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
Saturday, June 30, 2012
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! ; )
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
Bio-terrorism
Farrah is funny. Very funny. But at times she can take her humor to a place that crosses an invisible line. A few weeks ago Farrah was talking to me and then turned to me and whispered that she needed to tell me something. She slowly walked over to me and came up to my right ear and full on SNEEZED (for real). My kid sneezed...in my face...on purpose. I laughed so hard and so did Farrah and so did Mike, but at the same time I knew somewhere in that moment I needed to teach her a lesson. But what lesson can you teach a 5 year old when you are scream laughing from the fact that your kid is clever enough to come up with something so funny and sneaky? It took me a bit to calm down and let her know this wasn't okay. Obviously, chuckling through the whole reprimand didn't help plead my case of seriousness. I went through the whole thing that it was "rude", "gross", "not nice", etc. Blah, blah, freakin' blah. Whatever. It was funny. However...I didn't want her to do this again.
Well, two days ago she was looking at me and walking up to me slowly then WACHOO! in my face!!! Again, I had to try even harder this time to keep my laughter locked up and try a different approach with her. (Mind you, so you don't think my kid is a total ass, her sneezes were mostly just loud but little to no snot or spittle hit me - but how does she sneak up like that without that awkward twisted look on her face like normal people get right before the explosive sneeze?). I ended up telling her that what she just did was against the law. I told her if she ever jokingly spit on me (she makes spit bubbles then laughs and might get a little on me) or sneezed at me on purpose, I'd call the cops and she'd go to jail. Her laughter dwindled away and sadness and fear replaced her smile. In fact, she started to get a little teary. "Why would you call the cops on me mommy?!!" "Because what you are doing could be considered biochemical warfare against me. What if you sneezed sickness on me? That is against the law and I will have to do my duty and turn you in if you do it again." "But mommy, I don't want to go to jail. You love me!" "Of course I love you and I don't want you to go to jail, but you'll avoid jail time or cops coming if you stop sneezing in my face." "BUT MOMMY!!! WHAT IF I CAN'T HELP IT?!!" "You know when a sneeze is coming on, so turn away from me or anyone else...or we'll have to get the authorities involved." "Okay Mama."
Yeah, I won that one. Very cleverly I might add.
Another comical moment from Farrah was last night after playing a round of UNO. She's very good, mind you. She beat me...again. But it was her victory celebration that was SO funny and not something I'd expect a 5 year old little girl (except for mine) to do. She turned around, poked her butt towards my face, said "CH! CH! Pkew! Pkew!" Those are supposed to be the sounds of her cocking a gun and blasting it at me. While she did the "pkew pkew" she popped her butt out like she was firing the "gun" at me. She's terrible and awesome at the same time.
Well, two days ago she was looking at me and walking up to me slowly then WACHOO! in my face!!! Again, I had to try even harder this time to keep my laughter locked up and try a different approach with her. (Mind you, so you don't think my kid is a total ass, her sneezes were mostly just loud but little to no snot or spittle hit me - but how does she sneak up like that without that awkward twisted look on her face like normal people get right before the explosive sneeze?). I ended up telling her that what she just did was against the law. I told her if she ever jokingly spit on me (she makes spit bubbles then laughs and might get a little on me) or sneezed at me on purpose, I'd call the cops and she'd go to jail. Her laughter dwindled away and sadness and fear replaced her smile. In fact, she started to get a little teary. "Why would you call the cops on me mommy?!!" "Because what you are doing could be considered biochemical warfare against me. What if you sneezed sickness on me? That is against the law and I will have to do my duty and turn you in if you do it again." "But mommy, I don't want to go to jail. You love me!" "Of course I love you and I don't want you to go to jail, but you'll avoid jail time or cops coming if you stop sneezing in my face." "BUT MOMMY!!! WHAT IF I CAN'T HELP IT?!!" "You know when a sneeze is coming on, so turn away from me or anyone else...or we'll have to get the authorities involved." "Okay Mama."
Yeah, I won that one. Very cleverly I might add.
Another comical moment from Farrah was last night after playing a round of UNO. She's very good, mind you. She beat me...again. But it was her victory celebration that was SO funny and not something I'd expect a 5 year old little girl (except for mine) to do. She turned around, poked her butt towards my face, said "CH! CH! Pkew! Pkew!" Those are supposed to be the sounds of her cocking a gun and blasting it at me. While she did the "pkew pkew" she popped her butt out like she was firing the "gun" at me. She's terrible and awesome at the same time.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Binky
I found this little treasure today. I don't know what compelled me to NEED to take a picture of it, but I did. All that came to mind were the numerous captions that could go along with this. Right off the bat, I was thinking "this is a perfectly fine binky, what the hell? Why leave it behind?" Or you know how sometimes babies drop their binkies and mommies pick them up, suck on them to "clean them up" and put it back in their baby's mouth? Where was the mom on this one? WTF? Someone dropped the ball as a mother on this little task.
