Put on your Okie pants

It's that time again!

It's time for the 2007 Okie Blogger Awards!

I must use lots of exclamation points when I talk about this!

If you're an Okie and have an Oklahoma blog that you've updated in the last 60 days, then you, my friend, are capable of nominating! Take a moment or two to nominate your favorite Okie bloggers. You don't have to nominate in every category, a blog can be nominated in more than one category, it's good for the environment - and good for you, too! Four out of five dentists would nominate Okie blogs to their patients who read blogs. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $100. Do go nominate your favorite Okie blogs. Do not fold, spindle or mutilate. Just nominate. Git r done.

Oh yeah, I'm full of 'em tonight. Or full of it tonight. Either way, nominations are open until September 8th.

Why I love my friend Tammy so much

"I'm tellin' you, this job might be a good thing. In the last two weeks I've lost four pounds!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I don't have time to eat anymore! I work through the noon hour and by the time I get home and get busy, I look up and it's time to make dinner! I go most days without eating anything until dinnertime. I know it won't last, I'll eventually make time to eat, but who knew I'd lose four pounds just by working?"

"Well, let me just say - I can tell."

"Huh?"

"Just in talking to you on the phone here, I can tell. I can tell that you've lost four pounds and girl, you look good!"

"Have I told you lately just how much I love you?"

My first day of school didn't involve a nap

Today was the first day of classes and nowhere on my schedule was time for a nap with my pink towels. Kollij isn't near as much fun as Kindergarten. I also didn't get to color a whole boatload of color sheets about the letter L.

Last Wednesday as soon as I left work I went straight to the college campus. First stop, the business office to make sure my FinAid was in order, then downstairs to campus police to get my parking sticker (which is still in my purse...must remember to get that out....) and then allllll the way across campus to the bookstore. Now, keep in mind that last Wednesday was I think the hottest day in history. It was about 106 with a heat index of 451.3. And I was wearing a light tan shirt.

Now, I am normally not a sweater. Not a sweater as in something wool your gramma knits, but I mean, I just don't really sweat a lot. I just don't. But when it is THAT hot outside, everyone sweats. I don't care who you are, how much of a diva you are or how awesome you think you are in your shorty shorts with your belly button hanging out and your tramp stamp showing right above your buttcrack, sweetie, you sweat.

Just as I got in the line for FinAid and scholarships, something went wrong with the checkout computers and the gal had to go fix it. Now, I have worked with electronics and I know that when you are the busiest and the most harried, that is precisely when things will break down, screw up and cause you to want to gouge your eyes out with unsharpened pencils. Well, I started sweating while I waited in that line and this is where the light tan shirt comes into play.

I sweat right through my shirt and suddenly became the fat, sweaty, old lady in the midst of all of those annoying, perky 18 year olds. I had never wanted a fan so badly in my life. The gal behind me commented on it being a tad warm in the building and I nodded in agreement. She looked me up and down and said, "Uhm, yeah. You've kind of like, sweated through your shirt there, doll." Great. Thanks for noticing and pointing it out. I wasn't quite uncomfortable enough. You're a gem, there sweetie.

Finally the computer quit being posessed and I got my scholarship paper and my FinAid paper and headed to the book line. The kid behind the counter did NOT want to be there, did not want to wait on the sweaty old lady and made sure I knew his disdain for working there, living life and waiting on sweaty old non-traditional students. He handed me my Macro book, my Computers book and my the Algebra packet (supposedly) containing my $120 password. I said, "Where's my Lit book?" He sighed dramatically (I'm betting he's a Theatre major) and said, "There is no book for Lit." Now, maybe it's just me, but HELLO, it's LITERATURE. It kind of seems like there should be, oh I dunno, a BOOK FOR THAT. No, he insisted there wasn't. I questioned him again and he assured me there was no book and I'd have to find out when I logged onto the website on Monday just why there was no book.

Well, I logged onto the website this afternoon and whaddaya know.....I need a BOOK for the class. I even called the bookstore to double check and yep, I need a BOOK for the class. And then, when I tried to log onto the algebra class, the $120 temporary password is missing from my packet.

