I had the opportunity to go meet my husband in Italy as he travelled on business this last weekend. We spent the bulk of our time in Venice with a short stop in Verona for lunch. The following are just some pictures that may help tell the story of our trip.
And just since we always need some comic relief, pushing the leaning tower on Burano over instead of the usual “holding up the leaning tower of Pisa” picture.
Muaaahahahahaha!
I want to speak to you face to face, without a screen in between and a microphone that doesn’t always want to work.
I want to tell you about my day and hear about yours without worrying about how many minutes we’ve been talking and how big our cell phone bill is getting.
I want to be able to call you without having to count out the time difference in hours to make sure you might still be awake.
I want to text you when you’re just down the hall and I’m too lazy to get up, instead of when you’re thousands of miles away and across an ocean.
I want to be able to fall asleep at night knowing you’re just in the other room and coming to bed soon.
But most of all, I want to have your arms around me, to have your lips touching mine, and to never ever let you go again.
I wish I still enjoyed your occasional business trips like I used to.
I really do.
But I don't.
I miss you, baby.
Hello my friends. Sorry I haven’t been around so far this week. I’ve still been trying to finish up defensive driving for that silly ticket. And I didn’t have any time over the weekend to work on it.
“Why,” you ask?
Well, we were just a little busy going to concerts and eating crawfish. And believe me, concerts and crawfish take precedence over defensive driving any day of the week and twice on Saturday.
Literally.
I found out a while back that Casting Crowns would be in concert here in the DFW area (Grand Prairie to be exact) on Saturday, May 1st. Well, it just so happened that we also had two (that’s TWO, people) crawfish boils to go to that day. Sorry, Crowns, but you get beat out by crawfish hands down.
Then I realized that they would be in none other but my favorite college town, College Station, on the night before. Just imagine… a pilgrimage to College Station plus Casting Crowns. Well, my friends, that just equals awesome and WHOOP at the same time.
So I hopped on the Twitter and tweeted something about it to Mark Hall who I know sometimes gives out “Tweet & Greet” tickets. Low and behold, he still had some. After a phone call or two, we had my mom coming to keep the kids for Friday afternoon and night and we were off to the promised land.
Our trips down to Aggieland are always a little nostalgic as we don’t do it very often. So here were some of my thoughts from the road:
Okay, now for the good stuff.
We got to College Station and had time for a quick snack. Where did we go? None other than the Chicken Oil Company for some cheese fries. It felt like home.
Oh, and I totally got carded and Mike didn’t. He’s such a cradle robber. And I made him tip that sweet girl that took our order. A LOT.
We changed clothes in what might possibly be considered the smallest, most cramped, stuffiest bathroom on the face of the planet and then headed over to Reed Arena for the concert.
So we got our tickets and met the group for the meet & greet and they led us back stage.
Now, if I had an official “Bucket List” one thing that would probably be on it would be to go back stage at a concert to meet the band. And since I don’t have one, if I ever do make one, I will likely put that on it just so I can mark it off. Just because I’m a little odd that way.
So here’s who we got to meet:
This is Mike Donehey from Tenth Avenue North. We met all the guys but it all moved so fast that we didn’t end up with a picture.
These guys have an incredible sound. I’m a lover of some good rock music and that’s what they do/ but with some really incredible and deep lyrics. I think we’ll be hearing a lot from them in the years to come.
And finally we got to meet Casting Crowns.
Megan and Melodee. These ladies can sing. In case you didn’t know.
This is Juan. He rocks the guitar and is married to Melodee (above) who also plays violin.
The concert was incredible. This is Caleb.
Precisely NONE of the rest of my “in concert” pictures came out. I think the bass was vibrating us too much because every single one of them was fuzzy.
Even my husband, who is not all that much of a music person, had a good time. If you’ve ever been to a Crowns concert before, you know that we went to church that night. Because as Mark Hall said, when the songs are over, they’re over. Jesus is the only thing that lasts.
Speaking of when the songs were over, the concert was over WAY later than we expected, so by then we were pretty hungry. We stopped at Wings N More for some heartburn before hitting the road for home at 11:30 pm. It truly did feel like we were back in college at that point.
And in case you were wondering, the Czech Stop is open for business, even at 2 am.
We rolled in at the house at about 3 am at which time we decided that if we never listened to BBC radio at that hour again, it would be too soon. Try it some time. You’ll agree.
We then went through the whole next day of softball games and two crawfish boils on about 3 hours of sleep.
Amen.
I didn’t really mention it on the blog last week, but my man and I celebrated our 14th wedding anniversary.
Fourteen.
It seems both like it was yesterday and like it was a lifetime ago all at the same time. But mostly, it’s just been a wild ride and we’re as strong or stronger in our relationship than ever. (See last year’s anniversary post here.)
And just so you know, my husband rocks.
Our anniversary was in the middle of the week, so we loaded up the kids that evening and went out to dinner to celebrate as a family the formation of our family on the day of our wedding. We had a good time and only had to remind the kids to use their inside voices 652 times during dinner.
Then over the weekend, the kids went to visit their Nanny (my mother-in-law) which allowed us to have a weekend. At home. Alone. Without kids. Or responsibilities.
Ahhhhhhh…..
