The Good And Bad Of A Long Weekend

Confession: I get a three day weekend every week because I don't work Fridays. Don't hate.

But this long weekend FLEW by.

The boy had a baseball tournament an hour away. Saturday's game was supposed to be at 9am. Which meant the boys were supposed to be there at 8am. Which meant leaving the house at 7am. Which meant I was up at 5:30am (on a Saturday!) to get myself and everything we needed, including the boy, ready to go. At 6:30am, after just waking up the boy, he checked his phone and had a message that due to the Friday night games getting rained out, the times had been shifted. Our game now didn't start until.... 3pm!!! Ugh. I had already showered, put on makeup and was ready to go. I tried to go back to bed, to no avail.

That all should have been a hint on how things would go.

The tournament was charging a $3 entry fee per person, to watch our own kids play baseball. Mind you, we've already paid an extraodinary amount of money to participate in this madness for the season, and the team has already paid their entry fee into the tournament. For this $3, we got no concessions, no officials to answer questions, no real toilets, and one honey bucket. (for three days, 12 teams, four games each)

On day two, I couldn't make it through two games without using the potty. I'd had coffee, don't judge. Against my better judgement (I couldn't find an appropriate tree or bush to squat behind), I entered the Honey Bucket only to find human feces (that'd be shit) smeared on the sliding lock. Get me outta here!

And my very last complaint would be the freezing wind that blew for two games on Sunday. I was wearing long sleeves, sweatshirt - with my hood up, jacket, double layer fleece blanket and I was freezing. I was cold enough that by the very end of the second game, my finger tips were going numb. Is it January??? I still haven't made it through a game without my trusty blanket and June 1st is tomorrow!

However, there is good, too. For all it's worth, they won two, tied one and lost one. Not terrible at all.

Monday when we got home I was really ready for a nap, but I had two flats of flowers waiting to be planted and the next four days they're predicting rain and showers. It was now or never time. I'm thrilled to say I got it done!

All planted!

Wilbur the Watering Can - always helpful.

Lilacs perfuming the yard. (The dark purple ones haven't quite opened - I'm telling you, the weather has been awful!)

This was it. This was what we got for sun on Sunday and Monday.

Here's to a little sunshine in our future! And hoping this weeks' rain isn't too hard on my newly potted flowers...

***Ally
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We Were Senior Class Hotties! Class of '85!

You didn't think I was going to dive into this humiliation by myself, did you?

No, if I'm going, I'm taking Lela with me.

Go grab this button from Liz and link up!

What are we doing? We're joining Liz over at a belle, a bean, & a chicago dog and showing you how "hot" (or not) we were our senior year of high school. For those of you not counting, that was waaaaay back in 1985!

Yes, right smack in the middle of the 80's. You are afraid already, aren't you? You should be.

Okay, I decided our Senior Ball (prom) would be a fair example of bad hot hair, really bad hot dates and bad hot dresses. Ready? Here you go:

Hair? I had no idea how to tame it. But I'm rocking those feathery bangs, don't you think? Dress? No I wasn't getting married, and those puffy sleeves! Ack! But I DID have that really stylin' pink sash going on!

Date? Don't go there. I guess I was desperate for a date.

Lela's dress was considerably cuter than mine. But no, she wasn't getting married, either. Date? I think she had a crush on him for our entire high school lives. A crush that may not have been reciprocated. Or maybe it was and she wouldn't go out with him. Or something. We were teenagers and idiots, what can I say.

Hair? What do you want? Perms were IN. It was 1985!!!!!

The great thing about going through our teen years in the 80's is that we will ALWAYS have something to look back and laugh at. They were good times, for sure.

You KNOW you were a Senior Class Hottie. Post 'em!  The link up only lasts until 5/30, but we'll still come and look if you let us know!

Ally & Lela
Senior Class Hotties

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Marital Bliss

My son has been gone for a few days and you would think that my husband and I would be running around the house naked and carefree.  He even took a few days off and I actually thought for a minute he was planning a romantic getaway.

Naw.  He took time off to work uninterrupted on his race car.  He did mention something about Wednesday, but the patio furniture was being delivered that day.  Plus, he worked an all-nighter Tuesday and slept all day Wednesday while I put the patio furniture together by myself.  Thursday I had bible study and grocery shopping to do and by the time I got home it was late.  I planned a homemade dinner on the back patio with music, but the grill was busted so I decided to work on my chandelier instead.

