We ran out of 1099 envelopes so I was instructed to go find some. They are due today and, in order to be appropriately postmarked, I had to have them in the postbox by 2:30. No problem. I had three hours, it was only 12:30. So I grabbed my keys, forgot my coat, and hit the road, Jack.
My first stop was Office Max. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, so I found an employee to help me (who wound up trying to hit on me) but all he could really tell me was that they were sold out. So I went to Best Buy (I know, I know, but I was told they would have some), another Office Max and an Office Depot.
Everyone was sold out of 1099 envelopes. Everyone. There were dozens and dozens of packages of W2 envelopes, though, and they looked disturbingly similar.
But, I reasoned with myself, why would they have a different bar code and item number if they were the same thing? Why would the government streamline if they could make things more complicated?
I decided to risk it. I bought the W2 envelopes.
What do you know - the W2 envelopes are just a tiny bit different than the 1099 envelopes, the windows are slightly further apart. So all that...and I still had to sort of jerry-rig some envelopes in order to get them to the post by 2:30.
I was five minutes late, too...but I think everything will turn out OK in the end.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Joey, Joey, Joey
This morning I got up earlier than I have gotten up in recent years (5:15 a.m.) so that I could go to Baylor and work out with Laura. Every single red light in the city of Dallas seems to have it out for me. I was late.
After my workout (from which I am extremely sore because I'm further out of shape than I remembered being) it was quite a bit earlier than I expected, just after 7:00, and I began feeling sorry for Joey who had planned to ride his bike in to work. It was only 35 degrees outside after all.
"Do you want me to come get you?" I asked Joey as I drove down Washington on my way to pick him up.
"YES!" He said, "It's so cold out there! I wasn't sure how I was going to make it to school."
So I zipped up the road, not hitting any red lights - funny how that works, and called Joey to ask, "Can you grab me an Izze when you come out?" He said sure, no problem, and he'd be out in a few minutes. When Joey got to the car and we zipped off down the street to school...
"Where's my Izze?" I asked, looking in the backseat by Joey's backpack.
He wilted. "It's in the fridge!"
I wilted.
"You can have a Sprite with lime instead!" He suggested, trying to spin the situation.
"I'll try...maybe...." I pouted, secretly intending to do just that.
Poor Joey. But at least my Izze will be cold when I go home tonight! Yummy. And I'll need something yummy, too, because I'm making the sickest thing for dinner tonight: Pineapple Chicken Bake. Grody. But when I read the recipe title to Joey hoping for a "Sick, who invented that recipe" comment I got a "WOW, that sounds awesome, when are you making it!"
So I'm making it tonight. Hopefully Joey likes it and it reheats well, because I can pretty much guarantee you that I won't be eating much of it at all. Fruit and meat do not go together. Ever.
After my workout (from which I am extremely sore because I'm further out of shape than I remembered being) it was quite a bit earlier than I expected, just after 7:00, and I began feeling sorry for Joey who had planned to ride his bike in to work. It was only 35 degrees outside after all.
"Do you want me to come get you?" I asked Joey as I drove down Washington on my way to pick him up.
"YES!" He said, "It's so cold out there! I wasn't sure how I was going to make it to school."
So I zipped up the road, not hitting any red lights - funny how that works, and called Joey to ask, "Can you grab me an Izze when you come out?" He said sure, no problem, and he'd be out in a few minutes. When Joey got to the car and we zipped off down the street to school...
"Where's my Izze?" I asked, looking in the backseat by Joey's backpack.
He wilted. "It's in the fridge!"
I wilted.
"You can have a Sprite with lime instead!" He suggested, trying to spin the situation.
"I'll try...maybe...." I pouted, secretly intending to do just that.
Poor Joey. But at least my Izze will be cold when I go home tonight! Yummy. And I'll need something yummy, too, because I'm making the sickest thing for dinner tonight: Pineapple Chicken Bake. Grody. But when I read the recipe title to Joey hoping for a "Sick, who invented that recipe" comment I got a "WOW, that sounds awesome, when are you making it!"
So I'm making it tonight. Hopefully Joey likes it and it reheats well, because I can pretty much guarantee you that I won't be eating much of it at all. Fruit and meat do not go together. Ever.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Joey's "Green" Bike
Due to our new and improved Green lifestyle, we sold the Honda several months ago and bought a bike rack. With said bike rack we hauled Thunder - my bike, of course - back down from Iowa. (He got very dirty on the 937 mile ride behind our car back to Texas, but I still love him.)
Anyway, Joey got some bucks around Christmas with which to purchase himself a commuter bike so he could ride the 5 miles from our house to DTS. He was exceptionally pleased with himself and spent quite a long time at Performance Bike trying to pick the very best one.
His final choice was green and I think it's a Schwinn, but I'm really not sure. All I knew when he showed it to me at the bike store was that HIS bike came with a bike bell. Mine did not have one of those and I was jealous because what do boys need bells for anyway?. So of course, we bought me a bike bell.
In order to store our bikes we had to buy a bike rack, which really wasn't as cost-prohibitive as I originally thought it would be, nor as ugly. Our bikes now sit proudly by the window in our study and Henry isn't too keen on them taking up the place where his kennel used to sit.
On Sunday afternoon we picked out a perfect route for Joey to ride to school in the morning. Not only is it just a touch over 5 miles, but it's SAFE! I was a little concerned he'd have to ride his bike down the sketch part of Live Oak, but we discovered that Swiss Avenue is much safer and really not out of the way at all.
This is probably really, really boring.
All this to say, Joey rode his bike to school for the first time today. He got there all wet from the mist, out of breath from the headwind, and probably real smelly too. I can see that the Target list for next week will include things like "extra deodorant to keep at school" and "spare t-shirts for my desk drawer" and such things.
But it's pretty awesome that we're have more bikes than cars in our household. :)
Anyway, Joey got some bucks around Christmas with which to purchase himself a commuter bike so he could ride the 5 miles from our house to DTS. He was exceptionally pleased with himself and spent quite a long time at Performance Bike trying to pick the very best one.
His final choice was green and I think it's a Schwinn, but I'm really not sure. All I knew when he showed it to me at the bike store was that HIS bike came with a bike bell. Mine did not have one of those and I was jealous because what do boys need bells for anyway?. So of course, we bought me a bike bell.
In order to store our bikes we had to buy a bike rack, which really wasn't as cost-prohibitive as I originally thought it would be, nor as ugly. Our bikes now sit proudly by the window in our study and Henry isn't too keen on them taking up the place where his kennel used to sit.
On Sunday afternoon we picked out a perfect route for Joey to ride to school in the morning. Not only is it just a touch over 5 miles, but it's SAFE! I was a little concerned he'd have to ride his bike down the sketch part of Live Oak, but we discovered that Swiss Avenue is much safer and really not out of the way at all.
This is probably really, really boring.
All this to say, Joey rode his bike to school for the first time today. He got there all wet from the mist, out of breath from the headwind, and probably real smelly too. I can see that the Target list for next week will include things like "extra deodorant to keep at school" and "spare t-shirts for my desk drawer" and such things.
But it's pretty awesome that we're have more bikes than cars in our household. :)
Monday, January 28, 2008
Red Sour Patch Kids
I have a very cool Sister.
"You have something coming in the mail," she told me last week. I eagerly anticipated the arrival of the mail every day, and it finally came on Saturday.
"You got something from Sister," Joey announced as he came in the door holding the long awaited mail.
"YAY!" I said, pouncing on it.
I opened up the little brown pouch and, to my sheer astonishment, inside was a small baggie filled with red Sour Patch Kids. I very nearly cried, and I barely ever cry.
"Sister...Sister picked out all the red ones," I said, squishing the bag of the beautiful candy. (The red Sour Patch kids are my favorite.) "The red ones are the best...she probably didn't even get to eat any!"
I was trying, and barely succeeding, not to cry.
"You better eat one," Joey advised.
And so I did.
In fact, I ate the entire baggie while Joey and his friends watched The Bourne Identity and cleaned their paintball guns.
"Can I have a red candy?" Joey asked when his friends left.
"Um...I ate them all." I said.
"WHAT?! I never even got one!"
"Sorry, Sister sent them for ME," I replied selfishly.
And they were delish.
"You have something coming in the mail," she told me last week. I eagerly anticipated the arrival of the mail every day, and it finally came on Saturday.
"You got something from Sister," Joey announced as he came in the door holding the long awaited mail.
"YAY!" I said, pouncing on it.
I opened up the little brown pouch and, to my sheer astonishment, inside was a small baggie filled with red Sour Patch Kids. I very nearly cried, and I barely ever cry.
"Sister...Sister picked out all the red ones," I said, squishing the bag of the beautiful candy. (The red Sour Patch kids are my favorite.) "The red ones are the best...she probably didn't even get to eat any!"
I was trying, and barely succeeding, not to cry."You better eat one," Joey advised.
And so I did.
In fact, I ate the entire baggie while Joey and his friends watched The Bourne Identity and cleaned their paintball guns.
"Can I have a red candy?" Joey asked when his friends left.
"Um...I ate them all." I said.
"WHAT?! I never even got one!"
"Sorry, Sister sent them for ME," I replied selfishly.
And they were delish.
The Gross Dinner
I really like to bake and cook. If I had a hobby, it would probably be that. I got the Rachael Ray cookbook for Christmas, so Joey and I have been experimenting with new recipes lately. I tried one just the other day that, had I been of a rational state of mind when planning my menu, I probably would have stayed away from. It was called...
Lamb Meatballs in Tomato Mint Sauce
Just the name is gross. I mean, Joey and I like lamb...but...
I thawed my lamb the night before and, when I began making dinner for the evening the recipe name turned my stomach just a bit. But I pressed on thinking that it truly couldn't be as bad as all that.
As I mixed the slimy meatballs the smell began to overpower me. It smelled...really bad.
