The Aliens Are Coming!!

My husband and I were very fortunate in that when we purchased our home, it came with an attached (but not internally accessible) in-law suite. The original plan was to open the entire house, suite included, to make a bigger home to house the many children we hope to be blessed with (this was before discovering the joys of attached parenting when the thought was that each child would be in a crib/bed of their own from day one forward). Well, two weeks after closing on the house, my father-in-law had several strokes. So now, instead of lots of DIY home improvements, we have an intact in-law suite occupied by one (somewhat crazy) 61 year old. I think/know that my husband is quite relieved to have dodged the DIY bullet.

Father-in-law has always, always been something of an odd duck. And now, sans strokes, the oddness has amplified. How much of that is due to the strokes vs now having an excuse to be odd, I'm not sure. Pre-stroke, after introducing someone to his dad, hubby would always lower his voice and say, "yeah, we have to be careful with him here...at home, we put tape on all the mirrors so he wouldn't fall through to another dimension." And he would only be half joking.

I found out over the weekend that Father-in-law had a series of weird dreams he had to tell hubby about. He remembers the tree falling on the house, and remembers us coming outside to tell him about it. But then he tries to tell hubby that later that night, a spaceship hit our house And he KNEW it was a spaceship because a few hours after the initial impact, he heard all the aliens walking around on the roof and was scared to come outside. Hubby then tries to explain to him that the aliens were, in fact, hubby on the roof trying to asses the damage. Nope, Father-in-law is staunch in his defense of the alien story and of narrowly escaping the dreaded probe.

The lesson learned from this - the next time Father-in-law starts getting under my skin more than usual, I'll have to break out the flashlights and ladder and re-enact the invasion of the aliens!

Bridezilla Strikes Again

Here they are, folks...The shoes that I was 'almost' destined to wear for my little sister's upcoming nuptials. Have you all finished gaging/laughing yet? Now, lest you have the wrong impression....This is a Southern Baptist wedding, complete with the 300 or so family members in attendance. THANK GOD I got her to change her mind.

Normally, when she isn't being periodically, my little sister is a pretty down-to-earth kind of girl. Granted, she is still stuck in the small-town mindframe (why would I want to travel, especially where they don't speak English? Was the response to an offer of plane tickets to LONDON for her gift from big sis and brother-in-law) and upon completion of her teaching degree from Clemson University, she will be returning to the same small town to live out her days in country (lest I say it, redneck) glory. So I really don't get the stripper shoe thing. Perhaps it really is just a case of beauty being in the eye of the beholder. But I'll be damned if I'm going to shell out $70.00 on a pair of clear shoes that will give me blisters for a DRY wedding on NEW YEARS EVE surrounded by way too many family members. I'm counting the shoe battle as a victory. And a hard earned one at that (go figure that dyed to match shoes did not register in her head as fashionable).

Now if only I could convince her that candy apple red does NOT suit everyone, especially the Matron of Honor...

Poor readers, I'm sure more horror stories are to follow as the day approaches.

The Price of Gas

Let me begin this by thanking the uber wonderful Chirodad. Thanks for the prompt to write and idea!

The bee babe awakened at an insanely early hour this morning (5:00 am) and did NOT want to go back to sleep. So, being the rather wonderful mommy that I am, we got up and did a few things around the house before I had to get ready and leave for work. On a whim, I turned on the local news. And of course, the very first thing I hear is...'How Much is Gas Where You are?' Ok, that got me thinking...yes, $2.50 a gallon is rather pricey, and I almost got rilled up enough to really start moaning and complaining. Then, I comment to hubby about the insane price of gasoline and promptly get told, "Yeah, well, I'm tired of hearing that. Seriously, getting from point a to point b is one of life's necessities and you know, a few cents more a gallon just isn't that much." And he is right (hubby, you may want to print this out for future reference).

The increase in price is about the same as the cost of one hamburger (or one fancy Sonic drink...a la diet cherry limeade). And what do we need more...the over processed, almost nutritionally void fast food burger or the gasoline? Now, for those of you who have the PRIVILEGE of living in an actual city where public transportation is an option, my gasoline vs food argument might seem a bit crass. Unfortunately, here in the southland, public transport is poorly lacking. So, I'll forego the burger and take the gas. Dino's be damned. Stop bitching about the price of gas and report some REAL news!!

Edited to add: did you know that spellcheck on this thing doesn't recognize 'Bitching'?? Who would have thought?

Call me the Wicked Witch of the East...

Because a TREE fell on my house this morning at 12:55 am.


