A Family Legacy

Yesterday while I was helping Mom with Christmas preparations she uttered an exasperated, "Golly day!" I smiled, because that's a phrase that before I met my friend Brittany in high school had never been said before in my family. Now Mom says it, I say it, Maggie says it, and even Ben says it. It caused me to think about the other things I've picked up from friends over the years. It took me a good five years or so to quit calling everybody honey thanks to my mission pal, Aniesa. Then after her recent visit I was at it again. I called Dad honey, Ben's friend Edward honey, and who knows who else. Then Mom said crap and I asked her about that one. I thought I'd picked it up from a childhood friend because I remember Mom harping on me for saying it in front of her. Mom corrected that misconception, telling me she'd said it for years. Not only that, but Grandma had been particularly fond of saying it, to the point that her yearbook quote was, "Oh, crap!"

Ah, crap, a family tradition for three generations. If Grandma were still around I'd give her a big hug.

Henry's Incredible Lego Haul

Yes, he got his precious "A-boat" and a few other Lego sets as well. He wanted to take some to Papaw's house, but Ben said no and told him that there were rats there who liked to eat legos. I'm not sure if Henry really believed it, but at any rate the legos stayed home. I pretty much forgot about Ben's little lie until Henry opened his present from Grandma and Papaw and wanted to assemble his legos. Ben wanted to wait until we got home so nothing would accidentally get left behind. Henry countered with, "There are no rats in here!"

For Your Viewing Pleasure

Too bad the video cut off Henry's awesome comeback: "No, it's not!"

Here It Is: The Christmas Card Blog

Okay, people, due to extreme sloth this year, this year's Christmas Card is online. It probably would have been better to go get a portrait made and all, but when you've been procrastinating like I have lately... Anyway, here it is:

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Love, The Tilleys

And the exciting 2008 Update on everything that's been going on, etc:

This year's been pretty much the same as last year. We're still in the Spanish branch at church, still driving the same old car, doing the same old routine. Ben's been working hard at his job as a computer programmer, and playing video games and hanging out with his family in his free time. The annual beard is back, but this year he's decided to keep it neat so wifey doesn't have much to complain about. Sarah's still doing the stay-at-home mom thing, keeping Henry alive and entertained. She's going on her fourth year as an assistant den leader in cub scouts, plus somehow got roped into being the choir director at church-- this should end well. She's also stayed busy teaching Joy School to Henry and his friends. Henry's growing up fast, learning his ABC's and 123's. He's gotten good at writing his name and is looking forward to turning five this February and starting kindergarten next fall. He's completely devoted to all things boy now, which includes shunning the "girl" aisle in the toy store, although it's still okay to play with his girlfriends. Henry has officially become a Lego addict and has declared that he shall work for Lego Star Wars when he grows up. Dori the cat is as fat as ever, despite having had eleven teeth extracted. She likes to eat bugs and knock Legos under the tv cabinet, throw up her cat food, and snuggle in warm laps. It's been a great year and we're looking forward to another great one.

Love you all!

Henry Vs. Christmas

Henry's had his eye on a certain Lego product for a while now: a speedboat with an A printed across its noble prow (or whatever you call that part). He's determined he must have it, his precious "A-boat", and spent several minutes salivating over it in the toy aisle with me while Ben snuck off to covertly buy Henry's presents. He is, of course, getting this for Christmas. What kid wouldn't want a Lego set that comes with a cool speedboat, a damsel in distress, her daring rescuer, an evil genius ala Jaws from the James Bond movies, and sharks with frickin' lasers attached to their heads. The other day Henry decided that he must have the "A-boat" right away without delay. I explained that Christmas was coming really soon and that he'd have to wait and see if Santa brought him what he wanted. Henry by virtue of being a kid, decided this waiting stuff was for the birds. So ensued an hour-long debate, Henry pro Get the Lego set Now, me on the opposing side. An approximation of how it went down:

Henry: Mom, I'm stuck on the A-boat.

Me: That's great, Henry. But you have to wait until Christmas.

Henry: Hey, I got it! How about we buy it!

Me: (Suppressing laughter because he's so dang cute) We're not going to the store today. You'll have to wait until Christmas.

Henry: I hate Christmas! Christmas blows!

Me: Seriously, you can't say blows. You say that again and I'm banning the Simpsons. (I've already banned Family Guy.)

Henry: Okay. Sorry. I hate Christmas!

Me: You don't hate Christmas, you hate waiting for Christmas so you can get your Legos.

Henry: Mom, you've got one choice (holding up two fingers). I get the A-boat or you get in trouble!

Me: Sustained Laughter.

And so on.

Henry has decided the worst thing in the world to get for Christmas is socks and underwear. I keep threatening to get him some if he doesn't stop whining about the A-boat; that usually shuts him up. It's nice to have a verbal weapon other than the threat of time out or spanking.

While Ben was napping the other day I whispered to Henry, "What should we get Daddy for Christmas?"

Henry whispered back, "Underwear!"

Because Everyone Needs Closure

Yes, the bird carcass has vacated the tree. It's neither hanging upside down from the branch, nor is it festering on the ground beneath the branch, so we can assume one of two things: something ate it (blechhh!) or it flew its zombie self south for the winter. I'm going for the zombie angle myself.

Wonders Never Cease

Yesterday while I was busily occupied with something other than housework, Henry told me he cleaned his room. I received this information with little doubt as to the truth of his statement; I knew he believed he cleaned his room but I was under the impression that it was "clean" according to Henry, i.e., he'd picked up a few things or made his bed. So I got up and followed him to his room that I might give positive reinforcement to a voluntary, unprompted act of cleanliness.

His room was clean. I was floored.

Check it out:



High five, buddy!

My Butt Has Finally Thawed

Today, being Monday, was park day, so Henry and I dutifully walked to the park. Apparently everyone else in the world thought it was too cold to be out. The park was deserted, so we walked the greenway and went over the highway to the other "dragon" park. I was really surprised because this one was desolate as well. I honestly didn't think it was that cold, except for my ears. We played a while and Henry had his snack and I decided since we were so close we'd walk over to the grocery store across the street and buy a bag of oranges. So we did, stopping first at a toy store. On the way home, walking on the trail beneath the power lines, Henry munched M&M's and went into million-question mode.

"Mom, why are trees green?"

I explained about chlorophyll as efficiently as I could.

"Mom, I love you."

"I love you, too."

Then it was fifteen other questions, I'd answer and Henry would tell me he loved me.

I guess he was prepping me for when we got home and it was time to clean his room and he decided he was going to be lazy. That's what he always says when I tell him to clean up: "But Mom, I'm lazy. I want to be a slob."

Gee, wonder where he got that from.

Anyway, it occurred to me that perhaps it had been a bit nippy to be out when I noticed four hours later when Ben got home that my butt was still cold from our outdoor excursion.

On a side note, tonight we did a little Christmas shopping at a certain electronics store Ben loves. As we were lining up to make our purchases, Henry was standing in the aisle staring at something on a display when an employee came strolling along looking everywhere but four-year-old level and slammed right into him. It was a sight to behold, what with the tall, skinny guy practically doing a cartwheel as he tripped over Henry, then grabbing him as he fell in what I can only assume was a defensive move to keep Henry from hitting his head on the floor. Henry was okay and I might have laughed (it looked hilarious to me) but the guy hurt his finger so I didn't.

Are Y'all Serious?

Since there have been actual requests of a photographic evidence:



And:



Yes, these photos were taken this morning. After yesterday's failed attempt to disentangle the bird from the branch. Vigorous shaking of the tree branch whipped the bird all over the place and sent feathers flying, but had no effect on the cold dead claw. We even resorted to two rakes. I was quite literally hanging off of the metal garden rake hooked onto the branch trying to bend it enough to where Ben could get within whacking range. Note in the first photo the scarring just visible on the branch near the bird. Ben broke several tines off the plastic rake trying to knock the carcass off. Whack and shake as we might, the bird insists upon rotting in the open air.

