Going Postal

Sitting here minding my own business, feverishly working, trying hard NOT to blow a deadline on about a thousand designs for a new product line when I hear a faint beeping. Sounds like down the street. Doesn't even warrant a turn around (my back faces the window looking out the front of the house). There is lots of traffic on my road and someone beeping is not news. Sometimes friends will beep as they drive by. If I turned around every time that happened A) I would get no work done and B) I would have whiplash. Daily.

Still working. Hear beeping again. Peaks my interest slightly. I turn around. Nothing.

Working. Beep again. Longer laying on the horn. Now, I get up out of my chair to see if I can actually lay my eyes on the asshole with the horn fetish. Look left. Nothing. Look right, towards the driveway. BINGO. Mail truck pulled all the way into the driveway.

But. Wait.
Is the Mail Man BEEPING FOR ME??

I mean fucking laying on the horn??!!

The front door is OPEN - so he KNOWS I'm home. The glass door is locked but the door bell works. I walk down the stairs and out the front door. Large black man.

He is BEHIND his truck.

"Not sure that were ACTUALLY beeping for me."

Hesitantly walking toward me, "I thought I saw a dog at the front door."

I choked on the sour cream and onion potato chip I had in my mouth, "Its a cat."

"Well, it looked like a dog."

"Its NOT, its a cat. AND he's on the inside of the house. With the door shut. Even if it were a dog - there's a glass door between you."

"Looks like a dog."

"Well, he might bite you - but I don't have a dog."

"One of the other postmen got bite by a dog in this town yesterday."

"Its not a dog."

"Whatever."

"You BEEPED for me to come out. I still can't believe that."

"We have to be EXTRA careful." Gets in mail truck drives away. I'm almost certain I saw his balls behind the trash can.

Ya know why people go POSTAL at the Post Office?? Because they hire fucking retards, that's why.

Here's a picture of the ferocious CatDog.



I mean - the fact that he might be GAY is scary. But, he's not a dog.

Because He FINALLY Gave Me An Idea

He casually mentioned he has always wanted a foosball table.

Eureka - we have a GREAT gift idea.
Here's what I got him.



And because I KNOW now that he bought me something big and shiny - I bought him this watch to wear on SPECIAL occasions.



How'd I do??

"Uhhhh...Hello?"

*rrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnngggggg*

(Look at caller ID - see that it says a Jewelry store name that rhythms with Rays)

"Uh...Helllllo?"

*hesitation - stumbling over words* "Can I speak to Mr. So Buying My Wife A Nice Anniversary Gift please?"

ITS THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY PEOPLE - DO YA THINK HE'S HOME??

"Um no he's not, he's at work, can I take a message please?"

(PANIC - TOTAL PANIC - I COULD SEE HER FACE) "Uh No, I mean, ok, alright, tell him Rays called."

I assume they were supposed to call his cell or work number. I think she realized this AFTER I answered - I heard the mad flipping through paperwork. I can only imagine a huge red marker across the top that said SURPRISE DON'T CALL WIFE.

Looks like my day is already looking better. I'll post what I bought him later - I have to go work on my surprised face.

My Hard Drive - She is Fucked

Yes. Sad isn't it?

Would it be less sad if it was just a LITTLE hard drive. No ma'am. This here was a Big 'Ole 160Gig EXTERNAL (this part will come in handy later when I tell of how I THREW it out the second story window) Hard Drive. An external one - so if my computer craps out, I can still work on my laptop or somewhere else. Good plan.

Full of meaningless crap you ask? Oh NOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Pictures of the kids? Nope.

Work stuff? 6 months worth of endless hours that you can never get back? That WHEN (not IF - cuz it ALWAYS happens) the client calls and would like to revisit job such-and such - I will be up ALL night trying to recreate FREE OF CHARGE?

Yes, THAT hard drive.

You couldn't be THAT dumb to not have it backed up, you say. Wrong again. Although, in my defense - I TRIED fruitlessly ALL DAY to burn DVDS of crap off there - only to be shut down at every turn.

Want to know what the SADDEST part is?

I've seen this movie before my friends.

I have LIVED this particular nightmare once before. I had MUCH, MUCH more on the drive back then. And I after I realized I could not resurrect it - I called a professional to give me a drink and then I called The Tech Dork. The Tech Dork TRIED to concentrate over my endless wailing (whaling??) to help me - but alas, he could not. I called for the last hope. A company out in CA who swore they could get back ANYTHING. I sobbed on the phone and through broken sentences, due to sniffles, asked the guy how much this particular fuck-up of mine might be.

