You are currently browsing the monthly archive for April 2008.
It’s been a whirlwind of a week. Can you believe it is already Wednesday?? I know. I got lost last month, too. So lost, in fact, I made my mortgage payment TWICE. Yep, twice. Long story short, my mortgage is through a not-local-to-me credit union but my main piggy bank is with a local bank. I keep money at the CU, but mainly pay bills from main pig. Well, for April’s payment, I didn’t see the money come out of my account so I panicked and moved money from CU account to mortgage. Phew. Then I went back to main piggy bank and saw it had been withdrawn, just.not.posted.yet. Yikes. CU offered to move the money back to my account, but I decided to leave it alone. They posted it for May’s payment. Anyway… April has flown by faster than you can blink your eyes; at least for those of us scrambling for air at Chateau L.
Thursday night was Girl’s Night Out with a group of ladies from surrounding areas. Was just as much fun as it was last month. I laughed until my sides split. Those in and around the area really need to check out Salara. I had the blueberry fritters again. I took Will some chocolaty delight and I decided to have some carrot cake. I love good carrot cake and this was yum-o, but was very, very rich. Shannon joined me and she was in love with the fritters, too.
Thursday night I packed my bags and car for the beginning of a long weekend, and by long I don’t mean extended days off…I mean oodles of on the road time. I logged 506 miles from Thursday night until I settled peacefully at home on Sunday evening.
Friday, after I left work, I headed to Apex, NC to pay respects to the family of a fallen Soldier, Sgt. Lance Eakes. This area has lost several soldiers and the Blue Star Mothers for that area of our state have been doing a great job supporting the family and I’m proud of them. Will had Guard duty and my parents had Olivia so it was just me; several of the other Blue Star Mothers visited earlier in the day. I prayed for strength as I pulled into the parking lot and saw a lot of familiar and friendly faces of the Patriot Guard Riders and felt a bit more relaxed. I didn’t know this family personally, but they are part of our extended family. While in line, I met the brigade support chaplain who is assigned to Will’s brigade. That was nice. She and I spoke for several minutes and exchanged information. She seems to be a wonderful lady and I hope we are one of the family support groups she visits when she heads west. Her husband is also part of the brigade. When I stepped outside the funeral home doors, it hit me like a ton of bricks and I learned that I am not strong enough to do this alone. I called a fellow BSM/friend (Hey P!) who graciously directed me everywhere I needed to be and she talked me back to a level of calm. I set Ramona to get me to the Raleigh-Durham airport to drop off some Girl Scout cookies a troop from NEW JERSEY shipped to me for our soldiers at the USO. So, I get to the airport and missed the one door I was supposed to stop at. I had to whip out the brass ovaries on the security dude at the airport (thanks to Koli’s mom for that one! I love it and have permanently borrowed the phrase). I have never been to this airport before, much less the USO, and explained to him what I was doing, etc. He told me I needed to back up, could I handle it? Asshat. Not only did I back up, but I parallel parked better than I ever have in my entire life. (I quit parallel parking after hitting a car once. Not backing into it from the front or rear, but hitting my front quarter panel on the car’s bumper trying to maneuver into a spot. Yeah. Not pretty. The steel bumper faired better than my car. That was in 1995.) I had one big box housing about 25-30 small boxes of cookies. There was a wee bit of confusion as to what I was bringing so four men came down to get them. Heh. I had some other goodies in my car for a care package party I was helping host later in the weekend, so I let them pilfer and plunder taking what they wanted. I was glad Will had freed up long enough to hear about the events. He listened to me, but didn’t know what to say to soothe my soul except he was proud of me. I needed that.
Next stop….The Hilton. I was upgraded to the fancy floor that required a key in the elevator to get to. Yippee. There was a convention being held at the hotel and the fun restaurant next door I was counting on for a fruity cocktail had a two hour wait out the door and the bar area was packed like sardines. So, I went back to my hotel, put my jammies on and ordered room service. The best chicken quesadilla and cold beer I could have imagined. Olé. Then it was off to bed for the Salute to the Troops parade Saturday morning.
Part II, coming soon….
It’s coming, but I’m home with an uber sick toddler today. Between coughing fits and lots of green goo, we’re not having such a grandiose day.
