I have so much to say, and no organizational skills this morning. So, long chaotic reading coming right up.
The Witherhalls were out of town for the past 40 hours. And Big D planned the whole trip. That sounds nice when I say that, like it was a romantic/surprise sort of thing. But the truth of the matter is: I was a weeny whiny baby who didn't want to go on this trip and refused to do ANYTHING to help get this trip in order. Including packing. Which I did a few hours before we left. But I told Big D he had to do it since it was his trip - and then I got really scared and did it myself.
Apparently being a poo nose wife works out in the end. Because it turns out, Big D arose to the challenge and out did himself. Maybe it's not so much that he arose to the challenge, but more so that these bounding chains of controlling wife-hood removed themselves and he was able to work as a free man. Hmmph
We left around 6 am Wednesday morning.- A whole day later due to Ed waking up Monday with a not pleasant fever and attitude that went with it. - Our destination: Sight and Sound Theater.
Weeny Whiny Baby Fit #1
WHO in their right mind names something this. It sounds like I'm going to be entertained by some puppets. Possibly Barney. Does this place have metal detectors? I'm thinking I may need to bring something in this joint to end my pain. (Was that inappropriate?) A little dramatic? But that's where my mind was at. I'm all for doing things for the kids - but when it comes to stage performances that are specifically for children. Small children. - I will gladly deprive. Without an ounce of sorrow or guilt.
I was so tired of hearing Big D say, "sight and sound theater" that I enforced the rule of calling it "ABC Train". And that made me feel better.
So, ABC Train actually is a big deal. Only 2 in the country. Which makes me think country = world. So, big deal. And it's a stage performance of bible stories. (Sounds super lame - abc trainish) But remember I said it's a big deal. So if you can think about bible stories in a big deal sort of way, maybe you'll be able to picture a large auditorium, mind blowing sets, beautiful costumes, (can I just say, the hair of these actors was enough for me. Oh yeah, and Shem) live animals, and lots of theater effects of lights and sounds. We saw "Noah". Now, my favorite part was the second half of show. Because the second half was when Noah and his family were on the ark. And all the way around this gigundas arena were curtains (that you didn't know were curtains) And they dropped the curtains, and for FOUR STORIES up - all the way around - were animals. In real simple terms - they made it so it felt/looked like you were on the ark.
And now I'm going to have to say: (Big D don't read this) I have to recommend this joint. They are showing Noah until November and then a new show begins.
Also, Big D really got top notch seats. Not sure if it was by the lucky front teeth of his head, or by researching - but they could not have been any better. I spanked him on the bottom two times and said "thank you".
After the showboat we drove to IKEA to return this. It made my house smell like a beef patty. And that doesn't work well in a mole hole house such as I have. You need a nice big house, one where you can really showcase this fine piece of meat.
Now this was my first trip to IKEA where I did not have to buy a large piece of furniture. Which got me REALLY excited. And Big D promptly fell into the depths of despair. Pouted a thousand pouts. Shed two tears. And growled. I pretended that I heard none of it. And with my best smile I bode him farewell and marched my bottom straight into creative land. Where for the first time EVER I had the chance to look at the small things. I think I almost hyperventilated and did 3 skippy twirls. And then as fast as I could, I waltzed through the top half of the store - grabbing small items that made me smile. Worked my way down to the bottom half. Ran into Big D. Hid around a corner, slowed my breathing and continued to shop like I didn't have some grumpy husband that I would have to contend with in the near future.
And Big D will say things like, "the reason I get so grumpy is because I have to entertain Ed". Ok, personally - Ed entertains himself with climbing on all the furniture. Big D only has to supervise. And because supervising is not what HE wants to do - he pouts. And becomes very dramatic. And there is no hope for our children because they have 2 parents who are both selfish and dramatic.
I finally finished. Really, it took 1 hour. Which I think is Houdini work. And Big D says, "lets get dinner here". And I said, "no". IKEA is not the most romantic place to eat. Cheap - yes. Convenient - yes. But I wasn't feeling cheap or convenient that night. I felt like a queen - with my small pretty purchases. And my belly wanted to match my head.
So Big D did a lot of research (3 chapters of On the Banks of Plum Creek worth) But it was worth it. And he found this incredibly delicious and perfect place that was not only scrum scrum and fit this romantic desire, but also grand for bringing piglets too. We appropriately slopped up the place. And our clothes.
I think we held hands for 3 seconds walking back to the car. Smiled satisfactorily. Farted once. And headed to the mystery hotel. That Big D said was in the ghetto.
Now I know for a fact - something the Whitherhalls don't go light on - are hotel rooms. We made that decision early on in our marriage - after far too many scary nights of threats of bugs, hairy pillows, and green and gold comforters. So, I was not worried about this ghetto place.
And sure enough, we drive into this brickyard where they just cleaned up a crime scene, and there beholds an old factory they turned into some artistically satisfying hotel.
Plans for the Night
1) Give kids shower. (I can't remember the last time they actually were covered in soap and water.)
2) Turn tv on to some kid show and put kids to bed.
3) Kids fall asleep immediately.
4) Adults order room service and watch interesting adult shows.
5) Giggle five times.
6) Be groped seven times.
7) Fall asleep happy and snuggled with tv still on.
How the Night Actually Went
1) Kids got bathed but only after Big D crawled in the shower with them because they both were screaming.
