FINAL NABLOPOMO POST!

I went to WalMart for a few random items this afternoon. I didn't have a list, but I knew I needed bananas and a scarf.

I was meandering along when I came upon The Seasonal Aisle. I really like The Seasonal Aisle. They have all sorts of stuff crammed together that would usually be in all different parts of the store, so that makes it convenient, and interesting. (By interesting, I mean that Dillon was at home with my brother and I could actually attend to the items around me without searching for the elusive "BALL!" that Dillon sees everywhere we go.)

I was super-interested in what I found on The Seasonal Aisle. It was chocolate! Various brands, combinations, and assortments. All right in front of me! It looked sort of like the Valentine's Day Seasonal Aisle, but some candy was wrapped in green foil. The bright lights of the store reflected off the all the shiny packages. The air on that aisle was rich with the smell of chocolate. I was giddy. I was walking with my cart, staring at all the packages, wondering what treat I would bring home for my hips.

CHANG-A-RANG! and "UuuunnnnGGGGH!" happened simultaneously.

The first sound is that of my cart colliding with the large, white, concrete post planted right in the middle of The Seasonal Aisle. (Hel-LO?)

The second sound was the ladylike noise that I emitted when my stomach collided with the handle on my cart and my lunch enchiladas were pressed against my spine.

There were actually people on the aisle, too. And guess what I did! As if the situation could be any more lame.

"Sorry!" I shouted, to the post. "I was looking at the chocolate!" Again, very loudly, and directly to the post.

I hobbled away, empty-handed but clutching my stomach, heat radiating off my face and threatening the integrity of the chocolate around me.

So think of me, when you are on The Seasonal Aisle. And learn a lesson from a friend: grab a bag of chocolate, even if you have to make a quick getaway.

Wondering

I am my mother's daughter, but I realize it, and that makes it better. Doesn't it?

Post #28

I have started four different posts and none of them feel right. Lemme tell you this: I am hot, sticky, tired, and frazzled. Nothing productive is coming out of this brain tonight.

Right before Dillon goes to bed, he stares vacantly at random things in the room and laughs or cries. It is sheer exhaustion and there is no purpose behind his behavior. He isn't being moody, he is just being FINISHED for the day.

That is me. Finished for the day.

Till tomorrow.

R is for Rookie

So, you aren't going to get another post about ironing. Sometimes good stuff happens just when you need a blogging idea for NaBloPoMo.

A week or so ago, another writer asked about rookie parenting mistakes on her blog. You know, like, did you ever leave your six month old alone with a box of wipes? Or did you ever run out of the house to go shopping without the kids and take the diaper bag instead of a purse?

I thought for a while and couldn't come up with any rookie mistakes. "I guess I just have a handle on all of this stuff," I thought. I could think of several of Daniel's rookie mistakes, but I didn't feel like ratting him out on the internet, so I didn't post any comments at all.

I should have knocked on wood, or whatever superstitious people do, because a rookie mistake happened today, and it was a doozy.

My brother, Dillon, and I went to a local Mexican restaurant for dinner tonight. Brother babysat for me this afternoon, and I was paying him back for his time. We rushed out of the house and I grabbed Dillon, my purse, and my keys. When we got to the restaurant, I realized I had forgotten the diaper bag. Woops.

Well, I always keep a few extra diapers in the trunk, and Dillon is as regular as the noontime train, if you know what I mean, so I didn't sweat it.

We ate our meal, and I was getting out my wallet, when I discovered Dillon making the classic look of concentration.

This is when time.... began.... to.... slow.... down....

I pulled out the back of his diaper to check status just in time to catch the volcano erupting. Seriously. Did I forget to mention that he has had a touch of IBS the past couple of days? Oh, yeah? Well, that is cause I FORGOT.

I sent Brother to the car for a diaper, and I shoved extra napkins down Dillon's pants. I started sweating. Brother was gone for an extremely long time. He finally showed up, empty handed. Oh, yeah!!!! I used the backup diapers last week when I ran out! Someone, please change places with me!

