PSPRTB

Also in common: How we are anti-baby-growing-up-to-be-cowboys.

2010-07-27T16:34:00Z

I've been seeing a lot of Willie Nelson lately.

Seriously. He's headlining at a venue with a similar name to the one at which I work, so I've seen it on my google searches. He made the paper recently, something along the lines of "aging country legend still works a good show."

Oddly, I made the paper this weekend, too. Something along the lines of "(Rabbit Hole) women weild hammers for a good cause." Should have read, "Lazy puffball employee of the (Rabbit Hole) needs to quit whining about getting mud in her hair at women's build." But, whatever.

So I have that in common with Willie Nelson, I guess. That and a fondness for long, messy braids in a ponytail.

We are almost Rasta.

Listen to this- speaking of Rasta - my mom bought what might be the most offensive shirt EVER for my nephew, and it ended up on Pumpkinhead this weekend. It features a turtle-kid, with dreds and a jamaican-red-striped hat, looking back over it's turtle-shoulder, while mooning the viewer. On it's butt is the word "HOLA!"

Seriously.

And then it says, "Greetings from Belize" or something like that.

Raise your hand if you are offended.

Now stop giggling.

Anyway, so, I'll be returning this shirt to my mother's house. McBasket will probably be allowed to wear it. Pumpkinhead? Not so much.

Know what else I did? I TOTALLY made some bead jewelry, and I think it looks very Chanel. Pink. White. Black. See?

I am awesome.

You know what else I did? I went to my boss's house and felt VERY UNCOMFORTABLE. I don't even want to talk about it. It was weird.

Less than two weeks until my next race!!!!!! BOOOM.

My husband, who is truly my favorite human being on Earth, is not answering his phone, and it is therefore unlikely that he will bring me McDonald's. He must HATE his days off, wherein I expect him to fetch. But I would LOVE a happy meal, so think happy thoughts.

Happy Tuesday, everybody!

Oh, baby.

2010-07-22T15:55:00Z

So my boss has three kids. One of them, the oldest, seems to have her shit together pretty well, works a lot, that sort of thing. The next one - the prettiest, it's ridiculous, actually, how, despite a bajillion piercings and WAAAAAAAY too much eye make up, this girl is so stunning - anyway, that one has a four-year-old who is a cute kid, if perhaps a bit too indulged. The third daughter, the Cindy, if you will, is disarming and sort of sweet, very cute, but also has a terrible temper and occasionally behaves similarly to the four-year-old.

She's about 21. 22. Something like that.

Anyway, this third kid, we'll call her Cindy Brady, she had a baby on Monday.

Now, my boss is very maternal, and she's pretty happy about this sweet little baby (who is super cute, I mean, all girly and fun). Anyway, but she's been calling me every day with news, and I know WAAAAAAAAAAAY too much about her daughter's ability to nurse, how she pushed, how she hemorrhaged a little bit, etc. Lordy, lordy.

But the boss, she's going out of town on Friday, and somehow... SOMEHOW... I've volunteered to go over to her house on Saturday for a little while, bringing Pumpkinhead to play with the four-year-old, and sort of look after the daughter.

SUCKER.

But still, I get to hold a newborn on Saturday, so that's fun. Right?

Tell me I'm right.

Otherwise, I have nothing to report to you people. We are singing a "spiritual" at church, and it amuses me to have a bunch of elderly whiteys trying to sing "Joshua fit de battle of Jericho." It's fun to sing, though. Also, we are doing Handel. Keep it diverse, right?

Beanie took me for a run on Monday, but that story probably deserves its very own post, so I am going to save it for you for another time.

Happy Thursday, peeps.

I don't know what to call this one, except... goofy-looking.

2010-07-16T18:36:00Z

Remember that one time when I sang the National Anthem at my boss's bawl ? REMEMBER???

Here - finally - is the one professional photographer's shot of me. Which is funny, because I am CERTAIN I saw at least a couple of flashes. The only picture we ended up taking ourselves is here .

Seriously. One.

So let's break it down, shall we?

1. Yes, I did close my eyes and look all passionate about my love for the country, why do you ask?

2. Yes, I did wear wwwwwaaaaayyyyyyyy too much eyeshadow.

3. Shut it, my face looks thinner now.

4. Yes, my arms clearly are man-hairy.

5. No, I don't have a claw-hand, and the space between my middle finger and ring finger are actually normal. It's a green sapphire, actually, and thank you. My mom bought that for me.

I'm quite disappointed in the fact that this is the best picture I could get, but it is what it is. Call it my gift to you on a Friday - a pure, unadulterated excuse to point and laugh. Have at it. Let 'er rip.

I hope you all have a fantastic weekend. I'll be all down at "the Chuck" with some little kids, introducing Pumpkinhead to one of my least favorite things in the world, and I believe he will love it. Sigh.

