Note to Self : Blog More

You would not believe it.
Since my last post there has been a house fire, a tornado, a giant three eyed monster attack, malaria outbreak, computer crash, skydiving adventure and a loss of twenty pounds.
Not really.
But I tried to give you a good excuse for not blogging more. Weren't you wondering at least a little?

Actually I have been struggling to keep an interest in my school work, dragging myself onto the treadmill, forcing my children to gag down cough syrup every four hours, playing Instant Messaging Tag with my husband, mindlessly rooting around on My Space and sleeping.
I did clean out the car this week though. Vacuuming and everything! I have also made it to all of my Bible studies... though none of the actual church services.
I love my kids, but good grief they are annoying when they're sick!! Lily isn't so bad, she just mopes around and watches T.V. Occasionally she requests water or a sandwich.

Caleb, on the other hand...
He walks around the house whining about absolutely anything that enters his mind, from taking medicine to Sponge Bob not being on. He demands water, juice, a jelly sandwich, take out chicken strips and soup, all of which is flippantly rejected upon delivery. He throws a fit when I try to get him to blow his nose, complains about his clothes being dirty and wonders aloud why I am so terribly mean to him.

Excuse me??
Who shared her body, food and oxygen with you for ten months?
Who pushed your big old head through a seven inch hole?
Who hunted down countless pacifiers in the dark while you wailed?
Who changed those awful diapers whose consistency was a strange stage between solid and liquid?
Who rinses out your underwear when you have an accident?
Who doesn't even gag while cleaning up your puke?
Who lets you use HER computer?
Who answers all of your questions, no matter how unanswerable? ("Mom, how did God make shark teeth so sharp?")
Ah, but I get paid in big hugs. Not hourly, but often enough.

It's a sad day when you resort to paying your children to take their medicine.
They both have a dry-erase chart on which they place a check for each medicine taken. When all six squares are checked, they receive a quarter.
And here I thought this would be simple!

The Rules For The Chart:
1. A vitamin and a chewable pill count as ONE medicine.
2. Liquid medicines are counted separately, with a three count maximum.
3. There is a two quarter a day maximum.
4. Two dimes and one nickel equals a quarter.
5. Five nickels equals a quarter.
6. A handful of pennies equals a quarter.
7. Quarters from Nana's purse count as payment, even though they are technically Nana's.
8. Mom reserves the right to issue an IOU.
9. Once six quarters are earned, Mom is allowed to make change with her dollar bills.
10. Mom reserves the right to FREAKING TEAR UP THE CHARTS IF SHE WANTS TO.

Good grief.

My grandfather told me the other day he was talking to someone in Missouri or Minnesota or Timbukktu who reads my blog. YAY!! Thank you!! Spread the word!!

Muscle on the Brain

Ah, the joys of having a gullible husband.
You may already know how James is prone to over stressing about some things, like a door being locked or executing a birthday party according to schedule, minute by minute. There are several quirks that amuse and irritate me, but for the most part I just ignore them.
Unless it starts to cost us money.
Specifically, money on items that I believe aren't necessary.
Like, say.... body building supplements.
James has found a great way to keep himself occupied in Iraq, because apparently not much is going on over there. (If there was, I wouldn't know about it anyway.) He has started to lift weights two hours a day. Every day. Like, EVERY DAY. His roommate is into body building supplements and made the mistake of showing them to James and explaining what they do. Then BAM! Here comes our credit card statement.

"Um... so, what is Atro-Phex?"
"It's this stuff that helps you feel better and uncover your abs."
"Feel better? Oh, like when it says 'Atro-Phex has simply incredible effects on mood, overall appetite suppression, ... energy... and cognitive performance'?"
"Yeah."
"So... you're taking legal methamphetamine?"
"What? No!"
"Uh, yeah you are...."
"Whatever."
"Okay, what is CellMass?"
"It increases the mass of your cells."
"Oh my gosh."
"You asked!"
"Okay. What is Nitrix?"
"That one enhances your size."
"Your size?"
"Yeah."
"Like the size of your..."
"No, the size of my muscles. Pervert."
"It IS a muscle, HELLO."
"Not that kind of muscle."
"Right... so what does NO-Xplode do? Exactly what it says since you're taking all this stuff? WAIT... is it an anti-diarrheal?"
"No. It intensifies your workout."
"Do what?"
"It helps your focus on your workout and keep you clear headed."
"Moving a weight up and down sure seems complicated..."
"Well it helps keep your mind on the workout."
"Instead of your mind wandering into the desert or something?"
"I guess so."

So basically we spent $175 on protein, whey, speed, and caffeine. Those muscles sure look nice though!!

They Call This Wise?

If you are even remotely familiar with the military and it's procedures/policies, you will know that they require every adult over the age of 18 affiliated thereof to have their wisdom teeth removed if they will be stationed abroad. Why? I have no idea. They say it's to avoid complications later on down the road. I think they just like to make us do it.

Guess who is affiliated with the military?
Guess who may be living abroad within the next year or so?
Guess who is less than six months from the "cut off" age for removing wisdom teeth because the jaw tends to not grow back properly?
Guess who got really bored last Monday and said screw it, let's get this over with?
That would be me.

So I meander over to the teeth ripper outer dude and he discovers that I have an extra wisdom tooth hiding around on the upper left side. I knew I had two, I was just confident that they were the only ones I had. X-rays have come a long way. Apparently my regular dentist doesn't use those new-finagled contraptions. GREAT.

The next week I come in, mother-in-law in tow, for what I figure would be a gruesome, bloody tug-of-war with an elderly dentist. I have so many great things going on now-a-days. I sit back and he starts an IV and pretty soon I'm watching some green blob on the ceiling morphing into different shapes. Maybe it was the nurse. Who knows.

The next thing I remember I am being escorted to the car and driven home. Actually, I was such a trooper we stopped by Wal-Mart before heading home. I can't remember what I bought. Something unnecessary, I'm sure.

Then the pain started to kick in. It wasn't too bad until the ginormous ibuprofen stopped effectively paralyzing my jaw. Then I had to move on to Vicodin (poor me). Only for two days though (sigh). I managed to pry my mouth open to look at the crater on the bottom and was surprised to see actual jaw bone growing together. Cool!!

I brought the teeth home to show the kids. They looked like Pops cereal pieces. Seriously. Those suckers were huge, with tree roots! The kids liked them, though they were disappointed upon the realization that they couldn't take them to school to show their friends. ("But MOM. I will keep them a SECRET. PROMISE.") Now I have to decide what to do with them. Keep them for DNA extraction just in case? Sell them to a voodoo shop? Make a necklace?
I guess they'll just sit on my dresser for now. I just can't bring myself to throw them away.

Oh, one last little bit:
Guess which military couple decided to request stateside instead of overseas assignments, thus rendering the whole surgery utterly without purpose?
That would be us.

Weekly Weigh-In 4

Ugh. Getting back into the routine of things after having three teeth yanked out and skipping a week of exercise is easier said than done. On the upside, I lost one pound. On the downside, after the pain abated I regained that pound and one more. Listen to me mourn over two pounds! Psh!!

Weigh-In: 221

Lost: 9

To Go: 41

New Baby!! 2

My new nephew
KASHDON MYKEL IS HERE!!

