...is this thing on?

Bam!

I have had this layout sitting on my desk for, oh, about 3 weeks or so.  I finally decided to get off my booty and finish it.  My scrapbooking volume has gone way down in the past 8-9 months.  I used to make 4-5 layouts a week and now I'm lucky if I do that many in a month.  

I've been using my handwriting on layouts lately, even though I'm not a big fan of my handwriting.  I'm never in love with the finished product when I use my handwriting, but I do like the fact that it is a whole hell of a lot faster than using the computer.  It makes me a lot more nervous though.  I hate it when I spell things wrong or my writing is all slanted or crappity.  I especially hate it when I screw something up and then have to rip the whole layout apart and completely redo it.  That is bad. 

It's done though.

In the album it goes.

Amen.

 

Arguing With a Three Year Old

I'm not sure why I do it.  You'd think I know better by now.  You simply can't reason with a three year old.  They are right.  End of story.  It doesn't matter that I'm twelve times (plus) older than her.  I know nothing.  I anticipate that this shall only continue until they both have their own children and they realize "holy shit, Mom totally knew what she was talking about."  Yes, there are times that Griffin thinks I know nothing as well.  Those times are frequent.

One morning, while I was trying to get Ava dressed, she was wiggling her underwear clad tiny heiny around in the mirror, which worries me a bit, especially when she also does things such as lifting her dress and saying, "look at me boys!"  Dear baby Jesus...  Help us.  I'm left fielding again.  Let me get back on track here...  

Ava said, "Mom, see my birth marker?"  (She has a quarter size birth mark on her thigh.)

"Yes", I replied.

"It washes off", she confidently stated.

I responded "No honey, it doesn't."

"Yes it does.  It's paint.", she countered.  "Someone painted on me."

"No honey.  It's on there forever and ever."

She argued, "No it's not.  It's marker."

Sigh...

"No honey.  It won't come off",  I said.

"Yes, it will."

"No, it won't"

"Yes, it will."

"No, it won't."

"Yes, it will."

"No, it won't."

"Yes, it will."

"Get dressed Ava."  I replied, clearly giving up.

On the other side of the coin, I will argue with her on purpose just so she will say specific words.  The way she says several words just makes me smile.  She can be so very terribly cute.  I try to get her to say "sure" and "didn't".  She says "sur", as in Big Sur, for sure and "dinn't" for didn't.  I'm a terrible person.  I know.  I just can't help myself though.  Soon enough, she will learn how to properly pronounce those words, just like Griffin did, and I will miss her versions.

They grow up too fast and before I know it she will be grounded for missing curfew.  For now though, I want to hold on tight to all the sweet baby girl cuteness that I can.   

 

  

No, really...

 

For reals, folks...

I can't make this shit up.  They are all over mid-Michigan.   We stopped there last Friday to get gas, because we are stupid and forgot to fill up after we ate dinner.  I've always seen the signs for these stores (gas stations extraordinaire) on our many treks "up North" through the years, but up until last Friday I was a Jerky Outlet virgin.  Amen. 

...and yes, they are as scary as you would imagine.  The bathrooms were lined with pine logs, just like the building.  There were stuffed creatures decorating the walls, a fake deer head that sung and talked to you as you walked by and the whole place reeked of jerky, which in normal situations I like.  I'm a carnivore.  I admit it.  I was too afraid to even peek in the cases to see what types of furry woodland creatures had been jerkified.  Oh my God.  What if they had jerkied frogs, or snakes or coons, or something else equally horrifying?  *shudder*   I'm pretty sure I heard some dueling banjos playing out back. 

After we got back (ran for our lives) in the car, the smell of jerky was in my nose and wouldn't leave.  I leaned over and gave Chris a sniff and realized that he stunk like a big ol' honking bag of beef jerky.  I'm sure I stunk too.  It was an experience folks...  an experience indeed.  We hauled ass out of there.  We didn't want to become their next batch. 

Labor Day Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekend - Part 1

Chris has been talking about how much that he has wanted to go on an alpine slide again, oh, ever since we met 9,000 years ago.  He rode one umpteem bazillion years ago when he was growing up and loved it.  We were going to go on one when we were visiting Jackson Hole the first time I took him home to meet the fam damily and it wasn't open.  He was SO bummed out.  Chris's Mom, Jan, told us that there was one now up near their house at one of the ski resorts; Crystal Mountain.

