When we got together with my family for Mother's Day, the topic of bros icing bros came up. We all had a good laugh over the concept. Then when we went to Ohio, the topic came up again a few more times. Even so, when we walked into my parents' house this past weekend and my sweet, little mom immediately held a room-temperature raspberry-flavored Smirnoff Ice in front of Pat, it was shocking. Pat didn't skip a beat, though. He nodded, popped open the top, went down on one knee, and pounded it before I could say, "Wait, let me take one more picture where you're not backlit!"
Unlike a lot of icings I've seen online, there was no ballyhooing. Pat is a really good sport. If you know Pat, then you know this is true. Pat is as cool as, well, Coolio. Nay, he's cooler.
Frankly, I think he enjoyed it.
Don't mind the fact that there is a 4 year old in this shot. (Don't worry, we told her it was "daddy's medicine," so it's okay.)
And since this blog has taken a rather unclassy turn, I'll go ahead and post a recent picture I took of moldy fruit. You heard me. We keep a container on the counter for stuff that we collect that needs to go to the compost bin. It's sort of like purgatory for produce. Anyway, I put some past-their-prime raspberries in there, and the next day I opened it up and found a bunch of bearded raspberries. I thought they were very pretty. Here is Sir Admiral of Berryton.
I sent the above picture in to Fail Blog, one of my favorite websites, and it made it on to their voting page. Please head over there and vote for this image (on the thumbs up icon, silly) to help me fulfill my dreams of having my photograph on their front page. You might need to click through a page or two to find it. I will personally mail you an "I voted" sticker if you do.
On the way home from day care, in Rochester's version of rush-hour traffic, Greta said, "These cars are all over the place. They're doing too much! Are they giving you a hard time, momma?" "No, it's okay, sweetie," I said. She replied, "Oh man, these cars are all driving on me. You are gonna have to buy a new Greta."
Maybe you had to be there?
In guilty pleasure news, the Bad Girls' Club season 3 premiere starts in 15 minutes. Woot!
Wow, at the risk of sounding like I’m bragging, I am so happy about all of the nice birthday wishes I got yesterday, including comments on the blog, e-mails, Facebook messages, and phone calls. Oh wait, I didn’t get any phone calls, but that’s perfect because I kind of hate using the phone. (Although I suck it up to talk to some friends and family I don’t otherwise talk to / see enough.) Anyway, I would say that I got more happy birthday wishes this year than the last 3 or 4 years combined. Have I been a better friend this year? Did my sad story about not wanting to celebrate my birthday create enough pathos to make people pity me? I don’t know, but I liked it!
Another fun part about my birthday was my family is awesome, and Greta sang Happy Birthday to me at least a dozen times. Pat took care of dinner and even knew to get Cheesy Eddie’s carrot cake for dessert. Yay for observant husbands!
Um, I can’t believe we get to vote next week. I wish we could just do it now, now, now. First of all, I just want to see if we can breath a sign of relief or if we can expect at least 4 years with Grampy McSame. (I stole that nickname from someone else; I wish I were that clever.) Plus, I am SO SICK of watching political commercials, and I barely watch any TV. Don’t make me get DVR, people!
Random: I saw this story today and I kind of loved it. Merriman Street is very close to where we live. I love that I could throw a stone and hit at least one of the moldy mattresses. If I remember, I’ll go get a decent picture of the pile before it gets hauled away tomorrow. The photo in the article by no means does this mountain of disease-riddled mattresses justice.
Update: I don't know why I'm obsessed with these mattresses, but I did indeed stop by the eyesore this morning and got a shot before they were all trucked off to a landfill. Behold! (Not the best shot ever, but it was dark and I was far away and using a point-and-shoot camera.)
What else? I'm sick. For the third time this season, and IT'S ONLY OCTOBER. What is wrong with me? I wash my hands like a borderline fanatic, and I haven't, say, been hanging out at a clinic somewhere. I am really perplexed by the whole thing. That is all.
One last thing that seems to be on the minds of friends of mine who have done NaBloPoMo before is that it’s almost that time of year again. I regret to say that I think it’s going to be NoBloPoMo for me this year. I am really conflicted about it, but with working full time, having a captivating and time-consuming toddler, and being in a class that takes up a good 6-9 hours a week pretty much has me at max capacity. I feel like if I did it I would have to half-ass it, and then what is the point? But I get a little sad when I think about not doing it...I dunno, just thought it seemed worth mentioning.
Speaking of class, I have a test tomorrow on the cardiovascular, immune, and lymphatic systems and blood that may or may not make me cry. Gots to study!
Greta has been saying some pretty funny things lately. I have been meaning to document them, but I can't ever seem to remember what they are when it's "go time," and I also don't know how well they'll translate in the old blogeroo. I'll see what I can do.
"That house is drippin' on that house." (It was raining so hard the other night the rain was pouring out of the neighbor's gutter and into the lower gutter/roof.)
"I love my blue eyes soooo much." (I gotta give it to the girl, she has great eyes, and I'm glad she appreciates them.)
To preface, we had carpooled the other day and I ended up having to work a little late (d'oh!), so we had an impromptu Wendy's dinner. After her first bite of cheeseburger, Greta said, "Mmmm, good." [Pause] "This is niiiiice."
I know there are more, but I seem to have no memory these days.
Speaking of Greta, she has been asking for a big girl bed for months. We have a full-size bed in her room that we kept from the days when that room was our guest room. Initially, we planned on keeping it in there for those early sleepless nights, but here we are almost two and a half years later and we find we still use it more than I would like. (Have I mentioned lately that Greta is a crap sleeper? I blame her parents.) Anyway, we have been looking for the perfect twin bed and it just hasn't been happening. Today I went out and bought a bed rail and we just slapped that baby (the rail, not Greta; she's not a baby anymore) on the "guest bed." So Bunny is sleeping on a big girl bed for the first time ever. Wish us luck. I am predicting a move to the crib at some point tonight, but we shall see.
While I'm giving Greta updates, I will say that we are trying to wean her from the pacifier. Yes, STILL. Pat and I often try to rationalize with her like she's a little adult, and that's just not the case. After trying to convince her to willingly give it up and not succeeding, we have gone with a new method: I am slowly cutting the nub thing down little by little with the thought that it will eventually become so small that she will no longer get satisfaction from it and will lose interest. It's just crazy enough to work! I have mentioned before that car rides are the one thing that seem like the hardest thing to break from the pacifier. Yesterday, I picked G up from day care and her pacifier was lost somewhere between her class and the car, so we drove home without it. Greta cried for a couple minutes and after trying to distract her and otherwise soothe her, I did the only thing I could think of: I cranked up the radio. After about a minute of trying to compete with that, she gave up and she was totally fine. FINE I tell you! Has anyone else done this?
And finally, here's a recent picture of Greta and her friend. This polar bear went to Saudi Arabia and stole something and was caught. His punishment was getting his hands cut off, so Greta and her friend were consoling him. The end.
Oooorrr, we recently met up at the zoo with one of Greta's former classmates and the stuffed polar bear has seen (much) better days.