Hope springs from a well not running?

2010-07-15T20:42:00Z

http://www.nola.com/news/gulf-oil-spill/

I don't know what to say. I don't know if I can believe this or not. Like I told my co-worker... xBigGiantTurtleKillingOilMagnatex is like my worst boyfriend in high school... building me up, just to knock me back down again.

I think it's too soon to celebrate, but...

Maybe?

And then what?

Then they start to figure out what to do with the water, the swamps, the reeds and the beaches? The birds and the turtles (if there are any left) and the fish?

I don't think we are going to feel like any of this is "over" any time soon.

Still... hope?

I do like that the kid knows his geography.

2010-07-12T19:39:00Z

Yesterday was breakit day. Seriously. BREAKIT. Look it up. It ~~totally does~~ could possibly exist.

In the morning, Husband's sort-of-new-to-him-car, one which he is sort of "testing out" for a few weeks, left him non-moving on the off-ramp of the freeway (or highway. or interstate. whatever you want).

AND THEN the dishwasher threw up a million coffee-grounds on all the dishes, only THERE WERE NO COFFEE GROUNDS IN THERE, and if you cough up coffee grounds, you are dying, so it goes without saying...

AND THEN the dryer stopped being warm.

Oh, alas, the breakage.

None of this has been permanently repaired, mind you, but everything is suffering along, duct-taped or otherwise being required to pretend it works. We'll see.

Today is an improvement (thus far), which is sad, since I'm working, instead of being all at home-y.

Anyway, so on Saturday, my mom took me and my two boys and McBasket to the aquarium, and then we rode the ferry over to Algiers (because Pumpkinhead really wanted to go on a BOAT in a CAR) and then drove back over the bridge to get home. I love that the kid shouts, "This is the MISSISSIPPI WIVER, MAWMAW." It was a fun time, the boys were seriously cute.

I'm boring, I'm sorry.

I sang contemporary hits with the Youth Praise Band yesterday, and we RAWKED. I was all lmL. It was kewl.

Officially no longer a toddler!

2010-07-08T15:51:00Z

Oh, four. You sprang upon us like a cheetah, didn't you.

Last night, the Last Night of Three, he slept without a pacifier (shut up with the judging). He didn't fuss, he didn't cry. He just didn't sleep.

Tired today.

But this morning, he jumped all out of bed, all a-birthdaying, requesting candy for breakfast (of course! it's your birthday! I suggested a cupcake, he chose candy, I just flat-out don't care!), and getting dressed with a big ol' button that says "Today is my 4th Birthday!"

Happiness is a four year old.

(of course that's not true. happiness is a birthday. duh.)

He's the best, truly.

Happy Birthday, you lovely, ridiculous kid. You may say no, but the finger says yes.*

*Last night, at dinner, he and I were arguing. "NO," I said. "Yuh-huh," he said. "NO," I said. "Yuh-huh," he said. After several rounds of this, he raised one pointer finger, andwaggled it up-and-down at me. "The finger says yes," he said. I did NOT tell him the finger can shut it (although I thought that), mostly because I knew that there would be some point today, at work, wherein I would waggle my finger up-and-down and say, "the finger says yes."

Miscellaneous Items, like Lost and Found, only neither lost nor found, so not really like that at all.

2010-07-07T21:21:00Z

Item The First: To the people who are driving your little death trap snow-mobile-looking jet skis immediately across the little land bridge from the water outside my office, bite me. I feel sure you are a douchebag, but this is strictly because I am in an office, wearing clothes, and you are on a jet ski. Not that I like jet skis, mind you... I just want to be on a boat. WITHOUT OIL.

Item The Second: My boss, who is a solid 5 foot 8 or so, announced today that she liked being "fat and happy," in that she now weighs 109 pounds! IMAGINE THE FATNESS.

Item The Third: My baby turns four tomorrow. FOUR. TOMORROW. HE IS OLD AND HUGE. And he makes up songs in the bathtub. Songs that will kill you with the cuteness, about starfishes and moons and water balloons.

Item The Fourth: There is oil in my lake. I don't want to talk about it.

Item The Fifth (that looks to be spelled wrong, but no, I don't think so): About seventy or at least three people have tried to recruit me away from my current job, which is to say, they've come into my work, been blown away with my awesomeness, and then told my boss they want me. HA. Also, my mom suggested I might want to go to work for the evil xOilSpillVikingMonstersx (or whatever it was that I called them last week). Which I will not be doing, in that, though they might like me, I am not so very much into them.

Item The Sixth: I am pretty sure I did not invent the phrase "Katy Perrying", but I did use it multiple times this weekend. Which is not to say that I actually DID any Katy Perrying (of course I didn't), but, it came up in conversation many times.

Item The Seventh: I did use the phrase "something fishbally" in a convo with my boss today. Hunh. I think I was combining "fishy" and "screwbally" and that's what we got. I like it. Fishbally.