"Smells great, Love!" I heard Joey holler positively from the study. I decided not to ruin my chances and tell him how disgusting I thought dinner was going to be. After all, maybe it would improve once it cooked?
I'll spare you the blow-by-blow and just tell you that it went downhill very fast from that point.
The end result wound up looking like murdered lamb (with all the tomatoes globbed in the saround the meatballs) and smelled somewhere between dirty socks and old garbage. It tasted worse. Joey tried to put on a happy face but, after two bites he put his fork down slowly and said, "I'm sorry Jenna...but this is really gross."
I let out a huge sigh of relief. "I KNOW! It smelled horrible when I was making it and it's nauseating me just to look at it!"
"I'm so sorry!" Joey bemoaned, "I know you worked for a really long time on this!"
"I don't even care, just as long as we don't have to finish eating it," I said, carrying my plate over to the sink.
"Take a picture so the blog people can see how gross this is," I said. Joey got his camera and happily obliged. Unfortunately you can't smell it when it's a picture, only see it. But try to imagine dirty socks and old garbage when you look at this mess and you'll be right about there.
Tomatoes, mint and lamb are a VERY BAD COMBINATION. Don't let anyone fool you.
Lamb Meatballs in Tomato Mint Sauce
Just the name is gross. I mean, Joey and I like lamb...but...
I thawed my lamb the night before and, when I began making dinner for the evening the recipe name turned my stomach just a bit. But I pressed on thinking that it truly couldn't be as bad as all that.
As I mixed the slimy meatballs the smell began to overpower me. It smelled...really bad.
"Smells great, Love!" I heard Joey holler positively from the study. I decided not to ruin my chances and tell him how disgusting I thought dinner was going to be. After all, maybe it would improve once it cooked?
I'll spare you the blow-by-blow and just tell you that it went downhill very fast from that point.
The end result wound up looking like murdered lamb (with all the tomatoes globbed in the saround the meatballs) and smelled somewhere between dirty socks and old garbage. It tasted worse. Joey tried to put on a happy face but, after two bites he put his fork down slowly and said, "I'm sorry Jenna...but this is really gross."
I let out a huge sigh of relief. "I KNOW! It smelled horrible when I was making it and it's nauseating me just to look at it!"
"I'm so sorry!" Joey bemoaned, "I know you worked for a really long time on this!"
"I don't even care, just as long as we don't have to finish eating it," I said, carrying my plate over to the sink.
"Take a picture so the blog people can see how gross this is," I said. Joey got his camera and happily obliged. Unfortunately you can't smell it when it's a picture, only see it. But try to imagine dirty socks and old garbage when you look at this mess and you'll be right about there.
Tomatoes, mint and lamb are a VERY BAD COMBINATION. Don't let anyone fool you.
Friends, Free Tickets & Heights
n
Sounds like a recipe for disaster, huh? :)
Laura managed to snag about 10 free tickets to the Dallas Symphony Orchestra since she works for a Non-Profit organization and she was nice enough to invite a bunch of us to go along, my grandparents included.
So Joey and I dressed up as fancy as possible, just for fun, and we headed down to the Meyerson to pretend that we were classy on the cheap. (Which I think we mostly pulled off.) It was a Bernstein celebration so all the pieces played were by Bernstein...VERY nice. Of course they saved West Side Story for the very end.
The Meyerson is a really beautiful symphony hall. The wood is gorgeous, the seating is well spaced, the pipe organ is amazing, and the people who attend are (us notwithstanding) rather well-heeled Dallasites who like to go to see and be seen. We're kind of a waste of eyes in that respect, because even if we did see some rich person who wanted to be seen at the symphony we wouldn't have a clue who it was. It's kind of fun to pretend now and then, though.
At intermission Danny and Joey decided that it was imperative for them to go to the top seating tier "to see how high it was". So Laura and I tagged along primarily to keep them in line and secondarily to see how high it truly was up there.
We were the only people in the elevator on the way up. The elevator operator looked at us kind of funny when the boys responded, "We want the top floor" to her question of "Where to?"
The elevator operator deposited us at the top floor and shook her head at us as we exited, the boys buzzing excitedly with questions like "right or left?" and "do you think it'll be really high?" and "I wonder how much seats cost up here."
I'm afraid of heights. Almost paralyzingly so, it's really irritating. So I try to force myself to do scary things regularly, otherwise I'd be one of those loser scardy-cats who does nothing but stay home where it's "safe" and we all know those kinds of people are boring and lame. Far be it from me to be intentionally boring OR lame. (Although I'm sure both happen quite regularly.)
As soon as we entered the highest seating tier, I got overwhelmingly dizzy. "Um....I'm done," I said and started to turn around. Joey grabbed me from behind, stood me up straight and propelled me forward. "You can do it," he said.
We reached the middle and I sat down immediately.
Fortunately Laura brought her point and shoot so we were able to capture the amazing height of the top seating tier in pixels FOREVER.
Joey climbed behind the rows of red-velvet seats and snapped this very nice picture of Danny and Laura, who I'm just about sure you've never seen a single picture of before. Hehehe. In any case, they're quite photogenic.
Then Laura swapped places with Joey and took one of us. Please ote the slightly terrified look on my face. I tried to smile but it was hard since getting the picture taken required standing up out of the chair I had been sitting in lest I somehow lose my balance and fall to my death 6 stories below me. (Unlikely, yes.)
We stood up there and tried to act all suave and sophisticated. Joey identified a soprano sax practicing and several other instruments before someone looked at the time and noticed that we ought to rejoin our party.
Danny and Joey immediately found some stairs and slid down the velvet-lined railings. Laura and I pretended we did not know them.
Sounds like a recipe for disaster, huh? :)
Laura managed to snag about 10 free tickets to the Dallas Symphony Orchestra since she works for a Non-Profit organization and she was nice enough to invite a bunch of us to go along, my grandparents included.
So Joey and I dressed up as fancy as possible, just for fun, and we headed down to the Meyerson to pretend that we were classy on the cheap. (Which I think we mostly pulled off.) It was a Bernstein celebration so all the pieces played were by Bernstein...VERY nice. Of course they saved West Side Story for the very end.
The Meyerson is a really beautiful symphony hall. The wood is gorgeous, the seating is well spaced, the pipe organ is amazing, and the people who attend are (us notwithstanding) rather well-heeled Dallasites who like to go to see and be seen. We're kind of a waste of eyes in that respect, because even if we did see some rich person who wanted to be seen at the symphony we wouldn't have a clue who it was. It's kind of fun to pretend now and then, though.
At intermission Danny and Joey decided that it was imperative for them to go to the top seating tier "to see how high it was". So Laura and I tagged along primarily to keep them in line and secondarily to see how high it truly was up there.
We were the only people in the elevator on the way up. The elevator operator looked at us kind of funny when the boys responded, "We want the top floor" to her question of "Where to?"
The elevator operator deposited us at the top floor and shook her head at us as we exited, the boys buzzing excitedly with questions like "right or left?" and "do you think it'll be really high?" and "I wonder how much seats cost up here."
I'm afraid of heights. Almost paralyzingly so, it's really irritating. So I try to force myself to do scary things regularly, otherwise I'd be one of those loser scardy-cats who does nothing but stay home where it's "safe" and we all know those kinds of people are boring and lame. Far be it from me to be intentionally boring OR lame. (Although I'm sure both happen quite regularly.)
As soon as we entered the highest seating tier, I got overwhelmingly dizzy. "Um....I'm done," I said and started to turn around. Joey grabbed me from behind, stood me up straight and propelled me forward. "You can do it," he said.
We reached the middle and I sat down immediately.
Fortunately Laura brought her point and shoot so we were able to capture the amazing height of the top seating tier in pixels FOREVER.
Joey climbed behind the rows of red-velvet seats and snapped this very nice picture of Danny and Laura, who I'm just about sure you've never seen a single picture of before. Hehehe. In any case, they're quite photogenic.
Then Laura swapped places with Joey and took one of us. Please ote the slightly terrified look on my face. I tried to smile but it was hard since getting the picture taken required standing up out of the chair I had been sitting in lest I somehow lose my balance and fall to my death 6 stories below me. (Unlikely, yes.)
We stood up there and tried to act all suave and sophisticated. Joey identified a soprano sax practicing and several other instruments before someone looked at the time and noticed that we ought to rejoin our party.
Danny and Joey immediately found some stairs and slid down the velvet-lined railings. Laura and I pretended we did not know them.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow
I made it through the horrible dentist's appointment alive. Barely.
See, the Novocaine didn't deaden all my nerves. They even gave me an extra shot after I told them I could still feel my lip. Granted, things were definitely deadened, but I could pretty much feel them drilling the whole time, which meant I lay there in the dentist's chair shaking like a little leaf in a stiff Fall breeze. Four cavities is a lot to have done at once even when the Novocaine does work its magic.
So with four dentists' tools, two hands and one jaw-propper in my mouth I tried not to move and stared into the glaringly bright dentist's lamp trying to think about nice things like lambs and puppies. The hygienist would pat my arm and say, "We're almost done...no, wait, I'm sorry, there's still one more" and comforting things like that.
An hour later, it was over.
The unfortunate part was that the dentist had been yanking on my cheek so hard to try to get to the cavity on my lower gums that my mouth refused to open more than about a centimeter. So I headed straight to the chiropractor to see if he could adjust my jaw.
"WOW," he said, when he felt the muscle knot in my cheek. "This is really bad."
So he whipped out a little plastic thingy which he put on his index finger and said, "I'm going to have to try to massage the cheek muscle from the inside of your mouth. Do you think you can handle that?"
Did I have much choice?
