tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59141868731897736652024-03-05T23:38:55.772-06:00Adventures in ChaosYankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-77993843863316119262010-08-30T21:46:00.008-05:002010-08-30T22:21:54.401-05:00The Old Gray Mare Just Ain't What She Used to Be<div>It's 9:47 p.m. as I write this...</div><br /><div>I'm flipping exhausted.</div><div></div><br /><div>Remember back when it was time to go OUT at 10:00 p.m.??? Cripes! What have I become?</div><br /><div></div><div>Wanna know <em>why</em> I'm so tired????</div><div></div><br /><div>Because I spent 2 and 1/2 hours up at the school tonight - VOLUNTEERING for my kids' activities.</div><div></div><br /><div>Cripes, again!</div><div></div><br /><div>Everything from reading to the class to nature walks to working in the school garden to (eeek) handling reptiles.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>WTF? (my mom loves that comment - she can cuss without <em>really</em> cussing)</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Where did <strong>I</strong> go? How did <strong>I</strong> become a middle aged stay-at-home-mom? Why can I make a <em>mean</em> lasagna now but can't run a half a mile without feeling faint and nauseous?</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Did I mention I have to call the exterminator tomorrow? (ADHD is kicking in... sorry) because we have MICE? Ack. Every time I go out to the garage, I see them skittering all over the freakin' place. Ack. Perhaps I'll borrow a reptile from the 3rd grade exhibit to 'take care of business'... :)</div><br /><div>Next week I'm going to be 41. (shhhhhhhh) Ally still thinks I'm closer to 80. (ouch)</div><br /><div>I don't know which is worse, being 40 and feeling 80 or being 80 and feeling 40. Either way, I'm not sure how it happened. You blink, it's gone.</div><br /><div>NOT that I'm saying I want to go back... no. no. no.</div><br /><div>It's just strange that these same eyes are looking out of a face that I don't really recognize.</div><br /><div>And what the hell <em>are </em>liver spots, by the way?</div><br /><div></div><div>I guess it beats the alternative.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>One of my friends (of my Viviene Westmoreland family) took his own life on August 3rd. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It's been tough.</div><div></div><br /><div>What to tell the kids? </div><div>When do we all feel better?</div><div>What to do to help? </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Why?</div><br /><div>Why?</div><br /><div>Why?</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>One of my Mark's high school buddies said it best at the Memorial service when he said, <em>'the</em> <em>devil came in and stole my friend in a vulnerable moment</em>.'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He nailed it.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I just wish my friend had seen the devil coming for him. Maybe he could've dodged him.</div><div></div><br /><div>I've danced with the devil in my past. I'm so glad I made it out alive. </div><div></div><br /><div>I swear, there's a separate God for idiots and children. </div><br /><div>I shouldn't be alive today. (Me, being in the <em>'idiot'</em> category)</div><div></div><br /><div>Seeing Danny's face when I told him tonight that I was volunteering for the 'reptile' exhibit at school and hearing him say 'YAY, MOM!' was priceless.</div><div></div><br /><div>I'm glad the devil decided that I wasn't worth it...</div><br /><div></div><div>RIP Mark. You are missed every day, my brother.</div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Tl0VSQTi5OMxCBsJKhaMbwpKOsYaHFTnwOEiPE9CbGoVGnikou_G8JOlHFAmy8V_I2ku-GpE28khcMxZPnarRK3qxcKlaJTyGVRN5ZsuHrOC2xhNGyQEuwndEUlYHT-st4hZbg9wwGNO/s1600/program4.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 154px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511407356813437698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Tl0VSQTi5OMxCBsJKhaMbwpKOsYaHFTnwOEiPE9CbGoVGnikou_G8JOlHFAmy8V_I2ku-GpE28khcMxZPnarRK3qxcKlaJTyGVRN5ZsuHrOC2xhNGyQEuwndEUlYHT-st4hZbg9wwGNO/s200/program4.jpg" /></a></div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-28903495951442810442010-07-02T02:49:00.017-05:002010-07-02T03:49:45.862-05:00The Woobie Addiction<div><div><div><div><div>Wanna hear something funny?</div><br /><div>My son and I both have a '<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">woobie</span>'.</div><br /><div>His is called '<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">blankee</span>' and mine is called a '<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">snuggie</span>'</div><br /><div>I guess I've passed on my love of all things tactile. </div><div></div><br /><div>I'm thinking that it's like love at first sight, or <em>feel</em>, in this case. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Danny's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">blankee</span> came to us not via a baby shower or the usual way, but from Delta airlines.</div><br /><div></div><div></div><div>Before he turned two, we went to NH for Christmas. You've heard the old adage, 'you can't get there from here'? Well that applies to all flights into NH. Of course there it sounds like:</div><br /><div></div><div>"You can't get <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">theyah</span> from <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">heyah</span>"</div><br /><div></div><div>But once again I'm wandering. (Hey, it's easy to do at 3:31 a.m.)</div><br /><div>After several layovers, stopovers, cancelled and delayed flights we were finally on our way to our final destination and my poor baby was exhausted. The flight attendant was kind enough to cover him as he slept on my lap with one of those navy blue 'freebie' blankets (remember how they used to have those in the 'olden days'?) and he has refused to let go ever since.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPiYnNP5ExABaZEYAdc049nZCqiHoBlxE1-du-Vd1FN_bX82kXFKrA0nXtbn7l5QGlX4Nih4lpVFbycpKG3YiOqP3Mx2Gf-uAQnYH76Cpg0ytl2kFmiLZWGw4Irq34iWHfuil5UTm4g8lu/s1600/DCP_3946.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489226919399429762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPiYnNP5ExABaZEYAdc049nZCqiHoBlxE1-du-Vd1FN_bX82kXFKrA0nXtbn7l5QGlX4Nih4lpVFbycpKG3YiOqP3Mx2Gf-uAQnYH76Cpg0ytl2kFmiLZWGw4Irq34iWHfuil5UTm4g8lu/s320/DCP_3946.JPG" /></a> <div></div><br /><div>I used to panic that he'd lose it and never be able to sleep again. I would ask family and friends who were flying to "pick-up" a blanket or two on their flights for use as back-up. </div><br /><div></div><div></div><br /><div>Did you know that there's a difference in airline blankets? Yup, neither did I. But I tell you what.. my son knew and <strong>knows. </strong>His blanket is his blanket for better or worse and it works for him.</div><div> </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLGuExYUiTYivPZUadoMZ2ywQ7tlvoHY_AVKtUtr8tk2vliUdHu_P1amCqHdVRD6pqkUkDQvb1jBjRFwOE3YsCEAjgDb5wv6Nble4cvxpDRSWSmSI_YwW5b4_BCmP8_i90ANb8q5N3yC-/s1600/100_9323.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489225194214701970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLGuExYUiTYivPZUadoMZ2ywQ7tlvoHY_AVKtUtr8tk2vliUdHu_P1amCqHdVRD6pqkUkDQvb1jBjRFwOE3YsCEAjgDb5wv6Nble4cvxpDRSWSmSI_YwW5b4_BCmP8_i90ANb8q5N3yC-/s200/100_9323.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZApwTG3zjKsamtgN2RFFQ7qlB00Y4RVjrKEdBiEFjzuIVqp5iuTepTssPNSYvp3knOc5mLbbZuueT_bYKkbCmxnoAHc4Y2UfYmds-7rm4T74tshjjSV93rg2UlEVc2weZhJ7pzWDbB9db/s1600/100_8053.JPG"></a></div><br /><div>Now <strong><em>I</em></strong> on the other hand....</div><div></div><br /><div>I received my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">snuggie</span> as a borderline joke gift this Christmas. I was complaining, as usual, about how cold I was. </div><br /><div>But.... here's the thing....</div><br /><div>When you complain via <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Facebook</span>... you get results.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The next thing I know, not even an hour after posting my discomfort, a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">snuggie</span> arrives at my front door.</div><div></div><br /><div>(Thank you Lisa!)</div><br /><br /><div>Now, for those of you who may not know, the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">snuggie</span> lives up to the hype.</div><br /><div>It DOES keep you warm!</div><br /><div>It DOES keep your hands free!<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpI93jXCDI9iWLAFxhCGkzf3Kz1Qnkp5bV7pDUdwH-FcOP-Hvmxb5FuAaEaYrMpeymXQrz5YWREwW-hrJqRlOeQEN4A8OFopOtFGnXmm-wnJzsvh1hrTf4cgB1qwd-UJEBT6DIEKJVxWZC/s1600/snuggie.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 362px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489213744305528386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpI93jXCDI9iWLAFxhCGkzf3Kz1Qnkp5bV7pDUdwH-FcOP-Hvmxb5FuAaEaYrMpeymXQrz5YWREwW-hrJqRlOeQEN4A8OFopOtFGnXmm-wnJzsvh1hrTf4cgB1qwd-UJEBT6DIEKJVxWZC/s320/snuggie.jpg" /></a></div></div><br /><div>and it IS addicting</div><br /><br /><div>It's not the warmth factor that got me.<br /><br /></div><div>It's the damn <strong>tag</strong>.</div><br /><div>Oh my gosh. It's like crack cocaine.</div><br /><div>I swear it's why I'm not sleeping!</div><br /><div>I don't even wear the dang thing anymore! I just hang onto the sleeve and run it through my fingers.</div><div>Over and over and over again.</div><div></div><br /><br /><div>My son, who's eight, has the good sense to put his blanket aside to fall asleep. But I can't let go!</div><br /><div>I'll have to see if there's a 12-step program for this one.</div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcB-FIFZYWn90sH39m6l9COI1V_eVx9iIhVN-aOnZWudHQMtDuZzSgi0iInK41FIYjOdCjlzmehzX6E3-j1lgNwljiMx7owOMTISwydu9ohR9Er_nl3h6O8YQ-1UPSDaF4E6m8b6y1CUf/s1600/IMG_0785.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489225658054148482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcB-FIFZYWn90sH39m6l9COI1V_eVx9iIhVN-aOnZWudHQMtDuZzSgi0iInK41FIYjOdCjlzmehzX6E3-j1lgNwljiMx7owOMTISwydu9ohR9Er_nl3h6O8YQ-1UPSDaF4E6m8b6y1CUf/s200/IMG_0785.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-82034050294724210042010-07-01T02:34:00.008-05:002010-07-01T03:16:53.019-05:00Paulette the menace to society<div></div><br /><div>Ummmm... Hello...... My name is Amy....... don't know if you remember me or not. It's been a while.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Sheesh! A while is an understatement!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I am actually being shamed into blogging again by someone in New Hampshire... (you know who you are, BRIAN). He used the classic combination of flattery and smack-down all in one. So, here we are...</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>One of the reasons I stopped writing was due to 'circumstances' beyond my control. