Graduating

I am still sick. I am going to do what the sick do when the sick blog. The sick do photo montages. Because the sick are lazy. Say it with me - LAAAY-ZEEEE. My brain's not working right, so funny's taking a nap. I'm on photo autopilot.

Last night my Little Guy graduated from Webelos I to Webelos II. Next January he will graduate to Boy Scouts. Rather than bore you with pictures of the ceremony (mostly because I used the wrong ISO setting and the pictures are all grainy and fuzzy), I choose to delight (that's rather a strong use of the word in this context - just go with it) you with faces at the cake and punch reception following the ceremony. The faces are familiar at this point. The angles - I told you I'm sick, right?

But first, my Little Guy in his uniform, all handsome and proud. And remembering to stand like a man instead of a slouch.


Isn't he handsome? He's worked so hard all year to earn badges and pins and was proud of himself. He's a good kid.



An okay kid. Whichever you prefer.



Here's the man who was giving him weird finger ears. Say hello to my Hunny. I kinda like his old man glasses. People used to call him Al Borland from Tool Time. Now he gets into the whole professor look.

And Maybelline, as we're leaving the house, asks Little Guy, "So do any of your little scout friends have big brothers?" Rein it in there, girl. Soon I'll be padlocking her doors and windows.


Check out Oatmeal Head, recently having discovered the opposite gender himself. And I thought Maybelline had it bad. If one more giggly girl calls my house looking for him at ten o'clock at night ... so help me ...



Not to be outdone for weird angles, Little Guy completes our set. Collect them all!


I can't leave you without my favorite photo of the evening. Okay, second favorite. The one of the Hunny is my favorite. And I'm trying to figure out Photoshop well enough to get rid of the minivan and other background junk.

To all of you out there who have caught my cold, I'm truly sorry. Get better. To the four or five year old who gave it to me, there's a bench with your name on it, kid, and I'll be right behind ya, pushing.

Until I write again ...

Flea

The Case of the Missing Eyebrows

So last Monday night, the Hunny and I spent time with friends. At their house. And we were not home. In fact, we didn't get home until after Little Guy's bedtime and he was in bed. Oddly. The next morning I was having a tough time waking up, so I didn't really notice Little Guy's eyebrows. In fact, it wasn't until Tuesday afternoon, when he was badgering Oatmeal Head that I heard Oatmeal Head yell (for my benefit, I'm sure), "Oh my gosh! What did you do to your eyebrows?"

Of course I call Little Guy downstairs to see what madness has occurred. At first glance I thought he'd gotten into my waxing box, which I'd left on the counter as a reminder to do my own eyebrows, and I had to take Maybelline to guitar, so I left fuming just a tad. And I left Little Guy denying that he'd done anything. Like maybe rats gnawed them off in the middle of the night.

Evening comes, I'm home giving him the third degree, getting angry tears of denial and harsh statements questioning my love for him since I don't believe him. I just sent him to his room till dinner, refusing to be drawn in to his arguments of how it couldn't have been him who sheared his eyebrows off. Lou. That's what it was. Lou scratched the eyebrows off while they were playing. Stupid cat. Uh huh.

So the Hunny comes home, trying his best not to laugh, while I'm still steaming a little, and questions him. It turns out that our bored son snipped away with scissors the night before because he was bored. Talk about a role reversal - the Hunny thinks it's amusing (he was always the one to be incensed) and reminds me that the other two went through similar things when they hit the puberty wall. He argued against punishment, stating that Little Guy having to live with badly trimmed eyebrows was punishment enough.

Never one to humiliate my children *cough* I penciled in Little Guy's eyebrows for the rest of the week before he left for school. Yes. Yes I did. And I know that you didn't read all the way through this just for the story. Unfortunately, I didn't get a good picture of him without the penciled in brows before yesterday and it turns out his hair grows quickly. Here's what I have:


I know. It's nothing like it was on Tuesday. Sorry. The arches (he has the most wonderfully arched brows!) are what took the brunt of the cutting. And he didn't want penciling this morning, since it really is growing back in. That or the guys at school gave him a hard time about wearing makeup.

Until I write again ...

Flea

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Boy howdy did WE ever have our share of excitement last night! See this?

This is a weather radio. Specifically, this is OUR weather radio. Yes, it's a fuzzy weather radio. And it doesn't do a darn bit of good if it's not plugged in.

We had several lines of severe weather come our way yesterday, with the worst sweeping through last night right after 7PM. In fact, my mom called about 6:40 to let me know it was coming, since she knows I don't watch TV. Thank you, Mom! I was keeping an eye on the internet radar, but it's not the same as TV, since I had no idea how bad it was.

Just after seven, and just after the Hunny got home, it all hit. I have to tell y'all, the Hunny is the cutest thing when it comes to emergencies. He ran upstairs to the TV to see the radar, Oatmeal Head turned on the computer to track the radar, I said, to no one in particular, "Where's our weather radio?" It magically appeared. And then the tornado sirens went off.

