Monday, August 31, 2009

True Story Tuesday: Tag team edition

**Update - republished to get MckLinky working - hope it's good to go now!**

It's True Story Tuesday! Time to link up all your new or old posts that have something amazing, outrageous, miraculous, or hilarious (and mostly true) that happened to you! Grab the button from the sidebar and link up!




Take Me Out to the Ball Game


Thanks to Rach's Dad being an excellent golfer, and his vacation coinciding with the tickets that he won in a tournament, I had a most excellent birthday present...

Two All-Star Suite tickets complete with parking pass for the Mariners ball game at Safeco field...


(Rach in: I still don't quite understand running around a manicured lawn whacking at a little white ball, but I'm sure glad you're good at it, Dad).

Wow were we treated in royal style - park, proceed up to the sky walk, quick camera bag check, and waltz right on into the suite…NO LINES!!!!!

As we walked in the Host and Hostess took one look at our trepidacious approach, sadly shook their heads and asked…First time here?????? We looked at each other and said…Yeah, up here.

(Rach in again: "trepidacious"?!?! Oh come on... I was totally embarrassing you dear... I was giggling and skipping and you only held my hand to keep me from introducing myself to everyone).

(Mr. Daddy in: You were worse than an excited teenybopper at a Hannah Montana concert, dear).

The nice gentleman took us firmly in hand, and began to explain the rules of the genteel class to a couple of backwoods three hundred level cheap seat rookies…

Over here we have the desert bar with seven different deserts with your choice of about twenty different toppings.

And here we have the bar, which you can start a tab or pay as you go, every thing else is compliments of the house.

Now down past the bar is the salad bar complete with crackers and cheese and just about any condiment that you could imagine for a salad.

Just on past that is the table with prime rib complete with the little guy in a big chef’s hat to serve you; steamed red potatoes and corn.

If the prime rib is not to your liking (but it is most excellent), we have a rosemary lemon chicken. These are all served though the seventh inning.

Along the wall was a complete bar with hotdogs and several assorted accoutrements to top off a Ballpark dog. Popcorn, both regular and carmel. And what ball game would be complete without fresh roasted hot peanuts???? With two big refrigerators (one at each end of the room) full of soft drinks and water. All of this available until the end of the game…

With that (and an order to pace ourselves because he expected us to eat all the way through the 9th inning) and a kindly smile, he sauntered away to greet other people.


After about a gazillion trips to the prime rib server and salad bar…(for me) Rach is too much a lady to make a pig or be gluttonous beyond reason.

(Rach in: I stockpiled my plate to the point where food was falling off it... and ate fast when Mr. Daddy made his multiple runs for more prime rib... he only thought I wasn't eating my way through it).

We were ready to go out on the balcony and enjoy the start of the game.

(Rach in again: I would have been hitting up more of the prime rib, if Mr. Daddy hadn't surreptitiously snuck a quart of horseradish under the bite he lovingly offered me, and sent me into a sneezing fit in our lovely setting. I love you too, honey).

I grab a bag of peanuts and a bucket of popcorn, (just to tide me over till later in the game when I could waddle my way back in and grab a Dog, with the works).

We make our way to our cushy seats and the place is immaculate. We look around, and Rach whispers to me go get us a container to put the peanut shells in… Now in my accustomed 300 level cheap seats we just shell them on the floor (right)???? What do you do in the posh section????? You listen to your smart wife and go get a container to up the shells in. RIGHT??????

(Rach back in: ladies, we all know that I "subtly" mentioned it to Mr. Daddy, he laughed at me, and I went and got it myself)

Every thing is going good until about the third inning when a guy and his mom show up and ask to be let in to the seats next to us. They sit down and he starts shelling his peanuts and just shucking them on the floor. This was way too much for my beautiful smart wife…

She leans over and in her best deaf whisper says: LOOK AT THAT SLOB, HE IS JUST THROWING THEM ON THE FLOOR….

(Rach in: OMLORD, I cannot believe he is sharing this. I am totally embarrassed)

Me: (quietly) yes dear I see that….

Thinking to myself: (self, I hope he didn’t hear that!!!!)

A couple of outs later, he leans over and says:::: First time here Eh???

Me: (rather dubiously) Yeah! Why???

Him: looking at our container of neatly stacked peanut shells…. Yeah I did the same thing the first time here, but one of the attendants came and chewed me out for cheating the help out of a job in these troubled times and dumped my whole bag of peanuts out and said…. The same rules here as out there for peanut shells.

Me: (snickering as Rach excused herself to the lady’s room…)

(Rach back in: ooooh! And that bathroom had lotions, mints, floss, hairspray and all the girly stuff!)

When she came back she ceremoniously picked up the container of shells and dumped them on the floor….

The guy started laughing.

I looked down and the woman in the seat in front of us had put her jacket on the back of her seat and it had slid off and was laying on the floor and Rach had dumped the whole batch right on her coat….LOL

We very quickly and quietly clean it off and slip back on the seat back, snickering and guffawing all the time…

(Rach in: Excuse me DEAR?!?! I was mort-i-fied... and you were laughing loud enough for a deaf chick to hear it in a stadium full of roaring major league fans. Yeah, I always know you got my back :P)

We settled into a comfortable routine and finished the rest of the game and had a wonderful time… (Rach still hasn't gotten her voice back).

Heavy sigh::::: I don’t think the I will enjoy the cheap seat as much ever again….



And the winners...

of the most belated giveaway drawing ever…

(how on earth am I supposed to work around an internet outage?!?!)

and the soon-to-be proud new owners of photogenic masterpieces by Dana at From Chaos to Grace

 

are…

Comment #7 by Brandi from My Three Bubs!

and

Comment #18 by Emily from Powell Power!

 

These chicks also left a couple knock knock jokes for little May-May:

winner

winner2

Silly ladies, yes?  That first one took me straight back to the Sound of Music!

~

Just a bit of crazy “coincidence”… every single time I’ve hosted a giveaway, I’ve won something at the same time.  I’m three-for-three right now.  I’m thinking I should find a giveaway for a portrait lens, stick my name in it, then hurry back here and post another giveaway?!? :)

Check it out…

My first giveaway, and I won a perfect care package from Matters of the Heart.

Then my second giveaway and I won a cool bag from Loving Mom Two Boys.

And I post this one and get a Target giftcard from sweet Following Him.

See?  God has a sense of humor!

 

Congrats to the winners!

 

Sunday, August 30, 2009

I Heart Faces Update!

Golly!

May-May and her curls placed in this week's Nostalgia

theme contest!

Thanks Sunshine... you are the sweetest little thing.

IMG_0933

10thplace wk 33

Saturday, August 29, 2009

SOOC = straight out of camera

You've seen me tease Mr. Daddy about Itty Bit beating him up...

here and here.


