~Helen Steiner Rice~
Sunday, August 31, 2008
~Helen Steiner Rice~
Saturday, August 30, 2008
That's why I love email. The junk mail piles up and after a while, Gmail, or hotmail, or whomever they happen to be clean out the bin every two weeks or so. Most of the time I do a quick scan once every other day or so to make sure that no important things got filed incorrectly. The last time I checked, I was rather amused with the contents. I learned a few things from my Junk Mail yesterday:
1. I need to enhance my male anatomy. I know, everyone gets these, but it still cracks me up that they don't know that I don't even have male anatomy. I mean, wouldn't that be a surprise to my husband one day?
2. Weird stuff is going on between Britney and Arnold. Apparently she has transplanted her nether-regions to Arnold, all in an attempt to 'erase some fool memory syndrome.' It almost made me want to click on it. But not quite.
3. Paris Hilton. Good LAHWD! That child has issues. And here I thought it was just because Mommy and Daddy didn't set limits on anything, and used money to try to buy love and obedience. I already knew there was some crazy stuff going on with her, but I didn't know it had anything to do with 'mating' with aliens, giving birth to alien twins, owning a prison ant farm, or getting 'saved' in prison, after which she's going to be a camp counselor with her friend Nicole Richie. During that fun filled summer she purchased an iPhone, and is now set to be executed.
So. I want to know. Who is the crack-head that writes all the junk mail? Because certainly, that's some messed up stuff... and I left the really raunchy stuff out. How do they even come up with this stuff? What does your junk mail tell you?
Friday, August 29, 2008
1,887,480How Many Germs Live On Your Keyboard?
Created by OnePlusYou - Online Dating
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Summer seems to skip over this area of the country entirely. I have noticed while looking at the national weather map, that Eureka, California also has this problem. And maybe parts of Washington. But the rest of the country's high temperatures are a red blanket, and we're the yellow sheets poking out of the ends. Warm temperatures are not to be found here.
I have spent my entire summer wearing long jeans, and sweatshirts. There have been a few days when I'm fed up and decide to wear Capri's instead. It has occasionally been warm enough to sport a short sleeved polo, but only twice have I left the house in flip flops. Once, when we were leaving for Nebraska, and had only about an hour to go until we hit summer, and the other day. The other day, I nearly lost my toes to frostbite.
I went to San Fransisco the other day to visit a friend. It was much warmer there that it was at home. As in about 15 degrees warmer. San Fransisco was about 75 degrees. At 2:00 PM.
I long for the day when I'll see a temperature above 72 degrees, when I won't crave a campfire for warmth in the evening. When my toes will thaw completely. That hasn't happened here. Everyone said the fog would go away sometime in July. Folks, I'm looking outside right now. The fog is still there. Everyone says it will get warm in the fall. I am not lamenting the end of summer. I crave the end of summer. Fall, come quickly, and bring with you some warm temperatures!
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
This Week's Prompt:
Genre: Romantic Comedy.
What? Write a movie synopsis. Or a pitch? Maybe a snippet of dialogue. Perhaps a story.
And include an egg(s).
Fred: I'm going to boil an egg in the microwave for breakfast.
Wilma: You most certainly cannot do that. It won't work.
Fred: You don't know what you're saying. Of course you can boil an egg in the microwave!
Wilma: I'm not sure it's a good idea. Here's a pan (hands pan to Fred). Fill it with water, and do it the old fashioned way.
Fred: No. I'm going to prove you wrong. I am going to boil an egg. In the microwave.
(Fred pulls an egg out of the refrigerator, sets it on a paper plate, and puts the ensemble into the microwave.)
Fred: two minutes should be good enough.
Wilma: Let me know when you're done. This is NOT going to work.
(Fred pushes the buttons, setting the microwave for two minutes as Wilma stands by, arms crossed shaking her head. Two minutes go by in silence as the couple waits for the egg to be done.)
*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*
Fred: The egg is done. (he pulls the plate out of the microwave, and with a towel grabs the egg, still in the shell, holds it up into the air with a victorious look on his face.) SEE! It can be done. I boiled an egg in the microwave.
