Grab a chair and a couple of root beers...

I want to thank you all for the lovely birthday wishes! And thank you, lusiology for the cake! Hee!!

And you should all be very, very proud of me. I started walking again a couple of weeks ago, and I managed to walk a mile today!! YAY!! Once I work myself back up to five miles, I'll start running again.

I'm kinda tired of being "pleasantly plump."

We've had all kinds of adventures over the last week around here. Friday night, we had friends over, so I spent most of the week tidying things up, and Friday morning, while I was picking up shoes, socks, books, and other detritus that the kids tend to leave all over the floor, tables, couches, etc, I discovered the desiccated remains of... the gods only know what. Might have been a mouse, might have been an unfortunate member of the spiny lizard tribe... who knows. So, after about ten minutes of squeamishness and, "oh, ugh... blech... why am I always the one finding this stuff," among other complaints, I picked it up carefully and disposed of it. Found a few more, got rid of them, and thought that was it.

However, once our guests arrived, I noticed R kept wrinkling her nose, though she was trying to be subtle about it, and I thought, "Oh, great, there's probably more of whatever it was that I didn't find, and now it smells... wonderful."

We never smelled it, even after going outside and coming back in.

Then Saturday morning, I got up and shuffled into the kitchen for caffeine to wake my brain up... and beat a hasty retreat back to the bedroom, gagging and wheezing.

Seriously, guys, you shouldn't have to think, "Dear gods, what the hell crawled into my house and died," before you've even had enough caffeine to be even semi human.

A frantic search of the house narrowed it down to the kitchen/living room/utility room. But practically tearing those rooms up revealed nothing, and we had soccer to deal with, both with the Impossible Son having a game, and the Impertinent Daughter refereeing a U6 game. *sudden LOL at the thought of the "Impertinent Referee"*

Except... I started itching like crazy while we were out there, EVEN THE INSIDE OF MY MOUTH!!! WTF????

We came home, where Auntie ingested mass quantities of Benadryl and passed out for the afternoon, thus enabling the Husbandly One to take the kids shopping at WalMart and stopping by a local resale shop to buy a 10 speed bike for himself (for $20).

This is relevant, trust me.

I woke up and was hustled outside so he could show off his acquisition. Not quite with it, I nodded, and watched him ride it around, and tried to be properly impressed. However, being in a Benadryl haze, I probably didn't succeed too well at this wifely duty. THO decided this bike, being a Bianchi (???), should go in the garage. So... he opened it up...

... and we all promptly staggered back, coughing, gagging, eyes watering, and flailing as we struggled to find the edge of the Funk Zone for some badly needed oxygen.

OMG... whatever it was... it was in... the ... garage.

The garage. Filled with boxes. And boxes. And boxes of... unpacked stuff from our last move.

Pity the Husbandly One. We all abandoned him to the thankless job of shifting the boxes to find ... The Corpse.

Of course, there was a corpse. There had to be a corpse. With a funk that strong? Honey!!

And... it was. It was the corpse of... a possum.

*pauses while eloquent_toast cries out in dismay*

We knew a family of possums had taken up residence either under our deck or in the bamboo of the backyard. Evidently, this particular possum found his way into the garage... but couldn't find his way out.

The Husbandly One removed le dead opossum and disposed of him/her/it properly, then sprinkled cat litter over the spot to dry it up and deodorize.

Eurgh.

Sunday, we needed to run into Austin to a Men's Wearhouse to get the Impossible Son fitted for a tuxedo. He is going to be an usher in my second oldest niece's wedding. And he is going to look unbelievably cute! And hell, yes, I'm going to take pictures!!

It was at the moment that we were walking out of the store that I suddenly realized...

1.) This was going to be a formal wedding.

2.) This was going to be a very formal wedding.

3.) One cannot wear the very casual clothing I have to a formal wedding.

4.) I have to go shopping, for myself, and for the Impertinent One for clothes for a formal wedding.

5.) I have no idea what the hell to get.

Y'all already know, right, that I am absolutely hopeless at shopping for myself? That I should not be allowed to buy clothes for myself, because I am pathetic at it?

