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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. :)

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.

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.

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. 

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...

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!

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.

A Ren & Stimpy Kind of a Day

So, today was one of those days.  One of those days when my voice was a little bit louder, my pitch was a little bit higher, my eyeballs were a little bit bulgier, and my overall mood was...well...a little moodier.  It's not due to my period or anything hormonal.  This is being a mom.  This is being a mom to a 4 year old little girl who hates to wake up in the morning and a mom to a 10 week old puppy.  I've been busy at work with staying on top of things that seem to constantly pile up, trying to be sure that Farrah is off to school on time or her outings with Michele, staying on top of Toby's potty training so there's always dog pee and poop outside rather than inside, making sure Toby gets his walks in when it's not dumping down rain, preparing dinners, lunches, breakfasts, and hoping I get a moment to break away and pee and poop myself.  Whew!  Even typing that made me a lil' tired.  Here's an idea of what I sounded like this morning.  While reading this, be sure to try and hear my voice start to get louder and strained and crazed:
"Farrah, it's time to get up"
"Toby drop that!"
"Farrah! Get up now. You're going to be late."
"I don't care that you don't want to get up. Get up! TOBY!!! Leave it!"
"You HAVE to take a shower. YES YOU DO! Get in the shower, I have to take Toby outside."
"Toby, go biiiiiiggg potty.  Good boy!  NO! Drop it!"
"FARRAH?!!! Why aren't you in the shower?!!!"
"Where's Toby?"
"TOBY!!!"
"Farrah get dressed. Get dressed. Get dressed. Get dressed. GET DRESSED!"

This was me this morning:

You get the idea.  I suppose I don't have to go through my entire morning, however, know that my evening ended very similarly, if not worse.  Farrah was putting her finger in Toby's cage in the smallest whole and got her finger stuck.  STUCK-stuck.  Now, this is when she becomes a teapot.  She starts with a whimpering whine and then turns into a shrieking siren.  Her screams are blood curdling.  Her screams make me scream.  My head is down by her head, therefore her screaming is directly into my ear canal.

Why the hell did she put her finger in there?  How the hell did it get stuck?  I suppose we should ask her Grandma Jan who gets her feet, hands, and fingers stuck in everything and has since she was Farrah's age.  Is that even a gene you can pick up?  So I was able to come to her rescue by putting some ice on her finger and hoping my memory of some science projects would work.  I figured I'd ice it until the swelling would go down enough for me to wiggle the gate door and free her finger.  Whew!! It worked, thank god.  Wasn't sure if I was going to have to go to the ER with her attached to the crate with Toby inside wondering what the eff was going on.  My evening ended with me looking a little like this...

Tomorrow I have every intention to be a little more like this...

Easter 2011

I've blogged about this in the past, but it is this time of year that brings back so many memories of my Grandpa, John Kochrian.  This year in particular there are a lot of thoughts about him as well as my Grandma Virginia.  My parents just bought a new home (finally) which is about a 30-40 minute drive to my Grandma's.  She is 89 years old living in a 55+ trailer park where my parents were living to assist her and where my aunt and uncle live to also help her.  So, since Auntie Dianne and Uncle Mike do a lot of traveling (to visit my cousins or for leisure) they aren't as available.  Mom and dad moving has also made it so that it was time for a decision to be made.  It was time for Grandma to move to an assisted living apartment.  I think this hit all of us very hard, but not nearly as hard as Grandma.  I've only seen Grandma cry a small handful of times.  The first few times was when Grandpa was dying and at the last days of his life.  The latest time was when I was visiting her at her home, the only home I've ever known my grandparents to have ever lived in, and she started to fall apart when she said, "This is the last connection of your Grandfather that I have."  Broke my heart.  She's been scared and worried to make this move.  This LIFE move.
But I was invited to bring Farrah to her new place this last Sunday.  The place does programs constantly to keep them busy and LIVING their LIVES!  They had an early Easter Egg Hunt and Brunch.  Farrah and I got busy by stratagizing.  I sent Farrah far off from where the other kids were eyeballing the very visible eggs, forgetting there was another 1000+ square feet to rummage through.  She faired very well.  When we looked outside, that was when the memories of Grandpa came flooding in.  Where were the eggs that were supposed to be hiding IN the tulips?  Where were the eggs that were hiding in the much too high grass?  Where were the eggs hiding in the gutter drain?  This would be Grandpa John's way of thinking.  Get the kids on the verge of tears and then lead them in the right direction.
Anyway, the egg hunt went well and Farrah was kind enough to point out some eggs to a little boy who showed up a little late so he wouldn't go without.
Grandma seems to be adjusting and actually seems excited about all the upcoming activities that are totally up her alley.  She's going to be okay.  I will forever miss her home that I've always known was a second home for me while growing up, but again, it'll be okay. :)