February 9th, 2009
7 pounds, 7 ounces

Weekly Weigh In 3

Not much to say about this grueling week!!

Weigh In: 220
Lost: 10
To Go: 40

Weekly Weigh In 2

So these last couple of days I have been slacking off a little. Okay, a lot. The Superbowl party tonight didn't help, either.
Anyone know of a reliable scale out there?
My scale says 230.
Granny's says 224.
Mom's says 223.
I'm gonna go with.... Mom's.

Lost: 7
To Go: 43

Diary of a Mad White Woman

Today I went to the child support office and officially forgave three thousand some odd dollars, AGAIN. Apparently the first time wasn't good enough for them. So we signed court orders declaring this and forgiving that and then we were left alone while she went to make copies of said orders. THE LONGEST 94 SECONDS OF MY LIFE. While nothing was said, I could tell there were a lot of unspoken words in the air. Maybe they were all from me. Probably. There were some unspoken un-words there too, like f*$#%ng $&*t and d@$& !*s. When it was over and done, I heard a meek "thanks" as I was leaving. I said he was welcome. Getting in the car I found myself utterly PISSED OFF. Why? I don't know. I really don't. I have no regrets about the decisions I've made concerning him and Lily. BUT.... through prayer and time alone with God, I think I got it all out of me. The candy bar helped too. Godspeed, Bio.

My History Assignment

There are two events in my past that permanently changed who I turned out to be today. The first occurred on November 3^rd, 2001 at 10:13 a.m. That was the day my daughter was born. Without much ado the doctor handed a squalling, pink ball of human to me, a seventeen year old senior in high school without a clue. I looked down at her with amazement and fear, wondering where to go from there. We went home three days later and thus began my transformation into the person we call mother.

I didn’t know much about babies except how they were made (a little too late for that one) and that they made a lot of noise and stink. The first two weeks were filled with round-the-clock feedings dispensed with tiny three ounce bottles, unexpected projectile vomiting, a million foul diaper changes and little sleep. What sleep we did get was often interrupted when the baby swing needed to be cranked up again, which she delightfully announced with shrill cries. I soon learned that I could rock the swing with my foot while asleep. I also learned to recognize the small noises indicating an impending eruption and that a diaper bag must be taken everywhere, every time. I developed the keen ability to use the bathroom one handed and bathing her without half drowning the poor child. People underestimate the value of a spouse. As I didn’t have one I was doing it all alone, what we call being a single mother.

I went back to school three weeks after she was born. I was now a single student mother, riding the bus with my infant daughter and doing homework while burping her. Science is a lot more fun that way, if you ask me. Not long after, I was instructed by my father to get a job. I was now a working, single, student mother. When I started working as a cashier at the local grocery store I had to hire a babysitter, making me a poor, single, working student mother. When she was seven months old I graduated high school and moved out of my father’s house. I became, you guessed it, a poor, single, working, paying-the-bills mother. But I loved it.

My daughter and I were a team. She would giggle and brighten my day, and I would provide her basic needs. She accompanied me to pick up my paycheck every Tuesday and delighted in riding the conveyor belt. She rarely got sick, ate anything I offered her, and made everyone around her smile. I loved being a mother.

The second event occurred on June 12, 2004 at 3:17 p.m. That was the day my son was born. By then I was a happily married, not working, twenty year old mother. Of two! Again without much ado the doctor handed me a squirming, angry ball of human. But this time I was more prepared for the demands of an infant… or so I thought.

Whereas my daughter ate anything given to her, my son refused every formula and nipple. Changing my daughter was uneventful, but changing my son was a duck-and-switch challenge. Sleeping through the night came relatively easy for my daughter. My son screamed for six months of nights. My daughter delighted in every new person she met; my son only liked three people and loudly proclaimed his dissent among others. What was going on? Why was this so difficult? Did I do something wrong?

Then one day as I was changing his outfit my son giggled. I laughed, he giggled. We carried on. From then on out I accepted his differences with composure and learned to enjoy them. Sure he had to have that pacifier all day, but he looked so cute when he spit it out to concentrate on something that tickled his fancy. Of course he didn’t like most food, but watching him stuff his mouth with something he did like was amusing. I found myself enjoying duo-motherhood.

I chose these events because my world revolves around my children, day in and day out. I would feel lost and incomplete without them. They make me the neurotic, frazzled, muddled mess that I am, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. They make me…me.

In My Opinion....

• .... if someone closes a child support case against you, you should be GRATEFUL and say THANK YOU!
  
  
• .... if you offer soldiers a way to put part of their paychecks into a savings account that earns 10%, you shouldn't make it so complicated that they can't take advantage of it!
  
  
• .... if all of the modem lights are green and your computer says it's connected to the Internet, but you still can't check your email or log onto Messenger to talk to your deployed husband, Verizon shouldn't expect a very happy customer!
  
  
• .... if you make and drink all of the Folgers in the house, you should buy another canister!
  
  
• .... if the economy is in the gutter, don't hold out on passing legislation for no good reason!
  
  
• .... if you use the toilet, FLUSH IT!!
  
  
• .... if your four year old boy has turned up the volume on the t.v. and closed the door to his bedroom, don't expect a happy ending!
  
  
• .... if America elects a black president GET OVER IT!!
  
  
• .... if you delete me from your Myspace and expect me to be insulted, you will be sorely disappointed!

Ghost Town

There's a restaurant in town that has gone by many names but has kept one feature: a ghost, supposedly. One named Norton. The restaurant is currently an Italian venue (much to my diet's dismay) and last night we were dining (gorging) there when Caleb mentioned Norton.
"Mom, where does Norton live?"
"Norton is not real."
"Yes he is my principal told me about him!"
"Okay."
Lily: "Caleb! Did you hear that?"
"What?"
"A scary noise!"
"What noise?"
"Like wooooo!!"
"Oh! I hear it! I hear it!"
--silence--
Caleb: "I heard it! I heard it that time!"
Lily: "Mom! Where IS he?"
"He lives upstairs."
"I thought you said he wasn't real!"
"Then why did you ask?"
"Can we go up there?"
"NO."
"Why not?"
"Because there's no stairs."
"Yeah there are, right there in the ceiling!"
"What?"
"That square in the ceiling, that's where they pull the stairs down and go up there and see Norton!!"
"Okay."
"So can we go?"
"No."
"Hey Caleb I know! We can go up there tonight!"
"Yeah!"
"Mom can take us!"
Mom: "No she can't."
Caleb: "We'll get Uncle Jason to go!"
"Yeah!"
"But won't the ghost know we are people?"
???
"Yeah... I know! We can wear our Halloween costumes!"
"Yeah! Then the ghost won't see us being people he will see us being monsters and come out to meet us!!"
"Yeah!!"
"But what if he sees our shoes and thinks we're not monsters?"
--thinking--
"We can just wear socks!!"
"Yeah!!"
"Good grief..."