Well that was when the Hunny kicked into emergency mode. Meaning he paced and panicked in the most adorable way. The kids and I cleared out the closet under the stairs - here it is all put back together (no, people, I'm not posting from a Starbucks somewhere, even thought that WOULD be pretty cool):


We cleared it all out and Little Guy hung out there with the dogs for awhile, talking to one of his friends on my cell phone (yes! it came! I'll show you in a minute), while the Hunny stood at the door listening to the sirens and shushing the rest of us. The sirens would stop and the Hunny would make to go upstairs. I'd call his butt right back down.

All of this was a truncated version of Hurricane Charlie, when we lived in Florida. It was the Hunny's first hurricane and he was about to burst. He'd get all nervous and worked up, then in the worst of it he was dragging the kids outside to watch the transformers blow around town while I'm yelling at him to get them back in. I gave up after awhile. I've since learned to give up much sooner.

The sirens wailed off and on for a good half hour, making us a little nervous at first. Then we were bored. The poor dogs were wild eyed the entire time. I sent Maybelline for the camera so I could photograph the insane wind and rain (and the terrified dogs in the closet), but the Hunny wouldn't let me and take pictures. For Pete's sake, I didn't hear any freight trains! We survived. There was a moment when I think the Hunny and I were both wishing the wind would rip off all the siding so the insurance company would take care of it. Alas. It was not to be. And the kids have long ago learned to be calm in an emergency situation. The most excitement that happens with them is Little Guy worrying about his cat. Otherwise it's all good.

Okay, so this new phone of mine? SLEEK MOTO F-3? LOVE IT!!! Check it out:


I know - it's kinda fuzzy too. But isn't it pretty? The Hunny, who loves his games and features, took one look and had phone lust. I suspect he'd be bored with it inside of two minutes, but it is pretty and sleek - almost nothing to it. And I found an online manual for it in English (the one I received was in Spanish - no habla Espanol).

The screen is way cool! I can read it no matter the angle or lighting. I can text if I want to, but since that costs money, it ain't happenin'. The ring tones are SO MUCH FUN!!! I squishy heart the ring tones - all seven of them. And the menu is very small. BUT! I can set alarms on it if I need to. Yay! So it has everything I need, nothing more, nothing less. And it was 30 bucks plus shipping. How awesome is that? Awesome!

I'll be on a field trip with fourth graders today, visiting Woolaroc. Loving it! It's where the buffalo roam. And I'll probably wave in Mayberry's general direction in passing. Hello Magpie! And wave in the Pioneer Woman's general direction in passing. Hello Ree! And I'll take scads of pictures just to torture you all with! You knew I'd do that, though. The camera's already in the car.

Until I write again ...

Flea

The Water Story

Thank you for your patience! It wasn't till I posted the last that I realized that this isn't a terribly amusing story. And I like amusing. Dang it. But I'll tell it anyway.

Most of you know about our siding issues. We've been getting quotes, going back and forth on types of siding, blah, blah, blah. So we're pretty focused on that, not to mention a little stressed about the financial end of it. Woohoo. Meaning we missed a more immediate repair which was right under our nose. The upstairs shower faucet.

Months ago the kidlets began complaining about their shower, that it dripped, that the handle broke (the Hunny replaced the handle), that it was annoying. Yeah, whatever. I wasn't using it. Handle replaced. They stopped complaining. Then last week we heard yelling during a shower. It seemed the water suddenly went hot and stayed there. The next child to attempt using it found that the water would only turn as far as hot, never reaching the cooler stage. And the whole dripping thing? When we asked why we hadn't heard it, Maybelline tells us how smart they are. They just tucked the shower curtain under the drip after showering "so it wouldn't annoy you guys." Okay, who taught my daughter to say you guys instead of y'all? Something is seriously WRONG with that.

All three kidlets used our shower for the rest of the week. Yuck. Children shedding in my shower, using my towels when asked not to, using my shower gel and scrubbee when asked to bring their own down, not squeegeeing the water which pools in the corners. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am. We had enough.

I called a plumber, he quoted me a VERY reasonable price of $225-250 to do the job if we bought our own faucet, even knowing he'd be opening up Oatmeal Head's wall to replace the faucet completely, and that the pipes are copper. I was pretty darn psyched. Then the Hunny asked where the money would come from. Stupid Hunny. Squash my excitement and ruin my hopes of ever having my shower and stuff to myself. I had no idea. We have a paintball party to throw this weekend, a climbing party next weekend, not to mention gifts.

So the Hunny asked - nay, pleaded - to be allowed to fix it himself. I had rules. He MUST look everything up on line, including how-to videos. He MUST price everything out completely before I'd say yes, and the cost had to be half of the plumber's price. He MUST promise to have it done in one evening. He promised all of those. And he came through on the the first two.

