Poolside naps.

The countdown is officially on.  Fourteen days until my house is clean school starts.  This also means there are only fourteen days left to swim at the pool.  But after yesterday, that might be okay.  When I took the kids to the pool, a realization that has been lingering on my mind all summer finally stared me right in the face:  the kids don't need me there anymore.  They can swim well.  They can get their own food from concessions.  They are publicly embarrassing enough that I don't have to worry about anybody trying to kidnap them.  And I already knew all of this by the end of last summer, but yesterday, as I entered the pool it occurred to me that they no longer crowd around me in the very instant that my tiptoes touch the water.  In fact, the only time they seem to notice I'm there at all is when they want money. 

There are four crowds of people at this pool and I don't fit in with any of them.  Not even a little.  The 'Pool Moms' sit in the shallow end of the pool and talk amongst each other about...whatever it is that moms talk about (I should know this, I know, but I don't and I won't and I can't).  Then there's this crowd of twentysomething guys that spend the entire time doing high dives and flips off of the diving board.  I'd hate to one-up them with my graceful backflops.  Third, there's the teenagers that sneak behind trees and make out with each other.  And the fourth group (and largest) is the kids.  As much as I try to convince them that I'm just a really tall kid (okay, tall, not really tall), it's not working out.  So I sit all by myself and look as sad as I possibly can.  Once, a thoughtful-looking little boy seemed to notice me and my sadness and swam over to me.  Just as I thought he was going to say something kind, he splashed me right in the face and laughed.  I looked around for his parents but nobody seemed to be paying attention so I called him a brat and splashed him back.  If my kids ever did that to somebody, I would hope they'd receive the same treatment.  I'm serious.

The pool's not all bad.  The thing that keeps me going day after day is that it gives me hours of peace.  I can read a book or...usually what actually happens is it looks like I'm reading a book and I'm really just spacing off or I might be asleep.  You just can never tell when I'm wearing dark sunglasses.  Also, I have become wise to this pool and it makes me feel proud of myself.  I know that if you sit in certain lounge chairs, you will be attacked by ants.  Or if you sit too near the diving board, you become 'cannon ball target' and each child that jumps off of the board has only one goal: to soak you with water.  And this is not good at all when you've fallen asleep while pretending to read.  Book + water = peaceful day in ruins.

In conclusion, I will be spending the next fourteen days pretending to read and being ignored by my children.  I will miss this someday, I'm certain.

Laughter really IS contagious.

I woke up to find that we're out of milk and the dishes need washed, which can only mean one thing:  It's Monday again.  To make matters worse, it's raining.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the rain and we desperately need it right now, but for my own selfish purposes, I wish it had held off just one more hour so that I could run outside.  Now, I'll spend my lunch half-hour on the treadmill.  And while I'm running and sweating and maybe crying a little, Mae will be sitting on the floor right next to me, trying to get me to spew the great mysteries of the world to her.  She has never asked me why the sky is blue.  She's not simple like that.  She has, however, asked me why there is a sky at all and if there wasn't, would we all be flat and lay on the ground all day?  And if we did, would there be such things as jump ropes?  And if there weren't, would the guy that invented them be poor?  And if he was, how would he buy groceries?  And...and...and...and the and's never end.

The kids went to a wedding with their wonderful grandparents this weekend.  What did Kenny and I do while they were gone?  We went swimming and ate ice cream.  I don't plan to ever tell the kids about it.  They would be horrified to know that we had fun without them.  They did seem quite alarmed when they returned home Sunday to find that the house is not sparkling clean.  We were immediately questioned about our weekend whereabouts. 

We saw the Counting Crows on Saturday night.  I do so love them, despite how my brother makes fun of me for it.  Unfortunately, I had the most uncomfortable seat in the house.  I won't say why because I don't want to offend anybody, but my claustrophobia kicked in immediately.  Kenny must have read it in my eyes because he looked at me, said, "Go for a walk?" and away we went, never to return to our seats again.  We found a nice spot on the grass and it really was the perfect night for an outdoor show.  At one point in the night, a guy with a bandana wrapped around his head, who was about the same height as me, came up to me and put his face right in front of my face.  I have no idea who he was but he seemed to know me.  We fist-bumped and he seemed satisfied.  Stuff like this happens to me more often than I know what to do with, and I can only assume that he's a friend of my sister's and thought I was her.  Kenny gets so upset when I don't correct people who call me my sister's name, but it happens so very often and it's really a lot of explaining and just results in them feeling embarrassed.  So much easier to just say, "Hi" and "Sure, I'll call you tomorrow." 

