Gillian and I were stopped at a busy intersection on our way home from a long day at Mammy's (my mom). Suddenly, a man exited the red construction company-owned (the name of the biz was plastered on the rear view mirror) truck in front of us and slowly made his way to the 7-11 at the corner. He was a short, scrawny guy, dirty from a full day at a dusty site I am sure. His clothes were old and ripped and his smallish head was ensconced in a blue bandana.
"LOOOK MOMMA! LOOOK!" Gillian yelled and pointed her finger out the open car window. She was pointing at the construction worker. I figured she would ask why he got out of his truck to go to 7-11. Or maybe she was gonna ask him to buy her a slurpee. Who KNOWS what my child is ever gonna say. Before I could remind her that it was rude to point at people she giggled and YELLED: IT'S A PIRATE!! A PIRATE!! MOMMMMAAAAA!!!! THAT GUY IS A PIRATE!!!!
I just burst out laughing. I threw my head back and laughed and laughed. I should have scolded her, but well, the dude DID look like a pirate! He just needed an eyepatch and an earring.
Then Gillian said LOUDLY and EXCITEDLY, "And that PIRATE doesn't have a SHIP he has a PIRATE TRUCK!!" And she pointed to the truck. She was right. The name on the back window said "Pirate Construction and Excavating" with a pirate for a logo. So thaaaaat's why she thought the construction worker was a pirate. Probably some good ol' Barboursville Pirate boys runnin' that business. But you don't really think of Pirates as BUILDING antyhing. Don't they usually pillage and burn?
The guy looked over his shoulder at us and gave Gilly a half-hearted smile and a little wave. She smiled and waved back.
"Awwwww" she said"He's a NICE pirate. You think he's gonna get a slurpee?"
"DO NOT ask that man to buy you a slurpee!" I said laughing, hitting the gas as the light finally and mercifully turned green.
"I wasn't gonna!! But I bet he would. What a nice little PI-rate."
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Honey, Honey
We call my backdoor neighboor "The Farmer." All year long, The Farmer has a full garden in our adjoining backyards. My family and I often partake in this cornucopial bounty, as The Farmer is very generous with his crops. Corn, green beans, snap peas and-my fave-fresh homegrown asparagus. Oh man, the asparagus. Homegrown asparagus tastes so much better than the half-dead grocery store stuff. Straight from the ground, aparagus is sweeter, crisper, and it's color is a much more vivid jade green even after cooking.
It was recently revealed to us that The Farmer also has bee hives "out in the country." A few days ago, he graced our family with a jar of honey, just culled early that morning from his hives. I was so excited, I requested Brian make a fresh batch of iced green tea (he makes it so much better than I do). Gillian bounced into the kitchen as we were drizzling the glorious golden goodness into the tea maker.
"What is that?" she asked, her brown eyes full of curiosity.
"Honey." Brian and I said simulatneously.
"What is that?" She repeated.
"Honey." I said as I played with the spoon in the jar, making pretty patterns w/ the syrupy strings as I added more to the tea maker.
"Momma. What. Is. THAT." Gillian pointed to the jar.
"Hon-ey." I said slowly and directly.
She sighed and tossed her back in frustration.
"Momma. What is in THAT jar?"
I stopped and tought about my answer. Seeing no alternative I once again stated simply and slowly,"Hoonnneeeeyyyy."
Gillian stared at the jar in consternation. Then she turned those huge, soulful eyes to mine (which are hazel and not brown, I would like to point out). "Honey, what is in that jar?" she finally asked.
Brian and I just burst out laughing, which made her laugh, too, although she didn't know why.
I guess she thought that Brian and I were correcting her (as we sometimes do), making her address us as "Honey," before we would answer her. Much like we ask her to remember her pleases and thank yous!
I abandoned the spoon in the jar and scooped up my silly, funny almost-six-year old little girl. When I stopped laughing, I explained to her that in the jar was HONEY from a bee hive and that the farmer had given the jar to us a few mintues ago. Gilly knows that bees live in hives and make honey (probably thanks to 'A Bee Movie'). She had just never seen it in a jar before!!
It was recently revealed to us that The Farmer also has bee hives "out in the country." A few days ago, he graced our family with a jar of honey, just culled early that morning from his hives. I was so excited, I requested Brian make a fresh batch of iced green tea (he makes it so much better than I do). Gillian bounced into the kitchen as we were drizzling the glorious golden goodness into the tea maker.
"What is that?" she asked, her brown eyes full of curiosity.
"Honey." Brian and I said simulatneously.
"What is that?" She repeated.
"Honey." I said as I played with the spoon in the jar, making pretty patterns w/ the syrupy strings as I added more to the tea maker.
"Momma. What. Is. THAT." Gillian pointed to the jar.
"Hon-ey." I said slowly and directly.
She sighed and tossed her back in frustration.
"Momma. What is in THAT jar?"
I stopped and tought about my answer. Seeing no alternative I once again stated simply and slowly,"Hoonnneeeeyyyy."
Gillian stared at the jar in consternation. Then she turned those huge, soulful eyes to mine (which are hazel and not brown, I would like to point out). "Honey, what is in that jar?" she finally asked.
Brian and I just burst out laughing, which made her laugh, too, although she didn't know why.
I guess she thought that Brian and I were correcting her (as we sometimes do), making her address us as "Honey," before we would answer her. Much like we ask her to remember her pleases and thank yous!
I abandoned the spoon in the jar and scooped up my silly, funny almost-six-year old little girl. When I stopped laughing, I explained to her that in the jar was HONEY from a bee hive and that the farmer had given the jar to us a few mintues ago. Gilly knows that bees live in hives and make honey (probably thanks to 'A Bee Movie'). She had just never seen it in a jar before!!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Traveling with a five year old, no matter the distance is always dramatic. Traveling with a five year old plus a 60 year old grandmother with severe rheumatoid arthritis AND an ornery, cantankerous-yet extraorinarily healthy 80 year old GREAT grandmother is always traumatic.
This past spring Gillian, my mother and grandmother and I were trekking up and over to Columbus, OH for my aunt's birthday. My family has been making regular visits to The Buckeye State for almost as long as I could remember. At a mere 150 miles away, Columbus should be a quick 3 hour trip. But before PaPaw, my grandfather, had gotten sick and passed away, he and Nan Nan (my grandmother) could stretch out the drive to make it more like a 5-6 hour half-day excursion. Unfortunately, there is no direct interstate highway connection to Columbus from Huntington, WV and for much of the trip old state routes and backroads are taken. These roads are riddled with my grandparents own personal Meccas: THRIFT STORES.
There are probably thrity or forty Goodwills, Salvation Army stores and good ol' fashioned "Second-handed Stores" along the way. Nan Nan and Pappers used to stop AT EVERY ONE. Being an antiques freak AND a cheapskate by nature (what can I say? It's in my genes) I was quite happy to shop along with them back in my younger, care-and child-free days. But my grandfather has since passed away. My arthritic mom is physically incapable of dragging out the trip any longer than necessary. And while Gillian is a seasoned traveller, she does get antsy in the car. That means, much to Nan Nan's dismay, that we make ONE stop, half-way there for a super-quick potty/coffee break at a McDonalds (my grandparents shared an unholy fear of Rest Stops and my Nanners still avoids them at all costs).
At this particular stop, we decided to grab lunch on the go. While I was gnoshing on my Cheeseburger Happy Meal and creeping thru one of the many 35mph speed traps, I grabbed my bucket of sweet tea for a quick, cool sip. It was stiflingly hot in the car because Nanners cannot tolerate air conditioning as it gives her a headache and makes her cough. Well, the tea cooled me off all right. The cheap styrofoam cup collapsed and cracked all the way apart. Instantly, my crotch, legs and thighs were drenched with the entire contents of my $1 large sweet tea, ice cubes and all. My immediate reaction was to look down and scream!! I lifted my sizezble posterior off of the car seat in reaction, but this proved to be an ill-fated move as the ice and liquid made their way between my legs, thru my undies and onto the seat I had to sit in for ANOTHER hour and a healf.
Because it was a quick 2.5 day trip and I was trying to pack light, I had planned to wear my jeans all weekend and did not pack an extra pair of pants. Besides, where would I go to change? It looked as if I had peed A GALLON on myself!!! I couldn't walk into a place of business looking like that! I spotted a closed-for-the-season Christmas Emporium and stopped in the parking lot. Lucky for me, the lot was also home to a string of storage units. I pulled up as close as I could to the units, positioning the car so that once open, the car door and storage building would make a nice shelter for my semi-nakedness. Mom hobbled out of the car and ransacked my overnight bag for some pajama bottoms as they were the only alternative. She was gonna get some fresh undies but I didn't want to be full frontally exposed on the side of the road, even for a spit second.
I was effectively blocked from any roadside specators as I crouched behind the open car door. Looking skyward as I shimmied out of my wet britches, I happened to notice a security camera perched directly over my head on the roof of the units. Of course. It was probably capturing every minute of this escapade. I thought for a brief second that it was a fake to deterr any would-be robbers, but it moved and made a noise, soooo I guess it was real. So much for modesty! I made a note to search You Tube later for a video feed of my panties-and-cellutlite clad self. Then came the dilemma of what to do about the very wet driver's seat. We spied a Dollar General Store across the street where we could buy a towel or two, and in the meantime, the seat was covered in trashbags ( my dad always keeps spare trash bags in the trunk-I don't wanna know why).
Thirty minutes later, Mom and Nan Nan emerged with bags full of not only towels but candy, chips and drinks. YAY!! Snacks! My burger was also a casualty of the ice tea fiasco. I only got one bite before I dropped it and screamed at my ice-cold crotch. But I wasn't about to open another drink in the car during the trip. Well, I wasn't allowed to. My mom may be sick, but when she aims those claws at you, you cringe! She snatched a pop bottle outta my hands and pointedly put it bag in the yellow and black shopping bag. *Sigh*
We were off again, me with dry pants and, thanks to surprisingly absorbent cheap towels, a dry seat. A few minutes later, Nan Nan sighed and muttered at the window, "I don't know why we cain't stop at one-o-them stores (thrift store). It ain't like we're in a hurry 'er nuthin."
Well, maybe SHE wasn't in a hurry but I was eager to get to Aunt Gwen's so I could wash my jeans, and look for my roadside fanny on the internet!
This past spring Gillian, my mother and grandmother and I were trekking up and over to Columbus, OH for my aunt's birthday. My family has been making regular visits to The Buckeye State for almost as long as I could remember. At a mere 150 miles away, Columbus should be a quick 3 hour trip. But before PaPaw, my grandfather, had gotten sick and passed away, he and Nan Nan (my grandmother) could stretch out the drive to make it more like a 5-6 hour half-day excursion. Unfortunately, there is no direct interstate highway connection to Columbus from Huntington, WV and for much of the trip old state routes and backroads are taken. These roads are riddled with my grandparents own personal Meccas: THRIFT STORES.
There are probably thrity or forty Goodwills, Salvation Army stores and good ol' fashioned "Second-handed Stores" along the way. Nan Nan and Pappers used to stop AT EVERY ONE. Being an antiques freak AND a cheapskate by nature (what can I say? It's in my genes) I was quite happy to shop along with them back in my younger, care-and child-free days. But my grandfather has since passed away. My arthritic mom is physically incapable of dragging out the trip any longer than necessary. And while Gillian is a seasoned traveller, she does get antsy in the car. That means, much to Nan Nan's dismay, that we make ONE stop, half-way there for a super-quick potty/coffee break at a McDonalds (my grandparents shared an unholy fear of Rest Stops and my Nanners still avoids them at all costs).
At this particular stop, we decided to grab lunch on the go. While I was gnoshing on my Cheeseburger Happy Meal and creeping thru one of the many 35mph speed traps, I grabbed my bucket of sweet tea for a quick, cool sip. It was stiflingly hot in the car because Nanners cannot tolerate air conditioning as it gives her a headache and makes her cough. Well, the tea cooled me off all right. The cheap styrofoam cup collapsed and cracked all the way apart. Instantly, my crotch, legs and thighs were drenched with the entire contents of my $1 large sweet tea, ice cubes and all. My immediate reaction was to look down and scream!! I lifted my sizezble posterior off of the car seat in reaction, but this proved to be an ill-fated move as the ice and liquid made their way between my legs, thru my undies and onto the seat I had to sit in for ANOTHER hour and a healf.
Because it was a quick 2.5 day trip and I was trying to pack light, I had planned to wear my jeans all weekend and did not pack an extra pair of pants. Besides, where would I go to change? It looked as if I had peed A GALLON on myself!!! I couldn't walk into a place of business looking like that! I spotted a closed-for-the-season Christmas Emporium and stopped in the parking lot. Lucky for me, the lot was also home to a string of storage units. I pulled up as close as I could to the units, positioning the car so that once open, the car door and storage building would make a nice shelter for my semi-nakedness. Mom hobbled out of the car and ransacked my overnight bag for some pajama bottoms as they were the only alternative. She was gonna get some fresh undies but I didn't want to be full frontally exposed on the side of the road, even for a spit second.
I was effectively blocked from any roadside specators as I crouched behind the open car door. Looking skyward as I shimmied out of my wet britches, I happened to notice a security camera perched directly over my head on the roof of the units. Of course. It was probably capturing every minute of this escapade. I thought for a brief second that it was a fake to deterr any would-be robbers, but it moved and made a noise, soooo I guess it was real. So much for modesty! I made a note to search You Tube later for a video feed of my panties-and-cellutlite clad self. Then came the dilemma of what to do about the very wet driver's seat. We spied a Dollar General Store across the street where we could buy a towel or two, and in the meantime, the seat was covered in trashbags ( my dad always keeps spare trash bags in the trunk-I don't wanna know why).
Thirty minutes later, Mom and Nan Nan emerged with bags full of not only towels but candy, chips and drinks. YAY!! Snacks! My burger was also a casualty of the ice tea fiasco. I only got one bite before I dropped it and screamed at my ice-cold crotch. But I wasn't about to open another drink in the car during the trip. Well, I wasn't allowed to. My mom may be sick, but when she aims those claws at you, you cringe! She snatched a pop bottle outta my hands and pointedly put it bag in the yellow and black shopping bag. *Sigh*
We were off again, me with dry pants and, thanks to surprisingly absorbent cheap towels, a dry seat. A few minutes later, Nan Nan sighed and muttered at the window, "I don't know why we cain't stop at one-o-them stores (thrift store). It ain't like we're in a hurry 'er nuthin."
Well, maybe SHE wasn't in a hurry but I was eager to get to Aunt Gwen's so I could wash my jeans, and look for my roadside fanny on the internet!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Ring-a-Bling-Bling!
