Rule #1: There are no coincidences in this universe

Avatars, or spiritual giants, are known to reincarnate throughout the millenniums.
I believe you may have stumbled across a universal truth:
He is actually the Yodi Lama.

I love you

...now riddle me this batman, is it any coincidence that His Holiness, the Dalai Lama sounds oddly similar to Yoda?

You're a Boob

I miss you. I miss us. I miss Florida right about now actually....and Winter hasn't even started! Oy! Actually it hasn't been that bad so far, not for us this year, surprisingly. The West and the South of us have been getting it more. But, I hate being cold in my own home and given the fact that this place is like a friggin' mansion compared to my last place, and as insulated as an anorexic, I'm too scared to turn the heat up too high in fear of not being able to afford the cost! If and when I'm able to find the time to call around for insulating cost I will most definately do so and get 'er done. I'll put it all on credit if I have to. It'll be worth it and save me loads of cash in the long run.
Tonight is the Soda Fountain Christmas party. I've bought a dress and some good liquid eyeliner. Let's see what I can pull off. I'll post pix later if i get any. i have to be to work in 20 min and I haven't brushed my teeth yet. I did at least take a shower and get dressed though...
My mother called this morning. I didn't want to talk. I fained interest for 15 min and then said I had to go, which technically I did, but if it were anyone else I know I would have just gotten ready while talking.
I hope you had a great time yesterday, graduating WITH HONORS!!!! I feel like a shitty friend. I'm honestly heartbroken that I didn't get to go, and extremely disappointed in myself for not paying more attention to the fact that you were graduating and that i didn't make plans to make sure I could be there for it. I'm sorry. I know you'll say I'm being silly, but just accept my apology.
I miss you more than you know.
xoxoxo

Speaking frankly

This is the dress I would love to wear to your wedding, but can't because you're getting married 5,000 miles away. And instead of buying myself new boobs to look great in a dress like this, I'm buying plane tickets. So if you ever wonder how much I love you, remember this:

I love you more than a pair of tits.

Happy Terky Day! I Miss You!

Just go with it

I love sleeping in. Even if "sleeping in" means being prematurely awakened by your four year old who shoves her face in yours and whispers loudly, "Mommy - do I have crap in my nostrils?"
I didn't have the presence of mind to say anything other than mumble, "Yes. They're called boogers."
She thought about this. "Oh," she replied. "Can I pick them?"
Knowing that when it comes to nose picking, that attempt to teach  my daughter the finer art of discretion has miserably failed, I merely scrunched up my face in disgust at her request.
Either reading facial expressions is within her ability and she wanted to make me happy or she was just promising me she wouldn't eat them when she replied, "I'll go get a tissue."

I never found out which it was.

Feeling a little Chin-tastic!

The holidays are quickly approaching. I thought it would be good for us to watch some video so we could get into the holiday spirit!







And for those of who enjoy a more traditional approach to Christmas, here's a little Santa Baby for ya...




And if you're more of a Pearl Jam fa, that's okay too. Here's a little Eddie Vedder twist on Christmas...

The Mind-Hair Connection

If you can't tell, I've been restless lately.
The kind of restless that makes me spend inordinate amounts of my time amusing myself and letting my hair go wild in an effort to offend as many people as possible. This is ironic because the person I offend most by doing this is myself, as I can't stand the feeling of wearing what feels like a blanket of wild, curly sheep hair hanging in my face. I have found that when I wear my hair down I only manage to procure the effect of looking homeless-ly unkempt, channeling a '90's version of Nicole Kidman's hair, looking not even nominally attractive as I do it.

Evidence #1

Also, scrunching my nose doesn't help my face any. I see that now.
 
My hair is a continuous source of aggravation in my life. And now that I've brought it  up I find it difficult to stem the flow of complaints it inevitably causes me to deliver. I have forever envied the voluptuous, silky hair you so effortlessly grow on your head. It's so fuss-free as to be sinful: the less you wash it, the better it looks.
Thinking that perhaps the frizz and general unmanageability of my hair was due to all of the unpronounceable ingredients and chemicals placed in shampoos and hair products now a days, I attempted a product-free, "No-Poo" method of hair care which was almost as disastrous as the recent oil spill in the Gulf.

