Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Thank You Very Much

Kmama is back! And so is her weekly free therapy, Thank You Very Much!


The Daily Dribbles

First off, y’all know that there are definitely situations that merit a whole THANK YOU VERY MUCH dedication of their own, and you just have to bite your tongue fingers and bail on posting it.  Cuz you never know who might be lurking - that you know in real life - who hasn’t admitted it.  I mean, can you imagine if our coworkers read our TST  posts?  They’d take Mr. Daddy’s tools away and purposely lock me outside…

(And I’m not talking about you guys SRJR – I know you laugh at all the goofy stories you were there for, but are stinkers about leaving zero comments ;)

Let’s just say there was a bit of Christmas drama that completely did not need to happen.  And in the middle of a celebration of the Greatest Gift, I was so dumbfounded by selfishness… that I admit to popping off a singular uncharacteristic retort to the rudeness.  Thankfully it was not a blood relative of ours, otherwise I would have asked them to step outside for a grande battement demonstration (translation – a ballet kick to their unkind butt).

Now that I’ve left you totally perplexed by lack of details, I’ll say that it feels almost as good as saying a Thank You Very Much to the situation and now I can pretend it’s resolved, right? :)


To whomever decided to UNFOLLOW (yes, the word deserves all caps) us over Christmas, Thank You Very Much!  Seriously???  How did you even have time to blog hop over the holidays, much less to give us that lump of coal?  I am sorry we posted: too much/too little/too many crazy stories/too much information.

And to the THREE NEW FOLLOWERS … mwah!  love love!  Truly Thank You Very Much!


To my child who was “asleep” in his bed for an hour before suddenly screaming and causing me to race across the house in a blind panic, Thank You Very Much.

To the Christmas tree that necessitated the furniture rearrangement in the living room, Thank You Very Much.

To the Unbelievably SOLID coffee table that was now placed directly in my blind panic path, Thank You Very Much.


To Mr. Daddy who made that Unbelievably SOLID piece of furniture that destroyed my kneecap, Thank You Very Much.

To the screaming child that I breathlessly limped to rescue… who calmly said, “I hafta go pee pee” to my tear-streaked face… Thank You Very Much.

(and you are so, so lucky you’re cute, dude)

To the tv commercial that immediately aired as I dragged myself back to the living room…


Are you kidding me?!?  To the universe that conspired to mock my pain, Thank You Very Much.


Oy… I feel better.  Well, except for the bum knee, that is.  Go hang out with Kmama for more!

Monday, December 28, 2009

True Story Tuesday by Rachel

True Story Tuesday?  Already?  I’m still recovering from the holiday hangover.  Not an alcoholic one, but… you’ll see…

First order of business… did y’all get a gander at my husband’s mad poetry skilz?   Really and truly he wrote that (here).  And I laughed myself to tears over it and it would have been an amazing Christmas gift all in itself.  No, I did not receive any firearms for Christmas (sigh of relief), but I did receive a pair of what Mr. Daddy lovingly refers to as “gogo boots” (cuz any kind of heel on this vertically-challenged chick is rather noticeable).

And the usual order of business – I just know y’all have some Crazy Christmas Capers to blog about, right?  To make it easier, maybe you’ve already posted one of those outrageous, hilarious, amazing, miraculous stories – and would love some linky love… just grab the TST code from the sidebar and add your link to the list.  We’ll be around with some comment fun :)  (And Linny – you SO need to share your Christmas miracle!)


WITH much further ado… I give you:


Cheers to You

We had a MARVELOUS Christmas – with a kiddo who is now thoroughly confused when we visit anyone’s house and they don’t immediately offer him a present.  At least it’s better than carrying him through a crowded store with him screaming about the obscene-sounding toy he wants, remember last year?

We had extended family coming up for the holidays and I thought it would be way cool to order up some custom Jones Soda.

See, you can put whatever picture you want on the bottle, and they even give you room for a message on the back.

I thought long and hard about what might be memorable, and finally decided that a picture of my grandfather would be a way to feel like he was part of our Christmas.

So I doctored up a photo – edited out the fish in his hands and added some festive touches.  I was tickled pink by the results:


I knew I was running out of time to have it delivered before our Christmas Eve celebration, so I grudgingly paid the $16.50 to have the 2-day shipping.

A week later, I tore into the box when it arrived… I was pumped beyond belief (there may or may not have been some slightly manic giggling as I envisioned everyone realizing my undeniable coolness in finding the ultimate party accessory).

My in-laws waited patiently as I pulled off layers of shipping tape and spilled packing peanuts everywhere.

I pulled out a bottle of Undeniable Coolness and displayed it triumphantly…



I was met with silence.  Disappointing, confusing silence.

I looked at their faces and looked at the Undeniable Coolness in my hands to see this:




Good Lord, who was this very surprised looking woman and why was she in my box?  What had she done with my Grandfather and how could I get him back?  And didn’t she know she was ruining my Undeniable Coolness moment???

I turned the bottle and read:



I love you so much!!”


It was too much.  I burst into hysterical laughter (bordering on “losing it” laughter) and ran to the computer to double-check the order.

I was relieved to see Grandpa’s festive mug smiling back at me – and realized the order number on the bottles was not the same.  Sonya was a long way from home, and so was my poor Grandfather.

Jones Soda had less than two days to ship me the corrected order – and they came through.  And get this… they were a total hit at the Christmas party.  Except, everyone toasted to Grandpa and drank Sonya.  Go figure…

The part that cracks me up the most?  Somewhere, there’s bound to be a blog talking about how poor Sonya’s boyfriend had some explaining to do when she received a case of  soda with a strange man’s picture.

