Since Cap'n Neurotic is sporting a cast on his finger, typing is nil to none down his way,but because he's always thinking ahead, he made up a movie survey before his surgery. Feel free to do it, too and visit Cap'n while you're at it, okay?
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1. Where do you like to sit at the theater? Front row, back row, or in between?With stadium style theaters usually the first row of the second section of seats if for no other reason than to put my feet up on the bar there. This was actually Cap'n's answer and I kept it. But I'll add that by sitting on that front row the kids can sit in those two or three seats all by themselves between the floor seats and the stadium seats. They think that is the awesomest.
2. Foreign language films – subtitles, dubbed, or not at all?
Funny, I have never in my life watched a foreign film until these last few months when I watched Pan's Labyrinth and Apocalypto within a few days of each other and the subtitles didn't bother me, but I wouldn't want to do it regularly or anything.
3. Favorite movie watching snack food?
Popcorn - it's all about the popcorn. If I'm too broke for theater popcorn, I'll snag some Junior Mints at Wal*Mart for .33 beforehand and hide 'em in my "movie purse."
4. What thing will turn you off of a movie almost immediately?
If Jackie Chan is in it or if it stars a current or former WWE star. Those two elements are the kiss of death for me.
5. Movie you’re most upset you paid full price for?
RV and The Simpsons Movie - both were utterly ridiculous wastes of film and I lost IQ points by seeing them.
6. Movie you didn’t have to pay full price for, but which was still a complete and total waste of your time?I wanna know how people are getting into the movie for less than full price!
7. Movie you loathe with the fiery white hot passion of a thousand suns?Borat
8. What was your first R rated movie?
I don't have the slightest idea. That was eons ago. I remember once at a slumber party, my mom let us rent a Chippendales video and Eddie Murphy Raw, so maybe those were my firsts.
9. What movie did you go to see the most times at the theater?
Probably Footloose
10. Most overrated movie?
There are a bunch, I'm sure, but none are coming to me right now.
11. Most underrated movie?
Napoleon Dynamite - I mean, yeah, it has a following, but it is movie genius and there are just so many out there that haven't experienced the magic that is Nappy D.
12. Movie that you always get sucked into when it comes on TV no matter how many times you’ve seen it?10 Things I Hate About You - if it is on, I cannot keep myself from watching it.
13. What special features do you usually watch on DVDs?
Outtakes, bloopers and if I'm incredibly bored, the behind-the-scenes stuff
14. Widescreen or pan-and-scan?
Not a clue. I just grab something on the shelf and whatever it is, I watch it.
15. Most disappointing film sequel/prequel?
Saw II and III
16. Biggest pleasant surprise?
As funny as this is going to sound, Taladega Nights. I was fully expecting it to suck.
17. Whose taste in movies is closest to your own?
Tater. We share a brain.
18. Whose taste in movies is furthest from your own?
Queen Tammy
19. Movie adapted from a book: do you read book or watch movie first?
Always, always, ALWAYS read the book first. Especially if Stephen King has had anything to do with either.
20. Movie you’re almost ashamed to admit you like?
Larry the Cable Guy, Health Inspector
21. Biggest tearjerker?
There are five movies that nearly kill me - Steel Magnolias, My Life, Penny Serenade, The Bridges of Madison County and The Notebook. I need an IV to rehydrate me after I've watched any of these.
22. Scariest movie?
To this day, I still haven't made it all of the way through Sixth Sense. I get as far as the tent scene and I'm nearly crying because I'm so freaked the hell out. And please don't laugh, but The Blair Witch Project scared the piss outta me.
23. Obscure movie you love but which almost nobody else knows of?
I'm pretty mainstream in my movies.
24. What’s the biggest factor in making you decide if you want to pay to see a movie in the theater or wait for the DVD?
There are just some movies that you can tell they are gonna be "renters." I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry is one current movie out now that I will not pay theater price to see, but I'm sure we'll rent it. Taladega Nights was a "renter," too, but turns out, I liked it. You never know, but I'm usually pretty sure what's gonna be worth $7.75 and what's not.
25. What do most of your favorite movies have in common?
Laugh-out-loud BWAH! moments, utter stupidity, lots of the f-word.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Come to Jesus and get some cake
It is no secret among those who know me in real life, that I enjoy some precious alone time occasionally. Those of you who know me best know that I love my kids with the ferocity of an Ethiopian in a Krispy Kreme, but there are times when I am simply mommied out. I have stayed at home for the last 12 years and sometimes those walls close in and I have to escape.
Summer time is the perfect time for me to get a few moments in here and there because of VBS. Oh yes, I love me some Vacation Bible School. Oh no, I don't attend. I just send the kids. I have become one of those parents. I deliver my kids then drive off to cavort wildly, wreak havoc on mankind and sometimes take a nap.
Usually they make three VBS sessions during the course of the summer, but this year they missed out on going to the one at Mrs. Coach's church, so up until this week they had only gone to one. Mom teasingly commented several times on my lack of effort in finding VBS respite this year. She said I had become a slacker on the VBS circuit and people were talking. She's so funny sometimes.
Most VBS's are in the evenings these days because most parents who volunteer also work, but there is one church in town that still does morning VBS. My kids have gone there for four years and it is a church we actually were members of years ago. I really do like this church; it's not too bad for a Baptist church. And above all, they are friendly people. I know a lot of the members and walking through the doors is like coming home.
So if there was a Baptist church I would consider attending again at this point in my life, it would be this church. I'm working on it. The fear that lightning would strike me if I were to walk through the doors on a Sunday is holding me back. I was there last night and there wasn't even a slight electrical surge, so I'm thinking things might be okay.
Wednesday Mom picked them up after VBS and brought them home to me because I had indulged in over 24 hours of mommy time thanks to my angelic mother. I fixed the kids lunch and then in an attempt to re-introduce Kady to this theory called "nap," I made the kids lie down for awhile. Of course, Kady wailed and gnashed her teeth and pouted and whined and there were many tears before she completely passed out mere seconds after I left her room. Sam was pouting because he is so eight and in the third grade and how DARE I make him take a nap like a baby. How dare I, indeed. I told him he didn't have to sleep, he could just read a book and rest and be quiet, but then he got angrier because I suggested he actually read. A book. Did you get that? I suggested that my child READ A BOOK. Next thing you know I'll be forcing him to mainline cocaine because I am just that kind of mother.
I went into Ab's room to turn on her fan and kiss her on the forehead like I always do because she has already informed me that if there is sleeping involved for the rest of her life, I am required to tuck her in. Her husband is going to love me for that one. She looked up from her Beverly Cleary book as I kissed her, then I turned to leave. She quietly said, "Mom?" I turned and said, "What, angel?" She got this shy little grin on her face as she said, "I, uh, have something to tell you." I said, "Alright. Shoot."