Egg flies everywhere. There is egg on the ceiling, on the floor, all over Fred, including in his ear canal, hair and face. Pieces of shell are scattered like shrapnel all over the kitchen.
Wilma: What was that you said about boiling an egg in the microwave Fred?
Fred: What? I can't hear you. You need to speak into my other ear. I'm deaf in this one now.
Wilma: Yeah, and you've got egg on your face.
The whole "egg on your face" thing might be a little too, well, intellectual and 'smart' but some people would get it, right? I mean, if they ever got over the whole egg all over the kitchen thing.
**Update!** Yes! This really is a true story! I just didn't tell it as well as she could!
Monday, August 25, 2008
Little Monster is screaming HEY! HEY! MOM! MAAAAAMAAAAA! HEY! DAAAAAAAADEEEEEEEEE! HEEEEY! (BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG on the wall). I roll over and pretend not to hear. It is a little earlier than I want to get up. Not the Momma is loudly (it isn't his fault the cheap tubs creak) taking his morning shower. HEEY!!! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! HEEY!! NOOOOO! The sun is peeking through the curtains that didn't get pulled shut and shining RIGHT! INTO! MY! EYES! I roll over onto my back and try to coax my eyes open. I see that the dogs are staring at me from their perch at the foot of the bed. Their big eyes and ears laying flat on their head say "hello! I really have to go here!" UH-OH! rings from the room across the hall. I guess I do, indeed, need to get up.
Mondays are busy. I try to get the house cleaned and get the grocery shopping done. This week, I wouldn't have to go -- except I forgot to buy Little Monster waffles last week, and now we're out.
It's a new week. It's a new day. The sun is shining and the house is trashed from yet another weekend of craziness. I can do one of two things: grumble and get up, be crabby and ruin every one's day because I had to get up too early OR I can get up and get with it. This morning, I got with it. The bed is already stripped, I'm enjoying my coffee while Little Monster pulls at my sleeve so I'll help him into my lap for the fortieth time in the last five minutes only to want down to roll his car across the kitchen. I'm excited. I want the house to be clean, I want to feel that relaxed feeling when everything is in its place.
Okay, do you want to know the real reason? I want a chance to crawl back into bed. And if the house is clean, if my work is done, I'll be able to sleep when Little Monster takes his nap. And that, my friends is worth getting out of bed early for!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
I went to a new church with a friend this morning. It was wonderful! One of the things I've been praying about is the whole 'submit to your husband' thing. You know, the Bible says "Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is head of the wife, as also Christ is head of the church; and He is the Savior of the body." (Ephesians 5:22-23). I know a lot of feminist women that would read that and stop right there and say.. "Well, I'm not going to do that! I'm not going to SUB-MIT! to my husband." I know. I used to be one of them. But then, keep reading:
"Therefore, just as the church is subject to Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything. Husbands, love your wives just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for her" (Ephesians 5:24-25)."So husbands ought to love their own wives as their own bodies; he who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as the Lord does His church... Nevertheless let each one of you in particular so love his own wife as himself and let the wife see that she respects her husband." (Ephesians 5:28-29, 33)
Well, that tells the husbands what they are supposed to do doesn't it? A husband is not supposed to be domineering, violent, or demanding. A husband is supposed to love, honor and cherish his wife. Just as Christ does the church. A man is never supposed to do terrible things to his wife. He is to treat her as he would treat his own person. While a husband is the biblical head of the household and his wife, it is not to be misunderstood that he has complete power over her. He is NOT to abuse his wife. Period. "For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as the Lord does His church."
I am blessed to have a husband who follows these principles. He loves, cherishes, and honors me. Sometimes, I do not return that favor. I am not always very nice, especially after a particularly long day of MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM ringing in the background of the onslaught of telephone calls, emails, housework, cooking, and chasing that is my daily life. I have given so much of myself to others, that I have nothing left to give to him. He works hard to provide for us all day, and lately when he's come home it's been to a very tired and very crabby me. I am short-tempered, impatient, and mean. Something had to give. So that is the reason why I've been absent. It has been good for me to take a few days off. My batteries are re-charging, and hopefully I'll be back to my bloggy self shortly.
