This kid is weird

And completely uncool. Don't believe me? Just look up his interview with Jay Leno from tonight. As Mike put it, "he's so affected." I had to plug my ears through the interview so as to not go into severe embarrassment convulsions.  Sorry fans of Atticus Shaffer.  I think he's already a "has been" and he just got started in his career.

Code Words

Tonight's conversation with our daughter:

Farrah: Can I sleep with you guys tonight?

Me: No, tonight we're going to let you watch a movie in your room because we don't want to watch it in our room.

Farrah: Well, maybe I don't want to watch a movie tonight.

Me: Well, really, Mommy and Daddy want to have some privacy tonight.

Farrah: Oh, I KNOW MOMMY!!! I can watch my movie, and when you and Daddy are done having sssssprivacy, I can come in and sleep in your room. THAT'S A GOOD IDEA, HUH?!!

That's right, Farrah almost had a Freudian slip and didn't even know it. Also, when our IT guy, Jason and his girlfriend Sonja, came home. Farrah announced, "HI SONJA! HI JASON! AFTER MOMMY AND DADDY ARE DONE HAVING PRIVACY, I GET TO SLEEP IN THEIR ROOM!!!"

Pretty sure they figured through mine and Mike's loud laughter, that she didn't realize she meant "sex" and was announcing it to everyone (which in turn, I am doing here).

Also, another Farrah moment from this evening... Mike was using the bathroom tonight. All I could hear from Farrah was, "Ewwww. EWWWWW!!! Daddy is gross!!!"

She makes us laugh out loud. :)

Wedding March 3

No, I didn't forget to continue. I got busy. But I'm still working on putting this whole story together.

So, to continue...

Those who know us, know that Mike and I aren't super serious people when it comes to most things. We're pretty laid back and go-with-the-flow types. So when it was time to start picking out music, decorations, invitations, etc, I did so by keeping it light. I always knew that whenever I got married and whoever I married, we'd have certain music playing. I'd have to have Claire d'lune and Moonlight Sonata playing for sure. Those were my two favorite piano pieces I played while growing up (over and over and over because I never truly learned the endings). Also, I had to have a certain Lorena McKennit song playing because it was one of the most romantic songs I'd ever heard and I heard it back when I was a teenager. Since Mike wasn't pushing too much with involvement, the music was MINE. Those songs were going to be my "everybody take a seat" songs. Of course, our song to walk down the aisle was Canon in D. I cried every time I heard that song when it was in the scene from "Father of the Bride", so after I saw that movie 100 times, the choice had been made. But, being the good girlfriend/fiance/wife that I am, I knew we couldn't pull it all off with silly serious music. We planned to walk back down as Husband and Wife to the opening theme song of "Austin Powers The Spy Who Shagged Me". From the moment it was decided, we knew it was rad.

Mike and I had a moment driving in his truck and we were listening to some classic rock and a lil' Bon Jovi came on. They were playing "Bad Medicine". You know the song, "Your love is like BAD MEDICINE, bad medicine is what I need. Whoa, shake it up just like BAD MEDICINE, there ain't no doctor who can cure my disease." I mentioned to Mike, "Oh my god, wouldn't this song be hilarious to walk into the reception hall with this playing as we're announced as the new Mr. and Mrs. Mike Moody?!! We were laughing...but I was serious. And then it, too, was decided.

I spent a whole evening at my brother, Steve's house while he went over his entire music library. I was still listening to cassette tapes from the 90s in my Acura Vigor so my music selection was poop. I took down as many songs as I could think of that would be appropriate for a wedding and for dancing to. However, I started picking songs I thought were beautiful but later realized they were break up songs. Those wouldn't be needed. I also made sure I had my radio on in my car to hear whatever was new and old playing that I might like and always had some sort of scratch paper around to write down the title and artist if I could figure it out.

I ended up getting in touch with a Dj online (this was when the internet existed and had some decent websites, but mostly, people didn't know what the hell they were doing). My DJ was patient and cool, and most important...cheap. He was so great, he offered to do the music for the ceremony and for the reception and for the dance. I think it was about $350. Again, savings were important to me. He planned to bring two sets of equipment; one for outside and one for the reception hall. At the time Nora Jones was beginning to be popular and he hadn't heard of her. That was the only thing that made me leery of him. However, he purchased the Austin Powers soundtrack JUST FOR OUR WEDDING, so I bought him the Nora Jones CD and got him up with the current times.

On my lunch breaks, I would type out any and every single song that meant something to me, to Mike, to both of us, and to others, daily. Sometimes, I'd stay late after work typing out a menu of music and at times putting together an itinerary for when each and every song should be played. Crazy and controlling? Yep.

Okay, so that is the music portion and I'll continue with more soon. Tired...

Okay so that was the music find.

Time Line Error

Okay, if you read a couple of my posts that are kindarecent, you'll notice that Farrah somehow went from almost being 4 to being back in diapers. I had found some old blogs that I never posted so I went ahead and posted them about a month ago. Just so you know, Farrah has not gone backwards in her progress in school, and I know that Christmas is coming up and didn't happen last month. Just so we're clear and there is no confusion.

In Need of a Toilet

It's weird how your body reacts to things. I was sick last week and have been on antibiotics for who knows what. I guess I had a sinus infection, but it felt like strep throat combined with the worst headache of my life. I felt like I had two giant thumbs behind my eyeballs pushing them out of my face. That pain induced some vomiting, which in turn was the reason I was given the antibiotics. But I digress (like usual).

Well today, I've been feeling a little bit better. I was until I started the drive back to pick up Farrah from school. I had a lil' something brewing "downstairs" and the bubbling and gurgling in my guts began to make themselves known through standard cramping. I ignored the inevitable when I picked up Farrah and we discussed having lunch together. She suggested "Rice. Where the elephants are!" That meant driving South to Mukilteo for some Thai.

I had to plan...

Clearly, I had some evacuating to do. Where would I do it? At the little Thai restaurant? With Farrah in the stall with me eager to discuss my poop at our table for any and all ears to hear? No, that wouldn't do. My parents' house? Yes. I called my mom and explained my situation. I told her I was in dire need of a toilet to destroy. She wasn't too thrilled of the idea and actually tried to pawn me off to my grandma instead. What?!! This was an emergency! And how in the hell was I supposed to explain a 5 minute visit to my grandma that consisted of her and my dad watching my daughter run around while I annihilated her back bathroom? Nope. That was not how this was going to happen. I finally convinced my mother to allow me access to one of her toilets. She told me over the phone that I would have to use the "gross" bathroom, though. Oh well. I didn't care as long as my bowels had a destination that was not public, I was happy.

Here's where the body gets weird. I was now a good 5 minutes from my mom's house. But as soon as I hung up that phone, my body was more excited than I wanted or needed it to be. It needed to calm the eff down if I was going to make it! Ever hear of peaking? Or turtling? That was me. My back was jammed into my seat as far as it would go due to my massive discomfort. As soon as I pulled into the carport, I was walking funny. Oh yes, and then I had to take Farrah out of the car which involved her 30 pounds bumping up against my angry guts. Not cool. I wobbled to the house and my mom changed her mind as soon as she saw me and told me I could use her bathroom instead. The "clean" bathroom. I think it was more for her benefit than mine because it's clear in the back, as far away from where she was going to be as possible.

