Thursday, May 31, 2012

A New Member of our Family

We've welcomed a new member into our family.  Does it have fur?  Why, yes it does.  Does it move around unpredictably?  You betcha.  Does it make a racket?  Sure 'nuf.  Does it stay in its spot when we tell it to?  Surprisingly, yeah.  Does it run into walls and furniture all the time?  Jeepers...yes.

When Dave and I brought it home last night I was gushing in the car.

Me:  "I'm going to love it, and cherish it, and take care of it, and give it a name!!!"

Dave:  Well, he didn't say anything, but he smiled really big-like and all.

We carried it in the door and called the boys to see the surprise.

Little guy:  "I've always wanted one!"

Big guy:  "Awesome!

So, my dear friends, without further ado, I want to introduce you to "Rosie"...our new, amazing iRobot Roomba!

What can I say...we love her!!!!  She's the most amazingest, bestest robot vacuum ever!

P.S. Don't write me and say I lied about the fur...seriously, people, you should check out her canister after she's been at work...alarmingly (and delightfully) furry!

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Dance Like there's no one Watching

After over 20 years, I finally know the signs.  The subtle twitching of his legs, the emerging sway of his hips, the barely noticeable hop in his step...yes, David is about to start dancing.  Now, this is all fine and good when we're at home (for me, anyway, for the boys, it's beyond embarrassing even though there's no one around to see).  But when we're in public, it's my cue to go into "single chick out shopping on her own" mode.

Tonight Dave and I meandered around Bed, Bath, and Beyond looking for some new sheets.  The ones we have are so old that just the simple act of rolling over in bed was ripping them.  It was seriously time to go shopping.  So, we walked through the aisles, found the actual "bed" section of Bed, Bath, and Beyond after having gotten lost in the seriously overwhelming "beyond" part, finally chose some sheets, and started heading toward the register.  Now, I should stop here to explain that Dave and I had each retrieved a 20% discount coupon to display on our phones at the time of purchase...after all we are clever, nerdy, and cheap.  My mom taught me the lie-about-being-related-and-use-multiple-coupons trick as a kid, so I was already in pre-"I don't know Dave" mode.

That's when his "I'm about to start dancing in public" twitches began.

Me:  "Oy."

I maneuvered myself a distance from Dave.  He, of course, detected what I was up to and moved back in my path.  We zigged and zagged all the way to the front, as he shook his groove thang, and got in line. 

Dave:  "My wife disappeared.  She doesn't like my Michael Jackson moves."  Yes, he's talking to the clerk, and, yes, I'm just three feet away.

Clerk:  "Oh..." and some small talk that I couldn't really make out.

They finish their transaction and it's my turn.

Me:  "I have a coupon, too.  And I'm his wife.  We're just trying to work the system."  Full mother would be so disappointed!

Clerk:  "Oh, I would've given you both discounts anyway."

We finish up, having managed to save 20% of a lot, and start toward the door. 

So, nice to find out that Dave and I can stay shopping, discounts, and in health...groovy!  And, yeah, I kind of have to admit that Dave's moves are even better than M.J.'s.  I'm just sayin'!  But please don't tell him.  It only encourages more of this behavior.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Hair Loss

Today a package from Lego arrived in the mail.  It's just a prelude to the robot kit little guy has coming (all part of our "keep him busy" summer plan).  Inside today's package were the parts to make a cute little Incredible Hulk.  And, as growly as its face is, its tininess inevitably makes it adorable.  So, little guy was proudly showing it to me.  I cradled it carefully in my hands, turned it all around, moved its movable parts, and then my little dude decided to do my number one pet peeve these days.  Yes, he gave me a raspberry on my arm.  The perfect storm of moisture, vibration, and cooties.  Ugh!  So, of course a wrestling match ensued.  When we were done (I won, the raspberries stopped...for now, anyway), we looked at the little Hulk.  His black locks were gone!  He was as bald as a Kojak! 

Little guy:  "Mom, you ruined it."

Me:  Visibly rolling my eyes, not hiding that fact. "Let's look for it."

We trace the path of our wrestling match, all through the kitchen and out the carport door, all the while scanning the ground.

Me:  "Hair it is."

Little guy:  "Where?"

