Sunday, June 29, 2008

Keepin' cool...

One of the neighbor girls earned a prize from her parents for completing her summer reading goal, she selected a small inflatable pool (smart kid) and invited Evie to join her and her sister for a dip this afternoon.
Evie LOOOOVED it! She was so worn out by the time she was done, she almost fell asleep as her daddy carried her back across the street.



Friday, June 27, 2008

When nobody minds the store

Scene:
I have just returned with Evie from an hour-long walk and we have just finished lunch.

Upstairs, on our bedroom floor is an air mattress that we have yet to deflate; it is there from last weekend's house-guest extravaganza, Evie has been using it as her personal jungle gym.

Bryan is sitting downstairs in the living room, I'm in the kitchen on the phone with my neighbor. Evie is walking around downstairs.

I think Bryan is watching Evie, Bryan thinks I am watching Evie. In fact nobody is watching Evie.

Evie is doing her own thing.

We find her upstairs, she has closed the gate behind her. She is laying on the air mattress in our bedroom, thumb in her mouth. She is trying to take a nap.

This is the low point.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

I hate Portia in the springtime...

....I hate Portia in the fall.

I hate Portia in the summer when it sizzles, I hate Portia in the winter, when it drizzles.

I hate Portia every moment.

Every moment of the year.

I hate Portia.

Oh, wow, how I hate Portia.

Because she barks all YEAR!

Friday, June 20, 2008

A curious connection...

Do you remember my post, "Do Not Feed the Animals" where I wrote a semi-serious, semi-sarcastic post about needing a "do not touch" sign for Evie's stroller when she was a tiny baby? I got a lot of attention on the internet for it especially in the blog world. Apparently I'm not the only one who thought of it:

Check it out, somebody has actually made a sign.


I find it curious that the article uses the same phrase I use to compare the sign, "don't feed the animals."

Very curious indeed.

Just getting a little Vitamin D


Wednesday, June 18, 2008

And then the heavens rejoiced



The closet is fixed! All I had to do was leave everything exactly as it was when it fell, and my husband was thus inspired to repair it. Thank you husband, you are truly wonderful.

An open letter to the Punk Skateboarder who Rides On My Street (PSWROMS)

Dear PSWROMS,

Every day, you ride your skateboard up my street. My street is a private road; it took me a long time to figure out exactly where you were going. My first concern however, was that it was the middle of the day and you should be in school. Once I determined you don’t attend school, at least not during normal school hours, I determined you were visiting our neighbor at the top of the road (NATOR,) who is also a non-traditional student, as in, she doesn’t go. She is rarely home, however. Oftentimes, you will just ride up and down my street until NATOR comes home. I find this annoying.

What I find curious however is that even when NATOR arrives, you rarely stay. She will pull in, and within two minutes of her arrival, you will leave. This phenomenon has lead me to believe that you are up to no good. I started coming up with all kinds of scenarios as to why you would hang around and then leave within two minutes of her arrival. My conclusions were, A) you were stalking her; B) you were making some kind of nefarious “exchange” with her when she arrived.

Then about two weeks ago, she picked you up, and you drove off into the sunset together, only to return 20 minutes later (yes, I have no life and watching the sordid activities of the teens on my street entertains me. Plus, NATOR drives like a bat out of hell, so it’s hard to miss her.) I thus concluded you weren’t stalking her, and option “B” was more likely.

I still haven’t seen what you do, exactly, only that you go back and forth several times a day and it annoys me. Why? Because every time you go up and down the street the dogs in the neighborhood go nutty. Also, you ride in the middle of the street as if you are in some kind of parade and everyone else can just wait for you. That is obnoxious, but I’m sure you don’t care, because you are a teen and thus the world obviously revolves around you.

Yesterday, your obnoxious behavior hit new heights and I almost killed you as a result. No I’m not kidding, you should know, you were there.

I was pulling down the road, slowly, because the little neighbor children were playing and I was being cautious. It is certainly a good thing, because had I been driving normal speed, as in, faster than the 10 miles an hour I was driving, you would be quite dead right now.

You were riding on your skateboard, but you were sitting on it, as if you were in the luge. Somehow, in your idiot teen brain, riding on a skateboard in a seated position is not only fun, but also a brilliant idea. And so you were riding, luge style and you came whipping around the corner, from the main road, the road where traffic drives at 50 miles per hour. You came whipping around the corner and crossed out in front of me; I slammed on my brakes and you missed my front left tire by less than a foot.

12 inches or less, and you would have been road meat. As in squashed, dead, no more.

I stopped, screamed threw my hands up in the air and looked at you with a “what in the hell?!?!” kind of face; you gave me a big smirk. Then you waved and continued down the road, seated.

You WAVED and you SMIRKED at me? You little $#!% head. It was all I could do not to jump out of my jeep, grab you by the shoulders and shake you a bit. You have no clue how close you just came to death. You think it’s all a joke, but it’s not a joke, it’s very serious and I almost ran over you, with my very big, very heavy SUV. You are lucky it was me driving and not your friend, because she drives like an idiot, she never slows down, and had it been her, you would be very, very dead.

I wanted to grab you and yell at you and shake you until you understood how serious it was. I wanted to make you afraid, I wanted to call your mother and explain the severity of the situation until everyone was so scared that she would drive down here and shake you herself, until you were crying you were so afraid.

But I didn’t do any of these things.

I didn't because you waved at me and when you waved, I realized that my yelling at you would do no good. You would look at me like a crazy person and you would joke with your friends about the crazy lady who live in the house down from NATOR, who jumped out and yelled at you that one time.

But rest assured you little punk; I’m not done with you. The next time I see you, I’m headed out of my house to have a nice, cordial little chat. I was shaking yesterday. I was shaking, and I was crying and I was upset, because I almost killed a kid on a skateboard and so I just drove on and left you alone.

But I’ve calmed down now, and now I’m going to calmly talk to you, because you need somebody to point out to you that you nearly ate it yesterday. You may still roll your eyes at me and that’s fine. But you’re not going to continue past this house without at least talking with me, knowing that somebody cares that you lived to tell the tale.

Thank you.

Monday, June 16, 2008

500 Posts!!!

Happy 500 posts to me!

To some it may seem insignificant, but I have hit the 500 posts, mark. If I were a sitcom, I'd be canceled by now.

When I started this blog I was student teaching to a bunch of eighth graders...now I'm a mom to a little girl who will be one year old in two weeks. Much has changed and yet much has stayed the same.

I'd love to say that for my 500th post I would have something really profound to say or share, but I fear that I am tired and it is late and thus all I can do is congratulate myself and go to bed.

The end.

An OCD nightmare

We heard a horrible thud upstairs, we went running up. Thankfully, it wasn't our child climbing out of her crib, she was still fast asleep.

Sadly, however, we found all my clothes crashing to the floor:


Everything was so pretty and organized, pants lined up by color and style, hanging below their matching category of shirts, each with a finger's width between each hanger. Sweaters and sweatshirts all folded neatly in stacks according to weight and use. A few special items from my childhood in their own basket on the shelf, it was every OCD person's dream.

Now it is all a big mess as I wait for a solution to the problem that has now occurred twice; the cheap wire rack has pulled right out of the wall, although anchored to the studs (I am told by my husband.)

Those of you who know me, know I don't have a large collection of clothes either, it's not like I have 50 pairs of pants weighing it down.

So cheaply this house was built.

Happy Father's Day!

A warm day, a baseball game and his baby girl. It doesn't get much better than that.