We found it!

Today a group of us went to Sheri's house to watch two movies. We watched one I have not seen (Finding Nemo) and one Sheri had not seen (Fried Green Tomatoes). It was fun but the weather was bad. We found the storm. It was here the entire time. Everyone's phone kept going off because their husbands were looking for them and people were nervous about a tornado. I was like well there is not much we can do about it from here. I completely understand people being worried about their kids though. It is a frightening thing when you are across the metroplex and your kid is in an unsure situation. We were within miles of Amanda but I know when it comes to tornadoes it does not really matter all that much. We all made it back home safe and sound and for that I am grateful.

The holidays have been great. It was a bumpy start because I (Renee') got sick the weekend prior. Actually, Amanda and I both got sick. Andi was wonderful about it though. She took such good care of us. We were quite pathetic looking. I believe she actually took a picture of it and maybe she will upload it at some point. I even missed Sue's Christmas party.

We got thru that though and then we had a crazy week of shopping. Sheri and I shopped during several lunch hours. Char and Jules joined us as well. It was fun though. I generally enjoy shopping.

We had our Christmas Eve with Mander on Sat. We kicked it off with brunch at Sue's to make up for the missed party. It was a really nice visit. Ok am I old now that I say things like "it was a really nice visit?" I think the troublesome word there is visit. Anyways, we came home after that just so Mander could get in trouble. Ok, so that was not actually why we came home but it sure feels like it. We dealt with that issue and moved forward with our holiday. We went to La Bella, oh yeah, and then drove around to look at lights. We did not see any thrilling lights but it was still fun. After that we opened a couple of gifts and watched a movie.

We got up Sunday morning and opened gifts. It was a great time. Andi took pictures of that as well. We all got some great gifts. Amanda got a cell phone, clothes, a bike and other random items. I got an amazing watch. It is truly beautiful. Andi got a paper making kit, books and a couple of blouses. We tooled around for a bit and then went to the neighbors for snacks. Before going to the neighbors Andi put a couple of rock cornish game hens in the oven. We came home and had a nice candle light dinner before heading her to meet her father.

Christmas morning Andi did some baking and I cleaned up a bit. That afternoon we went to Christi's apartment to hang out with Amanda and family. It was a great time. I am the winner of the poker game. Good times! The food there was amazing and I managed to wear a lot of it home. We also went to visit Brenda for a bit.

It was a wonderful holiday.

Yes, we have one or two bananas.

You may be aware that we are getting married. We are lassoing one another into the yoke of life, and we'll pull together toward a common goal. Every once in a while we'll let one another slip out of the harness so that we can stretch, and regain our footing. An example? R did all the laundry over the weekend and hung tons of clothes that were packed. I hate this job. She gifted me, bless her.

There's a lot of stress right now. Silly people, we decided to have a commitment ceremony a month directly following a move into a new old house. Actually the house was the easier of the two to arrange. I have some angst about the wedding. I know that it will be hard for some people to deal with: some will attend joyfully, some will attend reluctantly, and some won't attend at all. Some people that I care deeply about will have reservations and won't be able to overcome their own personal "ick" factor. For others it will be about religious reasons. There are wonderful people in our lives that we wouldn't trade for anything, and if they just can't go, they can't go. They will be missed, but I'd rather have them be comfortable at home, than uncomfortable at our Big Event. I'd never realized how special and important it makes the betrothed feel to have all these amazing people celebrate with you on that day. I'm more worried about R than for myself - not that she's fragile - she has a tough core - but she's had people drop out of her life the last few years when they saw fit to judge her for her choices.

Am I a culprit? Yes. I'm a different person now than I was 10, 5, 2 years ago. I spent a lot of time nursing my own "ick" factor, judging and winnowing people that I didn't want anything to do with. Even now, I don't spend any time at all loving people that I have deemed unworthy. I'm reading the news right now, and it makes my blood boil. Where's my brotherly love? Where's my forgiveness? How do I forgive child molesters, family killers, complete ruined shells that have only the power to take from others? Can't I pass that job onto God? He's got it in Him, right, not me. I'm small and hard and set and I have a job and a family to protect, and how am I supposed to find time to pray for criminals? And so the question is - what if I don't? What if the whole world stops praying for the undeserving? Is that what's happening? We've all sequestered ourselves into these groups of "I'm ok, you're not ok" and we go along in life, and just keep separating, moving away, and the weak drop off, and usually take innocence with them.

Do any of us deserve grace? Well, no. Not from the Lord, and maybe not from each other. Maybe it remains a gift. There's a lot of back and forth about the world, and what God wants from us, and how we should behave. Everyone has their own agenda, their own interpretations, and I suppose I do as well. For all of my mistakes in life, and my hopes, failures, joys, I pray that I am always grateful.

Regardless, I choose love. So whoever you are, reading this, thank God for you.

I'm wearing a jester hat.

It has bells on it.

I'm grateful for my life and all the wonderful people in it.

So much to say

But this photo really should say it all for us. Courtesy of cuteoverload.com

Stuffies, stuff and fluff

Amanda starts school on August 14. She's in 6th grade now, which is amazing. We were playing with her stuffed animals before bed tonight and I recognized so many that had been given to her over the years.

Priscilla, a white fluffy rabbit given to her around Easter from a shop in Granbury while I was on a ladies' retreat. I think she was 5.

Sully, that Monsters Inc. dude. Not very cuddly but very charming. An estranged friend gave that one to her.

Dory, a fish given to her by her uncle-in-law Gerry for her 9th birthday.

Lou, a Jack Russell terrier I gave her one Christmas. Named after her dad's nickname.

Thunderjam, Big J, Little E, Dove (a bear) and Bird (a donkey), and countless others of all shapes and sizes. There is even one in her collection, a small rainbow dinosaur, that I bought from a thrift store my first year in college. I saved it from a recent garage sale. It doesn't have a name. It's just jolly.

And Hartsy, so named for his paws around a big red heart. He's a bear I'd bought her from Walmart for Valentine's Day a long time ago. He's the most popular bear around, and I imagine if she had to save only one from her collection, he would be The Chosen.

The three of us did some school supplies shopping at Target tonight. We figured incorrectly when we totted up how many supplies she already had and we could just fill in the rest. It was still a lot of money. But we bought a lunchbox so cool that all three of us almost got one. Amazingly, Renee' said no, and she rarely says no to a Shopping Self-Indulgence at Target. (This indicates her true level of illness, and we do suspect that her boss gave her pneumonia. But we'll see if she can fight it off.)

