Just Because...

I was reading about healthy ways to cook quinoa and found this in the comment section:

Comment #1: I make a pot of it at the beginning of the week and eat it for breakfast throughout the week...topped with almond milk, unsweetened shredded coconut, and raisins, zap in the microwave...it's AMAZING!

#2 microwaving food kills the enzymes in the food [FYI]

#3 urban myth. Studies prove otherwise.

#4 There are actually studies to prove that microwaving food is detrimental.

#5 i have read a study that states studies may or may not be beneficial. just sayin...

#6 I read a study that one day we are all going to die.

I don't know why I think this is so funny, except that the last comment really brings the whole discussion to a close. "just sayin'"...

Someday...

Someday all of our electronic devices will work at the same time.

Someday I will go to bed when I am tired and not stay up past my sleep time, making it impossible for me to go to bed until a much too late hour of the night.

Someday I will learn to use a candy thermometer and make toffee and other goodies that I now just dream of. It's depressing to be ignorant of this candy making skill. It is, however, probably for the best since we really don't need anymore sweets.

Someday I will buy a meat tenderizer. I used to have one and never used it. Now I don't know where it went. Again, there are many recipes I would like to make (mainly chicken ones where you roll tasty fillings inside), but I don't have the means to pound that chicken breast flat. Ugh again, big sigh.

Someday I may be as smart as my email account. I went to send someone an email with a letter for them to review. As I hit send, gmail popped up with "you wrote, 'I've attached' and do not have an attachment. Do you want to send it anyway?" Well of course not, thank you for telling me I'm an idiot.

Someday I will know all my account names and super secret passwords for important top secret web sites like Pei Wei and Walgreens photo center.

Someday, I hope, all our debts will be payed off and we'll know not to get back into debt.

Someday (soon!) tax season will be over. I won't be so busy, life won't be so hectic, and I won't have as much income. That won't help with the above 'someday' though, will it?

Someday I will know my alphabet well, and know that 8 times 7 is (49+7=) 56 without doing that little addition problem in my head.

Someday everyone in this house will stop coughing.

Today I will appreciate what I have, what and who I know, and who I love because I don't have it too shabby.

Odd Things

There has been a guy playing the bagpipes at the park every morning this week at 8 am. It's the best music I've ever heard coming through my bedroom window.

All my kids were up at 6:30 this morning. I went back to bed as they snuggled on the couch to watch "(In)credibos" together. The 2 girls weren't feeling well and ended up staying home.

I was trying to make a rocket cake for PT's birthday and was quite disappointed in how it was coming out. As I voiced my opinion and was about to give up, my oldest daughter pipes in with, "M0-om, he's 2. He's just going to see Buzz sitting on top and be happy." When did we switch roles?

I've done more cooking and baking this last week than I did all last month. It concluded with 2 new yummy recipes this evening at 1am (I guess that's actually tomorrow morning).

There's been a fly on this computer screen the whole time I've been typing and it hasn't budged a bit. Not even to move a little leg or flap a wing. Whoops, there he goes... he must know I'm talking about him.

Speaking of him and her, It's odd that we give gender identification to certain things. Yesterday I told a friend that the compost cake we made was looking good. I said, "I think he's done" as we threw on a few more crushed oreos and some sour worms. She giggled and said, "oh, it's a him is it?" Funny how gross things like stinky compost and annoying flies are boys.

I've been reading this person's blog for a while now and I'm pretty sure he's posted about a keyboard he likes more than once. It reminds me of Greg Kinear's character in You've Got Mail and how he has 3 or 4 typewriters at his various places of writing. Even though I want to mock these people in their specific preferences, I have recently become annoyed at our keyboard and (not so secretly anymore) covet this guy's obsession because it lights up and has a cool kind of glow to it. I think I'd be happy if I just didn't confuse the backspace key with the \\\\\ key. That's annoying.

There are 3 movies that keep replaying on our movie channel that I will stop and watch at any time of day: Easy A, Dear John, and Burlesque. Dear John is playing right now.

We have some pillows on our couch that have feathers in them. Sometimes they will poke out the fabic of the pillow and poke at you. When this happens, Bill pulls them out and then searches for more. It annoys the crud out of me, but also makes me laugh because he makes a funny face when he's found one and trying to get a grip on it. Now, of course, I sort of look for those boogies to pull out as well.