I will tell you it was a hoot. Dinner was great. Company was fantastic. My feet hurt really, really bad, which is a sign of too much dancing in the wrong shoes.
More soon…Olivia sneezes her best to all of you.
Three days until Prom 2008. I’m way excited; admittedly, more than I should be. It’s been 18 years since my first prom and I know I was no where near as excited as I am now. I think Will may be a little irritated that my excitement runneth from my ears. Hey, can’t help it, but, I must say, he is being a pretty good sport about it. When we made the grandiose plans to go this year (Ummm – about 15 minutes into it last year) who knew he would have Guard duty twice this month. He needs to blame his command, not me. Besides, he’s driving and shooting tanks. How cool is that? I know, not as cool as the prom, but still pretty nifty.
My tickets finally arrived yesterday after I’ve irritated the dickens out of the people. I checked the postmark; March 27. The kicker: The envelope was opened. Apparently, my mail carrier mis-delivered them to someone who failed to realize their name was not Susan L living at my address and was expecting something from the organization and they plundered through my envelope, but everything was in there. Whew. I must give kudos to the organizer who never raised a question about not receiving the tickets and already had made plans to have them available for me at the event. Thanks for that!
I have three dresses to choose from. Why three? I couldn’t narrow it down to one, obviously. I like one better than two. Will likes two better than one and we are both on the fence about three. So, I’ll let my date decide.
I’ve got my checklist and am working my way through it:
Shoes. Check.
Accessories. Half check. Can’t finalize until I decide what dress to wear.
Hair appointment. Nope. I need to have ye old roots touched up, but if I go in for highlights they will want to cut it and I’m not about having a haircut three days before the prom. Gah. Couldn’t do it sooner because I’m not a fan of my hair spontaneously combusting risking damaging my hair because it’s dried out from the extra bleach less than six weeks after the last time I had it done highlighting process done too soon.
Dinner. At the hotel – they don’t accept reservations so we’ll just have to cross our fingers, I guess. To ensure our safety, we will be staying at the hotel that night. I didn’t get the fancy negotiated rate for the affair, but it’s cheaper than any alternative as a result of driving home. Not saying I would be irresponsible, but it’s not me I’m worried about. Plus, the hotel is renovating TWO floors at a time and it took me about 3 weeks to get a room. Now the ones that are available are way more expensive than mine, so I guess all is well.
I’ve been practicing shaking my groove and Olivia tells me, “Mommy. That not look right? You being a silly goose.” A critic at such a young age.
Bottom line…3 days, people.
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And, yes. I’m referring to is as prom just like I’m 17 again. Only this time, my dress is MUCH bigger and hair much smaller.
This was my response today when I picked Olivia up at school. I walked in and two of the afternoon teachers turned to me and grinned. This was our conversation:
Teacher 1: Is there something you would like to share?
Me: Huh?
Teacher2: Is there anything new happening?
Me: I had a pretty rough day and I have a headache.
Teacher1: Is that all?
Me: It’s starting to rain. Why do you ask?
Teacher2: Well, Olivia told us that her mommy is going to have a baby. (Insert BIG grins and giggles here)
Me: (GASPING for air and trying not to bust a gut laughing.) Umm, no. Not even close.
Teacher3 walks in on the tail of the conversation: Yeah, she told me, too, but I figured something was up when she said her grandma was going to have one.
I gather up Fabul-O and her treasures and ask her who’s having a baby? Her response: “You are mommy. You and Grandma. She picks me up Friday so I go wif her to have a baby.”
Can’t wait to see what the Wednesday morning parking lot chat will be in the morning. Word spreads fast in a small private school and almost all the kidlets were gone by the time I got there this afternoon.
Sweet.
This is part of the subject line of an email I got from Old Navy today. These shoes were horrible in the 80s and it looks like they’ll be horrible again. Apparently, they’ve been on a comeback for some time now. Those who know me know I’m no fashionista, so maybe it’s me who has the problem. Not the creepy, flimsy shoes that make your feet sweat and stink to high heaven that when you take them off, the pattern of the shoe is outlined in the street dirt you kicked up. Can’t wait for spiral perms and reindeer bangs to make it back. Oh, can’t forget: bubble skirts, blue mascara, slouch socks with hi-top Reeboks, Esprit, Swatch, Lacoste, Members Only, parachute pants, banana clips, jelly bracelets, Jordache jeans with the bow above the zipper on the back of the legs and stirrup pants.
