Friday, May 27, 2011
Grilled Mahi-Mahi Tacos with Strawberry Sauce & Strawberry Recipes for Everyday by The California Strawberry Commision
This is my Haan. I call it Hun for short. As in Honey, I love you.
It's a steam cleaner. I use it to clean my floors.
Or I should say. I USED it to clean my floors.
I can't find the little knobby thing that goes on top. The thing that keeps the steam in.
So now when I turn it on, all the water just bubbles out like a volcano of hot, hot, water.
I put the knobby thing somewhere safe.
Behind the fruit bowl.
That currently has no fruit.
And coincentally, no knobby thing.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
She is a nut and a half and I only know how to deal with seeds.
She is trying out for next years drama club production of Beauty and the Beast.
And I wanted her to practice for me.
And she wanted me to shrivel up and stop bothering her.
Monday, May 23, 2011
On Children, Human Sexuality, Transvestites, Transsexuals, and Lady Gaga
Sometimes we drive to a certain pizza place in a nearby town, because they run a special for $3.99 large pizzas.
Often on those visits, we encounter a man.
Who is dressed like a woman.
Complete with wig, daisy dukes, and make-up.
Usually high heels too.
Friday, May 20, 2011
I have a flower from my basil plant stuck somewhere between that dangly thing at the back of my throat and the far left recesses of my tongue.
Because. . . . . .
I had to go to the doctor today. For a physical. Bluk.
My stomach was in knots. My vision going blurry.
They made me get on the scale and I almost threw up. Which would have been good, because then I would have weighed less. But since that didn't pan out, instead I removed every ounce of clothing within the legal limit so maybe I could shave 1/4 ounce off my thighs.
The nurse took my blood pressure. And I started hyperventilating. Not good when your supposed to be in a relaxed state.
The doctor came in looking SUPER hoity toity, said a bunch of crap, and told me. . . .
I'm not even sure I can type it.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
I feel like I should be such an adult.
But, I feel like such a kid.
A kid who has kids. Like I'm their really, really, really older big sister.
I'm not sure if that's normal. It's probably not. But in anycase, I think I've been making some huge strides lately. You know, on becoming an adult.
Since the 2 days that I've been 36, I've decided that I can't make people (who aren't my children) do things that they don't want to. So I've stopped trying.
I've realized that I may want a clean house, but a clean state of mind is even more important. So I've been reading 'fun stuff' in lieu of domestic responsibilities. Not so great for my floors. But it's a pretty sweet deal for my husband, if you know what I mean.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
I wonder if it's a sin to revel in the fact that you're selfish.
Which makes what I'm going to have to say, worse. If that's possible.
My birthday is May 16th, and I don't want to spend it at my kids Softball Party, eating pizza.
I don't want to spend it at my other kids Field Day, watching her run around in the hot, hot, sun.
I don't want to go to any sport practice.
I don't want to cook anybody ANYTHING to eat.
And I don't want to pretend like there's nothing I'd rather do than sniff my kids
I know I'm not supposed to say that.
My mother will be ticked. She taught me better than that.
But I said it anyway.
Now. . .you can hate me.
Monday, May 9, 2011
I was frantic.
8:30 pm. Grocery cart in hand. Standing in the middle of the Target grocery isle.
I speedily flew up and down the isles searching for semi-sweet chocolate, heavy cream, chips, snacks, breads, meats. Tomorrow is Bella's birthday. My sweet baby Bella. Who loves me so. Who has to play in a Softball tournament on her birthday. I'm determined to fix an array of all her perfect treats of fresh fruit, sub sandwiches, and chocolate cake. I have to make this day perfect. I want her to know how much she means to me. How my world is all shiny and glittery because she's in it. I want her to know I love her.
I fly to the other end of the store. Looking for more presents. Then she'll know.
I throw cut off jeans in the basket.
A cute glittery giraffe shirt.
Pens. Pencils. Markers.
I'm tired. But I press on. She's only 6 now. But I want her to know. Know that she's important. Know what lies in my heart. Then maybe when she's older. She'll remember her momma always loved her.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Guess what arrived at my door yesterday.
|It was actually inside the Styrofoam cooler. But. . .. .you get what I am doing.|
Well, come a little closer.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Today is Cinco De Mayo. Which is the celebration of the victory of The Mexican Army over the French in the Battle of Puebla. Around these parts though, we mostly use it as a day to celebrate Mexican heritage, culture and pride, as well as drink margaritas.
Today is also, Mother's Day Tea at my 4 year old's pre-school.
Which leads me to another point, I could really use a margarita right. about. now.
This 4 year old kid is a spitfire.
God love her.
Every minute I spend with her is heavenly, but geez Louise, its non stop talking, dancing, singing, yelling, whining, giggling, and bossing.
You know the type.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
I. AM. GOING. TO. KILL. THAT. CAT!
And by 'kill' I mean really, really, make it sneeze.
It's not as if I'm the best gardener in the world. Let's face I'm not even the most mediocre gardener in the world. I fall somewhere between standard and extraordinarily second-rate. Though usually, this does not a problem make. We get enough rain (though we're in a drought now), we get plenty of sunshine (though with the lack of rain its wilting the plants), and the weather is just temperate enough in the Spring to make a garden run amuck.