KEY 2404 September 26, 2009

A big road hobby here in VA Beach is reading all the vanity plates & figuring out what they say.   A recent favorite was

U2DID

Get it? You tooted? Classic! We laughed & laughed at that one.

Then a few minutes later on the same drive I said, OH MAN!   LOOK at THAT one!

KEY-2404

…and began laughing hysterically.  8th grader caught on right away and played along.   6th grade girls in the back and 4th grade brother who were all in the car at the time were all, “What? WHAT! I don’t get it!   What does Key 24oh4 mean?  What??  !!!   Just tell me!”   Which only served to make us laugh harder & harder.

Tears.

Gasps.

A litttle bit of pee as they tapped furiously into their phones, wrote it on scraps of paper and searched their minds for obscure funny sayings with “key” and numbers in them.

Finally we composed ourselves and admitted to them that it means nothing. Nothing at all.

Later we couldn’t resist the opportunity to try it out on the All-Knowing 9th grader.   Hubby had him putting it in his phone, looking at it in a mirror backwards over his shoulder “Like you would see it in a rear view mirror” upside down, everything we could think of.  We got him good.  TWICE.  And now it has become a saying for anything a person is unwilling to disclose.

As in: “Who is that texting you this late?”

“Key2404 Mom.”

SquishFest 09 September 24, 2009

So I got encouragement from my doctor a few months ago in the form of a wagging finger that I was overdue for Ye Annual MammoGrammo.  Fine.

Like it’s not bad enough that I fail the family medical issues pop quiz every time I enter any form of Dr. waiting room before I even put the paper gown on?

ALRIGHT.  I SAID I’LL GO.

Step 1:  Look up address on GPS, make it there, but get confused & park in the back of the building by mistake just like 13 months ago.

Step 2:  Debate entering at the EMERGENCY (convenient) entrance.

Step 3:  Begin to hum “Emergency…E.  MER.  GEN.  CY” by Kool & the Gang for the next 87 minutes

Step 4:  Entrance Interview.  This is the point where you feel like you should LOOK like there’s something wrong with you so you can get into the appointment.

Step 5:  Prove you can Pay.  Have available your insurance card, picture ID (because people have been known to just walk in and impersonate innocent appointment-making folks) and it helps to flash several colorful credit cards and also a glimpse of the meticulously balanced checkbook wouldn’t hurt.  But the front desk person usually doesn’t really check to see if it’s balanced.  Thank God.

Step 6:  Wait for your name to be cheerfully called by the Happy Boob Nurse (HBN)  I remember this HBN from 13 months ago because her name ends with an “e” just like my mom’s.  We chatted jovially now, just as then and she showed me the dressing closet, the baby wipes (for removing that pesky deoderant, lotion & perfume) right next to the micro-mini cape that can only ever dream of becoming a full-fleged hospital gown.  Oh and look.  There’s a delusional not at all helpful snap which I completely ignored.  Because really?  In the quest for dignified modesty it’s just a losing battle at this juncture.  I bet the person in charge of sewing those things on just shakes their head and chuckles all day long.

Step 7:  Berating the irritating snap, artfully drape the cotton cape over bare shoulders, pull back the curtain and let the games begin.

Step 8:  Listen intently while HBN instructs you what to hold on to and where to stand while simultaneously engaging you in conversation about the new grocery store, what you do for a living, the kids.  Attempt to answer those questions while a spotlight shines on your untanned flesh which is being hoisted onto a giant thick microscope slide.  Submit to further hoisting, fidgeting, positioning and general kneeding and flattening while wishing there was at least a poster or something to look at over there.

Step 9:  Notice the red outlines on the giant thick microscope slide and wonder, “Are there really people that…uh…make it out to there?” and “Am I supposed to be pointing that direction?”  Decide it’s HBN’s problem not mine and just look away.

Step 10:  Crash course in internal remembrance of Lamaze Breathing as Giant Machinery descends to meet the top of perfectly positioned spotlighted flesh and Keeps.  Moving.  Downward.  AFTERITSURELYSHOULDHAVESTOPPEDBYNOW  ahhh  whew.  One down & one to go.

Step 11:  Curse the stupid NOT helpful snap.  Why do I even have the cape on at this point.  Really.

Step 12:  Oh wait.  Another angle on the same side.    Dayam.

Step 13:  Rinse & repeat on side 2.  Only with no rinsing.