I gingerly opened my poor mouth as far as I could and tried not to bite my chiropractor as he attempted to get my locked up cheek muscle to release. It hurt like crazy. Three attempts later, I could open my mouth about an inch, which is enough to do just about anything, really. (Except, I'm finding, eat my lunch. Food keeps falling out my mouth and onto my desk, which is embarrassing.)
Oh, did I mention I stopped by my dermatologist to give them some of my blood, too? This morning has been a real pain. All told, I just want to go back to bed.
My face is still numb...why couldn't my NERVES have been numb?!
See, the Novocaine didn't deaden all my nerves. They even gave me an extra shot after I told them I could still feel my lip. Granted, things were definitely deadened, but I could pretty much feel them drilling the whole time, which meant I lay there in the dentist's chair shaking like a little leaf in a stiff Fall breeze. Four cavities is a lot to have done at once even when the Novocaine does work its magic.
So with four dentists' tools, two hands and one jaw-propper in my mouth I tried not to move and stared into the glaringly bright dentist's lamp trying to think about nice things like lambs and puppies. The hygienist would pat my arm and say, "We're almost done...no, wait, I'm sorry, there's still one more" and comforting things like that.
An hour later, it was over.
The unfortunate part was that the dentist had been yanking on my cheek so hard to try to get to the cavity on my lower gums that my mouth refused to open more than about a centimeter. So I headed straight to the chiropractor to see if he could adjust my jaw.
"WOW," he said, when he felt the muscle knot in my cheek. "This is really bad."
So he whipped out a little plastic thingy which he put on his index finger and said, "I'm going to have to try to massage the cheek muscle from the inside of your mouth. Do you think you can handle that?"
Did I have much choice?
I gingerly opened my poor mouth as far as I could and tried not to bite my chiropractor as he attempted to get my locked up cheek muscle to release. It hurt like crazy. Three attempts later, I could open my mouth about an inch, which is enough to do just about anything, really. (Except, I'm finding, eat my lunch. Food keeps falling out my mouth and onto my desk, which is embarrassing.)
Oh, did I mention I stopped by my dermatologist to give them some of my blood, too? This morning has been a real pain. All told, I just want to go back to bed.
My face is still numb...why couldn't my NERVES have been numb?!
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Dentist Schmentist
Tomorrow morning at 8:30 I am going to go get 4 cavities drilled and 1 sealant repaired. If I do not come out alive, you'll all know why. I'm really not looking forward to tomorrow. At all.
Suggest A Hobby!
Last night at 7:30 I realized that I was bored. Joey was studying and my house was already clean. Dinner had been made and picked up. There was very little for me to organize since I did it on Monday. So I sat on the futon for a little while, then I harnessed up Henry and took him to Half Price Books where we tormented the customers for about 20 minutes.
Then we came back home.
I gave Joey a haircut (which, accidentally, I cut way too short...sorry, honey!) and then I resumed my perch on the futon and stared at the wall some more. Then, after 10 minutes of boring myself by doing nothing, I started the dishwasher and made Joey's lunch for today.
This leads me to believe that I need a hobby.
I have tried cross-stitching, knitting, and crocheting and all have had a major degree of either boredom or failure. I've also tried scrap booking but I hate it because it stresses me out because it's impossible to not be "behind". I hate to be behind in anything.
My current hobby seems to be some sort of baking, but I really need to curb that because the more I bake the more I seem to weigh. And if it were warm outside and not disturbingly cold I would be riding Thunder (my bike, of course), going for a run, or taking Henry on a walk.
None of these seem to be working out right now. SO...
I NEED A HOBBY! I'm open to suggestions, too.
Then we came back home.
I gave Joey a haircut (which, accidentally, I cut way too short...sorry, honey!) and then I resumed my perch on the futon and stared at the wall some more. Then, after 10 minutes of boring myself by doing nothing, I started the dishwasher and made Joey's lunch for today.
This leads me to believe that I need a hobby.
I have tried cross-stitching, knitting, and crocheting and all have had a major degree of either boredom or failure. I've also tried scrap booking but I hate it because it stresses me out because it's impossible to not be "behind". I hate to be behind in anything.
My current hobby seems to be some sort of baking, but I really need to curb that because the more I bake the more I seem to weigh. And if it were warm outside and not disturbingly cold I would be riding Thunder (my bike, of course), going for a run, or taking Henry on a walk.
None of these seem to be working out right now. SO...
I NEED A HOBBY! I'm open to suggestions, too.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Happy Thoughts!
I received this most amazing snow globe from my grandparents upon their arrival to the great state of Texas. 
The snow globe is now sitting proudly on my desk where, when I need a smirk, I shake it around real quick-like and get the snow swirling and sparkling. Then I repeat as necessary.
However.
Due to the fact that the Grandparents Laird were here in Dallas this weekend, I thought I'd recount some of the happy thoughts/times we had thereby turning the cold weather (sprinkles) into good, old-fashioned fun (sparkles).
The snow globe is now sitting proudly on my desk where, when I need a smirk, I shake it around real quick-like and get the snow swirling and sparkling. Then I repeat as necessary.However.
Due to the fact that the Grandparents Laird were here in Dallas this weekend, I thought I'd recount some of the happy thoughts/times we had thereby turning the cold weather (sprinkles) into good, old-fashioned fun (sparkles).
- We ate at La Madeline in Plano on Friday night and, I must say, it was delish. We stayed there for about an hour and a half, too, because Gramps and Joey kept talking and talking and talking...finally Grams and I couldn't handle the uncomfy chairs anymore so we made them leave.
- On Saturday morning Henry woke us up at 7:30 because we'd forgotten to put him in his kennel. Once up, we managed to loaf around and still clean the entire house before Gramps and Grams came over at 10:30.
- Gramps faked us out by suggesting we go to Krispy Kreme before running errands, only to reneg on us at the last minute. Joey still talks about his disappointment.
- Grams went grocery shopping with me and subsequently bought all my groceries for me - thanks Grams!. Oh, plus two super pretty dresses at Loft - thanks again, Grams!. (I even tried, too, I'd get my Debit card out long before she had hers out and she STILL beat me to the swiper machine!) But we did buy some Blue Bell, much to Gramp's "chagrin". (He tried to appear sad but we all know he was really glad to have his very own Blue Bell for the RV freezer.)
- We ate at Panera for lunch on Saturday and Gramps' food got forgotten. (Really, if that sort of thing had to happen to someone, it generally seems to happen to Gramps.) So we ate while he watched us. By the time his food came, we were all quite finished. Poor Gramps.
- Danny and Laura got free tickets to the Symphony, so we took the Grandparents Laird! We all dressed up fancy just for fun, loaded into the Jeep (which was very dirty from getting hauled behind the RV for 900 miles) and drove down to the Meyerson. We parked in a garage and, it was decided, we would probably get stuck there for 30 minutes.
- The concert was great, although I think Gramps got bored, and we made it out of the parking garage and home in 15 minutes flat.
- On Sunday morning we visited First Baptist Dallas in honor of Grams. Then we ate lunch at Red Hot & Blue in honor of Joey. Nothing was done in honor of Gramps or I.
- Later that evening we made record time hitting the outlet mall AND Costco in less than 2 hours. We were ridiculously organized. After purchasing enough paper towels to last us at least a year, we headed back to the RV where Grams and I built chicken salad sandwiches for dinner. Then we ate ice cream and played Mexican Train and stayed an hour longer than we had intended. Everyone won a round of Mexican Train except for me. Little surprise.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Joey had to work today but I, lucky me, had the day off due to Martin Luther King day. I had great plans to sleep in and loaf around watching girl movies that Joey would really rather not watch, but he needed me to take him in to work. At 7:30 a.m.
So I got up.
I reorganized the hall closet, baked and frosted a cake from scratch, watched a movie, hung some artwork in the study, and thought I'd make Joey's life easier by adjusting the curtain rod in our bedroom. He was planning to do it when he got home, but I had so much extra time today I wanted to help him out.
So, armed with a star screwdriver (I can never remember if that's Phillips or regular), a stepladder, and gumption, I banged my way into our room, set the stepladder up and started taking things apart.
I got both rods of drapes off, no problem at all. I unscrewed one of the brackets, no problem at all. I picked the perfect position that I planned to reinstall it, no problem at all.
Then I tried to screw it back in.
Nothing happened. I turned and turned and turned, but as soon as I let the slimy little thing out of my grasp, it fell on the floor. I repeated this process several times before I gave up and went to get the hammer.
Surely Pops taught me how to put a screw into the wall... I thought as I rummaged around for the hammer. I went back into the bedroom where, full of fresh resolve, I climbed the stepladder and began attempting to pound the screw into the wall in lieu of screwing it in.
That didn't work either, the screw fell out of my hands and I hammered my finger. I glared at the wall, the screw and the hammer. Thinking it would be best to try one more tactic before giving up entirely, I put the screw into the place where all the drywall had fallen out from my attempts at hammering and I pushed as hard I as I could. Then I tried to screw it in again.
It fell on the ground.
"I give up," I said to no one in particular and put down the stupid screwdriver. I headed out to check on the cake I was baking because, when all else fails, I know I can at least do that.
So I got up.
I reorganized the hall closet, baked and frosted a cake from scratch, watched a movie, hung some artwork in the study, and thought I'd make Joey's life easier by adjusting the curtain rod in our bedroom. He was planning to do it when he got home, but I had so much extra time today I wanted to help him out.
So, armed with a star screwdriver (I can never remember if that's Phillips or regular), a stepladder, and gumption, I banged my way into our room, set the stepladder up and started taking things apart.
I got both rods of drapes off, no problem at all. I unscrewed one of the brackets, no problem at all. I picked the perfect position that I planned to reinstall it, no problem at all.
Then I tried to screw it back in.
Nothing happened. I turned and turned and turned, but as soon as I let the slimy little thing out of my grasp, it fell on the floor. I repeated this process several times before I gave up and went to get the hammer.
