My husband took me out to dinner tonight because he’s awesome like that. I had chips and spinach dip for an appetizer and couldn’t even take one bite of my cheeseburger.

Then, as we were leaving Ryan was carrying my drink for me. I joked, be careful not to drop that.
Turns out Ryan is just like some all of our kids.
He dropped my drink.
I laughed really good. Stopped laughing, then started laughing again. It was awesome.

But there was also this: This is a picture of what was on the car parked in front of us.

I believe in the right for that person to have that stupid magnetic ribbon on the back of their car, and even the right to pursue such a career.
However, I also believe I have the right to hate it.

And I do.
Hate it.
Support Strippers? Really?

Give me one good reason why.

As if there isn’t enough of that already. We’re in a recession already, people. Don’t too many family’s much needed dollars already go down the drain for stuff like this?
Wouldn’t, support your families be better than support some addiction that robs otherwise strong families of peace, money, and healthy, trusting marriages?

I could go into detail about how much I hate this stuff but this is a mostly G rated blog.

So I’ll stop my little rant here and move on…

Right now we’re at a garage sale. A January garage sale. Here in Florida they are year round affairs. Numerous garage sales every weekend.

I’m sitting in the car because it’s primarily a tool garage sale.
And I have a husband.
And it’s 40 degrees outside.

When we first got here and walked up, there were two young ladies, maybe 19 or 20 years old, smoking cigarettes in the open garage where the majority of the for sale stuff was sitting.

But this post isn’t about cigarettes, really.
I mean it is.  But it’s not.

When the girls saw me they started flipping out saying, quite animatedly, There’s smoke in here, there’s cigarette smoke in here!

I guess I look pregnant or something, maybe?

I thanked them for the warning and proceeded into the garage to take a quick look see. I don’t handle cigarette smoke well when I’m pregnant but wanted to see what was for sale really quick before I turned to walk back out.
And do you know what those girls did? They immediately put out their cigarettes.

Now, I’m no advocate for smoking.
But I am a strong advocate for courteousy.
I smoked for about 5 years and I didn’t care a lick what other people said about the smell or how bad smoking was because they were all just dramatic cigarette smoker haters. Just ask my non smoking sister.  I was obnoxious.
I had a right to smoke, you know?

I’ve grown up since then and haven’t smoked in more than 13 years. I realize what other people were talking about now.

But again, this post isn’t really about that. 

So, when these two girls, in their own garage, at their own house, after warning me, put their half smoked cigarettes out, I was so surprised.

They didn’t have to put the things out and I would have never expected them to.
But they did and I was impressed. Our younger generation doesn’t tend to show that kind of courtesy much these days.

So I had to blog about it because it made me happy.

This post was actually about young adults being unusually courteous. And although that makes me happy, it also makes me kind of sad in a way.  Sad that it is so rare that I felt it blog worthy.

I’m laying here trying to be sleepy and I see a mosquito at the top of my ceiling starting down upon me.

Yes. I know I like to make my non-floridian friends jealous by frequently commenting on how glorious the weather is here. However there is this drawback.

We have these evil little blood suckers in January.

I said to Ryan, who is laying beside me playing what appeares to be a very important game of Angry Birds on his phone,There is a mosquito up there staring at us, just waiting for us to fall asleep so he can eat our faces.

He looked up from his game, noticed the evil being up there and replied, No. Not our faces. Just yours. Then he promptly turned his attention back to his game.

Can’t really blame him. The ceiling is really high and I think he reserves most of his late night heroism for spiders and palmetto bugs.

Some things just have to stay special, you know?

So, if I wake up tomorrow itchy and dead you’ll all know why.

There are things my husband likes that I just don’t.
Flying is one.  Engines.  Tools.  Breakfast sausage. Large, obnoxious TVs. Home Depot. Trucks that don’t run good because they need just a little fixin’ up. Video Games…

You get what I’m saying.

And you can add horror movies to that list.