Weekly Weigh In

So my friend Melissa and I decided we needed more motivation to lose weight, so we came up with a bet: the first to lose 50 pounds in six months wins $200 from the other person. So far, so good. It goes without saying that I am highly dependent upon the Lord for guidance, persistence, and to hide the cookies. Seriously. If God hides them, there's no way I could find them, right? So besides killing myself for 20 minutes almost every day on the treadmill, I've cut my portions down drastically and suffered as I watch my kids eat Hershey's. On the treadmill I imagine I'm walking to Iraq. Sometimes it helps. Most of the time I try to keep from looking at the timer every six seconds. I am impatient, especially when I can't breathe.

Weekly Weigh In: 224
Lost: 6
To Go: 44

Things That Have Been Bothering Me Lately

Why do women have to be pregnant for so long?
Who the heck invented CHERRY Pepto-Bismol? Seriously!!
What the heck does BINOMIAL mean? BINOMEANS you will understand Algebra, that's my guess.
What about RADICAL? It's RADICAL that you think you can do this after not being in a classroom for nine years!!
And how about LINEAR EQUATION? I can't even think of something witty for that one!
Why does mail take so long to get to Iraq?
Who invented the TI 83 and why did they think a calculator needed three functions for EACH BUTTON? Easy to use, psh.
Is it really necessary to sweat when you exercise? Really? Isn't there a better way?
Just because Albert Einstein could work these problems doesn't mean everyone can.
If you can't tell, I've been having a little trouble with College Algebra lately. I haven't been to a math class in nearly NINE YEARS because the last two years of high school I wasn't required to take a math course. That's Paint Rock for you. How did I manage to graduate? Anyway, the first assignment in Algebra is chapter one, which is a "refresher" chapter intended to wake up your mind in preparation for what follows. We were given two days to complete this 100 page chapter, and I don't even recognize this crap. Given the instructor won't even review this chapter before moving on to bigger and harder things inclines me to DROP THIS COURSE and enroll in a remedial one. GO ME.

Another Baby!!!

So my new nephew Kashdon Mykel is still baking in the oven over in Italy and he needs to HURRY UP and be done! C'mon, he's at least medium well. I like my babies a little rosy-cheeked. Just kidding. Date of approximate eviction: February 17th.

Wars of the Weight

This is what happens when you start a diet.
Warfare. Several types.

• The War of Food is pretty self explanatory. You battle with cakes, cookies, sodas, chips, bread, butter, ice cream, cereals, you name it. Your only allies are carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, tomatoes, cucumbers, oranges, berries, apples, and grapes. Oh, and your allies are very fickle. "But I'm only a measly stalk of broccoli! I can't POSSIBLY satisfy you like a cupcake can! Don't ask me to do it, PLEASE, I have shoots and leaves at home!!"
  
  
• The War of Exercise is equally explanatory. As soon as you make the decision to work out, your body suddenly moves slower than my sister getting ready to go to work. S-L-O-W. Suddenly your legs can't support your weight to get off the couch, and your hand has died gripping the remote. Your fingers can't tie your walking shoes and you suddenly have to go to the bathroom. Your body cries out, "PLEASE! Don't make me get on that treadmill! It's a DEATH SENTENCE! I have no chance! I have no backup! These fat cells are utterly USELESS!!"
  
  
• The War of Self-Control is my biggie. It has several allies behind enemy lines that sneak up and attack, usually around midnight:
  -BING!!-
  I want a cookie!!
  Get me a cookie get me one right now, gimme gimme gimme!!
  Hello, I said NOW?!!!
  What do you mean, NO??
  I can have whatever I want!!
  
  
• The War of Lies usually follows next:
  "One cookie won't hurt. Shoot, TWELVE cookies wouldn't move the scale!"
  "Come on, you KNOW you're gonna work out tomorrow."
  "Just one TEENSY little cookie...."
  
  
• Then you have the War of Self-Denial:
  "I didn't eat that cookie. Nope. Wasn't me. Do you see crumbs anywhere? An empty package? I didn't think so. What about my teeth? They're ALWAYS Oreo cookie black. Don't believe me, I don't care. Whatever!!"
  
  
• Last but not least, the infamous War of the Church Clothes:
  "Soldier!! Get me one set of attire suitable for public outings!"
  "Here ma'am, from Old Navy!"
  "Psh! I can't button this over my boobs! Get me another!"
  "Here's a better one!"
  "You know amazing thrift store finds never work!! Hop to it Private!!"
  "Here we go ma'am, perfect! Target never fails us!!"
  "It may never fail you but look at me! No, don't look at me!! Get me another outfit, and it better be right!!"
  "Okay, okay, here we go.... one from J.C. Penny!"
  "You are an utter disgrace. Do you see what we are up against? Look at them, look!! One more chance, Private!!"
  "This is the last one, ma'am. Old faithful, from Wal-Mart."
  "Now you're talking, soldier! Bring it here, and clean up this mess of REJECTS!!"
  

Beer Can Chicken: A Story From Grandpa

While sittin' here on the porch I've been hearin' a lot about this stuff called “beer can chicken.” Best I can figure a person takes a chicken and sticks a half a can of beer up its ass and precedes to put this thing on a charcoal grill to cook. And that ain't all, they stand the thing upright like it was a king or something. Now anybody knows any self-respecting chicken ain't gonna feel right sittin' on its ass on a beer can in a BBQ grill. It just don't seem natural. And besides that, I can see no reason to waste a half a can of beer by stickin' the thing up a dead chicken's ass. BEEER IS FOR DRINKIN', NOT FOR STICKIN' IT UP A DEAD CHICKEN'S ASS. And that ain't all. Charcoal ain't for cookin' chicken, it's for filtering whiskey. If enough people keep burning the charcoal then what the hell are we gonna filter the whiskey with? Whiskey is more important than chicken anyway. And besides that, any good cooker would get insulted with charcoal in it and a chicken with a beer can stuck up its ass sittin' there like the Pope or something.
In conclusion, we here at the Round Table on the front porch figure if you want good chicken you simply build a good old smokey fire in your cooker and gently lay the chicken in there on its back. Then you go drink a cold beer. When it gets done, my faithful dog LD will let you know. Oh, and the beans must be cooked on the stove. It's real hard to keep them from fallin' through the grill on the BBQ.

The Biggies

The way I see it, there are seven major questions a child can ask a parent (so far).

1. Where do babies come from?
2. What is sex? (and all related questions including anatomy)
3. Who is God and why are your beliefs about Him true?
4. What happens when you die?
5. Why do you have to discipline me?
6. Why are drugs, smoking and drinking bad for me?
7. What does it mean to be gay or lesbian?
   

Babies and Birth and Aunts, Oh My!!

I fear that the subject of conversation that I have been dreading between my daughter and I may be approaching. Deep breath.
Caleb recently asked one of the Biggies: "Mom, where do babies come from?"
*groan*
"Babies come from God."
"Oh. How does God get them there?"
"When the time is right for two people to have a baby He gives them one."
"How does the baby get in the mommy's tummy?"
"God puts it there."
Lily: "But how?"
"God puts it there."
"But HOW?"
"He just does."
"But Mom, HOW does He get it in there?"
"God is God and He can do anything. It's easy for him."
"Really?"
"Yeah."

