You are the craziest kid I know... but I have to love ya.
That's what aunties do.
And yes Cole, I know the picture is from Christmas 2005...
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
I can think of worse…
Our company had some meetings scheduled in Las Vegas for Thursday and Friday. Unfortunately I was chosen to attend.
Riiiight.
Like it’s ever ‘unfortunate’ to be ‘forced’ to work in Vegas.
Even if you never make it through The Strip, the food in that whole city is amazing. And, in case you missed it… I really, really, really, really, really like food.
Well, that and I like playing the nickel slots in the airport until about the 5th time they page my name to ‘PLEASE GET ON THE PLANE!’.
I was to fly up Thursday morning, attend meetings, stay over Thursday night, attend more meetings, and fly home late Friday.
Well, Friday’s meetings were rescheduled. ‘Unfortunately’ it’s cheaper to leave me there than fly me home a day early.
40 bucks on red?
I’m packing a bikini and kicking it poolside with a margarita on the Mandalay Beach.
Riiiight.
Like it’s ever ‘unfortunate’ to be ‘forced’ to work in Vegas.
Even if you never make it through The Strip, the food in that whole city is amazing. And, in case you missed it… I really, really, really, really, really like food.
Well, that and I like playing the nickel slots in the airport until about the 5th time they page my name to ‘PLEASE GET ON THE PLANE!’.
I was to fly up Thursday morning, attend meetings, stay over Thursday night, attend more meetings, and fly home late Friday.
Well, Friday’s meetings were rescheduled. ‘Unfortunately’ it’s cheaper to leave me there than fly me home a day early.
40 bucks on red?
I’m packing a bikini and kicking it poolside with a margarita on the Mandalay Beach.
Monday, January 21, 2008
The weekend…
It’s been a rough couple of weeks so Chris decided to take me on a date. Anywhere I wanted for dinner and any movie I wanted to see.
Not necessarily a smart decision based on the high volume of over the top chick flicks at the theater.
I wasn’t much in the mood for a crowd so we stopped for a high class dinner at Hilberto’s and went to see 'Juno' (I didn’t want to abuse Chris’ offer, lest he never offer again).
Despite the obvious signs of a potentially bad movie, i.e. an audience full of teenagers and the unhappy faces on guys who looked like they were dragged to the theater, the movie was f-a-n-ta-s-t-i-c.
Chris worked on Saturday and unfortunately I lack the ability to laze around without feeling overcome by guilt so I deep cleaned the house.
I scrubbed the toilets, the floors, the baseboards, the windows, the sills, the shower, the sinks, the mirror, the walls, the light fixtures, the toothbrush holders, the door handles… you get it.
As I pulled a load of laundry out of the dryer and walked back into the house, the smell of bleach assaulted my nostrils and I realized something…
The most comforting smell in the world to me isn’t cinnamon, or vanilla, or fresh laundry, or baked pie… it’s harsh cleaning products.
There is something so refreshing and relaxing about it. It puts a skip in my step. It’s the smell of clean. Germ free clean. But don’t get me started on germs because that’s a whole… well… just don’t get me started. I AM the one who did a semester long project on Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and realized… I may have a teeny tiny little problem with it. Whatever.
Someday… a psychologist will make a case study out of me and you'll want my autograph.
I wonder if they make candles that smell like Lysol, Simple Green, or Clorox?
Sunday we mourned two terrible losses. I knew it would come eventually but I thought we had more time together.
The Chargers lost to the Patriots (Does anyone know where I can get a ‘I hate Tom Brady’ bumper sticker?!?!?) and Green Bay lost to… ugh… the Giants.
What a rough day.
I went immediately home and scrubbed the shower with Clorox… again.
Not necessarily a smart decision based on the high volume of over the top chick flicks at the theater.
I wasn’t much in the mood for a crowd so we stopped for a high class dinner at Hilberto’s and went to see 'Juno' (I didn’t want to abuse Chris’ offer, lest he never offer again).
Despite the obvious signs of a potentially bad movie, i.e. an audience full of teenagers and the unhappy faces on guys who looked like they were dragged to the theater, the movie was f-a-n-ta-s-t-i-c.
Chris worked on Saturday and unfortunately I lack the ability to laze around without feeling overcome by guilt so I deep cleaned the house.
I scrubbed the toilets, the floors, the baseboards, the windows, the sills, the shower, the sinks, the mirror, the walls, the light fixtures, the toothbrush holders, the door handles… you get it.
As I pulled a load of laundry out of the dryer and walked back into the house, the smell of bleach assaulted my nostrils and I realized something…
The most comforting smell in the world to me isn’t cinnamon, or vanilla, or fresh laundry, or baked pie… it’s harsh cleaning products.
