Mornings

I'm not a morning person. I never have been. I mean, it takes something pretty special or important to drag me out of bed before 9...like work...like catching an airplane...like uncontrollable nausea. You get the idea.

From the time I was one to the time I was four, my mom was a single mom. She'd get up at the crack of dawn (or maybe before) to do her makeup and hair and all the things mommies do before they have to deal with waking children. I don't remember how often I did, but I remember waking up a lot of mornings and wandering out to the kitchen where she'd sit at the table with her mirror propped up on a towel, all her makeup and hair gel and combs and EVERYTHING laying on the table and she'd meticulously get ready for the day. I would be groggy and I'd stand beside her chair with my head in her lap, close my eyes, and listen to the radio playing songs like, "I'm On Top of the World Looking Down on Creation" and "I Never Promised You a Rose Garden." Sometimes I'd stand up and watch her working on her makeup and hair. Let me tell you, my mom can back-comb hair like a whiz! It was fascinating. I wanted that time with my mom enough that I would wake up without any external prompts and make my way to her, just to stand and lean into her lap while my siblings slept on. That was something special enough to get me up early.

Another thing (and the thought that prompted this blog) was Saturday morning cartoons. The three of us kids would wake up early on Saturdays and head to the living room to watch cartoons. Mom would sleep in (at least a bit) and we'd keep the tv low and enjoy all the good old cartoons like "Roadrunner" and "Bugs Bunny" and "Mr. Magoo."

Now my kids' childhoods are different than mine in a lot of ways. Our world is so much different. But Saturday mornings are very similar. They are finally old enough that they can get up and watch cartoons and I can sleep in a bit. Because of what I often find when I wander out to the living room now, I wonder what my mom used to find when she got up. Maybe my kids are just more active than we were as kids, but as they watch tv they keep their hands busy with other things a lot of the time, too.

A lot of times, it's nothing too earth-shaking. A whole mess of Pollies. (Emphasis on the word "mess.") Littlest Pet Shop. A collection of dolls. Drawings. Computer games.

But THIS Saturday was different. As I dozed off and on a little while, I remember hearing Megan say something to Alli about "trying to get a tan." No alarms went off over this. I mean, the kid has a good imagination and when they get to playing together they pretend a lot of things. I knew they wouldn't go outside, so no worries at all.

When I walked down the hall and into the kitchen, Megan spotted me and rushed into the kitchen to show off something she was quite proud of. She had taken a sheet of cardboard and wrapped it in aluminum foil. She told me she did it to get a tan. I told her it wouldn't work if she wasn't in the sun and she informed me that she was using a light. So apparently while I avoided "morning," my daughter sat with the living room light bouncing off her aluminum foil, attempting a tan.

Got to looooooooooooooove the way they think.

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again!

Hello folks. Sorry I've been away. We'll chalk up the absense to the circus I call life...and my brain needing some rest.

I got on here last night, wanting to blog, but had not a single thought in my head worth posting. I woke up this morning, wanting to blog, but again couldn't think of anything blog-worthy. Later in the afternoon, I contemplated it again...no dice. Then I pulled up an email that had some things that my good buddy, Kristen, suggested I blog about. They were good topics...and will make their way here one day before long, but I wasn't quite in the jovial mood that they require. And if I'm going to write about them, I've got to do them justice. They've got to be as insane as the experiences themselves were, or what's the point in sharing?!

But FINALLY, just a bit ago, a thought came (and I owe it to Kristen...even though she didn't suggest it for blog...it's still her fault). So fasten your belts, the train's leaving the station....

Those of you who've read my first blog entries and many of you who just know me...you KNOW how crazy I am about the movie "Mamma Mia!" I love that it's making it big in the movies, but people!! STOP going to see it so it can come out on video, doggone it!! Every time I have some alone time, I'm SORELY tempted to go and see it again. I'm...addicted almost. Ok, completely. The soundtrack cd just isn't enough.

I have gone several weeks now without caving in and going to see it again, but the temptation still rears its ugly (yet delightfully melodic) head.

What does it have to do with Kristen? Why do I get to blame her? I'm so glad you asked. Last night she and I were talking on the phone and what does she do? She informs me that they've now released "Mamma Mia! The Sing Along" in select theaters. And as I googled to see when it was released and looked to see if a "select theater" was near me, I found that it wasn't at my usual theater. What does she do? She suggests a website to further my quest. I go to fandango-dot-com and voila! I found it!! It's in my city!!

So the tempation continues. And NOW I have a fantastic reason to see the movie again. I mean, after all, I've NEVER been to an adult sing-along movie in a theater before...or anywhere else for that matter. So now I just HAVE to go. I need to belt out, "YOU CAN DANCE**! YOU CAN JIVE!" and "YES I'VE BEEN BROKEN HEARTED; BLUE SINCE THE DAY WE PARTED! MAMMA MIA!!" with other people who are just as crazy as I am. How could I pass up an opportunity like that? It will be like......a cultural experience. It will be like being IN a musical all my own!! SHOOT! I can even pretend to be the star, lol!

Come on, folks....you know you want to, too. Give in to the temptation and attend the sing-along. It'll be fun!

**Notice I did not say "*I* can dance." There's really really good reason for that. But we'll save that for another day.

Too Much Information

Kids talk. I know. I spend a looooooooong time with 16 kindergarteners every day.

And the things they say!

For example, the other day we were drawing self portraits and when I did my example, I drew lovely red lips. What did one boy say? "Ewwwwwwwwww, that is disGUSting!"

Or they'll talk about preschool and what they liked to play with "back in the day." What? Are you my grandma reincarnated??

I wish I could remember more of their choice morsels (and perhaps I'll start throwing in the really funny ones as footnotes to my daily blog...as they come up.)

But one day just last week, a child spoke...and if their parents knew what she'd said they'd be ... well ... embarrassed, at best. We were reading "Dr. Suess's ABCs" and I read them the "U" page which makes reference to an umbrella and underwear.

Did you catch that red flag? I said "underwear."

Well, "underwear" always gets the giggles in Kindergarten. There are few things in life more funny to a kindergartener than an adult saying the word "underwear" out loud. So, we read about "Uncle Ub's underwear" and they all dissolved into laughter, and "Mr. 'DisGUSting'" piped up with, "Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, that's disGUSTing." (yes again...although I'm hoping it's a different rank for underwear than for my red lips.) So I calmly said, "It's not disgusting; EVERYBODY wears them." And what does Little Miss Cutie say through her giggles? "Not my dad!"

You might be comforted that a couple moments later, she clarified that he didn't wear boxers. Still something I didn't need to know.

YOU BIG DUMMY

I can't resist. This is the funniest commercial to me. The funniest I've seen in a really really long time. This "Phelps Phan" in the commercial (which you can view in my side bar)...this "Phan" is a kindred spirit. She's my kinda gal. She's...well...she's me.

Ok, I'm not a Phelps fan, but it's been rumored that I'm a bit of a zealous fan for some other guy. What was his name? What was his name??? (Scroll down through my blog and I THINK you might figure it out.)