Not the Momma, no matter how crabby I am at the end of the day, I love you. I am glad you are home. I hope you are enjoying the meal I prepared while lovingly thinking of you. I want to enjoy the time we have together before you return to sea duty. I really do love you. For you. And not just because the Bible says I should. (*wink!)
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
It appears as if the tire is flat
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
The salt is gone
The couch is covered.
You've begun to shout.
I wish I had listened,
and not been naughty.
Now I'm in time-out.
I realize now
that salt may taste good,
but it's not to be poured on the couch.
Yeah, that one's from Little Monster. Stealing my salt shaker and POURING it onto the couch -- his new favorite hobby. And poetry... That's hard! :)
Monday, August 18, 2008
When I was sixteen, the word "Cars" mean freedom. I was sixteen and going to be able to drive on my own -- anywhere I wanted to go. Gas was cheap and the thought of being able to drive myself to get food that wasn't prepared in a school cafeteria was what life was all about. I loved driving. I loved driving so much that I was afraid people could see it in the way I handled the steering wheel, how I lovingly caressed it as I hand-over-hand made left turns. Every time I got into the car, I was practically making love to the vehicle as we drove. Eventually the burning passion fizzled into an amorous relationship. But even now, I love driving cars. But the word "Cars" does something much different to me than it did over a decade ago.
Now, the word "cars" strikes fear into my heart. Because usually, I hear it from you. It usually sounds something like "taahh AAAHS?" If, which I respond to with a "no", I am almost guaranteed that you'll throw a fit. If I answer yes, you're gone. Running, no sprinting to the living room, climbing onto the middle of the couch. You're ready. "MOOO-OOOOOM!! MOM!MOM!MOM!MOM!MOM! TAAA-AAAHS! TAA-AAHS?! YES?! TAA-AAHS?!" resounds throughout the house from the couch as you announce to the world that we are about to watch your most. favorite. movie. EVER. As far as you're concerned, it's the only thing worth watching.
It's a cute movie. And after watching it, Oooh 39,308 times, I'm pretty sure I can tell you every word that's said in the movie. I can tell you all of the little quirky things that you might not notice unless you'd actually seen the movie 39,308 times. Like the fact that Lightning McQueen has tread on his tires... but racing tires don't have tread. And that the 'jet streams' in the air are in the shapes of tire treads. And Mater. Mater's cute, especially because he's a 'precision instrument of speed and aromatics.' I can tell you which character is making which face at what time. I have learned to appreciate all of the little things that the animators included, and all of the thought that went into the show.... But Please, for the LOVE of ALL THAT IS GOOD, Can we please watch something else today?
Sunday, August 17, 2008
I take that back. YOU, who see me on the Internets or in real life out walking around, you might not have known that. At the end of last week, I retreated into my home to deal with sick children, laundry, cooking, and organizing. And at the beginning of this week -- it's all done. The house is a mess again, the organizing is gone, there is more laundry to be done. Sometimes it feels as if I'm in it all alone. That's why I need my Tuesday mornings. Tuesdays I'm reminded that I'm not the only woman out there trying to take care of all of this. I get together with women who believe the same things I believe, and we sing, fellowship, and learn more about God and his Word.
This Tuesday, though, things didn't go my way. I didn't get to stay for the entire lesson, because Little Monster wasn't feeling well. I tried to stay as long as I could, but he was getting restless, and would not stay in child care. So I left early. When I returned, I returned to a house that was in shambles. The trash was taken out, but no liner was replaced, dirty dishes were in the sink, the floor desperately needed a sweep and a vacuum, the dogs would not stop barking outside, but inside, they were under-foot, tripping me at every turn. Little Monster calling "mom, mom, mom, mom, mom" wanted to finger paint, and I.... I admit that I wasn't a very good person. I spent a lot of time yelling. Yelling at the dogs to SHUT! UP! Little Monster ended up in time-out because he wouldn't sit in his chair.
