Top o' the mornin' to you! (whatever that means)

I am having one of THOSE DAYS. You know what I am talking about: if all of my days were like this, I would have the perfect life!

I got up early with Dillon and he smiled and flirted through his breakfast. We went to the gym, and I worked out a little and visited a little. The sun is shining and the sky is blue. It is about 58 degrees outside and I am wearing shorts. My windows are open and I can hear the birds singing. The Catholic church up the street rings the bells every hour. I feel like my day should be a commercial for good days.

So, I wanted to spread the joy. God has given me a wonderful morning. What has He given you today?

Chills (the good kind)

I recently got this emailed to me. I am sorry I missed it on television, but it totally makes me want to go hang out in an airport and wait for a military person in BDUs to get off a plane.

LaLa Land

Dillon has a new favorite activity. He is doing it right now. (For the record, it is 4:09 am.)

It is shouting. He has tiny lungs, but they are loud.

He shouts "LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!" for no particular reason, except that he can, and it gets him a little attention in the middle of the night.

"LaLa land" always meant "walking around in a dream-like state" to me. Not anymore. Since being jerked from slumber with "LALALA!", I would have to say that LaLa Land is anything but dreamy.

A new fake leaf

I am very hard to read. I am sarcastic and rarely serious. I don't change my expression when I am joking. I say what most people are thinking, but I say it out loud. I think I can be harsh and probably offensive.

The side effect of this is that there are not very many people who "get" me.

Tonight, in my class, I was introspective. My professor, who knows me well, mentioned that it is hard to tell when I am serious and when I am not. Daniel and I discussed it, and he gave me some tips on how to be more "normal" so others would know how to take me.

His advice was to "be a little more fake."

So, I am cleaning up my act. I am going to be likeable and "getable." Just don't look for truth here.

To Do List

We have a dry erase board on the refrigerator on which we write "things we need to do." I currently have 85 things on my list, and Daniel has 2. I am not sure if the problem is that he has already done all that he needs to in life, or if he just doesn't plan on doing much.

Today, I got to erase some things from my list. Dillon and I ran errands, and then we went to see my Grandma. When we got home, I walked straight to the board and erased three things (Post Office, Bradley, Articles). Then I took the marker and wrote "Grandma" and then erased it with my finger.

Is that compulsive?

Also, nowhere on my list does it say "Eat Lunch." That is why it is 2:15 and I am CRANKY!

Random Knowledge

If someone you love begins screaming like a woman, and you don't know why, check his diaper. You may find something bigger than words to explain his distress.

(Note: This does not apply to someone you love who does not wear diapers. I have no advice to offer about that.)

(Note #2: This also does not apply to someone you love who is a woman, and who is screaming like one. That is a normal phenomenon and you should not attempt to check her diaper.)

If you are addicted, as I am, you might find, in the following, something to tide you over between Sundays.

http://www.greyswriters.com/

Also, are all of those commas appropriately placed? I felt like using some commas, people. So sue me.

Chili cookoff

In honor of the Annual Hot-to-Trot Chili Cookoff this weekend, I am posting this email I got from a forward-happy friend.

We were going to go to the cookoff, but it is way too cold for Dillon, so we will just sit at home and read this over and over again instead! Note that I didn't change the language, so don't be offended. I didn't write it, just laughed at it!

If you can read this whole story without laughing then there's no hope for you. I was crying by the end. Note: Please take time to read this slowly. If you pay attention to the first two judges, the reaction of the third judge is even better. For those of you who have lived in Texas, you know how true this is. They actually have a Chili Cook-off about the time Halloween comes around. It takes up a major portion of a parking lot at the San Antonio City Park. Judge #3 was an inexperienced chili taster named Frank, who was visiting from Springfield, IL.

Frank: "Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge's table asking for directions to the Coors Light truck, when the call came in. I was assured by the other two judges (Native Texans) that the chili wouldn't be all that spicy and, besides, they told me I could have free beer during the tasting, so I accepted."

