Personal Blog of Author Kathryn Thompson
It would appear that Laylee has started a blog without telling me. And her subject matter makes mine look like the slow bus of bloggage.
“Mom, I want to blog my Pla-to.”
Oh, really? He’s good, but I prefer Nietzsche.
Today for Tip Tuesday, I’m asking for some creative topics for future Tip Tuesdays. They don’t have to be philosophic masterpiece-type ideas – just things we all have burning questions about.
Last night I saw a fat woman dancing ballet with her eyes closed in the textured ceiling above my bed. I blinked and she was gone.
This is the best meme ever, which I discovered over at Catez’s website a while back. It’s a great one to get to know new people. Please feel free to email your answers directly to me.
What is your full name?
Kathryn Miranda Octavius Magooly Daring
What is your date of birth?
I could be a reincarnation of Elvis.
What four cities have you lived in?
Enchilada Town
Pizza-ville
I cannot count.
What four TV shows do you love?
The Office
So You Think You Can Paint My Garage — new reality show where slackers get voted ON to do more paint duty, rather than voted off
The West Wing
The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
What four credit cards do you currently use?
Enchilada Town (Bean Miles Visa Rewards Card)
Canadian Express
Dude. We just moved into a new house. I use anything Home Depot will accept.
What are four credit account numbers assigned you, and when (month/year) do they expire?
Does it count as “expiring” if your Magoo sucks on them and then tosses them over the side of the cart?
Do you have four credit card pin numbers, and if so, what are they?
1111
1111
1111
1111
What does your mother’s maiden name look like if you type it four times in a row? Frankenthandler
Frankenthandler
Jones
Frankenthandler
What are the first four digits of your social security number?
0039
What are the last four digits of your social security number?
7691
What number did you leave out of your nine-digit social security number? (That’s your lucky number!)
0 — what a stupid lucky number. This meme is getting way DUMB!
What are the first four lines of your mailing address?
Daring Manor
57993 West Darrington Circle
Seattle Suburarina, WA
98888
What are your four favorite banks?
My piggy bank
The banks of the Puget Sound
Secret Agent Cody
I’ll have whatever Dan’s having.
What are your four favorite bean dishes?
White Chicken Cilantro Chili
Uncle Brent’s Baked Beans
Refried Beans by Grammy
Papa’s Famous Fiendish Bean-Dish
What four people do you wish to tag with this meme?
Why stop at four? I would like all of my readers to fill this out as soon as may be. I would especially encourage those who make a combined annual income of over $300,000 to complete it, as they are richer and will therefore have more fun playing this game.
This information will be collected and used in any way deemed appropriate by aforementioned Daring Young Mom or her subsidiaries.
I’ve decided that buying a house is a lot like having kids. When you decide to do it, everyone tells you what a big fat hairy adjustment it is, how much work and added responsibility it will require but that it’s totally worth it.
You think, “I’m sure it was a big adjustment for you because you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. I, on the other hand, have read What to Expect the first 10 Years For Every Personality Type, Secrets of a Woman Who Talks Very Softly to Small Children, Logical Love, and On Being Midget-Knowledgeable from cover to cover. I KNOW what I’m doing. I’ll actually get more done once the baby’s born because she’ll sleep all the time and I’ll have so much more energy once I’m not pregnant anymore.”
Then they’re born and you feel like you’ve been run over by a truck. What!? This was NOT what I expected. Yes, there are the sublime moments but those people were right. It is a TON of work. The work seems never to end. Your life will never be the same again and you have moments where you ask yourself, “Why did we do this to ourselves again?” The answer quickly comes and you know you would never go back on your decision, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said it wasn’t hard.
That is so much the way it’s been with this house so far. We’ve been here a week, spent thousands of dollars repairing things, buying new appliances, and lawn equipment. Add to all this the heat and the fact that a gelatinous blob of goob has taken over the upper third of my body and you’ve got a pretty rough week. (I’m really starting to wonder how I can blow my nose this many times. Where do I store all the goob? Is my brain so small that I can fit that much junk in my head?)
