She is LOST. She is TINY and she answers to the name TINKERBELL.
She lives in a beautiful flower between the land of Sweet Streets and Littlest Pet Shops.
But we fear for her life as she was last seen here. In the gutters of the pretty pink play table.
It's urgent we find her.
If you have seen Tinkerbell please alert the authorities, as she is sassy and armed with pixie dust.
Scarecrow: I haven't got a brain... only straw.
Dorothy : How can you talk if you haven't got a brain?
Scarecrow: I don't know... But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking... don't they?
Dorothy: Yes, I guess you're right.
--Wizard of Oz
So unless you are new here, which if you are, "Hello, thanks for stopping by, take off your shoes and stay for awhile." Um anyway, most of ya'll know I live in Central Florida, the house of the mouse. What? It's close enough. And as ya'll know we don't have the traditional change of seasons here. We have hurricane season, love bug season, tourist season, and summer. Or, not as hot, hot, hotter, and scorching.
So while the rest of the country is putting on sweat shirts and jeans for raking leaves in the crispy weather we are watching the weather channel for the next tropical storm. Since our weather changes are much more subtle... um, nonexistant we have to rely on different signs to alert us to the fact that it's autumn, at least in the rest of the country.
- The beginning of NCAA football. Go Gators!
- Major chain store sale racks filled with tank tops and flip flops.
- Migration of the Snow birds.
- Vast improvement in the quality of tv programming... um, less reruns.
- The short return of Sam Adams Oktoberfest to grocery store shelves.
- Not breaking into a sweat to get the mail.
- Box of crayons left in the car, all day, not melted.
- Signs for fall craft festivals, and Oktoberfests.
- A/C not on continously 24/7 (oh wait that's winter)
Lest you all think we are missing out on the wonder and beauty of autumn, I present you with my family's favorite fall activity. I made this slide show last year for family, and they laughed, a lot. And they still think we are missing out.
If you really want to read the fine print.
Now, tell me about your favorite fall traditions.
Okay, so my confession this week? I actually kinda sorta don't mind sitting in the car line to pick up munchkin at school. I KNOW!
Last year I rarely had to pick up Breanna because she rode her bike or her BFF's mom picked the girls up. See she was picking up BFF's little brother and her neighbor's sons so she was already at the school anyway. Which really was nice in case it was raining at pick up time, the girls never had to ride bikes home in the rain.
Before that Breanna rode the bus to a different school for 2 years. Rezoning, who? So my last daily experience in the pick up line was when Breanna was in kindergarten. Which of course means my time was spent trying to keep a potty training toddler entertained in her car seat for a minimum of half an hour. Did you know a baby wipe will take blue ball point ink off leather Keds? Now ya' do. You're welcome.
So now, I sit for about half an hour ALONE in my car waiting to pick up my kindergartner. I could leave later, but I don't like to be stuck in the line on the main road. As the year goes on I will show up later and later. But I feel like I'm not usually doing anything else, and it makes my kiddo confident mommy will never forget her if I'm in the front half of the line. Except, part 2 of the confession, yestersday on early release day. Seriously, at exactly the time I thought I had an extra hour I realized it was Wednesday and I should be leaving, like right then. But don't worry I am NOT that mom that gets in line an hour before school is out, just to be first in line.
Have I mentioned I am blissfully alone to listen to any music in my car with no distractions? Bright and shiny objects, who? Can I tell you how many good books I've read so far this school year? Sometimes I call friends and family and talk, without having to yell at any little people who are begging for something, anything to get my attention away from the phone. Yes, they still do that at 9 years old.
Well, with that little tidbit, I have to go. I'm in the middle of a good mystery and my little one will be looking for me soon.
Anyone want to confess to actually enjoying something they routinely bitch about?
It's that time of week again. You know that day of the week when Tink gives us 2 words to interpret in photos. The event we like to call the WWC.
This week's words are Primitive and Modern. And I admit my pictures are from the archives this week. Not because of laziness, but because I knew I had the perfect photos already.
