We're home. Our plane landed around midnight and I think I managed to get to sleep around 2:30 a.m....and up again just before 6 a.m. to head in to work. Tell me that wasn't planned well. Sheesh. Sometimes I think I can do more than I really can. What I can't do well is operate like a normal human being on four hours of sleep. It's just not happening.
When we walked off the plane and into that tunnel thing into the terminal the first thing we all noticed was the heaviness in the air. And the rivulets of water running down the interior walls of the tunnel. Humidity anyone? The real temperature here is the same as it was in California, but it feels about 20 degrees hotter. And hard to breathe. And heavy. Oh, so heavy and thick.
From golden (aka dead grass everywhere) yet dusty California to tropical, wet and incredibly green Illinois. What a difference! My skin already feels better, less like a dried up raisin and more like a juicy peach. But this being drenched in sweat as soon as you walk outside thing just sucks. I forgot how much it sucks.
Did you know that grass can grow FEET in a mere ten days? Seriously. It can. I don't know where my flower beds are, but I'm pretty sure they are hiding somewhere in the jungle that was once my lawn. Incredible. I think I saw wild animals creeping through the grass and stalking my dogs this morning. I told the hubster that if I die first while we still live on the farm, he'd best just pack up all his stuff and find a nice condo where someone else will do the yardwork for him. Because a mowin' man he ain't. He just doesn't do yard work. I do yard work and barn work while he folds the laundry. It works for me. Except when I'm gone, then it's extra work for me.
I have TONS of wonderful photos. Tons. And they are beautiful. I can't wait to share!
Showing posts with label family outings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family outings. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Hiding in the high Sierras
The girls and I have been in California visting my mom and her husband on their ranch in the mountains since last week. We'll be here until next week. We spent the weekend, Monday and Tuesday really roughing it deep in the Sierras, far out of reach of any kind of cell service, running water, electricity or signs of civilization. It was WONDERFUL! We went horse back riding in the mountains. You haven't truly lived until you've viewed the moutains and valleys on top of a horse. Seriously. It's amazing.
I thought we had a pretty awesome view of the stars at our house...out in the mountains its entirely different. I had a hard time finding the familiar constellations because there are so many "extra" stars up there! I could even see the dust in the rings of the Milky Way. Incredibly humbling.
We're back at the ranch today and are planning to visit some old gold mining towns and tour an old gold mine museum. Should be fun! I have tons of pictures of us riding up the mountains but the internet connection isn't that fabulous out here so I'll save the uploading of photos for when I get back to Illinois.
I thought we had a pretty awesome view of the stars at our house...out in the mountains its entirely different. I had a hard time finding the familiar constellations because there are so many "extra" stars up there! I could even see the dust in the rings of the Milky Way. Incredibly humbling.
We're back at the ranch today and are planning to visit some old gold mining towns and tour an old gold mine museum. Should be fun! I have tons of pictures of us riding up the mountains but the internet connection isn't that fabulous out here so I'll save the uploading of photos for when I get back to Illinois.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Sugar highs at the old folks home
We did something a little different for Halloween this year. I thought about TPing the neighbors...but it would have required too much effort. And their peacocks are attack peacocks. I swear they are. They would have run me off the property by using those nasty peacock beaks.
This year we went to the nursing home to start our trick-or-treating evening. Did you know the old folks get an absolute kick out of seeing all the little kids in costume? And I got all warm and fuzzy inside seeing the smiles on those wizened faces.
When I told Unruly where we were going she wasn't very happy about it at all. Even after I told her we were meeting some of our friends there she was still reluctant to go.
"Mom, old people scare me," she confided in a whisper. "I don't want to go."
"Why do they scare you?" I asked.
"I don't know. Because their skin doesn't fit right," she shared. "And sometimes they talk funny."
Okay, I can understand that. She isn't around very many senior citizens so is unfamiliar with aging. And aging CAN be scary.
As we walked through the nursing home, stopping at room doors, trick-or-treating the elderly, some in wheelchairs, some attached to beeping, blipping machines Unruly loosened up and really opened up to them. Some of the women were decked out in their Red Hat Ladies outfits and purple feather boas. Men wore Civil War costumes or dressed as pirates. There were witches and even a Raggedy Ann.
