3:55 AM - Bold (Nude) and Senile
Current mood: forgetful
Category: forgetful Blogging
This blog is dedicated to my dear friend, Scott, who recently celebrated a birthday, but most importantly who will always be young at heart...
There's delight in growing old. I think it has something to do with the fact that as you age, the less you care what people think. Some call it bold...others senile. Personally I think it's kind of nice being in either end zone.
Take for instance, our new neighbors. I was talking to "Liz" (named changed to protect the bold and senile) the other morning:
LIZ: Yup, I hired a Mexican to clear our yard. I knew where to find them. $100. It's great. ME: Oh... LIZ: He said he'd leave his phone number in case I have other jobs for him to do. If you need work in your yard, I'd be happy to give you his number. ME: Ok...thanks. *Wondering if she'd stop by on occasion to ask for a pedicure or to solve a complex mathematical equation.*
God love our new neighbors in our quiet suburban town. They are really good people at heart. Yes, God love our neighbors...um...and their hot tub. You heard me. You know how they cleared the back yard? Let's just say that Adam and Eve should have at least left a burning bush. Apple anyone?
Oh, and speaking of nudity. Since we were...
There's nothing like minding your own business - pushing the stroller, talking to your daughter - and getting stopped in the department store by the woman with a tape measure around her neck. Ahem... The woman with a tape measure around her neck; she mysteriously appears out of nowhere? You have no idea what the heck I'm talking about? Certainly you must be a man!
Yes, instead of being hunch-back and sunken-eyed, she was a pretty blonde with a kind smile. Ten minutes later I was in the back room, lingerie undone and being coaxed into black lace. Ten minutes after that I was standing at the register handing over my VISA card, not knowing what really happened.
Hubby is either going to flip out *looking at receipt*... or rejoice. Hey, at least for my purchase I donated $4 to the Susan G. Komen Foundation for the Cure. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Like Joe Biden says, "Let me say that again." There's delight in growing old.
Currently
listening
:
Amnesiac
By
Radiohead
Release date: 2001-06-05
7:50 PM - MOTIVATED MONDAYS - Why Monday Panties are always dirty...
Current mood: rebellious
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
Ever have one of those clocks that didn't have a snooze button? It would go off, you'd slam it against the wall and then have to explain how your clock "malfunctioned". (Expressed with finger quotes as you explained to co-workers of course). How did our parents ever survive without the "big bump on the top of the clock"? I mean, they walked miles in the hail and snow, they only got paid $27 a week...but not having a snooze button? Torture at its cruelest!
Mondays are the days when we love our snooze button the most. Except for those that have to work Saturdays. Or those who have the night shift on the weekend. Ok, so maybe Mondays aren't so bad when you put it that way.
Kids look at Mondays so differently than adults do. My daughter rubbed her eyes as day broke today, sat up in bed and said, "Mommy, I love Mondays." She then proceeded to tell me how she was going to wear her "Monday panties". (You know, the ones kids have with the days of the week on them. Who thought of this insane gimmick? Whenever it's a certain day of the week, it never fails that the day you're looking for is in the dirty clothes!) Maybe I'd like Mondays better if I had a pair of Monday panties... Of course my daughter then began to cry because she couldn't find her "Monday panties". Maybe this is why people grow up not liking Mondays. The "Monday panties" could never be found. It's always the Mother's fault. Darn! Society IS right!
I think if adults could look at Mondays differently, things would be different. Of course if corporations would grant the "come into work at 11:00am" on Mondays, there might be less grumbling from the masses. Seriously...Why do Fridays get all the fun? After all, it's always "Casual Friday"... Fred, in accounting, gets to Hang 10 in his red and yellow (aka...ugly) Hawaiian shirt while reimbursing Tisha in her 80's spandex. Hopefully all takes place out of the fax room. Ever notice how "Casual Friday" is begging for a visit from Stacy London and Clinton Kelly? Just sayin...
