Miscellany Monday (A Day at the Aquarium)

As previously stated (and the fact that Monday in a cubicle is less than thrilling), I am going to overload you with pictures from the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Was this my favorite part of the trip? I'm pretty darn sure. I have a weakness for all things sea-related, and a beautiful, interactive aquarium is somewhere I could lose myself for days. I feel like I'm going to have to start taking more pictures more often because these past few (and probably next few) posts have been picture heavy . . . and I'm so not someone who just takes pics of daily existence. Look! A pile of dirty dishes! A cat has once again taken over a pile of laundry! Such thrilling subjects! But we'll see what happens. Anywho . . . here are some of the not-already-featured highlights of the aquarium :] If you want to see others, just click the "California" label, and they should pop up. Enjoy!




   

The outdoor section of the aquarium, which included a waterfall/tidepool connected to the wave tunnel indoors, and, of course, a stunning view of the bay (with the summer fo rolling in, LOVED that fog)

I'm a sucker for pictures of staircases . . . I don't know why . . . I think it's the bold lines . . .

The thirty-foot-tall Kelp Forest Aquarium filled with fish of all shapes and sizes and small sharks





These rescued birds were in an open display--there was no glass seperating the aquarium visitors from the birds, but they kept their distance. I love shore birds.

Some pidgeons at the outdoor tide pool . . .

Upside-down jellies. The 70s-themed Jelly Fish exhibit was our favorite. I LOVE jellies.

Abby the Otter takes a nap in a bowl of ice . . . Cute enough to induce squeals of joy? Maybe definitely.



Miscellany Monday

The most shocking thing in California?
It wasn’t the price of gas (not nearly as bad as I had thought) or the weather (heaven) or my FIL's need to rise before the break of dawn every morning just because (which was shocking), but the windows. Why?

THEY DIDN’T HAVE SCREENS.

We went to a friend of the in-laws for a cookout, and I marveled at how clean their windows were. I mean, just sparkling you-could-run-into-them-because-they’re-so-doggone-clear clean windows.  The next day it hit me: there were no screens. There were no bug-carcass-encasing screens. None.

We stayed in a hotel with NO AIR CONDITIONING, we were COLD, and we slept with a fireplace on and the window cracked. WITH NO SCREENS.

When I told my mom this, she exclaimed, incredulously, “Nuh-huh! Sarah, there HAD to be screens!”
Nope, not a one.  

And no bugs.  I think I saw one harmless fly. ONE. That’s it. No spiders, no roaches, and not a single mosquito.
Oh, gosh and golly, this may be heaven.

Yesterday, I went to my folks’ to deliver souvenirs. 
As Mom and my middle sister, Davie, were leaving for gymnastics (Davie’s . . . not my mom’s . . . I probably just clarified that without any real need), my five-year-old baby sister, Ellie, crept up beside me and whispered, “Um, Sawah, can we pway?”
“Sure, honey. What do you want to play?”
“Um . . . can we pway Wii? I want to pway Wego Star Wars.”

And so we did.

We quickly discovered that Ellie and I play at about the same skill level . . .which probably means really good things for her and really bad things for me.
Considering that my character fell to its doom every time I had to cross a bridge, I don't see any real future career as a gamer . . . or, at least, as a good one.

I can’t help it. He falls, screams, breaks into a billion pieces, and then, magically reappears . . . only to have the situation repeated as I attempt two more steps.
And we’re not even a third of the way across the tiny bridge.

That’s skill, peeps.

And, yes, after one session of “Just Dance 3” I totally purchased it (which I may regreat when the hubs decides to watch and start mocking me . . . Glory, I won't hear the end of it).
So much fun  . . . such a dork (seriously . . . I can't bloody dance to save my life) . . . and such a workout  (hence the purchase . . . I love a workout disguised as totally not a workout).

source

The highlight: playing with my sixteen-year-old sister-Cat-and little Ellie, losing miserably, and Ellie exclaiming, “Sawah! I BEAT YOU!!! I’VE NEVER BEAT A BIG KID BEFOW!!! YAY!!!”
Yeah, she totally slaughtered me.
Three times.

