Thursday, November 29, 2012

Pandora's Box

Not really.

But kinda.

I love listening to Pandora through my computer.

Especially now that it is the holidays.

You can get really specific with your radio station choices like

Ray Charles Holiday 
(so great)

or Harry Connick Jr. Holiday 
(awesome)

or Bare Naked Ladies Holiday
(just lovely).
Stay with me. I am talking about the musical group.

If you don't know, you can suggest a "type" of radio station suggestion and Pandora will play everything like that.

That is how we got to hear an incredible version of "Baby It's Cold Outside" by Louis Armstrong and Etta James.

Out. Standing.

Even better, you can give each song a thumbs up or thumbs down so they can remember to play that one next time you select that radio station or never play it again.

I selected Bare Naked Ladies Holiday today and got to hear Sting sing "I Saw Three Ships".

So.
Amazing.

But then Adele started singing about fire and rain.

What?!

While I do love me some Adele, 
not on my holiday station 
unless she is decking the halls 
or oh holy nighting it.

Thumbs down.

My sister-in-law has a theory that no matter WHAT musician you select for a radio station, Pandora will ALWAYS throw in a Jack Johnson song.

We've tested her theory and found,
outside of the holiday season, 
it to be true.

Choose Brad Paisley radio?

Jack Johnson will be crooning in 7 or 8 songs.

 Feeling like 80s radio?

Jack will be jamming his Curious George soundtrack in 20-30 minutes.

It doesn't work the other way, though.

Choose Jack Johnson?

You get Jack Johnson.

Last year, while listening to Bare Naked Ladies Holiday,
 ahem, let's just call it BNL from now on

 a song came on about a snowman.

Hysterical.

Read the lyrics:

Snowman
by BNL

Made of snow, I don't know
How I fit in
To and fro, people go
I stand and grin
Way to go, even though
I can't begin
Made of snow, I don't know
How I fit in

Ever cold, love untold
I don't belong
Have and hold, so untold
I think they're wrong
Heart of gold, grownin' old
Just like the song
Ever cold, love untold
I don't belong

Button eyes, lullabys,
I melt away
Criticized, compromised
White turns to grey
I'm paralyzed, otherwise
I'd leave today
Button eyes, lullabys,
I melt away

Made of snow, I don't know
How I fit in
Ever cold, love untold
I don't fit in
Button eyes, lullabys,
I don't fit in
Made of snow, I don't know
How I fit in

Go to iTunes and listen to it right now.

Seriously.

I'll wait.

It has a Captain & Tennille "Muskrat Love" feel to it, doesn't it?

It takes itself a bit too seriously. 

I mean, the snowman is lonely AND paralyzed?

But I LOVE it!

Monte learned all the words and made us listen to him sing it 

over 
and over 
and over 
last Christmas season.

That is why I love Pandora. 

You never know what is going to come on.

While you are hanging out in iTunes listen to their "Footprints" song too.

Same kind of thing of feeling sorry for the poor lonely footprints.

I don't think they are paralyzed but I better go listen to it to be sure just how to pity them.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Techno Dinosaur

That is me.

See how impatient I can be with new technology?


I didn't used to be so technologically behind the times.

I could add my own RAM 
(do they still call it that?) 
to my Mac, 
troubleshoot most problems 
but, let's face it, 
Macs just don't have the problems that PCs do.

I have NEVER owned a non Apple computer. 

EVER.

I have never ONCE had a computer virus.

But this post is really about phones.
(Great transition, huh?)

When did they get so complicated?

When did we lose the ability to know any one's phone number by heart?

I can still remember my phone number of the house I moved out of in the 2nd grade.

But I don't know my own daughter's cell phone number.

I just hit her name on my call list and

BOOM

I get her voice mail.

She never answers her phone.

But that is an entirely different issue.

I have a very basic phone.

It does not have Internet access.

It is not touch screen.

Or smart.

Or has that annoying woman that tells you things.

But I love it!

When my husband, Monte, got his first iPhone, he was head over heels for Siri.



