Cannon, We Love You

Remember our paint-eating nibbler friend Cannon? He moved away this summer, but we miss him. Several months ago he told his mom he was going to marry Lexie and Mara, another little girl we go to church with and that she needed to buy him a wedding suit. Which sort of doesn’t help the Mormons-aren’t-polygamists-and-aren’t-the-same-as-the-FLDS-um-weirdies image we try to maintain, but I digress.
Cannon is five. His mom told him that after he goes on a mission, she’ll buy him a wedding suit, to which he insisted she needed to buy him one right then. Apparently Cannon doesn’t want anyone taking his women.

Just the other day, Lexie mentioned doing something or other when she grows up and marries Cannon.

Which brings us to tonight.

I was shopping with Lexie at Target, trying to find a birthday present for her friend. Of course she wanted several things for herself that I wouldn’t buy for her.
On the way home, the conversation went something like this:
She told me, “When I’m big, I can shop all by myself and buy whatever I want.”
“Yes you can, if you have enough money.” (Begin the anti-credit card campaign now.)
“I’ll probably have more money than you.”
“Yeah, but you’ll have to work hard to earn lots of money.”
“Well, Cannon will work when he grows up.”
Her priorities are in order. And she has big plans. Which will include a lot of money and doing whatever she wants. I hope Cannon can keep her in order.

Cannon, I think everyone Lexie misses you. The new neighbors' poodles are great, but they're not the same as playing with you and your sister. Poodles aren't into treasure hunts and sneaking out of their house at 10 at night to walk over and see if she can play.

Digging for treasure last April.

Which apparently even blind people can do too. Can't miss the hole with that shovel.

Why does her mom put her in suck dorky shorts?

Happy Thanksgiving everyone--I'll be five pounds heavier after tomorrow's record-breaking consumption of pie.

I am thankful for pie.

Archaic Underwear and Racous Co-pays

It has been requested from several (3) sources that I post more. I will work on that. I will not feel stressed...I will not feel the pressure...I will not feel stressed.

So over myself.

And nearly over the strep that my laryngitis turned out to be. Just my luck, my positive result came back the day after I'd hung out at the pediatrician's with Mr Destructo until 1 in the AM for his Anne with an "e" Green Gables disease, so I couldn't make them swab him on that co-pay.

No.

I blew $60 instead.

I decided yesterday in the late afternoon to call in and have all three monsters taken in for strep tests when their father could accompany me and assist in the hold downs.

Results still pending.

The nurse swabbed their decks so fast that they all gagged, but didn't freak out. I liked her for that. But, she lied to them and told them she'd tickle the back of their throats. I didn't like that. I try to be honest with my kids about what they're getting into with doctor and sickness stuff, like how nasty their medicine is really going to taste, or how long their shots will really hurt, you know, so they trust me.

Anyhoo--so after Lexie got swabbed, she turned to me and said in an undervoice (yes, it's possible), "That didn't tickle, it choked," and grinned. I love her.

The husband just loved the triple co-pay. (Ultimate sarcasm there. In case you missed the emphasis, says Captain Obvious.)

I told him we'd save money not having more kids.

I want a new sofa instead.

I love brand-new furniture.

And don't have any. Or never have had.

And never will, cuz I can't put it on my Flex card.

Have I ever mentioned (more than the usual 27 times) how almost everything in our home is handed-down, in some cases, through generations (of dogs and children, not nice, clean, non-spilling, and odor-free little grandmas)? And that the only things we bought new have come from the lucrative furniture distributors of ...... ...

Shop-ko

Kmart

and

Wal-Mart?

We did buy these babies from Lowe's.

(Now imagine Arthur Spooner on King of Queens suddenly shouting) We're moving up! I don't think he ever actually had a line like that, but if you've watched the re-runs regularly (and think it wouldn't hurt for Doug to be just a touch active), you'll catch my used-furniture-odorized drift.

Ooh, I have so many projects that I've tried taking pictures of because I am a before-and-after fiend and have to share everything, but bet I'll only get to 13% of what's in my brain to actually blog about. If you made any sense of that sentence, let me know. Because I didn't. Anyway, like tonight, I helped co-pay-hating husband assemble our massive composter (but didn't take pictures) (there's only so much people are interested in, friends) that I hope I don't regret buying instead of the smaller one with wheels that I could drag around to my three flowerbeds to make beautiful. Correction: my two flowerbeds and the weed patch where I was trying to grow roses, but only one is still living and My Destructo has pulled out another for the second ding dang time.

Mom, when is it too late to plant bulbs because I'm thinking the closer I get to when the ground's frozen, the better since then Mr Destructo can't dig, and hence, pull them out.

The best was the first time he pulled out the rose bush and brought it to me. Uh, hello? Son? You're supposed to hide the evidence. And usually yourself too. In a different place. But don't do that too thoroughly or we'll think you've taken another solo trip to the park and the neighbors will call DCFS on us. Again. And then I'll have to ask my parental figure who works for them and controls their budgets to give our caseworker a lot of money. (Just kidding, we've never been called in, but my parental figure really works there. So you know. If you get a bee in your bonnet about how we're raising our kids.)