I realized that I needed help. It wasn't help that I could get from a person, either. Because really, my house wasn't in terrible shape, I just needed to spend a few minutes tidying. Little Monster wasn't really being naughty, he was just tired of sitting in his high chair. He's ready for a 'big-boy' chair. The dogs, well, they were just being dogs. I didn't need to yell at the dogs or put Little Monster in time-out. I was the one throwing the temper tantrums. I needed the time-out. So I did it. I put myself in time-out. Little Monster went into his room to play, the dogs were busy sulking in their beds and I went to the living room. I prayed. I picked up my bible, and opened it. I had written down some verses to be read months ago. I had lost it inside the Bible, but I found it. The next one that wasn't crossed off was Ephesians, Chapter 2. You can read it below:
The words that I needed to hear, were right there. Right there, waiting for me.
1"And you He made alive, who were dead in trespasses and sins, 2in which you once walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit who now works in the songs of disobedience, 3among whom also we all once conducted ourselves in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, just as the others. 4But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, 5even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), 6and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, 7that in the ages to come He might show the
exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness towards us in Christ Jesus. 8For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, 9not of works, lets anyone should boast. 10For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.
8For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, 9not of works, lets anyone should boast. 10For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.
For BY GRACE you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the GIFT OF GOD, not of works.
Suddenly, the dirty dishes in the sink, the disorganized dining room stacked with books, the laundry that needed to be folded, they became a little easier to tackle. The To-Do list on the fridge didn't get any shorter, but the items on it didn't seem so daunting. I was a bit humbled. We were put here to do good things, not in order to get on God's good side, but because, even if we make mistakes, even if we're not perfect, if we believe, we're already there.
Each Sunday I will post a 'Sunday Message' with the intent of sharing something the Lord has taught me during the week.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Descriptive writing is not something I'm gifted with. At least not lately. But I'm going to try it anyway.
As my body sinks into the water, I feel the air being sucked out of my lungs. My breathing quickens as though I were hyperventilating. Soon, though, my body in the wetsuit warms the water, and I can breathe normally again. I can feel the rubber from the water ski tight on my feet, ready to go. Drops of water sprinkle my face as my mom lobs the rope to me. My gloves loosen when the water seeps into them, and they no longer squeeze my hands like vices. I grab the rubbery handle and squeeze. The scent of exhaust and lake linger in the air as the boat pulls away. I'm shifting my weight from side to side like a gymnast on a beam, trying to find my center of balance, waiting for the rope to pull taught, for the moment to be right. It has been a while since I've done this, I'm not sure I'll remember how. The fear hits me for a second, like when you're on the first hill of a roller coaster, looking down, ready to fall. Suddenly, it is right.
My eyes close tight as the water rushes up around the ski. I remember to open them just in time to see the upside-down waterfall erupt from the lake around my legs. The boat gets to speed, and I'm flying on top of the water. The ski has become a part of me as I glide over the wakes and begin my turn. The rope slackens just a bit, I slow down, time stands still for just a second. There is a slight pause, then, like a rocket, I fly across the wake. Remember to bend your knees, keep your arms at your hip, lean just enough. There is some turbulence as I go over the wakes, and then I'm flying again.
I never imagined there would be an August when I'd put water skiing together with a wet-suit. But it was too cold outside here today to imagine skiing without one. My nose and ears hurt from the wind whipping around them. I miss summer. No one complain to me about heat. I promise I won't brag (read: I won't brag endlessly over and over again) about the weather here come winter, okay?
Monday, August 11, 2008
My world. It is over.
Last night we were outside playing with the dog. He wanted to take Kleenex for a walk. While we were walking (he was carrying the leash -- by himself, mind you), I told him that he could have a bubble bath. He said baaaa? buuubbbooooees? (Translation: Bath? Bubbles?)
We turned around to come home. He had to sit in time-out for throwing a tantrum. He did not want to return home. When we returned home, we played a bit, watched a bit more of an animated movie we'd started earlier. Then, we told him it was time for bed.
I had forgotten what I had told him earlier. As we were undressing him, he said "Baaaa??"
Me: "No, not tonight. Let's just go to bed. It's late."
