Dude, Where's My Car?

Ferrari 250 Testarossa (replica), originally uploaded by diahn.


So. Yeah.


You know how Mondays are always a little crazy and hectic and irritating because you have to squeeze your suddenly weekend-expanded life back into the small space that seems to exist for everything on weekdays? My Mondays are particularly hectic, as they involve multiple tennis lessons, piano lessons and up until this week, puppy physical therapy. I spend most of Monday driving my car from one side of town to the other, always frantic to get some place on time.


Yesterday, Dr. SmartyPants had an early meeting, and was out the door at about 7 am, so I sat back down on the couch for a few minutes to drink the remainder of my coffee before waking the boys to get our day started. He walked out the door, and within a minute walked back in.


"Did you put your car in the garage?" he asked.


"No. It wouldn't fit with all the furniture refinishing going on - of course I didn't put it in the garage. Wait. Why?"


"It's not outside."


"Are you kidding?"


"No."


I walk to the front door and stare rather stupidly at the space that once boasted a new-to-me Ford. I blinked. I walked back into the house and went to the garage, thinking that perhaps I'd had a bout of sleep-furniture-and-car-moving.


Nope. No car there.


"Did you lock it when you got home from the store?"

"I don't know. I usually do. But I don't know. There's no glass on the driveway. Didn't you drive it to get supper?"

"No. I took my truck."

"Then I guess I didn't lock it. Dang."

"How could they have taken it without a key?"

And that's when it hit me. The spare keys were in the center console. I'd rushed off to the store the day before and couldn't find my regular keys. I grabbed the spare set and when I got to the store, I realized I had my regular keys hooked to my purse. I threw the spare set into the center console, thinking I'd get them out when I got home.

I've never even taken those keys out of the house before Sunday.

We stared at each other for a while. Then the Smarty called the county sheriff's office. We learned something interesting: When you report your car stolen, the police don't come out to your house. They just put your info into the stolen car database.

It made me feel a little neglected.

We called the bank and the insurance companies. We realized that there was a housekey on that set of spare keys, so we figured we would need to change locks. I started calculating the value of the tennis gear in the back. I texted the boys' tennis coach to see if we could borrow racquets.

I felt numb.

Someone stole my car. MY car. my CAR. In 43 years of living, this has never happened to me. I couldn't believe it. We were all stunned. My neighbors were stunned.

We live in a safe neighborhood. I lived in Virginia for two years and left my house here vacant, with my neighbors looking out for it, and never had an issue. It's a tight little cul-de-sac where we are constantly up in each others' business.  How could this happen here?

I found out later that other neighbors' cars had been rifled through, but apparently I was the only idiot who actually left the thieves a gift of keys.

The good news is that the police found the car, not more than three miles away from our house, in another neighborhood. I can only assume that someone walked out of their door to go to work and thought, "Did I sleep-purchase a new car?" Realizing that they hadn't, they called the police to report a found vehicle. We picked it up before lunch time.

The detective in charge of the case called later in the afternoon and told us they believed it was kids, out looking for exactly what they found in our driveway. They drove it around until they had to get home and just left it in another neighborhood. He said we should be thankful the car was not damaged, and that all the tennis gear was still in the back. And we are. We're very thankful.

All we lost was time. Dr. SmartyPants lost a day's work. We lost $150 in new door hardware. We lost $175 in towing charges. We'll lose whatever it costs to get a vehicle re-keyed. I lost a lot of sleep last night, waking at every. single. noise, wondering if my car was still in the garage. We lost a lot of peace and tranquility.

We lost all of that so that some jackass juvenile detention reject could drive a Ford Escape around the burbs.

I'm still pissed. 

Lazy, Hazy

I shot some black and white film in our Canon AE-1 a while back, where a while back equals last summer. I just got the film developed this week. I'm always on top of things around here.

This is the corner of my front porch next to my gigantic oak leaf hydrangea, and it's one of the nicest places to sit and watch the cul-de-sac go by while sipping a cool beverage. The hydrangea provides shade and perfume, made all the more sweet by the unrelenting heat. I'm half-hidden when I sit there, so I can listen in on conversations and squabbles, territorial disputes and sibling battles, unseen and unnoticed.

It's kind of an eavesdropper's heaven.

Quietude, Dude.

I keep thinking of things on which to blog, but stacked up against the storms of last week and the news from last night, everything I think of seems trivial and banal.

And honestly? That's okay with me. If I'm going to be faced with the option of having a quiet life that sometimes delivers no blog-fodder, and one that is filled with mass destruction and terrorist stalking, I'll choose the quiet, thank you very much.

