The One About the Pair of Prehistoric Pests

August 5th, 2010

I don’t know what my deal is, I really don’t, but every time I try to release the emergency parking break in the car, I pop the hood instead.  And I’m not sure, by the way, why I always set the emergency break whenever I turn off the ignition.  It’s a habit, I guess.  I mean, It’s not as if my 2,000 pound vehicle is going to roll off the flat parking lot of the grocery store, gym, or library.

But I don’t think I’ll ever set the emergency break again since this afternoon, after having to hop out of the car to shut the hood, my soul was permanently scarred when I saw these suckers.

The bodies of these beasts are at least the size of my big toe.  AT LEAST!

And their wing span is at least 7 inches.  AT LEAST!

I guess it’s a good thing hoods have those hooks which keeps them from flying in your face while you drive.   I mean,  there was no way I was getting anywhere near those prehistoric pests in order to heave down that hood.  No way.

David doesn’t know it, but when he gets home, he is so picking out those cooties from my car.  I bet he’ll savor every single second of it, too.  

I bet he even preserves the bug bodies so he and the boys can pluck their whopping wings and smooch their monstrous toe carcasses.  I can’t tell you how many insects, worms, and beetles David has given them to inspect and destroy because as David says, that’s what boys do.

But that’s another blog for another day.

“How Can I Kill It, If I Don’t Spray It?”

August 4th, 2010

“Don’t spray yourself in the face,” she hollered to her oldest son behind the barrier of her closed front door, my mother-in-law.

“I’m not going to spray myself in the face,” David muttered while gripping the can of bug spray she just shoved in his hand.  And then, he sprayed himself in the face.

“I told you to be careful not to spray yourself in the face,” she said again, but this time, she cracked the door an inch to ensure he heard her.

“I know, mom,” David sighed. “Let’s just do this all ready.”

We had barely pulled into his parents’ driveway before Denise shared with us her plan to evict the wasps who recently built a nest in the wreath hanging from her front door, but she needed David’s help to implement it.

“I’ll stand inside the house and slam the door over and over again,” she said, “while you, David, spray the wasps as they fly away.”

That’s your plan,” David groans.  “You just want me to stand there and try to spray them as they attack me?  Why don’t I just spray the wreath?”

“NO!  You can’t spray the wreath,” she quips, “the spray will ruin it.”

“But the wreath is fake,” David grumbles.

“I know!  And the spray will ruin it,” she bellows back.

So the plan began.  And Denise took her place inside, and David took his outside.

“GET ‘EM! GET ‘EM!,” Denise hollers after slamming the door the first time,“BUT DON’T USE TOO MUCH SPRAY! WE ONLY HAVE ONE CAN!”

“MOM!” David screams while swiping and spraying, “ THIS CAN HOLDS TWO GALLONS!  DO YOU PLAN ON KILLING ALL THE WASPS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD?”

“NO, WE’RE NOT KILLING ALL THE WASPS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD!  BUT IF IT’S ON THE FLOOR, JUST STEP ON IT, DON’T SPRAY IT,” she screams while slamming the door a second time.

“GET ‘EM! GET ‘EM!, she shrieks, “BUT DON’T USE ALL THE SPRAY!”

 “MOM! HOW CAN I KILL IT, IF I DON’T SPRAY IT,” David bellows back while dodging another attacker. “I’LL BUY YOU ANOTHER CAN!”

 The next thing I know, Denise grabs a broom and books it outside.  “DON’T TOUCH THE WREATH,” she instructs David, “YOU’LL RUIN IT!”

“MOM!  I’M NOT GOING TO RUIN IT,”  David shouts.  “JUST LET ME TAKE IT OFF THE DOOR SO I CAN DESTROY THE NEST!”

Denise finally agrees and David removes it from the front door.

“BE CAREFUL!  THERE’S LIKE 100 WASPS IN THAT NEST,” She snaps.

“MOM!  HOW CAN THERE BE 100 WASPS IN THE NEST WHEN THERE ARE ONLY 9 HOLES IN IT AND IT’S THE SIZE OF A QUARTER,” David shouts as he finally knocks off the wasp refuge and smashes it with his shoe.

“Oh, well maybe it was more like 9 or 10,” she admits.  “It seemed like 100 yesterday.”

And that was the day David and Denise dueled the wasps in the wreath.