*silence*

"How does the baby come out?"
Caleb: "The doctor cuts open your stomach and pulls it out!"
"Really Mom?"
"Sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
*crap*
"Yeah."
"What do they do the other times?"
"There's another way but we'll talk about it when you get older."
"Okay."
*whew!*

Today we traveled to Lily's paternal aunt's house and of course, like any other five minute or longer car ride, they start asking questions. Why they wait until we're in the car I have no idea.
"Mom, where are we going?"
"To Aunt Melissa's house."
"Where?"
"To Aunt Melissa's."
"AUNT Melissa?"
"Yeah."
"AUNT?"
"Uh... yeah."
"Like an aunt like Taryn?"
*groan*
"Um, kind of. Yeah."
"Oh. Okay."

While we were at Mimi's I also had the pleasure of trying to explain how Adam and Eve were made out of dust, but we are not. I also attempted to explain how the devil came to be, why God killed all the dinosaurs with a big asteroid, was it an asteroid or a volcano, were some dinosaurs nice, what heaven will be like and where the Bible came from. I still would rather tackle those questions than the approaching one, though.

Christmas 2008

It's that time of year again.
Christmas.
Not much bah humbug-ing this year. Just when excessive Christmas music was playing. Grr.
Christmases during deployments are always a little sad, but it helps to remember this is God's plan for us and we should be thankful for the blessings He has given us. So without further ado, here's the rundown of presents we received.

• Girl Gourmet Cupcake Maker: I have been wanting to try this out since we bought it on Black Friday. The commercial claims you can actually bake a cupcake, in the microwave, in 30 seconds. NO WAY. Then you frost it with this handy frosting thing that twirls so the frosted cupcake looks all twirly and stuff. So we get it out and set it up. I mix the cupcake batter and put it into the cooker thing. AND IT WORKED!! It was actually baked! Which makes me wonder what they put in there to accomplish that...on to the frosting. I mix it up and fill the tube with this Pepto-Bismol pink gunk. Then the tip falls off and I now have this crap in my lap. Eewww. So we try again and get the frosting on there but it came out of the tube too fast so it kinda just looks like a tropical bird crapped on the cupcake.
  
  
• Easy Bake Oven: We haven't tried this one yet, but I can't wait!!
  
  
• Pixos: This is another one of those wonder-how-it-works toys. Apparently you use the special pen to place plastic balls on a tray in a design. Then you spray it with water and it stays forever. So we follow the instructions and spray away. It's been seven hours and the designs are gummy and partially stuck together. I don't think this one will be around long.
  
  
• Operation, Connect Four, Sorry! Sliders, and Rhino Rampage.
  
  
• Nerf Powerball Blaster: My favorite. You pump it up to get it to the maximum blasting power and fire foam balls at whoever happens to be passing by. It also makes this weird screaming noise when you pump it that gets louder the more you do it.
  
  
• Diego Triceratops Mountain Thing: This one is going back to Wal-Mart because it's missing a piece.
  
  
• Play Doh: I never learn my lesson.
  
  
• 100 Building Blocks: Ditto here.
  
  
• Fire Truck, G.I. Joe, telescope, binoculars, candy, candy and more candy.
  
  
• A forty billion piece jewelry making set.
  
  
• A dinosaur race track. Who thinks up of this stuff?
  

Now for what I got.

• Honey with Tangerine from Italy!!
  
  
• A purse from Italy!!
  
  
• Chocolate from Italy!! By the way, Italian chocolate has about ten times more fat than American chocolate.
  
  
• Stress relieving body wash, a scarf and fuzzy socks.
  
  
• Two cool T-shirts.
  
  
• A neat picture frame that says "Life... makes the best story" on it.
  
  
• Home made candy.
  

All in all not a bad turnout, present wise and family gathering wise. If I eat any more saturated fat I think I will seriously blow an artery.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE ! ! !

How To Wrap Christmas Presents

Square Present

1. Pick the present that you would like to wrap and appropriate wrapping paper.
   
2. Roll out four feet of paper, place present towards the bottom.
   
3. Measure paper to make sure it will still cover the present after you have cut off the access.
4. Measure twice, cut once.
5. Screwed up anyway, decide to still use the now too short piece of paper.
6. Bring two sides of paper together over gift, ignoring for now the gap between paper.
7. Look for tape.
8. Leave table to find tape.
9. Find tape, return to table.
10. Repeat step 6.
11. Tape paper to present.
12. Turn sideways and contemplate how to fold paper to cover the end and still look decent.
13. Make creases at corners, fold down three times and hold with both hands while you get tape with teeth. Or feet.
14. Wrangle tape onto paper.
    
15. Rip off tape, repeat steps 13-14.
16. Repeat on opposite side of present.
17. Cut a strip of paper from the access to cover gap on present.
18. Place with tape. Hint: If you make sure the design on the paper matches up with the strip, they'll never know!
19. Chase down kids to bring bows back to the table. Affix accordingly.
20. Forget what the present was, tear a small hole at the corner of present and try to decipher contents.
21. Place additional bow over hole in paper.
22. Affix name tag.

Cylindrical Present

1. Follow steps one through four from above.
2. On sides, cut out a square from the paper to make folding down easier.
3. Realize you may have actually need what you just cut off.
4. Roll ends to present and tape.
5. Decide that looks like crap and undo tape.
6. Origami your way to a decent looking fixture and cover mess with a bow, on both sides if need be.
7. Alternative: Roll present up like a burrito and circle tape around present lengthwise.
   
8. Affix name tape.

Round Present

1. Follow step one from above.
2. Tape one end of paper to the object.
3. Roll object across table, taping as the paper naturally comes together. May require several pieces of tape.
4. Affix bows as needed.
5. Don't forget the name tape.

Triangular/Pentagonal/Rhombus Presents

1. Crap, I don't know.

FINAL STEP: Sheepishly sneak presents under tree. Try not to be seen.

Thanksgiving 2008

So like, blogging is a lot harder than you think.
Just thought I would throw that out there.
But I still like doing it.
Anyway.
Thanksgiving 2008 was really cool. Let's see if I can remember everything that happened. The first gathering we attended, we went to my uncle's for a feast where we visited with many relatives. The kids also built a tee pee. It was very nice! We had all of the usual eats and then some. Our second gathering was at my aunt's place where we had killer BBQ and home made desserts. Yum! Grandpa also told more "on the farm" stories. He cracks me up. Oh, and I also saw a dead body on the side of the road. No joke. Apparently she was hit in the middle of the night by some dude "reaching for his spit cup" and we happened to pass just as the police were showing up. That was freaky. Other than that the holidays were pretty normal for this family.