Every summer we visit a Florida beach town for a week long family vacation. 2 years ago I found this great secluded island on the south west coast to rent a house. North Captiva is a little island only accessible by boat, or if you are loaded, private plane. 2 summers earlier in 2004, Hurricane Charley wreaked havoc on the south beach of the island, and literally cut the tip of the island off. The only way to see "Charely's Pass" was walk the two miles down the conservation area of beach. We figured we could do that. Nobody told us, there had been virtually no clean up of that uninhabited section of beach. We climbed over, slid under, hiked through the brush and in the worst spots swam out in the ocean around all the fallen trees. In this case the journey was indeed as amazing as the destination.
To all the parents at EPCOT who gave us dirty looks Saturday evening as we let our little girls play in the fountain: Getting wet will not make your children sick! I am sorry that you are not as fun and cool as we are, but that is no excuse for perpetuating that old wives tale. Guess what? My girls play in fountains, run in the rain and are encouraged to splash in puddles. They are also allowed to decide for themselves when they need a jacket.*GASP* And their combined days of school missed over the last 2 years for being sick? I can count on one hand. That's 2 girls, 2 school years, 4 sick days. TOTAL.
So don't be hate'n. Look how much fun they had! And me? I got to rest my tired tootsies. We arrived as before they opened the front gates and didn't leave until the smoke cleared from the fireworks 13 hours later. So I earned that down time, thankyouverymuch.
Now I had not been to EPCOT in at least 10 years, so a lot has changed. However, the fact that EPCOT is my least favorite Disney park? Confirmed. I think old Walt rolls in his grave every time he hears someone complain about the horrible layout of the park. I know it's not anything close to what he would've planned. Think about this. The Magic Kingdom and all it's glory is strategically situated on only 107 acres of land. EPCOT? Twice that! And dear gracious, The Land? Who the hell put in those stairs? And WHY? There were over 200 acres to build on and suddenly someone decided building up was a good idea?
On the upside, it was not crowded at all, not as hot as our last 2 trips to the parks, and bonus FIREWORKS!
I really planned on having this posted Friday morning. Alas, the best laid plans and all that shit. Well, better Nate than lever I suppose.
I'd like to start this particular trip down memory lane by saying I am well aware these are not exactly embarrassing photos of me. Here's the deal, as I told ya'll I was tall and mega early on the developmental front, so my most awkward years were 3rd to 6th grade. Once I hit Jr. High at 13 I already had my braces off and frankly a body I had no idea what to do with, cause back then I was a good girl. Uh huh, I was. Of course that's not to say these photos aren't completely hilarious for the 80's hair and fashion alone.
Now on with the show...
Okay, let's start with a good one, 7th grade. I remember this being the "everyone else is wearing makeup" stage, and the classic mom response being "I'm not everyone else's mom". But in retrospect she was right, look how sweet, innocent and fresh faced I was. Rest assured that although now I see it as a good picture, at 13 I am sure I HATED IT!
Hello 1984, the year of preppy and the Kristy McNicol 'do. Apparently 8th grade was also the year mom relented on the makeup issue. Hmmm, I'm thinking the a'natrual look was much better. Could that be pink eyeshadow to match my FAKE Polo? I'm guessing the el'cheapo Polo didn't have a sturdy enough collar to stand up on it's own.
Good news, the makeup application has gotten better. And nice twist-a-beads to match my shirt, no? Wow, the hair has gotten bigger and more plasticy, which was a good thing then. I believe the destruction of the ozone layer can be traced back to this exact day.
And this is where the school photos apparently end. Now I know pictures were taken, as I have yearbooks to prove it. And my mother has lovely framed copies of my senior portraits at her house, but I haven't come across any in my own personal belongings. I'm guessing because I hated them. Well, not the senior pictures they were actually very good. But never fear dear readers I have plenty of snapshots and those are often even better.
