I Reek of Disappointment

     I had a scary dream last week. I don't know which part was more creepy; the fact that it could easily be a real life situation, or the part that I turned too violent. Again. In my dream, I was having car troubles, and an acquaintance offered to help. He was a medium built blonde haired male to which I can't recall a name. After fixing my car, I gave him a ride to his vehicle and said, "Thank you so much for the help." He responded, "Oh, no. A simple thank you is not enough. You must have mis-understood my conditions." Then things got really scary. Sensing something bad was about to happen, I parked the car in the corner of two buildings and opened my door to make an escape. He grabbed me and my purse before I was able to flee, but I managed to fumble in my purse long enough to get a grip on my stun gun (I carry it with me in real life when I go running alone. It's pink and very powerful. Just like a vagina.) I held the stun gun down to his flesh until his body displayed symptoms of dibilatating shock, and immediately retreated to the car for my get away. There was only one way to back the car out, being cornered in by the buildings, so when I gassed the pedal in reverse, I felt a large speed bump. I drove over the man. I had no choice. Freaked, I shifted to drive forward, desperate to find a safe place. Another speed bump. I immediately began to panic and called Patrick, worried that if I reported the incident to 911, I would be charged with murder. My body showed no signs of physical struggle, since I was able to gain control of the situation so rapidly, and I frantically considered ways I could prove my case of self defense and accidental man-slaughter. Plea temporary fear induced insanity? Would they question why I called my husband before dialing 911? It was at this moment of distress that my dream abruptly ended. Horrific nightmare. 

     I think I've mentioned before that I can sleep through anything. I wish I wouldn't have slept through that dream! My very first car accident was caused by me falling asleep at the wheel. With a wide open field to my left, and a barbed wire fence containing a neighbor's cattle to my right, I never even knew I closed my eyes until I felt the jolt of my Chevy Blazer crashing into a T-post. As soon as I re-oriented myself, my foot instinctively hit the brakes, but the barbed wire had already snapped and dug it's fangs across the entire width of the vehicle. I was only 0.25 miles away from home. 

     My success rate for finishing movies on the same night we start them is about 50%. Often times my heavy eye lids get the best of me, and we have to split the suspense, only getting through about 1 hour of film per night. I seriously don't know how I stay awake for much of anything in life. Maybe I'm dreaming the whole thing?

     After 6 years of being together, my husband still gets frustrated with me about this. My mom says it will all change one day when I have a baby. I'm not sure how much truth there is to that, but for now, I've hit an all time low. I was extremely excited about attending our first game of the season, for Patrick to finally get to sit in the seats I picked out for us months ago that I had to work 3 extra shifts to pay for! And then, the fatigue set in, creeping up on me like fog in the night. I actually slept through a basketball game, in the American Airlines Center amongst thousands of cheering fans, with the announcer chiming in every minute, a band playing nearby, and an annoying lady next to me clapping her folded poster in an obnoxiously loud manner. I have no explanation for my behavior. I'm embarrassed, but not as embarrassed as the Mav's should be for the way they've played the last couple of games. We abandoned our seats in the 3rd quarter, since being down by 30 and having a wife asleep on his shoulder probably wasn't the most exciting experience for you-know-who. 
     Little Sumo Wrestler was already on the same page. Ready to cuddle. We {Sumo and I} fight over this blanket nightly, that's why there's little specks on grass on it! 

        In case you were wondering, today is one of my most favorite days in the year. Yes. On this day, a few decades ago, a baby boy was born. That baby turned into a scrawny little kid with big ears and a silly personality, to later transform into the handsome wonderful man that I married a little over 3 years ago. His mother and father couldn't have raised a kinder, gentler, more thoughtful son/husband/best friend/brother. I am so thankful for every extra second he is here to bless my life. Happy Birthday, my love; you are the ink to my pen! Thanks for tolerating me.
     And for the record: Denver Nuggets really do have sissy colors. I don't care if they beat us.

What's the most exciting thing you've ever slept through?