2) Turned tv on only to realize the only appropriate kid show was a tree-house building show on the animal planet. Nothing kid about it - except there were no disrespectful brats or nudity.
3) Kids are bored with show which only excites them and they refuse to sleep in their bed.
4) Big D complains about how hot the room is and sprawls out in the bed in a grumpy huff.
5) Kids jump around one too many times, land on Big D's peener.
6) Big D sends kids to their own bed = tears.
7) Big D falls asleep in 3 seconds.
8) Foxy watches the rest of the tree-house show and falls asleep.
9) Two hours later, Ed falls out of bed and ends up in ours = endless kicking to the face for the remaining 4 hours of sleep that remain in our busy schedule that Big D has planned.
Two Highlights of the First Day (with an extra highlight, and an extra)
1) Almost getting into a fight with the Mexicans
2) The 'Easy On, Easy Off' sign on the highway for McPoopers - that was anything but 'easy on, easy off'. And 'easy on, easy off' is going to be one of those things that you just say all the time - like, "happy birthday mama" and "MOM!!!! what's that noise???" and "IT'S NOT WORKING!"
3) Ed crying for a good part of the car ride because his tummy hurt. Because he now hoards is poopies AND his farts.
4) Seeing so many Amish. Loved.
Take Aways
1) Sometimes refusing to do anything results in better than expected adventures.
2) Leave kids home if you have any plans of snuggling.
3) Stay tuned for the next day's adventure.
Fun Fact
I was able to type this in about an hour - because the kids are still sleeping. Normally it takes me multiple hours, if not all day.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
4 of the Boringest, but Essential Things That Needed to be Said
Couple of things I want to say.
1) Is it whiny of me to encourage you readers to share my blog with others who might need to feel better about their life? I say this mainly because I like seeing my page views go up. It makes me feel fancy. And I really do feel passionately about giving woman permission to live truthfully. To be more honest in their actions and life story.
Ok - moving on from my selfish demands.
2) Something really unusual happened this past Saturday. I was at the grocer (by myself- aka a party) and while I was rounding the corner to move down the next aisle, this woman walked straight toward me - holding eye contact. (RUN!!!) She handed me some coupons and said, "here, I'm not using these". I told her thank you and felt a little confused. They ended up being free coupons for a pack of spare ribs and a small cheesecake. Free. $25 worth of luxury items.
I have analyzed this happening, and this is what I like to think
a) God wanted to remind me that there is still goodness in the world
b) God wanted to encourage me to continue to share meals with others
because . . .
3) Lately I've been getting kinda obsessed with sharing food with people. I don't know if it's because it's summer and eating outside is so much easier and lovelier than eating inside cramped at our Tiny Tim table. Or, maybe it's because I'm so lonely for adult interaction I'll do anything for it. Or maybe, I'm just getting fancier with old age - and inviting people over isn't a big deal anymore. Ok, it's still a big deal. Maybe just not as scary as it used to be. I guess I'm just feeling a little more brave in that area. Which is a lot to say for an introvert.
4) This kinda goes hand in hand with #3. There has been a lesson whirling in the wind, and as of recently I have chosen to be wise and claim it for myself. The lesson goes like this. Sharing food with others is really great. It's not only biblical, its part of community. But sharing food can be really scary. Because we open ourselves up to be vulnerable. "come into our homes, look at how we live life, look in our bathroom cupboards, eat the food we cook, use the forks that still have hardened cheese from last week" etc. All of that can get in the way. And boggle up our minds. And make us too proud. And we miss the whole point. The whole point of being together and living life. And loving. And sharing. And building. We make up these lies (or we listen to lies) of not being a fancy enough cook, or not having enough food or money, or space or time.
I've gathered this lesson from Friday Friends. They have broken all of those boundaries, refusing to hold captive to the lies. We have eaten together in rat holes. At 10 at night. When there's only 7 hotdogs to share amongst 8 of us. Time doesn't matter. Space doesn't matter. Cleanliness and fanciness doesn't matter. And I'm really really liking the truth of this lesson.
Take Aways
1) Eat with others.
2) Share with others.
3) Work at being vulnerable.
4) Don't call your husband at work and tell him that you took the door off the hinges because you got mad at the darn thing for not opening properly and while you were handling the heavy door it managed to slip from your fingers and smash out a window pane.
5) He won't think it's funny.
Fun Fact
There is nothing fun going on over here. Ed is pooping and Murnice is taking a shower x2 because she can't manage to rinse off the conditioner the first time around and then she looks like Slick Dick and it makes me crazy.
1) Is it whiny of me to encourage you readers to share my blog with others who might need to feel better about their life? I say this mainly because I like seeing my page views go up. It makes me feel fancy. And I really do feel passionately about giving woman permission to live truthfully. To be more honest in their actions and life story.
Ok - moving on from my selfish demands.
2) Something really unusual happened this past Saturday. I was at the grocer (by myself- aka a party) and while I was rounding the corner to move down the next aisle, this woman walked straight toward me - holding eye contact. (RUN!!!) She handed me some coupons and said, "here, I'm not using these". I told her thank you and felt a little confused. They ended up being free coupons for a pack of spare ribs and a small cheesecake. Free. $25 worth of luxury items.
I have analyzed this happening, and this is what I like to think
a) God wanted to remind me that there is still goodness in the world
b) God wanted to encourage me to continue to share meals with others
because . . .
