Roommate Roulette

My poor mother-in-law. If having to undergo surgery again on Friday evening to place a shunt and drain liquid collecting on her brain wasn't bad enough...mom just can't seem to win in the hospital roommate department.

When she moved from her private ICU room to the quad ICU step-down unit during her first hospital stay she ended up with "repeat Chris" for a roomie. Now, although you come to appreciate a head injury patient repeating random heard words ten times in row, it can be a slight bit annoying. Of course demanding Louise at the acute rehab was a welcomed good-bye. This time, this time mom got a doozy in the ICU step-down. An El Forastero motorcycle gang member.

Now the El Forasteroes will label themselves as a "motorcycle club" but the rest of the world would call them a gang. Motorcycle dude had a motorcycle accident, as the nurse often reminds him and since this group of cyclers are known for wearing skull caps one can only imagine the head injury the dude suffered was caused from poor head protection. It must be some kind of roommate because Uncle Dan informed me that mom was asking for two beers...my sister-in-law told her she has never drank beer in all the time she has known her. Motorcycle dude is driving my mother-in-law to drink (or want too). If it isn't bad enough that everything the dude says is preceded with an F-bomb (where are my f-ing boots,, my f-ing nose itches....) tonight he asked King Ralph's 12-year old niece for a pocket knife and screw driver. Hmmmm, mom it might be time to start sleeping with one eye open. Good thing dude is strapped down.

Reflecting now, Louise is looking like a treat after all.

There's No Place Like Home

Uli, our little Wizard of Oz dog went for a run today...well this morning before I left for work. I dorve around slowly for fifteen minutes on the look for her. She ran so long King Ralph took the day off work to hunt her down because he couldn't live with himself if he had to tell his daughters he left the front door open when he took the trash out. I guess after a while Uli began to think there's no place like home and she just appeared.

King Ralph then decided if she was to go on the run again she better run looking fine; so he took her to the doggie beauty parlor for a shampoo and style. While King Ralph was at the pet parlor he got what I am sure is more a treat for him then the dog. Uli will walked on a flipping HARLEY DAVIDSON DOG LEASH. If it is not bad enough King Ralph dreams and breaths that darn mid-life crisis in the garage, now the dog is marked with sign of the hog.

What am I going to do with the King?! He has lost it!!!

While the dog said there is no place like home, my mother-in-law says the same thing. Because when comparing the ICU at SLU Hospital--there, is, no place like home.

Two Phat Black Dresses

I wanted to humor you all with my LHS 80's blast from the past Homecoming picture, but as much as I tried to dig through boxes in the storage room I took to sneezing from collecting basement dust minus any luck of uncovering the artifact. Oh well, maybe another time.

When Princess A was in kindergarten she took our little three and a half pound Yorkie, Skeeter Bug, to school for pet day. Such an occasion of display meant our wee pouch needed a bath, brush and a leash for her parade of Princess A's pet pride...all happening in a matter of hours. It was the most traumatic day in ole' Skeeter Bug's life, she shook like a Fall leaf from a tree.

Freshman D had a Skeeter Bug day yesterday. She got her ears pierced--a suggestion of femininity she has fought for years, much to her sisters dismay. She got her fingers and toes painted--something she has put a fist up against since the day she came into this world. She got her tresses curled and held in place with much hair product and had a full face of make-up; all applied by her oldest sisters. Then she had moms snapping pictures of her with her dance date. Not to mention a living room full of high school juniors and seniors, boys AND girls, in unison singing out a sweet "ooooohhhh" when I announced her date was pulling up (as I saw from the window). She blushed and I thought it was a good traumatic day for my baby girl...looking all glam-glam in her layered black satin dress and silver heels. I believe her date got one of the prettiest girls for a dance .
And her besties where looking equally as glam

M and one of her besties and fellow guard girl (who was on the homecoming court) looking oh-so-fab-u-lous.
What warms my heart as a mom is that Princess A came home from college this weekend just to help her sisters get ready for the dance...two sisters so close in age yet have been so distant in likeness now finding a common shared ground--high school, and a homecoming dance

They Made the Ten O'Clock News

Lindbergh High School marching band chosen to play in Tournament of Roses Parade ksdk.com St. Louis, MO

Shared via AddThis

Where Did You Go To School?