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>One of our friends was in a horrible car accident just after New Years and I took on the responsibility of keeping a daily blog as to his status and progress for about 3+ months. I have learned more than I ever hoped to know about brain injuries. If you want to read his amazing story, you can check it out at: <a href="http://stacytempleton.wordpress.com/">stacytempleton.wordpress.com</a> If you start from the very bottom you can see what a journey he and his family have had to take this year. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>As for our little corner of the world, the kids are great (I think). I dunno... I haven't seen them in weeks! They are doing the 'Camp Buelo' thing. The in-laws offered to take the kids for a couple of weeks.... and I have YET to offer to take them back!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>God love 'em... they ALL sound exhausted. :)</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I just got back from a visit to New Hampshire.</div><br /><div>An entire week with the folks.</div><br /><div>Just me.</div><br /><div>and them.</div><br /><div>and the dog.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Paulette, the dog, has mixed feelings about me. </div><br /><div>Granted, I'm fun, but <strong>damn</strong>, I rocked her world when I showed up there at my folks' house. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>They've all settled in to a comfortable routine and she is the alpha leader. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I, on the other hand, am Queen Bee, and will bow to no one, man NOR beast.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>We had a struggle, needless to say.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The bitch bit me.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><em>'What did you DO to her, Amy?' my mom says.</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>'Nothing, Ma.... she just whirled around and got me!'</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>'I find that very hard to believe... that she would do that... she's a good girl'</em></div><br /><div>(which apparently, I, as her first-born, am not)</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I've known for quite some time that I was not the favorite child. I've come to terms with that. But now I rank <em>below</em> the damn dog. Wow!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Friggin' Paulette. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I guess I should mention that she comes up to about mid shin and weighs in at 17 lbs. </div><br /><div>Doesn't make her any less of a bitch though!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB5ydAO6VhcyYA129C78fPp1RFVZCqfrboQ8FQrp7h1oeRnc_7ARowxky0aOyzIJDcWAydnqRfRbITQh5sKOmGZiiR18W9JgW6XBZzfpH0pRk13XQKf2kRINXly66dJ7dGF-6wwNZMjbul/s1600/Picture_0007.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488846606415377874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB5ydAO6VhcyYA129C78fPp1RFVZCqfrboQ8FQrp7h1oeRnc_7ARowxky0aOyzIJDcWAydnqRfRbITQh5sKOmGZiiR18W9JgW6XBZzfpH0pRk13XQKf2kRINXly66dJ7dGF-6wwNZMjbul/s400/Picture_0007.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>Look what this vicious thing is doing to that poor teletubbie. </div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-76269582644915246112009-11-17T14:22:00.009-06:002009-11-17T14:49:16.624-06:00AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWhat have I done?<br /><br />Apparently the chaos of home hasn't been quite hectic enough.<br /><br />Let's throw a road trip into the mix!!! <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Yeee</span> Haw!<br /><br />*sigh*<br /><br />Yup, I've gone and done it now...<br /><br /><br />I booked tickets for the kids and I to go to New Hampshire in December for five days... FIVE...... and NO, that's not a typo... the kids and I..... nope, no spouse.<br /><br /><br />Holy crap... (actually, i accidentally typed 'holly' crap - which is kinda funny, but i digress)<br /><br />Two fun filled days of travelling with two children who subscribe to the belief of 'perpetual motion' -<br /><br />Along with 3 fun filled days in an 800 square foot house that is sure to be missing the 'necessary' child friendly babysitting options (i.e. video games, movies, television, computer, etc.)<br /><br />And... BONUS... it's New Hampshire... so it's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">freakin</span>' COLD!<br /><br /><br />again... *sigh*<br /><br />This is how my children were dressed the last time we went up North...... in AUGUST - they were freezing then.. how are they going to be in DECEMBER? <br /><br />*sigh*<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGs86u5THIvOHnoABq2bpaV7HDt5VeAuD4ExIcXBhdoam9GE2MNH6PODzXxSNqGggijcK_a2t5sVjsXFv_yo4-HFIB2SkNUa4UuxtTm4Awzk895UAFaG3Jb_emoJqfTxYzQfbHfg2EOF7L/s1600/100_6671.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405174737778240450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGs86u5THIvOHnoABq2bpaV7HDt5VeAuD4ExIcXBhdoam9GE2MNH6PODzXxSNqGggijcK_a2t5sVjsXFv_yo4-HFIB2SkNUa4UuxtTm4Awzk895UAFaG3Jb_emoJqfTxYzQfbHfg2EOF7L/s320/100_6671.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>And this is them just after we landed and got into the rental car on our last trip to New England. </div><div> </div><div> They look so cute, don't they?</div><div> </div><div>Looks can be <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">deceiving</span>.</div><div> </div><div>Allison had just thrown up because she ate too much crap that we threw at her to keep her quiet on the plane. Danny had just gotten through with his dry heaves because his sister had just finished throwing up in the rental car and his stomach strength leaves a little to be desired.</div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMTx7M5Yd_XHwxDJUhnwUJcP0Mmwt3qndXS0t6KL9dU5CIwKumGLZvjXqubjbMeQP2zSq5ivgeTVyTIx_6G9UDK4NYUs69XmI0P1BsNPDgotMgMI9dmpnd5DdZDtGhmMdOIqX4nYq9Dvt/s1600/100_6677.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405174747267697586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMTx7M5Yd_XHwxDJUhnwUJcP0Mmwt3qndXS0t6KL9dU5CIwKumGLZvjXqubjbMeQP2zSq5ivgeTVyTIx_6G9UDK4NYUs69XmI0P1BsNPDgotMgMI9dmpnd5DdZDtGhmMdOIqX4nYq9Dvt/s320/100_6677.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTXEmVskBANVDLBk4E-ZQoyVbcZtYj0cxZWSRZXjlT_w8ifz3cdHRJ3DIJzIJvt78-ZXGvLI2BzgdqXDsZP4OAy6vfC_4vuWb9O_MaoVC07mbotRj3Rj15Z_aP0JFQIHycI7iwOip8jc-Z/s1600/100_6676.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405174744788795234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTXEmVskBANVDLBk4E-ZQoyVbcZtYj0cxZWSRZXjlT_w8ifz3cdHRJ3DIJzIJvt78-ZXGvLI2BzgdqXDsZP4OAy6vfC_4vuWb9O_MaoVC07mbotRj3Rj15Z_aP0JFQIHycI7iwOip8jc-Z/s320/100_6676.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>*sigh*</div><div> </div><div>Watch out Mom and Dad - you're in for five days of fun!<br /><br /><br /></div><div></div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-86060114177820936992009-11-04T13:47:00.008-06:002009-11-04T14:15:32.532-06:00Overwhelmed?Do you ever just feel completely overwhelmed?<br /><br />Every once in a while I just lose it entirely. It's like my eyes are suddenly opened to the true amount of chaos in my world.<br /><br />...and it ain't pretty.<br /><br />I know that you're supposed to just take one thing at a time and consider it an accomplishment, but man... when the projects all seem monumental it's hard to really wrap your head around it.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigi0kfEdK8k4-JbCN1ikNdVNNdBu-idIhh9hqn7qRLQhaX8Owpt7FCBWj4PPdAIgnlGB00-Ts_vJuJqh7bVrjzFzhG-h_gGEI-_PAX_ciZiWeGHC3kwUCUNai6WPBpmU0BgbU1ySia1FZG/s1600-h/IMG_0230.JPG"></a><br /><br />It seems like there's always <em>little</em> things that get in the way of beginning the BIG things.<br /><br />As I stand at my back door looking out into the yard (which everyone else in the neighborhood can see as well) all I can do is *sigh* and back away from the door. There is just so much to do!<br /><br />fences to be mended<br />gates to be power washed, sanded and painted<br />landscaping to be done<br />lawn to be cut<br />rubbish/debris to be removed<br /><br />*sigh*<br /><br />So what do i do??? Do I take the initiative, roll up my sleeves and start working?<br /><br />No<br /><br />I play Bejewled.<br /><br />(I am rolling my eyes as I type this)<br /><br /><br />You know what???? This is what I'll do.... I'm going to post a 'BEFORE' picture of my backyard.<br /><br />Then, perhaps, I can be shamed, (whooops sorry, I meant to say MOTIVATED! Yay!!) into accomplishing something -<br /><br />Keep your fingers crossed that the 'AFTER' picture doesn't look worse!<br /><br /><br /><br />Good lord, I just went out to take the pictures and now I'm really in panic mode!<br />Any advice is much appreciated.<br />ugh.<br /><br />~of course we can always hope for rain! (she says hopefully!!!)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoh4Y-ETtVI5NkdcTyTIQYhGd-tkZVhWM30lcPX9RFIqlUOj0iDLZPgdi2I4kp2aEOjvnEpdc56A0IreXw95qVi25yYVANs56zE1M6d7RZB51ZHGXYNaUfyKxrqkxoW1zWMYSXV5a-CZMh/s1600-h/IMG_0233.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400343586182097842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoh4Y-ETtVI5NkdcTyTIQYhGd-tkZVhWM30lcPX9RFIqlUOj0iDLZPgdi2I4kp2aEOjvnEpdc56A0IreXw95qVi25yYVANs56zE1M6d7RZB51ZHGXYNaUfyKxrqkxoW1zWMYSXV5a-CZMh/s200/IMG_0233.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNEgDN2I-j5GFXNrBYm0VbAvGnaBSTvFI2MRLSct10953Biq25Er0ztN32PBqFCUYwe-O7Eo2FijciNLtk_JLoC8q1dowlqWALr-7cCq1LFnh-6znx5kejRfbIKcBo-ccrODhSVmYZOtFc/s1600-h/IMG_0231.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400343583075518530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNEgDN2I-j5GFXNrBYm0VbAvGnaBSTvFI2MRLSct10953Biq25Er0ztN32PBqFCUYwe-O7Eo2FijciNLtk_JLoC8q1dowlqWALr-7cCq1LFnh-6znx5kejRfbIKcBo-ccrODhSVmYZOtFc/s200/IMG_0231.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurXs3caMq2rPrLYK1BgZwXo7tspJVDnErt_xGibQSGMmJ4Xd8mVBllq3I4m5qoNyxUP1mRsoI1lSlElPvgVe5HenGw6anF2vrqUz_dEVLCwBdM1HlSS05lb9_9Nb1m2gsutR155jEXqdS/s1600-h/IMG_0234.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400343591877712706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurXs3caMq2rPrLYK1BgZwXo7tspJVDnErt_xGibQSGMmJ4Xd8mVBllq3I4m5qoNyxUP1mRsoI1lSlElPvgVe5HenGw6anF2vrqUz_dEVLCwBdM1HlSS05lb9_9Nb1m2gsutR155jEXqdS/s200/IMG_0234.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-17483970808236282572009-11-03T20:17:00.007-06:002009-11-03T20:31:35.079-06:00Yet another little epiphanyBlech....<br /><div></div><br /><div>I hate the fact that I am so incredibly passive/aggressive. It's one of those traits where you KNOW your reaction is coming, but dammit... you <em>just can't seem to help it.</em></div><div></div><br /><div>Know what I mean?</div><br /><div>Here's example number one...</div><br /><div>(names changed to protect the guilty)</div><div></div><br /><div>I'm angry today at '<em>someone'.... </em>let's just say for the sake of argument his name is 'Rick' </div><br /><div>so here's the deal. Do I say, 'Rick' I'm angry with you.....