Friday, March 30, 2012

We Could be a Reality Television Family

Like, one of those crazy families on Doomsday Preppers, or, some such nonsense...

...except, I don't have enough storage space for three hundred rolls of toilet paper. That, and, a naturally high water table prevents us from sinking an emergency bunker in the backyard.

On the bright side, however; I can totally hide behind my children in the event of the inevitable Zombie Apocalypse.

Double tap.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

As Long As They Don't Hit the Bunny, We're All Good

Hugh took the kids out of school early today so that he, his brother, and, the kids, could go to the shooting range to teach the youngest member of the family how to shoot. We're redneck like that.
While they were out shooting, I took advantage of the solitude and sunshine by laying out in the back yard and, I can honestly say; if this weather holds up, I could be tan before boating season. That said: we will be hit with a blizzard annnnyyy second, now.

On the off-chance that we aren't hit by bad weather, The Teenager, the Man-Cub and I will be driving to Town of My Alma Mater for a volleyball tournament over Easter weekend. I would be outraged at the idea of spending a holiday at a volleyball tournament were it not for the fact that I get to spend the holiday in the company of one of my college roommates and, there is nothing better than falling off the Junk Food Wagon with a good friend.

Not that I'm going to influence her in that direction, I'm just saying.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

I Can't Believe We Pulled it Off

Today is Oscar's birthday. About a month ago, Hugh and his younger brother (who is back in the States on leave,  prior to departing on a one-year stint in Dubai)  started making plans to surprise Oscar with a visit.

The plan was for Hugh to pick up Younger Brother and his eight-year-old son at the airport after their flight from Maine. Then, he was to take them to Oscar's favorite restaurant where we would surprise both Oscar and Emily with their presence at a special birthday dinner.

The plan was rolling along quite well until Oscar and Emily decided to leave for a visit in Arizona last week.

Now, the men in my life tend to freak out over the slightest complication and, this seemed like a pretty big complication when one considers that Younger Brother was flying in from Maine with a rather tight window of opportunity for the visit. Factor in the fact that he hasn't seen his parents in almost two years as well as the whole leaving for the Middle East thing and you can see where there might have been some justification in the panic.

I kept my cool, of course, and, after conversing with Emily and determining that they would return from Arizona well in advance of Younger Brother's arrival; I encouraged the menfolk to stick with the plan.

The look on Oscar and Emily's faces this evening when they entered the restaurant and saw Younger Brother and his son was all the proof we needed that we had succeeded in our mission to provide Oscar with the best birthday surprise, ever.

As Hannibal Smith would say, "I love it when a plan comes together".

Not Quite the Wiggle Dance

I attended my first Zumba class last night. It was a lot of fun and I can see why people enjoy it. I'm not much of a dancer, so the class was a challenge for me. Did I look like a total spaz doing it? Absolutely. Did I care? Not so much. Personal Growth, people; it's the new black.

On a different topic; I am a mere week and a half away from the end of Lent. Which means I will be free to add the crap back in to my diet. As always, I have the best of intentions NOT to do that, and, as always; I will fail miserably. How do I know? The past week has been a three-ring circus of cravings for crap, which means; I have had almost six weeks to break the junk food habit and I'm still jonesing for the sweet, sweet taste of chocolate covered pomegranate seeds, Jelly Belly jelly beans, Cadbury mini eggs and anything featuring caramel.That's how I know.

Also, I don't think it's a coincidence that the Easter Bunny has invested heavily in all of the above.

It is also no coincidence that I have prepaid for numerous Zumba classes, because, Personal Growth shouldn't be allowed to occur in my ass.

Monday, March 26, 2012

Self Portrait

One of my goals for 2012 was to become better at my photography. To that end, I recently chose to complete an online photography tutorial; the first assignment for which was to take a self portrait.

For the record: I HATE having my picture taken. I am the least photogenic person in the world and am completely uncomfortable in front of the camera, which, when you think about it; probably explains why I spend so much time behind one.

