The Place To...

Great Idea...Pass It On

2012-01-25T19:06:00.000-05:00

This site gives kudos to Richard Phibbs, accomplished photographer.

Apparently Richard donates his time to

photograph animals in shelters so they are adopted quicker.

What a GREAT IDEA!

Invasion of Privacy

2012-01-18T22:50:00.000-05:00

Do you think that hiding a phone that is on and in "speaker phone mode" in your pocket and holding a conversation with an unsuspecting 3rd party is an invasion of privacy? I do.

Can you say that I am pissed? I am innocently talking to my daughter, asking her about her boyfriend and their plans on Friday, when I blurt out to my daughter that I need to poop. Yes, we are family. Yes, we discuss these things. I REALLY needed to use the bathroom. Hannah bursts into a fit of giggles and points to her phone in the pocket of her hoodie and mouths "It's on and Tony just heard you."

Where would you like me to start this lecture, Hannah?

A Bag of Kittens

2012-01-16T22:21:00.000-05:00

Funny story. We are standing in the foyer of the movie theater waiting for David and Hannah's new boyfriend Tony. "We" being me, Hannah, Bubba, Hannah's BFF Morgan, and Morgan's boyfriend Alex.

We are standing in the foyer waiting and a very interesting man approaches me. This is Ohio. Remember? Not Seattle. Not New York or Chicago. An older (60's?) man with a shaved head wearing a wool pea coat, vibrant green infinity scarf (not unlike my own), circular Harry Potter black spectacles and some expensive cologne approaches me and touches my arm. I turn to let him past, and he grabs my arm a little tighter. He says, "God! Did you drown all your ugly babies? You know, like kittens in a bag? Because your children are GORGEOUS. Gorgeous!"

I laughed and said I had and thanked him, because I thought his joke was humorous, as all the teens and Bubba looked at the strange man and stared. My four children stared.

5 Cans Short of a Six-Pack

2012-01-13T21:28:00.000-05:00

My mother just called me.

The whole conversation lasted 45 seconds. She didn't even say hello. I answered the phone and the first (interrupting) words out of her mouth were, "Is it snowing? Are you snowed in?"

I answered yes, because I live in Ohio and it would be weird if it wasn't snowing in mid-January, to which she said, "Oh, okay. What are you doing this weekend?...Oh, okay...(I didn't answer)...Bye."

This is only the 6th or 7th clue that my mother is now the conductor of the crazy train. Last week's stalking phone calls and depressing e-mail asking me if I was sure if I should apply to grad school because I may not be able to handle it AND clean my house...and I'm afraid my siblings and I are going to be looking into dementia drug treatments soon. I know I shouldn't be joking about this, many families do suffer from dementia, but my family already has it's demented. We are covered.

Attraction

2012-01-11T21:05:00.000-05:00

Again, huge fan of Samantha French.

Was it all that time in the pool? Who knows.

Sorry for the silence over here. Between daily workouts :)

and grad school applications due on the 19th,

I have set the blog aside again.

See you soon!

Is This Normal?

2012-01-09T21:34:00.000-05:00

In an effort to abide my resolutions, to which I am killing thankyouverymuch (except for the sugar thing, but I digress), I did a few exercises this evening.

Hannah was hobbling the other day and told me about her new "workout." When I use air quotes around work out because her workout is called "The Four Minute Workout." Seriously? Four minutes? I rolled my eyes. But the kid was hobbling. So I asked.

Hannah claims "The Four Minute Workout" is changing her body. Changing? She's 14. How much is it going to change from perfect? The workout includes 20 seconds of high stepping, 20 seconds of rest, 20 seconds of squat thrusts, 20 seconds of rest, 20 seconds of mountain climbers, 20 seconds of rest, then repeat for 4 minutes.

Back to tonight. I worked out this morning, and I thought, I'll "do" Hannah's workout tonight just for kicks and grins. So I start up. 20 seconds of high steps really fast. Move on to 20 seconds of squat thrusts...and... I'm done. I lasted 40 seconds of a 4 minute workout. 40 seconds!

So I'm lying on the bed, recovering from my 40 second exertion, surfing the net when I realize that I'm, how shall I say this? Lying in a puddle. Apparently squat thrusts take a toll on your ability to contain your urine? Who knew?

Dear Driver,

2012-01-04T21:54:00.000-05:00

Dear Driver,

Thank you so much for your generosity to others, you really are a gem. You are so kind to completely stop entire lines of traffic and let oncoming traffic make left turns in front of you because you cannot seem to recall the rules of the road, even though you only took your initial drivers exam only a few years ago.

Why is it that people seem so inept at relating to other humans, but put them behind the wheel of a car and some of them turn into over accommodating, stop traffic, psychos that forget all rules and right of ways of the roads?

Hugs and impatient kisses,
Careless

Graduate School???

2012-01-03T21:25:00.000-05:00

I went back to work today, and promptly decided that I should quit and go to Grad School. When I arrived home and started my Google searches regarding degree, I discovered that A. I haven't taken the GRE!, 2. I have no current portfolio and Three. I have no letters of recommendation. Oi. Doesn't look like I'm quitting anytime soon.

The thought of the GRE!!! freaks me OUT! I understand that it includes some sort of Algebra, and that really freaks me out! At first, the thought of the portfolio really made me crazy, then I decided that it sounded really fun. So I'm going to start brainstorming on that and stop thinking about the GRE for a minute.

What should I be when I grow up?

Day Three

2012-01-03T21:20:00.000-05:00

Yes, I was creative today.

I did one of the countless tutorials from my Pintrest board

found here.

It's a purse/camera bag. I like it!

Day Two

2012-01-02T22:05:00.000-05:00

First snow.

Hours and hours of fun outside building the world's

smallest sled run.

Day One

2012-01-01T22:06:00.000-05:00

This one doesn't count, because I took it yesterday...

but how do you like my Chia?

Here it is. The first day of the year and I have procrastinated ALL DAY

and haven't taken my photo for the day.

Hence, Bubba giving me the "WTH? Mom. It's 10 p.m." look.

Notice the hint of green above his left eye?

His pre-Christmas injury just now starting to fade.

The last day of school I got a phone call at work at 2:30. School would be out at

3:30 and Bubba was in the nurses office with a "head injury."

I needed to come to the office and pick him up because they wouldn't put him on the bus.

Great.

Maybe next time we shouldn't sword fight with candy canes son.

Everybody Does It Why Wouldn't I?

2011-12-31T15:17:00.000-05:00

Here it is. It is the last day of the year, and it is time to reflect. After reading an article a friend forwarded to me recently, find it here, I am ready to make some resolutions/commitments and post them for myself and the world to see. AND check in on my progress periodically.

1. Eat right. I know, this is usually #1 on most resolution lists, but since mid October and the birthday/Halloween/Thanksgiving/Christmas sugar fest that has gone into my pie-hole, I need to call it quits on sugar (at least until Valentines!) and go back to my old ways of watching what I eat. Good bye sugar! Your headaches will plague, your cravings will consume, but I will defeat you. Again. Crap! It is 3 p.m. on NYE, I have a ton of Christmas candy to get through before tomorrow!

2. Exercise 6 days a week. Never doing the same exercise two days in a row. I had been exercising 5-6 days a week, until my visit to my parents. Add in the stress eating (see resolution #1) and lack of exercise around the Seattle trip, and the scale is telling me I need to get back on the program. That, and my routines are too routine. If I am into walking, that is ALL I DO. I need to change things up and change my routines.

3. Be less of a control freak. My mother showed me just what a control freak is these last few weeks. I have decided that it is ok for my kids to figure things out on their own. I will still be available to ask questions of, but I need to let my kids try things and applaud them for their efforts. They could come up with a new way of doing things I'd never thought of.

4. Take a photograph a day. I always see this proposition, and now I need to do this! To post or not to post is the question.

5. Make an effort to do new things creatively every week. I love to sew. I love to do lots of "crafty things" but need to make creativity a priority.

6. Go back to school. I would like to go back to school and have toyed with the idea for years. This year? This is the year.

7. Do things for myself. This is the year of my independence. I am spending too much time looking to others for my happiness. I need to find my own happiness.

8. Tuck my kids in bed. You ask Hannah how her day was at 4 p.m. and her standard answer is "fine." But, if you go into her room as she is snuggling in bed and spend a few minutes asking questions? She will monologue and open up to tell you things you never thought of asking about. Her answers increase in word numbers as the day progresses, I would like to be the last one to hear her answers each night.

9. Read. I hadn't consumed a book in months before going on this vacation and being forced to sit on a plane and read. I need to turn off the tv and read.

10. Grow spiritually. Prayer. Study. Reflection.

Looking Forward

2011-12-25T14:46:00.000-05:00

Looking forward to this afternoon at my sister's. The clock is moving V...E...R...Y slowly.

It doesn't help that my Mother has...walked in on Bubba getting dressed and obliviously sat down and started talking about something silly...riffled through all my stuff trying to find a bag of socks she misplaced...told me how to assemble a plate of cookies...told me to wrap said plate so the cookies didn't get dirty.

Oi.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Grandma Throws A Fit

2011-12-24T10:54:00.001-05:00

Yes, we are surviving my parents visit. We are still here. I have learned a few things about my Mother that baffle me.

First, I thought my Mother was criticizing everything I did, or thought I was a 42 year old idiot, or going insane and talking to herself, but yesterday I had an epiphany. My Mother narrates EVERYTHING she does. We were making cookies and my Mother was walking around the kitchen describing every move she made. "I'm going to take the butter out, the butter is in the fridge, I buy the butter at Costco in 5 pound packages, and if we don't use it all I'll put what we don't use in the freezer and use it later when I need it."

Second, the weight of the world rests on my Mother's shoulders. My sister and I had a date to make cookies for Mom yesterday, you know, so Mom didn't have to spend hours in the kitchen baking. Our Mother woke up early and turned on the oven so it was 8 MILLION degrees in her already hot house, and began a frenzied baking spree. She had made two different kinds of cookies before my sister even arrived at 9ish. Then, Mom proceeded to keep coming into the kitchen and wouldn't sit down.

Third, my Mother falls apart if things don't go right. After baking all morning, we were going to put a ham in the oven and have a nice, easy dinner with the family. Scallop potatoes, ham, corn, a salad. Something holiday-esque and something really easy. Laura (my sister) and I asked Mom a million times how we could make things even easier, or pre-make the potatoes, but she refused. Fast forward to sitting down for dinner and Mom bursts into tears and freaks out that the ham isn't warm enough, potatoes are runny...the whole dinner is ruined and she shouldn't be allowed to cook. During the sobbing I turned to my brother-in-law and whispered "Dinner and a show." We both giggled hysterically.

At one point in the day yesterday my daughter looked at me and said, "Mom, if you act like this when you get old (yeah, I'm not old!), we are going to have a problem."

How To Survive, or Parent Speak 101

2011-12-23T00:21:00.000-05:00

I survived my first full day of my visit with the parents. We (Hannah, Bubba and myself) have been at my parents house for 34 hours, not that I am counting, and the only reason I am surviving is visits and activities with my sister and her family.

Today, we woke at 6:30, because of the time change, and proceeded to do absolutely nothing until 11:30 when I took my Mom out to run errands. Errands, was actually errand and Mom's entire exaggeration of we have so much to do today actually meant we needed to run to the grocery store for 20 minutes to get 13 things.

With all our errands accomplished we were able to go to my sisters and take the kids ice skating outside in downtown Tacoma, shop at the University Bookstore and go to Happy Cupcake for after dinner treats. Woot!

Missing Squirrel

2011-12-18T21:15:00.000-05:00

I was downstairs in my sewing area, as I have been sewing a ton of Christmas items lately, and I decided to be kind to the animals and let the squirrels out. I figure, as long as I am downstairs what's the harm?

Can I tell you that it is a little alarming to be sewing and suddenly have something crawl up your pant leg? For some reason, Pepper loves to climb up and see what I am working on.

Anyway, I had been sewing for a hour or so and decided that I was cold and done with what I was working on, so it was time to wrangle the beasts. In the past we have put the gliders dinner in their cage and they have come bounding out of where they have been playing like any other crazy house pet. We rang the dinner bell. No Pepper. I put the cup of fruit and cottage cheese in the cage, Chili, the shy silent type appears from his hibernation pouch and starts chowing down. No Pepper.

I turn on all the basement lights and rattle some of the shelving. No Pepper. I throw up my hands and call Hannah downstairs, since they are her pets and the least she can do is help wrangle Pepper since I played with them and fed them. Hannah tries. No Pepper.

I am getting tired, and colder, and finally tell Hannah I am going upstairs to bed and she can deal with the animals. I'm done. Put the missing squirrel posters up in the morning, I'm tired. Hannah begs me to stay a few more minutes and help. We try everything. Food. Pine nuts. Shelving rattling. Lights on in the crawl spaces. I am starting to freak out. I am thinking Pepper has gotten outside some how and she is a gonner.

Then, Hannah has the brilliant idea that we should let the dog downstairs. Chloe will sniff the squirrel out. Chloe is let downstairs and immediately goes over to the cage and starts harassing Chili. Not what we wanted. We wrangle Chloe away from the cage and she heads straight for the shelving and starts sniffing up a storm near the far shelf.

Pepper. Not only is Pepper there, but she has somehow managed to get herself trapped in a clear plastic bin of Hannah's junk. The poor thing. If we had gone to bed, she would have been trapped there all night.

Pepper was freed. Chloe was rewarded. Everyone is going to bed.

Dear Drunken Parents,

2011-12-13T10:07:00.000-05:00

Dear Drunken Parents,

Thank you so much for demonstrating how trashy and ignorant you are, you have now left me no doubts as to your parenting skills.

