A story for Tyler-

Do you know who Danny Glover is? I do. And if I ever met him in person I would say, "Hi Danny Glover, I'm such a big fan!", which would be a lie because as I sit here I can only think of one movie he's in and I've never seen it. The play turned-movie 'A Raisin in the Sun'. Fortunately it is not imperative to know Danny Glover in order to appreciate this story. Any references to the actor will be purely for the sake of tension-breaking randomness which will not sway the plot one way or the other. OK then, let's begin...

Trigger Brimstone, that's his name, heated his soup on the stove-top as he believed that microwaves were just another portal of the devil. He added carrots, potatoes and salt. "Soup-turned-stew is pretty cool" he thought as he blew the steam away for a sip. He often ate well as he believed that on any day, at any time, he may be called on a mighty mission, journey, or adventure. (That would be a bit redundant but each of those require completely different ensembles.) Little did he know (or alot 'cause he did know) Trigger was about to get a certain call. And that call did come. "Brimstone," said the very mysterious voice. "Your quest, should you choose to accept it, is to retrieve the Puffin's Pearl from the evil Dizzy Gillespie." (Not to be confused with the ever-famous Dizzy Gillespie.) "If you fail the world will surely cease to exist." "DASH IT ALL!" Trigger cried, "What do I wear on a QUEST??!" Fortunately the mysterious caller faxed over a map, suggestions for attire, and the farside joke of the day. (If you've ever been on a quest you understand the medicinal importance of laughter.)

Trigger loaded his essentials into his gray '97 civic with a red passenger door, then drove off in his gray '97 civic with a red passenger door. Before leaving town he was sure to top off the gas tank of his gray '97 civic with a red passenger door, and purchase two butterfingers and one box of Runts. (So much for eating well...) Now it was the open road.

Perhaps now is a good time to fill you, the reader, in on some important history. Danny Glover was born in a small town. Figby, Connecticutt. And if you were to ask the night-shift manager at the food mart if he had ever seen Mr Glover, he might say yes. (I don't know, worth a try.) But it was in this town that the evil Dizzy, had settled. He kept a low profile while plotting the taking of the Puffin's Pearl and delighted the town with kick-your-heals-up blue grass banjo jingles at the Saturday night barn dances. (Evil plotting costs money and blue-grass banjo tunes were, and still are, in demand in Figby Connecticutt.) It was after the pearl was stolen that the night-shift manager at the food mart had overheard Dizzy complain of a twisted ankle while buying Advil. "Stupid Puffin oughta get rid of those mole hills. Not only are they ugly, but someone could really get hurt while dashing across his lawn at 2 in the morning..." Maybe Dizzy thought no one could hear his muttering. Or maybe it was his cry for help. Either way, the leak was out and Trigger was on his way.

The drive was long and lonely. Trigger decided to stop for the night. He checked into a lowly motel under the name 'Brimbrick' and after safely locking himself into his room he immediately soaked his quest clothes in the bathroom sink, as his only other set of clothes were more 'Tahitian-cruise' rather than 'dangerous quest'.

The plan for the next day was easy. Confront the evil Dizzy Gillespie, retrieve the pearl, and save the world. Trigger obviously had trouble getting to sleep. Can you blame him? When the sun rose he was not feeling up for a day of questing. Yet he still donned his damp clothes and marched from his motel room. "I'll save the world, or my name's not Trigger Brimstone!" This was unfortunate since the motel worker, who had checked him in, overheard him and now knew his true identity.

Now we may never know how Dizzy learned of Trigger's approach. But this slip-of-the-tongue is one of the possibilities.

It was evening by the time Trigger drove into Figby. Craving a blue-raspberry slushie he pulled into the small food mart. The store was empty except for a man at the register. As Trigger paid for his slushie the man eyed him curiously. "You're not from around here, eh?"

"No, but I heard Danny Glover is."

"Who?"

"Danny Glover"

"Never heard of him." (Well, so much for that.)

"So, what brings you here?" asked the man behind the counter.

"I'm looking for a man. A man so evil, I bet he owns a dozen microwaves..."

This was odd for the store manager to hear. He used his microwave everyday and never thought this put him on any 'evil' rating scale. But still he wanted to help this out-of-towner who seemed important as his clothes were very 'questy'.

"Does this evil man have a name?"

"Gillespie. Dizzy Gillespie."

"The entertainer?"

"No. The bad guy."