Item The Eighth: FOUR. TOMORROW.

That is all.

"Thank you for calling Live Sea Turtle Incenerator, How May I Help You?"

2010-07-02T16:15:00Z

Oh, internets.

I just heard myself saying, out loud, "We some blue creamer hogs out heyah." Yep. That's the kind of way things are rolling around here.

In addition, as you may recall, I work for a teensy tinsy convention center, wherein a certain not-to-be-named xOilSpillDemonCompanyx is going to be holding some training this weekend, and early next week.

Whenever said xOilSpillDemonCompanyx does this sort of thing, the crazies come out of the woodwork to call me. They want to know how they can help, they want to know if their little pirogue (it's like a canoe) is good enough to skim, they want to know WHEN THEY WILL GET PAID.

I swear to god, I'm about to start answering the phone inappropriately.

In other news, hey, look! It's almost the 4th! Woo. Whatever, man, hard to make myself care about that right now.

I had an unanticipated day off on Wednesday because the daycare called and Pumpkinhead "had a rash." Seriously. But it was fun. I did some cross stitching.

If you follow me on twitter (which you should), you would already know that I'm troubled because I don't think I've ever met anybody in real life whose name is Roger. What's up with THAT?

Annnnnnd, what else?

Oh, did you want me to tell you how I had a big blubbery crying meltdown because THERE IS OIL ON MY BEACH? Well, there is. And I did. Shut up.

It's 11ses at my work, I am the only girl in the building (SERIOUSLY), and I work for an xOilSpillDemonCompanyx, apparently, and I'm pissed off about it.

So I'm going to get some McDonalds. Happy 4th, everybody... hope you are celebrating it on an EAST COAST BEACH so I can be jealous and pissed at your good fortune!

(my, aren't I lovely today?)

Sigh.

Real, live email I sent to a former mini-manager of mine at lunchtime today (I know, I was driving, shut it, I was at a light.)

2010-06-22T20:47:00Z

"I just drove past the fat version of Higgins riding
a bicycle in a cut off tshirt. Kicking myself for
not getting a picture. Man boobs hanging out the
armholes."

(This may well be my favorite email of the month.)

Absurdly absurd! I don't know why you say goodbye...

2010-06-21T19:16:00Z

Pull up a chair, boys. This isn't going to be short. I have too much absurdity to tell you about.

First, a little cute. Take your almost-four-year-old to the ice cream shop for the first time in his life. C'mon, I dare you. It's awesome. Seriously. But be prepared to pick for him, because it is just TOO MUCH CHOICES. TOO MUCH.

Anyway, on to the absurd.

I need to preface that my publicly owned workplace has a bored of erectors (close enough). On said bored, there is a laday who is odd and unusual and very old and really quite fantastic. She used to be snippy to me, but I won her over by fixing her computer. Which wasn't broken, but she thought it was, so I reap the benefits.

Anyway, so she's moving out of her house, and her current situation is kind of heartbreaking; husband in Hospice and facilitated living space, and she's got to let go of her life and the home they loved together. She doesn't know where she is going to go, but she decided it's time to go. That being said, she's cleaning out her junk.

So she invited me to come over and go through it.

(only I get these sorts of invitations, mind you.)

So I called Janie on my way over there (not intending to take her junk, rather just wanting to offer some happy company), expressing disbelief over this situation and sharing that, oh - can't believe I forgot this part - that the day before, my boss text-messaged me that we will be having a "girls' night sleepover" at this lady's house one day in July.

.

Really.

Anyway, so Janie and I giggle and long-distance high-five, and she agrees to alert the authorities if I don't come home, and so I go into this lady's house.

Which has an indoor Zen garden. And ovaries in the doors (long story). Whatevs.

So I go there, and then we begin to visit and I let it be known that I knit, and she's all, "oh what do you knit?" and I'm all "oh, socks, mainly" and she bursts into happy rainbow tears and ushers me into her attic (!) and pulls out this haul of sock yarn. In wool. And then she gets a bajillion old-old-old-old knitting patterns and then - AND THEN - she pulls out her knitting needle stash, which is enormous and largely IVORY, and she presses all of this on me.

Which I take.

Because, ohmyGod IVORY.

And then she pours SEVEN cups of chamomile/lemongrass tea down my throat, and I'm like, hey, it's 10:00, I should go home now, and SHE is like, "wait dear, we need to talk about our upcoming evening plans."

? Oh, yes. Of course, the girl's night sleepover.

Nope.

She has PREREGISTERED me for an HOUR with her spiritual advisor/psychic/palm reader for a reading of my very own, and it will cost me ONLY $65!

Aren't I lucky?

(I will not be going to this.)

So soon after that I left, with a bunch of yarn and IVORY needles and patterns for seventies style tam o'shanties and the like.