Let me set the stage...Buffalo Wild Wings, 4 p.m., Saturday, Army Navy football game on the big screens (didn't have a clue because we don't follow football)...and scene:

Step one: Sit at your table and drink beer after beer and talk amongst yourselves. CHECK

Step two: Bring your children and let them run (not walk) laps around the restaurant. CHECK

Step three: Give your children endless supplies of dollar bills (do you work at Chippendales?) so they can SIT ON THE TABLES and plug said dollar bills into video games. CHECK

Step four: Don't monitor your under 5 year olds and let them run into the bar area and use the public restroom on their own. CHECK

Step five: Give your children lots of sugar and no actual meal so they are super whiney and run laps around the restaurant (did I mention that already?) CHECK

I completely understand that I need to be aware of my environment and take the good with the bad as far as people and dining experiences...but...yes, but...you are morons. After your 4 year old had lapped our table for the 21st time I, a Kindergarten teacher no less, asked my family straight faced if I could stick my foot out of our booth and trip the wild running girl. I could pretend it was an accident, like was getting up to use the bathroom or something.

People! Train your children. YOU are the parent. Use babysitters. Enjoy yourselves without costing others. Who, pre tell drove home?

Sober kisses,

Careless

Dear Pharma,

2011-12-04T21:11:00.000-05:00

Dear Pharma,

Thank you so much for "making me well" while "making me crazy." I appreciate the fact that physicians are guessing when it comes to diagnosis and a 3 week, head splitting, tennis ball green snot blowing, infection. But YOUR DRUGS ARE MAKING ME CRAZY.

Why do you call it a Z-pack anyway? Z for...zany? Your z-pack has done nothing for me except nullify all my other medications. My thyroid? Totally inactive. I now sleep all day. And when I am awake? My hormones are zoinkers. I could have thrown my t.v. out the window today while playing an innocent game of wii Billards. I finally just threw the wii-mote across the room, stormed upstairs and lay in my bed crying. Over a wii game. Psycho.

Thank you, too, for turning the lymph nodes in my neck into hot coals. Between the mood alterations, lack of head pounding relief, and sleep, I am a freaking mess. A mess!

Hugs and sleepy kisses,

Careless

Dear Lady,

2011-11-28T06:35:00.000-05:00

Dear Lady,

Thank you so much for your kind offering of toilet paper, but I don't know you and where your hand has been. You, my new friend from Kentucky, are very sweet, but since we don't know each other you would never know that (shhhh), I am a germaphobe, and unless I am related to someone, I wouldn't have a conversation with anyone seated next to me in the adjacent bathroom stall. It's just me. Call me crazy. And, no, I'm not planning on running for Congress, or visiting the Minneapolis airport in the near future. I just have a problem with germs.

Thank you, too, lady from Kentucky, for your pleasant "in line waiting"conversation in the very small bathroom in the Chick-fil-A. I could tell that you "seemed" normal with your "MONTANA!" sweatshirt, and your concern for your college aged daughter, but, still, I would rather not use toilet paper than accept a pass from under a dirty stall wall.

Lady, you are well intentioned. It's just me. I have issues. I'm still trying to get the image of your hand coming at me from under the wall, out of my head.

Hugs and Chicken-y kisses,

Careless

Dear Pintrest,

2011-11-22T06:00:00.000-05:00

Dear Pintrest,

Thank you for creating a new monster. Thank you for creating another site that sucks what little free time I cling to dry, and leaves me wondering what the hell I have done with the last hour of my life. I was hoping for that!

Thank you, too, Pintrest, for not only offering the visual stimuli, but dangling things like "Ribs in the Crockpot!" (which WERE the best ribs ever, BTW) and "Easy Delicious Pretzel Bites" in front of my empty stomach. They WERE easy. They WERE delicious in all their buttery goodness. So now I'm lazy AND fat! A wintery win-win!

Not only have you made me lazy and fat, you have created a stalker, I mean "Intense Researcher." Why do I need to know that Vicky S. has 15,000 pins? Who cares if Sara H. was pinning at 5:30 this morning? Stop taunting me Pintrest, just stop!

The thing about you, Pintrest, is that you allow me to "pin" stuff to my board and you don't judge me when I never complete a project. But I've decide that I need to change my collecting status to a doing status, and make those recipes! Sew those projects! Arrange that furniture! Wear the combination of clothes like that woman put on her story board. This weekend I actually made 3 of your recipes and completed, YES COMPLETED, two of your projects. And I am looking forward to your "Easy Crockpot French Dip" and others.

Hugs and butter drenched kisses,

Careless

If Only I Were THIS Creative 10 Years Ago

2011-11-10T17:33:00.000-05:00

I am not a HUGE Star Wars fan, but I do remember seeing the movie in the theater in 1977. It's not all about the movie, it is the fact that this child's nursery is SO FREAKING CREATIVE, and yet it is all store bought "stuff." Take a peek here...

Dear PBS,

2011-11-08T17:02:00.000-05:00

Dear PBS,

Thank you (in all seriousness) for your contribution to my base knowledge. I can have an intelligent conversation with a recently turned 5 year old about Chinese culture all because of your excellent programming.

Yesterday, I was engaging my new student in conversation and I was able to talk about Chinese culture all because of your cartoon "Sagwa." Do you remember the cartoon about the Chinese cat that did calligraphy? It was really popular when Hannah was young...around 2000? 2001? Well my student was describing her meal from the previous night...squid...and all the other kids were staring at her in horror. I jumped in and asked this student about Moon Cakes. All because of my Sagwa knowledge.

This student lit up and said she had moon cakes before when her father had brought them back from China. I asked what message was smuggled inside (espionage style) and she laughed because I KNEW the moon cake history. All because of this damn cartoon I must have watched a BILLION times with Hannah.

Then we also discussed Chinese calligraphy, which I remember and can write a few words in, ALL BECAUSE of your cartoon! My student was very impressed.

So thank you PBS, for teaching me Chinese 101. I can keep impressing the 5 year olds!

Sticky hugs and kisses,

Careless

The Big Reveal

2011-10-31T20:48:00.000-04:00

Yesterday Hannah decided she wanted to dress up.

A quick trip to the fabric store and $3.14 worth of felt later...

she is a sashimi.

The cast is the wasabi!

Here is the big reveal on Bubba's toilet costume.

He was a HUGE hit,

and brought home 6.4 pounds of candy from our little neighborhood.

He was photographed 14 times and

even asked for his autograph.

Some of the neighbors are saying he has the best

costumes year after year.

Maybe I could pawn myself out as a costume designer?

Dear Next Door Neighbors,

2011-10-28T05:49:00.000-04:00

Dear Next Door Neighbors,

Thank you so much for single handedly supporting the economy with your Halloween spending and DP and L usage. I, too, had to support the economy and buy black out curtains for my windows so I could sleep.

Let me guess. Your favorite movie is Christmas Vacation. Because I think I may write National Lampoon and tell them to sue you for copyright infringement (whatever that is), because Halloween Vacation? That is what your yard looks like. But unlike the happy go lucky Santa characters, and smiling reindeer, you chose to put out your full size cocooned body hanging upside down from a tree. Sure, there are smiling witches, hundreds of pumpkins, and Casper-ish ghosts, but the bodies hanging from trees always make me cross to the other side of the street during my pre-dawn dog walking.

The beacon illuminating the witch to make a pretty shadow on the side of your house? Shines into my house illuminating the entire top floor.

I love how you had the forethought to think about taking weird odds and ends, with no obvious theme, saving them for years in big boxes, and then dumping those boxes of crap on your front lawn. It is now suddenly clear to me why you have a STUFFED FULL three car garage AND a barn on your property. I think after I write National Lampoon, I may call Hoarders and out you.

Hugs and spooky kisses,

Careless

Dear Eyes Part Two,

2011-10-23T21:52:00.000-04:00

Dear Eyes,

I know that you are feeling left out in the bling department, after all my teeth have had some recent bling, my butt has had some new pants, my feet new shoes, and my hair a new cut...but new glasses? Come on!

Really? We can't get by with reading glasses from CVS? You have to go all "two different PROGRESSIVE lenses" on me? Seriously? I know that I am 42 now, but progressives? That is just a nice way to say bifocals (like reader Eileen said).

First my hair decides to go all grey, then my hips decide that exercising is so passe', now YOU, eyes, are requesting progressive lenses? Do I have any dignity left?

Then...I start looking at frames, that I have to wear EVERYDAY, and everything is all bedazzled. What on earth would indicate that a 40-something year old woman would want rhinestones on the sides of her glasses? What in the hell says Hannah Montana like bedazzled hearts? Butterflies? Then there are the cheetah prints, Coach logos (no thank you), and gold lame'd circles. Seriously?

Of coarse the non-bedazzled ones are the "Vera Wang" glasses and the $400 danish something or others.

And how am I supposed to make a choice like this when my eyes are dilated? It is a racket, I tell you a racket! So for now, no glasses.

Blurry kisses,

Careless

Thumbs Up

2011-10-19T19:54:00.000-04:00

My eldest got her first cast today.

It seems that soccer is a little dirtier when you play in high school.

This season?

Two head injuries. One concussion. One bruised cheekbone.

One goose egg on her shin. One knee injury.

Various bruises and cuts.

And one Salter fracture.

Thumbs up!

Her exact words upon arriving home?

"In hindsight I think lime green may have been a poor choice."

Brains AND brawn.

A Strange Thing...

2011-10-16T21:59:00.000-04:00

I am nuts about costumes. Nuts! I love making costumes, and "things" and the bigger the challenge, the better.

Every year around Bubba's birthday we start discussing Halloween costumes. I am a "make it" costume gal, and the thought of running to Target to buy the last ghoul mask on the shelf the day of, makes me ill. I hate hum drum costumes. I H*A*T*E ghoul stuff.

So, this year? Bubba decided he wanted to be a toilet. Yes, you heard me correctly. A toilet.

Of coarse the natural joke was that he was the toilet, and his sister? The "turd." But alas, Hannah is no longer in the costume trick or treating game. Entrance to High School grants you a "No trick or treating" pass in my book. You are welcome to dress up, but you are not going around taking candy from babies, as it were.

So...our process began with a trip to Sam's Club where I riffled thru the box bin and came up with the "tank." A bowl, paper mache'd into "the bowl" and a piece of poster board paper into the pedestal, and this is what we have so far...

We are still tweeking it, and the lid and rim have to be constructed and mache'd, but we are right on track for the 31st.

Today we bought the handle (from Home Depot). We also decided today that we couldn't extend the pedestal back any further (like a real toilet) because of Bubba's legs.

The idea is that we will construct the rim and lid this week, around soccer and homework, and fasten those so we can spray it white this weekend. Bubba is installing a fishing line to pull the seat up when he says trick or treat so the candy can be deposited into the bowl. But he is VERY worried the bowl is too small.

This project has been fun, and Bubba even made his way into big boy tools with the jigsaw when he cut the toilet bowl rim from a piece of plywood. I wish I had a picture of his first wood working!

Dear Eyes,

2011-10-10T21:53:00.000-04:00

Dear Eyes,

Thank you so much for forty two years of service. Why are you failing me now? First there was the reading glasses purchased at the airport last year, to help me get by and read the fine print. Now it's the fact that I can't see for crap when my son holds something up for me to gaze upon, unless it is 5 feet or more from my face. I can't read labels. I can't read the newspaper, only the ads.

Your contribution to my well being is weakening. After trying to thread the needle on my sewing machine today I gave up and came upstairs and made myself an appointment. An eye appointment. Gasp. I am voluntarily going to the doctor IT'S THAT BAD. After all these years of protecting you and feeding you carrots, this is what I get.

Blurry kisses,

Careless

Mommy Throws A Fit Part Deux

2011-10-02T20:21:00.000-04:00

There is more. After my first fit? It got worse.

We waited all night for a text. ALL night. Hannah never texted us to tell us when she needed a ride. Our texts were never answered.

Long about 10:30 I was pissed. Unbelievably pissed. The dance had been over since 10. We had waited for a text to tell us what part of the evening we would be driving. After texting the 5th unanswered text, I texted Hannah's BFF (also at the dance) and asked her where Hannah was.

Hannah called me, from the dance minutes later. Apparently she had gotten the time wrong and the dance ended at 11. I couldn't hear Hannah, and we were disconnected 3 times, so finally I texted her back on her BFF's phone and told her when she left the dance, she was to come straight home.

At 11:15 she knocked on the front door. I was already in bed and went downstairs to let her in. Silently. I walked back upstairs and went back to bed. Seething.

At 11:45 Hannah's BFF's Mom starts texting me. I am asleep, or was asleep. I walk into Hannah's room, take her phone and walk back out and go back to bed.

So this morning the poop hit the fan. Hannah got chewed out by David, she got chewed out by me, she lost her phone. Her phone is now only used when she is at school or at soccer practice. The moment she walks in the door, her phone goes in a box. Off.

When Hannah can use her phone to communicate with her parents, and not as a social tool, she will be allowed to use it again. We explained it would not kill her to check in with us every once and a while.

Did I behave badly? Yes. Did I throw a fit? Yup.

Mommy Throws A Fit

2011-10-01T20:30:00.000-04:00

I threw a fit tonight. A real whopper.

Tonight is Homecoming. Hannah's FIRST dance, her first dance as a high school student. We've spent hours every weekend shopping for "the" dress, shoes and accessories. We've been working on this for weeks. Weeks!

This afternoon we decided that Hannah needed a sweater or a jacket for her ensemble. Her dress is pretty strappy up top, and we had a cold front move in last night. This is the first night we will have used the furnace all season. We both agreed she was going to freeze and should have something pretty to wear over her dress.