10 minutes later, all was right with the world again. I got to keep a little dignity with my daughter by not having to shit my brains out with her standing next to me in a public restroom and later, enjoy a decent lunch. Did I say dignity? Oh yeah, that was gone when Farrah farted very loud on a plastic booster seat and we laughed hysterically. Shortly after that, one of Farrah's famous man-belches exploded out of her mouth. Lunch was over at that point and I can say my dining experience was doomed from the word go.

This Generation

I've been meaning to write about this for quite sometime now, but have feared what the reprocussions might be. There could be some people out there that hate what I have to say, and some that might actually agree with me...

I love my Grandparents. I have never had anything but love and the deepest respect for them. I was raised that you respect your elders, including people that are only a few years older than me, because they still have just that little bit more life experience than I might have. The first time I ever spoke to someone who was older than me and in a manner that some might consider disrespectful (I even swore at him), I was 19. When I did it, I thought I was going to faint. However, it was a defining moment for me because it had to be done. To this day, I show respect to people that are older than me and make sure that I am always polite. I don't view this as a weak characteristic of mine, but actually as your basic maturity. If you ever read the books or hear the stories of "Our Greatest Generations", it is about the people who raised our parents. They are the people who you want to sit down with and talk for hours about what they went through during WWII and the depression. Out of all the presidents that have been in office while they were alive, who was their favorite? What types of things can they cook? All the things that if you asked some of your best friends, you wouldn't get near the interesting response.

Here is where I'm going with this. What has happened to today's generation? Why is it that I can walk through the mall and have kids (about 13 years old) walk around tossing out the "C" word as if it were the word "the"? Why can I walk around anywhere with kids that are anywhere from the age of 4 to 21, and no one knows how to say, "please, thank you, excuse me, etc"? It grosses me out. I do not enjoy going out to certain places anymore because I feel that I'm going to flip out on some of these assholes. I was walking with Mike and Farrah through the mall after getting Santa pictures done and there were older people all around us. However, behind us were some teenagers that were referring to a girl they went to school with as a c**t. I am not one who gets offended by words, unless they are used so poorly and with little to no creativity that it makes my blood boil. I spoke up to Mike loudly and said so as I watched the punks step back and walk in a different direction away from us. I had also taken the stroller into the bathroom area with Farrah so that I could change her diaper. While trying to get past some skater wannabes who decided to stand right in front of the entrance, I politely said excuse me. In response, the smallest one of the group said, "You're excused." He didn't expect me to stop and give him the look of, "I might just kill you" and say, "really." He looked very uncomfortable, as he should have. This little piss-ant punk, had a set of balls on him while around his buddies, but had I been in a real bad mood, I would have gone back to grab my husband to have a word with him. He wouldn't have been very happy.

What I'm trying to say is, we have to do something. I am a parent and I know some that read this are parents. I try so hard to listen to the things my Grandma tells me about when she was growing up and remember the things my parents taught me as I was growing up that I feel are important lessons and values to instill in my little girl. I know that society doesn't think the same way anymore and it seems like all we hear about is bad stuff on the news all the time about these kids. Isn't there a song out there about "Teenagers scare the shit out of me"? Yeah, pretty much. I feel it is our responsibility to help guide our kids to be the next best generation. Kids these days don't know what it means to be humbled, to be a part of something that is bigger than themselves, to not completely go for it on their own. I've named it the Generation of Entitlement. I've watched these kids receive a Mercedes for their 16th birthday and within a week toss a shitty attitude at their parents without any reprocussions. These kids walk around with a 'holier than thou" chip on their shoulder for the world to see, and still expect to get everything on their Christmas list or be allowed to go to their friends party or be given the job that should go to someone who has 3 more years experience than them. What has made these kids this way? I know that some feel that they want to be their kids' best friend and feel that they can't do that if they have to throw in discipline into the mix, but c'mon. Some of these kids deserve a little WWE Smackdown now and again.

My Grandma said to me not too long ago, "What is with the kids today? They are not going to make it should anything terrible ever happen in this world. Do they know how to sew, knit, grow a garden, can anything?" The answer is no, no, and no. Those are such important things to know, simply for the sake of learning the joy of accomplishment at a young age. These are the types of things that truly teach independence. Ugh, I'm rambling.

Farrah...

I haven't blogged in a while, but only because life has been, at times, a bit too overwhelming and not something to write about. I'll just leave it at that. However, while life has been going on, so has a lot in regard to my daughter. On December 18th, Farrah turned 2. The terrible twos. But, she began her terrible twos at the age of one, so I'm not really sure how that exactly works. Since we had the snow storm of the century, we couldn't exactly pull off a big party. We simply had her brothers over (that's right, brothers; another story, another time) and her Mommy and Daddy for presents and cake. It was nice, calm, and quiet. Except for when the sugar from the cake kicked in and she discovered her baby and stroller. Yikes. She pushed her baby in its stroller back and forth from the kitchen to the living room so many times until she ran out of steam. Ahhh, our little girl is two. She is sweet, kind hearted, loving, and so smart. I couldn't have asked for a better person to be made by me and her dad.

On December 24th, Christmas Eve, at the very last minute, on our way to my family's Christmas party, we took Farrah to see Saint Nick. It was an odd place we were told about to take her. We were told, he was real and, in fact, his real name was Santa Claus. He was located at a place in Marysville called, Santa's Den. When we arrived, I had a vision in my mind of what it was going to look like: Warm lighting, a beautiful Christmas tree (or about 5-6 of them), Christmas music in the back ground, pretty twinkling lights everywhere, perhaps someone selling cookies and hot cocoa, perhaps even seeing Santa; you know, something you'd find in Santa's Den. Not so much. It was located inside a mattress manufacturing place. The flurecent lights brightened up the whole place. You could hear a movie blasting through the room, there were fold out tables everywhere with papers and crayons and accompanied by fold out chairs (that could barely hold Mike's weight). Garbages were overflowing, there was one tree, kids were just hanging around and didn't look terribly excited, and the parents all had looks of dispair on their faces, including us. But worst of all, Santa was hidden in a little space behind a curtain. That space behind the curtain was actually Santa's Den. Where we were waiting was a loud, kinda decorated, low energy, mattress outlet with fold out chairs. The wait seemed to drag on forever and ever. I believe not just the kids were telling Santa what they wanted, but the adults were as well. Farrah looked so beautiful in her silver dress and her head band. What was missing from her darling ensamble? Shoes. We couldn't find her silver shoes anywhere, so ours was the ghetto kid in that place. When they finally called our number, we were allowed to go in to see the big man himself. Our friends were right, he was the real deal. Mike and I walked up with Farrah to meet him and she was hesitant (good girl - stranger danger) until Daddy shook Santa's hand to show her he was okay. She got up on his lap and was in awe. So were we. Sweetness oozed out of our child. Then she saw the camera. She knew what to do like a little professional. The pictures turned out amazing, and we were so happy that we had chosen that place to get her pictures done. Next time, however we will be arriving the day after Thanksgiving.

Girls' Day Out

Today was a fun day.  Farrah and I decided today would be a great day to get some of our Xmas shopping done.  We got a bit of a late start, so we thought we should get some lunch first.  Yay!  That ALWAYS means sushi for us.  Yes, my daughter has begun her mature tastes a bit early for her age.  It pretty neat.  I always order her teriyaki chicken and rice as a back up, but she usually eats half of my various rolls.  She has yet to have tried something I have eaten and spit it out.  She always asks for more!  We shared our lunch and she got plenty of practice using chop sticks.  She is a trooper, too.  Absolutely, my kid is NO QUITTER!!!  She worked through the difficulties of those two pieces of wood and only caved a couple times to use the fork to just turn around and go back to the sticks.  So cool.