My Name Is Talia

This is the blog I submitted to So, How Was Your Day?
-----

Some would say I am living the American dream. I'm a stay at home mom married to a wonderful husband with a beautiful daughter and adorable son. We make decent money, get along with each other's parent's, and have a cat named Phoebe.
I wake up at 6:55 a.m. and dread the chill of winter that creeps into the house. The kids wake up soon after, and I hustle them into clothes and infront of cereal. My coffee is brewing and I silently say good morning to my husband.
He's not here, you see.
He is in Iraq.
We are a military family.
Nothing like you see on television, thank the Lord.
We're just a normal, everyday family with a long distance father.
The kids are off to school and I drive to the post office. I'm mailing a package to my soldier. The clerk's face immediatly changes as soon as she sees the "APO,AE" on the mailing label. "Oh my goodness, how do you stand him being over there? Aren't you scared? Bless your heart!" I smile and take my change.
I don't want your pity.
I am no different than the thousands of other women who had to say goodbye to their husbands.
We chose this lifestyle, he and I.
He chose to defend our country and I chose to support him.
My online classes have closed for the semester, so my day is free. I visit the library, Wal-Mart and grocery store. Online Christmas shopping is cut short when the kids come stomping in the door, demanding a snack.
Cleaning, feeding, homework, bathing, pajamas, story time. The lights are off and my day has ended.
The nights are a little colder without my soldier beside me. Discipline in the house is a little less effective without my soldier. Dinner is filled with kid-friendly food without my soldier.
But somewhere my soldier is making a difference.
I don't hope for his return. I eagerly anticipate it.
I am not remarkable.
I am not even special.
I am just doing what millions have done since America became a country.
Loving my soldier.

Final Grades

BCIS: A

Psychology: A

English I: B

Government: A

**does victory dance**

One Step Forward

For the past few months I have been trying to think of the most humorous way to kill myself.

(Figuratively.)

Then it hit me as I was walking through Wal-Mart (doesn't it always?): a treadmill.

Oh, what we will spend on the pursuit of health.

$277.85 plus tax to be exact.

So we get it in the house and set it up and I can't even try it out because of my kids.

"But MOM, we learned about exercise today in school and you're SUPPOSED to DO IT!"

Ugh.

So I made the "sacrifice" and let them exercise first.

They loved it.

Now I have to mediate between the two not only who gets to watch their television show first, who gets on the computer first, and who gets to freaking fart first, but also who gets to run on the treadmill first.

But today I actually got on it.

Let me be the first to say that walking on a treadmill is NOTHING like walking on concrete.

But it's also not like walking on those conveyor belts at the airport either. (Whew. Those things are a DOOZY, especially when you're running on them. Even walking on them I have to keep my eyes on my feet and watch for the end of the belt, but even then it sneaks up on you and you're the only idiot tripping off the thing and trying to play it off as something you MEANT to do.)

So I turn it on and reduce the speed to 2 m.p.h. (don't want to overdo it) and start to walk.

Rather, I start to do something akin to walking but not quite.

I call it the Frankenstein stomp.

You know when you're drunk off yourself and to successfully walk to the bathroom you have to look at your feet and WILL them to move, only your legs are suddenly ten times heavier than they physically should be and you wind up jerking your foot up and stomping it back down, only going forward a few inches?

I did that for seven minutes and only burned 38 calories.

Stupid machine.

If I'm huffing and puffing and sweating and cursing I am pretty sure I've burned more than 38 calories.

I finally got to where I was more walking than cautiously stumbling and did so for fifteen minutes, or 0.5 miles.

Yay.

I'm on my way.

Britney Spears, eat your heart out.

If I don't kill myself first.

Ugh.

Paging Dr. Seuss... Please Come Get Your Minions

Living with two 7 month old kittens is akin to living with Thing One and Thing Two.

Stay with me here.

They sleep all day and when ten p.m. rolls around, it's like someone went and smashed Pandora's Box. All of Hades breaks loose.

There is racing, running, meowing, growling, claws, kicking, biting, and other fur-flying madness.

I wouldn't mind except... they involve anything or anyone they happen to roll by.

Including humans.

Mostly me.

I don't like two cats razing my room, knocking crap over while I'm trying to sleep.

But as soon as the sun starts to peek over the horizon... the Things curl up all nice and cute like on the couch and fall asleep.

I LOVE walking by and harassing them, just to keep them on their toes.

Oh, and note to Things: When I whip my bra around to put it on is NOT the opportune time to attack.

I hope your tail grows back soon.

Black Friday

It's been a while since I posted last! Wow! I've been busy being... in a funk. A funk of laziness, wow-it-just-hit-me-that-my-husband-is-away, and Christmas.

Good old Christmas.

But that's another post for another day!

Black Friday was a couple of weeks ago, and my MIL and I decided to brave the weather and see what kind of deals we could get. The Wal-Mart here opened at 5 a.m., so at 4:30 we crawled out of bed. ALMOST decided not to go. ALMOST decided not to stay when we saw the line! In true shopaholic trait, we stood in the icy wind for twenty harsh minutes to buy....

1. a new printer for $29.

2. four sets of pajamas for the kids for $4 each. (I tried explaining to my MIL that there was a reason blankets were invented, so we wouldn't have the need to spend money on THIRTEEN MATCHING PAJAMA OUTFITS.

3. toys. Just a few really good deals, like the Pixos for $10 and the Cupcake maker for $15.

4. a roaster for $7.

5. two 30 piece food storage containers for $7 each.

I felt sorry for those people who elbowed their way for one of the two digital cameras, flat screen t.v.'s or laptops. Sigh. Some people are just die-hard fans.

Then we went by and got donuts, went home and fell asleep. Whew.

Analysis Of A Debate 5

GUESS WHO GOT A 98 ON HER BIG BAD 3000 WORD GOVERNMENT ASSIGNMENT???

GUESS WHO GOT A 98 ON HER BIG BAD 3000 WORD GOVERNMENT ASSIGNMENT???

ME!!!!

WOO HOOOOO!!!!

Operation: Communication

I'm pretty sure I have commented before on my husband's neurotic obsession that terrorists are tapped into all of the B. family's phone lines and that he MUST NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, RELEASE ANY INFORMATION THAT MAY IN ANY INDIRECT ROUTE REVEAL ANYTHING ABOUT THE MILITARY, ITS OPERATIONS, TRAINING SITES, TRAINING ACTIVITIES OR WHERE THEY USE THE BATHROOM. It used to really irritate me, but now I have fun with it.

"So, uh, I was just calling to let you know that I made it."

"Made what?"

"I made it."

"Made WHAT?"

"I, you know, GOT HERE."

"You left?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"A little while ago."

"Like 30 minutes? Three days?"

"Something like that."

"So where are you?"

"You know."

"I forgot."

"You KNOW."

"Oh, you mean in Oklabraska or Ohifornia?"

"I only have 20 minutes on this phone card."

"What phone card? Did you buy it?"

"No. They gave it to me."

"Who?"

"THEY did."

"Who is THEY?"

"Are the kids there?"

"No. They left."

"Oh. Did my Dad take them somewhere?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Nope."

"Are they outside?"

"They're... you know..."

"What?"

"YOU KNOW. That's where they are."

"Um.... at school?"

"Something like that."

"Well, I gotta go."

"Go where?"

"GO."

"WHERE?"

"I love you. Talk to you later."

"Where are you going?"

"Bye."

"WHERE ARE YOU? I haven't seen you in four months!! Did the government kidnap you for some secret mission?"

--click--

Other conversations have gone something like this:

"So, what are y'all doing in training?"

"Oh you know, stuff."

"Stuff? Wow, that sounds awesome! Do you have fun doing stuff? Man, I wish I could do stuff."

"You know, like military stuff."

"Oh, MILITARY stuff? That's even better! You have the life, doing stuff, and stuff doing stuff. Just imagine, me and my friends doing... stuff!!"