Step 14:  Rejoice that we are done for another year to 13 months.  Smile graciously as HBN cuts off the wrist bracelet and frees you to go.

Step 15:  Curse inwardly, roll eyes outwardly, and fantasize punching that chitty chatty smile away when HBN said, “…unless something presents itself before then…”

Step 16:  Treat self to a full daily allowance serving of dairy in the form of frozen yogurt with do-it yourself toppings as a reward for diligent self-care.

Planes, Trains & What Now? September 21, 2009

Mercy, what a weekend! 

It began with the Comedy Fest that is Office/Parks & Rec/SNL remote control switch-a-thon all while happily snuggling my happy 4 month old friend Harper while her parents attended a mac-daddy rehearsal dinner.

Which brings me to Friday.  My very 1st Virginia Beach wedding.  On the Oceanfront.  Well, in a church AT the Oceanfront.  A beautiful church with beautiful flowers and beautiful music and beautiful people who I already love after only 1 year.  I sat by The NOTMOTB (Neighbor Of The Mother Of The Bride) who was delightfully inappropriately chatty & loud & intentionally dumping out her purse JUST as the church got quiet for the bridal procession which made me chuckle & want to write a book about stuff like this.  We traded breath mints (mine) for kleenex (hers) and bonded over hushed whispers (mine) and not really trying whispers (hers) while the joy of the happy couple was QUITE contagious. 

The reception was on Murry’s Inlet overlooking a beautiful surprise colorful sunset after hours of gray skies just as the boat… You heard me… BOAT idled up to the dock with all 20 members of the wedding party on board.  It was A. (pause)  BOAT.  Like, the kind with couches, a recliner and a coffee table and a dining room table for cryin out loud.  Yeah.  That kind.

One or ten bacon wrapped scallops later, it was time to go upstairs, WHAT???  Upstairs?  For the REAL party.  SUCH fun was had and more bonding.   NOTMOTB was successfully avoided and we had a lovely time with several other couples from our church chatting, dancing, and just plain enjoying the festivities.  No major crisis/youtube worthy events at home in the meantime but we did arrive home around 10:00 p.m. to find 2 Domino’s chocolate lava crunch cake gooey handprints in the driveway. 

Lord only knows the backstory to THAT one.

Saturday 8:00 found us on the soggy football field with a painful loss to the jr. tackle Redskins.

Saturday 1:00 found us on the windy soccer field with a narrow win over Sterling in the U15 State Cup.

Saturday 8:00 p.m. found me driving home the two boyfriends.  YEAH.  BOYFRIENDS of my beautiful middle school daughters.  Then a “Guard Your Heart” lecture for the girls was in order for them AND their girl buds who happened to also be in the car under my authority & wisdom.  Or perceived wisdom. 

Did you know that you can HEAR eyerolling?  You totally can. 

GUARD YOUR HEARTS, ladies.  I mean it.  Or so help me…

Sunday 8:00 a.m.  Hubby & boy to Charlottesville 186 miles away for a tough regular season defeat.  THAT is a long ride home, homies.

also Sunday 8:00 a.m. Girls + Boy marathon church time  followed by marathon TV (VMAs, Emmys, other random Tivo’d items) and a trip to Handel’s for the brave mowing boy & neighbor.

Now I’m headed to the couch to finish The Lost Symbol.  I hear Robert Langdon calling me “Get back in here so I can get out of this mess!”   Then maybe later I’ll go for a swim so I can be proud of myself during Biggest Loser tonight.

Sorry.  Today is NO POINT day.

“Here’s an idea…when you tell a story, have a POINT.  It makes it SO much more INTERESTING for the LISTENER!”

In which she rambles for a while looking for a point by the end of, say, 200 words or so… September 16, 2009

Hi.

It’s a Wednesday.  The day I used to go get all trained up for the Fellowship of Bible Studiers and their tag-along munchkins.

The day that for the last 12 or so weeks has gotten off to a spectacularly Beth Moore-ified start.

The day I sometimes have a big honkin’ staff meeting at the Branch-O-Spring with other battle-weary, wounded healers.

But this particular Wednesday I’m all by my own self.