I also wrote a real actual paper letter to Amanda's principal to tell him we are taking her out of Spanish Immersion. The commitment of 1st grade thru 5th had been fulfilled, and it wasn't my fault that they decided to tak on another year because her 4th grade teacher was a wash, and her fifth grade teacher had a baby mid-year. Plain and simple, Amanda's had trouble understanding the lessons, and by the time she finally has the instructions straight, everyone else has their classwork done. She always feels left behind, and none of us at home can understand her work enough to help her. My Spanish gets me through spelling words, but that's about it. Her principal has been badgering me to keep her in, but I'm realizing it's for political/admin reasons, certainly not for Amanda's welfare.

Well, I halfway cleaned the kitchen, halfway fed the dog, half put some stuff away. Tomorrow is Thurs and Mander is going to come to work with me. It should be a good day - she has some letters to write, and we'll work on the homework CDs. I think we're meeting up with Beendon for dinner. I need to let her know the winery won't work out because it closes at five. Unless I leave work at 330p, I'd never make 5p. But we can still get together because she is leaving for vacation soon and we're going to Austin this weekend.

It really bugs me that she can just pick up and GO like that. Just goes off, and leaves us here. That's ok, she'll be in the car with a toddler.

What happens when you don't have anything to say? from Andi

Sometimes I get an urge to update the blog.

Every time I lay down, my knees are parallel to my shoulders.

Cutting oneself with a serrated knife is a different sensation than doing so with a paring knife. Still as unpleasant, might I add. Bread can be dangerous.

Lately, I forget things immediately after thinking of them.

Lists are great, but they don't work if you don't remember writing things down in the first place.

At work, the deadline to do my timesheets was yesterday EOD. Today, I've thought about doing them several times, including just now. By the time I've moved on to the next topic, I'll have forgotten.

Sometimes I forget things immediately after thinking about them. Does that ever happen to you?

Love Languages

This is an interesting quiz that gives you and your partner ideas about the kind of languages we use to feel loved and give love. Fascinating. Post your score, if you dare. My Primary Love Language is: Acts of Service; my Secondary Love Language is: Words of Affirmation.http://www.youthnetsouthampton.org.uk/breakout/lovelanguages.php

The date is set.

November 18, 2006 is the day we make it unofficially official. Granted, most of the U.S. is not on board with our desires to establish "a marital trust," but we'll just do it our own way. It's probably better this way anyway, because there are fewer expectations and we can mingle traditions and contemporary iconography at will.

Brenda said something brilliant just this morning, so I will share it here:

"Is doable a word? I mean it doesn't look right somehow. It's not like it's in the dictionary or anything. I mean I don't think it is, maybe I just haven't checked."

Oh, wait, that wasn't it. Wrong cut and paste. She really can say insightful things sometimes, honest... Here it is:

"Weddings are not about joining two people really. They are about testing your relationship in every possible way so you ask yourself about a million times - is it worth it? If you get to the cake then the answer is yes."

So, since I'm on a diet, reading this and the subsequent thread that followed just had me thinking about cake. Any kind of cake, not just wedding cake. I'm trying to drop those last few pounds; I'm looking forward to being that size 2 pretty soon. I recommend eating nothing but organic broccoli and filtered water for optimum lightheadedness.

Mmm cake. Sorry, back to the wedding. We've chosen a little winery in Grapevine to host it - we've gone full-service so that we don't have to work or make our families do work, and we can relax and have fun. R and I are not radicals, and we're not out to be offensive by any means. This is going to be a sweet affair, with some of the traditional and eloquent, but we're two women making a statement of our love for each other - and we have a full understanding that these aren't commonplace, and many - MOST - people in our lives are still adjusting to us as a couple. God knows we love you. Thank you for loving us. Thank you for being in our lives and extending a caring hand. We can't apologize for the life we have together, because being happy is our priority, not what a long history of social mores dictates.

Rant, rant. If Renee' decides to write about the wedding, well it will sound completely different, I'm sure. :)

From 2nd of 3

Brenda's brother, Majlogon, has created the certificate I've always wanted. Yes, I've been assimilated into the borg. Please see my credentials for any questions or to have my identity authorized. Thank you.

*Despite my best attempts at manipulating the image and/or the uploader, I can't show off my certificate here. I will continue to make adjustments and get back to my fans.

Blister Packaging of Doom

This is an official rant. I want to know why it is that retail stores now are putting everything in blister packaging??? For the lightest, smallest, plastic, non-fragile items even. I just don't get it. We are destroying ourselves with packaging!! Don't they understand that a zip-loc(tm) baggie will do the trick just fine?

R and I went to Best Buy to scope out potential birthday presents for Amanda and to pick up some printer ink and a phone car charger. We realized that we were in for trouble as we scooped all three of these things off the Pointy Display Rods of Destruction(tm).

Once in the car, we figured we might as well get the thing plugged in, as we haven't had a charge on her Cingular phone for a week. So we pull it out of the bag, stare at it, then at each other. R takes a moment to see if she has a switchblade, hacksaw or machete in the car but we'd left all those in the Corolla. The charger is nestled snugly in several layers of plastic, mocking me, but that's fine - we'll get it plugged in later. Renee and I smile at each other innocently, like lambs, if lambs could smile. If only lambs had mastered the skill of opening blister packaging. Baaaaastards.

Getting back to the apartment, I realize the inevitable is at hand. I get a steak knife, a pair of kitchen shears and an Exacto knife at the ready. There's a hammer, a crowbar and my teeth, if it comes to that.

First cuts go into the ink cartridge, and that went fairly well. It was a combo pack, but Lexmark decided that it was important just to contain the two boxes, not to hermetically seal them. Not too bad, didn't take too long. Snip, snip.

Then the car charger. A simple wire appendage, weighing no more than 3 ounces total. It was on clearance, I'm happy to say. So for $1.49 (yes, can you believe that??) we pretty much paid for the resplendent Teflon Kevlar Fibreglass Bliztr-Pak that could both contain polar bears and repel bullets. This deceptively clear and light package was about to become my worst enemy, the BloodLetter, the Blister Packaging of Doom. You don't understand: the battle was on, but I feared it was I who would be dethroned.