I recently heard a radio deejay bashing Kim Cardashian (WHY is she famous again?) for buying her own engagement ring. Mostly, I think because the chic is not even officially engaged. BUt upon interviewing her on-air it was discovered that she merely has the diamond selected. NOT the ring itself. But the deejay is a silly boy and jsut didn't get it. We were discussing this at work and quite a few of my co-workers felt the same. That a woman shoud NOT buy her own ring. She shouldn even be present when it is purchased. I found it shocking that people, women, would feel this way.
As many of you know, I grew up in the bridal biz. My mother was the owner of a small boutique. Her clientele varied but one thing that remained constant among the brides was THE RING. Whether it was a small diamond chiplet, a huge multi-faceted heart shaped monstrosity or the exquisitely perfect emerald cut, THE RING was always ogled, examined and reveered. But that wasn't always the case.
In the long, long ago before times, in the olden days even, a man gave his beloved an heirloom ring to welcome her into the family. It wasn't necessarily a diamond. Diamonds and white wedding gowns became en vogue thanks to Queen Victoria (who, on her wedding day, donned herself in a never-before-seen dress of while and bespeckled her ears and neck with diamonds-surprisingly there were none on her fingers!) of England.
Ever since then, it has been diamonds and white dresses for brides.
The Victorian era brought the diamond engagement ring into popularity and men were visiting jewelry stores in droves. Back then, a man relied on the help of store clerks to select a ring for his sweetie to wear for the rest of their lives together. He got on one knee, she said yes they lived happily ever after. Then came the 60's and 70's. Suddenly women were shopping with their fiances and men were propsing withOUT a ring. The Feminist Movement woke up the female population. We didn't have to wear somethign that grandma wore. We didn't have to wear a ring tht a stranger had selected. WE HAD A CHOICE.
Then. The 1980's. Materialism, wallstreet and the Feminists of the previous era gave us powerful working women with their own disposable income. 80's women were paying for the entire wedding on their own, or the couple split the cost. Ring and all.
It should come as no surprise that women today select and purchase their own rings before they even acquire a fiance. Let's not forget that Britney Spears bought her own engagement ring when she agreed to marry Kevin Federline. Liz Taylor has funded countless engagement rings of her own.
Its just what we do these days. ALL women, not just the rich-n-famous. We are ALL women who know what we want and if we have to go out and get it on our own, we will!
So Kim Cardashian has a giant diamond on reserve for her in a jewelry store safe. Good for her. She has taken the pressure of her future fiance. And maybe they can design the setting of the diamond and the matching wedding band together.
After all, these days (especially with celeb-or pseudocelebrity-weddings) the bling may faaaaarrr outlast the union!!!!
As many of you know, I grew up in the bridal biz. My mother was the owner of a small boutique. Her clientele varied but one thing that remained constant among the brides was THE RING. Whether it was a small diamond chiplet, a huge multi-faceted heart shaped monstrosity or the exquisitely perfect emerald cut, THE RING was always ogled, examined and reveered. But that wasn't always the case.
In the long, long ago before times, in the olden days even, a man gave his beloved an heirloom ring to welcome her into the family. It wasn't necessarily a diamond. Diamonds and white wedding gowns became en vogue thanks to Queen Victoria (who, on her wedding day, donned herself in a never-before-seen dress of while and bespeckled her ears and neck with diamonds-surprisingly there were none on her fingers!) of England.
Ever since then, it has been diamonds and white dresses for brides.
The Victorian era brought the diamond engagement ring into popularity and men were visiting jewelry stores in droves. Back then, a man relied on the help of store clerks to select a ring for his sweetie to wear for the rest of their lives together. He got on one knee, she said yes they lived happily ever after. Then came the 60's and 70's. Suddenly women were shopping with their fiances and men were propsing withOUT a ring. The Feminist Movement woke up the female population. We didn't have to wear somethign that grandma wore. We didn't have to wear a ring tht a stranger had selected. WE HAD A CHOICE.
Then. The 1980's. Materialism, wallstreet and the Feminists of the previous era gave us powerful working women with their own disposable income. 80's women were paying for the entire wedding on their own, or the couple split the cost. Ring and all.
It should come as no surprise that women today select and purchase their own rings before they even acquire a fiance. Let's not forget that Britney Spears bought her own engagement ring when she agreed to marry Kevin Federline. Liz Taylor has funded countless engagement rings of her own.
Its just what we do these days. ALL women, not just the rich-n-famous. We are ALL women who know what we want and if we have to go out and get it on our own, we will!
So Kim Cardashian has a giant diamond on reserve for her in a jewelry store safe. Good for her. She has taken the pressure of her future fiance. And maybe they can design the setting of the diamond and the matching wedding band together.
After all, these days (especially with celeb-or pseudocelebrity-weddings) the bling may faaaaarrr outlast the union!!!!
Friday, June 12, 2009
No one better mess with 'Da Newsies!'
Me: (randomly starting a conversation that I had half-finished in my head): What was that guy's name in Titanic? The one whose acting was reeeeeallly bad?
Brian: Everyone's acting was bad in Titanic.
Me: What? That movie was AWESOME! We'll argue about that later. Anyway, he was the guy diggin' stuff up off the ship. Bill. Bill Something.
Brian: The guy from Big Love?Me: Yeah! That guy. He was in Twister, too.
Brian: Bill-At the same time he said "Pullman!" I offered "Paxton!"
Me: It's Paxton. Bill Paxton. Whew! I am glad I figured that out!
Brian: No, Bill Pullman was in Titanic and Twister.
Me: No, it was Bill Paxton. Bill Pullman was in While You Were Sleeping.
Brian: That was Peter Gallagher.
Me: Right. Peter was the one Sandy B. THOUGHT she was in love with. Bill PULLMAN was the one she married.
Brian: No, that was Bill Paxton. That guy was the President in Independence Day with Will Smith.
Me: HA! WRONG!!!! Bill PULLMAN was the Pres in Independence Day AND that SAME actor was in Newsies and BILL PULLMAN, most certainly NOT Bill PAXTON, was in NEWSIES.
Finally, Brian conceeded. Who knows why I was even thinking about Titanic to begin with. It was semi-important at the time. Oh well. The point is, I won an argument based on my unmatched knowledge of all things Newsies.
Brian knows better than to mess with me and my Newsies!!
Brian: Everyone's acting was bad in Titanic.
Me: What? That movie was AWESOME! We'll argue about that later. Anyway, he was the guy diggin' stuff up off the ship. Bill. Bill Something.
Brian: The guy from Big Love?Me: Yeah! That guy. He was in Twister, too.
Brian: Bill-At the same time he said "Pullman!" I offered "Paxton!"
Me: It's Paxton. Bill Paxton. Whew! I am glad I figured that out!
Brian: No, Bill Pullman was in Titanic and Twister.
Me: No, it was Bill Paxton. Bill Pullman was in While You Were Sleeping.
Brian: That was Peter Gallagher.
Me: Right. Peter was the one Sandy B. THOUGHT she was in love with. Bill PULLMAN was the one she married.
Brian: No, that was Bill Paxton. That guy was the President in Independence Day with Will Smith.
Me: HA! WRONG!!!! Bill PULLMAN was the Pres in Independence Day AND that SAME actor was in Newsies and BILL PULLMAN, most certainly NOT Bill PAXTON, was in NEWSIES.
Finally, Brian conceeded. Who knows why I was even thinking about Titanic to begin with. It was semi-important at the time. Oh well. The point is, I won an argument based on my unmatched knowledge of all things Newsies.
Brian knows better than to mess with me and my Newsies!!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Ugly Laughing: The Prequel
Once upon a time I went to a wedding. It wasn't a fairy tale wedding, far from it. More a bridal scene from a bad Soap Opera. But that is a WHOLE 'nuther story as they say.
Brian and I drove with Nan Nan, my maternal grandmother, to Ohio (Columbus, to be exact) just for the nuptuals of my cousin and his*gulp* fiance. We got lost twice and accidentally took the long way from WV to Ohio (considering WV and OH share a border and a river, that's pretty sad). So a 3 hour trip took almost 5, not to mention I had already driven 4 hours that day to drop Gillian off to her dad. By the time we arrived (late) at the rehearsal dinner, I was worn-out, cranky and had a tummy ache from eating lunch too fast in the car.
The bride's family had rented out a small banquet room in a quaint Italian restaurant. The food was great but the tension in the room was overwhelming. There had been a family feud involving the bride and almost every member of our extended family for some time now. So add all of that animosity to my already bad mood and I was on the verge of a breakdown.
As I was scrambling to keep it all together, my sister aimed her camera at Brian and me. I automatically leaned in and fake smiled. As soon as the digital picture popped up on the screen, Holly started laughing and snorting. I knew I looked pretty heinous, being all tired 'n everything but it couldn't be THAT funny. Holly showed me the camera and even with my dead eyes I thought it was an okay pic. Brian had his arm around me and we looked all snuggly, if not a little tired. Then I saw it. RIGHT BEHIND us, just off to the side, was my Nan Nan's floating head. My silly granny must have stuck her head in the shot at the last minute. Her pale Mary Kay powedered face caught most of the camera flash in the dimly-lit room. Brian and I were flesh tone. Nanner's skin was sheet white, her face twisted in a crazy, ghoulish smile, hands splayed on either side of her head. She looked like a poltergiest.
.
To say that I was entertained by the picture would be an understatement of epic proportions. I had barely been keeping myself in check anyway. And this wacky pic sent me right over that proverbial edge. I burst into hysterical laughter. Within minutes, I was laughing so hard, my lungs ached and my tummy was hurting even more. The mascara I had so tenuously applied in the car (to save time) just moments before our arrival was running in clumpy, black rivers down my face.
Before I could stop myself, it was happening.
I was ugly laughing. This had to be the WORST CASE of Ugly Laughing the world had ever seen. I had been trying to dab off the unruly eye make up AS I WAS LAUGHING (thereby producing more pesky tears) because as hard as I tried I could NOT stop. But the dabbing was making it worse. And the mascara was so fresh, instead of running all over my face in easy-to-wipe-off, scattered pieces, the stuff was turning into toxic sludge. The Almay Mascara for Sensitive Eyes turns out to be not so gentle when it is being dissolved directly into your eyeballs. It burns like an evil beeeotch!!
The tears of laughter were coming so fast. The more I wiped the worse I looked.
My reflection in Holly's Tiffany & Co. compact was horrifying. My face was simltaneously purple and splotchy pale with lovely black low-lights streaming from my eye sockets. I was still laughing hysterically when I got up to wash my face in the restoom. A concerned stranger put her hand on my back and asked if I was okay. All I could do was nod and try to breathe. I hiccuped and gasped. I flailed my hands in front of my face. "I'm-*gasp, snort, hysterical sob of laughter*I'm f-f-fine." I stammered. I didn't want the kind stranger worrying about me. I wanted her to know that I wasn't upset,despite the scary tears and magenta face. "Laughing-*hiccup, awkward snorty laugh-sob*-I'm laughing!!"
I'm not sure what the lady's response was. I know she hustled her kid outta there pretty fast, tho!
I was splashing my face with cold water and I even washed my EYES with the foaming hand soap, just to clean off SOME of the mascara that I had inadvertently rubbed into my skin, in my eyes and on my clothing.
I went back out to the 'party' and took my seat. I instructed my sister and my grandmother not to even LOOK in my direction, as it may set me off again.
Surprisingly, I managed to stay slightly composed for the rest of the evening. Although I had an even worse than before belly ache and I was literally sore all over from my Ugly Laughing 'sode.
Holly has the picture she snapped of the three of us: Me, Brian and the Ghost of Nan Nans Present, hopefully I can find it and steal it from her to post along with this blog. THEN you'll get it!!
As for the actual wedding, as I mentioned before, it has it's own story. But I'll save that for another time.
Like, never.
Brian and I drove with Nan Nan, my maternal grandmother, to Ohio (Columbus, to be exact) just for the nuptuals of my cousin and his*gulp* fiance. We got lost twice and accidentally took the long way from WV to Ohio (considering WV and OH share a border and a river, that's pretty sad). So a 3 hour trip took almost 5, not to mention I had already driven 4 hours that day to drop Gillian off to her dad. By the time we arrived (late) at the rehearsal dinner, I was worn-out, cranky and had a tummy ache from eating lunch too fast in the car.
The bride's family had rented out a small banquet room in a quaint Italian restaurant. The food was great but the tension in the room was overwhelming. There had been a family feud involving the bride and almost every member of our extended family for some time now. So add all of that animosity to my already bad mood and I was on the verge of a breakdown.
As I was scrambling to keep it all together, my sister aimed her camera at Brian and me. I automatically leaned in and fake smiled. As soon as the digital picture popped up on the screen, Holly started laughing and snorting. I knew I looked pretty heinous, being all tired 'n everything but it couldn't be THAT funny. Holly showed me the camera and even with my dead eyes I thought it was an okay pic. Brian had his arm around me and we looked all snuggly, if not a little tired. Then I saw it. RIGHT BEHIND us, just off to the side, was my Nan Nan's floating head. My silly granny must have stuck her head in the shot at the last minute. Her pale Mary Kay powedered face caught most of the camera flash in the dimly-lit room. Brian and I were flesh tone. Nanner's skin was sheet white, her face twisted in a crazy, ghoulish smile, hands splayed on either side of her head. She looked like a poltergiest.
.
To say that I was entertained by the picture would be an understatement of epic proportions. I had barely been keeping myself in check anyway. And this wacky pic sent me right over that proverbial edge. I burst into hysterical laughter. Within minutes, I was laughing so hard, my lungs ached and my tummy was hurting even more. The mascara I had so tenuously applied in the car (to save time) just moments before our arrival was running in clumpy, black rivers down my face.
Before I could stop myself, it was happening.
I was ugly laughing. This had to be the WORST CASE of Ugly Laughing the world had ever seen. I had been trying to dab off the unruly eye make up AS I WAS LAUGHING (thereby producing more pesky tears) because as hard as I tried I could NOT stop. But the dabbing was making it worse. And the mascara was so fresh, instead of running all over my face in easy-to-wipe-off, scattered pieces, the stuff was turning into toxic sludge. The Almay Mascara for Sensitive Eyes turns out to be not so gentle when it is being dissolved directly into your eyeballs. It burns like an evil beeeotch!!
The tears of laughter were coming so fast. The more I wiped the worse I looked.