Hunh.
-----
And THEN it turned into Sunday, and we have a new preacher-lady at church, the vice-preacher, if you want. And it was her first Sunday, and she got to preach. And she used, for her sermon, a quote from Sister Somebody-or-another, "Make Love, Make Believe, Make Hope."

.

Two quotes from her sermon:

"Fathers and Mothers make love in a very special way."

"What corners of your house do you need to make love in?"

Well. We've only lived in our house about 10 months... there's still plenty of time...

Anyway, it was teh awesome.
-----
AND THEN my mom was at my house for supper, and she offered to pay for me to get braces.

I am 35.

I will possibly allow her to do that.
-----
AND THEN this morning, I got into the shower, and only AFTER I was soaking wet did I see this two-inch beetle looking at me from the shower curtain. THAT PART WAS NOT COOL.

Especially when he lost his footing, fell about a foot, and listened to me scream like a little girl.

I love absurdity, except for when it involves beetles.

Beatles would have been fine, of course. Well, maybe not in the shower...

Happy Monday, absurd little world-beasts!

Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

2010-06-18T19:52:00Z

I am delighted in the universe today.

We had a big, super-boomy thunderstorm (ahhhhhh, finally!) and there is a quilt show at my work.

Let me digress, a bit, and mention that quilting shows are just like my (current) church. Me and a couple of hundred of my closest old people. Mostly women. I love it. LOVE.

That sweet Pentacostal boy who works here said "Loooooooud ladies in there..." See? Just like church!

The quilts are gorgeous and I love them, and there are fat quarters and a lot of MODA fabric to buy and I haven't bought ANY because, well, I'm poor, but oh, how I want them. WANT.

AND we got to have free lunch (hot dog, chips and M&Ms - SCORE), too.

Pretty much the perfect day. PERFECT.

Anyway, so... Father's Day!!! Crap. This is the first year in, oh, 8ish that I'm anywhere near my dad, and the Allman Brothers have already come and gone, so my go-to present is out the window. Oh, and did I mention that my mom's birthday is two days later? And then Pumpkinhead's birthday?

Dammit.

Too many presents.

But still, summer!!!!

And perfect days!!!

Happy!!!

Call me something.... or let's talk about Jesus, shall we?

2010-06-16T17:01:00Z

Titles
Please don't. Don't call me baby. Please ignore me when I call you baby, because I might, I kind of do, sometimes, and it's horrifying. Husband calls everyone who works under him "boss," and anyone peer-or-above, "buddy." Apparently, we must title everyone! Not to mention the nick-naming. Who else calls their kids Beanie and Pumpkinhead (who, let's face it, we've never called "Pumpkinhead.") Or "pal," "wookie-woo" (often leading to a Beastie Boys-like riff of, instead of 'so whatcha whatcha watcha whatcha want," "wookie wookie wookie wookie woo"), or anything? Anybody? I call my cat "fatty-boo." Seriously.

Anyway, so for me? My boss occasionally calls each of us by our name, plus the word "belle." (Hence T-Belle, but she now answers to that.) Princess-belle, ish, that's me. She doesn't do this with our other female coworker, and I don't know why. But she herself? KLo. Not to her face, but if I can get everybody else to think this, it will surely stick.

But here, in Louisiana? You'd think it would be a lot of Miss So-and-So (and it is), but there is a whole lot more "Baby." PHead's daycare teacher calls me baby (and him). The girl at the gas station, the asian one? Calls me baby. Strangers. People who know me. Whatever, I am all their babies. I am everybody's baby.

Superpowers
I have mentioned before that Husband has an amazing ability to heal, like, in a day, from, say, major surgery. It's one of his superpowers. One of mine is that I grow incredible fingernails. Not kidding, my nails are GORGE. White-tipped, despite desperate efforts to nicotine-stain them, longer than I like, leading me to chop them off on a regular basis. I don't file them. They grow into perfectly rounded, smooth, french-manicure-looking things. I am AWESOME at growing fingernails. You would think my hair would be awesome, too, but it's not. At all. It's frizzy and crapped up, dull and unhealthy, and very much in need of a trim it isn't going to get.

Camp
Beanie spent last week at a Christian Camp in Panama City, Florida, wherein he jammed with a bunch of praise bands and acted mildy wildly. He had fun, but he was texting me on his return trip, and it looked like this:

Beanie - "This experience has renewed my faith and greatly increased its potency"
"That is cool" - Me
Beanie - "Yes it is and my eyes have been opened to a new way of thinking and feeling"
"I can't wait to hear about it!" - Me
Beanie - "I can't wait to talk because i can help you feel closer to god now believe it or not"

And this is when I felt like cautioning him to avoid the kool ade. What a hypocrite I am, and I know it, but... I don't like preachy talk...

