Holiday Snark Trifecta- Part Dork...

Beth over at StarvingWriteNow and Robyn from Picnic at Stonehenge were kind enough to include me in their snarkapalooza to bring about holiday cheer...but due to severe dorkage and not paying attentionitis, my part of this is late. So extremely sorry, but please to be enjoying the following horrible covers....

The Boss's Christmas Proposal:

Robyn: Uh, hi there…this is the Throckmorton and Sons Christmas party, right? Look, lady, I’m just here for the free buffet

Beth: "I propose... we boom-boom looonng time."

Missie: I propose HQ find a new cover.

Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses...

Robyn: He wants a kiss because his Christmas sweater didn’t fit.

Beth: How many hickeys is he hiding under that turtleneck?

Missie: You are super studly and all, but I really wish Santa would bring you a neck for Christmas.

Rescued by the Magic of Christmas:

Robyn: The magic of Christmas gave them gloves and hats but not coats?

Beth: She: Too fast! You're going too fast! I'm gonna puke! He: Who the **** decided I should drive this stupid thing?

Missie: Thomas Kincade thinks this cover is too cutting edge.

Her Best Christmas Ever!

Robyn: It will be her last Christmas ever if he doesn’t realize babies CAN’T EAT COOKIES YET.

Beth: Obviously New Dad doesn't know that Traction Baby is too young for cookies...

Missie: See, I told you Junior looks like a gingerbread man! Do you believe me now?

Head on over to Beth's and Robyn's blogs for more holiday snarktime fun!

Santa Baby

Me: Alison, you better straighten up!

Alison: NO!

Me: Okay, I will just tell Santa when he calls that you are being a very bad girl. He won't like that.

Ali: (short pause, thoughtful look) Can we call Santa, Mommy? I wanna talkta Santa! I call him on yer phone! Santa, wheh ahh you?

Me: (slapping self upside the head for thinking this would work)

The next day.....

Ali: Mom, when Santa gonna call? I talk to him? I tell him bring me some pwessent! For Chwissmas! I yike Santa! I call him now, okay?

Me: (again with the slapping)

The next day....

Ali: I doen yike Santa.

Me: You don't like Santa?!

Ali: No. I doen yike him. He mean.

Me: Oooooh, you better not say that! He won't bring you any presents!

Ali: I juss kidden! I yike him yots, Mommy! He nice. I just kidden.

I asso yike yong walks on da beach, Dora, and canny. You habb some canny? I can habb it?

More Real Life Conversations

Me: Alison, what do you think of the Big 3 Auto Bailout?

Alison: (shakes head back and forth)

Me: You don't like it?

Ali: NO!

Me: If we don't bail them out, what should we do about it then?

Ali: A bertday house! (giggles)

Me: Should the taxpayers have to pay for the mistakes of the Big 3?

Ali: Let's have a bertday with ten candles, okay? Woo-hooo!

Me: How is a birthday going to solve the current economic crisis?

Ali: Yeah, it's my bess bertday I ever seen!

Me: What advice would you give the President and Congress?

Ali: (long pause) Whatchu say-nen?

Me: Do you think the lawmakers on Capitol Hill should be giving away all that money?

Ali: Nuh-huh. No.

Me: Are you a smart girl?

Ali: Uh-huh. Good sunny day!

And somehow, what my three year old said makes just as much sense as Bernanke and Paulson.

Like Totally OMG!

In case some of you have been living under a rock and not realize what today is, let me inform you...it's the release of the movie Twilight. To say that I don't give a flying rat's keister about it would be an understatement. I may be the only thirtysomething female reader in the US who hasn't read all fortysevenfrillion pages of the Twilight saga, nor do I ever plan to. I don't like vampires. I don't like to read about vampires. I especially don't like to read about teenaged angst related love stories between humans and vampires.

I am sure the stories are probably riveting and well-written. The author is no doubt talented, and kudos to her for picking a genre that has not been oversaturated and adding her own creative twist. But still...vampires do nothing for me. (If you really want to get me to read your books, create a hero who does dishes, not sucks blood.)

And yet, even though I care not about this movie and never plan to read the books or rent the DVDs, I know all about it. Why, you ask? Because the print, web, and television media has TwilightOverloadSyndrome and cannot seem to report on anything else for several weeks running. I cannot escape this thing. There is nowhere for me to hide, nowhere for me to get my news, nowhere for me to watch some mindnumbing television for a few hours where I am not exposed to commercials for this movie. And it's getting old...

One of my friends is a complete Twilight freak. I love her, but she has gone completely overboard on this thing. She started reading the first book, and by the end of five days, had read all of them...staying awake into the wee hours of the morning, and rising early just to get through the books as fast as she could, then going into withdrawals when she couldn't find the next book in the series for a day or two. I have been subjected to hours long discussions of what happened in this book, and then this is how this one ended, and then Edward did this but he doesn't like being a vampire and then Bella told her dad this, and then the other vampire relatives did this and blahbittyblahblahblah someone kill me now. (wait, I added that last bit myself.) When she found out the release date of the movie, the first thing she did was confirm with her inlaws that they would be able to take the kids that night so she and her husband could attend the premier. Again, I love her, but she's a freak.

So being the complete smartkeister that I am, I left the following message on her voicemail just a bit ago:

(highpitched teen fangirl voice screaming hysterically voice) "OHMYGOSH THE TWILIGHT PREMIER IS TONIGHT AND I TOTALLY CANT WAIT BECAUSE EDWARD! WE GET TO SEE EDWARD AND HE'S SO COOL AND HOT AT THE SAME TIME AND ALL KINDSA VAMPIREY EVEN THOUGH HE LOOKS LIKE HE COMBED HIS HAIR WITH A PORKCHOP AND HE LOVES BELLA AND SHE'S SO CONFUSED AND IT'S ALL SO COOL AND AWEWSOME AND EDDDDDWAAAAAAAAARDDDDDDD!!!!!...actually, it's just me calling to wish you a happy movie night. And try to remember that Edward is a character and not a real live person and that it would be very unseemly for you as a thirty seven year old mother of two to rush the big screen and attempt to kiss him, mkay?"

Just doing my little part to make the world a happier place, people.

Again with the packing...

Tomorrow I leave on a business trip to San Antonio. While I am looking forward to the nice weather, shopping on the Riverwalk, and hanging out with my mom, I am not looking forward to the TEN HOURS it will take me to get there.

Ten.Hours.

Normally, I love the travel part of traveling. I like planes, like airports (except LAX), like catching up on my reading and having some alone time. What I don't like is having to take a flight from Boise to LA, wait two hours, take a flight from LA to Dallas, wait two hours, then arrive in San Antonio. No. I do not like that at all.

But I can't really complain (well, yes I can, but I shouldn't). I have a job where I get to work from home and raise my babies, travel occasionally, and get paid really well. That really wins over a ten hour travel day.

At least when I come back home, I only have to travel eight.