My Sweet 16 Party. Not exactly MTV fare, but there were balloons, banners and a lovely cake my mommy made. My parents even hired some friends to d-jay the party for me. And that's all a girl could ask for. Well, except possibly some reliable fashion advice. Why am I wearing an outfit that looks like a 60 year old leather faced grandma would wear it for a walk on the beach? And good grief Charlie Brown what is that thing around my neck? Surely it's much too large and ugly and looks like it contains a BIRD to be called a necklace.
ps Make sure to check out the multi colored blinds, I know they are easy to miss with everything else going on there.
pps Note I have no feet but you can see the balloons touching the ceiling. Consistantcy people.
WARNING: MULLETS AHEAD - turn back now while you can....
This is me and my niece at her baptism. I am her god mother. What I'd like to draw your attention to is not the she mullet, but my waist. I was almost 17 here. I know that all through high school I thought I was fat, all my friends were tinier than me. Um hello, 17 year old self, a 25 inch waist and scales that barely tip 100lbs NOT FAT! Get over yourself!
This was my 17th birthday, my parents took me, my boyfriend, my BFF and her boyfriend to Busch Gardens for the day. And without even knowing it we created what I believe to be possibly the most perfect picture of 1987. Girl mullet? Check. Pastel clothing? Check. Over priced tank top from Limited? Check. Two different colored pairs of socks layered? Check. With hightops? Check. Hoop earrings and watch that match pastel shorts? Check. And that was all just ME!
And I'll leave you with that one, because really? It can't be topped!
In keeping with the theme I've got going with the old photos I thought this one was a lovely one to share. That is my dear friend Tracy and I doing shots during an event called Gator Stompin'. Why yes, those are recently emptied shot glasses... um plastic condiment cups, because college bars are classy like that, in our other hands. For those who were not lucky enough to attend one of the nation's top party schools, Gator Stompin' is an evening where one pays a set price, and then consumes massive amounts of alcohol... um, has drinks ... in several participating bars lining University Blvd. The horribly unattractive oversized shapeless t-shirts served as our proof that we had paid to take part in this semiannual bacchanal.
So my confession this week while dated, true. I drank - A LOT - especially in my college days. The word lush comes to mind. My sorority was often lovingly referred to, even by us members as Alcohol Omega. I truly lived by the "you can always retake a class, but you can't relive the party" philosophy I once saw on a t-shirt. Note to college age self, possibly a t-shirt being worn by a fraternity boy is not the best place to be looking for words of wisdom.
A few weeks back while confessing to losing my social security card I mentioned that I had only once ever in my "adult" life misplaced my purse or wallet. Of course it was in a bar during my college years. Back in the day we used to just carry what we called the "party purse" big enough for an id, cash and a key. I still remember the cute little red one I had that night. It had a clear pocket on the outside for an id, eliminating the apparently huge hassle of having to search for one's license in the pixie sized purse. For some reason this little gem had no shoulder strap, I suppose that made it a clutch purse (I do believe knowing that term much less using it makes me older than dirt). What I don't really remember is why the tiny little purse was too hard to hold onto, oh yeah that would be because I was drunk. In any case I sat it on the bar while I went to dance with friends. Now our sorority and a fraternity had rented out said bar for a private party. And the fraternity in question was the one where I was a little sister so I wasn't concerned about someone stealing my purse... until I couldn't find it.
Wait I need to back up to before the party. I drove my big old honkin tank to the party, parked in a perfectly legal, at night, parking spot, got out and realized I had a flat tire. I didn't want to spend half my evening, while everyone else was partying, waiting for AAA. So I jotted a note saying "flat tire, will move asap" for the parking enforcement the next day and left it in my windshield with the intentions of coming by in the morning to deal with the tire. Then I figured, I won't be driving home, I can drink. Sweet!
Now we are back to me leaving all my purse on the counter as I proceeded to get shit faced. The guys, my boys, were buying my drinks so the purse was left without a second thought. At some point I convinced a cute brother I wanted to kiss to walk me home. And life was good for this little co-ed.
Then I woke up the next morning. I remembered the flat tire. I remembered cute boy walked me home. The sorority house has a code lock on the front door, because someone was smart enough to know making and keeping up with keys for all those girls was crazy talk, so I hadn't needed a key to get in. Now where was my purse? Last time I remembered seeing it was ON THE BAR! OH SHIT! Called the bar. Called the fraternity house, checked with hot escort boy. He's no help and I was embarrassed. That was fun. Basically I called everyone, everywhere I could think of all day. The only logical conclusion? It was stolen.