So, snooze hitters of the world...unite! For today you have the freedom to pound and slam as you never have before. Whether you're a conservative Republican on the heels of McCain, or a "change seeker" (not pennies mind you) holding a free bumper sticker and screaming "Obama" at the top of your lungs, you have the choice. You, with that stuff that Mama called "sleep" in your eyes. You, with drool on your pillow and a left over migraine from red hot buffalo wings at the church get-to-gether. YOU have the choice! Rejoice!
*MEDICAL ADVISEMENT - After rejoicing and hitting the "modern marvel" sixteen million times, find those dirty "Monday Panties", get dressed and hurry your coffee-stained trousers to the office before you are LATE!!!!
(Welcome to another Monday.)
----------- The author of this blog does not take responsibility for writing and posting past the time that everyone is actually completed with the work day. Apparently her snooze button (and "Monday Panties") were no where to be found.
10:40 PM - Don’t let the door hit you on the way out...
Current mood: ninja
Category: Blogging
Over the past several weeks I've really tried to be more patient...more relaxed... Less of the "OMG I'm so high-strung that I'm going to take my sandal off and whack it against my head now!" and more of the "Oh, I see. Thanks for that tidbit of information" *fake smile*.
I thought I was doing well until last night. I couldn't even sit through dinner at home without wondering why the heck everyone was chewing their food like they were an honorable guest at The Last Supper. Seriously, I saw more jaw action at our table than those happy California cows could provide... in a decade.
Then this morning it hit me. (Not the shoe mind you). I'm frantic over this pending contract with our home. Thoughts of shacking up in an Extended-Stay are not doing much for zen thoughts of serenity and solitude. Even if I took a yoga class and I was able to perfectly align my Chakra somehow (yeah...whatever!), I fear I'd give up on downward dog and rebel with a trip to Starbucks. And God hold me back, because a double-shot of espresso is NOT what I need right now. Unless you want demolition on that property you hope to flip. Seriously, that could be arranged.
I'm also livid over the fact that Madison's school removed us from the waiting list and now I might have to home-school for another year. What's that you say, "you'll attract flies with honey". *You shrink shrink back and cower* Listen *grabbing you by the collar*, I've stolen Winnie the Pooh's big old honey pot and I'm running around town shouting, "Nah nah nah nah boo boo". I'm in THAT kind of mood. I know, certainly not the type of honey you're talking about. So sue me.
I think becoming a Mom makes you this way. Crazy. I was never this way before I had a kid. My blood pressure looks like one of those cheap Big Lot thermometers laying outside on a hot Nevada day. You know, the one right next to the fried egg on the black asphalt? Heck even an entire bar of Hershey's can't quell the sparks of fire surging out of the top of my head. I'm able to make Smores, but not sit cross-legged and say, "Ohm". I have a problem with that.
I think the restlessness also comes with the fact that Madison is in school right now and I'm bored out of my mind...waiting. Something I've never been good at. You know how business men flippantly say, "Well, if this merger isn't going to happen, it's not going to happen" *leaning back in their leather chair...waiting for the next guy's move*...? Let's just say, I like to get things done. Bing Bam Boom... You want it or you don't. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.
I'm not sure about you, but I'm not into lolly-gagging and laying amongst a field of daisies. Naked or not. Deciphering depictions of bunnies and dragons in the clouds just makes me look at my watch...and I won't do it secretly either. Someone says it's the Asian woman in me. Nature vs. Nurture I suppose, because as you know I put the Asian in Caucasian. Hand me a bowl of sticky rice and perhaps I can be stalled to see a hippo floating in the sky. I'll lie for high glucose levels. After all, that's my drug of choice.
Seriously, one word, "Agggggh". (And that wasn't a pirate. Oh wait...that would have been "Arrrgh". Nevermind.)
*update: It's gotten so bad, I had to put my running shoes on... I'm not sure if I'm running away, or just need a little more "spring action"*
3:07 PM - Bigger and better. Round 4...
