It's Always a Barrel of Laughs for B

The other day when I arrived home, B was kind enough to open the fence for me. As I passed I asked him to check to see if there was a dent in my bumper.

B: Why would there be a dent in your bumper?

Me: Oh. I couldn't remember if I was in an accident this morning or not.

B: WHAT?

You see, that morning I was driving along the freeway I heard the distinct crunch of a plastic bumper. I looked up to see the guy behind me and the guy behind him pulling off to the side and wondered briefly if I was involved. I did not remember being jolted or feeling it occur.  

Then I promptly forgot until I was driving by B.

However, what makes the above scenario that much more ridiculous is that it was not the first time we had such a conversation in the past couple of weeks. Let's rewind, shall we?

~couple weeks prior~

While sitting in our screened-in back porch, I suddenly remembered to ask B:

Me: Hey! Check the front right end of my truck to see if it has orange paint on it.

B: Why would it have orange paint on it?

Me: Maybe, I hit some barrels?

Oh, I hit some barrels.  Let's just say it involved a bit of misjudgment on my part as to the speed of the car ahead of me, the tenancity of the semi truck next to me and my ability to slow down/stop on a dime.

Let's just say that maybe three barrels lost their life.

Let's just say I may have been completely mortified at having to stop at the side of the raod until I could get things under control.

I will say, though, there was no orange paint.

 

I Don't Care Who Died on What Cross, I Just Need Some Cash!

With today being Good Friday and all, B and I decided to go for fish and chips like good nonpracticing Catholics (and at least one of us not at all Catholic). This required cash because the place only accepts cash. Seriously. We were there today and the guy in front of us tried to charge his dinner. The cashier laughed at him. He thought it was a joke and then realized it wasn't and she was laughing AT him.  He then realized he had to leave and find an ATM in a rather rough side of town. Definitely no joke there.  Oh, but they do take checks. CHECKS! Who carries those anymore? The guy looked at her like she said they take blood samples as payment.

Anyway, I headed off to an ATM in a good neighborhood (yay to planning ahead) after I left the office.  Just as I pulled my card from the machine and turned around, an older lady in her 80s came in:

Lady: Is the credit union CLOSED?

As I turned toward the totally dark and obviously closed bank, I say:

Me: Yes, it appears that it is.

Lady: WHY?

Me: Good Friday?

Lady: What?

Lady: There is not even a sign posted.

Me: It is right there. 

I point to a large sign that says the credit union will be closed all day in observance of Good Friday.

Lady: Wait! It has been closed ALL DAY?

Me: I have no idea.

As I leave, I hear her muttering "That is just STUPID." She then walks in the rain to her car, gets in and THEN proceeds to put on a plastic hair protector.  As she is tying it under her chin, another car pulls up and a woman gets out.  The old lady rolls down her window and yells:

"IT IS CLOSED. THE CREDIT UNION IS CLOSED AND HAS BEEN ALL DAY. DON'T BOTHER!"

She may have also muttered something about Good Friday.  New lady says "I'm just here for the ATM..."

Interesting.  So was I. It seems the only person that wasn't was the older lady. Is she against the ATM? Does she not know how they work? What is is that she needs done by a teller that she cannot do herself at an ATM?

Maybe the old lady should go to the fish place. She would feel right at home at a place that only does actual cash transactions and nothing with those "newfangled" ATM things. I can just picture her walking in, seeing the long line and exclaiming "Is there a LINE? WHY? What does Good Friday have to do with FISH? ...stupid..."

Happy Easter!

Would It Be Better If I Were Wearing a Coach Suit?

It has been rather stressful at the office these days.  I had a really ugly complicated case that resulted in my waking up one day with a huge knot in my back that I not so lovingly named after my opposing counsel.  Luckily that got resolved and the knot went away. I would also like to thank Excedrin Back and Body for coming to my aid.

It's just that things are super busy, which is good and bad. Good because more work equals job security and more fun. Bad because more work equals more work, less time and more scheduling conflicts.

