Conversations

If I hadn't been there myself... Well, you know how it goes.
Actual conversations I've had this week:

1. My friend, J, and I chatted about - two times and at great length - the beauty of Steven Tyler's makeup on American Idol. Missing from the conversation was the fact that men don't wear makeup. On Steven Tyler and on TV, it works. And it looks great. Good job, makeup person. Good job, Steven Tyler.

2. The boy and I discussed Grimace from McDonald's. Old School McDonald's. The boy had a trading card with some big purple dude on it, and I said it looked like Grimace. "Who the heck is Grimace?" he asked. Grimace isn't around anymore. Ronald is sort of the one-man-McDonald's-show. But Grimace was real. And we chatted about him.




3. At dinner, my girlfriends and I talked about Pajama Jeans. You know you've seen them. Late night on TV. "The jeans that are as comfortable as your favorite pair of pajama pants!"



We laughed and laughed and came to the conclusion that we would actually rather see someone in real PJ's than Pajama Jeans. Sorry, Pajama Jeans fans.

4. Dan/Daddy and I had a long talk about the picture he sent me from his phone. It's of him and a dog. Wearing a LL Bean Headlamp. The dog is not wearing the headlamp; he is. He and the dog are looking at one another very affectionately. Just when you think this can't get any weirder, I'll tell you... we don't have a dog.
I may have to post this one later. It's worth it.

In case you were worried about the intellectual levels of my conversations, let me put your mind at ease. I have also talked about the book of Isaiah, our elaborate plans for moving this summer, National Geographic articles, and the turmoil in the Middle East.

I am nothing, if not well rounded.

Have a super duper weekend.

Happy On A Plate

We had such a lazy crazy weekend that it's already Wednesday and I just realized it.
Kidding. I had Tuesday stuff to do, so I knew it was Tuesday, too. I just kept getting it confused with Monday because of the holiday.
Confused yet?

Over the weekend, Dan/Daddy's parents came to see us... I mean, the boy. They were able to go to his basketball game...




And treat him to his newest obsession...



Chocolate Caramel Empanadas at On the Border...



I am not totally convinced it's the dessert; it may be the cute waitress that delivers them.

The boy drug his grandparents outside to play football and basketball and tag and chase and Heavens knows what else. He makes it his personal mission to injure and flat wear out any of his grandparents when they come to visit.

The weather was lovely, and I saw not one single naked person.

Friday Follies

For lack of a better term, I am calling my thoughts today... "Friday Follies." As if my arbitrary (and often bizarre) ramblings needed a title.

1. The boy has an ear infection. In the doctor's words... A nasty cold that caused "blockage in his Eustachian tubes" and a "cess pool of fluid." Good times. He's on the mend, but I thought it was worth mentioning. He also asked me why he couldn't just shoot the antibiotic into his ear instead of drinking it. I see a medical career in our future.

2. One of my new favorite ways to sleep is with my arms crossed in front of myself. Like a corpse. Freaky, I know. If anyone reading this ever finds me in that position, please don't call the funeral home... I'm just resting.

3. Have you seen the news about the nut job who poisoned the trees at Auburn University? Nut. Job. He poured herbicide in lethal doses into the soil around 100+ year-old trees because he's an Alabama fan.

Dear Mr. Tree-Killer,
You are not a fan. We are fans, and we think our rivals are pretty cool people. You have WAY too much time on your hands. You can be a fan without killing trees. Or hating.

4. Last weekend, I saw a girl wearing booty shorts, a tank top, and flip flops. And it was 59 degrees. Today, it's supposed to be 75. I wonder... Today is she naked?

Dear People, Just because the sun is shining... does not mean we have suddenly shot forward in time to July. Put on some seasonally appropriate clothes. Thank you.

5. While reading an magazine, I saw a writer refer to this season's American Idol as "The Steven Tyler Show." Yes. Yes it is. And I am OK with that.

We have a long weekend ahead of us; Dan/Daddy gets some time off from school. (Thank you, President's Day.) We have family coming in for a visit, the boy has a basketball game, and the weather...
Well. Just be on the lookout for naked people.

Braggity Brag Brag

He's all mine, and I can brag if I want to. (Well... I share him with Dan/Daddy. Sometimes.)

I would like to think that every momma and daddy out there brags on their own, too.

First Place in the 5th Grade Science Fair!





Here's his Principal...


A few folks have asked (hinted) at how much of his project I helped him with. I try not to take offense... Truthfully, I only assisted a tiny bit.
He's Mr. Independent, and he has his own agenda. (And I have no idea where he gets that from.) Even if I make a suggestion, he rolls his eyes.
To help, I...
1. bought the supplies he needed
2. proofed his typing
3. and glued like a mad woman the 2 days before it was due
He called me his "glue slave." So if that was helping too much, then I am guilty. I sorta think that parents should be helpers. Not the ones who DO the project; but, helpers.

His project studied the effect of rock music on pulse rates. Kids vs. Adults.



Guess what?!? We grown-ups win! The adults' pulse rates didn't go up near as much as the kids' when listening to rock music.
Maybe he should have measured my pulse rate when I was waiting for the Science Fair winner's name to be called. Now that's stress.

I Need A 12 Step Program

Dear Little Girl Scouts,
I love you.
And your cookies.






Yes siree. That's a cardboard box of cookie boxes. And that's just what's left...

Hi.
My name is Autumn.
And I have a problem.

Happy Valentine's Day Blog World!

Shelby 1994-2011

Well.
We had to do the thing we were dreading.
After watching her health go downhill for a week, the vet and I decided it was time.

The boy had said his goodbyes that morning before school. (Thank Heavens I didn't watch... couldn't have handled it.)
I called Dan/Daddy (who is away at Chaplain school) from the vet's office (sobbing), and he asked me to hold the phone up to her frail little head. I am not lying, and he may be embarrassed by me telling, but it was the sweetest thing. And I know she heard him tell her goodbye.

So in the end it was just me and her. And it was ok. My friend offered to come and be with me, and Dan/Daddy kept apologizing for not being there. But I didn't mind.
I was able to hold her and kiss her and tell her how much we loved her.

17 years is a very long time to share your home with a pet.
And your heart.
And mine has a kitty shaped hole in it today.

Why I Can't Be More Crafty

I had a moment of creativity yesterday. I made a new wreath for our front door. A Valentine's wreath that my sis-in-law inspired me to make.
She's all about the craftiness. I think I've told you before that I call her "Martha" (as in, Stewart) behind her back. And to her face.

She and I have dreams of becoming great in the crafting world. Decorating and making and blogging and etsy-ing and all that jazz.
But alas, they are just dreams.
She works full time and raises my adorable nephew. And is married to my brother. Now that's a job.
I, too, have responsibilities and demands.

Like watching American Idol.
And medicating my sweet old cat.
Now THAT'S a job.

Have you ever tried giving 2 pills a day to a 17 year-old cat? It's not like I can hand her the tablets and a glass of milk and say, "Down the hatch, Granny."
Yesterday, when she ventured out of her bed, I saw a pill down in the cushion.
Yep. I gave her her medicine, she acted like she'd swallowed it, and then when I turned my back, she spit it out and poked it down into the bed.

I need a raise.