A Little of This And A Little of That

On Saturday I penned this:

As I woke this morning to snow...I wanted to flip Mother Nature the bird.  Really shoveling snow three times in a week is RIDICULOUS.  I am totally over telling the girls that shoveling snow builds character, or that working together toward the same goal makes me happy--it's a bunch s^*+ talk.  Truth be we are ALL together tired of loving each other over snow and the frozen tundra.  And, somehow, King Ralph is always working when all this shoveling needs to be done.  It seems shoveling snow is women's work these days.  Not just shoveling but chiseling too.  I think at the bottom of my driveway I can begin to train the girls to part of a curling team.  We have enough push brooms in the garage to rival our supply of snow shovels.

But seriously Mother Nature, ENOUGH! ENOUGH ALREADY!!

In our quest to see every Oscar nominated best picture, here's our updated viewing record:


X Black Swan
X The Fighter
X Inception
X The Kids Are All Right
X 127 Hours
X The King's Speech
X The Social Network
X Toy Story 3
X Winter's Bone I liked the movie,King Ralph did not. It was a bit slow moving, still feel the story had much more potential than they gave to it. It actually haunted my sleep being that it centers around SE Missouri.  In my opinion not exactly best picture quality.
__ True Grit

Today I pen this:

Our house is filled with tension. 

Okay maybe not tension but a whole lot of M stress

 derived from tomorrow's DECA District 9 competition. 

M's stress looks like this: 

This is how my living room has looked for the past two days;

as a scrap book is assembled.

My patience with the mess feels a bit like the room. 

All we can hope for tomorrow is lots more of those gold medals and trophies.

Adjust And Carry On

Not every day is the day you want it to be or even expect it to be.  But, somehow we always manage to carry on.  We keep on loving.

Not every wintry Monday starts out how you expect it to...then you just roll with the punches and adjust.

With that said: I scooped M off the kitchen counter (as this is where she chose to lay her head as she began to faint), chipped the thick layer of frozen wintry mix from the truck's windshield, drove D to school (which took seven times longer than it should), fixed Princess A's continuing college tuition payment aggravation issue by phone, made a doctor's appointment for M, called into work (hoping to get in there at some point today)--all by 8:26am and now...I'll get clean and sing in the shower.


Despite, I still like Mondays. Maybe just not this Monday.

Toss the Life Preserver

Don't mind me, the auto inflatable PFD vest I'm wearing under my apron is merely a safety precaution.  I feel like I'm starting to drown...okay, sinking a little.  I have so much to do. Still.  And. I need to beat the weather to get it all done. 

I don't anticipate any fire alarms, but just in case, I have my fire extinguisher close at hand.  The whistle is clinched between my teeth in case I need to summons the emergency response team--aka sleeping till noon teenagers.

I think I will catch my breath when everyone gathers around the dining room table Christmas Eve for a feast of holiday cheer. While they will be thinking meat, I'll be thinking something stiff on the rocks.

Or. Say. This.

Santa Hat Martini
1 part Malibu Rum

3 parts cranberry juice
grenadine for extra red color
dip rim of martini glass in powdered sugar/water solution
then roll glass in coconut
add mini candy cane to glass

Straight Jacket Needed

I am beginning to

TOTALLY FREAK OUT

with holiday and Tournament of Roses obligation anxiety! 

That's all I have to say today.

The Best Alarm Clock Is Sunshine on Chrome

I woke this morning at 445am, crawled out of bed at 5am to a liking of Tim Allen in Wild Hogs. There stood my man in his blue jeans, rustic orange Harley T-shirt (that he bought in San Juan over spring break, because it seems he collects Harley shirts like old ladies collect spoons on vacations), the black riding boots and...a doo rag. Oh-my-gosh what a sight! Then I went to move the car to the street so he could get the hog out of the garage and I felt rain.

Then the next layer appeared.

A rain suit.

I thought he owned a rain suit for fishing but, it turns out that when I close my eyes something new--and needed-- appears. Necessaries. Of course. Like the special underwear he bought yesterday for twenty bucks. I don't even own a pair of twenty dollar underwear. Good thing the dog only has a taste for the female undies. These golden undies are made specially for riding; I take it from the looks that the fabric is more breathable. Underwear are underwear to me. Wear a few holes in a pair of Fruit of the Looms and wa-la, breathable panties. Or better yet, stop riding, stand-up and let air circulate around saddle bound seat. There was also a special waterproof sissy bar bag (known to us females as luggage). Next there was the speakers he purchased and mounted to the handle bars to which he can play his iPod through...music, wind in the face, new luggage and fancy panties down a country highway what more can a man desire?