Remember this?

The end result is that I not only feel restless (and crazy), I look it. 
Life is so unfair.

The Art of Negotiation

Allright, I get it.
Neither of you are completely convinced.
Don't worry, there are options people.
Let's not be afraid to talk this out.

A: I will concede that for the prudish and money conscious people out there (ahem), the idea of going to a salon or spa to get a Brazilian wax and have a woman (or man, if you like) carefully scrutinizing your nether regions in order to get your vajazzle design "just right" might seem a bit intrusive and quite expensive.
Not to fret!
They sell do-it-yourself kits:
"Clitter!" - for those sparkly vaginas on a budget, you see.
Now I know what you're saying. "Crystal, that still doesn't solve the glitter spreading everywhere. Glitter is like the herpes of the craft world!"
That  may be. But seriously, who can argue with testimonials that shout from the rooftops, "Thanks Clitter for turning my labia into a YAYbia!" or "Clitter turned my yeast infection into a jewel collection!" 
(I'm not particularly concerned with the caution labels that say: "WARNING: Using Clitter while pregnant may result in sparkle babies." Who wouldn't love a baby that sparkles?! It would be like having tiny little baby vampires running around and sparkling in the sunlight. Cute!)



B. I know you might still have reservations about going "completely bare with a flair", or perhaps your Guy is a bit protective and hesitant to have anyone "working" on you down there.
Understandable.
Which is why I plan on encouraging him to come along!
"Guy," I would say, "I think you need to add some bling bling to your ding ding"...or dong dong - as the case may be.
(I don't know. How would I know? As a writer, you should know I strive for complete accuracy.)
Anyway, it's called Penazzling.

Obviously, I really struggled to find a good example of Penazzling. But you get the idea.
The one picture I did find showed a guy throwing what looked to be like a gang sign over his junk in an effort to block it out, which only emphasized the angry red bumps that were each and every hair follicle screaming, and likely burning, in angry protest. I would like to argue that, likely, he attempted to do it himself as no professional could possible be the cause of such angry red skin.
If necessary, though, to ensure your cooperation, I'll even talk to the salon and see if they can throw in a t-shirt for you.

C. Still not convinced? I will admit I never took into account that you're a European man at heart.
Perhaps you're the type of guy who's horrified to find his woman looking like a hairless chihuahua down there. (I know French women have hairy armpits, but what about the British ladies? I never thought to ask.)

So you don't like the idea of feeling like a child molester in the bedroom.
I get it.
But let's be honest. I am adaptable and over-the-moon creative, and I have a solution for that, too...
I know Jenny is secretly a hippie at-heart. (Has she confessed that to you yet? It took her three years before she'd admit it to me.) And perhaps I need to reconsider my approach.
So you both want to return to a "natural" state of being. I can totally dig that, too.
I hug trees every chance I get.
See?

Negotiation is, after all, about being willing to meet other people's needs without losing sight of your own goals. Luckily, I'm equally willing to embrace your more down-to-earth approach to style without compromising my original vision...

Head band is optional, of course.

Sparkle Party in Your Pants!

David saw a double rainbow at his work last week.
His co-worker next to him started screaming, "What does it mean?!"and David shouted and cried, "It's starting to turn into a triple rainbow!" (If you don't understand why this is funny, click here. Also, if you would like to hear my husband's ring tone, click here.)

The world is all a-glitter, I believe.
Two people in one week have asked me if I bedazzled my phone case.
No, I did not bedazzle my phone case. But if I had, it would have only been to spread joy and happiness into the world. The kind of happiness that only a double rainbow can bring.
And seeing as how I consider it my divine responsibility, as your best friend, to share this sparkly sunshine with you, I have decided that as a special gift to you, I shall throw a special party in England that will simultaneously marry the concept of sparkly happiness and "fresh, new beginnings".
And what could be more fresh or new than shaving off your pubic hair and giving your vajayjay a little sparkle?
Oh, no, you say?
Oh yeeesss.

We're gonna get vajazzled!!

Now, I know what you're thinking. And it doesn't hurt a bit. Although if you plan on having sex anytime soon after, it's not recommended, as the crystals tend to wander. One girl found them in her sheets, her hair, and one eventually made its way into her breakfast cereal bowl. I don't know if this has something to do with the adhesive or if she's just literally having sex in her dishwasher. Either way, they're mobile little critters. 