Tomorrow's only supposed to be 95', but I'm definitely not wearing a light colored shirt. I'm also hoping I'll wake up skinny with no gray hair and heck, while I'm dreaming, maybe I'll be a cheerleader, too.

Wisdom at the dinner table

This morning I took the kids to school because I had to hand-deliver Kady's inhaler along with secret government documents and a stool sample from everyone in the household. Okay, so maybe it was just a note from her doctor and a note from me, but I felt like I was appearing for the Spanish Inquistition. Darn that asthma.

I kind of knew what was on the schedule at work and it mostly involved further developing the meaningful relationship I have with the copy machine, so I decided to wear my humongous chunk flip-flops that aren't all that comfortable, but so durn cute. Along with the cute sandals I wore white capris. I *heart* my white capris. They're comfortable and Paul actually complimented me once when I had them on, so I wear them every chance I get.

I got both girls ready for school (Thank God for that boy - that flat top haircut is the best thing since sliced bread, along with a wardrobe consisting entirely of jeanshorts and t-shirts), got myself ready and we headed for the school, coffee mug and inhaler in hand. I poured the coffee just before we walked out the door, knowing it would be drinkable by the time I headed for work.

I delivered the children, the notes and the inhaler, then got back in the van to go to work. I was mere feet onto the highway when I went for that first drink of coffee and poured half the mug down the front of me. Apparently the lid wasn't screwed on all the way and well, it leaked. Hey, at least it wasn't scalding hot or tonight I'd be minus one breast and a thigh, kind of like a bucket from KFC at a church picnic.

Fortunately I was running way early for work and had time to go back home and change and the rest of the morning went off without a hitch, even if I didn't get to wear my chunky sandals. I still looked kickin' in my sparkly black flip-flops that Cousin Stacey sent me awhile back.

At the dinner table tonight I was telling my woeful tale. When I finished, just as Paul was opening his mouth to, more than likely, make a smartass remark, Kady said, "And dat's why you shouldn't drink and drive!"

The first day of school - only 4 days later

Okay, so I have really good excuses.

See, Wednesday night, the first actual day of school was Part I of the So You Think You Can Dance season finale and I was way busy with that. Plus, I was pretty busy after that, rocking my little girl to sleep.

And then Thursday was Part II of the finale and I had to maintain my station in the recliner to make double sure that my girl Sabra won. It's a good thing she did, too, because I was gonna whup someone if she hadn't.

And then Friday night....well, Friday night was the world premiere of High School Musical 2 and the kids and I had a date with Tater and the tots because we don't get Disney on our "family friendly" programming package with DishNetwork, go figure. Then after HSM2, of course, we hung around for Phineas and Ferb and the almighty, most wonderfullest, amazingest teenager we all know and love, HANNAH MONTANA!! I *heart* Hannah Montana.

Then last night I got really busy removing staples in a huge pile of papers that needed to be shredded. It seems that somewhere around 1997, the same year we got a credit card, we used our good credit to buy a stapler and I found it absolutely imperative that I staple every stinkin' piece of paper that I filed for the next five years. Somewhere around 2002 the stapling stopped. Note that was also when I had a third child who was a toddler. Coincidence? I think not.

Anyway, so now it's Sunday and I am now ready to post about the kids's first day of school.

Here's my little Kindergartener - she was up before 5am. Talk about ready for school!

Abby showing off her patented snarl that seems to be part of the 5th grade package. I don't remember buying attitude when I picked up the three boxes of Kleenex and notebook paper.

The big, bad schoolbus.

But I didn't cry here.

Nope. I was strong here.

Sam having milk for breakfast. The didn't have the kind of cereal he liked and heaven forbid he branch out and *gasp* try something new. Fortunately, he had eaten at home in anticipation of them not having "anything good."

Up to this point, I did good. I hadn't shed one single tear all morning. Heck, I didn't have time - getting Paul off to work, the girls ready for school and me ready for work was time-consuming and I didn't have time to think much less cry. But once the bell rang and we left the cafeteria...

There she sat at her spot at her table with her name on it and a color paper just waiting to be colored and her very own name on her very own nametag and a chair with books and a whole class full of kids and I was snapping pictures right and left and doing okay..... until she put down her crayon, walked over to me, hugged me around the hips, looked up at me, waved and said, "Okay, bye now."