Flowers

I was told by a gal in Fuzion last week, about a book called "The Artist's Way" that she highly recommended that I read.  I loved how insightful she was (considering we dont' know each other) that I needed a little creative "pick-me-up".  I guess it's one of those self discovery type books and it's been around for quite a while.  Well, I looked into it and I'll probably end up buying it.  I really want to finish some books I've been working on and maybe get back into my painting again.  There was a website for the book and I checked out the forum section.  There was one article in particular that caught my eye and it was, "Beginning a New Relationship...with me!"  The girl talked about how she was going to start treating herself better and even start buying herself little presents from time to time.  The one thing she said she started doing right away was buying herself some flowers.  She'd pick out ones that would cheer up a room.  She even said she was getting ready to start mailing herself some cards from Hallmark.  I thought this was such a great idea!
So, today I went grocery shopping and one thing on my list:  Flowers for me!  I love them.  They're simple and sweet and add a little bit of sunshine to our home when it's been nothing but grey for months.  I picked out some purple daisies and pink/white daisies as well as some babies breath.  I picked out one of my crystal vases I received for our wedding and decorated it with my flowers.  I set it up nice and neatly on our kitchen table.  It wasn't before long that the itching begun...
What. The. Hell.
I never get to have things like this and the one time I know I SHOULD have them, I find I'm allergic.  So, I took a benadryl and will do my best not to touch my eyes after touching the flowers.  Wonderful and kind gesture to myself gone array.

Disturbing

We have Apple TV.  It's a little device that makes it so we can watch movies from Netflix.  Unfortunately, no one warned me that our movie selection could potentially be crap.  It is.  Mind you, it isn't all terrible.  It's just that they're all pretty old movies.  Nothing people would go to the DVD rental place and rent ON PURPOSE.  This is all purely accidental.  So, Farrah has made a discovery of movies she thoroughly enjoys.  Jim Henson movies.  You know, back before they had the technology to have real people engage with imaginary creatures that looked real, they had puppets or muppets.  She particularly loves Labyrinth.  David Bowie is in this film.  And I have to be perfectly honest...not a fan of the wardrobe chosen for his character.  It's a bit...revealing.  I'm not sure why the costume designer picked out this outfit for him to wear, but it's a tad gross.  "Aw, yes, a movie for children.  Let's put David in pants that looks like he has a whole drawer of socks where his "business" is."  See for yourself and try to stifle the upchuck.

Ummm...yeah.  How about a pair of jeans next time, okay David Bowie.  Oh, and the music in this film was a lil' weird.  But Farrah seems to enjoy it and, thank god, isn't noticing the blinding bulge.

Interference

I just had to post about this because it left me dumbfounded.  Yesterday, Farrah and I went out for breakfast at our local Patty's Eggnest.  I've eaten there before so I knew I was in store for some deliciousness and crappy coffee.  Well, part of the reason I take Farrah out from time to time on our little dates is to teach her proper "restaurant behavior" or public behavior, in general.  For the most part, she's wonderfully behaved.  It's actually something I'm proud of.  Sometimes, however, she needs a lil' work.  So, she had one of those days where the booster seat became a rocking chair, her spoon became her microphone, and 2 minutes into the meal it was time to go potty.  The thing that drives me the craziest is when she's out of her seat and not minding me.  I tell her to get in her seat in a manner which is gently threatening and to the point.  Sometimes I'm lucky and she takes me seriously and sometimes she pushes me to see how far she can take it before I give her the look of "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!"  So, our breakfast lasted about 20 minutes so we could get out and head home.  When we went up to the register to pay, no one was there to take our money right away so we waited.  While waiting, Farrah grew impatient and wanted to climb on a stool, grab at things, and touch everything around.  At this same time, I was doing the whole "Honey, don't touch that. Honey, get down. Farrah, do NOT make me ask you again.  Farrah did I just tell you to not touch that?"  Finally, I had had enough.  I leaned down face to face with her, and began explaining that she needed to mind me and keep her hands to herself, when our waitress who also was the person taking the money walked up and interrupted me by saying, "Oh honey, it's okay. You're being a REALLY good girl.  And GOOD girls get a prize for being SO well behaved.  Here, pick out a little toy for being SO GOOD."

