Hoorah!

It's time for Back to School.  And although the kids and I have had our ups and downs this summer, I decided to give them an End Of Summer Hoorah!  I know.  I'm cute.  I do what I can.  So the kids and I headed down to the city have a sleep over with my brother and his darling family.  When we got to their place we had some dinner, took a walk to the park, found an old golf ball on our way, went back to their house, sawed open the golf ball to discover the weirdest innards I've ever seen, and then started setting up for our "sleep out" on the deck.  That's right!  Cokin (my SIL)  insisted that we sleep outside and obviously my kids were down with that.  So as we lay there in our sleeping bags looking at the stars and listening to sirens in the distance, Lil' G read to us from her joke book and we all laughed until we finally fell asleep.  Amazingly the kids slept through the night.  It was a good night.

The following morning Cokin and I packed up the kiddos and headed for the zoo.  We saw every animal from the baby elephant to the snakes and even made it in time for the bird show.  (Did I mention that Aunt Cokin participated in the bird show?  Good times!)  And although this was not my first trip to the zoo, my kids and Cokin taught me some new things.  First of all I learned that if you howl at the monkeys they will howl back.  Between Cokin and Ranger, there was some serious conversation going on.  Second of all Ranger explained to us how he was certain that one giraffe was a boy and one was a girl.  Afterall, one had a "wilford".  And last but not least we learned that the gorilla has extremely poor hygiene.  Cokin pointed out that he needs help wiping or he's gonna get a rash.  True dat, sista.  And don't think that we went out looking for these inappropriate life lessons.  The gorilla literally stuck his rear end up against the glass.  Not our fault!  Isn't it the responsibility of a good parent to turn everyday experiences into teaching opportunities?  Just sayin'.

So back to school, back to school!  Hope everyone had an end of summer hoorah that was as rad and educational as ours.  If not, get on it!  There's still time.

Some of My Secret Confessions

I'll Admit....

• As a child I was afraid to dress/undress in front of the TV if Mr. Rogers was on.  I thought he could see me.  Creepy.
• Someone recently tried to scam me out of thousands of dollars when I tried to sell something in the classifieds.  But, nope.  I'm too smart.  Sucka!
• I try to hide things from my hairdresser like products I do/do not use on my hair.  I just play along when she comments on how dry my hair is.  (oops!)  (and BTW way, if you're my hairdresser and reading this, I'm totally kidding!)
• I love fall and winter just so I don't have to shave my legs as often.  Pants are glorious.
• I painted on a toenail where my original one fell off.  Just admire it from a distance.
• I've secretly hidden in the bathroom or my bedroom to eat a treat without my kids knowing.  I mean, I love my kids, but somedays I just don't wanna share.  I just wanna eat my candybar or ice cream in peace.  Is that too much to ask?
• I have a child that my mother always threatened me with.  "Someday I hope you have a daughter just like you!"  Wish granted, Mom. 
• When I was a child my neighbor told me a story about a snake in the sewer system that had come up through the toilet and killed a man.  I never peed the same again.

• One of my goals in life was to be a professional football player.  I grew out of that and decided I would just marry one.  I grew out of that too.  But, oh, how you will always have a special place in my heart, Steve.
• My brother and I have texting competitions.  Whoever texts the best poem wins.  I remain undefeated.  (LOL!)
• I entered a coloring contest once to win a pony.  I roped off a corner of our backyard for my pet before the contest was even over.  I was confident I would win.  I was also confident that my 3x5' yarn fence would restrict my horse.  (Sidenote:  I was 7.)
• My record is eating 12 donuts in one day.  12! 

• I am currently trying to get tickets to Oprah.  It's the final season, yo!
• I blog only in hopes of making others feel more normal.  I know I'm a little off.  And I'm okay with it.  Do you feel better about yourself now?

Gourmet Food

 

Last night I sat dumbfounded as I watched a commercial about dog food that looked prettier than what I feed my own family.  It was made with beef chunks and baby spinach.  Advertised were a variety of flavors including Steak Florentine, Grilled Chicken Primivara, Tuscan Style Stew with Beef, and Steak Tips Sonoma Style Flavor.  I am a crazy bad housewife if people are feeding that to their dogs.  Some nights my family is chowing on cold cereal or peanut butter sandwiches. 