Dillon and I went for a walk. We scouted the restaurant for any toddlers whose mommies might be better prepared than I was. Nope. There weren't many people out, much less kids.

But there was a newborn about three tables down. She hadn't pinked up yet from being born, and her mom was slamming a margarita. Must've been a long 9 months, but who am I to judge?

I tentatively approached her. "I am so sorry to interrupt your meal, but I have a favor to ask. I left my diaper bag at home and his corndog just did the luge through his colon. Do you have an extra diaper?"

She was so pleased to help that she sent me off with a diaper AND some wipes. Sweet lady. Ignore whatever I said about the drink.

I cleaned Dillon up, and put on his newborn bikini. It didn't even fasten on the sides. I pulled his pants up over what was essentially a glorified paper towel, and we were on our way.

So you would think I had learned my lesson! But I didn't restock the trunk yet, or check the diaper bag for plenty of supplies. I came straight in here to blog.

I was so relieved to not have to write about ironing again!

Pressing issues: Part I

I hate to iron clothes.

I think it is cause my mother ruthlessly paid me to iron when I was younger, so it was a job, but it was also a strenuous moral obligation. If I didn't iron the clothes, I experienced the Guilt Trip That Only A Mother Can Give. If I did iron, I was cranky, frustrated, hot, and left holding six bucks for an hour and a half of work.

A better strategy would have been to withhold ironing. "Oh, Mandy! You aren't old enough! The iron is way to heavy and hot. Maybe next year!"

By the time I got out on my own, I would have been itching to rebel. I would probably have ironed all my Saturday nights away - high on the sheer exhilaration of doing something I shouldn't. We wouldn't be taking our clothes to the dry cleaner, because I would WANT to iron them at home!

Military creases in Daniel's BDUs? No problem! Tricky pleats in that dress shirt? I can handle it!

It makes you afraid doesn't it? The potential for passion about ironing? It is all in how the game is played. Well, it was played wrong with me.

I guess that is why I just took out the iron, ironing board, and starch and obediently ironed the collar and bottom 2 inches of a dress shirt that I will be wearing under a sweater. No wasted effort here. I would have done it with my flat iron in the morning, but starch residue does weird things to my hair.

(I know this post has had you all on the edge of your seats, and that is a good thing. I think I will actually have Part II of this post tomorrow! I know you can't wait!)

Heard around the house today

Ka-chunk!

"Ooops!"

Ka-chunk!

"Dang it!"

Ka-chunk!

"Are you kidding me?"

Ka-chunk!

"Daniel! We have to take this thing off!"

Those are sounds heard in the kitchen today after Daniel installed a safety latch on the cabinet that houses our trash. I never realized that I open that cabinet very often, but it averages 733 times a day. For each of those times, I forgot that the latch was there. I yanked on the cabinet door, like I always do, repeatedly causing damage to the plastic latch, the cabinet door, and even my shoulder.

And it wasn't like it was a secret. Each time I pulled on the cabinet, there was a reverberating Ka-CHUNK!!! heard throughout the house. The first few times it was funny, but by late this evening, I was furious with the safety latch manufacturers. (What??? I couldn't blame myself!) What a stupid invention! It makes the user feel stupid. And it is loud. And frustrating.

Knowing what I know about behavior and how it is learned, I should be on the downhill slide of this one. I expect fewer mistakes tomorrow, and then by the end of next week, I will open ALL of my cabinets with my thumb ready to depress the latch.

But for now, I am piling the trash on the counter. A girl can only take so much ridicule in one day.

Once upon a time

I love kids' books. I love them. I love to open a book and see familiar pictures, and read familiar words. I love Peter Rabbit and all of the friends Ms. Potter created for him. I love Mrs. Piggle Wiggle and all her silly "cures." I love The Wizard of Oz, The Boxcar Children, SuperFudge, Ramona, and Trixie Belden. I have a special place for Anne of Green Gables. I am enthralled by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I love the old, maroon fabric-covered book that holds my favorite childhood tale, "Little Black Sambo." I remember going to the library and searching the shelves for those magical stories that I got to keep for two weeks! I recall being WAY too old to be read to, and still, my mother read me Dorrie the Witch while I soaked in the tub.