I now have 2 holes in my roof, and just missed having this thing on my HEAD as it hit the wall between my bedroom and the library. Poor Bee babe woke up screaming, and I can't say I blame her. It is NOT a fun thing to be awakened by a loud freaking boom. Of course, once she got herself calmed down and truly awake, we walked into the library to assess the damage and she promptly pointed up to the protruding limbs and announced, "TREE!". Notice the cat in the picture...I can only imagine what he's thinking...

A Story with Poo

Being the oldest child in my family, I've become pretty used to being the butt of jokes. Ok, well, perhaps age doesn't have as much to do with it as my very literal translation of things and bad eyesight. For example, to this day, I cannot drive around my sister, brother, mother, or combination of the three without one of them exclaiming, "Remember the squirrel?".

I was 16 years old and had recently been upgraded from car-less, angst filled teenager to taxi driver for the family. My responsibility after school was to pick up my sister and brother from their school one town over, drop them off at the house, then go back to my high school for debate practice, academic team practice, band practice, etc. So, one one of these trips when both the brother and the sister were late getting out of school, I was going a little faster than normal home. Ok, ok, so I was speeding. Anyway, I don't know where you are from, but it is pretty much the norm now to have the reflectors embedded into the road on the middle line of the road. Well, we didn't have those in SC for a LONG time. In fact, they were quite the novelty when I was 16, and very new to my hometown (one stop-light, 500 pop. town). So here I am in my little 88 Honda zipping down the highway trying to get the kids home as fast as I can when all of a sudden a squirrel darts out in front of us. My 5 year old brother just happened to be in the front seat (it was his turn and no airbags meant he couldn't be decapitated if we were to wreck) and saw the suicidal rodent. He immediately tears up when we hear the inevitable, "thump thump". Then, we hear, "thump thump" again. And again. All I can think is 'Damn, it's stuck. How the hell am I gonna get out of the car without seeing squirrel goo?' and my brother has now tried to get his head out of the side car window while still being belted into the seat to see if he can SEE the roadkill. Amidst all of the commotion, my sister from the back of the car announces in a most annoyed and disdainful voice, 'You idiot. You are driving over the reflectors. The squirrel survived.'

Then there was the time that we were at a middle school football game and a bird crapped in my hair. I, of course, find it hilariously gross and announce it to everyone, whilst my sister grabs my arm and informs me if I had just kept my mouth shut, no one would ever have known. Yeah yeah, whatever. Damn pigeons...Using my head as target practice. I suppose I should be grateful it was a pigeon and not a seagull...

Today, I get a call from the sage sister announcing that she has also had a close encounter with a bird. HA HA HA!! Is it wrong that I feel vindicated? I think not. Way to go, bomber birdy, I owe you one.

Wish I were here now...

Because it is darn hot in SC right now.

Because nothing is as special as your first trip overseas.

Because nothing is as wonderful as a honeymoon.

Because we were on a relationship high then, not too easily irritated by one another's idiosyncrasies. Romance wasn't a dreaded word or dream of things past. We could walk all day and explore all the fascinating nooks and crannies powered only by a liter bottle of water and our excitement at being in a new place as an official, state-sanctioned married couple.

Because even though the airlines decided Newark, NJ needed our backpacks more than we did and left us without clothes in November in the UK, we still had fun.

Because I never would have met the odd New Zealand girl that thought we celebrate Guy Fawkes day in the states, nor would I have met the smelly, knows-no-boundaries Scottish guy on the eternally long and hot bus ride from Edinburgh to London.

But, I'm here in SC now...a married mom. And really, this is where I need to be. And I'm happy about that.

What makes me happy

It really is the little things that make you happy. Like getting an insurance check for all the stolen stuff that is more than twice what you anticipated (rendering it possible to finally be able to purchase a proper dining table and chairs...yes, hippies DO like to have tables and chairs, people!). Or shopping about in Target over the weekend to find perfectly acceptable knock-off Robeez shoes for under $15.00! And while shopping in Target with a less-than-happy babe, meet up with a family of 4 boys who take the fussy babe under their wing and play peek-a-boo with her (even the eldest, pre-teen!!) to make her happy! And to find out those great boys are not only super sweet, but are also homeschooled (something in our future)! Oh, did I mention that I'm in COLUMBIA, SC and actually met up with a random homeschooled family that didn't try to push a religion on me?! I was extatic! Back to the happy list...to be able to purchase not one, but 3 new steel doors for the recent burgled home for under the price of one? AND, finally...to have a hubby that LIKES the idea of having a bright, happy RED door as our front door (see, mom, he DOES have penache!). All in all, a much better, if wetter, weekend was had than week.