Last one, I promise. The potty shot. It really is just about the biggest room in the house. So peach.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
From the Potty
Last one, I promise. The potty shot. It really is just about the biggest room in the house. So peach.
Bath Two
Elle, I really want to do something cool with the christening gowns (I hung them up so you can see them) and I promise I am going to put the bouncy chair away.... soon.
Bathroom
This is for Elle... my email is DOA so here are the bathroom pics.... in all the, um, peachness.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Tall Girl Pants
Why do “tall” pants have an inseam of 32”? That’s not tall. Most days I am just thankful capris are in style.
I’m not even particularly tall (5’9”) but I have freakishly long legs. To avoid showing the argyle pattern on my nerd socks I require a 36” inseam…. 38” if I actually want to wear boots or heels.
I have found one decent source of affordable tall girl jeans. TwentyX. It is a division of Wrangler’s but the jeans tend to be a bit more fashionable than the usual working cowboy pants that Wrangler produces.
Who would have thought? Wrangler: It’s not just for rednecks anymore.
I’m not even particularly tall (5’9”) but I have freakishly long legs. To avoid showing the argyle pattern on my nerd socks I require a 36” inseam…. 38” if I actually want to wear boots or heels.
I have found one decent source of affordable tall girl jeans. TwentyX. It is a division of Wrangler’s but the jeans tend to be a bit more fashionable than the usual working cowboy pants that Wrangler produces.
Who would have thought? Wrangler: It’s not just for rednecks anymore.
So I used to have a nice tight……
writing style. What happened? I started to blog thinking I had some funny things to share with the world…. And my writing style & sense of humor went to shit. It could be that I am distracted….. It could be that I was never a very good writer or very funny to begin with…. It could be lack of focus (but that would be very similar to distracted, wouldn’t it??) It could be that I am lazy….. So let me end this post the same way I’ve ended so many posts… by just letting the thought die and not coming to any real conclusions……
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
True Confessions –Husband-style
1. My hunny & I were set up on a blind date by our friends. They tricked us.
2. I kissed him first. Three fast little kisses.
3. After our first “date” he ran away as fast as he could. He literally jumped out of my pickup getting away from me.
4. He is most comfortable in the woods.
5. On our second date we went to dinner and the restaurant forgot to put chicken on my salad… this began a series of misadventures involving restaurants, me & chicken… until I decided I don’t really like chicken all that much and quit ordering it.
6. On our third date, I made him lasagna. He told me what we would name our son and what his nickname would be. He still loves my lasagna and that is, indeed, what we named our son.
7. We make lasagna every Valentine’s Day… except last year when we went “out” and then swore we would never do that again…. The service was slow and the food was average… but it was still fun to spend time together.
8. He hates monkeys.
9. On our fourth date I met his parents.
10. I said “I love you” first.
11. His friends said we would get married long before we were even, um, intimate.
12. His friends were right.
13. He is really good at grammar and writing.
14. He sends me flowers at work.
15. His favorite author is Ivan Doig.
16. For our first anniversary he surprised me with dinner and a night in the honeymoon suite at a local hotel. He brought our wedding cake and champagne and my honeymoon nightie. He even remembered clothes and a ponytail holder for me for the next day.
17. Whenever we went to the farm (before we were married) my mom made him sleep in the basement on the dog’s couch next to the gun cabinet with all the scary guns in it.
18. He looks forward to my sister bringing home a boyfriend to sleep in the basement.
19. He is the first guy I ever took home to meet my parents.
20. He is the classic definition of “still water runs deep.”
21. He is ridiculously smart.
22. On our second anniversary I went in labor at 1:30 in the morning…. We had to cancel our dinner reservations. Our son was born at 6:58 am on our anniversary.
23. He is an amazing lover.
24. He has no idea that he is an amazing lover… even though I tell him all the time.
25. He gave up chewing on his 30th birthday and it was the hardest thing he has ever done.
26. He cuts his own hair.
27. I have stuck with him through gi-scans, cataract surgery, shin splints, a separated shoulder and physical therapy.
28. He put up with me through labor… we are both thankful it was quick.
29. He loves to fly fish.
30. His ideal day would include hiking to a secluded spot with me & his son, finding a giant elk antler, fly-fishing for fat trout, eating a picnic lunch, drinking a beer, reading a book under a shady tree and not seeing another person all day.
31. His favorite color is green.
32. He loves baseball caps…. But only if they are shaped correctly.
33. He is sexy in fire pants.
34. He leaves me love notes.
35. I would marry him all over again.
2. I kissed him first. Three fast little kisses.
3. After our first “date” he ran away as fast as he could. He literally jumped out of my pickup getting away from me.
4. He is most comfortable in the woods.
5. On our second date we went to dinner and the restaurant forgot to put chicken on my salad… this began a series of misadventures involving restaurants, me & chicken… until I decided I don’t really like chicken all that much and quit ordering it.
