If you're selling your house, or thinking about selling your house, you need to check out the series of blog posts my friend Tina is writing!
Scene: Dylan and I are watching a Tivo'd episode of CBS Sunday Morning.
The story is about a stuntman/women show in Omaha, NE. The featured stuntman is "Spanky" - a middle age man who climbs in a car, gets lifted by a crane 100 feet in the air with the nose of the car pointed straight down, and is then dropped onto a pile of cars below in a loud explosion of crushed steel and fireworks. He's pulled out of the car dazed, and likely suffering a concussion.
I'm thinking "What is wrong with people? That is so stupid. Why would someone do that? And even more worrisome, why would all those people in the audience spend good money to go watch it?" There was much judgment and shaking of the head.
As I'm lost in a sea of thought about how the world has lost it's collective mind, Dylan exclaims with much adoration,
"Is that guy BRAVE or what?!?"
Here's a clip, if you'd like to judge humanity as doomed and shake your head in disbelief right along with me! The drop doesn't happen until about 1:09. Get your 7 year old boy to watch it with you. He'll totally think it's cool.
I made pancakes and eggs for dinner. (This was pretty much my only option, as I spent this afternoon doing a whole lot of nothing, putting off the grocery shopping for just one. more. day.)
Then, in a moment of hasty preparation, I got the pepper for my eggs on my pancakes....and the syrup for my pancakes seeped over into my scrambled eggs. Peppered pancakes and syrupy scrambled eggs are gross. Gross and wrong.
Don't let this happen to you. When the pantry is empty, and you turn to the ol' standby of eggs and pancakes, don't let pepper contamination and syrup seepage ruin your dinner! And not only ruin your dinner, but shame you into repentance over the barren and desolate condition of your fridge and pantry when you discover there is nothing else to eat.
Just use two plates. A plate for the eggs. A plate for the pancakes. That is all.
(You thought the lesson would be "Go ahead and do the grocery shopping", didn't you? Nope.)
We had a heavy rainfall this afternoon, and the mini-river that was flowing down our street after the rain was filled with scrawny, disgusting looking worms. Yuck.
Dylan was delighted.
Lauryn's turning five in two days.
Try as I might, birthdays make me melancholy rather than excited. It's just how I'm wired. I lament the passing of time and the disappearance of their chubby toddler cheeks rather than looking ahead with excitement. If you see a 30 something woman bawling amongst the party goers at Chuck E Cheese in the next few days, it could be me. Just look away. LOOK. AWAY.
Granted, I've made the heartache worse today, by spending way too much time browsing through old snapshots of my baby girl.
Here's of few of my favorites. [sniffle] I feel maybe there's a grandma or two out there who might see these pictures and join in my "ooh-ing and ahh-ing", and join also in my lamenting that this adorable baby has disappeared forever.
("Disappeared forever?" Okay yeah, that might be a little over the top. But I warned you that birthdays make me melancholy. I wasn't kidding people.)
"Dylan, I apologize for my temper earlier."
"I forgive you Mommy. [kiss] But what's a 'temper'?"
Drat. It's a lot more humbling to say "Sorry I yelled at you and made
you go sit in the very back of the van because you were annoying
everyone with your early morning antics and making me late."
Just sweeping it all under the category of "temper" sure rolls off the
Happy Monday. Enjoy that vocabulary lesson on me!
Take one potato. It's packed with a good amount of vitamin C, vitamin B6 and potassium.
Bake it. Scoop out the healthy potato flesh. Mix in all kinds of delicious, tasty, fatty goodness like sour cream, and gross amounts of real butter and cheese, and even cream cheese if you just wanna go all the way down that road! Now you've basically canceled out any health benefits you may have extracted from your humble tuber! Scoop that tasty mixture back into the skins, top it with crumbled bacon for good measure, and bake again for 15 minutes.
Serve it up and enjoy.
I used a scrap of fabric to make Lauryn a cute fabric-flower hair bow:
The following conversation took place between Dylan and I as I drove him to a birthday party:
"Mommy, do you ever wish you were a boy, so you could mow the grass?"
"No, I don't wish I was a boy so I could mow the grass, because girls can mow the grass too!"
"But Mommy, you NEVER mow the grass."
"That's because I don't like it."
"But Daddy doesn't like it either."
""Well....you're right, he doesn't like it....but he does it anyway because he's the Daddy."
"But you just said that girls can mow the grass. So if girls can mow then that means Mommies ----- "
[cutting him off mid-sentence] "OH LOOK DYLAN! We're at the party!"
Thank goodness he's easily distracted. I haven't started that lawn mower in 12 years of marriage and I don't need a six year old guilting me into now.
|May of 2008 - Dylan already interested in the finer points of lawn care.|
I finally made an outfit for Lauryn, on my own, without assistance, that didn't end up in the trash. May we all have a moment of silence in honor of this sewing miracle.
I learned to ride my bike at my grandparents house in the country, in their long, flat gravel driveway.
When I mastered the art of riding with no training wheels, we loaded up the bike and took it back to my house in town. In my very hilly, very non-flat neighborhood.
I started at the top of 6th St. I was flying down that hill and gaining speed with every second, when I realized I had no idea how to stop. I tried putting my feet down like I did in my grandparents driveway, and they simply bounced off the ground and flailed out behind me. I could swear there were sparks flying off the tips of my sneakers as they hit the asphalt. I finally landed in a ditch, crashing spectacularly. It was a long tear-filled walk back up that hill.
This week as I watched my six year old riding his bike, I noticed that he was just planting his feet down on the ground when we wanted to stop. No use of the brakes at all. Doesn't work when flying down a hill, kid. I know Lubbock is flat but you might encounter a hill someday. We're totally having a lesson about using the brakes.