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Updated: 2018-03-06T17:15:09.716-07:00


It was so bad, I had to start blogging again...


I went out of town this week to present at a STEM conference, leaving L and the boys home alone and under the excellent care of our dog, Kona.  You would think if there were trouble, it would be from the ten year old or eight year old, right?  Right?  Not so much, as it turns out.

After returning to my hotel one night, I called L to see how things were going. He didn't answer.  I thought, "poor baby!  It's only 10:30 and the children have so exhausted him that he's collapsed in bed for the night!"  I only wish.

He called back in a few minutes to tell me his tale.  Are you ready?  Warning:  I wish he had never, ever, never told me this!

After letting Kona out for her 10 o' clock pee, he couldn't get her to come back in.  In fact, he couldn't even see her.  Now, we just moved and have a much bigger yard than she previously reigned over, with a small patch of woods at the back of our property.  It was raining, and L went looking for our wayward dog.  Side note:  L swears he wants submissive and sweet women in his life.  But he married me, and he picked out Kona.  Methinks he doth protest too much.

Upon finding our little dog, he beheld that she had something in her mouth.  He thinks it was brain or organ tissue.  Ewwwww.  After making her give it to him, he had to decide what to do with it.

Let's all take a moment to think about what we would have done in the same situation.  Got it in your mind?  Then we shall return to our tale.

Worried that if he put it in the trash it would stink, he PUT.IT.DOWN,THE.GARBAGE.DISPOSAL.  In my kitchen.  Where I cook things that don't usually contain raccoon rabies.  Can you feel my horror?  I mean, come on.  The kitchen is not where you get rid of your dog's fresh kill.  It's just not.

Needless to say, I was/am mad, horrified, germaphobic, and pretty sure I should start rabies shots prophylacticly.  Oh, and it stinks.  Like dead stuff.  I tried putting Drano down it, and it did help the smell, but when I tried to move the rubber thing out of the way and look down there, I saw something like looks like a squid.  Or a chihuahua.  L thinks it is skin.  Skin that won't be chopped and that will live there forever.  

We're buying a new garbage disposal tomorrow.  The end.

                          She doesn't look like a killer, but...

Count Your Blessings


True story: It took me approximately five minutes to remember how to log into blogger so I could post this. Wow. I'm pathetic and my memory is definitely not what it used to be. Of course, L's been telling me this for years. Years, I tell you!

I got this little poem in an email today and I liked it. As a person who really, really enjoys dwelling on the negatives when given a chance, I need to remember to, well, not do that. And I need a lot of reminders. I'm also thinking this will be some good copy work for my #1 student one of these days. Tee hee... And speaking of said student, he needs someone to get him back on track with his current copy work ("It is not a bad rip, but rips are not fun if you get wet. Don and Jill set up two cots in the tent.").

Count Your Blessings-Author Unknown

Count your blessings instead of your crosses;
Count your gains instead of your losses.
Count your joys instead of your woes;
Count your friends instead of your foes.
Count your smiles instead of your tears;
Count your courage instead of your fears.
Count your full years instead of your lean;
Count your kind deeds instead of your mean.
Count your health instead of your wealth;
Count on God instead of yourself.

In Which I Cannot Think Of An Interesting Title...


Apparently, H2 heard me ask my Mom to bring her steam cleaner by yesterday evening. I know this, because he felt free to poop all over the floor in his room at some point during the night. Thanks for that, kid.

In other news, I'm in love with this lemonade I discovered in some hippie e-book I downloaded. We'll call it Hippie Lemonade. And if you are like me (i.e., in some long ago, pagan time, you would have pledged yourself to the temple of some sugary beverage and served for many a year with sugary devotion), you will love it. And it has like, no calories. Ok, maybe a few from the lemon juice, but I'm going with the few enough in a single serving to count method of figuring. Me and the FDA.

Hippie Lemonade
2 lemons

Juice the two lemons (you want fresh, not the bottle stuff), and pour in a 2 qt container. Fill the rest of the container with water. Add stevia and enjoy (well, maybe stir it first...) For my stevia and my tastebuds, I use about 1/2 teaspoon. You'll need to experiment with your brand of stevia, probably.

Oh, Bother...


I'm not doing to well with my resolution, am I? If it makes you feel any better, my other resolution has gone to pot as well. Today was supposed to be my first time back to the gym in about 23 years. Alas, I stayed up too late with L watching the Millionaire Matchmaker last night, and the ensuing sleeping in threw my whole day off. Have seen her, by the way? She's so mean. It's like a train wreck I can't turn away from.

So, now I'm waiting for the nutjobs to finish their lunches, then we are off to WalMart, then to get my allergy shot (which I can no longer get between the hours of 11 and 1, and guess when I have always gone to get it...), then home for the little monster to nap whilst Hatchling and I finish school. We're a bit behind, having taken off Monday since Daddy was home and having taken off yesterday because Hatchling lost the ability to preform fundamental tasks, such as clean his room within the very strict 5 hour time limit. Never fear, though! Boy buckled down in my bathroom floor and did all three days worth of math while I got ready this morning, so we'll catch up on language arts (reading/writing for you non-homeschoolers) this afternoon. Our readings I don't worry about, since we are usually ahead on those anyway. My kids love to be read to! In fact, Hatchling will always choose to quit playing Wii a few minutes early if it means he gets bedtime stories (which are really just school masquerading as bedtime stories, bwa ha ha).