Here are the scorecard notes from the event:

CHILI # 1 - MIKE'S MANIAC MONSTER CHILI

Judge # 1 -- A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.
Judge # 2 -- Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.
Judge # 3 (Frank) -- Holy shit, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put the flames out. I hope that's the worst one. These Texans are crazy.

CHILI # 2 - AUSTIN'S AFTERBURNER CHILI

Judge # 1 -- Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight jalapeno tang.
Judge # 2 -- Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
Judge # 3 -- Keep this out of the reach of children. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to rush in more beer when they saw the look on my face.

CHILI # 3 - FRED'S FAMOUS BURN DOWN THE BARN CHILI

Judge # 1 -- Excellent firehouse chili. Great kick.
Judge # 2 -- A bit salty, good use of peppers.
Judge # 3 -- Call the EPA. I've located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Get me more beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded me on the back, now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I'm getting shit-faced from all of the beer.

CHILI # 4 - BUBBA'S BLACK MAGIC

Judge # 1 -- Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
Judge # 2 -- Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili.
Judge # 3 -- I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unableto taste it. Is it possible to burn out taste buds? Sally, the beermaid, was standing behind me with fresh refills. That 300-LB womanis starting to look HOT...just like this nuclear waste I'm eating! Is chili an aphrodisiac?

CHILI # 5 LISA'S LEGAL LIP REMOVER

Judge # 1 -- Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick. Very impressive.
Judge # 2 -- Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
Judge # 3 -- My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I can no longer focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher. I wonder if I'm burning my lips off. It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Screw those rednecks.

CHILI # 6 - VERA'S VERY VEGETARIAN VARIETY

Judge # 1 -- Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spices and peppers.
Judge # 2 -- The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and garlic. Superb.
Judge # 3 -- My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames. I shit on myself when I farted and I'm worried it will eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that Sally. Can't feel my lips anymore. I need to wipe my ass with a snow cone.

CHILI # 7 - SUSAN'S SCREAMING SENSATION CHILI

Judge # 1 -- A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
Judge # 2 -- Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment. **I should take note that I am worried about Judge # 3. He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is cursing uncontrollably.
Judge # 3 -- You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn't feel a thing. I've lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds like it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili, which slid unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava to match my shirt. At least during the autopsy, they'll know what killed me. I've decided to stop breathing it's too painful. Screw it; I'm not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I'll just suck it in through the 4-inch hole in my stomach.

CHILI # 8 - BIG TOM'S TOENAIL CURLING CHILI

Judge # 1 -- The perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili. Not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
Judge # 2 -- This final entry is a good, balanced chili. Neither mild nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge #3 farted, passed out, fell over and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself. Not sure if he's going to make it. Poor feller, wonder how he'd have reacted to really hot chili?
Judge # 3 - No Report

Curling commentary

I haven't watched much of the Olympics, but it was on this morning, and the remote was too far away for me to change the channel.

So that brings me to my topic of the day. Men's Curling.

This is a really strange sport. If I were an alien watching humans do this activity, it could not be any weirder to me.

First of all, there is some giant ball that a man slides slowly down the ice. Slowly? A man doing a sport S-L-O-W-L-Y???

Then two men swoop in from either side and begin gently sweeping the ice around the ball as it slides forward. Again... gently?

Finally, the men become so concerned about the debris on the ice that they begin sweeping furiously in a concerted effort to make the ice smooth. Concern? About debris?

Who are these men, and where do they train? Perhaps I can get Daniel interested if I convince him that it is a "sport."

A Valentine Story

There must be something in my eyes when I look at him, or in the way I walk past him. Because he knows.

His whole demeanor changes, and I can see a spark of passion in his eyes. He smiles sweetly, cause he knows he is going to get what he wants.

I have learned that the best thing to do at this point is to get us both as naked as possible, and quickly! It doesn't take long to get what he wants, but it is not a pretty sight. The evidence of the event will have to be scrubbed away long after he has been satisfied. We will both collapse, exhausted by the effort we have put forth.

What can I say?

The boy loves his cereal.

The lights are down low except for a lone spotlight that shines on the stage. She sits at the piano and begins to play a song, her voice carrying a familiar melody over the crowd. Fans hold up modern day lighters, which are just open cell phones putting forth their electric glow. Up until that moment, it could be any other concert. Any other performer and any other group of fans.