First, I must tell y'all about my own weekend to this point. I took my last Adderall XR on Friday morning, dropped off my prescription, then didn't get my lazy butt to the pharmacy to pick it up. Saturday without it was fine - I had a large coffee a couple of times that day, climbed, did yard work, enjoyed life. Sunday? Not so much. I wanted to sleep all day, forgot Little Guy had a birthday party to attend (he was very late, and I ran out to get the gift after dropping him off), was horribly grouchy and angry with everyone. The Hunny and I had a final class to attend last night and he wanted to play plumber and let me go alone. I hate going alone. I spent too many years going to things alone when the Hunny was grouchy and horrid, and I refuse to do so now that he's a better man. But his arguments were strong, and the money angle was a good hook, so I said yes and left at 5:45. Without my phone (hello? It's dead).

I came home to a very discouraged Hunny, children who were a little put out that the water was off and they were going to die of thirst, but secretly pleased that they didn't have to shower. It seems that the Hunny had found a wonderful system for cutting and fixing the pipes, but only one major hardware store carries it. The store which closed at seven. About 15 minutes before he realized that he needed ONE MORE PIECE to complete the job. The same store which didn't open until seven this morning, even though their phone system said they'd open at six. The Hunny was not happy, I was really ticked. *sigh*

Guess what? When the water's off, the toilets don't flush. Oatmeal Head (he's not named that for nothing) had to go after the water was shut off, so he flushed both toilets to make sure they'd work. So what does the Good Flea get to do upon her arrival home? I called a neighbor and good friend and asked if we could sneak into her yard in the dead of night and use her hose to fill buckets so we could go potty! Oh yes, that was an enjoyable conversation. About as much fun as actually going for the water.

So I was not a happy camper when I arrived home. I was sweet to the children (I think), and not horribly mean to the Hunny. I even sat in the doorway while he made sure the faucet was going to fit, talking to him. But I was certainly snarly once the kidlets were in bed.

So today? The Hunny came home at 6:15 sporting a QT coffee (didn't bring me one and I still hadn't had my Adderall, so GRR), frustrated with the store not being open. But he went back at seven and had the whole thing fixed, water on, by nine. Hoorah! We have water. And a working shower, complete with new faucet, knob and shower head. See?



Grouchy as I was, I must say that I am very proud of my Hunny. He da man. He was a graphic designer for years, working as a professor and department chair for a long time now. Not really into home repair and improvement. But the man learns well. And he did a great job. And I got a shower. The End.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Day in Review

I. Am so. Disappointed. Here I was looking forward to several days worth of bruise photos (I just know all of you were looking forward to it too), but look what my very promising boo-boo has done to me. Traitor.


I know, right? If you want a wound to color up nicely, don't ice it. I iced the heck out of it yesterday (it might have had something to do with wanting to ease the pain), and all I get for my trouble is a little boo-boo. No brilliant explosion of color.

Don't get me wrong - I worked hard today to make sure I'd have gorgeous colors to show you all. My friend, Kathie, a nurse, assured me that another good bang on the shin and some aspirin would ensure nice coloration. While climbing this morning I banged the snot out of it (granted, I stopped climbing after that, and alright, it wasn't exactly intentional), then I came home and took aspirin. It just wasn't enough. Stupid ice. Closed up all those little blood vessels.

The good news is, it doesn't cause excruciating pain today like it did yesterday. The OTHER good news is that Maybelline has overcome her fear of climbing! It took her four weeks to get to the top of the 24 foot beginner wall. Today though she kept tackling the harder wall. I took scads of photos, but I'll only torture you with one (I figure I've already tortured you more than enough):


See how high she got? I'm so proud of her! She rocks! In fact, she's requested a climbing party for her birthday, as well as a pair of climbing shoes. She's so easy.

While climbing we met Harley and Sally Ann. Guess which is which.


If you guessed that Sally Ann is the Great Dane, you're correct! Harley is the drop kick dog. Poor thing. He's really very sweet. He can't help being a drop kick dog. These two raced all over the gym, playing like little children. Considering that Sally Ann is eight and a half, old age for a Dane, I was impressed. Sally Ann walks with Flash and Patches every Thursday. Speaking of which, two things. First, I need to bring my camera on our walks. The mornings are gorgeous and I've seen some birds that I'd never seen in real life before. But I'm having a tough time visualizing walking two sixty pound dogs and taking pictures with my Canon EOS Digital Rebel 300D at the same time.

Second, I snapped a shot of my Babies doing some of their own tussling today. Vicious things.

Aren't they cute when they're about to kill each other?

Last, but not least, Oatmeal Head made a hole for where I'm told my Mother's Day gift will go. He worked hard, I snapped photos, we both sucked on pop ice (I love those things!), and I finally got tired of watching him work so hard and went inside. Heh. Trust me, there's a hole there. If you're wondering, this was one of those little Japanese maples. They're gorgeous trees, but this one was gasping for breath when we bought the house and didn't survive the last year. Poor thing.


The dead maple.


Oatmeal Head and a dead pop ice.


Wait! Just one more! Aren't those lashes just to die for? Boys. They get all the good lashes.

So there's my day in review. Aren't you glad you popped by on a Saturday? Me TOO! Stop in again some time!

Until I write again ...