Surely Pops taught me how to put a screw into the wall... I thought as I rummaged around for the hammer. I went back into the bedroom where, full of fresh resolve, I climbed the stepladder and began attempting to pound the screw into the wall in lieu of screwing it in.
That didn't work either, the screw fell out of my hands and I hammered my finger. I glared at the wall, the screw and the hammer. Thinking it would be best to try one more tactic before giving up entirely, I put the screw into the place where all the drywall had fallen out from my attempts at hammering and I pushed as hard I as I could. Then I tried to screw it in again.
It fell on the ground.
"I give up," I said to no one in particular and put down the stupid screwdriver. I headed out to check on the cake I was baking because, when all else fails, I know I can at least do that.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Awkward.
Last night Joey and I decided to stop into Loft just in case the dress I've been watching drops in price to $30. (He's a good sport, he likes shopping with me.) It was really cold last night so I was wearing my green coat, cream hat and scarf combination and it was keeping me nicely toasty-warm.
We walked into Loft arm in arm. There were two sales associates, a man and a woman, standing near the door, presumably folding clothes but quite obviously they were just standing there talking. The woman greeted us with a "Hi, welcome to Loft!" like a normal sales associate. The man, however...
"OH MY!" He gasped. "YOU look GREAT."
I glanced around to see who he was talking about but, oddly enough, no one but us was in the store. I squirmed uncomfortably.
"I just love the green and cream combination. Oh you look so warm! That's a fantastic coat," and so on and so forth. I grew even more uncomfortable. We started to move away from the two sales associates as quickly as possible.
"Make yourselves at home!" He told us, cheerily.
"That was the weirdest thing ever," I mumbled to Joey as we walked back to the clearance rack. (Like all good DTS wives I only shop off the clearance rack. An even then, only when it's basically free.)
"I guess he liked your coat," Joey replied.
"That has never before in my life happened to me, and it was super strange," I hissed.
"Does it make you want to buy more stuff?" Joey asked.
No, it does not.
We did not find the dress on sale for $30, they still seem to think they can sell it for $50. (Which is considerably lower than its original price, I only willing to pay $30 for the thing.) We detoured around the outside of the racks in order to avoid the Overly Complimentary Salesman but, as we were leaving he cheerfully called out, "Done already? You must be power shoppers!"
I suppose you could call us that.
We walked into Loft arm in arm. There were two sales associates, a man and a woman, standing near the door, presumably folding clothes but quite obviously they were just standing there talking. The woman greeted us with a "Hi, welcome to Loft!" like a normal sales associate. The man, however...
"OH MY!" He gasped. "YOU look GREAT."
I glanced around to see who he was talking about but, oddly enough, no one but us was in the store. I squirmed uncomfortably.
"I just love the green and cream combination. Oh you look so warm! That's a fantastic coat," and so on and so forth. I grew even more uncomfortable. We started to move away from the two sales associates as quickly as possible.
"Make yourselves at home!" He told us, cheerily.
"That was the weirdest thing ever," I mumbled to Joey as we walked back to the clearance rack. (Like all good DTS wives I only shop off the clearance rack. An even then, only when it's basically free.)
"I guess he liked your coat," Joey replied.
"That has never before in my life happened to me, and it was super strange," I hissed.
"Does it make you want to buy more stuff?" Joey asked.
No, it does not.
We did not find the dress on sale for $30, they still seem to think they can sell it for $50. (Which is considerably lower than its original price, I only willing to pay $30 for the thing.) We detoured around the outside of the racks in order to avoid the Overly Complimentary Salesman but, as we were leaving he cheerfully called out, "Done already? You must be power shoppers!"
I suppose you could call us that.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Joey: Barred from the DTS library
No, kids, I'm not joking.
My bible study had a "meet the husbands" night at DTS, and on the way home Joey asked if we could stop at the library so he could peruse something that was on reserve at the library for class. I bundled up in my kelly green wool pea coat, scarf, gloves and hat (it was 32 degrees here today; bitter cold!) and we were off.
As I was checking my mail at the library, my sheepish husband came over and said, "Um, do you have any money?"
"Why," I stage-whispered. We were in a library after all.
"Because...I have a $2.95 fine and I haven't paid it in months. I'm barred from checking anything out."
I smirked.
"You have married a terrible person," the desk clerk said.
Joey looked glum.
"I have a dollar in cash," I said, digging around in my fancy wallet.
Joey looked more glum. "Can I just stand here and scan this?" He asked the clerk.
"Well, I'm not supposed to let you." Said Clerk-Man.
Joey glumness turned into downright wilting.
"But...I think I'll make an exception. You can sit in that chair over there and read the material, then bring it back."
Joey brightened a little at this. I pulled out the only check in my wallet and began to write a check for a lousy $2.95.
I wrote "terrible person" in the memo.
But the good news, I suppose, is that my husband is now unbarred from the DTS library. His comment was, "I wondered when they were going to bar me, I'd been disregarding the late-fee notices for a really long time."
I should have written "horrible person" in the memo, probably.
My bible study had a "meet the husbands" night at DTS, and on the way home Joey asked if we could stop at the library so he could peruse something that was on reserve at the library for class. I bundled up in my kelly green wool pea coat, scarf, gloves and hat (it was 32 degrees here today; bitter cold!) and we were off.
As I was checking my mail at the library, my sheepish husband came over and said, "Um, do you have any money?"
"Why," I stage-whispered. We were in a library after all.
"Because...I have a $2.95 fine and I haven't paid it in months. I'm barred from checking anything out."
I smirked.
"You have married a terrible person," the desk clerk said.
Joey looked glum.
"I have a dollar in cash," I said, digging around in my fancy wallet.
Joey looked more glum. "Can I just stand here and scan this?" He asked the clerk.
"Well, I'm not supposed to let you." Said Clerk-Man.
Joey glumness turned into downright wilting.
"But...I think I'll make an exception. You can sit in that chair over there and read the material, then bring it back."
Joey brightened a little at this. I pulled out the only check in my wallet and began to write a check for a lousy $2.95.
I wrote "terrible person" in the memo.
But the good news, I suppose, is that my husband is now unbarred from the DTS library. His comment was, "I wondered when they were going to bar me, I'd been disregarding the late-fee notices for a really long time."
I should have written "horrible person" in the memo, probably.
Another one for The Kid
Whenever The Kid gets bored he says "Lady, write me a blog post. Do it now."
And five minutes later, "Lady, why have you not posted this morning. Gosh. I'm bored, write me one now." And so on and so forth. This requires that I basically drop whatever I'm doing and acquise to The Kid's demands because, as we all know, he pretty much needs to get his way immediately Or Else. He's very spoiled. Very.
So this time he told me how I'm supposed to blog about how he's cooler than me, but how Texas is cooler than Ohio. Riveting material to go off, eh?
1. The Kid is cooler than me.
I suppose some people probably think this is true, but just last night as we were driving home Joey said, "You should make your nickname be 'Maximus' and The Kid should be 'Minimus'. You know, becuase you're cooler."
"No way," I replied. "The Kid would be 'Maximus' and I would be 'Minimus'; no question about it."
"Whatever," Joey said.
The Kid seems to think he's cooler because:
--he's taller
--he has had his ear pierced for longer than me
--he was the Hawaiian Surprise
--everyone likes him better than me anyway
It's all probably valid when you think about it. So OK FINE, man, you're cooler than me.
2. Texas is cooler than Ohio.
Obviously this isn't going to be a hard sell. I mean, what does Ohio really have that's cool besides Cedarville and The Kid? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I don't really know what else to put here either because Texas just IS cooler than Ohio.
So, the Kid, I hope you're happy now. I blogged and it's basically all about you. Selfish beast.
And five minutes later, "Lady, why have you not posted this morning. Gosh. I'm bored, write me one now." And so on and so forth. This requires that I basically drop whatever I'm doing and acquise to The Kid's demands because, as we all know, he pretty much needs to get his way immediately Or Else. He's very spoiled. Very.
So this time he told me how I'm supposed to blog about how he's cooler than me, but how Texas is cooler than Ohio. Riveting material to go off, eh?
1. The Kid is cooler than me.
I suppose some people probably think this is true, but just last night as we were driving home Joey said, "You should make your nickname be 'Maximus' and The Kid should be 'Minimus'. You know, becuase you're cooler."
"No way," I replied. "The Kid would be 'Maximus' and I would be 'Minimus'; no question about it."
"Whatever," Joey said.
The Kid seems to think he's cooler because:
--he's taller
--he has had his ear pierced for longer than me
--he was the Hawaiian Surprise
--everyone likes him better than me anyway
It's all probably valid when you think about it. So OK FINE, man, you're cooler than me.
2. Texas is cooler than Ohio.
Obviously this isn't going to be a hard sell. I mean, what does Ohio really have that's cool besides Cedarville and The Kid? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I don't really know what else to put here either because Texas just IS cooler than Ohio.
So, the Kid, I hope you're happy now. I blogged and it's basically all about you. Selfish beast.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Fingernails
So I have this weird pet-peeve/paranoia about fingernails. I hate, hate, hate it when they start getting long enough to see the white part, but I also think my fingers look slightly less like little pink sausages if my fingernails are a big longish.
The problem is that for the last three weeks I've been trying to grow out my nails. But whenever I look closely at them I get the willies and think germs!, unnatural!, ugly! or something else equally negative. But when I just glance down at my hands I think Hmm, slightly more elegant than normal...
I sit here and ponder just how many germs are collecting under my fingernails. How it would really hurt if I broke one off. Wondering why fingernails have a certain "fingernail" smell and wishing mine would stop. Retraining myself from rushing to the bathroom and cutting the beastly things off.
Problem is...I hate cutting my fingernails because it sounds terrible and I always feel like a serial killer. I read a book when I was a young and impressionable pre-teen where the killer type guy put fingernail clippings in an envelope and mailed them to his victims.