Eye Think This Says It All

August 2nd, 2010

“One Rarely Sees What Is Right In Front Of Them,” is what this framed Eye Chart piece from Z Gallerie reads.  I think this is such a clever message in a fun and modern format, and here’s the best part:  it costs less than $40.

You Say Tomato, I Say Canker Sore.

August 1st, 2010

It’s been one week since I shopped at Sam’s Club and popped that huge carton of cherry tomatoes into my cart.  And I’ve been shoving handfuls of the mini fruits in my mouth ever since.  

I eat tomatoes and eggs in the mornings.  I eat tomatoes on salads in the afternoons.  I eat tomatoes and hummus for snacks.  And I eat some sort of tomato side with whatever meal I make for dinners.  But no matter how many fist fulls of the fruits I consume, that tub of tomatoes never ends.  Never.

It wasn’t until Friday when my gums were red and raw and a couple of cankers were created that I began to question all the produce I’ve been pounding.  So I did what any good researcher would do and Googled it. 

I started to type in the three words, ’are tomatoes acidic’, into the Google tool bar, you know the one.  It’s the one you type your question into and then, in case you’re interested, the search engine gives you the top 10 tomato related questions others have wondered in the resent past. 

And here they are. 

Is it just me, or are you wondering too what is wrong with people?

I have, in the meantime, discovered tomatoes are acidic and can cause raw gums and canker sores when consumed in large quantities.  I guess 40 to 50 cherry tomatoes a day falls into the large quantity category.  Thanks Google for the handy dandy information. 

Now, I just need to Google why people are so obsessed with feeding tomatoes to their dogs.

Husbandism #20

July 29th, 2010

David:  “Well, he deserves it.  I mean, he’s wearing a v-neck t-shirt.”

What David said about the latest contestant who was eliminated from So You Think You Can Dance.

Let Me Introduce You to The Slowest Runner Ever

July 29th, 2010

‘This can not be good for me,’  I think to myself as I gasp to catch my breath.  My lungs feel as if they’re about to explode and I’m pretty sure I’m going to puke any second.  And yet, I continue to force one foot in front of the other because that’s what you do at boot camp. 

I recently joined the hard core fitness group, which meets 3 mornings a week, in a desperate attempt to evict the last 10 pounds of baby blubber from my body.  But after the first day of running in circles for nearly 45 minutes on an indoor track, I’m already having second thoughts, especially since I’m the slowest. runner. ever. 

Okay, who am I kidding?  What I do could never be classified as running.  One might refer to it as a sluggish skip.  Or perhaps, a walk with a half hop every second step.  Whatever it is, it’s pretty pathetic.  And to prove it, I was lapped again, and again, and again, by every person in the class.

And it’s not as if I’m completely out of shape.  I bike 10 to 15 miles a couple times a week, and I also take kick boxing and weight training classes from the gym I attend several times a week.  I just had no idea how slow of a runner I was until  I joined this boot camp class.  And now that I do, I really wish I didn’t.  I mean, who wants to be the slowest. runner. ever?

But don’t worry.  I may be a slow runner, but I’m not a runner who quits.  I’ll run every lap the rest of the boot campers do, it’ll just take me a little longer.  Okay, who am I kidding?  A lot longer.

Husbandism #19

July 27th, 2010

David:  “Cover me up and you won’t even notice.  Sheets are just like Saran Wrap.”

What my husband said after I told him he was so ripe he needed to take a shower before bed.

Everything Skinny Scares Me

July 25th, 2010

Everything skinny scares me.  Everything.

Example #1:  Skinny Lattes.  I mean, have you seen the milk used to make that drink?  Some call it skim.  I called it gross.  There’s no way that cloudy water posing as the liquid cows create will ever touch my tongue.  No way.

Example #2:  Skinny Actresses.   Two words:  Lindsay Lohan.  ’Nuff said. 

Example #3:  Skinny Pants.  Unless you’re 6 foot tall and weigh 98 pounds, no one looks good in skinny jeans, skinny cargos, skinny shorts, or any other item of clothing that calls itself skinny.  No one.

But guess what?  I could be wrong!  (Four words, by the way, my husband has never heard me utter in my life.  And I only write this now in complete secrecy while he sleeps soundly while slobbering next to me because I don’t ever want him to know that I know those four words can coexist.  You understand.) 