Alas, I am committed to this goal, so...


And, now I can move forward to the next exercise, burying this accordingly.

Suck and Blow

The wind is blowing really, really hard, here. I'm sort of concerned that our trampoline might suddenly take flight, utilizing my roof for a landing strip before crashing into my bedroom via the attic. This tends to be my usual concern when the wind blows like this, and; I have no idea why. I mean, I'm pretty sure the trampoline is well secured, and, with the fencing the way that it is situated in our yard, the trampoline tends to be fairly sheltered from the wind, yet; I worry.

I wonder what Freud would say about that?

Sunday, March 25, 2012

A Picture says a Thousand Words...

...but you're getting both, today.

Yesterday I attended my women's club's 24th annual Spring Luncheon. Wrestling and volleyball duties have kept me away from the luncheon for the past couple of years, so; it was really nice to be able to participate once again. It was also nice to have so many people comment on how much they had missed having me at the luncheons as well as hearing from numerous older ladies how much they missed Hugh and his handsome wine serving ways.

Hugh was occupied at...wait for it...a wrestling tournament, so, he was unable to join us but, apparently, his legend lives on.

Also, people still seem to think that I could still pull off bridal attire which I found very flattering. In a never-gonna-happen-again sort of way. The clothing I did model for the fashion show portion of the luncheon was far more casual than the get-ups they used to put me in (hello ginormous wedding dresses), with the minor exception of a skin-tight black cocktail dress that required an aggressive application of Spanx merely to get in to. I was most grateful for the change.

Also, I am now a Spanx advocate. And, had I really needed a skintight cocktail dress; the one I modeled yesterday would have been the one to own, according to several gentlemen in attendance who made a point of telling me just that following the show.

Although it had been a couple of years, I was pleased to find that my runway skills had not rusted, completely. That, and a liberal application of wine during the meal, allowed me to get through the show, despite four-inch hooker heels that were determined to kill me. As an aside, if you ever find yourself roped into modeling for charity, remember the following things:

One, the shoes make the outfit. The first thing I modeled was a very casual pair of white walking shorts with a black cami and a lipstick red cardigan. It was cute, but, when I added black and white polka-dotted lace-up espadrilles, it was SUPER-Cute. In that same vein, the correct hooker heel can detract attention from a plunging neckline, if one is uncomfortable with the Girls getting all the attention.

Two, if you are going to walk the runway, WALK the runway. Strut that stuff. Make an impression. People will look at the clothes but they will remember the attitude. Also, wine is your friend.

While the fashion show is fun, the real star of the luncheon is the decor. Hostesses decorate tables in keeping with the general theme of the luncheon which, this year, was Just For the Fun of It! The hostesses did an amazing job of translating what they consider "fun" into table themes, including several travel-themed tables...

....and tables that celebrated the hostesses' hobbies; things like art, gardening, and, the search for fairies....

...seriously, two tables were done in a fairy motif. They were lovely.

Of course, my personal favorite was a table that celebrated something that is sadly missing in my life right now...

It was a festival of drool every time I walked by that table.

In addition to the eye-candy (pun intended), I enjoyed the luncheon because I got to see a lot of people that I don't run into very often since I left the corporate world for independent entrepreneurship, including one of the women who originally sponsored me in to the club ten years ago...

...she has since resigned from the club, due to changes in her personal life, and, I've sure missed her face.

Plus, there is always a fierce vibe to a room full of women who are just out for a good time, and, I like a fierce vibe.

Even when I have to suffer four-inch hooker heels to feel it.

Oh, and P.S., next year's luncheon will be SUPER-Fierce, not just because I will be wearing cute shoes (although I'm sure I will), but, because I will be chairing the event. Awesome theme to follow, in three, two, one....

Once Upon a Springtime.

How freakin' fierce is THAT?!

I'm thinking a Mad Hatter table, a table to honor the villains of fairy tales and, you just KNOW the women who celebrated the search for fairies will be ALL OVER a fairytale theme.

