Joey's Transformation

Joey and I are involved in a People Search activity with the junior high youth group at church. Our objective is to disguise ourselves in some way (but not in such a way that we'd stick out), and wander around the mall tonight.

The kids will have to find us.

There are eight of us who are hiders, so this should be pretty fun. Joey and I are pretty average looking, though, and our costume resources are fairly limited since we moved to Dallas. We've been having a bit of trouble coming up with ideas.

On Wednesday when we were driving home from church, Joey asked me, "Could I dress up in a suit? Would that be good enough?"

"Hmm," I replied, "You might be on to something there."

"What if I dyed my hair?" I whipped my head around and looked at him.

"Dye your hair?!" I asked.

"Yeah!"

"Well...we could go really dark brown...and if you didn't wear your glasses I'm not sure that even I would recognize you!" I told him. He angled the car towards Target.

After much deliberation in the hair dye aisle (an aisle that Joey used to be afraid of back before we were dating), we bought the cheapest box of dark brown dye we could fine. It cost us a whopping $2.99.

Unfortunately, it's permanent.

Our consolation is that Joey's almost ready for a haircut. Maybe it'll fade a lot in the next 2 weeks and then it won't look so funny when it's growing out?

At any rate, we saved $6. (It might not have been worth it, but we feel better about it this way. So there.)

Last night, we started the hair dying process. I gave Joey highlights as couple times back when we lived in Iowa, but he's never experienced the, um, joy of a full hair dye.

Here's a picture of my light-brown haired cutie before I started. He looks very excited and anticipatory of all the enrichment that dying his hair is sure to provide him.
And here he is once I applied all the hair dye.

His hair resembles that of a college roommate of mine. (This is not a compliment. Her hair stuck out like this sometimes, only she used Elmer's Glitter Glue and would go a week or two between hair washings. I actually washed her sheets once while she was at class because they smelled like something died.)

And the final product, I'm quite pleased to say, looks very nice. (Nothing like my college roommate at all!)

You can't really tell just how dark his hair is from this picture, but it's definitely darker than mine.

I'll post picture of us in our costumes later tonight before we leave.

I'm wearing all of Joey's clothes and trying to look like a boy. I don't think the full effect is there because I have girly eyebrows and Joey's jeans are 6 inches too long for me.

Count 'em, six inches.

I Have Problems Parking

I'm wearing my bronze shoes again, just for kicks.

 

This morning, however, I was running only slightly behind schedule(3 minutes).  I like to be where I'm supposed to be by 7:45 a.m., especially with traffic.  It's much easier the earlier you go.

 

Perhaps some of you may remember the difficulties I have with the parking garage down here.

 

I don't know if it's the bronze shoes/heavy metal poisoning or if it's just me, but I whipped into a skinny little parking spot (making me thankful for my shiny little Corolla) and turned the car off.

 

I evaluated whether or not I could get out, there was a large post right in front of the driver's door.  There was also about a foot of space.  I figured I could probably open the door enough to squeeze though.

 

Successfully, I extricated myself from the vehicle.

 

Unsuccessfully, I tried to shut the car door.  (Joey, stop reading this right now.)

 

Aparrently I'd wedged it against the concrete support a little harder than I thought. 

 

I stood there, tried to shut the door again and decided I had three options:

1.)  Get back in the car, inch it forward and hope the door unstuck itself from the support

2.)  Leave the door open all day

3.)  Keep trying to pull it off the support

 

In the interest of time, I opted for Option 3.

 

After several good tugs, I felt the door start to give way.  I quickly closed it, without checking for damage, and went inside.

 

I think these shoes are bad luck.

 

 

 

Heavy Metal Poisoning

Because I do what I do during the day, my wardrobe requires a lot of high heels.

 

Last night I got a steal of a deal; a pair of $60 comfortable stilettos for only $10!!  And they're bronze.  Trés, tr és, chic.

 

They were pretty much the kind of shoes I swore I'd never wear before I moved to Texas.  Kind of 80's...very trendy...not so much "me".  But the price was right, and now I really like them. 

