Future Mother-in-Law of a Spanish Pastry

There's a cute little scrapbook on my dusty little shelf that contains some really good stuff.
It is a book that I started a long time ago. To record SOME of the most memorable and funny stuff the boy says.

Great concept. Because we all know just how hysterical kids can be.

But... like a lot of things... it gets "neglected" from time to time. No... not the kid... the book. Breathing things in our house don't ever get neglected... just the other stuff.

Anywho...

Last night, the boy and I had a little date to the Chinese fast food joint while Dan was at an Army thing.

As we were leaving the food court, my friend "Cinnabon" called out to us, and we couldn't just ignore her... that would be rude.

So... We were walking out to the car, munching on churros... all cinnamony and sugary and hot and... yum.

And, the boy says,

"If people could get married to food... I would marry a churro."



Once again... no doubt... he's my child.

Wheat Thins in My Pocket

If that's not already the title of a country music song, it should be.

"Wheat thins in my pocket... wish I had a rocket...
You keep my picture in a locket..."

I never said I was a songwriter.

I was doing a little (ha) laundry the other night.

I was doing so much laundry that it was PILED up in my floor.

It was so piled up... I was standing on it... like a tiny mountain.

While climbing around on Mount Laundry, I heard a "crunch" sound.

"Great," I thought. "What the heck did I just step on?"

Was it a buried toy? (A broken toy.)

A now-dead bug? (Please, Lord, no.)

A stray piece of cat food? (Because sometimes our cats' food mysteriously wanders off into other places.)


I dug way down into Mount Laundry, and found... a pair of jeans... little boy jeans.

With GREAT fear and trembling, I turned the pocket inside out. I do not need to tell you that I was SCARED of what I'd find.



They say "genetics will tell every time," and I can tell by looking in this boy's pocket that he belongs to me.

Carbs... saved for later.

Who knows when you'll need a little Wheat Thin "pick-me-up?"

I was smiling and dumping them into the sink when I remembered...
We haven't had Wheat Thins in our pantry for AGES.

I'm in Denial

I know some of you out there who live in reality will scoff. And laugh. And call me crazy.

But, that's ok. It's all been said before.

Just 3 more weeks, and the final show will air.

My TV family is going away forever, and I can't be comforted.

Mr. "I-Get-Better-Lookin-Every-Day-George-Clooney" even stopped in last night for a bit. Lord, help me.

As I told my sis-in-law,

"That is one handsome man. Gray hair and all, honey."

Fifteen years and 648,957,248 episodes have come and gone. And now it's almost time to say good-bye.

I have started compiling the 34 boxes of Kleenex I'll use on that final Thursday night.

I can't help but wonder how it will all end. ER has sorta done everything as far as "shockers" go... falling helicopters, floods, bio-terrorism, rabid animals (?), and even helicopters chopping off limbs. People limbs. Gosh, I'm gonna miss that.

My sarcastic husband and the equally sarcastic boy feel the need to bombard me with their (stupid) predictions for the last episode.

"A bomb will blow up the whole hospital... and kill everyone."

"The entire hospital is gonna burn to the ground... and kill everyone."

"It will have all been someone's dream... and kill everyone." (I think they stole that one.)

What kind of made-up TV drama do they think I watch?

I need a CBC and a central line... STAT.

What Time is It?

Dear Mr. Daylight Savings Time,

I am not a fan of you. Let's just get that out there first.

Oh... You will be a little more bearable in a few months. When school is out. When the kids are running around barefooted. When my own foot wardrobe consists of nothing but the flops that flip. When the playground is packed until 8:00 at night. When the IceCream Man plays his happy little sugar-song. When my sad old body has had a while to adjust.

But, until then... You are not my friend.

Love,
Me

There's just something wrong with having to reset EVERY clock in the house (and in the car). That "loss" of one hour does mess with the mind.

I am tired. And, I am apparently apathetic because this place we call home is a WRECK.

I must also be delusional because I keep asking my cats to clean my house for me.

They just look at me.



And yawn.



If anyone knows how to "get over" this lull of Daylight Savings Time, please let me know.
I am also open to suggestions on "How to Teach Your Cats to Clean Your House While You Nap."

No Swatting Allowed

I almost forgot to put up our pictures from the museum. Two weekends ago, we went to the Natural Science Museum in Raleigh. GREAT museum, if you ever get the chance to go.

It was a bit of a "spontaneous" trip. (For those of you who know me and my strange ways, you know I do not do "spontaneous" very well.) (For those of you who do not know me and my strange ways, I do not do "spontaneous" very well... it stresses me out.)

BUT, it was a fun little escape for the day.

I really think it was good for Dan to get away. He's been working like a crazy man lately, and we haven't seen him much. For some reason, the Army gives you LOADS of work to do in preparation for the nice "trips" they send you on. So much work, in fact, that he's gone all the time, and it seems like the "trip" has already started.

Maybe they think it's good practice.

So without further complaining, here is the museum!

First stop... was lunch. At a cute little cafe downtown. Can't take this family into a public place without feeding us first. It ain't pretty.







Giant dinosaurs, giant bugs, giant flying dinosaurs, and more dinosaurs!









Not everything in this place is dead!







One of the COOLEST things ever! The Butterfly Conservatory.





(Personally, my favorite moment of the day was when the "Butterfly Conservatory Lady-in-Charge" told us the only "rule" for going into the butterfly atrium was... "Don't swat the butterflies." Who swats a butterfly?)



And, the "Collections" Room... where you can actually go in and touch stuff! Dead stuffed stuff! (The boy's favorite part.)






I confess. I had to touch stuff in here, too. I will NOT swat a butterfly, but I can't resist poking a dead bird.

Happy Birthday Daddy!

Today is the birthday of one of the best dads I know!! Mine!! Yep, and I still call him "Daddy."

My parents were able to come and visit us this past weekend... to see their grandson play basketball. Oh yeah... to see me and Dan, too.

We had a great weekend despite the freezing temperatures and POURING rain.

We even had a little early birthday celebration on Friday night.

Just look at that look of love and admiration on the boy's face...


For the cake.

Eternal Delay

Well.

No snow for us.

All around us... folks got snow. LOADS of it.

I talked to my mom this morning and they have maybe 6 inches. And no power. (Yuckie. I hate no power.)

But... no snow for us.

I tried to tell a very sad boy this morning that he had his "Snow Days" a few weeks ago. That he had 7 inches of snow and other people didn't. That he should be glad for the dusting of snow and ice we DID get... because the "people that decide things" delayed classes for two hours.

His response?

"Well. I guess two hours is better than nothin' at all." (Sad face and sigh.)

Me? Personally, I made a discovery about myself this morning. I could LIVE every day on a two-hour delay. I've always known that I wasn't a morning person. But this is different. I could just slump around in my baggy old PJ's until about 10:00 every morning. There was no rushing. No last minute grabbing of stuff. It was calm and quiet, and I even watched a little Spongebob. Good times.

Truthfully... I know if every day started at 10:00 am, I would eventually get into a "rut" again. I'd be running around grabbing stuff. We'd be rushing out the door at 10:00 just like we do at 8:00. The calm and quiet would disappear. I'd be in my same mode... just two hours later than I am now.

But it's fun to dream.