After lunch, my favorite nail salon was conveniently located next door.  I had asked her if she wanted to get her nails done with me.  YESSSS!  I needed a small nail repair, so why not?  We walked in and I took her to the massive colorful wall of various nail colors.  What color?  PURPLE!!! Purple?  Okay.  She sat still the whole time and watched in awe as her nails were pampered and colored.  Not only that, Ryan took the time to design snow flakes on one of her thumbs and holly on the other.  Then she had to go sit by herself under the fingernail lamp.  For   A   Long   Time.  But she toughed it out.  Today she learned the agony of beauty.  Then it was my turn.  Did I do the same as her?  Of course I did.  How could I not?  She kept asking me if I was going to do purple, too.  "Are you going to do purple like me?!!"  Again, how could I not?  So, purple looks different on lady nails than it does on a two year old's nails (almost 3).  I look a lil' trampy.  I also have the holly on one thumb and snow flakes on the other thumb.  There was a gym member in there who thought it was great, a couple who came in, and of course, Ryan loved what we were doing, he charged a stupid awesome price.  Our hands are "pretty".

After that, we were off to get a couple things for a few people at Best Buy, and in came walking Mike and Alex; people I was maybe shopping for.  What are the odds?  Pretty good, since we live in a very small town.  So we were quick to get out of there and off to the next mission.  I can't tell what we did as it will be a wonderful surprise for everyone.  But...I can tell you it will be memorable.

Prayer

Most people who know me and Mike, know us to not be religious people. Don't mistake "not being religious" with not being spiritual. We are VERY spiritual people. We have chosen to raise our daughter down the same path as us which holds a strong focus on positive affirmations and having a sense of gratitude. We started with her having her gratitude rock. We basically explained that her gratitude rock holds all the things that make her happy in it and she just needs to give it a good squeeze and think of those happy things (Mommy, Daddy, Unicorns, Grandparents, Brothers, Ponies, School, Ice Cream, etc). It is also what I tell her to make her wishes with. All the things she dreams of having; all of her desires, I encourage her to squeeze her rock and make a wish. Since she doesn't know how to write down affirmations yet or know how to put together a vision board (which I'll help her put together someday soon), the rock was a good start.

Well, tonight, Farrah and I went to a Vietnamese restaurant to pick up some dinner. While we were waiting, Farrah noticed the little Buddhist shrine display with the candles, food offerings, and burnt incense. Farrah walked up to it and kneeled down on the floor in front of it. It was adorable and fascinating at the same time. She quietly asked me what it was. I knew how to answer, but not perfectly while people were watching her. So, I bent down and told her it's where she can make a wish. She immediately closed her eyes, squeazed her hands up to her face and over her eyes, sat still for a few seconds, then looked up to me and whispered, "I did it Mommy. I made a wish!" I was in awe with her innocence. When she was done, she noticed the little fountain in the restaurant with lots of coins. She knew what to do. I gave her a penny and she made yet another wish.

I expect to see a Pony or Unicorn in my front yard this weekend. She'll be an amazing projector.

Wedding March 2

After my dad made the announcement (and he did so, beaming with pride), I knew we were off to the races. Or at least I was. Planning the wedding would be my project and Mike's involvement would be bare minimum when I needed him. He wanted to participate in the big stuff, but not the fine details. I had never planned anything like this in my life so it was a pretty big deal. I wasn't even real sure where to get started. I bought a bunch of wedding magazines and used the internet the best I could. The internet then, wasn't anywhere near what it is today. So searching for ideas was a little limited.

First thing was first. Location. We had talked about different places to get married and had agreed that we wanted it outdoors, but we weren't quite sure where. I figured a golf course wedding would be beautiful because no matter where you look, the scenery was perfectly manicured. I had already gone out to lunch with Jen at New Castle Golf Course to see that location, but Mike and I weren't millionaires. On average, that place cost $50,000 for a wedding. No thanks. Then we remembered where we lived. Gleneagle Golf Course. I called the golf course and talked to the lady about available dates, what they offered, and prices. At first I was quoted $500 for the Reception Room. That alone was super cheap. Then I mentioned that I lived in the community and paid Homeowner Association fees and thought I should get some sort of a discount. Mind you, I said this teasingly and she offered me the Reception Room for $300 and threw in the outdoor tented area for free. This was awesome! Mike and I were penny pinchers and realistic with our funds. While we did fine financially, we had just bought a house. Our logic was this: people often get married before buying their home and ultimately their $50,000 that went towards a BIG PARTY could've actually gone toward the down payment on a home. We did things backwards and that ended up saving us.

So, now we had a location for both the wedding and the reception. Awesome! That made it feel real. Then I did the next big thing to make it feel real. It was time to look at dresses. My memory isn't perfect, but I know Jen was there with me and I'm pretty sure Mariah was too. I couldn't remember if Evie or Bree were there, though. In any case, my mom wasn't there for round 1 because she and my dad were on a cruise with Grandma and Auntie Dianne and Uncle Mike.

When I was first planning my wedding, I was thinking "keep it simple and cheap". That was just my way. So, I passed all the big beautiful dresses and went to the clearance racks. After trying on a few of them, I picked one that I loved. It was a spaghetti string blue diamond chiffon dress that flowed beautifully. It fit my boobs and then the rest of it hung in different layers. I put it on hold so I could have my parents look at it. They were paying for it, so I was going to keep it cheap. It was selling for about $100. Perfect! Well, not so perfect when my parents saw it.

Mike and I had originally thought we'd keep the wedding light and informal. We (or maybe I) figured maybe he'd wear some nice slacks and a lightweight dress shirt (kind of a Tommy Bahama look) and in flip flops. I thought I'd be wearing my blue diamond chiffon dress, with my hair down, no shoes, and carrying daisies. Picture a pretty hippie. That was my vision. The vision did not impress my parents. They thought my "let's keep it simple and cheap" idea was going a little overboard. Looking back, they were right. I wasn't having a backyard, BBQ, jeans and a t-shirt wedding...I was having MY wedding. The one and ONLY wedding I would ever have! So, my parents got me refocused when they arrived. They came along to the dress store and I modeled the chiffon dress. They weren't impressed ESPECIALLY when I said I wouldn't be wearing shoes. Mom went around looking for dresses in my size and told me to stop looking at the price tag. It bugged me because they were retired and I didn't want to have them spend retirement money on a dress that would be worn once. I'm quite practical.

I tried on a bunch and it came down to 2. One was a mermaid style dress that was very form fitting and the neck line came up around the sleeves. I didn't like it as much as they did. I didn't want to walk down the aisle looking 15 years older than I was (because that's what it made me feel like I looked). I didn't want to look super sexy either. Something about just wanting to look pretty was more important to me. So I picked the other dress. It was a strapless princess style dress. It was form fitted around the bodice and then it flared out a bit, but not too much. It had beading around the bodice and at the bottom of the dress. It was simple and elegant. It was perfect. The dress changed my entire vision of what my wedding would look like. I was now going to plan the rest of my wedding around my dress that I loved.