After I pointed out the pretty hats and costumes to Unruly and complimented the wearers, she soon took it upon herself to compliment and comment on every costume worn by a resident of the nursing home. I think she liked to see them smile when she sidled up close to a wheelchair and talked to them.
She is, by nature, a nurturer, and her nurturing spirit was vibrant Halloween night. She loves to make people feel good about themselves and isn't shy about saying what's on her mind. If she likes your shoes, she says so.
She wasn't scared any more. The old people were no longer a scary unknown. She learned something from the experience and I think it helped her grow and mature a little more.
"That wasn't bad at all, was it?" I asked as we left the nursing home, candy sack full of candy, pencils, little toys, puzzles and other odds and ends.
"They weren't as scary as I thought they were," she said. "I liked them a lot. They were nice. But why are they so small? And why is their skin so big?"
So I tried to explain aging and the human body to her. And made the unfortunate mistake of comparing skin to the elastic waistband of a pair of underwear.
"You know, when you have an old pair of panties and the waistband gets all stretched out and doesn't go back to where it's supposed to? That's what happens to your skin when you get old. It's gets all stretched out and saggy."
"Mom, that's just gross. You just said the old people are like underwear."
I guess I kind of did, didn't I?
Despite comparing the old folks to underwear, I think it was probably one of the best trick-or-treating experiences we've had.
This year we went to the nursing home to start our trick-or-treating evening. Did you know the old folks get an absolute kick out of seeing all the little kids in costume? And I got all warm and fuzzy inside seeing the smiles on those wizened faces.
When I told Unruly where we were going she wasn't very happy about it at all. Even after I told her we were meeting some of our friends there she was still reluctant to go.
"Mom, old people scare me," she confided in a whisper. "I don't want to go."
"Why do they scare you?" I asked.
"I don't know. Because their skin doesn't fit right," she shared. "And sometimes they talk funny."
Okay, I can understand that. She isn't around very many senior citizens so is unfamiliar with aging. And aging CAN be scary.
As we walked through the nursing home, stopping at room doors, trick-or-treating the elderly, some in wheelchairs, some attached to beeping, blipping machines Unruly loosened up and really opened up to them. Some of the women were decked out in their Red Hat Ladies outfits and purple feather boas. Men wore Civil War costumes or dressed as pirates. There were witches and even a Raggedy Ann.
After I pointed out the pretty hats and costumes to Unruly and complimented the wearers, she soon took it upon herself to compliment and comment on every costume worn by a resident of the nursing home. I think she liked to see them smile when she sidled up close to a wheelchair and talked to them.
She is, by nature, a nurturer, and her nurturing spirit was vibrant Halloween night. She loves to make people feel good about themselves and isn't shy about saying what's on her mind. If she likes your shoes, she says so.
She wasn't scared any more. The old people were no longer a scary unknown. She learned something from the experience and I think it helped her grow and mature a little more.
"That wasn't bad at all, was it?" I asked as we left the nursing home, candy sack full of candy, pencils, little toys, puzzles and other odds and ends.
"They weren't as scary as I thought they were," she said. "I liked them a lot. They were nice. But why are they so small? And why is their skin so big?"
So I tried to explain aging and the human body to her. And made the unfortunate mistake of comparing skin to the elastic waistband of a pair of underwear.
"You know, when you have an old pair of panties and the waistband gets all stretched out and doesn't go back to where it's supposed to? That's what happens to your skin when you get old. It's gets all stretched out and saggy."
"Mom, that's just gross. You just said the old people are like underwear."
I guess I kind of did, didn't I?
Despite comparing the old folks to underwear, I think it was probably one of the best trick-or-treating experiences we've had.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
So, this journalist walks into a bar....
Back to work, back to work. The vacation is over. *sigh* It's good to be back, believe it or not.
I LOVE my job. I really do, I'm not just saying that. There are some days when I absolutely hate it, but it's the people I hate (usually my editors!), not the job itself. What other job in the world pays you to spend a day on the lake in a sailboat to cover a race? Or gives you the opportunity to ride along in a WWII era stunt-plane, not just once, but twice? Or the chance to fly with the Thunderbirds, meet the president (not that he impresses me, but still...) and talk to some of the most interesting people in the region?