"Oh. ...OH!! Someone said you'd be coming... I know who you want. He'll be playing at the town barn dance in less than an hour."

Trigger tipped his hat and carried his slushie out the door. As he wandered down the dusty road he wondered how he would get the pearl once he had captured Dizzy. He knew the evil pearl-snatcher wouldn't give it up easy. What was his weakness? This quest-question was on his mind as he came to a road sign with the words 'Ye Olde Barn' and an arrow pointing right. He turned down the lane and looked for a garbage can for his empty slushie cup. A little saving the planet before , well ...saving the planet.

It looked like the entire town was in attendance. Music and lights were streaming through the slats of the barn and Trigger hid near the entrance. It wasn't long before a cheer went through the room. A lanky, limping man had just stepped up to the microphone with a banjo in tow. It had to be the notorious Dizzy. Trigger decided it best to follow Dizzy after the dance and not make a scene in front of the townsfolk. This meant he could enjoy a little small-town shindigging. And what a shindig it was. Though evil, Trigger had to admit that Dizzy played a heavenly tune. Trigger danced and yelped. He stomped and clapped. Soon the entire room was a blur of laughs and twirls. Trigger could barely see straight when suddenly he realized that Dizzy had slipped out of the barn. But to his horror he realized the doors had been barred from the outside and when he peered through the slats he saw Dizzy, with banjo in hand laughing outside the big door. "Thought you could catch me? HAHAHA!!! You underestimated my evilness, BrimSTONE!"

"DRAT" Trigger thought. "How did he know I was coming?"

By then the rest of the dance-goers were realizing what was happening. There were screams and fainting. The men tried to pry the doors open, even bust through the sides but it seemed hopeless. Dizzy danced outside the doors in gleeful triumph. "HAHAHA!!! Soon I'll be in Tahiti with the pearl, and you can watch me fly away!" Just then a helicopter began to descend on to the field across from the barn. "NO DIZZY! You don't know the powers of the pearl!!!" (This was true as soon Tahiti would cease to even exist.) Trigger was at a loss. Had he failed? Was this it??!

Suddenly there was a rumble. Everyone watched the far corner of the barn as a gray '97 civic with a red passenger door plowed through right onto the now empty stage. "MY CAR!!", cried Trigger. The night-shift store manager stepped out from behind the wheel. "Sorry 'bout that. Say, why is the passenger door red?"

Trigger ran past the car, out the hole and towards Dizzy who was now nearing his escape. "Stop DIZZY!" The evil Dizzy looked back over his shoulder, "Have a nice life folks!". But as he looked back he stumbled right over a fresh mole hill. He and his banjo hit the ground. By now Trigger was very close. He raced and was about to pounce when Dizzy grabbed a hold of the leg of the helicopter. It raised him up right out of Trigger's reach and off into the night. And suddenly it was over. Dizzy was gone. The Puffin's pearl was gone. And Trigger had failed.

By then the store manager had caught up with Trigger. He silently stood by Trigger in quiet reverence. "Well," Trigger said. "Now that the world is about to end we might as well enjoy the rest of the dance. ...Do you know how to play the banjo?"

The store manager had already picked up the instrument that Dizzy had dropped in his getaway.

"A bit." he said. "But I'll be darned if I gotta play one with a big rock inside it."

The pearl.

It was days later that Trigger found himself still with questions unanswered like: Who is the Puffin? Isn't a puffin, a bird? Why does the Puffin get the pearl? How is the pearl so powerful? How much will it cost to fix his passenger door? Or does he splurge and repaint the entire car red? Is it time for a new car?

But those questions would have to wait as Trigger left for his next quest. To capture the evil Dizzy in Tahiti. And he knew just what he was going to wear...

I want to go to China,

after watching 'Karate Kid'. Those stone steps going up the mountainside... Did you see them? Cool, huh. What an exhilarating workout that would be! I'll start saving my drastically-dropping-in-value American pennies. It'll even be worth being violated by the TSA.

Brenda wants to go also

...to become a warrior.


And Suzie wants cake.


I also want to watch the original 'Karate Kid'. I remember swooning over Daniel-san.

...I'll have some cake too, please.

Saturday, in spite of...

Thank you for the nice responses from yesterday's grumbling. As I went about a surprisingly good Saturday, I kept thinking of what a drama queen I am.

I managed a long morning nap and then went on to a fun and successful photo shoot.