Mr. Wrong

You know what the problem with a blog is? People get all involved up in your business, because, you know, you put your business up on your blog, and then some people (initials TB and BK come to mind) are all, "What's up with your blog? When are you going to update your blog? It's been two weeks since you've written anything new on your blog! How can you expect me to come back and read your blog if you never post anything new?" If I wanted more people demanding things of me, I would have had more children.

I kid, I kid! Seriously, because so many of you out there depend on me to brighten up your horribly dull and miserable lives, I will procede to give you an update of the incredibly astounding happenings in mine...

As soon as there are any.

I have been MIA because of 1) a four day business trip to San Diego (which I will write about later--later being later in the vaguest sense of the word--but suffice it to say that Dude! Never have I seen so many homeless people in one square mile as I did in SD. While I felt really bad for whatever situation brought the homeless people to that point in their lives, they still kinda creeped me out and seriously curtailed my normal walking-around-whatever-new-city-I-find-myself-in scenario. But if I were homeless, I have to say that San Diego is probably where I would want to be homeless because again, Dude. It was October and dang close to eighty degrees. So there is that) and 2) a family vacation to the Oregon Coast which was lots and lots of fun except for the driving clear across the whole entire freaking state of Oregon twice in a small car with two kids. Other than that, it was super peaceful and stuff.

Because my mind is still on vacation, and frankly, I do not want to talk about the election or anything else of a serious nature, I decided to do what any self-respecting blogger would do in my situation. And that is copy an idea for a post from another blogger. (Why are you looking at me that way? You got a problem, buddy?) Heather from Riding on the Short Bus posted about her worst online dates--if you need a good laugh, head on over there. Too funny. (did you seriously think I would be posting a link? If so, you must be new here. I am linkally-challenged. Google her.)

If I took the time to post all my dating horror stories, we could be here awhile. Not that I was some Dating Dynamo, because I have probably only went out with about seven different men in my whole life. That includes first-and-only dates, and boyfriends, so it's not like I am Queen Hoochymama or something.

Totally unrelated but yet cute story: Last night, Alison dressed up as Snow White for Halloween. When she tried on the SW dress, the front sagged down a bit--well, more than a bit--actually halfway down her stomach. My husband and I started laughing and I said, "Well, she could always go as a Hoochymama!" and then we laughed some more because we are dorks. Ali looked at us strangely and said, "I a hoochymommy?" We assured her that no, she was a pretty princess Snow White, fixed her costume to cover all it was supposed to, and that was that. Or so I thought. I was talking to my mom today while driving and I related to her that story from last night. Alison hollers from the backseat, "Mom! I needa talk ta Gran Gran!" After getting the cell from me, she proceeds to tell my mom, "Guess what, Gran Gran? Ina hoochymommy!" My mom is cracking up, which just spurs Ali to keep up the refrain of "Ina hoochymommy! Ina hoochymommy!" For.Five.Minutes. Eventually she gave herself the hiccups laughing so much. When I finally got the phone back at a stoplight, my mom was in tears from all the laughter. Moral of the story is maybe I should be more careful about what words I use in front of our little curly-headed tape recorder.

Okay, back to our regularly scheduled post about dating..I went out on a date with a very nice guy whom I will call Fred. He does not remotely resemble a Fred but I will call him that because I don't actually know anyone named Fred except for Freddie Mercury whom I think we can all agree that I never went out with and Fred Flintstone whom I never went out with either because a) he is a cartoon and that would be just creepy and 2) he is married and that is just not how I roll.

So anyway...I knew Fred from church where he was very involved in helping teach our youth group. He was polite, gainfully employed in an actual career that required education, could form complete sentences, was not hygenically-challenged, and nice-looking in a rather bland, kinda white bread way. He was well-liked by everyone, and not the type to make moves on every single girl in the right age range. Most of all, he was a Christian, an honest to goodness, real practicing Christian, that like actually read the Bible and tried to live by what it said and stuff! So, you know, cool.

I had liked Fred in the kind of "I would go out with him if he asked me but will not die if he doesn't" way, so when he finally did ask, I accepted. I was very nervous and spent muchly-huge amounts of time pondering the bigger issues surrounding our date, like what was I to wear? How would I do my makeup? How far up should I tease my bangs? that kind of thing. When he picked me up and asked if I liked Chinese food, me and my seen-from-space big hair replied in the affirmative. We went to a very nice restaurant...the kind with NO buffet, NO paper placemats, and fresh flowers on each table. The atmosphere was subdued, quiet and romantic. Certainly the kind of place a young man would take a big-haired nineteen year old girl he was trying to impress. (Why are you focusing on my hair? It was 1990 and I lived in the South. Shut up.) Everything was going swimmingly until our entrees arrived.

I cannot for the life of me remember what I ordered that night, probably sweet and sour something because I can be a creature of habit. But I will never ever forget what Fred ordered. Why, you ask? Why would such an insignificant detail about a man I dated eighteen years ago stick out in my mind like an annoying song that once you hear it in the grocery store, you can't get it out of your head for days? Because Fred ordered Kung Pao Chicken. And apparently, Fred sweats when he eats hot food. Not a slight beading of perspiration on the forehead. Full On Sweat. To quote Larry the Cable Guy, "A bunch of fat women on the way to see the Ricky Martin" kind of sweat.

Strike One.

But sweating was not the only thing that hot food made Fred do. No, no, my friends. It also made his head turn red. Not just his face. His.Entire.Head.

Including.Scalp.Which.I.Had.Not.Previously.Noticed.All.That.Much.

But.Sure.Did.Now.That.It.Was.Signalling.Aircraft.

Stee-rike Two!

As I am sitting there debating whether my date is just having an allergic reaction or is in fact, going to turn into The Kindler, Gentler Version of The Hulk, his eyes begin to water. Then the tears start pouring. Yes, folks, you read that right. Tears. TEEE-HEEEE-HERES. Running down his face, onto his chin, as he is fanning his face with one hand and wiping madly with the other. He looked at me sheepishly and said, "Geez, I forgot what spicy food does to me."

You forgot? You forgot? You forgot that spicy food makes your head resemble a Hot Tamale and reduces you to weeping like a little girl? Huh.

Steee-rike Three! You are Outta There!

It was in that moment I decided that while I am very compassionate and deep and stuff, there are just some things I was not willing to deal with for the rest of my life. Aaaaaand this was one of them.

Fred ended up okay in the end, though. He somehow survived not being chosen as Mr. Missie and went on to date and marry a very nice girl who also attended our church. God bless him and his cute little wife. (Although I bet she never cooks him Kung Pao).

What are some of your dating horror stories?

So totally not a hoochy-mommy.

Droppin a Turkey...

So the deadline for entering my contest (Oct 15th) is approaching. So far, the following people are joining me in my quest to drop the size of an average Turkey before Thanksgiving:

Robyn
Liz
Elizabeth (for exercise only)

If any others want to sign up, email me at melissa974@earthlink.net or leave a comment. You need to record your weight and your losses on a weekly basis and report the results in to me. You do not have to reveal your actual weight, just the pounds lost. Remember, the person losing the highest PERCENTAGE of weight by December 1st wins the five buckarooni gift card to Starbucks.

