May 31, 2006

To husband: NO NO NO NO reading for you!

May 30, 2006
What Does It All Mean?

My husband drilled a hole in his thumb. A few days later I thought that I'd check his blood-pressure when I was checking mine.

One side was 120/66 and the other arm was 133/71. What does that mean? The difference part?

May 27, 2006
The Check Is In The Mail

Nope! No reading for the husband! Bwahahahahaha .... And, yes, my head might explode from the effort of NOT telling him before next June!

And, yes, some of these posts run away with me but lets all remember ... if I write it down, I don't have to worry about forgetting the plan.

"I love it when a plan comes together!"

May 25, 2006

Oh! This is just TOO good. My husband passed along a link to me about some video that a co-worker/friend of his took at a retirement party. In order to make it easier to disseminate among his peers, the guy loaded it on his WEB-SITE!

Now, we have the url for his website (if you chop the video address down to its root). Yes, thats right. I now have the url for his blog. And he has no clue. Ok, he wasn't really trying to hide it, but I don't think he actually thought he'd get any interest. Do you have any idea how tempted I am to let mayhem loose all over? Bwahahahaha ....

Ok. No mayhem. He's actually a nice guy. But I suddenly feel this overwhelming urge to comment on his site using my middle name and leaving no tracking information. Unless he's freaky enough to track my ISP. Although he seems to post weekly and I could just use the computer at the library! Oh! Thats a good plan!!!!!

I don't know why I feel so delighted that I know something and he doesn't know that I know! I already know that he's a Buddhist, confirmed on his site although in face-to-face conversation he won't tell you even if you ask him out-right. Its interesting what people will reveal casually and/or carelessly on their website that they aren't comfortable talking about nose-to-nose.

I did scan the other commenters and none of them are locals. Certainly no one that will bump into him in the hallway and at staff parties. Bwahahahahaha. I am so ... pleased ... at this turn of events. I'm sure that says something horrid about my psyche!

Movie Night

Movie list that posted so I won't forget by the Fall when we start having Monthly Movie Madness Mommy Monday. Because there are some definite non-child-appropriate movies that no one here in the middle of all this ruralness seems to have seen.

May 24, 2006
Mah-na Mah-hell

Remember how I told you that my family got me the most deliciously wonderful Mother's Day gift? The whole first season of the original Muppet show on DVD? And how I knew it was a timeless classic by the fact that they were so mesmerized by the first episode that they wanted to watch it over again instead of moving on to the next episode?

Welcome to my Hell. One of the first skits on that episode is the pink cow-things singing "do-do-dee-do" and being periodically interupted at musically appropriate moments by the hipster-caveman inserting "mah-na mah-na".

All day, small children have followed me through the house insisting at various moments that I'm either the "do-do-de-do" or the "mah-na mah-na". Hours of this!

It brought to mind the saying "This life is as close to Hell as Christians are going to get." Apparently my Hell is populated with small otherwise-charming beings determinedly singing "mah-na mah-na" until my head explodes!

Plastic Pillows

I found THE most amazing shower curtains! I've been going nuts trying to decide on exactly the right shade of blue-green for the guest suite at the new house. Suddenly, at TJMaxx, the shower curtain jumped off the shelf and grabbed me while I was innocently looking for plaid table-cloths for the church picnic. It was LOVELY (and super cheap) and I bought the only two they had!

I was SO extra-excited when I got home and showed them to my husband and gushed about how they were the perfect color and how one could be the shower curtain and the other could be whacked up and turned into decorative pillows for the bed.

He just looked a little odd, but nodded and smiled and went on with his day. I talked about them being the perfect color a little more later and he kinda just shook his head and walked off. We went to bed, and as we lay there drifting off to sleep, I was still babbleling about the shower curtains (which truly are exceptional, especially for the price). Finally, he asked hesitantly, "Are you sure about those pillows?" I might have responded that it was a perfectly reasonable idea. "But, will they be comfortable?"

Lets take a moment to note that only MY husband thinks decorative pillows on the couch and/or bed should be funcitonally comfortable. The rest of us ALL know that decorative pillows are ... well ... DECORATIVE. My husband is aware of our difference in focus. Which is probably what led to the miscomunication.

See, what he heard was "... shower-curtain ... perfect color ... bed ... pillows ..." He somehow missed the part about "damask FABRIC shower curtain ... perfect color FABRIC ... FABRIC $60 per yard but shower curtain two yards worth of FABRIC for $12"!

Thats right, people! In my flood of information, almost a kind of shopping immersion technique I use to convey the essense of my experience, he missed the whole "fabric" thing which left him with the odd image of me cutting up a PLASTIC shower curtain to make decorative PILLOWS!

I think he deserves bunches of credit for not immediately screaming, loudly and emphatically, like a bad actress in a b-grade-slasher-horror-movie! Can you imagine!?! Plastic decorative pillows glued-up out of shower-curtains!?!

May 23, 2006
God Is A Duck?

Yesterday, I heard Cassie singing in the tub -- "My God is so big, my God is so strong, there's nothing my God can not do, quack-quack."