"Today.....I took Jesus into my heart. Mom, I got saved!"
And instantly I, the meanest, cold-heartedest, naptime-forcing dang Baptist mother in the universe began crying. And squealing. And hugging. And I was utterly overjoyed that my daughter had invited Christ into her heart. All the squealing drew curious Sam from his pouting fit to find out why there was joy somewhere in the house and he wasn't involved. I said, "Bubby! Your sister took Jesus into her heart! Isn't that great?" And because Sam is the middle child and will forever have issues because of the spot he got stuck with, sandwiched between two sisters, he got angry again because "Well, I want to be saved, too. Why can't I be saved? If Abby got saved then I want to be saved because that is only fair."
Do you see why I need some me time every now and then? Sibling rivalry will be the death of me yet. My headstone will say,
So I explained to him that salvation wasn't something you just do because you want to keep up with the Joneses and he crossed his arms and asked what the Joneses had to do with his sister getting to do something that he didn't get to do. Many, many words and sighs later, he had the concept down. Sort of. It resurfaces every now and then still, though. And when it resurfaces, I bang my head on hard things.
Last night was the VBS program. I invited Mom and Tater to come out here afterwards for dinner. At the church, Tater asked what we were having. I listed everything I had made and at the end of the list was "chocolate cake." She said, "Ooh, chocolate cake? What did we do to deserve a homemade chocolate cake?" I said, "It's for Abby." And with a grin I added, "It's her 'Come to Jesus cake.'" Mom was listening and when I said "Come to Jesus cake" she leaned over and quietly said, "You do know where you are, right? You're in a church and Jesus can hear you!" I said, "Mom, He can hear me when I'm not in a church, too, and frankly, I like to think that He's happy I made a cake in His honor." Then Mom mumbled something about not sitting close to me because she didn't to get hit by the impending lightning bolt.
After dinner, when we cut the cake, Sam got mad because I hadn't made him a Come to Jesus cake and that's when I called the Baptist Children's Home because I think they need three more little Baptists to come stay with them.
Summer time is the perfect time for me to get a few moments in here and there because of VBS. Oh yes, I love me some Vacation Bible School. Oh no, I don't attend. I just send the kids. I have become one of those parents. I deliver my kids then drive off to cavort wildly, wreak havoc on mankind and sometimes take a nap.
Usually they make three VBS sessions during the course of the summer, but this year they missed out on going to the one at Mrs. Coach's church, so up until this week they had only gone to one. Mom teasingly commented several times on my lack of effort in finding VBS respite this year. She said I had become a slacker on the VBS circuit and people were talking. She's so funny sometimes.
Most VBS's are in the evenings these days because most parents who volunteer also work, but there is one church in town that still does morning VBS. My kids have gone there for four years and it is a church we actually were members of years ago. I really do like this church; it's not too bad for a Baptist church. And above all, they are friendly people. I know a lot of the members and walking through the doors is like coming home.
So if there was a Baptist church I would consider attending again at this point in my life, it would be this church. I'm working on it. The fear that lightning would strike me if I were to walk through the doors on a Sunday is holding me back. I was there last night and there wasn't even a slight electrical surge, so I'm thinking things might be okay.
Wednesday Mom picked them up after VBS and brought them home to me because I had indulged in over 24 hours of mommy time thanks to my angelic mother. I fixed the kids lunch and then in an attempt to re-introduce Kady to this theory called "nap," I made the kids lie down for awhile. Of course, Kady wailed and gnashed her teeth and pouted and whined and there were many tears before she completely passed out mere seconds after I left her room. Sam was pouting because he is so eight and in the third grade and how DARE I make him take a nap like a baby. How dare I, indeed. I told him he didn't have to sleep, he could just read a book and rest and be quiet, but then he got angrier because I suggested he actually read. A book. Did you get that? I suggested that my child READ A BOOK. Next thing you know I'll be forcing him to mainline cocaine because I am just that kind of mother.
I went into Ab's room to turn on her fan and kiss her on the forehead like I always do because she has already informed me that if there is sleeping involved for the rest of her life, I am required to tuck her in. Her husband is going to love me for that one. She looked up from her Beverly Cleary book as I kissed her, then I turned to leave. She quietly said, "Mom?" I turned and said, "What, angel?" She got this shy little grin on her face as she said, "I, uh, have something to tell you." I said, "Alright. Shoot."
"Today.....I took Jesus into my heart. Mom, I got saved!"
And instantly I, the meanest, cold-heartedest, naptime-forcing dang Baptist mother in the universe began crying. And squealing. And hugging. And I was utterly overjoyed that my daughter had invited Christ into her heart. All the squealing drew curious Sam from his pouting fit to find out why there was joy somewhere in the house and he wasn't involved. I said, "Bubby! Your sister took Jesus into her heart! Isn't that great?" And because Sam is the middle child and will forever have issues because of the spot he got stuck with, sandwiched between two sisters, he got angry again because "Well, I want to be saved, too. Why can't I be saved? If Abby got saved then I want to be saved because that is only fair."
Do you see why I need some me time every now and then? Sibling rivalry will be the death of me yet. My headstone will say,
"Here lies our darling mother, who loved me best.
No she didn't, she loved me best.
Nuh uh, everyone knows I was her favorite."
So I explained to him that salvation wasn't something you just do because you want to keep up with the Joneses and he crossed his arms and asked what the Joneses had to do with his sister getting to do something that he didn't get to do. Many, many words and sighs later, he had the concept down. Sort of. It resurfaces every now and then still, though. And when it resurfaces, I bang my head on hard things.
Last night was the VBS program. I invited Mom and Tater to come out here afterwards for dinner. At the church, Tater asked what we were having. I listed everything I had made and at the end of the list was "chocolate cake." She said, "Ooh, chocolate cake? What did we do to deserve a homemade chocolate cake?" I said, "It's for Abby." And with a grin I added, "It's her 'Come to Jesus cake.'" Mom was listening and when I said "Come to Jesus cake" she leaned over and quietly said, "You do know where you are, right? You're in a church and Jesus can hear you!" I said, "Mom, He can hear me when I'm not in a church, too, and frankly, I like to think that He's happy I made a cake in His honor." Then Mom mumbled something about not sitting close to me because she didn't to get hit by the impending lightning bolt.
After dinner, when we cut the cake, Sam got mad because I hadn't made him a Come to Jesus cake and that's when I called the Baptist Children's Home because I think they need three more little Baptists to come stay with them.
The power of 800
Constant Reader, you are now reading history here at Redneck Diva. This is my 800th post. Since I continually forget my bloggiversary every dang year, I guess I'll have a party to celebrate my 800th post.