(And if any of y’all want to show me just what a small world it is and hook me up with the other side of this story, I’ll pay a finder’s fee :)


Y’all have some good Christmas stories to share, I bet!  Want to play along and keep the goodwill going?  See you soon!

Thursday, December 24, 2009

A Christmas Ode to a Redneck's wife

by Mr. Daddy

T'was the night before Christmas and all through the house,
not a creature was stirring not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung on the bookshelf so nice,
In hopes they would fill no matter the price.

But a redneck is a redneck no matter what they say.
and his mind only works in limited ways.
And in those stockings hung with infinite care.
and under the tree, "O" what could be there?

Diamonds are nice, but priced so high
and what's up with roses' they only die?
Lotions and creams are in vogue it seems
but they are all scented and girly, what could this mean?

There are coats and hats and boots to choose from.
Do you think she would be mad if I bought her a gun?
The patterns of camo to choose from puts my mind in a spin.
but surely on her pretty face they will put a grin.

What need have we of The Bon or Claire's?
We have a Cabela's, yes we will shop there.
With full lines of RealTree, Primos and Glocks,
Winchesters and Remingtons, just what every girl wants.

For fishing, there's waders and poles galore.
Reels, hooks and sinkers, and "O" so much more.
My gal's a peach that I can get her these gifts;
she even lets me use them when she is home with the kids.

A new boat would be nice, but she is so demure.
She won't ask for one outright, but she will be happy I'm sure.
Inboard or outboard, cuddy cabin or sled;
I don't think she will care as she lays in her bed.

Now for a new truck to pull it, these decisions are hard
but I will sacrifice for her and get her a Ford.
A crew cab for all her buddies girlfriends, how thoughtful and nice...
with a spring over lift, big tires and chrome tail pipes.

My gal's a stylin - a real rednecks dream.
I'd buy her anything or so it would seem.
Can't wait for Christmas morning to witness the sight
of her screams of excitement, and pure delight.

Can't wait for morning to open our her gifts
each one bought with such thoughtfulness, her spirits to lift.
Truck, boat and equipment so perfect for me her
this Christmas will be special, just perfect I'm sure.

So my special Lady I do salute.
And for all this neat stuff she probably wont give a hoot.
but we she will be so happy excited and glad
cause she loves to share and that ain't so bad...

"O" how I love you, Lady of my dreams
you are so special, we make a great team.
Saint Nick couldn't of done better or so it would seem.
Cause this redneck can use them if you aren't too pleased..

Merry Christmas my dear, my aim was to please
it's just not to clear if they are for you or for me...

I love you Babe.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

The Forgotten Man

I don't know... I posted this last year and it just seems like a good time to remind myself...

I've been looking through old photos and delighting in the happy memories, and sighing that time has flown by so quickly.

I stumbled upon this photo - Mr. Daddy and Itty Bit when he was just a few hours old.  It was taken in the wee hours of the morning after an exhilarating and tiring day.

There's nothing quite like a father's love, is there?

And I was struck by how often our brain automatically completes the original Christmas story... we know all the characters: Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus.  Angels and shepherds and wisemen and a meanie king.

At least for me, my mind often slips right past Joseph.  The man who held that brand new infant and had to think about the huge task before him.  How to raise the Son of God when he was an imperfect man himself.  How to be married to the Mother of God and share the knowledge that their son was sent as a sacrifice.

And I'm grateful.  Mary often gets the credit, but knowing that Joseph was REAL - as real as the picture above - just blows me away.

The rest of the post from last year - puts it in perspective for me when I consider that that perfect child's Heavenly Father had to love beyon human understanding to send His son.

Several years ago I was invited to dance at a Christmas Eve service. I was all set to go with Welcome to Our World by Chris Rice - beautiful and simple lyrics.

As I drove there, a recent article I'd read popped into my head.

It was about a family who had a very sick child. One that would die without a bone marrow transplant. They'd had no success in finding a match, and had made the decision to attempt to conceive another child who could be a match and save the older sibling's life.

The human side of me thought it was such a clinical-sounding decision.

The value of that new baby was just to help another child?

And on that cold winter night as my car pulled into the church parking lot in front of their lit Nativity display... I realized that God had made that decision for us.

He sent a baby. The only one in the world who would have the right blood type to save us. The only one who could heal us and give us life.

Only He knew that it would cost everything.

If it does not leave you speechless to understand truly - that the Creator of the universe saw fit to do that for YOU... I can only think it is too big to grasp - like it is for me. You and I were, are, that important to Him.

I've experienced delivering a child and not knowing if he would live.  But to know before that moment?  To have watched my sister deliver Gracie, knowing that her time on earth would be short?  I can tell you from experience that it does not, can not take away from the amazing realization that in the brand new life, you've just seen a gift from the hand of God.

Somehow - knowing all that would come - there had to be that amazing miraculous stillness once the Son of God was in his parents' arms.  Isn't that as close to Heaven as it gets?

Silent night
Holy night
All is calm
All is bright
'Round yon virgin
Mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in Heavenly peace
Sleep in Heavenly peace

Monday, December 21, 2009

True Story Tuesday by Rachel

Hey y’all… True Story Tuesday snuck up on us again :)

It’s that time of week to share your amazing, hilarious, miraculous, outrageous, no-way-that-happened-in-real-life, (mostly) true tale.

