Sunday, December 27, 2009
I hope everyone is enjoying their holiday weekend as much as we are. My house and my heart are full.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Anyone who reads this blog should be counting their blessings that there hasn’t been a real post here for weeks. I have been in a world class funk. So funktastic, in fact, that I became officially sick to death of myself. Like an annoying houseguest that has stayed waaaay past their expiration date. I needed to pack my bags and hit the road before I lost my cool and said things that really hurt my feelings. Err...something.
But no longer. I have conquered the funk. And do you know what finally did it for me? I got some freakin’ cash and went SHOPPING. (If you were hoping for a quaint little story about how I learned to count my blessings and therefore discovered the true meaning of the Holidays you’ve got the wrong blog. I’m just sayin…) Retail therapy baby.
Ok. So let’s just face it. Being broke at Christmastime sucks rocks. Y’all know by now that I am no big spender. And I can definitely craft myself into a Happy Ho-Made Christmas. So lets not roll our eyes or make any “this is the year of cutting back” judgments just yet. But let’s just say, hypothetically, that you DID spend a lot of time creating very meaningful and personal gifts for the ones you love, and then your cars died and your window broke and you couldn’t afford to go buy a new printer cartridge so that you could turn those lovely jpegs into thoughtful handicrafts. Let’s just say that. That is NO FUN. Boo hiss!! Especially when this was the year you really wanted to go to the Nutcracker. And this year you wanted to get the kids their own art easel, even though they didn’t ask for it. And this was the year you had some other really cool gifts for deserving individuals all planned out. And, OH. BY THE WAY. This was the year you SAVED $700 FOR CHRISTMAS. (And thank goodness you did, because you needed it for other stuff.)
Le sigh. God and the universe have wanted me to learn a lesson this year. This much I know. I am still really confused about exactly what that lesson is, however. Not because I am thick headed. But because I am usually pretty darn good at remembering the true meaning of Christmas. And because I am not one to get all caught up in holiday stress, except for THIS YEAR, which has been the most stressful holiday season ever. EVER.
And by the way, my 5-year-old could give a crap about all that. In her own words, she “doesn’t want to go to Church School to learn about baby Jesus anymore. [She] just wants Santa to bring her a pogo stick!”
(Don’t worry. We talked about that…)
Ahem. So. Anyhoo…I got a little bit of cash last week and was able to get the things I really needed for Christmas day. Nothing extravagant. But Santa will be stopping at our house after all. If you’re a parent, and that didn’t just make you go “whew!”, then you are a much more enlightened being than I.
I’m not telling you this because I want pity or accolades or anything like that. I just want to say that I know this is a tough year for a lot of people. We are certainly counting our blessings, even as we feel ourselves stretched thinner and thinner. The fact that I can stress out over Christmas presents is a luxury.
But there are also realities that we are all dealing with. We don’t want to let down our kids. We want to create and keep some traditions alive. It’s expensive to put a holiday feast on the table. And maybe this one gets the shallow award, but you don’t really want everyone on the planet to know that times are tight. (Um…k…don’t get a blog.)
I say there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s totally O.K. to be frustrated and feel a little Grinchy about all of it.
But you really can’t turn into a mega Beyotch and be evil to your husband and children. At some point you have to snap out of it. If retail therapy isn’t an option, I also advocate eating a batch of sugar cookie dough while you put together Christmas playlists for your blog. Or driving your kids around to look at Christmas lights and teaching your toddler to go, “Oooooh!” and “Ahhhhh!” at the really Grizwald-y ones. Speaking of, watching Holiday Vacation with some eggnog is highly recommended too. And to chase the last of those blues away I suggest a little sledding on a golf course in central Idaho.
I’m back. Bring on the Fa la la la la’s.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Pizza, chips and salsa, turkey, pumpkin cheesecake, crab stuffed fillet, cookies, gravy, smoked salmon, lemon pie, leftovers, egg nog chai lattes, egg nog pancakes, bacon, wine...
Stuffed. Me. I think I will just eat celery for a few days. I mean, tomorrow. When I can think about food again without wanting to curl up in the fetal position.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
I’ll start at the bus stop. I’m standing on the corner watching Sweet Pea and her friend run up the sidewalk after school. They are shouting to me, “She won!” and “Mama! I won this at school today.” She has a little brown piece of paper in her hand. But I was at her school for all but 15 minutes of her day. What is she talking about?