Me:  Pointing to a spot right outside the door.  "Right hair."

Little guy:  "You're not funny, mom."

Me:  "Yes, I am."

Monday, May 28, 2012

Seeing Red

I fell in love with cows in Austria when I was 15.  I was able to spend a considerable part of one afternoon just gazing into this particular cow's eyes while it allowed me to pet it gently.  They are the sweetest, most gentle creatures with eyelashes that go from here to the moon.  They're amazing and spectacular.  Now, I haven't had up-close experiences with a cow since (not even to eat one...except for twice about 10 years ago when I was having a mid-life food crisis confusion thing...I got over it).  My only contact these days with cattle are when I'm on a rocket recovery mission for my dad or my big guy.  I have to go over a lot of barbed wire fences and am always on the lookout for cows with possible anger issues.

Well, Dave had an opportunity to go hang out with cows, himself, lately.  Now, that guy, he can think ahead!  He started getting dressed, put on some shorts, socks, shoes, a red T-shirt and checked out his ensemble in the mirror.

Dave:  "Uh-oh."  He pulled the shirt off.

Me:  "What?"

Dave:  "Bulls attack red!"

Me:  "Oh...."

Dave:  "I'm going in saying 'I surrender!'" as he pulled on a white T-shirt.

Yup, my guy, smart and good lookin'!  And I'm wearing white shirts from now on to all rocket launches.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Sock Sorting

We spent over $80 on socks tonight!  Egad zookers, right?  Nothing fancy or anything.  Just athletic socks for each member of our family.  We basically did a "redo" for all of us.  You see, what with Hazel and her dirty sock fetish (I include the words "dirty sock fetish" for the individual who searched on said words and found a previous post of mine...course I want such a person to find my blog again, right?), the typical dryer sock thief, and the general holiness of our wee little pedi outfits, it was time.

Now, with the boys (and I'm including Dave here) all wearing the same size socks these days, laundry sorting is a bit of a nightmare unless you can remember the specific type of sock each person prefers.

Dave = slightly over the ankle, or at the ankle, depending on his preference at the time of shopping (this time it was slightly over).

Little guy = longer socks, but not too long, but not too short either.

Big guy = so short they slink down below the back of the shoe, rendering them invisible.

Me = mine are about like big guy's only smaller (but, believe it or not, I'm constantly finding my little socks in the rest of my family's sock drawers...yeesh!).

Anyway, as soon as we got home I got a Sharpie out and labeled everyone's socks with their first initial.  Yes, just like your parents did for you when you were in pre-school.  Here's to easy, breezy, coconut squeezy laundry sorting from now on.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

That's Ascertainment!

I'm sitting here feeling old. Not because my bones are aching or anything like that. It's just that a young, cutie hipster guy just walked by me and I could see the entirety of his undies. I didn't find it especially pleasing.  I know I should be appreciative of the effort he took in choosing just that special print to share. I know I should understand as I, too, showed my undies when I was that age...not due to my pants intentionally falling off, rather my pants having copious torn and threadbare spots. Happily for this old chick, my husband came up with a definition to a word that explains this very phenomena. Here's what he told me last week.

Dave: "'Ascertain' is entertaining with your posterior...your derriere."

This old girl loves expanding her vocabulary!  And is unsure of her love of ascertainment (unless it's Thong Man, of course).

Friday, May 25, 2012

If I had a daughter, I'd surely play "tea party" with her...

...but I don't, so it doesn't happen 'round these parts.

When I was a kid my favorite book was by Fred Gwynne.  It was called The King who Rained.  It was published in 1970 and I'm sure it made it to a garage sale not long after that, and that's when it likely fell into this homophone lovin' kid.  There was a king on the cover of the book.  He was floating in the air, and that king was sure as heck "raining"!  Love it!  There was a frog in someone's throat, and someone who couldn't talk very loudly and was, in fact, "a little horse".  And don't even get me started with the hilarity of the dad who had a mole on his nose!  This stuff was seriously funny (and still is)!!!  I was also a HUGE admirer of Amelia Bedelia and her awesome adventures.  So, never bad talk her around me, I'm a big fan!