Did you hear about Touchdown Jesus?
On the way to Sistuh's house in Ohio (and Grandpa's), this has always been among our favorite landmarks. We've never called it "Touchdown Jesus" before, but we would have if we had thought of it first. It's hard to describe how crazy enormous this Jesus is, and I giggled any reverence away because, I mean... look.

giggle.

Anyway, so it got struck by lightening, and that's a big ol' bummer, because now we have the whole way from Cincin to Dayton wherein we will all be forced to sing "Baby, if you ever wonder, wonder what ever became of me..." (and by "we will all," I mean "I will, much to the chagrin of the boys with whom I live and travel. loud.")

But, here's something fun that I just saw. Before it got hit, there's been lots of images working with Touchdown Jesus, including shopped-in-footballs:

Some new clothes:

or just a general fan moment of dork-outiness:

Thanks for the memories, Touchdown Jesus! Go buc's (until the season starts, when I officially change this to "Geaux Tigers," of course).

(all photos from a google search, rendering me too lazy to cite locations, sorry people, except one site called makecincinattiweird.com, which was too good to not shout about)

Oily

2010-06-10T14:44:00Z

I really don't know what to write about these days. I mean, our plans for the summer? Well, Beanie is off at a camp in Florida right now, but that's about it for him. Pumpkinhead does swimming twice a week and the Snoball (we often refer to this as "no ball") man came to his school on Monday. Woo woo. It's just so dang borrrrring around here, but I mean, boring is okay, right? Boring, as in, just do the norm. Work, facebook, watch a couple of tv shows. Husband works all these ridiculous hours (except today - today he is helping my dad fix up the motor boat! Fun Times!), and me? I just do whatever.

I'm not complaining, mind you. I like whatever. But it's not very interesting.

My boss's daughter is pregnant, and I'm supposed to go to the baby shower, so I think I'm going to whip up a cheater quilt for her, primarily because I am piss-broke (as per usual) and I already have the goods for a cheater quilt. I'm making socks. Blah blah blah.

I haven't read or listened to anything wonderful lately, although I do have some new podcasts that I am enjoying.

Glee and whatnot. Treme. I do so love the tee vee. I did give my dad a lesson in DVR-ing yesterday, and I think he's quickly becoming the DVR's bitch, as we all do, since... I mean, seriously? I haven't watched anything in real-time in about three years.

I hate to say it, but it's the oil spill that's killing me here. Not personally impacting me in any way other than mildy irritated eyes and sinuses on particularly smelly days, but it gives me the blues. I can get sucked into it entirely, and waste 14 straight hours with CNN, but... for what? I mean, seriously. I delight at certain things (Obama asking whose ass he should kick was a hit with me), and I actually feel sorry for Tony Hayward. I mean, death threats, people? Really?

Anyway, but it's really hard to escape. I told my dad that I didn't want to be all mired in this, day after day (and, by the way, what the hell, mojo? WHAT THE HELL??), and my dad was all, "well, that's a risk - we sure don't want everyone to forget."

Dad.

Please.

I am in no danger of forgetting this is going on.

But, really? I can not do ANYTHING about it. And neither can he.

But, I've had some folks call to ask about it, mostly from Gawgia. Here's what I can tell you.

1) I have not seen any oil. There is none in the lake (Lake Pontchartrain, google it if you are unfamiliar, it's not really a lake, more like a big inlet with brackish water and fishes and awesomeness) yet.

2) Boom is orange. I have seen it piled up by the rigolets (we say this word like, "wrigglies"), but I haven't seen it stretched out anywhere. Also, I hear that waves push the oil over the boom, and then there is all of this talk about the underwater plumes. So maybe the boom doesn't really do any good, I don't know.

3) The birds here are fine. The pelicans are gone, though, and I guess this is just the time of year that they fly off somewhere, anyway, but the coincidental timing is eerie, and I miss them.

4) It stinks. The oil stinks. Some days, you can't smell it at all, but days like yesterday? My work - inside - smelled like a refinery. I've done a little research, and the EPA says that we are at "moderate" levels of particulate in the air, and that we would have to be very sensitive to be affected. But, know this. I have had headaches, my skin looks like ass, and my throat hurts. I'll admit, this could just be a cold, but it's better today, and the smell is way better today, too.

5) We don't really want to close down the oil rigs in the gulf. A lot of fishermen are out of work, and the other big industry here is oil. So everybody will more or less be without work. AND the fishermen often work the rigs in the off-season. Just saying. We hate it, we are afraid of the oil, it kills us - KILLS US - to see pictures like the one below, but we don't want these guys to not work. We don't. My liberal hippy siblings might want to stop all drilling, and I see their side, but... I want people to have jobs.

That being said, we aren't seeing an immediate economic impact yet. My convention center is still booked. Husbands Not-Pancake house has actually seen an increase in business, as his is a good location for the fishermen people and government officials all aswarm around here.