At 830am King Ralph woke his family with a text message picture of all the guys' Harley's resting at the gas station. D was less than impressed as she was in a sound slumber. M shakes her head and I just giggle; forwarding the message to the cousin's wife. Princess A shared some wise cracks with the gals from work which also had her doctor boss inquiring.

In the mean time I am tracking the trip through the bank. I can see how far they have traveled by where the debit card says the boys fueled.

Then we think the trip has met its high by traveling the highways and byways we get a final text picture message of Frank from the History Channel's American Pickers. Seems that King Ralph and his cousin noticed the American Pickers boys in the hotel. Next thing they know they are buying one of them a beer and chatting up a storm about the old bikes they uncover when "picking".

The girls gave King Ralph a Flip Video camera for Father's Day to record his trip and the guys attempt to mimic the Wild Hogs movie.

So while the gang of guys stretch out the celebration of fatherhood I am left home tending to a full calendar of band trivia night, band car washes, four days of summer community theater performances, dishes, laundry....

Only Bikers Know Why Dogs Stick Their Heads Out of Car Windows

I did something I swore to the good Lord above I would never do-- in order to preserve the life of one parent; ride on King Ralph's motorcycle. It was all the King really wanted for an anniversary present. So I obliged. I put on the helmet he specially bought for me, which is a cross between looking like a Storm Trooper and Transformer. Of course a gal like me cannot saddle up on a Harley without the offspring rushing out with cameras to record the moment for all time. When I first started on the ride I felt like I was on a roller coaster without a safety bar. It was kin to my fear of heights with no security boundaries. I laced my fingers through King Ralph's belt loops and locked them to my palms till the hands were purple and numb with finger nail indentations. To ease matters I stared at the back of a helmet that said "skid lid." Then suddenly when I least expected it I fell right into a comfort zone--placed my hands on my lap and let the wind hit my face as we cruised down the country roads. In front of us were King Ralph's cousin and his wife. We stopped at a wine bar that over looked the Mississippi River sat on the patio watching the Cardinal game on the outdoor screen, ate and sipped wine. Well, I sipped wine.

Next thing I know King Ralph decides he and I, along with the cousin couple are a little motorcycle gang. Another scheduled excursion for us four the following weekend was planned. There we sat on the patio of the Montelle Winery all of us sipping blackberry wine, listening to my co-worker's hubby's band sing to us on a beautiful May 30 evening.

Now this motorcycle loving brainwash needs to stop because I found myself on the back of King Ralph's bitch again heading to his sister's to swim. If my offspring weren't bad enough with cameras, my sister-in-law had to snap photos for herself as we headed home.


As Father's Day approaches the cousin-in-law and I are sending our men on a real life Wild Hogs trip. A trip like this does not welcome the wives. To which I believe deserves an--Amen!

Count Down

I don't know what possessed me to put that Christmas count down on my blog...it is putting me in a panic everytime I see it! I have so much to do. True I have shopped much, wrapped much but I am not finished. I haven't baked much, actually at all. I still have to put finishing touches on the decorating. There's the grocery shopping for the Christmas dinner too. Aaaaahhhhh!

While I stress about this the girls are in a panic about finals. D has visible signs of her finals stress--not sleeping being the biggest. King Ralph has plans of stocking up on NyQuil and after she appears in our doorway to proclaim "I can't sleep" he is going to pour her a "so I can rest" cocktail. "So I can rest" goes for both finals panic-er and the parents. Maybe we should just all have NyQuil cocktails together. Visualize: the fire place roaring, the tree glistening with its 1500 lights, King Ralph in a scarlet red smoking jacket sitting in the brown leather library chair and the family gathered together sipping--NyQuil. Man that's the kind of crap Charles Dickens story comes from.

I am not sure if I want the clock to stop and push forward?

Nevertheless I have to push forward to work. It's Monday.

It Was a Flash Gordon Morning

Since I still am not feeling like myself but have returned to work despite; I crawl back in bed every morning after I pack the girls' lunches. I sleep till the very last minute that I possibly can to still make myself look presentable to kids aged 5-11...and maybe a hand full of fellow adults.

This morning I slept through my alarm for the first time. I rolled over at 8:46am, freaked, and realized I needed to leave the house at 9:10am.

I learned today that I can brush my teeth in the shower with one hand and soap my body with the other. Luckily it was a non-wash hair day so I jazzed my frizz with a blow dryer and a round brush...then slipped a head band on. Next I slapped a little bring me back to life color on the face. Then I threw on the last clean thing hanging in the laundry room, fastened my black Mary Jane Sketchers to my feet, slapped a half sandwich together and BAM out the door by 9:09am.