And if your Guy were to wake up "the morning after" with sparkles all around his mouth, I'm sure we'll all just blame the champagne. Nobody would possibly suspect.

Except me. I would! I would know, and I would definitely tell someone.

So anyway, I'm just telling you now so you have time to do a little research and pick out your design. 

And you know, Jenny, I saw this and thought of you....

(God, I would love to see you squirming right now! Bwahaha!...

Oh, uh, wait. That's not what I meant. Er...)

Posted 10:05am

Now that my mornings are free, having been returned to me as a promise of investment, it seems as if I were getting less done than ever before. It's as if the domesticated areas of my life that have been neglected for so long due to school work have, through my neglect, grown wild and untamable without my attention. Now that I have attention to pay them, they are strangling me in a carnivorous and cannibalistic attempt to be moved to the front of my day, top of my list, and consume my time.
I began to carry a notebook around for two days, documenting every action, errand, and task completed in intervals divisible by five, and five only.

6:30-7:00am - Attempt to get out of bed
7:00-7:40am - Get kids ready for school
7:40-8:15am - Drop kids off at school
8:20-8:40am - Walk Daisy
8:45-8:50am -  Laundry


I thought this was a great idea to hold myself accountable for how I used my time, see where I really spent most of my energy, and look for ways to cut inefficient uses of time (such as blogging) to get more done in a day. That is, until I began noticing that there were 5 minute increments missing throughout my day.
For example, look at the list and tell me what happened between coming home from dropping the kids off at school and leaving to go for a walk? And what was I doing between getting home from walking the dog and starting my laundry? Where do these invisible, undocumented increments of time go; these minutes that seem to be disappearing before they are even spent? This bothered me so much, that the following day I took even more care to document, to the minute, where I was losing my time (or maybe, my mind).
The discrepancy was even more horrendously apparent than I thought.
And I can come to only one very important conclusion: that you'd have to be fucking crazy to document how you spent every minute of your day and that it was in my best interest to stop right. the. fuck now. before I started concerning someone. Including myself. It's bad enough to know David has to deal with me on a day to day basis, which he does so patiently and lovingly, that I couldn't bear the thought of making him think I was even more crazier than he already knows I am.
That being said, it's taken 27 minutes to write this entry.

Groceries, budgets, and lifestyle quandries

Let's be utterly clear about something.
The only appealable quality to saving money is the thrill you feel when you acquire things through spending it.
In no way do I find any measure of satisfaction by seeing money in my bank account.
Don't get me mistaken. Every tax season, we always create a variety of ways the $6,500 return can be made to pay off the most amount of bills. I enjoy paying off debt, (when I had it.)
But on an every day basis, if I had $100 left over in a paycheck with nothing planned for it, you better believe the kids' wardrobe is getting updated, a teflon shedding plate is getting replaced in the kitchen, or the garden is growing with some plants, dirt, and fertilizer.

I'm not a total snob when it comes to spending money; I shop at Walmart to get a better deal, despite the the fact that it is responsible for accelerating the loss of American jobs over-seas, has been convicted of violating over 1,436 child labor laws, and is the number one importer of goods from China, with 70% of everything they sell coming from China. And if I had the choice of buying something on sale or not, of course, I'd love to buy it on sale. Though, to be honest, I know I could be more frugal. I'll purchase an item, even if it's not on sale.