There aren't many jobs like mine, I know that much. I love talking to people and listening to their amazing, inspiring, heartbreaking, thought-provoking stories, but even more, I love sharing those stories with thousands of people and giving them a public voice. And I do that pretty well, if I do say so myself. From time to time I lose all professionalism and actually cry when hearing a particularly sad story. I've hugged moms who lost their sons in Iraq, cried with moms whose child has been raped or murdered and I've rejoiced with the people who have overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles.
I think I do some good, in my own small way. I'm not moving mountains or winning Pulizters, but I'm giving a voice to the people who might not otherwise be heard. And that's enough for me. I love doing it.
But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be able to stay home with my girls, at least during the summer. Would I love it as much as sometimes think I would? I don't know. Sometimes, being home with the girls DRIVES. ME. BATTY. They get on my nerves and when they do, I threaten to go to work just to get away from them and find a little peace and quiet. I know, that sounds terrible, and I feel pretty bad for saying it, but, there it is.
For the most part, I loved being home and just goofing off with the girls. It was fabulous to not have to rush, rush, rush to get out of the house in the morning and just hang out in my pajamas while enjoying my morning coffee and making breakfast instead of dumping cold cereal into a bowl. To wake up in the morning and think... "Hmmm...what to do today?" and then decide to sit around and just chill with the kids for awhile. We swam, camped and fished, hiked and went to the zoo, rode the horse, walked the dogs and worked on the chicken coop. Unruly and I had a couple of picnics and built a "fort" in the living room. We colored and painted, played board games, watched bad movies and went shopping.
Could I do that all the time? For months at a time? EVERY DAY? I don't think I could. But who knows, maybe I would surprise myself.
I LOVE my job. I really do, I'm not just saying that. There are some days when I absolutely hate it, but it's the people I hate (usually my editors!), not the job itself. What other job in the world pays you to spend a day on the lake in a sailboat to cover a race? Or gives you the opportunity to ride along in a WWII era stunt-plane, not just once, but twice? Or the chance to fly with the Thunderbirds, meet the president (not that he impresses me, but still...) and talk to some of the most interesting people in the region?
There aren't many jobs like mine, I know that much. I love talking to people and listening to their amazing, inspiring, heartbreaking, thought-provoking stories, but even more, I love sharing those stories with thousands of people and giving them a public voice. And I do that pretty well, if I do say so myself. From time to time I lose all professionalism and actually cry when hearing a particularly sad story. I've hugged moms who lost their sons in Iraq, cried with moms whose child has been raped or murdered and I've rejoiced with the people who have overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles.
I think I do some good, in my own small way. I'm not moving mountains or winning Pulizters, but I'm giving a voice to the people who might not otherwise be heard. And that's enough for me. I love doing it.
But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be able to stay home with my girls, at least during the summer. Would I love it as much as sometimes think I would? I don't know. Sometimes, being home with the girls DRIVES. ME. BATTY. They get on my nerves and when they do, I threaten to go to work just to get away from them and find a little peace and quiet. I know, that sounds terrible, and I feel pretty bad for saying it, but, there it is.
For the most part, I loved being home and just goofing off with the girls. It was fabulous to not have to rush, rush, rush to get out of the house in the morning and just hang out in my pajamas while enjoying my morning coffee and making breakfast instead of dumping cold cereal into a bowl. To wake up in the morning and think... "Hmmm...what to do today?" and then decide to sit around and just chill with the kids for awhile. We swam, camped and fished, hiked and went to the zoo, rode the horse, walked the dogs and worked on the chicken coop. Unruly and I had a couple of picnics and built a "fort" in the living room. We colored and painted, played board games, watched bad movies and went shopping.
Could I do that all the time? For months at a time? EVERY DAY? I don't think I could. But who knows, maybe I would surprise myself.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Summer campin' we will go
Well, we are nearly through week two of Unruly Takes on Summer Camp Counselors.
Week One was fabulous. The counselors truly enjoyed having her and had such wonderful things to say about her:"She is the most caring, free-spirited child I have ever met," "I can't believe how much she knows!" "She really loves nature, doesn't she?" She LOVED camp every. single. day. She fell asleep in the back seat of my car every afternoon, not lasting even 10 minutes after I picked her up. The swimming, hiking, canoeing, playing and running, learning about outdoor stuff, climbing the rock wall, archery...it all kept her wonderfully active and engaged all day long.