6. On our third date, I made him lasagna. He told me what we would name our son and what his nickname would be. He still loves my lasagna and that is, indeed, what we named our son.
7. We make lasagna every Valentine’s Day… except last year when we went “out” and then swore we would never do that again…. The service was slow and the food was average… but it was still fun to spend time together.
8. He hates monkeys.
9. On our fourth date I met his parents.
10. I said “I love you” first.
11. His friends said we would get married long before we were even, um, intimate.
12. His friends were right.
13. He is really good at grammar and writing.
14. He sends me flowers at work.
15. His favorite author is Ivan Doig.
16. For our first anniversary he surprised me with dinner and a night in the honeymoon suite at a local hotel. He brought our wedding cake and champagne and my honeymoon nightie. He even remembered clothes and a ponytail holder for me for the next day.
17. Whenever we went to the farm (before we were married) my mom made him sleep in the basement on the dog’s couch next to the gun cabinet with all the scary guns in it.
18. He looks forward to my sister bringing home a boyfriend to sleep in the basement.
19. He is the first guy I ever took home to meet my parents.
20. He is the classic definition of “still water runs deep.”
21. He is ridiculously smart.
22. On our second anniversary I went in labor at 1:30 in the morning…. We had to cancel our dinner reservations. Our son was born at 6:58 am on our anniversary.
23. He is an amazing lover.
24. He has no idea that he is an amazing lover… even though I tell him all the time.
25. He gave up chewing on his 30th birthday and it was the hardest thing he has ever done.
26. He cuts his own hair.
27. I have stuck with him through gi-scans, cataract surgery, shin splints, a separated shoulder and physical therapy.
28. He put up with me through labor… we are both thankful it was quick.
29. He loves to fly fish.
30. His ideal day would include hiking to a secluded spot with me & his son, finding a giant elk antler, fly-fishing for fat trout, eating a picnic lunch, drinking a beer, reading a book under a shady tree and not seeing another person all day.
31. His favorite color is green.
32. He loves baseball caps…. But only if they are shaped correctly.
33. He is sexy in fire pants.
34. He leaves me love notes.
35. I would marry him all over again.
Froggie
Notice the toys.... a tiny turtle choking hazard and the cabinet locker. There goes my mother-of-the-year award. But, if you squint closely, you can see there are outlet covers in the background. Please do not call social services just yet.....
Orange
I love my new toy. Note the prison orange jump suit. I hope we aren't setting him up for anything.
Monday, March 28, 2005
You like me, you really like me.
YES. Thank you to Susie & LadyBug for posting comments. There are 6 people (including myself, of course) who have read this site! Yeah.
No More Dark.
Mid-February is hard for me. By February the weather is starting to get to me. I crave sunlight & sandals. My grandmother’s birthday is February 22nd and I miss her every day but I miss her the most at Christmas time and her birthday. The baby we lost (that sounds so odd but I don’t know how else to refer to s/he) was due around the 16th. I take comfort that, based on how late Sweet Boy was, the “lost baby” would have been born on Grandma’s birthday. She would have loved that. I’m sure she is holding that baby in heaven right now.
Needless to say, I am glad February is the shortest month and nothing makes me happier than seeing March. No more leaving home for work in the dark. No more getting home after work in the dark. No more playing ball with the dog in the dark. No more dark. I understand why the ancients celebrated spring with such joy…. I think I will get off the computer and go do a little celebrating myself. I might even invite my husband for a little Bauccian (sp?) celebration of fertility….. I have a bottle of wine I’ve been saving for a special occasion… this might just be it.
Here’s to Spring.
Needless to say, I am glad February is the shortest month and nothing makes me happier than seeing March. No more leaving home for work in the dark. No more getting home after work in the dark. No more playing ball with the dog in the dark. No more dark. I understand why the ancients celebrated spring with such joy…. I think I will get off the computer and go do a little celebrating myself. I might even invite my husband for a little Bauccian (sp?) celebration of fertility….. I have a bottle of wine I’ve been saving for a special occasion… this might just be it.
Here’s to Spring.
So we are driving to the farm for Easter….
My sister, my son, my dog & a giant exercise ball… in a Toyota. I’m sure there is a country song about that….. if there isn’t, well, there will be before I am done telling the story.