A Different Kind of Cake

This is my last post about Christmas. I promise. . . . . . .Until next year!

We got this beautiful delivery from Patricks parents to kick start the weekend. 

What was the best part about everyone coming to my house for Christmas?!?! I got to stay in my pajamas the entire day! Of course I had to work the night's Eve, so once again I was functioning off of borrowed energy, but it was worth the effort. 

The puppies got new jackets, since they've been chilly this month, and the new Martha Stewart skunk toy was a big hit. (The last one was so popular, I had to dispose of it after the disintegrating started!)

Apparently, this is what "we aren't going to buy each other presents this year" looks like for us. It's obvious we are all good at abiding to rules.
My mom got herself a rodent bombing gun. It's probably a good idea to stay out of her pantry. She hit the jack pot this year: sniper, spa day (Presented in a re-used card that was placed in a reused envelope, with visible white-out writings from a previous life and all. We laughed pretty hardily about all this, and Patrick's creative wrappings. We gave them much deserved credit for both creativity and most environment friendly presentations), and a hard back colored copy of my blog that she requested!!! 

This was one of my favorite wrapped presents from my hunny. Neatly constructed from white duct tape and some sort of left over plastic baggy, I ranked it as "most creative". He always knows how to spice things up. Among other things, I got an array of coffee's for my super duper amazing coffee maker, and a fancy fry-daddy that I'm sure to be breaking in soon.

Dusteroo was more than thrilled to unwrap this knife sharpener. To each his own. He's already started sharpening objects around the house. 

We spent the day giggling, drinking margaritas and jalepeno ginger Mexican martinis, and preparing a fajita feast. Yummy.

My Dad's wearing the fancy sport durag  I got him last year for Christmas!! Best gift I've ever got him!

And last but definitely not least, I got a spin bike for Christmas, complete with a big red bow!!!!!!! It. Is. Awesome. A perfect compliment to the new cute socks and unbelievably comfortable Nike workout pants my hunny got me! Now I need to get some pedals so I can clip in, and I'll be on my way to being bikini season  fit in no time! (Target already has bathing suits out! EEK!)

After all the hype had calmed, it was time to celebrate a short coming birthday that handsome husband of mine has lurking in the near future. My mom presented the delicious Tiramisu cake she ordered, just for him. It was a beautiful cream colored rectangle, garnished by dark chocolate accents, jam packed with rich flavors of rum, decadent even, while maintaining light and airy, *maybe even dangerous characteristics. We all gorged ourselves in the cold delicacy, and passed the evening's time listening to Patrick serenade us with old school rock on the guitar, while my mom got her ass handed to her in Othello by Muah, with my dad and brother battling for the spotlight of who can snore the loudest on the couch. 

It was some moment in that blur of time that Patrick started to complain about his ears being hot, which isn't unusual. The boy lives hot. They were undoubtedly blood-shot red, but it couldn't have been warmer than 60 degrees in the house. He opened the living room door to freeze us all anyway. We shrugged off his complaints through our shivers, blaming it on his abundant beer consumption, but it wasn't long before he was pacing the floor with anxiety about his overwhelming sensations of flushed cheeks, red hot ears, and pearls of sweat forming on his forehead. We kicked him outside to morph into a human popsicle, eat an ice-cream sandwich, and encouraged a cold shower, but despite his efforts, the symptoms lingered. Then we noticed something. The bilateral arm rash, presenting in perfect symmetry that was migrating it's way to his face. We commented on our assessment, suspecting hives, and Patrick began to verbalize his increased effort to breathe.

A little nervous, I searched the house for Benadryl. BINGO; found some. FAIL: Expired 2007. I searched my work bag and found more. Double FAIL: Expired 3/2010. (I should really clean out our medicine cabinet more often!) I web searched a 24hr CVS and called this time, to prevent any unnecessary emotional breakdowns. My brother and I made the trip, got the non-expired meds, and escaped death by the skin of our noses before making it back home. (A car was driving on a main road at midnight without their lights on came alarmingly close to T-boning us!) I slipped Patrick off into a Benadryl induced coma and started the third book of The Hunger Games. From one suspense story to another. We've yet to decide what exactly set him off (* I'm blaming it on the Tiramisu so I can have the rest all to myself), but he was still requiring the anti-histamine to keep the reaction under control as of last night. Whatever the case, we've got to stop this little trend of Urgent Care threats on holidays!

