I have been extremely slack with posting lately. Don't worry, you haven't missed much. I've been working and making jewelry and babysitting and trying to stay well. Daddy has bronchitis and Mommy Dearest has an upper respiratory infection. I fear that I'm coming down with a deadly combination. Stuffy head, sore throat, lots of snot, coughing, sneezing...awesomeness.
We celebrated the BFFAE's birthday on Friday. I did my best to orchestrate a get together, but a big chunk of people couldn't make it. It was lots of fun. Two of our best friends from high school days came (M.Elmo an Vron). We had about 12 in all. Of the 12, four of us wore argyle sweaters. We. Are. Old. After a very long dinner, we went to another bar to listen to a live band.
Saturday, my family trekked down to Alabama for Christmas with Daddy's side of the family. It was a slightly smaller gathering than normal...only 19 people. We have moved away from giving gifts, so it was just an afternoon of food, games, and conversation.
Sunday, we had Christmas with Mommy Dearest's side of the family. We had a huge spread for lunch. You'd have thought it was Thanksgiving all over again! There were about 27 people there. Since Mommy Dearest is the baby of 9, there are 19 years difference in age between her and her her oldest sister. My Aunt Joan (the oldest) passed away in January of 2008. She has 2 sons, one of which has a daughter a few years older than me. That being said, the other has a daughter that is 10 years old and her name is Skylar. Skylar desperately wanted to learn how to play the piano/keyboard, but had never had a single music lesson. I took it upon myself to Google some Christmas songs to teach her. Bear in mind, I have not touched a piano since I quit lessons in the 7th grade. I "relearned" how to read sheet music so that I could teach her some basic Christmas songs. I numbered her fingers, and wrote down a string of numbers for her to play. That was much easier than trying to teach her how to read music. She successfully learned "Jingle Bells" and "Deck the Halls." Sweet kid.
I have way too much to do and literally no time in which to do it. I haven't wrapped a single gift, and I'm still waiting for some to arrive via UPS. Nothing like waiting until the last minute...
Daddy is having knee and ankle surgery on Thursday. Yes, that would be December 23, two days before Christmas. Thanks. I will be spending my Christmas vacation playing nurse, all while trying to relax and not catch "the crud." I wonder how successful I will be...
The BFFAE and Mr. S flew out this morning, bound for Mexico for the holidays. Bon Voyage!
A special thanks to S.E.Dubs for bringing me coffee and a muffin this morning. That's probably the only reason I am still (barely) awake.
I'll post pictures and more stories later. Right now, I'm trying extremely hard to not fall asleep on my keyboard. Eyelids...heavy...
Snuggles,
A
12.10.2010
I take dating advice from children and that does not make me creepy.
I realize that I haven't really had anything exciting to blog about lately. Hence the posts about pie. Tonight, I actually have a funny story to share. Sit back and enjoy.
I'm sure you've realized by now that I'm a babysitter extraordinaire. Thursday night, I had the pleasure of spending time with two of my favorite little girls, Ellie Belle and Pookie. (Those are not their real names, but that's what I call them and that's what matters.) Today is Ellie Belle's 6th birthday. Happy birthday, Ellie Belle! Last night, EB casually mentioned her "boyfriend" in conversation.
Moi: So, is your boyfriend Spencer cute?
EB: Hes funny. That's what really matters.
True statement!
Moi: How do I get a boyfriend like you?
EB: You just have to wrestle with him. Then he'll want to be your boyfriend for sure. At school, I talk about how Spencer and I are going to get married.
Moi: What does Spencer think about that? (If I mention anything even remotely close to marriage to a guy, he runs for the border, changes his number, and sells his identity on Craigslist to the first bidder. Or he suddenly remembers that he's Jewish and has a deep-seeded fear of commitment and breaks up with me over the phone while I'm on vacation. I'm lucky like that.)
EB: He wants to marry me, too.
Moi: How did you get him to want to marry you already?
EB: You just have to wrestle with a boy like a hundred times and then he'll definitely agree to marry you.
Ooohhhhhh, so that's how you do it. Clearly it is easier when you're 5. When I asked her the best place to wrestle, she told me that you're only supposed to wrestle outside. If only I could make Ellie Belle's plan work for me. I have a feeling that I'd have very different results. By my tone, I'm sure you can tell that things with Golf Guy aren't exactly going as I'd hoped. I'm not really ready to get into all that and I don't want to make assumptions about it, but I'll probably share it all in another post.
