who are featured on my "Peeps", but are no longer earning your spot there. It's been a while since you updated. I mean seriously, I know you have lives and stuff, but I also know you have 5 minutes to grant me the gift of being part of your life.

Lest you think it's just you two, notice that there are many of my Peeps that have slacked in the blog department. I feel like there is just wasted space over there now. And frankly, it gives me less and less to do each day, not having those 10 minutes to check your blog. And I like a full life, so indulge me here.

So please, for the love of Pete,

UPDATE YOUR BLOGS!

or you risk being ostracized to outer darkness, and banished from the list of Peeps. Scary, huh?

Oh, and Happy Birthday, Kelli! Your package is "in the mail", or so they say. No, really, it is.

Possibly TMI

There are few things that can remain sacred after 11 years of marriage, and 3 children. You know what I mean. Of course the marriage itself is sacred, but there is a loss of privacy boundaries that just naturally occurs. It's a comfort thing really. It's not a bad thing. Well, at least not all the time.

But sometimes things happen that should have remained private. Like as in remained private forever. And ever.

Yesterday, a new level of "comfort" took place. It certainly wasn't comfortable for me, but it was for Sugar Daddy, and I'm not sure I'm okay with that.

He went, you know, with the door open! Like as in OPEN! While I was a mere 3 feet away! There aren't enough exclamation points to express my utter disgust. But as he was mid, well, whatever, he said, and I quote, "At least this gives you something to blog about."

Yes. Yes it did. And um, thanks, I guess.

You know...

You know you're old when you can drive around all day without the radio on.

You know you're a cool mom when your reputation as a bitch precedes you.

You know you're white trash when you wish your cheek cavities were bigger to hold more sunflower seeds.

You know you have good kids when they make the right decision, and tell you how good they feel about it.

Ahh, being a bitchy old white trash mom does have it's benefits.

Artsy Fartsy

Yesterday was a beautiful day. Warm, at least for this part of the country, and dry, and thanks to Sugar Daddy and his genocide skills, relatively bee-free. That alone could be a post, but I'm more apt to show pictures today. It's been a while, and I've been reprimanded by Kelli who insists I show more pictures of Gretta. Your patience has been rewarded.

Is it just me, or did those first sentences sound all smart and stuff? Wow, 'nuff a dat. Moving on.

Kate had a great idea, and we decided to go ahead and do it right on my driveway. She bought the kids some blank canvases (canvii?) and brought out the paints. The kiddos went all crazy with the cheez whiz and whipped up some real masterpieces.


Maggie showing off her mad skills. She loved doing the dots, and just couldn't stop herself.


And here you go. If I had Photoshop, or the desire to even learn Photoshop, I would totally turn that can into a PBR. Or, more appropriately, Miller Lite. This is Miller country, or so I hear.


My little G. She is so dang sassy. You should see that girl strut her stuff. When she gets going, those arms go swinging, and that diaper shimmies side to side. It's hilarious. One of these days I'll catch it on video. Cause I know you're dying to see one more mom show off how adorable she thinks her kids are. But mine really are. Really.

Anyway, that's it for today. I know I was supposed to do Fun For Friday, and highlight a Noorda Notable, but since I missed a day posting, I thought I better do a make up day. Maybe I'll surprise you with a post tomorrow. I know! Can you imagine? Me, posting on a Saturday? Crazy talk! Since Sugar Daddy is working all day, I may just have to make time and put up a funny little Notable. Are they really that funny? They are to me. Maybe not to anyone besides my family, but at least it gives the rest of you insight into why I am the way I am.

Later!

White Girls

A few weeks ago, we attended the Latin Festival in Chicago's lovely downtown. I love the city. I would totally live in the city, waterfront of course, if I didn't think my kids would be the whitest girls around, or have the possibility of being one of 27 Public School students shot this year. Really, 27. So far. And school's been in, what, like 4 weeks? Damn guns.

But here are my chica's. They were loving the festival. They loved the music, the food, and the Manzanita Sol. In fact, Emma hounded us to buy some for a week afterward. She has good taste, what can I say.

After the festival and all the appreciation that comes from people watching, we headed over to the Shedd Aquarium. We have a season pass, so we thought we'd swing in for an hour or two before we headed back to the parking garage. As an aside, did you realize ( I did not) that it costs $25 a day (!) to park in the downtown area? Crazy! While watching the Kimodo Dragon to make it's move on the strategically placed prey, I had a little anxiety moment. Too.Many.Strollers.And.Kids.In.Baby.Bjorns! Really, they have that stupid petrified dinosaur looking thing in a room the size of my closet, and they expect us to enjoy that experience? I guess it's a good thing the aquarium is remodeling this winter. So needless to say, after that I needed a dose of serious medicine, so off to Baskin Robbins it was. Ah, serenity. Doesn't that word remind you of Fergie's "Big Girl's Don't Cry"? Me too.