Are you allergic to anything??? What's your favorite kind of cake?!?!? Do you think it's too early to sell bathing suits?

Having the Cake. Eating the Cake. That's How I Roll!

**One Week Ago**

We are always running ourselves ragged when we make a trip to the home-town. Too much to do, too much to see. This day was particularly tiring since I worked the night before and was running off of exactly no sleep in 26 hours. I finally crashed, while sweet Sumo kept me company. We celebrated an extra early Christmas with Patrick's family and then I went back to sleep. Again. And that's my weak explanation for why I have exactly zero pictures of Christmas with Patrick's side of our lovely family. But Patrick did manage to catch this moment in digital image history.  

The next day we celebrated an early Christmas at Nana's house. She got a new tree for the first time since I was a wee little girl. Last year, her broke one had to be tied to the wall so it would stand upright! My mom sewed her little tree ornaments in the form of Ginger Men and tied them to every present instead of using a bow. 

We had beer and steaks, which meshed just right for such a fine occasion. Those faces explain it all!!!

Remember how I broke my carafe as an unconscious request for a Keurig? Well then I pulled a classic me, by confusing Patrick, and requested only a cheap little Mr. Coffee, as a trade, so he could surprise me with a spin bike I wanted.  After much resistance, he gave in, and I unwrapped my Mr. Coffee on Saturday. On Sunday, my Aunt Sissy gave me a Keurig! I was so thrilled, but soon learned of poor Patrick's anguish. "That's the face I wanted you to make when I got you the Keurig, but you told me not to get you one. I got you exactly what you asked for, and now you're just going to return it!!!" he said. Sorry dear. The depths of a woman's rationalizations and reasoning's, especially mine, have many complex layers that you may never quite be able to fathom. And approached with the opportunity to have my cake and eat it to, I need my man to be understanding. I know you will be, and that's why I love you. 

I, of course, returned both items, and exchanged them for the super duper Keurig with all the features, because if your gonna have your cake and eat it too, it might as well be the best cake available. Don't judge me. 
My dad got some new head gear, which includes ear coverings and a light on the bill. Just up his alley; the man is always in need of something to cover up that Mr. Clean head of his!

Poor Cousin Ally had to work, so it was just me and the boys for the majority of the day! Everyone took a turn taking a nap, except Patrick, a tale tell sign, that he's not genetically family. 

Don't be fooled by all the smiles. There was plenty of holiday arguing to keep things on an even keel. 

My Nana made me a clove'd orange. Kickin' it old school! I wish I could post a scratch and sniff of how beautiful it smells. In the background, gracing our frig, you can see the precious pieces of art our niece Emily made for us. I love them both!

Now please excuse me while I go have some more of my cake.....*ah hem*.....I mean, coffee!

Tune in tomorrow, when I discuss a different kind of "cake".

When was the last time you "had your cake and ate it too"? What was "it"?!?!?

Ho HO Ho

For some reason, the Christmas photoshop App's always work better with my face instead of Patrick's! I guess it's because I have round rosy cheeks like Santa Claus!

 It seems like there is always SOMEONE, wondering what the heck Patrick and I are taking a picture of!! Mind your own bee's-wax. Smallest pineapple in the world? I think so. Worth buying? Probably not, but it's super cute!

Callie and Sumo want to wish you and your family a very Merry Holiday!

 May your hearts be warm with love, and belly's be full with grub! 

Keep receipts for all your gifts, just in case they don't uplift.

Hope your stocking melts your soul, instead of finding jet black coal.

Don't forget to thank the Lord, read my blog if you get bored!

Have a kpLOVE Christmas!!!!