Or this:

"I was just calling to let you know I may not be able to call you for a while."

"I really? Why is that?"

"Well, you know."

"Um, actually I don't because you always talk in acronyms and code."

"You know, I'm... going... somewhere?"

"Where are you going?"

"I told you already."

"Um, not really you didn't."

"Yes I did."

"So when are you leaving."

"You know. Soon."

"Soon? Like today? Or tomorrow?"

"Something like that."

"Well, you-know-what me when you get you-know-where so I'll know that you arrived you-know-how."

"Um... okay."

Seriously. This is insane.

Georgia

So I went to Georgia for seven days to hang out with James before he left the country.

It was awesome!!

All six of my flights went well. The first lady I sat by was notably neurotic. She kept talking and would gasp every time the plane moved. She was the first one off the plane when we landed in Dallas.

From Dallas to Charlotte, NC I was graced with the presence of a car connoisseur who politely showed me the pricey cars he was planning to buy at auction soon. He also offered to buy me a drink. Literally. I love how plane seating is overly cramped and you feel strangely intimate trying to wrestle the armrest from your fellow seatmate. Luckily the guy on my other side slept through the whole trip. He did snore though.

Charlotte to Savannah was uneventful, I can't really remember who I sat beside. Maybe I was too busy swooning. I do remember several soldiers on the flight talking loudly about beer drinking and how "Palin is just too HOT to be VP, man!!"

The first thing I noticed is that Georgia has actual trees, like 80 foot freaking TREES that are not MESQUITE. I didn't know there were any other kind!!

So off I go to pick up the rental car, luggage and husband.

--------

We spent five days walking around historic Savannah, lounging in the hotel room, watching the results of the election, and eating massive amounts of fast food.

I wanted to eat at places not commonly found where we live, so the first evening we ate at a Mom and Pop seafood place. Blah.

The second day we went to a Krystal's, which is kind of like White Castle, only their meat was a grayish, chopped-and-reassembled square.

So we made up for it by going to Baskin Robbins, who didn't take credit cards and was paid mostly in dimes and nickels.

Red Lobster was up next, and I was a little apprehensive knowing the adorable lobsters int he tank would soon be steamed on my plate. But I ordered it anyway. And it was DISGUSTING. Rubbery and covered in spices not becoming to a lobster in any way. Barf.

I had always heard of Ruby Tuesday but had never tried one. So we did. The salad bar was AWESOME. It was fresh and had such a variety of stuff it was unreal. I'm talking four different lettuces, eight different dressings, croutons and sunflower seeds... everything! We ordered queso and chips for an appetizer and everything went downhill from there. The cheese sauce was nasty and not even cheese colored. My steak was eh, ok. The mashed potatoes had more butter than potato, and the mashed cauliflower was... gross. Even the dessert was unmemorable.

From then on out we stuck with sandwiches.

--------

Savannah was so beautiful. We walked down River Street and sampled the wares of the candy shops, which were delicious and expensive. We also were beseiged by panhandlers in every town square we happened to walk past. By the way, Savannah has 24 town squares, 22 of which are still in their original state. One of the others is being renovated and the last is now a parking lot. Wonderful.

We took a bus tour of the city which was great, we got to see many beautiful houses and churches that took up literally whole blocks. The roads were super narrow and almost all one-way. We also took the haunted house tour, which is another guided bus tour that shows you some haunted houses in the downtown area. I wanted to go in a house but that wasn't allowed.

Fuddy-duddies.

We took one house tour which was extremely BORING because the guide was 72 and had done the tour every day since she was, like, BORN and we weren't allowed to see the WHOLE house, just four rooms and a bathroom. Psh.

Then James and I fed pigeons outside yet another candy shop and called it a day.

--------

We said our goodbyes and boo hoos and thanks for letting me buy those new awesome combat boots and ultra shatter-resistant sunglasses and far out computer games and razor blades and I came home.

I didn't get to sit beside anyone too terribly interesting except the twelve year old who kept fidgeting and jabbing me with her elbow.

Other than the other passengers, I love to fly. I like the patchwork look of Texas and the green, just GREEN, of all the other states. My Dad got to fly during a rainshower once. I also like looking down at the clouds instead of up.

So, in summary, if you ever get a chance to got to Georgia, or any place without your kids for seven days, go!!

--------

Plane tickets to Georgia: $771.98

Luggage fee for airline: $30

One Diet Coke on flight: $2

Rental car for one week: $455.82

Gas: $40

Hotel rooms for one week: $432.67

New accessories for husband: $145.99

Food for one week: $151.77

Almost dying from inhalation when husband decides to Endust his laptop, figuring (quite incorrectly) that the vent in the bathroom would be enough to filter the noxious and proven-fatal fumes but still getting to spend five days with him before he goes overseas: PRICELESS.

Kids Are Great

I like my kids most of the time.

I think I may keep them.

Caleb likes to sit in the floor with some paper and highlighters and draw. He draws with such intensity that his tongue sticks out and follows the movements of his hand. Seriously. His thing right now is writing the alphabet, which he was doing when he looked up and said "Mom? How do you write a minnow?"

"Well, it looks like a fish, so..."

"No Mom, a MINNOW."

"A MINNOW is a FISH."

"No, like J, K, L, a minnow, P?"

I almost died laughing.

"It's not 'a minnow,' it's 'L,M,N,O,' three letters," I said.

"THREE letters? Awww, man!"

--------

I figured out something spectacular this weekend.

Give them a Play-Doh set and my kids will play for literally four hours.

They've had Play-Doh before, what was the difference this time?

Perhaps the octopus that you shove full of Doh and squeeze out it's holes to make legs. Or poop, depending on how old you are.

--------

Later on the kids were lying on my bed eating chips.

"Mom, what are potato chips?"

"They're made out of potatoes."

"No, what ARE they?"

"Uh, a chip?"

"No, I mean a GO, a WHOA, or a NO?"

(Which means, are they a good food, kinda good kinda bad food, or a bad food?)

"They're a WHOA."

"Awww, man!!"

Then Lily, with a mouthful of chips, exclaims "Man, this is the LIFE!!!"

--------

"Sissy when I turn five I will be in the five grade."

"Yeah, and when I turn eight I will be in the eighth grade!"

"And when I get seventeen I will be in the seventeen grade!"

"I'm gonna live to be one hundred and be in the one hundred grade!"

"Me too!!"

--------

I've been trying to decide what college courses I wish to take next semester, which means I need to decide on what degree plan I wanted to work for. I haven't figured this out in seven years. Kids have some crazy/cool ideas so I figured what the heck.

"Lily, what should I go to school for?"

"Um... to graduate?"

They kill me. They really do.

"No, I mean what kind of job should I have?"

"Um... be a mom?"

Do they read my blogs?

"No, like what job should I have and go to work doing?"

"Um... you should be a cake maker."

Right....

"Or... you could come teach at my school!!"

NO.

Then Caleb pipes up, "Or you could be a rocket launcher!!"

The Tale Of The Sh*tting Cat

I can't think of anything else to post, so I will regale you with a fond memory.

Or not so fond.

This one is called, "The Tale of the Sh*tting Cat."