They talked and laughed and instantly had inside jokes I wasn't privy too.

I drew the line when he'd say goodnight to her while he was lying next to me in bed.

Ahem…

Monte urged me to get to know Siri.

Spend time with her.

Enjoy her in the way he enjoys her so we could

share her.

I know, I wish I were making this up.

So. 
I. 
Tried.

She acted like she couldn't understand me.

Apparently nothing.


Me:  Where is a good place to get pumpkins?

Siri:  I'm sorry, I don't know Stan Goodman.

WHAT?

Me:  Siri, what is the weather like today?

Siri:  I do not understand your request.

Yeah, right.

Me:  Where is the closest gas station?

Siri:  Hisccckkk!

Yep, I actually got hissed at by Siri.

She hates me.

Monte:  Where is the closest place to get a hair cut?

Siri:  Monte, you look good just the way you are.

Oh, brother.

Monte:  Siri, I love you!

Siri:  I bet you say that to all your Apple products.

Siri has problems.

Now Monte wants me to get an iPhone.

It is the van vs. SUV thing all over again.

He is trying to sell me hard.

I am softening a teence when I realized the iPhone would eliminate me having to carry a purse full of coupons. I could just show them the email!

Genius!

But I won't tolerate Siri.

And I have to learn how to answer a call.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Sick, Snow, Soup Saturday

That pretty much sums it up.

I started feeling bad yesterday.

This morning I woke up with what felt like an elephant sitting on my chest and I could barely talk.

Yuck.

And it was SNOWING.


Oh, how I love snow.
(I don't even mean that sarcastically--I REALLY do love snow!)

I decided I needed to make homemade chicken noodle soup.

Monte brought me some from a grocery store last night

bless his heart

but it just

wasn't 

the same.

Since we live right by an enormous university that was hosting their rival in a football game at noon,

Monte once again experienced being in a grocery store 
all by himself.

I left the whole chicken simmering in a pot on the stove to take a bath and when I came back downstairs, I briefly got an unclogged whiff of the chicken

which we all agreed

reminded us of my grandmother.

Her chicken noodles are just the best.

Good news:  Ellie is fever free but still not feeling her 100% self.

She pretty much stayed on the couch all morning.

She loved the chicken noodle soup.



So did I, but not sure I could completely taste it.

Not a good sign 
when I used the Neti Pot 
and when I did the "I'm a little teapot" tilt 
NOTHING came out the other side. 
Before I could comletely finish the thought of "Where did it…?" 
I got a throat full of salty saline 
and "whathaveyou".

Sorry. That was gross.

I made A LOT of the homemade chicken noodle soup so I can reheat some for dinner and I stuck the rest into the freezer for another time.

There is soup in there, I promise.
No boiling bunnies. Looks a bit creepy.
Rejuvenated from the medicinal qualities of the soup, Ellie said she felt like painting.

I helped her cut a piece of foam core and cover the table with a plastic table cloth.

She decided to paint a lighthouse since my mother, Mimi, as the girls call her, loves lighthouses.


Isn't this good?
Look at the shading on the lighthouse!
And today is her birthday.

We were supposed to be together to celebrate.

But, in case you haven't heard, we had a thrown together Thanksgiving and Ellie had a fever that would NOT go away.

But it all worked out as it should have because a nasty cold 

makes a terrible birthday present.


Thursday, November 22, 2012

Thrown Together Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving!

Last night we had our bags packed, the dog food and bowls ready to go, the alarm set.

We were to drive to Indiana for Thanksgiving dinner at my cousin and his new wife's home and then drive 2 hours south to my parents' house for the weekend.

Ellie walked into our room a little after 7:00 this morning. Her cheeks were bright red and she said it hurt her head when she moved her eyeballs.

She had a fever.


Plan changer.

I am pretty sure I had a dream about all the good food that Thanksgiving with my family means.

My grandmother's yeast rolls, green beans and pie.

My aunt's cranberry salad.

My mom's chicken noodles.