Again, I gots skillz.

See? I have so much skill, I used improper grammar and spelled it with a “z.”
My coolness meter is growing.

P.S. As a testimony to said coolness meter growth, I apparently actually WON something.
I cannot begin to express my giddiness.
Because, seriously, we're talking a kid who's never won any sort of raffle and whose schools always lost their homecoming games (at least when I was in attendence). I kind of seem to be on the losing side . . . so much in fact, that when I burst out, "OH MY GOSH!!! CHRIS, I WON!!!"
He replied dryly, "Were you the only person who entered?"
"NO!"
"Is it a scam?"
"NOO!!!"
See? Even my hubs doubts my luck-of-the-draw.
But, NO MORE!!!
Check it out! :]
Yeah, I'm a tiny bit excited XD

Miscellany Monday

 Booty

Friday, the hubs walked into my cubicle wearing the grin of a Viking conquerer bearing loot.
"I have corn!" He announces proudly, holding the plastic bag stuffed with goodness.
Ah, the benefits of working for an agricultural company: free sweet corn.

And it was DARN GOOD CORN, thank you very much.

Saturday, I heard those words no one ever wants to hear in a salon . . .

Miscellany Monday

WOW. I haven't posted one of these in ages. But, here it goes

Hippity-Hoppity

Last night, the hubs and I return from a birthday dinner for his grandmother to discover an adorable, pudgy, wart-covered visitor quite literally at our door.
I call him "Toad Friend." He was playing sentry to keep the bugs out.
At least, that's what I tell myself.

Miscellany Monday

Phew

Last night, I realized how utterly exhausted I am. How did I realize this? I fell asleep on the hub's shoulder while he was playing video games with his brother-in-law at his new house. I was so asleep, in fact, that I didn't wake up when he removed me, remained unconscious as a shelf was being banged into the wall, and stayed in a hiberatory state until he managed to, somehow, wake a very disoriented me up.
That was before 9PM.

See, I really haven't had a day off since I started my summer job. Maybe one. Just one. But it's been work, meetings, small groups, moving, packing, painting, cleaning, cooking, errands, visiting non stop. For someone who's used to having at least ONE sit down day of the week where I don't leave my home, this is bittersweet--sweet in that I feel like I actually have a life, but bitter because I don't get to recharge.
We have run out of laundry so many times this month, it's not even funny. The reason? I'm hardly home long enough to eat, sleep, and finish a load.

And the hubs, who has so stepped up to the plate helping with housework, is utterly baffled by our completely normal if not primitive washing machine.
True story.

The Cottage

I am either boring you to death with these updates or building your expectations so high that the eventual revelation of this perfectly normal little rental home will be the letdown of the summer . . . (sort of but not really like the climax of the last HP book oh so many summers ago . . . but our house isn't quite that important ;])
BUT I am THRILLED with all of the paint colors, the addition of new office furniture to my study, and the new rug we bought to add some warmth to the tile floors in the great room.

And the acquisition of pest control materials.
This is an all-out war, peeps. Me against them. Two Legs versus More Than Two Legs. I have size and chemical warfare on my side, they have massive numbers and infiltration skills on theirs. I'd say we're about even. So long as I keep the kitchen spotless and make sure the hubs puts all of his midnight snacks away, I should be able to avoid a insectiod seige.
Here's hoping.

To Hang or Not to Hang

Like I said in a previous entry, Chris revealed last week that he has the head of a deer carcass he'd like to mount over the mantle.
Yeah, no.
As much as I'm all about his display of manhood and shooting skills, I'd really rather the first thing you see walking in my door not be a furry head. I'm hoping the message my living room sends you is "Please, have a seat and a cup of tea" and not "WE KILL THINGS!!!!"

See my problem?

At first announcement, the hubs politely agreed when I said, "Please no, man cave only", but then my brother came in. Someone--I'm afraid it might have been me--let it slip that there was a tiny debate about where the dead head would reside.
Did you know that men in groups of two or more are as opinionately dangerous as women in a group of the same size? And that when presenting an opinion to a lone woman, she is surely defeated before even speaking?
I just may have a carcass over my fireplace.