Wedding March

I'm going to do my best to remember as much as possible about one of the biggest, most important, and special days in my life. Tomorrow is my 8 year anniversary to my husband, Mike. There was a lot that I experienced up until the BIG DAY and I thought it might be fun to try and reminisce about what all lead up to that moment when I said, "I do." Many of the things I post here are for the people I care about to reflect on and try to remember right along with me. Also, someday I will lose my memory of some of the best years of my life due to old age and simple forgetfulness (and I might just end up remembering them so incorrectly that I end up telling someone else's story instead of my own). So, here is how it all began...

Mike and I had been together for 5 years. We'd had a strong, fun, loving, and intense relationship with its normal ups and downs, just like everyone else. However, there was something just a little different about us. We couldn't (and probably won't ever be able to) put our finger on it, but you would've noticed it when you knew us. We were just a different kind of couple.
In our 4th year together, it was time to sell our beloved Lynnwood home. The one we met in. The one the motorcycle was parked in the dining room leaking oil. The one the dogs decided to turn into their kennel. The one where we had a ghost that would give us the creeps from time to time. The one where Mike took a sledge hammer to the wall one fine morning to begin THE project. The one that we worked endless hours tearing things apart, rebuilding them, and eating Safeway's China Express or Wendy's...EVERYDAY. The one that was our first home together and where many memories were made and kept.
Once we sold the Lynnwood house to a friend, we found the house that was meant for us in little Arlington. At the time we were purchasing our house, the conversation came up that we should probably consider getting married. I couldn't buy a house with my "boyfriend" and think that my family would think that was cool. There's a bit of a traditional side to my family, and it is one that I've always valued and respected. I'd been living "in sin" for quite a while and thought, "this is a big step for me and I really want to marry this man." We talked about it and how I thought it was only fair that if we were to buy the house, I should have the same last name as him. I wanted to get married.
For as long as I can remember, Mike didn't want to get married. It wasn't something he ever wanted to go through again (the failing marriage part, that is). But I just didn't see myself ever being with anyone but Mike or ever WANTING to be with anyone else. I had done my shopping and found my perfect match. No refunds and no returns. I could live with that choice...forever. So, when we had finally moved into our home and were settled, it was just Mike and I lounging on our couch watching TV alone, when I brought up, "So, now that we have the house...are we going to make the next step? Are we going to get married, or what?" His response? "Sure. When do you think we should?" "Summer. I'd like an outdoor wedding" "Ooo, I like summer, but it can't be in June." "Agreed. How about August? We're pretty much guaranteed awesome weather anytime in August." "Cool. Let's look at the calendar. How about the 17th or the 24th?" "Those sound good to me." "Well it's settled! Looks like you get your wish, Kathy. We're getting married in August!"

This was such a funny conversation and so nonchalant. No big deal. But then I realized, I'd been patient, understanding, loving, and tenatious enough to get all that I wanted. The Moody name. The name of the man I love. How cool is that? We'd been together for so long, the conversation was like we were planning a little dinner party with some friends. Not the case. It ended up to be a bit bigger than that, but that's to follow. The conversation took place in October. We were already calling our parents to let them know. I remember Rita was at our house over by the pool table we had just put together when Mike told her. She was very happy. When I called to tell my parents, it was a different story. It wasn't that my parents weren't happy for us, it's just that they didn't believe me. My dad is VERY traditional. He's of the era of giving a girl his pin to show the world they were going "steady". What does that even mean??? Whatever. In any case, my dad's comment every time the topic came up, "You're not engaged until I see a ring on that finger. It's all talk as far as I'm concerned." Well, for Pete's sake! I finally got this man to agree that we were going to live "Happily Ever After" and NOW I had to get him to buy me a ring right after we bought a whole house?!! This could be a while before my family believed we were planning a wedding.

Christmas was coming right around the corner. Even thought I didn't have a ring, I was still planning my wedding. At the time, I was working at The Escrow Group in Everett. It was fun because I worked with ALL girls and they were so helpful and playful with ideas for me and my day. Also, one of the gals I worked with had the same kind of timeline with her boyfriend. They, too, had been talking about marriage and were looking at the same time as us, so it was fun bouncing ideas off of Lori. Every Christmas Eve, my extended family had a party where we ALL got together for gift exchanges, great food, and lots of company. Well, we had a roommate at the time, Eric George, who was going to be spending his Christmas with his family so he decided to give us our gifts on the 23rd before he headed out to be with his family. My gift was in a very large box. I began to unwrap it (all the while feeling a bit guilty because I hadn't got him anything). The box had various pieces of random paper, lint from the pool table, and a bag of old oranges. And at the bottom...a very pretty wrapped box. This was NOT from Eric. There was a small box at the bottom of the very large, very poorly wrapped heap of garbage. The small box was wrapped in thick red paper with flowers on it. Butterflies in my stomach. Tears in my eyes. I opened it and found the ring that I had imagined and always told Mike I had wanted. I love clusters of diamonds and white gold. It looked like a bunch of grapes (only they were diamonds). Mike gave me my engagement ring the day before our extended family Christmas party so I could brag away. :)

Now, my dad was thrilled. So thrilled, he made an amazing announcement and beautiful toast. He was all smiles and so happy for us. And now the planning was to begin...

Oops

Today, Farrah said a bad word. A very bad word. THE bad word. We were playing with the "Talking Tom Cat" application for the iPad. It's a cartoon cat that mimics what you say but in a silly high-pitched voice. So, Farrah loves to play with this thing and yell into it and make it repeat the things she says. And today she said something... terrible. She was hanging on her Dad's right shoulder and squealing into the Tom Cat and then it got kinda quiet after she said, "F**king idot, f**king idot." Oh my gawd. "What did you just say?" And she said it one more time and it took everything I had not to laugh and strangle her at the same time.

So, Mike and I pondered where on Earth she learned how to say that. This, unfortunately, was not the first time Farrah has dropped the eff-bomb. But this was her first time using it in this context. "Who do we know who says that? We know someone who says that all the time, don't we? I know it's a girl who says it. Who is she?" And then it hit us. Mike was the one who remembered who the foul mouth girl was.

"Kathy! It's YOU who says 'f**king idiot' ALL THE TIME!!!" Oh my God, it was me. I am the one she learned to say that awful statement from. It was from the countless times some "f**king idiot" cut me off on the road or someone who was out and about being a "f**king idiot". I always make some sort of announcement using those exact words to let myself know that they're out there. However, I clearly have forgotten that I have a passenger in my car 95% of the time. And she's LISTENING...

Dear Farrah July 2010

To my little girl:

I wanted to document some big things that have happened lately and some things I want to be sure I put in here before I forget.

