Technically, It's Still Touching, Right?

The Man and I have a long-standing agreement that if my hair does not touch my shoulders, he is allowed to shave his head. He doesn't like me with short hair, and I don't like him bald. Those two trains crashed back in the day:

I started it with this:



He countered with this:



I let my hair grow out over the years and The Man went back to growing it to ridiculously bad lengths before getting it barbered. My hair worked for me because I could scrape it all back into a ponytail if I wanted.

However, for the past six months or so, I haven't wanted. I've been styling this long hair every two days, spending at least 20 minutes with my giant-barreled round brush. Today I decided that I need a cooler 'do, one that will help me survive a Texeas summer. I also decided that if I am going to continue to style my hair each day, I might as well have less of it to style. I also also decided that since my hairstylist shares my name, I could trust her to do something new with my hair.

Here's what my hair looked like at Christmas, which is the last known photo taken of me, and my hair has grown an inch at least since then:




Here's my wild and crazy new 'do:





I KNOW. It's hard to believe one can look so DRAMATICALLY different. Sigh. It's basically the same style I had before, only three inches shorter. I actually love it because it's so much lighter, and it's going to be so much easier to style.

However. Is it actually touching my shoulders? If I keep tilting my head that way, it totally will be, but I'm not sure how long I can keep that up. Just remember, your opinion is crucial to The Man's follicular future.

Wordless Wednesday: circa 2005

(This still counts as wordless because these are not MY words. This is from The Man's blog back in 2005)

Fun New Game!

Both parents were out in the living/dining area tonight, while the girls were playing in their room. They were obviously having a lot of fun together, and we were happy to hear such joy. Boodle comes running out to converse with parents.
Boodle: "We're playing a fun game!"
Parents: "That's great, sweetie."
Boodle: "Yeah. We take napkins, and put them in water, then throw them on the wall."
Parents: ???!?!?
(pause)
The Man: "Um. Is this a lot of napkins, or only a few?"
(pause)
Boodle: "Well....there's still some left."
(Boodle runs back into room)
Parents follow to investigate. Find the above documented scene.

Fashion Tuesday, Dawg

Because nobody is wearing anything crazy this week, I've rooted around in old photos and come up with this one of Boodle, circa 2004. The backwards cap and cheeky wink completely encapsulate her personality. The Barbie overalls were hand-me-downs from family friends and she LOVED them because they came from her big "cousin".

Enjoy.

Cherished Childhood Memory

I was reading Big Mama's blog and she mentioned that her daughter asked her to regale her with a childhood story. It reminded me of the girls' FAVORITE story from my own childhood.

I was five. My father was attempting to teach me to ride my bike. I got frustrated. I proceeded to pick up the bike and THROW IT AT HIM. My memory ends with him chasing me in front of the house, and it's probably best that I blocked the rest of it out.

Warms the heart.

Maybe it has become clear to you now where my girls get this from:

Another Good Mother Award

Here's what you get when you allow your seven year old to make her own breakfast (to her credit, she had to be careful after the procedure last week, so notice the general softness of all things chosen):



The blue triangle thing is "Wee Brie", because who doesn't start their morning off with processed cheese food? And hello? She's being all healthy with "Light" lemonade fruit drink and sugar free Jello. Does a mama proud.

The two things I did after she arranged her selections:

1. Dove for my camera instead of directing her to more nutritious fare.
2. Suggested that she needed protein, to which she replied with the bologna.

Well played.

Oh No, You're In For It Now

The Man finally hooked up our defunct computer so that I could transfer over old pictures and video snippets I took with the other digital camera.

I've spent the past four hours going through everything, laughing, crying and remembering what it was like for my girls to be little. Just for the record, still no pangs.

Now you're going to be stuck looking at this stuff for the next month or so because I'm so happy to see it all again. Here's a sneak preview:



This is Loodle, I don't know what age, in the dining room of our house in California. Water and zerberts on a high chair tray. Does it get any better? I submit that it does NOT.

(This is my first attempt to add video to my blog, so let me know if something is hinky)

I Used to Love Purple

But not when you see it on this map:




You also don't want to see the orange light on your storm warning device. Probably you should be alerted by an alarm first, but after twice being woken up in the dead of night with flood warnings, when we are about as far away from flood endangered as you can get, we turned the alarm off. Oh, um, thanks for the housewarming gift, cousins!!