Welcome to January!


Greetings, Earthlings! How is 2010 shaping up for you so far? My personal resolution this year, besides losing weight (like any good American), is to blog more. I'm not off to a bang up start, I know, but I'm doing the best I can, OK?

Today, I shall tell you all about my favorite Christmas present. It's timely, considering it is insanely cold here, and the cold makes me want to curl up into a ball and die a frozen death. Dear God, why was I not born in Hawaii? Are mild southern winters to be the thorn in my flesh? But I digress...

My lovely sister, who lives in that most frozen state of Colorado, got me the bestest socks ever. Ever, people. I mean, if you don't have these socks, you just aren't living up to your full potential. So without further ado, here they are!

These are some sort of snowboarding socks, or some such silly sport in which I would most likely incur a mortal wound from which I would never recover. That's the thing with mortal wounds, you know- you just don't get better. But about my socks! They are from Smartwool(image) , and they are insanely expensive. Like, over twenty bucks a pair. BUT, oh so worth it.

True confession: since opening my socks on Christmas Eve, I've been wearing them something like 5 days a week, with a day or two off for washing. Isn't that disgusting? I can't help it, I love them so much. They keep me warm all the way to my knobby little knees, and they bring me all kinds of joy. You should go order yourself a pair, so you can have the joy, too. I should order myself another pair so I can have even more joy. Let's all order socks today, as we sit inside and freeze our little tushies off! It's retail therapy at its finest, no?

I really should order H2 some, for when he sees his coat in my hands, he starts crying and screaming, "Scary!" Apparently, little Guatemalans feel like I do about the cold. Perhaps even a bit more vehemently. No playing in the snow for that kid!

We're Ba-ack!


We're back from a week at the happiest place on Earth. The place where your children will scream, cry, throw kicking tantrums in every imaginable public place, use abhorrent table manners, and in general, make you look like an awful parent. And as an added bonus- you get to pay out the nose for this treatment! But when you have these sweet vacation photos to look back on, you convince yourself it was all worth it!Oh, I had so much fun with my Mom for a whole week. Even though she lives just a few minutes away, I don't get to see her nearly enough. I'm trying to get her to move into our spare room (I haven't told L that yet, but I'm certain he wouldn't mind). Thanks for putting up with us for a week, Mom!On our way we down, we missed not one but TWO connections. So instead of getting to the parks by 2, we barely made our 5:40 dinner reservation at Chef Mickey's. We did make it though, which was good because it was the only character meal we had scheduled for the whole week.H2 is not sure what to think...Here we are in Animal Kingdom, in our matching Tilly hats. Aren't we cute? And can I just tell you, I could just eat L up when I watch him walk around all day in his Tilly hat. Between the hat and the dimple, I'm milk toast. Or at least, I think that's what I am- I'm not entirely sure what milk toast is. But I think it's what i am. And it's OK- we're married, so I can feel that way.Ever wonder what trouble looks like?Hatchling in his homemade poncho for Kali River Rapids. Once you've walked around for one afternoon in the Florida humidity, soaked to the skivvies, you'll think twice about doing it again.The boys meet Pluto...And Donald. See those backpacks? I got them for five bucks a piece, ironed on a little Disney patch, and wrote their names on them in fabric marker. Then, we had the characters sign them- instead of some cheesy autograph book that wouldn't last the month (boys are hard on things). Hatchling still has all the papers from his last autograph book, and likes to look at them, but I thought this was a little more fun (read: durable). It was a problem when Goofy got rained on whilst signing- the ink won't run after it dries, but it apparently will before it has time to dry. We got him to re-sign on a different day, and we're going to get Hatchling a second patch to cover up the goof(y).I kid you not- I was close enough to hear, and Hatchling is whispering to Minnie that her dress is just beautiful. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Gigolo of the Year, 2022...We also went to Playhouse Disney Live at Hollywood Studios. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is H2's 2nd favorite thing in the world (#1 being Thomas the Tank Engine, #3 being his family). Seeing all his favorite characters in the flesh (so to speak) was more than he could take in. He sat with his little mouth hanging open the entire time, and leaving the show induced a rather astonishing fit, even for the Angry Guatemalan. He would not be soothed. He wanted Mouse (I feel sure he would have said he wanted Mouse, dammit, if only he had the expansive vocabulary to do so. I wonder- if I teach my children to swear, will they be less likely to have breakdowns, or will they just have more colorful breakdowns? Kidding!).My absolute favorite part of the week was the Mickey's Not So Scary Halloween Party. In case you don't know, this is where the Magic Kingdom closes down unless you have a special (read: extra cost) ticket that allows you to be there. Kids (and grown ups) are encouraged to dress up, there is a special parade and fireworks, and you get to trick or treat all over the park. As an added bonus, the park is pretty empty, so you can ride all the rides you want with virtually no lines. Also, it's cool, which was a rare experience during our sweltering, sweaty week.We had with us a strikingly handsome Woody...And this cute little LGM (he was a huge hit on the Buzz Lightyear ride).Cute little buggers, [...]