I always know when the stress is getting to me because I will dream about the office, or usually court.  Last night I dreamt I was in federal court to help with a trial that I knew nothing about when the judge told me that I wasn't even wearing a suit. I looked down to find myself wearing a skirt and a jacket, certainly not a suit, but decided that I would defend myself by saying "Oh I see, if it is not a Coach suit, it doesn't count?" I don't even know what that means. Can you imagine a suit with the Coach insignia all over it? I shudder.

So it made me think of this post I drafted a while back about events I saw one motion day in court:

What Not To Say To the Judge If You Want to Win:

"All judges are liars"

"I cannot get a fair hearing here"

"I am suing three judges and the entire court system"

What You Don't Want to Hear the Judge Say If You Want to Win:

"The problem here is your client and her inconsistent testimony."

"What kind of attorney are you? The kind that just stands before me and spews garbage from his mouth?"

"What I want to know is who forged this Order?"

"Your opinion has no basis in fact."

"I have written many articles on this subject. In fact, there are a few cases you seemed to have left out of your brief."

Luckily these things were not said to me.  In fact, my opposing counsel felt the wrath that day when he tried to bluff me into a settlement only to be told by the judge that he and his client better agree to my terms or he was going to make him "try this" while shaking the file at him like it was the stupidest thing ever.  

That's my kind of day, even if they are few and far between.

The Cast of Characters May Change, But I Remain Insane

Have I ever told you how crazy the people in my office building are? Not the people I work with, although they have their days, but the people in the other office suites, in the lobby and in the parking lot?  It is enough to make me appear like this on any given day:

Here are some of the characters I deal with:

The Child Walking Around in an Adult Body While Waiting for the Elevator:

Man: Is that an attorney's office?
Me: Yes.
Man: Are you an attorney?
Me: Yes.
Man: Is HE an attorney?
Me: Yes.
Man: Is SHE an attorney?
Me: Yes.
Man: Did you go to law school?
Me: AHHHHHHHHH

The Mr. Obvious Stalker:

Man: Do the elevators typically take this long?
Me: Yes, when one is broken.
Man: One is broken?
Me: Yes. [pointing to Out of Order sign]
Man: So one is not working?
Me: AHHHHHHHHH

The Village Idiot Posing as a Salesman:

Man: I am looking for Danielle's office.
Me: I am Danielle.
Man: No.
Me: What?
Man: She is taller than you.
Me: I am sitting down?
Man: She has your hair.
Me: Does she have my glasses?
Man: Yes.
Me: I am her.
Man: No.
Me: AHHHHHHHHH

The Woman Who Should Have Had a Door Slam in Her Face:

Me: [opening door for lady with VERY full arms]
Lady: I don't need you to open the door.
Lady: I am not going that way.
[and then she followed me through the door]
Me: AHHHHHHHHH

This all happened in the span of one hour on one day.

I wish I were kidding.

The Back Bedroom Reveal...Well, Kinda, Since it is Not Really Done But Better Than Before?

Remember when I told you ages ago that I was going to reveal our back bedroom and what we had done with it and what we planned to do with it? Stretch your memory, folks. It was a while ago. So far, in fact, that I cannot even take the time this morning to go find the link.

But today, all will be revealed. Well, all that has been done at least. If B were here this morning instead of at work, he would be shouting "FINALLY!", so just pretend you hear that being shouted in the background as you read this.

The back bedroom, if you will recall, was bright blue with white stars painted on it and red shelves. Very patriotic. Perfect for Memorial Day and Fourth of July. However, since we plan to use the room more than twice a year, we decided an overhaul was in order.

So after careful thought, but unfortunately, no poll, we picked a color and B started painting:

Actually, it started looking even more patriotic after he started painting.

There is B...painting. Isn't he always painting when he ends up in photos?

Yes, sometimes I would have to iron in the midst of the painting. Luckily no clothing ended up with paint on it. This time.

When it was all finished, a beautiful room emerged:

That's a little dark.

I just love this color.

It looks kind of orange here, but it is not the same color of our dining room. This is a much darker red kind of color.

Like this.

So what are our plans for this room?

