Thursday, April 26, 2012

Duck Ponds

This week was a rather relaxing one in the Strother household. Due to TAKS/STAAR (or is it two R's?) testing, my work with Needville choirs was at a minimum and Brandon's baseball duties officially ended at 5:30 instead of 7:00-more-like-7:30-ish.

It threw me off-guard, not having much to do. Brandon even asked me yesterday, "Have you guys been out of the house since Monday?", which would have normally been a completely absurd question, with a more appropriate one being "Have you guys been out of the house since 6:00 PM this evening?"

I cooked two meals this week, three if you count the frozen pizza that I did unwrap and put in the oven (see previous posts as to why this counts as "cooking"). Brandon and I watched a movie without one of us (me) falling asleep. I was able to scrapbook our trip to the Houston Zoo, a page about Christmas of cousins and Bluebonnet 18-month photos. I updated Brooklyn's baby book with all her dentist's information and photo collages galore, and put all the other prints into a photo album. We'll never be at a loss for baby pictures of our girl. What can I say? Digital just doesn't do it for me- I want the real thing! We had the time to deep clean most of the rooms in the apartment, which prompted the following conversation:

Me: Are you sure you want a house?
Brandon: Yep.
Me: Really? It's a lot harder to clean a house...
Brandon: But it's a lot easier to dirty an apartment. One toy gets put in the middle of the floor and we no longer have a living room.

Point taken.

But probably the most fun thing I did this week was take Brooklyn to the lake behind the apartment complex and feed the ducks. And turtles. And crows. But mostly the ducks. And note to other moms: ducks are not so impressed with animal crackers. It's like they could sense the irony...

It was nice to have a place to feed ducks so close by. I was actually able to walk and push Brooklyn in her stroller over there. It reminded me of the good ole days in Plano when my sister, Lindsay,  and I would ride our bikes to a pond to feed ducks. But while mine and Brooklyn's path was simply "go down the road and follow the trail", our Plano bike ride was full of obstacles and mysterious landmarks.

From the eyes of an 8-year-old, it was on the sidewalk atop the Hedgcoxe Creek (which I named, of course), across the red bridge and past the aptly named Red Bridge Park (aptly named by me, again), alongside the sandlot (I wished we had our own sandlot. It was just a large grassy area, but I envisioned a baseball field instead every time I passed by), and through the shaded neighborhood (always seemed to be lots of shade and trees on that path). You get to the Dangerously Skinny Sidewalk and hope that there isn't someone coming your way. Then you're there- at the apartment complex at Alma with the big pond and ducks. This is the most exciting and intimidating part of the ride, because I was never allowed to cross Alma on a bike. Way too much traffic.

Fast forward to after the ducks have been fed, and I'm blanking on exactly what came next, but at some point there was Sidewinder Sidewalk, which is where you need to be prepared to say hello to anywhere from 6-10 people walking dogs or jogging going the opposite direction. Then there was the "No Fishing" Pond. I always felt like you could film a frightening death scene for a big horror film there. This is either preceded or followed by the Wicked Witch Forest... this is where I can remember Lindsay and I singing the Wicked Witch theme from Wizard of Oz while speeding through on our bikes. After all, what's a bike ride without a witchy cackle and reference to classic 1939 movie? Next you roll into Hendrick Creek (which is actually the same creek, but this part of it was by Hendrick, not Hedgcoxe). Swiftly ride down the creek's hill and pedal your heart out to get it back up to the top. You finally begin to see light again, so you think you're out of the woods, but no. Giant Hill. I don't think I ever even tried to ride up it. I would hop off the bike and push it. So not worth the muscle toning. But I hardly ever went the opposite direction... starting at Giant Hill and taking it to the duck pond, coming back over the red bridge at the end. Way too scary to try and ride that thing down. I envisioned my own gruesome death many-a-time.

If anyone from Plano is reading this, I'd like to think you can follow my directions precisely and find my circular trail. Others of you may just be shaking your head at how odd my childhood brain worked. Or how my adulthood brain still works. All I'm wondering is if Brooklyn inherited my imagination, and what kind of path she imagined taking to the duck pond. If she's anything like me, it'll be a lot more interesting than "go down the road and follow the trail".

