tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83772989073358086742024-03-12T22:25:35.517-05:00what passes for sane on a crazy daynotes from the edge...Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.comBlogger259125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-3373899330838040712013-08-19T13:08:00.000-05:002013-08-19T13:08:27.224-05:00The one where some things come to an end<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So, all good things must come to an end and I guess this blog is just one of them. I'm going to be taking this blog down soon, and only writing my author blog. I'd like to incorporate more things about my family on that blog, along with author news. I think it makes for a more well rounded, interesting blog. But it's hard to say good bye to this one. It's seen me through some scary times, and some awesome times. And I feel like I've made valuable friends in the blogging world. So I'm hoping that you all move with me to <a href="http://www.staceyturner-authorspot.blogspot.com/">The Author Spot.</a></div>
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There's also a good chance that I'll be making a book with many of the posts from this blog. So, if you would, I'd be really happy if you'd tell me what your all time favorite post was, so I can be sure to include it.</div>
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I want to thank all of the bloggy friends who've been with me since close to the beginning. Those of you who kept me in their hearts and thoughts when things got tough, and those who celebrated happy moments with me too. Your friendship has meant the world to me. And I'm sorry I don't get to your blogs as often as I like. Hopefully by combining both blogs, I'll free up a little time to visit you all at yours.</div>
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Again, thanks so much! And please come check out and follow the other blog so we don't lose each other!</div>
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Love,</div>
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♥Spot
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Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-68526091551916796522013-02-01T09:52:00.003-06:002013-02-01T09:52:30.881-06:00The one where Sean and I are ridiculous...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I know what you're thinking ... which post aren't Sean and I ridiculous in? And you're right. We're pretty ridiculous on a regular basis. But some incidents of ridiculousness just scream, "Blog me!" And I have two of those for you today.<br />
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One day a week or so ago (it was a Wednesday, not that it matters), Sean and I drove CJ back to his house in Macomb. Someone usually rides with me because I get a little teary when I drop him off and if I have to drive the hour back home alone, I get more than a little teary. So, more often than not, Sean rides along to distract me. Because he's a sweetie like that (but don't tell anyone because it will ruin his street cred).<br />
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So, after dropping CJ off we decided to swing through Jimmy John's and get sandwiches to take home for dinner. After I park, I realize Sean is not making any move to get out of the car.<br />
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Me: Aren't you going in with me?<br />
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Sean: Why?<br />
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Me: I don't know what you want.<br />
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Sean: The same thing I always get.<br />
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Me: Can't you just come in?<br />
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Sean: *huge sigh like I'm killing him* Fine.<br />
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Now, by that "fine," I know something is up. And as I swing open the door to JJ's~<br />
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Sean: *very loudly* Well, I'm not the one who sells my body for money!<br />
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Me: *quickly thinking* How else was I going to pay for your gender re-assignment surgery?<br />
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All conversation had stopped in Jimmy John's and I turned to the counter to see everyone's mouth hanging open. We got some weird looks, but they certainly made our subs quick. The moral of this story is A) making Sean do something he doesn't want to do ALWAYS has consequences and B) if you're going to hang with us, you better have lightening fast mental reflexes. I like to thing that evening's work went quickly for those JJ employees since they had something so juicy to discuss.<br />
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And yesterday Sean and I got tattoos. I got a special one in honor of CJ. My favorite tattoo artist designed a Claddagh symbol using the autism puzzle pieces for the heart and put CJ's initials in for me. And I got a little star for Dylan added to my foot tattoo. Sean got Marvin the Martian on his leg. His Dad has one there and so does his Uncle.<br />
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My CJ tattoo</div>
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The purple stars represent my children, so I added a little blue star off of Mo's star for Dylan.</div>
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Sean's Marvin.</div>
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If you're near the Quincy area and need a tattoo, I can highly recommend <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Pleasurable-Pain-Tattooing/73681749891?fref=ts">Pleasurable Pain</a>. Jerry is a fantastic artist, everything is sterile, and they're nice guys. Mo has had all five of her tattoos there, I've had three of mine, and Sean's had his two done there. </div>
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So we go in to get our tats and we're a few minutes early. So Jerry is working on paperwork and Sean and I sit there quietly. But on his laptop he's got Youtube up and so I start watching the video for the song that's playing. To see the video, click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VurhzANQ_B0">here</a>. It was Avenged Sevenfold's <i>A Little Bit of Heaven</i>.
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Then I look at Sean and we both chuckle. Jerry turns around and I say~</div>
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Me: Your choice of songs leaves me vaguely uneasy.</div>
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Jerry: Why? What do you listen too?</div>
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Me: Pretty much everything. It's the video for this one ...</div>
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Jerry: What? Having sex with dead people is weird?</div>
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Me: Funny story. (At that point, <em>he</em> looks uneasy) I'm actually putting out a book of zombie erotica. And after reading the vast amount of submissions for it, necrophilia actually doesn't sound weird to me.</div>
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Jerry: *laughs* I bet a lot of people will read that book. Someone told me the other day I looked like the kind of guy who keeps dead girls in his basement.</div>
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Me: I don't think so. Besides, looks are deceiving.</div>
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And it works out that I'm going to take copies of <em>50 Shades of Decay</em> to his shop to sell. You just never know what kind of networking will pay off. But later, after Sean gets his tattoo, I get mine. And just as Jerry starts, Sean gets a phone call and walks outside. He comes back in and this conversation ensues~</div>
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Sean: Are you doing work emails?</div>
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Me: Um, no?</div>
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Sean: You are the only person I know who can work through getting a tattoo.</div>
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Me: Well you weren't here to talk to me and distract me, so it seemed like a good way to distract myself. By the way, I'm really thirsty. So if you go outside again can you get my soda out of the car?</div>
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Sean: I wasn't planning on leaving you.</div>
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Me: You just did.</div>
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Sean: Yeah, I meant again.</div>
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Me: Why? I think I'll be fine. Granted, that might be how little girls disappear. But those are skinny young girls, not chubby grandmas in their forties.</div>
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Sean: Ha! You're a grandma getting a tattoo! *he and Jerry both laugh* And besides, those girls don't disappear; they're in his basement. </div>
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At which point I start giggling and get admonished to "hold still."</div>
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And that my friends, is a glimpse into our ridiculousness. I kid you not, it knows no bounds. </div>
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And for those who may not have seen Mo's last tat- here's a picture. I told you Jerry does great work!</div>
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Yes, it is HUGE. She better not have too many more children or her whole body will be covered!</div>
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Hugs to you all,</div>
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♥Spot</div>
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Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-17701731684191450822012-12-17T13:20:00.000-06:002012-12-17T13:20:36.529-06:00The one where I'm mistaken for a fugitive on my birthday...So, as many of you know, Saturday was my birthday. I'd flown out to California on Monday to return my grandbaby to his parents and visit their new home. The baby was a good traveler, he seemed to like riding on the airplanes and it was a good experience. We had a lot of fun in California. We visited fisherman's wharf in San Francisco, Old Sac Town in Sacramento, toured the base, saw the home they'll be moving into on December 27th (so much nicer than any base house my family lived in and definitely nicer than the apartments Mike & I started out in), ate good food, hung out and generally had a great time.<br />
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It was hard to leave. It was hard to say goodbye to my baby and her baby. Dylan has lived with us since he was born and it was like leaving two pieces of my soul out there. Mo and Boo. So I cried. But then I bucked up and Sean and I made our way through TSA and to our gate. Where we found out our flight would be delayed an hour because of a storm in Ontario (where the flight was coming from). Ugh. No one likes flight delays. I approached the desk to let them know that I had a connecting flight in Las Vegas and would be cutting it short on time. They assured me I'd make my connecting flight, but I might not get to board with my "A" pass, meaning that Sean and I might not get to sit next to each other. Fab. <br />
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Sean, not being the experienced world traveller that I am, was not happy. So we decided to tour the airport gift shops, where we bought trashy magazines and sour patch kids. These helped pass the time and take care of his crankies. Finally, we boarded our aircraft. They'd oversold the flight, so every seat was taken. Including the one next to me in our row. And, has everyone forgotten airplane etiquette? Is it not rude to promptly put both of your elbows on the armrests so you can text on your phone? Excuse me, sir, I might have wanted to use that armrest. You could have at least asked.<br />
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Also, there's turbulence. A lot of it. This doesn't bother Sean and I at all, but it does slow the plane somewhat. And then we land. And sit on the airplane, on the tarmac, because they haven't got a free gate for us. The time before my connecting flight leaves is ticking away. I'm beginning to get annoyed.<br />
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So what should have been a lovely hour and a half lay over in Vegas (plenty of time to have a drink and drop some money on the slots) has turned into a mad dash to our connecting flight ten gates away. We bob and weave through the crush of other travelers to arrive at our gate, sweaty and out of breath, only to find that they are delaying the flight for twenty minutes. So I get us a place and Sean runs to the sandwich shop (we haven't eaten in 8 hours and no, I don't count airline peanuts). He returns in the nick of time with two turkey sandwiches, a coke, and a look of sheer surprise. Turns out he didn't realize that two sandwiches and a coke could cost $24. Haha. <br />
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So we're lining up to board, while a harassed and frazzled looking airline worker is helping those in wheelchairs on board. I notice one little old lady sitting neglected (and surrounded by other travelers) in a wheelchair some distance from the desk. I asked her if she'd like me to wheel her closer so the attendant wouldn't forget her. At her nod, I did. Turns out, when the attendant checked her ticket, she was on the next flight. Oops.<br />
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We get on board, and once again the plane is full. The guy who sits next to me this time also commandeers my arm rest. WTF? And his bony elbow happens to be digging into my side for most of the ride. Not cool. But we get there. And Mike is waiting for us and he has roses.<br />
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He seems really alert and chipper so he gets to drive and after a brief stop for sodas, we're finally on our way home from St. Louis. We talk about the trip and Boo. But after an hour and a half, I can tell he's getting sleepy. So I suggest he pull over and I'll drive. So on the outskirts of Hannibal, Mo, he pulls into a closed gas station and we play Chinese fire drill.<br />
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Back in the car, I drive through Hannibal and I'm nearly to the turn off for the bridge to Illinois, when a cop in the oncoming lane flashes his lights at me. Huh? Then he pulls a u-turn and turns on his lights. So, slightly bewildered, I pull over. He comes to the car and I hand him my license and registration. <br />
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Cop: What are you doing in town tonight?<br />
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Me: Travelling home from St. Louis.<br />
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Cop: So you're just passing through? You didn't stop anywhere?<br />
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Me: Um, well, we stopped at a gas station to change drivers because he was sleepy.<br />
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Cop: Shining his light in and looking at Mike & Sean: Did you see anything at that gas station?<br />
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Me: No. They were closed.<br />
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He asks for Mike & Sean's IDs too. WTH? I can tell he's suspicious but can't figure out why.<br />
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Cop: Well, ma'am, you were speeding. You were doing 52 in a 35.<br />
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Me: Was I? I'm sorry. I should have been paying more attention. Shit. I haven't had a speeding ticket in 18 years!<br />
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Cop: Well, that's better than me. But the fact is you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We got a call about a fight at the gas station you passed and everyone scattered when the police showed up. When I saw you speeding, I thought you might be one of the people fleeing the scene.<br />
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*Seriously? I have a suit jacket on. Do I look like the kind of person who flees the scene of a fight at a gas station?!*<br />
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He takes our IDs back to his car and I burst into tears. Mike and Sean kind of chuckle. <br />
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Me: Remember the birthday where we were driving home and the tire fell off the van?<br />