That's when the tears started. I knew that was her way of saying, "Okay, Mom. I'm cool here. Now, you go out and do your own thing because I have this Kindergarten thing licked." A mom I had talked to the day before saw the tears threatening to spill and said, "You're okay. You're doing good. Just take a deep breath." I took a deep breath and walked out into the hall at the exact moment Queen Tammy was walking out of the other Kindergarten classroom and she saw me melting down. She grabbed me and hugged me and I cried on her shoulder. I didn't realize it, but she was moving me toward the door while I cried and she managed to get me outside without me clawing the door or throwing myself into the cubbies and insisting that I stay for the day. I cried all the way to my car, but managed to get myself calmed down pretty quickly after that. By the time I got to work I was fine and stayed incredibly busy the entire day, so I didn't have time to sit and worry if she was okay. I knew she was anyway.

Mom and Uncle David came out to the house to meet the bus with me. Mom was kind of hurt that Abby was snarly and hateful, but I assured her that was just how Abby gets when she's overwhelmed. At least I hope that's why she was snarly and hateful and this isn't going to become a real habit. I'd hate to have to kill her before she reached Middle School.

Of course, Mom got the most information out of Kady who was more than ecstatic to tell us about her day. Mom asked if she'd had rest time and Kady nodded her head vigorously and said, "Oh yes! I used my pink towels!" Mom asked, "Did you just rest or did you sleep?" Kady replied, "Oh, I sleeped! And when Mrs. Reece turned on the light, I still sleeped and when I finally waked up, everyone was staring at me!"

And there are my little chickadees running in the 104' heat toward the grape kool-ade and Teddy Grahams that were awaiting them inside the air conditioning.

Because I am still the coolest adult they know.

A perfect way to end the day

All of the tears I shed this morning and the fact that I missed her so incredibly all day long disappeared as I rocked my baby girl to sleep tonight.

She doesn't fit in the crook of one arm anymore - she's a far cry from the just over 6 pounds she was when she was a newborn and we marveled at how a person could be so tiny. Tonight she was all arms and legs as she curled up in my lap. Her little toes with chipped purple polish on her nails rubbed against my leg as I rocked her and her woobie was wrapped around one hand. I realized as she was sprawled across me and the chair that her shiny turquoise monkey pajamas that were once her big sister's are getting too small. I knew she was growing, but when did she get this big?

Even though she was sound asleep, sleeping the exhausted sleep of a 5 year old after her first day of Kindergarten, she was still hiccupping after a complete and total meltdown from stubbing her toe not once but twice in a matter of about three minutes. Her newly bobbed hair was messy and in her face and as I smoothed it back I noticed just how many freckles she has after a summer of swimming. Everyone says she looks like me now, but all I see when I look at her is the adorable, self-assured little big girl who only recently dropped the title of "Kady Princess" and is now simply "Kady. Wif a D."

Da hizzouse is openizzle

I'm much better at redneckspeak, which involves words like "purty" and "agin" and "y'ontoo," so I may have hizzouse and openizzle wrong, but I tried.

Tonight was Open House at the kids' school.

We saw Sam's teacher first. She seems oh so very young, but I really like her. Sam picked out a desk and I made sure it was nowhere this little boy that I have absolutely nothing against personally, but I know how the two of them are when they are together. Then lo and behold, Sam saw him on the hall and the kid had picked out a desk next to Sam. I'm hoping she'll remember I mentioned the fact I think that's a baaaaaad idea.

Next we saw Ab's teacher. She seems like she's really going to get these kids ready for middle school (gasp!) and she seems like she's really going to teach them some valuable organizational skillz. And Abby needs a lot of those. A lot. 5th grade does a lot of community service and they have a lot of opportunities, depending on what they are interested in. The most exciting news was that her class got Kady's class for Book Buddies, meaning Abby's class will get to read to Kady's class once a week. They were both really excited.

Then it was off to Kindergarten and you will all be happy to know that I didn't shed one tear tonight. Yay me. Jill and Chandler were already in the classroom by the time we got there and Jill, Paul and I visited with The Most Wonderful Kindergarten Teacher By Default If We Can't Have Cousin Courtney. I'm telling you, this woman is amazing. Kady was pretty aloof and after briefly checking out the room, finding her cubby and effectively pretending that none of us existed, she busied herself with reading the books that were stuffed in the pouch on the back of her chair. She plays aloof very well and as Tater said when she was a baby, you have never been ignored until you've been ignored by Kady.