But the little guy took it to a new level with his beloved Aunt Ju this week.

Laughing and playing after a bath = a headbutt gone wrong.


Terribly wrong.


Here's our Straight Out Of the Camera evidence...




Go here for some less painful photos :)


Slurping Life

And for all those awesome photos - want to make them into some awe-inspiring artwork?

Check out our giveaway here for some beautiful work done to your own photos!

Giveaway ends tomorrow!

Friday, August 28, 2009

I know, I know

Y'all can see that I've pitifully abandoned the giveaway.

Well not really, but it's been sadly neglected.

I have a million excuses, and most of them would probably fly with y'all, but I'm still woefully ashamed (as I am typing 2.3 words per minute on the "old" computer because the "new" one decided that life wasn't worth living if it included me).

So I pathetically apologized to my dear friend Dana - and she offered a way to mix things up (and she forgave me, which is pretty cool... cuz I do NOT want to get on the bad side of a chick who knows how to Photoshop).

Here's what she has graciously offered:

Choose from her amazing art posted here, or let her mess with your own photo and turn it into a frameworthy conversation starter.

To show you what I mean... here's a shot I recently captured of my aunt and her son who was just about to move across the country.

He's her oldest... and was the sweetest little baby ever (he's still a major sweetheart).
It was heartwarming to watch this giant of a boy hugging his mother wordlessly as they looked out over the lake the eve before he left.

It was dusk and I knew the moment would disappear if I didn't act quick. I prayed for the right settings and zoomed in. What I got was not overly impressive. Here's the SOOC shot:




And here's the masterpiece Dana made of it
(Aunt A and Cousin It - look away! You'll get the originals soon, so act surprised):




See? Wouldn't you love something like this? Doesn't it make you think of a few more knock-knock jokes? Or at least take a couple seconds to let us know if you're already a follower.

Go here to enter... I CANNOT wait to see what two of you get to choose! These would make great gifts for a grandparent or spouse or friend. Personalized with something truly meaningful!

Howsabout Sunday afternoon for a deadline?

Monday, August 24, 2009

True Story Tuesday by Rachel

Hey y’all, ready for this week’s True Story Tuesday?

It’s a chance to give us the whole story of what exactly happened on that Not Me Monday. Or to share what seems too amazing/outrageous/miraculous to have happened in real life.

I know there are some great stories already waiting in your old posts… so it would be easy-peasy to just link up and share your stuff! So… please join along! Grab the button from the sidebar and share a link to your post about anything amazing, outrageous, hilarious, embarrassing, or miraculous, (and mostly-true) that has happened to you!

~

Jest Bein’ Neighborly and All

Every Thursday night was tv night. We had a routine… invite a buddy over, grab a couple pizzas, and the three of us veg out for a few hours in front of the tube.

First came Pretender (anyone else remember that show?)

Then Profiler (which I had to turn away at the morbid parts)

Next was ER (George Clooney and Noah Wyle anyone?)

And if we were all still somewhat awake after our gluttonous evening, we’d top it off with a recorded hour of Survivor.

Keep in mind, this was in a nice neighborhood – lots of nuclear families and manicured lawns.

So we stumble out the door after 11pm to see our buddy off … walking past our neat little lawn toward the cars.

Suddenly there’s a loud BANG.

Huh?

We halfway duck back into the shadows of the entryway and watch the scene unfold.

(By the way, Stever, do you remember this? :)

~

What is absolutely comical is that the  neighbor from across the street is busy doing his own thing, while his wife is trying desperately to call him off.

It was the perfect performance for a deaf audience… full of emotion, pantomime, suspense, and a terrific ending.

See… the couple from across the street had four children in quick succession.  Which meant a lotta diapers.

And seeing as we were the only two living in the big house across the street, the guy (let’s call him Joe) had waited until late that evening to ahem dispose of some diapers in a trashcan that surely couldn’t have been as full as his.

Except that he hadn’t counted on a recent surprise party that left our garbage can full of wrecked decorations, paper plates, and empty pop bottles.

~

And at the precise time that we had stepped out the front door, he had swung the lid to our garbage can open and slung his radioactive payload onto our container.

Notice I said ONTO?  Yeah, it was already full.

So Joe does what any self-respecting garbage-can space thief would do.  He climbs on top of it.

In full view of the three of us.

Oh wait… make that the four of us.

Cuz Joe’s wife is standing at their porch, directly across the street from us.

Staring in HORROR at us watching her husband grunting

as he jumps up and down on the uncooperative Hefty bag that is now spilling diapers onto the street.

Yeah, jumping.up.and.down.in.our.garbage.can.

Psst.

Joe

Joe

She is quickly walking toward him, flailing her arms as we giggle madly.

JOE!

JOE!

 

Joe is absolutely determined to get those diapers into our garbage can.  He begins picking them up with his bare hands and shoving them deep into the sides.

He finally picks up the last one, and triumphantly pulls the lid back over it… only it won’t close.

He thumps on it a couple of times for good measure, then decides it’s good enough.

 

JOE!

 

By now she has run across the street, pointing and yelling while neighbors’ porch lights turn on.

Joe looks at her first in triumph…

Hey babe, I got them all in the…

Uhh…

As he turns around and sees what she is wilding gesturing at.

Yep, three sets of eyes half squinted shut in silent laughter.

Hey, umm… You know… umm…  you know…

Would you believe he never spoke to us again?

overflowing-trash-can-by-lusi

~

Sooo… I know you can outdo this! Join along and share your outrageous/miraculous/amazing story!

I Heart Faces

What an amazing theme for iheartfaces this week!

Nostalgia

It is incredible to see the variety of responses this word elicits. Go see for yourself


This little miracle niece of mine was a delight to capture this afternoon as she gleefully spotted a dandelion and intently puckered up.

She didn’t care that it was a weed. Didn’t care that the adults groused that they were spreading.

She only cared to do exactly what one must do when presented with a perfect puff like this.

Take a little girl breath in, and watch your wishes float on the wind.

IMG_0933

She skips where she goes, and giggles for no seen reason… and her joy in the little things is the best lesson of all.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Not My Child Monday!

 
Howdy y’all – we’re playing along for the first time with Not My Child Monday!  Head over to My Charming Kids for more… please, just to confirm that my kiddo is entirely normal.
 
~
 
This week, it was not my kiddo who was thoroughly amused by a complete stranger in a restaurant.  You know, those kindly older men who look like Santa and are willing to make all kinds of silly faces?  Yeah… Itty Bit didn’t spend a good 20 minutes having a gigglefest from two tables away with this guy.
 
And when the guy stood up to leave and waved at Itty Bit… I did not prompt my little guy to wave back.
 
