1. From your childhood, what do you miss most about summer vacation?
The way summer vacation seemed to start in late May and last until the end of July. Now it seems to get shorter and shorter.
Case in point... the boy gets out of school here June 14th. That is a crime. The bigger crime? He starts school in our new home on August 3rd.
(I'm not bitter at all.)
2. Are you going anywhere on vacation this summer?
Does "living in a hotel for an undetermined amount of time until we get a house" count AS A VACATION?
(I'm not bitter at all.)
3. What foods do you like to barbecue?
Does this mean "grill out" or actually cover in BBQ sauce?
I'll play it safe and say chicken.
4. How do you celebrate the fourth of July?
Usually grilling out. There are always amateur fireworks displays, as well.
5. What’s your favorite beverage to drink in the summertime?
Half-sweet tea. Or lemonade. Or anything from Sonic.
6. What movie are you looking forward to seeing this summer?
Oooo. I could make a list. But then you would all call me a 12 year-old boy again.
"Harry Potter" without a doubt.
7. In the car: windows down or AC?
Mercy. That makes me anxious just thinking about it.
AC, please. Not a fan of sweating, 90+ degree weather, or being hot.
8. Have you ever had a summer fling?
Just a few crushes on the cute boy at the beach or at camp. Nothing major.
9. Do you wear sunscreen?
Have you seen my legs?
I am a sunscreen Nazi. The boy runs in terror. Even Dan/Daddy rolls his eyes in disgust when it's time for us to be in the sun, because he knows what he's about to hear.
"Put on sunscreen!"
10. Do you have any favorite summertime activities?
The beach.
The beach.
The pool.
Snow cones/shaved ices.
and
NOT waking up to make a ham sandwich at 7:20 am.
(I am not bitter at all.)
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
M-O-V-E. It Really Is A Four-Letter Word
It's not the kind of four-letter word that usually gets people in trouble.
But, in my opinion, it's just as bad.
I may or may not have mentioned lately that we are on the verge of another move. Courtesy of the US Government.
It is our life, and we have come to accept it, and we've learned a lot about actually surviving it.
But that doesn't mean we always like it.
Saying all the "goodbyes" is bad enough, but dealing with the other "stuff" makes my left eyeball twitch.
I woke up at 5:00 am this morning thinking about how I need to buy cardboard mailing tubes to pack some of the boy's wall decor into... so the movers don't squash it all.
We have started taking apart some of the approximately 702 Lego sets that are sitting around his room. We put them into ziploc bags and into plastic containers... so the packers don't dump them into one big box. And label it "Coffeepot."
In the garage, there are 17 cans of spray paint, bottles of plant sprays, a propane tank, container of bubbles, and other "highly dangerous" things that packers won't pack and movers won't move.
The good thing about moving is it forces you to deal with all the junk.
The bad thing about moving is it forces you to deal with all the junk.
Have I mentioned we've been told to move, but we don't have a house?
We are on the "waiting list" for a house at our new base, but we may not get one in time for school to start.
So we may have to rent an apartment.
Or we may have to get off the waiting list and find a house somewhere else.
Good times.
Also on my list:
1. register the boy for school (and this depends on the house situation)
2. find somewhere to sign the boy up for soccer or football
3. find a guitar teacher, new dentist, new hair stylist, etc.
4. change our address on 400 mailing lists
5. spend a very short summer living with and visiting with family
6. eat up all the food in the house... packers and movers won't deal with that either
7. drag a cat and her litter box all over the Southeast
8. find a new church
9. live in a hotel/extended stay for way too long
10. lose my mind
So if I sound a little negative, please forgive me.
I am in the process of dismantling our lives and setting them up someplace else.
And saying goodbye to our friends.
Such is the life of an Army wife.
But, in my opinion, it's just as bad.
I may or may not have mentioned lately that we are on the verge of another move. Courtesy of the US Government.
It is our life, and we have come to accept it, and we've learned a lot about actually surviving it.
But that doesn't mean we always like it.
Saying all the "goodbyes" is bad enough, but dealing with the other "stuff" makes my left eyeball twitch.
I woke up at 5:00 am this morning thinking about how I need to buy cardboard mailing tubes to pack some of the boy's wall decor into... so the movers don't squash it all.
We have started taking apart some of the approximately 702 Lego sets that are sitting around his room. We put them into ziploc bags and into plastic containers... so the packers don't dump them into one big box. And label it "Coffeepot."