And then came Sunday.  My brother's thirtysomethingth birthday.  Family time is my most favorite time.  There's nothing like being surrounded by people who have to love you no matter what you do or say.  And just as with every family event, as we sat around the table eating dinner, somebody said something that wasn't even that funny.  I mean it was funny, but the kind of funny that would usually result in a simple "ha" and be done with.  But not with us, especially with my mom in attendance.  Somebody laughs a little, then makes the mistake of making eye contact with somebody else who is also slightly laughing.  And then it happens.  Laugher A can't help but laugh at Laugher B's laughter, which then sets off Laugher's C and D.  And then everybody's laughing because, well, everybody's laughing.  And at some point, somebody new will come along, completely oblivious to what's going on, and they'll say something like, "Amanda, are you CRYING?" and then it starts all over until everybody's crying.  After many large gasps for air, we finally come to a halt with an overwhelming feeling that it is actually impossible to laugh anymore.  And then we eat in silence for about one minute, until somebody says something that's not very funny again.  By the time I leave any family event, I'm exhausted and I hiccup laughter the entire way home, drunk on happy.

So even though it's Monday and the weekend is over, I had more than my share of weekend goodness and I'm confident that it will help me through this long work week. 

And the forecast remains steady...

Outdoors, it is still unbearably hot and dry.

There was a brawl in my flower garden last night.  When the flowers saw me walking toward them with the hose, punches were thrown and some flowers even began choking each other.  I tried to calmly explain that there was enough water for all of them, but I was not to be heard amongst all of the chaos.  I’m not kidding.  I almost joined the fight, but then remembered that I could just spray my mouth with the hose.  

The crack in front of the house is now becoming a moat.  I always wanted a moat. 

Winter has been on my mind a lot lately (I can’t figure why).  It sort of surpassed us last year, so my need for it is doubled.  I’m longing so much for it that my most recent purchases have been: three sweaters and a pair of ice skates.  The ice skates were an impulse purchase because my Dad and I were reminiscing about “back in the day” when we used to go ice skating often.  I had a pair of white skates when I was little and I so loved them.  So, when Kenny and I went to a flea market and I saw a similar pair in my size, there was no resistance to be found in me.  It is perfectly safe to assume that I will now be sitting on the bench next to the pond by mid-October, both eyes on the water, just waiting for it to freeze so I can risk my very life on two metal blades.  Well, if there’s any water left by then.

Due to the heat, the playhouse-building has been put on hold.  It’s almost too hot to even go swimming.  The public pool water is warm.  While floating around with the sun beating down, one finds themselves thirsty while in a literal pool of water.  I can’t imagine what will happen when school starts back up and the pools are drained.  The average person already has heightened hate issues due to the weather and when we force our children to endure eight-hour days in a barely air conditioned building, the world might very well go mad.  Angry children are the main cause of angry parents and angry parents lead to angry grandparents and from there, the anger finds a way to reach out and touch everybody, non-kids and non-parents and non-grandparents alike.  Then all of these angry people walk around looking mad and blaming everything on the heat.  But eventually, anger gets old and fades.  Pretty soon we’ll all be numb.  Just walking around in a haze, not knowing whether we’re coming or going.  Not changing our clothes.  Not bathing ourselves.  Like zombies.  Hey, maybe the predicted Zombie Apocalypse IS true.  Except it should have been named the Excessive Heat Apocalypse. 

Embarrassing myself is just one of my many talents.

The garbage men (there are two of them) showed up this morning while I was running.  In my jammies.  Through my back yard.  They looked quite concerned.  Oddly enough, waving my arms in the air and yelling, "I'M JUST RUNNING!!!" didn't change their facial expressions even a little.  I was too winded to walk all the way over to them and explain myself (and I figured it wouldn't help me at this point anyway) so I just disappeared into the woods. 

Note to self:  Run earlier on Tuesdays.

Water to Wine; Grapes to Blueberries

Kyler is devastated this morning, after learning that he has been eating grape jelly this whole time.  And I am to blame.  I asked if he wanted grape jelly or strawberry jelly on his toast.  He replied with, "Blueberry, like usual."  I told him we don't have blueberry.  I was a little confused because as far as I know, he's never had blueberry jelly in his life. 