Pookie is 3, and she is a firecracker. She calls me Alicagain. I've been called much worse. She got a "big girl bed" last week. It's not your standard twin size bed that kids usually transition to after a crib; it's a legit full size bed. I put her in her jammies, read her bedtime stories, tucked her in, turned off her lights and left her so I could put Ellie Belle to bed. I hear her calling out for her Mommy, so I go back in and check on her. I was caught by surprise when I opened the door. The lights were on, her jammies were in the corner, her diaper was on the floor, and she was standing naked as a jaybird in the middle of the bed. I asked her what had happened and she shrugged and said "I dunno." Priceless.
Ellie Belle kept getting out of bed and told me that she was just too excited about her birthday to be able to sleep. I told her that if she didn't go to sleep, she would never turn 6. She immediately said goodnight and stayed in bed the rest of the night. Lies work like a charm. I'm going to be such a great mom...in like 20 years. If I can ever find a boy to wrestle with and rope into marrying me. That seems very unlikely.
In other news, I bought Princess Fiona some light-up reindeer antlers. I'll get pictures of that soon. That may be a contributing factor in my singleness.
Hugs,
A
I'm sure you've realized by now that I'm a babysitter extraordinaire. Thursday night, I had the pleasure of spending time with two of my favorite little girls, Ellie Belle and Pookie. (Those are not their real names, but that's what I call them and that's what matters.) Today is Ellie Belle's 6th birthday. Happy birthday, Ellie Belle! Last night, EB casually mentioned her "boyfriend" in conversation.
Moi: So, is your boyfriend Spencer cute?
EB: Hes funny. That's what really matters.
True statement!
Moi: How do I get a boyfriend like you?
EB: You just have to wrestle with him. Then he'll want to be your boyfriend for sure. At school, I talk about how Spencer and I are going to get married.
Moi: What does Spencer think about that? (If I mention anything even remotely close to marriage to a guy, he runs for the border, changes his number, and sells his identity on Craigslist to the first bidder. Or he suddenly remembers that he's Jewish and has a deep-seeded fear of commitment and breaks up with me over the phone while I'm on vacation. I'm lucky like that.)
EB: He wants to marry me, too.
Moi: How did you get him to want to marry you already?
EB: You just have to wrestle with a boy like a hundred times and then he'll definitely agree to marry you.
Ooohhhhhh, so that's how you do it. Clearly it is easier when you're 5. When I asked her the best place to wrestle, she told me that you're only supposed to wrestle outside. If only I could make Ellie Belle's plan work for me. I have a feeling that I'd have very different results. By my tone, I'm sure you can tell that things with Golf Guy aren't exactly going as I'd hoped. I'm not really ready to get into all that and I don't want to make assumptions about it, but I'll probably share it all in another post.
Pookie is 3, and she is a firecracker. She calls me Alicagain. I've been called much worse. She got a "big girl bed" last week. It's not your standard twin size bed that kids usually transition to after a crib; it's a legit full size bed. I put her in her jammies, read her bedtime stories, tucked her in, turned off her lights and left her so I could put Ellie Belle to bed. I hear her calling out for her Mommy, so I go back in and check on her. I was caught by surprise when I opened the door. The lights were on, her jammies were in the corner, her diaper was on the floor, and she was standing naked as a jaybird in the middle of the bed. I asked her what had happened and she shrugged and said "I dunno." Priceless.
Ellie Belle kept getting out of bed and told me that she was just too excited about her birthday to be able to sleep. I told her that if she didn't go to sleep, she would never turn 6. She immediately said goodnight and stayed in bed the rest of the night. Lies work like a charm. I'm going to be such a great mom...in like 20 years. If I can ever find a boy to wrestle with and rope into marrying me. That seems very unlikely.
In other news, I bought Princess Fiona some light-up reindeer antlers. I'll get pictures of that soon. That may be a contributing factor in my singleness.
Hugs,
A
12.09.2010
Let's hope the bees stop buzzing.