Ya’ll know I’m not hating on the 80s. I think hair bands are the greatest thing that emerged from them. Just some things don’t need to come back, is all.
For the record, Crocs are so not in the same category as Jelly shoes and shame on you for thinking it.
Cheese. Somewhere in time, it was decided this phrase would be used to get people to smile for pictures. And, until recently, it was no different at Chateau L for its occupants. Only problem is this, Olivia kind of puckers when you ask her to say cheese so it’s not pretty. I’ve forbidden her school to let her say it because the last three rounds of school pictures came back not good at all.
This morning, as I was still lounging in bed, Olivia comes in with her viewmaster turned camera and said, “Time for pictures.” I smooth out my morning hair for the pretend photo shoot.
I’m ready.
She’s ready.
Camera ready.
She pipes up with, “say MONEY.”
If it would have been a real photo shoot, you would have seen my bloodshot eyes as big as saucers and my chin dropped to my chest.
The girl knows what to say to bring a smile.
This has been slightly edited, thanks to Terry’s comment. She’s right. I did approach it all wrong. Nothing like a good friend to call you out on your own blog in the comments section. (Wait until I share the socks she’s making. They are delightful. Really, I’ve already ordered my pair.) Terry: I *heart* you to pieces.
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There are always things in our lives that identify us. I would hope most are good, but I’m sure some are not so good. For work, I’m “Susan with XYZ company.” At the vet, “Pom-Pom’s mommy.” I do some contract work for a doctor’s office and I am introduced to new people within the organization as, “Susan, she works for Dr. So-and-So.” All come with smiles and nods and “Pleased to meet yous.”
It goes on…
I always knew that when we became parents I would turn to vapor. We go somewhere sans Olivia and the first thing out of everyone’s mouth is, “where’s Olivia.” Normally she’s on a mini-vacay with my parents. When I have a bit of snark built up, I ask, “Who? Oh, her.” Anyway, I digress. When I pick O up from school, all the little kids shout out, “Olivia’s mommy is here” and I get waves and hugs and stories of new barrettes. One little girl, Kaitlyn, who goes by K-K, always asks me, “Whas your name? Mine’s K-K.” I tell her Ms. Susan, because Mrs. L is my mother-in-law and I’m not old enough to be a Mrs. L. One of the tots pipes up with, “No, no, no. That’s not right. You Owifia’s mommy.” (Love how the kids say Olivia)
Military life is no different. I spoke a few posts back about going to the family support meeting at the armory. This was my first encounter with the wives of this unit other than the past two Christmas parties and nobody would make eye contact. The guys always refer to each other by last names, except those who are close or see each other outside their service. The wives, on the other hand, always refer to their husbands and everyone by their first name, which means I have absolutely no stinking clue who they are referring to. I was recapping the meeting with Will and I said, “Lindsey and Joey…” and he cocked his head and asked me who Joey was. I told him Lindsey’s husband. I don’t know their last name. He doesn’t know their first name. Mystery couple…one of many. At the meeting, new people would arrive and say, “who are you?” I replied with, “Susan,” quickly replacing it with “I’m Sgt. L’s wife.” It would click. In another conversation, I was talking about a girlfriend. Will was talking about a soldier. We thought we were on the same couple, until I mentioned the little boy. I had the right spouse, he had the wrong soldier. “C’s mommy” cleared it all up. Of course, Olivia wooed everyone with her charm and by the end of the day I had no prayer of being Susan. I am referred to as “Sgt. L’s wife. Olivia’s mommy.” I lost expanded my identity. Times two.
We work to establish our individual identity and I know who I am, but, when it comes down to it, I often wonder if we really have one. That is, at least until they get to “know” us and when I say, “Susan” they know who Susan is. The more and more I think about it, the more I realize just how much I do it. I guess we all do. However, I would much rather be known as Sgt’s wife or Olivia’s mommy than “the WW drop out who needs to have her roots done.” All of which are true, but the first two are nicer than the third. I suppose it’s one of the parts of my life I don’t mind expanding.
There is a TV station in Macon, GA doing a wedding giveaway. One of the contestants is a soldier serving his second tour in Iraq. Voting ends April 20, so click on over and vote for this young GI and his fiancee (Faith and Shawn).