We have about an hour to go and we (that would be me, the driver, in my infinite intelligence) decide to stop so I can nurse the babe a bit, let him stretch, and let the dog run around. So Sweet Boy gets a snack and becomes Mr. Happy… all giggles & flirting & standing in his car seat. Gunnar (the dog) goes for a little run, comes back and scares my sister… who isn’t expecting him to run up from the south…. She pets him and says, “Hmmm, how did he get wet? Oh shit, this isn’t wet…. It’s… oh shit.”
Yup. Fresh cow crap. There are no cows in a 50 mile radius of where we are parked…. How did he do it? How did he find any that wasn’t frozen? How did he get it behind his ears? The dog is amazing.
After a brisk snow rub-down & toweling off we allowed the dog back in the car. If I had gotten pulled over for speeding I’m pretty sure one whiff of the interior would have gotten me off the hook….. or warranted a call to social services to remove my child.
We have about an hour to go and we (that would be me, the driver, in my infinite intelligence) decide to stop so I can nurse the babe a bit, let him stretch, and let the dog run around. So Sweet Boy gets a snack and becomes Mr. Happy… all giggles & flirting & standing in his car seat. Gunnar (the dog) goes for a little run, comes back and scares my sister… who isn’t expecting him to run up from the south…. She pets him and says, “Hmmm, how did he get wet? Oh shit, this isn’t wet…. It’s… oh shit.”
Yup. Fresh cow crap. There are no cows in a 50 mile radius of where we are parked…. How did he do it? How did he find any that wasn’t frozen? How did he get it behind his ears? The dog is amazing.
After a brisk snow rub-down & toweling off we allowed the dog back in the car. If I had gotten pulled over for speeding I’m pretty sure one whiff of the interior would have gotten me off the hook….. or warranted a call to social services to remove my child.
The story of babies
We started trying for a baby right after we were married in June 2002. I assumed it would be like everything else I do…. I wouldn’t know what was going on for a bit and then “BAM” everything would magically fall into place. Well, in a way that did happen… it just took a little longer than I thought it should. We tried for a year following the instructions in the books. We took temperatures. We checked mucous. We elevated hips. (Any of you who have been through this know how hopelessly clinic love-making can become.) We tried romance. We tried interesting positions. We tried relaxation. (Ok, I’m not going to lie…. I liked those “trying” parts… a lot.) We went to the doctor. He told us not to worry. We got pregnant! We told my parents at the Augusta rodeo the end of June 2003. Any of you doing the math can see where this is going. Sweet Boy was born June 1, 2004. I do not have the gestational period of an elephant. We lost the baby on July 1, 2003. It was a hard, hard thing. In ways I think it was harder for the Daddy than for me. I could feel the loss physically. He couldn’t.
I grew to hate the layout of Target. You go right it is maternity clothes. You go left it is diapers. You go forward it is the baby department. And there are pregnant women EVERYWHERE. I considered stealing a baby from a cart in the Walmart parking lot. My girlfriends gave me hugs and a bottle of wine and told me to stay away from Walmart.
I found out that a lot of people have suffered this kind of loss. It just isn’t something that is often talked about in public. I felt less alone.
Our doctor is a progressive general practice kind of guy. He said the science behind waiting three months to try again was sketchy and that we should wait until I had one real period and then go for it with his blessings. I got sick and ended up at Urgent Care where a stand-in doc (the regular Urgent Care docs are really great) told me I was a foolish woman for not using birth control and that I was risking the life of my future baby by trying to conceive six weeks after a miscarriage. I kindly told him to take the degree he so obviously got out of a cracker jack box and shove it as far up his ass as he possibly could and send me the diamond it produced. No, not really, but that is what I wanted to say to him. Instead I stammered something about being allergic to latex and birth control pills stalling our baby-making efforts for over 12 months previously and I slunk home to seriously reconsider what kind of parent I, a foolish woman, could possibly be. Being a science-type gal I did my research on the subject and learned the idea of previous miscarriage causing future miscarriage is out-dated and barbaric. (Take that you stuffy old codger.) The chance of the egg implanting on the tiny scar left by the previous egg is miniscule and the only reason to wait at all for an established period is to help in determining the gestational age of the baby. (So shove that in your condescending tight ass you behind the times Neanderthal. Go get educated before you scare the shit out of some other woman who isn’t as strong, resilient and internet-savvy as your truly.)
I promised myself I would trust my gut more.
A late fire season took the father-to-be away from home a lot during August. On September 5th we managed to squeeze in a little sweet loving between fire assignments. We weren’t “officially” trying I didn’t worry too much about it and, to be totally honest, that time of “not trying” was a relief after months of “performance” and timing.