First, we'll start with our trip to Kentucky. You were a very good girl on the trip. You, me, Daddy, and Alex went to visit relatives in Lexington, KY for the Thomas family reunion (on Grandma Rita's side). You had a lot of fun on the airplane. You got scared a couple of times, but it was probably from reading my nerves, so sorry about that. There were a couple of times that your dad and I got overwhelmed with work issues while on our "vacation" that made it so you and your brother were stuck in the hotel rooms, but you both made the best of it. You and Alex shared a hotel room that joined with ours. You two did so well and had a lot of fun together. :) That was awesome. Your brother, however, suffered through your constant need to watch "Ponies". You got to meet Uncle Russel, Aunt Betty, and Cousin Janey. You loved spending time with them and playing with Uncle Russel's toys. Those toys were so noisy and irritating, but you and Russel got a big kick out of 'em. You got to meet Aunt Thelma, Cousin Steven, Betina, Cody, Tara, and of Cousin Rita (how could you forget!) I'm pretty sure your favorite part of the trip was the visit to the Kentucky Horse Park. Unfortunately, for you and the rest of us, it was one of the hottest days we were there in the 90s and you were cranky and just a little difficult. But it was your favorite because you got to go on a horsey ride (pony) and you got to ride on Copper. You were about ready to call it a day when we were done at the Park, but then we decided to make you tough out a trek to Louisville in the car with Grandma, Alex, Daddy, and me. You survived and you behaved the best you could at the Louisville Slugger Manufacturer.
You swam! You swam all on your own with no fear!!! Our hotel had a nice pool outside and we covered you with plenty of sunscreen, put your floaties on, and let you loose. You learned how to kick your feet in the water and how to move your arms around to get you to move forward. You swam from me to your dad, back to me again, and even to Alex. You were so proud of your accomplishment and so were we. Swim lessons are right around the corner.

Your Daddy had his 43rd Birthday on June 26th and he was given the first steps to getting his pilot's license from your mommy as his birthday present. He was given 3 flight lessons along with some ground schooling and a couple of "how to" books. Daddy's first day of school was Friday, July 16th. He spent a good hour going through ground school and then thoroughly inspecting the airplane. Then he was off and running (or flying). I video taped as much as I could see; once he was in the clouds I had to pull out my book and start reading. So, Daddy is going to fly airplanes among the SEVERAL other things he already does...but this is something that put the biggest smile on his face than I've seen in a real long time. It's something he's always wanted to do and we get to watch him experience it. Aren't we lucky, Farrah?

I wanted to document some things that you say because before I know it, the "toddler way" you say things could be gone. You're starting school this Fall, which means people (including me and Daddy) will begin to start correcting how you formulate sentences or pronounce words.

Here's what you say:

"My love you...my don't want to...my want to wear a dress"

"Mama, can you get me a poon (spoon)? I like to pin (spin). "

"Butter-lye" (butterfly)

"Can I have dese? (these)"

"Oli-ler (Oliver), Leeshla (Elisha), Juleelan (Julianne)"

By the way, Happy Birthday to our nephew (Farrah's cousin), Oliver. He's 4 today! Yay!!!

You and I have planted a garden of vegetables. You are the "mommy" because you have to water them and care for them. Little do you know, when you're not paying attention, I'm doing my best to keep them alive. I'm certainly not known for having a green thumb. That being said, I hope they live all the way to the point of us getting to pull them and ultimately eat them. That's the whole goal.

Farrah, you've experienced some much needed discipline lately, but you've accepted your punishments with tact and grace. Sometimes, not as graceful as others, but you're starting to finally learn your boundaries. You've got so much personality, but that's not ever been anything that we haven't already known since day one. I love you so much. Sometimes one hug just isn't near enough for me.

Oops! Almost forgot!! For Father's Day, you had your pictures taken by Kelly and we put together a wonderful photo album book for your Daddy (you also made one for Poppy Boppy, too). You were difficult to photograph, but we ended up with some beautiful pictures of the true Farrah Raquelle Moody. The real YOU was captured. ;)

I'll have to upload photos later...

Been a While

Well, it's been quite some time since I picked this thing up. I thought I might do a little journaling. Nothing too special, but enough to catch things up. Jeff just turned 29, Steve is turning 36, and Mike is turning 43. Mom and Dad just celebrated their 40th Wedding Anniversary with one another this past weekend and that was incredibly special. In a time when it seems like everyone we know is splitting up, there are people out there that still know how to make it work. It's inspiring. Thank you mom and dad, for staying together and showing "through good times and bad" you are still each other's soul mate. It's a wonderful reminder why I wanted to get married from the time I was a little girl. And I'm glad I chose my soul mate to be the one to be my husband. :)

Farrah is performing in her first EVER recital on Sunday. She and 4 other little 3 and 4 year olds are going to be bees up on stage. I had the priveledge to watch her in her dress rehearsal last week. I can hardly wait for everyone to see. She's been going to her classes religiously. She only missed one when she was sick. I will be recording this. And I've got a good feeling it will be post-worthy.

On a gloomy note: There was a massive oil spill out in the Gulf Coast last month (we're inching up on 60 days now). Watching this on the news saddens me so much to the point of tears. I watch BP do nothing to save the Gulf, but everything to save their bank account. I hope to God that I can look back on this entry several years from now and say, "Do you remember that oil company named BP?" I hope that the government puts some SERIOUS pressure on them and soon. I also hope the families that have been affected file civil law suits. I also hope EVERY company that's been affected, fishery, charter company, wildlife preserve, every franchised gas station, and every vet sues them. And you know what else I hope? I hope there's an attorney to represent each and every single species of life that has been effected and sues BP for everything they've got. AND when BP goes to file for bankruptcy, the government says, "TOO EFFIN' BAD!!!" The people who lied, hid the evidence, gave false projections, and who were overseeing the project should spend the rest of their lives in jail.

Whew!

Okay, I look forward to some better updates soon. And there will be! :)

Just Gotta Critique It

Every time I watch these movies, I tell myself I need to blog about them and what bugs me about them. As I've posted in the past, Farrah demands that we watch the Harry Potter movies...constantly. But the acting! Ugh! It's severe OVER acting. I suppose you can only expect so much from children, but at some point aren't these kids getting acting coaches? Didn't anyone tell them they're terrible? In some cases, I think they lay the British accent on pretty thick. Don't get me wrong, I love the accent. I often talk to Farrah in British Peasant or Witch accent. She seems to enjoy it. Mike has even indicated that I'm quite good at it. I agree. Anyway, the boys aren't as bad in the movies as the girl, Emma Watson. Mind you, I'm not going to be an asshole and say that she's awful in every single movie, but c'mon. It gets to be painful after a while. I suppose I'd feel that way if I watched any movie EVERY...SINGLE...DAY.
So, anyway, Emma always seems to pronounce her lines with more passion than necessary and the words are spoken very harshly. She has a squeaky-pitchy sound in her voice when she's acting mad, or happy, or sad, or any emotion whatsoever. Yes, in the books Hermoine is supposed to be obnoxiously nerdy and a know-it-all, but all I'm catching is she likes to sound upset, no matter what the scene calls for.

Well, this may not have been my best work, but I knew at some point I'd have to complain about this.

End.

What's gonna work?

Team work!
I've noticed a disturbing trend in one of Farrah's favorite cartoons.  Child neglect.  Which cartoon?  Wonder Pets.  Pretty much every episode is based on a baby animal of one species or another that is in "twobbow" and it's a dangerous situation.  The Wonder Pets answer their can telephone and find a baby cow stuck up in a tree, a baby platypus clutching to a rock in a river for dear life, a baby duckling that can't fly South and it's starting to snow, and a baby chameleon that can't change its colors to camouflage itself from the soaring hawk that is wanting to grab it for lunch.

Of course, these stories always have a happy ending with the baby animals being saved, but then the REAL ending bothers me.  The story ends with a parent showing up at the end saying, "Oh Wonder Pets, thank you so much.  I was very worried about my baby chameleon".  Really?  Were you?  Because it looked to me like you were busy effing around behind that big rock while some little-kid animals were saving you baby's life!  What were you thinking?!! Your baby camelion was almost eaten by a hawk and you so conveniently decided to show up after someone else did your job for you?!!  Whatever animal parents.  You're all very irresponsible.  If you didn't want your ducklings, baby patypuses, calfs, or chameleon, you should've thought twice before deciding to start a family.

