Check.
Billboard in major city?
Check.
Reflective vest in hunter safety neon orange, donned by FEMA contract workers?
AND CHECK!
Monday, August 31, 2009
PORTFOLIO BOOST...?
Full page ad in Coastal Living?
Check.
Billboard in major city?
Check.
Reflective vest in hunter safety neon orange, donned by FEMA contract workers?
AND CHECK!
Check.
Billboard in major city?
Check.
Reflective vest in hunter safety neon orange, donned by FEMA contract workers?
AND CHECK!
Friday, August 28, 2009
THIS WORLD WIDE WEB THING, IT'S LIKE MAGIC
And for the past two nights, IV has slept soundly from 8:30 PM to 6:30 AM, not a peep to be heard.
Maybe he's reading my blog.
Maybe he's reading my blog.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
DISPOSABLE INCOME
I remember a time when any spare funds I had went to things like Diorshow mascara and BCBG pumps.
And now? Let's just say that when I have a spare $299.99 lying around, here's what mama wants:
I had the Roomba robot vaccum pre-Ike but 2 ft. of saltwater apparently is a death sentence for electrical components. But forget the Roomba! THE SCOOBA WASHES THE FLOORS! It vaccums, washes and squeegees the floors ALL IN ONE!
And when you live with 2,700 sq. ft. of wood floors, a toddler and a hairy white and black mutt, this is the equivalent to heaven. Sheer heaven.
Liz's Wish List (as of the past week, it changes often):
1. Splenda dispenser (have you people SEEN THESE THINGS? As someone who arranges her breakfast outings around Splenda-offering establishments, this is MARVELOUS! Thanks Kayla!):
2. Thin mint blizzards - it's about DAMN TIME, Dairy Queen:
3. J. Crew "winnie" coat in bright butternut, because recently three people have told me I look great in yellow:
4. And now, the Scooba.
And now? Let's just say that when I have a spare $299.99 lying around, here's what mama wants:
I had the Roomba robot vaccum pre-Ike but 2 ft. of saltwater apparently is a death sentence for electrical components. But forget the Roomba! THE SCOOBA WASHES THE FLOORS! It vaccums, washes and squeegees the floors ALL IN ONE!
And when you live with 2,700 sq. ft. of wood floors, a toddler and a hairy white and black mutt, this is the equivalent to heaven. Sheer heaven.
Liz's Wish List (as of the past week, it changes often):
1. Splenda dispenser (have you people SEEN THESE THINGS? As someone who arranges her breakfast outings around Splenda-offering establishments, this is MARVELOUS! Thanks Kayla!):
2. Thin mint blizzards - it's about DAMN TIME, Dairy Queen:
3. J. Crew "winnie" coat in bright butternut, because recently three people have told me I look great in yellow:
4. And now, the Scooba.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
CRY, CRY BABY
IV has traditionally been a really good sleeper.
He goes down at a decent hour, around 8 - 8:30 (unless we're partying at Band Concert) and then wakes up promptly at 6 AM. Occasionally the gods of infant sleep bestow 6:30 AM on us and HALLELUJAH, is that ever SWEET!
BUT...you knew there had to be a "but"...
For the past month, IV has been waking up. At 4 AM. Before you even ask: he is not straying from his bedtime routine. Same song and dance (with toothbrushes).
Traditionally a pacifier would lull him back to sleep. BUT NOT ANYMORE.
When MJB or I go into the room it's the same old thing: ARMS RAISED. PICK ME UP.
And when you do not oblige, when perhaps you give him the pacifier and a blanket (which he has already pitched out of the crib in order to bait you like a raccoon to a snare trap), he immediately resumes yelling at the top of his lungs. And it continues, and continues.
MJB actually engaged him in a verbal sparring session the other morning including such phrases as "is that all you've got?!?" and "shove over, I'm getting in the crib," but it did not help. Last night we put our minds together and came up with an idea: since he is now expecting us to come in, we should just let him cry it out for once. If he knows we will not respond, he will put himself back to sleep (he can do that, does it all the time) and not expect us when he cries.
Let's just say that 45 minutes into episode number one, which we're also referring to as "Order of Earplugs and A Shot of Tequila, Please," the yelling finally ceased.
Now, please put down the phone and stop calling CPS. If he were really CRYING, we would have gone in.
But it's not crying...no sir. IT IS FULL ON BEEOTCHING. YELLING. HOLLERING.
I am fully open to reader ideas; please send them to me. He is not hungry. He is not wet. He is not sick. He is just, well, sort of a pain in the ass and extremely DEDICATED and RELENTLESS.
Where did he get THAT from?!?!
I look forward to your comments!
And for your viewing enjoyment:
In an effort to "GO GREEN," IV decideds that recycling is the right thing to do.
He goes down at a decent hour, around 8 - 8:30 (unless we're partying at Band Concert) and then wakes up promptly at 6 AM. Occasionally the gods of infant sleep bestow 6:30 AM on us and HALLELUJAH, is that ever SWEET!
BUT...you knew there had to be a "but"...
For the past month, IV has been waking up. At 4 AM. Before you even ask: he is not straying from his bedtime routine. Same song and dance (with toothbrushes).
Traditionally a pacifier would lull him back to sleep. BUT NOT ANYMORE.
When MJB or I go into the room it's the same old thing: ARMS RAISED. PICK ME UP.
And when you do not oblige, when perhaps you give him the pacifier and a blanket (which he has already pitched out of the crib in order to bait you like a raccoon to a snare trap), he immediately resumes yelling at the top of his lungs. And it continues, and continues.
MJB actually engaged him in a verbal sparring session the other morning including such phrases as "is that all you've got?!?" and "shove over, I'm getting in the crib," but it did not help. Last night we put our minds together and came up with an idea: since he is now expecting us to come in, we should just let him cry it out for once. If he knows we will not respond, he will put himself back to sleep (he can do that, does it all the time) and not expect us when he cries.
Let's just say that 45 minutes into episode number one, which we're also referring to as "Order of Earplugs and A Shot of Tequila, Please," the yelling finally ceased.
Now, please put down the phone and stop calling CPS. If he were really CRYING, we would have gone in.
But it's not crying...no sir. IT IS FULL ON BEEOTCHING. YELLING. HOLLERING.
I am fully open to reader ideas; please send them to me. He is not hungry. He is not wet. He is not sick. He is just, well, sort of a pain in the ass and extremely DEDICATED and RELENTLESS.
Where did he get THAT from?!?!
I look forward to your comments!
And for your viewing enjoyment:
In an effort to "GO GREEN," IV decideds that recycling is the right thing to do.
Monday, August 24, 2009
OH I KNOW YOU DIDN'T
Heidi Montag can suck it - she is NOT Brit Brit.
Brit, have you seen this? I would kick her ass with a Manolo and tell her that the nude body suit and blonde corkscrew curls ARE SO MTV VIDEO MUSIC AWARDS CIRCA 2000.