You see the problem?

I was not mentally prepared to shop for clothes. It did not go well. One should not bring a 9 year old boy along to shop for clothes when one is trying to get used to the idea of shopping for clothes again.

It did not end well.

I also realized that I have completely lost my "shopping at department stores" skills. The Husbandly One is dreadfully spoiled, y'all. I don't shop for clothes all the time, and when I do, it tends to be jeans and such, and sneakers. Because I don't shop for shoes like I used to, either. And I don't shop for makeup. Which... I need to, now. Ugh.

And I have until the 16th.

*flail*

Needless to say, I'm doing my research now. And plan to hit either San Marcos or Austin's Barton Creek Mall this weekend for clothes. Hopefully, the Impertinent Daughter will keep me from making a frump of myself.

And, the Impossible Son had a project due this week. They're reading A Paradise Called Texas by Janice Jordan Shefelman in his class, and the students were required to build a model ship based on the Margaretha, the ship in the book that took German immigrants to Texas. It's both a test grade and a reading grade for the class.

Fortunately, I knew about this several weeks ago, so I'd been gathering materials beforehand to get ready. We built it out of two 12-pack soda can boxes, one for the body of the ship, one, cut into two pieces, for the poop deck and forecastle, and two cardboard tubes that came from boxes of parchment paper for the masts. A pencil was used for the mast that juts out from the bow of the ship, and I drew the figurehead that hung below it. We worked on it for three days, and it turned out to be absolutely awesome! Plus, made from recycled materials, YAY!! Unfortunately, I did not get a photo of it before it was taken to school. Blame fatigue and not enough caffeine!

And now, I must get ready to get my hair cut. It is time. Since my hair is growing back, thanks to the new meds, it is getting very thick. While the curl hasn't come back, it still has a mind of its own, so the best way to deal with it is to cut it into submission. It's already getting long enough to bother me, and I know my stylist is going to fuss at me again for not coming in every six weeks. Well... sometimes I can, and... sometimes I can't. That's the life of a busy mom for you!

See you later!

*goes off merrily on her way*

Thirteen years ago today, I was driving the Husbandly One nuts every time the door to my hospital room popped or squeaked. I'd sit up and say, "Is she here yet? Have they brought her?"

And he'd groan and say, "No, honey, she's not here yet, for pete's sake, GO BACK TO SLEEP!!" because we'd been up all night the night before.

Over and over, any time a door down the hall opened, my door would squeak, groan, or pop, and I'd sit up and say, "Now? Is she here now??"

And he'd throw a pillow at me.

I should have been exhausted, and I was, but I couldn't sleep. I was drugged up to my eyeballs, but I couldn't close them to save my life. I couldn't sleep, couldn't relax, couldn't do anything until I saw my daughter.

Then the nurses finally brought her into my room, and I held out my arms, and they handed her to me, and I forgot all about everything else as I eagerly unwrapped the blankets and counted every finger, every toe, looked into her face, sniffed her head, and kissed her and said, "Yep, this is my kid," then promptly curled up with her in my arms and went fast asleep.

And the Husbandly One said, "Hey! No fair!! You kept me up ALL NIGHT LONG!! WAKE UP!!"

And the nurses said, "AAAACK! SHE CAN'T SLEEP WITH THE BABY IN HER ARMS!! PUT THE BABY BACK IN THE BASSINET!!"

So the Husbandly One picked the baby up and put her back in the bassinet. Whereupon I promptly sat up, not quite awake, and started reaching and whining for my child. So, he picked her back up, put her back in my arms, and I promptly curled on my side with her in my arms and went right back to sleep. When the nurses freaked, THO said, "My wife wants the baby in her arms, she gets to keep the baby in her arms. They'll both sleep better that way. Now, if you're done here, go find someone else to bother!" So they did.

And so began our adventures with the Impertinent Daughter, who introduced us to the joys and horrors of Parenthood. It has definitely been a rollercoaster ride! And we've enjoyed every single second, even the terrifying ones!!

Happy Birthday, Impertinent Daughter! Love you bunches!!