A brief overview:

*I got to spend the entire day with my kids and my niece and nephew and they were absolutely precious all day. Today was awesome - they swam, we hit Dollar Tree for lots of incredibly cheap-ass junk that none of them really needed, but I once again proved that I am the coolest adult they know, we got frozen custard and sang a lot of SpongeBob in the van while we ran our errands.
*Sam got his cast off and the x-ray shows his arm to be completely healed! He has to take it easy for the next week, but after that, he's good to go. Praise the Lord! No football this year and he was pretty disappointed, but after I explained that it would be better to take it easy now and build up his arm strength for basketball he was less disappointed. And took back the statement "You never let me do ANYthing!"
*All of their incredibly expensive school supplies are stowed safely in their classrooms, Sam's in the only Lane Bryant sack. I tried to get him to use a Disney World or Wal*Mart sack, but he wanted that dang Lane Bryant sack. For all he knows, Lane Bryant is a NBA player, NASCAR driver or astronaut.
*I'm still borderline miffed that Sam didn't get his indian school supplies even though the girls did. I mean, I understand why, it was explained to me, but I'm still almost miffed. I can't help it the Cherokees are running a year out on getting cards issued.
*Kady's supply fee has been paid by her father so that's ten more bucks I have to blow on sweet tea at McDonald's this week.
*Abby was so nervous at Open House she nearly chewed the ribbon off of the front of her blouse. And we didn't see *Chance* and I didn't get to embarrass her to death by saying, "Chance and Abby sittin' in a tree..."
*Clothes are laid out for tomorrow - Sam realllllly wanted to wear a black shirt, but I talked him into something lighter and not so apt to make him spontaneously combust. Abby is wearing her new shoes and is so stoked about that she could literally wear rags tomorrow as long as she can wear those stupid new shoes. Which are girl shoes, I should add, so yay for that. Kady, of course, picked out a dress. And a feather boa.
*The first batch of papers and forms are signed and in Sam's backpack. My hand is sore from having to sign my name so many times and I have two more kids to go.
*I have bitten my bottom lip until it's sore because I have so many things on my mind.
*I need to write a note to call Kady's doctor to get an inhaler for her to keep at school.
*Water bottles are in the fridge, chilling in anticipation of the hot bus ride at 7:15. Yes, it really will already be hot at 7:15. Have I mentioned I hate summer?
*I have checked the batteries and put in an empty memory card in the camera. There will be much photographic evidence of tomorrow morning's events.
*I have my own back-to-school paperwork set out and ready to go so I can go get my student ID, parking permit and books tomorrow after work. Thank the Lord for that book scholarship this semester!
*I need to go to sleep and get plenty of rest so I can bawl my freakin' head off tomorrow.

Little bit of this, little bit of that

Today when I walked through my front door after work it was 1:49PM and 103.6 degrees outside. The heat index was somewhere around 451.2' F which is why all of the McDonald's and Sonic sacks in my van were on fire. Btw, if you haven't read the book Fahrenheit 451, you should. Seriously. One of the best books ever.

Because of this insane hellish heat, my cursed fat foot looks like someone has pumped it up with a bicycle pump. It's not pretty, it's not comfortable and I want winter. And snow.

I wore my leather flipflops to work today and that was not pretty. I wanted to wear my sneaks, but they didn't go with my capris that are actually Bermuda shorts, but I can wear them as capris because I have freakishly short legs and wow, I'm painting such a picture of myself, it's a good thing I'm not single.

Anyway, to summarize: foot fat, want winter, sandals ugly.

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I finally got around to rearranging Ab's room yesterday and in the process, gave her my old CD boombox. Do they still call 'em boomboxes? Anyway, the child has the mack daddy of karaoke machines, but it doesn't have a radio and she really wanted a radio.

So now she spends every waking moment listening to the radio. She gives me a weather report on the half hour and knows our local news better than the anchors.

I think it's absolutely adorable how happy a radio has made my child. I remember when I got my first "jambox" back in the 80's......ah memories.