When they get to me Sweet Pea hands me an envelope from Hastings Book store. It has, “Manners Quiz - $15” written on it. She says, “Mom, I won the Manners Quiz!”
Oh, right. I remember walking the halls that morning and seeing all the older kids dressed in button up shirts and ties, or sparkly dresses (presumably from last Christmas.) Today was the manners lunch.
“You did! That’s great!!” I am so happy for her. Just a few days before we had filled out a multiple choice manners quiz, and I had been so proud of her! Not just because she got all but one answer right on the first try, and without help from me. But because she had – also without assistance – remembered which letter the correct answer was, and circled A, B, C, or D without having to ask which letter was which. And then, she had found about half the words in the word search puzzle on her own too. Man, we have come so far in 3 months!
“What did you win honey?”
“I’m the winner Mom! The little card fell out of this envelope. But I WON. And I got a high five from the principal.”
“Wait. What? The little card…Oh…”
“And Mom, I got to have my picture taken with 3 other kids for the school newsletter.”
“Honey, the little card is the money part. That’s the prize. Do you know where you lost it?”
“I showed it to Willie on the wall, and then when I got on the bus the card was out. Mom, I’m the winner!!”
“So maybe it’s in the grass outside your school? Let’s get in the car and go look.”
Did I do a good job conveying that she did not give a rip that she lost her prize? Because I have yet to mention the crushing disappointment I felt over her losing it. I am thinking of all the books she would have loved to buy with the $15. She is looking at an empty envelope like it’s the World Cup. I am wondering if I should secretly replace the gift card. She is wondering if she can have the envelope framed and displayed proudly in the living room.
So we got in the car and went to her school to look in the grass. No luck. We left a note in the office. Asked a bus driver to put an APB out to the bus company. Checked her cubby. Checked her backpack one more time. Nada. I was so sad.
She did not care even a little tiny bit.
On the way home I remembered something she said. “Uh, wait…did you say you got your picture taken for the school newsletter?”
Mental flashback. 11:15 AM. We are late and I am trying to get the kids out the door so we can drop Will off at Grandma’s in time to make it to her school so that I can set up for my Art Mom lesson. Sweet Pea comes down the stairs sporting her signature style…Bag Lady Chic. Tan pants, black turtleneck, pink floral print tunic, and the 5-year-old Disney Princessified version of Sorrel snow boots. The effect is very Napoleon Dynamite. It’s questionable whether or not she has combed her hair at any time in recent history.
On another morning I would have marched her back up stairs for at LEAST some tangle spray and different shoes. But today we do not have the luxury of being cute. Today is Art Mom day. (And I look cute. So, you know, whatever.)
Sooo…All the kids at Sweet Pea’s school were sporting “grade school formal”, while Sweet Pea looked like she might be an escaped mental patient. Of COURSE she got her picture taken for the school newsletter! And sandwiched between the kids who won the best dressed prize no doubt. Also, an adult gave my 5 year old $15, but didn’t make her put it in her backpack until she got home. Brilliant. And she is smiling like a starlet at the Oscars who just keeps saying, “I’m just so happy to be nominated!”
That’s it. I want to be 5.
Good news. The secretary at her school called to let me know that someone found her gift card and turned it into the office. And I picked out her clothes today. All’s well that ends well.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Sweet William has a cold. A cold that by day has been no big deal. No fever. No unusual crankiness. He doesn’t even have green crusty nose. (Thank you Jesus!) But at night it morphs into this horrendous bronchial nightmare that results in a hacking cough, crying, moaning, sleeplessness…Its awful! The night before last I found myself by his bed at two o’clock in the morning tearfully praying that he would be able to get some rest. (And, ok, let’s be honest…me too.)
Thankfully, he did fall asleep. I didn’t hear him cough again until 4:15. He was kind of rustling around, so I lay in bed and waited for him to come into my room for the now standard “snuggle in mom and dad’s bed” before I took him back to his room and the overworked vaporizer. But then it was quiet again. So I sleepily weighed the pros and cons of getting up to check on him. After all, I didn’t want to wake him up. And it was so warm and cozy in my nice big bed…
But then it wasn’t. All of a sudden the air around my face, shoulders, and down one arm got really cold. Really, really, cold. It felt like the French doors in my bedroom had blown open to the night air. Except, that it wasn’t like a gust of air. It was like a heavy blanket of air. And on my face and arm were icy cold hands.