As you can see, I have issues. All morning I have been waffling--do I cut them, or do I not cut them?!
I can no longer take it; I am going to cut them. Sorry Joey...
The problem is that for the last three weeks I've been trying to grow out my nails. But whenever I look closely at them I get the willies and think germs!, unnatural!, ugly! or something else equally negative. But when I just glance down at my hands I think Hmm, slightly more elegant than normal...
I sit here and ponder just how many germs are collecting under my fingernails. How it would really hurt if I broke one off. Wondering why fingernails have a certain "fingernail" smell and wishing mine would stop. Retraining myself from rushing to the bathroom and cutting the beastly things off.
Problem is...I hate cutting my fingernails because it sounds terrible and I always feel like a serial killer. I read a book when I was a young and impressionable pre-teen where the killer type guy put fingernail clippings in an envelope and mailed them to his victims.
As you can see, I have issues. All morning I have been waffling--do I cut them, or do I not cut them?!
I can no longer take it; I am going to cut them. Sorry Joey...
Dream and little dream...
So last night Joey and I both had extremely weird dreams that I simply cannot resist blogging about. Since this is my blog and my dream was shorter, we'll start with me.
I dreamt that I was at camp on staff as a counselor again (the very same camp at which I was awesome and hid in the Dumpster during counselor hunt) and Joey was there too. Only he didn't look like Joey, he looked like someone Entirely Different. Anyway, we were all getting ready to do our afternoon activities when a bomb exploded up at the chapel. (We watched MacGyver before we went to bed...) Joey came running down the hill looking really proud of himself and proclaiming, "I killed the camp director!"
Wow.
So anyway, I woke up all traumatized because I liked the camp director.
I told Joey about my dream and he said, "You know, we must have both had strange dreams last night." And he proceeded to tell me his.
My family and we were all in Heaven (I didn't ask him if there was a Rapture or not, Sister...) and we were headed to the Heaven Convention Center. (Apparently there is one of those...) We were going to hear Al Mohler because he was speaking; Dr. Young was the other speaker, I guess. So we walked in as a group and Joey sat down in a place that seemed good to him, but we all walked right past him and sat somewhere else. Poor Joey.
He came over to us and said, "Guys, I had spots for us over there!"
I told him I was mad at him, and thought he had run off and left us.
Once the conference began, Joey thought it was too loud. He leaned over to Stephen and said, "Wow, this is really hurting my ears!"
Stephen pulled a 5 gallon bag of used earplugs out of his pocket and handed 3 of them to Joey, who plugged up his ears and was much happier. (I enjoy the fact that Stephen actually fit a 5 gallon bag of anything in his pocket, much less used earplugs!)
It was about this time that Joey woke up and his dream was over. "But you know," he said, pausing, "I'm not sure we ever saw Jesus during all that time we were in Heaven."
I dreamt that I was at camp on staff as a counselor again (the very same camp at which I was awesome and hid in the Dumpster during counselor hunt) and Joey was there too. Only he didn't look like Joey, he looked like someone Entirely Different. Anyway, we were all getting ready to do our afternoon activities when a bomb exploded up at the chapel. (We watched MacGyver before we went to bed...) Joey came running down the hill looking really proud of himself and proclaiming, "I killed the camp director!"
Wow.
So anyway, I woke up all traumatized because I liked the camp director.
I told Joey about my dream and he said, "You know, we must have both had strange dreams last night." And he proceeded to tell me his.
My family and we were all in Heaven (I didn't ask him if there was a Rapture or not, Sister...) and we were headed to the Heaven Convention Center. (Apparently there is one of those...) We were going to hear Al Mohler because he was speaking; Dr. Young was the other speaker, I guess. So we walked in as a group and Joey sat down in a place that seemed good to him, but we all walked right past him and sat somewhere else. Poor Joey.
He came over to us and said, "Guys, I had spots for us over there!"
I told him I was mad at him, and thought he had run off and left us.
Once the conference began, Joey thought it was too loud. He leaned over to Stephen and said, "Wow, this is really hurting my ears!"
Stephen pulled a 5 gallon bag of used earplugs out of his pocket and handed 3 of them to Joey, who plugged up his ears and was much happier. (I enjoy the fact that Stephen actually fit a 5 gallon bag of anything in his pocket, much less used earplugs!)
It was about this time that Joey woke up and his dream was over. "But you know," he said, pausing, "I'm not sure we ever saw Jesus during all that time we were in Heaven."
Monday, January 14, 2008
"Haunted" Geocaching: More fun than a barrel o' monkeys
Joey and I are fortunate to had friends who are cooler than we are. This is advantageous for us for two reasons:
1. They make us laugh
2. They have good ideas for double dates
Haunted geocaching was one such good idea. Laura Stiller gets major kudos for suggesting we go geocaching in the first place, and the doing all the legwork to get the series details and maps set up. Sadly, as you will discover later, there is nary a picture of her from the entire event because she was the one taking the pictures. (With her flippin' sweet camera too, I might add. Pictures turned out great!)
Anyway, on to geocaching. For those of you who do not know what it is, please refer to the dictionary.com definition:
So the geocaching series that Laura found was "haunted" sites in the East Dallas part of the Metroplex. None of us believe much in ghosts, so we thought it might be funny to read the ghost stories about each location. Joey and I ate our lunch really quickly then headed over to Danny and Laura's to begin our adventure.
Laura handed out GPS units to the boys, we climbed into their trendy Jeep and we were off! Boys & GPS units in the front, girls and "just in case" maps in the back.
We got to the first location in no time at all since it was right close to where Danny and Laura live. Since none of us had done this before, we stood in the parking lot of Snuffers and looked aimlessly around, unsure of what to do.
"If it's actually in the restaurant, I'm not going to be the one going in to find it," Laura said. I seconded that motion.
Joey plugged the coordinates into his GPS unit and led us across the street.
We looked high and low but really weren't sure what we were even looking for in the first place.
"Maybe it's in that Dumpster area?" Laura indicated to a Dumpster enclosure just a few steps away from the utility boxes we'd been looking over trying to find the cache.
"Maybe..." I said, halfheartedly. I really didn't want to go look by the Dumpster. But the boys had gone back across the street and Laura was holding her amazing camera, so I seemed like the best person for the job.
It smelled horrible and I began to have flashbacks to that one time in college when I wrapped myself in trash bags and Kelsie and I hid in the Dumpster during Counselor Hunt at camp. (No one but some mice and a snake found us. We were awesome; the first girls to ever do that.)
After a meager poking around, I determined that there was no cache to be found by the Dumpster. "It's not here," I yelled over to Laura. Then...
"OH WAIT," I yelped, "I found it!" It was stuck inbetween the metal post and wooden structure of the Dumpster enclosure.
Joey and Danny came running over and we opened up the cache. There was a log book inside and, suddenly, we realized that we hadn't come up with a team name yet. (Apparently geocaching type people have those...everyone else in the log did!)
We decided that we'd be the "Woesters" if we found the cache, and the "Stillmans" if the Stillers found the cache. (For any of you who care, those two names are a combination of Woestman and Stiller. We thought we were pretty clever.)
Off to the next cache....
This one took us to White Rock Lake. It was blustery and getting gray outside, but it was still nice to be by the water. We got our coordinates and Joey and Danny fairly burst out of the car.
We tromped around in the long grass near where the GPS unit said we should find the cache.
I love this picture of Joey. (He hates it.) Anyway, he found the cache, so the score was...
Woesters: 2
Stillmans: 0
I wrote in the log book and we were on our way again!
Joey and Danny navigated us to a shopping center where, due to his competitive nature, Danny nearly fell out of the car trying to get to the cache first. We thought it was hidden somewhere in this large clump of bushes, so we searched and searched.
I got in the bushes.
Danny succeeded! He found the cache; this one containing a little bitsy wiffle ball and a log, which he signed "Stillman". The score:
Woesters: 2
Stillmans: 1
We were still winning...
I'm not really sure what this picture is about, I just like it. So here's a picture of Joey putting his right arm up and looking very pleased with himself for doing it.
We searched and searched for a cache at this restaurant that was abandoned. Finally we discovered that our coordinates were a little off. Once we readjusted, we found the cache in a few minutes, even thought it was hidden in a terribly difficult spot. Four sets of eyes are better than one!
Oh - I found the cache. So that put us at...
Woesters: 3
Stillmans: 1
They really needed to catch up!
After the abandoned restaurant we headed to Suicide High, a school in Mesquite with no windows or mirrors and is infamous for its students committing suicide. I got tired of looking for the cache and leaned up against the chain link fence that had a good view of the depressing school. I was standing there thinking about how depressing it must be to go to a school like that when...
"BOO!" Joey yelled and grabbed my waist.
I screamed.
"Gotcha!" He said, proudly. He then went on to find the cache, which put the score at...
Woesters: 4
Stillmans: 1
Sorry guys.
Our coordinates took us off to a nice wooded area. The cache was an ammo box that was, hopefully, not under water according to the instructions. It was impossible to find!
After about 15 minutes of looking, I started throwing stuff in the pond instead of searching.
Danny got tired of looking for the cache at some point and started taking silly pictures. Joey and I could not stop laughing last night when we saw this one. We can't really figure out what he's jumping off of, but it's pretty impressive whatever it is/was.
Stumped. And skunked. We never found this one...we chalked it up to the fact that it must have washed away.
Again, really not sure what Danny is doing here. There are almost no words...
From this cache, which we never found, we headed to a cemetery. It was getting dark. Very dark. We were supposed to find a series of red reflectors and follow them to the cache. When we reached our coordinates...there was no reflectors.
There was, however, a $20. We figured the ghosts gave it to us and decided to use it to go out to dinner afterwards.
We tromped around the cemetery in the growing darkness, unable to find the headstone we were looking for. The shape and color were in the picture Laura had printed off the internet, so we at least had something to go off of.