</div><br /><div></div><div>oh HELL no....</div><br /><div></div><div>I go and hang out at someone else's house because..... 'that'll show him'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>WTF... really????</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Here's the kicker... 'Rick' doesn't give a wing-ding because 'Rick' isn't home.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So stupid... you have to laugh at yourself.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I do this crap all the time. I get mad and do the<strong> 'I'll show YOU'</strong> routine and end up doing something equally as ridiculous like -not putting the dishes away- oooohhhhhh - impressive!!!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Yup, 20 years of therapy.... </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>..... useless .....</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>But... We had a GREAT Halloween...</div><br /><div>Just look at my monsters!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfcUOKmiLRDAokDmlpHhrxj_eF6TbJF8Rr8S8sLAJlL1EmTLND2mgROMp0d0Gp9abqdJBO2IGaHUqXbep5fGuUEygdjNKWvBC4wKO7TuFwGEh5CM1ZcTluS_1yhQ2p24u_EhMNFrq9tqyw/s1600-h/IMG_0229.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400069547210508866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfcUOKmiLRDAokDmlpHhrxj_eF6TbJF8Rr8S8sLAJlL1EmTLND2mgROMp0d0Gp9abqdJBO2IGaHUqXbep5fGuUEygdjNKWvBC4wKO7TuFwGEh5CM1ZcTluS_1yhQ2p24u_EhMNFrq9tqyw/s320/IMG_0229.JPG" /></a><br /><div>Hopefully we can save them before their teeth rot out of their heads!</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>I'm not going to mention that I snagged all of the Hershey's miniatures (that are now gone)......</div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-44348395233752416452009-10-14T22:16:00.014-05:002009-10-15T08:39:59.338-05:00Whaaat?No no no no no<br /><div><div><div>What do you mean my baby is growing up?</div><div></div><br /><div>no no no</div><div></div><div>My baby boy is going to his first sleep-over on Friday night. </div><div></div><div> </div><div>*sigh*</div><div></div><br /><div>Granted, it's a friend he's had since kindergarten..</div><div>Granted, his Mom is a teacher at our school district</div><div>Granted, he has two older and a younger brother.</div><div></div><div> </div><div>Still.... </div><div>I asked him if he wanted to take Pooplet (see prior posts) and he said 'Mommmm, Puleeze'</div><div>I asked him if he wanted to take his 'blanket' and he said 'of course... and my armadillo too!'</div><div> </div></div><div>I told him that I'd miss him if he went... and <em>again</em> with the 'Mommmm, Puleeze'<br /><br /><div>...my baby... </div><br /><div>again... * sigh*</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Re3hRHkgzCbWxdX1Q-asX3ANf9lr6VWRCKAF7C9BAmDizXbt5HoSoUfj8VtGAmo3qLIIwMlmLQ4RC3oP9wsVmV_-KEZ2o5TIcGpjIccKHg2uIfEMQAosXqe0MNpDVM4e0ZqLHwac-SdB/s1600-h/Picture_0291.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392819919941868386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Re3hRHkgzCbWxdX1Q-asX3ANf9lr6VWRCKAF7C9BAmDizXbt5HoSoUfj8VtGAmo3qLIIwMlmLQ4RC3oP9wsVmV_-KEZ2o5TIcGpjIccKHg2uIfEMQAosXqe0MNpDVM4e0ZqLHwac-SdB/s400/Picture_0291.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Did i mention that Allison apparently gets her 'surliness' from me...</div><div></div><br /><div>case and point...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiffeeo280ZFp6unaW7Fvn53Ypyx7rlaHS7yYfLH14upRRc4jOhEFrcoHCNidtW-KXrEHvlumyppqy2Ue7U2gcqbjiBaD_Ac-l0dWHulO-VrqbHAD5t3OJO1LFqd5hEy6woOMJIPGQhfwgG/s1600-h/3992153616_ed63028f75_b.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 306px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392817555979536258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiffeeo280ZFp6unaW7Fvn53Ypyx7rlaHS7yYfLH14upRRc4jOhEFrcoHCNidtW-KXrEHvlumyppqy2Ue7U2gcqbjiBaD_Ac-l0dWHulO-VrqbHAD5t3OJO1LFqd5hEy6woOMJIPGQhfwgG/s320/3992153616_ed63028f75_b.jpg" /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlKISaehx0hHlPBIFtPp8Ji9cHYIYcU5U-Sp0FbnJCqQdjZeRXLG99n9gc0Z7fuDWjIKg3qqkOlmhrOYzDZB4eTBzbN746QYI8yhFRwNO43r5_xvicFGIXp3alUAiBc79carWKVNh-EWa/s1600-h/surly.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392818065263375698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlKISaehx0hHlPBIFtPp8Ji9cHYIYcU5U-Sp0FbnJCqQdjZeRXLG99n9gc0Z7fuDWjIKg3qqkOlmhrOYzDZB4eTBzbN746QYI8yhFRwNO43r5_xvicFGIXp3alUAiBc79carWKVNh-EWa/s320/surly.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><div>Think I'm in a little trouble here, or what?</div></div></div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-40925931976756515852009-10-09T22:49:00.009-05:002009-10-09T23:20:59.044-05:00Happy Anniversary<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4mLRzmYDBuOFVBPGDar_BtEyftAJFt1-d4md-vXH7bY6uRhm75tUEqVUpL3MXd3RVhYkPZy3gIwS9YNMemNR6vcVcIb63Paqa1X8R5AW3EfS7TlvMFJ4LrLcP_9fjyvL_jBE7ASNejRef/s1600-h/Picture_0130.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390819615904711570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4mLRzmYDBuOFVBPGDar_BtEyftAJFt1-d4md-vXH7bY6uRhm75tUEqVUpL3MXd3RVhYkPZy3gIwS9YNMemNR6vcVcIb63Paqa1X8R5AW3EfS7TlvMFJ4LrLcP_9fjyvL_jBE7ASNejRef/s400/Picture_0130.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL3duD_6F_370RCV6Uo9118NRsk1B6bjlLiq6hzh1GdYuoS-byohyyo29TV9dvB5IRae_Znb62i956UcA95Pzq4loRPmcjkHHuxKaURCdIk3yyQ06nbJ2suylMgl2mPD55ryqJssM_rsPK/s1600-h/rick_ass.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 181px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 193px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390819088823420114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL3duD_6F_370RCV6Uo9118NRsk1B6bjlLiq6hzh1GdYuoS-byohyyo29TV9dvB5IRae_Znb62i956UcA95Pzq4loRPmcjkHHuxKaURCdIk3yyQ06nbJ2suylMgl2mPD55ryqJssM_rsPK/s400/rick_ass.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNjuTpLFKXE2MaNETPJskIL48-Jhy-7YC8q08kDfCOtHvMSJxzJDKT5hq_Ll8P-TdFmNAiPFFsjQ-915UBvUYS_ruCLXlxU5TIBXz8nxHsS54a-JnmR51HU9z_QyUxjkRDZFGm0-gAol8X/s1600-h/7.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390818912341334146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNjuTpLFKXE2MaNETPJskIL48-Jhy-7YC8q08kDfCOtHvMSJxzJDKT5hq_Ll8P-TdFmNAiPFFsjQ-915UBvUYS_ruCLXlxU5TIBXz8nxHsS54a-JnmR51HU9z_QyUxjkRDZFGm0-gAol8X/s400/7.jpg" /></a> <div>Did I mention that I love my husband? </div><br /><br /><div>I'm sure I don't say it enough (does anyone?)</div><br /><br /><br /><div>He's a good guy. No, really.... he's a GOOD guy!</div><br /><div>He puts up with <em>more </em>than his fair share of $hit and never complains. He just nods his head alot and says... 'uh hmmm'</div><br /><div></div><div>That's a bonus.</div><div></div><br /><div>We've been married for 11 years. Eleven. Wow. Even typing that looks funny. I still remember on our wedding day that Father Mario said that we should go out to breakfast (at Denny's) before all of the hullaballoo started and really take stock in what we were doing. FOR....THE...REST....OF...OUR...LIVES...</div><br /><br /><div>Things have changed, things have happened: kids have been born, family members have died, jobs have come and gone - new friends, new houses, new worries, new issues, new hobbies, new trials, new tribulations. Yada, yada, yada. </div><br /><br /><div>One thing has remained the same. </div><br /><br /><div>I love my husband.</div><br /><br /><div>I still get that 'butterfly' feeling in my stomach when I see him and I don't expect to.</div><br /><br /><div>I still marvel at the way he handles the kids - whether they're being good, or bad, or if mama needs a nap.</div><br /><br /><div>I still think he's the smartest person I know... (well... not trivia-wise... that's me)</div><br /><br /><div>I still believe that he can protect me, and Danny and Al from just about anything. Lightning, hurricaines, intruders, Bob Howard.... anything!</div><br /><br /><div>He lets me trim his eyebrows.... I mean really.... How many guys let their women <em>do</em> that?</div><br /><br /><div>He made me a chicken quesadilla for lunch.</div><br /><br /><div>He keeps his mouth shut when I add green beans to dinner - the kids don't even know that he <em>hates </em>them.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLpYJM2MwwMzgqq_RRM118WE9jirhMKn1K3Ai0NvlNO6SYvzlX4hJzZLkG-foc2IpgKxigWh-LaTnbpcwasILL-FDbEzESYpkFiFDwYGX3b3Mq8VqMV88FkQNHfp_6Or5-R23T29UhF3lJ/s1600-h/IMG_0046.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390820809923725074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLpYJM2MwwMzgqq_RRM118WE9jirhMKn1K3Ai0NvlNO6SYvzlX4hJzZLkG-foc2IpgKxigWh-LaTnbpcwasILL-FDbEzESYpkFiFDwYGX3b3Mq8VqMV88FkQNHfp_6Or5-R23T29UhF3lJ/s400/IMG_0046.JPG" /></a><br /><div>He travels with me, even though I'm a psychotic traveler that has no business being on any form of mass transportation.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Last weekend, he stopped watching the Cowboys play (his #1 love... after his family) to film me and the kids making cookies... </div><br /><br /><div>He tries to put my clothes away (even though he's color-blind and I color coordinate everything in my closet)</div><br /><br /><div>He loves me.</div><br /><br /><div>And I've never questioned it.</div><br /><br /><div>He still kisses me every time he leaves the house.</div><br /><br /><div>He still gives me the 'good spot' on the couch.</div><br /><br /><div>He is honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me.</div><br /><br /><div>...and I love him.</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Happy Anniversary Ricardo... (spouse)</div><br /><br /><br /><div>breakfast is my treat this weekend... Looking forward to 50 more years with you, love.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-24909504183099192112009-10-07T09:00:00.009-05:002009-10-07T13:48:28.587-05:00Just so you don't think I'm completely inept<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBELukBKsKSwIwU2go1DWTCd02UCzDnH_bNCw5bodpQ5tmsGBM6Cbbo21OBArBfI91jOdcUGVg-nEZx5Bi0eQGxlJKc2fqneVCLgKYfwwM4wgUmDDY3fTG6sGatzVavIIY16EqBGCnar9R/s1600-h/IMG_0194.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389926462360720002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBELukBKsKSwIwU2go1DWTCd02UCzDnH_bNCw5bodpQ5tmsGBM6Cbbo21OBArBfI91jOdcUGVg-nEZx5Bi0eQGxlJKc2fqneVCLgKYfwwM4wgUmDDY3fTG6sGatzVavIIY16EqBGCnar9R/s400/IMG_0194.JPG" /></a><br /><div>What can I say? the girl LOVES to cook! She's actually great at it. no lie! She made meatloaf last night and it was excellent. Danny says that her meatloaf is his favorite. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGppIlTz3UcCLplKH9781euR_kQ_PAeTOsvhUEnT-vPrzhff08Au5Oupd5b2zLvu80pdDgQCiLDaXUe8McJnR5_BgXs07yshmSXoeGW5JMTA9U_u4LFYU67Q3M1CKs9C9c4M9QJNC8Ddww/s1600-h/IMG_0188.