Saturday, March 31, 2012

Ponies and Bronies

Remember me discussing how guys suddenly decided that My Little Ponies were cool a few years back and instantly became their own internet cult called Bronies?

Girls have loved My Little Ponies since they first came out, and it still totally annoys me that previously being a pony collector was one of those things that people think you're nuts for and now being a Brony is totally hip and cool.

*Bro Hoof*

Also, if I see one more stupid boy posting about how his 6 pony toys from McDonald's are super cool I am going to scream.

THIS is a pony collection that is super cool. MY pony collection is super cool. Your handful of McDonald's toys is just pitiful, but even worse is you bragging about having more of them than other Bronies.

Dear Bronies, we loved them first.  
Sincerely, the Girls

Friday, March 30, 2012

I Shop for Houses as if they were Shoes

I found another house I want.

This little one here.

It's on the small side, with only 962 finished square feet (and another 616 in an unfinished basement) but that also would make it more manageable for me by myself.

And it's cheap.

I like cheap.

Cheap means I might actually have a teensy tiny realistic chance of buying it (or something similar) sometime this lifetime.  

The biggest drawback is it's location. It's out in the middle of Longmont, which isn't a terrible place to live by any means and many people certainly do so because houses are actually relatively affordable out there.

But it's a touch farther away from Boulder than might be ideal commute wise (although for the record it'd still be less than I'm driving now), and it would also mean really relocating the girls to a whole new community.

Kristina wouldn't go off to Kindergarten with the kids she's been at preschool with. I wouldn't continue to almost sorta be making friends with those parents. We would lose the small town aspect of our lives.

And my parents would be a little ways away. Certainly close enough so that they would probably see the girls at least every few weeks, but not RIGHT THERE should something come up.

However, being out of the mountains would be a huge help weather wise, where stuff like snow just isn't the same issue as it is up here.

(Read: Marty wouldn't have to worry about shoveling the driveway because it wouldn't be that deep and it'd all melt off anyways real quick)

And there really is appeal in things like sidewalks running right by your front door when looking at little bikes and scooters that the little people want to ride more often than they get to.

But far and away, the biggest mark of note in this house is the two upstairs bedrooms.


*nearly faints*

Yes yes, paint is cheap and easy and I could totally do it to any house. But.... this one comes with a pink room for Kristina and a purple room for Adrianna.

(Have I mentioned Adrianna's been liking purple ever since she got handed down the cutest little purple pony shirt? Although she still has strong opinions about her shoes needing to be pink. Just ask my mother, who tried really hard to get her new shoes that she wouldn't wear since they were only partially pink.)

Plus getting around to actually painting rooms isn't Marty's strong suite. Just sayin'. 

The listing does say it needs TLC, which is always one of those really questionable things... But at least as far as the pictures are concerned, it really doesn't look that bad (or at least, I've looked at pictures of houses that are waaaaay worse).

The bathrooms look downright nice even!

It does look like closet doors are missing, and the kitchen most certainly needs appliances and is a very basic bottom line sort of kitchen to begin with, but I'm totally ok not having shiny counter tops and buying a new non-icky dishwasher and fridge.

There are always the questions about windows and furnaces and hot water heaters and roofs in every potential purchase, but the house isn't so old to make everything definitely NEED replacement right at once.

(Or so my clueless self is figuring right now. Don't worry, I'm sure life will teach me how wrong I probably am soon enough.) 

The unfinished basement is a huge question mark, as there are no pictures of it, but with the house having been built in 1981 I'd be genuinely surprised if it was THAT bad.

I've had some BAD basements. It would take a lot to make me pause at this point. And I totally see the space as being a play area of the girls, cement floor and all until it got finished.

The yard doesn't look to be in overly great condition, although it's a little hard to tell whether it was the time of year the pictures were taken (all yards rather look like that in the winter here in between snow falls) or whether the grass is really that poor.

But I'm not a huge caring-about-yards sort of person so long as there is space sufficient for something like a trampoline and kicking a ball around.

Also, if the grass in the backyard doesn't grow, that means it doesn't need to get mowed.....

But I'm sure I'd like, sprinkle some grass seed out there and remember to water it occasionally. Or at least let my children plant dandelions and play with the hose. That's totally the same thing, right? Yep, we would SO be the family with the yard made entirely of dandelions.

Excuse me, the AWESOME yard made entirely of dandelions.

(Note to self: Write blog post about planting dandelion seeds in my mother's garden as a child.)

((And write about the creepy basements. With pictures.))

So maybe, someday, I really might have a shot at buying my own perfect little house for my own  perfect little family.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Singing in the Mud

Yep, it's spring here.

And yes, my children WILL play for ages with absolutely nothing but dirt and water. Throw in a bucket and shovel, and they'll be happy to play in the driveway for the entire season.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

In Our Big Backyard

We had some more backyard visitors pass through last week.

Can you see them there in the woods? Adrianna did!


Sometimes not having a cliche fenced in square of green grass for a yard is really rather cool.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

A Sour Mood for Facebook

I should not go on facebook when I'm in a crummy mood, as I become especially cynical of the little slice of world filtering through the internet to me. Luckily, I'm usually very un-chatty in my sulkiness, thus leaving all this unsaid.

Until NOW!

First comes the melodramatic semi-cyptic status updates, not entirely dissimilar to what 14 year old girls and philosophy majors  post every five minutes.

I can't believe my life has suddenly come to this horrible amount of unbearable suckiness, how can I possibly still put on pants in the morning without my lucky penny?

Men are like bras, they break after going through the dryer twice and your friend always has bigger implants.  

The seeds were sown on a rock pile and yet I keep watering it and expecting petunias to sprout. Damn you petunias, damn you to hell.

I have everything Christmas specials say I need to be happy and yet I'm a sobbing mess over my complete lack of money, luxury car, and awesome penthouse suite.  The world lies, dear children, it lies indeed.

Then comes browsing the newsfeed.

Pictures are bad.

Aw, she looks so incredible while pregnant, I can't wait until she hits 38 weeks and gets fat just like everybody else. 

What a nice couple, standing there looking so coupley and happy... *sob* why don't I have some cute guy to take retarded smoochy pictures with on a beach and why don't my boobs look that awesome in a bikini?

Oh look, food. I wonder what Oyakodon is. I'm sure my peanut butter sandwich is almost as delicious. 

Wow it must be such an amazing experience to spend spring break doing some awesome trip with 12 of your best buds. I'm sure there *could* have been a reality in which I did that too. You know, hypothetically had friends and did shit.