I dropped her off every morning with a hug and a reminder to have a fun day. I didn't sit at work and worry and wait for The Call from a camp counselor about her behavior.
She loves to stay busy. The moment she feels a little bit bored is the moment things start going downhill. And as soon as things start going downhill, it's game over for the rest of the day, the behavior goes into a spiral of absolute naughtiness.
Week Two has not been so fabulous. This week she is at a different camp, an indoor camp. A camp that involves a lot of sitting, working on art projects and organized activities. A lot of activities without a lot of "active." She is not a happy camper this week. Two incident reports and a chat with the camp organizer about her behavior, the behavior that involves yelling and name calling and hitting and kicking have marked this week as not-so-great. The icky, less-than-civilized behavior that rears its nasty little head when boredom seeps into her day.
The next camp is back at the outdoor camp, thank goodness. I'm anticipating a week of wonderful behavior and a very tired, very happy camper at the end of the day.
So, next week I'm off work, and she has no camp. We have nothing in particular planned for the week, I just wanted to take a week off to spend some time with my kiddos. We will take an overnight trip to the lake and fish and camp and cook hotdogs. I will set up the tent in our yard and we'll get the bonfire going at least one or two nights. We'll spend a lot of time swimming and hiking in the woods.
We like to swim!
We'll probably finally get around to hiking up to the old cavalry fort/Indian trading post just across a corn field from us.
And I'll sleep in. At least until 6 a.m. I'm one exhausted momma.
Week One was fabulous. The counselors truly enjoyed having her and had such wonderful things to say about her:"She is the most caring, free-spirited child I have ever met," "I can't believe how much she knows!" "She really loves nature, doesn't she?" She LOVED camp every. single. day. She fell asleep in the back seat of my car every afternoon, not lasting even 10 minutes after I picked her up. The swimming, hiking, canoeing, playing and running, learning about outdoor stuff, climbing the rock wall, archery...it all kept her wonderfully active and engaged all day long.
I dropped her off every morning with a hug and a reminder to have a fun day. I didn't sit at work and worry and wait for The Call from a camp counselor about her behavior.
She loves to stay busy. The moment she feels a little bit bored is the moment things start going downhill. And as soon as things start going downhill, it's game over for the rest of the day, the behavior goes into a spiral of absolute naughtiness.
Week Two has not been so fabulous. This week she is at a different camp, an indoor camp. A camp that involves a lot of sitting, working on art projects and organized activities. A lot of activities without a lot of "active." She is not a happy camper this week. Two incident reports and a chat with the camp organizer about her behavior, the behavior that involves yelling and name calling and hitting and kicking have marked this week as not-so-great. The icky, less-than-civilized behavior that rears its nasty little head when boredom seeps into her day.
The next camp is back at the outdoor camp, thank goodness. I'm anticipating a week of wonderful behavior and a very tired, very happy camper at the end of the day.
So, next week I'm off work, and she has no camp. We have nothing in particular planned for the week, I just wanted to take a week off to spend some time with my kiddos. We will take an overnight trip to the lake and fish and camp and cook hotdogs. I will set up the tent in our yard and we'll get the bonfire going at least one or two nights. We'll spend a lot of time swimming and hiking in the woods.
We like to swim!
We'll probably finally get around to hiking up to the old cavalry fort/Indian trading post just across a corn field from us.
And I'll sleep in. At least until 6 a.m. I'm one exhausted momma.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Mishmashing
It was one of those hectic, but fabulous weekends. Unruly managed to get a "green light" Friday so, as promised, we headed to the zoo Saturday morning. With temperatures hovering in the upper 70s and the sky nearly cloud-free, it was a perfect day to spend wandering around the zoo. We could have stayed home and sat on the deck to watch the bi-plane aerialists practice their air stunt act, but we didn't. That was only exciting for about half an hour. I mean, you can only watch barrel rolls and nosedives for so long before it's just not exciting any more.
At the zoo, all the animals were out enjoying the weather. And so, it seems, was the entire population of St. Louis.
