Not Me

Here are some things that I haven't done...at least not today. Maybe recently, but not today. They'll probably make you feel better about your current mental state and/or hair color. Mine happens to be slightly spacey and blonde as evidenced by the events you're about to read.


*Discovered that sometimes when I'm watching my son's basketball games that I may get a little vocal and loud, oh and competitive, and sometimes sarcastic. So much so that there were a few times at Blade's last tournament game that GI Joe had to "ssssshhhhh" me in order to keep me from getting kicked out of the game. I'm sorry but I was just trying to help the refs out because clearly, THEY NEEDED THEIR EYES CHECKED. I wasn't the only one, our coach actually got a TECHNICAL foul for pointing out a missed call that the ref didn't make. A TECHNICAL FOUL at a 4th grade game?!? Our coach was simply pointing out a blatant call that the ref missed. The ref did not appreciate the feedback, got a little upset and told the coach, "You need to sit down, be quiet, and let me do my job" to which our coach responded calmly (and awesomely), "THEN DO YOUR JOB!" And the people I said Amen. I hope my boys play basketball forever because I LOVE it.

Another perk of basketball, is that I KNOW I'm taking pictures of my kid, which sure beats getting home from a game and reviewing pictures, only to discover you took 1700 pictures of the wrong kid because they all look alike when disguised in helmets and pads and you can't see their numbers.  Prime example.....

                                   

None of them are my kid, even though when I took the picture I was sure Blade was one of them.  He was not.  This however, is definitely Blade.

Isn't his intensity adorable? 

*Speaking of basketball, I locked my keys in the PMobile at Blade's basketball tournament in Podunk(fictional name), IA on the day that GI Joe had drill approximately 45 minutes away. And then had to ask a fellow basketball parent to borrow their cell phone to call GI Joe because my phone was dead and the charger was locked in the car...with the keys. Oh and guess what? My spare set of keys? It was on the same keyring with my first set of keys because umm, yeah, that makes TOTAL sense. FYI, having to ask someone to borrow their cell phone, no matter how many hours of bleacher time you've logged together, is humiliating. GI Joe explained the situation to his ever understanding and sympathetic boss (his boss knows me by now) and was able to come rescue me. You know what else he did? He took my spare set of keys OFF of my keyring and made me put them in a safe place in my purse. Now let's just hope that next time I lock my keys in my car I don't lock my purse in there with them. Because let's be honest, that's totally something I would do.

*The VERY NEXT day GI Joe was still at drill but the kids and I went out for lunch after church with the inlaws. We got to the restaurant before they did so we waited in the car for them to arrive. Having been scarred from the locking keys in the car experience of the day before, when I got out, I checked my purse for my keys, you know the ones that I should've just thrown in there. I didn't see them so being overly cautious, I didn't lock my car doors. You know, so as not to repeat the error of yesterday, even though I now had another set of keys in my purse, but I didn't see those either and one can never be too careful. We had a leisurely lunch and about an hour later my brother in law's family left the restaurant leaving my mother & father in law, the kids and I to finish our lunch. Seconds after they left we got a call from my BIL saying something like this, "Did you know your car is running? Did you hit the remote start button?" Me: "I don't have remote start on this PMobile yet. That's weird." BIL inspecting my PMobile further, "Ummm, it's unlocked AND THE KEYS ARE IN IT!" Me: "So THAT'S where my keys were!" Whoops. The good news is that no thieves took advantage of the unlocked, already running keys in it bait and stole it in the hour plus that it was unattended, probably because it was covered in a thick layer of gravel dust and mud making it unappealing to the thieving crowd. I mean, if you're gonna serve some jail time you at least want the ride you jack to be shiny and pretty amiright?!? The bad news is I had to get gas after that because idling for an hour doesn't do much for the ol' fuel efficiency.

*Shortly after this, GI Joe decided he wanted to make the PMobile more appealing for car thieves couldn't stand the dirt any longer (he's slightly OCD when it comes to vehicle cleanliness, inside and out, which is awesome because I.AM.NOT.) and restored Ruby the Princess Mobile to her original glory by giving her a long overdue bath. What, you mean going thru the car wash once every season isn't enough?!? He spent a lot of quarters sudsing her up, rinsing, repeat, and even getting out all the mud from the wheel hubs and underneath. She looked beautiful. The problem came the next day when I went to the store and spent 15 minutes looking for my vehicle in the parking lot because I was looking for a 2 tone muddy brown/burgundy PMobile and could not find it anywhere. Finally, I hit the Panic button on my fab and jumped 10 feet in the air when it started honking 2 cars away from me. Seriously. I am a mess.

