No whimsical title for this one, sorry.

School started, and I've been busy. I did write another short story, but this one is a tad longer, so I'm splitting it up. It's also a tad different from the last one. I was listening to Stone Temple Pilots while writing it. If you like it, let me know, but please give credit where credit is due. Enjoy!

#37 Part 1

The bar was dark, but I still didn’t have any trouble spotting her. She was leaning against a high table with her back to the door; it was an excellent view. Her pale blond hair caught the dim lights and reflected it like a mirror. She was alone and talking on her cell phone. I was a little annoyed. She was supposed to bring that friend she had with her last night. The red head wasn’t really my type, but I’ve never done two girls at once, and the thought really interested me.

“Yeah, I know, I probably shouldn’t have come alone, but… Yeah, it’s the same guy we saw last night… Hey, you even said you thought he was hot… Eh, I don’t think he looks that creepy… I know, I don’t have the best taste in men, but still, I think I might really like him… Okay, I’ll call you later, I promise… No, I won’t go anywhere with him alone. Yeesh, you’re worse than my mom!” She looked up from her phone and smiled as I approached. She looked genuinely happy to see me. “Oh, I think that’s him. I gotta go… Yeah, okay! Talk to you later… Bye!”

I took my time with my last few steps toward her table and made sure she saw the pleased look in my eyes as I looked her up and down. “Did I interrupt something important?” I kept my voice low enough that she had to lean in to hear me over the loud music.

“No, that was just my friend. You remember the one from last night? She worries about me too much.” Her face flushed a little; it was barely visible in the dive bar’s lighting. I made a good choice with this one.

“Uh huh,” of course I remembered the missing red head, “What does she have to worry about?” As far as she knew I was just a guy picking her up for some fun.

She smiled again and flipped a stray piece of blond hair out of her eyes, “She’s got this idea that you may not be the best choice for me.” I could tell from the expression on her face she didn’t feel the same way.

“Really? Like how?” That same piece of hair slipped back over her left eye, and I reached up and slid it behind her ear. Her hair was soft, really soft. Good, I didn’t like it when girls used too much goop in their hair. Once it got wet, it was impossible to keep it from looking crunchy.

“Well, to be honest, you kinda creeped her out last night. She’s really into clean cut guys, anyway.” She didn’t pull back from my touch, but leaned in a little closer. This was going to be fun, I could tell already.

“Huh,” I leaned forward and inhaled deeply, “and what are you into?” She smelled delicious, like summer, clean and fresh with a little hint of floral.

“I, um, don’t like being bored.” She reached out and traced the muscles on my forearm with her finger, starting at my wrist and following it all the way up to the bottom of my t-shirt’s sleeve.

I tried not to show how thrilled I was with the direction this meeting was taking, “You think I’m boring?”

She slowly slid her finger back down to my hand, “I haven’t seen anything boring yet.” The corners of her perfectly formed lips curled upward.

“I could say the same thing about you.” I twisted my fingers through hers and lifted her hand above her head while using my other hand to guide her in a slow spin. Yes, she looked very nice, that black dress hugged her curves in just the right places.

She blushed a little with another sly smile, “What, this old dress? I’ve had it forever.”

“You wear it well.” I slid my raised hand down her arm and ribcage until it rested on her hip. She didn’t seem to mind as I pulled her closer to me.

“Thanks.” She reached behind me and hooked her thumb in my back pocket. “Those jeans don’t look terrible on you either.” With a sly grin, she leaned back to check out my backside.

“You want a drink?” I knew I could use something strong, but I wondered how well she could hold her liquor.

She was staring straight into my eyes and without blinking when she answered, “Sure, whatever you’re having is fine.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” One corner of my mouth automatically pulled up; I guess I was going to find out.

“I’m a big girl, bring it on.” She curled her free hand toward her giving me the ‘come here’ sign.

“Okay, be right back.” I freed her hand from my pocket and walked toward the bar. The bartender looked up impressed that I had managed to not get slapped so far. Apparently I didn’t look like her type.

“Can I get two Jacks on the rocks?” I laid some cash on the bar. Cash is always best when you would rather not have anyone know where you’ve been. He nodded and slid two drinks my way.