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Mike: Yeah, it hit a barn.<br />
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Sean: See? It's not the worst birthday ever!<br />
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Me: Not by a longshot. But I'm so tired and I just want to go home.<br />
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I mop up the tears and the cop comes back.<br />
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Cop: I'm so sorry about this. You were just speeding in the wrong place at the wrong time. You've got a great driving record, you've been very pleasant, and I noticed it was your birthday. I feel like a jerk giving you this ticket, but once I write it, it's set in stone. I'm really sorry.<br />
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Me: It's not your fault. But do you have to keep my driver's license? I'm going to Florida on Friday...<br />
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Cop: Oh, no, we don't do that in Missouri. Man, then I'd really feel bad, keeping your license when you were going on vacation.<br />
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And so he gave me my ticket and we drove off. $125 dollars poorer. And the end of my safe driver's discount. And as we drive off~<br />
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Mike: Just so you know, we do have a shotgun in the trunk.<br />
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Me: WTH??!! You mean I was riding dirty?<br />
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Mike: It's Porky's. We're going hunting in the morning and he forgot it. I stopped by and picked it up for him. It's not illegal to have an unloaded gun in the trunk.<br />
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Me: Oh. Well at least they didn't bring out the drug dogs.<br />
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Sean: That would have been funny as hell, sitting on the sidewalk while the drug dogs searched your car after the day we've had. At least you have a story to tell.<br />
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Me: Yeah. And you're welcome fugitives who really were fleeing the scene. F*ckers. They probably all got away while the cop was busy with me.<br />
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Sean: let's just pretend tomorrow is your birthday. <br />
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And so we did. I slept til 10 and then I talked to my Dad and to Molly. Then Sean and I watched four movies in a row. And a documentary on Doomsday Cults. And we ate take out. So it worked. We kind of figured out that I only have good birthdays every five years anyway. So I'm anticipating 45, that's when the next one is due.<br />
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Happy Travels, everyone. I'm off to Florida on Friday. Wonder what kind of trouble I'll get into along the way...<br />
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♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-23655677195943405962012-10-14T16:41:00.000-05:002012-10-14T16:44:16.062-05:00The one where I share a funny story...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm not going to apologize for my absence (although, I am sorry), I'm just going to relate a funny story. Please note that names have been changed to protect the guilty. Because, well, really, the innocent never do anything they need protecting from, do they? But I didn't change Sean's name, because let's face it, you'd know it was him anyway.<br />
<br />
Sean has a friend, we'll call him Jethro. And Jethro has just begun seeing a new girl (no, I don't know her name). Well, once upon a time (a few weeks ago) in a land far far away (or 30 minutes anyway) new girlfriend's evil (or slightly misguided) ex-boyfriend comes to her house and begins making an ass of himself (as young boys often do). New girlfriend calls Jethro in tears. Unfortunately, Jethro is stuck in a land farther away, running errands with his father. What to do? Jethro calls in other heroes to save new girlfriend. Namely, Sean. Sean agrees that this is a problem and since another friend, we'll call him Roscoe (yes, I do know it's a silly name. pay attention, would you?), is already on his way to Sean's house, he phones him up and tells him they have a fair maiden to save so he should drive "double time." (Honestly, I don't know what driving "double time" means and I'm pretty sure I don't want to know.) But apparently, Roscoe is some kind of stunt driver akin to those in the Fast & Furious movies and he gets to our house much more quickly then normal (but, thankfully, all in one piece).<br />
<br />
Now, we have two back up heroes who speed to the damsel in distress' house. They walk around the house and notice two groups of people. One group includes our fair lady, her friends, and possibly siblings (these details are a little thin) and the other group includes young men set on douchebaggery, the evil ex and his minions. Our heroes assess the situation and then:<br />
<br />
Sean: Are you Jethro's fair maiden?<br />
<br />
Fair Maiden: Yes (this may or may not have been said with tearful hopefulness)<br />
<br />
Sean: Okay. Then which one of you jerkwads (this may not be the exact wording) is starting trouble?<br />
<br />
*No reply*<br />
<br />
Sean: We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way.<br />
<br />
*Evil ex is pushed forward by now uncomfortable henchmen*<br />
<br />
Roscoe: We need to have a talk with you.<br />
<br />
*Sean and Roscoe approach Evil ex*<br />
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Roscoe: Now this can go down one of two ways. The first way is you apologize and leave quietly. The second is much more violent and doesn't end well for you, except that you still apologize and leave.<br />
<br />
*Evil ex blusters for a minute*<br />
*Sean pulls Roscoe aside*<br />
<br />
Sean: *speaking in very loud whisper intentionally trying to be overheard* I think we're going to have to bash some skulls.<br />
<br />
Roscoe: I was hoping you'd say that...<br />
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Evil ex: Yeah, okay, whatever, we're leaving. Mumbled apology. *The villain and his minions retreat*<br />
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Fair Maiden's brother: Wow. Jethro really did send his friends.<br />
<br />
*Our heroes begin walking back around the house to their vehicle*<br />
<br />
Someone in crowd: Wait, good sirs, what are your names?<br />
<br />
Sean: *thrown casually over his shoulder* Starsky and Hutch.<br />
<br />
<br />
And that, dear friends, was your story for today. I'll try to be more frequent with my postings. <br />
<br />
♥Spot</div>
Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-90246479716752505072012-07-25T16:04:00.000-05:002012-07-25T16:04:43.705-05:00The one where I get interviewed...You guys are not going to believe this, but I'm going to be interviewed and featured on this site: <a href="http://www.mommypage.com/">Mommy Page</a>. I know, you're all wondering if they actually read my blog before picking me. That was my initial thought too. Then I thought maybe I was being punked. Because, I hear you all saying, "But, Spot, you're more like the anti-Mommy." I know, right? But they must have read my blog because the interview questions actually pertain to a post or two. And those questions? Man, they're hard. I'm freaking out just a little. But don't tell anyone, it would ruin my image.<br />
<br />
So I'm definitely going to do the interview and I will let you all know when it is up; hopefully, you'll find a minute or two to sneak over and check it out, leave me a little comment love, and generally promote a site that apparently doesn't want to be preachy or "cookie cutter"ish. Let's face it, if they did, they wouldn't touch my blog with a ten foot pole. I mean I've openly admitted to not knowing where my children were every minute of every single day; letting them endanger their health by climbing tall trees, handling snakes (okay, so I totally did not encourage that, quite the opposite), riding without pads or helmets; and snarking at them. But, hey, they survived and became mostly functioning members of society (provided you don't ask Lu where any European countries are located or think that plans for total world domination is an odd life plan for a guy).<br />
<br />
I've also stated numerous times that I'm looking forward to my children vacating the premises. I get really funny looks for that one sometimes. And it makes me wonder if people think they want their kids to live with them forever. And if they do, what kind of accident was it that caused the head injury that knocked your screw loose? Because, let's face it, no matter how close you are to your offspring (and anyone reading this blog knows that I'm nearly super glued to mine), there comes a time when you want some space. And I'm not talking about locking yourself in the bathroom for ten minutes with your fingers in your ears, refusing to converse with anyone standing outside the door. (You know you've been there, don't try to deny it.) And after raising them up, I deserve some "me" time. Or better yet, some "me & mike" time. So while I love them dearly, and will cry copiously the day they move out, I will also do a secret (okay, now that I've put it in writing maybe not-so-secret) happy dance.<br />
<br />
They need the chance to blossom. Lu needs her own house so that two adult women with different ways of doing things aren't trying to survive in the same kitchen. Sean needs to not have me cook for him, clean his room, balance his checkbook, and amuse him on a routine basis. They need to flaunt their independence, make some mistakes, and become fully adult. Do I wish they weren't both moving half a continent away? Definitely. But I also know that there's nothing much around this area for them. We've always raised our children to want to get out of dodge and find their own niche in the world. I'll miss them like crazy (especially my adorable grandson) but there are cell phones, skype, and air travel. I'll make use of them all. Frequently.<br />
<br />
And Mike & I? Well, I need time to devote to work and not feel guilty about neglecting the family. We both need a little less stress and a little more downtime. And we need more couple time. <br />
<br />
And guess what? Lu & Sean took baby Dylan to visit his dad in Texas. So the next six days are a practice run at being empty- nesters. I'm only 8 hours in, Lu's called once already, but I'm kind of liking this silence thing. Just me and six sleeping cats. I'll let you know how it goes...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-56456800381454572622012-06-13T11:22:00.000-05:002018-07-26T11:24:09.631-05:00The one where I have a nighttime visitor...Okay, so remember the last post where I had to interrupt my movie and walk through the dark, scary woods dodging werewolves? Well, you'd think a girl would get a break after that, wouldn't you? Nope.<br />
<br />
I finally make it back to the couch and turn my movie back on. I get settled in all comfy and start enjoying the movie. Then the weird noises start. Let's remember I'm already on edge. Well, a couple of times I thought I heard a door open, like one of the inside doors, maybe to Mike's office, and I figure it's just Sean getting home from Scouts. Except I didn't hear his car pull up or the outer door open. And each time I get up to check--no one is there. So I tell myself it's just the cats pawing at the door to the downstairs because they don't like being shut down there at night.<br />
<br />
Then I hear a scratching at the back door. And I figure it's just our outside cat, wanting to come in. So I try to ignore it. Then it becomes a frantic, scratching, loud noise. So I get off the couch and walk to the back door. The kitchen is pretty dark, only the light over the stove is on and it's dark outside. It sounds like the stupid cat got itself stuck between the screen and the door. So I open the door. (You were all screaming at your screens, yelling, "DON'T OPEN THE DOOR!" weren't you?)<br />
<br />
Well, I did. I looked down at the animal at my feet and, in the time it took me to realize that it was not my black and white cat, it took my measure and darted between my legs, racing through the kitchen.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgad7YoloVsEBEAJ3q6ebeLakLFKxBoRpJAIpmpncqgysFSkVvhumiX3MpOwFhYhjBCxf2XvPC20g5D9-p_8cgz3y-F9LBP5LE5wMRQrjwr1Grs9pqA3V19hNZ2gY20jxbhV-bhhgRB_9k/s1600/Raccoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgad7YoloVsEBEAJ3q6ebeLakLFKxBoRpJAIpmpncqgysFSkVvhumiX3MpOwFhYhjBCxf2XvPC20g5D9-p_8cgz3y-F9LBP5LE5wMRQrjwr1Grs9pqA3V19hNZ2gY20jxbhV-bhhgRB_9k/s200/Raccoon.jpg" width="200" /></a></center>
"Holy shit! There's a raccoon in my house." That's what came out of my mouth. Luckily, the raccoon had pretty much trapped itself in the hallway. The outside door was shut, the downstairs door was shut, Mike's office door was shut, and I threw the baby gate up to keep it out of the kitchen. Because, obviously, that's going to stop it. So I hop the baby gate, walk into the dark hallway and flip on the lights. The raccoon has climbed the door frame so it's eye level with me and I'm only a foot away from it. I'm not sure who was more freaked out, me or the raccoon.<br />
<br />
Me: Shhh. It's okay little guy (little guy? This thing was bigger than my biggest cat and he's huge.) I'm not going to hurt you, okay? Let's just figure out how we can get you back inside.<br />
<br />
So I run to the phone.<br />
<br />
Sean: Hello?<br />
<br />
Me: Where are you?<br />
<br />
Sean: On the gravel, almost home. Why?<br />
<br />
Me: There's a raccoon in the house!<br />
<br />
Him: Shit! Okay. I'm almost there. Stay away from it, those things are vicious.<br />
<br />
Me: I've got it trapped in the hallway.<br />
<br />
So he hangs up. I go into the kitchen to look for some food and grab a piece of cheese. (Don't even ask why that was what I grabbed) Visions of the scene in ET where they lure him inside with Reese's Pieces float through my mind. (And why don't I have Reese's Pieces just lying around?) I take the cheese to the raccoon and kind of wave it in front of him. Then I tear it into pieces and make a trail from where he is around the corner and to Mike's office, thinking if I get him that far I can open the door and shoo him out. Then I climb up on Mike's desk to wait. No movement from the raccoon.<br />
<br />
Sean comes busting through the door and says,<br />
<br />
Sean: Where is it?<br />
<br />
Me: around the corner on top of the door frame.<br />
<br />
Sean: Do you know how it got in?<br />
<br />
Me: Um. Well, yeah. It knocked, and I let it in.<br />
<br />
Sean: *giving me his patented "you're the stupidest person on the face of the planet look"* You let it in?<br />
<br />
Me: Um. Yeah. I thought it was the cat.<br />
<br />
Sean: It doesn't look anything like the cat.<br />
<br />
Me: It was dark!<br />
<br />
So he starts to walk around the corner.<br />
<br />
Sean: Holy hell, what happened to your cheese? It's all over the place!<br />
<br />
Me: I was trying to lure the raccoon. <br />
<br />
Sean: With cheese?<br />
<br />
Me: It's in the rodent family, right?<br />
<br />
*again with the look*<br />
<br />
Sean: Get in the kitchen.<br />
<br />
He opens both doors to Mike's office. And gets a broom from my pantry. I hop the baby gate into the kitchen.<br />
<br />
Me: What are you going to do?<br />
<br />
Sean: I'm going to knock it off the door frame and chase it outside.<br />
<br />
Me: You can't knock it down! It'll get hurt.<br />
<br />
Sean: No it won't. They're like cats, it'll land on it's feet.<br />
<br />
And then he yells, "HUZZAH!" And he knocks down the raccoon, chases it through Mike's office with the broom, hitting it in the butt, and onto the steps, where he does some crazy victory dance.<br />
<br />
Me: Well, I don't think we have to worry about him coming back. He's probably telling all his buddies not to go to the big house. That crazy lady tried to feed him cheese.<br />
<br />
Sean: No. Now it's going to be like a right of passage for all the teenage raccoons. Dare you to go up to the house and scratch at the door! And then they'll run away.<br />
<br />
Me: F*ck. I'll constantly be opening the door and nothing will be there.<br />
<br />
The movie? Oh yeah. I finished it the next day. And while this happening was hilarious, the raccoon party on my deck the next night was not. They dug through all of my pots and threw dirt everywhere. Thankfully, I'm such a procrastinator that I hadn't even planted anything yet. (Go me!) They also managed to knock over a garbage can and get the garbage everywhere. So I had to go get a tough one, with a strong lid and bungee cords to hold it down. And I'll fix their "pot" parties. I've got a topsy turvy planter. Take that, raccoons! <br />
