Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Something I've always wanted to do and something I never knew I wanted to do

Today, we paid off the student loan in full and I made quinoa.

I think both are cause for celebration.

Also, I'm white-spacing out the goose. Be dead, already!

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Happy hymns and brand new hims

It's always a special treat at church when we get to sing "Go Tell Aunt Rhodie." You know: Go tell Aunt Rhodie, go tell Rhodie, go tell Aunt Rhodie the old grey goose is dead. Always with that song, it's grey with an e, even though I just googled the lyrics (dark lyrics, them) and it had gray with an a. It's not a terribly popular hymn, so when on that special occasion we do get to sing it, and always at the end of the meeting, I get really excited and want to do like I did when I was a child, and look around the congregation to see if anyone else thinks it's funny that we're singing "Go Tell Aunt Rhodie." Nobody ever seems to think it's funny, but oh! how it makes my day.

It reminds me of that time when someone had recorded two movies from the tv onto the same video tape and, every day for an entire summer, Neil and I and probably Abby and sometimes Sarah, but probably not Ryan would watch (edited for tv) Ferris Bueller's Day Off followed by (edited for tv) Dirty Dancing. I mean, we watched them every day. The great thing was, Jennifer Grey (always with an e) was in both movies. Pre-nose job.
Well, sometime after this summer of great cinematic indulgence, we were sitting in church and the congregation began singing the closing hymn, and Neil and I looked at each other and burst out in hysterical laughter. We were singing the song from Dirty Dancing! Even some of the lyrics were the same: "voices, hearts, and hands." Many a time, including tonight (unsuccessfully), I have pored over the hymn book, trying to find that one hymn that is from Dirty Dancing. It makes me so happy. Bonus points if anyone out there knows the hymn to which I refer. I will find it soon, even if I have to play every hymn on the piano until I recognize it. I've done it before and I'm not above doing it again.

Anyway, there's another song that I sometimes hear in church that makes me really excited, too. On rare occasions, I will be early to church. Also on rare occasions, the organist will be playing classical music for the prelude. Okay, mostly just this one organist named Rita Mitchell, but Rita Mitchell used to play classical prelude organ music, and if things were going my way, and I was there early to experience it, she would play the second movement from Beethoven's Pathetique. This was so awesome. I would have Billy Joel in my head for the whole rest of the day. "This night is mi-i-i-i-ine. It's only you and I. Tomorrow is such a long time away. This night will last forever."

In unrelated and much more important news. . . . I have another adorable nephew! Owen is his name and sleeping is his game. He is adorable. Congratulations, Sarah and Mark!

Sunday, February 12, 2006

That's what it's all about

This weekend,

1. I danced the Hokey Pokey with a room full of sober adults.
2. Steve is retiring his signature back handspring.
3. A giant rugburn wound adorns my husband's forehead.

These three things have everything to do with each other.

Friday, February 10, 2006

Someday Kentucky

States I've been to and have distinct memories from:

States I've probably been to, especially since I was supposedly born in one of them, but I do not recall being there:

State in which we spent $50 tonight to take the family to Nanny McPhee:

State where every house is worth a million dollars according to

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Do you valet?

We have had some super experiences with valet parking.

A few years ago, we were at Amy June's wedding luncheon in southern California at a restaurant with complimentary and mandatory valet parking. We had driven our really nice car to California: our 1990 Chevy Lumina Euro that we had inherited from Steve's grandpa and which had sat in a field in Canada for a year and a half, with its window down. It may have been the only rusted-all-over car in the entire state of Arizona, but oh! was it reliable. When we got the vehicle, it was like 11 years old and had only 20,000 kilometers on it. It seriously had no mechanical problems and since Steve and I are not all that into appearances, we drove it everywhere. Maybe not proudly, but we weren't too embarrassed. After all, it was a free car that ran perfectly! So we drove that car to California for Amy's wedding, leaving our much-newer-but-much-less-reliable lemon of a car at home.

Alright, so maybe it was a little embarrassing at Amy June's wedding when we parked next to my old college roommate and dear friend and she and her husband got out of their, like, $80,000 something or other brand new luxury sedan, and we were wiping Cheerios off the red vinyl backseat of our looks-like-it-belongs-in-a-junkyard Lumina. But we were not about to play the comparison game, so we let it roll off our backs.

But the valet parking incident was almost too much. You see, although the car drove with no problems, there were definitely problems with the body. Just recently, the driver's side door handle had jammed, making it necessary to reach in through the window and open the door from the inside. So we were at the valet, and Steve explained the situation and told him not to roll up the window, or they wouldn't be able to get in.

After a lovely luncheon extravaganza, it was time to collect the car and head back to the hotel. The valet ran off to get our car in the very furthest row of the parking lot. He seemed to be taking a long time, and we could tell that he was struggling with the driver's side door handle. Of course, they had rolled up the windows! So my husband walked all the way to the back of the parking lot, re-explained about the door, and that the guy would have to get in from the passenger side. Then Steve walked all the way back to the front of the restaurant and waited patiently while the valet drove our car up. We tipped him for his lovely services, and we left, laughing hysterically at what had just transpired.

There are some things that are just too sophisticated for us folks, and valet parking has proven to one of them.

Saturday, February 04, 2006


My son has a pretty bad rash on his arms, so, in trying to think what could have caused it, I remembered that a few days ago he was in the front yard, pulling leaves off of bushes and trying to make a bird's nest with them. Then I remembered that some of the plants in our front yard are poisonous, so I went directly online to see if touching oleanders=rash on skin. And what did I find out about that oleander shrub?

"All of its parts are very poisonous. For example, one leaf is enough to cause death."
"The characteristic poisoning symptoms are as follows: nausea, vomiting, accelerated or retarded heartbeat, and cardiac arrest."
"So powerful is this poison that a single leaf of an oleander can kill a child. And, many people have died merely from eating steaks speared on oleander twigs and roasted over a fire."
"TOXICITY RATING: High. Ingestion of even small amounts can kill."

Oh. My. Gosh. Why has nobody told me this before?

That plant is so outta here. I may not sleep well until it is gone.

Blahg blahg blahg

My husband tells me I go through stages. For awhile I was addicted to Yahoo computer games. Then, I was a sucker for watching Starting Over every day. After that phase passed (and thank goodness) I had a brief love affair with family history. You get the idea. Blogs have been my diversion of choice lately, but...Blogging Is Starting To Bore Me.

Thus, I've had nothing interesting to say lately. I haven't even read many of all the fun blogs out there that I used to be so hooked on. I am nothing if not a creature of change. So, I'm metamorphosing. I may come back in full force, but I may also take up knitting or quilting or Family Feud or some other temporary obsession. I'll let you know what happens.