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Saturday, June 30, 2012

15 Years Today

15 years ago today, I had my first date with Mike Moody.  I had been looking forward to an evening with him and scared as hell, too.  It was on a Sunday.  We went to the Ponderosa Tavern even though I was only 20 at the time and he was 30.  He told the bartender not to give me a hard time for not having my ID on me because I was going to be "the next Mrs. Moody".  He even had the courage to tell me he told her that and asked me if that bothered me.  I remember smiling at him, blushing, and admitting that it didn't bother me at all.  We shared a pitcher of beer (probably Bud Light) and talked all night.  Mike was razzed by a bunch of his friends about our date and we came to find that we had several mutual friends, too.  That made things easy so that there wasn't a whole lot of awkwardness in meeting everyone.  His sister was there too.  We stayed until we felt we'd talked all that we could for the night before a work day (plus we'd been getting to know each other for the past two days always up until 6AM - this just happened to be our "official" date).  When we arrived at his house, he walked me to my car and we both said that we had a great time and we'd like to see each other again.  Then Mike said, "Would it be alright if I kissed you?" Melt.  Of course.  It was gentle and passionate and absolutely forever unforgettable.

Ironically, I had been reading a book last night when one of the main characters said the same exact thing...I smiled and started to cry.  When Mike and I were together that first night, everything about it was fun, exciting, new, and romantic.  For crying out loud, what he said to me 15 years ago, just so happened to be in a book that's 3 years old!

Happy Anniversary Mr. Michael Moody

Love Always,

Mrs. Michael Moody

Friday, June 29, 2012

Graduation 2012

On the 20th of June, Miss Farrah Raquelle Moody graduated from the Kinder-Ready program at her school.  It was held at a park on a perfectly beautiful day.  Farrah had her dress all picked out for the day which actually started in the morning at a different park where there was a bouncy house, face painting and oh god, a clown.  All the kids got pop cycles, Farrah and I sat on our picnic blanket in the back of the group (can't be too close to clowns), and when it was finally time to do the balloon tricks, L-Bow the clown walked back to give Farrah the poodle, while the rest of the kids whined about it.  Lucky.
Anyway, we got her all ready and I even did her hair the same way I did for her first day of school.  Mike was in charge of picking up some flowers, but I had to give the list of what not to buy that could make me non-functional due to stupid flower allergies. They turned out awesome.  They even put glitter on the flowers!
Well, we (parents) were in charge of bringing assigned pot-luck dishes for the post grad picnic.  This is a very healthy school so pretty much everything was green.  I thought long and hard about what healthy salad I could bring since that was my task, and I decided to go for unhealthy instead.  I made two LARGE dishes of Caesar salad with lots of cheese and croutons.  I know this post is about Farrah's graduation, but sorry, I'm giving myself a BIG pat on the back for picking something that went in a hurry.  It was almost like a relief to many when we opened our two containers of sauciness , cheesiness, croutony, and some Romaine lettucey goodness.  Are any of those words?

Anyway, the kids all sat in a line in alphabetical order and Miss Becky began to speak and immediately began to cry, which of course made the rest of us get teary eyed.  She just loves the kids so much and the teachers with all her heart.  After her speech, the diplomas were handed out to each child, along with a photo of their class, and a rose.  After their name was called and they gathered their things, it was announced what they wanted to be when they grew up.  Audrey, Farrah's best friend, wants to be a podiatrist.  What?  Then there were two heart surgeons-to-be, firemen, police officer, and other things that made me think I definitely had Farrah at the right school.  Everyone was so ambitious!  Then Farrah's turn, "Farrah Raquelle Moody!  Farrah wants to be a cooker and a singer when she grows up!"  Of course I cheered for our little girl.  She knew she wanted to be a chef before she ever even knew that's what I went to school for.  And singing?  That's just a given in our musical family.
We got lots of pictures and couldn't help beam with pride with the awesomeness that is our Farrah.  The three of us stayed until the very end.  I remember Glen, Audrey's dad look a little confused and asked Audrey if she knew what a podiatrist is (because this seemed to be a surprise to him and Cheryl) and Audrey said no.  Then he explained what it was, and then she said, "Oh yeah. That's what I want to be!"  So kudos to Audrey!