Let's get jiggy wit' it!
Come on in to my redneck gatherin' place and see what's goin' on. While it's not a double-wide trailer, the pink bathtub in the field does lend a bit of redneck flair, don'tcha think? And this is no UnParty like Hillbilly Mom has been known to throw (not that there's anything wrong with that) - it's a real live party! AND, I'm serving Come to Jesus cake (see next post). Now, don't you feel special?
Yep, it's a fancy schmancy soiree here tonight. I'm wearin' my camouflage capris and so far no one has inquired about my "life partner" (read the last paragraph of that post to understand) or the fact that I might like women (I like women, some of my best friends are women) (I also like using parenthesis) (A lot) but I figure someone will question my sexual orientation before the night's over. The waitress will probably flirt with me, like the one at Montana Mike's steakhouse a few months back. Yep, the camouflage capris are quite the misleading conversation starter about who I like to spend quality time with. And end prepositions with.
Anyway, aside from wearing my camo capris, I'm also wearing my Miss RSJS sash and tiara. Ooh, I can't forget the scepter! Gotta go dig that out of Kady's toybox.... I had to dust my tiara; it's been awhile since I've worn it, too. Gosh, that seems like an eternity ago, winning the contest that pitted me against some really wonderfully talented female bloggers. Oh wow, it was two years ago...
Sam's here in his lime green cast, Abby's here as well, in her camouflage, too, (like mother, like daughter) and sporting a commemorative Technicolor Childfoot. Heh, her foot's okay, she just likes to hobble around and say to the guests, "Hey, remember the time my mom tried to get a splinter out of my foot and we ended up spending 3 hours in urgent care while we were on vacation?" Kady's sporting her new fish-face polka dot shoes and not much else. It's a good thing I draped a tablecloth over the pole in my bedroom, otherwise momma's little pole dancer would for sure be the entertainment.
Some of my best blogfriends are here, too. Heck, I'm their favorite redneck diva, so they better be here!
Even though she is the worst blogger EVER in the updating department, my little sister Tater is here. (Believe it or not, she actually wrote a post a few weeks ago. I know, I know, I was amazed, too. Send her some love in the comment section and maybe she'll be better about updating. Don't hold your breath, but we can all hope.) I was going to have a band come in as entertainment, but since I haven't gotten my first paycheck from my new job yet, Tater and I are going to clog for y'all instead. Yep, grab the camera, it's bound to be entertaining. Keep an ambulance on stand-by -I haven't done this in awhile.
Mrs. Coach just arrived and she's pulling behind her a big flatbed dolly full of FREE CHEESE. I'm glad she decided to take a vacation from her job at Hillmomba as Ambassador of Cheese and come hang with us. She's cool like that. I can always count on her and her cheese.
A party isn't a party and an UnParty isn't a party either without Hillbilly Mom! That hillbilly and her lady mullet can bring on da funk. Not, that kind of funk - I'm certain the woman bathes. No, I mean the dancin' kind of funk. Which, now that I think about it, isn't really funk as much as it is interpretive hillbilly dancing to the tune of Dolly Parton and The Transcontinental Hillbilly Railroad or whatever that group is she listens to ad nauseum. Siberian Clogger Orchestra? Foggy Mountain Inbreds? Oh, what IS that group she listens to? Anyhoo, she pulled herself out of Poolio and her free hairwad hottub to be here today. What a friend. Oh, and look! She brought Crashy and Desky! Wonder where Gamey is.....probably with Paul Deen eating lobster in her front yard. Hey, go ask her. I don't know where she came up with that one.
Stewed Hamm just arrived with Cazzie. Guess he picked her up at the airport. They're reminiscing about our Big Blogger days (see May 2006 posts) over there in the corner. I think they're both still jealous that I was picked by Big Blogger to get kicked out but not really, only to make a glamorous come-back and then get kicked out for real. I need to make my way over there and make sure Hamm doesn't get Caz all wound up. She's been a bit tense lately, bless her heart. I don't want to have to call 9-1-1 in Australia for her. I bet their response time would be lengthy.
And because old friends are the best, Cap'n Neurotic hitched a ride up here to celebrate with us! No, he's not flipping you off - that's a cast on his finger. Don't make a big deal about it, he has newly acquired karate skillz and I wouldn't want to piss off a karate dude in a finger cast.
Sam and Anna hitchiked from Cali to be here. Shhh, don't call attention to the gladiator shoes on Sam's feet. They get Anna 27 kinds of riled and we don't want the Queen of Annaland riled. Trust me. She'd likely get Sam's box knife and a bottle of tequila and well, Fitty wouldn't have much to work with when he got here to murder us all because we're bloggers and that's what Fitty does - murders bloggers, then hack us up and stuff us in 55-gallon drums. Just ask my mom. Anyway, I have every intention of getting Anna off to myself here after awhile so we can discuss LOST because we are the shit and we can do that if we want.
Brian trekked across the barren, hot wasteland that is Oklahoma to party with us. He brought all the fixins for appletinis, too! What a friend.
And what party is complete without GoingLikeSixty? Well, NONE! Because he is the mack daddy of partiers. AND HE BROUGHT M&M's!! He alliterates, drinks beer, eats M&M's with a vigor that only rivals mine, likes dogs, and did I mention he likes M&M's? Man, he is here to party hardy today - his wife is on a S.E.X. trip so he's rarin' to go. He's recovered from his drunken blogging a few days ago and uh oh, it seems he has discovered Sam's gladiator shoes -I better go warn him about Anna.
I'm so glad you came to my party! It's all fun and games until Fitty shows up, so get busy!
HAPPY 800 TO ME!!
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Sometimes nothing catchy makes itself available
I will be so dang glad when things get busier.
Yes, you read that right. I'll be glad when things get busier.
Right now I'm only working two days a week. For two days a week, I get up atan unholy hour 6:00 and I get dressed and put on makeup and Chi my hair and wear a bra, but the remaining five days I am a slug. A bum. A saggy-breasted, well-rested, tv addict.
I am the kind of person who needs continuity, routine, organization. Right now I just don't have much of that because I don't have to. Starting next week, I have to because the kids start school. And I'm glad. Week after that I have to even more because my school will be back in session again.
Strangely, I am really looking forward to this semester and I cannot figure out why. I have Algebra (which still kind of makes me wish I had a prescription for Xanax) and Macroeconomics (a subject which I am still unsure as to what it actually is...anyone care to clear that up for me?) and I'm working 20 hours at one job and 5 at another (whoo, five, I'll try not to pull something), plus I still have a husband and three kids to take care of. Yet, I'm excited??? I'm nuts.