Then from behind me, I hear the tiny, sweet voice of a child. She is in the first grade and she is excited to be here. She hums along with the song, then she begins to sing. Not the words of the song, but her own accompaniment.

"Holy, holy, holy, Jesus..."

Oh, to have childlike faith and eyes filled with wonder, unhardened by the world.

Quote of the day

Heard on a television commercial for an asthma medication:

"...rare, but SERIOUS, asthma-related fatalities may occur..."

Not to be confused with those not-so-serious fatalities.

Happy Valentine's Day to Me!

I am so excited! Thank you, to my sweetie!

Also, if you haven't heard of Casting Crowns (Lifesong, Who am I, If We are the Body) or Nichole Nordeman (Brave, Legacy, This Mystery) you should go visit their sites and listen!

Distorted body image

Dillon is teething with a fury. Everything goes in his mouth, and he really likes to have his gums rubbed. It is funny to watch, but everyone who holds him ends up with wet patches on their clothes from all the gumming he does.

The other night, Daniel was holding him, and Dillon was chewing Daniel's shoulder.

This is what my husband said:

"He likes to chew on this bone in my shoulder because it is so hard."

This might make you think that Daniel is a boney man with protruding clavicles.

I leaned over and looked closely at his shoulder, and I have to disagree. I do not think you can find the bones in his shoulders unless you have some surgical equipment. I think Dillon likes to chew his shoulder simply because it is THERE.

I saw the sign

Pregnant women and new moms all wear a special sign. It is invisible to the wearer, but those around her can sometimes see it. The sign reads as follows:

I am pregnant or a new mother.

Please tell me everything that comes into your mind regarding either:

a) your children

b) your friends' children

c) various childbirth experiences you have heard about or had, even scary ones

d) how things were done in the "old days"

e) random wives tales and superstitions

f) what you think I should do with my child, regardless of whether I have asked or not.

I just attended the baby shower of an old high school friend. I brought Dillon with me. There was another young mother there and another very pregnant guest.

Everyone's brains short circuited at the sight. All of those signs! So much advice to give! It was an absolute beehive of activity and voices.

I have to admit that I even had to bite my tongue to keep from overwhelming the others with my own stories and ideas. I thought through all of my knowledge (because I have been a mother all of four-and-a-half months now) and decided on two benign pieces of advice that were worthy of repeating.

We played games and talked, and it was a nice shower. I got up to get some punch, and... OOPS! I thought of something else I forgot to tell her about parenting in general!

I was packing Dillon's stuff to go, and I remembered that I am also a good resource for advice on post-partum depression, so I decided to throw that out there, too.

I picked up Dillon's carrier, hugged my friend, and headed for the door. Then I remembered that, since Dillon doesn't poop regularly, she might need to know what I do for that. Oh, and his mild reflux. And, of course, the eczema. OH! And sleeping through the night! And bathtime. Yep. She's gotta know what to do about bathtime.

Before I knew it, I was in my car. The last few moments of the shower were a blur as I charged around with arms loaded down, shouting imperative advice over my shoulder. I don't really like the term "verbal diarrhea" but that is exactly what it was.

You see, holding in the advice doesn't work. It will come out in normal conversation, and if not, it will come out in one big deranged tirade.

But I feel much better now. And I know that she, too, will be able to see all those signs soon enough, and she will know exactly what I am talking about.

Just in case you don't have time to read all of my archives, here is a short version, taken from Tracey, who took it from someone else.

All's well...

My schedule is packed. But only certain hours of the day. The mornings? W I D E O P E N. Afternoons? Not so much. I have to be in three places at once. After only two days of this, I was ready to quit SOMETHING so I could relax.

I couldn't quit school. I couldn't quit being a mom. I couldn't quit cleaning my house. Obviously, I couldn't quit blogging. So guess what I quit?

My diet!

Good idea, huh? Now I can eat when I am anxious, which is all the time. I have my vice back! And probably the three-and-a-half pounds I lost, too.