So I called and canceled my credit cards, froze my bank account and then made the dreaded call. I was praying I could keep it a secret. But I needed money... fast. My parents wired me cash. Do you know where Western Union's are? In neighborhoods where people need money... fast. Ours was in the train station downtown. And guess what? My id was of course still in that little clear pocket. I had no way to prove I was the person that was supposed to receive that money...fast. Apparently this is common with persons needing money...fast, because it was totally a non-issue. When my dad sent the money he had to give them a password that only I would know. Here's the funny part, I was on my way to pick up the money, and remember old as dirt, so no cell phones, therefore he couldn't tell me about needing this super secret code word. The woman at the counter explained about the need for a password and without hesitation I said "Turkey" my dad's nickname for me and lo and behold the woman handed me an envelope full of money. My parents still laugh at that part of the story. Only that part of course. Because they also had to contact AAA swear I was who I said I was, because although I had my AAA card I had NO ID! And they had to pay an extra fee for AAA to do us this big favor. Then someone came and changed my tire so I could move my car out of the not legal, during the daytime, parking place I left it in. That part they never saw the humor in.
And now for the kicker. Because here at Casa de Pete there's always a kicker. This entire scenario took place in less than 24 hours. The one person I hadn't ever been able to contact had been my big brother. When I got home from Western Union I had a message from him. "You left your purse on the bar last night so I grabbed it for you. Come on over whenever and get it from my room." You are f'in kidding me?! This ladies and gentlemen is why you should never drink so much that you think leaving your shit on the bar is a good idea!
So cop to it, what kind of dumb shit did you do when you were younger? Or yesterday? Whatever, we are not here to judge.
Alright, just as promised I have more photos to share. Now Manager Mom emailed me and declared the previous photo too cute to be truly embarrassing. But what no one can see is just how much taller than all the other petite kindergartners I was. Seriously people, I have been my current height of 5'2" since the fifth grade. So I spent the beginning of elementary school the not so graceful giant and the end the girl with a bra and the first to start her period! How's that for awkward years? Plus, was I really going to start off with a bad picture? I have to work up to this people. Baby steps.
This I believe is the summer before kindergarten. I am 5 years old and apparently should have been checking something other than the white/caucasian box on my college scholarship applications. Of course these were the days before sunscreen and helicopter parents. Thus I am sure I spent the entire summer outside, coming in only for meals.
First grade. Judging by the beauty of my hair in this picture I would guess we had photos right after PE? Ya, think? And what exactly was the purpose of that kerchief around my neck? Wonder if I wore this outfit as a cowgirl for Halloween too?
2nd grade. This is the year our neighbor Barbara moved in. I don't remember this, but I know it to be true. See she was a hairstylist and she cut my bangs for me. Yes that is a piece of hair from said haircut at the bottom of the page. Let's just skip over the gap tooth grin and focus on the obvious hideousness of the green polyester outfit shall we? On second thought, can I just use the 70's as an excuse and move on now?
I guess all that cutting of the bangs was too much work, as evidenced by the hair barrette holding back the too long bangs. Add the over sized permanent teeth to the unkempt hair and you begin to wonder if my mother got the note saying it was picture day don't you? Or perhaps this was the best that I looked that year? Um, lets stick with neglectful parenting. Oh and we can not forget to take in the truly adorable Peanuts turtleneck. What you can't see? Is that to this day I can feel how itchy that poly-blend shirt was every time I look at that photo.
Fourth grade, the beginning of the truly awkward tween years. Check out the overbite. And again with the turtleneck, I remember this one being itchy too. Of course being that we lived in THE SUNSHINE STATE, it is entirely possible it was 90 degrees out the day this was taken. I'm also fairly certain I was wearing some type of undershirt/training bra underneath. Uncomfortable, who?