In case any of you needed further proof what a classy operation we run around here, I present the following video of my youngest spawn bustin' her moves to the all time classic...



Yeah, baby. The Safety Dance. Now the song will be stuck in your head all day. You're welcome.

(and no, before you ask, I did NOT teach her to stop dancing in order to pick her nose.)

Superlative Soup

So the Chicken Tortilla Soup was a big hit at our table the other night. I promised you the recipe, so here it goes:

2 14oz cans chicken broth w/roasted garlic**

1 14.5oz can Mexican style stewed tomatoes, undrained

1 9oz pkg frozen chopped cooked chicken breast

2 cups frozen pepper stir-fry vegetables

Corn Chips

Sliced jalapeno peppers (totally optional)

Sour Cream

Cheese

Cilantro

Combine first four ingredients in crockpot. Cover and cook on low heat for 6-7 hours or high for 3-3.5 hours. To serve, ladle into bowls and top with corn chips, peppers, sour cream, cheese, and cilantro according to taste.

This was sooo gooooood, you guys. The soup by itself directly out of the crockpot tasted good, but when I added a small dollop of sour cream to my bowl along with cheese and fresh cilantro, it brought out a whole new array of flavors. My husband and son each ate two bowls of this. I had the remainder today for lunch. If you have a large family or a bunch of good eaters, you might want to double the recipe.

One thing I really like about this soup is that it took all of about five minutes to assemble. The one element that took me the longest in this whole meal preparation was the grating of the cheese!

In all fairness, I cannot let you think I made this up on my own. I got the recipe from "5Ingredient Slow Cooking" by Better Homes and Gardens. I picked up this little cookbook for ten cents at a yard sale on Labor Day. I figured if the recipes were not to my liking, at least I'd only spent a dime on the book. Later this week, we are going to have the Apricot Pulled Pork Sandwiches. Will let you know how that turns out.

**p.s.--I didn't use the chicken broth with the garlic in it. I had regular chicken broth, so I just used that and added about a teaspoon of minced garlic.

p.s. #2--I made some killer zucchini bread this week using the last zuke from our own garden. I have a bit more zuke left and can't decide whether to make another batch or to saute it up. Decisions, decisions.

p.s. #3--have you entered my contest yet? No, I don't think you did. Not that I am pressuring you or anything. I will just cry incessantly and assume no one loves me, but no, really. You should not feel obligated at all.

p.s. #4--I have lost two pounds this week. So far, I am ahead in the contest. I will be buying my own self a Starbucks gift card if none of you sign up. Which is fine, because I love me some 'bucks, but still....again, no pressure.

Back In the Saddle...Again

So, today starts the zilliondy-seventh time I have begun Weight Watchers on my own. It's 2pm and so far, so good. (If you are wondering exactly how much zilliondy-seven is? It is roughly equal to what we as taxpayers now owe thanks to Fannie, Freddy, and AIG.)

I have Chicken Tortilla Soup cooking in the crockpot. The house is filled with the wonderful aroma of the peppers and spices. If it tastes as good as it smells, I will post the recipe for you.

Do you realize it's only two months until Thanksgiving? Which means only three months until Christmas? Which means that if you are like me, Miss BakeyMcMakeTreatsAlot, then there is only so much time to lose any extra weight before the holidays hit...and with it the extra pounds.

So today, I announce the Fall Drop A Turkey Extravaganza 2008 Edition. (Catchy name, no?) If you want to lose some extra poundage (um, like some people need to lose roughly the equivalent of two turkeys, coughcough, not me for I am but a shadow) but are having a hard time doing it and need some "encouragement", feel free to email me directly at melissa974@earthlink.net. I promise to keep on your back if you keep on mine. Together we can lose and get in shape for the holidays. Those of you who feel like it can disclose your stats to me, such as current weight, pounds lost goal, etc. I will post weekly updates here, such as "Thumbelina lost four pounds this week!" (I will not post your current weight on the site, so no worries there.)The person losing the highest percentage of weight by December 1st wins a $5 Starbucks gift card. So get signed up today, and get the pounds off by the time the family gathers around the dry turkey.

In other news, I signed up on facebook and myspace. And am now getting friend requests from people I have never heard of. My popularity knows no bounds, apparently.



In still other news, Girlfriend has decided that there's more than one use for a hand-crocheted Barbie dress. And that she doesn't need to nap anymore.

What up, dog?

Is it sad or just pathetic when you realize your preschooler is cooler than you?
Come on, vogue!

That's My Story...

....aaaaaaand I'm stickin' to it.

My life, summed up in picture form

more animals

Watch Out, Broadway

Translation:

I thank God for this day
For the sun in the sky
For my mom and my dad
For my piece of apple pie
For our home on the ground
For his love that's all around
That's why I say thanks every day

Because a thankful heart is a happy heart
I'm glad for what I have
That's an easy way to start
For the love that he shares
Cuz he listens to my prayers
That's why I say thanks every day

Miscellany

I am in California this week at our company's head office, doing document reproduction work. Which is a glorified way of saying I am copying, filing, and printing reports out the wazoo. I arrived yesterday morning and won't be back home until Friday night. I already miss the family, but it sure is nice to be able to have an entire latte to myself.

Remember, like a hundred years ago, when I instituted Recipe Friday? Which then got changed to Recipe Whenever I Remember, which then got changed to Recipes That Will Never Happen Because I am Too Busy to Remember and You Guys Think I am Full of Crud? Yeah? Good times, they were. Anyway, today I am imparting to you my recipe for zucchini because 1) It's super easy, B) I need content to fill this here blog besides my rambling, and Thirdly), It is super yummy and you will like it. I found the original recipe on, of all things, a romance readers' blog in the comments, and have adapted it to fit our family's palate. Feel free to pass this off as your own, but remember to secretly thank me when people rave about it, mkay?

Missie's Zucchini (because I am all wordsmithy like that)

Zucchini, Peeled and sliced in whatever size appeals to you

Onions, chopped

Brown Sugar

Butter

Beef Boullion Powder or Cubes, and Water

Cayenne Pepper or Pepper Flakes

Saute zucchini and onions over med high heat in butter. When zucchini starts to soften, add brown sugar. Start with about 2-3 tablespoons. You can always add more later. Dissolve beef boullion cube in about 1/4 c boiling water and add to pan. If using beef boullion powder, which I prefer, add about 1-2 tbsp. There is no need to add additional salt, because the boullion is salty enough. Add cayenne and simmer for about ten minutes. You can make this as sweet or spicy as you desire. Add more sugar or beef boullion to taste.

My husband loves this served over a hamburger patty. This makes a great side dish, and an unusual way to use up the zucchini overflowing your garden (or the gardens of people from church who foist their extras off on you after service).

If you try this, give me your opinion!

Have a good one, everyone!

p.s. Update on the Invitashuns of Eggsellent Grammer: They were ordered from an actual printshop! Boggles the mind, doesn't it?

I'm Not Making This Up...