Once upon a time there was a pregnant teenager living in a two bedroom house with her father, brother, sister and cat.

The sister was of an evil sort, making the very pregnant teenager go outside in 300 degree Texas summer heat to water the swamp cooler. She never offered to do it and let the pregnant teenager rest. The brother was not evil but very sensitive stomached and avoided cleaning gross messes at every convenience.

The cat was actually a stray adopted by the pregnant teenager because her wacky hormones ached for something tangible to love since her baby was still inside her and her ex-boyfriend was, well, her ex.

As the story goes the cat unknowingly ingested a large quantity of milk, or rat poison, or powdered laxative, or something. Something that made this afternoon go awfully wrong.

The pregnant teenager was passing through the hallway when she heard a noise commonly heard when she'd been eating Mexican food. Looking about, she saw the cat in what seemed to be a bit of distress, with its face scrunched up and walking bow legged and sniffing for a place to relieve itself. Filled with compassion, the pregnant teenager decided to pick up the cat and carry it to the litter box, thus focusing its efforts to bowel containment.

Or not.

Upon elevation the cat... exploded.

Fecally.
As in the cats bowels emptied its contents in 0.2 seconds.

The fecal matter was sprayed in a mostly circular fashion upon the walls at about waist height, with a small amount on the floor. The pregnant teenager was not unscathed. Where the cat missed the wall in its circular motion it successfully made onto the pregnant teenager, who stood stunned for a full minute before coming to a rather simple conclusion: the cat going to become a stray again. The house was cleared of occupants as the odor of cat feces permeated the house. The friend that was over actually barfed onto the front lawn.

The pregnant teenager called for help in her distress but alas, help did not come. The evil sister laughed from the front porch and exclaimed, "You picked it up!" The brother was desperately trying to keep his kibbles in his stomach, so he was unable to help. This left the pregnant teenager to clean the mess, using no less than three jumbo rolls of paper towels and 1.5 bottles of 409 disinfectant. She then showered in Lysol and threw her soiled clothing in the trash.

Upon returning home from a hard day of work the father asked, "Why is everyone sitting on the porch?"

Thus concludes the tale of the sh*tting cat, who was never allowed into the house again.

Say What?

Since Caleb has been in school his vocabulary has increased and so have his sentences. For example:

"Mom, my church picture is almost gorgeous."

"Dogs will never be understanding cats."

"I am significant."

"That's my view on it, Sissy!"

"SpongeBob is certainly silly."

Yeah. My gene pool at work here. Love it.

Speaking of gene pools, check this out!

Are there secret cloning operations going on in the Navy?!!

The Brain

I have also had a dream in which I visit a certain house, and then years later actually visit it. I chalked this up to a sort of ESP until I found this article at Live Science. It discusses the potential relationship between memory and deja vu. Deja vu, as they define, is your brain's attempt to distinguish between reality and a memory. Basically, when you have a dream about a place, for example a house, it is a creation of your mind. Later on when you visit a house that has a similar feature of your "dream house," your mind experiences deja vu, and it may plug in various elements that it doesn't understand (see this article for more on this phenomenon); therefore, you make yourself believe you have seen the house before.

Did you know that the brain has receptors designed for opiates (morphine) and THC (marijuana)? Did you know that's because our body makes its own version of opiate and THC when we experience pain? Did you know they haven't found the "volume UP" switch for that production?
The brain is such an amazing organ, isn't it?

That Holy Feeling 12 (Fly Away Home)

So the military has decided to fix its major mistake a week or so early, and subsequently Paul is to be home by the end of this week. Major bummer. That means I won't get to drive two thousand miles with my friend and have an awesome time talking and laughing and complaining about our kids. That means I will be flying to Savannah. Alone. There and back. Alone. That's okay though, at least James and I still get to see each other. I feel bad about leaving because Caleb has the nasty booger bronchial stuff again, but I've been praying really hard. I've been doing a Bible study called "Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed" by Priscilla Shrier, Beth Moore and Kay Arthur. I highly recommend it! One thing Beth talks about is how David danced with all his might when his people were carrying the ark of the covenant into Jerusalem, and how we should praise without abandon because God likes us to really thank Him when we are blessed. So I tried it out the other day.

I'm not a good dancer.

I think God laughed a little, but that's okay. He made me, He knows why I have no rhythm.

Meet My Daughter, Chloe

Lily has renamed herself Chloe after the skanky Bratz doll on t.v. Gag. She has put up signs that proclaim "My name is Chloe not Lily don't call me Lily anymore." So now her uncle calls her Chloe-not-Lily and gets her really mad and it's so funny. But I still get to call her Lily because I named her originally. I'm the only one though.

Nickelodeon has this promotion they do during election time called Kids Pick The President, apparently preparing them for their Constitutional duties ten or so years from now. Lily went online and voted for Sarah Palin "because she is the only girl and she's pretty." Hopefully not everyone will vote like she does.

GO OUT AND VOTE!!!!

NOVEMBER 3!!!

No Thanks, I've Had My Fill 3

I don't have many pet peeves. Just a couple. One of them is hard to explain. I cannot tolerate hearing someone rub their feet on the carpet (Zac still loves to irritate me with this one) or rubbing a pillow when I am laying on it. I also CANNOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, handle a dentist taking a gauze and rubbing my tooth with it for 15 SOLID SECONDS. I can't. It's the sound and the rubbing... eerrrrkkk. I literally couldn't keep my foot from banging on the chair. Seriously. Then when he was done I instinctively cringed and shut my mouth, and he had to do it all over again (he was trying to dry the tooth of all saliva before putting on the crown). I almost cried, y'all. What happened to that spit-sucker thingy? Wouldn't that work?

Yesterday I received my second crowned tooth and that will be my last dentist visit. Forever. I swear. If they're gonna be doing that crap I'd rather knock my own abscessed teeth out with a rusty ice skate, a la Tom Hanks in Castaway. I think I could pull it off.

That Holy Feeling 11 (Faith = Blessings)

Wow, I haven't blogged in a while.

Sorry about that.

If you haven't been keeping up, James and his good friend Paul have been in Georgia for pre-Iraq training since June. Recently we learned that they were going to get four days of R&R at the beginning of November. So my good friend Melissa, who is married to the good friend Paul, and I made plans to drive over and hang out with them during that time. Hang out. Ha ha.

--insert back story here--

Paul is the most unlucky person I know. One day there will be a massive alien attack on Mount Kilimanjaro with seven mountaineers all wearing orange and I can GUARANTEE that Paul will be one of them. He has been in the National Guard for four or five years now, and it has recently been determined that due to a massive error on his recruiter's part, his WHOLE CONTRACT has been invalid. For. Five. Years.

Basically, he went on deployments to Egypt and Iraq on his own volition. He could have said "You know what? I'm gonna blow this Popsicle stand!" and gone home. The. Whole. Time.

HOW IN THE WORLD DOES THIS HAPPEN??

WHAT KIND OF IDIOTS DO THEY HAVE RECRUITING??

--back to original story--

After five years the Army people, or whoever is in charge of screwed up contracts, decide to offer him a chance to get out or get out and enlist active duty Army... two weeks before our planned trip. So if he got released before the trip, I would be flying to Georgia... by myself.