Then Karli came over a couple of days ago and helped me rediscover the things I love about my yard and house. She’s the kind of friend you need when you move into a new home. I will lend her out to you for a small fee. She pointed out every good thing about the floorplan and finishes. Then she took me on a tour of our wild backyard that I haven’t had time to explore.
Little Miss Horticulture discovered ripe strawberries, raspberries and blackberry vines. She found several rose bushes in full bloom, hidden behind the overgrown bamboo. I have an herb garden with dill and rosemary. There are morning glories, lilacs, lavender and a billion other gorgeous flowers.
This is the view from my bed in the morning.
This is what I see from my back fence.
Here is my hearth.
Where the cactuses will live.
The red doors.
And I’m glad we bought it. And I’m tired. And I’d love ideas for how to de-goob my head and lungs.
Monday was another scorching hot day in rural Seattle with highs reaching into the low 90s.
Thou darest to call me a wuss?
Ha HA! Well it may seem a bit more scorcherific if you picture unpacking boxes all day in a house with no window screens that backs onto a lovely bug and Bambi infested forest. Seeing as we don’t want Bambi or the killer flies to enter our domicile, we kept the windows closed most of the day and let the sun bake us to a crisp.
Two weeks until the window screen maker guys can come out. We may try to make some of our own tomorrow. The Home Depot home improvement specialist did indicate that a hacksaw would be involved so I’ll keep you updated on the status of my appendages… not those ones!
And now for another installment of Conversations with Laylee:
Driving in the car
Laylee: AAAAHHHH!!!!!
Me: What!?
Laylee: That guy’s head is blowing all around in the wind!
Me [frantically looking, expecting to see some guy’s head hanging out the window, bobbing around like a balloon on a string in a wind-tunnel]: Where?
Just then, an older gentleman passed me on the left, driving a vintage convertible, his silver hair gently rustling in the breeze, like he was posing for a Vogue for Old Guys in Convertibles cover-shoot.
Laylee: That’s so FUNNY. His car has no lid on top of it!
Today please give tips for keeping cool this summer. First, I would suggest taking the lid off your van or at the very least cranking the air conditioning and blasting Bob Marley on your stereo. Also, don’t move (at all… just remain seated) if it’s hot where you live and try not to wear any clothes.
Man I wish I could still run around like a little muffin-bum in a diaper and a onesie.
This doesn’t smell like my house. There are new weeds growing since we got the keys on Thursday and there are no condo association “guys” to come and obliterate them. We are the guys.
We’re also the guys who need to replace the refrigerator tomorrow. Crazy thing about us, we like freezers that FREEZE food. We also like outlets that provide power. Hence a call has been made to the electrician.
I have discovered that I have a “bum-leg”. It is my right leg and it doesn’t look like a bum. If I’m using that expression properly, I think it means that it just hurts a lot when I threaten to do something that smells of work. What a weird expression. I guess I could also say I have a “bum-finger” and a “bum-back”. But I wouldn’t risk saying “bum” anything to Laylee.
Yesterday I told her I was “pooped” and you can only imagine the hilarity that ensued. It was somewhat close to the Chaucerian 12-year-old-boyish delight I experienced when I found a typo online a couple of years ago about a disabled man who had been confined to a wheelchair after he was tragically “shat”. I can imagine that would do the body some damage.
The backyard is wonderful. Bamboo is taking over the world.
I actually packed dirty dishes and dirty laundry and I’m pretty sure I haven’t found them yet. I think they’re in a garbage bag somewhere with my brain… and possibly my digital camera. It may be a while before I post pictures of the house. I haven’t seen it since we got home from Houston (the camera, not the house).
I still feel like we made the right decision and this will be “home” someday, the home where our kids will spend a good portion of their growing-up years. But at this very moment it feels like some interlopers are about to honeymoon in my home and as I went to say goodbye to the old pad, I realized I had locked myself out with “their” keys to “their” new condo on the counter inside with a note welcoming them.