He did not wave slowly then look at me in total confusion and say, “Who’s that?”
 
~
 
Not my child who found his inner cowboy on his first trail ride… riding double with Mommy.
 
Not my buckaroo who kicked Moi out of the saddle and told her to skedaddle (hey, that rhymes!)
 
And it was not my ‘lil trickrider who scared the living snot out of me 11 seconds later when he did THIS:
 
IMG_0753

~

Not my child who triggered a massive fit of public laughter when he walked through a department store, spanking every mannequin.  I did not allow him to do so after receiving atrocious (actually NON-EXISTENT) assistance from the snobbish salespeople.

Hey, at least he’s not knocking their heads off, right?  (You’ve been warned… that is a terrible and traumatic story that may convince you to never shop with a toddler again).

~

And though my niece is not my child, she might as well be Itty Bit’s twin.  And her momma sure taught her well.

At a beautiful formal tea, our sweet May-May did not pull out a pirate hat and give us this:

IMG_0449

Classic, no?

~

And it is not my child who decided this week, that my teapot would be an ideal train transporter.

And being the logical and flexible mother that I am, I certainly would not let him take it to bed and (gasp) fall asleep next to it.

And then, it would most certainly not be the mother of this well-adjusted (and creative I might add) child who actually risked waking him up to snap a picture for the blog posterity…

IMG_0713

~

Hey y’all – join us for True Story Tuesday tomorrow, and don’t forget to head over for our giveaway!  Just a hint… she’s a well-known talent around IHeartFaces!

Thursday, August 20, 2009

As Promised... The Aftermath - Part Three

Knock Knock

Who’s there?

Orange

Orange who?

Orange you gonna enter the giveaway yet? :)

~

So… in an effort to drive you all madly insane and bored to tears with the zillion posts the accident has triggered, I am hoping this is the epilogue.  You know, where the fat lady signs?

(Oh come on… you didn’t get that?  It’s deaf humor… she SIGNS? ;)

Here are Parts One and Two.

~

So… Miss R. looks back at me and says

I’m sorry.

I’m left feeling a bit conflicted.

Is that the closure I was looking for?  Her tears and regret?

I feel strangely connected to her – that split second destruction could have been a “being in the RIGHT place at the RIGHT time” that puts her on the path to changing her life.

But I struggle with the same thing that I do in parenting:  I can talk and teach and show til I’m blue in the face… and yet everyone has free will.

We start to head out of the courtroom, passing by the row of her supporters gingerly… I am more afraid of them than I am of her.

~

We all breath a sigh of relief as we head to the elevators.  I think we are all a bit drained and happy to be leaving.

We board the elevator and my dad hits the floor button.

The doors begin to close, but just like in a bad movie… and arm suddenly thrusts between and pries them open.

I gasp quietly and my mind starts racing.  This very complex is where a correctional officer nearly lost her life fighting an inmate in an elevator.

The wrinkled hand belongs to the old man who had sat in the back of the courtroom.

He shuffles onto the elevator, looks at my dad, and says:

That the girl she hurt?

My dad replies in the affirmative and the old man begins to speak:

That’s my granddaughter.

I didn’t even know what this was about today.

She needs to straighten up her life.

You know kids… they never listen.

And he finally steals a glance at me and I can see the remorse and unspoken apology in his eyes.

I nod wordlessly and we continue down.

As he exits, I look at Mr. Daddy in disbelief and say, “that’s the old man who was taking pictures at the scene, isn’t it?!  He’s the one who was acting uncooperative, right?”

Sure ‘nuf.

We are headed out the building, almost through the metal detectors when I feel pounding footsteps behind me.  I turn and a woman grabs my arm.

I recognize her.  She is the one with the beautiful little boy from the front row.

I am suddenly even more grateful that my dad and Mr. Daddy are right there.

She says

Thank you

She needed to hear that

I hope this helps her change

I had a substance problem too

and I’ve been clean for nine years

I’m her best friend

I’m gonna help her

Thank you

~

What do you say?

I think the entire group expected something different that day.

But I didn’t have the energy to be angry.  I didn’t have the heart to be judgmental.

I simply saw such a broken person that looked like me.

And over and over again… the refrain in my mind.

That God was every bit as crazy about her as He is about me.

Talk about humbling.

Monday, August 17, 2009

True Story Tuesday by Mr. Daddy

It's True Story Tuesday again! And let me tell ya - we are more than ready for dose of humor this week. So join up! Grab the button in the sidebar and link up to your post about anything hilarious, outrageous, amazing, and true that happened to you!

And before you take off... remember to hit up our giveaway this week - it's something TRUE and AMAZING! :)





I Fought the Wasp, but the Wasp Won

I was doing my more than usual dumb stuff a couple of weeks ago. That being waiting too late in the year to cut next winters fire wood supply... I was cutting fire wood during that last heat wave that we had. Now that is REALLY dumb!!!

I was taking a break cause I felt as if someone had drenched me in water from all the sweating that I was doing, and I was huffing and puffing worse than a triathlete at the finish line, from the unusual activity.

While sitting there cooling down I looked just behind where I was cutting to the next tree that I had to limb up to cut - it was about 10 to 15 feet behind were I was working - and to my disbelieving eyes I saw a bald faced hornets nest that was just overhead high....



I could not believe that I had not spotted it sooner as I had been throwing limbs and stuff all over the place, and the chainsaw had been throwing sawdust that way. I just figured that it was a vacated nest. As I sat and watched it I saw a hornet fly in and crawl into the hole in the bottom...

Wow had I dodged a bullet on that one, I had all the cutting done so I just had to sneak in and retrieve the few pieces that I had already cut and load them up...

All was good and well... As I was saying I waited too long to cut green wood to season. There being a load or two of good seasoned wood just laying there begging to be cut, I figured that I would throw a can or two of Wasp and Hornet spray in my bag on the quad and the next time I went by on a ride I would just eliminate my little Hornet problem and all would be good... "Yeah Right"

Last Friday Itty Bit and I was up helping my brother (Brush Ape) get some wood When we got done I decided to take the long way back and take care of the nest of pests... I parked way back and told Itty Bit to stay on the quad and watch the fun, little knowing that I would be the entertainment of the hour and not the annhilation of the pests...

I grabbed two handfuls of the Mist of Death Wasp and Hornet Spray and started my stealthy approach. One must be very careful when stalking bald faced hornets, I cautiously approached from up wind, carefully calculated distance and wind speed and duly noted my route of escape lest things went awry...

Wwwweeeelllllll, it started out OK. I released the safety lock on the can in my right hand. Took careful aim, allowing for wind drift and gravity pull. Zeroed in on the target and gently squeezed off a stream of the Mist of Death, completely saturating the big nest... HHhhMMMMmmmm!! not much activity at all just a few came crawling out of the end of the nest..