Yes, you read that right. I'll be glad when things get busier.
Right now I'm only working two days a week. For two days a week, I get up at
I am the kind of person who needs continuity, routine, organization. Right now I just don't have much of that because I don't have to. Starting next week, I have to because the kids start school. And I'm glad. Week after that I have to even more because my school will be back in session again.
Strangely, I am really looking forward to this semester and I cannot figure out why. I have Algebra (which still kind of makes me wish I had a prescription for Xanax) and Macroeconomics (a subject which I am still unsure as to what it actually is...anyone care to clear that up for me?) and I'm working 20 hours at one job and 5 at another (whoo, five, I'll try not to pull something), plus I still have a husband and three kids to take care of. Yet, I'm excited??? I'm nuts.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
It occured to me
While talking about Sam's broken arm a few days ago it occured to me that the highly esteemed position of First in the Family to Break a Bone does not go to my son.
It goes to my eldest daughter, Abby. The one that has been described more than once as Bambi the first time he tried to walk on the frozen pond. Or a newborn colt. She's alllllll legs and doesn't quite to know what to do with them sometimes. Plus, she's related to me and got the clumsy gene.
She broke her nose in first grade when she fell off the monkey bars and broke her fall with her face. That was not fun.
Her nose doesn't look too bad in the picture, but trust me it got wider and both her eyes were black for a few days.
So, not to take away too much of Sam's thunder, I just felt I needed to give credit to the clutz where credit was due. I mean, he was the first one with the cast and a trip to the ER, but she still broke two bones before he did.
They're all special in their own way. Special and accident prone.
It goes to my eldest daughter, Abby. The one that has been described more than once as Bambi the first time he tried to walk on the frozen pond. Or a newborn colt. She's alllllll legs and doesn't quite to know what to do with them sometimes. Plus, she's related to me and got the clumsy gene.
She broke her nose in first grade when she fell off the monkey bars and broke her fall with her face. That was not fun.
It looks like a picture they take of orphan children needing a home.
Her nose doesn't look too bad in the picture, but trust me it got wider and both her eyes were black for a few days.
I made her smile so she wouldn't look so abused.
For the record, the fall didn't knock out the tooth.
Then last year she broke her toe when she was walking along innocently and a metal folding chair jumped out and grabbed her baby toe and snapped that sucker.
I didn't take pictures of that. Not like the pictures I took of the Amazing Technicolor Childfoot.
So, not to take away too much of Sam's thunder, I just felt I needed to give credit to the clutz where credit was due. I mean, he was the first one with the cast and a trip to the ER, but she still broke two bones before he did.
They're all special in their own way. Special and accident prone.
School Shopping Reclaimed Pussy Hairspray Sister
Friday the kids and I went to Joplin for the big, much-advertised NO SALES TAX WEEKEND. Was that fun? Laws, no. M-O-O-N spells "NO SALES TAX WEEKEND brings out the crazies, the crankies and the horrible drivers." We hit Rangeline, the big main street in Joplin, and for miles I could see nothing but cars and cars and cars. And I just had this gut feeling that virtually everyone in those cars was in a bad mood. Turns out, I was right. That was a weekday - I can't imagine what shopping was like yesterday. Laws.
I had bought Abby some shoes a few weeks ago and apparently her feet have grown this summer. We exchanged them for a whopping size 4 1/2 girls. Next stop: Women's shoes. This seems like a big deal and early to me, but in truth, she has the smallest feet in her class. Last year, most of those 4th grade girls were wearing women's sizes 6 and up. Eegad, what large feet you have, women of tomorrow! Not sure about the boys and frankly, I don't want to go there.
Sam got some generic Payless brand Airwalk look-alike high-top Cons. You know, those things we wore back in the late 80's, early 90's. I had a yellow pair that was almost the color of calf scours, Tater had pink I think. Anyway, Abby bought a pair of low-top look-alikes in the boy section early in the summer, so now her brother decided he needed a pair. She told him that he absolutely COULD NOT get the same shoes as she had, even though they are boy shoes. His are black with dragons on the sides. Abby picked out a pair of girl shoes on NO SALES TAX WEEKEND, though. She tends to lean toward the butchier side in clothing and shoes these days, not that there's anything wrong with that, but I was silently pleased that she picked out some utterly adorable Mary Janes. Kady makes up for any lack of femininity in Abby, what with her wearing polka-dotted high-heels with everything these days, but still I like it when Abby looks like a girl occasionally.
The girls got new backpacks at Penney's because they were all half off. Kady's is Disney Princess and Abby's is camouflage. Of course.
We went to Lane Bryant when our mall shopping was finished. I got some new jeans because at work we get to wear jeans on Fridays and eventually I will start working on Fridays and I want to be ready when that time comes. And thanks to the fact that Lane Bryant is continually working to raise the self-esteem of fat women everywhere, they have changed their sizing on jeans. I now, for the first time in my life, wear a size 6. Of course, that is only in jeans from Lane Bryant, but I take victory where I can and my victory lies in my size 6 LB jeans right now. And boy howdy, they are comfortable. I just might concede that they are most comfortable than any jeans I have ever owned. I think it's because the tag says "6."
Yesterday Abby and I finally started tackling her bedroom. I cleaned Kady and Sam's back weeks before the garage sale, but Abby's is a task not to be approached lightly or without proper rest the night before. And something for my nerves. That child is a packrat, a slob, a hoarder and in some ways, a goblin because of the way she cannot let go of anything. I'm not talking toys, dolls or books, I'm talking gum wrappers, rubberbands and lids, lots of lids. Why lids? Ya got me. I'm stumped. Why the child feels she must save little scraps of paper and lids off of water bottles, I will never ever understand. I am probably stifling her creativity and she'll probably end up in therapy because of it, but I am bound and determined to break her of this awful obsession. She's a goblin, I say.
It's interesting, her room right now. She is literally caught between little girl and big girl. While she loves her lip gloss and clothes and posters of Hannah Montana and Zack Efron, she also is still quite in love with her Cabbage Patch Dolls and Littlest Pet Shop. I will gladly put up with the two sides of her because I'm not ready to see the little girl go just yet. She's constantly struggling with it, but fortunately the little girl is still winning a battle or two here and there.
We're finishing her room today, along with rearranging it and putting up her canopy, which can double as mosquito netting. If you live anywhere near here, you totally know what I'm talking about. That flood bred some scary-ass mutant mosquitoes, I'm tellin' ya.