I have no idea why my tired weary body thinks it should be awake at the five a-m hour on this Saturday. I suppose it has been wound tight like a clock always thinking it is "running out of time". Answering that famous St. Louis question "where did you go to school?" And, we all know that means high school, not college. Which means my answer would LHS, with this week being Homecoming.

How 'bout it friends, shall I share? A few photos of the last couple of days... saving my blast from the past and the present (tonight)for a tomorrow posting? You bet I am going too.

It is Homecoming here in the land of the Flyers. There was Thursday's parade-- the band's third place float (a fall from grace since they usually win first, but the band likes to share glory) and bon fire. I have never gone to the bon fire, can't remember if they had a bon fire in my high school Flyer days? I felt if at any moment Danny Zuko was going to appear.

With all the rain this week the band didn't have a very good half-time show. They hadn't had a full run through since Tuesday and spent Friday morning doing a Fox2 pep rally.

After the half-time show came the big moment. A moment we expected some word about in October, certainly not last night. Just like Princess A, during her Freshman year, M will be spending her [Senior] Christmas break 2011 marching down Colorado Blvd. in Pasadena, California in the Tournament of Roses Parade. Here's M the moment after the Tournament of Roses President called and it was piped over the load speaker for the entire crowd to hear the announcement of invitation. Now LHS Homecoming isn't just all bout M, it's about D this year as well. This is her high school now too.
Look who came home to let a little green and gold pump through her veins and enjoy the 38-14 win over the Lafayette Lancers...the Princess.
There was then...

And there is now...
'Cause remember in St. Louis it is all about..."Where did you go to school?"

Some of Us Never Leave

Homecoming? Well jeez, I don't feel like I ever left. I feel, no, I am certain all I do these days is drive through the parking lot making drop offs and pick ups...I'm always "coming home". I spend endless hours in a uniform closest and a "green room" coating my hands with hairspray. I spend my Fridays sitting on metal bleachers clapping my hands and singing a fight song. All for a good cause.

That's right folks it is Homecoming at Lindbergh High School. My alma mater. So, after last nights parade in the dark (which was a sad but attempted likeness of a Disney light parade)and a bon fire...I am preparing to fashion my Flyers spirit wear to work, then dashing to the "home" I can't seem to get away from--LHS.

GO FLYERS!

(I promise tomorrow to post a special treat of days gone by.)

A New Season

Good-bye summer. Long days of warm sunshine. Electric bills that reflect constant running of cool air pumped into the house. Grills smoking delicious meats and scrumptious home grown vegetables. Crystal blue pool water. And sunscreen with a coconut scent. Sandals. And sundresses. Margaritas and mojitos.

Hello autumn. Late sun rises. Early sunsets. Fire places to warm the home. Large pots of comfort foods boiling on a stove as homemade bread wafts from the oven. Monday night football. And Friday night football. Scent of cool crisp air. Leaves crunching on the ground. Luscious leather boots. And sweaters. Red wine and Bailey's.

Oh autumn be kind...for I am not sure I am totally ready to welcome you just yet.

Before and After

Like I have said a band field show is a constant work in progress.
Like the Skip-Its

Before Donna's magic

After Donna's magic


I love the Skip-Its!

Cloudy With a Chance of Marching Band

Panic.

I ironed from 10pm to 1130pm, all those darn white blouse. Oh let's do talk--white blouses.

Disaster!

