this is the scale you have to use when you eat too much on vacation
6.24.2006
you decide!
A couple of weeks ago, I had no kids and no Pastor, and I got to dress up and go to a nice Japanese restaurant with my friends. Yet that was NOT a vacation. However, the week I had to drive across country and be responsible for children WAS considered a vacation. Something just doesn't seem right about that.
dreamSICKle
Babies are invading my subconcious.
It was my last night of "vacation", and here is the dream I had.
I had given birth to a baby girl. Even though I had been pregnant, I was completely unprepared for the child. The Pastor was nowhere to be found in the dream. Presumably, his work had been done.
So I have a baby. I get up and nurse her in the morning. I take her to a daycare center, where I drop her off with no diapers and no bottles. I go back to my old job, and tell my former boss I have given birth and I'm ready to come back to work. I agree to go back to work the next day, even though I am aware that I have no plan for taking care of my baby and don't have things I need for the baby. Then I go perfume shopping. My breasts are engorged from not feeding the baby more. The daycare center text messages me to tell me my baby is in peril (YES THE WORD PERIL IS ACTUALLY IN MY DREAM) and is screaming and crying because she is so hungry. YET I CONTINUE TO SHOP FOR PERFUME WITH LEAKY BREASTS.
Oh my. My subconcious is completely selfish and void of maternal instincts.
I told the Pastor about my dream. He laughed and said I guess we know where you stand on more kids! I said hey mister! What about you? Where were YOU when I was trying on perfume and having this kid? Easy, he said. He was apparently working to pay for the perfume and the daycare.
He just has an answer for everything, doesn't he?
It was my last night of "vacation", and here is the dream I had.
I had given birth to a baby girl. Even though I had been pregnant, I was completely unprepared for the child. The Pastor was nowhere to be found in the dream. Presumably, his work had been done.
So I have a baby. I get up and nurse her in the morning. I take her to a daycare center, where I drop her off with no diapers and no bottles. I go back to my old job, and tell my former boss I have given birth and I'm ready to come back to work. I agree to go back to work the next day, even though I am aware that I have no plan for taking care of my baby and don't have things I need for the baby. Then I go perfume shopping. My breasts are engorged from not feeding the baby more. The daycare center text messages me to tell me my baby is in peril (YES THE WORD PERIL IS ACTUALLY IN MY DREAM) and is screaming and crying because she is so hungry. YET I CONTINUE TO SHOP FOR PERFUME WITH LEAKY BREASTS.
Oh my. My subconcious is completely selfish and void of maternal instincts.
I told the Pastor about my dream. He laughed and said I guess we know where you stand on more kids! I said hey mister! What about you? Where were YOU when I was trying on perfume and having this kid? Easy, he said. He was apparently working to pay for the perfume and the daycare.
He just has an answer for everything, doesn't he?
6.23.2006
do not disturb
I have stayed at six hotels in the past nine days.
That may be the definition of insanity.
The Pastor psychotically changed our hotel arrangements two of those nights, in a rather unexpected fashion. He decided we would rather stay at a castle surrounded by nature, NATURE, instead of being at a Best Western surrounded by a swimming pool and cable television (AND A STARBUCKS).
Do I look like the outdoorsy type to you?
On one of the days when he made an unexpected hotel change and left me with the kids to re-pack our suitcases and re-load up the van, he had his sister call me because he was wisely too chicken to try to converse with me. For some reason, he thought I might be unreasonable.
Have you seen what a van looks like when it's been loaded with luggage by children?
Other exciting stuff. I did get to eat pizza. I'm probably fat again. I also got to shop at a K-Mart. I have made the Pastor stop at every single Starbucks I have seen. I did not see any in Kansas.
Oh, one more thing. I have never gotten to stay in a hotel room ALONE WITH MY HUSBAND. Yes, we did go to England and did get to stay in a dorm-type room by ourselves, but stateside, in all the hotel rooms in all the cities we have been to, we have never been in a hotel room without children. Specifically, we have never been in a hotel room without the step-daughters. Sometimes we have been without Mr. Nate, but we have always had at least the step-daughters with us.