The big plan yesterday was that a group of us girls were going to go to dinner and then to see Hairspray. The original group was five (would've been six had Cousin Courtney not been AWOL. (Btw, call me, Cousin!)) but then it was down to four. Then three. Then one. Obviously we scrapped the plans. Then Tater and I decided we'd go ahead and take advantage of Paul's good humor and offer to watch the kids. When we told him we weren't going, he said he'd work on the boat (you know, the one that meows), but then decided it was too hot and said we might as well go because he was staying in the house anyway and he might as well hang out with the kids. Sometimes he just does stuff like that and I remember why I love him so dang much.
So we got around and headed out, me in my new size 6 (heehee) jeans and adorable orange chunk-heel sandals that only match one shirt so I wear that shirt a lot to justify the buying of the shoes, and Tater in her "I'm lookin' for a man" shirt. (That's what her ex calls it. If my ex called one of my shirts that, I'd be sure to wear it around him as much as possible, just to make a point. But that's me.) We giggled and girl-talked all the way to Joplin. While I was originally disappointed that the GNO didn't work out, I ultimately am so glad it worked out the way it did. I have missed my Tater. I made her a mix CD for her birthday with nothing but 80's and 90's songs that had some meaning for us - clogging songs, NKOTB songs, Duran Duran, Debbie Gibson and Guns n' Roses to name a few - so we listened to it and just talked.
We ate dinner at Garfield's and had planned on shopping until the movie started, but neither of us really had enough money to shop AND go to the movie so we went to two movies. (Probably cost us more than shopping would have, to be honest) The first one we saw was the The Simpsons Movie and while I'm a fan of the Simpsons, I hated this movie. Hated it. It was dumb and stupid and I didn't like it.. Tater was just upset that so many kids were in the theater, because it was definitely not a kid-friendly movie. The series isn't kid-friendly, so why would the movie be kid-friendly?
After feeling like we lost IQ points for having sat through an hour and a half of cartoon stupidity, we went to Hairspray and let me say that if there had been a spot level enough and cleared out enough for me to have danced, I'd have danced through the entire thing. At the risk of being struck by lightning for saying this, it's better than Grease. I didn't think such a thought would ever be in my head, but yeah, it's better. And what I think impressed me the most is that when Tracey Turnblad wore a sleeveless dress (not once but TWICE) in the movie, they did not make an attempt to cover up her flabby arms. I found that refreshing. She is a large-size girl, she is beautiful and she is talented and she wore a sleeveless dress on the big screen. Yay! It was real. I like real. And I love John Travolta in drag.
Today the kids are taking turns driving Sam's remote control Dodge Ram through the house and over my toes repeatedly. I am catching up on laundry and then Abby and I are tackling her goblin lair. Paul is working on the boat that still meows.
Oh by the way, my feline surrogacy is over. No, Flicka isn't in the great big litterbox in the sky. Nope, she's part of why the boat is still meowing. Friday night I was nearly beside myself because she wasn't eating, she hadn't pooped and I wasn't keen on doing what the internet said I needed to do to make that happen and I was so afraid we were going to lose her and oh wow, the guilt I'd have felt for that one. So I took her outside and held that momma cat down until Flicka finally found her way to a kitty titty and after a few low growls at me and the kitten, Mamacita started licking that kitten and relaxed and commenced to purring. I stood out there, swatting mosquitoes and getting a little misty over the whole scene. When Flicka was done eating, Mamacita stood up, picked her up by the neck and took her out to the boat. Paul was sitting at the picnic table watching the whole scene. He stood up and said, "Kristin! I don't WANT her to take it back to the boat!" I put my hands on my hips and said, "Look, I have bottle fed that kitten for two days. If she is taking her back to the boat, let her. She'll wean 'em in three weeks and you can sell the boat then. Now hush. You're ruining the moment." Let me just take this opportunity to publicy thank Aunt Janet and Cousin Stacey for their offers of help and advice during the kitten fiasco. Family rocks.
I had bought Abby some shoes a few weeks ago and apparently her feet have grown this summer. We exchanged them for a whopping size 4 1/2 girls. Next stop: Women's shoes. This seems like a big deal and early to me, but in truth, she has the smallest feet in her class. Last year, most of those 4th grade girls were wearing women's sizes 6 and up. Eegad, what large feet you have, women of tomorrow! Not sure about the boys and frankly, I don't want to go there.
Sam got some generic Payless brand Airwalk look-alike high-top Cons. You know, those things we wore back in the late 80's, early 90's. I had a yellow pair that was almost the color of calf scours, Tater had pink I think. Anyway, Abby bought a pair of low-top look-alikes in the boy section early in the summer, so now her brother decided he needed a pair. She told him that he absolutely COULD NOT get the same shoes as she had, even though they are boy shoes. His are black with dragons on the sides. Abby picked out a pair of girl shoes on NO SALES TAX WEEKEND, though. She tends to lean toward the butchier side in clothing and shoes these days, not that there's anything wrong with that, but I was silently pleased that she picked out some utterly adorable Mary Janes. Kady makes up for any lack of femininity in Abby, what with her wearing polka-dotted high-heels with everything these days, but still I like it when Abby looks like a girl occasionally.
The girls got new backpacks at Penney's because they were all half off. Kady's is Disney Princess and Abby's is camouflage. Of course.
We went to Lane Bryant when our mall shopping was finished. I got some new jeans because at work we get to wear jeans on Fridays and eventually I will start working on Fridays and I want to be ready when that time comes. And thanks to the fact that Lane Bryant is continually working to raise the self-esteem of fat women everywhere, they have changed their sizing on jeans. I now, for the first time in my life, wear a size 6. Of course, that is only in jeans from Lane Bryant, but I take victory where I can and my victory lies in my size 6 LB jeans right now. And boy howdy, they are comfortable. I just might concede that they are most comfortable than any jeans I have ever owned. I think it's because the tag says "6."
Yesterday Abby and I finally started tackling her bedroom. I cleaned Kady and Sam's back weeks before the garage sale, but Abby's is a task not to be approached lightly or without proper rest the night before. And something for my nerves. That child is a packrat, a slob, a hoarder and in some ways, a goblin because of the way she cannot let go of anything. I'm not talking toys, dolls or books, I'm talking gum wrappers, rubberbands and lids, lots of lids. Why lids? Ya got me. I'm stumped. Why the child feels she must save little scraps of paper and lids off of water bottles, I will never ever understand. I am probably stifling her creativity and she'll probably end up in therapy because of it, but I am bound and determined to break her of this awful obsession. She's a goblin, I say.
It's interesting, her room right now. She is literally caught between little girl and big girl. While she loves her lip gloss and clothes and posters of Hannah Montana and Zack Efron, she also is still quite in love with her Cabbage Patch Dolls and Littlest Pet Shop. I will gladly put up with the two sides of her because I'm not ready to see the little girl go just yet. She's constantly struggling with it, but fortunately the little girl is still winning a battle or two here and there.