He peered into the fridge, pointed at the grape jelly and said, "It's right there."  This is when I realized that he thought the grape jelly was blueberry and I foolishly blurted out, "No, that's grape.  Did you think it was blueberry this entire time?"  And at that exact moment, life changed for him.  His bottom lip quivered slightly as he said, "But I don't like grapes..."

I suppose you don't read the food labels when you already know what it is you're eating.  And I will admit that my morning obliviousness has been fully passed on to my children.  If our house was engulfed in flames or the roof blew off in the night, we would be rubbing our eyes and stretching our arms while walking around in our morning daze, completely unaware.  So Kyler simply can't be blamed for not noticing one tiny word on one tiny jar while in this state of morning-mind.

He still ate his morning toast, but the life in his eyes is gone.  If blueberry can change to grape in just one instant, think what a mess this world could be by the end of the day.

Zoobly Zoo.

We drive past Earl May Garden Center and the store sign says 'Red Dot Sale.'  Mae looks quite seriously at me and says, "Mom, why would anybody want to buy red dots?"  I couldn't help but picture a store filled with people browsing assorted sizes of red dots.  Two women in the far corner are fighting over a certain red dot that they've both had their eyes on for months.  As I laugh to myself at this whole scenario, I catch Mae giving me her most evil staredown.  It's as if she can see my thoughts and knows that I am mocking something she said, but she's so funny all the time and there's nothing she or I can do about that.  Except laugh.  But that just gets me in trouble.  Red dots.  Who ever thought of such a thing?

We finally made it to the ZOO yesterday!!!

I got to see a real-live kinkajou.  It was a happy moment, except in the back of my mind, I just kept wondering why I didn't think to bring a glass-cutter with me.  My purse is the perfect size to smuggle a kinkajou home in; just no way to get my hands on the cuddly little guy.  Next time.  I did, however, meet the worlds' funniest meerkat.  This little guy was staring directly at the wall in a complete daze for a very long time.  In one strange moment, he snapped out of it and looked at me, then shrugged his shoulders and went right back into his daze.  It was as if we were conjoined at the soul.  Here he is:

        
The kids talked me into riding the Skyfari, which is basically a ski lift that takes you over the zoo and back.  Pretty cool, except I'm terrified of heights.  The kids were so sweet and helpful by first telling me, "Don't worry Mom, if we fall right now, we'll just land in water."  And then a few seconds later..."Don't worry Mom, if we fall right now, we'll just  land on the hard cement.  And DIE."  I got them back by pretending that my flip flop fell off.  This is us on the Skyfari ride (me, fearful and Mae trying to calm me down).

After that, we visited the Gorillas.  There was an exhibit of different skeletons.  Gorillas, orangutans, humans, etc.  Oddly enough, there was one skeleton that exactly fit Kyler's bone structure.

We walked in the hot, hot, HOT weather for nearly six hours.  Mae found a way to keep cool, as usual.

We finally ended the trip by touring the Lied Jungle, then taking a train ride.  We got to see two rhinos fighting, which is really not much different than watching Kyler and Mae fight but at least I wasn't expected to jump in the middle of it.

We'll mark this trip as good.

Vacation, Day 4

Today, I took a few moments to look around the house at all of the stuff I'd put off "until vacation" that still isn't done.  Then, I decided that we should swim again today because that would be far more productive. 

The car was fixed with a repair bill totaling $0.00, which put me in a most delightful mood, until my neighbor lady ran out in front of my car while I was driving to tell me that I drive too fast.  If you think I drive too fast, is it really a good idea to jump out in front of me while I'm driving?  She then explained how she tried to tell me before but I was driving so fast that she couldn't catch up to me.  No, I mean it.  She really said that.  Lady, you could walk about fifty feet and be on my front porch.  When I wake up in the morning and there are random dogs and/or horses in my yard, I simply put a note on her car window so as not to disturb her from sleep.  I even draw a smiley face on it.  I don't go chasing after the dogs and/or horses.  That would be...dare I say it?  Stupid.  Heck, if she can't figure out how to walk to my front door or look up my name in the phone book, there's no way she'll ever find this blog.  And from here on out, there will be NO smiley faces on my notes.  Just a simple, "Get your f'n horse out of my yard" is all.