My eyes went so big and almost popped out of my mother-lovin' eyes.  I could feel my hands start to shake and smoke come out of my ears.  Unfortunately, it is in my nature (for some god-awful reason) to keep my mouth shut and not making a scene.  I'm not a fan of conflict, especially public conflict (which is why I think Farrah pushes me).

This woman gave me a freakin' smug look without actually looking me in the eyes.  She interfered with my parenting and I wanted to smack her in the face for it.  She put me on the spot as if I was one of those women who drag their screaming child around the grocery store by the arm.  I try my best to keep Farrah behaving, and not acting out on my kid like a psycho.  But when someone wants to interrupt my JOB as a mother, I wanted to scratch her god damn eyes out.  While the food is great at that restaurant, I'll be ordering out from now on.

I vowed early on (in 2006) that I would NOT be raising an asshole.  I struggle from time to time when my 4 year old acts like a 14 year old and I know a big part of it is my own fault, but I'm doing my best.  I can do better, but if someone who doesn't know me OR MY DAUGHTER, can take their opinions and stick it up their ass.

Knock knock

Farrah is four.  So, she tells four-year-old jokes.  I've been trying to work with her on her joke telling skills and am not succeeding the way I wish that I would.  We have practiced the following joke hundreds of times:

Knock know
Who's there?
Interrupting cow
Interrupting cow (MOO!) who?

Buahahaahaahaa

Well, she can't pronounce "interrupting cow" clearly so it always sounds like "inner-ruppin' cow"!  I can understand her, but no one else really can so she doesn't get the response from her hilarious joke that she wants because she ends up having to tell it to that person about 5 times before they get it.

When I've tried to tell her new jokes, she thinks I'm making them up on the fly.  Not true.  The jokes I tell have been passed on from generation to generation and are of pure quality.  Her jokes on the other hand are terrible.  Really, really terrible.

For example:
Farrah:    Knock knock
Me:         Who's there?
Farrah:    Ummm, flowers
Me:          Flower's who?
Farrah:     Flowers the grass puppy is walking toots.  Is that a good one?!!  Is that a good one, Mommy?!!  Is it funny?!!!

Is it bad that I'm honest with her?  I just can't have my daughter going around telling bad jokes.  That just can't be my kid.  I think, for the most part, her dad and I have pretty good senses of humor and can be quite witty at times.  Could you imagine the embarrassment we would endure if Farrah went around telling jokes about balloons and the chair (these are just the random things that she saw in our house and turned into a joke)?  I couldn't show my face if I were to allow it.  So, I tell her, "no honey, that one wasn't a funny one."  I'm sure she gets confused because I tell her that while laughing.  She hasn't caught on to the concept of laughing at someone rather than with them.  In due time.

I should add in my daughter's defense something my mother reminded me of today.  A joke that my brothers and I would tell all the time:

Why did the elephant climb the tree?
Why?
SO HE COULD GET HIS MUSTARD
Hahahahahahahaha

There might be hope for her.

Boobies

Farrah:  Your boobies are gross Mommy

Me:  No they're not! They're grrrreat.

Farrah:  But they're so BIG.

Me:  Yep! I know.

Farrah:  But they need to stop growing.

Me:  Don't worry.  They're done growing.  They will NOT get any bigger.  Promise.

Farrah:  Good, because they're all "wobbly".

Me:  Well... they're kinda supposed to be.

Farrah:  Hmmm.

Me:  Never mind.

Things Are Happening

Hello out there, world.  Yep, I'm still here.  I'm just living my little life that seems to get bigger and bigger and bigger.  Therefore, the idea of taking some time out for me to type about, well, me...seemed like a silly idea until now.  I'm eating my lunch and choosing to try and enjoy it by NOT reading work emails and going over various tax thingies or employee issues.  I'll be thrilled if I actually finish this entry and publish it.  I still haven't finished my story about my and Mike's wedding!!  Geez, I'll get back to it, I promise. 

So...what's been going on?  Sooooo much!  The gyms are busy and we have a wonderful group of people working there.  And dammit, I will include myself in that group!  We are making moves to make the gyms bigger and better and improved.  It's an exciting, busy, difficult at times, process.  However, when it is all said and done it will be amazing.
And then there's Fuzion.  Oh Em Gee.  Can it get better?  Yes!  And it does pretty much every freakin' day!  Who knew?  We did.  Yay!  We are now officially on Amazon.com.  That is not something that is simply handed to you on a silver tray.  It was an incredible opportunity for both businesses and Amazon clearly saw something in us to want us to be a part of what they do, so hurray for the team!!! 

