Andi's Ramblings

The Story of My Tattoo

2012-01-28T09:54:00.000-06:00

It seems as if EVERYONE wants or has a tattoo these days.

I got my first tattoo in 1993. I was a Junior in high school.

And it wasn't real.

You see, it was a very classy rub on tattoo. I think I got it from Claire's. I loved it. I proudly sported it on my ankle, just above my bobby sock during basketball season so everyone could admire it's beauty in my cheerleading uniform.

The thing about rub on tattoos is they come off. So a few days later I put a butterfly tattoo on my OTHER ankle. It was sooooo beautiful. I think it was a big blue butterfly. But I could be mistaken.

"Do you know what people think of you when they see those tattoos on your legs?" my mom would ask.

"They think it's in a different location every time they see it," was my smart reply. (I fear I frequently needed my face smacked in high school.)

So in high school I had a love affair with tattoos. I would put them on my shoulders if I knew I was going to wear a sleeveless shirt, but I quickly learned they weren't as pretty as the ones I put on my legs, due to my resistance to shaving my arms...

In those days tattoo parlors were illegal in Oklahoma. I turned 18 in 1993, and I think my parents were quite relieved that I could not just wander up the street and get a REAL tattoo. However, I was determined that one day I would have a tattoo. I hadn't settled on the exact design, or even location. You see, NOBODY had tattoos in those days. Well, unless you were a biker, active military, or a veteran. But other than that, no all American girls had tattoos. However, for some reason I had determined it was my destiny to decorate my body with colored ink.

I graduated high school in 1994. That May I went to work at a regional hospital in our area as a nurse's aide. I did all of those things that nurses receive such glory for. You know: Bed baths, toileting, diaper changing, spoon feeding, and lets not forget overall cleaner of vomit. I always tell people who are considering nursing as a profession to work as an aide before they do it. If you can do the most menial part of the job and still love it, then it is definitely your calling.

So there I was 18 years old, working as a nurse's aide and pondering the exact location of my permanent tattoo, and how I was going to manage to get said tattoo when I was a kid working through college, with no opportunities for road trips in my near future. I continued with my hobby of temporary tattoos. I would try different designs and different locations, and contemplate which colors worked best with my fair skin...

Anyhoo as I was pondering my future tattoo, I was working in our local hospital. One day as I was helping a woman who was the same age as my grandma have her sponge bath, I noticed something on her belly. At first I thought some jello or something had gotten on her and dried. So, I tried to help wash it off. Only it didn't come off. Then I realized it was a TATTOO! Of a ROSE! A withered, disfigured, faded rose. I was quite shocked. Here was this sweet little old lady with a TATTOO on her belly! What made it even worse was that the tattoo wasn't SUPPOSED to be on her belly. It was supposed to be about 12 inches farther north. Sadly, as her body began to sag and shift, her once perky rose tattoo was now a sad and saggy shriveled blob.

I never did get a tattoo. Every time I thought about getting a tattoo after that, I would picture that disturbing image.

Now when I see everyone running around with tattoos, I'm really glad I never got one. Not because I care that they have tattoos. I had wanted a tattoo as a statement of being different. If I had one now, I'd just be like everyone else. And where's the fun in that?

When I have veterans in as patients, I always look at their tattoos, and ask them about them. Some of them are embarrassed, but most of them have an interesting tale to tell about getting it. I have to say one of the perks about being a nurse, is the ability to ask darn near anything of people, and they answer the questions as if you have every right to know...

I remember a few years ago, I was trying to start an IV on an elderly gentleman who had a tattoo on his forearm. He had come in dressed as many men his age do: Docker pants, button up shirt, sweater vest, gold watch and fedora in place. I love when men come in dressed like this as it is very similar to how my Grandad Marvin dressed. Anyway, he was out of his "civilian clothes" and had changed into our very flattering "one size fits none" hospital gown. I had tucked him up in warm blankets, and gathered my supplies for his IV.

I placed the tourniquet on his upper arm, and began my survey for a likely vein candidate, I vaguely noticed he had a tattoo. Typical of elderly people, his skin was loose and thin. I stretched it taunt to see if I had any takers pop up. I couldn't help myself, but I started to chuckle as I stretched his skin out and realized that he had the oh so classic naked lady tattoo on his forearm. He asked me what I was laughing at.

"I'm sorry. I just couldn't help but think that I bet when you got that naked lady tattoo you never dreamed she'd get old and saggy along with you!"

Fortunately, he saw the humor in the situation along with me.

This List is REAL

2012-01-22T21:30:00.000-06:00

Our lives have been in a state of turmoil lately.

Sadly, life does not seem to slow down when turmoil comes, but in some ways it seems to go into super fast forward and you just want to say, "WAIT! Slow down! I didn't have time to check homework or fold laundry, and I'm tired and all I want to do is sleep, but I can't sleep, and then the night drags on and on and on..." And then the next day I'm tired and the day is flying by and I'm not managing time wisely because my brain is circling around and around topics that I have no control over, but can't seem to make myself stop worrying about.

Guess what? In the midst of this turmoil my Grandma Irene is coming to my house for the VERY FIRST TIME EVER. I'm super excited. She will be here Tuesday evening. I will work tomorrow. I will work Tuesday. I will be on call both of those days, unless I can find someone to switch with me Tuesday.

So all of that whining is to say this: After taking a two hour nap today (which I really did NOT have time for) I made a list of things that MUST be done before we all leave for work Tuesday morning. I think the list is rather revolutionary if I do say so myself. As I was writing this list, in the exact words I'm about to share with you, I said to myself: Instead of packing the last of the red dishes on the hutch, I do believe I will blog this list.

(Because my decision making processes are always full of wisdom and ambition.)

And so I am.

Chores to be done before GRANDMA IRENE arrives on Tuesday afternoon:

Girls:
-Dust (Your bedrooms too!)
-Clean your bathroom
-Vacuum your rooms

Brent & Andrea:
-vacuum remainder of house
-hutch
-Hide Clutter in Closet if All Else Fails
-Our bathroom
-Oh no-We have basketball practice for Bookworm Monday night!

You see, I glanced at our hutch and number three simply flowed out of my brain and onto the paper.

I'm pretty sure it is imperative that it remain.

Now to figure out what to make for dinner for my Grandma Irene's first ever visit to my house...

I have some leftover chicken. I'm nearly out of dog food, so I must stop at the store tomorrow on my way home from work. I'm thinking I'll grab some refrigerated pie crust and make some pot pies tomorrow night for Brent to pop in the oven around 5pm or so Tuesday night...

It's either that or carry out pizza.

Enunciation (Or How An Accent Changes Things)

2012-01-20T20:49:00.002-06:00

Attention: This post contains language that I don't use...Except that I'm having to tell a story.

And the story just isn't the same without direct quotes.

And they use the word in the Bible.

So surely that makes it okay.

Yesterday's post about Rasslin' made me think about accents.

And that made me think of my dear friend Jennifer. She's from Tyler, Texas and her accent is quite catching.

So catching that when we lived in Texas Grace said such words as "hotayel" instead of "hotel." Since I didn't tend to add extra accents to my vowels, I could only blame such things on Jennifer...

Anyhoo. We lived in Arlington, TX for eight years. And for six of those eight years, I worked at a hospital in Fort Worth. Two years as a nursing student, and the last four as an RN.

One day Melody (one of my fellow RNs) and I were standing in the medication room, drawing up medications in syringes and doing all sorts of other "nursey" type things. Things that require the UTMOST attention to detail, so I'm QUITE certain that there was just NO way we were discussing our precious new baby girls who were mere weeks apart...

I'm sure we were discussing cardiac rhythms and fluid overload and uncontrolled diabetes...Or some other lofty, most excellent and invigorating subject.

But the POINT is that we were in the medication room.

And we were possibly chatting.

And then a respiratory therapist stuck her head around the corner (this was before the days when medication rooms became required to have locked doors) and said, "Hey guys, where do y'all keep your ass?"

Melody and I froze. We slowly turned and looked at her. Two heads turning, eyes widening...

"Excuse me?"

"Where do y'all keep your ass?"

There was a beat of silence.

"Our whaaaat?" And we both began to slowly turn our heads to look over our shoulders at our, well...Our backside...

"Your ass! Your ass!! Where do you keep your ASS?"

And suddenly Melody, who was Texas born and bred said, "Oh my gosh! Ice! You are looking for our ice!"

And we both broke into peals of laughter.

I'm not sure if we answered her between gasps of hilarity, and gestures to our behinds, and broken phrases of "Oh my gosh" and "I thought she was saying ass" and "me too!"

And then we laughed some more.

As the day progressed we'd be working along, bustling this way and that up and down the halls, in and out of rooms. We'd happen to enter a door at the same time, and then our eyes would meet and one of us would say "ice" and the laughter would start all over again.

We dined on that request for ice for months to follow.

Strangely, the respiratory therapist never seemed to find the humor in the situation.

Rasslin'

2012-01-19T19:46:00.000-06:00

Okay, just to be clear for those who don't know me: I truly do say "wrestling." I even put the "ing" on it, which is a pretty big deal here in Oklahoma. Makes me seem all proper like and ever'thin'...

Tonight I took the girls to a fine Mexican establishment for dinner. Studmuffin was eating Buffalo Wild Wings with a friend, and rather than use the practical "save money" route, I went with the "Dad gummit if he's eating out, I am too" route. I really like that route. As I was having a brief accidental conversation with my sister (the kind where you don't mean to call her, but then the call doesn't go through so it's okay, but then she gets all mannerly like and calls you back anyway) and I over heard the following conversation between my two girls. I made them repeat the entire thing, just for accuracy sake.

Because I immediately recognized it as a very blogworthy moment, and those are few lately.

And I'm thorough that way.

Bookworm was telling Popcorn about a wrestling match. You see, Bookworm is our local expert on many, many things, and she was the most informed of all things wrestling at our little table of three. Because A) She reads voraciously, and B) She actually saw a real live wrestling match, which all sixth graders were required to attend to support their school...

Popcorn: Do you think I could take down an eighth grader?

Bookworm: I don't think so. They're really tall.

Popcorn: Well that's when you bite'em!

Bookworm: There is no biting in wrestling.

Popcorn: Then I'll pinch them! (Sadly, she took down a cousin that has a good thirty pounds on her by this very technique. Not all of my parenting moments are proud ones.)

Bookworm: There's no pinching in wrestling either!

Popcorn: Oh. Well then I'll just punch him in the FACE!

Bookworm: There's no punching in wrestling.

Popcorn: WHAT KIND OF WRESTLING IS THAT!!!???

Me: That's called wrestling with rules.

Popcorn: Wrestling with rules is unnatural.

????

Being the dignified parent that I am, I burst out laughing. Very loudly.

I don't understand the point of quiet laughter. It's just no fun.

Unless you're laughing so hard that you go all silent laughter, and you can't inhale because you're laughing so hard, and then if you're in my family you suck in a giant breath of air...

And then you sigh a long drawn out sort of high pitched sigh like about an "A" above middle "C"...

And then if you're all together as a family, the gasp and sigh somehow synchronize so that starts an entirely new round of silent laughter that makes my dad's face get alarmingly red, and you almost fear he will have a stroke, but nonetheless you can't stop laughing long enough to make him stop laughing...

What has made you laugh lately?

Proverbs 17:22 A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

P.S. I really should avoid this particular establishment as it was the sight for the great choking debacle of 2010.

Really, you should totally click that link for a refresher laugh, even if you've already read it.

Putting A Face To It

2012-01-10T22:14:00.002-06:00

Today I received an order from one of our kidney doctors to remove a dialysis catheter from one of his patients. "I don't know why Southwest left this line in when they discharged him a few days ago. It needs to come out." The line is one we consider temporary, and not safe to be left in outside of the hospital as it is only held in by a stitch, and if it comes out the patient could bleed to death if proper pressure is not applied.

Just another day in the world of health care...

I had the patient come to our department after his dialysis treatment. I noted that he was Mexican. I asked if he spoke English and he said "Yes." I asked what his plans were for dialysis if I removed his access. He simply shrugged. After a brief interview I realized that he was not sure if he still needed dialysis, and if he did, he was not sure how he was going to receive it.

"Are you supposed to go home today?"

He said yes he was, but still didn't have an answer how he was supposed to get treatment. I pulled up his chart on the computer and looked up the note from his doctor.

I was startled at what I found, but I could understand the reasoning behind it...

I had just never found myself in the position of explaining such things to a patient. After a moment's thought, I read the following doctor's note aloud to the patient:

Patient is an undocumented worker from Mexico. I instructed patient that he needs to return to Mexico where he can get health care, and continue treatment for his renal failure. I also told patient that if he develops shortness of breath, he needs to return to the nearest hospital where he will be treated for his renal failure.

The patient became very reserved and stoic after I read the note aloud to him. I asked if he understood what the doctor was saying.

He shrugged and avoided eye contact with me. I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered what he thought I was thinking. Did he think I felt he didn't deserve health care because he does not have the proper paper work? My reality is that even if he didn't have paper work, as a laborer, odds are he wouldn't have insurance. Of course, our state Medicaid system would step in if he were a legal citizen. Instead, this man has a serious, terminal if not treated illness, and no means to get it paid for. I quietly stood beside him and thought about his situation and the consequences. I wondered if he was able to fully grasp what was going to happen with him, considering his not quite fluent English. How do I explain what he is facing? What do I say to a man that I know is doomed to death if he does not receive treatment?

Sometimes there are just no words to say.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, I asked him if he understood what it meant to lose function of his kidneys. Again, he shrugged.

"Juan, once you've lost function of your kidneys, it usually means that it's permanent. They are no longer able to clean out your blood of toxins and fluid. Those toxins and fluids build up and you end up back in the hospital, unable to breathe. The best thing you can do at this point is dialysis, which is what we've been doing. Unfortunately, you don't have insurance, and you can't get insurance because you're not a legal citizen. That is why Dr. K is suggesting you return to Mexico."

Of course he continued to look straight ahead, and barely acknowledge what I was saying.

"Has anyone talked to you about monitoring how much you drink and changes in what you eat?" He didn't remember if they did.

I don't doubt that he has been instructed on both of those things. I just don't think he really understood what he needed to do. I tried to explain the importance of watching his fluid intake. I talked about avoiding the salt shaker. At first I thought he was not going to engage in the conversation. He surprised me by asking how much he could safely drink in a day. I told him that it varies from patient to patient, and he needed to ask Dr. K. "However, a pretty basic measure is not over two liters."

Of course he had no clear idea of liters. I told him to think of a big bottle of pop, and I got a foam cup and told him to not drink over nine of those a day. We discussed that he has to consider liquid from soups, jello, ice cream and even ice. I gave the lecture on no soda and certainly no alcohol. He told me he doesn't drink "cerveza" and I told him I hoped that was so.

I removed his dialysis catheter with a heavy heart. My mind was spinning with things he needed to know to have any hope of controlling this disease without dialysis. And yet, I realize that all of those things are really just tiny bandages on a huge gaping wound. After I removed his catheter I reminded him to leave the dressing on for at least one day. I reminded him to ask about foods he should avoid, and what level he should keep his fluid intake at. When I called report, his nurse was off the floor. I asked the nurse taking report for him to please have her get a dietary consult so the patient can have a better idea of what foods would be safe to eat.

After leaving Juan's bedside, I went to my next patient. Also of Mexican decent. She speaks little to no English, and instead of removing, I was assisting in PLACING a permanent dialysis catheter. She will go home and receive dialysis three times a week, four hours each day...And it will all be paid for by the tax payers because she is on the state Medicaid program. You see, she is here legally.

Juan is not.

Same disease. Same background. Taxpayers will be picking up the tab for both patients.

I can't get his face out of my mind. He was a quiet man with unexpected green eyes. He was slim and well groomed. After digging through his chart as we chatted I discovered his kidney disease was probably caused by high blood pressure, which he had not realized he had until it was too late. He still did not understand his high blood pressure when I talked to him.

When I'm outside the walls of the hospital it is easy to say that we have to stop giving health care to all of these illegals. It's easy to complain about the drain on our budget that their children are, because they all get coverage. However, when you are looking in the face of that person, and you know that they will surely die without proper care it is a big pill to swallow.

Of course, I realize Juan is still getting health care. And, he's getting it for "free" as there is probably no way he will be able to pay, and no way for us to collect.

I was physically ill as I spoke to him. His condition will only get worse. He will continue to go into a crisis of fluid overload. This will cause him to either go to the hospital where he can get a temporary dialysis catheter placed like the one I removed today and receive a few treatments until he's "stable" and the doctor can discharge him and try not to let him weigh on too heavily on his already overburdened conscience. (After all, any doctor that works for our hospital is not in it for the money. We are known for giving away free health care.) Or, Juan will literally drown in his own body fluid because his heart will be overloaded with fluid and literally give out from inability to deal with the fluid. If by some miracle he is able to manage his fluid intake without dialysis, his kidneys will not be able to manage the waste products and his potassium levels will become so critically high that he will die from cardiac arrest...

So that sucks.

He will continue to be a drain on the system, getting "free health care" because no hospital will turn him away. This is not near to the cost if he actually received dialysis three times a week, four hours at a time like he probably needs. But it will still be a cost to the taxpayer. This sporadic treatment given as a result of recurring crisis will take it's toll on his body, and his kidney disease will progress rapidly.

And then he will die.

So that sucks even more.

As I spoke to Juan today I realized that putting a face to something changes your perspective. I'm not saying that illegals should all get free health care. That would just be crazy. What I will say is that it's a lot easier to say "kick 'em out of the country" when you're talking about a nameless, faceless person. What will happen to him if he returns to Mexico? Will he get treatment? I can't imagine that he will get the level he would here. I imagine he would be treated from one crisis situation to the next.

But maybe I'm wrong.

All I know is that he is a man. A human being with a family and friends and hopes and dreams of a better life. He is a creation of God. He has a scary diagnosis that I don't think he understands. I pray for his safety.

Cockroach Killers

2011-12-30T20:43:00.000-06:00

Have you ever seen those really pointy toed cowboy boots? I realize they have actually made it to the somewhat "fashionable" world of western wear. However, when we lived in the Dallas/Fort Worth area, they were NOT in style. Anytime we saw someone wearing them Brent would say, "Look at those Cockroach Killers." Apparently the pointy toe is really good for getting into corners.

Today at work I noticed a bad smell in our department. Our bathrooms have drains in the floors. They were designed for showers. However, nobody actually showers in our bathrooms, so gases build up in the drain pipes and they start to smell. Our friendly environmental services repairman taught us to pour water into the trap every so often to alleviate the smell. It works like a charm!

So today I noticed the smell. I dumped some water down the trap, and the smell remained. So I dumped some more. I was on my fourth cup (I was using a large foam cup) and wondering how many cups it would take. Suddenly a cockroach no less than two inches long climbed out of the drain. It took all of my willpower, but I held the scream inside my throat (so as to not alert patients to the fact that critters were invading) and jumped up and stomped on it. However, as I was turning to stomp the quick little critter, three more came darting out...

I stomp, stomp, stomped gave a great big shuddering "Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh" (insert zombie-ish moaning sound) and scratched my body all over, then convulsed some more as I put on a glove, grabbed a paper towel and disposed of the still antenna waving horrors...

Aside:

I had only seen roaches one other time at our hospital, and those actually climbed out of one of a patient's bag and up my arm...And believe it or not, I stifled that scream to, in an effort to not offend the dear lady. I calmly handed her bag to her as I tried to subtly stomp the roaches that I'd just flicked off of my arm. She calmly dug a banana out of her bag and began to eat it... Completely oblivious (desensitized) to the roaches that were swarming inside it.

*Shudder*

After she left I killed three more roaches in that bay and nearly had a heeby jeeby breakdown.

Back to present day:

I tried to nonchalantly leave the bathroom to call environmental services. I decided not to call at the nurses station as we had patients in the department. I went to an office, and one of the PAs was on the phone. I went to the front desk, and there was family in the waiting area. My supervisor wasn't in yet, so her door was locked and I felt weird about waltzing into our doctor's office to use his phone without him there...

I wandered back to the holding area just in time to see one of our female patients come scurrying out of the bathroom and say, "There are BUGS chasing me in there."

Color me mortified! I said, "I'm so sorry," and walked in to the bathroom to find four more roaches running around the floor. I stomped, stomped, stomped, stomped, slammed the door shut, leaving the light on, and tucked a blanket under the door.

Now, I realize the blanket wasn't going to stop them, but I was hoping they would want to prefer the dark, and therefore not come out of the drain since I was leaving a light on...

I then gave up all pretenses of subtlety and called environmental services who helpfully informed me pest control was coming that very day, but they were going to ER first...Of course the pest guy had other errands to jobs first. I don't understand how any pest problem could be a bigger deal than ours. But there ya go...

Later on I went to chat with the lady and apologize AGAIN and express my mortification over the roaches. "I have NEVER even seen a roach here. I am so sorry for your experience." (Okay, so I fudged a little, but the other roaches were carried in and mostly out by the same patient.) She laughed and told her family how I saved her from attacking bugs. We were all laughing about her hysteria when her sister said, "I love your shoes!"

"Thanks! They make great roach killers!"

And you guys thought they were a purely frivolous purchase!

Rugged

2011-12-29T11:17:00.005-06:00

A few weeks ago, the following conversation ensued in our car. I believe it was on the way home from one of the girls' Christmas concerts.

Me: Hey girls! I finally bought that Michael Buble' Christmas cd.

Girls: Yeah! Put it in now.

Brent: I finally saw a Michael Buble' video. It made me mad.

????

Me: Why?

Brent: He can sing and he's good looking. And he can dance.

This statement was met with much hilarity and laughter from the female gender in the car.

Me: Honey, you don't have anything to worry about. Michael Buble' is good looking in a pretty boy sort of way. You are ruggedly handsome. I prefer rugged manliness.

Popcorn: That's right Dad! Who cares about clean when you can have rugged?

Stress Eating

2011-12-28T10:25:00.001-06:00

When a crisis arrives and I'm at home the immediate reaction is to clean the entire house from top to bottom.

When a potential crisis arrives at work, my immediate reaction is to wish I had some fountain Dr. Pepper and Nacho Cheese Doritos.

Yesterday at about 3:30 my supervisor said, "Is Dr. G going to do that ICU patient tonight?"

"What ICU patient? He didn't mention it to me."

"It's that patient that coded this morning. He wants to do her tonight, and he needs anesthesia, but they can't come until after 6."

Well, great. I immediately began needing some Doritos and DP. After all, if she coded odds are she's pretty sick. And I hate dealing with really sick people late in the evening. The rest of the crew has left, and that leaves the call nurse, the doctor and two radiology techs... unless you drag the ICU nurse into the procedure with you...

I went out to ask the doctor if we "had" to do the case that night, or could we wait and do it the next day and we'd book anesthesia...And of course, that would mean our entire department would be there in case things started going south...

He called the attending doctor who responded, "I think her gallbladder is obstructed. If that is the cause of her sepsis, then she won't make it through the night."

Well, crap. I called the anesthesiologist who was immediately annoyed that we were wanting him to put a patient under for a procedure when her labs were terrible, she's on the ventilator, and her blood pressure is still sketchy even though she was on the maximum dose of pressor meds. (Pressor meds are given when a person's blood pressure is too low.)

Oh, I just feel compelled to tell you in an aside note that one time I tried to refuse to do sedation on a very sick patient with Dr. G, because I was almost certain they were going to die on the table. I wanted them to stabilize the patient more before we did the procedure. He looked at me and said, "Andrea, this patient is going to die very soon if we don't do this. So, he can either die with us trying to save him, or we can do nothing and he will still die." What do you say to that? We did the case, and the patient lived. But I swear I carried knots in my neck and shoulders from the stress of that case for weeks afterwards....

After speaking with the anesthesiologist, I reported back to Dr. G that the anesthesiologist said I couldn't bring the patient to our department until he had seen her himself in the ICU. And I was very okay with that...

However, my dad gum doctor just said, "That's okay. I'm on my way to the ICU right now. I think we are just going to drain her gallbladder, so I will just need sedation, and you can do that. Come with me."

I could? I didn't WANNA do sedation on this lady! Grrrrrr...I grabbed my DP and chips and headed out the door with him...