Current mood: intense
Category: Blogging
Well, three wasn't the charm. Apparently 50-50 isn't such a hot percentage for us. We lost the house to someone with a higher bid. I'm not sure how. Even our Realtor was a bit surprised... *sigh* We're going out to see another house this afternoon. Bigger and better. I'm optimistic. *ding* Round 4.
On another note, there's reason why I never chose a career walking the trading floors on Wallstreet. Aside from the fact that I was more interested in any geek doused in Polo who sat near me in High School Math 101 than finding the square foot of 12, and that living in a 893 square foot box of an apartment has never peaked my interest, that is.
The past couple of days I've been on edge. I'm in the midst of cashing in some stocks to help coddle a little nest egg for our new home, and I've found that watching CNBC is like a white pill. For some that white pill might be speed, for me...it's simply aspirin. Anyway you look at it...it gets your heart beating. I know, I'm a lightweight. What of it?
Regardless, all I know is that as I get older and my blood pressure rises, there are things I probably shouldn't do. Dreaming about the upcoming Blackberry Bold, debating about politics or religion and eating starchy and fatty foods are ranking pretty high these days. Add nailbiting arrows bouncing from green to red...then red to green...and all I can say is that there is definitely a reason I never chose a career walking the trading floors on Wallstreet.
7:45 PM - I’m not a drip. No really...there IS one somewhere in the room.
Current mood: bummed
Category: Blogging
It's almost 11pm and low and behold, there's a "drip, drip, drip" coming from the bathroom. Assuming it's the cat playing in the toilet water, I roll my eyes and sigh. As I walk into the bathroom I notice that the cat was sitting right next to me on the sofa. "Was" as in...until I got up. Sorry Butterbutt, apparently my pumpkin (and brain) turns mush when the clock strikes 10.
Pumpkin, as in...the 4 bedroom we're living in. A saving grace..yes, despite the lack of treble reverberating the walls from the foursome next door. College. Gotta love it...ten plus years ago that is.
The "drip, drip, drip" isn't the sink faucet, nor the tub faucet. And then it hits me. Literally. I'm standing in a pool of murky water as I'm bombarded by water pellets falling from...the ceiling. I grab a dishpan, but today's modern marvel (from Tarje') has rounded corners and doesn't quite reach the drips...dropping in the corner.
As I stand there with a piece of popcorn ceiling on my nose, two tunes spring into my noggin:
- There's a hole in my Bucket...dear Liza...dear Liza. (everybody in unison now...)
And...
- The roof...the roof...
I don't know why the last one came up. Maybe it's because I know there's so much mold in that ceiling that I assume they'll have to set it on fire to kill it all. When I awake in a bubble with air tanks (like a scene from ET) I'll scream, "I told you so". I'll make sure I post a picture though. It'll be a laugh for all at least. Much obliged.
Mold. It's not a friend. Just sayin'... No really..I'm not a drip, but there IS a drip somewhere in the room. Hey, anyone got a square to spare?
2:00 AM - Three is a charm?
Current mood: froggy
Category: Blogging
I'd like to meet the person that quoined the phrase, "Three's a charm." Sure Shannon Doherty had a good run on WB with her bewitching girly threesome, but just like most things when it comes to a remote in hand, there's a fine line between reality and La La Land. Ask the same question to new parents of ..3.. and they'll tell you how charming the number really is...before daybreak that is.
Yep, last Thursday we put a bid in on our third house. Now, before you go all spaztastical on me, know that the first two houses needed work. Unlike 7 elderly male midgets communing in the woods, the work meant more than singing a little tune of "Hi Ho" and wearing a droopy hat. Hubby works in education you know, not the financial industry. Yeah...I know, darn. In any case, the third one we offered top dollar...plus. There comes a time when you offer everything in hopes that everything is enough. We should have an answer soon. "Soon" as in, long enough for the memories of grenadine, vodka, blue curaçao and sirloins to wear off. Wear off the bank executive handling the big decision that is. All ..3.. of us (in our family) had to cancel out on some great company, conversation and fireworks to play host to a fever and bad cough.