We've had lightning and thunder for the past hour SOLID. We just made it through some hail. Nothing says Happy "Moving to Texas" Anniversary like a repeat of the welcome we got last year. I just went to go link to the previous post I did on that, and it doesn't exist. I must have dreamed it. Oh well.

Last year? In April? There was, like, all this thunder? And then some LOUD lightning. It was awesome.

And now, in April THIS year? It's doing it again. It's almost like it happens around this time of year EVERY year. Weird.

The One Where She Posts About Teeth

I'm giving you fair warning. I'm going to be talking about a week full of dentist/orthodontist visits. If you get freaked out about this topic (Hi good friend W in California-although she probably bolted just from the title), then please go to this website and laugh at funny pictures of animals.

I'll wait, go ahead and click over.

Are they gone? Is anyone LEFT? Oh, hi, and aren't YOU brave!

On Monday night, Boodle complained of tooth pain. I checked her mouth and found a big blister like thing on her gum. It was directly above and between two of her teeth. These teeth are involved with the expander appliance she has affixed into her mouth.

One sleepless night and much Motrin later, we were told by the dentist that her two teeth were abcessed and needed to be removed.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway, I did not take the news well. I know, I KNOW, it's all about me, really. With all she's been going through at school, and the fact that she's been dealing with this giant expander in her mouth that forced her to give up precious silky, I was just distraught at the idea of her having to go through MORE drama.

I spoke to The Man, and by spoke I mean, I sobbed through a semi-coherent conversation about what needed to be done. Talked to a friend in California, and by talked I mean, I cried through that conversation as well.

Feeling better, I dealt with children home with nothing to do and calls to be made to set up procedures. The orthodontist needed to be consulted regarding replacing the expander, since it has to be removed before the teeth can be extracted. Have to call the school and figure out what to do with Boodle regarding homework for the week since she was going to be out of class due to abcess pain and then teeth removal.

That night at dinner, after having sorted through things and gotten to a happy place, The Man gets all up in arms about how quickly this came upon Boodle, and why didn't they catch this at her checkup at the beginning of April, and are we dealing with a bunch of incompetents or what?

My initial reaction was to feel defensive and ill at ease with this line of questioning. Why? He's voicing some valid concerns. Why wasn't I more concerned with whether or not we were getting the best care for her? As usual, I was feeling guilty because I had chosen this dentist (upon several high recommendations from our playgroup), I hadn't said anything when they did no xrays at her last appointment, even though they assured me they only needed them once a year. I'm the one RESPONSIBLE for getting her into this disaster. It's my FAULT.

See, it's STILL about me.

So, after getting OVER MYSELF, I made calls the next day and got her in to see another dentist for a second opinion. After seeing both that new dentist and the orthodontist, we were reassured that because she had a crown already on one of the teeth and a filling in the other, detecting the problem before she starting having pain would have been difficult at best. The only thing we might have done differently was to have those xrays every 6 months, but even then, they might not have been able to see what was going on because of the crown and all the expander metal in the way.

Relating all of this to The Man at dinner last night, I come to find out that his concern was based on the assumption that these were her grown up teeth that they were having to remove. Oh, didn't I mention that these are her baby teeth we're talking about? Apparently, I didn't mention it to him either. I assumed he knew which ones were baby ones and which ones were permanent, but that was severely overestimating his interest in her dental goings on.

So, two of her teeth that were going to fall out soon got removed today, and she gets to spend at least a week without her expander or any other appliance. Chewing gum, here she comes.

Maybe tomorrow I'll post about all the hilarious things she does under the influence of sedatives. I promise there is no pain involved. They just get really emotional as they are coming down, almost like they're drunk. It's SO WRONG to laugh at your daughter, who has just gone through tooth extraction, when she is sobbing the words to "Frosty the Snowman". Really, really wrong. And yet SO funny.

Awesome Mom

THIS is what you get for being on the phone during an entire trip to the video store. Apparently I agreed to this movie. I blame my mother in law, to whom I was speaking whilst paying cash money for Trollz the Movie.

Wordless Wednesday: How to Lose Your Allowance in One Easy Letter

Because she's older, Boodle will also lose her college tuition for this one.

Can I just remind you of what Loodle did to my van last month?

Maybe they're trying out a secret code.

Fashion Tuesday

She's BACK! And stronger than ever, might I say.