Chris was stoked.  As soon as I woke up on Saturday morning he told me I had 45 minutes until we were leaving.  I was like "dude...  I'm not moving until I have a cup of coffee".  Chris doesn't drink coffee.  He doesn't get it.  It's freakish, I tell you.  How does a person not need coffee?  I need my coffee.  NEED.  It is not an option.  So, I had my cup of coffee and rushed around to get ready in the time frame Mr. Demanding laid out.  Geez.  He was clearly very excited.

I hadn't been on an alpine slide since we family vacationed at Lake Tahoe when I was about 13.  Yeah...  I'll be 37 (eek!) next week, so that would be 24 years ago.  Almost a quarter of a century ago.  Good Lord!  There's nothing like an alpine slide to remind you that you are getting old. 

 

As we were riding up the chair lift, I let one of my "high-and-mighty-I-grew-up-in-Idaho-you-call-these-mountains" comments fly, which always make Chris nuts.  I simply cannot keep my mouth shut.  I'm a mountain snob.  I was all "so that's it, huh?", when we got to the top of the mole hill.  I'm used to being on chairlifts forever.  Not a mere 3 minutes.  I know it bugs him, so I ALWAYS make snotty comments about the "mountains" in Michigan.  Heh.  He does stuff that bugs the ever loving crap out of me (like breathe while he is sleeping) so I figure we are even.     

That's Grandpa behind us and the resort, which was really nice by the way.

 

Chris kept getting behind the pokey kids, or maybe it was because he was hauling ass as he descended the slide.  I'm pretty sure he would have run that kid over if he had his druthers.  *ahem*  Racing was strictly forbidden.  No one said anything about competitively descending though.  I'm pretty sure Griffin was ensuring that no one was riding their butt too. 

Ava has the need for speed.  God help us.  She LOVED the alpine slide.  She rode with Chris twice and she kept saying "faster Daddy, faster" as they recklessly flew down the slide.  I'm a total pansy ass and actually care about the safety of our darling, wonderful, amazing children, so he always beat me and whatever child I had on my sled.  That's right kids.  Mommy loves you more than Daddy.     

It was a blast.  The dude that was taking the tickets, kept forgetting to actually take the physical tickets from us, so we kept riding.  Heh.  That is, until I regained my moral compass and decided that we should stop.  You know...  Because it was WRONG and I didn't want to get in trouble.  I hate getting in trouble.  Chris comes from a long line of shysters and petty thieves, so he would have ridden all day.  (I'm only half joking, folks.)  I'm surprised he didn't grow up to be a carny. 

  

Just Like Eleventy Bagillion Other Kids in the USA

My precious baby, Griffin, returned to school yesterday.  The big difference about yesterday is that it was his first day of being in class ALL day.  That's right.  Griffin is in first grade this year.  Welcome to the beginning of twelve years of institutionalized education, buddy.  Chris, being the awesome Dad that he is, dropped him off for his first day of school and even made sure that the official first day of school photos were taken.  Damn, he is good. 

Chris made him wear something presentable, even though he reported back that some of the kids showed up in sweat pants.  Who sends their kid off to their first day of school in sweat pants?  Chris even made him tuck his shirt in.  Griffin said, "but Dad, now I look fat", because his shirt was all poofy.  Chris then, made him put on a belt and Griffin said, "great, now I look like a fat dork."  The kid has to wear slim pants people.  SLIMS.  He has long legs, so in order to find pants that are long enough for him, they have to be slims, otherwise he drowns in the fabric.

I asked Chris how the dropping off went and he said it was pretty anti-climatic.  Griffin saw his good buddy Aiden and bolted over to him, where they proceeded to jump around like fools.  They are in the same class this year again.  Hopefully the teacher will be able to contain the two of them.  They are like a whirling dirvish when they are together.  When the bell rang, his teacher opened the door, let the kids in, the said "thanks for dropping them off" and then shut the door.  That was it.  Nothing else.  Access denied.  Buh bye.

