Woof...? Please...?

The middle kid's new obsession is obtaining a dog. I am not sure where this came from...maybe from antagonizing my sister's dog, Abby, while we were (taking over) visiting her house this summer. I dunno, but the whole, "I reaaaaaaaaaally want a dog, mom...What about a dog, mom...? Wouldn't having a dog totally rock, mom?" thing is on my very last good nerve. I have put him off by saying, "well, maybe some day..." (while actually meaning hell to the no) but it is not pacifying the kid.

I am so not a dog person. I mean, I like my neph-and niece-dogs, Ernie and Lilly. Very cute, very furry, and very not at my house. All plusses in my book. I know if we got a dog, it would be another thing for me to take care of, and we all know my record with critters...*cough*fish killer*cough*.

So, I said that maybe he should just talk to Daddy about it, to which he said, "But talking is so boring." I asked what he meant and he said, "Daddy talks a lot.' Well-said, young squire. Yes, Daddy is a talker, and really likes to explain and (go on and on) share...

So, I said, "Well, we really should let Daddy say how he feels about it, since we are all part of the family and it should be a decision we all make.

And the kid wrapped it up with,"But, mom, you are in charge, anyway."

And I bought him a bag of Starburst and let him stay up late tonight. That kid is a rockstar in my book.

Thrift Store Thursday

I know, I know, it's Friday...but this actually happened yesterday and it has taken me a day to FINALLY figure out how to transfer pics from my Blackberry to my computer.

Yesterday, I headed to the local thrift store (don't want to say the name, but let's just say it rhymes with Shmalvation Shmarmy...) to drop off a box of stuff that should not have made the move to the new house. After dropping off the box o' crap (AKA Dave's stuff that I don't think he needs), I decided to go inside and take a look around. And, brother, am I glad I did. I found so many things to tell you about. It was kind of funny trying to take pictures with my phone on the DL and not look like a complete tool. Pictures say a thousand words, so let's start at the beginning...

Did you know they sell lingerie at thrift stores? Am I the only one who finds that so...wrong? I spotted this lady checking out the brassieres and (ick) garter belts.

Her next stop was at the bathing suit rack, but I was afraid she would see me taking pics of her and pull a blade on me, so I didn't get another one. But really, bathing suits and lingerie? Is there even enough bleach on the planet to get me to consider going there?

Then I stumbled upon this gem.

Yes, that is a candle with bottlecaps embedded in the wax. Note that the tag is still on it, so whoever was the lucky recipient of this gift got rid of it without even lighting it first. Decorating FAIL. WW Vern Yip D?

I think I found the Three Ugliest Chairs in the Continental United States. And if any of your furniture even remotely resembles this, I am sorry. Not for making fun of it, but just sorry. For you.

My camera phone did not really capture the extreme heinousness of the one chair on the far right. It was a lovely combination of doo-doo brown and "I ate too many candy corn and puked" orange.

On to the lovely and oh-so-Klassy bridal well.

Why yes, that appears to be a laundry basket at the bottom.

Clever, no?

No.

Why do I get the feeling that the wedding reception was held in someone's garage and involved a couple of kegs of Old Milwaukee?

I am thinking of making this a regular thing. I may head into the aforementioned thrift shop from time to time, just to see what divine things they are attempting to sell. Maybe next trip will be to, oh, Shmoodwill.

The Big K

Today the middle kid started Kindergarten. The oldest kid graduated from high school last year and I thought, "Hey, that was fun. Let's do it all over again." Riiiiight.

Hunter was so excited today. All day yesterday and this morning, I was so nervous that I couldn't eat (I know! Right? Crazy talk.) And woke up at 6 am today. I kept it together until I pulled away from the school and had myself a little cry-time. Not sure why, though. The kid went to preschool for the last two years and I didn't get all verklempt over it. Today, though, I was "that" mom. The Boo-Frickety-Hoo, My Little Baby Started Kindergarten Nutso mom.

He had a great day, though. He was all excited when I picked him up and proclaimed that they actually "...let me play on the playground! And I made a new friend, but I forget her name. I will ask her again tomorrow. I hope I remember this time, oh, and I had fruit chews for a snack, but nothing to drink, just the fruit chews... Oh, my teacher was nice, and did I tell you I made a new friend? I can't remember her name, but I know her face..." So I guess the big K was a hit. Maybe I can keep my junk together at the drop-off line tomorrow.

Then the littlest kid starts preschool next week.

I may need to be medicated for that.

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.

Box it up for me

My life, these days, consists of boxes. Big boxes, medium boxes (no, thanks, don't need the small boxes...) Where can we get boxes? What places have the best boxes? What places have crappy boxes? Hubs calling around town, ("Hey, can you hold some boxes aside for me?") I am overwhelmed with cardboard.

And it makes me absolutely MENTAL (moreso than normal) to live in chaos. Boxes everywhere=chaos to me. I cannot get away from them.

Boxes in the dining room...

Boxes in the basement...

And boxes that are empty and need to be filled with our crap...

We are starting the move in t-minus two days. That is two...dos...deux. I am so overwhelmed by packing that I handle it this way...

As you can imagine, being on my arse is getting me nowhere fast.

Oh, and the movers come on the 2nd. That is the absolute last day to get everything out of here. That is only five days away.

Soooooo, tomorrow is "Get Serious About Packing Already Day" in the H household. I have two small recruits who, when they ask their every day question, "Mommy, what fun place are we going to today?" are in for a sad shock. I am putting them to work. But I will try to make it fun for them (ok, so it is mainly for me). We will put on some loud music, shake our groove thangs, and throw stuff in boxes. I might even label them if I am feeling really organized.

I am excited about the new house. The getting there, not so much.