Monday, April 23, 2012

Responsibility to my Readers

This past weekend we went to College Station for the 40 year reunion of the Aggies for Christ. The AFC had a profound influence on my life in ways of servitude, leadership, and fellowship. I met some of my best friends there, went on my favorite trips there, and learned to live a life for God there. It was so great seeing Aggies from classes in the 70's, 80's, 90's, 00's and even the current youngens who are unsure about the move from the surrogate bench in Rudder back to its original placement in the MSC flagroom. I had so much fun that I forgot to take any pictures except these:



Brooklyn really enjoyed having Mimi pull her around in the gardening wagon in the great grandparent's backyard.

I was surprised by a few things this weekend: one, that I missed it SO much. College Station still feels like home, and walking around campus felt more natural and comforting than I ever realized it would. I appreciated my classes, but spent so much of my time trying to be the Anti-Aggie because I didn't fit in with the Eli Young Band crowd and it always felt silly to say "howdy". I wish I had said howdy more. I wish I could go back, but I know it wouldn't be the same. Big Rob isn't there to eat chocolate muffins with me for lunch. Dr. Brooks passed away, so I couldn't take another Shakespeare class. We'd be the old creepy tagalongs for AFC weekend trips and spring break weeklongs. And what is college without Chelsea Conway?

The other thing that really surprised me was how many people read my blog... like, whoa. For every three people who said they were happy to see me again, I got one who said, "I love reading your blog. You crack me up"

It took me QUITE off-guard, but I guess it's called the "world-wide web" for a reason. Suddenly it dawned on me that I have a readership, which means I have a responsibility to them to write. Moreover, I have a responsibility to write something that isn't garbage. I've made a list of some of the things I'm going to work hard on for you, my faithful blog followers.

1)I will watch my freaking language. For real, I'm going to stop saying a bunch of crap that pisses people off. What the heck is this blog for anyway?

2)I will not post gross stories or factoids, like the problems I have when I wake up in the morning and blow my nose and there's the nastiest mixture of bloody boogers in it. No one wants to read disgusting phrases like "bloody boogers", so I won't waste your time with it.

3)I will not bore you with inane useless tidbits of information about my life like I have to leave the room when someone files their nails and I have an obsession with not having body odor, so much that I cake on the deodorant, perfume and even baby powder if necessary to make sure I am the sweetest smelling person in the room. Or at least not the stinkiest. And I'm incredibly self-conscious when someone asks, "What's that smell?" and immediately claim "IT'S NOT ME!". But that stuff isn't interesting, so I won't write about it.

4)I will not brag about how wonderful my daughter is, even though she is wonderful. And awesome. And smart. And cool. And silly. And incredible. But that gets old. So I won't brag about how she slept 14 hours last night. And I won't brag about how she has learned to sign "thank you" and "please" or how she's going to be bilingual and thank me for it later in life. Doesn't it get boring when we brag on our children? See, so I won't do it. I won't tell you about how she can get herself undressed and tells me when she's stinky or about how she wants to sit on the potty to poop. She's 18 months old, FYI. But I won't brag.

5)I will not talk about my daughter's potty habits. Although, I just did.

I'll keep thinking, because I'm sure there are plenty of other topics you pass on when you start reading blogs. In the interest of technological journalism, and with a responsibility to my readers, you have my very sarcastic word that I will not discuss any of the aforementioned subjects.

Have a nice day.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Can't Be Happier

I know I've been lax on my blog writing lately, and I apologize. I also know that when I write it hasn't been as funny as it used to be. Again, sorry. But even now when I have the chance to write and could be humorous, I don't want to. I want to talk about how awesome my life is.

I just got back from Needville a few minutes ago. They've got early release and a day off tomorrow, so today was a day filled with speakers, cheerleading performances, Battle Royale and a choir concert. I am always so happy to be back at that high school. I love that place and the teachers and kids in it. And our Soundsation kids rocked the schools face off. Those who disagree just aren't cool enough to recognize the talent, hard work and dedication it takes to sing, dance, and be epically amazing at the same time. I cannot express how proud of them I am. I never in a million years would have thought that I'd be choreographing dance routines for a high school choir, but it is one of the most fun and rewarding things I've ever done in my life! They sang so well, their dance moves were basically spot on, they were happy and had fun with it... and I just love them all. I'm so glad that I get to keep doing this next year. I'll miss the seniors- Ryan, Christi, Stephanie, Mason and Travis- a TON!