So that's it for today. And yesterday, apparently. Man, I can't remember the last time I was too busy to sit and blog for a minute. I guess I should start taking advantage of the post-date posting option, huh? I'm hoping to get my camera battery charged up, and put up some wicked cute pics of a new little bizzeenass I have going with neighbor Kate. We are just so darn creative, it's scary.

I Haz Skillz

If you thought that my skills were limited to, say, crafting, blogging and word craft, you are sadly mistaken. It seems I have a new title under my belt. One that I'm not sure I should tout, but what the Heck, why not?

Thanks, Kate.

Dang, That's Early

5:00 AM

On a Saturday.

This better be good.

Did you see what time it started? You didn't?

8:00 AM

On a Saturday.

What place in line do you think we were?

Fun For Friday

Let's begin this weeks Notable with a little preface. More into family history, which I know you are super excited about.

My Dad has a little bit of a wild streak in him. And I use the word "streak" lightly, here. It's so funny to me that a prude like my mom was never corrupted by him. No, she wasn't. Nope. No way. But oh boy, between my dad and his streak, Stevie and her antics, and Fred egging them on, there was no hope! For many, many years I was told that certain things were off limits to kids. The Hot Tubs at Lava Hot Springs. The Lake Powell beaches after sunset. I'm sure there are more, but I just can't remember right now. Of course, now I understand why we had been told these places were off limits, they had the right idea keeping us away! But once in a while, every so often, my dad would shed his protective skin, and "show some hair", and we would see more than we wanted. Many times Stevie was right behind him at the shoreline, waiting for him to take off skiing into the distance, and at the exact right moment, down go the drawers. I don't think this ever caused him enough anguish to even bother pulling them back up for a few minutes. So thanks to Nikki, here is another Noorda Notable. Enjoy.


Notable: Who can forget the many FULL MOONS we were privileged to see on our many water skiing trips. Full moons do look best over the water you know. Do you remember or were you to young and not easily impressed? (If you need a memory jog ask the fam) I believe I witnessed my first full moon of this variety in the presence of your family. (Oh, and can't forget the presence of Stevie and FRED)

Can anyone say HIT IT!!

For Today

Today's post can be seen over at the Cancer Sucks blog. It's just so much easier to add a link than it is to copy and paste. So click on over, and enjoy.

Mamma, Mia

My mom, she was the bomb. I still hate saying "was", by the way. But she really was. I guess a couple of weeks ago, a family friend, Perry Montoya (doesn't that totally make you want to say "my name is Perry Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die"?) That was a lot of punctuation right there at the end, wasn't it? I hope it was correct. Anyway, he called and said for Bingham High School's 100th anniversary, they wanted to put up a display of my mom's old Minerette clothes. Minerettes are the drill team for those of you uninitiated in the BHS-speak. She was Minerette president her senior year. She was very proud of that.

So the display is up, in all it's glory, in the Alumni room. If you're in the vicinity, swing on by and take a looky look. Also, be sure and check out Troy's mullet in the class of '89 SBO picture. He's a total ladies man, right Larissa? I think Jill has a pretty good legacy there as a cheerleader and a songleader, although I'm still not positive as to what the difference was. I, on the other hand, left a legacy of, well, zilch. Not a fan of the high school days. I was a gymnast and a diver, but then I figured out that a cool car and big boobs made life much easier than being athletic. Totally missed the whole "prepare for your future now" lesson in Humanities. Oops. Then there's Meg, the traitor. The first of the Brown family legacy not to graduate from BHS. But she paved her own road, and for all the right reasons. She still does that same thing today when it comes to life, so good for her. We love her anyway. So there you have it. Just because I know you were dying to know my family and our High School legacies. You're welcome.

Sucker Practice

Emma gets to play sucker, I mean soccer, again this year. She loves it. She really does. Me, not so much. I have such a deep appreciation now for all those years my mom sat through gymnastics meets, and swim meets, and diving meets, and cheerleading camp, and softball games, and even church volleyball games. I remember thinking that she probably had nothing else to do, so I felt like I was doing her a favor by getting her out of the house. How wrong I was.

Games aren't so bad. I enjoy the "competition" of it all. If you can call a group of girls swarmed around the ball laughing until they get their chance to kick it once a competition.