This is just awful:
We do NOT heart Heidi.
Brit, have you seen this? I would kick her ass with a Manolo and tell her that the nude body suit and blonde corkscrew curls ARE SO MTV VIDEO MUSIC AWARDS CIRCA 2000.
This is just awful:
We do NOT heart Heidi.
DYNAMITE AND DIAMONDS
The Big R (my dad's mom) used to tell me that "big things come in small packages - like dynamite and diamonds!" - this was supposed to help me feel better about being pretty shrimpy and skinny when I was young.
I guess that's why I fell in love with this little inconspicuous bird in the mural at Canyon Creek yesterday - he made a great companion to my afternoon Blue Moons with orange, laughing with friends and listening to the fans whir away the summer heat in the background.
I guess that's why I fell in love with this little inconspicuous bird in the mural at Canyon Creek yesterday - he made a great companion to my afternoon Blue Moons with orange, laughing with friends and listening to the fans whir away the summer heat in the background.
OOH - AHHH - BALL HIGH - SAYITSAYITSAYIT
Should I be concerned that IV's dance move is "droppin' it like it's hot?"
Is it better or worse than poppin' and lockin'?
These are the questions I ask.
Video to come. You decide.
Is it better or worse than poppin' and lockin'?
These are the questions I ask.
Video to come. You decide.
WEEKENDERS
I really disappointed myself last week by engaging in "Presidential Debate '09" with MJB on the back porch until 4 AM and managed to intake enough toxic nicotene to really, really piss my lungs off.
I didn't get enough sleep and then God further twisted the knife by providing me with a sick child the latter part of the week, just to drive home the fact that I am no longer 19 years old and have no business "partying like it's my birfday."
I am traditionally pretty hard on myself. I am a scheduled person. I TCB.
Needless to say, I had some major making up to do with my body and my psyche.
My birthday present to myself this year is running the Rock-N-Roll 1/2 marathon in San Antonio with MJB, Elise and Le. That's November 15th (the day prior to my B Day).
MJB and I decided we need to hit our training pretty hard starting ASAP. So we worked out Friday night and did some light grocery shopping and then turned in early - I swear I only budged once during the night and slept like CRAZY. Then we got up Saturday morning and did a 6 mile training run.
And it wasn't bad. 6 miles in 56:10. My goal is to finish the 1/2 in 2 hours. So far so good.
On the way to the gym Saturday morning, before our run, MJB and I had a convo about the importance of being active and how I think I would worry if my significant other worked out and was "fit" and I didn't...I just think that my entire life I have understood that I will not be a naturally thin person...I have to work out. I am committed to a lifestyle of being healthy, trying to take care of myself from the inside out, and realizing that activity is always going to be necessary for me, not just to look good, but to feel good.
And to look good.
Did I mention looking good?
Like, able to keep Mr. I-look-like-Mcdreamy-Patrick-Dempsey good.
I also feel really strongly about being a healthy role model to my child - that IV wants to go on a run with me, would rather swim than watch tv, chooses to play outside, to hit a tennis ball, and to train his body and explore his talents.
What do you think? Is it important to be with someone who is on the same fitness page as you? What about for kids? Can one un-fitness oriented person still foster a healthy lifestyle in a child?
I didn't get enough sleep and then God further twisted the knife by providing me with a sick child the latter part of the week, just to drive home the fact that I am no longer 19 years old and have no business "partying like it's my birfday."
I am traditionally pretty hard on myself. I am a scheduled person. I TCB.
Needless to say, I had some major making up to do with my body and my psyche.
My birthday present to myself this year is running the Rock-N-Roll 1/2 marathon in San Antonio with MJB, Elise and Le. That's November 15th (the day prior to my B Day).
MJB and I decided we need to hit our training pretty hard starting ASAP. So we worked out Friday night and did some light grocery shopping and then turned in early - I swear I only budged once during the night and slept like CRAZY. Then we got up Saturday morning and did a 6 mile training run.
And it wasn't bad. 6 miles in 56:10. My goal is to finish the 1/2 in 2 hours. So far so good.
On the way to the gym Saturday morning, before our run, MJB and I had a convo about the importance of being active and how I think I would worry if my significant other worked out and was "fit" and I didn't...I just think that my entire life I have understood that I will not be a naturally thin person...I have to work out. I am committed to a lifestyle of being healthy, trying to take care of myself from the inside out, and realizing that activity is always going to be necessary for me, not just to look good, but to feel good.
And to look good.
Did I mention looking good?
Like, able to keep Mr. I-look-like-Mcdreamy-Patrick-Dempsey good.
I also feel really strongly about being a healthy role model to my child - that IV wants to go on a run with me, would rather swim than watch tv, chooses to play outside, to hit a tennis ball, and to train his body and explore his talents.
What do you think? Is it important to be with someone who is on the same fitness page as you? What about for kids? Can one un-fitness oriented person still foster a healthy lifestyle in a child?
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
AN OBSERVATION ON AIRCO
My first floor air conditioning (or as the CornDog calls it, "the airco") has been broken for a few months.
Let me repeat: it has been above 90 degrees since May and my first floor air conditioning has not been working.
It's not that I haven't made attempts to have it repaired. In typical repairman fashion, I have been through three companies and JUST NOW, MONTHS LATER, I have bids in hand.
To replace my entire furnace and some random parts on the outside unit.
I'm not even going to go there.
Here's my observation though: my habits have changed as a part of this. I'm not making excuses, but there is nothing appealing about hanging out on the first floor when it's 87+ degrees down there.
Side note: the kitchen and dining room are down there.
YES, THIS KITCHEN. The one I toiled and stressed over and wanted to be installed RIGHT THIS SECOND.
So slowly, gradually, the first floor has been phased out of our lives. The kitchen and dining room are places we stop occasionally on the way to the back porch to drink wine or to load the dishwasher with bottles and sippy cups. The refrigerator is embarassingly...bare. My beloved cuisineart coffee maker ain't a-brewin' in the morning.
The other night, MJ made a statement about my habits that I took as somewhat of a critique. After lenghty debate (because HELLLOOOOO, I'm never wrong!), we made a vow: this airco is getting fixed.
It is the first step to eliminating these habits (which, OK, maybe SOMETIMES I sort of am guilty of. Ahem.)
And we will resume cooking and cleaning and dining downstairs. At the table. Like normal humans.
A few months doesn't seem like a long time but when you look at it in terms of a toddler's life....well, let's just say I don't want him growing up thinking it's appropriate to eat MJ chicken-n-rice special cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom.
Airco will be fixed this week.
Cooking will resume.
Dining will be at the table.
We are officially weaning IV from the bottle.
Everybody has a little growing up to do in this house, I suppose. Stay tuned.
Let me repeat: it has been above 90 degrees since May and my first floor air conditioning has not been working.