Here’s the proof:

 

While I was perusing pants at Nordstrom’s Half Yearly Sale this afternoon (Yes, ladies!  It’s that time of year again!), I totally rolled my eyes at the idea of even trying on these skinny cargo pants by Sanctuary.  But I grabbed my size anyway and decided since I was already headed to the fitting room to try on a pair of jeans, I would give the cargos a crack, too.

I died, came back to life, and died again after I saw for myself how great these skinny cargos looked.  I could not believe it.  Most of the time, I can’t even get skinny pants passed my calves.  And if I do happen to get them passed my calves, there’s no way I can pull them past my fanny.  And if I do happen to get them past my fanny, there’s no way I can sit down in them.  And if do happen to be able to sit down in them, there’s no way my fanny would actually stay in them.  You see my dilemma.

So, I admit, not everything skinny scares me these days.

But c’mon.  There’s no way I’m changing my mind about skinny lattes or skinny actresses.   I mean, cloudy liquid posing as milk and Lindsay Lohan, right? 

Right. 

 

Toddler Talk

July 21st, 2010

Reichen:  “That lady sings lousy.”

What my 3 year old said about the woman singing next to him at church.

Ring A Ding Ding

July 21st, 2010

I am crazy about cocktail rings.  They are bold, beautiful, a bit of a risk, and a total must-have.  Here are a four of my favorites.

1.  Klimt by Alexis Bittar

2.  Bold Bee by AZAARA

3.  Hydroqz Pave by Alexis Bittar

4.  Chrysoprase Ring by Jamie Joseph

A Day of Pace, Peaches, and Pork

July 20th, 2010

Today, I ran 5 miles,

canned 6 bushels of peaches,

and grilled 6 pork tenderloins.

And now, I’m off to saw logs.  Lots of logs.

Scott’s Stories

July 19th, 2010

‘My brother-in-law grew a third boob after he showered shoeless at the gym one time,’ I remind myself as I towel off my exposed toes.  ‘Too late now,’ I sigh as I make a mental note to pick up a pair of flip flops during my next Target trip. 

He didn’t really grow a third boob, my brother-in-law, it just looked like one.  If I were to be anatomically correct, the large lump on Scott’s chest was actually a clogged gland caused by a staph infection he contracted from showering without shoes at the gym.  But don’t worry, a couple weeks and several steroid doses later, his third boob vanished. 

But the story never did.  Scott still tells it all the time.  And every time, I laugh.

My brother-in-law is full of stories.  And I love listening to them, especially the ones about him and David.  Because of Scott, I feel like I’ve known David decades before I married him. 

I’ve heard the one a million times about David pelting him with a pencil when they were kids.  And it always ends with both boys in the emergency room with a few millimeters of lead being removed from the back of Scott’s head.

I’ve heard the one a million times about the early morning pillow fights they had when David would give his little brother 10 free hits before tearing after him in retaliation.  It always ends with their dad waking from a deep sleep, red faced, and chasing after both boys in his underwear yelling at them to stop.

I’ve heard the one a million times about how 12 year old David conned an 8 year old Scott to spray the can of AquaNet at a pile of leaves they spent all morning raking.  It always ends with neither of their parents being home while David lights the fluid on fire with a match.  To this day, they both laugh and wonder how they made it out of that story alive.  I do, too.

David and Scott have a million stories.  And every time I hear them, I laugh.  The lives these two brothers share is so close and so incredible, I only hope the magic their relationship holds can be sprinkled from this generation to the next.

Because Reichen and Latham are going to start making their own stories soon.  And I can’t wait to hear them over, and over, and over again.  And laugh.

Toddler Talk

July 15th, 2010

It’s 8:30pm, I’ve brushed his teeth, read him books, and Reichen is in my lap snuggling one more minute before bed and I whisper…

Me:   “Reichen, you and Latham are the most amazing little boys in the whole world.  I love you so much.”

{pause}

{pause}

Me:   “What do you say when mommy says she loves you?”

Reichen:   “I.  Want.  To.  Go.  To.  The.  Mall.”

Husbandism #18

July 14th, 2010

David:  “That must have been attached to the bone!  Am I bleeding?  I think I need a plasma transfusion!”

My husband’s mild reaction to me pulling a small stray hair from his back.

Put Your Dukes Up

July 13th, 2010

The way David plays with the boys is so different from the way I play with them.  I play cars, read, and have picnics with them.  David wrestles, tackles, and throws balls at them while they run.  Seriously.  And here’s the latest activity my husband has taught my 2 year old how to play, if you can call it that.