You've been telling me for years that I spend too much on my groceries.
I've been arguing for years that your methods require sacrificing quality; you need to spend money if you want to eat well. (Just look at how expensive it is to eat organically.)
So when I watched the video you sent me about the cheapest family in America, I was only slightly approving of their methods.
Initially, I was downright appalled and indignant when I heard the family of 5 only spent $350 a month on groceries.
"This isn't realistic!" I said, as I stomped my foot.
"What about produce? That doesn't stay good for a month!"
Indeed, the mother could only admit that certain produce stays well for longer period, (items like apples, oranges, cabbage, celery, carrots).
But who only eat bananas, plums, strawberries, zuchini, broccoli, or any other highly perishable (and frequently on my grocery list) produce item once a month?
To me, this raises serious questions about their meal planning.
I also found it mildly distateful that they enthusiastically encourage families to purchase old pieces of meat that are about to be thrown out.
I struggle to come to terms with the fact that I continue to eat meat in the first place.
("If slaughter houses had glass walls, everyone would be a vegetarian"...in truth, becoming a vegetarian is my next big adventure.) So the idea of purchasing rotting flesh that is even more rotted than the rest is slightly repulsing to me.
Cutting coupons, doubling up on meals, and planning-planning-planning are all really useful tools.
But there's something seriously oppressive about clinging to your money so tightly that you're willing to stress over a carton of ricotta cheese determining which brand will allow you to save more pennies.
I'm all for living within a reasonable budget. I'm all for making sacrifices every now and then.
You don't have a family of five, live on a one income budget, and not know what it means to sacrafice.
I have to say that if I were desperate, then I would probably be more receptive and grateful for the message the Economides family is sharing.
But it's a lifestyle that extends far beyond the grocery store, and one that i'm only partially able to embrace.

That being said, I will share with you my latest grocery venture and see what you think about my purchases.

This is the result of one grocery shopping trip that came to the amount of $80.

In it, I have breakfast items: cereal, eggs, and milk.

The eggs will last for three weeks.

The milk, for three days.

3 Lunches:

Pasta caprese salad

Tortillini of some kind

Tortillini of another kind

3 Dinners:

homemade macaroni bake

tilapia with green beans and rice

tacorito/enchilada type dinner

Snacks:

yogurt

stuff for banana bread

cheese sticks

pudding

I will need to return to the store on Monday to buy more food.

The commissary, by far, is the cheapest place to shop.

Walmart is too far away to be convenient, and i don't even know that it would be that much cheaper.

So what say you about my groceries?

Go easy on me.

A little dose of "Shut Up". With love, of course.

While I assume you meant for me to appreciate the fact that Guy and I once again are in unknowning agreement, (which I assure you, I do) this unwittingly gets you in trouble with me because the fact that you were whining about the price of the dress shows me that YOU DISREGARDED EVERYTHING I SAID.

I'll admit I'm no fashion maven when it comes dresses, and lord knows our different tastes and style go together like tea and pepsi, (you can fight me over whether you get to be the "tea" or "pepsi" later), but I do know how to spend money; both the easy way, and the hard way. I also know that you would scrape together two pennies and save the shavings to meld into another penny, if such a thing were possible.
(Please don't try it. It's not.)

And spending $1500 on a dress for this occasion is right on target. (I do have an official source that I will more than happily disclose to you, should you wish me to be less discreet.)

In the meantime, I'd like you to shut up about how much money you're about to spend and be grateful for the fact that neither me nor your man are going to let you buy anything less than you deserve.
Right, Guy?

That's what I thought.

Skewbadee doo

I have so much floating in my head right now. When that happens I tend to feel overwhelmed and panicky, for fear that I might forget something I so desperately want to remember. That's what random pieces of paper start showing up all over the house, lists for this, numbers for that. Only, when they aren't kept in one centralized location, they are useless in their purpose, for they wander illegally.
So my apologies for using this post as a dumping ground.

1. Sophia starts school tomorrow. I'm already wondering what it is I am going to do with the 2 hours and 45 minutes out of my day that are childless and guilt free. I've just filled out and returned a volunteer sheet and made myself available to be a room parent in William's classroom, but I promise I have ulterior motives for that; it is not a random and desperate attempt to refill hours that were so recently freed from bondage. I'll explain in another post.

2. William. He gets a number all his own.

3. School. I have two art classes left until I complete the program: Sept.8th and Sept. 15th. This is great, this is fine, this is grand. Except that any excitement I should be feeling is swallowed up by the "Oh crap oh crap oh crap" monster, which gobbles up my time and leaves me with negative hours in which I need to complete my final art project (an organic mobile on a hand carved stand. Pictures to come). In addition to this I also need to complete some artwork for my art portfolio. Sophia was kind enough to add her own artistic interpretation and final touches to a hand drawn underwater scene that was done in color pencil.
What used to look like this:

...looks like this no longer. I didn't like the color scheme I chose to begin with, and I'm half tempted to throw the drawing away and start again. I just can't summon up enough energy to care whether there are scribble marks on it or not. At least I can be thankful she stayed within the color scheme. My teacher would have definately had a hard time swallowing any deviation from a stardard Tetrade color scheme.
I swear there's something...diffierent...about art majors.