3) Lately I've been getting kinda obsessed with sharing food with people. I don't know if it's because it's summer and eating outside is so much easier and lovelier than eating inside cramped at our Tiny Tim table. Or, maybe it's because I'm so lonely for adult interaction I'll do anything for it. Or maybe, I'm just getting fancier with old age - and inviting people over isn't a big deal anymore. Ok, it's still a big deal. Maybe just not as scary as it used to be. I guess I'm just feeling a little more brave in that area. Which is a lot to say for an introvert.
4) This kinda goes hand in hand with #3. There has been a lesson whirling in the wind, and as of recently I have chosen to be wise and claim it for myself. The lesson goes like this. Sharing food with others is really great. It's not only biblical, its part of community. But sharing food can be really scary. Because we open ourselves up to be vulnerable. "come into our homes, look at how we live life, look in our bathroom cupboards, eat the food we cook, use the forks that still have hardened cheese from last week" etc. All of that can get in the way. And boggle up our minds. And make us too proud. And we miss the whole point. The whole point of being together and living life. And loving. And sharing. And building. We make up these lies (or we listen to lies) of not being a fancy enough cook, or not having enough food or money, or space or time.
I've gathered this lesson from Friday Friends. They have broken all of those boundaries, refusing to hold captive to the lies. We have eaten together in rat holes. At 10 at night. When there's only 7 hotdogs to share amongst 8 of us. Time doesn't matter. Space doesn't matter. Cleanliness and fanciness doesn't matter. And I'm really really liking the truth of this lesson.
Take Aways
1) Eat with others.
2) Share with others.
3) Work at being vulnerable.
4) Don't call your husband at work and tell him that you took the door off the hinges because you got mad at the darn thing for not opening properly and while you were handling the heavy door it managed to slip from your fingers and smash out a window pane.
5) He won't think it's funny.
Fun Fact
There is nothing fun going on over here. Ed is pooping and Murnice is taking a shower x2 because she can't manage to rinse off the conditioner the first time around and then she looks like Slick Dick and it makes me crazy.
Monday, June 24, 2013
How to Relieve Marriage Tension
Big D and I have been at each other's throats for a few weeks. Actually, for 9 years. We do not have - what you call - a smooth sailing marriage. No. It's more like fireworks and war. Always loud. Sometimes it's good loud. And sometimes it's chaotic loud. And that's just the way it is.
But over the weekend we tried a new exercise. First, we striped down to our underwear and held hands. Second, we locked eyes. Third, we took turns blowing love messages to each other. (this consists of not saying any words, you - the blower- thinks the love message while blowing and the receiver believes in their heart what you have just blown) Fourth, after each blown love message, we would then tenderly kiss. Fifth, I just puked. And I'm kidding a million percent.
What we actually did was yell complaints across the house to each other. We had 23 minutes. Big D washed dishes, I folded clothes. Rules: 1) you can ONLY say a complaint and it has to be toward AND about the spouse 2) you have to yell the complaint 3) there can be NO rebuttal or excuse after a complaint is made towards you
Example: Big D to Foxy "I HATE THE WAY YOU INSIST ON ME WEARING CERTAIN THINGS BUT YOU REFUSE TO WEAR ANYTHING THAT I LIKE"
Foxy to Big D "I HATE THE FACT THAT YOU HAVE NO SENSE OF STYLE AND INSIST ON BEING AN OLD MAN"
Can I just say - Big D really was terrible at this game. He was filled with "yeah, but . . . " I, on the other hand really showcased my ability to play by the rules.
Then we followed up the complaint session by yelling only things that we liked about the other. We had 30 minutes. Rules 1) you had to yell 2) no rebuttals 3) it had to be nice
Example: Big D to Foxy "I LIKE YOUR BOOBS"
Foxy to Big D " " (that would be silence) But in my head "@9%#8q@)(#!(y%@)#"
Yeah . . . I didn't do so well at this one. Guess I need a little more work in the compliment section.
Take Aways
1) Doing this exercise brings so much satisfaction.
2) It only works if you yell and have limited time.
3) Because you then feel super rushed and yell out as many things as possible for fear of not emptying the complaint bank.
4) Maybe I'll do this everyday.
5) Sometimes I wonder why there are so many things that I need to work on.
Thoughts on fighting in front of kids.
Do it - unless between the fighting there is no resemblance of liking each other. I think it's important for Murnice and Ed to see that a good fight is normal in a normal marriage. And its not something to be afraid of. P.S. that's my opinion.
But over the weekend we tried a new exercise. First, we striped down to our underwear and held hands. Second, we locked eyes. Third, we took turns blowing love messages to each other. (this consists of not saying any words, you - the blower- thinks the love message while blowing and the receiver believes in their heart what you have just blown) Fourth, after each blown love message, we would then tenderly kiss. Fifth, I just puked. And I'm kidding a million percent.
What we actually did was yell complaints across the house to each other. We had 23 minutes. Big D washed dishes, I folded clothes. Rules: 1) you can ONLY say a complaint and it has to be toward AND about the spouse 2) you have to yell the complaint 3) there can be NO rebuttal or excuse after a complaint is made towards you
Example: Big D to Foxy "I HATE THE WAY YOU INSIST ON ME WEARING CERTAIN THINGS BUT YOU REFUSE TO WEAR ANYTHING THAT I LIKE"
Foxy to Big D "I HATE THE FACT THAT YOU HAVE NO SENSE OF STYLE AND INSIST ON BEING AN OLD MAN"
Can I just say - Big D really was terrible at this game. He was filled with "yeah, but . . . " I, on the other hand really showcased my ability to play by the rules.