From military.com:
April is the “Month of the Military Child.” More than 1.7 million American children under the age of 18 have at least one parent serving in the military. This month is a perfect time to recognize their sacrifices and applaud their courage. In addition, the National Military Family Association (NMFA) would like to remind Military.com members that Operation Purple Summer Camp Registration will be closing on May 5, 2008. Visit the Operation Purple website to learn more. NMFA offers everything from free camps for military children to military spouse fellowships. Visit the NMFA website to learn how you can join or become an NMFA volunteer
Prom is less than two weeks away and I am so excited! Will and I went last year with Shannon and Tony. This year, Will has drill that weekend so my date will be my friend J. She and I have known each other for over 20 years and went to school together from middle school until our sophomore year of high school and then some college together. We’ll have a blast.
I hear there are still tickets available. Anyone in town on the 26th and want to go….come on! After all, it’s for charity!
Olivia likes to put her own shoes on. Yesterday she put them on the wrong feet. I told her they were wrong and for her to sit down and put them on the correct feet. She took them off and crossed the shoes so they were in front of her correct feet. Then she crossed her legs and put her shoes back on…on the wrong feet. She was satisfied so I left it alone.
On Top Chef. Yes, it took me three seasons, plus missing most of the 4th. I’ve been watching the marathon and realize I’m hooked. Why didn’t someone tell me how much fun this was?
Off to watch more…
When I see the things people search for in search engines and end up here. Heh. “Peeing” and “pimp” are a close tie, although pimp isn’t on this particular list. I’m sure there are good reasons for them, but if I spend anytime thinking about it after I chuckle, it sometimes creeps me out. And what about “eww, something stinks?” Not here….we’re a bouquet of roses.
Search Engine Terms
These are terms people used to find your blog.
Yesterday
| Search | Views |
|---|---|
| we watched as they growed | 2 |
| girls peeing | 1 |
| peeing | 1 |
| peeing for the doctor | 1 |
| sippy cup trucks | 1 |
| prom night | 1 |
| eww something stinks | 1 |
Sort of. I won’t go into details of how, but I cleared all the snacks out of my office. Blame Mother Nature. She’s ruthless and would not stop until the faux Twinkies were history. They are.
I am a Weight Watchers drop out. I lost about 40 pounds in 2004 and did well with the program. Then Will got orders for Iraq. I did okay for a while and then had to decide where to focus my energies when he was gone. Stress and WW didn’t mesh for me, so I chose to channel my energies elsewhere. Since then, I’m still down about 20 pounds. Falling off the wagon hurts, but it hurts worse when you get run over by the wagon. I re-joined months ago, but have not made any efforts to follow the program.
Tonight in my blog trolling, two people on my bloglines have joined and lost this week with WW. I want to and I think they are my signs!
So, here’s my oath:
I, Susan, being of lumpy and bumpy proportions, do hereby solemnly promise to not waste any more money with WW and actually follow the program and attend the meetings that I’ve been paying for. (I’m more of a failure without meetings).
- I will not indulge in any more GS cookies, despite the fact they scream my name and we have lots of them. I will find them a good home.
- I will make a conscious effort to resist temptations.
- I will keep those size XX jeans out and try them on periodically. When they fit again, I will likely celebrate with one hot fudge brownie sundae, but just one.
- If I have a bad day, I will pick me up and dust me off and get back to the program.
- I will probably exercise some (just being honest – not unrealistic).
- I will succeed on the program.
- I will do it and embrace the lifestyle change that is so desperately needed at Chateau L.
Pinky swear.
This weekend Will has drill and there is a family support meeting at the armory that Olivia and I will be attending this afternoon. The armory is a bit out of town, so we’ll have to make it an afternoon adventure, which will begin just about lunch time. Here’s the conversation.
Me: Olivia, do you want to have lunch with mommy today? We can eat at XYZ.
O: I’ll have to call you later, but not XYZ. Not good. I wanna go to ABC123.
Me: What?!?
O: I call you later.
Me: Say again, please?
O: I’ll let you know after I finish up. I really need to work now. (she’s stickering)
Good news is that she was able to work me into her busy schedule. Thank goodness, otherwise I don’t know what I would have done.
Kid doesn’t miss a beat or anything we say. Evah. By the way, when did she turn 30?