I have been decorating the patio on a budget and bought a cheap, ugly chandelier and a can of turquoise spray paint.  My husband worked on the grill while I turned myself and the yard blue.  He got the grill working 50% and I grilled some chicken for a decent dinner.  After we ate, we sat on the new, comfy outdoor furniture.  I noticed my husband's arm was covered in grease, probably from the car or the grill. 

I said, "You have grease on your arm."

That innocent comment turned into him telling me how I am always telling him what to do.

So he went inside and watched a car race on T.V. while I had a glass of wine by  myself outside and looked for outdoor curtains online.

My son comes home tomorrow.  Thank goodness.  Maybe things will get back to normal.

-Lela, the lonely housewife

The Kid's Away At Camp

My son left for a 3-day trip to Astro Camp with his 8th grade class today.  I let him pack his own bag.  I was too lazy to check it for contraband, but I did ask him before he walked out the door, "Do you have any contraband in your bag?"

He said he didn't.

The kids are not supposed to bring iPods or cell phones.  My husband felt a little uncomfortable about my son not having his phone on a three hour bus ride up a winding mountainn road.  I said there would be plenty of parents and teachers on the bus with phones if they drove off the cliff. 

Wondering why I can be such a heartless, uncaring mom?  First, I have faith.  Second I prayed with my son before he left (as he rolled his eyes) for safety, joy and blessings.

Here is the third reason:

When I was 12 years old my mom dropped me off at a downtown Seattle Greyhound bus stop where I took a 6 hour bus ride to Eastern Washington by myself.  When I arrived I was met by camp counselors who drove me in a pick-up truck to the Bar 41 Ranch, where I summer-camped with Ally.  She got there a week before me for some reason.

My son got to ride with responsible chaperones and all of his friends in a luxury "coach" with bathrooms.

I had the time of my life at the co-ed horse camp and I am sure my son will have fun, too, and make it home safely.

As for my trip home from camp, Ally's mom came and picked us up.  We got into a car accident on the way home and had to ride in an ambulance to a hick-town hospital hundreds of miles away from home.  I am sure I called my mom from a payphone.  Ally's grandparents drove from Seattle to get us and we all made it home late, but safe.

My son will be fine.

-Lela
Disclaimer:  Ally read this and claims she took the bus with me.  I do not remember her being there!  What a horrible friend.  Or maybe I got a concussion in the car accident and forgot.
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Am I Under Dressed For Game Night?

I got a last minute text from a friend down the street. Hey are you up for a last minute bunco sub? 6:30 my house tonight.

I've played before, but only couples bunco, which involves a party atmosphere and a large amount of ridiculousness. Fun ridiculousness. However, I've never played in a women's group.

So sure. Why not? She actually caught me on a free night, which is rare. A free night I'd been dreaming of being in my jammies by 6:30. But hey, I've been complaining that I have no social life and no friends, so off I went.

I arrived and my friend greeted me in the front room. She was telling me that she'd been playing with this group for a few months, but it was a little awkward, they were all just a little bit older than her, and... then she had to run help someone in the driveway with where to park. Uh, okay, I was on my own.

So I wandered into the other room where the ladies were gathered. It seems there was a dress code for Bunco. One I was unaware of. It involved lots of pretty things, flowery things, nice pants (one was in a skirt!), lots of heels, and lots of jewelry. And there I was in the same jeans, t-shirt, and athletic inspired shoes I'd gone to work in that morning. Okay, it was a cute t-shirt, but I was still under-dressed. Not for Bunco, but definitely for this crowd. It was going to be a long night.

I did finally spot two other women in jeans. 

Have you ever walked into a room and felt immediately out of place? That was me. It took a good five minutes to even get the opportunity to introduce myself to any of the women standing in small groups, immersed in conversations. I was feeling way out of my element and beginning to wonder exactly how long their Bunco nights lasted. It was going to be a very long night.

I made myself get a grip on my self-confidence and started introducing myself to people. Long night be damned.

Here's the great thing about Bunco, if you've never played - you are forced to switch partners with every round. So the little groups that are there at the start quickly disperse and things are light and fun.

I will admit now that I'm glad I went, I had a good time, ate too many snacks, and would likely sub for them again. What I realized is that I need to get out more. My social life has tanked the last few years. I'm out of practice. I mean really, I got intimidated by a room full of women in Ann Taylor Loft* outfits and uncomfortable shoes. We socialize in couples, where I rely on my husband, people I know, and my comfort zone. I'm clearly out of practice.