OK, so back to the whole lack of tea parties issue at my place and the problem/need it has burdened me with.  Well, given the fact that I love words that have two meanings, AND given the fact that I do have the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old boy, AND given the fact that I and all teachers in this town are just a tad bugger right now as there are only two days of school left, AND given the fact that I'm seriously tea party must understand that I utterly and completely cracked myself up today when I dangled a used teabag in front of each of my sons faces, let it tap gently on their cheek, and said, "I just tea bagged you!!!!"  (Yes, I did run away...quickly!)  Yeah, you understand, right?  Right?  Uh-oh...I only hear crickets chirping.

Let's pretend this never happened, OK?

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Walk this Way

Got a call from the little guy this afternoon.  I figured I'd answer the call today since I silenced his call yesterday.  Gotta be a decent mom at least 50% of the time, right?

Little guy:  "Mom, will you come pick me up?"

Let me interrupt here to say that the school bus drops him off three blocks from where we live.  Three.

Me:  "No, walk."

Little guy:  "But I'm all stressed out!"

Me:  "Why?  "What's happened?"

Little guy:  "It was the bus ride home."

Me:  "What?  What happened?"

Little guy:  "I'm traumatized!!  The bus got stuck going up the hill to our house."

OK, let me interrupt here again to say that yes, the bus does go directly by our house and yes, it is a big fat drag for him that he's not dropped directly at our door.  Secretly, I'm happy he has to walk a bit.  You know, because I want him fit and healthy and all.  And the hill...yes, it's hilly, but they did make it to the top just fine.

Me:  remaining completely silent...for a while.

Little guy:  "OK, I'm not 'traumatized'."

Me:  "Walk home."

Little guy:  "OK.  You're mean."

I'd say he called just to be annoying, but I know the wonderful person inside that kiddo knew I needed something to blog about and happily he delivered me this.  What a great kiddo...always putting his mom's needs first.

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Sup, bloods?

Had my official "last" visit to my hematologist today.  HUGE shout out to my awesome husband, Dave, who has been my #1 support during all two years of this silly blood clot business.

Anyway, I forgot to tell the family that I wasn't coming home right after work today because I had my appointment.  I texted them, of course, because who wants to have to call three people to tell them all the same thing, right?

Our text conversation.

Me:  "At the clot doctor.  FYI"

David:  "Don't you mean 'clotctor'?"

Me:  "Why yes I do!"
David:  "You can use that."

Me:  "Count on it."

Big guy:  "OK, y r u there?"  (He's fluent in texting lingo, of course.)

Me:  "Test results."

Meanwhile, as the clotctor came in to talk to me, my little guy calls.  I silence the call and got this lovely message after my appointment.

Little guy:  "Hey,'re really mean for not answering the phone...I know you're at some like doctor's office and I just realized that but...never mind...bye."  (He's fluent in Valley Girl lingo, of course.)

I'm just hopping up and down all excited because everyone in my family responded to me!  Woo hoo!  Well, that and, hey, ain't nuthin' wrong with this girl's blood or genetics (except for all that odd quirky stuff that only bothers other people but doesn't bug me, of course).

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Mindless Behavior

So, tonight, Dave and little guy were talking about something I can't blog about.  It's not important to the story, anyway, though it would decidedly liven up your evening.

Dave:  "Hey, your mom doesn't mind."

Dave thinking a bit about what he just said as he looked at me and I returned his gaze over my glasses all defiant and know, like always.  Little guy looking back and forth between the two of us, slight look of disgust spreading to the corners of his mouth.

Dave:  "Actually, you mom doesn't mind at all...ever."  <snarky smile>

Me:  "Yeah, I don't mind anybody!"  <snarky smile back>

Nicholas leaving the room, and tossing a "You're both total weirdos" look over his shoulder, because his parents are, well, weird.  Lucky little guy! family rocks!

Monday, May 21, 2012

When in Doubt, go on Ahead and Freak Out

That's our dog, Hazel's, opinion anyway.  Seriously folks, she's a little on the wacky side.  Took her for a walk tonight.  Totally awesome, but decidedly freaky.  She's been on lots of walks, of course, but this time I walked her down by the back entrance to Barton Springs. 

Our problems started with the exit gate, squealing, I'm sure at frequencies I both could and could not hear.  But Hazel sure could.  That girl started flipping out.