So...I'll continue to do what I definitely don't do best. It seems that I'm in the same situation as I was in last Monday. Whoever said patience is a virtue, doesn't know that I'm bursting out of every seam. Of course, I did just pick up a pair of North Face running shoes (Look ma, no laces!) to help out those seams. Just sayin'.
So what happens if we don't get this house? Not sure. We're posting requests for refrigerator boxes that we can link together with duct tape. I'm thinking it will take .....3...
Why doesn't the week start on a Tuesday? Why don't we get paid on Mondays? After all, the Bangles were convinced that Mondays weren't as fun as Sunday...and that was over 10 years ago, when religion meant a solemn face and a hymn from a dilapidated hymn book. So, what is it about rainy days and Mondays that always gets everyone down? (Nope...don't get it about rainy days either.)
Maybe Mondays are despised so much because most people go back to work. But really, if you're not looking forward to returning to work, doesn't it just mean it might be time to check the classifieds? Need a new boss? Need a challenge or two? It's not the day of the week. It's life in general. Moms walking their children to school at the crack of dawn aren't holding a cup of Starbucks because they don't like Mondays...are they? I mean, I always figured they just wanted to liven up so they could be the early bird at the clearance sales. Oh wait...Mondays usually aren't known for their red and white signs. Score 1 for Friday. I'm beginning to see your point.
I think that Mondays are synonymous with dread because everyone complains how they are tired and didn't get much sleep over the weekend. But couple that with recaps of weekend rendezvous and vacation getaways, and Mondays are a great day for you to boast about your co-worker's financial shortcomings. Note how great of a domino effect this can be too. How "Neil" at the front desk feels...I'm not so sure. But it's Monday. Buy him lunch to brighten his day. See, Mondays aren't so bad. For Neil now anyways. Unless his lactose intolerance kicked in after he ate your grilled cheese and broccoli cheddar soup from the deli on 5th. Neil's not happy...and well...the whole office smells like Apple Mountain Lysol.
Did you get your thumb tacked by the stapler? Were you blinded by the copier machine when you didn't put the lid down...or worse...you shook the toner cartridge and it exploded? Did you get sprayed by the automatic toilet as it flushed as you sat in despair, holding your head in hand...reaching out in sympathy only to realize there was no square to spare for the derriere? Blame it on the "M word". It's accepted at studios, home offices and corporate headquarters worldwide.
Ok, so now you've heard the ad. Is there truth behind this one though?
8:03 AM - Peachy thoughts...
Current mood: blessed
Category: Blogging
There's something about this place that makes life a little more enjoyable. Most people we ask say it's pure southern hospitality; and even without a rocking chair and a glass of homemade lemonade in hand, I can attest that it's more than just the water. Maybe our egos were brutality beaten by grumpy grannies that rolled their eyes when you stood in their path? "Oye Ve" they would shout at me, hands clenching air as they shot lightening bolts out of their eye sockets in a typical South Florida fashion. Surprisingly no cape or villainous cackle accompanied any of the tantrums, but every once in a while you'd catch a throat full of a Neiman Marcus scent (clearance of course) and that would be just as bad.
Life isn't necessarily slower paced here, people just have more patience. When the traffic light turns green, you aren't immediately handed your license plate on a silver platter from a guy who rear ended you; and honking isn't more than a way to say, "Hey neighbor. You and the family are coming over for dinner on Friday...right?" In fact, if the guy at the green light suddenly keeled over, most likely the line of cars would just wait until the funeral procession began...minus flips, birds or four letter words.
There's not an incessant need to buy bigger and have better than everyone else. Everyone just kind of accepts everyone else for who they are, and what they stand for. Kind of like the Who that Horton heard...well, afterwards anyways.