Peace and blessings, y'all...

six times six is thirty-six

You know how much I like to spout math facts on this blog...in this case, it actually applies. There was much multiplication in our yard this weekend.

Two ornamental grasses multiplied into six and left the front yard for the back. The two estimated hours of time to dig those grasses up multiplied into four and left Dr. SmartyPants a little tired and cranky.

Six golden ruffle day lilies multiplied to become 36 and spread all over front and back yards. I hadn't actually planned to do that job, so the time taken to do it actually multiplied by infinity and lasted the rest of the day.

But...in the end...

the math paid off.

It always does.

In an Instant

I'm just going to pop in here for a moment and say that the instant dc show opening was SO COOL. There were over 200 people that came through, and at some times during the evening it seemed that they were all there at the same time. It was loud and frenetic and energetic and so exciting.

I met each of the other photographers and was absolutely blown away by how incredibly nice everyone was. It's so odd to meet people for whom you have some online knowledge - you feel as if you know them, somehow, but have never seen them, nor heard their voices. I had such a great time talking with them and firmly affixing a voice and personality with their images.



My boys were fantastic - eagerly viewing all the action and taking their own photos of everything...



And Dr. SmartyPants was so wonderful and supportive. I think I'm going to keep him. Plus...he looks so cute in his new groovy glasses, don't you think?

By the way...did anyone notice that he jumped out of obscurity and commented on a post last week? First time in, well, ever!

Hi honey!

Make sure you click on this picture, and view it larger...It's really cool...

Touring the Capitol

If you've been to DC and you've taken a tour of the Capitol building, you know what kinds of treasures those halls hold, right? Frescoes, statuary, documents, whisper spots, ghosts of Senators past...oh, no, wait...that was a live one, sorry...

Anyhow...we'd been to the new Visitor Center and looked around at some of the statues and read up on the full-size model of Freedom and perused the gift shop and ate in the cafeteria, but we hadn't actually had a tour yet, because it involves pre-planning and we're lazy. But a few weeks ago, when it occurred to us that our time in DC was winding down quickly, we scheduled a public tour through the Visitor Center and the boys, Dr. SmartyPants and I headed down on a Friday to check it out.

We were in a group of about 30-40 people, all wearing headphones so we could listen to the very bored tour guide tell us about the paintings, etc., and we spent approximately 2.3 seconds at each stop (please don't stop for more than just a second to get a photo...we have to move a lot of people through here...). While we saw some really amazing things, and had a nice time, the whole tour took about 30 minutes and when the guide dropped us off at the gift shop, we were kind of confused...you know...like, that's it? He told us to feel free to walk over to our representative's office and pick up passes for the House Chamber, if we wanted to see that, and have a nice daythankyouforvisitingyournation'scapitol.

We didn't have time to go to see our representative that day, but I decided that when Kristi came to visit, we'd stop by together to pick up gallery passes before the tour, and that would at least extend the experience for a little while. So, I scheduled another tour and thought that was that.

On the day we decided to tour the Capitol, Kristi, Derek, Joshua and I stopped by the Rayburn Building to visit our representative and pick up our passes for the House Chamber gallery. When we got there I decided to ask the staffer that gave us the passes if the representative was in.

Two minutes later, we were escorted into his office, we had our picture made and he invited us to sit down on the couch. He was only in the office for a couple of hours, so we had caught him by chance, but he sat down with us and talked to the boys about his job as a congressman, how laws are passed, why he has such a nice view of the Capitol dome from his window, etc. He spent about 15 minutes with us, and as we were walking out of the office, he asked if we had taken the tour of the Capitol yet.

I'm especially proud of the way Joshua took great care with his personal hygiene that morning...Sheesh, kid...buy a hairbrush...

We told him no, and he asked his staff in the reception area to please give us a tour. Now, they schedule tours through the office, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, but they took us right then.

For TWO HOURS, people. Mr. Johnson, our tour guide, took us (the FOUR of us) all over that building. We saw the crypt and the rotunda, where we could stand and gawk as long as we wanted. We experienced the whispering spot in the old House chamber, but also saw where Lincoln sat. We heard about every painting in the rotunda, including the one where Jefferson is standing on Adams' toe. We walked through the halls on the Senate side, passing Joe Lieberman in the process. We walked through the old Supreme Court chamber and the old Senate chamber, wandered the halls on the House side and rubbed our hands on the toe of Will Rogers' shoe for good luck. We walked up the stairs that the Presidents walk down to be inaugurated. We sat in the House chamber while he pointed out the bullet hole from the shooting by Puerto Rican Nationalists in 1954...