Being a dog owner & lover myself, I know that my dog would turn her nose up at baby spinach.  If she felt otherwise she would've rummaged through my garden.  So, Point 1 - why are dogs/cats on TV eating better than humans in other parts of the world (including the humans in my house)?  Point 2 - who in their right mind serves their pet dinner on a glass or silver platter like shown on the commercials?  I use paper plates whenever possible with my humans.  Who wants to wash dishes after their family is done eating let alone their pets? 

Ummmmm.....anyone?

Scarier Dream

Dream:  I was rollerblading through 7-Eleven with Bret Michaels.  The End.

Interpretation:  Inconclusive.  Although from past experiences there is a good possibility that I was actually rollerblading by myself through a room full of mirrors on a bad hair day while wearing a bandanna.  That would explain the presence, or illusion of Bret Michaels.

PS--This is true.  These are in fact the things that I dream about at night.  You can't make this crap up!  My brain is certainly a dark and mysterious place.  If you would like to contribute to the counseling I should have started years ago, please make donations directly to me.  Thank you.

Scary Dream

It's not a secret to many that my dreams at night are often bizarre.  They tend to be centered around abnormal and extremely weird topics.  Last night my dream wasn't so odd, but disturbing still the same.

The Dream:  I was doing laundry.  I pulled out the bottle of bleach to add to the wash water.  The bleach splattered as I poured.  I ruined my favorite jeans and bleached the crotch of my son's school pants. 

The End

Nightmare right?  Dreaming about doing laundry?  Lame!  I'm sure I dreamt about it because I'd been doing laundry all day yesterday.  But bleach?  What a traumatic twist.  Being the genius that I am I was able to pinpoint the relevance of bleach in my dream.  My kids have been sick, so naturally thoughts of bleach were floating around in my head.  Makes total sense.  Bleach = Killing germs.  The next mystery.....my favorite jeans.  I don't shop.  That's not an exaggeration.  I really don't shop for clothes for myself more than once or twice a year (if that), therefore I have a very limited wardrobe so it would be devastating for my favorite jeans to be bleach splattered.  Nightmare, again!  But the one part of my dream that I haven't been able to conclude is the part about bleaching the crotch of my little boy's jeans.  Maybe he's sterile?  I don't know.

RECAP - I did laundry yesterday, I dreamt about it last night, and I'm currently doing laundry as I blog.  What's more frightening?  My dream?  Or my reality?

The Uglies

Vomit.  Such an ugly word.  Such an ugly thing.  But yet something we can all relate to in some way.  Whether we're the ones puking, the ones holding back a sick one's hair, or the parent up all night clean up the vomit, we've all been introduced to the ugly. 

Diarrhea.  The cousin to vomit.  Such an ugly word (and hard to spell).  Such an ugly thing.  But once again, something we can all relate to.

It's summertime.  Summertime!  Why, oh why, are my kids sick?  We are suppose to be outside swimming, running through sprinklers and eating popsicles faster than they can melt.  Not this week.  Two of my four monkeys are under the weather, which makes for some long days and even longer nights for all of us.  Let me recap my night for you.  "The uglies" have officially outworn their welcome.

8:30 PM - put kids to bed

8:35 PM - consul whining child and put kids to bed, again

8:37 PM - tell kids more sternly to go to bed (while I'm playing a game on the IPhone)

8: 55 PM - yell softly at kids to go to bed (I'm losing patience, and my game is waiting)

9:00 PM - snuggle sick child and then send them to bed (back to the IPhone)

9:15 PM - give pep talk to other sick child and send back to bed (I really need some alone time...back to the game)

9:18 PM - run to the bathroom to hold hair for sick child who is crying and hunched over the toilet

9:20 PM - help child clean up after "the ugly", brush teeth, wash hands, blow nose, comb hair and then send off to bed (and rush back to the IPhone)

9:30 PM - put in a movie for sick child who can't sleep

10:00 PM - watch The Office (no interruptions)

10:30 PM - watch another episode of The Office but turn it off early to go to bed

10:50 PM - finally doze off.....Zzzzzzzzz

11:00 PM - wake up to loud noise....run upstairs to find whining sick children screaming and crying (oh sleep how I miss you already)

11:10 PM - back to bed for all of us.....again

12:00 AM - wake up to kids in my room telling me to hurry....someone is crying upstairs

12:01 AM - run upstairs in a drunken sleepless state (how many stairs are there again?)