I asked her to sing me some more, really sure I just wasn't getting it. She was delighted to sing for me, launching into a spirited repetitive rendition of My God Is So Big. Ending each time with quack-quack.

I knew I was missing something. My tired little brain just couldn't quite get it ... that quack-quacking. I asked her to sing it for me slowly. She obviously thought I was nuts, but the rule is that is you think Mommy is nuts you humor her anyway. After confirming that she really does think she wants you to do what she says she does.

Still, quack-quack.

Finally, I resort to asking for an explanation. Cassie tells me thats in case people forget to quack. What? "You know" and she demonstrates. OY!

She had been singing "My God is so big, my God is so strong, there's nothing my God can not do, (clap-clap)"!

May 20, 2006
Swine. Retarded Chickens. Whatever.

Cast not your pearles before swine.

Running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

Have you ever been on a field-trip with a group of retarded people?

Now that all those images are in your head, lets talk about the Sunday School Group Outing this morning. To the national park kids fishing event, sponsored by the Forestry Service.

Weeks ago I passed out the flyer in class. We talked about a meeting spot so we could all drive together, making it easier on those who had never been over to the national park before. We discussed how this would be a good opportunity to bring visitors into our class. I passed around the sign-up sheet for the picnic.

This morning at the meeting spot, there was great turnout! Including three different sets of visitors. Yay! Looking to be a fabulous day!

Things got ugly quickly. Several of the daddies kept saying "are you ready to leave yet? are we ready to go? time to go? can we go? when are we going to go?" So, I'm ashamed to admit, I allowed myself to be bullied into leaving the meeting spot a whole TEN MINUTES after everyone agreed to meet. We met at 8:30, left at 8:40, missed the people that showed up at 8:45. Because, we simply MUST get to where we're going. A whole five minutes away. Thats partly my fault because I was hesitant to just ... smack ... other people's husbands so early in the morning. I got over that feeling as the day progressed.

So. We lose some at the meeting spot. We get to the fishing spot. Parking is bad, but not horrid. By bad, I mean we didn't get spots all together. Which shouldn't have been a problem since we all had to go through the check-in-registration-get-your-fishing-license tent to get to the event. Doesn't it seem to you like that would have been a reasonable spot to meet? So when I got to the tent, I REALLY expected to see a familiar group of people. I swear I did. There was my immediate family. A visiting grandfather. A woman visitor and her son. Thats it.

Everyone else wandered off like unsupervised retarded people. I don't say that to make fun of retarded people. I say that to be accurate. Imagine a whole group of adult retarded people quickly and determinedly wandering away from the group.

But, you say, maybe they didn't know that the purpose of going to a group event was to do the event as a group! Anyone could make that mistake. EXCEPT FOR SIGNING UP FOR THE PICNIC. See, if you bring something to a potluck picnic you generally should expect to stay with the group so you can SHARE your food with each other. Does that sound reasonable to you? Because that sounds reasonable to me.

Now lets talk about Swine characteristics. I went all out for the picnic. Since I had invited several people from outside our class, I brought an extra dish for each of them. (When I invite visitors, I don't ask them to bring food). Checked tablecloths. Lemonade. Tea. Multiple kinds of PHENOMINAL brownies. Chips. Dips. Watermelon. Giant dill pickles. Every hot-dog assessory you can imagine. Ok, well, not pickled jalapenos. Color coordinated coolers full of ice. Do you get the idea? Because I do a pretty event.

Except that the retarded chickens had run all over the park willy-nilly and never did make it to the potluck picnic. I don't even think they're sorry yet. This is apparently "normal" behavior for our class in public group situations. Until tomorrow morning.

What happens tomorrow morning, your ask? I'll tell you. They're going to hear some plain talking. Blunt to-the-point talking. And I dare one of them to say something under his breath. This should not be the moment they confuse nice with stupid. THIS would be the moment they should repent profusely, throwing themselves on their knees and begging forgiveness, swearing it will never ever happen again. I'm Southern, and black-Irish to boot. If you think thats irrelevant to this post, then I can't explain it to you. If you know what I mean, you have a pretty good idea of the justice about to be reigned down on their heads. They have inadvertantly victimized their last event-organizer!

Note To Husband: Lets not delete this post. Maybe its not happy, for them. But its happy for me. This post isn't about anger. Its a little about humiliation and embarassment, but mostly ITS ABOUT ME ANTICIPATING TOMORROW. These people need to know that their petty selfish unthinking actions are creating a rather non-welcoming atmosphere for visitors. I get to be the one that tells them in no uncertain terms. Its going to be a good morning.

May 19, 2006

Welcome to the NO-READING-THIS husband-zone!

May 17, 2006
Really Happening!

I'm too excited to breath! Note to husband: NO READING FOR YOU! THIS is a "better idea" post.

May 16, 2006
What Did ...? Is That ...? Nooooooooo ... !

No way to sugar-coat it. Lee (age 6) lopped off about a third of Cassie's hair (age 4) because she watched him whack off HIS hair and asked him to do hers too.

He looks ... bad.

She looks ... worse.