In short...it was an amazing tour. We talked about it the rest of the week. We pitied Dr. SmartyPants that he hadn't been with us for that one. We bragged to family and friends and anyone else who would listen.



So the lesson here is...take the time to run by and say hi to your Representatives and Senators, people...they really do work for you, after all...

You Say it's Your Birthday?

duhnuhnuhnuhnuh

It's my birthday too, yeah.



Top Ten Reasons I'm Glad to be 42:

1. I'm still here, baby. 
2. I have an amazing family. They made beignets for me this morning.
3. My friends are the best.
4. It's twice as much as 21, so I'm now twice as legal as I used to be.
5. People are a lot more impressed when I say I am training for a 5K than they were when I was 30.
6. I didn't have a Magical Unicorn Toe when I was 21.
7. If you Google "Magical Unicorn Toe," I'm the first listing.
8. I am still less than half the age of my grandparents, who are still living, which means I'm not yet middle aged and won't be for another five or six years.
9. My car insurance is at an all time low.
10. Another year older is another year to learn something I didn't know before. Like how to not end sentences in a preposition. Dang.

Save the Drama for Your Mama

This was today - the day when I was proven to be correct about something. The day when "I know you can" became "You did it!"

It was a good day.

My boys ran 1.5 miles with me - 20 minutes of non-stop action. No...we aren't fast...just persistent...tortoises, not hares...

Up until this time (they've been following the couch to 5K program along with me, but were a few weeks behind...) the most they've ever run at one stretch was 8 minutes on Wednesday. There has been a lot of verbal coaching along the way - most of it consisting of things like:

• Keep your breathing steady and quiet - all that noise is wasting energy!
• Keep your shoulders still and your chest up - all that extra movement is wasting energy!
• Find a focus point - calm your mind - all that tension is wasting energy!
• Save the drama for later - all those histrionics are wasting energy!

Do you sense a theme here?

And today - after 5 solid weeks of dragging them to the track and begging them not to stop and pleading with them to just listen and do what I tell them and they'll make it and that they can do it because if I can do it they can do it and come on for pete's sake, just quit crying (ha) and you're not going to throw up, but if you do, make sure you get it in the grass and you can do it you can do it if you put your mind to it...

They did it.

Way to go, guys. Mama's so proud of you both.

I Don't Mean to Brag. Oh Wait. Yes...Yes I Do.

Do you see that bread up there?

That gorgeous, artisan whole wheat loaf of yummy deliciousness?

I made it.

With my own two hands. And a mixer up to the point where it got too gooey and I cast it aside and plunged my own two hands into the goop.

Now. Those who know me know how out of character this whole process is.

A: I did not use a mix.
B: I did not pay someone else to do it.
C: It involved the oven.
4: My hands got gooey stuff on them, and
E: I actually enjoyed the process.

I am not sure what has happened to me.

The recipe I used was from the back of the flour bag, but I found it here, if you're in the mood for a yummy home made bread. It is NOT a dinner roll recipe, despite what the photo might lead you to believe, BUT as I don't bake much outside the occasional birthday cake (from a mix) or lemon poppy seed muffins (from a mix) or brownies (from a mix), I didn't have a loaf pan.

I didn't actually realize I didn't have a loaf pan until I was midway through the first rise and I went to look for my loaf pan and remembered it was in Tennessee, and then I panicked, and then I improvised. I just cut the dough into 8 pieces and rolled it up into balls and slapped it into a round cake pan and made mini loaves.

And then this morning, I cut a mini roll-like loaf into 5 teeny slices and added butter and cinnamon sugar and broiled it and promptly died of glee.

Park it Here.

My gym teacher in the 8th grade was named Ms. Park.

I had a weird habit of saying everyone's names backward in my head back then. In fact, I still do it.

Linda...Adnil
Melinda...Adnilem
Derek...Kered
Joshua...Auhsoj

Hi.  My name is Nhaid Nosnhoj Tto.

I used to ride in the backseat of the car and point out helpful things like "Hey Mom... Mom... Mom."

"What, dear."

"Did you know that Ford spelled backward is Drof? That's weird. Drof. D.R.O.F"

Mom...whispering, "you're weird."

"What Mom?"

"Oh, nothing, sweetie. That's very interesting. Let's play the quiet game."

So, anyway. Back to Ms. Park...