(Thankfully, one of the radiology techs that was NOT on call had ran down to the cafeteria and bought me a fountain Dr. Pepper and Cool Ranch Doritos as they were out of Nacho Cheese...She knows me well.)

He and I took off down the hall, sharing my bag of Doritos...Yet, he pointed out that he thinks it's tacky to eat and walk at the same time. I told him to "Shut up and eat a chip." And he did. He knows when he's living dangerously. (By the way, we tell each other to shut up on a regular basis. In fact, I pointed out that I've told him to shut up more than any other human in my life. He said it's ditto for him, unless we count his sister and that took an entire LIFETIME to reach the quantity of shut ups that he's given me. We aren't sure if this is a good thing or not.)

He walked into her room, where three family members were at bedside. He immediately started telling them what we were about to do. As he was talking, I noticed that she was on continuous hemodialysis...This means her kidney function was so poor that they had a machine hooked up pulling her blood out and cleaning it continuously. I then noticed that her blood pressure was 66/47.

YIKES!!!

I immediately went to find the ICU nurse and tell her that if I had to take this patient and sedate her, then she was darn well coming with me. And to shove a few more Doritos in my mouth and suck down some more liquid Xanax...Well, fortunately, the nurse had already talked to the attending and convinced her that the patient would probably not survive the transfer to our department and subsequent sedation. She told Dr. G this, and asked if there was any way possible he could put the drain in at bedside.

"Sure. We can try that."

How do you spell relief?

Well, we put the drain in at bedside, and the poor woman hurt tremendously as we did it, because her blood pressure was too low to give her anything to ease the pain. The doctor kept asking us to give her something for pain, but the ICU nurse was adding a new pressor med, and another ICU nurse had joined us for moral support, (and to hold her down because it really did hurt,) and we were all presenting a united "refusal to give pain medicine" front...So, it hurt her really really badly. But she lived through the procedure.

Dr. G said this is the first time he's drained a gallbladdder without giving some serious meds to get through it. The three of us just put on our callus nurse faces and said, "Well, now you can check that off your list." And we all thanked each other for the good work, and I went home, slurping on my drink and wishing I hadn't shared the last of my chips with the doctor...

So, what do you want to eat when you are stressed? Do you eat at all? Do you go into a frenzy of activity? Perhaps you curl into the fetal position and stare at the ceiling fan...

Santa Came!

2011-12-25T17:28:00.000-06:00

Well, here it is about 5pm on Christmas day, and the girls are locked in their rooms playing with their new Barbies, after a Just Dance 2 dance marathon, Brent is out playing with his new drill, and I'm sipping on a cup of coffee, trying not to be mesmerized by the lava lamps that my girls received and somehow ended up plugged in on our fireplace hearth.

I find those things eerily hypnotizing. I can't even imagine if I was tripping on acid or smoking dope...Not that I've ever done either of those. But my brain is tired from lack of sleep and too much sugar...

We stayed home this Christmas, just the four of us. I love it. While I miss my family on the day, it is nice to just be home as a family and truly focus on why we are celebrating instead of rushing from place to place and trying to convince my girls that they really don't need to drag all of their new toys with them.

Popcorn woke me up at 2:04 AM this morning. She was bouncing our bed and joyously exclaiming "Santa came!!!"

And I barely slit my eyes open and said quite grumpily, "GO TO BED AND DO NOT GET UP UNTIL AT LEAST 5AM!!!"

And I promptly went back to sleep. Next thing I know, Bookworm is bouncing my bed. "Mom, Dad! It's after 5!"

And sure enough it was 5:58AM...

So, I drug my bleary self into the living room to be wowed by the bounty Santa brought us. A fishing pole for Bookworm, a doll for Popcorn, and he got me this awesome sign that I can't wait to decide where to put it:

How hilarious is that? Anyway, about 6:45 my phone alerted me I had a text. It read, "Well, if your kids haven't woke you, I am. Present time! Merry Christmas!" It was from my brother.

I laughed. I brought my phone into the wrapping paper explosion known as my living room and read the text. "You know, when we were little, Uncle David used to wake me up in the middle of the night to go look at toys. We would take our stockings over to the tree and hold the items up to the tree lights to try and figure out what we had." Of course, we had a real tree, not an artificial like ours is, and it was not absolutely solid with lights like mine is now. So, it really was kind of a guessing game to figure out what some things were. David was always very certain that I understood that I MUST put all of the goodies back INTO the stocking in the exact order that I REMOVED them...

It was years before I understood that rule. I simply followed it as I knew he was much better at trickiness than I was, so I'd better listen to his wisdom. After all, he'd already sent me in to our parent's room AT LEAST once to see if we could get up. I would always wonder why I had to be the one to ask if we could open presents, and he was always very honest that I was the youngest and cutest, and therefore the most likely to be able to coax them to get out of their warm bed.

Anyway, David was the master of Christmas stealth and he was quite firm on the keeping all contents in their original order. And now I laugh at that, considering there were four kids, and if Santa was as freaked about getting our stockings filled before any "creatures were stirring" like I'm sure he is at our house, then I'm pretty sure the order of filling the stocking wasn't that well inventoried.

Aaaanyway, to make a long story longer, I told the girls that David and I always peeked in our stockings before the 5AM allowed rising time...

Popcorn smiled slyly and said, "I got up and looked at all of my stuff last night." And then when she looked in Bookworm's stocking (her nosiness knows no bounds, apparently) and spotted her sister's very coveted Aunty and Uncle dollhouse dolls she simply HAD to wake her to share the excitement.

Apparently partners in sneakiness runs in the family.

P.S. Gentle Reader, I'm almost certain I've shared this at least once before. However, every year as we start to dig through our stockings (my favorite part, by the way) I grin to myself as I remember the magic of Christmas for a child.

Christmas Letters and Cats

2011-12-22T18:15:00.000-06:00

To continue his Christmas card tyranny over my life, Studmuffin gave me a lecture on the NECESSITY of giving cards to everyone in church who gave us a card. We have this mail box that sits in the hallway, and you put the cards in the box according to last name. I've always avoided this, as I see these people, and feel they are up on my life, so giving them a card seems superfluous. Studmuffin said "it's the right thing to do." Since when did he become the voice of social etiquette in this house, Gentle Reader.

He is currently signing cards that I bought last year and never got out.

The really funny thing about that is I had bought the cards and even ADDRESSED THE STUPID ENVELOPES, but because I had never gotten around to writing my annual Christmas letter, I REFUSED TO MAIL THEM OUT!! Guess what? As of last week we had ten cards in our church box...And I had exactly ten envelopes left over that weren't addressed.

If that isn't the hand of God reaching down and saving me from a lecture from my husband, Gentle Reader, I don't know what is!

I did write my letter this year. Studmuffin made sure it got printed, as I really was resisting even writing the darn thing...I've become a little jaded as in previous years I've mailed out well over 50 cards and only gotten 10-15 back...Please, refrain from mentioning that the gift Christ gave us was freely given, and thankfully I don't have to earn it.

I confess I'm a little too human in the Christmas card department. This year I weeded my list down to 30, not counting the ones my husband is signing to place lovingly in the church Christmas mail box.

In other completely unrelated news, guess who came to our house last Friday night?

Popcorn was so excited I thought she was going to weep. All she wanted for Christmas/birthday was a kitten. However, since we have TWO children, and we previously had TWO kittens, Studmuffin felt quite certain we needed TWO more cats (remember ours disappeared).

Are we insane, or WHAT???

So, just to clarify the count: We have two dogs, Kelsey and Chesney, both of which live in the house about 50 percent of the time. We have Oliver, the tom cat who will live forever and ever as far as my children are concerned. He lives outside. Unless he decides to live in the garage. Or the house. Or even Studmuffin's shop. Basically, Oliver is king of this castle, and he lives wherever he wants to...

And now, to add to this chaos we have two four month old Russian Blue cats. They are litter mates, and were headed to the pound, until we decided to "save" them and give them to the girls.

I'm sure there's a diagnosis for crazy people like us, but I really don't want to know what it is.

A Touch of Class.

2011-12-16T17:42:00.002-06:00

Tuesday night the girls were in bed reading...

I was laying on the couch with my sedative (a fleece blanket over me and ice pack to my lower back.) I was all decked out in my very best flannel pajamas.

At one point (somewhere between Last Man Standing and before we started Buffy on Netflix) Brent turned to me and said, "Bret called to tell me he decided to mount Barrett's buck." Bret is his brother. Barrett is his nephew. This year Barrett got a ten point buck when they went hunting...

Brent got NUTHIN'. Unless one counts the privilege of taking his nephew hunting...And I can assure you he doesn't.

Not that I care if he gets a deer... Well, I care. But only because my husband feel his testosterone levels are somehow linked to the quantity of animals he kills per year.

Anyway, he felt the need to tell me Barrett's deer will be mounted.

I tried to look interested...Secretly, I was just relieved said deer will not be in MY house...

"He's decided on the European mount."

Great. He expects interaction with this conversation...

"What does that mean?" I inquired brightly.

"It's where they use this super confusing process that leaches all of the flesh off of the skull to make it super white..."

Okay, that's not what he said. But I think that was the gist of it.

"Yuck. Who would want to do that? Mount a deer skull in their living room? Gross."

He suddenly sat upright from his reclining position. "I'm going to do it with the next coyote I get. It's really classy!"

And at that, Gentle Reader, I began to laugh. Hard.

And loud.

And quite obnoxiously...

I'm talking straight from the gut laughter.

Seriously? A deer skull? CLASSY????

He got a little huffy on me. I have no idea why.

"I'll prove it to you! Just wait!" And he victoriously pulled up a picture much like this on the computer:

Gentle Reader, I am afraid this did NOT make me come around to his way of thinking...I fear it only made me laugh harder...

He was quite put out with me...

While in no way am I able to deny that I lack all sorts of sophistication or refinement, I can't quite figure out how that monstrosity is going to elevate us in any sort of societal circles.

But that's just me.

Thoughts?

The Worst Cheerleader. In the WORLD!!!

2011-12-15T15:47:00.003-06:00

I went to the chiropractor yesterday,and somehow he convinced me I need to return today...

I was nervous and needed a Xanax before going...However, since I have a little bit of fear when it comes to mind altering substances, and alas I also had no prescription for such substances, I compensated instead with three cups of coffee. Because that is how I always wisely handle stress. Well, either coffee or cleaning, but since I was down in the back, cleaning was out.

Anyway, while at the chiropractor, I learned he had recently been in my home town to go quail hunting, and that the basketball tournament was going on...And he was blown away by how packed a town of 1200 could be for just a tournament.

I told him I remembered this tournament well. It was always the second weekend of December when I was in school. I can remember because I often had to cheer on my birthday...

And that annoyed me.

It was kind of like going to work on your birthday. It just shouldn't happen. As a matter of fact, I have ALWAYS taken the day off on my birthday, except this year someone else asked off before I got the chance (I don't want to name names or point fingers, but seriously Tom...You act like your brother lives in California and you only see him once or twice a year. I swear, sometimes you are so SELFISH!!!)

Anyhoo...I worked. And thankfully I didn't have any patients crash...Because that happened one time when I was working on my birthday, and the entire time I was pushing drugs and trying to avoid what I feared was an inevitable code I kept thinking, "Nobody should have to deal with life and death on their birthday." So from then on I took the day off on my birthday.

But this post is not about nursing. It's about cheer leading...

And the fact that I think I was the perhaps worst cheerleader ever.

Of course, nobody realized what a TERRIBLE cheerleader I was. I kept that secret in the darkest recesses of my heart. The secret? I don't care for sports. I have no idea WHY I was a cheerleader, except it was a group that I knew I would belong in, and the group would be "my" group, and therefore I wouldn't be the loser who wasn't in sports...Because that's sadly kind of how small town life is. There's the sports people, the band people, and the losers...

Hey! I don't make these rules! I'm just listing them as I saw them in high school.

So...I didn't have the self discipline to learn an instrument. Cheer leading was the only alternative I could see in my quest to avoid total dorkdom in the eyes of the greater LHS school district...

Besides the fact that I can be really loud, and I am bossy...And let's all be real that being bossy is at the heart of cheer leading: Come on guys! You can do it! Shoot it! Shoot it!

Ooor, how about yelling DEFENSE!! DEFENSE!! over and over and over...

It's really just a giant session of lecturing athletes to do what they're supposed to be doing anyway.

Sadly, I have no good football analogies, as the only thing I garnered was that we only had four downs to get ten yards, and then we lost the ball...And touchdowns were good...And sometimes they got extra points for kicking...And I could never figure out when we were supposed to go for a field goal, or why some touchdowns were six points and others were seven...

Again. I was quite obviously the best, most dedicated cheerleader. EVER.

I did actually understand Basketball. I knew exactly what was going on all through the game.

You can congratulate me now, if you wish...

My senior year our boys basketball team was awesome. So awesome that they went to the state play offs for the first time in like twenty years or some such ridiculously large amount of time...

Do you want to know what my reaction to our play off status? It is truly a sad, sad, thing...

"Well, crap. This means I have to cheer one more game. I have to wear purple at least one more time. And I have to act like I'm happy about the whole situation or I will undoubtedly be tarred and feathered by the entire town." I'm telling you, Gentle Reader, sometimes it is just so DIFFICULT to be me. Seriously. You have no idea.

Well, based on our standings when we went into the State Tournament if we even lost one game we were eliminated. Out of the running...

O-U-T.

Out.

Guess what, Gentle Reader.

We lost. And while all of my fellow schoolmates and townsfolk who had driven 150 miles to watch their hometown heroes sweat, sacrifice, and give their all for the glory of the Tigers wept and hugged and said, "You boys played great. You did a great job. We are so proud of you..." and blahbideeblahblahblah....yadayadayada...

I sat their and put on my best, most sincerely sympathetic look and secretly in my heart of hearts said, "Thank goodness I never have to wear purple again for as long as I live."

And I didn't for over fifteen years. In the last two years or so plum has gradually made an appearance in my wardrobe. But purple as in royal purple with gold like the LA Lakers?

Not so much Gentle Reader.

Not. So. Much.

And you thought I had already revealed all of my deep dark secrets!

NO PETS ALLOWED

2011-12-12T19:25:00.000-06:00

My parents never allowed us to have pets in the house.

Never.

Never.

NEVER!!!

I once had a beautiful calico kitty that I got from my Aunt Christina named Callie. It seemed as if she was in going to live in the house forEVER...It seems very unlikely that she was in the house for any lengthy period of time at all, but I do know it was definitely long enough for me to fall madly in love with her and be ready for her to stay inside forever and ever and EV-UH!!!

One day my dad was home sick. Now remember, Dad is a farmer/rancher. If he was home sick, he was SICK sick, not just "I feel a little crummy, so I think I'll stay in and rest" sick.

So Dad was home sick. And lying in bed. Surely he was knocking on death's door for these two events to occur.

I came home from school and Callie was outside. I went in the house with all of my righteous indignation as only a middle school girl can have. Believe me, I'm becoming VERY familiar with the righteous indignation of middle school girls...

"DAAaaadddd, why is Callie outside? She is an INSIDE cat."

Dad looked at me in all of his fatherly fatherliness and he said quite sternly with no voice raised (he seldom raised his voice, if anything when he was REALLY angry he would talk very quiet and I'd cry), "That damn cat will never be in this house again."

Shock! Horror!!! He swore! And in reference to my precious beautiful sweet little kitty!

"But DAAAaaaddd, I want her to be an inside cat."

"That damn cat climbed on my chest and pooped on me while I was asleep! She will NOT come back in."

And that was that. Thankfully, I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut on any further thoughts regarding the unfairness of an outdoor cat.

But just in case any of you happened to wonder about the relevance of the above photos of FOUR dogs...

These are all my parents granddogs that come INSIDE the house every time their children descend on them.

I have strictly forbidden any reptiles in our house...Especially pet snakes.

I'm a little nervous about what sort of grandpets my children will come toting home in about twenty years or so...

Busting My Buttons

2011-12-11T22:07:00.003-06:00

I told this story at work this week.

Then I regretted it, as it portrays me as perhaps even more pitiful than my coworkers already view me...Well, not all of my coworkers, but some, and the some were in the room as I told my tale...After all, my perception (which is probably very skewed) is that they can go buy a new outfit, or (covet covet covet) new knee boots at any time, and not suffer feelings of remorse and guilt...Of course most of my female coworkers don't have to buy clothes for growing children... And they may not have the fear of debt that I have...

Anyhoo, this story was prompted by my friend telling a group of "the girls" in the break room about her doctor scolding her for weight loss. She is a little bit of a thing, and she is going through a very tough time, and is losing weight she doesn't have to lose...She apparently can't eat when she's stressed.

Can we just stop right here and say I totally CAN'T relate? I eat when I'm happy. I eat when I'm sad. I eat when I'm stressed. I eat, I eat, I eat.

Moving on...

She was talking about the revelation that with her dress pants she could move the button over so that they wouldn't fall down!

And then, this story unfolded from my lips. A story that I regretted starting before I was even barely into it. Because, clearly none of them could relate, and they were all flabbergasted that I would own such a thing, much less admit to it...

Are you confused? Well, allow me to explain.

I have this beautiful pencil skirt. It is black Pendleton wool. And it belonged to my Grandma Irene who is 91 years old...It somehow moved from Dawn, to Paula, and ended with me....I have gone long periods with not wearing it, but then the mood strikes and a black pencil skirt with my black high heels, or better yet my high heeled knee boots is just the thing. If you know nothing about Pendleton wool, let me assure you that it is not scratchy. This skirt has no lining, but it is not itchy at all. It is soft and warm and gorgeous, even if it is probably 50 years old...

But that is not the story. Well, the skirt is the story. But it is really just the background to the story, and you all know my stories MUST have background!

Several Sundays ago, when it was quite cold I decided it was a Grandma's skirt kind of day. Complete with a bright blue turquoise cashmere sweater and lovely fuchsia scarf tied artfully around my neck. I was feeling quite pleased with my wardrobe endeavors, Gentle Reader. Quite pleased, indeed...

As I pulled on the skirt I thought to myself, "My, this sucker is tight. Oh well, no big lunch with this puppy on!" And then as I zipped it up, the hook that goes to the hook and eye closure (it has a button on the outside with a hook and eye inside) fell off. I sat it on my dresser and decided that the fifty year old thread had given out, but I needed to be at church in like ten minutes for praise team rehearsal, so I needed to get going...

I told Studmuffin goodbye and was hollering at the children to please brush their hair before leaving, and was headed out the door when a gigantic sneeze over powered me.

And my button flew off and across the room!

Well, I decided I apparently needed to do garment repair double quick. I grabbed a spool of black thread and quickly sewed back on the hook, and moved the button over about a quarter of an inch and lo and behold that skirt was loads more comfortable!

I arrived to rehearsal a few minutes late, but praising God that he made sure I sneezed BEFORE I left the house so my button didn't go flying while I was on stage!

Do you know what my coworkers had to say about this story? Not much, Gentle Reader. Not much. They would not believe me that the skirt is a timeless classic. They were a little horrified that I was wearing a skirt that was fifty (maybe even sixty if I really think about it) years old.

Perhaps that is what motivated me to actually buy new clothes for myself last Friday?

By the way: My hair was so pitiful today that I actually washed and BLEW IT OUT and then USED THE FLAT IRON! It took me twenty five minutes just to do my hair. How do people stand it? I am so used to just throwing in a little curl cream and letting it air dry as I do various chores. I think I will have to get my hair cut sometime in the near future.

My husband stated he loves my hair straight.

"Are you saying you don't like it curly?"

Poor man. He just can't win. Regardless, I can barely be bothered to do skin care, so I'm pretty sure my hair will continue to be it's normally wild curly self...

And having straight hair makes me wonder: How do people with straight hair stand it? My curly hair stays away from my face and really never touches my skin or face. My straight hair tickles my neck and is constantly touching my cheeks. It is driving me CRAZY and my hands are constantly in it...

Yes, I simply MUST schedule a hair cut soon.

From Frizzy Hair to Christmas Tidings

2011-12-10T09:43:00.001-06:00

I turned 36 yesterday. It was a GREAT day. My husband took the entire family to eat at Red Lobster. Popcorn insisted on ordering lobster.

She thought it was the scariest looking thing ever. But she ate a few bites...And she tried scallops and shrimp cooked three different ways, none of which were fried popcorn shrimp.

She mostly ate her rice, some steamed broccoli and cheddar biscuits.

I tried not to shudder at the fact that I could feed the family for a week on what we paid for one meal.

You will be pleased to know that I then went shopping. FOR MYSELF. And I bought stuff for myself alone!!! I know I refer to shopping a lot in this blog, but what my followers who know me only through blogland don't realize is that I am still wearing clothes from before my children were born. It is a sad thing to look in my closet. I thought of getting rid of everything over three years old. But then I realized I'd have no clothes...

My back has been bothering me. I feel as if my body has betrayed me. I exercise. I watch my weight. I lift patients that weigh as much or more than me...And that seems to have outweighed all of my endeavors to have a healthy back...Did you know I think people who have back pain are annoying?

Well, anyway I find myself VERY annoying, so therefore I'm sure my coworkers are getting tired of my refusal to lift patients this week.

My hair is also betraying me. I need to color it. I haven't had it cut since late June. It is a frizzy mess with gray roots showing. Perhaps I shall take time from my life to get it cut. Perhaps I have betrayed it instead of vice versa.

I feel as if I should write my Christmas letter/cards. However, I can't decide what to say. Should I tell them of my aging body? Perhaps I'll mention my frizzy hair and kids with dramatic tendencies that comes from who knows where.

Or maybe I'll tell them all about our animals...How we went from two to five in just a matter of weeks. And now we are back down to three. Our pregnant female cat disappeared one day and we haven't seen her since. Of course we have hawks and owls and of course the coyotes who come to my back fence and look in at our animals on a daily basis...Now all Popcorn wants for her birthday is a little kitten. SOOoooo. Does anyone have a kitten who will be ready to wean on December thirtieth?

Studmuffin is finishing our Christmas shopping today. At least I think he's finishing it. Until I remember another gift I forgot, we are finished...

Do you need a Chesney story?

Well, as you can see from my last few posts, we have new decorations out. She has been really good to leave them alone, as being scolded makes her tremble in fear. Unless it involves Popcorn's socks, and then she will risk severe punishment for a taste of that delightful funk...Anyway, a few days ago I heard Bookworm yelling "Chesney, no!!" And then I heard Popcorn's panicked rejoinder...

I came in the room to find them wresting a porcelain doll that my Grandmama gave me for Christmas one year as a child from her jaws. My grandparents seldom gave us gifts as they had 16 grandchildren and five children...So obviously buying gifts would be a little overwhelming. Well, one year they gave all of their smaller granddaughters a little porcelain doll. Here is what mine looks like:

Isn't she cute posed on the reindeer my mother in law made a few years back? She used to have a bonnet, but it has been lost at some point through the years.

Anyway, I offered Chesney a sock, and she quickly dropped the doll with no complaints. The girls both chorused relief, as it would be terrible if Chesney ate the doll. I agreed whole heartedly. Then Bookworm said, "Yes, those bits of porcelain would have cut up her insides"...And I silently thought that I wasn't particularly thinking of the harm the DOLL would do her if she ate it, but rather the harm I would do the DOG if she ate the DOLL!

The doll is now happily posed safely in a tea cup on my piano, out of the jaws of death...

And the dog is currently safely chewing on an old sock that I have Popcorn put on every day or so, just to keep the right proportion of her foot funk in it, (okay not really, but only because Popcorn is a disobedient child and refuses to humor me) and she is quietly lying at my feet by the fire, and Kelsey is sitting with her head on my arm rest...

And I can't help but be sort of glad that we have dogs in the house.

Considering I was raised in a no pets allowed in the house family, I never thought I'd say that!

Well, I shall sign off now. But not before I end with yesterday's chuckle courtesy of Bookworm. The middle school Gifted and Talented children were given the privilege of going to see the Nutcracker in Norman. AND they got to go to OU the campus and eat! ALL BY THEMSELVES!! (We will not discuss the stress hives I had over this.) Anyway, I asked her what she thought of the Nutcracker...Well, it seems she was too distracted by those tight tights the men were wearing. Let's just say that she never wanted to see that many details of strange men's anatomy.

