We Are Fam-i-ly! I Got All My Sistah's With Me!

I found this old picture and thought I'd post, even though it has to be at least a year and a half old. I have several recent pictures, but I thought this one was just....touching. I love that my daughters are friends. Lately, Reese has been very concerned with her sister's emotions...and is quick to let me know when Quincy is upset. Of course, now that Quincy is talking she tells me herself. (That girl will NOT be ignored when she's got something to say. I love it.)
When I saw this picture:
I thought about the friendship my MiMa (grandma) has with her sisters, Ruth and June.

I thought about the friendship that my mom has with her sisters.

I thought about the friendship I have with my sisters.

I thought about my little girls.

I am grateful that this legacy of friendship, love, and sincere appreciation is already visible in my 4 and 2 year old daughters.

I hope they stay best friends forever.

Just When You Think You're In Control, Just When You Think You Got A Hold, Just When You Got On a Roll...

How Did I Miss This?

Well if you read Kasey's blog, then you've heard the whole story already. Basically, girls weekend o' fun TOFW extravaganza ended on a high note. Free VIP seats front and center to Soul Asylum. who's that? you say...you know

"runaway train, never comin' ba-ack,
runaway on a one way tra-ack"

-those guys.
It was awesome.




Story Time:

Sooo...we are in the lobby before the concert and notice this huge...i meah hu-UGE dude chillin' on one of the teeny tiny sofas there. He is wearing the largest pair of red overalls I have EVER SEEN. Like they were baggy on him even. Even his sunglasses (that he had on at night, inside) were huge. I think, "WOW. BIG GUY." and then I see the SMOKIN' six foot stick-with-blonde-hair-and-boobs-trophy girl he has with him and I think "how the heck did THAT guy get THAT girl?"
Ok Ok, I don't want my comment box to be full of comments like "hey now, fat guys can get girls, too." Of course they can, that's not what I'm sayin' at all...
You just should have seen the guy....or the girl. Or even just the overalls on the guy. Or just the rack on the girl. It doesn't matter, the two did NOT match up. Like rap stars. What chick wants a guy with a diamond in his front tooth? Yet they always have a 6 foot rent-a-hottie on each arm. What's that all about?

THEN I think, ok. He must be loaded. He LOOKS loaded.

YEAH he's LOADED!
Imagine my surprise when he sat behind the drums on the stage.

He's in the band.
She's with the band.
Life makes sense again.

I could be with the band...

This is why I shouldn't dance.

Things I See on Craigs List

I still haven't found a bike for Reese. I'd like to get her one for her birthday, and since that is 2 months away, I'm using the time to find her a gently used one. No luck so far, but here are a few other "treasures" I've discovered, that I thought you might enjoy.

PostingID: 833300301

Are those tomahawks?

PostingID: 831327793
Pair of aluminum lions - stand approximately 4' high. Base is 34"x21" $300.00


PostingID: 840962673
i have a stand up frezzer that works really well and i need to get it gone so firt hunderd dollars takes it can hold alot of deer meat


PostingID: 830882807
Nice Hooker Entertainment in Good condition. $225 OBO


PostingID: 839052268
Our Weekly Special at Hunt Family Treasures just got better. Bring in our ad from the Star Shopper and get an additional 10% off this excellent matching set of Cherry Parlor Chairs and Tea Table.

Available at Hunt Family Treasures,
Watch for our Big T-Rex dinosaur on the north side of the highway.
Just in case you DON'T know what a giant t-rex looks like....they've provided a picture.

If I Had A Stick Of Gum And You Didn't Have One, I'd Break It Right In Two...Give Half Of It To You

So my neighbors are moving. (no, not the neighbors we've been hoping would move.....the OTHER one's we've been hoping would move. The unemployed neighbors renting across the street from them, with the 13 year old and her LIVE IN 19 yr OLD BOYFRIEND (that she likes to fight with in the driveway), and 28 year old son that washes his 2 trucks (with the word REDNECK in vinyl lettering across the back windows) almost every day, and 2 rats (I mean boston terriors) that run around the neighborhood. One of them is 1/2 blind and the other is MISSING HIS NOSE and only has one cheek. Their names are Itty and Bitty.

The mom is very kind, and has even brought over a couple of "gifts" for my girls. One being a broken Easy Bake Oven, and the other an oversized stuffed bear, covered in mites and dog hair. Both "disappeared" during the night, and were long forgotten when I provided a new, CLEAN, replacement toy in the morning to distract them.

The heavens have opened and they are moving. We were about to break open the sparkling cider and celebrate when there was a knock on my door.

It was the son, holding a full container of Tide laundry detergent.
"Uh, I bought the wrong soap, and Mom is allergic to this kind. It's a full bottle and she thought you should have it"

(by the way, check out my new glass container for my powdered detergent! It holds an entire box of soap. Isn't it cute?)

Is it bad that I still questioned using the detergent? I figure, it's soap. Self-cleaning right? I'm sure there is nothing wrong with it.
Wait. What is wrong with me?!