Books stay with me, much as movies stay with some people. While my friends are quoting parts of The Princess Bride (which I have seen exactly once, about ten years ago), I am thinking of parts of books that recently graced my nightstand. Sometimes I even get deja vu about something in my life, only to realize that it is similar to something I read. Okay, now that is a little weird.

So my question to you is, what childhood books make you nostalgic? Which stories really take you back to mama's lap? I want to know cause there are so many I have forgotten! Remind me!

Confession

How many more days of NaBloPoMo? I am realizing that I don't have that much to say. I-think-I-can-I-think-I-can-I-think-I-can...

Did you slip me a mickey?

I have always heard that turkey had some sort of sedating effect, and I have eaten it many times without really noticing that result, but today was totally different.

We ate at my grandmother's house, watched football, and had civilized conversation. (Mine is one of the few families I know of that has alcohol-free gatherings, so there are no brawls or liquor induced "truth tellings" about relatives.) Things were winding down, and I had hit the dessert table twice. We unbuttoned our jeans, packed up our things, and loaded up for the four minute drive home.

Once we got to the house, we put Dillon down for a much-needed nap, and Daniel and I raced to the bedroom. (Um, no. Not for that. We are way beyond that. We wanted SLEEP!)

I fell asleep and had abundant dreams. My dad bought me plastic and foam jewelry. Daniel was leaving me to move to the Caribbean. My fingers broke off and I had to use forks instead, Edward Scissorhands style.

I had hours of sleep. Three, to be exact. Daniel got up with Dillon and let me nap. And nap. And nap. He finally woke me up because we were an hour late to a social engagement and he wanted to know if we were still going. My mind was all foggy and thick. My back hurt cause I hadn't moved during my sleep.

Man, that felt good. And I am thankful! For my house, my bed, my pillow, my family, and the opportunity to be a glutton and a sloth, all in the same day.

Post #22

I hope that you have a Thanksgiving abundant with the things that are central to giving thanks: large gatherings of family, third helpings of food, plenty of dessert, football, and an afternoon nap!

Post #21

We got our Christmas picture proofs back. Our clothes are perfectly coordinated. The weather was great. The place we chose was gorgeous. Dillon was in a wonderful mood. Daniel got a haircut and was willing to smile. Our photographer is terrific.

You would have thought that our pictures would turn out great.

But then you add in a haggard mother who worked all day and whose hair was having a split personality. Squeeze one eye closed more than the other, throw on a forced smile. Add an extra chin, and what do you have? ME. Ruining the pictures.

How appropriate would it be to crop myself out, and just send a picture of my boys out for Christmas? Daniel says it would look like I was "absent." I think it would just look like I was taking the picture. Is anyone that naive?

I fought the law

I beat the system! I figured out a way to access Blogger through our firewall at school. But don't tell. They'll shut me down.

Everybody with me now, in the spirit of Napolean Dynamite:

"YESSSSSS! Sweet!"

I spy

We put Dillon down for bed tonight, then both came in here to the computer room to watch the monitor. He is so funny when he is going to bed! He talks to himself. He tosses and turns. He picks up his blanket and his books and moves them all around his bed. After a few minutes of this, he turns on his tummy and puts his hiney in the air. He babbles for a minute and then he is asleep. It is so precious to watch.

Tonight was a little different. He sat up. He held his blanket in his lap. He leaned forward and rested for a second. Then he popped up and crawled across the crib.

Toward the camera.

Then he GRABBED the camera. Talk about freaky! Daniel and I were watching as he grabbed the camera from between the slats on his crib. He pulled it in toward himself, so we got a crazy, ragged zoom on his little face, then he chunked it down on the floor.

Now all we can see is a patch of fuzzy carpet.

I guess I wouldn't want someone watching me as I slept, either.

Short and sweet (and perplexed)

How in the world do people with small children have a Christmas tree in their home?

Down on the farm: A Soundtrack

My kiddos and I went on a field trip today. My four students, two aides, one parent, and I accompanied 100 giggly kindergarten students and their teachers to a farm. (The appropriate kindergarten song to sing when going to a farm is "The Farmer in the Dell.")