Hello, September!


Did you know that September is my favorite month? And September 15th, it's my favorite day of the year. This is because it's smack dab in the middle of my favorite month. I like the symmetry. Symmetry soothes me. Asymmetry makes me feel cranky and crabby and alone in a vast wilderness. Also, L proposed to me on my favorite day in my favorite month, and he didn't even know about the lovefest I had with September. I quickly told him (and I said yes), and he thanked his lucky stars. Or, so I choose to believe.I've been busy lately. Would you believe that I only downloaded (uploaded?) our pictures from Colorado yesterday? I have had something of a procrastination bug lately. Really, for the past 35 years or so, but who's counting? I'd show you some, but we took our smaller camera, and I just don't like the quality enough to post them. We will definitely be taking the Nikon to Disney World, and we leave a week from today. L, the boys, myself AND my Mom!!! Yippee skippy doo! I love the World. And I love packing. I think I have a sickness. Speaking of which, have you guys seen that PBS show Windsor Castle, A Royal Year? My favorite part is where the maids are packing for the Queen and they individually wrap all her clothes in fresh tissue paper, so it won't wrinkle. It is utterly awesome, and I'd really like to spend some time with those maids.Other things I've been doing lately include canning copious amounts of tomatoes. I made a years worth of pizza sauce, and for days the house smelled very much like an Italian restaurant. I also made tomato sauce and Italian flavored diced tomatoes. I would like to make some more diced tomatoes, but alas, my little tomato man has run out of tomatoes. Can you imagine? I also canned salsa, peach salsa, peach jam, peach butter, and chicken stock. I am a domestic goddess. In the meantime, my stove is giving up the ghost. After spending hundreds of dollars to fix the self-cleaning oven (which, by the way, wasn't remotely fixed), my warming drawer, warming zone and favorite burner have broken. So a new range is on the horizon. Obviously, I've been trying to talk L into a Lacanche, but alas, I've been unsuccessful. The other day, I was telling him about my dream if we were to stay in this house, which is to knock out the dining room and extend the kitchen. I would double the refrigerator size to one of those ginormous commercial ones, double the pantry, build a giant appliance pantry where all my toys could live (and work plugged in without necessarily having to travel to some countertop somewhere) and, naturally, have a 6 burner Lacanche or La Cornue stove with a majorly powerful hood that was (gasp) actually vented to the outside. He laughed and rolled his eyes a little, but hey, it's my dream, and I can stock it with a 25k stove if I want to. So there. That's the great thing about dreams, no?H1 started official homeschool kindergarten a few weeks ago. We've been going a little slow to start with, so that Hatchling and Mommy can both ease into things. So far, so good. We signed up for our local homeschool co-op on Thursday, where H1 will be taking some kindergarten thing, Spanish 1, Storytime Crafts (where H2 and I will be helpers), and Historical Heroes. Hatchling is very excited, and his new (to us) Buzz Lightyear backpack with attachable lunch box is the highlight of his recent life. You know, until we go to Disney World and he gets his light saber, which he's been saving for all summer. H1 has assured me that although school is not always fun, he never ever never wants to go to one of those "desk schools." I have no idea where he came up with this name, but that's what he calls them. While we do school, H2 alternates between watching Mouse (Mickey Mouse Clubhouse) and coloring and jabbering as if he is answering questions. And they both have to have a sticker at the end of school each [...]

What I did this summer...