Being a tightwad, I had kept the second pregnancy test from the two-pack even though a part of my heart wanted to throw it away and never pray for pink lines again. By the 23rd of September I was so antsy for “things to get flowing” my eyelashes were falling out. (Stress makes that happen to me.) So I gave up and peed on the stick. I had to close one eye to focus thinking that the double pink lines might be from the tears blurring my vision.
But joy after a miscarriage is a fragile thing. Our ever-so-thoughtful and caring doctor scheduled a test to make sure the hormone levels were progressing properly. The test was done on a Wednesday & a Friday. I was sure, over the weekend, that the baby wasn’t real. The phone call came on Monday morning while I was at work. The doctor said, “Everything is fine.” Do I believe him? I wasn’t sure. We went for an ultrasound at around 9 weeks. When the tech showed us that beautiful little blip of a heartbeat I looked over at my husband and the tears were streaming down his face. “It” became more real and I fell in love with my little family.
At around the time we were scheduled for our regular mid-pregnancy ultrasound I had spotting. “Spotting” seems like such an innocent word. Spot. Spot. See Spot Run. See Spot play with Jane. The doc sends me directly to the hospital for an ultrasound…. Me guzzling water for whatever reason it is that they make you drink all that water before you get an ultrasound. The tech (Bob… by this time we are on a first name basis and I really like that man.) gets all set up and then gets called away for an emergency. (The curse of a small hospital.) We sit there holding hands and trying to relax… but not too much because I’m afraid I will pee if I actually relax. Bob comes back, apologizes, and, quicker than I can think, finds the baby’s heartbeat and makes our world whole again. He shows us the fingers & toes, prints lots of pictures, assures us that -though he is not an expert on this and his opinion is not official- our baby is perfect. There is a bit of a question about how the placenta is positioned (possible placental previa) so he will want to see us again in a month.
With a sigh of relief we go have a celebratory milkshake while we gaze in admiration at our strong, strong baby. The following ultrasound is uneventful. The tech warns us not to invite him to the baby shower since he is the only one who knows the sex of the baby and he will spoil the surprise. The tech says the baby is big for gestational age but proportional and with a predicted due date of May 17th based on size…. Although our doc is sticking with the original May 24th due date.
To be continued…..
I grew to hate the layout of Target. You go right it is maternity clothes. You go left it is diapers. You go forward it is the baby department. And there are pregnant women EVERYWHERE. I considered stealing a baby from a cart in the Walmart parking lot. My girlfriends gave me hugs and a bottle of wine and told me to stay away from Walmart.
I found out that a lot of people have suffered this kind of loss. It just isn’t something that is often talked about in public. I felt less alone.
Our doctor is a progressive general practice kind of guy. He said the science behind waiting three months to try again was sketchy and that we should wait until I had one real period and then go for it with his blessings. I got sick and ended up at Urgent Care where a stand-in doc (the regular Urgent Care docs are really great) told me I was a foolish woman for not using birth control and that I was risking the life of my future baby by trying to conceive six weeks after a miscarriage. I kindly told him to take the degree he so obviously got out of a cracker jack box and shove it as far up his ass as he possibly could and send me the diamond it produced. No, not really, but that is what I wanted to say to him. Instead I stammered something about being allergic to latex and birth control pills stalling our baby-making efforts for over 12 months previously and I slunk home to seriously reconsider what kind of parent I, a foolish woman, could possibly be. Being a science-type gal I did my research on the subject and learned the idea of previous miscarriage causing future miscarriage is out-dated and barbaric. (Take that you stuffy old codger.) The chance of the egg implanting on the tiny scar left by the previous egg is miniscule and the only reason to wait at all for an established period is to help in determining the gestational age of the baby. (So shove that in your condescending tight ass you behind the times Neanderthal. Go get educated before you scare the shit out of some other woman who isn’t as strong, resilient and internet-savvy as your truly.)
I promised myself I would trust my gut more.
A late fire season took the father-to-be away from home a lot during August. On September 5th we managed to squeeze in a little sweet loving between fire assignments. We weren’t “officially” trying I didn’t worry too much about it and, to be totally honest, that time of “not trying” was a relief after months of “performance” and timing.
Being a tightwad, I had kept the second pregnancy test from the two-pack even though a part of my heart wanted to throw it away and never pray for pink lines again. By the 23rd of September I was so antsy for “things to get flowing” my eyelashes were falling out. (Stress makes that happen to me.) So I gave up and peed on the stick. I had to close one eye to focus thinking that the double pink lines might be from the tears blurring my vision.