She used to be a little girl with strawberry coppery blonde ringlets. Now she's the little girl with the hairstyle inspired and executed by a drunk blind barber on crack. Big chunks missing off both sides.Its rather startling. Can't get an appointment to fix it until Wednesday night. Then she's going to be the little girl with a little page-boy haircut. It may turn out cute. It may not. Regardless, it WILL grow back out. Someday.

Mothers Day

I had a great Mother's Day. My husband over-slept. Which is highly unusual. And he looks so ... sweet ... asleep which is different than the clever literalism that permeates our days now that he's exhausted all the time doing things for "us". So I took the older children to church, after dressing them in craft-appropriate clothing because you just know the lunatic-teachers will have them doing projects for me that involve paint which would totally ruin "Sunday" clothes. That left my husband laying across the bed reading while Katherine wiggled her toes in the air and made happy sounds. She makes the most faubulous happy sounds.

The plan was to go out to lunch at the restaurent of my choice, but ... he just looked so sweet. And exhausted. And comfy. So I made MY decision to grab take-out instead of dragging him out to lunch. And he gave me a GREATgift ... The Muppet Show, Season One on DVD! And he had slipped out the night before to make sure we had popcorn and the new mint-oreos! (Not to mention that I just noticed he filled up my mini-van with gas!)

Apparently, last year a new tradition was born. Then he talked the kids into getting me Herbie-the-Lovebug vintage movies and "movie" snacks so we could spend time together and I could collapse without the kids noticing and worrying.

It may not seem like the most special "mommy" kind of day. No restaurents with forks. No starched church clothes and formal family pictures. Just me and silly old movies that we can all watch together, laughing until our sides hurt while piled onto the futons in front of the tv downstairs.

And I LOVE it! This is the best tradition ever. Most of my friends were dissappointed Sunday. One was going to spend the day at her in-laws for a family potluck. So she had to cook AND be on her best behavior. Another one had planned a picnic in the park, except that it was cold and drizzlely. At least those had plans!

Yet another friend has four children, and a husband with NO plan. He even told her he'd execute whatever plan she came up with! She refused to plan her own suprise day. I can't say I blame her. But, it was funny-ish when during the afternoon he started sending children to her to ask her what she wanted to do about Mother's Day. Dude! Its the afternoon of Mothers Day! Its TOO LATE to get a plan! Eventually her kids decided it would be a good idea to order pizza and rent a movie. Which was eeriely similiar to my day except that I watched something good and she got stuck with Bambi part two. And I didn't have to have a breakdown because my husband HAD a plan!

Which led me to tell my husband while he was shaving and I was rambling " ... and so next year Steve needs a better plan!" My husband just snorted and smirked under his breath (and, yes, that takes talent) " ... what Steve needs is a wife that'll let him sleep in on Mother's Day ..." Sometimes he just makes me feel all tinglely!

May 13, 2006
Fun For Us

Fun for us, NOT fun for husband. Note to Husband: SKIP THIS POST! DO NOT READ THIS POST! NO! STOP! DON'T DO IT!

Warning: Dark Post

No fluffy bunnies here. If thats what you're looking for right now, best move on. You've been warned.

May 09, 2006
A Better Idea

Some people climb Mount Everest. I have a better idea ...

A Better Idea which my husband will NOT be reading about! A Better Idea that is a "husband surprise". The kind of surpise that means he will NOT be able to read this post, or future appropriately-labeled posts, or comments, or future comments. The kind of surprise that is worthy of an entire catagory to itself!

Without further ado, here's my Better Idea ... Ok. So there's a little "ado". But if you wanted brief technical writing, you wouldn't be here. Unless you're lost and confused. But the point is that I'm about to reveal The Better Idea ...

May 04, 2006

Sometimes Cassie (age 4) is rather ... determined. It makes my mother laugh. In that oh-now-you-are-going-to-pay-for-your-raising kind of way.

Yesterday, Cassie told me she didn't want to go for a hiking adventure in the woods. She usually loves to do that. But not yesterday. Nope. Yesterday she was afraid of ... alligators. I tried to reassure her.

"There are NO alligators in the woods."


"Alligators live in water, like swamps and ponds and lakes."


"Cassie! Alligators do NOT live in the woods."

"Well" ... and at that point I thought I had won ... until she crossed her arms ... and narrowed her eyes ...

"I. Am. Talking. About. Wood. Alligators."

There was no denying the triumph in her eyes.

May 01, 2006
Inside My Head

Several weeks ago, we were driving on a long trip and I tried to explain to my husband why it was easier for me to keep some numbers straight in my head if I group them into a round 100 and then an additional 29 instead of trying to just remember 129. He just interupted the long and complicated and undeniably female explanation to announce "Your head must be a scary place!"

It wasn't said to be mean. He honestly has no grasp of WHY I think in the manner that I do. He thinks I'm smart, and I arrive at the right conclusions the majority of the time, but the trip to the right conclusion is very very different from the trip he makes to the same conclusion. Apparently my mental trip goes to the brink and back. Which makes my head a scary place full of intoxicating insanity and untempered emotion and random creativity and wild pucci-style colors.

He was looking at me yesterday while I was talking and kinda smiling to himself. He said "Sometimes I wonder what goes on in your head. " Men and women are different. Very very different. Viva la difference!