It's not that I haven't made attempts to have it repaired. In typical repairman fashion, I have been through three companies and JUST NOW, MONTHS LATER, I have bids in hand.
To replace my entire furnace and some random parts on the outside unit.
I'm not even going to go there.
Here's my observation though: my habits have changed as a part of this. I'm not making excuses, but there is nothing appealing about hanging out on the first floor when it's 87+ degrees down there.
Side note: the kitchen and dining room are down there.
YES, THIS KITCHEN. The one I toiled and stressed over and wanted to be installed RIGHT THIS SECOND.
So slowly, gradually, the first floor has been phased out of our lives. The kitchen and dining room are places we stop occasionally on the way to the back porch to drink wine or to load the dishwasher with bottles and sippy cups. The refrigerator is embarassingly...bare. My beloved cuisineart coffee maker ain't a-brewin' in the morning.
The other night, MJ made a statement about my habits that I took as somewhat of a critique. After lenghty debate (because HELLLOOOOO, I'm never wrong!), we made a vow: this airco is getting fixed.
It is the first step to eliminating these habits (which, OK, maybe SOMETIMES I sort of am guilty of. Ahem.)
And we will resume cooking and cleaning and dining downstairs. At the table. Like normal humans.
A few months doesn't seem like a long time but when you look at it in terms of a toddler's life....well, let's just say I don't want him growing up thinking it's appropriate to eat MJ chicken-n-rice special cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom.
Airco will be fixed this week.
Cooking will resume.
Dining will be at the table.
We are officially weaning IV from the bottle.
Everybody has a little growing up to do in this house, I suppose. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
SUGAR AND SPICE
Lindsay and I had visitors in the office this morning: a trio of girrrrlllss!
These three musketeers belong to our friends Erin and Christin - and LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING:
There is nothing in the world that makes you want to have a girl like these three and their enormous, delectable bow heads and pink poodle matching accessories....I mean, seriously, there is NOTHING FUN ABOUT BOYS WHEN YOU COMPARE IT TO THESE LITTLE HONEYS!
Sorry IV, but dinosaurs and sharks just don't add up to red gingham and pink pacifiers with flowers.
I love, love, love having a boy - being mama is really special to little boys. I will always be there when he falls down, when he scores a goal, when he walks the stage...but man, I will sure delight in the day when I get to buy strawberries and cream swimmin' suits and pink polka dotted blankies.
These three musketeers belong to our friends Erin and Christin - and LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING:
There is nothing in the world that makes you want to have a girl like these three and their enormous, delectable bow heads and pink poodle matching accessories....I mean, seriously, there is NOTHING FUN ABOUT BOYS WHEN YOU COMPARE IT TO THESE LITTLE HONEYS!
Sorry IV, but dinosaurs and sharks just don't add up to red gingham and pink pacifiers with flowers.
I love, love, love having a boy - being mama is really special to little boys. I will always be there when he falls down, when he scores a goal, when he walks the stage...but man, I will sure delight in the day when I get to buy strawberries and cream swimmin' suits and pink polka dotted blankies.
HEY GEORGE!
Please do not interpret my previous post about FB gossipers to mean ANYTHING, ANYTHING AT ALL about my lovely, amazing, faithful readers. I heart you - stick around, please, pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top?
You're NOT FB-esque - you're wonderful and I want to hug you and squeeze you and call you George.
You're NOT FB-esque - you're wonderful and I want to hug you and squeeze you and call you George.
Monday, August 17, 2009
AND GOOD RIDDANCE
I offically deactivated my Facebook account today.
And it's long overdue.
I completely understand and appreciate the value of social networking. I too preach the importance of being a dynamic, proactive source of information.
But here's what I DON'T understand: why does everyone have to be all up in everyone's business?
I'm at a point in my life where I think I'm culling, separating the important from the non-important. Prioritizing. It's the reason I do laundry when IV is sleeping. It's the reason I shower at 6 AM before he rises.
Priorities.
Knowing what you ate for breakfast is NOT A PRIORITY.
I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but really. It wastes my time. Time that is precious and should be spent enjoying and creating, not rolling my eyes because you have insomnia.
Don't even get me started on f*ing Mafia Wars.
I'm sorry, that was rude. And your retort should be: "well, you don't HAVE to read it."
AND YOU'RE EXACTLY RIGHT.
Which is why it felt incredibly empowering today to hit "deactivate."
Plus, here's my take: if you want to know what's going on with me, pick up the phone. Write me a letter. Come stop at the house for a glass of wine or some play time.
It's far too easy for people who are just sorta-kinda-acquaintances to know what I'm doing - without asking me, or for my permission - and I'm just not comfortable with that.
As LG says "Don't yall watch LIFETIME? The internet is just ONE BIG PREDATOR!"
I'm ready to scale life back a bit. Peel off some layers. Stay at home and cook. Water my danged yard. Turn off my phone. Stretch. Run. Relax.
Put some sweat equity into life before I look up one day and it's gone.
Stop by and see us, we'll be watering the knockout roses.
And it's long overdue.
I completely understand and appreciate the value of social networking. I too preach the importance of being a dynamic, proactive source of information.
But here's what I DON'T understand: why does everyone have to be all up in everyone's business?
I'm at a point in my life where I think I'm culling, separating the important from the non-important. Prioritizing. It's the reason I do laundry when IV is sleeping. It's the reason I shower at 6 AM before he rises.
Priorities.
Knowing what you ate for breakfast is NOT A PRIORITY.
I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but really. It wastes my time. Time that is precious and should be spent enjoying and creating, not rolling my eyes because you have insomnia.
Don't even get me started on f*ing Mafia Wars.
I'm sorry, that was rude. And your retort should be: "well, you don't HAVE to read it."
AND YOU'RE EXACTLY RIGHT.
Which is why it felt incredibly empowering today to hit "deactivate."
Plus, here's my take: if you want to know what's going on with me, pick up the phone. Write me a letter. Come stop at the house for a glass of wine or some play time.
It's far too easy for people who are just sorta-kinda-acquaintances to know what I'm doing - without asking me, or for my permission - and I'm just not comfortable with that.
As LG says "Don't yall watch LIFETIME? The internet is just ONE BIG PREDATOR!"
I'm ready to scale life back a bit. Peel off some layers. Stay at home and cook. Water my danged yard. Turn off my phone. Stretch. Run. Relax.
Put some sweat equity into life before I look up one day and it's gone.
Stop by and see us, we'll be watering the knockout roses.
WELL BEHAVED WOMEN RARELY MAKE HISTORY
It's the birthday of an actress known for her clever comments and double entendres: Mae West, born in Brooklyn (1893).
She said, "Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before."
And, "Those who are easily shocked should be shocked more often."
Happy birthday Mae!
She said, "Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before."
And, "Those who are easily shocked should be shocked more often."
Happy birthday Mae!