<br />
Moral of the story? That's not always opportunity knocking on your door. Sometimes it's local wildlife.<br />
<br />
<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-41865837581592827992012-06-08T14:08:00.000-05:002012-06-08T14:09:50.147-05:00The one about werewolves and corndogs...<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGJaMgAhu45Png-d_7STJt8QZtIODiJHR7d2dUxdwX1MzANZ_hef_P48p9dXwkPBF0O2qbwmqn09TM2J2k6F4yATnaazilVs9e8-zv2xtTiilpmG6I6CR0KyrbW8d6e_NUSjIzHQi4Xg/s1600/werewolves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGJaMgAhu45Png-d_7STJt8QZtIODiJHR7d2dUxdwX1MzANZ_hef_P48p9dXwkPBF0O2qbwmqn09TM2J2k6F4yATnaazilVs9e8-zv2xtTiilpmG6I6CR0KyrbW8d6e_NUSjIzHQi4Xg/s200/werewolves.jpg" width="156" /></a>
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<----These kind of werewolves. Not these kind of werewolves---></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8oW8mWSGiGsW-hQX_06uhY6htNMf8bUhNq37tpEOQLpX1w-SF0YlFQ_kCY80Lk8TQGvobmZxXxwlSuzqOxdnf9ONIXVXwfEWMY29x9L6drCApeMtG8HAGtBmIUhj23vhcK63xEwZs488/s1600/Werewolves2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8oW8mWSGiGsW-hQX_06uhY6htNMf8bUhNq37tpEOQLpX1w-SF0YlFQ_kCY80Lk8TQGvobmZxXxwlSuzqOxdnf9ONIXVXwfEWMY29x9L6drCApeMtG8HAGtBmIUhj23vhcK63xEwZs488/s200/Werewolves2.jpg" width="200" /></a>
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I know. Right now you're sitting there wondering what the french toast werewolves and corn dogs have to do with each other. Don't get ahead of yourself. All shall be revealed.</div>
<br />
So Mike left Sunday night for Camp Eastman. They're doing a new joint crew week this year and he and Phil ended up being the crew weeks two deep leadership. In non-Scout speak: Mike had to go hang out with the ranger at the other camp and watch over the 8 boys who had come up for crew week. They'd spend half their week up there and half their week down here, doing projects for both camps and then having some fun time too. I'm used to Mike being gone a lot so I didn't figure it was a big deal. Except that, inevitably, the weird shit always happens when he's not here to deal with it. Like the time the limescale remover that he told me to put in my dishwasher actually ate the dishwasher and turned my kitchen into a lake. Or how he left me the first week we moved out here and being a city girl, I'd never heard coyotes. I nearly wet myself in fear. But it's whatevs. He's got a job to do.<br />
<br />
So I'm sitting alone Monday evening. Sean is at a scout meeting and Mo & Dylan have just gone to bed. I fire up the DVR to watch a Lifetime movie (don't judge, it was about an artist who talked to an imaginary friend), and I'm maybe twenty minutes in when the phone rings. It's Mike.<br />
<br />
Mike: Sorry. I know the baby is in bed. But is Sean there?<br />
<br />
Me: It's Monday night. He's never home on Monday nights. (you'd think the man could get this schedule down. Sean's only had scouts on Monday nights for the last like 9 years.)<br />
<br />
Mike: Shit.<br />
<br />
Me: What do you need?<br />
<br />
Mike: I needed him to go down and unlock the Cook's Cabin.<br />
<br />
Me: Why?<br />
<br />
Mike: The DE who was going to move in last week just called to see if I'd unlock it, but I told him I was up here. So he said he'd stay in Polar Bear as originally planned, but I think I locked it when NYLT left this weekend.<br />
<br />
Me: Okay. I'll go down and unlock it. Which key is it?<br />
<br />
Mike: You'll have to check that yellow sheet and find it.<br />
<br />
Me: What yellow sheet?<br />
<br />
Mike: The one on my desk. Or maybe the other desk. It's there somewhere.<br />
<br />
Me: It's on top the printer. Alright, got the key. Do you have a flashlight somewhere? It's hella dark out there.<br />
<br />
Mike: Um, somewhere. But the outside lights on the cabin and dining hall are on so you should be okay.<br />
<br />
So I go out and get in the car and drive down to the parking lot, where I find the gate closed and locked. At this point, I have two options. I can drive back to the house, call Mike and try to find the key to the gate, or I can just walk the rest of the way to the Cook's Cabin and unlock the door. I figure walking will be faster. Its about five feet into my walk that I realize it really is hella dark out. And I'm alone in camp. And there are dark woods everywhere. First, I start to wonder if coyotes or raccoons ever attack people. Then I start to worry about snakes. Then, as I'm passing the health lodge, there's a large commotion behind it, and I can make out the bushes shaking fiercely. Then I start to think about werewolves (again, no judging! I watched Teen Wolf that night). Then I speed up my pace and keep glancing over my shoulder. Then it dawns on me that is EXACTLY what people in horror movies do just before something really bad happens to them! CRAP. So I hurry to the safety of the lights of the dining hall, cross to cook's cabin to find...the damn door is already unlocked. WTF?<br />
<br />
So I turn around and start the trip back to my car. I'm still uneasy and glancing around nervously. I mean, I have to walk right past the health lodge again. And by now, it's dawned on me that if a werewolf sees me, I probably look like a corn dog to him. I'm plump, juicy, awkward and slow. Might as well be meat on a stick. Yep, I'm the fair food of the werewolf diet. Fabulous.<br />
<br />
I'm now also slightly pissed off. I made a wasted trek through the scary, dark woods at night. I get home and call Mike back.<br />
<br />
Me: So the gate's locked.<br />
<br />
Mike: No it's not. It's just dummy locked to make it look locked. <br />
<br />
Me: Well I couldn't get it open.<br />
<br />
Mike: Yeah you have to blah...blah...blah.<br />
<br />
Me: Don't you think that would have been pertinent information to give me before I went down there?<br />
<br />
Mike: oh, um, yeah?<br />
<br />
Me: *Dramatic pause for effect* The damn cabin was already unlocked! I walked, WALKED through the dark to the cabin for you and it was already unlocked. You're lucky werewolves didn't eat me.<br />
<br />
Mike: I was afraid of that. Wait? What? Werewolves?<br />
<br />
Me: You thought the cabin might be unlocked and you didn't even tell me that? Do you know what I look like to a werewolf?? A corn dog, that's what!!<br />
<br />
Mike: *laughing* A corn dog? *more laughter*<br />
<br />
Me: You owe me big time, mister!<br />
<br />
Mike: *still laughing* Okay, pumpkin. I love you.<br />
<br />
And the best part? That was only the beginning of the night of weird shit. I'll write about the rest of my evening later. And no, I never did get to finish the damn movie.<br />
<br />
Stay away from werewolves and dark woods,<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-39693924041657177292012-06-03T14:12:00.000-05:002012-06-03T14:14:56.359-05:00The one where I set the toaster on fire...So I was going to go with Lu's plan to save the economy, but then we had a toaster catastrophe. And me blogging about it might save lives. Which would make me a hero. And heroes are awesome. Which makes me = awesome. <br />
<br />
It started out like a typical Friday morning. I got up, stumbled to the kitchen for some coffee. I decided to eat some raspberry pop-tarts. I'd actually bought them for CJ's visit because he really likes raspberry pop-tarts, but then he didn't eat any while he was here, so I thought I would. Well, turns out they were the last two in the box. Who ate them, you ask. I'll give you two guesses and his name starts with "M" and ends with "ike." I was glad I was going to at least get these ones since after that they'd be all gone.<br />
<br />
So I put the pop-tarts in the toaster and pushed down the little knob thingy that drops them down in there and causes the wires to heat up. (Does anyone even know what that knob thingy is called??) And then I went into the living room to talk to Sean because he'd gotten home after I fell asleep the night before. I figured I'd hear the toaster pop back up. So we talked. And after a while I realized that the toaster was taking a really long time to warm up two pop-tarts, so I walked around the corner into the kitchen.<br />
<br />
There was smoke rolling out of the toaster. I knew my pop-tarts were probably black and I was slightly annoyed. But as I got closer to the counter, flames started to shoot out of the toaster. Did I mention that the toaster was sitting under my wooden cabinets?! I'm not going to lie- I started freaking out. I rushed over. I knew I couldn't just dump water on it (because toasters are electrical appliances, duh). So I wanted to unplug it, but I couldn't remember which cord went to the toaster and which went to the coffee pot beside it. So I freaked a little. And then I hollered.<br />
<br />
Me: Sean!! The toaster is on fire! Help!<br />
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Lu: *walking down the hallway, sees the kitchen* Holy shit! The toaster's really on fire!<br />
<br />
Me: That's what I said!<br />
<br />
Sean: *strolling leisurely (and I do mean leisurely) into the kitchen* Wow. The toaster is on fire.<br />
<br />
Me: Did you think I was making it up?!<br />
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Sean: Unplug it.<br />
<br />
Me: *yanking out both plugs, because really, why does it matter if I unplug the coffee pot too?*<br />
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Sean: *picks up the flaming toaster* I'm gonna need you to get the door. *I open the door and he walks out onto the deck, down the stairs and sets the flaming toaster in the wet grass calm as can be* I'm going to need a glass of water.<br />
<br />
Me: *running back inside for water. I come back out and he's casually lighting his cigarette off the flames still pouring out of the toaster* Here!<br />
<br />
End of story: He dumps water on the toaster and the fire is put out. My poor pop-tarts (the last ones of their kind) are lumps of charcoal, not to mention soaking wet.<br />
<br />
When I asked both kids about their startling lack of urgency when I shouted, "the toaster's on fire," they told me they figured maybe a crumb in the bottom was smoking, but that they didn't really expect flames. Apparently, the panic in my voice wasn't enough of a clue.<br />
<br />
In case you're wondering, the cabinets were fine. Not even a burn mark or anything on the underside. Sean's calm demeanor and quick thinking saved the day. And the smoke wasn't that hard to get out of the house. <br />
<br />
And we do have a fire extinguisher in our house. It was conveniently located about two feet from the flaming toaster, in the pantry. If the cabinets had caught fire we would have been forced to use it, but those things are messy and slightly toxic. I'm glad it didn't come to that.<br />
<br />
Did I mention my house has wooden siding? Did I mention that I'm petrified of fire? (I'm going to blame villagers with flaming torches and pitchforks in a past life for that one.) So it was a mere toaster catastrophe, but it could have been worse.<br />
<br />
Do you know what it says on the Pop-Tarts website in big bold red letters? This:<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Due to possible risk of fire, never leave your toasting appliance or
microwave unattended</span></em></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">Who knew?! Well, now we all do.</span><br />
<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-60869314223632577432012-05-31T11:33:00.000-05:002012-05-31T11:35:47.898-05:00The one where I get a cool catch phraseWow. There's some serious cleaning up to do in here. Cobwebs, dust, a stray spider or two. And nothing but a lonely echo when I speak. I know, I know, my fault. And I've made my excuses before so I won't rehash old ones. But I miss this blog. I miss the fun and the friendship from the readers. I miss chronicling the daily BS that my family puts out. And all of my oldest readers know- that's a lot of BS. So I'll try to be more regular, catch you up, and go from there.<br />
<br />
To get us started, here's an excerpt from a conversation Sean and I had at midnight the other night. (Don't ask why we were talking at midnight- it's because even as adults, my children feel the need to tell me about their night when they come home. Never mind that it's midnight and I'm exhausted and the only reason I'm still up is because I can't sleep when they're not home.)<br />
<br />
Sean: You need a catch phrase. Like mine- "You cannot defeat me!" (said in a loud and carnival barker like voice, with one hand raised in the air and one leg propped up on my bed. Think the "Captain Morgan" pose).<br />
<br />
Me: Why?<br />
<br />
Sean: Everyone has a catch phrase. Even CW.<br />
<br />
Me: CW has a catch phrase? What is it?<br />
<br />
Sean: CW, slayer of Elk.<br />
<br />
Me: Why Elk? We don't even have elk around here.<br />
<br />
Sean: It's from some online game he plays. I guess he had a sword and ran around killing the elk in the game.<br />
<br />
Me: Your friends are strange.<br />
<br />
Sean: Duh.<br />
<br />
Me: How about Stacey Turner, Head of Awesomeness?<br />
<br />
Sean: That's a title not a catch phrase.<br />
<br />
Me: How about Stacey Turner, Slayer of Gnomes. I hate freakin garden gnomes. They creep me out. Who knows what they're plotting while they are out in your yard at night. *involuntary shiver*<br />
<br />
Sean: I like it. You should buy some garden gnomes and take a picture of you and the shattered pieces. You can borrow my sword.<br />
<br />
Me: No. It would be better to kill them with random objects. Like a cheese grater.<br />
<br />
Sean: You could pose in every room in the house. <br />
<br />
Me: Like in the kitchen I could be shoving one upside down in the blender. Or menacing one with one of those old egg beaters that you crank.<br />
<br />
Sean: And strangling one with the shower hose in the bathroom.<br />
<br />
Me: That would probably make a great blog: Defeating the Gnomes. If you posted a picture a day, people would tune in just to see them.<br />
<br />
Sean: So we need to put Garden Gnomes on the shopping list.<br />
<br />
Me: But they have to stay locked in the garage until we slay them. I'm not taking any chances.<br />
<br />
Sean: This is great. It's good to see you being creative again. Sometimes now, you're just a little too grown up for your own good. All business, no play.<br />
<br />
Me: Um, maybe that's because I'm running my own company. It's kind of a lot of work.<br />
<br />
Sean: "In a world full of cheerios, be a fruit loop." Do you know who said that?<br />
<br />
Me: Yes, Spot said that. God, I love Spot.<br />
<br />
Sean: You said that. You are Spot.<br />
<br />
Me: I know, right? I think I'm going to get a t-shirt that says "I ♥ Spot" and wear it to KillerCon in Vegas. It will be like wearing a shirt that says "I ♥ Me," only cooler. When people ask me, "what's Spot?" I'll say, "exactly."<br />
<br />
Sean: Maybe you need to get some sleep.<br />
<br />
Me: So get out of my room. <br />
<br />
And that's how we came up with my new catch phrase. "I am Spot, slayer of Gnomes!" <br />
<br />
It's good to be back. Tune in next time for more ridiculousness and how Lu's going to save the economy.<br />
<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-88817118156471101452012-01-19T11:24:00.000-06:002012-01-19T11:24:41.811-06:00The one where he now belongs to the USMC<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_ogQecFEBT4tHwVlPzJEWyD_jBr6COL92UggeTQ-T12Nc7Zdfx4Vd9mi153yVsxf4kxeudsTzws8MFStwQxX1iwlkB4z3FmnG2Gt9eGJpeiHC0iHg865ocSwWntWpe_4Mkia2GOgP6g/s1600/th_usmc_small.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_ogQecFEBT4tHwVlPzJEWyD_jBr6COL92UggeTQ-T12Nc7Zdfx4Vd9mi153yVsxf4kxeudsTzws8MFStwQxX1iwlkB4z3FmnG2Gt9eGJpeiHC0iHg865ocSwWntWpe_4Mkia2GOgP6g/s320/th_usmc_small.gif" width="160" /></a></div>I don't even know what to call this post. That's how my whole week has rolled. Tuesday I couldn't even tell you what day of the week it was. First I thought it was Monday and then I thought it was Thursday. WTF, me? And then Tuesday night- the bomb dropped. I was making supper and Sean and Mike had just walked in.<br />
<br />
Sean- I heard from the recruiter today. He called and said he had good news.<br />
<br />
Me- Oh yeah? What?<br />
<br />
Sean- I have to go to MEPS tomorrow, I'm swearing in on Thursday.<br />
<br />
Me- *sputtering* But...what...all your waivers?*He had to get a waiver for his wrist tattoo because it wasn't an inch from his wrist. He had to get a waiver for his home school diploma. It's been nothing but a pain from the beginning.*<br />
<br />
Sean- All went through. I'm in.<br />
<br />