Fierce times infinity. You heard it here, first.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Perhaps I Should Demand a Recount

It's official; I am the new Club Secretary. Or, I will be when I am sworn into the position at a ceremony to be held the end of May (As an aside, SpellCheck just informed me that I cannot correctly spell Secretary. This does not bode well).

I left yesterday's meeting before the election results were read because Hugh was stranded at a local car dealership and I had promised him a ride. Plus, when your name is the only name on the ballot, there tends to be a lot less suspense involved in waiting for the election results. Not that I didn't try to make it a bit more exciting, I did; I totally wrote down my friend's name as a write-in candidate on my ballot. She was charged with counting ballots so I'm sure she appreciated my effort once she got to that one. Also, I bet she never for one minute wondered whose ballot it was. We're close like that.

So, yeah...Secretary.

While we are on the topic of elections, is there really any scientific proof that computer-generated telephone calls actually help the candidates for whom they are shilling? Any at all?  'Cause I'm thinking, NO. Just, no.

Also, stop calling me, Candidate For Whom I Will Never Vote.

Hold the phone! Something just occurred to me; the next time I am suckered into running for club office, I shall create phone messages with which to plague my fellow club members. I will auto-dial them during dinner. I will call them at the break of day. I will call them during stressful family situations and especially during times at which they are certain to be indisposed. My calls will be so frequent and so maddeningly ill-timed that my fellow members will become irritated with me; so irritated that they vote for someone else. ANYONE else.

It's genius, really.

Unless they vote for me as a punishment for my abuse of their phone lines.

Ok, rethinking that plan....

Monday, March 19, 2012

The Pain! The Pain!

Sometime Friday afternoon, as I was unloading groceries from the car, taking out the trash and pulling a stray soda can from the flower bed****RANT ALERT*** G-damned neighbors and their inability to close the lid on their effen trash cans during the windy season. Bastids***END RANT***; I managed to pick up a hitchhiker on my head.

It was a wasp.

A freaking wasp.

I continued into the house, blissfully unaware of the demonic insect with murderous intent lurking on top of my head, until, upon feeling a strange rustling in my hair; I raised my hand to brush away what I assumed was a ladybug or some other harmless thing , and, ZAP! Fucker stung my ring finger.

It. Was. Painful.

Probably more so for the wasp, which, I ripped from my hair, squished like, well, like a bug, and; threw to the floor where Finnigan finished him off, eating his carcass for good measure. Fucking wasp.

My poor finger throbbed and burned and generally hurt like a sumbitch until an hour later when, while hot-gluing one of Finnigan's toys; I managed to deliver a fifth-degree burn to my middle finger, pulling off at least three layers of skin and eliciting a string of curse words that would have made the devil himself shake his head at my audacity.

The pain in my wasp-stung finger paled in comparison. Bonus? I guess.

Both fingers still smarted on Saturday when, after sitting in the bleachers at the Middle School wrestling tournament for six hours; my back muscles joined the party in a show of solidarity for their phalanges brethren. By Saturday night, I was mainlining Tylenol and throwing back Irish whiskey, in the form of Bailey's coffees. Fortunately, it was St. Patrick's day, when the practice of drinking numerous Irish whiskeys is encouraged, rather than frowned upon, whether or not one is in pain.

While I was drinking that coffee, I was cooking a big pot of corned beef and cabbage, which Hugh and The Teenager tore into upon returning from the volleyball tournament in Neighboring City. As we ate, Hugh filled me in on his conversation with the coach (he actually tried the nice approach. I'm so proud. Also, it helped about as much as we expected which is to say; not at all) and The Teenager described the scene that took place when the coach began kicking chairs and punting water bottles across the gym during a losing streak.

Yes. For realz.

I was expecting more of the same behavior on Sunday when I took The Teenager to the second day of the tournament but, in an odd twist; the coach acted as though she had never gone primal on gym furniture and like the girls were just her best friends in the world. I'm pretty sure she is bi-polar and I'm really happy she got her meds adjusted before Sunday.

