Boo

Nature Boy as a super scary (barefoot) werewolf.  Note to all you concerned grandmas out there:  (Nana, I'm talking to you!)  He only went Huckleberry Finn for photos.  I made him wear shoes once the candy harvesting began.

Tree Guy normally eshews Halloween costumes.  But he was in the mood to scare the kids in our new neighborhood this year, so he made an exception.

Shrinky Dink (the witch) and me (the soul sister). 

Tree Guy scaring the locals.

Next time I take Nature Boy to the Han house, I'm totally wearing this getup.

The upside of dementia

Do y'all remember that I told you a month ago that my small but mighty grandma moved in with my mom? (It was necessary because of health and memory changes.)  After 30-odd days of never-a-dull-moment, GC Brawler (aka Badass Kas, aka Ain't Hearing No Sass Kas, aka Mimi) came up with the following:

Top 10 Reasons Dementia Isn't So Bad  

1) There is no such thing as leftovers.
2) Someone can really piss you off and you won't remember it.
3) YOU can really piss somebody off and you won't remember it.
4) If someone is talking to you and refuses to shut the hell up, you can just say something crazy to put a stop to it with no explanations. EX: "Have you ever thought about killing someone?" and "Where's a good place to hide the body?" Or, "Is lime still really cheap?"
5) Summer reruns are no longer boring.
6) People who repeat themselves are no longer boring.
7) Anti-psychotic meds are great sleeping pills.
8) Everyone you come in contact with seems like a new friend.
9) No one expects very much from you.
10) And, if you're any good at messing with people just for grins, no one will know when you lose it all for real.

Zoo day!

Nature Boy and I are all for fun masquerading as education. How awesome is it that homeschoolers can go to the zoo and check it off as a school day?! Wahoo!

I'm one of those weird girls who thinks frogs, toads, and bats are cute.  So I stalk them.  I took this picture after scaring off all the other bats.

My mom, GC Brawler, and I were trying to remember the name of the shade of blue in the picture below.
 
Her:  I really like that color blue.  I can't remember the name of it.
Me:  Is it cobalt blue? 
Her:  No. 
Me:  Cornflower blue? 
Her:  No.
Me:  Teal?
Her:  No.
Me:  That's all I got. 

A week later...

Oh yeah.  It's PEACOCK blue. 

(Duh.  That reminds me of the garbanzo bean/chickpea gaffe.)

Nature Boy's crush.  Ain't she cute?

Haterz

What with all the recent dissing of my kid, spouting of anti-Pokemon rhetoric, questioning of our faith, and most recently, griping me out for a parking faux pas, it's all I can do to keep from slapping somebody.         

I think these fools risk these things with me because they don't know about my inner sista.  They assume that, for the sake of politeness and good will towards men, I will be a good little fellow white middle class suburbanite and let rudeness and offense slide without a word.

They obviously haven't heard about the Golden Corral Incident.

I grew up in St. Louis and Dallas.  Both cities are racially mixed.  In elementary school in St. Louis, my white self was actually in the minority.  I had great, sassy friends.  I loved their no-crap-taking attitudes.  So I developed one of my own.   

Then I married Tree Guy and we moved to Oklahoma for a job.  The relative lack of diversity here was a shock.  I try really hard to fit in here.  I learned to bake high fiber muffins.  I recycle.  I arrange play dates.  I buy foods with no trans fats.

But underneath all this affability, there's a chick biting her tongue to keep from going off on folks.  I will say it again: it's a good thing I'm medicated. 

So here's the latest installment in the Let's Piss Danielle Off campaign.  Nature Boy has a friend at church named Hoon.  Hoon and his family invited Nature Boy over for a play date.  When we arrived, several boys were playing basketball in Hoon's driveway, so I pulled our car in front of part of a neighbor's driveway.  (It was a 3-car garage, and I was partially blocking one car.)  Granted, not the best arrangement, but I only needed to be there long enough to let Hoon's mom know that Nature Boy was there.

Of course, at exactly that time, it was necessary for the neighbors to leave in the exact car I was (partially) blocking.  So I ran over to the wife as the husband backed out and around my car, and in my best white middle class suburbanite voice, I say, "Oh!  I am so sorry for parking in front of your driveway!  The boys were playing basketball in my friend's driveway and I only ran in for a minute..."  It fell on deaf ears.  Not only that, but when I apologized to the husband (who looks like the titular character from Weekend at Bernie's), he said, "PARKING IN FRONT OF MY DRIVEWAY!  SO STUPID!!!!!  DAMN!!!"  Then he shook his head in disgust at my stupidity. 

Hoon's mom came out and apologized to her neighbors profusely, again explaining that the boys were in the driveway so I couldn't park at her house.  Bernie mouthed off something to her that I didn't catch and I drove off while she stood staring in confusion at her neighbor's retreating form.  I felt sorry for her.  It wasn't her fault I parked there, thereby incurring the wrath of her neighbors.