Zits and braces. 5th grade was not good to me. I distinctly remember that my mother told me to keep my mouth shut for these pictures and the photographer made me smile. And that sweater was argyle. And yep, you guessed it, ITCHY!
And as they say, save the best for last. This was spring of 6th grade, still elementary school back in the day. What really creates this picture is the fake fence and the lovely bridge backdrop. Note the color block dress and side braided pony tail. Obviously I was finding my own style. In my defense this was 1982. I rest my case.
Okay that's all for today's fun flash back. Tomorrow I will try to think of something truly humiliating to share for my True Confession. Maybe I'll just post a drunken college photo and go from there. Then Friday I will post the Jr. and Sr. High School photos, girl mullets and all!
So come on back, ya'll hear?!
This one is from the archives. Yep, my hubby is the only Male in a house full of Females, and this is how he spent his New Year's Eve. Wasn't it great of Santa to bring two Barbie heads so they could each have one?
Want to see better interpretations of the words? Hop on over to Tink's place and check out her photos. Make sure to check the comments, from there you can link on over to all the other participating blogs. Who knows, maybe you'll be inspired to join us next Tuesday.
Manager Mom recently had a birthday. The same birthday I celebrated in May. Yep we are both 38 years old. Friday she posted pictures of herself from grade school. And giggle, giggle isn't that just the cutest idea ever? Okay, I know it's been done. But something about being born the same year, well, those pictures take me back and I just know she would've been my friend. Then Sunday Manager Mom took it one step further and posted part 2 of her Gallery of Shame. And OMG! Cause yes huh, we all like, totally dressed like that and we like, had hair like that too. We like, totally did!
So this morning when I should've been grocery shopping and doing dishes I was pulling out the old photo albums. Of course I knew right where they were because dude, my closet is organized now, yes huh, it is so!
While flipping through my high school photo album/ scrapbook I found the above comic. Appears procrastination has always been my middle name. Actually, I meant to pull out the pictures this weekend (so I am putting off procrastinating, that is impressive, no?) as friend after friend was finding me on Facebook. Are you all on Facebook? It's yet another black hole of the internets. One person seemingly innocently invites you then all of the sudden everyone is updating and posting old pictures and OMG you just have to join them all in the walk down memory lane. Then it hits you after you wake up on Monday morning that you did nothing all weekend. And then you realize that person who invited you to join Facebook was just making sure they weren't the only ones wasting away an entire weekend! Damnit, it's a conspiracy!
On the upside I have some fun flashback photos to share here and on Facebook. Not sure any of the college pictures are safe for my family friendly blog. I'll be forced to search long and hard for some... um, a few... um, one that doesn't have beer can pyramids or worse. Just kidding... sort of.
Now I really should get to the grocery store, so my kids aren't forced to take dry cereal for lunch tomorrow. It was a close call today. Oh settle down. You know I'll give you a sneak peak at my adorable childhood photos. How else will I hook you into coming back?
This is me in 1976, spring of my kindergarten year. What are those ribbons my mom tied in my hair? Looks like she crocheted those herself doesn't it? And just like my oldest daughter, can't get a straight middle part to save our lives, gotta love the widow's peak. How come they don't make fun jumpers like that for kindergartners these days? Note the snowflakes and apparent long sleeves, have I mentioned I grew up in FLORIDA? We don't know snow!
So what are you putting off today? Make me feel better here people.
"I'm frankly sick and tired of the political preachers across this country telling me as a citizen that if I want to be a moral person, I must believe in "A," "B," "C" and "D." Just who do they think they are? And from where do they presume to claim the right to dictate their moral beliefs to me?" --Barry Goldwater
It's that time again. It has been two weeks since my last confession.
Okay, so I admit it. I look daily at craigslist pet listings. I've even emailed people about a few puppies. I can't help myself. I find myself walking around a dog that's not here. *I am vacuuming more than ever because there's no wet nose sniffing out the crumbs. I've forgotten to lock the back door because the girls go out in the afternoon and there are no late night doggie potty trips causing me to check that door. I also know it's a lot of work to train a puppy. I know that puppy vet visits are expensive. And I know that we already have plenty of pets to take care of around here. But my heart and my head don't necessarily always agree. How else do you explain deciding to have a second child?