I'm guessing.

Anyway, the girls lost their first tournament game and were eliminated quickly. The Teenager and I then hit the mall to purchase jewelry for prom and, we were home in record time, which was a blessing since Mother Nature chose yesterday to also join in solidarity with my fingers and back, delivering grinding menstrual cramps and a headache that almost made me forget the fact that I am missing several layers of skin from a rather important finger.

I should have bought stock in Tylenol.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Well, It's Been Nice While It's Lasted

The weather is supposed to get nasty again this weekend. Were it not for the past week of sunshine, warmth and long walks; that might depress me. As it is, I will weather the storm (not a metaphor!) and will appreciate the nice weather all the more when it returns, again. Plus, my tulips and daffodils could use some moisture, and, since Hugh refuses to turn on the sprinklers until May 15th, exactly (Anal, much?); Mother Nature can feel free to dump a wee bit of snow.

Speaking of wee bits of things; tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day. I'm only slightly Irish (Ok, I'm slightly Welsh. On my Dad's side. Close enough), but, I always make it a point to celebrate St. Paddy's. And, by celebrate, I mean; I wear green, I pinch those who do not, I kiss the appropriately-lineaged and I make one mean-ass pot of corned beef and cabbage. It goes without saying that I also toast the holiday, although, I'm not much of a beer drinker, so; wine it will be.

Speaking of wine, or, in this case, of whine; The Teenager has a tournament in Neighboring City this weekend. Hugh is taking her tomorrow so that I may attend the Man-Cub's wrestling tournament here in Petticoat Junction. And, you know, so he can address the on-going issues that we have had with the coach. After the last tournament, I tagged out on that whole situation since it has become readily apparent that the "nice" approach simply does not work and Hugh is far better at "not nice" than I am. Hopefully he won't get himself kicked out of the gym.

In the event that he doesn't manage to get The Teenager kicked off the team, I will be taking her back to Neighboring City on Sunday for the second day of the tournament. While we are there, I plan to do some major damage at S@m's since this whole volleyball-slash-wrestling season has completely decimated my snack closet.

Yes, I have a snack closet. Wait, you don't?

Anyway, the closet, lo, she is empty, and, assuming Hugh doesn't get The Teenager kicked off the team; we still have two more tournaments to go before the end of the season.

A Leprechaun with a pot of gold would come in so handy right now.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

It Was a Good, Good Day

One of Hugh's friends officiated at yesterday's wrestling tournament, and, it is a testament to small town life when I say that we heckled that poor man like he was family. For instance, after the Cub won his first match, we gave the ref a very hard time for facing away from where we were sitting when raising the Cub's arm in victory. This, despite the fact that we were sitting opposite the score table which is the direction that the referee is supposed to face when declaring a victor.

He made up for it when the Cub won his second match, however.

Of course, he did encourage the above-shown behavior from the Cub so; heckling clearly comes naturally to him, as well. The Cub took first place in his bracket, however, so we forgave the showboating. From both of them.

After the tournament, The Teenager and I headed to the High School to participate in our ASTRA club's most recent community service project; a literacy fair for the community's elementary students. We spent the next three hours reading, crafting, playing games and entertaining 20 First to Fourth grade students before inhaling a few slices of pizza and heading home.

It was a long day but, it was also a very good day.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Taking additional Steps to De-Funkify (Yes, Jana, "De-Funkify" is Totally a Word)

The past two days have been delightfully warm and sunny here in Petticoat Junction, and, I've taken advantage of the weather by returning to the local park for long afternoon walks. Eventually, I'll build back up to running but, for now; I am enjoying the more leisurely pace as it gives me an opportunity to really look at the changes being made in the park.

The biggest change will be the addition of another fishing pond, the location of which used to be part of my favorite route around which to run. I'm somewhat disappointed in the loss of that route and, while there is still plenty of room to create a new running path (I assume that is part of the town's plan for the park); I will especially miss running over the foot bridge that used to harbor the otter den (What's that? We established, ages ago, that the otter den was actually a den for muskrats? Noooo, I can't hear youuuu).