Then we followed up the complaint session by yelling only things that we liked about the other. We had 30 minutes. Rules 1) you had to yell 2) no rebuttals 3) it had to be nice
Example: Big D to Foxy "I LIKE YOUR BOOBS"
Foxy to Big D " " (that would be silence) But in my head "@9%#8q@)(#!(y%@)#"
Yeah . . . I didn't do so well at this one. Guess I need a little more work in the compliment section.
Take Aways
1) Doing this exercise brings so much satisfaction.
2) It only works if you yell and have limited time.
3) Because you then feel super rushed and yell out as many things as possible for fear of not emptying the complaint bank.
4) Maybe I'll do this everyday.
5) Sometimes I wonder why there are so many things that I need to work on.
Thoughts on fighting in front of kids.
Do it - unless between the fighting there is no resemblance of liking each other. I think it's important for Murnice and Ed to see that a good fight is normal in a normal marriage. And its not something to be afraid of. P.S. that's my opinion.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Desperate Housewife? (Ew)
How shall I put this without sounding less than holy . . . I don't think there is a way. So I'll be less than holy and promptly get a ringle jingle from Big D. (this would be one of those times that having him subscribed to my life is probably not in my best interest)
So, remember this neighbor?
Her treemen came today. *pant*
Let me back up a tad more. Bruver Bear Chuck basically woke me up this morning. He called last night to tell me that his wife hadn't had the baby. I got sidetracked from that little call (that I did NOT answer because I was driving in turd twisting traffic) and took the wrong turn. And yelled "CURSES".
So he called me back this morning on his drive to work so we could catch up on ridiculous life. And reminisce about all the times he had to apologize to adults when he was a kid. My favorite story from this morning was the time that one of our mother's friends had to pick him up from piano lessons. He climbed in the vehicle and shouted, "smells like fish in here". Then he grabbed our mother's friend's hair, took a whopping sniff and exclaimed, "yup, that's what it is".
*can't stop laughing about that one.*
And then Bruver Chuck hung up and I raced to the restroom to take care of morning things and looked in the mirror, and smirkingly thought "ha, I look like I'm ready to see the neighbor". And then I said, "OH poopies and peepees!!! It's Thursday and the neighbor said she was coming back today to talk about tree stuff" *pant pant pant*
I threw clothes on. Which entailed picking up yesterday's clothes off the floor. But the neighbor wouldn't know that. And smeared on about 7 inches of deodorant because an alarming stench was wafting out of my pores from panicking about the neighbor.
Then I looked in the mirror and said, "yes, yes. that looks quite nice". And decided to throw on some makeups and really wow the neighbor.
Well, before the neighbor came over, the treemen came. They backed up their big-rig down the narrow driveway. And these men starting crawling out of the woodwork (no pun intended) (just kidding - pun intended) Lots and lots of men. They had these auras of testosterone that gleamed and glittered. Lots and lots of workboots. *pant* Nasty workmen jeans that only workmen can wear. *pant* Red dirty t-shirts. *pant* Hard hats and workmen sunglasses. *pant* And big BIG muscles *pant pant pant pant pant pant* And really loud machines. *pant* But the thing I LOVED the most, was the yelling. NONSTOP. Bickering and hollering and singing and bossing. And yelling.
So, the foreman gets in the cherry-picker basket and somebody raises him up over to the tree. And at that exact moment, all the other workmen revved every engine that was in sight. The truck, the woodchipper, and all 37 chainsaws. And the foreman starts yelling. Really loud.
I think a woman would have a) taken notes while up in the cherry-picker to talk about when she got back down on the ground b) have everybody turn off their power tools so she could yell from way above the clouds OR c) used something technical and smart.
But no. They just yell. And yell. And it was delightful.
And finally the neighbor came over and asked if I'd like to come over and talk to the men about getting some scraps for our Tiny Tim fire pit.
P.S. When I opened the door for the neighbor, she said, "hello beautiful". And I felt like a queen because I wasn't in my mom pajamas. Nor was my hair greasy and parted down the middle.
I grabbed both kids hands and we marched our bottoms straight over to the treemen - which happened to be around the corner - because the neighbor lives directly behind us. I hoped I looked fancy enough. Because every mother wants to be noticed. Especially by treemen. (do I sound like a hussy?)
And there I was. Standing before these huge, manly, sweat-covered, treemen. I was promptly directed to the foreman - and this greek-like, mythical creature turns around. And I couldn't help myself. I got real close. And sniffed real hard. And laid my hand on his arm - squeezed his muscular bulge, and said, "sorry. I couldn't resist."
Kidding.
Instead, I snorted twice and said, "hi . . . uh . . . .um . . .. .er . . . .I want . . . some. I need the firewood. Throw it over the fence." And then they said some things to me that I don't remember, because now I had a small crowd of treemen around me. But I do know that I twisted my tongue 7 more times and ran home. And hid in the house.
But I have a nice pile of firewood that will make Big D mad. And I'll say, "go put on your hard hat and cut me some wood."
Take Aways
1) Never ever leave the house.
