Tonight while the older girls went to the library with their Daddy, Lulu and I ate ice cream.
After the interview, she required a bath.
Valentine assembly during FHE
1 hour ago
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
Memory Monday: My Freshman Year aka All Humiliation, All the Time!
Okay, I lied, it didn't suck that bad.
BUT, someday, when I'm a widely published, I want everyone (who didn't witness it first hand) and my children who think I'm uber-cool, to know that I too, had an awkward phase. And when I say 'awkward', I mean train wreck bad. Yes, my friends, this super sophisticated, cool as a cucumber, smooth under pressure, lady of dignity was a dork. Please. Stop hyperventilating from the shock. (I wrote a post a year and a half ago that describes some of this.)
As I've pondered what to take time to remember for my Monday Memory, several illustrations of my awkwardness came to mind..
Illustration #1: My ambition to become a cheerleader. Not so bad by itself; except I happened to be an enormous klutz. When I decided to try-out the end of my eighth grade year, I'm pretty sure my loved ones were scratching their heads over that one. I didn't exactly fit the bill. Yet, I persisted.
The 11 of us trying out were informed that there were only 7 spots and after practicing for a week, my chances of making the squad were slim at best. But I persisted. On the day before the tryouts we drew numbers to determine the order in which we would give our self created routines, otherwise known as my one-woman-freak-show. I drew #1....of course. I came up with this nifty little number that included lots of arm flailing and a couple of random kicks to me bellowing out every other rhyming word. Add to that my tendency to speed up when I'm nervous, I basically looked like I was trying to recite Doctor Suess while seizing.
I was greeted with blank stares and the sound of crickets.
Illustration #2: Miraculously, I made the squad. (Here's where I should mention that we ALL made it. Seriously, I'm not being modest. It was really that bad.) During the following summer, I received a crash course on all things 'cheerleader' and basically faked it; but by the beginning of football season, I was beginning to feel a little more confidant.
It was customary for the cheerleaders to wear their uniforms to school on the day of a football game. On one particular day, I was in the hall waiting for class when one of my classmates was waiting for his to start. He happened to be on the football team and being that I can't stand dead air, I struck up a conversation. Which eventually came to discussing creating cheers and Juan encouraged me to come up with an impromptu cheer for him. This is pretty much how the following train wreck went down...
Thinking to myself..."Hmmm, how do I spell his name?"
Okay. Ready. (More Arm Flailing, a little more deliberate this time since I sort of knew what I was doing.)
"Go, Fight, Win! G-o-o-o-o-o-o-o Juan! W-O-N!"
Juan, (blank stare again) "That's not how you spell my name."
Me, "Oh. sorry."
Awkward.
Illustration #3: Needs no explanation. My favorite outfit when I wasn't wearing my uniform was the following:
zebra print cut off cotton pants
coordinating tee-shirt with wild life on the front. The wild life were cartoon red. and neon blue...gosh, that's special.
I wore that in public. A lot.
Lastly, Illustration #4: My mother had a neighbor who loved to mess with my hair. After she destroyed my hair with a really bad perm and then themed my next hair cut to the cartoon "Duck Tails" (she thought it was adorable that my hair looked like the butt of a duck) I took matters into my own hands.
My mother cautioned me about the dangers of having split ends and regularly advised me to give my hair a deep conditioning. Then one day, as I wondered around the local PX, I came across a hair product designed for African American hair. I'm not a label reader. All I knew was that the lady on the front had a beautiful mane of hair obviously split-end free. I snagged it up in a hurry, ran home and prepared to 'deep condition' the split ends out of my hair. The first thing I noticed when I opened the jar was that it resembled Vaseline. That didn't stop me from applying approximately half the jar onto my head. I wrapped my hair in Saran Wrap and 'conditioned' for 20 minutes. After which I rinsed it out.
Only, it didn't come out.
I rinsed it again. and again. No luck.
By this time I started to panic. I enlisted my mother's help and she proceeded to rinse my hair with vinegar and raw egg. This basically amounted to me having plastic hair AND smelling like potato salad. To add insult to injury, she made me go to school the next day...and every day after that for the three weeks it took to get the stuff out of my hair.
I was mortified by the thought that someone would notice and make fun of me. Strangely, only my closest friends who knew what I did said anything. Perhaps people were scared that I'd fashion a weapon out my pliable hair and stab them with it. It remains a mystery.
Amazingly, even with these and other equally mortifying experiences, I made it through ninth grade. I even eventually ended high school as a mostly coordinated cheerleader. Isn't it funny how those moments when we think we are actually going to die of embarrassment, we don't? Even better is 20 years later when you realize those moments actually made life interesting...and dare I say...fun?
BUT, someday, when I'm a widely published, I want everyone (who didn't witness it first hand) and my children who think I'm uber-cool, to know that I too, had an awkward phase. And when I say 'awkward', I mean train wreck bad. Yes, my friends, this super sophisticated, cool as a cucumber, smooth under pressure, lady of dignity was a dork. Please. Stop hyperventilating from the shock. (I wrote a post a year and a half ago that describes some of this.)
As I've pondered what to take time to remember for my Monday Memory, several illustrations of my awkwardness came to mind..