The Cardinals won the World Series! Woo Hoo! This isn't the odd thing, we have to go to last night's game for that. (If you don't follow baseball you can skip over the rest of this paragraph.) Last night the Cardinals were down by 2 runs. There was one out, runners on 1st and 2nd, and the guy at bat struck out. The next guy up hit a long fly ball to center field that scored 2 runs and sent them into extra innings. If they had not won last night they would have lost the series. Now, if you've stuck with me this far, here's the odd thing: if that guy had not struck out and given them 2 outs, the runners would have had to stay on their bases in case the ball to center field was caught. But, because there were 2 outs, they started running as soon as it was hit and both scored.

We've been talking about getting a land line again for a long time and finally did it. We haven't given out the phone number though because then we'd have to answer it. So far it's just a bunch of telemarketers, which reminds us of why we got rid of the line in the first place. We mostly use it to call our cell phones to find them. It's quite convenient for that since it's attached to the wall and isn't going anywhere.

That dumb fly is still there and is now inching (or maybe millimetering) his way down the screen to interfere with my ability to see what I'm typing. I guess it's time to go. Goodnight!

Score One for The Dinosaur Train

I love how children's shows change for the times. You have politically correct characters, kids excited about recycling, and parents using modern parenting techniques. These things make me sit back and wonder who writes these shows and how they come up with the topics and dialogue.

I have no doubt how the following dialogue appeared on The Dinosaur Train. Someone had my house bugged (they just changed the word "park" to "beach" and added in the train bit).

Child dino: Mom, can we go down to the beach?
Mom dino: Sure kids.
Child dino: We're gonna find ... and ... and ... (I wasn't really listening until...)
Mom dino: OK kids, you're father would be happy to take you!
Child dino: Alright! Can we take the dinosaur train?
Dad dino: (a bit hesitantly because he just got hosed into taking the kids to the beach) Sure kids, let's go down to the beach and give your mom some quality time to herself.

I KID YOU NOT!!! That show just taught my 2 year old that I need quality time for myself. LOVE IT!

Long ago were the days when those kids would come home to a glass of milk and homemade cookies with mom in an apron, dress, heals and pearls, mopping the floor. "Awe shucks, Beaver, what'd you have to go and do that for?" I still have a crush on Wally Cleaver.

Turns Out

I lurk on my husband's facebook account sometimes and it usually doesn't bother him because I do it while he's asleep. When he's up I question him on who people are and he threatened to change his password so I couldn't log in anymore... TURNS OUT he didn't change it, I clicked on something weird, but then read something nice he said about me. Awe.

There was this girl sporting a long blond ponytail with pink highlights that bobbed back and forth as she walked down the street... TURNS OUT it was a guy.

Kyra's school was supposed to start at 7am this year and I thought, "holy crap, how am I supposed to get up and get her to school so early?"... TURNS OUT they switched it to 8am, she carpools with my neighbor and I don't even have to get out of bed to see her off because she's 13 and self-sufficient.

Payton wakes up at 6:30ish and wants to wath TV...TURNS OUT if I make him go back to sleep (this usually involves a smack on the butt and a yell), he'll sleep until 8:45.

Blah, blah, blah...

I bought a 4pk of Romantic Comedies at Target for $5. Bill was going to bed so I quizzed him on which one he absolutely wouldn't be watching so I could plug it in. Michelle Pfeiffer was in, as was "the Spiderman chick" (Kirsten Dunst), so I was down to 2 flicks: a PG with Hilary Duff and one with Freddie Prinze Jr. Yeah, I don't think Bill can handle Freddie, even if it has a bunch of supermodels in it.

You can plug an iPod shuffle directly into your stereo system if you have the appropriate jack. The jack costs $20, which makes birthday shopping for Kyra super easy this year. I'm glad the kid knew what she wanted.

I was trying to figure out why I knew the actor Paul Bettany. When it occurred to me what he had been in I explained it to Bill in this order: he was the naked guy, in that movie, you know- the naked guy, umm- with Heath Ledger, he yelled a lot. At this point Bill jumped in and saved me, knowing the movie and agreeing that he was "the naked guy" even though neither of us came up with the name of the flick.

