My daughter Kat has a friend named Mandy....actually...she has two and is very lucky that they are part of her life. They both came to my house while we were looking for my parents...and they don't even know them. Anyways Kat has told me numerous times that Mandy B. is very much like me. She says she can imagine that when I was 30 this would have been the way I was...and she is right. Mandy writes poetry...and beautifully. When they were here she told me she would share it with me and I was so touched by this one I had to share the link with you. It was written back in July...who would have ever known how much it would touch my heart in September. I think that is what is so awesome about a good poet, what they write about comes from their souls...yet it touches the souls of all who read. Cool thought huh? I hope you all have a blessed day. My parents are with me for a couple of days while the Meadows, assisted living, prepares for their arrival on Tuesday. Pray I survive my mom....she is very beligerent about why were we searching for her...they knew where they were...they were only gone a few hours...why did I overreact so....and on and on. I honestly cannot wait for tomorrow. She told her doctor yesterday...that I was with them on the road....that my dad got out and slept in the ditch...and I laid down on top of him to keep him warm. My aunt could not believe this new addition to the story...we will probably never know the real version. Selective amnesia is a nice thing...anytime something you experience is too painful to remember...you just close of the curtains and shut it out. Tuesday will get here eventually and Sigh...I will miss yet another day at work. I am beginning to forget what I do for a living. Will there ever be a sense of normalcy in my life again? Click here to go to Mandy's poem "He Speaks in Poetry." he speaks in poetry - The Burbs's MySpace Blog | Southern Strangers
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Monday, September 7, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
BOLO - Be On the Look Out....Silver Alert
What a week I have had. I have to admit...when I tell you this story...you will never believe it. On Tuesday I began to experience every child with aging parents worst nightmare. At 9:00 on Tuesday night I had to call the police to let them know that my parents were missing...and had not been seen since 1:00 when they left their friend Gay off at her house. At first it felt ridiculous...but as time began to pass...I became more frantic. At 11:00 the Alex City Police Dept called to let me know they had been found at their house...and contact had been made....but it was a false alarm. I came home from the drive to Kellyton...empty feeling. I slept an hour on Tuesday night...only to wake up early....staring at the big empty place where they usually park. I went to school early to leave lesson plans...I just knew that they would be found...Kat called me while I was at school and let me know she was on her way....once she got here we left Frank manning the phones and we began scouring the countryside...to no avail. They were nowhere to be found. Weds. afternoon....after several futile attempts to locate them...I called the Dept. of Public Safety and they issued a Media Blitz. One of Kat's friends called Kim Hendrix at WSFA Channel 12 and gave her the story....we sent a picture....and the story aired at 5:30...and again at 10:00. People came and went all day, bringing food, calling, praying, hugging, it was such an emotional day...and there was no news. Weds. night fell and I began realizing that this was probably not going to have a happy ending...but I refused to give up. I got an Alabama map and began to create quadrant maps for the search parties that were going out on Thursday. We came up with 7 maps. The searchers came, got a map, food and water...and began their searches. Kat's friends from Montgomery came and we paired some of them with locals and gave the ones who were not paired with a local detailed search area maps...and they all began. By 12...no one had seen anything...and I was feeling so very sad....at 12:45...my phone rang and Mrs. Leola Lashley told me her son had just been called to go and get their van....the police called and said they had been found! I cannot describe the feelings that rushed through me. Where had they been? For two days they were stuck in a muddy ditch with a blown tire...down a pig trail road that leads to Fox Creek - part of the Tallapoosa River. This is a place where kids go to drink, sell drugs and park....They could have been killed...and in all of our searching....we would never have found them....none of us would have gone down this road. So, we all jumped in Shareefa's car and headed to the hospital. People began pouring into the hospital parking lot...they had been found. They were dehydrated, starving, but ok...and they were a muddy mess. WAKA Channel 8 showed up with a camera and a reporter....and I was so tired. I looked rough on camera. I am tired....so now I must close my eyes and rest...Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have this happen to you? I hope not...it was not fun. I am still feeling strange. They are still in the hospital tonight...they are not going to come home with me...they are being sent to assisted living....now that is another battle for another day....and I am so tired I can hardly hold my eyes open. God is so Good...all the time...isn't he?
Attack of the Tree Aliens!
I trudged into bed at eleven at night. I’m a night owl and would prefer to stay up later, but I knew I’d have to wake up early to get Tommy to school the next day. And so I must force myself to be in bed by eleven because otherwise it’ll be much harder for me to wake up.
When I got to the bedroom, Tom’s massive man leg was stretched out over my side. I sighed and tried to push it away but it wouldn’t budge. In the end I just climbed into bed and shoved it away with my own legs.
“Cut it out!” Tom barked, but he thankfully withdrew his offending leg.
I started to drift off. I was about to sink into a world where there were no such things as calories or Spencer Pratt and then—
CRASH! BOOM!
I sat bolt upright in bed. My husband didn’t even move. How could he have not heard that?
I was close to waking him up and telling him that he had to go check it out. Suppose it was a burglar? But I didn’t have time for him to wake up and throw on some pants since he sleeps in the buff. (I really wish he wouldn’t do this. I’d rather not have his bare ass cheeks pressing against my sheets.)
I took a deep breath and decided that I’d be brave. I grabbed my book that was beside me and figured if it was a burglar, that I could hurl it at his or her head. It was a pretty thick book so it could do some damage. (It was The White Queen by Philippa Gregory if you’re curious.) I cautiously stepped out the bedroom door and craned my ear towards the stairs to see if I could hear anything.