"You said it was a 120g Hard Drive?" (I had a SMALLER one back then)

*sniff, snort* "Ye - es"

"Well, if we recover it all - which I think we can - $4000.00"

"Are you fucking serious?!"

"You don't want your stuff back?"

"OK. Thanks. Do I at least get french kissed first?!"

"What?."

"Never mind."

But, it turns out the conversation (and getting my hopes up) were for nothing because they called the next day and told me they could not recover a single file. Not one. Not even the pic of my kids. No charge.

That week, was probably to lowest point in my life. I cried ALL DAY. I was SO depressed. I vowed to NEVER let such things happen again. I will BACKUP regularly. And I did. For a while.

*sigh*

Here we are...AGAIN.

I went to OfficeMax to buy a new drive. I hoped that Good Karma put out by yours truly, might prove to help the situation. I held doors, I let someone go ahead in line, I smiled (fake, but WHATEVER). I MAY OR MAY NOT have been overheard on my cellphone saying that I was BEYOND the point of snapping. That would account for everyone taking 2 steps back and the cashier with the mace in her hand. WHATEVER.

I raced home with my new drive all portable and what-not and plugged it in. There it was all shiny on my desktop. But the info on the old drive - NOT. COMING. OFF. Whore. My heart sank. Off to bed - crying - hopeless. Nothing but a cigarette would help. Seriously. I didn't have any, since I quit like, forever ago. But I WOULD have. Down to the filter.

Didn't sleep. Tossed and turned. Up VERY early. With a glimmer of hope, I booted up the Old Girl and ya know what????

She sang. She purred. I promised to touch her like he liked and she gave up all the FILES. All of MY FILES. I copied them over and burned them to DVD. I even smiled (real this time).

I got everything off the drive and reformatted it and made it like brand new. Only its not. Its tainted. But do I heed the little voice in my head screaming "Don't trust it. It left you once, it will do it again." No. I do not. I copy a bunch of shit back onto it. But something makes me call my very mild-mannered work friend (read here he is very proper - no swearing kinda guy). I give him the abbreviated version of this story (I bet you WISH you were him) and I wait for his response to my inquiry of whether he would use the drive or not.

"Are you fucking KIDDING me?!" Mild Mannered Co-worker asks.

Stunned. I have never heard him talk like that. I begin to hysterically laugh.

"So, what your saying is - I'm an asshole?!" I ask.

"Get rid of the drive. Buy a new one. They are a couple hundred bucks." GOSH. (I can kinda hear him saying it like Napolean Dynamite)

So I threw it out the window, barely grazing the lawn guy. Sorry Lawn Guy - It's not you, its me.

I swear I'll learn my lesson THIS time.

Ouch My Neck

I am barely recovered from my all night metal, whiplash inducing, bang your head, index and pinkie fingers thrust to the sky, night of viewing VH1.

WOW. THIS 80's girl had herself a night to remember.

It started off with the show Super Group, Tivo'd of course, because DH KNOWS about these things. They put together Ted Nuggent, Sebastian Bach from Skid Row (GOD I STILL want to jump on him REPEATEDLY),



Evan Seinfeld from Biohazard (and now a porn star - Eww, Eww, throw up in my mouth a little), Scott Ian from Anthrax (the one with the long beard), and Jason Bonham, son of famous Led Zepplin drummer. Thrown together with infamous manager Doc McGhee (who brought us Motley Crue, Bon Jovi and KISS just to name a few), they are supposed to come together - egos crashing - to form a band and in 2 weeks time play a show. SOMEONE bring back REAL rock and ROLL!!!!! I would SO go to this show.

Next on the Tivo list was another VH1 special - The Story of Metal. With too many burnt-out rock stars to mention - its a chronicle of the biggest bands and the start of what they call METAL - I, personally call it Rock and Roll.

Its like going back to my childhood and reliving all those concerts I went to then. I mean, I went to EVERY concert that came to town. Granted the tickets were a mere $10.50 a ticket. And $20 bucks would get ya in the door and a three-quarter sleeve rock concert shirt. Oh, don't act like you didn't HAVE one. You know you DID. And yes I STILL have a few. But then again, I have seen a few concerts in the last few years. KISS (more than once), Kid Rock with Aerosmith and Run DMC (before the incident), Tesla (with my sister and a little too much alcohol), Motley Crue to name a few. You say has-been, I say hours of play on my IPod.

