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Category Archives: Random Wanderings

Tonight Raylo and I made it to the opening of The Hobbit. 11 years ago we were at opening night for LOTR 1. And the same for 2 & 3. Quite a bit has changed in that time.

Obvious changes: we didn’t have kids, we had more free time and more disposable income. We were both quite a bit thinner. I would spend time getting ready for a date with my new hubby. Now I change my spit up-covered shirt and call it good.

There’s other changes that aren’t as readily seen: I didn’t have a cell phone. Ray Ray had just gotten a swell Nokia. But now I’m writing this post on my brand new iPhone. We thought we were so grown up, but we had not been through masters degrees 1 & 2, several big job changes, moving overseas, heartbreak, pregnancy, babies, illness, 4 cars, and 2 minivans. We are completely different people now.

And yet, through all of the mountains and valleys, I wouldn’t trade those times in. Nor would I trade in the one I’ve travelled with. I am exceedingly grateful for my husband. Life sure is different now, but with him it is always better.

Last night I realized that Peanut was going to need to go to the doc this morning. She has the funky crud that started with me, went to Raylo, and has now inhabited her lungs and nose. So, this morning we got Bean off to school & then quickly got Peanut dressed to make it in time for walk-in sick call. We rushed there, saw the doc, got the diagnosis, went to the pharmacy, and came home.

After we picked Bean up from school, she began complaining of the same things. So, I called the doc’s office to get in for the afternoon. “We have one appointment left & it’s in 10 minutes. Can you make it?” they said. I live 15 minutes away. I told them I’d be 5 minutes late, but I’d be there. I hollered for Bean to put on her shoes & come right away. We rushed there, saw the exact same doc (out of 15) in the exact same room, got the exact same diagnosis, went to the exact same pharmacy, and came back to the exact same home.

As I went through this process, I kept thinking: Didn’t I already do this today? Then I just laughed. So did the staff at the doc’s office after they looked at me with a puzzled expression & said “Didn’t you already come today?” The doc walked in and also did a double-take. Then, he said “Wait…. didn’t I already see you today?”

I’m spreading deja vu all over the place.

The good news is that neither girl is terribly ill. We caught it early. The better news: they have some super-powerful medicine that will ensure that all of us get a good night’s sleep. Well, unless Little Mister decides he’s hungry at 3 a.m. - Lesson one: Only trust people who like big butts... They cannot lie.

This concludes our life lesson for today.

I needed to go to The Wal-Martz today. But, the doc has said I have to stay off my feet. So, that means I can’t walk around Wal-Mart. Therefore, I finally had a legitimate excuse to ride one of these….

It. Was. Awesome. Dude, those suckers are fast and can turn on a stinkin’ dime. We had a list of groceries and school supplies. I also needed an old lady nightgown. They fit in pregnancy, they don’t hurt my incision after the C-section, and they have buttons that make nursing easy. Although you may all know me as a fashion icon, I am willing to sacrifice style for one of those lovely gowns for the hospital.

As we were finishing up, a song just kept running through my head. Well, I texted the first few lines with a picture to one of my buddies. We spent the afternoon writing additional lines back and forth. Stop, because this is the collaboration that resulted…..

Rollin’ in my 5.0, with the ragtop down so my hair can blow.

The rednecks on standby, waving just to say hi.

Did I stop? Naw, I just rode by.

Kept on ’til contractions made me wanna stop,

I busted left and headed to the next block.

That block was dead, so I continued to A 1 A…

Nightgown avenue!

Ladies were hot, buying calico muumuus,

Gotta find some to match their fluffy houseshoes.

Jealous? I’m picking out mine…

Nice row of buttons & a seashell design.

Ready for the employees at the “Wal,”

They actin’ ill cause they got an aisle clean-up call.

Toddler screams rang out like a bell.

I grabbed my diaper bag and ran like…. well….

Bustin’ on the concrete real fast,

My water breaks, pain comes on fast.

Bumper to bumper, the lot is packed,

Trying to get to L & D before I dilate too fast.

EMTs on the scene — know what I mean?

They picked me up, the sirens wailed & made a scene.

If there’s a problem, a spinal block will solve it.

Call up the doc, while the anesthesiologist revolves it….

Nice, nice, baby…..

Stay put my nice, nice baby….

Yo, peeps, I gotta get out of here.