A walk-in closet!!

I am so excited! We have seen a few of these in different houses we have been in and although each bedroom has a closet, it is really not enough to hold our clothes. Well, mostly my clothes. Exhibit A:

All of my clothes aren't even in there! Some are in the boxes you see in the room. Some are in my dresser where I forget about them. I always wanted a big closet. That I can fill with beautiful things.

When is this going to happen?

It is last on the list. Just kidding. Remember when everything was the last thing on the list? Well, this won't be, but it might be a while.

I will keep you posted.

Crime Watch Wednesday: If You Don't Like That Document, I Have Some Others for You

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday brings us once again a tale of a drunk driver trying to pretend he is anything but drunk. I tell ya, I never can get enough of the drunk tales. Each so wasted. Each with such unique ways of showing it.

Police stopped a man they spotted weaving in the roadway. He smelled of alcohol and admitted to drinking. He then produced an expired registration. When told it was expired, he proceeded to look through all of his documents again and produced the same exact expired registration. He was arrested on the spot.

Now, what is really funny about this story to me is that I had the exact same thing happen to me in a deposition, except the deponent was not drunk. Well, at least I don't think she was. I asked her to produce a copy of the referral letter from the treating physician she received. She flipped through a bunch of papers and confidently handed me one. When I told her that was a copy of a prescription for medication, not a referral letter, she proceeded to again flip through the documents and, again, confidently hand me another one. This time it was a fax cover sheet. Addressed to the attorney sitting next to her.

This game went on for 15 minutes too long at which point she just stopped handing me documents, put the papers down and looked at me like "There. Aren't I a great witness, giving you everything you asked for." I never did get the referral letter.

She might be related to this guy.

My Nose Works Just Fine, Thank You Very Much!

The other day at the office a woman and I got on to the elevator at the same time. I noticed that she was carrying a take out box from the deli on the first floor. I knew that it was Mexican day at the deli and her food smelled good, so inquired as to what she had in her box stating "What do you have there? It smells so good!" Her reply?

"You can't smell my food."

Um, wait. What? Yes, I CAN smell your food. I DID smell your food. Now I am asking you about your food. So I reply:

"So, what do you have THERE?"

She says "Taco salad."

"Yeah, I CAN SMELL IT."

She says "Really?"

Um, what? Why is she finding it so hard to believe I can smell her food? Does taco meat not smell? Does she not want to tell me what she has? Is it a secret? Is she scared I am going to copy her and go get the same thing like I do to B so now he makes me order first? Did she think I was trying to pick her up with my sexy what-kind-of-food-you-got-there pick up line?

I was so perturbed I decided not to tell her that her food probably isn't going to smell so good coming out.*

*Damn greasy deli food that tastes good but isn't good and my stomach wishes for once my tastebuds would listen to it.

I'll Take Johnnie Cochran for $200, Alex

So the other day I was sitting in court waiting for my case to be called. As you can imagine, I thought I would be last and would be there a while. Although I was not called last, I still had time to listen to a few cases before me.

One of the cases involved an appeal in a criminal matter regarding a ruling on excluding evidence of the actual arrest. The accused's attorney was arguing that the officer did not have probable cause for the arrest as he arrested this man in his garage after he had already pulled in. The attorney went on to say that there were no exigent circumstances because, even if the officer had put on his lights to signal to pull over, he did so a mere 6 seconds before the guy was in his garage. This prompted the judge to immediately, without a second thought, quip:

However slight, it can still be flight.

He then laughed and said "I'm no Johnnie Cochran, but..." I would agree. He is no Johnnie Cochran because his quip actually made sense. After all, it was a legal summation on the state of the law rather than a creatively successful, albeit ridiculous, attempt to skew the facts to gain an acquittal.

I would like to think I would be a pretty humorous, off-the-cuff judge should I ever take the bench. Then again, everyone would have to laugh regardless if I was humorous wouldn't they?

Oh the power...

What Do Suicidal Jumpers, Train, Hobos, Hookers and Strip Joints All Have in Common?