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We went to church yesterday and no one was struck by lightning. It was actually wonderful. Like church is supposed to be. Here's how wonderful it was - we even went to eat with some of them after the service.

I didn't call anyone a dang Baptist, I didn't cuss once and no one judged my foot tattoo.

These are like no other Baptists I've ever known. I kind of like them.

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Mom and I took the kids to see Hairspray Friday night. Still the most awesome movie ever. I looked for the soundtrack at Wal*Mart and they are out and have been out for a week. The need for this soundtrack may warrant a trip across the state line. I need it that badly.

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My husband is redeeming himself for buying me a car I can't drive and in the last two evenings he has: hung up a bulletin/dry erase board in the entryway, hung up a shelf with five little pegs for the five little children that will get off the bus at my house every day, hung up the Diva bulletin board that Cousin Stacey got me for my birthday, mounted my new mega super surge protector to the wall by my computer desk so I can plug the laptop into an outlet that doesn't leave the cord strung across the office where I invariably trip over it, removed a horrifically ugly hanging lamp that came with the house and I have hated for 6 years and it seems he has forgiven me for making fun of his 80's car.

I love it when I get things done. There's just this air of done-ness about it.

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Sam's cast comes off tomorrow. Send good thoughts his way that the x-ray shows his arm healed and that he won't have to get it re-cast. There will be gnashing of teeth, wailing, whining and more than a few tears. Sam will probably be upset, too.

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Tomorrow night is Open House at the kids' school. The tears will begin falling from my face around 5 tomorrow night and will not stop until, oh...... let's see, she graduates in 2020......

No one at work could believe it when I said I'd be at work that day. I have to - otherwise I will sit here at home and cry and worry and worry and cry and worry.

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Work is going fabulously. I love it. Love it.

Today was busy and hectic and more than one time during the morning two or more people asked me to do something at the same time. It's nice to be needed and all, but it was crazy. The other aide position is now open and I hope they hire someone soon. There is too much for one person to do in four hours a day. Still, I love the work and can't wait to really get into things now that I'll be there every day.

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Got confirmation of my Financial Aid. Kollij is a go once more. Yay.

I thought I was ready, but now I'm getting nervous. Not near as nervous as I was last semester, but still nervous.

Today one of the caseworkers - who is the mother of a guy I graduated high school with - asked me how I liked doing all of my classes online. I told her I loved it and she asked if I felt like I was missing out on something. I shook my head no. She said, "Oh, I just loved the camaraderie and the questions and the interacting with people in the classroom." I said, "Okay, I've kind of changed since you knew me back when I was in high school. I don't like people now. The fewer I have to interact with, the better." It was hilarious because she just wasn't sure if I was serious or not.

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Come on now, sing it with me, everyone! Oh yes we need a little Christmas, right this very minute....

I hate summer.

A night on the town ain't what it used to be

We went out with The Cousins Saturday night. There were supposed to be two more cousins with us but they're all getting ready for this new baby they're incubatin' and seem to think finishing their house is more important than hanging out with the kinfolk. I remember those days, the nesting and the excitement. They're so young and cute and I'm so old and jaded.

When we were all kids, teenagers actually, Cousins Courtney and Benn came into the family and because we lived next door to each other we hung out together a lot. We played board games, we jumped on the trampoline (Well, they did, I believed myself to be above such shenanigans) and when I had gas in the car, we went on what we called Cousinly Bonding expeditions. Sometimes it was nothing more than driving around, sometimes we went to the park to act like juvenile dorks, and all the time it was fun and wonderful and I *heart* my cousins.

Now, Paul and I are the old fogies of The Cousins, him being 44 and me being 34. Actually I think Chad is 34, too, but he acts way younger than me. Having kids will age a woman. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Anyway, dinner was great, we stayed at the restaurant for over 2 hours, visiting and laughing and catching up. The band we were going to see didn't start till 9 so we went to Buffalo Run to kill some time. Courtney and Chad announced they were going home and we begged, pleaded and all but grovelled that they go with us to the bar. They relented, but said they had to go home to switch cars. Tater had to go see a man about a horse in the casino, so Paul and I headed for the bar.