I girded my loins. Then, haha, I laughed to myself, as I saw a perforated oval skimming the backside of the container. This should make it easier to open, I thought. No, what this did was make the spring-back of the plastic more unpredictable. Ha ha. I snipped and scissored on the front, the back, the middle. I tore with my fingers and pulled with my teeth but I stopped when I realized I was putting my eyeballs in harm's way. Here is the packaging with me halfway through it. Panting, I get through the first layer only to discover that the cardboard backing is just as hard to bust through. I kid you not. I've been at this for 15 minutes, trying desperately to not slit my own wrists in Retail HariKari. WTF are these manufacturers doing?

I get the cardboard out - I guess the (c) 2006 Dorkwads, Inc. had to be written somewhere. After pulling it out with a banshee holler, there is yet another layer of plastic. I am laughing hysterically and wiping blood and tears off my countenance. Renee' is backing away slowly as I try thrusting the package in her direction: "Here! You! Take it! Fine, then. Get me a bandage and a shredder! Something!"

The charger inside mocks me, snuggled in there, all peaceful. I'm breaking a sweat. I hate this charger and everything it stands for. Corporate America. Commercialism. Materialistic savage retailing capitalists. Stupid cell phones anyway. This last section of plastic is a doozy, but at least it's not ROUNDED. So I'm stabbing, punching and basically disemboweling the remainder of this, this THING. And in my disheveled, rampant anger I nearly, oh so NEARLY, slice the charger cord. This sudden realization makes all the blood drain from my face and I study it carefully as I take it from its molded bed. no no no please let this not have been in vain. I pleaded with the Plastic Dogs of War.

But it's ok, the charger. IS. OK. I hold it up to the light in transcendental glee. I whisper to Renee in a very "Ren and Stimpy" fashion: "Look, Ren! The charger! I pushed the jolly, candy-like BUTTON! This is for you, all for you, MY DARLINGGGGG..."

She comes walking out of the bedroom with a new, unopened calculator and says sweetly, "Can you do this one, too?" So I collapse amidst the sharp, glittering edges hoping one of them finds my jugular.

This is how weird my world is

First of all, I have to say that what I want for dinner has to be the worst thing in the world, not really fit for human consumption, but here it is:

Double Stuf Oreos(tm) and a bag of white cheddar cheese popcorn.

Has to be DOUBLE STUF and it has to be WHITE cheddar. Not to be confused with white cheddar Oreos(tm) and Double Stuf popcorn.

I don't know why. I could guess PMS, but I don't think that's it.

Here's a whacked out photo of Brenda that she sent us recently. Comments are open. No holds barred. Ask her about her time on the Short Bus. Ask if she caught any flies in that trap. It's like she's a sleepwalking news reporter speaking into a purple microphone. Renee' and I have even wondered why it is she felt the need to send it, but then we realized: she loves abuse. Billdor craves our ill-will. So we give it freely, and we encourage this behavior in others.

I think I'm just bitter because she got to go see her friend Sina in Atlanta, and all we got is this picture as comfort. Hmph.

Renee' asked me if we could get a hippo as a pet. She said they're usually happy creatures. I was going to refute this, but then I found this as proof that she's right:

It's off cuteoverload.com, one of my favorite websites in the hole wy whirl. Here's another favorite website, it makes me happy to see so much Despair.

So yeah, good times. I'm glad my people love me in spite of my eccentricities.

This is a painting Amanda did almost a year ago when Renee' broke out her paints and introduced us to BGros - her and Brenda's art venture and business. I am incredibly proud of this painting and it's my favorite. She got almost no coaching from any of us, and I think it's just amazing. If you're lucky, you may end up with something of hers that's ALMOST this awesome. :)

Who would have thought such greatness would run in the fambly? Oh wait, I don't think it has...

Coffee - not as easy as it seems.

There's coffee yet unborn in this household. R recently bought a can of that chicory stuff that you might have at the Cafe DuMonde in NOLA. I think it's pretty good - strong, but good. She thinks it's strong, but bad. I'll probably make some this morning, and try to keep it on the weak side, but it will probably come out like motor oil.
I wish I could say that I had Real Coffee Skillz(tm) but, no. Here's an example: Yesterday, I was trying to clean out old grounds and coffee from pot, ergo resulting in tipping the used filter, grounds go everywhere. So I clean out every crevice in the kitchen which then had grounds in it. Heinous, I tell you. This is the punishment for drinking coffee. I'm sweeping, and Renee comes out for emotional support. Kiss, hug. She goes back out to the living room. Grinding new coffee (from Target - Southern Pecan flavor - not bad) and setting up new water ("make water" - haha), I finally get the whole process started. Coffee is on its way! Hallelu- ACK! what's wrong with the pot? Leaking, coffee...streaming... Grabbing towel, watching precious caffeine trickle down cabinets. R hears my cry for assistance and wonders what crack I'm on that I can't get through a cycle of coffee. We stop the brew and try to figure out what just went 86 on us. Pot's ok, everything seems normal... oh - I didn't put the machine's filter holder back in. I laid the filter straight down in the darn thing - without that, nothing to measure out water, grounds going into the pot, the works. Fairly important piece of plastic, that thing. Grumpy is no longer a word that can describe my mental state. R is laughing and comforting me. I'm growling and whining. We clean up grounds (again. Huh, whoda thunk.) and add new water, grind more coffee. Well I thought I added new water. Nope, no can do - all the steps weren't meant to come together for me that day, no sir. But even as we finished up and waited for the first TRUE cup of coffee, I suddenly didn't want it anymore. Just kidding. It was ok - too strong cuz I forgot to put more water in it. But R added some more water after it finished brewing, and like the angel she is, made me stay out of the kitchen while she fixed us our first cups.

If this isn't an advertisement for those Coffee Singles, I don't know what is.

EXACTO!!!

Wouldn't it be wonderful if everyone renounced violence forever? I could then conquer the whole stupid planet with just a butter knife.

Two benches ignoring a tree.

I stole this picture and headline from Renee'.
Maybe the only creative thing I'll ever do is blog. Blog creatively. Although Brinbrin and Matt seemed happy with my writing help on the adoption resume. That made me happy. Even if they don't use any of it, and they hate it all, at least they lied to me and said they liked it. So I'm good for something, at least.