The plans were for Hannah to meet at a friends house at 6 p.m., then the parents would each drive a leg of the "to dinner", "to pictures," "to the dance," "home from the dance" evening. The kids would text us parents as they needed rides.

About 3:30 I ran out to Macy's to grab Hannah a black bolo sweater, then on to Kroger to grab a bottle of fingernail polish remover so she could re-do her nails. While at Kroger I bought a few groceries, because I'm just like that. I was rushed, and a little frenzied, but I was finished and on my way home by 4:45, so I could help Hannah get ready.

About 4:46 my daughter texted me and told me she was heading over to her friends house. Uh, what? You weren't supposed to be going over until 6 p.m. I call her and get a half distracted conversation, since she wasn't paying attention to me but yelling at her brother.

At 4:50 I get home to a full dressed and made up girl walking out the door and start FREAKING OUT. Why? Uh, why did this friend change the meeting time from 6 to 5? At the last minute? Why had I just spent the last hour running errands for Hannah? She didn't need a sweater? She didn't need fingernail polish remover? I had JUST WASTED MY TIME.

And now, I was being denied the pleasure of "helping" her get ready...take pictures...because she didn't need me, and I needed to put my groceries away. I had missed everything because she sent me on her errands. I WENT OFF.

Cue poor behavior. Cue swearing. Cue slamming of doors.

Hannah left. I walked upstairs to find the disaster of the century in her bathroom.

More bad behavior and swearing.

And now, I am sitting here mad at myself and upset I am such a juvenile, fit throwing weenie, while Hannah is at her first dance. Not texting me.

I hope the other parents, who did drive legs of the evening, got some good pictures.

Roadkill

2011-09-27T20:25:00.000-04:00

Tonight, on the way to pick up Hannah from soccer practice there was a bit of roadkill in the middle of the road, which is not surprising, since we drive through back roads to get to the fields.

Upon passing this particularly gruesome spectacle, Bubba pipes up "Aww, the poor pig."

Cue the crickets.

I start laughing. "A pig? Uh...I think you have your species mixed up. THAT, my friend, was a possum."

Bubba starts arguing, "That was TOO a pig! A baby pig, lying dead in the road. Someone's family pet, lying in the middle of the road, DEAD, and YOU have no sympathy!"

I laughed the whole way to the field.

Dear Scary Guy,

2011-09-20T07:40:00.001-04:00

Dear Scary Guy,

Thank you for scaring the sh*t out of me each morning while I am walking my dog. I really appreciate how the only indications I have that you are lurking, are the glowing tip of your cigarette, and the way my dog starts FREAKING out when she smells you and your dogs.

Thank you, too, for eerily stopping and waiting while I am 100 feet away, and holding that pose until I am 100 feet in the opposite direction. The way you dress head to toe in dark colors? Just adds to your extra special persona. AND the fact that you have two ENORMOUS black dogs on scary choke leashes, that look like the demon dogs of hell, also does not convey "safe" person in my mind. Keep in mind, Scary Guy, that my dog may look like a 9 pound fur ball, but she'd rip your face off if you came close to me. I swear.

We live in a nice neighborhood Scary Guy. I would hope that you have some sort of livelihood that did not include the words "black-market" or "organs." I have informed key witnesses (my husband) that if I turn up dead in the creek, YOU are the first person that he should question after the appropriate time of weeping and mourning.

Air hugs and kisses,

Careless

Peanut Gallery

2011-09-14T19:51:00.000-04:00

So now that the soccer games have started in our family, the name calling has commenced. We, David and I, aren't name callers or too juvenile during Hannah's games for some reason, but last week at Bubba's first game, we started up again.

Maybe it's that we need to act like adults, or respectable parental types at high school soccer games, maybe it's because I have a cheat sheet of names/numbers for Hannah's team, but I NEVER call the girls on Hannah's team awful names like last year.

Sam's team? We only know three of the 15 players. It's a new team, therefore new names to learn, or make up. You choose. At least there wasn't alcohol involved this time.

So...there is "Gigantor," the 6' 200 pound 6th grader; "comb-over" or "hairspray", we use either, the kid with the hair that doesn't move no matter how hard he runs or if he falls; "Ginger," which is a pretty standard nickname; "other Michael," the guy who looks like Bubba's friend Michael, and my standby..."Dude" which encompasses any other child who is on the field that I don't know by name. Yes, I am the crazy lady on the side of the field yelling, "Down the line, Dude"...."Way to take a shot, Dude"..."What in the heck was that hospital ball, Dude?"

The weather has been so nice, we aren't sitting in the car. Yet. So David and I are either on two fields, with two children, texting our fingers off, making snide comments, OR sitting in lawn chairs together, watching Bubba's games being a little loud and obnoxious.

Say hello when you see us!

Dear IQ eighty employer,

2011-09-09T20:36:00.000-04:00

Dear IQ eighty employer,

Thank you so much for showing me why jobs are so hard to come by. In a rare (in 3 years of working in this town I have ONLY driven to pick up take out 2 times during a work day) fit of drive thru dining while running errands during my lunch break today I met your cashier. A gen-u-ine IQ eighty, SHOULD BE working at MacDonalds, incompetent.

When I went thru your drive thru I ordered a mighty kid's meal (for the apples). Upon proceeding to the cashier I handed her $10.56 for a $3.56 food bill. First, the cashier took my change and asked me how much I had given her so she did not have to count it. Second, the cashier asked me if I had handed her a ten dollar bill. And third, she had to ASK ME how many dollar bills I needed in return. She could NOT subtract 3 from 10. In her head. She said something incomprehensible about typing in the wrong amount and not being able to "do the math." I am honestly wondering if she needed optical aids, or if she was, in fact, dumber than some of my Kindergarteners.

Shame on you for placing that person at the cashier window. And shame on you for having her work DURING LUNCH TIME.

I'm beginning to think that you, too, are IQ 80.

Hugs and meaty kisses,

Careless

Escape!

2011-09-06T20:32:00.000-04:00

My vacuum broke about ten days ago. The beater bar end melted after 5 or 6 years of use, and the vacuum was kaput. So I jumped on the Bissel web-site and ordered a new one, thinking it wouldn't take but a day or two, but I was wrong.

Why, no, what, does this have to do with a story about Pepper the wonder glider escaping? You will see, my friend. You will see.

Last week I got the new beater bar for my vacuum, and I was very excited. Very excited that my daughter could resume her chore of vacuuming, and that it wouldn't seem as if I was picking up debris on my socks as I walked through my family room carpeting. The new beater bar part fit like a dream, and the vacuum sat waiting for the weekend when Hannah was free of soccer practice and homework. She promised to vacuum the WHOLE house.

Hannah also cleaned (took it outside and scrubbed it) the sugar glider cage and on Sunday night I went downstairs with her to check to make sure the cage and gliders were back in place.

Hannah and I checked the cage as Chili was doing his favorite thing in the world, riding his wodent wheel. We assumed Pepper-le-pew was napping in her shoebox, or lounging in her pouch, but I did not lay eyes on her. The doors to the cage were closed and locked. All was well.

On the way back up the stairs I had a Psych moment and flashed on a little black thing on the freshly vacuumed stair. We walked up to bed, and I tossed this little black thing from the stair around in my head, thinking that I probably should have actually laid eyes on Pepper before leaving the basement. Curiosity got the best of me and I drug Hannah back downy he stairs to lay eyes on Pepper.

No Pepper. But where could she be? The cage was closed. Upon further investigation, we noticed that the condo in the sky part of the cage (a second cage on top of their cage that has a dryer vent tunnel leading to it) was not connected correctly and one of the clasps was not hooked together.

Long about then Chloe saunters down the stairs. Chloe starts freaking out, chasing something...oh crap. Pepper. She is loose.

Grab the dog, throe her upstairs, and the squirrel hunt ensues. A half an hour later after dancing with a large Christmas tree and almost crushing Pepper with a stack of luggage Pepper was found, and back in the tightly locked cage.

Dear Macchio Man,

2011-09-06T17:35:00.000-04:00

Dear Macchio Man,

Thank you so much for your entertaining qualities. As I was driving down the freeway yesterday I noticed you in your FULL Macchio regalia. You had your seat reclined, arm hanging out the window, wearing your black and white bandana tied around your head and t-shirt with the arms cut off, driving a red mid 80's coupe.

Granted, you are quite a bit older than Ralph when he made Karate Kid, gauging by the crazy amount of hair on your face and creeping out of the neck of your shirt, chewbacca, but I could tell you still wanted to be JUST LIKE Mr. MACCHIO.

The thing that made me laugh even harder than all your macho manhood? The matching red Yankee Candle air freshener hanging from your rear view mirror.

Wow. That's about all I can say. WOW.

Hugs and hairy kisses,
Careless

Only Five Dollars!

2011-08-29T21:15:00.000-04:00

Thank you itunes for having your $4.99 movie sales. Sixteen Candles is on sale this week "to own" for only $4.99. Go get your copy! Jake...oh you handsome devil. I can't wait!

Burfday Boy

2011-08-29T20:12:00.000-04:00

Bubba had "the best birthday ever!"

Giant Nerf guns...electric guitars...angry birds.

I am usually opposed to wasting money on items like the crap mentioned above,

but A. I uncharacteristically waited until the night before to buy his gifts,

B. got everything he wanted,

and C. scored on clearance items!

Bubba decided at 11 a.m. that he wanted a Red Velvet cake,

and as I ran into Walmart to buy a mix I noticed the 6" cakes in the bakery.

Woot! Red Velvet!

Won Three to Zero

2011-08-29T20:07:00.000-04:00

Hannah's team won against their rivals this evening 3 to 0!

And, as usual, David and I need to brush up on our whispering skilz, because we

kept a few people in the stands entertained with our snarkey comments.

Success!

2011-08-27T17:29:00.000-04:00

As the week closes I am very thankful that I made it through the kid's first week of school and my first week of working full time successfully. I shuttled children. I managed to have dinner on the table each night. I kept up with the laundry. Each bed has clean sheets. The dog got walked each day. I found Bubba a birthday present. I finished my lesson plans. And I didn't kill or hurt any of my students. Success!

Number 2

2011-08-27T17:24:00.000-04:00

Today, on the eve of his birthday, Bubba received his soccer jersey for the new Fall rec league season. After last years horrific "watermelon" jersey we are very thankful that the newest addition to our jersey collection is a subdued camel and navy combo.

When Bubba went to choose his number he was given the choice of 1, 2, 3 or 4 because of sizing and the fact the he is one of the smallest kids on the team being that it is a 6-8th grade league. Yes, there are post-pubescent hairy boys on his team and it is freaking me out a bit, but I'm trying to adopt more of the "rub some dirt on it" attitude when he gets hurt. Bubba picked the number 2...which at the time I thought GREAT!

Hannah is also number 2 so it will be easy for me to root for

my kids with my Alzheimer's and all.

We arrived home to show David and Hannah the new jersey and

David chimes in with the inevitable...

"Wow, I didn't expect to have two number 2's in one day!"

Followed by Hannah's well timed...

"I love a good number 2."

Ahh...the potty humor.

I have a feeling this is just the beginning.

Dear Network Executives,

2011-08-27T15:46:00.000-04:00

Dear Network Executives,

Thank you so much for providing us with wonderful programming choices such as the newly discovered entry on my Time Warner listing "Perfect Boobs." No, I do not subscribe to the porn channels. This particular show could have been an infomercial, but needless to say what channel do you think my pre-pubescent boy is going to be attracted to when surfing the listings?

No, I am not a reality t.v. junkie. I have friends that watch the "Bachelor" faithfully after 100 seasons...I have friends that are bigs fans of show like "Ice Road Truckers." I have discovered a friends' dark secret obsession with "Keeping Up with the Kardashians," but honestly I never personally seek out reality t.v. shows. Okay, there is my family's occasional fascination with "Swamp People"...but that is quality programming. I love trying to count how many teef Junior has and love seeing the completely different lifestyle that is Swamp life. Maybe I just miss the southern accents we encountered in North Carolina. Who knows?

Oh wait, we also like "American Pickers" but that doesn't count either. Antiques and picking through peoples junk is normal behavior.

When did you, Network Executives, decide that reality t.v. shows and shows with names like "Perfect Boobs" were air-able?

I am seriously considering canceling my cable, but what would I do every evening? My ISP is bundled with my t.v. and I'd have to actually do something strenuous, like research, to change things.

Hugs and kisses,

Careless

Dear Mr. Superintendent,

2011-08-19T21:13:00.000-04:00

Dear Mr. Superintendent,

Thank you so much for your advanced thought in today's pre-school activities and the havoc they would wreck on my driving and scheduling. I really appreciate how you planned middle school AND high school orientation for EXACTLY THE SAME times. I guess ours is the only family in our district that has both an incoming freshman and an incoming 6th grader.

Both my children came home completely overwhelmed and freaked out that they were never going to make it from first period to second period and so on.

Not only did you plan the 3 orientation events (two middle schools and one high school) at the same time, but you created a traffic jam around the area of each school in question so as to make attending both impossible, picking up both your children impossible, and just plain a MESS in our usually traffic-less Stepford community. It took me a half and hour to travel the distance of a mile this morning because of your orientation geniousity and planning.

While we are on the subject of your mad planning skilz, let me also commend you for your let's get rid of half-day public Kindergarten and replace it with full day only on EITHER Mondays/Thursdays and every other Wednesdays OR Tuesdays/Fridays and every other Wednesdays except in the month of November. What? you are asking? What schedule is this? That is exactly what everyone in our community is asking. WTF? Yes, this new Kindergarten policy has provided me with a job, but can we all just say what WERE you smoking when you devised this? Not one person understands the schedule and how you devised this.

I understand that this master plan of yours saves the district money because of bussing, but seriously? What is the dollar amount? Can I write you a check?