I didn’t. The house was silent and dark. The only noises I could make out were the whirl of the fans.
I slowly descended the stairs, holding the book out in front of me.
But then I saw what made the noise.
This:
Our cat Max must’ve spotted a moth and had jumped up to get it and the whole blind came crashing down.
I’m grateful that Max eats the moths, I really am, because those dang things like attacking me in the face. I screeched when one did it the other day and Tom mocked me for it.
“Oh no! Attack of the moths!” he joked as I ran screaming down the hall.
I’m sorry, but they’re disgusting. I don’t want one inches away from my mouth.
The blind was too high to put back up. I knew Tom would have to do it. I was about to turn and head up to bed but then I saw it.
An alien.
Coming at me!
I knew it! I knew they existed! I was right all along. I was—wait. That’s not an alien.
It’s a tree.
Well. You can see how I’d mistake that for an alien, right? Picture the silhouette of the tree in the dark.
See?
Having the blind down and being able to stare out freaked me out. I ran up to my bed and fell asleep with the cover over my head.
Then the next day I told Tom he’d have to put the blind up.
“Why?” he asked.
Sometimes I don’t get men. What do you mean, WHY? If something falls down, you put it back up. And plus, I didn’t want the scary tree-aliens to peek in on us. Or our neighbors, for that matter. Suppose I decide to walk around the house naked? I mean, I never WOULD but I’d like to be able to make that decision without having to worry about someone gaping at my pale body.
“The trees look like aliens at night,” I explained to Tom, who knows that I get easily spooked.
The hooks for the blinds are way at the top so Tom had to step on my poor stand to get it back up.
“Be careful of my stand!” I warned.
“Be careful of your STAND?” Tom repeated, all insulted. “What about, ‘Be careful dear husband?’”
Oh. Right.
“Be careful dear husband,” I echoed. “But also, please don’t break my stand!”
He managed to get it up, thank goodness.
So whew. No more tree aliens.
When I got to the bedroom, Tom’s massive man leg was stretched out over my side. I sighed and tried to push it away but it wouldn’t budge. In the end I just climbed into bed and shoved it away with my own legs.
“Cut it out!” Tom barked, but he thankfully withdrew his offending leg.
I started to drift off. I was about to sink into a world where there were no such things as calories or Spencer Pratt and then—
CRASH! BOOM!
I sat bolt upright in bed. My husband didn’t even move. How could he have not heard that?
I was close to waking him up and telling him that he had to go check it out. Suppose it was a burglar? But I didn’t have time for him to wake up and throw on some pants since he sleeps in the buff. (I really wish he wouldn’t do this. I’d rather not have his bare ass cheeks pressing against my sheets.)
I took a deep breath and decided that I’d be brave. I grabbed my book that was beside me and figured if it was a burglar, that I could hurl it at his or her head. It was a pretty thick book so it could do some damage. (It was The White Queen by Philippa Gregory if you’re curious.) I cautiously stepped out the bedroom door and craned my ear towards the stairs to see if I could hear anything.
I didn’t. The house was silent and dark. The only noises I could make out were the whirl of the fans.
I slowly descended the stairs, holding the book out in front of me.
But then I saw what made the noise.
This:
Our cat Max must’ve spotted a moth and had jumped up to get it and the whole blind came crashing down.
I’m grateful that Max eats the moths, I really am, because those dang things like attacking me in the face. I screeched when one did it the other day and Tom mocked me for it.
“Oh no! Attack of the moths!” he joked as I ran screaming down the hall.
I’m sorry, but they’re disgusting. I don’t want one inches away from my mouth.
The blind was too high to put back up. I knew Tom would have to do it. I was about to turn and head up to bed but then I saw it.
An alien.
Coming at me!
I knew it! I knew they existed! I was right all along. I was—wait. That’s not an alien.
It’s a tree.
Well. You can see how I’d mistake that for an alien, right? Picture the silhouette of the tree in the dark.
See?
Having the blind down and being able to stare out freaked me out. I ran up to my bed and fell asleep with the cover over my head.
Then the next day I told Tom he’d have to put the blind up.
“Why?” he asked.
Sometimes I don’t get men. What do you mean, WHY? If something falls down, you put it back up. And plus, I didn’t want the scary tree-aliens to peek in on us. Or our neighbors, for that matter. Suppose I decide to walk around the house naked? I mean, I never WOULD but I’d like to be able to make that decision without having to worry about someone gaping at my pale body.
“The trees look like aliens at night,” I explained to Tom, who knows that I get easily spooked.
The hooks for the blinds are way at the top so Tom had to step on my poor stand to get it back up.
“Be careful of my stand!” I warned.
“Be careful of your STAND?” Tom repeated, all insulted. “What about, ‘Be careful dear husband?’”
Oh. Right.
“Be careful dear husband,” I echoed. “But also, please don’t break my stand!”
He managed to get it up, thank goodness.
So whew. No more tree aliens.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
A Gymboree Fashion Show
I parked the car and my heart thumped with excitement. I could feel my hands start to tingle with anticipation as I stepped out of the vehicle. I sucked in a deep breath of air and grinned as though I had an important secret to keep. I headed for the trunk and pulled out the stroller for my daughter Natalie, who was watching me from her cow print car seat. When I pulled open her door I went, “Are you going to sit in your stroller like a big girl?”
She nodded, her brown curls bouncing against her neck. I knew she was fibbing, God bless her. She’ll sit in her stroller for all of five minutes and then climb out. “All done!” she’ll say cheerfully, as though she had just accomplished a big favor for me. I’ll attempt to get her to sit back down but she’ll go stiff on me, refusing to bend her legs.