    

Catching the Last Bit of Summer

I've always wanted to do some "catching the sun photos", so while we were playing in the water and watching the sunset we also took some fun pictures.

You know someone is totally going to steal these pictures and they are going to end up on some horoscope or freaky deaky new age website. 

I am a powerful Sun Goddess.  I harbor the energy of the sun within my womanly body.  I have the power to create life...  I will also hurls balls of fire at you if you piss me off.  HI-YA!!!  Take that!   Oh crap...  I dropped my ankh necklace.  Damn it.   

Green Tip

My friend Erica posted a link on her blog that I wanted to share with all of my earth muffin, tree hugger readers.  I don't know about you, dear Internet, but I hate getting phone books.  We NEVER use them.  Every time we get a new one, we do the same thing...  Swap it out with the old one (which we recycle) and then it gets put up on the top shelf of our coat closet, where it never sees the light of day again.  If it gets used once a year it is a total miracle.  We are Googlers.   

If you go to Yellow Pages Goes Green you can sign up to be removed from the list to receive unsolicited phone books.  I'm not 100% sure that it works or not, but it doesn't hurt to try.  I signed us up.  Now, I need to tackle the junk mail.  There's nothing that I hate more than going out to the mailbox, only to see it stuffed full of stuff that will immediately go into the recycling bin.  If anyone knows of a service would you let me know?

PS - A recap of Labor Day weekend is forthcoming. 

True Confessions

This week while the kids have been with their grandparents I have done the following:

• Ate Golden Grahams cereal for dinner.  Twice.  While sitting on the couch.
• Ate a small bag of buttered movie popcorn for dinner one night.  It cost $4.75.  Crap.
• Ate some form of ice cream each and every night, while sitting on the couch. 
• Laid around and read most of Breaking Dawn for many, many, many hours.  I'm almost done.
• Went shooting with Chris.  We shot two rounds of trap and tried skeet for the first time.  Our scores are as follows:
  • Trap Round 1:  Chris - 13, Ashley - 13 (out of 25)
  • Trap Round 2:  Chris - 16, Ashley - 16
  • Skeet: Chris - 8, Ashley - 15  (Uh huh.  Oh yeah.  Woot woot!)
• Went out to a totally inappropriate movie with Chris:  Pineapple Express.  (It was *meh*.  There were some hilarious parts, but overall really stupid.  All they did was smoke pot.)
• Got ready every morning without getting kicked out of the bathroom once because someone had to poop. 
• Slept in late every day.
• Only yelled at someone one morning out of five.  Sorry Chris.
• Only made one sandwich, instead of the ten that normally I make for kids lunches every week, and I actually ate it.  (Dinner on Wednesday night.)
• Watched Hollywood's True Story on E! about the Kardashians.
• I also watched New York Goes to Hollywood on VH-1.

So, in summary, I pretty much just farted around and enjoyed my total lack of responsibility.  I totally miss our little boogers now and can't wait to see them.     

Well, no freaking wonder foreclosures are at an all time high.

Last week I lamented over the fact that our house is too damn small for the Gaileys and all of our precious treasures (read crap).  I also did some number crunching and found that we would be OK when Chris's job is finally transitioned to India. In addition to being OK, we would actually be able to afford a larger payment.  It would be tight, but we could do it.  We aren't looking to purchase a palatial mansion or anything.  We really just need an additional full bathroom and a dining room, because I want to get ready without someone having to poop and we want to entertain.  Not at the same time, mind you.

We simply can't entertain in this house and it sucks because Chris and I like to entertain.  We are very entertaining people.  There is no dining room, only a tiny eat in kitchen.  We have had people over for dinner, but it is tight, tight, tight and once the table is pulled out from the wall no one can move.  You are literally trapped in your seat and you can't open the refrigerator.  How are you supposed to get another beer if you can't open the fridge?  It's not very enjoyable.  I don't know how families had five kids and lived in these houses back in the days of yore.