But thanks, Wonder Pets.  YOU'RE doing a great job.

Sooooo Annoying

As I've mentioned in past posts, I read a lot.  And if you read my blog, you know I write a lot.  Well, when I was growing up, my best subject was English/Writing (why do they call it English class?).  I pay attention to everything when it comes to grammar, spelling, etc.  I pay attention to it with my own work, but mostly I pay attention to it with other people's work.  As you read this, you might find some weird punctuation and unnecessary commas because I'm going to start bitching about other's deficiencies in this area.  So, look for some irony.

Anyway, when I send out job listings on Craigslist and people respond to it with an email to me and an attached resume, it is difficult for me to not want to toss some of them if people haven't taken the time to pay attention to such small details as making sure there is a noun AND a verb in a sentence.  I don't always write correctly on this thing because sometimes I write like I'm talking to someone.  However, when you're looking for a job when 10% of Americans are out of work, I would think you would want to be as professional as possible.  I'm just sayin'.  If an applicant can't even hit "spell check", it's a NO for me.  Also, if someone can't remember how to use there, their, they're, or then and than correctly, it makes me crazy.  It may not be a deal breaker, but it puts up read flags.  The jobs we have are usually detail oriented.  Okay, so that's my rant on people who write silly in general.  Here's what really irritates me...

Books.  There are authors that have actually been published and someone has been paid to EDIT their work, and I am able to find mistake after mistake.  This gets me SOOOOOOO pissed!  I get mad for several different reasons, but mostly because when I pick up a book to read, it's supposed to be relaxing for me.  It's a moment I get in my life where I get to escape, if only for 20 minutes.  I cherish those 20 minutes of not feeling like I'm having to over think until I find a mistake.  I will come up on a sentence in the book that I am engulfed in, and I find a type-o.  The book I'm reading now is notorious for it.  It is missing quotation marks when someone is speaking.  It is missing whole words!  Some of the words in the book are used wrong (like there, their, they're).  Also, what I am reading now is the third and final installment of the series.  The author got lazy and the writing style reflects her boredom and eagerness to wrap it up and move on to something new.  I hate this.  I hate it because it is in my nature to find these mistakes and fret about them.  I will be reading my book, page after page until I come up on one of these mistakes.  I will stop reading, go back and read the sentence over again, and I will edit it in my mind as it should have been written.  That is work.  I don't want to work when I'm reading for pleasure.  If I'm editing something that is for my job, that's okay because it is work.

So, there.  I had to get that off my chest because it has been bugging me for a while.  Now, I know that some probably and more likely than not, do the same thing when they're reading my blogs.  But I'm not a professional and I haven't hired anyone to go through and check my work (see, you're not supposed to start a sentence with the word "but"... I think).  Shit.  Now that I've written this, I'm going to be all insecure.  Oh well.

Dear: Chicken Of The Sea

I am currently tossing back a few Tums in order to ease the stomach ache that I know was caused by you.  I bought a can of you this evening with the hopes of making a delicious sandwich for dinner.  I even splurged and purchased the "All White Chunk Albacore in Water".  What happened to you and your quality?  I opened a can of your finest and went to drain the liquid out and the top of the can completely caved in causing the tuna-mush to ooze out the sides.  It was virtually impossible to "drain" anything out of the can.  I could go on forever about my disappointment, but describing it now is just making the stomach ache that much worse.  Needless to say, only a third of the sandwich was consumed and the rest was quickly rushed to the trash can outside.  I intend to take the second can I purchased and just throw it away. Leaving it for even a cat to eat would be cruel.

Nerd

I read a lot of books.  Sometimes I have read an entire series more than once (and in some cases, more than twice).  It started with my parents making me read Harry Potter instead of the 4 self-help books I had on my nightstand.  Best therapy I've ever had was in that entire series, followed by the Twilight series, the House of Night series, and now starting the Feather series.  I'm completely into anything that seems opposite from reality.  If my reality is one that is painful, stressful, boring, or even great, I love to read these books.  My life consists of many stress factors.  The books I read keep my imagination going, which I feel keeps me young.  (Don't argue this with me...it has to be why I'm so immature sometimes).  They also clear my mind of the daily regiment of pretty much every little thing that I might be responsible for.  Who can't love that?

So, with all of my reading I've done, I've also done a lot of writing.  Clearly.  Ultimately, I hope to write a novel of my own to include my own silly imagination and help others fall asleep with fun things on their minds at night.  To start, I'm looking at having this fun little hobby published.  I actually contacted a publishing company.  Geez, if anything, I could have a bunch printed off that would be for just family and friends.  Or, I can think bigger (which I always do) and think it can go beyond my loved ones.  My brother is published in the science fields for some of the research he did at the Fred Hutchison Cancer Research Center.  I'd like to be published, too, but without having to poke sharp objects at cute little pets.
Well, that's something I'm working on.

On another nerdy note, Farrah and I watch the Harry Potter movies... every... day.  She is a huge fan.  As am I.  It, at least, has to be playing in the background. She wants it to be playing in my car, on our main TV when we get home, and now while Mike is out of town, upstairs in my room EVERY NIGHT.  I don't mind too much because I love the movies, but it is getting to the point where she and I can both recite the lines.  Now, that's silly.  So, as I type this I'm watching the first Harry Potter with Farrah and when it's time for us to go to bed, we'll watch #2, #3, #4, and #5.  That's what we do.  Also, New Moon is coming out next week on DVD and I can hardly stand it!!!

Nerd.

That's Our Little Girl

Farrah has a little talent that she has had from the moment she arrived in our arms.  She belches like a man. Not just any man, but a Schmidt, Coors, or Miller man.  She doesn't burp.  No.  She doesn't pause, excuse herself, put her fist up to her mouth to block the air from escaping and blowing into your face, or keep her mouth closed so her cheeks fill up with her burp.  Uh uh.  She will be talking to us and in mid-sentence, a bellowing explosion passes her lips while telling us a story, and she simply continues and acts like nothing happened.  But it did, Farrah.  It did just happen.  I hope she doesn't think she can get away with that when she's in high school!  If she doesn't get a handle on her "gasses", life is gonna get a little awkward.  This is what could potentially be my daughter's future:

"So, tomorrow I have a geometry test that I BWWWWRRRRAAAAPPPPP haven't even studied for. 
I'm going to have to crunch if I want to pass it."

I'm not exaggerating.  She doesn't even laugh afterwards.  Usually, if something like that happens to someone, they're completely thrown off guard and dramatically apologize for being so "rude".  Luckily, I grew up around boys and my husband is still a boy, so I find this funny.  So, she doesn't laugh until she hears me laugh.  She doesn't realize how funny it is!  It's funny, because it's weird.  Who does that?  Who doesn't see that coming?  Or at least feel it coming?

Farrah, sweetheart, at least pretend to have some sort of shock on your face when this happens to you.  It's not a normal thing that people can just ignore.  Especially, your burps.  They are LOUD and LONG.  Impressive...yes.  Normal...not so much.

You're excused.