I squeezed off another blast, and emptied the can in my right hand.... All is well. I look down to find the safety lock on the can in my left hand, and glance back up... "O" My Gee Wilikers they are boiling out of the end of the nest like an underaged kegger being busted by the local constable and his deputies...

There must be 30 or 40 of them crawling around and dropping off the nest. I look down again to locate the safety lock, pop it off and get ready to give them another shot of nastiness....

As I look up again I see one fall out of the nest catch itself in mid fall and start right at me.

Have you ever had one of those moments when time actually slowed down????

And your vision narrows down to a pinpoint of focus???

I think that Melody at Slurping Life made a comment about this kind of thing on her blog one time..
She called it and Epoch of Clarity... Yeah that's it!!!

I had me one of those....

Do you have any idea how big an enraged bald faced hornet bearing down on you looks????

I didn't think so...

Let me enlighten you. Do you know how big a B-52 bomber looks from about 6 feet away????

Thats not big enough....

It was Ginormous, Huge I'm telling you...

And you know that old adage that when you are threatened with certain and imminent harm that your fight or flight mechanism takes over????

That's a total load of crap.

There is one other thing that happens... You freeze!!!! I mean like your feet are anchored in concrete and the rest of your body is overdosed on novocaine...

As it attaches itself to my lower lip just a little left of center, I start huffing and puffing trying to dislogde the little bugger. For a brief moment I think about bashing my face with the empty can of spray, then the not so brilliant thought crosses my mind of giving it a healthy blast of the mist of death from my left hand can...

Nope not a good choice either, as I don't think that this particular cocktail is compatible with human life as well...

So I am ducking and wheeving and huffing and puffing trying to dislogde the little devil, and he is sticking tighter than baby crap to a blanket...

Now I am not sure that in my desperate ballet of despair I tripped and fell, or that little bundle of nastiness actually performed the perfect hip roll, or the sting itself put me down. But the next thing that I know I am flat on my back, thinking, "That is gonna leave a mark"

I hear Itty Bit saying DddaaaDDDDYyyyy??? You OK???

Yeah I'm fine Son, Lets get outa here, I sure showed them didn't I Son.....

I didn't even realize until I got back to my Mom's that the whole back of my shirt was ripped up, and I had a big gar on my side from the WWF smack down that I had just been in, with Harry the Horrible Hornet and myself being the main card event of the day.


That didn't really bother me all that much either, cause my lip was swelling up worse than Angelina Jolie or Pamela Anderson's after an overdose of botox...


Oh come on... you've had a tussle or two that's been blogworthy, right? Join in and share the pain :)




Everybody loves a giveaway!

Whoo-hoo! We rolled over 30,000 hits and we’re feeling the love

And what better way to share it than to have a GIVEAWAY?!?



Y’all already know the lovely and talented Ms. Dana at From Chaos to Grace – you know, the one that IHeartFaces had to make a contributor cuz she wouldn’t quit winning every week? Have you SEEN her pictures? Seriously - look at this and tell me she doesn't have mad skilz...


Soooo… leave a comment sharing your favorite knock-knock joke! Cuz sweet girl May-May has started telling them, and they (ahem) aren’t making complete sense just yet. I’d love to get her stocked up on some good ones! As many as you got!


And tell us if you’re a follower for another entry. You’ll want every entry you can get – cuz my sweet friend Dana has TWO of these up for grabs. She is rockin' in the talent department and I love how she incorporates God’s word with her beautiful photos. (She also edits pics as a missions fundraiser – and has managed to rescue a bunch of mine already).


Go check her out here – and take a look at what you can choose from if you win!


dsc_2156


guitarpsalm57



dsc_1429-copy


So head on over, tell her Rachel and Mr. Daddy sent ya, and don’t forget to leave us your knock-knock jokes! We’ll pick a random comment on Friday :)


Happy Giveaway day!

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Not Me Monday - and a GIVEAWAY heads-up!

*UPDATE*

Enter the giveaway here!

*~*

Howdy folks. We skipped a couple of Not Me Monday’s… but unfortunately the ammunition for the theme didn’t take a hiatus.

Join MckMama for more Not Me Mondays!

This past week did not include Mr. Daddy reporting what his son said in the bathtub:

“No wash my face Daddy. Just wash my butt when the poop comes out”

I have no idea where his son might have picked this up, but a recent conversation between Mr. Daddy and I may have possibly maybe included a dialogue somewhat similar to this:

Hon, did you wipe him?

Yeah

Seriously? Cuz I just undressed him for a bath and a little turd fell from between his cheeks into the bathwater.

Riotous laughter.

~

Not me who can’t believe I just started another post with poop. Does that just come with having a BOY?

~

IMG_5652

Considering that our BOY is surrounded by little girls, I have no idea why he would correct me every time I say undies. Not my kid who claims he wears panties.

(please feel free to tell me how stinkin’ cute May-May is when she giggles like that :)

~

Not me who has ONE MORE post about that accident. Cuz trust me, y’all are not gonna believe what happened after court!

~

Not Mr. Daddy’s birthday post that got completely out of hand in the comments section. It did not culminate in Lisa calling me a “fake boob slinging beauty queen”.

And it is NOT ME who is directing your attention (desperately) to this post to clarify that I DO NOT HAVE FAKE BOOBS. And I surely would never be mistaken for someone who might. I am not blown away that someone would remember that ancient story, but well… it was rather memorable, right? :)

~

Not me who had to bring Itty Bit shopping with me to pick up a Rock Band set for Mr. Daddy (think Guitar Hero with a drum set and mic).

Definitely not my kid who somehow recognized the wrapped box later and started screaming at the top of his lungs:

DRUMS!

DRUMS!

DRUMS!

SCISSORS PLEASE!!! SCISSORS PLEASE!

Mr. Daddy was not confused and amused at the same time.

And yes, my 3-year old is NOT better than I at the drums. Posh.

~

I did not allow my kiddo, niece and mother to hitch a ride on my car down the driveway.

IMG_0263

No way, not me. Those are not windshield wipers in the photo.

And where the heck does May-May get those curls?

~

I am not TOTALLY pumped watching the hit counter approach 30,000.

Seriously y’all??? :) Gee I feel so loved! Loved enough to share one my good friend’s talents with y’all. Cuz you made it all the way through this post and you deserve a shot at a giveaway! So come back tomorrow for True Story Tuesday by Mr. Daddy – then we’ll start the giveaway!

The Details - Part Two

Part One - details of the accident - is here.

Sixteen months after the collision, the Prosecuting Attorney emails me and says that the defendant has opted for a jury trial. This means that Mr. Daddy and I will have to testify. It also means that I'll be facing her for the first time.