KBHR has been gone just over a month. Dear gracious did we love that dog. Brooke still draws him "up in heaven" in pictures and talks about him almost daily. But funny enough, the girls haven't really started campaigning for a puppy, like I thought they would. Nope this little obsession with checking local puppy listings, is all me.
In the Great Campaign of 1994 I knew my best course of action was to lobby for a big dog. Becuase my parents always have some little yappy and annoying dog and in contrast Brian's sister had big good natured labs, Brian naturally believed big dogs were better. He finally agreed that if his sister's dog had puppies they would be great dogs and we could have one. The fates heard his hollow promise and granted my wish in the form of a very pregnant black lab at my soon to be SIL's house. KBHR was born while hubby and I were honeymooning. The wedding present that kept on giving.
Of course I know the bad behavior of the little dogs we know is mostly in the lack of training. Anyway, my girls like the idea of a smaller dog, one they can carry and cuddle. And lets face it most dogs that don't shed are smaller breeds. Non-shedding is at the top of the list of requirements in a dog if ever we decide to get one. So not only have I looked at craigslist, but I've looked at different breeds of dogs. Namely small dogs. I KNOW! Me? Part of the couple that coined the phrase "kick dog" as in a dog small enough to drop kick across the room. What has the world come to?
Yes, my husband reads my blog. I can guarentee he will read this then ignore it. He calls it letting me spin my wheels. And he knows that I know in the end in our house adopting any pet is a family decision. He knows deep in his heart I would never actually get a new puppy without his approval... um, his agreement... um, his surrender. But you never know, someone might be giving away the perfect "doodle" puppy, so I keep looking.
Now it's your turn. Keep me company here. What does your heart yearn for although you know the timing just isn't right?
*One would think lack of shedding dog = less vacuuming. But alas, dog hair merely attracts more dog hair creating tumbleweeds. Crumbs attract bugs.
So I get up this morning and rush around to get my kiddos off to school. In between lunch boxes and clean matching socks I pick up the toys off the bathroom floor and clear off the counter. I try to smile and greet the FIL nicely as he arrives. See he is headed off to his High School Reunion in Iowa and hubby is taking him to the airport. Admittedly I have been a bit pissed that his wife couldn't drive him, no we don't really know why. Hubby had a half comp day owed him from traveling on a Sunday, so he took the morning off to help out his dad. Did I mention this means his big ass truck is in our driveway for the next week? No? Well that just added to my grumpiness about the whole situation.
Anyway, so I leave to drive Brooke to school, then I run by to check on a neighbor's pets while they are on a cruise. Basically padding my time away from the house so I can make sure they are gone for the shuffling of cars that we will be doing for a bit. Having avoided too much early morning contact with the FIL-usually I require a few drinks to get my inlaw tolerance up, and seeing as it's before 9:00am that might be frowned upon in the school drop off lane- I planted myself on the couch and turned on the tube.
And there he was. Steven Curtis Chapman, on some morning show or another. My sister, my father and my neice were all gifted by me through itunes his song When Love Takes You In. See me and my neice are adopted so the song is especially appropriate for our family. But his song that totally puts me in sobbing tears? Is this one.
I wrote What makes you cry? back at the beginning of my blogging and this song was at the top of my list. Because dear gracious do kids grow up quick. After the release of that song, early this summer his 5 year old daughter Maria was killed in a horrible accident. Wow, that growing up fast? A BLESSING! So as I listened to Steven Curtis Chapman and his son sing Cinderella and talk about how his son would be singing it next month in his oldest daughter's wedding while he danced with her I was reminded once again to slow down and give thanks to God for all the good in my life. Really, we are so very blessed. Time to stop bitching and start appreciating.
I have an announcement. Are you sitting down? I actually left my house with camera in hand and took photos just for the WWC this week. Okay, so I did it this morning. But there is not one photo of my children or anything in my house this week. I KNOW!
Without further ado...
The WWC is brought to you by the lovely Tink at Pickled Beef. Maybe you can play with us next week.