We are slowly completing our due diligence to see if our number crunching matches up with what the professionals' numbers say.  We contacted our mortgage broker to run some scenarios though and to see what we could qualify for if we actually do decide to take the next step.  We explained our situation, that Chris's job will be heading off to India soon, so, could they please run the numbers through with his salary and without.  Just trying to get our ducks all lined up, you know.

Apparently, we are approved for a "ridiculous amount of money" just on my salary.  She didn't even add Chris's salary into the mix, because that was already more than we were inquiring about.  Our mortgage broker said, "oh and you could buy a home for "that ridiculous amount of money" in addition to still owning your current home."  Ummmmm...  Yeah...  Seriously...  We are TOTALLY flattered, thank you so much for believing in us, you are really sweet and all that jazz, but I don't think so.  Yeah...  NO.  There is nothing that frightens me more than the prospect of owning two homes in this horrible economy.  *shudder*  That is just a foreclosure waiting to happen.

Chris and I have always been very conservative when it comes to buying homes.  All two of them that we have ever purchased.  I'm always amazed at what we qualify for.  That's super duper and all, but how exactly are we supposed to eat, clothe our children and heat our house if we actually bought one at the top of the range?  I'm thinking that maybe, just maybe, that this is a contributing factor to the mortgage crisis.  You know...  People buying more, just because they could?  Keeping up with the Joneses and all that...  Not really thinking it through.

Our next step is to talk to an agent to discuss recent property sales in the area.  We want to see what we can expect.  We want to know what we could list our home for.  More due diligence.  We aren't in a position where we have to sell our home.  We won't take a hit on our current house just because we want another bathroom and a dining room.  If the numbers don't work we won't do it.  End of story. 

We are just in the information gathering phase.  We like to make informed decisions.  Especially me.  Especially when it comes to money.  OK, Chris too.  We just aren't risk takers.  I suppose that is why we will never be entrepreneurs or day traders.  I could never handle the stress of constantly worrying that we could lose everything at the drop of a hat.  I already worry too much about stupid things and stress drives me to drink.  Well, more so than regular, I mean.                 

I forgot all about these.

I created these layouts for the September It Kit, that was revealed oh...  on the 15th of this month.  Oops.  Totally forgot to post them.   

The stamp is an It Kit exclusive.  Isn't it pretty? 

Bad Waitress

When we were in Seattle for our almost full week of debauchery and jackassery, errrr...  I mean our friend's wedding, we were invited to a party for one of the groomsmen.  It was his fortieth birthday.  I felt weird about going, because although we knew the guy, it wasn't like he was a good friend.  It was a friend of a friend sort of thing.  We weren't planning on going, but decided "what the hell" at the last moment.

This was also the evening that I was introduced to the mojito.  "Ashley, Mojito", "Mojito, Ashley".  We got along famously.  I have yet to have one that was as good as the ones I had there.  The restaurant was called Marjorie in case any of you Seattleites are needing a good mojito.  In addition to the great drinks, there were lots of great hors d'oeurves and of them my favorite was the seasoned fried plantains that were served with guacamole.  They were fantastic!

Once the party got going we had a private waitress attending to us.  She seemed friendly, although a bit dim.  Then I started watching her and listening to her in between eating all the friend plantains.  "Who was this FOOL?", I thought to myself.  I watched her pour water to the very top of the rim of each and every glass on the table.  All twenty or so of them.  The girl across the table from me and I shot bewildered looks back and forth.  Clearly, the waitress was a nutter.

She then picked up the hors d'oeurves and started walking around to people, forcing them to take some, all the while complaining that no one was eating the food.  It was really awkward.  At one point she asked if people wanted drinks and one individual asked for a beer.  She asked him, "Do you want ice in that?".  I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.  Who has ice in their beer?  That is wrong.  Sick and wrong.  At another point she was passing out bread.  She asked if people wanted olive oil for their bread and then absolutely doused one guy's bread with the olive oil when he said "yes".  The bread was sopping wet.  Totally soaked. 

She fixed her lip gloss.

She checked the messages on her phone.

She butted in on conversations and told us how much she LOVED Leonardo DiCaprio.

She was a bumbling idiot.

She was terrible!

Who hired this person?!? 

