I’m hoping this week won’t be so ridiculously busy & I can find a brief moment to catch y’all up on what it is I’ve been up to [starting with long-since-past vacation … gawd!] Wish me luck.
Look what I’ve found! A moment to write you. September 28, 2008
Please, don’t feed the bears September 4, 2008
And also, his shorts are not as short as they appear :::shiver:::
I’m all over the place in this one August 25, 2008
I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last post, but we’ve been busy beavers over here. And that is because following vacation [which, incidentally, I plan to post about photo-essay style at a later time, and that time being when I find the time to upload my pictures to the computer].
And speaking of photos, I would be remiss not to share this awesome deal from Walgreens with you:
Here’s hoping that comes across as a clickable link.
Do you ever get startled by a glare in your glasses? Ha! Like, out of the corner of your eye you’ll see a flash of light that looks like something just shot past you & you’re all, “Whoa! What the heck was that?” No? Maybe its just these stupid BIFOCALS. Whatever.
I could look this up, because I’m researchy like that, but in an attempt to save time, do y’all have any suggestions for rawhides that don’t become soggy throat plugs when chewed? Because my dogs lives are at stake here.
I think she’s talking about me.
Is anyone else sad that summer’s almost over? This is my summer of decent TAN [well, by pale white-girl standards anyway]. Why must you end? And back to school. Ugh! Back to school means HOMEWORK and homework equals stress. Because homework results in grades. Grades that are important and for a 15 year old … also future-determining! Ack. Plus it also means that instead of leisurely morning routines [because said beautiful children are still sleeping during leisurely morning routine], that mornings will now entail assuring that 15 year old is up, dressed halfway presentable & out the door by 6:20 [I repeat, “Ack”] and that 8 year old is up, dressed, fed, has teeth brushed, that backpack contains all necessary papers, permission slips and chapstick and is on the bus BEFORE finalizing self to get out the door in a timely manner to arrive at job-with-added-responsibilities at an acceptable hour.
[Shoot! Look at the time. It’s 1:25 a.m. I have to get to bed.]
I’ll be back soon with more on these topics AND Vacation: A Photo Essay. Until then, back to school, we spit on you. And then, we sing John Mayer.
Busy, busy, dreadfully busy August 6, 2008
Here’s the scoop:
1. I am alive.
2. Thank you for asking.
3. Things were very busy.
4. Oh, wait. They still are.
That’s … pretty much it. Hello.
Me = Being consumed whole by new job and lots of other activities, but
Me = Still loves you. Really.
You = Patient. And also,
You = Good looking. Did you get a haircut? Is that a new shirt? Because
You = One sexy beast. I’m just saying.
Anyway. Y’ALL. This new job? The one I haven’t told you about yet. The one where I am when I go to work in the morning? It is really BUSY. They want a lot of this “work” business, and apparently it will calm down soon, once I learn what the heck I am doing, but right now I am hoping someone will just show up and KILL ME ALREADY because Hoo Boy. Ow, with all the work and learning. It hurts my head.
I’m only human, Boss People. I know I look capable; that is an illusion! In reality, I don’t have the faintest idea of what I am doing! Shh!
But … uh. I couldn’t allow that last post to remain for one minute more, so here I am [Hi!] typing drivel.
Because I love you. So it’s loving drivel. Don’t hate me today. I JUST CAN’T HANDLE IT.
Okay, see, there was this thing? And then there was this other thing, and the net result of all of these things, and all of the SHEER PANIC and TERROR inspired by these things, and then, there was this:
I’m taking on a new role at work.
See how I said that? Taking on a new role? I’m wondering if that accurately conveys how I’m not just changing roles, but in ADDITION to the role I already have, I am “absorbing” a whole NEW role? One that another human being used to do. As their job. Like, as their ONLY job. But now I’ll be doing it, on top of the one I already have. See that? Two jobs at once. And contrary to how I seem to be freaking-the-heck out about it. I AM happy about this! Wheeeeee! [See? Happy.] I had even verbalized before how if I had to have another job, this would be the one I’d want to have. But I will admit that I am suffering from a harsh case of lack of confidence in my own abilities, I have concerns people. Everyone else is completely confident in me. Thanks. You’re sweet.
I’ll let you know how that’s going.
And also, there has been the perpetual stream of evenings [occasionally even followed by some early mornings] parking cars at the ATP Tennis Tournament. This is a requirement of the Mish kids & their parents [the acting group Ashton is in]. They make a lot of money from it. It’s a good cause. I keep telling myself that. Anyway, the ATP tennis tournaments, wherein I have been berated, yelled at, shot the stink-eye, and I’m also pretty sure one lady told me to blow something out of somewhere. Because she wasn’t handicapped and I was working the handicap lot and apparently I take my job very seriously.