As the shows were nearing an end and my eyes were growing heavy, a commercial for an upcoming show comes on the TV. It seems Poison and Cinderella (two bands I will admit to liking but certainly not worthy of STILL playing out as their music is more dated than an 8-track) are playing our area soon.

I say to DH, "Wow, they are still playing, huh? That first album of Poison's is really bad. I TRIED to put it on my IPod and even I COULDN'T do it."

As DH rolls over to shut the light, he says "If Poison was playing in the woods and no one was there to hear them, would they still suck?"

Indeed they would. But at this point I'd rather kill off the HipHop and bring me back some long hair, make-up wearing, guitar string bending, mind blowing, ear-drum popping ROCK AND ROLL. Even if they have to play in the woods.

P is for......

We are officially taking applications for the newly formed "club". I really, really want to say gang - but I believe we might be a smidge too old for the ripped jeans and brass knuckles. Our new group, recently named by Blue, as the Pussy Posse, hereby needs some officers. As well as a few other things.

First on the list:

We need to appoint President, Vice President and Treasurer. Obviously all minutes are noted in this forum - so screw the Secretary...wait...ok, no, no that's right...Screw The Secretary. Duties will range - so we'll list them as we go along.

We need t-shirts. Anyone? Anyone? Blue? Sherry?

We need a slogan. A tagline if you will. Something snappy. Slick.

There are a few more, but let's start with that.

I welcome ALL Mommybloggers. All Women and All Men. Cuz, seriously everyone likes pussy, no? Join now. Say it loud. Say it proud.

Big Shocker Friday

Shocking events too crazy not to list for you all. Sarcasm at it finest, no?

1. Its raining. Again. Hasn't it already been 40 days and 40 nights. Christ. NOW I have to finish the ark.

2. My kids are sick. Again. No? Really? Cuz its only been like 3 weeks straight. I'm certain DCS will be arriving at my door to see if my kids are working the Meth Lab again.

3. We have a busy weekend planned. Full of birthday parties, soccer games and the like. Oh joy.

4. I am officially done teaching for the semester. Two words. Thank. God.

5. Is the kids school year nearly over YET?! Because I am DONE with the projects and the reports and the activities and field days and Celebrations and Art Shows. OK?! Ok.

6. All the Tamagotchis are dead. *snickering*

7. It is a rule that the roses your daughters receives will last 2 weeks while the ones you get bend at the neck right after you put them in water.

8. I will beat the crap out of anyone who fucks with my sister.

There. I'm done. Anyone else shocked? I didn't think so.

Need Some Ideas

My 10 year Wedding Anniversary is rapidly approaching.

Its in less than a month. On the one hand, I can hardly believe its been that long already and on the other I can't believe its not our 25th. It feels like we've known each other forever. And though there are still days when I hold myself back from smothering him with the pillow, most days are really great. We have grown together over the last decade (decade?? is that CRAZY) and we have worn the carpet, sort to speak, and are very comfortable with one another. Some might be a tad uncomfortable with our degree of comfort - but that's another story. He is my Soulfreak. There's no one else, in the whole wide world, I would rather poke fun at others with.

So. This is a BIG Anniversary. I want to do something SPECIAL. I know (because I have left him countless hints) that he is looking for a special piece of jewelry for me. I have made some plans.

I have made a reservation for us to go to the Mohegan Sun Casino hotel for a sleepover (no sleeping allowed - what for the arm and leg they charge - we are having sex EVERYWHERE... WITH THE CURTAINS OPEN... sorry too much?!) Ahem. I have booked us a couples massage. For one hour. Glorious. I have reservations at the swanky Italian Restaurant (do you hear Billy Joel in there?? Bottle of red..... bottle of white...). And I have tickets for the comedy show to see Roseanne Barr. As stated above, we LOVE to laugh - so this should be REALLY fun. Of course, we will be gambling. Especially the roulette table which is already calling my name...... oh sweet spinning orb of numbers - Mamma needs a new PRADA!! And there is shopping and countless other things to enjoy. WITHOUT CHILDREN. BY OURSELVES. We can get silly drunk and stumble back to the room - no driving. No responsibilities. Kinda like being single again or at least before the kids. It will be FREEING. I. Can't. Wait.

BUT. I need a gift. Something to give him to tell him he's my special freak and there are no other freaks above him. That I love him more than anything and I would die without him. (And the award for Most Dramatic goes to Sharpie..... *roar of the crowd*) ANYWAY. Do you have ANY good ideas. I don't have a budget - so blue skies people. Any one? Any one? Buehler?