These are all things I encountered on my ride home the one night. Not my usual trip, that's for sure.

Because of a suicidal jumper, the freeway was shut down for over 6 hours. Six hours up on a bridge. That man ain't a jumpin'. What did happen, however, was that my typical 45 minute drive turned into 2 hours.

For the first hour I traveled down a stretch of road spending most of it twittering since I wasn't moving at all. I also talked to my Mom. I then decided I needed another course of action and turned.

Thereafter I passed the area where the man was hanging off, or on, or around, a pedestrian bridge over the freeway. Know what I saw? An entirely different bridge full of gawkers. Um, nice. What do you want to see? A rescue? A jump?

I then traveled through a seedier part of town hoping for less traffic. Wrong. However, what I did find was:

1. 3 strip clubs
2. 2 hobos providing an explanation to the lady in front of me as to why traffic was so bad. Not sure why she decided to ask them. Their answer: "turn BACK" with arms flailing. It was a one way road.
3. 1 hooker/hitchhiker. She glared at me so I did not pick her up. If she had smiled, well...
4. 1 ridiculously long train into hour two

I mean, really, a TRAIN? It actually felt as if I was in some poorly written comedy where the heroine (that's me you know) is stopped at every angle from reaching her destination by whatever ridiculous means the lame ass writers can throw at her - potential suicide (check), freeway closure (check), crawling traffic (check), gawkers (check), hobos telling people to go in the wrong direction (check), hitchhikers (check)....um, what else? How about a train! Perfect.

Just perfect.

A Very Special Father's Day

One day, a while ago, B said to me "I am going to make a present for your father." Having been announced out of the blue, I was curious. And then he showed me this:

Terrible picture (we will blame B's camera), but it is a very old fire extinguisher. "Nice," I thought. My Dad was a firefighter. He likes fire things. Then B showed me this:

A lamp kit. I called B "creative" and "ambitious." When many months later it was still sitting there, I called B "tenacious" and "determined." At some point, when he told me he couldn't find the right drill bit to drill through the many layers of metal on top, I called him "nuts." And then when others told me that there may be extinguisher residue in there, I called him "brave."

Many months later and in perfect time for Father's Day, B found the right drill bit. Then B made this very beautiful lamp that did not ignite or explode after turning it on:

I take credit only for purchasing the shade, which was quite easy. B did all of the hard work. B informs me this is one of the old kind of extinguishers that needed to be held upside down in order to get the chemicals to react and extinguish the fire. Here is a close up of the printing on it:

And it still has the hose:

A view from the top:

Now how cool of a Father's Day present was this? My Dad appreciated it. Now I call B, once again, a "DIY hero." Not only has he done all of the renovations around the place, not only did he install a floor in the old place, and not only does he have an awesome work room, but now he has made a lamp. A very special lamp.

Just wait until you see what B is up to next...

Happy Father's Day to one and all and especially to my two Dads.

Just One More Deal...

Remember yesterday when I said I was so tired? It wasn't from working at the office or from working in the yard. It was from a long hard day of bargain hunting. Unplanned bargain hunting. How does this happen? It goes a little something like this:

Go out with your Mom and end up in a subdivision sale for three hours. Sometimes end up lost and unable to find the car. Buy:

That comes with bonus sand dollars:

and buy this lamp which was missing one jewel on the bottom:

Then decide you cannot garage sale one.more.minute. Declare garage sales the winners, whine and go home.

Show B what you bought. Have him immediately cause another jewel on the lamp to fall off (it can be fixed!), but marvel at how beautiful it looks in the office:

Whine to B about all of your hours of garage sales and bargin hunting and how you are DONE. B decides to go for a bike ride. Tells you to keep your phone nearby in case of a flat tire.

10 minutes later he calls and you are worried he is stranded somewhere. Instead he says:

B: Can you do some measuring?

Me: Measuring? Measuring of what?

B: The small dining room windows and the fireplace windows. I am at a garage sale and they have some wooden ones here really cheap.

You measure. You report. Then he says:

B: Come down and check them out.

B: And bring the measuring tape.