Dead Bird Update...

Because I know you're all on the edge of your seats wanting to know if the carcass has dropped yet.

Nope. The carcass, or Rotten Robin, as I like to call him (or Rotting Robin, if you prefer), is still clutching a death grip, literally, on the branch. Ben went out at my request today to knock it out of the tree so I wouldn't have to watch the magic of decomposition every time I looked out the window. Unfortunately the bird is a little out of rake range, so Ben had to shake the tree limb instead. He shook and he shook and he shook, and the bird flopped around as much as rigor mortis would allow, but absolutely would not come off the branch.

Ick. Here's hoping tomorrow's attempt fares better.

X-Mas Happenin's

That star is GARBAGE! (Fah la la la lah, la la la laaaaahhh!)

We put the Christmas tree up last night. Or rather the top half of it. The tree's really about six feet, but since the stand broke we had to get another one and it's a Walmart value at about $7.50, and having any kind of expectation of the shoddy piece o' junk holding up the whole thing is a bit much. As it stands now, with only the top half to support, it's a little unstable at best, and we can only pray the cat doesn't climb back up there and knock it over again. While we were out for a stand we decided to purchase a star for the tree per Henry's request. I guess the "Black Friday" madness (which I happily avoided) must've cleared out the shelves at Wally World, for pickin's was slim. The choices were: broken plastic star that blinked; non-broken plastic star that blinked blue and green; ugly trailer-trash multi-light, gold tinsel adorned star; and hideous twin of before mentioned star in silver tinsel. I'd gladly have posted pictures of said choices, but apparently Walmart is too embarrassed to showcase such cheapo hud on the internets. Anyway, I opted for the non-broken star that blinked, because honestly, although I didn't really give a crap since we've done without a star for nine years, I couldn't bring myself to even touch the tinsel twins. Then today, after Joy School was blissfully over, Henry looks up at the tree and whined, "That star is garbage! I wanted the other star with the lights!"

The Curse Continues...

As I was sitting down to read a book this afternoon my gaze wandered to the colorful fall leaves dappled with sunlight just outside my window. Then something unusual caught my attention. There in the ornamental pear tree situated before the house, far out on a limb, dangling upside down by forces unknown, hung a dead bird. I know this bird was dead because I watched it with interest for some time, waiting for it to right itself, which it never did. As I looked up from my book from time to time I noticed the tree stayed devoid of living birds for a while, which was kind of creepy. Like being in a movie where there's this ominous dead bird hanging upside down from a tree for no discernible reason. Then after a while smaller, living birds flew over and started eating the little pears, happily ignoring the dead carcass, and then flew away, presumably over to the oak tree where they perched from on high and crapped on my car like they've been doing for the past three weeks. Stupid birds. If the dead bird's still there in the morning I'm taking a picture. Weirdest thing I ever saw.

Thanksgiving

Wednesday we drove down to my parents' and luxuriated in idleness for a while. Ben was sick and napped on the couch. Poor guy; it seems like anytime he gets a long weekend off he gets sick. But instead of staying at home and sleeping all day he decided to be a good sport and do that at Mom and Dad's. While he slept and Henry played I made a pumpkin cheesecake, my contribution to the Thanksgiving feast. Then Dad and Beth made a huge vat of fudge (literally there was thirty-something pounds of it) and once it was poured out into cookie sheets to set, all the kids got a spoon and went to town on the ginormous pot. I also got to hang out and chat with Mom and Maggie. And I managed to read Little House in the Big Woods.

I was going to read Little House on the Prairie the next day, but Ben and I ended up going shooting in the woods instead. There next to a fallen tree two pumpkins were summarily dispatched, as well as several cans formerly containing ingredients to various pies made that morning. As we were walking back to the house through the woods we came out by the pond and saw Dad yanking a beaver lodge out with his tractor and this rusty old hinged claw-thingy on a rope. So we decided to lend a hand and manned the big kayak and helped insofar as we were able. Mostly we splashed stinky cold water all over ourselves trying to tow branches away from the island the beaver invaded to the shore where Dad was making a huge pile of sticks he'd already dislodged. Had the beavers not chewed down just about every tree around the pond and wrecked the island I'd probably have felt a little sorry for them. Dad suggested a beaver hunt for that night, and as tempted as I was to camp out at night in a kayak waiting for beavers to sneak out of the broken lodge, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to shoot one. Killing pumpkins is one thing, beavers are too dang cute. I'd feel way too guilty. I think it'd be fun to stalk them, though. Before our little beaver lodge demolition was over Ben had smacked me in the head with his paddle and my shirt was covered in stinky pond scum and mud (and probably beaver poo). So I had just enough time to wash up change back into my clothes from Wednesday and then help Mom make mashed potatoes. Henry, the little gourmand, refused to eat anything but the rolls Beth made. He did try a little bit of pumpkin pie and surprise, surprise, he didn't like it. Weirdo.

All in all, a good Thanksgiving.

Me Being Slightly Creative

My sister took some art classes in college and when she was done she gave me all her art supplies, plus the all the paintings she'd done with express permission, or rather a mandate, that I paint over them. I finally got around to feeling artsy sometime this summer and picked out the big canvas with the old naked long-haired bearded man sitting on a stool and decided my first attempt at painting since high school should be for Henry. Henry wanted a space ship in outer space, so that's what I did. The result, after months of stop and go, is now hanging in Henry's room.



And now, having accomplished this I can finally put the paints back in the attic until I start feeling ambitious again.

Autumn And Stuff

It's fall hereabouts. I suck at taking pictures, but I thought the neighbor's yard looked cool. My yard's not as interesting, since we mostly have nothing but ugly brown oak trees. So many acorns fell this year that you can just about roller skate on them. Actual closeup shot of my yard:



Well, that's about it. Unless you wanted to see the backyard. In that case, here it is:



Oh, and Henry bids you adieu:

Halloween

Awesome title, I know. Yes, Halloween came and went. Henry wanted to be Anakin Skywalker. He couldn't find his blue lightsaber, so he had to use his red one and go as the "bad Anakin." Wouldn't you know it, I try to take a couple photos of Henry in his Halloween garb and the camera's battery craps out before I can get a decent shot. Here are the two best, if you can believe it:



And:



One would think he'd be slightly more enthusiastic since he was preparing for a night of unbridled sugar consumption. But then again, he did have a slight cold. The last one gives me a vague impression of a Picasso, what with the goofy lopsided fake smile and the slightly cockeyed look. Also, his hair reminds me of Ralph Wiggam from the Simpsons.

Saturday we got to visit Grandpa and Grandma Tilley. It was a beautiful day and Ben and I found ourselves napping on the porch while Henry ran amok with the grandparents. A nice, nice visit. Plus we were treated to a barbecue lunch at one of the baptist churches in the area. Henry was a weasel and didn't want to try anything but a few hush puppies and dessert. I decided to try a piece of pumpkin pie- at least I thought that's what it was. It was the orangest pie I've ever seen. There weren't any spices in it and it didn't even taste like pumpkin, just thick, pasty sugar. That made me so sad. I want a real pumpkin pie. Henry wants me to make a pie out of the pumpkin adorning the front porch, but I told him I only make pumpkin pie from a can; I am the Queen of Laziness, after all. Our pumpkin is slated for a grisly death next weekend. Yes, I'm going to shoot it to pieces. And as a token of respect for the gourd that must be blown up by assault rifles, I will save some seeds from its carcass and give them to Mom and Dad to plant for next year. It's the circle of life, you know...

EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS?!!!!!!!

All right, nine hundred and sixty-five dollars, including the initial check-up.