Changing planes three times... by myself.

Renting a car... by myself.

Finding the base.... by myself.

Having an emotional breakdown... by myself.

Of course James leaves the decision to come or not entirely up to me (thanks babe). So I consult Mom, and she tells me in a nutshell that this must be a test from God and that if I show complete faith in God and His willingness to bless us if we ask for it, He will indeed bless.

I am pleased to announce that as of today, Paul will not be leaving Georgia until after the first week of November!! Woo hoo!!

Praise the Lord!!!

Analysis Of A Debate... I Lost Count

1:51 p.m.

Completely started paper over. Pretty sure I wasn't doing it right.

1:52 p.m.

Lots of copying and pasting from previous version of paper.

3:55 p.m.

FINALLY FINISHED.

Length: 6 pages

Words: 2,978

Analyzing A Debate 3

Analyzing debates SUUUUCKS.

2,23o words.

27 more pages of debate to analyze.

Would rather be eating Triple Chunky Hot Fudge Peanut Butter Reese's Cups Swirl with Whip Cream In Your Wildest Dreams ice cream.

Analysis Of A Debate 2

1900 words. Woo hoo!!!

Next big project:

25 slide Power Point presentation about business globalization.

Uuuggghhh.

Why am I doing this again?

Oh yeah.

"Personal enrichment."

The Teenage Years... We Have Arrived!!

"Mom I called my friend Drew, and he's gonna call me back."

"Uh, what?"

--sigh--

"I CALLED my friend DREW and his mom said he would call me BACK."

"How is he going to do that if he doesn't know your phone number?"

"Oh, I gave it to his mom and she wrote it down."

Grrrr.

"Did you now?"

"Yes."

"And which phone number would that be?"

"YOUR phone number!"

--meaning my cell phone--

Grrrr.

For the next three hours I played secretary to my six year old.

"Did he call back yet?"

"No."

"How about now?"

"No."

"Now?"

"NO!!"

Drew did call back. they had an interesting conversation about calling people and giving out phone numbers, which "My mom said I can't tell anyone. But you already have it, so that's okay."

No Thanks, I've Had My Fill 2

I had to go back to the dentist to get my fake crown put on while waiting for my real crown.
I wish I was talking about a tiara.
But I'm not.
I drive to the dentist's office at eight in the morning, so I'm already a little off whack. I get to the office, sit down, and after about ten minutes I get this message from my lower intestines:
EVACUATION COUNTDOWN
10...9...8...
What??
I try to ride it out, but then I get the signs that I need to go NOW.
You know, the cold flashes and goosebumps.
That grab-the-handicap-rail-this-is-gonna-be-fun need to go.
By the time I'm called to the back, I've gone to the bathroom twice, and people in the waiting room are looking at me funny. I don't care. I sit in the dentist's chair (the chair of torture) and take an x-ray and I think it's going to be okay.
But it wasn't.
Back to the bathroom I go, hi ho, hi ho.
When I walk back into the room the hygienist cheerfully asks "Is everything okay?"
I wonder how long it took for her to retrieve that plastic cup from her tonsils.
Apparently not long because in a matter of minutes she has it in my mouth along with the dentist's two instruments and a "cheek pad" that doesn't really pad anything. Then they had the nerve to comment "You sure do have a small mouth. You should consider getting your wisdom teeth removed."
No, YOU should consider removing seven of your fingers. That would be an immense help.
Luckily I made it through the 1.5 hour ordeal with no accidents or interruptions. THAT didn't happen until I got into the car to drive the 30 miles home.
I kid, I kid!
Sorry, no accidents for my lovely, sick minded blog readers.
But I was praying for mercy the whole way home, and made a beeline to the bathroom as soon as I hit the front door.
Maybe I was just nervous.
Maybe I just needed a good blog subject.
Nevertheless, I return to the dentist in two weeks to get my porcelain crown.
(I asked for gold, but my insurance refused to cover it. Bummer.)

Analysis of a Debate

1:32 p.m.
I am currently procrastinating.
I have a three thousand word analysis of a debate due on October 5th.
I have about 200 words so far.
Um...
So...
How is your day going?
2:48 p.m.

Call Mom. Ask how to do analysis of a debate. Get a couple of ideas.
Word count up to 388.
4:17 p.m.
I'm dying.
"Throw me a freakin' BONE here!"
6:13 p.m.
Woo hoo!! Word count up to 1,377!!

That Holy Feeling 10 (Sleep Better, Live Better)

God and I have been going around and around with several issues, namely my insomnia. I guess I stepped when He pulled or something, because I've started taking my sleep meds and spending more time in the Word and voila! I have been sleeping great! In doing so, I have learned:

• Children can be enjoyable.
• It is possible to get up at 7:00 a.m. every day for a whole week.
• I don't really need that donut/cake/cereal/muffin/ice cream.
• Pilates can be fun.
• It is possible to do Pilates every day for a whole week.
• You aren't as irritable when you sleep well.
• It is possible to do your school work every day for a whole week.
• Teenage boys can mistake you for a college student at the ice cream store (ok, I needed THAT ice cream).

Hallelujah!

No Thanks, I've Had My Fill

Last week I went to the dentist to get two cavities filled. I hate the dentist. Aren't they supposed to wait for the numbing gel to take affect before shoving a 12 gauge needle into your gums? I guess not. I also think that God should have put zippers on our cheeks so that the dentist and his assistant could get all four hands in there comfortably. Seriously. I think they had seven instruments in there at one time, telling me to "Move your jaw sideways so we can work here." How about you just pop the joint out and relieve both of our suffering? I guess both cavities were pretty bad because he gave up trying to fill them and said, "I think you should consider getting crowns put on these." I said go for it, he said pay me $600. I sighed.

I also took the kids to the dentist for the first time. Let me tell you, two colors that the hygienist should NOT be finding in one's mouth is yellow and black. Eewww. On the plus side, Caleb did really well, almost falling asleep while his teeth were being cleaned. They couldn't get bite wing X-rays because of his gag reflex, and when asked what flavor of toothpaste he wanted he answered, "All of them?" No cavities for either of them! We had a time trying to convince Lily that the dentist wasn't going to pull a surprise tooth-yank and that the X-ray machine wasn't going to fry her brain, but we finally got her calmed down. She had a lot of plaque, but we got that all cleared up. Woo hoo!!

The Next Winner Might (not) Be You! ! !

Don't you just love those sweepstakes? I do. I recently received a notice int he mail that some car company happens to have a 2009 Chevrolet Malibu Hybrid that they just can't get rid of, so they're going to give it away! And it could be all mine!! Upon reading the fine print, I see this:

"The winner will be informed by registered mail no later than February 17, 2009. In order to win the prize, the selected entrant MUST FIRST CORRECTLY ANSWER A TIME-LIMITED MATHEMATICAL SKILL-TESTING QUESTION TO BE ADMINISTERED BY TELEPHONE.

What?? How ridiculous! Not only to you have to beat out four billion other contestants, but then you have to answer a math question. From the phrase, "time-limited mathematical skill-testing" I suspect the question won't be along the 2+2 lines. Good grief!!