One of my husband's shirt-tail relations is getting married in two weeks. On the response card that came with the invitation, it read:

"We will not be registering

Money will be appreciated to help us

Along are way on are homeymoon"

Klassy.

We are getting them his and hers doo-rags to wear on their homeymoon to South Central Los Angeles. As well as the latest edition of Hooked on Phonics.

I just hope those crazy kids don't get deevorxd.

Raaaawwwwwr!

I'ne a Pi-watt!

Thank you, Spongebob.

Three

Dear Alison,

Yesterday you turned three years old.

You are such a big girl now that it breaks my heart. You are funny and sweet and emotional. You are loving and tomboyish and girly. You have definite opinions and are not afraid to express them. You are adventurous and mischievious and downright alot of work.

I was a happy person before you were born. I loved your daddy and your brother, and was overall contented with my life. I never felt that something was missing. Never felt that a part of me lay dormant and unexplored. Never felt that there was just one more thing that I needed to attain in order to feel that my life was where it was supposed to be.

Until you.

I looked in your little pudgy jaundiced face and realized that this was it. This bundle of squalling newborn was the missing piece to my life's puzzle. I worried before you were born that I wouldn't love you as much as I loved your brother. It scared me how much I loved him. I worried that you would get leftovers of me, that my best momming years might be in the past. That you would somehow come out on the short end of the stick. I knew I would love you, but I just didn't know how much.

Yeah. I shouldn't have worried.

My daughter. My sweetie. My noodle. You are so much more than I ever hoped for. I love you completely. Totally. Crazily. You are my meemit, my beebee, my punkin punkin. You are my baby baby girl. You are It.

When I saw you laying so helplessly sick in the hospital and thought about what my life would be like without you, my knees buckled. My heart clenched. I broke out in a cold sweat. You have woven your way through the fibers of my heart. You make my life complete in a way that I can't explain. You'll understand one day when you have kidlets of your own.

I almost cannot remember our family life before you. I know we were very happy. And I know we weren't as busy. I seem to remember it being alot quieter around here.

But I wouldn't trade all the noise and the chaos and the tears and the emotional breakdowns that you have on a thrice daily basis for anything in the world. Daddy and Zach feel the same way.

Happy Bertcake, Sweetness. I love you.

Love,

Mama

Ummmm, yeah...

Ever think you are doing really well on your diet/exercise/new life style plan for world domination...and then see a picture of yourself and realize it is not working out so hot for ya?

And no, I am not doing the "Loser" sign. I have no idea what I was doing, but it definitely was not the loser sign.

I am consoling myself with the fact that if I were alive during the Renaissance, I would be considered really really hot. Because they liked their women fleshy and rotund.

I Melt

Alison: Mommy! My bess fwen!
Me: What, sweetie?
Alison: My bess fwen!
Me: Your best friend?
Alison: Yeah, Mommy. My bess fwen my Zacky. I luh my Zacky.

It's times like that, that make all this mommying worth while.

So Not Fair

Some of you may already know this, but for those who do not, Christian recording artist Steven Curtis Chapman and his family have suffered a horrible loss this week. Their five year old daughter, Maria, was struck and killed in the driveway of their family home in Tennessee...by a vehicle driven by one of the Chapmans' teenaged sons.

I cannot begin to imagine the horror and grief that this family is going through right now. In addition to the loss of their precious girl, they are having to deal with the tragedy being caused by one of their other children. My son would be absolutely devastated if he were to cause pain or injury to my daughter...their son is surely feeling guilt and self-blame beyond comprehension.

I remember hearing Steven in concert about nineteen years ago in a small church in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He was up on stage with his guitar, singing these heart-felt songs that he had written. He spoke of his love for God and for his wife and children. He was so genuine, so down to earth, so real. A few years ago, a friend loaned me a video that Steven and his wife had made showing their journey towards adopting a little girl from China. Since then, they have adopted a total of three. Maria was one of them. By the end of the video, I was in tears and thanking God that there are people like the Chapmans in the world who will rescue babies from orphanages.

Let's all say a prayer for this family. Not just today, but any time that you remember them. They are going to need it.

How to put it?

Dear Nice Lady,

Thanks for coming by my booth at the conference today. It was a pleasure meeting you and discussing how we might do business together.

On a personal note, I thought your lemon yellow capri pantsuit was divine. It was breezy and casual, yet dressy. Perfect for the conference setting in this beautiful resort. Your hair and make up were fantastic, and the glasses you chose were just the right shape for your face. Your jewelry added just the right touch, a little bling but not too much. And your shoes? We will not get into a discussion of your shoes, because they were divine and made me want to mug you for them. It is obvious you put alot of care and thought into your fashion choices.

But next time? You might want to reconsider the black thong. I am just sayin'.

Your New Friend,
Missie

Happy Mother's Day

To all of you wonderful ladies out there who go by the name of Mom, Mommy, Mama, or Maaaahmaaaaay--I want to wish you the happiest and best of days. May you be surrounded by your children and those you love. Or at least not be bothered by those who annoy you.

We are in Idaho, happy to be home. All is not unpacked or organized yet, which stresses me to no end. But it feels right to be here. I missed Idaho in more ways than I even thought.

Monday I leave for two days in Chicago followed by three days in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. I don't want to leave again so soon after just coming back from one trip and then moving, but what can ya do? I am looking forward to getting some good uninterrupted sleep at some point during next week. That alone is almost worth the hassle of going. We will be meeting with many of our clients face to face, so therefore I must be dressed in "business formal" attire (my boss' emphasis). Dang. I thought I could just show up in my bikini and hot pink feather boa and call it good. We are heading directly from the airport to a client's office, which means one thing...that when I leave my house at approximately 5 freaking AM on Monday, I will have to be in HEELS! HOSE! A SKIRT! WITH HAIR DONE! Can we say, No comfy traveling? That part stinks. I no likey.

I promise to post a more informative entry when I return. (quit laughing. seriously. you are hurting my feelings.) Have a great weekend!

Tom Cruise Didn't Kidnap Me

Hey, gang! Sorry for not updating sooner, but blahblahcrazyhecticlifeblahblah you have heard it all before. Here's a brief update:

My inlaws, the wonderful glorious helpful great people that they are, flew in a week ago Monday to help us pack up our house. They will then be driving our moving truck back to Idaho with us while we drive our car. These people, in addition to producing the most handsome man ever to be borned on the planet, are expert packers and organizers. They should seriously have their own show on HGTV called How To Move Properly. They are the bomb. (And they are all mine and no, I won't share. Until you put up with their son for sixteen years and give them grandchildren, they are not yours, so there.)

Anyway, my mom in law was packing up my kitchen the other day and said to me, "I need some more stuff for this box. Do you care if I get some living room stuff and put it in here with the kitchen stuff?" Now, ponder that for a moment....I replied, "I have someone willing to pack my house up, for free, who is also very nice and cares that my stuff doesn't get broken. And you are asking if I care what goes in what box? You could put my underwear in with the spices or my shoes in with my collander, and I WOULD.NOT.CARE." Isn't that like the Best Christmas/Birthday/GroundHog's Day Present Ever? Yes, am spoiled. Nyah,nyah,nyah.