 

The only problem is that I keep slipping on the marble floors.  I've just about turned my ankle three times today, usually when I'm carrying large objects or awkward stacks of paper.

 

The ungraceful slip and subsequent "whoops!" kind of take the chic factor away.

 

I am concerned that I'm getting some kind of heavy metal poisoning from wearing bronze shoes on my feet.  I've been acting lethargic and clumsy all day long.

 

I'll just blame it on my shoes to be safe.

The Test To See If You Are Allowed To Like Alex

Answer these questions honestly. If you don’t, I’ll come haunt your dreams and throw all your socks in the freezer. As The Keeper Of Alex, I have the right to do this. So there.

1. I often find myself staring at Alex from across the room.
a. Eww, no way!
b. Every single time I can…
c. On the sly, yes. (But don’t tell him.)
d. Maybe. Maybe not.

2. I have met and am familiar with Jenna Woestman.
a. Who’s she?
b. Yes, and she scares me a lot.
c. I don’t like any other girls who are associated with Alex
d. I might have heard the name once or twice.

3. I stare deeply into Alex’s eyes when he is talking to me.
a. Define “stare deeply”…
b. Gross. I hope not.
c. Sometimes, but that’s only because he has a crusty in his eye.
d. Maybe. Maybe not.

4. I am:
a. A guy
b. A girl between the ages of 10-17
c. A girl between the ages of 17-25
d. Your mom’s age (not saying 25 is old…)

5. If cute boys were like animals, Alex would be a(n)…
a. Rhinoceros
b. Triceratops
c. Iguana
d. Lemur

6. I have a new boyfriend every:
a. Day
b. Week
c. Month
d. Year

7. My dad says Alex is…
a. A very fine young man
b. Shady. Very shady.
c. Not someone he is familiar with
d. Too old for me

8. Jenna thinks that I…
a. Wear too much makeup.
b. Am cute and funny.
c. Don’t exist.
d. Need to leave Alex alone.

Scoring…
1. a) 1 pt; b) 4 pts; c) 3 pts; d) 2 pts
2. a) 3 pts; b) 1 pt; c) 4 pts; d) 2 pts
3. a) 4 pts; b) 2 pts; c) 1 pt; d) 3 pts
4. a) 666 pts; b) 3 pts; c) 1 pt; d) 2 pts
5. a) 1 pt; b) 4 pts; c) 2 pts; d) 3 pts
6. a) 4 pts; b) 3 pts; c) 3 pts; d) 1 pt
7. a) 2 pts; b) 3 pts; c) 1 pt; d) 4 pts
8. a.) 3 pts; b)1 pt ; c) 2 pts; d) 4 pts

If you scored 7-9 points, you have a chance, but it’s not a good one

If you scored 10-17 points, you might as well take a hike

If you scored 18-28 points, I have three words for you: “No way, sister.”

If you scored over 666 points, you’re a guy and you shouldn’t even be taking this quiz. Seriously, that’s gross.

The Drug Pusher

I'll put up some pictures from our weekend later, not tonight; Joey's barely letting me have Lappy long enough to blog because of all his homework.

SUCH a good conference, though! Friday night was great, it started about 7:00. There were 3,800 people at the Gaylord Texan, a really gorgeous retreat center in Grapevine. (Most of the pictures we took are from inside the enormous atrium.)

There were 6 screens hanging from the ceiling that project an image of the speaker, so it was easy to see wherever you sat, which was nice. (I always have trouble seeing over the lady with big hair the inevitably sits in front of me.)

The chairs were, at best, uncomfortable. At worst, they were making our bums fall asleep. So,we decided to sit on the floor when we came back on Saturday. We picked a nice spot along the wall and spread out our stuff.

A couple about my parents' age came in 10 minutes late, made us scoot over and took some of our real estate. This did not make me too upset because I don't mind sitting close to Joey.

The lady was kind of strange. She had a teal capri pant sweat suit with gold studs creating designs all over the knees. (Obviously not something she'd want to garden in.) She also had a very large, metallic gold purse.