My reflection in Holly's Tiffany & Co. compact was horrifying. My face was simltaneously purple and splotchy pale with lovely black low-lights streaming from my eye sockets. I was still laughing hysterically when I got up to wash my face in the restoom. A concerned stranger put her hand on my back and asked if I was okay. All I could do was nod and try to breathe. I hiccuped and gasped. I flailed my hands in front of my face. "I'm-*gasp, snort, hysterical sob of laughter*I'm f-f-fine." I stammered. I didn't want the kind stranger worrying about me. I wanted her to know that I wasn't upset,despite the scary tears and magenta face. "Laughing-*hiccup, awkward snorty laugh-sob*-I'm laughing!!"
I'm not sure what the lady's response was. I know she hustled her kid outta there pretty fast, tho!
I was splashing my face with cold water and I even washed my EYES with the foaming hand soap, just to clean off SOME of the mascara that I had inadvertently rubbed into my skin, in my eyes and on my clothing.
I went back out to the 'party' and took my seat. I instructed my sister and my grandmother not to even LOOK in my direction, as it may set me off again.
Surprisingly, I managed to stay slightly composed for the rest of the evening. Although I had an even worse than before belly ache and I was literally sore all over from my Ugly Laughing 'sode.
Holly has the picture she snapped of the three of us: Me, Brian and the Ghost of Nan Nans Present, hopefully I can find it and steal it from her to post along with this blog. THEN you'll get it!!
As for the actual wedding, as I mentioned before, it has it's own story. But I'll save that for another time.
Like, never.
Wii, Wii, Wii, All the Way Home
After an AWE-wait for it-SOME evening of fun, food and a globe-trotting friends reunion, Brian and I called it an early evening and set off to relieve my exhausted mother from Gillian duty. He and I arrived at my mother's house only to find that Gillian had meandered over to the neighbor's to play. There, Brian and I discovered a battle comparable to The End of Days.
Thirteen year old Lauren was getting her butt handed to her by my five year old video game prodigy. The two were playing Wii Bowling. They had been playing all of ten minutes and Gillian, clad in a turquoise-and-white polka dot sundress w/ rainbow spaghetti straps and a half pony-tail, had already made two strikes and a few spares. Gillian is what I call a sore winner. If she loses she usually just smiles shyly and shruggs it off. But if she is winning? Oh man, Pro Wrestlers have nothin on this girl's smack-talk. She jumps up, does a wiggly dance of victory, then gets all up in yo' face and sings "I beeeeaaat you!! I beeeeaaat you!" Then she will give you a play-by-play of exACTly how she "beeeeaaat you!"
After the bowling victory, Gillian proceeded to beat the Wii out of Lauren's Mii during a boxing match. Lauren was trying to get in jabs and dance some fancy foot work. Gillian was just pummeling and kicking the air with all of her preschooler might. If Lauren paused to take a breath, Gillian would SCREAM at her "FIGHT! FIGHT ME LAUREN! FIIIIIGGGHHHTTT!!" It was very "BRING IT, BITCH!!" sounding.
After Gillian had won both bowling and boxing matches, it was time to go home. We promised she could come back the next day and kick Lauren's Wii little butt again. As we left the house, Gilly and Brian held hands and skipped down the brick sidewalk together. It was very dark outside because of the storms of the day and the fact that it was close to 930pm. The sight of them holding hands and skipping and laughing, well made my heart skip and laugh, too.
We went home, got comfy and we all crashed early. Gillian dreamed last night about defending her Wii title. My lil girl talks in her sleep, and while I couldn't exactly make out the words, I am sure she was taunting Lauren.
I hope our neighbor is preparing for a re-match! Because it is ONNN!!!
Thirteen year old Lauren was getting her butt handed to her by my five year old video game prodigy. The two were playing Wii Bowling. They had been playing all of ten minutes and Gillian, clad in a turquoise-and-white polka dot sundress w/ rainbow spaghetti straps and a half pony-tail, had already made two strikes and a few spares. Gillian is what I call a sore winner. If she loses she usually just smiles shyly and shruggs it off. But if she is winning? Oh man, Pro Wrestlers have nothin on this girl's smack-talk. She jumps up, does a wiggly dance of victory, then gets all up in yo' face and sings "I beeeeaaat you!! I beeeeaaat you!" Then she will give you a play-by-play of exACTly how she "beeeeaaat you!"
After the bowling victory, Gillian proceeded to beat the Wii out of Lauren's Mii during a boxing match. Lauren was trying to get in jabs and dance some fancy foot work. Gillian was just pummeling and kicking the air with all of her preschooler might. If Lauren paused to take a breath, Gillian would SCREAM at her "FIGHT! FIGHT ME LAUREN! FIIIIIGGGHHHTTT!!" It was very "BRING IT, BITCH!!" sounding.
After Gillian had won both bowling and boxing matches, it was time to go home. We promised she could come back the next day and kick Lauren's Wii little butt again. As we left the house, Gilly and Brian held hands and skipped down the brick sidewalk together. It was very dark outside because of the storms of the day and the fact that it was close to 930pm. The sight of them holding hands and skipping and laughing, well made my heart skip and laugh, too.
We went home, got comfy and we all crashed early. Gillian dreamed last night about defending her Wii title. My lil girl talks in her sleep, and while I couldn't exactly make out the words, I am sure she was taunting Lauren.
I hope our neighbor is preparing for a re-match! Because it is ONNN!!!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Wolverine
So we finally knocked a movie off of our growing "Must See" list.
Wolverine was certainly action-packed and there were plenty of gratuitous "Hugh is so hot" scenes. I must admit tho, that there were no where near enough nekkid butt cheeks in the movie. There were exactly two naked Hugh scenes and they were back-to-back. One in the lab and one in the farmhouse. I don't think he even took his shirt off after that. And wasn't the whole point of creating this movie to bring in the female audience? I mean, he had a lover in this movie. He was sweet and sensitive to her and the old folks on the farm. He didn't want his bro to kill a bunch of villagers. So if the producers wanted the women to be drawn in there should certainly have been a lot less clothing in the movie. And not once did we see Liev unclothed. THAT was disappointing for sure!! The fangs were sexy as hell, tho!
Having said that, I have a few questions about the plot.
I had no idea that Logan was immortal. I had no idea that he had a bro. How did we not know this from the other movies. I mean sure, he had bullet-to-the-brain induced amnesia. But during this movie, Sabertooth was hell-bent on killing him. And his reasoning seemed to be 'just because.' So why wouldnt he have popped up in the other movies. These days flicks have too many bad guys anyway. A brother looking for revenge would have been perfectly acceptable.
And in the beginning, why was Logan sick? Oh, and when did he become "Logan?" Was that his last name when he was a sick kid? bc Liev called him that kid name 1/2 the movie and the other half it was Logan. Like Jimmy or Petey or something. Anyway, was he sick bc of the mutation? Was it just then becoming active? And his lil bod was freaking out, in overdrive? Bc clearly the kid never knew about his healing powers and the bone daggers until he killed Liev's dad. Well, his dad, too I guess. I thot that was a bit confusing as well. Jimmy's mom cheated on her Doctor husband with Liev's dad who was a raging drunk? Ugh. That was stupid.
And how come the boys grew up to a certain point and stopped aging? I get that they were immortal. Well, actually, i don't. Not all Mutants are immortal, right? They are just people who have some screwy genes. Logan is regenerative but that started when he was 11 so it would make more sense that his body would keep him as he was right then when the mutation began. But I guess he had to grow up all hot and strong, right?
WHy was Sabertooth immortal? As far as I could tell, he didn't have regenerative powers. So why was he a bazillion years old?
And Gambit. What the CRAP was his power. And I had hoped that the kid playing him would have gotten hotter as a mutant. Bc I think he is creepy and ugly. Apparently I am alone in that opinion. Even straight guys I know who watch him as Riggins on Friday Night Lights understand that he is attractive. But not to me. I found myself distracted during his scenes tryng to figger him out. Both his power and his mystery hot factor.
Will.I.Am. was very good as Spectre. I was surpirsed that I had never noticed how attractive he is. I also never noticed that his name is just plain ol William. Hmmmm...
I was pleased to see Patrick Stewart at the end. But his CGI facelift was disturbing. Altho I know why it was necessary.
The extra scenes were disappointing.
I actually did enjoy the movie overall. I am a huge Hugh fan, and of course he was the whole reason I got pulled into the XMen movie franchise. Just that the plot was a little too...something.
Oh ok, I'll admit it. I just wish there were more butt cheeks in the movie!!
Wolverine was certainly action-packed and there were plenty of gratuitous "Hugh is so hot" scenes. I must admit tho, that there were no where near enough nekkid butt cheeks in the movie. There were exactly two naked Hugh scenes and they were back-to-back. One in the lab and one in the farmhouse. I don't think he even took his shirt off after that. And wasn't the whole point of creating this movie to bring in the female audience? I mean, he had a lover in this movie. He was sweet and sensitive to her and the old folks on the farm. He didn't want his bro to kill a bunch of villagers. So if the producers wanted the women to be drawn in there should certainly have been a lot less clothing in the movie. And not once did we see Liev unclothed. THAT was disappointing for sure!! The fangs were sexy as hell, tho!
Having said that, I have a few questions about the plot.
I had no idea that Logan was immortal. I had no idea that he had a bro. How did we not know this from the other movies. I mean sure, he had bullet-to-the-brain induced amnesia. But during this movie, Sabertooth was hell-bent on killing him. And his reasoning seemed to be 'just because.' So why wouldnt he have popped up in the other movies. These days flicks have too many bad guys anyway. A brother looking for revenge would have been perfectly acceptable.
And in the beginning, why was Logan sick? Oh, and when did he become "Logan?" Was that his last name when he was a sick kid? bc Liev called him that kid name 1/2 the movie and the other half it was Logan. Like Jimmy or Petey or something. Anyway, was he sick bc of the mutation? Was it just then becoming active? And his lil bod was freaking out, in overdrive? Bc clearly the kid never knew about his healing powers and the bone daggers until he killed Liev's dad. Well, his dad, too I guess. I thot that was a bit confusing as well. Jimmy's mom cheated on her Doctor husband with Liev's dad who was a raging drunk? Ugh. That was stupid.
And how come the boys grew up to a certain point and stopped aging? I get that they were immortal. Well, actually, i don't. Not all Mutants are immortal, right? They are just people who have some screwy genes. Logan is regenerative but that started when he was 11 so it would make more sense that his body would keep him as he was right then when the mutation began. But I guess he had to grow up all hot and strong, right?
WHy was Sabertooth immortal? As far as I could tell, he didn't have regenerative powers. So why was he a bazillion years old?
And Gambit. What the CRAP was his power. And I had hoped that the kid playing him would have gotten hotter as a mutant. Bc I think he is creepy and ugly. Apparently I am alone in that opinion. Even straight guys I know who watch him as Riggins on Friday Night Lights understand that he is attractive. But not to me. I found myself distracted during his scenes tryng to figger him out. Both his power and his mystery hot factor.
Will.I.Am. was very good as Spectre. I was surpirsed that I had never noticed how attractive he is. I also never noticed that his name is just plain ol William. Hmmmm...
I was pleased to see Patrick Stewart at the end. But his CGI facelift was disturbing. Altho I know why it was necessary.
The extra scenes were disappointing.
I actually did enjoy the movie overall. I am a huge Hugh fan, and of course he was the whole reason I got pulled into the XMen movie franchise. Just that the plot was a little too...something.
Oh ok, I'll admit it. I just wish there were more butt cheeks in the movie!!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Baby Wipes of Death
As a mother I tend to keep things like band-aids, candy and stickers on hand for various emergency situations. These emergencies can be anything from cuts and scrapes on the playground to an emo sitch at The Disney Store. I also tend to keep my vehicle well-stocked. The backseat of the familyYaris Sedan is loaded with things like kid toys and extra clothes and shoes.
Baby wipes are also a staple for moms. Recently, I picked up some generic wipes in an easy-to-distribute pop-up container at a local discount store. The cartoon picture on the canister was of bright, shiny, happy kids on a playground. The wipes were touted as being hypoallergenic, perfect for the sensitive skin genes I passed on to Gillian.
As it turned out, my five year old daughter was not the first person to use the wipes. After a fun grown up girls' nite at a local Mexican restaurant I decided along with Holly and our childhood friend PJ, to make a run to a local drug store. They were having a sale on our favorite cheap make-up. We piled into the Yaris (after PJ made room for her grow-up self in my packed back seat) and I cracked the seal on my new wipes as we all felt the need to degrease ourselves a bit after dinner. As I opened the can, the smell that wafted up into my eyes, nose and lungs made me gasp, sneeze and cough all at once. The chemical slightly-cholrine bleachy smell was over whelming. I rolled down the window and gasped for air. Holly and PJ rolled their windows down as well, laughing at me for being so cheap as to buy no-name, generic brand baby wipes. I was grateful that I hadn't tried them on Gillian first. Her baby soft skin may have actually dissolved, or at least have suffered chemical burns as a result.
But for some reason (I'm gonna guess it was out of laziness), I did not toss the can of wipes. I kept them in my car. They were good for other things, like getting melted candy out of my car's cup holders. Once, I even used a toxic wipe to polish the dashboard and steering wheel while I waited for Brian and Gillian to exit the grocery store. It seemed the wipes were good for cleaning everything except people.
I guess I forgot to mention that to brian. Poor guy. After eating a dinner of Long John Slivers (I swear my fam does not consume that much greasy food--these events were weeks apart)Brian used a wipe-of-death on his face and hands. He had a bit of a cold and couldn't smell the wipe itself (the first cloud of noxious gas that I inhaled upon unsealing the can seemed to be a one time occurence). But he sure could feel the burning on his face and hands!! "OH MY GOOOOOODDDD! What ARE these things?!" I heard from the direction of our parked car. Gilly and I were examining the local flora and fauna offerings of the local grocery store's pop-up green house. We had decided to 'shop off' some of our LJS dinner. Gillian and I rushed over to our fallen family member. Brian was outside the car, bent over, his hands covering his face.
"Are you okay Brian?" Gilly asked, concerned. "I thought these were BABY WIPES!!!" He said with clenched eyes, shaking the canister in the air.
I couldn't help but laugh. Really, unnecessarily hard. Not quite ugly laughing, but close. "I'm sorry!" I squealed. "They are! They are baby wipes!" Brian dropped the can onto the ground and stumbled over to the greenhouse where he grabbed a garden hose that he had almost tripped over. It was still trickling and he dribbled the tepid water over his face. He wiped off with his shirt and glared at me from behind his glasses w/ red, raw eyes. I was biting my lip, trying not to smile. "I'm sorry." I said failing at my attempts to hold in my guffaws. I don't know why I found it to be so funny, his misery. But I did and I couldn't help it.
"Are those baby wipes for kids you HATE?" He said, still out of breath. "WHY would ANYONE put that stuff on their kid's SKIN? The kids would look like the Joker!" I lost it then. Brian laughed, too and Gillian chimed in with her silly, snorty giggle. We were quite a sight to onlookers, I am sure. But then again, aren't we always?