OR, someone gets the Mother Of The Year award if they do clean that thing up thoroughly and has the thought, "Yep, good enough for Jr." OR Worst Mother Of The Year award if this is just given back to the baby. I think that's what kept going through my mind that made me laugh so hard at this. I actually pictured in my mind a mom just picking it up and handing it over to her baby without even thinking about it except to keep the baby quiet. You know, sometimes we moms get tired and a little retarded at times. Some worse than others. This was a worse case scenario. I'm probably not doing it any justice, but if anyone wants to come up with their own caption, they're welcome to it. I'll be working on some real ones and post them somewhere on the world wide web, I'm sure. ; ) It's lying down on a dead leaf and next to leaked car oil. Or is that a fish tail?
OR, someone gets the Mother Of The Year award if they do clean that thing up thoroughly and has the thought, "Yep, good enough for Jr." OR Worst Mother Of The Year award if this is just given back to the baby. I think that's what kept going through my mind that made me laugh so hard at this. I actually pictured in my mind a mom just picking it up and handing it over to her baby without even thinking about it except to keep the baby quiet. You know, sometimes we moms get tired and a little retarded at times. Some worse than others. This was a worse case scenario. I'm probably not doing it any justice, but if anyone wants to come up with their own caption, they're welcome to it. I'll be working on some real ones and post them somewhere on the world wide web, I'm sure. ; ) It's lying down on a dead leaf and next to leaked car oil. Or is that a fish tail?
What if this JUST popped out of a babies mouth?!! That's what this baby's binkies ALL look like!! Gross. And yet, to me...awesome.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
When Kid Games Go Wrong
This morning Farrah wanted to play a game with me. "Let's make silly faces!" It's not one of my favorite games, but she enjoys it a lot and I think mostly because she's learned how to cross her eyes and thinks it's hilarious. Well, we'd gone a good 5 minutes going back and forth, back and forth. Finally, I went for a different tactic. I proceeded to pull my lower lip out and then down...further and further and further. "Mama, you're freaking me out. You're freaking me out! YOU'RE FREAKING ME OUT!!!!" Of course, her face filled with terror only made me want to continue doing it even more and then add a little more by lifting my tongue back and showing my tongue veins. I'm such an ass. "STOP IT MOMMY!!! I DON'T WANT YOU TO RIP YOUR LIPS OFF!! DON'T PULL YOUR LIPS OFF OF YOUR FACE!!!" I stopped and started to scream laugh so hard. And my poor fragile daughter began to cry. I had to explain that I wasn't going to rip my lips off my face and they were back to normal. No harm done. Then she said, "I was afraid if you ripped your lips off your face you would die." I'm SUCH an ass. Big hugs after that and a promise that I wouldn't try to pull my bottom lip out ever again.
However, I reserve the right to pull my bottom lip out as far as I can should she be disrespectful or not minding me. I'll remind her how awful she's being with the threat of ripping part of my face off. I'm not sure who wins there though. But I'm sure it takes less energy than a good ol' fashion scolding.
However, I reserve the right to pull my bottom lip out as far as I can should she be disrespectful or not minding me. I'll remind her how awful she's being with the threat of ripping part of my face off. I'm not sure who wins there though. But I'm sure it takes less energy than a good ol' fashion scolding.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
OMG...Did this just happen
This literally happened to me less than 30 seconds ago, but it shook me to my core enough that I needed to post about it because it's that important. I was looking for 3 inch pens for a project I'm working on. An ink pen about the size of those little promo flashlights. You can picture what I'm saying, right? Well, I read through some of the sites that popped up on Google and none of them said anything. However, one did say 3 inch pens. So, of course I clicked on it. And what should appear but a 3 inch PENIS. Seeing a penis doesn't shake me to my core, but seeing it in a public coffee house where the potential of others seeing the 3 inch penis on my computer screen DOES shake me to my core. Ooops! "X" out of that page and pray to god that no one just saw that. Let me say, it was only about 10 minutes ago that I had people sitting within eyesight on either side of me. Luckily, I was alone when the 3 inch penis reared its ugly head. Tee hee. Gross, but funny. Apparently, I have to be more specific in my search category. "Pens" is short for "Penis", I guess. Had no idea.
Thursday, January 05, 2012
Sleep Over
Farrah had a sleep over at her friend's house a few weeks ago, but we decided it was our turn to have the sleep over at our house. The two girls are very fond of each other and love to play together, but of course there's always going to be incidents. The first one was the dead bird. I saw them going up and down the back deck and then huddled together in a chair. When I was on the phone, I had to quickly excuse myself so I could tell the girls to put down the dead bird and stop petting the poor thing. "We want to bury it." was Farrah's response. "I wish I could take it home to my house." was Audrey's. Eww, eww, eww. My response:
"DROP IT! DROP IT! DROP IT!"
"Come inside. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!"
"Come wash your hands. Don't touch ANYTHING!"
"Please don't touch that bird again. I know it's sad, but it's a little gross too."