Check this out:

Is it, winter? Is it spring? There's no need to decide. It's ALL there in the snowflake leggings and flower socks. Just to kick it up a notch, she's topped them off with a plaid-skirted dress and shoes with a silver star on them. All that's missing was the shiny brown jacket, but it was a bit too warm for that.

That would have been sooooooo sweet.

Doin' Our Part to Help the Environment

So the BD household is ALL ABOUT helping the environment.

We recycle all the paper plates and plastic utensils we use on a daily basis.

The pesticides we use on our lawn are manufactured in China, where we KNOW they're providing people with jobs.

We ALWAYS cut the rings on our 6-packs open before we throw them into the lake.

Bypassing the emissions system on our old car really helped give our engine more low end torque, so when we're off-roading near the wildlife sanctuaries, we've got much more control to weave between the Snowy Plover nests.

So you can see that we're givers. As a concrete example, I give you our front porch furniture:


I really think it adds something to the look of our home. It says: "We're trashy. Welcome."

How does this help the environment, you ask? Well, the chair didn't start out with the fabric covering half torn off. This card table chair's fabric, which does not belong on a west facing porch in Texas during the heat of summer, got nice and crispy over the past year. And you know who REALLY enjoys that? Birds.

I've noticed over the last couple of weeks that the chair was getting dramatically rattier. One morning I was pulling out of the driveway and happened to glance over and see a bird sitting on the chair. He looked around and looked around and looked around. Then he proceed to yank and pull and tug a bunch of fabric threads out of it and fly off, where I assume he's using it to fashion quite the trendy nest for his woman.

Next I assume I will see a family of mice scaling the chair legs and absconding with tufts of foam.

See? Environmentally FRIENDLY.

If I Were Truly Superstitious...

...I would be really up in arms about this story. Why would you put out an article about the oldest lady in the world turning 115 years old IN TWO DAYS? Talk about jinxing it. Not that I believe in that.

I was sharing this story with The Man and voicing my mock outrage when he related a story he'd read online. It was a story about a guest dying on Dick Cavett's show. The guest was the publisher of Today's Health Magazine, and had just finished his segment, where he boasted that he'd never felt healthier in his life. He moved down to the edge of the couch for the next guest, and passed away a few moments later.

I don't really know why I'm relating this, only it was such a weird thing to have happened, especially right after the comments he made. I actually don't believe in jinxing yourself, but that's just an extraordinary coincidence.

Some things I think/do that defy my supposed disbelief:

- Refusing to turn the calendar pages a day early, even if it's just before midnight.
- When I wash my car, I believe it will rain soon, no matter what the forecast says.
- As soon as I THINK about getting a manicure, within the next few hours I will badly break a nail.
- If I tell a few people how lucky we've been to not get sick this season, I am GUARANTEEING that I will get sick VERY soon.
- Count my chickens before they hatch.

Just kidding on the last one. But I KNOW rationally that nothing bad will happen if I tear off April right this second and stare at May for the next week and a half.

I KNOW I have no power over rain clouds.

I KNOW I break nails whether I'm thinking about a manicure or a ham sandwich.

I KNOW that talking about not getting sick doesn't actually get you sick, but I still struggle with that one, because DAMN. I was all cocky in California a few weeks ago when I was hearing my friends' battles with the plague, and now look at us. One ear infection and one cranky, sick mama.

Maybe I'll ditch the rest and just NEVER speak of good health again.

Mmmm, ham sandwich.

This Is All HER Fault

Is it wrong to resent your five year old for getting you sick? Probably.

Is it wrong to be mad that you had to miss YOUR hair appointment (where the stylist spends five minutes massaging your scalp and telling you how great you look) in order to go to HER doctor appointment, where you had to view a giant, disgusting ball of ear wax? Um, yeah, that's selfish.

Is it wrong that you pawned your five year old off on the neighbor's nanny for 5 hours and napped all day (over that five year old's strong objections even when you declared you would not play with her, let her watch TV, or entertain her in any way, shape or form because you felt like crap)?

That last one would be a resounding HELL no.

If Only I Knew Some Karate

17

Medical Updates

Loodle: ear infection, in the form of a giant blister on her eardrum. Ew. Much pain and giant earwax removals later, she's ensconced on the couch watching Pocahontas, flying high on Amoxicillin and Motrin.

