Sunday, July 31, 2011


Found this picture of us while I was cleaning & organizing photos . . . .

Little was such an adorable itty-swimmer.

I'm so excited.

Shark Week starts in 49 minutes.
I'm almost giddy with excitement.

If I had all week free, I'd be right in front of the television.

Oh, gotta go clear out all the DVR space that I can!!

Saturday, July 30, 2011

Class Reunions . . .

I'm down on class reunions.  But I'm not exactly sure why.  Here's the deal:  it's in the past.   And I guess I don't see any point in reuniting with people from that long ago.  What good could possibly come out of it?  Twenty years ago, I was a different person with different priorities and different motivations and there is not a tiny minuscule part of me that wants to walk into a strange arena full of people who don't know me anymore and be judged on who I have become today based on the person they knew decades ago.

Am I just afraid of being judged?  Maybe.    Maybe this left a bad taste in my mouth.   That whole thing happened with one of my best friends from high school.  I'm certain she'll be there and am afraid I might rip her head off and shit down her neck.

My twenty year class reunion is coming up.  I'm not going.  I made that decision long ago.  The questionnaire and information request is sitting in a pile on my desk.  I also missed the deadline for providing old classmates with new insight into my life.  Oops.

I'm about to sound crass and come off like a total bitch, but . . . .

I'm struggling with the superficial nature of the questions.  I'm answering them here to support my iRant.

1.  Are you married.  If so, where did you meet your spouse and what year did you get married.

Yes, I'm married.  I met my spouse in THIS city and we got married in 1998.   If my "friends" from high school were really my friends, wouldn't they already know that?

2.  Do you have children?  If yes, how many boys/girls do you have and what are their ages?  If no children, tell us about your pets or favorite nieces/nephews.

Yes, I have children.  I have four.  Three girls and one boy, ages 11, 9, 7 and 3.  They are my everything and while I love my pets, too . . . I can't put children and pets in the same line.   I'll go there, for the sake of a survey.  I have an ass-load of fish and two dogs.

3.  Where do you work?  How long?

Again, shouldn't all you 'best friends' out there know about my one-of-a-kind business?   Okay, I'll play along and assume that you live under a rock like I do.  Anti-social, I am.  Anyhoo . . . I'm a nurse, by training.  I like to say I'm a REGISTERED NURSE.  The medical assistant at my pediatrician's office calls herself a nurse, and we nurses are picky about that.  Four years of nursing school to be a baccalaureate prepared nurse is different that an eight week crash course in how to take a blood pressure on a machine, where you apply a cuff and tap your foot waiting for a digital readout.   And, I'm a business owner.  A business partner and I started a telephone triage service almost 10 years ago.  We're one of a kind.  Technically, we work 118 hours a week.  We got smart about 2 years ago and hired an assistant director and another middle management person who work their tails off. We have about 20 nurses that work for us.  It's gotten too big and too busy to do much more than keep the ball rolling.  I do the accounting, taxes, payroll and numbers portion.  We work for, oh, I don't know -- about 200 doctors in Colorado, California, Arizona, Oregon, Texas, North Carolina, Illinois and Florida.

4.  Where have you lived since graduation and where do you live now?

Ninety days after graduation, I moved to THIS city.  I've been living here ever since because (1) once I finished college the first time, I didn't have a pot to piss in.  Four dollars was a lot of money to me.  I couldn't have moved if good looks bought studio apartments.  And (2) I had a job here.  Job equals money.  Money equals food.  So I stayed here.  I still live here now, though I would move at the drop of a hat.  MOTH's career is stable and keeps us here despite my deep desires to flee this city.

5.  What states/countries have you visited in the past 20 years.

See above.  No pot to piss in means no disposable funds for travel.   I've been to a few places . . mostly within the continental US.  I hopped a train to Mexico once.  It was scary as hell.  I'd like to travel.  Greece is on my bucket list, but right now, I don't even have a passport.