Let's get serious for a minute. I just read Raising Colorado's latest post and my heart sank. If you haven't checked out her blog, I demand encourage you to do so. She's fantastic and funny and just plain awesome. Recently, she's had to deal with some unpleasant things. Now, I've never met her, but I read her blog religiously and I follow her on Twitter, so I feel like I know her. Here's what I'm asking of my readers: take a moment and send some love/prayers/happy vibes/good thoughts her way. Do it for Troy. Do it for me. Do it because it's almost Christmas and that's the kind of love that Jesus is all about. Just do it.
This one's for ZDub,
A
This one's for ZDub,
A
I'd like 3.14 pieces of pie.
Why is it so cold? I live below the Mason Dixon line in a state that is shaped like a piece of pie. Like apple pie. Apple pie is warm. Maybe it cools down a little when you serve it a-la-mode, but it's still mostly warm. And we have yet to have any a-la-mode up in this piece (I'm considering snow to be a-la-mode). It's ridic. It is currently 30 degrees outside and that's not acceptable. It feels like it's just as cold in my office. I have on a long-sleeve shirt, a fleece vest, a scarf, and a fleece jacket. And I'm still cold. Like freezing. Now I want apple pie. Crap.
I wish I had exciting stories to share today, but I don't. I have stuff going on, but nothing that I'm ready to broadcast to bloggy land quite yet. Still digesting it all. Figuratively speaking. I don't need to write about the things that I literally digest.
I'm going to go now and hope something exciting happens. Wish me luck.
Hugs a-la-mode,
A
I wish I had exciting stories to share today, but I don't. I have stuff going on, but nothing that I'm ready to broadcast to bloggy land quite yet. Still digesting it all. Figuratively speaking. I don't need to write about the things that I literally digest.
I'm going to go now and hope something exciting happens. Wish me luck.
Hugs a-la-mode,
A
12.08.2010
How do you clean up a soap spill?
Ok people, this is day 5 of a migraine. There should be a law against this. If I don't get relief soon, I may have to head to the hospital for a shot of the good stuff. Let's hope I don't have to resort to this. The "new guy" at work (who is 63) told me to freeze a kitchen knife and hold the cold blade on my jawline. I'm not sure how that will help, and I'm pretty sure that's the craziest thing I've heard all week. Should I drink some kerosene while I'm at it??
The furbaby is a bad girl. There was a brand new jug of laundry detergent sitting on the kitchen counter. Sometime in the middle of the night, she must have jumped on the counter and knocked it over. When it fell, the cap broke and detergent spilled all over the kitchen floor and rug. Not a good situation. Here's a very important question for all of my lovelies out in bloggy land: How do you clean liquid detergent out of a rug? The rug is too big to wash in the washing machine and I don't want to make a holy sudsy mess. Please help!
Update from the doctor: I do not have a stress fracture in my foot. Thank you, baby Jesus. As it turns out, I have severely irritated my metatarsals and the muscles surrounding them and my fat pad on the ball of my foot has atrophied. Hot mess. I kicked the boot to the curb again. Well, not really. I'd probably hurt myself worse if I kicked the boot, but you get what I'm saying. That was a little piece of good news in my life.
It's so cold in my office. My hands are freezing, my nose is cold and drippy, and my feet are like ice cubes. I don't like winter. I live in the South, and I expect the temperatures to adjust themselves accordingly. I am not ok with the fact that it is currently 25 degrees outside at 9:50am. No thank you.
I'm rocking out to the Glee Christmas CD and trying to not be a Scrooge right now.
Snuggles,
A
The furbaby is a bad girl. There was a brand new jug of laundry detergent sitting on the kitchen counter. Sometime in the middle of the night, she must have jumped on the counter and knocked it over. When it fell, the cap broke and detergent spilled all over the kitchen floor and rug. Not a good situation. Here's a very important question for all of my lovelies out in bloggy land: How do you clean liquid detergent out of a rug? The rug is too big to wash in the washing machine and I don't want to make a holy sudsy mess. Please help!
Update from the doctor: I do not have a stress fracture in my foot. Thank you, baby Jesus. As it turns out, I have severely irritated my metatarsals and the muscles surrounding them and my fat pad on the ball of my foot has atrophied. Hot mess. I kicked the boot to the curb again. Well, not really. I'd probably hurt myself worse if I kicked the boot, but you get what I'm saying. That was a little piece of good news in my life.