I hate feeling negative.  This is not me.  Is it okay that this upsets me?  I am typically a good neighbor; quiet and helpful, but the only time any of my neighbors ever talk to me is to tell me they don't like something we do or something we don't do or, mainly, to talk crap about the other neighbors.  Can't we all just pretend we don't see each other?  I'm fine with looking the other way at the grocery store but it doesn't work if I'm the only one looking the other way and you're still talking to me. 

Okay, hopefully that's the last I'll ever blog about the neighbor sitchy-ation.  I'm a good person who might carry a tiny bit of lead in my left shoe.  End of the world?  Probably not.  End of this blog?  I say yes.

Vacation, Day 3

Laying on your back on a merry-go-round and watching the trees spin, as I did just this morning, really puts all things into perspective.  And by that, I mean the fact that nothing really matters.  I mean in the end.  Today, it matters that my kids are happy and healthy, but in one hundred years, nobody will care.  But while having this epiphany on the merry-go-round, it didn't seem nearly as depressing as I'm making it sound here.  It was actually breathtaking and awe-inspiring.  Maybe I slid without realizing and too much blood rushed into my head. 

The merry-go-round was really the highlight of my day.  I also took the kids swimming and that was fun, but after that the day broke into more of a downward spiral, as follows:

Car needs further repairs immediately.
Dogs were not properly kenneled.
Dogs ate couch.
Dogs opened cat litter box and evenly distributed cat feces throughout laundry room.
Dogs ate everything in reach in Mae's room.
Dogs dragged bathroom trash all over bathroom floor.
Dogs dragged kitchen trash all over kitchen and living room floors.

(Mae was not targeted; the dogs can open her door via headbutting with great force).

The dogs have now been properly kenneled.  Remember a few blogs ago, where I said how nice it is that my dogs can frolic freely throughout the house since I work from home?  Yeah, that is nice.  But this is what happens if I'm gone for FOUR hours, all because I work from home and they are spoiled rotten.  On a regular day, they spend little to no time in their kennels or without human companionship.  If I walk out the front door to take the trash to the bin, I can hear them whining the entire time. 

Now that I put it in writing, this seems all too familiar.  This is exactly what happened with our kids.  I worked from home; they became too attached to me.  But the great thing about kids is that they get older and make friends and then decide that parents are boring.  Dogs aren't like that.  They always like people. 

I suppose I'll just have to outlive them.  At some point, they will become 'old dogs' and not have nearly as much energy.  In the meantime, let's just hope that they don't start wrapping themselves around my ankles when they see me preparing to leave, then start crying and begging me not to go. 

Vacation, Day 2

Today was good, but not giraffe-seeing good or miniature train-riding good.  NO zoo.  Hmphh.  Apparently, the kids have a medical condition known as 'patience'.  Neither Kenny nor I have this disease and we had never even heard of it until we had children.  We want what we want when we want it (which is most likely NOW).  But the kids said no, not today.  They want to save the zoo for later in the week.  I took some calming down and consoling. 

They took me to Lost In Fun instead and I actually DID get lost in fun.  I now want my own foam pit.  The kids dug themselves a giant hole and crouched down inside of it, then the foam-cube war was ON.  I didn't have a cool bandanna or any war paint on, but I totally kicked their butts anyway.  At one point, I found actual tears streaming down my face from laughing so hard after hitting not one, but BOTH kids simultaneously in the face with a cube.  Don't worry, it doesn't hurt.  It just makes a person look ridiculous and confused for a couple of seconds.

After that, we got to see my Mama at her office.  Highlight of Mama visit: as we were leaving and she was locking up, my phone rang.  The caller ID said, 'Mama', so I looked at my Mom and asked if she was calling me.  She gave me a confused look and then looked at the phone in her hand and said, "Only on accident."  Ha!!  She, like Kenny, is absolutely hilarious while simply trying to make it through her daily routine.

We ended the day with ice cream because that's always a good way to end any day.  Mae decided that Kyler's  mini-blizzard had more ice cream in it than hers.  I told her that they looked the same to me.  According to Mae, Kyler had such a tiny amount more than her that it could not be seen by the naked eye, but she has microscopic eyes, you know.  And directly following that, she said, "Mom, I'm four feet one now."  Oh...kay?

Tomorrow begins Kyler's first day of football camp.  And there's a heat advisory.  I will be standing on the sidelines praying to the football gods that my son doesn't pass out, fully equipped with bottled electrolytes in both hands and an ambulance on standby.