Before we went, we talked about all the animals we would see, hear, and smell. (The appropriate kindergarten song to sing when talking about farm animals is "Old MacDonald.")

We went to the bathroom, put on our coats, hats and gloves, and got on the bus. (The appropriate kindergarten song to sing when riding a bus is "The Wheels on the Bus.")

We rode a few miles down a highway, the turned down a bumpy dirt driveway. We drove by piles of broken and discarded farm equipment that lined either side of the path. (The appropriate kindergarten song to sing when looking at broken farm equipment is "There's a Hole in the Bucket, Dear Liza.")

We got out and looked a some wild turkeys that barked like dogs. (The appropriate kindergarten song to sing when viewing turkeys that bark like dogs is a revised version of "Old MacDonald.")

We fed some cows and saw some giant pigs. (The appropriate kindergarten song to sing when looking at large, stinking farm beasts is "Shoo, Fly.")

After an hour-and-a-half of riotous herding-of-small-children, we reloaded the bus and rode a few miles back to school. (The appropriate kindergarten song to sing when arriving back at school after a trip like that is a rhythmic combo of "Hallelujah" and "If You're Happy and You Know It, Take a Nap." sung in rounds by all the grateful, exhausted adults present.)

Continuing Education Opportunity!

SPRING CLASSES FOR MEN. REGISTRATION MUST BE COMPLETED BY Monday, February 9, 2007.

NOTE: DUE TO THE COMPLEXITY AND DIFFICULTY LEVEL OF THEIR CONTENT, CLASS SIZES WILL BE LIMITED TO 8 PARTICIPANTS MAXIMUM.

Classes begin Tuesday, March 25, 2007:

Class 1
How To Fill Up The Ice Cube Trays --- Step by Step, with Slide Presentation.
Meets 4 weeks, Monday and Wednesday for 2 hours beginning at 7:00 PM.

Class 2
The Toilet Paper Roll: Does It Change Itself? ---Round Table Discussion.
Meets 2 weeks, Saturday 12:00 for 2 hours.

Class 3
Is It Possible To Urinate Using The Technique Of Lifting The Seat and Avoiding The Floor, Walls and Nearby Bathtub? --- Group Practice.
Meets 4 weeks, Saturday 10:00 PM for 2 hours.

Class 4
Fundamental Differences Between The Laundry Hamper and The Floor ---Pictures and Explanatory Graphics.
Meets Saturday at 2:00 PM for 3 weeks.

Class 5
After Dinner Dishes: Can They Levitate and Fly Into The Kitchen Sink? --- Examples on Video.
Meets 4 weeks, Tuesday and Thursday for 2 hours beginning at 7:00 PM.

Class 6
Loss Of Identity: Losing The Remote To Your Significant Other --- Help Line Support and Support Groups.
Meets 4 Weeks, Friday and Sunday 7:00 PM.

Class 7
Learning How To Find Things: Starting With Looking In The Right Places And Not Turning The House Upside Down While Screaming --- Open Forum.
Monday at 8:00 PM, 2 hours.

Class 8
Health Watch: Bringing Her Flowers Is Not Harmful To Your Health --- Graphics and Audio Tapes.
Three nights: Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 7:00 PM for 2 hours.

Class 9
Real Men Ask For Directions When Lost --- Real Life Testimonials
Tuesday at 6:00 PM, location to be determined.

Class 10
Is It Genetically Impossible To Sit Quietly While She Parallel Parks? --- Driving Simulations.
Meets 4 weeks, Saturday noon, 2 hours.

Class 11
Learning to Live: Basic Differences Between Mother and Wife --- Online Classes and role-playing .
Tuesday at 7:00 PM, location to be determined.

Class 12
How to be the Ideal Shopping Companion --- Relaxation Exercises, Meditation and Breathing Techniques
Meets 4 weeks, Tuesday and Thursday for 2 hours, beginning at 7:00 PM.