Because the phone was out, the vet could not contact me to inform me that they would be extracting ELEVEN teeth from my cat's head. I figured when they told me her mouth was in nasty shape that they'd probably have to give her a shot or something, but eleven teeth? Dori's only four years old. My other cat Bubbette lived sixteen years and never had to have her teeth cleaned, so it never occurred to me that Dori was prone to hereditary mouth rot. Since the original estimate was about four hundred dollars, you can quite well imagine the shock of learning that it was more than double. They gave me a little pill bottle full of her teeth, which by the way were disgusting. I shook the teeth in the bottle. What was I supposed to do with her nasty teeth? Stick them under my pillow and hope the tooth fairy would bring me a check for eight hundred bucks? I was tempted, just slightly.

The time between picking up the cat from the vet and Ben coming home yesterday was a trifle tense. On the way home I muttered to myself about how Ben was going to have a cow.

Henry asked, "Is Daddy going to go to the farmer place and get a cow and put it in the back yard?"

No, Daddy's going to get really mad and probably yell a lot...

Ben met us at the Halloween carnival at church where I informed him of the damages. I'm glad we were at church as it limited all sorts of things he might have said in a less holy place. He took it a lot better than I thought he would.

I guess it worked out well for Dori. If the phone had been working she'd still have a mouth full of rotten teeth.

One good thing: the phone line I cut did absolutely nothing to damage the phone. A stupid chunk in the phone lines outside corroded. And the phone guy didn't charge us anything. Earlier I'd seen a phone company truck over at the neighbor's house, but didn't think anything of it. So this whole time I was stressing about being a huge idiot over a complete coincidence.

I ought to call the old lady at the phone company back and tell her that no, stupid genes do not run in my family, but then I'd have to explain why Ben went to eat at White Castle. Of course, he only did it on a personal dare (White Castle is mentioned in a Beastie Boys song), and he hated it. I laughed at him because he ate all four of the little turd-burgers but he insisted he did so out of principle because, after all, he paid for them.

Yes, I'm Still Alive, But For How Long????

I've been absent from the whole blogging thing a while. Apparently the month of October is my busiest, even worse than the month of December when we have to visit every living relative in the state of North Carolina within the span of a few days. I started out the month with high hopes (they always start out that way, don't they) and halfway through it I'm wondering what the heck I was even thinking.

I think I'll just list an itinerary:

Oct 3: Drive 2 hours with Henry. Hang out with Maggie, buy each other birthday gifts. Make appearance at old childhood friend's wedding reception. Develop cough, lose voice by end of evening.

Oct 4: Birthday. 33 years old. Spend all day in bed fighting losing battle against sinus infection/chest cold. Ben cleans kitchen. Yeah! :)

Oct 7: My week to teach Joy School. Canceled Joy School for week due to freaking lingering cold. Went to cub scouts, regretted decision, should have stayed in bed.

Oct 8: Doctor.

Oct 11: Mom and Dad's for annual fall cookout/hayride. Still coughing, can't wallow all over baby nephew.

Oct 14: Joy School canceled due to sick kid. Spend all day in giddy anticipation of arrival of mission pal Aniesa (Nielson). Skip cub scouts, meet Aniesa for dinner, have fun, really regret shortness of visit, wish the world weren't so big, lament unhappy fate of not being a millionaire or having access to free travel.

Oct 15: Aniesa stops by to see house, Henry, was impressed by trees. Took Henry to park for play date with friend.

Oct 16-19: Feed/entertain neighbors 6 cats and 2 dogs 3/4 times per diem. Took cat, Dori to vet, okay except moderate to severe dental disease. Set up appointment for necessary teeth cleaning, anticipate bill $300+.

Oct 19: Henry's part in Primary presentation in Sacrament Meeting allows me to hear English at church. Brain says ahhhhhhhhh...

Oct 20: On whim purchase small Lego set for Henry while on trip to Walmart. Henry plays with Legos all day. On way to bed after midnight, discover Henry in room quietly playing with Legos. Forcible removal of Legos, Henry goes to sleep.

Oct 21: Teach Joy School. Maggie arrives with nephew, Wesley. I wallow all over Wesley. Massive organization/clean up commences under direction of Maggie. Go to cub scouts, come home and commence clean up. Bed at 1 am following long yak session.

Oct 22: Visit to radiology department for fun-filled HSG. Lunch. Mow lawn, clean litter box. Goodbye to Maggie. 8 pm arrives, realize phone line is dead, due to idiot decision to sever broken phone jack from wire sticking up out of bedroom floor serving only as tripping hazard these past five years... Confess, deal with Ben's unhappiness, go fish phone jack out of trash.

To do: call phone company to fix phone line, reschedule dental appointment for next month, see about taking cat to vet school to save $, plan Joy School lesson, fix Henry's Halloween costume, don't touch anything or do anything stupid in hopes of not causing another huge money sucking catastrophe.

Overall, this month has been a good one, all except for today's idiotfest. I'm freaking lucky the internet still works in spite of the damaged phone line, lucky that Ben for the most part has spared me his wrath, lucky that I finally got over my stupid cold.

Man, I'm tired.

Tagged again!

I accidentally got myself tagged by trying to reply to a comment (I think I was lured there on purpose).

Anyway here's how it goes:

Tag: take pictures of the following right now. No staging!

1. Kitchen sink. Oh, boy. Good thing I "cleaned up" last night.



2. Toilet. Not too bad. I won't tell you what prevented me from taking a photo of the other one. (Thanks, Henry.)



3. Laundry Room. We don't have a laundry room, just a spot in the kitchen. I'm in the middle of a project right now (not laundry) so it's a little messy.



4. Fridge. There used to be more food in it but we ate it.



5. Family members. Henry's the only one here. Sans clothes, his usual state.



6. Closet. Eh, heh, er. I guess it's that time of the year again when Maggie needs to stop by and help me reorganize.



7. Favorite room. The uselessly small room at the top of the stairs we converted into the computer room.



8. Favorite shoes. My tennies. If I could get away with wearing these to church I would. Note the neat shoe basket- the only organization I've been able to maintain (mostly because I pick up everyone's shoes and throw them in there).



9. Self portrait. I had to take a lot of shots to get this one.



So, to be nice, I'm not tagging anyone in particular, but if you so feel inclined to participate, just feel glad your house is not as messy as mine.

Why exactly is it that I hate Mondays?

Yeah, Monday, the day after Sunday. Mondays are play date at the park days. Every Monday Henry and I walk a half mile to the park down the road. Henry plays with his friends while I sit in a convenient shady spot and hang out with mine. I'm good for any adult conversations that come my way. After hours of listening to Henry spouting off random gibberish in his spotty four year old English, my brain tends to shut off and I find myself replying, "Yeah, that's great, Henry." He's even given me a new gibberish name and if I could only remember it I'm sure I could hold my own against any Sumerian god. So adult conversation is very precious to me, especially on weeks where I have to teach Joy School. Such as this week. So when Henry asked if we could go to the "dragon" park instead, I said no, I wanted to see my friends. He was a little annoyed, but too bad, this is my brain we're talking about. Two hours later I started herding him home. We took the shortcut back through the woods instead of walking back up the street and Henry headed towards the greenway trail trying to make one last ditch effort to go to the other park across the highway. I said no and he had a screeching cow. We were in a little clearing above the park next to the woods behind our house. I'm sure everyone within a mile thought I was murdering him out there. It'd be the perfect place for it, too. So he pitched a fit the entire way home. Two houses from home he refused to go any further so I had to carry him, kicking and screaming that he doesn't like me anymore, all the neighbors probably thinking, this is the kid who'll be terrorizing the neighborhood in five or ten years because of his mother's complete ineptitude in discipline. Which is sad because he's usually a pretty cool kid. Anyway, once I got him wrestled in the front door he got a nice stay in time out.

Maggie called right about the time he commenced further protestations and reaffirming his desire to have another mom. What, Mugablugoth (or whatever it was) not good enough for ya anymore? Finally he calmed down and sat down on the couch beside me for a make up snuggle.

"I like you, Mom."

Alright, score one for Mugablugoth.