You tell your Mom via instant message that you will be back because you need to go to another garage sale. You both LOL.

So you go back to the car. You forget the measuring tape. You go back inside for it and then off you drive. It takes you a while to find B because he is on a street with 3,456 garage sales. You find him, look the blinds over, decide which ones are best, load them up and take off back home. You report to your mom what you bought and you LOL again.

Then the phone rings. It is B. When you answer he says:

B: What's up?

Me: Not much. What's up?

B: This guy at this other garage sale has a fertilizer spreader for $10 can you come down?

Me: Sigh.

B: Do you have $10?

You ask him if he will be there, recalling the difficulty of finding him last time. You instant message your mom. There are no LOLs this time. This time it is all "I have to go to another @%#^* garage sale!" You get back in the car and take off.

In the 5 minutes it takes you to arrive at your destination, you find that B has ingrained himself in with the garage sale family so much that when a woman asks about a bike, the garage sale guy says "you will have to ask B." When you realize he is talking about your B and by his name, you wonder if you have entered the Twilight Zone. You then realize that the lady wants to buy the bike that B has been using to find all of these "deals" for you to come pick up. So you say:

"How much will you pay for it?"

Here are the shutters which need to be dusted:

And another recent garage sale find (actually a church sale) which also look great on the window sill in the office:

B thinks this was the perfect set up - he would find bargains and I would come get them and pay for them. I think B needs to stop drinking...

A Three Hour Tour a/k/a These Old Houses... Part 1

Every year, a neighborhood in a big city by us has a walking tour of the homes. B and I try to go every year because the homes are phenomenal. They are old, like our house, but three and four times the size. Plus, you get to go in and see all of the features, the remodeling, and hear the stories of past owners and how much it cost to build the house originally (usually between $10,000 and $15,000).

Typically, it is HOT when we do this. One year I thought I was going to die. In fact, my memory of that tour involved me crying out inside my head every two minutes I AM GOING TO DIE while sweat dripped all over me. Sexy.

This year, however, the weather was perfect. It was sunny with a breeze. Perfect walking weather.

Take a walk with me and see what we saw.

A view of the street and those huge gorgeous trees. Also a view of a line to get into one of the houses. The good houses always have long lines:

Some houses from across the street:

A picture of B acting exasperated at my picture taking:

Beautiful dark red plum looking tree. This photo courtesy of B:

This house was owned by Jack White of the White Stripes. Apparently they recorded one of their albums in the foyer. Yes, it is that big. The latest owner renovated and changed a lot of stuff that Jack had done to the place. They had before pictures throughout the house showing what it looked like when Jack White was in it. Most of the rooms looked better after, however, B thought the study looked better before. Jack White liked a lot of reds and whites (no surprise) and dark rooms. B likes dark rooms too. I prefer light and airy.

I don't think any one in that line knows the house used to be owned by Jack White. We sure didn't. It was not listed in the book.

Below is a house not open on the tour. They rotate houses year to year. Sometimes the same ones are on the tour; other times they are different. Some houses that are not open still have signs in front of them telling you famous owners of the home and some history.

Look at those columns:

This house even had singing boys and a man with a cello. I think. I am so not musical. Then again B thought they sounded like they were screaming.

The VERY long line we were standing in:

We are getting closer. Also, notice the woman on the stool. Can you even see the stool? I think it was getting closer too:

B and I liked this tree. We both took a picture of it:

Tours are fun. Tours are also annoying. Just like in school, there are always some people who want to show off. In our case, it was a 90 year old man who must have read up on the history. That is fine. It was fine when he informed his companions all about the house we were waiting in line to see. No big deal. You know what was NOT fine? This:

Docent: This house was owned by the same man that founded the zoo.

Old Man: Contrary to popular belief, you are right.

Okay, I have no idea what he just said. Did he mean we all didn't believe she was right? Did he mean we all didn't believe the zoo man owned the house?

Old Man: The man that founded the zoo owned this house.

Hi redundant. We covered that, remember?

Docent: [Pause]

Docent: In 1918...

Without missing a beat, God bless her.

