If I Run Away

For the boy's Fall Break, we went to The Happiest Place on Earth.  Again.

 

 

 

If it were up to me, I would go to Disney every year.  Maybe twice.  Three times a year isn't inconceivable.  But I'm not independently wealthy, and Dan/Daddy says we need to go on other trips and see other places.  Blah, blah, blah.  Tell that to these faces...

 

 

 

 It was a fantastic vacation, and there was only one sad moment... The day we had to leave.

 

 

 

If I ever go missing or run away from home, you will know where to find me.



Tweezers, Eyebrows, And I'm Back

I have developed a bad habit of not keeping up with blogging.  Maybe it's the busy pace of life.  Maybe I've been out saving the world.  Maybe I should stop lying.

To the 3 of you who read my random stories, please accept my lame apologies.
Now here's a tale I promise I didn't make up.

A few months ago,  I had my eyebrows threaded for the first time. Have you heard of threading?  The practice of threading apparently started thousands of years ago.  A piece of thin thread is used (by a person who knows what they're doing) to pluck your eyebrow hairs.  It's supposed to be less painful than waxing.
When left alone, my eyebrows look like 2 woolly caterpillars.  I've used tweezers on them for years, and I've had them waxed from time to time. 
I had heard of threading, and when a friend told me she did it, I thought I would give it a try.

The young girl who led me to a chair looked at my face and said,
"Do you know your eyebrows are two totally different shapes?"
Well. 
How have I been walking around?
My verdict on threading?  It hurt.  A lot.  My eyebrows looked good, but it took about 18 hours for the redness to calm down.  On my second visit, the technician took off so many hairs, I looked like a plucked chicken.
That afternoon, I asked the boy if my eyebrows looked bad.  He said,
"How fast do eyebrows grow?"
I was done with threading, and I decided to grow my eyebrows back out.  Well, first I had to actually grow them back.

Not long after the plucked chicken incident, I lost my favorite pair of tweezers.  No big deal, you say.  Buy new tweezers, you say. 
I did.  I bought about 5 sets of tweezers.  I tried and tried to find a pair like the ones I'd lost, but none of them were the same.
Then one day, while vacuuming out my car, I found my old tweezers.  Under the seat.
I have no idea how they got there.
Maybe they were trying to run away from home... Dying of embarrassment from my plucked chicken eyebrows.

I've always had a chap stick/lip gloss hoarding problem.  Now I have tweezers to go with them.

Happy Soggy Halloween

The last few weeks (months?) have come and gone and we may never recover.  The blur of activities is winding down a tiny bit, so I decided to decorate for Halloween.

That is the sad state of my back porch, friends.  I threw away some lifeless brown plants and then regretted not moving them to the front porch for added spookiness.
Our weather forecast for the day is dreadful... pouring rain, wind, and a chance of tornadoes.  Sounds lovely for trick-or-treating, doesn't it?

Stay safe today, eat lots of candy, and leave the spider webs until tomorrow!

Smarty-Pants-ivity

School started 28 days ago, and I am 28 days behind on my sleep. I'm not even sure I could catch you up on what we did with the end of our summer... I'm too tired to remember.

This is the boy's last year of Middle School, so I may have had a "moment" after dropping him off that first day.  He is changing and growing so fast it makes my head spin.  I know all moms say that about all kids in every stage, but these time are mind-numbing for me.
Gone are the chubby cheeks and the crayons.  Now his voice is deeper than his dad's, and I don't even know how to turn his math calculator on.

There is, however, one thing I can count on no matter how big he gets. 
Make that 2 things.
His creativity and his sarcasm.  One is a gift, and the other is spoken like a second language in this house.

We were discussing an English test the boy took recently, and he explained to us he "disagreed" with the teacher about his answer.

The test question asked, "How can a letter be delivered majestically?"

The boy's answer?

"By a king or strapped to a unicorn."

I laughed for at least 30 minutes.  He is right... kings and unicorns are majestic.

We came to the conclusion the teacher was looking for a description or a definition of the word "majestically."

He does "think outside the box," and he is sarcastic.  So we talked about how his answer could have been perceived as both.  The "X" mark on the question will hopefully cause him to think before answering so quickly next time. 

I am still chuckling to myself about a unicorn delivering a letter.  I'm also praying a little harder for his teachers.

And It's Not Even Shark Week Yet

We "vacationed" to see Dan/Daddy's family for a few days last week.  It's always great to see family, but it's even better when they live at the beach.
It's not so great when it POURS rain almost the entire time you're there.
It's also not so great when your child gets strep throat while you're there.