Next...AGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! On the phone again, "I gotta go, gotta go, gotta go!" "MOMMY!!! AGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" Tag + slammed doors + little fingers = no bueno. While Farrah was okay and survived with all fingers intact and no broken bones, she was not a fan of the ice on the hands. When a 4 year old friend, says she's sorry...they mean it, but more for fear of getting in trouble. How do I know this? Because Farrah had the same sort of apology for Audrey later. They were arguing because Farrah wanted to sing "Circle of Life" from The Lion King, but Audrey wanted to actually watch the movie. So during their argument, Farrah threatened to eat Audrey. Audrey came downstairs crying and Farrah was freaking out and screaming "I SAID I'M SORRY!!!" She wasn't. So, I had to clarify whether Farrah intended on using salt and pepper when eating Audrey or not. This made them laugh. Then Audrey said she's bitten herself before and I asked her how her arm tasted. Not good. "See Farrah, not a good idea." I got them to settle down for now, hope they're out for the night.
"DROP IT! DROP IT! DROP IT!"
"Come inside. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!"
"Come wash your hands. Don't touch ANYTHING!"
"Please don't touch that bird again. I know it's sad, but it's a little gross too."
Next...AGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! On the phone again, "I gotta go, gotta go, gotta go!" "MOMMY!!! AGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" Tag + slammed doors + little fingers = no bueno. While Farrah was okay and survived with all fingers intact and no broken bones, she was not a fan of the ice on the hands. When a 4 year old friend, says she's sorry...they mean it, but more for fear of getting in trouble. How do I know this? Because Farrah had the same sort of apology for Audrey later. They were arguing because Farrah wanted to sing "Circle of Life" from The Lion King, but Audrey wanted to actually watch the movie. So during their argument, Farrah threatened to eat Audrey. Audrey came downstairs crying and Farrah was freaking out and screaming "I SAID I'M SORRY!!!" She wasn't. So, I had to clarify whether Farrah intended on using salt and pepper when eating Audrey or not. This made them laugh. Then Audrey said she's bitten herself before and I asked her how her arm tasted. Not good. "See Farrah, not a good idea." I got them to settle down for now, hope they're out for the night.
Nightmare 2
I thought I should share about this nightmare that Farrah had, since she's only had a small handful of them. The first one that was shared was about me...this one is about her Daddy.
"I had a bad dream last night. It was about Daddy. He was in a chair and there were monsters all around him making this face" (She proceeded to make an angry face showing all her teeth). "They were putting salt on him. I think they were going to eat him. They put tape on his mouth."
Ick, I know. But this will probably be the last of the shared blogged nightmares.
But there was a baby doll one with the red light. That one freaked me the hell out.
"I had a bad dream last night. It was about Daddy. He was in a chair and there were monsters all around him making this face" (She proceeded to make an angry face showing all her teeth). "They were putting salt on him. I think they were going to eat him. They put tape on his mouth."
Ick, I know. But this will probably be the last of the shared blogged nightmares.
But there was a baby doll one with the red light. That one freaked me the hell out.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Our Little Girl
Happy Birthday to our amazing daughter, Farrah. She is 5 today and is as wonderful as can be. Had Mike and I gone through a catalog and picked all we'd love in a daughter...she's it. Not ONE day can go by without a kiss, a bear hug, or an "I love you" from her. It would make her day incomplete. She loves to play, she loves to smile, she loves being silly, she loves to sing, she loves her friends, she loves to share what she learns at school every single day, she loves her WHOLE family and remembers them all regardless of how often she gets to or doesn't see them. She loves art, she loves Littlest Pet Shops, she loves to watch Horseland, and she loves to make wishes. But she also really loves her mommy and her daddy. There just aren't enough hugs and kisses from us to truly satisfy her big heart. Farrah loves to love. :) How can we not be beyond proud of being the parents of one of the best people I know in the world?
Happy Birthday my "Kitten"
Happy Birthday Daddy's "Boots"
Happy Birthday our Farrah...our love.
Happy Birthday my "Kitten"
Happy Birthday Daddy's "Boots"
Happy Birthday our Farrah...our love.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Smurfette
Before you start asking yourself if I saw the movie, I didn't. I'm a little afraid to. Here's why...
As a child, I grew up watching this cartoon. It wasn't one of my favorites by any means, but it was on around the time all the WB cartoons were on which were my favorites. So, there I was watching these little blue creatures on the screen every Saturday morning. Looking back on it, I was always confused about something. Smurfette.
Smurfette was the ONLY female Smurf out of the ENTIRE colony of Smurfs. Ummm...something about that was always a tad disturbing to me. There were so many episodes about the many other male Smurfs wanting to hook up with Smurfette. She was dirty. Sorry if I offend anyone who either loves the Smurfs, or hates that the obvious was just shoved in their face. She'd be offered gifts and she'd accept them! Dirty little tramp. But what did they get in return, I wonder??? Oh, we find that out down the road. Where the heck did Baby Smurf come from? They never did explain that. Also, there were all these little Kid Smurfs. Who birthed them? Well, the ONLY FEMALE SMURF of course!!! Loosey Goosey.
Might I point out her 4-pack-a-day-smoker's voice? There's no way she cut out the ciggies while "with child". And then there's her dress. It was like the famous Marilyn Monroe dress. The one that, OOPS, blows up. She would walk around skanking it out for all the other Smurfs and the only one that didn't fall for her shannanagans was Papa Smurf, but that's probably because he was her dad. And if that's the case...!!! HELLO! Get with the program Papa and find some other female Smurfs and sit Smurfette down and chat with her about her behavior and disgusting smoking habits.