“Seriously,” I told Natalie gravely as I put her in the stroller. “You need to sit.”
“Okay Mommy,” she said sweetly even though we both knew she was lying through her teeth.
We walked into the mall and passed the boring stores that mean nothing to me. I used to like Spencer’s Gifts until they started filling it with all sorts of Twilight crap. I’d rather not have Edward’s creepy eyes following me as I giggle at the edible penis pasta, you know?
Natalie and I continued to blaze past the stores that didn’t interest us and then suddenly, there it was in its beige glory. A big smile formed on my face as my heart started to quicken again. I started to wonder if this was how Columbus felt when he discovered America—I mean, the poor guy was surrounded by water for months on end and then, oh my gosh, LAND!
Okay, so the two aren’t quite the same thing. But still. Whenever I see Gymboree I can’t help but feel ecstatic. My hands gripped the handle bar of the stroller and I headed determinedly towards the store. As I was approaching, a woman walked out with two bags stuffed with clothes and this was when my heart dropped.
She took everything! What if she’s taken all of Natalie’s sizes? What if she’s taken everything I wanted?
The thoughts swirled through my head and I craned my neck to try and see what she had in those bags as she clomped by. She clomped because she had on a pair of high heels that looked dangerous to walk in. She had on a smart pencil skirt with a button up blouse and her hair was twisted up in a neat bun on the top of her head. When I saw her, I immediately thought that she had to be a lawyer.
So, did the lawyer take all the clothes I wanted?
Could I SUE her for that?
When I walked into Gymboree my favorite worker was there. She gave me a wide grin, probably because she knows that I’m a great shopper. I’m not one of those annoying customers who ask a billion questions because by the time I get into the store, I basically know what I want. I know the clothing lines by name and I know exactly where Natalie’s section is.
“I take it you’re here for the Baby Sale,” the worker said knowingly.
I nodded. “Of course.” I always show up for the sales. The Baby Sale, in case you weren’t aware, means that all the items have $10 and $20 pricemarks. Plus, you can use a 20% off coupon which makes them $8 and $16. And if you have a Gymboree Visa (which I do for obvious reasons) you can save another 5%.
“Do you need help with anything?” the worker inquired as I spotted the dress I wanted.
“No. I think I’m set,” I replied and then started pushing the dress along the rack for Natalie’s size.
Did the lawyer take the size 2T?
At first I thought she had because I couldn’t find it. But then there it was, in the very back. I pulled it down and gazed at it lovingly.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” I cooed to Natalie.
Who was no longer in the stroller.
My poor heart, it was obviously abused that day because now it wasn’t thumping with excitement but now it was thumping with panic. My eyes scanned the store—it’s not that big—and then I found Natalie pressing her face against the ceiling to floor glass window.
“Natalie!” I admonished, rushing over, “We don’t do that! There are germs. Do you want to get the swine flu?”
Natalie giggled. “Yes!”
I scooped her up. “No you don’t want to get the swine flu,” I corrected, and carried her back to the stroller.
Of course she turned stiff on me. No matter how hard I tried to get her to sit, her legs refused to bend. Natalie just grinned up at me as I tried to set her back down as if to say, “You can try all you want, woman. I’m not sitting.”
I eventually gave up and placed her on my hip. But then she started reaching for a bunch of different clothes.
“No, Natalie,” I lectured. “You can’t touch.”
“EEEEEEEEE!” she went, right into my ear which immediately started to ring.
I set her down beside me. “Do you want to play with my cell phone?” I asked, digging it out of my purse. I handed it over.
Natalie turned it around her palm for a few seconds and then opened it. “Heddo?” she said into the receiver. “Heddo?”
I started to gather the other clothes I knew I wanted. This isn’t as easy as it sounds. Of course I had a list of things I knew I wanted to get in my mind. But then when you see OTHER clothes you start to long for those too. But then you remind yourself, no, you have a budget, you can’t get the adorable polka dot boots and the brown tutu....
It can give you quite a headache, really.
“All done, Mommy,” Natalie said, sticking the phone back into my purse. And then she started walking off.
“Natalie. You have to stay by Mommy,” I said firmly, trying to take her by the hand. She immediately yanked her hand from mine and shouted, “NO!” and stomped off into the boy section. She crossed her arms around her tiny chest and stuck her tongue at me.
Shopping with a two-year-old is almost as bad as shopping with a man.
I went over to her and squatted down to her level. “You may not behave like this. I understand that you’re bored and you’re welcome to watch the TV,” I said, pointing to the television that Gymboree has set up. The singing vegetables were on again. Vegetales which sort of creeps me out because I don’t want broccoli singing at me. Then again, the other shows Natalie watches aren’t exactly the picture of sane either.
Natalie thankfully decided to watch the television.
“A tomato!” she said cheerfully as she sat down in front of a tomato who was singing about...gee, I don’t know, being happy? I wasn’t paying attention.
It took me awhile to figure out if I wanted to buy the adorable brown tutu. I kept twirling it around in my hand and sighing at it. Tutus really aren’t practical but they look adorable on a little kid. But...Natalie already has a purple and pink tutu. I reminded myself of this as I stared wistfully at it and wished that I had a rich family member who would volunteer to buy whatever clothes I wanted.
I put the tutu back and realized that I better get going. Natalie was turning on the singing produce and I can tell from her expression that I had less than two minutes before she went running off. So I placed all the clothes on the counter and chit chatted with my favorite worker as she rang me up.