In any case, Jeff just signed up for his pension plan. So, that means we're committed to peaches for a minimum of 10 years. Hmmm...I think I can handle that.
Just sayin'.
Currently
listening
:
Georgia on My Mind
By
Ray Charles
Release date: 2005-02-21
4:37 AM - MOTIVATED MONDAYS - A load of mashed potatoes???
Current mood: determined
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
No. I didn't fall off the face of the earth. I might have tripped walking up the front steps this morning but I'm still here; slightly injured with my pen intact. Again, I am sorry for the "out of ink" sign that invisibly swung on "Motivated Mondays" during our move...
I am, indeed, living out of U-haul boxes whilst our family searches for a home in this lovely town in the burbs. We're shacked up in a four bedroom temporary apartment and every night at 12:30am, "Lil Wayne" (and his posse with big bass) pounds the question, "Why am I living on campus in my mid-30's?) I close my eyes to be transported to Shrek's Kingdom, "Far far away" in hopes my head doesn't explode. I know, I have the patience of 2-year-old pressed up against the ice cream case in August, but then again I'm not a fan of Lil Wayne (and his possee with big bass).
Let's just say there is nothing like feeling like the old fogey next to the "party room". I repeatedly chant, "It's all an adventure...It's all an adventure..." but I'm pretty sure that's to ensure I don't become an alcoholic. Of course, if at any time I decide to stop talking to myself, I'm sure I can easily be accommodated with a plastic cup or a smudged shot glass cleaned with a t-shirt. *jingling quarters in pocket* (The quarters from the laundry jar.) And although clean underwear is not, all the joy of campus living is complimentary, and we are quite thankful for that.
In the past month I've had to trust that there is a reason that I'm where I am. In this town of approximately 30,500 strangers, I've sifted through several dozens of homes and have already made some great new friends. I'm thrilled with my new life, but I am unsure if I should be hoarding the newspapers, clipping coupons for the local craft store, in case time runs out and I am left designing a home around a Maytag box...
---------
By the way, today's "Motivated Monday" questions is:
Thought I forgot about Monday? Not quite, it's still Monday. We'll sort of. On the West Coast anyways. It's all at how you look at it...
"The early bird catches the worm. Of course maybe the worms that sleep in are just smarter. Half empty, or just waiting for a packet of Kool Aid and some ice? If you're not interested in peeping through the slats of your stark white verticals, perhaps the alarm clock blaring something hip will do the trick. Of course, if you're like me maybe you've contemplated staying under your satin stripes in fear the only "hip" thing you'll ever know, will be broken in your sprint towards the shower, after you slam the snooze button for the 4th time.
The other day I saw something that made me furious. I don't usually get upset, maybe a bit neurotic at times, but my blood rarely boils. While..."
(And don't forget to check out this week's HILARIOUS spotlight. You're in for a laugh! And it's not just because Steve is clapping that you stopped in for some green tea.)
So, if you don't already know. Monday night I went to my first concert in a bijillion years. (Hence the scrolling, very personal lyrics, and new song on my profile page.) Sparing hip college students from last decade's wardrobe, I went "as is" and still felt so out of place. I accept the fact that nothing is going to bring back college days (or an 80's wardrobe), but I mumble obscenities under my breath regardless. Of course on the brighter side, scouring the racks at Macy's can only be in the near future.
The concert was outdoors and was big "A" awesome. "One Republic" was down to earth and had more talent than... Well, let's just say they had a cello gone modern and I have...jazz hands. Seriously though, don't just take it from the mouth of an "old fogy". They did just go platinum. In any case, I'm not a musical reviewer so I'll just leave it at, "if you have a chance to see them, do. I hear they'll even play a game of b-ball with you after the fact if you're lucky.