I'm also SO thankful that I have a child who is patient with me and loves singing and dancing as much as I do. Brooklyn comes with me when I assist at the junior high. She comes with me to the middle school for choreography. She comes to JV and dances along. She cries every time she sees her babysitter, Julia, after school because she knows she won't be hanging out with me and the choir. Makes poor Julia feel terrible. I just can't believe how quiet and well behaved she is throughout all of this work that I do. She sits in her stroller, eats her snacks, watches and listens to what's going on, and never makes a peep. She loves it, which is one more reason why I can keep loving it too!

My husband is awesome. Since a month before we started dating when we watched our first movie together (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind in July of 2005), he has kept track of every single movie we've watched together. Every. single. one. He writes down what we watched, where and with who, and on what date. He stores all of this information, along with the list of Best Picture winners we've seen/we own, Best Directors, IMDB Top 250 and AFI Top 100, in "Tracey's Big Movie Guide". It's epic. We just passed 950 movies watched together and he's decided to let our Facebook friends decide through a bracket that we put together what our 1,000th movie will be. We figure on getting there around September or October, so the bracket will be a summer project. Another summer project that we're doing is making a Cold War board game. His AP US History students just did it and we've decided to make our own game as well: Cold War Life. Gonna be sweet.

I just got an email from Landon, our first family leader. FF is what we call our church small groups, and ours is the best. We call ourselves "The Fun One" :). We had an Iron Chef competition last weekend where we split up into teams, judges called in our menu and we had 5 1/2 hours to prepare an appetizer with cheese, tapas as an entree, a float to drink and something with chocolate for dessert. I hadn't had that much fun in months. Everything we do as a group is amazing, and Landon and Aja have planned our next few events, including a water party, a beach day and a murder mystery dinner. Even with all our toddlers and infants hanging around, being with these people makes me feel like I'm in college again.

Speaking of college, the AFC 40 year reunion is this weekend. I cannot WAIT to see my old Ag friends!! The newly renovated MSC (Memorial Student Center) is officially open, there's a baseball game, Muster and hopefully an on-campus devo in store for us. I LOVE College Station. I'm giddy just thinking about it all.

The first weekend in May I'll be flying back to Plano again to see my brother be cool. Seriously. He spends most, if not all, of his time being cool. Example: prom song. I don't get to see everything, but I try to coordinate my Dallas-area trips with events he has going on, especially since he's graduating high school in June. So, he's got the Sound Invention (jazz choir) show on Saturday and a Junior/Senior banquet for church the following Monday. PLUS Alyson and Eric are graduating college that same Saturday, so then they'll hightail it back to Dallas so we can hang out too!

I know I'm bragging, because not everyone has it this good, and maybe some of you are reading this saying man, I wish my life was running that smoothly. I wish I could be that happy.

Here's the thing: it does no good boasting about all of this stuff if I don't give credit back to where I know it comes from. If I didn't have a solid relationship with God, if I didn't pray and read my Bible and turn around and praise Him for all I have, I wouldn't have anything. I'd be a grouch, a grumpy, complaining, whining little brat. But I'm not. I'm happy. I don't even have to work at it anymore, it just comes naturally. Life is a lot easier when you just let stuff go.

It's funny- I used to boast in random things, like my ability to put my fist in my mouth, burp entire sentences, or sing all the words to REM's "It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)"  In fact, I heard that song again on the radio the other day and realized I had forgotten over half of it. I felt terrible. I was so disappointed! Then I realized what a big deal I was making out of nothing, and I started to laugh. WHO CARES if you know all the words to a song or not? Why boast in something that matters to no one? Boast in Jesus.

There are a lot of cynics out there. Lots of Atheists, Agnostics, and others who don't know what to call themselves. Those folks will call me crazy, but the Christians reading this will get it. I'm happy because I'm loved by God and I know it. I have a good life because God has given it to me. And moreover, if my life stopped being good tomorrow, I could still be happy knowing that God hasn't left me, He's just changing some things. He gives and takes away, and He has given graciously to me lately. I can't be happier.

:)

Friday, April 13, 2012

"Mommy's Need to Wear Shirts"

Brooklyn is beginning to recognize anatomy, specifically that Mommy has something that seems of the highest interest hiding in her shirt.