I went to Changing Hands to purchase a gobbler game by Blue Orange. They didn't have anything by this company, even though Blue Orange said they were a retailer. Apparently Changing Hands traded up, or down. All their toys were by Melissa and Doug. I hate Melissa and Doug. Mostly because they didn't have my game.

Only in AZ would someone consider a lightening storm reason enough to gather their family into the hallway for protection. Yes, I know her, we laugh about it, and I love her anyway. Do we really consider monsoon season having "weather"?

Payton is now the kid who will repeat anything that you say. Watch out. You wouldn't want to be the one that taught him some inappropriate phrase now, would you?

We went to Kyra's meet the teacher night. First hour, good. Second hour, not-so-good. She is signed up to be in a Men's Chorus. It was just downhill from there. I'm sure I'll be spending an eternity down at the office tomorrow trying to straighten this out.

Is there anything better than chicken, hot sauce, and blue cheese?

Well, maybe this Caramelized Nut Trio from Trader Joes.

I just read that during menopause a woman's body will suck fat cells from her butt and move them to her stomach to make up for the lost fat created by missing estrogen. (or something like that) Seriously? It's not bad enough that our hormones go out of whack making us mental patients on most days, we now get a saggy butt and something much more than a "muffin top" to go with it. I don't think those are the kind of curves we really want.

I'm going to be 40. Not someday. THIS YEAR! It's awesome. I have an idea for a celebration, but am looking for alternative suggestion. Give it up folks!

I'm thinking of adopting a new motto: "Think Less. Do More. Live Simple."

Yup, you heard it here first: I'm going to try to stop thinking so much. Of course, that was several days ago and here I sit, blabbering my thoughts to a keyboard.

Shhh... don't tell...

Tax day is actually April 18th this year. Because of a government holiday we have 3 extra days to file. Even if today was tax day, you wouldn't have to pick up your taxes from your taxman if he efiled them for you. They've already been filed. Electronically. Hence the "e" in efile. There is no magic button that he pushes to grant your request once you pay him. Unfortunately he does not have that power. But don't tell. The 30+ people that rushed down to pick up their papers today will feel dumb. (Also don't tell the taxman that I'm posting this while on the clock waiting for a client to come in and pick up their already efiled taxes from 2 months ago.) Silly people.

Oh, Jimi... really?

Knowledge speaks,

but wisdom listens.

Jimi Hendrix

The funny thing is that I know people who speak with knowledge and then don't listen to themselves. That's the really odd thing. The people that know all the right things to say and then just don't do them. Odd, funny? Funny, ha-ha? Or just plain sad? I don't know. I try to listen to other people and then reflect on that before I speak. Sometimes I need to clarify or talk it out to make the most of something someone has said. I think maybe wisdom comes after you listen, reflect, learn, and act. I wouldn't know though.

Eating Your Feelings

Maybe a month or so ago I had a conversation with a couple of guys at church. It was an odd sort of conversation and I don't know how it ended up where it did other than I can't typically stay on topic with any conversation. It ended up on food... oh wait (!) I said I was talking to guys, didn't I? Of course it ended up on food. Silly me. I find that when you let men talk they say some funny things. Other times they can be quite insightful. Mostly they are just dumb.

G1: You should just have your favorite sandwich. (I can't remember how this started)
Me: That's the problem, I don't have A favorite sandwich, I like a lot of sandwiches.
G2: Oh come on, you have to have a favorite.
Me: No, I'm a moody eater. I only want what I want, when I want it.
G2: Really?
Me: Aren't you like that? Don't you want a particular sandwich at a certain time?
G2: Look at me (pointing to his non-girlish figure), do I look like I'm particular?
(A bit of laughter, all around)
Me: It's like pizza... there are certain times when I want certain kinds of pizza, ya know? Sometimes it will be Pizza Hut, other times I want Papa Johns (mostly for the dipping sauces), I rarely want homemade, Costco is a good price for the family, but a real pizza craving sometimes boils down to a crappy cardboard Tostinos dollar pizza.
G1: Oh yeah, Tostinos. (I can see it in his eyes. He has a story, and it's a good one.)

Guy 1 goes on about a college experience in which he broke up with a girl and it broke his heart. Guy 2 gave him a hard time because he shouldn't have done it if it broke his heart. Whatever, guys are dumb. Long story short (and it WAS a long story), he stopped and bought a couple of Tostinos pizzas and was in the process of cooking them when his roommate came home. His roommate saw that he was about to eat his feelings and performed an intervention. It was an eating intervention. That's funny I tell ya. Good stuff.