They are also helping watch the kidlets while I am in California. I flew out on Sunday to come work in our company's head office and to attend a convention. IN.DISNEYLAND. Again, how cool is that? I don't return to MO until Saturday night late, which will make this one looooong week. I am having some fun, but work is pretty intense too. I took a beginning accounting class for about twelve hours over a two day period, and my brain has now officially become tapioca. Then on Saturday, I get to take a 200 question, four hour exam in order to get certified by the Grand Poobahs of Certification for People Who Do What I Do. There you go again with the envying me. Please stop. I'll try not to enjoy the test too much. (help me. please. come bust me out of here?)

We sign on our house on Monday and will be heading out to God's Country immediately following. We are very excited and happy and wanting to shake the dust of Missouri off our feet when we hit the border. ;)

Becki over at Nervous Girl was getting nervous that I hadn't posted in awhile and also hadn't emailed her to assure her that we didn't move to a commune that eschewed all outside contact. I guess I hadn't realized that many of you were still so concerned about Alison's well-being. Thanks for that, and she is great. She is doing all the things an almost three year old does, except in hyper-speed. Kinda like a lemur on crack drinking a Starbucks. She is fully recovered except for her scar.

But the child is so obviously traumatized by my absence, since she only has her father, brother, and doting grandparents to grant her every wish and wait on her hand and foot.

Example...my typical phone conversation with her since arriving in CA:

Ali: Hi, Mommy! You wokeing?

Me: Yes, baby, I am working. How are you?

Ali: I do fine. I pway blocks Daddy Zacky Grammi Papa! Uno Dos Tres Quatro Cinco Sayce! I count!

Me: Wow! That's so cool! You are so smart, honey! I love you.

Ali: I fuddy! I so siddy! You siddy too Mommy!

Me: Yes, I am silly too. I love you, punkin.

Ali: I eat cookies! Grammi cookies! I pway! I see Diego Dora show on tee-bees! I go now! Bye!

Me: (calling into an empty phone) I love you, baby girl!

Zack: It's me now, Mom. And I resent being called Baby Girl.

So clearly, the child will need serious therapy if I stay gone much longer...

Be good, you guys, and don't let anything too exciting happen in the next little bit, because I will be severely behind on reading all your blogs.

(insert really cool picture of me all tanned and toned dressed in island wear holding a virgin pina colada standing in front of a Disney statue. Because my days have been just like that. Well, except for the tanned and toned part. Oh, and the island wear part. And the virgin pina colada part. But I have drank plenty of Diet Coke. And I walked by some Disney statues. Okay, never mind. Go on back to your business, people. There's nothing to see here.)

I Hope You're Not Eating Anything...

The three sites with sutures sticking out are where the various chest tubes were...

The long scar above them is where the surgeon had to cut in between my baby's ribs in order to get to her lungs.

Keep in mind this picture is two weeks after surgery.

You can't see it here very well, but she had an IV line in her right arm in which she received antibiotics once a day. For a week. This is her AFTER the initial screaming and thrashing that occured every time we had to hook her up to the handy-dandy little machine there.

And the picture I didn't post was the one of me collapsed on the master bathroom floor in tears the day we brought her home from the hospital, after we tucked her into her nice warm bed with her favorite blanket and stuffed animals, and our house was all quiet and peaceful. And it fully hit me how very very close we came to losing our baby girl.

Alright, Already!

My friend Becki from over at Nervous Girl chastised me via email the other day for not posting the results of Alison's doctors appointment on Thursday, and rightfully so. I am sorry about the delay on getting the info out there, but this pesky little thing called life keeps standing in the way of my blogging. Sheesh, if these children would quit clamoring to be fed, maybe I could get some stuff done around here!

Seriously though, the appointment went very well. First we had to take her to the hospital to get a chest x-ray. This part did not go so smoothly. She was ushered back into the same room where she had previous x-rays during her hospital stay, and this did not set well. Poor thing was so nervous and upset that someone somewhere was going to poke at her or give her nasty medicine that she just plain freaked out. Not that I blamed her in the tiniest bit, because I was not all that jazzed to be back at the hospital either.

The xray showed that there is still some inflammation in the pleural lining around her lung, but that is very normal based on what she had. There is still a bit of pneumonia in her lung itself, but the doctor seems to think that this will be reabsorbed (um, yuck) back into her body. She did get her PICC line taken out, which means no more IV antibiotics. (and all God's children said AMEN for that bit of news!) She is still on her very nasty tasting Clindamycin for the next week, but that is such a small price to pay for her getting better.

The doctor who saw her while in the hospital, Dr M, is such a nice man. He is very gentle with kids and has a great bedside manner. But because he was one of the people in scrubs who kept coming in to poke, prod, look at, or otherwise bother Alison? She has major things against him. When he came into the exam room, she just closed her eyes and turned her head away from him with this whole, "You are dead to me" vibe. She would not answer or respond to him in any way. I guess she figured that if she ignored him, he would go away. It was quite hilarious to watch, and yet sad at the same time. My girl, who would normally be Miss BlahBlahStranger LetMeTalkYourEarOff Girl, now has Scrub Anxiety.

Last night, when she was being a little stinker and trying to lick her daddy's face, we realized that she is fully back to Pre-Hospitalized Ali Form. Her personality has come back full force, as has her energy level. I believe at one point my husband's comment was, "Did you give her crack?" (and in case you are wondering, No, I did not. I only give my children pot.) (I so fuddy.)

She has an appointment this Thursday with her surgeon. I may or may not at some point post pictures of what her little back looks like with the stitches and the scar and all that, you know, just to freak you out. I figure if we have to look at it and cringe, you should too. Because I said so.

And I am working on the hospital story for a later posting. And by later posting, well, you know what I mean. And by working on it, I mean I am thinking about writing it in between doing laundry and eating all the food in my house. Because I have priorities, people.

Thank God for Stupid Criminals

...and observant people.

On March 12 when our car was stolen out of our garage, another couple in our neighborhood had their car stolen the same night. They too left the garage door open by mistake and left a spare set of keys in their car. This young couple in their twenties came to see us the afternoon after our cars were stolen to compare notes and find out if we knew anything they didn't about the situations. I think their names are Tiffany and J-something, so I will call him Jeff for sake of this story.

Tiffany and Jeff live around the corner from us. In fact you can see their house when you stand in our back yard. They were very sweet and we really enjoyed talking to them. We have seen them a few times around the neighborhood since the theft, and always stop to say hi and find out if the sheriff has ever contacted them again. We were both told that once your car gets stolen in this county, you probably won't see it again. The only way they usually find stolen cars around here is to get a tip, or to stumble upon it abandoned on one of the over 500 miles of country road that make up the county. So yeah, neither one of us were expecting to ever see our vehicles again.