But joy after a miscarriage is a fragile thing. Our ever-so-thoughtful and caring doctor scheduled a test to make sure the hormone levels were progressing properly. The test was done on a Wednesday & a Friday. I was sure, over the weekend, that the baby wasn’t real. The phone call came on Monday morning while I was at work. The doctor said, “Everything is fine.” Do I believe him? I wasn’t sure. We went for an ultrasound at around 9 weeks. When the tech showed us that beautiful little blip of a heartbeat I looked over at my husband and the tears were streaming down his face. “It” became more real and I fell in love with my little family.
At around the time we were scheduled for our regular mid-pregnancy ultrasound I had spotting. “Spotting” seems like such an innocent word. Spot. Spot. See Spot Run. See Spot play with Jane. The doc sends me directly to the hospital for an ultrasound…. Me guzzling water for whatever reason it is that they make you drink all that water before you get an ultrasound. The tech (Bob… by this time we are on a first name basis and I really like that man.) gets all set up and then gets called away for an emergency. (The curse of a small hospital.) We sit there holding hands and trying to relax… but not too much because I’m afraid I will pee if I actually relax. Bob comes back, apologizes, and, quicker than I can think, finds the baby’s heartbeat and makes our world whole again. He shows us the fingers & toes, prints lots of pictures, assures us that -though he is not an expert on this and his opinion is not official- our baby is perfect. There is a bit of a question about how the placenta is positioned (possible placental previa) so he will want to see us again in a month.
With a sigh of relief we go have a celebratory milkshake while we gaze in admiration at our strong, strong baby. The following ultrasound is uneventful. The tech warns us not to invite him to the baby shower since he is the only one who knows the sex of the baby and he will spoil the surprise. The tech says the baby is big for gestational age but proportional and with a predicted due date of May 17th based on size…. Although our doc is sticking with the original May 24th due date.
To be continued…..
Things that thrill me about myself (screw the other people)
1. I can read really fast
2. I have a nice butt and good legs
3. I really like my brother & sister
4. I have excellent taste in mates (and my mate tastes excellent)
5. I have pretty good instincts
2. I have a nice butt and good legs
3. I really like my brother & sister
4. I have excellent taste in mates (and my mate tastes excellent)
5. I have pretty good instincts
Things that annoy me about myself (that I’m sure annoy other people)
1. I fail to post regularly on my blog
2. I almost never fix my hair
3. I have no waist at all
4. I forget to close the garage door on a regular basis
5. I leave candles burning unattended
2. I almost never fix my hair
3. I have no waist at all
4. I forget to close the garage door on a regular basis
5. I leave candles burning unattended
Things I’ve noticed about other bloggers that I’ve also noticed about myself
1. Chronic constipation
2. Parenting naughty pets
3. Extreme attraction to our chosen spousal units
4. Bad hair days
5. Snorting beverages out of our noses at things other people don’t find funny at all
2. Parenting naughty pets
3. Extreme attraction to our chosen spousal units
4. Bad hair days
5. Snorting beverages out of our noses at things other people don’t find funny at all
My son is Elasti-Boy
Have you seen The Incredibles? Yes. My child has rubber arms. He will be 10 months on Friday (April 1st) and he can already load things into the shopping cart. I love getting to the checkout, looking at my list and thinking, “I don’t need a new mophead. Why is there a mophead in my basket?”
He's been doing the Frankenbaby.... he could go about three steps complete with scary zombie arms and strange guttural vocalizations. He’s been walking ala Frankenbaby for about two weeks now but it has just been in the last few days that he has figured out that walking is more than just a fun thing to do to get Grandma to cheer… it can actually take you places.
Look. Out. World.
He's been doing the Frankenbaby.... he could go about three steps complete with scary zombie arms and strange guttural vocalizations. He’s been walking ala Frankenbaby for about two weeks now but it has just been in the last few days that he has figured out that walking is more than just a fun thing to do to get Grandma to cheer… it can actually take you places.
Look. Out. World.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Out the Front Door
This is what it looked like out my front door this morning.... Yes, the front yard was plowed last night. Can you read the dog's mind?
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
The One I Never Post About....
Noticed yet that my significant other never gets any type-time?? He's shy. Even for the internet. But my dear honey is going to get a big list of all the things I like about him posted for all the world to see. And then if he hassles me I will just give this address out to the guys he works with..... mmmwwwwaahhhhhaahhhaaaa.
Sexy
There is nothing more sexy than a man with a diaper bag.... especially one who knows how to use it....
Hmmmm. Maybe a man with a vacuum cleaner... that's pretty sexy too.
Hmmmm. Maybe a man with a vacuum cleaner... that's pretty sexy too.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Easter in Liquorville
My mom got me a mold to make jello jiggler eggs.... what possesses that woman? And how fun is Easter going to be at our house with Jello-shot jiggler Easter eggs??