Hey lookie there, more food! I hope they choke on it. 

Status updates are worse.

I'm so glad every other parent on the planet does better parenting than me. 

Oh yay, you got your dream job right out of college, I couldn't be happier for you while wanting to bash your skull in. 

Lots of people are going to see some probably awesome movie this weekend that I might manage to watch in about 5 or 6 years when it's constantly on cable. I better go look up the internet references to it now so I don't sound like a complete moron in every conversation for the next month. 

Seriously, do American's do NOTHING besides food as a hobby?

And then there are the dreaded moments where I accidentally left the chat window up.

No I don't want to talk to you, you're a 26 year old trust fund baby who hasn't a care in the world except for the really stupid ones you make up in your own head while insisting on giving me parenting advice on matters (namely, children) which know absolutely nothing about. 

Gah, you can't have a conversation with me without making it blatantly clear by the third sentence that you want to sleep with me regardless of the subtle fact that I really don't want to sleep with you.

Why do you always ask me to go get coffee? I don't even drink coffee, you should know that by now, we've been having this conversation for 8 years.

Yes. You're perfect. I know. Thanks for telling me. Again. I might have forgotten.

No I don't want to sleep with you either, do ALL of my male friends only want to sleep with me?

Monday, March 26, 2012

If I Were a Princess

I was never much of a fan of small rodents, and therefore wasn't real excited by the idea that as a princess I would have them frolicking to me constantly.

You know, in that little child's mind where OF COURSE I can be exactly like Aurora if though I am clearly not blond born in the 16th C. a cartoon drawing of a fairytale. 

However I have now discovered the perfect compromise of the small critter help constantly being offered to singing princesses and Marty's innate personality.

And it is awesome!

So, imagine that Fluttershy (that would be the always adorable yellow and pink pony here) is a princess.....

I love them cause they're cute and fluffy
and oh so good at taking out my enemyyyyyyyyyyyys! 

Disney stardom here I come!

Sunday, March 25, 2012

A Letter to the Library

Dear Library,

I think you're just awesome. No really, I do! And so do my kids!

And even though your children's section isn't the biggest I've ever seen, it's certainly respectable and we greatly enjoy selecting new picture books every few weeks.

My children also love playing on the little kids computer with all the reading games and I am eternally grateful that you have two sets of headphones hooked up, as it occasionally even allows me to find a book for myself.

But see, our constant state of having library books around the house means that, occasionally, they meet with some slight mishap.

And for those mishaps, I'm really sorry.

I'm really sorry about the Little Critters book that Kristina somehow pulled the middle pages out of. I'm really sorry about the Nightmare in my Closet book that Adrianna ripped a page half off in. I'm really sorry about the Brown Bear Brown Bear book that got orange juice spilled on it, and the copy of Curious George that had an unfortunate meeting with peanut butter.

And I'm really really sorry about the Are you my Mother book that Adrianna chewed a corner off of.

I swear, it's one of her (delicious) favorites!

So even though Chika Chika sometimes gets a little too much Boom Boom, please know that it's just because we are a literary loving (sometimes to death) sort of family.

Oh, and my most sincerest apologies of all about last week when they started running up and down the rows screeching while I was checking out our books. I swear we will have a very long talk about how the other library patrons might start beating them with books if they do that again.

Best wishes,

Me (& children)
Nederland Library new building grand opening, Jan 30th 2011

Saturday, March 24, 2012

The Day My Child Drank Syrup

Last week I made the girls pancakes for dinner one evening, and decided to cook up the remaining batter so Kristina could have pancakes in for lunch the next day at school.

All reasonable parent action here, yes? 

But then trouble started when I went to pack up Kristina's lunch box, even though at the time I certainly didn't mark it as trouble.

You see, Kristina's lunch box has two compartments to it, and most of the time her lunch fits in just the top one. However, I have certainly done things liked packed her spaghetti in the bottom compartment before without any problems, and didn't give sticking the pancakes in there a second thought.

I also packed her a little container of syrup in the main compartment with her milk and a banana, assuming she'd know that there was another part of her lunch for it to go on, or that at the very least she'd tell her teachers that Mommy sent her syrup for lunch and her teachers would then check her lunch box for something along the lines of pancakes.

And that is where I made the horrible horrible mistake of assuming 4 year olds think like actual people.

She didn't blink an eye (or open a mouth) at me sending her a container of syrup, assumed that the entirety of her lunch was in the top compartment, and promptly drank the syrup as part of her lunch with the pancakes untouched.

And then I showed up at the school as the kids were finishing their lunches.

Me: Kristina where are your pancakes?
Kristina: Silly Mommy, you didn't send me pancakes!
Me: Yes I did, they're right here in your lunch box.
Kristina: Oooooooooh. Can I have syrup on them?
Me: What did you do with the syrup you had ?
Kristina: I drank it!!

At that moment I decided it was best to just go find the preschool's big bottle of syrup for her and let the whole thing go.

You know, about how my stomach was feeling about ready to let go.....

Friday, March 23, 2012

My Coworkers Might Know Me Too Well

Yesterday I had another eye appointment, and decided to stop by Target afterwards.

Although my boss DID schedule me to have 3 days off in a row, I have to admit, it's just strange not being inside Target for any length of time longer than 24 hours.

Plus I needed soda and chocolate chips, and one thing Target keeps excellent prices on is chocolate chips.

So I began a lazy circulate around the store, indulging Adrianna in her whims and chatting with my coworkers as I came across them.

Don't worry though, I totally kept it educational and toddler focused by having Adrianna name off the colors of towels as we walked by. She only missed one, red.... but it's ok, it's not like that's a super important primary color or anything....... *ahem*

We soon made it to the toy section, and Adrianna immediately fell in love with a big pink ball. I have to admit, it was a pretty awesome big pink ball and I did feel a bit like a cruel mommy for making her put it back when we were leaving.

Now the Team Lead of the toy section (ok ok, the supervising boss of several important sections which also includes toys) just so happens to be the very same awesome beyond awesome coworker who changed my flat tire a little while back.

So you might think he likes me.

But you would be wrong.

Or at least, misled. As a general rule, he's never overly happy to see me hanging out in the toy section allowing my children to wreck small amounts of havoc while also causing social loafing in my coworkers, and my attempts to point out to him how I buy so many MORE toys from Target since working here while spending way LESS time letting my children destroy things don't really have the moving effect one might hope for.