Word from the Scooter Mother……

A few months ago, Bean started telling us what she wanted to do for her birthday party. She said she wanted to have lots of swimming pools and water and cupcakes and fruit.

Sounded good to me!

So, we borrowed a pool (bringing our pool numbers up to 2), got a slip & slide, put out the water table, and turned on the sprinklers. We put out lots of playground balls & toys. We looked up and realized that we had created a Redneck Water Park.

The funny thing about that Slip & Slide — none of the kids knew how to use it. We kept describing what they should do, but they’d either jump on it, slide on their knees, or just splash around. I was about to show them how to slip on said slide, but then I realized that the beach ball-sized baby bump on my front would render that impossible.

The kids all loved it.

But, I didn’t think about one thing. Beanie’s birthday is in late June. It’s hot in late June. In fact, it was a record high that day and well over 100 degrees by 10 a.m. when the party started.

Here’s what I’ve been wondering….. do kids just not notice the heat? Other than asking for lots of lemonade, they didn’t seem fazed. On the other hand, all of the adults were hiding out under any shade we could find & sitting by the fans that Raylo had brought out for us. I don’t remember being bothered with summertime as a kid. Is it that we’ve grown wimpy as we’ve grown up or that kids are just having too much fun to notice?

Bean was certainly having too much fun to notice….

So, Beanie also wanted cupcakes, right? I was going to make some from scratch, but that really wasn’t realistic at this point. So, I found this recipe where you can take a box mix and add some stuff to make it taste homemadeish. I needed more cupcakes than 1 box mix would make, so I doubled the batch. Two vanilla cake mixes, two vanilla Dream Whip packets, and 2 boxes of vanilla pudding went into the bowl. But, as I added the eggs and oil and stuff, something was just not right. It didn’t smell very vanilla anymore. It smelled like…. bananas.

I used to love bananas. In fact, when I was first pregnant with Beanie, one thing I could eat were cold bananas. But, one day I went to eat a banana & the thought of it made me positively ill. That was over 5 years ago & I think I’ve eaten half a banana since then. I don’t like the smell of them or the taste of them anymore whatsoever.

Here I was, with a mixing bowl tip-top full of banana-scented batter and I couldn’t figure it out at all. So, I started checking my ingredients. Yes, the cake mixes were vanilla. Dream Whip only comes in vanilla. And then, I realized that both the vanilla and banana-flavored pudding were in yellow boxes. One of the two boxes was the culprit. And that one dastardly little box of pudding had made the entire batch a banana disaster.

I went ahead and made homemade frosting — partly so I wouldn’t have to go to the store to buy the canned stuff I forgot & partly to try to hide the banana-ridden cake. It didn’t work.

Peanut started the revolt by loudly announcing that she did NOT like the cupcakes. When the kids finished their snack, all of the fruit was gone, but at least half of the cupcakes had only one bite taken out of them. Can you say cupcake FAIL?

Next time, I”ll be double-checking those dad-gum pudding boxes!

Yesterday was Cow Appreciation Day at Chick-fil-A. Dress like a cow and get free food. Therefore, I and my little herd got all gussied up.

And I promise that I combed their hair before I put the cow-ear-bedecked headbands in their hair.

And contrary to the look on Peanut’s face, she actually had a great time. But, she refused to be in any other pictures we took. And my camera batteries ran out after this picture. That’s life, I guess.

Did you dress up for Cow Appreciation Day?

Maternity pants are stretchy. This will become an important point later in my blog post.

Peanut has always been clingy. She wants hugs and wants to be touching me all. the. time. It’s grown worse as my belly has expanded. Here’s the trouble: she usually clings to my pants or my pockets. When I wear regular pants with a regular belt, this is not any trouble.

But, when I walk through the aisles of Wal-Mart and she pulls on my maternity pants pockets…. well, let’s just say there’s slippage. Let’s just say that it’s a good thing that maternity shirts are long. Or I would be banned from The Wal-Marts.

A few weeks ago we were at Firehouse Subs. She yanked my pants down quite low. I grabbed them before they went below the hemline of my shirt. Then, I told her she had to quit pulling on me. Her response: she grabbed the neckline of my shirt and pulled it down almost to my bellybutton. So, in avoiding losing my pants, I lost my shirt…..

I am surprised that I am still allowed in Firehouse Subs.