Back to the Grind

     I jumped off my rebel-against-the-gym bandwagon this week. Dove right back in to the grind. I'm not going to lie, the first day I only completed 40 minutes on the Elliptical, and I genuinely thought I may pass out and possibly die of exhaustion. Have you ever been so tired that when you drink water it tastes like milk? Absurd, but real. The next day I completed 1 hour of spin class, heading in with a goal of just finishing, since expectation only leads to utter disappointment. Of course I attend on endurance day, but we jammed our little legs out to upbeat Christmas music and it was super enjoyable. As enjoyable as pushing your body to it's limits can be. I actually felt great at the end of class, but by night fall I had to pop an Aleve, my body was aching so bad. If I said, "Never again", it'd be a lie, but for now, I'm tired of feeling like I look like Santa.

Halt!!! I need to check my list before you can get any closer to me or this tree. 

     It's been a busy span of off days, but I decided to use one of them as a "me" tribute. I relived some tension in the gym, had enough time to take a hobo shower and make it to may hair appointment (Where I addressed the someone-with-cuter-hair-than-me issue and found out apparently you have to be 'pregnant and mean' to get the best cut. At the end of my appointment, he said,"Now she'll be asking me why your hair is cuter then hers!". . . . . .and I agree), followed that up with a deep muscle massage to get some ease from my ever-lasting tortuous tangle of knotted muscle residing behind my scapula's, and made it home just in time for Patrick and I to go to Carrabbas, where we met up with Billy and Nikki, for some majorly good Italian that tastes just as good left over as the very night it was prepared. I could easily pull a Patrick, and make my stomach explode by eating their table sourdough bread with toasted herb and olive oil dip.

     Of course I had loads of errands to run on my last free day off work. I must say, people really come out of the water works around the holidays. It's like every quite their jobs! I know I live in the city, but I felt like I was in New York City! It took me twice as long to do anything, but I had the adrenaline from spin and my chocolate chip cookie from Paradise Bakery, that I was savoring throughout the day, to keep my body motivated. Any food joint that serves a cookie with their meals is alright in my books. 

     I had a major coupon to utilize at Express, on top of them having a winter sale, (and lets face it, that store is way to over priced without being armed with both of those things) so I braved the crowd. I must add, the mall aroma was amazing, fragrant with roasting pretzels, scented candles, and cologne, which actually surprised me. With all those people crammed into one building I expected it to smell a little more like farts. I'm once again reminded that I love not working in the business world. Dress clothes are ridiculously priced. But almost more ridiculous than the price, is the fact that Express hires people who don't know how to properly fold an $80 pair of dress slacks (they're bright red, by the way, and fabulous). Please people, be decent at your job. 

     Patrick and I were suppose to go look at Christmas lights every day this week, but I've been too tired by the time he gets home from work to go anywhere. We've rescheduled our way, directly into my work schedule, so I guess it will have to be postponed until next year. I even fell asleep while we were trying to have a Christmas movie marathon. The worst part, is it was on the first movie!!! He's still a little upset with me about that! 

Date Nizzle

The bittersweet House of Blues. Sweet, because the place is not only filled with the most amazing decor, but also it lives and breathes music. Bitter, becuase they wiped the menu slate clean, vanishing my favorite dish, and increased their prices! Those money hungry bastards.  If you remember from my birthday, concert tickets to see Stain'd was my last gift. I love it when your gifts are all strung out, so you always have something to celebrate!!! The tickets have been hanging on our refrigerator for weeks, and I've been itching with anticipation to use them!

We listened to a nice little acoustic duo cover-band while we ate our expensive dinner garnished with a couple glasses of wine, gave our waiter an extremely hard time about his greedy corporate boss', and headed down to the show. To be exact, we head "up" to the show, because for the first time ever, we thought we'd check out the balcony, knowing that downstairs would be packed (judging by the increasingly growing length of the line outside the venue). We told the guard we were just going in to find a friend, but then we stayed for the long haul, me taking my chances by sitting in a upper deck seat and pulling it off the entire concert. It more fun to live on the edge. . . .