Farrah, I can't say how proud I am of you and have it mean as much as I feel it.  You have lovely penmanship, you can do math, you love science and are intrigued with planets and dinosaurs.  You are incredibly good at art and you tell me all the time, "But mommy, I'm only 5 years old and I don't know much stuff.  I need you to tell me everything!"  I will do my best and I am doing my best.  You are so bright and knowledgable at such a young age, I can hardly fathom what wonderful adult you will become because at 5, you're one of the very best people I know.  Your intuition is very uncanny and your desire to see everyone around you happy is a characteristic that at your age is not learned, but simply ingrained into your soul.  I love you so much.  You are what I want to be when I grow up! ; )

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Winter Coat

This isn't about the one hanging in my closet.  I'm wondering if we, as humans, have "winter coats" like other animals.  Both Farrah and I have experienced an excessive amount of "shedding" lately and quite frankly, my vacuum can't keep up.  Thank god we have a lot of hair, some we can spare.  We moved from an area where the climate was at a consistently uncomfortable temperature except for 2 months (maybe 3 if we were lucky) out of the year.    Yes, like normal people I'd comb my hair and expect a strand here and there.  No big deal.  But holy geez!  This is out of freakin' control!!  I've been in 10 degree weather throughout the winter and in some windy and crazy snow storms on this side of the mountains.  Chilly!  Now, it's going to be 90 tomorrow.  I'm hoping desperately that Farrah and I are dropping what I can only imagine that can be a winter coat due to the harsh change in temperatures.  I also hope this stops soon because I'm sick of finding strands in every towel I grab and every pair of socks I own.  They're like magnets.  I have to constantly pull an invisible hair off of my right elbow at least twice a day.  I always get it, but it drives me nuts!  Anyway, weird post, I know, but this hair madness must end soon.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

The Most Entertaining Travel Experience

About a week ago, I went to CA for business with Mike.  The trip itself was awesome and successful.  We met some great people and look forward to building some amazing relationships with them all, let alone doing business with them.

But what I'm writing about has absolutely nothing to do with that.  My lil' story begins at the airport on our way back to Seattle.  We were in a pretty long line for Alaska Airlines and it was moving very slowly.  Mike had me stay in line while he went to one of the kiosks to check us in and get our tickets.  While he did that, I watched the men on the other side of his kiosk, using theirs.  They were older men who had been standing there from the moment we walked through the door, got in line, Mike got us checked in, and got back in line.  They were there until we made it towards the front of the line and their wives in front of us began to panic.  At the moment that it looked like we were getting close, the counter ladies started to make announcements for anyone who was there for the 7AM flight to come to the front of the line.  Ummm....what?  One by one, people behind us started to make their way in front of us and I remember thinking, what the hell??  We were there on time and when the airlines tell us to be there: 2 hours before flight's departure.  These people were an hour late and their plane was loading. I remember when that had happened to us.  And we weren't moved to the front of the line.  In fact we were told: too freakin' bad and we'd have to wait until an airline had an opening for us.  OUR flight hadn't even started to board yet and we were still considered to late.  But I guess Alaska Airlines treats people different.  Once all the tardies made their way away from the front counter and on their way to security, there was one more person that I noticed.  A little old lady who held a paper that looked like it was printed from Expedia.com in her hands.  She walked up to an Alaska Airlines person and said, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."  They proceeded to scoot her up to the front of the line.  Again, the rest of us were just waiting patiently for our turn that was actually 20 minutes ago.  I simply watched, entertained.  I had to mentally scold myself that she was just a little old lady that "didn't know what she was doing."  Yeah right.
She knew.
She knew.
She was another 8AM passenger along with the rest of us.  And off she went to security while the rest of us sweaty and tired people waited to flagged down for our turn.  We got checked in finally and we were on our way to security at the John Wayne airport.  Worst - Security - Ever.  Long ass lines in a tiny airport with SO many security personel.  While we waited in line, there was a man to our left who was in super panic mode while he spoke quite loudly in his cell phone, "I DON'T KNOW HONEY!! I'VE BEEN HERE WAITING FOR YOU!!  I'M PROBABLY GOING TO MISS MY FUCKING FLIGHT BECAUSE I'M SURE NONE OF THE PEOPLE IN FRONT OF ME ARE GOING TO LET ME GO AHEAD OF THEM. - Oh, thank you."  Yes, we let him in front of us.  Then a couple of  VIP fliers walked in front of us.  I couldn't help but smile and laugh then say, "Should I say no cuts-ees to them?  Because that was weird."  These two guys didn't even acknowledge that we were standing there and then they were suddenly in front of us.  How do you not realize you walked in front of two people let alone a whole line and not feel a little shitty about it?
So, we waited in this stupid long line that seemed to go on forever.  I made sure all my lip gloss and hand sanitizer was set aside so my purse wouldn't get searched again.  The yelling-cell-phone-man was still freaking out and swearing and sweating and pacing in his little space of nothingness.  He kept sighing really loud.  He made sure EVERYONE around him knew he was pressed for time.  We got it!  Someone even signaled that he go ahead to the next line that looked like it was moving faster, but no, security lady said, "These ladies were first.  You'll have to wait."  "FUCK!!!"  And my reaction?  Laughter, of course.  How was it not funny to see this poor guy get nothing but bad luck.  I turned to Mike and said, "Would it be terrible of me to wish that they pull him aside to get patted down?  Oh please, god, make him get searched."
I said this and knew...I had just doomed us.
My evil lil' wish backfired onto us.  But mostly because the John Wayne airport sucks.  I watched as some poor man was patted down and searched right in front of everyone without any privacy.  It pissed me off to see that.  Although I wished it on the yelling-cell-phone-man, this poor soul was being touched and prodded with everyone's noses pressed up against the glass wondering if he had a bomb hidden up his ass.  I think not.
The back fire for us that I clearly made happen because Karma is a bitch, but c'mon, was when we finally got to the ramp that pulled our crap through the Xray.  When it got to my box, the guy sat there staring at my shit.  He looked around trying to find some help, called for help in his walkie-talkie, and waited.
And waited.
And...waited.
Someone finally showed up to help with my purse.  "Oh, ma'am, you're not supposed to put anything on top of your lap top so it has to go through again."  Awesome.  So my stuff went to the back of the line to go through again while I stood there in shame.  Then Mike's came through. "WE'VE GOT ANOTHER WITH SHOES ON THE LAPTOP!!!"  Oh my god, this was getting too rad for words although I'm writing several.  Back to the beginning Mike's stuff went.  Because his SHOES were sitting on top of his computer.  VERY dangerous!!!
We made it through and not angry but a little entertained.
Time to load our plane...computers went down.  Of course they did.  And the lady who was checking us in while writing our tickets down on paper, was the same lady that made us sit there with our daughter in shame only a month or so ago after Disneyland because she wasn't 2 years old, but in a stroller.  Usually, the rules are "passengers who need assistance and those with children."  Both, thank you.  Strollers need special treatment at the base of where you get loaded.