2) And if you do, definitely don't open your mouth.
3) Just smile and nod.
4) Wear a whiteboard around your neck in case you run into a situation where words need to be exchanged.
5) Need to remember that God made me one of the worst speakers in the world for a reason.
6) Maybe it's to help with my pride.
7) Or maybe it's to keep me out of more trouble than I already get myself into.
8) Possibly it was to make me write, because if I could talk, I definitely wouldn't be writing. Takes too long.
9) Rent a chainsaw for the weekend. Maybe a few, and have my own treemen party. But I'll stay in the house. And yell.
Fun Fact
I scrubbed this monstrosity today.
Bye-bye pee dribbles and grease splatters.
Don't look too close. It's not perfect. But it's good enough for me.
So, remember this neighbor?
Her treemen came today. *pant*
Let me back up a tad more. Bruver Bear Chuck basically woke me up this morning. He called last night to tell me that his wife hadn't had the baby. I got sidetracked from that little call (that I did NOT answer because I was driving in turd twisting traffic) and took the wrong turn. And yelled "CURSES".
So he called me back this morning on his drive to work so we could catch up on ridiculous life. And reminisce about all the times he had to apologize to adults when he was a kid. My favorite story from this morning was the time that one of our mother's friends had to pick him up from piano lessons. He climbed in the vehicle and shouted, "smells like fish in here". Then he grabbed our mother's friend's hair, took a whopping sniff and exclaimed, "yup, that's what it is".
*can't stop laughing about that one.*
And then Bruver Chuck hung up and I raced to the restroom to take care of morning things and looked in the mirror, and smirkingly thought "ha, I look like I'm ready to see the neighbor". And then I said, "OH poopies and peepees!!! It's Thursday and the neighbor said she was coming back today to talk about tree stuff" *pant pant pant*
I threw clothes on. Which entailed picking up yesterday's clothes off the floor. But the neighbor wouldn't know that. And smeared on about 7 inches of deodorant because an alarming stench was wafting out of my pores from panicking about the neighbor.
Then I looked in the mirror and said, "yes, yes. that looks quite nice". And decided to throw on some makeups and really wow the neighbor.
Well, before the neighbor came over, the treemen came. They backed up their big-rig down the narrow driveway. And these men starting crawling out of the woodwork (no pun intended) (just kidding - pun intended) Lots and lots of men. They had these auras of testosterone that gleamed and glittered. Lots and lots of workboots. *pant* Nasty workmen jeans that only workmen can wear. *pant* Red dirty t-shirts. *pant* Hard hats and workmen sunglasses. *pant* And big BIG muscles *pant pant pant pant pant pant* And really loud machines. *pant* But the thing I LOVED the most, was the yelling. NONSTOP. Bickering and hollering and singing and bossing. And yelling.
So, the foreman gets in the cherry-picker basket and somebody raises him up over to the tree. And at that exact moment, all the other workmen revved every engine that was in sight. The truck, the woodchipper, and all 37 chainsaws. And the foreman starts yelling. Really loud.
I think a woman would have a) taken notes while up in the cherry-picker to talk about when she got back down on the ground b) have everybody turn off their power tools so she could yell from way above the clouds OR c) used something technical and smart.
But no. They just yell. And yell. And it was delightful.
And finally the neighbor came over and asked if I'd like to come over and talk to the men about getting some scraps for our Tiny Tim fire pit.
P.S. When I opened the door for the neighbor, she said, "hello beautiful". And I felt like a queen because I wasn't in my mom pajamas. Nor was my hair greasy and parted down the middle.
I grabbed both kids hands and we marched our bottoms straight over to the treemen - which happened to be around the corner - because the neighbor lives directly behind us. I hoped I looked fancy enough. Because every mother wants to be noticed. Especially by treemen. (do I sound like a hussy?)
And there I was. Standing before these huge, manly, sweat-covered, treemen. I was promptly directed to the foreman - and this greek-like, mythical creature turns around. And I couldn't help myself. I got real close. And sniffed real hard. And laid my hand on his arm - squeezed his muscular bulge, and said, "sorry. I couldn't resist."
Kidding.
Instead, I snorted twice and said, "hi . . . uh . . . .um . . .. .er . . . .I want . . . some. I need the firewood. Throw it over the fence." And then they said some things to me that I don't remember, because now I had a small crowd of treemen around me. But I do know that I twisted my tongue 7 more times and ran home. And hid in the house.
But I have a nice pile of firewood that will make Big D mad. And I'll say, "go put on your hard hat and cut me some wood."
Take Aways
1) Never ever leave the house.
2) And if you do, definitely don't open your mouth.
3) Just smile and nod.
4) Wear a whiteboard around your neck in case you run into a situation where words need to be exchanged.
5) Need to remember that God made me one of the worst speakers in the world for a reason.
6) Maybe it's to help with my pride.
7) Or maybe it's to keep me out of more trouble than I already get myself into.
8) Possibly it was to make me write, because if I could talk, I definitely wouldn't be writing. Takes too long.
9) Rent a chainsaw for the weekend. Maybe a few, and have my own treemen party. But I'll stay in the house. And yell.
Fun Fact
I scrubbed this monstrosity today.
Bye-bye pee dribbles and grease splatters.
Don't look too close. It's not perfect. But it's good enough for me.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
A Sign From the Universe
I mentioned last week, that we have a friend that graduated from a fancy school. With her MBA.