When I turned around, she was back on that damned cell phone, “Oh for Pete’s sake, he hasn’t even gotten back with my drink yet…” I kept back far enough to eavesdrop on her conversation without her being aware that I was listening, “Yes, I’m watching him to make sure he’s not putting anything in it… You know, if you were this worried, you could have come too… I’m fine, really. I gotta go, he’s coming back… Yes, I’ll call you! Bye!” She snapped her phone shut and rolled her eyes at me.

I set her drink down in front of her, “Your drink. Was that your friend again?” I tried to pretend like I hadn’t heard her side of the conversation. I couldn’t tell if she noticed, but it didn’t look like she cared much either way.

“Thanks,” she took a wary sip of her drink, “and yes.” I raised my glass and she took a longer swig with me this time. I was impressed; most girls that looked like her couldn’t drink Jack Daniel’s straight without a visible reaction.

“She must really not like me.” I was staring at her lips while the tip of her tongue slid across her bottom lip to lick away a stray drop of liquid. This was going to be too easy; I didn’t know how much longer I could wait.

“Whatever, I don’t really care that much what she thinks.” The look in her eyes told me that she liked me enough to ignore what her friend said.

“That much? But you do care a little.” I wasn’t sure exactly what she had promised her friend, but I knew I didn’t want her friend to come looking for her anytime soon. Of course, if she wanted to join in the fun that could be arranged.

“Enough that I wish she’d stop calling every few minutes.” Her face twisted in annoyance, which pleased me.

“You don’t like talking to your friends?” I ran my fingers over her cell phone, which was still sitting on the table.

Smiling again, she slid the phone out of my reach and into her purse, “Right now, I can think of better things to be doing.” I wasn’t fast enough to pull it off this time, but I would have to get that phone away from her before long.

“Like what?” I leaned toward her neck and took another deep breath. She smelled so good, that I involuntarily let out a little moan.

She gently pushed my shoulder back so she could look in my eyes. Oops, I went too far. “I would love to hear all about you and what you like to do.”

“There’s really not that much to tell.” I slid my hand around her waist and pulled her closer to me. “I paint when I want to, sleep when I want to, and eat when I’m hungry.” And right now I wanted more liquor in her. I raised my glass to drain it and motioned for her to do the same.

She finished her drink and made a little coughing noise. “You paint, like pictures? What do you paint pictures of?” She tilted her head to the side slightly; it reminded me of a little puppy trying to figure out something new.

“Yeah, pictures. You want another one?” Without giving her enough time to respond, I raised my empty glass to the waitress, who brought us another round. I took another swig, “Mostly still lifes, abstract stuff.” Giving into the urge, I reached up and touched her hair again. I couldn’t help but imagine what it would look like when she posed for me. I hoped that the hunger I felt wasn’t showing in my eyes.

“So that’s how you make your money, selling paintings?” She gave me an odd look; maybe I came on too strong, or maybe the Jack Daniel’s was kicking in.

“I do have other ways to supplement my income,” I pulled back slightly. I didn’t want to scare her off. All my plans for tonight included her.

She slipped her thumb into my back pocket again and smiled slightly with one of her eyebrows raised. “Like what?”

So I wasn’t coming on too strong, good. “Nah, let’s talk about you.” It was slightly unsettling how easy talking to her was. I didn’t want to share too much, keeping my guard up was important.

“What would you like to know? There’s really not that much to tell.” She smiled again, this time with her eyes half closed. She was definitely feeling her liquor now.

I rattled off a list of questions in my head, but quickly eliminated all but one, “What do you do?”

“Write mostly, I’m freelance, so anything’s up for grabs.” She winked. Did she just grab my butt? I think she did; this could get interesting.

“Does this mean I’m being interviewed right now?” I should probably be more careful.

“Not unless you want to be.” She leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “Or we could keep it off the record.”

“I’d like that. Off the record.” This was getting hard to handle; I had to get her out of here soon.

“Okay. What do you have to tell me off the record?” I could feel her warm breath on my neck. There was no way I could wait any longer.

“Not yet, first you finish your drink.” I lifted my glass and drained it. “Then we find someplace a little more private.” I watched her face carefully for any sign of reluctance.

She didn’t show any reluctance, “Now see, that is exactly what my friend thinks is a bad idea.” Instead she picked up her glass and emptied it too.

“And do you think it’s a bad idea?” I grabbed her elbow and turned her body toward the door.