I want to stay in a hotel room alone with my husband.
I don't want to have to worry about who is going to wake up in the morning who is going to sleep on the roll-away or on the floor shuffling kids in and out of the bathroom waking up in time for the continental breakfast.
I want to be alone with my husband.
THAT would be a vacation.
That may be the definition of insanity.
The Pastor psychotically changed our hotel arrangements two of those nights, in a rather unexpected fashion. He decided we would rather stay at a castle surrounded by nature, NATURE, instead of being at a Best Western surrounded by a swimming pool and cable television (AND A STARBUCKS).
Do I look like the outdoorsy type to you?
On one of the days when he made an unexpected hotel change and left me with the kids to re-pack our suitcases and re-load up the van, he had his sister call me because he was wisely too chicken to try to converse with me. For some reason, he thought I might be unreasonable.
Have you seen what a van looks like when it's been loaded with luggage by children?
Other exciting stuff. I did get to eat pizza. I'm probably fat again. I also got to shop at a K-Mart. I have made the Pastor stop at every single Starbucks I have seen. I did not see any in Kansas.
Oh, one more thing. I have never gotten to stay in a hotel room ALONE WITH MY HUSBAND. Yes, we did go to England and did get to stay in a dorm-type room by ourselves, but stateside, in all the hotel rooms in all the cities we have been to, we have never been in a hotel room without children. Specifically, we have never been in a hotel room without the step-daughters. Sometimes we have been without Mr. Nate, but we have always had at least the step-daughters with us.
I want to stay in a hotel room alone with my husband.
I don't want to have to worry about who is going to wake up in the morning who is going to sleep on the roll-away or on the floor shuffling kids in and out of the bathroom waking up in time for the continental breakfast.
I want to be alone with my husband.
THAT would be a vacation.
6.19.2006
absence makes the heart grow blonder
I'm on "vacation".
I use the word "vacation" loosely, because what do I really have to be on vacation from anyway? Sitting around Starbucks? Reading magazines? Seeings how I just came off a week of having no Pastor and no kids, this does not seem like a vacation.
The Pastor got home last Thursday night from England. The Pastor is very smart. Smart because he just wrote and defended some big long paper about Kings and violence and Abimelech with a bunch of Hebrew words in it? Nope. He's smart because he knows to bring me presents even when he's only been gone for a week.
He got me a dress from my favorite little Indian (dot not feather) store. It's interesting because no self-respecting Sari-wearing Indian girl could get away with wearing this dress. The dress actually has an Armani Exchange label in it, even though I am 100% certain it is NOT Armani Exchange. Of course, Dr.-I-can-write-Hebrew-words-and-know-all-sorts-of-Bible-stuff had no idea what Armani Exchange is.
The night the Pastor came home we got Daughter #1 and Daughter #2 back. They came home with fake, hoochie fingernails. I can only assume the former Mrs. Pastor either thought 1. we wouldn't like the fake nails and she would somehow be irritating us and 2. she is helping to prepare the girls for whatever career they might have later in life where one might actually wear really long hoochie nails.
Personally, and I'm certainly not mom of the year, I wouldn't be inclined to super glue long sharp nails, a.k.a. weapons, on little girls who have a history of pinching and scratching.
Of course, I started off the vacation sick. I went to the doctor Thursday before the Pastor got home. I didn't really want to, but I was being kind and gracious. That is, kind and gracious to the other people who have to travel with me. I knew if I still felt bad when I got in the van and started driving across States, I might end up killing someone and that wouldn't really be nice, would it? Even if they deserve it.
In addition to the Upper Respiratory Infection, I also started off the trip by
menstruating which is nice that my body would do that a full week early, just for my va-ca. Of course what else could be expected from my body, the same body that gave me a period on my wedding night, the past two Christmas's and last vacation.
I use the word "vacation" loosely, because what do I really have to be on vacation from anyway? Sitting around Starbucks? Reading magazines? Seeings how I just came off a week of having no Pastor and no kids, this does not seem like a vacation.