Needless to say, I DID NOT tell Brian that I had relagated the toxic wipes to car-cleaning duty. He ended up trashing them as soon as we got home. But that doesn't mean I won't buy more. I'll just have to hide them under the driver's seat or something.
I mean, those things got MELTED SUCKER out of my car seat!! Amazing!
Baby wipes are also a staple for moms. Recently, I picked up some generic wipes in an easy-to-distribute pop-up container at a local discount store. The cartoon picture on the canister was of bright, shiny, happy kids on a playground. The wipes were touted as being hypoallergenic, perfect for the sensitive skin genes I passed on to Gillian.
As it turned out, my five year old daughter was not the first person to use the wipes. After a fun grown up girls' nite at a local Mexican restaurant I decided along with Holly and our childhood friend PJ, to make a run to a local drug store. They were having a sale on our favorite cheap make-up. We piled into the Yaris (after PJ made room for her grow-up self in my packed back seat) and I cracked the seal on my new wipes as we all felt the need to degrease ourselves a bit after dinner. As I opened the can, the smell that wafted up into my eyes, nose and lungs made me gasp, sneeze and cough all at once. The chemical slightly-cholrine bleachy smell was over whelming. I rolled down the window and gasped for air. Holly and PJ rolled their windows down as well, laughing at me for being so cheap as to buy no-name, generic brand baby wipes. I was grateful that I hadn't tried them on Gillian first. Her baby soft skin may have actually dissolved, or at least have suffered chemical burns as a result.
But for some reason (I'm gonna guess it was out of laziness), I did not toss the can of wipes. I kept them in my car. They were good for other things, like getting melted candy out of my car's cup holders. Once, I even used a toxic wipe to polish the dashboard and steering wheel while I waited for Brian and Gillian to exit the grocery store. It seemed the wipes were good for cleaning everything except people.
I guess I forgot to mention that to brian. Poor guy. After eating a dinner of Long John Slivers (I swear my fam does not consume that much greasy food--these events were weeks apart)Brian used a wipe-of-death on his face and hands. He had a bit of a cold and couldn't smell the wipe itself (the first cloud of noxious gas that I inhaled upon unsealing the can seemed to be a one time occurence). But he sure could feel the burning on his face and hands!! "OH MY GOOOOOODDDD! What ARE these things?!" I heard from the direction of our parked car. Gilly and I were examining the local flora and fauna offerings of the local grocery store's pop-up green house. We had decided to 'shop off' some of our LJS dinner. Gillian and I rushed over to our fallen family member. Brian was outside the car, bent over, his hands covering his face.
"Are you okay Brian?" Gilly asked, concerned. "I thought these were BABY WIPES!!!" He said with clenched eyes, shaking the canister in the air.
I couldn't help but laugh. Really, unnecessarily hard. Not quite ugly laughing, but close. "I'm sorry!" I squealed. "They are! They are baby wipes!" Brian dropped the can onto the ground and stumbled over to the greenhouse where he grabbed a garden hose that he had almost tripped over. It was still trickling and he dribbled the tepid water over his face. He wiped off with his shirt and glared at me from behind his glasses w/ red, raw eyes. I was biting my lip, trying not to smile. "I'm sorry." I said failing at my attempts to hold in my guffaws. I don't know why I found it to be so funny, his misery. But I did and I couldn't help it.
"Are those baby wipes for kids you HATE?" He said, still out of breath. "WHY would ANYONE put that stuff on their kid's SKIN? The kids would look like the Joker!" I lost it then. Brian laughed, too and Gillian chimed in with her silly, snorty giggle. We were quite a sight to onlookers, I am sure. But then again, aren't we always?
Needless to say, I DID NOT tell Brian that I had relagated the toxic wipes to car-cleaning duty. He ended up trashing them as soon as we got home. But that doesn't mean I won't buy more. I'll just have to hide them under the driver's seat or something.
I mean, those things got MELTED SUCKER out of my car seat!! Amazing!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Artist vs. Furntiure
Please, someone EXPLAIN IT TO MEEEEE!!
How is it that someone so artistic, someone who can put paint and brush to canvas and create spectacular visions of wonder CANNOT PAINT??!
My sister Holly and I painted Gillian's room at Mammy's (my old room) this weekend. Well, to be 100% accurate, we left the walls alone and painted the floor and furniture. Yes, we painted 150 year old original walnut floors. It was decided that painting them would be better for the floor than stripping it because it was thought that perhaps the solvent needed to remove the century and a half of grit and grime just might dissolve the decrepit wood. The furniture, also antiques by today's standard, was painted a lovely 'Dusty Rose Day Glo Puce-y Pink" I think was how Holly put it.
I precariously painted the floor on Friday. Holly arrived bright and early at 11 am Saturday to help with the rest of the grunt work. I got to work on the headboard trusting Holly, the artist, to do her effortless magic on the footboard. My lil sis and I engaged in our typical Summer-n-Holly mindless chatter/banter. It was quite a few minutes before I needed a refill of paint. I headed over to Holly's station, as she was painting out of the can. I stopped, dead-cold in my tracks. I was not prepared for the carnage my eyes beheld.
On Gillian's headboard there were GIANT BLOBS of dripping paint. The entire middle section was unpainted, untouched. Around the delicate curved arch of the top of the bed, bright yellow paint screamed out, taunting me. She had missed it. Surrounding the yellow was a stormy sea of pink. Stormy because there were even more globs, smears and streaks.
"How-Wha? I don't-I... Holly?"
My gorgeous lil sis turned her hypnotic green eyes and bright smile to me. She was blissfully unaware of her...mess. The smile slowly dissolved as she saw my stricken face. Paint brush in mid-air she asked, "What? What is it?"
I blinked rapidly, trying to focus my vision. "You... You can't ... You can't..PAINT!!"
"WHAT? I can so! I can so PAINT!"
And then my shock gave way to Taunting Big Sis mode. I sprang into action, snatching the spongie brush away from her maniacle grip. "Look! Look at that! It's all smeary! And the runs! Oh my GOSH! HOW did you DO THAT??!"
It was unfathomable. Not only is Holly talented in the visual arts, she and I grew up in a Civil War era
home. We were raised on paint vapor and wallpaper paste fumes ('splains a lot, don't it??!). By ages 8and 9, we learned how to faux paint wooden columns to look like they were made of marble. Holly and I cut, diced and stripped layer upon layer of wallpaper off and smoothly back on to uneven walls. She and I were decorating dynamos before our preteen years.
Then I started thinking. I had seen her do those other things, I was right along side her. But paint a flat surface a single color? Hmmmm... I think I recall Mom redirecting her into something else. Something less... restrictive. Yes! Yes, that's it! For Holly, the paint needs to flow, it needs to be coaxed and guided into something beautiful and amazing to behold. To Holly, the paint and brush are merely vessels for her vision. Apparently, she HAS NO VISION (artisitc or otherwise) when painting household goods. Or walls.
No further explanation needed. I get it, sis. You have creative needs that cannot be met or contained by mindless housework. Either that or you are so devious that you constantly mess up on purpose in order to get out of a boring activity. Well, I can repect that, too.
So from now on, when the family is undertaking yet another extreme make over, you are reglated to BABYSITTING DUTY! It's My Lil Pony, SpongeBob and Gilly Raspberries for you from now on!!!
How's THAT for creative genius!!
How is it that someone so artistic, someone who can put paint and brush to canvas and create spectacular visions of wonder CANNOT PAINT??!
My sister Holly and I painted Gillian's room at Mammy's (my old room) this weekend. Well, to be 100% accurate, we left the walls alone and painted the floor and furniture. Yes, we painted 150 year old original walnut floors. It was decided that painting them would be better for the floor than stripping it because it was thought that perhaps the solvent needed to remove the century and a half of grit and grime just might dissolve the decrepit wood. The furniture, also antiques by today's standard, was painted a lovely 'Dusty Rose Day Glo Puce-y Pink" I think was how Holly put it.
I precariously painted the floor on Friday. Holly arrived bright and early at 11 am Saturday to help with the rest of the grunt work. I got to work on the headboard trusting Holly, the artist, to do her effortless magic on the footboard. My lil sis and I engaged in our typical Summer-n-Holly mindless chatter/banter. It was quite a few minutes before I needed a refill of paint. I headed over to Holly's station, as she was painting out of the can. I stopped, dead-cold in my tracks. I was not prepared for the carnage my eyes beheld.
On Gillian's headboard there were GIANT BLOBS of dripping paint. The entire middle section was unpainted, untouched. Around the delicate curved arch of the top of the bed, bright yellow paint screamed out, taunting me. She had missed it. Surrounding the yellow was a stormy sea of pink. Stormy because there were even more globs, smears and streaks.
"How-Wha? I don't-I... Holly?"
My gorgeous lil sis turned her hypnotic green eyes and bright smile to me. She was blissfully unaware of her...mess. The smile slowly dissolved as she saw my stricken face. Paint brush in mid-air she asked, "What? What is it?"
I blinked rapidly, trying to focus my vision. "You... You can't ... You can't..PAINT!!"
"WHAT? I can so! I can so PAINT!"
And then my shock gave way to Taunting Big Sis mode. I sprang into action, snatching the spongie brush away from her maniacle grip. "Look! Look at that! It's all smeary! And the runs! Oh my GOSH! HOW did you DO THAT??!"
It was unfathomable. Not only is Holly talented in the visual arts, she and I grew up in a Civil War era
home. We were raised on paint vapor and wallpaper paste fumes ('splains a lot, don't it??!). By ages 8and 9, we learned how to faux paint wooden columns to look like they were made of marble. Holly and I cut, diced and stripped layer upon layer of wallpaper off and smoothly back on to uneven walls. She and I were decorating dynamos before our preteen years.
Then I started thinking. I had seen her do those other things, I was right along side her. But paint a flat surface a single color? Hmmmm... I think I recall Mom redirecting her into something else. Something less... restrictive. Yes! Yes, that's it! For Holly, the paint needs to flow, it needs to be coaxed and guided into something beautiful and amazing to behold. To Holly, the paint and brush are merely vessels for her vision. Apparently, she HAS NO VISION (artisitc or otherwise) when painting household goods. Or walls.
No further explanation needed. I get it, sis. You have creative needs that cannot be met or contained by mindless housework. Either that or you are so devious that you constantly mess up on purpose in order to get out of a boring activity. Well, I can repect that, too.
So from now on, when the family is undertaking yet another extreme make over, you are reglated to BABYSITTING DUTY! It's My Lil Pony, SpongeBob and Gilly Raspberries for you from now on!!!
How's THAT for creative genius!!
Monday, May 25, 2009
Mrs. WV
Mrs. WV America was crowned this past weekend at Huntington's very own Pullman Plaza hotel. It was a small-ish affair with only 5 candidates but, man, they were five amazing women. The youngest was 24. The oldest was 47!
As one of three judges I was really torn. One of the ladies was a childbirth educator, a post-natal doula and a 'regisitered' feminist (in a beauty pageant?!) who breastfed her twin babies. One of her pix for the program even shows one of her babies nursin gin a family portrait! Another amazing woman had a 7 month old daughter AND a 17 month old! She had gained so much weight from back to back pregnancies and having been on bedrest very early on in both. And here she was in a SWIMSUIT on a STAGE!!! There were three other women, all of them spectacular representatives of the upstanding and devoted women of WV.
The task was not easy, but we made our decision. The momma of the two baby girls won. She was so proud of herself, and she should be! She has done so much to get back in shape and to raise her two girls, with the help of family and friends, of course!
Congratulations and Good Luck at Mrs. America, Andrea!
As one of three judges I was really torn. One of the ladies was a childbirth educator, a post-natal doula and a 'regisitered' feminist (in a beauty pageant?!) who breastfed her twin babies. One of her pix for the program even shows one of her babies nursin gin a family portrait! Another amazing woman had a 7 month old daughter AND a 17 month old! She had gained so much weight from back to back pregnancies and having been on bedrest very early on in both. And here she was in a SWIMSUIT on a STAGE!!! There were three other women, all of them spectacular representatives of the upstanding and devoted women of WV.
The task was not easy, but we made our decision. The momma of the two baby girls won. She was so proud of herself, and she should be! She has done so much to get back in shape and to raise her two girls, with the help of family and friends, of course!
Congratulations and Good Luck at Mrs. America, Andrea!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Matthew McBeefcake
I have the radio on in my office in between clients. Just to drown out the devil's symphony of the ancient dot-matrix printer mixing with the terrified wails of the kids who don't wanna get naked OR get a finger-stick. And who can blame them? I have the radio tuned in to the one station that gets a clear signal in my office. I don't really listen to the music as I can only take so much Brittney Spears, Beyonce ( I EFFING HATE THAT HALO P.O.S. sooonnng!)and that God-awful "boom boom now" crap. I perk up for the deejays chatting and the news blips. At one point, my ears picked up the unmistakable, melodic speaking voice of Matthew McConaughey. I increased the volume and sure enough, Mr McConaughey was doing some sorta voice over. I listened in merry disbelief as I realized the sexy beefcake was hawking...beef. Matthew was talking about beef in his bedroom voice. He was talking up beef as if it were a new sex toy or something. To be sure it was indeed the sexy Texan actor, I did a quick Google search. This was my fave result from that search:
*Why does it fascinate so? Maybe it's because McConaughey plays up his every vocal tic for maximum effect, like he's trying to lure a small child into a windowless van with some candy. Or maybe it's because their new tagline, "Discover the power of protein in the land of lean beef," is so impossibly vomit inducing (and also a little homoerotic). Or perhaps it's because at the end of the day, Matthew delivers his most convincing performance since A Time To Kill. Whatever the reason, it totally works. I ate like 15 burgers this weekend and couldn't be happier.
*I pulled that from gawker.com. That blog was titled Matthew Mc..Creepiest Beef Spokesperson Ever.
Yep, I think that sums it up.