Well, not completely.  God’s here too.  Hi God!  (wave)

2 days ago, Sis and I were on the beach talking about God.  How the Tony Dungee (sp?) book has been out for about 2 years but she happened to pick it up for the plane ride  from St. Louis to Virginia Beach and lo & behold did our pastor not PUT UP A PPT SLIDE OF THAT VERY SAME 2 YEAR OLD BOOK this past Sunday.  That’s a God moment for her.

Mine was a few weeks ago when I realized I was losing all my 2008-2009 K-1 small group  leaders only to get a list of 6 more all who said “Yes” and did a fab-U-loso job on their first day.   God is so ON it.

Not to mention how He & bro-in-law cooperated so awesomely to bring my sis here for a visit so we could go to the beach while the rest of the world was working or in school.   Don’t hate.

So there’s the point I guess…God is ON it.

***And GLEE is on tonight!***

DON’T stop.  be LEEV in’!

(Git down, girl…go ‘head…git down)

Shameful… September 10, 2009

I know, right?

I can’t believe WordPress hasn’t shut me down for neglect.  If  my blog was a YoVille pet, it would have x eyes.  Which reminds me….

I didn’t even blog the latest birthday in my household on 9/5…3rd kid syndrome.  Saving that post for the actual party day in a few weeks when photos will be aplenty.

So without further ado, here is a Thankful Thursday Top Three:

I’m thankful for the time I had with my sweet Adopted Grandmother/TN Neighbor just days before her  recent departure from this earth into the arms of her Savior.   What a gift it is to walk with someone through normal days and intense ones as well.

I’m thankful for a turbo trip to MI where we were all treated like Rock Stars at the Ridge and in the old neghborhood.  Sis says I made that 13 hour (one-way) trip for the hug I got from Gina.  She’s mostly right.

I’m thankful for new friendships emerging from my summer small group, birthday celebration picnics on the beach, nurf gun wars with the hubbies, and the support that comes from walking through the valley together.

So many more blessings come to mind!  A new puppy, a new school year, new kids in Promiseland K-1, new leaders, new challenges, a new set, new flavors every day at Skinny Dip…life is goooooood.

What are YOU thankful for?

(Besides me blogging again, of course…)

Christopher Bowman Hendrix July 6, 2009

So there I was.  On a Saturday night.  5 days overdue.  Jumping up & down during the commercial breaks of SNL.  Because my sister was getting married 3 states away in less than 2 weeks. 

It worked!

Christopher Bowman Hendrix was born in the wee hours of July 6, 1999. 

He was a busy baby but also pretty content.  He was often bruised due to his adventurous nature.  Before long he was riding a scooter with handlebars higher than his head around York Court.

He was the first 5 year old I had that actually went to Kindergarten.

And 4 years later in the 3rd grade he asked me how to spell his name.

Now he’s a skateboarding, surfing, class clown kinda guy and I’m ever so glad he was born.

Not in dictionary OR thesaurus June 1, 2009

I took my budding rock star daughter to her 2nd guitar lesson last week.  Her instructor has been teaching my hubby to shred somewhat for well over a year now.  He looks like the long lost brother of the WKRP in Cincinnati DJ–Johnny Flytrap?  Whazzizname?  50something rocker complete with ponytail & attitude.  He accidentally stepped in it last time w/my 13 year old daughter by assuming she wanted to play some Jo Bros or Miley. 

Uh. 

No. 

Make that Poison or GnR, please.

“Alroooooight.  Now yer talkin’.”

 

So I walked in with her, reminded him of the No Jonas policy and quick as a snap he hatched a brilliant plan to trick hubby who was coming in later for his lesson.  Well, can I just say, I’m all over that action?

He says he’ll tell Hubby that he found some underground bootleg early cassettes of Poison this week and does he want to try them out?  I say oh.  He’ll fall for that quicker’n you can say “Cici pick up that guitar and Talk Ta Me”

So a few hours later the two rockers-in-training arrive home and hubby is positively bubbling over that he picked up a never-before-heard Poison track and played it througout the whole lesson.  “Kinda blues-y” he says.  I put away groceries and muffle a laugh.  This was better than I expected. 

Meanwhile 13 year old accomplice says, “Dad!  I think I just found that song on YouTube!”  She plays it for him.  He recognizes it “S.O.S.” and immediately feels violated.  FISHED IN!

He said he felt like that scene after Ace Ventura kisses “Einhorn” where he’s plunging his face with a plumber’s helper.

Classic!