About two weeks ago I was changing her diaper and getting her pajamas on. For some reason, she jumped at me and pulled my t-shirt towards her. My gut reaction was to say "Um, no. Mommy's need to wear shirts". This was apparently the perfect response, because she laughed in such a genuinely cracked up way that it took me off-guard. She had never laughed at ANYTHING like this before. Not even Mr. Bean, and she and I both think he is a pretty funny guy. And so, frequently since that night, she'll remember the hilarity of the situation and try to undress me, laughing hysterically the entire time.

It didn't take me long to realize that I cannot change clothes in front of her anymore... she knows what a bra is and where to wear it. I have no photo evidence... I was too much in shock and awe to get proof. 18 months old and she already understands a very fundamental difference between girl and woman. Or, as she thinks of it, baby and mommy.

I'm sure we were all the same way. I know a certain adorable boy I babysat for years and years who will not be named *cough James Newberry cough* had a similar encounter. When he was about 2 years old and I would dance with him, rock him, or hold him, he very often looked at my face, then my chest, then back to my face and honestly asked, "Whatchu got in der?" I would tell him, red-faced, "Nothing", and he would emphatically shake his head yes. Yes, James, I do have something in there, but nothing that you will ever see. And you wouldn't appreciate them at your age anyway.

It's all just more reminders that I'm in the world of toddlers and no longer the world of babies. It's a very entertaining world, and I sense a lot of embarrassment, wonder, intrigue and humor in my near future because of it.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

The Death of Jesus

 My granny sends me emails all the time. I love it. She's 81 years old, she's figuring out Facebook, and she still works diligently for the First Baptist Church in Vernon, Alabama. And its from her secretary email of FBC that I get many, many forwards. Cute ones with pictures and peaceful quotes, and ones like this that I couldn't just read and leave alone. The thing is though, I don't forward emails because I don't have everyone's email addresses. I can reach 700+ people through Facebook, so here goes. Please read the reason we celebrate Easter. Egg hunts and the bunny are fun and all, but we rejoice because the Jesus the Christ willingly took on all sin for us so we wouldn't have to. Because of Him we are saved. It's worth remembering what exactly it took for Him to go through in order for us to have the blessings that we have.

THE (SCIENTIFIC) DEATH OF JESUS
        At the age of 33,
        Jesus was condemned to the death.
        At the time Crucifixion was the "worst" death.  Only the worst
        Criminals were condemned to be crucified. Yet it was
        Even more dreadful for Jesus, unlike
        Other criminals condemned to death by
        Crucifixion Jesus was to be nailed to the
        Cross by His hands and feet.
        Each nail
        Was 6 to 8 inches long.
        The nails
        Were driven into His wrist.  Not
        Into His palms as  is commonly
        Portrayed. There's a tendon in the  wrist that
        Extends to  the  shoulder. The Roman guards knew
        That when the nails were being  hammered into  the
        Wrist that tendon would tear  and
        Break, forcing  Jesus to use His  back
        Muscles to support himself so that  He could
        Breath.
        Both of His  feet
        Were nailed together. Thus  He was forced to
        Support Himself on the  single nail that
        Impaled His feet to the cross.  Jesus could
        Not  support  himself with His legs because of the pain
        So He was forced to  alternate  between arching His
        Back then using his legs just to  continue to
        Breath.  Imagine the struggle, the pain, the
        Suffering, the courage.
        Jesus endured  this
        Reality  for over 3 hours.
        Yes,
        Over 3 hours! Can you imagine this  kind of
        Suffering? A  few minutes before He died,
        Jesus stopped bleeding. He was  simply pouring  water
        From his wounds.
        From common images
        We see wounds to His hands and  feet and even  the spear wound
        To His side... But do we realize  His wounds
        Were  actually  made in his body. A hammer
        Driving large nails through the  wrist, the feet  overlapped
        And an even large nail hammered  through the arches, then  a
        Roman guard piercing His side with  a spear. But
        Before  the nails and the  spear Jesus was whipped and
        Beaten. The whipping was so  severe that it tore  the
        Flesh from His body. The beating  so horrific that His
        Face was torn  and his beard  ripped from His face. The
        Crown of thorns cut deeply into  His  scalp. Most men
        Would not have survived this  torture.
        "
        He had no more blood
        To  bleed out, only  water poured from His
        Wounds.
        The human adult body contains  about 3.5  liters
        (just less than a gallon) of  blood.
        Jesus poured all 3.5
        Liters of his blood; He had  three nails  hammered into His
        Members; a crown of thorns on His  head and, beyond
        That,  a Roman soldier who  stabbed a spear into His
        Chest..
        All these without
        Mentioning the humiliation He  suffered after carrying His own
        Cross for almost 2 kilometers,  while the  crowd spat in his
        Face and threw stones (the cross  was almost 30 kg of  weight,
        Only for its higher part, where  His hands  were
        Nailed)..
        Jesus had
        To endure this experience, to open  the
        Gates of  Heaven,
        So that you  can have free
        Access  to  God.
        So that your sins
        Could be "washed" away. All of  them, with no  exception!
        Don't ignore this  situation.
        JESUS
        CHRIST DIED FOR  YOU!

