"Der no is white stuff for dunkin' dis in.' - no, but there was birthday cake ice cream...

..just wild turkeys showing up in our subdivision for the first time. Out there all hours of the day, hangin' out in the 'hood.

My lovely urn!! With actual real-live flowers blooming. Still!!! In late August. I'm so proud. Look.

This will be my third beautiful, bold hibiscus thingy!! Maybe I'll remember to show you a picture tomorrow or Saturday.

Monkey see....Monkey do!!!
This is getting in the car after running after-school errands with Mom.
Same Wonderful Stuff, Different Beautiful Day!!!!!


None of this makes my butt look big, right?

A few of my friends and quite a number of stranger-bloggers I read post wonderful, poetic things about the moments of their lives, including the miraculousness of their children. It really never occurs to me to share those things. Truthfully, it rarely occurs to me that I'm experiencing those things. And by the time I get to the computer I'm aggravated with said miracles, so I vent instead.

I recently read a post from one Mommy blogger (I'm new to this, have no personal connections with any of these modern marvels and have read WAY too many Mommy blogs lately to credit this accurately. So, I'll paraphrase...) who wrote charmingly of her marital status hinging on the status of garage storage availability. Which comes to mind almost daily around here as M'oney has issues with our home's storage capacity/things-I-want-to-keep ratio. I've kept just about every child-related article we've acquired since the birth of M, 6 years ago. First it was stashed away for the possibility of a second child (that "better be a girl or cross-dresser from day one!"). Then, when The G came along, quite a lot of it was resurrected and, due to a considerable size and growth rate differential that somehow always comes to bear at the change of season, quite a lot was added. Now, it's all been put away for the someday child of my younger sister. Having been to the infertility clinic for the conception of both of my girls and having endured the asinine things people can and will say about your sex life, your life plans, etc...while going through the emotional - not to mention hormonal - joyride that is, I try not to question my sister too much about the plan behind timing of the conception, arrival or whatever of this someday child ("that better be a girl or a cross-dresser from day one!"). However, the 3,600 square feet plus attic & garage are not enough to contain both M'oney and the stored bounty. Sorting through it all the other day in an attempt to satisfy M'oney with yet another configuration - this time, it's a real winner that has all of the storage boxes out in the open where we have to look at them, instead of in the walk-in closet in the basement (????) - it began to dawn on me that this might be an absurdly large amount of stuff.

The rationalizations began to cascade from my subconscious. Which is when I knew for sure there was an issue. But I turn to you, kind Internets, for codependence in my hour of need!! And I know you'll help me on this. 'Cause I've been reading your blogs, too...
This isn't a problem, right?? For the first kid, this was shoes through age 3. For the second one, this collection lasted through about 18 months (family feet!). Because I know my sister is reading, I'll mention that the 3 single shoes to the bottom right have partners; they're just not in the boxes I've most recently been through. Which amounts to everything from birth to almost 2T...

While I'm feeling up to the abuse, I'd also like your commentary on this:

Speaking of my sister's someday child...M's friend Kn has a friend she refers to very often by the name of Arissa. I don't know the child. I don't even know the correct spelling. At first, I thought it was Kn's speech. Then I heard her Mom say it that same way - Arissa... All I know is that every time I heard about Arissa, I pictured a little Asian girl in ethnic dress with ponytails sticking out from the sides of her head. I know, it's bad. But no worse than the number of times I've laughed since meeting Arissa at Kn's birthday party. She IS Japanese!!!! Who's worse, me or her parents???


She's Baaack! aka I'm exhausted already

For those of you who've asked (and hopefully a good number who haven't), I thought I'd let you know that The G is back in town. Yippeee!!!!!!!!!

If you were here with me, it would be easy to tell because it is noon and I'm still in my pajamas. Miss G was up and doing who-knows-what at 1 am. I gave up at 1:44 and got out of bed, brought my book and pillow out to the couch. 3 trips up the stairs to get her back in bed. Then she appeared in the family room. There was loveseat squiggling, an excess of blanket rearranging, a brief attempt at Mommy cuddling, more blanket shoving and then, finally, rhythmic breathing. She woke when I tried to remove my half a butt cheek from the edge of the couch by sliding backwards ever so slowly to the floor. So I told her I was trying to make more room for her and she closed her eyes in queenly satisfaction. I read for a bit on the loveseat to make sure she was out and then returned to my bed at 4-something. I saw, but I forget. So she's back and in full effect.

Meanwhile, M had a successful first dayof first grade.

Despite the soap-opera type lead-in - which I will blog about in the next week or so - it was an uneventful occasion. Exactly what I needed. No reaction from M yet on anything except Miss L

doesn't give them as much play time as in K. Note how exhausted M looks. My attempts to work into the school year bedtime routine failed. So then I went for just setting the alarm 10 minutes earlier every day. Whatever force it is that operates my children fought back by responding with later & later requests for more light or one last snack or something each night until we were almost staying up for the alarm. By the night before the first day, I think we were down to 5-1/2 hours of sleep.

There you go, so we are back to normal. All is well with the world. Everyone is where they belong and Mommy is grumpy, exhausted, unshowered and lacks the willpower to clean, water plants, or stick to her diet.