I was thoroughly rattled by the thought.

Turns out the standard sentencing range is 22 - 29 months for a felony hit-and-run. Mind you, it's just for the act of running - not anything for a traffic citation or my injuries.

Still, I cannot imagine why she would want a jury trial when the victim and witness have both worked for law enforcement for 15 years, and the investigating officer is highly regarded. I am not prepared for the news a week before the trial, that she has chosen to plead guilty in a plea agreement to the judge of 24 months.

I post my feelings on the blog as I struggle for what to write in a Victim Impact Statement. Blog posts usually flow, even on difficult topics - why can't I write this thing and be done with it? And though I understand the heart behind every single comment, my own was pulled in a different way for no humanly logical reason.

I crash at 1:40 that morning, and awake at 4:40am - stomach in knots. It’s time to go and I muster the troops: Mr. Daddy, my dad, and my mom (who also interprets).

It reminds me bizarrely of a wedding. One side sits in benches on the left, the other side sits in benches on the right - with an aisle in between for the stars of the show.

I ask the Prosecuting Attorney if I am to speak only to the judge, or if I can speak to the defendant, Miss R. directly. His answer is the official rule of "speak to the judge", but adds that he will not stop me from speaking directly to Miss R. I get the sense that it is basically my choice to try, until the judge stops me.

The door near the jury box opens and two correctional officers escort an inmate to a seat. She is dressed in an orange jumper, handcuffed and shackled at the waist. I know immediately that it is her.

Friends - what absolutely blew me away, is that SHE LOOKED LIKE ME.

Seriously. She had straight hair, but otherwise looked like she could have been a younger version of me.

I wanted to stare. I wanted to be sick. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to run back to my car.

She turns and smiles at the people in the front row of the bench across from us. She waves at the little boy with them. And it tugged at my heart. He looks the same size as Itty Bit had been at the time of the accident.

Finally I approach the podium on shaky knees and try to keep my voice from trembling as I thank the judge for allowing me to speak.

I have never met Miss R. before today and I wanted her to know... I turn and looked directly at her, she sits four feet away, unflinchingly meeting my eyes ...that I did everything I could to avoid hitting you.

That's it for me. I'm a goner and the tears spring to the surface. I can tell she is defiant and defensive and her body language easily conveys that she is not intimidated.

I want you to know that I'm not a faceless, nameless person whose car got wrecked. I'm a mom - and my family's life has been turned upside down for the last 17 months.

I don't know if you remember what the accident looked like (as I pass the photos to the judge), but it was bad. I couldn't see you through the smoke, but I could see that the truck was smashed directly on the driver's side.

I don't know if you know this, but the man who tried to help you... was my husband. He followed me home that day and was the first to check on you.

She looks as if she's been slapped. Her eyes widen in shock and she imperceptibly shakes her head, then looks at her lap. Then my voice breaks and my emotions betray me. Tears are falling freely as she looks at me again.

I thought you were dead. I thought I had killed you.

And she cracks. Her eyes don't leave mine, but they brim with tears and she wipes them with her cuffed hands.

My mother is choking up, and the big correctional officer standing next to Miss R. looks as if he's fighting tears himself.

I want to tell you about myself. I struggled for seven years to have a baby. And after giving up, finally had a miracle baby. He was one-year old at the time of the accident. He is the same size as this beautiful boy - as I looked back to the toddler sitting in his mom's lap behind us.

He was sick that morning. And if he hadn't been, he would have been in the car with me to pick up my husband.

It was the worst feeling of my life to look in the backseat and see his carseat tipped up against a smashed in door.

It could have killed him.

She looks briefly at the little boy and I pressed on.

I hope you have someone in your life that you would be heartbroken to lose. I would be heartbroken to lose my son. I cannot imagine the feeling of losing this beautiful little boy behind me. I am more sad than angry, but I am human. If my son had been in the car with me, you would be seeing a very different person today.

The courtroom is absolutely silent. The judge listens intently, but does not stop me from speaking to Miss R. Her tears continue and I am silently pleading for the right words. I don't care about convincing the judge... I only care about reaching her.

Because it is what the judge wants to hear, I list my injuries. And I end by saying that those are "things". I ask Miss R. to look at the pictures of the accident, and to look at the picture of Itty Bit.

We've been given a second chance.

As she looks at the accident photos in disbelief, I tell her what bothered me the most.

I didn't know what happened to you. I didn't know if you were hurt, if you died. And now? I'm just so GRATEFUL that you can even walk.

All through the neverending onslaught of tears... the ugly kind of cry.

I don't think you did this on purpose - as she shakes her head emphatically - and I don't know much about you.

I say to the judge, I know she's been through a couple of treatment programs, and I don't know what will work. But I ask that you give her the best chance to dry out, which may not be a treatment program. What scares me is that this was not her first hit-and-run, but my bigger fear is that it will not be her last.

This means that I am asking that she doesn't get her sentence deferred into another treatment program. He nods in understanding.

All treatment programs are trying to do, is to convince you to make that decision for yourself. Nothing will work until you decide that for yourself. You don't need a program to make this choice.

I think you're worth it.

The court is hushed as I return to my seat.

Miss R. silently walks to the podium and faces the judge. He asks if she has anything to say, and her attorney says that she has prepared a statement.

She looks at the judge and continues to wipe tears from her eyes.

I had a statement prepared, but after hearing what she said, I don't want to read it - as she crumples up a few pages of handwritten notes. I deserve any sentence you give me.

The judge begins to speak. He is compassionate and tells her that no one has said that she is a bad person, but that she has made some poor choices. He says that he hoped she heard what I was speaking from my heart.

He says that the court does not deal in "what-ifs". She was not being tried or charged with a "what if". But that he hoped she understood that someone could have been killed. He recalled that I had said I was grateful she could walk - and how fortunate she was not to have been killed.

The judge said he could not look into the circumstances of the crime because she had plead guilty. But he said that looking at her criminal record, he could read between the lines. Since the charge was simply for hit-and-run, he could not order drug treatment for her. He hoped that if she had a problem, she would seek help.

He then ordered her to 24 months in prison. As the correctional officer began to escort her around the defense table, she turned to look at me.

I'm sorry.

The Details - Part One

These thoughts have been rattling around since Thursday... after two solid weeks of being unable to sleep while my OCD mind went over every possible scenario for court.

Here's Part One - the details of the accident that I haven't shared before. (Part Two is here).

Remember that tiny detail that Itty Bit had woken up with a cough? And my sister (for the first time ever) stayed with our little 22-month old miracle baby so I could work a half day? Otherwise that kiddo would have been in his carseat with me to get Mr. Daddy from work.