I have the radio on in my office in between clients. Just to drown out the devil's symphony of the ancient dot-matrix printer mixing with the terrified wails of the kids who don't wanna get naked OR get a finger-stick. And who can blame them? I have the radio tuned in to the one station that gets a clear signal in my office. I don't really listen to the music as I can only take so much Brittney Spears, Beyonce ( I EFFING HATE THAT HALO P.O.S. sooonnng!)and that God-awful "boom boom now" crap. I perk up for the deejays chatting and the news blips. At one point, my ears picked up the unmistakable, melodic speaking voice of Matthew McConaughey. I increased the volume and sure enough, Mr McConaughey was doing some sorta voice over. I listened in merry disbelief as I realized the sexy beefcake was hawking...beef. Matthew was talking about beef in his bedroom voice. He was talking up beef as if it were a new sex toy or something. To be sure it was indeed the sexy Texan actor, I did a quick Google search. This was my fave result from that search:
*Why does it fascinate so? Maybe it's because McConaughey plays up his every vocal tic for maximum effect, like he's trying to lure a small child into a windowless van with some candy. Or maybe it's because their new tagline, "Discover the power of protein in the land of lean beef," is so impossibly vomit inducing (and also a little homoerotic). Or perhaps it's because at the end of the day, Matthew delivers his most convincing performance since A Time To Kill. Whatever the reason, it totally works. I ate like 15 burgers this weekend and couldn't be happier.
*I pulled that from gawker.com. That blog was titled Matthew Mc..Creepiest Beef Spokesperson Ever.
Yep, I think that sums it up.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
My little girl is so grown up. I just can't believe it sometimes. Gillian still loves little girl things like dolls, toys, and video games, of course. But she also loves going shopping and getting her nails done (by me- we haven't done the mother daughter mani/pedi--yet!). And oh my, the child is vain. Who can blame her? The child is unearthly GORGEOUS! Those HUGE soulful brown eyes. Her big, infectious laugh. The smile that never ends.
Just a few days ago she got a new haircut and style. Her sleek chestnut tresses were cut into a smart bangless bob (we'll cut those in the fall). She has asked everyone we see if they like her 'new hair.' Then she swishes the 'new hair' from side to side in order to better show it off. She even interrupted the entire dentist's office to fish for a compliment.
And speaking of the dentist AND Gilly being such a big girl, she was absolutely extraordinary that day. Unlike her Momma, who has an unholy fear of all things dental, Gillian looks forward to her denist appoinments. Since the office does not see all that many children (they are not a pediatric site) Gilly is treated like a ROCK STAR when she is there. So of course, she loves all of the attention. She thinks the automatic chair (or the electric chair as I refer to it-not to Gilly, tho!!) is a fun ride and the sunglasses she wears while being examined are a hoot. I will confess to being quite near tears when Gilly said, "THIS is gonna be GREAT!" as she clamoured into The Chair. The dental assistant had just readied all of the implements of torture. I stuffed a throat-aching sob into a cough and blinked back tears as I spied THE NEEEEDLE!
When Dr. Woodriff breezed in, I about leapt out of my seat and bolted for the door. Baby teefs fall out anyway, right? What's the point of filling them? I was ready to adopt the unhealthy attitude of more than a few of our WIC clients. The dentist calmly explained to Gilly what was gonna happen and she let her touch and explore all of the instruments for as long as she wanted. The doc then asked me if I wanted to "N-U-M-B it?"
I blinked and couldn't answer. Dr. Woodriff looked at me patiently. "Uhhhh...mmmm. Well, what do..er..I mean, well, what doYOU think?" I never knew it was an option NOT to "N-U-M-B it." Dr W. explained that the cavities were just on the surface, it was up to me, with or without. "Wifout!" Gilly piped up. Dr W. agreed heartily. The the doc looked at me and said, "We'll go without and see how it goes."
How it went was AWESOME!!! No needles, very little drilling. Gilly picked her prize and we were in and out of there in less than 20.
While running errands later that day, my good little girl made this statement: "I listen to you now."
"You do?"
Gillian nodded and her "new hair" bounced. "See? I'm holdong your hand in the store and I'm not running around and asking for stuff. So see? I'm a big girl and I listen to you."
I dropped to my knees in the middle of the store and snatched Gillian up in a big hug. "Come on, my big girl. Let's get out of here and go to McDonald's Playplace!"
"YAYYY!" She said. And then, "But even though I'm a big girl, I still want a HAppy Meal and a toy. I still don't like Crabby PAtties."
I smiled and we held hands out of the store. I WOULD say, "They grow up so fast." But it has been a long, hard journey to get here. It wasn't fast at all. It was quite slow and painful at times. Not unlike a long drawn-out dental exam for me. I am just so proud of Gillian and all that she as overcome. She IS my growed-up, amazing big girl.
Just a few days ago she got a new haircut and style. Her sleek chestnut tresses were cut into a smart bangless bob (we'll cut those in the fall). She has asked everyone we see if they like her 'new hair.' Then she swishes the 'new hair' from side to side in order to better show it off. She even interrupted the entire dentist's office to fish for a compliment.
And speaking of the dentist AND Gilly being such a big girl, she was absolutely extraordinary that day. Unlike her Momma, who has an unholy fear of all things dental, Gillian looks forward to her denist appoinments. Since the office does not see all that many children (they are not a pediatric site) Gilly is treated like a ROCK STAR when she is there. So of course, she loves all of the attention. She thinks the automatic chair (or the electric chair as I refer to it-not to Gilly, tho!!) is a fun ride and the sunglasses she wears while being examined are a hoot. I will confess to being quite near tears when Gilly said, "THIS is gonna be GREAT!" as she clamoured into The Chair. The dental assistant had just readied all of the implements of torture. I stuffed a throat-aching sob into a cough and blinked back tears as I spied THE NEEEEDLE!
When Dr. Woodriff breezed in, I about leapt out of my seat and bolted for the door. Baby teefs fall out anyway, right? What's the point of filling them? I was ready to adopt the unhealthy attitude of more than a few of our WIC clients. The dentist calmly explained to Gilly what was gonna happen and she let her touch and explore all of the instruments for as long as she wanted. The doc then asked me if I wanted to "N-U-M-B it?"
I blinked and couldn't answer. Dr. Woodriff looked at me patiently. "Uhhhh...mmmm. Well, what do..er..I mean, well, what doYOU think?" I never knew it was an option NOT to "N-U-M-B it." Dr W. explained that the cavities were just on the surface, it was up to me, with or without. "Wifout!" Gilly piped up. Dr W. agreed heartily. The the doc looked at me and said, "We'll go without and see how it goes."
How it went was AWESOME!!! No needles, very little drilling. Gilly picked her prize and we were in and out of there in less than 20.
While running errands later that day, my good little girl made this statement: "I listen to you now."
"You do?"
Gillian nodded and her "new hair" bounced. "See? I'm holdong your hand in the store and I'm not running around and asking for stuff. So see? I'm a big girl and I listen to you."
I dropped to my knees in the middle of the store and snatched Gillian up in a big hug. "Come on, my big girl. Let's get out of here and go to McDonald's Playplace!"
"YAYYY!" She said. And then, "But even though I'm a big girl, I still want a HAppy Meal and a toy. I still don't like Crabby PAtties."
I smiled and we held hands out of the store. I WOULD say, "They grow up so fast." But it has been a long, hard journey to get here. It wasn't fast at all. It was quite slow and painful at times. Not unlike a long drawn-out dental exam for me. I am just so proud of Gillian and all that she as overcome. She IS my growed-up, amazing big girl.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
ME! ME! ME!
My purse is always too overloaded to close properly.
I was a grate spelr b4 colige.
I will create as many short cuts as possible to get through a task more
quickly. Even if it means I am bored and have nothing to do for the rest of the day
I wear way, way too much mascara. I have to buy a new tube almost every month if not more often.
I am a terrible driver, yet remarkably, my record is accident free.
I only wash my hair every 3-4 days or so. Unless otherwise necessary.
I use my child as a deflector shield.
I think people in the gym look alarmingly stupid while they are working out. Of course, outside of the gym those people look waaayyy better than I do, so...
I have a long list of male and female celebrity crushes .
I am a voracious reader.
I crave thunderstorms.
I think the characters on my 'stories' really are my BFFs.
I have severely debilitating ADHD but all of the meds make me sick and cranky. As a result, I live in a constant state of confusion and occasional self-loathing.
I love my sister more that it should be possible to love a sibling.
I miss my friends very very much.*hugs*
I HATE being outside. I HATE it!!!! The great INdoors is more like it.
I quite like meeting people and making a good first impression. Must be a combination of Pageant Girl and just being a Sagittarius. After we meet, it's up to you to keep the friendship going. But when we do meet again, I will love you like we never parted!
I am wiley.
I long to be a neat freak. But I am waaayyy too scatterbrained for all of the responsiblity that kind of personality holds.
I am a delightfully awful dancer. Even when it's just me and Gillian, she'll put a hand up and say, "Please, Momma. Don't do that." *sigh*
I believe in love AND good old-fashioned LUST.
I want to own my own childbirth and lactation center. But...(there's always a 'but' associated with my goals!).
I am a 32 year old divorcee with a child of my own and a fiance yet I am still afraid of my Mommy.
I love the smell of car air-conditioning.
I live my life like it is a broadway musical. Even with the bad dancing!!
I was a grate spelr b4 colige.
I will create as many short cuts as possible to get through a task more
quickly. Even if it means I am bored and have nothing to do for the rest of the day
I wear way, way too much mascara. I have to buy a new tube almost every month if not more often.
I am a terrible driver, yet remarkably, my record is accident free.
I only wash my hair every 3-4 days or so. Unless otherwise necessary.
I use my child as a deflector shield.
I think people in the gym look alarmingly stupid while they are working out. Of course, outside of the gym those people look waaayyy better than I do, so...
I have a long list of male and female celebrity crushes .
I am a voracious reader.
I crave thunderstorms.
I think the characters on my 'stories' really are my BFFs.
I have severely debilitating ADHD but all of the meds make me sick and cranky. As a result, I live in a constant state of confusion and occasional self-loathing.
I love my sister more that it should be possible to love a sibling.
I miss my friends very very much.*hugs*
I HATE being outside. I HATE it!!!! The great INdoors is more like it.
I quite like meeting people and making a good first impression. Must be a combination of Pageant Girl and just being a Sagittarius. After we meet, it's up to you to keep the friendship going. But when we do meet again, I will love you like we never parted!
I am wiley.
I long to be a neat freak. But I am waaayyy too scatterbrained for all of the responsiblity that kind of personality holds.
I am a delightfully awful dancer. Even when it's just me and Gillian, she'll put a hand up and say, "Please, Momma. Don't do that." *sigh*
I believe in love AND good old-fashioned LUST.
I want to own my own childbirth and lactation center. But...(there's always a 'but' associated with my goals!).
I am a 32 year old divorcee with a child of my own and a fiance yet I am still afraid of my Mommy.
I love the smell of car air-conditioning.
I live my life like it is a broadway musical. Even with the bad dancing!!
Introducing Esmerelda
I am an actress. Well, I used to be. Back in 'the day' I was involved in many local theatre productions. And even though I dreamed big, my plans for stardom never really took off. However, my theatre training comes in handy as the mom of a busy and imaginative five year old. Gilly can see one episode of a cartoon or she may watch a movie once and she has it memorized. She also has an uncanny knack for accents. So much so that during her first meeting with Miss Leslie the Speech Therapist, Leslie noted that one of Gillian's parents must be British because Gillian occasionally spoke in an English accent. Nope, she was just being Kipper the Dog from PBS kids(borrowed from BBC). Miss Leslie just didn't catch the switch because Gilly usually goes from being right here in the moment to suddenly submerging herself in the memory of one of her shows. And then she starts acting it out with or without you.
Gillian and I play SpongeBob and Patrick about 30 times a day. We also play Angelina and Alice. We play Sid the Science Kid. Sometimes we improvise, but our 'shows' are always about characters she knows, not ones that are made up.
Try to talk to Gillian. I dare you. You may get a conversation of three sentences that make sense and are on topic. After that, she moves on to Spongebob dialogue or whichever character is in her head at that moment. Brian and I try to ask her about her day at school and we usually get very little reponse. But Gilly will approach complete strangers and without even saying hello she will begin telling that person in detail about her day.
So I decided to 'interview' Gillian as someone else. Someone like the guy from 'Inside the Actors Studio.' "Gillian?" I asked her in a calm, sweet voice. "What did you ..." I cocked my head sharply to the side "DO....at...school...today?" Sensing a game, my daughter hopped up on the couch to face me.
"What's yer name?" She asked with a smile. In the same ethereal voice as before, I responded. "My name is Esmerelda. " I cocked my head sharply to the side again. "Now...Gillian...what did you...DO... at SCHOOL...today?" Esmerelda uses a lot of hand gestures and her facial expressions are what I perceive to be serene. Gillian about DIED laughing. She proceeded to tell me everything she did that day. WITHOUT mentioning SBSP or any other animated persona. Esmerelda was around for a week or so then forgotten about.
Last night while we were out for dinner, Gillian mentioned her again. She wanted me to wear Chili's table menu of cocktails as a hat for Esmerelda. I immediately channeled Esmerelda's calm demeanor and asked Gillian about her day, cocking my head and using way too many fluid hand gestures. Gillian LOST IT! She laughed harder than I had seen her laugh in a long time. I broke character and laughed with her. But I did find out every last detail of her day at school and her afternoon at her Mammy's (grandma) house. I decided then and there that Esmerelda was here to stay. Brian just chuckled and shook his head. I am sure it is a daily occurence for him to question his own decision to spend his life with two of the craziest girls on the planet.
Well, the two craziest girls PLUS all of our 'alternate personalities'!!
Gillian and I play SpongeBob and Patrick about 30 times a day. We also play Angelina and Alice. We play Sid the Science Kid. Sometimes we improvise, but our 'shows' are always about characters she knows, not ones that are made up.
Try to talk to Gillian. I dare you. You may get a conversation of three sentences that make sense and are on topic. After that, she moves on to Spongebob dialogue or whichever character is in her head at that moment. Brian and I try to ask her about her day at school and we usually get very little reponse. But Gilly will approach complete strangers and without even saying hello she will begin telling that person in detail about her day.
So I decided to 'interview' Gillian as someone else. Someone like the guy from 'Inside the Actors Studio.' "Gillian?" I asked her in a calm, sweet voice. "What did you ..." I cocked my head sharply to the side "DO....at...school...today?" Sensing a game, my daughter hopped up on the couch to face me.
"What's yer name?" She asked with a smile. In the same ethereal voice as before, I responded. "My name is Esmerelda. " I cocked my head sharply to the side again. "Now...Gillian...what did you...DO... at SCHOOL...today?" Esmerelda uses a lot of hand gestures and her facial expressions are what I perceive to be serene. Gillian about DIED laughing. She proceeded to tell me everything she did that day. WITHOUT mentioning SBSP or any other animated persona. Esmerelda was around for a week or so then forgotten about.