This bar is a real high class place and by "high class" I mean, this place is a dive. It was flooded and just recently reopened. And it is apparent that they didn't want to displace the gazillion mosquitoes that have taken up residence INSIDE the bar. We waited in the parking lot for the others to show up because I just knew that I was going to feel fat the second I stepped through the door. Man, was I right. Most of the time I am comfortable with who I am, but not in a crowd of drunk, rowdy single people. Then I am just the old married lady who has let herself go. When we picked up the kids at Mom's I said, "If I ever, God forbid, find myself single I will rot inside my house rather than go out and do the bar scene." And I mean that. I am strong, but I aint' that strong.

The gal taking money at the door looked stoned out of her mind. There were about 10 people inside the place when we got there, so we had our pick of tables and Tater got us one right up the band's hoohahs. Now, normally this would be a good thing, except this meant that all the people sitting behind us got to just see my gigantic booty hanging uncomfortably off of my barstool all night long. Also, my legs are just the wrong length to sit comfortably on a barstool. They don't perch well on the lowest rung because my legs are a bit too short, but I'm too chunky to perch them up on the higher rung. So I instead let my legs dangle. Which in turn made my feet swell.

See? I'm old. Some friends of Tater's showed up later and Kara leaned over and asked if I was having fun. I shouted back, "Not really. My pacemaker is acting up, I've had to turn my hearing aid down twice, my feet are swelling and these varicose veins will be the death of me yet!" She nearly fell off her barstool laughing at my old self. She's all of like 20. She thinks I'm funny and I think she'll someday be old like me and I think that's funny.

It's no secret that I am quite fond of curse words, the f-bomb in particular. I like me some good expletives, but I guess I was just feeling particularly out-of-touch Saturday night. When the chorus of one song said something about waiting for a ride in a bar on a hill and something about how he "crashed her effing car" and walked away from that piece of sh*t or something like that, I guess I was making a face because Cousin Courtney shouted over the din of drunk people singing, "Priceless! The look on your face is PRICELESS!" I may have looked a bit puckered.

The music was so loud, as were the drunks surrounding us, so most conversation was yelled at the other person, unless you wanted to lean your head down so they could shout a little quieter instead. Or you resorted to hand signs. Tater was trying to tell me something and I couldn't make anything out, I didn't understand a thing she was trying to get across, so I did the only sign I could think of at the time - Jesus. Kara nearly fell off her barstool again. So did Tater. I did the sign for Jesus all over the table, then made the sign of the cross for good measure, then bid them all a good night.

Leave 'em laughing, I always say. Well, that's what I say when I'm not complaining about my gout, heartburn and bunions.

'Cause you're motorin'

One evening last week, Paul went to visit his brother to see about a tractor (which is not the same as seeing a man about a horse) and in the course of that visit, Paul traded his little truck for a car.

Now, here is the icing on the Come to Jesus cake - He bought the car "for me." Read on and you'll understand why "for me" is in quotes.

It is quite well known that my van is dying a slow and painful death. She's been a good van and I still love her, but I know her days are numbered and then when God calls her home, the Astro will be no more. We speak quite often about selling the boat, the little truck and the Astro so we can get a newer van that I can drive without having a laying on of hands before I leave the driveway. In fact, Paul is so serious about this that he has, after 2 years of me griping at him, finally replaced the rotten spots in the deck of the boat and as soon as Mamacita moves her kittens out of the boat, it's ready to sell. Or sail. Har.

Anyway, he came in from his brother's and said, "Hey, guess what! I traded that little truck for you a new car!" Okay, strike one, bucko - I have made it amply clear that I must have a van. Not only because we have three children and one back seat is not enough for three children, but also because I have a niece and nephew that I like to take places as well and Tater wouldn't appreciate it if they had to ride in the trunk. Plus, if Mom has all three kids, she takes my van so she can go places with them. So I held my tongue (Not literally. That's kind of gross.) and said, "Oh, wow. What kind of car?" He was grinnin' like a possum when he replied, "A Cavalier!"

My first car was a Cavalier. A gold 1986 Chevy Cavalier. A small car, the Cavalier. My gold car was a good car in her time, but didn't they stop manufacturing the Cavalier like, oh a century ago? Or at least 1986? That's what I thought, but nope, turns out they were still making them in 1989.