Every. last. person. was at the zoo Saturday. I now remember why I prefer the zoo on chilly days. Fewer irritating, rude people. What is it with people thinking it's okay to harass animals to try to make them move or "do something?" Unruly and I were watching the chimps in their wonderful new exhibit when these three kids came up and started yelling and beating on the glass. Moms just stood there and completely ignored their brats. Of course, Unruly decided that if those kids could yell and bang, she could yell and bang at those poor chimps. Uh uh. Not my kid! I said, rather loudly while pulling her from the glass, "No! YOU are NOT going to bang on the glass! How would you like someone to bang on the window in YOUR room? It's rude and mean." Suddenly, the other mothers became aware of their children's bad, bad behavior and admonished their brats to stop.
We had a good day. Unruly got to talk at length with a zookeeper hanging out near the new cheetah cubs. Have I ever mentioned she wants to be a zookeeper/zoo vet? She does, and boy! was she EVER enthralled by this young zookeeper who was so kind to engage her in conversation and answer ALL of her questions. The zookeeper said the zoo has a Zookeeper-for-a-Day program for kids. I checked into it. Awesome program! So awesome that every single program until fall is BOOKED FULL! Grrr....
Got more chickens Saturday afternoon. Yeah. What is SO freakin' addicting about those fowl? Cute. Fascinating. Each has a very distinct personality. And, they eat bugs. Lots of bugs. Which is good when you live in the country. So we now have, ummm...four ducks and 12 chickens, including the grumpy old hen Fuzzy Face. She sure is a grump and she doesn't put up with the chicks' crap at all. She cackles and clucks and screams at them...very, very cranky, that old hen! But, she lays green eggs, so it's all good.
I saw a turkey, a big ole Tom turkey, walking down the side of the highway during rush hour. A major highway. Very odd. He didn't seem bothered one iota.
Sunday morning around 5 a.m. the dogs started going nuts. Barking, growling, whining. Of course I think it's a serial ax murderer standing outside waiting to chop us up into little bitty pieces. But really, when I got up to look, (Hubby doesn't get up. He'd rather die in his sleep, I think. The wimp!) I saw a doe standing in our yard grazing. The sun was barely coming up and it was hazy, so the scene was very serene and Bambi-esque. I've heard them in the woods, seen them in the pastures and spotted their foot prints in the creek and in the driveway, but never seen them so close to the house. I like them, but I guess this means I'll be planting no tulips, peonies or begonies. They are like candy to deer.
Most of Sunday was spent mowing, weeding, talking and chillin'.
Wild was gone all weekend. Oddly, the weekend was relaxing, uneventful and quite enjoyable.
I will be ordering my new John Deere lawn tractor tomorrow. Online. How funny is that? I've ordered small things online, but it strikes me as highly amusing to order a lawn tractor online! Ha! I'm easily amused, I suppose.
At the zoo, all the animals were out enjoying the weather. And so, it seems, was the entire population of St. Louis.
Every. last. person. was at the zoo Saturday. I now remember why I prefer the zoo on chilly days. Fewer irritating, rude people. What is it with people thinking it's okay to harass animals to try to make them move or "do something?" Unruly and I were watching the chimps in their wonderful new exhibit when these three kids came up and started yelling and beating on the glass. Moms just stood there and completely ignored their brats. Of course, Unruly decided that if those kids could yell and bang, she could yell and bang at those poor chimps. Uh uh. Not my kid! I said, rather loudly while pulling her from the glass, "No! YOU are NOT going to bang on the glass! How would you like someone to bang on the window in YOUR room? It's rude and mean." Suddenly, the other mothers became aware of their children's bad, bad behavior and admonished their brats to stop.
We had a good day. Unruly got to talk at length with a zookeeper hanging out near the new cheetah cubs. Have I ever mentioned she wants to be a zookeeper/zoo vet? She does, and boy! was she EVER enthralled by this young zookeeper who was so kind to engage her in conversation and answer ALL of her questions. The zookeeper said the zoo has a Zookeeper-for-a-Day program for kids. I checked into it. Awesome program! So awesome that every single program until fall is BOOKED FULL! Grrr....