See... what happens when I play this little mental game is that IN MY MIND that becomes the person's name.

So her name was Sm. Krap.

Which meant that every time I walked in gym class, I snickered and said, "some crap," under my breath.

Which could explain why I was always used as the demonstration target for Dodgeball...

"JOHNSON! Go stand on the Cougar in the middle of the gym. I want to show the rest of the class the "No Hit Zones."

I still flinch every time I see a ball coming toward me.

Avert Your Eyes

I adore this photo of Joshua. It just, well, it looks just like him. This is the real Joshua - the goofball kid that makes stupid jokes and then laughs at them whether anyone joins in or not. He's such a little comedian.
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The running thing is still going - ankles are still holding out. My boys have slacked off and I had to get them back on track (literally! on track!) today. It's exhausting being the cheerleader sometimes.

"Come on! You can do it! Just one more minute!"

Combine that with the fact that I'm also the coach...

"Head up! Don't slump! Faster! Go Go Go!"

And also one of the athletes trudging alongside them, and it makes for one tired mama. The only way I can figure out to make it work is to do my run (so I can run at my ideal pace) AND theirs (so I can motivate them to not give up), which is great for my fitness level, but not always great for my attitude.

"Why would you do that?" I can hear some of you asking...

Well - here's the thing.  I have one child who is a natural born runner. He runs with ease, looks comfortable doing it, can run farther and faster than my other one.  But he struggles with motivation..."why am I doing this again?"

The other child struggles a bit with gross motor control - he slumps and shuffles and drags his feet. He gets cramps and pains and has a harder time breathing. He would honestly rather sit on a couch all day long every single day and stare at a wall than participate in most forms of exercise.

Like getting up and walking to the bathroom. Or breathing regularly.

BUT. Sitting on a couch all day and not moving is not really an option in this family. Not anymore, anyway. We (Dr. SmartyPants and I) have been guilty of couch potato-itis over the past decade. We've been watching our health slowly deteriorate into a post-40 haze of remember-whens, and we're just not going to continue down that slippery-slope.

So, yes - maybe on Friday I'll get up and go for my run early in the morning and then come home and drag my reluctant children out of the bed to go for theirs before it gets too hot...maybe I'll shuffle run alongside them for an extra 30 minutes of activity...maybe that's a little nuts...

But I'm operating on the belief that good habits will be forming in their little brains, that the satisfaction of a job well done will win out over the pull of the sofa, and that good triumphs over evil.

Okay. That last one may not fit there, but I felt the need for three points.

For now?

Now I think I need a nap.

TFR and the Leftovers

Well, since I talked about Chico yesterday, I feel like I have to spend a little time on Raikki today. Sweet, sweet Raikki...the polar opposite of Chico.  Where Chico growls, Raikki whimpers. Where Chico charges, Raikki ducks and covers. Where Chico snaps, Raikki slobbers.

And slobbers.

And then he might drool.

Anyhow - Raikki had a bit of surgery whilst we were in Knoxville. We waited until we could go to our vet there, because they are awesome, as I may have mentioned yesterday. We also waited because the cost for the particular surgery that he needed was twice as expensive at the vet here in Arlington.

No joke. DOUBLE. THE. COST.

Just to remove a couple of things. You know. Yes. Those.

So. The boys were curious about the surgery, given the nature of it. They know just enough about reproduction to understand that it takes a male and a female, a sperm and an egg, but they understand it from more of a fish perspective...the female lays some eggs, the male swims over it and deposits the sperm - there's no contact between the two.

They also understand that mammals carry their young in their bellies, and therefore things must work differently between fish and mammals.

After we dropped Raikki off at the vet for his surgery, as we were driving home, Derek pipes up from the back seat.

"Hey Mom." (because every sentence that proceeds from his mouth must be prefaced by that phrase, regardless of whether there is anyone else in the car or room at that particular time.)

"Yes?" (because if I don't say "yes," he will just say "hey mom" again until I answer.)

"How does removing Raikki's testicles prevent him from making puppies?"

*hands gripping steering wheel a little more tightly* "Well, honey - you know that to make babies, you need an egg and sperm, right? Testicles are the sperm factory, so if he doesn't have any, he can't make any sperm."

"Oh. Okay."

*hands relax briefly*

"Hey Mom?"

*stomach clenches, hands grip* "Yes?"

"I know you need an egg and a sperm and all that, but how do the egg and the sperm get together?"

*panic. hyperventilate. slow down. remember to drive.* "Well, son. That's a bigger conversation than we can have in the car. We'll talk about it with your dad when he gets home, okay?"