I just can't resist this commercial. I watch it, amused at the crazy girl...both the one in the background who's so excited in her "fanship" (if that's a word...or if it's not.) And amused at just the way the narrating girl talks. (Yes I know they're the same person, but how on earth else do I differentiate??)

So I'm watching...I'm amused...giggle, giggle. And then the big orange AT&T screen comes on and the announcer (who's really trying to ruin some good entertainment, in my humble opinion, lol) starts talking. As he finally winds down you hear crazy girl yell, "YOU BIG DUMMY!" And that is precisely where I lose it.

I love it. LOoooooooooooooooooooooooove it! lol

P.S. - Forgive me Kristen for not mentioning sooner that Kristen tipped me off about this commercial...and developing my habit now for saying, "YOU BIG DUMMY!"

Don't Be Jealous!

Let's hear it for interest-bearing checking accounts! WHOOO!!

This month's dividend: $0.01

Wherever shall I spend it? Heavens! What am I thinking? Money like that was meant to be SAVED! I mean, shoot! If I keep this up, 90,000 months from now I'll have saved enough to pay a month's rent!

You think I'm kidding, don't you?

And to think I was worried about not getting my yearly raise. So silly.

I KNOW it's here! AAUUGGHH!

Ever lose something? Even something that might not matter too much? When I do (and it's more often than I'd like to admit), it drives me crazy!

Tonight it wasn't me. It was Meg. She had a math worksheet and she'd had it out on the table, calling her uncle, grandma, and aunts to ask a question so she could fill out a graph to represent her data.

We interrupted the project to eat dinner. After dinner was over, Meg went back to her work and got ahold of one of her aunts to get more info. But she couldn't find the paper. And so the search began.

We searched EVERYWHERE, Meg and I. Alli knew we were searching but didn't really join in. She was enjoying the fruit of her labor. Translation: she got her homework done in time to cozy down with a video. But Meg and I searched. Meg, surprisingly, was not too upset about the missing paper. I wasn't upset, but I'd JUST seen it. I KNEW it was here. So I searched.

I looked under beds, in the refrigerator, the freezer, in cabinets, under furniture, in closets, in pockets (in case it got folded), in folders, through backpacks, in the garage, through garbage, in the bathrooms...I mean E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E.

Finally there wasn't much to do but resign to the fact that it was lost. So Meg headed in to do her reading. But I couldn't let go. I kept thinking (and saying,) "I KNOW it's here!" So I continued searching...through everything I'd already searched, and it was then that Alli came through the kitchen. Assuming the answer would be "no," I asked Al, "You didn't pick her paper up, did you?"

She whirled around with the HUGEST smile on her face and said, "NOW I REMEMBER! I hid it from Megan!!" At first I thought she was being sarcastic and was about to say, "Ha ha, very funny," when she whirled and headed for her room. Then I knew she was serious.

She had taken it and hidden it from Meg to see how worked up she'd get...and then despite our crazy hunting for it...she didn't remember until I flat out asked her if she'd taken it.

Oy! And they wonder why I'm crazy.

The Wall O'Greg

Those who know me really well know that I have quite the collection of photos I've collected of Greg Page...some of them from times I've met him and had photos taken with him...some from newspapers, etc. Zillions of them are on disks (multiple backups, of course, lol), but I have a good number of them framed and hanging on a wall in my room. I reserve the living room, hallway, and dining room, to put all kinds of photos of our family and my girls...and bring a few of them into my room, too, but I always reserve a wall in there for "The Wall O'Greg" (as my good friend, "Squooshy" named it, lol.)

Well "The Wall" is usually the first "decorative touch" I make when I move into a new abode. But this year I had several reasons (I won't bother with going into) that kept me from bothering to do anything in my own room. Truth be told, I was slow to put any decorations up anywhere, but EXTRA slow in my own room.

Anyway, yesterday I attacked my room, and MAN does it look attacked...and not in a good way. Except for "The Wall." I put it up yesterday. I've still got about ten more framed photos I need to add to it, but I think I'll group them in another corner of my room...or a different wall.
ANYWAY, I decided that SINCE I forgot to participate in the Friday Foto Finish Fiesta (I forget what order those words go in, lol), that I would share a photo today instead. And that photo is going to be my "Wall O'Greg."

And just for the record...that wall is RED...not purple...not maroon. It's red...not orange...red. Ok, MAYBE cranberry. But it was SUPPOSED to be RED.

And for those who also know the tales...that "centerpiece" holds the notorious "water bottles"...and that would be the "bowling ball" from Greg's Aussie tour.

I Need Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

I need Chitty Chitty Bang Bang...the car, NOT the movie. Let's be practical, people.

Tropical Storm Fay passed us without too big a fuss this past Tuesday. However she must have "outer bands" that are INCREDIBLE. Today's the first day we've had real sunshine since then and even our sunny sky is dropping buckets of water intermittently. I swear when I looked out the window this morning the rain was coming down in the closest thing I've seen to an actual sheet of water. It was incredible. Fortunately it didn't last long, but I'm sure it will swirl back around to drench us again...if this week's weather is any indicator.

So I NEED Chitty Chitty Bang Bang...that feul-burning oracle...that fantasmagorical machine. I at LEAST need to borrow its floaties. Yesterday I put in a looooong day at school. (Actually Thursday and Friday both were 12-hour days for me...Monday and Wednesday I limited to about 9.) So I stayed at school yesterday until slightly past 7:30 (which means it was actually MORE than 12 hours...boo hoo, poor me, lol.)

Our playground and soccer fields have been underwater this week ever since Fay passed through. And at 5:15ish yesterday afternoon a lady at our school came and said that I might want to move my car if I planned on staying much longer because the water was rising. I thanked her and she left my room. Not 30-seconds later she poked her head back in my door and said that she'd wait at the door to let me back in (the school was locked) if I wanted to go do that and that my car was already parked in water. (Now that changed things a bit, lol.)

So I went to the door and looked and sure enough, I was parked in water. So I took off my shoes and rolled up my pants and headed for the car. By the time I got to the door of my car the water was around 4 inches above my ankles. Yikes. Felt a little uneasy wading through that. Oddly enough I was afraid of electrocution. (Don't try to make it make sense....I just worried about a down power line or something.)

But I moved my car further from the "lake" and up closer to the school...in the "parent pick-up" circle drive out front. Then I went back in and continued my work.

At 7:35 my friend Ginny looked in my door as she was leaving. (I was packing to go, too.) She told me I had to come see something. I went to the hall and looked out the doors (from my room which is the third from the front of the building.) I could see water filling the yard that is inside the circle drive I parked in. So I'm thinking it's getting higher, I'd better get out and go home.

Back into the class, gather all the boxes of things I need to do for the weekend, and carry them out (yes, feeling like a pack mule). Ginny drives a mini-SUV thingie so it sits higher than my little Corolla. She was waiting to make sure I got out...and then I saw WHY. It wasn't just the yard that was full, both the exits to the drive were under water as was the whole parking lot!

I made it out, but if I'd been there any longer, I'm thinking my little car would not have done the job. So please...Chitty...if you're out there...could you please come and be my car for a while?

I'll even sing all your favorite songs. (Plus some Greg Page favorites.......and Row Row Row Your Boat.)