Balls: sparkly, splashy and otherwise May 25, 2009

So last week I was 15 minutes early to a lunch meeting and saw a store going out of bizness.  I went in twice in the next few days and “cleaned them out of Baby Jesuses”  by which I mean I got every last sparkly snowflake and 10 light up sparkly balls (glitter, not mirror) for which to decorate the EZ up tent for 5th grade Social Butterfly’s We’re-Done-With-SOL-Testing (random) party.  Older daughter begged a sleepover elsewhere.  Wise, that one.

Behold the beauty!

Also, my big’un scored numerous balls-in-net this weekend, even during the rain.  They won the hole dang tourney.  WhattaStud.

Yesterday at church I had to conference with 2 “helpful” teens “leading” small groups with 5-6-7 year olds.  The one told a kid, “If you take your nametag off then your mom will never come back for you.”  Nice. 

The other one said…to his group of boys…AT CHURCH…where we’re learning about LOVE and KINDNESS and RESPECT  “Only little dumb girls like Star Wars.”  Are.  You.  Kidding.  Me.

Dude.  I’m so firing all my under-20 volunteers.

Today we are bravely hosting some families-with-young-children.  They, too will need to summon the courage because, although  I am determined that no one will frighten them with sarcasm; sadly, we no longer have Kid Toys…and that’s a little terrifying.  We are all about the inappropriate Guitar Hero lyrics up in here as well as dangerous sports like skateboarding in traffic, bicycling with headphones, ripsticking down the front steps, canal swamp-wading and the ever popular break the fence/window with testosterone-induced soccer ball bullets. 

But I think I may go get me a Crazy Daisy and some splashy balls.  Because what’s more fun than unstable spitting foliage and pegging your friend with soggy polyester?

 

.

Alphabetical Gratitude-modified slightly May 23, 2009

Alphatical gratitude is a helpful Anti-depressant I learned from my Adopted G’ma W.  Blessings are all around us at all times, even when we’re Cranky.  This is the Day that the Lord has made…  Everyone I meet today may have something to teach or show me.  Fajitas would be really good right now.  Gratitude is an exercise in discipline.  Health cannot be underestimated…ask the Infirmed.  Just when you think you can’t take another step, God shows his hand.  Krispy Kreme donuts taste best when dropped off at your front door unexpectedly by  Lovely, Mrs. Neighbor who Opts to Pool-the-car Quietly to Rush Soccer practice Twice a week Under Varying degrees of traffic challenges.  When I think about the Wonderful opportunities and Wise co-workers and Wacky family and friends I’m surrounded with I can’t help but be eXtremely humbled and filled with joy Yesterday, today and forever.  Zappos.com 

Amen

Because apparantly I feel the need for a 6th job May 20, 2009

I know, I know, we’re in a recession.  There’s a shortage of jobs out there.

I think it may be my fault.

I can’t stop signing up to do things.  I just came this [ ] close to initiating myself into making thousands daily by becoming a freelance writer in my own home.  For the low low price of a mere $69.95 if you act now.  It was the old ego that caused me to click on the link.  I would write more if people paid me, right?  But I’m not paying them, now;  that would just be nonsense.  Right? 

So, alas, no additional job opportunity for me.

Instead I remain faithfully driving all across Hampton Roads, Virginia Beach, Chesapeake & NAWfik to various and asundry Hardee’s and grading their cashiers, cooks and managers for BOGO sausage biscuits & reimbursement.  Shhh don’t tell…it’s a secret.

AND also driving to numerous public and parochial schools teaching elementary students how to use a pipette.  (SQUEEZE while hovering in the air.  Place into beaker of water.  UNSQUEEZE (I’d like to trademark that word, please) slowly and do not I repeat do NOT squirt your lab partner or pipette go bye bye)).

AND trekking daily  to Spring Branch Community Church to change sets & props so that Macy Mixer can spring to life each weekend and help kids learn about Jesus.

AND long-term substitute teaching Special Ed down the street for the final 2 weeks of school if my fingerprints come back “clean.”  What are the chances of THAT?

AND Pampering Chefs across the neighborhood/city/state/world.  Maybe THIS will motivate me to clean out the pantry?  And cook an actual meal for my OWN family??

Not to mention negotiating referee jobs/babysitting/party planning/event security  for my teens & tweens.

It’s all good in the hood.  Like they say, “If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life.”

Pass the bon bons.  I’ll take “She Works Hard For The Money” for 1000 Alex.