We're finishing her room today, along with rearranging it and putting up her canopy, which can double as mosquito netting. If you live anywhere near here, you totally know what I'm talking about. That flood bred some scary-ass mutant mosquitoes, I'm tellin' ya.
The big plan yesterday was that a group of us girls were going to go to dinner and then to see Hairspray. The original group was five (would've been six had Cousin Courtney not been AWOL. (Btw, call me, Cousin!)) but then it was down to four. Then three. Then one. Obviously we scrapped the plans. Then Tater and I decided we'd go ahead and take advantage of Paul's good humor and offer to watch the kids. When we told him we weren't going, he said he'd work on the boat (you know, the one that meows), but then decided it was too hot and said we might as well go because he was staying in the house anyway and he might as well hang out with the kids. Sometimes he just does stuff like that and I remember why I love him so dang much.
So we got around and headed out, me in my new size 6 (heehee) jeans and adorable orange chunk-heel sandals that only match one shirt so I wear that shirt a lot to justify the buying of the shoes, and Tater in her "I'm lookin' for a man" shirt. (That's what her ex calls it. If my ex called one of my shirts that, I'd be sure to wear it around him as much as possible, just to make a point. But that's me.) We giggled and girl-talked all the way to Joplin. While I was originally disappointed that the GNO didn't work out, I ultimately am so glad it worked out the way it did. I have missed my Tater. I made her a mix CD for her birthday with nothing but 80's and 90's songs that had some meaning for us - clogging songs, NKOTB songs, Duran Duran, Debbie Gibson and Guns n' Roses to name a few - so we listened to it and just talked.
We ate dinner at Garfield's and had planned on shopping until the movie started, but neither of us really had enough money to shop AND go to the movie so we went to two movies. (Probably cost us more than shopping would have, to be honest) The first one we saw was the The Simpsons Movie and while I'm a fan of the Simpsons, I hated this movie. Hated it. It was dumb and stupid and I didn't like it.. Tater was just upset that so many kids were in the theater, because it was definitely not a kid-friendly movie. The series isn't kid-friendly, so why would the movie be kid-friendly?
After feeling like we lost IQ points for having sat through an hour and a half of cartoon stupidity, we went to Hairspray and let me say that if there had been a spot level enough and cleared out enough for me to have danced, I'd have danced through the entire thing. At the risk of being struck by lightning for saying this, it's better than Grease. I didn't think such a thought would ever be in my head, but yeah, it's better. And what I think impressed me the most is that when Tracey Turnblad wore a sleeveless dress (not once but TWICE) in the movie, they did not make an attempt to cover up her flabby arms. I found that refreshing. She is a large-size girl, she is beautiful and she is talented and she wore a sleeveless dress on the big screen. Yay! It was real. I like real. And I love John Travolta in drag.
Today the kids are taking turns driving Sam's remote control Dodge Ram through the house and over my toes repeatedly. I am catching up on laundry and then Abby and I are tackling her goblin lair. Paul is working on the boat that still meows.
Oh by the way, my feline surrogacy is over. No, Flicka isn't in the great big litterbox in the sky. Nope, she's part of why the boat is still meowing. Friday night I was nearly beside myself because she wasn't eating, she hadn't pooped and I wasn't keen on doing what the internet said I needed to do to make that happen and I was so afraid we were going to lose her and oh wow, the guilt I'd have felt for that one. So I took her outside and held that momma cat down until Flicka finally found her way to a kitty titty and after a few low growls at me and the kitten, Mamacita started licking that kitten and relaxed and commenced to purring. I stood out there, swatting mosquitoes and getting a little misty over the whole scene. When Flicka was done eating, Mamacita stood up, picked her up by the neck and took her out to the boat. Paul was sitting at the picnic table watching the whole scene. He stood up and said, "Kristin! I don't WANT her to take it back to the boat!" I put my hands on my hips and said, "Look, I have bottle fed that kitten for two days. If she is taking her back to the boat, let her. She'll wean 'em in three weeks and you can sell the boat then. Now hush. You're ruining the moment." Let me just take this opportunity to publicy thank Aunt Janet and Cousin Stacey for their offers of help and advice during the kitten fiasco. Family rocks.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
So, who's throwing me a shower?
I am so tired and frustrated, I hear the echoes of her cries even though she is sound asleep in her bed, I smell of formula and she peed on my shorts awhile ago.
I feel like I am reliving Abby's first few days of life.
If anyone has any advice on how to best care for an abandoned kitten, please, for the love of all things good and not meowing in this world, email me: theredneckdiva (at) gmail.
We got her to suck awhile ago, but she only took half an ounce. I feel like that is just not enough. Granted, she's super teeny tiny, but everything I've read online said she should take more than that at a time. She also didn't really take the nipple of her own volition. It took much coaxing and prying to get it in her mouth and when she finally started sucking the kids cheered so loud I jumped and the nipple came out, thus ending that little moment of bliss.
I thought being a momma was hard, but being a cat appears to be much more difficult.
I feel like I am reliving Abby's first few days of life.
If anyone has any advice on how to best care for an abandoned kitten, please, for the love of all things good and not meowing in this world, email me: theredneckdiva (at) gmail.
We got her to suck awhile ago, but she only took half an ounce. I feel like that is just not enough. Granted, she's super teeny tiny, but everything I've read online said she should take more than that at a time. She also didn't really take the nipple of her own volition. It took much coaxing and prying to get it in her mouth and when she finally started sucking the kids cheered so loud I jumped and the nipple came out, thus ending that little moment of bliss.
I thought being a momma was hard, but being a cat appears to be much more difficult.
Why I'm not a cat person
Our utterly brilliant and completely devoid of maternal instinct momma cat, Mamacita, recently moved her five kittens from their safe little nest in a stack of tires to....
the hull of our boat.
Paul didn't realize it until he started cleaning it the other day and heard his boat meowing at him. He has found a tractor that he wants and the tractor owner is willing to trade for the boat. I'm pretty sure the guy just wants the boat, not a litter of kittens.
Now, please don't sic the ASPCA on us, but stuck the garden hose in a vent and um....we tried to float the kittens out. It worked. Sort of. Two floated out, but the other three remained encased in fiberglass. Paul put the kittens on the carport, hoping Mamacita would take them all and re-hide them.
Oh, but no.....she just took the two back and stuck 'em back in the boat. So last night, we attempted to float them out again. What we ended up with was one wet, scared kitten, a boat that still meows.....
And a momma cat that refuses to take her little refugee. And now......well, now I have listened to her squall for the last 24 hours. Thanks to the wonder of YouTube, you, too, can hear hear squall for a little over one minute.