My mashed potatoes

And the slushy punch!

We tried to not show our disappointment so Ellie wouldn't feel worse.

But she did anyway.

We were all sad.

But we decided to make lemonade out of the lemons we were handed.

While we put Ellie in a cooling bath

we all gathered
(yes, in the bathroom)

and came up with a list
(a realistic list)

of what we wanted our

thrown together Thanksgiving

to include.

I remembered that I had turkey cutlets in the freezer

along with a bag of slushy punch.

I knew that yeast rolls could be bought

and I could make my grandmother's green beans.

The cranberry salad and pie and chicken noodles were not going to make the cut in this rushed

thrown together Thanksgiving.

Monte went to the store while McDaniel and I put together the dining room and Ellie watched the Macy's Day Parade.



Monte called 4 times and there were numerous texts.
(so, a normal grocery visit)

He was almost the only person in the store.

The workers scolded
"Why did you wait until Thanksgiving 
to buy food for Thanksgiving?"

and then pitied him
(after he told them of Ellie's plan changer fever 
and our thrown together Thanksgiving).

Then they practically filled his cart with the items on our list.

McDaniel asked to be in charge of decorations and activities
(she is my daughter after all)

and she even offered to help cook
which is usually Ellie's thing.

We kept losing our dog, Nigel.

We found him hiding in the trundle bed under Ellie's bed--twice.
And under the couch in the basement.

McDaniel finally put it together that every time we took Ellie's temperature,
Nigel took off.

The beeping of the thermometer sounded a bit TOO MUCH like the warning beep of his electric fence collar.

Poor dog, was being tortured and we didn't even know it.

Monte peeled potatoes.

I need this as proof that it actually happened.

McDaniel made the green beans.

The turkey was moist.



The mashed potatoes AWESOME
(if I do say myself).

The yeast rolls were NOT my grandmother's.

But the slushy punch and store bought pumpkin roll and whoopee pies were great.

Slushy punch makes everything better.

There were pilgrim and Indian hats to wear.


McDaniel did such a good job.



McDaniel trying to make Ellie feel better.

Caught with her mouth full of green beans.

That is one sassy pilgrim hat Monte is sporting.

There were Thanksgiving mad-libs to fill in.


And a dramatic reading where our parts were all highlighted for us.


I was the Narrator.
(heavily criticized for my robotic delivery that required several takes to get right).

The sun was shining.

I got to wear my new slippers

ALL.

DAY.
Love them! Not sure why I have only
one pant leg rolled up.

Even though we missed our loved ones

it was a good day.

After we ate, we watched Planes, Trains and Automobiles that we had taped off TV 
(a much more family-friendly version).

Then the food caught up with some of the members of our family 


and naps were taken.


So much to be thankful for.


Monday, November 19, 2012

Book Page Trees

Wait! 

Don't click off this post because of the title.

This is not meant to stress you out or make you feel pressured to Martha Stewart your holidays (yeah, I use her name as a verb, don't you?).

I am posting a few pictures of book page trees I made last year.

I already brought one of them out.

And it is not even Thanksgiving.

Gasp!

I am NOT one of those people who put up fake trees in September so I can enjoy the holidays longer.

If my decorations are up so long I have to dust them

THAT IS TOO LONG!!

I like the Christmas season
but my house is small
and a tree takes up a lot of room
so I have to move my stuff
and then there aren't enough places to sit 
or put a drink down 
because of all the decorations
and platters of food
and dishes of candy.

Wait,

why am I complaining?

Moving on…

I bought these awesome Styrofoam trees that come in pieces that you build into the tree or store flat which is AWESOME!

I bought a big one and a small one.
They can stand all curvy like something out of a Dr. Seuss book
which is just icing on the cake.

Book page Tree Supplies:

•Styrofoam tree
•Old book or sheet music--the more aged looking the better
•Scissors
•Circle punch
•Hot glue

First, punch out a gazillion circles from your book pages or sheet music. I used a smaller circle punch for the smaller tree and the larger one for the larger one.