The Pastor got home last Thursday night from England. The Pastor is very smart. Smart because he just wrote and defended some big long paper about Kings and violence and Abimelech with a bunch of Hebrew words in it? Nope. He's smart because he knows to bring me presents even when he's only been gone for a week.
He got me a dress from my favorite little Indian (dot not feather) store. It's interesting because no self-respecting Sari-wearing Indian girl could get away with wearing this dress. The dress actually has an Armani Exchange label in it, even though I am 100% certain it is NOT Armani Exchange. Of course, Dr.-I-can-write-Hebrew-words-and-know-all-sorts-of-Bible-stuff had no idea what Armani Exchange is.
The night the Pastor came home we got Daughter #1 and Daughter #2 back. They came home with fake, hoochie fingernails. I can only assume the former Mrs. Pastor either thought 1. we wouldn't like the fake nails and she would somehow be irritating us and 2. she is helping to prepare the girls for whatever career they might have later in life where one might actually wear really long hoochie nails.
Personally, and I'm certainly not mom of the year, I wouldn't be inclined to super glue long sharp nails, a.k.a. weapons, on little girls who have a history of pinching and scratching.
Of course, I started off the vacation sick. I went to the doctor Thursday before the Pastor got home. I didn't really want to, but I was being kind and gracious. That is, kind and gracious to the other people who have to travel with me. I knew if I still felt bad when I got in the van and started driving across States, I might end up killing someone and that wouldn't really be nice, would it? Even if they deserve it.
In addition to the Upper Respiratory Infection, I also started off the trip by
menstruating which is nice that my body would do that a full week early, just for my va-ca. Of course what else could be expected from my body, the same body that gave me a period on my wedding night, the past two Christmas's and last vacation.
6.11.2006
oh, I forgot
I was being so focused on others in my previous post, I completely FORGOT to be self-centered (how unlike me!) and mention that I have now lost 15 pounds. I have officially met my weight-loss goal.
Does that mean I can finally quit exercising?
Does that mean I can finally quit exercising?
big, shiny, chunky spit-up
bear with me for a minute -
I took Nathan to the big, shiny church this morning. It made me sad.
It made me sad that all the kids who went to the Pastor's church this morning (he's in England, btw) probably didn't have breakfast. Or clean clothes. Or a ride to church. In fact, they probably went to church so they could have the free lunch.
The kids who live in the neighborhood where the Pastor's church is will probably never get to see the big, shiny church. We have horrible bus service here, and I do not believe there is even a bus stop anywhere near the big, shiny church. Those kids will never get to see all the special kid stuff, because even if they did manage to get on a bus and take it as close as they could to the big, shiny church - they'd still have to walk for miles, and once they got there with no adult (they come to church parentless) then there would be no one to fill out all the parental paperwork and check them in and out of the high-tech security system. Kids going to church by themselves don't usually have to worry about security - nobody cares about where they are anyway, like someone is going to come and snatch them out of church???
And at the big, shiny church - with the light show and the coffee and the music and all the fancy stuff, ironically the sermon was about ENVY. Me, being judgemental, thought what do THESE people have to envy? Driving their SUV's to the big, shiny church in the neighborhood of homes with pricetags of $300,000+??? When there are kids not five miles away who are envying people who have food and safety and a stable environment???
moving on
I made a donation to charity this week. I bought the People magazine with the Brangelina baby pics in it. That pretty baby makes you want to jump over the fence and have another baby, but I guess once someone has had Brad Pitt's baby, the novelty has worn off. But no one has had the Pastor's baby, I could be the first. Hmmmm.
Have you ever noticed how the rudest most obnoxious most annoying people are also coincidentally the loudest?