On another occasion I was working the golf lot [which means making sure that if someone pulls in there that they are, in fact, golfing & not walking over to the tennis tournament. It’s the principle, people.] So a man pulled in and I’m all, “Good morning sir, what are you here for?” [NOTE: Do NOT ask them if they’re golfing, because, y’all, PEOPLE LIE!] So he’s all, “YES, is that ok with yooooooou?” “Um, yes. [jerk] But, if you’re golfing, how come you don’t have on a collared shirt?” A-HA! SUCK IT! I’M A GOLF LOT GENIUS! “I’m going to put it on after I shower. Ohhhhhh,kkkkkkkkk?” <blink> “Ohhhhhh,kkkkkkkkk”, I responded. And then, cinching up his face as if he’d just got a whiff of a dirty diaper filled with Indian food he went, “Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!” <blink blink> “Well, you have a good day sir. And also, I hope for your sake that you walk in with clubs or you’re getting towed. Have a nice day.” <smile>
Did I mention that we’re leaving on Sunday for vacation? Are. Which will also entail getting our very bad dogs to the vet to be kenneled, except for Buster Brown, who is fortunate enough to be spending the week with my dear friend Holly & her girls. He’s being evaluated for adoptability so he’s been given instructions to “turn on the charm”. There will be a hefty price to pay for bad behavior. He’s been warned [wink].
Working, learning, parking, shopping, delivering, planning and packing. What in the heck am I doing on the computer!?
Once I have mastered ADDITIONAL ROLE ABSORBTION, completed infinity hours of parking cars & survive family travel, they should probably name a holiday after me, and I think we should all take it right now, no matter where we live and whether or not we like Andy Griffith, I think we should look past our little differences and just take a nap.
Anyway. I love you. And I will be back in a few days, with something interestinger. Hugs!
Class of ’88. The remix. July 16, 2008
(I was actually going to name this entry “HHS 2; Electric Boogaloo,” but know what? That title was way funnier when I thought of it yesterday. Which was Tuesday. But now it is 4:55 on Wednesday, and it’s not nearly as funny anymore. And, I guess it’s possible that it wasn’t even funny to begin with except for to me, but … wait, is that Monk on HULU right now? GOTTA GO.) OH DEAR LORD, WRITE THE STORY ALREADY, WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU? And this concludes my paragraph analyzing a five-word title, guess who hasn’t slept much the past few days, THANK YOU.)
But, anyway. Oh, hello! HI THERE!
So ANYWAY, Saturday was my 20 year high school class reunion [BIG UPS! Hamilton High Class of ’88!] And it was … you know. Interesting.
We went with my dear friend Kathryn, whose very own husband is right now in Kuwait serving our country [shout out to SCOTT!] The reunion was at a sort of out-of-the-way [READ: Boonies] VFW hall so Harold decided to utilize the handy-dandy GPS function on his phone. Which would prove very useful as none of us knew where the heck we were going. The phone would tell us in it’s sexy voice, “Prepare to turn left in .5 miles.” and “continue on this here country road for .4 miles.” I asked if it would tell me if I’d made a wrong turn & he assured me it would. And it did. It guided us there accurately all along the way … yeah, all the way PAST the place. We drove right by it & it said NOTHING. Likely because it saw the place & was all, “On second thought, y’all should just keep driving. You should definitely not go to that seedy place.” But it didn’t give us that warning, so we turned around & went back.
ANYWAY, after trying 3 or 4 doors that wouldn’t let us in [how the heck did everyone else get in there!] we asked some helpful smokers. OF COURSE. The door with the handwritten ‘HHS’ sign on it. At the back of the building. Right.
Inside, we stopped at the registration table to, um, register. This is also when Harold spontaneously combusted. Seriously. He burst into flames because it was like 90 degrees in there. He doesn’t tolerate heat well. Ha. And ALSO this is the exact time that a set of unidentified lips came directly at my face, landing precariously close to my mouth! [Hi, Tweeter] Fortunately subsequent meetings & greetings with friends were not so accost-y.
The good news is that I saw many fabulous friends that I haven’t seen in years and I was very happy to see them & catch up & hear how they were doing and about their families and reminiscing. That was so awesome. The bad news was: THEY DON’T SERVE WINE AT VFW HALLS. Did y’all know this? And also, martinis. No martinis. And we needed them, y’all, because YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW.