Well, it's been a very long and tiring birthday. THO woke me up... the BEST way (and what that was never you mind!), and then let me find my present, which was a new iPod shuffle to replace the OLD iPod shuffle. YAY!!

Then, after a bout of nerves, we got everybody cleaned up, dressed, and loaded into the minivan for the trip to Houston.

First thing I have to say about THO when going on a road trip is... he hates to make "unscheduled" stops (meaning any stop that isn't on his mental road trip plan), which makes me alternately want to laugh, or grab him by the throat and shake him. Because, really, dude, when you have kids, frequent stops is a reality, especially if you have a little boy who has apparently inherited his Grand-Daddy's small bladder.

I will say the Buckees just outside of Luling is astonishing. The women's restroom is HUGE and... I dunno why, but for some reason, it made me think of a living room. *is puzzled and disturbed*

Anyhow, we only made it as far as Flatonia before THO decided we needed to eat, then after that, we made pretty good time. THO managed to get past the Impossible Son's asking, "Where are we?" and "Are we there yet?" by getting him to read the mileage signs every single time they popped up. "Look, Little Man, what does that sign say?"

"Ummmm... Houston... 95 miles!"

Twenty minutes later. "There's another one, Bubba, what does it say?"

Impossible Son, getting a little annoyed: "It says Houston, 91 miles. And I don't want to read those signs any more, Papa."

Twenty minutes later. "Hey look, Mr. Manzie! What does that sign say?"

Frowning. "It SAYS Houston 84 miles... can I stop reading the signs now?"

(by the way, the miles and timespans are guesstimates off the top of my sleepy head)

THO made him read them ALL!! And you can just bet the trip home was MUCH quieter! At least on that aspect!

Houston was... interesting. Lots of broken trees, patched windows, tile stripped off roofs, etc. What really hit me was when we got past downtown Houston and were heading south on I-45, especially as we got close to the University of Houston. I kept frowning at the concrete barriers that line the freeway there, thinking maybe my glasses were dirty or something. But when I took them off, the smudgy, spotty marks were still on the barriers and it dawned on me what they were. The barriers are a little taller than normal in that section, and the bridges there that lead to the contraflow lanes, as well as exits to the University, etc, all make the freeway narrower and almost tunnel-like in places. The marks I saw were... SCOUR marks, where the hurricane force winds had picked up sand and grit, and in the wind tunnel created by the bridges and barriers, had SCOURED the finish off the concrete barriers, as well a portion of the road we were on. Stunning, no?

My folk's neighborhood lost a lot of trees, and there were some really big, really old trees there. My mom looked good, though tired. The Practical Sister looked drained, but. they both looked more cheerful than I had expected, and I soon found out why. Dad went in for a procedure on Friday where the doctors basically went in and treated the nerves leading to the areas where he was hurting the most and chemically blocked them off. In other words, they can't fire off pain signals to his brain anymore. It should last for two or three months, at which time they can do it again. He's feeling so much better! And was much perkier and alert than I've seen him in a long time. That was almost as good as a birthday present right there!!

He has lost a great deal of weight, though. He's about 138 pounds, which is the thinnest I've ever seen him. And I have to confess, when I went to his room to wake him up, I had to stand there for a moment as I looked down at him, and fight for my composure. He looks so... frail, so...light around the edges.

It was a good visit with everyone. I did some hand-sewing and repair for Mom that she can't do for herself, while THO joined the other husbands to trim back broken branches, retrieve lawn furniture and broken pots, and then climbed up on the roof to seal some leaks.

I'll post some pics later, but now, I just want to go to bed.

You know, it didn't occur to me until just now that I didn't get a birthday cake. Oh well.

*yawns* Sleepytime, over and out!

Had Miss Priss' birthday party today. Her actual birthday was at the beginning of May, but we had to keep putting off and putting off her party because either someone was sick or we had this urgent thing to do, that urgent thing to do...well, you know how it goes.

Turned out to be a good day. Didn't have a whole lot of kids over, which was okay. One thing I have learned over the years is to have the basics for a party available, and step back. See, I used to try to plan my kids' parties. You know, have games, goodie bags, music, or movies, etc...