But the practices. Oh, the practices. Wow. Where to begin? First of all, the field we practice at is at an elementary school almost 30 miles away from our house. At 6:00 PM. Which means with traffic it takes us almost an hour to get there. Once we get there, we have to park. Usually a spot is around, but then there's the walk to the actual field. I kid you not, it is another 10 minutes. And mind you I'm pushing a stroller, carrying a diaper bag and a purse, Maggie usually has some sort of toy or blanket, we have to bring coats now, and what else? Oh yeah, the bulk of this 10 minute walk is through the mud. Stroller+Mud=Bad, bad things.

So by the time we actually make it to practice, I have had it. But we still have an hour to kill. And I use "kill" lightly. Last night, I don't think Gretta stopped screaming. You all know it, the Pterodactyl squeal she does. It's so pleasant. I'm sure it doesn't bother the other parents one bit. So we started walking the track around the field. Maggie takes off running, and takes a full on header onto the pavement. Blood, screams, and fat lips later, both kids are crying. What can I do? I laugh it off as one of those moments that is so going on the blog. And here it is. I keep my word.

I do love that Emma loves soccer. She is very talented. And I know she is healthy and happy. I guess in the scheme of it all, that's what really matters. So I'll continue my trek to practice every Tuesday night, and I'll do it with a smile, because that's what my mom did, and that's how it should be done.

And just so you know what kind of day it's gonna be at my house, I found a booger (not my own) on my mouse this morning. Yep, a click and stick kind of thing. Nice.

Veggie Tales

Many of you may or may not know of my fear of veggies. One type in particular. I am very afraid of raw tomatoes. Raw tomatoes are the bane of my existence. Okay, I may be exaggerating a little here, but it's mostly for effect, so cut me some slack. But seriously, they frighten me. The smell, the texture, the feel, it all just makes me cringe, and gag a little.

Yesterday we (neighbor Kate and FFU* Noel) decided to take the entire bushel of tomatoes I bought and make Mom's salsa. I needed their help, mostly to deal with the raw tomatoes. But due to kid issues, running to and from school, naps, and pooping, I ended up having to deal with the tomatoes for a time. I came to one conclusion: they look like testicles. You may realize this is the second time in about a month that I've referenced testicles. Maybe I'm obsessed (Sugar Daddy wishes!) or maybe I just have a sick mind. Let's just say I'm not obsessed, so make your own assumptions.


So we went from these beauties

To these beauties in only 8 short hours. Granted, there are these couple of dozen, and the other few dozen Noel and Kate took. But how cute are these jars? I just fell in love with them as soon as I saw them. I drove an hour each way to get them, and they were worth every penny. They are made by Weck, and the clips just did it for me. I think Sugar Daddy was a little miffed at the cost, but what the hay, it was worth it.


And after all that work, we all felt like this. Poor G, she was just done. She literally fell asleep where she was playing. Poor little thing. She slept here on the kitchen floor for over an hour while I closed up all the jars. Honestly, it was kind of nice to not have her tugging at my pants and pulling them down. Apparently she was a little sleepy. Plus, she didn't feel good. Obviously.

So now it's chips and salsa all around. And fajitas. And tacos. And enchiladas. And anything else you can pour home made salsa over. Yummy.

*FFU- Friend From Utah. Noel and I knew of eachother in High School, but weren't close friends. She was a year older than I. At our first week in our new Ward here, she tracked me down, and ever since then we've been fast friends. The Lord definitely works in mysterious ways.

Tickle, Tickle

I love my back tickled. So, so much. So much, in fact, that I've been known to beg Sugar Daddy to tickle me through an entire movie. Luckily he likes to tickle my back. Okay, I know he doesn't like it, per se, but he does it, so whatever.

I blame Stevie for my love of tickling. When I was a kid, we used to go boating all the time. Sounds like fun, huh? Well, me being the anxiety ridden child that I was, I was scared to death of the boat. And the wind. And the clouds. And I could go on and on. But alas, Stevie was there to comfort me. She would let me ride in their boat, sit on her lap, and she would tickle my back while we cruised along the shores of Lake Powell. So obviously I've related this act to being safe and relaxed. Which makes perfect sense when paired with a spouse, right? Right. Enter Happy's Body Trip back "massager". Totally not a massager. More like the best tickling machine ever! Seriously, this thing is like 100 fingernails all at once! I was in heaven through all of Michael Clayton. And considering it was a good "thinker" of a movie, it was definitely worth it's weight in copper.


And of course, since they were positioned right together on the end cap, we had to endulge in the Head Trip, too. Very nice. Very niiiice.