There was no resistance when she replied, “I can think of worse things to do.”

How ironic, I thought, so can I. “It’s still early.” I started leading her out the door.

My SuperMom wears go-go boots.

Ladies and Gentleman, meet SuperMom! Via Bent Objects' Twitter I found this nifty little toy on Marvel's website where you can make your own superhero. I think she turned out great. Little does the general public know that her alter ego is little old me...

Let me give you a quick run-down of her super powers. We'll start at the top. She has super hair, people. Her hair is indestructible and dries in perfect shape instantaneously upon her exiting the shower. She never needs to worry about a blow dryer, flat iron, or curling iron. It also repels various fluids, such as baby vomit and bird poo.

Those glasses may look normal, but they are a homing device for lost toys, blankets, pacifiers and even children. They can also see through children to verify if indeed that child did shove a Lego up their nose or how many batteries they've swallowed.

The black shirt is useful for camouflaging dirt and debris and the skirt, well, if your legs looked like that wouldn't you be wearing a mini every chance you got? She doesn't grow hair on her legs or armpits either- no shaving or waxing! The jacket makes her look professional at PTA meetings and keeps guys from staring at her fabulous rack. It doesn't always work, with the guys that is. She's president of the PTA.

She's got wings not only because she's an angel, but because she has to fly from one child's function to the next and cannot be held back by petty things like traffic. They also make a pretty efficient duster.

Why the torch, you ask? Well, how else are you going to find your SuperMinivan at 2am in the SuperWalmart parking lot when you've run out to pick up that special item needed for a project due the next day at school? It also makes a delicious roast within minutes, no need to defrost.

The shoes? They were the best choice for her outfit. Go-go boots, looked a little, well... SuperDad would've liked them a little too much let's just say.

Got any other super powers you think she should have? By all means, make your own here. It's fun!

Can Johnny come out and play?

I saw this play along on Adventures in Babywearing (who is almost ready to pop out baby #4), and I thought it would be fun to share. Plus, I'm kind of wanting another one, and I'm hoping that reminiscing will help because I really do not need another monster running around!

Preggy Facts:

1. Who did you first inform about your pregnancy and how?
With Bubby (9), Monkey (6), and Sissy (4), I told Hubby, but with Monster (2) I actually told my co-worker because I took the test at my job. Then I called my sister-in-law because I didn't think Hubby would believe me, but he might have believed her. I think he started laughing when she told him.

2. Maximum weight?
I never gained more than 30 pounds, and my largest baby was just over 7 pounds. All the boys had really big heads, though.

3. Cravings?
With Bubby, I craved everything, but the strangest was potting soil (it looked really yummy!). Monkey was my Sour Patch Kid/Taco Bell baby, Sissy was my salad/loaded baked potato baby, and Monster was my white cheddar popcorn baby. I vaguely remember a crying fit because Hubby wouldn't wake up at 2am to go buy me some.

4. Aversions?
The smell of onions and garlic cooking and the smell of beer with all of them. Of course, we lived above a family from Mexico during two of my pregnancies. Dinner time was not fun!


5. Morning Sickness?
Yes for all! I got down to one hundred pounds with my first- very scary! I switched doctors for the other pregnancies and discovered they had drugs you could take. Why my first OB/Gyn didn't give them to me, I'll never know. With Monkey, I got food poisoning and couldn't eat for three days, but still managed to keep my weight up.

D Day Facts:

1. Number of Kids/Deliveries?
Four kids/Deliveries

2. NSD or CS?
Three NSD (only one with epidural) and my last was CS. Monster was sideways; the doctor turned him, but he flipped back around like the monster he is! The nurses felt sorry for me and gave me the suite with the big bed and extra room even though I hadn't reserved it ahead of time.

3. Girl or Boy?
Two boys, a girl, and a boy in that order.

4. AOG (age of gestation) on Birth?
All 38 weeks except Sissy was 38 weeks and one day (She had to be born on Monkey's birthday. She still likes to hog the spotlight.)

5. How long in labor?
My longest was 2 hours and 15 minutes for Monkey; the epidural slowed me down apparently. Sissy was the longest and skinniest and she shot right out with one push and only an hour and a half's worth of labor. Bubby was an hour and 45 minutes. I kept track because my sister and I had a competition going. I won! I should say though, that I carried really low, always started dilating by at least 30 weeks, and was usually ready to go by 37 weeks. My last month of pregnancy was always miserable!