Night-night-I-love-you-bye-bye

My girls spend every other weekend at their dad's house and have done this for about 6 years now. Every night that they are at my house, he calls to talk to them. Every night they're at his house, I call to talk to them. And for several years, every phone call I had with my eldest ended not just with "bye bye," but with "Night-night-I-love-you-bye-bye!" She would rattle it off as if it were one huge word sometimes.

Well a little less than a year into this schedule of the girls spending weekends at their dad's, I happened to take a trip. The girls were spending the couple days I was gone with some close friends. It was a treat for them, while I was getting to have a fun weekend myself. Nothing like a sleepover with your bestest friends.

Anyway, I had gone to Las Vegas (no, not into gambling) to see Greg Page in concert. (Not familiar with him? Check out the linkie on the side.) He was the original Yellow Wiggle, but was doing some solo singing with the TCB Band for two nights in Vegas. I went out to see the shows and for the chance to meet him. If you've read much of my blog you've already gotten some glimpses of that weekend, and doubtless more will come at one time or another.

Anyway, one morning...the morning of the evening of his first show (sorry, I can't word that any simpler!)...my friends and I saw him. Ok, yes we were trying to see him, but that's beside the point, ha ha.

I asked him if he'd mind saying hello to my oldest who was then only four and a BIG Wiggles fan. And he was her favorite...wearing her favorite color and...well...he rocks. Anyway, he was very gracious and said he would. So I called her up and got her on the phone and Greg took the phone and had a little conversation.

Now understand, Megan was a great conversationalist from the time she was tiny, but like many children she was VERY difficult to understand on the phone...especially with someone who is unfamiliar with her. But he hung in there and did his best to understand and talk to her for a few minutes.

Finally after he said goodbye to her and hung up the phone, he started laughing as he handed the phone back to me. He hadn't been able to understand much of what she said, but her "closing" was quite clear. He laughed and said, "She said, 'night-night-I-love-you-bye-bye!'"...which was funny at 9 in the morning.

Frogs Freak Me Out!

Ok, so we weathered the tropical storm the night before last. Apparently a small critter took refuge in our garage...and who can blame him? That's a lot of rain...even if you ARE an amphibian.
This photo was taken out in the garage. The clothes you see at the sides of the photo are on the rack where I hang my laundry when I pull it out of the dryer. In the background you see the drawers of my dresser stacked (I'm storing it in the garage until I can sell it...I think). But look at that nasty creature perched on the drawer's edge!

I couldn't live with the thought of it touching me...or worse yet, hiding out in my garage for a sneak attack. So I went to the kitchen and got a grocery bag...plastic. My girls were asleep and I didn't want them to wake up to my screams, so I was trying to remain calm.

Not easy.

I walked out to the garage with the bag puffed open, opening down and I slowly lowered it somewhat over the frog. As I predicted the frog hopped into the bag...at which point I DROPPED the bag.

Try not to focus on the fact that I dropped the bag, but focus on my success at NOT screaming!

The frog was still inside the bag so I reached down, scared silly, and closed the bag and lifted it. So far, so good. (And I'm being generous with the term "good" here.) I carried it into the house, across the living room to the front door, opened the door, (all the while the frog is jumping every which way inside the bag...guess it was freaked, too)... and I managed to get the bag opened AWAY FROM ME and after a bit of shaking (the bag, NOT me, lol)...I got the frog out.

I am SO glad I saw the frog before it jumped on me. The screams would have been heard round the world.

Tropical Storms, Mornings, and Kindergarteners

Tropical Storm Fay amounted to little more than a day off school and a thorough watering of every lawn in Florida. I'm glad; don't get me wrong. I don't enjoy hurricanes. NO ONE wants to watch the weather report THAT many times. Sheesh. I hadn't watched the weather in a few years and last night I watched it so many times I lost count.

And did I mention the interruption to my sleep? Ask my children if I like to be woke up before it's officially morning. Ask my mom and siblings if I've EVER liked to be woke up before it's officially morning.

Nevermind. Don't ask them. I'll just tell you. I do NOT like to be woke up before it's officially morning. Which, contrary to popular opinion is not before 9:30...and I'm being generous. 10:00 or 11:00 is even better.

But for the sake of safety I kept setting my alarm, sleeping, hearing the alarm and thinking "It CAN'T be morning...oh wait, it's the storm...go check the news." Then back to bed and ... lather, rinse, repeat as necessary.

In the end, for us, it amounted to lots and lots of rain but little wind. Trees kept their limbs and everything. And I'm glad for that...and the straight 5 hours I got between 5:30am and 10:30am. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...finally. :)

So thank you, Fay, for not gathering your strength and your speed and wiping us out. We're all very thankful.

More appropriately, thank you, God, for watching over us and sparing us the destruction that nature far too often visits upon people all over this world.

*I don't mean to make light. So for those of you who may read this and have gone through serious hurricane damage, please...don't be offended. I know it can be very serious. I weathered Hurricane Charlie in a bathtub under a mattress a few years ago and quite fortunately my condo was untouched. Many people lost their homes...or at minimum their roofs, and I don't take that lightly at all.

And now, I'm off to seek some sleep. Tomorrow will be the second first day of kindergarten this year. The first one was really exhausting. I'm thinking the second first one will not be much more merciful. On the lighter side of that, I DID hear one of my new students talking about "back in the day" in reference to her preschool class, lol. It's gonna be a good one!

Hurricane anyone?

Tonight I'll keep it short and sweet. Well, short anyway.

We have the glorious Tropical-Storm-Wanna-Be-A-Hurricane Fay heading our way tonight...somewhere around 2am. My girls are spending the night at their dad's because he lives further inland.

I survived the first day of kindergarten this morning and it's the best "first day" I've had in years. I'm encouraged that maybe I can actually handle it this year. YAY! My last few years, for anyone who hasn't heard, have been ... what's the word?.....CHALLENGING. Yes that's it, they were challenging.

This year already feels different. I'm encouraged.

And that's all for this evening from Hurricane Alley.....

Well, what would YOU have done?

About four and a half years ago, I took a little trip to Chicago. And boy was it an adventure! Of course it was...because I was with Kristen again. Somehow she and I don't have "normal" trips. They're always adventures with the oddest things happening and we always laugh ourselves silly. And this was no different.

I'll save some of our mischief for another day because there are photos to find before I share it. Some of you will remember it, but for some it will be new so I'll tell the tale another day.

But for today I want to focus on the whole reason I was in Chicago. Kristen's 3rd of 4 daughters was being baptised in this big Catholic church there. Now I'm not Catholic and other than a wedding or two haven't been to a Catholic church so it was a new experience for me. The baptism was on a Sunday afternoon when there was no one in the church except for a few groups of people there for their babies' baptisms.

I basically knew no one but Kristen and her hubby before going that weekend, though I'd met a few of the others that morning. Our group waited and eventually they called for Kristen's daughter's baptism and the group went forward to stand up for the baptism. I wasn't an "official" member of the party so I was standing on the fringe. So when the baby began crying, Kristen finally gave the signal for me to go grab a bottle for her. So I quietly headed back to the rows where the diaper bag and all our coats, etc., were sitting. It was several rows over.