(*Don't get me wrong, I love Ann Taylor Loft)

***Ally
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Torment Or Love?

No romance stories here. I'm talking cousins.

I grew up an only child. Just me and my mom. And my grandparents. And aunts and uncles. And cousins galore.

I also have my dad's side, parents, sister, brothers, more cousins... But they lived in another state. Today I'm talking day to day, everyday life.

Suffice to say, I grew up with a very large, very extended, somewhat fractured, but very close family. We lived with my grandparents when I was little while my mom went back to school. And then we always lived close to them after that. There were always family dinners and get-togethers with various relatives and plenty of cousins.

Especially close to me were two cousins - the children of my mom's brother. The older, M, a boy, was just six months older than me. The younger, J, a girl, was five years younger.  Now let me just say that J was the cutest little play thing a kid could ask for. Yes, I said play thing.

We spent hours upon hours playing together. She was just young enough to want to do everything us older kids did. She wanted to be included. She wanted to play with the big kids. And so, she would usually do whatever we told her.

Let's play school! Okay, J, you be the bad kid. We'll put you in detention.

Let's build a fort! Okay, J, you be the dog. It's a mutt and it stays outside.

Let's play office! Okay, J, you be the janitor. Clean up after us, okay?

Basic kid stuff like that. She got all the bad jobs, all the bad play acting gigs. Games? Though I don't remember, I'm sure we didn't let her win.

However, she WAS a girl. And when it came to playing with Barbies,  M was a total boy and wanted to get out his GI Joes and pretend to blow stuff up. J and I, however, wanted to set up cool Barbie houses and dress them up in pretty outfits.

See, she was good to keep around.

And today? Today, M has gone his own way (with a chick who's name I can never remember but has something to do with bubbles), which involves some bitter and/or distant feelings toward portions of the family (including me), that likely have nothing to do with us, but rather his own twisted view on his relationship with his father. At any rate, he's decided very little contact with us is the way he prefers it, and that's okay.

But today, J and I are as close as sisters. I love that girl. I love her adorable children, and she loves mine. We laugh and share memories, and much to her credit and my good luck, she has never harbored hard feelings about having to be the dog, the bad kid, or the janitor!

A cousin is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost. 
~Marion C. Garretty

***Ally
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Greet 'Em Like A Dog

I have this sweet dog.

 Usually.

Her name is Kona. My friend, a mom of another boy on my son's baseball team, has an eleven month old English Yellow Lab, named Benji. She brings him to all the games, spoils his butt rotten, and he's the most mellow "puppy" I've ever met. Sweet as pie.

It was time to introduce them. Now, an open area where we could let them off leash would have been ideal, but of course we didn't have that. In that situation, Kona would have been great. However, on a leash, she can live up to the female dog name (bitch) during a greeting.

Here's how it went:

Kona:  Hey, there's a new guy. He's kinda cute.

Benji:  Hiya!

Kona:  Let me sniff your butt and see if I like you.

Benji:  Okay, let me sniff yours, too.

Kona:  HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU DON'T GET TO SNIFF MY BUTT! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? I GET TO SNIFF YOUR BUTT NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND. GET AWAY FROM MY BUTT!! *growl, snort, snap, bark, growl*

Benji:  Bitch. I'm going back to my bone.

Kona:  Hmph. Whatever. He's not that cute after all. *turns her back and refuses to look at him*

And that was that. She refused to look at him the rest of the game. He only looked at her when he thought she had something good to eat, then went back to ignoring her. During this time - they sat four feet apart.

Call me a female dog, but there are a few people I've met in life that I wish I could have just taken a sniff and decided to ignore them. Oh if life were so easy.

***Ally
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Swedish Meatballs

I went to Ikea today in search of patio furniture that looks really expensive with a cheap price.  I didn't find what I was looking for but saw a few weird things while I was there.

If you have never been to Ikea let me give you a little heads-up.  It is a literal maze of mini living rooms, bedrooms, and kitchens.  Each one is decorated down to the last detail with Ikea products to give you decorating ideas. 

A bedroom vignette caught my eye when I first arrived, but not because of the Keelig comforter or Ulag nightstand.  Everything at Ikea has Swedish names and I just made those ones up. 

Anyway, under the sheets and blankets, snuggled all warm and cozy were a little kid and his mom.  Under the covers!  They were giggling and frolicking like they were in their own home.  But they were in Ikea.  Weird.