Vacation, Day 1

This day ultimately sucks, but only on a scale of okay to great, okay being the most painful.  What I'm trying to say is that this day only sucks compared to most of my days.  Especially since we were supposed to be visiting the zoo today.  Instead, the Jeep is in the shop and we are NOT at the zoo.  The mechanic has figured out the problem (yay!) and it is expensive (boo!).  It is actually already fixed, but Kenny is at work and I don't feel like walking thirteen miles with two kids in hundred-degree weather, so it will just have to wait until tomorrow morning.  THEN the zoo!  Yaaay!!

After nearly ten years of marriage, I decided today that I would do something nice for Kenny without him asking (yes, this is the first time).  He has recently been staring for long periods of time at the massive weeds growing around our house, sheds and gardens with a certain ache in his eyes. 

I pulled the drop cords out of the closet and headed outside to retrieve the weedeater.  Is it weedeater or weed eater?  We'll go with weedeater.  Anyway, about five weeds in, I noticed that the eater was no longer cutting.  I shut it off and flipped it over to pull out the line.  But there was no line.  All gone.  Shiiiiit. 

Defeated. 

I headed back toward the house with my head hung low, but then **idea!!** I remembered the handheld weed-cutting thing.  I'm sure it has a name but I know not what it is.  I shifted from the house toward the shed and found it in record time. 

Bent over in an uncomfortable position, I worked my way around the shed, then the garden, then the other shed, then the other garden, then the house.  It took over an hour and I am not lying when I say that I am still, at this very moment, stuck in that hunched-over position.  Now I know what happened to Lurch on The Addams Family.

As I had made  my way around the entire house, I entered the house through the front door.  On the built-in bench on our front porch, something  blue caught my eye.  LINE for the weedeater.  And once I thought about it, I did find the weedeater sitting right next to that very bench.  Curse my blindness! 

Aw, who cares?  I get to go to the ZOO tomorrow!!! 

Clean as clean can be.

My loving sister took my kids yesterday afternoon and returned them this afternoon.  Kenny and I tried to go on a date but he was so embarrassing that I had to cut it short.  No, I'm kidding.  We had a ton of fun but decided that going out to a bar after dinner is no longer fun since we don't live in walking distance.  And the next movie wasn't set to start for over an hour.  So, we went grocery shopping and bought massive amounts of alcohol with full intentions of drinking a LOT when we got home.  One drink in, we both passed out.  We are so awesome that it hurts sometimes.

This morning, I had a great idea.  I would clean BOTH of the kids' rooms to surprise them.  I figured since Mae's room looked the worst, I'd start there.  Two hours later, her room was spotless.  I took a short lunch break, a couple deep breaths, then launched myself into Kyler's room.  Holy Jesus.  My son is disgusting.  There was an expired...smoothie?...I think....on the shelf next to his bed.  There was a skull from an unidentified animal (cat?) on his floor (when questioned about this, he said he found it in the woods...ew!) and there was a (hold your breath for this one) DEAD frog under his desk!!  This one may actually not have been his fault because as it turns out, our house seems to be the breeding grounds for tree frogs.  I found a dead one under the piano bench a couple of weeks ago.  Still, gross.

Both kids are happy about the results of my day-long cleaning.  Mae is most excited that you can see her closet floor.  Kyler is forever content now that his books are organized.  And me, well, I'm exhausted.  Cleaning for hours is tough stuff, especially when you have to gasp and/or scream over something you've uncovered about every fifteen minutes.  Today's events have traumatized me enough to cover the next few months.  I think this is why as we get older, we are expected to clean up after ourselves.  We are not astonished in the slightest at our own frightening habits, but for someone else to happen upon them?  Terrifying for both parties. 

Country Mouse, City Mouse

The assignment seemed simple:  drive to Omaha and pick up our Color Run packets to avoid having to get up way too early on Saturday morning to stand in a long line.  And what then?  Where do you put your packet while you're running?  Carry it with or make the long trek back to the car? No, thanks.

I picked Adrienne up just after 5pm and we were both excited about the fun road trip ahead of us.  Because usually, road trips are just that, especially with us. 

