Cabin

We used to go up to a cabin in Hobble Creek Canyon. It was generally the same group of people, Brent and I, my parents, my brothers and my Aunt Chandra and my cousin Stef. We would hang out, play a lot of games-it seems like Cataan really should have been settled by now-eat tasty food and just relax. We would also watch movies, and after awhile it became a contest to see who could bring the stupidest movie. I usually won that particular competition.

The most fun I ever had at the cabin was one October when we had three four-wheelers at the cabin. It had been raining, so the roads were fairly muddy. It was the afternoon of our last day, and for some reason Nate, my dad and I decided to go out for one last ride. It was freezing, it was muddy, and it was raining. I could barely see more than a few feet in front of me, and by the time we got back to the cabin we were all absolutely covered in mud. During the whole drive the thought that kept me going was that when I got back to the cabin I could get into the hot tub that was waiting for me. My dad was thinking the same thing. Unbeknownst to us, Nate had already drained the hot tub. You can imagine our disappointment when we returned to the cabin, muddy, wet and freezing, and there was no hot tub waiting for us. Since my shoes and pants were covered in mud, I ended up wearing my pajamas home. And since I had no extra shoes I seem to recall Brent helping me into the truck in my stocking feet.

Even though it took awhile to warm up, and we had to tease Nate about draining the hot tub for years, that is still one of the best times I ever had at the cabin. We haven't been up in a couple of years, and I'm not sure if or when we will go up again. Now that my mom is gone it's hard to muster the ambition to go up. My memories of the cabin are so full of memories of her that I just don't know if I'm ready to go back.

Gravy Train

It is not in your best interest to interrupt the gravy train. While I have no idea where that expression came from, I do have a lot of examples of why this is a bad idea. For starters, you will lose your supply of baked goods. I bake a lot. In fact, more than most people I know, and I will often share my plethora of baked goods with others. When someone says "Thank you. I love homemade bread," I appreciate it. When they are happy to get homemade from scratch brownies or cookies, I'm happy too. But when they say something like "oh, I don't eat flour any more" or "thanks but I'm on a diet" or "I don't like that anymore" it ticks me off. And when I'm ticked off, the baked goods stop coming. And when the diet inevitably ends, as they always do, no baked goods are coming anymore.

The same with movie and party invites. I understand that everyone can't go to everything. And I understand that things come up. But when you say you're coming and don't, and when I bought your movie ticket because you said you were coming and then you didn't, guess who isn't getting invited to the movies anymore. And guess who isn't invited to parties anymore?

And guess who is at the bottom of my list. And if you are at the bottom of my list, I am not going to go out of my way to help you. If you have a problem, you're going to have to deal with it on your own, because I'm done with you. The gravy train is no longer stopping at your stop. And it's your own fault.

The Hills Are Alive

You know, all Captain Von Trapp really needed was the Supernanny.

This is what I have determined after 5 months of rehearsals for The Sound of Music. We are now down to our final dress rehearsals and finally start performances next week. At this point I can't wait until it's over. It's been fun, somewhat, but this particular production of The Sound of Music has to be the biggest train wreck of any show I have ever been affiliated with. Not that I've been in a ton of shows. In fact, I haven't been in one since high school, but still, it has been a lot harder than it had to be.

Two weeks from now H will be at her kindergarten assessment, and all of this will be but a memory.

This post really sucks. Maybe when the play is over I will be getting more sleep and will be able to think a little more clearly. See, little more clearly doesn't even makes sense. Perhaps if I could think anything but Do, a deer, a female deer I could form a full and correct sentence.

Why is it?

Why is it that I can think of great blog posts while I'm driving down the road, but the minute I sit down at my computer they are gone?

Ditto on story ideas.

And why is it that now the I am not supposed to be doing much of anything in order to let my back heal up that I really want to restart P90x?

Why is it that you can have 200 channels and there still isn't anything on?

And why does your kid complain about being hungry and as soon as you stop and get them a kids meal they are no longer hungry?

And why can't I find my black velour sweat pants?

Why is it that kids only get sick in the middle of the night?

BUI (Or Help I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up)

Lortab makes you wonky. I'm only taking half a pill, and I'm still getting pretty loopy. According to the doctor my sacrosiliac joint is out of place. So it's off to the chiropractor again.

This whole thing started on Mother's Day when I bent slightly to pick something up out of the recliner. Twinge, spasm, zap, pow and my back was out. After calling to my husband to come help me straighten up, we iced it and I hobbled around for the rest of the day. After a visit to the chiropractor, pain meds and a few days of taking it easy, it felt better. Until today, when I tried to get a yogurt out of the fridge and it happened again. Only this time it was worse and I ended up laying on the kitchen floor for 15 minutes while H fretted about what to do. She decided we needed to call Daddy, except he was on an airplane and it wouldn't do any good.

After a bit of a rest and a few bitten back swear words I made it to the recliner and called my dad to come help me. After almost passing out from having a pain pill on an empty stomach, we managed to make it to the doctor.

So here I am sitting in my recliner, watching tv and being thankful that my husband bought me a netbook so I can at least Google my condition and keep up on Facebook.

Ouch!

I hurt my thumb so it's hard to type and I've been really busy with rehearsals for the Sound of Music. But I have thought of some good posts in my head so as soon as I can type again and remember them, I'll update this site.

Why I Hate Gum

I hate chewing gum. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I'd keep going on the hates, but I don't want to keep typing it, and I'm too lazy to cut and paste. Why do I hate gum, you might ask? It's complicated, and it wasn't always that way. When I was a little kid I used to love gum. My favorite was watermelon Bubbalicious. One year for my birthday I got a pink gumball machine. Gum was everywhere! And after it got into hair and the couch and carpet one too many times, my mom declared our house a gum free zone. And that was pretty much the end of my gum chewing. While I was once solidly on the side of gum chewer, or even on the fence, I am now completely in the gum is evil and should be banned camp. For awhile it was illegal to chew gum in Singapore. A country after my own heart.

What do I have against gum? Well, let's see.

First of all it's disgusting to listen to someone chew gum. Chomp chomp chomp. And it's more disgusting to watch them.

When people pop their gum it makes me want to pop them one.

People don't just put their gum in the trash when they are done with it. No, they spit it out on the ground, stick it under tables, on the outsides of trash cans; basically anywhere someone is guaranteed to step in it you can find it.

Children find dried up gum stuck under a table and put it in their mouths. Eww.

Have you tried getting gum out of carpet? Hair? Have you had someone tried to get gum out of your hair.

I can't stand the smell of it. Doesn't matter what flavor, and I especially hate mint.

It is unsightly to see a piece of chewed up gum on someone's plate. I don't want to see that. No one wants to see that.

I realize I am in the minority, and even my beloved Singapore repealed the gum ban. Within hours the sidewalk in front of the airport was covered in spit out gum, but that's what they get for backing down. I myself am even being a little lenient. My little 4-year-old has discovered gum. I have given her the following rules: if I ever find a piece of chewed gum in or near the car, you won't be chewing gum anymore. I find it on my floor or anywhere else in the house, you won't be chewing gum any more. If I have to cut it out of your hair, no more gum for you. And it gets spit out before coming to the dinner table, and it only gets spit in the kitchen trash. And if you swallow it, you're done with gum.

So far she's doing okay abiding by the rules, but one of these days she's going to mess up and then it's "Welcome to Singapore." No gum allowed.