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389926700604414162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGppIlTz3UcCLplKH9781euR_kQ_PAeTOsvhUEnT-vPrzhff08Au5Oupd5b2zLvu80pdDgQCiLDaXUe8McJnR5_BgXs07yshmSXoeGW5JMTA9U_u4LFYU67Q3M1CKs9C9c4M9QJNC8Ddww/s400/IMG_0188.JPG" /></a> </div><div>Just FYI - 7 year old boys don't say things just to make you 'feel good'. He honestly thinks so!<br /></div><div>But... we started <em>young... </em></div><div><br /></div><p>My kids have made so many baked goods in their lifetime. It's amazing we're not all 500 lbs.</p><p><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxrYIVY87nHPb80ICUkuXjBkoFxLEAnB0OorgRRkiC8tEuOOg0Mvu7iHH38IiZqgLMGwgof2y5F46cMtm_ENw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p>and the fun continues!</p><br /><br /><br /><p></p>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-79698400587766061892009-10-06T14:12:00.015-05:002009-10-07T08:54:37.736-05:00Really???Polish up that trophy!<br /><br /><br />Yup, the 'Mother of the Year' trophy is coming my way! I'm SURE of it! There's no question!!<br /><br /><br />Would you like to hear <em>why </em>I'm so confident that I'll be the next recipient????<br /><br /><br />Of course you do...<br /><br /><br />because it will make you that much more positive that even the 'Octo-Mom' is a more able parent than I am....<br /><br /><br />As many of you know, I don't deal well with mayhem, pressure, clutter and randomness...<br /><br />(I have enough little voices in my head that make things confusing enough, so adding to <em>that</em> just results in a complete breakdown and usually assuming the fetal position, beer in hand.)<br /><br /><br />Well... I had no idea that 2nd grade would be this hard. No.... REALLY! I'm not kidding! It's ridiculous! Danny's math abilities have already FAR surpassed mine (to the point that Daddy has to help him with his homework, because, again, Mama assumes the fetal position and cowers in a corner).<br /><br />There's this new crap where they have to figure stuff out in a window pane pattern or some such nonsense<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rh0JgiATWkg">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rh0JgiATWkg</a><br /><br />See???? I told you!!! I did a google search for 'window pane math' and guess what? Cy-Fair ISD is the only one that does it. Lucky me... Lucky, lucky, lucky me...<br /><br />But, I digress... Actually, I don't know why I was even going on that tangent... I guess to add to my argument that the Octo-Mom has me beat...<br /><br />Anyways... Danny comes home from school on Monday, homework in hand, attitude galore, and hiccuping like a crazy drunk hobo. <br /><br />Now, Mondays are stressful around here because after waiting for 45 minutes in car line (the work of the devil, I'm convinced), we need to get home, get homework done, have a snack, get to religious ed, get home and get fed, bathed and brushed and bedded. This is what happens on a "normal" Monday. .. Adding the hiccups to the mix just put us all over the edge.<br /><br />"Mama?" he says...<br />"What Dan?"<br />"I need some hiccup medicine."<br /><br />You may not be aware that there <em>is</em> hiccup medicine. It's all psychosomatic in my household... Here are my options:<br />1. pickle juice<br />2. worcestershire sauce<br />3. lemon juice<br /><br />Any one of these, delivered in a spoon, to a member of my family, shocks the system into forgetting about the hiccups. Really... it works.<br /><br />So in the interest of curing Danny's hiccups *quickly* I gave him a spoonful of pickle juice. <br /><br />"Um, Mama?"<br />"What Dan?"<br />"Um.... hic..... it..... didn't..... hic.... work"<br />"Oh for Pete's sake, Danny.... Here, try this"<br />A spoonful of Worcestershire sauce coming up!<br /><br />Fast forward thirty minutes... Mama has forgotten all about the 'medicine' and is throwing Danny in the car to head to Religious Ed. <br /><br />"Here, have a cookie and a Danimal...." (liquid yogurt, essentially)<br /><br />*My stomach is reeling, just typing this<br /><br />Long story short... well.... you can imagine how green this poor boy was when I picked him up at church.<br /><br />He went right to bed, without dinner, clutching his stomach saying, 'Mama? Why did you <em>make </em>me eat/drink all that? You made me sick."<br /><br /><br />I've got a shelf all ready for my trophy...Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-783129861706070402009-10-03T21:46:00.008-05:002009-10-04T07:50:57.145-05:00Wanna hear something funny?<br /><br /><br /><br />I went to college to be an art teacher... yup. me.<br /><br /><br /><br />For those of you that know me <strong>now</strong>, I'm sure you're making that 'say whaaaat?' face.<br /><br /><br /><br />Not just because I can no longer draw a stick figure, but because I'm (ahem) not very good with children.<br /><br /><br /><br />Yup, it's true. I'm not quite sure where or when it happened. I used to LOVE kids. I used to babysit, coach, hang out with and just enjoy being around kids. Now.... not-so-much.<br /><br /><br /><br />Don't get me wrong... I love <em>my</em> kids. I love my kids friends. I love my friends' kids.<br /><br /><br /><br />But the rest of 'em????? Oh sweet Jesus.... I don't have the strength for them.<br /><br /><br /><br />Now, I know that if this blog 'falls into the wrong hands' it has the potential of making me a social pariah.<br /><br /><br /><br />'What?' 'You don't like kids, you say"<br /><br />'What kind of a monster are you, anyway?'<br /><br />'You should be banished to a 'loft' downtown'<br /><br />'How can you not LOOOOOVE children?"<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm guessing it's a lot like that Bill Cosby skit that has Jeffrey.... 4 years old... on a plane.. if you don't know it, look it up... it's freakin' hysterical.<br /><br /><br /><br />Today, I spent most of the day watching other peoples' kids. By choice? No. By necessity? maybe. Because I felt like <em>someone</em> had to? Yes.<br /><br /><br /><br />I wish I could just let other people parent the way they do and not worry about it. But instead, I take it ALL on. The 'what if's' and the 'Where did they go' and the 'Is he okay' and the 'who's gonna buy him ice cream when everyone else on the street has it, and no adult is here to give him money..." yada, yada, yada.<br /><br /><br /><br />This 'responsible adult' thing really sucks.Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-25404706051900006492009-09-29T21:30:00.007-05:002009-09-30T21:33:34.759-05:00Now what? Indulge me for a moment...The dying process is a period of time when the body begins to shut down and prepare for death. It's an important period of time for the dying person and their loved ones during which they can express their feelings and show their love. It's a time of preparation for the dying person and their loved ones -- preparing for inevitable loss.<br />The actual process may be very quick or happen gradually. Recognizing the signs early and feeling confident in the care you provide can ensure this is a special time.<br /><br /><br /><br />... Special time???? WTF?<br /><br /><br /><br />For any of you that don't know, my dad is dying.<br /><br /><br /><br />It may be quick, it may take a while. As the doctor he saw today said, 'cancer is a very personal thing'.<br /><br /><br /><br />Now, for most people this would be a definite 'boo-hoo' moment. But for me, it's a time of head-scratching and saying, 'huh???'<br /><br /><br /><br />In April, my Dad was diagnosed with Stage III Esophageal cancer. Sucks, huh? Well, here's the kicker... he could have been cured by now. He CHOSE not to be. Yup, CHOSE.<br /><br /><br /><br />How do you process something like that? He has chosen death over life. He has chosen a whole lot of nothing over ME. Over my Mom. Over my brother... Over my kids!<br /><br /><br /><br />How is that even possible?<br /><br />My kids are awesome.<br /><br />Hell, <em>I'M</em> awesome!<br /><br /><br /><br />I know it's HIS decision. I just can't quite understand how he <em>came</em> to that decision.<br /><br /><br /><br />You know, I almost died once. When I was pregnant with Allison I was told to 'get my affairs in order'. I'll never forget <em>that</em> little conversation. My baby boy isn't even two yet, and here they are telling me that I probably won't live through childbirth.<br /><br /><br /><br />Yeah, me! Yeah Rick! Yeah, Danny! Yeah Allison!<br /><br /><br /><br />But here's the deal. No matter what... No matter how... No matter <em>what</em> the circumstance.... I wanted to live...<br /><br /><br /><br />...for my husband<br /><br />...for my kids<br /><br />...for my brother<br /><br />...for my mom<br /><br />...for my dad<br /><br /><br /><br />I couldn't put them through that. I <em>wouldn't </em>put them through that.<br /><br /><br /><br />Why does my dad feel its okay to do this to me, and my mom and my brother and my kids?<br /><br /><br /><br />I guess I'll never understand.<br /><br /><br /><br />But...<br /><br />yup... always a but....<br /><br />I forgive him.<br /><br /><br /><br />it's <em>his</em> choice. it's <em>his</em> life. it's apparently something that's waaay far out of my realm of understanding. And as a very wise friend of mine told me.. Forgiveness is a gift you give someone. You don't wait for a 'return'. You don't wait for a 'thank you'. You simply give a gift and walk away and know that you have done something for someone else. You don't give gifts for yourself. You give gifts for others. Dad, this gift is for you. I forgive you and your decision, no matter how much it hurts the ones that love you. how much it hurts the ones I love.<br /><br /><br /><br />I forgive you and wish you godspeed.Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-86956309563356331172009-09-28T21:51:00.003-05:002009-09-28T21:55:38.626-05:00Okay, this is just funny<div>Can you say 'Deer in a headlight'? Poor guy had his eyes closed for last year's picture so he overcompensated.... Bwahahahahah -- it never gets old!</div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 272px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386717527416243474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbsorkpqAE33ZSy_AR52BPyoApzStbAZUF-QlkfpNpbjOH0bsxQeLhJKDJjbl9ocGfwbtQr_CDTYm_t879b8x6ga48DbhnQLd7BgjsDU1M4XyqZPmVvCcBwmoJvMWgu-BhiOL7-7ixYPTD/s400/deer.JPG" /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-45749826598268396962009-09-26T08:28:00.016-05:002009-09-28T11:15:19.224-05:00Quick quick, there it goes<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBRE7GlRZpo3PnN7cWXGsELhVi7IBwGXTVyGutiwI6t-UFlp_IEUlujuhXXZq4RBXB5n5Zn-Jil0237fg4XREUw9XUXTWKj3mjuSNE9-He-sSn6AEE9-_Zqhb8wAFzKUYsQn0dsevfPrm/s1600-h/allison_5.bmp"></a> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVYKkpdzBYP8jz-7qa5ENTq0JKPPicVN4XlRuLoJySVxMEEF50hAvgZUR_BPeBrUR7hQNI1KIHkeO2K8VNMwYg_qKEsMbQFQvyDzElRgvS2O7bxAYSU17JOTy5rv6PGYIf6b1YTJ1dVgXO/s1600-h/DCP_5050d.