To help soothe the wound, Chris said he usually had the head wear his afro wig and would be willing to pair the two again.
I'm not sure whether this should excite or frighten me.

Miscellany Monday

Cleanliness

To those of you who work full time and manage to cook every night AND keep a spotless home, I salute you.
Because, frankly, this forty-hour a week job AND being responsible for all meals and household cleanliness is killing me.
Oh, and trying to find time to work out in between all of this.
And be social.
Oh yeah, and sleep.

WOW.

I’m getting better at it. Thanks to the visitation of an otaku (see below entry) friend of Chris’s, I’ve been cleaning more this weekend than I have in longer than I care to admit. But the apartment is now spotless with every article of clothing put away and every service scrubbed and dusted. Huzzah.

Now if I could just keep it that way . . . That’s the real trick, isn’t it?

The Hubs

New appreciation for that man.
I realized this weekend I’ve never questioned his manhood, not even once. No, he’s not Rocky Balboa, but he’s not a wimp. Yes, he games and he’s a bit of a hermit, but I know I can count on him in a pinch, he’s a hard worker, lives in the present, and has a passion for justice and God’s grace. He wooed me, and golly, he wooed me well. Keeps wooing me. He’ll tackle the great outdoors with his quiet excitement and molds those guitar strings into musical artwork. He’s not perfect by any means, but he’s a man secure in his masculinity. Thank goodness.

Furballs

I woke up in the middle of the night to something grabbing at my fingers. Thank the good Lord it wasn't flesh-eating zombies. No, it was Navi's furry gray face and hungry black paws.
Turns out Chris left the door open, and the cats invaded.
Pipkin slept between our legs and acted like a ten-pound heating pad and purring like a locomotive.
Ninja Navi hid behind the headboard and tried to capture my hair and appendages.
No, I didn’t sleep well.
Maybe we're being prepped for kids? Nothing can prepare us for that . . . right?

The Cottage

Our landlords (aka Chris’s parents) have given us permission to start painting the home’s exterior immediately. Yes, even before the current renters move out. I'm trying to figure out how I feel about this, if it's rude or not, but Chris's mom promises the renters won't mind.

Chris’s Mom: “So have you picked colors?”
Me: “Well—”
Current Renter: “Tell me that you're not REALLY going to repaint that house. Good grief. Seriously?”
Chris (to Mom): “Well, we don’t have to.”
Chris’s Mom: “Well, I just want to make it what you all want.”
Me: “We really don’t have to, but I had thought you had wanted to repaint it. That you wanted to try new colors?” (it's currently an adobe brown with dark chocolate brown trim)
Mom: “Oh, I mean, it’s kind of boring so I’m ok with repainting, but really it’s whatever you all want.”

So now I’m trying to come up with colors that go with dark brown trim and brown shingles.
Ideas? Go.

Miscellany Monday

Good golly, it’s the first time that I’ve done one of these in a while. All righty, let’s get started then, shall we?

A Whole New World

As I am discovering the glory of Mystery Science Theater 3000 reborn in RiffTrax, I get a call from the hubs.
“OHMIGODCHRISIHAVEFOUNDTHEMOSTAMAZINGTHINGEVER!!!ITSTHEGUYSFROMMST3000AND ITSSOOOOOFUNNY!!!”
Yes, I said it just like that, with all the urgency of a fangirl coming face-to-face with the actor she idolizes, the reason she draws breath and all her friends have suddenly disappeared. Yes, it was so bad, Chris had to ask me to repeat it about three times. By the third I was moderately intelligible.

Then he says, so cool and suave, “Hey, you wanted Netflix, didn’t you?”
O.O!!!
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSS!!!!”

Let me lay it out for you: our TV picks up nothing. Nope, not even static. It’s a perfectly functional TV, but we just had no interest in cable and, quite frankly, have no interest in antennas just so I can watch the depressing evening news and antique road shows. No thanks. So I’ve been watching shows on quote possibly illegal streaming sites—it’s rather a bit of a miracle that my laptop isn’t bubbling over with every form of worm, virus, and Trojan known to the human race.
Netflix . . . it was safe and legal access to all forms of entertainment I’d been hoping for.