Flea

Trying This Again

Y'all, Oatmeal Head sent me this link today and I about died laughing. I really needed the laugh, since I'm staring down the barrel of having my entire house re-sided, and all the cost which goes with it. And I thank you all for the weigh ins on the vinyl vs. fiber-cement siding. After much long debate, it looks like the cement may be cost prohibitive, while also being a little too pretentious for our neighborhood. Very sad. But still waiting on quotes. If it's even comparable, I'm jumping all over that fiber-cement board. I hate the idea of vinyl.

And you would never know that Oatmeal Head is grounded - seriously grounded right through his birthday. We were going to ease up, but he managed to twist the screws tighter all by himself. Poor kid. It led to some really good heart-to-hearts though. Which might be why he's in a frolicksome mood. And really, how can a boy turn 14 (tomorrow) without being in a good mood? Here is what he was up to today:

I know. Torturing Lou the Loud with yarn isn't really frolicking. But he seemed to enjoy himself. Not Lou. Oatmeal Head. Doesn't that look like a little noose at the end of the yarn? Maybe for unsuspecting mice.

I'm enjoying the great flower/weed debate. The stalk on that last unnamed flower? Not fuzzy. When I went to look again, take more pictures, I felt the stem. Smooth and silky. Here's a better shot. Can you tell now? I still can't. And the green thing in the last shot of it - I just tugged on a piece and it was growing above the landscape paper in the mulch. Looked like a little bulb on the end. Weird.


Thanks for all your input! Yes, that's a lavender on the left. Love it.

Until I write again ...

Flea

At Least the Door is Done

It's the weekend. No one's paying attention, right? So I'm going to post more pictures of our home improvement project. And to say a big thank you to everyone who's commented and been so encouraging! Here's a look at the nearly finished red front door (I agree - red is the best on front doors!):


The Hunny had painted the trim around the window red initially, but the white makes it pop. I love it when colors pop! I don't necessarily like bright colors, you understand, but pop is good. This door is good.










I figured, as long as I have you here, I might as well ask you all something. Does anyone out there know what this is? Is it a weed? Please tell me it's not a weed. I planted several bulbs last summer - long after they should have been in the ground, when they looked dead - and this might be one of them. I just don't know whether to pull it or leave it. Anyone? Any clue?




There's another plant coming up in the same front garden which I'm pretty sure is one of the bulbs - maybe a dahlia - but I have to wait to make sure. This plant, however, doesn't have that spiky leaf look.





Look, as long as I have you here, you may as well have a look at the plant which sold me on the house. We looked at this house Thanksgiving weekend of '06. There had already been either snow or ice, but that weekend was balmy and this rose bush was in bloom. It's beautiful for half the year, covered in pink roses, very bushy. I know a rose bush is a silly reason to like a house, but if it was still blooming in late November, I figured I needed to live in this house. Right?

Well now that I'm showing you flowers, I can't stop with the rose bush! I have to show you my favorite flower. It's common, true, and smaller than it's cousin, the pansy, but this little viola, known as Johnny Jump Up, is adorable. I'm thinking maybe that's the purple I want on the wall, but the Hunny insists the dining room is too small for such a dark color. Stink. I'll find my purple.



Yes, it's Oatmeal Head. He's relaxing for a moment at the top of the stairs, since he's been helping his dad all day with paint and repairs. Wait, I think Oatmeal Head was actually painting the upstairs bedroom doors today.

See those camo pants? He has four of the same pair of pants. I found them at Ross last fall, size 20 boys (I didn't know boys came in 20) for four dollars a pair and I bought them all. He had grown six inches in the six months prior to that and I was NOT going to spend 30 buck on one pair of jeans to have him outgrow them in a week. He hasn't grown since.

Finally, a shot of my finished front door! I love my red door. It looks even prettier from the street. But my shrubbery looks shabby. Time to trim the evergreens! What you can't see is the azalea blooming near the door - it's white!

Y'all, I'm beat. Have a great rest of your weekend, okay?

Until I write again ...

Flea

Weekend Plans

I've got my spackle. I've got my putty knife. What more do I need?

The Hunny, Oatmeal Head and Little Guy are going to Cub World this weekend for a big camp out. They're all so excited! There's fishing gear in the corner of my living room, a rolled up tent sitting next to it, plans and directions scattered around the house, all the proper forms have been turned in to the proper people. The boys are leaving!

Here I'll be, alone with Maybelline for a couple of days. What do I have planned? Climbing tomorrow morning, of course, which Maybelline is beginning to enjoy. Laundry, which she is not. Trying out my new dryer lint brush with the ten foot extension rod. Woohoo!

On a side not: Little Guy is getting ready for school, putting on his socks, complaining about his cowlick and asking for hair gel, telling me the purple sparkly stuff is okay. Then, "Here's what I wanna do. I want to grow my hair out long and dye it black. It looks cool." I just smile and nod.

Sorry. The big thing I'm doing this weekend involves the spackle and putty knife. See that wall? My dining room wall? That horrendous thing? I'm going to texture it, come hell or high water.

And right now I need to run. Subbing in a pre-k class today. My favorite!

Until I write again ...