4. SCHOOL, continued...The program has some additional requirements that I have to meet to graduate.
      A. Bible class (already paid for, just need to complete.)
      B. Math (if only I hadn't gotten a D back in Jacksonville! I curse myself for allowing Nana's visit to         
          me. I totally screwed the pooch on this one. CLEP it, maybe? Too late to register. Might have to.  
          Major scariness there :/ )
      C. 1 elective credit: this can be work credit earned while at State Farm. Must gather learning courses
          completed on customer service skills and techniques and other business related topics. Potentially 
          required to write an essay. Eck.
      D. Portfolio essay - 12 page essay reviewing...i don't even know what. Something about the learning we
         did throughout the course of the program. It's due in two weeks. I won't be able to start it for another
          week (until this class ends.) Will that be enough time??
      E. English Concentration Assessment - 9 page learning review about the learning objectives achieved for
          the three english classes we took. I have this half done. This is encouraging, but not enough to motivate
          me to finish. Besides, I'm missing the syllabus with the last three learning objectives I need to write
         about and no one in class can seem to find theirs. I don't blame them. If I had finished, I'd have thrown
         them away pronto, too.
      F. Still need to transfer my 6 credits from Saddleback Community College.
      G. Still owe APU $100 for 3 credits I earned through an Experiential Essay.
      H. Keep in mind I am short on time and in order to walk in December I must complete all this by
           December 6th. That is 13 weeks away. Bless your heart if you think that's enough time. I'm all for 
           thinking optimistically these days.
      I. If you are actually reading all this, you're a better friend than I thought.

5. I want to being writing again. Don't know where to find myself in order to start or how hard it will be to do that and complete everything for school. Time will tell.

6. In the meantime, and in my freetime, I will be playing with this:

               http://arthousecoop.com/projects/sketchbookproject

"Thousands of sketchbooks will be exhibited at galleries and museums as they make their way on tour across the country. After the tour, all sketchbooks will enter into the permanent collection of The Brooklyn Art Library, where they will be barcoded and available for the public to view." I have until January 15th to finish it.

DAvid's home. Gotta go...

Droid Does

One Phone to rule them all,

One Phone to find them,

One Phone to bring them all

and in the darkness bind them.

Pulse Racing Power,

A New Generation of Does...

It's sinfully fast and capable.

Jenny, I think it can clean your house.

Cake or Death?

Ever since I was young, I've had it in my mind that I was going to die young.

Young, as in, I would never get to see my children grow up, go to college, get married.

Young enough that all the world would mourn my death and its tragicness for all the life that was wasted

and buried with me, along with a lock of my daughter's hair and my son's favorite stuffed animal.

Death would grow quiet and content inside me, a sneaking, painful disease that doctor's would only wring their hands over and look at each other in quiet, stealing glances, avoiding my eyes.

I resolved that if this should be the case, I wish to die in my own bed, in my husband's arms.

I have it all planned out, you see.

So you can imagine that when the symptoms actually begain 9 months ago, I was quick to dismiss them as nothing more than the overactive imaginings of a hypochondriacal mind.

I am my mother's daughter, I would remind myself.

But the discomfort in my abdomen that comes and goes, the sense of something being there that wasn't there before, resting beneath my ribs like a shadow playing hide and seek,

"Now it's there.

Now it's not,"

easy to ignore, easy to explain away...

well, it made the vision of an early death all too real.

So I decided to go in.

Urinalysis showed high levels of bilirubin in my urine and blood tests show my white blood count is low.

The Xray technician took a picture of my abdomen, and wasn't aiming higher up under my ribs where the Dr. needed to see, so those were useless.

The end result?

Perhaps the low WBC is genetic, so that's getting ignored.

There wasn't enough bilirubin to be of major concern, so that's also getting ignored.

She suspects that it could be gallbladder, based on some other minor symptoms

and in the end I walked away with a Rx for heartburn and constipation, scratching my head.