Got more chickens Saturday afternoon. Yeah. What is SO freakin' addicting about those fowl? Cute. Fascinating. Each has a very distinct personality. And, they eat bugs. Lots of bugs. Which is good when you live in the country. So we now have, ummm...four ducks and 12 chickens, including the grumpy old hen Fuzzy Face. She sure is a grump and she doesn't put up with the chicks' crap at all. She cackles and clucks and screams at them...very, very cranky, that old hen! But, she lays green eggs, so it's all good.
I saw a turkey, a big ole Tom turkey, walking down the side of the highway during rush hour. A major highway. Very odd. He didn't seem bothered one iota.
Sunday morning around 5 a.m. the dogs started going nuts. Barking, growling, whining. Of course I think it's a serial ax murderer standing outside waiting to chop us up into little bitty pieces. But really, when I got up to look, (Hubby doesn't get up. He'd rather die in his sleep, I think. The wimp!) I saw a doe standing in our yard grazing. The sun was barely coming up and it was hazy, so the scene was very serene and Bambi-esque. I've heard them in the woods, seen them in the pastures and spotted their foot prints in the creek and in the driveway, but never seen them so close to the house. I like them, but I guess this means I'll be planting no tulips, peonies or begonies. They are like candy to deer.
Most of Sunday was spent mowing, weeding, talking and chillin'.
Wild was gone all weekend. Oddly, the weekend was relaxing, uneventful and quite enjoyable.
I will be ordering my new John Deere lawn tractor tomorrow. Online. How funny is that? I've ordered small things online, but it strikes me as highly amusing to order a lawn tractor online! Ha! I'm easily amused, I suppose.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Dental Hygiene
Shopping with the kids is always an adventure. Sometimes its a good adventure, sometimes its more like trying to crawl out of a quicksand pit while someone is standing on my head. Recently I took Unruly to Wal-Mart to pick up a few things. She's always making observations about things and people, commenting on them constantly. Ever notice how children have no filter between brain and mouth? What they think is what they say, political correctness be damned. Embarrassment generally follows us from the moment we walk in the door to the moment we load back into the car.
On this latest shopping adventure Unruly spent the trip sitting in the cart. She was in one of her run-around-like-a-maniac phases and I wasn't in the mood to deal with it calmly, so, up into the cart and on with the belt to snug her in. I wonder how long I'm going to be able to do that? I don't think she's going to fit in there for much longer.
The last stop of this particular shopping trip ended in the feminine hygiene aisle, cause, you know, it was getting close to that time of month and I didn't want to get caught unprepared. What a wall of products! Shelf after shelf of colorful packaging and drawings portraying what lie within the packaging. Drawings of pads and pretty flowers, cartoonish women on a box of sports Tampax, likenessess of tampons on the front of the box, their handy dandy little strings neatly coiled near the bright white cotton stopper. Unruly gazes at the wall of boxes and bags, I'm sure devouring every last bit of information her little mind can suck up as I search for my preferred brand.
I catch her looking at a box of Tampax, the box with the detailed picture of a tampon freed from its little inserter thingie, bared for the world to see. Her eyes focus on that tampon and its long string and she leans forward to get a better look.
A wave of comprehension flashes across her innocent, cherubic countenance.
"Mom! Mom! I need some FLOSS!" No, she never uses her inside voice, not when she wants to be heard NOW.
Cheeks redden as I look around quickly, hoping no one heard her and made the connection.
"Why do you think you need some floss?" I inquire, trying to keep from laughing. My insides are starting to hurt.
"Well, because I don't have any floss. And there's a box of floss RIGHT THERE!" Louder this time, with fingers desperately in need of a manicure reaching toward the box of tampons. The one with the long, long white string emblazoned on the front.
I turn the cart around as quickly as I can, lowering my eyes to avoid contact with anyone who may have heard as I grab the nearest box of product, toss it into the cart and hightail it towards a safer section. Of course I manage to ram the edge of my cart into a little old gray-haired lady checking out the Depends.
"Oh. That's not floss honey," I said, heading towards the cat food section. Something far safer and less embarassing.
"Looks like floss to me. What is it?"
"Ummm...grown up lady stuff. Not floss."
"Oh. Can I have it any way?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because."
On this latest shopping adventure Unruly spent the trip sitting in the cart. She was in one of her run-around-like-a-maniac phases and I wasn't in the mood to deal with it calmly, so, up into the cart and on with the belt to snug her in. I wonder how long I'm going to be able to do that? I don't think she's going to fit in there for much longer.