Whatever you do, come on back, ya' hear. Maybe next week I'll even leave my neighborhood.
The kiddos started their 4th week of school today, and this will only be the 2nd full week. So getting back on schedule has been delayed. Oh hell, I admit it. It usually takes me a good month to get back into the swing of things after a long break anyway. Add the random hurricane and holidays in and I am hopeless. I've done nothing that wasn't entirely necessary for the function of this family for 3 weeks. Which means I am now playing catch up after my nearly month of hibernation.
Of course I started last week with the great closet clean out of 2008. While searching for the social security card did not actually require me to leave the house or put on make up, it did get me motivated to move. And when I didn't find said card I was then forced to get my ass up and out of this house. I applied for the card Friday and then met an old friend for lunch.
Can I just say how odd it was to not have a small child with me? My friend and I worked together when I got pregnant with Breanna, 10 years ago. I quit working for a paycheck to stay at home. She shortly after had a baby and worked from home for awhile, then for many reasons decided to return to working outside the home. We have remained good friends and have championed each other in the choices we have made for our families. But this wasn't about mommy choices, was it? Anyway, I have had a small child stuck to my side for almost every lunch we have had together over the last 9 years, and I felt like something was missing Friday. That's the first time I've really noticed the difference of having both girls in school full time.
My social security card as well as both girl's cards are on their way, fingers crossed, this week. They will then all go into the lock box with the other important papers. I'm sure that as soon as they show up I will find the originals. Anyone care to make a wager?
So I was feeling like I was catching up then this weekend my sinuses were killing me. Benadryl makes the headache go away, but it knocks me out. As in I fall dead asleep no matter how long I slept the night before. Thus, I spent most of my weekend sleeping. Bless my hubby, he spent his entire weekend entertaining the girls because I was practically comatose. And when not sleeping off my sinus hangover, I was a complete grouch. I think he was very happy to be off to work this morning.
The good news is, I am back to feeling like a part of the human race today. But once again, this morning I found myself playing the catch up game. What's that saying? Three steps forward, one step back. Lots of dishes and messes to clean up. And not just from the weekend. I didn't get anything besides the closet done Thursday. Then I was in government office limbo Friday morning. Out for a leisurely lunch Friday. And by then it was time to pick up the kiddos. I think the school clocks are off, they couldn't possibly be gone for 6 hours. Where does the time go?
I twittered about my day in order to figure that out. Here you go. Warning: the following list may bore you to death.
- 2 kids to school, bags dropped at charity box, groceries bought, laundry washing. And it's not even noon.
- One critter cage cleaned, dishes unloaded, laundry in dryer. Still not noon yet.
- 2nd critter cage cleaned. Now it's time to vacuum. Whew! Exciting morning here, huh?
- Time to fetch the small child at school. Oh car line, how would I ever get anything read if it weren't for you?
- Kids home, arguing began as we walked in the door. It must be Monday.
- Homework done, snacks eaten, time to pick up the family room. High hopes, I know.
- Well, I wouldn't call the house clean, but it's much improved.
"Alright, wait a minute. No drinking, no drugs, no kissing, no tattoos, no piercings, no ritual animal slaughters of any kind. Oh, God, I'm giving them ideas." -- Walter Stratford, 10 Things I Hate About You
No social security card. Lots of trash and bags to donate. A few things I might even try to sell on craigslist. But I'm a bit afraid to do that. Because the guy who wants to buy my bike trailer, could be this dude.
Sorry about the quality, it was raining and I only had my cell phone camera. But damn I had to get some photograpic evidence. Yes, that is a baby doll strapped to a board in the back window of that van. The HELL?
Good News- the job is a go.
Bad News - I still have to find the ever illusive social security card.
So which is worse? Having to sit at the Social Security office all day or cleaning out the bedroom closet? For me it's a toss up. I'm starting in the closet. If my efforts to locate my social security card do not produce said card I have no choice but to spend tomorrow in a government office. I know!
Good News - either way, my bedroom closet will be more organized.
Bad News - this is all I've got time to post.