So. As I am want to do in situations like this, I started to pray out loud. The Our Father is kind of my go-to prayer for visits from the spirit world. You never know if you’re going to need that “deliver us from evil” part. And it can’t hurt to offer up a little “hallowed be thy name” either. Then I started to sing this old youth group song I know about stomping on Satan. What can I say? I’m a pessimist.
But then I heard Will coughing again, and he sounded so far away. I totally forgot about being freaked out and jumped out of bed so fast I even surprised my sleepy self. Once I stepped out into the hallway I could hear and see that he was downstairs in our living room with every light in the house on. He was playing with his trains and getting really irritated that his TV shows weren’t on.
So I just said, “Thanks Grandma, I’ve got it from here.” And I did.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Monday, November 02, 2009
We had a fantastic time. It was probably tame by Vegas standards. But on our mommy radar, it pretty much rocked.
We stayed at the MGM and upgraded to a small suite, which was perfect for the 4 of us. We upgraded by joining their Prima program, which was totally worth it. The way it works is that you prepay $500 in room charges, and then you charge against that while you are there. But the perks that come with doing that saved us a bunch of money, and made it so we didn't have to stand in lines for anything at the MGM. We had full concierge service, and even a free limo transfer. So, if you are planning a Vegas trip check out the Prima program! We had no problem spending the $500 by the way...
We ate two great dinners at the MGM. The first night was sushi and yummy saki at Shibuya. The second night was mouth watering Italian at Fiamma. The third night we decided to really tourist it up and had the buffet at Treasure Island, and honestly it was really good and super inexpensive. (Which is kinda what you're looking for on your last night in Vegas...)
Nightlife was a blast. The first night we were in town my friend Becky's husband hooked us up with VIP at all the clubs in the Palms. So we started at Ghostbar where we threw down $11 for a drink and then stood on the clear platform that looks 55 stories down to the street below. I was the only one brave enough to stand in the middle of it! (So I had to jump up and down just to freak my girls out a little...) After Ghostbar we headed over to the Playboy club and watched girls sling drinks in The Bunny Suit, and people with more money than us give it right back to the Casino. And I thought $11 for a drink was expensive!
From Playboy we went to Moon. It was there that we made a startling discovery. First, we are still super cute. That was the good part of the startling discovery. Because the rest of that thought goes, "FOR OUR AGE." Oh man. We are totally in the Cougar category. All our hopes of having suave Vegas mens buy us drinks went out the window when we kept getting hit on by 20 year olds who clearly thought that WE were going to buy THEIR drinks. Damn.
After getting rid of the entourage of Puppies that somehow latched onto us (Picture me pointing my puppy toward a girl in a skanky red dress and saying, "Go talk to her.") we headed down to Rain. That was another lesson in Cougardom. There was a group of guys on the dancefloor wearing giant blonde afro wigs. So we naturally decided we needed to see what that was all about. Turns out they were from New Zealand, and in town for a bachelor party. (Yeah. They spent $1200 and flew 14 hours for a bachelor party. Strippers must not exist in New Zealand?) After about 3 minutes of conversation I found myself giving one of the guys advice about his girlfriend back home. In a very school guidance counselor or you know...MOMish kind of way. Oy.
So much for 40 being the new 30.
But, I suppose that's better than a bunch of drunks thinking they can grope you because they paid for your $11 drink.
The second night we hooked up with my brother and his darling girlfriend at Pure. (Well, half of us did. Two of the girls had tickets to the Justin Timberlake concert. Which they said was fabulous. Natch.) We met at like 11:00. Which is really late when you are a Cougar...err, I mean a Mommy. I thought we were going to fade before our stilettos* gave us our first blister. But something about my brother waltzing in and steering us past the line of 300 people to the double-secret-extra-VIP line gave us a second wind.
*I should just mention here, that we looked really good. I mean, REALLY good. The whole weekend. We vamped it up reaaal nice. I wish I would have taken some pictures of the Vegas Fashion we paraded down the strip. But you know the rules. Although, I guess I am totally breaking the rules by posting a play by play on my blog. Hmmm. Damn. Should have taken pictures of the outfits.
We were in the elevator in Pure when some girl says, "Did you guys know that Sean Kingston is here tonight?" Everyone nodded excitedly. Including me, even though I was totally faking it. Then my brother Alex says, "That's cool. Did you know Alex Golightly is here tonight?" And again, there were nods of excitement. Dork.