The last stop of this particular shopping trip ended in the feminine hygiene aisle, cause, you know, it was getting close to that time of month and I didn't want to get caught unprepared. What a wall of products! Shelf after shelf of colorful packaging and drawings portraying what lie within the packaging. Drawings of pads and pretty flowers, cartoonish women on a box of sports Tampax, likenessess of tampons on the front of the box, their handy dandy little strings neatly coiled near the bright white cotton stopper. Unruly gazes at the wall of boxes and bags, I'm sure devouring every last bit of information her little mind can suck up as I search for my preferred brand.
I catch her looking at a box of Tampax, the box with the detailed picture of a tampon freed from its little inserter thingie, bared for the world to see. Her eyes focus on that tampon and its long string and she leans forward to get a better look.
A wave of comprehension flashes across her innocent, cherubic countenance.
"Mom! Mom! I need some FLOSS!" No, she never uses her inside voice, not when she wants to be heard NOW.
Cheeks redden as I look around quickly, hoping no one heard her and made the connection.
"Why do you think you need some floss?" I inquire, trying to keep from laughing. My insides are starting to hurt.
"Well, because I don't have any floss. And there's a box of floss RIGHT THERE!" Louder this time, with fingers desperately in need of a manicure reaching toward the box of tampons. The one with the long, long white string emblazoned on the front.
I turn the cart around as quickly as I can, lowering my eyes to avoid contact with anyone who may have heard as I grab the nearest box of product, toss it into the cart and hightail it towards a safer section. Of course I manage to ram the edge of my cart into a little old gray-haired lady checking out the Depends.
"Oh. That's not floss honey," I said, heading towards the cat food section. Something far safer and less embarassing.
"Looks like floss to me. What is it?"
"Ummm...grown up lady stuff. Not floss."
"Oh. Can I have it any way?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because."
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Trees coming out of my ears
They have begun arriving and as they arrive I panic because it's raining and muddy outside and I have to get the poor little things in the ground before the wither up and die.
I'm talking about my trees. Ten arrived on Thursday and managed to get most of them planted before noon. I had to go to the post office this morning and pick up the last eight of them but can not figure out how the hell I'm going to get them planted. It's dark by the time I get home and the ground is resembling soup more than dirt at this point. It just needs to stop raining and the sun needs to stay out just an hour longer. That's all I'm asking for. Is that too much?
Oh, and I need to get my wildflower meadow planted, too. But again, the mud, it complicates things. Damn mud.
Hubby and I went to see Monty Python's Spamalot musical Saturday afternoon with another couple. It was fantastic! It was the first musical he has seen, ever, in his whole life, and the first time he's ever been to the Fox Theatre, which is, in itself, a sight to awe even the most traveled theatre fan. I think I have him hooked on musicals. Bwahahaha! My evil plan to inject a little civility and culture into his Southern-raised self is working.
Next weekend it's off to see the stupid elephants and freak show clowns with the kiddos at the circus. Elephants stink, but I'll tolerant the reek for the trapeze artists and trained horses. It all balances out somehow.
I'm talking about my trees. Ten arrived on Thursday and managed to get most of them planted before noon. I had to go to the post office this morning and pick up the last eight of them but can not figure out how the hell I'm going to get them planted. It's dark by the time I get home and the ground is resembling soup more than dirt at this point. It just needs to stop raining and the sun needs to stay out just an hour longer. That's all I'm asking for. Is that too much?
Oh, and I need to get my wildflower meadow planted, too. But again, the mud, it complicates things. Damn mud.
Hubby and I went to see Monty Python's Spamalot musical Saturday afternoon with another couple. It was fantastic! It was the first musical he has seen, ever, in his whole life, and the first time he's ever been to the Fox Theatre, which is, in itself, a sight to awe even the most traveled theatre fan. I think I have him hooked on musicals. Bwahahaha! My evil plan to inject a little civility and culture into his Southern-raised self is working.
Next weekend it's off to see the stupid elephants and freak show clowns with the kiddos at the circus. Elephants stink, but I'll tolerant the reek for the trapeze artists and trained horses. It all balances out somehow.
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