Friday, August 14, 2009
GIFTS
What is the most important gift you've ever (1) given and (2) received?
1. Most important gift given:
Last night at my HB meeting, we were discussing how LITTLE MONEY we had in college and how incredible it would be if we could live now on the amount of money we lived on THEN.
I mean, seriously, I think I made $200 a month at my job at the extension service. IF THAT. And I PARTIED like a rock star, went out to eat, had clothes and HAD A STANDING TANNING AND NAIL APPOINTMENT.
Sh*t, I don't even have that NOW.
For Christmas one year, being poor, broke college student, I came up with creative (i.e. INEXPENSIVE) gifts for my parents.
These gifts still sit on display in our house today, 9 years later. Apparently, I done good.
I made each of my parents a box. I decorated it with little drawings of us and things that were important in our lives at that point, being Aggie parents, traveling, etc. Inside the box, I filled it with pieces of paper, on which were written special memories or characteristics of my parents that I wanted them to know I appreciated. Memories from trips to Europe, stopping to see Ed the 8,000 pound prairie dog on the way to Montana, little inside jokes, jabs about staged pictures of my dad shaking my hand when I graduated from 8th grade, sort of like I was accepting an Emmy (um, WTF).
I made it so that they could pull out a slip of paper from time to time and remember why they're so important to me, so special.
PRETTY DAMN GOOD FOR A BROKE ASS COLLEGE STUDENT, EH?
2. Most important gift received:
Just so that no one gripes, let's establish this: IV is the best gift I've ever received in my entire life. He is the moon and stars, the Reeses to my peanut butter cup.
But we're talking tangible gifts, folks.
When I got pregnant, I went straight to my friend Grace's home in Amarillo. Grace and I were never BFF because she had a BFF already but we were pretty danged close. She is an amazing, spirited person, with such a passion for life. And I am all about being passionate.
She also can run the fastest naked circles you've ever seen in the rain. Don't ask, it's a Choctaw thing I think.
Anyway, Grace had just had her own little one, Betty B., so I went to her for some celebrating and to check out this mom gig, see what was up. How hard can it be?
Grace took me in a spoiled the heck out of me - she gave me books and vitamins and raspberry voo-doo medicine that would send me into labor. She took me to Poppy's house where they made me gumbo and a cake for my birthday. We sat in the outdoor garden house and lit a fire, sat around talking mom to mom to almost-mom. She gave me the fluffiest spare room bed and Brian fixed pancakes in the morning. It was HEAVEN.
And Grace gave me a gift - a delicate silver locket for me to put the baby's picture in.
It was such a small gesture but such a big lesson.
Grace carries people in her heart everywhere she goes - and while I may not be as good at that as her, she gave me a gift, a tool, to help.
I wore that locket the entire time I was pregnant...a little less now because I have a grabby paws toddler who thinks that everything should be pulled and yanked and thrown and stomped on with his monkey feet...but I keep it in its soft little grey Barnes Jewlers box, on top of my dressing table.
Sometime soon I will be able to wear it again but I will never forget the kindess and love that was behind this gesture.
Henry James once said that "There are three important things in life: the first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. And the third is to be kind. "
It might be a word, a piece of paper, or something much bigger - but give, laugh and love.
xoxo
iheartgalveston
1. Most important gift given:
Last night at my HB meeting, we were discussing how LITTLE MONEY we had in college and how incredible it would be if we could live now on the amount of money we lived on THEN.
I mean, seriously, I think I made $200 a month at my job at the extension service. IF THAT. And I PARTIED like a rock star, went out to eat, had clothes and HAD A STANDING TANNING AND NAIL APPOINTMENT.
Sh*t, I don't even have that NOW.
For Christmas one year, being poor, broke college student, I came up with creative (i.e. INEXPENSIVE) gifts for my parents.
These gifts still sit on display in our house today, 9 years later. Apparently, I done good.
I made each of my parents a box. I decorated it with little drawings of us and things that were important in our lives at that point, being Aggie parents, traveling, etc. Inside the box, I filled it with pieces of paper, on which were written special memories or characteristics of my parents that I wanted them to know I appreciated. Memories from trips to Europe, stopping to see Ed the 8,000 pound prairie dog on the way to Montana, little inside jokes, jabs about staged pictures of my dad shaking my hand when I graduated from 8th grade, sort of like I was accepting an Emmy (um, WTF).
I made it so that they could pull out a slip of paper from time to time and remember why they're so important to me, so special.
PRETTY DAMN GOOD FOR A BROKE ASS COLLEGE STUDENT, EH?
2. Most important gift received:
Just so that no one gripes, let's establish this: IV is the best gift I've ever received in my entire life. He is the moon and stars, the Reeses to my peanut butter cup.
But we're talking tangible gifts, folks.
When I got pregnant, I went straight to my friend Grace's home in Amarillo. Grace and I were never BFF because she had a BFF already but we were pretty danged close. She is an amazing, spirited person, with such a passion for life. And I am all about being passionate.
She also can run the fastest naked circles you've ever seen in the rain. Don't ask, it's a Choctaw thing I think.
Anyway, Grace had just had her own little one, Betty B., so I went to her for some celebrating and to check out this mom gig, see what was up. How hard can it be?
Grace took me in a spoiled the heck out of me - she gave me books and vitamins and raspberry voo-doo medicine that would send me into labor. She took me to Poppy's house where they made me gumbo and a cake for my birthday. We sat in the outdoor garden house and lit a fire, sat around talking mom to mom to almost-mom. She gave me the fluffiest spare room bed and Brian fixed pancakes in the morning. It was HEAVEN.
And Grace gave me a gift - a delicate silver locket for me to put the baby's picture in.
It was such a small gesture but such a big lesson.
Grace carries people in her heart everywhere she goes - and while I may not be as good at that as her, she gave me a gift, a tool, to help.
I wore that locket the entire time I was pregnant...a little less now because I have a grabby paws toddler who thinks that everything should be pulled and yanked and thrown and stomped on with his monkey feet...but I keep it in its soft little grey Barnes Jewlers box, on top of my dressing table.
Sometime soon I will be able to wear it again but I will never forget the kindess and love that was behind this gesture.
Henry James once said that "There are three important things in life: the first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. And the third is to be kind. "
It might be a word, a piece of paper, or something much bigger - but give, laugh and love.
xoxo
iheartgalveston
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
THAT'S FOR REAL, MON
The big Belize post is finally here!
I have this terrible habit of owning a really ridiculously expensive camera that I don't take with me on trips. MJ recently asked why and, well, I just feel like sometimes stopping to take a picture and stage people gets in the way of truly experiencing something.
Um, so I let others ruin their vacation by taking pictures of ME - NICE!
Wow, that's wrong. Why didn't I think of that before, selfish, selfish girl.
Big snaps to Bev for all these fantastic pics. So here we go - you'd better Belize it!