But we expect that the business, for both of us, will decline.

Gas prices are higher. But then, that's to be expected.

6) I don't know what to direct you to do. I don't know how you can volunteer, I don't know where to go to clean up sea turtles, I don't know if you should even think about it. But if you do want to do all that, and need a place to stay, call me. I have a guest room, and I know people down da baya (that is to say, near Grande Isle) that can put you up if you need it.

Meanwhile, cut me some slack if I'm lame. I don't know what else to do right now!

Photo courtesy of nola.com

Update! On Nothing! As per Usual!

2010-06-04T15:54:00Z

My boss is going to be out of town for the next week.

I'm just going to say that again.

My boss. Is going to be. Out. Of. Town. for the next week.

You see, work has been all... well... worky.

Blech.

We had the audit, we had a millionish dollars to spend in six weeks (I've done this before, but with far less required documentation), and there was a worker's comp claim to process. Which was super-duper fun, in that we did not have a process for such a claim in place. I know, right?

We do now.

Anyway, so I've been all busy-bee, and then there is Glee and Treme and shows on the History Channel about the Dust Bowl. So, yeah. I've been busy.

But anyway, OUT OF TOWN FOR A WEEK.

Last weekend, Memorial Day weekend, I got to go "sailing" - quotes are there because there was no wind whatsoever, so mostly I got to go sit still in the lake, and I effing loved it. On Monday, my mom was taking McBasket home and sweet-talked me into coming with her. Halfway through the drive, we decided to take the little boys to this Global Wildlife place where we could feed animals.

I hugged a giraffe.

I HUGGED A GIRAFFE.

Whose name was "Zarah," I think, which is grande. GRANDE like a frappucino!

Anyway.

It was great, but both our phones were dead and I don't know how to work that stupid big camera anyway, so not a single picture was captured. Not one.

Doesn't matter.

The waf has been all worky. Aka Husband.

The big one is back running Cross Country with the CC "Club" at his school (they have to call it a "club" because they aren't allowed to do "training camp" or any other school-sanctioned activity during the non-school-year). He's rocking it hard... I think it's possible he will make varsity. Go 'head, Beanie!

PHead started "summer camp" at daycare this week, which included (in a four-day-week) two swim days, a day where they had a bouncy thing and a water slide (oh God, how the kid loves a "water swide"), and cooking today ("make a hero sandwich day," per the calendar). I've washed his swimsuit three times this week. I'm so happy. He gets two swim days a week, one "field trip" (only his age group doesn't leave the site), and a cooking day every week. Craft day is the other one, but I think that's on Mondays. Anyway, so yeah. $30 covered this for us during the summer. I totally think we lucked out.

So, that's what's new with me. What's gnu with ewe?

(god I groaned out loud just typing that.)

I LOVE this day!

2010-05-26T16:40:00Z

Y'all, today is my birthday - my 35th birthday - halfway to 70 - and I am just filled with delight.

DEEEEE LITE.

Seriously.

Everything makes me bubbly, everything from the sign my coworkers posted at "my" parking spot (technically, they posted it one spot away from where I usually park, since one of them came in at, like, 6 this morning and thus parked in "my" spot, which is abso-effing-lutely fine, since, I mean, really? 6? In the morning?) to the balloons wreathing my desk.

Pumpkinhead gave me my "fiwst pwesent" last night, a $10 iTunes card (thank you, Husband, God love you), and he is trying really hard (weally hawd) to believe it's my birthday even though he has not seen any signs of cupcakes.

I have, though... T-Belle baked me some.

Anyway, so I can list out other presents - gift cards to McDonald's, candy, candle... and some nice cards, or I can just tell you this story.

The sanest person I work with, who needs a nickname, come to think of it, is this one guy around my age (a little older) that pretty much keeps to himself. Unrelated, he totally had reason to get mad at me yesterday, but when I popped my head into his office to apologize, he apologized to me (too), and that was really very nice.

Anyway, so this guy was up at my desk, talking to this other guy who is contracted to do some sound or lighting or some such for an event.

My coworker-guy is putting the other guy's number into his phone, and coworker-guy says, "Do you spell your name in any unusual way?"

(I am pretty sure coworker-guy forgot the other guy's name)

I go, "Yep. It's Andy with a 'P'."

Happy My Birthday everybody!!!

Q & A Session

2010-05-20T15:23:00Z

Sarah did this, and I thought, well, that's fun. We haven't done anything survey-ish or meme-ish in a long time. So, here you go. Besides, I am lazy.

10 Questions From Sarah:

1. What’s your favorite color?

Pink. Also red, but mostly pink. Because it is pink. All pinks.

2. If you were headed to a desert island and could take just one CD, what would it be?

The Best of Linda Ronstadt. Shut up with the judging.

3. Ginger or Mary Ann?

Gilligan.