It's so cold in my office. My hands are freezing, my nose is cold and drippy, and my feet are like ice cubes. I don't like winter. I live in the South, and I expect the temperatures to adjust themselves accordingly. I am not ok with the fact that it is currently 25 degrees outside at 9:50am. No thank you.
I'm rocking out to the Glee Christmas CD and trying to not be a Scrooge right now.
Snuggles,
A
12.06.2010
I'm internationally known on the microphone.
I just checked my blog stats, and I'm becoming an international sensation. Kinda. Here's the scoop on my readers outside of the United States:
Anddddd scene.
A
- Denmark: 5. U bent ontzagwekkend to all of you from Denmark. That means "you are awesome" in Dutch.
- Germany: 4. Sie schaukeln meine Welt, Germans. That means "you rock my world" in German.
- UK: 1. 'Allo lad (or lady).
- Philippines: 1. Salamat sa pagbabasa, kaibigan. That means "thanks for reading, friend" in Filipino.
Anddddd scene.
A
In a funk. Rebooting and regrouping.
Today is one of those days. I just feel blah about everything. I'm lacking in the self-worth and brains department. I think I need a life coach. Someone that will force empower me to make good life choices and remind me that I'm a kick-ass person. Sometimes I forget/doubt it. On top of my poor life choices, I forgot to pay my rent this month. What?! It's due by the 5th of the month. I remembered today. Today is the 6th. I had to pay a really awesome $66 late fee. I've never been late with my rent. If you could see my face, it's not a happy one.
Here's a hypothetical situation for y'all to ponder. Let's say there is a really awesome person who may or may not have a case of the "likes" towards you. (You have indicated that this is mutual, although you tend to be hot and cold, just like Katy Perry said you'd be.) You invite said person over to hang out and she is super thoughtful and knows that you didn't eat supper, so she brings you some leftover homemade spaghetti and some chocolate cake. Thoughtful, remember? She was even cool enough to bring you enough so that you could take it to work tomorrow and have lunch. What would you think/do? If you answer incorrectly, you are dead to me. Just kidding. Well, maybe.
I'm in a funk. I feel like that episode of Glee. Help.
In case you haven't heard via Facebook, I had to reboot. That's right, I'm wearing das boot again. I have been having a lot of pain in my right foot and I was trying to shrug it off and pretend that it was just going to hurt while I was getting used to walking in normal shoes. Last Wednesday, I had physical therapy. I told her about my pain and that one of my toes looked funny. She thinks I have a stress fracture. The bad part? It's in a completely different area of my foot than the original break. I guess I just have brittle feet? I go back to the doctor in the morning for x-rays and we will see. Add bionic feet to my Christmas list, Santa baby. I also need wool socks because my toes get cold in das boot.
And to revert back to the origins of this blog, I will leave you with some song lyrics:
"'Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?'...Winter just wasn't my season." -Anna Nalick, "Breathe (2AM)"
Meh,
A
Here's a hypothetical situation for y'all to ponder. Let's say there is a really awesome person who may or may not have a case of the "likes" towards you. (You have indicated that this is mutual, although you tend to be hot and cold, just like Katy Perry said you'd be.) You invite said person over to hang out and she is super thoughtful and knows that you didn't eat supper, so she brings you some leftover homemade spaghetti and some chocolate cake. Thoughtful, remember? She was even cool enough to bring you enough so that you could take it to work tomorrow and have lunch. What would you think/do? If you answer incorrectly, you are dead to me. Just kidding. Well, maybe.
I'm in a funk. I feel like that episode of Glee. Help.
In case you haven't heard via Facebook, I had to reboot. That's right, I'm wearing das boot again. I have been having a lot of pain in my right foot and I was trying to shrug it off and pretend that it was just going to hurt while I was getting used to walking in normal shoes. Last Wednesday, I had physical therapy. I told her about my pain and that one of my toes looked funny. She thinks I have a stress fracture. The bad part? It's in a completely different area of my foot than the original break. I guess I just have brittle feet? I go back to the doctor in the morning for x-rays and we will see. Add bionic feet to my Christmas list, Santa baby. I also need wool socks because my toes get cold in das boot.
And to revert back to the origins of this blog, I will leave you with some song lyrics:
"'Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?'...Winter just wasn't my season." -Anna Nalick, "Breathe (2AM)"
Meh,
A
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