As it turns out I do know who Sean Kingston is. Or, at least, when he started singing I recognized the song from my ipod. I'm cool like that. However, he was not the only famous person in Pure that night. We discovered this when an entourage of about 7-8 very, VERY well dressed men walked past us by the bar. I was thinking that you really CAN tell when a guy is wearing a 10K suit, and noticing them noticing me (heh) when my friend Katina said excitedly, "That's Oprah's boyfriend!! That's Oprah's boyfriend!!" Well hello Steadman! Apparently he is appreciative of blondes in catsuits. I'm just sayin...
That night was so much fun. Hanging out with my brother and his friends was sick. (That's good in I-learned-how-to-talk-like-my-younger-brother-who-has-double-secret-extra-VIP-status-all-over-Vegas speak.) We laughed and danced and oops! Drank a lot of Vodka tonics. I should send a fruit basked to his friend Tim who let us crash his table service. THANKS TIM!! And then somewhere around 3:30 we headed home. Yay! We stayed up late and partied like rock stars! Viva Las Vegas!!
The next morning was a little rocky for me. But, HELLO, that's what you get for waking up in Vegas. I rallied. And then I realized that I lost my cell phone. Which was a bummer. But I did find a bunch of random sequins on the floor by my bed while I was looking for it. And that seemed sort of fitting. So I got some McDonalds hashbrowns and powered through.
That day we shopped, and then I napped. WOOO to the HOO for the vacation nap, by the way. Naps are so fabulous. Really. Why do 2 year olds hate naps?? I would love it if someone told me to take a nap every day. Apres nap I was feeling right as rain, so we strapped on our FMP's one last time and headed to Treasure Island for
Mystere. Katina's father in law got us free tickets. We were so excited to go we didn't even care if they were in the nosebleed section. And, bonus, my brother and his lovely lady friend were joining us. So imagine how excited we were when we picked the tix up at will call and realized they were FRONT ROW.
I know, right? This trip was so FUN!!!
It goes without saying the Cirque de Soleil is absolutely incredible. (That's why they get to have 5 different shows around Vegas.) My expectations were exceeded to the Nth power. AMAZING. And, you know, even cooler when the performers are close enough to touch you. I think we all sat slackjawed for the entire performance. I can't wait to take Sweet Pea someday!
It was sad to say goodbye to my brother and Sarah at the end of that night. The next day was all taxis, airport lines, and security screens.
But then I got home to those sweet babies of mine and I remembered why it's nice to get away but even better to come home.
Shaking the glitter off...
Friday, October 30, 2009
Earlier this year the powers that be over at City Waste Management decided that all the citizens of my lil' town would be required to use a handy dandy new wheeled cart for getting rid of their trash. I have been using one of those bad boys for going on 10 years now. So this didn't impact me much. In fact, I am a champion of the wheeled cart. It's reeeeeeeeaaaly big. So no matter how much garbage a party plannin', diaper changin', holiday hostin', yard workin' Clover can create...I only need the one bigass wheeled cart to dispose of it everso neatly.
And, as I am a 35 year old whose triceps are beginning to show some real definition - for reals, there is a little line back there amid the jiggle!! And, as I often have at my disposal not only my husband, but all the neighbor men who I have somehow bossed into doing my bidding, wheeling my bigass cart to the curb has never been a problem. (Unless you consider the fact that I hate to touch garbage cans a problem.)
Howevah. It is only logical that a garbage can the size of a refridgerator might be cumbersome for some of my neighbors. (Especially people like, oh...I don't know...women with no tricep definition. Ahem.)
BUT NEVER FEAR. The Fathers of our fair city have come up with a solution. As spelled out to us in the flier that came with our last trash bill. If you are having trouble getting your cart to the curb, you can call the city and they will arrange for...
Are you ready? Because it's not what you think.
...a high school honot student to make a ONE TIME trip to your house to EXPLAIN TO YOU HOW YOU CAN MOVE YOUR CART MORE EASILY.
Because it's not that your 85 year old Granny needs help moving her 95 gallon trash cart. It's that she is TOO STUPID to understand how to wheel it to the street. So stupid, in fact, that a child will be sent over to give her a garbage can physics lesson.
Um. Yeah...ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME????
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Monday, October 05, 2009
I drove him around a neighborhood that I think he should move to. So everyone cross your fingers and send some "come home" mojo toward Wisconsin.