I'm going to paint a picture. Mrs. Friday Friend is a fancy lady. She's a business lady. Her color is black and sometimes a touch of navy blue. Picture this. Who sometimes does this. But with her knees together. Doesn't look like this. And DEFINITELY wouldn't be caught wearing this.
And now that I've painted you all a visual of Mrs. Friday Friend, I'll move on with the story.
Mrs. Friday Friend LOVES Banana Republic. Loves it. And wears it well. Every time we see her (*ahem* every Friday) she showcases a new purchase. Bracelet. Shoes. Fancy coat.
You see, she's been building up her new work wardrobe. And you would have to be Bart and dumber than a turtle crossing the road to not pick up on the fact that Banana Republic is a part of Mrs. Friday Friend's life.
And so for her graduation gift I thought it would be fun and nontraditional to grab a BR gift card. If I graduated I would LOVE a clothing gift card. Yes I would.
So, on graduation day we went to our local grocer (do you like how I call it a grocer? It makes me feel fancier.) to purchase the gift card that most certainly would be on that HUGE gift card tower. Except it wasn't. And I yelled "curses". Cause it's funny to yell that.
And we went to graduation and the party hoping that nobody would notice . . . our terribleness. But we weren't too ashamed because I was headed to the mall on Tuesday for smiles for miles, day.
I would just pick up her gift then and hand her the card in person. Or maybe, mail it. It always feels really special to get a nugget in the mail. (the word "nugget" always reminds me of the word booger or turd)
Well, I got home before I remembered about the BR card. Neat. But still not too worried, because the next night Big D had a meeting next to the mall and he offered to go pick up the dang gift card. But I told him no. 1) I had returns to make at the mall and I would just pick it up, try two 2) the more errands he had, the longer before I would see him that evening.
So, Thursday came along. I made returns and put a mental block on the card. And came home and smiled. And then I kicked myself in the shins.
I ate some humble pie and sent Mrs. Friday Friend a text that went like this: we still have your card at the house and maybe by November we'll remember to give it to you.
Fast forward to last night. Big D had another meeting next to the mall. And THIS time I told him to march his turtle shell over there and grab the ding dang card.
So Big D got home and I said, "did you get the goods?" And he replied, "yes, but I think I got the wrong thing". *AHEM* how do you get the wrong thing? It's a gift card. Not difficult. You CANNOT screw up a gift card. Unless you're Big D.
Some how he got a tad distracted. I'm not sure if it was the music. Or the dark entrance that whispers of horny pubescent teens making out in the corner. Maybe it was the giant, wall-to-wall photograph of pube hair. And I will even give him the benefit of the doubt, it very well may have been, the child like manikins wearing thongs and belly button shirts.
I'm not sure what happened that night. But Big D came home with this.
Take Aways
1) Have normal ideas for gifts - like fancy pens and bottles of wine.
2) Spank your husband after he takes off his turtle shell.
3) Remind Mrs. Friday Friend that November is far away, so don't get too anxious.
4) Or tell Mrs. Friday Friend that she needs to loosen up a bit and try to be a hip (aka hussy) mom
5) Also remind her that Mr. Friday Friend wouldn't mind a bit.
6) Can you return gift cards?
Fun Fact
I'm going to pee my pants. And then make boxed mac and cheese. Because I want to. Also, the neighbors have a cement truck in their driveway which reminds me of the time my mother drove our 9 passenger blue station wagon into a vat of concrete and then got stuck. And she was barefoot. And a very nice, very ugly (that's how the story was told) man helped her get the car out. (After she herself had climbed out of the vat and then ran around to get some help because it was lunch time and everybody was hiding in corners eating their lunch) And then she came screeching down our road, rip-roaring up our driveway screaming for the hose. Because she had to clean off the entire undersides of the car. That car never rusted through. The end.
I'm going to paint a picture. Mrs. Friday Friend is a fancy lady. She's a business lady. Her color is black and sometimes a touch of navy blue. Picture this. Who sometimes does this. But with her knees together. Doesn't look like this. And DEFINITELY wouldn't be caught wearing this.
And now that I've painted you all a visual of Mrs. Friday Friend, I'll move on with the story.
Mrs. Friday Friend LOVES Banana Republic. Loves it. And wears it well. Every time we see her (*ahem* every Friday) she showcases a new purchase. Bracelet. Shoes. Fancy coat.
You see, she's been building up her new work wardrobe. And you would have to be Bart and dumber than a turtle crossing the road to not pick up on the fact that Banana Republic is a part of Mrs. Friday Friend's life.
And so for her graduation gift I thought it would be fun and nontraditional to grab a BR gift card. If I graduated I would LOVE a clothing gift card. Yes I would.
So, on graduation day we went to our local grocer (do you like how I call it a grocer? It makes me feel fancier.) to purchase the gift card that most certainly would be on that HUGE gift card tower. Except it wasn't. And I yelled "curses". Cause it's funny to yell that.
And we went to graduation and the party hoping that nobody would notice . . . our terribleness. But we weren't too ashamed because I was headed to the mall on Tuesday for smiles for miles, day.
