things remembered

I can't get out the door to Firefly without posting about the recently departed King of Pop. While I was waiting for the coffee to brew, I checked out a few videos, and I'd never seen this one. It reminded me of three things:

• Michael Jackson was seriously adored. He was majorly weird, but people loved him.
• He was disturbingly obsessed with his own crotch. Everybody's got one, dude. There was really no need to thrust yours at us and rub it all the time like you did. But that's alright. It was your thing. Like sparkly socks and loafers.
• Britney Spears used to be crazy hot.

So, here's the video. You don't really have to watch it all the way through. It doesn't really change much. Of course, you can just stare at Britney's legs the whole time and try to figure out a way to magically transfer them to your own body as I did. For the record, I haven't come up with an answer.



I'm off to Firefly.

brilliant

I love this article. Thought I'd share. Now, anyone who can figure out a way to turn back time to get rid of McMansions, please volunteer. Those are some eyesores I'd love to get rid of. But, um, can I keep the coffee? Please. I always get a small.

that's my girly girl

When I was pregnant, I was sure S was a boy, and honestly, I kind of wanted a boy. Only because I wanted my very own awesome kid like MoWask's K. Plus, I was afraid I'd get a girly girl who would be all obsessed with princesses and fairies and crap. And you know what, I obviously got a girl. And I got a girly one, and it's awesome.

Today, while I was printing some things at my aunt's house, S was wearing pink Fancy Nancy ballet slippers, a sparkly barrette in her hair, a pink princess necklace, and fairy wings as she played with a doll and begged to watch Angelina Ballerina. Seriously. It doesn't get much girlier than that, does it? I suppose she could have her nails painted, but she can't sit still that long.

When we got home and started to read books before her nap, she wanted to read all three of her Angelina Ballerina books. Of course. Then I started thinking about the books she's been obsessed with throughout her two and a half years. Fancy Nancy? Check. Madeline? Check. Fairy houses? Check. Pinkalicious? Check. Now it's Angelina.

My child is all girl. All the time. It is so fun.

it could work

I just needed a break from ironing. We'd used a bunch of my tablecloths for Relay for Life, and I have to iron them before I put them away. They've been clean for over a week, but I really hate ironing. Anyway, I'm almost done, but I had to take a breather. I used the break to check out some celebrity gossip.

I've decided that, despite the fact that I don't care much for Bradley Cooper, I like the idea of him and Jennifer Aniston together. Because, frankly, he is one of the few men on earth who can compete with her in terms of having crazy awesome hair and a wicked tan. If they made babies, those babies would be little bronze gods and goddesses, and they'd pop out with hair that could garner hair product contracts.

Think about it.

John Mayer couldn't have possible worked because he does insane things with his hair, and he's covered in tattoos, rendering a tan obsolete. Brad Pitt tans well, but his hair was always questionable compared to hers.

There it is. Someone tell Jennifer Aniston I've figured out her love life.

the time has come.

This week.

It's here.

It's been looming on the horizon for a good long while, and now it's here. Firefly is this weekend. I am really, really looking forward to it, while simultaneously praying that the heat slacks off a bit. Four days outside in 90+ temps does not sound great. Mid 80s sounds good, not mid 90s.

Temperature aside, because I really have zero control over it, the week is shaping up to be a doozy. M leaves for Iowa in the morning, so I'll be a single parent until Friday, the first day of the festival. Mel is out of town until Wednesday, which means my built-in, "I need you to watch S for 20 minutes" babysitter is gone, and she took the girls with her, which means I'll likely have to spring S on Feathernester occasionally this week...just a heads up. I'll be taking S with me to my granddaddy's eye appointment this morning, so we might be starting off in the hole. Like I said, it's going to be a doozy.

My goal is to keep everything as normal and laid back as possible until Thursday. I am challenging myself to 3 days of normalcy. Three days of calm before the storm. We'll see if I can pull it off. The reward will be seeing S's face at the Farmer Jason concert Friday night...and hopefully some new art for the bedroom and a firepit for the backyard. Those are pretty good rewards...

yes! we can.