A couple things to note here. The church was huge. The floors were hard wood (except maybe up the aisles??) And the place was more or less empty of people. All that set us up for some LOVELY acoustics. Translation: You'd better be quiet or EVERYONE will hear and there will be a TREMENDOUS echo.

So I quietly head toward the diaper bag and the coveted baby bottle. I make it over most inconspicuously. But then as I went to pick up the bottle, I'm not sure what happened but it fell with a LOUD *THUMP*. Now,what would YOU have done? Hmmm...? I suppose most normal folk would have thrown an apologetic look toward the folks over at the baptism (because, after all, they're ALL looking at you with the racket you just caused.)

But what did I do? I'll tell you what I did: I HIT THE DECK! I didn't want everyone to see me. lol I was too embarrassed. Of course, then I had the predicament of deciding what to do now that I was down on the floor. Do I just...stand up? Didn't sound too smart. Of course, dropping to the floor wasn't a stroke of genius. Do I look for an exit? That wouldn't do much good. After all, Kristen is waiting for the bottle with a very unhappy baby. So I did the only thing I could do. I stayed low and snuck to the back of the church until I thought everyone would have returned their attention to the priest and I QUIETLY stood up and quickly made my way back to the group, delivering the bottle.

Of course, everyone in our group KNEW it had been me...as I could tell by the smiles of some who saw me returning up the aisle. But apparently I'd kept the priest guessing. Later, Kristen told me that when they all heard the loud *THUMP*, they all turned to look, and seeing nothing, the priest said something like, "Guess we've got a ghost today." hee hee hee...errrr, I mean, "BOO."

Funny little kid comment...

Today the girls each chose an item we found at a jewelry clearance sale. Alli chose a set of bangles and Meg chose a pair of clip-on earrings.

We left the store and were all riding along quietly, a lull in conversation, when suddenly Megan exclaimed, "FIRST of all, these things hurt like the DICKENS!" Just...out of the blue. ROFL! It was SO funny. (You might have had to have been there, but I laughed like a hyena.)

I love that girl. She cracks me up!

Friday Foto Finish Fiesta

Gotta join in on the Friday Foto Finish Fiesta. And my submission this week is (OBVIOUSLY) the photo to the left. It is about four-and-a-half years ago. Meg was in Kindergarten and she's starting 5th grade this Monday. Unbelievable. And that would make Alli about three.

I've always loved this picture and had never stopped to think of why. When I chose it this evening, I thought about it...and I guess one reason would be that it's just that it looks so cute to see two tiny sisters just ... ya know...hangin' out...havin' a yogurt drink...chillin' in their ultra-cool helmets. It's like their in their own little world. And another reason is just because they're mine. :D

Me? A Weakling???

I've always been the featherweight of the group...ANY group. As a kid I'd get the comments like "A stiff wind would blow you away." As a teen, a guy in youth group would joke that I was so thin I could hide behind a telephone pole...or a blade of grass (except my hair...which was always BIG...FREAKY BIG.) And along with being thin was the assumption that I was a weakling. OK, THAT'S pretty much true, too.

Or is it?

This past July, the girls and I spent two weeks in Montana with my brother who is pastor of a Nazarene church there. My brother is 16 months older than me, and he and I were close growing up...like best friends. We played together as kids and had a lot of fun. Mind you, him being a boy and all, the stuff we played was always boy-friendly. He never condescended to playing Barbies. No, he drug me outside to play baseball, to jump out of the hayloft, to go gloppin' (a game where we'd wear oversized galoshes and step in deep gooey mud, then try to get the loose galoshes out without falling into the mud, and listening to that big "sssssssssssloooooooooooooooP!" sound they'd make as they were pulled free), to hunt for arrowheads (and we found a BUNCH!), to go wading in the creek, to racing our goats (lol). You name it, we did it (except for Barbies, of course)...(no offense to Barbie dot com.)

Anyway....what was I saying?

Oh yes, my brother and I always played boy-type games. One of my less favorites was wrestling. Only he would stay on his knees and I got to get on my feet...to try to even the playing field. Translation: to help me last more than five seconds without getting pinned.

Well, we're older now...especially him. :D But apparently I'm the only one who grew up. While we were there this summer, on our LAST night in Montana, we were at his house for just a very short while and he starts swinging at me, like he's trying to start a fight/wrestle/boxing...skirmish. He just started batting at me, trying to draw me into it. So I decide to go all ninja-queen (or was it karate?) on him and pretend I'm kicking him. I always did that...and he grabbed my ankle, so I jumped up on him. (Shoot, I'm not hopping around on one leg. I'm too dignified for that, lol.)

So he carries me a half dozen or so steps across the room to the junction of two walls (which are made of huge logs because he lives in a log cabin...and which feels like the scales on the back of a dinosaur when your brother smashes them into your back...even if he's fairly gentle about it, lol). With the growing pressure of the dinosaur scales in my back, I give up momentarily and let go of him...and he lets me down. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...no more dino-scales. Whew. He backs away and I walk toward him ... he takes another swing and the "fight" ensues. Still the ninja-queen I give another kick. Wuuuupaaaaw!

My brother doubles over grabbing his hand and rushing to the furthest corner of the room. We (his wife, our mom, his son, and I) all start throwing questions. "What's wrong?!" "Are you okay?" etc., all of which are greeted with "DON'T TALK TO ME!" and some steely glares from my brother.

Finally he gets over the angry-pain (though still in significant pain) and he chokes out, "You've hurt me worse than ANY grown man has ever hurt me." And he coined a new phrase "It hurts worse than a kick in the thumb." It was determined that his thumb was either dislocated or broken.

So of course, me being so compassionate and all, I felt overcome with guilt and cried great tears of remorse. Or not. Okay, the truth is that I laughed......a lot. I DID apologize, but I couldn't help but laugh.

And then I gloated. The next morning at his church I asked if he'd like to thumb wrestle.

He passed.

I'm thinking about offering some sort of body guard service. I figure I'll take 'em down by the thumbs.

And they thought I'd never be more than a weakling....

I showed THEM, Hmmmmmm?

Meet the Parents...

Oh help!

Tomorrow night is "Open House" at our school...which translates to "OH HELP!" I can talk in front of any number of children, but in front of a group of adults is an entirely different thing. I can do it; it's just that I don't necessarily ENJOY it. It would be different, I suppose if I had some humorous or inspirational speech to deliver, but no. I'm going to go over kindergarten procedures, standards, grades, etc. And THAT wouldn't be so bad...but...

It's like this. This classroom designed to accomodate a group of ohhhh...25 kids comfortably (yes you could pack more in)...is suddenly filled with more than a dozen kids...and their 1-2 parents (and sometimes a grandparent or two...or a translating neighbor.) And so we've got lots of people, some of them sitting in chairs designed for five year olds...the rest of them standing around...some of them talking while I'm trying to...people coming in late...and then, my favorite, THE BLANK STARE.