There have been many times that we have taken a trip for our anniversary. Like two years ago, for instance, when we went to Las Vegas. And we’ve had years that we have stayed at home for the weekend. Both ways have good and bad things about them and have their place at certain points in life. And right now, at this point in life, the staying home option is just so right for us.
As I thought about it over the weekend, I began to look at it this way. When we travel, we want to go and see and do all that a new place has in store for us. We are adventurers. We want to experience. And that is great and fun and can be very romantic… in its own way. But it doesn’t allow for a lot of time just sitting and being in one another’s company.
However, when you stay at home, you may tend to look around and think to yourself about all the things you need to be doing or getting accomplished around the house while the kids are gone. Believe me, we fell into that trap when we stayed home the weekend of our 11th anniversary. It was our worst anniversary EVER as Mike busied himself trimming some trees outside and I may have spent the day scrapbooking inside. So the key to doing an anniversary stay-cation is being able to turn all of that off (or down a lot) just for this one weekend and do just a little work ahead of time so that you don’t feel the pressure to clean up or do housework over the weekend.
That’s what we did last weekend and it was so wonderful. We fixed dinner together and enjoyed cocktails and a glass or two of wine before renting a movie on Friday evening. On Saturday, we stayed in our pajamas most of the day as we lazed on the couch snuggled up together watching a West Wing marathon from the Season 2 DVDs Mike checked out from the library. We ate grilled cheese sandwiches and sipped wine by the fireplace (it was cold outside) and just talked about plans for the year and the future in general as well as challenges we are facing and obstacles we foresee. We talked about changes we want to make in ourselves, our relationship and our parenting. We talked about the kids and the challenges that we are facing with each of them. We talked and talked and talked until I said finally, “If we keep this up, we will have nothing to talk about over dinner.”
We went out for dinner Saturday evening and what a dinner it was. I have blogged before about Reata (restaurant in downtown Fort Worth). We decided to go there and to the improv comedy show Four Day Weekend (right next door to the restaurant) again and they both served us an incredible night out.
If you have not been there, Reata is a very nice restaurant serving decidedly Texan cuisine in a gourmet fashion. I was not surprised to hear from the hostess that the owners of the Philadelphia Eagles had been there for lunch the previous day (as they were in town preparing to be schooled by the Cowboys). We started off with some very nicely seasoned calamari. Then I enjoyed smoked quail (mmmm) and a duck breast (that was like buttah) served with jalapeno cheddar grits (oh my!) and green beans while Mike had what he referred to as one of the most tender steaks he’d ever eaten along with some shrimp with a Creole stuffing. Then for dessert, I can never seem to pass up their dessert tacos and Mike had a molten chocolate cake.
The improv show at Four Day Weekend was so funny. The language and material was a little rougher than last time we went a little over a year ago, but we laughed pretty hard the entire show. It was the perfect way to end the evening.
If you didn’t know, you can become a “fan” of local businesses such as these on Facebook (Reata’s Facebook fan page) and Twitter. I became a Reata “fan” a while back and have enjoyed reading each day what the chef’s specials are for the day. Because of some communication I’d had with them over their fan page in the couple of days prior, we got to meet the person who handles their social media, Gigi, and Mike Micallef, the owner and author of the cookbook I received for Christmas last year. It was really neat for me and made the evening just a little extra special.
I realized, though, as we sat in front of the fireplace and just chatted about life on Saturday afternoon that we would never have taken that opportunity had we been able to travel somewhere to celebrate our anniversary. I somewhat bemoaned the fact that we were just staying at home, but had we traveled somewhere, we would have stayed in a hotel and felt the need that since we had either paid for airline tickets or driven so far that we needed to get up, get out and go do it all. And, hotel rooms are just not as comfortable as being at home. Period.
So I would encourage you that if there is any way you can let your kids spend a weekend away from you and just stay at home with your spouse, do it. You might even decide to do an annual plan like my friend Melinda at Traveling the Road Home does and encouraged us to start doing last year. But the time we spent last weekend refreshed us and helped us feel like we had been able to communicate on levels that are nearly impossible in day to day living.
Anniversary vacation? Nah. In my humble opinion, the anniversary stay-cation is the way to go.
10 years ago this very night, a horrible thing happened to a place that I dearly love. 10 years ago, a horrific scene was left. 10 years ago, 12 young men and women whom I had never met, but with whom I had an unbreakable bond died. 10 years ago, the bonfire stack collapsed and that changed the landscape of my beloved Texas A&M forever.
I had been gone from campus for four years when tragedy struck. I don’t remember where I was when I got the news. I was doing life and honestly don’t remember much at all from that horrible time that I know the current students faced. But reading this article in Texas Monthly recently gave me just a hint of what they went through. (You really should read it.)
So, today, I remember these twelve and their families. Today I recognize that their families still mourn the loss of those young men and women. Today, however, I also mourn the loss of the tradition of bonfire that was so dear to the hearts of Aggies over the last 100 years. So, today, I want to give you a glimpse into what Aggie Bonfire, was like for me.