12:07 AM - head back to my own bed after kids are all settled and snuggled in (pretty sure I ran into a wall on my way back to my room)

2:00 AM - sick kids crying again....hurry...running upstairs in my sleep (not pretty and not safe)

2:08 AM - back down the stairs counting them as I go.  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,.....  Ouch!  Missed that one! (curse word)

5:00 AM - repeat

It's amazing how much I love my monkeys even when they drive me crazy, keep me disheveled with sleep deprivation, and fill my world with "the uglies" and crying all night long.  Who knew that love was so strong?  And as much as it breaks my heart to see them so uncomfortable and sick, it truly tests my patience.  But we're on the up and up!  Today is going to be a good day.  We all slept in til after 10 AM, there has been less whining and "ugliness" this morning and I've got Diet Coke chilling in the fridge.  No worries.  Happy day.

PS -- Watch out for "the uglies" at your house.  I hear they're making the rounds.

County Fair

I love the fair.  My Handsome loves the fair.  My kids love the fair.  We make it a point to go to the county fair each summer.  Mr. Handsome and the kids especially love the livestock and farm equipment.  This year the kids were lucky enough to borrow the neighbor's chickens and enter them in the fair.  We walked away with a 1st place and 3rd place.  Not bad.  But Hall Monitor was less than thrilled with the report on her chicken.  Her little birdie was labeled "out of condition".  After seeing that less than beautiful bird I made the equation that "out of condition" = "bare butt & bad manners".  I wouldn't have given it a ribbon with that kind of show either.  Come on, chick-a-roo.  Have some manners and dignity.  We're at the fair!  Save the bathroom break for after the crowds.

The other great thing about the county fair is that we women, (myself not included) can be justly rewarded with praise for our everyday contributions to society.  My MIL won a blue ribbon for her chocolate chip cookies and my SIL won a blue ribbon for her sour cherry jelly.  (clap, clap, clap)  Well deserved on all counts I might add.  And last, but not least, my sweet little niece won Best of Show and 1st place for her painting.  I am so proud, as were her cousins, so we made it a point to get a photo in front of it.  You go, Ellie Belly!

You can't go to the fair without at least socializing with the carnies for a moment.  It would just be rude not to.  So we did a little carnie time and a lot of people watching.  (Amazing how the fair puts the people of Walmart to shame.)  We made sure to ride the Ferris Wheel and played a couple of games so that we could add some cheap stuffed animals to our already multiplying collection.  It was the biggest rip off of the night but the kids loved every minute of it.  We also stopped to catch up on the latest livestock competition for next year, checked the stats on the local hay (for Handsome of course) and let the kids inspect and climb on the farm equipment.  Who knew that the farm equipment would entertain us more than the carnival rides?  And to think that they were free to play on.  Suckas!

By far my favorite part of the fair is the rodeo.  I know, I know.  You probably think it's cruelty to animals.  But personal/PETA opinions aside, it's some good entertainment.  Both Ranger and Da Wort decided that they wanted to participate in the rodeo this year and ride the sheep.  They've done mutton bustin' twice before, so we didn't hesitate when they asked to do it again.  But from the moment they woke up that morning, Ranger was a mess.  He was physically sick just thinking about riding the sheep.  So as we watched the first half of the rodeo that night and awaited the mutton bustin' competition, Ranger decided that he wouldn't be riding.  Da Wort insisted that he still ride.  And ride he did.  He got a total of 74 points I believe.  He rode hard and held onto that sheep tight until he rolled of the side and got trampled.  He stood up from the ground, brushed the dirt off his hands, gave the clown a big High 5 and then turned to wave at the crowd.  It was wonderful.  After he left the rodeo arena he lifted his shirt to show his battle wounds where the sheep had indeed stepped on his back.  He was sore but tearless and very proud.  Both he and Ranger walked away with a trophy and haven't stopped talking about it since. 

Until next year, County Fair.  It's been real.  It's been fun.  Stay cute and cool.  See ya next summer. 

Interesting/Awkward Conversations

Scene:  Master bathroom.  Me with my two girls.  I'm in my undergarments doing my hair and makeup.  Lil" G and Hall Monitor are getting in the shower. 

Me: Stop staring at my boobs.

Hall Monitor: I'm not!  I'm looking at your bra.