Then we went inside. Once inside, the next docent started talking about the pewabic tile around the fireplace and how the blue glazed tile was a secret recipe that was lost over the years and cannot be replicated.

Old Man: That's not true!

Docent: Oh? You have the recipe?

Old Man: No, but I can tell you where it is hidden.

At that point, I turned to B and said "You have GOT to be kidding me!" followed by "We have got to get the hell out of here before I kill this man!" And we did. Thankfully, no one else was quite as disturbing on the rest of the tour, except for maybe the twins...

*to be continued with pictures on Thursday!

Spare Parts? I Have a Few

I recently had my gallbladder removed. As recent as Tuesday. Apparently you can live without your gallbladder. You know what is hard to live with? A barely functioning gallbladder. Makes you feel like shit, sometimes literally. So that bugger had to go. Three small cuts later and a big LASER*, and I am gallbladder free.

While I was in the hospital being prepared for this planned surgery, it reminded me of the last time I had some parts removed, namely my appendix. Apparently you do not need that either. In fact, it is so unnecessary the doctor could not even tell me its function. Apparently my appendix's function was to fail. Miserably.

Unlike my current surgery, the appendix was much more emergent. It all started with an attack that I did not recognize until much later that left me in such excruciating pain that I had to have my dad come get me to drive me to the doctor. By the time we got to his office, the pain was gone and all was well. Luckily the next attack waited about 6 months or this surgery would have been performed in the Dominican Republic and more like something from Turistas than something involving a LASER.

The night of my unbeknownst-to-me-surgery, I went to bed feeling fine. Within an hour I felt like crap and it just continued to get worse. Nothing I did made it better. Not trips to the toilet, cool wet rags, lying perfectly still. Of course it took me about 5 hours to realize that the sickness and pain were actually getting worse and were concentrated to the center of my stomach. So, of course, I got up and checked WebMd. Sure enough, sounded like my appendix. I decided it was ER time. In my pain riddled and delusional state, I decided I was going to drive myself. So I woke up B:

Me: Hey, I have to go to the hospital. I will be back later.

B: What?

Me: I am in a lot of pain and it is getting worse. I need to get to the hospital.

B: Do you want me to drive you?

Me: I don't care. I just have to go.

B: Give me 5 minutes.

By the time the 5 minutes were up (and it actually could have been less), I was lying on the living room floor in a ball. Yeah, I wasn't driving anywhere. Off we went to the hospital.

Here is what you need to know from there:

• We arrived at 4 am. They did not diagnose me until 4 pm. 12 hours later.
• They gave me stupid tests like a gyno exam
• They then lost my tests
• I threw up around 11 and felt 100% better and figured there was nothing wrong with me
• They didn't go get B from the lobby until around noon
• B had to rifle through my purse to find money for cookies to eat
• I ate nothing
• They did not give me one sip of water during that time (actually worked out well considering surgery).
• I had just sent B off to work when the doctor told me I needed surgery.
• I interrupted the doctor to call B back to the hospital. The doctor did not like that
• After being diagnosed at 4 pm, I did not go into surgery until 8 pm.

The appendix came out without a hitch and within a week I was feeling good. Probably in large part due to Mooch's nursing which involved laying directly on my stomach where the stitches were for three days straight. On day four he left, so I figured I was better.

Other things B and I learned in the hospital:

• the whole seen in 30 minute rule - yeah, INITIALLY seen. After that it could be hours
• doctors do really say things like "I have some good news and some bad news"
• in my case the good news was "we found your tests!" (too bad you didn't tell me you lost them) and the bad news was "we have to remove your appendix"
• having a catheter inserted is uncomfortable
• however it is not excruciatingly painful as the girl next to me made it out to be. Not sure how she planned on birthing that baby she was carrying if she could not handle a catheter
• some people believe that having an ultrasound is so that the baby "floats so you can see it better"
• some people will wait 3 days before coming to the ER with ALL signs of a heart attack and prior heart issues because their doctor said to "ask for him and he wasn't here"
• some people will wait until both of their feet are swollen three times their size, purple and falling off before telling the ER there might be a problem

Ahhh...memories. This is also the story I pull out against B every now and then "remember the time you didn't think I needed to go to the hospital?" Because he totally didn't believe that I needed to go and my whole feeling better later did nothing to dissuade him from that belief.