To understand even a little bit of Bonfire, you must realize that it was entirely built by students. The tradition started in 1909 as a pile of scraps and morphed eventually into a five-tiered wedding cake looking design and symbolized “our burning desire to beat the hell outta t.u.” It was the height of Aggie tradition at its best. Teamwork, ingenuity, hard work and passion all came together over the fall semester and culminated in a fire that’s probably bigger than you can possibly imagine.
Each year’s Bonfire was the freshman class’s Bonfire. My Bonfire (my freshman year) in 1991 was the last Bonfire to be held on Duncan Field. Now, I say “My Bonfire” but I’ll be the first to admit that I was not one of the “red-ass” girls that was out at cut and working on stack. Nope. My place was in the Coke Shack providing lemonade and hot cocoa to those who were red-ass enough to be building it.
My man, though, while we did not know one another at the time, was one who went to cut, swung an axe (yes… an axe) and got in there to help build Bonfire. Most of the stories that he could tell are not really fitting for a mostly family friendly blog. But he did remember one night being out at stack and was tied to one of the perimeter poles in order to protect it (don’t ask because I don’t know that I could explain it). One of the Junior Red Pots (JeRPs) came the next morning and rounded up several fish (aka freshmen), loaded them into his truck, drove them out to cut site, handed them trash bags and told them to get to work picking up trash. In my man’s words, “it was early, it was cold and it was drizzly. In a word, miserable.” He also recalled,
“We’d have fun at cut because you weren’t allow to walk away from a tree with a notch in it. You’d work together as a dorm until that tree was down. So it was fun to go over to another dorm’s section of the woods, right before lunch, and notch a tree, then run. The JeRPs would come through and wouldn’t release that dorm to go to lunch until all the notched trees were down, regardless of how hungry they were.”
Our sophomore year was the first year that Bonfire would be held on the Polo Fields. It was a difficult year for those building it because the new field was still very soft soil. It hadn’t been trampled on and packed down like Duncan had been for probably at least 30 years. It was a muddy mess that year, if I remember right.
My sophomore year was also the year that a friend of mine from high school that attended OU came down to visit. Bonfire was something he wanted to experience. When I asked him today if he remembered that trip, this was his response:
“I remember. It's not the sort of thing one forgets. I remember hearing about bonfire for several years. Usually, stories become tall tales, rarely living up to the hype; but this was different. Nothing prepared me for how big the structure really is. Now, on top of all of this is something the Aggie faithful call 'yell practice'. Well, I don't know why they call it practice, because I believe I was the only one here that felt a bit like a fish out of water. This of course did not stop the Aggie students from putting their arms around me and allowing me, an outsider, to participate in what has to be the world's largest pep rally. I feel fortunate to be counted amongst those that had the pleasure to experience such a great tradition. I can assure you that OU has nothing in comparison.”
This is what my friend saw that night.
I love that picture because with those hands sticking up in the air, you get a sense of the size that Bonfire was.
We remember that the yell leaders would always thank all the t-sips that were there to see Bonfire burn for their presence and their support. It’s true, too. There were always t.u. students and fans that would come to see the spectacle, just as my friend from OU did. In fact, our junior year, a friend of mine from t.u. came to Bonfire with us. That was also the year that the Class of ‘94 invited the class of ‘64 to come back and have it’s last Bonfire since it was cancelled in the fall of 1963 to respect the death of President Kennedy.
My senior year was the year that excessive rain caused the ground to shift, and on October 26, 1994, centerpole cracked and stack started to lean. The decision was made to pull it down completely and start over with 7 days until the burn date. That year was known as “Rebuild.”
Both Mike and I were living off campus and since much of the Bonfire involvement was done through on campus dorms, we had not been involved up to that point that year. At that point, though, we were involved. Everyone was. I think I may have even helped to schlep a log one night. One log and I was done, but I had done my part.
It’s hard to explain what Bonfire was, but if you don’t understand it, then these deaths are also hard to understand. (Not that they are easy to understand even for those of us who do understand Bonfire.) The entire fall semester revolved around it. Some people wore the same clothes to cut and stack every time they went and never washed their grodes (as they were called) but just burned them at Bonfire. It united the student body like nothing else ever did. At Bonfire we were one. And I think that’s part of why we built it.
I was not there in 1999 when the second time it collapsed it did so violently with people on top and killed 12 fellow Aggies. I was not there and have been somewhat removed from the tragedy. But my heart aches for the families that lost young lives that night and in the days following. My heart also aches for my school that lost a tradition and for the classes since then who have not experienced all that Bonfire was.
I have gotten to know several Aggies on Twitter as of late and there are two girls who were there at the time. @aggieredhead recalled having taken a log from Bonfire in 1998 and eventually getting rid of it not realizing it would be the last Bonfire on campus. @niseag03 told me about the Yell Practice that Friday before the game against t.u. “…They showed an image of Bonfire on the jumbotron. Not a dry eye, and not a single sound. Such solidarity and unity in one place.”
Will Bonfire ever return to campus at Texas A&M? I don’t know. I doubt it, but I wish, on some level, that it could.
But today, my hope for Aggieland is that even if Bonfire does not return to campus, the students will find some way to unite the diverse campus in a large scale way the way Bonfire did. That they would find a unifying way to truly demonstrate in a new way “the spirit can ne’er be told.”