"A flip, flop, a flippety flop, a flip flip flippety flop!"

Then, the tell-tale crunch, crunch, crunch of someone approaching from behind...someone HUGE...someone VERY WEIRD!  Yes!  It was dude-carrying-a-kayak man!  Aaaaaaaaah!

"A flip, flop, a flippety flop, a flip flip flippety flop!"

A minute later we passed what I shall call the anti-Hazel dog.  This dog was sitting right by the chain link fence surrounding Barton Springs Pool, diligently watching its owners on the other side, not moving an inch.  I told Hazel that was something to shoot for.  She ignored me of course as that dog didn't register on her weird-o-meter.

We rounded the parking lot and started to head toward the hill to home.  Did you know hills are freaky when you're going up them, but just fine when going down?  Yeah, I didn't either.

"A flip, flop, a flippety flop, a flip flip flippety flop!"

As the hill began to level out, so did her personality.  We made it in the house, got some water, and that girl went kersplat on the floor.  Freaking out is seriously exhausting.  Whew!

Can't wait to do it again tomorrow.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

What Eclipse?

The little guy who lives next door just rang our doorbell...not to ask if he could hang out and play, nope.  He came over to let me know that there was going to be a solar eclipse.  Love that kid!  Now, I already knew about the eclipse, but seeing him all excited about it, excited enough to inform his neighbors, made me remember a particular solar eclipse that happened when I was in sixth grade.

Now, that morning I had been given the gift of a lifetime.  Something I had been begging for.  Simply the coolest thing EVER!  You guessed it, it was a white digital watch with red LCD (or whatever it was back then) lines that created the numbers.  It was the coolest...I was the bees knees! 

So, when it was time for the eclipse, the entire school went out to the parking lot, each child holding a something we'd created  to view it safely, probably the pin hole in paper method.  I don't recall exactly as I was quite and justifiably distracted.  The moon started to pass in front of the sun, everyone gazed at the awesomeness their paper viewers beheld.  "Ooooh!  Aaaaaah!"

Ya, me?  Well, I could tell you what time it happened, that's useful info, right?

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Fashion Sense

My big guy and I were in the car today.  We were talking about some shoes I had wanted to buy at one point.  He had told me "No way, they're ugly." And I didn't buy them.  Soon after, I saw someone wearing those very shoes and I hated them.  He pointed out how totally right he had been and then piped up with this.

Big guy:  "I have the most fashion sense in the family."

Me:  "You?  What?"

Now, I don't mean to insult the guy or anything, but he does wear his Big Guy uniform every single day...plain T-shirt, plaid button down shirt on top of it, and cargo shorts.  Every single day.  Me?  I was wearing black just-below-the-knee-length leggings under a short black shirt dress and black flip flops.  Très chic, eh?  Well, gosh, at least in comparison, I thought.  Black is the new, uh, black or something like that.

Big guy:  "Look at you, mom, you're only wearing one color."

Sometimes we moms are smart enough to not take the bait and duke it out with our kids.

Me:  "You're right.  I'm lucky to have you around."  And, really, I so am!

Friday, May 18, 2012

Short on Ideas...AKA "Turd"

I have to tell you.  Sometimes there are days when I'm stumped, simply can't come up with something to write.  OK, more likely it's that awesome stuff has come up, but I've been told that the price would be high if I went public with it.  Geez...I'm a blogger, not a doctor, therapist or attorney.  Who ever said anything about client privilege here.  Jeepers!

Anyway, as I'll likely be hacked, or worse, if I spill my guts, I went to my list of possible ideas I keep for such times.  Thing is, most of these ideas are just like those awesome ones you come up with in the middle of the night, go to the trouble of writing down, and then wake in the morning only to think, "What the heck kind of wacky idea was that?!?!"

So, here's the idea I pulled from the list.  I'm using it right now, in this very blog, so that it will never surface again.

Suggested title:  "Turd"

Suggested thought provoking idea:  "Picking up a little clod of mud that turns out to be a wee little dog turd...uncool!"

There ya go.  A glimpse into my secret little world of blogging.  Now, don't go and say you're unimpressed.  I'd just have to blog about you and call you a silly goose liar. 