6.  Craziest or best accomplishments since high school:  

I'm totally blank on this one.  I stood on a bed and birthed a baby girl with no meds.  That was a hearty accomplishment.  I was crazy enough to do it three more times.   I did CPR on a man in a motorcycle crash.  I've watched babies die and watched their mother's die inside.  I've climbed mountains and waded in sorrow.   But still . . . . what do you SAY to a question like that . . . . how do you summarize 20 years of events that have made you who you ARE?

7.  Favorite memory from high school:

Without sounding too brutal, "getting the f*^% out of there!!"

8.  Who is the most famous person you have met in the past 20 years?  Where did you meet and what did you say?

Uh . . . . I don't think I've met anyone famous.  Ever.

9.  Tattoos?  Yes ______ (If yes, how many?)  No _________

Yes, but isn't this a recipe for reunion drinking turned show-and-tell??

10.  What else has happened in your life in the past 20 years that we might find interesting, unique, weird, funny, impressive or shocking?

Uh . . . I guess I'm really boring.  I can't think of a single event that these folks would find interesting, unique, weird, funny, impressive or shocking.  Then again, do I really need to be interesting to them?  Do I need to appear unique?  Weird?  Funny?  Do I need to be impressive?  Shocking?

See, I guess it's best I'm staying home.

Friday, July 29, 2011

My Childhood Home

 . . . well, one of them  . . .

My childhood home is for sale.  A long lost perfect person sent me a message that there was  a for sale sign in the front yard a couple of weeks ago.  I can't shake the feeling of sadness.  I don't know why.  I'm not super attached to the place.  I haven't done more than drive by it in the last decade.  Still, I'm the person who sold it to the current owners.  And I still have memories attached to it.

Good memories  . . . we moved there when I was in 4th grade.  I walked to school and came home to this house.  I was a latch-key kid, so I let myself in and watched Thundercats or Scooby-Doo.   My room had purple shag carpet when we moved in and my mom let me pick new colors for paint and a bedspread.  I chose peach.  The walls were peach and the comforter was navy blue.  The walls of my room were slanted and I pinned up pictures of cute boys on the slant.  Judd Nelson, Emelio Estevez, Kevin Bacon.  Am I dating myself?   I had a little walk-in closet and my bestest friend Jamie and I had sleepovers in there.   Why do kids love to sleep in closets?  It was like our fort . . .  We had a trampoline in the backyard, a bike shed, a woodpile and tons of purple and white iris and little morning bell flowers.  We went on lots of fishing trips and came home to this house.  We cleaned fish in the backyard and the neighborhood cats would come running to eat fish guts.  I first kissed a boy in the backyard of this house.   My favorite dog, Bounce, lived in this house.  She allowed me to sit her in a high chair and put a bib on her in order to eat spaghetti off of a spoon . . . in this house.   Prom dates picked me up and dropped me off to this house.  I fell in love while I lived in this house.  The attic entrance was in my bedroom closet and just inside it, I hid all of the monopoly money, my diaries and a stack of "love letters".  The family room walls were covered in school pictures, ribbons and trophies from gymnastics meets and judo tournaments.  My brother's room was down the hall.  He had a poster of judo throws up, but hidden underneath was a picture of a naked lady.  He hid playboy magazines in his closet and a can of copenhagen in the back of his top desk drawer.   I thought he was bad, bad, bad.   It was our job, my brother and me, to shovel  that driveway before we left for school.  Autumn winds blew tons of leaves into our front yard and we jumped and played in leaf piles that were taller than I am now.

This is the house MOTH and I cleaned out when we moved Pop to the nursing home.  By then it had been many years with no feminine touch and the hoarder in my dad had come out with a vengeance.  This is the place with the ketchup packets, aluminum cans in the garage, the frozen fish & the golf balls.  This is the place where my family escaped fire and is home to one of the most terrifying memories of my life.  I came home from school and a gigantic fireman in a breathing mask was carrying my unconscious father out of a smoking house over his shoulder.    This is the house that was burglarized and ransacked by a group of wanna-be gangsters when the crips and the bloods were the 'in' thing.  They gutted a huge chunk of our house, made a mess of everything and raped the whole family emotionally.   There's a dog buried in the back yard.  And a bird.   We knew the neighbors to the side.  He was a doctor and had huge crabapple trees in this front lawn.  We used to use them to draw on the sidewalk.  We knew the neighbors to the back.  He was a grumpy old cuss from Germany and owned a restaurant in front of their house.  They made the best cinnamon rolls in the whole world.  She fed birds by hand and leaned over the fence complaining about her husband.  I think I finally "get" her.