I'm not the only one who is struggling with the changes in the park (aside from the displaced muskrats otters, I mean, obviously); the disc golfers are none too happy with being cut off from a large part of their course, as well. In fact, that unhappiness may be the most logical explanation for the numerous discs that I found myself dodging on yesterday's walk. Unless, yesterday's particular golfers really did mistake my head for a goal (or whatever the hell they call the disc golf basket/cage thingies. Hell if I know) which I find pretty hard to believe given the fact that I am neither large and metal nor do I have an orange flag sprouting from my head.

Today, my walk will take place a little earlier than usual due to the Man-Cub's wrestling tournament in Hooterville. The change could place me smack-dab in the prime time for disc golf and I'm seriously considering wearing a helmet. A fashionable helmet, of course.

Ooooh, speaking of helmets; the weather is also perfect for biking which means I will soon be releasing Lulu from her winter hibernation, and, by soon, I mean; just as soon as I can find the hand-pump in the mess that has accumulated in the garage since last summer. Her tires are flat, you see.

Also, I really need to have a garage sale, soon.

I think being dinged in the head by a golfing disc would be preferable.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Maybe the Light at the End of the Tunnel ISN'T a Freight Train

For the first time in recent memory; I can't complain about Daylight saving Time. I know, I'm shocked, too. But, really, this year the change didn't kick me in the ass like it has in past years. In fact, when I woke up yesterday, I was happy to greet the sunshine, and, having an extra hour of sunlight went a long way in pulling me out of the godawful funk that the winter had sucked me down into.

I took advantage of the sunlight by cleaning out my flowerbeds (Tulips! Daffodils! Peony shoots!) and, by checking my compost to see how it fared over the winter (Not well. Adjustments were made). I also mentally tilled, fertilized and planted my vegetable garden. Actual tilling, fertilizing and planting won't take place for another month or so, but; a girl can dream.

I came thisclose to power-washing the porch but realized that it would be difficult to do without a power-washer, so; that will have to wait as well, but, not for long since I want the porch in top-notch shape before prom happens at the end of April.

The weather has also gotten the memo that spring has arrived and we are expecting temperatures in the high 60's for the duration of the week. That means I will be back to walking in the park. I've missed my walks and my ass will thank me for the exercise.

Speaking of exercise, the Man-Cub got in quite a workout this weekend, at his wrestling tournament in Pixler. He won four-out of six of his matches, placing 5th out of 16 teams. That's not too shabby. And, he looked good doing it.

We are quite proud of him.

When I wasn't watching the Cub wrestle or soaking in the sunshine, I was cleaning the house; vacuuming up the equivalent of a small dog. Happily, with the nicer weather also comes the opportunity to leave the real dog outside at night. My allergies will delight in the change.

Also delightful; Finnigan is back to his old self. The hellcat reigns supreme.

And, The Teenager's recent acquisition of her driver's license has freed me from driving her to and from volleyball practices. I'm really starting to appreciate this "growing up" nonsense.

Just a little.

Friday, March 09, 2012

In Which I Never Complain About the School Drop-Off Lane Again

The Teenager drove herself to school this morning; making today the first school day in over a decade that I have not battled inept drivers in the drop-off lane. You would think that I would be thrilled with this turn of events and, I am. I'm just...processing the change. That's it; I'm processing.

The Teenager also drove herself to Hooterville to watch a soccer game last night and I only made her call to check in when she arrived at the soccer field. And, you know, when she left the soccer field. I don't plan to continue this Helicopter-Mom business for the long term, but, for now; one could grow dizzy from watching my blades spin. I own that.

In my defense, the Man-Cub walks to school every morning because he likes to get there early for open-gym time. I don't supervise the walk nor do I require him to call me upon arriving at the school (you know, anymore), so, I am less helicoptery than some parents.

SpellCheck refuses to recognize helicoptery as a word. Clearly, SpellCheck has no children over which to hover.