Illustration #1: My ambition to become a cheerleader. Not so bad by itself; except I happened to be an enormous klutz. When I decided to try-out the end of my eighth grade year, I'm pretty sure my loved ones were scratching their heads over that one. I didn't exactly fit the bill. Yet, I persisted.
The 11 of us trying out were informed that there were only 7 spots and after practicing for a week, my chances of making the squad were slim at best. But I persisted. On the day before the tryouts we drew numbers to determine the order in which we would give our self created routines, otherwise known as my one-woman-freak-show. I drew #1....of course. I came up with this nifty little number that included lots of arm flailing and a couple of random kicks to me bellowing out every other rhyming word. Add to that my tendency to speed up when I'm nervous, I basically looked like I was trying to recite Doctor Suess while seizing.
I was greeted with blank stares and the sound of crickets.
Illustration #2: Miraculously, I made the squad. (Here's where I should mention that we ALL made it. Seriously, I'm not being modest. It was really that bad.) During the following summer, I received a crash course on all things 'cheerleader' and basically faked it; but by the beginning of football season, I was beginning to feel a little more confidant.
It was customary for the cheerleaders to wear their uniforms to school on the day of a football game. On one particular day, I was in the hall waiting for class when one of my classmates was waiting for his to start. He happened to be on the football team and being that I can't stand dead air, I struck up a conversation. Which eventually came to discussing creating cheers and Juan encouraged me to come up with an impromptu cheer for him. This is pretty much how the following train wreck went down...
Thinking to myself..."Hmmm, how do I spell his name?"Okay. Ready. (More Arm Flailing, a little more deliberate this time since I sort of knew what I was doing.)
"Go, Fight, Win! G-o-o-o-o-o-o-o Juan! W-O-N!"
Juan, (blank stare again) "That's not how you spell my name."
Me, "Oh. sorry."
Awkward.
Illustration #3: Needs no explanation. My favorite outfit when I wasn't wearing my uniform was the following:
zebra print cut off cotton pants
coordinating tee-shirt with wild life on the front. The wild life were cartoon red. and neon blue...gosh, that's special.
I wore that in public. A lot.
How's this one for high fashion?
My mother cautioned me about the dangers of having split ends and regularly advised me to give my hair a deep conditioning. Then one day, as I wondered around the local PX, I came across a hair product designed for African American hair. I'm not a label reader. All I knew was that the lady on the front had a beautiful mane of hair obviously split-end free. I snagged it up in a hurry, ran home and prepared to 'deep condition' the split ends out of my hair. The first thing I noticed when I opened the jar was that it resembled Vaseline. That didn't stop me from applying approximately half the jar onto my head. I wrapped my hair in Saran Wrap and 'conditioned' for 20 minutes. After which I rinsed it out.
Only, it didn't come out.
I rinsed it again. and again. No luck.
By this time I started to panic. I enlisted my mother's help and she proceeded to rinse my hair with vinegar and raw egg. This basically amounted to me having plastic hair AND smelling like potato salad. To add insult to injury, she made me go to school the next day...and every day after that for the three weeks it took to get the stuff out of my hair.
I was mortified by the thought that someone would notice and make fun of me. Strangely, only my closest friends who knew what I did said anything. Perhaps people were scared that I'd fashion a weapon out my pliable hair and stab them with it. It remains a mystery.
Amazingly, even with these and other equally mortifying experiences, I made it through ninth grade. I even eventually ended high school as a mostly coordinated cheerleader. Isn't it funny how those moments when we think we are actually going to die of embarrassment, we don't? Even better is 20 years later when you realize those moments actually made life interesting...and dare I say...fun?
It's nice to know that now, I'm much more dignified.
Friday, January 29, 2010
The Very Best of Men...
Tonight I join, what I am safe in saying, thousands of heartbroken people mourning the passing of a mutual and beloved friend. Bruce Evans, who has truly been a brilliant light unto the world, has battled cancer for the past year. We've prayed, shed tears and ached for his beautiful family for months, petitioning the Lord to grant him and them all strength and peace. No matter how grim the prognosis has been throughout the past months, the news is still breathtaking.
My heart aches.
It aches for beautiful, radiant Connie. The very thought of her loneliness right now is crushing.
It aches for his children; all of whom are very aware of just how amazing their father is.
I say 'is' because I believe wholeheartedly in life after this one, that the promise that we'll be together as forever families when we are sealed in the temple is true. And that he is an incredible example of a life worthy of such a promise.
Bruce and Connie moved to our home town of Dugway, Utah around 1993. They were immediately adored by the community, as people with that kind of sparkle do and they quickly became assets to the community and our church congregation. Shortly afterward, he was called to be the bishop of our LDS ward.
He and Connie had indelible impacts on many of us as teenagers. I have siblings and siblings-in-law who attribute many of their good choices to Bruce and Connie's example. More personally, he and Connie helped me decide who I wanted to be. They showed me a virtuous and lovely example of the kind of marriage I could have someday and taught me so much about how to be worthy of one.
Upon meeting Bruce, he left us with the impression of unquestionable devotion for Connie. Likewise, Connie's love for him was equally obvious. Together, they taught us, that love like this is real, precious and can not possibly be fabricated.