But I think we have a pretty good mutual understanding in place at this point, where he generally ignores my hanging around the toy section so long as I'm not distracting his electronics team too much, pick up everything my kids get out, and occasionally do a little extra zoning for good measure.

(And if that ever fails, I'll just make him some brownies to squeak back into his good graces.)

And after I made sure the squishy animals were back in their proper squishy animal homes and pried the plastic wheelbarrow out of Adrianna's determined clutches, we migrated over to the section of the store we actually came in to see: the groceries.

The Target in Boulder is not a full Super Target (but rather what they call a P-Fresh store because the city wouldn't let them expand any more) and isn't the best place in the world to do a full grocery shopping trip with their abbreviated food selection.

However, I wasn't stocking up on a weeks worth of groceries, I only wanted chocolate chips and soda, and Target really does usually have competitive prices on both those items even before counting my employee discount.

So I picked up my chocolate and a few other things Adrianna insisted on, like a box of Teddy Grahams and orange juice, and we continued our meandering employee chatting progress through the store.

At one point, I had stopped to say hi to Adam and he noticed my shopping cart with it's three bags of chocolate chips sitting on top.

Adam: You needed some chocolate today huh?
Me: Nah, I just felt like doing some baking today.
Adam: So 2 of those are for baking and one is for eating?
Me: Um... yes...........

Yay science!
And then good ol' Capt'n Jack just HAD to chime in with: Oh she's lying, see how she's not wearing any makeup today? She's totally going to eat all three bags as soon as she gets home.

(I probably shouldn't flip off my superiors on a regular basis.)

And now I'm conflicted between annoyance that my coworkers might actually know me well enough to correctly gauge my chocolate buying/eating tendencies (even when they might imply eating copious amounts of chocolate chips), and being touched by the fact that I'm actually making friends!!

You see, my chocolate habits are one of those points of discussion that comes up at big Marty life events like my wedding, when my friends and family members whom had never previously met each other come together and become best buds after bonding over the shared annoyance about my tendency to do things like leave bags of M&Ms in their car (I was saving them for later!) which then got all melty and they ALWAYS knew it was me when they stuck their hand in the door holder thingy and it was goopy.

(Why yes, that IS an actual conversation I witnessed two of my bffs having on my wedding day.) 

So it's good to know that all the new people I have been meeting recently will have something to talk about with the older friends and family of Marty at my next large social gathering.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

A Toad Named Verdi

The dorm building I lived in my Sophomore year in college was conveniently located at the top of a hill next to the most questionable looking pond I have ever seen.

My biology professor energetically assured us that Ink Pond was in fact healthy and just especially good at growing stuff like algae (in excess, in my opinion) and not actually toxic as it appeared.

Even with the signs forbidding students from going in there.

But despite the pond regularly existing in such a state that a soda bottle could be tossed into it only to reside sitting on top of the water as a result of the thick algae growth until the eco students fished it off, it still was a very popular place for the local amphibian wildlife to hang out.

I had no idea how NOISY frogs can be until I had windows open at night by a pond in Iowa.

However, there was one species of particularly brave toad that liked to quietly hang out underneath the lamp posts in the evening to catch the bugs that would be drawn to the light, and many of these guys would completely ignore you walking by it.

(I was always a bit saddened by the dead frogs and toads with bike tracks across their middles that I'd see on the campus sidewalks every few mornings. Perhaps a little more fear of people would have served them well.)

One evening I came upon a particular complacent looking toad.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

I gently touched his back.

He looked at me.

I gingerly picked him up.

He looked at me.

I sat him on my palm a few inches above the ground.

He sat there.

I decided to keep him as a pet.

At the time I was in a Music History course, and in the middle of studying the Italian composer Claudio Monteverdi (who pretty much single-handedly advanced music from the Renaissance period to the Baroque and wrote like, the first real opera ever), and thought that Monteverdi was an excellent name for an amphibian.

However, the shortened form "Verdi" which I usually called him often left people thinking I'd just named the stupid thing after the Spanish color green, but explaining about the composer no-one knows about anyways just seemed like too much effort most of the time.

So for the record, I wasn't calling him green, I was calling him madrigal-y.

But the thing about keeping a toad as a pet which I hadn't fully realized before hand was feeding it.

We were pretty sure toads eat crickets, so my boyfriend at the time went out that first night and caught half-a-dozen little crickets, thinking that would hold Verdi over for a few days. We put the crickets in the temporary toad-home shoe box along with a pile of grass and a small bowl of water, made sure it had ventilation, and that he couldn't jump out of it during the night.

The next morning, ALL of the crickets were gone, and I found myself looking at very fat toad.

So then I had the realization that I would need a habitat for Verdi AND a habitat for Verdi's food if I planned on having more than a day's supply of crickets on hand at any time.

Luckily, as I wasn't exactly the sort to be inclined to catch crickets every night, pet stores totally sold them by the bag along with cricket food.

Originally I had gotten the super cheap little mix stuff (cricket kibble, for all intensive purposes) and just put in a little soda bottle cap of water for the insects (as I hadn't really intended on keeping bugs for pets), but crickets are really stupid creatures and kept drowning themselves in their little water dish, and I wasn't a big fan of needing to clean up drowned crickets, so I had to upgrade to the orange goo (think jello) that worked as BOTH food and water for them.

However, it also meant I had to listen to crickets chirp every. single. night in their little cricket catcher.

Verdi was the most docile hopping creature I have ever seen, and was content to be held, never croaked, and didn't even try to get away even when I'd let him hop around the room (supervised, of course). 

The only trouble with Verdi's habitat itself was that it was challenging to find a dish that was big enough for him to swim in that was also easily accessible for the little guy (I don't think he had been the best hopper on the hilltop in the first place). And then one time he left his skin floating in it.... that was both fascinating and just a little bit creepy.

And now, I rather wish we lived in a place that would allow for natural toad finding with my children so we could maybe keep one for a week or two for them to learn about these fascinating little creatures without me needing to commit to cricket-feeding something for years and years.

Plus whenever I let Kristina look at that section of the pet store she always wants a tarantula or one of those dragon lizards that eat mice.

And I am NOT keeping pet mice to feed to a pet lizard.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Muddy Spring

Spring in the mountains of Colorado isn't like other places. 

Spring isn't flowers blooming

Spring isn't buds opening up on the trees.

Spring isn't cute little forest animals twittering around in song.

Spring isn't even cute little sun dresses and new white leather sandals.

No no, Spring is simply and completely summed up in one small word for us.