Finally, one of the other party goers let me in on a little secret.  The birthday boy's mom had hired this ditz as entertainment.  I think the words that came out of my mouth first were "oh thank God!".  She was an awful, terrible, bad, bad, bad waitress, however, she was CLEARLY a great actress.  She had us all going.  She revealed herself to the group after she sang the birthday boy "Happy Birthday" a la Marilyn Monroe with an English cockney accent. 

I was SO relieved. 

So were many of the other party goers.  No one wanted to get her canned, but had she not revealed herself, that restaurant was going to have a lot of complaints. 

        

Woes, Sans Kidlets and Zombies

In the big scheme of things, Michigan tends to screw a lot of stuff up.  I want to shake the ever loving crap out of our state government to get them to wake the hell up to do something to help the state.  The economy here is terrible and totally by our own doing.  You see, everyone has relied on the big three (Ford, GM and Chrysler) for years. That was all fine and good when they were doing well, but in recent years they haven't been doing well.  There is this amazing thing called diversification and it prevents downturns from being so widespread.  There are also these things called tax incentives that can help to bring new business into states. 

This isn't rocket science here folks...  It makes me want to run for office.  OK, not really. 

One of the things that Michigan does right is that school doesn't start until after Labor Day.  A state law was passed a few years back preventing this from happening.  I always hated when you had to go back to school the week before Labor Day and then you had a three day weekend right away.  Griffin's summer camp ended last week and school doesn't start until next Tuesday, so there is a week where we needed someone to watch him.  That is where Chris's folks come in.  The kids are enjoying one last summer fling at their grandparent's house where they will go to the beach and ice cream daily.  OK, so they will most likely have ice cream twice daily.  Who am I trying to kid.  Life is good at Grandma and Grandpa's house.   

That means we are kidless for a week. 

Whoa. 

We have several things planned and none include McDonald's Happy Meals or the Disney Channel.  Chris is painting the garage door tonight.  Woo hoo.  I plan to sleep in late every morning and not have to listen to crying and bickering children in the morning.  THAT RIGHT THERE IS SPECTACULAR GOODNESS.  I also plan to get ready in the morning without someone kicking me out of the bathroom because they have to poop.  Typically, these "someones" are of the child variety.  Although, Chris, this applies to you too.  Consider yourself warned.   

We are going to have a couple of date nights too.  On Wednesday we are going out for a super romantic night of shooting trap at the gun range.  Listen...  I know you all think we are crazy, but we really do enjoy shooting together.  It's awesome that we have found a hobby/sport that we both enjoy.  Besides, if zombies were ever coming after me, I could totally take them out.  If I can hit a wee little clay pigeon whizzing across the sky I could surely down a zombie or two.  These are important skills people, and I for one am against zombies eating my brains. 

We are also doing dinner and a movie sometime this week too.  A "R" rated movie.  With lots of swearing and other adult stuff.  We are most likely going to see Pineapple Express.  I'll let you know how it is.  We also plan to do lots of other things in places that we don't normally do them, if you know what I mean.  That's right.  We are going to eat on the couch and leave our clothes on the floor.  We might also leave dirty dishes in the sink, because we are crazy like that.    

How to Eat Watermelon: A Pictorial

I hope he is as passionate about other things in life as he is about eating watermelon.

(...and then I promptly made him take off his shirt to go soak it.)

Holy CRAP!!!

I just found out that Madonna has added some new cities to her tour and is coming to DETROIT!  Holy crap.  Holy crap.  Holy crap.  Detroit was not on the original tour list.  I checked as soon it was released and was bummed out when I saw that she wasn't coming to her effing home town.  What kind of crap is that?!?  I was even contemplating going to Chicago. 

*hyperventilate*  *hyperventilate* 

Tickets go on sale tomorrow.  I'm flipping out.  I'm a huge fan (shut up) and have always wanted to see her in concert.  It's even on my list of things to do before I die, over there on the left.  I told Chris that I'm buying two tickets and he may just have to go with me.  He's going to be SO embarrassed as I dance and sing every word to every song while I make him hold my purse.  But wait!  Sometimes she has topless back-up dancers.  Boobies, Chris.  There just may be boobies!   

Dear Lord...  Please let me actually get tickets.  I'll seriously cry if I can't get tickets.

