November 28, 2006
I don't "do" that whole must-get-out-of-town-every-friggin'-weekend thing, so I've been a bit frantic. I like my house and my stuff and my big fat ass parked on my couch for three days. But it seems I have a date this weekend with a mouse and a couple of princesses, and after much planning, I think I'm ready. Lots to tell when we get back, I'm sure, but until then, enjoy this:
November 22, 2006
At school yesterday, Peach's class had a "feast," which they prepared themselves, and they each told the rest of the class what they were thankful for. Peach's note said:
I am thankful for my Health & house & my fish (in hevan) & Dotty my moms cat & Pogo my dads dog who is Def & my sister & my mom & my dad & God & my cat JoJo & Love!
She also made a few cards. First, the traditional:
I have no idea why they are so angry, but notice the red gloves on both of them. And the inside says, "Hope you like boxing! Go! Happy Thanksgiving!"
Finally, the message card. It says, "Peace on Earth" on the front, and the inside says:
I'm out til Sunday, y'all, so have a great holiday! Peace!
November 20, 2006
O: Is that a boy or a girl?
P: It's a girl. (pause) Right, Mommy?
Which is only made more confusing by the fact that Marcie calls her, "Sir." And both of them are voiced by men. Good grief, indeed.
November 19, 2006
But it hasn't been all "work" and no play for this mama. No way. I had a BLAST Friday night with a gaggle of blogging gals, most of whom I've linked to over there on the right, as we celebrated the return of Karla and rocked out to Bookhart's hubby's band. Badger and Karla have already posted about the events of that fateful night in way more interesting and colorful detail than I ever could, and I think Malcontent Mama has some photos documenting it all. Karla May was my date for the evening, so I got to talk to the Geej on the phone - she loves me - and I was reminded of the MANY nights KM and I spent tossing back cold brews and supporting various friends' and boyfriends' bands back in our rock and roll days. Oy. Going to random keg parties thrown by slacker 30-somethings got pretty old after a while, but we always had a great time, and we always looked FABULOUS. I'm glad I got to hang with her and the rest of my blogging pals - old and new! - and I think the sting has worn off enough by now that I can say I'm ready to do it all over again SOON.
November 16, 2006
Dr. Olive's 12-step program for comforting a crying sister who was reprimanded for wrestling with her glasses on:
- Bring her a stuffed animal
- Bring her her blankie
- Bring her another stuffed animal
- Bring her a hug and a kiss
- Climb up on the bed with her and pat her
- Tell her it's okay and that you'll stay with her to keep her company
- Pat her repeatedly
- Whisper to her, "Just wisten to your heart, and you can do it," while patting her on the chest
- Assure her that it's okay and that you really will stay with her to keep her company
- Leave to fetch the doctor kit and return with promises to find the "pwobwem" and to make her feel better
- Perform thorough examination while singing "Whistle While You Work"
- Call for a "gwoup hug"
November 14, 2006
Which I already knew, of course. I've always heard nothing but praise in all of our previous conferences, but I was looking extra forward to this one because of the whole new school/new method of teaching and learning thing. The first thing the lead guide said was she had never had a first year student take to her lessons so eagerly and easily AND that she (the guide) knew very quickly that she was going to have to step up HER game to keep up with Miss Thing. Besides doing so well academically, she said she is a leader in the class! Um, what? I mean, she enjoys being around other kids and being a part of the group, but she's never going to bust in and try and be the center of attention. And she's not. Apparently, she is leading by quiet example, in the way she conducts and carries herself and in the way she goes after her work. The guide said she is so well-rounded and CONFIDENT and that the other kids take great interest in whatever she's doing. I almost cried.
I am so thankful that she is so happy, and I am really excited about what all of this means for her. But please know that T-Bone and I had nothing to do with any of it. This kid was born ready to learn, with an incredibly long attention span and a wonderfully curious nature. We just want to nurture her love of learning as long as we can, and hopefully, she'll have the tools and the confidence to go after whatever dreams she has for the future. I, for one, am thrilled to be a witness.