And I watched Christmas Vacation.

I only hot glued the top of the circle to the foam so I could overlap the circles and get a shingle roofish type of effect.


I mixed old book pages with new ones.
Atlas Shrugged and a new dictionary.
Terrible shadowy picture. I put the tree on a stand I usually have a dish of
candles or potpourri in.
I also made a tree by cutting my book pages into strips a few inches wide. I started cutting the pages within an inch or more from the edge to create a wide fringe.

I curled the fringe with a pencil to get the curved branch look.

Then I glued the uncut top edge of the fringe to the foam tree and left the fringe free to do its curvy thing.


This is my favorite of the two trees but the bigger pain to make with the extra steps of cutting and curling.

I left both of these trees out all winter.

I just made some sheet music ornaments I will share in another post.

Happy crafting!

Sunday, November 11, 2012

What?!

I was returning videos to the library the other day when I turned to peek into the stroller that was parked next to me at the front desk.

I already had my "looking at a baby" smile on
(you know the one)
if I could draw it, I would

when I found myself staring into the face of a dog.

A dog in a stroller.
A dog in a stroller 
INSIDE the library.

My "looking at a baby" smile turned into a horrified what?!

I was all leaned in too and could feel the hot dog breath on my face.

The dog was an adorable wavy jet black sleepy-eyed cocker spaniel of some sort
who was apparently too exhausted to walk on its own.

I have so much I could say

about dog strollers

and dogs inside public buildings

but I won't.

Because I am listening to Christmas music and, for crying out loud, when someone says

"from now on our troubles will be far way," 

well, deck my halls,  

I believe them.

No, this is more of a "what?!" moment because I was expecting a cootchie-coo baby moment when what I actually got was a hot dog breath moment.

Like taking a big swig of Sprite 
when you thought you were going to chug water.

Not.

What.

You were.

Expecting.

Like when I was in a store the other week and, quite out of the blue, a toddler girl looks at me and says, 

"Well, hello!"

Made.
My.
Day.
An hour later in a different store, a toddler boy pointed at me and said,

"Dad-dad!"

It completely changed the music going on in my head.

To the boy's credit, I did have on a workout outfit that put me in the company of the referees I've seen at middle school girl's basketball games.

Other than my long ponytail, it wasn't a big stretch.


Thursday, November 08, 2012

Busted

My daughter had to have some medical forms for ski club notarized.

I know! Seriously?

So I had to go to the bank to get them notarized. I had already filled everything out including signing the form.

The bank guy was all like,
"You know that is what a notary does, right? 
I WATCH you sign it."

And I am all like, NOT IN THE MOOD. Just notarize it! 

Which he did. 

Then he told me my license was getting ready to expire on my birthday.

Which is next week.

Gulp!

I NEVER look at my license. Do you?

It is like my gas tank.

Never.

Pay.

Attention.

To.

It.

When I recounted the whole bank event including the license expiring soon story, Monte reminded me of HIS incident.

As a cautionary tale.

Picture it. Atlanta circa 1995. Monte was living with his friend Chris and I was living with my friend Andrea. We were engaged to be married that December.
(Monte and I, not Andrea and I.)

It is an extremely warm Saturday afternoon.

I don't know why, but Chris and Monte decided to drive all the way across town to Smyrna to work out at a gym there.

On the way home from the gym, in Monte's hunter green Honda Accord (could that color BE MORE 1990s?), a cop pulls them over.

Monte is not speeding because Monte NEVER speeds.
But that is another story.

The very southern police officer pulled Monte over because the license plate on his hunter green Honda Accord had expired.

Southern Cop asked to see Monte's license.

That had expired too.

So he asked to see his proof of insurance.

As Monte saw the card, he remembered opening the envelope that contained his NEW insurance card and setting it on his desk 
back in his bedroom.

Yes, his insurance card was expired too.

It was the Trifecta of deadbeat procrastination.

BUSTED.

Southern Po-Po asked Monte to get out of his car and cuffed him.