Lil' G: Yea, HM, stop staring.  (laughing)

Hall Monitor: You use to stare at her boobs.

Lil' G: No.  I use to stare at her bra!  (big difference)

Me: Either way, stop staring at me.  It's weird.

Lil' G: Remember when I use to call your bra a boo-bra?  (still laughing)

Me: Time for you to have your own bathroom.  Now get in the shower.

**********

Scene: Master bedroom.  Sunday morning.  Lil' G and I are getting ready for church.  Horowitz is in the shower.  I run into the bathroom to grab something and come back out into the bedroom.

Lil' G: How come you can see dad naked and we can't?

Me: Ummmmmmmm......derrrrrrrrrrr......

**********

Scene: Dining room table.  Dinnertime.  Hall Monitor, Lil' G, and Ranger are eating.

Hall Monitor: Mmmmmm...this is so good.

Lil' G: It's double D! (double delicious)

Hall Monitor: (laughing) That doesn't mean what you think it means!

Ranger: Mmmmm....mine is double D too!

Lil' G: It means double delicious, HM!

Hall Monitor: Nope.  Uncle T. told me that double D means really big boobs.

(uncontrollable giggles)

Lil' G: Really big boobs or really fat boobs? (WTH?  Am I really hearing this?)

Hall Monitor: Really really big boobs!

(belly aching laughter and nearly milk out of their noses)

Thanks, Uncle T.! 

**********

PS--I am now converting all blogs to nicknames.  It should make for some confusion but also more entertainment.  Definitions and origins of nicknames will follow soon.

Bath Time

It's summertime.  We wake up early and stay up late.  We're all tired and ornery.  We've said "to heck" with our schedule.  By 6 o'clock in the evening the kids have hit the wall and I'm ready to hit something besides the wall or someone.  And yet at that very dreaded time of day, I, as the responsible party, am obligated to make one of the hardest decisions of my day.  My little dirt covered monsters come staggering through the house looking somewhat homeless.  We're all tired.  It's been a long day.  Is a bath really necessary?  This is when you should consult the checklist.

"Do They Really Need a Bath Today?" Checklist:

1. Can they pass inspection with a spot cleaning? 

2. How long has it been since their last bath?

3. Did they swim or play in the water today?

4. Will they swim or play in the water tomorrow?

5. How close do you have to get to them before you can smell them?

6. Is there sand or dirt in their hair?

7. Have dreadlocks started to form in their hair yet?

8. Are the bottom of their feet a different color than their skin?

9. How noticeable is the dirt caked under their fingernails & would it be inappropriate to make them wear gloves in August?

10. Will I survive if I have to wrestle them in the tub tonight?

11. Will they survive if I have to wrestle them in the tub tonight?

Oh, bath time, how I dread and loath you!  I have always dreaded bath time with my kids.  Back in the good old days I could throw all four of them in the tub together and create a system of wetting, shampooing, lathering, etc. moving from left to right.  I was incredible!  But then the day came when the girls and boys discovered that they had different parts.  Time to separate.  Now the girls shower and the boys bathe.  And although it has gotten easier there is still drama.  About 5 minutes after the girls have headed to the shower I sit waiting for their cries for help because it's well known that they will knock the sliding shower door off it's track.  By the time I rescue them I am sure to find a naked girl, standing under a pelting shower of water holding the door up to prevent a flood.  It's sad and entertaining all at the same time.  Then there is the matter of bathing the boys.  I can never get the water temperature right.  It's too hot.  It's too cold.  It's too deep.  It's not full enough.  Someone is laying down.  Someone is splashing.  It's just a sad, sad moment in time.  And by the time it's over the victims of the splashing and fighting are the bathroom floor and me.  Like I said, sad moment. 

So with our crazy busy summertime schedule, or rather, lack of schedule, I've concluded that we should skip bath time all together.  My kids don't need a bath.  They swim.  They run through the sprinklers.  Same thing.  They're fine!

Today Rewind

Remember that bowl of cherries I had last week?

Sour Cherry Jelly

What else did I do today?  Hmmmmm....I took on the monster of all monsters.  This is what he looks like.  I like to call him Gauge.  (Get it?  Gage/Gauge?  Lol!  I'm so funny!  But what you're probably thinking is "Nerd alert!  Nert alert!  Whatev's.)  Meet the monster.