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 190px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385767744452335266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVYKkpdzBYP8jz-7qa5ENTq0JKPPicVN4XlRuLoJySVxMEEF50hAvgZUR_BPeBrUR7hQNI1KIHkeO2K8VNMwYg_qKEsMbQFQvyDzElRgvS2O7bxAYSU17JOTy5rv6PGYIf6b1YTJ1dVgXO/s320/DCP_5050d.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVYKkpdzBYP8jz-7qa5ENTq0JKPPicVN4XlRuLoJySVxMEEF50hAvgZUR_BPeBrUR7hQNI1KIHkeO2K8VNMwYg_qKEsMbQFQvyDzElRgvS2O7bxAYSU17JOTy5rv6PGYIf6b1YTJ1dVgXO/s1600-h/DCP_5050d.jpg"></a> </div><div><br /><br /> </div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBRE7GlRZpo3PnN7cWXGsELhVi7IBwGXTVyGutiwI6t-UFlp_IEUlujuhXXZq4RBXB5n5Zn-Jil0237fg4XREUw9XUXTWKj3mjuSNE9-He-sSn6AEE9-_Zqhb8wAFzKUYsQn0dsevfPrm/s1600-h/allison_5.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385772503206924674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBRE7GlRZpo3PnN7cWXGsELhVi7IBwGXTVyGutiwI6t-UFlp_IEUlujuhXXZq4RBXB5n5Zn-Jil0237fg4XREUw9XUXTWKj3mjuSNE9-He-sSn6AEE9-_Zqhb8wAFzKUYsQn0dsevfPrm/s320/allison_5.bmp" /></a></div><br /><div> </div><div>How does it happen? Where does time go? Why is it that it seems to take about 14 hours to get through dinner, but you blink and your baby is no longer a baby. Sure... she's still got the 'baby fat' and the chubby little cheeks, but that's about where the similarities end. Now she's off at school for 8 hours a day. Now she speaks her mind and has opinions and *corrects* me!</div><div><br /></div><div>It's such a wonderful feeling when you fall in love with your kids all over again. You realize what astonishing little people they are. There is actually <em>thought</em> that goes on behind that gaze of theirs. I honestly take them for granted. When they have an off day or are acting up, I am so quick to reprimand and 'correct' - but when it comes right down to it... those days are few and far between. I probably have more 'off' days than they do. </div><div><br /></div><div>Danny is in the process of losing another tooth. He's scared. I don't know why. All I can think of is that it's because his others haven't come in yet. Poor guy is going to look strange when he finally <em>does</em> get teeth. We're going on three years now without front teeth. Thank heaven he's cute!</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTS63xzdZI0ctxv45CNV4MstJNbGSkBtvGX393DOxN2xhV_2CovMaUbp6Ig-PkSKaWLLW-76b9yTXg-_JJPI5zSTeLuoXRzTloybenrllPnwQ8COs4ZgUD_vSxoWG0tQJKiH8B8HC_vbkp/s1600-h/100_5506.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386548834041344530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTS63xzdZI0ctxv45CNV4MstJNbGSkBtvGX393DOxN2xhV_2CovMaUbp6Ig-PkSKaWLLW-76b9yTXg-_JJPI5zSTeLuoXRzTloybenrllPnwQ8COs4ZgUD_vSxoWG0tQJKiH8B8HC_vbkp/s320/100_5506.JPG" /></a><br />I can't even remember when Danny was a baby. It seems like <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">soooo</span> long ago. Too long ago. </div><div>Guess I'll have to give them extra kisses when they get home!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO86Z0NH9aiMTdKFpWOu0JXBmU2XlqTEAWBnafl95YRhWMAvysCqoFzQyi53U3tDnnbo5FN678iKWwKpA7s4ZtrrQ203o_DlASaXD5ErIC2D-UKBn6Ghg_G8croML_4DnVMUobc8dgF2PZ/s1600-h/100e0715.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386549895979559986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO86Z0NH9aiMTdKFpWOu0JXBmU2XlqTEAWBnafl95YRhWMAvysCqoFzQyi53U3tDnnbo5FN678iKWwKpA7s4ZtrrQ203o_DlASaXD5ErIC2D-UKBn6Ghg_G8croML_4DnVMUobc8dgF2PZ/s320/100e0715.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /><br /><div>How does time fly so quickly?</div></div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-14239930942758142132009-09-24T18:38:00.010-05:002009-09-25T21:06:15.115-05:00Out with the old, in with the new!Wow... Almost 10 months have gone by since I last posted. My, how things change.<br /><br />First and foremost... I am now <span style="font-size:180%;">40</span>... Yup... BIG milestone. Hard to even imagine! The spouse surprised me and whisked me away to Vegas for my birthday... that was pretty cool. (wish we came back with some extra cash, but hey... we didn't hit the ATM machine so that was a win/win situation). I'd post some pictures, but they all seemed to end up as the 'hold your arm out and take your own portrait' type.<br /><p align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385588678368759330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizlHUURYOwdcb9QxHvzRAjaLLThkVKSK1X7phiknFseyfGyAVlvLw4PtCM1246AO9MmAueTvKNpGoKLwASa5LKK1sIVRPyBgPSYX1eBSHHWGaEz5Nxe52md9gD_Gv8tDYqWWCLAY8ex7cm/s200/IMG_0089.JPG" /></p><br /><br /><br />I got my 2<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">nd</span> tattoo (with my mother along for the ride this time). Actually she was the 'designated driver' for bunch of drunk fools out celebrating with me! (Thank you girls of Viviene <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Westmoreland</span>!)<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIw27Qp9ltZ6wGtP7_mwuX-DHOOSkjF5s1xL8W0n1gxrh3zGESZEMUkZA3VHBvuefNkdKt4ur6uRVI4FnMoXJNIBkTCMsuLMkVyw8nnoowY0FBrvz8WrwLGfpSF5gbpyOlSL8drfEhlbo/s1600-h/IMG_1811.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385184600940927170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIw27Qp9ltZ6wGtP7_mwuX-DHOOSkjF5s1xL8W0n1gxrh3zGESZEMUkZA3VHBvuefNkdKt4ur6uRVI4FnMoXJNIBkTCMsuLMkVyw8nnoowY0FBrvz8WrwLGfpSF5gbpyOlSL8drfEhlbo/s200/IMG_1811.JPG" /></a>Ma was definitely a good sport about the entire thing. The last tattoo I got was when I was 23<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">ish</span> and I managed to hide it from her for several months... to her credit back then, her only comment was 'Damn it, you little $hit... you DID get one'<br /><br /><br />She's come a LONG way! Now she's aiding and abetting!<br /><br /><br />I think we were *this close* to getting her to get one!<br /><br /><br /><br />A few other new developments in our household... in no particular order....<br /><br /><br />Allison can read.<br /><br /><br />At a 1st+ grade level.<br /><br />She's five and just started <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">kindergarden</span>. I can't spell things aloud anymore because she knows what I'm spelling... That's a BIG deal in this house. Thankfully Danny is oblivious, but Allison is nosy nosy nosy and wants to know EVERYTHING that is going on. I'm trying to use my rudimentary Spanish... but the dang kid knows that too.<br /><br /><br />Danny has discovered girls.<br />My sweet, sweet baby boy is coming home from school with notes from the teacher now... 'Danny had to be asked 2x to keep his hands to himself' and<br />is having issues with self control' -- ugh.<br /><br /><br />He's in 2<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">nd</span> grade for <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">pete's</span> sake. What the heck?!?!?<br /><br /><br />Rick is a rock star.<br /><br />Well.... Rick <em>wants</em> to be a rock star... he just doesn't want all of the drama that comes along with it. It's funny how having a full time job and a family to support causes you to take some responsibility on... As much as he'd love to be out every night 'gigging' - He's finally getting the fact that he's having trouble having it all.<br /><br />Well... and then there's that little thing called football season as well.<br /><br /><br />My mom and dad just moved back to New Hampshire.<br />I guess that's probably the primary reason I haven't blogged in so long.<br />It's been one hell of a year.... But more about THAT later.<br /><br /><br />I'm going to try to ease back into this.. I just got the kids to bed. I just opened a Mich Ultra and I just decided that it's time to watch my shows.<br /><br /><br />It's nice to be back!Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-11226813181116821262008-12-22T08:33:00.007-06:002008-12-22T10:03:02.534-06:00Is it wrong to want a glass of merlot at 8:34 am on a Monday?So it's 8:35 a.m. now, does THAT make it okay????<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />A lot of people get really 'jazzed' up for the holiday season. I am definitely NOT one of them.<br />I see Christmas decorations as 'clutter' - not just in my house, but in my brain.<br />I see the holidays as a colossal waste of money, time and effort. <br /><br />Christmas does not bring out the best in people. Am I just jaded? I swear people get nastier this time of year. I don't know if it's the pressure or just the fact that there are more of them out there. <br />I was at Toys R Us yesterday and you would have thought I was in a war zone. People were fighting over the dumbest things. There was junk EVERYWHERE. I even found something that Allison had asked for from Santa - naturally it was the ONLY one, but it had been battered and bruised and there were pieces missing. I brought it to the front to see if I could get a discount and was number one, DENIED (I guess they can return items for a refund) and number two, TRAMPLED by families with kids in tow. They were vicious about getting to the front of the lines, kids were screaming, I couldn't speak to the manager because she was cleaning up vomit in aisle four and there was a communication barrier between most of the employees and the customers. Fun, fun, fun.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My main goal right now is to not let my kids sense it or think my stress has anything to do with them.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Every morning the kids get up to search for 'Christopher', the elf on a shelf. For those of you wh<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZd6zv80_kWaQbMJbNTUyjJJ2gmcf33mFqr0R8epHc7uQ2bzJHhNdcybCXXyI-HCmb3KT9UJCL2JwE0akuH3rGC3bSMl9Paern5FhLEaJexvJDJn0XhGzpYZDdDrVYtURgI6VehosToFjl/s1600-h/100_0102.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282639273139920802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZd6zv80_kWaQbMJbNTUyjJJ2gmcf33mFqr0R8epHc7uQ2bzJHhNdcybCXXyI-HCmb3KT9UJCL2JwE0akuH3rGC3bSMl9Paern5FhLEaJexvJDJn0XhGzpYZDdDrVYtURgI6VehosToFjl/s320/100_0102.JPG" border="0" /></a>o haven't heard of it, the elf is essentially a spy for Santa and every night it hides in a new place in the house for the kids to find. Christopher is the name that they picked out for him. Christopher has been pretty darn creative with his hiding spots (depending on how much wine he's consumed, I'm assuming). Currently he is residing in a flower vase, with a candy cane, on top of the 'fridge. Yesterday he was ensconced in a plant, tomorrow, who knows... The kids get so excited to try and find him every day. They are hysterical.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Right now they are watching 'Iron Man' - which I know is wholly inappropriate - but Daddy promised that they could see it. Yeah, Daddy. Of course, they are not that 'into' it, as they also have bubble wrap to pop - oh what fun. Yet another reason that Mama wants to get her drink on so early in the morning.