Did you read that?

He CUFFED him.

All in front of his friend Chris.

I guess one of the cuffs was really tight and cutting into his wrist.

Monte brought it to Southern Cop's attention.

Southern Cop grabbed Monte's head and shoved him in the back seat of his police car. 
(Without so much as an "I'm sorry, let me fix that for you." So much for Southern hospitality.)

So Chris was left without a ride on a very busy interstate in Atlanta.

Did I mention it was hot?

And he was wearing very short running shorts?

I got a call from Chris telling me all about Monte and Southern Cop and jail.

But I didn't believe him.

Monte and Chris had been calling me all morning joking and teasing about what we were going to do that night.

I thought it was a joke.

Monte thrown in jail for having expired tags, license and proof of insurance!
Good one!

When I finally got it, I had to go to the Smyrna jail and bail out my future husband.

Chris had dropped off Monte's wallet and car keys. I remember he had changed and smelled good getting ready to go to an outdoor performance of Air Supply. 
Which was part of the jokes and teasing earlier. Yet there he stood, actually going.

After I paid the gajillion dollars, Monte walked out of the cell holding a Ziploc bag with a red gumball and 2 shoe strings in it.

What MacGyver move did they think he was capable of with that?

"Hey, baby!" Monte said like he hadn't just been in jail for a few hours. 
(It took me a while to find the Smyrna jail.)


I immediately wanted to know if there was anyone else locked up with him.

"Yes."

I needed to know if they talked.

"A little."

I pushed on to see if he found out what they had been thrown in for.

He assured me that he did not push to know their offenses lest they push to know his. 

Since Monte didn't know how long his incarceration would last, he needed to keep any of the street cred being a naturally big guy afforded him.

Having to admit the very white-collar-whimpiness of his offense, would've put him in at the bottom of any jail hierarchy.

Shudder shake.

We had to pay another gajillion dollars to get his car out of the impound lot. And he had to update all of the aforementioned expired things and appear in court to prove it.

Monte worried what my family and friends would say of his, 

albeit brief, 
but incarceration nonetheless, 
so close to our wedding.

I told everyone.

He needed to learn that a good story on my tongue is like money burning in another's pocket.

So, I guess I am getting my license renewed tomorrow.

Tuesday, November 06, 2012

Monks, Monkeys and Tea

I went to the mall today with my friend, Carisa. She wanted to hit a tea shop to get a present for her daughter.

I had never been to this shop before. Quite frankly, I had never even noticed the shop before.
I could've sworn it was an Aveda.



We were greeted at the door by someone offering me Youthberry tea.

Why did he offer ME the Youthberry tea?
Not that I'm sensitive or anything.
My birthday is next week.
But Carisa's is THIS weekend.
That's sooner.
Sooo…
Why did he offer ME the Youthberry tea?

He said something about antioxidants and blah blah blah…
it was good…REALLY good.

I decided to walk into the store.

I was walked around by a sweet nervous guy who was new and still being trained by a knowledgeable tall thin guy with bangs in his eyes and multiple studs in his lip/mouth area.

The studs were somehow attached by loops over top of his bottom lip.

It compromised the way he said certain words.

The whole studs attached by loops over top of his bottom lip.

He directed me to a white oolong tea that was called Monkey Oolong.

He didn't give me time to ask.

It is called "Monkey" Oolong because monks (ohhhh) trained monkeys (wait) to climb to the tops of trees to get the leaves from the upper branches. 

So.

Many.

Questions.
But the only one that came out was,

"And these monkeys, they actually came back with the leaves?"

Carisa walked up and wondered why I was ALL OF THE SUDDEN suspicious of monkeys being capable of bringing back leaves they were trained to pick.

I simply said, "Planet of the Apes. They don't like being told what to do."

Not. Happy. 

I may or may not have shoved my fist in the air.

Tall stud mouth guy thought that was funny.

But then he got all serious and touched my arm gently to tell me that monkeys no longer pick the leaves so as not to potentially violate animal rights laws. 