Class 13
How to Fight Cerebral Atrophy: Remembering Birthdays, Anniversaries and Other Important Dates and Calling When You're Going To Be Late --- Cerebral Shock Therapy Sessions and Full Lobotomies Offered.
Three nights - Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 7:00 PM for 2 hours.

Class 14
The Stove/Oven: What It Is and How It Is Used --- Live Demonstration.
Tuesday at 6:00 PM, location to be determined.

Affirmative

Lets all practice nodding our heads. Pretend like you don’t have any strength in your neck. Now let the weight of your head be the momentum you use to drop your head down, then rock it all the way backwards.

How does that feel? Is your neck snapping?

Now, vigorously raise your eyebrows repeatedly: UP and DOWN, and UP and DOWN.

That is how Dillon says “Yes.”

As in: “Did you peepee on the floor?”

Head nod and eyebrow raise. Serious gaze.

As in: “Are you a monkey?”

Head nod and eyebrow raise, again. Serious gaze, barely concealing a smirk.

As in: “Does your mama love you?”

Head nod and eyebrow raise. Huge smile breaks out as he flips out of my lap and crawls away giggling.

Oh, yes, she does.

Weight Watchers

I hate dieting. It is really frustrating to me, so I can totally understand why Dillon is frustrated.

I have had to put him on a "diet." I have to restrict his consumption of certain things, and it is driving him crazy. The list of "no-no" things is pretty short, but we add to it daily.

The first thing we had on the list was "dried out caterpillars and roly-poly bugs." He hated that one, cause he and Tux are always finding bugs and worms near the doors of our house. Now he knows he isn't supposed to eat them, and it just makes him want them that much more.

The second item was "slivers of pink soap from the tub." Gagging all the while, Dillon chewed merrily on a piece last week, tiny suds slipping out of the corner of his mouth. I explained that this would give him "the shoots" and he needed to not do that.

Today we added "orange washable markers." During a minimally supervised coloring activity, Dillon bit the pointy end off the marker, and then proceeded to suck all the ink out. He grinned a huge orange grin at me, his white teeth offset nicely by the orange ink dripping between them.

I am sure there will be many more things I have to take away. Like dog food, paper, and hair. If only dieting like an adult were as easy as dieting like a baby.

Blatant propaganda

Top Ten Reasons to Join the Journey

10. Amanda Sue is doing it, so you KNOW its gotta be good.

9. It involves multi-tasking: email and devotional, at the SAME TIME!

8. You don’t know everything about the New Testament yet.

7. You get different perspectives from the many submitters.

6. It guarantees success for your New Year’s resolution of “read my Bible more frequently.”

5. You can do it at work.

4. We can discuss it on Upheaval, and that is always fun!

3. You can do it in your pajamas.

2. Friends will wonder how you got so smart.

And the number one reason to Join the Journey is:

1. It is yet another form of cyber-exercise (“journey”) that sounds vigorous but is actually done by computer-chair-potatoes!

Testing Flikr

Fuzzy

My pictures are all fuzzy. That is really annoying to me. They are really great quality on my computer, but when I upload them to Photobucket and post them on here, they look like crap.

Anybody else use a better site for pictures?

New Blogger

Has anyone switched to the new version yet? Do I need to do that? It says I will have to sign in through Google.

A couple of years ago, AT&T merged with Yahoo, and made my life a lot more complicated as far as email was concerned. It took me awhile to undo what I had done when I "got my new version of Yahoo email." I am just trying to avoid that stress again.

And, yes, this is my post for this lazy, nappy, family Saturday. :)

Cutest Post EVAH!

We took some pictures at our local pumpkin patch a couple of weeks ago. It was pretty dark out, so I had to use a flash. It would have been better without, but I still think my subject was pretty darn cute!

Post #9

This past year, when I was in graduate school, I made a new friend. She was the same as me: a woman, a teacher, funny, and very sarcastic. We hit it off and we ended up grabbing dinner before class once a week and visiting when we had time.

Now, I am a Christian. I believe that there is nothing I can do on this earth that will make me good enough for the grace that God has extended to me. I believe that once I accept His offer of forgiveness, I am free and clear. This is not an excuse to live a life of abandon! But I know that I can't make myself look any "purer" to Him.