Gracious, summer is kicking me in the rear!The family of Slush loaded up in the car a couple of weeks ago and headed to that dreaded state of Colorado to see my squirrely little sister and her family. 12 hours, my friends. You know you really and truly love your family when you willingly spend 12 hours at a time in a small car with my boys. I've decided to tell you about my vacation in the form of letters. There are no pictures to accompany them because I've been suffering from jet lag from the 1 hour time change for the last week, and I haven't managed to budge the camera from it's spot on L's desk. It may be something other than jet lag. I'm sticking with jet lag though, even though we didn't actually fly. I'm zany that way. Jet lag. Just had to get that in one more time in this paragraph...Dear Boulder,Your farmer's market had me at hello. Oh the produce! The leafy greens, the raw cheeses, the fresh breads and even the kombucha! And the smells! Oh delicious, smells! You made me weak in the knees, and I was loathe to leave you. Do you think you could give L a job at your Google office so I could be one with you, for always? Pretty please?Lovelorn back in Arkansas, SlushDear Cherry Creek Mall,I knew as I passed the valet parking on my way to the solid granite changing table that this was not the mall for me. This was only solidified by the La Cornue stove in your Williams Sonoma. L is so lucky that the smallest one is too large for my 30" stove opening. Looking at you and caressing your beautiful surface made me feel a little like I was cheating on my husband. Only he was right there watching, so I guess that made me something of a swinger? It's all too convoluted to understand. I love you, but it's just not going to work out between us. Could you please tell the puppy mill store that I will miss them too? I love all those wiggly balls of fur, and I don't care where they came from. And if I had an extra $600 after I purchased my stove, I'd take one home.Longingly, SlushDear King Soopers,Why isn't it Super, or Supers? I'm really disturbed by your spelling choices, so please enlighten me. The spelling is the only thing I found wrong with your store. Oh, the incredible offerings you offer! Kombucha, Mexican Coke by the bottle, organic everything you could imagine, plus all the stuff a regular grocery store has to offer too! My brother in law mocked me when I said you were my favorite part of the trip, but I miss you King. Can I call you King? I feel like we're old friends, separated by a cruel twist of fate. My sister doesn't appreciate you. She doesn't love you like I do. Come to Arkansas, please? I promise we'll be best friends, forever and ever. Crying about my available grocery choices,SlushDear Kansas,You are windswept and boring. There is a certain prettiness to you, and I love trying to guess what all those crops are and to pretend that the dry, scraggly ones are the GM crops, and the lush bountiful ones are organic. But frankly, that's only entertaining for a few hours at best. Do you think you could get more interesting? The windmills help, but you've still got a ways to go.Bored by you, Slush[...]

In Which I Am a (crazed) Boat Owner


Last Saturday, L had the gall, the gall!, to leave me alone with our squirrely children whilst he and a friend traipsed off to look at a boat. Can you imagine? I was whiny and irritated. My whininess and irritation were not helped when he informed me later that his friend's wife mowed the lawn while they were gone. I informed him haughtily that she probably didn't make homemade yogurt, a loaf of bread, a pizza crust and hot dog buns while he was gone, so there. Plus, it's in my marriage contract that I don't do lawns. No sirree.L called about 4 to say he was almost home and to get ready to go for a sail. Actually, he didn't say sail. He knows about boats. I do not, so I feel free to use words like 'sail' when in fact, there is no sail or sailing to be had on our boat. And also actually, only half of the boat is ours. The other half belongs to the friend of L's. Thankfully, the friend will allow us to use his half, and we will allow him to use our half, so there is one whole and hopefully floating vessel at all times. So there. Where was I? Oh yes, so we quickly ate (a healthy and homecooked meal, no less) and got all our gear together. The boat came with some life jackets, so we didn't have to run out and buy those on the way (though I have since procured special type II pfd's for my children, because after all, I am my mother's daughter). Another friend of L's came with us for our maiden voyage (friend 1 going home and getting the boat the next day), because apparently it is something of a problem that I can neither drive a boat NOR park a car with a boat trailer attached. In fact, I can barely park L's car at all, sans trailer. Hence the necessity of our friend. In future, this could be dicey. L is going to instruct me in boat driving this weekend, I believe. But really, I'd rather him just do it all. See, I think he can back the trailer in the water, jump into the boat, drive it back around the dock, tie it up, and go park his car while I wait like a princess. Isn't he lucky to be married to me? OK, maybe he's not so lucky. But I love him a lot, and he's stuck with me, so there. And I'm willing to try driving the boat, so maybe I'll be a natural. Our boat looks like this (though I think this is a newer version):It seats 8 people or so and has that nice little top (a bimini, see I know about boats!). It is very, very loud, and I wonder if I should make the kids wear ear plugs so they don't get hearing damage? My poor children, they will be geeky even on the lake. Really, they don't stand a chance. Also, I fear the children will be bounced right out the back when we hit bumps, so I've also contemplated some sort of tethering system. I know! I'm insane. Really, I can't help it!Have I ever told you guys how I feel about lakes in general, and Beaver Lake in particular? See, I think it's full of bodies. Bodies just waiting to pop up next to you or be stepped upon by your unsuspecting feet. And let me tell you, the day I step on a body is probably the day that I have to be committed for good. Did you know that Cornelius Vanderbilt committed his wife for 3 months because she didn't want to move out of the house she loved into a boring house in town so that he could keep the country house, presumably, for his serial philandering? He wasn't a very nice man, the Commodore. This is your history lesson for today. Why do I think lakes are full of bodies, you are probably wondering? Well, just think about how many people disappear at the lake, and you rarely hear about any of them being found. And also, imagine all the disease and filth being put off by these scores of rotting bodies. Funnily enough, oceans don't bother me, because I figure the tides move everything around so my chance of stepping on dead bodies is greatly lessened. And sharks. I figure the sh[...]

What do you know...


I feel that it is worth noting that the Huffington Post has an article I can actually support. It's a magical day here in Slushville...