So what's the point here, H? Nothing really. Just that I've been wanting a stupid Tostinos pizza since that conversation and all I've had was Costco which just doesn't cut it. Yesterday I read a book (almost cover to cover) and there was a dumb boy in it that had a frozen pizza. In fact, I believe there were 3 separate occasions in which three separate dumb boys ate frozen pizzas.

The timer just went off, the pizza is cooling a bit, and I will go cut it into 4 equal slices with my pampered chef pizza cutter because that is what civilized people do. I'm not going to just fold that sucker in half and eat it like a taco. Dumb boys!

Fable of the Porcupine

It was the coldest winter ever. Many animals died because of the cold. The porcupines, realizing the situation, decided to group together. This way they covered and protected themselves; but the quills of each one wounded their closest companions even though they gave off heat to each other.

After awhile, they decided to distance themselves one from the other and they began to die, alone and frozen. So they had to make a choice: either accept the quills of their companions or disappear from the Earth.

Wisely, they decided to go back to being together. This way they learned to live with the little wounds that were caused by the close relationship with their companion, but the most important part of it, was the heat that came from the others. This way they were able to survive.

Moral of the story: The best relationship is not the one that brings together perfect people, but the best is when each individual learns to live with the imperfections of others and can admire the other person's good qualities.

Seltzer Water and Fruit Gels

Every Saturday for, well, forever, Bill has gone to the grocery store for me because we inevitably need something for Sunday. I'm not sure why this happens. I can go all week without going to the store and we'll do without, but knowing that we shouldn't go to the store on Sunday means that we absolutely NEED something the day before. Anyway, he didn't go tonight, I did. That's always a mistake because I NEVER stick to the list.

It seems like every time I see Bill's sister I crave seltzer water. When she used to visit she would have a bottle of seltzer and mix it with gin or Jack or whatever. I don't know exactly. I envied the way she was able to sip on her drink for like an hour and not have to refill the 10 times I would. OK, I'm exaggerating, but you understand my point, don't you? I would sometimes fill a glass with ice and seltzer just so I could sit and chat with her without getting bloated on soda or water and so I didn't have to run to the bathroom every 10 minutes. Anyway, I bought some tonight.

Fruit seems like a healthy option for a snack and the produce section seems like a safe place to shop. This is where I started my shopping excursion. Bananas, grapes, apples. Check, check, check. I bought the cheap fruit. I just couldn't find it in myself to pay a buck for a mango or even worse, 59 cents for a kiwi. Do you know how small a kiwi is?! I was checking out the oranges when I saw a sale sign below for some fruit gels. Yum. They looked tasty. The tangerine looked scrumptiously orange and you can't go wrong with raspberry. Check, check.

After I got home and sent Bill to bed because I'm not going to be tired for hours do to a 2 hour nap I took with Payton from 2-4pm, I unloaded the many extra groceries that I had and started putting things away. I opened and tasted the fruit gels, yum. I got a glass of ice out and opened the seltzer water. YIKES! That sucker started spewing EVERYWHERE! It totally took me off guard and when the geyser started going I couldn't even keep the lid in place. It blew up all over the island, including all in the 2 open containers of fruit gels, all over the floor between the island and the sink, and by the time I got it to the sink, nothing. It was done exploding. Nice.

So here I sit, blogging my disaster of a shopping trip, sipping on seltzer and eating wet fruit gels. And let's face it, seltzer water doesn't really taste good and fruit gels are really gum drops.

Ugh.

I reread that last post about pie and a few things came to mind:

1. I should not post or read posts about food while hungry. It just makes me hungrier.
2. There were so many grammatical errors and weird sentence structures and wrong verb tenses that I don't even know where to start to fix it so I'm going to leave it. (I' m pretty sure this last sentence was a good example of what I'm talking about.)
3. I may have lost my ability to write.

Ugh. What happened to me? Will I get it back or am I ruined for.e.ver?

What is is About Engineers?