Moms Who Played Along:
Mai~Yen~Arlerie~Hailey's Domain~Haley's Beats and Bits~Can of Thoughts~Designs by Vhiel~Anything & Everything Between~Vhiel's Corner~Lourdes' Mia~Pinay Mommy Online~Livy Updater~Adventures in Babywearing~Crafty Mama

If you play along, please copy the above play-alongers and add your blog!

Walk for the cure!

One more post for today!

For those of you that don't know, my mother-in-law has PKD (polycystic kidney disease). It's a genetic disease that causes cysts to grow in the kidneys and leads to kidney failure. She has gotten a transplant, but dialysis is still part of the treatment.

Fortunately she's well enough to participate in the Orlando Walk for PKD, and could use some support. If you can't walk with her, please consider donating via their website. She would also appreciate any prayers as well. My family will definitely be supporting her as she walks for her future and ours.

This is in her words a brief description of her battle with PKD:
I was diagnosed with PKD in 1999,after years of high blood pressure. My brother was diagnosed the same year. And my older half-sister also has PKD. This is the legacy that my Grandfather Crenshaw left his family--PKD. Although we sibilings all have PKD, we differ greatly in the way it has affected our health. I have had the most difficult time. I'm on dialysis, and I've already had one kidney transplant.
But, although the physical effects of PKD can be difficult, God has blessed me with so many insights and so much grace during the last nine years. He has shown me that surrendering my control of my life is the way to peace and acceptance of a difficult situation. He has allowed for the technology to keep me alive and fairly healthy. He has guided my doctors as they care for me. And He has given me peace about my disease.
Now I want to be an advocate for PKD research. My children and grandchildren are all at risk for PKD. If a parent has PKD, each of her children has a 50/50 chance of having the disease. I want a cure before my dear ones suffer.
Please help me by supporting me in the 2008 Walk for the Cure. I appreciate any donations, and I especially cherish your prayers for me.

Please be a help for those who need it!

Reflect-O Billy strikes again!

I'm an idiot. I never claimed to be incredibly intelligent, but right now I'm admitting my idiocy to the interwebs. Hubby and I went to see Smashing Pumpkins last night. Totally rocking band, free tickets, there was no way that a little thing like rain was going to stop us. Rain? Tropical Storms? HA! Bring it on! However, I should mention that we don't own an umbrella. Yes, we live in Florida and do not own an umbrella. My mother owns about five and it's just her and my brother, but my family of six does not have one umbrella among us. Really, it's just not practical to carry a little one and a huge umbrella, and children tend to break them or poke each other in the eye while carrying them, so we have phased out all umbrellas. It's just easier to stay inside or make a mad dash for it. Okay, so that being said, here's a shot of the line outside Hard Rock Live last night:

Notice, we were not the only morons without an umbrella, and with the way the rain was blowing, everyone got soaked whether they had an umbrella or not. And when I say soaked, I mean SOAKED! While waiting in the rain, an employee came down the line passing out our tickets and said, "Keep them dry!" Well, I put it in the driest place I could think of, my bra, and this is what our tickets looked like when we got to the door:

I could wring water out of my panties and bra after we got home. My jeans weighed twenty pounds. It was freakin' awesome!

So, the show... I think I'm getting old. Standing on the floor for three hours packed in like sardines no longer has any appeal to me. Or maybe it was the fact that excessive movement was causing chafing against my wet jeans. If we had seats (or had not been soaked), I would have been in heaven though, even with the twenty pound wet jeans.

Billy had on a skirt, nothing new, but his skirt was covered in what looked like three by five inch pieces of aluminum flashing that were arranged shingle style. It was fairly long (down to his ankles), but he did have the sense to put a slit in the back. I'm not really sure what he was wearing underneath. What would Tim Gunn suggest? Tights, skinny jeans, or just go commando? He had on a tight shiny silver long sleeved shirt with cargo pockets over each, um, man boob? Sorry, I'm not really sure how else to put that. So with his shiny head, and all the reflective clothes, he was like a giant disco ball throwing the club lights everywhere. Needless to say, I could not get a decent picture, but enjoy this shaky video of him playing 'Tonight, Tonight'....