In her defense... IF she is the ONLY female Smurf, I suppose she has a duty to uphold to keep the Smurf race alive and therefore has to behave in such a manner to try and keep the male Smurfs interested. And in which case, with having to work that hard to keep them enticed, she probably has to smoke 4 packs a day because she hates her job and her life.
Side note about why I won't see the movie: Today's cinema wants to take classic cartoons that we used to enjoy as children and trash them up. Too much adult humor is thrown in and the cute female chimpmunks are made to wear slutty clothes. While, yes, I'm making fun of what I found to be obvious as a child, I don't want my 4 year old learning the truth about Smurfette. It's just not time.
As a child, I grew up watching this cartoon. It wasn't one of my favorites by any means, but it was on around the time all the WB cartoons were on which were my favorites. So, there I was watching these little blue creatures on the screen every Saturday morning. Looking back on it, I was always confused about something. Smurfette.
Smurfette was the ONLY female Smurf out of the ENTIRE colony of Smurfs. Ummm...something about that was always a tad disturbing to me. There were so many episodes about the many other male Smurfs wanting to hook up with Smurfette. She was dirty. Sorry if I offend anyone who either loves the Smurfs, or hates that the obvious was just shoved in their face. She'd be offered gifts and she'd accept them! Dirty little tramp. But what did they get in return, I wonder??? Oh, we find that out down the road. Where the heck did Baby Smurf come from? They never did explain that. Also, there were all these little Kid Smurfs. Who birthed them? Well, the ONLY FEMALE SMURF of course!!! Loosey Goosey.
Might I point out her 4-pack-a-day-smoker's voice? There's no way she cut out the ciggies while "with child". And then there's her dress. It was like the famous Marilyn Monroe dress. The one that, OOPS, blows up. She would walk around skanking it out for all the other Smurfs and the only one that didn't fall for her shannanagans was Papa Smurf, but that's probably because he was her dad. And if that's the case...!!! HELLO! Get with the program Papa and find some other female Smurfs and sit Smurfette down and chat with her about her behavior and disgusting smoking habits.
In her defense... IF she is the ONLY female Smurf, I suppose she has a duty to uphold to keep the Smurf race alive and therefore has to behave in such a manner to try and keep the male Smurfs interested. And in which case, with having to work that hard to keep them enticed, she probably has to smoke 4 packs a day because she hates her job and her life.
Side note about why I won't see the movie: Today's cinema wants to take classic cartoons that we used to enjoy as children and trash them up. Too much adult humor is thrown in and the cute female chimpmunks are made to wear slutty clothes. While, yes, I'm making fun of what I found to be obvious as a child, I don't want my 4 year old learning the truth about Smurfette. It's just not time.
Friday, August 05, 2011
Ice Cream Truck Hell
While at the Sprinkler Park today, Farrah, Toby and I were enjoying a nice time in the sun and lying under the shade of a tree. Then from out of no where, the blaring sirens of "music" from an ice cream truck crept its evil way to the park. Sunuvabitch. Of course, this brings out the crazy excitedness out of my daughter. But do I have money to get one? No. Would I have got her one had I had the money? No. Not because I'm an asshole but because I know what a $2.50 ice cream can do to a kid, my kid, in that heat. That late in the day. And after playing so much. Also, I had a massive bag and a massive dog attached to me so the idea of chasing after that stupid truck was not appealing. What also made it not appealing...? Farrah's temper tantrum. "NOT FAIR!!! IT'S NOT FAIR!!! NO!!! NO!!!! NOOOOOO!!!!!" The tantrum included a lot of screaming, crying, throwing herself on the grass and kicking. I was told that I was not liked and she insisted on getting louder and louder, but this was because not only did I say no, but I was packing our stuff to leave. Who was this person? I believe I saw a piece of my childhood come out in my daughter today, but I expect better from her. Especially since we have much better ice cream and pop cycles at home. Needless to say, I hate the Ice Cream Truck and it's stupid music that constantly plays while other children get to go up and get their ice cream while my daughter screams at the top of her lungs.
One last note:
Yesterday, Farrah went to the dentist. NOT ONE SINGLE CAVITY!!! We were praised with how well we maintained her teeth, flossed, adding ACT to her daily mouth hygiene, as well as her diet. I was so proud of her too! At first she was scared of having her teeth cleaned, but brave little Farrah took it like a champ. She was well behaved and scored big with the staff because her check up was s-i-m-p-l-e!
Kudos to us for not giving her pop everyday and handing over a candy bar every time she asks. Oh, and using a Sonicare on a 4 year old (since she was 2). Good girl Farrah!!! Very proud of you. :)
One last note:
Yesterday, Farrah went to the dentist. NOT ONE SINGLE CAVITY!!! We were praised with how well we maintained her teeth, flossed, adding ACT to her daily mouth hygiene, as well as her diet. I was so proud of her too! At first she was scared of having her teeth cleaned, but brave little Farrah took it like a champ. She was well behaved and scored big with the staff because her check up was s-i-m-p-l-e!