I leave you with this poem that was recited at each Bonfire by the head yell leader by memory.
It was Judgment Day in Aggieland
And tenseness filled the air;
All knew there was a trip at hand,
But not a soul knew where.
Assembled on the drill field
Was the world-renowned Twelfth Man,
The entire fighting Aggie team
And the famous Aggie Band.
And out in front with Royal Guard
The reviewing party stood;
St. Peter and his angel staff
Were choosing bad from good.
First he surveyed the Aggie team
And in terms of an angel swore,
"By Jove, I do believe I've seen
This gallant group before.
I've seen them play since way back when,
And they've always had the grit;
I've seen 'em lose and I've seen 'em win
But I've never seen 'em quit.
No need for us to tarry here
Deciding upon their fates;
Tis plain as the halo on my head
That they've opened Heaven's gates."
And when the Twelfth Man heard this,
They let out a mighty yell
That echoed clear to Heaven
And shook the gates of Hell.
"And what group is this upon the side,"
St. Peter asked his aide,
"That swelled as if to burst with pride
When we our judgment made?"
"Why, sir, that's the Cadet Corps
That's known both far and wide
For backing up their fighting team
Whether they won lost or tied."
"Well, then," said St. Peter,
"It's very plain to me
That within the realms of Heaven
They should spend eternity.
And have the Texas Aggie Band
At once commence to play
For their fates too we must decide
Upon this crucial day."
And the drum major so hearing
Slowly raised his hand
And said, "Boys, let's play The Spirit
For the last time in Aggieland."
And the band poured forth the anthem,
In notes both bright and clear
And ten thousand Aggie voices
Sang the song they hold so dear.
And when the band had finished,
St. Peter wiped his eyes
And said, "It's not so hard to see
They're meant for Paradise."
And the colonel of the Cadet Corps said
As he stiffly took his stand,
"It's just another Corps Trip, boys,
We'll march in behind the band."
I had never been involved in a car wreck that had to involve the police before.
That is... not before Monday night.
My little man and I were making a Target run while Dad and sister were at their BSF class on Monday evening. We were on our way home at about 8 pm and honestly, everything happened so fast that I'm not entirely sure of what happened at all.
All I know is that all of the sudden, the car in front of me was stopped and I needed to stop as well. And, being just a two lane narrow little road with no shoulder, there was no swerving. The only option was to get on the brakes fast and hard.
Thankfully, my man had just purchased new tires for my car last week. Because they gripped the slightly wet and slick road and my brakes worked great (even though they also need to be replaced). I stopped in time.
However the car behind me did not.
We felt a bump, but it did not feel bad at all. I pulled on up and turned on to the side street just to get out of the way. I didn't realize that it didn't much matter.
I turned and checked on the little man and he was just fine and so was I. I got out and saw what hit me. That car was not just fine.
The people that live in the house on the corner came out because they heard the crash. I asked them to check on the other driver because I couldn't leave my son. Within a minute or so, an SUV pulled up behind me on the side street. It took a minute for me to understand who it was, but it was the person that had been driving the car that hit me. Her husband had been following her and she got in his car and pulled up behind me.
I had texted Mike immediately when it happened but had yet to hear back from him. So I texted him again. Then, when the woman's husband was cursing and dropping the f-bomb all over the place, I texted him again. Then I called him. And texted... and called... you get the idea.
My text history looks something like this:
"Wreck"
"Are you there? We just got rear ended."
"This guy is cursing."
"Can you come?!?!?"
"A little help?"
"HELLOOOOOO!?!?!?"
Just to be clear, the guy was not cursing at me. He was just mad and cursing at the situation as he called the police and the wrecker and looked at their car that was spewing steam everywhere. But still. It made me nervous to be by myself. I'm sure you understand.
Finally the police showed up and I felt much better. At first it was just one squad car and he needed to direct traffic because her car was not moving without a wrecker. Finally another officer showed up which allowed the other one to come over and begin writing the report as we continued to wait for the tow truck. Which, by the way, was totally exciting to my little man.
The guy had calmed down quite a bit and we began looking over my car. By just looking at it, it was not immediately obvious that I had been in a wreck. The only visible damage was that the bumper (a big black piece of plastic) was cracked. From the looks of her car, which had gone up underneath mine, my car should have looked much worse.
And of course, since I did have a 4 year old little boy with me, he realized all of the sudden, in the middle of talking with the police, that he needed to go to the bathroom, "REALLY BAD!" So, we went and knocked on the door of the corner house where the people had come from to check on things when it all first happened. Those sweet people let us come in and use their bathroom.
I love Texas hospitality.
Finally, as we were finishing up about an hour later, Mike called and was on his way from Bible study. Apparently the vibrate feature of his phone is not working and he never knew I was trying to get in touch with him. As I was on the phone with him I realized that our two police cars had turned into about five. Apparently not much was going on in our city that night.
He arrived and shortly thereafter we realized that this other couple's night was just getting worse.
The wife, who was driving the car that hit us, had outstanding warrants for unpaid tickets and was all of the sudden being hand-cuffed and seated in the squad car.
Ouch.
We were just about to get ready to leave when the tow truck finally arrived so we had to stay and watch that. It was what Nathan had been looking forward to and asking about constantly this whole time. We couldn't miss it.