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animal psychology

Okay. So yesterday on the way to our great expedition in the park, we drove past a small turtle in the road. It was a pretty busy highway, and I fear that the turtle had little to no chance of making it safely to the other side. I would've stopped and escorted the turtle, as we did a few weeks ago in Franklin, but unfortunately for the turtle, this wasn't a nice, straight stretch of highway, it was in a double curve, so it wasn't safe for anyone to be walking about. And since this was the third turtle that I've seen crossing a highway in a couple of weeks, I got thinking.

How advanced is a turtle's little turtle brain? I mean, does a turtle know that crossing a major highway is like playing Russian roulette with very large SUV's? Or, does it not even realize there is anything different? Does the turtle spend days or weeks agonizing over whether or not the mystery on the other side of the road is worth risking its life? Are the turtles we see crossing roads the Vasco de Gamas, the Christopher Columbuses, the Walter Raleighs of turtledom? Or are they just turtles that don't know any better?

Discussion is open. Advanced degree in animal psychology not required.

into the wild

It took seven enormous ticks, two small ticks, a hundred mosquito bites, two slightly skinned knees, a lot of whining about not wanting to walk, Feathernester digging a gnat out of my right eye, an entire jar of peanuts, and one traumatically skinned hand, but S and L completed their first hike this morning. Technically, the peanuts and the skinned hand didn't happen until after the "hiking" was done, but it was part of the overall experience, so I'm counting it.

We took the girls to Montgomery Bell this morning, and we walked the Nature Loop with them. There was one incident of off-trail exploration (about ten yards of it) around a fallen tree, which was pretty exciting. We also collected lots of fallen leaves and acorn caps; saw a millipede, a lot of daddy-long-legs, and a worm; heard lots of pretty birds; hit a lot of things with sticks; and constantly looked for the monkeys that L was certain were out there somewhere (I am certain that FN and I did nothing to sever that illusion as we kept making monkey noises). S proclaimed that one of the trail markers was a fairy house, and once she even told me she saw a fairy. I must've missed it. Old lady eyes, you know.

Anyway, we are home now. Our leaves are being pressed under some cookbooks. The girls have eaten mac and cheese with peas. S's hand is bandaged and looks like someone did some major damage to her as I had to wrap tape around it to keep the band aid in place. It has been a pretty lovely day.

Oh, and to distract S from having her hand "fixed," Mellie brought her some of those little girl play high heels. We'd not let her play with them before. She loves them...and heels really do make your legs look good.

one down.

One of the big June projects is mostly done. There are still a few random auction items in my possession, but I have at least spoken to all the winners now, and I am certain that my house will be a Relay-for-Life-free zone by Thursday. I feel confident about that. Either way, I'm calling it a success, and I'm calling it done.

Our little team raised another $3500 Friday night, so that puts us over $5000. Though it's no "Colgate Class of 1959" amount, I am really, really pleased with the total. Here are a few pics from the evening.

L...doing Lord-knows-what.
The giant cherry coke that kept me going...

Perfect, and I mean perfect, weather.

Oh, and for those of you who enjoyed (and by "enjoyed," I mean "fell in love with") Saranac's Summer Brew at reunion, M and I have done some experimenting with lemonade and lager. While attempting the mixture ourselves yielded the right taste, it screwed up the bubbles. However, last night I picked up Leinenkugel's Summer Shandy, and it's pretty dang good. Of course, if you have access to the Saranac, I'd choose that any day of the week.

here comes the crazy

Allow me to recreate a situation from yesterday that had me laughing so hard that I found myself in a makeshift child's pose in the dining room floor.

L was coloring with markers yesterday afternoon when she and Feathernester came over for lunch. As I was putting the markers into their jar when we were cleaning up, I asked Feathernester if she thought it meant I was crazy to put the markers into the jars upside down so that the ink was always flowing toward the markers' tips.

Her response? (And forgive me if this is a little off, Feathernester.)