“Weeeeeee!” Natalie shrieked, racing past me as I paid. She stood at the entrance of the store. “Hi! Hi peoples!” she said, waving.
“She can be our greeter,” the store worker said.
Can she get paid in clothes? I wanted to ask.
When the worker handed me the orange yarn handles of the bag of clothes I felt a sense of satisfaction as I took hold of it. I couldn’t wait to try them on Natalie.
This is what I got:
The boots are not Gymboree. I got them from Target last year for 75% off.
I asked her to smile for the camera and she's like, "I just did, lady."
Then I put the pumpkin hat on her. I bought this last year on sale.
I asked if she wanted a sandwich for lunch and this was the look she gave me. A simple "no thanks" would have sufficed.
She's all, "Hi. My Mom is nutso!"
I just love love LOVE this dress. Oh, and if people are all, "Oh gosh, she probably spent a fortune on all of this!" just know that everything was $100 and I totally used the money I made from eBay from selling last year's clothes.
I asked if she wanted a chicken patty for lunch. She was thinking about it.
Natalie was all, "Circles on dress!"
On went the hat. I LOVE hats on kids. Sometimes Natalie just rips them off and I'm all, "No no darling, it's part of the ensemble." I think she's starting to comprehend this...
So run to Gymboree and tell them the crazy blog lady WhisperingWriter sent you!
She nodded, her brown curls bouncing against her neck. I knew she was fibbing, God bless her. She’ll sit in her stroller for all of five minutes and then climb out. “All done!” she’ll say cheerfully, as though she had just accomplished a big favor for me. I’ll attempt to get her to sit back down but she’ll go stiff on me, refusing to bend her legs.
“Seriously,” I told Natalie gravely as I put her in the stroller. “You need to sit.”
“Okay Mommy,” she said sweetly even though we both knew she was lying through her teeth.
We walked into the mall and passed the boring stores that mean nothing to me. I used to like Spencer’s Gifts until they started filling it with all sorts of Twilight crap. I’d rather not have Edward’s creepy eyes following me as I giggle at the edible penis pasta, you know?
Natalie and I continued to blaze past the stores that didn’t interest us and then suddenly, there it was in its beige glory. A big smile formed on my face as my heart started to quicken again. I started to wonder if this was how Columbus felt when he discovered America—I mean, the poor guy was surrounded by water for months on end and then, oh my gosh, LAND!
Okay, so the two aren’t quite the same thing. But still. Whenever I see Gymboree I can’t help but feel ecstatic. My hands gripped the handle bar of the stroller and I headed determinedly towards the store. As I was approaching, a woman walked out with two bags stuffed with clothes and this was when my heart dropped.
She took everything! What if she’s taken all of Natalie’s sizes? What if she’s taken everything I wanted?
The thoughts swirled through my head and I craned my neck to try and see what she had in those bags as she clomped by. She clomped because she had on a pair of high heels that looked dangerous to walk in. She had on a smart pencil skirt with a button up blouse and her hair was twisted up in a neat bun on the top of her head. When I saw her, I immediately thought that she had to be a lawyer.
So, did the lawyer take all the clothes I wanted?
Could I SUE her for that?
When I walked into Gymboree my favorite worker was there. She gave me a wide grin, probably because she knows that I’m a great shopper. I’m not one of those annoying customers who ask a billion questions because by the time I get into the store, I basically know what I want. I know the clothing lines by name and I know exactly where Natalie’s section is.
“I take it you’re here for the Baby Sale,” the worker said knowingly.
I nodded. “Of course.” I always show up for the sales. The Baby Sale, in case you weren’t aware, means that all the items have $10 and $20 pricemarks. Plus, you can use a 20% off coupon which makes them $8 and $16. And if you have a Gymboree Visa (which I do for obvious reasons) you can save another 5%.
“Do you need help with anything?” the worker inquired as I spotted the dress I wanted.
“No. I think I’m set,” I replied and then started pushing the dress along the rack for Natalie’s size.
Did the lawyer take the size 2T?
At first I thought she had because I couldn’t find it. But then there it was, in the very back. I pulled it down and gazed at it lovingly.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” I cooed to Natalie.
Who was no longer in the stroller.
My poor heart, it was obviously abused that day because now it wasn’t thumping with excitement but now it was thumping with panic. My eyes scanned the store—it’s not that big—and then I found Natalie pressing her face against the ceiling to floor glass window.
“Natalie!” I admonished, rushing over, “We don’t do that! There are germs. Do you want to get the swine flu?”
Natalie giggled. “Yes!”
I scooped her up. “No you don’t want to get the swine flu,” I corrected, and carried her back to the stroller.
Of course she turned stiff on me. No matter how hard I tried to get her to sit, her legs refused to bend. Natalie just grinned up at me as I tried to set her back down as if to say, “You can try all you want, woman. I’m not sitting.”
I eventually gave up and placed her on my hip. But then she started reaching for a bunch of different clothes.
“No, Natalie,” I lectured. “You can’t touch.”
“EEEEEEEEE!” she went, right into my ear which immediately started to ring.
I set her down beside me. “Do you want to play with my cell phone?” I asked, digging it out of my purse. I handed it over.
Natalie turned it around her palm for a few seconds and then opened it. “Heddo?” she said into the receiver. “Heddo?”
I started to gather the other clothes I knew I wanted. This isn’t as easy as it sounds. Of course I had a list of things I knew I wanted to get in my mind. But then when you see OTHER clothes you start to long for those too. But then you remind yourself, no, you have a budget, you can’t get the adorable polka dot boots and the brown tutu....
It can give you quite a headache, really.