Grab the code from the sidebar, toss it in your post and link up your story for some comment love!



Wuv, Twue Wuv


This week is a special Anniversary Edition.  Yep, that’s right… the celebration of the day Mr. Daddy finally decided to marry this girl.

What were we thinking???

Well, actually… we were thinking of having a fancy dinner party and shocking my mother by casually mentioning saying our vows right then and there.  We ultimately decided to spare her the cardiac arrest and get married in a bonafide shindig.

Except, what were we thinking???

We had known each other a decade before friendship turned into that thing where the familiar grin suddenly gives you butterflies.  Madly in love, we decided to get married before the year was over.

Uhh yeah, what were we thinking???

The end of December?!?  Oh yeah.

When a million other things are happening?  You bet.

You know what it did?  It filtered out all the million little details that weren’t going to make or break the day.  The church was decorated for the season – we married in the twinkle of Christmas lights and candles.  Only our closest family members were there – no stress over a burgeoning guest list (“if we invite Christy, we have to invite Lisa… who will bring Mark and he’ll mention it to Jason who will ask Jennifer why they weren’t invited”).

Our heartfelt vows were officiated by the brother of one of our best friends, the evening was magical.  As husband and wife, we walked back down the aisle together…  straight to the banana split party that was awaiting us.

(Absolutely, yes we did).

That big shindig?  It was the next day… that burgeoning guest list?  It was any and everyone who wanted to join us two days before Christmas.  It was absolutely perfect.

And… since this wouldn’t be a True Story Tuesday without adding a crazy part…


Mr. Daddy had nervously asked if I wanted to see an heirloom set of family rings.  His parents carefully slid out an old envelope and revealed a sparkling antique platinum wedding set.  I sat there speechless as the most beautiful and unique rings fit perfectly on my finger.  (Umm… Mr. Daddy hadn’t mentioned THE ROCK).

I was completely sold and tickled pink that they had welcomed me into the family like this.  So we just had Mr. Daddy’s ring left to go.

We headed to the local Ben Bridge and I talked Mr. Daddy into agreeing to a little bling.  I returned a few days before the wedding to pick it up.  The woman asked if I wanted a teddy bear to put the box in.  (Why people put boxes in teddy bears is beyond me, but she said the first edition Ben Bridge bear sold for $$, so I though ah heck, a free teddy bear with a weird zippered tummy).

When she went to put the box inside, her eyes suddenly widened.  She slowly pulled out another box and gasped as she opened it.  She had very nearly given me a weird-zippered-tummy-teddy-bear with a ring already inside it.

And the kicker?  Remember it was a week before Christmas?  That ring was supposed to be in Germany.  Oopsie.

But Mr. Daddy’s ring was stylin’.  Remember this, stylin’.


Back to after the wedding… we’d booked a belated honeymoon and decided to stay in town for awhile.  After the reception celebration wound down, we headed out to buy our Christmas present to each other.

Yes… it was a big flatscreen tv to watch baseball on.  Romantic, no?

Even more romantic, fresh off our reception the wife is haggling with the salesguy over their price-match guarantee and getting an education on how high-def technology works (don’t ask me, I still don’t get it).

We proudly approach the checkout with our first joint purchase in a huge box behind us.  As the new husband is filling out the paperwork, this new wife just happens to be admiring her ring.

And in a romantic gesture, I reach out to hold that handsome man’s hand and look at his ring too.

His beautiful platinum stylin’ ring.

With a gaping hole in the center.

Yes my friends… two stinkin hours after our reception, Mr. Daddy’s wedding ring had fallen apart.

To say I was mortified would be an understatement.

This brand new bride and her rock-less husband hauled butt with their new flatscreen tv wedged into the car – all the way over to the jewelry store where said new wife showed them the very unstylin’ ring.

They were rather shocked to realize the ring had been worn for less than 24 hours… good thing I don’t believe in omens, eh?

Sooo… don’t miss out on one of the funniest 40 seconds of your life… just press play and take a break from the holiday stress.  Then go link your funnies up :)  Pretty please?

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Not Me Monday - A Giveaway Gone Wrong

Seriously, how bad do you have to screw things up to be able to make an entire Not Me Monday post out of it?

I’m talented like that (no comments from the peanut gallery).

Thanks to MckMama for the chance to confess everything we have Not done this past week – in an effort to inspire kinship with all you other perfect people :)

Go check ‘em out if you survive this story…


So… remember waaay back when we threw a quick giveaway?  And how nothing can ever go as planned around moi?

See, poor SHMODE won the awesome giveaway that was part of a fundraiser for AmyB’s son.  You’ll see why I say “poor” in just a minute.

She was supposed to get a terrific COURAGE t-shirt… and I’d also ordered one for myself.  The order had been delayed and our poor winner had been uber-patient.

When the t-shirts arrived during an insanely hectic week, I tore into the shipping bag and squealed in glee.

Then I stepped out to check the shipping rates to Canada, give the kid a bath, feed the horses, wrangle 16 loads of laundry, and clean the kitchen.

When I was all done, this was Not my frantic letter to poor Shmode:

Hi  -
I have tried and cried and pulled my hair out... and I have come to the unavoidable conclusion that I am hopelessly frazzled and I can't put off writing this email any longer...

A few days ago, the package of t-shirts finally came!  I was thrilled and immediately set aside yours to take to the shipping center.