Let me remind you that Ikea also has a killer germ ball pit/day care for the kiddies to play in while the parents shop.  Yet it never ceases to amaze me how parents will forgo the monitored play area and choose to let their kids play on all the nice model furniture instead.  It's called display, not play.

You can imagine my utter delight when I saw and heard an Ikea employee reprimanding two clueless parents for allowing their 3-year-old to jump from couch to coffee table. 

"Are you kidding me?"  he actually said to the parents.  "This is not the play area."  Just what I was thinking!

I wanted to get the employee's name and write him a letter of commendation.  He will probably be fired.

When I was a stewardess I once looked at a kid who was purposely smashing Cheerios into the carpet of the plane while his mother looked on silently.

"Please stop doing that," I said nicely.  "Someone has to clean that mess up."

The kid stopped.  It wasn't his fault if no one ever told him how to behave.  You know what his mom did?  She wrote a letter to Northwest Airlines and told them how rude I was to her and her child!  Don't worry.  I didn't get fired.  In fact my supervisor was on my side when I told her the story.

So that was my exciting day at Ikea.  I didn't find the patio furniture of my dreams, but I got a little free entertainment.

-Lela
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King of Pain

My son played a tough game of lacrosse last night.  His team ended up winning 10-9 in an all-out battle, which left him with a bruise on his ribcage where a hard shot hit him, followed by a stick.  Ouch. 

I am no doctor, but I am pretty sure nothing was broken.  In fact, that night he seemed perfectly fine.  It wasn't until the next morning at school that I started receiving the following texts:

Son:  It hurts to cough and walk with the bruise I have.  I <3 Sarah

Me:  It will quit hurting when the pain goes away.  Also, pain is weakness leaving the body.  Luv Mom

Son:  I can't run.  I <3 Sarah

Me:  Then you won't be on the track team.  U already missed 1 practice.  Suck it up.  Luv Mom

Son:  Can u write me a note and put it in the office?

Me:   (Nothing--I did not reply)

And that was the end of that.  He went to track practice and survived.

I hope he doesn't really have a cracked rib.  I would feel terrible.

-Lela
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I'm Crying Foul

That means I think it is UNFAIR, people.

I'm 43 years old. I still get pimples. Zits. Acne. Call it what you want. Not only do I still get pimples, I also get these foul, painful, deep cysts on my face brought on totally by hormones. Without too much detail, they are completely hormonal and have nothing to do with cleaning your face or having acne. They are a pain in the ass to get rid of unless I can get into the dermatologist for him to inject them. They last for weeks and leave a lump and occasionally a temporary scar. (Despite that, I don't look like scar face. My picture is right up there.)

My sweet friend Lela gets these, too. Just one more reason we are friends for life.

So in my opinion, that's enough of the ugly humiliations of skin disorders.

BUT NO. Tuesday was the day my body threw me another curve ball. For the first time in my life, I got a cold sore. WHAT THE HECK?? I thought it was an infection because it was right in the corner of my mouth and it had split right there. I've had a split there in the past that wouldn't heal for months and it finally took a regimen of tea tree oil to get it healed. So I thought it was coming back. I put some tea tree oil on it, but then it started blistering. I was sure I had some funky infection, spreading minute by minute. Of course since I didn't know what it was I kept touching it and spreading it around. Until I started reading about cold sores. Oh yeah, the descriptions fit to a tee:

It was sore a day before it split.
Triggers? Let's see: stress, hormones, lowered immune function.  I had all of these VERY recently. There's all kinds of stress happening right now, I'm about to start my period (hence the cyst on my forehead) and I just finished a prednisone dose pack... which can lower your immune system function. I call that a triple whammy.

Sigh. Did you know that they think approximately 70% of adults carry the dormant herpes virus that causes cold sores? Only 30% actually get the sores. Yay me! (This is the herpes simplex 1, often spread by saliva or direct contact, that causes facial cold sores, not the herpes simplex 2, that causes genital sores) Most adults actually contracted the virus as children. Isn't that a special kind of present to give a kid!

Well, I'm not thrilled. Just sayin'. I did some reading and am trying some natural home remedies. Not just one, but several. I don't care if I don't know which one works, as long as one does. Because short of that, there's Abreva, which gets pretty poor reviews. And not only does it look bad, but it hurts like a bugger, too.

8-10 days. That's the average for healing. So if any of ya'll are blessed with this little gift, and you don't mind sharing what works for you, I'm all ears.