Then, she and her buddy went to eat at ChikfilA. However, her friend only had five dollars, and they were hoping to hit Starbucks before they had to return to school...Well, Bookworm pointed out that if they ordered just a sandwich and water they would have enough left to get cocoa at Starbucks. Yes, my 11 year old has mad money skills...

So, they ventured into Starbucks after their feast of a classic ChikfilA sandwich and filtered water...They ordered the smallest hot chocolate they had...

"And Mom, can you believe they charged four bucks for a little cup of hot chocolate?!! You could buy a whole box of hot cocoa mix for like a dollar! And it didn't even taste good. They overflowed it with whipped cream and it tasted horrible!" Of course, my kids hate whipped cream, and she didn't know to tell them to hold the whipped cream.

So, I'm happy to report I'm raising a daughter who recognizes the value of a dollar, and knows how to make her money stretch...And she values modesty...

But I have to confess that my other daughter said, "I want to go see that!" when Bookworm described her horror over them men's apparel.

So, there ya go. My universe is apparently in balance.

More Christmas Traditions

2011-12-08T09:35:00.002-06:00

Are you sick of Christmas posts yet?

Well, I'm sorry, but I have at least one more for you...

Brent asked me to get my tires rotated today. I loathe doing anything of that nature...So, I quickly informed I simply would have no time to deal with such frivolities today. No INDEED.

Instead I must do forty dozen loads of laundry...When will my children learn that their jeans do not need to go in the laundry every blessed time they remove them? When, when, when, when, my soul is crying out. After all, everyone else realizes you must change your underwear every day. And a new shirt is required daily...But pants? You can wear pants FOR.EV.ER!

Oh, and I must go to the store for some supplies for the endless Christmas baking I'm wanting to begin.

Oh, and I'm ever so eager to get going on my annual Christmas obsessions!

Do you have any Christmas obsessions? I have too many to count, but here are just a few I have to share with you.

Color you excited!

Hold on to your seats, Gentle Reader!!!

Every year I buy a Christmas jigsaw puzzle. And I obsess over it. And I sit down to finish one little area...

And two hours later my back aches from bending over and changing positions twenty times to get a new perspective on the pieces. This year I wisely bought a 550 piece puzzle so my obsession could be a little shorter lived. Oh, and the annual Christmas jigsaw puzzle is another reason I simply had to get out the table that Brent was so agreeable to pack away for all of thirty minutes last weekend.

I love Walter Wick books. I love that his pictures tell a story, and I love the challenge of finding each hidden item. I buy a new Christmas book every time I see one. I saw a Halloween one this year and barely restrained myself from starting a new obsession.

As I sit on my recliner, by the fireplace where all recliners belong, and type a few posts to sustain my eager readers for the next several days, I'm day dreaming of making fudge. And ginger cookies. Oh, and I'm very eager to make some shaped sugar cookies, and get an assembly line of butter frosting going for a great big cookie decorating frenzy!

I think I will stick to a quick batch of fudge...But first I'm off to wrap some gifts!

For now.

The Prettiest Sight to See...

2011-12-07T09:32:00.000-06:00

Is the holly that will be on your own front door!

(Name that tune.)

I always say that fall decorations are my favorite...

Until it's time to drag out all of our Christmas decorations, and then I realize that these are my favorite decorations. I love the fall for the colors, and the change from blistering heat to energizing cool weather...But I love my Christmas decorations as they are surrounded with happy memories, and many of them were made with love by friends and family.`

My mom made this snow man for me one Christmas. How cute is he?

A lady at work was talking about putting her tree up yesterday. Her theme is cowboy with hats and boots and ropes. She asked me what my theme was. She literally laughed at me when I said my tree is hodgepodge..."I suppose you have hand made ornaments on there too?" I replied, "Of course!" and she laughed even harder...

I decided she had never seen my tree, so she is unable to understand the simple beauty of a tree bursting with ornaments.

Could this tree or this girl BE more beautiful? The girl was all dressed up for her very first band concert. Can I just say, she totally rocked some "Jingle Bell Rock." I love my tree, and I love my hand made tree skirt from my mom! And I love all of the homemade gifts I can see in just a glimpse, complete with all of the ornaments my husband and I've exchanged through the year.

I love this little glimpse of love. The Santa and Mrs. Clause, who obviously takes better care of herself than good ole Saint Nick...And the tree made at some Christmas party by Bookworm in 2006. And then I see the snowman that appeared in my stocking one year. I was trying to remember who made me the crocheted stocking. I know I've had it since I was a child. Any input from my mom would be helpful here. You can see that instead of sparkly tinsel we use wooden bead garlands, that I bought the year I graduated nursing school. I know when I bought them because I had a real income, and it was the first year we weren't using a tree we got from Brent's grandma, and we had money to buy ornaments! Our hand me down tree was hideously lovely affair with the thick stove pipe cleaner branches.

These adorable ceramic snowmen were from my Grandmama Dolly's house. We lost her this past January, and her birthday is December 21, so they will always make me smile.

See the wreath? My family has a homemade gift exchange tradition (which the men are trying to rebel and stop, but I vote we women stand firm and united.) My sister made that lovely wreath for me! The tall ceramic angel was a gift from Grandmama Dolly one year. The tea cup was a gift from my sister Dawn several years ago, the tree cut out of old barn siding was made early in our marriage alongside my mother in law...Read here: She told me step by step what to do, and wisely allowed me very few tasks. Translation: I think I mostly cheered her on! Also, if you enlarge the picture you can see a cute little Santa painted on a piece of drift wood, again made by my mother in law! Finally, the Nativity. I just love Nativity scenes. I have four scattered through my house, from this ceramic one given to us on our first Christmas by my mom, to a wooden folk art Nativity, and even an inexpensive one I bought solely so my girls could have one to play with. It is a cheap little resin affair I got at Walmart for about five bucks. But the girls look forward to getting out every year!

So. There is more than you ever wanted to know about my Christmas ornaments. I have so many I find it ridiculous when I try to pack it all away, or have to hall it all out. But then, as I start scattering them around, and packing away our "every day" decorations in order to give our house a celebratory feel, I can't help but feel you can never have too many Christmas decorations!

Oh, and I feel I MUST respond to KiteFlyer's comments on my previous two posts: First of all, that TV is the largest one we've ever owned, and when we got it, we thought it was ginormous! And by the way, that was only a few months ago. Second, my husband DOES use antlers in all of his decorating, and his favorite character from Beauty and the Beast is most certainly Gaston. Third, the balls are still there!

What about you? What are your very favorite ornaments?

Glimpses of Progress

2011-12-05T14:01:00.013-06:00

I got the chance to chat with a friend from Arlington, TX. It is amazing that we have lived apart for seven years now, yet when we talk, we are right back to where we were before, with merely a lack of specifics in our daily lives to fill in...But the basics of the friendship are still there.

Do you have friends like that? I think they are truly the best kind to have.

Anyway, I learned that she moved into a new house TWO MONTHS AGO!! And she had failed to notify me she was even considering moving! Gasp!

Then, yesterday afternoon in the middle of my furniture crisis I had a thought, "Didn't Roni close on her new house yesterday? Does that mean she's moving in today? I wonder if I can pawn any of my furniture off on her, since she's adding 2000 square feet of living space..."

So, I called her. And then I sent her a picture of the roll top desk that Brent and I actually bought for ourselves with our very own money the first year of our marriage.

It is beautiful. But it isn't as practical as it once was, as we NEVER use our desk top computer. Consequently, the desk has become a place for throwing, piling, or shoving anything we don't want to deal with...

And it was taking up precious living space.

Before I knew what quite happened, we were delivering the desk to her, and Brent was helping Roni's husband unload and carry furniture.

We got home about 7pm last night to discover that sure enough! The Christmas boxes were open and strewn all over the house. The tree was semi erected, and I had decided to move the dining room table that had belonged to my great great grandmother needed to go.

Don't worry. Not AWAY away. Just to the attic...

So, Brent disassembled it...

And the top would NOT fit in the attic. Nor would it fit under the bed...

But, the good news of cleaning out from under the bed, is we found this zither that my mother in law dumped on me at some point. I've officially become her "I hate to get rid of this, but I don't really want it, so I'll give it to Andi" person. In other words: I'm her land fill...

The girls quickly pounced on the zither, and quickly endeavored to learn Silent Night.

After much shoving of furniture around boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations, I ended up with this arrangement:

The recliner is now where all recliners belong: By the fireplace.

The TV is where I would have put it the day we moved in, if not for the lack of cable cords there. However, now that we only have antenna, that problem is solved! And, the tree is now where the desk was, so my Grandmama Dolly chair still has a home under the window dividing our dining and living room!

Please refrain from letting your eye wander to the room beyond the living room. I still have stacks of ~~junk~~ decorations on my hutch in the dining room to sort through and eliminate or pack away.

Any ideas as to why blogger decided to flip this picture??? it won't even let me rotate it sideways in the hopes that it loads correctly. Weird.

As you can see, the table is back. We had sort of toyed with storing it disassembled in the garage. But then I realized I missed it. And it had only been gone a few hours...

So, Brent got out his screw driver and reassembled it, and I'm proud to say he did not utter one word of complaint...

So, today my folks are coming down to watch the girls in their church Christmas program. And as of 1:30 pm, I had boxes hither thither and yon...

And I am missing a box of decorations. It is the box with half of my Christmas dishes in it. We looked through every single box in the attic. Twice. We have no idea where it's gone. It has Santa's milk glass in it! What will Santa drink out of with no specially designated mug! It has our stockings in it! And my favorite red table cloth with white snow flakes all over it!

*Sigh*

Well, the good news was, as I dug through too many boxes that are filled with ~~junk~~ treasure to admit, I realized I simply HAD to drag down two more boxes than planned...

Does anyone remember these red Avon dishes? I always loved them. One of my friends from childhood's mother gave them to my mother for me to have...Is that statement confusing, or what? You see, Peggy's kids did not WANT the dishes, and I think she bought them from my mom when she sold Avon. Hence, she decided that I would enjoy them. Apparently, even as a child I accepted all gifts offered to me. At least, that's the only reason I can imagine for her suddenly giving me all these lovely dishes...Oh, and there are several more than I have pictured! Isn't that just crazy?

Oh, and what do you think of the red balls suspended from the antlers in the light fixture? Studmuffin felt they detracted from the overall manliness of the antlers. I said quit being a baby...

I had such fun arranging the table. I have extra place settings, and plan to use these dishes as this is the table we eat at every day, and we truly endeavor to eat dinner together as a family every night. I will load them in the dishwasher, and pull the extra out of the cabinet!

Look at me and my Better Homes and Gardens self!!!

Or, is it Better Trailers and Gardens?

How about you? Are you dragging out decorations and treating it as a rare treat to dig through and rediscover ornaments that were home made or given to commemorate your love for your husband?

I would love to hear your Christmas traditions!

Stay tuned for glimpses of my pitiful attempts to add Christmas cheer to other nooks and crannies in the house!

Aren't you just on pins and needles??

I'm Feeling Chatty, But I'm Home Alone...

2011-12-03T21:39:00.000-06:00

So, I decided to open a post and share my super important thoughts with you! Brent and the girls are Christmas shopping, and I dare not disrupt that.

It is raining. Chesney is really good about ringing the chimes to go out now. However rain and golden retriever equals one stinky dog. I am tempted to take away her water so we won't have to go outside to potty...

The girls scratched up my Santa Baby cd. I have resorted to Clay Aiken's Christmas album which is really old, and makes me understand why some people hate Christmas music. He is just so Broadway...And I love Broadway. But not Broadway Christmas music...I prefer jazzy versions.

My Grandmama Dolly chair is in my normal Christmas tree spot. Not sure where to move it. Or where an alternate place for the tree is. I have too much furniture. Please don't offer any more pieces to me, as I'm terrible at saying "no" and am usually quite convinced I NEED whatever is being offered...

Unless you're offering new couches...that I get to pick out. Mine were worn out a few years ago...Now they are disintegrating at an alarming pace. I've taken to sitting on a pillow when I sit on them as they sink so far in. Is that an embarrassing thing to admit? I already have blankets tucked under the cushions in an effort to fluff them...I just don't understand. They are Lazy Boy. I bought them in 1997. Surely that is practically brand new in Lazy Boy standards???

I moved Chesney's old crate to the garage, to be toted up to the attic by Studmuffin when he takes up the empty Christmas boxes, and now full fall decoration boxes. This was a significant decision as Freckles had taken over Chesney's crate. We were leaving it there, as we figured she was going to have her kittens in there. So, just to be clear we had a dog bed for Kelsey, a small crate for Freckles and a large crate (big enough to last until she's full grown) for Chesney all in my living room...

Freckles went missing some time after lunch on Tuesday. We have not seen her since she went outside. It was too early for kittens, so I know she hasn't gone off to have them. And she is the neediest cat I ever met, in that she constantly wants petted and talked to.

So, she's truly gone. We are all super sad. I hope the crate being gone doesn't start a fresh wave of tears from Popcorn.

Who, by the way is now asking Santa for a kitten for Christmas. Good grief. Maybe the erected tree will distract her from the missing crate...

Even the tiniest piece of shell in a big snack bowl full of candied pecans is enough of a dirt taste to make the entire bowl, including those you already ate, completely unappetizing.

And I'm officially having a "we have too much furniture in this house" fit...And most of it was handed down to me, so I feel as if I'm stuck with it for the rest of my life...

Of course, the problem is that we moved to a house that is minus an office and family room...And we have only parted with one sofa and one recliner. So, just in case you don't grasp what I'm saying, I've crammed three rooms worth of furniture into one room. Yes, my living room is a good size. But let's be real here: It isn't THAT big!

I've been in this house three and a half years...Which is nearly at our maximum for one home. Consequently I'm feeling the itch to paint or get all new furniture, or possibly move...

Only one thing is very clear:

Drastic measures are about to be taken, Gentle Reader. You want a little sneak peak don't ya?

Here you go:

Drastic. So stay tuned.

A Terribly Lengthy Post, So If you Have Anything Better to Do, I Understand

2011-12-02T21:56:00.000-06:00

Last night we had our annual Ladies Taste of Christmas at church...Each lady brings a snack to share and hopefully will bring an idea for decorating or crafts to make...There are tables set up with lovely cloths to enhance your crafts...

I stayed up late Wednesday night when I realized I was going to have to rush from work to gymnastics for Popcorn then to directly to the event...I had to stay up late so that I had a snack to share!

Heaven forbid I show up to a church social with no snack to share!!

Guess what?

I'm really glad I made those candied pecans as we nearly ran out of food...

NOT!!!

(does anyone say "not" anymore?)

No, in fact the food went on forever and ever. It was so much as to be disturbing.

I had to lead carols...

A Capella...

And I assure you that was NOT awkward in any way shape or form.

The worst singing experiences are in front of small crowds where you are forced to use a mike when CLEARLY it is not needed, and you can see the face of every single person in the room. Give me a crowd that I can't see with a spotlight in my eyes on a stage over a small intimate gathering any day!

And the Christmas craft idea/decorating idea? Well, the same ladies that ALWAYS display did fantastic. I decided to be brave and bring samples of the ornaments my girls are making for friends. And I brought my gift I made for my family's home made gift exchange...

I seriously wanted to hide my pitiful offerings, but decided instead to proudly display my crafts for all of those noncrafty folks that I know are SOMEWHERE out there (although they are obviously NOT bloggers as so many of you are crazy creative.) I put out my girls little ornaments, and my humble home made gift.

And I mentally said "Take that Super Crafters!"

I had a BRILLIANT idea for a post today while I was at work.

I have no idea what it was....

I do know that somehow my nine year old is unable to understand time...Oh, she can read the time...And she can write any given time on a face of a clock...

Ask her what time 5 past seven is?

She is completely baffled...

I have explained it and explained it...

She. Doesn't. Get. It.

I'm pretty sure that this is a failure of the public school system and in no way any fault of mine...

The same reason she doesn't understand that 75 cents is three quarters of a dollar...Ask her how much three quarters is worth and she knows it's 75 cents...Try to change that to three quarters of a dollar and she is utterly confounded...

Same with quarter after 9, or a quarter to 8....

HELP!!! I went online and have printed off some time practice sheets. We are starting at the very basic and gradually working up.

Guess what else? My sixth grader scored off the charts on the achievement test in math.

Strangely, I still have to explain her math to her nearly every night...She will do an ENTIRE assignment wrong, and never realize that it's wrong. Every day she brings home her math...And too many times to count she will have missed eigth or ten CONSECUTIVE problems, because they are all of the NEW problems, which she THINKS she understands, but obviously doesn't or she wouldn't miss them! So I will hand it back for her to correct...

Which of course she CAN'T do because she doesn't understand why it's wrong.

So with much weeping and gnashing of teeth on BOTH our parts, I explain the correct way to divide fractions or how to solve 3/4x=7...

And then she will do them all correctly with very few errors...

WHY am I having to teach my children their math?

Sometimes I think I should just home school them...

And then I remember that I work...

Oh, and the small fact that we have much weeping and gnashing of teeth when I'm teaching them...

So. Tonight I'd planned to get out Christmas decorations (of course first we had to put AWAY the fall decorations) but instead we ended up reviewing time and fractions.

Now I'm so mentally exhausted that I'm drinking a cup of Christmas cheer while the girls are watching The Grinch and Studmuffin sleeps on the couch...

Was this the worst post ever???

Oh, wait! I have one more issue to ~~whine~~ tell you about!

I had a lady ask me about my girls and "did I still have to work full time."

(Am I the only one who feels put on the defensive by that question?)

"Well, I actually only work 30 hours per week, which has been working out okay."

"Let's see, you've been doing that for two years now?"

(The strange thing is, I know this lady truly truly means well. She has decided to take on a mentoring role for me. I'm just not sure I'm embracing her mentorship.)

"Well, I'm not sure when I started. This summer I just worked Monday through Wednesday."

"Oh, well that's nice. What do you do for child care?"

Well, of course I no longer HAVE child care. It isn't necessary as I take them to the bus stop and Brent meets them at home after school. However, I'm not sure what we will do this summer. Bookworm will be going into seventh grade, so it seems silly to pay someone to baby sit her when I was babysitting for others by the time I was that age.

And of COURSE she regrets that.

I said, "Well, my girls are only 17 months apart, so to say they would be ALONE is not really accurate. They have each other."

And then I ended the conversation as quickly as possible and sat down to be surrounded by SAHM's who I love but hate because they all stay home and home school and I'm sure teach their kids "scripture in the morning and scripture at noon and scripture at bedtime" in the words of my youngest child who will be a GREAT mom...

And I realize that this post seems rather whiny when in fact I've been in a really good mood all week, riding on the high of a great weekend with family and realizing I'm nearly done Christmas shopping!

So, if one focuses on a cup of eggnog in my hand...half filled instead of half empty boxes of fall decorations...and two ridiculously beautiful girls curled up together on my couch, I have nothing to complain about!

Tomorrow Popcorn is going shopping with her dad as she is near panicked to have not even begun shopping for her sister (this is sure to take hours) and I'm assembling the tree and cleaning house in the morning so we can actually put out decorations as a family tomorrow night...

I love putting out the decorations, and my husband hates it. What is UP with that?

Oh, and I somehow volunteered myself to bring three dozen cookies to church for the annual community tree lighting put on by the chamber of commerce Monday. So, obviously I will also be baking cookies...

Which is one of my very favorite thing to do!

What are your plans for the weekend?

Pop the Hood

2011-11-23T08:39:00.000-06:00

I have much to do and little time...

However, I have a stupid Andi story that simply cannot wait, or I will forget and the story will be lost in the ether!

I left work Monday night about 6:30pm. I was hungry. I was tired and I was stressed. AND my head felt as if it was on the verge of exploding. I have been having sinus headaches complete with bulging eardrums, and I don't know if it's the drainage (that I don't think is draining) or my sinus medicine, but nothing has been tasting good and my stomach hurts when I try to eat. I COULD take a Zantac or a Pepcid...OR I could just let this cook and see if I drop that last five pounds that I've talked about losing since I was 18 years old.

Anyhoo. I left work. It was dark. It was raining. I HATE driving in the dark.

Add rain?

Fuggettaboutit....I find it nearly impossible to distinguish where the lanes are with the overwhelming reflection of other cars lights...Ugh. My shoulders are knotting just thinking about it.

I was white knuckle driving and my heart did a happy dance when I pulled on to my south bound road where all I had to do was get over to the left lane and stay there...

And alarms started going off in my car.

STABILITRACK SYSTEM FAILURE!!!

SERVICE BRAKES SOON!!!

DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING!

One of the lights on my dash was my emergency brake light. I decided to try and pop the brake.

Because maybe somehow by some weird supernatural force of the universe it had become partially engaged as I was driving...

So I reached down with my left hand, never DARING to take my eyes off of the rain slick roads and popped the brake.

AAAANNNNND another light started blinking:

HOOD OPEN!

I had popped the stupid hood!! Thank goodness for the lever that has to manually released or my darn hood would have been flying up as I was driving!

So, I pulled off the interstate in the hood and pulled into the projects (literally) got out, dashed to the front of my car and slammed the hood back open...I figured that as cold as it was and with the rain pouring down, no gang fights would be going down as I pulled over. And I doubted any mass murderers would be sitting in wait for a stupid chick who doesn't know how to operate her car's emergency break to pull over.

And guess what? My emergency brake in this new fangled vehicle is NOT released by a lever under the dash! No sirree bob! It is released by pressing in on the brake again!

Oh... and just so ya know: The brake lights went off after I pulled over, but my stabilitrack system stayed lit until I got to Braum's where I ran in to grab milk, eggs, and butter. When I went back to start my car, all lights were off and no alarm bells were ringing!

All that drama.

For nothin'!

Okay. I'm off to officially do the gargantuan list of tasks I've given myself to accomplish by 2pm. Have a blessed Thanksgiving and I pray that you take time out of your hustle and bustle of preparing to be with friends and family to thank God for all He's given you this year!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

A Three Step Picture Tutorial to a Happier Mommy.

2011-11-21T11:10:00.010-06:00

Oh no! What shall I do??? The toilet paper roll is empty!!!

I know! I will get another roll from the cabinet!!

There they are! All nice and lined up, ready for the next person who needs it! I'm so thankful I have a mommy who has a phobia about running out of toilet paper!

There! I will sit it right here where it's nice and handy to all.

A few uses later the toilet paper roll has now moved from the back of the toilet to be stacked on top of the empty roll...

Fortunately for this family, they have a mommy who knows how to not only change the roll, but take a picture tutorial so they will NEVER have to stack roll upon roll upon roll...

Step One: Remove old toilet paper roll. This step is very crucial. You see, the NEW roll will not fit on until the OLD roll has been removed!

Step Two: Throw the OLD roll away! This may seem superfluous, but I guarantee, your mother needs her sanity. Please, please, by all that is good and holy: THROW AWAY THE OLD ROLL! I have heard rumors that sometimes something simple as an empty toilet paper roll left lying on the floor has caused lesser mommies than yours to lose her temper. Unfathomable as it all seems, I fear this rumor may have a tiny seed of truth to it.

Step Three: Place the NEW roll on the toilet paper dispenser, and snap it back in place.

And there you have it, folks. Three simple steps to a happier saner mommy.

Gentle Reader: Please feel free to print and post this easy Three Step Tutorial to a Happier Saner, Less Prone to Temper Tantrums Mommy in your own house.

Your welcome.

Updates

2011-11-20T11:03:00.011-06:00

I found the dead smell in my garage...

Thankfully it was NOT the missing cat...Merely a mouse that I actually discovered AFTER the stench went away.

I discovered it because my garage door wasn't working one day...

Then I realized the deep freeze wasn't running...

And then I realized NONE of the outlets in the garage worked...

And then I envisioned a dead cat with a chewed cord in it's mouth...Because the puppy was still alive so OBVIOUSLY it wasn't her...

But alas, it was a receptacle that had gone bad due to a long story that I shall not explain as it's too tedious...Let's just say Studmuffin replaced the receptacle and all is well, and the meat in the freezer was still good...

Whew!

Oh, did I mention this all happened the same day I found ANOTHER black widow in my house? The pest control dude came, and sprayed the inside and out and bombed the attic, and explained that it was merely because it is getting cold so they were trying to get in...