A Big Bag O' Crazy... In Two Parts


Part One:Do you know that I have an obsession with luggage? It's true. I like to look at it, shop for it, buy it, cajole L into letting me buy more, and browse for it on the internet. I may even get emails whenever a certain company releases new models of luggage. And don't even get me started on T.J. Max and their intoxicating selection. I have a problem, okay? With unlimited funds, I would doubtless be the Imelda Marcos of luggage. Maybe it has to do with my packing dysfunctionality.For several years now, I've been jonesing for some Briggs and Riley luggage. Oh, sweet mother of all packing receptacles. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I used to drag L to the mall just so we could go the travel store and I could handle the goods. Gracious, that is some nice luggage.The boys and I went to the WalMart associates store today, which is where they sell stuff that is cosmetically lacking or a little broken or a sample from a vendor, etc, and you have to be an associate or associate's spouse to get in. L can never, ever quit working the occasional Saturday for the man. I couldn't face the loss of my discount card or the special WalMart store, as Hatchling calls it. As soon as I walked in, I was smack-dab in front of a huge display of used laptop bags for $10 each. Exciting, no? But I'm tactile in the worst way, so of course I ran my hand over the (dirty, broken and sad) bags, and then plucked one from the pile. Then I saw the words I dream about blazened on the front: Briggs and Riley. I nearly keeled over from the happiness right then and there. I handed the boys the entire jumbo package of orange Tic Tacs which I had been slowly doling out, and let them go to town.Oh sweet heaven, was it new? I thought it was. The only problem I could find was that it was missing a carrying strap, and look, there were thirty million other bags from which I could parse one of those. Can I use parse in that sense? I going to anyway, so get over it. I dilligently looked through the ginormous pile for another Briggs and Riley, but alas, there was only a sea of decrepit Dell and Samsung and Sucksonite bags. I finally settled on a strap from one (with a gelly comfort thingy for my shoulder), and then I clipped it to my new laptop bag and was on my merry way. I did ask a worker if this was OK, and she looked at me like I was insane and told me to do whatever I wanted. Apparently, I was the first person to get giddy over used laptop bags today.I brought it home, and to my delight, it actually fits my laptop (no, it actually never occured to me to wonder this at the store, not for one little second). Wonder of wonders! I did discover a wee bit of wear on the inside, so I know it was used, but it is nothing I wouldn't have done in one trip anyway. L immediatly suggested I try and sell it on ebay, to which I haughtily responded that it was the only piece of Briggs and Riley which I own, and I will not be parting with it lightly or anytime soon. So there.And no, I don't particularly need a laptop bag. I mean, I'm a stay at home mom. When we travel, the laptop goes in the computer backpack with all of our other crap. I have no need to tote Penelope around town with me. She likes it just fine sitting on the ottoman of my monkey chair. Regardless, I have a rocking laptop bag, and I'm feeling pretty happy about it. Here it is on ebags, in case you are unfamiliar with the lovelieness that is Briggs and Riley. Look at your own risk. Someday, L is going to buy me a complete set in red. He just doesn't know it yet.Part Two:I am taking the boys to a skating party this Saturday. This will be their first foray into the wonders of skating limbo, the free skate, and the skating hokey pokey. Enter the crazy. We have some lit[...]



I am thinking about/planning/procrastinating a search for H2's birth mother. In her interview with our agency, she said she would like to receive some photos. And yes, since H2 is now 2.5 years old, I have put it off long enough, and I know that I'm a terrible person. So you don't need to tell me that. And I would have done it before- but it's honestly really expensive. Like maybe more than a thousand buckaroos. Which I don't happen to have hidden in a cookie jar. And it's hard- mentally and physically.

So, I have to find a person to conduct said search.

Then I have to write a letter. Dear birth mother, thank you for our son. Sorry it sucks to be you. Love, Slush. Just kidding. Hold those flaming arrows.

Then I have to find pictures to include which: include shoes (this is a Guatemalan thing, and we live in Arkansas...); don't look dangerous, snotty or ratty; make H2 look happy and healthy (which he is, so this one at least is easy).

Then I have to have the letter translated into Spanish, send it to Guatemala with my big fat check, and wait to see what happens. Maybe they can't find her. Maybe they find her and she doesn't want to hear from us again. Maybe they find her and she starts asking for money because we are 'rich Americans.' Ha ha ha. But seriously, it's a valid concern. Or maybe she wants to have a great relationship with her son and a lifelong bond is formed. See- I can be optimistic. It's just not easy for me.

So, with these thoughts in my little head (and really, I wear and extra, extra small bike helmet), I wish for some sand in which to stick my head. I wouldn't need much.

(image) No shoes! Impending danger! This one won't do.

PSA #147


When one is going to vacuum, one should not put Rosie in the room the vacuum is kept in to mop directly beforehand. Or perhaps, one did not really intend to vacuum today, but wanted to feel one was going to vacuum, and one's subconscious went ahead and took the fall for one's lack of productivity? One may need therapy. One.