We watched a horrific movie last night.
Actually, we isn’t the most accurate term I could use here. Ryan watched a horrific movie last night.  I typed out a blog post with my thumbs on my phone.  I tried to hold up the phone in front of my face so I couldn’t see what was happening.  But, the man likes big TVs.  (On a side note I’d like to point out that we don’t even have cable or satellite.  We just have a big TV.  We bought the big TV at Costco in a fit of complete money spending madness when we didn’t have cable or satellite. I’m not sure there is a point here… Maybe it’s that Costco is the devil. Consider yourself warned.)

Back to the movie I was trying not to watch… While I wouldn’t say the movie was scary, it was quite disturbing.  I wouldn’t suggest you watch it.

I can’t remember what it was called, but just don’t watch it.

I’m full of good advice today, yes?

So I’ll leave you with one last bit.

You know remotes? Like the kind that go with your husband’s new movie holder computer drive thingy that was not really cheap?
Yeah, that. Well, don’t let your toddler stick it in your drink when you’re not looking.

Don’t ask why. Just take my word for it. It’s not a good idea.

Dear Lady With All The Kids,
Why are most of your blog post titles in lowercase letters? This is bad grammer. You should stop.
Sincerely,
A concerned person.

Dear Concerned Person,
First, you spelled ‘grammar’ wrong. Just sayin’.

Second, thank you for your concern.

Third, I like to do things just a little differently. It’s taken some time for me to become like this as I haven’t always been cool with being odd. I remember a time when I desperately wanted to fit in with some group, any group. But now fitting in seems so 17. So childish.
So then.

So, the answer to your questions is, I don’t know.  I’ve never thought about this before. I guess I often title my blog posts in all lowercase letters because it’s slightly rebellious without being over the top. That sounds like me.  So it’s probably spot-on.

I guess I could go the popular route to be different.  Like dye my hair black, or pierce something.  However, I find that it’s more different to just leave my hair it’s natural color. Nobody does that anymore.

You know, there are people who write their entire blog posts in lowercase. Without apostrophes. Saying things like thx instead of thanks. And overusing LOL, ROFL, or ROFLMBO, or some other semblance of I’m too lazy to actually type something for real nonsense.

That annoys me. Just saying that I get where you’re coming from.

Maybe it’s like a game for them. Let’s see how badly we can write and still be legible. Or maybe it’s some kind of club. A bad grammar club. Kinda like the iStuff club.
Epic people only, please!

Or Saturn. Remember the Saturn club? One time my sister bought a Saturn. There was all this club hype, but it really just turned out to be a clever marketing ploy that caused people to spend all their money on a snazzy car so other people would feel like they were missing out on something.

I wonder, what’s all this hype about being just like the next person?

I don’t necessarily have a good reason for the way I feel. I guess longing to fit in isn’t a bad thing, really. I’m just not into that scene. I look for ways to truly be different.
Not stand out in a crowd different.

Just different.

I guess, when you think about it though, being different could actually be it’s own genre of club.

Um…

No. I wouldn’t know what to do with that sort of reality.

So I’m just going to keep typing my blog titles in lowercase and not dye my hair and call it good and different.

And maybe just a little weird. Which suits me just fine.

Sincerely,
Lady With All The Kids

I’ve decided that it’s time to put my cleaning posts in check.

I am going to make more of an effort to post stuff that has absolutely nothing to do with messiness or picking up or natural disasters or my living room.

This could pose a bit of a challenge right now as I’m 34 weeks with child and my focus, which I am sure is purely a hormone driven madness, is reddin’ up the homestead for the new baby.

That and sleeping.

Right now we’re watching Poltergeist. You know, that terribly fightening movie from the 80’s? I’m a little relieved, and a little disappointed at the same time that it’s just not as suspensful and disturbing as I think Mr. Spielberg intended.

Except for the maggot part. And the weird way that little clairvoyant lady talks.
I’m gonna have nightmares for weeks about that.

There are also those giant glasses the red headed lady wears.

Maybe this is a scary movie after all.

And the wall paper…

What a weird family.

Amy posted this very well timed CS Lewis quote today from his book, The Screwtape Letters.  It’s quite fitting this time of year.  It’s a letter from one demon to another so make sure to read it in that context.

Whatever he says, let his inner resolution be not to bear whatever comes to him, but to bear it ‘for a reasonable period’ –and let the reasonable period be shorter than the trial is likely to last. It need not be much shorter; in attacks on patience, chastity, and fortitude, the fun is to make the man yield just when (had he but known it) relief was almost in sight.