“Cool,” he says, “because if we sign up for a free Netflix trial I get 1000 shiny.”
O.O?!
“Shiny as in World of Warcraft money or as in like real money???”
“No, it’s for this game Drew got me into. I need to buy better supplies, but I don’t have enough shiny.”
“Christopher Steven, this is a new all-time low, even for you.”
“Oh come on, we both get what we want. I saw that, and I was like Oooo! Sarah’s been asking for Netflix, I need shiny, and here we are. Excellent.” Whenever Chris says “Excellent” it sounds like an evil genius. Just so you know.

So now I have Netflix. And Chris has Shiny, whatever the crap that is.

New Favorites

Yeah, pretty much been watching these lots. With Netflix instant stream and all that. How did my entertainment quota survive without it???

If you’re into sci-fi, Firefly is a gem—developed, rounded characters, humor, lovely world-building, just great writing all the way around. I can’t believe I didn’t find it sooner. Oh wait, I DO know why! I didn’t have cable or Netflix. DUH.

Oh, and Sherlock? GENIUS.

Chris is a big Sherlock Holmes fan—read all the books, huge Doyle fan—and he has given it a stamp of Holmes-worthy approval. Plus, Sherlock is played by Benedict Cumberbatch, which is like the coolest name EVER . . . oh, and the actor’s really fantastic.

And those two guys in the pic there? Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman (Dr. Watson) are Smaug and Bilbo in the 2013 Hobbit film. I’m ecstatic. No, really, fangirl nuts over here. Mr. Freeman is the PERFECT Bilbo Baggins. This LOTR nut is very, very pleased. Epic.

Oh, and the show is fantastic. Wonderfully acted and written. I can’t find a single flaw.

Seriously.

Watch it.

Laser Tag

For Christmas, my mom was pretty awesome and got my brother, father, and hubs free tickets to unlimited laser tag. They were all pretty excited.

We FINALLY decided to use them for Father’s Day. Yeah, there totally wasn’t a six month delay or anything.

Father’s Day rolls around, and, after a lovely lunch with the family, Dad regretfully informs us that he has a headache and can’t go. So Mom tells me I should go.

If you’ve seen me try to walk, you know that this sort of thing is not my forte. At all. But I go and my fifteen-year-old sister tags along.

So we played three rounds. It was pretty fun, and I did surprisingly well second round due to my dubbed “zombie tactic”—If I ran into a player, I pretty much locked him in a face-to-face duel until he got sick of me and the repeated on-off-on-off of our vests and ran off. Chris said it was like trying to shoot an undead that wouldn’t die—it just kept coming, coming, coming, until finally you hack off its head. Hey, it was the only way I bloody hit ANYONE. The only other thing I hit was a target that deducted 1001 points from our team because it was, well, our target—like kicking the soccer ball into your team’s goal. Yeah, I’m smooth like that.

By the last round, I couldn’t figure out a setting on my gun so I just wandered around aimlessly.

Until the only other kid playing, a twelve-year-old laser tag enthusiast, kept popping out of corners and attempting a battle cry.

If you’ve been around twelve-year-old boys, you understand that their vocal chords do not naturally lend themselves to the deep, resonating, fear-inducing battle cry.

Especially when you hear it every 30 seconds.

I was desperately searching for something—ANYTHING—that could be used as a gag.

At one point, Chris and Matt—my brother—suddenly came face to face with each other, prepared for a shoot-off, then heard that squawking yell on the ground below them. They promptly turned around and began shooting at the same target: Banshee Boy. Unfortunately, he had the same color vest as I did . . . and it turned out they shot me A LOT. Not that I cared by the end of it—I stunk, I knew it, and quite frankly, I knew my standing still and not caring was the key to Chris’s high score and finally beating Banshee Boy’s score.

That was the most humiliating—the hubs losing to someone less than half his age. And Chris is a bloody ninja, which is really funny when the laser-tag vest looks too small and he’s sneaking around like he really is James Bond. My sister and I spotted him darting behind corners and LAUGHED. Oh golly. Nothing like a grown man and laser tag. It is a sight to see, folks.