The guilt set in...they really are nice people, just a little odd. I am a bad person for judging others. And for making fun of them after I judge them. I thanked him, accepted the gift and wished them good luck in their new home. (look out Kim, you have new neighbors.)
But he didn't leave. The transaction was not over. Nice Boy wanted to talk for awhile. I was all filled with guilt, so I engaged in small talk for a few minutes. Small talk was not enough. Nice Boy let me know the "great news" that he just filed for SSI, because he's "just too tired all the time to have a job", and that his mom is going to get it also, because now that he's over 25, his dad won't have to pay child support anymore. (Ok. I'm done. Go home, nice boy. This conversation is too uncomfortable for me, and if it doesn't end soon you will end up on my blog. Thank you for the free soap.)

He eventually left.
Maybe I should change my ways, and quit laughing at the expense of others.

But 10 minutes later, he was back with another parting gift. Nice Boy said his mom thought I could also use this gift, and they "harldy ever use it anymore". I just stared.I wished I'd had been wearing rubber gloves to accept it. Reese, of course, fell in love with it immediately, and is still begging to "let us keep it". (yah. like a pet.)



Charly, why don't you show us what's behind Door #1....

Why it's a plus size, sequined, spandex, iridescent flapper girl costume! Complete with a sequined hat.

What am I supposed to do with this? It is very stinky, and the feathers have little bugs that look like fruit flies in them. Seriously.

Sorry, Nice Boy. I don't think I'm going to quit mocking people ANY time soon.

OH Mister PIT, Mister PIT, Mister PIT-I-FUL ...Who Let You Down?

Today at Lowe's: no exaggeration.

Me: I'd like to replace 2 tall windows in my dining room with french doors. I think the windows I'd be tearing out might be taller than 80 inches (standard door height). If I have a door opening that is taller than 80 inches, can I special order doors in a standard width, but a non-standard height?

Jerk: They won't touch that. Lowe's Install won't do any door installation if it wasn't a door there before.

(I already know this, because I added a window to my kitchen in Green Bay, and Lowe's Install was zero help then as well.)

Me: Yes. I'm aware that Lowe's will not install the doors for me. I plan on installing it myself.

Jerk: You mean YOUR HUSBAND will install it, with his friends.

(seriously?!)

Me: NO. I mean ME. I will install the door. With MY friends.

Jerk: LAUGHS IN MY FACE. Once he can control his chuckles enough to speak, he gets very serious, and in a patronizing voice says. "Um. THAT would require the use of POW-ER TOOLS, you know."

Me: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! (yes I said that) Yes. I know what power tools are. I know how to use them, and I know what it would take to install a door. I'm going to install the door myself. Now, CAN YOU SPECIAL ORDER THEM IN A SPECIFIC HEIGHT?

Jerk: (looks at me, then looks at my kids) Why are you even looking at doors without your husband?

Me: What?! Because it is MY house, too. I don't go down to HIS office and pick out the doors there. PLUS, If I AM the one framing it in, then I AM going to pick it out.

(I am so irritated and offended at this point I decide to just leave.)

Jerk: Laughs sarcastically and shakes his head, "Yeah. Right. Well, good luck with that one."

Me: For REAL?! You know, I really don't appreciate your assumption that I don't know what I'm talking about.

Jerk: Well if you know what you are talking about then why even ask me questions? Since you're such an expert, and all, you should just go into business.

Me: I HAVE actually considered that. Maybe when my kids get older, I will. I CAN DO STUFF. I HAVE done this before. I completely gutted a 90 year old kitchen, and rebuilt it from the bare studs MYSELF, after I added a window. AND, I completely remodeled a different kitchen from floor to ceiling last year. MYSELF. I've put in 5 floors this summer, tore down 1 wall, built 4 walls and a shower, done the plumbing and electrical work to THREE bathrooms, and framed 2 doors. MYSELF. I'm not asking these questions just to waste your time.

Jerk: Oh no... I know ALL about your type. You come down here with your kids and your big ideas from a magazine, spend all your husband's money on projects, and then take them home for him to put together. Then YOU hang a picture up on the wall and take credit for the finished product. (laughs to himself with satisfaction for putting me in my place)

I.LOST. IT.

The momma bear swooped in and taught that young man a valuable lesson.

Me: HOW. DARE. YOU. JUDGE. ME.
How dare you take one look at me and my children, and assume that all I can do is shop and make babies. Every one of the tools in my garage has MY name on it, not my husbands...and I am 100% capable of installing that door myself, from start to finish.

How dare you send the message to my daughters that their mother is stupid, and just because they are girls, they'll never build something. I do believe in gender roles, but you are wrong. ANYONE is capable of improving and beautifying their home, including me.
You know NOTHING about me.
You are a salesperson and your job is to sell me a door, not tell me I CAN'T do it. What ever happened to "you can do it, we can help"? You can say, "Sayonara" to your commission, because when I DO buy my french doors, they will not be from Lowe's.