Kudos to us for not giving her pop everyday and handing over a candy bar every time she asks. Oh, and using a Sonicare on a 4 year old (since she was 2). Good girl Farrah!!! Very proud of you. :)
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Three Blind Mice
Three blind mice
Three blind mice
See how they run
See how they run
They all went after the farmer's wife
She cut off their tails with a carving knife
Have you ever seen such a sight in your life
As three blind mice
Yeah. Um, I just sang that to Farrah and when I looked down with a smile on my face, her jaw was at the floor and her eyes were bulging out of her face. Here, I thought I was singing a classic to her; something that I grew up singing. Little did I know how very violent it was. Who wrote this murderous tale? She was not pleased and told me, "Mama, that's a BAD song!"
My bad.
Three blind mice
See how they run
See how they run
They all went after the farmer's wife
She cut off their tails with a carving knife
Have you ever seen such a sight in your life
As three blind mice
Yeah. Um, I just sang that to Farrah and when I looked down with a smile on my face, her jaw was at the floor and her eyes were bulging out of her face. Here, I thought I was singing a classic to her; something that I grew up singing. Little did I know how very violent it was. Who wrote this murderous tale? She was not pleased and told me, "Mama, that's a BAD song!"
My bad.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
An Old Story
I just remembered an old story from back when I was just out of high school. In fact, I may have still been in high school, but don't judge my poor behavior. I'm telling this story because I was reminded of it today and thought I should write about it so that I never forget it. Because it's that good (to me).
One night, some of my girlfriends Jen, Becky, Amy, Suzie, Mariah, and I had gone out to a Denny's after some teenage drinking. Yes, I know, bad, bad, bad. But this is old news. One of us was sober because we were at least smart enough to designate someone to not be retarded, it just so happens that this night it was not me. Becky and I were usually the good girls, but this night we were tipsy. I, in fact, was pretty lit. The typical hang out to go to when wasted was Denny's. We were seated and we noticed some older guys (older, like they were probably 21 or 22) watching us. Becky and I decided to be brave and invite ourselves to sit with them and start to flirt and shoot the shit with them.
However, she and I had a plan up our sleeves. We positioned ourselves so our girlfriends could watch what we were doing. When Becky would start talking to them and their attention would be on her, I would grab one of their cheeseburgers and take the biggest bite I could fit in my mouth. (I'm scream laughing as I type this). Then when she was done talking, I would begin jumping into the conversation and have their full attention while Becky grabbed a handful of french fries and stuffed her face. This went on and on and every once in a while the guys would glance at us while we ate their dinner, but never say a thing! By the time we were done with our flirting, we had basically finished their meal. We were dying we were laughing so hard. These poor guys were so polite they never said anything to us and our hobo ways.
Looking back, we were such assholes for doing that, but I have no regrets because it was one of those times in my life where the scream laughter was never ending to the point that my stomach and face hurt and I was crying from laughing so hard. Even now, I can laugh hard at this story. It's one of my favorite "being bad" stories.
One night, some of my girlfriends Jen, Becky, Amy, Suzie, Mariah, and I had gone out to a Denny's after some teenage drinking. Yes, I know, bad, bad, bad. But this is old news. One of us was sober because we were at least smart enough to designate someone to not be retarded, it just so happens that this night it was not me. Becky and I were usually the good girls, but this night we were tipsy. I, in fact, was pretty lit. The typical hang out to go to when wasted was Denny's. We were seated and we noticed some older guys (older, like they were probably 21 or 22) watching us. Becky and I decided to be brave and invite ourselves to sit with them and start to flirt and shoot the shit with them.
However, she and I had a plan up our sleeves. We positioned ourselves so our girlfriends could watch what we were doing. When Becky would start talking to them and their attention would be on her, I would grab one of their cheeseburgers and take the biggest bite I could fit in my mouth. (I'm scream laughing as I type this). Then when she was done talking, I would begin jumping into the conversation and have their full attention while Becky grabbed a handful of french fries and stuffed her face. This went on and on and every once in a while the guys would glance at us while we ate their dinner, but never say a thing! By the time we were done with our flirting, we had basically finished their meal. We were dying we were laughing so hard. These poor guys were so polite they never said anything to us and our hobo ways.
Looking back, we were such assholes for doing that, but I have no regrets because it was one of those times in my life where the scream laughter was never ending to the point that my stomach and face hurt and I was crying from laughing so hard. Even now, I can laugh hard at this story. It's one of my favorite "being bad" stories.
Thursday, July 07, 2011
Blog-worthy Restaurant Review
Farrah and I went out for lunch yesterday. To protect the innocent, I will refrain from name dropping the restaurant we went to. We decided to go for Chinese food. Sounded good at the time, and you can always count on leftovers for dinner so you're usually getting two meals in one. Great idea. Well, once we opened the door to this "restaurant" I should've turned around immediately and ran back to my car. But, no, I'm to damn polite to do something as smart as that. There were festive Chinese lanterns hanging from the office-style-tiled-ceiling which seemed to kinda match a normal Chinese restaurant themed environment, but then I looked at the chairs and tables. They were the type of chairs you'd find in a bowling alley or in a diner that should've been closed down years and years ago. The kind you saw back when they allowed you to smoke while eating your dinner. You know what I'm talking about. You're probably picturing brown vinyl chairs with the metal legs? Close. They were red vinyl to keep with the color theme hanging from the ceiling. The tables matched with the metal legs and the tops were glass covered over paper place mats that showed the Chinese calendar with the corresponding animals.