Mud mud and more mud.

With perhaps, a little snow thrown in for good measure.

Although it is important to note that despite today being noticeably colder than last week when these pictures were taken  (Adrianna had an ear infection, which is why she was in her jammies outside in the middle of the afternoon, and Kristina had just come from the fairy princess birthday party which should fully explain her attire), it didn't snow.

Which is kind of a big deal for us.

Since there are MANY first days of spring for us that come complete with half a foot of fresh snow.

Don't worry though, I have a feeling Nature is just saving it up for celebrating the 4th of July this year.

You might think I'm kidding about it snowing then. I'm totally not. It happens every 5 or 10 years that you get to watch snowflakes fall and fireworks burst at the same time. Because Colorado does that.

Welcome mud Spring!

Monday, March 19, 2012

The Red Eye Reveal

I spent my lunch break today running over to the Optometrists office for an official medical evaluation of my red crusty eyes.

I'm sure you have all been on the edge of your seats wondering about it and whether or not I'd wear glasses long enough to merit buying one of those "geek is the new sexy" shirts in defense of my slightly unwilling fashion statement.

And the appointment was certainly informative!

....Or something like that...... 

First up, for all the coworkers who keep asking me this, I do NOT have a generic "pink eye" infection!

However, I DO still have an actual eye infection, but whether it's bacterial or viral is undetermined at this time.

I also have eye irritation from allergies, probably of the seasonal hay fever variety.

Oh, and my glasses are a horribly outdated prescription and I totally should not be driving in them.

(I may or may not have been annoyed at myself for not calling into work a few of the past days under the guise of "I'm not allowed to drive because I can't see and therefore I can't come in today".) 

So the very nice Optometrist lady, Dr. Potter, gave me some drops to put in my eyes 4 times a day which are a combination antibiotic, in case it's a bacterial infection, and steroid, to decrease their general red puffy state.

And I'm to take regular hay fever allergy medicine as well, just to try and help decrease as much of this misery as possible.

Sadly, if it turns out to be a viral infection there isn't a whole lot that can be done besides waiting for it to run it's course, just like any other virus that takes up residency.

(See also: Why strep is better than the flu.) 

I also have a follow up visit scheduled for Thursday morning.

Which also means the office gets to meet my 2-year-old.

I'm not sure whether I should be terrified or delusional about how things will go.  Either way, I'm sure it fall under the delightfully broad category of "interesting".

However, when I was making the appointment I did mention the child-accompanying-me aspect which that day would require and as the receptionist only asked what time would be best for her schedule and didn't start twitching or run away screaming or act like I was absolutely nuts for saying that, I'm going to assume it's a pretty laid back office that has probably seen small children inside of it before.

Actually, I wasn't THAT much older than Kristina is when I started going there for annual eye exams, and I know there were a few moments of possibly questionable behavior over the years that nobody got overly cross at me for.

(What can I say, I had a low tolerance for mildly uncomfortable eye drops and liked to be overly dramatic about such things.)

(I was also a big fan of spinny chairs.)


However, the one part of these visits that is bad is the cost. See, right now we're in the exact middle of that 6 week chunk between the divorce being finalized and my gaining eligibility for Target's health insurance plan, so I'm paying for the visits out of pocket.

And even though the Optometrist was wonderful and  got me some sample drops to save the cost of a prescription, the office fees just aren't cheap.

Bad eyes, didn't you know this was the wrong month to have issues??

Oh well, at least it'll serve to make me very happy about that particular deduction from my paycheck starting up soon.

In the mean time, I think I'm going to find a warm washcloth go drape over my face and pretend I'm a famous film star being pampered with a special skin enhancing treatment instead of just a crabby girl with sore itchy eyes.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

The Faulty Marty Needs a Man Hypothesis

I've been feeling very run down the last 3 or 4 days, just very tired (despite going to bed at fairly ridiculously early times every night) and physically achy.

Oh, and my eyes decided to get all possessed or something and have been very red and irritated for still unknown reasons as well, but let me tell you, there's nothing like a religious contact wearer being forced to wear glasses to improve her crummy mood.

AND I've been working every single day of my feeling worn out period. And not just generic working, but with opening shifts, which means I've had my alarm clock going off at 5:30 every morning.

(Have I mentioned how in the alternate reality where my opinion on such things matters mornings simply would not begin until after 7 every day?)

So, I haven't been in my most cheerful of cheerful moods at work the past few days.

And my coworkers have been picking up on it.

(Me making comments of "ugh... fuck life" may or may not have contributed to their brilliant deduction of me subtly being less than ecstatically happy.) 

Yesterday a couple of the slightly older gals, whom I would guess to be in the late 30s to early 40s range, except that I'm notably bad at guessing people's ages so we'll just pin point it to older than me and younger than my parents, decided that what I needed to feel better was a man.

I think my response was to grunt, but I'm not really sure. Apparently a side effect of being really out of it is you only remember these things vaguely because you were really out of it at the time they happened.

However, I'm pretty sure that because I was really out of it I didn't have any great smart-ass comebacks to throw out (or even bitter ex-wife material), and therefore did not come anywhere near a reasonable discussion of this topic.

And just for the record, my present writing of this blog post is delaying a shower and sleep for me, both of which I want more than my firstborn child right now, so it's probably going to be a very abbreviated analysis of the whole questionable man needing situation and may still not be a reasonable discussion of this topic.


Somewhere along the line in the last 36 hours my brain kinda sorta almost turned on enough to go "hey, I don't agree with that" and to feel mildly insulted by the insinuation of me needing a man.

Admittedly, I am a little bitter still about how the whole marriage/fatherhood thing went for me/my children the first time around whether I want to be or not.

I probably need to reach a cathartic inner state of actually forgiving Peter for being an asshole before I can fully let go of the feelings of resentment.

But I'm just not there quite yet. And I think that's ok. Five years from now? That'll be waaaaay past the time to move on. But our official divorce wasn't even a full month ago. I'm allowed to harbor "you're an asshole" feelings a little longer before I have to be a bigger person and just let that shit go.

(Fun Marty fact: she can hold a grudge like nobody's business!)

But that only slightly questionable bitterness that I'm still feeling makes me very cynical of the idea of getting another man, because I immediately think of all Peter's worst attributes and then want to declare I'm perfectly happy not needing to clean up a 4th person's dirty underwear on a daily basis thankyouverymuch.

I think why, so he can sit around and play video games all day? Or tell me he'll take out the garbage and then ALWAYS forget to?