The bass player had on a really cute, really short little red dress with a tutu skirt and black rubbery-looking legging/pants. I really want her dress, but I would need her thighs, too. Everyone else was dressed normally. I think I may have to make Hubby a skirt like Billy's. I have some aluminum tape that I could double over. It would be a total Project Runway challenge.

We ended up leaving before the end, because my poor skin and feet couldn't handle the wetness and standing anymore, but we did get to hear all my favorite songs and their version of 'Cat Scratch Fever'. It was still a great show even if we didn't make it to the end.

Oh, and the lake across the street from our house was overflowing into the street, so we got to drive through that in complete darkness which was fun. Maybe a canoe would be a better purchase idea than an umbrella. At least it would be more difficult for the children to destroy.

Cliche weather post ahead...

I'm just about over this Florida thing. No, I'm not moving, but I'm getting really tired of it. Well, maybe not Florida so much, just the weather. Yes, I'm gonna whine, brace yourself, and it kills me to do this because talking about bad weather is so cliche.

So this weather thing is getting annoying, really fast. I can deal with the rain. Rain is not bad; it makes everything green. I like to take naps when it's raining. We even have sunshine during the rain, so it's not particularly depressing. What I can't deal with is the idiotic way people deal with the rain. Yes, we have hurricanes, tropical storms, tornadoes, etc. Yes, it can get scary. Yes, you should probably get some sort of survival kit together. No, you should not interrupt my television escape from being shut inside a house with four kids to show me pictures of something that I can see if I look out my window. If I wanted to know exactly how fast the storm is rotating, where it is headed or any other minute detail, I will call Hubby who has the Weather Channel beamed directly into his skull. Do not take away the distractions I have to provide my children and myself to make it through the day.

Also, people have to eat, I understand that. My family needs to eat on a regular basis, three times a day as a matter of fact. However, it's difficult to provide them with that food when grocery shopping must be timed with avoiding the masses fighting over bottled water in supermarket aisles.

So, school was out Tuesday and Wednesday, but it was no worse than a normal rain shower. I don't even think I heard thunder. Thursday, when I got to school it was terrible. We lost power, and almost had to rent a canoe for the trip home. No school today, I'm predicting the weather will be just bad enough so I can't send the kids outside until just before Hubby and I leave to go see the Smashing Pumpkins. Then the sky will open up. Maybe I should start my own Weather Channel.

It's a bird; it's a plane...

No, it's a kid with his underwear outside his pajamas! I think his sister's cowboy boots and the kitchen towel cape make the ensemble complete.

He looks like he just spotted a crime in progress.

Can words ever hurt?

Here it is. I'd appreciate any constructive criticism. As much as "I just didn't like it" may express your opinion, it doesn't help me! Please don't steal my words; I worked hard on them. (It might not appear to be the case, but it is.) You may however use an excerpt and link back to me if you feel the need. Oh, and this is loosely based on real life events, so if you don't like the way I've portrayed you, well, deal with it!

Brown Eyes

I was drenched in sweat, sticky from the heat and humidity. We had to be close to the equator. I tried to remember my World Geography, but even remembering my name was tough in this climate. I knew we were as south as you could get in Mexico, and, with the jungle so dense, we may have even crossed the border without knowing.

I couldn’t recall why they had chosen me to come along on their trip. I wasn’t a medical professional like most our group. I wasn’t even good with my hands like the rest. I was here to “help.” Why they thought I was going to be a help is beyond me. I tried to do what they asked. I had painted earlier in the day, and my lack of painting skills had left me with visible streaks of beige and black paint on my face, arms and legs. I could feel it soaking through my hair as well. How the paint managed to dry in this humidity surprised me. A shower might not be a bad idea. The ice cold shower would probably feel good right now, and if it weren’t for the giant toads that liked the cool bathroom, I might have taken one already.

So I just sat on this handmade bench in the shade waiting for my next instructions. Sitting carefully on these benches was necessary; I didn’t want to get splinters in my legs. This would be the place to get them though. We had doctors and nurses galore. With a quick glance around at all my handiwork, I inspected all of the freshly painted walls facing the courtyard where I sat. Perfectly copying from slips of paper, I even painted some Spanish words above the doors, unsure of what they meant. I wondered if I should ask if I could start washing out the paintbrushes, but there was no one speaking a language that I recognized nearby.