Instead, I was driving home that evening on a 50mph road alone with Mr. Daddy following behind me in his truck. He watched as a truck pulled out from a driveway to my right - directly into my path. I slammed on my brakes and began to swerve. For a split second, it appeared the truck was slowing and could possibly stop. Then suddenly, the truck gunned it and went directly into my path all the way into the left lane.

Thank God there was no oncoming traffic. We ended up off the road to the left - barely missing a power pole and an electrical box. Our vehicles were both totaled, and you know the rest of the story about injuries.

Here are the details: The crash was LOUD. The house that the driver had been leaving suddenly began to empty of occupants. Literally, cars were filling up and taking off. I'm guessing they knew police would be there soon.

My husband went to check on the other driver... a young woman who was kicking from the inside of the driver's door. She actually pried the door away from the frame and crawled out in the gap.

IMG_7148

She then ran around to the passenger side and opened it (anyone else wondering why she didn't just crawl across and open the door?) She rummaged around quickly and placed something small in her pocket.

Mr. Daddy was the only witness who saw her. He asked if she was okay, she asked if the other driver was okay. He said he didn't know. He saw two guys coming across the road and assumed they would assist her. He left to check on me. The next time he looked up, she was gone.

Almost immediately, a correctional officer showed up and began directing traffic. Firefighters showed up next and started extricating me from my rig and transferred me to an ambulance.

Then a law enforcement officer from our own agency arrived to investigate. He stopped another vehicle leaving the house, and spoke to an elderly man who had come out and began taking photos of the accident.

Before the ambulance ever left the scene, we found out that the other driver had a bench warrant. How was she identified so quickly?

The truck was not registered to her. In fact, it was not even registered to the guy who "owned" it. The poor registered owner was a young kid who had sold it to a coworker a couple years before. The buyer hadn't paid up, so the kid didn't change the registration over. OUCH (yeah, my insurance company had to wade through that mess).

Still, how did they know who the driver was?

The tiny details of this accident continue to amaze me.

The investigating officer located a receipt in the vehicle that was timestamped to just before the collision. It was from a local pawnshop, and listed a mattress. Unbelievably, the pawn shop had taken a copy of her LICENSE - picture and all - for the pawn. Seriously, does that not amaze you?

The next several months brought more information - most of it simply Googled.

This girl had made some poor decisions. Her rapsheet had 24 listings - and she wasn't even 24 yet. She'd failed court-ordered drug treatment programs twice and did not have a valid license to drive. But the thing that upset me the most, is that this was not her first hit-and-run.

And with how slowly the wheels of justice turn, she had been in and out of jail even SINCE the collision with me, and no one had kept her there or charged her. In fact, she wasn't charged until nearly a year after the accident.

It was her first felony. The fact that I was injured and she ran, made the distinction.

I'm still muddling through a post about the actual court date. There were so many emotions that came to the surface and I'm not sure I can adequately describe what happened. Bear with me for Part Two.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

SOOC = Straight Out Of the Camera

Melody from Slurping Life hosts an SOOC link. Please visit and be blessed by all the great shots this week.

Photobucket



You know May-May.

These are my cousins entertaining her. I love this picture because it shows just how tender these boys are with the little ones.

And reminds me of the many hours my sister and I spent entertaining them when they were toddlers.


Seems like yesterday.


Slurping Life

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Happy Birthday Mr. Daddy

Poor guy.


He's had a rough day.


I mean, first the whole aging thing.

And then spending half a day doing the court stuff with me.

Then forced to eat his way through a giant chinese buffet.

And spend the rest of the afternoon playing his brand new Guitar Hero.

(Yeah, he ROCKS in case any of y'all wondered).

And the coup de gras was our ever witty Pam D's (retaliatory) birthday tribute.

So if you're wondering what this is about... head on over :)


Wednesday, August 12, 2009

What do you say?

I meet her for the first time tomorrow.


Most likely across the room while both of us face a judge.

She with her public defender, I with the prosecuting attorney.


I know it will be strange.


Seventeen months ago, she changed my life in a few short seconds.
How many strangers can you say that about?

In the smoky aftermath of a terrible high-speed collision, she ran.

And left me injured, struggling with a haunting guilt of "what if".



What if I'd seen her sooner?

What if I hadn't tried to swerve?

What if she's hurt badly?

What if she dies?


Robbing me of sleep, repeating like an endless record in the wee hours.

Until I remembered.


What if I hadn't seen her at all?

What if I hadn't braked?

What if swerving saved our lives?

and

What if Itty Bit hadn't woken up with a cough?


Mr. Prosecuting Attorney says it's a victim's chance to speak.

But what do you say?


I have very little anger. And it's somehow only intertwined with what I'm most grateful about.

Itty Bit barely wasn't with me. And I am thankful beyond belief.

The image of the carseat tipped against the smashed-in door is seared hotly into my memory. I struggle with surges of relief mixed with unbelief. How could someone care so little about taking away something so precious?


What do you say?


I'm left with more sadness than anything.

Two rounds of court-managed drug treatment have failed. Or rather she has failed them.


It seems like a slam dunk case.
Go in and play the victim card. Tell the judge how my daily life has changed. Show my scars, tell them what I can no longer do.
Walk in with my sign language interpreter, my 15 years in law enforcement, my witness husband, my totaled car, and a picture of my miracle boy who escaped the wreck.
Play it and ask for an exceptional sentence.

And in 29 months an addict will drive the same roads again.


What do you say?


Somehow I doubt my victim card will convince her to change.

Do I care about the punishment aspect? Or would I rather see her pass me on the road again in 10 months, happily clean and sober?


How do I reach her? This second chance for both of us is something I don't want to waste.

What do you say?

Monday, August 10, 2009

True Story Tuesday by Rachel

Hey y’all, ready for this week’s True Story Tuesday?


It’s a chance to give us the whole story of what exactly happened on that Not Me Monday. Or to share what seems too amazing/outrageous/miraculous to have happened in real life.

I know there are some great stories already waiting in your old posts… so it would be easy-peasy to just link up and share your stuff! So… please join along! Grab the button and share a link to your post about anything amazing, outrageous, hilarious, embarrassing, or miraculous, (and mostly-true) that has happened to you!

~

Spa Spaz

Let’s just get it out of the way from the start.

We aren’t spa people.

Nothing against those who are, but it’s a bit tough rationalizing $250 to have a stranger scrub coffee grounds on your body, rub in essential citrus oils, wrap you in banana leaves, and sit you in a dry sauna to “detox and relax”.

Are you kidding me? I’d be giggling while getting scrubbed, sweating while sitting there trying to make sure I don’t fall out of my banana leaves, and all for the sake of soft skin that smells like a grapefruit orchard.

Nah, not me.

And certainly not Mr. Daddy (I luck out that the guy uses Old Spice shaving cream).