Unfortunately, the t-shirt decided to take a trip, and I have a horrible sneaking suspicion that it got scooped up with all the packaging and taken out with the trash :(  (This is the point of the story where I blame my husband, though I'm not sure who cleared the counter of the 15 packages that came that day).

I have turned the house upside down and have not been able to locate it.  I offer my profound apologies and wanted to make this right.  If you like, I can order the exact same t-shirt and have it shipped directly to you... or you can choose any other similar-priced item from their website? You might even like something better than the t-shirt, and that's fine.  I feel awful about this and have been dreading sending this email (in hopes that somehow my 3-year old hid the shirt somewhere and I have yet to find it???)

Or I can send you an Amazon gift card via email, or Target, or Starbucks, or whatever you'd like?  I don't know what's local to you, but would dearly like you to enjoy your prize!  Please let me know and I'll jump right on it.

Again, I am SO very sorry.  (We call this "Mommy Brain" around here :(

Poor Ms. Shmode did Not e-mail me back this sweet reply:

Hi Rachel!

Hmmmm ... I may have a better idea.  I really was concerned about the amount of shipping, and not truly in need of another t-shirt, so how about you make a donation to somewhere special to you, some kind of charity in the amount the tee was worth.  I'm happy with that, I'm sure you'd be, and my drawer would thank you ;).  I'm okay with whatever charity you can think of.

Oh, and I have mommy brain on a daily basis myself and always, ALWAYS blame it on my husband. *snort*  Please don't beat yourself up about it, but I must say there must be a blog post with pictures about the t-shirt, and maybe even a "Not me" moment about it? ;).

Merry Christmas Rachel & Mr. Daddy, and of course Itty Bit.


To which I then did Not reply:

Oh my goodness - are you the sweetest thing ever.

Though I have to admit, you being so understanding of my idiotness actually made me feel worse.  I mean, at least you could have thrown a "gee, you've really lost it" in there somewhere, right? :)

Howsabout a compromise?  And I promise, it sure seemed like a "God" thing because I hopped onto Etsy (my current addiction) and searched for sellers in Canada.  Because I just KNEW someone there wouldn't charge an arm and a leg for shipping and they might have something really special.

So imagine my surprise when up pops one of my favorite sellers - though I had yet to buy anything from them... so I figured it was meant to be.  Then I saw exactly what I would love for myself and hoped you would like it too.  And it cost the exact stinkin same amount as that t-shirt (may it rest in peace).

I wasn't feeling as bad about the t-shirt anymore because I knew the purchase price went as a donation for AmyB's son - but I was sure glad not to have left you with *nothing* after winning the giveaway!

So... I'll do as you so generously suggested - we'll still donate to our favorite cause in your honor - and you can expect something in the mail from an Esty seller soon!  The order was completed yesterday, so it should be on the way quick!

(And yes, I ordered one for myself and experienced the strange feeling of realizing it cost more to ship to ME, lol).
And yep... the whole Mommy Brain incident sure merits a blog post - though I'll wait till you get your prize and you can tell me if you love it or hate it or re-gifted it (I won't be offended, I promise!  I mean, heck... I threw your shirt away!  maybe.  probably...)

Looking forward to catching up with you when you get it - let me know and we'll let everyone else have a laugh at my expense! :)

Merry Christmas,
That sweet woman did Not turn around and send me an email that left me howling in laughter:

Hey crazy lady, you've lost your mind! 

Was that good? ;)

I do love a surprise, I can't wait to see what it is when it gets here!  I did laugh, but only a little, when you said the shipping was more to you than to me. 

I read this email and then later on in the day (yesterday) a small package came in the mail. I was thrilled thinking it was this Etsy product you ordered and couldn't believe how fast it shipped.  I opened it up and it was a teeny silicon keyboard brush... uhhh, thanks Rachel?  I burst out laughing, truly thinking that it was the gift (I know it's rude to laugh at a gift, but it was funny).  Then I remembered I had ordered that myself a few weeks back and forgot about it.  I had my own 'duh' moment yesterday, and I thought you'd get a laugh out of it.


I am Not still feeling slightly mortified that I threw someone’s prize away.  I am Not totally cracking up about the ensuing hilarity.  I am Not kinda sorta worried that she’ll get her substitute prize and go, “huh?  I want the t-shirt”.

Thanks Shmode – for being such a good sport.  You’re a peach.  Hope you get your REAL prize in time for Christmas!


So now that I’ve bared my never-happened emails to you, don’t y’all feel like spreading a little holiday cheer Not Me Monday style? :)

Friday, December 18, 2009

Letter of Intent by Mr. Daddy

Joining Julie from Fourson's for this week's Letters of Intent. Thank you to all of our service people - especially those who are spending this holiday season away from family.

Letters of Intent

My thanks to the only two defining forces that have ever shed their life's blood for my, Life, Liberty, and Freedom

Thank you to the American servicemen and women.

And thank you God, for the giving of your son, the real reason for the season.

I am so proud and glad to be an American....

and so humbled and honored to be a son of the living God....

would you all take a moment to say THANK YOU! I love you.....God bless you

For all that we have...

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!!!!

A Different Kind of Christmas Poem

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,

I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.

My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts.
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."

"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.

I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.

I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother.
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."

"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?

It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.

To fight for our rights back home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.

Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN 30th Naval Construction Regiment
OIC, Logistics Cell One
Al Taqqadum, Iraq

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Thank You Very Much

Thanks to KMama, we get some free therapy in the form of some focused gratefulness… and I’m nothing if not grateful, right? :)

Check out her carnival and maybe you’ll recognize your own list in there!