"It's not the upside down thing that's crazy, it's that you have separate jars for different brands of markers."

The sad things is that she's right. There's a Crayola jar, a Rose Art jar, an Ecolorgy jar, a colored Sharpie jar, and a black Sharpie jar. (Plus a colored pencil jar and a crayon bin.) Amazingly, I had thought this little bit of anal retentive art supply organization would go unnoticed. Being called out on it made me laugh so hard I thought I would pee.

Oh, well. I embrace my crazy. Here's hoping you have a wonderful, crazy, organized evening.

a lack of motivation

Today is one of those days. One of those days that I don't actually want to do anything. That's not a good thing when you've got a nice, long list of things to do. In fact, it's a key ingredient in a recipe for a disastrous Friday night. Alas, I am sitting here at the computer instead of working on bid sheets or wrapping baskets or writing artist descriptions.

I've been trying to take it a little easier this week because I don't want to wreck my back before Friday evening. I can't afford for that to happen, and sitting on the couch, alternating ice and heat, is, for me, a surefire way to make me want to stay on the couch. Reading. Or napping. Yeah, napping. But, I feel guilty taking up real estate on the couch, so I get up and mill about and avoid doing the things I should be doing. I am just seriously unmotivated. Anyone know a cure for that?? If you do, please, for the love of Pete, tell me now.

i'm afraid i can't

S picks up new phrases all the time. Not words, phrases. Like, "you're killing me," or, "no paws, Otis, " or, "just one more minute." Last week, however, she picked up two phrases that I think might be the most annoying ever. "I'm afraid," and, "I can't." I don't mean to sound all I'm Every Woman/ the Little Engine that Could, but I'm about to scream. She picked up the afraid thing because of my granddaddy's tractor. She wanted to ride on the "chug chug," but it's wicked loud, and she got startled when he started it. She refused to get on, which was fine. Then Granddaddy started making a thing of it, trying to be sweet and explain that it was fine, but continually talking about it just built it up in her head. Then the next time we were at the farm, he kept talking about taking her out to the small tractor, and she just kept saying no. I had to explain to him...over and over...that she was afraid of the tractor. And that was that. She tells me she's afraid of loads of stuff now. She's afraid of trucks, so she can't cross the street. She's afraid of Hickory the puppy (who is probably frightening to her because he jumps and nips), so she refuses to walk outside unattended at the farm. She's afraid of worms. She's afraid of bees. You get the idea.

I don't know where "I can't" came from. I thought it was because I can't pick her up right now because my back is messed up, but she's been saying it longer than that.

Seriously...I'm going to have to put this kid in some kind of therapy. No kid of mine is going to run around saying she can't do stuff. I'm not having it. If I have to start chanting, "I think I can. I think I can," I'll do it. Any advice?

wowsers.

Either all of you were really, really bored yesterday, or you really, really love an informal poll. I was cracking up all day at the comments. Funny thing is, M and I kept talking about it, trying to reach a consensus, but it wasn't a big deal. Now he's contemplating a Mr. Ouiser guest post. I'm loving every minute of it.

Nothing of note is happening here. It's officially that time of year where we can play outside in the morning and afternoon but not the middle of the day. It's too hot. So, we've been playing like mad in the mornings, and just taking it easy around lunch. The taking it easy led to her painting herself "like a bear" on Monday. She claimed that I couldn't give her a bath because, "Mommy, I'm a bear." I had to tell her that even mama bears have to give baby bears a bath if they are covered in paint.

And the hot weather led to her first ponytail yesterday. I nearly died from the cuteness overdose. Died. Here are some pics. Have a great Hump Day, peeps.

opinion

M and I decided that we need assistance in settling a little debate.

If you listen to an audio book, can you say that you've read the book? You've heard every single word of it, but how do you enter a conversation about the book? Should you say, "Oh, I listened to that last week?" or can you just claim to have read it? It's a pretty constant question around here as M has been listening to audio books during his commute for the past couple of months.

Opinions?