His response was immediate whining" NO! MAMA! BA! BUH-BO!
He remembered that I had told him he could have a bubble bath. Thirty minutes before.
This means two things:
- I'm in trouble. No longer can I distract him by saying we're going to do something... No longer can I forget if I've told him we'd move on to another activity. If I say "do you want to ride your bike?" I'd better mean it... Even an hour or two later.
- He's in trouble. If he can remember stuff like that, he surely can remember that throwing things is a No-No. Right? I've been giving him waaaaay too much lee-way.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
One of the best arguments non-Christians have against the Christian religion is the hypocrisy that reigns among us. I'm not talking about people who make honest mistakes, or give in to temptation every once in a while. I'm talking about the people who are Sunday-only Christians. They are the holier-than-thou type that judge others (which they are not supposed to do -- I admit, I have caught myself doing it at times), and treat others poorly.
Christians are not perfect. We make mistakes, we sin. It's what happens, we're human. But we try not to. Or we're supposed to try not to. Period. When we do, we recognize that we have sinned, and ask for forgiveness. And because we ask, it is given.
Back to the license plate cover. A couple of weeks ago, I was in church, and the message was about how Christians are not supposed to seek revenge. Three times the bible says "eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth," (Exodus 21:24, Leviticus 24:20, and Deuteronomy 19:21). So, if someone hits you, You hit them back, right? Right? No. Matthew 38:42 says:
38"You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.'[g]
39But I tell you, Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the
right cheek, turn to him the other also. 40And if someone wants to sue you and
take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. 41If someone forces you to go
one mile, go with him two miles. 42Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn
away from the one who wants to borrow from you.
The other day, our pastor talked about the act of revenge and what the Old Testament says about that whole 'eye for an eye' phrase. These were laws set up to protect people from over-zealous revenge. If you took someones eye, you were going to lose no MORE than your eye as punishment. You were not to be killed for it. It was set up as a limit to the revenge that you could exact, the justice you could seek, not as a starting point.
I have a hard time with the whole revenge thing sometimes. Revenge feels good, especially at first. But what does it do to your heart? Isn't it better to kill with kindness? To be an example to the people who are treating you poorly by being exceptionally nice to them? Shouldn't we be treating our enemies as our friends? It's hard, very hard to be nice to people who are nasty to you. But it does show them a good example of Christianity.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Friday, August 08, 2008
What you Need:
1 Salmon Fillet (or more.. just make more paste!)
Brown Sugar (a few tbsp per fillet)
2-3 Tbsp olive oil, or maybe a little more?
1 small clove garlic
Dill (you can use fresh -- you'll just need more. I use dried.. OR I leave out the garlic and use the Pampered Chef dill seasoning mix.)
Are you ready for how difficult this is going to be? Are you sure? Okay, I'm kidding. This is probably one of the easiest recipes known to man. You can make this, some corn on the cob, and serve my Cheaper than Rachael Ray Banana Creme Pie for dessert.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
If you are talking about nursing, weaning is when your child no longer drinks their milk from your breast. That does not, however, imply that months, even a year or more later your child will not suddenly pull down or lift up your shirt to show off the goods in front of everyone at the grocery store. It also does not imply that he will stop putting his hands between the 'ladies' while he comforts himself to sleep. After all, if weaning did imply those things, there are some grown men who would not be considered 'weaned.'
2. Signs your Baby is hungry?
It depends on the age of the baby. If you're having the same troubles my friend is having now, the fact that he is simply alive and breathing could be a sign that he is hungry. Another signs is crying. However, that could also mean the following things: Baby is dirty, Baby is tired, baby is over stimulated, baby wants to be held, clothing is pinching baby, the dog is looking at the baby, and the baby needs to be burped.
3. Smell of Mothballs and breastfeeding
I know, this isn't a question. But, um, yeah. If you are smelling that, it's time to change your shirt. You probably went to Grandma's house to dig through boxes for old baby toys and leaked a bit. Or, your husband sent you a box so saturated with moth balls that the entire tri-state stinks of cancer causing chemicals.