...and quit making fun of me.     

She just turned 50 and could kick all of our asses while wearing a leotard and thigh-high patent leather boots with six inch heels.  Can you do that?  Yeah.  I didn't think so.  She's fierce.       

ETA:  Got tickets!  As much as I wanted to, I just couldn't bring myself to spend $350 a ticket to be on the floor.  Holy expensive. 

Fleeting

Do you feel it?  Summer.  She is leaving us.  Not today.  Not tomorrow.  Not for a few more weeks yet, but she is definitely making her plans.  There is a crispness in the air at night and in the morning that just feels like fall.  Slowly, but ever so surely, she is going and I hate knowing that her stay is coming to an end.  I've even seen *whispering* a few leaves that have already changed. 

Summer is my favorite season.  I could live in shorts and hippie sandals and dresses/skirts with no nylons.  Ahhhhhhhh!  Summer.  I feel as though summer has just flown by this year and I want to savor these last few moments, because when she is gone she won't be back for a really, really long time.  This is Michigan you know.  Our winters last forever.

Life is slower in the summer and more enjoyable.  Windows open...  Fans going...  Bare feet...  Cold beer...  Grilling...  Fresh produce...  Trips to Dairy Queen...  The smell of sunscreen...  Flowers...  Baseball games...  I don't want it to end.     

Summer is the time for roasting marshmallows out by the fire.  (I'm glad to see the Griffin has inherited my taste for black carbon marshmallows.  Oh yeah, baby.  The blacker the better.)    

Summer is the time for frolicking outside in sun dresses on warm evenings.

It's time for swimming and eating frozen delicacies.  Sometimes at the very same time.

Don't forget swimming in the big lakes.  The big lakes finally get warm enough for a dip, or two, or three.

Plus, everyone should climb a tree or two each summer...

...and participate in some wild rompusing around the yard with Daddy.

I'm not ready.  If I could have it last forever I would.  I really, really would. 

I'll miss her when she goes.

Get rid of it!

This weekend I went a little nutso.  OK, so maybe bat shit crazy is a better description.  I cleaned all day Sunday.  I'm not talking about the surface cleaning, where you walk into a room and automatically can tell that it is sparkly clean.  I'm talking about deep, purging cleaning.  Like "holy Lord why do we still have this toy you haven't touched it in a year it's going to Salvation Army" cleaning.  I tackled ever growing piles of stuff, the basement/play room/computer room/'crapbooking space, closets, the medicine cabinet, my makeup bin, drawers...  and phew...  it was tiring. 

I have three bags of clothes ready to take to the Salvation Army.  Stuff that no longer fit.  Stuff that surely would never, ever fit again.  Stuff that if by some sort of a miracle it did ever fit again it would be hopelessly out of style or inappropriate for a woman of my age/stature to wear.  Stuff that was nappy.  Stuff that I never really loved when I bought it and just sat there in my closest.  Stuff that requires an iron.  I don't iron.  I've now learned that if ironing is a requirement in clothes ownership it is a bad investment on my part because I will get one, and only one, wear out of it. 

I threw out holey underwear.  I threw out deodorant stained white tank tops.  Ewwwwwwww.  I threw away umpteen bazillion little drug baggies filled with buttons.  Red ones, clear ones, black ones, tan ones, blue ones.  All of them went bye-bye into the trash.  I have no clue what they even went to.  Who knows if I even still own the articles of clothing they came with.  I expect all of my buttons to pop off of everything tomorrow in mutiny.  I threw away makeup that I bought eons ago, which probably should have been treated as toxic waste at this point.  I threw out wads of old receipts. 

Stuff just had to go.  

I feel much better now.  Lighter.  Less bogged down in crap.  More organized.  Sort of...

I've been feeling really confined lately.  Our house is not large.  In fact, it is pretty small.  The amount of stuff that four people can accumulate in just a few years is astonishing and we aren't pack rats by any definition of the word.  Chris pretty much donates stuff the instant you put it down.  If you can't find something in the house you can reasonably assume that there is a pink receipt from the Salvation Army stuffed in the 2008 taxes file (or some other year) in the place of your treasure.  "Oh, you still wanted that?"