Sorry, not your biggest fan at the moment.

XOXOXOX,

Careless

Dear Walmart People,

2011-08-16T08:52:00.000-04:00

Dear Walmart People,

Thank you so much for your entertaining ways, but I must confess I really do hate you. Not you personally, because I am not a hater, but your idiotic ways.

Yesterday I walked into Super Walmart because it was the closest grocery store (that sold edible produce) and you shocked me people. Repeatedly. Do I normally shop in snobby stores? No. I wouldn't consider Meijer, Target, Home Depot, Lowes, etc to be excessively snobby, but the clientele in my Walmart always has a way of stunning me with their behaviors.

Don't get me wrong, the web-site "People of Walmart" has such wonderful pictures of Walmart people in their full regalia, and I did see my fair share of those yesterday...yes I am talking to you "lady in the purple zebra print shortie daisy duke romper with high heeled black boots"...but the more shocking Walmart issue was the psycho parents. Has a child psychologist toured our fair country's Walmart's taking notes and secretly video taping? Because they would have a plethora of material for their "How NOT To Parent" series.

We witnessed the whiny "I want this" 4 year old that as soon as her mother would say no, she would pick up another thing and say "I want this." That parent might as well have just timed her "No's" to every 15 seconds. She didn't have to wait for her daughter to ask.

We witnessed the seemingly stoned parent who shuffled through the store pushing her cart, taking up the whole aisle, who in the coarse of the 6 minutes it took to get past her and her cart, lost her child 12 times. This parent, who was called "MaMa" but looked more like a "Maw Maw" walked away from her child 12 times. EVEN my kids rolled their eyes. That child needed a tether or the parent needed a triple shot.

Then there was the loud talking, boisterous pair of women with the Hannah Montana-ish rugrat that ignored their superstar child whilst she sang into her bedazzled microphone at the top of her lungs in the produce section.

The finale' was the obnoxious woman who sideswiped me to get into the "short line" with her cart of 196 items. Call me crazy, but if you see a person walking toward a check out line (me) you don't run at them with your cart so they stop to avoid injury of all children involved, just to cut in front of them in line.

Wow. About all I can say is wow Walmart.

Careless

Dear Airline Passengers and Staff,

2011-08-11T12:30:00.000-04:00

Dear Airline Passengers and Staff,

Thank you for teaching me how to stand in a boarding line and for correcting my errant ways in regards to carry on items. I know, it seems like I should have learned these skills after almost 41 years on this earth, after all I do fly usually 2 or 3 times a year, but I keep forgetting that boarding lines are different from normal lines and that airlines have screwed themselves with carryon rules.

Take for instance the boarding groups. On all four of our flights our boarding group was #2. The airline employee would make the announcement that they were about to board, and every person within shouting distance would come and stand as close as they could...seemingly in a line to cheek in. When our group was called, we went to stand in line and noticed the line was not moving. We'd ask the people around us if they were in line and they would say no. And stand there. So we'd weave ahead. Are you in line? No. Weave ahead. PEOPLE. You are standing in a line, but aren't actually in line. What the heck?

On one of our flights we as we wove up through the "line" of people I asked one woman if she was in line and her answer? "Yeah, everyone is!" (Insert snotty inflection here). Being me, I retorted, "Actually all these other people? Not so much. They are just standing here." And I walked ahead of the bitchy lady to the check in. Turns out? That lady was our seat mate. David and I made a point of sitting together on that leg so that bitchy lady would get the pleasure of sitting with our sugared up, slap flighting, fart-y children. Bitter? Naw. Grateful she corrected me. Thank you bitchy lady.

And don't get me started on carry on items! Mrs. American Airline employee who tackled me as I walked down the jetway with (gasp) 3 items rather than 2! So sorry. Again, thanks for correcting me.

I should insert here that we went with 4 backpacks instead of checking luggage. Each one of us carried a normal schoolchild sized backpack, and in addition, I carried my purse and small DSLR camera case. If you have flown recently you know that this baggage charge has created such a stir. Passengers carry these body bagged sized duffels, HUGE shopping bags full of weird crap, and basically break the rules on size with every bag. This evil AA employee lets a woman in front of our group head down the jetway with two ENORMOUS duffel bags, but as I start down the jetway she balks at my backpack AND purse AND camera case (three!) all of which would have fit in half of one of the other lady's duffel bags. David and the kids head down, and here I am being pulled aside so I can gate check one of my bags. Seriously?

Thank God David, not seeing me in the jetway, comes back for me and takes my camera bag as I am arguing with evil AA lady. Seeing that he has only a backpack, she agrees to his resolution.

I am muttering the whole way down the jetway until I remember I am on vacation. "Don't let evil airline employee ruin your vacation. Don't let evil airline employee ruin your vacation..."

Only one hug and one kiss (we wouldn't want to exceed our limit),

Careless

Texas

2011-08-11T11:59:00.000-04:00

Yes, fair readers. We went to Texas. We decided that August in Texas during a drought would be such a refreshingly cool vacation.

Seriously, the trip was a gift for David. David grew up in Texas and hadn't been back since middle school, and the kids and I had never been. Honestly, I had bad mouthed Texas and never wanted to go because of my monumental fear of snakes, but baby? I am sold. I loved it!

We started the whirlwind tour of Texas in San Antonio...

We toured the Alamo.

I NEVER knew that Texas had such beautiful pine and redwood trees.

Walked along the Riverwalk.

More Alamo. You know everyone told us that touring the Alamo is a bit strange because it is a historical monument in the middle of a city. I liked that it was close, and it didn't seem too strangely placed. The grounds of the Alamo are gorgeous and fun to stroll through!

Jalapeno Poppers...yum.

And swamp coolers! I heart swamp coolers!

A day at Schlitterbahn. Eh.

Off to North Houston for a few days.

The above restaurant was David's favorite as a kid.

David has talked about this restaurant for the 23 years we have been together.

He has dreamt of eating here for 30 plus years.

I hadn't changed a bit.

David's childhood home.

Chicken Fried Steak.

Brisket tacos?

LIVE cicadas.

A few days in Galveston on the beach. (Oh where are the pictures?)

Back to the Riverwalk.

GORGEOUS!

Another gorgeous building in San Antonio.

Food. Fun. Sun.

Fried

2011-08-07T23:07:00.000-04:00

Still on vacation...and fried. After bad mouthing all the mouthbreathers on the beach, we got back to our resort(yes,I'm a super snob) we discovered we were all lobsters. Even me...and I don't burn!

So much to tell

2011-08-03T22:22:00.001-04:00

We are on vacation! And I have no computer...just an iPod. Can't wait to share my pictures. Can't wait to tell you about our latest plane rides. Ohh and bipolar airline staff. More soon...do you want to guess where? I'll give you a hint. Davy Crockett...Sam Houston.

Dear Crazy "Be Kind to Dead Animals" person,

2011-08-01T14:27:00.000-04:00

Dear Crazy "Be Kind to Dead Animals" person,

Thank you so much for being so kind to the road kill right outside my neighborhood. I understand the type of person you are, but not why you did what you did. You are very kind to animals. You care. But, being kind to road kill? This is the circle of life baby. Be an adult.

The curious way you tucked the sheet of cardboard around the giant dead possum in the street was truly touching, but it also made the poor thing look like it was taking a nap in the middle of the street. His (?) little head was poking out of the cardboard like you had swaddled him in his blankie, NOT like he was dead and waiting for Mike Rowe's Dirty Jobs friends to come and pick him up. As my favorite line in Such A Pretty Fat said, the possum was taking a "nap on the side of the road after eating his jelly donut."

I am wondering about your intentions. I have had some over the top pet-owner friends that shower their pets with treats, carry them around in purses, and send them to daycare while they are at work, but none of them pampered the road kill. Please explain.

Hugs and Jelly Donut kisses,

Careless

Bubba

2011-07-30T19:08:00.000-04:00

Have you ever taken a picture of your child, looked at it and had a glimpse into the future? I took these pictures of Bubba last week while we were visiting a petting zoo with friends, and it was like looking at grown up Bubba. His face is changing. Bubba's birthday is only a few short weeks away, and sixth grade will be starting soon. Sniff. Sniff.

Dear Thirteen,

2011-07-30T09:57:00.000-04:00

Dear Thirteen,

If I did not love you so much, I would disown you.

Should I stop there? Or continue?

Thank you so much for your constant sass, your eye rolls, your cutting remarks, your continual negative spewing and your disrespect. Why is it that you are trying to get under my skin one minute, then, poof, you are a mature loving being the next? How do I survive you and your friends (years to come) without letting you under my skin?

Thank you, too, for my new favorite thirteen behavior. Entitlement. Your words to not profess entitlement, but your thinking and opinions do and it makes me bite back the age old sayings on the tip of my tongue such as "There are too many people in this world without food on the table..." "Most people in this world don't live in fancy houses like ours..."

Sweetheart, we love you. I would do anything for you. But stop acting your age!

Love and hugs,

Mom

Zero to Sixty

2011-07-20T21:07:00.000-04:00

My gorgeous girl went and got her haircut and grew up. Did I tell you that she has a boyfriend? Or should I say had. Bryce has been a fixture at our house all summer. We, David and I, made a point of inviting him over a few times a week, meeting his parents, spending time with him. David made a joke the other day that we couldn't move anywhere, because we would loose Bryce. He was over just last week for dinner, and we went and saw Harry Potter with him last Friday.

Last night Hannah walked out of the house around 8 pm and said "I'm going outside." Instantly I knew that she had been texting with our new neighbor (just met them last weekend) and she was going outside to meet him and his cousin from Kansas that was visiting. Around 10:30 I texted Hannah and asked her to please come inside (I had been peeking out the window and knew she was in the yard talking to these boys). Hannah was covered in 34 bug bites (love is cruel), smelled like Axe, and she came inside giving me attitude (and I quote "What?").

Excuse me? I started asking questions, because I am an involved parent, not a busy body and apparently Hannah decided she liked this other kid who lives 14 hours away and broke up with Bryce. What?

All day today I asked Hannah if I could text Bryce, and I made comments to Hannah on how much I was going to miss him and that she was crazy to break up with him. Hannah declared it would be creepy if I invited him over and continued to spend time with him. Duh. But it's like we ALL broke up with him. I'm involved with his family. His Mom and I have been doing stuff together. We all spent time together! When I texted David to tell him that Hannah broke up with Bryce, he too said he was sad, would miss him and wanted to know what was up with Hannah.

This was Hannah's first real boyfriend. I was kind of thinking that it would be a fairytale romance and Hannah and Bryce would meet at 13 and fall in love and get married 15 years later after a long celibate courtship. Am I being unreasonable?

Dear Construction Crew,

2011-07-20T20:34:00.000-04:00

Dear Construction Crew,

Thank you so much for waking me up at 6:30 this morning and ruining my gorgeous tomatoes. Weeks ago when I planted these beauties, I thought to myself, I should water them, nurture them, and stake them so you could squash them in a matter of minutes.

Today when you woke me up with the doorbell an hour before I was told you would arrive we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. I understand that it is freaking hot. I understand that you were trying to beat the heat. I really didn't care when you arrived, as long as I had time to cover my plants, cover my air conditioner so it didn't get scratched, and put my car out into the street. There was no time to prepare, and I consequently was a very crabby beheaded zombie.

When your foreman didn't answer his phone when I called to complain, because he was still sleeping? That was so fun! Thank you. I kept telling myself, tons of people don't even have roofs, or homes. I kept chanting Katrina. Joplin. Knoxville. My construction woes then seemed like nothing.

I'm so glad I took these photos a few days ago, so I can remember what once was. Pictures are better than real tomatoes. Right? There is always next year.

Sweet Cherry Tomato Kisses,

Careless

Dear Young Mommy Me,

2011-07-17T20:20:00.000-04:00

Dear Young Mommy Me,

Today as I jogged down the street I passed the cutest little Cozy Coupe sitting on the esplanade with a "free" sign taped to the front bumper. As I ran past I made note of the driveway so I could swing past the driveway later in my car to pick up the loot. But...who would use the brightly colored plastic car? I racked my brain. My kids are too big. EVERYONE's kids I know are too big. Even my nephew's son, my GREAT NEPHEW, is too big to drive the toy car.

I am officially not a young mother anymore. My kids are entering high school and middle school this Fall. Gone are the days of Cozy Coupes. Gone are babysitters, gone are car seats, gone are night lights (okay, maybe not that one), and gone are strollers. I am growing up, and so are my kids.

I had to run past the car, leave it behind for some younger version of myself.

Careless

Dear Movie Mommy,

2011-07-15T19:23:00.000-04:00

Dear Movie Mommy,

Thank you so much for being complete idiots. We are not going to sugar coat it here, but why in the HELL would you bring your three children under the age of 5 to the (wonderful by the way) PG-13 Harry Potter finale? No kidding. THREE children under FIVE. You, my friend, are an idiot. As well as a horrible whisperer and an awful "shussher."

A. Hire a babysitter. Spend the money you spent on their movie tickets and hire someone. They would rather sit on the floor and play blocks or go to the park, than sit quietly through a mature movie.
B. Those kids don't know who Harry Potter is, and are well under the age of 13.
C. You kids would have rather seen the Winnie the Pooh movie. Take one for the team and do something for your kids.
D. I doubt you kids haven't seen the previous Harry Potter movies.
E. Those important points of dialogue that we (your fellow movie goers) are interested in happens when YOUR kids were the loudest. And whiniest.

Yes, my date for the movie was 10, well under the recommended age of 13, but he HAS seen all of the other Harry Potter movies AND read all of the books. AND, by the way, he has previously won a Barnes and Noble Harry Potter costume contest. So there.