We were really hoping that, for the other couple's sake, the damage was little enough that we could avoid messing with insurance. However, upon further inspection in the daylight today, Mike discovered enough damage that we're going to have to take it somewhere. In fact, he was up under the car looking around for a while when he finally realized that my spare tire was gone. Completely missing.
We still have no idea where it ended up.
So I experienced several firsts on Monday night. I was in a wreck with one of my children in the car. I was in a wreck that was bad enough to warrant police involvement. I was in a wreck that was bad enough that one of the cars was not leaving the scene under its own power. And I had someone cuffed and arrested right in front of me.
You would think that with a father that worked in law enforcement all of his career that I would have experienced that last one before. But, no.
And there definitely is a first time for everything.
Mike had been told that everything would be shut down all day on both that Friday and Saturday. Can you imagine being in Beijing, China for what is likely the only time you will ever be there in your life and not be able to go see any of the important sites? He was terribly frustrated over it.
He did go see the Olympic Village that we all got to know so well last summer. 
As it turned out, Mike and his business partner woke up on Saturday morning and decided to get on the subway and head to the Forbidden City just to see what they could see.
And it was open. They got to spend about 1 ½ hour there with a guide seeing some of the highlights.
Their guide even took them to a room where the nephew of “The Last Emperor” still comes to on Saturdays to do calligraphy. And he met him.
Wow.
While he was there, he also made a trip to the silk market where he picked up a little something for each of us.
Sorry. You don't get to see mine. :)
I was so excited for him that he got to see at least a little bit of the historical part of China.
One thing that he learned from his trip, though, is that even though it was a place that was not really on his list of places he wanted to go, he now wants to go back.
So, China, look out. We might someday be headed your way.
Day 6 – Thursday
I can tell the week is really starting to catch up with me. I hate going to bed at night without Mike here so I just stay up watching TV while lying in bed because I’m too tired to sit and concentrate on anything at the computer. Then, I have to wake up early to get it all done to get out the door in time for school.
I got up at 5 am as usual this morning but ended up back in bed to try to catch a few more winks. I was dragging pretty much and I goofed around just enough that Sarah was late to school. Not by more than just a minute or so, but I felt defeated none-the-less.
I was scheduled today to have lunch with Sarah’s class to give her teacher a break. You see, our school is mostly in portable buildings right now and the grammar school kids have no central cafeteria. They have lunch in their rooms, which means that their teachers stay and have lunch with them. So we, as parents, like to come and take over for a few minutes as much as we can to give our sweet teachers a break. The kids in Sarah’s class are all pretty much good kids, but the boys in this year’s class seem like they are likely a hand-full. Oh my! I need to go in with more of a game-face on next time.
Today was the kids’ last day in after school care for the week. That was a mile-stone for me. That let me know that the week is almost over.
Sarah was supposed to have her first soccer practice today. However, there was no soccer practice because, shocker, it rained… again. We just had a short meeting with her coaches and the team and got our jerseys. They are awful. Burnt Orange.
We know her coach from church and we know that they are Longhorn fans. So I gave him the look as he SWORE up and down that he did NOT request that color. The other coach, who is a good Ag, backed him up on it and assured me that the goalie jersey would be maroon. “And we all know,” he said, “that every kid wants to wear that goalie jersey.”
True enough.
We were even a little late to our soccer team meeting so that we could talk to Dad for just a few minutes on Skype. Since this wasn’t a real practice, I didn’t mind having her be a few minutes late so that she could talk to her Dad.
We got home and I had the kids out riding their bikes while I got dinner ready. I looked around the mess that was my kitchen, took a peek in the fridge and then went outside and loaded up the kids and went to Taco Casa.
Yeah. It was that kind of a night.
Once the kids were in bed, I was sitting here at my computer working and Mike tried to call. We spent a good 20-30 minutes trying to get video and audio all working correctly and I ended up having to completely re-boot my computer. But we finally did get it to work and we had the greatest talk.
As it turns out, it was Friday morning his time and they had already gone back into Beijing with hopes of doing some sight-seeing. However, with the coming of the 60th anniversary of the formation of the communist party there in the PRC (People’s Republic of China) everything was shut down for a parade rehearsal. The Forbidden City, Tienanmen Square and the whole surrounding area. Shut down.
Can you imagine being in Beijing for the first (and possibly only) time and just twiddling your thumbs in your hotel room because there’s nothing to do?
Well, it worked in my favor because I got to just sit and talk to my man without the kidlets muscling in on my time. We laughed and joked and talked about our weeks, politics, church stuff, kid stuff and nothing at all. It was like he was sitting right here with me.
I loved it.
And I feel like it is going to be just enough to get me through until Saturday.
My man is a heckuva great husband. Fantastic father. Enthusiastic car guy. Mr. Fix-it.
He's a lot of things.
But he's not a mom.
He's been home with the kids all week. And will be next week too.
The kids are having a blast.
BUT.
In HIS words, the house is currently in a state of Mr. Mom FAIL.
The evidence:
The dish sponge got placed on top of something that turned adhesive and part of the sponge stuck to the counter top.
The same thing happened to a box of cereal on my kitchen table.