I recommend The Screwtape Letters to everybody.  What perspective it gives.

When I was little I had a huge Cathy doll that was something like 6 feet tall. 

I’m not kidding. Really.

Okay, maybe I should be more realistic and say she probably wasn’t 6′ tall.  But, to a 4 year old a 3′ doll is giant.  And I remember Cathy being 6′ tall. 

I don’t know if she was a famous Chatty Cathy, I don’t remember her talking.  Maybe my mom will read this and answer that question for me.

Mom? Are you there?

Anyway, so I had this not-so-giant, giant doll.  I remember cherishing her greatly but it was not because of her giant doll-like status.  I remember loving her because when I turned her upside down and pushed her by her feet she became a fabulous vacuum cleaner. 

Her poor shiny golden locks didn’t stay beautiful for very long.

Today is Christmas.  Ben received this 30″ tall Batman that he’s wanted willy badly for 2 years now.  We found one in close to perfect condition at the thrift store and snatched it up for him.

He was quite pleased.

But guess what he did with it almost right away.

He did not make Batman noises with it or use it as a superhero or anything expected of a 5 year old with a giant Batman figure.  And, no, he did not pretend it was a vacuum cleaner.  That would be too girly for him. 
Instead of that predictable nonsense Ben turned Batman onto his head and started steering him with his legs saying that he was a tractor.

I guess this form of giant doll figure mis-usage is genetic.

Heaven forbid I call Batman a doll…

Merry Christmas!

Nothing monumental has happened today so I have nothing to blog about. And that’s fine by me.
However, I’ve read that a journaler (yes, it’s a word – just ask me) should write everyday.  And if you don’t feel you have anything to blog about or journal or however it is that you log your thoughts, you should just sit down and write.

Anything.  Whatever pops in your head.

So that’s what I’m doing.  I’m writing anything.  Not so much because I feel the need to write.  But because I’m riding in the car and I’m terribly bored.

It’s not working.

I still don’t have anything to blog about.  And I’m still bored.

Maybe I should write that Jesse(2) is entertaining us here in the front half of the van.  He’s singing, no handle bars, no handle bars, no handle bars, no handle bars, no handle bars, no handle bars, no handle bars, no handle bars…

It goes on and on. 

and on

and on

…

Or that Matthew(7) gets carsick when he plays video games in the car.  So we tell him, Matthew, remember that playing the game boy in the car makes you feel sick.

So he does it anyway and then cries suddenly because, I feel like I’m going to throw up.

This is a regular occurrence. 

Hello? Hello?…  Anybody home?  Think, Mcfly, think!

I could write how Sam talks about what it was like when he was 3.  For example, if Jesse slips in the dirt Sam might say something like,  Yep.  I used to slip in the dirt when I was 3.

But Sam is 3.

Or I could always just blog about the weather.
Today is significantly warmer than it has been lately.  It getting close to 70 degrees and that, people, is weather to celebrate.   I’m in the Christmas spirit!
I grew up in Charleston, SC.  I remember getting a lavender jacket I didn’t know I really, really wanted for Christmas one year when I was 9 or 10 or something.  I tried to wear it over to my friend’s house across the street but my mom said no, it was just too warm.  I was so disappointed. 

I look back and laugh at my then-self. 

Waking up to 80 degrees on Christmas day is like waking up in heaven. Only without the harps.

Ryan disagrees.  Strongly.

But he doesn’t like a lot of good things.  Like sweet tea.  Or flavored coffee creamer.  And he does like  Lowe’s, science and math, and flying helicopters. 

I don’t think I will ever get him.

In the tool section of Home Depot this time.
This is me being the good wife again.

Nobody is greasy today. But the balding guys are wearing their favorite winter caps.

Cause it’s like 50 degees outside. I guess that could make a hairless man a little chilly.

The only women I see are the employees. One solicited clean water to us. I wonder how she could tell by looking at us that we were toilet water drinkers.
It was a little weird.

We’re actually at the checkout now!
This was our fastest Home Depot trip ever – I wonder if Ryan has a fever or something.

Ooohhh… Maybe now we have time to stop at Walmart.