What does the blank stare mean? Are they taken aback at all that kindergarten entails and so they're just "soaking it in?" Are they hearing "blah blah blah blah?" Are they thinking "I could be home watching the Olympics!"? Are they wondering why on earth my shoes are THAT ugly? What does the blank stare mean?

Last week I spent one day in my classroom. The rest of the week we were asked to stay out so the custodians could get some stuff done. This week I've had half a day to work in there...and it was filled with stuff like collecting new textbooks, workbooks, etc. Busy busy busy, but my room doesn't show much improvement for it. In fact it's worse because now I have all those books to put away. TOMORROW the hammer hits the nail, though. The room turns into a child-friendly classroom and somehow I get my brain together to tell the parents "all they need to know."

I don't know what else to say. So.......... THE END. (That was smooth, wasn't it?)

What does YOUR painter wear?

My youngest daughter didn't start talking until she was three. Prior to that she could make the sound of nearly every animal I could think of (and knew the sound to teach her, lol.) but she wasn't much into human sounds, I guess. When she finally started talking at three, she took off like wildfire. She went through quite a while (as does any child learning to talk) where I, Mama, was about the only one who could figure out what she was saying.

However, there was one day that she was perfectly understood by ALL. And I will never forget it.

We lived in a condo at the time and the condo association had hired a painter to paint the exterior of all the buildings. One morning he was painting the portion of wall between our ground floor and the floor above us and was within 6 feet of our door. All you could see of the man from our doorway was his legs...and a bit of his khaki shorts...which blended in with his tan at first glance.

Well, we were headed out and the girls headed out the door just a few seconds before me. I had turned back to grab my purse and just as I stepped out the door, Alli calls out in perfectly clear speech (very loudly because she thinks I'm still inside), "MOM! THERE'S A MAN PAINTING YOUR HOUSE! HE'S NAKED!!"

The painter bent down to peer under the edge of the wall he was painting, grinned at me, and went right back to his work.

Think he heard her??

Putting Mom's mind at ease...

My girls are a bit crazy. I don't know where they get it. Seriously, I have no idea where they get it; I still have all my crazy.

Today was my first day back working at school and after I was done, I went to pick the girls up from their dad. On the way home, they were letting their crazy free-fly.

They were being silly but it doesn't take but a moment for sisters to switch from silly to clobbering each other. So when Alli suddenly said, "If you do that again, I'll REALLY _______..." (I have no idea what the threat was going to be because I interrupted her by laying down the law. "Girls! There will be NO VIOLENCE!" THIS was followed by great gales of hilarity (i.e.- a giggle fit.) and a statement by my seven-year-old.

"Don't worry; we've never killed anyone........................................and we never will."

Hmmmmm.... ::patting self on back:: You've trained them well, Mom. Not a killer in the bunch.

What a relief. I guess that means y'all are safe. Feel free to visit...you can sleep with both eyes shut.

One-Hour Photos Gone Wrong, Part 2

Showing the exquisite taste that makes her Sunshine, Sunshine has requested the photo(s) that were the object of the One-Hour expedition that went wrong. And I'm more than happy to oblige, of course.

I know it's hard to tell the difference but that really is me, NOT Johnny Cash. What can I say? I was feeling colorful.
I think this is the one I got autographed. It is framed and usually on my Wall O' Greg, but with painting my house, the Wall O' Greg is not up yet.
And in this one, I'm laughing my head off, because I said something stupid. Kristen told Greg to scrunch down so that she could get more of my dress in the shot. When he obliged, I said something like, "I feel so tall now!" He humored me with a chuckle and I laughed like a hyena. I'm sure it charmed all of Vegas. lol I MIGHT have been just a TEEEENY bit nervous.
Thank you, Sunshine, for giving me an excuse to share the photos. ::siiiigh:: Nothing like a stroll down memory lane.

"Kickin'" Awards and Barbie-Dot-Com

Somewhere within the past year, my oldest, Meg, was playing games at "Everything Girl dot com." This site links into Barbie, Polly, and all kinds of good "dot coms."

Meg had made her way into Barbie dot com and was trying to play a game. It required that she make up a user i.d. and a password. No problem, right? Well, she put in an i.d. and when it prompted her for a password she decided to use the name of our then newly acquired dog, Pooh. However, the "h" on "Pooh" had no meaning for Meg, as is the case with many letters in many words where Meg is concerned, so in her own definitive style, she left it off. She typed in "Poo." A very tame word...not worthy of soap-in-the-mouth or hot sauce either, right? WRONG. An error page popped up that said, "We don't use that word at Barbie dot com." I nearly fell on the floor laughing. I guess Barbie is calling us all to a higher standard. It has become one of my favorite phrases. "We don't say that at Barbie dot com." I use it on my friend Ginny all the time. (She reminds me we aren't AT Barbie dot com, so she doesn't care, but I still remind her.)

Having said that, I must tell you all that in this case, Barbie and I are on the same page. It's hard for me to even say the word b.... b.... butt. I taste soap every time I try.

So in light of that, I would like to now address the "Kickin'" Awards my title is referring to.

My dear friend, Sunshine, has conferred upon me the honor of the "Kick-Batootie Blogger Award." However, if I join the club and use THEIR terminology, Barbie dot com will NEVER allow a link to my blog and what kind of mess would I find myself in THEN?? To be shunned by Barbie would be a thing most grave.

Let me be clear, though. Sunshine, I am most touched that you gave me the award and think that it's really awesome (like you). If I could blog half as well as you it would be sooooooooooo cool. (Check her out at http://sowhatwasisaying.blogspot.com/.) She rocks!

And since I haven't gotten to read everybody yet and don't want to overlook any batootie-kickin' bloggers, rather than name 5 and link here there and everywhere, I'm going to name my favorite blogger in the world. The absolute best blogger of all time:

Greg Page

Don't tell me he doesn't even blog. How do you know? I sure don't know. And anyway, it doesn't matter. If he did, he'd shame us all.

Can you argue with that? Hmmmmm???

One-Hour Photos Gone Wrong

Tonight I'm blogging by special request about another Greg Page concert weekend. I know, I know, those of you who know me well have already read the novellas I wrote after each of these weekends, but nevertheless, I'm going to tell a little GP weekend story and if you're planning to read my blog tonight, you're going to read it! ...you know what I mean. And rest assured, it won't be the same as when I originally journaled about the weekend because it's been five years since it happened and my memory is ... well ... my memory...and that's being pretty generous with the term.

Kristen, Ms. I-Want-My-Cookie, requested I retell the story, even though she lived through it with me. Apparently she was amused by the retelling of her inability to get over a cookie...wait, inability to get over a non-cookie, and so she figured this would be fun. I think she's right because before I can even begin to recall details, I have this mental image of literally being unable to stay standing because I was laughing soooooooooooo hard. Maybe I shouldn't say that, because it sets you all up for hilarity that I might not be able to deliver. I mean...what if this is an "I guess you had to be there" type of situation? Well, I guess we'll find out in a few minutes, won't we? So it's up to you. You can risk this falling flat and read on...or run for your life now.

Here we go....