When Ben got home I started plans for Family Home Evening lesson and found a 3-D wooden dinosaur puzzle Mom gave Henry for Christmas that I'd forgotten. So Henry and I sat at the table and started working on it. First thing I broke one of the pieces trying to extract it from the cheapo wood it was cut from. I guess that's what tape is for. After I finally figured out how the thing fit together we constructed a flimsy skeleton of some creature with four big flippers and what I only could deduce was an extra spine and ribcage stretching between its front and rear pelvises. I'm not sure how accurate the model was, but Henry thought it looked cool.

Then we had an early FHE lesson and I walked Henry down to his precious "dragon" park while Ben stayed home. About seven houses up there's a little foot path through the woods that leads down to the park and greenway leading to pedestrian bridge over the highway. The bridge is nice because we can walk to the other park now instead of driving. Every time I walk over it I can't help looking down at the eight lanes of speeding traffic, chewing on little morbid morsels, such as, "Gee, if we were walking down there we'd have been flattened about ten times by now." Although I'm a huge chicken when it comes to heights, the bridge has absolutely no effect on me. I suppose if there weren't a huge chain link cage around it it'd be a different story. The whole way Henry was singing the forest song from the Legend of Zelda Nintendo game he plays all the time. It was a nice walk, what with things cooling off, relatively low humidity, and the bazillion yellow flowers blooming where a huge swath had been cut out of the woods to accommodate power lines. The "dragon" park (Henry calls it that because of a big concrete sea serpent thing sticking out of a hill) is an exhausting one for me, mostly because it's got three sand box areas, a huge jungle gym/tunnel thingy, another ramp and slide thing, a bathroom/picnic table shelter, buttloads of sight-inhibiting trees and bushes, and hundreds of kids running all over the place, so I literally have to stalk Henry whenever we go there or I'll never see him again. I've actually lost him there a couple of times and it really made me consider implanting a GPS chip in his skull. We only got to stay about twenty minutes because I wanted to get home around six. Although Henry wanted to stay, he didn't go all psycho on me like he did this afternoon. On the walk back we almost got run over by a pair bicyclists who said hey before they zoomed off at mach 4 and I recognized them as an older couple from church (they have kids around my age). They're both really friendly and super fit and make me feel even more slovenly than usual. In fact she's the one my sister said had great boobs (this said indiscreetly during Relief Society when said great-boobed fit chick was doing an excellent job teaching the lesson, embarrassing the crap out of me).

When we got home I was happy to see Ben had decided to cook dinner for us. A grilled cheese sandwich for Henry, cool. For us, a big steaming bowl of homemade beanie-wienies. Not so cool. I forbore from eating as long as I could but I was hungry from the walk, so I reluctantly finished off what Ben hadn't eaten, baked beans out of the can nuked in the microwave with four glorious hot dog nuggets floating in the brown sludge. I supplemented my decadent dinner with the last piece of leftover frozen lasagna even though I'd already eaten some for lunch. Ben redeemed himself by emptying the dishwasher for me.

Ack. Tomorrow I get to teach Joy School. Joy.

7's

I got tagged by that naked chick, so here goes:

7 THINGS I PLAN TO DO BEFORE I DIE:

1. Stop being so lazy.
2. Not live in a filthy pig slob dump (that may have something to do with being me lazy, but it also involves two male residents of this household who shall remain nameless).
3. Get the house fixed up sufficiently so that I'm not always waiting for the next catastrophic failure of some important expensive thing.
4. Have more kids.
5. Go on vacation somewhere out of the state of North Carolina.
6. Finish college.
7. Adapt a more healthy lifestyle, i.e., exercise.

7 THINGS I CAN DO:

1. Read whilst ignoring the chaos around me.
2. Draw and paint.
3. Lay and grout tile.
4. Whittle with a pocket knife.
5. Patiently endure the seven millionth viewing of Polar Express or Thomas and Friends.
6. Hold a 30 foot ladder with my eyes shut so Ben can clean the gutters.
7. Make a decent pie.

7 THINGS I CANNOT DO:

1. Watch Ben climb a 30 foot latter.
2. Remember any of my math classes from high school.
3. Sit through a bad movie without verbally ripping it to shreds.
4. Eat raw onions or tomatoes.
5. Pack Henry in the car and go without having to run back inside for at least one forgotten item.
6. Design a cold fusion machine.
7. Pole vault.

7 THINGS THAT ATTRACT ME TO THE OPPOSITE SEX:

1. Good sense of humor.
2. A clean shaven upper lip (I hope Ben reads this).
3. Assertiveness.
4. Willing to work hard even if he doesn't have to.
5. Patience.
6. Good with kids.
7. Polite.

7 THINGS I SAY MOST OFTEN:

1. Crap.
2. Henry!
3. Ben!
4. Stop it right now.
5. Go to bed.
6. Stay in bed.
7. If you get out of bed one more time I swear I'm going to lose it!

7 CELEBRITY ADMIRATIONS- I don't necessarily admire them but like something about them:

1. Jamie Lee Curtis- she's all old and all and she doesn't care.
2. Dolly Parton- she's all old and all and she gets tons of plastic surgery but doesn't care what people think.
3. Christopher Walken- he's funny.
4. That chick who played LaFawnduh in Napoleon Dynamite.
5. James Taylor- not that I especially like his music, but he's bald and hasn't tried to hide it.
6. Fran Drescher
7. Billy Barty

7 FAVORITE FOODS (I had to limit these to the things I absolutely couldn't turn down even if I'd just eaten and was completely full):

1. Blueberry Pie.
2. Homemade chicken pot pie.
3. My mom's enchiladas.
4. Fresh out the oven homemade bread.
5. A nice ripe peach.
6. Fettucini alfredo from Ragazzi's (but not the one in Cary because they're nasty).
7. Keilbasa.

7 PEOPLE WHO NEED TO DO THIS:

Kiki, Sally, Angela, Naomi, Alyn, um, do I even know seven people? Anyway, you know who you are!

Saturday is a special day... it's the day we bail water out of the basement

First off, we are now sans cat number two. The neighbor's cat wasn't coping in our environment (i.e., she wouldn't willingly go downstairs so we couldn't move her litter box to the basement) so Ben took her back to the neighbors'. I have recouped a small smidgen of sanity. No more upstairs litter box, no more stressed new cat to worry about. And Dori's back to her bloated complacent marshmallow self.

Yeah, so Hurricane (or was it tropical storm?) Hanna visited our neighborhood Friday night. Not too much wind, but we got about five inches of rain. Ben and I spent a few minutes in preparation on Friday rolling up carpets and stacking everything on the couches and moved them to the center of the basement. So Saturday morning Ben went down there to check things out and of course the basement had flooded. This has happened at least two times before. A couple years ago we caulked up the floor around the wall where it leaked before and that stopped one leak. While we were sweeping the water out the basement door we could see two or three spots on the other wall near the floor where water was squirting in. Makes me wonder how much water had backed up behind the basement wall. At least we know now where the other leaks are, so hopefully before the next deluge we'll have it fixed.

By Satuday afternoon it had stopped raining and the basement had stopped flooding, so we went out and visited Ben's grandparents. Around four we walked down to their neighborhood park for one of Henry's friend's birthday party. It was nice and sunny and super humid. Ben brought his grandparents' dog with us. She's this morbidly obese poodle/Jack Russel terrier hybrid, what I think people call a jackapoo. Ben tried to run with her on a leash once and I think she almost had a heart attack after about fifty yards. Henry took the leash and led the dog up the play ground equipment and took her down the slide with him a few times. Then Ben took her back to his grandparents' so she could return to eating and lazing around and borrowed a walkman so he could listen to the NC State football game. I told him he didn't need a radio- he could know how bad they were doing by just listening to the boos and collective forehead slaps of the spectators at the stadium down the road. Henry had a lot of fun, ate a hot dog and candy and cake, and got to smack a pinata.