There is something so refreshing and relaxing about it. It puts a skip in my step. It’s the smell of clean. Germ free clean. But don’t get me started on germs because that’s a whole… well… just don’t get me started. I AM the one who did a semester long project on Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and realized… I may have a teeny tiny little problem with it. Whatever.
Someday… a psychologist will make a case study out of me and you'll want my autograph.
I wonder if they make candles that smell like Lysol, Simple Green, or Clorox?
Sunday we mourned two terrible losses. I knew it would come eventually but I thought we had more time together.
The Chargers lost to the Patriots (Does anyone know where I can get a ‘I hate Tom Brady’ bumper sticker?!?!?) and Green Bay lost to… ugh… the Giants.
What a rough day.
I went immediately home and scrubbed the shower with Clorox… again.
Keira has learned to clap... just in time to cheer for our Chargers.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Flashback Friday…
When John, Mike, and I were 13 and 15, one of my dad’s oh so responsible employees showed us how to build a potato gun.
Because everyone knows the combination of pipe, potatoes, a bottle of WD-40, and a flame tool are landmark in safety and you should share them with teenagers.
We made the biggest potato gun possible and spent our afternoons launching the potatoes into targets… *cough* the pool deck… *cough* the new trees… *cough* the house siding… (sorry ‘bout those dents dad)
On a particularly hot day, John filled the chamber up with Rave hairspray and WD-40. The fumes filled the air as he quickly spun the cap on and pulled out the matches. As soon as he touched the flame to the side, a loud BOOM exploded into our ears. Mike and I looked down to see John on his back, his shoes smoldering and the lawn burst into flames.
He hadn’t spun the cap on tightly and instead of launching the potato, the force rocketed the cap and the flame onto John’s shoed feet.
Responsibly… we laughed hysterically at John.
We laughed so hard, we overlooked the fact that the lawn was still on fire… in the middle of summer. About 60 seconds of laughing at John’s blackened shoes went by before we suddenly became aware that the fire was growing. And then we realized, if mom saw the fire, she’d never let us shoot another potato again.
Mike ran for the hose while John stomped out what he could. It’s not like his shoes could get worse.
Fortunately they got the fire out (hence the reason they are such good firefighters… they started young) but there was still a huge problem…
Now there was a huge black spot of charred lawn directly in front of the screen door that mom surely wouldn’t miss. We couldn’t think of a believable story for the burn spot and we certainly weren’t going to tell the truth sooooo…
We dug out the lawn, tossed it off the back hill so no one would find it, threw on some fresh dirt, then went inside and told mom the dogs had dug a patch of the lawn out and she should be mad at them.
As for John’s shoes? ‘Pssshhh. Mom, that’s a fashion statement. Don’t you know style?!?!’
Why do I believe there is a God? There is NO way I would have survived childhood in the country without Him.
Because everyone knows the combination of pipe, potatoes, a bottle of WD-40, and a flame tool are landmark in safety and you should share them with teenagers.
We made the biggest potato gun possible and spent our afternoons launching the potatoes into targets… *cough* the pool deck… *cough* the new trees… *cough* the house siding… (sorry ‘bout those dents dad)
On a particularly hot day, John filled the chamber up with Rave hairspray and WD-40. The fumes filled the air as he quickly spun the cap on and pulled out the matches. As soon as he touched the flame to the side, a loud BOOM exploded into our ears. Mike and I looked down to see John on his back, his shoes smoldering and the lawn burst into flames.
He hadn’t spun the cap on tightly and instead of launching the potato, the force rocketed the cap and the flame onto John’s shoed feet.
Responsibly… we laughed hysterically at John.
We laughed so hard, we overlooked the fact that the lawn was still on fire… in the middle of summer. About 60 seconds of laughing at John’s blackened shoes went by before we suddenly became aware that the fire was growing. And then we realized, if mom saw the fire, she’d never let us shoot another potato again.
Mike ran for the hose while John stomped out what he could. It’s not like his shoes could get worse.
Fortunately they got the fire out (hence the reason they are such good firefighters… they started young) but there was still a huge problem…
Now there was a huge black spot of charred lawn directly in front of the screen door that mom surely wouldn’t miss. We couldn’t think of a believable story for the burn spot and we certainly weren’t going to tell the truth sooooo…
We dug out the lawn, tossed it off the back hill so no one would find it, threw on some fresh dirt, then went inside and told mom the dogs had dug a patch of the lawn out and she should be mad at them.
As for John’s shoes? ‘Pssshhh. Mom, that’s a fashion statement. Don’t you know style?!?!’
Why do I believe there is a God? There is NO way I would have survived childhood in the country without Him.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
It's days like these that make me wanna cry...
It's houses like these...
http://sandiego.craigslist.org/csd/rfs/536853241.html
...That make my soul cry.