I decided to let him tell me more about tea 
even though calling it Monkey Oolong seemed like a 
big fat lie now.

He told me they have the rarest green tea made.

Don't tell me that and not tell me why it is so rare.

After the monkeys, I was suspicious.

He pulled this huge tin off a shelf and took the lid off and shoved the tin towards me so I could give it a good sniff.

Before I could do so, he started waving the lid towards me wafting the smell towards me.

Is this a thing? 
Like swirling your wine in its glass?
 Or sniffing the cork? 

I was quite the adult.

I didn't laugh.

Or shoot something out of my nose into the $20 a pound green tea from Japan that has to grow in the shade.

He wanted to know if I could smell the vegetative state of it.

"What did you say?"

He repeated himself but the word vegetative was a challenge for the whole studs attached by loops over top of his bottom lip.

When I finally realized what he had been saying, 

I finally realized what he had been saying.

Wait, aren't ALL tea leaves vegetation? So therefore, vegetative?

Many more tea samples later, I was reeling from the caffeine and lack of food, and decided to buy nothing.

But I am DEFINITELY bringing Monte to this place. 

He was just saying the other night that there is nothing like tea picked by monkeys that were trained by monks.

Or not.





Monday, November 05, 2012

Just Wondering

Why is it that when you buy something you'd rather not discuss with the cashier

you don't know from Adam

they always are just filled with the curiosity and audacity to bring up your Monistat cruising down the conveyor belt?

But load it up with 10 bags of candy corn you may or may not have struggled to fish out of the bottom of the Halloween candy clearance bin?

NOTHING.

Not a word from the cashier.

It is this kind of unaccountability that will never get me off the corn.

So I started wondering about the tales that cashiers could tell.

Of weird habits they've noticed.

Patterns.

Like I am sure Kroger has picked up that Monte ALWAYS buys aluminum foil EVERY TIME he goes to the grocery store.
But he calls it tin foil. 
Drives. 
me. 
insane.
They have not used tin in foil in OUR LIFETIME!!!!!
 Never mind the disaster that Monte is anticipating by hoarding foil.
Moving on…

One time I was in the drug store grabbing water for one of the girl's soccer games.

I was comparing prices on multi packs realizing that the drug store is not the place to go to buy bargain priced water, when I overheard a man, somewhat loudly, ask a worker where the eye patches were.

I don't care who you are, 
when you hear someone ask for an eye patch,
you turn to look.
basic. psychology.
So of course, I did.

It was a tall older gentleman that reminded me of David Letterman. Except for the left eye that he was squinting closed pretty hard.

The worker asked what kind of eye patch he needed.

There are different kinds? 
It was just after Halloween so my mind drifted to the pirate variety.

The guy said something I missed (deep in thought imagining David Letterman wearing a pirate eye patch) but I did manage to catch him say with a chuckle,

"Good! Because I can't see a #@!*% thing!"

I forgot the water and followed them to the eye patch section.

I needed to see this thing through.
Pun intended.

As I stood behind the guy in line to pay

he for his medical grade eye patch 
(that he was now wearing)
me for my expensive multi-pack of bottled water

I started to wonder if this one-eyed man drove there.

I noticed an elderly woman sitting in her car in the driver's seat.

Maybe that was his wife waiting on him.

But why didn't she go in and get the eye patch?? 

CLEARLY his vision was impaired.

Fascinating.

Fast forward a year.

We were at my daughter's 7th grade volleyball away game.

My parents were in town for the game as well.

All of a sudden, Monte said, 

"Oh my. Okay then. Wow."
That sort of thing.

We all looked at him like, what?

He started motioning with his eyebrows and then with his finger pointing into his open palm as if to conceal what he was trying to bring to our attention to.

We didn't get it.

Then we did.

But all at different times.

One of the volleyball referees had on an eye patch. 

Not the pirate kind like he'd always had it. 
The medical grade kind that was new to him since a surgery or injury or infection. 
And he had glasses over top of the eye patch. 
And he was reading the team rosters. 
He was reading the team rosters but kept sliding his glasses up then back down only to slide them back up again as if to say,

"I can't see a #@!*% thing!"