Me-*mouth hanging open, still stuttering* but...but...<br />
<br />
Sean- No buts! All I need now is for my job assignment and ship out date to come down.<br />
<br />
And then he went off to take a shower.<br />
<br />
Lu- Why do you sound so surprised? You knew this was coming.<br />
<br />
Me- Well, I mean, they kept jerking him around, and the Air Force tried to steal him, and he had a plan B and it was a good plan. And now he's leaving!<br />
<br />
Lu- Again, you knew this was coming.<br />
<br />
Me- You don't get it yet, but you will in eighteen years. *Pointing at baby Dylan* He's my baby. And now he's leaving home. And you should know that after you leave things are never the same. And he's joining the service, the Marines no less, and he could get sent to Afghanistan and die.<br />
<br />
Let me first say that I have nothing against the Marines. Except that they are the first in. They lose more military personnel every year. Sean knows this. Sean doesn't care. And despite an IQ and test scores that qualify him for Intelligence jobs, Special Ops, or millions of other things, Sean wants to be Infantry. First in. He's wanted this since he was six. Seriously, six. And while I admire the determination and his fire, as a Mom, I'd like him to have a nice behind the scenes job. Like, stateside. But I know that isn't his dream and I have to support his dream, regardless of what my dreams for him might have been.<br />
<br />
Also, I was raised in an Air Force family, so it's hard to switch loyalty. Which only military people will understand. <br />
<br />
I'm not sure anyone in the family gets it. Sean thinks I'm not proud of him. And that is far from the truth. Sean is amazing. I couldn't be more proud of him. And I am proud that he wants to serve his country. And I'm proud that he's confident and independent and nothing I say would talk him out of this. I'm glad he's going for his dreams. But I can be proud and glad and happy for him and still be sad for me.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong-- I'm totally looking forward to all of my chicks leaving the nest. I know that the house will be cleaner, quieter and easier to take care of. Mike and I will have some quality time together and I won't have so many distractions from writing. I'm not one of those people who are scared to death of what they'll do when they have an empty nest. Not anymore. I have a career and outside interests. I have friends and hobbies. Mike and I have plenty to talk about besides the kids. Our trip to New Orleans proved that we can still be "just Mike & Stacey" and enjoy it.<br />
<br />
But I will miss my chicks like nobody's business. I will miss the loud chaotic craziness of five adults and a baby living in the same house. I will miss talking out a story line with the kids or insane dinner conversations. I will miss having partners in crime. I will miss sarcastic banter (Mike's not so big on the sarcasm). Who will explain quantum physics to me, for gosh sakes? <br />
<br />
I'm excited for the kids to start their lives. I know, living at home, they both feel like they are kind of in limbo and waiting for "their real lives to begin". And I understand that. And I'm excited for "the rest of my life" to begin. I'm excited for the next stage in Mike & I's relationship to begin. I'm excited to lay on the couch, after a long day working, and not have to keep turning the TV up, in order to hear it.<br />
<br />
But I'm sad too. I'll miss those chicks. They are my kids, my chicks, my spawn. But they are also some of my best friends. So sending them off is bittersweet. It's the culmination of my life's best work. Nothing I achieve from here on out, can ever compare to raising confident, intelligent, responsible adults. I devoted the last 21 years of my life to it and seeing it come to fruition is supremely gratifying. And terrifying. But mostly, gratifying.<br />
<br />
So I'm going to have a glass of wine at dinner tonight. And I'm going to toast- Sean on the beginning of his journey, and to me- in the next phase of mine.<br />
<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-79284598765037646532012-01-10T11:44:00.000-06:002012-01-10T11:44:21.676-06:00The one where we wrap up the year...Hello? *peers anxiously out at the audience* Anyone out there? *taps microphone* Is this thing on? Oh! Wait, there you are! Shout out to my stalker, Michigan. Didn't think I knew your name, did you? Yeah, I have mad stalker skills of my own. Or, well, ok, Sean told me. Anywho, for anyone still out there reading my rambling, few and far between posts, Happy New Year (a few days late). <br />
<br />
I know I don't post as often as I should, but I've got my reasons. Mostly, I'm super busy and distracted. And it's not that funny shit doesn't still happen all the time at my house, I just forget it before I can blog it. Sad, but true. And then there's the fact that so many people that know me (in real life) read my blog that it's kind of awkward to put some stuff on here. And mostly, they're pretty awesome peeps but some just look for gossip. (You know who you are and you should probably get a more interesting life of your own so you don't have to try to ruin mine). Whew, I've been wanting to get that off my chest.<br />
<br />
So, a whole 'nother year flew by. Seriously, it feels like it was <strong>whoosh</strong> and there went 2011. Why does time seem to go so much faster as you get older. Does it really speed up or is our perception skewed? The answer probably has something to do with quantum physics and the space time continuum. I'd ask Sean, but you know my eyes would glaze over and all I'd hear was "blah blah blah". I'm going to go with it actually does go faster, because to admit that it was my perception would be like admitting these lovely "silver" highlights in my hair were actually greys and that I'm aging. Which I think is totally unfair because most days I don't feel a day over 21. Well, mentally. Physically, some days I feel 100. Wait? Where was I?<br />
<br />
Oh yeah, a new year. 2011 was eventful. I mean, like ginormously eventful. My oldest, CJ, graduated from his school and turned 21. Lu had a baby and got married!! And my baby, Sean, turned 18, travelled across the continent twice and joined the Marines. I don't have children anymore, I have adults. How weird is that? Mike was hospitalized, twice. I had gallbladder surgery (good riddance!), a skin cancer scare and started a whole new career. And Mike & I finally took a trip, all by ourselves. See what I mean? Last year was HUGE. And this year the world ends. I mean, if you believe all that "end of the world" stuff. Personally, I lean either way, depending on my level of optimism or pessimism. Although, if a cataclysmic apocalyptic event should happen, you know we're prepared out here. Sean even learned this year that I happen to be a pretty decent shot and won't be totally useless in the zombie apocalypse. <br />
<br />
But I digress, the year in review: Wow. That's all I can say. I'm so grateful for last year. Don't get me wrong, there were some bad things. Mike's paternal grandmother lost her battle with cancer in November. She was an awesome lady and will be missed by our family. Mike's hospital ordeals were nerve wracking and not fun. My mother received a very grim medical diagnosis, although the second opinion is, so far, inconclusive. That will be a whole other post. But in the end, we came out stronger. My Mother's illness prompted my sister and I to take a weekend, just us and Mom & Dad. It was a weekend for healing old hurts and forgiveness. Watching my daughter give birth was one of the hardest, but most joyous, things I've ever witnessed. She was a champ. Her being a mother and wife has brought us even closer in fabulous ways. Mike's illnesses and our trip reminded us, again, to cherish each other while we can. (Sappy, right?)<br />
<br />
And, as always, I am constantly reminded that we have met and continue to meet the most amazing people, both in person and online. Shout out to Peg at <a href="http://pegbur7.wordpress.com/">Square Peg in a Round Hole</a> for the awesome white trash chex mix she sent me. It was delicious! Thanks to everyone who has sent notes, cards, emails, ect, whenever we've needed a "pick me up". And thanks, most, for continuing to share my life through this blog. I ♥ you, one and all.<br />
<br />
And here's some highlights:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqYoebfXlkFrfqeJL31ySAMS_03UwA1dZP0cEPSc3arVvBY5TUBkNgAQuJZo_RYBYyNK7O6ZgE-5-o_RqD3H1FQxUgbqJdv5BaRqXQbHV6-gOqZoc7IySecXUxJ1yhaaQg-3Ii8yLTOM/s1600/SANY0513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqYoebfXlkFrfqeJL31ySAMS_03UwA1dZP0cEPSc3arVvBY5TUBkNgAQuJZo_RYBYyNK7O6ZgE-5-o_RqD3H1FQxUgbqJdv5BaRqXQbHV6-gOqZoc7IySecXUxJ1yhaaQg-3Ii8yLTOM/s200/SANY0513.JPG" width="134" /></a></div><center>Our trip to Gulf Shores, Al in March with a pregnant Lu</center><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLnkF_EpdB2d41SjMEdrZ7WzXLsNB4LXJCK6HalwTDJdOKEPSm6EKHeHnPgwIc653mnGa_skJdNQ8u5KCbaP6UYvHrTAoNih1qw7lHP3tDW-5fYB1eYbQMXy5MT42fvCYiZpHbIlK47pw/s1600/SANY0919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLnkF_EpdB2d41SjMEdrZ7WzXLsNB4LXJCK6HalwTDJdOKEPSm6EKHeHnPgwIc653mnGa_skJdNQ8u5KCbaP6UYvHrTAoNih1qw7lHP3tDW-5fYB1eYbQMXy5MT42fvCYiZpHbIlK47pw/s200/SANY0919.JPG" width="133" /></a></div><center> CJ's prom in May </center><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1Zery5GVrNnIWSrpUDSPIjkxXqMo8AkIy6NgZyfI6yNuVC4V1BnWiNRY-VslW_gSHSFmsRI077VtMSGLApzvv5EigNUc_xTyDFARa1HgPQ8BKEBjCAPrrkjHoM48t-KsbCsiOELmt4w/s1600/SANY0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1Zery5GVrNnIWSrpUDSPIjkxXqMo8AkIy6NgZyfI6yNuVC4V1BnWiNRY-VslW_gSHSFmsRI077VtMSGLApzvv5EigNUc_xTyDFARa1HgPQ8BKEBjCAPrrkjHoM48t-KsbCsiOELmt4w/s200/SANY0001.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><center> CJ's Graduation in late May </center><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNyc551lUiXAsPHIV5QKvQq0R8oMYFSpdbGZ0ZtxOjEx0Pk3vsuaKHR0FdCrFR_RLQkRA92Pv0BwZf2NJ-ns9S8RIHLBQpWKpXcpbrsneBtLG_q8FgZ1bkekLVlbFt0QbopBruP9pxEHQ/s1600/SANY0539-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNyc551lUiXAsPHIV5QKvQq0R8oMYFSpdbGZ0ZtxOjEx0Pk3vsuaKHR0FdCrFR_RLQkRA92Pv0BwZf2NJ-ns9S8RIHLBQpWKpXcpbrsneBtLG_q8FgZ1bkekLVlbFt0QbopBruP9pxEHQ/s200/SANY0539-1.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><center> Counting down the weeks til Dylan's birth </center><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBwqhF2OLIL_nmwTMxzHTtouTU84WAIBN-9nj7DkBu2PEOsM9nCR4apkX_QFEWn5WSSiVQtpMOLXGcCQabpiSQ_72avO9BNjcMzWXrZGxcCpCC4fOr6RGrcTcGehIJefaWnCGbo-OYuvY/s1600/SDC11809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBwqhF2OLIL_nmwTMxzHTtouTU84WAIBN-9nj7DkBu2PEOsM9nCR4apkX_QFEWn5WSSiVQtpMOLXGcCQabpiSQ_72avO9BNjcMzWXrZGxcCpCC4fOr6RGrcTcGehIJefaWnCGbo-OYuvY/s200/SDC11809.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><center> The big day arrived, 07-18-11 Dylan James Flanagan, 7 lbs 10 oz</center><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEekifvGVyU5yXGNgTs8UVAXqN4tbrtJh-jDMWoOwycWPENyzbB-NvEPNaqEV0G5LkhIRWzGNLyEbokIn9LC0GHBJwjH6Zj-apz5c90okiGVL-EqoJ24H0Lj232CBMyay8ECFFpxgq6uI/s1600/SANY0418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEekifvGVyU5yXGNgTs8UVAXqN4tbrtJh-jDMWoOwycWPENyzbB-NvEPNaqEV0G5LkhIRWzGNLyEbokIn9LC0GHBJwjH6Zj-apz5c90okiGVL-EqoJ24H0Lj232CBMyay8ECFFpxgq6uI/s200/SANY0418.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><center> She's a beautiful Mama </center><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wtFjZP0B6GpXTf6SktGJNICH6g3vkBAostYLmgJS4EGRPAfR48BqJyatVEgvig39SxyGhg-YG1jcIB5p8GgEMLG5SxiSu_WxPuVNk5F10-Buvgev8Qnbq0ud4CeqEnR3JFeCY0zbt5g/s1600/SDC11900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wtFjZP0B6GpXTf6SktGJNICH6g3vkBAostYLmgJS4EGRPAfR48BqJyatVEgvig39SxyGhg-YG1jcIB5p8GgEMLG5SxiSu_WxPuVNk5F10-Buvgev8Qnbq0ud4CeqEnR3JFeCY0zbt5g/s200/SDC11900.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><center> Mike's Grandma Vera got to see the baby </center><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYErrPD-UZb_0skKzcToMJN0K8GD1qUbkrLgttuorh11esIxm-tSYcXf1qZy4-cT-7mYc8wYLI0iOepH0dC0B37BVUlDI6jp7hNV0q7nu5Rd09CVElrrLGM7WvefEtykWv9gE7pwpPD24/s1600/SANY0498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYErrPD-UZb_0skKzcToMJN0K8GD1qUbkrLgttuorh11esIxm-tSYcXf1qZy4-cT-7mYc8wYLI0iOepH0dC0B37BVUlDI6jp7hNV0q7nu5Rd09CVElrrLGM7WvefEtykWv9gE7pwpPD24/s200/SANY0498.JPG" width="134" /></a></div><center> The wedding: small but wonderful, in the place they met </center><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhwicTnP-_GKP3tX2obKVOkDeyhQFOGYPXD0wuSRKshG2Ev-zaPFU_rtK7teUPOqXU_Qr_Wi9YHTi-Yn9f4PNf9PfFmFNo0XbScQlmL13h-yG1BPnmhSSqHEhjynm14YOKiy2lJI4L50/s1600/SDC11975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhwicTnP-_GKP3tX2obKVOkDeyhQFOGYPXD0wuSRKshG2Ev-zaPFU_rtK7teUPOqXU_Qr_Wi9YHTi-Yn9f4PNf9PfFmFNo0XbScQlmL13h-yG1BPnmhSSqHEhjynm14YOKiy2lJI4L50/s200/SDC11975.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><center> Cutest family ever, Halloween</center><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixVRqxQHpA_CoVnM_F4CqVXO9W1id4tJ2xa2iUiqqy83gKuNkFgULAQ_SM1wziRIbBfYW6xkR7fhmN__oaF5KVxtEVrO5aq_b8jeKghk1Uvid7H1EYixFCNAAX8vQ4TSbWcF6J78VhdYE/s1600/DSCN0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixVRqxQHpA_CoVnM_F4CqVXO9W1id4tJ2xa2iUiqqy83gKuNkFgULAQ_SM1wziRIbBfYW6xkR7fhmN__oaF5KVxtEVrO5aq_b8jeKghk1Uvid7H1EYixFCNAAX8vQ4TSbWcF6J78VhdYE/s200/DSCN0016.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><center> Mike in a New Orlean's coffee shop before the cemetery tour. How could you not love this guy? </center><br />
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May you all have a very blessed 2012!<br />
<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-13406625438731219702011-12-15T09:46:00.001-06:002011-12-15T09:50:03.717-06:00The one where we adopt a code word...So Sean's ex-girlfriend (and yet, still my favorite future daughter-in-law) fussed at me about not blogging the other day. So you can pretend that you all gave me a lecture. And here I am, trying to appease you, my faithful audience. It's my birthday and I really want to do one of those sappy "another year older, yet wiser" birthday posts. But I don't have time for that today. So today, you get another funny (hopefully) glimpse into our ridiculous household.<br />
<br />
We all know how this Christmas thing goes: we shop, we decorate, we bake (well, some people do anyway), we hand make beautiful gift baskets (or at least I used to, now I have no time), we spend time with people we love and we make merry. That about sums it up in a nutshell. But what about those odd Christmas occasions, here and there, that we have absolutely no desire to attend, yet, feel obligated to? We have a few of those~<br />
<br />
Me: Do we have to go?<br />
<br />
Mike: I think it's expected.<br />
<br />
Me: But I don't wanna...<br />
<br />
Mike: Me either.<br />
<br />
Me: Okay, so how about that day I'll stand on the porch steps and you push me off, necessitating a trip to the ER, thus giving us the perfect excuse for not being there?<br />
<br />
Mike: You're kidding, right?<br />
<br />
Me: Um, yes. No. Not really. But don't make me land on my head, because I don't have time for a concussion. And not my arms or wrists or anything, because I have to be able to work...<br />
<br />
Mike: I'm pretty sure that's not a good idea.<br />
<br />
Me: Um. Fine. But I'm going to start drinking before we go.<br />
<br />
Mike: That's probably not a good idea, either. You have a tendency to tell people what you think of them when you drink very much.<br />
<br />
Me: Don't be silly. I always tell people what I think of them.<br />
<br />
Mike: True. But sober Spot does it with a sweet smile, the hint of an accent and in words so big, that most people don't realize you've insulted them until hours later. Tipsy Spot just tells them, "I don't like you."<br />
<br />
Me: Fine. Well how about I still have a drink or two and we develop a code word? Something that you can say that will let me know I'm saying too much.<br />
<br />
Mike: Like what?<br />
<br />
Me: How about "ur mom"?<br />
<br />
Mike: My mom?<br />
<br />
Me: No! "Ur mom", kind of as in my mom. <br />
<br />
Mike: You want me to say "your mom"?<br />
<br />
Me: No. I want you to say "ur mom". It sounds totally different.<br />
<br />
Mike: "Ur mom"?<br />
<br />
Me: Exactly!<br />
<br />
Mike: That's not going to work.<br />
<br />
Me: Why not?<br />
<br />
Mike: Because I'm pretty sure that no one over the age of 15 actually says "ur mom" and I don't know how I'd work that into a conversation.<br />
<br />
Me: I don't know what you're talking about. Me and the kids say it all the time.<br />
<br />
Mike: Yeah...<br />
<br />
Me: So does my sister.<br />
<br />
Mike: Again, yeah...<br />