A note to my fellow patron at Starbucks this morning. No, Nate and I do not care that your baby started eating cereal this week. And that she didn't want to wear her headband. While we are having a nice Sunday morning breakfast and quietly playing a game of Boggle, we do not wish to hear how your baby's spit-up is now chunky. Thankfully, it was Starbucks, so I was eating a donut and not oatmeal or something like that. I can also hear you say to your group of friends that you don't even like coffee. I for one sure am glad you decided to go ahead and join them anyway. Thanks for being a little ray of sunshine in my morning.
I am sitting at the computer in the Pastor's office. I am making, yes making, FORCING my child to READ A BOOK. He is in great pain over this. I am, in case you didn't already know, the meanest mom in the world. I am mean, mean mom, and I graduated from mean, mean mom school.
I took Nathan to the big, shiny church this morning. It made me sad.
It made me sad that all the kids who went to the Pastor's church this morning (he's in England, btw) probably didn't have breakfast. Or clean clothes. Or a ride to church. In fact, they probably went to church so they could have the free lunch.
The kids who live in the neighborhood where the Pastor's church is will probably never get to see the big, shiny church. We have horrible bus service here, and I do not believe there is even a bus stop anywhere near the big, shiny church. Those kids will never get to see all the special kid stuff, because even if they did manage to get on a bus and take it as close as they could to the big, shiny church - they'd still have to walk for miles, and once they got there with no adult (they come to church parentless) then there would be no one to fill out all the parental paperwork and check them in and out of the high-tech security system. Kids going to church by themselves don't usually have to worry about security - nobody cares about where they are anyway, like someone is going to come and snatch them out of church???
And at the big, shiny church - with the light show and the coffee and the music and all the fancy stuff, ironically the sermon was about ENVY. Me, being judgemental, thought what do THESE people have to envy? Driving their SUV's to the big, shiny church in the neighborhood of homes with pricetags of $300,000+??? When there are kids not five miles away who are envying people who have food and safety and a stable environment???
moving on
I made a donation to charity this week. I bought the People magazine with the Brangelina baby pics in it. That pretty baby makes you want to jump over the fence and have another baby, but I guess once someone has had Brad Pitt's baby, the novelty has worn off. But no one has had the Pastor's baby, I could be the first. Hmmmm.
Have you ever noticed how the rudest most obnoxious most annoying people are also coincidentally the loudest?
A note to my fellow patron at Starbucks this morning. No, Nate and I do not care that your baby started eating cereal this week. And that she didn't want to wear her headband. While we are having a nice Sunday morning breakfast and quietly playing a game of Boggle, we do not wish to hear how your baby's spit-up is now chunky. Thankfully, it was Starbucks, so I was eating a donut and not oatmeal or something like that. I can also hear you say to your group of friends that you don't even like coffee. I for one sure am glad you decided to go ahead and join them anyway. Thanks for being a little ray of sunshine in my morning.
I am sitting at the computer in the Pastor's office. I am making, yes making, FORCING my child to READ A BOOK. He is in great pain over this. I am, in case you didn't already know, the meanest mom in the world. I am mean, mean mom, and I graduated from mean, mean mom school.
6.08.2006
maybe baby
I have never ruled out the possibility of having more children. However, lately I’ve really been thinking I am done. When the Pastor and I talk about it, I’m more and more leaning towards not having any more and just allowing the ones we already have to annoy us.
but…
until…
I think I found a reason, a thing that makes me want to jump to the other side of the fence.
Mannies.
(male + nannies)
I think I should have a baby so I can hire a Manny.
Why a Manny is perfect for me:
1. The Pastor would love it because having another male around the house would give him a break from being one of the men who has to give me constant adoration.
2. It would irritate his former spouse, knowing that her children are in part being cared for by a Manny.
3. I saw a quote from Sarah Jessica Parker about how Mannies are cool, so what more reason do I need?
Sounds like a great thought process behind bringing another child into the world.
Speaking of children:
My niece, Kat, is in town. Kat is rare – one of the few children who exist in the world who are not biologically mine and do not annoy me. I love her dearly, even though she is only 11 and already has bigger breasts than I do. She made the observation the other day that I must really like having step-daughters because now I finally have some daughters and I’m so good with girls.