There's a lot going on in the next 4 weeks and I'm trying to juggle them all. Life would be a lot easier as an octopus, but I fear with my luck I'd drift onto someone's pu pu platter in the small fishing village of Salema. And that in itself is what Madison calls, "the poops". I'm sorry. For you folks that don't have kids just skip to the next paragraph. For you that do...Every time she says that I want to write an SNL skit. She says it like Yorkers talk about "The Bronx". With a very matter of fact nod.
ANYWAYS, I think the move will be perfect. As I'm aging rather quickly this month (37, my dear friends). I've hit that "wanna buy a convertible and let it whip through my hair (mid-life crisis...shhhhh) stage; and I think this change of scenery will be exactly what is in order. Leaving Florida will be hard, but behind I also leave a million memories...which in itself will be good for the soul. *putting on Rapunzel's wig and laughing* Chicken soup, you have nothing on spring cleaning and starting brand new. Nothing! *driving off in my 4-cylinder SUV* that has a mysterious clicking sound*.
10:03 PM - MOTIVATED MONDAYS - Chain Reactions = Grins of Satisfaction
Current mood: good
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
Are you whining about it being Monday? Well...I'm feeling a bit flustered myself. There are lists to be made, and things to do. So grab that cup of joe and get your pencil sharpened. I'm not saying you'll get anything done, but at least you'll have something to bite down on when the pain of Monday makes you flinch. Just like an army battlefield, no alcohol...just close your eyes and bite down.
There are few things in life that make people happy than making other people happy. Let me rephrase that. If you want to be happy, find out what makes someone else smile, and do it. Now, you're probably rolling your eyes at me, perhaps even raising a finger to remind me of your un-favorite (it's a word, go with it) first day of the week…and that's ok. I'll smile. After all, you made me happy just by reading this. Just sayin'.
An example would have been today. There was an African-American woman in a nurses uniform stranded on the side of the road this morning. She looked like she was trying to dial a number and was getting frustrated. I was alone in the car and thought about stopping, but I didn't. I should have. I wasn't rushing to wait in a crowded doctor's office or stand in line at the grocery store…it would have made her day. I'm still kicking myself over the decision, because that was a chain reaction just waiting for ignition.
There's a lot of people out there playing the "me" game; including me at times. It's similar to the Milton Bradley's game of "Life"…just more cut-throat and less entertaining; and that's ok. After all, if we talk about survival of the fittest, someone's got to slaughter the lambs and sit up high on the mountain with their entourage. But what if...
8:39 PM - I’m looney. God love me.
Current mood: blank
Category: Blogging
As you can tell (my dear fellow bloggers), I've been slacking (as you are missing comments). I'm not a slacker by nature, it's not in my blood, but it's happening...slowly happening (perhaps I ran out of ink?). I hope the slack-a-daisical 'tude falls to the wayside soon. I've got a bijillion (and one) things to do, people to see, and places to go. Ok, maybe I just have things to do. For a moment I guess I felt kind of Seuss-ish. I know...it's going to be a long night. Just sayin'.
The past week I've been glued to the laptop. You'd think there'd be something that could release the Elmer's from my wrists...but here I sit...searching online for houses. Have you ever looked at houses online? It's like Russian roulette. You're lucky if you get a description of the home and you should buy a lottery ticket if you get a picture. Hello people. Aren't you trying to SELL your house? Think it's the economy that's killing the real estate market? Nope. Lack of writing and figuring out how to transfer a digital or two from a memory card to the computer. Geek squad folks. They're there to help you when you need them.
In any case, we move in less than 6 weeks. I'm anal retentive, so don't roll your eyes when I tell you I've created a spreadsheet to organize the homes we will be looking at, and don't slap me silly when I tell you there's even a 6 week goal list. Our Realtor is probably having back room conversations about his "looney" client who just sent him her thoughts via Excel. God love Excel. Well...God love us Type A folks who need Excel. We need all the love we can get.
I'm not sure how this weekend will end. Most likely with a glass of wine and a bar of wholesome chocolate to soothe my soul; then it will be back to the grind. I'm not sure what I'll be grinding, but I'm pretty sure it will include toasty roasty java beans to help guide me to Georgia. Or maybe that's peach stands. Well, whatever...Our family will get there somehow, er...right?