Last night while we were out for dinner, Gillian mentioned her again. She wanted me to wear Chili's table menu of cocktails as a hat for Esmerelda. I immediately channeled Esmerelda's calm demeanor and asked Gillian about her day, cocking my head and using way too many fluid hand gestures. Gillian LOST IT! She laughed harder than I had seen her laugh in a long time. I broke character and laughed with her. But I did find out every last detail of her day at school and her afternoon at her Mammy's (grandma) house. I decided then and there that Esmerelda was here to stay. Brian just chuckled and shook his head. I am sure it is a daily occurence for him to question his own decision to spend his life with two of the craziest girls on the planet.
Well, the two craziest girls PLUS all of our 'alternate personalities'!!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Things I Did on Mother's DayLaundry
Cleaned Gillian's room
Threw a temper tantrum
NOT receive a gift or card
Had a great lunch sponsored by the generous Mr and Mrs H.S.Shivel III
Went Kmarting
Took Gilly to the $ Tree
Took Gilly to the park
Shopped at the Dollar General Store
Chipped a tooth on some Nerds Candy
Won some stuff on Ebay (yay!!!)
Read bedtime stories and snuggled with my baby girl!!
Monday, May 11, 2009
One of the guys?
This weekend was the Mommy and Me Fashion Show at the Huntington Mall. Now, for those of you who have read my previous posts (on Myspace and Facebook), you know that Gillian tends to follow in her mother's footsteps by milking her time on stage for all it's worth. But this year, probably because I hit the runway with her, Gillian was quite subdued and the only silly thing she did was a little penguin walking. No butt or bagina pickin' THIS TIME!! She is much better as a solo act, for sure! After the show, I rushed home to make potato salad for dinner and then we were off to Sherii's Park Lane jewelry party. And that is where the real fun began.
My dear friend Sherii is a beautiful, remarkably centered and organized mom of NINE KIDS (all of whom she breastfed, I would like to note). Thier modest one story brick home has a surprisingly large, open floor plan. And lemme tell ya, that place is fully stocked with everything a kid of ANY age could long for. Sherii and her husband Criag had five girls first then finished up with four boys. Kaybreh ("Kay-bree"), the oldest sibling, just finished her freshman year away at college.The identical twin boys, Trent-n-Travis are the youngest of the brood at three years old. Gillian was the only girl at Sherii's that afternoon under the age of 11. And I am proud to say that even in her braided pig tails and floral dress, my Gilly Beans got in the floor and played video games and Thomas Trains with the boys.
When it was time to leave she ran over to the mass of little boys, who were playing and/or watching a video game. Gillian took a deep, brave breath and announced to the backs of about ten heads, "Guys. Hey guys? I'm really sorry about this...but *sigh* my Mommy says I have to go now. I'd really like to stay and play with you but *another dramatic sigh* I really have to go." She hung her head and added in a small, sad voice, "I'm just...so..*sigh* sorry."
Micah, who is six years old (and the 7th of the 9 kids) was the only one to turn around. He was slack-mouthed and his eyes were blank as he took in the sight of my sad little girl. "Ok Gillian. See ya later." With that, he resumed the game.
Gotta love the girl-guy dynamic. It starts from birth, I swear.
Micah and the twins ended up following us outside. Micah wanted to play basketball. The twins apparently wanted to pee on stuff. Their matching pants were down around their ankles and they were full-frontally exposed. Gillian was safe and sound inside the car and instead of saying bye to them, I blurted, "Are you guys peein'?!" Two identical little smiley faces nodded a happy yes.
Micah said, "I'm not!" Travis (altho they are always dressed alike, the boys have distinct personalities and it helps that Travis sucks on two fingers and Trent sucks on his thumb) said, "I'm peein on a caddypillar!" Trent shrugged and said with a grin, "I'm just peein." Just then, I heard an uproar from inside Sherii's house. The good-humored mom burst through the front door laughing and yelling.
"Summer! I'm so sorry! BOYS! Stop that! Get in here!" And after the caterpillar was sufficiently soaked, Trent-n-Travis pulled themselves back together and went inside. Only to rush back out and talk to me the whole time I was pullin out of their driveway!
As we drove away, relishing the silence, Gillian said she wanted to have a sleep over at Sherii's. I texted Sherii and didn't get a response. Perhaps nine kids is enough to deal with. Although, I might just drop Gilly off unannounced one day and run some errands. In the Caribbean. Sherii would never know, Gillian blends in so well with the youngest boys of her clan.
That is, unless someone challenges her to a peein' contest!! Then she might be...exposed!
My dear friend Sherii is a beautiful, remarkably centered and organized mom of NINE KIDS (all of whom she breastfed, I would like to note). Thier modest one story brick home has a surprisingly large, open floor plan. And lemme tell ya, that place is fully stocked with everything a kid of ANY age could long for. Sherii and her husband Criag had five girls first then finished up with four boys. Kaybreh ("Kay-bree"), the oldest sibling, just finished her freshman year away at college.The identical twin boys, Trent-n-Travis are the youngest of the brood at three years old. Gillian was the only girl at Sherii's that afternoon under the age of 11. And I am proud to say that even in her braided pig tails and floral dress, my Gilly Beans got in the floor and played video games and Thomas Trains with the boys.
When it was time to leave she ran over to the mass of little boys, who were playing and/or watching a video game. Gillian took a deep, brave breath and announced to the backs of about ten heads, "Guys. Hey guys? I'm really sorry about this...but *sigh* my Mommy says I have to go now. I'd really like to stay and play with you but *another dramatic sigh* I really have to go." She hung her head and added in a small, sad voice, "I'm just...so..*sigh* sorry."
Micah, who is six years old (and the 7th of the 9 kids) was the only one to turn around. He was slack-mouthed and his eyes were blank as he took in the sight of my sad little girl. "Ok Gillian. See ya later." With that, he resumed the game.
Gotta love the girl-guy dynamic. It starts from birth, I swear.
Micah and the twins ended up following us outside. Micah wanted to play basketball. The twins apparently wanted to pee on stuff. Their matching pants were down around their ankles and they were full-frontally exposed. Gillian was safe and sound inside the car and instead of saying bye to them, I blurted, "Are you guys peein'?!" Two identical little smiley faces nodded a happy yes.
Micah said, "I'm not!" Travis (altho they are always dressed alike, the boys have distinct personalities and it helps that Travis sucks on two fingers and Trent sucks on his thumb) said, "I'm peein on a caddypillar!" Trent shrugged and said with a grin, "I'm just peein." Just then, I heard an uproar from inside Sherii's house. The good-humored mom burst through the front door laughing and yelling.
"Summer! I'm so sorry! BOYS! Stop that! Get in here!" And after the caterpillar was sufficiently soaked, Trent-n-Travis pulled themselves back together and went inside. Only to rush back out and talk to me the whole time I was pullin out of their driveway!
As we drove away, relishing the silence, Gillian said she wanted to have a sleep over at Sherii's. I texted Sherii and didn't get a response. Perhaps nine kids is enough to deal with. Although, I might just drop Gilly off unannounced one day and run some errands. In the Caribbean. Sherii would never know, Gillian blends in so well with the youngest boys of her clan.
That is, unless someone challenges her to a peein' contest!! Then she might be...exposed!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Alternate Universe
Hillbillies, Hilljacks, 'Hill people' in general. Beat up trailers, stained denim overalls. Death defying curvy roads and steep, remote mountains. When outsiders (such as 'city folk' from other states) think of Appalaicha those are undoubtedly the images that come to mind. And while that stereotype is unfortunate and not 100% accurate about Wild and Wonderful state of West Virginia as a whole, it is pretty much spot-on with much of Lincoln, Co, WV.
Please take no offense to my statements. I mean no disrepect to anyone. I myself "summered in Lincoln Co, WV" as my wordsmith lil sis often states. I happen have a different point of view about the rural county. It is my whole-hearted belief that Lincoln is an alternate demension altogether. A parallel universe at the very least. There is just NO WAY that the occurences that I have been witness to over the years can possibly happen on this plane of existenece. Case in point: Gillian and I were cruisin' out to Nan Nan's Branchland abode to deliver some groceries and spend some quality time with the matriarch of our family. We went the route of The Dairy Road, a long and twisty stretch that is one of many suspected portals into the next demension. We were hurling along, playing roller coaster when suddenly I was forced to slam on the brakes. A farm tractor had materialized out of nowhere (very Twilight Zone for sure). So our zippy fun had turned into a slow Sunday drive along the country side. In the near distance, I noticed a strange looking dog running thru the yard of a farmhouse. This medium sized, rather thin-yet-bulky dog was running awkwardly, but kickin it into high gear for sure. A gawkey teenager was chasin' the dog. The kid was slipping and falling on the rain-slick grass. A little further down the way, I could see Mrs. Farmer standing beside a chain-link animal pen with a fuzzy lamb nuzzling her shins. The lady was hollerin' at her son and the boy was laughing as he tripped and just could NOT get footing on the wet ground. As they came closer, I realized that the kid was not chasing a dog after all. He was after the MOMMA SHEEP! I have NEVER seen a sheep run! In fact, I have never seen a single sheep at all, usually they stick to pack formation as far as I knew. But this wooly gal was SPRINTING! And I swear she was smiling as she looked back and saw that her captor was NOT keeping up! No wonder that dog looked odd, she wasn't canine at all! She was livestock! Gillian and I were laughin our heads off at the sight. We were rooting for Momma Sheep to win the race.
Then when we finally got to Nan Nan's my dear gramma offered me a fave treat. She has these wonderful, cheap yet delish suckers that she keeps for her Sunday School class. After just a few licks, half of the candy fell off its plastic stick base. I peered at Gilly Beans thru the hollow stick like a telescope. I went to put the candy back in my mouth but something made me look at the sucker before I did. I dropped the thing and screamed as my eyes beheld a terrfying sight. There were hundereds of little black ants pouring out of the sucker stick. The very one that I just had up to my eye, the SAME one that I was about to put in my mouth. The creepy critters had NOT been there seconds ago. How did so many get in there so fast?
The only reasonable explanation? ALTERNATE UNIVERSE!!
Please take no offense to my statements. I mean no disrepect to anyone. I myself "summered in Lincoln Co, WV" as my wordsmith lil sis often states. I happen have a different point of view about the rural county. It is my whole-hearted belief that Lincoln is an alternate demension altogether. A parallel universe at the very least. There is just NO WAY that the occurences that I have been witness to over the years can possibly happen on this plane of existenece. Case in point: Gillian and I were cruisin' out to Nan Nan's Branchland abode to deliver some groceries and spend some quality time with the matriarch of our family. We went the route of The Dairy Road, a long and twisty stretch that is one of many suspected portals into the next demension. We were hurling along, playing roller coaster when suddenly I was forced to slam on the brakes. A farm tractor had materialized out of nowhere (very Twilight Zone for sure). So our zippy fun had turned into a slow Sunday drive along the country side. In the near distance, I noticed a strange looking dog running thru the yard of a farmhouse. This medium sized, rather thin-yet-bulky dog was running awkwardly, but kickin it into high gear for sure. A gawkey teenager was chasin' the dog. The kid was slipping and falling on the rain-slick grass. A little further down the way, I could see Mrs. Farmer standing beside a chain-link animal pen with a fuzzy lamb nuzzling her shins. The lady was hollerin' at her son and the boy was laughing as he tripped and just could NOT get footing on the wet ground. As they came closer, I realized that the kid was not chasing a dog after all. He was after the MOMMA SHEEP! I have NEVER seen a sheep run! In fact, I have never seen a single sheep at all, usually they stick to pack formation as far as I knew. But this wooly gal was SPRINTING! And I swear she was smiling as she looked back and saw that her captor was NOT keeping up! No wonder that dog looked odd, she wasn't canine at all! She was livestock! Gillian and I were laughin our heads off at the sight. We were rooting for Momma Sheep to win the race.
Then when we finally got to Nan Nan's my dear gramma offered me a fave treat. She has these wonderful, cheap yet delish suckers that she keeps for her Sunday School class. After just a few licks, half of the candy fell off its plastic stick base. I peered at Gilly Beans thru the hollow stick like a telescope. I went to put the candy back in my mouth but something made me look at the sucker before I did. I dropped the thing and screamed as my eyes beheld a terrfying sight. There were hundereds of little black ants pouring out of the sucker stick. The very one that I just had up to my eye, the SAME one that I was about to put in my mouth. The creepy critters had NOT been there seconds ago. How did so many get in there so fast?
The only reasonable explanation? ALTERNATE UNIVERSE!!
Monday, May 4, 2009
GF Update
I have had a headache for three days now. This morning it was migraine-ish. I know have not ingested any gluten because I have been eating at home almost exclusively. But, we have had quite a few days of yucky, heavy rain and that usually wreaks havoc on my sinuses, often leading to migraines as well. I popped an Imitrex (the first one in I don't know HOW long) and a 600mg Ibuprofin before bed last night. I STILL woke up naseous with a throbbing head. I have very little sick time at work plus we have a staff meeting at lunch, so calling out was not an option.
Did I mention that we are having pizza at this meeting? Well, THEY are. I'll be having salad w/ GF dressing. I have one more week before the gluten is all out of my system. I am giving myself 2 weeks after that as a test to see how much better I feel and to track any headaches I get. I suppose I should nosh on some gluten AFTER those last two weeks and wait to see what happens.
But, like my sister said, "You could carry a rubber chicken everywhere you go and if you feel better having that chicken with you, then by all means!"
And I know she is right. It is an educated decision on my part to go GF. But having ONE bad headache in three weeks is better than fighting a headache every day, potentially leading to a migraine. So if the GF thing works, it works. If it doesn't, well, I am open to suggestions. I just know I can't take these headaches anymore and after being almost headache-free for two weeks straight, I don't know HOW I ever lived with them for so long.
I popped another Imitrex this a.m. It helps the headache, of course, but also fights the nausea. As a side effect, I am fighting sleep like it's a prize-winning boxing match. I just had my first cup of coffee at 10:00am and it is helping. I may have to blog a few times today just to keep me in the here and now!
Wish me luck @ lunch!
Did I mention that we are having pizza at this meeting? Well, THEY are. I'll be having salad w/ GF dressing. I have one more week before the gluten is all out of my system. I am giving myself 2 weeks after that as a test to see how much better I feel and to track any headaches I get. I suppose I should nosh on some gluten AFTER those last two weeks and wait to see what happens.
But, like my sister said, "You could carry a rubber chicken everywhere you go and if you feel better having that chicken with you, then by all means!"
And I know she is right. It is an educated decision on my part to go GF. But having ONE bad headache in three weeks is better than fighting a headache every day, potentially leading to a migraine. So if the GF thing works, it works. If it doesn't, well, I am open to suggestions. I just know I can't take these headaches anymore and after being almost headache-free for two weeks straight, I don't know HOW I ever lived with them for so long.