Boodle: expander has worked perfectly and her bite is now nice and wide. On a side note, as we were stepping out the door to pick up Loodle's prescriptions, she grabbed a snack. I couldn't tell what it was, and when asked, she showed me a chunk of brie. You know, the cheese. We really stayed in California too long.

The Man: he's dropped a bunch of weight in the several weeks he's been on the caveman diet and looks really fit blah blah blah. Ass.

Me: doctor called to update me on the heart monitor and blood work results. Yes, my heart has been randomly skipping beats, but it is apparently a normal occurrence and nothing to become alarmed about. My blood work was normal except for my calcium levels were low. So now I'm a Citracal Gal!

Honestly, I feel like I'm about 70 years old taking these supplements. Every time I hear Dr. Laura shilling for Citracal I picture myself chilling with the old ladies playing bridge and comparing our Life Alert pendants. Welcome to my late 30's.

Who's The Man

Recently, I had a discussion with a friend regarding the large amount of stuff I have to put up with in order to stay married to The Man. I can't remember the context, beyond bitching about some incident which at the time was aggravating but now is completely forgotten.

As I was cleaning up the kitchen today, I thought about that conversation some more. I was cleaning up the stove, which was crusted with all manner of detritus from myriad meals The Man has cooked over the last week or two. He's currently on a weird, caveman-like diet where he only eats meat, veggies and fruit. I am NOT on this diet as I am too much in love with starches, so he's left to cook up a bunch of stuff on his own.

So I was scrubbing the stove, waiting for him to walk in and see me doing this and apologize and fall at my feet in adoration at the sacrifices I make for him (that would have been sweet, but laughably unlikely), and I started thinking about the many things that he does that irritate the fire out of me. I could write many, many pages outlining each and every one. FRONT AND BACK.

Right then, all I could think was, why didn't you call and tell me you were working late, and why can't you wipe down the stove after you cook, and could you maybe wash a dish or two after you make all this mess, and didn't you walk right by that bag of trash this morning that I took out of the can and for the love of all things holy when are you going to look at the sprinkler system that I've been asking about for the past 4 weeks now?

Then.

Then, I started thinking about how I didn't have to cook all those special meals for him. He happily has done that for himself and enjoyed doing it. I remembered that he went with us to a restaurant for dinner the other day that wasn't his favorite and wasn't particularly good for the new diet, and he didn't complain at all.

I remembered that I got behind on laundry recently and he ran out of socks, and instead of hounding me about it, he merely turned his socks inside out and gave me an extra day to catch up.

And you know what? He goes into work every day, past that trash bag, and works hard so that I can stay home with our girls, and he's done that for the past 8 years now. When we went through our budget recently, he didn't yell and rant about the amount of money I've been spending, just talked about areas where WE could improve, not just me.

I thought about how each and every day he comes home and plays with the girls. How in the morning for the past few weeks, he's been teaching Loodle to play chess, and she can't wait for that time with him. I thought about how three mornings during the week, he gets up with Boodle, makes her breakfast, packs her school lunch and drops her off on his way to work, when he could have slept in and had me do it. And last night we went through an evaluation form for diagnosing Boodle's difficulties at school, and he was genuinely concerned for her and answered all the questions when he could simply have put it all off on me to do.

And I remembered how last week, when I needed to go to California and check on my mom, he never hesitated to take two days off of work and watch both girls for four days. FOUR DAYS. All by himself. No complaints, no guilt trip. Just unconditional support. And love.

I remembered that he loves me and that he puts up with just as much crap from me on a daily basis.

These are things I will think about next time I have to pick up dirty clothes that are 4 1/2 inches away from the laundry baskets.

(Baby steps.)

Wordless Wednesday: Flying High

(This did not end well. I encouraged her to do a cartwheel in from the side, overestimating how much she's learned in gymnastics thus far.)

Fashion Tuesday: I Should Have Known

I was just going through some old photos of the kids, and came across these photos of Boodle. I used to buy her sweats, shorts, and tshirts to wear. I should have known it wouldn't last. The road to becoming a girly girl begins with but a single step. I think I read that somewhere.

Here's the outfit I picked out for her to wear to the zoo.



Here she is in sweats and a shirt, but now she's got pigtails, the beginning of "the change".


Oh, no. Here come the jewels.



And what good are jewels without any makeup?


(I had completely forgotten that I'd captured this misadventure on film/disk. This tube of cream blush was BRAND NEW.)

And finally, the whole girly girl phenomenon has completely taken over.