Those things weren't what frightened me. I was frightened by the sight of NO ASIANS in this ASIAN restaurant. In fact, the waitstaff consisted of all white women no younger than 60 years old. No joke. I thought I had somehow made a wrong turn and ended up at the Poodle Dog in Tacoma. In fact, that's about what the place looked like, but scaled down and not as cool. At least at the Poodle Dog, you know what you're getting yourself into when you walk in. I was not prepared for this.
I looked over the menu to try to decide what to order. Of course, I recognized the names of all the meals but was a bit nervous as to what we would be presented with. I couldn't help but notice the patrons that ate next to us. Old. They were very old people. To my left and to my right. Old people. Then the people that came in to pick up their lunch were OLD. WHERE THE HELL WAS I?!!!
Deep breath.
Farrah and I went safe. I ordered the Almond Chicken and she ordered the Sweet and Sour Chicken. "Is that all white meat?" "No, honey it's a mix." Goddamnit. First we were served the "soup". You know the kind you usually get before your meal? It's usually Egg Flower soup, right? Right. Well, their version of Egg Flower soup had the typical Egg Flower noodley stuff, along with peas, carrots, meat, canned mushrooms, barley. Barley? Yep. That's typical right? Yes...in BEEF BARLEY SOUP. To be polite I tried the broth. Tasted like Beef Barley soup. Yuck. Well, that got pushed aside and laughed at. Then our lunch arrived. I had the biggest grin on my face because I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was blogging about this meal. Abso-freakin-lutely. It looked like I had 5 giant chicken thighs deep fried in thick batter and covered in a gravy-esque substance that looked like something that belonged over a turkey dinner. It was dusted with remnants of almonds. That's how it was justified to be called Almond Chicken. In the center of my plate was cheap old-school style Pork Chow Mein. No pork. No noodles. Just a LOT of celery, some bean sprouts, and those Chinese noodle crackers. I swear to god I was picturing some old lady in the back reading from some Betty Crocker cookbook on how to prepare Chinese Food. But I knew that couldn't be the case because just about everything from Betty Crocker is spectacular.
Farrah's plate was almost identical to mine only with a pink sauce over the top. I had to cut her meat for her and look for pieces I was comfortable to serve her. She seemed to enjoy her meal just fine, but that's because she primarily ate her rice (which also had canned mushrooms in it). She drowned her rice and everything else on her plate with soy sauce which probably helped. I had also been so bold as to order the fried shrimp on the side. I'm used to getting shrimp the size of half a hot dog. No, these were precooked and precurled shrimp, so they looked like the size of a mushroom. I had to taste the mustard that came with it to make sure it was Chinese mustard and not basic Yellow mustard. Score one for them. It was kinda the real deal.
When the waitress came around to check on us she said, "Oh, it looks like you two still have some work to do." Again, sounding like a waitress from the Poodle Dog. "No, we're good, thanks." "I'll get you some boxes." "That's okay." All I could picture was how cruel that would be to make my garbage can outside endure the smell, let alone my car for the whole 10 minutes to get back to my house. I knew I'd have to make different plans for dinner since leftover "Chinese" food wasn't going to be it. So...uh...yeah. We won't be going back there. At least I know it won't be on my "Hey, let's go eat at fill in the blank tonight" list.
Those things weren't what frightened me. I was frightened by the sight of NO ASIANS in this ASIAN restaurant. In fact, the waitstaff consisted of all white women no younger than 60 years old. No joke. I thought I had somehow made a wrong turn and ended up at the Poodle Dog in Tacoma. In fact, that's about what the place looked like, but scaled down and not as cool. At least at the Poodle Dog, you know what you're getting yourself into when you walk in. I was not prepared for this.
I looked over the menu to try to decide what to order. Of course, I recognized the names of all the meals but was a bit nervous as to what we would be presented with. I couldn't help but notice the patrons that ate next to us. Old. They were very old people. To my left and to my right. Old people. Then the people that came in to pick up their lunch were OLD. WHERE THE HELL WAS I?!!!
Deep breath.
Farrah and I went safe. I ordered the Almond Chicken and she ordered the Sweet and Sour Chicken. "Is that all white meat?" "No, honey it's a mix." Goddamnit. First we were served the "soup". You know the kind you usually get before your meal? It's usually Egg Flower soup, right? Right. Well, their version of Egg Flower soup had the typical Egg Flower noodley stuff, along with peas, carrots, meat, canned mushrooms, barley. Barley? Yep. That's typical right? Yes...in BEEF BARLEY SOUP. To be polite I tried the broth. Tasted like Beef Barley soup. Yuck. Well, that got pushed aside and laughed at. Then our lunch arrived. I had the biggest grin on my face because I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was blogging about this meal. Abso-freakin-lutely. It looked like I had 5 giant chicken thighs deep fried in thick batter and covered in a gravy-esque substance that looked like something that belonged over a turkey dinner. It was dusted with remnants of almonds. That's how it was justified to be called Almond Chicken. In the center of my plate was cheap old-school style Pork Chow Mein. No pork. No noodles. Just a LOT of celery, some bean sprouts, and those Chinese noodle crackers. I swear to god I was picturing some old lady in the back reading from some Betty Crocker cookbook on how to prepare Chinese Food. But I knew that couldn't be the case because just about everything from Betty Crocker is spectacular.