Or so I can feel constantly disappointed by him not providing me the emotional support and loving life fulfillment I expect of my husband?

(I told you I was still bitter.)

But there's still that teeny tiny little part of me (this is where that "just let it go" will eventually come from) that knows that's not entirely fair. Not to Peter. Not to potential male interests. Not to me.

But really acknowledging that part means admitting fear.

So we'll just move right on to the other part of why Marty doesn't need a man, which actually has nothing at all to do with her first marriage, but everything to do with her fierce sense of independence.

I was stubbornly independent as a child, stupidly independent as a teenager, and foolishly independent as a young adult.

I do NOT like needing anybody for any reason, because I am absolutely convinced that I can do anything all by myself if I so choose.

Including this whole life thing.

I don't NEED a man to live life. I don't NEED a man to have a good life. I don't NEED a man to have a successful life. And I most certainly don't NEED a man to raise two amazing children.

And so far in my life having that inner determination has been absolutely crucial to survival.

If I had NEEDED Peter, everything would have fallen completely apart every time he was gone. I had to be able to handle it (all of it) on my own, whether I wanted to or not. 

Although I must admit, every so often that defensive wall of self-reliance lets through a teeny tiny crack of the idea that just perhaps there might be a situation where things might be better because of being able to rely on someone else in the significant other sphere.

But I'm pretty good at ignoring that idea.

And there you have it, why Marty does NOT need a man.

Even when she's grumpy.

(Why don't they ever look at me and say "Marty needs cupcakes!" or "Marty needs a raise!"?? The whole idea of needing a man is just degrading and sexist. Seriously. Give me fucking cupcakes next time people, I'll go find a man when I damn well feel like it.)

Littlest (Fairy) Cowgirl

Adrianna is two.

Which is not a pleasant age.

It means things happen like phone calls from her (pre)preschool program director wanting to discuss incidents of her screaming inconsolably for over an hour at nap time.



She does still manage to have moments of exceptional cuteness. These are best to be captured on camera, and looked at during those times when you start wondering whether she's still small enough to fit in the barbeque.

This is one of my new all-time favorites of her. The wings, the boots, the bow... it's so incredibly (and adorably) Adrianna.

Also, see how she's smiling sweetly? And not screaming and/or throwing things at me? Yeah, that part's really swell too.

Now if you excuse me, I think I'll spend another quick moment gazing at that precious little angel in the picture before I go put the little demon back into her sleeper for the third time tonight and plead a little more for her to PLEASE stop banging her one-legged babydoll against the wall (guess what she did to break off it's other leg!) and just go to ever-loving sleep. 

Saturday, March 17, 2012

The Leprechauns Strike Again

Kristina's preschool is a unique place for her to be.

I have worked in half a dozen (including this one), sent my children to childcare facilities in 3 different states, and observed countless more over the years.

And I have yet to come across a place quite like Over the Rainbow.

One of the things that I have never seen anywhere else is what the teachers do for St. Patrick's day.

Every year the leprechauns break into the school overnight a few days before the holiday itself.

They leave green footprints on the tables, the windows and doors, even the sidewalk out outside.

Gold nuggets are hidden on the playground, and Hershy kisses are stashed all over the classroom for the kids to find throughout the day.

Last year the sneaky little guys made the toilet water green. This year they strung toilet paper all over the entire bathroom.

Toys are dumped out, chairs are knocked over, and those little green footprints are on every easily washable surface you see.

(They certainly are a considerate mayhem creating bunch, those sneaky leprechauns.)

And very sadly, I have yet to manage to get a picture of it.

Because it is so creative, so unique, and such a big hit with the children that it truly deserves to be immortalized on the internet.

Happy St. Patrick's day, for all those of you from good Irish stock like myself and even those who aren't!

Friday, March 16, 2012

Not all Birthday Parties are Created Equal

This upcoming Saturday will be the first that Kristina does not have a birthday party to attend in the last month.

(Apparently May is a popular month to play... um... "checkers"....... here in Colorado.)

And the one we went to last weekend definitely took the cake for fancy preschool parties.

No really, it had a frilly pink cake that probably cost more than my wedding cake did and a wow factor previously unseen off of shows like Cake Boss. 

The bottom pedestal part was layers upon layers (I suppose some might have stopped to count the exact number before eating. But those some would not have been me or Kristina. So I'll just guess somewhere between 7 and 12 for the exacting mathematical ones of you (HI Rachel!!)) of strawberry cake intermixed with awesomely rich frosting. The skirt part was the same incredible layers of cake, but of a white looking variety (as I didn't have more than one slice, I couldn't tell you for sure what the cake was other than not strawberry, chocolate, or red velvet) and the fondant was all lacy patterened and stuff (can you tell how much I care about the finer details of cake decoration?) and the torso of the little princess fairy (styled after the birthday girl no less) was made out of modeling chocolate.

I'm REALLY hoping Kristina will have forgotten about this particular pink cake awesome monstrosity by August. Because I was totally digging her $16 King Supers pink cake from her last birthday, and was rather hoping I could, perhaps, get away with that every year.

See? A perfectly pink table spread, if I do say so myself. And my instructions for the cake decoration were (and I quote): "Make it PINK. And maybe with some flowers or something...??" The Bakery Team totally delivered! They even spelled her name exactly as I put it on the order form and everything!

And the cake itself... ok, it was just a generic sheet cake with some pinkly sprayed frosting, but it tasted like sufficiently sugary cake! What more do kids expect? They're just going to gobble it up and demand seconds anyways, cake quality is totally lost on the preschool crowd.

But it wasn't just the cake that made me feel as though my idea of a good birthday party for my child was lacking.

There was bejewled face painting.

There were fairy wings and crowns to decorate.

The birthday girl's mama had even made 30 tutus for all the little party guests to wear and bring home as favors.

Of course, Kristina's favorite parts were (in order): the tutu, the pink balloons, and running up and down the Nederland Community Center hallway with her friends.

You know, I could probably make sure her next birthday party contained those things. After all, the success of a child's party should totally depend on how happy it made the birthday child. And if all Kristina really needs to be in 7th heaven are her friends to run around with, some helium filled pink balloons, and a special fancy tutu, I can totally make that happen.

Please just don't remember about the fancy cake sweetheart, Mommy balks at paying that type of cash for something that's just going to be eaten right up.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Another Letter to Target Shoppers

Dear Target Shoppers,

We are so glad you still enjoy coming to our store!