In the garage, there are 17 cans of spray paint, bottles of plant sprays, a propane tank, container of bubbles, and other "highly dangerous" things that packers won't pack and movers won't move.
The good thing about moving is it forces you to deal with all the junk.
The bad thing about moving is it forces you to deal with all the junk.
Have I mentioned we've been told to move, but we don't have a house?
We are on the "waiting list" for a house at our new base, but we may not get one in time for school to start.
So we may have to rent an apartment.
Or we may have to get off the waiting list and find a house somewhere else.
Good times.
Also on my list:
1. register the boy for school (and this depends on the house situation)
2. find somewhere to sign the boy up for soccer or football
3. find a guitar teacher, new dentist, new hair stylist, etc.
4. change our address on 400 mailing lists
5. spend a very short summer living with and visiting with family
6. eat up all the food in the house... packers and movers won't deal with that either
7. drag a cat and her litter box all over the Southeast
8. find a new church
9. live in a hotel/extended stay for way too long
10. lose my mind
So if I sound a little negative, please forgive me.
I am in the process of dismantling our lives and setting them up someplace else.
And saying goodbye to our friends.
Such is the life of an Army wife.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Stink, Stank, Stunk
It was super-de-duper hot in Chapel this past Sunday.
Like "Africa hot."
The hour of Sunday School was torture. My knee pits were dripping.
It was hot enough for me to feel the need to go to the bathroom and spray a little body spray. I didn't really sense a deodorant failure occurring; I was just paranoid. And hot. And have I mentioned hot?
When I got back to my seat, the boy made a nasty gagging face, pinched his nose, and scooted 4 feet down the pew away from me.
"What's the matter with you?" I whispered in that shouty little whisper that you use when you can't yell.
"You stink," he said.
"I just sprayed perfume!" I said.
"I know, and it's too strong!" he shout-whispered back.
(For the record, I am not a perfume fanatic. I like light scents, and I know how he feels about overpowering smells.)
So I asked, "What are you going to do one day when the pretty little girl you adore is wearing perfume? Are you gonna gag and tell her she stinks?"
"NO!" he shout-whispered. "Her perfume will smell good; not like...
old-lady perfume."
Well then.
I can't wait to buy his first real girlfriend a gift. A pretty little bottle of perfume.
Exactly like mine.
(Bwwwwaaaaaahhhhhhhaaaaaa.)
Like "Africa hot."
The hour of Sunday School was torture. My knee pits were dripping.
It was hot enough for me to feel the need to go to the bathroom and spray a little body spray. I didn't really sense a deodorant failure occurring; I was just paranoid. And hot. And have I mentioned hot?
When I got back to my seat, the boy made a nasty gagging face, pinched his nose, and scooted 4 feet down the pew away from me.
"What's the matter with you?" I whispered in that shouty little whisper that you use when you can't yell.
"You stink," he said.
"I just sprayed perfume!" I said.
"I know, and it's too strong!" he shout-whispered back.
(For the record, I am not a perfume fanatic. I like light scents, and I know how he feels about overpowering smells.)
So I asked, "What are you going to do one day when the pretty little girl you adore is wearing perfume? Are you gonna gag and tell her she stinks?"
"NO!" he shout-whispered. "Her perfume will smell good; not like...
old-lady perfume."
Well then.
I can't wait to buy his first real girlfriend a gift. A pretty little bottle of perfume.
Exactly like mine.
(Bwwwwaaaaaahhhhhhhaaaaaa.)
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Dear 10 on Tuesday, I'm Back
Roots and Rings is the place to participate...
Participating is what I can do today, because there is no need for a camera.
Mine's still dead.
1. Have you ever used Craigslist?
Yes. I bought 2 very adorable red bar stools from a lady in town. Oh, and a coffee table from a girl here on post (base).
I think my mom warned me of attackers when I told her about my cute bar stools and coffee table.
2. Can you sew?
Yep. Enough to make curtains or crafty things, but not clothes.
3. Do you pour syrup on your pancakes or dip your pancakes in the syrup?
I am a "drizzler" of syrup. I don't like soggy pancakes.
4. Rain storms: Love them or hate them?
Love, love, love rain. Hate, hate, hate the storms that come with lightning and hail and wind. I used to be ok with them, but we dodged one too many tornadoes during the years we lived in Alabama. Now, storms make me jumpy. Like my cat.
