My Fanny Pack...I love her so!

Because I'm so fond of sassing it up, and because I really want to have my children driven to hang out with me, and because I'm all about being a trend setter...I am personally bringing the fanny pack back.  Yes, it's sassy.  It's the same awesome black and pink one I've had since the late 80s.  Yes, my children jump at the chance to join me when I'm wearing it.  OK, that's a lie.  And yes, I am personally bringing the fanny pack back. 

You know, it's one of those things that purely reeks of utility.  It doesn't even try to be anything else.  It's hands free, it holds stuff, it rocks.

And to complete my evening look (atop my delightful spandex), I've decided to attach a blinky light for when the sun actually sets.

Yup, sassy, useful, safe...it rawks!

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In Need of a Bravery Boost

I discovered last night that evening dog walks are not for the faint of heart.  Now, don't worry about me...I've got my trusty seventy-five pounds of awesome pooch with me.  I'm good.  However, said seventy-five pounds of awesome pooch only has 5' 1.5", one-hundred-two pounds of me with her.  This is the only explanation I have for her being such an utter and complete wuss.

Bless her heart.  (I have to say that...I'm from the south, after all.)

You see, last night someone remotely unlocked their car at the exact moment we were passing by.

"BWEEP, BWEEP!!!!"

Hazel levitated and somehow managed to jump sideways, directly into me, before the car had even finished it's noise.  After much reassurance she was good to go...for a while...until we passed a bush that first began swaying, then began rustling, then began shaking outright, and then the tiniest little bird flew out of it.  But Hazel never knew about the bird because she'd already pulled too far away.  In her mind there was a grizzly monster with fanged teeth and a most foul smell coming after her with only thoughts of doggie digestion on its mind.

 Hmmmm...maybe I need to get some of my bigger-than-me guys around her to start walking her.  I'm sure that'll boost her bravery, right?

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Pinterest success or Pinterest fail?

I made cookies this morning...early...like 7 AM early.  A new kind of cookie.  Something I saw on Pinterest.  Always a risk, right?  And now those cookies sit...and wait.  Because if you know me, you know I never, ever eat cookies.  They're simply not on my "I eat that" list.  A list that is alarmingly small, I must admit.  So I must wait for the guinea pigs in my world to wake up.

Anyway, I've got ants in my pants waiting, waiting, waiting to find out if I'm finally managed to have a Pinterest success of fail. 

Fast forward a few hours.

Dave:  "They're good...and crunchy."

Little guy:  "They're good...I like the other ones you make better, though."

Big guy:  "They look good."


So there ya are...three "good"s...Pinterest success!

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My Pinterest Success

Feelin' Fancy!

Ya know, it's the small things, it turns out.  It really is.  You see, the other day at work I decided that I really, really needed something to eat on.  OK, back up.  I always eat my lunch in my classroom when my class goes outside with my assistant.  Now I could go to the lounge, but I really, really love alone time, so I gift myself with some of that every day at work.  What I used to do was sit at my desk, place my food on top of spiral notebooks or some such thing to keep containers that had condensation on them from getting all over my desk which has a freakish problem with being damaged by the tiniest bit of water.

Anyway, the other day I decided that I was special enough to deserve a better scene...so, being my crafty self, I got a large piece of construction paper, tore up many, many colorful pieces of tissue paper, glued them on the paper, and then laminated it the next morning when it was dry.

And I tell you what, this girl is feeling mighty fancy with her one-of-a-kind Kali original place mat.  Yup!  And it goes perfectly with the cloth napkins I pack in my lunch. 

Fancy is as fancy does, people.

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Ups, Downs, and Awe

You know, you're up...and then you're down.

My up?  Well, I got to have two seconds of fame when I appeared on NBC's "Revolution" last night.  AWESOME!!  So today when I picked up my little guy from school (his bike had a flat, so I came to his rescue), I told him, "All day people have been stopping me on the streets to tell me recognized me from TV last night!!"

My down?  Well, that dose of realism that my kid is always good for.  "Mom, your facebook friends online don't count as people on the streets."

<Silence as I pondered the fact that I'd just been busted.>

Me:  "So did you tell all your friends that your mom was on TV last night?

Little guy:  "I didn't tell any of them, mom."


Apparently two seconds of fame doesn't automatically guarantee awe from your kid.  Luckily I know that making him cookies does.

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What can I say? I'm human, after all.

I'm obsessive about wearing my bicycle helmet when I'm riding around.  Course it took me flipping over my handle bars and hitting my bare, unprotected head in front of a crowd of people about twenty-five years ago to convince me to start wearing one.  And I love my helmet.  It's cool, it's black, it's not one of those oblong-shaped ones you see a lot.  Nope, it's an awesome BMX/skateboard one and I feel like a super cool kid when I'm riding around town.

OK, enough about me.  Well, sort of, anyway.

You know how bike helmets are supposed to keep your head safe from injury, right?  Well, I learned a lesson about just that today that may toss that out the window.  You see, when I arrived at school this morning I took my bike lights off my bike, went to my classroom, took off my helmet, placed my bike lights in my helmet, and proceeded to work with my lovely students all day.  Then, when it was time to go, I picked up said helmet, raised it above my head, turned it over, and BAM, BAM!!!  My front and rear bike lights nailed me right on the top of my head!

So I suppose it might not be the helmet to blame and there's the tiniest chance that it could have been human error. 

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The taste of freedom smells really, really bad.

I've become used to the skitter skatter sounds of the little kitten tearing around everywhere in the house with two big dogs in hot pursuit.  It's become the background noise of our lives and a sign of pure bliss for the three critters involved.

This morning was no different...until it was.  Just like when my kids were little, the silence was more alarming than all the racket.  Silence = something not great is afoot!

I got up from the table, looked around for the kitten, woke up my kid, we looked around, discovered that the screen on one of the window was slightly pushed out, and to the front yard we dashed.

And there he was, jumping around right outside said window, looking happy, happy, happy.

Had that little toot been chasing lizards and birds?  No, of course not.  That little guy had clearly found a pile-o-poo and had been actively batting it around.


FYI, the taste of freedom smells really, really bad.

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