And the t.v. / play room... oh I just can't even talk about it.
Now, it's not like I'm some neat-freak house keeping goddess. And I'll take some blame as there has been a lot of sugar, flour and water thrown around my kitchen as of late between bread and cookie production. But the house was pretty well clean on Monday.
Ahhhh well. We'll get it cleaned up soon.
I just hope that "Jaws the vaccuum cleaner" doesn't come after him.
(In case you were wondering, permission was granted to write this post.)
**This post is G-rated. I had requests to not post pictures, so there is nothing graphic in the body of this post. Any graphic pictures are posted as links.**
My Valentine’s Day started GREAT.
For one thing, I got to sleep late. I know 8:00 am doesn’t sound late to some of you, but when you normally get up at 5:30 am, well, that’s almost like sleeping until noon.
I have this personal little tradition to make a special breakfast on certain holidays. I’ll usually do something special on everyone’s birthday and definitely on Valentine’s Day. During the week I had planned and had every intention of making these Black Forest Buns that I heard about on Twitter last week. However, that just wasn’t going to happen, time wise. So after the fog cleared a little and the rest of the house began to stir and children began appearing out of their bedrooms, I decided to make chocolate waffles.
Good decision. They were yummy.
The day was busy and I got a lot accomplished. I did the Wii Fit for a while and got a good workout. I took a nap and put some heat on my shoulder that was hurting. You know… really pressing stuff.
Finally, after such a tiring afternoon, I decided it was time to start putting dinner together. We rarely go out for dinner on Valentine’s Day. It’s just too crowded and hard to find a babysitter. So, I had planned to make dinner here. I had wanted to do something kind of gourmet and special, but my man requested Stuffed Pork Chops. So, that’s what I planned to make. I even invited some other people over for dinner and we were just going to go ahead and have a little dinner gathering.
And then, tragedy struck.
I was chopping some Shiitake mushrooms to add to the stuffing and I felt it happen. I didn’t see it… I didn’t want to. But I had cut my finger. I yelled at my man for help as I stood fiercely gripping it over the sink. I didn’t hurt yet which, I knew had to be a bad sign. As he went to get a band-aid, I grabbed a paper towel and saw some blood as I opened my hand to hold the paper towel on it.
Then I began to get woozy.
I sat down and as we kind of talked about it and I expressed my inability to let go of it, I really began to feel woozy. I couldn’t hold my head up and I couldn’t hear anything. If you’ve never experienced the feeling of being ready to pass out… you don’t want to. It’s really bizarre.
He helped me into the bed amidst my crying and the finger finally began to hurt.
He kept talking to me and asking me questions to which all I could manage to sob was, “I don’t know.” He told me my face looked grey, to which I replied, “Because there’s no blood in my brain!” It was as if all the blood in my head had heard that there was an escape route and it all made a b-line out of my head to toward my finger. I couldn’t think, I could hardly speak. I was in a state.
After a quick peek at it and a look around the house, he surmised that we did not have the proper dressings for such a wound. Off we went to Urgent Care (what I normally call “The Quack Shack”). Thankfully, my mother in law had just arrived for dinner and was able to take the kids so that they didn’t have to witness the carnage that was yet to come.
God bless the Care Now clinic because we got there and they took me straight back. If we had gone on to the hospital, I’d have had to sit in the waiting room and might still be waiting even now.
Here’s how some of the conversation went while we were there as they asked the necessary questions:
Nurse: “How did this happen?”
Me: “While chopping some mushrooms to go in the stuffing. Which I shouldn’t have done because he doesn’t like mushrooms. I’m starting to believe in Karma.”
Nurse: “Why were you cooking on Valentine’s day? Shouldn’t you,” directed at my man, “have been cooking?”
Me: “Well, I didn’t want chili.”
Nurse laughs. My man looks shocked. Doctor give him a nod and says, “Yeah, chili!” They butt fists. *sigh* MEN.
Nurse: “When was your last Tetanus shot?”
Me: I hang my head as I realize, then answer, “February 14th, 3 years ago.”
Mike says that this is when I garnered sympathy from anyone standing nearby.
Then things got nasty. What we discovered after the doctor was able to pry my right hand away from my left was that there was nothing to stitch. I had completely sliced off a portion of the pad of my left ring finger. The doctor said they would clean it up and cauterize it to stop the bleeding. CAUTERIZE?!?
First I had to soak the finger in an antiseptic solution for 5 or so minutes. I’ll be honest. I cried like a baby and Mike had to hold my hand down in the antiseptic. It HURT.
Then came the shots. Oh the shots. Hang on… I’m getting a little light headed again just thinking about it.
*lays down, props up feet & takes a drink of water*
Okay, I’m back.
Yes, that was plural… shot-S. Things were finally starting to feel better once we got past the initial pain and stinging of the shot and I had told him that yes, it was feeling better. Mike said I was finally starting to relax. And then he STUCK me AGAIN, to which I responded, “BUT THAT DOESN’T!!!” Mike said he had to hold back the laughter at that.