5. Do you like swimming?
Love it. It's probably my favorite form of exercise because it doesn't seem like exercise. I hate exercise.
6. What kind of drink do you order at Sonic?
I like to keep it exciting. Either un-sweetened tea with peach, un-sweetened tea with strawberry, Coke Zero with lime, Coke Zero with vanilla, or cherry limeade.
I think I see a stop at Sonic in my near future.
7. Are you funny?
In my mind, yes.
The boy thinks I'm a riot, and Dan/Daddy laughs at me now and then. Most of my pals would say yes, I think.
8. At what age will your kids get cell phones?
I used to say 14. Odd arbitrary number, I know.
But, seeing as how I love to eat my own words...
The 12 year old has one.
My reasoning? He is at the age where he's spending more time away from us than with us. I want him to be able to get in touch with me if he needs to.
Also, the boy and I are a 2-man team most of the time around here, and we need to be able to communicate when Dan/Daddy is away.
Why just yesterday, I called him on his phone while he was off playing in the woods after school. I'm sure it put a cramp in his outdoor adventuring style.
9. What’s your favorite vegetable?
Lima Beans. I can hear 29 people gagging.
I also like all forms of lettuce. And I would say tomato, but is it really a fruit?
10. Were you a Girl Scout?
Yes. Only for a little while, and I wish I'd stayed more involved.
Have a wonderful Tuesday, and please say a prayer for the people in Joplin, Missouri. I cannot imagine the heartbreak.
Participating is what I can do today, because there is no need for a camera.
Mine's still dead.
1. Have you ever used Craigslist?
Yes. I bought 2 very adorable red bar stools from a lady in town. Oh, and a coffee table from a girl here on post (base).
I think my mom warned me of attackers when I told her about my cute bar stools and coffee table.
2. Can you sew?
Yep. Enough to make curtains or crafty things, but not clothes.
3. Do you pour syrup on your pancakes or dip your pancakes in the syrup?
I am a "drizzler" of syrup. I don't like soggy pancakes.
4. Rain storms: Love them or hate them?
Love, love, love rain. Hate, hate, hate the storms that come with lightning and hail and wind. I used to be ok with them, but we dodged one too many tornadoes during the years we lived in Alabama. Now, storms make me jumpy. Like my cat.
5. Do you like swimming?
Love it. It's probably my favorite form of exercise because it doesn't seem like exercise. I hate exercise.
6. What kind of drink do you order at Sonic?
I like to keep it exciting. Either un-sweetened tea with peach, un-sweetened tea with strawberry, Coke Zero with lime, Coke Zero with vanilla, or cherry limeade.
I think I see a stop at Sonic in my near future.
7. Are you funny?
In my mind, yes.
The boy thinks I'm a riot, and Dan/Daddy laughs at me now and then. Most of my pals would say yes, I think.
8. At what age will your kids get cell phones?
I used to say 14. Odd arbitrary number, I know.
But, seeing as how I love to eat my own words...
The 12 year old has one.
My reasoning? He is at the age where he's spending more time away from us than with us. I want him to be able to get in touch with me if he needs to.
Also, the boy and I are a 2-man team most of the time around here, and we need to be able to communicate when Dan/Daddy is away.
Why just yesterday, I called him on his phone while he was off playing in the woods after school. I'm sure it put a cramp in his outdoor adventuring style.
9. What’s your favorite vegetable?
Lima Beans. I can hear 29 people gagging.
I also like all forms of lettuce. And I would say tomato, but is it really a fruit?
10. Were you a Girl Scout?
Yes. Only for a little while, and I wish I'd stayed more involved.
Have a wonderful Tuesday, and please say a prayer for the people in Joplin, Missouri. I cannot imagine the heartbreak.
Friday, May 20, 2011
I've Gone Looking For The Fountain Of Youth
If anybody needs me this weekend, I'll be at the movies...
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Sneezing Animals and Broken Cameras
The little zoo we took our family to over the weekend was the coolest place. It's made up of all "rescued" animals. The people that own it/work there/take care of the animals are the most kind-hearted people.
For the record, I asked Dan/Daddy if we could have a rescue zoo when we grow up, and he said no.
We had a chance to pet a baby wolf, we fed some monkeys, we saw the tiniest baby rabbit I have ever seen, and we started a barnyard riot.
Well, actually, my sis-in-law started the riot.