I thought this mural comic was super cool, and coaxed Patrick into grabbing that cartoon lady's boobs. I love the stares this picture captured!! Those guys are obviously dumbfounded, since they don't have a woman that takes pictures of her man grabbing some other woman's "chesticles".  (I think that's a comical word. . . . .to be used while talking about a comic . . . .)

Man Made Machine was the first band to play. The lead singer literally said the "F" word about 5 times a sentence between songs. We laughed about this, and I actually started to wonder, "What really makes a bad word bad?" We discussed this with no conclusion until the next band started to play. These brothers with Aranda, had the best time playing with eachother. And by that I mean, getting down on one's knees (get your mind out of the gutter) and holding up the guitar for the other to play. . . . . and one holding the guitar while the other gave him the reach around to play it from behind. A very close relationship those boys have. 

When Stain'd came on, they rocked it out with their old school, and killed it softly with the slower hits. The sound was perfect from the balcony level; my phone was vibrating, and not because someone was calling me. Aaron Lewis, the lead, can keep remarkable poise and composer during is hardcore grunge singing. As loud and angry as that man can sing, when we talks on the microphone, he transmits nothing but the calm cool and collective image he sustains while singing every song. The audience listened in perfect silence when he sang a couple of acoustic songs, except during his new of version of "A Country Boy Can Survive", which got a lot of Texan support!

Since on the subject, it seems like an appropriate time to debut my new page! It's called Music to my Ears. Check it out! You can just click on this link, or find it in the menu on the top of the home page. 

I love small venues and date nights are always so fun!  

What's your favorite concert you've ever been to? 

He Loves Sandwiches

Have you ever attended a southern Baptist church? I've been to enough to know that neither I, nor the people around me, can sing loud enough to drown out the ringing sound that happens in my head when the white haired ladies sing in that shaky voiced opera tone they use. It's one of the reasons I think maybe I've been to one Christmas show in my entire life. If I've been to any others, the memories were so un-fond that I shunned them out. The one I recall was too corny to ever make be care about attending another. (Do you ever catch yourself typing the word "tit" when you're space-bar prematurely breaks up the word "though" joining it with "it"? I do, and it makes me giggle a little. That thought may sound random now, but what you don't know is I used those two words together, but then deleted them. Just a little behind the scenes dirt for ya.  *wink wink*) 

So, when my friend from work asked if we'd like to join her in attending a local church Christmas show, you can't blame me for my hesitation, given past experiences. But then I thought to myself, "What's the point to living life, if not adventurously?" So I said, "Sure, why not?" (In hindsight, I should have not assumed the Cowboys were having an early game, because I booked this 2.5 hour show on a Game Day Sunday, during Game Time. A major wife "no, no". Shame on me.) Among many things (like people that really can sing, unlike wanna-bee's like myself), I am thankful for DVR, which allowed me to pry the husband away from our T.V. long enough to attend this show with me. 

You can see this church from almost everywhere we've lived in this area for good reason: it's massive!!! I've always wondered what it looked like inside, and now the mystery is over. It is ridiculous. 

In the beginning of the show, we were warned to watch for flying reindeers, which I thought was pretty cute, until it actually happened. Then I thought it was pretty awesome! Look at Mr. Kringle himself flying gracefully through the air in his sleigh! Notice how magnificent that choir is! Their voices were boisterous and clear, complimenting the instrumental section perfectly. If you look closely at the bottom of the stage you can see the instrument band inset between the stages like we were in the Nokia Theater or something. 

There was something familiar about the occasion. It wasn't the church, or the subject matter, or the music. It was the fact that my husband couldn't find it within himself to actually enjoy what the show had to offer, and it wasn't because the Cowboys game was happening without him. It was because he gave in to his greedy stomach's demands and consumed way more Tri-Tip Dip Sandwhich than one man should ever have on board, knowing that he couldn't spend the rest of the evening with his pants undone, belly up on the couch. Actually, forget the pants. This feast would have defeated even the elasticity of his boxers.  Only this time, he couldn't blame his misery on me. 