(more on photoblog)

(wait, I just read over that and said 'moron' photoblog. haha!)

Later, I enjoyed TWO therapeutic runs, (one alone, one with friends) and one BIG bowl of ice-cream.

I'm sure I would be saying the same thing to a friend. "If you need to vent, VENT!" But when I know a sweet family who just found out, out of the blue, that their 1-year old won't live to see next Christmas, I appreciate the attitude check that I need. So what's a little lost sleep?

Happy Sunday everybody.

Don't pity me, 'cause my hair looks AWESOME

I'm not sure if I'll be posting this post. So far I've kept myself away from the blog when I'm angry or upset and I'm not sure I want to break that trend now. But here I sit at 6:26 in the morning and believe me, I'd rather be sleeping.

The other day, while coloring my hair I rolled my eyes over being 31 and needing to cover gray hairs. (OK, replace 'needing' with 'wanting'.) I shrugged and thought, "Well, we all age at different paces". But about an hour ago I decided to blame Garret. My beautiful beautiful Garret. He's giggling next to me, the cutie-pie. He's been giggling and running and tapping and bouncing and rocking non-stop for the last 12 hours. Not such an unusual night for us. Regular sleep is such an obscure idea now. What's it like??

So today is shot. I've got a photo shoot that any of my energy will have to be put towards, so chores will just have to wait. Which is a shame since Garret spent last evening spreading bits of toilet paper in every corner of the house. (I've got to figure out a way to lock up the t.p. and still have it accessible to all the potty-trained people in the house...)

When I decided to come over to the computer I was holding back the tears of self-pity. I'm just so dang tired. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of having so many things I'd like to be doing but no energy to do them.

OK- Before this gets overwhelmingly depressing let's look at something uplifting...

And, wouldn't you know, while typing this Garret has given up the fight and is now quiet in his room. I'd run to my bed but I just heard Brenda begin to stir. I think I'll just stretch out on the couch and get a little rest.

Sorry for the rant. Life is good. Really, it's good. Don't worry be happy. Turn that frown upside-down. Count your many blessings. ...And put on a happy face! ('Specially when there's left-over pie in the fridge.) (Speaking of Thanksgiving, I plan on posting about it. Just waiting for some pictures...)

And I think I'll post this since it has a cute picture and I'm feeling better.

How long was I asleep??

I was confused this morning when I awoke and, apparently, it was December 25th. "Merry Christmas!" Brenda exclaimed. "Huh?" I was lead to the corner of the living room between the fireplace and the piano and couldn't help but ask, "What's that, Brenda?"

"Christmas tree"
"And what's all this?"

"Presents!!"
"Oh cool! Should we wake up Daddy and Garret too?"

"YES! ...Daddy! Garret! It's Christmas!"

We gathered around the "tree" and watched Brenda open each "present" with an 'OOO' or 'AAH'.

I got a D battery.

Score!

Thrice Thrilled

Thrill #1: The FIRST FIRE of the season-

OOOOhhhh... Somebody bring me some marshmallows please.

Brenda made sure Suzie didn't get too close to the fire ...or to Brenda.

Thrill #2: Bedroom makeover progress (and a little Suzie-spice)-

I'm afraid the room may never be done-done, thanks to my odd tastes and almost freakish frugality.

Thrill #3: Someone might actually bring me marshmallows...

THANK YOU

Just the fact that this is my 100th post doesn't mean it has to be GRAND, right? The pressure for something memorable has me fidgeting all over my little gray folding chair.

The frustrating thing is that I know it doesn't really matter. I'd be pretty arrogant to think so. But I'm proud of this blog! I like spewing my misspelled, grammatically-erred, gobbly-gook out to the world and still being accepted by ...well, you.

Who knew?

So I guess this is a 'THANK YOU', for your support as I document my little life, and shamelessly exploit my family.

Thanks, guys.

Seasonal conversion 2010

For the last month+ I've been just rolling my eyes at the Christmas displays all over town. I didn't want to be bothered with Christmas and was annoyed at it being shoved in my face. (I don't think I'm the only one who has felt this way.)

Well, I popped into Lowes today with Suzie on my hip. While waiting for a gallon of paint we strolled through the isles of lights, plastic trees, dancing life-size santas and other fantastically-tacky decorations on display.

Suzie was enraptured.