Not the ironing, that was smooth and crisp. The blouses on the other hand; when I got to the competition warm-up area and saw the girls I freaked--skin, where skin should not be visible. And lots of it, every time they lifted the arms. Like duck tape safety pins are also color guard's best friend. So we moms pinned the tails of the shirts to the waist of suit pants. Then as they did the little dance in the third song (which for now is the end of the show) I saw skin. Safety pin failure. Not good! When the rain came and shoved us into the back end of the band trucks for dry cover--we talked new layer (and I learned my new cellulure device cause two point five hours is a long time in the back of a band truck). We have to have body suits. Just when I think I can stop being hassled and taxed by color guard performance uniforms, wham!, I am thrown back in the search again.

Rain.

I mentioned rain and I tell you a lot of it. Never ending rain. Enough to post pone prelims and cancel finals. We took second, tied first in drum line and the guard got third (one point away from second). We are happy. BTW all this info was relayed via a text message since we high tailed it out of there before awards. God only knew how long that rain was going to last. It may still be raining in Farmington for all I know. In my seven year history as a band mom this is the first rain out of a competition. Bummer.

Let's back peddle for a minute. I stopped to get M and the neighbor friend a Starbucks coffee since being at band for competition on Saturday by 7am is jolting to the system--caffeine infusion required. Only to back out of a nearly empty parking lot for my car to meet another. Crunch goes the little blue Toyota. Has NOT been my week! Just another to add to my list of I wish it wasn't so's. So, from now on girls it is Folgers and flavored creamer from the frig.

Now I will treat you to a band performance since I forgot my camera. Be kind to us. The show is still evolving. This week we add the fourth piece, the clock flags and the clock tarp to the field. Lindbergh's field show is never the same show twice.

Hear the Ticking of the Blurred Clock

The bags under my eyes are all part of a ploy for sympathy. Or maybe even a small stipend from my employer. I know I am district employee volunteering on behalf of daughter but hemming color guard show uniforms till 11pm, dreaming about those darn grey suits in my sleep and finishing the last two suits at 530am then rushing them to the cleaners by 7am-- shouldn't that be worth something?!

When I think I am in the clear for some R&R and a cocktail party over at Lin's-- I realize wherever I go I have to drag along my steam iron, ironing board and fourteen white cotton business shirts. Plus stop at Target to get five more tubes of L'Oreal Colour Riche Tropical Coral #444 lipcolor and a bottle of Downy Wrinkle Free-- all for the color guard.

Yesterday I asked the color guard co-director, who was in charge of getting the white cotton business shirts for the show uniforms if she wanted me to take them to the cleaners with the suits for a good heavy starch and pressing. She passed and said she would take care of things. Oh brother! If you want things done you have to do them yourselves. Maybe that is harsh, stretching it, but I should have taken a stance in favor of the shirts to the cleaners. So I rush out of work tonight dash to the cleaners pick up the last five suits go back to the high school match the suits with the proper garment bag for traveling... I see co-director hung the white business shirts with each girl's garment bag. YIKES! The shirts' appearance resembles the liking of having been rolled over, slept in, danced on...you name it fourteen shirts with more wrinkles than a Sharpei. Not acceptable for a field show. So, tonight, I stand ironing board side with a cocktail in hand. It is the only way I am going to remain with some level of saneness with all this last-minute-time-crunched-uniform-nonsense in preparation for tomorrow's first competition of the marching season.

Lin, I have to leave the cocktail party early, I hear the clock ticking...we have to report to school at 7am. Me with those darn perfectly pressed white shirts in hand.

As I leave the "lemonade stand" I raise my glass to us all--women of greatness. And insanity.

The Show Title Is Too Fitting

Running Out of Time. That is the show title for this year's marching band field show. The title speaks to me.

I wish I could sit here and type away, but I am "running out of time." Literally!

The last five color guard uniforms arrived in the mail yesterday. After work today I pinned them on each girl, between multiple runs to high school retrieving, dropping and attending meetings I have to hem and hem and hem and hem and hem....

So like I said, I wish we could talk but I have tons of thread to move in order to get the suits to the dry cleaner by 7am and ready for Saturday's first competition.

Running Out of Time!

(Did I mention I dragging dog tired? Cause I am.)