We had a large group - 10 to be exact - and traveled remarkably well! The day started early, sunglasses were left at security, bags were left at terminals but somehow we all managed to clear customs without having to leave MJ as collateral. The airports were fine...I would have felt completely comfortable taking IV with me as we were safe the entire trip.
Um, yeah, not kidding, this is where we stayed! Pelican Reef Villas in San Pedro, Ambergris Caye. It was INCREDIBLE - we had a two bedroom condo, full kitchen, laundry, fab vistas (shout out to Yale and his vistas) and all the accomodations we could want for:
Night One: chicken drop at Calientes to celebrate birthdays and get delicious dinner. Ever been to chicken sh*t bingo in Austin? Same thing only ISLAND STYLE!
Belize marked the first trip for MJ and I, out-da-country, and we proved to be excellent traveling partners...and I really think that how you travel together is a deal "maker" or "breaker." Because there's a difference between "you packed 4 pieces of matching Louis Vuitton luggage and a hanging bag" and "MJ style: carry on suitcase and "Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand". God, I love him.
Snorkel CRAZAY! We took the most fantastic snorkel trip with our tour guide, Denzel Washington:
We saw millions of amazing fish, sharks (MJ ain't skeerd) and an extremely large sting ray. Yale decided to stand atop a coral reef and proclaim it "Yaleston" until MJ yelled at him.
Denzel made us fish for our lunch:
Who do you think caught fish? TRY AGAIN:
YOU KNOW THIS IS TRUE:
In San Pedro, you travel by golf cart. There are lessons to be learned. Lesson Number One: DO NOT LET MJ DRIVE.
Lesson Number Two: these are Belizean speed bumps or "lazy cops" as the locals call it. All they mean are DO NOT LET MJ DRIVE.
We went to Lamanai, a Mayan ruin, on my last day there - we climbed the high temple, almost 9 stories up. Um, let's just go ahead and establish that 9 stories is a LONG WAY UP. At least we worked off some Belikin Beer calories...
View from the top, proving that MJ cares for neither pictures nor heights:
You could see for more than 25 miles from the top! SEE? SEE? Look at the view AND NOT THE HORRIBLE CAP I WAS SUBJECTED TO WEAR COMPLETELY AGAINST MY WILL.
Believe me, it's a much longer way DOWN that it was UP:
We did it! MJ would like to punch me in the face right now...except that might mess up his stupid tu cap...
All in all it was an amazing trip, on so many levels. I learned a lot. A lot about myself. A lot about my MJ. A lot about golf carts and iguanas and not leaving your shoes on the deck for "Cookie" the neighbor dog to steal. I also learned that trips aren't just about the places you go but who you go with. Families are to be cherished. Babies are to be loved...and missed terribly. Belikins are for drinking and returning the bottles.
Goodbye Belize - until next time!
I have this terrible habit of owning a really ridiculously expensive camera that I don't take with me on trips. MJ recently asked why and, well, I just feel like sometimes stopping to take a picture and stage people gets in the way of truly experiencing something.
Um, so I let others ruin their vacation by taking pictures of ME - NICE!
Wow, that's wrong. Why didn't I think of that before, selfish, selfish girl.
Big snaps to Bev for all these fantastic pics. So here we go - you'd better Belize it!
We had a large group - 10 to be exact - and traveled remarkably well! The day started early, sunglasses were left at security, bags were left at terminals but somehow we all managed to clear customs without having to leave MJ as collateral. The airports were fine...I would have felt completely comfortable taking IV with me as we were safe the entire trip.
Um, yeah, not kidding, this is where we stayed! Pelican Reef Villas in San Pedro, Ambergris Caye. It was INCREDIBLE - we had a two bedroom condo, full kitchen, laundry, fab vistas (shout out to Yale and his vistas) and all the accomodations we could want for:
Night One: chicken drop at Calientes to celebrate birthdays and get delicious dinner. Ever been to chicken sh*t bingo in Austin? Same thing only ISLAND STYLE!
Belize marked the first trip for MJ and I, out-da-country, and we proved to be excellent traveling partners...and I really think that how you travel together is a deal "maker" or "breaker." Because there's a difference between "you packed 4 pieces of matching Louis Vuitton luggage and a hanging bag" and "MJ style: carry on suitcase and "Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand". God, I love him.
Snorkel CRAZAY! We took the most fantastic snorkel trip with our tour guide, Denzel Washington:
We saw millions of amazing fish, sharks (MJ ain't skeerd) and an extremely large sting ray. Yale decided to stand atop a coral reef and proclaim it "Yaleston" until MJ yelled at him.
Denzel made us fish for our lunch:
Who do you think caught fish? TRY AGAIN:
YOU KNOW THIS IS TRUE:
In San Pedro, you travel by golf cart. There are lessons to be learned. Lesson Number One: DO NOT LET MJ DRIVE.
Lesson Number Two: these are Belizean speed bumps or "lazy cops" as the locals call it. All they mean are DO NOT LET MJ DRIVE.
We went to Lamanai, a Mayan ruin, on my last day there - we climbed the high temple, almost 9 stories up. Um, let's just go ahead and establish that 9 stories is a LONG WAY UP. At least we worked off some Belikin Beer calories...
View from the top, proving that MJ cares for neither pictures nor heights:
You could see for more than 25 miles from the top! SEE? SEE? Look at the view AND NOT THE HORRIBLE CAP I WAS SUBJECTED TO WEAR COMPLETELY AGAINST MY WILL.
Believe me, it's a much longer way DOWN that it was UP:
We did it! MJ would like to punch me in the face right now...except that might mess up his stupid tu cap...
All in all it was an amazing trip, on so many levels. I learned a lot. A lot about myself. A lot about my MJ. A lot about golf carts and iguanas and not leaving your shoes on the deck for "Cookie" the neighbor dog to steal. I also learned that trips aren't just about the places you go but who you go with. Families are to be cherished. Babies are to be loved...and missed terribly. Belikins are for drinking and returning the bottles.
Goodbye Belize - until next time!
A MILLION PIECES
We recently converted the spare bedroom into "IV's Wild Kingdom" where there is glorious space for playing, romping, reading and messing.
Dear friends, when you buy IV a toy that comes with 26 loose alphabet letter pieces, please just know this: paybacks are HELL. Pagganucci, your number is up girl.
Dear friends, when you buy IV a toy that comes with 26 loose alphabet letter pieces, please just know this: paybacks are HELL. Pagganucci, your number is up girl.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
WINDING DOWN
Is it possible that I am breathing the last dog days of summer?
School is right around the corner - just ask any of my teacher friends who are busy arranging their rooms for the fall.
The last band concert is tonight. I meant to go to more this summer but we were always so busy...so many things to do, people to see.
But tonight, we are going to make a point of going, sitting on our blanket, listening to the trombones and drums, shaking our maracas, sipping on cold drinks and still sweating under this mask of Texas heat.