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Top 5 Reasons to Learn Sign Language

In recent years ASL, American Sign Language, has gained more popularity and credibility among the schools of the United States, and for good reason. It is not just gestures, pointing or spelling. It can convey complex, abstract ideas and not just simple pictures or concrete items. It is a language all its own, complete with grammar, sentence structure, idioms, slang, tense and any other facet of what makes a "language" you can come up with. And moreover, it's gorgeous. When signed by a graceful, fluent ASL native, it rivals the beauty of even the most sexy Italian.

Those are the academic reasons to learn sign language. Well, maybe that last part about Italian being a sexy language isn't, but who's going to argue, right? I've got a Top 5 reasons list that are more personal, perhaps more practical, hitting closer to home.

5. Everyone should learn at least one foreign language.

This is a plug for foreign languages in general. Do you realize that many children in Europe know two languages before they even begin school? And by the time they graduate it's commonplace to be fluent in three or four? And Americans complain about how hard it is to learn Spanish... does anyone realize how difficult it is to learn English? Look at an American child and see! Brandon, Brooklyn and I went to Chili's last week. We were all eating our tortilla chips and Brandon and I were dipping them into the salsa and ranch dressing (if you haven't tried Chili's chips and ranch, you MUST. Now. Seriously, come back and read this later- go eat). Brooklyn decided she wanted to try too, so she dipped her chip into the salsa. I said, "Baby, you won't like that. It's hot". So what does she do? She blows on it.

Hot. Are we talking about a fever, the weather, amount of spice, or temperature of something like a food item? She's even blown on the oven when I've told her not to touch it because it's hot. "Hot" is actually a fairly difficult concept, and in relation to the rest of our language, that one is a breeze!

The world is becoming more global. We are becoming more and more the same in economics, politics and lifestyle. America may be paving the way in a lot of this globalization, but in foreign language learning we are far behind. Are we going to keep demanding that everyone learn English? Right now it's only the "official" language of Canada, The USA, Great Britain, Australia, New Zealand, Soccer (which everyone BUT Americans call football) and a few smaller countries I can't think of. I'm not a geographer.

ASL is American Sign Language, and though it is only spoken in Canada and the United States, the sheer number of deaf and hard of hearing individuals who need speak the language are severely outnumbering those of us who can interpret it.

4. You can speak two languages simultaneously.

Granted, when you are speaking English (or any other language for that matter) while signing, it then is not true ASL, because ASL grammar and English grammar are different. ASL grammar is much more like Spanish in that the subject gets name first and then described. Details aside, I am teaching my daughter to sign and I can speak the words to her at the same time. I sign "more milk" while asking her if she wants "more milk". She may get it faster if I did one or the other, I may be confusing her, but guess what? She understands both anyway. She's going to be bilingual- what what! My girl's gots SKILLZ!

3. You can speak to people from long distances.

Say you're in a room full of people and you see your friend from a long way off. You know yelling will do no good because the music is blaring and everyone is laughing and chatting. So you sign! Even from very far away, a fluent signer can recognize what is being said and can understand.

2. You can deliver a very powerful message in places where voices are not permitted to be loud.

One of my main goals of teaching Brooklyn sign language is so I can threaten her in church.

No, just kidding. But seriously- how may times have we seen parents (or been the parents) loudly "whisper" to their kid to be quiet or they're gonna get it? How many arms have been grabbed, how many snaps? With a quick STOP. ENOUGH. and an evil look, you may have just found a crisis averted, and with no one in the surrounding pews any the wiser. However, I used this same theory with my speech and debate students. While sitting in a round watching competitors, a couple of them started goofing off. I had taught them enough signs to understand certain things, so when I signed STOP NOW, my class clown signed back to me NO. STOP TOMORROW. Funny, Logan. Very funny.