Is there something in the mind of an engineer that makes it physically impossible for them to leave the world in the state of unbalance? Something is a bit tippy, they have to fix it. They do it without question and without even knowing they are doing it, I believe. Is it a compelling need to balance things? For example:

• I was sewing on a table and an engineer noticed it bobbing up and down with the rythm of the machine. I had gotten used to it and kind of found comfort with the bounce, bounce and hum, hum of the 2 items working in unity as I completed my project. He quickly lifted the leg of the table and adjusted it to level the playing field. Sucked all the joy out of my sewing.
• A card game was completely put on hold as an engineer got up to go get his tools to fix the chair he was sitting on. When questioned he didn't even realize that it could possibly be in conflict to those around him. It was something that needed to be done. Then he fixed all the other chairs that had screws loose.
• Payton was happily rocking a table outside of Einsteins when an engineer joined us. Before sitting down, he folded up a napkin, squatted down to the cast iron leg and carefully placed the napkin under the foot. Poor PT, his fun was over. Onto eating the rocks on the ground.
• It's impossible to play cards with any of them either. Watch them. Their eyes are searching the numbers in the memory banks of their heads to determine who played what and what is left out there. Really? Just play a *&#@ card, you're going to lose anyway!
• And then there's the one that I haven't actually seen physically balance anything. But we've had group conversations and he'll tip his head to one side and get a squinty look, sometimes asking a question or clarification on something. I know what he's doing. He's trying to balance things out in his head, make sense of the chaos that is human nature. Poor guy.
• Oh, and let's not foget the one that really hopes/wishes/believes that people in the world should be able to get along. They should be able to respect one another's needs and desires, while at the same time having their own needs and desires. There is a solution. Balance. He'll search for it all day and night via the internet, blogs, articles, podcasts, etc. More power to him. God speed the way!

Don't they teach these guys in engineer school that the world is not balanced and it's OK? This is clearly why I dropped the thought of becoming an engineer myself and went into teaching. Well, that and the fact that a good 75% of the ASU engineering department gave me the creeps. I'm sure it wasn't any of these fine, outstanding engineers that I personally know now, however.

Pen, Pencil, or Crayon. The Game.

This game can be played with a variety of ages. Young players will tend to follow the older crowd, so no worries if the concept of the game is not understood, even a non-talker will have fun.

Step 1: Borrow a backpack full of pens, pencils (colored or regular), and crayons. There can be markers in there as well, and there adds a bit of surprise if the lids come off easily or are not pushed on all the way.

Step 2: Get at least 2 unsuspecting children and don't explain the rules because there are none.

Step 3: Grab a hand full of pens, pencils and crayons and hold it low in the bag so that the children can't really see what you have in your hand.

Step 4: Ask, "What do you think I will pull out? A pen, a pencil, or a crayon?"

Step 5: The children will guess. Often times the younger child will just copy the older child. That's OK. If it continues to happen you may ask the younger child to go first.

Step 6: Pull out one writing utensil and see if anyone got it right. Cheer, laugh, cry... whatever seems appropriate based on the item that was pulled out.

Step 7: Put the item back in the bag and ask the children an abbreviated version of the question: "Pen, pencil, or crayon?" They understand by now because they are bright children and it's not a hard game.

Additional tips:

• you probably don't have to have a backpack for this game, just a container that you can somewhat hide the items in.
• when you pull out a marker, "accidentally" pull the lid off. This is funny.
• when you pull out a short colored pencil, think that it is extra long and then it will fly out of your hand and fling down the hall
• if a totally cute Asian boy sits down next to you and watches, let him play. It doesn't really matter if he speaks English or not, he's 2 and is just copying the other kids. He'll get excited and clap when they get it right.
• if a player starts to get discouraged that they are not guessing right, make sure you pull out their guess next. This is rewarding for both you and the child.
• sometimes an older child may ask, "what letter/sound does it start with?" Assuming you know what you're pulling out, you can tell them. If this occurs, you may add "marker" to your list of items since it adds an additional sound to the line up.
• if the children try to peek to see what you are going to pull out, let them. Who cares. This isn't really a game anyway.

Thanks for tuning into this episode of "what to do at the end of a 3 hour block of church when you've exhausted all other games, snacks, and ideas..."

Is It Really That Odd?

Am I the only person that meets my husband for lunch? Does anyone else do this? Is this abnormal? I'm not sure what to think of the fact that people comment on how nice it is that I meet Bill for lunch sometimes. "Awe, how sweet" is all I hear. What's so sweet about it? Huh? Huh?