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To My Blog

When I started this blog, back in February (I can't believe its not longer than that) I did so with no expectation. I had read my sister's blog for a while. How about I snooped until I found her blog. (Yes, I Googled her). I was reading it and felt....intrusive. I admitted to finding her and asked if I could read it - if she said no - I was happy to except that. She didn't say no. If nothing, I had learned stuff about her she might never have actually said to me. I felt her pain through all of it. I cried with her at my monitor. And laughed out loud at other times.

I also met some of her friends via her link of wonderful women. Again, I felt intrusive. Never leaving a comment - who was I to be snooping around their lives. A lurker among lurkers. I thought what courage these women have to lay out their lives before anyone and everyone. And they were funny. My God. And these women could WRITE. I always knew my sister had a gift for writing as I could call her and be like, "I need an articulate way to say this... punctuation non-existent, garbled mess" and she would write a masterpiece. I am envious of her skills. And these women she had found. Articulate. Composed. Funny as hell. Honest and raw. Women who you would be IRL friends with if given the chance. Though I doubt I would have tried, I wouldn't feel up to par.

And then I decide I'll write some thoughts. Some stories. Some way to remember what happened last week. If only she and I read it - well at least I could reciprocate and tell her (via the blog) some things I couldn't say to her. My deep dark secrets if you will.

What I didn't expect was all of you. My new friends. How can I even express what it is like to go to a blog you read daily and expect to find a funny story and you see your name there? And all the nice things people have said. WOW. I am truly blown away. My sister wrote the most amazing post to me and I don't feel worthy of such things. I re-read it three times. I cried each time. Because.... I don't deserve it first of all, and... I could never have written anything that nice - ever.

I sat there thinking. I have no Real Life friends who would ever say those things to me. I don't think any of them even think that way - let alone would ever say it. I have a really hard time accepting compliments. I have an even harder time when someone does something really nice for me. I am amazed by it. In awe, if you will. I don't know why. Part of growing up as a really scared kid, afraid to do anything because it would be wrong anyway? Maybe. But I'm grown - you'd think I could see my own self-worth. But I can't. Or should I say - I couldn't.

Thank you my new friends. Thank you for exceeding my expectations. Thank you building my character. Thank you for forcing me to see myself as worthy. I am forever grateful. Thank you Blue. Thank You Michele. Thank you Carol. Thank You LaLa (Who gave me my first shout out on Julia's blog). Thank you Sis. I love you most of all.

Happy Mother's Day One And All!

Hopefully, you husbands and children have something wonderful planned for you all on Sunday. I have heard whispers around here that there is a present stashed somewhere around here and well, I just don't have the energy to look. Normally, I would. I hate surprises. AND my husband can't keep a secret.

I am planning, for the mothers in my life, a Mother's Day Brunch on Sunday. Except for my MIL, because she's a whole different kind of mother, if you know what I mean. She's not coming. Because she came last weekend for the Communion. Whatever. Let me know go too far down that road, lest my DH ever find my blog.

Its really more of a breakfast than a brunch, as my lurvly new-mom-herself sister pointed out. French toast, omelets, blueberry pancakes, sausage, bacon, fruit, quiche, and rolls with deli meats galore. I LOVE breakfast. It's my favorite meal. And I LIKE to cook it. Especially the bacon, cuz it needs to be cooked just right. Not too hard, not too chewy. (Control freak much?)

I did find a little something for my mom as well. I was really struggling to find something A) practical, B) unique C) affordable, D) without putting a gun to my head. I opted for jewelry, a cute little pendant that says Grandma on it, as we have already bought her every Mom item known to man and I think I've only seen them on her like twice. I also found a little something for my sister - but shhh don't tell her. She actually LIKES surprises.

Ok, off to go build my ark, as the weather man predicts 6 inches of rain in the next two days. Cuz, I NEED to get to the grocery store.

And to all my Mom Friends out there...... Happy Mother's Day and may your bacon be cooked just right.

Search Engine Sludge

I have been known to Google.
OK. OK. I Google everything. EVERYTHING.
I LOVE Google.

I am slightly addicted.
Is that an oxymoron - Slightly Addicted?
Whatever.

I have been known to Google illnesses, projects, pictures and more.

But. BUT, BUT, BUT. There are some people who find my blog by way of a search engine. And *sigh* I feel the need to shout out to these people...

1. EVERYONE searching "Mother Of The Year". STOP IT! There is no such thing. No one is perfect. We ALL make mistakes with our kids. And anyone who looks perfect on the outside - I guarantee kicks their dog. Take up something else that can occupy more of your time - like American Idol.