I popped another Imitrex this a.m. It helps the headache, of course, but also fights the nausea. As a side effect, I am fighting sleep like it's a prize-winning boxing match. I just had my first cup of coffee at 10:00am and it is helping. I may have to blog a few times today just to keep me in the here and now!
Wish me luck @ lunch!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
McHottie
Maybe I am a dirty old lady. Or perhaps I am a Cougar. If either of these labels apply to me, I am not alone. My fellow Swim Class Moms and I sit on the sidelines of the steamy busy YMCA pool and openly gawk and giggle over the 18-20 somethings who teach our waterbabies the finer points of doggy paddling. And it can't be helped, or ignored, that our favorite lifeguard is a serious Matthew McConaughey doppleganger. Sleek, muscular build, golden hair with a slight curly wave to it. And the dimples. Oh me oh MY those DIMPLES and that super-star bright white smile. Gillian asked him a question one day after class during playtime and my friend Melissa snapped a pic. I'll have to post it so you all can see what I mean.
And you'll recall that Gillian has embarassed me plenty of times during swim class in the past. These days, I don't much notice WHAT she does (as long as she leaves me alone and listens to her teacher-cute boy or not!) during class. I am otherwise distracted. Does that make me a dirty old lady? Who cares! I used to DREAD swim class! Now I look FORWARD to it!!!
And you'll recall that Gillian has embarassed me plenty of times during swim class in the past. These days, I don't much notice WHAT she does (as long as she leaves me alone and listens to her teacher-cute boy or not!) during class. I am otherwise distracted. Does that make me a dirty old lady? Who cares! I used to DREAD swim class! Now I look FORWARD to it!!!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
I am going gluten-free for the next six weeks. According to my research gluten can not only be a trigger for headaches, it can also make existing headaches worse. Six weeks is enough time to get my system wheat-free and if I get a headache during that time, I'll know that gluten is not the problem. Now, just because I get a headache does not mean that I am gluten-intolerant or Celiac. For one thing, no on else in my fam has a gluten problem (that we know of, anyway) so that is an automatic indication that I don't either. But I am prone to devastating migraines and headaches that last for days on end. I am willing to do anything to stop them.
I started my experiment on Monday and so far, no headaches. I had a set back after my first gluten-free dinner, tho. It wasn't until about a 1/2 hour after my wheat-less Chinese feast that I realized I had gobbled down the fortune cookie, which is of course made with wheat flour. Oh well. I have done much better since then. Tuesday through Thursday have been wheat-free for sure. Thanks mostly to my friend Tiffany who is Celiac. She has been a wonderful guide, filling me in on all the gluten-free options when I go out for a meal or when I go grocery shopping. Thanks for all of your help and advice, Tiffany!!
Three mostly GF days down, only 38 to go!!
I started my experiment on Monday and so far, no headaches. I had a set back after my first gluten-free dinner, tho. It wasn't until about a 1/2 hour after my wheat-less Chinese feast that I realized I had gobbled down the fortune cookie, which is of course made with wheat flour. Oh well. I have done much better since then. Tuesday through Thursday have been wheat-free for sure. Thanks mostly to my friend Tiffany who is Celiac. She has been a wonderful guide, filling me in on all the gluten-free options when I go out for a meal or when I go grocery shopping. Thanks for all of your help and advice, Tiffany!!
Three mostly GF days down, only 38 to go!!
Monday, April 20, 2009
Weekend in Columbus, Oh
Mom, Gillian, NanNan and I took off for Columbus, OH this past weekend. We spent 2 nights and 3 days at Beautiful Casa de Stacey-my Aunt Gwen and Uncle Ronnie's house in the 'Burbs. Gillian had a great time exploring the house and the neighborhood. Holt Park,the planned community my aunt and uncle live in has a very Stepford look to it. Each yard has the same alotted acreage. Homeowners have their choice of one of 5 or 6 designs for their abode with all white siding but they can pick Colonial colors for the trim and shutters (if applicable). Residents can make changes as such as major renovations and additions. There is no street side parking. Holt Park gorgeous! Gillian loved the playground and lake in the middle of the 'hood and we are planning another visit to celebrate the opening of the pool on Memorial Day.
On Saturday, Nans and I went to a place called The Floral Factory. It is a big warehouse-type store that sells only to businesses. We just borrowed Gwen's pass (she got hers thru her friend's floral shop). Nanners got a buncha stuff for her Sunday School class' Mother's Day project and I picked up some delightfully wholesale-priced jewelry as well as supplies for Gillian's 6th Bday party (SpongeBob-themed, of course) coming up this summer. After the Floral Factory Nan Nan talked me into going to 2 thrift stores. Man, the stuff city people get rid of! At the first Salvation Army alone I found more vintage jewelry (a passion of mine) than I have ever seen in one spot. There was a STUNNING Scarab watch (circa 1972) that I coveted big time. AND a to-die-for sterling silver turquoise pendant that my Mother-in-Law would have loved. And even tho I was offered a great deal for both, I decided to pass. Money is a bit tight right now. I did, however, pick up a gift for my sis' bday in September. The second store didn't have as much to offer although I did grab 2 cute tee shirts to work out / clean house in. OH! I found a hardback copy of Michael J Fox's first book ( I have yet to get his latest), Lucky Man. I have the paperback already, of course.
The rest of the weekend was spent laying low and hangin out with Gillian and the rest of the family. We had a crazy, fun weekend and it was nice to get away but I am glad to be home and I am even glad to be back at work. Well, if you can call blogging on company time 'working!!'
On Saturday, Nans and I went to a place called The Floral Factory. It is a big warehouse-type store that sells only to businesses. We just borrowed Gwen's pass (she got hers thru her friend's floral shop). Nanners got a buncha stuff for her Sunday School class' Mother's Day project and I picked up some delightfully wholesale-priced jewelry as well as supplies for Gillian's 6th Bday party (SpongeBob-themed, of course) coming up this summer. After the Floral Factory Nan Nan talked me into going to 2 thrift stores. Man, the stuff city people get rid of! At the first Salvation Army alone I found more vintage jewelry (a passion of mine) than I have ever seen in one spot. There was a STUNNING Scarab watch (circa 1972) that I coveted big time. AND a to-die-for sterling silver turquoise pendant that my Mother-in-Law would have loved. And even tho I was offered a great deal for both, I decided to pass. Money is a bit tight right now. I did, however, pick up a gift for my sis' bday in September. The second store didn't have as much to offer although I did grab 2 cute tee shirts to work out / clean house in. OH! I found a hardback copy of Michael J Fox's first book ( I have yet to get his latest), Lucky Man. I have the paperback already, of course.
The rest of the weekend was spent laying low and hangin out with Gillian and the rest of the family. We had a crazy, fun weekend and it was nice to get away but I am glad to be home and I am even glad to be back at work. Well, if you can call blogging on company time 'working!!'
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Talkin to Myself
I'm a talker. It's what I do. I talk to fill silences, I talk because I have a busy brain and there is a lot goin on in there. I talk because I like to share the wacky events that could only happen to me and my loved ones. But I listen as much as I speak. I like to connect with people. It's one of the reasons I am so good at my job. I have to be able to listen to what others are saying, to be able to respond properly and helpfully if the moms in my office or on the phone have concerns.
I have been 'spoken to' on numerous occasions about my excessive talking. If I am speaking with a coworker for more than 5 minutes,albeit almost always about work-related issues or clients, I am the naughty one who gets reprimanded. Ummm, was I talkin to myself, here? Every day for the past 2 weeks I have been cloistered in my office, self-exiled. I make a point to look extremely busy and overwhelmed. Luckily, I have the privilege to shut my door (usually a violation of policy) because it gets really busy and noisy in the hallways at times and I can't hear when I am trying to make follow-up phone calls. If I have been particularly quiet, the site manager (the same busy-body who has threatened to write me up for talking) feins concern. "It's just not like you," she says. For the past 3 days I have been locked away, working like a busy bee. I took the opportunity to file some paperwork in charts which are located in the reception area. One girl, M was relaying the events of her bachlorette party. I also needed to speak to D, who was on the phone with a chatty client. So I waited for D, file in hand and listened to M's delightfully drunken tale. Suddenly, SM (site mgr) bustled in and demanded we all get back to work. I was immediately hustled into her office. I am talking too much again, dilly-dallying even. I can't just stand around talkin.' I have to find something to do bc the Regional Mgr has been known to make pop-in visits. LIE! I know that isn't true because I have worked in this office for almost 2 years and that lady never shows up unless she is on the schedule. If she isn't on the sched but planning to drop by, she actually calls first. I didn't even bother to defend myself. Clearly, I am some sort of instigator of negative communication and it has to stop. I didn't bother to note that I had not even spoken one word during this instance, nor did I bring up that I was filing paper work and had a question for D. I just let it go.
I have defended myself in the past, but clearly I am a bad girl, the one to watch out for. I have no idea how I got this rep or what I did to deserve it. It was my belief that it took at least two people to have a conversation.
Guess I was wrong.
I have been 'spoken to' on numerous occasions about my excessive talking. If I am speaking with a coworker for more than 5 minutes,albeit almost always about work-related issues or clients, I am the naughty one who gets reprimanded. Ummm, was I talkin to myself, here? Every day for the past 2 weeks I have been cloistered in my office, self-exiled. I make a point to look extremely busy and overwhelmed. Luckily, I have the privilege to shut my door (usually a violation of policy) because it gets really busy and noisy in the hallways at times and I can't hear when I am trying to make follow-up phone calls. If I have been particularly quiet, the site manager (the same busy-body who has threatened to write me up for talking) feins concern. "It's just not like you," she says. For the past 3 days I have been locked away, working like a busy bee. I took the opportunity to file some paperwork in charts which are located in the reception area. One girl, M was relaying the events of her bachlorette party. I also needed to speak to D, who was on the phone with a chatty client. So I waited for D, file in hand and listened to M's delightfully drunken tale. Suddenly, SM (site mgr) bustled in and demanded we all get back to work. I was immediately hustled into her office. I am talking too much again, dilly-dallying even. I can't just stand around talkin.' I have to find something to do bc the Regional Mgr has been known to make pop-in visits. LIE! I know that isn't true because I have worked in this office for almost 2 years and that lady never shows up unless she is on the schedule. If she isn't on the sched but planning to drop by, she actually calls first. I didn't even bother to defend myself. Clearly, I am some sort of instigator of negative communication and it has to stop. I didn't bother to note that I had not even spoken one word during this instance, nor did I bring up that I was filing paper work and had a question for D. I just let it go.
I have defended myself in the past, but clearly I am a bad girl, the one to watch out for. I have no idea how I got this rep or what I did to deserve it. It was my belief that it took at least two people to have a conversation.
Guess I was wrong.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Beans+Ving=TLA
Gillian has been listening and follwing rules much better these days after swim class. She has been so good that I let her play an EXTRA 20 minutes last night in the pool. I should have known that would give her plenty of time to cause a ruckous!
There was this BIG black guy-I'm talking Ving Rhames huge-hangin out in the kiddie pool keepin an eye on his own youngun'. Before I knew what was happening Gilly was LITERALLY crawling allll over the guy! I was scanning the pool for her and didn't see her anywhere! I had noticed the black guy with the very white kid buggin him but didn't for one second think it was Gillian! Then I happened to notice that it TOTALLY WAS my kid! I yelled at her to get off of him! "You don't even KNOW that man!! GET OFF!!" Seriously, she was scaling the guy like she was King Kong and he was the Empire State Building. Melissa, the mom I have befriended during class said she had taken a few classes with him at the Y and that he was a great guy and he probably didn't mind. Eventually Gilly Beans left her new playmate alone to go play. But less than 10 minutes later I saw her splashing Ving Rhames again. She was stomping her feet and making HUGE waves. I yelled at her again, trying not to laugh. I was SO EMBARASSED! Ving said Gillian was okay, but I could tell he was trying to relax while his son played with friends elsewhere. Everyone in the pool area was pointing and laughing at the duo. They were quite a sight of contrasts. He was large, solid and dark. Beans is so tiny, wispy and stark white. But for once, Gillian was oblivious to stealing the show. She obviously just wanted to be this guy's new bff!!
I have no idea why she targeted the Ving Rhames doppleganger. There were plenty of other daddies in the water for her to play with. Other daddies who were playing and having fun. This guy was clearly hoping for a bit of alone time. Maybe that is what drew her to him. Gillian still doesn't really socialize with other kids all that well. She will play for a few minutes then go do her own thang. Perhaps she saw the loner in Ving and decided they were kindred spirits. She thot he would understand her. "Get"her.
More than likely, tho she just was being her weird, goofy Beanie self. And Lord knows I stopped trying to figure out exactly what that means a long, long time ago. She is whoever and whatever she is and I love her for it. I'm willing to bet, though that next time, Mr. Rhames will hang out in the deep end instead of the kiddie pool!
There was this BIG black guy-I'm talking Ving Rhames huge-hangin out in the kiddie pool keepin an eye on his own youngun'. Before I knew what was happening Gilly was LITERALLY crawling allll over the guy! I was scanning the pool for her and didn't see her anywhere! I had noticed the black guy with the very white kid buggin him but didn't for one second think it was Gillian! Then I happened to notice that it TOTALLY WAS my kid! I yelled at her to get off of him! "You don't even KNOW that man!! GET OFF!!" Seriously, she was scaling the guy like she was King Kong and he was the Empire State Building. Melissa, the mom I have befriended during class said she had taken a few classes with him at the Y and that he was a great guy and he probably didn't mind. Eventually Gilly Beans left her new playmate alone to go play. But less than 10 minutes later I saw her splashing Ving Rhames again. She was stomping her feet and making HUGE waves. I yelled at her again, trying not to laugh. I was SO EMBARASSED! Ving said Gillian was okay, but I could tell he was trying to relax while his son played with friends elsewhere. Everyone in the pool area was pointing and laughing at the duo. They were quite a sight of contrasts. He was large, solid and dark. Beans is so tiny, wispy and stark white. But for once, Gillian was oblivious to stealing the show. She obviously just wanted to be this guy's new bff!!
I have no idea why she targeted the Ving Rhames doppleganger. There were plenty of other daddies in the water for her to play with. Other daddies who were playing and having fun. This guy was clearly hoping for a bit of alone time. Maybe that is what drew her to him. Gillian still doesn't really socialize with other kids all that well. She will play for a few minutes then go do her own thang. Perhaps she saw the loner in Ving and decided they were kindred spirits. She thot he would understand her. "Get"her.
More than likely, tho she just was being her weird, goofy Beanie self. And Lord knows I stopped trying to figure out exactly what that means a long, long time ago. She is whoever and whatever she is and I love her for it. I'm willing to bet, though that next time, Mr. Rhames will hang out in the deep end instead of the kiddie pool!