Funky Funk

Here I sit, adorned in my super sexy sweats, and my "CANCER SUCKS" T-shirt.
I indulged today in a little retail therapy in an attempt to make myself feel better. I raided Sephora, and scored some seriously crazy mad samples. I made home made pizza, bought an entire bushel of tomatoes, a gazillion other items of produce and cute imported German canning jars, and still I feel the funk setting in.

I think most of it has to do with the fact that I'm currently watching Stand Up For Cancer on EVERY.SINGLE.CHANNEL.

S∆4C

And really, it kind of pisses me off.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all about having a cause. Hell, I still wear my CS T-shirt to the bus stop every morning. I even wore a yellow wristband for a while. But when suddenly you realize the empowerment is all for naught, it seems so, well, naught. Donate your money, people. Please do. But then don't come crying to me when your mom dies anyway.

Okay, I didn't mean that last part. You can still cry. But doesn't it seem so shallow? Do any of those "celebrities" even know what a real battle is? Have they had their liver shut down? Have they turned ugly shades of yellow? Have they been so weak they can't even lift their heads? I doubt it. So don't give me this literal song and dance and ask for help when not one of them gave a crap about us when our mom was dying.

I'm done.

Friday Fun

Okay, I feel like I need to indulge my grief a little here. It's almost like I can ignore it for a few days, but then it ambushes me, and I get completely overwhelmed. So in the interest of my mental health, I've decided to turn Friday Fun into a version of memory and laughter.

I will be highlighting Nikki and her Noorda Notables. I have no idea where she keeps these memories, because most of them had been long forgotten and stuffed away in the basement of my brain. So thank you, Nikki, for giving me a day of posting without much thought, but still conjuring up wonderful memories of my family. You're saving my sanity, and possibly my marriage! *don't read too much into that, you know who you are. there is no divorce action going on, so spare the rumor mill already.

Get on with it!

Way back when...about 24 yrs ago we had a combined YMYW activity where we were all given tickets to spend at booths in a carnival atmosphere. Away we all went spending our tickets on games etc. There were booths relating to scriptures and other gospel related things, pfft, who wanted to visit those. :) Well after a time the lights flashed and thunder sounded and the stage curtains opened up and there sat three men in white, Judgment Day! We were judged by our number of tickets, then divided into degrees of Glory. If you were sent to outer darkness you encountered Danny. It was....a dark classroom with no windows (the one that used to be by the bathroom), Electric Heaters and Flyswatters. Yes dark, heat and if you talked you were hit with a flyswatter. What should have been He** was actually so much fun, how can you not have fun being swatted with a flyswatter by Danny! :) Those of you who dont remember this probably made better use of your tickets than I! :)

Mom's Day Out

I thought after the kid got in school, it would be all naps and Wal-Mart for me.

I was so very wrong.

Turns out, I have to spend just about as many days in school as Emma does. Lucky me. Yesterday was one of those days. Now, don't go and think that I have to go sit with her in class (like my mom did with me until 4th grade) or anything crazy like that. It seems I have turned over a new leaf, and have finally overcome my social phobia. So now I get to volunteer in Emma's class every week. That was yesterday. Yesterday was also Maggie's first day of Speech Therapy. That's also at a school. A different school. So that made 2 schools in 1 day. Whew.

I know, I know. Some of you with 10 kids are like "Lady, what are you bitching about? Wait until you have to do PTO at 3 different schools, football, cheerleading, FHA, and VICA all in the same day!". I completely agree. You definitely have it harder than I.

But it's my blog, so I can bitch freely.

FYI, I also went to the library yesterday. I felt very Collegiate. Or maybe more Elementary. Whatever.

But for those of you wondering, thank you, Maggie's speech went well. Of course her intelligence is not an issue, she takes after her mother, but it's always good to see it on paper. She has a lot to say, it's just a matter of getting the words out correctly. And what did I do as soon as we left the school? Picked up the phone to call my mom. Again. Do you think I'll ever quit?

Craftay

Remember that fabric I posted the other day? (insert link to past post here, but I'm not doing it cause I'm lazy like that).

Looky at what I made.

I totally jacked this pattern off some lady's booth at Quilted Bear. It was super easy, and took only a few hours to make. This one is for Gretta, but it was supposed to be fore Maggie. Apparently that whole "measure twice, cut once" saying is true. Who knew! So there will be one for Maggie to follow shortly in the cutest brown and pink paisley with a brown polka dot ruffle and a brown and pink flower ruffle. I know, you can hardly stand it. Maybe I should start sewing in the middle of the night, huh? I could probably enhance all the girls' wardrobes sufficiently.