Wait until I'm brave enough to post photos of the silver "high" heeled sandals I reluctantly bought for her last month. They are scandalous. Might as well change her middle name to Bratz.

A Birthday Remembered

I am named after my grandmother. She lived in the same town that I grew up in, and I saw her every week.

She was married twice, and ended up spending the last 41 years of her life with her boyfriend, Grandpa Frank. How I delighted in introducing people to my grandmother's boyfriend. They kept separate houses throughout, which she credited with keeping their relationship going all those years. I never, never asked them about sleepovers.

She always made blueberry muffins as a side dish when we came over for dinner, no matter what she was serving. Her Swiss Steak is still one of my favorite memories of childhood. Her cherry zucchini cake that she made once for my birthday is not.

She scoured garage sales for clothes to give to me, sometimes with questionable results. One time she made a vest for me that I loved, and another time she snuck a one piece jumper that I dearly (and, in hindsight, foolishly) loved out of my room and made me another one in a different color for my birthday. She also made me a couple of ponchos that seriously resembled a round tablecloth with a hole cut out of the middle. God bless her.

One year for Christmas she gave my parents, brother and I each bowling balls she'd found at a garage sale, and her boyfriend took us up onto the military base to have holes drilled to fit our hands. I still have my ball. The name inscribed on it: Herta.

She was always so interested in my life, whatever stage I was in. She asked about my friends, about school, even about what I thought about politics during high school when that was the furthest thing from my mind. Her questions made me THINK.

She was such a strong woman. She was strong enough to go back to school at the age of 50 to get her masters and become a marriage and family counselor. She was strong enough to volunteer at the battered women's shelter and ease the pain of others. She was strong enough to tell my then alcoholic father "no" when he called to ask her to save him again, and that was the catalyst for him calling Alcoholics Anonymous. He was sober almost 30 years before he died, and she was there for his last "birthday" celebration.

I hope that I have a tiny bit of her strength and character.

Today would have been her 92nd birthday. She passed away a year ago last March, after suffering from dementia for several years. She still knew me when I visited her, but she was fading. She died while I was on my way up to see her and the rest of my family in Hometown, California right before I moved to Texas. It was such a shock, even at her age. One day, planning to go visit her. The next day, kissing her forehead and saying goodbye.






I miss her, and am honored to carry her name.

You Can Take the Girl Out of California...

Loodle was feeling under the weather today, and after a rejuvenating nap, asked for peanut butter toast fingers. In her 5 years of living, THAT is the ultimate comfort food.

After consuming those, she said she was still hungry. I asked what she wanted next.

Loodle: Tofu.
Me: Tofu?
Loodle: Yes, tofu.
Me: You want just some cold tofu, or do you want me to cook it with something?
Loodle: No, just cold.

So I diced up some tofu and she scarfed it down.

Is it me, or does that just scream pretentious Californian? Do other people in Texas belly up to a plate of diced cold tofu on a regular basis?

Ummm, Don't Repeat That

Something Loodle said today that makes perfect sense to me, but requires hasty explanation when in mixed company:

Loodle: "Boodle, don't lick my popper. Do NOT lick my popper! You can lick your own popper, but not mine!"

(For the record, a popper is one of those half-sphere toys that you turn inside out, place on a hard surface and let go, and it slowly inverts until it pops up into the air. Why ANYONE was licking one defies all explanation.)

Not Even One Little Twinge

Tonight was Bunco night, and a good friend came with her one month old baby. Everyone was oohing and aahing over her little bundle. One mom snuggled with the baby near the end and asked me, "Don't you just love this age? Isn't this the best feeling?"

Um, no. Not even one little bit. I feel not even a shred of yearning for a baby. I actually felt a little, not repulsed because that's just bizarre, but uneasy that the mom would ask me if I wanted to hold her baby.

I am so far past being done with having a baby that I can't stomach holding one. What is that all about? Something must seriously be wrong with me. Who does that?

Here's my theory. Without going into too much detail, I have been dealing with health issues with my mom, and I have been feeling overwhelmed with the idea of possibly having to take over her care. She's only 63, and thank God is improving so much that this will not happen for a while. Still, the thought of taking over care for someone when I am on the precipice of a little independence (HELLOOOOO Kindergarten!) has me shaking.

And running screaming from tiny babies.