Flea

Mail Box Fun

Oh lookit lookit lookit! A box came for me today! A box full of candy, a book and a CD! I popped the CD in while digging through the packing peanuts for loot. Mellow. Jazzy. Bluesy. Love it. It ripped to my laptop and went to Maybelline, who instantly fell in love with Katie Melua. I love blues. Nothing like Kim Hill, but very good. Yes, I'm old.

I won all of this fun loot from I'm Being Held Hostage over at In the Gutter. Thank you!!!

And the candy! Bwahahaha!!! Little Guy's looking at all of it asking, "Didn't this come from another country?"

Me:"Yes. England."

Him: "Then why is it all in English instead of a foreign language?"

Oh I know who their teacher was the last nine years and I'm going to have a word with HER!

We tried the candy. Yes, we sat and sampled all of it. Maybelline, Oatmeal Head, Little Guy and myself. Some of it is wonderful! Some weird. I didn't care much for the chocolate covered Turkish Delight, but then I've never been a fan. The Flying Saucers rock! They look and feel like communion wafers - those papery things some churches have - but there's a powdery innard, like a Pixie Stix. Mmmm! Maybelline offered to wear one for your viewing pleasure.

Oatmeal Head declared it a giant zit. Shiny.

The rest of the candy was fun. We chewed quite awhile on the caramel, which they call toffee. Heath Bars are my idea of toffee. But I love caramel, so I stashed the rest for later. And the gum! It's by Tesco, a Black Currant gum. An acquired taste. I think one of the children liked it, and I'm hoping the Hunny does. Interesting. :)

Oatmeal Head has already asked for the wrappers to take to school once the candy's gone.

The card is beautiful, a Martin Sexton watercolor of Norwich Cathedral. And the envelope almost made me cry. Look:

Can you see? It says Fred & Bessie's Mum. But I have no Fred & Bessie. I do hope you're keeping your eyes peeled for them. Though that imagery is a little gross. Sorry.


Again, I'm Being Held Hostage, thank you! You turned a rainy Thursday into the bright spot in our week!

Until I write again ...

Flea

New Eyes

Hey! I'm off to the optometrist for a fitting for my new contacts. I haven't worn contacts in nearly 20 years, but I thought that it was time to try them again. Well, I tried about 5 years ago, but the torics, for astigmatisms, didn't fit properly. Evidently my astigmatism's pretty bad.

My new optometrist - not a WalMart eye doctor - is fantastic. They went through an extremely thorough test. Twice. The real test will be whether or not I can handle being in contacts again.

So off I go! I'll let you all know, on the other end of this, how it goes. Oh! And our cheap prescription glasses from Zenni arrived on Saturday! Sixty bucks for the three pair! We like them, but Oatmeal Head says his are girl glasses. Oh, the hazards of not being able to try them first! I'll know this afternoon what his friends think. :)

Until I write again ...

Flea

A Job Well Done ... Well, Done

Man alive! If I weren't such a good wife (all together now - aaawwww!), I'd be upstairs taking pictures. My Hunny is replacing the children's toilet.


We purchased this house in December of '06. It was a foreclosure and had been a rental for about a decade. We got a great deal buying it "as is". It's enormous for us, at about 2,300 square feet, and the yard is huge! Big enough for vegetable gardens. That there is a picture of one of my bounteous cherry tomatoes from last year. Hee. But "as is" does not pertain to size.




Have you seen my dining room wall? I stripped the wallpaper when we moved in, only to find that the drywall had never been primed. What a mess! Yes, it is still a mess. It needs to be textured (I'll do it one day - honest) and wainscoted. But it is also the "Bad Day" wall, perfect for beginning artists. Or frustrated mommies. See the bare drywall toward the bottom of my daisy? Grrr.


When we purchased the house we knew we'd be replacing the carpets before moving in. It looked like someone had rebuilt an engine in the living room. And the house smelled like a rabbit hutch. While removing the carpet we found piles of gerbil food under the carpet in the upstairs bedrooms. But none of the under flooring smelled, so yay! And because of the cost of flooring an entire house, I had to settle for more carpet. Made me very sad. One day, though. One day, I'll have tile and wood. Really. With the carpet in, the house seems almost done.

But there have been consistent problems with the bathrooms in this house. The toilets both back up frequently. The upstairs bath has always had water on the floor somewhere, but with three kids showering, we've just assumed they were the problem. The shower faucet upstairs drips, and we've replaced the shower head. The sink, just today, was unclogged by the Hunny. Yay! Our bathroom - the one with the huge pink jacuzzi tub? - is butt ugly and its mother dresses it funny. Who on earth puts in a rose pink tub and counter? And blue wallpaper with pink roses! Ugh! The only water issue we DON'T have is the kitchen, where the Hunny has already replaced my faucet and disposal.

So the upstairs toilet, we find today, has a cracked tank. Just cracked enough to make small puddles every few minutes. Or large lakes when no one's up there. Which explains the water spots on my dining room ceiling! You! In the cheap seats! Stop laughing! And the Hunny decided that it had to be fixed TODAY. By him. So of course he drove to Lowes for a new potty.