Today, Tiffany and Jeff were out in their yard when they looked up to see a lady drive by in a Lincoln that looked surprisingly like theirs. Jeff remarked to his wife, 'Honey, that looks like our car.' The lady had a few kids in the back seat and was driving very slowly through the neighborhood, looking carefully at houses. It was only about a minute later that Jeff realized that it was in fact their car the lady was driving! T and J hopped in their car and followed the lady while contacting the police. The lady realized she was being followed and floored it, losing our amateur crimefighters. Due to their quick thinking, the lady was soon surrounded by about five sheriffs vehicles and was soon made a guest of the county.

After recovering their car, T and J made their way to our house to notify us that we could probably expect to hear about our car too. At the same time that was happening, I was driving and received a call from a captain with the sheriff's office that went something like this:

Captian: Did you folks recently report your car stolen?

Me: Yes, sir, we did.

Captain: Well, I am standing right here looking at it!

Me: YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!!! YAY!!!!

Captain: I now need hearing aids....

Okay, just kidding on that last sentence. But seriously, how cool is that? Our car was abandoned in a apartment complex parking lot in the north side of town far far from where we live. Apparently, the "lady" who was driving the Lincoln? She first proclaimed that she had no idea the car she was driving was stolen, it must have been the work of her son! (nice way to throw your kid under the bus, sister.) But after further questioning, she admitted that she knew where our car was, that the battery had been taken out of it so that another car could be stolen, and oh by the way, here's the keys that go to that car. The woman was driving around with my keys in her purse! What a moron! And who cruises the neighborhood you stole a car from...in the stolen car?! In broad daylight?! I would so make a better criminal than that.

So we loaded the kids into our new used car and warp-speeded it over to the apt complex to pick up our old used car. It has some scratches in the paint that look like they drove it through a field and there is slight dent in the door. Alison's carseat is missing, as are our CDs. But you know what? I don't really care. We have our car back. We did not lose $5700 like we thought we did. A stolen car ring has been busted, thanks to the quick actions of our neighbors. Who sooo will be getting a nice gift certificate from us soon.

So at last, a happy ending to one chapter in the drama of our lives since moving to Missouri. How wonderful. Thank you, Lord for answering prayers and watching out for your children, even when we whine.

Now we don't have to depend upon Buzz to give us a lift in his spaceship.

Ali Update Part Deux

Alison is home! She was discharged on Saturday, for which we are so thankful. She loves being at home, but hasn't reverted back to her normal self yet. She is still very cautious, not as talkative, and uses only her left hand as her right arm has an IV port, or PICC line, in it. She's not eating much, but more than she did in the hospital. She is drinking alot and staying hydrated, so that's a good sign.

We have a doctor's appt on Thursday. They will do another chest xray (about her tenth) to determine if the pneumonia is completely gone or not. If so, then we can stop the IV antibiotics that we have to administer every day. She will still be on oral antibiotics (that taste like absolute crapola) for at least another week.

Then, on April 10th, she has an appt with the surgeon who did her thoracotomy. He will take out the stitches and determine if everything is going okay. Hopefully, after all this, we will have no more encounters with doctors for awhile.

Some of you have emailed me questions about how Alison's sickness came to be, and what the complications were. I will do a post later in the week detailing what happened and our experience in the hospital. (And by "later in the week", I really mean whenever I get a chance. You knew that, right?)

Our girl is doing so much better and we are happy to have her home with us where she belongs. On Saturday while driving home, I looked at my husband and said, "Do you realize this is the first time in seven days that all four of us have been in the car at the same time?" and I almost started crying. This experience has been even worse than pregnancy in terms of getting my emotions all crazyfied.

Have a good week, everybody. I know I will because my Sweet Girl is home. Everything else will just be gravy.

Ali Update

Alison is off the ventilator...good.

Alison still has two chest tubes...bad.

Alison realizes she has chest tubes and wants to pull them out...bad.

Alison's surgeon thinks everything looks great and wants to discharge her on Saturday...good.

Alison will have to have IV antibiotics for 10 days to 2 weeks after discharge...bad.

Alison's mommy and daddy will have to give them to her twice a day....really bad.

Alison is on pain medication....very very good.

Alison became combatative and loopy last night because of a medication she was overly sensitive to...bad.

Alison's doctor changed the medication and she received a dose of happy juice that ended her three and a half hour tirade....very very unbelievably good.

Alison soon gets to come home and be with her mommy, daddy, and big brother..........out of this world good.

Alison's mommy has the best friends in the world who pray for a little girl they may have never seen in person......also out of this world good.

Answered Prayers

Alison came through the surgery like a champ and the surgeon was able to remove all the gunk from her lung area. She is currently on a ventilator, but will be removed from that tomorrow morning sometime. She has so much medicine in her little body right now that I know she is feeling no pain, but seeing her in this condition hurts the three of us more than anything. We are thanking God that the surgery went well and she is on her way to a full recovery with no lasting side effects. All your prayers made a difference.

We know she is receiving excellent care. We know she is right where she needs to be to get over this horrible pneumonia related illness. We know that trained medical professionals are watching her 24/7 with nothing on their minds but getting her well. We know all this.

But what I also know? Is that I will crawl into an empty bed tonight, because my bestest friend slash husband is at the hospital spending the night on a folding cot in a room across the hall from the Pediatric ICU because my curly-headed little girl is breathing through a ventilator that makes her sound like Darth Vader. My baby is not at my house, in her bed, being watched over by loving parents and a brother who loves her with all his heart. I know that I won't get woken up by her calls of "Maaaaahm! I nee apple juice!" at three am. I know that she won't be here in the morning, waking me up too early all because she "nee to watcha show!" I know this, and it breaks my heart.

But thank you, all of you, for your prayers and support and listening and all of it during this time. You are the bestest peoples ever. Your comments, phone calls and emails have made a world of difference in this hard time. To quote my daughter, "I wuv you duys!"

Alison should be in the hospital for at least five more days. Please continue to pray for her speedy full recovery and for fortitude for us.

Thanks again,
Missie

Baby Girl Update

Hi everyone. This is Missie's friend Robyn posting for her- it looks like Ali will have surgery today to get all the crap out of her lung. Unfortunately, the stuff is too thick to drain, so they will have to remove it surgically.

It's never easy to see a loved one in a hospital, but there is a special level of stress when it is your small child. Missie said Ali had so many tubes and wires coming out of her she could pick up pay-per-view. She is asking again for your prayers and good thoughts. For those of you who are so minded, please join me:

Father God, we ask now that You be with Ali, to comfort her in her pain and fear. We ask You to help the surgeon; to guide his hands and give him supernatural wisdom, and to surround the medical team in every aspect of this operation from pre-op to post-op. And thank You for sending the Holy Spirit, our comforter, to give Missie, Roger, and Zach the peace that passes understanding. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Pray, Y'all...

We had to admit Alison into the hospital last night.

She has a pleural effusion around her lungs, which basically means a bunch of infected fluidy-type stuff has taken up residence there and needs to be drained. Which means my baby is going to have a chest tube put in this afternoon. I am 37 and I have never had a chest tube. Happy Easter.