"Okay."

*pass out. wake up. continue to drive home.*

"Hey Mom?" (this time it's Joshua.)

"Yes?" (the same rules apply.)

"I have a new name for Raikki." (remember his acronym fascination?)

"What's that?"

"TFR. Get it? Testicle Free Raikki!" (much laughter ensues, including from me.)

Later that afternoon, we headed back to the vet to pick him up, and the boys were rather fascinated with how things looked different.

"Hey guys - we'll have to be really careful with Raikki and make sure his stitches don't get pulled or anything."

"Stitches? Where does he have stitches?" (Derek again.)

"OH. Right." (as it dawns on him.) "In his leftovers..."

Hello, Lady...

I saw my first ladybug of the season yesterday at the park. She (because they are all girls, right?) flew into the side of my face and then dropped down onto the strap of my bag, and the contrast of that lime green with her deep red shell was just so startling.

I'm still amazed that my iPhone managed to capture it so clearly. Maybe I should ditch the DSLR and just go all iPhone, all the time.

Naaaahhhh....
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Today is the big book sale at the library. I'm planning on getting there as soon as it opens, with a couple of my big grocery sacks and all the cash I can dig up.

I love library sales. It's like one of those everything's a dollar stores, but with stuff you actually want. I'm not sure where I'll put all the treasures I'm sure I'll find, but I figure if necessary, the boys can share one twin sized bed, right?

I have my priorities.
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Why does the forecast always start to call for Saturday rains as soon as soccer season starts?
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We'll likely go to another car show on Sunday, barring any leftover Soccer-Saturday rain. This one features British motorcars, so I am going to try and find an Italian man to offend.
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And finally - I stumbled on this photostream yesterday at Flickr and was completely awestruck. I should have linked to it yesterday, in honor of Earth Day, but it's still appropriate...enjoy..

Have a spectacular weekend, people!

How-To Guide: The Procrastination Edition

I thought I would walk you through a day in the life of a top-notch procrastinator.

That would, of course, be me.

Today, we had planned to meet up with a group of homeschoolers at a park nearby, but the rain kept us in, and honestly? I was kind of glad. I wanted to go, but I also wanted to find a little time to work on a drawing or painting or something visually artistic and creatively engaging.

So. After we finished ciphering for the day, and eating lunch, and playing with the dogs and, oh - who knows what else, I sent the boys downstairs to clean their cesspool room.  I figured I'd have an hour or two of quiet time and get something done.

Ahem.

Let me just walk you through what happens during two hours of quality procrastinating:

1. Sit down with mind-mapping notebook.
2. Stare at paper.
3. Decide I need a snack.
4. Go to kitchen - look for snack in basket on top of fridge.
5. Feel nasty greasy residue on top of fridge. shudder.
6. Mix up a batch of Mrs. Meyer's lemon verbena cleaner and grab kitchen chair to get to top of fridge easily.
7. See grimy build-up on cabinet doors, and pretty much everything else in kitchen.
8. Cry a little.
9. Start spraying at top of wall and work my way down.
10. Notice how much Mrs. Meyer's lemon verbena smells like my Aveda salon.
11. Smile a little.
12. Go through an entire roll of paper towels while scrubbing all vertical and horizontal surfaces in my entire kitchen.
13. Realize I forgot to eat my snack.
14. Steal some of Joshua's popcorn.
15. Two hours later, stop, look around, smile, sniff.
16. Clean out sink and put cleaner away.
17. Receive text from Dr. SmartyPants that he's on the way home.
18. Realize I forgot to cook supper.
19. Realize there's no freakin' way I'm cooking dinner in this sparkly clean kitchen.
20. Order pizza.

And that, people, is how it is done. Not one piece of art paper was harmed in the making of this list.

(although one entire tree's worth of paper towels were eradicated from the planet. go earth month. woot.)

Saturday in the Park

I Am (not) Bossy

...but I got to hang out with her last night.



And I couldn't resist giving her a little something to remember me by...



That's Bossy's great dane, Stella, and I was so tickled to see that she made the painting her current favorite thing.

I had such a good time, meeting all those people that live in my computer - it was almost like having real life friends.

From what I hear.

Oh, that's a joke. I have real friends. They just all live at least 500 miles away from me.

sigh.

AAAaaanyway...here's a little taste of the fun we had -


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Yellah Bells

Ahhh...Saturday.