It was four days of big fun while he was here though. We went to the zoo, the pumpkin patch, the candy store...never a dull moment. I was, in typical fashion, terrible about remembering to USE the camera. But I did get some great snaps at the pumpkin patch. Enjoy!
The first order of business was to find a big hay bale to sit on and watch a pig race. You cannot even believe how cute little pink piggy butts are when they run around a track. Also up for a cute award was the little girl who stole the show when the emcee asked if anyone knew anything about pigs, and she answered, "They are made out of bacon!" Good answer!
Will chowed down on this free sample of cotton candy as though he had never eaten sugar before. He was totally trying to play Bompa's heartstrings. Which paid off later at the candy store.
Sweet Pea was a rockstar on the "Jumping Pillow." She didn't even fall down when the GROWN MAN knocked over her brother. As you can imagine, I was irritated. What you probably can't imagine is the level of irritation Mr. G displayed over said grown man being decked out from head to toe in Bronco gear. I am not even sure he knew that the guy knocked over his kid because he was so blinded by the orange and blue.
It is just really too bad that he didn't enjoy his first pony ride at all. I mean, c'mon Will. We're supposed to be having fun here. (Sweet Pea wants you to know that the pony is named Strawberry and the hat is borrowed.)
This pony is named Snowball. And that was all well and good, except for the fact that it wasn't nearly as wonderful as having your very own pony, Pistol. And "why oh why oh why did Papa have to sell Pistol to those other little girls when I could have loved him just as much as they do???" Methinks I'll be hearing about that one for a lifetime.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
And then yesterday she learned to ride her bike without training wheels. And I am all...Waaaaaaah! There is a video that I am desperately trying to post here. Bear with me.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Then again. Maybe that's not a great idea.
And do you even know what is keeping me from unloading the contents of my noggin today?? Steam cleaning my carpets. I mean, really. Could anything be lamer?
I really hate the childless, petless, shoeless, red wineless, souless bastard that invented white carpet. I would kinda like to punch whoever that jerk is in the face right now.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Bake a pie and eat the whole thing
Get a mani pedi
Sit on the couch with my kids and a blanket and watch movies all day
Be able to run 5 miles
Make money creating art
Take guitar lessons
Have a quiet evening alone with my husband
Have a garden
Drink some tea
Go to bed early
Make it to Yoga class
Finish the project I'm working on
Win the lottery
Get all my laundry done
Friday, September 11, 2009
My dad's brother is one of the most interesting and fantastic people I know. I didn't really get that until I was an adult. Go figure. Before adulthood I may have been a little self absorbed...But now that we are all grownups together I am really happy to have my uncle Barry in my life. For starters, he is probably the smartest person I have ever met. And he is funny, and kind, and can play the guitar. Which in my book is a super cool skill. He loves my kids, and hanging out with our family makes him a little schmoopy too. All fabulous characteristics in an uncle/grandfather figure.
His life has been harder than some. Vietnam Vet. Long haul truck driver. And one infamous family story about some questionable vows that lasted less than a month. (But what a great story!!) I think all that has made him a wonderful student of life, and adds to the onion skin layers of his down to earth personality that I love so much.
I am driving his car today while he is in New York with my dad - my grandmother's memorial was yesterday. When I turned on his car This American Life was on the radio. For some reason the fact that he listens ot NPR just endeared him to me that much more.
So here's a hug for you Uncle Barry! Have a safe trip. We missed you for Friday breakfast this morning!!
Saturday, August 29, 2009
I really want one of these. I find that interesting. And somewhat disturbing. It's so...suburbia. But then again, if it lives in a cul-de-sac and drives an SUV...
Mr. G would probably never in a million years be on board with having one of those on our car. And that's probably a good thing. I like how he keeps me edgy. (Bwaahahahahahaha. Heh. Hahahahaha. Sigh. Ok, sorry. Thought I could type it out without laughing. Snort.)
There's something really appealing to me about broadcasting to the entire world that my family is fabulous and so very important to me via some stick people on my back window. Kinda like, "See! See, people in the mall parking lot! I am a MOM and a WIFE and I AM GOOD AT IT!!" Because, lets face it, that last part has come as quite a shock to me.
And I think we make cute stick people. Although that dog is waaaaaay too skinny...