Um, not to come to a sickening, screeching halt, but the well just ran dry.

Should I still fold the laundry?

Or give the husband a reason to grumble at me in the morning?

(Disclaimer: No husband-bashing intended before anyone starts thinking that.)

He doesn't understand (or much like) my laundry-folding methods that might get more successful results if I liked to iron as much as I like leaving loads of laundry in the basket, and on the couch, and our bed, and in the dryer (duh, all at the same time) for days. Come on, there's a bigger sense of accomplishment from finding clean underwear archaeologist style!

Here's what used to crank out the laundry in archaic style. Or rather, it would have been faster and the clothes cleaner if I had used a hand-crank. I tell you.

Apparently the well still trickled.

Oh, I forgot! I have more Bad Housekeepings, too, never fear, in the well that apparently doesn't runneth fry. I mean dry. I might actually take pictures of my own personal examples, too. Because I have no dignity. And you can't smell through the computer. That will be the day.

We Don't Like Mice Anyway...Sort Of

I just read in the paper that they're raising prices at Disney resorts.
Current rates:
Orlando: Adults $75, Children $63. Sorry Amy, we can't come see you play Belle, depantsing Beast with song. We like food too much.
Anaheim: Adults $69, Children $59.
Well kids, it's either Disneyland, or the swing set.

Your choice.

Please someone, how do you spell depantsing? It looks so wrong, in so many ways.

Busy Bees

Well, I've not posted in a while because we are finally enjoying nice weather in a consistent manner. We've actually gone somewhere around three weeks without snow. Unbelievable. So, we are outside. I even changed our answering machine message to inform people we have moved. We now live, duh, outside. It's easier for me to plant flowers and dig up dirt than to clean the bathroom or fold laundry, so those too will be further neglected. Did I not mention my posts might get further and farther between? As if they're not infrequent enough. I just like to pour my heart and soul and any wit I can scrounge up into my posts and am left exhausted afterward, so I only like to post when I am sure it will be worth it for both parties.

Okay, so I've been out planting flowers and one day a big, yellow, loud bee would not stay away and kept hovering around my head. Yes, I admit my hair looked moderately good after a very long dry spell of looking haggish (due to a long dry spell of having no decent hair products--I ran out), but I didn't know bees were so attracted to a good hairdo. I think it liked the smell, thanks to Paul Mitchell's Super Skinny Serum, which I highly recommend. It is the reason my hair looked at all good. I highly recommend it. Again, apparently. My third grade teacher would be so disgusted at my repetitiveness. Anyway, use this serum to attract bees and butterflies, and maybe even birds, to help pollinate your flowers. And yes, I continued to plant nonchalantly with a big mean bee buzzing around my head. I hardly dared to swat at it and risk it's displeasure. I need say no more, even though I haven't been stung by a bee in so long, I don't even remember what I feels like. Knock on wood...I had to go knock on the piano because I forgot that my computer desk (disaster) is made entirely out of fake Kmart-special wood. We are so classy at the Shiner Circus. Circussly elegant.




Oh yeah, I've also been outside working on this--not in the dirt:



And I did come inside a lot to debate with myself (because the hub-cap doesn't care much about it) over the color to paint it. After four trips to the paint store, and two sample bottles later, I think I've finally come to a decision. Even my semi-indecisive mother told me I'm crazy. Maybe because I had finally settled on a color, only to look at it hanging on my wall for a few days only to decide it wasn't quite right.

Imagine me planning my wedding. I kind of knew what I wanted, when it presented itself, but I knew for darn sure what I didn't want. Yes, things went so smoothly and my mother was not exasperated with me. No, I did not "toss" a pair of open scissors in her general direction when we were disputing how long to cut flowers for centerpieces the night before the main event. Lets not go there. It was my wedding. Okay, we're not going there.

Anyhow, if you're waiting in eager anticipation for the result of the dresser--because I know I am--I'll show pictures later. I've only stripped, sanded (with aqua green boogers as a result), and primed it so far. Only.

Tonight I left Mr Destucto in bed with a book and the light on because her was NOT sleepy, though his siblings were out cold. Why IS that? Here is what we found. The beginning of the end, I'd say. It's not long before we find him in there with flashlights.

Isn't he sweet? And guess what picture he was sleeping on--

Not a hard guess for some. Like my sister-in-law, who I foresee long discussions with over the best place to buy trains for the best prices. She would know. Mr Destructo is only following in her Sweet Boy's footsteps. Can you imagine them as old men cousins yammering about trains together while their teeth fall out and they drool on the tracks? Okay, maybe not. I just wanted to ensure you had plenty of visuals to mull over for the rest of the day. Don't forget about the aqua-green snot.

Another oh yeah--we finally watched Dan in Real Life. FUNN-Y. If you haven't seen this, which I doubt, because we are the last people in middle-class America to see anything, go and watch it immediately. Like, I mean now.