I have called neighbors all day, trying to find someone with a litter of kittens about the same age and hopefully a momma that will take our little Flicka. No luck so far . The vet said we could try to feed her catfood mush, but given her age he didn't think she'd eat it. She didn't. So Tater is coming over after work with some kitten milk replacer and a teeny tiny bottle. This kitten has all but molested me today, trying to suck on my earlobes, chin and the crook of my elbow.
I feel so sorry for her, but am I really sure I want to bottle feed a kitten every two hours for the next three weeks? That's like breastfeeding all over again. Well, minus the breasts. I didn't do that whole getting up every two hours very well with my human children and I'm pretty sure I'd have animosity toward that furry, squalling kitten who will never give me grandchildren.
If the remaining kittens die in that hull, we'll have a heck of a time selling a boat that smells of dead kitten. And I'm pretty sure we'll go to hell for this whole mess.
the hull of our boat.
Paul didn't realize it until he started cleaning it the other day and heard his boat meowing at him. He has found a tractor that he wants and the tractor owner is willing to trade for the boat. I'm pretty sure the guy just wants the boat, not a litter of kittens.
Now, please don't sic the ASPCA on us, but stuck the garden hose in a vent and um....we tried to float the kittens out. It worked. Sort of. Two floated out, but the other three remained encased in fiberglass. Paul put the kittens on the carport, hoping Mamacita would take them all and re-hide them.
Oh, but no.....she just took the two back and stuck 'em back in the boat. So last night, we attempted to float them out again. What we ended up with was one wet, scared kitten, a boat that still meows.....
And a momma cat that refuses to take her little refugee. And now......well, now I have listened to her squall for the last 24 hours. Thanks to the wonder of YouTube, you, too, can hear hear squall for a little over one minute.
I have called neighbors all day, trying to find someone with a litter of kittens about the same age and hopefully a momma that will take our little Flicka. No luck so far . The vet said we could try to feed her catfood mush, but given her age he didn't think she'd eat it. She didn't. So Tater is coming over after work with some kitten milk replacer and a teeny tiny bottle. This kitten has all but molested me today, trying to suck on my earlobes, chin and the crook of my elbow.
I feel so sorry for her, but am I really sure I want to bottle feed a kitten every two hours for the next three weeks? That's like breastfeeding all over again. Well, minus the breasts. I didn't do that whole getting up every two hours very well with my human children and I'm pretty sure I'd have animosity toward that furry, squalling kitten who will never give me grandchildren.
If the remaining kittens die in that hull, we'll have a heck of a time selling a boat that smells of dead kitten. And I'm pretty sure we'll go to hell for this whole mess.
La Quinta - Spanish for "Take a vacation where you can get one."
After yakking my guts and innards up all Friday night, Saturday morning I felt human enough to traipse off across Missouri with my husband and kids. It's so rare that we can convince Paul to go anywhere with us that I hated to let a measly virus ruin the trip, so by golly we went. I took two Benadryl before we left to quell the nausea, ate Maalox, sipped Coke and read about Harry Potter the whole way.
We got into Springfield around 4:30, found a room at a La Quinta (Spanish for "freakin' awesome motel - and so friendly!) then went to the Wonders of Wildlife museum at Bass Pro Shop.
It's no window snake, that's for sure.
Freaks, my children. Climbing all over large fiberglass snakes like that. Freaks, I say.
This is the net bridge that reduced Kady to tears. She was stuck right in the middle of that thing, shrieking like a banshee, scared out of her mind. We were trying to coax her through, telling her that if she'd get out she wouldn't be scared anymore, but obviously that thought never occured to her and she continued shrieking.
Do you know how many pictures I took trying to get that dang river otter?
A lot.
However, in every dang picture I took, the waistband of Kady's underwear was shining brightly. She is SO her daddy.
Ah, nothing like fake fishing. With a broken arm.
After the museum, we went to dinner at Ryan's Steakhouse, not my favorite place to eat. It's so large and buffet-y and I just feel like I'm one cow in a stampeding herd of hungry, redneck cows trying to fight my way to the trough. Mmmm. After dinner we went to Bass Pro to walk off our buffet meal from hell. Then we went back to the La Quinta (Spanish for "I just spent $46 on stupid redneck shirts for my husband. What was I thinking?")
My boys hanging out after all that shopping. Bless their hearts, those two.
La Quinta - Spanish for "Quit dragging me all over town, woman. I'd rather just lie here with my spit cup watching Jumanji with the kids."
Sunday morning we were forced to check out of the La Quinta (Spanish for "I must get out of here now because I'm not used to not having a recliner to sit my butt in.") before 10 because Paul was pacing like a dang mountain lion at a wildlife museum. Not much opens before noon on a Sunday, but we managed to find a flea market where Abby bought yet more Babysitter's Club books, Sam found Matilda and Muppet Treasure Island on VHS and the girls and I hit the jackpot on large, dangly, sparkly earrings which we now cannot find. (La Quinta - Spanish for "I think my husband accidently threw away my new large, dangly, sparkly earrings.")
We hit the mall and were the first ones through the door at Build a Bear Workshop. Sam left with Bobo the Monkey Pirate, Abby left with Miley wearing a High School Musical t-shirt and a kicky new jean skirt and Kady left with Hannah sporting a TinkerBell ensemble. I've had to put a moratorium on buildling any more critters. The clothes are expensive enough for six of 'em.
We managed to kill enough time there that we got to the Discovery Center exactly when it opened and were the first ones through the door there, too.
I *heart* the Discovery Center.
We had visited the Lynn Meadows Discovery Center when we went to Mississippi in 2004 and fell in love with the idea of a museum just for kids. We had no idea there was one as close as Springfield.
Abby and Sam dug for dinosaur bones as soon as we got there. The place was so clean and neat and within 5 minutes of us walking in, my children had managed to unearth a dinosaur and fling fake dirt pretty much everywhere.
Shocking!
Even more shocking!
I could not resist playing with the "pixel wall."
Tater said I should be ashamed for making my kids turn all those blocks to yellow just so I could write my name in large, pixelized graffiti.
This is from an exhibit called "The Bacteria Cafeteria" which was enough to make my OCD kick into overdrive and I literally made the entire family GermX their hands right there on the spot.
This litle girl in the picture had Streptococcus.
Shudder.
Poor little dummy had a broken leg.
The dummy, not my son.
The dummy, by the way, had a heartbeat. That was creepy.
Took us forever to drag the kids away from playing doctor. They'd have stayed there with that dummy all day if we hadn't lured them away with puppets.
Pooh and the dinosaur were saving the town from the evil fabric praying mantis.
Paul had quite a bit of fun shopping in Kady's Market, though he'd never admit it.
It took us nearly as long to drag them away from the TV studio as it did from playing with that dummy.