“All done, Mommy,” Natalie said, sticking the phone back into my purse. And then she started walking off.
“Natalie. You have to stay by Mommy,” I said firmly, trying to take her by the hand. She immediately yanked her hand from mine and shouted, “NO!” and stomped off into the boy section. She crossed her arms around her tiny chest and stuck her tongue at me.
Shopping with a two-year-old is almost as bad as shopping with a man.
I went over to her and squatted down to her level. “You may not behave like this. I understand that you’re bored and you’re welcome to watch the TV,” I said, pointing to the television that Gymboree has set up. The singing vegetables were on again. Vegetales which sort of creeps me out because I don’t want broccoli singing at me. Then again, the other shows Natalie watches aren’t exactly the picture of sane either.
Natalie thankfully decided to watch the television.
“A tomato!” she said cheerfully as she sat down in front of a tomato who was singing about...gee, I don’t know, being happy? I wasn’t paying attention.
It took me awhile to figure out if I wanted to buy the adorable brown tutu. I kept twirling it around in my hand and sighing at it. Tutus really aren’t practical but they look adorable on a little kid. But...Natalie already has a purple and pink tutu. I reminded myself of this as I stared wistfully at it and wished that I had a rich family member who would volunteer to buy whatever clothes I wanted.
I put the tutu back and realized that I better get going. Natalie was turning on the singing produce and I can tell from her expression that I had less than two minutes before she went running off. So I placed all the clothes on the counter and chit chatted with my favorite worker as she rang me up.
“Weeeeeee!” Natalie shrieked, racing past me as I paid. She stood at the entrance of the store. “Hi! Hi peoples!” she said, waving.
“She can be our greeter,” the store worker said.
Can she get paid in clothes? I wanted to ask.
When the worker handed me the orange yarn handles of the bag of clothes I felt a sense of satisfaction as I took hold of it. I couldn’t wait to try them on Natalie.
This is what I got:
The boots are not Gymboree. I got them from Target last year for 75% off.
I asked her to smile for the camera and she's like, "I just did, lady."
Then I put the pumpkin hat on her. I bought this last year on sale.
I asked if she wanted a sandwich for lunch and this was the look she gave me. A simple "no thanks" would have sufficed.
She's all, "Hi. My Mom is nutso!"
I just love love LOVE this dress. Oh, and if people are all, "Oh gosh, she probably spent a fortune on all of this!" just know that everything was $100 and I totally used the money I made from eBay from selling last year's clothes.
I asked if she wanted a chicken patty for lunch. She was thinking about it.
Natalie was all, "Circles on dress!"
On went the hat. I LOVE hats on kids. Sometimes Natalie just rips them off and I'm all, "No no darling, it's part of the ensemble." I think she's starting to comprehend this...
So run to Gymboree and tell them the crazy blog lady WhisperingWriter sent you!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
A New Schedule
I came downstairs this morning and there he was. All stretched out on the couch and watching a television program about Mussolini. Who wants to watch a program about Mussolini first thing in the morning?
“Tom,” I croaked, because my voice was still asleep. “I usually watch The Today Show when I wake up.”
Tom gestured to the TV. “I’m watching this.”
I shut my eyes briefly and then opened them. “I see that but I watch The Today Show in the morning. I’m interested to see if they have any new details on that poor girl who was kidnapped for 18 years.”
“You snooze, you lose!” Tom said cheerfully which basically means he has no heart because hello, where was his concern for the kidnapped girl??
Okay, so technically he got to the TV first fair and square. But still. I watch The Today Show in the morning. He knows this.
“When do you go to work again?” I asked with a nasty edge to my voice.
Because guess what? Tom is working a regular schedule now. It’s a foreign concept to me. Nearly our entire marriage, he worked a schedule of three days on, two days off, two days on, three days off. But then he went and cross trained to be a K-9 Handler and they are finally giving him a dog to work with. This means that he’s currently in training on how they handle things on this base which means that he works from Monday thru Friday from 8-5.
It’s weird.
I’m used to having him gone when I wake up.
Suddenly he’s here.
I’m used to having him gone during lunch time.
Suddenly he’s here.
He gets an hour lunch break and comes home and sort of seems baffled on what to eat.
“I don’t make a deal big about lunch, Tom,” I’ve explained to him. “Sometimes I just have cereal.”
“CEREAL?” he spit out the word as though it were dirty.
I think he honestly believes that I’m going to prepare a lunch. Me? The woman who doesn’t even like preparing dinner. Why in the world would I cook another meal?
“Well, most wives would,” Tom pouted starting his ‘most wives’ game that he likes to play. It’s annoying, really.
“Tom, we’ve already established that I’m not like most wives. So move on,” I said bluntly. This is true. I’m never going to be a wife that washes his uniforms. He has hands to do it. I already wash his underwear and that’s a chore in itself. I’m never going to cook him an elaborate lunch. Oh, I’ll be glad to stick a frozen meal in the microwave for him but that’s about it.
And also, when he comes home from lunch, am I meant to converse with him? Usually I’m darting around the house, cleaning stuff or hopping online. Do I have to stop and talk? When he first came home on Monday I perched myself on the couch.
“Er, so, how was your day?” I felt obliged to ask even though I usually inquire about this when he comes home for good in the evening.
“It’s going fine. I met the dog that I’ll be working with,” Tom answered.
A pause.
“Well, okay, I’m going on the computer,” I said and headed over.
“Don’t you want to talk?” Tom wondered.
Oh. Well. Not really. But I went back over anyway.
Then Tom reached over and switched the television channel to cartoons.