Why would he ever blame it on me, you ask? Well, you see, there was this one time when we lived amongst the stars, and decided to tackle a similar Sunday-Funday dinner, only that time, with Sloppy Joes. After dinner, I learned a couple of friends were coming to a new club opening down the street, Hollywood Blvd, invitation only. I decided that sounded like a once in a lifetime chance, so signed us up to appear under a alias name. Someone who was on the list, but not coming. As we waited in line, memorizing my new name, Melnichenko, we watched several people get turned down, and the fear of rejection started rumbling within us. . . . . or maybe that was just Patrick's stomach. Anyway, we made it in. It was a spectacular show. Girls dangling from stretchy clothes suspended in the air and tumbling around things that looked like the bars you see in birdcages. Boys dressed in dunce hats and speedos dancing on the speakers. Other hired sexy dancers occupying the walls. We spent $25 on a single round of Miller Light and a Vodka Redbull. The music was loud, and the people were elbows to assholes. We were all having fun, except poor Patrick, who could barely stand he was so full. When "I Gotta Feeling" by Black Eyed Peas started playing, the air itself was vibrating and I was ready to dance! I believe it was this moment when Patrick felt like the food was going to radiate right out of his body. So we left. 

To this day, he says it was may fault. If I would have warned him we were going somewhere, he wouldn't have ate so much. To which my argument stands: why would anyone want to eat THAT MUCH in Sloppy Joes, anyway? Well this time, the fault has shifted away from me, unless you consider being such a good cook that my food is dangerously irresistible to blame. In which case, I can only shrug in response. 

The first half of the show was filled with dancing and singing of our favorite Christmas Carols, a little Vegas show performing and Stand-up humor, making light of Christian Stereotypes, which was hilarious. Then after getting everyone in good spirit, the second act told the story of Jesus, reminding us what this day of celebration should really honor. Below are flying angels descending upon the sweet baby in a manger. I'd totally want to be an angel in that play, except they all had long blonde hair, so I guess I'm completely disqualified for that pretend-oppurtunity!!!

One of my favorite parts was in the very first act, when all was quiet, and a little modest man who loved to ring his bell walked onto a blank stage. He discovered a bell that popped up on screen and played it. That one bell turned into 3, which he played, which turned into more that he played, and eventually mutated into an orchestra of bells which he instructed to play an elaborate carol. It completely took me by surprise. 

It really was nothing short of a concert. And we all know how much I like those! I'm quite sure that a few people were probably forced to tweak their hearing aids down. So once again, being open minded payed off! And for the record, over eating never pays off! 

Have you ever gone to a Christmas show? Do you like musicals?

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

When our Realtor, Robyn, called and cordially invited me to a champagne brunch followed by a trip to a mansion, I didn't hesitate to RSVP. I had no idea who would be there, or what the day would entail, but  it sounded exciting enough to me!  

As it turns out, I was the youngest at the party by a good 15-20 years, but I didn't let it hold me back. Oh no. I was ready to drink Mimosa's and mingle at a mansion I never knew existed. And it just so happens that lots of people are interested in nurses, minor traveling, and how I could possibly know Robyn, so talking out of my peer zone came easy.

 My knowledge of Dallas' history is limited. Yeah, so I'm not so much of a history buff. . . . . but I am now enlightened on the Alexander Mansion's history, located on Ross Ave in Dallas. It's story sends an impressive "Power to the Woman" message, being adopted by the first founded Women's Forum in Texas who kept the house afloat through the great depression. 

Built in 1904 for $125,000 (which modestly translates into $10 million today), it still posses all the original light fixtures, except one, and posses more intricate details the untrained eye may notice. Those marble pillars on the front of the house??? They were carried by boat from Italy and special wagons were constructed to transport them, requiring 20 horse each. 

Robyn and I thought Santa need some sugar for those rosy cheeks! I'm pretty sure if we weren't on his nice list before, we are now!

The entrance reminds me of a scene from Gone with the Wind, which leads up to a 10 foot tall Tiffany's Style window.  