Oh, what the heck. I'm giving you all pictures. You're friends. And you won't show anyone else, right? You love me. Really you do. Here's the progression so far: The boxes for the new toilet, in bone (I hate bone fixtures, but there's no white in that bathroom and I don't see us replacing everything any time soon).








Then the Hunny and Oatmeal Head installing the base. I can barely see Oatmeal Head in those camo pants. Do you see anyone there?



















Oh! And the old base, sitting in the tub. Attractive, isn't it? Eeeeewwwwww!!! I wonder who's cleaning up after all is said and done?













Here is the toilet, nearly done. Doesn't my Hunny look smart and productive? Not a plumber's crack in sight.














Aaaaaaannnnd .... the finished installation! Yay!!! Pretty. I wish you could hear these two as they work, making weird noises and laughing. Oatmeal Head will be 14 in a month and is enjoying working with dad to repair and replace around the house. And the two of them enjoying their guy humor. Makes a mama proud.

Guess what the Hunny is doing right now? Go on, guess! He's asking Little Guy to christen the new toilet! And it sounds like Little Guy is ready and willing. That's my boy! Well, until the Hunny told him they weren't leaving the room, and that mom would be up with the camera to document the first use of the potty. Boys will be boys. *sigh*






Until I write again ...

Flea

Thursdays

I feel the need to 'splain. Starting with Thursdays. Wait! No, starting with the last week.

Last week was our spring break. I was lazy. We took a road trip. I posted simple photos and didn't visit anyone online while I was away. It was awesome, being nearly unplugged. Then we got home. I've been slowly catching up, but my posts have still been pretty darn lame. There. That's the "last week" explanation.

Thursdays. I want to be witty and deep on Thursdays, really I do. And in my real life, I almost am. A friend and I walk our dogs at eight am, losing track of time and talking up a blue streak. That's the beauty of a good friend - when you're with them, even exercise seems effortless.

After our walk, we drag our dogs home in separate directions, but my friend and I meet up in a different location for a woman's Bible study. We're studying worship, focusing on stuff I struggle with, like responding emotionally to God. Okay, responding emotionally, period. The book we're using, Satisfy My Thirsty Soul, by Linda Dillow, is alright, actually getting better as we go, but I'm supplementing with C.S. Lewis' Reflections on the Psalms and The PAPA Prayer, by Larry Crabb, both excellent books. I'm learning a lot, but the point is to learn to feel as well, I think. Getting there. Definitely different from the grad class, but equally valuable for me right now. My best friend in the world, Jeni, would probably say that she sees all the little Fleas jumping out of me, feeling. She's more emotional than I am, but that doesn't take much.

About lunch time I zoom from that class to the fourth grade, where I try and meet my Little Guy for lunch (he LOVES that), then pop over to another fourth grade class where I spend the afternoon volunteering. This is the highlight of my week. I've gotten to know the kids a little, the teacher better, and best of all, I've fallen in love with school all over again.

Yes. I was an elementary education major in college, about a million years ago. I chose that major because I liked hanging out with little kids. Literally. I was emotionally stunted, I guess, because I spent recesses in high school hanging on the monkey bars with first and second graders. I also taught my baby brother to read at age three and thought that I was brilliant. Turns out he's the brilliant one, pursuing a PhD in microbiology.

In college I quickly discovered that I didn't like my major. Very Mickey Mouse was how I always described it. But by the time I got around to changing it I was starting my junior year. So I hung in there and got my degree. Alright, I failed aerobics twice and had to take a swimming class, after I moved to Maryland, in order to get my diploma. But I graduated, okay? And wanted nothing to do with schools. Walking into a school building, at that point, was nauseating. For years afterward I couldn't go into a school building. When Oatmeal Head was in third grade I had him tested for learning disabilities at the local elementary school. Just walking through those doors every time we went was really tough. I hated it. I think it's a large part of why I homeschooled for so long, that school-phobia.

So here I am in Tulsa, my children in public school, having a great experience, and I'm loving their schools. Every time I walk through the doors of either school, I feel all warm and fuzzy. It's a lovely thing. Even substitute teaching, so much like the days of student teaching, is fun. My love for learning, children, classrooms, is all being restored. And it ROCKS.

That's my Thursday. My Little Guy loves it because I take him home in the afternoon and he doesn't have to ride the bus. So we wind up running errands. So what? And by the time I get home, I do what I did yesterday, which to make an easy dinner and crash. Nothing else.

Fridays? Well, my Hunny is home today, so I'm going to get off the computer now and head upstairs, drag him off of his computer, and we'll go play in the garden. Did I tell y'all that it was 90 degrees here yesterday? Today's high is supposed to be 56. Still warm enough to garden.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Travel Pictures!

Thanks, Zobabe, for the check it out! If my sister weren't enjoying her 10th anniversary away somewhere north of me, I'm betting she'd be all over it. :) I know I will be when I get home.

For your viewing ... I hate to say pleasure here ... for your viewing, some pics of our travel time. Probably just like yours, but with different people. Am I right?