Say It Isn't So

I've read a lot of wacky news stories, but this one takes the cake.

Of course curiosity gets the most of all, so I clicked the "go here" option for a photo viewing. Which lead to a three year old article on the hot-to-trot senior babe and her man [of the hour].

It seems his time is running out? Or her money is drying up? He's restless. Maybe to young after all. All I know is it is hard enough to train and keep one man, husband, who wants to do it... twenty-two times. Twenty of her "other half" are still going strong. Well maybe not strong but at least kicking (or laying) around--somewhere.

Elizabeth Taylor can't hold a candle to this broad.

Uhg!

Laundry 101

Why is it that we allow our own busy lives to stop us from making time to be with friends?

I had the best Saturday. And the longest breakfast of my life. I met up with my old camp friends and talked the morning into the afternoon--a six hour breakfast date, with tons more talking that could have been done. We talked about our parents, husbands, kids, G's adorable grand kids, menopause, college life, Ellen as the new Idol judge (thumbs down)...and laundry.

Thanks to G's son, who is for the first time tending to his own laundry, I learned a whole new way to fold T-shirts. G told the story of how her son didn't know how to fold clothes so he Googled, "how to fold clothes." She intrigued us all with a folding technique I just felt I must learn for myself. Something to excite me into doing laundry (cause those who know me well know I hate doing laundry).

And so I Googled.

This is the what I found:

Now I can't stop doing laundry, looking for T-shirts in the girls laundry piles. I am suddenly addicted to folding T-shirts in this sort of laundry origami fashion.

I also left excited for the day I turn fifty, which is a ways off but still. Sitting with my girl friends I can tell wisdom, strength and increased confidence comes with the age.

Now anyone who says a six hour breakfast is crazy should know in the end we leave not just with our hearts filled with friendship but we leave with knowledge that will last a life time...and that we should never go three years between get togethers.

Ladies see you around Christmas!

Friday Jabber

I am so glad yesterday is over. Thursday is my new hell day of the week. I spend my time after work doing nothing more than shuttling the daughters back and forth from the high school.

This day, Friday, is bring my hubby to work day. That's right people King Ralph is going to school today. Since it is Heroes Day he was officially invited for an assembly of honor and a breakfast. Being the nice, loving and supportive wife that I am, I am going in early so I can sit next to him in the sea of small people. He has on clean pants and a crisp white shirt--he's looking the part. When I woke this morning thinking about this day, thinking how the school gymnasium will be full of police, fireman and other service workers there are tons of people waking on this day dreading the grief that floods their memories.

I've got to wear "real" shoes today. Yesterday when the "big guy" was in the house and I quickly turned my flip-flopping feet to a soft shuffle. Oh brother who wants to be busted on the job for wearing contraband footwear. I went into hiding. Then I looked at my co-workers feet and joy of joys I have much company. One said to me "J. Crew flops, can't wear J.Crew in the shower." Another said "these are my faves, not in the shower I could slide and slip." Of course my ever favorite line, is my own, "these are my new black flops I don't wear new shoes in the shower." Today's dress code is red, white and blue [jeans] with real-uhg-shoes today. I guess for the Heroes it is worth it.

However, after work (after I gaze at my new very clean windows that flood my home with sunshine) I will do a quick wardrobe change into my favorite spirit wear t-shirt and my yellow polka-dot chucks, cruise to the high school to dress the Color Guard. Because looking like a Flyer in the stands is important under the Friday Night Lights.

Can't We All Just Sleep?

Reasons the house that should be slumbering is not:

*King Ralph has a migraine.
*D is stressed about something she can't pin point so her insomnia is kicked in. (I have no trouble pin pointing the strain of high school classes on her mind.)
*I was told at 9pm by King Ralph that he needed a fresh work shirt [by 6am], so I sit listening to the wash machine churn away.
*I can't stop thinking about the Color Guard's show uniforms I ordered and when the last five are to arrive--just a few days before the first competition.
*I can't stop wishing I could crawl back in bed for an hour after I drive zero hour car pool. No chance the window guys will be here at the crack of dawn.