Yeah…”welcome”… and so help me if you don’t treat her well.
Pick me up some apple boxes while you’re at the grocer. We’re moving, you see…
Everywhere we go, Laylee begs for “more doom please.” Sadly, she’s not tall enough to experience anything but the most juvenile form of doom. At the Houston Aquarium they have a miniature Drop of Doom with some pansy name like “The Magic Lighthouse” or something else equally inane. Luckily the girl can’t read so I introduced it to her as “The Drop of Doom” and to the protestations of Dan and Grammy I took her for a ride.
Why they would be concerned about her dropping in 2 story freefall repeatedly, I’ll never know. She almost didn’t have a meltdown on the seahorse merry-go-round so I thought she was certainly ready to try out something a little more adventurous. As per usual, I was correct.
Her commentary as we rode the ride one billion times consisted of 2 phrases repeated over and over again. “Hold tight to me Mommy” and “Again Please.”
Now everywhere we go, she’s on the lookout. “More doom PLEASE!” I’ll see what I can conjure up for you, sweet pea.
Due to the fact that Grammy and Papa are much smarter than Mom and Dad, sweet pea Laylee has developed some added creativity in her parental manipulation techniques.
After over an hour of swimming:
Papa: Okay kiddo, I think it’s time to get out.
Laylee: I don’t think so.
Papa: Oh really? Come on.
Laylee: No, my clock says it’s not time to get out.
Papa: You don’t have a clock.
Laylee: Yes I do.
Papa: Where is it?
Laylee: It’s right here. (pointing to a wet spot on the pool deck)
Papa: Oh really, and what does it say?
Laylee: It says it’s not time to get out yet.
Then last night at dinner, Laylee informed us that she needed to spit out the green bean in her mouth because her teeth were too tired to chew it. “My teeth are SO sleepy.” Yah-huh? Well, my uvula’s practically been in a coma for 3 weeks now and you don’t see me complaining. Chew the darn green bean.
Being out here in the Bible belt, Magoo’s picked up some added religiosity. Since we’ve been in Texas with Grammy and Papa, he’s not only learned to fold his arms for prayer but he has also been healed. Yes folks, he who was lame can now walk, or at least careen around like a flailing psychobot.
It’s the summer. I’m on vacation. It appears that many of you are on vacation now or are soon to head out on your own adventures. What are your tried and true methods for making sure things go smoothly in your travels? HA HA! We all know that’s not possible. So, how do you at least minimize the chaos? (Laylee calls the sunscreen “frosting”)
Here are a few tips from the DYM:
1. Always refer to yourself in the third person, hopefully in acronym form, while on vacation.
2. Pack a separate bag for each person, regardless of the size (of the person or the bag). This way you’ll have less chance of your three year old wearing your infant’s full-length jeans as capri pants.
3. If you’re staying for longer than 5 days, unpack your clothes and organize them if storage is available.
4. Don’t forget your swimsuit if your parents have a pool in their backyard and end up buying the least nappy suit left on the picked-over racks at Wal-Merto.
5. Make the lists. First do a master list of items each person will need (ex. Pez Dispensers). Then create a list of items specific to the individuals (ex. Snow white attire). Make a list of group-use items (ex. Squeegee). List items for carry-on luggage. Lastly, make a list of things you will need to grab last minute as you leave the house.
6. Bring all pertinent house-selling and buying info with you, if you plan to close on two house deals the week you get back in town.
7. For the plane ride, pack a bag with lots of easily accessible pockets. Memorize the contents of the pockets so you can reach down and grab a wipe, a headset, or a goldfish (I choose the cracker variety) in 2 seconds or less. Mary Poppins’s bag may look cool, holding all that stuff, but think how long it took her to find anything in there. What seatmate, including your child, is gonna put up with a pole lamp on their lap while you dig around for the duct tape?
8. Have fun and share your secrets here.
Lessons learned from watching the Stanley Cup finals with Daddy and Papa.
Next up – the finer points of cross-checking.