Slush... Drug Free and Proud


A couple of weeks ago, my hands and feet started tingling and going numb. Then one night as I tried to sleep, the shooting pains from my foot up my leg kept me up all night. Now for some background, I've had several reactions/ side effects from medicines in the past few years that have caused this. Once I've stopped taking the medicine, it's always gone away in a day or two. After whining to my in-house pharmacist, he advised me to stop my asthma medicine, which I did. Several days later, I was no better. So I stopped taking my allergy meds too. Warning: Big tangent: Stopping allergy medication was a big step for me. I've been on at least one daily allergy med, usually more than one, for the last 15 years or so. Ever since I maybe got mono in college and came home for Christmas break and spent the entire time piled up in my Mom's bed feeling miserable and watching TV. The test never came back positive for mono, but the doctor thought that was what it had to be. Ironically, at the time, I had never been kissed. Unless you count that ill-fated double date when I was a junior in high school (I think it was junior year), which consisted of my best friend, her boyfriend, and one of his guy friends. I think the guy's name was Lester. No wait, it was Leonard. We went to see Flatliners, which I thought was a pretty good movie at the time, probably because I've always had a thing for Kiefer Southerland. It's his voice. He should do audio books, don't you think? Anyway, about halfway through the movie, my friend and her boy toy started making out. Really, I didn't care. I was focused on Kiefer. And then in my peripheral vision, this thing started moving through the air towards my face. It was Leonard. Or Lester. Whatever. It was like a big slimy jellyfish had attached itself to my face, and good grief- we hadn't even been holding hands! I pushed him away, and after a few minutes he came back for more, which was just plain stupid on his part. So naturally, I punched him in the stomach and my friend had to get up and leave because she was laughing so hard. On the way to take me home, poor Lester/Leonard got a ticket. Probably not one of his best nights. So what I'm saying is, I have bad allergies which are worse because I maybe had mono, and I've never been the same since, and stopping my allergy medication is a really big deal to me. Have I lost you yet?After quitting all this medication, my tingling still wasn't gone. I started doing some research, one of my favorite pastimes, and discovered that many women who have the same IUD as me (Mirena) have had a lot of nasty side effects (including, you guessed it, tingling hands and feet) which their doctors insist could not possibly be caused by their IUD, but which magically went away when they insisted it be removed. And I said well crap, because I just paid to have mine replaced as my 5 years was up from the first one I got after I had Hatchling. Since I was scheduled for my yearly in a couple of days anyway, I talked to L and we decided to get the thing removed, and five days later, my tingling is probably 90% better. I just have it off and on now, and it is not as bad when it is on. And by the way, my doctor was nice about it, but told me there was no way the Mirena was causing my problems. So I'm less tingly, but now we'll probably be like the Duggar's. Just kidding. I hope. We're going to be using NFP (and yes, that is what we were using when we got pregnant with Hatchling, bahhaha). This time, I'm getting a LadyComp to take the human error out of the whole situation, cause let me tell you, I'm riddled with error. It should be here Thursday. As should my new dish[...]



I have once again waited until it was much to late to do my bible reading. Did I talk about my great bible conversion of recent days? I shall have to see. It's rather sad when one has to read their own blog to remember what one has actually written about, no? Can you become a follower of your own blog? I do not understand this follower thing. However, I am glad to have 3 whole followers. It makes me slightly higher on the chart of beings than "complete and total loser." Maybe "sad but really trying?" So what I'm saying is, I have lots to tell you (none of it is remotely important or exciting, so don't get your hopes up), but I can't, because I have to go read my bible. I skipped last night, because I am a sinner. That's probably why I had all those freaky dreams. Or maybe not. Right. Going now, talk to you soon.

Dear followers, aren't you glad I wasted your valuable time to tell you that I have lots to say and I've no intention of saying it now? If I have no followers tomorrow, I'll understand. Love, Slush

In Which I Do A Little Dance


I just found out that we were upgraded to free dining on our Disney World trip in September. Sweet mother of all dining experiences! We went during free dining two years ago and I spent the entire time coveting it (we booked our trip too late to qualify). At least there's one sin I won't be committing this time!

In other news, as we were driving home from the birthday party late Friday night, Hatchling decided to serenade us with his very own made up bible songs. They were awesome (keep in mind, we're his parents, so our view is obviously skewed...). We had him perform them for us yesterday afternoon in front of the video camera. In the last one, he has some questionable theology about Noah and his ark and the whole reason for the flood. We'll be revisiting that story soon. As for the dancing, well, I have no explanation for that...

Enjoy! Or don't!

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In Which I am Totally Random


It's awfully dark and stormy today. I'm high on paint fumes, to boot. What does to boot mean, anyway? I have no idea.

The painters were here to fix a cosmetic wall problem this morning, and I had them paint the front door too. It's one of those fake wood numbers, and I had no idea how to stain metal, so I was more than happy to pay them to do so. Money may not make you happy, but it sure can fix a lot of nagging little problems in life, eh? Of course, after they stained said door, they told me to leave it open for a couple of hours. Have you ever tried to keep two little boys in the house and out of the street when the front door was beckoning with a wide, gaping portal of escape? It's not easy, my friends. We had to spend the morning upstairs, praying that my noisy little trap (constructed of a dining room chair and some plastic toys) would alert us if anyone tried to come in and steal Penelope (my MacBook Pro). Penelope's still here, the door was closed just as the first drops of fat rain fell from those noisy clouds outside our door, and the monkeys are eating their healthy lunch.