4. Why do I have to wait until my baby is 4 months old to wean him?
You don't. You do what's best for you and your baby. If you cannot stand the thought of nursing him, or you are not winning the difficult battle that can be nursing a child, you don't wait. You just do it. When it's right for you. Every mommy and every baby is different.
5. You Know you're married when...
You consider buying a fart blanket for the bedroom.
6. Are Mothballs bad for babies?
Um. Yes. Mothballs are just plain bad for everyone and everything. Even mice and bugs are smart enough to stay away from the toxic things. That's why they work.
6. Blow up gophers with propane?
Maybe. Just maybe. Let me know how that works out. If it weren't for the crazy amount of holes in the neighborhood, I'd totally try it too.. But I'm afraid I'd blow up the whole zip code.
7. Is it dangerous to let baby scream while driving?
You should be worried about the fact that the baby is driving. Babies are meant to scream, but generally they are too little to drive. How do they steer and reach the pedals at the same time?
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Chambers alleges that God has made "terroristic threats." This isn't the first time he's made a mockery of the court system in this country. And a while ago, I wrote this rather angry statement to Mr. Chambers:
I hope you DO get your day in the Douglas County Court Mr. Chambers. I hope God
shows up. But know this: Even if He doesn’t appear before the Douglas County
Court, you will appear before Him at the gates someday. I pray Mr. Chambers that
before that day you will rethink many of the things you have said and done in
your life and for our government. I pray, Mr. Chambers that you will find the
Lord; that you will repent for your sins. Because, Mr. Chambers, in the true
end, He is the only one that can Save you.
I have not changed my position, nor do I regret that statement. I am glad that Mr. Chambers is getting his day in court. I have faith that God will find himself a defense attorney (I will pray that the defense attorney's ears will be open to hearing the calling) and will be able to prove that God does not issue threats. God makes promises. God makes the most sincere promises, and he keeps them. That is not to say that the Lord is promising plague and pestilence, flood and famine on our world. He doesn't need to. The enemy has taken care of that. If you watch what happens when bad things happen, though, most of the time, good comes out of it. That good is God moving.
I have more to say on the matter, but first I need to do some research. It may be a while, or it may be tomorrow. But I will be back with more on this topic.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Rules: 250 words, 10 minutes, yada yada yada. :)
I understand that you're just trying to 'do your job' by digging holes. It's what you do. I don't all of the holes in the area around my home, outside of the fenced in area. What I mind, is when you decide to dig under my fence and dig caverns in my (what used to be) freshly sodded backyard.
I'm also a little bit concerned about the high number of holes in the hill under my sidewalk. I'm a bit afraid that one of these days, Little Monster and Faith are going to be racing their tricycles on that sidewalk when, suddenly, there will be a mild tremor, causing the entire sidewalk to collapse in on itself.
I wouldn't worry about that as much if we lived in, well, pretty much anywhere else but directly on top of the San Andreas Fault. But, being as we do live near the San Andreas Fault, those tremors, they're bound to happen. I'm not worried about the giant earthquake that's going to send the state of California sinking into the ocean. We'll all be dead anyway -- you included. Have you ever stopped to think about that? I mean, COME ON! You could be creating a new fault line in my backyard with the number of holes you're digging.
I do appreciate that you contracted the dogs to help you dig a swimming pool for me. Next time, though, you should consider the weather. We've had about 3 days of 'swimming' weather here. While the rest of the country is being par-boiled alive, we're sitting at 55 degrees. So, just for your future reference, we do not need a swimming pool.
If you do not cease and desist this obssessive hole digging within the confines of my fence, I will be forced to take extreme action. I have tried warning you with that annoying sonic rodent blaster. You have not heeded the warning, though. My next option is to contact my lawyer about the ramifications of decapitating you with the mattox I bought to remove bush roots from our Virginia Home. (Do you see that, I said "LAWYER," In polite mid-western speak, that means I MEAN WHAT I AM SAYING AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO GET THE LAW INVOLVED.") Gophers, you are trespassing and stealing my soil and grass. For that, I can have your head. And I just might. If I can catch you.