Mike has been working his ass off everyday.  E-V-E-R-Y-D-A-Y.  It has been a challenge to adapt to this new life schedule for me, Farrah, and of course, Mike.  We cross paths as often as we can, but with so many pots on the fire, Mike is stretched pretty thin with his time.  Luckily we have delegated gym things to others, but working with Amazon, the investors, the whole marketing crew, and Airvoice, and on and on and on, it's tough with only 24 hours in a day.  I have to say he's doing a GREAT job and is succeeding everyday.  It's funny because he'll call me with new good news everyday.  How is that possible?  I guess it just is. 

We just got back from the 2010 Pro Bowl in Hawaii.  It was our first program with the new marketing team, DTI.  It's good to know people who know people.  That philosophy got us VERY far while working in Hawaii.  Yes, that's right, we were WORKING.  I can't tell how many people said, "Enjoy yourself while you're there! You guys deserve a break!"  We do deserve a break, but that wasn't breaktime. :)  We got off the plane, got to our rental car, got to the hotel, and went to the DTI room at the hotel and got right to work.  We didn't even go to our room!  Can you imagine how smelly we probably were from sitting cramped in a large airplane for 6 and a half hours?  I can.  Yup.  Gross. 

After we got all of the Fuzion products organized and tasked everything out, we were finally able to go to our room and change.  The people we are working with know several (if not all) of the NFL players.  We met several players while we were there.  I believe we rested for 3 hours while we were there.  And while I technically was taking a break, Mike was not.  He was right by my side, but texting away, checking his emails, and making phone calls.  The little bit of Hawaii we got to see, was beautiful.  People asked if we had a chance to go to the beach and we lied and said we had.  Nope.  We walked on a sidewalk that was near the beach.  I did, however, take time every morning to get up before Mike (which is very unusual) brewed some hotel coffee, went out on our 19th floor balcony, and read my book for a good 30 minutes to an hour.  That was my little R & R that I gave myself.  My little treat to me.

I'm very proud of all that we did and all that we were able to come back with.  How cool is it to say, "Hey you know that guy who did that really nice thing for that kid on TV last week that brought tears to everyone's eyes.  Yeah, he's with us.  He's using our service."  Seriously!!  How freakin' cool?!!  When we came home to being up and running on Amazon, Mike was beside himself.  He said, "Okay, now get ready for a crazy ride! This will be a whirlwind!"  I'm extremely proud of all his hard work because he deserves to succeed.  And he will.

So, this is just the beginning of what has taken a year to put together.  But this will be an awesome beginning to a life that is only imagined.  We will live it...

Farrah's First Nightmare

This morning, Farrah told me she had a nightmare.  "What was it about?" I asked. Then she continued to explain...

"You had fallen in the toilet.  And I couldn't get you out.  I was scared because I couldn't save you.  Daddy tried to get you out."  "Was the toilet big?"  She whispered, "You were very small and the toilet was very big."

I just asked her, "How did I fall in the toilet?"
Farrah:  "There was so much stuff (whispered)."
Me:  "Like what stuff?  Poop?"
Farrah:  "No!!  So much pee (whispered).  And you fell in."
Me:  "How did I get out?!!"
Farrah:  "Daddy. He saved you. And then you grew and grew and grew."
Me:  "Like Alice in Wonderland?"
Farrah:  "No, like a Mommy."


The End

P.S.  She wanted me to erase this because she never wanted to have this dream ever ever again.  Must have been quite upsetting, but considering I'M the one who was swimming in pee, I should be scared.

"ERASE IT!!!"  "Why?"  "BECAUSE I DON'T LIKE IT!!!"

This kid is weird

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

Code Words

Tonight's conversation with our daughter:

Farrah: Can I sleep with you guys tonight?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She makes us laugh out loud. :)

Wedding March 3

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

So, to continue...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay so that was the music find.

Time Line Error

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

In Need of a Toilet

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

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

I had to plan...

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

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

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

This Generation

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

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

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

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

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

Farrah...

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

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

Girls' Day Out

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

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

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

Prayer

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

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

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

Wedding March 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wedding March

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

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

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

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

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

Oops

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

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

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

Dear Farrah July 2010

To my little girl:

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

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

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

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

Here's what you say:

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

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

"Butter-lye" (butterfly)

"Can I have dese? (these)"

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

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

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

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

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

I'll have to upload photos later...

Been a While

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

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

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

Whew!

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