Today was nice because we're back on the morning shift at church. Every September our Branch shifts schedules with the two other wards meeting in our building. So for the past two years we've been on the sacrament-meeting-last schedule, which really wears me out because Henry has already been trying to behave for primary and his Sunbeam class, so sacrament was almost always a huge trial. Today, as we will from now on until next year, we had sacrament meeting first. I was very happy because Henry was very good for the most part. The about ten minutes into the gospel doctrine class I was asked to sit with Henry in Primary because he was acting up. Then he didn't want to go to his sunbeam class and cried and pitched a fit, so I brought him with me to Relief Society. I warned him it would be boring for him because everything was in Spanish but he didn't care. I figured he'd want to leave after a few minutes and rejoin his class, but he didn't. He sat there very nicely beside me and I didn't have to say a thing or make him sit in my lap or anything. In fact he was all cuddly and cute. I figured he must be getting sick or something, but as soon as we got home he stripped down to his underwear and started running amok. Probably the time shift has messed with his internal craziness clock. Oh, well. We'll see what happens next week.

I doubt they'll ever be snuggly, but at least there's been no bloodshed.

Coco, the cat. The polar opposite of Dori: thin, athletic, and claw happy.

New Addition?

A couple weeks ago the neighbors adopted a couple new kittens. This would have absolutely no bearing on my life whatsoever, save for when I go over there when they're out of town to clean litter boxes and let their two dogs out. Except that they talked Ben into taking one of their cats that wasn't enjoying the loss of space (it's one of six cats and two dogs living under one roof with two humans). Ben's always wanted a Siamese cat so I relented, under the same stipulation that went along with our other inside only cat, i.e., Ben has litter box duty. We took her on a trial basis because we had misgivings about how our cat Dori would react, having been queen of the domicile these past four years. To be honest, we didn't want her going psycho like our first cat, the one we had before Dori.

Yes, for those of you who don't know, Ben and I were the owners of a psycho kitty. It was our first real pet, aside from the goldfish somebody gave us for Christmas one year that died after a few days. Since Ben had never in his whole life gotten to name a pet, I let him name her Smeagol. You, know, after the scary weirdo in Lord of the Rings. Anyway, Smeagol was a perfectly normal cat for a year and a half or so until we moved into our house. Oh, the irony of that name. Just like in the book our innocent cat turned into a creature of evil. Ben took her outside a couple times and one time she got a look at the neighbor's cat and went crazy. After that Smeagol would randomly attack us, turning from a puring lap cat into a squalling ball of fur and claws, lacing right into our feet. Scary and not fun. I took to wearing my shoes all the time. We really loved Smeagol, aside from her evil alter ego, and tried some behavior modification that seemed to work. Whenever she'd get the crazy eye and poof up we'd just ignore her and she'd go back to normal. Then one day she attacked Ben's mom and Ben intervened and got bitten pretty bad and had to go to the doctor. I had just had Henry, so as much as we loved her, we decided that Smeagol and her craziness had to go. It was very sad but pretty much our only option was to have her euthanized because none of the cat rescue places would take surrenders, and she'd just end up getting put to sleep at the pound anyway. Ben was pretty sad, so his mom bought him Dori. It took me a few months to fully trust her and to stop being paranoid when I walked barefoot beside the bed. She's turned out to be a good, laid back cat who's only flaw seems to be occasionally puking up her cat food. So now you see why we were nervous about taking in another cat.

We've had this cat, Coco, a couple weeks now and she still won't willingly venture downstairs. For the first week she hid under the bed in the guest room. She's very affectionate, but she's the biggest chicken of a cat I've ever seen. I tried to take her down to the living room the other day and got a scratch on my arm as a result. Then I wrapped her in a towel and tried again. She stayed for about two seconds and ran back upstairs. It's really annoying beacuse I want her litter box in the basement with Dori's so I never have to see the thing. But if I can't even get her to downstairs there's little chance of her going into the basement. Speaking as the Queen of Laze, if she doesn't conform to my wishes soon, I have a feeling we'll have to give her back to the neighbors.

Newlyweds, in our one room shanty at E.S. King Village, Raleigh, North Carolina.

Ben And Sarah Through The Ages

Last week was our ninth anniversary. Miraculously I remembered, but neither of us felt like going out, so we hung out at home with Henry. Yes, we're super romantic, I know.

Our story:

Ben and I met in 1992. That year I was very grumpy because my parents decided to move halfway through the second semester of my junior year in high school. We moved an hour from the town I grew up in to the even more podunk town of Ramseur. Maggie and I were in the same chemistry class and instead of letting us be lab partners, the teacher made me sit next to a tall skinny strawberry blond kid named Ben Tilley. We were going over balancing equations, something I hadn't done yet at my old school, so I asked Ben how to do it. He said he didn't know how to explain it, and that was pretty much our last real conversation of the year. The next year my sister Beth took an interest in him and they started dating. Ben and I became friends after that and drew comics and joked around a lot in our physics class at the expense of the teacher, Howard Johnson. For some reason I told Ben about seminary and the hilariously bad church videos we got to watch. The next thing I knew he started going to seminary. He and Beth were pretty much set on getting married, and in May of 1994 Ben got baptized. The next year Beth and Ben broke up and I didn't hear from him in a while. We were still friends and started hanging out, but not dating or anything. Then right before he went on his mission he confided his amorous feelings for me, which I'd honestly been oblivious of. I wasn't quite prepared to hear what he had to say and had no idea what to say in turn. Ben took it as a rejection and left for his mission not knowing if he'd ever see me again. I felt pretty lame about the whole thing, so I wrote him a letter while he was in the MTC and explained myself. Then I went on my mission the next year and we wrote each other until I got home in October 1998. He proposed in February 1999, we got married in the Washington, D.C. temple August 7, 1999. After I survived three weeks of marriage in our one room studio and didn't kill Ben or myself, I realized I hadn't made a horrible mistake after all.

A few weeks ago we were watching some home improvement show on TV and these guys were moving a big glass door and one is explaining, "This door is three hundred pounds, it weighs a ton." Ben and I both opened our mouths and said pretty much the same sarcastic thing, "No, it weighs three hundred pounds."

Yes, we were made for each other.

Let's Go To The Movies

The other day I took Henry to the movies. I decided to do this knowing full well from previous experience that it wasn't going to be 100% fun making Henry stay in his seat, prevent him from running all over the theater, and keep him from bolting at the end and getting lost in a crowd of a hundred kids. Well, the movie was an older one but it was free, so I figured why not. Seeing how the theater lures people in with the free movie so they can make money on their overpriced candy and popcorn, I felt like I should be a jerk and not get anything, but Henry, having been to the movies with his grandmother recently, ran right up to the concession stand so I caved and bought some popcorn and raisinettes. I ordered a cup of water, because we all know what happens to Henry when a little soda is added. The chick asked me if I wanted a bottled water and I said no, tap water in a cup could be fine. Who wants to pay for freaking water? So we met up with our friends and I secretly was hoping that they'd want to see Wallace and Gromit because I've seen it already and can stomach it, crossed my fingers that they'd already seen Alvin and the Chipmunks, because having seen one scene from that movie in a McDonalds made me want to puke. So we end up going to Alvin and the Chipmunks. Yeah. I didn't complain too much, I was mostly busy keeping Henry in his seat and making him sit back down, stop bothering the people in front of us, stop sitting next to the teenager at the end of the row, find his missing shoe ("Mom, my shoe is missing! Mom, my shoe is missing! My sock is getting sticky!"), retrieve his cup of water from underneath the seat, grab him and make him sit in my lap, all while trying desperately not to scream "This movie sucks!" at the top of my lungs. Then to my immense relief the screen faded to black.

I turned to my friend, "Oh, man, I didn't think I was going to make it." And then another scene comes on and there was a few more minutes of annoying chipmunk agonies to endure.

It was kind of funny when Henry yelled at the top of his lungs about six times, "That girl looks like a hippy!" And his loud obnoxious laugh whenever anyone got smacked in the head or a chipmunk farted. So I guess torture can have its moments. And yes, I'd probably do it again, just to see him have a good time, even at my expense.