I mentioned I really don't care why they are there, they simply shouldn't be!!! So, over Thanksgiving I will grab some hedge apples to put in baskets at my doors to see if that helps. My sister, the giver of information, told me they are supposed to repel insects...

I think we may have kittens in January...

Freckles is apparently no longer a kitten if her trampy ways are anything to go buy. Two tom cats had a fight on our front porch last week. And last Wednesday she came in with a wet neck...

Popcorn pointed out she must have found a mate...

And I was a little shocked to realize how nonchalant and well versed my child was about the mating rituals of animals...

I think we will bring her in the house in the week or so before she's due so we won't have to worry about Oliver getting the kittens. Brent has NOT come around to this way of thinkin'...

If I fail to convince him of the joy of a basket of kittens in a closet, then perhaps we will put a litter box in the shop so she can have them in the boat...Because that's where ALL of the cats have kittens at my parents! And Oliver can't get in the shop if we are vigilant to keep him out...

And the threat of kittens in his boat is a sure way to let us have kittens in the house!!!

Not that I'm manipulative like that or anything...

And then, of course we must KEEP Freckles in the house so we can get her spayed BEFORE she goes back in heat...Because while I REALLY want one litter of kittens to snuggle and enjoy on a cold winter's day...I do not want ENDLESS litters of kittens!

Now. I really should get some house work done...Or at the very least get out of my pajamas. I have a date with my niece Brooke today after she finishes touring OU. I haven't seen her in ages, so that will be great!

Weather Center of the Universe...

2011-11-19T10:32:00.001-06:00

My mom emailed this to me...And while I readily admit I hardly ever actually READ any of the emails I receive unless I know that they are truly directed towards me, I actually opened and read this one! So, for all of you who ask if I read that funny email you sent...Probably not. However, if you sent an actual message to me for ME, then yes, I read it...

Unless I mistook it for a forwarded email, then no...I didn't read it...

Yes... I'm shallow and temperamental...And easily bored...And yet I'm frustrated by my child who lacks focus and is annoyed by menial tasks that do not entertain her...

So, here's the email my mom sent me. It was titled "Tuesday in Oklahoma," lest any of you are confused by the last statement...

Today's weather report has a number of safety precautions you should take note of:

*Tornadoes are coming - seek shelter in the interior of your house.

*Earthquakes are coming - avoid the interior of your home.

*There's lightning outside - avoid high ground...

*There's a flash flood warning - avoid low ground...

*Hail is present - avoid open areas.

*Parts of the state have received over 5" of rain in three hours.

*However - we have a burn ban.

Welcome to Wednesday in Oklahoma.

And Then I Ran Into the Door

2011-11-14T12:57:00.001-06:00

Saturday was a big day in humiliating moments...

Sooooo if we're judging a day's success in ratio to blog worthy moments, I think it was a rousing success!

To start with, Popcorn and I had to run to Walmart to pick up a birthday present. She had two parties to go to, and we had to do an emergency gift change as we found out that one of the girls no longer plays Barbies, and Popcorn ALWAYS plays Barbies with her.... She was quite surprised to learn her friend had forsaken Barbies.

I must say I will be SO SAD when my kids no longer play toys...

Anyway, she was much speedier at picking out a new present than I had planned, so we had time to kill. We wandered all over Walmart...

When it was time to meet the mom who was taking them for a movie/mall party, I got out of the car to go greet them...Because I think it's polite, and I'm a chatter...Christie gestured to my torso...

Oh, wait! I must describe my uber cute outfit! I had paired a hand me up shirt from my niece Sarah with black & white stripes and a wide black belt with a big shiny patent "leather" buckle that was sitting high on my waste! Look at me and my fashionable self!!! I knew Christie was impressed, because I've always had excellent powers of deduction.

So...Christie gestures to my torso and being the super cool chick that I am, I began to saunter to her...Because I was Luh-OOkin' GOOOODD!!

Except Christie began to frantically shake her head no...And pointed more emphatically...and in all of my amazing reasoning skills, I deduced that something was perhaps amiss...

MY STUPID SHIRT WAS UNBUTTONED!!!

Good grief...

I laughed maniacally, buttoned up, and laughed some more...Because what else is there to do???

My only other thought was, "Please, God, I hope I didn't just walk all over Walmart with my shirt unbuttoned!"

So, I dropped off my beloved child and stopped to get gas...

And winds were at gale force, so even though I shook the handle before removing it from my tank, gas splattered all over me....

So. I went home, showered and changed.

After feeding my family a highly nutritious lunch of bean and cheese burritos, I headed to Norman to do a little Christmas shopping and meet Popcorn at the mall to take her to a second party that was a slumber party at the Embassy Suites in town...

My back had started spontaneously hurting while we were in Walmart earlier, but I tried to convince myself that a good dose of Aspercreme rubbed in, a hot shower and two Aleve were going to fix what ailed me...

And my back continued to hurt...

It hurt to push the cart through Target. Target is the store that I try to avoid as every time I go in, I spend a hundred bucks and wonder what happened...

I left with one measly purchase...

As I wandered in Target I realized that I had left the sleeping bag at home that Popcorn had told me at least TWELVE times to not forget!

Grrrr...

No problem. Academy was up the road. I ran in and found a sleeping bag for ten whole bucks...Which was probably cheaper than gas wasted to drive back home...I wandered all over Academy, trying to find gifts for a few people...And nothing appealed. All I could think of was that my back hurt to stand still...I had to keep moving or just sit down...

So. I left Academy and ran into a shoe store. Because OBVIOUSLY everyone is getting shoes from me this Christmas!

And I left without purchasing or even TRYING on a solitary pair of shoes. Because every pair of shoes I buy for someone else must first be tried on...

I knew it was a dire situation when not one pair of shoes was even worthy of trying on.

I spied a Dollar Tree...

Hooray! The store where EVERYTHING is a dollar or less! Surely I could find some great stocking stuffers in there! Problem solved! This day would not just be a day of agonizingly wandering through stores, staring at items, but not registering what I was seeing. There was much joy and singing in my heart...

Only I didn't find any stocking stuffers! However, as I was about to throw up my hands and leave in exasperation I found the most unthinkable thing of all!

I found food storage containers that WERE MADE IN AMERICA!

Shut! Up! Yes they were!!

So, after joyously handing the lovely lady my money, I turned to stroll out of Dollar Tree, American made product firmly in my grasp, silently celebrating over my find on Veterans' Day weekend, no less!

And I walked smack into the door.

You see, I anticipated an automatic door, and I was so lost in my daydreams of jubilation/don't move to quickly or you will surely collapse in pain from your back that I failed to notice the door wasn't opening...

I mean, seriously people...Surely a store where everything is less than a dollar rates an automatic door!

*Sigh*

And as I limped my poor pitiful self to my car, I realized another fact...Not only had I exposed myself in public, forgotten a sleeping bag, limped through a basically unsuccessful shopping trip, and ran into a door...

I HAD WENT OFF AND LEFT THE PRESENT FOR THE OTHER PARTY HANGING ON THE BACK OF A CHAIR IN THE DINING ROOM!!!!!!

I did what any sane woman would do...

I called Studmuffin and told him the entire pitiful tale...

He immediately volunteered to bring Bookworm and her friend (who was staying the day with her so she wouldn't be lonely without a sister to play with. I've learned that my kids get lonely quick without each other.) to town, meet me at the hotel to drop off the gift, then he would also generously treat me to dinner at the ever fabulous Chik fil A.

My hero!

Conversations

2011-11-13T16:29:00.002-06:00

Wednesday was a lovely fall day. The kids asked me to take them to the park. Now, I have to admit that when we go to our park, I tend to just turn them loose and sit on a sunny bench and read. However, it was too brisk to sit on a cold concrete bench, so I decided to join them on their adventure. You see, our park has a little forest. I was so pleasantly surprised at how lovely the little trail was! It is definitely a photo opportunity.

Anyway, Popcorn found one of those pods with large seeds in them that some trees have. I don't know what they're called. But, no, they're not locust trees. The pods were about an inch wide and the seeds were bigger than lima beans...Anyway, one of the seeds was sprouting.

"I'm going to go home and plant it! Then we will FINALLY have a climbing tree at our house!"

"Honey, it takes like ten years for a tree to get big enough to climb."

"Fine. Then I will wait until I'm 19 to plant it."

So that was odd reasoning...

"Why don't you just plant it now, and then when your kids are growing up they can climb it?"

"Ufff! Fine! Then I will have to be overprotective and go out and watch them...It will be so ANNOYING! Gosh!"

And I burst out laughing.

Her brain is weird.

Going Nowhere...

2011-11-12T12:24:00.020-06:00

My parents took my girls to the lake with them Friday night after my mom's appointment in Oklahoma City. My sister was there with her family. I'm not sure, but judging by this picture, I believe they had fun.

I think fishermen classify a catch like this one a successful day, even if it's all they catch.

Even if they nearly froze to death in the process of bringing home the bounty.

Brent got up early Saturday morning to retrieve the girls, and I went to an all day choir rehearsal...I don't think he really felt it was a sacrifice considering he's nuts for fishing.

Oh, were you wondering where they had such fantastic luck?

I'm not sure exactly how one gets there.

I do know it's not here.

I also know it's not there.

I guess the easiest way to tell you is this:

So the next time somebody tells you that you're on the road to nowhere, I suggest you say, "That's fine. I hear the fishing is excellent!"

Unless the tornado, floods, or earthquakes we had Friday and Monday night wiped out the whole place...

Then it may not be the ideal road to head down.

Just sayin'...

Oh, and on a completely unrelated note: What is the DEAL with these earthquakes! Friday night I thought we were having a tornado that was shaking the walls, then I very briefly thought the rapture was happening...then Brent said, "it's an earthquake" and I was even more freaked! Tornadoes give you warning, and if you live in Oklahoma, the warning system is outstanding...

But earthquakes? Nope. You're just sitting on the couch watching "Big Bang Theory" and suddenly you think there's a big roll of thunder, then you lose your equilibrium, then you realize it's not you, it's the earth!

Freaky...I'm tellin' ya.

But I'll get off that tangent now.

Who wants to go fishin'?

Jingle Bells!

2011-11-11T11:46:00.000-06:00

I hung some chimes from our back door. A few weeks ago I started taking Chesney's nose and hitting the bells every time I take her out...

She understands what they're for, but I must say I don't think she likes them. I think they are too jingly and perhaps hurt her ears...I suggested we buy a buzzer for her to press...Studmuffin scoffed at placing a doorbell inside the house for the dog. All I'm sayin' is that I need something that is easily heard, so that I'm not cleaning puppy messes up off the floor all the time.

A few nights ago she rang the bells. Brent took her out and she did her business.

He brought her back in, and a few minutes later she rang them again...

He let her out and she chased Freckles off of the back porch and up a tree...

And she came back to the door and scratched...

So he let her back in...

She trotted into the kitchen, found nothing of interest and came back to plop down in the living room next to Brent...After a few minutes she got BACK up, went back to the kitchen, sniffed around and then came right back to lay beside Brent...She did this a few more times...

Then one time after leaving the kitchen, she went over to the door and rang the chimes...

Brent sighed and got up to put her back out... And she immediately ran over to the outdoor water bowl and took a big long drink!

You see, every night an hour or so before bedtime, Brent takes her water away, so he won't have to get up with her during the night...

But apparently chasing kittens is thirsty work, and if she couldn't have a drink from the kitchen, she'd just get it from her bowl outside...

I am afraid this dog is too smart for us...

Last Sunday Popcorn let the dogs in while we were still in bed (after we had turned them both out for their 5am ablutions which really means we kick them out and go back to bed) She was watching TV...

We heard the chimes faintly ring...

We didn't hear the door open...

Brent got up to check on what was up, and sure enough! Chesney had peed on the dining room floor!

Oh joy.

It seems that she rang the bell so softly, and since she had just came from outside Popcorn could not be bothered to climb out from under her fleece blanket to turn her back out...She didn't think she "really needed to go."

I tried not to scream...And sort of succeeded...

"Well next time, even if you don't think she SHOULD need to go, could you just put her out anyway, PLEASE?"

"Sure thing, Mom!" And she happily resumed watching the Munsters on Netflix.

My Protector

2011-11-10T11:10:00.002-06:00

Wednesday morning I kept hearing a loud banging sound...I had been hitting snooze on my alarm clock, as I have a harder time dragging my carcass out of bed when it's cooler out...

I finally realized it was a whopping 5:30 am and Brent had left the dogs outside who apparently thought they were on the verge of freezing to death since it was only 36 degrees out...

The big babies.

I let them in and collapsed my bleary self on the floor with a dog on each side and scratched their ears and pondered how thankful I was that I didn't have to work since I had worked a thirteen hour day on Tuesday...

Kelsey suddenly let out a little huff of "woof" and looked at the door. Kelsey learned from early on that she was not permitted to bark in the house. I wish she would instill this value in Chesney, but Chesney feels the need to bark any time she's not getting her way...

Anyway, I was shocked to hear this hushed "woof." She let out a few more huffy "woofs," looked at the back door then raised all of her hackles and let out a low growl...

I no longer felt bleary eyed...

I was suddenly feeling quite alert.

And more than a tiny bit freaked out...

I strained to see what had her so worked up, but when she saw me looking at the door, she prowled over and proceeded to let out several low huffing "woofs" with a growl in between, complete with hackles raised...

I considered the vast array of weapons and artillery in our house. I wondered if I was clear on how to load them after years of not doing so...I wondered whether to call my husband and demand he drive home to see what was in our back yard, obviously on the verge of committing mayhem...Perhaps I should call the cops, but the last time my husband had to do that, the officer took an hour to arrive and admitted he had been eating breakfast at McDonalds.

I finally decided to unleash the beast...

That's Kelsey in case you're wondering.

Kelsey dashed into the back yard and immediately began her "I'm a big dog and nobody better mess with me" bark. It is quite a bark to behold, let me tell you.

She ran to the east side of our yard, where I could hear our neighbors German Sheppard barking also. She stood there a minute, barked some more...

Then turned and ran back to me...

Hackles still raised...

She scratched at the door...

I let her in with hackles still raised...

She looked one last time over her shoulder...

And she walked over to her bed and laid down.

Disaster averted.

It made me think of another time that she scared the dickens out of me. We were still living in south Texas, except Brent had already moved to Oklahoma. I was letting the girls finish out their school year. I had awesome neighbors. Nearly every one of them approached me about calling them if I ever needed anything, and each of them also assured me they had a gun if needed. I laughed and said we would be fine, but thanks for the offer...

You see within the immediate vicinity of my house was a San Antonio police detective next door,a retired detective and current mayor of my town across the street, a couple who raised police dogs and were both retired military North of the mayor, and on the other side of the mayor my good friend Eloi, who was also retired military as well as retired stay at home husband while wife still works....

One night I was in the kitchen (making cookies or baking bread or some other equally domestic thing) and Kelsey went over to our front door and started sniffing all along the base. Deep sniffs as if she was trying to draw all of the outside air into her lungs. She froze. She started a low ominous growl in her throat. She raised he hackles and began to pace back and forth across the door way.

She let out a few more huffs of "woof" and growled some more...I had NEVER seen her do such a thing.

I nearly had a heart attack. So, I did what any self respecting mother would do...I called one of my many gun toting neighbors (we were in Texas remember) and asked them to come see what was up. Eloi willingly came over and cased the area. He couldn't find anything, and said it was probably a possum or some other critter on the front porch. I sheepishly thanked him, gave him a fictitious plate of cookies and sent him back home to his wife Doris...

So thus far Kelsey has fearlessly protected me from...

Well, nothing as far as I can tell!

But I'm pretty sure her heart is in the right place!

An award

2011-11-09T09:41:00.000-06:00

I popped on over to Lost in the Prairies today, and was surprised to see myself listed as an award winner! I guess she was making sure that only those who really want the award will find they have it!!

Anyway, I like the award posts, as I always find out something new about the blogger...And that is what blogging is all about, right? Eavesdropping on the lives of people you may never meet otherwise?

But maybe that' just me...

So the award comes with rules. Of course. So I guess to accept this award, I must actually follow the rules. I hate rules, but am annoyed when people don't follow rules that I think are important, so there ya go.

However, before I follow the rules of listing seven things about myself, I must say that I realized why Michelle has posts titled "caffeinated randomness" after reading the seven things about her...

Do I even have seven things you don't already know about me? Since I tend to throw my thoughts up all over the internet and all over everyone that comes in contact with me, I'm not sure...

1. I actually posted a Dennis the Menace cartoon up on our fridge at work...I crossed out Margaret's name so it reads "Oh no. Here comes Andi and I bet she hasn't used all of her words for today." When I saw it in the paper on the break room table, I figured I better strike before somebody else did and I got my feelings hurt...Because I'm so sensitive and all...Of course one of our doctor's was upset for me. He thought someone was being unkind. So that was sweet.

2. I am an early Christmas shopper. As a matter of fact, I've already started shopping, and have a gift made for my family's homemade gift exchange...My goal is to have all of my shopping done by Thanksgiving. But that is mostly because after Thanksgiving I'm stressing over all of the homemade gifts I've assigned myself to make...

And I'm a noncrafter. So why I feel compelled to torture myself year after year is a mystery...

Except that I'm tight. So I guess it's no big mystery after all.

3. Apparently at times I'm slightly moody and irrational...At least that is the determination I made based on the reading of this post that I stumbled across while looking for the above picture I knew I'd posted once before. You can go read about it here and pity my husband...

4. I have actually had arguments with my dentist...Because going to the dentist is obviously controversial. He had the audacity about 6 months ago to point out that I clench my teeth, and that is the cause of my sensitivity...I told him I do NOT grit my teeth...And cursed him the next day when I caught myself clenching when I was stressed...Am I the only one who has ever argued with a dentist?

5. I've come a long way with my fear of spiders...So far that this beauty is living in my house. I don't know why she's living. My husband caught her in a jar last Wednesday, so we could see if her abdomen had an hourglass... She is still alive despite being trapped in a jar for several days. Apparently spiders don't use up much oxygen...My husband has become fascinated by her. I'm just horrified that she's in my house.

6. I am perhaps not the best of mothers...My oldest has been having problems with a boy at school. I officially declared him a "jerk" and not worthy of the distress he causes her...I'm not really sure telling your child that a kid's a "jerk" and "he's picking on you because he's playing the flute, and 6th grade boys don't play the flute, so he's getting picked on and your an easy target to vent his frustrations on," is the proper mother thing to do. She is completely oblivious if this (teasing) is going on. She claims nobody but the woodwinds know he plays flute because his sister takes it to school for him...I told her "Trust me. People know...And it's happening." Which is perhaps not one of my finest parenting moments.

But let's be real. We all KNOW that it's the way life is.

7. There is a mysterious dead animal odor in my garage. I can't find the source. I've taken to parking outside in the ELEMENTS to avoid having a stinky car...And to avoid entering the garage. One of our kittens went missing two weeks ago, and I have looked all over for the source of smell. Surely I'd be able to find a CAT in the garage if it was decomposing. I think it's just a rat or mouse that one of the cats killed, then failed to eat...However since I can't find the decomposing carcass, I really have no idea. Could we all just please pray that it's not a cat? I really don't think my delicate constitution can handle that...

Now, apparently I'm to pass this award on to fifteen other bloggers...Fifteen is clearly a ridiculously large number...However I do know some brilliant bloggers who are struggling for blog material lately...Or they have lives outside of their blog which PERHAPS makes finding time to post all of their fascinating thoughts difficult...So, in typical "I think rules are stupid" fashion, I will award a whopping four bloggers. Three happen to be related to me, and the fourth actually seems to live a life destined to be blog worthy, so I shall link up with her in an effort to show the world how hilarious she truly is. So, without further rambling, I nominate:

1. Dawn at It Just Dawned on Me
2. Paula at La La Land
3. Marilyn (that's my mom!) over at the Sand Creek Ranch
4. Megan at Best of Fates

Oh Wait! I just thought of two more! Go meet these two sisters from Australia! They are worth the trip!

5. Crazy Sister
6. Givinya de Elba

Happy reading!

Negligence: A Practical Gardening Lesson

2011-11-06T14:05:00.000-06:00

I'm really glad I took some pictures of my zinnias last week before we had a frost...

I looked around my yard, and thought, "my flowers are doing amazingly well."

Especially considering we are in a drought and I haven't watered since August...

I don't even know where these Vincas came from. In midsummer of last year, they suddenly began to grow in the rocks by my house. I had just a few last year, but as you can see, they are quite plentiful this year!

Obviously flowers planted at the base of trees don't fare so well when one does not water them. Apparently the tree saps all of their water away. Of course, the statement "planted" is misleading. When we moved in there were zinnias and marigolds in the back yard. I left them be, and when they had a dried bloom, I scattered the seeds at the base of various trees.

This is a great, inexpensive way to have lovely annuals become perennials. It does require some patience, as you don't have beautiful blooms in May when all of the stores have flowers for sale.

They seem to do best in beds near the house or shop. Please forgive the unsightly trash can. I really haven't quite mastered how to make a trash can aesthetically pleasing.

These poor mums have had a hard life. They were eaten completely to the ground by Holly (the puppy we never speak of...) They came back up this summer, and I moved them to another flower bed. They were quite lovely until Chesney decided they made a great bed...

My jalapeno's decided to have fruit on them for the first time all summer...

And it's actually fall.

Sadly, my tomatoes are just sad and dried up...

Please disregard the child on top of the table. She was up their whacking the sun shade fabric trying to convince Oliver to climb down so she could pet him.

For some reason this action failed to derive a loving snuggle from him...

Oh, and disregard the piles of dirt on my deck. Chesney dumped over a flower pot and scattered the soil all over.

So in closing: The expert gardening tip I have for you is this: Let your zinnias and marigolds dry up. Scatter the seeds in every available pot and flower bed you have... By mid summer you will have gorgeous flowers all over, until the first frost!

Taking Thoroughness One Step Beyond..

2011-11-01T20:29:00.000-05:00

Attention: I actually wrote this post last week, but never posted it. I just felt I should confess that this story is late...

I feel better now.

I'm learning to not worry if I'm going to be "short hours" at work because I took a few days off for Fall Break...

God provides plenty of make up hours for me...

In the form of a ten hour, no lunch shift on Monday followed by an eleven hour shift on Tuesday. On Tuesday I did get lunch, but I took it around eleven or eleven thirty, and believe me that by the time I was clocking out at 7:30, I felt as if I had not received lunch at all...

So, following my whining about hours, I have a nursing story for you...

And it's not a fun story. I can't even begin to describe the stress and fear and overall sense of sadness I had with the case that is still fresh in my mind...

So instead of sharing a scary, "why am I a nurse" story, I will instead tell you of a conversation that was overheard on Tuesday.

I work with a nurse who could be described as OCD. And that would not be an overstatement. We had a long line of patients backed up due to some urgent add on cases, and a delay with an anesthesiologist for a case my doctor was doing in surgery, followed by difficulty with the case causing it to run over. Consequently we had more than adequate time to prep our patients for their procedures...

Well, OCD nurse can make a fifteen minute duty last two hours if given the chance. He has this tendency to create work when there's none to be done when he has too much time on his hands. Strangely, he seems to stress himself out when he has too much time also. He spent two solid hours getting his patient ready. He even went over discharge instructions before the procedure began, which is actually pretty normal, but it's usually a brief description of what to expect after the procedure and a list of a few restrictions along with a handout. He was telling his patient not to drive as she was going to receive sedation. This woman was over 80 years old and no longer drove...And she told OCD nurse so..."Well, I'm just saying you need to be careful about operating any equipment or electronics today. For example if you have an electric can opener at home, you might want to avoid using it today."

????

Needless to say, we haven't let him live that statement down, and I don't think we will any time soon.

BEWARE THE ELECTRIC CAN OPENER!!!

We Interupt This Productivity for an Oliver Moment...

2011-10-28T13:23:00.000-05:00

I am SUPPOSED to be cleaning my house and baking granola bars and folding laundry...

I DID sleep until nearly eight o'clock, which is three hours after my normal rising hour...

I DID get my hair colored. My hair has gotten so long that this ordeal has turned into such that I can not plan to accomplish anything else for a good hour and a half while I'm diligently coloring my grays...