<br /><br /><br /><br />Daddy is currently working on a roof down at NASA installing some sort of antenna thing. Naturally the high temp today is going to be 32 with sleet and a wind chill in the 20's. Sweet! He's LOVING life! Tomorrow the temp is supposed to be in the 70's - Houston... gotta love it.<br /><br />The saving grace for my kids right now is that they have my mom here. They just LOVE their Meme. I swear, she's like the baby whisperer. When she puts the kids to bed they actually sleep! I'm NOT going to let her leave in the Spring.....<br /><br />Iron Man just ended and Danny was rocking out to 'Iron Man' by Black Sabbath - there was head banging involved and everything.... too funny - Daddy's boy. Party's over, back to work<br /><br />As my mom would say, 'Merry F&##( Christmas'<br /><br />:-)Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-14009738607102979962008-11-15T18:25:00.012-06:002008-11-16T09:06:58.495-06:00I have NO business being single... let alone a single parent!<div>Sorry for being such a slacker lately but sheeesh....<br /></div><br /><div>Rick has been out of town since Tuesday and it seems as though we have truly gone to 'hell in a hand basket'.</div><div><br />Rick has been working in an alternate universe doing manual labor in Newark (yup, that's Jersey, folks). He's been working installing antennas (antennae?) on top of Continental airlines' terminal to help expedite baggage handling for you and me (the collective 'we') - do you like how I'm embracing change or what???? The only problem is that the poor guy hasn't done manual labor since the day I met him - circa 1993 - and he CERTAINLY hasn't had to do manual labor in conditions where it's "Windy with rain and snow showers. Highs in the low 40s and lows in the upper 20s." - Odds are 2 to 1 that he comes home with a raging case of pneumonia.</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ugr60TAVQjA4R79LfIq8Gx3e90CrlbLv3acpeY0fFeBQ4NxvL5nOqM0s5pKu48uHPheyIku9nqit68sil5Wn7Sm-KS-m_uaz-eOqDo72gmFWdQkCizWc7myTz_-qMsPDd_-AED1w0U_o/s1600-h/Photo-0135.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269051127593879794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ugr60TAVQjA4R79LfIq8Gx3e90CrlbLv3acpeY0fFeBQ4NxvL5nOqM0s5pKu48uHPheyIku9nqit68sil5Wn7Sm-KS-m_uaz-eOqDo72gmFWdQkCizWc7myTz_-qMsPDd_-AED1w0U_o/s200/Photo-0135.jpg" border="0" /></a>Although he was kind of excited the first day (excited enough to take a picture anyway) the excitement has since worn off. The poor guy is weary. He's had a 6:20 am wake up call everyday and has been getting in at 1 and 2 o'clock in the morning. Nope, no typo. The boy has been BUSY!</div><br /><div></div><div>All that being said. He's basically incommunicado, so I'm flying solo here. (and NOT doing a very good job unfortunately).</div><br /><br /><div></div><div>In just the time that Rick has been gone, I've managed to get (and get rid of) a dog -(more about THAT story later). Allison has been reprimanded at school for 'not keeping her clothes on' - Danny is running a fever of 103. My ceiling is hanging on by a thread and I am doing the same. Can you believe my doctor told me no more baths? It's killin' me! So not only am I itching like a flea-ridden cur, I can only take a luke-warm shower - no baths allowed. Madness, I say... Madness! For those of you who may not be aware of my oh so personal situation (you MUST be outside of my zip code) I've been diagnosed with having <em>sensitive</em> skin and guttate psoriasis which is embarrassingly itchy. So far nothing has alleviated it but stress certainly aggravates it. yeah, me!</div><div></div><br /><div>Well... back to the dog thing.... It all started with Laurie and ended with Misty. Long story short we were going to adopt a lab mix, Laurie but... some other folks got her first. </div><br /><div></div><div>So off we go to a shelter and bring home a dog that we thought was part greyhound, part something or other.... Her name is Misty and we got three different stories about HER story. Things like... her owner left for Iraq and had no other family to she was born there to she was a runaway !?!?!?!? </div><div></div><br /><div>Well... the kids fell in love (as did I) and after an overnight debate, we brought her home. Fast forward two days and we find out that she's part pit bull, doesn't like men, is verrrrry protective of me and poor Danny is afraid to move in his own house for fear of the dog.</div><br /><div>Needless to say, Misty went back to the shelter - which, by the way, is a no-kill shelter so we were convinced that she'd find a new forever home.</div><br /><div>*side note* Danny has put Misty's dog tag on his stuffed monkey and sleeps with the damn thing every night - I don't know if he's scarred for life or what....</div><br /><div>Now Allison is concerned that since Daddy has been gone as well..... did I find HIM a new forever home just like Misty??? 'No, Al, Daddy has no such luck.'</div><div></div><br /><div>I just went through our pictures of the dog to post one and apparently I deleted them all.... hmmmmm ... I didn't do it intentionally... hmmmmm... my mind is taking on a life of it's own!!!</div><div></div><br /><div>We did get some good news this week! The folks will be here sometime after turkey day. They're leaving the frozen tundra of northern New England and heading south to the frozen swamplands of southeast Texas. (Can you believe it's 33 degrees as I'm writing this!!!) Hopefully they survive the drive down with each other in a van full of $hit and a doped up geriatric cat with no nose.... wouldn't want to be in THAT vehicle!</div><div></div><br /><div>And then we'll be getting a visit from my dear friend Mrs. Prescott the day after Thanksgiving! She hasn't been to Texas since her infamous visit of 1994 - (Richmond Ave is still reeling from THAT one) but things have changed since then.... :-) We're older now, much, much calmer and have kids (so we can't sleep until noon anymore) Regardless, it'll be an adventure, as it always is when Tray and I get together (even at almost 40).</div><div></div><br /><div>Danny is running a fever still, so he's pretty puny. God love him... he <em>tries</em> so hard to feel better. It's like the mind is willing even if the body ain't. My kids have been blessed with the gift of running ridiculously high fevers. They tend to hallucinate and their eyes roll back in their heads. It's pretty impressive. When you can get a doctor at an emergency clinic to say 'holy crap' - you know you're on to something!</div><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbkJ9mprUqkZoUefrwo-JelOYuULQcrMl5_HwdVmV7C1SBAbCWf3BCpNf9NfSKORKIknP7GgfIiz3zDRHs50s9ItqmWSoBkKXPOfj4g856g-VO50mL_gc5inf3yzrvWXLjEGn_1EPRhyphenhyphenh/s1600-h/alslovenote.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269260337895759026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 249px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbkJ9mprUqkZoUefrwo-JelOYuULQcrMl5_HwdVmV7C1SBAbCWf3BCpNf9NfSKORKIknP7GgfIiz3zDRHs50s9ItqmWSoBkKXPOfj4g856g-VO50mL_gc5inf3yzrvWXLjEGn_1EPRhyphenhyphenh/s320/alslovenote.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div>Allison is in love. I was checking my email on Friday and she asked if she could draw. This is what she "drew" - note that LOVE is underlined... not once - twice. LOVE LOVE - good lord... give me strength. At least Jacob is a nice boy. :-) His mom reprimanded me for putting pop-tarts in Al's lunch kit. I told her to wait until her second born was Al's age... she'd be scrambling for something in the pantry too that wasn't moldy or raw.... I thought I was doing pretty well sending her with a pop-tart instead of a half-eaten box of croutons.</div><div> </div><div>The natives are restless and wanting some breakfast... time to resume my mom duties... </div><div>*note to Ricardo.... HURRY HURRY HURRY!</div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><div></div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-4086599123307071222008-11-01T07:29:00.010-05:002008-11-01T07:50:59.818-05:00As promised...The ALWAYS festive Mama.....<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_A9fZ2kAiKBPKF1M16GgH0q1sj3d3TyygRwo_d6d4-UQ5fzVSeGPn9hgT1JS271PgaX-hH2thwkufiX0SxSN2MpGhTykzCsTbPmx0mMm4qJ9lEUpRfV0-9GB0UHitWppDUoGmKuMLmgpq/s1600-h/100_9618.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263669294235761762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrpYSmPRI7uu-oI2z56vjYoDJzk8xPKXPigs5xJKHC2IFN8i4RApKvNuhOGwP1iq3jdcI9DlEj107P5r2L6x_RQ7LANKiipRPOOOpH8t8L-jXXRnHdt29mdIZr2MIyki0czbTB34iwdWoU/s400/100_9625.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div><div>Okay, my little sugar bugs were up and dancing around early early early today. </div><br /><div>Still on a Halloween high I imagine. Miss Allison was up with me at 3 a.m. discussing the nastiness of mosquitoes as she was scratching away. That was when Daddy decided to come home. Luckily for him, WITH poker winnings... We bandaged Miss Cupcake up and sent her along to bed, I fell back to sleep for a couple more hours and now, here we are. </div><br /><div>Isn't it funny that kids STILL get excited about Saturday morning cartoons? They have access to the junk 24/7 - but Saturdays are still the 'promised land' of crappy <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">TV</span>. They are actually even being quiet and leaving me alone.... (as a choir of angels sings 'hallelujah' in the background)</div><br /><div>I know that the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">grandfolks</span> are dying for pics of the kiddos in their glory for without further ado... here are those: and I will continue with my rants afterwards. If anyone wants to stick around. Does anyone actually read this? or do they just look at the pictures (like playboy?)</div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO5qNx9HiVCkAuZZGE7ILuXWzRgPd4MAOrpihngXgQqWouS9sfqAvHajTa6bY4eKm9N9dCYJQJu6-E55TLxwQ5w8JuORWZrHMGjp8kdM-xfsixHJmg-ZA_AV6T9ZQo3ROb8g7tD9b4SKpd/s1600-h/100_9617.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263668694290986418" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO5qNx9HiVCkAuZZGE7ILuXWzRgPd4MAOrpihngXgQqWouS9sfqAvHajTa6bY4eKm9N9dCYJQJu6-E55TLxwQ5w8JuORWZrHMGjp8kdM-xfsixHJmg-ZA_AV6T9ZQo3ROb8g7tD9b4SKpd/s400/100_9617.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263668830624903074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_A9fZ2kAiKBPKF1M16GgH0q1sj3d3TyygRwo_d6d4-UQ5fzVSeGPn9hgT1JS271PgaX-hH2thwkufiX0SxSN2MpGhTykzCsTbPmx0mMm4qJ9lEUpRfV0-9GB0UHitWppDUoGmKuMLmgpq/s400/100_9618.JPG" border="0" /> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzFnrSnEGDkEhbpfoy_YNQbk-A_8Jian0hk0tA_m5bRwQySgOh5-LIh7Xw1WT4mK9Z1c6y1n6fwc_EHfU_kfjP9BAHWAH9zKfSjYM19C3a_2a0L8RyzRPY_REi_KQeUa2lDpWYKazI-Iy/s1600-h/100_9626.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263667758256363554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzFnrSnEGDkEhbpfoy_YNQbk-A_8Jian0hk0tA_m5bRwQySgOh5-LIh7Xw1WT4mK9Z1c6y1n6fwc_EHfU_kfjP9BAHWAH9zKfSjYM19C3a_2a0L8RyzRPY_REi_KQeUa2lDpWYKazI-Iy/s400/100_9626.