You know what? No matter how well you plan... it very rarely goes right. What ends up happening is (1) someone gets hurt (2) someone loses something (3) someone tears/stains/loses part of their clothing and (4) the kids get bored and say, "There's nothing for us to doooooo!!!"

Then one year, we barely managed to scrape a party for Miss Priss together. We'd been so busy her birthday practically snuck up on us, and I remember being in a panick about it. Her party was literally made up as we went along. I remember one being the kids taking off their shoes and crawling across the floor trying to take off each other's socks while trying to keep their own socks on their feet. I had the timer set for five minutes. Whoever still had at least one sock still on was the winner. But one thing I learned that year was... the less structured the party was... the more fun the kids had... and the less frazzled I was.

Now, when your kids are really small, structure keeps them from The Meltdown. But then, you keep the party really short. One hour is good. But when they're older, well, they're pretty good at entertaining themselves, and really, they don't want to play pin the tail on the donkey. They want to run around and play, or listen to music and see who has the dorkiest dance moves, etc. Today, Miss Priss made up a game utilizing our old dart board. She got us to buy balloons, and the Husbandly One picked up some extra darts. She tacked balloons to the dartboard, and whoever hit it in three tries got a prize. Now, our local WalMart has had Wind-up Sushi (which cracks us up, I'm telling you! I'll post pics tomorrow, promise), which my kids have been buying and stashing JUST FOR THIS PARTY! So, that was one of the prizes. A big bath squooshy was another, some sticky frogs (they're these very realistic looking frogs that you can throw at the wall, or the window, and they just... stick there. It's CREEPY!!!), and some sort of squashy, icky substance that is rather like that old Nickelodeon Gak, but... it's even more disgusting. Yeah, those were the prizes.

And it was all a big success!! The kids either were outside, playing with the darts, or inside, watching Miyazaki movies, or outside, playing tag, or inside, watching Pokemon, or outside... well, you get the picture. We supplied snacks, drinks (water, soda, juice, and ICE TEA), and the cake... the kids did the rest. And kept themselves duly occupied for THREE HOURS!!!

Most relaxing kids' birthday party I've ever thrown!!

And now, I go pass out for the night!

When it comes to buying gifts for me, the Husbandly One is either hit or miss. When he hits, he hits it right on the nose, as we saw when he got me the FIFA rules of soccer book. But when he misses? Oh man, does he do it spectacularly!!

Case in point, this morning. As is his usual habit, he left my birthday present where I would find it when I got up this morning. On the computer keyboard. The card made me snicker, and then I opened the beautifully wrapped present and then the box and stared at it, thinking, "WTF??"

I know he's always nervous buying jewelry for me. He shouldn't be. All he has to do, really, is look at what I already wear. It's not like I wear a lot of jewelry. Mostly earrings, sometimes a necklace, bracelets... It's not rocket science.

So, I found myself staring at this... necklace. It's got these HUGE chunks of what the card inside said were red coral (I hope not, because then it would be illegal, unless it was made from recovered, pre 1960 jewelry). But, the chunks don't look like red coral so much as they look like the stumps of bloody fingers.

Yeah. That's exactly what I said.

My first thought was, "Why does my husband want me to wear bloody fingers on a chain around my neck???" I looked around the bedroom almost fearfully, in case there were more boxes. After all, maybe this was part of a Halloween costume, and maybe I was going to be a wild Malay pirate, or a cannibal, or something. A serial killer with trophies, perhaps??

Then he came in the bedroom, peeking around the door to peer at me hopefully. "Do you like it?"

Guys, I gave it my best shot. I tried very very hard to pretend it was the best thing since sliced bread, but y'all gotta know, I can't lie worth a damn. I struggled, tried to smile and say, "I love it!" but instead, what came out was a snort of laughter, then more, until I was laughing so hard I was in pain!! Yes, there were tears streaming down my face, and he drooped, which made me laugh even harder, and he said, "You don't like it."

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to be coherent. "I'm so, so sorry, honey, I'm trying my damndest, but no, I... oh, this is just so not me."

"Well, it's art jewelry, so, I thought you'd like it!" he protested.