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Annoy me at Your Own seen on TV

You know that feeling when you're watching a movie or a TV show and there's a character so annoying that you actually hope and dream that they're somehow offed...the actor shows up to work one day and finds that their contract has not been renewed.  I never watch TV, but if I'm catching a movie or, yes, I admit it, a TV show on Netflix, and I find a character irritating, I literally give them about ten minutes to work out a way to have that character exited...I never really care how (though the more awful, the better)...or I turn it off.  You know?

Well, I just have to say that I consider myself quite sane because I never, ever think that sort of thing in my real life with the real life characters I come in contact with.  Seriously, never.

Yeah, I'm not a real sociopath, but I most definitely play one on TV.

(Insert crazy "Bwa-ha-ha" laugh here.)

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

The Cat...He's a Butt Head

My cat, well, simply put, he's a butt head.  Seriously.  He's got this thing where he butts you with his head for any reason, ANY reason at all.

"I'm hungry."

"I'm thirsty."

"I want out."  

"You should touch me."

"Scratch me, there."

And, my personal faves, "You should be awake now," 
and "Move over, I want the warm spot."

He butts us with his head to alert us that he has needs, be they small or great.  And does he do this to Dave after 10:00 PM or before 8:00 AM?  No, he does not. Those times he reserves for the nice lady (me) who won't give him the heave-ho off the bed.

I think it'd be right nice to come back as a cat in my next life.  I wouldn't need to paint or write at all...I'd relieve all my stress by butting my head against people, with or without a reason.  Mostly without.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

You say, "Petite." I say, "I don't get it."

As a rule I'm scaaaaaaaared to order clothing online.  Terrified, really.  I've successfully ordered a few pairs of shoes and a shirt or two, but pants?  Dresses?  Shorts?  No way!  Well...I decided to take a risk a few weeks ago and ordered jeans from Old Navy online.  I held my breath for the 7 days it took for them to arrive.  I opened the package, very excited , and tossed them on the bed.  OK, let me take a step back.  I ordered a pair of skinny jeans (I'm fully embracing this trend now, peeps, and I needed a second pair) and a pair of boot cut jeans.  Both the same size, same inseam, and both petite.  Well, from the first look it was obvious that the boot cut jeans were about 8 inches longer than the skinny jeans (which were perfect!!!).

Jump ahead to tonight when I went to return the boot cut jeans at the mall.  I talked to the sweet, young checker lady who pulled out a couple of "regular" length jeans which were about five inches shorter than the "petite" ones I had brought in.  She called her manager because she had now joined my "I'm totally confused" club.  The manager was a young man, shorter than I...I'm thinking, YAY, if anyone will be able to solve my "petite" confusion, it'd be this guy.  Well, he tried explaining what he thought (he admitted he wasn't sure) what the "petite" was referring to.  Something about it having nothing to do with smallness or shortness (huh?), something about the way a person is shaped (insert him doing the feminine hour glass shape in the air...multiple times).  Ya, the sweet checker lady and I were both still totally perplexed.

So, this (as my dearly departed elderly neighbor would've said) darn supposed (su-po-zed) "petite" girl needs some fashion clarification.  Help!

Monday, May 14, 2012

Nope, not my First

Sometimes I regret having such a rated G blog.  Writing about poop and farts still qualifies as "G", right?  If not, maybe it's PG.  Anyway, Dave and I have some of the best PG-13 conversations and, gosh, it's so frustrating not being able to spill it all here.  Sigh....

Anyway, after having a simply divine unquotable conversation we had a very boring conversation about driving on MoPac.  Something about him wanting to change lanes and me letting him know that he didn't need to...just another boring conversation about me being right and him being wrong the two of us being our controlling selves.  But, I came up with something awesome, oh yes I did!  Know what I said?

Me:  "Dude, this isn't my first road-e-o!"

Oh, yeah, he's a lucky guy!

Sunday, May 13, 2012

My Two Scents' Worth

In case you didn't know already, I'm an awesome daughter.  Yes, I did go by each of my parents' homes this evening, for 45 minutes each, spent some quality time, and then rushed myself home.  I have a huge mountain of laundry that needs some serious attention, don't ya know.  And what better way to celebrate Mother's Day than washing my children's clothes, right?  I pull into the driveway, get out, and my little guy greets me at the carport door.