I would just pick up her gift then and hand her the card in person. Or maybe, mail it. It always feels really special to get a nugget in the mail. (the word "nugget" always reminds me of the word booger or turd)
Well, I got home before I remembered about the BR card. Neat. But still not too worried, because the next night Big D had a meeting next to the mall and he offered to go pick up the dang gift card. But I told him no. 1) I had returns to make at the mall and I would just pick it up, try two 2) the more errands he had, the longer before I would see him that evening.
So, Thursday came along. I made returns and put a mental block on the card. And came home and smiled. And then I kicked myself in the shins.
I ate some humble pie and sent Mrs. Friday Friend a text that went like this: we still have your card at the house and maybe by November we'll remember to give it to you.
Fast forward to last night. Big D had another meeting next to the mall. And THIS time I told him to march his turtle shell over there and grab the ding dang card.
So Big D got home and I said, "did you get the goods?" And he replied, "yes, but I think I got the wrong thing". *AHEM* how do you get the wrong thing? It's a gift card. Not difficult. You CANNOT screw up a gift card. Unless you're Big D.
Some how he got a tad distracted. I'm not sure if it was the music. Or the dark entrance that whispers of horny pubescent teens making out in the corner. Maybe it was the giant, wall-to-wall photograph of pube hair. And I will even give him the benefit of the doubt, it very well may have been, the child like manikins wearing thongs and belly button shirts.
I'm not sure what happened that night. But Big D came home with this.
Take Aways
1) Have normal ideas for gifts - like fancy pens and bottles of wine.
2) Spank your husband after he takes off his turtle shell.
3) Remind Mrs. Friday Friend that November is far away, so don't get too anxious.
4) Or tell Mrs. Friday Friend that she needs to loosen up a bit and try to be a hip (aka hussy) mom
5) Also remind her that Mr. Friday Friend wouldn't mind a bit.
6) Can you return gift cards?
Fun Fact
I'm going to pee my pants. And then make boxed mac and cheese. Because I want to. Also, the neighbors have a cement truck in their driveway which reminds me of the time my mother drove our 9 passenger blue station wagon into a vat of concrete and then got stuck. And she was barefoot. And a very nice, very ugly (that's how the story was told) man helped her get the car out. (After she herself had climbed out of the vat and then ran around to get some help because it was lunch time and everybody was hiding in corners eating their lunch) And then she came screeching down our road, rip-roaring up our driveway screaming for the hose. Because she had to clean off the entire undersides of the car. That car never rusted through. The end.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Big D and Me
Today marks the 9th year of holy sexual intercourse that Big D and I have been having. In other words, it's our pannypersary. And I'm not going to say, "I married my best friend X amount of years ago" and other gobble-de-gook of love and twinkle dust in our eyes. Jesus sure knows that good times have not been had by all. Being married has been nothing but a fight, and a good kick to the shin and a twist of the nipples and a jab to the kidneys. I'm still waiting for this so called "honeymoon" phase to kick in . . .
Bruver Bear Bobby just asked me this past weekend if Big D was the love of my life. The answer is no. The love of my life came and went and my life partner went and came.
So, in honor of 9 years of wedded knock-'em sock-'em, here is a list of Big D greatness. To you, Big D. Happy punnypurpery
1) I love that you wear your beard, even tho you dye it.
2) I love that you can still make me giggle like a lunatic.
3) I love that we have arguments about who's turn it really is to change the huge turdy diaper.
4) I love that you gobble up all the food I make with vin and vigor - even when I make diarrhea bowl. (In layman's terms - homemade mac and cheese - which gives us the squirts for days.)
5) I love when you sing me songs like "what's green and black and hot all over" in an out-of-tune falsetto voice, and then you jump into Michael Scott's "feeling hot, hot, hot" - all because you think I look so tasty, when I actually look like a drowned sewer rat.
6) I love when you say, "let's have drunken sex" and then we both fall asleep on the couch after 1 sip of wine.
7) I love that you love all my bruver and sister bears.
8) I love that you fight just as dirty as me. Actually, no. I hate it. I wish you would be the bigger person.
8) I love that you care enough about your ninnies to sign up for big boy races, even tho it makes me nervy.
9) I love that you're man enough to take reproof.
10) I love that you try your hardest to learn new tricks - unless it's closing the shower curtain.
That's all I want to say.
I hope that you will always look for the fun in life and always come home to me.
Take Aways
1) Just because something is miserably hard, doesn't mean that it's bad.
2) Just because something is miserably hard, doesn't mean that it's not fun.
3) Just because something is miserably hard, doesn't mean that it's not rewarding.
Bruver Bear Bobby just asked me this past weekend if Big D was the love of my life. The answer is no. The love of my life came and went and my life partner went and came.
So, in honor of 9 years of wedded knock-'em sock-'em, here is a list of Big D greatness. To you, Big D. Happy punnypurpery
1) I love that you wear your beard, even tho you dye it.
2) I love that you can still make me giggle like a lunatic.
3) I love that we have arguments about who's turn it really is to change the huge turdy diaper.
4) I love that you gobble up all the food I make with vin and vigor - even when I make diarrhea bowl. (In layman's terms - homemade mac and cheese - which gives us the squirts for days.)
5) I love when you sing me songs like "what's green and black and hot all over" in an out-of-tune falsetto voice, and then you jump into Michael Scott's "feeling hot, hot, hot" - all because you think I look so tasty, when I actually look like a drowned sewer rat.
6) I love when you say, "let's have drunken sex" and then we both fall asleep on the couch after 1 sip of wine.
