Stacy & Clinton, if you are reading this, I’m ready for my $5,000 makeover. If my 4 year old recognizes my poor fashion choices, then they must be pretty terrible. Then again, she dresses more like Fancy Nancy than a fashionista.

Yesterday we had a day where we all just stayed at home and hung out. We painted, we played games, we watched My Little Pony. Raylo was just thrilled with that, you know. At one point Peanut put in an annoying kids CD. Then, she started dancing around the room to the song We All Dance in a Circle. “Dance with me, Daddy!” she said. So, Raylo got up and began dancing around in the circle. She stopped, looked at him, and said, “No, you can sit down.”

Bad dressing & bad dancing followed by insults from preschoolers. That’s what you’ll find here.

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.

In other news, Peanut has a new big girl bed. She loves it. We wish she loved it enough to stay in it all night instead of coming in at 3 a.m. to our room and begging to get in our bed & screaming “I DON’T LIKE SLEEPING BY MYSELF!”

Bean had to get in the pictures, too. We’ve picked out a bedspread online, but it hasn’t arrived yet. However, I have a feeling that the nice bedspread I buy will end up on the floor & she’ll sleep with this pile of quilts & blankets she loves. How do I know this? Because Bean’s $90 pink quilt is on the floor by my chair right now. Instead she’s sleeping with a bunch of other blankets. But, that includes the quilt I made her, so I’m actually very happy about it. Someday Peanut will get a twin-sized quilt from me. But, I have to work through a few other projects I’ve already started before I can justify starting a new one.

So, there you go. There’s some new pics of the girlies. You’re welcome.

To help earn the funds for my upcoming trip to Haiti, I’ve opened a new Etsy shop called Finchley Lane. In it are some items I had made for various craft fairs in New Orleans. Since I haven’t found a craft fair yet here, I figured it would be a good time to sell those items & save the cash-o-la for my trip. So, from now until I leave, 100% of the profits from all sales go directly to pay for my trip.

What am I selling? Here’s a few pics….

These Wristlet Keychains are the bomb. I’m not really sure how I lived without mine. Seriously. If you don’t buy one from me, that’s fine. But, if you ever have to tote a whole mess of groceries, kids stuff, babies, or just junk and still need to keep your keys handy, then these are the ticket. Buy one from somewhere. They will help keep you sane. Or, in my case, they will inch you closer towards sanity.

I have several fabric flower pins and clips. Some are single flowers and some are in bunches. This one is my fave right now. I thought about just keeping it. But then I realized that I won’t exactly pay for my airfare if I keep all of the stuff I make and only sell the orange ones. So, I’ll keep it in the shop. *sigh* Being responsible and stuff isn’t always as much fun. Wait. I own all of that fabric. I can just make another one for myself. Woooo!

Today if the lighting is still good, I’ll photograph the tote bags and a few zipper bags that I have and get them added to the shop.

Oh, and local peeps: I offer free delivery for you! I mean, why pay shipping charges if I can just meet you at our church, at the library, or at Chick-fil-A? Sorry, I don’t meet people for deliveries in dark alleys, the Wal-Mart parking lot, or inside Red Lobster. Unless you’re buying my dinner at Red Lobster. Then I’ll deliver there for sure. Anyway, you can read how to get this amazing once-in-a-lifetime special offer in any of the item listings or in my shop policies section.

*end new Etsy shop plug* Thankyouverymuch!

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.

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.

I’ve also been on an e-mail break and a Pinterest break and a Facebook break and a Google Reader break.

It’s been delicious.

My hubby got a super fabulous week off between Christmas & New Year’s, so we spent the time driving to Louisiana and then the Promised Land to see family. Oh, yes, I speak of Texas. The sad thing is that I hadn’t been to my home town since Christmas 2010. A whole. Stinking. Year. That’s too long. I got to go to Dallas in October and I’ve seen my family through the year, but it’s just not the same to miss out on Casa Ole (all time fave restaurant…. when I was little we went there so much the waiters knew us) & on all of the familiar sights.

Bean & I went to Wal-Mart on one day. First of all, it was nice to go to Wal-Mart in a part of the country that calls it Wal-Mart or Wally World, but never ever ever ever unless they’re making fun of people in other parts of the country do they call it The Wal-Marts. When we finished our shopping, we left the parking lot & I saw that the major road was pretty busy. So, on a whim, I decided to take a back way through the neighborhoods. This way, I could drive Bean by the house I grew up in.