Instead I must sit in my Grandmama Dolly chair and read a book...

I'm pretty sure God wanted me to have dark auburn hair instead of dark brown with silver highlights...

After washing that gray right out of my hair I decided I'd better tackle the mountain of laundry that has overtaken my living room...

I was in Popcorn's room putting new sheets on her bed, complete with an electric blanket. That girl is seriously attached to climbing into a toasty warm bed when the first sign of chilly weather is here...

That girl is also wearing shorts and a tank top and it's a whopping 60 degrees outside...She's "not cold," but I guarantee you she will be nagging me to crank up the thermostat when it's time to climb in bed...

Anyhoo, Popcorn let Oliver in the house as I was making up her bed. He sauntered down the hall, fluffy black tail swishing back and forth. He sat on his haunches and gave me a good long glare. I continued to work...

This disgusted him, so he let out a long, plaintive "mrrrroooow..."

I looked at him and said, "Give me a minute here Flufferpants. I'm putting fresh sheets on the bed for you and your servant Popcorn."

He laid down and continued to watch me with narrowed eyes and tail swishing lazily from side to side. Of course he made sure to thump his tail each time it hit the ground so I would understand the level of royal offense he was feeling...

I neatly tucked the blankets in, complete with hospital corners, fluffed the pillows and gingerly picked His Royal Fluffyness up to put him on the freshly made bed...

"I know it's a lot to ask, but could you please refrain from grooming yourself right now? This bed is nice and fresh, and I'd appreciate if I could go one day without spying giant tufts of fur all over it."

He sniffed and swished and sniffed and swished...

He eventually hopped gingerly down on the floor NEXT to the bed and dismissed me...

At least I'm taking it as a dismissal. It could be disgust that I'm not doing something about the mounds of clutter in this bedroom...

Either way, I'm staying out of his way for the near future...

Oh, and I've decided that every single post must have excessive dot dot dots, just so my Gentle Readers may understand that I have not completed one single thought, but my brain is racing ahead of me anyway...

And now I'm off to run around like a mad woman straightening the house lest my husband show up and think I'm not deserving of the title "Trophy Wife."

Puppy Antics...

2011-10-27T14:00:00.001-05:00

It's raining today.

And it's my day off.

And there are no fantabulous deals at Homeland.

So I'm sitting on the couch sipping hot cocoa laced coffee and not feeling guilty for doing nothing...

Well, I'm feeling guilty about my thighs, but that's irrelevant.

The obvious answer to that dilemma is homemade banana and pumpkin bread...

I decided to delay that spurt of productivity by sharing some puppy antics with you...

Aawww!! Look at that picture of innocence!

Too bad it was directly following a wild chase through the house by Popcorn who was endeavoring to save a baby bib I had stored in a cabinet under our bar that was made specifically for her by one of the leader of my MOPS group...The strings were dangling out after I had dug through the cabinet looking for my fall napkins...

The chase lead to this:

So, after much crashing and banging and excessive yelling by everyone present she decided she should lay docilely on the floor to prove her overall cuteness.

Oh, and what about this sweet little snapshot I took last night? Well, Brent had decided it was bedtime. Chesney refused to lay down next to him on her pillow case and sack out with him on the floor. (This is their normal 8pm routine, followed by me waking Brent around 9:30 and telling him to put his puppy to bed and come to bed with me.)

Well, as I said she did not feel like going to bed at 8pm last night. Instead she was rolling around on the floor, getting into everything she shouldn't get into, and generally getting on his nerves as he wanted to go to sleep while watching the timeless Halloween classic "Lost Boys" on Netflix...

He scooped her up and shoved her in her crate. And she proceeded to yelp and whine and whimper. She did not WANT to be in her crate when the living room lights were still on and the family was still awake...

So she endeavored to keep the girls awake, and was quite successful! They yelled "SERIOUSLY!!?? She is keeping us awake!" So, I broke the rules and let her out of her crate where she walked directly to Kelsey's bed and promptly squeezed between her and the desk and went to sleep.

I think Brent was slightly annoyed by her choice of sleeping partner...

Since it is raining, and I'm off work. The dogs are in the house with me. Chesney is getting a tad rambunctious. I am trying to teach her that playing rough is not allowed in the house...Kelsey is not doing an adequate job of discipline, which is clearly her job...

I mean part of the family's argument when begging me to get a new puppy was that we needed a puppy while Kelsey was still young enough to "train" her...So far Kelsey is gleefully joining in games of tug of war with stuffed animals (dog toys, thankfully) and wrestling matches directly at my feet...

I lost my patience with their antics this morning and yelled in my best "I've had it" mommy voice...

"That is ENOUGH!! Kelsey!! GO TO BED! Chesney! Go AWAY!!!"

They slunk out of the kitchen and plopped down on the carpet, gazing woefully at me like this:

But it did not make me feel guilty. Not one little bit. Instead it inspired me to stop any pretense of productivity and write a blog!

And Chesney has decided that all is forgiven and she is running maniacally around the sofa I'm sitting on, weaving under the table the lap top is sitting on, behind the sofa, then behind the recliner, and between the end table and wall where she knocked the lamp off just two days ago.

Lord help me, what was I thinking when I decided to surprise Brent with a puppy???

Oh, but on a brighter note: I hung some chimes from the door and have been using her nose to ring them each time I take her out...She has rang them THREE times this morning and went outside to potty! I'm finally getting trained...

Perhaps We've ALL Been Mislead

2011-10-26T22:06:00.000-05:00

Things are...

Perhaps...

NOT always as they appear...

For example, a picture of a vicious dog attack could in fact simply be...

A picture of my dog playing with Brent's puppy...This would in fact be the same dog that patiently allows aforementioned puppy to hang from the skin folds of her neck while she is attempting to walk away...

And can we not all agree that there must be some level of humiliation even in the dog world involved with skin folds on the neck?

*Shudder*

Another misleading picture could be this:

Well, perhaps it's not misleading precisely... Perhaps instead it is a simple statement that was quite true in 1968...

You see, in my eagerness to go camping with the fam, I decided to go two days ahead of my husband... I arrived a little after noon on Thursday, and my brother agreed to help me set up my camper and my nephew offered to help, but he mostly ended up watching in that special way that 16 year old boys can "help" while not really knowing what to do...Of course he willingly fetched lots of items for us!

As we were attempting to slide out the last bed, it was giving me some difficulty, and I couldn't get the final brace for the canvas to come into position. I called Brent to ask if perhaps I was opening it out of order...You see, 1968 pop up tent campers must be erected in a very precise order...

As I was on the phone I was attempting to raise the brace and

BANG!!!

The darn rivet broke...

And David vanished in to thin air....

No not really. He looked through his tools for the random bolt to repair the rivet (you can see the bent hinge and newly replaced bolt attaching it to the sliding part thingy that brings the bed out...

Of course he DIDN'T have a bolt so I had to make my dad go with me into town to buy a bolt to temporarily replace the rivet...

And then I realized Brent forgot to throw the jack in to brace the tongue on. Of course I improvised with the spare tire and a log that previous campers had left behind...Which did not prove as stable as a jack designed to hold it in place...

Oh! And did I forget to mention that the ground jacks that hold up one half of the camper tend to slip now???

That was exciting when the girls were fast asleep and I was trying to quietly slip into bed...

They did not wake up, but I was immediately afraid the whole thing was going to capsize...

This post has many dot dot dots, no?

Well, on that note, I'm done for now.

Oh, except you simply must go over and read Dawn's post on what you must do while on fall break...

And then you must mentally realize that when she says you look for pearls in clam shells you must picture this child:

And she is pulverizing clams with a stick and finally throwing them on the concrete to bust them open in an effort to discover pearls...

I am glad the SPCA was nowhere around when this was going on...

And I'm glad my mom had a hair dryer in her camper as the very FIRST thing she did was fill her rain boots completely full of mud in her quest for clams...We had to hose them out, and strangely rubber boots with a fabric liner take FOREVER to dry...

FOREVER!

Of course she filled them with mud AFTER she got her only other pair of shoes completely caked in mud.

I'm sure you're all quite shocked any child of mine would be up to such shenanigans...

I'm quite sure she gets it from her father.

I'm glad you agree.

Vicious Dog Attacks, UFO Sightings, and Mr. T

2011-10-23T20:01:00.000-05:00

We had an adventurous camping weekend.

Studmuffin had to stay and work on Thursday and Friday, so I decided to bravely go forth with our 1968 Apache Eagle pop up tent camper and join my family for Fall Break... And it broke... We won't go into the details today...But it's safe to say that little girls never stop needing their daddies to come rescue them!

I have so much to tell you, but I'm tired, and I have tons of laundry to do, and I discovered my washer is leaking, and my hair is smelly, and did I mention I'm tired...

However, here's a quick sneak peak:

We had vicious dog fights.

We had UFO sightings.

And we had a close encounter with Mr. T...

But I'll let Dawn tell you all about that!

He's Still Workin' On Me!

2011-10-19T20:32:00.002-05:00

Remember this children's song?

It took Him just a week to make the moon and stars,
the sun and the moon and Jupiter and Mars.
La la la I don't remember all the words!
But He's still workin' on me.

You don't remember it? Strange. Especially considering how thoroughly I just described it to you!

Well, it took Bookworm just a few days to make her solar system. Her daddy used all of the self restraint he possessed and lent minimal assistance. I assure you this was a very big challenge considering this is the same man who once declared: We will NOT have a red back splash. It is too much work to paint the red evenly!

And then I promised to paint the bead board.

And so he agreed...I painted maybe two square feet of primer on the bead board, and he looked at me and said: Give me the brush. You are not doing it evenly.

It was primer for the love of Pete! I didn't realize it NEEDED to be even!

So, he let her do all but a small bit of the work...

And this is the result!

Oh wait! That's not the result! Dag nab it! My secret it is out. But, hey do you see the lovely little fall display I have buried next to Popcorn's jacket their on the right? Chesney actually leaves that thing alone. Now that the scarecrow is gone, that is. She is quite determined to eat every scare crow she encounters.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who has a mysterious explosion of shoes, socks, jackets, lunch bags and back packs every single day.

Please?

Tell me I'm not alone.

Mind you, this is not the solar system either. This is just an example of puppy paraphernalia strewn threw the living room while the culprits lay in blissful slumber. I am just wondering when I lost complete control of my house. Do you realize that when my kids were babies my house was spotless? It was! Truly! I was a cleaning and cooking machine! Every single day I mopped and ran the vacuum. I washed dried and folded laundry promptly. I cooked dinner nearly every single night..in fact it was usually completely prepared except for the actual cooking by 3:30 while the girls napped... and I vowed to never let my kids sully their palates with carbonated beverages, high fructose corn syrup or french fries...

I have failed in nearly all of those endeavors in the past eight years. Of course I snapped out of the post partum depression about eight years ago... My housework has slowly slipped down hill ever since.

Who knew post partum had an up side?

Why lookie there! I finally got around to showing a picture of the solar system! And nary a mess is in sight!

Who says my house is a complete and utter disaster?

Three words: Location, angle, and sweep (as in your arm across the counter to pile all clutter against your lovely red backsplash.)

Here's another view. If you click on the photo and enlarge it, you will see that there are two more planets than there used to be in my day. Yep, that little tiny dwarf planet on the far right is Eris. And the little brown dwarf planet in the asteroid belt is Ceres...And not only does Saturn have rings, but so do Jupiter, Neptune and Uranus...Uranus and Neptune's rings are made out of thin sheets of plastic she cut to fit then wrapped around the planets. She is clever, no?

And here's the clever girl herself posing for "just one picture" before heading off to school. Good thing this turned out as she was quite adamant about the one picture only.

She gets that from her dad's side of the family, I'm sure.

This picture is purely gratuitous. I wonder what on earth Chesney is dreaming of?

That is Just so Granola

2011-10-18T20:15:00.003-05:00

I remember when I was in a clinical rotation at a Columbia Hospital in Arlington. I don't remember the entire gist of the conversation, but I do remember one of the nurses looked at me and said with a look of utter disdain "Your school is just so granola."

I was young and idealistic and had no idea what she was talking about...

As I got out of the ivory tower of nursing school and in to the real world, I realized what she meant. However, I also remember how jaded and bitter every single nurse that I encountered at that hospital was. Seriously, they all hated their jobs. How sad. That is the only hospital where I had nurses tell me, "Change your major while you still can."

I think perhaps if they had a puppy napping on their kitchen floor while they provided nourishing food for their family, their cranky factor may have decreased...

If you know anything about me, this post began as expected...Completely unrelated to the point of the post...Just random thoughts that were circling my brain as I was involved in the endeavor this post truly relates to:

GRANOLA!!

Color me excited!

I have a friend at work who occasionally brings oatmeal bars to work. His mother makes them, and they make him think of the Oatmeal to Go bars by Quaker. I love those bars. I do not love the price involved with them, since they never last more than a day.

I asked him for the recipe, and he brought it to me. I joyfully tackled it last week. I have tweaked the recipe to suit our family's tastes, but the bare bones of the original are still there.

The beauty of this recipe is that it assembles in mere minutes, requires only two bowls and a spatula to assemble, and it is good for you!

So, without further ado, here it is!

Molasses Oatmeal Bars

In a large bowl combine:

2 c old fashioned oats
3/4 c flour
3/4 tsp soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ginger
1/4 c brown sugar
1/2 c chopped pecans
1/4 c sunflower seeds
1/3 c toasted wheat germ
1/2 c golden raisins

In a small bowl combine:
1/2 c vegetable oil
1/2 c honey
3 Tbsp molasses (spray your spoon with vegetable spray to make it slide off easily)
1 large egg

Add the molasses/honey mixture to your oat mixture. Simply stir this with your favorite red spatula. I promise, red spatulas work best! I am so convinced of this fact that I own three red spatulas and one lime green...The lime green, while it is visibly appealing, just does not seem to do the job properly. Therefore all reliable research indicates that red spatulas work best!

Use the back of your red spatula to spread and press firmly the granola mix into a greased 9x13 pan. Will you hold it against me if I tell you that I used my 9x11 pan because I still had a few bars left in my 9x13 from a previous batch? I just couldn't be bothered to take out the last three bars and then wash and dry the pan...

Place in preheated 350 degree oven and bake 18-22 minutes. Remove when edges are starting to brown. Let cool on wire rack about 90 minutes before cutting...

Enjoy!

Oh! Are you wondering what that little peek of blue orb is on the right side? Well, that just happens to be Popcorn's solar system model. That will be a post for another day. I tried to take a clever photo of the granola bars with her solar system in the background...

However in that same background you could see my three bags of recyclables lying on the dining room floor so I would not neglect to drop them off in the morning...And you could see the piles of crafty stuff on my dining room table...Not to mention the piles of junk I "need to sort through" on our hutch.

That was just clearly too much clutter to include in one post...

I mean I'm all about being real, but even I have limits!

So, when I deem the background tidy enough to show you pictures of the solar system I will post photos of her masterpiece...Granted the background will be tidy while everything outside of it may very well be chaos.

But I'm totally okay with that!

And Then I Saw These Shoes...

2011-10-16T19:44:00.000-05:00

We are going camping in the near future.

At a lake...

And every year when we go camping my youngest gets her shoes wet. I know!! It is shocking.

In the not so distant past she asked me for rain boots. "She doesn't need rain boots. It doesn't rain here," her dad stated quite sternly.

Have I ever mentioned that man is the rain on my parade?

Anyway, as I began making my list of camping necessities (last year we forgot our skillet. Try cooking eggs and bacon with no skillet, I challenge you. I ended up having to bum my brother's electric skillet off of him...Which if you understood anything at all about my brother you would see the sheer irony in HIM having something that I needed to borrow.)

Did I just digress? Imagine that!

So, I was making a list. I made a note that perhaps I should buy socks as Bookworm only has about four pair that fit properly, and there is nothing worse than wet feet...

Which made me wish we had rain boots for the girls...

Which led me to nagging my husband to let me BUY rain boots for the girls...

Which led me to checking out Target.com for boots and Halloween gear...

Which led me to finding Bookworm's Wednesday Addams costume for twelve bucks, and Popcorn's Indian costume for $20...I only needed to spend $18 more to get free shipping...

Of course I decided to throw in two pairs of rain boots. However, as I went to check out, I realized the boots may not get here in time...

So, I removed the boots from my list and instead ordered Popcorn a super cute pair of winter boots that are only $8 more than I was going to have to pay in shipping if I did not buy them...

Of COURSE I bought them!

Sadly, I sitll did not have rain boots....

I loaded Popcorn in the car and drug her to Goodwill...Where she was horrified at the used shoe smell and racks of clothes organized by color...

Sadly, Goodwill did not have my Morticia costume, or even a black witch dress I could improvise with, and they did not have one single pair of rain boots...

We headed to Target...Except before going into Target I decided to run in to TJ Maxx and see what they had to offer...

No, they did not have rain boots for children. But they did have a cute sweater dress for Bookworm and a lovely sweater for Popcorn and an adorable black pea coat with hot pink lining for Popcorn! As she pointed out her current coat is from first grade. Now that she's in fourth grade, she apparently thinks she needs one that actually reaches past her forearms. She is just so needy.

We meandered over to the fitting rooms to try on a variety of shirts for Popcorn, and Popcorn was even trying Bookworm's dress to see how it might fit on her sister...

As you can see, our guess was pretty good! I think I may have to forbid her wearing it due to she looks entirely too grown up in it! Of course, if I do perchance crumble and let her wear it, she will be wearing leggings and knee boots. Which will probably only add to the grown up look, but at least she won't look like she's wearing a mini dress with those long skinny legs! Can't have my daughter trampin' around at eleven years old, now can we?

We decided on the clothes and as we left my eye caught sight of these:

They were only $49!!! These Dansko's sell for like $150! Granted, I'd been saving for a pair of Barefoot Merrel's, but I simply had to buy these!

And so I did.

Oh, and for anyone who may not realize: These are for work. Considering I'm weary of wearing the required navy blue scrubs every. single. day. I'm quite excited to have something with definite personality to wear!

After splurging on unplanned purchases we dashed on in to Target where I bought the two pairs of rain boots the girls had picked out online...

By the way, did I mention that I was doing all of this on a tight schedule?

Did you know that people tend to spend more and impulse buy more when they are on a tight schedule?

And to think that before I left the house today I was stoked that I was actually going to have cash left in the clothing envelope this month!

Oh, and here's an image of Barefoot Merrells. Yes, they are purely frivolous. Which is why I've been yearning but not buying them for nearly a year now. They look and feel exactly like my high school track shoes...Which is perhaps why I want them, but I'm not really sure I have any glamor associated with track...Click here to read about my illustrious history as a track star. But, even if you can't be bothered to read about my humiliations, here's a picture of the shoes I'm unsuccessfully saving for!

You Can Stop Worrying About Oliver

2011-10-14T22:04:00.000-05:00

Why look at that pretty little thing! Isn't it cute how her the way her hair grows on her snout makes it look like it's wet?

We had friends over for dinner last Saturday night.

After the OU game of course because we do not have a large TV, and I do not watch sports. I take naps or chat during sports. The talking has lead to the loss of two friends...At least I assume it was the talking during sports events as these two friends invited me to a girls night during an OU game, but were annoyed when I talked in the car while the game was on.

Seriously.

They have not asked me to a single event since...

Moving on.

So, we had friends over AFTER the game. We celebrated a victory with Mexican pile on. (There's never a bad time for Mexican.) And then we celebrated an even more with a rousing game or 5 of Sequence. (Our lives are on the cutting edge of excitement, I'm tellin' ya!)

We had to play five games as the winner had to be best of five....

The ladies won. Of course...

It was pouring rain on Saturday night. /this meant that four fifths of our menagerie was in the house...

Kittens in the doll strollers.

Kelsey in her bed.

And Chesney all over the place.

My friend said, "I never see Oliver." I told her not to worry because although it had been pouring rain a good portion of the day, I had seen him a few minutes before their arrival strolling down the street. Dry as a bone. "Oliver goes where Oliver wants to go."

Kelsey is forever going to be raising young.

Wednesday I had the day off. After taking the girls to school, I came home to do some much needed housework...And instead wasted two hours trying to figure out how to hook my DVD recorder to record off of our TV. We ditched Dish, and are officially on antenna TV. While this is no skin off of my back, it is a problem for Survivor. Sure I can watch it the next day on my computer, but that screen is even smaller than our TV!

Anyway, I finally realized that our DVD recorder is so old, it simply can't recognize the channels, and I would need to get a converter box for it to be able to record digital TV.

Dang the government and their insistence on wasting tax dollars by requiring all TV be digital.

But the point of this post is not my lack of ability to record Survivor since that heathen network moved Survivor to WEDNESDAY after ten years of being on THURSDAY and I am in choir on Wednesday...

The point is that I realized on Saturday that people the world over are obviously chewing their fingers to the bone worrying about Oliver and his well being.

"What does he think of Chesney?"

"How has he handled the kittens?"

"Did his hair grow back to it's former glory after you brutally shaved him for the summer?"

Oliver decided to come in the house on Wednesday. He came in right before Chesney came in.

Chesney gamboled over to him with greetings of cheer and puppy licks. He smacked her firmly in the face about four times. She let out a giant yelp and ran away...

And he laid down on the tile and took a nap.

And there he remained until I woke him with my workout. He got up, glared at me, and sauntered over to Kelsey's bed where he laid down. And took another nap...

Well, after my defeat at the hands of a DVD recorder, I was so emotionally and mentally exhausted, I decided I needed a nap myself! I forced myself to put away the five loads of laundry I had folded on the couch, turned the Netflix on to Wallace and Grommett, and laid down for a nap of my own. (After all, I needed a place to lie down for my nap!)

I woke up to find Oliver napping in the love seat catty corner to me. (Catty corner. Heheh. I crack me up.)

I finally kicked him out when I went to pick the girls up for school, over 6 hours since he had first strolled through the garage door.

So, clearly April and the rest of his fans the world over can rest easy. You need not worry about the safety and well being of Mr. Flufferpants. He seems to be holding his own.

And Then It Happened.

2011-10-11T18:21:00.000-05:00

I just read a post over at Best of Fates. I recently discovered her. Can I say she's hilarious?

Anyway, Megan posted pictures of her jumping on a big platform thingy...

And she was mocking herself about falling down. Isn't it always the MOST fun to laugh at people who are laughing at themselves?

Anyway, all I could think of was "Wow. I really need to pee. If I was jumping up and down right now, I'd totally pee my pants."

And then I remembered that today at work I was giving a puny cough on my way to the break room...One of my coworkers joked about it. I said, "Well, I've needed to go pee for like two hours and finally have time, so I don't dare cough too hard."

And then I remembered that this affliction is all my sister's fault. Many many moons ago before the time of my child bearing, Dawn said, "Stop it! You're making me laugh so hard, I'm going to wet my pants!" And I laughed because I had heard that saying but never really understood that it was a real thing. Nor did I understand that my sister could suffer from such a horrific malady.

And then she said, "Just wait until you have kids. I am so going to laugh at you."

And then she did.

Getting Voluntold

2011-10-09T20:19:00.003-05:00

Let's begin with a definition, shall we?

Voluntold: v Being volunteered for something by a spouse or significant other that you were totally unaware of.

Example: My wife voluntold me that I was going to coach our sons soccer team.

On Friday I was sitting in our break room hating myself and enjoying a cinnamon roll. Hating myself for the wasted empty calories, but relishing the rich ooey gooey goodness with a stout cup of black of coffee.

Our doctor came into the break room with a soda in his hand and a to go box from the doctor's dining hall. "I am going to have to leave. My wife just called and I need to go home and get her then bring her back to the ER."

"Oh no! Is she okay?"

"She's fine, but she called me crying because her back hurts so bad. She never cries. She's been complaining a back pain for a few days, but now it's unbearable. I walked to work today, so I have to go home then drive her here."

I immediately said, "Do you want a ride home?"

"Would you do that? It's only about five blocks. Is your car near by?"

My coworker Jared said, "It's just in the south garage." We all park within a small range of each other, and there is a bridge that leads from the garage to an entrance one floor below our department.

"I would really appreciate that," and Dr. G continued to look directly at me. Probably because I was the one who offered to give him a ride...

I promptly turned to Jared who was standing just behind me and gave him a look...