Today I met two friends & their daughters at Chick-fil-A. The nice refill lady there got me a brand new large tea. I immediately set it down on an uneven surface and it spilled everywhere. We helped clean it up & then moved to another table where we could see our kids in the playground area better. Immediately we knocked a chair full of bags onto the nice lady at the table next to us.

At least my pants didn’t fall down in there.

I am becoming a menace to society.


I told y’all about my upcoming trip to Haiti. I’m still stinkin’ excited. I’ve even downloaded audio lessons so I can learn a few phrases. I actually just want to learn the phrase “Help, I’m stuck in the bathroom!” There’s a very very very good reason for this. When I had been in Turkey only 2 weeks (and prior to the start of language classes), we went across town to a Chinese restaurant for a friend’s birthday. I ate, I drank, and then I had to visit the little girls’ room. (Or kucuk kizlarin odasi if you want to be Turkish about it…. except that they never call it that….) Well, after I took care of business, I tried to leave the bathroom. But the door was stuck. STUCK. It wasn’t locked. It wasn’t blocked. It was just stuck. Of course I had left my phone at the table, so I couldn’t call anyone. And at that point I only knew how to say hello, one, two, three, chicken shish kebab, rice. (You can tell what I ate for the first two weeks there…..) Well, none of those words would help me to get unstuck. So, I started banging on the door.

I heard people laughing on the other side of the door, and I heard the waitstaff walking around, but no one was helping me. So, I started to yell: “Help! I’m stuck! I’m stuck and I don’t know the Turkish word for help! Help!” They did nothing.

At the time I didn’t know that this was very unusual for Turkish culture. In the years that followed, I found the people to generally be hospitable and kind and gracious and willing to help a person obviously stuck in a bathroom. Apparently these Turks were just having a REALLY bad day.

Finally I just got quiet & waited. I knew someone would eventually either have to use the bathroom or come see why I was still in the bathroom. Sure enough, Raylo came and knocked on the door. “Are you ok? Are you sick?” he asked. “Nope. I’m stuck. And the people hear me, but they keep laughing at me,” I replied. Well, he got one of our bilingual friends to ask them to open the door. “Oh, I guess it’s broken,” was their response.

That night, as we were leaving the Chinese restaurant, I asked my bilingual friend how to say help. The Turkish word is spelled imdat, but is pronounced M-dot. From then on, if I thought there might be a need for it, I imagined a dot with an M in it.

I propose that this becomes the new international symbol for “Help! I’m stuck in a bathroom!”

Whew. That trauma is obviously still fresh with me. So, I plan on knowing how to say hello, how to count a few numbers, and most importantly, how to say “Help! I’m stuck in the bathroom!” before I enter a different country ever again.

So, I check my stats on my blog because I’m a nerd like that. I’m always fascinated by what people type in a search engine that leads them here. Just this week, someone searched “house vandalized kids peed everywhere” and found lil’ old me. So, I searched that phrase, too.

Front page, bay-bee! Yup. I was the 8th result. It was a rather interesting group of results. Am I proud to be among them? Heck, yeah! After all, as I so humbly told you in the title of this post, this IS a high-class blog you’re reading.

A few weeks ago one of the pastors at our church approached Raylo.

Pastor: Raylo, would you consider going on a trip with us to Haiti?

Raylo: Nope. But I’ll send my wife.

He told me that night over dinner and I was ecstatic. He’s been overseas twice since we moved back to the States. I haven’t been anywhere. Seriously, this was better than receiving 3 dozen roses. I asked him about the kids. I don’t want to just expect others to drop everything & take care of him. But he told me that he was so willing for me to go that he’d take his vacation days to watch them. Some of our family members are planning to come for part of the time, but even if that doesn’t work out and they can’t do it, he said he would. Seriously— I have the best hubby ever.

I’ve been reading a blog called Sit a Spell for several months. It’s about a family from Texas who has moved to Hatiti to help with the rebuilding. (The mom & pop of that family were actually at Texas A&M at the same time I was, but I don’t think I ever met them. Crazy small world.) They’re back in the States now, but their pictures and stories have really affected me. Their blog plus the ongoing need for rebuilding and aid has made me think of Haiti quite often. And now I’m getting to go.

My level of excitement over going on a 10 day trip to a 3rd world devastated country either confirms that I’m a lunatic or it means I must reeeeeeelly need a vacation. I think it’s the lunatic part.

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