I did it. Didn't care for the rush feeling but I was on time to work. In the end that is the thing that mattered most.

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.

Aaaahhhh, Monday

I am using today, Monday, as a day to recuperate from an over booked weekend of errands, trivia, 3am field trip pick-up, piano recital, event meetings, field hockey game, house cleaning...

Strange how going to work can actually become a way to relax--but that is exactly what work will be for me today. When I get there I will change the dry erase board's count down to the last day of school and summon the rain God's. The oak pollen is so thick around here you can cut it with a knife and scoop it with a shovel...a good hard rain will do us all some good!

This House Has Its CrAzY On

The girls are crazed with sister silliness. Princess A and M have bestowed each other with new nicknames--"Teacake" and "Chili Dog". So all we seem to hear echoing through the house is screams of "TEEEEEACAKE" responded with a "CHILLLLLI-DOG!"

They are sisters re-bonding--soon to be torn apart.

Then I have D being the harassing little sister chasing Teacake and Childog around the house with her smelly socks. The green knee socks can only be said to be fit for a bio hazard container. I will launder them first fitted with a pair of rubber gloves.

I think the three of them forgot to read the memo I sent out about my new flat screen TV (recessed in the wall of my bedroom ornamented with a King Ralph hand crafted oak picture frame); no one watches my TV lounged on my bed expect the top royalty--Keeper and the King.

So I find the three of them sprawled upon my bed watching one of those Hollywood award shows and messing with me...I tell you messing with me and my Clapper. I clap my hands to turn on my light and the three of them start clapping in a crazy pattern to create the epic Clapper failure. They did it again and again till I blew my stack. I just wanted light and a moment to stretch out on the bed, MY BED, and relax. Now the Clapper's mojo is off--the dam thing turns off randomly. THERE IT GOES AGAIN TURNING OFF. The Clapper is male. I swear nothing female would screw with you this much.

When I finally chased two-thirds out only to find myself once again surrounded by the whole gang of offspring as they help D practice her school musical lines. Before you know it they break out in a chorus of Summer Loving and Sandra D.

Then they return to helping D practice scene two.

All the while the Hollywood award show plays on the flat screen...Rascal Flats comes on and they all begin singing together, life is a highway I'm gonna ride it all night long (and the Clapper turns off again and one of them claps to light us up again). They are driving me nuts, mad. However, it's sweet. So sisterly.

Before you know it I am no longer annoyed that I am not relaxing in my bedroom all alone.

This company, my girls, is totally warming my heart. Every giggle. Every soured note sang.

I must part--a trio of Beauty School Dropout is on stage...and the lights have lowered, unprompted, for the occasion.

DAM CLAPPER!

ReAsoNS tHat THurSdaY HaD tO Be a BetTEr dAY

Wednesday.

I wore a lavender bra with a cream t-shirt. I had just gotten to the middle school to drop off the forgotten field trip money when I realized I forgot to change my bra to match my change in wardrobe choice. The secretary promised me you could not tell, that my t-shirt was thick enough to mask the color.

Then. This.

I exited my car, took ten steps, and my favorite sandals snapped. I was left with two choices A. walk barefoot through the office and school or B. call King Ralph to make me an emergency shoe purchase and delivery. I opted for choice B. He did good! I am the proud owner of a cute pair of black slip on Sketchers. Thank goodness I chose the black and white ensemble for the day. Bonus: the shoes are great rope jumping shoes when I feel the desire to engage in some playground fun.

Could it get any worse?

Yes.

I spent way to long combing the county for cherry red shoes to match the little black dress M will be wearing to homecoming. First we battled that $70 for a pair of shoes for a girl just shy of 16 years old was not going to happen. We settled on a pair of black shoes at Target for $27. Only then to realize I left my wallet in the car...the car I wasn't driving.

I came home changed into my PJ's, fell asleep on the couch and tried to forget that Wednesday was truly a hump day for me.

So I know you are wondering, was Thursday a better day?

Let's just say King Ralph was so good at picking out my emergency shoes that he felt brave enough to take Maddi to find her homecoming shoes...and he found the cherry red shoes at the $40 limit we set.

Amen!

Now if that doesn't make me want to fall in love all over again I don't know what would.

(Time Delayed) Reflection

Sometimes weekend events are so thrilling it is worth stopping everything to put it in black and white…sometimes it takes a while to digest all the excitement--and gain some much needed reflection energy.