For those not in Sunny Southern Cali, this is a smokin' deal.
I'm suddenly feeling very, very, VERY upside-down.
Oh well.
http://sandiego.craigslist.org/csd/rfs/536853241.html
...That make my soul cry.
For those not in Sunny Southern Cali, this is a smokin' deal.
I'm suddenly feeling very, very, VERY upside-down.
Oh well.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
But I’m alive!!
I went to the dentist today to have two crowns replaced. Don’t be jealous OK?
I’m already deathly afraid of anyone who is legally allowed to drill your teeth out (Um, hello? The horror film ‘The Dentist’ was probably based on a true story!) and today’s experience didn’t make my phobia any less present.
You see, at my ghetto dentist, you would close your eyes to prevent any water being splashed in them. At this new high tech place, they give you huge yellow foggy glasses. The giant all plastic blind old people glasses.
Totally Hot, I know.
Then, my dentist is lovely, but I didn’t appreciate her conversation with the assistant.
‘Doesn’t she have beautiful skin?’ she said while pointing at me.
‘I’d kill for her eyelashes. She should be an actress or something.’ replied the assistant.
‘Her shoes are sooooo cute!’ The dentist said, muffled by her mask.
OK, two huge problems:
1 – Please don’t talk about me like I’m at a funeral parlor and you are preparing me for a viewing. I’m alive… and despite these gi-normous glasses that cover most of my face, my ears are still fully functional. Though, if you give me one more shot of Novocain, I’m not sure how much longer they will work – but trust me, I’m willing to take the risk. Load me up.
2 – I’m on to your little game. You are trying to make me feel better by developing a ‘connection’ from compliments. Let me clarify something for you - you could say I was hotter than Claudia Schiffer and I still wouldn’t like you. It’s not personal; it’s your pain inducing drill.
I survived, but barely.
Does anyone know how many Tylenol you can take just before it becomes toxic but way after it takes the pain away?
I’m already deathly afraid of anyone who is legally allowed to drill your teeth out (Um, hello? The horror film ‘The Dentist’ was probably based on a true story!) and today’s experience didn’t make my phobia any less present.
You see, at my ghetto dentist, you would close your eyes to prevent any water being splashed in them. At this new high tech place, they give you huge yellow foggy glasses. The giant all plastic blind old people glasses.
Totally Hot, I know.
Then, my dentist is lovely, but I didn’t appreciate her conversation with the assistant.
‘Doesn’t she have beautiful skin?’ she said while pointing at me.
‘I’d kill for her eyelashes. She should be an actress or something.’ replied the assistant.
‘Her shoes are sooooo cute!’ The dentist said, muffled by her mask.
OK, two huge problems:
1 – Please don’t talk about me like I’m at a funeral parlor and you are preparing me for a viewing. I’m alive… and despite these gi-normous glasses that cover most of my face, my ears are still fully functional. Though, if you give me one more shot of Novocain, I’m not sure how much longer they will work – but trust me, I’m willing to take the risk. Load me up.
2 – I’m on to your little game. You are trying to make me feel better by developing a ‘connection’ from compliments. Let me clarify something for you - you could say I was hotter than Claudia Schiffer and I still wouldn’t like you. It’s not personal; it’s your pain inducing drill.
I survived, but barely.
Does anyone know how many Tylenol you can take just before it becomes toxic but way after it takes the pain away?
Monday, January 14, 2008
My weekend?!?!…
I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.
But, I CAN be grateful. Out of all that could have gone wrong – electrical, roofing, etc – the problem was plumbing, which happens to be my man’s specialty. What would have cost the average Joe Blow upwards of several grand in city charges, backhoe charges, and labor charges - only cost us about $180 and a whole lot of arm strength from my fantastic dad and Chris who both put in an entire day of hard labor. Many thanks to those who stopped by to lend a helping hand.
Sure Chris was smiling, he was in the backhoe while my dad was 6 feet down a hole!
Jessie stopped by to help out. Dad was in the hole, you just can't see him.
Chris' family stops by to help put the yard back together.
But, I CAN be grateful. Out of all that could have gone wrong – electrical, roofing, etc – the problem was plumbing, which happens to be my man’s specialty. What would have cost the average Joe Blow upwards of several grand in city charges, backhoe charges, and labor charges - only cost us about $180 and a whole lot of arm strength from my fantastic dad and Chris who both put in an entire day of hard labor. Many thanks to those who stopped by to lend a helping hand.
Sure Chris was smiling, he was in the backhoe while my dad was 6 feet down a hole!
Jessie stopped by to help out. Dad was in the hole, you just can't see him.
Chris' family stops by to help put the yard back together.
And that's it. If you don't hear from me for a few days, it's because I'm showering.
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