Category Archives for "Sunday regurgitation"
My weekly “best of” post
My weekly “best of” post
It’s Saturday night as I’m writing this. Hopefully on Sunday morning, as you’re actually reading this, I will still be coherent. No promises though, as Helena is having a friend spend the night.
Zoe’s all “been there, done that, can’t wait to do it again” with sleepovers, having done them for years now. Helena has spent the night at friends’ houses before, but this is her first sleepover at home, not counting the one a couple of years ago with both of her cousins. At that one, all three girls ran around our house for hours and hours and hours and ultimately refused to go to sleep until 2:00 a.m., only to wake up at 4:00 a.m., bright eyed and bushy tailed like little baby chipmunks on crack. At one point, Nate threatened to ship them all to Tanzania if they didn’t quit it already. Zoe offered to drive them to the airport on her bike.
Needless to say, Helena has been so excited, bouncing off the walls all day, asking me every twenty minutes exactly how much time remained before her friend arrived and life would be worth living again. I didn’t mind the first 15 times or so, but when she started to ask that same question in thirty second intervals, I threatened to duct tape the clock to her face. She preferred to drag a chair and sit in front of it. Smart girl.
I’ll put Helena and her friend to bed around 10:30 p.m., and they’ll probably laugh and giggle and get up for blanket straightening and drinks and potty breaks approximately 482 times and then hopefully fall asleep around midnight. They can wake up Sunday morning whenever they want, but they’re under strict orders not to leave Helena’s bedroom until at least 7:00 a.m., at which time pancakes and donuts will be served with a smile and the one-way tickets to Tanzania will be put away for safe keeping. After I yank them from Nate’s death grip.
Right now, however, I’m going to sneak into the kitchen to quietly gobble up all but two Wegman’s Valentine’s Day cookies and then I’m going to call the girls down to show them the two Valentine’s Day cookies we bought especially for them because what they don’t know, won’t hurt them.
I have to say, I absolutely LOVE the sound of their laughter echoing through our house right now. Gives me warm fuzzies.
Since I mentioned Helena’s cousins above, I’ll leave you with a post I did about the communion gift we gave one of them last year. It’s still one of my favorite crafty moments to date: Burst of Creativity
Off to scarf down a cookie. Or ten.
For those of you wondering why Sunday is throwing up, fear not. Sunday Regurgitation occurs every Sunday, when I link to a prior post of mine, because I am trapped under something heavy and am unable to write anything original or riveting. Hopefully someone will notice I’m missing, remove whatever is suffocating me and I’ll be back to normal by tomorrow. But just in case this doesn’t happen, think of me fondly.
It’s February 8, 2009 and that means that my mom turned 78 years old three days ago. She’s kind of embarrassed because apparently, she forgot how old she was and told everyone she was turning 76.
Allow me to set the record straight: My mom is 78, not 76.
SEVENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD.
Two years shy of walking around as an octogenarian.
Whew. All cleared up!
You’re welcome, Mom.
In honor of my 78 YEAR OLD, ALMOST AN OCTOGENARIAN, MOM, I’ll link you to the post I wrote about her HERE.
** And just in case you’re interested: There are a couple of hours remaining for my giveaway so if you want a totally cool piece of custom line art by Kentucky Red Head Who Won’t Wear Icky Undies, you better skedaddle over HERE and enter! **
Happy Sunday, everyone!
If I recall correctly, there’s some kind of big football game happening today and I am fully prepared to become a widow from approximately 6:00 pm until God knows when.
I intend to do something more fun than watching football, like plunging a toilet or scraping the scum off our shower doors.
However, I will instruct Nate to TiVo the game so that later, I can fast forward through all the football crap and watch the commercials.
We got TiVo in the first place so as not to watch any commercials at all.
The irony is not lost on me. In fact, it’s found all over me. I’m suffocating under it.
I won’t be linking any prior football related posts for this edition of Sunday Regurgitation, for the simple reason that I haven’t written any because I dislike football much like I dislike ingrown hairs and hernias.
But I can’t just leave my blog empty because an empty blog is a sad blog and I’m all about the happy, people!
C’mon everyone, get happy!
This will make you happy … one of my favorite Superbowl commercials from the past.
I think one of the reason I love this commercial so much is that it reminds me of the machine shop office in which I worked as a secretary, twenty some years ago. My boss doled out positive reinforcement like this on a daily basis.
If Terry Tate were white, fat, female, wearing orthopedic shoes and sporting a mustache, he’d be Joan, otherwise known as Grotesque Resentful Bag Lady Who Smelled Like Stink and Ate Small Animals When No One Was Looking.