Little dude:  "You're not going to want to come in here, mom."

Me:  "Why?"

I follow him in, against my better judgment, and gadzooks!  He was right!  I felt like gagging instantly and reflexively reached for the inhaler that I have neglected to refill for about a year now.

Me:  "What happened?!?!"

Little dude:  "Axe wars."

OK, so here's my list of teenager scents from best (unoffensive) to worst (utterly and completely offensive).

1. freshly cleaned boy in a freshly cleaned towel
2. boy about an hour after he's applied (correctly) deodorant
3. boy who has noticed he's got a bit of a smell and gives himself a squirt of Axe
4. boy who forgot his deodorant that morning and doesn't care how he smells at the end of the day
5. boy the next morning after #4 with no bathing intervention
6. boy from #5 liberally spraying himself with Axe to cover the B.O.
7. two boys battling all over the house with Axe spray while mom and dad are gone

I think the Axe needs to be axed.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

The Older I Get, the Less I Know...Happily So

There's something quite comforting about aging and slowly losing mind, I suppose.  I'm not really noticing any significant deficits or anything like that, just realizing that it no longer bugs me that I don't seem to know much.  Maybe I never did.  I just thought I did, I guess, and gosh, in retrospect, it sure took a lot of energy being a know-it-all.  These days I'm all about embracing the, "Gosh, I don't know about that, let me find someone who does."  That and being ever so thankful for Google.  I see my younger self in my children and others who are behind me on the whole age timeline thing.  My kids know EVERYTHING.  Even when they don't.  And, lovely thing, they're the first to tell me that I know NOTHING.  Sigh...  I tried to come up with a quick-n-clever comeback the other night when I was caught them not knowing something. 

Me:  "Awesome...I mean fail, uh, snap!  Oh, phooey!"

They gave me the "Mom, you know NOTHING about slang and you are so NOT stop trying" look.  Lucky for me, those boys love their feeble-minded dorky mom like crazy!

Friday, May 11, 2012

Manning Up

I pulled in to the Taco Bell drive through this evening, big guy ordered what he wanted, then I drove around to pay.

Young male cashier:  "That'll be $4.67, sir."  He was talking to little, hair-in-braided-pigtails me!

He looked a bit shocked when he finally made eye contact with me.  Guess he thought I was the source of the big male voice who had ordered.

Me:  "Yeah, I'm looking a little mannish today, I know."  <insert my big toothy, dare I say flirty, grin here>

As we pulled out of the parking lot I had some serious questions for my kid.

Me:  "So, what are you getting me for Mother's Day?"  (OK, brief pause here while I let you know that I so don't care about receiving things for Mother's Day...I really don't even need it acknowledged.  To my mother's great disappointment, I also feel the same way about celebrating Mother's Day with her.  Ah well....)

Big guy:  "Something."

Me:  "Give me a hint."

Big guy:  "What do you want?"

Me:  "I want you to spend the whole day with me, being super nice the whole time."

Big guy:  "Maybe."

Me:  "Maybe?"

Big guy:  "It's not Mother's Day today."

Me:  "I know, but I'm excited."


Big guy:  "You're looking mannish today, mom."

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Bigger is Better

So, I'm pretty sure you know I'm a special ed teacher, right?  I love the gig!  And by "gig" I mean that I perform ALL DAY LONG.  You know, singing, dancing, and acting...good stuff!  Anyway, our special ed team has been having a Mother's Day jewelry sale all week (we ask for donated jewelry from all the school parents and then sell it super cheap, $1-$4 per piece).  You've never seen a more adorable scene!  We're mobbed by kinder to 5th graders, clutching dollar bills in their hands, very carefully choosing what their mom will love.  It's truly precious.  There's a lot of really nice stuff available, and of course there's also a lot of stuff from the 80s and 90s when bigger was better.  In the eyes of many of the children (mostly the younger ones), they do believe in the bigger/better rule.  They have such love in their eyes as they choose a necklace with a particularly large bauble (think large outdoor Christmas lights size) for their beloved mom.  My kiddos used to shop at this very fundraiser sale every year and I know from experience that those moms will love beyond bounds the amazing gift they receive and will very proudly wear it out to brunch Sunday morning.  Love....