<br />
Me: Whatevs...<br />
<br />
Mike: I don't think adults say that either.<br />
<br />
<br />
Later that day~<br />
<br />
Me: So I tried to get your dad to push me off the porch so we wouldn't have to go to "x".<br />
<br />
Lu: That might be a bit drastic.<br />
<br />
Me: Yeah, my luck I'd break a wrist or something. So I tried to get him to say a code phrase when I was getting too honest. But he wouldn't play along.<br />
<br />
Lu: What phrase?<br />
<br />
Me: "ur mom". I thought it was perfect. He said he couldn't work it into conversation.<br />
<br />
Lu: What? He could totally say "that's what ur mom says!"<br />
<br />
Me: Exactly. He's such a killjoy.<br />
<br />
So, long story short, Mike did not push me off the porch. Nor did I imbibe heavily before I left the house. And I behaved. And not a single solitary person said "ur mom" all night long...(which might be why I didn't want to go in the first place.) <br />
<br />
I hope that everyone is having a fabulous holiday season! May all your occasions be merry!<br />
<br />
♥Spot<br />
<br />
PS- I'm participating in a blog hop called the "Twelve days of Creepfest" on my other blogs. I'm having contests, so you could win prizes, so stop by either <a href="http://seespotread-spot.blogspot.com/">See Spot Read</a> or <a href="http://www.staceyturner-authorspot.blogspot.com/">The Author Spot</a> and enter the contests. Did I mention there were prizes??Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-8093374241692601412011-11-28T15:24:00.001-06:002011-12-02T11:58:45.517-06:00The one where charity begins at home...Right. I know. You're all mad at me and probably no one even reads this blog anymore because I can't be bothered to write it. I'm sorry. *hangs head in shame* But honestly, I'm so busy living...that I don't always have time to write about it. And I don't know whether I can apologize about that.<br />
<br />
Anywho, I do owe you guys a blog post about Mike & I's trip to New Orleans, complete with pictures, and I promise that one is coming. But this one is slightly more important.<br />
<br />
Lately, I've been feeling ultra-charitable. Don't get me wrong, we've always tried to be charitable, I've tried to raise the kids to appreciate their blessings and give to those less fortunate. I think it worked pretty well, both of them will donate their time to a good cause. Lu cannot pass a Salvation Army bell-ringer without emptying her (and whoever happens to be with her's) pockets of change. We donate old clothes and shoes to the Salvation Army store. We've given away furniture and unused TVs. I recently redecorated the living room and donated all the old decorations. <br />
<br />
And in New Orleans? Well, Mike wouldn't let me carry cash because I kept giving it to homeless people. Especially those with dogs. Something about those homeless dogs really got to me. When we got home I started feeling a tug every time a commercial for a non-profit would come on. I started debating the relative merits of donating to UNICEF, ASPCA and the WWF. You've seen the commercials, who can resist those sad eyed children or kittens? And don't even get me started on the tigers... I figured I could spare a little, and there were so many organizations who need help. But then I found a charity closer to home.<br />
<br />
I noticed last time that I picked CJ up from his group home that he had some flaky patches on his scalp. We used some head and shoulders shampoo and I bought him a bottle to take back to his house. When I dropped it off, they told me that all the kids had been switched to a body wash/shampoo combo soap. Obviously, it wasn't working for CJ, but I'd bought him new shampoo. When I picked him up this time, I told them I'd bring special shampoo, soap and lotion back for him. We discussed how the new soap wasn't really working for any of them. I couldn't get that out of my head. Some of the boys in CJ's house have toileting issues still. That can't be good for their skin.<br />
<br />
When we were driving CJ back to his house after Thanksgiving, I reminded Sean that I had to stop and get CJ some hygiene products. And that while I understood that smaller budgets and dwindling money sources had forced his school into trying to save money where they could, switches like these really bothered me. <br />
<br />
<br />
"Why don't you buy enough good body wash for all the boys?" Sean asked.<br />
<br />
Why didn't I? I talked to one of his aides and asked if that would be a problem or if we'd need special permission for them to use it. She said not as long as it was on the approved list. Whaddya know? Suave body wash for men was on the approved list. And since that's what I buy my guys at home, I figured it's what I'd buy these guys too. She said they'd go through 8-10 bottles a month. I bought one for each boy and got them started. But I'll be sending more their way. Everyone deserves decent soap, shampoo and lotion. Especially those who can't buy it for themselves.<br />
<br />
Take a look around you this season and find someone who really needs your help. Pay it forward. I dare you.<br />
<br />
♥Spot<br />
<br />
PS- Many of the children with disabilities who attend CJ's school have families of their own. Some of those families struggle to send their children to a place where they can receive the special instruction and care that they need. Some of them live far away and don't get to visit often. And some of the children are wards of the state, with no parents. They can always use donations of clothing (all sizes), games, books, dvds, ect for the residential dorms and group houses. We have donated many items over the years and they are always very grateful.<br />
<br />
**Update- here is the link to The Hope Institute's Webpage for those of you who would like to donate. <a href="http://www.thehopeinstitute.us/">http://www.thehopeinstitute.us/</a> They and I thank you.**Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-15123729449514078062011-10-23T11:42:00.000-05:002011-10-23T11:42:26.321-05:00The one with the zombie giraffes...As you all know, we have some wicked outlandish conversations at my house. Its pretty much the norm, as a matter of fact. Well, while Mike was in the hospital, Sean came to visit every day. As Mike slept a lot, I was glad of the company. While we were watching what passes for TV there, an advertisement for a documentary on the zombie phenomenon in pop culture came on. And this conversation ensued~<br />
<br />
Me: I hope we're home by then, because I totally want to watch that.<br />
<br />
Sean: Me too. Just to laugh at your generation's ideas about zombies.<br />
<br />
Me: 'Scuse me?<br />
<br />
Sean: You know, now that my generation has actual fact to support zombies. We were raised with enough knowledge of DNA, genomes and molecular mutation (I must admit that at this point all I heard was blah, blah, blah) that we understand how zombies could happen and why they aren't really dead.<br />
<br />
Me: I'm not really sure what you just said, but I think you're full of sh*t.<br />
<br />
Sean: I'm not full of sh*t. I'm just smarter than you.<br />
<br />
Me: I'll give you that you have a higher IQ, but that means nothing when it comes to zombies, because I'm like a freakin expert here. And zombies are too dead. They're the walking dead. Duh. Everyone knows that. They travel in hordes.<br />
<br />
Sean: No they aren't. Zombies are live people who blah blah blah.<br />
<br />
Me: (Somehow, my brain has jumped the track and I'm off course) OMG. Do you think sharks could become zombies? I mean if dogs and cats can become zombies, then sharks could right? That's freakin scary. Or alligators! What's scarier than a freakin zombie alligator?!<br />
<br />
Sean: Um. Sharks and alligators already attack people so I'm not sure they'd be any scarier as zombies than they already are.<br />
<br />
Me: Oh. Well then let's pick something that doesn't already eat people. What about Giraffes? Pretty non-scary to begin with but all of a sudden, wham!! Scary!!<br />
<br />
Sean: Giraffes are herbivores, they eat leaves and grass. So they'd just go around attacking trees. Not scary. Extremely goofy.<br />
<br />
Me: It doesn't matter what you eat before you become a zombie. The mutation that causes zombiefication would cause a craving for flesh. Therefore, anything that became a zombie would eat flesh.<br />
<br />
Sean: Their digestive systems couldn't handle flesh. They'd still eat leaves.<br />
<br />
Me: They're dead! Do you think vegan zombies are going to go around eating beans? No! They're going to eat people.<br />
<br />
Sean: But human digestive systems are equipped to eat meat. It's not a matter of evolution, its a matter of preference. Giraffes don't prefer leaves, they're genetically programmed to eat them.<br />
<br />
Me: (jumping the track once more because its how I roll, peeps) Wait! Do you think if Giraffes "accidentally" ate flesh, they'd develop a craving for it? (I did do air quotes on the "accidentally")<br />
<br />
Sean: Zombie giraffes or regular giraffes?<br />
<br />
Me: Oh regular. Not zombie, live giraffes.<br />
<br />
Sean: How is a giraffe going to "accidentally" ingest flesh?! I think you'd have to practically force feed it to them.<br />
<br />
Me: Okay, so say a serial killer works at a zoo and he wants to dispose of a body so he cuts it up and mixes it with the giraffe's food.<br />
<br />
Sean: I think if a serial killer worked at the zoo, there are far more likely animals to feed a body to. You know, like Lions or Tigers.<br />
<br />
Me: Okay okay, so say he just accidentally gets some in the giraffe's food. Taste for flesh, or no?<br />
<br />
Sean: I think it would get very sick, so no.<br />
<br />
Me: Whatever. Man eating Giraffes. I think they're scary.<br />
<br />
Sean: Nope. Just goofy.<br />
<br />
Me: I hope it eats you while you're busy laughing at it.<br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure there's a story in there somewhere. And you all might want to look a little closer next time you go to the zoo. Giraffes have really big teeth.<br />
<br />
Happy Sunday,<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-89871405657243626732011-10-22T12:38:00.000-05:002011-10-22T12:38:44.877-05:00The one where I get angry...Yep. I'm angry today. I'm angry at my husband. Why? Because I love him, that's why. But he doesn't listen very well, so I'm writing him this letter. And I know he'll see it because he reads my blog.<br />
<br />
<strong>Dear Mike,</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>I love you. Do you know that? You should after what we've been through the last year and a half, the good, the bad and the hideously ugly. I've been right by your side, through it all. Sometimes for days on end.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>I can't possibly let you know exactly what it was like to sit by your bedside in the ICU after the accident and wait and worry and make deals with the Universe in my head for your survival. I can't tell you what it was like to try to stay awake, convinced that something bad would happen if I closed my eyes, if for a second, I lost my focus.</strong> <br />
<br />
<strong>I can't tell you what it was like, even after you were doing better, to be afraid to leave the hospital, to leave your side. No one told you how I'd begin to shake if I was gone longer than a half an hour. How great the need to keep you in my sight was.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>I can't tell you how hard it was for me to let you out of my sight once we were back home. How scared I was to let you drive anywhere by yourself. How I sat there, staring at my phone, waiting for the text saying that you made it safely. </strong><br />
<br />
<strong>But I did it. You pulled through and so did I. And gradually, I learned to let it go, that I didn't have to be constantly vigilant, that it was going to be OK.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Then you got really sick in February and we did the hospital thing again. Luckily, it was over quickly and you were better, nearly overnight. And you were cranky. But I stayed there with you and I put up with your crankiness, because I was still so grateful that you were alive. Ok. Little speed bump. No big deal.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Then last weekend you got sick again. At first, I wasn't really that worried. I hated that you were feeling so bad, but I figured a night in the hospital, IV fluids and antibiotics and you'd perk up. Just like February. But it didn't happen that way. You ran a high temp for 3 days. Your white count shot up. The doctor was stumped. I was petrified. </strong><br />
<br />
<strong>I can't tell you what it was like to be there, again. Doing the bedside vigil and wondering if you were going to kick this thing or if it was something much more serious. You were asleep more than you were awake and you weren't real clear when you were awake. But you never knew how scared I was, because I didn't show it. And when you began to worry, I'm the one who curled up in the bed beside you and gave you a pep talk. </strong><br />
<br />
<strong>And you pulled through again. And you began to get sarcastic and I knew you were getting better. We came home yesterday and you slept mostly. The kids remarked that when you were awake, you were grumpy. Tell me about it. And yet, I didn't hold it against you.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>So why am I angry? Because after all of this, you still refuse to take care of yourself. The doctor said that you still have the pneumonia and you were supposed to go home and rest. I'm pretty sure that didn't mean going immediately back to work this morning. Remember last night when you got up, walked from the living room to the kitchen and had a coughing fit so bad, you doubled over? Remember how you had to sleep sitting up in the chair last night, because you couldn't breathe?</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>And yet, this morning, you were gone before I got up and didnt' come back in to take a break for four hours. Does that sound like resting to you? Really? And so I fussed at you. And you said you hadn't done anything physical except drive around in your truck and talk to people. </strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Well, driving isn't resting. And talking to people is what got you into this in the first place. People have a million germs and I know for a fact that you weren't wearing a mask like you should have been. I'm pretty sure you didn't have any hand sanitizer either. You're immune system is already in a seriously weakened state and yet you insist on pushing your luck. So we had words. And I told you that next week when you're in the hospital again, I'm not going to be there. Because its not fair. Its not fair to put me in that position when you can avoid it. I told you I'd hire a babysitter to sit with you. Its an idle threat because you know I wouldn't do that. You know I'll be there.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>You insisted that you'd be fine. I wondered when you developed psychic powers and the ability to know the future and why you hadn't shared that with me before. Maybe you will be fine. I hope so.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>But for now, as I sit in my office, listening to you cough up a lung in the living room, I'm a tad on the skeptical side. So I'm not speaking to you. Because its not fair to yourself, its not fair to your job, and its damn sure not fair to the people who love you, to take risks with your health. But you don't listen. So I'm saving my breath. </strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Love,</strong><br />
<strong>Me</strong><br />
<br />
Sorry for the rant peeps, but sometimes people need to know what you're really thinking.<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-42589168050234337022011-10-19T18:29:00.000-05:002011-10-19T18:29:51.221-05:00The one where things look up...Thought I'd blog for those of you who aren't my Facebook friends. Mike has finally rounded the corner and is feeling better. His temp hasn't gone above 100 all day. He's still got a headache and he's still wiped out, but he's feeling better. The doctor has decided to switch him to oral antibiotics and let us go home tomorrow, provided the fever stays down tonight. Fingers crossed. We're both ready to head home.<br />
<br />