In news unrelated to my offspring, or, to my paranoid parenting of such; I think I have finally managed to kick my cold to the curb, at least, I am able to breathe without coughing, today.

This begs the question of whether or not I was actually allergic to the school drop-off lane. I'm going to go with yes.

Thursday, March 08, 2012

Milestones: Can The Stress Lead to Kidney Stones in Parents? Discuss

The Teenager got her first car on her fifth birthday. At the time it was both fashionable and affordable. It topped out of a speed of 5 MPH, cornered like it was on rails, and; the child was in heaven when she drove it. Unfortunately, she had a bit of a lead-foot back then but, lucky for her, she had an "in" with the local police department.

I'm going to issue you a warning, today, miss. Please sign, here. Press hard; five copies.

With any luck, she has outgrown the need for speed and the remainder of her driving career will be without incident, because, today; she got her driver's license.

Her newest car goes a bit faster than 5 MPH.

Hold me.

It's all good, Mom.

No, really, someone hold me. Please.

Wednesday, March 07, 2012

At Least She Didn't Pass Out

The Teenager's good intentions came to naught, yesterday, when the staff of the Blood Mobile denied her donation due to the fact that she weighed one pound under their minimum weight. Girlfriend was bummed. I encouraged her to eat a sandwich and to try again next time.

Part of me wonders if her insistence on donating has something to do with her wanting to stock up on good Karma prior to taking her driving test at the Department of Motor Vehicles tomorrow; she may have seen doing a good deed as a way of a gaining Universal Karmic Insurance for a passing grade and the acquisition of her license.

I'm not sure it works that way, but then, what do I know?

One thing I do know is that I will be sworn in as Club Secretary for my women's club come the end of May and, I know this because I got a sneak peek at the ballots and, despite what I was promised when I agreed to run for the office; I am the only candidate on the ballot. This precludes me from campaigning for my competition and ensures a "win" for me despite my fervent wish for exactly the opposite outcome.

Well played, Nominating Committee. Well played.

On the other hand, it isn't the office of First Vice President, which guarantees a three-year sentence commitment so; there's that.

Also, if I take certain liberties with the official meeting Minutes, the position could prove quite entertaining. Not that I would do that; I'm just saying.

But, if I did do it, I would be sure to donate some blood to make up for it. And, I guarantee they would not turn me away for being underweight. Unfortunately.

Tuesday, March 06, 2012

I Bet You Believe in the Easter Bunny, Too

One of our High School's numerous clubs is hosting a blood drive today, and, The Teenager is donating for the first time. I'm really hoping it goes better for her than it usually goes for me. Or, in the event that is doesn't; I really hope the club is stocked up on orange juice and sugar cookies.

Speaking of sugar cookies, it is day 14 of Lent and, in a totally unexpected turn of events; I have craved not one ounce of chocolate. Or, any other candy, for that matter. I have also had no difficulty refraining from a potato chip binge or from stuffing myself to the gills with donuts, cookies or other assorted pastries. And, we had lunch at The Cheesecake Factory while in Denver this weekend. Pre-Lent me would have totally snarfed down several slices of that cheesecake, I assure you. Lent me? Totally above the need for sugar. Totally.

Granted, I have been sick but; I am going to credit my willpower for this stellar Lenten performance while relegating the inability to take a deep breath without coughing and the fact that my throat is too sore to swallow all the way back to the end of the line in reasons for this accomplishment.

You believe me, right?

And, you also believe that, once Lent is over; I will refrain from executing a Cadbury Egg raid on the children's Easter baskets, right?


Monday, March 05, 2012

Best Laid Plans and All That

This weekend was supposed to be a relaxing series of days during which I would rest and, hopefully, recover from whatever demon had invaded my sinus cavities. I had planned to take the Man-Cub to his wrestling tournament on Saturday and, as a reward for what I knew would be his hard work and demonstration of good sportsmanship, to a favorite restaurant for breakfast on Sunday. I had already finished my housework, freeing myself to sleep in, and, I was really looking forward to chilling on the couch with mug upon mug of hot tea with lemon and honey; knowing that my sore throat would thank me for the effort. The weekend was totally planned.