Farrah's plate was almost identical to mine only with a pink sauce over the top. I had to cut her meat for her and look for pieces I was comfortable to serve her. She seemed to enjoy her meal just fine, but that's because she primarily ate her rice (which also had canned mushrooms in it). She drowned her rice and everything else on her plate with soy sauce which probably helped. I had also been so bold as to order the fried shrimp on the side. I'm used to getting shrimp the size of half a hot dog. No, these were precooked and precurled shrimp, so they looked like the size of a mushroom. I had to taste the mustard that came with it to make sure it was Chinese mustard and not basic Yellow mustard. Score one for them. It was kinda the real deal.
When the waitress came around to check on us she said, "Oh, it looks like you two still have some work to do." Again, sounding like a waitress from the Poodle Dog. "No, we're good, thanks." "I'll get you some boxes." "That's okay." All I could picture was how cruel that would be to make my garbage can outside endure the smell, let alone my car for the whole 10 minutes to get back to my house. I knew I'd have to make different plans for dinner since leftover "Chinese" food wasn't going to be it. So...uh...yeah. We won't be going back there. At least I know it won't be on my "Hey, let's go eat at fill in the blank tonight" list.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Farrah-isms
Farrah has an awesome sense of humor. Lately, her "thing" is to blame Toby on her farts. I have no idea where she got this since we haven't had him that long, but the way in which she pulls this off is quite amusing: Pffffft "That wasn't me, Mom. Serious. It was Toby. Toby farted." "Are you sure that wasn't you Farrah? Toby is upstairs asleep. How could that have been him?" "I don't know Mom, but I know it wasn't me. It was Toby."
She tells this little lie so convincingly. Great.
Things aren't "humungous" they're "REmungous".
She's picked up on the word we now use around the house, "donzo". We heard it on a TV show and we thought it was hilarious and so we've used it for the past two weeks. Today, Farrah looked at my dinner plate and said, "Mom, look at your plate! You're almost donzo!" So proud of her.
There are, of course, so many more and I'll post them as I think of them. It's just a lil' late and I've got to get some sleep. My little girl graduates from preschool tomorrow and I can't believe it. The next post will be a sappy one...
She tells this little lie so convincingly. Great.
Things aren't "humungous" they're "REmungous".
She's picked up on the word we now use around the house, "donzo". We heard it on a TV show and we thought it was hilarious and so we've used it for the past two weeks. Today, Farrah looked at my dinner plate and said, "Mom, look at your plate! You're almost donzo!" So proud of her.
There are, of course, so many more and I'll post them as I think of them. It's just a lil' late and I've got to get some sleep. My little girl graduates from preschool tomorrow and I can't believe it. The next post will be a sappy one...
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Toby Juan K'nobe
I'm not quite sure why I haven't blogged about this, but...we have a dog! We got him about a month ago. About six months ago, I had decided it was time. I had grown up my whole life always having a pet or pets. We'd had dogs, cats, birds, rabbits, a lizzard, and for about a week - a gold fish. Mind you, we did not have all of these at once. Pretty sure my mother would have lost her damn mind. However, we never only had just one pet at a time. It always had a companion.
This thought was what brought me to the decision. Farrah essentially is an only child. She has two older brothers but their age seperation is so extreme it makes it hard for a 22 year old to relate to a four year old. Well...mostly. ; )- I started doing some research on what kind of dog would be good for our home. Farrah is allergic to some dogs, but it varies. It's not always long haired dogs or short haired dogs. Small or big. It's very random. So, I had to look up the hypoallergnic dogs and try and find one that would do. Well, I didn't like my options. Pretty much all of the dogs were some sort of "foo-foo" poodle-esque dog or something that was as big as a rat. I just can't do those breeds.
My interest was fading. I've had German Sheppards, Bull Mastiffs and Rottweilers. Tough dogs. Big dogs. I couldn't go from that to something I'd have to end up being super delicate with or name it "Tootsie" because it's so petite. No thank you. I happened to stumble upon a dog called a Bull Terrier. They're a little goofy looking, but stocky. Not bad. Then when I googled photos, it pulled up another breed; the Staffy Terrier. That one looked kinda bad ass. Then I googled photos for that dog, and then a big/little boy jumped out at me. It's called the American Bully. Another word for it is the Razor's Edge. It looked like a canine version of Mike. Loved this dog. So, I started to do some reading and some research about the breed and fell in love. It is a mix of several breeds in the "Bully" family and it pulled the best of each breed to make a short, stocky, muscular, loving, loyal, guardian. It seemed like a miniature Rotty. Love.