Thirty minutes into the session, she began digging around in the large gold purse. Because I have a nosy, inquisitive nature, my attention was drawn to the contents of her bag.

I noticed a large box of Marlboro, which I will not comment on at this time, and a large, plump item that looked a lot like a pen. A very fat pen, but a pen nonetheless. (It even had that clippy thing so you could put it in your shirt pocked like my Pops does.)

It was Mother-of-Pearl and gold, so pretty swanky. (When I'm nosy, I'm really nosy.)

She took the cap off and I noticed that the pen was starting to look less and less like a pen. The nub of the pen looked rather....needleish. She held the "needle" part up in the air and flicked the side of the pen a few times.

Hmmmmmm....

She pushed the clicker part on the back of the pen (which I was rapidly discovering was NOT a pen) and pushed out some air bubbles.

The contents of the "pen" were purple.

PURPLE.

Who has purple drugs? (But seriously, who has a Mother-of-Pearl and gold "pen" syringe, either?)

My eyes got real big as she turned away from me, lifted up the bottom of her shirt, and stabbed herself in the side with the syringe.

In the middle of the FamilyLife Weekend To Remember session. While sitting on the floor.

Somehow, Joey did not notice any of this. I was relating the story to him while we were walking around the atrium later, and he just missed the entire episode.

Our hypotheses:
1. She has chronic pain (although why she'd sit on the floor I have no idea) and required intravenous pain medication
2. She's diabetic and doesn't want people to notice her syringe
3. She's a druggie

I vote for hypothesis 2.

Why I Shouldn't Watch Action Movies

Joey and I were gone all weekend at one of those FamilyLife Weekend To Remember marriage enrichment conferences. We had a really great time (thanks Mom and Dad!) but were entirely zapped of all ability to think by the time we got home on Sunday night.

We determined the best course of action, after our extremely communicative weekend, was to sit and watch a movie. (Maybe not what FamilyLife would get too excited about, but since we don't normally veg in front of the TV, we decided to do it anyway.)

Back at the hotel, we had caught about 30 minutes of The Peacemaker, an old George Clooney and Nicole Kidman action movie. It seemed interesting, so on the way back we stopped at a Blockbuster and picked up a copy.

Henry was insanely excited to see us when we got home. He ran around the house for about 5 minutes and licked everything in sight. He's got issues.

About 9:00 we settled in to watch the movie. Joey had the lappy on a TV tray at the end of the bed, so all three of us were watching the movie in style. (Henry kept laying in front of the screen, so he eventually got demoted to the floor.)

There's this one scene about an hour into the film where the good guys get roadblocked by the bad guys. The driver of the car (George Clooney's friend) gets out to go talk with them, and they shoot him.

I am very sensitive. Didn't used to be, but definitely am now. I totally screamed, dove for cover, and put my hands up to my face all at the same time.

In the process, I hauled off and punched myself in the nose.

"OW!" I wailed.

"Whadjado?" Joey mumbled, half curious, half watching the movie.

"Nothing..." I said stoically as I rocked back and forth wondering if I'd broken my nose.

I determined that I hadn't and went back to watching the car chase unfold in the movie.

Then I noticed something unusual. My face was all wet. I must have caused my nose to run when I punched myself. I wiped it with the back of my hand (not advisable in polite company) just to be sure.

It was dark in the room, but I could tell that my hand was covered in blood. Unable to express myself the way a normal human being would, I began The Laird Distress Call.

"Hemma" "aaaugh" "hah...hah...hah" and other such nonsense noises, repeated in rapid succession, comprise The Laird Distress Call. We generally do this when such tragedies occur as Pops' sunglasses falling down the waterfall in the Boundary Waters (props to Andrew on that one), a vehicle nearly backing into our car and we can see it and the driver can't, or a large object about to fall and break.

Rarely does anyone actually understand what we're trying to communicate. Such was the case last night.

"What's wrong, Jenna?" Joey asked, suddenly QUITE unnerved.

"Hemma....aaaaaaugh......jaaaaah," I intoned.

He squinted to look me over in the dark. Nothing appeared to be too out of the ordinary until I finally got out the word "nose" and jumped off the bed.