Kristen and I had traveled to Las Vegas...separately...but she had supplied me with standby tickets...just like she did to Nashville (See Get Over It...just a couple days ago.) She did this even though we'd never met, because she figured of all people in the world, *I* needed to be at Greg's first US concert. I agreed with her, lol. And since I was unable to purchase airfare, she stepped in. THANKS, KRISTEN!

It is SO hard to isolate one tiny event from the weekend because from the moment I got off the plane until I got back on it to leave, Kristen and I laughed ourselves silly. It was just one thing after another that cracked us up. Neither of us drank anything stronger than a coke all weekend so we can't even blame it on "chemically-altered" behavior.

Anyway, we had seen Greg's concert, aka The Greatest Show On Earth, on Sunday night. After the show Greg had taken time to meet and greet everyone who cared to stick around for a photo and an autograph etc. And of course we stuck around. There was another gal, Cindy, with us as well as Kristen's hubby, for the concerts. Kristen, Cindy, and I, all three, brought our cameras and all three of us took individual pictures with Greg...on all the cameras. (Actually, I had two cameras with me, but can't remember if I used both at the meet and greet or not...not that it matters.)

After taking the photos and eventually heading back toward our hotel rooms, we decided that we MUST get the photos developed and take the photos back for autographs on the second night. So the next morning rolled around and since Kristen was pregnant that year, too, we took care of food first thing and then the customary driving down the sidewalk in Vegas. No wait...we did that the next morning...and I THOUGHT IT WAS A SERVICE DRIVE, so relax. Kristen got a little excited about that, but she got over that. Can't get over not getting a cookie, but I can drive her down a sidewalk ...or through a blasting zone (NOT my fault)...and all's fine. Go figure.

After we got those things out of the way we began searching for a one-hour photo. We had trouble finding one on the strip...it was probably disguised as a slot-machine or a costume fit for Liberacci, but be that as it may, we gave up on the strip. We asked around and finally headed for a mall. Mind you, Kristen and I are all about the photos. That is our purpose in life for the day...other than Kristen's food, of course...but we aren't the only ones on this escapade. We are dragging with us Kristen's hubby, Cindy, and another of Kristen's friends and HER hubby who flew in just because they could and to spend a night or two in Vegas while Kristen was there. SO there are six of us squeezed into a car built for two adults and three small children. I don't know how, though...unless we didn't and there was another car.... Hmmmm.... No I think we squeezed. I can still feel the door handle imbedded in my hip.

Ok, so we squeezed and we drove to the mall. Kristen and I forge the way to the One-Hour Photo and the helpful guy behind the counter tells us that the guy who does the one hour developing won't be in until one. No problem. It's eleven o'clock. That leaves three hours to kill, (two hours before the guy got there plus another to do the pics), but not too hard to do at a mall. So we start milling at the mall. Kristen was looking for formal wear for the "expecting." Cindy was looking for...what WAS Cindy looking for? I was looking for two hours to pass. Kristen got her dress and eventually found me. Everyone else had scattered. So Kristen and I continue to try to kill the time. It was not a total bust either. We saw a Willie Nelson imitator AND bought Kristen's hubby an alien drivers' license. The imitator and the license were equally appreciated.

Finally, after circling the mall enough times to cause dizziness, we see that it's time. We rush to the photo place and approach the counter. At this point we're exuding excitement. We can hardly contain our excitement to get the photos and see just how great we just KNEW they'd turned out. The man behind the counter hands us our packs of pictures and we begin going through them right there at the counter. We shuffle packs so we have the right ones from our respective cameras and we start going through them. I'm feeling disappointed and TOTALLY disgusted at my pictures. Every shot was a blur that every felon out there hopes his identifying photo will look like. It might as well have been Marty Feldman up on the stage from the looks of my photos. I was so irritated and completely engrossed in what I was doing for a minute...as was Kristen. Then breaking the silence, Kristen said, "Hill, where are the meet and greet photos?" My brain is going, "WHAT? What is she talking about? My Greg pics look like Marty Feldman." And then her question breaks through the thick walls of my head. I look at her. I blink a couple times and say, "In the camera....at the hotel."

It was at that point that Kristen and I lost it. Not like we were laughing loud and obnoxiously. Like we were laughing so hard we were making no sound, but I remember distinctly holding on to the edge of the counter with all my might because I was going down for the count, I was laughing so hard. We stood there laughing so hard we were crying. Meanwhile the two men working in the store (when I managed a glance their way) had these amused grins on their face...and a bit of a baffled look. It was SEVERAL minutes before either of us was capable of speech. Finally, one of us...and I don't remember who...realized that Cindy had her camera with her...........and it was digital. (Kristen and I were still in the dark ages with actual FILM in our cameras.) So we gather our strength (hey! laughing is exhausting!) and we head out to cruise the mall (because we haven't spent enough time there yet) and we race around and finally find Cindy. We were still laughing pretty hard, and if I recall correctly we weren't too good at explaining ourselves, so we just managed to get the camera out of her hands and raced back to the store.

5 minutes later we held in our hands the pictures we'd waited three hours for...and if we'd known it earlier we could have done it in those 5 minutes to begin with. We wouldn't have even needed Mr. One-Hour. ::sigh::

So there ya have it, Kristen. As well as I can remember it, anyway.......without re-reading my novella.

A phavorite foto...

I thought I'd join in with Candid Carrie's Friday Fiesta Foto Finish.

This is one of my many favorite photos. The reason I love it is simple enough. What's more fun and heartwarming than seeing your children laughing together?

Get Over It!

Now I don't go around telling everyone to "Get over it!" It's a rather harsh statement, but I think, if you'll read on, you'll agree that this is a case in which it is entirely fitting to say, "GET OVER IT ALREADY!"

A little over FOUR years ago, my good friend Kristen and I went to Nashville to see the grooviest of all men, Greg Page, perform with the TCB Band. (They used to play with Elvis.) Kristen sent me standby tickets to fly on Southwest Airlines, where she used to work. Now, for those who don't know me, it is paramount that you understand that I am the hugest fan ever of Greg Page (former lead singer of the children's group, The Wiggles.) These Nashville concerts were not Wiggly, but "grown-up" music. It rocked, to put it mildly.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...and the concert is not the point of this blog, so let me get back to it.

Due to excitement and not willing to risk being bumped from a flight (the risk you take flying standby), I opted to go a day before, which happened to be a Thursday. Kristen wasn't free to leave and join me until Friday. So I got to the hotel first, obviously. Upon checkin at the hotel, The DoubleTree, I was given a warm chocolate chip cookie. So I took my cookie and my bags and headed to my room.

Another thing you need to understand is that a Greg Page concert weekend is NOT about food. (Kristen never read that memo, apparently...as you'll soon see.) I can't eat on those weekends because I'm SO excited about getting to see Greg. I mean, just being in the same city as him sends my tum-tum into lockdown. And it's fine by me. I can survive off adrenalyn for that long, no prob.

Well I get to my room and though not too into the cookie, it IS a WARM cookie, so I try a bite. (That's what I do with all food throughout these weekends. I figure if I get a calorie or two, here and there, I'll be fine.) Problem: the cookie had nuts. WHY DO THEY DO THAT?? Blegck!! That should be illegal, so I pitch the cookie into the garbage and got on with life. Translation: I went down to the lobby to sit and wait to see if Greg would walk through. Yes, he was in the same hotel. No, he didn't walk through until VERY late that night. And yes, I was still sitting there when he did. (Although SOMEWHERE in there I left to get a sandwich across the street. I bet he snuck through then. Hmmmmm....)