“I don’t watch cartoons,” I said, trying to grab the remote back. I mean, hello? Who wants to sit around watching The Penguins of Madagascar?
“This show is hilarious,” Tom assured me.
“I watch Inside Edition,” I fumed.
But Tom was already enthralled in the show. So I got up and started walking away.
“Don’t you want to talk?” he called out.
“No. You’re watching cartoons,” I replied. “I’ll talk to you when you get home from work. Like I usually do.”
“But I’m home right now!” Tom argued.
For heavens sake! At that point Natalie was down for her nap which meant that it was QUIET TIME. It meant no talking. I like to do my chores and enjoy the silence and relish in the fact that I don’t have a kid wanted to “help” which means that the chore takes twice as long. Then I usually go on the computer or read my book.
“We’ll talk later, I promise,” I told Tom and started to do the dishes.
It’s just weird having him around so often. And now he’ll be home every weekend. I’m used to him working every other weekend. He’s going to be expecting lunch even though I usually just make Cinnamon Buns for Sunday lunch. But when I mentioned this to Tom he made a face and went, “Cinnamon Buns aren’t lunch!”
Yes they are! They certainly can be lunch. There are no set rules for lunch!
I love him very much, I do, but I’m just used to my schedule, you know?
And I am so tired of having cartoons on the TV. And if it’s not cartoons, it’s the dreaded Military Channel where I have to sit and watch an entire show about tanks. TANKS! It’s just as boring as it sounds. He claims that The Today Show is boring but at least that show is informative. I mean, today I learned all about how people are starting to raise chickens in their backyard. It was fascinating. Okay, not really, but it WAS more interesting than learning about a Sherman Tank at least....
“Tom,” I croaked, because my voice was still asleep. “I usually watch The Today Show when I wake up.”
Tom gestured to the TV. “I’m watching this.”
I shut my eyes briefly and then opened them. “I see that but I watch The Today Show in the morning. I’m interested to see if they have any new details on that poor girl who was kidnapped for 18 years.”
“You snooze, you lose!” Tom said cheerfully which basically means he has no heart because hello, where was his concern for the kidnapped girl??
Okay, so technically he got to the TV first fair and square. But still. I watch The Today Show in the morning. He knows this.
“When do you go to work again?” I asked with a nasty edge to my voice.
Because guess what? Tom is working a regular schedule now. It’s a foreign concept to me. Nearly our entire marriage, he worked a schedule of three days on, two days off, two days on, three days off. But then he went and cross trained to be a K-9 Handler and they are finally giving him a dog to work with. This means that he’s currently in training on how they handle things on this base which means that he works from Monday thru Friday from 8-5.
It’s weird.
I’m used to having him gone when I wake up.
Suddenly he’s here.
I’m used to having him gone during lunch time.
Suddenly he’s here.
He gets an hour lunch break and comes home and sort of seems baffled on what to eat.
“I don’t make a deal big about lunch, Tom,” I’ve explained to him. “Sometimes I just have cereal.”
“CEREAL?” he spit out the word as though it were dirty.
I think he honestly believes that I’m going to prepare a lunch. Me? The woman who doesn’t even like preparing dinner. Why in the world would I cook another meal?
“Well, most wives would,” Tom pouted starting his ‘most wives’ game that he likes to play. It’s annoying, really.
“Tom, we’ve already established that I’m not like most wives. So move on,” I said bluntly. This is true. I’m never going to be a wife that washes his uniforms. He has hands to do it. I already wash his underwear and that’s a chore in itself. I’m never going to cook him an elaborate lunch. Oh, I’ll be glad to stick a frozen meal in the microwave for him but that’s about it.
And also, when he comes home from lunch, am I meant to converse with him? Usually I’m darting around the house, cleaning stuff or hopping online. Do I have to stop and talk? When he first came home on Monday I perched myself on the couch.
“Er, so, how was your day?” I felt obliged to ask even though I usually inquire about this when he comes home for good in the evening.
“It’s going fine. I met the dog that I’ll be working with,” Tom answered.
A pause.
“Well, okay, I’m going on the computer,” I said and headed over.
“Don’t you want to talk?” Tom wondered.
Oh. Well. Not really. But I went back over anyway.
Then Tom reached over and switched the television channel to cartoons.
“I don’t watch cartoons,” I said, trying to grab the remote back. I mean, hello? Who wants to sit around watching The Penguins of Madagascar?
“This show is hilarious,” Tom assured me.
“I watch Inside Edition,” I fumed.
But Tom was already enthralled in the show. So I got up and started walking away.
“Don’t you want to talk?” he called out.
“No. You’re watching cartoons,” I replied. “I’ll talk to you when you get home from work. Like I usually do.”
“But I’m home right now!” Tom argued.
For heavens sake! At that point Natalie was down for her nap which meant that it was QUIET TIME. It meant no talking. I like to do my chores and enjoy the silence and relish in the fact that I don’t have a kid wanted to “help” which means that the chore takes twice as long. Then I usually go on the computer or read my book.
“We’ll talk later, I promise,” I told Tom and started to do the dishes.
It’s just weird having him around so often. And now he’ll be home every weekend. I’m used to him working every other weekend. He’s going to be expecting lunch even though I usually just make Cinnamon Buns for Sunday lunch. But when I mentioned this to Tom he made a face and went, “Cinnamon Buns aren’t lunch!”
Yes they are! They certainly can be lunch. There are no set rules for lunch!
I love him very much, I do, but I’m just used to my schedule, you know?