I promise I can't pass it to you through the internet. Hey, at least I didn't post a picture.

***Ally

A Big Hurry To Go Nowhere

I was sitting with Grandma at the eye doctor. The nurse did all the vision testing, then put in the drops to dilate her eyes. "Okay, it'll take about 20 minutes for those to work, so just sit back and relax."

Grandma, maybe 5 minutes later: *Loud sigh* "This is ridiculous."

Me: "What to you mean?"

Grandma: "It's taking so long for him to come in."

Me: *Laugh* "She told you it would take twenty minutes to dilate your eyes!"

Grandma: "Well it's been at least 7 or 8!"

Me: laughing and shaking my head

I can tell you that it got less funny after the nurse came back to check that her eyes were finally dilated, said they were, and pushed the light button that lets the doctor know she's ready. The nurse's big mistake was saying he'd be in in a few minutes. Ten minutes later, Grandma was threatening to walk out if he didn't show up in five minutes.

Me: "Yeah? Where do you think you're going? I drove you here."

Tell me, where does an 85 year old have to be in such a damn hurry to get to? Maybe she had hot date with a secret boyfriend at the 'Retirement Community'. Hmmmm.

The same thing will happen.... at a stoplight. Yes, a stoplight.

Light turns red, we stop. Two and three quarter seconds pass and she's all fired up because "this traffic is terrible having to wait like this." Really? It's a RED LIGHT.

Or a line at the store. Brace for the worst. Here comes her favorite line again, "Well this is ridiculous!" Did I mention she has no ability to whisper?

Me: "What, that they got here before you did?"

Grandma: "Well why are they so busy? Isn't there anyone else to check us out?" Looking at me, "We should just go. I can do this later."

Me: "Don't get your britches in a bunch. Find some patience, woman!"

Yes, I do talk to my grandmother like that. Judge away.

Really, I thought retired people had time. Isn't that the point of being retired? Because if it's not, tell me now so I can readjust my expectations. Me? I'm expecting to kick back a bit when I retire. Less rushing, less stressing, less hurrying.

I think I should investigate that boyfriend theory. There might be something to that after all...

***Ally
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Seize The Moment

Dinner* was done.

The dishes were also done - thanks to Hubs.

The dog had been fed.

The boy was off to a late baseball hitting practice.

Hubs was off to... where was he? Oh yeah, off to pick up a racquetball racquet he was having restrung.

My butt was on the couch, a throw over me (cause it's still not warm, people).

A book was in my hand.

And for a few moments, my mind quieted, the house quieted, the world quieted.

Then, of course, they came home. And that was okay.

But the lesson is that sometimes those moments present themselves and you have to just grab them and go with it. Let everything else on the to-do list sit. It'll still be there later.

photo credit: http://katotainment.blogspot.com/

*Gluten free pasta with vegan tomato-basil cream sauce - homemade by me with fresh tomatoes and basil. And it was GOOD! Even though I'm not vegan and I topped it with Parmesan cheese. It was delicious, healhty and very filling. Did I mention easy? It has like five ingredients. Oh yeah.

***Ally 
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Healthy Day Eats

I'm not really going to start a food blog here, but I have been coming across some of the most awesome food blogs with some fabulous recipes that are healthy without being bland or boring.

So I'm going to share my new favorite treat:

Banana Soft Serve.

I originally saw this recipe on Oh She Glows (I might have a small crush- food related, of course). I'm not sure the true origins because I've seen versions everywhere since then.

Not only can it be a great healthy treat for you, but also for your kids.

So here's my version (in other words, this is how I make it)

1) One peeled, chunked, frozen banana (I keep at least one chopped up banana in the freezer at all times - keep more in there if your feeding this to multiples)

2) Splash of unsweetened vanilla almond milk (use can whatever milk you drink - but only a splash!)

Place frozen banana chunks in your food processor or blender. Add a splash of your milk. (Too much milk will make it runny!) Blend for 2-4 minutes. The longer you blend the creamier and better texture it will have - it will take on a soft serve texture. - Makes one serving.

Here's the fun part:

*Need more protein in your diet? More protein in your kid's diet? Want to use it as a workout recovery snack? Add a scoop of your favorite protein powder. I use chocolate whey protein when I want a chocolatey treat. I've used vanilla, as well.

*Like strawberry ice cream? Add 2-3 fresh strawberries per serving (frozen might also work - and you can add vanilla protein powder here, too!)