Jared only betrayed his start by a small blink. He immediately said, "I think I have my keys on me, but let me grab my wallet."

When Jared returned to work later that afternoon I said, "Sorry I just voluntold you to take Dr. G to get his wife. But I figured guys should drive guys..."

He laughed and said, "No problem. I caught on pretty quick when you turned and gave me the look. I'm not always so quick. Then when I dropped Dr. G off in front of his apartment he said, 'You are waiting and will drive us right back?' Suuuure!"

Poor Jared. He was voluntold to chauffeur the doctor to his house by me, then voluntold by the doctor to act as ambulance service for the doctor's wife!

By the way: Last I heard she was okay. Probably kidney stones. Ouch.

Good Morning Sunshine

2011-10-08T18:11:00.002-05:00

Chesney has added an entire new level of busy to my morning.

Of course I've decided to compensate for this new level of busyness by hitting snooze on my alarm three times every morning...

Because I'm all that's wise and prepared.

Wouldn't you just love a recap of my Friday morning?

Well, I won't go into extended detail, (at least I'll try to not go into extended detail but that is very hard for me.)

But point one is this: When Chesney scratches at a door, even if it's the cabinet door in the kitchen it may perhaps mean that she needs to go potty. The whimper should have perhaps been my second clue to this situation.

Also, although I may consider myself all that is wise and timely, and even if I have allotted ten extra minutes in my morning to do a quick review of spelling and science with Popcorn for her exams, if I dash outside to check the dog bowl for water, I must also check the ground.

Because it is apparently inevitable that I will step in fresh puppy poo and track it all the way from the back door to the kitchen.

Blast!

So much for ten extra minutes in my morning!

Memories Light the Corner of My Mind

2011-10-07T17:23:00.000-05:00

My youngest daughter is funny. She is funny in a purposeful way, but also funny in a totally unintended way too. I was reminded of this little tale by my supervisor the other day...

When Popcorn was in Kindergarten, we were in the process of moving back to Oklahoma. Brent had already came to this state in March, and we had decided that I would stay in South Texas, letting our kids complete the school year, as he was going to be living in a travel trailer, and we didn't know exactly where we were going to live. We didn't want to put them in one school for the final two months of school, then change to a different school the final year. This was hard and we ended up pulling the kids out of school at the end of the year and home schooling them...Of course, we made that decision when Oklahoma had only two weeks of school left, and Texas still had nearly a month, so I use the term loosely...Read here "no curriculum but we read books and colored every day and did math papers. Oh, and we went to the zoo at least three times a week because we were living in a travel trailer, and I wasn't working, so the zoo was free since we had a pass and I would pack a lunch." Did you ever think you'd hear the words "PLEASE don't make us go to the zoo again, Mommy." I heard it over and over. But I was going insane in that trailer, and there is only so much time you can spend on the campground swing set and playing ping pong with a 6 & 7 year old before you lose your mind...

However, this story actually takes place BEFORE we had moved here.

Back stories with a person this verbose are unavoidable.

It was Mother's Day. My beautiful children insisted they make me breakfast in bed. The made toast with peanut butter and honey, a bowl of cereal, and a pot of coffee. They used nearly the entire can of coffee for one pot. So it was good and strong!

As we prepared for church Popcorn informed me we were eating out for lunch. We were on a very tight budget as we were paying for Brent's trailer park rent plus our normal household expenses and I had stopped working so I could be the sole care giver for the kids. I evaded saying that I would probably just make us a quick lunch. Popcorn was having none of that! "No, Mommy. I'm taking YOU out!"

So after church we loaded into our van and she instructed me to head to Dairy Queen. There we ordered our regular food, me a cheeseburger with everything and fries, and the girls each got a popcorn chicken meal. When it came time to pay Popcorn turned to me and whispered, "Mom! I need your debit card so I can pay for lunch!"

And she took my card and happily swiped it. She proudly handed it back to me and said, "Happy Mother's Day!"

Signs of The Times

2011-10-06T18:57:00.000-05:00

I'm observant. I notice people. What they are wearing, their hair, their overall appearance of health. I tend to spontaneously make diagnoses as I'm out and about based on skin tone, fingernail health and the shape of their hands and chest...The list goes on. I like to watch people and see how they act, and wonder what they are doing, where they are from and what sort of lives they lead. I like to try and guess if the mom stays home or if the grandma is raising her grandkids, or if that dad who is buying groceries with kids in tow is going to get home with any real food...

Like I said, I'm observant.

Except when I'm not observant, and then I'm just narcissistic and wrapped up in myself.

I'm sure that is an astounding revelation as I write a blog that is all about me. Clearly, any narcissism I have is minimal...

I went grocery shopping on Saturday evening, and while I had not planned to coupon (and believe me if you're using "coupon" as a verb it takes extensive planning) my husband had suggested I run to Crest for all but the toiletries we were in need of.

As I walked into the store I saw an in-store coupon sheet that had a giant sign on it "One flyer per customer and one coupon per item listed per day." I chuckled at the sign, remembering a lady who walked right in front of me at Homeland the other day and took every single in store coupon flyer. And she didn't even let me have one! I just stood their and stared with my jaw on the ground. In hindsight, I wish I had said, "Seriously lady?" However, Crest has a lovely greeter who hands you a cart and stands right by the coupon bin, so I doubt they have that issue.

I happily picked up the flyer and perused it. It looked to have some pretty good deals, but until I saw the price of the product I was unsure. I also was unsure if I could stack the coupons in the flyer with manufacturer coupons, so again I was skeptical on it's worthiness, but decided to compare as I shopped. I was pleasantly surprised to realize that the coupons were usually on two items, but if you used the coupon, your second item would be free. For example Kraft singles were two dollars and the coupon was for two dollars off two packages of Kraft singles.

I joyfully pulled my handy dandy scissors out of my coupon organizer and clipped out the coupons I decided to use as I bought my originally planned items.

As I clipped my coupons I could not help but notice the number of people who were buying the exact item I was, but not using a coupon. I felt compelled to point the coupon flyer out to them. A few of the said "thanks" but others felt coupons were too much work. Even if the flyer was right in front of them and the item was on sale!

I also noticed the large number of families carrying multiple competitor store flyers around, deciding which store had the best price and whether they should wait and go to Homeland in the hopes that they could get some good double coupon deals, or debating if Walmarts chicken breast would be cheaper after the coupon was factored in. Granted, I'm fairly new to couponing, but I promise the amount of people with plastic shoe boxes and binders full of coupons is astounding. Take a gaze around next time you are in the store. You might be surprised.

If you are ever in the downtown area the other thing you might be surprised to notice is the alarming amount of homeless. I drive under the interstate on my way to work in the downtown area every day. As I am driving, the homeless are starting to get up from their beds under the bridge. They each have their own little space between the bridge beams, and they are usually getting up and stretching or straightening their beds as I am stopped waiting on lights. There is also an empty lot just north of the underpass, and the other day I noticed a man standing up in the Johnson grass and diligently combing his hair. Another day I saw a man and woman walking with their arms around each other as they left the little underpass community.

As I mentioned yesterday I went to a resale shop and grabbed some clothes for the girls. Two of the shirts I bought were from Old Navy and still had the tags on them, but I only paid $2.99 for them. I even noticed some jeans from The Buckle with the tag still on them. They were $8.99, and way too big for my girls. I didn't buy them as I have no desire to store jeans for two years in the hopes that the super skinny jean will still be in style when one of my kids can fit them.

Today as we left gymnastics Popcorn begged me to take her to eat Chinese. I was resisting her, saying that her father and I had already discussed tonight would be leftover night, and she could have a sandwich or hot pocket or burrito if she didn't want leftover lasagna...My husband called and suggested that next week we start swapping off who takes Popcorn to gymnastics and make Thursday a little date night with the kids. I decided to make the plan effective immediately, and I wheeled into a little Chinese place in a nearby shopping strip. I had skipped lunch at work, and though I'd stuffed my face with cookies, a handful of goldfish left from my daughter's lunch and a few almonds when I got home, it did not satisfy my hunger. Skipping lunch tends to do that to me.

As we left the shopping strip I noticed that there were sprinklers going in all of the flower beds. The wind is blowing 25 miles per hour and the water was running down the driveway. I find that shameful when we are in a drought that is showing no signs of any significant relief.

So, I really had nothing to say. Just lots of observations.

People are desperate to save money, while others can't even be bothered to take advantage of a deal when it is easily within their grasp.

There is a serious drought going on, and I can't help but shake my head at the folks who have maintained immaculately green lawns.

Some are selling clothes on consignment that have never been worn, while just twenty minutes away others have built themselves a little village under the bridge in downtown.

P.S. On a totally unrelated/irreverent note: Every time I type in couponing, blogger spell check suggests coupling...

What I Did vs What I Should have Done

2011-10-05T22:00:00.002-05:00

I got an unexpected day off today.

I immediately started thinking of all the things I should get done...Especially since I am hoping to pick up a shift tomorrow to make up for today's lost shift.

As soon as I get back home I'm going to:

1. Clean out my closet.
2. Clean my bathrooms.
3. Paint my toes.

The list goes on, but I am too tired to think of much else. After all, as you can guess by the blog title I didn't accomplish anything on my "should have done" list.

I was in the mood to shop. Strange, as I never want to shop. Of course the mood would strike me when I'm short a shift. I decided to make a trip to the local consignment shop where I combed the racks for decent yet cheap clothes. I left with three pairs of jeans, three shirts and a black sparkly dress. All for my kids, of course! And best of all I didn't even spend thirty dollars!

But that's not even the best part! While there I got a great idea for a craft!

Yes, I the official noncrafter saw a craft idea and said, "I can do that!"

Yay me!

After I left there I went to Walmart to purchase a new brush for a certain child who has a bit of a temper. The kind of temper that leads to throwing things. And perhaps breaking them. Apparently the child threw her brush on the ground a few weeks ago when dealing with some particularly nasty tangles and the handle broke off. She has been bumming off of her sister ever since. This morning I realized that this sharing of the hair brush was adding to the rush of trying to get out the door and to the bus in the morning. Originally I had decided she could just suffer and not have a brush, but for obvious reasons that didn't work. By the way: I am certain that no members of my family can relate to the urge to throw something when they are particularly angry.

So, I ran to Walmart and I got a new brush, plus the gift that I had signed up to bring for the local children's home gift drive. While there, I decided to peruse a certain department to see if they had what I needed to make my craft.

And of course they did.

So, I came home and I made a practice version of the craft idea...

Guess who already has her gift idea from the heart idea for the family gift exchange?

Me!

Oh, and for anyone who is confused, my family has a tradition of exchanging homemade gifts at Christmas. I both love and hate it. Love the thought of getting a gift that someone crafted with love. Hate the thought of having to come up with a gift that is not food...Because I could totally do food every single time. But then everyone would always know what to expect from me...

And that would lead to disappointment, and the fervent hope that they don't get Andi's gift. Again.

So. I have an idea for a gift.

And I think it's pretty good.

But I can't even share a hint of it on this blog because my family reads it! I am simply bursting to share my idea!

Seriously? I just succeeded in keeping a secret for an entire month, and now I have to start all over again, and it has to last until Christmas?

I am so in trouble.

Car Conversations...

2011-10-05T08:00:00.003-05:00

I laugh.

A LOT

And I laugh LOUD.

I can't help it. My family is really funny.

As we were driving to Tulsa on Saturday we had two hysterical conversations.

"Babe! There is a giant blue gorilla in front of David Stanley Chevrolet! Let's go there and buy a car right now!"

"Sorry. We can't go there until they add a giant inflatable crocodile."

Truly Gentle Reader have you ever in your life bought a car where they have a giant inflatable? And why is it so often a gorilla? I would like to see the statistics on improved car sales directly proportional to giant inflatable gorillas.

We were listening to Bookworm's iTouch. We had it plugged into our car stereo, and it was on random shuffle. Popcorn was singing along to one of the songs from her new Selena Gomez album.

"Do you already know all of the songs?" I asked her.

"I know every word to every song on this CD" she stated proudly.

Not missing a beat, her dad added "And yet your math facts elude you."

If I Only Had a Brain

2011-10-03T08:00:00.000-05:00

I am about to attempt to tell you a work story. It is a story which could be very complicated and difficult to portray if you aren't a part of the medical field. But if you will just suffer through and try to see my sheer idiocy, I think you will appreciate it.

This week we have been taking care of a lady who has been in the icu for over two weeks now. She suffered a hemmorhagic stroke and the neurosurgeon went in to clip the bleed. After surgery she was completely unresponsive. No reflexes noted. Her eyes are open but they jerk around, never really seeing anything. She is on a ventilator, and she initiates breath, but is unable to fully breathe on her own. Her heart is stable. She has a giant tube coming out the top of her head to drain the excess fluid off, and she has a pressure sensor in there to monitor her intracranial pressure (referred to ICP from this point on.) She also has staples across half of her head where they went in to do the surgery on her brain. Her feet and hands are cold and mottled, and her limbs are limp with no muscle tone response noted when you move or reposition her.

This is all very horrific sounding, I know. It is horrific. Especially when you factor in that the patient's family is English as a second language, and they keep thinking she's going to get better. I don't see how she's going to get better after two weeks of no response, but I'm not God and that's not my decision to make. Instead, I just feel terrible for them.

Here's a news flash for you: I hate brains. I love things to do with the heart and cardiovascular system. I get it. I specialized in it right out of school, and while neurologic issues have never been completely unavoidable, since I've been in my current job they have been few and far between. Imagine my joy when I realized on Monday that I was going to have to bring this patient from the intensive care unit to our department and monitor her while the doctor did a cerebral angiogram, which is basically a study of the vessels in her brain. I got a quick and dirty inservice from the patient's nurse about her drains and what they meant, and especially that her ICP must not get above 20, and her drain needed to stay at the level of her ear. If the drain was repositioned during transport and was above her ear, it wouldn't drain. Too far below the ear, and it would drain too fast.

How do I spell stress? B-R-A-I-N.

Monday we did the procedure with no hitches. We injected some medicine directly into her brain that was supposed to improve blood flow to her brain. I was annoyed to learn that we would be bringing her back daily until she gets better.

So we had to bring her back on Tuesday. On Tuesday I went with one of my nurse friends for our department, and we had agreed to tag team her. I was feeling pretty okay with it, as the previous day had gone fine.

Well, of course by the time I moved her to our table and got my monitor hooked up, and the respiratory therapist put her on a portable ventilator, her ICP had climbed to 28. "Well crap." But then as I looked through her chart I realized that it said to notify the doctor if the ICP stayed up more than 10 minutes. So I waited a bit.

Her ICP didn't budge...I lowered the drain...it still didn't budge, nor did it begin to drain. I started to sweat. Profusely. I was so glad I had another nurse assisting me, and our plan was for her to stay with the patient and do basic care, and I would fetch anything she needed, or call the ICU nurse if she had a question, or whatever needed done...

I paged the neurosurgeon, Dr. X. We will call him Dr. X as his last name has no less than 11 letters and like 5 syllables, and even after talking to him like twenty times I am still not sure how to pronounce it.

So, Dr. X calls back. I inform him of her ICP, her blood pressure, her heart rate, her oxygen levels, and I even was able to tell him what her medications were running at. I was mentally patting myself on the back for having facts, even as I felt sweat trickling between my shoulder blades.

"What is her ventriculostomy pressure?"

Now, this doctor has a pretty strong accent. I was pretty sure I'd misheard him. Because it sounded like he said ventriculostomy, and I was pretty sure no such word existed...So, I said, "Excuse me?"

"Ventriculostomy pressure. What is it?"

"I'm sorry. I can understand ventricul something or other, but that is all."

"Ventriculostomy. Ventriculostomy. Ventriculostomy. What is the pressure reading on it?"

Okay. So he DEFINITELY said ventriculostomy. Which I still felt pretty sure was not a real word. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm not sure what you mean by that." I'm pretty sure that instilled all sorts of confidence in my roll as this patient's care giver.

"On the monitor, what does it say her ventriculostomy pressure is?" Okay. He just keeps saying the same thing over and over. Apparently it's real. And he expects me to know what it is, and what to do about it.

Crapola.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but the only pressure reading I have is off of the Camino, and it says her ICP is 28."

"But there is another monitor coming out of her head. Do you see it?"

WHAT????

"No sir. I only see the Camino pressure monitor and her drain. I will call the ICU nurse to come show me what to do."

"Wait a minute. Aren't you a nurse?"

"Yes sir. I'm a nurse, but to be honest I'm a PROCEDURAL nurse, and while I had Scott give me a quick and dirty report on how to care for this patient, he never said the word ventriculostomy to me."

He then informed me that he had ordered her drain clamped, and that the ICP had probably raised due to the stress of moving, and I simply needed to open the ventriculostomy during the procedure and leave it open for one hour after...

There was that darn WORD again.

So I called the ICU nurse. And it turns out that the ventriculostomy is the drain that I was calling a DRAIN. Because that is what the simple folk call a drain for your brain...a drain. He showed me that he had clamped the drain off the day before, so no matter how low I moved the drain, it wasn't going to lower her ICP. Oh did I mention that I all but put that drain on the floor trying to drop her ICP? Did I mention that by this point my scrubs were soaked in sweat under my lead apron? I told my nurse friend that while I felt incredibly stupid, at least I'd probably never have to meet Dr. X face to face.

Well we opened the drain, and low and behold the ICP dropped to the normal range, and we were able to complete our procedure. After we finished up Dr. X, the neurosurgeon showed up...At least I guessed it was him. He was in a doctor's coat, and he was unfamiliar to me. I could totally tell he was looking for me. I decided to take the bull by the horns.

"Hi! Are you Dr. X?" Sound cheerful and nonchalantly confident Andi. Then he will decide that while you may be a ditz at least you're friendly...

"Yes, I am."

"I'm Andi. I was the nurse on the phone with you earlier. I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding earlier. I don't want you to think we don't know what we're doing here. Except I have never dealt with one of these before. So I guess that means I really don't." And I smiled my most winning smile and I gave a little lighthearted chuckle. Could you just shut up? Why must you blabber on when you are nervous? Or happy? Or sad?

"No problem. I'm sorry too. I thought I was speaking with the ICU nurse, so I was wondering how you didn't know what the monitors were for."

I was so relieved that he wasn't angry, and surprisingly nice but still relatively sure he thought I was a nincompoop...I decided fleeing was the smart thing to do in this situation...I gently lead him to our control room where I introduced him to our doctor, and headed back to the intensive care with the patient.

Of course I ran into Dr. X again before I was gone.

Blast it all! Must this man suddenly be everywhere I have to be?

And I began to blush and sweat even more profusely than I already was..."Hi!" I decided to keep up my light and friendly facade. It wouldn't do at all for him to realize I never wanted to see him again.

"Hello. I wanted to apologize about not realizing where you were earlier..." And he proceeded to take me back to the patient bedside and explain that the ventriculostomy pressure was monitored by a bedside monitor in the ICU, so I really could not have told him that reading as the monitor wasn't with me. And he took the time to explain things to me in a much better detail than the nurse had. And I was able to understand him easier face to face.

That made me feel much better.

And a little bit less of an idiot.

However, I still hate brains...

On a more positive note, I found out that as of January first two neuro interventionalists will be coming to work in our department, and that all of us have to go through special training to know how to care for brain injury patients. I can only begin to guess the sort of ego that comes with a person who is willing to work on brains by inserting a catheter into the artery in your groin and working their way to the brain...And I can only guess this will lead to more interaction with Dr. X...

Oh, wait. That is actually TERRIBLE news. Blast it all.

So I Needed a Quick Recipe for Eggless Muffins.

2011-10-02T21:39:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow we have an old/new doctor coming. Old because he was at our hospital before...New because now he's working there full time so we won't be sharing doctors with 3 other hospitals...

So, as a "Welcome to Saints" gesture my supervisor and I discussed bagels and fruit. And coffee. He is a coffee freak, much like me only he consumes way more than I do. And he is a vegetarian, so that limited what we were bringing.

I had been thinking about this fact (the food issue) off and on all weekend. Not enough to actually DO something about it, but still it was in my brain, bubbling to my attention once in a while, but I would swat it back down and cuddle the puppy. Or take a two hour nap. Or spend three hours getting groceries. For the record, other than several gallons of milk I had not bought one grocery item in 15 days. We were a little low on a few things...

And completely out of some things like conditioner, soap, lotion, and deodorant for myself. So, considering I didn't want to be a smelly frizzy haired person (more so than usual, that is) I decided to drag myself to Walmart and Crest on Saturday evening. I had not planned enough to coupon like normal, so there are no tales of glory for me to share with you today.

Anyhoo, back to subject matter: I was helping at children's choir Sunday evening, and my supervisor sent me a text that she was going to Panera to buy bagels and should she buy a fruit tray...Well, my sixth sense of frugality jumped to the fore and I texted her right back that I would make blueberry muffins (I had bought a big batch of fresh blueberries from the reduced for quick sale bin) and she could bring some fruit...

Then I got home and remembered the whole vegetarian thing. I texted to ask about eggs. I knew he drank milk and ate cheese, but was uncertain of the egg status. Of course he doesn't eat eggs. And while I was tempted to say "Oops, sorry you made a bad decision to not eat meat, even though you wear leather shoes" I decided that was not the nicest decision. So I googled "eggless muffin recipes" and "how to substitute for eggs in baking." I perused several recipes, and settled on the two I'm about to share, with some alterations. I am giving you the altered recipe of course.

I think they are both going to turn out well. They are lovely in their pans. I was a tad concerned that the muffins call for no salt, but the batter tasted great, so I hope the muffins do too!

Eggless Blueberry Muffins

Ingredients:

2 cups all-purpose flour ( I’ve been trying to use more whole wheat flour so I use 1 cup whole wheat flour and 1 cup regular)
1 cup sugar, plus 2 tsp. more
4 tsp. baking powder
1 cup milk
3 Tbs. melted butter
1 cup fresh blueberries

Heat oven to 350. Line 12 muffin cups with paper liners. Combine flour, sugar and baking powder in a medium-size bowl. Stir in milk by hand and melted butter. Fold in blueberries. Fill each cup 2/3 full. Bake at 350 for 25 minutes.

Eggless Blueberry Coffee Cake

INGREDIENTS:

All Purpose Flour - 1 cup
Baking Powder - 1/2 tsp
Baking Soda - 1/2 tsp
Salt - 1/8 tsp
Unsalted Butter - 3 tbsp
Sugar - 1/4 cup + 1/8 cup
Mashed Ripe Banana - 1/4 cup
Vanilla Extract - 3/4 tsp
Milk 2% - 1/2 cup
Vinegar - 1/2 tsp
Fresh Blueberries - 1/2 cup

TOPPING:

Brown Sugar - 2 tbsp
Cinnamon - 1/2 tsp
Pecans - 1/4 cup

DIRECTIONS:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a square pan.

2. In a bowl combine all the dry ingredients... flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

3. In a small bowl combine the topping ingredients... brown sugar, cinnamon, and pecans.

4. If you do not have buttermilk on hand, then combine the milk and vinegar and set aside for 5 minutes. This is a substitute for buttermilk.

5. In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar until well blended.

6. Add the applesauce, vanilla extract, and almond extract and blend.

7. Add the dry ingredients and milk to the butter/sugar mixture in 3 parts, starting with the dry and ending with the dry. DO NOT OVERMIX!

8. Fold in the blueberries.

9. Pour the batter into the baking dish.

10. Top with the cinnamon-pecan topping.

11. Bake for 25-30 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. I baked these 25 minutes exactly.

12. Cool before cutting into squares. Be careful, this cake is extremely soft.

So there you have it. Tomorrow I'm on call, and I plan to make Brent a fabulous cheese cake. I bake him one every year for his birthday. I'm sort of kicking myself for that two hour nap when I could have been working on his cake. A cheese cake is not something you can assemble and have completed in an hour like I did the two above recipes...

Oh well. Who needs sleep? It's not like we're getting much anyway considering somebody's puppy is awake every two hours to go potty!

P.S. It is now Monday morning. I had made a few extra muffins for the girls. They are good, but I find them a little sweet. I will let you know about the coffee cake tonight.

CLEARLY We Do Not Have Enough To Do

2011-10-01T14:23:00.001-05:00

Studmuffin's birthday is the 4th.