The drive to the edge of Omaha was fine.  Soon enough, though, we found ourselves driving in the wrong direction in this foreign city.  People were speeding by (seriously, SPEEDING) and swerving in and out of traffic.  In my opinion, Omaha has the craziest of drivers.  I found myself holding my breath as we exited to turn around.  I found it amusing (not at the time, of course) how Adrienne and I would scream at all the same things.  And it wasn't always ourselves that we found in danger; we'd scream when two cars a mile ahead of us would nearly collide.  Kyler's head was folded to the side and drool was running down his face, as he was fast asleep nearly the entire time.  Mae was playing games on the DS, paying little to no attention to our screaming, oh-my-godding and random curse words.  It's as if she thought we were dramatic or something. 

After not finding Peak Performance, stopping and chatting with the nice folks at Dick Blick, then finding out that there are two North 78th streets (why?!), we completed our task.  We were able to take a few deep breaths before trying to find our way home.  Neither of us were excited about it, but it was oddly easy to get out of Omaha.  Getting into it was like jumping into a pit of hungry gators.  Getting out of it was like leaving the family gathering after a Thanksgiving feast.  Omaha waved us goodbye, gave us great big hugs and told us to have a safe trip.

So now I find myself in quite a bind.  We must drive once more to Omaha tomorrow for the Color Run and there are thousands of people expected to be there.  Do I displace more vertebrate in my neck and back while enduring another stressful drive, or do I let Kenny take over?  Both options horrify me.

Cracked

This drought we're in is becoming most unpleasant.  There is a crack in front of our house that is so large that I can't help but trip over it or get my toes caught in it every single time I am forced to cross it.  And I know it's there, but it's out to get me.  One time, with grocery bags in tote, I even dared to jump over the crack just to prove, once and for all, that it was possible to cross over said crack with dignity.  You know the ending.  Groceries all over the ground, me crawling around to pick them up with my bruised pride, two kids doubled over with laughter in the background. 

But after last night, I'm beginning to think it's not the crack at all.  It might be me.  Might.

The kids and I were playing tag in the house and I was the dreaded 'it'.  Trailing close on Mae's heels, she ran through the laundry room and jumped over the overturned laundry basket with much grace and stealth.  The same laundry basket that I ran directly into at full speed, causing a very loud crash.  The end result was a bloody toe and black/blue shin.  I was at least smart enough to take advantage of the situation.  Rolling around on the floor, I fake-cried.  A very worried little Mae came over to console my pain and as she neared, I tapped her arm, said, "You're it", and tried to race away.  The racing away part didn't work so well with my new injury so I ended up pouting and quitting and calling the world and everything in it unfair.

I think I should invest in a mobility cane.  At least when I run into things or fall down, people will feel sorry for me because they'll think I'm blind, which seems better than feeling sorry for me because I'm...what's the word for it?...oh, yeah...ME.

Color me rad...where did I put my robe?

I'm not sure if it's the weather or my age, but I find myself becoming increasingly oblivious to many things lately.  I suppose I'll just blame it on the color orange.  I can do that now that I'm senile. 

I hardly notice when I'm splashed with freezing water at the pool.  I don't bat an eyelash when the cat scratches its sharp claws down my arm.  And red stoplights.  I just can't seem to notice those and you wouldn't believe how necessary they are.  I also find myself completely unwilling to write a simple story and stay on one subject.

I find it odd when people walk with their arms to their sides and never swing them.

See what I mean?  Off subject.  But isn't it weird?  I mean people with motionless arms?  And I find myself staring at them, wondering Why do you want to make yourself so awkward?  Maybe it's a personality thing.  I can't be sure.  I only lean toward that idea because I don't have one single friend who walks that way.  Therefore, all motionles-arm walkers have one thing in common:  I'm not friends with them.  And if I'm not friends with them, it's probably because of their personality.  I would never not talk to somebody because of they way they walk.  Would I?  No, no I'm pretty sure I wouldn't.  Wouldn't not, that is.  I don't judge before I get to know somebody.  Every person that I don't know at this exact moment has the same opportunity to be my friend as every other person that I don't know.  Equality is awesome that way.

Now, to tie this all together and try to make some sort of sense of this mess I've created...I was splashed with freezing water today AND the cat scratched three nice big lines down my arm AND I didn't quite, but I nearly ran a red light.  Then, a guy walked by me at the pool with his arms glued to his sides and I pondered it for way, way too long.  So long that they called Pool Check and that's when I finally snapped out of it and realized I'd missed the entire hour of swimming.  How must that look?  Me, sitting poolside with three big scratches up my arm and staring off into space for nearly an entire hour while being splashed by random cannon-ballers and not even noticing. 