We slowly cruised the street & she asked where my friends had lived. So, I’d periodically drop to about 10 mph to show her. This is a suburban street & no one would be in that neighborhood unless they lived there. There were no other cars in sight, so I wasn’t holding up traffic. Well, I got to my house & we stopped. I pointed out which window was mine. Then, we cruised to the end of the street reeeeeeally slowly while I pointed out all of the houses where my little friends had lived so many eons ago. At the end of the street, you have to turn and as I did, I noticed a police car sitting there. The officer inside was watching me intently. I waved, smiled, and drove on.

I thought it was a very odd place for a cop to take a break. The neighborhood was a very quiet one when I lived there. Now, a major road runs through my former backyard (and my sandbox!!!) and my parents moved because of it. The neighborhood is a bit less quiet, but still very quiet & respectable. Why would a cop be chilling there?

Today my brother & mom called to tell me why. He was staking out a house. One of the houses that I crept by slowly and pointed at while telling animated stories to my child. And we were in full view of the officer. Apparently it’s the home of some dude known as The Handsome Guy Bandit. I would like to applaud the police officers responsible for coming up with this very very clever nickname. He’s robbed about 6 banks in the Dallas area. We live about 2 hours from the crimes, so I guess Mr. Handsome thought he was safe.

But the police found him. And they were watching him. And waiting for him to come home. All sneaky-like…. In plain sight. In broad daylight. I don’t know about you, but if I was an accomplished bank robber, I think I would just not come home.

Dear Police Officer Man,

I know you saw me sloooooow down and point at the house where Mr. Handsome Bank Robber Guy lives, but I don’t know him. When was growing up in that quiet & quaint neighborhood a girl I went to school with lived in that home. It might be a stretch to call her a friend since she thought I was a complete and total dork, so I’ll just call her an acquaintance & her home my acquaintance’s house. However, the intricacies of middle school social strata and the perils of unpopularity are too much for my 4 year old to understand. So, I was just calling it “my friend’s house.” Please know that I am referring to the aforementioned acquaintance and not the Handsome Guy Bandit. Although, if he were to share some of his loot with me, I would call him a friend as well. And then I’d call you to come put my friend in jail.

Thank you very much for not chasing me down and dragging me out of the car and asking me questions.

Sincerely,

mab

What, dear reader? What did you say? You don’t think I was really ever in danger of the police officer pulling me over for questioning? Pshaw! Although I didn’t know that the officer was there on a stakeout, some part of me must have known I was in some type of danger for I felt myself inexplicably drawn to Dairy Queen for a therapeutic Chocolate Xtreme Blizzard immediately after this incident.

Now, for those of you who want to know more about this bank robber dude, here’s some linkies:

Serial Bank Robber Uses “Handsome Guy” Mask @ NBC.com

“Handsome Guy Bandit Still at Large After Bank Robbery @ KLTV.com (The local station)

And in true mab fashion, I won’t make any New Year’s Resolutions, but I will make a Gosh-Darn-It-I’ve-Neglected-My-Blog-Long-Enough Promise…. It won’t be a month before I write some sort of piffle again.

So, to all of you who have sent us cards: We love them! We do. We proudly display them. And don’t let my lack of a reciprocal card make you feel neglected.

This year, I am conceding defeat. I will be sending out an e-card. Maybe. If I get it worked out. But, to prevent this problem from occurring again, I did grab all of the envelopes from last year’s Christmas cards (yes, they were saved in a stack….. because I needed the addresses….) and I went ahead and started our address list file.

So next year if I manage to get a card together, I”ll already have the addresses ready.

I sure hope that helps.

What about you? Do you send cards each year?

So, I took the meds and promptly passed out.

Very vaguely I have the memory of sitting up and sending a text before passing out again. Very vaguely I remember thinking “What’s that magazine I read on the pot today?” (TMI, I know….) and then I remember thinking “Oh, yeah! Ladies Home Journal!” (When in fact, it was actually Good Housekeeping….)

So, as I woke up and started remembering these strange pieces, I began getting very, very scared. Who did I write to and what on earth did I write?

Then I got more afraid when I realized I had written Army MacSki, my friend Nanny MacSki’s hubby. What did I say about toilets and women’s magazines to him?!?!

I was relieved to see that he had written me a comment about some creative writing he had done and I had merely replied that I was stealing it & contributing it to The Ladies Home Journal. No mention of toilets or anything obscene or embarassing. Still, tonight I am giving Raylo my phone and asking him to keep it away from me. I don’t want to get in trouble again for Texting Under the Influence.