Most of the patients that came for treatment had left already. I wondered if the big sign next to the dirt road had the hospital’s hours of operation on it. This wasn’t a hospital according to my definition of the word, but it did have a native doctor on staff twenty four hours a day. The American doctors and nurses came mostly to perform cataract surgery and to bring much needed medicine.

I was almost ready to head back to our bunks to find the other teenage girl that came with us, when a very slow moving group of people climbing out of the back of a pickup truck caught my eye. I figured they were moving a sick person, but it was hard to see which one of them was sick. They were tightly clustered, trying hard not to jostle their precious cargo. Not one of them seemed to notice me as they moved to another handmade bench just a few yards away from me. When they finally stopped, I could see who they were carrying. A boy, not much younger than I was, slumped down on the bench, and two of the older men sat on either side of him to hold him up.

He was thin, very thin, and his worn, dirty clothes hung loosely on his frame. His whole body shook from head to toe. I knew I shouldn’t be staring, but he looked so close to his end that looking away was impossible. His bronze skin was flushed, but he didn’t appear to be sweating. I guessed a high fever was the cause. I could hear one of men in his group moving from doorway to doorway asking for a doctor, and secretly I hoped he wouldn’t lean against the wet paint. Guilt rushed over me, and I lowered my head embarrassed for being so selfish.

Looking up after a moment’s time spent clearing my mind, I was startled to see his sunken brown eyes staring back at me. He appeared surprised to see me there. I was used to the surprise, my bright blue eyes and pale skin weren’t something most of the natives had seen before. I had even gotten used to the children wanting to touch my arms and light brown hair, but the way he looked at me was unsettling. Even though he was violently shaking and burning with fever, he still gazed at me with clear eyes. I expected fever to leave his eyes dull or glassy, but they were just as clear as any of the other eyes I had seen today. He had hope in his eyes, too. As if he believed that the American doctors could help him. I knew we had brought some medicine, but the small cases I had seen didn’t look like they held much. How much of that was already used, and how much would be helpful to him?

I gave him a slight smile of hope, even though all of the women had been warned not to smile at the men. We would already be a target of unwanted attention, and we didn’t need to show any sort of encouragement. I was sure that in his state danger wouldn’t be a problem. He may have smiled back, but it was hard to tell a smile from a grimace as hard as he was shaking. I wanted to walk up to him and offer him water, like I had done with the other patients. I was frozen, unable to move, staring at his clear brown eyes. I couldn’t even remember where the water bucket had been left.

The sound of footsteps rushing my way broke my trance. One of his escorts had finally found the head American doctor, and they were rushing toward him. I stood quickly when the head doctor noticed me. His words were harsh and abrupt. I wasn’t aware that danger was an issue, but he warned me away telling me that it might be malaria. I remembered now that the last few pills of my malaria vaccine had been left at home, something that concerned the doctors at our departure. Fighting the urge to walk away, I wanted to rush toward the boy, too, and help carry him gently into an examination room. I wanted to wipe his feverish head with a cool, damp cloth. My legs locked as I willed them into inching away. One step at a time, I backed down the walkway that led to our bunks, wondering what was going to happen to him. I kept walking backward until I heard the voice of my bunk mate. I turned quickly and ran toward her. She had our towels and was willing to keep watch for toads while I showered if I would do the same for her.

I didn’t say much while the cold water ran over me. The paint scrubbed off quickly, but the vivid mental picture of him was not removed so easily. While I dried off and dressed, I tried to contribute to the conversation she was making. She had gone on a little hike to help someone else with another task, and I tried to sound interested. All I could think about was the boy’s brown eyes.

After our shower, we were expected to help with dinner. Normally this task would have been fun. The native women who helped at the hospital were trying to teach us how to make tortillas. They told me because my tortillas kept puffing up that I was going to marry soon. I laughed, but kept a wary eye on the door waiting for the head doctor to enter.

He didn’t join us for dinner, and I didn’t hear his voice outside our door where the men gathered to plan for the next day. As I lay in bed listening to them and the sound of monkeys screaming at each other, I let my thoughts drift back to the boy and his clear brown eyes, full of hope. I wasn’t able to keep my eyes open as long as I wanted.

Sleep came too quickly for both of us.

All right, so what did you think? Give it to me straight; I think I can take it.