Anyway, if you could see fit to take a minute and pray for my daughter, I would so appreciate it. She is going from a regular room to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit today. That is so hard to type. My baby should not be in any care unit but mine at home.

Please pray for my husband and son also, that they can handle this strain and stress and deal with their schooling too. Pray for me that I can go with no sleep for much longer, because I have a feeling that's what it's coming to. Just...just pray, please.

Thank you for reading this very disjointed and rambling post. I am out of sorts because my baby girl isn't here jumping on my lap and getting all in my grill 24/7. She should be overdosing on Easter candy and getting dressed up in a frilly dress for church right now, not be hooked up to IV antibiotics and wearing a faded hospital gown. This is not how Easter should be. I am whining and I am sorry.

Going to take a shower now and pack stuff to head back to the hospital. Please Lord, give me strength. And heal my baby. Thank You.

Ripley Won't Believe It...

Since I last posted, the following things have happened...

My flu progressed to pneumonia, requiring me to try to find a doctor here who would take a very sick new patient..

My daughter's cold progressed to pneumonia, requiring chest xrays, blood work, expensive prescriptions, etc...

My husband's flu progressed to a killer sinus infection which required me calling his walk in clinic doctor about four times to get a reasonably priced prescription...(did I mention we have no health insurance?)

Our car was stolen out of our garage. Pneumonia Girl left the keys in the ignition and we forgot to shut the garage door...Because it was a used car with about 100K miles on it, we only had liability coverage. Yeah. Digest that for a minute.

We found out that homeowners' insurance does not cover the theft of your own car...

We listed our house and sold it in four hours...

We are on our way back to Idaho, otherwise known as The Land We Should Not Have Left, at the end of April...

I realize this sounds like a bad Lifetime Original Movie, but yes, this has been our life for the past two weeks. Try not to envy me. It doesn't look good on you.

Sick Freak

Last Monday, I came down with the flu. Not to be left out, on Tuesday, my husband joined me. Yesterday, our son had a temperature of 102. As of now, our daughter is just onery, not sickly.

My friends, I am here to testify that this strain of the flu, KICKMYBUTTUS in Latin, is horrendous. Fever, chills, aches--check. Coughing, runny nose, head filled with cotton--check. Fatigue so intense that it makes the early days of my pregnancies look like I was running on espresso? Check. This is the worst sickness I have had in probably my entire adult life. While my husband and I are finally on the mend, we have heard from our doctor that some people are taking up to two weeks to get over this. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it once you get it--other than ride it out.

Oh, and in case you don't hear about this in the news, because you really won't---the flu shot will not protect you this year, because the shot was for a different strain other than the one currently spreading across the country.

Please everybody....wash your hands frequently, stay away from anyone remotely sick, and get plenty of Vitamin C. You really really really do not want this.

Stay healthy, my friends. I will be back when I recover fully. (physically...we aren't waiting for the mental recovery, because that could be awhile.)

p.s. We aren't contagious anymore, so if anyone wants to come help me with the Laundry Pile That Can Be Seen From Space, let me know.

Real Life Conversations

Setting: Living room, night, watching tv with Son, see commercial for eHarmony.

Son: Mom, if they have eHarmony, do they have eDivorces, too?

Me: Why did you think of that?

Son: (stands up in front of the television) Hi, I'm Dr. Clark Warren Neal, founder of eDivorces. Remember when you signed up to that online dating service and thought you'd find the love of your life? Remember how it was great for a few months and then you got married? Remember how he wasn't as great as you thought and actually he's really a meanie? Sign up now for eDivorces dot com to get rid of a person you never should have married anyway because you didn't know him well enough. (Son then begins dancing around the room in parody of the happy couples singing, "I'm divorced now! I'm done with you!")

Me: Out of the mouths of babes.

Setting: Husband, Girl Child, and Me in the car, driving home from eating Indian food, passing by a church with a billboard that reads...

Me: "Make Jesus your valentine"?

Hub: Wow. Boy. Not good.

Me: What's next, "Make Jesus your Easter Bunny"?

Hub: Or what about "Make Jesus your Jack-o-lantern"?

Me: "Make Jesus Your Veteran"? You know, this would not work with every holiday.

Hub: "Make Jesus Your President"?

Me: "Make Jesus Your Santa"?

(After laughter dies down...)

Hub: We're not that funny really.

Me: No. No we are not.

Setting: My sister in law's kitchen, whole family assembled, mother in law and I are discussing our trip to New Orleans in 2005.

Me: I think we flew on Delta.

MomInLaw: No, we flew on that other one.

Me: American?

MIL: No, we flew on Bob.

Me: Bob? There is no airline called Bob.

MIL: Well, it was something like Bob.

Me: Do you mean TED? Like in United's regional line?

MIL: Yeah, maybe it was TED.

Setting: Our apartment in California, circa 2001. My parents are down for Christmas and my dad wants to see a certain Navy movie that just came out.

My Mom: Do you think Roger would want to go to the movie with Dad?

Me: I'm not sure. What movie is it?

MM: Some movie about some war.

Me: Oookay...That's a little vague. Who's in it?

MM: Robert de Niro and that other guy.

Me: That narrows it down. Does the other guy have a name?

MM: Oh, what is it?......I know! Scooby Dooba!

Me: Scooby Dooba? Who in the heck is Scooby Dooba?!

MM: He's that nice looking young black man who was in that one movie with Tom Something about sports.

Me: Do you mean Cuba Gooding Jr?

MM: (smiling) Yeah, that's him. I knew you knew who I was talking about.

I am soooo not related to any of these people...

Soup, Mmmmm Good!

I love soup. Really really love soup. A steaming hot bowl of broccoli-cheddar? A mug full of real Oregon Coast clam chowder with a pat of butter melting on top? A trough full of spicy chili with a side of cornbread? All guaranteed to make my heart go pitter-patter. (And unfortunately, to make my stomach and thighs go "flibber-flabber".)

"Shoup? You has shoup? Whatchu talkin' bout, Willis?"

My great-grandfather was a cook in the Navy. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of going to his house for lunch and being presented with a huge bowl of split-pea and ham soup so thick you could stand your spoon up in it.

Soup is such a comfort food, such a pick-me-up and make-me-feel-all-is-well-again food. But if you are like me, most of the soup you ingest comes from a can. There are some really good canned soups out there (Progresso's Light Southwest comes to mind), but there is nothing that says home and hearth quite like a bowl of homemade soup.

Today, I made this recipe given to me at a Weight Watchers meeting. Quick, easy, and oh so good. And only 1 point a cup.

Try it this week, and let me know what you think.

Super Easy Potato Soup

3 cans chicken broth

1 pkg Country Gravy Mix

1 pkg (28oz) O'Brien style frozen potatoes

Mix the broth and gravy mix together in a large pot. Add potatoes. Heat until boiling, then bring down to simmer. Cook for approx 15 minutes, or until potatoes are cooked through.

Eat and enjoy.

This would also be great with sandwiches or as a snack for kids after school to warm them up.





"Zacky eat all shoup! No shoup for Ali? Waaaaaah!"