I did some searching and there was only one breeder I could find in Washington State and it was all the way in Ephrata. I was not impressed with it's dogs. So, I looked online and found the best site that didn't look as "gangsta" as some others and it was all the way in Memphis. I talked to a guy named Christopher who spent a good hour of his time educating me about the breed. He didn't have any pups, so he referred me to his friend who also spent another hour to discuss his dogs with me. Ultimately, I saw some pics I loved and picked my favorite. He's a tri (black, white, and cinnamon).
We had our pup shipped to us from Tennessee!! His first experience away from his litter was on a plane for 8 hours. We surprised Farrah by telling her we needed to drive a ways to go look at some big airplanes. Alex and Joanie took us and we ended up at the Delta Cargo building. We told her we needed to take care of some business and she was welcome to come with us. I signed some papers and a crate was handed over to me. Farrah noticed there was a dog inside, but it didn't quite click right away that this dog was coming home with us until we got to the car. Jumping up and down she squealed, "We have a puppy!!!" It was super exciting to watch her. She got to pick the name. We had the names Jerry, Carl, and Kevin picked out. But Farrah had a different idea. She liked the name Toby. (Isn't that Gramma Rita's dog's name?) Simple and cute. It's her pup, so she got to pick the name. My favorite, however was Carl and Kevin. I had to tag on Juan K'nobe. Not because I'm a Star Wars fan, but because it's funny. She and I call him Toby, Tobe, Tobes, Tobers, Toberone, and when he's in trouble he gets the full name screamed at him.
He has a big head and a lil' body. He will have a GIANT head, will be about 17" tall, and he'll weigh 80 pounds. He's super smart and loving. Here's a picture of our little monster.
Welcome to the family!
This thought was what brought me to the decision. Farrah essentially is an only child. She has two older brothers but their age seperation is so extreme it makes it hard for a 22 year old to relate to a four year old. Well...mostly. ; )- I started doing some research on what kind of dog would be good for our home. Farrah is allergic to some dogs, but it varies. It's not always long haired dogs or short haired dogs. Small or big. It's very random. So, I had to look up the hypoallergnic dogs and try and find one that would do. Well, I didn't like my options. Pretty much all of the dogs were some sort of "foo-foo" poodle-esque dog or something that was as big as a rat. I just can't do those breeds.
My interest was fading. I've had German Sheppards, Bull Mastiffs and Rottweilers. Tough dogs. Big dogs. I couldn't go from that to something I'd have to end up being super delicate with or name it "Tootsie" because it's so petite. No thank you. I happened to stumble upon a dog called a Bull Terrier. They're a little goofy looking, but stocky. Not bad. Then when I googled photos, it pulled up another breed; the Staffy Terrier. That one looked kinda bad ass. Then I googled photos for that dog, and then a big/little boy jumped out at me. It's called the American Bully. Another word for it is the Razor's Edge. It looked like a canine version of Mike. Loved this dog. So, I started to do some reading and some research about the breed and fell in love. It is a mix of several breeds in the "Bully" family and it pulled the best of each breed to make a short, stocky, muscular, loving, loyal, guardian. It seemed like a miniature Rotty. Love.
I did some searching and there was only one breeder I could find in Washington State and it was all the way in Ephrata. I was not impressed with it's dogs. So, I looked online and found the best site that didn't look as "gangsta" as some others and it was all the way in Memphis. I talked to a guy named Christopher who spent a good hour of his time educating me about the breed. He didn't have any pups, so he referred me to his friend who also spent another hour to discuss his dogs with me. Ultimately, I saw some pics I loved and picked my favorite. He's a tri (black, white, and cinnamon).
We had our pup shipped to us from Tennessee!! His first experience away from his litter was on a plane for 8 hours. We surprised Farrah by telling her we needed to drive a ways to go look at some big airplanes. Alex and Joanie took us and we ended up at the Delta Cargo building. We told her we needed to take care of some business and she was welcome to come with us. I signed some papers and a crate was handed over to me. Farrah noticed there was a dog inside, but it didn't quite click right away that this dog was coming home with us until we got to the car. Jumping up and down she squealed, "We have a puppy!!!" It was super exciting to watch her. She got to pick the name. We had the names Jerry, Carl, and Kevin picked out. But Farrah had a different idea. She liked the name Toby. (Isn't that Gramma Rita's dog's name?) Simple and cute. It's her pup, so she got to pick the name. My favorite, however was Carl and Kevin. I had to tag on Juan K'nobe. Not because I'm a Star Wars fan, but because it's funny. She and I call him Toby, Tobe, Tobes, Tobers, Toberone, and when he's in trouble he gets the full name screamed at him.
He has a big head and a lil' body. He will have a GIANT head, will be about 17" tall, and he'll weigh 80 pounds. He's super smart and loving. Here's a picture of our little monster.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Cat.
Our neighbors have a cat who is a complete asshole. Whenever Toby goes outside for a walk or to go potty, that damn cat bugs him. He is an asshole. It's the only word I can come up with to describe him. I hate that cat! Poor Toby is working on his training and out of nowhere, we can hear the tinkling of a tiny little bell. The asshole cat is sneaking up to bother Toby. Even tonight, at "late thirty" I took him out to do his business, and the cat came running from the very end of the street just to distract him. I don't wish the cat any harm, but it's hard to not just let him off his leash to chase it. Grrrr.
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