*This is completely unrelated to the PMobile and any unfortunate incidents involving her but a funny story that will give you a glimpse into the inner workings of GI Joe and I's marriage. On Friday night, I drove to Bethany, MO to meet my sister Heidi to get my niece Savannah for the weekend. I got there before they did so I went to the local farm store (where else would I go?!?) and as luck would have it, it was CHICK DAYS. I live for Chick Days at the farm store. You all know I'm a sucker for animals, especially baby animals, ESPECIALLY baby animals that are fluffy and tiny and chirping. So I sent GI Joe the following text, "I think I'm going to pick up some chicks". After hitting send, I realized that that simple sentence could be easily misinterpreted. Some husbands might be shocked, excited, hopeful even, thinking their wife was picking up chicks of the female kind to bring home to live out some 17 year old boy fantasy. But my husband? He sent back a text that said, "GET OUT OF THE FARM STORE!" Dang, he knows me too well. Sidenote: I did get out of the farm store only to return after getting Savannah and letting her pick out 3 of these, thereby making me MOST FAVORITE AUNT, which was pretty much already established but it never hurts to go above and beyond to further secure the title.

And then we held them on our laps the entire 1.5 hour drive home. Because that's how we roll when you're hanging with the "MOST FAVORITE AUNT".

*While at the farm store picking up "chicks", there was a couple there new to the business of chickens, deliberating over which kind of chicks to get. It was obvious they didn't know much about chickens and were looking for good laying chickens, that laid brown eggs. And would you believe that I, former city girl, farm girl wannabe, actually advised them and filled them in on which breed produces what color of eggs and egg quality? Because I did. And then when the Orscheln man (not to be confused with the Orkin man) came over he confirmed what I had told them and then gave me the knowing nod as one farmer does to another and said, "You must be a chicken farmer." You guys? I think this means I've finally made it! I'm a real farm girl! I think what it really means is that I've actually retained some of what I've learned from all the 4H Poultry meetings with my daughter, the real chicken whisperer  and the websites and hatchery magazines we've spent hours looking through. Nonetheless, you have a chicken question?  I'm your girl or I'll ask my girl and get back to you. 

*I'm NOT your girl, however, if you do not enjoy exploding glass pans of BBQ Meatballs all over your kitchen. We had a potluck at church on Sunday after the morning service. I had slaved away on Saturday night making these and was so excited to finally get to eat them. I brought the dish in before Sunday School and put the pan on the stove for safekeeping until it was time to put them in the oven to bake, chatting away with my friend Trisha, while I turned on the oven to preheat it. We went on our merry way and were talking in the hallway before we got our Sunday School classes underway when we heard a very loud, odd, that-can't-be-good-sound. We went sprinting down the hallway to the kitchen, the direction the sound came from, and discovered BBQ meatballs and shards of glass everywhere, and a shocked young man who was simply getting a drink of water when a pan of meatballs TRIED TO KILL HIM. Luckily, he escaped serious injury. Good thing too because that would've been an awkward lawsuit..."Your honor the victim was assaulted with a pan of bbq meatballs and he has suffered great emotional turmoil and hardship since the incident, the defendant must pay for her crimes!" As for the rest of us, we spent the majority of Sunday School cleaning up a meatbally mess. The church kitchen hasn't seen that much action since Trisha's Great Pizza Incident of 2011.  As it turns out I had NOT turned the oven on but I HAD turned on the burner that I had set the glass pan on. Note to self: Glass pans on electric burners=disaster. Then later that same afternoon, I dropped a jar of pizza sauce in the aisle at Wal Mart. Because, you know, you just can't have too much broken glass and red sauce splattered everywhere in a single day.

*And this has nothing to do with anything, but many people (or two) have asked about Holy Cow's wellbeing since I haven't talked much about him or shown a picture of him lately. Not to worry he's alive and well, except for a severe case of mistaken identity wherein he thinks he's a dog. He's still the bovine love of my life. Also, he has a horn appointment next Monday where he'll be getting highlights and a cut/style. OK, so not really on the highlights but he will be getting a cut, as in his horns cut off. We had used some dehorning paste when he was a baby that was supposed to prevent them from coming in but as you can see he's a regular Texas longhorn now with these bad boys. Unfortunately, he doesn't use his horns for the greater good, instead he uses them to put gigantic bruises on your thighs because he just wants to be pet (or is it petted? I never know). But the horns? They gots to go.  But he'll still be large and in charge even sans horns. 

Is it weird that I'm going to print this picture to hang in my office at work? You're right, I didn't think so either.

Be sure to check back tomorrow for Food Friday. FOUR WEEKS IN A ROW?!? The apocalypse is definitely coming!!!