*Get creative! Add peanut butter & chocolate protein. Or raspberries. Or blueberries.

*Eat it plain, or use it to top your boring bowl of oatmeal. (Or your fav dessert - can you imagine it on fresh grilled peaches or nectarines? Mmmm.)

I have only one word - YUM!

Okay, not the best picture - I ate it up too quick! This is the banana-strawberry soft serve - I used it as a topping for vegan overnight oats.

No, it's not Ben & Jerry's but it's good. Really.

***Ally

Ain't Teenage Love Grand? Why, Yes It Is.

Well, it IS grand when your teenage son's girlfriend is a crazy good influence on him.

Here are some examples:

- After dinner at our house, he would normally clear his plate and then try to clear out of the kitchen before he gets asked to help with dishes. Few, if any, words would be spoken during this daring escape. When the girlfriend is here, he gets an elbow to the ribs, a few whispered words, and next thing you know he's asking, "Do you need some help with the dishes?"

-After being told no, and that I'll take care of the dishes, another elbow and a few more whispers and I get, "Thanks for making us dinner, Mom." What? Did my ears deceive me?

- A random text when he's off shopping with the girlfriend, and we're off doing other errands, that reads, "How's it going?" Of course, my suspicious mind forces my fingers to fire back, "Why??". His response? "Kenzie thought it would be nice to ask."

- And for Mother's Day? He got me these:

Mini roses purchased by my boy.

Yes, he bought those. With prodding from the girlfriend, I'm sure, but not from me, and not from my husband. He also bought me a real gift. It's a Chaise/Beach Chair Side Table - it snaps on to the side of your folding chair and has a small little shelf with a cup holder and slot for your cell phone. Cute! And I'm thinking I'll be using that at double header baseball games this summer...

Do I worry about my son being in a serious relationship at such a young age, wondering if it will last all through high school? Of course, I'm a mom. But there are some definite upsides. We've known her since kindergarten, we know her parents, they have similar rules as we do... and? And she's a pretty darn good influence! 

***Ally

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What Did You Do?

Quick answer - What did you do this weekend? Well?

Do you ever have those Mondays where someone asks, "How was your weekend?" and you actually have to stop and try to remember what you did? Happens to me all the time. Because unless it's out of the ordinary, it's just... what I do. Umpteen loads of laundry, some cleaning, grocery shopping, running the kid around, etc. (Yes this past weekend was Mother's Day, so there was probably a little more out of the norm, but go with me on this one.)

Occasionally, however, things happen that stick in your mind.

***We did some car shopping. Yep, we're looking for a commuter car for me. Have you filled your tank lately? Lord have mercy on my wallet. Something with a little better gas mileage than my 10 year old Acura would be nice. I love my car, it still runs like a dream, but it's a little thirsty and takes Premium gas. Even though we only feed it mid-grade, it still bites. (Besides, we need to do a car shuffle and pass down our old Subaru to my son to use for a while.)

 Thanks Google Images and ZeldaLily.com

Saturday we took a little trip north to look at a car - 2010 - they've had it a little over a year and a half. 31,000 miles on it were run up as it was purchased for, and used by, a family friend college student that went to school in Southern California - 15 trips back and forth over the last two years racked up some miles.

It was described as having a "dimple" on the roof and a couple of stains on the passenger seat. Upon inspection, there were FIVE baseball sized "dimples" on the roof, just only one of them broke the paint and was rusting. Did I mention he played baseball in college??? Can you say "foul ball"? Can you say "learn where to park at the baseball field"? There were six more small "dimples" on the trunk, who knows what from - bike rack maybe? Left rear bumper corner scraped. More "dings" than a less-than-two-year-old car should have. And those "stains" on the front seat? More like melted holes. And don't forget the slice in the door handle. Hey other than that, it was a nice car! The seller kept saying, "Oh, I didn't see that one" over and over again. Mind you, he washed it, and dried it, and waxed it.*eyeroll* I think we'll keep looking.

***Brewery research. In a previous post, I explained that my husband is involved in a brewery start up. It includes research, y'all. It's hard work, but someone has to do it. And I wouldn't be a good wife if I didn't support him and help him out, right?

It's hard work doing research.

***A trip to the grocery store wouldn't normally have been note worthy, but I'd been to Starbucks AND the brewery, so I had to use the restroom, if you know what I mean. Upon entering the stall, while simultaneously trying not to touch anything with any part of my skin, whatsoever, (cause you know how much I like public restrooms, NOT) I noticed the overflowing in-stall trash receptacle. Because sticking out of it was a First Response Early Pregnancy test box. No, I didn't look to see if the stick was in there, that's gross, people.