They did some amazing reporting about a bank robber who punched "a dude" in the jaw. While their style may be raw and unpolished, they were still cute as all get out.
Isn't that awesome?? They look like real reporters! Well, although I've never seen a reporter with a broken arm on camera....
I had to drag Kady away from her grocery store to come pose for this shot. She kept saying, "But I don't WANNA do da wevver, Momma!"
At this exhibit, they made airplanes and then...
... launched them to see how far they'd fly.
That kept the four of them busy for 30 minutes.
See what happens when you break your arm in this family? We make you run the hamster wheel.
'At'll learn 'im.
I think they were building dams. Not sure. I'd been playing with the thermal camera and pulleys for half an hour.
We got into Springfield around 4:30, found a room at a La Quinta (Spanish for "freakin' awesome motel - and so friendly!) then went to the Wonders of Wildlife museum at Bass Pro Shop.
It's no window snake, that's for sure.
Freaks, my children. Climbing all over large fiberglass snakes like that. Freaks, I say.
This is the net bridge that reduced Kady to tears. She was stuck right in the middle of that thing, shrieking like a banshee, scared out of her mind. We were trying to coax her through, telling her that if she'd get out she wouldn't be scared anymore, but obviously that thought never occured to her and she continued shrieking.
Do you know how many pictures I took trying to get that dang river otter?
A lot.
However, in every dang picture I took, the waistband of Kady's underwear was shining brightly. She is SO her daddy.
Ah, nothing like fake fishing. With a broken arm.
After the museum, we went to dinner at Ryan's Steakhouse, not my favorite place to eat. It's so large and buffet-y and I just feel like I'm one cow in a stampeding herd of hungry, redneck cows trying to fight my way to the trough. Mmmm. After dinner we went to Bass Pro to walk off our buffet meal from hell. Then we went back to the La Quinta (Spanish for "I just spent $46 on stupid redneck shirts for my husband. What was I thinking?")
My boys hanging out after all that shopping. Bless their hearts, those two.
La Quinta - Spanish for "Quit dragging me all over town, woman. I'd rather just lie here with my spit cup watching Jumanji with the kids."
Sunday morning we were forced to check out of the La Quinta (Spanish for "I must get out of here now because I'm not used to not having a recliner to sit my butt in.") before 10 because Paul was pacing like a dang mountain lion at a wildlife museum. Not much opens before noon on a Sunday, but we managed to find a flea market where Abby bought yet more Babysitter's Club books, Sam found Matilda and Muppet Treasure Island on VHS and the girls and I hit the jackpot on large, dangly, sparkly earrings which we now cannot find. (La Quinta - Spanish for "I think my husband accidently threw away my new large, dangly, sparkly earrings.")
We hit the mall and were the first ones through the door at Build a Bear Workshop. Sam left with Bobo the Monkey Pirate, Abby left with Miley wearing a High School Musical t-shirt and a kicky new jean skirt and Kady left with Hannah sporting a TinkerBell ensemble. I've had to put a moratorium on buildling any more critters. The clothes are expensive enough for six of 'em.
We managed to kill enough time there that we got to the Discovery Center exactly when it opened and were the first ones through the door there, too.
I *heart* the Discovery Center.
We had visited the Lynn Meadows Discovery Center when we went to Mississippi in 2004 and fell in love with the idea of a museum just for kids. We had no idea there was one as close as Springfield.
Abby and Sam dug for dinosaur bones as soon as we got there. The place was so clean and neat and within 5 minutes of us walking in, my children had managed to unearth a dinosaur and fling fake dirt pretty much everywhere.
Shocking!
Even more shocking!
I could not resist playing with the "pixel wall."
Tater said I should be ashamed for making my kids turn all those blocks to yellow just so I could write my name in large, pixelized graffiti.
This is from an exhibit called "The Bacteria Cafeteria" which was enough to make my OCD kick into overdrive and I literally made the entire family GermX their hands right there on the spot.
This litle girl in the picture had Streptococcus.
Shudder.
Poor little dummy had a broken leg.
The dummy, not my son.
The dummy, by the way, had a heartbeat. That was creepy.
Took us forever to drag the kids away from playing doctor. They'd have stayed there with that dummy all day if we hadn't lured them away with puppets.
Pooh and the dinosaur were saving the town from the evil fabric praying mantis.
Paul had quite a bit of fun shopping in Kady's Market, though he'd never admit it.
It took us nearly as long to drag them away from the TV studio as it did from playing with that dummy.
They did some amazing reporting about a bank robber who punched "a dude" in the jaw. While their style may be raw and unpolished, they were still cute as all get out.
Isn't that awesome?? They look like real reporters! Well, although I've never seen a reporter with a broken arm on camera....
I had to drag Kady away from her grocery store to come pose for this shot. She kept saying, "But I don't WANNA do da wevver, Momma!"
At this exhibit, they made airplanes and then...
... launched them to see how far they'd fly.
That kept the four of them busy for 30 minutes.
See what happens when you break your arm in this family? We make you run the hamster wheel.
'At'll learn 'im.
I think they were building dams. Not sure. I'd been playing with the thermal camera and pulleys for half an hour.
When we left the Discovery Center we went to Incredible Pizza for some incredible pizza. Duh. That successfully wore them the rest of the way out and they were quiet the whole ride home, sitting in the backseat in little exhausated dazes.
Ah, vacation.
Blame it on Harry Potter
While the computer has been unplugged due to the threat of storms, I technically could've gotten out here and blogged had I not been completely engrossed in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. (I was like this with the other six books, too. In fact, Tater couldn't believe it took me more than 48 hours to read this one. That's usually all it takes.) In my defense, I've worked a couple of days and took a family vacation AND got a horrifically violent stomach virus that thankfully didn't last longer than 12 hours. (During those 12 hours, though, I thought I was gonna have to die to get better. I'm not a puker and I puked. A lot. A very lot.)
I'm back now, though and as soon as I get them onto the laptop I will share pictures from our weekend jaunt to Springfield, MO, the only city I would consider moving to. Or ending my sentences with prepositions in.
By the way, I SO cried virtually the entire last three chapters of Deathly Hallows. Not just a tear here and there, but sobs and hiccuping and snot. I need a life.
I'm back now, though and as soon as I get them onto the laptop I will share pictures from our weekend jaunt to Springfield, MO, the only city I would consider moving to. Or ending my sentences with prepositions in.
By the way, I SO cried virtually the entire last three chapters of Deathly Hallows. Not just a tear here and there, but sobs and hiccuping and snot. I need a life.
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'Pert Near Five Years
It's been nearly five years since my last post, and even that was a repost from my newspaper column. I think you can attribute it to wri...