A couple hours later I went to pick up Nature Boy from the Han house.  (I parked in their driveway this time!)  As soon as I got in the door, Mrs. Han told me that her neighbor is very angry.  I told her that I gathered that when he yelled at me.  Then she said he's very upset that I just drove away without apologizing.  I told her that I had apologized, to both the husband and the wife, but that neither of them acknowledged the apology. 

And she asked me to go apologize again! 

Hoon and Nature Boy have known each other through church for years, but this is probably only the second or third time I'd talked with Mrs. Han.  I didn't know how to respond to her request that I go apologize again to someone who yelled at me the first time I apologized.  What would you have done?

Even though I really didn't want to, I decided to do what she asked and go re-apologize to Bernie and Co.  The Han family has to live across the street from them, after all, and I didn't want to cause any trouble for them.  They are very quiet and polite and I assume, haven't had trouble with these neighbors before.

Mrs. Han insisted on going with me.  We walked over to Bernie's house and she rang the doorbell.  I followed her to the porch, but she said, "No!  You stand back there!"  And she pointed about 10 feet from the door.  (WTH???)  I already wasn't liking how this apology thing was going.  Mrs. Han kept ringing the doorbell over and over.  No one answered.  I was like, "Oh well, nobody's home!!!"  (Hurray!)  Then Bernie peeked out from his side yard and I again entreated him with my best obsequious rendition of, "I'm so sorry about parking in front of your driveway today--"  Bernie interrupted me to yell, "That's all right, just don't park in my yard again!  I would have towed it away!!!!!"  And he stormed off.  I guess that's Bernie being nice. 

These kind of things happen all the time.  And I swear I don't go looking for drama.  The best I can figure is that there are just a lot of a$$holes in the world. 

So I think it's time to resurrect an outward manifestation of the inner me.  Maybe this will help.

I say resurrect it because this is actually my second 'fro wig.  (It is my firm belief that every family should have one.)  'Fro wig #1 got a lot of play.  Here's a picture of 6-year-old Nature Boy cooking in it. 

Like mother, like son.

Action!

Life has been way too busy lately for this slacker mom.  Nature Boy was cast in one of the lead roles in The Best Christmas Pageant Ever at the local youth theater, so we have to attend every. single. practice.  That means a 50 mile round trip three to four times a week.  Whew!  (And you know Ol' Henry ain't what he used to be.) 

The bankroller in the family is all, "Do you realize it costs $5 in gas every time you drive to the theater?!"  And I'm all, "Sometimes we must suffer for our art."  And Nature Boy's all, "Maybe we should get a hovercraft."

I really wish we had youth theater opportunities in our city.  We used to.  Back in the good old days when my friend Byn over at 365 Days of Clean Eating wrote and directed children's musicals a mere 5 minutes from my (then) house.  From what I hear, our community theater isn't interested in children's shows because they aren't big money makers.  Whatev.  We showed them it could be done.

 

E.B.P. with a side of cake

I consider myself to be pretty low-maintenance when it comes to birthdays.  I don't require anything fancy to feel loved.  I prefer good, old-fashioned family time with its attendant people, food, and laughter.  (A customized birthday rap is always a nice touch.)  That said, I'm far too polite to actually turn down a present.  So thank you, family and friends, for providing me with ample opportunity to display my gracious acceptance of your offerings!  :)

Nature Boy woke me up (early!) to make me a birthday breakfast in bed.  I lazed in the aforementioned bed until neigh on 1PM, because I was finishing up The Scarlet Lion by Elizabeth Chadwick.  Loved it.   

Tree Guy bought me one of my favorite things, a Yankee Candle Company candle in this scent:

My guys made me dinner tonight.  They worked together to grill some burgers, with Velveeta Shells and Cheese and honey-glazed carrots on the side.  It was really sweet.  Nature Boy did most of the cooking, and he was very proud of himself.

    

After dinner, we took a carrot cake with cream cheese icing (my fave) to share with GC Brawler and Meemaw.  I was given a journal, a notepad, a heart-shaped mirror, and a silver filigree cross necklace.  (Woo hoo!) 

It's such a relief to me that my grandma is doing so well now that she's living with my mom.  She's getting excellent care (as well as getting her "hair did" on a regular basis), and I think she's actually happy there.  Check it out.

And to top it all off, my bestie, Shrinky Dink, came over with her crazy, out of control somewhat active and persistent puppy, Balto.  She gave me a present too (a nature-themed plaque with the Serenity Prayer on it). 

 

It truly was a happy birthday. 

P.S.  E.B.P. is an acronym I made up for the phrase Eye Ball Problem.  E.B.P. typically refers to a condition that causes strangers to stare at you for extended periods of time.  As in, "What is she staring at?!  I guess she has E.B.P.!"  A second, less common usage refers to an actual physiological issue with an actual eyeball.  Remember when I had poison ivy on my eyelid?  It was skirting E.B.P. territory.  I now have something else going on, and I need your armchair diagnosis.  See this?

A week or so ago, I developed a sharp pain and pressure in my eyeball.  I pressed on it in an attempt to relieve the pressure, and was rewarded with what felt like an ice pick to the ol' sclera.  And now I have this pink thing going on.  Any idea what it could be?