I'm wondering when it started or if maybe it just never stopped. Maybe the reason it seems natural is because Bill and I used to work together and would often times plan our lunch break at the same time. But even then, when we saw each other every day, we didn't do it all the time. We would go out in groups or with other people or even just bring something back if one of us was busy working too hard. It was back in the cantgetenoughofeachother, havetocalleverynight, kisskisssmoochsmooch, blahblahblah days of dating and falling in love. And by "falling in love", I actually mean the bliss of the honeymoon of not really knowing what true love is all about. Not where we are now. OK wait, that sounds really lame. Clearly, I'm not a writer. Let's try C.S. Lewis:

"...whatever people say, the state called 'being in love' usually does not last. If the old fairy-tale ending 'They lived happily ever after' is taken to mean 'They felt for the next fifty years exactly as they felt the day before they were married', then it says what probably never was nor ever would be true, and would be highly undesirable if it were. Who could bear to live in that excitement for even five years? What would become of your work, your appetite, your sleep, your friendships? But, of course, ceasing to be 'in love' need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense-love as distinct from 'being in love'-is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by (in Christian marriages) the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God. They can have this love for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other..."

Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about, baby. So clearly I'm not falling in love anymore. There have been plenty of times when I haven't liked Bill. (GASP!) In fact, sometimes lunch is used to break the ice of the silence that weighs heavily after a nice little disagreement (aka: fight). Other times it's because one of us is having a really bad day. And sometimes, well most of the time, lunch is just lunch. Everybody has to eat, right?

So, I ask again: is it really so odd, or so sweet, that I meet Bill for lunch?

A Day's Worth of Thoughts

Junie B. Jones cracks me up. Well, I guess the author Barbara Park is the one to actually give credit to, but it's the voice of Junie B. (in my head and as I speak it to Tasha) that is actually making me laugh. Tasha was cracking up at the end of one of her stories tonight and I typically will have to stop reading at some point during each chapter. She named her Raggedy Ann doll "Raggedy Ruth", and her companion is "Raggedy Larry." Can you imagine the discussion that would have gone down with the parents and child trying to explain that the dolls already had names? And then her stuffed animal elephant is named "Philip Johnny Bob." Three first names, and she uses them all each time. Guess you have to read it to understand. There have been several occasions that I have thought of posting a page of one of her more crazy conversations.

The officer that works at McKemy is quite the traffic cop. He has cars and buses moving in and out of that place like it's no body's business. At first I thought he was out there to actually police the streets and send people on their way which would just be a nightmare. Much to my delight however, I realized that he was making things easier and having people break traffic rules to get things moving. Amen to that cop! And yes Bill, I rolled down my window and thanked him. He said, "Well, what can you do? This school was built in the 50's it wasn't prepared for this." Super cool.

I thought an Open House was just that, "open". I thought it meant that you could come and go like the wind, in and out at your pleasure, no formal gathering or lectures. I was wrong. Next time I'll read the parent letter and discover that when the school has an open house, the first grade has a parent meeting. Maybe then I'll be on time.

Only at a Waldorf school will a parent raise their hand and ask, "can you speak to the rhythm of the day?" I think I did an audible gasp as I choked on my Waldorf salad, realizing that I absolutely will never quite fit in at DMS. In her defense, she apparently works at the school and is accustomed to using such terminology. But I tell ya, the first time I hear someone say "pedagogy" it is going to take all my energy to not shove my pedi-somethin' in their mouth. Just sayin'. I guess I'm just not that learn-ed, edjumicated, or at least not that eloquent.

Tasha just needs to feel useful. All week long she's been a gem. (And by week I'm talking about the last 5-6 days, not just since Sunday!) She's had chores to do and sewing to complete and has kept her room picked up. Maybe she's just growing into her 6 year old body and is ready to start first grade, who knows? Today she single-handedly took care of Payton (willingly!) while I helped Kyra through a rough patch of Monday morning, second week of school, blues. Love it!

The end of "summer" (like the official meaning of summer, not the heat that is Arizona) is upon us. I'm going to have to give up my Sonic vice. I've gotten very accustomed to happy hour at Sonic and a ginormous cranberry limeade. Yum.

I might just fit in at DMS. Bill pointed out that another mother said, "what if sewing that thing just isn't going to happen at my house?" That makes me chuckle. Sewing is something I can do. Sing-song voice and rythmic morning (I've got a post in the works for that one) are just not in me. Neither are granola/earthy/organic meals/clothes/school supplies. Just not happenin'. Sorry.