We will listen to our friend, Sae, as she reads her last story for the summer...leaving us to wonder what next summer will have in store for us.
What will next summer have in store for us?
2 years old?
A new home?
A new vista?
A new dream?
For the time being, we have dogs to walk, one final beach holiday to celebrate, pumkins to carve, houses to clean, babies to nap.
And before we know it, we'll have those answers about next summer, won't we?
School is right around the corner - just ask any of my teacher friends who are busy arranging their rooms for the fall.
The last band concert is tonight. I meant to go to more this summer but we were always so busy...so many things to do, people to see.
But tonight, we are going to make a point of going, sitting on our blanket, listening to the trombones and drums, shaking our maracas, sipping on cold drinks and still sweating under this mask of Texas heat.
We will listen to our friend, Sae, as she reads her last story for the summer...leaving us to wonder what next summer will have in store for us.
What will next summer have in store for us?
2 years old?
A new home?
A new vista?
A new dream?
For the time being, we have dogs to walk, one final beach holiday to celebrate, pumkins to carve, houses to clean, babies to nap.
And before we know it, we'll have those answers about next summer, won't we?
Monday, August 10, 2009
CHECK...AND CHECK
An excerpt from kottke.org and the "7 Vices of Highly Creative People" - take THIS, Stephen Covey:
Vice Three: Put Gambling First
Gambling is at the heart of every worthwhile accomplishment in life. Consequently, vice three is essential for the success of your creativity. Instinctively, the highly creative person knows that nothing matters except the throw of the dice. As the French say, "There are two great pleasures in gambling: that of winning and that of losing." Or, in the words of Mark Twain, "There are two times in a man's life when he should [gamble]: when he can't afford it and when he can." These are vital lessons.
The world is full of stories of highly creative people whose success was based on the big gamble. A young Steven Spielberg sneaks into a Hollywood film studio, sets up an office and proceeds to act like an employee, thus beginning the most lucrative directorial career in history. Thirty-year-old Henry Miller moves to Paris with little money and no prospects, determined to become the most talked-about American novelist of his generation, and does. Hugh Hefner boldly walks into the offices of John Baumgarth and acquires the rights to reproduce the photograph of a nude Marilyn Monroe, a little known starlet, for his yet-to-be-published magazine.
Certainly, there are horrifying stories of those who gambled and lost heavily, whose compulsive involvement in games of chance, often played out in the arena of big business, nearly ruined them and scores of others. But it's not until the end of life that we truly know what we've won or lost. French philosopher Denis Diderot summed it up eloquently:
The world is the house of the strong. I shall not know until the end what I have lost or won in this place, in this vast gambling den where I have spent more than 60 years, dicebox in hand, shaking the dice.
Want to see the other vices? Check it out.
Vice Three: Put Gambling First
Gambling is at the heart of every worthwhile accomplishment in life. Consequently, vice three is essential for the success of your creativity. Instinctively, the highly creative person knows that nothing matters except the throw of the dice. As the French say, "There are two great pleasures in gambling: that of winning and that of losing." Or, in the words of Mark Twain, "There are two times in a man's life when he should [gamble]: when he can't afford it and when he can." These are vital lessons.
The world is full of stories of highly creative people whose success was based on the big gamble. A young Steven Spielberg sneaks into a Hollywood film studio, sets up an office and proceeds to act like an employee, thus beginning the most lucrative directorial career in history. Thirty-year-old Henry Miller moves to Paris with little money and no prospects, determined to become the most talked-about American novelist of his generation, and does. Hugh Hefner boldly walks into the offices of John Baumgarth and acquires the rights to reproduce the photograph of a nude Marilyn Monroe, a little known starlet, for his yet-to-be-published magazine.
Certainly, there are horrifying stories of those who gambled and lost heavily, whose compulsive involvement in games of chance, often played out in the arena of big business, nearly ruined them and scores of others. But it's not until the end of life that we truly know what we've won or lost. French philosopher Denis Diderot summed it up eloquently:
The world is the house of the strong. I shall not know until the end what I have lost or won in this place, in this vast gambling den where I have spent more than 60 years, dicebox in hand, shaking the dice.
Want to see the other vices? Check it out.
WE (HEART) ELLE
IV's girl, Elle B., hooked him up PHAT with a LeapFrog animal farm toy for his birthday - and he hasn't put it down since! Even though we don't break out the animal-face-and-booty pieces often, lest they be lost in the black hole called my Jetta, IV still loves to press the chicken at the top of the farm and listen to the songs.
In fact, he presses it repeatedly so that we really only are privy to about 3 seconds of each song.
It's like Biz Markee beat-boxing in a hen house.
Thanks Elle!
In fact, he presses it repeatedly so that we really only are privy to about 3 seconds of each song.
It's like Biz Markee beat-boxing in a hen house.
Thanks Elle!
HE'S JUST THAT INTO YOU
We watched "He's Just Not That Into You" last night for the first time and here are my thoughts:
1. Cheating is the most awful, painful thing in the entire world.
2. Luring someone into cheating might be worse. And more reprehensible.
3. Scarlett Johanssen has a really large booty. Nothing is done to conceal this.
3. Could you be any cuter than Ginnifer Goodwin? I think not.
And the best of all
Ben Affleck to Jennifer Aniston: "Make sure you check the pockets"
1. Cheating is the most awful, painful thing in the entire world.
2. Luring someone into cheating might be worse. And more reprehensible.
3. Scarlett Johanssen has a really large booty. Nothing is done to conceal this.
3. Could you be any cuter than Ginnifer Goodwin? I think not.
And the best of all
Ben Affleck to Jennifer Aniston: "Make sure you check the pockets"
Friday, August 7, 2009
INSTINCT: LISTEN TO IT ALREADY
IV going to "school" every day has turned into a viral battle of epic proportions: he has contracted and fought illness of all sorts in the past two months. Rashes, ear infections, goopy eyes, and now...
When I picked him up yesteday he seemed...tired. Just not his normal, excited self. We went over to Club de Biron and started making dinner, puttering around, playing with toys, dancing in the sprinkler while Yoyo dug up a dead palm tree in the yard.
He got fussy. Hungry? So we ate a mixed berry yogurt. The whole thing.
Still fussy. Tired. Cranky. It's 6 PM.
"Maybe he's thirsty?" I thought to myself.
The only juice in the fridge was grape juice. So I poured a little in his bottle and watered it down heavily. I sat down with him quietly in the spare room while he drank. He was falling asleep while drinking - weird!
AND THEN INSTINCT KICKED IN:
"Maybe grape juice isn't a good idea. If he gets sick, it's not going to be pretty. Ew. Purple."
I ACTUALLY THOUGHT THAT.
MJB came in and took one look at IV and said "I think we should put him to bed" - to which I agreed, even though it was only 6:30 PM. So I switched off with him, and started to unzip the pack-n-play and I hear...