However, the rest of our conversation had me admitting that I missed the age that follows the tiny helpless infant stage. I LOVED the 9 month to 15 month range, where they are learning to walk, talk, discover their world on their own, but were still unable to tell me how stupid I am for making them clean their rooms. I love the drunken sailor walking, the absurd words they use when trying to pronounce things for the first time (Boodle's favorites: "nook" for milk, "umbumba" for balloon, and "nya nya" for again), and their sheer delight in all things silly.

THAT'S what I miss. But not that much. What I don't miss is sleep because currently, I'm getting my fair share and a few other people's as well.

Oh, and I REALLY don't miss diapers.

Fashion Fiesta

BigMama is hosting the first annual Fashion Fiesta, wherein you reveal your everyday fashion of choice, and what fashion you would choose after Ed McMahon shows up at your door and sees you in said everyday garb.

So, here are my awesome fashunz in all their glory:

Here is what I wear when I'm feeling casual:


Here is what I wear when I'm trying to look dressy:


Here's what I wear when I'm all bloaty and cranky:


Here's what I wear when I'm feeling all sexy and hot:


Are picking up what I'm laying down? I have a closet full of jeans in every shade of blue denim. I wear them all the livelong day and that will never change. My lovely friend Wendifer came out and helped me purchase a few dresses and skirts last fall, and I am ashamed to admit I've only worn them to church and to a fancy dinner out with the girls. A simple skirt is FANCY to me. Give me denim or give me death.

As for tops, when it's hot, I wear these:

God bless Old Navy for last year's long fitted shirt trend. All us tall, long-torsoed gals wept with joy, and stocked up for the next five years.


When it's cold, I layer the above tanks with these:


And when I'm fancy, but not in the mood for a skirt, I wear my beloved jeans with one of these:


I have no earthly idea what I will do when I need to be fancy AND warm, because that item of clothing does not exist in my closet.

Finally, for my feet, I wear a pair of these:


Yes, flip flops ARE fancy shoes, thank you very much.

So, that's my sordid closet secret. I am a casual gal through and through. As for what I would buy with Ed McMahon's big check? I'm thinking... well, we all know what I'm thinking, but I'd need to use some of that money to build more shelves in my closet to store them.

What My Dresser Says About Me

I read this post on All Adither, and decided to bare my soul and show what the top of my dresser looks like.

I'm taking a deep breath. If you knew me, you would be unable to reconcile this mess with my usual state of mind.

I can't tolerate clutter. I go a few days with the girls' stuff strewn around the house, and then I pull a nutty. I storm around, yelling and issuing ridiculous ultimatums to get things picked up. Then I can finally relax and breathe in my own home. It helps that the girls are now cowering in their rooms in fear, but at least it's CLEAN in there.

So one wonders how I can stand to see this for longer than a minute. I will say in my defense that I recently took a flight out to California which necessitated dumping out most of the contents of my purse, and since I've been back, I've been dealing with the book of Revelations and cardiac arrest.

Anyway, here it is:


This is it in all it's glory. The pictures on the wall were in my Grandmother's house, and I love having them on my walls, even if they make the room not at all girly.


This shows the bone of contention between The Man and I. I wanted a TV in our bedroom, he did not. Since I order the cable and do the shopping, I won by default. Ha ha. I love to lay in bed at night and watch TV with the sound muted and the captions on. I don't know why, but it relaxes me enough to fall asleep. And if that doesn't give you an idea of the level of romance that goes on here, the selection of movies should tip you off: Garden State, The Holiday, and Titanic.


This pile basically represents what I dumped out of my purse. I would like to state for the record that the hot pink scrunchy, Icing makeup and Tinkerbell lip gloss are NOT MINE.


This part of the dresser has pretty much become an homage to my mother in law. I don't know how this happened. The white over the door hanger? Part of her housewarming gift to us that I haven't hung up yet. The Asian boxes containing chopsticks and rests? Also from her. The Fiesta magazine? From the trip we took to San Antonio while she was here during spring break. The picture underneath the hanger thingy? Yeah, it's a picture of HER. Hi, mother in law! Enjoy your shrine!

Just a note: She would have nothing to do with the poker chips from Hollywood Park Casino. Or the dust that covers every surface. That's all me.

So, what's on your dresser?