Stupid color orange. 

If you build it, they will...probably fall off of it and hurt themselves.

We will go ahead and call the weekend a success.  Kenny started building a playhouse for the kids that we've been talking about building for years.  It will be very redneck (aka ugly and fun).  I can't wait.

Reasons for success rating:

-Kenny "let" me use two different power tools and I still have both of my arms.  In fact, all of the members of our household have intact every limb.  Even the animals. 

-The playhouse frame fell on Kenny and he now has a swollen elbow.  This rates successful because he only got one injury and it didn't even land us in the emergency room.

-Playhouse is located on the edge of our land.  This means that with the aid of binoculars, I can watch for deer.  I can also watch for my neighbor watching for deer and when he has a perfect shot, I can jump and yell to scare it away.  (Don't worry, my hunter friends, this is a joke.  I know that my neighbor is crazy enough to shoot me on the spot for pulling a stunt like this.)

-Kyler and Mae have each learned how to properly use a hammer.  And not on each other.

So, a good weekend it was.  I have yet to convince Kenny of a trampoline exit (in which you would jump from the top tier of the playhouse onto a next-door trampoline as an exit route), but I am consistent in my begging.  I also have secret plans to install a fireman's pole and a zip line but this will have to be done while Kenny is sleeping.  Then, I can totally act like it wasn't me.  An act of God; that's what we'll call it.  God wants us to live dangerously in the name of excitement and fun. 

I will post a picture of our ghetto creation when it is completely birthed.

Week NINE.

Today began week 9 of C25K.  The final week.  No, this does not mean I will finally quit running or finally quit complaining about it all the time.  I just won't have a piece of paper telling me exactly what to do anymore. 

I'm not in this for the weight loss, but I can't help but notice that my love handles have been slowly parting ways with me.  I suppose this is good, but I'm curious and a little worried about how I will keep warm this winter. 

Since I don't have a Before picture to scar your eyes with, I took the liberty of airbrushing a current photo to reinstate the previous me (It's a Before AND After picture).  I know...I'm almost embarrassed at what an amazing job I did with the airbrushing.  America's Got Talent, here I come.

So, if you're concerned about your purple love handles and blue saddlebags, running is free and easy.  Go do it.

In other news, the weather has gone from terrible to unbearable.  We haven't even made it to the pool lately because we don't want to leave the house to get to the pool.  We have two black vehicles.  Why do we have two black vehicles?  Because we love to hear the sound of our skin sizzling every time we jump onto the seats without paying attention (which is every time).  But I might brave it today.

Yesterday, the boy-dog tracked pink footprints throughout the kitchen.  The kids left the paint out after painting birdhouses.  I know it was Artie because he has pink feet.  As he lay snoozing in the sun, right next to the back door, I was slaving away on my hands and knees with a scrubby brush, making sure to take up every last inch of paint.  I could see that he was laying on a footprint so I told him to move.  He stared at me.  I told him in a louder voice to move and he stared at me and blinked.  So I got up and opened the sliding glass door and he was gone in a flash.  Back to the floor, back to scrubbing, what is that noise?  I look up and Artie's RIGHT outside of the back door, relieving himself onto the glass.  So when I finally got done with the floor-scrubbing, I got to move on to window-cleaning. 

And that's all I have for today.  I better go do something with my day so I'll have something new to write about!

Like Pet Cemetary...except Plant Cemetary.

Last fall, I was happily strolling through the garden center at Wal Mart and choosing clearance items for next year's (which is now this year's) gardening fun.  Kyler came up to me and showed me his great deal.  It was a potted dead stick.  He held it up proudly and said, "I want THIS.  It's only two dollars!"  I asked what it was supposed to be and he said, "A blackberry bush," though I had much trouble believing that.  I told him that yes, he could have a blackberry bush, but only if he chose one that was alive.  His face dropped and he said, "This is the last one."  Not being my argumentative child, he quickly changed into his I've-got-a-great-idea face and said, "I'll buy it with my own money."


It was slightly painful watching Kyler shell out his own hard-earned dollars for a dead stick, but I am not one to intervene with life's lessons and my theory is that the younger you learn them, the better. 