And as for my sweet, also genius, Olive, she is fascinated with boobs. My boobs, my mom's boobs, her own non-existent boobs. Try as I might to correct her, she calls them "poofy things," which she says as she gently pats and pokes them. She told me the other day that when she grows up and becomes a mommy, she'll have poofy things to make milk for her babies because that's what mammals do and cows are mammals and their poofy things are pink and they are on their tummies and that's where the baby cows drink the milk because they are mammals and that's what mammals do. Whew ...
She's also fascinated with hair, and she was worried the other day that I didn't have hair on my arms and chest because "Daddy has humongous hair on his arms and legs." And at the risk of providing TMI, I will say that when she and I were preparing to take a bath together recently, she pointed at a certain area of my body and asked, "Mommy, is that goat hair?" I swear that is not a comment on my personal hygiene. Just a very creative assessment.
November 11, 2006
10. Scaggy - Says who?
9. Makes me shake my ass - What doesn't these days. Total independent motion.
8. Poon with a spoon - What's wrong with you people?
7. Slept with Robin Zander - If I did, I'd take it to the grave.
6. Mom gave me a perm - Actually, it was my aunt. And it was awful.
5. Hooker shoes, Austin, Texas - Part of my Vegas wardrobe.
4. Watermelon balls soaked in Everclear - 1984 called ... Wooo!
3. Rod and Todd Flanders singing I Got the Joy - Read this to see how VBS almost cost me my vision. Almost.
2. High on a hill was a lonely goatherd - The rising star thanks to Gwen Stefani.
1. Thunder only happens when it’s raining - Really, I get this at LEAST once a day. What the hell?
Update 11/13: This just in - Buried up to her boobs.
November 10, 2006
And I totally agree with Badger and Angry Pregnant Lawyer that you should be watching this show.
November 9, 2006
Friend of Peach: I see the Capitol!
Peach: I see it, too!
FOP: Know what? I was conceived at the Capitol. That's where I was conceived.
P: What do you mean, conceived?
FOP: You know, conCEIVED. My dad worked at the Capitol and my mom was pregnant and then the people heard all this screaming and they came running downstairs and that's where I was conceived. The Capitol.
LT (silently): Oh shit. Here it comes.
P: Mommy? Where was I conceived?
LT: I think FOP means her mom went into labor at the Capitol. She means that's when it was time for her mom to give birth. I went into labor while I was at work and then I drove to the hospital and you were born. (Pause)
P: So what's conceived? What does that mean? (Damn.)
FOP: Yeah, what's conceived? (So not my job, kid.)
(Silence - just the Cheetah Girls II soundtrack. Don't ask.)
LT: Well, it means ... Conceived means ... Well, it's just a completely different thing. FOP was talking about when her mom went into labor, and OH LOOK! Here we are! Yay field trip!
I am such a wuss.
November 7, 2006
November 5, 2006
November 3, 2006
A blogging bud has been test driving VW Jettas, and it has made me all nostalgic for my first car. My first two cars, actually. I got a brand-spankin'-new white Jetta, which I named Joan, in May of my junior year in high school. I had only recently passed my driver's test after nearly a year of trying (long story), and I just loved that car. I pampered her with regular washings, frequent oil changes, and careful, defensive driving, which came in handy the night I was driving home to my freshman dorm and that BITCH pulled right in front of me and slammed on her brakes in a no-turn lane just so she could get her eat on at Jack-in-the-Crack. Of course, I got the ticket because I hit her from behind, but all the drunk a-holes who witnessed the collision as they spilled out of Hole in the Wall were totally on my side.