I truly thought that 20 years might maybe lend way to a little maturity. Perhaps some decorum. Some civility. And indeed, for some, it had. But now, have y’all heard about this? Because I will be happy to tell you ALL about it, namely, that it involves thong underwear, AND AN OPENED CONDOM, and also, right on the floor of the facility, and incidentally, there was a BOOB FLASHING, right in front of everyone, in front of my HUSBAND, and homemade pre-packaged Jell-o shots AND beer drinking to the tune of they ran-the-heck out[!] and people, those may be a signs of the apocalypse, right there.
So, anyway. We’re standing there, my HUSBAND, and MYSELF, gazing at the floor staring at a pair of thong underwear & a condom and thinking, “How did this happen, exactly?” and also, “Oh my heavenly GOD,” because WHAT? Holy WHY? Surely someone had to realize that suddenly … they’re commando! I never, ever want to be in the same room — nay, not even the same ZIP CODE — with a situation that leads me to ask these kind of questions. This is not RIGHT people! 20. YEARS. Because somebody was all, “You know what would be funny? Planting a pair of panties & a condom. HA! I’m a comedic GENIUS!”
You know, I could go on and on about the shenanigans that went on, but in all actuality, we had a really good time [and by “we” I probably mean “me” because let’s be honest, when you don’t know anyone — I’d say my chances of having fun were slighly higher than Harolds] Although, he really seemed to be enjoying himself when he was standing outside holding not just my BUT ALSO Kathryn’s purse and also snapping pictures of a group of clowns – [some of whom had depleted the beer!] – try to organize for a group photo before the heavens opened up, threatening to drown us all. That was probably fairly amusing to watch, so I’m thinking he enjoyed that part more than I did because I was standing in my cute new shoes which, it turns out, are more cute than comfy.
It was also pretty cool that quite a few folks told me that they read my blog. Awwww. Bless your little hearts! And then they said, ” … so if you could update more than once a month.” Ugh. I GET IT. I’ll work on that. I promise. But with things going on like, “Parent dessert night” [I’m not even kidding you guys. I’m going to that tonight!], time is scarce.
So, the class reunion was fun. I can now use the words:
in the same sentence.
And I definitely could not before I went. So look at all I got for $65!
Y’all have a good week, and I will try to find a minute and be back with some actual stories about something or other. Until then, if you’re a HHS class of ’88 alumni lurker … you need to HOLLA! Let me know if I missed anything. I really hope someone took pictures!
Pet Sitting Guide [or how to deal with way too many dogs who refuse to be housebroken!] May 22, 2008
[Forgive the wonky formatting. I don’t know what’s going on there …]
Tomorrow, the fam and I are going camping with the Sexton’s & her brother’s family, for the weekend. And you may already know this, but camping entails a LOT of preparation y’all! So, while I don’t have the time to get in to it right now, I did find it funny that when I sat down to write out pet sitting instructions to leave my Mom for our three, small, very bad dogs, I realized something. Not only are they bad, but they’re really high maintenance too!
Pet Sitting Guide [or how to deal with way too many dogs who refuse to be housebroken!]
Let dogs out OFTEN.
Let dogs out prior to leaving & immediately upon returning.
Give them a treat when they come in [1 a piece; either a frozen green bean or biscuit. Green beans sparingly unless you want to walk around little green land mines all weekend.]
If a #2 accident occurs, please pick up & flush or chuck into the yard. Clean up of a #1 accident is at your discretion. We would appreciate if you would drop a paper towel over the accident, step on, and then discard it. Understandably, if this is outside of your realm of comfort, just leave it. If this were the case, tiny “Wet Floor” signs would be appreciated so we’ll know where to clean up. [Just kidding, of course … but we will need you to point them out].
Max gets a full cup of food.
Millie gets ¾ cup of food.
Buster Brown gets ½ cup of food.
At dinner time only, add a serving spoon full of the organic wet food to each of their bowls [sort of adjust the amount according to whose bowl you’re filling ie. large scoop for Max, slightly less for Millie, rounded spoonful for Buster Brown. I usually cut it into the dry food with a fork & knife but if this is above & beyond the call of duty, just plop it on top.
The little dogs eat in their locked cages. Max eats in the dining room.
Let them all out about 15 minutes after they’re done. Make sure they actually leave the porch to go potty. This is roughly how long after they eat before they need to shit.
Feed roughly at the same times you’d feed yourself. Breakfast, lunch & dinner.
Max can sleep with you but the little dogs need to sleep in their cages. You can leave the gate down at this time.
Keep gate to upstairs closed whenever the puppies are out.
Enjoy your weekend!
Y’all have a wonderful, safe Memorial Day weekend! If I have the strength, I’ll tell you all about mine on Monday [possibly after shampooing the rugs.]