We painted this weekend. I will eventually put up a couple pics of our objet d'art, but really, for now, just use your imagination. Mine, titled "Roadkill Birds," had three nice small poppies in the corner and some good grass. Amanda's is a lovely still life, with a blue vase and several varieties of flower. She got paint on her shorts, but it came out. At first, Renee' was frustrated, toiling and heaving over her work, sighing and stomping off, returning - "How's this?" "No, that's crap," the rest of us would say, gently encouraging her to keep trying. "Ok, this isn't bad," she'd say. And B would give her the ole "No, you should stop now and start over with a new canvas. Really. Don't touch it." And R would glare and pout, walk off, come back. But when she started over, it was brilliant. She even came back to the original crap painting and turned it into an awesome urban-ish flower. They both created some really cool pieces.

I feel obsessed with painting and being creative. Last week, or over the weekend (I don't remember -- time is becoming muddy these days), I was haunting the house trying to find my box of pastels. Couldn't find 'em. Wanted to go out and buy more at 11pm. Renee' was all, "Why am I living with a lunatic?" and I was all, "Do you want some bread? Maybe some toast. Where are my pastels? They aren't in this closet or in that box or in the freezer."

There is this insatiable need to do more. I did one painting to their 10. The paint makes me twitchy. The brushes make me wish I could use my fingers. People kept talking to me. I'd be in the middle of a brushstroke and Amanda would get paint on her eyeball. Or I'd be contemplating the fabulous combination of brown on brown, and the girls would be all, "Andi, your painting is a pit of despair. What do you think of mine?"

The kicker is, I'm ok with sucking (for now) because I just want to keep doing it. One day, my paints will come.

HOLIDAY!!! but wait...all things below are boring..

Ok so we had a much needed holiday weekend. It is funny to me when we are exhausted at the end of it though. As we were just walking up the stairs Andi said "will you please bring the aparment down." She is such a funny gal, that Andi!

Ok so life is busy pretty much all of the time. However, this weekend was slow moving and gentle on the soul. Friday seems so long ago. We went out to dinner at Bravo! It was wonderful in every way. Oh wait...was that Sat? I forget. Anyways at some point we went out to Bravo and it was Bravo.

Saturday we went to Brenda's and spent the day working on the adoption album and doing a little painting. We also watched a movie and grilled. It was general laziness and good times.
I believe we were productive on the album but we will see what Brenda ends up posting. I am so grateful that we got to be a part of this important process once again.

Sunday Andi and I mostly just did a whole bunch of nothing. We lost such track of time that we were guessing it to be between and 11am and 2pm and it was actually 2:30 pm. What a lovely day it was. We picked up Amanda at 8pm came home watched yet another movie and that was that.

Today we got up at 10am, which was lovely. We had breakfast and headed to Barndoors for yet another day full of painting and grilling with swimming thrown in the mix. It was a lovely time.
I did manage to put out two grill fires and the house did not burn down.

It was a blast being in the pool with the family. Now we are home and starting to slip back into reality. Well, at least the grown ups are slowly fighting reality. Amanda however is just about to embark on a journey.

I love our life. I am anxious for vacation. I will be meeting Andi's family and I am excited to put faces with the names.

SACAGAWEA!

So, my daughter is a Shoshone Indian. At least, for a day. A few minutes anyway. She was part of a classroom "wax museum" - a display of characters that speak when asked to give information about their history. Kind of cool, wish I could have gone to see it, but today we had a new business pitch that needed conversion from InDesign to Word and it took all morning with two editors working on it. So yeah. I volleyed with her father about going, and he went, took pics, and sent them on to me. Her first words when I said he was trying to go, "Oh man, he's always criticizing me." But maybe he holds her to a higher standard and in general, lazy people hate that.

Please note how I slaved away on the accessories for this costume. I made a "fur shawl," a headband, and a baby wrap out of the finest WalMart cloth. But I think she put it on crooked and it just doesn't look right in this picture. No matter how often I tried to get her to take some care when she put it on for rehearsal, she just didn't give a crap. Sigh. You know how they say a mother's work is never done? It's also "dust in the wind." People don't notice when you do it right, and they sure do when you get it wrong. Ah well, keep on keepin' on. She'll be 18 one day and then I'll be begging to sew costumes and do scrapbooks and paint boxes and watch movies and play board games and go for walks. Life is comfortable but it still isn't FAIR.

Language in another language

This is an instruction manual of an MP3 player written in English by non-native English speakers. Here is an excerpt:

Preface:
For you using the unit correctly. Please read the attached manual carefully before you using the unit. We will not inform individually if the information in the manual was changed.

Attention:
1. Please take out the battery from the unit for prevent the unit damaged if you don't use it long time.
2. Don't use the unit in very hot and cool and dank environment.
3. Please make sure the "lock" button on unlock position.
4. Don't collide the unit with hard object. Otherwise it maybe wear the surface or fall off the battery or damage the hardware of the unit.
5. Please change the battery under the following condition.
a) The symbol of the battery volume was blank and flashing.
b) The system was power off automatically. And power off again soon after power on.
c) All buttons no function and they are still no function after take out and replace the battery.
6. Avoid to using the unit in very dry condition for prevent static electricity.
7. Don't disconnect during the unit is in formatting and uploading and downloading. Otherwise it may make wrong the program.
8. When using the unit for moveable storage. Please export document correctly per the document management method.

It is enter stop interface no matter enter music interface from any interface. The current directory should be resume to the directory when left if the current song need to resume to the song when left MUSIC. It will turn to the first file of the directory if the resume song was avoided.

I would like to mention that I found almost no misspellings. And even though on first read it doesn't seem to make sense, I bet if you had the MP3 in front of you and needed to perform a step, you could figure it out. Me love you long time.

What Scrapple Means to Me.

Scrapple is a food I ate often while growing up. It's a northeastern thing, and nowhere here in Texas have I located any Scrapple. Scrapple's finest brand is represented by Rapa, a Delaware-based company who only makes Scrapple.

Do you need to know what it is? Well, it's a breakfast meat. What kind of breakfast meat, you ask? Take a pig. Take a blender. Add some cornmeal. Form into blocks. Slice and fry in the pan and eat with scrambled eggs and toast. You don't look too closely into your Scrapple. Any oddly textured bits get swallowed with the rest, and you just don't think too hard about your breakfast. Because the taste is amazing - surpasses bacon, sausage, kippers, and Spam in all ways. (Spam is maybe not a great example, tho Amanda loves how Renee' cooks Spam.)