After Ms. Joan got all fixed up, we were cool for about two years. And then one day, I was driving down The Drag, minding my own GD beeswax, when I saw this hippy-poser chick come beebopping out of Hasting's on the other side of the street and pull right out into oncoming traffic just as I was passing her, going the other way. The first person in said oncoming traffic was an Asian dude on a motorcycle, whom she totally did not see because she didn't even look, and at the moment of impact, I was right in the line of fire. I swear it all happened in slow motion, and it was like I knew what was going to happen because I totally saw it coming. What I didn't count on was my sunroof being open and me seeing the Asian dude FLYING over my car, sans helmet and motorcycle. I just knew he was going to land in my passenger's seat, so I braced for the impact, and when the dust settled, and I opened my eyes, he was STANDING right behind my car, hands on his hips, surveying the damage to his bike. And, God bless him, he was still wearing his backpack.
I have no idea how the hell he didn't end up smeared all over the street, but after he did whatever aerial Ninja move that probably saved his life, I think he went into shock because he just started hauling ASS down The Drag. There were a lot of people around because it was right in the middle of the day, right between classes, so some dudes tackled him and pulled him over to the sidewalk to try and calm him down. In the meantime, Groovy Girl had driven off, and I was out of my car, muttering, "I am NOT paying for this!" There was a huge dent in the driver's side door, and the front tire was flat, but other than that, Joan fared pretty well. Or so I thought. I just slammed the door and stomped over to the sidewalk to call the friends I was supposed to be meeting in 10 minutes. A bunch of people came up and said they would be witnesses for me because it was all Groovy Girl's fault and she took off and that Asian dude is freaking out and somebody already called the cops and yadda yadda yadda. So I just sat on the curb, mad as HELL, and waited for the cops to show up. And they did. Two of them. On horseback.
By that point, a photographer from The Daily Texan was there taking pictures, some emergency personnel were tending to the Asian dude, and every five seconds, some dumbass would come up to me and ask what happened. One of the cops started to take my statement, while the other one, and his horse, were out in the middle of the street, trying to pick up the various pieces the motorcycle ended up in, during which exercise, the horse proceeded to crap all over the street. HUGE. Shortly thereafter, Groovy Girl shows back up, her mascara running out from under her faux John Lennon sunglasses, and the crowd quickly unloaded on her. She tried to apologize to me, but I was done with the whole thing, so I politely told her, "This is all your fault, and I'm not fucking paying for it." Then I sat down on the curb and started crying. Big baby.
My friends got there a few minutes later and formed a human shield around me to keep the dumbass question-askers at bay while the cops surveyed the damage to Joan. While she didn't look too bad, I told them I still wanted her towed somewhere to get checked out and to get a new tire, which was a good thing since it turned out that the front axle was bent like an "L," and I would have been stuck driving around in circles like a friggin' circus clown. So yeah, she was not quite four years old, had less than 40K miles on her, and she was totaled. Gone too soon. After that, I got a new red Jetta, which I named Ruby, but the love was never quite the same between us. I really think Joan cast some kind of voodoo spell on her, because she had quite a few "issues," and I nearly ran her into the ground while trying to learn to drive a stick.
The literal punchline to the whole affair came just as I was finally cleared to leave the scene. I told my friends that if one more person asked me what happened, I was going to lose my shit. So here comes your boyfriend, with a cast on his arm, natch, justa shuckin' and jivin' down the street. And I knew, just KNEW, he was going to be the one. As he got closer, he kept looking back and forth between me, my car, the motorcycle, the horse, the Asian dude, and Groovy girl, clearly trying to put it all together. Finally, he stopped right in front of me, took one last look around, and said, "Where'd the horseshit come from?"
Have I mentioned how much I love this GD town?
November 1, 2006
This scary-as-shit skeleton mask was one of three I purchased for a quick trip to Graceland 11(!)years ago with the lovely Karla May and our friend, Erwina. It was a fairly spur-of-the-moment jaunt, just two days after I met my dear, dear T-Bone (Happy Birthday, you big hunka burning love, you), and was meant to mark the end of my first semester of law school. Trust me, I needed to unwind.
Here we are at a truckstop in Hope, Arkansas on the way:
Here we are admiring all The King's horses at Graceland:
And here's yours truly demonstrating a little move I like to call "The Strut":
And yes, I did rock the overalls and grey shirt pretty much the whole weekend. Cause that's how I TCB. RIP King. XOXO.