Posting Frenzy: Part II
I’ve been writing cute little blog snippets all week but I haven’t had the time to actually post them due to my solemn vow to not post at work and an overload of little projects this week. So I slammed a whole stack of them on here yesterday and I’m back today to try to put up a few more.
Brother
So, you've seen the pictures.... what do you think I can get for him on Ebay? Anyone? He's 27. Single. Hopelessly single. He has a good job and, in spite of what he looks like in these pictures, he cleans up quite nicely. He is quite handy. He can fix almost anything. His cooking skills range from the bbq to the microwave to the can opener.... not fancy, but he tries. He has a very nice snowmobile & a motorcycle. The true loves of his life are his horses, Rowdie & Sonata.... Rowdie eats sweatshirts & chases ducks. Sonata is generally more respectable.
I just really need to auction off a few items in my life to raise some money for lawn furniture.
I just really need to auction off a few items in my life to raise some money for lawn furniture.
Friday, March 18, 2005
I seem to be on a fire theme so....
Here’s the story of my first (and only) wildland firefighting experience. A little less than a year ago my sister & I were taking an intermediate wildland fire training class. During the second day of the class the local volunteer firefighter attendees were paged out for a real fire. So they decided to take the training live. Imagine the look on the landowner’s face when about 35 firefighters show up all geared out and ready to do battle…. I’m sure we were impressive. I’m sure of it. My poor husband was a bit embarrassed…. Responding to fires with his 20-year-old sister-in-law was bad enough… but watching your (7 ½ months pregnant) wife run a fire hose?
Just a little politics....
Our dear governor recently requested that our deployed national guardsmen be called back to Montana to fight wildfires this summer. If I didn’t have the wee one to worry about I would seriously consider taking my vacation time and signing on with a contract crew for the summer to fund wireless internet and some new lawn furniture.
Rednecks ROCK
So my brother is going to his college roommate’s wedding this weekend…. in Tennessee. The groom busted tires at Walmart to pay for college. The bride is 8 months pregnant. The town is home to the official Dukes of Hazzard Museum. Need I say more? Well, yes, I do. The groom is now a rocket scientist. Yes, A Rocket Scientist. And Bob, if you are reading this, I just want you to know that SCARES me. Just goes to show that rednecks really can do anything…..
I know it is spring.
It isn’t that the crocus & tulips are transforming my front steps into a salad bar for wayward deer. (They will eat anything… including the seed in the bird feeder & the houseplant I was trying to de-bug on the porch.)
It isn’t that it was 69 degrees here on Friday and Saturday morning I woke up to 12 inches of snow & 26 degrees. That could happen here in July. (Did ya like how I got “69” and “12 inches” in the same sentence?)
No. I know it is spring because this morning I saw my first motorcycle cop of the season. Yup. Doing his little speed trap thing hiding behind a billboard for the local community gardens at the bottom of the hill.
I got pulled over by a motorcycle cop once. I was on my way home from the library. Yes, the LIBRARY. He tailed me for a few blocks and then pulled me over to tell me my tag was partially off my license plate…..but it was ok, he wasn’t going to give me a ticket because he had called in my plate number and it came back current. Thanks officer. He then got a very odd glazed look in his eyes & tilted his head a bit. All my medical training (ok, I was a first responder once… shut up) kicked in and I was pretty sure I was about to see a short man have a seizure in oncoming traffic. I figured he would be ok…. He WAS wearing a helmet. But then I realized it was just the little voices in his head, um, I mean his head-SET, talking to him. He proceeded to take me on a tour of my pickup…. Walking me around to point out that the tag was, indeed, peeling up. Thanks again officer. I got back in the pickup and reached to fasten my seatbelt. The good officer asked if I had NOT been wearing my seatbelt?? (I swear, the little dickwad’s eyes lit up.) I kindly reminded him of the little WALK we had just taken to view my license plate?!?! If that little prick pulls me over again I might get a ticket but he’s coming out of the deal with a broken leg.
It isn’t that it was 69 degrees here on Friday and Saturday morning I woke up to 12 inches of snow & 26 degrees. That could happen here in July. (Did ya like how I got “69” and “12 inches” in the same sentence?)
No. I know it is spring because this morning I saw my first motorcycle cop of the season. Yup. Doing his little speed trap thing hiding behind a billboard for the local community gardens at the bottom of the hill.
