Sick Days With The CTU

I think I may be about 11 years behind the curve with this post.
Thanks to back-to-back illnesses and streaming Netflix, the boy and I are hooked on "24" and Jack Bauer. 
It all started when he had strep throat.  The boy... not Jack Bauer. 
We were stuck at home and decided to do something useful with our PS3 besides play hours of violent video games. 
We decided to watch hours of a violent TV drama. 
Now we've been sucked into the world of counter-terrorism.
I vaguely recall watching the first season way back in the day, and I remember enjoying it.  I don't know exactly why I stopped watching.  Maybe it was the toddler claiming all my time, energy, and freedom to watch adult television?
Now that toddler is a teen and we are well into Season 2.  Thanks to the stomach virus, we knocked out the rest of Season 1 in a day.

Living in Jack Bauer's world for hours at a time does have its negative effects.
The line between reality and "24" has blurred on more than a few occasions.

In the first Presidential Debate, I was surprised when President Palmer didn't walk out on stage.

The boy has started showering with the curtain partly open. He told me terrorists are known for walking in on people while they're showering.

We got excited when the pouring rain cancelled soccer practice. It meant we had time for a few episodes.

I was kissing the boy good night last week and he asked me to "un-tuck" his covers from the sides of the bed.  In case he had to make a quick get-away.

Last night, Dan/Daddy worked late, so the boy and I ate dinner in front of the TV and burned through 2 episodes.  There was a scene where Jack kills a federal witness and hints at the fact he's going to cut off the dude's head.  He said,
"I'm gonna need a hacksaw."

The boy and I both cheered and high-fived.  I think we might need counseling.

It's That Time Of Year Again

Please forgive me if the blog posts are few and far between for the next 6 days.

Two words:
Shark Week.

Woo to the hoo! We are glued to the TV.

Stay out of the water, people.

Just When You Think It Can't Get Worse

Let's all pause for a moment and thank the Good Lord above that I don't live in Southeast Asia.

As you may know by now, there's ENTIRELY too much Animal Planet viewing going on at our house.

Folks, brace yourselves.

There are snakes that fly.

Yep. FLY.

As if I could be ANY MORE AFRAID of them.

Now I find out that there are some species that will hurl themselves from their tree and glide through the air. Then they undulate their snakey bodies from side to side to go further. (Even the word "undulate" is wigging me out.)

Oh. Dear. Lord.



Imagine that skinny demon swooping through the sky above you.
That is just a million levels of wrong.

"Hell on Earth" pretty much sums it up for me.

It's when I find out things like this that I momentarily consider having our cable shut off. (Except I can't imagine a world without the Food Network or Design Star or Hell's Kitchen or TLC or Tori & Dean and now I've revealed too much.)

May God save us all from the flying snakes.

Nothing a Little "Shark Week" Won't Cure

Don't ya'll hate having a cold in the summer? A cold isn't my idea of fun at ANY time of the year, but in the summer? Gimme a break, here, Mr. Germ.

Stuffy nose + 100 degrees outside? No breathin' going on here.

Despite my youthful wildness (and there was plenty of it), I can say with sincerity that I've never had a hangover.

Until yesterday.

No, my husband's absence didn't drive me to the tequila bottle (yet).

This girl took herself some NyQuil.

Good Lord.

There ought to be awards for just getting that stuff down.
And the next morning?
I felt like I'd been run over by a truck.
My mouth was dry, my eyes wouldn't focus, my feet were heavy, and it took a lot of coffee to get me feeling somewhat normal.

Good thing I'm not a heavy drinker.

It's also a good thing the boy and I had the Discovery Channel to amuse us this week.

For those of you land-lubbers out there... it's been Shark Week.
Our most favorite TV week of the year.
We learn a LOT and get creeped-out even more.
And we vow,
"We're never going back in the ocean again!"
(Until the next time we go to the beach.)

We do love us some Shark Week.
What an amazing planet this truly is.

I just wouldn't recommend watching ocean creatures eat people while hyped up on NyQuil.

Food Network Here We Come

I have a cute story about the boy. It happened just a few years ago. Have I told you before? Forgive my old-woman forgetfulness if I have.

We were at the park, and the kids were all playing in the sand. A small gang of them had decided to commandeer the bottom of the slide as their personal "kitchen." You know, making cakes and stuff out of wet sand and sticks. Then I hear a shout (a loud request) from my boy,

"Who wants to be my sous chef?!?"

I think perhaps we were watching a bit too much Iron Chef America back then.

He still loves to watch cooking shows with me, and he proclaims - like his mama - that Bobby Flay is his favorite.

From time to time, I can get him to cook with me. Not as much as when he was younger. Sad.

But, he will occasionally pop into the kitchen to "make something" for himself or whatever brave soul will eat it with him.

Side note:
One of the small challenges of a "deployment household" is eating. Well, not really the eating part... you can tell that by looking at my... well. Maybe I should say the challenge is cooking. Anyway, it's hard to find and fix a nutritious meal for two people. You just don't wanna put in the time and effort that it often requires. We eat out WAY too much, and salads get old fast. Toss in 100 degree weather and you get my issue.

Let the consumption of trash begin.

"What do you want for lunch today, son?"

"Mac and cheese and sushi."

"You got it."





And for you real foodies out there... that "sushi" came from the Commissary (Army grocery store). Classy.

Maybe Bobby Flay shouldn't be too concerned about his job.

All My Worldly Possessions...

... are back in one place. That's what my mom said to me just a few days ago.

She and my dad came to help us make the move to the "big" house. That's what we call it. And, folks.. it is a big house.

Whoopee!

I (we) worked our booties off for two days straight. Too bad that the booty doesn't ACTUALLY go away.

And if you were wondering. Yep, I got hurt. I got smacked in the face with a piece of the boy's play fort while we were taking it apart. But, I WAS NOT WEARING THE FLIP FLOPS! Ha!

Yesterday, I slowed down a bit. I just unpacked 487,693 boxes.

And guess what! The "big" house has stairs. And 274,874 of those boxes were upstairs when they needed to be downstairs. And 212,819 of those boxes were downstairs when they needed to be upstairs. Good times.

So last night, I sat my tired self down to the finale of a little show we call Idol. And, boo hoo. But, I refuse to be a "hater." Kris Allen is a very talented and humble guy. And his little wife is adorable. I wish him much success.

He was not, as you may have assumed, my personal favorite.



I know... I know. He's wearing eyeliner and black nail polish. I know... I know. There are LOTS of questions about his choice of lifestyle. I have heard it ALL. As we say in the South, "My grand-daddy would be rolling over in his grave if he could see how these kids are looking these days!"

But, I am a fan. A HUGE fan. A sad fan today.

And what about that singing with KISS? Have mercy.

This morning, the news lady said second place is a blessing in disguise for Adam because it keeps him from having to sing that cheesy winner's song - "No Boundaries."

Hee hee.

I have no doubts that Adam will be successful.

Because I'll be the first in line to buy his music.



In the meantime, I'll be unpacking.

A Little Bit of Idol

I feel, somehow, a little happier today.

Did I get good news from a family member?

Did I catch up on all my scrapbooking?

Did someone offer to do all my laundry for the next 10 years?

Did I win the lottery?

Nope. None of the above.

Just got to watch a little American Idol last night.

Ahh.

I knew something had been missing from my scattered little life.

It was condescending judges and bad singing. Why is that entertainment to me?