So after reading about the different spa treatments included in our getaway package, he was all over the NO WAY part. (An unwise move was trying to explain what a d├ęcolletage massage was… seriously?!?)

So the only thing I could drag talk him into (kicking and screaming) was the Duet Massage.


Duet Massage: Celebrate health and harmony. Share the gift of massage with a loved one or special friend in our unique doubles treatment room. Enjoy your own personal Tranquility Massage, while experiencing a sense of togetherness.

Yeah, the sense of togetherness as you realize that your husband will be lying there for 50 minutes plotting his I AM NOT A METROS#XUAL revenge.

~

It didn’t help matters any when the concierge instructed us to arrive 30 minutes early in our robes. Yep. Walking through that lodge in those robes was enough to convince me that Mr. Daddy was being pushed far past his comfort level.

We gamely throw our bathing suits on, cover up with the cushy robes and slip on our flip-flops.

(Yes, there are pictures of us in the robes, and no, I am not allowed to post them for threat of Mr. Daddy retaliating with some very unkind photographs of yours truly sleeping with her mouth open. I’ll give you credit for thinking ahead dear, but that was hitting below the belt).

~

Shuffling off to the top floor where the spa is. Encountering signs all over the place…

“For your spa experience, please speak no louder than an intimate whisper”

Okaaaaay. This is gonna be easy… we can just sign.

We walk up to the counter and whisper our names. The lady quietly replies. Mr. Daddy explains that I did not hear her and that I am deaf.

To which she forces a big smile and LOUDLY says,

“OH, OKAY! HI THERE, GOOD TO HAVE YOU HERE!”

Embarrassing the snot out of me and startling the entire spa population.

~

She directs us back to the mineral soaking tubs. And thankfully there is no one else there.

Good Lord… there’s a waterfall INSIDE the spa!



Totally quiet and there are signs everywhere reminding us:

“Silent Pools, please no speaking”

So far so good. We pick the soaking pool with the view and settle in.

The surroundings are beautiful, but I can tell Mr. Daddy is still nervous about the massage.

“You’d better get Helga. If you get Raul, we’re leaving”

“Yes dear”

And back and forth until we lapse into comfortable sign language silence.

~

Until I feel something on my side.

“What was that?”

Funny grin

“OH MY LORD…

You did NOT just fart in the mineral pool”

Total hysterics as he tries to keep from laughing out loud.
He has broken the “Silent Pool” rule, and I’m sure there’s an unwritten one about passing gas in their special water, too.

~

And while we are choking on our laughter, two women come to get us.

Whew… perfect. No Helga or Raul, and no Bambi or Brigette (you know, whose figures are as perky as their names?)

We silently follow them to our doom.

My first thought on entering the room is… why the heck is there a GONG in here? Are they gonna bong it if you fall asleep? In the silent spa?



But next come the dreaded words:

“Go ahead and undress and get under the sheets – we’ll be right back.”

~

Mr. Daddy looks thoroughly terrified. I can’t blame him.

And shockingly he shimmies out of his swim shorts and dives under the sheets.

Whaaa?

I’m standing there in my bathing suit wondering what the heck this imposter has done with my redneck husband (who is pale faced and slightly hyperventilating).

So I follow suit and pray for no wardrobe sheet malfunctions.

It starts out well enough – after the strictest warning that I am the ticklest person a masseuse will meet. She manages to locate every single sore spot on my back in the first 4 minutes.

Then she does this Vulcan hold at the top of my neck and I’m wondering what the heck that is supposed to do… when suddenly my shoulders drop and my arms start feeling a little rubbery.

~

Halfway through, I sneak a peek at Mr. Daddy a few feet away. He’s on his back, eyes closed, sheets up to his neck. With his right leg exposed all the way up to his buttcheek.

His masseuse is working just above his knee and I was just totally shocked that Mr. Daddy was laying there taking that kind of abuse.

My first thought was wondering if I should get up and slap the nice lady. Then I had to choke back a laugh at the thought of how traumatized he must be – and how he was going to make me pay for this.

But my thoughts are interrupted by the mental alarm of a danger zone.

Yes, she dared to massage my foot and sure enough – this classy chick managed to snort and giggle and repeatedly say “I’m so sorry” for disturbing the peace.

~

It’s over and as Mr. Daddy ties the belt on his robe, he looks at me and says,

“I could do that again”

~

Sooo… I know you can outdo this! What lengths has your spouse gone to impress you? Join along and share your outrageous/miraculous/amazing story!



Sunday, August 09, 2009

The one in which we ran away

Yep.

Finally did it.

We squeezed in a quick getaway courtesy of a gift certificate that was given to us a shamefully long time ago (thank you very much by the way, cousins!)

It was the first night we had ever spent away from Itty Bit. (Aww, don't be judging... he does have kidney problems). He was ecstatic about staying with Ah-ma & Papa. Mr. Daddy was right when he said, "how much do you bet he's not gonna want to come home?"

I'd made the reservations as a surprise to Mr. Daddy. He's got a birthday coming up next week (hint hint), and unfortunately his actual birthday is booked up (yeah, the girl plead guilty to the hit-and-run and we'll be at her sentencing... good timing, eh?)

~

Anyhoo, we drop Itty Bit off, hit the road to this gorgeous lodge, and walk in feeling like fish out of water after handing our keys off to a valet.

When we check in, the concierge (gesundheit) says that we have a "duet massage" scheduled for 8:30pm and we are to arrive in our robes.

Uhh, what? We are to walk through this lodge wearing robes and flipflops?

We check out the room and the fantastic view... one of the multiple waterfalls is roaring outside our balcony. The kingsize bed has a feather mattress and 17 pillows. Then there's a real fireplace and a big jacuzzi tub with a window that opens to enjoy the waterfalls.


Uhh, yeah. Still like a fish out of water.

(And why yes! I am one of those dorks who takes pictures of hotel rooms because I travel so rarely!)

We beat feet down to get close-ups of the waterfalls and explore the grounds.


(Yes, our room was in that beautiful lodge on the top left!)

Dinner was a local Italian joint to escape the heart attack of a dinner bill at the lodge.

So far so good. But I am still thoroughly dreading the "walk around in your robes and try to cajole your redneck husband into not wasting the spa treatment part of the package".

And let me tell ya - it's a whole 'nother post... and I'm sure Mr. Daddy will have plenty to share from his perspective.

Let's just say that there's some True Story Tuesday material in there!

The next morning, we were tempted to bail on the breakfast. I figured "Country Breakfast" meant "Continental Breakfast" and Mr. Daddy had a hankering for bacon and eggs.

Plus I was feeling less than presentable considering that the blow dryer was the size of a matchbox car and had two settings:

dandelion puff
or
afro

Considering my curly hair, you take a wild guess.