The incident today has posed the question...how young is too young for intense movies like Harry Potter? Let's look back a few years to 2007. The Pirates of the Caribbean At World's End movie was just coming out...my (then 7 year old) had seen all the previous Pirates movies on DVD, and my extended family was together (Sam is the youngest of all his cousins) and all wanted to see the new Pirates movie. David and I went back and forth. Sam begged. What to do?

David and I told Sam that he could go. We did also mention to him that we reserved the right to take him out or cover his eyes (without protest) AND we sat on either side of him in the theater, in the middle of the cluster of our group of 16...overprotective? Maybe. But did we think it through? Yes.

I digress. Back to the thank you note...Movie Mommy? Besides wrecking the experience for the rest of the theater, could you PLEASE stop your mouth breathing and consider listening to the needs of your children? You kids are babies and you should not expect them act interested in your stuff.

SHhhhhhh!

Careless

Dear Time Warner Cable,

2011-07-13T21:09:00.000-04:00

Dear Time Warner,

Thank you so much for taking your sweet time to restore my cable, internet and telephone services after Monday's tiny storm. I understand that I am a big baby. I know that I should be thankful for power, indoor plumbing, my gas stove, etc...but come on! Three days with no internet? I could do without telephone or cable t.v., but internet? It was torture.

Sure, some of my neighbors had trees in their driveways, but 3 days to restore service?

I know that I would never make it on the PBS hit Pioneer House, but please don't judge me for my addiction to my computer and all the pleasure it provides me. No, not in a creepy way. Get your head out of the toilet. I'm talking about hulu, blogs, e-mail, etc. Not porn.

Then, Time Warner, after denying me my vice, you were highly unhelpful on the phone. Your customer service rep "Ronnie" left me wanting to talk to someone with a brain. Or a personality. Something.

I am strongly considering cutting ties Time Warner. Strongly considering. But first, I need to find a new ISP.

Hugs and not so creepy kisses,

Careless

Dear Flea Market,

2011-07-09T19:09:00.000-04:00

Dear Flea Market,

It has been too long. After years of absence, we finally meet again today. This morning I surprised my husband and kids with a day spent together with you. And you came through. You delivered tons of entertainment.

Your booths and booths of wares. We reminisced over your Fisher Price toys, we laughed over your Jean Lu Picard commemorative plates, we drooled over your gorgeous leaded glass windows, and your hand tools.

You provided just the right amount of sun for our slathered up sunscreened bodies. Your breeze was amazing.

We people watched your oddly dressed, rednecked, tattooed customers. Your crazy people with their wares. Then we ate and ate. Your crazy good chuck roast sandwich roasted for 12 hours and slathered in grilled onions. Your BLT, your hamburger, your ice cream, your hand cut french fries.

You are a good friend flea market. I have missed you.

Hugs and sweaty kisses,

Careless

Dear People of Oblivion,

2011-07-07T13:41:00.000-04:00

Dear People of Oblivion,

I met your Queen yesterday at the grocery store. Thank you so much for introducing me to your royalty. While in the local Meijer (best produce ANYWHERE) I was traveling through the frozen food aisle when I happened on your Queen and her daughter. I tried to get down the aisle, but your Queen had not only one, but two carts blocking the aisle, and had left her 7 year old girl standing with them, IN THE CENTER OF THE AISLE. Have I mentioned that?

Your Queen was SO freaking intent on getting all the Banquet Frozen Salisbury Steak meals she could stuff in one of her carts, that I stood there and waited. And said excuse me. And had to endure the daughter's stares while I waited. Weird, should be in a scary movie, little girl exorcist stares. Seriously. I did not want her mother to reach around to put her arms loads of red boxes in the cart and slam into me, who knows why, maybe that would have snapped her out of her coma, but I finally I plow my way past the creepy little girl and your cartS. I was beginning to think I was a horrible wicked person and your Queen may be hearing impaired, but that was not the case.

We were subjected to your Queen a few more times as we made our way through the store, but the Pièce de résistance was when your Queen walked up to the self checkout lane with both carts and took forever to check herself out while the masses waited for her.

Sorry, I forgot to curtsy. Hopefully there won't be a next time.

Hugs and frozen kisses,

Careless

Dear Forties,

2011-06-30T09:30:00.000-04:00

Dear Forties,

Thank you so much for kicking my butt lately. It is so kind of you to remind me on a daily, no hourly basis, that things are just getting warmed up and I have 8.3 more years of you.

Last night when I went to the Sushi bar with some friends of mine (in their early twenties) it was really great that you made me pull out the grandma reading glasses so I could read the sushi menu. Then, when we left the restaurant you stung me again when the girls (frankly anyone female under 25 at this point can be called a girl) made the comment about how we should meet again because hanging out with me on a slow night for them wasn't so bad since I was twice their age. Ouch.

This week as I have dropped my child off for VBS each morning you have slapped me in the face with the fact that I am BY FAR the oldest parent with a participating child. Yes, Bubba is my youngest, but I still have some time left before I feel like I am twice the age of the girls there too, don't I?

Daily you remind me you are still here and laughing in my face when I run, get out of a chair, climb stairs, rise from sleeping, or any other gross motor movements. Are you kidding me? Please, please tell me that your good friend Fifty will be kinder to me.

First you took my muscles, and gave me aches and pains in return, then you took my eyesight and saddled me with reading glasses, then you took my smooth skin and gave me fly hairs growing out of my back, now you are taking the idea that I am young and fun, and turning me into an old hermit that would rather sit at home and read, sew and watch t.v., than go out to a social event. What is next, Forty? What is next?

Hugs and hairy kisses,

Careless

I Can't Wait for Puberty

2011-06-27T23:24:00.000-04:00

Last night Bubba spent the night at a friends house. He and his friend Josh are BFF's and while Josh has stayed with us a few times, this was the first time Bubba spent the night at his house.

After Sam arrived home I asked how the night went (great), what time they fell asleep (2:30), and what they did (watched Journey to the Center of the Earth). I got the standard answers, then after a few beats Sam said "After the movie Josh and I felt each other's arm pits and saw who had more arm pit hair."

Hannah, sitting at the kitchen table, looks up at me with wide eyes and smiles. I catch her smile and without skipping a beat ask Sam "Who had more?"

Sam replied, "Neither one of us really had any."

Hannah mumbles under her breath, "That is SO gay. Don't tell Dad he said that."

I Lost Bubba

2011-06-27T23:16:00.000-04:00

Today I drug the kids to this seriously ghetto place in Dayton called Mendleson's. Mendleson's is right downtown by the ball field housed in a huge (millions of square feet) old building crammed packed with old equipment, "lots" of things from businesses, hundreds of chairs and tables from restaurants, lockers and glass showcases, and floors of electronic and industrial junk. It is a fun, but weird place to visit and buy the obscure.

We drove to Mendleson's to look and see if they had any wire shelving to zip tie together construct a new squirrel habitat in the basement. If anyplace would have the necessary weird materials to make a squirrel habitat, it would be Mendelson's.

This is our second trip to Mendelson's since moving to Ohio and I can't say that I feel super comfortable perusing the store, but I knew what to expect and NOT to take a shower before our shopping trip. While the three of us were walking through the aisles, Bubba was doing his usual "Pokey Puppy" routine and was lagging behind. While I'm not a big fan of this, I am hyper aware of Bubba straying with all the crazy clientele in the maze that is Mendelson's. We were just walking back up to the exit, having given up hope of finding the squirrel necessities, when I turn to Hannah and ask, "Where is your brother?"

Hannah and I start looking around the area, occupied by less than a handful of people, when suddenly I start to panic. Where is he? Did I loose him in the store? Did he sit down and start playing his ipod? OH MY GOSH! I start calling his name...Sam! Sam! Where are you buddy? No answer. I start frantically looking. A large, hugely obese man shuffles to the left and lo and behold I see my son. Standing there. Looking at me like I'm a crazy person.

Sam was behind the fat man the whole time and I didn't see him. Hannah looks at me and physically bites her tongue.

Dear Betty Crocker,

2011-06-26T19:54:00.000-04:00

Dear Betty,

Thank you so much for making such a delicious product. Words cannot express the amount of love I have for your fudge brownies. The happy red box. The easy prep. The mouth watering result. I dream of your brownies. I plan events just so I can make your brownies. You are the cause of many hours and miles on the bike and on the street running off your yummy product.

If asked my favorite food, the answer is ALWAYS Betty Crocker brownies. NOT Ghirardelli. NOT Hersheys...Dunken Hines...Pillsbury. None of those brands can match your taste, your perfect crunch and crackle. No bakery can produce such a product as yours, and God forbid someone adds a nut to a brownie and tries to offer it to me.

As a gift, last year, I received an all edge brownie pan and it has changed my life. The problem is that the all edge brownie pan I now own has three channels for brownie. There are four of us in our family, and unless one of us is gone, there isn't a good way to break up three rows for four people.

Once the red fudge brownie box is in my pantry it calls to me. It beckons me to make it. To eat it. I can't leave the box alone, it gets lonely. I get lonely.

Hugs and fudgey kisses,

Careless

Nine Lives

2011-06-26T16:03:00.000-04:00

Can dogs have nine lives? I love (most days) my 9 pound Chloe, but last night, again, she proved to be indestructible.

First, Chloe is a rescue dog. She showed up on a friends doorstep on Christmas day 2004, after living in the woods for what was possibly months. At nine pounds I can't imagine how many hawks, coons and other wild animals she encountered and conquered.

Since coming to live with us in January of 2005 Chloe has been run over by a bike, ingested an entire corn cob and passed it painfully after a few days, had kidney problems, jumped out of a stopped car in a school parking lot and made her way inside to find me, suffered many a blow to the head from children playing basketball and soccer, Chloe has taken off after me when I have driven away from home, she has chewed her way thru a wooden gate, peed her way thru every airport she has flown thru, and lost all her teeth, just to name a few incidents.

And last night? While visiting my brother in law and hanging out with his family in their backyard, Chloe found a mouse trap and set it off on her tongue. Yes, her tongue.

No, we are not negligent.

Dear Axe Body Spray,

2011-06-23T20:59:00.000-04:00

Dear Axe,

Yesterday when Hannah's new friend Bryce got in the car, please do NOT take offense that Sam asked what smelled. Sam did not mean to accuse you, Axe, and imply that something was malodorous.

Leave it to little brothers, Axe...come on, you have got to understand that there was no harm intended on your good teen product name. Bryce smells good, and the sudden change in the car from old farts and buffalo breath, to nice clean boy smell, was just a sudden shock.

Bryce "claims" that it wasn't you, Axe, but just soap and pit stick, but we know the truth. Teenage boys really stink. Puberty does funny things to their smell. Your product is a godsend, Axe, but PLEASE, PLEASE remind them that it is best in small doses.

Thank you, Axe. From all of us.

Hugs and stinky kisses,

Careless

Dear Bank Teller,

2011-06-23T16:37:00.000-04:00

Dear Bank Teller,

Thank you so much for putting up with my 10 year old. You were very kind and patient with us when we showed up to change his allowance money into singles. You, smartly, counted all twenty (2 months worth of allowance) ones back to him so he would not think you "jipped him on anything."

Thank you, too, for patiently answering his questions about how many ones you keep on hand at the bank, in case he wanted more, and you very smartly commented on how thick 20 ones looked in his wallet. You, my friend, are a pro.

Unfortunately normally I think your bank sucks. Your bank has personally screwed me and my husband too many times to count and it makes my blood boil just to walk into your lobby. But you, nice bank teller lady, redeemed your employer just a little today. A TINY bit.

And, no, Bubba is not going to a strip club, which is I am sure what you were thinking when he asked for his bills to be broken into ones, he is not longer extended credit at the Bank of Mom, and has to pay for his itunes apps as I type in the itunes password. Just in case you were wondering.

Hugs and single kisses,

Careless

Dear Recumbent Bike,

2011-06-21T08:38:00.000-04:00

Dear Recumbent Bike,

Thank you so much for kicking my butt every morning. Ever since I ran 5 miles last Wednesday, I haven't been able to walk, ne sit in a chair for extended periods of time, but you, exercise bike, have made it so I can still burn some calories.

The strange thing, exercise bike, is that you make me sweat weird. Don't take this the wrong way, but why does sweat drip down my arms like James Brooks in Broadcast News when I am riding a bike? It seems that my arms, lying flaccid at my sides get more action than my quads.

And can I say that you are not very helpful when you flash my results at the end of my session and you give me some weak number like 300 calories burned when I have just worked my butt off for 40 minutes! I am expecting better numbers from you, bike! How am I supposed to work off whole pans of brownies and, let's face it, 5 or 6 donuts when YOU can't make that burned calorie number higher?

Well, thank you exercise bike. I appreciate all you have done for me, now I am going to go and make you my bitch.

Hugs and sweaty kisses,

Careless

Dear Hasbro,

2011-06-19T22:19:00.000-04:00

Dear Hasbro,

Thank you for making the Nerf products. This week we purchased ANOTHER one of your Nerf guns for a birthday present, the gift of choice of young Samuel. Bubba is a huge fan of Nerf and owns 4 or 5 of your rapid fire guns.

This evening, upon dropping my child off at her crushes' house, Hannah and her crush went and showed their age and innocence by running off to play Nerf war with their younger brother and sister. Yes, the war was played in the dark, in the basement, and there were times that Hannah and her boy crush were alone in the dark...when she spills her guts to me tonight I'll ask if boy-crush FINALLY made his move and held her hand, or, gasp, kissed her.

But Nerf, it made my heart swell with the fact that there was a little "kid" left in her after all. Thank you for that.