And back to Junie B. Here's a quote of hers from school. Her teacher, "Mrs." ('cuz that's the only part of her name that Junie B. likes) is coming toward her desk because she's in trouble. "Guess what? I am going to do my work now, " I said. "Plus also, I am not even going to talk. 'Cause I don't actually like anyone in this area." I don't know if we should all be a little more or a little less Junie B. like.

If, after a friend was your house, they break something and then call and apologize for it and you forget to call them back and tell them it wasn't a problem, do you then become the lame friend? I mean, I got the message a week ago and can't even remember what was busted. I hope they weren't thinking I was ticked or something.

Peanut butter and chocolate really do go well together.

When you own a truck, everyone calls you when they are moving. When you own a van, everyone calls you for a ride. I enjoy the latter, and am grateful we don't own a truck.

Perspective

I took the picture below to show Bill where we were when he was texting us, asking about batteries. The intent was to get just the kids and the little circles on the Target cup while PT was sucking away at the straw. Of course, when you have 2 subjects of childhood/baby age, not everything goes as intended. I happened to be flipping through pictures on my phone yesterday and thought this picture offered some interesting perspectives.

• Poor Tasha. Look at how tall that cart is for her. That has to hurt her elbows to lean up and over like that. And the poor kid so badly wants to help and push. She gave up pushing months ago and that must have felt like defeat. Is this what life feels like for her so often? Ugh, to be six.
• While sitting in the cart, PT is taller than Tasha. He's looking down at her. He doesn't look down at many people very often. What must that feel like? His head is over hers when she carries him sometimes too. Interesting. I bet he thinks he can push her around. Again, poor Tasha.
• The lights on the ceiling look like runway lights to me. I turned my phone upside down to look at it that way and then I thought of a bowling alley. Strange. I don't recommend turning your computer upside down to get the same affect, but maybe you could stand on your head. Just a thought. Poor you.

The other thing I was thinking about perspective has absolutely nothing to do with this picture, but more to do with how we look at things in a thoughtful kind of way, not an actually looking with our eyes kind of way. I had a really bad, creepy crawly (if you know what I mean), kind of day yesterday. I was freaking out and not well and had to do all sorts of things to escape the horror which I saw as the end of life as I know it in my home, all because of the satanic bug that was lurking behind every corner of my home. Now, he's still there, and I'm still freaked out, and I still can't wait until 1ish when the pest people come and blow his brains out, BUT... There are worse things in the world. My situation could be a lot worse and my nightmare could actually be a nightmare that leaves actual physical or emotional scars. I'm grateful that things are as they are.

Summer Is A Drag

I imagine it's because we live in the stinkin' desert and it's stinkin' hot, but summer here is just a drag. I don't want to go anyplace or do anything which means I don't really get to see anyone. Drag, drag, drag. I sit at home staring at my walls, listening to my kids, and glaring out the window wishing the sun away. Blah. Doesn't that word just sum up an Arizona summer? "Blah." Not even an exclamation point is needed because that would mean some sort of exalted feeling. Blah, blah, blah. (period)

The end of summer is coming though. And how do I know this? School supplies!!! School supplies are on sale and Target has it's special holiday section devoted to nothing but papers and pencils and fun coloring items. Sticky tape, bottled glue, glue sticks... you name it, we can adhere it. Binders, backpacks, stretchy book covers that I've never really understood, erasers for all the mistakes we're bound to make, and sharpeners to make a point. Ahh, sweet school supplies!

And what's even better than school supplies? Yep, back to school night, meet the teacher night, and finally... you got it... SCHOOL STARTS!!! How fun was it to meet all of Kyra's teachers at a new school, for a new adventure? TOTALLY fun, and I couldn't stand Jr. High as a kid. All I know is that Kyra found all the rooms by herself, wrote down the supplies she would need, introduced herself (when she was asked), and played it all pretty cool. She's ready, no worry there. Transitioning to a big public school had made me nervous in the past, but I felt pretty good about things last year. I never looked back or considered looking elsewhere. McKemy was the place for her and she proved me right today. What a great day!

Now, we can coast this school's roller coaster for 2 years and them I'm right back to square one for research and finding high school. Yeesh. Maybe summer isn't so bad after all...