We head downstairs for our reservations (seriously, that word alone makes me feel like a total poser), and are seated with a gorgeous view overlooking the canyon that the water spills into.

The waiter takes our order, notes that the Country Breakfast is included in our package, and asks if we've ever ordered it before.

Choke, choke. Yeah, like we could ever afford a $75 Continental Breakfast?

Oh no, my friends... see a Country Breakfast means that they serve it in four courses. Yup... a BREAKFAST with COURSES.

My mind flashes back to the day I hotly told my mother that when I was old enough to live on my own, I was going to gleefully stock my pantry with Cap'n Crunch. Yeah, a four course breakfast is gonna confuse the snot outta this chick.

The waiter explains that it's 10-15 minutes between each course, so we should expect it to be an hour-and-a-half to two hours long.

Huh?

So we rolled with it.

Drinks? Try freshly-squeezed orange juice and the most unbelievable hot chocolate ever (seriously, HUNKS of chocolate on top of the rich foam).

First up, some fancy breads. Butter and jam on fancy plates. I nearly got kicked out for attempting to use my cupless saucer as a bread plate. Good times.

Then we waited. And waited.

(and talked about the long white hair I found in my pecan roll and how they'd comp us if it wasn't already free)

And waited.

For two pancakes.

Froo-Froo cut butter, more fresh jam, and syrup. Mr. Daddy quietly whined that they hadn't brought peanutbutter. I replied that I was certain they had some special Sumatran Organic Fair-Trade Hand Ground Almond and Hazelnut Rosemary peanutbutter available for $17 if he'd like some.

And I realized that I was starting to feel alarmingly full and I was only halfway through the second course. So I quit... pushed it aside like the I actually had any self-control.

Then waited some more.

And the next course finally arrived!

Mr. Daddy and I stared blankly at eachother over bowls of...


oatmeal ???


Seriously? This four-star hotel was serving oatmeal for the third course? I could totally see my mom cracking up at me for my ancient Cap'n Crunch comment. God'll get ya.

While all the lovely accoutrements were enticing... the currant jelly, slivered almonds, brown sugar, blueberries, and fresh cream were just not enough to convince us to waste our appetite on that gummy goodness.

So we politely took a couple bites. (Notably, I did so with the wrong spoon, licked it off, dried it with my napkin and snuck it back). Classy, no?

The waiter comes to clear our table. You know, between each course, cuz a million dishes won't fit on there after each section comes with a different version of butter and jam in another fancy plate.

Mr. Daddy mumbles something about "saving our appetites" to the waiter and we settle in for another wait.

By which time we both are realizing that we are F-U-L-L.

And then the glorious final course arrives... a plate steaming with fresh potatoes, ham, apple pork sausage, biscuits, and yep... Mr. Daddy's good ol' bacon and eggs.

Mr. Daddy agrees to the waiter's offer of fresh local honey, and the waiter proceeds to drizzle it from literally 3' in the air... commenting on how it resembles the waterfalls. (Am I the only country girl that totally snorted at that?)

By this point I may or may not have used the word bulemic in a sentence as I was trying to convince myself that I was not a sickly kind of full. (NO MOM, just a joke... a really terrible one, I know).

Sadly, it is then time to say goodbye. At check out we are surprised by a local celeb walking through the lobby (Ken Schram for you NW folks).

It was a really beautiful and romantic place and a relaxing treat after some craziness lately.

But again... wait til True Story Tuesday to hear the rest of it ;)

Is anyone else surprised that I was ready for some Taco Bell 15 minutes into the drive home???

Saturday, August 08, 2009

SOOC = Straight Out Of the Camera

Howdy... just squeaking in on SOOC Saturday.

We had a overnight getaway with this view:


The surroundings were spectacular... with the roar of a huge waterfall from our balcony.

Maybe a little more sophisticated than we are accustomed to - but it was nice to be pampered.

(and don't worry... there is plenty of Not Me Monday and True Story Tuesday fodder coming up!)

Join Melody at Slurping Life for more SOOC shots.


Slurping Life

Friday, August 07, 2009

Call Me

Yeesh...

Last week we lost a follower. I was sad :(

Then overnight we gained two! (happy dance)

See, I did the "follow me for an entry into a giveaway" thing once - and it really didn't work. I realized quickly that it meant more to me to have a few people who actually read and took the time to share their thoughts about my random blurbs, than a zillion followers who hung around for giveaways.

(But stick around - we have a fun giveaway coming up. Just waiting to see that counter roll around to 30,000, then we can par-tay!)

So - one of those new followers, on her very first comment... decided to out me to y'all. And I laughed when I saw her comment, then laughed some more.

Remember the last silly post? Where May-May was all about the french fries and made it pretty darn obvious what she thought of having to endure her Auntie She-She kissing on those rosy cheeks?

Well, this is what Christina had to say:
This chick knocked it out of the park her first time up to bat!

I was kinda-sorta keeping quiet about the nickname that was given to me almost 8 years ago by this cutie, Little Jo.

She was an early talker, and we finally figured out that every time she said that random "She-She", she actually meant Aunt Rachel.

I just realized, I typed "she" five times in that sentence. Sorry to annoy those of you who are real writers :)

So "She-She" stuck. Wouldn't be much of an issue if it'd been outgrown, but noooo... May-May was born and the nickname stuck.

I've managed to keep it relatively under wraps, despite the many times we've been out in public and Little Jo or May-May has hollered, "SHE-SHE!!!!!" and anyone who knew Japanese or Hawaiian would turn and giggle.

Come on - I know I'm not the only one with an embarrassing nickname, right? (In the spirit of damage control, no comments about my other nickname being Miss Mini Bladder, okay Dear?)

Y'all know that Itty Bit has a few nicknames. He usually goes by Boogie around here. Only cuz Mr. Daddy wasn't overly fond of me calling him Bugsy all the time.

And the rest of these folks you may have already met if you've been with us for awhile. Yes, we are definitely a nickname family:

May-May

(geez girls, what's with the attitude?)

Walla-Walla Bip Boo - aka Grandma

(oh wait, those girls come by it naturally)

Brush Ape and Tiny Thing

Half Pint and Bubba

As always, Ju

(it pays to be the keeper of the photo memory cards)


Any funny nicknames in your family???

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

the truth hurts

I thought she loved me.

I thought we had something special.

She was Itty Bit's cousin/twin... my sister and I shared our pregnancies due 4 days apart.

So I got a boy and a girl to dote on all at the same time.

See... special...



She smiled and it made me smile.

She called me her She-She.

I called her my sweet May-May.



Then I couldn't resist those adorable cheeks.

And she realized it wasn't worth sitting one lap closer to the french fries...