So I said, "Well, hmh. A Cavalier, eh? Interesting." It wasn't really interesting, but I was trying to be nice. It was obvious he was proud.

"Oh yeah, it's a pretty little car." Of course, he didn't say "pretty," he said, "purty." His redneckspeak is normally endearing, but it wasn't that night for some reason. And I know darn good and well that his idea of "purty" and my idea of "pretty" are two very different things.

Then, proudly he said, "It gets great gas mileage. Yeah, and it's a standard, too!"

That was when I nearly broke my jaw because I was gritting my teeth so hard. I didn't say anything at first. Just stood there with a dish towel in my hand, staring at him in disbelief.

"A standard? Paul, uhm....I can't drive a standard. And you know that."

"You can't? I thought you drove my little Toyota back when we were first married. Didn't you?"

"Uhm, yeah, if you'll think real hard, you'll also remember that the ONE TIME I drove it in town I killed it in the middle of a busy intersection and when I finally got it going again I drove it straight home and told you I'd never drive it again. And I didn't."

"Oh. Well, then I guess I'll drive your car then."

So I threw the dishtowel at him and said, "You didn't buy that car for me and honey, that's really okay that you didn't buy the car for me. But you didn't have to pretend that you bought it for me. It's okay that you selfishly bought a car for yourself when you know that I NEED A NEW VAN WAY MORE THAN YOU NEED A STUPID CAR!" I was having a total, pure, unadulterated, certifiable selfish moment.

I refused to go out and even look at it because I was pretty miffed. But ya know, I got over it. We haven't argued in a long time and I certainly wasn't going to let a stupid car cause us to have a big ugly fight.

Then Saturday night we had plans to go out with Tater, Cousin Courtney and Chad for dinner. When we go out we almost always take the big truck because he doesn't like driving the Astro and I don't like driving at night. But I walked outside in my white capris to find the kids standing beside the new car while their daddy put the boosters in the backseat.

Things didn't start out good when Sam said, "Daddy, how do I get in?" For some reason that really teed Paul off. I explained that not once in their lives had they gotten into the backseat of a two-door car. They didn't know the seats lean forward, but once I showed them they thought it was awesome. So then they all three piled in that incredibly small backseat to find that two boosters and a third child don't fit so comfortably and then there was whining and tattling and complaining. So Paul got more peeved.

Then when I kind of fell/folded myself into the front seat I got dust all over the back of my white capris and had the audacity to say, "Dangit! My white pants!" That when he got really mad. So I bit my lip to keep from laughing at him acting like such a jerk and we were all quiet until at least the end of the driveway and then I began teasing him in earnest.

I mean, I really let him have it. I ribbed him about his new "pimpmobile," I said, "The 80's called - they want their car back," I asked him if he'd go back home so I could tease my bangs up higher and spray on another coat of Aqua Net, I asked when he was going to grow a mullet and start wearing tight leg jeans, I asked if he wanted a large bird or something painted on the hood for his Christmas present this year.....I mean, I was ruthless. He didn't say much. And I just kept on.

But it was when I asked, "What year is this car?" that things started getting ugly. He said it was a '98. I said, "No....it can't be. My van is a '98 and the interior is sleeker. The corners are more rounded. No, this car is from the 80's for sure." He was positive it was a '98 and told me to get the title out of the glove box to prove it.

Chevrolet Cavalier Z24 - 19EIGHTY freakin'NINE. My husband is dyslexic. And lost in the 80's.

I laughed so hard I thought I was going to have a stroke. I laughed because he was SO mad that I would dare to insinuate he had traded a '98 Dodge Dakota pickup for an '89 Cavalier Z24 and got the raw end of a deal. How dare I question the fact that his brother essentially uhm....you know.

Then he said he'd go home in his 80's car and I could walk. And to be honest, it was hot and I wasn't up for it. So I shut my mouth.

When everyone got to the restaurant for dinner the comment was made that they'd been driving around for 20 minutes because they didn't see our truck or van in the parking lot and I was trying to give everyone the high sign to ixnay on the arcay because he was issedpay at his ifeway. You know, the wife with big bangs and Night Ranger in the cassette player.