Fast forward a few hours later, which I am caring for said step-daughters. I am fixing Loretta’s hair. BEFORE I AM EVEN DONE PULLING IT BACK IN THE CLIPPY, she tells me it is UGLY. No “thank you”, just the impolite comment. And I’m not even finished! So I took the clippy out of the hair, and told the Pastor I’m sorry, but Loretta will be going sans hairstyle today, because she has temporarily lost the privilege of me fixing her hair. Since I was doing such a bad job, I’m sure she didn’t mind.
Speaking of children:
The Pastor is gone. The kids are gone. I am all by myself, just like the bad 80’s pop song says. There is no one at my house to watch Disney’s “High School Musical”, or as we refer to it “the greatest movie ever made.”
but…
until…
I think I found a reason, a thing that makes me want to jump to the other side of the fence.
Mannies.
(male + nannies)
I think I should have a baby so I can hire a Manny.
Why a Manny is perfect for me:
1. The Pastor would love it because having another male around the house would give him a break from being one of the men who has to give me constant adoration.
2. It would irritate his former spouse, knowing that her children are in part being cared for by a Manny.
3. I saw a quote from Sarah Jessica Parker about how Mannies are cool, so what more reason do I need?
Sounds like a great thought process behind bringing another child into the world.
Speaking of children:
My niece, Kat, is in town. Kat is rare – one of the few children who exist in the world who are not biologically mine and do not annoy me. I love her dearly, even though she is only 11 and already has bigger breasts than I do. She made the observation the other day that I must really like having step-daughters because now I finally have some daughters and I’m so good with girls.
Fast forward a few hours later, which I am caring for said step-daughters. I am fixing Loretta’s hair. BEFORE I AM EVEN DONE PULLING IT BACK IN THE CLIPPY, she tells me it is UGLY. No “thank you”, just the impolite comment. And I’m not even finished! So I took the clippy out of the hair, and told the Pastor I’m sorry, but Loretta will be going sans hairstyle today, because she has temporarily lost the privilege of me fixing her hair. Since I was doing such a bad job, I’m sure she didn’t mind.
Speaking of children:
The Pastor is gone. The kids are gone. I am all by myself, just like the bad 80’s pop song says. There is no one at my house to watch Disney’s “High School Musical”, or as we refer to it “the greatest movie ever made.”
guess who ate the cake?
Me and the Pastor went to P.F. Changs to celebrate his b-day early, since he will be out of the country on his big day.
That's ok though, his birthday is just a reminder that I married a younger man. Wait a minute, what am I saying? It's totally ok that I married a hot, younger man!
That's ok though, his birthday is just a reminder that I married a younger man. Wait a minute, what am I saying? It's totally ok that I married a hot, younger man!
parfait night
fat free angel food cake + fat free pudding parfaits
We can only have angel food cake. No devil's food for the Pastor.
Oh, and cute plaid sundress.
We can only have angel food cake. No devil's food for the Pastor.
Oh, and cute plaid sundress.
Independenate
Nate is in a summer program where he is learning valuable life skills, like how to cook. He made dinner for the fam the other night.
6.05.2006
Coincidence? I think not!
After 10+ years in the making, the Pastor is off to England on Wednesday to defend his doctoral dissertation.
At least that is what he tells me he is doing.
I think it's his secret plan to avoid a week of pms.
The good news is that since he's married to ME when he finishes his doctorate, guess who gets to take the credit for it?
At least that is what he tells me he is doing.
I think it's his secret plan to avoid a week of pms.
The good news is that since he's married to ME when he finishes his doctorate, guess who gets to take the credit for it?
Buber, Lincoln & Noodling
the Pastor, on one visit to the Public Library, checked out:
1. Book on Martin Buber - google this guy to see what a hottie he is! I totally do NOT get it. I/Thou, It, You, it's all a bunch of goobledy-gook.
2. Book on Abraham Lincoln.
3. Video on Noodling - the sport of catching Catfish with one's bare hands. I totally do NOT get it. It's all a bunch of goobledy-gook.