Then came the cauterization. Mike is sitting there watching all of this like he’s giddy at the thought of burning flesh. He’s asking questions like a curious little boy and finds out that this tool is a one time use thing for them. The doctor tells him, “You bought it, you can take it with you if you want.” Then they began discussing all the uses they might be able to come up with for this cauterization tool at home. I had to interrupt finally and say, “UM, hellOOO. I’m laying right here. You know… the one you are currently burning!”
So, if you’re interested and not queasy, click here to see a picture of the end product. (It's actually not that bad looking, in my opinion.)
After all was said and done, I got a nice big sympathy inducing bandage.
And I have been forbidden to go near any sharp knives for 1 – 2 weeks.
We ended up getting Pei Wei for dinner and I self medicated on Red Velvet and Amaretto Truffle Cakes that my man brought home for Valentine's Day from my favorite bakery. I honestly didn't care if I gained back the entire 1.8 pounds that I lost last week.
And as I looked around the kitchen later on that evening, there I saw, lying among the Shiitake mushrooms that I was chopping, a little sliver of my finger. (Click here to see a picture.)
And Mike, he came home with a new fun little toy. He can burn stuff now. He’s giddy.
Me? I’m just having a hard time typing and washing my hair.
And that was My Bloody Valentine. How was yours?
"What a day it has been,
What a rare mood I'm in,
Well it's almost like being in love."
Do you know that song?
Here, let Dean remind you...
Ahhh... So true. What a day, indeed. And this was my anniversary.
It started out fine; up with the alarm at 5:45 am (I'm working my way back to 5:15 or 5:30) and I, at least mentally, recognized that today was January 6th.
We had a fairly normal morning routine until....
My heel stuck a hole right through my wood floor:
Then it got better as I had to have some serious talks with my son about his behavior at school today (i.e. not biting and not pushing his classmates).
Then I got to work and found this email from my daughter's teacher: "Also, we were informed in our meeting yesterday that classroom lunch helpers cannot bring siblings with them. Mrs. S feels as if the helpers full attention is not on the class if they have a younger child with them."
I have been fairly upset by this most of the day as I am the primary lunch volunteer for Sarah's class on Wednesdays when the 2nd grade teachers all go out for lunch and plan. I do it every week, on my day off from work, except for when I have BSF fellowships. And Nathan comes with me because, well, it's my day off and I refuse to send him to daycare every Wednesday afternoon.
So there's my quandry. I have a feeling that a meeting with the principal is going to be in order here pretty soon just to clarify the policy, to express my utter disappointment, and to iterate the fact that I tend to pay more attention while the kids are at recess than do the other moms without siblings present as they stand by the classroom and chat away, paying hardly any attention at all to the children on the playground. (Was that a run-on sentence?)
But I'm giving myself a couple of days to cool off and gain some perspective. Because I know enough about myself to know that I can't go in there like this.
So, I'm curious... What do you think? What would you do?
So after school we had piano and some errands to run. At some point, Sarah and I begin to discuss the fact that today was our anniversary. I mentioned that we were married on this day 13 years ago, and asked, "Can you count backwards and figure out what year we got married?"
She counts and counts... then stops, and says, "WOW! So, you were married in the 1900's?"
Yes, just call me Laura Ingalls Wilder, for that matter. Thanks, kid.
Needless to say, by the time the kids and I made it to dinner to meet Mike, at the Cheesecake Factory, I was done. D.O.N.E. - done.
But....
Fried Calamari, 2 Cosmopolitans, and Spicy Chipotle Chicken Pasta for dinner, then Godiva Chocolate Cheesecake for dessert later, I am fat and happy.
In spite of the kids being with us and my need to repeat the command to, "SIT DOWN," 500 times in the course of an hour meal, we had a good meal and I even scored some roses.
What a day it has been, indeed. What a day.
13 years ago today, this is what I was doing.
13 years ago today, it was snowing.
13 years ago today, I was looking forward to going to New Zealand.
My man and I found ourselves in an interesting situation last weekend. We had no kids.
Sarah had an early morning soccer game, which was a nice switch from all the 1 pm games she has had all season. It really cuts into the middle of the day at 1 pm. His mom came up to attend the game and while the adults in the family had already decided that the kids would spend the night with her, Sarah thought she was so smart and that she came up with the idea herself.
I don't remember how it all went down, but it ended with Sarah asking if they both could go spend the night with Nanny and we said they would have to ask her... of course she said yes and off they went.
I spent the better part of the day scrapbooking, which if you'll remember, I mentioned recently that I had not done any in, oh, the last YEAR.
So then we came to Saturday evening. We looked at each other and said, "What do adults do when they don't have kids around?"
(Besides the obvious, of course.)
(Ahem.)
We decided that we were so concerned about sitting across the table from one another and having to make an attempt at conversation that we needed to invite some friends on a double date. As we waited to hear from them we discussed what we might go and do and where we might want to eat.
Dairy Queen was pretty far up on my list as you might expect.
However, once we did talk to our friends, an upscale evening was decided upon and we were on our way downtown.
Our evening consisted of dinner at Reata and then the improvisational comedy show Four Day Weekend.
A couple of things you should know:
1) Reata is a little pricey... very nice, but in a down to earth Fort Worth kind of way.
2) It would not have normally come up as a place to go because a)we had never been there before and b) it's a little pricey.