THINGS TO FORGET:
1. As I prepared to head out the door so M could take her drivers permit test D informed me the dehumidifier exploded, blowing black stuff all over the floor. I needed to check this out for myself. It was more than a dehumidifier explosion it was a sewer back up. A back up on a weeks plus worth of laundry, for a family of four, just dropped in the center of the laundry room—now covered in poo. No permit attained on this day instead, I mopped and scrapped and moved at a record pace. You see I had to be at the high school in an hour and a half.
2. The lack of sleep all weekend
3. Using the Johnny-on-the-Spot...I can't even reflect it was so horrifying!

THINGS THAT FOREVER CHANGED MY LIFE:
1. Being on a coach bus with about 60 marching band girls for 4 hours; two days in a row.
2. Watching the movie Disturbia (it was agreed that this movie should have won every Oscar statue that is offered)
3. Watching the movie Fast and Furious Tokyo Drift (the band director determined the moral of this movie is that there is underground racing in every country. I determined the moral was there is bootylicious in every underground racing ring in every country)
4. Watching the movie Tremors (because nothing will scare you to death than a giant man eating earth worm)
5. Making Roaring 20’s hair-do’s for 14 on a bus while inhaling hairspray and hair gel
6. Having my own chaperon hotel room complete with a king size bed. I used all five pillows, because I could, not because I needed to. I fell asleep with the TV on. I also used every bath towel because I didn’t have to share and because I just wanted too.
7. Seeing a gas station in the KC area that read $2.99 a gallon.
8. Watching Ray the bus driver puff cigars like a smoking chimney. Then driving the bus hacking up his left lung (also driving a little fast and furious from listening to the movie while driving, screeching halts at red lights while those in row one on the bus got a better view of the windshield)
9. Taking a restroom break at the truck stop and doing a little window shopping with a band director (truck stop hats are the fashion statement of the day).

10. Dive jumping on the hotel room beds and capturing it on film (does this compromise good chaperon behavior or just make me a cool, no an insane chaperon?)

11. Leaving Jillian’s cross (she got from Granny for her first communion in my hotel room)


HAPPY ENDINGS:
1. Watching The Bucket List (a movie the adults picked for the bus ride home, thank God)
2. Not being able to finish watching Tremors (since we got back to school before the movie was half way in)
3. Winning second place in the Bluesprings Marching Competition 6A prelims, getting best effect and best solo-Jazz ensemble
4. Winning third and getting best music in the finals (it was a tough competition and the kids should be proud)

5. Coming home to cleared sewer pipes and King Ralph and D doing all the laundry (and he said for the last 21 years he did not know how to do laundry)
6. Jillian finding a replacement necklace that all I have to do is give her money to make me feel less guilty for leaving her sentimental jewelry in room 411.
7. Going to bed at 9pm on Sunday.
8. M finally getting her drivers permit on Monday

okay so I am blogging, finally

Here is the problem with my lack of blogging lately. I spend all my non-sleeping, non-working, non-chained to the wash machine, non-soliciting band parents to volunteer events hours in the high school "green room" making Roaring 20's hairstyles and pinning bra straps to red flapper dresses. These hands are so pin pricked and heavily coated with hair gel and hair spray that the fingers stick to the keyboard, so...my posts would look like this asdfjkl;;lkjfddsa. Unless someone is the holder of the secret decoder ring my blogging would make no sense to anyone other than maybe-- a Vulcan.


So we had a "free" day today. It was decided that taking a drive across the state line to pick apples seemed like a sensible form of entertainment; for four people. Why not burn that $3.58 a gallon gas, stand in the blazing sun, fight crowds of people hovering three rows of golden delicious apples for-- 8 pounds of apples that I could have bought at the top of the street from a pleasantly air conditioned grocery store (by hoofing it to boot). But it seems like it was worth it after all.


Look at the pie D baked. Looks pretty good, huh?

I'll take mine ala' mode

what is she talking about

Forget the fact I fed the girls already prepared mashed potatoes and steam fresh mixed veggies from a bag for dinner. I made this speech to my third grade lunch bunch today:

We have called you two minutes early from recess so [I] could tell you that you are all behaving in the cafeteria like you are at a pub and grill...this cafeteria is like a fine dining establishment, you should be using your indoor-I-am-at-fine-dining-establishment-voices. We do not want to hear you scream at the tables to your neighbors, we do not want to hear the pounding of a fist rattling the tables, lunch trays crashing to the ground....