And I am so tired of having cartoons on the TV. And if it’s not cartoons, it’s the dreaded Military Channel where I have to sit and watch an entire show about tanks. TANKS! It’s just as boring as it sounds. He claims that The Today Show is boring but at least that show is informative. I mean, today I learned all about how people are starting to raise chickens in their backyard. It was fascinating. Okay, not really, but it WAS more interesting than learning about a Sherman Tank at least....
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Modge Podge Mania With Xazmin's Style
Ok...I have had a couple of really crappy days...and I am tired of being down...I have a cold and don't feel the greatest...but by Jimmies I am going to be cheerful today if it kills me...and it may just do that. But then....Our of the Blue...I found a cheerful thing. It was a new project my friend Xazmin shared that gave me a new lease of life. I don't know about any of you guys...but several years ago I discovered Modge Podge and went wild. Everything I had was Modge Podged. I loved the stuff...an easy craft for someone who was not so crafty. My friend Xazmin over at This is the Year has done an awesome project and I want to tell you about it....actually I am going to let her tell you in her own words. I was so excited about it I asked her if I could post it on my blog and she said YES!!!! I know once you see it and see how easy it is you will want to do it too. If you want to know more click on the link I provided at the beginning of the post and go see what all she has done. She is awfully talented...and this is her blog item for yesterday. "Well, summer is winding down. Are you sad? Or are you excited like me? I love summer, but now is about the time I'm ready for the season to change. I LOVE fall, I love the smell, and the colors, and the cooler temperatures. Most of all I love the anticipation of the upcoming Holiday Season. I'm itchin' to start decorating for fall...how 'bout you? I'm especially excited to "Halloween-ify" my home! So for this month's Mod Podge Project, I decided to do a Halloween version of the Mod Podge blocks you may have seen in our very first edition of Mod Podge Mania.I found this adorable Halloween paper at Michaels, and I'm so pleased with how they turned out!
I love how the little skeletons seem to be peeking out between the letters!
All I did was spray paint some 2x4 scraps, then Mod Podge my paper on. Using Mod Podge on the wood to adhere the paper, then another couple of coats over the top.
When the Mod Podge dried, I distressed the edges on the sander. I also took a tip from my way more talented than me friend Tanielle, and rubbed some brown paint on the roughed up edges. I spray painted and slightly distressed the wooden letters, then glued them on! Finish off with a couple of coats of clear acrylic spray and tie on some coordinating tulle. This is such a simple, fool-proof project and they turn out so cute every time! Now let's see what you've got! Please remember to link back to my blog in your post so that everyone will know where to come see everyone's projects! You may link up an old post or a new one. But if you link up an old one, it would be helpful if you just put a little blurb as a new entry on your blog linking back to your older post so your regular readers will know where to come check out more ideas! Does that make sense? I can't wait to see what you've all come up with this month!"
I, Karen again, hope you will go to your local craft store after seeing this cool project and pick up some paint brushes and modge podge and go to town. I have also used cute little napkins...and modge podged them on glass plate backs and baskets and loved the result. Happy Crafting.
I love how the little skeletons seem to be peeking out between the letters!
All I did was spray paint some 2x4 scraps, then Mod Podge my paper on. Using Mod Podge on the wood to adhere the paper, then another couple of coats over the top.
When the Mod Podge dried, I distressed the edges on the sander. I also took a tip from my way more talented than me friend Tanielle, and rubbed some brown paint on the roughed up edges. I spray painted and slightly distressed the wooden letters, then glued them on! Finish off with a couple of coats of clear acrylic spray and tie on some coordinating tulle. This is such a simple, fool-proof project and they turn out so cute every time! Now let's see what you've got! Please remember to link back to my blog in your post so that everyone will know where to come see everyone's projects! You may link up an old post or a new one. But if you link up an old one, it would be helpful if you just put a little blurb as a new entry on your blog linking back to your older post so your regular readers will know where to come check out more ideas! Does that make sense? I can't wait to see what you've all come up with this month!"
I, Karen again, hope you will go to your local craft store after seeing this cool project and pick up some paint brushes and modge podge and go to town. I have also used cute little napkins...and modge podged them on glass plate backs and baskets and loved the result. Happy Crafting.
The Stinky Husband
I was about to sink down on the couch and enjoy a rousing episode of Big Brother.
But then my husband Tom stuck his face at the screen part of the front door and shouted my name.
He scared me. Usually when he comes home from work he just walks through the door. I jumped three feet in the air and yelled, “What are you doing? Get in here!” I mean, he was just standing outside.
“Did you take a good look at me?” Tom asked, gesturing to himself.
Oh lord. If this was a sexual thing I didn’t have the patience for it. I just wanted to watch my show. That’s all.
But still, I headed over out of sheer curiosity.
And this is when I smelled it.
And saw it.
I realized Tom was drenched and he reeked like a rotten hot dog. I could see the stains from ketchup and mustard against his uniform and what looked like remnants of mayonnaise in his hair.
“What the HELL?” I boomed, gripping the door handle. There was no way he was coming inside looking (and smelling) like that.
“It was my last day on flight,” Tom reminded me with a shrug. “On your last day, you get pummeled.”
Ew. Ew. Ew.
“You reek! I can smell you through the door,” I said, pinching my nose.
Tom just looked pleased with himself. “Oh, that’s probably the sauerkraut.”
SAUERKRAUT!
Okay. Tom was NEVER coming inside.
“Why did you let them do that to you?” I demanded. I mean, couldn’t he have said no thanks, I’d rather not have sauerkraut and relish rubbed on me? I would have. And if they had insisted on throwing things at me I’d scream, “LAWSUIT! LAWWWWSUIT!” at the top of my lungs.