He is hard to buy a present for.

He is hard to surprise.

Oh, and here's another news flash for you: There is approximately 1/8th of a nanosecond before my thoughts come vomiting out of my mouth.

Clearly it is a mystery why I can never surprise the man...

So this year I did the unthinkable. The unatainable. The unBELIEVABLE!!!

It all began about two months ago. He had began speaking in earnest about getting another Brittany. Instead of having a panic attack which was my first instinct, I got onto this new fangled invention known as the internet.

And I did some research. Then I emailed him links such as this one: Brittany Spaniels.

And then I emailed a link such as this one: German Short Hair Pointers. Because this was his second choice of dog.

And while I truly loved Holly, our previous Brittany, we simply could not keep up with walking her eight miles a day, and neither could we realistically be with her all but a few hours a day, which is what I kept finding as recommendations for keeping this breed of dog calm...Basically the opposite of her. Oh, she was the perfect dog when we were home. It was when we were off to work that she ate the wiring to the air conditioner. Three times. And it was while we were at work that she chewed up the stairs to the pool. And it was while we were at work that she chewed a hunk out of her giant rubber indestructable dog bowl. And it was while we were at work that she decided to dig under the fence and eat the pool filter...

So. Holly no longer lives with us. She has been gone over a year now.

And Studmuffin and the girls were scaring the living daylights out of me by earnestly searching for a new Brittany puppy.

I stated quite emphatically: Do NOT bring home a puppy without me first approving it.

And then I did more research. His goal in obtaining a dog is that he wants a hunting companion. Since I lost three birds the last time I went hunting with him, I could not even use the excuse that I would bird dog for him...I decided to do research on dogs that were bred for hunting, and decided that we needed either a lab or a golden.

Then one night he said, "I do NOT want a black lab. Everyone has a black lab."

So. That narrowed my search.

And then I learned something else. Golden Retrievers are not as easy to find as a labrador. At last I found some Golden puppies that were available October first. Bingo! The girls and I schemed that we would pretend to go birthday shopping on the first, when in fact we were going to have to drive to Tulsa to meet the breeder who was flying out puppies that day.

And my children kept the secret for three whole weeks. Seriously! They did not breathe a word.

Of course, my husband did the unthinkable and one day last week he said, "Hey, the weekend of the first is the OU vs Ball State game. They will cream Ball State, so the tickets are cheap. I thought we could take the girls to a game finally."

Of course I panicked and was completely unable to come up with any reason why we couldn't go, other than, "Umm. I think I may have plans that weekend." And then the girls started chiming in that it was indeed impossible for us to go to a game that particular day.

And Studmuffin tried to manipulate us into telling him by pretending to have his feelings hurt that we were all keeping secrets from him...

But we stood firm.

And at some point he decided that I was surprising him with new sofas...

Because that would clearly require a two hour drive one way to pick up. And there is obviously no way I could get a new sofa within a 120 mile radius of our house...And obviously every man wants new sofas for his birthday.

So, at 6:30 am this morning we began our drive to Tulsa. And he nagged and tried to guess all the way there what we were doing. I had asked him to throw in tie downs for his pickup. And he grabbed a wrench and tossed both hitch balls in too as a precaution since he had stated "You realize that my pickup bed will only hold one sofa." To which I replied, "Your pickup has a hitch."

And none of that was a lie...

So we drive drive drive, and when we finally got to Tulsa I said, "Hey I saw a sign back there for a Quik Trip off of Exit 222. Just pull off of there, and I will take a quick bathroom break, then I will take over driving."

Now, I had planned to meet Dan, the breeder at the QT. He had said he would be there between 8:00 and 8:30, but he would take a nap while he waited. He didn't want to worry about me hurrying and getting into an accident. He said he would be in a Suburban on the west side, and he would be napping...

I had planned to pretend to go into the bathroom, then when my husband went in I would go back out, grab the dog and pay for her, then promptly return to the pickup...Only Dan wasn't there. I went into the bathroom and texted him. He had been fooling around at the airport because he figured there was no way I would arrive before 9. He was exiting as he replied. I saw a suburban with a definitely friendly face pull up, and handed my husband all of the drinks and headed out the door...

I practically ran to the Suburban. I threw the cash in his face, and tried to nonchalantly tell him to shut up the chitter chatter and just give me the bloody dog so I can surprise my husband...

Unfortunately the I don't want to be rude but shut up and hurry up scheme didn't work...And the girls and their dad came strolling out of the QT just as I was scooping up our new little bundle of joy.

But he was definitely surprised!

So, here she is. Our brand new puppy, Chesney.

I took these photos with my phone and didn't realize that the girls had set it on a weird setting. I have no idea what that color is about.

However, I think you can still tell that she is adorable.

Studmuffin decided on Chesney because she is a dark color for a golden. Which is why I picked her. The breeder had photos of the litter online, and I picked the one with the darkest coat. Studmuffin decided she is almost a chesnut color...

Ain't she sweet? Remind me of how sweet I think she is when I am ranting about all the stuff she has chewed up.

I will end with a few picks that I snapped the first few minutes we had her home with us.

Oliver: What on earth is THAT thing?

Chesney: Why hello giant fluffy creature? Can I lick your face?

And Oliver promptly smacked her three times across the face. Which I did not catch on camera. But one can for sure say this: Chesney may NOT lick Oliver's face.

She was playing with a ball here. I am a terrible photographer, and I missed it. Also, I'm impatient, and too busy watching life in real time to think to snap it with a camera.

Her new collar is itching her neck terribly. She kept having to stop her wrestling with Kelsey to scratch her neck.

Chesney wants to play. Kelsey wants to sniff her bottom for about four solid hours. Or days. However long it takes for her to decide whatever decision bottom sniffing leads to.

And that is all the photos I have for you for now. Next time perhaps I will move off of my bench on the cool shady porch and take some real photos.

But I can't make any promises.

Oh, and the reason we needed my husband's pickup was that I had bought a Great Dane kennel from a friend at work. Since we have a fence up, but it isn't completely done, I was afraid there may be a few places that weren't puppy proof. As it turns out, I think she can only sneak out at the curves of the gate, and that should only last a few weeks. But regardless now we have a nice wire kennel to put her in should the need arise!

And one last note: The kittens (which look less and less like kittens every day) are hiding from Chesney. They need to take a page from Oliver's book and smack her around now, or they will have two dogs chasing them up the tree instead of just one.

The Face of Evil

2011-09-29T08:00:00.004-05:00

I just read a post by Mrs. de Elba. It was hysterical. You totally need to click here and go read it...

Don't worry. I will wait.

Are you back? Good.

See the photo below? Don't let that wholesome all American face fool you...

As I read about Mrs. de Elba's laughter directed at her children, I remembered a moment in time when I laughed uproariously at my children. And lots of people stared at me.

And they did NOT approve of my laughter.

We were still living in Arlington Texas, which put my precious little ones at the ripe old age of three and four...(For the record, I think it was the first Halloween in our house in South Texas, which puts them at 4 & 5, but my husband disagrees...)

It was Halloween, or perhaps August. All I know is that all of the Halloween stuff was out, and my kids were begging me for new costumes...I spotted a scary mask. I calmly slipped it on...

And simply turned and looked at them.

That is all. I put it on. And I looked at them.

And they both began to scream...

And scream...

And cry...

And scream...

And I proceeded to laugh.

HYSTERICALLY. Laugh as in, I think I might just wet my pants laugh...

I mean, seriously. All I did was put on a mask. Who would think they would completely freak out?

So...I got some evil looks from my fellow mother's in the Halloween Spooktacular section of our local Walmart.

Yes. I am evil.

And I'm totally okay with that.

The Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Expo

2011-09-28T07:24:00.007-05:00

This past Saturday we went to the Wildlife Expo. It was a great day, and I thought you would enjoy my synopsis of it in pictures along with my random thoughts involving said pictures. For example the picture above makes me laugh. I look awkward, and my daughter is ducking down between us so we can look sweet and in love, but it is just truly hard to take a good photo holding the camera yourself.

There was a dog show involving labradors and golden retrievers. I have much to say about this, but can tell you the rest in about a week. See the girls? They kept getting closer and closer and closer...Thankfully they didn't actually climb up on the stage like some kids!

The kids went kayaking. I now am quite certain I need a kayak. A two person one to be exact so I can go have fun when Studmuffin is fishing with my family over fall break. I will strap it to the top of our Apache tent camper and drive it merrily down the road. As I am the Queen of All Things Cheap or Better Yet Free, please advise if you know where I can get a cheap/free two person kayak. Thank you.

We all got to pet an alligator...
And a millipede and snakes, and many other creepy crawlies.

Oh look! Another self portrait! How impressive. I look fake.

Studmuffin gleefully posed with his new trophy: Smoky the Bear.

Another beagle? On top of the beagle who did NOT move to my house this summer, despite his attempts, we have had a beagle pup who lives one mile north of us show up in our yard a lot lately. The girls bonded with this mama immediately. What is God trying to tell me about beagles?

Oh, lookey there! Another self portrait. I was feeling quite photogenic, apparently. Too bad I'm simply pale and ghostly. Oh, and look at my daughter in her dad's old Browning hat. How sweet.

The girls stood in line to do a mini ropes course. I sat on a bale of hay while they waited their turn. Who knew walking around an expo and standing in line could make one's back ache so?

The Boy Scouts were on safety patrol. As we were headed home, we stopped at Braum's where I ran in to grab milk and there was a group of scouts leaving. Apparently one of them tried to mistakenly climb in our vehicle. Their troop master stopped to tell Brent he was sorry for the mix up. Brent said, "Yeah, he can track wild animals but he can't find his car in the parking lot!"

My husband...He's funny.

Popcorn did a mountain bike trail. Alone. Studmuffin had taken Bookworm to brush up on her archery skills, and my back was too unsteady for such folderol. My last thought as she peddled away, "Please God, don't let any psycho pedophiles jump out and snatch her before the next kid comes down the trail."

My thoughts are never irrational. Why do you ask?

If only I'd snapped this photo a split second later. She totally wiped out. It was great. And unexpected. And she laughed, so it was okay for me to laugh at her.

I see this photo, and my brain says, "Bend and SNAP!" If you do not know Legally Blonde, that statement makes no sense.

Bookworm endeavoring to prove that she does have a future in archery...And that a scholarship in said field is totally a reasonable expectation.

We stopped at Pop's on Historic Route 66. You must put HISTORIC in front of Route 66. Not sure why, but you must. Probably because it's historic...as in obsolete now that the interstate has come to town...

They have more sodas than you can fathom. Bookworm went with Faygo made in Michigan....

This is Popcorn realizing her soda was from....LEBANON??? She had apparently grabbed a bottle from the international soda section. Studmuffin and I both thought it tasted like a wine cooler...

Seagram's golden wine coolers...

Do you remember Bruce Willis singing that commercial in the 80s/90s? He is totally to blame for my sampling that bottle of sparkling goodness in college.

And, for our GRAND FINALE!!!!

Oooooh! Look at the happy couple! She with her Round Barn Root Beer and him with his Dublin Doctor Pepper...

Now. Wasn't that fun? What fun things has your family done recently? Do tell!

Fall of Energy

2011-09-27T14:07:00.000-05:00

Sunday my back was feeling much better...

As in not aching at all!

Of course, that made me spring into action. It's the end of the month, and we are low on food stuff. My girls eat waffles every single morning for breakfast. I usually take the easy way out and buy Nutrigrain Whole Wheat Blueberry waffles. But, they are expensive, hardly ever go on sale, and they are stingy with coupons!

I had all of the ingredients to make whole wheat pancake/waffle mix, so I decided to make up a big stock pile. I confess my girls love this mix fresh, but never go for it when it's frozen. However, since it will be their only choice for a few weeks, they will get over it.

So, this is what my kitchen looked like Sunday afternoon:

Go ahead, be wowed at what a tidy cook I am....

Originally I was going to just do waffles, but that takes enormous amounts of patience from me, as you must stand over the iron, and there was nothing to do while I waited. I pulled out my griddle and decided to make up pancakes at the same time. I did a total of three and a half batches, because that's how much wheat flour I had! I understand that most of you, Gentle Readers do not suffer from impatience, evidenced by the fact that you read this rambling blog, but please understand that it is a trial to be me, and to live with me. My husband would appreciate your prayers.

And please disregard the sauce pan on the stove that I had neglected to throw in the dishwasher after lunch. Perhaps washing up might have been an advisable activity while I waited on the waffle iron?

Oh, let's just pause a moment while I give a big "THANK YOU" to my sister, Paula. She had sent us home with some of her homemade bierox a few weeks ago, and we enjoyed them for lunch Sunday. My only complaint is that now my husband does not understand why I won't make them. I said he's more than welcome to call her and find out how to make them.

Alright. Let's return to our original topic. Here's a recipe for you!

Whole Wheat Pancake/Waffle Mix

3 c unbleached all purpose flour
3 c whole wheat flour
4 T baking powder
3 T sugar
1 tsp salt

As you can see this makes a big batch of mix. Simply store it in an airtight container, and measure out desired amount for your waffles/pancakes/biscuits or whatever you want!

Now, here's the recipe for the pancakes/waffles.

2 c mix
2 eggs
1 3/4 c milk
3 T melted butter/2 T oil (I use oil for waffles and butter for pancakes usually, but since I was feeling impatient this past Sunday I used oil in all of it.)
2 eggs
1-2 tsp vanilla.

This makes a big batch, so feel free to cut it in half. Just use a short cup of milk as it taxes my brain to measure out 7/8 cup. How much difference can 1/8 cup make? If it turns out too thin, I just throw in a dab more mix, and everyone but me is none the wiser.

I stirred in some fresh blue berries in about half of the batches last Sunday. That is always a special treat. However, be aware that the blueberries will stick to your waffle iron, so I ended up spraying it with cooking spray. I don't usually have to do that as my iron is nonstick.

Great stir in ideas
-cinnamon
-maple syrup/extract
-chocolate chips
-just have fun with it, and surprise your family with a wholesome breakfast that you know how to pronounce every single ingredient in!

So that's my Sunday afternoon! Hope you make use of this delicious and nutritious recipe! Oh, and I must give to credit to my beautiful friend Tara for originally giving me this recipe several years ago. When my girls would go stay with her, they always told me her waffles were better than mine. Since I was using her recipe, I consider that just messed up. Perhaps she threw in a little more sugar?

What great time saving/money saving tips do you have for me?

In a Pickle

2011-09-26T08:59:00.013-05:00

Last Friday we had Family Game Night. We love family game night. We go through phases where we faithfully do it every Friday. Then, we get busy, and Mom & Dad are too tired and cranky to put up with Bookworm's meltdowns when she loses and Popcorn's frequent chair abandonment in the middle of her turn to do cartwheels...

But this Friday we were all in great humors and in peaceful harmony, so we decided to trash the family harmony and play games. We started out with our standard, Sorry. We play Sorry every time and every single time certain family members are poor winners and somebody else is a sore loser. The person playing these roles varies from one time to the next...

Y'know. Just to keep it all fresh.

This past Friday Popcorn drug out her game In a Pickle. She got it for Christmas, and for some strange reason we have not played it since last January.

Here's the premise of the game. Each player has five cards, with nouns listed on them. There are four cards in the middle of the play area. You play your cards either directly above or below an item to make it where the items are progressively bigger...

For example, I had an atom, so I put that above the skeleton. Popcorn put a chicken below the skeleton, and then the next item could be a barn...so an atom is in a skeleton, which is in a chicken that lives in the barn.

Once a card has four cards in it, like the above example, it becomes a "pickle round." In this round, you can only play larger items on the final object, like a barn could be in France, which is in the Universe...The round goes around the table one time, with the person who played the fourth object (like the barn) getting an extra turn.

Is this making any sense?

Well, the hilarity of the game is how creatively our family can think. My husband becomes very frustrated. Popcorn asked what a scandal was and promptly played it below an earthquake...Which Bookworm then said was all in "thoughts." We laughed uproariously at this...

However Studmuffin was not happy that I said everything could fit in a dictionary...Even a universe, so then the dictionary could fit in a library, which could fit in a parking lot...

See what I mean? The game is really fun. The best part is when a player challenges your thought process and you say "well, France could fit in the river, because it's the Mississippi River, and all of that water can totally cover France." Or when Popcorn threw down the noun "reflection" and stoutly proclaimed that a canyon could absolutely be in a reflection of the water...Or when I declared that a forest was in the headlights of my car. No, not the entire forest, but certainly the headlights were shining and there was the forest, dead ahead in them!

These statements made the girls and I laugh hysterically while Studmuffin got very frustrated with our crazy thinking.

There is no point to this post. I just wanted to share our fun with you...

And perhaps give you a good idea for an inexpensive, yet very fun Christmas gift! Or, perhaps you need a ten dollar birthday gift for your next child's party...

Now you've got one!

What special things do you do as a family? What memories are you making with your family? Do you have a favorite family activity?

Do you have any great family games that we may not have discovered? Please share. We all exchange games as our family gifts, so we could use some new ideas!

Feeling Sentimental

2011-09-24T08:37:00.015-05:00

Have you heard that ridiculous country song, ""I Hear Voices." It's not my favorite, but today I find that I'm hearing voices. Or rather, I'm being reminded of loved ones.

As you know from Wednesday's blog, I hurt my back at work. It worries me to have back pain. I simply do not have time for back pain. And, having an injured back makes it tough to do my job. I don't want to get into all of the worries that are floating in the not so back of my consciousness. It makes my back hurt worse!

I was given Friday off by my supervisor. We had a light day scheduled, and she asked if I'd like to take the day to try and rest/heal my back.

Guess what?

I'm TERRIBLE at resting. When I have mountains of things to do, and little time to do it, I am GREAT at resting. In nursing school I realized that I have two reactions to stress. One reaction is to organize every detail of my life that I can even remotely control. The other is sleep. It is a sleep that can not be avoided. As in, I would be sitting in a chair trying to desperately understand the renal system, and the next thing I'd know, it would be two hours later and drool would be running down my face.

Thursday I rested. I attempted to some light housework, but my back spasmed every time I tried to move something, or reached in a certain way. I ended up finishing a free Nook book that I didn't particularly enjoy, but determined to finish it. I clipped three weeks worth of coupons, and cleaned out about half the expired ones.

I swear by 7pm I thought the day was never going to end.

So, Friday I sat on my couch and slowly sipped my coffee, and looked out the window at the brilliant sunshine, and decided there was nothing for it. I simply had to wash my light fixtures and windows.

Because, clearly that is just the remedy for back pain.

Why is this post called "Feeling Sentimental?" Patience, Dear Reader. I'm getting there in my rambling too drawn out fashion.

I washed windows. And I thought of my Grandma Irene. I could picture her, with her cream colored wash pan and white tea towels helping me scrub the fly specks off of her kitchen window and storm doors. Grandma Irene has never allowed a speck of dust to make itself at home in her house. She was and still is a hard worker.

She is also very no nonsense. She will say the most outrageous things. And they will be true. But somehow, you can't help but laugh at the crazy thing she just said. I think I'm a little like her in that way. I have a terrible tendency to say what I think, then think twice about what already popped out of my mouth.

As I sat at my dining room table, eating a bowl of leftover chili, my gaze wandered to my new chairs. It set my mind to remembering Grandmama Dolly. I really don't think I am much like her at all. Perhaps we have some similar physical attributes. She was always tall and thin with long thin fingers and small wrists. I have never been as thin as her, and never will be, but I have really long arms and legs, and my fingers are long and thin like hers. Oh, and we both love a cute pair of heels, and I remember her saying that skirts should hit just above or just below the knee to be the most flattering. I have no idea why she told me that, or why I remember it, but I find it to be true!

While I was thinking of her and missing her, I decided to treat myself to a cup of coffee. Feeling indulgent, I added some hazelnut creamer to the cup. Since Grandmama was fresh in my mind, I felt a pang of guilt over the unnecessary calories and fat from that creamer. I don't know of very many grandmas who tell their grandchildren, "Don't drink so much milk, it will make you fat." Or, better yet, "Don't eat so much bread, you don't want to get fat." I was always horrified when she would say such things to me, but now I see how right she was. Granted, I still drink a giant glass of milk every single morning, but you can bet Grandmama Dolly's bright red Roper boots that it is skim!

As I looked at the not so practical chair in my living room, I realized I may be more like her than I realized. My mom has told me they never had matching furniture growing up. Well, considering my house is decorated with odds and ends that I have accumulated and kept for various sentimental reasons, perhaps I take after her more than I think!

Grandma Irene has a very few nick knacks scattered through her house. They are the same ones I always remember, with the exception of a few things she's received as a gift in the last few years. Her house is always spotless, and every flower arrangement and little figurine is exactly as it should be, and no dust dare live near it.

Grandmama Dolly had more nick knacks and whatnots than the eye could discover on a distracted scan of the room. She had 5 kids, 16 grandkids, and I won't even attempt counting greats and great greats. She had lots of framed photos that we all gave her of our families. She could always name everyone's birthday. That always amazed me. I can barely remember my siblings birthdays!

I bemoan the things I have scattered throughout my house. I swear, at times I let it get so bad, that one could pretend they were walking through a junk shop as they wander my house! But so many of them have sentimental value, or they just make me think of my grandparents, so I simply must put them out!

I'm contemplating asking my husband to drag my box of fall decorations down, but that would mean eliminating some of the "things" that make me smile to look at! However, if I don't put something up, you won't even be able to see the different decorations!

Oh, well, this point is not well thought out, and flows terribly. I guess I will just show you some random photos of a few trinkets I've laid about. Apparently so I can have something to dust around.

Wait! What am I saying? I don't dust as a general rule. I do not dust, empty the dishwasher or scoop dog poop. I have children for those tasks. Even if they don't dust as well as I'd like. At least I'm not doing it.

This porcelain doll is the only wrapped Christmas gift I ever remember getting from Grandmama. One of my girls posed her behind this frame with an old doll dresser and the old red truck. Affection for old junk seems to keep trickling down the line.

Obviously I didn't get to this window. But I love these old bottles. Grandmama Dolly had a thing for bottles. They were everywhere. As I sit in my claw footed Grandmama Dolly chair and type this I can count 12 bottles and old mason jars within my eyes range.

I take that gift thing back! She gave me this bit of pottery she bought on a trip with Granddad! But I don't think it was for Christmas. And I do know I received it as an adult. How cute are those little books? They are actually little card games! Fun! See why I can't pack all of this away to never be gazed at?

This vinegar jar used to be Grandmama's. I remember her giving it to me when I still lived in South Texas. I was so happy to get it and afraid I'd break it on my way home. The other stuff is sheer junk. A rooster from the Grand Canyon, and popcorn tubs from a dear friend as a parting gift when we moved, and just a random jar to make the scene complete.

This is just a pile of random stuff I carried home from going through Grandmama's stuff that Mom had. She was an avid bowler, and those little pins make me smile. I'm a TERRIBLE bowler. I wear the bracelets and necklace. I've never been one for accessories, but each time I slip them on, they make me think of my Grandmama, and I smile.

So that's it. Today I'm sentimental. What treasures do you have that bring up fond thoughts of your grandparents?

By the way, Grandmama was a country music fanatic. She would have loved that song.

Dinner Conversation

2011-09-23T09:59:00.010-05:00

Last night we had chili for dinner. It was fabulous.

Side note: Popcorn has gymnastics on Thursday. She eats a snack on the way there, and a snack on the way home, but watch out if dinner is not basically ready when we get home. She is so hungry that she has total melt down if she has to wait even twenty minutes. Home made pizza night has now moved to Wednesday night, for obvious reasons.

Back to topic: The chili was good. I really really really wanted a third bowl. "I really want some more chili, but I am trying to resist."

"You are having an inner conflict," Bookworm informed me in all earnestness.

Where does she come up with this stuff?

By the way: Happy Fall!

Oh, and after trying this trick, I googled it to figure out where the whole egg balancing thing began, and guess what? You can do this every single day of the year!

Here's a Snopes link for your edification:
http://www.snopes.com/science/equinox.asp

Today is a Good Day For...

2011-09-22T08:59:00.000-05:00

It's raining.

Can I get an AMEN?