There are lots and lots and lots of memories in this house . . .  I owe a special thanks to the photographer!  Thanks for thinking of me . . . how DID you know I would want one last picture of this house?

These owners have cleaned the place up and it looks gorgeous.  It was white when I lived there.  And it had a green roof. There wasn't a little white picket fence and there used to be grass in the parkway.  Also there used to be a huge tree right outside the right window and a giant evergreen tree to the left of the door . . . still, it's my childhood house . . . 

That hedge wasn't there either.  It was elm trees that made my dad nuts with their fall droppings.  I loved climbing those trees.  Oh wait, there is a big tree to the left side.  It just got a major haircut and it's WAY bigger!!

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Concert in the Park . . .

Have I blogged about my mom?  Well, the obvious answer is yes.  But have I blogged that she plays in a band?  She's actually quite musically talented.  She plays the piano.  And the trumpet.  And the french horn.  And the flute.  And the clarinet.

I don't come buy such a gift.  I play my iPod.

Anyway, she plays in a local band.  Think of a symphony, except instead of strings instruments, it's brass and woodwinds & percussion.  There's always a concert or two.  We (meaning the kids and I) try to go and support her endeavors as much as possible.  It's fun.

The summer band has been playing a variety of concert in the park series.  It's an evening performance with hot dogs or hamburgers and drinks in a make-shift concession stand that serves as  a fundraiser for the band.  There are donation envelopes and band members that circulate to say hello to the crowd.  There's usually a nearby playground and the area in front of the band is littered with picnic blankets & people with lawn chairs.  I love it.  

Last concert, the thunderstorms held off just long enough to complete the concert.  The kids played & we ate chick-fil-a.  It was a lovely summer evening.

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Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Bike Riding and Park Playing . . . again . . .

We just never get tired of it.

Gymnastics is life.  Straddle holds everywhere. 

Volleyball is life for this one.  "Watch my approach, watch my approach."

He's a monkey.

Seriously.  She ALWAYS has some tiny creature in her hands.  She's totally fascinated by bugs and creepy crawly things. 
I never said I wouldn't get another bird.

Just sayin'.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Visiting Grandpa

We were lucky enough to visit the nursing home on a day when a breeder with tiny puppies was there, too. 

Nothing makes a kid smile like holding a tiny furball.


Mimi fell in love with their tiny wet noses & puppy breath.

Little is not at all freaked out by the elderly at all.  He was very eager to give
Grandpa rides in his wheelchair.  He had Subway for lunch & got punch out Green Lantern goggles, wristband & ring.  He wore them all day giving Grandpa rides. 

Me & Pops.

Big & Grandpa.

I gave Little the camera for a while.  We ended up with lots of random pictures . . . and this one.  Dad is almost smiling.

Middle is kind-of hesitant in the nursing home setting.  She's quick to pick up on odd habits.  I always love her play by play report on the way home.  She had a really good time doing wheelchair races outside. 

One for the album, for sure . . . 

Monday, July 25, 2011

Dreams . . .

Ever wake up just pissed off and irritated and angry at your spouse.  I woke up breathing venom this morning and spitting fire because my husband was an a-hole in a dream I had.

How stupid is that?

He doesn't even like A-rod.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

So rude . . .

Okay, so I said I was gonna be positive about this bingo situation.  But here's the deal.  At bingo, more than any other cross section of places where I circulate, people are stinkin' rude.  Unbelievably, inconceivably cross.  They use a crappy tone and are demanding and short tempered and they get mad, actually mad, when you don't call their number of race right over to resell them a side game card.