Please, can we review a few more things before I, as a Target employee, start muttering obscenities alluding to you having a less than average level of intelligence?

First up, Target Online is NOT the same as Target the Store. I'm sorry this makes you annoyed, but it's just not. There are things in the store which you cannot order online and there are things online which you cannot buy from the store. And that is simply how it is.

Please (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE) don't get mad at me when YOU screw this detail up.

I have a screen shot here of a random product (ok ok, I was totally browsing kids bedding options because I may or may not have found another house I want to buy and may or may not have felt the need to decorate said future potential house with adorable pink and purple rooms for my children. But those are irrelevant details to this particular blog post!) from the Target website. Presumably your view of would look exactly the same as this.

Now it is kind of hard to see from that picture (presumably your browser would be up bigger than a picture of my browser put into a blog), so let me just zoom in on the important part for you.

Do you see it yet? It's that little text just to the right of the "add to cart" red button.... here, let me just make it REALLY clear for you.

I know it's small, and you have to know to check if it's there, but still, it's RIGHT there people! This means that you cannot come into the Target store tomorrow and get all irate at lowly little employees like me over the fact that we don't have this particular exceptionally awesome product you saw online.

(Well, you can, but you totally shouldn't.)

Because Target Online is DIFFERENT from Target the Store!! 

Similarly, coming into the store to complain to me that you had wanted to order some of these awesome towels you saw last month only to find out that they were an in-stores only item which has since sold out is not fair to me.

I'm sorry your life doesn't always work as perfectly as you would like, but really, I have NO control what-so-ever about ANY of the things you are presently upset over.

And frankly, I don't give a damn.

Yes, I care that your shopping experience with the company hasn't been as fulfilling as you had expected. But as far as those towels go? Just go over to those 4 aisles of towels right over there and pick out some other ones and stop being cranky at me for your life being so small and stupid that the towels are actually that important to you.

And then go spend a weekend at a soup kitchen and try to gain a little perspective about your spoiled little towel-loving life.

Oh, and I know I mentioned it before, but it stands to be reiterated:  Please use a trash can for your Starbucks cups. Obviously you are competent enough to have income sufficient to buy overpriced coffee and the mental capacity to place an order, you should be capable of disposing of your cup in a trash can when you're done.

Also, the Starbucks employees would prefer if you did not make them wash off your reusable lids. You know, in case you were feeling exceptionally considerate of others in the service industry and a smidgen self-reliant one day.


Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Happy Steak and BJ Day

Why yes, there IS a new holiday in town: Steak and Blowjob Day.

Apparently it's a counter measure of Valentine's Day started by the male folk of the internet after feeling that it was a holiday unfairly slanted towards women.

Personally, I'd rather see Valentine's Day go away than establish another pointless day to feel obligated to celebrate to balance unfairness.

Plus this holiday has a pretty vulgar name (and like, can you imagine Hallmark trying to make a pg rated card to sell??)

However, at least the name's crudeness makes it VERY clear as to what, exactly, is expected of the holiday, while Valentine's Day is still a little sketchy beyond the generic bestowing onto the girl of roses and chocolate.

(For the record, I'm a big fan of chocolate. Oh, and roses are pretty nice too. You know, in case anyone felt like some bestowing.)

((Also, beer.))

Any thoughts on the matter?

Monday, March 12, 2012

The Finale of Divorce

In true Marty fashion, I have avoided talking about much of the divorce right on through the part where I actually got it.

So, here is the recap for everyone.

The non-contested hearing was several weeks ago.

The Magistrate (aka Judge) was a very nice woman who almost managed to take away the intimidation factor of me being by myself in that court room with her through her kind nature.

Peter called in for the hearing as he is in Texas for the Army and Colorado courts are fairly lenient with court appearances for out-of-state parties.

The entire hearing consisted of the Magistrate reading through our two main documents, the separation agreement and the parenting plan, confirming as a recorded sworn statement that we both understood what was being said and agreed to it, and then signing a fairly unimpressive two page piece of paper as our divorce decree.

A half hour was scheduled on the court docket for it, in actuality it took just a few minutes longer than that.

And I only almost cried right at the end when she was reading the official decree of dissolution of marriage.

There was no celebration. There was no cake. There were no cheers from supporting family and friends.

There wasn't even an open bar to promptly go get wasted at. 

But see, maybe that's a part where I was wrong, and that divorce should also have a few aspects more like a marriage. Because simply being handed a plane piece of paper while sitting alone on a hard wooden bench to recognize an equally life changing stage being reached is more than a little lame.

I changed my name back to it's maiden form, so now my bank account and credit card are correct while my blog and email are wrong (why yes, I had been married for years and never gotten around to changing everything over). Interestingly enough, I had originally thought to keep Heller, as I didn't have a particularly strong attachment to Whalen in the first place and rather liked matching my children (and like, my blog web address......), but then Peter was a dumbass and managed to piss me off a bunch, and that made me a little less fond of having anything what-so-ever to do with him.

But moving right along....

I have already gotten my name changed with the social security office and made one attempt at getting a new drivers license which was then abandoned that day due to my unwillingness to wait AT LEAST 2 hours (as quoted by the divers license people) for it right then. I have also submitted the name change paperwork to Target, but need to follow up with it as it still hasn't gone through in the system and I can't believe that it would take longer to process in a cooperation than it did for the government.

However, in comically bad Marty life style, Peter hasn't gone out of the picture as much as one (ok, that one is probably just me) might have hoped.

Ironically, AFTER getting the divorce and giving full and complete custody of his children to me, Peter decided he wanted to be a more involved father (you know, compared to the 10 previous months where he didn't want see them and spoke to Kristina on the phone at best once every month or two) and started calling several times a week AND made plans to come see the girls next month.

And then immediately told Kristina about his future visiting, which isn't the approach I would have used because first off his plan was for over a month out and Kristina can barely handle waiting for tomorrow for things, and second, things can come up and should he not be able to make it out after all or have to push it farther back I didn't want to have to deal with more Daddy disappointment in that child.

(Trust me, we've had a lot of it already, and it really sucks.)

But as he was on the phone with her, he got to tell her whatever he wanted to about it without me running intervention.

(Talk about motivation to keep up regular phone calls!) 

So there you have it. I am officially divorced after 4 and half years of being a military wife, a year and a half after deciding the marriage was done with, 14 months after moving in with my parents, and 8 months after filing the official paperwork with the state of Colorado.