I got pulled over by a motorcycle cop once. I was on my way home from the library. Yes, the LIBRARY. He tailed me for a few blocks and then pulled me over to tell me my tag was partially off my license plate…..but it was ok, he wasn’t going to give me a ticket because he had called in my plate number and it came back current. Thanks officer. He then got a very odd glazed look in his eyes & tilted his head a bit. All my medical training (ok, I was a first responder once… shut up) kicked in and I was pretty sure I was about to see a short man have a seizure in oncoming traffic. I figured he would be ok…. He WAS wearing a helmet. But then I realized it was just the little voices in his head, um, I mean his head-SET, talking to him. He proceeded to take me on a tour of my pickup…. Walking me around to point out that the tag was, indeed, peeling up. Thanks again officer. I got back in the pickup and reached to fasten my seatbelt. The good officer asked if I had NOT been wearing my seatbelt?? (I swear, the little dickwad’s eyes lit up.) I kindly reminded him of the little WALK we had just taken to view my license plate?!?! If that little prick pulls me over again I might get a ticket but he’s coming out of the deal with a broken leg.
Boys will be boys??
My son is such a boy. Now, before you slam me for gender stereotyping I want you to know I am a hip & happening mama. I have a subscription to “Brain, Child” and my baby wears Robeez shoes. I often haul him around in a sling and sometimes I even make his baby food. There are a lot of very thick child care books piled on the back of our toilet. We try to do the right things.
The kid is only 9 months old and he already knows how to throw a ball, bang things together and drive an unopened package of wipes around like a little toy car complete with “ppptttthhhhh” car noises (I know, call Mensa). My mother-in-law says my husband drove cigarette packs around like cars and made guns out of his crackers so maybe there is a genetic connection. He has (just like his father) his sensitive moments… when we tuck teddy into bed or when he plays with my hair when he is getting sleepy (hey, wait a minute, both of them do that)…. But there is this wild man side to the baby…. When he crawls up on the shelf under the end table and grabs the legs and starts shaking it madly or when he tries to head butt the dog or tackle the cat. He reminds me of a tiny me... but with less tequila.
The kid is only 9 months old and he already knows how to throw a ball, bang things together and drive an unopened package of wipes around like a little toy car complete with “ppptttthhhhh” car noises (I know, call Mensa). My mother-in-law says my husband drove cigarette packs around like cars and made guns out of his crackers so maybe there is a genetic connection. He has (just like his father) his sensitive moments… when we tuck teddy into bed or when he plays with my hair when he is getting sleepy (hey, wait a minute, both of them do that)…. But there is this wild man side to the baby…. When he crawls up on the shelf under the end table and grabs the legs and starts shaking it madly or when he tries to head butt the dog or tackle the cat. He reminds me of a tiny me... but with less tequila.
Baby (fat) Blues....
When thinking about my shape I always vaguely remember a section from one of those books by Madeleine L'Engle… you know, the writer of “A Wrinkle In Time.” One of the books that followed “Wrinkle” had a scene in which a young girl takes her measurements and reports that they are 20-20-20….. I feel like that. Except it is more like 42-34-38….. (thank you breast feeding). But that waist measurement!!! And I’m being generous saying 34. I’ve never had much of a waist anyway…. Short-bodied compounded by scoliosis…. And my bottom ribs are even with my hip bones….. let’s just say I don’t wear belts and look ridiculous in a bathing suit. The only thing that saves me is I am tall and I know how to dress. Lots of jackets, vests and hip-skimming tees. Scarves to draw the attention away. And I don’t wear anything with a line of close-set buttons or a zipper up the front because it follows the snake that is my spine in an s-shaped curve.
Breaking News
They made an arrest in Montana.
It seems there was a plot to kidnap David Letterman's son & nanny. Nice.
Letterman is one of the "good" celebritites. He doesn't expect special treatment. He contributes generously to the community. (You should see the performing arts space he gave money for at Choteau (pronounced Show-toe for you non-natives) High School. Amazing.) He shows up at the Augusta Rodeo (I might talk more about that later.... it is quite an event) and enjoys being treated like a local. Even if being treated like a "local" risks having your boots puked on by a drunk cowboy at the Buckhorn Bar.
I speak for Montana, Dave, and we like you. I'm very sorry this happened to you and I personally pledge my support (and all my martial arts skills and the vast weapons arsenal at my disposal) to the safety and security of you and your family.
Please come back.
It seems there was a plot to kidnap David Letterman's son & nanny. Nice.
Letterman is one of the "good" celebritites. He doesn't expect special treatment. He contributes generously to the community. (You should see the performing arts space he gave money for at Choteau (pronounced Show-toe for you non-natives) High School. Amazing.) He shows up at the Augusta Rodeo (I might talk more about that later.... it is quite an event) and enjoys being treated like a local. Even if being treated like a "local" risks having your boots puked on by a drunk cowboy at the Buckhorn Bar.
I speak for Montana, Dave, and we like you. I'm very sorry this happened to you and I personally pledge my support (and all my martial arts skills and the vast weapons arsenal at my disposal) to the safety and security of you and your family.