“It doesn’t bother me,” Tom said nonchalantly. “Everyone goes through it. If you don’t, you’re a loser.”
I sighed. “Then be a loser! Who cares?” Seriously. No one will ever toss condiments on me without a fight.
Tom just grinned. “It doesn’t bother me,” he repeated.
“It’ll bother you when you learn that you’re sleeping outside!” I shrieked as the theme song for my show began on the TV. Crap. I was missing it because my husband decided to bathe in ketchup. Fantastic.
“I’m going to hose myself off,” Tom assured me. “Could you just take my beret inside? Don’t worry, it didn’t get messy,” he added when he saw me wince.
I cautiously opened the door as though I were worried that Tom would suddenly gather me into his arms and force me to breathe in his disgusting wet dog scent. The blast of all the ketchup, and mustard, and relish, and sauerkraut hit my nostrils and I nearly gagged. It was awful.
I grabbed Tom’s beret and hurried away. Then I grabbed a bottle of Febreze and rushed back outside, holding my breath.
“What are you DOING?” Tom yelled as I sprayed him with the lovely lavender smell.
“Trying to mask your scent!” I shouted.
“That’s why I’m HOSING MYSELF OFF!” Tom bellowed as the Febreze rained down on him.
“Not good enough!” I sang cheerfully as I sprayed and sprayed and sprayed.
I imagine we looked amusing standing out there in the front lawn. Tom was trying to hose himself off and trying to get away from the Febreze at the same time. So it was some strange song and dance we were doing with Tom darted to and fro, and me trying to keep up with him and Tom shrieking at me to CUT IT OUT, CUT IT OUT, THE HOSE WOULD TAKE CARE OF IT!
One of our neighbors walked past with his dog and gave us a startled look.
“Hi,” I said as I continued to spritz my husband. “Lovely night, isn’t it?”
I eventually allowed Tom in the house after I felt he was clean enough.
“I smell like a girl now, thanks,” he grumbled as he headed for the shower.
“No problem!” I chirped sweetly and gave him one last Febreze spray for good measure.
But then my husband Tom stuck his face at the screen part of the front door and shouted my name.
He scared me. Usually when he comes home from work he just walks through the door. I jumped three feet in the air and yelled, “What are you doing? Get in here!” I mean, he was just standing outside.
“Did you take a good look at me?” Tom asked, gesturing to himself.
Oh lord. If this was a sexual thing I didn’t have the patience for it. I just wanted to watch my show. That’s all.
But still, I headed over out of sheer curiosity.
And this is when I smelled it.
And saw it.
I realized Tom was drenched and he reeked like a rotten hot dog. I could see the stains from ketchup and mustard against his uniform and what looked like remnants of mayonnaise in his hair.
“What the HELL?” I boomed, gripping the door handle. There was no way he was coming inside looking (and smelling) like that.
“It was my last day on flight,” Tom reminded me with a shrug. “On your last day, you get pummeled.”
Ew. Ew. Ew.
“You reek! I can smell you through the door,” I said, pinching my nose.
Tom just looked pleased with himself. “Oh, that’s probably the sauerkraut.”
SAUERKRAUT!
Okay. Tom was NEVER coming inside.
“Why did you let them do that to you?” I demanded. I mean, couldn’t he have said no thanks, I’d rather not have sauerkraut and relish rubbed on me? I would have. And if they had insisted on throwing things at me I’d scream, “LAWSUIT! LAWWWWSUIT!” at the top of my lungs.
“It doesn’t bother me,” Tom said nonchalantly. “Everyone goes through it. If you don’t, you’re a loser.”
I sighed. “Then be a loser! Who cares?” Seriously. No one will ever toss condiments on me without a fight.
Tom just grinned. “It doesn’t bother me,” he repeated.
“It’ll bother you when you learn that you’re sleeping outside!” I shrieked as the theme song for my show began on the TV. Crap. I was missing it because my husband decided to bathe in ketchup. Fantastic.
“I’m going to hose myself off,” Tom assured me. “Could you just take my beret inside? Don’t worry, it didn’t get messy,” he added when he saw me wince.
I cautiously opened the door as though I were worried that Tom would suddenly gather me into his arms and force me to breathe in his disgusting wet dog scent. The blast of all the ketchup, and mustard, and relish, and sauerkraut hit my nostrils and I nearly gagged. It was awful.
I grabbed Tom’s beret and hurried away. Then I grabbed a bottle of Febreze and rushed back outside, holding my breath.
“What are you DOING?” Tom yelled as I sprayed him with the lovely lavender smell.
“Trying to mask your scent!” I shouted.
“That’s why I’m HOSING MYSELF OFF!” Tom bellowed as the Febreze rained down on him.
“Not good enough!” I sang cheerfully as I sprayed and sprayed and sprayed.
I imagine we looked amusing standing out there in the front lawn. Tom was trying to hose himself off and trying to get away from the Febreze at the same time. So it was some strange song and dance we were doing with Tom darted to and fro, and me trying to keep up with him and Tom shrieking at me to CUT IT OUT, CUT IT OUT, THE HOSE WOULD TAKE CARE OF IT!
One of our neighbors walked past with his dog and gave us a startled look.
“Hi,” I said as I continued to spritz my husband. “Lovely night, isn’t it?”
I eventually allowed Tom in the house after I felt he was clean enough.
“I smell like a girl now, thanks,” he grumbled as he headed for the shower.
“No problem!” I chirped sweetly and gave him one last Febreze spray for good measure.
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