(I had to live in the state for 6 months prior to filing to have the girls be counted as residents, in case anyone was particularly interested as to why there was that gap there.)

And at least for today I'm feeling one misguided marriage in my clueless 20s (please don't tell me if I'll still be as clueless in my 30s, the hope of not being so is the only thing making me look forward to the aging process) really just might be enough for me this life time.

Void where prohibited by law.

Heroic Coworker

Remember my post last week about my coworker Adam adoring my blog?

Well, the question of cyber-stalking aside, he was flattered by it.

...... and then promptly said that he was surprised I didn't mention anything about him, like, doing heroic stuff at Target.

Oh. Right. Heroic stuff.
So in his free time when he isn't working at Target, Adam is a volunteer with the Boulder Rural Fire Department, which means in addition to getting to pose for sexy firefighter calenders also means he gets all sorts of paramedic and first responder training.

And once the Executives found out about this particular set of skills, they now page him by name over the walkies when there is a medical concern or Code Green (injury) called out.

Don't worry though, I get paged by name to answer questions about diapers, so Target is making great use of all it's employees specialized extracurricular interests.

(Do you know a lot about vacuums? Please come work at Target, and save me the trouble of pretending like I know anything about vacuums.)

However, the aspect of Adam that I personally find genuinely heroic isn't that he gingerly gives popcorn and soda to the fainting cashiers, but rather that he's been actively pursuing the career he wants and went to school for and dreams of having the entire time he's been working at Target.

(You know, especially when compared to my total contentment for just settling with a crummy job and life.)

So in tribute to his aspirations, I asked the husband of a good friend of mine from college to photograph a reenactment of Adam's dream job, which he will hopefully get very very soon.

A very special thanks to Brian McMillan for doing the truly wonderful Lego project for me, and allowing for the artistic vision of building the future from the childhood dreams to become a reality just for my silly little blog.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Like Mother, Like Daughter: Sweet Tooth Bakers

I am not a  big cooking person.

I like to eat food, and understand the correlation between cooking food and eating it, and certainly find myself in the kitchen for that very purpose at least occasionally and sometimes even manage to create surprisingly good things in there.

But there is one sort of food I ENJOY making: Sweets.

I could make chocolate chip cookies with a blindfold on, and think that brownies are the easiest thing in the world to whip up real quick.

I will be ambitious with cake, and find discussion over fudge and how the ratio of marshmallow to chocolate changes the consistency of the end product genuinely engaging.

Now, I could attempt to justify this particular cooking prefeance into the lofty ideal of being a baker or simply having a better understanding of how flour works in the oven instead of pork ribs.

But really, it's just because I LIKE sweets. I'd rather eat brownies than breaded veal cutlets, so I make brownies and order a pizza (and call it a fine, fine dinner).

And my little girls have learned that all the best cooks in the world specialize on the good stuff to eat.  

Kristina was adorable baking her cookies, and talking about needing to put on her oven mitt because they were hot and then holding the tray with her un-mitted hand.

[Side note: see the kitchen behind her? We were just handed down that kitchen from a family friend, and the BEST feature of it is that the oven is big enough to accommodate the cookie tray, as the little play kitchen we have had (see behind Adrianna in the picture below) was too small for the cookie set (ironically, much like Mommy's oven in Oklahoma.... which led to the discovery that no, you cannot bake cookies on a slant......... *ahem*) so Kristina has been ALL about the cookies the last little bit.]

And not to be outdone, Adrianna set about making some delicious cupcakes as well. See that cupcake in her left hand? It had a tag on it back when I got the set for Kristina, and when she was right about Adrianna's age she thought the tag should be cut off. So she did. And then I was the ashamed Mommy who only knows how to fix things with glue and staples, even when they're fabric. But for the record, it's 2 years later and that glue is still going strong.

And then the girls packed up their goodies and tea set and went on a picnic to their bedroom, I mean, the jungle.

Because really, what better thing to do with fresh cookies than serve them at a tea party with a tiger?

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Bookly Ranting

I obtained the recently released 5th book in the Song of Fire of Ice series (aka Game of Thrones series) by George R. R. Martin this past summer and quickly dived into the large novel. However, it had been a few years (and pregnancies) since I had read the previous four and my memory of some of the finer nuances of the very complex plot were a bit fuzzy.

So I promptly set about rereading the whole massive series from the beginning.

A friend of mine from college posted on facebook that she had just completed the second book in that very same Game of Thrones series, and needed a break from the rape and gore and asked for reading recommendations.

I fully understand the sentiment she expressed, as I have been alternating Game of Throne novels with other ones like The Help and the Wicked series specifically to avoid that very burn out from trying to read all of them right at once.

The novels are good, but they are DEEP and complex and do have large of amounts of very detailed and bloody battle in places. I wanted to tell her that the second one was particularly bad on the rape-and-gore scale and the following ones were a little less dark, from what I vaguely remember of how they broke up individually, but as I'm only in the middle of rereading the second myself I wasn't positive about this and refrained from saying such.

However, I found one of the recommendations of someone else on that thread VERY interesting.

Someone else recommended the Tortal books by Tamera Pierce, with the full disclosure of them being young adult and also including some slight gore.

First off, yes they may be categorized as "young adult" in the book store, but I read the first set (The Song of the Lioness is it's technical name, although it's often called The Lioness Quartet, and each of the subsequent series set in the same Tortal fantasy land has it's own name as well) when I was 10 (which is also the recommended age) and although I fully agree that they are good, they are most definitely juvenile literature.

However, I will say that a few of the more newly released novels are at a higher level of writing (and the author even mentions this specifically and references the popularity of Harry Potter showing her that kids will read big hard books directly influenced it), and that there just might be one I haven't read yet called Mastiff should anyone feel like spoiling me a little....

Second, they were VERY age appropriate for me to read when I was 10. The "gore" in them is comically G rated and sex is at most subtly alluded to, even in the more recent ones. They are not gory books. They are sweet happy easy reads, especially when compared to George Martin's epic world. 

Obviously, the person recommending it had never SEEN a book from the Game of Thrones series, much less read any of it, and just so had the poor fortune to recommend an author and series I'm equally familiar with and fond of.

And you poor readers have the even greater misfortune of getting to suffer through every random pet peevy rant I happen to have within a short distance of a computer. Sorry about that.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

7 Seconds to Prove why Ponies are Awesome

I have *really* been digging the newest My Little Pony show (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magical) recently. I only started watching it a month or so back, when my father decided to upgrade my basement cable to include a recordable DVR system (thank you Daddy!!) and I subsequently realized that we already got the hub network (channel which the show is on (and yes, I knew what cable network had the show without ever watching it)) and decided to record a few episodes for the girls. 