Then when we got home Henry found the receipt in my pocket and I glanced at it when I took it away from him and noticed that the concession stand chick had charged me a dollar for a freaking paper cup of water.

"That (insert biblical swear here)!" Whoops, I guess I shouldn't have let that one slip out. Henry laughed and repeated it like five times. I apologized and explained that I shouldn't say stuff like that even though I was angry. A dollar for a paper cup of tap water...

Next time we go to the free movies I'm smuggling in my own snacks.

MEMORIES...

I stole this from Barneckedlady's blog:

MEMORIES...

Fun if you want to participate.

1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you.

The doorbell rang this morning, and this is what I found staring at me through the storm door. I think he's supposed to be Batman, but I could be wrong. He really is getting miles and miles out of that swim vest.

Mommy's Happy Hour

After I spent all morning and afternoon dealing with the adventures of the psycho tornado formally known as Henry, Ben decided to go out and see the new Batman movie with a friend, leaving me with our adorable little hell-beast. All was fine until dinner time when the whining started and every culinary suggestion I offered was shot down with complaints galore. Moments like these often cause me to contemplate and reflect upon the horrible luck doled on me when my son decided to quit napping at about 25 months. I made dinner in spite of his avowal that he didn't like pizza (a flat out lie, since it's one of the few things he'll actually eat) and when it was ready I found him zonked out in the recliner. I made a half-hearted attempt to wake him, i.e., I brushed him with a finger, and when he didn't stir I gleefully let him sleep for an hour. Of course, thanks to his nap he was wide awake when Daddy got home.

Happy Birthday USA

Independence Day was spent at home since both Ben and Henry were laid up with colds. Henry actually asked to take a nap a couple hours after he got up that morning and he and Ben slept until well after one p.m. Fireworks were definitely out since the menfolk were so beat, so we busted out the sparklers instead. I'm not sure that Henry got the whole Forth of July thing, but he thought the sparkler was pretty cool, once he figured out it wasn't going to ignite him. I guess I should have told him it was our country's birthday, which he'd totally get. Too bad I always think of these things long after the fact. Oh, well.

Ahh, back on flat ground. Can't tell if I'm any whiter than normal, but my hands sure were sweaty

Family Vacation

Ben took a few days off and we went on vacation. We didn't go very far, just to Pilot Mountain and we camped out at Mom and Dad's again. Henry didn't get to play with all his cousins this time, but he did get to help babysit Wesley, Maggies' cute little three month old. He got in a tractor ride, boat ride, a couple of movies and got to feed the ducks before we called it a night. I slept really well since we skipped the air mattresses this time and used a foam mattress thingy. Henry drifted off, well more like crashed off, to sleep about ten thirty, and woke bright and early at about five.

"It's morning!" he said perkily into my incredulous, blinking, bloodshot eyes.

"No, it's not," I said and rolled over.

"It is morning! The birds are tweeting!"

Stupid birds.

We packed up the tent and stuff and left about nine and drove over to Pilot Mountain where Ben's paternal grandparents live. We spent the day with them then went up to the mountain to find a camping spot. This involves driving up a narrow windy road with hairpin curves and minimal guardrails, so I was a little queasy by the time we reached the top where the hiking trails and look outs are. We wanted to hike around the knob, which Ben and I did many years ago in the pre-Henry era. Of course, watching Henry fearlessly check out the view on the edge of the drop off did little to ease my nerves.

"Can I climb on that rock?" he asked, pointing just outside the fence.

No, imagining that didn't make me want to faint and puke at the same time.

I get completely stressed at home when he runs around on the back deck, which is about fifteen feet above a cement patio thing.

So we start our hike, Ben taking charge of Henry and the camera, me carrying the water.

"Have these sharp, slippery looking rock steps hanging out into open space always been here?" I asked Ben.

Of course, they must have been there the last time we hiked, but I honestly didn't remember them or getting vertigo that quickly before. I opted not to watch Ben leading Henry up and down those steps, pretty much because whenever I did my heart seized and dropped down somewhere in my knees. We'd gotten about a third into the hike and were working our way around bare rock when I decided I'd had enough. I think if Henry hadn't been there I'd have been okay. I mean, I've hiked it before and it was really fun. But watching my only child, who by the way only up until recently couldn't walk across a room in flip flops without tripping, climbing on pine needled covered rocks next to a very steep drop off sans hand rail or trees... Okay, the stress was killing me. So I was done. We turned around and went back and I kept my eyes on my feet the whole way.

At a much less stressful point where the path was soft and flat, and surrounded by trees we stopped for a little rest. Henry announced to a couple coming up the trail that his mommy was afraid of heights. Heh, heh, heh, ya little weasel. Just you wait until next time we go to Chick-fil-A and you're too chicken to climb to the top of the indoor play house...

Since I was a bit stressed, Henry had acquired a runny nose and the weather was supposed to be a bit cooler that night, and you could hear the highway noise all the way up the mountain, Ben suggested that we drive back to Mom and Dad's. Henry had left his hat there anyway, so we all agreed and drove back to Seagrove, arriving at Mom and Dad's right after seven. We ate our campfire dinner: Chef Boyaredee straight out of the can ( I heated Henry's in the Microwave) and we put Henry to bed and ordered pizza and watched movies.

Now we're home and Dori is happy and full of wet cat food.

Me cat, Dori. I think she may need to go on a diet. Not sure why she's so fat. As often as she pukes up her food one would think she'd be a trifle less endowed with lard.

Henry aka Skeletor. The skeleton with a heart.

Henry and his kite. Pay no attention to that pile of laundry on the couch.

I Got Nothing

It's true. I've nothing really to say. Today I sanded and spackled the bathroom walls, ripped off a huge chunk of that ugly wallpaper. Cleaned the kitchen, did some laundry, cleaned out that grout bucket that's been sitting in the bathtub all week. Boy, was I in rare form today. Whilst (I love saying whilst) I was engaged in domestic duties, Henry was occupying the recliner and catching up on a week's worth of PBS cartoons. After a while he left the TV to ask me to help him build a kite. So we built a kite out of some newsprint and a couple sticks I broke of a bush growing next to the deck. Then Henry wanted to fly it. There was absolutely no way that thing was going to fly; even if there had been a trace of wind, the twigs were probably too heavy, the tape to flimsy to hold it together, the thread (applied for aesthetic value only) wouldn't have held up. I indulged him anyway and ran around the back yard with the kite pathetically flopping beside me. Henry thought it was cool, though, and had to have a turn. When we went to Mee Maw and Pee Paw's to go swimming he insisted on bringing the kite to show it off. But then when we got there he changed his mind and left it in the car.

We've gotten some rain and a few cool nights, so the pool water had dropped back down to seventy eight. Too cold for me. I dipped my feet and watched Henry frolic. When we got home Henry wanted to color some more and decided to make a skeleton suit. Not sure where he got the idea, maybe from whatever inspired him to make the kite. I made him a skeleton suit with some more newsprint and he was happy. Then he taped the skeleton to his door and requested that I invite one of his friends over so he could scare her with it. By then it was too late for a play date, so he was a little disappointed. Then he made two "brothers" out of paper. He was really Mr. Creative today.

Well, that's it. Hope I didn't bore anyone into a coma.

More Weekend Fun

Saturday morning we got up early. Henry was still snoozing so I had to wake him. I almost never have to wake him up, and when I do it's usually because we have to be somewhere before nine thirty. And of course on those days he decides to sleep in. Anyway, Henry looks up groggily and asks where we're going. Nowhere, I just wanted to make you get up early for no reason like you do to me all the time. Not really. I reminded him that we were going to Grandma and Papaw's house and he hopped right up out of bed like that sick guy Joseph Smith gave a blessing to.

