I Can't Sew, But I Can Hot Glue Like Crazy!

Posting is a bit light tonight because I'm working on Halloween costumes. In honor of that, I'm going to post some from years past, some mine and some my children's. Although in recent years we have reverted to store bought costumes, I have made costumes in the past and I think I am excellent at coming up with solutions or ways to make costumes better.

For instance, last year Bubba wanted ninja boots to go with his costume. Well, I don't think they sell ninja boots at Target, so I bought a pair of black socks a couple of sizes too big, put them on over his sneakers and voila! Ninja boots.

Tomorrow Bubba has to dress as his favorite book character for school. He's dressing as an archaeologist from his favorite Goosebumps book. At dinner the other night when we were talking about his costume, he said "Mommy, what I have I discovered?"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand the question, Bubba."

"If I'm an archaeologist, what will I take to school that I've discovered?"

Ahhhh. Good question. I racked and racked my brains trying to come up with something. And finally I thought of Bubba's King Tut doll. Behold my solution:


Bubba has discovered King Tut's mummy!

Here are some photos of me and Mr. Daddy at Halloween. Years ago. When we were cool. When we had a life.


And a couple of Bubba. I've posted the Elvis ones before, but I'm gonna do it again,


And his train costume from the following year:


And one final question, after telling me for weeks that she wants to be Cinderella, upon finding out that another little girl at school is going to be Cinderella, Punkin has now decided she wants to be Belle. Mr. Daddy suggested that she be Cinderbella, but that didn't go over very well. Should I make her be Cinderella? Or should I go out and try to find a Belle costume? And how much of a sucker would I be if I did?

Do I O-Fend?

Now for the mystery I mentioned. But first a little back story.

Mr. Daddy recently discovered Facebook. I have, thus far, avoided Facebook's siren call. For one thing, I don't need any more timesucks. But Mr. Daddy has had a grand old time looking up long lost and not-so-long lost friends.

One of the not-so-long lost was a couple that we were very good friends with when we lived in Savannah, Jimmy and Sarah*. Jimmy was one of Mr. Daddy's regular customers when he managed the Starbucks and they really hit it off. They weren't from Savannah either and were having some of the same problems that we were having meeting people our age.

And as it turns out, their son was born about three months before Bubba was born, so we had a lot in common. We hung out together all the time, taking turns cooking for each other. They were really, really good friends.

When we moved we kept in touch pretty regularly at first and every time we'd go to Savannah we'd stop by to say hi. But, life gets in the way and we didn't get to Savannah very often and we kind of lost touch. But then in May of 2006, they called to say they were going to be in a nearby city, so we met for lunch and it was like no time had passed. It was the same easy camaraderie we've always had.

So, about a week and a half ago, Mr. Daddy sent a note to Sarah on her Facebook page that we were going to be in Savannah soon and last Sunday? (or Monday, not sure -- whenever the Rays played the Red Sox last), Jimmy called.

It was great to talk to him and he was thrilled that we were going to be in town. When Mr. Daddy suggested that we meet somewhere for lunch on Sunday before we headed home, Jimmy insisted that we come to their house, that they would cook for us. It was going to be great. We could hang out and talk, the kids could play. We were really looking forward to it.

So, on Saturday when we got to Savannah, Mr. Daddy called Jimmy's cell. No answer, so he left a message. No biggie. But no return phone call from Jimmy either.

On Sunday we got up and went to our old church and when church let out, we called Jimmy again. See, we didn't even know where they lived because they'd moved since we last saw them. We called both of their cell phones AND their home phone. Nothing. We headed out to Wilmington Island where they live, thinking that they'd call us while we were in route.

Nothing. We called again. All three phones. Nothing.

So, we headed home. It was really weird and totally not like Jimmy and Sarah and Mr. Daddy and I couldn't decide whether to be worried or offended. So, on Monday he sent Jimmy a text message asking if he was okay, if everything was alright, what was up. He immediately got a text back saying "I don't recognize this number. Who is this?" Mr. Daddy texted back and then nothing. No other response.

And still nothing. We've heard nothing from Jimmy or Sarah. Mr. Daddy checked Jimmy's Facebook page and it said he was in Rio de Janeiro on the 23rd (he travels a lot for work and Jimmy and Sarah are both from South America), so perhaps they're still there? Or maybe they got confused and think that we're coming THIS weekend?

We just don't know what happened. And it's a mystery

*not their real names.

The Thumper Rule

Have you ever known someone who loves to give bad news? I've known a couple, and there's one at Punkin's school right now. Unfortunately, she happens to be Punkin's afternoon teacher. Don't get me wrong, I really like this teacher a lot. She's sweet, funny. And she laughs at my jokes like nobody's business.

But lately it seems that she loves to point out all of Punkin's transgressions to me. It doesn't happen on a daily basis, but at least weekly she'll give me a report of something bad that Punkin has done during the day. Now when Punkin was biting her friends, I definitely wanted to know about that, but she doesn't bite anymore. Lately, Punkin's transgressions are, well, barely transgressions, in my opinion.

When Punkin was biting, I'd make a point to mention it to Punkin in front of her teacher and we'd talk about why it was bad. But Punkin would get really upset when I'd get mad at her, and I hated for that to be the way I greeted her every afternoon. I'd much rather see her grinning from ear to ear and running down the hall yelling "Mommmmmmy!" So, I started waiting to talk to her until after we got in the car, when I really had her attention.

Yet, I still get these reports. Now I know my child is not perfect. Good Lord do I know. But don't you think they could handle these things? Or at least tell me about something great she's done every now and then? I mean, that's what I pay them an arm and a leg for, right?

Here are some pictures from our trip.