Joey followed me into the bathroom as though his tail were on fire. When we got to the bathroom, he saw what all the commotion had been about. The right side of my face was smeared with blood. I had definitely given myself a bloody nose.

"Paper towels," I articulated, and Joey took off running. He was back in a flash with 5 paper towels. (About 4 too many, but you can't blame the guy for being thorough.)

I washed my face, attempted to stop the bleeding, and cleaned up the dirty dishes. (Probably shouldn't have cleaned up the dishes at that particular moment, but I'm a little neurotic about that.)

Five minutes later, all was well. I was no longer bleeding profusely and we were settled back down and started the movie again.

I was very careful of my nose during all the rest of the jump scenes.

Serious Bird-Feederage

The neighbors are kind of eco and animal friendly. While this is not entirely bad, I am slightly concerned about the THREE bird feeders we now have on our stairways. (This does not count the bird feeders that are located on their personal balcony.)

The bird feeders began appearing this weekend.

First it was just the pathetic "tree" with no sign of leaves or buds that appeared in the corner by their door. I thought this was sadly amusing and decided to watch it carefully to see if it ever budded.

My hopes aren't real high.

Then, the next day, St. Birdfeeder appeared next to the dead tree.

"Hey, Joey, there's an old-timey guy statue outside, and he's holding birdseed. That's kind of cute." I said.

"Oh, that's St. Somebodyorother," Joey replied. "Patron saint of animals." (Joey now reminds me that it's St. Francis of Assisi but, then, I was never Catholic so I know nothing about these things. Including how to properly spell their names.)

Now you have seen Pathetic Tree and St. Birdfeeder.

This was all well and good until another bird feeder arrived the next day. (They were seriously multiplying! I am rather concerned.)

This one's right next to their door.
"We're going to get mobbed by crows," I muttered as I took Henry outside the day after it appeared. It was then that I noticed the THIRD bird feeder hanging from the railing.

"HOLY BIRD FEEDERS!" I thought. I was growing concerned that I needed an umbrella in case all the birds decided to relieve themselves on me. (That happened when I went to Iowa State, the crows would poo as you walked on the paths under the trees. Sounded like really disgusting rain and it always made me really nervous.)

Thus far, the bird feeder count outside our door is holding steady at 3. We are going away this weekend and if there are any more bird feeders when I come back, I'm probably going to buy a scarecrow.

Long Day

As you can see, it's been a long day. We're ready for the weekend!!

(Well Henry looks sort of crazed, as usual, but Joey definitely looks knackered.)

Lucky, Lucky Charms

I am a Lucky Charms fan.

When The Kid came last week, he "requested" a box of Lucky Charms for his consumption. I bought the big box because it was cheaper so, as The Kid only ate three bowls, we definitely had extra Lucky Charms after he left. (Mom and Dad did not eat any Lucky Charms as far as I know.)

Joey and I like Lucky Charms too. Actually, back when we were first dating (actually, we may not have technically been dating at that point, the whole beginning part of our relationship is rather ambiguous) and Joey was in Minnesota on his internship, I bought a box of Lucky Charms and picked out every single marshmallow for him.

(I didn't snitch any. It was so hard.)

I packed up the container of marshies and mailed it to him while he was a spending a week as a camp counselor.

Isn't that SO romantic? Awwww.....

But I digress. Here we had this huge, half-eaten box of of Lucky Charms on our counter. I was making dinner tonight and I got bored waiting for it to finish cooking.

"Joey, I'm gonna pick all the marshies out of this box of Lucky Charms, OK?"

"Ooh, OK!"

In five minutes, I had a sorry little pile of marshies (I'd already picked a whole bunch out of the box) that I distributed between two bowls.

"Want some of the cereal in with your marshies?" I asked.

He did, so I put a bit of milk in each bowl and we sat on the couch and ate our sophisticated hors d'oeuvres. They were super tasty.

So this morning I very nearly sideswiped a Jaguar on the freeway.

 

To my defense, said Jaguar did not signal in preparation to change lanes.  I, on the other hand, did.