"WHOA"
...followed by the most incredible display of projectile vomiting I have ever seen come out of a human. Now, I'm not trying to freak you out or anything, and those of you who don't have children, beware: PROJECTILE VOMIT IS CRA-ZAY.
God, I even hate the word. It's gross. Blech.
Within seconds, both IV, the couch, the floor AND MJB were covered.
It was like a horror movie entitled "Your Mom is Really Stupid and Shouldn't Have Given You Purple Liquid on Top of Soy Yogurt."
"Both of you - in the bath!" is the only thing I could think.
So with IV crying at the top of his lungs (poor buppy!), MJB strips him down and they climb into the tub, washing off yucky nastiness, enough nastiness to necessitate a draining of the water and re-filling of the tub.
While I set about cleaning up the carnage, IV calmed down and started acting more like himself, albeit tired.
After bath time, we put him to bed. He felt warm-ish so I turned the fan on and didn't put PJs on him. Less laundry in case of throw up, part deuce. At least my brain started working at SOME point.
Iv had the courtesy to give us a few hours for dinner and an episode of "30 Rock" before he started waking up...hourly, burning up. I finally went to Walgreens at 1 AM to get infant Motrin and pacifiers (which mysteriously disappeared during this episode, handy). He woke up again at 2 AM, at which point MJB and I retrieved him and plopped him in between us in bed.
He slept like a rock, albeit a LAVA rock, exuding enough heat to power Chernobyl till 6 AM.
And then the fever broke.
And through all this, here's my lessons:
1. I have a really, really good kiddo. He is hardly ever sick, and when he IS sick, he lets you know what makes him feel good and what makes him want to empty the contents of his anatomy on to a surrounding 3 mile radius.
2. Do not forget the emergency pacifier: take a lesson from Ashlee DuPont and BE YE NOT SO STUPID.
3. When your mind picks up the red flag and waves it around and then JABS IT IN YOUR EYE AND SAYS "GRAPE JUICE IS A BAD IDEA" um, well, maybe you should listen.
xoxo
Mama
When I picked him up yesteday he seemed...tired. Just not his normal, excited self. We went over to Club de Biron and started making dinner, puttering around, playing with toys, dancing in the sprinkler while Yoyo dug up a dead palm tree in the yard.
He got fussy. Hungry? So we ate a mixed berry yogurt. The whole thing.
Still fussy. Tired. Cranky. It's 6 PM.
"Maybe he's thirsty?" I thought to myself.
The only juice in the fridge was grape juice. So I poured a little in his bottle and watered it down heavily. I sat down with him quietly in the spare room while he drank. He was falling asleep while drinking - weird!
AND THEN INSTINCT KICKED IN:
"Maybe grape juice isn't a good idea. If he gets sick, it's not going to be pretty. Ew. Purple."
I ACTUALLY THOUGHT THAT.
MJB came in and took one look at IV and said "I think we should put him to bed" - to which I agreed, even though it was only 6:30 PM. So I switched off with him, and started to unzip the pack-n-play and I hear...
"WHOA"
...followed by the most incredible display of projectile vomiting I have ever seen come out of a human. Now, I'm not trying to freak you out or anything, and those of you who don't have children, beware: PROJECTILE VOMIT IS CRA-ZAY.
God, I even hate the word. It's gross. Blech.
Within seconds, both IV, the couch, the floor AND MJB were covered.
It was like a horror movie entitled "Your Mom is Really Stupid and Shouldn't Have Given You Purple Liquid on Top of Soy Yogurt."
"Both of you - in the bath!" is the only thing I could think.
So with IV crying at the top of his lungs (poor buppy!), MJB strips him down and they climb into the tub, washing off yucky nastiness, enough nastiness to necessitate a draining of the water and re-filling of the tub.
While I set about cleaning up the carnage, IV calmed down and started acting more like himself, albeit tired.
After bath time, we put him to bed. He felt warm-ish so I turned the fan on and didn't put PJs on him. Less laundry in case of throw up, part deuce. At least my brain started working at SOME point.
Iv had the courtesy to give us a few hours for dinner and an episode of "30 Rock" before he started waking up...hourly, burning up. I finally went to Walgreens at 1 AM to get infant Motrin and pacifiers (which mysteriously disappeared during this episode, handy). He woke up again at 2 AM, at which point MJB and I retrieved him and plopped him in between us in bed.
He slept like a rock, albeit a LAVA rock, exuding enough heat to power Chernobyl till 6 AM.
And then the fever broke.
And through all this, here's my lessons:
1. I have a really, really good kiddo. He is hardly ever sick, and when he IS sick, he lets you know what makes him feel good and what makes him want to empty the contents of his anatomy on to a surrounding 3 mile radius.
2. Do not forget the emergency pacifier: take a lesson from Ashlee DuPont and BE YE NOT SO STUPID.
3. When your mind picks up the red flag and waves it around and then JABS IT IN YOUR EYE AND SAYS "GRAPE JUICE IS A BAD IDEA" um, well, maybe you should listen.
xoxo
Mama
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
KARIOUT WITH A PANDA BEAR
My most favorite 11:30 lunch partner in the world, Elise, and I dined today and had quite the experience. At Lindsay and Brandon's recommendation, and because Elise needed noodles, we went to China Sea, a new Chinese restaurant in the G.
G doesn't have many chinese restuarants. Um, two to be exact. And I got enough Happy Budda during my high school years to satisfy my MSG levels for life.
So, China Sea.
Let me set the stage: it is located in an old Dairy Queen.
No lie.
There is a lot of neon now, and a lot of pictures and some BIG ASS WOKS.
Woks that I may or may not have coveted. There were, like 5 BIG WOKS.
I arrived first and text messaged Elise "do not be scared. I think the food is good."
She arrives and we browse the lunch menu.
I order chicken and broccoli. Easy.
Elise steps up and says "I would like the shrimp chow mein with no beans, just noodles and shrimp."
Which cause the chinese man taking her order to turn simultaneously to the chinese woman on his left, who positively ERUPTS into a string of incompreshensible lines, highlighted by, but not limited to:
"LOOKATPICTURE!LOOK!" (accompanied with lots of jabbing of fingers at the menu board)
"NONOODLESINCHOWMEIN?"
"SHRIMPCHOWMEIN!"
Elise resigned to ordering the shrimp chow mein as it came, but without being asked what type of sides she wanted. Apparently a chow mein line was crossed and Elise was not going back any time soon.
Within 4 minutes, the chinese ladys starts yelling at me:
"CHICKENWITHBROCCOLI! CHICKENWITHBROCCOLI!"
I am standing 4 feet away from her.
The outside voice was NOT necessary.
I start cracking up. And retrieve my CHICKENWITHBROCCOLI!
2 minutes later, you guessed it:
"NONOODLEINDACHOWMEIN!!!!!!NONOODLEINDACHOWMEIN!!!!!!!"