Monday, August 04, 2008
You can just barely see the tips of the buildings through the glare of the windshield behind those other buildings. You can, however, see the winds that caused the problems during the show.
I love it when I stumble upon a documentary about something that I've actually seen in real life.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
- Little Monster has decided to poop every day at nap time. When he should be sleeping. This leads to yelling "HEY! HEY! MAMA! DAADDDYY!! Which I promptly ignore for about 30 minutes, hoping he'll go to sleep. After about 45 minutes, I go check on him, which usually involves opening the bedroom door, being bombarded with a stench that I'm certain the people in San Fransisco can smell causing them to hide the sourdough starter for fear that their bread will suddenly taste of toddler poos. The lack of nap time makes evenings, well, interesting to say the least. He's moodier than I get when I'm PMSing. It's not fun.
- Not the Momma has been studying his butt off. He has a professor who is "homework heavy," and that is being kind. He has class from about 10 am to 3pm, but leaves around 7 most mornings and gets home at 5 most evenings so that he can study and get his homework done at school.
- I have been busy working on stuff for my bible study group, PWOC. That link goes to the site that I set up for them. I'm having issues about whether to re-vitalize the Yahoo group they used to have.
- We have been spending a lot of time (Not the Momma would say "exhorbent," but I refuse to believe that is a word. I don't care if the press likes to use it to talk about high prices, etc.) outside playing with the neighbors. I think Little Monster has a little crush on one of their daughters. We'll call her Faith. I have enjoyed spending time with Faith's mom, Jo while the kids run around and play together. The sun has also been out for a few hours a day, and we have been soaking it up.
- Little Monster has learned how to ride his three-wheeler and when he sees it he yells BAI! BAI! (read: BIKE!) every time he sees it. I'm lucky to be able to go to the bathroom most days before he remembers that he has a bike to ride on over to Faith's house to see if she is out so that he can share his goldfish crackers and steal her tricycle and a juice box.
- I have actually been doing my job as a part of this family. I have been attempting to keep the house up, and do things like laundry, dishes, cooking, etc. You know, all that Mrs. Cleaver stuff. Only I'd bet Mrs. Cleaver's guest room doesn't look like ours. Guests -- you need to tell us about 3 months prior to arrival. That's how long it's going to take me to dig out your bed.
I've had tons of things to blog about, and have wanted to. For Example there was:
- the conversation Not the Momma and I had about the difference between googol and Google, and how funny it was that I was going to Google googol.
- the time that Jo drew an entire city with chalk in her driveway, and Faith went to the chalk park to pick chalk flowers for Little Monster
- and the time she picked actual real flowers to give to Little Monster.
- the hula-hoop contest in Jo's driveway where I actually managed to hula-hoop for quite some time before it fell to the ground.
- the Saturday where Not the Momma and I spent $100 to see a movie. The movie was awesome. It was a great movie. Heck, they could have made that movie into two movies that I'd have gone to see, but $100 was a little much.
- the anxiety I felt during the aforementioned movie, because it was just so packed full of action.
- the fact that I believe it may be possible to call an end to Caddyshack 2008, because the gophers, may have gone away. I blame it on the time I tried to kill one with a shovel, but he got away just in time. I think he was embarrassed for me because I was wielding that shovel above my head like a crazed lunatic running around my yard while Jo and Noel took all of the neighborhood children away so they wouldn't see me go all Freddy Kruger on a gopher.
- the time when we went to Best Buy to purchase a Blu-Ray player, and walked out with a cheaper Blu-Ray player... and a much larger flat screen TV than the one we already had. And now, the big flat screen that was in our living room is now in our bedroom, so that I can, in fact, have my favorite newscaster in bed with me every night.
- Little Monster's new infatuation with the movie "Cars," and how big he's getting. The child has become even more of a little person these days. He speaks and expects us to listen, he understands and follows most of our directions -- when he wants to.
I guess there's no excuse for not blogging more. I'm sorry. You all still love me, right? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Hopefully it works the same way for your reader!
But it's dinner time. I'll be back with more later.
Just wanted to let you know, I still care. :)