I was running 7 minutes late because Henry would NOT go to the bathroom.  So I finally gave up and told him he'd have to hold it all day since he was stalling.  (I think he didn't want me to leave.)  I shut him in the kitchen so at least he could play, and ran to my car.  (As fast as my high heels would carry me, that is.)

 

Anyway, the freeway was packed.  It wasn't moving very quickly, either, so I wanted to change lanes to a quicker one.

 

Not so much, aparrently, because that sneaky lady in the Jag completely prohibited me from doing so.

 

Had we actually collided, I don't know whose fault it would have been.  (I don't want to ever find out, either.)  Hitting someone in a Jag is not exactly on my list of priorities.

 

Not to mention someone driving a classic Jag, which this lady was.

 

Anyway, I made it without incident.  Let's hope I make it home the same way, too.

Frantic and Having Problems

I just spilled a salt packet all over the place. 

 

(I wouldn't be surprised if I spilled my soda, too, the way this morning has been going!)

 

Most definitely it's one of those days where you think you have (had) everything figured out but then you find out that, oh! just kidding!, you don't.  SO......

 

I've been scrambling since 8:00 to sort myself out.  (Mostly sort out other people's mistakes, but who's counting?)

 

Have you seen Over the Hedge?  I don't really recommend it, I thought it was super lame, but there's a part where this squirrel drinks caffeine and then runs around like crazy.  (It's the only part that's any good in the entire movie.  Trust me.)

 

I feel like that squirrel.  (Only I haven't had any caffeine.)

 

So no amusing blog post today.  Just this super lame one about how I'm frantic.  Actually if I weren't blogging I could probably be getting something accomplished.

 

Hmm, that sounds like a good idea.

Ziggy Prepares To Take It To The Moon

First of all, Sister says I'm annoying.  While this is actually true, I'm still really mad at her. RAR SISTER!

 

(I'm actually not mad at her.)

 

On to the real post.

 

My brother Andrew is pretty much a rocket scientist.  He designs rockets out of objects that aren't meant to be rockets.  (His most recent being a Pepsi bottle.)  He, and Pops, have started a branch of VASA that we like to call RASA.  (The Robins Aeronautic Space Administration, for those of you who can't figure it out.)

 

He was trying to decide what he needed to make into a rocket next. (My suggestion was a Cheetos bag and he said that wouldn't work.  I think he lacks "can-do" attitude.) 

 

Ziggy the Piggy's picture, however, sparked ideas.

 

"Ooh, let's launch Ziggy!"  Andrew suggested.

 

"That's a pretty good idea," I replied.

 

"I'll design a payload for him..." and he was off.

 

Hopefully it's something that won't melt the little chap, but if it does I think it'll be OK.  It's not everyone who has a pig on their keychain who is an astronaut.

 

We're going to attempt said launching when we're back home in May.  Ziggy's getting pretty excited, he told me so just a few moments ago. 

 

Take it to the mooooooooooooon, Ziggy!

 

Current Status: Rockin' It Out

"Joey, can I borrow your shuffle while I'm cooking?" I asked about 20 minutes ago.

"Sure," he started digging it out of his desk.

"Can you get it to the new John Mayer CD for me? I can't figure it out." (Granted, I've never tried either, but I like to have him save the day for me as often as possible.)

Quick as a wink Joey had it all set up for me. "It's currently on the last song on the other CD. But I really like that one so I thought I'd leave it there for you."

(It was "Comfortable" and I must admit, I like that song too.)

I gave him a kiss and left him to study his Greek in peace. I went to the kitchen and cranked up my tunes.

Within five minutes, I was most definitely rockin' it out. I'm really glad the neighbors can't see in the windows because they'd have thought I was some kind of iPod fool. (I can't dance around as cool as they do in the commercials.)

Every so often I break out in song before realizing I should probably shut up; Joey's listening to brain-enhancing classical music in the other room. (As opposed to this brain-destroying rock 'n roll I got going on in my headphones.)