That being said, let me tell you that my graduate school friend is Pentecostal. Long skirts, long hair, no makeup, the belief that you are not "saved" unless you are of her faith.

That was an awkward situation for me. I knew that she "pitied" me and probably prayed for my salvation at her church group meetings. I knew that she lived a "holier" life than me, and probably disapproved of my favorite blue jeans.

We had several discussions about our differing faiths. I listened to what she had to say, and she presented verse after verse that supported her ideas. She told me that she did not believe that I was "saved" because I had not been filled with the Holy Spirit and spoken in tongues. I am secure in my faith, but I lack in the confidence to evangelize, so I was very comfortable just listening. And asking sincere questions. I would like to think that I was open-minded, without being naive. This went on for several months. Her persistence in sharing her ideas made me think hard about my own faith, but I never traded my jeans for a skirt.

After we graduated in August, my friend and I kept in touch. We emailed and made plans to get together after we got settled into our school routines. I was excited to see her and catch up. She came over last week, and Daniel let her in.

His eyebrows were about half-an-inch higher on his forehead as he showed her into the living room. I choked on a grape when I saw her standing there in khakis, with jewelry on, and with short hair.

"She is UNPENTECOSTAL!" I shouted.

(I don't even think that is a word, but it was all I could think of at the time.)

My friend laughed. We had a really long talk and she said that the whole time that she was preaching to me, her heart was softening. She said she realized that many people in her church were living hypocritical lives. They put themselves on a pedestal because they have the "strength" to shun worldly things, and look down on others who don't do that. They consider themselves an elite, judging the salvation of those around them.

She said that she didn't want to live that way any more. She had lived a Pentecostal lifestyle for more than 14 years. She cut off all ties with her church, including her best friend. The kicker was that her best friend accused her of "being Baptist" and having "struggled with that problem for years."

She is now happily involved in a non-denominational church. The members fully accept her and know where she is coming from. She said she hasn't been this stress-free in a really long time.

It is so strange to me that our conversations had any affect on her at all. I never even had anything intelligent to say! But it seems to have affected her greatly, and for that I am thankful. She has lost the fear that accompanied her faith before.

Isn't it funny how the Lord chooses to use us at times? I never would have thought I could ever have a hand in unconverting a Pentecostal person, but I think that is just what happened!

Post #8

I am so behind on reading blogs that this is my post for today!

Hey, this month, it is about quantity, not quality.

Men are from, um..., who knows?

A conversation I overheard:

Woman: If we got a divorce, where would you go to look for a new mate?

Man: I dunno. A stripclub? I think I'd like to hook up with a stripper.

Woman: *DEATHLY SILENCE*

Man: What?

Woman: Nothing.

Man: Where would you go?

Woman: To church, or maybe just wherever you are. Cause you are my one and only!

Man: D'oh.

Woman: I'll give you another try, cause I can tell you desperately need one. If we got divorced, where would you go to meet a new mate?

Man: Um.... myspace.com?

What a keeper! Round of applause for the husband in that couple, cause he definitely married up. As they usually do...

What goes around...

"Daniel? Did you read my blog?"

"Nu-uh. I haven't read it in a while."

"Well.... I posted about the pink ribbons. There are too many of them."

"Amanda! That isn't nice!"

"But it is how I feel. I worded it nicely I think!"

"You still don't mess with the pink. That is a good thing. Don't gripe about it."

"Hmph." I pout. Is he right? I dunno.

But this is what my skin looked like this morning. Ankle to neck. Don't tell me there is no such thing as karma:

A little pink Grinch

I hope I don't step on your toes. I really hope I don't offend you. Cause I like you!

I am wearing a sports bra that has a pink ribbon on it. That is understandable, because of the purpose of a bra, and the meaning of a pink ribbon. But you know what? Pink ribbons are on everything. EH. VREE. THANG.

Yogurt, tee-shirts, shampoo, tennis shoes, cosmetics, electronic sudoku, cell phone covers, i-Pod cases, spatulas, towels, brownie mix, and about a million other products.