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6cv9KpJtTrW6hIVNFMoe9FIY-EXoxdS6ys_SBBsNbslMS6vD9LNmCBTZUZ7NbG7nYu2y93Vz416ywSjtvgggV1QfGLxnkLalZNt20-4WHWPsTAXzvih3wLGb9kRt8KUI9qF74PPR__Ou/s1600-h/100_9619.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263668974403360562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6cv9KpJtTrW6hIVNFMoe9FIY-EXoxdS6ys_SBBsNbslMS6vD9LNmCBTZUZ7NbG7nYu2y93Vz416ywSjtvgggV1QfGLxnkLalZNt20-4WHWPsTAXzvih3wLGb9kRt8KUI9qF74PPR__Ou/s400/100_9619.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oAPVL6kKB6pDVEPOa9Xx5TtwJJqwuaOHNEHw0fKodu4S1rRdhy4Xiw-XMa5OGNVPZhPZnSifnAchU3O1dqOIC0tbs7vxG-9WsQJz-UY40QpifP8S_c_rVNKxozwp4dWkL4gOifWfCzkS/s1600-h/100_9606.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263668313574550914" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oAPVL6kKB6pDVEPOa9Xx5TtwJJqwuaOHNEHw0fKodu4S1rRdhy4Xiw-XMa5OGNVPZhPZnSifnAchU3O1dqOIC0tbs7vxG-9WsQJz-UY40QpifP8S_c_rVNKxozwp4dWkL4gOifWfCzkS/s400/100_9606.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263668529240446274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtlrjjf56_WDaTGA2yvS3SsxA6VRX21b8mEuOVjfD_gEcBfxjVBPy6dihjCumWyV4RyUBu03Lzhgm-yCldrMGZAK6wVCh5bu-wwRRVSJQ8lZKyDF7NMBT1JOqKz0Wu3aLNx-0LYSQ-n_z/s400/100_9608.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div></div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-14854182319284019572008-10-31T20:50:00.004-05:002008-10-31T21:03:14.690-05:00Please forgive the laziness<div>okay, okay, okay... so I discovered <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">facebook</span>.....</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I know, I know.... there are more constructive things to do with my time. But man! it is SO addicting! (or is it addictive?) Either way... it's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">killin</span>' me.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Getting little updates - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">snippits</span>, if you will, about people's comings and goings in their daily lives. It's like being a voyeur... but legal. sorta... I dunno. The entire thing is totally weird to me. I love reading about people doing every day stupid things. I guess I'd rather do that than actually DO the stupid everyday things that I'm SUPPOSED to be DOING. YES! Yet another form of procrastination! Man, I'm good! :-)</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Well, today is Halloween and the kids just got back from trick-or-treating. They came back sugared-up to the hilt. Bouncing off the walls with a stash covering the kitchen table. Literally. Check this out.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4I8aEoKBK-bq1SdV84TUlVe-t9HB-__QAQ80nJY_A32xEFGMh7Wd7EiUmS6OKQDNETke8kTQkw-E06o1VJPHmrDuCCcCwSEk06I_pkl1ANd1VzmoNae44e2Pae19nduyeHEgLkjKJefkS/s1600-h/100_9611.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263502317101850434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4I8aEoKBK-bq1SdV84TUlVe-t9HB-__QAQ80nJY_A32xEFGMh7Wd7EiUmS6OKQDNETke8kTQkw-E06o1VJPHmrDuCCcCwSEk06I_pkl1ANd1VzmoNae44e2Pae19nduyeHEgLkjKJefkS/s400/100_9611.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Rick and I have already picked through and gotten out the stuff that we like. (Parents' <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">prerogative</span> - we rule) and gotten rid of all of the hard candy and junk that we deem as 'bad' (unwrapped crap) and this is what they have left. Crazy, huh? You can see how miserable they are..... </div><div> </div><div>I will be writing more tomorrow and posting more pictures of Danny's field day from school. It was hysterical. He had to 'herd pigs' (no, not real pigs) and i have a general contractor coming to look at my roof and ceiling to see if it can be fixed. - keep those fingers crossed. but for right now, there's a margarita SCREAMING my name and I must run before it wakes my children.... :)</div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-26539240829493520922008-10-23T10:01:00.005-05:002008-10-23T11:16:50.536-05:00I want that, and that, and that, and that, and that....Kids can't watch television anymore without being bombarded with this, that AND the other. <br /><br />As it gets closer to Christmas - (the season apparently starts in August these days) more and more commercials are on with things that the kids just HAVE to have. <br />Naturally it's every piece of crap imaginable. From Pixos (google it, it's stupid) to some kind of 'easy bake oven wannabe' to Power Ranger weapons to My Little Pony to RC cars and 'Swim To Me Puppy' (that's <strong>really</strong> dumb). <br />I think Allison actually saw a harp in a catalog and said that she wanted THAT too. !!?!?!!? <br /><br />*sigh* <br /><br />Every time they say they want something I tell them to write it down to ask Santa. I figure if they can get motivated enough to write down something they want, they must <em>really</em> want it. The other stuff is just fluff that's being shoved in their face by the ad agencies. <br /><br />Needless to say, they've YET to actually write anything down. Too much effort to find a writing utensil apparently.<br /><br />Well, the Army Corp came out today. Poor kid looked like he was about 21 - said this was his first assessment. He had just flown in from Honolulu. He noticed my Red Sox sweatshirt (yes, I'm all bundled up today, it's in the 60's) and we proceeded to chit chat for 20 minutes about the joy of Big Papi and what a jerk Johnny Damon is and how he belongs in NYC. <br />He had gone to MIT and was volunteering here because he had seen so much on TV about the damage. <br />To be truthful, I was kind of embarrassed that I didn't have more damage like a sailboat in my laundry room or something cool. I told him to go and use the resources somewhere else. I could live with my buckets in the living room for a little while longer. Hell, we're not even going to meet our deductible. I told him to go and help out someone with an entire tree in their kitchen. <br /><br />Let's all pray for clear weather until my contractor can make it back.....<br /><br />Took Allison to the doctor on Tuesday. Poor thing not only has mono, but 2 ear infections and a sinus infection to boot! Lucky girl! No wonder she's been so miserable! Who could blame her? <br /><br />I got a phone call from one of the parents of a kid in her class. Apparently my idea of nutrition has caused an uproar in the classroom. When did pop tarts become public enemy number one? So I didn't get to the grocery store over the weekend. So what if she had Ding Dongs, Pop Tarts, a juice box, Frito's, Twizzlers and a somewhat iffy apple. At least I tried. I explained to the other Mom that by child #2, your ideals become a little less 'strict', shall we say. <br /><br />Heck, I'm just happy that I haven't killed that child yet. We're doing A OK! <br /><br />*Note to Mom, I took my meds today* :-) (while giving a thumbs up)Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-78277747504251000602008-10-20T21:27:00.003-05:002008-10-20T21:43:52.905-05:00Is anybody even reading this or am I doing this for my health?When did I get old?<br /><br />It's just not fair. <br />Now that I can stay up as late as I want.... I'm tired and I want to go to bed. <br />Now that I can eat ice cream for dinner.... I don't want to gain weight.<br />Now that I don't have to clean my room... I'm embarrassed if I don't.<br />Now that I can watch R rated movies.... they bore me.<br /><br />What the hell?<br /><br />I went grocery shopping tonight and finished up just as it was getting dark. 'Gimme Shelter' by the Rolling Stones came on the radio as I was driving home and I was thinking... "I should really hurry up - nothing good ever happens after dark". Good Lord. Who Am I? <br /><br />Is this the same person that used to drink a 12 pack daily? At a bar? Where everyone knew my name? And they certainly didn't expect me to leave before closing time! <br />We used to work from 5 am until 8 pm go out drinking until 1 - 1:30 am and get up and do it all again. DAILY. <br />I've ridden on motorcycles at 100 mph. I've gotten a tattoo. I've gone to NYC by myself. I moved to Texas from NH with $100 in my pocket. I've hitchhiked. I've lived in my car. I've been on road trips to foreign countries and stayed with people we didn't know. I've been in the 'kill zone' of a SWAT team. I've been in the back of a cruiser (more than once). <br />True, all of these things make me borderline stupid... but.... why am I so squirrelly now? <br />Hurry up and get home before dark? What in the hell is that? Is it getting old? Or is it being a Mom?<br />Is it wanting to be here to protect them or to be here to catch them doing all of the things that YOU did?<br /><br />BTW - The Patriots are trying their damnedest to make up for the Red Sox loss last night and keep all of New England out of a deep dark depression. Thank you Pats.Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-22639635173970976502008-10-18T07:54:00.015-05:002008-10-18T10:39:49.052-05:00Remember when?Remember back in the days when we had our teddy bears? Weren't they named something really creative like 'teddy'? <div><div><br /></div><div>I honestly don't think I had a stuffed animal that was an absolute <em>favorite - </em>at least none that I can remember. I know that I always <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">loooooved</span> the satin edges on blankets and the little triangles that were made from the stitches... still love them to this day. Can't explain it. Just a tactile thing, I guess. Anyway... I digress, yet again..... surprise!</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, both of my kids have a favorite stuffed animal. Danny has had his for a long time - Al's has been <em>around</em> for a long time, but has only become her favorite for about the last year or so. Danny also has a bonus blanket that sleeps with him - (he'd DIE if he knew I was talking about this) The funny thing is that he got this blanket when we flew up to New Hampshire before Al was even born. Our flight had been delayed going from Houston to Atlanta so we missed our connection to New England - They put us on another flight from Atlanta to Hartford and proceeded to separate all three of us. Rick was in 10B, very pregnant Amy was in 27F and not-even-two year old Danny was in 44J - Brilliant, eh? Needless to say, we paid the extra $50 for the upgrade and all moved on up to 1st class. All that being said - Danny got an airline blanket - which promptly became HIS blanket - and he hasn't let go of it since. He loves the thing! We've tried to get him backups, but he knows the difference... apparently this was the 'holy grail' of airline blankets. God love him, at least it was sorta free.... But... once again... I digress... Here are the stuffed animals in question... any thoughts on their names?</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_f0Z3g0-217dkyETqkJDbfbLfmnF1Lyj0xQwdCHjNCFp4x78J_OShAGf9ugry5lZj0nP8hy9ErTO2OKSzYSAr5iMAYcYT-cZUZDQ362Z-DErWbC38DFw8BRQ-sTbrX8E9dcxfPB8JaA0u/s1600-h/100_9435.