I spy something white...

Hubby has selective vision to match his selective hearing. I think it's a man thing.

I have this thing with replacing the toilet paper. I don't really care if he puts it on the holder, but he at least has to put a new roll on the back of the toilet when he uses the last of it. Usually he remembers. Last night, I used the bathroom after him, and lo and behold, there was an empty toilet paper roll where a full one should be. I asked him to hand me one (our bathroom cabinet is on the other side of the door and impossible to reach from the toilet- a woman did not design our bathroom). He swore up and down that he replaced the roll, but there was no paper in the bathroom. He tried blaming it on me by saying it was my fault I couldn't see it. So I asked him if he had taken the toilet paper roll into the kitchen when he washed his hands. He promised he didn't, but I remembered seeing a roll of toilet paper on the kitchen counter.

(I'm not really sure why he washed his hands in the kitchen when there was soap and a towel at our bathroom sink, but that's an entirely different issue.)

So I told him to go in the kitchen and specifically look in the spot that I saw the traveling roll, but he couldn't see it. It's a toilet paper roll in a kitchen- not exactly something that might blend in. Instead he dug a new roll out from under the bathroom sink. Well, after I finished my business and washed my hands in the bathroom sink, I made a point of showing him that the only roll in the bathroom was the new roll he brought me. I also walked into the kitchen and retrieved the roll that was in the exact spot I said it was and showed it to him. Why? Why can't men see things like that? Not only did I remember seeing a roll in the kitchen, but remembered the exact spot it was even though I wasn't really trying to remember.

He's done this with other things, too. Every time the tv remote control goes missing, I ask him if he checked the microwave. Yes, that's right people, he put the remote inside the microwave shortly after we were married. We went a whole night without a remote until I had to heat something up and found it. I have also found various items (mostly the cordless phone) in the freezer and refrigerator.

Are all men this way? He has used the excuse that he's absentminded because he's always thinking. Well, I manage to think and keep decent track of four kids. What is it in their mental wiring that makes them so blind?

To be fair, he is incredibly smart, and I did warn him that this was going on my blog. Oh, and our kids are the same way. They didn't get that from me.

1977

I found this via Brooke (who found it on Quirkology), and since I want to be just as cool as Brooke I thought it would be fun.

If you want to be cool like us, just type the year you were born into a Flickr search, and pick your favorites. Here's mine:

It's kind of hard to see, but the marquee says "Star Wars Shows at 7 and 9:30". Pretty cool, huh?

This one is actually taken in England, but I like it because I have a picture of me and my older sister taken on those exact lawn chairs. My dad had pants that color, too.

These next two are sad, but they were taken on my birthdate. Two planes collided in heavy fog on a runway in Spain. Out of 694 people on board both planes only 61 people survived. No one on the plane below made it out alive.

I also found a really cool aerial shot of Disneyland, but I couldn't get it to post correctly so you'll have to go to the Flickr page to see it.

Enjoy!

Elmo coded in my kitchen.

I made an Elmo cake that bled when you cut it. Hey, I never promised that I was sane. It was for the going away party for one of the guys in our youth group. What teenage boy wouldn't like a bleeding Elmo cake?

Poor Elmo never made it to the party though. I filled him with the blood (corn syrup dyed red) and set his face back on, but I wasn't careful enough and he cracked right between the eyes and bled out on my kitchen counter. I tried sealing the blood in with icing, but it was too late. The hemorrhaging wouldn't stop. I gave up decorating and let the vultures (mostly just the two year old) peck his eyes out. There will be no resting in peace for this yummy mess.

Hindsight tells me that a pound cake batter may be a sturdier choice to handle the assembly process.

So this one time at band camp...

I had a hugely ridiculous post prepared, but like I said it was hugely ridiculous. You may thank me for sparing you the ridiculousness at a later date because there is never any guarantee that I won't give in to the temptation at some point.

I did write a shorter story (2 1/2 pages) that my in-house editor thinks is better, so I'll be posting that one instead.

And that's where I'll stop before things get ridiculous.

Hi, my name is Sara, and I'm a stalker.

I did get a chance to stop by the Tingle family's benefit at Austin's Coffee and Film. The youth rally ended earlier than I thought, so Hubby and I shuffled a few teens in with us. I don't think the teens really knew what to expect. I explained there would be live music in a coffee shop, but I don't think any of them had ever hung out at a coffee shop before.