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Mad Rhymes

Our house is not without its arguments.  Not by a long shot.  And we're loud, we Parsons.  And there happens to be this amazing chair in the living room that all the male types LOVE to sit in.  It's pretty much an Archie Bunker chair, personality-wise, not appearance-wise.  So when the nightly vying for the privilege to sit upon it broke out once again, one line stuck out and filled me with delight.

Little guy:  "I don't care if it's your chair. I was already there!  Dang it...why do I always rhyme?!?!"

He's a poet and didn't mean to be one...or something like that.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Go Ahead, Take a Stab at it

So the other day I saw the most beautiful, inspiring photo.  It was a series of twigs, side by side, each with a blue bird atop.  It was most improbable, decidedly Photoshopped, and delightfully blissful.  I loved it!  I thought, "Well, golly, I'm going to take a stab at painting something like that!" 

I set about sketching it out, adding details, inking it, painting it, and inking it one more time.

Uh-oh, somehow I managed to draw a couple of sweet little birds that looked less inspiring of zen and bliss, and more inspiring of, um, dinner...shish kebab, shall we say?  My kid would say, "Fail, mom!  Serious fail!"

Well, I figured at this point I had to do something to make it look less barbaric, so I thought, "Birds only sing when they're happy, right?"  So I added some notes to clearly show anyone who took a gander at this painting that the birds were, indeed, quite happy to be pierced with a stick lounging atop the highest branch.

Thinking I might have just pulled this one off.  Whew!  And, note to self, think it through a little more thoroughly before taking a "stab" at things.

Monday, May 7, 2012

He's Studly and He Knows it

Historically speaking, I'm the one in our home who ends up picking up the dead critters found in the yard.  The half eaten rats, the feather explosions that most birds end up being after a battle, many snakes and lizards, and even an owl.  Not sure how it came to be that I was the informally elected mortician, removing bodies from the scene of carnage, it just turned out that way.  So, tonight when Dave was sitting on the porch swing and noticed a dead squirrel in the middle of the street, of course he suggested that I take care of it.  Well, this time I said, "Huh-uh."

He's a trooper.  He hopped right up and and grabbed a piece of bamboo from our yard (men love tools, ya know).  Clearly the man had a plan.  Well, in case you've never tried to pick up a rigid dead squirrel with one stick, I'll tell ya this.  It's not possible (though it's rather amusing to watch someone try).  This clearly called for another stick!  Second stick obtained followed by efforts to pick that squirrel up as if it were a lovely piece of broccoli you were trying to pick up with chopsticks.  Broccoli...easy.  Squirrel...impossible.  Dave looked down at his furry little nemesis, leaned over and picked it up by it's tail and flung it in our trash bin, showing that little guy who was boss.  I'm thinking, ya know, there's no loss to one's manliness once you've chopsticked a squirrel...might as well give in and go get a bag, right?

What can I guy is quite the stud.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Feel the Power

I went to a workshop on the M word today...yes, menopause.  Tis time I start thinking about such things.  I won't dish about the actual workshop too much except to say that it was absolutely wonderful!

So, at some point during the workshop, someone mentioned getting to that point in your life when you're comfortable with yourself, you realize what you want to do, and you're finally brave enough to do it.  OK, so my painting popped right into my mind...and then thoughts of my kid's new vehicle popped into my head.  I've been driving it lately because my Prius is at the dealership having a few things done to it.  What I'm realizing is that I LOVE driving his minivan!  I used to have one about 10 years ago and I felt all function and no sexiness about it.  My Prius, on the other hand, is the closest thing  to a sexy little hot rod I've every owned.  All I can say is that I must be coming to a right nice place as a woman and uber comfortable in my skin as I feel oh, so groovy driving that aerodynamic white mom mobile.  I'm tellin' ya...nothin' spells sexay middle-aged lady like power-sliding side doors.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

That's what she said!