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258510565970662402" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="208" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_f0Z3g0-217dkyETqkJDbfbLfmnF1Lyj0xQwdCHjNCFp4x78J_OShAGf9ugry5lZj0nP8hy9ErTO2OKSzYSAr5iMAYcYT-cZUZDQ362Z-DErWbC38DFw8BRQ-sTbrX8E9dcxfPB8JaA0u/s400/100_9435.JPG" width="362" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div></div><div>Okay, I'm going on the assumption that no one was able to *guess* - unless you have insider information (grandparents). The Boxer (who would buy that for a newborn baby girl????!?!?) is named Lucia and the Monkey is named <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Pooplet</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>How many of you guessed correctly?</div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah. I thought so.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>Does this mean my kids are slightly off center? or gifted and talented? I'd love to think it's the latter, but their gene pool suggests the former.</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>I remember as a kid having a guinea pig that we named Kathy (with a K, of course) because THAT was our <em>favorite</em> name. When my brother and I played house as kids we'd fight over who got to be Kathy. Mind you, my brother is now 6'1" and 225 lbs., plays rugby and has a questionable moral compass, but <strong>dammit</strong> at the time he wanted to be KATHY!</div><div><br /></div><div>*you know I am going to get bruises for typing that, but it is just<em> so worth it</em> to have it in print for all to see*</div><div></div><div>My mom bought the kids some souvenirs from her trip overseas which they immediately put on this morning. She also sent some of her souvenir cups from all of her cocktails from the ship - as you can see from the photos - my children knew exactly what to do - They do their Mama proud. :-)</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EBfuZ-HJZUU_ugv8yQhPPGdBq7UBWdibcXVdrKggNSVb4lLJ1lU_kaqS9bvggKYjdtZJmbsqVi4PxbmU_Qjzaggfji2WF0BlJdHBNTcCQ1xzbppDhVT_5Q768CcvloVd3XYbTmdQuJ5o/s1600-h/100_9441.JPG"></a></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9cwZowL3U5XMLFSvVOBee_eRKYhtJgl3NF6nKeeu0V6tfEjVJL6QgXjHip9GbAFMa-BKUkpH0uOe_zcmHe9XW9OEUnI2nwjcKlL7I5ouFq6iix-aZA1IgV9YQfOlXkoECbXjJH9eALeR/s1600-h/100_9439.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258514395949495650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9cwZowL3U5XMLFSvVOBee_eRKYhtJgl3NF6nKeeu0V6tfEjVJL6QgXjHip9GbAFMa-BKUkpH0uOe_zcmHe9XW9OEUnI2nwjcKlL7I5ouFq6iix-aZA1IgV9YQfOlXkoECbXjJH9eALeR/s320/100_9439.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EBfuZ-HJZUU_ugv8yQhPPGdBq7UBWdibcXVdrKggNSVb4lLJ1lU_kaqS9bvggKYjdtZJmbsqVi4PxbmU_Qjzaggfji2WF0BlJdHBNTcCQ1xzbppDhVT_5Q768CcvloVd3XYbTmdQuJ5o/s1600-h/100_9441.JPG"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EBfuZ-HJZUU_ugv8yQhPPGdBq7UBWdibcXVdrKggNSVb4lLJ1lU_kaqS9bvggKYjdtZJmbsqVi4PxbmU_Qjzaggfji2WF0BlJdHBNTcCQ1xzbppDhVT_5Q768CcvloVd3XYbTmdQuJ5o/s1600-h/100_9441.JPG"></a></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EBfuZ-HJZUU_ugv8yQhPPGdBq7UBWdibcXVdrKggNSVb4lLJ1lU_kaqS9bvggKYjdtZJmbsqVi4PxbmU_Qjzaggfji2WF0BlJdHBNTcCQ1xzbppDhVT_5Q768CcvloVd3XYbTmdQuJ5o/s1600-h/100_9441.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258514586329236850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EBfuZ-HJZUU_ugv8yQhPPGdBq7UBWdibcXVdrKggNSVb4lLJ1lU_kaqS9bvggKYjdtZJmbsqVi4PxbmU_Qjzaggfji2WF0BlJdHBNTcCQ1xzbppDhVT_5Q768CcvloVd3XYbTmdQuJ5o/s320/100_9441.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EBfuZ-HJZUU_ugv8yQhPPGdBq7UBWdibcXVdrKggNSVb4lLJ1lU_kaqS9bvggKYjdtZJmbsqVi4PxbmU_Qjzaggfji2WF0BlJdHBNTcCQ1xzbppDhVT_5Q768CcvloVd3XYbTmdQuJ5o/s1600-h/100_9441.JPG"></a></div></div>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-54197206106388401922008-10-16T15:29:00.008-05:002008-10-16T17:57:45.382-05:00Why would anyone want to run for office?<div><div>I just don't get it.</div><br /><div></div><div>There's no way in blazes that I could have run for office or even <em>married</em> someone who wanted to run for office. Especially now in the days of technology where you can't even go to the bathroom without worrying that you're being videotaped on someones cell phone. How would these pictures look if you were the 'first-lady to-be'?</div><br /><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257885938672040114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfpTzbwzuTXqAoNWoY_d6ia-v2haN5CWiYW1eDKhjDqnpUe_FiyecoSKmkz00GlXxCv3OmTP7yweHhi-GyReaCNBgL7iqshdKmw9Zqf4Ygv91BapuQ2Z2Q2dMF-sOseOCYbqmFDLeiY_SX/s320/100_7134.JPG" border="0" /></div></div><br /><p>Yup.... That's a tube top that says... "Delicious" </p><p>Straight out of Walmart. Does it get any better than that? </p><p>Wait... Yes, yes it does get better than that.... case and point.... </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257886804017996946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMEUSpKWLDRTXldjTxB9Z9JH_BWomwRjI6iZnAp_UWR-_u7-Ucr8EUiTjuV5V98cCWl9Lh9J-O1jdIPrTt5Oox6O2vo0bEQ898NPE8Z9ezpgmBLykcVzMsLb5MBjnTGk0p-Ku7EBJ443ww/s320/100_7126.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p>Have you ever seen so much electric blue eyeshadow in this decade in YOUR LIFE?????</p><p>Granted, it was for a 'white trash' party - but unfortunately we found our costumes straight out of our own closets. *sigh* The same crowd has a Halloween party coming up. Can't wait to see what a debacle THAT turns out to be. Thankfully, we've all found our calling in life, and public office doesn't seem to be a part of any of it!</p><p>Update on the roof leak. Last night I was coming downstairs from reading to the kids and was bipped in the head by a drip of water... mind you it <em>was </em>raining.... but the stairs are covered by the attic.... uh oh... apparently our a/c condenser has decided that it wants a piece of the action as well. So here we go with ceiling wet spot #5 - pretty awesome, huh? Love it!</p><p>Still waiting on the general contractor to make an appointment to come out to see us - </p><p>still waiting on the a/c guys to call back to make an appointment to come out to see us - </p><p>still waiting for my meds to kick in... </p><p>still waiting for the kids to go to bed. </p><p>Still waiting to win the lotto. </p><p>Yada, yada, yada. and so it goes... </p><p>at least I'm not running for office!</p>Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-2243737845089201322008-10-14T13:04:00.004-05:002008-10-14T13:31:11.262-05:00Plunk, plunk, plunkWhy oh why, didn't it rain on Friday?<br /><br />Ugh... Yup... You guessed it. We just got rain for the first time since Ike made his guest appearance in South East Texas. <br /><br />Al came running in.... 'MAMA... MAMA! Dere is WATAH comin in da HOUSE!!!!'<br /><br />Naturally it couldn't just come through the ceiling... no. no. no. too easy... the light fixture is the only way to go! So now it looks like I've got to get a roofer, a sheetrocker, a pattern guy, because of course my ceiling has some sort of stupid texture on it, a painter AND an electrician (where's Skyline Electric when I need it?) (that's a private joke for YOU, Mom :-)<br /><br />Here's the kicker.... I'm not sure what our deductible is. We have two different ones. One for Windstorm and Hail ($2350) and once for Tropical Cyclone ($4700) - Of course you know which one the insurance company is going to call it!!!!! Ugh.<br /><br />The reason I wished that it had rained on Friday is because we went and 'donated' all of our money to the Coushatta tribe over the weekend. For those of you in New England, you can relate it to donating to the Foxwoods or Mohegan Sun complexes. :-(<br /><br />To celebrate our ten year anniversary, Rick and I got the bright idea that it would be fun to go and steal some money from the tribe and run back home... yeah, right.... they took our money, comp'ed us a $15 breakfast and called it a weekend. We had a good time though, it was nice to get away and have some grown-up time. The in-laws had a great time spoiling the hell out of the kids and unfortunately for ALL of us, reality has set in.<br /><br />Mom just got home from her trip abroad. I asked her what her very favorite thing that she saw was. (Mind you, she went to Barcelona and all over Italy). <br /><br />She says.... 'the mosaics in Pompeii.'<br /><br />I said, 'really? were they breathtaking?' <br /><br />she said, 'oh there were all types of penises'<br /><br />Yup.... no lie.... even before discussing the Vatican.... Penises in Pompeii... God Bless her.....<br /><br />Okay, enough fun... gotta do research to see what the hell I need to do to get FEMA out here and get some food stamps or something. Your government dollars at work! Wee hoo!Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5914186873189773665.post-26156149876887405802008-10-08T13:17:00.004-05:002008-10-08T13:27:43.514-05:00How to tell if you've been married too long....Got this story from a friend of mine... <br /><br />I'm posting this in honor of our ten year wedding anniversary... here's to you, honey! :-) <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">xoxoxo</span><br /><br />Three women friends, one in a casual relationship, one engaged to be married and one a long-time wife, met for drinks after work.<br /><br />The conversation eventually drifted towards how best to spice up their sex lives. After much discussion, they decided to surprise their men by engaging in some S&M role playing.<br />The following week they met up again to compare notes.<br /><br />Sipping her drink, the single girl leered and said, 'Last Friday at the end of the work day I went to my boyfriend's office wearing a leather coat. When all the other people had left, I slipped out of it and all I had on was a leather bodice, black stockings and stiletto heels. He was so aroused that we made mad passionate love on his desk right then and there!'<br /><br />The engaged woman giggled and said, 'That's pretty much my story! When my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">fiancé</span> got home last Friday, he found me waiting for him in a black mask, leather bodice, black hose and stiletto pumps. He was so turned on that we not only made love all night, he wants to move up our wedding date!<br /><br />The married woman put her glass down and said, 'I did a lot of planning. I made arrangements for the kids to stay over at Grandma's. I took a long, scented-oil bath and then put on my best perfume. I slipped into a tight leather bodice, a black garter belt, black stockings and six-inch stilettos. I finished it off with a black mask, ready for action.<br />When my husband got home from work, he grabbed a beer and the remote, sat down and yelled<br /><br />'Hey, Batman, what's for dinner?'<br /><br />*the irony is that I got this joke from my friend, Robyn*Yankee Sistahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08426262392697995404noreply@blogger.com0