Wired for Sound

"Word of mouth is the counselor
There is no need to prove
In a world that's wired for sound"

Anyone besides my sister in law know the song? 1980's contemporary Christian dude? Probably not, and it has absolutely nothing to do with this post except I wrote the title and suddenly remembered listening to that song with her in high school, and now I miss her even though I just saw her last Sunday and MAN I'm running on.

ANYWAY, I went back to the doctor today to take care of that pesky potential heart failure. I'm pretty sure she said something about it being pretty common and not that big a deal, but all I heard was cardiac monitor, and the palpitations began, PROVING something dire is wrong with my heart. Or not.

So here's what it looks like:


I'm pretty sure she also said it adds ten pounds to any photograph taken with it on, just so you know.

It's got six leads that are randomly placed around my chest, and NO I didn't take pictures of THAT. The bothersome thing is that the screen shows absolutely nothing besides the date and time, and I am dying to see some data on what my heart's doing. Of course, since I've put it on, I've felt none of the weird skipped beats that they're looking for, so it could all be for naught.

EXCEPT, Loodle is delighting in the fact that she gets to rip all the leads off for me tomorrow at noon, so if you hear six painful yelps wherever you're at, that's me.

Wordless Wednesday: What Happens When Mom Goes Out of Town for Four Days

Note: That is not The Man, as I would NEVER let him buy a motorcycle. You hear me????!!???

Fashion Tuesday: Now With Gloves!

"Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!"

Godfather III? Anyone? Okay, just me.

So Loodle has been dressing, um, shall we say, NORMAL lately. Hence the demise of Fashion Tuesday. I heard from scores two of you that you would miss it.

Well, fret no more because lo and behold, along comes a trip to the bounce house place, and what's a little bouncin' without a few sequins



and some fingerless gloves?



I SWEAR to you, I do not solicit these poses. I simply say, "Hey, can I take your picture?", and suddenly she's WORKING it. Also for the record, I didn't realize how floozy-ish this dress would turn out to be until I got it home and she tried it on. She wore it to church one Sunday with no leggings or tights, and I realized how close we were getting to changing her middle name to Bratz, so we've toned it down with leggings. Barely.

And yes, ALL THE WALLS of the bounce house place are THAT shade of green. Combined with her dress and leggings and gloves, I came home with quite a headache.

God bless the return of true fashion to the BD household.

Wordless Wednesday: Please Pray For Them

Nathan, Tricia and Gwyneth

I Survived a Shot Without Your Stupid Unicorn

That's what I would have said to Loodle if I'd had this appointment YESTERDAY.

I went to the doctor today to get a yearly physical. Not THAT kind, but the "I'm growing old and what's with that weird thing my heart does that feels like it's skipping a beat, and should I get a colonoscopy yet" kind of checkup.

Turns out I'm fine, save a few minor details.

Must go to the dermatologist to determine if a mole on my back is acceptable. I don't have a clue what she's talking about because I can't SEE back there and don't you think The Man should be in charge of watching for these things? Why else am I married to someone if not for that service?

Must go get a blood test, which involves fasting overnight. Dammit. I have a problem with low blood sugar, and requiring me to not eat breakfast or drink anything in the morning before going to have blood drawn is going to be lovely.

That pesky heart palpitation thing is diagnosed as PVC's and is mostly harmless, except she wants to put me on a 24 heart monitor to make sure. That's not at all alarming. She then did a baseline ECG which Loodle thought was totally cool. Mom's hooked up to electrodes. How much you gonna juice her with, doc?

So, except for those things, I'm just a normal 36 year old old old old. I told The Man that I thought she forgot to carry a one when she calculated my BMI, because I can't be within normal range. I've needed to lose 20 pounds for a while, and even managed to work off 10 of them last year. Then my training sessions ran out. They I went on a cruise to Mexico for Thanksgiving. Then I ate the planet. Dipped in Ranch dressing.

Finally, I was told that I should get my tetanus shot updated, since I last had mine, um, never? I don't think I've ever had one, so I got a shot, and Loodle was their to witness it. I was forced to take her with me because I put off asking anyone to watch her until it was too late. She brought along her stuffed unicorn, and I asked if I could hug it while I got my shot, thinking she would commiserate with me about the pain and help console me.

Yeah, right. She left me high and dry, turned her back on me and clutched her unicorn for dear life. Traitor. I should have cried like a baby and screamed when I got the shot just to freak her out.

That's not funny. I would never DO that. I would THINK it, though.

My Afternoon and Evening. Sucked.