My sister can tell you a great story about families and Scrapple. When I was around 2 or 3 years old in our hometown of Delaware, I was laying spread eagle on the floor. So she asked, "Hey you, what are you doing?" To which I replied delightedly, "I'm a piece of Scrapple!!" Isn't that adorable? See how influential this stuff is? Children and barns alike were raised on this stuff, the building blocks of nutritional mystery.

Some people eat it with syrup, but I'm not a fan. These are the syrup-on-my-sausage types, and I'm not akin to this. I like mine cut thin and fried DARK - my brother likes it that way too, I think. My whole family has cravings of it, so that a select few of us began making our own, which is pretty darn good. By us, I mean, not me, per se. Now that only my one brother and one family friend remain in the northeast, what choice did we have? My other brother in Austin and myself have to wait to either get care packages of Scrapple or travel to Florida, where my sisters and mom make it themselves, or they wait for care packages of Scrapple. It's a desperate situation really, and I've discovered Rapa ships! but only through February because of the temperatures. Understandable, since Scrapple gone bad is absolutely not to be trifled with.

It's an old recipe: Rapa does it best, my sisters do it well, and every other version I've tried just doesn't cut it. So I'm hoping you all get a chance to try some. Gather your best folks around you so you can stay distracted while you eat your Scrapple.

B is for Birthday, Beef and Brooligig

This is one of my birthday presents. For those in my life who I love dearly, I so wish you could be there to experience these priceless objet d'art. This - is apology steak. Named so for its aroma of Matt's sincere regret for his wrongdoings, his slips of the tongue, his faux pas. Any mistake or misstep made in our direction, and his payback is a steak dinner. He may have been sorry for the fact that he is singlehandedly responsible for global warming, and if I have to turn the A/C up in the apt, we nail him. I mean, he offers up dinner for our whole family, cooked by him. Repast on Sunday was no exception.

I don't have photos of the lovely wheat-free bread/crushed nut horse derbies, or whatever he called them. We did bring salad, and Brenda always makes potatoes. (She has to contribute somehow; I mean, we can barely tolerate her presence as it is - there has to be peace offering.)
We brought the salad so we didn't come across entirely as the freeloaders that we are. (Kudos to Bingdon's herb dressing, btw. She should post it here.)

Anyway, after the game of modified pinochle, we had ice cream and Brenda's famous cherry-chocolate cake. I think it's the best she's made EVAR. No photos of that either, but it's for the best. You'd have been licking your screen by now if I'd posted them.

No one got any pictures of all of us together, and I blame Matt for that...

A birthday poem from Amanda to me.

Birthday Poem

Candy, cake, and ice cream too
Mommy did you know I love you?
Come on, let's go, it's time you know,
To blow out the candles so blow Mommy blow!!!

It's a surprise,
So I'll tell her lies.
She looked surprised
When I saw her eyes.
The camera is flashing,
Renee is laughing.
I gave you a present, It looks like a crescent.

Logan is running,
He looks very stunning.
Logan went to grab a potato,
Hallie instantly had to say no.
Shannon is talking about Germany,
It's starting to annoy me.
It's your thirty-fifth birthday,
So everybody say Hip-Hip Hooray.
Now it's time for me to say
I hope you had a good day!!

Love,
Amanda Reis


I ask you: does it get any better than that?

Mucho amor, mi pequenita.

Much ado about chickens

No, that's not Renee' in a chicken suit, but it's probably as close as it's going to get. You see, tomorrow is my birthday. I'm turning that ripe old age of 35. I didn't think it was possible, either. All that hard-living, fast times and reckless abandon. Wowie. Whoda thunk.

So, in homage and respect to my aging carapace, I was delivered the most gorgeous bunch of flowers, a box of candy, 6 balloons and a serenade "You Are My Sunshine" by...this chicken. She even cracked a couple jokes. "I'll do any job, just no chicken strips, please" and "I'm a girl chicken - can't you see the chicken breasts?"

The 5' furry fowl also brought the entire office over to my cube to experience the scene. And after a videotaping mishap (thankfully, the battery died) someone did snap a couple digi photos, and she said she'd email them to me over the weekend. I'll share them with you later.

What a great start to a great birthday. I've gotten cards from co-workers, two of them even bought me lunch (thanks, D, R and M). So it's been a fun week, and the weekend purports to be grand as well.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

Just because I love each and every person reading this blog I wanted to make a public service announcement.

As most would know if you scream in the shower it is never a good thing.

Ok so I was in the shower innocently doing what people do...bathing and all...but then I decided to use soap. My mother always said make sure you use soap but ladies and gentlemen I am here to tell you that mothers are not ALWAYS right. If only I would not have listened to her but I am a good daughter and always do what my mothers says. Yeah well it sounds good anyways.

So as I was saying....I picked up the container of body wash...evil body wash...popped open the lid and splat directly into my eye flew a quarter size of this purple goo. I did what any normal person would do and screamed my eyes out. At that point I began to rapidly squeeze the bottle and release. This did nothing for me and so I gently put the bottle down to collect my thoughts. At this time I stepped back from the situation just to get a grip and make sure it actually did indeed hurt as much as I thought it did and upon such conformation I immediately began to scream again.

Andi came rushing in thinking I was surely dead or nearly dead or at the least mostly dead. After looking at my eye she suggested that I run water over it. I always knew she was the smart one. It did but it did not help. Here I am late at night and my eye still hurts A LOT.

chicken dance

the chicken dance is a dangerous thing. honestly but then again i can make anything dangerous.
it is true.

it was a wonderful weekend of bill paying and art. I was in a very happy place on Sunday. After putting up as much of a fight as I could we went to church. People who know me will as always scratch their head as to why I would put up a fight to go to church considering how much I love being there. What can I say? I am a freak. However, I love church and it was a great sermon.
The preacher talked about Thomas and FAITH.

FAITH.......it is like a lightbulb.

Then after church we went to eat Mexican with B....
Did I mention Happy Place? YEP

Then as if the day was not awesome enough we went to the art fair. Sure it was hot. Sure it was crowded. Sure we drove in circles in a bank parking lot more than we needed to. It was fun though. FUN FUN FUN.