Here's Maybelline, fresh and ready to face her traveling day. Plugged in, ready to watch Jeff Dunham. Look him up. You'll laugh for days. Ventriloquist.



Oatmeal Head hates having his picture taken. Oh well. He's plugged in, but wound up sharing earbuds with his sister, enjoying Dunham. I love hearing the two of them belly laugh from the back seat.


Little Guy isn't fond of pictures either. Tough. For me. Here he after a brief potty break. Doesn't he LOOK relieved? I know - I can't tell either.


As long as I'm torturing you, here's the Hunny, driving. He didn't fall asleep once! We squishy heart the cpap machine! No sleep apnea problems here! Drive, Hunny, drive!


And Grandma, or k, as y'all know her in the comment section. She is a very stubborn woman and refused to sit in the front seat after the first leg of the trip. If she'll comply on the way home, I'll take a better picture.


Last, and certainly not least, are my sweet bovines. They seem to truly enjoy traveling. I know, I know. They're not wearing their seat belts. I'm a bad mommy. They were only out for a bit. Most of the time they were strapped in and sleeping sweetly. Cute little things.

Thanks for scrolling through all the boring pictures. Stop in next week for the final slide show! Kidding.

Until I write again ...

Flea

What About Bob?

I don't know about you, but I love my kitchen door jamb. Always have since becoming a mom. It's perfect for keeping track of my children's heights over the years. Sure, I had a Peter Rabbit Growth Chart, and a Veggie Tales chart, but nothing is like the door jamb. Granted, I can't just remove the frame when I move, taking it with me, but it my children never outgrow the door - or they haven't yet.

I just know that Brown Eyed Girl is going to give me grief for this. Look at this picture! What a scribbley mess! That M at the bottom is Maybelline, right after we moved in, at 5'6". Her mark hasn't budged in the last year. Then there's O for Oatmeal Head, at what looks like 5'7"-ish. I was complaining, about then, that he needed to stop growing. Partly because I'm 5'8", partly because I get tired of buying the boy pants. This isn't Florida, where he could wear his long shorts through several growth spurts. That first mark was a year ago this coming Sunday.

Above that is Oatmeal Head in May, two months later, at 5'8". Officially as tall as his mother, and 13 years old for only two weeks then. If you look, I marked and marked all summer and fall - probably every time I ran out to Ross to buy another two pair of four dollar camouflage pants - until two weeks prior to Christmas, when he came in at just under 5'11".

Tonight the Hunny and I were in the kitchen when Oatmeal Head walked in, all showered and looking for someone to bug - the boy has a perpetual grin - and grabbed the tape measure from the junk drawer. I had a pencil in hand, so I had him back up to the door. What a relief to find that my eyes do NOT deceive me! No need for new pants! Hallelujah! He's still only 13, and still just under 5'11"!!!

The Hunny was looking at the scribbley mess of a door, looking at all our heights, when Oatmeal Head says, "I'm the tallest one, except for Dad." pointing to the highest mark on the wall. See it? See the highest mark? I did my best to get a clear picture of it, but it's hard to read. It doesn't belong to any of us.

See, here's something that some of you already know about me: I'm very much a can't-see-the-forest-for-the-trees person. Which is to say, I only see what's directly in front of me, and only if I'm looking for it. NOT VERY OBSERVANT. I step over things because ... well, if they're on the floor, they must belong there. Right? The sock on the floor - it's there for a reason. It is not up to me to question why. Alright, I've learned to pick up socks. Sometimes. Occasionally. It's hard work for me to recognize that things aren't where they belong. Drives the Hunny abso-freakin'-lutely nuts.

Another thing you probably DON'T know about me is that I tend to be a little sentimental in general, in somewhat queer ways. The people who lived here before we did, who rented this house before the bank foreclosed (we got a great deal), left the marks of their own children's growth. I don't think that I am the one who scribbled some of them out. I would have just painted over them at the beginning if I'd wanted to be rid of them - brushed some Kilz over them. But I left them. I know those people will never come back here. They certainly won't ask for the door frame. I truly hope that someone in the family recorded their growth spurts in a book before they left. But I couldn't bring myself to cover the record of someone's family, even if it's growth measured in feet and inches.

So way up there at the top of the door is not the Hunny, but Bob. Bob. Who the heck is Bob? He's about 6'2", whoever he is. And it was amusing to hear Hunny and Oatmeal Head laughing about poor Bob. What's not so funny is that Oatmeal Head will likely be taller than Bob before we move out of this house. Let's see ... how many pair of camouflage pants do you think I'll have to buy by then?

Until I write again ...

Flea

A Lovely Afternoon

What better way to spend a breezy Sunday afternoon than in the garden? 'Twas a lovely day, perfect for spending it out of doors. It was so beautiful and perfect that I took pictures of our little outing. Oatmeal Head invited a friend, who had a wonderful time with our family. There were no tiny sandwiches, but the Hunny had a large iced tea. From Quick Trip. Would you like to peek in on our lovely afternoon? Do! By all means!