Reese (folding her arms): YEAH. (my favorite part)

Instead of going straight to management, I went to Carrie's house FUMING, and complained to her (and everyone else I talked to in the next 2 hours), about how I'd been mistreated, and ya-ya women's rights... until I smoke stopped coming out of my ears.

I need to go back, get his name, and complain. Maybe I'll stuff my bra and wear a pink shirt that says,
"Bank Breaker, Baby Maker" on it.

I used to avoid confrontation at all costs. I'm glad that today, at least, I told this guy how I felt. It felt good, but he is an idiot and didn't even care. I'm adding Jerk from Lowe's to Emily's list of things that must go.

Of Course She Brought Something To Crochet

"Hahahahahhaa!! Haaahaahahahaaa! HAHAHAHAHahahahaahaa!"

This Woman is in love with Michael McLean. Like she really LOVES him. He would begin a sentence, and before he had finished three words, she was laughing and finishing it for him. For example:

Michael: When I was a child, I
Loud Mouth: Hahahahaha!
Michael: had a metronome to
Loud Mouth: Hahahahhaa...metronome! Hahahaaahaaa!
Michael: help me rehearse long piano pieces
Loud Mouth: Hahahahhaa...yes you did, Michael!

I was going to kill her. Jerushia was going to kill her. Kasey wouldn't let us though, because she wanted to kill her first. Her AND the woman next to us TALKING ON HER CELL PHONE during the performances. If only that had been a knitting needle in her hand. On Saturday, we stalked her at the entrance and waited for her to sit to be sure we seated ourselves all the way across the room.

On to better things. The denim jumper. Who makes it and what possesses so many women buy them? Give me your dress size, 20 dollars, and 5 minutes in ANY department store and I am certain I can find a hundred ugly skirts on clearance that would still be more flattering. If you own a denim dress and you are offended by this post, well you should be.
Loose the jumper. Fast.
No this is not a picture of ME, silly..check out the denim carnival happening behind me! tisk tisk...are those flip flops? My mother never would have approved of that...(then again I wore jeans so there you go). Hey are those pigtails? I think so...
Like mother, like daughter, you can see why ms. carnival didn't stand a chance against these genetics.

They should just put this picture on the TOFW pamphlet. She represented a large percentage of the women in the room. I'd like to point out the fragment of a long denim skirt on the far right.

Oooh, the less common, khaki jumper.

The only thing that has changed about the jumper in the last 15 years is that now the denim comes in varying colors and floral prints. Look Michael, you sold another album!

what's that? Your jumper is at the cleaners? That's ok, a nice seersucker dress will do. Just be sure there is lace on the front and it ties in back.
Out of the 300 minivans in the parking lot, I'm guessing she drove this one:
or maybe this one:

this could have been her car:

These just happened to be vehicles we passed, I can't imagine how many "CTR", "RTW", "I HEART MY MISSIONARY", or "RULDS2?" stickers we might have found had we taken a lap through the parking lot. What we really should have done is check out "Jays Adult Boutique to see if there were any of these stickers in THAT parking lot. Now that's a story.

That's the last of St. Louis posts. Bravo if you've held on this long. Tomorrow's story involves Me, Lowes, and one door salesman/Jerk.

You Can Dance If You Want To...You Can Leave Your Friends Behind...

This pic is for "Humpty".

There is quite a resemblance between our "friend" from Karaoke night and the characters from Alice in Wonderland. For the rest of the post, and pics from Karaoke with "the sober girls" in St. Louis, visit Sarah, Courtney, or Kasey's blogs.
I know everyone thought that Tequila Mexican Karaoke was a total dive, but trust me, Charley's (our first attempt to find a Karaoke bar) was much worse. The glass was tinted, and there was a Pawn Shop, a Payday Loans, and this next door.
We peeked our heads in, saw a cloud of smoke and a dart board and NO signs of Karaoke, so we booked it back to the car before we could be assaulted by any of the creepy gold chains lurking in the parking lot (luckily Kasey had her pepper spray ready to fire). Our search continued and we ended up at Tequila Mexican Restaurant. See? Next to a Dental Office and well lit. Much better. Much Safer.

The chips were stale, the DJ was like a distorted version of Jack Black's character in Orange County (distorted because he had clothes on, but otherwise the same guy).

But... they kept the Dr. Pepper coming, and therefore we got funnier and funnier as the night went on, and my singing got worse and worse. Take my advice and never attempt "Baby Got Back" on Karaoke Night. Bad news, but still SO MUCH FUN!

Or maybe it was the mint chocolate pirouettes...

WHoa bAbY! Jerushia gone WiLd!

We discovered 3 things on this trip.
1) Kasey snores
2) I talk (yell, actually) in my sleep
3) Jerushia gets migraines from both (sorry about that J!)

It is really a miracle we even got out of bed the next morning. We managed to hunt down some FABULOUS bagels (the food just kept getting better and better), spend WAY too long in the best dollar store on the planet, stock up our bag with (more) candy, and enjoy the Denim Jumper Fest 2008! Oops, I mean Time Out For Women. I'll leave you with one more pic...

Quick Sarah! Take off your shoes!