Geez-Lou-Eez

I cannot stand bad parenting.  There is no excuse for it.  I'm not saying I'm perfect at it, because I know that I'm not.  I am saying that, at times, I'm better than some.  Tonight was a great example of somebody's shitty parenting skills.  We have a new member at the gym who joined today with her 3 children, all daycare aged.  She had a baby boy (about 9 months old), a little girl (about 2 years), and an older son (age 5).  Here's where our story begins...

Shelbee was working in the Kid's Club tonight and asked me at what point she should get a parent when a child has been acting out the entire time, since dropped off.  Mind you, these children had been in the Kid's Club a whole 5 minutes when I was asked this question.  From the time they were dropped off, the 5 year old was tearing the place apart.  He was even doing it while the mother was there, signing her kids in.  He had already spent 90% of the time there in time-out.  When he was finally "released", he immediately went on a rampage while I was in the room.  He took toys from other kids, he threw things, he messed up other kids' drawings, and he wouldn't mind.  So, basically, he was awful.  (Keep in mind, I'm considered the Daycare Nazi.  I don't take shit from any kids.  They will respect my gym and my stuff or else!)

Then there's his baby brother.  I had noticed a car seat that looked like there was a bunch of "stuff" spilled on the straps and in the seat.  I looked at the baby and he had yellow crap all down the front of his clothes.  Shelbee had pointed out that he looked like that from the time he came in and she wasn't sure what was all over him.  Next thing we knew, we turned around and the yellow stuff on his shirt was now on the floor.  Gross.  I didn't know what we were dealing with; spit up, or puke.  While we gathered kids away from the little mess, we were planning on going to get the mother just to be on the safe side and so she could deal with her oldest.  (The middle child remained invisible the whole time - no drama there).  Suddenly, another pile of "stuff" that we deduced to being barf.  Nice.

So, Shelbee got the mom who slowly and casually came back to the Kid's Club.  We explained that we weren't sure what was wrong with her baby and she just slowly walked up to the baby and said, "Hmm, what's wrong?"  No biggie, but I started to think about all the CLEAR signs that were there BEFORE she brought her baby in...HE'S SICK, DUMMY!!!  While she strapped her baby into the barf coated car seat, I was dealing with her bratty son.  He was getting into the separated baby area and I told him to get out.  He was grabbing chalk and I had to follow him and take it from him to remind him that he lost his chalk privileges due to being disrespectful to the other kid's and their artwork.  He was pushing and shoving a little girl and I had to quickly run up to him and tell him hands off!  He then spilled another kid's goldfish on the floor and that's when I was done, because the whole time she just stood there doing nothing at all.  NOTHING!  So, I told him to get over by his mother and stay there and was not to leave her side.  He said no and started running around the room.  Finally, I walked up to her and said, "You need to do something about your kid!"

I was not even nice about it at all.  In fact, I shocked myself with how curt I was with her, because that just isn't my style.  But you want to know what shocked me even more?  She casually told her son, "Okay buddy, it's time to go. Get your shoes on."  He started throwing a fit and she had to wrestle with him.  At that point, I had to walk out.  I couldn't stand it for several reasons.
A.  Her son obviously receives no punishment...ever.
B.  He has no concept of authority or discipline.
C.  This mother brought her sick kid to a DAYCARE so she could selfishly get a workout in, no matter how sick her child was or if he was contagious to the other children (including my own).
D.  Her reaction to me disciplining her son and telling her to do something about it, was not what I would expect a parent to do.

If someone was disciplining Farrah and I was there, I would let them finish the punishment and I would take over from there.  Not rescuing her, but following through to correct her bad behavior.  If someone told me to do something about my kid's shitty behavior, I'd probably actually REACT.  First, it would never get to that point with Farrah because I have no problem dragging her into the bathroom and giving her a spanking or a firm scolding.  But if someone said that to me, I would be up in their face telling them "how it is".  I would react that way, because I KNOW I try very hard to make sure I'm not raising an asshole.  That is my sole mission in life:  Don't raise an asshole

That being said, she must have known I was right.  She needed to do something about her effing kid!  The neglect with those kids made me crazy mad, and mad enough to tell a complete stranger (in not so many words) they're doing a poor job.  While the 5 year old was making me crazy, it wasn't him so much as it was the idea that this woman brought a clearly sick, 9 month old baby into the gym around other children instead of keeping him home and "mothering" him.  This woman has a son who is old enough to know better and to have manners and show people respect, but he's never been shown how.  It was so sad and awful.

If you're overwhelmed because you have 3 kids and don't exactly know what you're doing, for God's sake, ask for some help!  Don't contribute to the millions of other parents who decided to give birth to a "friend" and let them walk all over you and every person they come in contact with.  You need to rock the boat that is so uncomfortable to rock.  That's the hardest part of being a parent.  Parenting.  But TRY, dammit!!!  It doesn't take a "village", moms and dads, it takes YOU.

Rescue 911

Tonight was a fascinating night.  After a delightful dinner, Mike thought it would be good to play with Farrah for a little bit before he had to return to work in his office.  It was a hilarious hide-and-seek adventure for the two of them and I was the spectator.  Mike always has special places to hide so that children NEVER find him.  If it were a sport allowed in the summer Olympics, he would be a Gold Medal contender.  He has managed to hide so well, that even I couldn't find him!

So, tonight, Farrah got to experience the professional hide-and-seeker at his absolute best!  I had Farrah wait in the bathroom while Mike hid.  When he was all settled in, she was on the move.  She looked and looked and Mike would yell, "FARRAH!!!" real loud and scare the crap out of her, making her scream at the top of her lungs, which of course, made me laugh my ass off.  This went on for a good 5 minutes (which is about an hour in toddler years) so Mike decided to come out.  But he didn't.

The hiding place in which Mike chose, has been his staple hiding spot since we bought the house 8 years ago.  It has never failed.  I've hidden in there once, and vowed never to do it again.  Mike's best hiding spot is our kitchen pantry.  It's about the size of a coat closet, but has shelves upon shelves of food, various grocery bags, and a big box of Farrah's play dough.  It's such a tight squeeze in there, I have seen the door bend from him breathing.  His body is always pushed right up against the racks and the door.

This is where the excitement came in.  The door didn't open.  Wouldn't open.  Couldn't open.  I thought for sure he was screwing around to make me panic, but no.  I kept thinking he was just being stupid and twisting the knob the same time as me so the door couldn't unlatch.  No.  The mother effin' door knob was broken.  BROKEN!!!  I have horrible claustrophobia, so I felt like I was going to have a panic attack for the both of us.  I watched as Mike pushed the door while bracing his body against the racks making room for some air.  I thought for sure, one more push and the door would've broken right off.

I asked if I could bust off the hinges and he told me to try and do it.  I ran to the garage and grabbed a hammer and a screw driver and ran back in.  The whole time this is going on, Farrah thought the game was continuing.  So she kept playing while I started banging away at the hinges.  Got the top one off, the middle one off, and then was stuck with the bottom one.  It took another 5+ minutes of banging the shit out of that hinge without breaking my thumb when it finally released.  We pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled.  I got up on a chair to see if there was something I could do with the top of the door.  When I was there, the door popped off and I grabbed it.  There, in the awful and muggy pantry squeezed in with the Raisin Bran and the Cheezits, was my dear husband looking at me with "are you effin' kidding me?" eyes.  We were both out of breath, him more than me.  The pantry was a mess, the door was a mess, the floor was a mess with greasy tools, and we thought, "what are the odds of this happening?"