Now, if you'll excuse me I need to go start the fixins for my Texas chili and cornbread we're having for dinner tomorrow night. (And a really awesome song is coming up and I need to belt it out soulfully which I definitely cannot do while sitting and blogging.)

I am a pretty major John Mayer fan. Thanks for the CD, The Kid. You are my hero right now.

Ziggy the Piggy

When purchasing George the Second, I saw this little pig at the checkout stand.

"OH JOEY! Look at this pig." I stuffed the pig in Joey's face.

"That's a pretty cool pig," Joey said, examining him.

"Can I have him?" I asked, pushing the little silver button on his back. He oinked and the blue LED light inside his snout came on.

"WOAH! COOL!" I freaked out. I continued making him oink and shining his light at Joey's face and on George the Second's box.

Joey, feeling rather benevolent said, "How much is he?"

I looked around for the price tag and couldn't find one. "I don't know," I said.

I handed him to the sales lady and asked her to ring him up for me to see how much he cost.

She looked at me with a bored look, zapped his tag and said, "$2.50"

Aside: Not entirely sure if she was bored with her job, us, or just positively disdainful that I was freaking out so much over an oinking LED pig key chain. It's really a toss up.

"OK, you can get him," Joey said.

"Yessssss!" I crowed, and oinked the pig. "I'm carrying my pig out to the car." I said, grabbing both my new pig and the bag containing George.

As we walked to the car I oinked the pig again and turned to Joey. "What do you think his name is?"

Joey guessed something, can't remember what, that rhymed with "pig".

"Close, but not quite." I said. "His name is Ziggy the Piggy."

Joey laughed. "Nice," He said.

And we walked hand-in-hand to the car. I oinked Ziggy most of the way home. (Which, fortunately, wasn't very far.)

"I'm probably going to steal that guy and take him to work," Joey said as we walked up the steps to our apartment.

"NO!" I gasped.

"The guys would think he was real cool," Joey said.

(I agreed; he IS really cool.) "I suppose you can take him for a day or two," I said, nicely.

I doubt he'll really take him, though. He'd just bought a key chain LED flashlight on Tuesday so I think Ziggy the Piggy is safe with me.

Honestly, though, it's a good thing Joey and I are kindred spirits...otherwise I think I might border on annoying somethings. :)

George Has Reincarnated

While not myself a Hindu, George Foreman might possibly be.

(The one on my gadget shelf in my kitchen, that is. The real one named all his kids "George", so I don't know what that makes him except rather self-absorbed.)

But I digress.

Several weeks ago George died in the middle of dinner. This was a sad state of affairs as my dinner menu for the next week relied heavily on George. I was forced to change my Plan and, as those of you who know me well know, that didn't go over very well.

Joey and I have suffered without George. We have noticed his absence most notably when wanting to make burgers and it is raining outside, or something along those lines.

After pricing George, we determined that he was Not In The Budget right now. And probably wasn't going to be for awhile, which caused us great grief and pain. How we missed our good friend George.

But then, surprise!, we came into some surprise money this weekend. (Thanks Grandpa and Grandma...) We determined that the best course of action was to go to the store and buy ourselves a new George.

My last George was a hand-me-down (thanks, Michele!) that I got for Christmas about five years ago. He served me/us well. However, we determined that we needed one with removable plates, our first George was pretty hard to clean.

After waiting for 30 minutes in Kohl's for the manager to confirm that no, they did not have the George we wanted, we went to Bed Bath and Beyond.

We found the perfect George, took him home, gave him a bath, and put him to work for dinner.

Isn't he shiny, silvery and high-tech looking? We're quite proud of our new and improved George, hopefully George the Second serves us as long as George the First.
(Henry likes George, especially now that we've used him to make burgers. I haven't caught Henry licking it yet, but if I do he'll be in Big Trouble.)

Joey Is Lucky

We just found the camera. And my pants.

It was made into the bed.

Poor Joey made the bed this morning and somehow in his half asleep state he either stuck my pants and the camera inside the covers, or just didn't notice that they were there.

I'm not sure the latter is a former option because my pants were at the foot of the bed and weren't actually IN the bed until after he made it.