Next day comes and (leaving out all kinds of Greg-related excitement because frankly, some of you wouldn't appreciate it...or understand ::sniff,sniff::...or couldn't take it, lol) I go and get Kristen from the airport. We come back to the hotel, she checks in, too, to get her room key (although we shared the room). And here's the critical point in this story. The DoubleTree didn't give Kristen her warm cookie. They didn't even give her a cold cookie. She got nothing but a plastic card they claim is a key. (Why do we call those cards keys? They aren't. They do the same job, I know, but they are NOT keys.)

Another important item here: Kristen was six months pregnant. So despite the fact that it was a Greg concert weekend, it was still about food for her. She tortured me and made me try to eat when she did.

Angry pregnant woman did NOT get her cookie. We won't go into her reaction when I told her I threw mine away. This is a family site. (Just kidding...not THAT bad.)

I cannot count the times I've heard since then, "I still haven't gotten my cookie!" I've even mailed her another cookie with microwave directions for warming it, and a most apologetic, though forged, letter from the management of that hotel, but does that count? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Kristen wants her cookie from The DoubleTree.

So let's all say it together, with love, of course: "GET OVER IT ALREADY!"

Books, books, books

Reading...it was my first real hobby, my first real passion aside from my spiritual life. Then along came this computer and distracted me for about 5 years easily...but I'm rediscovering books. And I still love them!

But something has happened. It hasn't been a drastic change but there was a time I'd rather poke my eyes out than read non-fiction. Give me fiction! And please, make sure there's a good love story in it somewhere. No trash please. Just a good wonderful love story that gives me hope that there ARE men like that out there. However, I must have grown up these past 5 years because I've found that there ARE SOME non-fiction selections I can appreciate.

Before I delve into them, I have to stop and pay some homage to the best piece of fiction ever written: The Last Sin Eater, by Francine Rivers. Go to your library or a bookstore IMMEDIATELY and get it. It's amazing.

Ok, now back to my new-found appreciation for non-fiction. I have found that there are areas of my heart and soul which I need to pay attention to. I've found that there are corners that have been bruised over the years and they need healing. Ignoring them does not bring healing. So a couple days ago I was out and not planning on buying any books. I'm seriously trying to be very frugal right now and not spend a penny more than I should. But there were three books I could NOT turn away from. And not in a sense of "I HAVE TO HAVE IT!! I WAAAAAAAAAANT IT!" but more like.... Like.... Like I'd look at it, then put it down, thinking "Later. I can wait." And then feeling a nudge inside telling me to get it. So I finally paid heed to the nudge (which I believe is the Holy Spirit giving me some guidance, speaking to my heart) and I bought them.

I've begun two of the three, and really am anxious to start the third one, but just haven't yet. Two of these books are about changes in me. The first is "Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul." You can bank on me coming back to share some neat stuff I'll learn from that one. It's off to a good start, but I don't have any particular "nuggets" to share just yet. The second is "Love as a Way of Life: Seven Keys to Transforming Every Aspect of Your Life," by Gary Chapman. It's the one I'm still looking forward to. It has a chapter on forgiveness which was the hook for me. More on that another day. The third is "Have a New Kid by Friday." Anyone who knows me also knows how badly I'd like to have more kids. Being single, I'm thinking this book might be my only present hope. Ok, just kidding. It's about discipline. The subtitle is "How to Change Your Child's Attitude, Behavior, and Character in 5 Days." It's by Dr. Kevin Leman. I'm already intrigued by it and can hardly wait to finish and IMPLEMENT the strategies. It's fascinating. I haven't finished it but already feel comfy recommending it to others. My prayer is that I can stick to it. I want desperately to be more patient, kind, and gentle with my girls...............but more firm, too. I want to set an example for them of self-control, even when I'm displeased. And I want to teach them better obedience (like first-time obedience) and more respect. The book gives me some hope and I'm enjoying the read, too.

I suppose that's it. Nothing earth-shaking. Nothing funny. Just sharing because these books represent some big changes I want to make in ME.

I Should Have Been a Singer

Don't laugh at me. I should have! NOT A Capella...because I like to jump to a variety of keys if I have no accompaniment. And then there's a little...wait, strike that, ... BIG problem I have with timing and rhythm. But I should have been a singer.

I'm tellin' ya. I'm a real pied piper. If I sing...they come.

You think I'm joking. Today, my girls were playing "office" in Alli's room. Alli was apparently giving some career counseling to Megan, from what I heard. (She found out Megan is good at making sandwiches and recommended she try working for Subway.) I headed for the kitchen, thinking I'd clean when I saw the cd player sitting there...and I KNEW what was in it. I couldn't resist. I went over and pumped up the volume and began singing and dancing to the soundtrack from Mamma Mia! I was having the time of my life and convincing my children that I am among the stranger creatures on the planet. I went boogeying down the hall and began lip-synching as I peeked around the corner of the career counselor's doorway. At first I just got smiles from the counselor and giggles from her client. I headed back to the kitchen. But it was too much fun to have alone, so back down the hall I went and I began more lip-synching and peeking into the counselor's office. This time Little Miss Counselor said, somewhat politely, "Mom, you're interrupting." Her client just laughed and did some lip-synching of her own. Ooooookay, back to the kitchen. It was better in there anyway; the music was louder.

Confession: I didn't pay much heed to my chastisement for interrupting. Nope, I went right back down that hall repeatedly because you just can't stop the music sometimes.

But finally, along came "The Dancing Queen." You can't lip-synch to "The Dancing Queen." No way, Jose. You have to belt it out. It's the only way. So I did. Megan couldn't take it anymore and came running down the hall to sing and dance along. Alli, still the career counselor, tried to maintain her professional image and stayed in her office, until I finally cried out, "Come on, Alli! You KNOW you want to!" And vrooooooooooooooooooooooom, out came Alli.

I was thrilled. Now we could REALLY have fun...or so I thought.

But I was wrong.

Alli shot right past me and............

turned off the music.

That does it. Tomorrow I'm breaking out "Music & Lyrics."

She'll wish she'd danced.

The Gender Question

After sharing my last blog (Dad's been there.), I got to thinking of the funny little stories from my own kids. Kids can be so stinkin' funny.

When my youngest was 4, I think, we lived in a condo where the cutest little dog named "Happy" lived next door. Happy was a sweet little guy and both my girls loved him. One evening after we had been visiting with Happy's lady :) Alli asked me, "Mom? Is Happy a female?....or an e-mail?"

Hmmmm...tough question.

No kisses on the lips for you!!

My brother has a little boy who looks just like my brother when he was a small fry. He's five years old now and adorable as he can be. We just got back from spending a couple weeks visiting them and my mom. My nephew would come running and it was such a sight to see...arms and legs flying all over the place. There's good entertainment in watching five year olds run. If you haven't done so, you should make a point to watch.