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Check it out! We totally annoyed a famous person! Well, marginally famous. Given that I don't know his name. And he was flying coach on a Horizon Jet from Seattle to Boise, Idaho to play the Western Idaho Fair. But hey. We will take our famous people interactions as they come. Normally I like to klutzily run into famous people. As in, literally RUN INTO them. But we mixed it up this time with a little "toddler on a plane" action. I bet I got at least 6 nasty glances. That is a LOT of looks from a famous dude.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Good weekend in McCall with friends. Lots of laughing and eating yummy things. A few bottles of wine put to their rest. Golf for the big boys. Kids played well together. Great pictures in Charlie's Garden. And, um...Willkindalockedhimselfinmybedroomforaboutanhour.
Ahem. So anyway. Yeah, it was cold up there. Unseasonably. Felt like fall and...Wha? What did I say when? Oh, up there? No big deal. Just, uh, you know. Standard kid gets locked in a room for an hour. Happens to everyone, right? No?
Ok. Well. It was naptime, see. He was so tired. I took him in my room and put him down on my bed. I layed with him and rubbed his back for an hour in a totally quiet house. The conditions were spot on for naptime. No dice. His sister actually volunteered to go lay down for an hour, but the baby was not gonna take a nap. So I put him in the middle of my bed with a blanket and a kiss on the head and left the room.
At first he wasn't very happy about it. Because even though he can get off my bed now, he can't turn the doorknobs to open the doors. But after a minute or two he was quiet and just playing with the dog. I let him chill for a few and then thought I would go back in and get him to sleep. But when I tried to open the door it was locked.
No big deal, right? We have this little allen wrench looking thing that I was told long ago was a key for the inside doors. Well that is the biggest crock of you-know-what ever. Because IT DID NOT WORK EVEN A LITTLE BIT. And let me tell you, when your 1 year old is locked in your bedroom you really want that door key to work.
I was fighting the urge to panic. Given that 1) he didn't seem freaked out in the slightest. And 2) he was, afterall, locked inside a room where there was a big bed just waiting for a little napper...
I tried for about 20 minutes to get him out without making any progress. So I put a call in to Mr. G, who was golfing, and then I started to bake cookies. Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Will played with the dog, and occasionlly stuck his fingers under the door for me to kiss and hold hands with him.
My friend Sandy was even more determined. She fiddled with the key and tried to get Will to turn the lock while I baked. She would say, "Turn the lock Will!" And he would say in a slightly bored and irritated tone, "I DID!"
Occasionally Mr. G would call me from the golf course and say annoying things like, "Have you tried the key?" Or, "Can you find a way to get into the crawlspace from outside the house?" To which I would have to remind him that 1) I am not stupid, and 2) there is going to have to be a much bigger crisis situation before I go down where the spiders live. This is the woods for Pete's sake. The spiders are the size of cats.
So of COURSE all was fine until suddenly it wasn't. I am not sure what caused him to hit his limit. I think that it was kind of a 6th sense type instinct telling him that an opportunity to make Mommy look like a deadbeat was at hand. So suddenly he is crying and screaming and saying, "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommmmmyyyyyy" in that hearbreaking tone and there was not a thing I could do about it. I had already tried just flat out breaking the doorknob off the door, so it's not like I wasn't committed. But I could not get him out.
Just then Mr. G comes leaping over the deck railing (our house is adjacent to the golf course) and flies through the slider. He hears the screaming, sees the baking, and regards me like he is a little unimpressed with my level of calm. He and his buddy Chris start barking orders at each other brain surgeon style. "Pipe wrench! Screwdrivier! Sterile towel!" (Ok, maybe not sterile. This is a STORY afterall.) And in about 45 seconds they have figured out how to pop the doorknob off to get to the lock mechanism.
The door opens, the crying baby runs into my arms, and the SuperDaddies leap back over the deck railing and play the last 2 holes.
And that is exactly how it happened. More or less.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Him: "You are so sweet."
Her: "Really? You don't mean evil?"
Him: "No, you're sweet."
Her: "Sweet like Devil's Food Cake? Or sweet like vanilla ice cream?"
Her: "Sweet like pink cupcake? Or sweet like pink lingerie?"
Him: "I like lingerie."
Her: (Sigh) "I'm not very good at lingerie."
Him: "How do you mean?"
Her: "Well, the last time I went shopping at Victoria's Secret my friends told me the one nightie I liked looked like a drop cloth."
Him: "I like things that drop. You know, to the ground. Like lingerie that drops to the ground."
Her: "You didn't really have to spell it out like that."