Have you met my birdbath?

A gift. From M'oney. I know...once they took off the cold compress, it still took me 2 weeks to get it together enough to post this. I love it!! I have to water it, but it won't die and no weeds! Lovely!



More perplexing than choosing the best service plan for your cell phone...
more baffling than deciding between magnet, charter or private Kindergarten...
more stressful than picking the proper root touch-up color...

is explaining the concept of phone numbers to the 6 year-old.

Yes, you can just press 2 for Daddy, 3 for Grandma & 5 for Nammie (central number, signifying home), but that's just on MOMMY's phone. You can't just pick up any phone and press 2 for YOUR Daddy. He has a number.

No, I mean a longer number; it has 10 digits.

Digits are like a single....Listen, trust me. If you were ever somewhere and needed to reach Daddy, you need to know all of his numbers. They're six-one-nine-eight-six-seven-five-three-oh-nine*. And mine are...

They just don't understand the whole concept of phones and safety and memorization!!!! And here's something that really bothers me...If I'm in the house by myself with the kids and I succumb to a brain aneurysm (or pulmonary embolism or whatever - medic/crime solver shows are my thing!!), they will not only need to know how to dial 911 (and hit send!!!) but first and foremost, they will need to FIND MY PHONE!! Scary! This could be easily solved with a landline, I understand. And there's been discussion. But there's been no transaction. DH is reluctant to part with le monee for a red-line phone. 'Member when the cell was for emergencies only? Now we need a $29.95 a month landline for it.

I've tried to explain how, back in the olden days, a family had a phone in their one bedroom apartment where they shared a single bathroom with just a metal stall shower and it (the phone) was connected to the wall. And the part you put by your ear was connected to the part on the wall and you needed to STAND STILL, inside the house! to talk on the phone. There was an actual dial which is why they call it dialing the phone and kids were not allowed to use it during business hours.

They're already lost when I try to explain that you used to call a phone, not a person. If you called their number and nobody was home, no one would answer. The 3yo pipes up with "so weave a meshage" and I know they've written me off as a kook! I'm not though, right?? You guys had a phone attached to the wall, didn't you?? And your parents didn't get an answering machine until you were in 6th grade because buying those refill mini-cassettes was too expensive, right??

* some numbers have been changed for Daddy's privacy - and Mommy's amusement

When commenting, please keep the discussion to technology, children, fond childhood memories and the perplexing ringtone/texting/pic phenomenon. Let's leave my kookiness out of it. I'm hip!!!! I'm blogging aren't I??????


this one is called...

Prepare the meat!!!

mmmm, woodsy

It never occurred to me exactly how much we do in a month. I have a tendency to only count trips or occasions that involve white sand beaches or buttercream frosting.

Here in the first week of August, the Fam is off on the first of many adventures – “camping” in a cabin at Table Rock State Park. There’s no TV (we brought DVD player), very little cell phone service and no internet (unless you count the free wifi we can get if we go out of the campground, cross the highway and hang out at the Welcome Center – which D & I will both take turns doing at some point this week).

At cabin #5, there are rockers on our screened porch, Adirondack chairs around the firepit, central air and a small but full-service kitchen (if you count the fridge in the livingroom). A short stroll from the cabin is a Mack Daddy playground; beyond that is the swimming beach. The highlight of that is a floating dock with high & low diving boards and the whole thing made almost perfect by the fact that the roped-off area is designed for the containment of non-swimming child-types, not the generic forbidding of all humans to go out over their heads like at most places these days. The trip in its entirety is made all the more enjoyable by evil giggle fits that keep overtaking us when we think about our friends I & KC who went tenting with their 2 kids (4 & 6) last week and endured all of the disasters encountered by suburbians in the woods.

While here, enjoying the nature and the peace, I’m hoping to catch up on some overdue blog posts/family adventures; some of which may include (all from July):

Bele Chere
Cherokee – possibly several on this alone
Roller Derby
Carl Sandberg Home
Landscape Inspirations
Art Center Performances
Aah, Sunday Morning
More Saturday Woodcrafts
Typical Saturday
Neighborhood Happy Hour
2 Themed birthday parties in one day

The Parks Service is in the midst of a multi-year program of renovating these already fantastic cabins. They’re going to rewire, put in new heat & air systems, and I don’t know what all else. We’ll be down here at least once a year. Hope to see you on the high dive!!!


back in da 'hood

Jus' a lil sompn sompn from our trip tuh SC dis week



and the title is....

I'm addicted to Shear Genius (Bravo)
That's NOT Cilantro
2 Aspirin & 3 glasses of water don't help
Family, Jules
Get out bitch, that's my cab
Was this really the 80s???
That poor girl forgot her pants!!!
If they can't handle a little vomit in their driveway, F 'em - they shouldn't a bought the house.
Oprah don't know Jack - aka Don't think you can win the Daddy didn't love me game!!!
Mandarin, really!!!
I almost drank out of Spencer's glass....
I have to be a Fairy tomorrow!!!!
You guys rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank you for everything
Here's to neighbors