The normally squacky (I declare it a word) girl was almost silent. (Just an occasional 'Oooh' or 'Woooooooah') It was when she started to boogy to a jingle, coming from a little merry-go-round, that I felt that tingle of excitement.

OK Christmas, I'm ready.

(Last December)


...just need to survive enjoy Thanksgiving.

ALSO- The next post will be my 100th post.
Any ideas on how I make it
SPECTACULAR?


(I really am excited for Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving, and DANGEROUS amounts of pie.)

a few of my favorite things-

(inspired by Oprah and Julie Andrews)

(But I won't be giving anything away, or singing.)

(Sorry. And, you're welcome.)

My favorite Tim Curry role-

Dr. Poole in Oscar

Favorite current 'Garretism'-

wide-eyed smiling and giggling with every Reece's peanut butter cup commercial

Favorite vintage wallpaper, found online-


Favorite item at Winco-

egg nog

Favorite bands/artists to go running with-

Roisin Murphy
The Ting Tings
Annie Lenox
The Rolling Stones
Flo Rida
Michael Jackson
Kings of Leon

Favorite deoderant-

ban

Favorite SNL character-

Sally O'Malley

Favorite character in 'Word World'-

Duck


Favorite Suzie feature-

How she runs with her legs stick-straight, and her little arms just pumping so hard...

Favorite cracker-

Cheez its (It's juvenile, I know, but this post is all about honesty...)

Favorite Norman Rockwell painting-


Favorite bubble-bath scent-

anything BUT watermelon

Favorite Brenda quote from today-

(low voice)
"Little pig, little pig, let me in... "

(high voice)
"I'm not a pig, I'm a bear!"

2nd favorite Brenda saying today-

Threatening Suzie with 'NO VIDEO GAMES' when Suzie tried to draw over her "chalkboard masterpiece"

Favorite ploy for attention-

blogging

A little less talk...

From her backpack-

falling for cubism

I was chatting with my brother, Tyler, the other day and we started talking about college classes that we loved or hated.
I thought of my art history class.

(SO many years ago...)

(...11, roughly.)

Much of the class was BLAH boring, but I remember the day that my teacher displayed this painting-

Picasso's 'First Steps' (1943)

My immediate thought was, 'GAG. How ugly is that?'

Surprisingly, by the time I left the classroom that day, I was moved almost to tears.

Picasso remained in France during the Nazi occupation. His paintings from that time are grim, grey, and gloomy. But in 'First Steps' he expressed his love for his country and gratitude for the assistance of other countries (us included) to get France back on its feet. To depict this, with a child exerting his independence with the help from his doting mother, is (I think) beautiful.

Even now, I'm feeling mushy.

Ever since then, when I see an odd Picasso painting that doesn't seem to justify his fame I think of this and I kinda get it. Good job Pablo.

And don't skip that class you hate, Tyler. Your momma raised you better... haha

deep theology

Hi Brenda. Is it Sunday today?

(confused look)

What do we do on Sunday?

eat popsicles

What about church?

popsicle please

Do you want to learn about Jesus today?

Yes. ...No. Look Mommy! There's a Mario under the chair!! Heeeere killy killy killy...

-------------------------------

Hi Suzie! Happy Sunday!

'Sat? (pointing)

Uh, that's the kitty.

Cat! Haha!

------------------------------

Good morning Garret

(sniff)

(chomp on bacon)

(walk away)

wake up to this!

I just bought this quilt (& shams) online. Oh mama. I LOVE it. Yeah, yeah, I know it's much more flowery than I normally lean. I can't explain, but I LOVE IT.

My bedroom, since being married, has always just been a hodgepodge of, well, stuff. Enough! So now I can start developing the room around this bedding. hmmmm- What color on the walls? What type of headboard? Any inspiring ideas?

Oh this is going to be fun...

politics and smooches

I did my duty by voting ...because I should, and for the right to complain. (How pathetic is the person who whines about government but won't take three minutes to fill out a ballot?)

So here's my well-earned venting-

To all the conservative candidates that got my vote,

You have my support, but not much of my respect. The last few weeks of campaign ads were disgusting. I voted not for you, but for my ideals. I hope that my ballot (along with many others) sends a message of morality and responsibility, but I can't help feeling like much of this is (as Neil A Maxwell stated) '..just straightening deck chairs on the Titanic'. God be with you and please try to live up to the standards that you claim to hold.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

And now for something so smooshy-happy you'll wanna give kisses...
.

.

There. All better. :)