I fought the ivy...and I won.

Getting settled into this house is a chore. I am not complaining, though. Just sayin'. And I swear I have organizing ADD. I will go into a room, look at the boxes and think, "ok, I will unpack one, and then take this downstairs, and look at how this would look on that wall, and oh, I want to paint (whatever) color on the wall, and I wonder if I can find a picture to match this or bring out the color in that..." And I get nothing done. I cannot, cannot, cannot focus with so much going on around me.

Despite it all, I am getting 'er done.

It has rained for the last couple of days, and Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun came out today, so I figured I would get some crap done in the yard. The previous owner let things go out there, so there is loads of work to be done. One of which is a mound of ivy growing up and around the outside light in the yard. I figure that tamed, it will look great, but right now, it is jungle-ish looking. I went to tackle the ivy, trusty shears in hand, and got to work. I was sweating my bawlz off, and yanking on a particularly stubborn vine and very into my task at hand. I yanked and yanked...pulled and grunted, shouted "Come on, you bitch!" at which point, the vine gave, I fell on my butt, and looked up to see a neighbor couple walking their dog, right in front of my house.

Yep. This crap only happens to me.

Welcome to the neighborhood to me. They just kind of smiled and beat feet out of there. Not sure if it was to laugh at me falling on my arse, or to get away from the potty-mouthed nutbag yelling at the vines of ivy.

So I come in the house, figuring I need a break and proceed to take the little cup of water that I had the fish in (I was going to clean his bowl this morning, but again, organizing ADD...) dumped him into the sink, and refilled the glass, intending to drink out of it. Distracted again, did not drink, but came back to it in a few minutes and thought,"Uh, where is Gilbert?"

Panic, panic, panic. Bear in mind, this is a Betta we are talking about, but still...

I look in the sink, and there he is, and he is pretty dang still. Great. (And I am gagging in the back of my mind, thinking how close I came to drinking from his cup. Barf.)

I scooped him up and he started flopping around, so I dumped him into his glass (refilled with distilled water, not my cold H2O). He seems to be none the worse for the wear, after a few seconds of floating on his side at the bottom of the glass.

What a day. I think I need to shower up and relax. I have done my allotted damage for the day.

Tick, tock, goes the clock...

The middle kid has a new obsession. For some reason, at any given time, day or night, he wants to know what time it is.

And it can make a body crazy.

I wonder if he wants to be sure to see Wapner. You know, Wapner is on at four. Defintely four.

And Kmart sucks. But I digress.

So I finally broke down and just bought him a watch. I was going to get him a regular watch, you know, for the learning opportunity of being able to tell time. Then I thought, hell no. He does not count by 5's yet, and all a regular watch would do is become another opportunity for him to ask, ad nauseum, "Mom, Mooooooom! What time is it on my watch?"

(PS, he just told me it is currently 10:59. In case you were wondering.)

So we went with the digital. Super-cool Spiderman watch, with nice big numbers, easy to read. HALLELUJAH!

And we had to get the littlest kid a watch, too. His is a very dapper Lightning McQueen model. Ka-chow!

Hunter was all excited, had me put the watch on his wrist, told me what time it was (yay!) and then asked me to take it off. WHAT? You gotta be yanking my chain, kid.

So, now it sits my purse. Great.

And he would like you to know it is now 11:03. In case you need to be somewhere or take some medication. He is pretty thoughtful like that.

It's a family affair

On a two-week Southern excursion, so the posts may be sparse "a while" (that was a shout out to my PA peeps, youse will get that...and the "youse", too!)

Went to my cousin's here in NC for some most excellent grub and even excellent-er company and conversation. She also has a rockin' cement pond, of which, the small ones enjoyed partaking of...

The boys had a blast and were nowhere near ready to leave at the end of the day. It was fan-freaking-tastic to see my girls and get caught up, chit-chat, and pass on the latest family gossip. My family kind of rocks. Be jealous. No, really. Do.

Here is a pic of all of us in the pool... After a few glasses of fruit-infused wine and summer beer... Not to say anyone was excessive, but *cough*lushes*cough*

That's my sister, me, my boobs, and cousins Jill, Jennie, and Maggie. And I know what you are saying, and yes, I agree. This picture convinced me of the need to purchase a new bathing suit. Holy crap on a cracker, can my boobs look any more ginormous? They look like they are in another zip code in this picture. I hate shopping for bathing suits, for the love of God. Pretty much I will pull a couple of suits off the rack, try them on, and if they are not completely heinous- SALE! I don't play around too much with trying on several swimsuits. It is depressing and a somewhat grotesque experience.

It is hotter than the hinges of Hades here in Naw Cack-a-lackie, but we are hoping to get to the train museum in the next couple of days. (Ok, the sawed-off kid is hoping, anyway.) I am going to make my little niece go, too. I plan to bribe with the promise of ice cream. If I have to, I will pull out the big guns. That's right. A Cheerwine Slush.

If you haven't had one, I am sorry for ya. They are a little styrofoam cup o' Heaven. Think Slurpee, but much betta.

Off to kick some ass in Wii bowling. No mercy for Gram.