The goal for the day was to look at art and then see BRAVE COMBO. They are an awesome NUCLEAR PUNK band. So we managed to pull it off.

Ladies and if there are any men reading this WE DID THE CHICKEN DANCE. I did bonk knees with some stranger and it REALLY hurt but it was a lot of fun. I loved being out there in the hot Texas sun baking like a chicken with my family.

Andi,
Thank you for being such a trooper. I adore you.

Renee'

if only i knew what i was going to say

if i knew what i was going to write i would title this blog but of course i do not. i would like to write something that would sound brillant and astonish people but i am too tired.

i do know that if you bring home tulips suddenly it is a good thing.

this morning I actually talked to my mom. Bless us Lord because we are busy. It is difficult for the two of us to reach each other. it is not for a lack of trying. Regardless today we caught up. She got to see her friend that she has not seen in a long time. It was a nice conversation.

Also I had lunch with my dad. He was driving thru and stopped in for lunch. I also got to give him a shop tour. It was cool to get to show him the press brake. It is a true MONSTER. I do not know the tonage though. I need to find out b/c he wanted to know.

We did not have the house cleaner this week and it seemed to make me a real bear. I would like to take this time to say ANDI I AM SORRY ABOUT THAT and I love you.

Painting Renee’s toenails is mostly a venture in futility. All her toes crisscross each other, so unless we leave them in the egg-carton/toe separator thingy for 30 minutes, they immediately obliterate the orange surface of one another. The resulting gummy wound makes it look as though Emma had the brush in her little paws to do the job.

We’re at the pool now. It’s about 85 outside. But the day after some dinner, dancing and a drag show, nursing bad knees all around and feeling overly warm, overly cranky and substantially hungover, we’re just kind of sitting here. I brought a book – and have passed it to her because she couldn’t think of anything to write. We dipped our toes in, and remarkably, no one drowned.

I think we have committed to the fact that she is high-maintenance. I am moody and obstinate. There is a difference.

There’s a guy here with like, four kids. All some hue of redhead. There’s also a large gaggle of 20-somethings across the pool campus. You can practically feel the swagger. Most of them are unattractive, even in their bikinis. My woman is wearing the largest sunglasses I’ve ever seen. Well, that someone would wear for real, and not for a costume in a Las Vegas comedy act. And a blue ball cap and orange shorts. And I find her to be the most stunning creature …ever. Just so you know, her orange toes match her shorts. We speculate about the hot tub potential of this establishment. She watched a family head that way, but we’re both too lazy to go see for ourselves. It’s probably too hot for a dip in a hot tub right now anyway. Without being wet, this little adventure is much like suffering.

Church this morning was a lot like camp. We got up early, got all our stuff together, then changed our mind after seeing the bear. I was panicky because of the drive into downtown FW and then she got panicky because our seats were the last, and I mean the highest, lastest, farthest awayest seats in the entire place. By the time we climbed the stairs to find the seats we were uncomfortable, achy and frazzled, so when she took one look down – straight down – to see part of the ant show on stage, it was all over. So we gathered our respective phobias and found the location of the Agape church. It was too late to attend, but at least we knew where it was and how to get there. And approximately how long it takes to drive out in the middle of BFE. We need to make sure we leave a solid 45 minutes before church begins next week so we make it on time. She’s bad with directions, I’m bad with directions and time, amanda’s bad with church all around. This should be fun.

DOG POTTY

Is it normal to go potty with a dog on your lap?

Renee' the curious

I HATE PEANUTS

Hi my Name is Renee' and I am here to say I hate peanuts. I do. It is true but to my defense they are gross. There are two exceptions to this rule:

#1
When I am at the Rangers game I like to suck the red skin off of them and then spit out the nut.

#2
I LOVE PayDay candy bars. I do not believe those are REAL peanuts though. That darn bar is just plain yummy.

Nooo Not a speed bump

Today I was walking the dog when the family pulled up. Of course at this point as any sane person would do I opened Amanda's door and the dog and I both jumped in her lap. We could not shut the door for Andi to park. The door would not shut b/c my hiney was sticking out, oh and I was holding on to the steering weel so Andi could not park. She rushed over the speed bump ahead of us like a mad woman.

Man in Park......written by TADE

Everyday at 5:25 Bob breathes a sigh of relief. He knows that the day is almost over and his therapy will soon begin. Bob shuts off his computer and walks down the hall way takes a left and passes Sally’s desk as he does every day @ 5:30. Sally smiles as kindly as she always does. Before last fall he would have stopped by to chat with her for a while but he now knows better. He has something more to do with his time. He smiles back at her and tells her to have a good evening. He continues on his journey to wash out his mug. This journey generally takes him 5 minutes when at one point in his life it took another 25. He washes out his mug with hot water, no soap except on Friday, and then excessively dries it before sitting in the cabinet. He walks back to his desk grinning to himself the whole way. He puts the needed papers in his bag, picks it up and heads out the door.

Sunshine immediately hits his face and he can not contain his joy and laughs out loud. He strolls to his car unlocks the passenger door and places his bag in the seat. He walks around the rear of his car and glances at his scraped bumper which always makes him giggle. He plops in the driver seat turns off the radio and takes off towards his slice of Heaven.

As Bob pulls up to the park he notices the trees are starting to bloom. The world around him is full of beauty and he intends to appreciate it all. He finds his perfect spot with its’ lush green grass and plops down flat on his back. He folds his fingers under his head and he closes his eyes briefly to reflect upon his day and his past. He opens his eyes and enjoys the stars that the bright sun creates in front of him. Occasionally as his young daughter would once do he reaches out to try and grab them before they fade and the clear sky above becomes clearer.

Bob often relives the events of his past and appreciates his future. He reminds himself that the stress he felt that day is to stay at his job. He knows what a wonderful life he has and so he lets it all goes. He relaxes each muscle starting with his toes and works his way up to his fingers until every muscle in his body is fully relaxed. It is about that point every day that his lovely bride lays down beside him to do just the same. They do not speak but their elbows touch which often makes her giggle. She relaxes fully just as he had.