If your laxative label reads "24% more medicine than before"...

You should totally believe it.

Weekend Update

I am down 1.6 lbs as of last Wednesday.

I ate a bunch of fudge this weekend.

The fudge wasn't even that good.

I took a long hard look at my stomach a few days ago.

My eyes are still blurry with tears.

I worked out twice in the last four days, then walked about two miles on Saturday, then took Sunday off.

My keister and thighs still hurt.

I bought a great shirt at Coldwater Creek this weekend for $20, only to bring it home and discover it is too big.

Yay on the too big.

I called the store to find out if they had a smaller one.

Um, no. Waaah.

I made a very simple recipe I saw Paula Deen demonstrate. Only four ingredients. Looked delicious.

In reality? Not so much. Waaah again.

Still need to finish painting the "What Happens in Vegas, Stays In Vegas" Red bathroom.

House still not organized to my liking.

Will have husband help color my hair tonight.

Pray, y'all.

The end.

Laugh With Me

Wanna hear something funny?

'mKay, so this woman goes into Weight Watchers, like 2 years ago almost. And she pays all this money and she loses weight, like say, oh 17 pounds or so. And then, she goes off of Weight Watchers and tries to do it herself, on her own, since she's so smart and she's lost all this weight already and she has the materials and she knows how to do this and why pay this huge company any more money?

And then the woman's father dies, she has to take multiple business trips, she moves across the country, then faces the holidays. The woman realizes that "hey, this whole doing it on my own thing is not working out so hot for me, so let's rejoin WW!" Then the woman goes to her first meeting yesterday and gets weighed in...only to discover she has regained twelve of the seventeen pounds she lost. TWELVE, people! Twelve!!!!!! That is one more than eleven, one less than thirteen.

Laugh with me, my friends, lest I cry by myself.

My Precioussssss

Oh, my darling, my dearest! I have waited so long to finally be with you. Here you are in my home at last where I can gaze upon your beauty at my leisure and bask in your warm glow. I promise to care for you and cherish you as a mother would for her child, because lo, you cost about as much. And now, I shall share pictures of you with my internets so that they too can be amazed by your gloriousness....

You came to me empty, but I filled you with treasures that have been hidden away under a bushel (okay, in a box) for many years...

Ignore the jealous whisperings of the Dyson, my dear! She realizes her days in the sun as my favorite possession are over...

Everything else looks like garbage waiting in the corner to be taken out compared to you, my pretty.

Edja-mah-cayshun

Some of you who know me in real life have probably picked up on one of my major character traits...I tend to be organized. Not anal-retentive, have a schedule for every day planned to the minute, any deviation in plan results in a breakdown organized, but just fairly organized. I tend to know what is going on, when this thing needs to happen, what I need to do to facilitate it, etc. I plan. I write stuff down. I love my calendar. Just saying.

So it would follow that since we are moving our children across the country, and one of them chilluns will need to transfer schools, that I would get on that before the move. In early December, I called the middle school that my son would be attending here. I explained to the nice receptionist who answered that I needed to enroll my son IN SIXTH GRADE and could I please speak to someone who could help me? She transferred me to the counselor and I left a message on her voice mail.

Fast forward to about 2.5 weeks later. I still hadn't gotten a call back from anyone at this middle school. The reason I had not noticed this sooner was because, hello, moving, packing, working, taking care of a toddler. I called again about December 18, so I could get the info I needed before everyone cleared out for the Christmas holidays. Again, no call back.

Now, if you ever want to make me angry at you? If you ever want me to track you down like a dirty dog and run you over with my big big truck? Then be in some sort of business or service organization and have your job be to HELP PEOPLE and have a stinking voice mail where people can LEAVE MESSAGES FOR A CALL BACK with a nice little recording telling me how my call is important to you....then never call me back. That is guaranteed to tick me off bigtime.

Anyway, someone finally called me back last Thursday. And informed me that my son would not be attending the middle school...he would be attending the INTERMEDIATE SCHOOL. Which in Missouri, is where fifth and sixth graders go. All this time, I have been calling the middle school, because stupid me has never heard of a goofy thing called an Intermediate School. And the receptionist at the middle school never told me any different. Ugh. So first big annoyance there.

But is that the end of your story, you ask? Why no, it's not. For lo, that would be too easy. I called the Intermediate school on Friday and spoke with a lady I shall call T. I verified with T what records I would need to bring with my child when I registered him, etc. She told me that they were open on Friday until 4pm, or I could just register him on Monday. We decided to wait until Monday since my husband had his orientation for seminary on Friday and would have barely gotten home in time for us to get our son out to the school to register him.

I load my son up in the car with all the accompanying records today for the 40 minute drive to the school. Gee, that seems like a long way for him to go to school, you say. And yes, I would agree. Except the school is actually only about 12 minutes away....if you know where you are going. Which thanks to Googlemaps and the Missouri Dept of Transportation, I did not. Suffice it to say that when a street has more than one name, let's say like Farm Road 666 and Doghouse Road, and one name is listed on Googlemaps but the other name is listed on the street sign, it makes for an interesting little drive.

We finally arrived at said Intermediate School and proceeded to get the Zman registered. I was getting ready to leave and asked the other receptionist, whom I shall call R, "Can he just pay for his lunch today in cash and I will send a check for a month's worth of lunches tomorrow?" She blinked owlishly at me and stated, "Oh, he can't stay today. We have a 24 hour rule that children cannot attend school the same day they are registered. We need time to get the books, desk, schedule, etc ready. He can come tomorrow."

What the ? Have you ever heard of such a stupid rule? And by the way, why didn't the first receptionist I spoke with on Friday, WHO HAPPENED TO BE SITTING RIGHT THERE TWO FEET FROM WHERE I WAS STANDING, tell me this? Why is it not listed anywhere on the school's website? I felt like an idiot, as did my poor boy who was sitting there with his backpack all loaded up and raring to go to class. I have never in my life been to or heard of an elementary or middle school that would not let a child attend until 24 hours after he was registered. It's not like they need to do a criminal background check--I am trying to get my kid educated, not buy a handgun. Sheesh.

And to add insult to stupidity, you cannot arrange for your child to ride the bus at the school. You must call an entirely separate entity, the Transportation Department, and deal with a slightly snotty lady who promises to call you back, doesn't make said call, then gets snippy when you call her back to ask if she has the bus number and pickup times yet. "I have four pages of children I need to look up, and we are taking them as they come!" Well, sister, I have a boy here who is now down one more day of school because of your goofy district and it's rules and it's employees that don't call people back or give them the correct information when they do, so don't mess with me.

Anyway, sorry for the rant. Here are pictures.

Boy dressed up for first band concert. He's also available to do your taxes for a small fee.

The curly girl.

As Seen On TV

Last night as my family and I were trying to find something worth watching on our seventy-odd channels of cable, we came across this description of a movie on the TVGuide Channel:

"Hitcher 2--A cop once again picks up a psychotic hitchhiker"

Because the first time certainly wouldn't have taught you a lesson...