The doctors still aren't sure exactly what Mike has, but they do know what it's not. It's not cancer. (whew!) His heart is good, no infection, no leaky valves, looks strong. It's not Lyme disease, Lupus, West Nile Virus, or meningitis. *sigh of relief* The best guess? He caught a virus sometime last week, then he was exposed to strep (most likely) last weekend. The two together were too much for his almost non-existent immune system, and quickly ran rampant through his body. While in the hospital, he also developed pneumonia. But after all of the antibiotics and antivirals, he's finally recovering. He won't be up to speed for another several days, (and if he tries to be- I will duct tape him to the couch- for real- I'm not playing around here) but at least he'll be home.<br />
<br />
So here are a few funny episodes from our hospital stay:<br />
<br />
After we finally get to our room, at 11pm Saturday night~<br />
<br />
Me: Boy, the coyotes sure are...*trails off*<br />
<br />
Mike: *stares at me*<br />
<br />
Me: That's a siren, isn't it?<br />
<br />
Mike: Yep.<br />
<br />
The nurse asking Mike questions during admin~<br />
<br />
Nurse: So how did all this start?<br />
<br />
Mike: *mumbles*<br />
<br />
Nurse: *looks at me*<br />
<br />
Me: *translates* It's cool, I speak mumble.<br />
<br />
And after too many days trapped in a tiny room together~<br />
<br />
Mike: I'm just going to warn you, I'm feeling really grumpy and whiny today.<br />
<br />
Me: And I'm just going to warn you, that if get too bad, they'll be picking linen fibers out of your nose at your autopsy.<br />
<br />
Nurse: (who happened to walk in during conversation) *gasps*<br />
<br />
Me: Just kidding. I don't get to collect the insurance money if I kill him.<br />
<br />
Nurse: *still looking at me like I've lost my mind*<br />
<br />
Please keep your collective fingers crossed that all goes well and we are home tomorrow! And thank you for the many good wishes and positive thoughts and prayers. I love you guys.<br />
<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-46392805340704972292011-10-17T22:53:00.000-05:002011-10-17T22:53:28.918-05:00The one where we're in the hospital again *sigh*So we're in the hospital again. You'd think by now we'd have a wing of our own, or at least a room, or maybe just a special comfy chair for me. But no, no special treatment. Except that we have the best doctor- Dr. (House) Saeed, the adorable hero of this <a href="http://whatpassesforsaneonacrazyday.blogspot.com/2010/08/one-where-you-try-to-remember-who-i-am.html#comments">post</a>.<br />
<br />
It started Saturday. Mike had to get up super early, like butt-crack of dawn early, before the sun, at 4am. He says he felt fine when he got up. I wouldn't know because I was doing what all (mostly) sane people do at that time- sleeping. But by the time I woke up, at the much more reasonable time of 8, he had texted me to say he wasn't feeling well. I told him to come up to the house and get some Motrin. He did, I took his temp, no fever, but he said he was cold. Unfortunately, that is usually exactly how him getting very sick starts. In fact, he put on pants (instead of shorts, it really was a lovely day out) and grabbed a jacket. By 2 he was back inside for more Motrin and a stocking cap ( I kid you not). Still no fever. By 3:30, he was down for the count. He could barely make it to the couch and was shivering so bad his teeth were chattering. Fever of 101. I called the Dr. answering service and Dr. Saeed just happened to be the one on call. He said take him to the ER, he was admitting him. I was smart enough to pack a bag!<br />
<br />
By the time we got to the ER, his fever was up to 102.9, his headache was killing him and he was miserable. His white count was double what it should be and we were, of course, staying. They finally got his fever to break about 4am, but it kept spiking back up. When the fever was gone, he felt some better, but mostly slept. Not knowing exactly what was wrong they started giving him massive doses of antibiotics. When those didn't seem to be doing it, they added antiviral meds. His white count continued to climb. Nothing seems to be working.<br />
<br />
Today, he woke up with 101.9 fever and feeling horrible. They finally got the fever broken, but he's definitely feeling less than well. His white count had dropped a half number. The Dr. said he thought that was mild progress and the fact that his fever was a little less was a good sign. That was at 3pm.<br />
<br />
At 4pm his fever spiked back to 102.9. They got it broken again, but still. After so many antibiotics and antivirals that I'm almost positive he's going to glow in the dark, he shouldn't be running such a high fever. They are running two more tests tonight, and I hope that we have some kind of results tomorrow. Today was nothing but waiting and hoping that something would start working.<br />
<br />
I don't know how long we will be here. They can't let him go with the fever or the white count this high. We're both frustrated and he's feeling badly. (I know this because he's not complaining about being here. Normally he's begging to go home and stressing about work. He's still stressing a little about work, of course, but only when he's not feverish. Hopefully, tomorrow brings better news, or any news.<br />
<br />
Keeping that bedside vigil,<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-64533844956578908562011-10-09T10:52:00.000-05:002011-10-09T10:52:41.110-05:00The one where music is useful...So my husband actually got on me the other day about blogging. No, he wasn't telling me to stop. He was telling me it had been too long in between posts. Apparently, he checks out my blog every couple of days. I found this pretty humorous. I mean, he lives with me, he knows what goes on.<br />
<br />
Then he came in yesterday and said that one of the scout ladies (the one who painted the thunder bird sign and did a fantastic job of it) was looking at some pictures someone had tagged on FB of her son and somehow ended up at my blog. He clearly admitted he had no clue how FB worked so I explained how this random occurrence may have happened. Anywho, he said that she started reading this blog and her husband was reading the work on my author blog. So hello new people! I love you. Thank you for reading my ramblings. Of course, if you know Mike and Sean, you know it's all true.<br />
<br />
And I know that you guys are still waiting on the wedding post. And I have another post about Sean & I in Ohio, but honestly, I'm swamped with work right now so this has to be just a quick funny post. <br />
<br />
We like music. Not unusual I'm sure, except that we have very eclectic tastes and on road trips have to listen to some of every one's music. This makes for some entertaining CDs, let me tell you. Recently, music popped up in a couple of conversations~<br />
<br />
On Lu's wedding day, as we were driving to the salon to get her hair done~<br />
<br />
Me: So are you excited?<br />
<br />
Lu: Yes, very.<br />
<br />
Me: Are you super nervous?<br />
<br />
Lu: I am. Marriage is a big commitment.<br />
<br />
Me: It is. And you come from a long line of very long marriages. And marriage is hard work. But just remember, when times get hard, remember when you were sitting there by the water, he put his arm around you for the first time...<br />
<br />
Lu: What?<br />
<br />
Me: It works for Tay-tay.<br />
<br />
Lu: Are you quoting me Taylor Swift lyrics as marriage advice?<br />
<br />
Me: Yes. And also- Love <strong><em>is</em></strong> a battlefield.<br />
<br />
And when Sean and I were driving back from Ohio, we were listening to Hot Chelle Rae's <a href="http://www.lyrics.com/tonight-tonight-lyrics-hot-chelle-rae.html">"Tonight tonight"</a>. At the end of the song, I was singing the "whoa, oh, oh" part.~<br />
<br />
Sean: Why are just singing the "whoa, oh, oh" part?<br />
<br />
Me: Because I'm good at it. Listen, "whoa, oh, oh"<br />
<br />
Sean: You know most people like to picture themselves as the lead singer and sing that part. <br />
<br />
Me: Um, I know my limitations. I'm not lead singer material. I'm definitely more of a "whoa, oh, oh" singer. Or maybe a "La, la, la" girl. <br />
<br />
Sean: Only you.<br />
<br />
Me: I'm comfortable with the back up singer role, because I'm pretty sure that lead singer can't write a story to scare the stuffing out of anyone.<br />
<br />
And when my sister, Sean and I were going car shopping~<br />
<br />
Me: Sean, you are looking sick and sexified.<br />
<br />
Sean: I've got that glitter on my eyes.<br />
<br />
Hildi: And your stockings, ripped up the sides?<br />
<br />
Me: And his hot pants, on and up.<br />
<br />
Hildi: I got Jesus on my neck-a-lus.<br />
<br />
Sean: We are who we are.<br />
<br />
That's from Key-dollar sign-ha's song "We are who we are" in case you don't listen to Ke$ha. And yes, we're liable to comment with a line from a song at any point in time. No matter the gravity of the situation. Because we really are who we are.<br />
<br />
So I hope someone gets a giggle out of this. I will try to post more frequently so my hubby knows what I'm doing. And because you all deserve it.<br />
<br />
Happy Sunday,<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-70542990271888874882011-09-26T12:42:00.000-05:002011-09-26T12:42:22.155-05:00The one where I went AWOL (again)I cannot believe its been so long since I posted. But suffice it to say that things have been crazy busy around here. And I know you're all expecting a "Lu got married" post, but its not happening today. Sorry. Its in the works, but I don't have that kind of time today, because you guys will want pics and the whole works.<br />
<br />
I will say that it was a Beeyoooteefull wedding and Lu looked amazing and Luke was awestruck by her and the whole thing went off without a hitch because I'm OCD and had a plan "B" setting in case it rained on the outdoor wedding thing (which it did). Getting Lu to plan and committ to anything is like pulling teeth so I was stressed out until the Friday before, when I finally gave up and took care of all the details myself so that I could get some sleep in which I did not grind my teeth and wake up with a headache. So she is now officially Mrs. Flanagan. Yes, that is super weird.<br />
<br />
In other important family news: Dylan is growing like we feed him Acme insta-grow. At two months old he has grown 4 inches in length and put on 4 1/2 pounds. He's a big guy. And vocal! I don't remember my kids ever cooing and responding as well as he does. Already, he'll talk your ear off if you let him. I can't wait til he has words, because I am dying to know what the heck he's saying. He loves his bouncy chair, will only stay in the swing if the classical music it plays is turned on, and rarely really cries. He is delightful and I'm completely in love with him. Oh and Lu has decided that he will call me "Mimi" instead of Grandma. And her Dad is "Pawpaw". Don't ask, I didn't.<br />
<br />
Sean is an Eagle Scout. He finished his project before his birthday, had his board of review and its all over but the celebrating. We will be having his ceremony sometime in October. He's getting ready to enlist. Can't seem to talk him out of the Marines. <br />
<br />
Mike is doing well. His insurance lawsuit over the accident was finally settled satifactorily. He's gearing down from the summer season and getting ready for duck & goose season. Don't go all "hunting's bad" on me. He loves it and will rationally tell you all of the ways in which it helps to control the population AND the conservation methods and ethics. Plus, he makes me cook the kills so it doesn't go to waste. And let me just say-- I HATE Duck. It tastes like liver. But he and Sean eat it. Goose is pretty good.<br />
<br />
And me- well you can hop on over to <a href="http://www.staceyturner-authorspot.blogspot.com/">The Author Spot</a> for all my author news. But I'll just say, I love my job. Love love love. We talked about retirement the other day and I said I was pretty sure Editors didn't retire, they just go blind. And I'm super pumped because Mike & I are taking our very first ever vacation without kids or young adults or anybody!! Yep! We are going to New Orleans for a week in November, just the two of us. Super excited. Staying at a fabulous apartment in the Garden District, a couple of blocks from Anne Rice's house! And I got a steal on the price! I'm looking forward to everything about the trip. I mean, for real, do you know how many cemeteries there are in New Orleans?! Yay!<br />
<br />
So here are some recent convos- <br />
<br />
Laying in bed the other night, there is some amazing howling going on outside-<br />
<br />
Me: I just realized that we no longer have a dog. What is all that howling?<br />
<br />
Mike: Coyotes<br />
<br />
Me: Are you sure? I've never heard them howl quite like that before.<br />
<br />
Mike: I'm sure.<br />
<br />
Me: You're sure it's not werewolves?<br />
<br />
Mike: Could be, I guess. But its probably coyotes. *and he rolled over and went to sleep*<br />
<br />
Sean and I while having coffee on our back deck:<br />
<br />
Me: Man, its gorgeous out here today. All I want to do is sit here and enjoy the view. I have no motivation.<br />
<br />
Sean: Welcome to the club.<br />
<br />
Me: There's a "no motivation" club now? So what, are you like the president?<br />
<br />
Sean: Yep. And there's an annual fee of $25. It's another $24 if you want the t-shirt.<br />
<br />
Me: Ouch. That's pretty steep. Wait...there's a t-shirt?<br />
<br />
Sean: Well, there will be once I get the motivation to make it.<br />
<br />
The other night when I planned to have spaghetti for dinner, Lu and Sean were complaining. Mind you, Lu loved spaghetti while she was pregnant and it's always been one of Sean's favorites. Well, until he had to eat it nearly every week at camp this summer. Finally, I said if I heard one more complaint, we'd be eating spaghetti every night for a week. I made it my Facebook status so they'd be sure to see it.<br />
<br />
Lu: I saw your Facebook status, so I warned Sean.<br />
<br />
Me: Good. <br />
<br />
Lu: Because I know you are crazy enough to actually do that.<br />
<br />
Me: It's not a matter of crazy. Its just good parenting.<br />
<br />
Lu: How do you figure that?<br />
<br />
Me: The key to parenting is consistency. Don't make a threat you don't intend to keep. Your Dad and I really like spaghetti and its cheap to make so it would be an easy carry through.<br />
<br />
Lu: I'm still chalking it up to crazy...<br />
<br />
Happy Monday y'all!<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-76169190874204746102011-09-02T11:34:00.000-05:002011-09-02T11:34:39.638-05:00The one where my children make me laugh...Okay, so that's pretty much every post. My children are silly and ridiculous and crazy just like I am and we spend a lot of time laughing at each other. Personally, I'm convinced that's a good thing. I think it works as well as my Oil of Olay to keep me looking and feeling young. So these are some snippets from this week...<br />
<br />
Lu had her 6 week check up at the doctor after Dylan's birth. And because she hates to go anywhere and especially to the doctor by herself, she drug me along.<br />
<br />
Me: I can't believe you lost 21 pounds already. That's amazing.<br />
<br />
Lu: It's not enough. I'm still fat and gross.<br />
<br />
Me: You are not fat and gross. Your body just changes when you have a baby and never goes back to quite the same. But you look gorgeous and healthy and amazing.<br />
<br />
Lu: My thighs are enormous. They rub together.<br />
<br />
Me: Um, no. Your thighs are not enormous. My thighs are enormous and rub together. Yours barely whisper "hello" in passing.<br />
<br />
*Huge eye-roll from her*<br />
<br />
Me: I'm so blogging this. <br />
<br />
And Sean and I went to see the Air Force and Navy Recruiters-<br />
<br />
Air force- You'd be really great at special ops. We really need para-rescue, combat control, and combat weather.<br />
<br />
Me- what does combat weather do?<br />
<br />
Sean- duh. They're weathermen.<br />
<br />
Me- but how do you combat the weather? I mean, it just is, there's nothing you can do about it.<br />
<br />
Air force- (trying not to laugh) they monitor the weather conditions in the combat zone. If the wind is blowing 300 miles an hour you can't jump out of a plane. Well, you can. You just won't make it to the ground with a parachute.<br />
<br />
Me- ohhh...<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Navy- So let me ask you this- if you went into infantry in the Marines, what would you do with that when you got out? There's not a lot of call for guys who just know how to kill people.<br />
<br />
Sean- well I'd probably start out with bank robbing and depending upon my level of success and degree of enjoyment, I might try out serial killing.<br />
<br />
Me- he's a bit of a smart ass. Good luck with that.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Navy- and since you're stuck on the boat for six months and get a little stir crazy, we stop in different ports so you can have some R&R.<br />
<br />