To the month of December… where the heck did you go?


Frankly, your disappearing act couldn’t come at a worse time when I have a million things to do, Thank You Very Much.

And if you’re gonna give us some snow… quit teasing us with a dusting.  At least give us a foot and let us stay home from work, Thank You Very Much!

Though I’m not so sure Itty Bit would ask for snow if it means this kind of loving quality time with Daddy?



To our lovely blog commenters who read the last True Story Tuesday post and were so very sympathetic… Thank  You Very Much for displaying your empathy by asking for a reenactment (complete with photos no less!)

For your viewing pleasure, I give you The Frightened Ballerina:

tutu_adventure_Page_0[1] There.

You happy?

So sweet of you to be so concerned, Thank  You Very Much :)


To my child who does NOT KNOW HOW TO EAT AN APPLE… quit that!  Thank You Very Much.


Do not listen to her… do not listen to her…





To that insane addiction I have called Etsy… we must stop meeting like this.  Truly!  Christmas shopping is done and the Paypal account can’t keep up, Thank You Very Much.  Please do not convince me… even with your cohort Word Verification…



Ahh, I feel better now.  Don’t you?  Head on over to check out some more gratefulness!

The Daily Dribbles

Monday, December 14, 2009

True Story Tuesday by Rachel

Hey y’all!  Time for True Story Tuesday – a place for all those family legends and random hilarious stories.  For those truly outrageous or miraculous moments.  Anything amazing and (mostly) true that has happened to you!

Y’all know the rules – just grab the button code from the sidebar, stick it in your post, then link it up for some comment love!



Up On the Housetop Rach-Dear Pause

(Yeah, I know… corny… even for me.)

With all the holiday traditions being posted with loving descriptions and pictures all of your blogs, I thought I’d give y’all a dose of what the joyous reality can be like with me in your life.

We were about to celebrate Christmas in a the new house in the burbs.  We were living here:


Except that there were no houses nearby.  It was a brand new neighborhood and there were a grand total of two completed and three under construction.

Me – the let’s go crazy with Christmas decorations chick - (remember the joyous part?) had ascertained that we most definitely needed to cheer up the lonely neighborhood.

So we pulled these out:


(Umm, actually we didn’t… it was those horrible icicle strands that blew up onto the roof eleventy hundred times daily, but we’ll forget that part, k?  Remember, joyous?)

So in an effort to assist with the joy-making, I joined the husband in untangling the ungodly mess laying out the lights on the roof.

We climbed through the second story window (see that arrow?) and carefully attached the lights to every single peak and corner.  Then turned back to do the second story and dormer.

The husband had placed a towel between the window and the frame… but man it was getting cold.  I went inside to grab another set of extension cords, hopped back out the window, kicked the towel out of the way so the window could shut and keep the breeze out, and took half a step.

Yes friends, it was the CLICK heard ‘round the world.  Even by a deaf person.

I knew without a shadow of doubt what had just happened.

The hubs had noticed the spring loaded locking mechanism on the window… the dear wifey had most assuredly NOT.

Deep breath, joyous ,remember?

So there we were… stuck on top of the roof.  With not a single soul around.

We tried yelling for awhile, but there wasn’t anyone to hear.  It got colder and colder.

Finally a car approached on the main road.  And I knew we were saved!  I recognized the awesome classic convertible that my coworker drove and knew he’d recognize us too!  So we jumped and waved and yelled our heads off!

Dave!  Dave!  We’re stuck!  Come here!  We’re locked out!  Dave!




The dude actually waved back at us and drove on by.

Yeah, joyous.

We were gonna be losing daylight soon and we were having to move to keep warm.  What could be worse?

(Trust me, NEVER ask yourself that).

Oh Lordy… it started to S N O W.

Snowflake_300hMultiply that picture by 50 million and you’ll have the mini-blizzard that suddenly joined our adventure.  I’d had it.

See that little bay window sticking out on the right side of the house?  I crawled over the second story roof and hung like a terrified monkey until I finally prayed forgiveness for all my sins and dropped down onto the top of that tiny window.

And the joyous part?  I hung on too long and pulled that muscle that connects your neck to the rest of your body.  The one that, when injured, basically ensures you will walk around with your ear glued to your shoulder to lessen the pain.  Yeah, that one.

And after all that (says the joyous girl who is now scrunched in pain), the moment of idiot bravery passes and now I am TERRIFIED to jump from the first story down to the ground.

Completely logical, right?

All I can think of is landing on that concrete in a way that would guarantee splintered bones and dashed ballet company dreams (yes, I was still dancing at the time and it was Nutcracker season).  I just could NOT figure out how to jete myself safely off the roof.

So I cringed there in panic as the husband patiently (and with much exasperation) attempted to cajole me into leaping to certain death braving one more jump.

No dice.  I was royally freaked-out.  I was gonna be found by construction workers the next week, all curled up in a ball, covered in snowflakes, iced to the top of that bay window.  Joyous, people, joyous!

Suddenly, a random car pulled into the construction zone.  Both of us started screaming like it was the end of the world – jumping up and down and waving our arms (well, my one good arm).

Some guy couldn’t help but be drawn to the odd scene.  He pulled over and got out.  I wouldn’t have blamed him for pretending not to see us and gotten away from those joyous yahoos as quickly as he could…

He looked normal enough (I couldn’t say the same for us), and the husband tossed down his keys so the guy could go upstairs and unlock the window.