We've been wanting to move for over a year and a half.  We NEED more room.  We are on top of one another constantly.  This house was never meant to be the house.  It was merely a house "for now".  However, "for now", has turned into almost five years.  We were days from putting our house on the market a year ago April when we found out that Chris's job was being moved to India.  That was supposed to occur last October, but due to the project being pushed back over and over again it still hasn't happened yet.  It should happen in about 5 - 6 weeks though.  He's been looking for a job, but the economy here in Michigan is horrible.  There is fierce competition for the few jobs that are out there.

We are in limbo.  Ready to move on, but held back due to unfortunate circumstances.  It is so very, very, very frustrating.  We moved to Michigan so that our children could grow up close to family and then the economy tanked.  Here we sit.  Ready to start the next chapter in our life only to find that the rest of the pages in the book are all glued together. 

The scary thing is, we have run the numbers and we could still afford a bigger house on one income.  Although our overall income would drop, so would our expenses.  Can you say Daddy Day Care?  Things would be tight, but doable.  Is it worth the risk though?  What happens if we BOTH lose our jobs?  Of course that could happen while we are in this house too...   

It's this kind of stuff, these tough decisions, that really suck about being an adult.  I like the part about being able to eat cake for breakfast, but this stuff gives me ulcers.  It doesn't help that Chris and I have both been taunting one another with awesome neighborhood drive throughs and "hey check out this house" emails.  I guess we just need to shit or get off the pot, but it is the decision to shit or not to shit that is the hard part.         

         

  

The Medley Brothers and Sisters

Back when we were young, which was a very, very long time ago, my brothers and sister and I used to sing quite a bit.  We would sing with our parents while on a road trip, we would sing while performing a horribly acted skit about The Dukes of Hazard, or while dancing to Hall and Oates "Man Eater" (thankfully that video is lost).  We sang everything from Prince (which, oh my God, I can't believe they let us listen to that dirtiness) to Willie Nelson and back again.  Cable TV didn't exist back in those days and the three major networks actually stopped broadcasting at midnight.  Floppy disks were actually floppy, too.

Back in the olden days of yore, companies used catchy jingles to hock their wares.  You know that you automatically started humming "I want to buy the world a Coke" when I said jingle.  Don't lie.  You know you did.  In the eighteen hours a day that television was being broadcast, we would do our damnedest to watch as much as we could possibly get away with.  I could tell you the line up of each channel any day of the week by wrote memory.  I was pretty much a genius.  I also could tell you all the Smurfs names, but I digress...   

With all that television watching it was hard not to absorb some of those jingles.  Being the cute kids that we were, we decided to create a medley of the commercials and sing them forever more.  The only thing is, all the jingles we were singing came from beer commercials.  Imagine four or five kids under twelve singing a medley of beer commercials.  You know our parents were p-r-o-u-d, PROUD of us. 

I seem to remember that we had five or six that we would sing.  Plus, we would sing them in rounds.  No wonder Dad made us sit in the back of the pickup.  Huh.  Sadly, my memory has failed me and I can only remember three.  Without further adieu, I present to you several of the jingles...

Jason, Larson or Ad, if you can remember any of the other ones please let me know.  My feeble mind just can't remember the other ones. 

Don't you just want to eat her?

On really humid days the hair on the back of her head melds together into perfect Nelly Olson curls.  I can't keep my hands off of them.  You can sort of see them here. 

The True Test of Love

Chris and I met in July of 1996 and began dating shortly thereafter...  After he finally grew a pair of cajones and asked me for my phone number after our FOURTH night of talking all night and having a great time together.  From that first date on July 27th, 1996 we have been together.  We never broke up and got back together.  We never dated other people.  We've just been together.  We are like peanut butter and jelly, french fries and ketchup or great dance music and gay bars.  Some things are just meant to be together.

Don't think that our relationship is all rainbows and bunnies, because it isn't.  We've had ups and downs.  Both of us have been laid off from jobs at various times, which caused stress and tension in our marriage.  There have been screaming matches where I turned into evil tourette syndrome woman and he turned into shaking mad guy.  He's always much nicer than I am when we argue.  I'm just crazy and swear a lot.  Which isn't much different than a regular day except I'm madder and a hell of a lot louder.   