I'm married to one weird guy.
1. Book on Martin Buber - google this guy to see what a hottie he is! I totally do NOT get it. I/Thou, It, You, it's all a bunch of goobledy-gook.
2. Book on Abraham Lincoln.
3. Video on Noodling - the sport of catching Catfish with one's bare hands. I totally do NOT get it. It's all a bunch of goobledy-gook.
I'm married to one weird guy.
5.29.2006
do you see
why girlfriend needs to visit her hairdresser?
Oh, and check out the cake. I don't know why I didn't just go buy one like a normal person!
Oh, and check out the cake. I don't know why I didn't just go buy one like a normal person!
one of the rare occassions...
when I took the kiddos out to McDonalds
Oh, believe me, it was a BIG DEAL.
Nate looks a bit skeptical though.
Oh, believe me, it was a BIG DEAL.
Nate looks a bit skeptical though.
curiousity is the cure for boredom, but there is no cure for curiousity
The house is clean.
The laundry is done.
The kids are gone.
My nails are painted.
I've already been to Starbucks.
The Pastor is working.
I have the whole place to myself.
Am I relaxed?????
No! I am BORED BORED BORED BORED BORED.
Bored.
Feeling somewhat anxious that I might be having a flashback of last summer, when either we had the kids and it was chaotic and I wanted to poke out my eyes or we didn't have the kids and I wanted to poke out my eyes out of sheer boredom.
The Pastor is not home because he is working on our rental properties, but its just as well since he's mad at me anyway. We had a scheduling conflict on our calendars. My hair appointment is scheduled for the same time that we are suppossed to be signing mortgage refinancing paperwork. And apparently the Pastor is of the belief that I think my hair appointment is more important than the re-fi.
I cannot imagine why he would think a thing like that.
I thought he liked my pretty hair.
Must. find. something. to. do. Must find something to do which does not involve eating, because after all I have lost the weight and look fabulous. Except for my hair. Expect more blogging.
The laundry is done.
The kids are gone.
My nails are painted.
I've already been to Starbucks.
The Pastor is working.
I have the whole place to myself.
Am I relaxed?????
No! I am BORED BORED BORED BORED BORED.
Bored.
Feeling somewhat anxious that I might be having a flashback of last summer, when either we had the kids and it was chaotic and I wanted to poke out my eyes or we didn't have the kids and I wanted to poke out my eyes out of sheer boredom.
The Pastor is not home because he is working on our rental properties, but its just as well since he's mad at me anyway. We had a scheduling conflict on our calendars. My hair appointment is scheduled for the same time that we are suppossed to be signing mortgage refinancing paperwork. And apparently the Pastor is of the belief that I think my hair appointment is more important than the re-fi.
I cannot imagine why he would think a thing like that.
I thought he liked my pretty hair.
Must. find. something. to. do. Must find something to do which does not involve eating, because after all I have lost the weight and look fabulous. Except for my hair. Expect more blogging.
5.25.2006
pucker up
My throat hurts.
So last night, when we went to Red Robin for older daughter's b-day, I ordered a Speckled Lemonade, which is a fancy strawberry lemonade.
This particular beverage costs $4. Yes, I am aware that is a great deal of money for a drink, particularly since
1. this drink does not contain alcohol
2. this is not at Starbuck's, where everyone knows it is perfectly acceptable to pay upwards of $4 for a lovely coffee beverage and enjoy it with a $1.50 donut
Anywho, you get UNLIMITED REFILLS on this drink. The Pastor starts guzzling down my lemonade, taking drinks at every opportune moment. Did he want lemonade? NOOOOOOOO, because if he did he would have ordered some, wouldn't he have? Does he even have strong feelings of love for lemonade? No! The bottom line is that if the Pastor is going to pay for a $4 drink, we are going to drink as much of it as humanly possibly, even if our lips pucker and our tummys and bladders are full, including asking for a to-go cup of it on our way out the door.
On the way home, I finally asked the Pastor to stop drinking my drink. I said "do you EVEN want that"? Because I DO. So I would like for you to stop worrying about my $4 drink and let me enjoy my lemonade.