7) I love that you love all my bruver and sister bears.
8) I love that you fight just as dirty as me. Actually, no. I hate it. I wish you would be the bigger person.
8) I love that you care enough about your ninnies to sign up for big boy races, even tho it makes me nervy.
9) I love that you're man enough to take reproof.
10) I love that you try your hardest to learn new tricks - unless it's closing the shower curtain.
That's all I want to say.
I hope that you will always look for the fun in life and always come home to me.
Take Aways
1) Just because something is miserably hard, doesn't mean that it's bad.
2) Just because something is miserably hard, doesn't mean that it's not fun.
3) Just because something is miserably hard, doesn't mean that it's not rewarding.
Happy Wanawersary
Yesterday was my ranarusary. 9 hot banging years. Yup. We spent the day being homeschooler parents. It was neat. We went on a homeschool field trip. Homeschoolers are neat creatures. I can say this because I was homeschooled. So, I have the green go card that says "you may make homeschooler jokes". I love making homeschooler jokes. Honestly, it's like an out-of-jail-free card. Because, if there is EVER a moment where you make a blundering mistake - educationally, or your pals are talking about something that you have no idea what they're talking about, or maybe even you wear something just a little bit awesome - it's just a simple "I was homeschooled". It's down right magical. You will get the soft nervy chuckles when you say that. But that's it. They don't make fun of you - they just understand. I love it. And still use it - 15 years later.
Ok, so homeschooley day. It was a treasure. We got to check out what life was like back in the old days. Like Farmer Boy era. Murnice loved it. Big D came too. And we spent the day holding hands for 1/2 second intervals and making out. Ew. It was a mild mid 70s. The wind was blowing thru the tall weedy grass. And we were having as a romantic time as could be on homeschooley day. My mind is thinking "my, I think this is my favorite kranakrusary yet".
But then something happened. We were in the wood carving shop. Mmmm the smells of freshly shaved wood. The light, gently sending soft pats of love through the dusty windows onto the worn floors. I'm falling gently in love with the moment. Big D walks up behind me and very sweetly rubs my arm. He bends his head over close to my ear, peaks down my shirt, and says "babe, I was wondering what you thought about-" . . . . .
And I thought he was going to say "going out to get something to eat tonight" or "going to the beach tonight" or "hiding over there in that corner and doing it" or "inviting friends over for a pizza party tonight"
. . . . .
No. Instead, he said: "babe, I was wondering what you thought about me going out with Rich and Wade tonight".
WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!
Are you kidding the sheep skin off my butt right now? That's not actually what I said. I think it included some pirate verbiage. I lost my poopy squirts for about 3 minutes. I ran out of that romantic wood shaving shed and hollared and tooted and roared. And asked Betty Boop if she could believe what just happened in there. And asked Honey (because she came too) if she could believe what just happened in there. Hot dingle berry. Are you for real? Did you, did you really just ask me that question?
And then poor Big D who clearly did not place his head on properly that morning, came around to his senses and apologized. He got on his knees and begged forgiveness. I did. I forgave him. Because Jesus tells us to.
And then we held hands again in 1/2 second intervals and made out.
Take Aways
1) Homeschooler friends are neat. They're full of jokes.
2) Romantic moments rarely work.
3) After 9 years Big D is catching on slowly and realizing that stupid questions are not appreciated.
4) I love when he apologizes.
5) Old tool sheds are perfect ;)
Ok, so homeschooley day. It was a treasure. We got to check out what life was like back in the old days. Like Farmer Boy era. Murnice loved it. Big D came too. And we spent the day holding hands for 1/2 second intervals and making out. Ew. It was a mild mid 70s. The wind was blowing thru the tall weedy grass. And we were having as a romantic time as could be on homeschooley day. My mind is thinking "my, I think this is my favorite kranakrusary yet".
But then something happened. We were in the wood carving shop. Mmmm the smells of freshly shaved wood. The light, gently sending soft pats of love through the dusty windows onto the worn floors. I'm falling gently in love with the moment. Big D walks up behind me and very sweetly rubs my arm. He bends his head over close to my ear, peaks down my shirt, and says "babe, I was wondering what you thought about-" . . . . .
And I thought he was going to say "going out to get something to eat tonight" or "going to the beach tonight" or "hiding over there in that corner and doing it" or "inviting friends over for a pizza party tonight"
. . . . .
No. Instead, he said: "babe, I was wondering what you thought about me going out with Rich and Wade tonight".
WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!
Are you kidding the sheep skin off my butt right now? That's not actually what I said. I think it included some pirate verbiage. I lost my poopy squirts for about 3 minutes. I ran out of that romantic wood shaving shed and hollared and tooted and roared. And asked Betty Boop if she could believe what just happened in there. And asked Honey (because she came too) if she could believe what just happened in there. Hot dingle berry. Are you for real? Did you, did you really just ask me that question?
And then poor Big D who clearly did not place his head on properly that morning, came around to his senses and apologized. He got on his knees and begged forgiveness. I did. I forgave him. Because Jesus tells us to.
And then we held hands again in 1/2 second intervals and made out.
Take Aways
1) Homeschooler friends are neat. They're full of jokes.
2) Romantic moments rarely work.
3) After 9 years Big D is catching on slowly and realizing that stupid questions are not appreciated.
4) I love when he apologizes.
5) Old tool sheds are perfect ;)
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