That's how last weeks' bingo night was, anyway . . . chock full of rudeness.  I can't really recall a time, aside from my years of working as a cocktail waitress, when people are just pissy in masses.  But at bingo, they just are.

So, for the sake of clarity, bingo-go-ers . . . calm down.  Be patient.  It's not my fault you didn't win.  Them's the odds folks.  There's a bigger chance of losing than winning, so if you're gonna be a sore sport, then don't play.  Duh.

Also, I can't close my mind after last week and not blog just a teeny weeny bit about this grandma that came in last week.  She came in with her bingo bag and her office supplies ready to buy packets and extras and tape and glue them and get it all together.  That's nothing different.  That's standard fare for the hard core bingo players.  But this toothless little grandma stands out in my mind because she came in shirtless.  Yes, folks, shirtless.  It was a very warm day out, in her defense.  But even on the hottest of days, most folks down think, "hmm  . . . I'm too sexy for my shirt . . . I think I'll just wear this very thin thread-bare floral printed training bra from 1942 . . . "

And with that, I'll let you all ponder the situation.  A toothless grandma playing bingo in a bra.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Sometimes a photo captures how you really feel . . . how you really are . . . what you really do.

Here's that picture for me.

I love this picture.  It's been on the refrigerator since 2009, that's how much I love it.  But it fell off last week, and I took it as a sign to put it somewhere else   . . . .

Lilies . . .


I probably snapped this picture a day late, but it's still pretty.  One of my only asiatic lilies this year.

Very striking color, but it's kinda hidden in some other tall things.  

Middle loves these yellow stripes.

Our overall favorite so far this year  . . . an orange double day lily that's living in the parkway bed in front.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Then and Now

July 2005 . . .

My eye is drawn to that red rock.  Middle painted it for me and wrapped it as a gift.  I love that rock.  Look at a tiny piece of cuteness peeking out the window. 

July 2011 . . .

I call the crabapple tree in the front bed 'the family tree'.  It's what I wanted to look at when we moved in.  I rocked babies in the front room and watched everything out that bay window . . . sunsets, birds, flowers, thunderstorms and snow showers.  I can't believe how big it's gotten. 

And because I still adore the overall look of our house . . . .  a full frontal (tee hee) shot:

The trees amaze me.  The tree in the parkway was a tiny twig when I put it in.  I just thought the street was lacking trees and randomly put it there.  It's big enough to climb now & provides a shady picnic spot, on the lawn, or a parking spot on the street.  We call the maple tree that is on the main part of the front lawn Clifford.  In fall, it's the biggest, reddest thing on our block. 

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Little's Tree . . . then and now . . .

July 2006.  I planted a fast growing cottonless cottonwood for Little.  He actually chose it from the hail damaged section at Lowe's.

He was so stinkin' cute!!  And the tree was so tiny!!  Well, they both were, I guess. 

July 2011 . . . Little and his tree . . . 

There's no way I can get this whole tree in.  Fast growing is right.  These are known for putting on six feet per year and I'd say that's true.  It towers over the upper level of our house now . . . so what's that 35? 40 feet . . . . It's huge.   It still will fill out quite a bit, but it's a great shade tree & the kids climb it all the time.  

A tiny detour . . .

I'm famous for tiny detours.  It's part of what makes me such a terrible road tripper.  I'm forever stopping along the way to look at things, piddle, stretch or explore.   Here's the tiny detour I took on the way home last week . . . .

It wasn't much more than a pit stop, bathroom break and some walking about on wooden plank trails, but it was good wiggle time for the small people.  Plus, we got to see cool lizards and read a bunch of nature signs about how the canyon was formed.  Cool beans.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Bingo. My blogging decision.

Okay, I've been thinking about this a lot lately.  A lot.