1. You won't wake up one morning and find you've become French, but you just may wake up day and realize you're deaf.

Take this study from Gallaudet University, for example:
A Brief Summary of Estimates for the Size of the Deaf Population
in the USA Based on Available Federal Data and Published Research:

  • About 2 to 4 of every 1,000 people in the United States are "functionally deaf," though more than half became deaf relatively late in life; fewer than 1 out of every 1,000 people in the United States became deaf before 18 years of age.
  • However, if people with a severe hearing impairment are included with those who are deaf, then the number is 4 to 10 times higher. That is, anywhere from 9 to 22 out of every 1,000 people have a severe hearing impairment or are deaf. Again, at least half of these people reported their hearing loss after 64 years of age.
  • Finally, if everyone who has any kind of "trouble" with their hearing is included then anywhere from 37 to 140 out of every 1,000 people in the United States have some kind of hearing loss, with a large share being at least 65 years old.
No, not everyone who is deaf uses sign language. There is a very distinct difference in being deaf and Deaf, the capital D signifying that that person does not view themselves as handicapped, but rather belonging to a community who enjoy their language, culture and see themselves just like everyone else in the world. They see themselves as if they were just French, Italian, Mexican... just from another place, another world, just someone else needing a translator. There are others who are deaf who choose not to learn sign language or who choose to gain as much of their hearing back as possible to feel "normal", through cochlear implants and hearing aids.

Regardless, the fact remains that you could wake up one day and not be able to hear. And then what do you do? Write notes on scraps of paper back and forth for the rest of your life? Write "yes" and "no" on your hands like Max Von Sydow in "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close"?

Or maybe you're like me, and one day you wake up and you have your hearing, but you have no voice. What then? For me, the answer is clear: my poor husband has to put his eyes to work, because if my throat hurts, I'm not talking. I'm signing. Last night we had a few hours of talking about the basketball championship, his baseball games, my day, and filling out a bracket of 64 about what the Best Disney Song of all time was. I found some of his choices a bit blasphemous, but then again, any critic would complain that "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" was a 15 seed. We each chose 2 of each seed, and  I just hate that song. Whatcha gonna do 'bout it? He put "When I See an Elephant Fly" as a 15 seed. He's such a child of the 90's. No respect for the classics. I say that... but "Bare Necessities" eventually won his championship and "Part of Your World" won mine, so that's ironic. THE POINT IS: probably 70% of our night was discussed through signs, and the rest through whispers.

Talking is overrated. Learn ASL. You'll look cool at parties. There, a 6th reason, on the house.

*I-LOVE-YOU*

Monday, April 2, 2012

Don't Cry Over Spilt Milk

*or spilled milk. In the UK "spilt" is appropriate, as is "burnt" (burned), "spelt" (spelled) and "dreamt" (dreamed). Just a little factoid to add to your ever-expanding index of useless knowledge. Regardless, I prefer "spilt"


Ironically, blogger finds "spilt", "spelt" and "dreamt" all incorrect spellings, but "burnt" is apparently a-okay. And, surprisingly, so is "a-okay". Weird. But I digress.

So this phrase, this "Don't cry over spilt milk", means don't get upset over something that's not that big of a deal. Agreed- the frustration of the little things shouldn't rob us of our daily joys. Unless it's breastmilk. That stuff is like gold. Cry all you want after accidentally spilling that stuff (A thought I've no doubt shared before, but it's worth repeating). However, since I currently have roughly a cup of whole milk curdling on the floorboard of my passenger seat, it's not a very useful idiom. Perhaps the phrase would be more apropos if it were "Don't cry over spilt milk, just vomit and clean it all up",  or "Don't cry over spilt milk, just vomit and be done with it"... either way, the word "vomit" needs to be in there somewhere.

After being incapacitated with a 101 fever, lymph nodes the size of dump trucks, and aches in muscles I didn't know existed, all I wanted today was to get in and out of the grocery store in one piece. But nooooooo. I had to grab the gallon of milk that Freddy Kruger got a hold of and not realize it until I was back in the apartment parking lot.

*sigh*

I just can't wait to put Brooklyn to bed so I can do some hardcore carpet cleaning so my car doesn't smell like a dairy product. And since it's hard to tell sarcasm over typing, I'll let you know: I'm being extremely sarcastic.