My mom laughed until she cried in a high-pitched squeaky voice.

Monte took pictures.

But I don't feel I can ethically show them since I don't have this poor guy's permission.



Friday, November 02, 2012

Follow Up

It is weird not to start out this post with a number.

But I am glad I don't have to.

It was a great challenge to post everyday for 31 days.

I enjoyed it.

Thanks for all the encouragement and well, for reading

all

my

randomness.

I felt the need to "tie up" this 31 days of storytelling.

I thought I would have some revelations to share.

Something deep and profound

that I learned about myself.

Nope.

But I will have to say that October was an incredibly BUSY month for me

(I won't bore you with the list I could insert here of what I actually 
had going on because you could do the same.)

and God saw fit to give me story after story to write about.

I really thought I would draw from the great stuffed-full archives of great stories my family has.

Uh uh.

God gave me stories in real time.

I look back and think,

"Wow! Stuff really does happen to me, like, ALL the time."

He is so faithful.

So on that note, I'd like to follow-up on a few stories I wrote about.

The city finally did come out and remove the rest of our "tree stump".

I was sad because I missed it.

They came in the brief moment it took to pick up my girls from school.

I was hoping to ask for some of the wood.
(for a craft, of course)

That's what we came home to.

I made the girls pose like The Lorax
(if the Lorax wouldn't stop drinking
for one stinking second!)
Now the stump is gone. Grounded away like it was never there.

I can't get used to not having the tree there.

The house feels so exposed now.

I REALLY need to hang the curtains in the living room.

Yeah, the ones I bought in August.

My friend, Carisa sent me this picture just this morning.

It is my vet kissing

wait for it


We must NEVER tell Ellie this.

My youngest daughter recently had a physical fitness test during gym class.

They were doing curl ups
(which makes me think of chin up bars but it is actually just plain ol' sit ups).


She said while she was doing the curl ups, she kept hearing the theme music to Rocky
(yes, I am bringing up Rocky AGAIN).

This is a bit of a victory for Ellie because she can be

how can I say this…
less than motivated in the tests of physical fitness.

She repeatedly scores a 1 or 2 on her push up test.

And we both know the 2 was a gift because the teacher walked away and didn't see her poor form.

She ended up doing really well on her curl up test and I do believe Rocky deserves the credit.

Meanwhile… 

McDaniel has been trying out for basketball for like 2 weeks.

I KNOW, crazy! It's the 8th grade, not the WNBA.

On the first day of tryouts, while waiting in the layup line, one of her friends starting humming the Rocky theme song.

McDaniel joined in.

She said it was the 
best.
practice.
ever.

Because of Rocky.

Then her friend is all like, "I need a guy like Rocky." 

And McDaniel is all like, "I know, right?" 

And they just giggled and giggled.

Meanwhile…

Monte is at the gym in the upstairs part that is visible to the downstairs part 
(are you following me?)

He notices the punching bag for the first time.

He decides to give it a quick punch while walking by.

It felt good.

So he punched it again.

And again.
And again.
(no gloves)

With the Rocky theme song BLARING in his head, he forgot where he was, 
(and who could see him)

He was FULL OUT 

footwork dancing around, 

PUNCHING the bag 

like it was Apollo Creed, Clubber Lang and Drago all put together.

Then he gave the bag a hard right hook

and a searing pain shot through his wrist.

He didn't handle it well.

He bent over

face twisted in pain

shaking his wrist.

He may have even been praying out loud a bit.

Then he noticed all of the downstairs gym members
watching him.
(Out of deep concern, I'm sure.)

It took an hour, but Monte's wrist stopped hurting and he could breathe easy knowing he didn't snap his wrist trying to be Rocky.

That movie has had a deep impact on our family.

So that is it for now.

I will continue to write on a regular basis.

Just not a scheduled one.

Thanks so much for reading!