It took a LONG time.  And in my hypothermia/neck pain/panic… I finally yelled up to the husband,

“If he comes out with the TV, I’m JUMPING!”

Finally the dude opened the window, and the guys together pull me in through the office window above the bay window.  He cracked up at our story, explained that he doesn’t even live in the state and is only visiting for the holidays.  Ear glued to my shoulder, I awkwardly offered Mr. Stranger Dude my thanks.  (I mean, the guy pulled me in through the window by my bra.  My BRA, ladies!)

The lights were finished in a record 5 minutes.  And let’s just say that the house looked pretty darn joyous until March.


And Dave… you totally owe me one.

Real funny of you to go to work and tell everyone how dumb we were to be putting up lights while it was snowing.  Yeah dude… God’ll get ya :)


Come on – you’ve gotta have some terrific Christmas stories that are as joyous as this one, right?  Just link up your old or new post below and we’ll spread some holiday comment cheer!


Sunday, December 13, 2009

Not Me Monday!

I thought I just wrote one of these?!?  Oh yeah, it’s Christmastime – the season where the days just fly by.  So it really truly was something like yesterday when I last wrote about everything I didn’t do, right?

Join MckMama for some more free therapy!


Just a quick clarification from last week… y’all didn’t seriously believe me when I said we cut some tree down from someone’s backyard, didja?  Cuz if we did, I sure as heck wouldn’t post evidence.  You can rest assured that we paid dearly for the tree, in dollars (and blood, remember?)


And in recent news, a FREEZING COLD I CAN’T FEEL MY TOES snap has hit the Northwest.  Not me who spent a good hour breaking up ice in the horses’ water tank.  To find my prissy girl snorting at the ice on the ground like it was some kind of hostile invader.


Yes, Not my girl who is still sticking her tongue out at me every chance she gets.

And I don’t believe y’all have been introduced to Joey… the newest guy.  He is Not a friendly GIANT BABY.  He does Not stick every dadgum thing in his everlovin’ mouth (including the ice Kona was snorting at).  And as I was Not breaking up the ice in the 5 degree weather in the pitch black, he did Not show his gratefulness by grabbing my glove and dancing away with it.

You’re just lucky you’re so cute Mister.




Tempting fate, we did Not take our previously unenchanted kiddo to see Santa again.  Remember last year?  The jolly fellow did Not make the mistake of poking his cheek and the little guy did Not look like he was gonna take his finger right off.


This year, I did Not keep the kiddo happy before seeing the big guy, by letting him stuff his face with cookies beforehand.  Move on, no cookie crumbs around here.


Nor did I prep the kid beforehand to make sure he knew he could ask Santa for something if he was a good boy…


I am totally NOT admitting that my innocent three-year-old wanted a GUN from Santa.



I did Not immediately say,

His Daddy’s a hunter!

Really!  His Daddy’s a hunter!


In other holiday traditions… (not that asking Santa for a gun is traditional… oh WAIT!  A Christmas Story!!!!  *sigh*  put me back on the list for Mother of the Year!)

We made snowflakes!  Little Jo spent much time perfecting hers.


This was Not my son’s idea of a snowflake.


His poor grandmother did Not have to display it with the other grandkids’.  I am Not snickering.

He did not somehow ALSO make an unbelievable mess of tiny paper clippings in making that intricate snowflake ;)


Moving on… isn’t this the sweetest photo of my favorite girls making Christmas cookies?


Not my kiddo whose idea of helping was to get busted downing the blue sprinkles.


Somehow, the entire afternoon did Not quickly morph into this:



After such a busy day… I did Not realize Itty Bit had been unusually quiet (even for this deaf mama).  I did Not find this in the bathroom:


Oh I’ll spare you the remaining pictures… there were Not massive bubbles all down the cabinets, all over the mirror, and Mr. Daddy and I were Not slipping and sliding all over the floor trying to clean it up.  The soap dispenser is Not empty and our kid did Not go to bed early.


Seriously, what have YOU not done this week?

Hope to see you back tomorrow for True Story Tuesday!

Friday, December 11, 2009

Letter of Intent by Mr. Daddy

Oh Julie... you have no idea how bigtime you scored.  I mean... Mr. Daddy himself wrote this week's Letter of Intent!  I don't take it lightly when the man deigns to grace us with his literary talent (unless of course, that literary talent includes vivid descriptions of bodily functions and pictures of his wifey's rear end :)

Here ya go - courtesy of Mr. Daddy:

Dear Spam Inbox,

Please self delete, as I am tired of receiving stupid e-mails. Such as:

From: United Nation Remit,
Subject: ATM Card: Ref, SNT/ATM/822
(who are these people and why would they want to give me an ATM card?)

Dear Sirs,
My own federal government takes enough already, and if they won't share with you see my local government. And please let me know how that works for you????


From: Dr. Frank White
Subject: Re: please confirm your ATM card. (HUH?)

Dear Sir,
If you work for the United Nations, please see above statement...

From: Kristen Bright
Subject: ????????? ??????? ??????? ??? (I kid you not)

Dear Kristen,
I think someone made a mistake on your last name ????? ????? ????? ??


From: Compensations @ 2009
Subject: Greetings to you (HHHHmmmmmm????)

Dear Compensations @ 2009
Greetings right back at you big fella, but no I am not interested.  I will get the American dream the right way.... I will earn it. Thank you very much....

From: United Nations (AAAAAaaaaaGGggggaaiiiinnnnnnnnnnn)...
Subject: No Subject (guess they just wanted to chat)

Dear United Nations,
If you want my attention, please put something in the subject line...