By the time we got home, I'd already forgotten  about the sad purchase.  Kyler, however, went immediately into the shed and pulled out a shovel.  He began digging in the middle of the yard.  I couldn't just watch and do nothing so I helped him plant the stick.  As nicely as I could, I tried to brace him for the future, telling him that this bush would probably not ever bloom and by no fault of his own.  Always the optimist, he told me that he would share his blackberries with me.

 Well, it's next year and this is what the dead stick looked like approximately two hours ago:

Apparently, it flourished.  And in the thick of the summer, while our land is cracking apart and everything seems to be wilting away (except the weeds, of course), this blackberry bush continues to grow up and out, reaching for the sky and stretching out as if it wants to hug me.  Well, probably not me, but maybe Kyler.  And thank goodness he's not the I-told-you-so type; there is obviously no need for that.  I write this while hanging my head in shame.  Look what might not have been because of me!  To show my sympathy for ever doubting Kyler's magical green thumb, I planted an entire garden around the miracle bush. 

And you can't see, but about ten feet away from the blackberry bush, Kyler planted another stick that has now taken root and grown beautiful red leaves, showing us that it is truly not a stick after all, but rather a mighty red oak tree named Andrew.

What will he plant next?  Well, he's been saving his watermelon seeds so watch out.  Good thing we're a very watermelon-friendly family because he has a whole bag full of seeds saved by now.  After witnessing him turning sticks into trees, I'm expecting more than just a few watermelons.  Perhaps a watermelon house will grow.  Or a watermelon sky will appear and we will have watermelon rain and in the winter, enjoy watermelon snow.  I may be getting ahead of myself, but I'm just giving you the head's up.  Don't say you weren't properly forewarned.

Alone will be something you'll be quite a lot? Dr. Seuss lied.

I spent the hours of 1pm to midnight all by myself yesterday.  A rarity in the finest form, so I feel the need to write it down.  Moments like these must be tracked and logged carefully.  I honestly don't remember the last time this happened.  'Alone' is something that has not played a big role in my vocabulary in...actually, this entire lifetime thus far.  And I'm okay with that.  I know how lucky that makes me.  But I find that I scare myself when it's just me and me. 

The exact instant that the house is cleared of all other beings, 'what to do' shoots at me from every angle.  And every room I walk into, something needs to be done that I never noticed when I was people'd.  People'd = the opposite of alone.  So much to clean and do and see and watch and listen to and...

I decided I should go outside instead because there was way too much to do indoors.  As I exited the front doorway, the heat hit me and I instinctively reversed back into the house and shut the door, but that triggered something that I was supposed to do. The Do Life 5K.  No way was I going to run in the hot, heated, too-hot, blistering heat.  Feeling guilty and in need of a diversion, I hopped onto the treadmill and Did Life for the next three miles. 

After that, I showered the sweat off and stayed in my bedroom, where it was mostly clean and I didn't feel the overwhelming need to clean and cook and wash and organize.  I opened up the book that I've been reading for the past forever and read a good portion of it before falling asleep somewhere between the hours of 7 and 8pm.  And somewhere in that reading, Kenny called and I told him how I was holed up in the bedroom because so many things were calling to me to fix them and clean them and do everything at once so I couldn't go "out there", as if it were a battle field.  He thought it was funny.  I thought it was terrifying.  Seriously, I can't be alone for a few hours?  How do I plan to die?  You have to do that alone, you know. 

My conclusion is that I'm just not old enough to be left alone yet.  There have always been parents and siblings and  friends and kids and other family around at all hours of all days.  They have always been there to bounce ideas off of my thoughts and thoughts off of my ideas.  Without them there, all of these thoughts and ideas just stagger in the air and taunt me.  I cannot amuse myself like other people can.  How is it that I'm an introvert, yet I thrive on people?  It's because my people are not dull.  One of my friends or family members give off enough livelihood to count for at least three regular people and I'm not making that up.  So, I don't need an entire group of people.  Two of my friends is like having a party.  Get six of them together and there is so much going on that I sometimes feel the need to videotape it just so I can sort it out later, when I'm less alone.

Unless I can have another brain implanted into an enlargened head (or two more brains would be even better) to keep myself company, it looks as if I still need an amandasitter.  Lucky for me, it's Independence Day, also known as my Mama's birthday.  This means I get the goodness and hilarity of a great big portion of my family all at once and for many hours.  Just what I need after yesterday's reality check.

A snapshot of some of my people.