About two weeks ago, I completed my first bingo shift as a gymnastics booster club parent.  It was, er, um, eye opening.  Since then, I've been contemplating:

a.  Creating another blog specifically about bingo.  Yes, there really is THAT much to say.
b.  Keeping all bingo forays to myself.  After contemplation, I'm not sure I can.
c.  Given that I can't keep it to myself, what's appropriate disclosure?  More than anything, I wish I could take pictures.  A good photo gallery and catchy captions of bingo patrons would put to shame.  Crying shame.   So I can't keep it to myself but I can't share it all either.  I'll work on coming up with a happy medium.

So, option C is the winner.  I can't help but blog a bit about my experiences at bingo.  I simply can't help it. I will try my very  best to be not-judgemental.  I'll also keep it to first names & no photos.  I realize that it's a slight, slight, slight, snowballs chance in hell that ANY bingo go-er might stumble across my blog and recognize their own name . . . but I'm nothing if not safe.

So . . . . I did my first shift on July 5th.  I showed up on time, at 5:15.  I was outfitted in my running shoes as the trainers had warned me that I'd be running my butt off all night.  July 5th required extra people, as it was a "must-go" night.  That means that the progressive jackpot had to be won that night.  $7,589.  Had to go on July 5th.  We were expecting a bigger crowd, therefore needed more people to operate the joint.

I came prepared to run my ass off.

And . . . I wandered aimlessly selling single bingo cards for 50 cents each for about an hour and a half.  It was positively mind numbing.  My life moves much, much faster than bingo nights, at least with that job.  Deciding that the people are where the action is, I charted chatting it up with a few folks that looked like regulars.   I met a very ornery and cantankerous old man called El.   At first exchange, he came off as abrasive and rude as hell.   But he reminded me 100% of my dad, so I dished a little shit back his way.  Pretty soon, he was asking about my kids and talking with MOTH, too.  Nice guy and very full of piss and vinegar.  

When the games finally started,  my very boring job continued.  You sell your color of card until that game actually begins.  I thought when I sold my bucket out, I'd get something glorious, like a new job.  But no, I just got another stack of 20 to sell.  Painful, painful, painful.    Still, selling cards is where the veteran bingo bosses put the newbies.  For one, I think they don't want to have to talk to them in the office.  There is a little bit of hazing that goes on.   Or maybe there are bitter parents who have been doing this for a decade and they don't want to talk to newbies and risk that their bitter breath will rub off on the fresh innocence of people like ME.   Side note:  the office should be a cage.  I can't help but think it's appropriate to have bars on it with that much cash in there.  Anyway, second, because newbies are known for screwing things up.  I guess it's easier to correct a 50 cent mistake than the other options.  Newbie that I am, I was stuck with selling 50 cent things for the bulk of the night.

The night progressed and was uneventful.  I started yawing right at bedtime and was glad when the last two games of the night were up and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.  A nice lady, who is a regular won the progressive jackpot.  All by herself.  She was overjoyed and it was really hard not to smile and jump up and down with her, sharing her excitement.   I've never seen nearly EIGHT THOUSAND dollars as a wad of cash before.  It was kind-of amazing.

I learned how to do critical things like verify bingos and monkey with these electronic bingo machines called TEDs.  I learned how to balance bins and cash things in and pay the winners.  It was okay.  Slow for my pace, but okay.

The most exciting part of the night came at the very end.    Everyone was packing up and leaving when one last patron came to the "pickle counter".  I was manning pickles at that point in the evening.  Think of pickles as lottery tickets with pull tabs.  They're either a buck a piece or 25 cents each.  And people buy them in bulk.  For example, at the end of the night, this lady came up, slapped down $60 and said, "I'll take 20 from this, one this, one and this one (indicating which, of course)."  She stood over the trash can opening her $60 in pickle pull tabs right in front of me.  Some are instant winners, which she threw back at me for more un-pulled pickles.  Any cash back has to come from the office.  She kept pulling, and kept winning a dollar here & a dollar there.  When she finally came up empty, she peeled off another $40 from her wallet and took another 20 from two different buckets.  And she peeled.  And she pulled.  And she cashed in her $5 and $1 winners.  At last, she was all pickled out again and she peeled off another $40 from her wallet and said she wanted forty more.  She gave me instructions to reach deep and mix them up.  And I did.  And she stood there over the trashcan peeling pickles faster than I imagined possible.  Then, she began jumping up and down.  She pulled a $500 winner.  Okay, so she spent a weeks' worth of grocery money to finally win that $500, but she did it.