But it did send my mind racing. What makes someone take it in the store bathroom? Were they are so excited they just had to know RIGHT NOW? Or were they so worried they had to know RIGHT NOW? Elated? Worried? Horrified? Relieved? Scared? Happy? That's like a whole writing prompt of possibilities all by itself. Imagine the stories we could spin.

What did YOU do over the weekend? Surely it was more exciting that checking out the bathroom trash can. Just sayin'.

***Ally
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A Mother's Teachings

Dear Mom,

I never realized how hard your job was until at age 29, I first held my newborn son in my arms.  I called you, and through tears said, "I love him so much."

Through the good and bad, I am the person I am today in a large part because of you.  Here are some of my favorite things that you have given me:

     1.  Honesty.  Sometimes you were brutally honest, but I knew you would always tell the truth and that has shaped the way I live my life.

     2.  Intelligence.  No offense to Dad, but my love of reading and writing (along with pretty good spelling and grammar) came from you.

     3.  Thriftiness.  Remember the dented can store and all those "bargain basements" you dragged us to as kids?  Because of you, I never buy anything that isn't on sale or a good bargain.  My husband thanks you for this one, too.

     4.  Sewing.  You made a lot of our clothes as kids.  Remember the Raggedy Ann dresses and raincoats?  It was natural for me to want to sew and create things because of you, hence my homemade curtains, quilts, and recovered chairs.

     5.  Calling bullshit.  You called it on my sisters and me, and I in turn can call it a mile away on my son.

So it is with great love, respect, and thanks that I wish you the happiest Mother's Day ever.

Do not forsake you mother's teaching.  It will be a garland to grace your head.  Proverbs 1:8-9


Love,
Lela
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Finding This Week's Bright Side

This week's lesson learned? Things that should go smooth, never do.

Take for instance the MRI I had scheduled for Tuesday. The orders from my doctor (and good friend) weren't right when I got there.

The results were a day late in getting back to my doctor (my good friend).

And when the results did come in? For the second time in less than a year, I've had an MRI on a body part come back showing absolutely nothing wrong. Great news, right? Yes. But it leaves me with no explanation for the constant pain, and bruising that occurs almost weekly on my foot. Even the doctor was left shaking his head.

In the meantime, the doctor (my good friend) would use the new fangled "e-prescriptions" to send a prescription to the pharmacy. Easy enough. So that evening I begged like a dog sweet-talked my husband into stopping at the pharmacy on his way home from racquetball to pick it up. (It has to be started in the morning and I really wanted to get it going) Except you know the pharmacy had no record of it. At all.

The next morning, I stopped by the doctor's office and picked up a written prescription and took it to my pharmacy after work. I waited in line behind no less than five people, all of whom had "problems" at the counter that took extra time, including the man directly in front of me who bathed in cigarette smoke. *cough, cough* At the counter, I was told that I'm so lucky because this drug is on their generic program and it's only four dollars! Yay! Oh, but they are out of it and it won't arrive until sometime the next afternoon.

Not so much. I took my prescription and headed for Target. Have I mentioned that I love Target? The pharmacy asked me to give them 5-7 minutes to get it filled. I'm sorry, did you say 5-7 minutes? Not 20? Not 30? Oh how I love you, Target.

Unfortunately for the women shopping the feminine hygiene aisle, the waiting chairs for the pharmacy are right at the end of the aisle. So while I waited and pretended not to look, a lady stood perusing the Summer's Eve Feminine Deodorizing Products to help you feel fresh!. After looking them over, she selected a can of feminine deodorant spray, two boxes of feminine cleansing cloths and a double box of douches. She then picked up a box of Vagisil, looked at it, but placed it back on the shelf. Based on the other products she was buying, I'm thinking she should have kept the Vagisil. Just sayin'. But I was really trying not to look! Seriously, who designed the store? This woman did not need me judging her, uh, feminine purchases. Imagine if I'd been a hot guy waiting for his prescription??


But today? Today it's Friday!

Today, as a representative of the guild I belong to, I will help someone who is fighting her way out of addiction and trying to grab a last chance at new life. My very small problems will be put into perspective.

Today is the beginning of my weekend (Friday's off, ya'll). Let's hear it for the weekend!

Today is going to be a better day!