Every room has elaborate wood detailing. The room above, being the library, with chairs facing a grande piano in the corner. The room below, with a dining room leading to the little tea room with light radiating warmth through the windows lined with Mother of Pearl. 

Only fine China is used here, with history behind each piece. I regret not capturing a picture of the napkin holders, which are truly unique. In the early 1900's families had to conserve in every way possible, even the wealthy ones, which is humbling in itself. One way of conserving was to use the same cloth napkin all week. Since no one wanted to share the same filthy napkin, each napkin ring holder was individually unique to the person that owned it. Every one with a story that related to it's owner. 

Mr. Alexander's sister lived with him and his family. She was a music teacher. Also, since there was no power company in Dallas in 1904, it had it's on generator!!! Wow. 

All the paintings in the Mansion have been purchased yearly over the last century by the Women's Forum. They were careful to only collect paintings by the most popular Texas artist of each year. 

There's so much more detail about the house than I shared, of course, and I'm so glad to know a little more about the city's history, especially when it represents strong independent females. You can learn a lot when you have the guts to venture out of your comfort zone!

I've been inspired. 

Is it just me, or does Santa look like he knows something else I don't know?

Do you like to learn about history? What do you do to step out of your comfort zone?

Who WAS That Guy?!?!?!

      First thing's first. I discovered 8 words that may change your life: Blueberry English Muffin and Nutella with Chocolate Milk.

     Second, look at Sumo; one of my favorite living beings in the whole world. Ridiculous. He loves to play with his squeaky toys so much, that when I was on the phone with my mom, we could barely hear each other over the sound of his toy being murdered, and I couldn't type a single letter on the keyboard because the little furry booger kept nibbling my fingers and shoving his toy between the computer and I.  

Just looking at my complex taste I realize how random I am. Pottery Barn. Crate & Barrel. Target. Anthropology. Walmart. WOW.

     Remember how I said my brother is moving to the metroplex and may have to live stay with us for a while? Well I got that situation under wraps. Don't get me wrong; I love my brother and all, but I've tried, and there's only one person in the entire universe that I can spend every day with and not want to brawl. Guess who?

True dat sista from another mista. 

     So those people {my brother and mother} came to visit last Friday and, thanks to me (not to brag. . . . . . .), we found Dusteroo a fabulously affordable place to live in some prime real estate apartments close to Patrick and I, on the first stop. I know. I know. Sometimes I even amaze myself. I refrain from describing the detailed bore on how many hours of sleep I lost over the apartment searches, but will mention it payed off in the end, not having to tour 10 complex's on a measly 3 hours of sleep. Oh night shift, don't you know I need my beauty rest? 

     And. . . . . . of course my family can't come visit without finding something wrong with my  house. Like dead squirrels in the front yard for instance. I didn't do it!!! We like to believe he lived a good life. He had plenty of trees for climbing and it was obvious he had plenty to eat.

R.I.P. little fellow

     Finding a new place to live and disposing of adorable deceased varmints is hard work, so after contracts were signed and bad checks were written (Just kidding. My mother, Sandy the Credit Nazi, would never let that happen.), we decided it was time to get some grub. My family is one of a kind, I'm sure; we can never agree on anything. . . or go more than 5 minutes without someone yelling at somebody.

Dusty: Where are we going; Carrabba's?

Sandy the Credit Nazi: No, I can't handle rich Italian.

Dusty: Jack in the Crack?

Sandy the Credit Nazi.: No. Something better than that.

Me: Let's just do drive-by's until we find something we like.

Dusty: I DON'T KNOW WHERE I'M GOING! (He thinks EVERYTHING must be guided by GPS)

Me: I live here, just drive!!!

Sandy the Credit Nazi: Ya'll just pick somewhere; it will be easier. I don't care where we go.

Me: That's so cool of you mother. How about that place.....

Sandy the Credit Nazi: Naw.....

Me: How about this place....o0o0o0o0....or that Pub. I've been dying to try their fish and chips.

Sandy the Credit Nazi: Nope. Nooooooo......I don't feel like that.