3) Our friend, Glenn, used to wait tables there back before the May 28, 2000 tornado when it was still on the top floors of a building downtown. It has since moved since they were originally I think planning to implode the building because it was so badly damaged.
So, my take on Reata.
Oh. my. soul. If you want a nice time out and enjoy some really good food, this is your place. I started off with a cup (aka bowl) of tortilla soup. Mike had a steak that in his words was "like buttah." I enjoyed a Chicken Chile Rellenos that was unlike anything I'd ever tasted before.
I'll admit, I've lived in Texas nearly all my life (except for that random 1 1/2 year stint in Virginia when I happened to give birth to a child outside of our great state... ahem). However, I never been just itchin' to try chile rellenos. Never had it. It never looked or sounded appetizing before. Until last Saturday. Now this will be the "gold standard" of chile rellenos for me from here on out.
If you don't know what on earth I'm talking about, chile rellenos is a stuffed pepper - usually poblano or aneheim. In my research, most recipes show the peppers roasted (or blistered) to get the skin off, stuffed with cheese, battered and fried.
The whole fried thing I think is what turned me off in the past.
Or maybe it was the fact that the first place I ever saw one was at Rancho's Mexican Barfet when I was 10.
Anyways, the one I had at Reata was not fried (I'm guessing oven roasted) and it was stuffed with a shredded chicken stuffing that was marvelous and topped with some sour cream and what the menu termed Roasted Corn Chowder.
I don't have a recipe to share with you, however this link has a recipe, method ideas and a video for chile rellenos.
And you know what, we even had some dessert. You wanna know what we had? Take two things I love most in the world and put them together.
Dessert Tacos.
The shells seemed like they were some hardened caramelized sugar that was curved like a crispy taco shell with a filling, caramelized bananas and chocolate "gravy." Oh yeah. Chocolate gravy.
After being blessed by such an incredible meal, we had to walk around a bit before going to the improv show, which was, by the way, hilarious.
Boo! A couple of days late, I suppose.
Dear Buffy,
I wasn't aware until recently that you knew where I worked. But it has become apparent to me that you do.
I know that it is you who must be bringing sweets to my office and leaving them on the kitchen table. Sweets like lemon cake with lemon frosting, chocolate chip cookies, and a box of bagles and cookies from Einstein Bro.s.
Only someone so devious would be working so hard to ruin my figure. I guess you think that I will eat so much that my waist-line will slowly disappear causing my man to find me less attractive and you more attractive.
Or you may think that bringing such delectable treats that I will eat will draw me to exercise more to guard my figure and spend less time with my man.
But, you shall not win. No, you shall not win.
I am not eating your diabolical treats. Well, not very much of them anyways.
I am making my own. So that I can fatten him up too. Then maybe you'll leave him alone.
So take that, Buffy.
Last week, the ignition switch on my car started acting up.
You know, where you stick the key in and turn it on. THAT's the ignition switch.
I know this because my man, he is a car guy.
And I can't help but have some of it rub off on me. I know parts of cars that it is COMPLETELY unnatural for a girl to know.
But I still can't change a flat tire. So, I guess I'm safe in the girl realm.
I'm convinced he secretly doesn't want me to know how to change a flat tire just so he'll have to come rescue me. His damsel in distress.
**SIGH**
But back to my ignition switch problem. It reared it's head a week ago... last Tuesday afternoon. I went across the street to Target during my lunch time to pick up a few things. I got back out to the car and tried to turn it on and I couldn't get the key to turn.
As me and my groceries are melting in the 300 degree car parked in the treeless parking lot of a Target smack-dab-in-the-middle of Texas... my key won't turn. I can't get the car to start.
So I call my knight in shining armor to come and rescue me from 30 miles away (seeing that he was at his place of employment). We finally got the car started. But turning the key and getting it out of the "starting" position was all very difficult.
Mike called that afternoon to get the 411 on a new ignition switch only to find out that he had to order it in person with 1) the VIN, and 2) proof of ownership i.e. the title. It has something to do with computer coding and whatnot. AAANND, it was going to cost upwards of $250. OHH... oh, and it was going to take a week to 10 days to get here.
Have I mentioned that we're going to Destin? We need the car for that trip, by the way.
My man's elation was so evident when I got his email to day that our part had come in. So, following what I hear to be the trend in the blogosphere, we will unbox our ignition switch for you and let you simply marvel at the greatness that is Swedish Engineering...
Personally I'd rather unbox a pair of Dolce & Gabbana Leopard Pony Pumps. But a girl can't have it all. You take what you can get. And right now, that's a brand-spankin'-new ignition switch from Sweden.
No car story involving my husband would be complete without a view of the work in progress. Because, you know, things NEVER go as planned. The five minute job takes 30 and the couple of hour project turns into days.
I'm not dissing him... he's just way to optimistic as a general rule. More pessimism, honey. We need more pessimism.
Yes that's a drill down there and those, they are metal shavings. He had to drill out some bolts holding the old part together. "At least," he says, "I haven't had to take the saws-all to your car yet."
Yet.
But I am happy to report that he did get the part installed and my car running again without the use of a saws-all or too many death threats against the Swedish engineers who designed my car.
He sauntered back inside. Yes, he sauntered with a sense of victory. He had won.
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