The Pressure Canner

I know.  You're still mocking me aren't you?  But this thing is seriously scary.  I was being a nice daughter and canning green beans for my mother.  And as I sat outside snipping beans and tossing them into a bowl, I felt like a true domestic country lady.  I watched tractors driving back and forth down the street.  I could smell manure.  My dog sat at my feet and kept me company and I snipped beans from the garden.  It was another Ingles moment.  (sigh)  That is until the beans were ready to process in the canner.  Ahhhhh!  But I survived.  There were no explosions.  There was no mushroom cloud.  There were no 911 calls.  And I only had to call my grandma twice for assistance.  No worries.  Whoosh!

Bottled Green Beans

Well, now that I've tooted my own horn, let me tell ya what else I did today (and maybe what I didn't do too).  I didn't shower until nearly 1 o'clock this afternoon.  I didn't do the dishes.  I did take out the garbage (clap, clap, clap) because the smell was making me nauseous.  I argued with my kids A LOT.  I grounded my 4-year-old twice (don't ask).  I took the kids to swim lessons.  I didn't put makeup on.  I wore scrub bottoms and a t-shirt all day so I didn't really get dressed.  (I probably won't change til morning.  I'm really comfy.)  I did brush my teeth.  I didn't do my hair.  I did put on a bra.  (you're welcome)  I updated my blog. (duh!)  The kids entered chickens in the county fair (but I guess I can't take credit for that since my neighbor did all the work, so, never mind).  I let my kids enter chickens in the fair.  (lol....still so funny I am)  Ummmmmm.....I watered the lawn and killed a spider.  I did a couple of loads of laundry but didn't fold them.  And that's about it.  So even though I'm showing off my jelly and beans, it's really just because it's the only task that I officially completed today.  I'm normal.  Actually, probably a little below average.  But today was a good day.  And when My Man came home from work and asked, "So, what did you do today?" in his sweet loud voice, all I had to do was point to the jars cooling in the kitchen.  Nuff said.  That's right.  I'm da bomb!

Jewelry Sale

Jewelry.  My girls are so fond of jewelry that if they're not buying it, they're making it.  After a summer of making jewels and accessories galore and storing them in little boxes scattered around their room they decided that the rest of the world should be graced with a piece of their beautiful homemade jewelry.  It was settled.  They were going to have a  "jewelry sale". 

The girls invited their cousin and a friend to participate in the sale with them.  But then in realizing the drama and cattiness that could result in working equally with 4 girls, they took it upon themselves to set up a corporation of sorts.  My eldest, Paige, decided that since she was the brains behind the whole production she should be the President.  She then called Gracie to be the Vice-President.  The other two girls would be the secretaries.  And then to satisfy her brother's desires to be a part of this special occasion she appointed them to security duty.  The boys were thrilled with their job and title of "security" but soon found out that it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.  Paige and Gracie insisted that they wear certain attire.  Black.  Everything black.  When Brooks came out wearing a charcoal suit coat and slacks with newly polished black leather church shoes I intervened and explained that he could wear whatever he wanted.  He settled for jeans, a t-shirt, a coyote jawbone necklace, a bandanna on his head, a ball cap and sunglasses.  (I swear I didn't encourage this!)  Very intimidating!  After the matter of uniform was solved the girls set up scenarios of what would happen if someone tried to steal something from their jewelry sale.  If the security guards caught the thief and prevented any harm to the merchandise, they had successfully passed the training tests and were then promoted to "senior security".  If they failed however then the girls would kindly relieve the boys of their duties.  Brooks passed.  Cort failed.

The date was set.  The corporation was organized.  Security was trained.  It was time to sell some jewelry. 

The morning of the sale the girls were up bright and early with their cousin making last minute additions to their product line.  Paige dressed in a skirt to look professional.  Then they began setting up shop in the front yard.  Tables were lined up and table clothes hung.  Signs were nailed to trees and taped to posts.  The bracelets, rings and necklaces were taped to tables to prevent wind damage.  And a real cash register was plugged in, filled with coins and ready to roll.  Then, to add variety to the store, coolers of Otter Pops and sodas were set out along with cups of lemonade.  Fossils and rocks recently found in the yard were cleaned and polished and set out on display.  Small papers of children's art were taped to the tables in hopes of selling it.  The girls were officially open for business.