2. Those searching fashion advice, i.e. Cocktail Attire, Leggings and Shoes. I suggest you find someone more qualified . I only have my degree in Making Fun Of Others . Sorry. (Not really)

3. To the Mom That Is Not Invited to Your Daughters Wedding....Ouch. I guess you need to ask yourself why, right? Perhaps you should acquaint yourself with your past and not my blog if you are looking for an invite. Or did you hear I make invites? I knew I was never getting rid of the invite business.

4. To the woman who thinks she's a bad mother. *stands* Hi. My name is Sharpie. (ALL - Hi Sharpie) Here's a coaster - have a drink. Have two. I find it takes the edge off.

5. And for the mom looking for cupcakes that look like pigs...WHY?
No matter. Here. ( I Googled them for ya)



6. And for all of the following....I jerked off in front of my sister, I f@#ked my mother/sister/the dog next door, My sister's tits, Anything concerning daughters and begging for it - GET FUCKING HELP, YOU SICK FUCKS. AND, its not that kinda show here. MOVE THE FUCK ON AND DON'T COME BACK. Call a therapist. Seriously.

I need to go scratch my minds eye out now. And take a shower. Ewww.

Like, TOTALLY.

Actual conversation had over a bowl of tuna and cheese. Yes, Lil Man shares my love of tuna and mayo with a sprinkle of cheese hold the bread. Shut up, its good.

"Mom, how old are you?"

"34. Why?"

"Oh man! I put down 43!"

"WHAT?! How OLD do you think I am kid?"

"Well, at least I got the numbers right."

(Apparently, Miss Thing is not the only child with dyslexia.)

"Who did you tell I was 43?"

"My teacher. And my class."

Now I am talking like a Valley Girl to him..."SHUT UP! You told them THAT? Like, I am totally not that old."

He is hysterically laughing. "Yes I did."

Still using Valley speak... "Like, why?"

"Mother's Day stuff, its for..."

I cut him off..."LALALALALALA I'm not listening - you'll ruin it - you're a ruiner"

He's laughing even harder now. He's still trying to tell me, but can't get anything out with me LALALAing.

"Well, at least I'll know how old you are when you're 21."

"Too late bucko - that ship has sailed."

"You were already 21?"

Again with the Valley talk,"Like a HUNDRED years agooooo."

"Well, then at least I'll get it right when you're 50."

"SHUT YO' MOUTH. I'm never getting THAT old."

Laughing and turning back to his tuna and cartoons. "Ya, if you live that long."

There's only one of us he needs to be concerned with making it to another birthday - wise ass kid. Can't imagine where he gets it.

Puke, Cake and Jesus In Your Mouth - Not Necessarily In That Order

(Warning: This post is full of gross details on this weekend's encounters as well as a slew of inappropriate Catholic speak - so for the faint of heart - Move On.....Cuz I don't want any emails/comments about how I shouldn't say what I am about to say.)

Ok.

For the rest of you. You are in for a special treat - because this weekend was FULL of the stuff that makes for a reason to blog. And to help you understand the Freak Show that is my life, I have decided to give you a timeline - ala OJ Simpson trial.

Thursday, May 4th - I blew off work. Went to buy the flowers. Planted them, weeded the yard, and took out all of my garden statues to decorate the yard. I attempted raking, but decided that if I did any more I might actually snap the next persons neck I saw. I did however dig through and clean the dining room - and may have discovered Jimmy Hoffa's body - forensics still out.

Here's my favorite garden piece...


I was feeling pretty good, since I had checked a few things off my list. I still had to clean the whole house, minus the dining room, bake the cake, get last minute items, bake the cake, clean the deck tables, bake the cake...you get the idea.

Perhaps I wouldn't be obsessing over the cake if my husband had not said to me no less than 8 times that I should have ordered a cake. Why? You don't think I can do it? Are you nervous? No, he says as he's dialing his brother to pick up 2 dozen pastries from the Italian Bakery. Wow, what a confidence booster, huh?

Friday, May 5th at 1:00 - Hubby calls to tell me - very CASUALLY - that FYI - he's working on Saturday. WHAT the gray fuck?! Are you kidding me I ask? Are you trying to make me jump off the roof I ask BECAUSE I AM THIS CLOSE ALREADY!! Not that I can't clean and bake myself - GOD NO - I don't need him for that. BUT - Lil Man had a soccer game and we, as a family, had a 50th Birthday party to attend at night. SEE? NOT a lot of time to get all that other stuff done and my cloning machine is in the shop. I am ready to FREAK!!