Good News - I'm sure to find lots of fun things in the closet and meet some lovely people at the ss office.
Bad News - did I mention having to actually clean out the closet? And don't forget GOVT. office people!
The new Beverly Hills 90210 premiered last night. I personally only care because of my true love and devotion to the original series. I was in my Junior year of college when the series began. It was on for 10 years. By that time I was married and had a baby, and so did some of the characters. It's like we grew up together ya'll. So all I care about the new series is that my good friends Kelly and Brenda are back on my tv. And I am keeping my fingers crossed that many others will at least guest star too. Luke, Jason, Brian I'm looking at you!
Guess what I did all weekend? Yes I did, every free moment I had, late into the night, I watched. I remembered. I was transported back in time. Oh, the nostalgia I can hardly handle it. Scrunchy socks with high tops, big t-shirts with rolled up sleeves, tight jean shorts and hiking boots, and the hair, the big beautiful hair. And the side burns. Yummy boys with sideburns. I heart the 90s! One thing I had apparently put out of my mind... the overalls with one shoulder off and the plaid MC Hammer pants that Luke Perry was sporting in his first few appearances as Dylan. I'm betting he kinda wishes those could be digitally retouched to make him actually look as bad boy as his character was supposed to be. Thank goodness the wardrobe people helped a boy out after those first couple of episodes.
While watching I was impressed by the numerous "Before they were Stars" Sightings...
Did you know that Brandon's boss at the Beverly Hills Beach Club is none other than Dr Webber at Seattle Grace aka James Pickens Jr.?
In one episode Brandon interviews Chandler Bing... um, Matthew Perry. Oh hell, whoever his character was, for the Blaze. Yeah huh he does!
From the college years, the obnoxious Frat boy John Sears is none other than One Tree Hill's Dan Scott. Paul Johansson has always played asshole well.
Then in the racial tensions episode Vivica A Fox is the hottie new neighbor. Where she moves after that one episode we may never know.
These days of course my perspective is entirely different. In the early 90s when Brenda was losing her virginity with Dylan and Brandon was drinking and driving I was in college, barely 21 myself. Identifying with the teens on the show. Now? Now I am totally loving the parents. Brenda and Brandon's parents handled many teen tragedies over the years with compassion and understanding. They should totally have started the Jim and Cindy Walsh School of Parenting.
Among the courses they could include:
- Everybody's Doin' IT Teach your teens about safe sex and comfort them when their hearts are broken.
- The Dreaded Call First, thank your lucky stars they are alive to call even if it's from jail. Then make them pay for and learn from their mistakes.
- Siblings are People Too Every child is different, it's not only okay, but better for them to treat them as individuals.
- It takes a Village Not all parents are going to care as much as you do. Take the time to help your teen's friends.
- Hip to be Square Your teens need you to be parents not friends, set boundaries, teach the the value of hard work, and know their friends.
- Honey vs Vinegar Learn the fine art of conversation, leave interrogation to the police.
Brooke: I wonder what daddy would look like scared.
Breanna: Nothing scares daddy.
Me: Want to know what scares daddy? As he was holding Breanna all of 1 day old in the hospital I saw a terrified look on his face. I asked him what he was thinking. He said "Someday she's going to want to date." You girls dating is what scares daddy.
Me: And driving. You driving scares mommy and daddy.
Breanna: Driving in cars with boys.
Me and Brian: Yes, driving with boys.
Brooke (remember the child is 5!): I'm going to kiss boys in cars.
Then our heads exploded! The end.
And... it's friggin Tuesday again, already! Damned Monday holidays always throw me off.
Lucky for me this week's words were easy peasy lemon squeezey. In fact I knew as soon as I saw them I wouldn't have to take any new pictures. I had the perfect photos from about 2 weeks ago. The girls spent an afternoon decorating new cork boards to hang in the hallway by their rooms for school papers and such. While they were painting I was taking their pictures. When asked to look up for a moment I was greeted with...
For more info on the Weekly Words Challenge pop on over to Pickled Beef, say hi to Tink while you are there. She's a peach of a hostess.