This is Bubba and Punkin with our friends, Matt and Erica. Their sweet, sweet baby was already in bed so she's not in the photo:


And here's a family picture in front of the fountain in Lafayette Square:



Tune in tomorrow for a mystery!!

Road Trip! Road Trip! Road Trip!

Off to Savannah. Catch you on the flipside....

In the Weeds

I know a lot of people find that hearing about other people's dreams is boring to the extreme, but I always find them kind of fascinating. I used to be a very vivid dreamer and could often remember my dreams and could usually tie my dream into something that was going on in real life.

Last night I dreamed that I was waiting tables and very quickly I got "in the weeds." For those of you unfamiliar with that term, it means that as a server you are getting very far behind in waiting on your tables and you can't catch up. If, again, you are unfamiliar with this term, I wouldn't wish this condition on my worst enemy. There are few things more frustrating than trying to wait on three or four tables at once and not being able to get caught up. Usually you get in the weeds when too many tables are sat at once, or a customer's request throws off your routine. It can be a harrowing experience, particularly if you get very far behind and your customers start to get pissed off.

In my dream last night I couldn't find the water glasses and I had two tables that were sat at once. One table's food came out before I could even get drinks to their table and they had been seated AFTER the table who's order I hadn't even taken yet. I put in one man's bar order and realized about a half hour later that I had never delivered it to him. I finally woke up, relieved that it wasn't real and prayed that when I went back to sleep that I wouldn't slip right back into the dream.

This morning when I was recounting the dream to Mr. Daddy he reminded me of something he heard Mitch Hedberg say on the XM radio comedy station just yesterday (and if you've never heard of Mitch Hedberg, go check him out on You Tube -- especially the routine about escalators. He's hilarious. He is also, unfortunately, deceased.) Anyway, in this routine Mitch said "You know, I prefer sleeping to dreaming. Dreaming is too much work. One minute I'm sleeping and the next minute I'm building a go-kart with my ex-landlord."

I hear ya, Mitch. I woke up exhausted. Exhausted but thankful that I never have to wait tables again.

Don't Go Too Fast

Some of you might remember that when I turned 15, I got The Bobcat. And while I was initially dismayed at its Pinto-like appearance, I actually got a little excited when I realized that I was going to get to drive it that very day.

There was only one tiny hitch. It had a manual transmission and not only did I not know how to drive a stick, I didn't really know how to drive ANYTHING.

So we headed out to the country, which is where every self-respecting southerner learns to drive. The back roads. On the way, my dad and I stopped to pick up my grandfather, who gamely climbed into the backseat while I climbed behind the wheel.

My dad is, to put it kindly, a control freak. He is a little bit of a yeller. When he gets excited or stressed it's like he can't really help himself. He just automatically switches to yell mode. And maybe I'm that way a little bit too. But honestly, I don't really remember him yelling that day, though I'm sure one of us probably did some yelling.

What I remember most is my grandfather keeping up a running admonishment from the backseat, "Now, don't go too fast. Slow down. Slow down. When you start going too fast, that's when you start to get in trouble." I was going maybe 35 mph. And not smoothly. There was a lot of jerking and stalling as I tried to find the gears. I'm not sure I ever went over 40 mph, but sitting in the back seat with no access to the brakes, real or imaginary, probably made Pa Pa feel very vulnerable and I guess he couldn't help himself.

But I often find his words coming back to me. Slow down. Slow down. When you start going too fast, that's when you get into trouble. Sometimes life goes too fast and we need to slow down. I do, anyway. So that's my goal for the coming holiday season. To slow down. And enjoy it.

Love is in the Air!

Over the weekend, I was simultaneously tagged for a meme and given a blog award by two different people, Colleen over at Wine Please and Calicobebop. They both tagged me for the "I <3 Your Blog" meme/award and I was so pleased. I feel like the content around here has been a little lacking as of late, so the validation was nice. And I <3 you too, ladies! And a nice bonus, the meme gives me something to write about. So, here we go. The rules are there are no rules. No, just kidding, there's always rules.

The rules are to answer the following questions in one word and then pass it on to seven others:

Where is your cell phone? car
Where is your significant other? sofa
Your hair color? brown
Your mother? awesome
Your father? bossy
Your favorite thing? books
Your dream last night? non-existent
Your dream/goal? holding
The room you’re in? bedroom
Your hobby? blogging
Your fear? failure
Where do you want to be in 6 years? home
Where were you last night? sofa
What you’re not? hungry
One of your wish-list items? travel
Where you grew up? Elberton
The last thing you did? stories
What are you wearing? comfies
Your TV? On
Your pet? wandering
Your computer? ancient
Your mood? fretful
Missing someone? no
Your car? Jeep
Something you’re not wearing? shoes
Favorite store? Target
Your summer? hot
Love someone? family
Your favorite color? yellow
When is the last time you laughed? tonight
Last time you cried? hmmm....

And in keeping with the rules (because I am, if nothing else, a rule follower) I hereby tag these blogs that I love: FADKOG, Anglophile Football Fanatic, Diary of a Modern Matriarch, Stay at Home Mom Going Quickly Insane, and At Home With Me. I know I'm supposed to do seven, but I just tagged a bunch of y'all, so I don't want to y'all to dread seeing me on your blogs.

I have to share with you the conversation that made me laugh tonight. We had chicken for supper tonight and inside the leg, next to the bone, was a small blood vessel that bled just a little when the children took a bite. Fortunately, both kids were fascinated and not disgusted as I fully expected.

Bubba made some kind of remark about not eating it and Mr. Daddy said "I'm going to eat it. I love it! Because I'm a chicken vampire! I want to cluck your blood!"

That man is such a goof. But that's why I love him.