Hugs and rapid fire (hopeful) kisses,

Careless

Don't Touch the Hair

2011-06-19T14:13:00.000-04:00

Yesterday morning I realized I had scheduled a hair appointment for 9:30 a.m. that day. When it dawned on me I looked in the mirror and thought, man, I don't really need a haircut, but I will go because it is RUDE not to show for an appointment.

I get to the salon (let's face it, it is in a strip mall and it has a cheesy name, but it is still technically a salon) and check in. The receptionist tells me she will let Andrea (pronounce On-dre-a, not And-dre-a) know I am there. The clock ticks by. Five minutes pass. Ten pass. Andrea comes out of the back room with cell phone to her head motioning to her chair while she talks on the phone about "camp." I groan. I have been going to this woman for 2 years, and ALL this woman EVER talks about is Girl Scouts. Nothing against the Girl Scout organization, it seems like a fine wholesome thing to have your daughter participate in, but I am tired of hearing about the drama in her troop, I am tired about listening who has to sleep next to who in the tent, I am tired about hearing about how she has to leave work to run to Micheal's to get extra craft materials...I am just tired of Andrea's talk.

Andrea FINALLY gets off the phone (RUDE!) and starts to go on about what supplies and how far they are going to hike at camp. She does not greet me. She does not ask me how I would like my hair cut. She does not ask me how I AM DOING. She just starts talking about freaking Girl Scouts and cutting my hair. And I grow quiet, too quiet. And get pissed.

If you know anything about me, or have spent any time with me, you would know that if I suddenly grow very quiet, it is usually that I am so supremely pissed off that I can't speak. Either that or I am hungry. Maybe distracted. But, most times when I am quiet? Watch out. I AM PISSED. I guess I take after my Dad in that respect.

Andrea finally shuts up for a second and I tell her that it is summer and I want my hair a bit shorter, but since it has only been about 4 weeks since my last haircut (I had to schedule this soon because of freaking Girl Scout camp next week) not too short. Andrea pulls out her card* that lists my last 15 haircuts and the measurements on how she cut it and takes a peek. (* Remember this card. This is key.) Andrea proceeds to cut my hair, pulls out the blow dryer, OH NO SHE DIDN'T and puts a LARGE wad of goo in my hair and starts blow drying it with one of those large round scratchy brushes. UH-HUH? My face must have gone from pissed to puckered up, because what the heck? She took one look at me and immediately stopped.

By this time? My hair was sticking S*T*R*A*I*G*H*T off my head. Like I had stuck a finger in a light socket. Andrea pulled out the mirror and showed me the back like she was proud. I looked at it, ran my fingers through the obvious shelf-y bumps and must have puckered harder. Andrea asked if how it was and I commented with a fine, getting up out of my chair and taking the drape off.

I went up front, paid and left.

So, I figure I get my haircut every 5 weeks or so, so that would be roughly 10 haircuts a year. I have been going to Andrea for 2 years and change...that means she has cut my hair over 20 times. When I first started going to Andrea I filled out my client card* and noted a few things about my hair preferences. First, I NEVER want my hair blowed dry. I don't do it at home, it is a large waste of time since when the stylist does it it looks like cotton candy old lady hair, I just hate the blow dryer. Second, I noted I love short hair, but never want it to look too butch, mannish or stereotypically lesbian spiky. Third, I don't want a distinct shelf in the back of my hair. I did that for years, and it just isn't my current look. Fourth, I don't like those scratchy brushes like my Mom used to rat the crown of her hair with. They are a thing of my childhood and it gives me the creeps. Back when I filled the thing out I thought the client card was a great idea...get all my dirty laundry in the air, BUT TODAY SHE DIDN'T DO WHAT I ASKED.

Add the fact that I looked like I stuck my finger in a light socket to the fact that I can't stand her Girl Scout nonsense...I will not be returning.

I went outside to get in my car and remembered that I needed to stop at the store to get coconut for a dessert that Hannah was making for a party we were going to. As I was driving to the store madly looking for something in the car to plaster my hair down with, it started to rain. I parked and walked out into the rain hoping my hair would get sopping wet on the walk into the store.

Dear Neighbors,

2011-06-17T15:14:00.000-04:00

Dear Neighbors,

Thank you for your warm and generous hospitality to others. It is so wonderful that you beautified your yard with an in ground pool and volleyball court recently, and that you have a constant stream of gangly teenage boys in droopy swim trunks trying to woo your gorgeous blonde twin high school girls.

We have had such a long and rainy spring then surprisingly hot spring, it has been a welcome change to have had this week of 75 degree days and 55 degree nights. Now that these "perfect" days and nights are here and I do NOT have to have my air conditioner running full blast all night, I am sleeping with my windows open. Last night, while trying to get to sleep from 10:30-11:30 it was a little frustrating to have the beach bums holding a raucous game of volleyball outside my window. No, I am not employed. No, I am not a senior citizen. I just like to go to bed by 10 most nights. And, might I say, that if I am horizontal, I am fast asleep within seconds, which is a gift AND a curse, but I digress.

Thank you, mainly, for your privacy fence so us lookey-loos can't see you having all these parties. EVERY night. EVERY weekend. With NO invitation to us common folk outside the walls of your newly constructed compound, mind you. And thank you, too, for said privacy fence so I don't have to look at my child's teachers and former teachers in their bathing suits, since you work at the Elementary and are BFF's with every teacher my son has ever had for some strange coincidence. Better seen than heard in this instance. My retinas thank you.

Hugs and wet kisses,

Careless

Dearest Verizon,

2011-06-15T08:23:00.000-04:00

Thank you so much for offering unlimited texting as an option in our calling program. For only $5.00 a month my daughter can keep in contact with a boy. Every minute of her waking hours. She can have a cyber-relationship with a new boy, stay in contact with me and David (when it is convenient), talk with her girlfriends, sit next to someone on the couch and carry on a conversation with them while watching a movie (I actually find this refreshing since I DO NOT like movie talkers) and receive texts from strange boys who apparently like kittens.

Hannah has a new boy in her life. This one is for realseys. He actually CAME OVER TO OUR HOUSE twice already this week. And it is Wednesday! AND we met his parents! But thanks to you, Verizon, Hannah and said boy can text each other upon waking, text each other throughout the day and even text each other back and forth "eney meeny miney mo" to see which house they are going to hang out at. Without you, Verizon, I would be paying 5 cents a text x (conservatively) 1000 texts a day...basically I would be poor because of this child's texting.

Why do I allow my child the ability to text? Who is the parent in this family? I know Verizon. I am the parent. You are right, Verizon, if I wanted to do something about this I could. But at the old age of 13.75, Hannah has a boy that is a friend, who is REALLY great in a not so Eddie Haskell way, and wants to spend time with her. It is like I am experiencing High School all over again, I mean, it's that I am trying to help Hannah make good relationship choices. You and your texting, Verizon, have made dating such a foreign thing. Gone are the days of waiting by the phone for a boy to call. You have made it so that girls can have "boyfriends" without actually having face to face time with them. Some of the awkwardness is being alleviated.

Thank you Verizon, for your support in all of this. Believe me, I know you are reaping the rewards with the amount of money I pay you each month and the "opportunity" to upgrade my phones coming up this month.

XOXOXOX,

Careless

The Chilean People

2011-06-13T09:47:00.000-04:00

Dearest People of Chili,

Thank you so much for making my introduction to your ingenious product such a smooth and buttery one. I am newly acquainted with your product and am quite happy I took the chance and purchased your sinfully yummy drink.

I am quite finicky and have had some poor reactions to other products in the past, but your red ambrosia soothed me after a long days work moving 8 tons of dirt in our yard.

Whilst I have been a fan of the Australians in recent years, your sheer genius in producing such an excellent product has demoted the great people of Australia to second place in my book. I am now hearing the great chants of "Malbec....Malbec...Malbec" in my dreams.

Keep up the good work!

Hugs and drunk kisses,

Careless

8th Grade Boys

2011-06-10T20:36:00.000-04:00

I spent the morning volunteering at the 8th Grade Farewell party. Mind you, my 8th grader is a girl, but 8th grade boys are weird! 5 minutes after arrival I was thrust into the position of first base ref for one of the kickball stations.

Of coarse, because it is kickball and 14 year old kids, one of the boys gets hit in the junk at the end of the first inning. While he is rolling around on the ground at my feet another boy (Daniel) walks up to me, assesses the situation and starts describing a recent event in his life where a friend of Hannah's grabbed him by his junk and gave it a twist. He went on to vividly describe the resulting vomiting and pain.

Seriously. I knew neither of the boys. Is this what 8th grade boys discuss with strange 41 year old women? The balls of these kids, I tell ya!

Thank You

2011-06-09T20:56:00.000-04:00

Thank YOU for putting up with me. I have been missing lately. And not too much fun to be around on the blog, or in person.

Please excuse my moodiness. It is not you, it's me. I am struggling with some things in my life, and with time, I will recover and be stronger. I know it is a process, but honesty, therapy and prayer will heal me.

Just like when you are sick, or after a loved one dies, it seems like you are in slow motion and the world around you moves by and others take the joys of everyday life for granted.

Here is what I have learned, need to remember daily (and can share) so far:

I am hard on myself. I don't say nice things to myself and often interpret others remarks toward the negative.

God can give you faith for tomorrow in a situation that seems hopeless.

I need to be independent and have independent interests.

I need some self confidence.

Moving 3 times to 3 different states has given me wonderful friends, but also made me lazy when it comes to keeping in touch or making friends in my current location.

I know, it seems strange that someone with my engaging personality and good blog presence can be such a downer, but we all go through crap in our lives, and sometimes it's nice to hear just that: other people struggle too. It is nice to hear that things will be okay. God will give us the faith we need and promises to never leave us or forsake us.

Things WILL be better. Thank you for putting up with me.

Dear Painting Crew,

2011-06-09T08:02:00.000-04:00

Dear Painting Crew,

Thank you so much for all your hard work beautifying my neighborhood with your dilapidated vehicles and parking along both sides of our residential street for the past two weeks so each one of my neighbors and myself have to drive through your obstacle course of cars to get to and from our homes. The thing I am most thankful for, though, is one truck in particular that has a set of steel testicles hanging from the rear of their truck bed. This one particular pornographic accouterment has encouraged such interesting discussions at our home.

Thank you for being such a FREAKING redneck that you decide that it is okay to hang testicles from your truck. My teenage daughter also appreciates your panache. She has learned so much from you and your truck. As we were weaving by the other day she commented on how your testicles looked like a rear end, and I got the pleasure of explaining to her that those were in fact testicles and you had some sort of insecurity complex so you needed an extra pair. This realization has opened her eyes to the world around her. It is almost as if she is learning the truth of the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus, she is now asking me to interpret other foul bumper stickers and car charms.

Thanks so much for everything!

Hugs and sloppy kisses,

Careless

Dear Super Mom,

2011-06-04T07:41:00.000-04:00

Thank you so much for allowing your child to come over to our house for a school project/play date on Thursday. I know, I know, that I must have seemed a little unrealistic when I suggested the two boys could get together after school sometime, but I real appreciate the way you went through Super Kid's schedule and found an hour of time for Bubba. I was so kind of you to be able to fit Bubba in only 10 days from the original request.

I understand what with guitar lessons, softball, other play dates, and all the other myriad of tasks you set out for your son that you plan each hour of your child's life with a Daytimer. Who wouldn't?

I also appreciate how over prepared Super Kid was for the 58 minutes Bubba was allowed to spend with him. It was so kind of Super Kid to bring an electric guitar, amp and music to my house to really show Bubba his mad guitar skills and make Bubba feel like the idiot child.

The best part of the whole 58 minutes for me, though, was when you corrected me. THAT was really kind of you to show me the error of my thinking. In front of my child. I really needed to be reprimanded. Let's make sure we get together again soon. I'll check my calendar and get back to you.

Hugs and sloppy kisses,

Careless

A Big Thanks to Macys!

2011-06-01T15:52:00.000-04:00

Dear Macy's-

Thank you so much for hiring sales associates that work for commission sales. A few days ago I was in your store making a purchase for my husband and came across one of the worst sales associates I have ever encountered in my 23 years of adulthood shopping. And THAT is saying something given the lack of the oxymoronic phrase "Customer Service" in the last few years (right Jennifer)?

Let's start with her appearance. Whilst a black cami is always a good choice under a sweater for those just in case wardrobe malfunctions (funny story about me and my lack of cami's later), the shear Frederick's of Hollywood cami this certain employee was wearing was inappropriate given she was having a major wardrobe malfunction. Her sweater had come unbuttoned and her 60 year old cleavage was on display for all to see.

Secondly, when I walk up and am obviously in a hurry to check out with my one item, when said ASSociate makes eye contact with me, asks me if I am ready to check out and takes my purchase from my hand, I am pretty convinced that she IS NOT going to lay it down and walk away to help someone else. I was very offended that this sales associate was so bent on multitasking, but sucked at it.

When I went back to your fine store the next day to return the item, since it did not fit my husband, I was very irritate to see that the SAME employee was doing THE EXACT same moves...making eye contact, asking to be helpful, then walking away. I am was very happy to be returning my item and will be taking ALL my purchases to another check stand from this point forward.

Hugs and sloppy kisses!
Careless

Pool Advice

2011-05-31T16:09:00.000-04:00

Hannah went with some friends to their "membership only" pool yesterday and as she was getting ready she asked if I would rub some sunscreen on her back, since we all know she will burn like a lobster if sunscreen wasn't applied (I told you about her trip to King's Island a few weeks ago? Were she burned her chest and left the mark of the necklace she was wearing on her neck?)

Anywho...Hannah is running out of the house in a bikini top and Daisy Duke-ish black swim shorts, rushing to meet her friends when David see's her and her two triangles and a strip of cloth swim top and FA-reaks out. He was going all "You don't have enough clothes on"..."Where is the rest of your top"...on her. She, in typical teenage fashion, rolls her eyes ignoring him and bends down to give him a kiss telling him goodbye.