But, for now, "I'd send you a bouquet of sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address."

Microwave Minute

In an effort to have a clue, I've signed up to received daily emails from the Urban Dictionary. One might think that having a dictionary site sending you daily antidotes would make you smarter. I don't think this is necessarily going to be the case. I'm mostly going to get a bunch of slang words and how to use them in everyday talk. You know, the kind of lingo that would make a 37 year old housewife look and sound like a fool. So, instead of being enlightened, I'm going to fill my much too small of a noggin with ridiculous information that I will probably never use. Well, that's not entirely true because I've already used some of the slang in my own home. I told Bill to "shut up and keep talking" the other night and it worked like a charm. There do seem to be catch phrases that really just mean something that we already have names for, like "microwave minute":

When time slows down while waiting for your food to heat in the microwave. Known side effects are increased hunger, slowing of all the clocks in your house and walking around aimlessly trying to kill time. The microwave minute has the ability to slow time turning one minute into what feels like an hour.

Kus(9:00 pm): dude when are you gunna get here??
Ryan(9:00 pm): I'll be there in a microwave minute.
Kus(9:00 pm): aight g. Ill see you at 10:00!

Isn't this pretty much like Mormon Standard Time? Or Greek time, as my aunt likes to call it. I mean really, if you say something starts at church at 6:30 you can show up at 7 and not have missed anything except the opening prayer and the line for the food. Oh alright, you really shouldn't miss the prayer, but unless you want to make a race for the line just to beat that one person to the green jello salad, who really cares? And what if it's a potluck? Well, all the good food isn't even going to make it until 7 anyway.

I imagine that these terms aren't exactly the same thing, but it would be fun to see how late I could be to something if I combine all of them. I mean, Greek time alone has slowed me down since I was born. So let's see...

Following Greek time, I started getting ready for the 6 o'clock event at 6 o'clock. As 6:30 passed by I realized that the party had just begun on Mormon Standard Time. So then, as I reheated the funeral potatoes for 5 minutes, we all sat around starving for a microwave minute and left the house at something like 7:30.

As I reread this I realized a couple of things. 1. I'm not a 37 year old housewife. I don't like to be referred to as "housewife", and I'm not really 37. Oops. 2. Housewives have no concept of "microwave minute" and it's not because we don't get the lingo. It's because we never catch ourselves actually waiting on the food heating up in the microwave. Let's face it, while the food is heating up we are loading or unloading the dishwasher, taking care of laundry, sweeping or mopping up something that was spilled by another shorter family member, or blogging something totally ridiculous that happened to us 4 days ago. By the time we're done with our task, the microwave has beeped at least 5 times and the food has probably gotten cold again. What do you call that? What do you call the food that has been reheated and left in the microwave to get cold again? That's a term I'd use daily.

Aight g. See ya in a week.

Yep, Summer is Here

There are the typical signs of summer approaching that we see in Arizona. The signs that involve too much skin and lots of stinky old men. I'm not focusing on that this year. Here's what I've got:

The itch to go camping. Serious, in the woods, away from the highway, no bathroom, ditch church on Sunday camping. It's happening. I'll make it so.

Swimming pools are calling me. This is odd because I'm not a pool person. It must be Payton and his stinky sweaty head. After our first venture to my brother's house when the water was still WAY too cold, we've made 2 more trips to 2 more locations. The question I really have is: why do I not know anyone with a pool that lives closer than a 30 minute drive?

Watermelon. The good stuff should be here soon. I've had a few tastes already, but they are no where near the good, juicy, sweet quality melon that will be coming out soon. Oh, how I look forward to those!

Summer camps and classes. They start next week. Tasha is jumping out of her skin to go back to Kids Kamp and Kyra will be starting a cool art workshop offered by the city. I think we've got a pretty good jump on staying out of the "mom, I'm bored" state of being, at least for June.

4th of July. I wasn't going to go up north this year but now I'm floundering. I think the truth of it was that it really hadn't gotten hot until this last week. May was beautiful. Then we had like 3 days over a hundred in a row and it started to take it's toll. I think by July I'll want a break and sneak my kids off to my mom's. Maybe we'll do the fireworks, although I think they may freak Payton out, maybe not. Either way, we'll probably stay a week so Tasha can go to Bible camp :)