"Hey! Over here!" one of the guys yelled. We all walked over to the place where a headstone had been knocked off its stand and was laying facedown on the ground.
"Do you think this is it? It matches the description we're looking for..." Joey said. He tried to lift it; it was too heavy.
Danny tried. It was too heavy.
Both guys tried. Still to heavy.
So both guys and me tried. We heaved and shoved and pushed and...successfully flipped over the headstone! Only we had forgotten a flashlight and, by this time, it was entirely black outside.
"Does anyone have a cell phone?" Danny asked. Joey pulled out his and I dusted off the dirt from the face of the stone. We all held our breath, expecting to see the name we were searching for.
"Thomas?" We read, "Aw, that's disappointing." We weren't looking for the Thomas headstone.
"Now what do we do with it?" Joey asked. We were still holding the headstone up since it was, most definitely, too heavy for us to put back on the stand.
"Put it back?" I asked.
Danny examined the markings on the stone. "I think this guy was a military Vet. We better try to lean it against this tree stump." We tried; too heavy. So we wound up leaving it face-up and hopefully the caretaker will come and fix it.
So, tired and hungry, we piled back into the Stillers' Jeep and headed back to Dallas where we had burgers, thanks to the ghost money. Well, everyone except me. All that riding around in the car made me carsick.
1. They make us laugh
2. They have good ideas for double dates
Haunted geocaching was one such good idea. Laura Stiller gets major kudos for suggesting we go geocaching in the first place, and the doing all the legwork to get the series details and maps set up. Sadly, as you will discover later, there is nary a picture of her from the entire event because she was the one taking the pictures. (With her flippin' sweet camera too, I might add. Pictures turned out great!)
Anyway, on to geocaching. For those of you who do not know what it is, please refer to the dictionary.com definition:
| Main Entry: | geocaching |
| Part of Speech: | n |
| Definition: | a type of scavenger hunt for waterproof containers bearing treasure using the containers' exact geographic coordinates and Global Positioning System devices |
So the geocaching series that Laura found was "haunted" sites in the East Dallas part of the Metroplex. None of us believe much in ghosts, so we thought it might be funny to read the ghost stories about each location. Joey and I ate our lunch really quickly then headed over to Danny and Laura's to begin our adventure.
Laura handed out GPS units to the boys, we climbed into their trendy Jeep and we were off! Boys & GPS units in the front, girls and "just in case" maps in the back.
We got to the first location in no time at all since it was right close to where Danny and Laura live. Since none of us had done this before, we stood in the parking lot of Snuffers and looked aimlessly around, unsure of what to do.
"If it's actually in the restaurant, I'm not going to be the one going in to find it," Laura said. I seconded that motion.
Joey plugged the coordinates into his GPS unit and led us across the street.
We looked high and low but really weren't sure what we were even looking for in the first place."Maybe it's in that Dumpster area?" Laura indicated to a Dumpster enclosure just a few steps away from the utility boxes we'd been looking over trying to find the cache.
"Maybe..." I said, halfheartedly. I really didn't want to go look by the Dumpster. But the boys had gone back across the street and Laura was holding her amazing camera, so I seemed like the best person for the job.
It smelled horrible and I began to have flashbacks to that one time in college when I wrapped myself in trash bags and Kelsie and I hid in the Dumpster during Counselor Hunt at camp. (No one but some mice and a snake found us. We were awesome; the first girls to ever do that.)
After a meager poking around, I determined that there was no cache to be found by the Dumpster. "It's not here," I yelled over to Laura. Then...
"OH WAIT," I yelped, "I found it!" It was stuck inbetween the metal post and wooden structure of the Dumpster enclosure.
Joey and Danny came running over and we opened up the cache. There was a log book inside and, suddenly, we realized that we hadn't come up with a team name yet. (Apparently geocaching type people have those...everyone else in the log did!)We decided that we'd be the "Woesters" if we found the cache, and the "Stillmans" if the Stillers found the cache. (For any of you who care, those two names are a combination of Woestman and Stiller. We thought we were pretty clever.)
Off to the next cache....
This one took us to White Rock Lake. It was blustery and getting gray outside, but it was still nice to be by the water. We got our coordinates and Joey and Danny fairly burst out of the car.
We tromped around in the long grass near where the GPS unit said we should find the cache.
I love this picture of Joey. (He hates it.) Anyway, he found the cache, so the score was...Woesters: 2
Stillmans: 0
I wrote in the log book and we were on our way again!
Joey and Danny navigated us to a shopping center where, due to his competitive nature, Danny nearly fell out of the car trying to get to the cache first. We thought it was hidden somewhere in this large clump of bushes, so we searched and searched.
I got in the bushes.
Danny succeeded! He found the cache; this one containing a little bitsy wiffle ball and a log, which he signed "Stillman". The score:Woesters: 2
Stillmans: 1
We were still winning...
I'm not really sure what this picture is about, I just like it. So here's a picture of Joey putting his right arm up and looking very pleased with himself for doing it.
We searched and searched for a cache at this restaurant that was abandoned. Finally we discovered that our coordinates were a little off. Once we readjusted, we found the cache in a few minutes, even thought it was hidden in a terribly difficult spot. Four sets of eyes are better than one!Oh - I found the cache. So that put us at...
Woesters: 3
Stillmans: 1
They really needed to catch up!
After the abandoned restaurant we headed to Suicide High, a school in Mesquite with no windows or mirrors and is infamous for its students committing suicide. I got tired of looking for the cache and leaned up against the chain link fence that had a good view of the depressing school. I was standing there thinking about how depressing it must be to go to a school like that when...
"BOO!" Joey yelled and grabbed my waist.
I screamed.
"Gotcha!" He said, proudly. He then went on to find the cache, which put the score at...
Woesters: 4
Stillmans: 1
Sorry guys.
Our coordinates took us off to a nice wooded area. The cache was an ammo box that was, hopefully, not under water according to the instructions. It was impossible to find!
After about 15 minutes of looking, I started throwing stuff in the pond instead of searching.
Danny got tired of looking for the cache at some point and started taking silly pictures. Joey and I could not stop laughing last night when we saw this one. We can't really figure out what he's jumping off of, but it's pretty impressive whatever it is/was.
Stumped. And skunked. We never found this one...we chalked it up to the fact that it must have washed away.
Again, really not sure what Danny is doing here. There are almost no words...From this cache, which we never found, we headed to a cemetery. It was getting dark. Very dark. We were supposed to find a series of red reflectors and follow them to the cache. When we reached our coordinates...there was no reflectors.
There was, however, a $20. We figured the ghosts gave it to us and decided to use it to go out to dinner afterwards.
We tromped around the cemetery in the growing darkness, unable to find the headstone we were looking for. The shape and color were in the picture Laura had printed off the internet, so we at least had something to go off of.
"Hey! Over here!" one of the guys yelled. We all walked over to the place where a headstone had been knocked off its stand and was laying facedown on the ground.
"Do you think this is it? It matches the description we're looking for..." Joey said. He tried to lift it; it was too heavy.
Danny tried. It was too heavy.
Both guys tried. Still to heavy.
So both guys and me tried. We heaved and shoved and pushed and...successfully flipped over the headstone! Only we had forgotten a flashlight and, by this time, it was entirely black outside.
"Does anyone have a cell phone?" Danny asked. Joey pulled out his and I dusted off the dirt from the face of the stone. We all held our breath, expecting to see the name we were searching for.
"Thomas?" We read, "Aw, that's disappointing." We weren't looking for the Thomas headstone.
"Now what do we do with it?" Joey asked. We were still holding the headstone up since it was, most definitely, too heavy for us to put back on the stand.
"Put it back?" I asked.
Danny examined the markings on the stone. "I think this guy was a military Vet. We better try to lean it against this tree stump." We tried; too heavy. So we wound up leaving it face-up and hopefully the caretaker will come and fix it.
So, tired and hungry, we piled back into the Stillers' Jeep and headed back to Dallas where we had burgers, thanks to the ghost money. Well, everyone except me. All that riding around in the car made me carsick.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Henry gets his teeth brushed
Joey took Henny to the vet to get his Rabies shot booster yesterday. The vet glanced at Henry's teeth while he was there and noticed that he had a bit of tartar buildup on his back teeth, and could we brush them every day?
Why sure. No problem. Henry had gotten a toothbrush and special doggy toothpaste for Christmas, after all.
So last night while Joey was at his nerd meeting, I wrestled Henry down in the bathroom and I brushed those teeth. I used his special green toothbrush with his minty fresh toothpaste and went straight for the gold. Circular motions. Every last one of them.
Henry was not impressed.
He wriggled for awhile but finally gave up and just lay there shaking like a little puppy dog leaf; poor baby. When I decided that I had done as much as I could for the first teeth brushing session, I gave him his treat and let him scamper away. Five minutes later, he was back.
I was standing in the bathroom, brushing MY teeth, when Henry began making strange, foreign sounds. Kind of like...
He threw up all over the linoleum.
"Henry!" I wailed. I can't clean up vomit, that's totally Joey's job, and he was at nerd meeting and not due to be back for two more hours. Plus we are on our last half roll of toilet paper (rationing is in effect) and have only one paper towel as I used what was left to clean out the refrigerator last night.
Suddenly, he began making the strange sounds again. Is he going to throw up more?! I wondered, frozen with indecision about what, exactly, to do with my barfing puppy. Joey always holds him over the sink if he catches him throwing up, but I just couldn't do it.
So there I stood thinking, If I pick him up and he starts barfing, he'll get it on me or the rug. If I leave him where he is, he'll just get it on the linoluem again and, as I thought, Henry threw up again. Even more than the first time.
"HENRY!" I wailed again, more pathetically than the first time. He looked up at me with a "Mommy, are you proud of me?" face, and pranced out of the bathroom.