Me: I'd kill for a panenei and soup right now from Corner Bakery.

Dusty: NO!!! I'd rather eat at Subway.

Me: Whatever turd face. CB is WWAAAYYY better than Subway ever dreamed of being. What about that place over there.....

Sandy the Credit Nazi: No......

Dusty: Oh, I know! Genghis! Lets go there.

Me: Okay!

Sandy the Credit Nazi: No, I don't want to go there.

****Seriously, does anyone see a pattern here? I actually shortened that conversation for your ready pleasure.****

Dusty and I: What the deuce, Mom?!?!? You said for us to choose because you don't care, and you are in the back seat saying "no" to every single suggestion made?!?!? (As we are pulling in the Genghis parking lot, because clearly 2 out of 3 is the best it's going to get, and operation guilt trip has just been initiated.)

Sandy the Credit Nazi: **Sigh. Gazing out of the window like she's in a dramatic 80's movie scene.**

     I'll try to spare you the humdrum particulars, like how she picked at her food and complained about invisible pork gristles in pure rebellion to our course selection, but will mention how delicious my 4 meat combo was, packed onto with tasty veggies and fried rice with a spicy garlic sauce.

Dusteroo and Mother entertaining our four legged children. 

     We soon returned home, and the puppies were showered with a ludicrous amount of undivided attention. Play. Play. Play. Patrick and I soaked up the feeling of having free hands during that precious time. It's fun to watch them play and be happy at the expense of someone else's time.

     Then things just got plain silly when Dusty tried to bench-press me, and got the tickles about something. He started laughing hysterically, cackling like an old woman. I can't explain how amusing it was. It was an extreme polar of his norm.

GGGrrrrrrr........

      After they left Patrick asked me, "Who was that guy that came here with your Mother?"

Stork Tales

     This may come as a shock, but I've got to shoot it to you straight. Storks don't deliver babies anymore. They've moved on to the mailing business where they have desirable hours and better benefits. 

source

     It's all up to women now, and this is how it makes them feel. I wouldn't know. . . . .from a personal experience anyway. . . . . yet. . . . . . .

source

     Such a strange thing happened last week. As you know, every now and then I "catch babies" in the Delivery Room. Some people think that term is funny, but really, the doctor practically throws the baby at you. . . . sometimes with metal objects.  . .  . . . . . I really deserve a raise. Here's how my story went down.
     Since I was both the delivery nurse for the NICU and the admission nurse for L&D, I walked down to the second unit to get report from day shift, who is familiar with my face, but probably doesn't even know my name yet. As I walked around the corner to the nurse's station, I was met by the day shift nurse looking at me wild eyed and crazy with a big grin on her face.
     "What?!?" I asked.
     "You just really took me by surprise. . . . . . . I know what you look like and all, but one of the laboring patients looks so much like you, and she has short dark hair. . . . . and I thought. . . . . for a second, it was her walking in the hall. . . . . . . and I almost freaked out! Seriously, she's in room blah-blah-blah. You'll see I'm not crazy." She's pregnant, and everyone goes crazy when they're pregnant.
     Later that night, I went in room blah-blah-blah to catch a beautiful baby boy. I do all my necessary "nurse stuff", and when I walk into the room for the last time to give my approval to send the baby to the newborn floor, the new mother says, "Can I ask you a question? Who does your hair?" This was a funny question (funny-ironic-coincidence not funny-haha), since I really liked her hair and had been wondering who did hers. . . . . . and if your hair can look that good during and after labor, it's a pretty good cut. . . . . . .not to mention that the day nurse had mistaken me for her. . . . .     
     Anyway, the Plano population is something like 275 thousand. And I "caught" the baby of my hair dresser's best friend. Small world. Now the most important part of this, is next week when I go in for my hair appointment, and ask him {my hair dresser} why he cut someone else's hair cuter than mine. . . . . . .


Do you ever run into someone in a random place who knows someone who knows you, and you're both like...OMG...I can't you believe you know that person too....how come we've never met????