Quite a few customers came through the store that day.  At first I was convinced that the girls were actually going to lose money when they continued to sell sodas and Otter Pops to their brothers and then buy them for themselves.  But as time went on they were busy negotiating with neighbors and strangers alike who were kind enough to stop and make the sale a success.  My favorite customer of the day was a middle-aged heavy set man who pulled his old truck to the side of the road and hopped out.  He wore a cut off sleeveless shirt and a ball cap.  I could see a woman waiting patiently in the passenger seat as this gentleman juggled tiny bracelets, rings and necklaces in his big rugged hands.  He was a sweet man who spoke gently to the girls from beneath his bushy FuManchu.  He was who I least expected to shop at my girl's jewelry sale.  But the girls showed him around and after several minutes of grazing he took his bag of jewels and left.  It was too cute and too funny.

Notice the ginormous tub of cheese balls
under the table for snacks.

Five hours after the store opened the girls started cleaning up their tables and goods and counted and separated their money.  Each little entrepreneur walked away beaming with $8 in their pockets.  It was a good day.  And more than anything I was happy to see the sale end because it meant that they would stop bossing me around.  Oh wait.....I've got a lifetime of that left with two sassy girls.  Deep breaths.  Count to 10.  It will be okay.  I will survive.  Right?

My Brain

This is what the human brain looks like or what it's suppose to look like.  My brain is slightly different.  How do I know?  I just know.  I haven't seen it, but I'm confident that it's missing something.  You're all laughing and nodding aren't you?  If you've met me or read my blog then you know that what I say is true.  My husband has always said that I'm missing the filter between my brain and my mouth.  And since my lack of filter has been and will be a topic of conversation/explanation my entire married life, I figured the least I could do was give that missing body part a name.  I've named it my dribble.  I'm missing a dribble.  Why a dribble?  Because I went to the trusty thesaurus and typed in "filter" and the word dribble showed up.  And out of all two dozen synonyms for "filter", the word dribble just called out to me.  It's catchy, quirky, and weird enough to be added to my brain anatomy.  It just flows with Hypothalamus and Pineal body don't you think?  ("pineal".... hee-hee!  That's a funny word!)

Well, due to the lack of a dribble I have said things on more than one occasion that were offensive or inappropriate.  I don't even notice.  Sometimes after we've been in a social setting and my husband finally gets me alone he will say something to the effect of, "That was really inappropriate", or "I can't believe you said that!  How embarrassing!"  Only at that moment does the light click on and I think, "Ohhhhhhhhh....." with a really enlightened look on my face.  It's kind of a delayed reaction.  Ya know, due to the lack of dribble.

Occasionally what I say unthinkingly really bothers me after I realize what I've said.  I don't mean to be inappropriate.  I don't want to hurt other people's feelings.  But unfortunately it happens more times than not.  I recently had an experience where I stuck my nose in another person's business and tried giving advice that wasn't mine to give.  It was really out of line.  Oops.  My bad.  Are we still friends?  If not, does it count that I lack a dribble? 

Chair of Bowlies

I thought it was suppose to be, "Life is just a bowl of cherries". 

(I love M.E.)

Well, either way, my sister and I (yes the one with the gimpy foot, who is mad about my last blog post BTW) went cherry picking today.  Have you ever heard someone called a "cherry picker" before?  Well, we weren't those kind of cherry pickers.  We literally picked cherries.  See, there is this totally rad chicka who has these randomly delicious sour cherry trees in her backyard.  Are sour cherries good?  Not really.  They are sour (duh!)  But what you can make from them is incredible.  And not only do they create yummy homemade treasures, but they are beautiful.

Sour cherry jelly is da bomb!  Seriously!  No joke!  Double D!  (that stands for double delicious)  And as monotonous as it was to pick one cherry at a time and drop it in a humongous bowl that never seemed to fill, we filled two big bowls of pretty little cherries.  (high 5 sista!)  Those little gems will be juiced and pectinized (yes I make up words) to make beautiful red yumminess.  Maybe, just maybe, if you're nice to me I will give you some.  (I would really like some followers on my blog...hint...hint.)  Once you've joined the Sour Cherry Jelly Fan Club (say that 5 times fast) there's no going back.  Trust me.  It's addictive.  And it is said that the pie filling made from these precious sour cherries is quite delectable also. 