Despite his belief that I may not have needed to go to the hospital, he did take me. That is what you do when you are in love.

Or at least when one of you is curled up on the ball moaning.

*I dont know if a laser is actually involved, but I like to think that it is and say it like Austin Powers LASER. B loves it. Just ask him.

And Now a Word From My Sponsor...

No, not my AAA sponsor silly. My life sponsor a/k/a my Mom. Here is an email that she sent to me three years ago for my "special" day. Enjoy!

HAPPY DAY BEFORE YOUR BIRTHDAY!!

Many, Many, Many years ago on this day, I had gone to the beauty shop (used to be able to afford it, before I had kids ) and then went to the bathroom .... I knew then that my oven was done baking, but at least my hair would look good. Well, let me tell you....when you decided to break open the shell, my hairdo was the last thing on my mind. It had been in a updo, you know, ratted and lots of bobbie pins, well the pins went flying and I was a big tangled mess. I am sure I looked like someone on LSD that had put her finger in a socket.

And the hours kept going by and you kept trying to hatch. Believe me - that is when you decide you will NEVER have SEX again...No..No..No!

And did you know that minutes are really hours? Yup, it's true ! And to top it off , the damn hospital room had a big round clock on the wall in FRONT of me ....Believe me, the old saying "Time flies by" is sooo not TRUE when you are in labor ..No..No..No..

And of course the Man you love is by your side...but He has a damn radio stuck to his ear listening to a Tiger Baseball Game. I mean - gee, sorry it's taking so long and you can't watch it on T.V...That's when you REALLY decide that you will NEVER have sex again, well...at least not with HIM!

And then...out pops a beautiful little person, screaming and crying like I had a lot of nerve bothering her.

And then they clean her up and calm her down and bring her over to you and you hold her and a feeling of Love you can't describe comes over you.

And then in a little while, you think...Oh My God, I'm a Mother! I don't know how to be a Mother! What am I going to do, I have to take care of her for the rest of my life, what if I am a bad Mother, blah, blah, blah........... and then you really want YOUR Mother, cause SHE knows what she's doing.

But in the end, you figure it out, good days, bad days, mistakes, etc. And in the end you figure out you must have done some things right, cause you sure have one terrific Daughter who you are so proud of, you could burst.

And I thank God everyday for you, any pain would have been worth it.

(although...some of your teen years were another pain in the Dupa )

But I am so blessed, I have a wonderful Daughter (and a wonderful son) ...what more could I ask out of life, I have it all....

I love ya Punkin

Mom

( I won't spoil this beautiful letter by telling you that your Dear Dad is still a Butthead. He took me to Walgreens, need I say more?)

*my favorite part is a toss between my Dad listening to the game while my Mom was in labor and that very last line. Love ya Mom! xoxo

Happy Easter from the Cookie Monster

The Easter Bunny did not stop at the new house, sadly. However, I am sure that is because she was tired from the birthday scavenger hunt and anniversary celebrations to even begin to think about being creative. There is only so much creativity one bunny can handle.

But, if it Easter you want, it is Easter you will get as I will gladly refer you over to my sister-in-law's blog to get your Easter fill:

Do you want to see a baby tortured by a scary Easter bunny? Go here.

Do you want to see the same baby have no qualms about posing with a real bunny? Go here.

Do you want to see pictures from an Easter egg hunt we had last week? Go here.

Do you want to see a grown man imitating the Easter bunny? Go here.

And if you want to know what I am doing - just take a look at what I plan on ingesting today:

YUM to the Robin Eggs!!

And of course these delightful Girl Scout Cookies that I have been saving for the long 40 days of Lent.

Lent is over bitches...err...bunnies... and I have score to settle with all candy and cookies. Me and my stomach ache will see you tomorrow!

Happy Easter!