I, too, receive a kiss and ask her to text us later.

As she walks out the door, David yells after her..."MAKE SURE YOU KEEP YOUR BOOBS IN YOUR TOP!"

Excellent advice, my friend. Excellent advice.

Big Thank You to Hannah

2011-05-26T19:49:00.000-04:00

Dear Hannah,

Thank you so much for making my job interview that much more special this afternoon. Leaving me with a little piece of you, just made me feel so special.

When I got home from my hour long aptitude test and took off my dress up clothes (black pants and a big girl top that wasn't too Garanimal-ly) I was so touched when I found that the reason my pants "felt funny" during the test and I was a little squirmy, was because your animal bedding was sticking out the back of my pants. One of the bright blue strips of fleece your sugar gliders use to make their nest each night was such a sweet reminder that you wished me well on my new venture.

Here I thought brushing my teeth, combing my hair, wearing just the right amount of jewelry, ironing my clothes was all I needed for luck. Little did I know that a royal strip of fleece hanging out the back of my waistband was something to look for.

I'm never going to get a job. Get used to dry spaghetti sweetheart.

Love you,

Mom

IQ 80

2011-05-26T17:06:00.000-04:00

It is the end of the school year...only 7 more school days to go! Woot! And so the "what am I going to do with my life" inner turmoil begins again. This coupled with the fact that the job economy for David currently isn't great, I applied for a job. A real job. A 40 hour a week, have to wear shoes and brush your hair every morning before work job. You know, the real kind of job where you don't get paid by the hour, but by the year...gasp.

So I applied for a job last Saturday as I was surfing the net wondering what I want to be when I grow up, and low and behold...I got an interview. Seriously. They called on Monday and wanted to schedule an interview with little ole' me. (This is where I either faint from relief that I am marketable at 41, or where I faint that I have to go and put on nice clothes and talk to someone and make it seem like my IQ hasn't dropped 50 points since I had kids.)

Before the interview, I had to take some online ethics test and a personality test. Whatever. Doesn't seem too weird. Or hard. Until...dun...dun...dun...they said the first step in the interview process is an aptitude test. A what? A...CRAP! They sent over a few examples and I started giving it a little looksie. Can I detect sequential patterns? Uh...sure...that looks...um...ok...ay. The next section measures spatial relationships. Uh...crap. I may have a problem with that. The final section? Math aptitude. Crickets are chirping. Math? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?

Did you all know that I was an Art major? Seriously. NO MATH. Zero. So I read the first example: In a certain company, 30 percent of the men and 20 percent of the women attend night school. If 40 percent of all employees are men, what percent of all the employees attend night school?

I take out my handy dandy pencil and start scratching out some answers. Um...percentages...should be easy enough. I am a pro a figuring percentages at the store. No problems. I scratch a few ideas out and finally my answer matches their provided example's answer. Whew. Okay.

Nine other sample questions prove to me that I still have no business doing math. I manage to muddle through 2 or so, but who here remembers algebra? (Besides David and David and Rob, I'm guessing). So, the age old question...could YOU pass an algebra aptitude test? I just got home from the test (what will be, will be) and am feeling very IQ 80.

More Thank You's

2011-05-24T14:27:00.000-04:00

Gosh, this "Thank You" note thing is really easy! So many people...so little time...

Dear Platinum Blonde Jeep Driver,

Today as I was wondering how to get my father and his cane in and out of the restaurant at the Mall I so much appreciated how you skipped out to your Jeep in your stiletto's and jeggings and took your handicapped placard off your visor. It was so helpful to see that you thought since you had all those shopping bags to carry, that you needed that rock star parking space for you and your big hair. I just love how the blue in the handicapped placard picked up the blue in your eyes and sparkly rings.

I did question your need for the handicapped spot, but then when you drove out of the lot ahead of me I finally understood why you needed said spot, you are retarded. Or visually impaired. One of the two...since after I loaded my father and mother back into my car, you tried to run me off the road (do you check your mirrors?) as you decided to make a left turn from the right hand lane.

Hugs and sloppy kisses,

Careless

Thank You Notes

2011-05-24T09:55:00.000-04:00

I am NOT a late night person. Our family's routine is that the t.v., internet and phones go off around 9 most nights, then we get ready for bed and talk, do sudoku, read until we are asleep.

Let's face it. We are the Boringtons. But as you can tell from previous posts, we are snarkey. So when I heard about Jimmy Fallon's new book "Thank You Notes" based on his late night segment...I was instantly smitten. I saw this new book being plugged the other morning and about died laughing.

So...I think I should start my own segment of Thank You Notes. Let me have a go...

Dear Blue Pickup Driver,

Thank you so much for trying to run me off the road with your scary empty trailer multiple times the other night. The 10 hour driving trip I took last Sunday was made so much more pleasant by the fact that you were on the road with me during those "just twilight" hours when I was trying allow my eyes to adjust to the darkening skies.

I really appreciated how you sped up to pass me then slowed down to cut me off, it really helped me stay alert and pass the hours. Over and over again. Your dilapidated trailer was so interesting, and made me smile as it's flickering rear tail lights winked at me as they threatened to smack into my bumper. Repeatedly. It was almost as if you didn't realize someone had attached this 15 foot extension of death to your truck.

Thanks, too, for driving down the middle of two lanes. I appreciate how you left me a lane to weave in and out of. I am so impressed by the driving and drivers in the great state of Kentucky, and had so many things to say about your skills. Even my 74 year old mother had so many things to say about you.

I hope the next time I have to drive to and from my brother's house you will make another appearance!

Hugs and sloppy kisses,

Careless

Shopping with My Girl

2011-05-20T21:10:00.000-04:00

Last night Hannah and I went out shopping because her game was cancelled, due to rain. My 5'5" string bean with a size 10 shoe needed a few things.

We walked into TJ Maxx and started looking around. Hannah saw a shirt she liked and in true Hannah fashion stripped her hoodie off and tried the shirt on over her cami in the middle of the aisle. I'm rolling my eyes at modesty going on in the middle of the aisle.

A few minutes later I see a dress I really like, and channeling my daughter, say "cover me" and proceed to try the dress on OVER my t-shirt and track pants in the middle of the dress aisle. Hannah jumps in to help me with the zipper and a girl Hannah's age comes around the corner and sees the two of us struggling with the zipper. The girl freezes and surveys the scene in the middle of the aisle and turns on her heel and leaves.

Hannah bursts out laughing and I hurriedly try to get the dress off without ripping it.

Yes, we're the two freaks trying stuff on over our clothes in the store.

Kick It Up A Notch

2011-05-20T20:58:00.000-04:00

Tonight we decided to kick it up a notch at the soccer game. David and I sat in the car and ate our picnic lunch...chicken salad sandwiches and chips...with....wait for it...cocktails. Did you know that you can buy these frozen pouches of alcoholic drinks at Walmart???

David just reached in the freezer, grabbed a frozen pouch, ripped the top open and consumed his adult Margarita flavored freezer pop.

Did the 5% alcohol help our game banter? No, but the kid on the other team with the craziest bowl haircut, think Moe, I've ever seen is now dubbed "George" after our favorite Mario Cart course, Mushroom Gorge.

An Oldy, But A Goody

2011-05-18T19:55:00.000-04:00

I was talking with my brother today and he mentioned that his daughter got her hair cut. It's not like this is any major milestone, but you should know my niece has long white blond hair (like mine when I was a kid) and hasn't had her hair drastically cut in a LONG time, so it was a bit of a big deal in their family. With two older sons, my brother was a little worried about their reaction at the big reveal.

Matt and I were reliving the famous family story of my sister and her haircut some 25 or so years ago. My brother and sister worked for our Dad at the time. My sister worked in the front office, and had left the plant to go and get her hair cut at lunch.

An hour or so later my Dad called an impromptu emergency crew meeting. My Dad walks into the room with all his employees and says, "If any one of you says anything about Laura's hair...your fired," then turns and walks out of the room.

Aww...fatherly love.

My Idol Boy

2011-05-17T20:59:00.000-04:00

Today was the finale for the American Idol contest at Bubba's school. Bubba and his buddy made it to the final 6...but we won't know the "winner" until the end of school. I love my boy, and think he is the sun, the moon, the stars, but seriously? I'm not holding my breath.

I'm stunned and impressed that he sang A cappella AND danced in front of the whole freaking school. We had a few rough spots, like when Bubba came home and told us that for the final he was going to sing "It's Raining Men."

Crickets chirping.

Delicate conversation rehearsal going through my head...David butting in and bluntly telling Bubba that the song is gay.

I jump in and delicately tell Bubba that as a finishing 5th grader he would be potentially committing social suicide (as an incoming middle schooler) and would forever be labeled as the kid who sung "It's Raining Men."

Today, after the end of the American Idol drama, Bubba announced that he was going to be singing "Eye of the Tiger" at the upcoming talent show.

Do I need to stop letting my child watch Glee?

Peanut Gallery

2011-05-16T20:27:00.000-04:00

My husband and I are freaks. We have been sitting (too lazy to get out) in the car to watch Bubba's soccer games lately. Even when it's sunny and nice! One of the reasons why we sit in the car is because my husband's mouth cannot be trusted.

To entertain ourselves we make fun of people. I know it's wrong, oh well.

We make up names for kids on the opposing teams. It all started last year when this boy with long reddish hair was trying to keep up with the big dogs on the field, making us feel sorry for him. We started calling him "Cinnamon." Go cinnamon! Go cinnamon, go, go cinnamon!

There has also been "nut sack" named by David because he took one in the nuts during a run in with another player. "Look, nut sack just scored! Way to go Nutsack! Way to rebound Nutsack!"

"Transitions" is the kids with the self darkening glasses that was trying to score on the Bubb-ster. Did I tell you that Bubba has been playing goalie for half a game these days?

These pet names (even when the kid has his name written on the back of his jersey) are the brain child of David, because he always purposefully screws up names just to make us crazy.

Last weekend (during our 3 consecutive games) we had the windows down and were sitting in the car when my darling husband decides to start talking about one of the kids on OUR team. I give him the "DO NOT TALK" crazy eyes and whisper through gritted teeth that the kid's Mom is sitting in the car next to us with her windows down. David catches on and rebounds by finishing his talk about this kid with a "he's doing such a great job and is making progress" mumbo-jumbo. This woman HAD to know that he was full of crap after listening to our snarkey name calling.

MIA

2011-05-16T20:06:00.002-04:00

I know. I am a looser. I am going to be/do better again. Promise.

Cry Like A Baby

2011-05-03T20:25:00.000-04:00

So I am sitting here watching my weekly does of Glee when all the sudden it goes to an ad and I start BAWLING like a baby over a commercial. B A W L I N G. Not my hormonal, girley, Hallmark commercial tear up, but an all out bawl.

The commercial? An organizational called ItGetsBetter.org

Have you seen the commercial? It is YouTube-like videos, notes, posts, that gay adults have posted on the above site. The videos are so sweet. Encouraging. Lovely. Showing teens (and adults) that sometimes people don't understand your life and how you feel, but soon LIFE WILL GET BETTER.

Do you need to be gay to visit the site? I would think not. I applaud this site that tells people that although the stranger in the video does not know you, they love you and care about you.

Who on this planet couldn't use a little support and encouragement? Who would have thought that technology could be used for good?

My American President

2011-05-01T18:53:00.000-04:00

One of my favorite movies ever is American President. I LOVE Michael Douglas's president, and I am a sucker for Michael J. Fox. There is a classic scene in the movie, one of many, that comes at the end when Michael Douglas interrupts a press conference and finally stands up for himself. He answers all the false allegations and declares the opponent a dolt.

When I read the news article on MSNBC today about Obama and his monologue/bit at the White House Correspondence Dinner I thought "yeah baby, Obama's SO American President." Obama RIPPED Donald Trump up and spit him out. BRAVO Obama. Bravo.

You Can Dress Me Up, But You Can't Take Me Anywhere

2011-05-01T18:43:00.000-04:00

TMI alert. Frankly I don't think it's that bad, but some of you are wimps and can't talk about feminine stuff. Get over yourself. Read on.

Today after church I *mentioned* that I was hungry and needed some BBQ. We haven't eaten in a restaurant in a long time, and we hadn't been to City BBQ in ages, so EVERYONE jumped at the chance.

City BBQ, or "Shitty" as we loving call it, is a picnic table, paper towel rolls on the table, down home BBQ establishment.

We walked in the door right at 11 a.m. and ordered some Carolina sandwiches and corn pudding...mmmmm. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. The four of us sat down and dug right in.

During the meal I got up to get some more sauce to drown my BBQ sandwich in and a refill on my diet coke, and turned around to see David and Hannah staring at me, mouths open. I immediately knew something was up and hazarded a wild guess that I had either sat in something, or let's face it I had an "accident". Rather than helping me out, the two of them sat there and stared, mouths open. (I talked to Hannah later about how she could have been a tad more helpful).

I made my way back to the table, surrounded by other filled tables, and confirmed that I did in fact have a spot on the back of my skirt. I turned my skirt around (the beauty of the elastic waist skirt), grabbed my giant purse (another plus) and excused myself to the bathroom. It was a one bun bathroom. Great. I locked the door and got to work. I washed my skirt out, looked around and saw there was no air dryer and started to dry the skirt off with paper towels. At this point someone was knocking on the door so she could use the restroom. Great. So I left the restroom with a wet spot on the front of my skirt, which was better than on the back.

As I am leaving the restroom, passing the waiting women, oblivious Bubba (across the room) says in the loudest stage whisper EVER, "You took a LONG time Mom, WERE YOU POOPING?"