It is at that point that they discuss nothing about their day other than how wonderful the leftovers were and what they want to eat for dinner that night. They turn on their sides towards one another and smile. She reminds him it is her night to pick and so she informs him that she had thought about it all day. They were going to that German restaurant that she loved so and he was going to dance with the old man whether he wanted to or not. He smiled and attempted a half hearted fuss about it as he leaned on one elbow but in his heart he knew he would follow her anyway and therefore he was happy. It is true that he hated to dance with the old man but if he were to be true about himself he really just enjoyed the idea of making her think he hated it.

They both turn back over to lie on their backs and silently reflect upon their week and it flashes thru his mind that he did not send that last fax but he fights the thought and remembers a derby car race when he was 12 instead.

A great quote

I've never had anyone's approval, so I've learned to live without it.

The Great Santini

Pat Conroy

The Sun Also Riseth...eth.

Driving to work, I passed a truck this morning that was carrying crane parts. This must have had 20 giant wheels in order to bear up under the weight of this crane arm I saw on the bed. I was wowed. Heavy machinery is cool.

I've started stretching in the mornings. This morning I ran out of time because the Bank of America website is a heinously designed trap that makes it impossible to do something as simple as make a payment. No, really. Why would I go to Customer Service when the Pay A Bill, Credit Card Payment, Credit Card Access, e-Bill, etc etc etc options SHOULD PROBABLY cover such a desire? Well, no. You need to click on the Customer Service tab. This discovery only came after 40 minutes of searching - I was on a mission! But I digress. Where was I? Oh, yeah...There I am, trying to do stomach crunches and stretch and other bending-at-the-waist type items, but my joints sounded like Rice Krispies(r). It was amusing at first, but then I wondered if some body part would be left on the floor after I got up.

Ah, routine. Renee' and I do a little dance every morning. One day, we will hit the road with our act, a finely tuned routine of scraping past one another, and bouncing off edges of furniture, bumping butts, bonking heads, and pocking the whole thing with "Sorry" "Oops" "Can I get in there?" and "Oh, here, you dropped this." We will be famous. People will come from all around to witness the sight of two women who cohabit the same household.

This morning, however, each of us needed to be in the exact same place at the exact same time. To wit:

Our bathroom is broken up into sections, to reduce the chances of bodily injury. The hair station is the hair dryer, mousse, spray, brush, et. al. The sink is where she puts on her makeup, where tooth care happens, and I put on lotion. The right side is for deodorant, jewelry and watch. The the walk-in closet is off our bathroom, and it's long, not square. (only one exit)

This morning she was doing her hair, as I was going to do hair, so I decided to put on lotion. Then I'm putting on deodorant as she is trying to get by me, which she seems to need to do a dozen times in that short span of time. I think I followed her into the closet, but without real direction, so I was in her way almost immediately, running my hands over blouses I had no intention of wearing.

(Did I happen to mention our apt. is less than a 1000 sq ft? Yeah.)

Then I was putting on pants as she was needing around me to get her whatchamacallit thingy. She was blocking the bathroom door trying to remember something, (in this house, we don't actually pause in the routine or we'll be late. Ask Amanda sometime about how I go ballistic if I see her sitting on the couch without multi-tasking something else) and I wanted to get by to finish my hair. I said, "You're in my way this morning." She said, "No, you're really in MY way."
Each in a state of semi-dress, though I think she's a little farther along than I am since she leaves sooner than Amanda and I do, we continue our Dance, finally having moved away from the bathroom. But then...

I trudge out to the kitchen (by out, I mean 7.5 ft away) to gather the pasta salad I made for her work potluck, and I was turning to get the black spoon from the dishwasher - and she was standing there. Right there. Blocking the dishwasher door because she was fixing a cup of coffee to go. The coffee maker is above the dishwasher. But I swear, she was back in the bedroom the moment before. She's like that angel in "The Very Old Man with Enormous Wings" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. He popped up in all parts of the house randomly. I was convinced she had magical powers of POOF!

As she made her way out the door with salad, coffee, bag and phones, she's frazzled with a headache and not feeling well in general, we kiss goodbye and the door shuts behind her. 30 seconds later she's back in because she forgot her keys. Understandable, considering she had everything else. I believe working parents need a growth hormone for a second set of arms, be twice as strong, have perfect vision and hearing, and the patience of nuns.

Amanda, meanwhile, cruises around her side of the apartment in her own bathroom and bedroom, and comes out clean and ready every morning. If she happens to momentarily pause in the short hallway where the laundry is, her person is promptly run down by the individual(s) hustling back and forth.

That is, unless she needs OUR brush, a shirt out of OUR closet, a pair of jeans, a pair of shoes, lotion...

Home Alone WHEN? - by Renee'

Imagine it is yesterday for a moment and if you read this some other day than today then just imagine it was that Tuesday that I am talking about.

Ok so I went into work with two goals: #1 survive the production meeting.....#2 leave at 5.
I am wounded but I did indeed survive the production meeting. However, death might have been easier to swallow. Regardless at 6 minutes til 5 or as some people say 4:56 I closed up shop and walked out the door. Yes, I actually did it. I was quite proud of myself.

It is interesting to me that when Andi and I first had the conversation about making sure we spent more time with Amanda that I thought she would be the one to struggle with actually pulling it off. Of course I should have known better considering how the last 6 months has gone at my job. Of course I am the one who can not seem to pull it off. As a result I went back to work yesterday (Monday just in case you are not keeping up or it is Thursday when you read this) and made it clear that no matter what I would be leaving work at 5.

So here I go off to pick up the kid and I listen to some riveting talk radio along the way to only realize there was no kid to pick up. Yes, Amanda does exist but she just was not where she was suppose to be. Her grandmother had made other plans for evening and neither of us knew about that little fact. As a result I went home alone.

I was disappointed but I made the best of it. I immediately came home and sat on my booty. No actually I came home and immediately took the dog for a walk. It was a nice little walk around the poo poo spot. I used a bag like a good little renter should and all was well. Well there were a few isolated incidents of stranger danger but good ol' Emma scared them away.

Then I came home and did something I do not believe I have done in about 5 years or actually 5 months, I cooked dinner. It is shocking I know but it is also true. Of course I cleaned the kitchen first. I made ham, potatoes, and baked beans. I cleaned the kitchen up after my cooking adventure. I tried to talk to B on the phone but I ended up dumping all of the ham juices all over the counter and floor and had to go clean that up.

It is a rare thing to be home alone. It is a bit of a lost feeling at the beginning but I quickly found my groove cooking, cleaning and of course listening to the IPOD.