From Microsoft Award team
Subject: No subject

Dear Team
See above...
P.S. Aren't you guys supposed to be computer literate????

From: Sheik Fahdi
Subject: Charity For Mankind?? (are you kidding me)

Dear Sheik,
Forgive me if I misspeak, but I have not witnessed a lot of "Charity for Mankind" from your culture. Don't you consider all but your own to be Infidels??? I am sorry if I seem a little dubious of your good intentions. But all things considered, Thanks, but no THANKS!!!

From: Michelle Write
Subject: No Subject

Dear Ms Write
Do you work for the United Nations? Or perchance are you a member of Team Microsoft? If not see above message for both of these organizations..

From: Federal Bureau of Investigation
Subject: Federal Bureau of Investigation (how original)

Dears Sirs
Can't you make better use of my tax dollars than to e-mail me five times in a row on 11/12/2009 starting at 9:37 AM and ending at 9:48 AM?????


From: Mr. Victor Edward
Subject: Thank you

Dear Mr. Edward,
you are very welcome (I think, he seemed nice enough.)

From: Katya M.
Subject: The Reason of love matter most

Dear Katya,
The only reason I could see for that kind of love, would be if I hadn't already found the love of my life... (thanks but no thanks)


From: Bingo Lotto
Subject: YOU HAVE WON $850.000 US dollars (as compared to what other kind of dollars?)

Dear Bingo Lotto,
I will believe that when monkeys fly outta my butt....

(Rach in:  Dear, don't tempt fate...)


From: Ptwooy
Subject: Come on, Baby, gr8hunter7153 ("O" my, sure hope Rach doesn't see this one)

Dear Ptwooy,
Do you work in the same establishment as Ms. Katya???

From: Oll A
Subject: I want to find you, my prince! (I think my Princess, is going to have a problem with this???)

Dear Oll A
Would you let the rest of the gals in your crib know that I'm not interested!!!! PLEASE...

From: Dr. Scot Van
Subject? Hi, reply back

Dear Dr. Van (or whoever you are) I don't think so Dude!!!!

From: Mr. Allen Akoto
Subject: Good Day SIR/Madam

Dear Mr. Akoto,
Could you please be a little more specific????

From: Mrs. Johanne Brunet
Subject: CALL Dr. Bekkens

Dear Ms. Brunet
This might be totally off subject, but I just got to know..... Do you think your parents ever thought of naming you Ima???? Cause Ima thinking you might be blonde... trying to get someone to fall for this crapola...


And I will close with this one.... whose parents coulda named her Ringa...... (snicker)

From:Mrs. Monica Ting
Subject: Winning Number...............................................7467934 (go ahead and use them...If you are feeling lucky) LOL

Dear Mrs. Ting
I have decided to go with the present administrations direction and redistributed the wealth...
And I have shared with All of Bloggyland my winning numbers...LOL

Lots of luck people, see you in the soup line....ROFL

Sincerely, Mr. Daddy

Just got this one at the last minute...

From: FBI (sounds serious)
Subject: FBI office get back to us immediately

Dear Sirs
If you really want me that badly I'm sure you know where to find me...If not I will be in the soup line with all of my buddies....(*Hee Hee*)


Rach in:  Alrighty... I'm still snickering.  Time to go check out the rest of bloggyland at Foursons who got their Letters of Intent up a wee bit earlier on this blessed day before the weekend :)

Letters of Intent

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Thank You Very Much

Technically there’s still a few minutes of Thursday left, so I’m still on time, right?!?!  Time to join KMama and her Thank You Very Much therapy.  Therapy?  You say I need therapy?  (you bet I do)

This may possibly be insanely boring as my brain cells are running on fumes at this late hour…  But I sure didn’t want to miss out on a chance to express my sincere gratefulness this week…


To the VERY lucky dude who decided that three and a half inches from my driver’s door is where your big rig had to park… those lines are there for a reason, Thank You Very Much.

parked-too-close  (I didn’t have my camera, but seriously – it was THAT close!)

I did not appreciate having to contemplate crawling in through the passenger side.  I believe that you owe me a letter of thanks for not “accidentally” smashing my door into yours.  Kinda like you “accidentally” didn’t see the lines.  I like my letters of thanks with milk chocolate, Ghiradelli preferrably.  Thank You Very Much.


And when I relayed the story to Mr. Daddy, the guy had the nerve to ask me how I knew it was a dude.  Seriously?  Have you ever seen a WOMAN driving around town with this lovely badge of honor slapped onto the shell of their Dodge pickup?


And at the time I noticed the terrific parking job… I felt absolutely no remorse for loudly calling the dude a big giant TURKEY.   Cuz you walked right into that one dude.  Thank You Very Much.


Whew… thanks KMama.  I feel better already!  Come play along!

The Daily Dribbles

Monday, December 07, 2009

True Story Tuesday by Mr. Daddy

Good grief - is it already Tuesday?!?!  That can only mean one thing... it's time for True Story Tuesday!

A chance to share the amazing, hilarious, miraculous, outrageous and (mostly) true things that have happened to you!  Seriously, read the below story and tell me it doesn't remind you of a gut-busting moment in your own life? :)



I'm not sure what it is about bodily functions that people find so funny.

And yes I say people, even though I am swimming in an estrogen ocean here, there are some that will read this in total denial, I am sure... (I'm just saying)

But EVERY BODY!!!! Toots once in a while...