I spent about 5 minutes looking for my pants earlier this evening, so I'm quite happy to be reunited with them.

Also with the camera.

(Joey's falling asleep right in protest of the entire Internet knowing that he somehow made both my pants and the camera into the bed. Poor fellow.)

Concern: Joey Becomes More Like My Pops

I was determined to wear my I Love Panda bracelet today. I wore my outfit that sort of matched it, got ready in record time, and had Joey tie my bracelet on my wrist.

He did a very nice job of it, I might add.

"Go get the camera so we can take a picture of the bracelet and then put it on my blog. I want everyone to see the sweet bracelet that The Kid got me!" I said.

"OK." Joey started looking for the camera.

We were uploading pictures of Henry's pathetic haircut last night, so the camera was on Joey's dresser in our room. He'd taken it to put it away when we got up in the morning.

Joey came and found me finishing up my makeup. "I can't find it."

Mind you, he'd been up for about a half hour.

"How'd you lose it already?!" I wailed, thinking this did not bode well for us. (My Pops loses cameras like it's his second job. But we still love him a lot and don't really blame him for any of the losses, it's goblins that steal them.)

"I don't know but I can't find it." He was sort of wilty.

"How can I put pictures of the bracelet on my blog if we can't find the camera?" I whined, naughtily.

"Well, you'll just have to get over it," Joey said bravely, "Because we can't find the camera."

YOU can't find the camera, I thought about adding, but wisely held my tongue.

And so it's 10:34 p.m. and we still can't find the camera. Honestly, our apartment's not that big. I don't know where the stupid thing could have gone to. I suppose you'll never get to see the I Love Panda bracelet if we can't find our camera.

Oh--good news; Pops has a new camera! Sister found it for him and thus far it has not been lost. So things are looking up on his end. It made it all the way to Texas and back without Incident which causes all of the children to breathe great sides of relief.

My Snack

About 3:00 every afternoon I pretend I'm in kindergarten and get a snack.  Today I am having:

1/2 an organic apple

1 piece of organic string cheese

several organic pretzels, broken in half to delay gratification

 

With a snack this organic, I am feeling like I need to take my shoes off, dance in daisy fields, and buy some canvas shopping bags.

Why This Is A Good Friday

First of all, it's awesome that I thought yesterday was Monday and didn't realize until the end of the day that it was really Thursday.  (That's just like Christmas!)  So tomorrow I get to sleep in and loaf around with Grandpappy and Grandma. 

 

(I've never actually called him "Grandpappy" before and now that I've done it I probably never will again.  It creeped me out a lot to say that...reminded me of Huckleberry Finn and, while Gramps does own a pair of overalls, I am pretty sure that he always wears shoes and rarely chews on straw.)

 

Additionally, I am wearing my "I Love Panda" bracelet.  I had Joey tie it on my wrist this morning and I don't think I could get it off if I tried.  No one has noticed it.  I'm considering wearing it until someone says "what's that on your wrist?"  which, around here, could be awhile.

 

Oh, and I'm eating a peanut butter and sugar sandwich.  Nothing is as good as a peanut butter and sugar sandwich.  (Sorry, mom.)   Well, wait, maybe Lucky Charms...but only if the bowl has tons of marshmallows in it.

 

I'm sure that you can now see why this is probably the best Friday I've had in a long time.

 

Henry Gets Shorn

Henry was cute and fluffy up until yesterday evening.

Pops said, "Wow, he looks really fat," when he first saw Henry. As a mother, I was naturally quite peeved.

"He is not either fat, it's just his fur." I retorted.

"Right," said Pops. (And then he got down on his hands and knees and chased Henry around while growling at him. It was a sight to be seen, I'm tellin' you.)

This is a picture of my little puppy BEFORE he was shorn. I suppose one could argue that he does indeed look a bit pudgy.
This is the poor chap now. He looks small, naked and gangly. He also has bad posture.
In another week or so he'll be cute again, but he always looks like someone took a hacksaw to his fur after I'm done giving him his haircut. But it does save a pretty penny and so I'm OK with having an ugly dog for a few days.

Poor little guy.