Don't Judge Me

2011-04-30T07:29:00.000-04:00

Don't think any less of me but...I got up early and watched the Royal Wedding. Yeah, I admit it. I like that kind of stuff. I went and got ready for work during the boring parts (who needs to see Prince Charles and Camilla arrive) and watched the MOMENT the dress was revealed to the world. Which, by the way, I should be a commentator because the first words out of my mouth were "that is so Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier." David wants to know how I remember crap like that. I don't know...it's a gift. Useless information retainer.

I also am admitting that I taped all 8 hours of it. I got called into work early Friday morning, (curses!) and so I came home and fast forwarded thru the boring stuff so I could see them in the carriage and the kisses on the balcony.

Everyone at work was rolling their eyes at the topic of the royal wedding (mouth breathers) and making "sick of hearing about it" comments. I just kept my mouth shut until they KEPT talking about it and I finally butted in and answered all their ignorant questions.

Why wasn't Obama invited? (Me: It was a ton of royals. Heck, Sarkozy wasn't invited either...Them: who's Sarkozy? Me: Argh!)

So if Will and Kate have a kid will are they before Harry? (Me: Yes. If it's a boy.)

Will Kate be titled a "queen" if Wills becomes King? (Me: Yes Them: Why isn't the Queen's husband a King then? Me: Because he is a consort, he can't be King because that title would overshadow his wife's. Phillip renounced his own titles in Denmark and Greece to be with Elizabeth. Them: He's from Greece? Wow, you know a lot about this stuff.)

Let me also just add that I thought Prince Philip looked awful yesterday. I know the ole guy is 89 or something, but he is NOT looking well these days. After all he is the oldest living consort. Did you know that?

AND here is my take on things. I thought the wedding was great. Dress was nice, a classic. Trees in the Abbey, nice to soften a bit. Kisses? Pretty lame.

Paparazzi

2011-04-27T14:14:00.000-04:00

Yesterday one of my Kindergartener's was a little overzealous in his camera duties. You see in our class, the person who is in charge of leading the pledge of allegiance for the week is also the official photographer.

My little friend was given the camera after the salute and immediately started taking pictures. Pictures of his classmates. Pictures of me. Pictures of the rug he was sitting on. In the course of 15 minutes he had taken over 100 pictures of me reading a story to the class. It was getting very annoying, and VERY distracting.

After I finished my second book I very calmly and sweetly requested that he take one more, and give the camera a little rest. One of his fellow students asked why and I replied, "because I'm starting to feel a little Kate Middleton," without really filtering my mouth. The class asked who Kate Middleton was and I responded that she was about to be a princess and lots and lots of people liked to take pictures of her.

One of my students said, "Oh, I know her. Yeah, he sure is taking a lot of pictures of you. I can see how it gets annoying."

BRN2RUN

2011-04-26T17:04:00.000-04:00

A few years ago my friend Jennifer got a red convertible and, since she was (and still is) a HUGE Springsteen fan, she went in and got vanity plates that said BRN2RUN. The clerk at the license counter asked her if she was a runner and she laughed at him and said, no, idiot, I'm a Springsteen fan. Who has not heard the song Born To Run?

Anyway, all that fluff to say that I am now (trying) to be a runner. It all started a few months ago when I told you all that I was trying to watch my weight and Hannah wasn't helping since she was mid cake decorating class. Then I went on to tell you that I was making progress because I was able to buy the next size down in pants. Well I started making really good progress when my husband started loosing weight and the delta between our two weights was shrinking and I was starting to get a little more motivated. So far, David has lost 25 pounds! Wow! Talk about all new clothes and belts! Now David has lost 25 and I have lost 15, and the delta is only 10 pounds...so I'm running.

For a little over a week now I have been running every other day and riding the recumbent bike (to give my hip a break) on off days. And I can't believe how well I'm doing so far. Tonight I ran over 3 miles in 30 minutes (big deal for me) and I did NOT stop and the ONLY reason I couldn't go any further is because that darn hip of mine was about to come undone.

I am hoping this will last a while and I will continue to get in shape...maybe even get off some of my medication...woot!

I Know It's Been A While

2011-04-22T16:44:00.000-04:00

This last week I've been doing some stuff. I've been working overtime since my coworker had a sick child...I've been taking my Illustrator classes online (2 down!), I have been trying to figure out my life, I started jogging every other day, I've been fixing broken vacuum cleaners, I've been celebrating anniversaries, and I've been altering a prom dress. I know, I'm bad and I should check in once and a while, but everyone has one of those weeks. It isn't so much the busy-ness, it was more the mood. I just haven't had the strength.

Highlights?

This molten lava cake I ate, yes ME. EVERY single bit of it. Mine was actually bigger, with pistachio ice cream, and big bowl of Chantilly cream, AND followed an 8 ounce filet and the best salad EVER...so yeah, I admit I WAS A BIG OINKER.

The salad? The Caprice salad, which I love and always forget about making again until I have it when I am out to dinner somewhere. I am going to attempt to recreate this evening for dinner.

LOVE it.

Low(er)-lights?

My trip to Walmart with my children where I loose my cool because my Bubba was playing with a giant plastic ball, and POPPED it (the shot rang out across the whole store), THEN (not 3 minutes later) proceeded to take the giant roll of bubble wrap off the end cap and roll it down the main aisle where it BOWLED ANOTHER SHOPPER OVER.

We all left laughing, but it was touch and go for a while. I am always afraid I am going to loose it in the middle of an aisle only to look up and see one of my Kindergarten parents frozen watching me reprimand my child.

Shopping

2011-04-17T06:34:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, okay all the time, when I am watching a movie I'll hop on my computer and shop or do something, because I really can't sit and do one thing at a time. Shhh. I'm a multitasker. Sure, I could be doing something useful like crocheting, or looking at a magazine, or cooking (too noisy), or braiding my underarm hair, but mainly I just look around on the computer.

Last night I watched a movie that had a really cute wrap dress, I know! how 70's, so I started a google search to see what was out there. This beautiful green updated dress came onto my radar. It seems that a Vivienne Westwood (never heard of her) designed this, and it is no where to be found for sale, as well I'm guessing it is WAY out of my price range. So, the question I pose is how difficult would it be to make? I'd say pretty darn difficult with that collar and getting the scrunchy-ness of it to scrunch just so. I guess I could be a big girl about it and make it out of the yards and yards (and yards) of curtain lining I have in my basement grotto. Finally go about making a mock dress before using the most expensive, most beautiful, one of a kind fabric I own.

Baby Drama

2011-04-14T16:54:00.000-04:00

Tuesday I resolved to get the naggy little thing that has been on my to do list marked off. Hannah got home from school and I informed her that this was the day. I had watched videos in preparation, You-Tube is a crazy resource, isn't it? I had all the supplies at the ready. We were going to clip the sugar glider's fingernails, if it killed us. And it almost did.

Let me interject and say that our friend who turned us on to Sugar Gliders had one of his pair die because she got a scratch on her membrane, it got infected, and she was gone. We have known all of this from the beginning and yet we've had Chili and Pepper for going on 8+ months and NEVER clipped their nails. This coupled with the fact that it is almost short sleeve/tank top season and my arms need to heal up (from all the scratches) before I can start showing off my guns again.

So Hannah and I went in search of the babies. The video CLAIMED that if you did the deed during the day (when they are normally asleep) it was easier, because they were groggy. THEY WERE WRONG. And, can I add, that Hannah is officially relieved of this task since she is such a wimp. Every time I clipped a nail she gasp that I was getting too close to the quick.

The You-Tube video also claimed that if you wrapped the baby in a towel or fleece, held it against your body, then a second person rooted around found a foot and held the hand/foot between two fingers spreading it open, it would be a breeze. LIARS!

After 10 or so treats and weeping and gnashing of teeth we figured we averaged about 16 out of 18 nails clipped. Did you know gliders have opposable thumbs on their feet? With no nails? Well, you learn something new everyday.

Sweet Little Cupcake Baked By The Devil

2011-04-13T20:45:00.000-04:00

There's this Kindergartener I know. Not that she is in my current class or anything, but let's say I know this Kindergartener that is a giant pill. This Kindergartener told me the other day that they were not able to drink milk because I first needed to make it chocolate...their parent wanted me to know that this particular child was ONLY supposed to drink chocolate milk. Because of this seemingly bold faced lie, I wrote this child's parents a note (stating kind of sarcastically) that unfortunately I did not have the ingredients to make chocolate milk and it was a state regulation that each child be offered 4 ounces a milk at each lunch.

The next day I received an apology from the parent and a face to face telling me that her child was a bold faced liar and she did not in fact need this child to only drink chocolate milk.

Duh? You think so?

Today's incident? Said child had the gall to upset a sweet little fellow student in a certain Kindergarten class (that shall remain nameless), insisting that this little girl's dessert was in fact their's because they were not provided any. Get this, there was no discussion of who actually brought the dessert, of coarse sweet little child did, but since the brat was not provided dessert by their parent, it was sweet little child's duty to provided it to them.

What? Can you say entitled? Can you say Bratty McBratspants?

Tasty Dinner

2011-04-13T18:13:00.000-04:00

Okay, I admit. I borrowed (read stole) this picture from Google, but this is exactly how my dinner looked. It was really easy (start to finish 20 minutes) and David took one bite and said, "Add this one to the favorites list." I thought it was a tiny bit bland, but I guess I'm used to the higher fat/more spice version in the restaurants.

My friend passed on this Rachel Ray magazine, which I had never looked at before. In the "Yum" section there was this "Thai Noodle Bowl with Shrimp." Here is the recipe: 4 ounces rice noodles (yeah! gluten free!), 2 cans of lite coconut milk, 1 Tbsp soy sauce, 1 Tbsp thai red curry paste, 1 pound peeled, deveined shrimp, 2 cups snow peas, salt and pepper, cilantro and lime to taste.

Cook noodles; drain and set aside. In same pot, bring coconut milk, soy sauce, and curry paste to a simmer. Add shrimp and cook 1 minute. Add snow peas and cook until crisp-tender, about 3 minutes (I added chopped red bell pepper too). Season with salt and pepper. Divide noodles among bowls and ladle soup on top. Serve with cilantro and lime wedges.

Christmas in April

2011-04-13T06:39:00.000-04:00

Remember back in December when I was talking about our family traditions and what I had decided to buy my Brother-in-Law, and his son's for Christmas? The theme this year was food. I don't think I ever told you what we ended up buying the three of them!

Though there were many awesome choices, we took the easiest choice (although very imaginative) and bought the three of them a beer dinner. If you aren't sure what that is, find one and go try it. Every month, (I know, it seems a little frequent) David and I go to a locally owned restaurant (with a group of his co-workers that have since become our friends) a we pay a flat fee to have a 6 or 7 course meal paired with complimentary beers usually from one brewer. The menu is decided by the restaurant owner, as well as the beer selections. The restaurant closes down for the evening, and this is a by reservation only thing.

David and I have had such wonderful food and so many different kinds of beers (I may sip one or two, but I drink Diet Coke) that for the past year we have gone about 9 out of 12 months.

My brother-in-law has been really interested in hearing about all these dinners, and usually comments on how he wishes he could find a local (to him) place that does the same type of thing. So I hopped on the little thing called the internet and found him one. And bought him and my over 21 nephews a spot in this month's dinner.

Why this month? Why wait until April? Because the featured brewer was Deschutes and David is a HUGE fan of Abyss and other Deschutes beers. Here in Ohio Deschutes is rare, so we have to order it or con a family member to bring it.

A few days ago I received a confirmation from the nice lady at the restaurant and she forwarded me the menu. H...o...l...y...crap. I need to fly out for this dinner now. THIS is why I go to these meals...

Twilight Ale to welcome you and get you started!

Twilight Ale with fresh "first-of-the-season" Wild Alaska Halibut Ceviche and organic blue corn tortilla chips.

Green Lakes Organic Ale with blackened Wild Alaska Copper River Coho Salmon on Organic Mixed Greens with bleu cheese dressing and Willamette Valley blueberries.

Red Chair NW Pale Ale & Mirror Pond Pale Ale (taste comparison) with Chicken & Prawn Prosciutto with a lemon caper butter sauce and Yukon Gold mashers.

Hop Henge IPA with a Beef Tenderloin shiitake "shroomin' at the Hedge" and fresh Washington asparagus.

Black Butte Porter Float with Tillamook Vanilla Bean Ice Cream

This is not a choose an entree' type thing, you eat EVERY course! Gladly! I can honestly say that beer floats are NASTY. I know it may be because I don't like most beers, but can I also add that I have had beer infused whipped cream on a chocolate beer infused cake and I thought it was the most heavenly thing ever? We have eaten some pretty strange things over the last year, but I have enjoyed trying it all. How many ways can you prepare a dessert with beer in it?

The Sour Smell of Soccer Season

2011-04-09T19:16:00.000-04:00

Some families have football, some baseball, but we are a soccer family. Both kids exclusively play soccer (so far) and today was the start of the spring season. We love it. The family falls into a routine and usually plays two nights a week and all morning on Saturday.

Bubba's game started us off this morning, and while his was finishing David and Hannah walked over to her game. As soon as they left it started to rain, and rain, and rain...and by the time we caught up with them at Hannah's field, David and Hannah jumped in the car to wait and see if she would play. The thunder prevailed and the game was called, so we went to 5 Guys Burgers and Fries to celebrate the start of the season (and the fact the government did not shut down!).

David and I decided after today's game that Bubba's orange shorts would mysteriously disappear. While it is very easy to pick him out on the field with the unfortunate jersey color, he doesn't need to accentuate his watermelon jersey with neon orange shorts. I told him he looked like a highlighter.