I went home from my first bingo night in a very quiet, contemplative state of mind.  It really wasn't that bad.

On parents:  I worked with a really nice mom, whose daughter is awesome.  I've watched her for years from the gallery, and Middle says that she is SUPER nice to the new kids.  That's the kind of girl I like to associate with.  She must have learned that from somewhere, and her mom is walking proof.  That's Eleanor.  And her daughter is Meghan.  I also worked with a nice guy named Darren.  He even remembered me the next day at the gym.  I was thinking, "Whew, maybe this will be a team building thing for parents, too . . . I could use a little moral support."   I already forgot his daughter's name, but there are 56 kids, so no surprise.  I was immediately impressed by the dad-involvement.  Coming from a PTA background, I imagined booster club to be the same . . . ie:  the dads have great intentions but the moms do all the work.  Not so.  There were dads doing the same stuff as the moms.   I worked with a lady named Vicki who was very nice to the newbies.  Oh, and MOTH, who had an amazingly positive attitude all night long.  And Danielle & Jennifer, who both have daughters in the same level as Middle.  

On bingo:  A boat load of money gets thrown down at bingo.  I see why the booster club can pay for travel and spirit leos and all of the extra odds and ends.  It's a sweet money making gig.   But I have to be honest .  . . I was kind of sad.  I can't put my finger on exactly why . . . just kind of sad at the whole thing, the opportunity, the event.  The way we (I'm talking society) spends money left me melancholy and introspective.  I would be a terrible gambler.  Terrible.  I've been a penny pincher and saver of pennies since I was a little kid.  It's not different now.  I would NEVER spend money on "pickles" because the risk of NOT winning would keep my wallet in my pocket.  I'm not a financial risk taker.  At all.

More bingo talk later . . . . topics still on my mind .  . . people, fried chicken, bingo dobbers, the very elaborate set up, the caller, eating dinner, balls, side games, scotch tape & glue sticks.  Much, much more to come.

Planking . . ie . . . The Lying Down Game

I'm not even joking.

Planking or The Lying Down Game is a real thing.  I stumbled across it through a link that someone posted on facebook.  The kids thought it was a riot.  We're not playing the super-duper dedicated internet version, and (if you are going to google this, like I did) . . . I'm not planning to cause death or injury like the dillweed that tried to plank out of his 8th story window, fell out and died.  Duh.  The subject came up at our last park excursion . . . . so  . . . .  here are our first family planking pictures.  The kids could barely keep a straight face doing this.  They giggled and chuckled and snorted until we were all bustin' a gut.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

I'm on fire . . .

I'm ON FIRE.  Like crazy en fuego the last few days.  It's kind-of atypical for me in extreme heat . . . I hate every minute I have to spend about 80 degrees, but in the last couple of days, I have:

* gotten my new car
* rearranged the garage so it will fit
* re-hung my tennis ball so I won't crash into anything
* moved MOTH's car to the other side
* moved the refrigerator to the other side so nobody has gets stuck between the truckster & the wall getting a new gallon of milk (anyone confused?  we go through four gallons of milk per week here)
* done home improvement 101: installed UV blackout film to the garage windows . . . take that you peeping toms
* gotten a garage door opener installation quote & scheduled installation
* been to Target -- bought a bunch of sweet sale spontaneous school supplies along with a very cool Captain America back pack for Little
* done bank deposits, accounting & whittled the pile on my desk down to four non-essential, no-timeframe tasks
* cleaned the fridge & the freezer, made a menu & a grocery list
* done a bunch of laundry & cleaned two closets . . . added to the Goodwill pile & scheduled a pick up for Monday
* talked to my dad & scheduled a visit for next week
* watched the World Cup
* found a new app I love:  "words with friends" -- LOVE IT
* walked the neighborhood several times . . . what's up with the weeds, neighbors?  Pull your damn weeds.  Or do some overall landscape maintenance.  Sheesh.  Your neglect is making surrounding property values plummet.  I understand if you want to go the no-grass-only-rock-method . . but that doesn't give you a free ride to take the summer off.  Spray some round-up, for God's sake.
* taken the kids to the dentist . . . . 88 teeth.  One cavity (but it's in a baby tooth, so no necessary action!) Watched the dentist lance a plugged salivary duct.  Cool.  Saliva fountain.  Mimi had her first visit.  So stinkin' cute and such a big kid!!