OMG. No, no, no, no. I am not a big, chunky jewelry type person. Never have been. Not even with bracelets. And I do have some art jewelry, made by artists that I know, and some of it I wear, and some of it I don't. But, no, not a big chunky jewelry person. Especially big chunky jewelry that looks like dismembered body parts!

Fortunately, he still had the receipt, and he literally ordered me to go exchange it today, so I have done that, and got something a little more my style.

What a birthday this is shaping up to be so far, I must say!!

*still laughing*

My house is being invaded by pre-teen girls.

HELP!!!!!

The Impertinent Daughter and three friends are having a post-birthday party sleepover.  Normally, this would not be a problem, as two of the girls in question have spent the night before, I'm familiar with them, and that's great.  However, the third child (J)  goes to the same school as Miss Priss.  The other two (B and K)  do not.  J sees Miss Priss every day.  B and K do not.  In fact, they haven't seen her in a couple of months, and were really looking forward to spending time with her.  I am sure you experienced moms with kids the same age as mine or older see the problem already.  The Impertinent Daughter is in the midst of an Important Life Lesson.  

When having overnight guests, it is important that the guests in question all get along.  Otherwise, one is in for a VERY long night.  And when having a party during the day, and planning for only a limited number of participants to stay the night, it is imperative not to discuss those plans in front of those who are not among that limited number.  Otherwise, one of those guests might invite themselves to stay, and if one does not clue one's mother in on this beforehand, one's mother will say, "oh, no problem, she can stay if you like."  

Yes, I am having fun now.

I have already had to deal with sulks.  And had to run interference twice.  J is a very, VERY high maintenance guest.  I have already had to wash her jeans for her, since she knelt down in glitter paint, I shudder to think of where.  I have had to find something for her to sleep in.  I have had to fend her off, because she has no sense of personal boundaries and will push right through my personal space to talk to me.  I'm sorry, I have real problems talking to someone I have to cross my eyes to see.  Hello, shy person here, get outta my personal space!!

Of course, she's a kid, I can mostly handle it.  But STILL!!!

Is it tomorrow yet? 

It's been an interesting day.  Well, at least the part I was awake for, that is.  It's ragweed and fall elm season, so my allergies are going nuts, and even though the drought has knocked back the ragweed somewhat, there's still enough pollen around to make my lungs try to implode.  So, I'm dosed up to my eyeballs with my back-up antihistime, Benadryl (and by the way, the taste of the cherry flavored Benadryl is absolutely appalling, to the point where I seriously wonder if this regular breathing thing is all its cracked up to be.  Hey, I can live on less oxygen... right?  Right?).  The formula seems to have been changed, because where before it may have made me a little drowsy, now it drops me in my tracks like I've been clubbed by a nightstick!  So I have spent the last two days in either a stupor, or deep sleep.  Fun times!

Still, it's my birthday today, and so I have received cards, and phone calls... at least, while I was awake.  It's not officially my birthday until my dad sings "Happy Birthday" to me in his own special way, which is really goofy, but hey, he's old, he can do what he likes.  If he wants to sing "Happy Birthday" like a very bad Bing Crosby, that's just fine with me!  We haven't always gotten along, and our relationship is at best, complicated, but I understand him better now than I once did.  So... if he wants to sing "Happy Birthday" to me, I'll listen, and laugh, and wonder what the heck I'm gonna do when he's gone.  Count backwards perhaps?  Refuse to age any further?  Hey, sounds like a plan to me!

My mother-in-law called to trill "Happy Birthday" in my ear as well, and I smiled, and thanked her, and chatted a bit.  We get along well enough, for which I am grateful, having seen what my sisters go through with their M-I-L's.  I am also Southern enough to recognize her vague criticisms for what they are, and blithely ignore them, chatting cheerfully with her, and heaving a big sigh of relief when I hang up the phone.  Love her to pieces, but oh, she can drive me nuts!

So, now I go off to bed, another year older, hopefully another year wiser, with a few more silver hairs on my head, and a few more laugh crinkles around my eyes.  Hey, it's MY roadmap, and I can crinkle it any way I like!  


love,

Auntie