***Ally
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I Heart Sarah

For the longest time I was confused by the following text/email slang:  <3

What does "less than three" mean?  Or was it a double-scoop ice cream cone on its side?  Are you with me, people?  You either think I am a moron, or a really low-tech mom. 

Before you start leaving comments with the answer, no need.  I figured it out all on my own.  It's a cute little heart.  On its side.  Awww.  

So you can imagine my shock and awe at the recent text exchange with my 14-year-old son:

Me:  Burrito?  Mom
Son:  Yes!  I <3 Sarah

As you may know, people can program their fancy cell phones with automatic signatures, so you don't have to type your name or message at the end of every text.  My little, sweet son USED to have "God, Country, Corps" at the end of his texts.

I guess he hearts Sarah more.

Sad sigh. And yes, his father and I tease him relentlessly about it.  Just picture us using our most annoying high-pitched voices singing, "I heart Sarah".

He asked for it.

-Lela
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The Case Of Mistaken Identity

I arrived at the ballpark just before the end of the first game of a double header for my son's team. (That's two games back to back for you non-baseball folks.) Last games of the high school season.

I walked in from the parking lot, bundled in my coat, sunglasses on, blankets over one arm, bleacher seat and purse over the other arm, a bag of Pirate's Booty dangling from my fingertips.

The assistant coach, who also happened to have been my son's middle school coach, was standing in the dugout as I passed. He got a giant smile on his face and said, "Hi! How are you doing?" as if he was truly interested and happy to see me.

In a split second these thoughts ran through my mind: okay I know you actually really like my son and have for several years but you coaches have no interaction with the parents at all and you've never really seen us together and I haven't made the end of season banquet for the last three years due to work conflicts so you didn't meet me there and you don't even work at the school and I think you have no freaking idea who I am.

"Hi! I'm great! How are you?" I replied with my largest, cheerful smile.

Yeah, he totally thinks I'm someone else. Just sayin'.

***Ally
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Post It Note Tuesday

If you want to play along, click the post-it for Only Parent Chronicles above!

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I've Been Replaced By Beer

Beer has overtaken my husband.

No, not drinking it. Well, yeah, he drinks it sometimes too, but that's not the problem.

He's on the board of Flying Bike Cooperative Brewery being started in Seattle. It's only the second one in the country, the other being Black Star Co-op in Austin, Texas.

If you are unfamiliar with co-op's in general, essentially they are member owned and democratically run. Each member owns one share of the brewery and has one vote on operating decisions.

It's a fabulous idea, and makes his dreams of being a brewery owner just a little bit of a reality. Along with many other members.

The problem, if there is one, would be the time this project consumes. He's a major contributor to their facebook page and twitter account, which we bloggers know can eat your time up like a sponge in a puddle of water. Then there are the weekly conference calls on Wednesday nights and the weekly in-person meetings on Saturday mornings (which always run into the afternoon). With an occasional emergency conference call, many emails, texts and phone calls thrown in.

And of course, there are the beer blogs that must be followed and read. And research - lots and lots of research.

Oh, and let's not forget the Friday night "Research Projects" which involve visiting and sampling at various breweries around Seattle. Of which there are many. If you think we have lots of coffee here, you should see how many craft breweries there are. (Okay, I usually get to go on those, too. Except this last Friday when I was a good baseball mom wrapped in a blanket on the bleachers. Grrr.)

And if that wasn't enough to wet your thirst, did I mention he's a home brewer? That's how he got into this in the first place! This is what took over on Sunday:

 At least he does it outside now instead of stinking up the house!

It's a science, you see. Or something.

And all of this? All of this is my fault. He developed this love of craft beer (fka: microbrews) when he moved to Seattle with me. Twelve years ago I bought him a "Beer In A Bag" homebrew kit. Next thing I knew he was visiting homebrew supply stores (I had no idea they existed at the time). Lots of grain, malt, wort, hops, yeast and swear words later, we now have a kegorator in our garage with taps into our pantry.

Some people (who I envy) have wine coolers or fridges or even cellars.
I have a kegorator in my garage.

Did I mention I prefer wine?

Sigh.

Alright, I do like beer occasionally, too. And because I love my husband, I will say - he makes really good beer. In fact, at a tasting the board held, he got extremely good feedback on the beer he took. And he's smart and an asset to the group and the board due to his diligence in research and both his common sense and business sense. I hope the brewery is a success, I really, really do.

***Ally
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