Oh, and by the way - this restaurant is a fancy burger joint and every single one of the kids ordered pizza. But that's a whole other blog entry.
So last night, when we went to Red Robin for older daughter's b-day, I ordered a Speckled Lemonade, which is a fancy strawberry lemonade.
This particular beverage costs $4. Yes, I am aware that is a great deal of money for a drink, particularly since
1. this drink does not contain alcohol
2. this is not at Starbuck's, where everyone knows it is perfectly acceptable to pay upwards of $4 for a lovely coffee beverage and enjoy it with a $1.50 donut
Anywho, you get UNLIMITED REFILLS on this drink. The Pastor starts guzzling down my lemonade, taking drinks at every opportune moment. Did he want lemonade? NOOOOOOOO, because if he did he would have ordered some, wouldn't he have? Does he even have strong feelings of love for lemonade? No! The bottom line is that if the Pastor is going to pay for a $4 drink, we are going to drink as much of it as humanly possibly, even if our lips pucker and our tummys and bladders are full, including asking for a to-go cup of it on our way out the door.
On the way home, I finally asked the Pastor to stop drinking my drink. I said "do you EVEN want that"? Because I DO. So I would like for you to stop worrying about my $4 drink and let me enjoy my lemonade.
Oh, and by the way - this restaurant is a fancy burger joint and every single one of the kids ordered pizza. But that's a whole other blog entry.
5.22.2006
van-driving Shekemites and the Wizard of Oz
1. Bible stuff is so deep in my sub-concious that I am having bible scholar dreams involving Shekemites. I don't even know what a Shekemite is. I don't even know if I am spelling it correctly. I am not going to look it up. I've wasted too much time on Shekemites already if I am dreaming about them.
2. Let me introduce you to the world's sexiest van driver. Me. As if it wasn't bad enough that I had to have one of those milestone birthdays, I had to become a van driver in the same week. Actual intersection incident:
me, driving in van, by myself
car, next to me, full of guys
me, minding my OWN BUSINESS, willing for the stoplight to change from red to green
guys next to me: "WOW, she is HOT! She must be driving her mom's van!"
Oh, if they only knew!
3. Let me introduce you to the world's sexiest bike rider. Me. It's blue and has a pink horn and a pink basket for my invisible magical puppy dog. If only the Pastor didn't hate small animals, I could ride around around with a real To-To.
4. I've lost thirteen pounds. It's a radical new concept: eating healthier and exercising. BUT but but before you can lose the weight, the first part of the process is that you have to gain 13 pounds.
2. Let me introduce you to the world's sexiest van driver. Me. As if it wasn't bad enough that I had to have one of those milestone birthdays, I had to become a van driver in the same week. Actual intersection incident:
me, driving in van, by myself
car, next to me, full of guys
me, minding my OWN BUSINESS, willing for the stoplight to change from red to green
guys next to me: "WOW, she is HOT! She must be driving her mom's van!"
Oh, if they only knew!
3. Let me introduce you to the world's sexiest bike rider. Me. It's blue and has a pink horn and a pink basket for my invisible magical puppy dog. If only the Pastor didn't hate small animals, I could ride around around with a real To-To.
4. I've lost thirteen pounds. It's a radical new concept: eating healthier and exercising. BUT but but before you can lose the weight, the first part of the process is that you have to gain 13 pounds.
5.18.2006
the lady is a tramp
OK, jumping on the trampoline is more like it.
Having a matching problem with my outfit, but what would Carrie Bradshaw do?
Having a matching problem with my outfit, but what would Carrie Bradshaw do?
the Pastor and I slightly disagree...
I think I should drive something LIKE THIS.
He thinks I should drive a van.
Guess who wears the pants in our family?
He thinks I should drive a van.
Guess who wears the pants in our family?
Mommy & Me
I was the only mommy who matched my outfit to my child's dance costume.
OK, it was a total coincidence.
OK, it was a total coincidence.
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