Here's the Hunny, enjoying his time in the garden, a leisurely time. Doesn't this look like fun? It's tons of fun. TONS. You should all come over and have fun with us. And me? Yes, I'm wielding the camera. I've already had tons of fun. But don't worry - I went back for more. I know you were worrying. :)

Oh, and he's tilling a plot for my butterfly perennial garden, right off my back porch, where I can see it from the kitchen and dining room. I've always wanted to buy one of those wildflower gardens in a box, and this year I did!

And here is our garden, in all its partially finished glory. Beautiful, isn't it? Our own little spot of heaven in Suburbia. The cement mixing bins are my herb gardens from last summer. You can't tell from this picture, but I had lavender, thyme, pot roast plant, oregano, chives and basil in just one of those. I was shocked to find that all but the basil are coming back. Basil's a tender annual, meaning it died an ugly death with the first little frost which came our way last fall.

The square, framed beds are the other half of last year's garden, having housed the tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, chili peppers, horseradish (still in there) and marigolds. We couldn't give enough of it away. Especially the tomatoes. We had a lot of rain last spring and summer - highly unusual here - and the garden flourished.

Here are Oatmeal Head and his buddy working hard. My Hunny found the cutest little tubes of sand at Ace Hardware! Aren't they cute? He didn't think they were, but he was glad to have them. Evidently we have very resistant soil, with a high clay content. Not like Atlanta or anything, but still not great for draining and vegetables. Or for weeding (ask my poor, shredded fingers last summer). So we add sand.

Know what? I just like seeing them all work. :) Look how hard they're working! Good boys! (Oh, that's the last of the poo we picked up on our trip to the farm) What a great garden this will be! Wanna know what we'll be planting? Here goes:

Corn, squash (yellow crookneck and zucchini), tomatoes (beefsteak, roma and cherry), herbs, peppers, cantaloupe, pumpkin (for pies!), lettuce, spinach, eggplant (I'll post the eggplant parmesan with fresh tomato sauce recipe this summer - mmmm!) and probably some other things. Oh, beans and peas. And probably some other things. I'm too tired to get up and go look. Sorry.

Here's a shot of the entire garden, viewed from the compost corner. And the ugly house in desperate need of repair and paint. Yes, that brown stuff is grass. The other brown stuff is dirt. And yes, we have a pretty big back yard for a city subdivision. I love living at the end of a cul-de-sac. :)

My fingers don't want to type anymore. I used the flat end shovel to edge the beds before Hunny tilled, then to edge again afterwards. I also used the rake. My fingers hurt. And guess what I'm doing tomorrow? Playing with four and five year olds all day! Yes, I'm substituting in a pre-k classroom! My favorite grade. I just hope I can get out of bed in the morning.

Anytime y'all want to come play in our garden, just let me know. Until I write again ...

Flea

Soon! I Promise!

I will be posting the winner and book selection later tonight. We've been invited to someone's home for snacks and games (leaving in a few minutes), and I want to find and listen to each of your songs again, so I'll be up late! If you see me on your gmail chat, IM me! :)

Until then, since this is a musical theme, I wanted to show y'all our new purchase. Oatmeal Head has been asking for lessons for awhile, as has my hopelessly rhythm-less Little Guy. We've been scanning the papers and Craigslist and finally found a set on the latter really cheap. Scandalously cheap. So cheap we didn't have a choice, cheap. The previous owner is in med school and needed the space for some real furniture in her little condo. And we have space in our bonus room! Works for me. Here it is, in all its glory:


Yes. Those are bongos on the window seat. Oatmeal Head and Little Guy have been smacking those for awhile, trying to prove to us that they have rhythm and are drum-worthy. Goobers. Jury's still out on Little Guy.


Oatmeal Head thinks his drum stick is a guitar. Something is seriously wrong here. What am I missing?


Ah! He's figured it out. I knew that boy had potential.


Good mommy that I am, I posted ALL these lovely pictures for your viewing pleasure! And look Aunt Marguerite! I don't think you could get a noisier gift for my children than the one I just bought them! Were I you, I'd go for messier maybe?

I really will post the results tonight. And I'll be catching up on everyone's blogs in the morning!

Until I write again ...

Flea

Family Lunacy

I've managed to capture a photo of the elusive poser, Oatmeal Head. Believe me when I tell you folks, this was no easy feat. I have many, many blurry shots, hat over the face, hand in motion toward the camera, and back of the head shots. It is so frustrating trying to photograph this teenage boy. But I got one!

His older sister, on the other hand, was very simple to capture. Promises of internet fame lured her easy smile, her twinkling eyes, and before I knew it, I had some wonderful shots of Maybelline in her natural habitat. The dining room. Isn't that a charming look?

Not to be outdone, she snatched the camera and took pictures of her mother. I begged, pleaded, cried, all to no avail. I was doomed to be captured on ... on ... a memory card. She got me.

The only one left to photograph, it seemed, was Little Guy. He was in rare form tonight, but I think I'll save him for another day. I fear the world can only take so much.

Until I write again ...

Flea