**Warning: This is a LONG POST. Because I MADE it that way.



It's probably because Aunt Flo is coming. Sorry male readers, it HAPPENS. My day sucked from about 3pm on. What happens around 3pm? Boodle comes home from school. SHE did not cause my day to suck. BOTH of my children, AND Aunt Flo, they drove me to want to beat things with my head.

My day started out great with me and Loodle going to Main Event to bowl and play mini golf. Ended our outing at McDonald's because did I mention Aunt Flo and her obsession with salty snacks? Don't worry, once she's here, she switches to sugary snacks, which is great when you're hypoglycemic and can't eat sugar.

Anyway, I should back up a little and mention that Loodle sprayed something bizarre in her hair before we left, and after much hemming and hawing, I discovered it was air freshener from the front bathroom. Cause she's a GENIUS. I brushed through it and admonished her and we went on our merry way.

Fast forward to this afternoon when I see her come out of the bathroom with her head practically dripping. She's done it again. I throw her in the shower, and hear a faraway voice talking about how I need to clean the bathroom sink because there was nail polish on it. This is the girls' sink and it's had that there since we moved in practically, so I think nothing of it.

Next comes the fighting. "She took my crown." "She said I'm a crybaby." "She won't leave me alone." "She won't play with me."

I finally tell Boodle to just use the coin trick when Loodle has locked the bedroom door. She unlocks it, goes in to apologize and give Loodle a hug, and gets kicked by Loodle. People are on time out. People NOT on time out won't leave the timeout people alone.

People invade my office and start slamming doors. I order people out of my office and tell them to separate, and much boo hooing ensues. I attempt to get dinner started, and ask the girls to clean up the living room, then the dining room. Much boo hooing, followed by a fair amount of yelling by me. Loodle storms off after announcing that she will not come back until Boodle and I change our attitudes. Snort. Well, that's gonna happen around half past kiss my ASS, so see ya at dinner.

I'm attempting to get my chicken dinner in the oven when I'm handed the following note:



After deciding that she was not speaking to someone named Chang but was STILL telling me my attitude needed adjustment, I silently chuckled and thought what great blog fodder this will be if I don't end up killing them tonight. Relax, I would never DO that.

So I STILL have a disaster dining room and now The Man is home and has started a pillow war in the living room. Still no table set, and now it's getting unbearably loud. The girls request to view the play that Boodle's second grade class did last week, so I set up the camera with the TV.

Timer on chicken finally dings, and I go to pull it out of the oven.

Huh. It's Lemon, Rosemary and Garlic Chicken. It looks... different. See for yourself.




What are those neon blue/green bits in there? I don't remember adding gummy bites. It seems to be the garlic. That has turned neon blue/green. In my chicken dish. Screw it. We're eating it AND the zucchini that I cooked in WAY too much oil. At least the rice was edible. (Come to find out that sometimes an acid will turn garlic this color if it wasn't fully ready to be harvested or something like that. Who knew. Now you do.)

I start bitching about how we need to set the table and eat, after I JUST started the video for them. I finally start doing it MYSELF, and THEN people come over and I feel like MORE of a passive agressive bitch.

After a dinner that the kids would not touch, they are sent off to get ready for bed, and much drama ensues after the discovery of a spider in their sink. Loodle washes it down the drain, twice, and then they argue their way into bed.

It is then discovered that the nail polish that I sort of heard about before is ACTUALLY an entire bottle spilled on their stark white counter. Off go four MORE of Loodle's hard earned dollars. I then look into the guest room and see that it was invaded and destroyed by kids. I can't take it. I walk away.

I go in to tuck them in and am met with a disaster bedroom, a glimpse of a messy playroom, two mattresses that were removed from their beds over the weekend so we could put up the bunk beds again and the mattresses are STILL IN MY HOUSE oh my god just get me out of here, and see that one of the slats to the upper bunk bed is pulled down and there are balls of modeling clay shoved on top. I walk away (again) and let The Man deal with it, and then he comes out to show me the bedtime CD that they listen to EVERY night has been written on in pen, and later am told by Loodle that she LOVED that CD but she was just so mad.

I had to laugh. If only I could take my frustrations out that way and then be perfectly content. It would make our lives so much easier.

So, kids finally fell asleep. I laid on the couch like a cow and did half of my bible study, and then watched The Italian Job and ate No Sugar Added Cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory. And told Aunt Flo to BRING IT.