4. Cake or pie? Why? What kind? (Yeah, I’m calling that one question.)

Warm cherry pie with vanilla ice cream melting on it. And this sucks, because Husband hates cherries. Weirdo.

5. What was your favorite book when you were in high school?

"Sugar Petite", by somebody unknown, whose name, I think, was Mildred? I dunno. My grandmother had a signed copy of this book, and I still think it's one of the sweetest stories I have ever read.

6. What is your dream car?

A vintage dark-green jag convertible, with beige top and leather interiors. RRRRORRRWWWW.

7. If you had unlimited resources for a service project anywhere in the world, what would you do and where?

I think I would open a bunch of cat houses like my brother's mother-in-law has, air conditioned, comfy homes for, like, thirty stray or otherwise homeless cats at a time. But I would pay somebody else to do the litter boxes, because I am only philanthropic to a point.

8. Do you speak a language other than English?

I studied French for nine years, and I've had dreams in French, so I think I was pretty much fluent at one time, but not so much anymore.

9. What is your musical guilty pleasure?

Chewy sweet tarts, audiobooks on the nanopants while I knit, anything involving being alone with fancy coffee.

10. What did you do on your last vacation?

What is this "vacation" thing of which you speak? I guess my quick weekend to Georgia for Easter counts, but it was a necessity, not just a relax measure. The last time my husband and I went on any kind of for-fun trip was two summers ago, with the boys, to stay in a condo with my parents at San Destin, and I adored every moment of it.

Sarah continues by asking for responses to the following, and I thought, well, if we are going to steal, let's go all the way. So, here you go:

1) Name the first grown up book you read.

2) What is your favorite movie with Kevin Bacon in it?

3) Name one song that you love but you are embarrassed to admit it.

4) What was the best meal of your life?

5) What was the first concert you ever saw live?

I'm sitting in the railway station...

2010-05-19T15:27:00Z

I am in pre-audit mode at work this week, and I can pretend all I want to that I don't like it, but really? I do.

It's fun to go through files, jamming a little to Pandora, perhaps even singing along.

It's fun to make little notations, and to figure out what is right - and what is wrong.

It makes me feel important, a feeling I've been missing a little bit lately.

Otherwise, we are just gearing up for my baby cousin's wedding on Saturday. We leave really early Saturday morning - largely because the air conditioner is broken in the magic bus, and there's no effing way I'm spending five hours in the car after around 9:00 a.m.

Also because this will give us more time with the famb. Natch.

One of my cousins posted on Facebook that her crowd is heading home today, and I burn with jealousy. Funny, I never lived in the town where this wedding is happening... but I spent a bajillion Easters there, went there every summer break, have Christmas family portraits in front of my Aunt LaLa's Christmas tree. I drove a four-wheeler into a tree there (it wasn't my fault). I rode horses and played in the desert (which was really a dried-up lake bed, I am guessing). I scratched a wiry dog named Skeezer's ears there. Learned how to be not afraid of a shower. Enjoyed sno-balls from a stand you could walk to (that's what we call sno-cones down here) (sort of, well, kind of... they are better than sno-cones). Watched Gone With the Wind and made friendship bracelets out of embroidery thread. Drank Tang (unlimited supply, there) and played on the swingset in the backyard of the house my mother grew up in. Enjoyed "Uncle Beau"'s Brisket (Damn, I would LOVE to have some of that now!!!). Learned to play Bourre (look it up) and Frogger (lucky cousin A had an atari. bitch.) Spent hundreds of dollars (cumulatively) at Pecanland Mall, waiting until my mother and her sisters had consumed an entire dacqueri (I still don't know how to spell that) before I asked for another $5 bill for a GREAT pair of clip-on earrings, until my Aunt Scary took me by the arm, marching me across the mall to a kiosk, hissing that I needed to call her "mom", and getting my ears pierced for me. I still remember the look of horror in my own mother's face, knowing that she would have to tell her husband - a man whose mother never got her ears pierced - that his seven-year-old daughter was a woman now.

I think that this town - West Monroe, of all places, a town that might as well be El Dorado, Arkansas - is the closest thing I'll ever have to a real "home". It's the town where my mother was a basketball superstar, where my Aunt LaLa was voted "Most Popular" or something similar. The town where so many of my cousins grew up, leading to stories that start with, "so the police pulled me over and asked if I was one of (my uncle's name)'s boys." It is hot. It is dry. It is another planet from the place I live, in South Louisiana. It is like comparing Myrtle Beach to Asheville. It is fantastic.

Husband has never been there. Neither has Pumpkinhead. I can't wait to take them there, but I know they will be unimpressed.

"I am supposed to get excited that, at this McDonald's, you guys spread ketchup on the covered slide in the playland?" He will ask.

There's not much more to show off, there.