Zingers and Miscellany Mondays

Do you remember the scene in the delightful “You’ve Got Mail” where Kathleen Kelly confessed to her email-penpal how badly she wishes she had the gift of zingers? (If you don’t remember, hit up Netflix, Red Box, or your local library and watch the movie. Now. It’s fabulous). Oh, Kathleen, I feel ya, hun.

When someone says something incredible rude, negative, or mocking, I come up with great zingers. No, really peeps, I feel so horribly witty when they flit across my mind. The problem? I usually come up with them like the next day. Darn. And then they seem either like chunks of gold or super lame even then. I’m just not a zinger.

Example:

Chris and I have been searching for either a small guest bed or, mostly, a sleeper couch/futon. We searched and we searched but could find one that we neither liked nor could afford, so we gave up and decided that any overnight guest would be forced onto the couch or a hotel room. Not at all what I wanted but, what could I do? If the bank account says no, I’ve kinda got to agree. As it turned out, God provided us with something as silly as a futon: a friend of Chris’s gave us one for free because he was moving and had no more need of it. SCORE!!! I was so excited and felt so blessed!

The futon and I had our formal introduction last night in the presence of a friend.

I squealed and immediately hopped/plopped myself into it, bubbling over with joy. “Christopher!” I called to the hubs, gaming in the next room, “I approve!”

“Hurraaaay!”

My friend walked by, perched across the room, and said, “No one’s ever going to want to stay with you guys if they have to sleep on that. Futon’s are sooooo uncomfortable. I slept on one once. Hated it. And besides, no one would want to stay in Chris's gameroom and put up with his gaming all night. Ugh.”
I don’t know if this should have been offensive, but it was after suffering over a month of negativity whenever anything involving our future move was mentioned, and over three years of criticizing my husband, and this recent decision for us to get a dog (you have NO idea). It was time for a zinger. Just to prove I have a bloody backbone. Guess what I did?

a. said nothing
b. smacked her
c. stammered my affections for futons and that really, he wouldn't game all night and "I can find ways to distract Chris."
d. Laughed, "Oh you're so funny!"
e. “Well you won’t ever have to sleep on it. I only have pleasant people visit.”
f. Complained about how much I, too, hate futons, and, she's right, my husband's hobbies are annoying.

If you guessed E . . . that’s what I wish had happened. Of course, I didn’t think about that one up until my lunch break this afternoon. No it's not particularly smashing, but . . . it's better than what I really did.

So, I pretty much went with C and tried to ignore it. No, some futon’s aren’t always the most comfy (I thought our wasn’t half bad), but it was God’s gift and no one should be bashing it in that context. And maybe she's right: maybe none of my out of town friends, in need of a bed for the a night, would want to stay with us. Maybe everyone hates futons and the thought of futons. I guess I’m just been really sensitive and defensive recently when she says things like that. Blech.

How do you deal with zingers?

Miscellany Monday

To Do 

After tonight, Lord willing, my after-school to-do list will be complete and my cleaning-out-the-apartment-to-get-ready-to-move and planning-middle-school-English-lesson plan lists can begin. Suddenly, that sounds like a lot of work. Hmm . . .

Moving On or Why Apartments Get Old Fast

There is nothing particularly nasty about our apartment. It's been a lovely "just married" nest. But it's time to go.