It was packed, but we found a place to sit all the way in the back. We couldn't hear the music that well, but we did talk to some interesting people, well really just one. Hubby and I kept saying "Thanks Dan!" to each other on the way home.

I did get a chance to chat with Megan for a bit, and I admit that it felt a tad stalker-ish. Especially since I knew what she looked like, but I don't think she knew what I looked like. Maybe I should change my picture to something a little clearer.

At any rate, Hubby and I had fun, and now have a new inside joke. We did get some quality bonding time with our core group of teens, too. The Tingles have been added to my list of missionaries to pray for as well.

To post or not to post, that is the question...

Some of you may already know that I wrote quite a bit when I was younger. Before life got in my way, I was either reading or writing short stories. I've never really had the patience to write a huge novel, but I wrote short stories as much as possible. I did write some poetry, too, but I don't like being restricted to number of syllables, rhyming, and line length.

Notice I didn't say they were any good. I've never claimed I was an author; I just write short stories. I stumbled upon a sheet of paper with story ideas on it a few days ago while looking for a car title (that's another story), and didn't really think much of it, so I threw it away. Well, of course, it's been on my mind since then. I decided to take the most interesting (to me anyway) and actually do something with it. Now I have a short story that's a little over three thousand words. I'm happy with it. I don't know that it's the best thing I've ever written, but I'm happy with it.

It's loosely based on something that happened to me at college, but I did embellish a bit for dramatic effect. I'm allowed to do that. So anyway, I'm debating on whether I want to put part of it on here. It's long, so if I did decide to put it on here, I would either have to only put part of it, or break it up into pieces. Let me know what you think. I'm thinking I could use some honest feedback.

Cool Treats to benefit little cuties!

Buy a Blizzard today! Seriously, it's for a good cause. 100% of the profits will go to your local Children's Miracle Network Hospital. How cool is that? (Bad pun intended) For more details go to your local Dairy Queen or this website.

HA, like we need an excuse to eat ice cream!

Music for Missions

I happened to stumble across a discussion thread on Ravelry that was promoting a live show at Austin's Coffee and Film in Winter Park on Friday. It sounds like a great time and a great cause.

The Tingle family (Wayne, Megan, Alison and Emily) are trying to raise money for a missions training trip to Mexico. Their eventual goal is to make it to Nicaragua under LifeLink International.

I have to admit, I don't really know these people, but I do know that a couple of our church's missionary families have had to leave the missions field because of finances. Anyone who is willing to follow God's command even in this tight economic state deserves what little I can do.

Hubby and I won't be able to attend because we have a youth group function already planned, but I hope that there will be a few more people to take our place.

Here's all the information-
Austin’s Coffee & Film
929 West Fairbanks Ave
Winter Park, FL 32789

Show starts at 9PM

The Pow Wow, Evangelin, Chris Hall will be performing. There is no cover, but donations will be accepted for their trip.

Arg, thar be no spoilers here!

Hubby made a special trip to the bookstore this morning. Oh yes, he got me Breaking Dawn. I started it almost immediately, but had to take a break because we had family pictures taken this afternoon. I still finished it in one day.

I'm not going to post any spoilers, but I have to gush about the book. It contained everything I hoped it would. I honestly can't think of a plot line that I would want her to add. Well, the book is 756 pages; there's no way it could have been any shorter with everything Stephenie Meyer packed in it.

If you haven't read the beginning of the Twilight series, please don't start with this book. You really need to start with Twilight. And hey, if you get started now, Liz, you may get them all read by the time the movie comes out in December. (That was mostly for my sister-in-law, sorry.)

Just one little thing that I've already twittered. Renesmee? Really, that's a reasonable name? I would have gone with something different, but I understand the sentiment.

I promise that further posts will not be so Twilight series centered. This is not all I think about, contrary to what Hubby says.

If you wanna be a grump, that's okay.

I'm grumpy. I probably won't get my hands on Breaking Dawn until next week. Now I have to go into hiding all weekend to avoid spoilers. ugh.

Putting the "Special" back in Special Features.

I just have to say that I got Penelope from Netflix in the mail today. Not only is it a great story, but a sneak peek of the movie Twilight is included in the special features! I enjoyed both very much. That is all.