Me- and that's how the Navy got their reputation. Shore Leave.<br />
<br />
Sean- She's a bit of a smart ass too.<br />
<br />
Navy- must be where you get it.<br />
<br />
Later in the car, Sean and I were discussing his options. And I asked about search and rescue or being a Navy diver.<br />
<br />
Sean: I hate rescuing people.<br />
<br />
Me: But you're a lifeguard.<br />
<br />
Sean: I know and I hate it. I had to rescue ten kids this summer and I hate it. I just want to say "Listen moron, if you can't swim that well you probably shouldn't be in water over your head."<br />
<br />
Me: But you still saved them.<br />
<br />
Sean: And you know the stupidest rescue? The one where the kid was wearing a life jacket. For criminy sake! A life jacket! Swim your ass back to shore! And out of ten rescues? Only one kid said "thank you."<br />
<br />
Me: Really? That is kind of sucky. I'd totally thank someone if they rescued me.<br />
<br />
Sean: Yeah, and that was one I pulled out for hypothermia. Poor kid apologized for having to be rescued and then said thank you. But I still had to get in that cold water and he got my shirt and towel wet also so I was freezing after that.<br />
<br />
Me: So rescue of any kind is out for Sean, the reluctant lifeguard. So noted.<br />
<br />
See, total ridiculousness. It's what we do. Also, if Lu doesn't stop being so damn picky and find a dress for her wedding soon, I'm going to pull my hair out. She has no clue what she wants. She won't even decide on a flower for the bouquet. We have two weeks left here folks. Two short weeks. Arghhhh...<br />
<br />
TGIF,<br />
♥Spot<br />
<br />
PS- first I bitch about not getting enough comments and then I hide the comment thingie. Smart, eh? For those of you having trouble- it's invisible until you roll over it with your mouse. It's right by the time stamp. I'll try to get it back....Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-36537939446855204862011-08-29T17:43:00.001-05:002011-08-29T17:45:31.409-05:00The one where things change...The times they are a-changin'. Again. They seem to be constantly doing that lately. I think time speeds up as you age and everything happens at a faster rate of speed. Or maybe we just lose attention span and aren't fully focused. I'm totally blaming this on age. Because I can, that's why.<br />
<br />
So the first change is obvious...I changed the design of my blog and went back to the original picture. I love that picture. Being at the ocean makes me happy. Also? I think it defines the "edge". And I almost always feel as if I'm on the edge of something. These days it's usually something exciting. I also simplified the design. I felt it was taking too long to load and had too many distracting elements. So there you go. I hope you like it. I do.<br />
<br />
The second change is that I'm about to be a mother-in-law. Yep, you read it right. Lu & Luke are tying the proverbial knot. They got engaged last week. I know- you're dying to hear the story of how he popped the question. And even if you aren't, I'm going to tell you anyway. Luke works nights at a steel factory and comes home covered in black grime. So the first thing he does is shower. But last Tuesday night he came home a little late and Lu was so busy worrying that he was late, she didn't notice that he was clean and had changed clothes. He'd also brought her home a cherry slushie & mozz sticks from Sonic which are two of her very favorite things. On one of the mozz sticks was a gorgeous diamond engagement ring. Cheezy story, huh? <br />
<br />
I knew it was coming (I helped pick out the rings) but it was still odd. My little girl has a baby and will soon have a husband. How does this happen so fast? They are getting married in a very small outdoor ceremony on September 18th. Only immediate family and their closest friends will be in attendance. Luke is enlisting in the Air Force that week and they will be having a big wedding and reception after he finishes basic and tech school. Not knowing, exactly when that will be, we will start the dress shopping and wedding planning right away. So exciting!!<br />
<br />
Lu & Dylan will stay with us while he's away. Then, they'll join him at his first assignment. I'm excited they are about to start their lives, but sad that they will probably be moving fairly far away. I guess I will be traveling a lot to see my grandbaby!<br />
<br />
Sean is back from his travels and has some amazing stories to tell! He met some of the most interesting people. I guess we both know the cool kids. He's applying to work at the steel factory with Luke so that he make some bank. But first on his priority list is talking to the recruiters and enlisting. He's wanted to be a Marine since he was six. To make me happy he's agreed to talk to the Air Force and Navy recruiters as well, before enlisting. Too soon, I may have an empty nest. And again, I'll have to travel to see him. Good thing I can work from anywhere, huh?<br />
<br />
And I must apologize- I totally left town without alerting the blogosphere. We went to my sister's in Ohio last week and stayed with a friend in Indy on the way back. Visits to my parents bookended the trip. Lu, Dylan and Sean went with me. I do have some funny stories (and pics) to share next time. But the thing that made me giggle was a text I got, two days into my trip. <br />
<br />
J:<strong> Did you leave your house without letting the blogosphere know? How can we keep track of you if you do things like that?</strong><br />
<br />
So you all have my deepest apologies. I'll try to make it easier to stalk me from now on.<br />
<br />
♥Spot<br />
<br />
PS- For those of you who wondered (you know who you are), Sean did indeed make a fried egg sandwich his very first morning home from New Mexico.Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-18351699598508086882011-08-16T11:14:00.000-05:002011-08-16T11:14:31.866-05:00The one where we pick up a hitchhikerI know- you're all freaking out, going "You did WHAT?" Settle down now. It's not what you think. I mean I did pick up a hitchhiker, but it was a blind boy. See, you're not so worried now, right? Have you ever heard of a blind serial killer? No, didn't think so.<br />
<br />
Friday night Lu and I decided at around 7pm that we needed to eat something for dinner. And we both agreed that DQ sounded amazing. So we put Baby Dylan in his car seat and headed to Hamilton. Hamilton is a tiny town about twenty minutes north of us if you take the back roads. And we always take the back roads. Those roads are the roads my kids learned to drive on. There's hardly ever many cars on them and they wind through sleepy little towns, well if you can call a collection of houses a town. So we drive through the first little town and round a curve when I see a guy waving his arms over his head to flag me down.<br />
<br />
Lu: Don't stop!<br />
<br />
Me: But it might be important. There might be an accident or something.<br />
<br />
Lu: Or he might be a serial killer.<br />
<br />
Me: (slowing down) Lu, I'm just going to roll down my window a bit and see what's going on.<br />
<br />
Lu: What if he has a gun?<br />
<br />
Me: (Almost at a stop and close enough to really see the guy) Lu, it's just a kid.<br />
<br />
Lu: So were the children of the corn!!<br />
<br />
I stop, roll down my window, and realize that there's something wrong with the kid. He looks about twelve and I realize his eyes aren't focusing and he's blind. So I ask what he needs and he starts walking towards my voice. He runs into the door of my car.<br />
<br />
Him: I'm blind.<br />
<br />
Me: Yep. I got that. Can I help you?<br />
<br />
Him: Well, I'm walking to Tioga and I just wondered how close I was.<br />
<br />
Me: You're walking there by yourself? <br />
<br />
Him: Yeah, it's okay, I do it alot. I go all over.<br />
<br />
Me: Where are your folks? (who lets a blind kid wonder around by themselves??)<br />
<br />
Him: Oh the're at home. We don't really get along. My dad's 71. I'm adopted.<br />
<br />
Me: (thinking age is no excuse for letting a blind kid walk around by himself) well you don't have any weapons on you, do you?<br />
<br />
Him: No. Just cash.<br />
<br />
Me: Get in the car, I'll take you back to Tioga. (Lu is frantically shaking her head in the back)<br />
<br />
Him: Thanks a lot. I'm going to Mark Foster's. Its a trailer house. Do you know where that is?<br />
<br />
Me: No. I'm not from Tioga. Which side of the street will it be on? Do you know what it looks like?<br />
<br />
Him: Left side. No. Not really (well of course not, he's blind.)<br />
<br />
We drive through the town and I don't see it on the left side. And there are a ton of trailer houses in this town. So we stop to ask a guy on a four wheeler. He says we missed it and to follow him. So we turn around and he leads us to the house. It looks pretty run down and has like a forest full of firewood stacked next to it. <br />
<br />
Him: (pulling out money and asking me what each bill is) here's some money for your gas.<br />
<br />
Me: No, it's cool. Don't worry about it.<br />
<br />
Some really disreputable people come to the window and tell him the guy who lives there isn't home. I tell him to get back in the car. No way I'm leaving a blind kid with them. So I end up taking him back to the intersection where I found him. I did not feel right dropping him off there but he insisted. In the course of the ride I found out that he was fifteen, lived on a farm, his oldest brother is about to turn 50 and he's only been blind for three years. He lost his sight in a four wheeler accident in the winter when he was herding cows. He was lucky to be alive. He had been going to the small high school there but was going to go to the school for the blind in Jacksonville this year. He was a sweet kid. I told him where we lived and and kept saying "we". He probably thought I was crazy because Lu never made a noise the whole time. Nor did Dylan. So he probably didn't even know they were there. After we dropped him off~<br />
<br />
Me: You could have said something.<br />
<br />
Lu: You were chatting away, doing just fine on your own. Besides, I was being you silent back-up.<br />
<br />
Me: What? In case the blind kid attacked me?<br />
<br />
Lu: Yes. Now I know why Luke wants me to keep a pocketknife in the diaper bag for protection. You aren't supposed to pick up hitchhikers.<br />
<br />
Me: Lu, he tried to pay me for 5 minutes worth of gas. I think he was harmless.<br />
<br />
We went to DQ and returned home. We didn't see the blind guy on our way back. Later that night I was working in my office when Lu came in with Dylan.<br />
<br />
Lu: Dylan needs a bottle but I'm scared to go into the kitchen.<br />
<br />
Me: Why?<br />
<br />
Lu: I keep hearing this knocking noise coming from there. And I'm still creeped out from earlier.<br />
<br />
Me: You think the blind kid found our house and is waiting outside?<br />
<br />
Lu: Well you did tell him where we live...<br />
<br />
Me: And what? He's going to make his way through our house, which at the moment has boxes and dressers everywhere, and murder us in our sleep? I'm pretty sure I'd hear him bumping into things. Hell, I can't walk through here without running into things.<br />
<br />
Lu: You never know.<br />
<br />
Me: You do know the windows are open, right? It's probably a noise from outside.<br />
<br />
Lu: I didn't know. Will you get the bottle anyway?<br />
<br />
I got the bottle. *sigh* Later I was telling Mike the story and I ended with the fact that maybe we were running late that night for a reason. Maybe we were supposed to help him. The universe gives you all sorts of chances to do good things, you just have to take them.<br />
<br />
Mike: was it that house that has all the wood stacked around it?<br />
<br />
Me: Yes!<br />
<br />
Mike: That's a really seedy looking place. You really need to be careful.<br />
<br />
Me: I wasn't going inside. I was just dropping him off. Geez! It was just a good deed.<br />
Me: Maybe, in an alternate universe we didn't stop and someone ran him over. Or maybe in an alternate universe those disreputable people got him when he made it to that house alone.<br />
<br />
Lu: Or maybe in an alternate universe he had an accomplice and when you stopped, they whipped out guns and jacked the car with us inside.<br />
<br />
Me: Or maybe he got terribly lost and couldn't find his way home and died.<br />
<br />
Lu: I think if you die in one alternate reality, you have to die in all of them.<br />
<br />
Me: I don't think it works that way.<br />
<br />
Lu: I'm pretty sure it does.<br />
<br />
Me: And since when are you the alternate reality expert? I just read a book about them.<br />
<br />
Lu: whatever. I'm pretty sure I'm right.<br />
<br />
Me: We'll ask Sean when he gets home. He'll give us some long drawn out Quantum physics answer that neither of us will understand and will sound like 'blah blah alternate reality blah' but then he'll dumb it down for us.<br />
<br />
So we're waiting on Sean. This story makes me laugh but at the same time it makes me sad. I'm sad that my kids have grown up in a world where they don't trust anyone and can imagine such horrible scenarios. I'm glad they're smart enough to know that not all strangers are the good guys, but mourn for the innocence I'm not sure they ever had. <br />
<br />
♥Spot<br />
<br />
<br />
Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-48078587653085401012011-08-11T11:08:00.000-05:002011-08-11T11:08:33.297-05:00The one where things are random...Life is random. There's no doubt about that. Popularity is random. Everything seems random lately. I've got 226 Twitter followers. I only know a handful of them. I have more Facebook friends than I know what to do with. Again, I only know so many of them. But apparently being an Editor and a Writer makes me a "cool kid". I'm slightly confused, because I already thought I was cool. I guess I'm just "cooler" now. But then again, I'm probably supposed to be spelling it "kewl" to be really cool. And while I am enjoying getting to know all my new friends and followers, I still want to keep my old ones. And some of you seem to be missing. <br />
<br />
I didn't start this blog to make friends, but that's what happened. And there for awhile there was a core group of us. I could count on their comments and they could count on mine. I got to know them through their blogs and when I was in one of the darkest times of my life (Mike's accident), they helped pull me through with their constant outpouring of love and support. They reached out to me in real life, not just blogland. I miss you guys. I know I've gotten busy and don't blog nearly as much. I know I don't always make it to your blogs as soon as you post, but I do try to keep up! So, if the absence is because you're busy too- just know that I still value you.<br />
<br />
And newbies- I heart you too of course. But leave comments, it's how I get to know you and helps insure that I visit your blog as well.<br />
<br />
And now for the random portion of the blog. Because this blog is nothing, if not random.<br />
<br />
Me: ugh. My hair has sooo many grays in it! Its definitely time to color it again.<br />
<br />
Lu: Maybe you should go with the aunt Vicky style. (Mike's aunt who went through chemo. Her hair grew back this absolutely beautiful salt and pepper. She keeps it short and she looks amazing!)<br />
<br />
Me: Um. I don't think I can pull off that short look. She looks so sophisticated now. I think I even like it better than her blonde hair she used to have.<br />
<br />
Lu: Yeah. It looks "artsy". I don't think it would work for you.<br />
<br />
Me: What the hell? I'm "artsy". So what do you think I'd look like if I let my gray grow out?<br />
<br />
Lu: Kind of like a hippie.<br />
<br />
Me: Oh great. So aunt Vick's hair says "artsy chic" and mine says "aging hippie". Thanks alot Lu.<br />
<br />
Lu: Um. Sorry?<br />
<br />
Me: Doesn't matter anyway. I'm going to start calling them silver highlights. That makes it sound like I put them there on purpose.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
We were watching TV the other night and saw an advertisement for one of those shows where they show funny clips they find on the web.<br />
<br />
Lu: Isn't that what Tosh.0 does?<br />
<br />
Mike: yeah. And Web Soup.<br />
<br />
Me: Well I do not have all day to comb youtube for funny videos you guys. Frankly, I'm glad someone else does it for me.<br />
<br />
Lu: But I just want to see funny cat videos. I think they should have a crazy cat lady who only shows cat videos. And they can film it in her house with her 80 cats. And she can be all "Mr. Tickles found this clip!"<br />
<br />
Mike & Me: *silence*<br />
<br />