7:00 AM - MOTIVATED MONDAYS - Airing Out My Laundry
Current mood: UN-motivated
Category: UN-motivated Goals, Plans, Hopes
Blah Blah...BLAH! It's Monday...again! You'd think life would get the hint that we'd like to skip Mondays. Do I dare say that it's Laundry Day today? I know, you just went back to bed! I'm just glad I'm not "Kate" of "Plus 8"!
See how I battle the laundry basket as I pronounce myself, "Queen of Procrastination"...
Yes...it's Monday!
I'd say, GET MOTIVATED...but I'm still trying to sort my 9 neurotic piles. I'm not racist, but I do NOT like to mingle my darks and lights....brights..prints...delicates...
Some things you can't help. Like checking the date on milk every time you pull the carton out of the fridge or wondering what abalone really is. Then there are things that flow easier than the Mississippi River. They come as natural as apple pie. Although maybe I should have another analogy handy for those that don't bake. Perhaps I should say, "As natural as eating apple pie?" But then again, it's Monday morning and I doubt you're scarfing down coffee and a crusted apple wedge made by Grandma Gertie. Most likely you're just lucky you don't have a hangover.
While you sit there dreaming of pie, I sit here having a stare-off with my gigantuous (it's a word…really) pile of laundry. I've donned my cape and crown and again proclaimed myself, "Queen of Procrastination." I know what you're thinking. We'll have to duke it out. No pun intended. *scepter in hand, beginning to twirl like a baton girl on red bull*
It's not that I hate laundry, it's that I don't like to sort it. I also would love an actual laundry room rather than a hall closet. Ok. I hate laundry. I'll do it in the winter to keep me warm, but otherwise...
And thanks for reclaiming your Mondays with ATO and me. Or as Steve Foley, founder of ATO, says... "Chick with a Bic." Yeah....I'm never going to live that one down.
5:35 AM - A man’s best friend should be more than a...potato.
Current mood: distractable
Category: Blogging
My mind has been muddled for the past few weeks. I fear it is a result of the full pot of rice that was made on Tuesday. Tuesday, the day Jeff went out of town and scored me a future southern drawl. Yup. We're moving. It's a little nerve wracking, but in a good way. The southern drawl too. All in all, the excitement doesn't delete the fact that I'm brain dead, it just puts the giddy-up in creating a to-do list. Yeah...well...that's not done either. I'll blame the unmotivated actions on lack of caffeine.
The new home will come with some added bonuses. I am excited about them of course:
- a backyard so Madison can play - the start of getting Madison into 5 day a week school - me returning to work - a possible dog for Madison's birthday
Oh, regarding that last item...
Madison has this way of telling us what she wants without saying, "I want!" It's kind of nice, but I worry about her future as a CEO of a Fortune 500. Perhaps we have an attorney on our hands? Or the future "Emily Post".
Examples:
MADISON: Daddy, I see you have a pupcake. When you going to eat it?
MADISON: Mommy, I thirsty. I like that. *pointing to my glass*
It's always a wonder how she's going to give us "the hint". One day, after watching Strawberry Shortcake, Madison says outloud "I don't have a dog. I think we need a dog." Hence why now a pup is in consideration.
Jeff wants a small dog. I call them yappers. I'm not opposed to a lap dog, but I balk when I hear that a guy wants a small dog. I don't normally push stereotypes but shouldn't he want a manly man's dog? I'm not talking a pit-bull for dog fights in the back yard or "Hooch", but certainly something larger than a potato.
We'll see what happens. After all, we've got to get past the move first. The danger is inevitable when boxes abound. So I suppose there's some incentive to sift, sort, pack and get settled.
rebellious
ninja
intense
bummed
froggy
dorky
blessed
determined
mellow
busy
good
blank
distractable