We got to Mom and Dad's around nine thirty and there on the table was a big batch of biscuits Mom had just made, which was nice because we'd neglected breakfast in our haste to get there early. After breakfast Ben and Dad went off to tear down an old tobacco barn. Dad wants to build a log cabin so when people come to camp and stuff they don't have to go all the way back to the house to use the bathroom. I guess Dad could just build an outhouse or something, but he likes to dream big.

While the men went off to do manly stuff, Henry and I hung out with Mom. We were a little disappointed that Beth's kids weren't there, as Henry had no one to play with, but he was able to make due with me, and was happy to require me to push him endlessly on the swing. Luckily before too long Mom asked us to go to the store with her and Uncle Dave so I got out of swing duty. We went to Asheboro, a thirty minute drive, and picked up some printer ink so I could copy some more family photos at Mom and Dad's expense (thanks Mom and Dad!) and then went to the super Wal-mart. While shopping Dad called Mom and said Beth was trying to reach her. In the process of trying to call Beth on her cell phone, Mom accidentally called Aunt Liz and then realized after several tries that Beth wasn't answering the phone because she was dialing her old number, so she had to call Maggie to get her new one, and Maggie had to call her back. Then we had to hurry back because Beth needed us to watch the kids for her.

While we were finishing our shopping, Henry saw a man in a wheel chair and asked in his loudest voice, "Why does he have a wheelchair?"

My attempt to quiet Henry and discreetly give him the "some people need wheelchairs speech" failed big time and the lady accompanying the man in the wheelchair explained to Henry that someone had hit the man in the back of the head with a big stick so he couldn't move anymore.

Dang, what do you say to that? "Oh, no. I'm so sorry to hear that," was the first thing that came to mind so I went ahead and said it. I felt really bad for the guy, but was glad he had someone to take care of him.

When we got back to Mom and Dad's Henry got to play with his cousins and I got a break. Then Ben and Dad got home, both completely filthy. Ben told me about their adventures in tobacco barn demolition while I helped him disinfect a cut and a broken blister on his hand. Made me glad I stayed with Henry instead of leaving him with Mom and trying to help them with the Barn. First they had to drop off some trash at the waste/recycling collection center down the road. Ben said as he was unloading the trash bags this reeking yellow slime oozed out of the bottom of the bag all over his hand. He just managed not to vomit from the smell and quickly looked around for something to get the stuff off with and the only thing in sight was a can of soda. So he used that. Then he saw there was hand sanitizer there, so he used that. His hand still reeked so when they got to the barn he rubbed dirt on his hand to try to rub the stink off. That didn't work either.

The tobacco barn was eighteen feet tall and they had to climb up from inside on these old bars of wood used for hanging the tobacco. That would have been my stopping point. Bendy old wood is not something I'm willing to trust my weight on. Nor would I have been able to climb up eighteen feet. Dad climbed through a hole in the roof, but Ben had to make his own by smashing through with a crowbar. They got the old tin roof off and decided that was enough for the day. Ben washed his hands a lot when they got back. I asked him if it still stank (I wasn't willing to sniff for myself) and he said a little. Ben hadn't the foresight to bring a change of clothes. When we went out to eat Dad loaned him the only shirt that would fit him, a hideously loud yellow Hawaiian-style shirt. Beth told me to lose it because, "he wears it when we go out to eat!" I think I'll return it though.

After dinner we let the kids play in a park a while and then went home, and during the ride home Zejda drew everyone pictures, including one she gave Henry of a poopy-pants gingerbread man, which Henry thought was hilarious. I'm going to save it and reintroduce it to her at a family gathering when she's about sixteen. That'll make her day. :) We made homemade ice cream when we got back. By the time it was done it was eight p.m., so I fixed us some to go and we said our goodbyes. We decided to follow Dad's advice and try a new route home through the back roads. Everything was great until we hit a road closed "except to local traffic" sign. Ben drove on to see if we could get through anyway, but it was getting pretty dark by then so we couldn't tell if the road was passable. The detour added about twenty minutes to the trip, but we still got home the same time that we would have if we'd gone our normal route. It had been a nice drive, despite the detour. The farms were all foggy as the sun was setting and we got to see what looked like an old textile mill ruin on a river (not sure if it was the Deep River or the Haw). Plus I reminded Ben that even though we'd had to drive a little more, we didn't have to go through Siler City, a town through which you had to drive and endure multiple stop lights, slowpokes, and cars yanking out in front of you. So we'll probably go that way from now on, and hopefully the road will be fixed before long.

Almost done. Hopefully by the end of the week.

Me laying tile. Kind of wish I didn't have that zombie eye thing going on. But hey, it's a photo of me not sitting on the couch reading a book.

The old floor. Well not really. I forgot to take a picture of the floor before we ripped it up, so I took a picture of the upstairs bathroom floor. But it's the same ugly yellow stuff. Just imagine it peeling away from the tub and a cigarette burn in it and you get the idea. Plus the floor squeaked. Made me crazy.

Some Dreams Actually Come to Fruition

OK, so we finally got started on the horrendously hideous master bath. A leaking toilet is almost never anyone's idea of a blessing, yet it was mine in this case, because I was able to convince Ben to let me redo the floor before we put a new wax seal on the bottom of the toilet. I've been wanting to tile the floor ever since we moved in back in 2002. But Ben has been doing his best to thwart any and all attempts at home improvement. Whenever I mention that something needs fixing or that I'd like to replace a floor or that I hate the ugly vinyl flooring in the bathrooms or that the kitchen is in every way an abomination, Ben's eyes glaze over. Well, this time I won, or rather Ben saw things my way. My awesome parents came by Saturday while my awesome mother-in-law watched Henry and we got to work. The toilet removal was kind of gross, but it was very satisfying ripping up the old flooring. Bye bye ugly fake yellow tile. Dad got us off in the right direction and we got the floor prepped Saturday, the tile laid Monday, and today we grouted. Ben discovered that sometime between last night and this afternoon the threshold thingy (forgot what you call it), had been bumped somehow so it was slightly crooked. I was ticked for a few minutes. Stupid dumb luck. Oh, well. I got over it. Sometime in the near future we have to do the tile trim and paint while the toilet is out of the way. An old piece of wallpaper behind the toilet makes me try to imagine the house when it was new and I wonder how people walked into the bathroom without vomiting from the visual assault of indescribably incompatible decor styles. I can't say that I know of anyone who would ever think that green, blue and gold striped wallpaper went well with a yellow floor. Even I don't have that bad of taste.

Today Henry and I went for a play date with a friend of mine. I was her trainer when we were missionaries at Temple Square and we became good friends. When I came home from the mission I figured I'd never see her again, but then through some happy coincidence she now lives fifteen minutes away and our kids really like each other, so all the more reason to hang out. We were there pretty much all day, had lunch, went swimming, then Henry cut his head open on the banister. Kyna was impressed by my calm handling of the situation, but I told her it was nothing compared to his Old Navy head wound. Then it was time to leave and Henry was not happy. So we rode home in our hot un-airconditioned car and I helped Ben grout the bathroom floor. Fixing the a.c. in the car would be nice, but I better focus on one project at a time...

I'm a Mur-diddley-urdler!

Right now there's a big forest fire burning up stuff in the counties over by the beach, or down east as some people like to say. Since the wind shifted and is coming in off the ocean, all that lovely smoke has wafted this way. I'm not sure if it was the smoke or the air blowing in off the water that cooled things down to 85, but either way, I'm happy. Plus I kind of like the woodsmoke smell; it reminds me of campfires and that wood stove we had when I was a kid. The haze was kind of gross, though. To think I spent all afternoon swimming with Henry in that. Hopefully we didn't suck in too many carcinogens. The plus side to the haze is that even though I forgot sunblock, I didn't get sunburned.

Ben went directly to his grandparents' place right after work, changed into his bathing suit and commenced to washing his car. This was a rare event indeed. The last time Ben's car got washed was probably... Ok, I forgot, it's been so long. And I was the one who washed it. When Ben was finished he was rinsing the washcloth he'd used and I noticed that the blackish gray washcloth was slowly turning pink. Ah, filth. One more reason why I want to chop down that tree over the driveway.