Ok ok, it was partially for me too.....

FINE! Like, 75% for me, 25% for them.

But see, I totally become awesome Mommy when we watch it because instead of playing on my computer for the brief time I don't have to spend fetching them snacks and drinks and toys while they watch tv, I sit down on the couch and actually WATCH it snuggled up between them.

Once upon a time in my early parenting career I actually tried to always watch tv with Kristina so I wouldn't be using it as a horrible child-neglecting device.

And then I learned two things:

1) I will never ever get ANYTHING done in the house (including the true basics like getting myself dressed and brushing my teeth) without the occasional spot of television.

2) Most children's television is nearly as bad as watching Rebuplican primary debates as far as how much it makes me want to cause a self inflicted sippy cup injury just so I have an excuse to get up and leave the room.

(Incidentally, that is why I like to put on movies more than shows, because Shrek and Toy Story are 10,000 times better than anything that teaches the alphabet non-stop even after watching them 10,000 times.)

And poor Adrianna, as the second child I avoid watching shows with her like the plague....

But the newest My Little Pony awesomeness is greatly enjoyed by all in our little pony loving family, and I have the perfect 7 second clip to show you why.

Pinkie Pie: I'm not giving him cake, I'm assaulting him with cake! 

Yep. Awesome show. Awesome family time. Awesome ponies. 

Find the Baby!

I had been brushing Kristina's hair a few mornings back, when I came out of the bathroom to find this.

You see, that would have been a basket of the girls' clean laundry which had been washed the evening before and not put away yet (something about their dressers being in the room in which they were sleeping right then.....) that somehow just found their way all over the floor during the 5 minutes I was otherwise occupied.

But what's this? Why, it looks like the laundry monster might still be there...

This was way better than the dumping puzzles incident from the morning prior, but still, how long until she's not 2 anymore??

Monday, March 5, 2012

Life's a Song (or at least a verse)

Sometimes you don't need all the versus in life, you just need the conviction to keep singing the half-a-one you DO know over and over (and over....) again.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Sucker Blog

Alright. I'm a total sucker for people who like my blog.

As I see it, there are two levels of dedicated readers.

There are the very wonderful fellow blogger ones who read my blog daily and leave lots of wonderful comments, and these are the ones whom I start to feel like I really know as people. I also read many of the blogs THEY keep as well, which really adds to the whole touchy feely building relations thing.

(And whom I promise I'll get to blogging about SOON!)

And then there are those whom I know read my blog on a daily basis because they tell me they do despite never leaving a comment. Most of the people in this category are people I know in real life. My parents fall into this category, as does my ex husband.

However, there have been some recent new arrivals to this list, including some people I went to school with back in the day (who then do things like email me telling me how much they love it (HI JUSTIN!! HI AMANDA!!)) and even *gulp* some of my current coworkers......

The coworkers make me just a little bit nervous.

And like, even for reasons beyond me blogging about doing random things like stealing cupcakes from the trash at Target that may or may not actually be something that could get in trouble.

See, this blog is so incredibly ME, and what if they don't like ME???

The amount of ME I show at work varies, some days are just the sort where I need a little more of a buffer between ME and the rest of the world, and which specific people I show ME to is something I like having discretion over.

However, that also means that I end up having conversations like the one I had last week where a coworker found out that A) I was 26 and "old" as he put it, B) divorced, and C) had children. And he is one of the coworkers who I'd actually categorize as a friend!

How could I possibly have worked with him for 8 months and never mentioned any personal detail what-so-ever??

Well, some days I guess I don't like being personal......

So you can see how coworkers finding and reading my blog might make me ever so slightly apprehensive. But then, they do things like tell me they've started checking it every day and think it's awesome and really impressive.

(It's really hard to not like hearing that from anyone.)

And then they ask me why I haven't mentioned them in it.

So Adam, this blog post is for you. For being an awesome coworker, and reading it, and regularly telling me how awesome you think my blogging is :-)

However, the only thing I can think of to mention about you right now is the conversation we had yesterday.

Adam: Hey, how'd you know I like country music? [in reference to me posting  a link on his facebook page the day prior about Toby Keith]
Me: ....Um, you told me about going to that Brad Paisley concert a few months ago, remember?
Adam: Oh. Yeah. 
Me. I mean, I guess I was just kinda inferring that you liked country music as a genre from you talking about how awesome the Brad Paisley concert was... 
Adam: Haha, so you weren't stalking me?
Me: No. 

But now I'm totally blogging about him. Which is kinda like the stalker thing but in reverse. 

And now you all know one of the best ways to make it into my blog, exceptional flattery.

For as I said, I am a true sucker for people saying "I like your blog" because it translates to "I like YOU and I like what you DO".

And those are things I haven't heard a whole lot in my adult life, but give me an instant sense of self-validation, which is really really cool.

A Dead Body in the Hallway

The scene:

A small liberal arts college, laid back coed dorm building, 2nd floor hallway.

The find:

A 1930s Hollywood era "dead body". 

The crime:

College students, masking tape, and mild defacing of private property.

The punishment:

Differed on account of the cleaning crews' awesome sense of humor.

Friday, March 2, 2012

A Small Note of Life

It's been a tiring week. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I have lots of ideas for blog posts bouncing around, but really just need to take a hot bath and go to bed tonight. Sorry. I have every intention of getting back in the grove of actually writing something blog-worthy for next week.

In very random and unimportant to anyone not living inside my head news, that big yellow house I really liked in Nederland is back as an active listing and no longer under contract. I'm kinda suspecting it just might be a cruel joke by the powers that be [see chart below to pick your aforementioned powers] to test whether I'm crazy enough to actually think I could buy something clearly listed as a fixer-upper by myself. Obviously I may have a few delusions of my personal grander and ability to use hammers, as I sit here and stare at those pictures of the run down place thinking "oh yes, I could easily fix that".

However, I'm quite certain attempting to own such a place would provide PLENTY of excellent blogging material, so it would (probably) be totally worth it in the end.

I think....

And just to make sure this blog post is especially lost to Martyland thought process, I came across this in the internets a little while back and think it's just excellent. Enjoy!

Click me to make me bigger!!

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Pink Sneakers FTW

 I bought pink Converse sneakers. They were on clearance. They are totally awesome.

That is all.