• Having no room for bookshelves, my boxed up books are screaming to be released. And my closet is wailing to have all the book boxes removed. So, you know, I can actually walk to the back of it and really hang my clothes up so they aren't just leaning against box mountains. You may say this is a sign of too many books, and in response I say "There's no such thing as too many books." All that to say, I'm looking forward to bookshelves. And more space. Period. 
• I also look forward to living without the paranoia that the neighbors hear everything. Including my early morning conversations with the cats. I've stopped singing all together because I don't want to irritate the neighbors. I can't jump around and dance because I might disturb the neighbors. I'm afraid to vacuum because it may be too early or too late for the neighbors. And those are the LEAST of my audio worries. Yikes. No one's complained, that we know of, but still . . . walls are only so thick . . . 
• Not having to walk across a parking lot and up stairs with tons of groceries. 
• No pet limitation. Now, before you think that I'm going crazy cat woman, no; our apartment complex has a two furball limitation. Meaning, with our two cats, a pup is just not an option here. There, it will be. And we are so excited. Oh please, Lord, let it be a good dog and not a furry case of chaos. Please please PLEEEEEEEEAAAAAASE.
• Having a yard with flowers and a private dirt road for walking/running will be splendid. Here, if I run, it's in a tiny gym that may or may not be open or the single treadmill or elliptical occupied. Plant-wise? We have a potted bamboo plant that also serves as a cat chew toy. We wish it didn't.
  But my First Grade classroom parents just sent me home with this:

Favorite Flower. And WOW. LOVE!!!

The interesting thing with moving to "the cottage" is that the current renter can't find anything nice to say about it (the bugs, the water, the tile, the appliances . . . the list goes on). But the renter before her can't find anything bad to say about it--she says it was the most wonderful place ever and she and her family absolutely adored it. I think it has everything to do with attitude and very little with the 29-year-old cottage in the woods. At least that's what I'm hoping.

Where Flowers Bloom . . . 

Speaking of gardening and plants, we had a cookout at my parents, so I decided to take some snaps of Mum's flowers. She has butterfly gardens in the back and front yards, and I just love them. This is the time of year when everything is blooming and fabulous. No color editing on these because, really, God's artistic efforts are flawless.
 

 

Turtle Tale

Later this afternoon, the boys visiting and my baby sisters found a Gopher Tortoise. You can imagine the great excitement that ensued. That poor turtle.

No, we didn't hurt the turtle. It didn't even seem too upset.
Eager to escape, yes, but I don't think it was having a heart attack.
At least, I hope it wasn't.

Still how fun is this? And how CUTE is that tortoise?

Run little turtle! Run!
P.S. That little tail? Love. So awkwardly adorable

Can you find the turtle?

Another fun creature. Chris caught the shot of this skink and was pretty proud :]

Miscellany Monday

May I just say that I am ashamed that this is my only post in a week? Good grief and golly. I have my excuses--last couple weeks of school, organizing a summer job, chores, chores, and chores . . . berry picking. And writers block. Did I mention that? Seriously, something would happen, and I would think to myself, "Self, we need to blog about this." Did we? No. Words wouldn't come, pictures wouldn't load, boo boo and boo.
But, I'm back, and if I can find a spare moment between last minute grading, I'll be here.

Picasa

I have an issue with memory space.
I have tons of it, but I'm always afraid I'm running out. So I delete things on a regular basis. Lord willing, there won't be a repeat of the FIRST time I deleted things in Picasa and ended up having to re-photo every inch of my blog.

Blueberries, Blueberries

So, Chris's parents are partners in a new blueberry farming business. It's pretty awesome. Sunday, they had a fundraiser for my school (where Chris's mother and sister both work in the office), and Chris, myself, and a couple of friends from our small group went picking. Absolutely gorgeous weather, perfect day, perfect berries. Yeah, pretty much perfect.

 

There were snails on the berries. SNAILS. Seriously? And isn't that berry bloody huge?!

Home is Where . . .

Still on a decorating idea rampage. If you have any tips ANY AT ALL, please send them my way. I especially need ideas on how to best decorate/utilize small spaces, as the rental house is rather petite. One of the delightful families at my school (I'll be teaching their daughter in 7th grade next year! Yes!) rented the same house for a couple of months and have dubbed it "the cottage." So much more poetic. ;] We're looking at a move-in date around end of July or early August. Lord willing. Oh please, please, PLEASE Lord willing.

One Man's Trash is Another Man's . . . 

TREASURE!!! Seriously. The hubs works at a used bookstore that buys and sells, you guessed it, lightly used books, CDs, and DVDs. He brought these home for me this weekend. Ecstatic? Just a little.

How could anyone have considered parting with these?!?! I'd fight tooth and nail to keep my LOTR trilogy and The Hobbit. No joke. I'll whoop your behind if you ever try stealing them. ;]

School's Out Forever!