* sold two bikes and a shopvac from the garage . . . making room . . . go me!

I have also:

* scheduled doctor visits for Big, Middle and Little
* scheduled an orthodontic consult for Big
* driven the carpool to volleyball camp . . . I was the taker and picker-up on Monday for five girls . . . saw this cool thing in the front yard of one of my pickups:

. . . there were actually EIGHT bucks laying on their lawn.  Talking about deer
with the carpool load last night, we thought it odd that "bucks" and "doe" are
both money words.  What do deer know that we don't?  Think I could get a deer to
scratch a lottery ticket, just in case?? 
* during camp time, last night, I had on my super-mommy cape . . .  I loaded bikes for Middle, Little, and mine (for Mimi and me) .   I also packed a picnic dinner & all the stale bread from the freezer.  We rode bikes for two full hours, stopping only to feed the geese and watch part of a baseball game while we had sandwiches.  Mimi kind of hoarded the cheese balls.  She calls herself the cheese ball manager.
* Okay, I lied.  We also stopped to play at this park:

* went to Costco today . .  I'd like to take a brief moment to celebrate the cargo capacity in the new truckster . . . I bought a bale of toilet paper and a bale of paper towel along with several other household essentials and made it home with neither children or paper products strapped to the roof.  Yea.
* I'm on new-car high, so I have to say . . . it turned 100 miles.  I was kind-of sad.
* took Tana to the vet . . . she's overweight.  Huh?
* scheduled boarding, a hotel and a surprise getaway for the family before school starts . . .

and so much more . . .  but that list is making me feel pretty damn accomplished, so I'm stopping.

Saturday, July 16, 2011


I'll save it for making peanut butter cookies or for baking, I guess.  One unanimous word from all of my peanut butter lovers:  "ewww."

Friday, July 15, 2011

Goodbye. Hello.

Goodbye, Beck.  You've been a good car.  I will miss your automatic lift gate and navigation.  I will not miss how the DVD console in the back hangs down and racks everyone's head when they get in.  I also will not miss your lack of space in the back, especially on long road trips or ski trips next year.

Hello Giant Tin-Foil, Chipotle Burrito.  I think I might still call you Beck.  It sounds better than Gut Bomb.  I love your cargo capacity.  I will love being able to take all the children with me to Costco AND come home with more than a pack of panties and a watermelon.  I love your running boards.  I also love your dark interior.  Please hide stains well.  

Oh, oh, and the novelty hasn't worn off yet.  It is, after all, my FIRST day with my brand-spankin'-new giant silver family truckster.  I've never had a NEW car before . . . so I love, love, love your new car scent and the very LOW odometer reading.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Bowling . . .

That's right, folks.  Another un-bummer summer activity today.  Mimi was stinkin' adorable in her princess dress and bowling shoes.  She insisted on bowling "all by her OWN", which is Mimi-speak for "by myself".  Of course, she chose the heaviest ball.  The prettiest marbled blue and green and purple ball, but also the heaviest ball.  Who says there's no fashion in bowling?  She looked like a world's strongest man contestant hefting that giant ball up onto the ramp, but damned be anyone who tried to help.    Little bowled his first game with no ramp.  Middle is a gymnast at heart.  She has an adorable hurdle-hop right before she lets the ball go. Big is discombobulated and stands on the wrong foot, but it's good clean family fun.  And dang near free, with my summer passes :)