But this story is about a guy that reveled in his ability...

Now I have known women who were louder, and a few that were, shall we say more pungent...

But NO one was more talented than this guy...

I have known some that could play along with the Blue Danube, but I am here to tell you that is child's play compared with what this guy could pull off...

He had it down to a science - if the surface of a particular seat wasn't conducive to a predetermined tonal quality he would refuse to sit on it...

He could imitate a Hot Rod catching all four gears of rubber substituting farts for the burning of tires... (our eyes made up for the burning tires.) and fourth gear wasn't just a squeak...

I have heard him start out hitting the key of C modulating up and down the scale, to finish off with a high C...

I never witnessed him breaking any glass but he did rattle the windows in the lunch room on a regular basis...

He was so in love with the sounds of flatulence, that he came up with his own fart machine, he took an old church key, (bottle opener) bent it open, attached a couple of heavy duty rubber bands to a flat washer, when wound up real tight and sat on (on the right surface, cardboard worked best) you just had to lift your butt cheek just like doing the real thing and it produced a more than realistic farting sound, minus the smell....

Although he really didn't have much of a need for it, as I am sure that he could fart on command...

And it is with this talent that this story is about...

There was another fellow that used to hang around that was always trying to be buddy buddy with mister fart man...

Mister fart man was less than enamored of mister wannabe buddy buddy's attempts at being chummy...

Mister buddy buddy just couldn't or wouldn't take the hint...

Mister buddy buddy pestered mister fart man to go shopping with him one day. Now granted it was at a surplus store that was called Yard Birds, so you might expect a little less than elegant company. But they had just about anything that a good old redneck man or redneck woman could want. Sporting goods, work clothes, tools, hardware you name it they had it, even army surplus stuff. I guess you could call it a forerunner to Cabella's with a lot less class...

Mister buddy buddy went down one aisle and mister fart man went down the next, perusing the merchandise.

Mister buddy buddy wasn't paying attention and had his back to mister fart man, while the next aisle over a young lady worker had her back to them with the fart man between them.

Mister fart man being the attentive, take advantage of any situation kinda guy that he was, just couldn't resist the opportunity that had been so benevolently been placed in his path...

Yep you guessed it, with all the gusto that he could muster, which is quite a lot really, he let her rip.

Then immediately hit the floor and crawled away...

Mister buddy buddy exclaimed as he wheeled around, "I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT YOU JUST DID THAT"
to find himself starring eyeball to eyeball across an empty aisle with the young lady, that was looking back at him as if he had the black plague...

Mister fart man popped up several aisle away to saunter off slowly leaving mister buddy buddy trying to explain his way out of his awkward predicament...

I am here to ask you, what are friends for???? Really!!!!


(Rach in:  Peeeeeyouuu!)  You know the drill - just grab the TST code from the right sidebar, throw it in your old or new post, and add your link to the list below!  We'll be by to share some comment love :)


Sunday, December 06, 2009

Not Me Monday - O Christmas Tree version

Heyyyyy!  Hopping back on the Not Me Monday wagon in time for some Christmas cheer.  Join MckMama for more Not Me Mondays from all over the world!


Let me preface by saying that I loooove me a real Christmas tree.  Seriously… isn’t a little tradition worth the endless vacuuming?  And howsabout that benefit of supporting your local economy?  And that little part about your redneck husband threatening to forevermore answer the door in his tighty whiteys if you even whisper a thought of a fake tree?

Oh, that part is just me?


So it’s all worth it, right?


Ahh, it’s that time of year to go cavorting through the tree farm – on the hunt for the perfect spruce to bear our treasured ornaments.

Remember Itty Bit’s first year?  Wow… I hardly remember him being so small.  (Mr. Daddy, don’t you dare say you don’t remember me being that small either).IMG_0873


The second year I think he was barely awake too.



The third year, he woke up from his nap ready to go.



And this year, you can see how he’s grown.


(Mimi – I thought of you when I spotted this hat – I know how many fun ones you have!)


Notice Mr. Daddy retaining posession of the bow saw?  File that away for later, k?



The little guy got a little restless – two picky parents can cause tree selection to go into overtime…



Not my normally-logical husband who gave our three-year old a bow saw (AKA weapon of mass destruction)



After rescuing several nearly “trimmed” trees, my sweet and safe tyke did Not suddenly forget the dire warnings and take a swing at my head.  With.the.bow.saw.

My Prince Charming did Not instinctively (and unwisely bravely) try to grab it before it connected with the back of my head.

Guess what part Mr. Daddy did Not connect with?  :(


The blade did Not also catch my hair and jerk my head backwards – I did Not nearly drop Itty Bit in surprise.  I did Not nearly drop him again when I saw the blood coming from Mr. Daddy’s hand.

I was Not ready to go home at that point.

We had Not pretty much given up, when we spied this one in a nearby backyard… :)  Shhh!



Itty Bit did Not pitch an absolute fit to be able to “help” carry the tree back to the truck.

That is Not him holding onto four pine needles in his generous plan of assistance.



I am Not OCD about decorating a tree.

I do Not have to struggle to refrain from banning my child from the room or letting him use the tree skirt as a blanket…



But when that hard-earned tree is up… you realize that it wasn’t really about what’s ON the tree, but what’s AROUND it.


(aaaaand a BIG round of applause for my Man for the selfless sacrifice of a substantial chunk of his thumb and a couple of fingers – love you and couldn’t wish for a better best friend to spend this Christmas with).