Okay, finally the best part...
The little old lady who cut in front of all of us was sitting in front of us along with 2 other VERY old people.  I thought it was a great fitting for them.  I had a gal crying next to me for the majority of the trip and I constantly felt like hugging her, but that could've been weird.  But back to the older people... Mike pointed something out to me that he felt I just had to see.  He pointed out that the man sitting in the middle of the two woman was reading a Kindle in big font.  The font was SO big it only held 6-9 words to the screen.  AND Mike was able to tell me that the man was reading about anti-abortion on the NY Times.  I was laughing so hard, I thought I might scream.  It was too freaking funny and I just couldn't stop.  In fact, I wrote a note to myself that I would be writing about it, so here I am.  Probably not funny in the slightest to anyone reading this, but picture the font at a size 50...not kidding.  It was so big.  I wasn't sure who out of that group was driving, but I sure as hell hoped it wasn't him.

Tuesday, June 05, 2012

Pukes

I felt it necessary to write about this because of the magical word that came from this boring story.  I had Farrah sleep with me one night after she had an excellent week at school.  A little reward, if you will.  We sometimes watch movies together or she'll watch her own while I read.  Well, since it was a sleep-in day for us, we woke up at an unreasonable hour.  We both woke up at the same time and she looked disheveled and puffy eyed.  I could taste my ass breath and knew the greasy mess of a mop on top of my head was plastered to my skull.  I did that gross lip smacking thing that you do when you first wake up while looking at her.  She mimicked my action and spoke, "Good morning, mama."  Oh LORD!
Me:  "Farrah, your breath smells as bad as mine tastes.  Gross."
Farrah:  "Yeah, gross."
Me:  "We're both gross and smell like poop."
Farrah:  "We're pooo..ah...pukes!"
Me:  (Scream laughing) "Yes! Yes we are pukes!!!"
The word "pukes" is now frequently used in our vocabulary to describe ourselves when we are what others like to call a "hot mess".  Let's be honest with ourselves.  Hot mess?  Really?  No.  Think about it.  When you haven't showered, you passed out in whatever sweatpants and teeshirt concoction you've thrown together to fall in bed in, you can still find a piece of almond in between your teeth from your midnight snacking adventure and you look like you've been punched in both eyes because you like to rub your eyes with your fists when you first wake up and smear any leftover waterproof mascara...you are NOT a hot mess.  You are gross.  You are a puke.

Puke.

Keep in mind...this word can be used to describe just about anyone and anything just like the term "hot mess."  It's more honest.  Like this, "Oh my lord, did you see that girl? That outfit and that hair? What a puke." Caddy girls like to think they're being cute and kind when saying "hot mess" when in fact they're just ass holes like everyone else who is talking shit.  So keep it real folks.  Call it like it is.  The word will catch on and Farrah and I will be the ones who revolutionize it.  Just watch.  So try not to act like a PUKE or look like a PUKE and we won't tell anyone.  In the meantime, we'll practice the word on ourselves.

P.S.  I took a half-ass shower today, so I will proclaim myself as being a puke today.  And I will wear the word with pride until I wash it off tonight or whenever the hell I feel like it.