Friday, April 3, 2009
Hot Dogs? Or ....?
I saw a sign promoting a hot dog sale today. Now in this region of South Western WV, the weiner and bun combo is a much cherished tradional fare. There are probably more restaurants serving hot dogs exclusively in and around Huntington
We call my backdoor neighboor "The Farmer." All year long, The Farmer has a full garden in our adjoining backyards. My family and I often partake in this cornucopial bounty, as The Farmer is very generous with his crops. Corn, green beans, snap peas and-my fave-fresh homegrown asparagus. Oh man, the asparagus. Homegrown asparagus tastes so much better than the half-dead grocery store stuff. Straight from the ground, aparagus is sweeter, crisper, and it's color is a much more vivid jade green even after cooking.
It was recently revealed to us that The Farmer also has bee hives "out in the country." A few days ago, he graced our family with a jar of honey, just culled early that morning from his hives. I was so excited, I requested Brian make a fresh batch of iced green tea (he makes it so much better than I do). Gillian bounced into the kitchen as we were drizzling the glorious golden goodness into the tea maker.
"What is that?" she asked, her brown eyes full of curiosity.
"Honey." Brian and I said simulatneously.
"What is that?" She repeated.
"Honey." I said as I played with the spoon in the jar, making pretty patterns w/ the syrupy strings as I added more to the tea maker.
"Momma. What. Is. THAT." Gillian pointed to the jar.
"Hon-ey." I said slowly and directly.
She sighed and tossed her back in frustration.
"Momma. What is in THAT jar?"
I stopped and tought about my answer. Seeing no alternative I once again stated simply and slowly,"Hoonnneeeeyyyy."
Gillian stared at the jar in consternation. Then she turned those huge, soulful eyes to mine (which are hazel and not brown, I would like to point out). "Honey, what is in that jar?" she finally asked.
Brian and I just burst out laughing, which made her laugh, too, although she didn't know why.
I guess she thought that Brian and I were correcting her (as we sometimes do), making her address us as "Honey," before we would answer her. Much like we ask her to remember her pleases and thank yous!
I abandoned the spoon in the jar and scooped up my silly, funny almost-six-year old little girl. When I stopped laughing, I explained to her that in the jar was HONEY from a bee hive and that the farmer had given the jar to us a few mintues ago. Gilly knows that bees live in hives and make honey (probably thanks to 'A Bee Movie'). She had just never seen it in a jar before!!
, WV than there are trailor parks. Well, maybe not. And hot dog sales are Huntington's version of the bake sales We have girl scout car washes. AND a hot dog sale. The local Fire Station has Fire Safety Day. AND a Hot Dog sale. Local businesses give the dogs away as promotion events. So a hot dog sale, even on a cold blustery rainy day like today is not such an uncommon sight. What was unusal was todays sponsor. It was a local TAXIDERMIST!!!!! The question is: WHAT WERE THOSE WIENERS MADE OF??????
We call my backdoor neighboor "The Farmer." All year long, The Farmer has a full garden in our adjoining backyards. My family and I often partake in this cornucopial bounty, as The Farmer is very generous with his crops. Corn, green beans, snap peas and-my fave-fresh homegrown asparagus. Oh man, the asparagus. Homegrown asparagus tastes so much better than the half-dead grocery store stuff. Straight from the ground, aparagus is sweeter, crisper, and it's color is a much more vivid jade green even after cooking.
It was recently revealed to us that The Farmer also has bee hives "out in the country." A few days ago, he graced our family with a jar of honey, just culled early that morning from his hives. I was so excited, I requested Brian make a fresh batch of iced green tea (he makes it so much better than I do). Gillian bounced into the kitchen as we were drizzling the glorious golden goodness into the tea maker.
"What is that?" she asked, her brown eyes full of curiosity.
"Honey." Brian and I said simulatneously.
"What is that?" She repeated.
"Honey." I said as I played with the spoon in the jar, making pretty patterns w/ the syrupy strings as I added more to the tea maker.
"Momma. What. Is. THAT." Gillian pointed to the jar.
"Hon-ey." I said slowly and directly.
She sighed and tossed her back in frustration.
"Momma. What is in THAT jar?"
I stopped and tought about my answer. Seeing no alternative I once again stated simply and slowly,"Hoonnneeeeyyyy."
Gillian stared at the jar in consternation. Then she turned those huge, soulful eyes to mine (which are hazel and not brown, I would like to point out). "Honey, what is in that jar?" she finally asked.
Brian and I just burst out laughing, which made her laugh, too, although she didn't know why.
I guess she thought that Brian and I were correcting her (as we sometimes do), making her address us as "Honey," before we would answer her. Much like we ask her to remember her pleases and thank yous!
I abandoned the spoon in the jar and scooped up my silly, funny almost-six-year old little girl. When I stopped laughing, I explained to her that in the jar was HONEY from a bee hive and that the farmer had given the jar to us a few mintues ago. Gilly knows that bees live in hives and make honey (probably thanks to 'A Bee Movie'). She had just never seen it in a jar before!!
, WV than there are trailor parks. Well, maybe not. And hot dog sales are Huntington's version of the bake sales We have girl scout car washes. AND a hot dog sale. The local Fire Station has Fire Safety Day. AND a Hot Dog sale. Local businesses give the dogs away as promotion events. So a hot dog sale, even on a cold blustery rainy day like today is not such an uncommon sight. What was unusal was todays sponsor. It was a local TAXIDERMIST!!!!! The question is: WHAT WERE THOSE WIENERS MADE OF??????
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Monster in the Pool
Gillian was awful in swim class last night. Well DURING class she was awesome. Afterward, the cool mushroom fountain was turned on in the kiddie pool and the younguns were left to run wild. I told Gilly she had 10 minutes to play. An HOUR after screaming at her, a random dad heaved her out to me w/ a massive eye roll and an exasperated sigh. Well, excuuuuse me for being dressed in work scrubs and tennis shoes. Had I realized that my rotten kid would have me hollerin @ her like a red neck hillbilly, I would have worn my red string bikini and belly button ring along with all of the other inappropriately- dressed-for-their-botox-desguised-age doctors' wives (you can't botox tummy wrinkles! Gross!). But as luck would have it, I left it at home. Also, thank you very much sir, for getting my rebellious hell-child out of the rich-kid pool. I appreciate it.
Not only did I already have a PMS-induced migraine before I even arrived, I realized that a former arch-enemy also had her son enrolled in swim class @ the YMCA. This woman, we'll call her Kay, wreaked havoc upon my heart AND social life in HS and college by repeatedly stealing the one boy my tender teenage heart longed for. Now don't get me wrong, I can absolutely let bygones be bygones. I am waayaayay over that boyfriend-stealer. But I AM still a woman. And we,as an entire gender, are preter-naturally competitive. I noted with a heavy heart that Kay's cute-but-not-as-cute-as-my-kid son was in the class one level above Gillian. I also couldnt help but compare my 5'7 currently plus size frame to her slender 5'11 athletic build. Ugh. After class, her son reluctantly exited the pool with a minimal amount of threats. Double Ugh.
That evening, Brian had to shoot me up w/ imitrex to treat my raging 'sick-headache' as Gillian calls them. I was out by 9pm. On a happy note, I had delish dreams about Nathan Fillion. I think it was bc i was bummed about not being able to stay conscious for Castle. It wasn't a sex dream er nothin.' There certainly was some lovely, lovely kissing and flirting tho. He was just so sweet. I think he was pretty much Brian with Nathan's face. Whatevs! I know I woke up with a smile and I certainly did not go to sleep that way!!!
Not only did I already have a PMS-induced migraine before I even arrived, I realized that a former arch-enemy also had her son enrolled in swim class @ the YMCA. This woman, we'll call her Kay, wreaked havoc upon my heart AND social life in HS and college by repeatedly stealing the one boy my tender teenage heart longed for. Now don't get me wrong, I can absolutely let bygones be bygones. I am waayaayay over that boyfriend-stealer. But I AM still a woman. And we,as an entire gender, are preter-naturally competitive. I noted with a heavy heart that Kay's cute-but-not-as-cute-as-my-kid son was in the class one level above Gillian. I also couldnt help but compare my 5'7 currently plus size frame to her slender 5'11 athletic build. Ugh. After class, her son reluctantly exited the pool with a minimal amount of threats. Double Ugh.
That evening, Brian had to shoot me up w/ imitrex to treat my raging 'sick-headache' as Gillian calls them. I was out by 9pm. On a happy note, I had delish dreams about Nathan Fillion. I think it was bc i was bummed about not being able to stay conscious for Castle. It wasn't a sex dream er nothin.' There certainly was some lovely, lovely kissing and flirting tho. He was just so sweet. I think he was pretty much Brian with Nathan's face. Whatevs! I know I woke up with a smile and I certainly did not go to sleep that way!!!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Dangerous Distraction
Speaking of shiny distractions: there are digital billboards all over town featuring MICHAEL J. FOX!!! I am pretty sure that I just may cause a mega-car pile-up due to those alarmingly beautiful advertisements. Michael is promoting something about his MichaelJFox.org website. I can't tell what the actual message is because I'm so focused on HIM. He's all cute and dressed up with his arms crossed. I JUST CANNOT TAKE it!!
Alien ships could descend from the sky, take over the world right then and there and I would never notice if I were stopped in front of one of those billboards.
For those of you who know me, and know me well, my MJF obsession is embraced, understood and encouraged. To those of you who are new to the world of Summer, let me explain. My devotion to Michael is completely pure. I caught my first glimpse of him in a relatively awful flick called Midnight Madness when I was in the third grade. And that was enough for me. I have followed his career from before Family Ties all the way thru those offbeat movies he made in the late 90s, back to Spin City and I try to catch every appearance I can now(yes, I saw him on Oprah yesterday). As I have previously said, MJF IS on my elevator list but I dont think of him LIKE THAT. I simply admire him and think he is the cutest, dreamiest guy on the planet. If I ever met him I would throw up and die. And I mean that in the best way possible!!
So if you find yourself in the middle of a multiple vehicle accident look around for a digital billboard. You just may see me at the front of the pile-up. I'll be the one smiling and blowing kisses at the irresponsibly distracting 100 ft tall Michael J. Fox.
Alien ships could descend from the sky, take over the world right then and there and I would never notice if I were stopped in front of one of those billboards.
For those of you who know me, and know me well, my MJF obsession is embraced, understood and encouraged. To those of you who are new to the world of Summer, let me explain. My devotion to Michael is completely pure. I caught my first glimpse of him in a relatively awful flick called Midnight Madness when I was in the third grade. And that was enough for me. I have followed his career from before Family Ties all the way thru those offbeat movies he made in the late 90s, back to Spin City and I try to catch every appearance I can now(yes, I saw him on Oprah yesterday). As I have previously said, MJF IS on my elevator list but I dont think of him LIKE THAT. I simply admire him and think he is the cutest, dreamiest guy on the planet. If I ever met him I would throw up and die. And I mean that in the best way possible!!
So if you find yourself in the middle of a multiple vehicle accident look around for a digital billboard. You just may see me at the front of the pile-up. I'll be the one smiling and blowing kisses at the irresponsibly distracting 100 ft tall Michael J. Fox.
The first thing you should know about me is that I am severely ADD (I purposefully leave off the H-hyperactive-as I am very very lazy so I feel that the old-fashoined plain-ol ADD suits me better). The second thing you should be aware of is that I choose not to take medication to treat my ADD. I have tried them all and I am not a fan of them. They transform me into a cranky zombie with a raging migraine and sleep deprivation. So, here I am going thru life distracted and silly and 100% totally me. My first priority is, of course, my daughter. Gillian is my very best friend and I love discovering new things about her every day. My relationship with Brian truly is amazing. He came into our lives when Gillian was about 16months old or so and he was a wonderful, dear friend to me while I was going thru my divorce. He also happened to be my BOSS at the time! I like to tease him that now I'M the BOSS! Brian is kind, loving, and attentive. He is everything a man should be and so much more.
My job is very very important to me. I have wanted to be an International Board Certified Lactation Consultant from the moment I nursed Gillian for the first time. I currently work in the local WIC office as a Lactation Specialist. Everyday I work I am a wee bit closer to my goal of IBCLC. I encourage pregnant women to breastfeed and I offer support to those who choose to nurse their babies. Having said that, I am only mildly nazi-ish about the subject. I try to be understanding when mommies wean their babies. I CANNOT, however comprehand women who REFUSE to even try it. I don't see breastfeeding as weird, disgusting or sexual. I think it is unfortunate that society has forced our mothers to feel that way about the most natural of aspect motherhood. I would NEVER say a bad word to a mommy who chooses not to nurse (not to her face anyway!!).
I am celebrity-obsessed and I watch waaayyy too much tv. My nightly news is E!NewsDaily. I can catch up w/ Robin Meade in the mornings on CNN for the other stuff. Michael J. Fox, Christian Bale, Rob Thomas, Sendhil Ramamurthy are the tops of my 'elevator list.' Nathan Fillion is a recent addition to that list of lust. Brian understands that if I am ever stuck in an elevator with any of the guys on that list, that I am to be issued a free pass. Hey, he has Eva Mendez. He is free to add more to his list but he is loyal to his Eva. Loyalty IS important in a man!!
I'm off to work now. Gotta talk about babies and boobies!!
My job is very very important to me. I have wanted to be an International Board Certified Lactation Consultant from the moment I nursed Gillian for the first time. I currently work in the local WIC office as a Lactation Specialist. Everyday I work I am a wee bit closer to my goal of IBCLC. I encourage pregnant women to breastfeed and I offer support to those who choose to nurse their babies. Having said that, I am only mildly nazi-ish about the subject. I try to be understanding when mommies wean their babies. I CANNOT, however comprehand women who REFUSE to even try it. I don't see breastfeeding as weird, disgusting or sexual. I think it is unfortunate that society has forced our mothers to feel that way about the most natural of aspect motherhood. I would NEVER say a bad word to a mommy who chooses not to nurse (not to her face anyway!!).
I am celebrity-obsessed and I watch waaayyy too much tv. My nightly news is E!NewsDaily. I can catch up w/ Robin Meade in the mornings on CNN for the other stuff. Michael J. Fox, Christian Bale, Rob Thomas, Sendhil Ramamurthy are the tops of my 'elevator list.' Nathan Fillion is a recent addition to that list of lust. Brian understands that if I am ever stuck in an elevator with any of the guys on that list, that I am to be issued a free pass. Hey, he has Eva Mendez. He is free to add more to his list but he is loyal to his Eva. Loyalty IS important in a man!!
I'm off to work now. Gotta talk about babies and boobies!!
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