Please come back.
Convenience store snacks or creative play things?
I just got an email from a friend describing her daughter pooping while she was changing her and she (I quote) said, “This is going to sound gross but you know those nacho cheese machines they have in convenience stores and at concession stands? Well the amount and shape of what was coming out of Kate made me think of nacho cheese coming out of those machines except it was more like the color of mustard. There's a nice image for you to think about over lunch :)”
The first time the boy did that to me (age 3.5 weeks in the back seat of the car at the mall after his auntie kept walking really fast to get away from that "smell" that turned out to be attached to her via the sling) all I could think of was one of those red & yellow playdough machines…. Where you press the lever and shapes spew out... I was waiting for the form to be a star or something... a shooting star. A squirting star?
The first time the boy did that to me (age 3.5 weeks in the back seat of the car at the mall after his auntie kept walking really fast to get away from that "smell" that turned out to be attached to her via the sling) all I could think of was one of those red & yellow playdough machines…. Where you press the lever and shapes spew out... I was waiting for the form to be a star or something... a shooting star. A squirting star?
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Hello....
WHY doesn't this "Hello" thing work for me???? And I'm trying to do this on DIAL UP..... Must join the next generation of technology...... I mean, COME ON, even my MOM has DSL...... heck, my GRANDPA has better techie gear than I do.....
Not Me.....
No, I'm not the kind of parent who pulls the high chair up to the computer & feeds the baby pieces of bread while I try to figure out how to post a picture. (Who developed "Hello" by the way? Product of the Devil.) No, my son isn't looking at me like a little baby bird with his mouth open. Cheep. Cheep. Cheep. Baby Bird.
Well, I suppose I wasn't going to get Mother-Of-The-Year this year anyway....
Well, I suppose I wasn't going to get Mother-Of-The-Year this year anyway....
The New Purchase
The only person I’ve told about this blog experiment is my Brother. He isn’t impressed. But I am now going to post something that will impress him.
The New Purchase
This is his New Purchase. The rest of the family knew (because I have a big mouth) that he was Buying Something. But I didn’t tell them what it was… well, actually, I did tell them what it was… I told them he bought a Russian Bride. The boy needs a wife… but more on that later. So, officially, the check has cleared, the snow is falling and I’m pretty sure he won’t comment on this for a few days because he is out trying to see if it really will go 115 across a frozen lake.
The New Purchase
This is his New Purchase. The rest of the family knew (because I have a big mouth) that he was Buying Something. But I didn’t tell them what it was… well, actually, I did tell them what it was… I told them he bought a Russian Bride. The boy needs a wife… but more on that later. So, officially, the check has cleared, the snow is falling and I’m pretty sure he won’t comment on this for a few days because he is out trying to see if it really will go 115 across a frozen lake.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
While I was Driving.....
On my way to work Wednesday I saw something interesting…. Three very large, very camouflage vehicles with big guns on top. Perched on said vehicles were many small men wearing tan helmets. I gotta tell ya… it made me do a double-take.
Not to be outdone- Thursday’s driving-to-work viewing included a very large and, again, very camouflage vehicle with the most giganticous tires I have ever seen. But this one was a dark camouflage as opposed to the “desert” tan of the previous day and it was lacking the large guns. These are the observations my ration mind was able to make as the tiny voice in my head noted that these events should probably indicate something to me….. like WHAT THE H#LL IS GOING ON HERE? What’s up with the military vehicles out cruising every morning? Anyone?
Not to be outdone- Thursday’s driving-to-work viewing included a very large and, again, very camouflage vehicle with the most giganticous tires I have ever seen. But this one was a dark camouflage as opposed to the “desert” tan of the previous day and it was lacking the large guns. These are the observations my ration mind was able to make as the tiny voice in my head noted that these events should probably indicate something to me….. like WHAT THE H#LL IS GOING ON HERE? What’s up with the military vehicles out cruising every morning? Anyone?
Once Upon A Time.....
Once upon a time not so long ago in a small house in the woods there lived a beautiful, um, princess.
Ok, this is not going where I want it to go. How can I concentrate when I know the only person who will read this is my husband? And, just to let you know, my husband is The Grammar Police. He's gonna poke fun at me for starting a sentence with "And." He says in formal writing you can't write the way you speak. The problem is.... he's usually right. But no one says I can't try.
Ok, this is not going where I want it to go. How can I concentrate when I know the only person who will read this is my husband? And, just to let you know, my husband is The Grammar Police. He's gonna poke fun at me for starting a sentence with "And." He says in formal writing you can't write the way you speak. The problem is.... he's usually right. But no one says I can't try.
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