Since I am already tired before I wake for the day I am thinking Chinese take-out for dinner.

Men@Work

There is a generous breeze blowing through my front windows this morning. Wait. I don't have any front windows, I have three huge open cavities with a man on a ladder standing in front of each. Oooo, I am so excited as this is the day I can say good-bye to the windows I stopped cleaning long, long ago. I would have needed a blow torch to blast the forty-two years of build up off them. After today I will be able to bend in my windows and rub them clean. I will be able to see that there are houses across the street. I will be able to spy on my neighbors--not that I have any desire to, but just in case I want to I will be able to see everything-- clearly. The sunlight will permeate through the house. The bonus in all this is someone somewhere thought it would be a good idea to give me a tax credit for my new energy efficient windows, $750.

Dancing On Tables Allowed

The "Clapper" brought me, continues to bring me so much joy I decided I needed another one of life's make-it-easier-on-yourself-gimmicks. The girls are laughing at me. King Ralph rolled his eyes when I tossed them in the shopping cart. However, I don't care how many eyes roll and how many tears develop from laughter over my special treat I purchased for myself. As I dance about I say stuff like "Seen on TV." I am loving my treat! The Slipper Genie.

M told me I needed to make a Slipper Genie dance so I could take dusting our wood floors to a whole nother level of cleaning fun and entertainment. Like dusting floors has ever been entertaining? Or fun? I worked up a whole Slipper Genie routine only to turn a spin out and see M lying at the bottom of the steps dying in laughter. There is a possibility that Slipper Genie could contribute to some weight loss and fitness training for me. I could use that.

I searched YouTube to see if anyone made a movie about the Slipper Genie. There is a multitude of them to chose from but I love Erin O'Brien's most of all. We are kindred slipper souls. Unlike Erin I got a deal minus a coupon on my Slipper Genie, just $5.99 at the Cape Girardeau Wal-Mart (they are probably cheap in case a college kid decides to buy them and clean those dorm room floors). I Googled Slipper Genie and see they also come in lime green. Mine, like Erin's, are hot pink. I painted my toe nails to match. Odds are I am as dorky as Erin while floor surfing dust in my Slipper Genie.

Wish I could spend a lot more time sharing the praises of my new footwear but I've got floors to walk and dust. And, maybe a few tables I could kick the dust off with a few of my new Slipper Genie dance moves.

Friday Night Lights

"Friday Night Lights" brings us the first Flyers home football game of the season and a winning game to boot, 24-14. Go Flyers! I love the guards new "skip-its"; not a technical or official name for those custom propeller looking apparatuses just a moniker for them given by some dude in the drum line. They look so cool as they spin in different directions and will really be awesome when they have gotten there full fashion make-over. The first football game is the beginning of a show in progress. It only gets better from here. The performance silks are soon to arrive. The performance uniforms...let's just not go there for a while--it stresses me! Funny I mention the crunch to get all the guard stuff together since, this year's show is titled "Running Out of Time".

It's Thursday

The best part of Thursday is waiting for Friday to come along. I sure could use a long weekend I am feeling woren down . It has been a week of absolute craziness of running here and there; which is just what I will do more of today. I am so ready to stretch out and relax in nature, breath in fresh [allergy ridden] air, play Yahtzee and Catch Phrase, listen to birds sing and crickets chip while living in--for the weekend--a box with my family. Oh ya, this family is going camping! We heart our camper. We'll make campfires and sing Spice Girl songs, maybe even a little Dionne Warwick (to drive King Ralph mad). We'll roast marshmallows and smash them between graham crackers. But...not till after our first football game Friday night.

Friday night football games mean going from work right to the high school were I stand bunning hair and passing out eyeshadow all in the name of Color Guard. I eat a dinner of nacho chips and cheese lard--cause everyone knows nacho cheese at a concession stand is the farthest thing from cheese. I'll be sporting my Flyer's spirit wear with my blue jeans while taking in the half time show. I'll cheer for a winning game for my alma mater. It's "Friday Night Lights".