Overheard conversations...aren't they just doozies sometimes?  As I sat at a coffee shop this afternoon three ladies chatted at the adjacent table.  I think when I was young my dad called such groups of women a "cackle crowd".  As it's a coffee shop I've frequented with girlfriends I always think of it as a place of celebration, of acknowledging each other's accomplishments, beauty, and, of course, struggles.  So I felt a certain "Huh?  Wha?" when I heard them celebrating the fact that one of their "friends" had gotten FAT and then talking about "dirty hippies" in reference to something.  Made me want to go hang out with whoever the fat chick was and, gosh, if she's also a dirty hippie...all the better! 

Friday, May 4, 2012

We're All That

Lovely evening out with the husband tonight.  Sitting at a restaurant, slurping my soup, yes, I'm a slurper.

Dave:  "We've got an anniversary coming up."

Me:  "Yeah, 20 years."

His posture sags and his back appears to have go a bit boneless.

Me:  "Well, gosh!"

Dave:  "No, I'm just that tired."

Hmmmmm...whatever "that" means.  <snicker>  It's been a crazy busy week for both of is that good!!!

Thursday, May 3, 2012

To quote my dad, "It's Rocket Science!"

Does the fact that events that crush children's dreams gives me great pleasure make me a horrible person?  It's not as bad as it sounds...I think...I hope, anyway.  I spent the day at a ranch near Fredericksburg at a rocket launch.  The participants were all teams of high school students who have been learning all about the science behind rocketry and had created their own VERY large rockets, some of them designed for transonic flights, and today was the big day to see if their rockets would indeed fly and be recoverable.  I patiently videotaped each and every flight.  First one was fine, went straight up, deployed its parachute, then gently floated down.

I hang my head now just a bit and say, "BOR-ING!"

The next flight was "better" in my eyes.  It went up, then went down, down, down, down (oops, where's the chute?), and CRASH!  Rocket guts went everywhere!  OK, I was getting excited!!!

The next rocket sat on the launch pad.  This one was black, Stealth Fighter black.  "Ominous" was seriously its middle name.  10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1-LIFTOFF!  It went up, but not far, and an "event" happened.  That crazy rocket split right in half and the cone fell to the ground pulling the still folded chute out of the remainder of the rocket...which, by the way, was still going up...sort of.  By "sort of" I mean it screamed, yes, it screamed, twisting and turning, and then started going sideways, still apparently accelerating, and the crowd had no idea if it was going to turn back toward us or, hopefully, crash safely a distance away.  Which it did.  Whew!  All caught on video, I might add!

So, were those high school kids' dreams crushed today?  Well, perhaps.  But just so you don't think I'm the meanest person on the planet, you've never seen kids beaming so brightly as these did as they returned to mission control holding shards of what was once their rocket.  I'm thinking an awesome crash is almost as good as a "perfect" flight.

It's rocket science!  Back to the drawing board!

Wednesday, May 2, 2012


So I was driving around with my kid today and I declared to him, "I think I'm going to try to stop using bad words."  I got a resounding, "uh-huh" from him.  Gotta love a vote of confidence.  But really, I don't say bad words terribly often, and I always, always use them appropriately.  I'm just finding that they're not as effective as I once thought they were, though I still find the use of them to be quite therapeutic.  Hey, maybe I need to come up with a new behavior to replace my language issue.  You know, like gum chewing for smoking cigarettes.  Hmmmmm....

I could do the old standards, put a rubber band on my wrist and snap it hard every time I make a poor choice of utterances.  Or I could have a jar on the counter where I have to put some money in every time I spout off.  I don't think I would follow through with either of those, though, as I'm not into self injury and I'm really tight with a buck.  I think it'll have to be something that I don't really want to do, but also something I don't totally mind doing, and something I'll definitely benefit from.  OK, here's the deal.  Every time I use profanity (and get caught), I'll drop and give ya 10 (don't even think about suggesting 50!).  And ya know what?  I bet it'll be so effective that the next time you see me you'll say, "Check out the effin' guns on that chick!!!"

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Cave Dwelling

Here I sit in a comfy chair out in Dave's man cave/office.  A/C is running out hasn't been turned on yet in the house.  There are no children out here.  Not even dogs or a cat.  No dishes.  No laundry.  The only sounds I hear are the occasional pecan falling on the metal roof and that admittedly pleasant purr of the window unit. 

Let me start this over...Here I sit in a comfy chair out in my Woman Cave.  This room could sure use some pink.