Friday at 6:00pm - go to final Communion Rehearsal (mandatory parent stays - guess who? guess who?) As I listen the to RE administrator giving the kids a pep talk about how to receive the wafer, how it is special and sacred. "You are not to chew with your mouth open. Do not ever take it out of your mouth. After all, it IS JESUS in your mouth". Ah, WHAT?! Not that I wasn't paying attention, but that snapped my head around in a hurry. AND YES, I already know I am going straight to hell for laughing about it. Jesus in your mouth - now that's FUNNY. Not to mention since the Easter season, they took Jesus off the cross. Bare cross. No Jesus up there. I kept inquiring where he was. Where do the KEEP him when not on the cross. In a closet? I may or may not have said the priests bed. WHATEVER. Straight to hell in a handbag. (Please let it be PRADA)

Friday, May 5th at 12:00PM MIDNIGHT - bedroom door opens. Lil Man standing there. MOM? Yes? I just puked in my bed. Oh FREAKING WONDERFUL! Next few hours spent cleaning sheets, walking back in forth from room to room. My Lil Man had the stomach bug BAD. Hubby - in bed ASLEEP AND SNORING - because he had to work the next day.

Friday 3:00AM - I am watching Agnes of God on TV and plotting where I can dig in the back yard to bury my husband and just throw a tarp over so no one notices during the Communion party.

Saturday, May 6th - Cleaned house (see hid most stuff - dusted the rest). And baked the CAKE.


Top of the cake








I was VERY happy with the way it came out.
Fuck him and his pastries.

Saturday, May 6th - Lil Man was still unable to hold anything down, including the chicken nuggets my rocket scientist husband fed him while I ran out to buy suck your fat ass in nylons at the mall. No party for them. Miss Thing and I went to the 50th Birthday Party and had ourselves a nice time in spite of ourselves.

I made the call to leave Lil Man home for all the festivities on Sunday. My dad and BIL stayed with him so we could go to church and out to dinner before returning home for my AWESOME cake and coffee (and yes pastries.) Lil Man was very happy with the arrangement - as he only wanted to lie on the couch and nap. Poor baby. Otherwise, the whole day was beautiful. Miss Thing made out like a bandit. (The biggest perk of being part of a Catholic Italian Family). Money and jewelry were the only gifts.

Thank Jesus (in my mouth) its over.

In A Frenzy To Get Stuff Done

As I mentioned before, Sunday is Miss Thing's 1st Holy Communion. If you are not catholic - then let me help by saying...ITS A VERY BIG DEAL!! There is much practice, rehearsal and preparation to make this look like a seemingly effortless event. Each child has a "job". Something that is their very own to do on their special day. My daughter was very distraught because no one seemed to know what her "job" was.

She told me it was a Bear Symboler. A WHAT?! A Bear Symboler. Don't worry Mom, no one else knows what it is either.

Huh? That doesn't even SOUND like something for a Communion. A circus MAYBE.

So, I seek out a teacher, not HER teacher, as I loathe the air SHE breathes.
And I repeat the job name. Bear Symboler. The teacher, trying desperately to stifle the laugh that is surely coming up says, "Do you mean Symbol Bearer?" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Yes, I think that must be it. It seems they bring the SYMBOLS of the eucharist up during collection. Okey Dokey then.

ADDED TO MY CHECKLIST OF THINGS TO DO:
1. Clean the Dining Room as it is the pit of all existence.
2. Clean all other rooms including basement
3. Make cake
4. Plant flowers in pots outside
5. Buy plants to plant outside
6. Fix part of Veil/headband
7. Try on MY dress to make sure it still fits - UGHHHHHHH
8. Clean off deck tables - POLLEN crap.
9. Oh YEAH - WORK
10. Check Miss Thing for dyslexia.

Starting to slightly freak out. Slightly.

A Glimpse Into The Future

Yesterday I saw a moment. A small window into my future.
And I won't lie, it made my eyes well up - just as it is now, talking about it.

We had pictures for 1st Holy Communion.
She put on her beautiful dress, the one that makes her look like a mini-bride. She slid on her nylons and her shoes. She put on her pearls - which are only a few now - but as each year passes, another is added. And lastly the veil. She was stunning.



And I couldn't help but think.... that in 15, 20 years... I can't even write it.
I can't imagine a day when I don't see that face every day.