Anyway, my nephew refuses to kiss his mama on the lips. Absolutely refuses. He's adamant about it. Finally one day, his mama asked him why he wouldn't kiss her lips. His reply??? "Dad's been there."

Looooooooooooooooove it.

TOO MUCH CAFFEINE!!!...leads to COOTIES!

So, this summer I've been trying to "ease up" on drinking soda...pop...coke...whatever you call it in your neck of the woods. Universal translation: 16 TBS of Sugar in a can. You'd think I'd have some hyperactivity, wouldn't you? You'd think the stuff would be a bit chewy, wouldn't you?? Anyway, you'll notice that I said, "ease up." I meant it. I'm NOT quitting; that would be ridiculous. It's a comfort food for me, AND I have to keep up with kindergarteners...a whole roomful of them, for crying out loud. PLUS in the "almost three" years I lived in Africa, Coke probably saved my life. I KNOW it kept me from (pardon me for saying so) HURLING on numerous occasions. So I OWE soda the courtesy of continuing to drink it.

Well, I'd done really well until I decided it was time to get as frugal as I can. By "easing up" I basically intended to not drink more than one soda a day, if that. There have been many days I've done just that...one or less. I've felt rather good about that. But as I've started pinching pennies, I got to thinking. When I get the cravings for a soda, I will run to fast food, or a convenience store, or grab a single serving at a check out. That adds up.......fast. So I decided to grab some at the store...a 6 or 12-pack. And when I got there I saw the little 8oz cans and thought, "How perfect!" because that would be like 1/2 a can a day which is even better than a whole can. Then I compared prices and yadda yadda yadda, I walked out with THREE 12-packs of soda. I'm a genius. That was three days ago and I'll bet you there's at LEAST 12 empty cans on my kitchen counter. (WHERE IS MY RECYCLING BIN????) So much for doing well. MUST get back with the program...and WILL........won't I?

Anyway, "TOO MUCH CAFFEINE ...leads to COOTIES!" is my topic, not "I HAVE NO SELF-CONTROL AROUND SODA/POP/COKE", so I'd best get to the point. Yesterday, after who knows how many Pepsi or Wild Cherry Pepsi, it eventually becomes bedtime. There I sat in bed...1am...heart thumping...mind reeling. Stupid caffeine. I got to thinking and somehow relived all the BIG memories of my elementary school years...one grade at a time, lol. I'm not dishing it all out today, so don't worry, supper won't burn while you read up, but I WILL share about the cooties. (So glad, aren't you?)

It was third grade. A little boy rode the same bus I did. We'll call him Pete to protect his anonymity, lol. Pete was not a popular kid. Neither was I, but I think he was just one of those kids who got ignored or worse most of the time. He wore black rimmed glasses when they were definitely NOT the style and they were thick as could be, and sadly, I think those glasses...and a bit of an overbite...influenced how he was treated. We all know how kids can be, right? Well, I was the little girl who was never unkind to anyone (unless you count that bully when I was in kindergarten...boy did HE catch an earful...HEY, HE HAD IT COMING!!!..but that's for another day.) So I was always nice to Pete, like I was to everyone. Well Pete had a crush on me....which in retrospect was kind of cool, because he was the ONLY guy to ever have a crush on me...unless you count a guy named "Animal" in high school. Oh help. Anyway...coooties....FOCUS! One morning on the way to school, the bus stopped to pick up another kid, and out of nowhere, Pete comes zooming up, kisses my cheek and zooms back to the back of the bus and dives for cover. So what does Hill, FULL OF GRACE, do? She sobs. I was shocked. I was furious. I was mortified. Did he NOT know that in 3rd grade, the passing of the cooties is greatly frowned upon?????????? Oh how my world fell apart. I rushed off the bus and into the bathroom and tried to calm down and get into class without being late. He was in my class of course and I refused to even look his way for some time. Of course by the time I got to class, everyone in class knew what Pete had done. So on top of giving me cooties, he furthered my mortification (and I'd thought it was already complete, ha!) by telling the entire class. Interestingly enough he followed me in line later that day or week saying, "You can beat me with your baton if you want." He was sorry. I eventually forgave him, but the damage was done. I had cooties. ::sniff::

And no, I did NOT beat him with my baton. No comment on how badly tempted I may or may not have been to do so.

See? Too much caffeine leads to cooties. That should be impetus to give up the caffeine, I'm thinking.

Where has summer gone??

Oh the summer temperatures haven't gone anywhere, no doubt about that, but our summer break is all but gone. One week from today I head back to my classroom to prepare for another batch of kindergarteners...but I'm already grieving the loss of summer. It's kind of like going on vacation to see someone really dear. My first day there I already start the countdown in my head..."I've only got six more days with them" and sadness hits. The sadness goes while you're having fun, but each night as you ready for bed you tick off another day and think, "I've ONLY got...."

Why IS that? I would like SO badly to just enjoy the moments and let them be wonderful. I mean, being together with loved ones is so important and so wonderful, so why can't we just save the "missing" for when we're apart. I wish I understood that better and could keep from feeling that way. I work at it...but it's just that - WORK.

Anyway, nevermind that. I'm feeling rather meloncholy tonight...I have for several days. I have so much to be thankful for. If I listed the blessings God has given and is giving...known to me and unknown to/unnoticed by me, the list would be so great. Yet, I feel meloncholy. I get a bit tired of being the person I am right now. I want to be GREAT. And I don't mean that in terms of success that the world recognizes. I just know I could do so much better at so many things and in so many ways, yet I've settled for some time...due to a form of depression (not a chemical thing, but circumstantial I think)...and I've been tired of it for some time, but how does one pull oneself OUT of it? That still, small voice I recognize as God's tells me that He's the one who pulls us out...that one doesn't do it on one's own....BUT there are things, practically speaking, that a person has to do to help with the process, I think. And I'm failing in making the grade I think.

(Sheesh, maybe I shouldn't blog late at night. WHAT an UPPER!)

I'm sitting in the middle of my queen-size bed between two sleeping girls. Tonight's going to be crowded! I can't tell my girls "no" every night, (though I manage to rule it out during school weeks) no matter how crowded and uncomfy it is for me. I mean they just want to be with me. How special is that? I love them. They're incredible.

Okay, I'm winding down this rambling mess. I should really have written earlier today...like when the girls and I were singing and dancing around to "The Dancing Queen."

Later.....

Taking the Plunge...

Aww man!! Taking the Plunge (Take two....since I just deleted it all in one fell swoop.)

Where on earth does one begin when one begins to blog? I have no idea, so let the rambling begin!

As a kid, all I ever wanted to be was a mom and, when work would be necessary, a teacher. Now I'm a kindergarten teacher and teaching is NOT the critter it was when I was a kid. I find myself torn. Teaching fits my schedule and (basic) needs as a single mom, but I've found that I am not doing what I love.

Over the past decade and a half, I've developed an increasing desire to be a writer. So what have I done about that? Hmmmmmmmmm...that would be NOTHING.

So, while blogging isn't exactly a career change, it is a step in the "write" direction. Pardon the pun. Who knows? This just might be interesting...