At what point do we stop calling this "awareness" and start calling it "exploitation?" Are manufacturers using the pink ribbon to boost their image and increase sales? Or do the makers of my sudoku game REALLY care about breast cancer? So what if they donate a minute percentage to The Cure? If they were truly concerned, I bet they could scrape together a little more than the measly one percent or so that actually goes to charity.

I hate to be a Negative Nelly, but gosh, I am really tired of seeing it. And I am sure other people are, too. It is one thing to purchase a product that promises endorsement of something you would like to support. It is another to become so jaded to the sight of a pink ribbon that it doesn't even move you to think about the meaning behind it.

Another thing that bugs me is that it seems so POLITICAL and MARKET-RESEARCHED. Of course there is not a huge explosion of things with yellow ribbons. Or AIDS awareness. Or support for Planned Parenthood. Those things are too edgy.

Breast cancer is safe: Look at us! With our pink ribbons! We are involved and concerned. We want to make a difference! We want to stand for something, but we don't really want to stand OUT. So just buy our cute pink things, and you can feel like you have done something.

I guess I seem really critical about a movement that is truly raising awareness of a terrible disease. I really am sorry.

Can't un

This morning, at 5 am, I was all gung-ho about Canton.

By 5 pm, the enthusiasm had dwindled and all that was left was a throbbing in my knees and a numbness in my distended belly.

We had a good time.

We ate all the food - strange versions of peanut brittle, chicken on a stick, expensive vats of hot cocoa, samples of bizarre jellies (peanut jelly? lime-beef jelly?), and even a nibble of a gourmet doggie biscuit.

We shopped at all the vendors - plywood yard art, scrap metal yard art, lighted yard art, inflatable yard art, animated yard art, gnomish yard art, etc. And jewelry, and children's clothes, and blankets, and Christmas ornaments, and real antiques, and fake antiques that just looked like someone cleaned out their junk room at home, and knives, and animals, such as donkeys, which were there in case you needed one to haul all your crap home.

We analyzed WHY in the Sam-Hill someone would bring their infant to First Monday. "Are you kidding me? That child still has an umbilical stump, and you are parading them around at a flea market?" That got very tiring because there were more babies there than adults. So we finally quit worrying about those poor babies, and wondered why we didn't bring ours for the day! Then we figured out that maybe these people were buying the babies at the flea market. And that is why they had them there! THAT must be it. Whew.

Anyway, eating, shopping, analyzing - that is our day in a nutshell. Pecan. Or maybe Walnut. With jalepenos. Mixed into brittle and put into a jar and sold for $18.

"Please understand that Canton is a city of approx. 4000 people. One weekend every month the population grows to over 200,000 visitors."

I am going to Canton for the weekend.

What? You don't know what CANTON is? Who are you? You must not live in TEXAS.

Sheesh.

I have some running shoes and a pocketful of cash. I will probably not return with the cash.

Post #2

Happy birthday to ME! And this is my gift from Daniel. Woohoo!

Thirty is looming a little closer now. I think that by the age of thirty, I will really have my stuff together. I think I won't feel like a high-schooler. I won't still be buying Clearasil for myself. I won't lose things in my purse, and I will probably know how to do call-waiting on my cell phone without dropping both calls. I will finally have good posture. I will not ever tear my fingernails off when I am anxious. I will cook a good square meal for dinner every day. I won't have to apologize so much, cause I won't be walking around with my foot in my mouth. I will have more than one kind of perfume, so I will have a choice in the morning. My closet will be cleaned out, and my clothes will be ironed.

For now, I am going to clip the raggedy edges of my nails before work, and put on a sweater that I found under my winter boots, cause I still have two whole years before all of that happens!

Have a good MY BIRTHDAY!

Post #1

Ever since I found out about NaBloPoMo, I have been talking about it at home:

"What do you want for dinner? November is NaBloPoMo!"

"I am going to jump in the shower before NaBloPoMo gets here."

"Guess what Dillon said today?? NaBloPoMo!!!"

I think I just like the mushed-up, nonsensical, invented-word feel it has.

Sort of like badonkadonk.

Um... okay, not so much.