Lu: Well I'd watch it.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Lu & I made a trip to Dairy Queen. The closest one is 20 minutes away in a tiny town if you drive the back roads. So we're driving along and we stop at one of the few intersections. There are stop signs on the road we are on.<br />
<br />
Lu: So for the longest time I didn't realize that wasn't a four way stop. And one time I almost got smashed by a semi.<br />
<br />
Me: Is this a story where you're such a bad driver you almost died?<br />
<br />
Lu: Pretty much. And there was this guy in a pick up truck at the other stop sign and when I went he freaked out. He looked so horrified. Glad that semi missed me. If it hadn't he probably would have told the cops I committed suicide.<br />
<br />
Me: And they'd have been all "Ma'am, we think your daughter committed suicide" and I'd have said, "No. She's just stupid."<br />
<br />
Lu: I can see you saying that to the cops.<br />
<br />
Me: And Sean would be all "I told you she was too stupid to live."<br />
<br />
Lu: *giggling* Guess I should pay more attention.<br />
<br />
Hope you are all enjoying your week. Mine has been interesting to say the least. More on that later.<br />
<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-69528366691066156172011-08-03T11:58:00.000-05:002011-08-03T11:58:50.959-05:00The one where I'm someone's favorite...That's right! I'm some one's favorite blogger of the week. Okay, so my post was her favorite post of the week. But that totally translates into me being her favorite blogger, of the week anyway. So you should totally read <a href="http://hamletsmistress.wordpress.com/2011/07/29/favorite-post-of-the-week-5">Hamlet's Mistress' post</a>!<br />
<br />
In other odd news about me- Did any of you watch Bret Michael's Rock of Love show? C'mon, you can admit it, we're all friends here. No one will point and laugh, much. I watched it. All three seasons. Let's face it- Bret is still hott. And those crazy women! The drama, the fights, the boozing all go a long way towards making me happy I'm not them. So anyway, on season 2, there was this chick from Brazil, Marcia. She was the one who threw up and then kissed Brett (he didn't know). Yeah, now you remember her! She started following me on twitter, out of the blue, just randomly. How weird is that? Like I told Sean- I'm famous, yo.<br />
<br />
Also, checking my blog stats and where people travel to my blog from, I'm still popular with the Eastern European crowd (shout out to my homies in The Czech Republic!) but also now, I'm popular with the goth crowd. Woot woot! I was wearing black and reading horror before it was a whole subculture. Go me!<br />
<br />
Seriously, I don't understand any of this, but I'm thankful that anyone reads my ramblings. And the fam? Well, they are doing well.<br />
<br />
Sean was home for just over 24 hours between West Virginia and New Mexico. Drove him to the train station on Monday evening. May have cried a little after he boarded. He may be a "hott guy" to some of you, but he's still my baby. And while I have complete confidence in his ability to take care of himself, it seems like we've graduated to a new era of his independence and I'm feeling a little lost. Plus, I miss him.<br />
<br />
And Lu is settling in to being a mom with remarkable aplomb. Sure, she occasionally tries to pass off a dirty diaper to me to change (ain't happening folks, I did my share), she does everything else herself. Although, she will take me up on the offer to watch Dylan so she can get some sleep occasionally. He's an awesome baby but seems to think playtime is from 11pm to 2am. He's obviously a night owl like his mama. Unfortunately he also thinks being awake from 7am to 9 or so is cool. Not so much his mama and daddy.<br />
<br />
Being a grandma is great. I get to smoobie the hell out of that baby, but don't have to get up in the night, change diapers or deal with the "after baby" body grossness. Mike is also way thrilled with being a grandpa.<br />
<br />
And the editing business is booming, which reminds me that I need to get back to work...<br />
<br />
Happy Hump Day!<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8377298907335808674.post-32320790408450708692011-07-28T10:58:00.000-05:002011-07-28T10:58:21.476-05:00The one where Lu has a baby and Sean wrecks a car...Yes, all at the same time. That's so not the phone call you want to get from one child when you're in the delivery room with the other child. But let's start from the beginning. <br />
<br />
On Sunday, the 17th of July, Luke and I painted the master bedroom blue w/brown polka dots to match the nursery stuff they'd got for baby Dylan. Lu kind of helped, but mostly just watched. I know we were late getting to it, but if you read this blog regularly- you know things have been crazy busy. We were moving into Lu's old room so they could have the larger room w/space for the crib. (It also has an attached bathroom which enables them to stay in their room at night when the baby wakes up- thus creating less noise and more sleep for grandma & grandpa). It turned out beautifully! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibXCkAnnTG1TezKBBt2QXpD3kWWGG6YBAsIde93FhxuKDBarev6Uygr5SOO2RPen1tIuNqxtOPBpjxQtyAR1Q3T5wDWcI37-P_JxuWv_JBK3GRClDT9R-vNRpnGkdkkdDlRmNfAcJoD4w/s1600/SANY0438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibXCkAnnTG1TezKBBt2QXpD3kWWGG6YBAsIde93FhxuKDBarev6Uygr5SOO2RPen1tIuNqxtOPBpjxQtyAR1Q3T5wDWcI37-P_JxuWv_JBK3GRClDT9R-vNRpnGkdkkdDlRmNfAcJoD4w/s320/SANY0438.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
About four o'clock Lu started having contractions. She'd had some off and on for the last week but they never got regular. Well, these ones didn't either. Some were 3 minutes apart, some 10, and so on. So we decided just to go to bed. I told her if it was real labor, they'd wake her up and told her to wake me up if she needed anything in the night. We got up Monday and she said they'd kept her awake most of the night, but they still weren't regular. So we started moving stuff into their room and Luke put the crib and changing table together (let me just say here that the rest of my house looked like a hoarder's paradise because we'd moved our things out, but not into Lu's old room because I wanted to shampoo our disgustingly old carpets. So we had no less than three dressers in the living room along with a king size mattress). At 11am Lu's contractions started coming every 3 minutes. So she took a shower. And then I did. And then she refused to go to the hospital until the room was finished. That's my Lu!<br />
<br />
We finally got to the hospital around 3:15 Monday afternoon. She was dilated to a 4 and 75% effaced. They told us that first time mothers have to thin all the way before the dilating really gets going. They hooked her up to monitors, she filled out a million pieces of paperwork and at 5 the doctor came in to break her water. As anyone who's ever had a baby will tell you- that's when the contractions get more painful. Lu had decided she wanted a drug free birth, no painkillers, no epidural. She was getting more and more uncomfortable and having a load of back labor. The nurse showed us a more comfortable position and how I could press on her back to offer some relief. I was in charge of back pain relief while Luke held her hand and tried to help her stay strong and calm. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTC5Y_wYHcub1vgxkmwWqKuKdSC3t7NVnjI5DJE952jfM9hIbW1Rcm2JHFwV4_SI99hGWt6erk06QAuxmpiBYyRFu-zZW4iHQ8ROqc3AQt3pctIi_dgbX2uzAOpRkCcFi414T7daHCeRg/s1600/SANY0393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTC5Y_wYHcub1vgxkmwWqKuKdSC3t7NVnjI5DJE952jfM9hIbW1Rcm2JHFwV4_SI99hGWt6erk06QAuxmpiBYyRFu-zZW4iHQ8ROqc3AQt3pctIi_dgbX2uzAOpRkCcFi414T7daHCeRg/s320/SANY0393.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Breathing through a contraction</div><br />
About 7pm she got to get into a whirlpool tub (where the hell was that when I was in labor??). It helped with the pain alot and she stayed in there for an hour. By this time, contractions were much stronger and she debated on a painkiller shot. Luke and I both told her it was her decision. The nurse checked again and 8pm she had completely thinned out and dilated to a 6. Things were moving rapidly. Back in bed, the pain was worse, much worse and I called the nurse back in at 8:30. She had dilated to an 8! 2 centimeters in half an hour! The nurse explained that that was why the contractions were so strong and close together, because she was having a lot of rapid movement in the cervix. We asked for a shot of Nubain (a mild painkiller). Lu had debated on an epidural but decided against it and by then it was too late anyway. The next hour and a half were filled with more strong contractions, but thankfully the tiny shot had helped take the edge off. The nurse came in at 10:45 and asked Lu if she was beginning to push during contractions. Lu told her she couldn't help it. The nurse checked and she was dilated to 10 and completely thinned! Time to push! The nurse called the doctor who didn't believe Lu was already ready to push. She thought the pushing would take longer.<br />
<br />
Luke decided he'd stay by Lu's head and I'd be the one holding her leg and seeing the birth. And what a sight to see. The doctor barely arrived in time. Lu only pushed for 18 minutes and part of that time was the nurses telling her not to push because we had to wait for the doctor and them trying to keep the baby's head in the canal! Lu was a trooper and baby Dylan was born at 11:16pm on July 18, 2011. He weighed 7lbs 10 oz and was 19 inches long. Lu had no ripping or tearing or bruising. Unbelievable.<br />
<br />
!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruAJ9UukXH4S-VDcyT7yXwMqQezSs8pnt8Rl_GAkgbBC2ZDm3s3orNZuc7xwoCx_dnl_6JpWzft3RNRkG9tmAHWe7VDSt9dDNKCzrjfJoq6mX3UQLEuUfmmIXMuVtryDEJ1xmDqlzpzU/s1600/SANY0397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruAJ9UukXH4S-VDcyT7yXwMqQezSs8pnt8Rl_GAkgbBC2ZDm3s3orNZuc7xwoCx_dnl_6JpWzft3RNRkG9tmAHWe7VDSt9dDNKCzrjfJoq6mX3UQLEuUfmmIXMuVtryDEJ1xmDqlzpzU/s320/SANY0397.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Baby Dylan♥</div><br />
I've never been on that end of the birthing before and it was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. Luke and I both cried at the absolute awesomeness of the miracle of birth. And I'm so proud of Lu for sticking to her guns and pushing through the pain to have the birth she wanted. The nurses were amazed too and kept praising her.<br />
<br />
The very next morning she was up and about, showering and even wearing makeup. That's my Lu!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcU5gd3MV_4Zidc4F3vui3YtigIJZ-Qyyx44iNTp18F92jjHiJKZf7kNoWLNR4tFOz8ZzXLkIMr987jHh17CkiaI1r7Jj4vvx6NnmBFpf6dEboGuB6vQ9vPM42PgHrYFTFHMqbeNFtVaM/s1600/SANY0408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcU5gd3MV_4Zidc4F3vui3YtigIJZ-Qyyx44iNTp18F92jjHiJKZf7kNoWLNR4tFOz8ZzXLkIMr987jHh17CkiaI1r7Jj4vvx6NnmBFpf6dEboGuB6vQ9vPM42PgHrYFTFHMqbeNFtVaM/s320/SANY0408.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">The very next morning!</div><br />
Both mother and baby are doing great a week and a half later. In fact Dylan has already surpassed his birth weight and is up to 7lbs 14 oz. He's thriving. And he's a super chill baby that doesn't cry or fuss much at all. He doesn't enjoy diaper changes or being really hungry, but other than that he's a quiet happy baby who seems to really take in his surroundings. He loves to be talked and sung too. And yes, I am a very proud grandma!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuaH_DMwKuH9-LuN8CJ4KcHkJAnzaveP8ONoUBp6wqnA-ebxGcVM9QNKClGTbWAHAQQfv2NQjr0VkktPP8C7-_ER01AIZQP9sVbpFPx2GR52ZNfadAmHAU2aMBsI45Fc7EAkaFVfOpaYM/s1600/SANY0432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuaH_DMwKuH9-LuN8CJ4KcHkJAnzaveP8ONoUBp6wqnA-ebxGcVM9QNKClGTbWAHAQQfv2NQjr0VkktPP8C7-_ER01AIZQP9sVbpFPx2GR52ZNfadAmHAU2aMBsI45Fc7EAkaFVfOpaYM/s320/SANY0432.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
Sleepy baby & sleepy mommy</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeGz-f3FhnwDOR91JoHSrlG07M4cWl1cgVMO7vDRYktv00w-qtXSJ7XZQ6Hlt0eP7o9hiL7Wj45HZp08W8ZmK_QcwHyGvrwjJAswvAILfAknY7X6XEwKUoFv0kAviizJZUzTbIyoW6nM/s1600/SDC11830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeGz-f3FhnwDOR91JoHSrlG07M4cWl1cgVMO7vDRYktv00w-qtXSJ7XZQ6Hlt0eP7o9hiL7Wj45HZp08W8ZmK_QcwHyGvrwjJAswvAILfAknY7X6XEwKUoFv0kAviizJZUzTbIyoW6nM/s320/SDC11830.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">What a cutie, frowny face and all!<br />
<br />
</div>Now for the other child...<br />
<br />
Sean has been working for Camp Callahan again this year and feels his responsibilities keenly. He knew Lu was in labor but couldn't get away until he'd gotten his campers to bed. So he was headed to the hospital at 10pm that night. We'd told him to drive Lu's car because he had a taillight out on his truck and we didn't want him to get a ticket. He called me at 10:45pm to tell me he'd had an accident and was pretty sure he'd totaled Lu's car. He tried to give me details but he was shaken up and hard to understand and Lu was starting to push! So I told him to call his Dad (who was in the waiting room, not in the thick of things!). It seems he was going way to fast on the little blacktop road that runs from our gravel to the highway. He was trying to make it to the hospital in time. Apparently Lu's headlights aren't that great and it was a dark night. Somehow, he managed to miss the stop sign that is where the blacktop meets the highway. He ended up flying across the highway and up a 5ft embankment, coming to rest in the yard of the house that sits there. 6 inches to the left and he would have hit a tree. Another foot and he'd have hit the water meter. I have no idea how he did it.<br />
<br />
In typical Sean fashion though, he knocked on the door and told the girl who answered he'd parked his car in their yard and could he borrow her cell phone? Apparently his was dead. After he called us, he sat on the porch with the girl (the house owner's girlfriend. the house owner wasn't home). He had a first aid kit in his bag which he used to bandage his hand- it had gotten bruised and burned by the airbag. (Thankfully that was his only injury) He also had oatmeal cookies and Gatorade which he shared with her. He ended up getting a ticket for "failure to reduce speed to avoid an accident". He could have ended up with three tickets and a suspended license. We are still waiting to see if the insurance company totals Lu's car or fixes it again. Sean's insurance just went way up, I have no doubt.<br />
<br />
Lucky for Sean, we all had something to distract us, so he didn't get in to too much trouble.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgys7PUNH9FVNPJx-tCJuptniG54AlU0PxqZBWTvEJj6Iur2ALpQyE-LBlh2FRDEqU1eixVGjNHWmX9eLmNUjAzKuyvNel48tuVV9atE86ETLpWuD_sJLyEp3S9-QoS7Kt4jlG3TaYvLRw/s1600/SANY0431.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgys7PUNH9FVNPJx-tCJuptniG54AlU0PxqZBWTvEJj6Iur2ALpQyE-LBlh2FRDEqU1eixVGjNHWmX9eLmNUjAzKuyvNel48tuVV9atE86ETLpWuD_sJLyEp3S9-QoS7Kt4jlG3TaYvLRw/s320/SANY0431.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Uncle Sean</div>What a night! Here's a few more of my favorite pictures:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfVktUVeaEaeeUab7qHPUejPBU-uLzlfcRyLOJo1zXp0m43NBbydevFfBw0ZJMkpYV0FOaNouGHy3fzAdLitw-tDzgz0aEBDVzNFyJ54-JySGY3C77opuk6AorsejN0-8yWjzdSuo1SNM/s1600/SANY0413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfVktUVeaEaeeUab7qHPUejPBU-uLzlfcRyLOJo1zXp0m43NBbydevFfBw0ZJMkpYV0FOaNouGHy3fzAdLitw-tDzgz0aEBDVzNFyJ54-JySGY3C77opuk6AorsejN0-8yWjzdSuo1SNM/s320/SANY0413.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
Happy Family♥</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGlHyp9LhA7nMVbpj4mgAc8jS2pki1ZHp5eOL19lYgFdYtxcj6hVRd4nzOmTxF6sptjTta0JtfvyZFJU3DnXTgMSABVB296Bz2dT3jy6V1ffhkNwM7UVM-AAf7LyoewAyahL7qcEoF1k/s1600/SANY0418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGlHyp9LhA7nMVbpj4mgAc8jS2pki1ZHp5eOL19lYgFdYtxcj6hVRd4nzOmTxF6sptjTta0JtfvyZFJU3DnXTgMSABVB296Bz2dT3jy6V1ffhkNwM7UVM-AAf7LyoewAyahL7qcEoF1k/s320/SANY0418.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
Could they be more beautiful?!<br />
<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho33Sv42TcwIosgar3-g1GRqPyIcanGrinANNoAv5SsOz9_Cd3dGR8zoMxW1WOHY9xKNvG93mTuHB0GF84Iz9LffhmvsLqGEeRDxDgCHsVmHAnFsAC5HeEiwjXFF2r01Ty8EJbjIYwGgI/s1600/SANY0434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho33Sv42TcwIosgar3-g1GRqPyIcanGrinANNoAv5SsOz9_Cd3dGR8zoMxW1WOHY9xKNvG93mTuHB0GF84Iz9LffhmvsLqGEeRDxDgCHsVmHAnFsAC5HeEiwjXFF2r01Ty8EJbjIYwGgI/s320/SANY0434.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Grandpa & Dylan</div>Isn't life grand?<br />
<br />
♥SpotSpothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12761441168024967277noreply@blogger.com8