Constipation?

Is she serious?

I'm up to my eyes in fiber!

For god's sake, I've had black beans or broccoli, as an ingredient in my dinner for the last week!

Never mind that it is not possible to be constipated for 9 months straight, during which, I pointed out, I was and always have been quite regular.

And who get's "constipated" in one small spot under their left rib that is only uncomfortable when twisting or bending?

And really, even the word "uncomfortable" is a strong word. I just didn't know how else to describe it.

It's not painful, or even moderately annoying. It's just...a presense. Something my rib keeps hitting.

Is she trying to tell me my ribs are hitting poop??

To add to my confidence in her diagnosis, she says, "I'm thankful it wasn't anything more serious, but if those Rx don't work within a month, come back and we'll do an ultrasound right away."

So what you're saying is that you're willing to wait a month to find out if your wrong and it's something "more serious"?

Clearly, I was not satisfied with that, and didn't even bother filling the prescriptions.

Dr. Google here goes home to look for a new prognosis,

only to discover that I have stage 4 pancreatic cancer.

Why, God, does the internet have to be so comprehensive, thorough, and allow information to be so...accessible?

I have now banned myself from opening any new web browsers and am only allowing myself on Hotmail, CNN, and Facebook and am consoling myself with the devil of all constipaters...

BREAD! or to be more specific: Cupcakes.

And now I realize, I have answered one of life's deepest questions:

"Cake or Death?"

 I CHOOSE CAKE, PLEASE!!

Just breathe

Someday, I swear, this life will get easier, less chaotic, serene. No promises of when, it may not be until that part of life that is inevitable, death, but I swear, it will come....both the serenity and death. ;)
Random list of all the things goings on in my life and other upcoming events: mortgages and all the tidbits from my past, present, future, children's futures, my unborn children's future that need to be collected and submitted for approval. (I literally had to find my w-2's dating all the way to 2002-2006. (!!!!) I did accomplish the American Red Cross blood drive today. I got about 25 volunteers to donate. The goal was 28 with 3 DRC donros. I got 25 donors with 5 Drc's so that's not too bad for my first go 'round. (DRC's are double red cell donors.) I have a united way meeting coming up on the 9th. I have ali's pre-k starting on the 7th, I have dr's appts. (finally!!! finally got a pcm for the northern region!!) for me and the girls. Miraculously I was able to schedule a physical and pap for myself, a well visit and immunization catch up for Madi, and a pre-k physical for Ali all in the same day with back to back appts!!! Talk about good luck there! I have to work on thursday at the Soda Fountain after work and work a double there on Saturday, as well as get $25 worth of chocolates made for someone for a bridal shower 3 days earlier than expected. I have my class reunion planning going on, and let's not forget the planning for that other nifty wonderful thing that is oh so far away. I still have to get my financial info over to my lawyer to help him finish up the opting-out agreement so Paul and I don't have to go back to court on Sept 10th, and we can be divorced within a month or so from that filing date. I have yet to receive child support this month, nor have I yet to figure out what the hell it is that the child support unit in my building actually does!!!! Jerks. I have rent, two car payments (totalling $585 just for the two cars plus $110 for insurance!!) and a $98 cell phone bill along with all my other bills. I took 5 days unpaid this last pay period so between the loss in pay there, the lack of the $989 from support, and the $1034 charge for my return flight from London, yeah, I'm hurting quite a bit. Oh and apparently I need to add a Java update for my computer, as it is flashing in my face, annoyingly. :)
I know this soundslike a miserable rant, but I'm not really all that pissy....right now. :)
I'm considering taking the test for Oneida County Deputy Sheriff Road Patrol that is coming up in November. I mean, you know, it wouldn't hurt to see if I could pass the test...right? :) I think I'd benefit greatly from the training, I think it'd teach me to be more assertive. Either that or I crumble or turn in to a blubbering puddle before even getting to learn the lesson on assertiveness! hahahaha.
Okay, bedtime. BLAH!
That's it for now.
Too lazy to spell check.... So enjoy!!
I miss you my Crystaaaaaaaaahhhhhhllllll. :):):) xoxoxoxoxoxox