I was just the riot's victim. (And I am not referring to the dropped camera. That's another separate incident.)
We bought food for the animals as we entered the zoo, and by the time we got to this particular pen, the bag was empty.
That didn't stop this one goat. Or my sis-in-law. He wanted to eat the bag, and she sweetly obliged.
"Wow lady. Are you really gonna let me have this?"
"Oh my word. This is so much better than that dumb food you were feeding me."
"Gimme the bag, chic. The whole bag, I say."
"Thanks, people. Sorry fellas... none left for ya'll."
And that's when the riot broke out. Goats and rams and cows and other horned critters were pushing and shoving and trying to get up close to the fence to see if they could eat some bag, too.
And then somebody sneezed. Not a person; an animal. The cow, I think. I'm not too sure who it was, because I was in the direct line of fire.
Yep. I got sprayed with barnyard snot mist.
We had to help my brother up off the ground and wipe the tears from his eyes. (Not because he was sad for me, in case you are confused.)
Despite the sneeze and the riot and the broken camera, I still love goats.
A grand time was had by all.
We ended the morning with lots of antibacterial wipes.
And here are the goats I was feeding right before the unfortunate camera drop.
Aren't they cute?
See that one in the bottom right corner? Don't let his adorableness fool you... he eats fingers.
For the record, I asked Dan/Daddy if we could have a rescue zoo when we grow up, and he said no.
We had a chance to pet a baby wolf, we fed some monkeys, we saw the tiniest baby rabbit I have ever seen, and we started a barnyard riot.
Well, actually, my sis-in-law started the riot.
I was just the riot's victim. (And I am not referring to the dropped camera. That's another separate incident.)
We bought food for the animals as we entered the zoo, and by the time we got to this particular pen, the bag was empty.
That didn't stop this one goat. Or my sis-in-law. He wanted to eat the bag, and she sweetly obliged.
"Wow lady. Are you really gonna let me have this?"
"Oh my word. This is so much better than that dumb food you were feeding me."
"Gimme the bag, chic. The whole bag, I say."
"Thanks, people. Sorry fellas... none left for ya'll."
And that's when the riot broke out. Goats and rams and cows and other horned critters were pushing and shoving and trying to get up close to the fence to see if they could eat some bag, too.
And then somebody sneezed. Not a person; an animal. The cow, I think. I'm not too sure who it was, because I was in the direct line of fire.
Yep. I got sprayed with barnyard snot mist.
We had to help my brother up off the ground and wipe the tears from his eyes. (Not because he was sad for me, in case you are confused.)
Despite the sneeze and the riot and the broken camera, I still love goats.
A grand time was had by all.
We ended the morning with lots of antibacterial wipes.
And here are the goats I was feeding right before the unfortunate camera drop.
Aren't they cute?
See that one in the bottom right corner? Don't let his adorableness fool you... he eats fingers.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The Day I Cannot Participate
It's that day of the week when I link up to Roots and Rings for some Ten on Tuesday fun. Today's list is a fun photo questionnaire.
But I can't play along today.
Because I broke my camera. Again. The new one. The one I've had less than 2 months.
I dropped it at the zoo on Saturday. I was feeding these adorable little goats, and one of them decided to partially ingest my finger. So I went to hand my camera to Dan/Daddy while I washed/GermXed my bloody fingers.
And I dropped the camera. Lens out and face down in a goat pen.
I am cursed when it comes to cameras.
I think the Lord is trying to tell me ...
1. to NOT buy the wonderful expensive beautiful-picture taking camera I dream about
or...
2. that I am a klutz
or...
3. both
Hopefully this week, I will post the cute pictures I took at the zoo right up to the moment of camera death.
It makes me feel better to blame the finger-eating goat.
But I can't play along today.
Because I broke my camera. Again. The new one. The one I've had less than 2 months.
I dropped it at the zoo on Saturday. I was feeding these adorable little goats, and one of them decided to partially ingest my finger. So I went to hand my camera to Dan/Daddy while I washed/GermXed my bloody fingers.
And I dropped the camera. Lens out and face down in a goat pen.
I am cursed when it comes to cameras.
I think the Lord is trying to tell me ...
1. to NOT buy the wonderful expensive beautiful-picture taking camera I dream about
or...
2. that I am a klutz
or...
3. both
Hopefully this week, I will post the cute pictures I took at the zoo right up to the moment of camera death.
It makes me feel better to blame the finger-eating goat.
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