The whole time this was going on, I asked a few times if he needed me to call 911.  I couldn't even imagine... only, I could.  Most of the people from the fire department are members at our gyms.  How embarrassing that would've been to have people that work out in our gym come to the rescue of my husband that was locked up in our kitchen pantry from an innocent game of hide-and-go-seek.  That game may be banned from our house now.  We had no idea how dangerous counting to 10 could be!

In General...

...people are funny.  I have been hooked, lately, on 5 websites that I like to check almost nightly.  They put a smile on my face and I often LOL (that's "laugh out loud", mom, since I know you're reading this).  They are all sites of people making fun of each other or themselves.  I love it!  Things are so serious in the world right now, let alone what we all deal with on a personal level at home or at work.  It's nice to see that people, in general, have a good sense of humor.  Here are the sites that I heart so much:

www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com

This one is rad, simply because they are photos of real people in real photos looking really awful.  We've all been there and had that family photo taken that you cringe when you walk by it, but our parents thought it would be a nice idea to go to "Penny's" and wear the same shirts and get our hair all done.  I will be contacting my parents to get copies of some of the professional portraits we had done to post on this site.  I could be FAMOUS with how amazingly awful some of the pictures are. Yeah, remember Glamour Shots? I did it, I wore the borrowed leather jacket, I held the collar up, I had big poofy hair, and yes, I looked like I was forty even though I was only 15.  Don't worry, I WILL be posting a picture of this soon.  In the meantime, here is a picture of someone else's family to give you an idea of how wonderful the website is.

Seriously, read his shirt.  She thinks his cocaine shirt is Hil-lar-i-ous.  What the what?!!!  

But who wouldn't choose that shirt to wear in a family photo?

Next site:

www.lamebook.com

These are little slices of heaven taken from the popular Facebook pages of complete strangers.  Why is it so funny?  Usually the irony in everything.  People are funny because they are dumb.  But the humor is usually coming from the friends of someone who has posted something ridiculous and everyone pokes fun.  It's very hard to explain if you are unfamiliar with how Facebook works, but I'll just say, my favorite parts are the ones where someone posts something profound, inspiring, or simply uplifting, then one of their jack ass friends points out their shitty grammar or spelling difficulties, completely taking away from what the "poster" was trying to convey to the masses.  Love that.

www.thisisphotobomb.com

Simple and to the point.  People ruin other people's photos by somehow sneaking in to the, otherwise, normal picture being taken.  Nuff said.

www.lovelylisting.com

This site isn't the best of the best, but it is a good one to go to.  They are actual real estate listings that people have felt the photos taken of these people's homes have been deemed "awesome" to be on this site.  And by "awesome" I mean AWESOME.  When visiting this site, you have to read the captions and comments.  But here are a few pictures from the site to give you an idea of the type of listings real estate agents are taking on and trying to sell the shit out of!

This one was titled "Haunted Barbie Mansion"

"Crime Scene House"

"Shag Bed"

And finally, I saved the best for last.  Thank you, Mike, for sharing this, as well as most of the above sites with me.  They make me laugh.  Hard.  

www.failblog.org

This is a site you have to go to, to fully experience its hilarity.  It's full of awesome.  In the meantime, I have attached a link to a clip that is WONDERFUL.  Be sure to look for the word "FAIL" on the pictures on the site and why that photo "failed".  Always funny.

http://failblog.org/2010/01/22/interruption-win/

Taco

We had dinner from Taco Time.  That's not the story, though.  The story is what I ordered and how I went about ordering it.

First, I ordered Mike's dinner.  Then I ordered mine:

"I'd like a Fish Taco."

"Okay, a Fish Taco."

"Yeah, but I want it with lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese."

"Okay, so a Fish Taco with lettuce and tomatoes."

"Did you hear that I wanted my Fish Taco with cheese?"

This is where I started to laugh.  I know the girl taking my order left out the part with "cheese" on purpose just to hear me say "Fish Taco with Cheese".  For God's sake, why wouldn't she???  I would totally have made the person repeat such a nasty thing.

Sounds to me like Taco Time isn't necessarily always "Good, Good, Fresh, Fresh."

I forgot to mention that I also ordered Sour Cream with it.  Does dinner get much dirtier than that?


P.S.  Totally unrelated side note.  Today, after dropping Farrah off at Jen's I was driving to work and noticed a GIANT bald eagle flying above my car with something fairly large (larger than a mouse and not quite a dog) in its claws.  It was kicking and fighting to free itself and clearly was unable.  Don't know if it was a cat or a rabbit (pretty sure it was a rabbit, though), but it was fascinating.  Then another bald eagle followed that one.  While it was sad for the creature on its way to meet its most definite death, I was in awe with nature.  I was raised to always pause in the presence of hawks, but mostly bald eagles.  There times my parents would pull over on the side of the road so that all of us kids in the car could see and appreciate the beauty of the big birds.  I loved that part of my childhood.  Back then, the bald eagle was an endangered species.  Now, they're protected and we're starting to see more and more.  I loved that moment today.


Not as much as the Fish Taco with cheese and sour cream.

Suity

Mike is getting ready to head out tomorrow morning for Vegas.  He's going there on business at the CES convention.  This is one of those trips where he knows he'll be meeting with "VIPs" and therefore, needs to be prepared.  So, this week we went and got him 2 new suits, new dress shoes, socks, and several dress shirts.  If you know my husband, then you know this is not something you would ever find in our closet.  When I met Mike, it was white t-shirts, blue jeans, and a baseball cap.  That was when his profession was strictly decks.  Then, his passion moved on to the gyms and the gym business and the fashion was sweatpants and colored t-shirts.  Now, with what he is working on, he needs to put his best foot forward and it must be wearing fancy shoes.  Mike had his suits taylored.  It was very necessary.  His pants were HUGE when he tried them on.  They had to be, in order to accommodate his massive legs (they're very muscly).  They had to practically rebuild the pants for him.  His jacket also had to have some work done on it.  He has a large back and broad shoulders.  Well, they finished the job quickly for Mike so he would have it in time for this convention.  And... he modeled the black suit with the black shirt and the black shoes.

Mmmmmm....
Yummy.

Just had to share the sexiness, which is my husband.  Smokin' hot.

Shit!  He's going there without me!!!

Well, I'm already excited for him to come back, wear his suit, and take me out to a dinner where I can match him in a nice dress.  Hint hint, Mr. Moody.

Am I Actually Watching This???

There's a show (that just happened to be on) that I'm watching and will be turning off shortly.  It's called, "Conveyor Belt of Love".  The coincidence is Farrah and I went to the Sushi Belt tonight for dinner!  However, this show is not that cool.  No.  Instead of delicious sushi treats, it's MEN on a conveyor belt.  They slowly wrap around the 5 women while they explain a lil' about themselves and why the women should hold up a sign that says, "interested".  Sometimes, they say, "Not Interested."  Mostly, it's "Not Interested".  This show makes me soooooo uncomfortable.  The dudes are dancing, singing, holding dogs as props, doing magic tricks, and simply acting like psychos.  Some of the guys are cute, but I'm pretty sure they're not interested in the girls, but instead, interested in the other guys.  I think it's funny when the girls pick the guys that clearly don't want to be with the girls.  So, I'm now going to turn it off so I can relax rather than feeling incredibly awkward for both the women and the men on the show.
Maybe this show should have a guy holding sushi!  That would be a great show.