We made a visit to Urgent Care with the boy's temperature at 102.7, and the physician wouldn't even let us leave the office until they were able to start bringing the fever down.
We've actually made lots of visits to Urgent Care with the boy while in Florida.  It's become a tradition.
At least 3 times for strep... more when he was younger.
Twice for hives.
Once to the ER with a sea catfish barb embedded in his thumb.
Do we know how to vacation, or what?

The boy is convinced the ocean hates him, even though he loves it.  He told me he thinks his death will be by sea life... which makes the rest of my story a little freaky.

The sun came out for the last 2 days we were there, and I let my sick kid go to the beach. 
The water was beautiful.

I was taking off my flip flops and putting my stuff down on a towel when I heard the boy calling me.

Apparently, Dan/Daddy had dived right into the ocean, and a lady in the water close by was yelling,
"Sir, there's a big fish near you!"

Dan/Daddy called back to her, "That would be a shark."

She was on the shore in about 1.3 seconds.
Dan/Daddy started making his way to the sand (but not nearly as fast as the lady).
The boy yelled to me,
"Come watch Daddy get eaten!"

Maybe we watch a little too much Animal Planet.
Perhaps it was the heat and sun.
He was running a very high temperature the day before.
Please don't think he was being cruel... he loves his dad. 
I just think he has his mother's sense of humor.

Youth Camp And The Zombie Apocalypse

The summer is more than halfway over, and I don't even have a tan to show for it.
I do have a few itchy streaks of poison ivy, and the boy has strep throat.  We know how to have fun.

We knew this summer would be a busy blur, but I don't think any of us realized just how fast it would go.
Our schedule has included (or will include):
1 week of Soccer Camp
6 days visiting the Florida grandparents
6 days visiting the South Carolina grandparents
1 week of VBS at church
1 week of Youth VBS at church
1 week of Youth Camp
13 episodes of The Walking Dead

Those last two items on my list are more closely linked than you can imagine.  The 3 of us recently started watching what is - quite possibly - the grossest and scariest TV show I have ever seen.  It's a very well-written show, because the more I watch it, the less it becomes about the zombies.
I start to wonder what I would do in a survival situation... which may or may not include dead people coming back to life.
I've contemplated packing a backpack with food... and a hatchet.
I've also decided that watching this show may be the only thing that ever motivates me to lose weight and exercise.  You know what happens to the slow people.

When I chaperoned the boy's Youth Group week at camp, I was able to put my zombie apocalypse skills to the test.  I functioned on very little sleep, lined up for my food, rationed out meds, screamed, and ran.  Not in that order.
We spent 3 days doing different types of mission work in Kentucky, and we had a great time.  We had 31 teenagers and 7 adults  in our group, and everyone made it home alive.

By the end of the week, I felt and looked more like the undead than a survivor.  There were dark bags under my eyes, I was moaning, and I think I was even dragging one leg.

Just Call Me Trashy

The boy and I were out running errands over the weekend, and we ran into Belk to buy a Father's Day gift for Dan/Daddy.
If you aren't from the South, you may not be familiar with the Belk.  It's a department store that has been around since the dawn of time.  Well, maybe it hasn't been around that long, but I remember my teeny tiny small hometown having a Belk store before we had much of anything else.  Even McDonald's.

The checkout lines in our Belk men's department were a mile long, so we found a half-mile long line in the women's department.  We also apparently got in line in front of the Fashion Police from 1937.

A group of 4 senior ladies behind us began to chat about the long lines.

"I remember back when you went to a department store, you had one sales person all to yourself.  They brought you clothes to try on, and they knew what looked nice."

Another one chimed in,
"I'll bet that salesgirl was dressed up, too.  They knew how to dress up for work back then."

Then the next one piped up,
"I can't get over how these young folks dress these days.  Especially in church!  They don't even wear pantyhose anymore!"

Now remember, I have a 14 year-old boy standing with me.  At this point in their conversation, we had stopped talking to each other and completely tuned in to them.

Grandma #4 joined in,
"I'm just glad they are coming to church, even if they don't have on pantyhose."

"Well I remember my mama saying a lady always wears pantyhose.  Not wearing pantyhose was just trashy."

At this point, I said a silent prayer of thanks that pantyhose aren't the standard anymore.   I'm always thankful to avoid that nylon prison of torture... especially in Summer.

The commentary continued.
"People just don't know what looks nice anymore."

"It's hard to find anything that looks decent."

"And then you have to stand in a long line to pay for it."

When it was finally our turn to pay, the boy was purple from holding in his laughter.  I wasn't far behind him.  We paid, and left the 4 Grannies to solve the rest of the fashion world's problems.

Only in the South can four total strangers bond over the trashy lack of pantyhose in our society.

I only hope they don't see me on Sunday morning... without my pantyhose.