Now, if only Werner, my German appliance guy, would get the part to fix my oven so that it will self-clean again, I'll be in business. And really I have no idea if Werner is German. But when I have imaginary conversations with him in my head, I call him Verner and ask him if he misses his homeland. What? Like you didn't already know I was a complete wackjob?

In other news, my hair could not be frizzier. We're driving to Harrison this afternoon for a birthday party, then back tonight. Oh, and it's supposed to snow 4 inches tomorrow and be in the 50's on Sunday. Welcome to Arkansas.



I'm feeling grumpy and out of sorts today. This is assuming that you classify 'today' as the last 4 or so 24-hour periods. I'm extra tired and sleepy, I have no motivation to do much of anything, I'm tired of cooking exciting,delicious and nutritious meals for my family, and I want to run and hide from my children. Oh, and L hurt my feelings yesterday and I'm totally not over it. Don't you wish you could spend some time with me today?

In other news, I can no longer make fun of people with addictions. Hello, my name is Slush and I'm addicted to coke. Coca Cola, that is. Seriously. We don't keep it in the house because I can't be left alone with it. Because of this, as I drive around town, I think of all the places I could 'swing by' on the way home and order a Coke. Fast food places, gas stations, drug stores, supermarkets. There is literally Coke on every corner, just waiting to delight my taste buds. Today as I was driving I decided that a fitting end would be for me to crash into a Coke truck (without my children present, obviously), have my moonroof broken and then have Coke from the truck pour into my car before I could escape, drowning me in that caramel colored liquid (probably preserving me, too).

There's a scary look at my brain today. And now I'm off to take Hatchling's new to him jammies out of the washer and put them into the dryer so they are ready for bedtime, collect the little one from his late nap, and make a delicious and nutritious meal for my family. Exciting, not so much.

Verily, Verily, I Say Unto You


I have used 6 entire sticks of butter in the last week at Casa Slush. Six. I'm not feeling particularly svelte at the moment. Please don't think less of me.

Guest Post


Dear Mommy's Friends,

This is Hatchling. I'm writing you to ask you to please stop eating chickens. Chickens make eggs, and I love egg in a hole. I love it a lot. And if you eat all of the chickens, there will be no more eggs. Also, chickens work really hard to make eggs for us, and that is nice. And I bet it hurts their feelings when we kill them and eat them after they do all that work. So please don't eat chickens. I am also praying to God that people will stop eating chickens, because I really love egg in a hole.

Thank you,

(egg in a hole is where you cut a hole in a piece of bread and throw it in a pan of butter, then you break an egg in the hole and cook it up good. My kids think it is the best thing I make... not sure what that says about me...)

An Ode to Chick-Fil-A


This exactly sums up my feelings about Chick-Fil-A. I beg L to take us there for lunch every Saturday. If he has said yes, and we can't go for some reason, I've been known to cry. So yeah, I have some problems, but it's not like that is news. Enjoy!

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From the same guy, A Homeschool Family. Bah ha ha!

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Wacky Dreams


I had the strangest dream the other night.

In my dream, my mother came in and stood at the foot of my bed and said "I just got an email from Nanny! She said Jesus' spirit is really under attack and she is so worried about him. She wants us to get everyone we know praying for him. She's really worried." I started to jump out of bed, because what kind of Godless heathen doesn't pray for Jesus when he needs help? But then, I realized that Nanny has been dead for almost three years. So I asked the obvious. "Ummm, Mom? Nanny emailed you? How exactly did she do that?" My Mom laughed. "Oh, if the conditions are just right, with a few clouds but not too many, and she can find one low enough to the ground with a laptop on it, she always emails me." Well okay then... not strange at all. I'm so glad we got that out of the way.

I was going to photoshop a picture of Nanny sitting on a cloud with a laptop, but apparently all of my photos of her are hard copies, and let's face it, if we waited for me to learn how to use the scanner, this story would never be told.