I am out of funds for the month...Darn this envelope system...So instead of doing rainy day shopping, I will:

1. Clean house and light fall scented candles in every room.
2. Drag fall decorations one by one out of the attic. I hurt my darn back and don't dare carry down the box.
3. Place my pumpkins all about in my freshly cleaned home.
4. Make a giant crock pot of chili, enough to perhaps freeze for a busy day...Do any of you ever have chili left overs? No matter how much I think I make, it all seems to get eaten within a few days. My girls like to take it in a thermos for lunch.
5. Bake a double batch of ginger cookies. That should solidify that fall is in the air smell. Besides, Aunt Flo is in for a visit and she loves ginger cookies. She gets cranky when her needs aren't met, so hopefully that will help shut her up.
6. Do a yoga and pilates workout. I hurt my darn back a month ago moving a bed by myself at work that was older than Methuselah, and it didn't steer well. I keep having random flare ups of debilitating left flank muscular pain. I'm trying to build up my ab muscles and keep my hamstrings limber by doing plenty of core exercises.

Random fact: I keep calling it my right flank, but it is clearly my left. This comes from 15 years of flipping my right and left when charting on patients. You know, their left is my right...Sadly, I have now decided to call my right my left. It is quite embarrassing when I point at my brace my left flank and say, "The right side of my back is killing me."

But if that's the most embarrassing thing I do today, I will be doing great.

Do you know what Saturday was a great day for?

Kite flying!

I wish I had taken a closer up photo...And as you can see, we got our fence up, and flaked out on finishing out the top rail.

But then, if we had all of our "to dos" done, what would we do?

Well, perhaps we would find SOMETHING to do.

And by the way: How beautiful is this girl? For the first time she is truly encountering "mean girl" syndrome. I am tempted to call certain girls by very bad names.

But I'm the adult. So I'm refraining.

For now.

What are your plans for Thursday?

P.S. My dog is scared of thunder storms. Either that, or she senses Popcorn is. We brought her in last night, knowing it was going to rain, and when it started lightning nearly nonstop she ran from room to room sniffing each of us, and finally went to sleep next to my 9 year old daughter's bed. At least that kept Popcorn from climbing in bed with me, which is the normal response to thunder and lightning!

Boys

2011-09-15T18:25:00.002-05:00

When my girls and I visited my folks a month or so ago, I reclaimed the "Middle Bedroom." This bedroom is clearly MY bedroom, although Mom insists on referring to it as the "Middle Bedroom." This could be due to the fact that Dawn, being the oldest did not have a bedroom as soon as she went to college. Instead, her few remaining belongings were shifted to my room, and Paula was given what was formerly Dawn's room, but is now referred to as the "South Bedroom." So, Paula clearly does not have a bedroom as she originally shared a room with Dawn until my folks built on, then Dawn got her own room (now known as the South Bedroom) and Paula and I shared my bedroom. There was just entirely too much moving about for Paula to claim any particular bedroom as her own.

David's old bedroom isn't even a bedroom anymore. It is now a sewing room. There is not a trace of him to be found in there. Not even the urine smell from when he decided to have his own bathroom. After all, he had heard that some people had bathrooms for each of their children. David, not to be deterred by the then logistics of one bathroom for six people built his very own bathroom. In his closet. Granted, it was just a large Folgers Coffee can, but since he had the correct anatomy, it worked just fine for him. Until my mom decided that the urine smell was overpowering in his room and decided to get to the bottom of it.

Oh. I'm laughing just thinking about how lovely that discovery must have been!

So. Back to the original story. I put my girls in the South Bedroom, and I gleefully dumped my belongings in MY bedroom. Sadly, my mom has had the audacity to give the furniture to my brother. And my sister Dawn, Queen of Organization, cleaned out the bedroom, so all I have left is one measly pair of Rustler jeans, a few t-shirts, and a nightgown. Oh, and a pair of shorts that came from who knows where, but they are NOT the ratty old, falling apart acid washed cargo shorts that I placed in their 19 years ago! In addition to that, I couldn't find my cheerleading camp indecently short wind shorts!

Oh, the humanity! My family members are obviously lacking in respect for preserving MY bedroom as it was for all time.

*SIGH*

Oh, and that's not all!! When it came time to ride horses with my darling daughter I couldn't even find my two pairs of socks I had left there for riding horses! Granted they were a little on the thin side and they were from the 1990s. But they fit, along with everything else I had left behind in the advent of a wardrobe emergency at my parents! Those socks were the perfect length for boots. I was a little discouraged to have to wear my dad's too big socks when I put on my boots. Now I have to be bothered with actually packing a pair of socks for my boots when I visit my folks.

I swanee. My life is just so complicated.

Alright. So now on with my very important observation. As I dropped my bag on the floor, and pulled my sunglasses off my head and dropped them on the bedside table, I noticed something strange...

Do you see it? Do You? Well, perhaps if you have boys it would not strike you at all as noteworthy. However, I live a life of Liv Dolls and Littlest Pet Shop. I do NOT live a life of shell casings, pellets and Marvel comic books.

And THAT Dear Reader, was the entire point of this completely pointless post!

Aren't you glad you suffered through with me?

Children Obey Your Parents!

2011-09-14T15:31:00.000-05:00

I was really a good child.

Truly.

I just feel the need to state that before I share with you the following, inspired by a post by Freckled Hen.

The year was 1993. At least I think it was 1993. I'm pretty sure it was, because I recall my sister Paula being at my house and I think that was the summer she stayed with my parents before she ran off to Vegas to get married.

Clearly she was a good child too...

So. It was probably 1993. I was 17 years old. It was summer and I was going into my senior year of high school, which I was pretty sure made me the next thing down from Queen of the Universe.

We had recently had rain.

That is relevant. I promise.

I don't know why I was going to town this particular summer night. It might have been to go drag main, or hang out with my then boyfriend who always treated me like doo doo, but I was still going to change him and make him love me by allowing him to treat me bad...You know. Classic teenage stupidity. Only I knew what I was doing. Just ask anyone.

This post is having entirely too many rabbit chases...

As I was leaving, my mom reviewed my curfew rules, and told me "Do not go to the river."

Why did she tell me not go to the river? I had never gone to the river in my life. Unless of course one counts the previous May when all of my senior friends were graduating and my friend Sabra and I crashed their party on graduation night. I had planned a "sleepover" at Sabra's. However, we were going to the party, and THEN to her house. Her mom didn't believe in curfews as she did not want Sabra to have a wreck trying to get home before curfew...

I have no idea why she thought kids might drive fast trying to get home for curfew. After all, I certainly never drag raced my mom's Ford Taurus as I was leaving town.

Every single Saturday.

Like clockwork, 11:43 would roll around. I was supposed to be home by midnight, and considering I lived 26 miles from town, I had to leave by 11:30 if I was going to drive the "55 stay alive" speed limit. However, I could never get all of my socializing done in the allotted time frame.

So I sped.

Just a teeny bit.

I would say, "Oh no! I gotta go or I'm gonna miss curfew." And I would dash through the Jack & Jill parking lot, leap into my car and drive the exact speed limit as I was leaving town. I wouldn't want to get a ticket after all!

As I would leave town and pass the transport road, a group of boys in a pickup would pull up on my rear bumper and flash their lights at me. The boys varied from week to week, but every week I would slow down to oblige them in pulling along side me, ostensibly to let them pass. Then I would PUNCH IT! Did you know that a 1992 Ford Taurus has a governor that tops out at 135 miles per hour? Did you know that the boys who drove old 1970s model pickups had no such governor holding them back? They eventually beat me every time. And they nearly always had a spare boy to moon me out the back window as they blew by me.

Curse that governor.

Okay. That was a big bunny chase. We were talking about what a great kid I was. And that my mom had told me not go to the river.

I pulled into town. I remember it was late afternoon. I have no idea why I was in town in the late afternoon. I do know that I met up with a group of random kids in the high school parking lot. They were all "friends" but most of them were only friends in the sense that all kids in a town with 1200 people and one stop light are friends.

"Hey Ang! (for some reason my classmates called me Ang, or AJ.) Want to go to the river? We're going floating!"

I thought about it for all of two seconds, and I jumped into Jason's pickup and off we went! We parked the cars on the side of the road, pulled out a bunch of blow up floats and hiked our way down to the river. I, of course was looking super cute and had on my nice leather loafers. I carefully tucked my socks into them, shrugged at the soon to be river smelly state of my cute outfit and climbed onto a pink lounge float.

And off we floated!

I don't remember how far we went. I do remember that getting back was a challenge as we did not have shoes. We walked in the sandy river bottom as far as we could, but some places it was too deep to walk, or too rocky, or whatever. Then we would get out and hike along in the reedy grass along the bank.

I hung out in town for a few hours until I was dry enough to get into my mom's nice Taurus and drive home. I remember it wasn't even dark out when I walked in, called "Hi! I'm home!" and headed straight to the bathroom, skillfully avoiding any direct conversation with the parents...

And there was Paula. I immediately began to tug off my clothes and prepared to get in the shower. Naturally, I told her what we had done. Because I am a terrible secret keeper, and she was handy. I told her the worst part was that the crotch of my underwear never did get dry...

I don't remember what she said.

But I'm sure it involved carefully chosen words of wisdom and some eye rolls. Paula always was better at keeping her counsel than I am.

I do remember that the reason we wanted to float the river was because it was actually moving. You see, we had received a heavy rain. I'm not sure if this is the right year, but I think it's the year that we had such heavy rains that I spent a good chunk of the summer helping Dad rebuild fence at all of the creek gaps.

So, we decided to float...Of course, what looks like calm little currents could have been deadly undertows. I know that for a fact as two boys in our area had been floating a similar river in a similar situation and drowned just two years before. Of course, none of that crossed my mind as a teenager. However, I guess Mom must have raised three teenagers or been one herself, because she was suspicious that we may decide to go visit the river after a heavy rain.

Oh, and about the senior graduation party that Sabra and I crashed? Well, it turns out that Dad decided we needed to gather and work cattle first thing the next morning. They called Sabra's mom to tell me to come home. This was before the days of cell phones, so Sabra's mom got in her car and drove up and down Main looking for us.

Only we weren't there.

Then, she drove her car to the bridge over the river and honked her horn and yelled and yelled for us. Only we could not hear her as we were quite a ways down the river, and we had country music blasting from some guy's pickup. She eventually convinced a kid named Eric to pull over and told him to come get me.

Eric was a prankster and came roaring into the camp saying, "Hey Andrea, your dad's looking for you."

I nearly had a heart attack right then and there. After he picked himself up off the ground from laughing at me, he told me the truth. Sabra and I loaded up in her car and headed back to town. When we walked into her house her mom started talking, "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you two. I parked on the bridge and honked and yelled and you never came. Andrea's dad said she has to go home to work cattle. Ohmygoodness you smell like camp fire. Go take a shower before you head home and wash your hair."

And so I did and she nearly had a stroke before I left.

And I came home and went to bed and got up at the crack of dawn to gather and work cattle.

Maybe my parents were more clued in to my activities than I thought.

Oh, and one more thing. I got the "Safe Driver" award my Senior year of high school. I was nominated by Mrs. Mulberry because every time she saw me driving I ALWAYS had on a seat belt. Of course that is totally true! I didn't want to die a horrendous bloody death if I had an accident driving!

This post is entirely too long. I will test whether you made it to the end with a brief Reader Survey:

What kind of kid were you? Were you like me, really good on the surface with a streak of orneriness a mile wide? Were you straight as an arrow with a secretly rebellious heart? Or were you out and out wild and woolly? Do tell!

My Castle Is Complete

2011-09-13T16:43:00.003-05:00

I realize some of you may be new to my blog...Although, since nobody COMMENTS any more, it's hard to tell! And yes, that is a shameless ploy for more comments. Anyway, that is not the point. The point is that if you've been with me since the very beginning, you realize that while my house may in fact look like a typical middle class home, it is in fact a castle. Complete with scullery maid. You can click here to learn all about my fabulous life in a castle.

My Grandmama Dolly passed in January. My mom and her siblings separated her belongings among themselves, and my mom had asked if I wanted anything. "I was always fascinated by those chairs with the lion head and feet." As it turned out, those had already been laid claim to. I philosophically shrugged and said, "never mind. Those chairs were too majestic for my garage sale/hand me down/eclectic house decorations anyway."

Guess what? My mom called me a while back and said the chairs may be coming available again. "I WANT THEM!" I shouted into the phone before she could finish her sentence. You see, my grandparents had a somewhat eclectic decor themselves. From green flocked wallpaper paired with gray paneling, to chairs with lion heads carved into them and velvet bullfighter pictures, they had a little bit of everything. Everything to be found at "ESTATE sales" that is. "ESTATE Sale" is the more elite form of a garage sale. You see, an estate sale apparently occurs when the family of the dearly departed simply cannot decide who gets what, so they have a giant auction and split the profits, or since it's an ESTATE and therefore very hoity toity, I'm sure the profits are donated to charity...

It is obviously nothing like it's low brow counterparts where people actually take the stuff from their dearly departed family member and then have a sale out of their garage and pocket every bit of the cash for themselves.

As you can clearly see, my grandparents only had the most discriminating tastes, and such things as a chair made from steer hide and longhorn horns, would not be found at your average run of the mill garage sales. Such treasures as these could only be found at the very exclusive ESTATE SALE.

Okay, now that I've edified you with my vast knowledge of garage versus ESTATE sales, I will now show you what my darling husband brought home to me after a weekend of dove hunting with his brothers. Carefully duct taped in sheets and blankets to keep their pristine condition, naturally. At first, I was almost certain he brought home the wrong chairs. After all, the chairs of my memory were huge and clearly once belonged in a haunted castle. How or where my Grandpa had the opportunity to visit an ESTATE sale at a haunted castle, I was never completely clear on. However, I was certain that these must surely belong in one!

Now that I'm the very modest age of 35, these chairs have shrunk considerably! They are no longer giant arm chairs where I feel much like Lily Tomlin surely felt in her giant rocker when she played Edith Ann. Instead, they are just perfectly ordinary sized arm chairs, with an unusual black upholstery and lion heads carved in the arms, with claw feet.

Oh, well. I love them. I can still picture their exact spot in the front living room of my Grandmama's house. I will treasure them for that reason, along with my childhood fanciful thoughts.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, my girls found them immediately fanciful. In fact Popcorn said, "Now we can have the scary chairs with the old haunted Raggedy Anne doll sit right here in this corner."

Well, I resent that statement. You see, I had a dear friend make me this doll. She is gifted at making folk art crafts, and when we moved away, she gave me the doll, along with a pillow that is embroidered with "Live in such a way that those who know you but don't know God come to know God because they know you." Isn't that beautiful? Studmuffin, however has refused to allow the doll to sit on our bed. He thinks it looks like a voodoo doll. I scoff and say it's supposed to be folk art. I fear we will never agree on the topic.

Apparently my girls agree.

Dude Looks Like a Layeedeh! Or: What Depths Will I Go To Avoid Housework?

2011-09-12T09:37:00.004-05:00

I got the girls some awesome clip in feathers for their hair...And I decided that my hair was pretty perfect for them. It seemed to bring out the inner rocker in me. I was inspired for a fabulous post, and could hardly contain my excitement. The only drawback was I could not indulge in my typical immediate gratification mindset, as I had to go to the dermatologist to determine that I was right and Studmuffin was wrong, and the mysterious lesions on my right arm and leg were not skin cancer...However, to prove myself right, I had to submit and actually GO to the doctor.

*sigh*

Being me is just so difficult sometimes.

The important thing to focus on is I was right and he was wrong, and although I had to get someone with an actual medical license to prove me right the end result was completely justifiable.

I decided to get mentally prepared for the following post by listening to some Aerosmith on my way to my dermatologist appointment Friday. Because there is nothing like Aerosmith to get yourself in the mood to disrobe for a full body scan at the dermatologist! (In a slightly unrelated note, I was quite exasperated with myself on my underwear choices that day, as I was allowed to leave that on. And that's all I'm going to say about that.)

So, I was driving down the interstate, belting out "Love in an Elevator" when I glanced down and realized I was going 80...Well, I was looking for a trip down memory lane, and I confess to seldom driving below 85 when I was in my late teens and early twenties, but that was a bit much. Even for me. I decided to keep an eye on the speedometer as I rocked out.

Saturday I finally had time to get down to the serious business of a completely irreverent post, where I would undoubtedly embarrass myself. Not as much as my Wonder Woman post, but nonetheless, I am sure there will be some serious eye rolling about this one.

Now, my initial thought was to take a few self portraits, but my children assured me I was not catching the full effect...

We decided to do a full concert/dress rehearsal scene. Following are some photos from the shoot, and live concert I provided complete with edited lyrics so as not to taint my little girls brains with such lyrics as Steven Tyler is wont to perform. Photography is courtesy of Bookworm.

Now, given our supreme likeness, I will refrain from telling you who is who in these photos, but I did include a few snapshots of the ACTUAL Stephen Tyler to give you a better appreciation of my amazing likeness to him.

However, I feel it's only fair that I tell you:

One of these dudes looks like a layeedeh.

And one of us has a big mouth...

Or maybe both of us.

That is still up for debate.

And one of us has not washed their hair in three days, and in fact took it down from it's bun and shook their head and shoved some feathers in it.

But I will refrain from pointing any fingers about which of us may have a questionable hair routine.

Both of us own an abundance of scarves...And both of us have been known to borrow and loan scarves to our daughters.

Truly, truly, the parallels in our lives are just downright uncanny.

What a funky lady!

I understand if you completely wash your hands of me after this post.

But if this does not garner some comments, I don't know what will!

Who Knew?

2011-09-10T08:37:00.012-05:00

Wednesday my kids brought home their achievement test scores. I had been eagerly awaiting them, as it has always been patently obvious to me that my children are nothing short of genius...However it's always nice to have my theories confirmed by an outside party.

I looked through a certain child's bag to find her scores, and found a handful of papers in various pouches and pockets of her bag and zipper binder...

I perused her test scores, not at all surprised to see she scored advanced in most areas. However, I was surprised to peruse her schoolwork scores...

It seems this particular child is too intelligent to be bothered with showing math work. And too incredibly brilliant to go back and check her work. In fact she is so masterfully genius that she has a 74 average in math at this point. I know what her average is because I totalled her homework scores and then divided them by 9, the number of papers she had turned in so far.

Y'know.

Because applying math skills is handy that way.

I called her into the house where her father and I sat her down and discussed her schoolwork...

Side Note: I had to calm her father down before we chatted with her. You see, our schools were both on a seven point system, so 93-100 was an A, 85-92 a B, and 78-84 a C, with 70-77 a D, and below a 70 failing! I pointed out that this school grades on the ten point scale, so thankfully she has a "C" at this point and not a "D." Which was really a good thing, because I thought Studmuffin was going to stroke out when he thought his child had a "D."

"But did you see my test scores?" she asked.

"Yes, I saw your test scores. Achievement test scores don't get you scholarships in college!" At this time her sister walked in the room...

"How are you going to get money for college?" I asked the unsuspecting sister. Fortunately for her, she has listened to my oft drilled in answer.

"I have to make all A's and get scholarships."

"That's right! You have to get academic scholarships. You are both incredibly smart. There is no reason for you to not make straight A's. If you decide to be lazy and not make A's and therefore not get scholarships, you will STILL go to college, but you will go through on student loans. And then you will leave college with a mountain of debt to pay off." I am so loving and gentle, no?

The child with the questionable math grade looked at her father and I and said in all earnestness, "Well, I could also get a scholarship in archery!"

*

!?

*!?%!*

Well, after we picked our jaws up off of the floor, Studmuffin informed her that while that may be possible, there probably aren't a lot of archery scholarships out there, so she better get her act together and keep her grades up.

Archery.

Who knew?

More Pictures of Home

2011-09-09T09:16:00.000-05:00

I had so much to say about the 100+ photos I took at my parents last weekend, I decided to post some of them and share my thoughts. Aren't you excited?

I only have one beef with myself: Why didn't Paula's family do pictures with my family? Then we could prove that we were actually there behind the camera!

Anyhoo, let the dialogue begin...

Popcorn loves cats. And cats love her. So much so that they are willing to go feed calves if it means another minute in her arms. She is seldom without a cat if a cat is within reach.

See what I mean?

Two things about this picture:

1. I rotated it. Why did blogger rotate it back?

2. Is that my daughter in her dad's high school ball cap with a gun over her shoulder and a box of shells in her arms?

3. How did this happen?

Yes. That is three things. I could not control myself.

I love this picture. Minus the dead birds. But I love it. I love that my kids love their cousins and I love it that the dads in this picture are just overgrown children.

Apparently hunting near a farm pond is dirty business. And apparently camo is not at all required to shoot dove when you are near one of the few sources of water in a drought.

See the dove head at Kelsey's nose? Yuck.

Aren't you glad I share all aspects of my life with you?

Why, hello Captain Morgan!

You teatotallers will not understand that comment.

I'm okay with that.

However, I'm not at all sure that is how one spells tea totaller...teetotaler/tea totaler/I really don't know and am too lazy to look it up.

Dead Eye. I love him. I love this picture. He looks so much like his dad. And yet, I can see the resemblance to my brother in him too. He is only 13 and he already passed my 5'8 frame. I think he is going to be huge.

I tagged along one evening hunting. I took pictures and "bird dogged" for Brent.

I lost three birds. I discovered I was a little squeamish if the bird wasn't dead dead DEAD when I had to retrieve it. Ick.

Again: Aren't you glad to know the sordid details of my life?

This not so little lady was not at all sure what we were doing at HER watering hole.

Studmuffin is such a poser. I love him for it.

Well, and because he's my husband and the father of my children and when I was pregnant he never let me scrub the tub as the fumes were bad for the baby and why did I ever start scrubbing it again???

Oklahoma is famous for sunrise and sunset. Yet, I can never seem to capture the full beauty of it.

I think part of the beauty is the vast open spaces with flat land all around.

Anyway that's my theory.

See that bunch of trees? They are one mile southeast of us.

Those trees were planted by my parents forty years ago.

They have lived in that very spot for forty five years.

I think. The details are sketchy as I wasn't alive when they built that house.

But Dawn was.

She is oooooooolllld.

And she is dragging me along behind her.

She better fix whatever ails her before I get there. She has twelve years to figure it out, and I'm counting on her.

Another photo that I rotated and blogger flipped back.

Studmuffin and Dead Eye with the second day's kill.

How gruesome is this picture?

I must really love my husband.

Oh, and he pointed out he still has few inches on Dead Eye.

For now.

About Those Coupons...

2011-09-08T10:46:00.000-05:00

Yes. I'm still couponing. I did pretty well this week, and since someone asked me if I was still at it, I thought I'd give you a little glimpse of what I buy!

Color you excited!

Two things you should disregard about this photo:
1. It is out of focus. I ain't no professional y'all, and I was shooting this double quick before my ice cream melted!
2. I need to really clean off my kitchen cabinets in the background before taking pictures of my bargains. It lends the strange idea that I may not be all that is neat and organized....Which is probably true, but I don't need to be propagating the theory!

So, there's the photo, and I will list the most exciting parts of it.

Because a: I need to make a list of housework to be done, but who wants to do housework?
b: I love lists!

1. The eggs: They were FREE with the purchase of two packages of Borden cheese, which was only $1.74.
2. The two cans of biscuits were only $.18!!! Woot! Woot!
3. I could live off of peanut butter, and that jar was fuh-REEE!
4. Just this morning I found a recipe for pulled pork when I was clipping coupons, and guess what? I got that pork tenderloin for only $2.49! I have all of the other ingredients to make it in my crock pot, and they were all free!
5. See that Nutella? I got it for a measly buck! They were sold out last week when they were on sale, but I asked for a rain check and he gave me three. So, next week I will get another Nutella, then the week after that another! Because they were on sale for $3, and I have three different dollar off coupons, but the store only doubles the coupon once and only lets you purchase one per day...Sadness. Anyway, I will just carry my little rain check in with me over the next two weeks and have a total of three Nutellas for three dollars! Yum!
6. My total bill for the day was $45.96 after taxes, and that was a savings of $21.65 with coupons, then an additional $33.91 saved counting the sale prices...Of course, you realize I feel the sale prices mean it was probably overpriced anyway, but it's pretty exciting to think I saved fifty seven percent off my bill!

Now, you may consider your day complete, but first answer me one question:
What's your favorite way to save money?