The house is gone. Skeezer is gone, too. The horses are long gone, the four-wheelers, rolled off somewhere else. The log-cabin-ish house by the "desert"? Gone.

My Aunt LaLa will be there, and Aunt Nanny, Aunt Scary, Aunt Bubba. Of the 15 first cousins (not counting the married-ins), I expect 12 or so will make it. One is a lost soul... we won't see him (he's the one who is at fault for the four-wheeler incident). There will be husbands and wives, a million babies of the next generation, and one tiny baby of the next-next generation, my... first cousin, twice removed. (!).

I can't wait to go home.

What I saw on Saturday, and then what I did that makes me proud.

2010-05-17T16:04:00Z

If you are over ~~fifty~~ ~~thirty~~ eleven, and you are male?

Don't wear spandex running shorts. OR little tiny nut-huggers, but especially spandex running shorts.

At our race on Saturday - about which I will tell more in a minute - there was this one dude in an entire Ironman outfit... he was in pretty good shape, and had to be at least 45, but, still... the bright-orange shoes could not drag my eyes away from his... package. Dude was an effing elephant. I have to try to draw a picture...

It was... startling. I started laughing... and proceeded to point out to T-Belle that I knew this guy waaaaay better than I ought to... which is to say, biblically. She was repulsed and tried to get me to stop, but I couldn't...

When we were at the starting line, Ironman was positioned not far in front of us. The view from the back was NOT much better:

It must be hard for him to walk. But seriously, don't they make a cup, or something, for that? SERIOUSLY??

Anyway, the race itself was great... wasn't too hot, didn't rain (though there was beautiful lightening in the distance). I finished in 45.38, and though I was initially disappointed, I've decided that 3 15-minute miles is nothing to shake one's finger at. I ran every step. And there were hills, which is weird, because where I live is DECIDEDLY FLAT. I'm so glad I did it, though.

After the race, after I got my swag bag and returned my iPod to the car, there was a party by the pool, at this spa-club-place where the race was held. They had tons of free food - wherein I accidentally ate mayonnaise, NOT OKAY - and beer. Beer. But they wanted me to pay $2.00 for a gatorade. Bastards. I drank free water and ate some pasta, and we left pretty quickly.

Not for nothing, but I was exhausted. This race kicked my behind. Still... 5K In May, check. I did it. I said I would, and I did. I'm quite proud of myself.

T-Belle finished in 38 and change, so impressive. I can't say I am not jealous, but then, she's been working out for a lot longer than I have. I run slowly, I know that I do... but at least I do run.

The shirt was dri-fit and fancy, which makes me happy.

I ran a race. I saw an elephant. I'd call Saturday a win.

Even though I am back on my happy pills, I can only think of one-liners. Nothing interesting at all.

2010-05-14T16:28:00Z

I have an attitude problem. My work is driving me bananas.

I found out yesterday that my boss LIED to someone about FUSSING at me, and it's hard for me to get over that.

I do NOT need to be FUSSED.

There, phew. I am glad that is out of my system.

I'm running a 5K tomorrow.

I smell oil bad, bad, bad today (and yesterday).

The baby gets to do swimming at daycare this summer (he's soooo big now, y'all!).

The big one has One More Week of school left! yay.

My baby cousin is getting married next week, and it will be the first time I've seen the majority of my cousins in, like, eight years. I am STOKED. I like my cousins.

Burp.

I saw the International Space Station and it was cool.

That's all I have. Sorry.

Happy Friday.

Boobies at work!

2010-05-07T15:05:00Z

Ha ha ha, guys, listen. There's this one guy that works with me, a super nice guy, evangelical Christian. It's hard for me to remember that he's a grown up, because he positively reeks of naivite and sweetness. Seriously. He's ALWAYS got a compliment for somebody. Just a nice guy.

But, listen.

This morning, I tried on a shirt T-Belle gave me the other day, in a size smaller than I typically wear. It's a touch snug, but overall, I think it fits. But here's the thing. T-Belle is not as boobalicious as I am, so her shirts are different styles than the normally conservative banker-typical me would usually wear.

Be damned, I thought, I've lost enough weight to pull this off.

I took a picture and sent it off to a few of my dearest friends/fambly. Ginger gave it the thumbs up, and was all, "cuteness, where'd you get that cuteness shirt!!!" Neen responded but I could see no message, so I'm taking that as a yes. Janie, equi-conservative, was kinda, "ummm, it's all right, I guess."

The subject of the message was: "Is this too much boobies for work?"

Don'tAskDon'tTell said, "1) I love that you asked me that. 2) not at all."

Can I mention here how much fun it is to have a gay boyfriend? SO FUN.

Anyway, so I wore it.

Then, there's this guy, the guy at work? Ha ha ha. Just now, he stopped me in the hall.

"I LIKE that shirt!"

Ha ha ha ha ha.

Boobies at work. Funny.