While Ben was washing the car I was wandering aimlessly as I am wont to do (I love saying "as I am wont to do." Sounds like I know what the heck I'm talking about.) and happened to notice a bird's nest built into an old tennis shoe perched upon a ladder which was leaning against the carport wall.

"Oh, look," I said. "There's a bird nest in this shoe."

Henry came up to see and I went in for a closer look. I figured it was an old nest, as there's no telling how long those shoes have been sitting on that ladder, and for what purpose I have no idea. I had to stand on tiptoe to see and right as I was just about to see over the rim of the nest, a bird flew out of it right into my face, missing me by inches. I'm not sure if it was me or the bird, but somehow the shoe fell off the ladder. I mean, it was a tennis shoe sitting on a ladder; it's not like it was nailed in place. At any rate, two little eggs got broken in the process. I put the shoe back in place thinking that if the bird came back it could probably lay some more eggs.

When Pee-Paw (Ben's grandpa) got home with the groceries Henry told him that mommy had killed the baby bird.

I didn't feel so bad after he told me that the bird had startled him before, as well.

I think this officially makes me a bird murderer. The eggs. The two birds smacking into my death-window. Those two birds I had to scrape off the grill of my car with a rolled-up newspaper.

Maybe I should put some more bird seed in the feeder or something.

Hurrah for Summer

Joy School is officially over for the summer. Last Saturday we held a Joy School graduation at the park. Henry got his diploma and posed for a photo, but he's going to do Joy School again in the fall since he doesn't start Kindergarten until 2009. Ah, the joy of sweating to death at ten in the morning...

Lately it's been hotter than heck around here, around 100, so we've been hiding in the house a lot. We took Henry swimming on Saturday but the pool water was only 76 degrees, so after an hour I was done. Henry was not happy at all. This year he's tall enough to touch bottom and was having a blast hopping around whilst he slowly turned blue. Since I couldn't swim around to keep warm (ironic, when it was almost 100) because I had to be Miss Vigilant to keep my kid from drowning himself, I had to put an end to it. Today when we went for another swim after a 100 plus weekend, the pool was a lot warmer. Henry got to splash around all afternoon and we had an hour off to eat and for me to recuperate from lifeguarding. Not a job I'm much suited for; the constant paying attention wears me out.

I had a fun-filled evening cleaning wax out of Henry's left ear. He'd been picking at his ear alot and so I got a flashlight and saw that a giant glob of wax had nearly sealed off his ear canal. I got a bottle of Debrox and dropped some in his ear and let it fester a while. Then after about four hundred squirts of water with a bulb syringe I got that nasty clot out. Henry was very cooperative and even offered squirt my ears for me. Unfortunately I had to decline his offer. Awww...

I got a video clip of Henry's entertaining Joy School talent show entry:




Well, that's all folks.

Fun Around the House

Last Saturday we helped Ben's grandparents uncover their pool. This involves quite a bit of work if there are leaves and water on top of the tarp. But they had a couple trees cut down last fall so there weren't too many acorns to clean out like in year previous. But there were plenty of slugs and stuff under the tarp. And the water was a lovely shade of greenish brown. No dead animals floating in it this year, though. Henry wanted to go swimming that same day and didn't care that the water was disgusting and only sixty eight degrees. I really had to put my foot down on that one. Then I saw a baby snake curled up on the sidewalk beside the pool. Ben said it was venomous because it's head was bigger that its body. So I had to kill it with a shovel because Ben was a little squeamish. I hate having to kill things, especially snakes, but it's not too difficult if I steel myself for it. Then I feel terrible afterwards.

Then there are those dumb birds that fly into our back picture window. Most of the time we hear a smack and the bird gets up and flies off, leaving a few downy feathers stuck to the glass to mark the spot where they hit. But so far two birds have killed themselves. The last one was a cardinal. Henry and I looked out the window and the poor thing was sprawled out on the deck steps, his little legs twitching a little. Ben made sure it was dead and then buried it. I think i'm going to make a cardboard cut out of some big bird of prey and tape it up in the window to keep the kamikaze death-wish birds away.

On Sunday Ben noticed the kitchen sink faucet was dripping. So he tried shutting off the water to the sink except the cold water wouldn't turn off all the way so I pushed the handle all the way to the hot water side and it stopped. Then next day we got a faucet fixing kit and a new wax seal for the toilet in our bathroom which was leaking slightly from the bottom. The kitchen sink is fine now; after Ben's fantastic fit of rage he finally got the faucet reassembled. It's funny to watch him at work on handyman kinds of jobs. Usually at some point he loses it, bellowing ape-like screeches, flailing his arms about. Well, it's not quite that bad, but I still get a kick out of it. Then I pat him on the back and tell him to let me have a try and either I fix the problem or he has another go at it when he's calmer and everything works out. The toilet is still not fixed, though. Id' like to see if my dad can come over and help with that one, especially since I'd really like to get the floor replaced at the same time (the vinyl flooring is peeling up, and it's super ugly, plus the floor squeaks and it's making me crazy). Then after that there's only a million more things that have to be fixed, replaced, refurbished, etc. That's what happens when you buy a fixer-upper. Oh, well.

The other day it was raining cats and dogs so I took Henry to see a giant model train display at one of the old malls in town. It conveniently located next to a DMV, Burlington Coat Factory, and a model train store. So of course we had to go in the store and look at stuff. Then I got him out of there and went to the BCF to kill time until the rain slacked off a little. We went over to look at shoes because Henry's sandals from last year were completely trashed. Water was leaking from the ceiling onto one of the shoe shelves, so I helped a lady, a customer, move the shoes out of the drip zone because none of the people who worked there seemed to care. Henry was adamant that he get flip-flops because his cousin Maddox has flip-flops so of course they didn't have any flip-flops that fit him. (Wow, that last sentence was like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.) So we walked around a little more looking at church clothes (poor Henry) and then he found a Spiderman baseball cap he had to have. I almost never buy him stuff on a whim, but was cheap, so I got it for him. At least when we left it kept the rain off his head. Henry's not really a hat person, but he's been wearing the hat to the park and stuff, mostly because I remind him so that he'll get some use out of it and I'll feel justified in parting with six bucks.

After we bought the hat we went to the other mall, the real mall actually, to look for some flip-flops. We went in several shoe stores but no flip-flops. I was starting to wonder if flip-flops were fashion faux pas now, but then we walked by a children's clothing store and there was a huge rack of them on the wall. Three bucks later I was feeling quite proud of myself for being a frugal shopper and so I bought us a pretzel. Henry wanted another one, but I told him I'd make some when we got home. Then when we got home I made pretzels and we had a kind of German meal that night with potatoes and kielbasa. Henry had surprised the crap out of us the other day when we had the missionaries over for dinner and he actually tried everything I put on his plate: meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans. Shocker. Usually if it ain't cheese sandwich, pizza, cheeseburger or some sort of bread or pasta he's not touching it. So when Henry tried the kielbasa and potatoes I was pleasantly surprised. Hopefully this is the advent of a new and exciting era of pleasant dinnertime experiences. At any rate, by the end of the evening Henry had finished off all the pretzels.

When we went to the park on Monday Henry insisted on wearing his flip-flops, which I didn't think was such a great idea because he can't run in them without tripping. To prove it to Ben I told Henry to run across the living room in his new shoes and he biffed it every time (I'm evil, I know). I let him wear his new shoes and we made it halfway down the hill to the park when Henry tripped and skinned his knee. He was pretty cool about it, no crying or anything, and he let me clean it off with hand sanitizer. For some reason because I put band aids on it he thought no one was supposed to see his blood. We went to the park again today and he fell again and scraped his other knee. Poor kid. He's completely oblivious to cuts and scabs. Hopefully he won't be too scarred and maimed before he reaches adulthood.