I stood there, looking at the mess on the floor and really not sure what I was going to clean it up with. I finally decided on trash bags, of which I have an abundance, and started scooping it up. It was the grossest thing; it took two trash bags, toilet paper, and the very last paper towel I scrounged up from the kitchen. (So now we're completely out of those.)
After determining that the majority of the mess was cleaned up, I sprayed the floor down with my all-natural Sol-U-Guard to kill the germs. Henry decided that the cleaner smelled good and came in to try to lick it up, which I wouldn't let him do. (But he could consume as much of it as he wanted without any harmful effects, and that's my shameless plug for Melaleuca.)
All told, Joey just can't leave again for an evening because I can't handle cleaning up any more of Henry's vomit. It's disgusting. And I'm really not sure if I'll be brushing his teeth tonight or if it'll be Joey...
Why sure. No problem. Henry had gotten a toothbrush and special doggy toothpaste for Christmas, after all.
So last night while Joey was at his nerd meeting, I wrestled Henry down in the bathroom and I brushed those teeth. I used his special green toothbrush with his minty fresh toothpaste and went straight for the gold. Circular motions. Every last one of them.
Henry was not impressed.
He wriggled for awhile but finally gave up and just lay there shaking like a little puppy dog leaf; poor baby. When I decided that I had done as much as I could for the first teeth brushing session, I gave him his treat and let him scamper away. Five minutes later, he was back.
I was standing in the bathroom, brushing MY teeth, when Henry began making strange, foreign sounds. Kind of like...
He threw up all over the linoleum.
"Henry!" I wailed. I can't clean up vomit, that's totally Joey's job, and he was at nerd meeting and not due to be back for two more hours. Plus we are on our last half roll of toilet paper (rationing is in effect) and have only one paper towel as I used what was left to clean out the refrigerator last night.
Suddenly, he began making the strange sounds again. Is he going to throw up more?! I wondered, frozen with indecision about what, exactly, to do with my barfing puppy. Joey always holds him over the sink if he catches him throwing up, but I just couldn't do it.
So there I stood thinking, If I pick him up and he starts barfing, he'll get it on me or the rug. If I leave him where he is, he'll just get it on the linoluem again and, as I thought, Henry threw up again. Even more than the first time.
"HENRY!" I wailed again, more pathetically than the first time. He looked up at me with a "Mommy, are you proud of me?" face, and pranced out of the bathroom.
I stood there, looking at the mess on the floor and really not sure what I was going to clean it up with. I finally decided on trash bags, of which I have an abundance, and started scooping it up. It was the grossest thing; it took two trash bags, toilet paper, and the very last paper towel I scrounged up from the kitchen. (So now we're completely out of those.)
After determining that the majority of the mess was cleaned up, I sprayed the floor down with my all-natural Sol-U-Guard to kill the germs. Henry decided that the cleaner smelled good and came in to try to lick it up, which I wouldn't let him do. (But he could consume as much of it as he wanted without any harmful effects, and that's my shameless plug for Melaleuca.)
All told, Joey just can't leave again for an evening because I can't handle cleaning up any more of Henry's vomit. It's disgusting. And I'm really not sure if I'll be brushing his teeth tonight or if it'll be Joey...
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Everyone please welcome my new vaccum named Jim, the Hoover
(Yes, Jim, I named my vacuum after you. I hope you are honored. It's the best vacuum I've ever had!)
I had to put in a lot of extra hours last week and Joey dangled the prospect of getting a new little bitty point and shoot camera with my overtime in front of me all week. Well, by the end of Saturday when we sat down to order the camera I decided I'd better be practical. So we bought a vacuum cleaner instead.
Our old one was a Great Grandma Special (along with about half of our house for the first two years of our marriage) and the last couple months it has been a challenge. It smells really...strange and hasn't been sucking properly. And so, I began to budget for a new vacuum cleaner.
We did all the responsible things Woestmans do before making a large purchase - we checked Consumer Reports, thought about it a lot, and I pondered about 55 different kinds in various stores when Joey wasn't looking.
We finally settled on a (bagless!!) Hoover Wind Tunnel which, conveniently, was spot with our price range AND rated #3 by Consumer Reports. It was also their "Best Buy", so we felt very responsible. We also ordered it from Amazon to avoid the whole paying tax thing, and we got free shipping! All in all, an excellent purchase.
I called Joey repeatedly yesterday afternoon to ask such important questions as: "Is it heavy" and "What color is it?" and "Are you looking at it right now? Is it amazing?" and "Please don't forget it?" and "Can I vacuum when I get home?"
He was about to stop answering my calls.
The moment finally arrived when we were home and the vacuum was just coming out of its box.
"Um, I need help," I said. The box was almost up to my shoulders and I was having leverage trouble getting the vacuum out of the box.
Joey immediately came to my rescue. He had the vacuum out of the box quicker than I could say "Hooray!", and it was down on the ground for me to admire and Henry to sniff at cautiously. Joey got out the camera and began snapping pictures.
Check out its fancy filtration action. (We think it's fancy because our previous vacuum had a really dusty bag that, when knocked just right, poofed dust clouds into the air. Plus it smelled like dead dust mite whenever we vacuumed.)
My personal favorite feature, aside from the cool light it has on the front, are those red and green lights that indicate whether the floor is clean or not. Red means "keep vacuuming" and green means "it's clean!" Most of our house, aside from right by the front door, has a green light. I couldn't get the red light to turn green no matter how much I vacuumed by the front door, so I gave up.
This is the whole thing. Is it not a thing of beauty?! Its paint job is even sort of shimmery, just like a new car.
I love my new vacuum named Jim! (And, if you look very closely, you can see Henry's head in the bottom left corner of the picture.)
I had to put in a lot of extra hours last week and Joey dangled the prospect of getting a new little bitty point and shoot camera with my overtime in front of me all week. Well, by the end of Saturday when we sat down to order the camera I decided I'd better be practical. So we bought a vacuum cleaner instead.
Our old one was a Great Grandma Special (along with about half of our house for the first two years of our marriage) and the last couple months it has been a challenge. It smells really...strange and hasn't been sucking properly. And so, I began to budget for a new vacuum cleaner.
We did all the responsible things Woestmans do before making a large purchase - we checked Consumer Reports, thought about it a lot, and I pondered about 55 different kinds in various stores when Joey wasn't looking.
We finally settled on a (bagless!!) Hoover Wind Tunnel which, conveniently, was spot with our price range AND rated #3 by Consumer Reports. It was also their "Best Buy", so we felt very responsible. We also ordered it from Amazon to avoid the whole paying tax thing, and we got free shipping! All in all, an excellent purchase.
I called Joey repeatedly yesterday afternoon to ask such important questions as: "Is it heavy" and "What color is it?" and "Are you looking at it right now? Is it amazing?" and "Please don't forget it?" and "Can I vacuum when I get home?"
He was about to stop answering my calls.
The moment finally arrived when we were home and the vacuum was just coming out of its box.
"Um, I need help," I said. The box was almost up to my shoulders and I was having leverage trouble getting the vacuum out of the box.
Joey immediately came to my rescue. He had the vacuum out of the box quicker than I could say "Hooray!", and it was down on the ground for me to admire and Henry to sniff at cautiously. Joey got out the camera and began snapping pictures.
Check out its fancy filtration action. (We think it's fancy because our previous vacuum had a really dusty bag that, when knocked just right, poofed dust clouds into the air. Plus it smelled like dead dust mite whenever we vacuumed.)
My personal favorite feature, aside from the cool light it has on the front, are those red and green lights that indicate whether the floor is clean or not. Red means "keep vacuuming" and green means "it's clean!" Most of our house, aside from right by the front door, has a green light. I couldn't get the red light to turn green no matter how much I vacuumed by the front door, so I gave up.
This is the whole thing. Is it not a thing of beauty?! Its paint job is even sort of shimmery, just like a new car.
I love my new vacuum named Jim! (And, if you look very closely, you can see Henry's head in the bottom left corner of the picture.)
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Update
Here's a general update of recent events:
1. Two days ago walked through the sensors at Kohls with only the clothes on my back and I STILL SET OFF THE ALARMS . An employee came out after us to make sure everything was OK...
2. My cartilage piercing is infected and it hurts, so I can't talk on the phone with my left ear or sleep on my left side. But I still think it looks cool.
3. I have to get up early on Saturday and this is really irritating to me because I wanted to sleep in.
1. Two days ago walked through the sensors at Kohls with only the clothes on my back and I STILL SET OFF THE ALARMS . An employee came out after us to make sure everything was OK...
2. My cartilage piercing is infected and it hurts, so I can't talk on the phone with my left ear or sleep on my left side. But I still think it looks cool.
3. I have to get up early on Saturday and this is really irritating to me because I wanted to sleep in.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Joey Takes Off Henry's Coat
Because we were going to Iowa for Christmas, and it's bitterly cold up there, we let Henry's winter coat grow long and furry so he'd stay plenty warm. I thought he looked adorable, somewhere between a sheep, a teddy bear, and an ewok. Joey kept saying all week since we got back to Texas, "He needs a haircut." I kept putting him off.
I had to go into the office on Saturday, and when Joey came to pick me up at 2:00 I was really hoping he'd bring Henry with him. I like it when Henry sits on my lap and watches the cars zoom past him on the freeway; it's pretty cute. I approached the car and didn't see my little puppy's head poking out of the window watching for me like usual, so I assumed he was at home looking out the windows there, until...
I caught a glimpse of him, he was laying down on the passenger's seat. I brightened, smiled at Joey and prepared to open the car door and get in. When I noticed it.
"JOEY!" I wailed, loudly, in the parking lot, still outside the car. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HENRY?!"