Not really, one more week folks. One more week. Next Tuesday, the last day of class, is a party day. First graders are all dressing up like their favorite characters from story books. I'm thinking The Giving Tree myself . . . hmmm . . . we'll see how that turns out . . .

Fur Children

Just because they're so darn cute, and I don't have any "real" kids, yet. ;]

This is Navi's favorite sleeping position. It makes my heart melt. :]

New favorite lounge spot. Forget that I'm trying to UNLOAD the dishes when she decides to park there

Empty boxes are the best XD

And, sometime soon, hopefully, there will be a pup added to the photo collection. :]
There was almost a third cat--Chris and I were in Petsmart and he noticed there were cats up for adoption. Including a sweet, tiny, quiet, black female. I've always wanted a black cat.  Cruel, cruel man, making me walk away from that adorable creature. She had better find a home before I run out of cat food and need another Petsmart run or else our family of four will be a family of five. Oh, then six with the pup. Oh dear, dear me. The madness must end . . . and cute animals need to stop being thrown in my path.

Miscellany Monday

Ma Famille

Homemade Sashimi at our place

So here's the fam over Easter Sunday. Meant to post and just never got to it. Good looking bunch, right? ;]  No, these are not my kids--they're my sibs: three sisters (L->R: Ellie - 5,  Cat Jo -15, and Davie - 8) and my bro, Matt.
Matt actually just skedaddled away to Osaka about a week ago. He's part of a team that ministers in Japan as conversation partners and then recruits college students to come study English in the States. It's pretty awesome. He gets to visit all of our previous home-stay students (aka his "Japanese Brothers" Jungo, Takuro, and Shimon, and our first student Izumii :] ). He absolutely loves it. If you want to follow this summer's month-long adventure, you can read it at his blog "Lost Boy."


My sisters all love hanging out at our apartment, and we love having them. Mostly, I think they come for the DVDs and video games, but I'm going to give my ego a pat on the back and say it's because I'm a delightful hostess and a fab cook. Hmm . . . Yeah, I'll keep saying that.

Mother's Day was wonderful because, really, let's face it, moms are awesome (especially mine ;] ), and they deserve oodles of celebratory days over the year, but instead, they just get one. So we make it special. :] Thanks Moms, for all that you do!

Pup

Things are very much in the works for bringing one of these into the fam.

Photo Credit to California Carolina Dogs

It's a domesticated American Dingo.
Yes, I am insane. And even more insane? I'm really, really excited.
We're saving up money, researching the breed, training techniques, and breeders, but we think we may have settled on a breeder. For all my digging for something incredibly negative about this dog (there's always SOMETHING), I can't find anything. I just can't.Nothing, nadda, zilch.  I've interviewed a couple of owners, and they have nothing and I mean NOTHING bad to say. These dogs shed minimally, are clean, don't smell, aim to please, and are excellent protectors. You have to use unique training, though, because they're "pack-minded." We'll see if all of this plays out.

Car

The air conditioning is dead.
So dead.
Nothing is coming out of my vents, not hot air, not cold air, not anything.
I left the apartment to run errands, returned to my car, started car, realized five minutes in I was warm, started messing with buttons, and it was gone.
So sad.
So hot.
So my car is heading over to its doctor Wednesday morning for a check up. I'm hoping they tell me it's no big deal. My checkbook is demanding it's not a big deal. Oi vey. Just as things start going well, the car always has to ruin it.
Party Pooper.

Age is Irrelevent

 Mother's Day  was also Chris's great-grandmother's 89th birthday.
And you wouldn't think her a day over 70. Seriously. She's spry, spunky, and in awesome health. I wish I could absorb those genes by osmosis. Oh well--at least my kids will have them . . . hopefully.
So for her birthday, Chris's aunts decided to get her a cute pair of pjs with leopard print pants. Oh, and one of these to match.

I am not even kidding.
Yes, it was a gag.
But, golly, seeing an 89 year-old woman holding one of these was never EVER something I expected to see.
Seriously, peeps. The mental images. Wow.