Vegas, Baby

While you were gone, we celebrated my mother's 50th birthday. Although if you ask anyone on the trip, they will swear that she was celebrating her 80th. It's my fault really. She didn't want to go to Vegas, she wanted to go camping at a KOA in San Diego. Spending 7 days in northern Minnesota, (in a brand new cabin fully loaded with amenities), with my mother was so much fun that when we returned to the Twin Cities I avoided her the rest of the trip and didn't see her again until we got home to California. So why on God's green earth, I asked myself, would I volunteer to rough it, sleep in a tent, have no kitchen, tv or internet for four days? Especially when I would have to live with the painful knowledge that home was just one short 45 minute drive away? Consequently, when she told me what she wanted to do for her birthday, I openly agreed, and immediately started plotting a way to get her to change her mind. God only knows how I did it, as the woman is as stubborn as a mule. The trick was to make it think it was her own idea. Even then, the night before we were supposed to leave she was stressing and having an anxiety fit, texting me with a "I can't deal with this...We're not going." Of course, that meant I had to call her and find out what was wrong. The kitchen wasn't clean, the living room was a mess, no one was helping her, and the IRS was going to garnish her wages because of a tax liability Greg left on the business. After letting her vent and doing my best to reassure her, I hung up and told David that the trip was still up in the air. Five minutes later I got a text that said, "Fuck it. We're going." I should have known then...

Between the heat, which honestly wasn't so bad (I expected 112 degrees to feel much worse), her arthritis (which apparently flares up when she tries to walk any sort of distance), the crowds (she gets claustrophobic), her not wanting to spend any money (unless it was on shopping), we were all ready to declare mutiny and tie her to the bow of the ship that sits in front of Treasure Island - during the nightly pyrotechnic part of the show where it goes up in flames...

Now you might not think that's very nice of us to think. But no sooner did we leave our hotel the first day, (on our way to the Bellagio to see the botanical gardens and then the Mirage to see the white tigers) and she charges off down the strip at a lightening pace and manages to put one block of distance between me and my kids and siblings (though she had Emma with her), so much so that we could barely see her. We eventually caught up with her in an outdoor shopping forum where she had collapsed on a bench next to a vending machine selling water. "What on earth are you doing?" I asked her, puzzled.
"I'm trying to get to where we're going as fast as possible before the heat melts my shoes to the pavement or my arthritis makes me feet swell, because then my shoes won't fit," she snaps.
Right. I know my mother and can tell how quickly this is about to take a turn for the worse. So I take control of the situation and change the plans. I sell my plan thusly: "Let's get mom a wheelchair or I'm going to strangle her." We walked and she limped her way into Treasure Island, where I dragged us all to a concierge desk that had two cherry red electric wheelchairs sitting in front of it.
"I need one of those," I plead the man behind the desk, worried that they might only be for paying guests of the hotel. Lucky for us, they were for rent. Ten minutes later, we're cruising out of the hotel from a side entrance, trying to find our way back to the Strip. With Sophia in her lap, my mother, being my mother, decides to cross the side street instead of driving a little further to the cross walk. Not wanting to get separated, we all ran across the street, shouting after her - "What are you doing?!" We make it to the sidewalk, just as she realizes that she's in a wheelchair and needs a ramp to get back up onto the sidewalk. Thus, she is forced to drive down the rest of the street, into a turning lane, now with a car behind her, with Sophia in her lap, trying to make it to the cross walk ramp. I swear I didn't know whether to pee my pants laughing or strangle her. Of course, my camera batteries were dead, but I do have the video on her Droid. I'll have to upload it somehow.

15 minutes later, Ashley claims she can't walk any further because she's wearing shorts. We look, and sure enough her skin between her thighs is bright red and beginning to blister. Now we take another detour into Caesar's Forum looking for a pair of pants for Ashley. For the love of Pete!
You will find it hilarious to know that my mother's wheelchair eventually begins short circuiting, and would go from traveling 10 miles an hour to a dead stop. We had to call Treasure Island who sent someone to come pick it up, only he couldn't find us, so we had to walk all the way back to the hotel with my mother riding the wheelchair, stopping and going in abrupt spurts. There are Treasure Island, she says we're taking a cab back to the hotel so we can eat. Not wanting her to waste the money, I tell her to take a cab, and we can walk. She insists we take a cab, I insist we don't need one, go ahead without us. To make my point, I walk away, only to have her follow us for another two blocks before she drags us into a cab line and hails two taxis. "Get in the taxi," I am told.
We never made it to see anything we had set out to see. And that was the end of the first day.