But before I even dream of Friday I need to pack lunches, get my [expired] driver's license renewed and come up with something to cook for Thursday dinner.

Hurry up and get here Friday!

The Never Ending Saga

I have been doing the eye doctor dance with M since she was four months old. So far she has three surgeries under her belt. Nothing we love but always necessary. It's claim to a blue ribbon.

Today we will rush from high school and work to beat the traffic to make it to-- the eye doctor, again. We spend so much time chatting on the phone and in the in his office I am afraid he may want to draw straws to make M a dependant on his tax return. (I mean we eat cake in the staff lounge, with the staff.) Lately we have increased the strength of M's eye glasses, changed her contacts up and down in strength, gone from contacts to solely wearing eye glasses...nothing is working. She has a picture she snapped off TV of "Crazy Eye" from Mr. Deeds to share with our favorite doc; this is what M says she feels and looks like. I tell her "no", you are no crazy eye. You are a beautiful brown eyed girl.

M has a plan for the doc today: she'll take a life of double vision if he can make her eye not drift. I have a plan: I want it all fixed, without a fourth surgery. That's just the mother in me. Although I will do what ever it takes to make her feel whole and as humanly perfect as one can want to be.

This is one battle in life I plan on winning! Sooner than later.

Dear Lin's Friend's Uncle Tim

Dear "Uncle Tim"-

I was chatting with your favorite relative's friend last week. We discussed your feelings and opinion on flip flops in the work place--being that they have been placed on the fashion ban list at my place of employment. I asked that favorite relative of yours if I bejeweled and bedazzled my flops if that would count as "shoes you wouldn't wear in the shower". And, well, she flips me this quote on my flops in the work place from your fashion tips book Guide to Quality, Taste & Style-- it reads:'And then there's the flip-flop phenomenon. Ugh. How is it that these slabs of rubber can proliferate so, even in winter? Where is this taking our society and culture other than into a long and winding fashion decline?' Then that favorite relative of yours threw a knife at my heart and wrote this: So, flip-flops are a big NO, Jodi. Sorry. Sparkles or no sparkles. :("

Ouch! I don't just mean ouch from the knife I pulled from my flip flop loving heart but, ouch on my feet. You see "Uncle Tim" I wore some fabulous cream leather Sam & Libby chunky heeled sandals that were collecting dust in the back of my closest last week and then today I wore some adorable kitten heel black leather strappy sandals embellished with a black leather hibiscus flower...okay Uncle Tim your quote, them are fighting words. I HAVE HAD BLISTERS ON MY FEET TWICE NOW JUST SO I CAN'T BE ACCUSED OF WEARING SHOES I CAN SHOWER IN. JUST SO I CAN LOOK THE PART AND BE A RULE FOLLOWER. I HAVE BAND AIDES PLASTERED ALL OVER MY FEET. I LOOK LIKE A KINDERGARTNER WHO MET UP WITH A LAWN MOWER. I JUST DON'T LIKE YOUR FASHION RULE, YOUR DISDAIN! I NEED TO CHASE LITTLE PEOPLE ON THE PLAYGROUND (and some days dodge vomit from the kid who eats to fast).

I wanted to post a picture of my cute fashionable shoes to prove I can go outside my comfort zone. However it would be a picture of my bandaged feet covered in the sticky strips of flesh colored tape just accentuating my much needed pedicure.

Watch out world (well mostly my employer), I am ordering myself a treat and I am gonna sparkle and bling up everything that can make a "rubber can proliferate". When winter comes I might fore go on getting myself a new [replacement] pair of luscious black leather boots (last years I wore down) and wear CROCS! HA!!

So if you happen in my office and begin to think this girl hasn't moved much today...it just might be because I am hiding my comfortable feet from the Principals.

Sincerely,
The Elementary School Building Assistant with Blisters on her Feet From Fashion Forward Shoes