When I got back to the office this afternoon, Elise and I started to email about Sponsor Party and our next Holiday Ball meeting.
From: Elise Worthen
Sent: Wednesday, August 05, 2009 2:40 PM
To: Liz Rogers
Subject: Re: Meeting date
Ok, Just checking... :)
I just re-enacted the lady yelling at us for my co-workers... It was a good story.
And my response:
From: Liz Rogers
Date: Wed, 5 Aug 2009 14:40:21 -0500
To: Elise Worthen
Conversation: Meeting date
Subject: RE: Meeting date
I did it for Lindsay the second I walked back in – it’s a GOOD one!
CHICKENANDBROCCOLI! SOMEONECHICKENWITHBROCCOLI!
Her rebuttal:
NONOODLEINDACHOWMEIN!!!!!!!
NONOODLEINDACHOWMEIN!!!!!!!
G doesn't have many chinese restuarants. Um, two to be exact. And I got enough Happy Budda during my high school years to satisfy my MSG levels for life.
So, China Sea.
Let me set the stage: it is located in an old Dairy Queen.
No lie.
There is a lot of neon now, and a lot of pictures and some BIG ASS WOKS.
Woks that I may or may not have coveted. There were, like 5 BIG WOKS.
I arrived first and text messaged Elise "do not be scared. I think the food is good."
She arrives and we browse the lunch menu.
I order chicken and broccoli. Easy.
Elise steps up and says "I would like the shrimp chow mein with no beans, just noodles and shrimp."
Which cause the chinese man taking her order to turn simultaneously to the chinese woman on his left, who positively ERUPTS into a string of incompreshensible lines, highlighted by, but not limited to:
"LOOKATPICTURE!LOOK!" (accompanied with lots of jabbing of fingers at the menu board)
"NONOODLESINCHOWMEIN?"
"SHRIMPCHOWMEIN!"
Elise resigned to ordering the shrimp chow mein as it came, but without being asked what type of sides she wanted. Apparently a chow mein line was crossed and Elise was not going back any time soon.
Within 4 minutes, the chinese ladys starts yelling at me:
"CHICKENWITHBROCCOLI! CHICKENWITHBROCCOLI!"
I am standing 4 feet away from her.
The outside voice was NOT necessary.
I start cracking up. And retrieve my CHICKENWITHBROCCOLI!
2 minutes later, you guessed it:
"NONOODLEINDACHOWMEIN!!!!!!NONOODLEINDACHOWMEIN!!!!!!!"
When I got back to the office this afternoon, Elise and I started to email about Sponsor Party and our next Holiday Ball meeting.
From: Elise Worthen
Sent: Wednesday, August 05, 2009 2:40 PM
To: Liz Rogers
Subject: Re: Meeting date
Ok, Just checking... :)
I just re-enacted the lady yelling at us for my co-workers... It was a good story.
And my response:
From: Liz Rogers
Date: Wed, 5 Aug 2009 14:40:21 -0500
To: Elise Worthen
Conversation: Meeting date
Subject: RE: Meeting date
I did it for Lindsay the second I walked back in – it’s a GOOD one!
CHICKENANDBROCCOLI! SOMEONECHICKENWITHBROCCOLI!
Her rebuttal:
NONOODLEINDACHOWMEIN!!!!!!!
NONOODLEINDACHOWMEIN!!!!!!!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
ACROSS THE POND
IV and I went to visit Pappy and Beach Grama last night for dinner and to collect one black and white dog, who stayed with the G Units while I was in Belize.
Which meant adventure in the form of FERRY RIDE!
On the ferry you're supposed to shut your car off - I am constantly testing this theory, trying to get away with keeping mine on because, oh, say, I don't want to fry eggs on the car seat with IV and use his feet as spatulas.
It's really f-ing hot.
But. I got totally busted. So I decided it was too hot in the car and we should take it outside on the boat.
I realized that because of my jaded upbrining that involved thousands and thousands of trips across this ferry, it never occured to me to be a tourist with IV - to watch the sea gulls being fed bits of bread, to wave at passing by tug boats, to stare for awhile at the water churned up from the massive ferry engines.
So that's exactly what we did - and IV ate up every second of it. Reaching his hand out to the gulls, watching the kids feed the birds and toss up crumbs to them. He loved it.
Reminder: slow down and think, Liz. This is a time of firsts!
Pappy fried up some delicious fish, Beach G. made tartar sauce, IV played with all the dogs and fed them his water crackers. He made them laugh, smiling and clapping, "droppin' it like it's hot" with Beach G. It was great!
I missed my baby. He is such a part of me, such a piece of my soul - the way he fidgets, the way he watches and notices so many things, the way he is so persnickety - able to turn it on and off at will. It's so...me.
I would choose this path a million times over.
Is it perfect, convenient, easy? No.
But since when I have I ever chosen THAT path?
It's so...me. And I love him.
Both hims.
If you catch my drift.
Which meant adventure in the form of FERRY RIDE!
On the ferry you're supposed to shut your car off - I am constantly testing this theory, trying to get away with keeping mine on because, oh, say, I don't want to fry eggs on the car seat with IV and use his feet as spatulas.
It's really f-ing hot.
But. I got totally busted. So I decided it was too hot in the car and we should take it outside on the boat.
I realized that because of my jaded upbrining that involved thousands and thousands of trips across this ferry, it never occured to me to be a tourist with IV - to watch the sea gulls being fed bits of bread, to wave at passing by tug boats, to stare for awhile at the water churned up from the massive ferry engines.
So that's exactly what we did - and IV ate up every second of it. Reaching his hand out to the gulls, watching the kids feed the birds and toss up crumbs to them. He loved it.
Reminder: slow down and think, Liz. This is a time of firsts!
Pappy fried up some delicious fish, Beach G. made tartar sauce, IV played with all the dogs and fed them his water crackers. He made them laugh, smiling and clapping, "droppin' it like it's hot" with Beach G. It was great!
I missed my baby. He is such a part of me, such a piece of my soul - the way he fidgets, the way he watches and notices so many things, the way he is so persnickety - able to turn it on and off at will. It's so...me.
I would choose this path a million times over.
Is it perfect, convenient, easy? No.
But since when I have I ever chosen THAT path?
It's so...me. And I love him.
Both hims.
If you catch my drift.
Monday, August 3, 2009
THANKS TEDDY
Belize post is coming - but in the meantime:
I ran across an old favorite, at a much needed time:
"Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure...than to rank among the poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a grey twilight that knows not victory nor defeat."
-Theodore Roosevelt
Here's to daring mighty things - anyone care to join me?
I ran across an old favorite, at a much needed time:
"Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure...than to rank among the poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a grey twilight that knows not victory nor defeat."
-Theodore Roosevelt
Here's to daring mighty things - anyone care to join me?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