Actually, the last 8 Saturdays started the same as this one...early. My soccer players had to go to soccer school at 9, which meant we had to leave the house by 8, which meant we had to eat breakfast by 7, which had me up by 6.

Which, of course, is just like every other day, so it's only a mental irritation.

Because I'm still 14 at heart, and feel like I DESERVE to sleep in on Saturdays.
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Scenes like the one above, though, make waking up before the dawn worthwhile.

My great-grandmother, Mama Carrie, in Alabama, always called forsythias, "yellah bells." I would write that out as yellow, but that's not how she said it.  I had no idea they were called anything else until I moved to Tennessee and made the mistake of asking for a "yellah bell" at the garden center.

After a blank stare and a couple of blinks of confusion, I called my mom and found out that the plant is actually called a forsythia. I've since learned that there are at least two other plants called yellow bells. Who knew?

I think it's my favorite sign of spring - all those bright yellow blossoms look like little (yellah) baby suns.

Plus? They remind me of my Mama Carrie...

Hmph.

We're back in Arlington.
We're tired.
We're out of milk.

The week in Knoxville flew by at a breakneck speed, leaving me with very little time to seek out free internet access, as evidenced by a complete lack of posting, other than a couple of quickies on quirk. I took photos and read a couple of books and educated a couple of punks and spent a few good hours with some spectacular girlfriends and a few good hours with a spectacular hair stylist (who happens to be one of those spectacular girlfriends.)

I also had a chance to slip in a meet up with Linda to talk about our dismal lack of creativity and what the Joe Biden we're going to do about it. That's a subject of much debate and contemplation. We'll talk later.

A certain SmartyPants had a birthday, too.



And Hot Wheels were had by all.

Now?

Gotta go get some milk, man.

You Scream, I Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream

Yeah. We're reveling in it. We know it may not last, you see - last year, as I recall, Easter was miserably cold and rainy and gloomy, and it was a week later than it is this year.

As soon as we finished school today, we rushed out to the park to enjoy the sunshine and warm weather. Then we came home. Then we took the dogs for a walk. Then we came home again. I think we'll have to go out at least one more time before we can call it a day.

*****2 hours later******

Yes, indeed - as soon as Dr. SmartyPants got home, we went for another walk with the pups around the park.

It was lovely.

And now?

I believe I'll have a cupcake.

Six Days to March

The Smarty got home last night, after a week (a L O N G week) away. He travels quite a bit, but rarely for more than a night or two, so this trip was a bit of a doozy, especially when he was originally scheduled to be back on Friday.

So, we were standing in the kitchen while I cooked supper, talking about everything he missed while he was gone, when I related a story to him about Smarty Junior, up there in the picture. Anyone who knows us, and knows Derek, knows that he's a unique individual...we like to call him "quirky"...and that he often exists only in his own private world. It's part of what makes him so sweet, honestly - but it can also make you a little crazy sometimes.

The story I was relating to Senior Smarty was this: while we were working on spelling words, I asked Derek to spell "moment." He looked up from his notebook, pencil in hand, and said...

"Remember when my tooth fell out all by itself and it didn't even bleed or anything? That was so weird."

*blink* *blink*

I don't know. Maybe he was thinking about significant moments in his life? How we wondered for a moment if he had swallowed the tooth? If the tooth fairy had hovered for a moment before leaving his dollar?

I just stared at him for a moment, and caught his eye. He shook his head and said, "that had nothing to do with spelling moment, sorry. M-O-M-E-N-T."

So, anyway - Smarty and I were laughing about it in the kitchen, wondering where he gets that spacey head of his, and all that. We got supper ready and sat down at the dining room table together for the first time in a week...SO nice.

Interjection:  I'm not a great cook. I do okay, but am constantly frustrated at my inability to cook a nice, juicy chicken breast...ALWAYS turns out dry. We'll now return to the story at hand. The very long story at hand. Please accept my apologies.

We're talking and eating and laughing, when I remark that the chicken was pretty good - not too dry and wow, I'm so glad. I get some mhmms from the boys, and then Dr. SmartyPants says,

"Man, my eustachion tubes are standing wide open from being on that airplane."

*blink* *blink*

Derek: "Dad! That has absolutely nothing to do with Mom's chicken!"

And so we come full circle...
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Six things I love about my family:

1. We laugh. A lot. At each other.
2. We all fit on one couch.
3. Did I mention the laughing?
4. Creativity is a prerequisite to any activity.
5. Snuggling is, too.
6. They tell me my cooking is fantastic. Except when it isn't. And then they tell me they just weren't very hungry.