You know what they say about best-laid plans, right?

Thursday, the brand new computers at the store decided to shit the bed. Hugh was on the phone with our advice line from 11:00 a.m. until 3:00 p.m. with no end to the problem in sight. Since he was supposed to leave the house for The Teenager's volleyball tournament in Denver at 3:30, this was a problem.

I am not tech-savvy enough to talk the advice line through the issues that we were experiencing and it became rapidly apparent that I was going to have to take the girls to Denver (we had already committed to giving one of The Teenager's team mates a ride), which, I did. In a snowstorm. In the dark.

Have I mentioned that I am not the most confident driver in the snow? Or, that my night vision sucks under the best of circumstances? Yeah.

The trip took six and a half hours; we arrived at our hotel at almost 11:00, exhausted, hungry and, in my case, with a fever and a throat so sore and swollen, the simple act of swallowing had become too painful to contemplate.

At 6:00 the following morning, we hit the ground running and we didn't stop for the next three days.

Three days of early mornings, late nights, city driving (which, with the exception of a particularly hazardous journey through a horrifyingly vertical parking garage, I surprised myself with being quite good at; who knew?), numerous hours spent sitting on a cold concrete floor, waiting for games to begin followed by eight volleyball games to cheer through.

The girls did ok. We lost all but one game and, I blame the coach, with whom Hugh will probably have words again before this season is (thankfully) over. But, they got to experience something different, due to the sheer size of the tournament.

And, I felt like pounded dog shit through the entire thing.

On the bright side, The Teenager did find a prom dress, we had a lot of laughs with her and her team mate (who is a doll and to whom I would offer a ride, anywhere, anytime) and, I got to visit my dad in the hospital, where he has been since his surgeries in February (he's doing great).

We finally got home a little before 8:00 last night and, while I would love to say that I got to finally relax and drink those mugs of hot tea; that would be a lie.

Instead, I got to do three days worth of dishes, because, apparently; I am the only adult in my household capable of placing dishes in the dishwasher or of running a sink full of soapy water. I would make a joke about job security at this point but, I'm still too exhausted to do so.

After work this afternoon, I plan to crawl into my bed and I'm not planning to come out again until tomorrow morning. Of course, we all know how well planning actually works out for me, so...yeah...that's not going to happen.

Thursday, March 01, 2012

Hello, Gorgeous!

March! March! March! The first official day of spring!

Shut up, it is in my house.

And, it's finally here! We'll see slightly longer days which means more hours of sunlight which means I will be able to get outside in the fresh air and will finally be able to shake off this godawful funk; making me ten times less likely to start shooting random strangers with a Nerf Gun from the roof of our house, yay!

Oh, March, how I love you! I'm even willing to overlook the wind that you inevitably bring to the party, in fact, I'll make the best of it; I'll fly a kite or something.

Kites, wow. I haven't thought about flying kites in years; my day is already so much brighter just thinking about that.

And, speaking of brighter things, The Teenager had a big day yesterday; she got her braces off. She went from this....

to this....

...and she could not be more pleased. Her new smile brightens my day almost as much as the coming of spring.


To add to my happiness; Finnigan continues to show improvement. He is back to jumping and running and launching himself from great heights. Do I worry that such activity could be bad for a cat with a suspected heart defect? Sure. Am I going to do anything to curtail his normal feistiness? Not on your life; he's happy. And, that'll do.

Also, Spellcheck does not recognize feistiness in any way, shape or form. Spellcheck needs to get out more.

And, speaking of getting out, I went to a get-together with the Porch Night Ladies last night. We gathered at the home of one of the ladies for a Mexican feast, sangria and good conversation. I have missed the Ladies and we are all looking forward to the coming of summer and a re-opening of the porch, which, will happen so much sooner now that spring has arrived.

Shut up, it has in my house.