Oh my gosh it's this part of my job I loathe, the cafeteria Nazi. And, since I am the one with the voice that has the volume I am always the one who steps forward to speak on behalf of my lunch team.

I think if I would have channeled my mind reading talent I would have heard some wise guy third grader saying to himself; fine dining establishment,ha, then where is my truffles, foie gras, escargot, and a bottle Saint-Geron water? Instead we were served pancakes, a sausage link, a greasy square hash brown and milk in a carton. To wipe our mouths we have napkins that are like single-ply toilet tissue. Tomorrow I am going to demand cloth, linen, napkins.

To which I would have been hard pressed not to respond, dude tomorrow your mom is brown bagging it for you; spam sandwich and Vienna sausages in the can and a bottle of tomato juice.

Or maybe I should invest in ear plugs and whistle.

To Do List

TO DO LIST

* Take out trash, check
* Do laundry, in check progress
* Go school clothes and shoe shopping, check
* Eat Auntie Ann's pretzels for dinner because I believe in healthy, balanced nutrition, check
*write an email to bosses stating how I really feel, check
* get gratifying responses, one check
*pack bag for a quick trip to Chicago and the Indiana Dunes so I can find my mind and acquire a little yin and yang, check

I'll be back soon friends. I just need a break to pump me up for the big holiday-- "back to school". Seeing my Grammy and my BFF is just what the doctor ordered!

Room 420

Somewhere between a bottle of unearthed menopause pills, a very large pink bra and sheet music for Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring (which seems slightly oxymoron, considering) --I've been holed up in a room otherwise known as "the music room".

After putting thirty-five hours, yes I said 3-5 hours, into moving, pitching, organizing, pitching more, organizing, filing, archiving, pitching, pitching and pitching... I finally relinquished myself from the very thing that was; either constipating me or driving me to drink.

I requested my name badge to be engraved with the name "Neicy Nash", as it seems more fitting since I agreed (obviously at a moment of either weakness or complete oblivion) to whip a certain music teacher's classroom clutter into Clean House heaven. Today when I got to the point where what I was thinking in my mind came out like a twisted pretzel with strands of drool dripping out of the corner of my mouth --I knew it was time to stop. And, not just stop but, walk away telling myself job well done.

Now I am not sure what the remaining and final tasks outcome will be--I left a canvas similar to a paint-by-numbers art creation as a guide. All I know for certain is one of us is most certainly going to her collection of classic rock tunes to sing-- Free Bird.

I wonder who feels more Free Bird-ish me or the music teacher?

When I Talk to Myself It Sounds Like This

Keeper: Jo. You don't mind if I call you call Jo do you?

Me: Of course not, my brother calls me Jo all the time.

Keeper: You have quite a set of bags under your eyes.

Me: Thanks for noticing, not!

Keeper: What's up girlfriend?

Me: well I had a case of insomnia last night, fell asleep at 2am...it's a hormone thing and,

Keeper: You really should get to the gyno for a check up of those hormones.

Me: excuse me [self] I was not finished.

Keeper: Sorry.

Me: The thunderstorm was wild and King Ralph was...well I can best describe my broken slumber at 6am, that was hard to get, with this childhood limerick: it's raining, it's pouring the old man is snoring.

Keeper: You should have nudged him to roll over, maybe pinched his nose. Back to the gyno check-up.

Me: I did nudge King Ralph, I pinched his nose but my old man didn't budge. One of us doesn't have a hormone imbalance. And, if you'd like to know I made an appointment for today with my favorite gyno (since my reminder card said your last visit was 5/23/06) and then Aunt Flo came to town unexpectedly and I had to cancel. Believe me I was okay with it. I hate throwing my legs up in the silver stir-ups with my who-ha flashing at a man with a pair of rubber gloves. You know what, I am not discussing this with you any further. I'm tired, slightly crabby and I HATE the gyno. So there!

Volunteer Insanity

That glass of wine the band's president bought me tonight after the board meeting is feeling...well, well deserved.

Last I night I shuffled papers, emailed...till 1am. Tonight I am shuffling papers and emailing potential volunteers again. Still. To add to my insanity I am placing orders for supplemental guard uniform pieces (duffel bags and fleece jackets, gloves and tights). I want to shuffle papers in the peace and quiet of my home but for some reason unknown to me my daughters think summer break means an all night television fest. Silence is my favorite sound. You know when you can hear the hum and a buzz in your ear. It ain't happening.

So as time slips into the wee hours of the morning I have an idea. Will someone come over here knock me out, throw me in the car and send me to the mountains? If not I suppose I shall continue to shuffle this never-ending stack of forms.