Did I mention the dog is pyscho?

There's a way to alleviate self-esteem issues that arise from body image comparison discrepancies: Stop watching TV.

See it. Remember it. Don't let it go.

It's important that you understand how certain songs affect me. I've been listening to my ColdPlay CD for months, but never really "listened" to the songs that I didn't pre-like. I heard a song that moved me in such a way, that I may be forever changed. It was inspiring, freeing, remedying, chilling, renewing, invigorating and made me cry. I thought of Renee' the whole time I listened, and I played it again and again on my way to work. I let the tears stream down my face as I realized how and who and why and where.

I can't tell you which song it was because it's a surprise. I have plans for it, for her, for us. I am overwhelmed with the realization that she and I can do anything together, and that she has not once suppressed my ideas, guffawed at my dreams or held me back in any venture that I thought might be something to try. I'm the only one that has done that, and that my fears held us both back more times than I can count. Her faith in our abilities has run the gamut, from simple and flower-like to grandiose and irridescent.

I'll stretch, I swear to you, I'll get there. I'm ready.

THIS WAS ACTUALLY WRITTEN IN AUGUST 05

So what is the enemy of life? It could be so many things. Perhaps it is the fact that we own cars. Should we go back to horses? It seems they were less efficient but also cheaper to operate. Give a horse an apple or blueberry muffin on occasion and they are good to go. Oh perhaps a horse should actually get water as well. However, a car is a different story. Those darn things need gas, working brakes, and a sunroom that actually opens and closes. It is crazy really. I mean gas might go up to umm somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 million dollars per gallon because of a storm. Brakes cost $500 bucks to repair. It is all a lot of trouble.Oh we must not forget the g/f's oil change. Ok well we should not forget her oil change but of course we just put it off. It is like doing the laundry. Sure the laundry needs to be done and the oil needs to be changed but there is chocolate fondue to have and we have priorities folks. Ok so how about time. Time is an enemy as well. This weekend we ran like a madd crazy set of women. We shopped until we actually dropped. I think somewhere between Kroger and home on Sat. night I injured my left knee. Andi seemed to injure her left knee at Target on Sunday. Now when the kid came home on Sunday one of the first things she said is "my knee hurts." I started to laugh out loud and she looked at me like I was a cruel bitch. I could not help but laugh though. I said "well at least it is the right and we are now balanced." Yes when we do something as a family we all get involved. It is the only way.Now we went to Kroger for a phillips head screw driver. We are horrible lesbians because between the two of us we did not have a decent one. Andi had one but it was damaged. I had a handy dandy fancy tool kit in my car. Everything I could need was in that thing except for one item that is mysteriously missing: a freakin' phillips head screwdriver. Now at this point we had been shopping ALL DAY long for furniture.I am determined that I am going put that crap together that night because basically it had to be done. So we went to Kroger and they had pretty much all things a person could need including DVD-R's but not a phillips head screwdriver. We were not defeated though. We would just keep moving on. We went across the street to a fine store called Albertsons. Now most people would go to either Home Depot or Wal-Mart perhaps for such an item but not us. We are not traditional. We found it at the handy dandy local Albertsons and it was only $1.00.

Dear coffe table - by Amanda Reis

I have tripped over you so many times that my toe is almost broken!I will threaten to eather sell you, or throw you out.This letter is to insure you about how angry i am with what I got for $399 at walmart.My toe has sufferd too many of your consiquences now it's yoour turn. Your wooden carvings has no importance to me what so ever. At first you where a beutiful peace of wood, now you get on my very last nerve. Hopefully someone else hasthe time and patence for all of this pain that I have sufferd.

yours truly,

buahahahahahahahahahah, buahahahahahahahahah...ha..ha cough.........ahhahahahah.

More from Andi

Based on the perspective of this photo, you'd think I was towering over these three. Well, I am. I live with a houseful of small ladies. You may be aware that both my fiance and my daughter wear the same jeans and shoe size. This has been a big boon for clothes-sharing. Well, usually.

By the way, Emma outgrew her little Christmas sweater and is about 2.5 seconds away from outgrowing her collar.

This picture was taken when her little ears still flopped over. Now she's got big batty ears, which are almost cuter. Plus, we get great reception when we tie her to the TV.

Please note the look of "no stress" on the faces of A and R. That's all changed, and now we need a vacation in the Caribbean. We may go on a "scrapbooking cruise" in September - a cheap fare that Deb B. told us about. Hey, it's possible!

I can feel myself getting addicted to the "posting with photos" thing.

Much ado about nothing

First of all, I'd like everyone to know how hard my hunnybunny worked on getting her template up and running on this site, with all new colors, fonts and links. She was tweaking it for several hours on Saturday. I cleaned out the closet; not as hi-tech, but it certainly needed the job done.

Just so you know, I will be 35 this year. YES. May 7th. I remember being 15 and thinking surely I'd be dead by then, look how much I'll have done. Right on the one count, anyway.

Grinding coffee this morning, I realized something. My coffee beans were coated with a fake pecan flavoring, the creamer was fake milk flavored with fake vanilla, and I would be adding fake sugar. So why drink it if it's all so unreal? I guess the caffeine is real.

I'm starting out my day by shredding some documents. Not in an Enron kind of way, but in a "please stop shopping with my social security number" kind of way. The thing is really loud for being so small, and I heard the click of the bedroom door shutting after it ground through 5 sheets or so. An amazing thing about Renee' is that she doesn't have a fit at me, not outwardly anyway; she just chocks my thoughtlessness and retardation up to my old age and lack of attention sp...ooo! shiny! hey, cmere, woooossshhhhaaaaa, mmmm sleeepy time. Hi! My name is Dory...

Where was I? Right, puppies. We bought Amanda a book called, "How to Live with a Neurotic Dog." I wish Emma could read - she may then understand that it's not proper doggy ettiquette to do a Matrix jaunt around the house when she's chasing after her stuffed kitten. I used to feel bad for her, being in her crate all day, but after she's used my lap as a launchpad, or bitten my hand countless times in her pursuit of The Toy, the scarring reminds me of how she makes me crazy. I haven't begun any training yet, and I know my one sister is going to KILL me for that, but one day, I swear, it will happen. You'd think it wouldn't be so hard to find 15 minutes a day to train your dumb dog...

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