The good times far outweigh the bad times in our relationship, which is clearly why we are still together.  I'm pretty sure that is the actual definition of a good relationship if you were to look it up in the dictionary - the good times far outweigh the bad.  If you are in a relationship where the bad times far outweigh the good, you are most likely in a BAD relationship.  Just saying... 

Beginnings of relationships are always full of interesting emotions.  There is so much excitement.  There is so much anxiety.  There are butterflies and fireworks.  Everything is new and everything is a first.  I actually told Chris that I loved him first.  That was something I had NEVER done before.  The guy had always told me first.  I'm generally a pretty emotionally guarded person, so me saying that first was very out of character for me.     

He didn't automatically reply with an "I love you too...", and that freaked me out a bit, but I didn't try to focus on that.  He said it really soon after wards.  I knew he was in it for the long haul when he was talking about the type of toilet he wanted in our house when we were married.  I'm sure he doesn't even remember that conversation, but I'll never forget it, because it freaked me out.  Married?  I just got out of a bad marriage and you are supposed to be my rebound relationship.  You don't marry the first guy you date!  

Actually...  Sometimes you do marry the first guy you date after ending a crappy marriage.     

If I ever needed proof that Chris loved me, I got it on Christmas day 1996.  I had to work on Christmas Eve, because I was working retail (yippee fucking skippie) and that was one of the busiest days of the year.  Stupid procrastinators.  I felt like I had a cold coming on and wanted to cut it off at the pass because we had plans to go to over to my friend's and par-tay like a rock star that night, so I drank two Odwalla - C Monster drinks.  For those of you who don't live in hippie infested areas where Odwallas are sold, let me just tell you about this drink.  The C Monster has 1000% of the daily recommended dose of vitamin C per serving.  There are two servings per bottle.  By drinking two, I had forty times the daily recommended dose.

What many people do not know, and I was one of those ignorant people at the time, is that if you take a vitamin C bomb there are consequences.  Those consequences generally manifest as gut clenching abdominal cramps and uncontrollable diarrhea.  Imagine my concern when I woke up with these symptoms at 4:00 am on Christmas morning after a late night of partying as my boyfriend of just five months was laying next to me.  (Yes, I'm a total sinner.)  I barely made it to the bathroom, but once I did I shat until the toilet seat became one with my ass.  When I was convinced that all the evil had left my body I went back to bed, only to have the whole scenario repeat and repeat and repeat.  It was the best Christmas gift ever.

When I couldn't handle it anymore I woke Chris up and asked him to please, please, please go to the store and get me some diarrhea medicine, otherwise I was surely going to die.  There may have been ugly crying and snot involved, and how that I didn't die of embarrassment right then and there I will never know.  It was just barely 7:00 am, and need I remind you that we had been partying the night before?  He didn't protest or complain once.  He got dressed and quickly scooted out the door in search of diarrhea medicine for his new girlfriend at 7:00 am on Christmas morning.

He returned about an hour later with a bottle of glorious, glorious Kaopectate, which I practically ripped from his hands as soon as he walked in the door.  The poor man went from store, to store, to store, all of which were closed because it was 7:00 am on Christmas morning.  Finally, he found a convenience store that was both open and had ridiculously overpriced diarrhea medicine.  It was a Christmas miracle.  He never made fun of me or begrudged me for making his tired, hung over self go on a wild goose chase on Christmas morning. 

It was then that I knew he TRULY loved me.

 

 

 

We do, however, laugh about it now.

ETA:  I'm a total idiot.  I had my dates all whack.  This occured in 1996, not 2006, as I originally wrote.  I have corrected. 

Note to Self

Dear Self,

The next time you think it would be "fun" to try out that cute new green eyeshadow color you should really wait to do it when it isn't a workday.  It is better to look like a shiny, sparkly drag queen named Crystal la Boufontaine in the safety of your own home versus at work.  I'm only missing my hot pink feather boa and 6 inch clear plastic heels, darlings.  I'm a hot tranny mess.   

XOXO,

Self

PS - Love you, mean it.