The next day was a little better as I acquiesced to all her wishes. We went to the MGM Grand, watched them feed the lions, which was really cool. They would throw raw hamburger meat on the glass right in fron of where you stood, and the lions would come lick it off. William and Sophia both got meat on the glass in front of their faces. We hit the M&M store, did some shopping, had lunch at MGM Rainforest Cafe, and then that night we dressed up and had an "Old Time" photo shoot, after which the kids went to the amusement park inside out hotel, with rollercoasters and such.
And now, some random pictures...

My mother is an alien. I swear it.

Her favorite brother-in-law

He really is a good Uncle.

At the M&M store

My mother, learning what a "Dirty Sanchez" was.

Minnesota Trip in pictures, continued...

It was amazing to be able to see my family and cousins again. This was the first time we've all been together in over ten years. It makes me sad to think about it. Maybe if we're lucky, David can pick up recruiting orders to the Twin Cities in 2012. We shall see. In the meantime, here are some of my favorite memories...

This is our attempt at "attitude". I'm not quite sure we were successful.

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Matt (in the Gumby shirt) was having a hard time having attitude and looking pissed, so Zach (his brother in the red shirt) slapped him and then looked away. We were all rolling in the grass.

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I added this one just for you.

 It reminded me of that really old email you dug up that had the dream about my brother in it.

Hehe.

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And one more of my boys, because I love them.

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My "beaufitul" Aunt Kelly. I yuv her too.

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You know this girl...

and this girl...

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Don't let her fool you. she really loved fishing and being out on the pontoon boat.

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there was a lot of this....

and this....

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After 7 days of fun, we headed back to the Cities. While we were there, we met up with Emma's Grandma Kim and Grandpa Pat.

Can you believe how old Emma looks? She's starting 7th grade this month, and turning 12 in November.

Whoa.

Anyway, I won't bore you with more pictures. Suffice it to say, we had a sweet time on my mother's dime, although she says she'd do it again in a heartbeat, though the whole vacation cost her over $6000.

Can't wait to see any pictures you might have from your London trip:)

On the Road Again

Left California at 4am. The pictures didn't start until Vegas, and this was the first...

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Driving cross country always surprises me as to how much open land still exists out there.

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The have alpacas in Idaho. Who knew? This guy was across the road from our tent site at the KOA in Pocatello, Idaho. We had bought William a cheap little handcarved slingshot in Utah and he spent all afternoon collecting gravel to practice shooting the poor animal. (Don't worry, his rocks never made it more than four feet in front of him, but he was having such a blast I hadn't the heart to instruct him on the finer points of animal cruelty.)

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Driving through Montana - no matter which direction I looked, there were mountain ranges. Most of them had some form of snow at the peaks...in June, no less. I think if I had to, I could live in Montana. It was my  most favorite state to drive through on this route, hands down.

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We finally made it to the cabin! This is the view of the lake from our front porch...(looking to the left)

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(and then looking to the right...)

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My mother also rented a pontoon for the week. David has since told me that he now wants one. Some other activities there included:

fishing with cousin Lacey

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david's first attempt to clean a fish

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what's David without a guitar?

(sorry that it's sideways)

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waterskiing for the first time! (I refused after I watched David bite it in the face three times in a row, and then crawl back into the boat complaining how much his arm muscles hurt.)

 

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ogeling over my cousin's skill

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and tubing...where we bit it and flipped going 40 mph. I really never knew how much water, as a landing surface, hurts! Allow me to show you the following sequence of events....

Step 1: Get in the tube.

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Step 2: Find a comfortable position

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Step 3: Realize too late that falling into the bottom of the tube is not a good idea. Wait.

Realize that you're backwards. Husband pees his pants laughing at you.

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Step 4: Hit cruising altitude.

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Step 5: Hit turbulence and crash. (The big blob on top is David flying, the big blob on the bottom is me smashing into the water neck first).