Because I Care About Your Enrichment


OK, this first part has nothing whatsoever to do with your enrichment. 1. This morning, I accidentally dumped about a cup of honey on my steel-cut oats and fresh raspberries. It was awesome, though I have a feeling it upped the calorie content significantly. H2 agreed, and I couldn't feed him his bites fast enough. Mmmmm... honey. That got me to thinking about the spies that went out in the Old Testament and said that the promised land was flowing with milk and honey. Do you think they saw a lot of bovines? Or goats? And bees? Or is that more metaphorical? 2. This whole spring forward thing is kicking me in the tail. I'm in a constant fog, and I can't adjust. It's a good thing I don't have a real job. I might have gotten fired this week.Now, for your promised enrichment! Aren't you excited? It's because I want you all to be well-rounded, and it might come in handy should you ever make it to final Jeopardy. I've been reading Vienna 1814 by David King this week, and I've marked some interesting facts to share with you all, as I'm guessing you're probably not going to run right out and check it out of the library (it's pretty good, if a little dry in a couple of spots. My big gripe is the way the notes are done, all at the end without footnotes, so you can't look up something you find interesting right when you read it. I'm guess that as a successful author, David King doesn't care what I think, but I hate them all the same). Did you know that during my stint as a history major in college, my favorite of all my majors, I think, I actually took two entire courses covering European history from 1789-1814. It's true. I'm a colossal geek, with a hundred or so hours of electives to prove it. So, without further ado, my notes on Vienna 1814 and the Congress of Vienna:"Politics is the art of making war without killing anyone." Prince De Ligne I love this quoteCatharine the Great had a "tester," that is a woman who would try out the guardsmen selected for the empress's bedroom. Her name was Anna Protassoff, and she was in town during the congress. Seriously, a tester? How important are you if you can't take the time to figure that out yourself?Talleyrand, while being dressed and coiffed by 3 valets, would suck in water through his nose and blow it out his mouth into a silver basin, "much the way an elephant uses his trunk." And he often did this with visitors looking on. Ummmm... gross....The supplies for giving a grand ball at the congress would include no less than: 300 hams, 200 partridges, 200 pigeons, 150 pheasants, 60 hares, 48 boeuf a la mode, 40 rabbits, 20 large white young turkeys, 12 medium-sized wild boar, an assortment of roasted baked and cold meats and other delicacies, including 600 pickled and salted tongues (yuck). Also, a supply of pies and pastries, almond, pistachio, chocolate, Seville orange and French puff-pastry gateaux. Between 2500-3000 liters of olla soup, 2500 biscuits, 1000 almond filled pastries, 60 sponge cakes, and other cakes and sweets. Almond milk, lemonade, chocolate, tea and many kinds of wine. Can you imagine? I can't even cook for 7 other people without having a complete breakdown.The night before the battle of Waterloo, Napolean stayed in a farmhouse named "Le Caillou." If he had only known about that bald Canadian kid, he would have seen that fortune no longer favored him.[...]

Cooking with Slush


I've spent the better part of the last three days in the kitchen, and it has the sticky scars and crumb coated floors to prove it.We hosted our bible study group at our house last night. As hostess, it is your job to fix dinner for however many show up. Other ladies make this look effortless. Somehow, when it is my turn, I manage to make it into a much bigger production. I'm not sure why. Probably because I'm a spastic freak. Oh yeah, I forgot about that... Last time it was at our house, I made a full Indian dinner for the group. I like to think of myself as an ambassador for Indian food and introduce new people to it all the time. You know, kind of like the time we took L's sister and parents to an Indian restaurant in Tulsa and they tried one bite and then sat and watched us while we stuffed our faces. That was awesome. What I'm trying to say is, I usually pick things that require at least a fair amount of preparation. We have, besides L and myself, 6 other couples in our group. That's a lot of dinnerin! We knew several would be gone this time, and ended up only having 7 people, which is kind of nice because you get to really talk to everyone instead of just exchanging superficial pleasentries. It's also nice becuase everyone fit around our table, which makes it more fun. Otherwise we usually split into a men's table and a women's table.The evening's menu consisted of my special hamburgers with homemade whole wheat buns, these jalapeno things (don't worry, I wore my gloves), two kinds of dip with chips, and these brownies which I found on Bakerella's site, complete with ganache (a word I only learned a week ago on Celebrity Apprentice- who says reality TV has no value?). I did most of the work on Saturday, making the burgers so they could marinate in all their goodness in fridge, making the buns and brownies, and scooping all the insides out of those jalapenos. I wore my smashing apron and threw in a batch of homemade seasoned bread crumbs just for the heck of it. It was all yum, yum. yummy. I am pretty sure I gained 3.7 pounds yesterday, but we're not going to talk about that or the fact that I was noticeably absent from the gym this morning...The OTHER thing that has been keeping me in the kitchen is my new VitaMix. Oh sweet mother of all blending machines, have you ever seen one of these babies? I had no idea they existed until about a week ago. L loves juice. Especially that Naked Mango juice. He would have a bottle every day if I let him. I've never been a fan of juice. It's all the goodness of fruit without the stuff that you actually need, like fiber and most of the vitamins and minerals. I don't let the kids have juice at home, and I've always refused to own a juicer for the same reason. You had no idea I was so mean, did you? The other night, L asked me (after finishing off the two pack of mango juice we had picked up at Sam's) to look for a juicer that kept the good stuff. He had a good point in that he doesn't get nearly enough fruits or vegetables in his diet. After consulting the ladies on the Sonlight board (homeschoolers who seriously know everything, it's amazing), I found VitaMix. It's quite possibly the most expensive blender in the world. Possibly in other worlds, too. However, it's strong enough to chop up an avocado pit (why you would want to, I don't know, but by golly you could), and its blades spin at a whopping 249 mi[...]