Poor, poor Henry. There he sat, looking up at me with his cute fluffy face....and a completely shorn body. Well, except for his hind legs, those and his face were still as fluffy as he'd been earlier that morning. He looked positively ridiculous and it appeared that he knew it. He was acting shy and traumatized.
"He's naked!" I said, getting in the car and scooping up my baby. "You can see his spots!" (Henry has gray spots on his skin, which you normally can't see. They're his special polka-dots.) "His spots are private, poor little boy, and now everyone can see them!"
"I cut his hair." Joey said with a grin.
"Yes, you certainly did." I pouted.
"Basically what happened is that I couldn't remember if we used the 1/4 inch guard or the 1/2 inch guard, so I picked the 1/4. I think it was the wrong one," he admitted as we sped down Central Expressway. Henry wasn't even looking out the windows.
"Poor little guy, he knows he looks like an idiot. His head...it's so...huge." Henry looked up at me with his brown, forlorn eyes.
"It'll grow back," Joey said cheerily, not in the least concerned about Henry's spot exposure or otherwise traumatizing haircut.
"I suppose," I conceded.
The first thing I did when I got home was try to trim his legs and face; the detail work on the haircuts is always my job. Joey's job is (was?) to use the buzzers to trim his body. I may have to rethink that going forward. I cut and cut and cut for the longest time, but I just couldn't seem to get his face to match the rest of his body. His legs look OK (a little gangly maybe, but at least they are even with the rest of him) but his face is still pretty much out of proportion. The result was this:
To anyone who thought Henry was overweight at Christmas...I rest my case.
I had to go into the office on Saturday, and when Joey came to pick me up at 2:00 I was really hoping he'd bring Henry with him. I like it when Henry sits on my lap and watches the cars zoom past him on the freeway; it's pretty cute. I approached the car and didn't see my little puppy's head poking out of the window watching for me like usual, so I assumed he was at home looking out the windows there, until...
I caught a glimpse of him, he was laying down on the passenger's seat. I brightened, smiled at Joey and prepared to open the car door and get in. When I noticed it.
"JOEY!" I wailed, loudly, in the parking lot, still outside the car. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HENRY?!"
Poor, poor Henry. There he sat, looking up at me with his cute fluffy face....and a completely shorn body. Well, except for his hind legs, those and his face were still as fluffy as he'd been earlier that morning. He looked positively ridiculous and it appeared that he knew it. He was acting shy and traumatized.
"He's naked!" I said, getting in the car and scooping up my baby. "You can see his spots!" (Henry has gray spots on his skin, which you normally can't see. They're his special polka-dots.) "His spots are private, poor little boy, and now everyone can see them!"
"I cut his hair." Joey said with a grin.
"Yes, you certainly did." I pouted.
"Basically what happened is that I couldn't remember if we used the 1/4 inch guard or the 1/2 inch guard, so I picked the 1/4. I think it was the wrong one," he admitted as we sped down Central Expressway. Henry wasn't even looking out the windows.
"Poor little guy, he knows he looks like an idiot. His head...it's so...huge." Henry looked up at me with his brown, forlorn eyes.
"It'll grow back," Joey said cheerily, not in the least concerned about Henry's spot exposure or otherwise traumatizing haircut.
"I suppose," I conceded.
The first thing I did when I got home was try to trim his legs and face; the detail work on the haircuts is always my job. Joey's job is (was?) to use the buzzers to trim his body. I may have to rethink that going forward. I cut and cut and cut for the longest time, but I just couldn't seem to get his face to match the rest of his body. His legs look OK (a little gangly maybe, but at least they are even with the rest of him) but his face is still pretty much out of proportion. The result was this:
To anyone who thought Henry was overweight at Christmas...I rest my case.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
I Must Be Stressed
When I get stressed out a strange thing happens to me. My body's chemistry goes all out of whack and I set off those security alarms at places like Target and the grocery store every single time I go through them . Regardless of a handbag, keys, or purchases from the store.
It's so annoying.
I was slightly concerned that I was about to start setting off alarms again when we were up in Iowa. The Kid and I went to Target once or twice and, as we walked in the store the alarm immediately began wailing.
I wilted.
"The Kid, I think I'm setting off alarms again," I pouted. "I must be stressed."
"Lady, it's probably true," he replied.
We drove back to Texas a few days later and I sort of forgot about my stressed-out status (mainly because I was spending all my time at work and not having much time to think about anything else), at least until last night. Joey and I ran into Target to make some returns and, as we went into the store...
BEEEEEP BEEP BEEP
I wilted. Joey laughed.
We made our returns and left the store - I set the alarms off again. Carrying absolutely nothing.
We were headed to the cheap theatre to go on a date, but Joey's had this nagging cough the last week and it was really starting to sound painful. So I insisted, on the way home, that we stop back at Target and pick up some cough medicine for him. This started Joey in on how he wasn't really sick and no, he didn't need cough medicine because why take cough medicine when it tastes so bad that he starts coughing again anyway.
I made him stop at Target. We walked in and...
BEEEEEP BEEP BEEP
"You must be stressed out or something," Joey said.
"Yeah, it's you and trying to get you take your cough medicine," I replied smugly.
It took nearly 10 minutes to get him to select a cough medicine, and then I had to listen to him carry on about it the entire rest of the way home. I then had to find him to get him to actually take the medicine (he was hiding on the floor in the dark in the kitchen), but only after I got him a very large glass of water that he insisted he needed to have before he'd even think about taking the medicine.
I'm not sure which is worse: setting off alarms because I'm stressed or trying to find my hiding husband who doesn't want to take his medicine.
It's so annoying.
I was slightly concerned that I was about to start setting off alarms again when we were up in Iowa. The Kid and I went to Target once or twice and, as we walked in the store the alarm immediately began wailing.
I wilted.
"The Kid, I think I'm setting off alarms again," I pouted. "I must be stressed."
"Lady, it's probably true," he replied.
We drove back to Texas a few days later and I sort of forgot about my stressed-out status (mainly because I was spending all my time at work and not having much time to think about anything else), at least until last night. Joey and I ran into Target to make some returns and, as we went into the store...
BEEEEEP BEEP BEEP
I wilted. Joey laughed.
We made our returns and left the store - I set the alarms off again. Carrying absolutely nothing.
We were headed to the cheap theatre to go on a date, but Joey's had this nagging cough the last week and it was really starting to sound painful. So I insisted, on the way home, that we stop back at Target and pick up some cough medicine for him. This started Joey in on how he wasn't really sick and no, he didn't need cough medicine because why take cough medicine when it tastes so bad that he starts coughing again anyway.
I made him stop at Target. We walked in and...
BEEEEEP BEEP BEEP
"You must be stressed out or something," Joey said.
"Yeah, it's you and trying to get you take your cough medicine," I replied smugly.
It took nearly 10 minutes to get him to select a cough medicine, and then I had to listen to him carry on about it the entire rest of the way home. I then had to find him to get him to actually take the medicine (he was hiding on the floor in the dark in the kitchen), but only after I got him a very large glass of water that he insisted he needed to have before he'd even think about taking the medicine.
I'm not sure which is worse: setting off alarms because I'm stressed or trying to find my hiding husband who doesn't want to take his medicine.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
10% Off
I got a gift card for Williams Sonoma for Christmas (thanks Grandpa and Grandma Laird!) and yesterday Joey and I went to the mall with the express purpose of making very good use of said gift card. I knew I wanted to purchase salt and pepper grinders, but beyond that I wasn't sure what, precisely, I wanted. I love baking and cooking, so it's always fun to get new gadgets or cookbooks.
After perusing for about 20 minutes, I settled on a silicon basting brush and an onion/potato/dicer dicer in addition to my grinders. All told, my merchandise added up to just a few dollars over my gift card amount. I knew that once our Texas-sized sales was added, it would be quite a bit over.
I pushed my items toward the cashier, a friendly guy named David, and said "Is there any chance you guys are running a 10% off sale today? I mean, I'd take advantage of it if you were."
He grinned at us. "Just for you, huh?"
"Yep, just for me," I said at the exact same time that Joey replied, "No, you could give it to other people too."
(They say opposites attract...)
David finished ringing everything up, swiped my gift card and said, "You'll have $5 remaining on the card."
We smiled at him, said thank you, and marched out of the store arm-in-arm, swinging our shopping bags. A few steps later I asked, "Wait, did he really give us 10% off? I should have paid another $10, but we wound up having $5 left on the card..."
Joey dug out the receipt and handed it to me. Sure enough, each of the two grinders was marked down $5.50 for a grand total of $11 off the purchase price! We were quite surprised.
"Just goes to show, you should always ask if they'll give you money off!" I said, proudly, and immediately picked up the phone to call my grandma to tell her my good money-saving story.
After perusing for about 20 minutes, I settled on a silicon basting brush and an onion/potato/dicer dicer in addition to my grinders. All told, my merchandise added up to just a few dollars over my gift card amount. I knew that once our Texas-sized sales was added, it would be quite a bit over.
I pushed my items toward the cashier, a friendly guy named David, and said "Is there any chance you guys are running a 10% off sale today? I mean, I'd take advantage of it if you were."
He grinned at us. "Just for you, huh?"
"Yep, just for me," I said at the exact same time that Joey replied, "No, you could give it to other people too."
(They say opposites attract...)
David finished ringing everything up, swiped my gift card and said, "You'll have $5 remaining on the card."
We smiled at him, said thank you, and marched out of the store arm-in-arm, swinging our shopping bags. A few steps later I asked, "Wait, did he really give us 10% off? I should have paid another $10, but we wound up having $5 left on the card..."
Joey dug out the receipt and handed it to me. Sure enough, each of the two grinders was marked down $5.50 for a grand total of $11 off the purchase price! We were quite surprised.
"Just goes to show, you should always ask if they'll give you money off!" I said, proudly, and immediately picked up the phone to call my grandma to tell her my good money-saving story.
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