Thank you SIL and BIL for letting us have at your trees.  Thank you Gimp Sister for chillin' with me today and picking cherries.  And thank you Blue Ball canning book for making me feel a little bit like Caroline Ingles.  It's a dream come true.

Let the canning begin!!!

Wish Come True

Dear Big Sister (no pun intended),

It is said that to be older is to be wiser.  I beg to differ.  Let me explain.

When we were younger I broke my leg.  You were jealous.  You thought I was faking.  I wasn't faking.  And if I was faking I did such an amazing job that I was rewarded with 3 surgeries on that broken leg and an Oscar.  Why oh why didn't you believe me?  I remember you getting so angry with me because of the gifts and attention I received from family and friends that you hit my casted leg with your fist.  (I'm shaking my head just thinking about it.)  Did it hurt your hand?  Probably.  So, so sad, sister.  I can see you now as a child wishing on birthday candles and shooting stars for the joy of a broken leg.  Kind of pathetic if you ask me.  Crutches aren't all they're cracked up to be.  They equal raw sweaty armpits and slipping on wet floors.  It's not pretty.

Is it true that you were so jealous of my injury that you jumped off the neighbor's trampoline attempting to break your own leg?  (still shaking my head)  If only we had known of your emotional damage earlier we may have been able to get you help.  But here we are, nearly 20 years later and you still can't move on, can you?  But dropping a sprinkler on your foot?  Really?  Oh well.  There's nothing I can do about it and not much to say except, congratulations.  You finally got what you wished for.  Good luck limping on that swollen club.  And next time, be careful what you wish for. 

With love,

Little Sister

Mr. McGraw

See that little person on stage?  That's Mr. McGraw.

I had a hot date this weekend.  H-O-T!  My hot date and I went to the Tim McGraw/Lady Antebellum concert.  Good music.  Good times.  Good company.  Good people watching.  Correction......weird people watching!  In fact, the word "weird" is an understatement.  I don't even know how to describe the people that walk the earth or stagger into country music concerts.  The little posse I was with (although I'm biased) was very cute and normal.  But really?  To the other concert goers out there, what made you think that it was okay to leave the house wearing that?  Or rather, what made you think that it was okay to leave the house wearing lack of that? 

At one point during the concert women started throwing bras on the stage.  I'm not sure what mortified me more....the fact that they were throwing their bras on stage, or the fact that they were throwing grandma bras on stage.  Note to self, should I ever attend a concert and decide to remove my bra to throw it on stage, wear a fancy pretty bra, not a flesh colored ginormous comfort Playtex bra.  Granny panties are worn for comfort, not fashion.  Granny bras are likewise.  And for the record, de-bra-ing myself in public really isn't my style.  I'm more of a private undresser.

Concert concessions.  Hmmmmm...where to begin.  I would like to shake hands with the genius that figured out a way to buy a pack of Dasani water bottles and sell them for $3.50/bottle.  I hate you, whoever you are, but I must congratulate you on what could possibly be one of the most annoying yet smartest and most profitable ideas ever.  (clap, clap, clap)  Well done, Concession Man.  (clap, clap, clap)  Well done!  You finagled me out of $7.

We were told before the concert (which is rumor of course) that before going on stage Mr. McGraw runs 3 miles to achieve the sheen and glimmer he prefers having on his skin for his performance.  I will agree that his sheen was nicely accomplished.  However after seeing his skinny jeans I beg to differ the reasoning behind his running 3 miles.  Don't get me wrong, he wore them well.  But most people would require far more running than 3 miles to squeeze their lower half into those drain pipes.  Just sayin'. 

And PS -- Does Mr. McGraw ever take off his cowboy hat?  Food for thought.

Sharpies

Sharpies.  Permanent.  Black.  (usually)

Kids.  Messy.  Carefree.  Creative.  Funny.  (always)

Child: "Look, mom!  I wrote my name two times on my toys!"  (big smile on little face; black Sharpie in right hand; toys in left hand)

Mom: "Ohhhhhhhh....." (raised eyebrows on scared big face)

Questions as to proper parental behavior:
Should I...
(a) Applaud the use of letters, spelling, and penmanship? 
(b) Run like mad around the house looking for more brandings while screaming about the word "permanent"?
(c) Both of the above?

to be continued...