As Bishop, Bruce was a force for great good.
He always showed us a great deal of love and compassion. He served with power, cheerfulness and an ever protective arm. In fact, as gentle and kind as he was to all of us, I remember his commanding presence. When I envision Captain Moroni, I envision him. Although it was doubtful anyone of us could ever incur his wrath we knew that no one had better mess with any of us because whoever did, would have him to deal with. He made us feel safe.
One of my favorite memories of Bruce is when He-Man, my best friend, Heather and I were 'orphaned' during our LDS pioneer trek during youth conference in the summer of 1994. As is the custom in many areas, we were recreating the Mormon Pioneer Trek west. During this time, both our 'parents' became ill and had to leave the 3 day activity. We were alone.
I will never forget the cheerfulness in which he grabbed our handcart and began walking with us. He sang to us when we were discouraged. He laughed with us. He cheered with us. He was there when I felt that first sacred, beautiful feeling of real love for the boy who would become my husband.
The time Bruce and Connie lived in Dugway was short, but their impact ever lasting upon the hearts and lives of those of us who love them. They are forever friends to so many. As years past and lives have gone on, they've been the kind of people you could catch up with on any given day, as if no time had past.
Bruce Evans passed from this life peacefully, surrounded by the people he loves the most. There's a certain peace in knowing this. I'm so sad for the tears that are being shed and the many more that will come. Yet, I know that his family will see him again. He and Connie, beautiful, amazing Connie, are sealed for time and eternity. I know this in part because this very thing is something Bishop Evans instilled in me.
May I live in a way that would truly bare witness to God's simple and beautiful truths, such as the way Bruce has conducted his life.
To the reader of this blog entry, please pray for this sweet family. Please.
Life is too short not to say I love you. So I'm saying it now. I love you.
My heart aches.
It aches for beautiful, radiant Connie. The very thought of her loneliness right now is crushing.
It aches for his children; all of whom are very aware of just how amazing their father is.
I say 'is' because I believe wholeheartedly in life after this one, that the promise that we'll be together as forever families when we are sealed in the temple is true. And that he is an incredible example of a life worthy of such a promise.
Bruce and Connie moved to our home town of Dugway, Utah around 1993. They were immediately adored by the community, as people with that kind of sparkle do and they quickly became assets to the community and our church congregation. Shortly afterward, he was called to be the bishop of our LDS ward.
He and Connie had indelible impacts on many of us as teenagers. I have siblings and siblings-in-law who attribute many of their good choices to Bruce and Connie's example. More personally, he and Connie helped me decide who I wanted to be. They showed me a virtuous and lovely example of the kind of marriage I could have someday and taught me so much about how to be worthy of one.
Upon meeting Bruce, he left us with the impression of unquestionable devotion for Connie. Likewise, Connie's love for him was equally obvious. Together, they taught us, that love like this is real, precious and can not possibly be fabricated.
As Bishop, Bruce was a force for great good.
He always showed us a great deal of love and compassion. He served with power, cheerfulness and an ever protective arm. In fact, as gentle and kind as he was to all of us, I remember his commanding presence. When I envision Captain Moroni, I envision him. Although it was doubtful anyone of us could ever incur his wrath we knew that no one had better mess with any of us because whoever did, would have him to deal with. He made us feel safe.
One of my favorite memories of Bruce is when He-Man, my best friend, Heather and I were 'orphaned' during our LDS pioneer trek during youth conference in the summer of 1994. As is the custom in many areas, we were recreating the Mormon Pioneer Trek west. During this time, both our 'parents' became ill and had to leave the 3 day activity. We were alone.
I will never forget the cheerfulness in which he grabbed our handcart and began walking with us. He sang to us when we were discouraged. He laughed with us. He cheered with us. He was there when I felt that first sacred, beautiful feeling of real love for the boy who would become my husband.
The time Bruce and Connie lived in Dugway was short, but their impact ever lasting upon the hearts and lives of those of us who love them. They are forever friends to so many. As years past and lives have gone on, they've been the kind of people you could catch up with on any given day, as if no time had past.
Bruce Evans passed from this life peacefully, surrounded by the people he loves the most. There's a certain peace in knowing this. I'm so sad for the tears that are being shed and the many more that will come. Yet, I know that his family will see him again. He and Connie, beautiful, amazing Connie, are sealed for time and eternity. I know this in part because this very thing is something Bishop Evans instilled in me.
May I live in a way that would truly bare witness to God's simple and beautiful truths, such as the way Bruce has conducted his life.
To the reader of this blog entry, please pray for this sweet family. Please.
Life is too short not to say I love you. So I'm saying it now. I love you.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Alright, Alright, I'll do it!
Do you remember those cartoons where the characters get hit over the head with a frying pan and it makes the sound, "B-OOOOOO-NNNN-G"? Then because they haven't learned anything they go in for more and get smooshed by an ACME (whatever that is) truck. Of course, if you're like me and make like Wylie E Coyote, you go in another time and get clobbered by a huge air born mallet that came out of no-where, which results in an enormous goose egg and missing teeth.
I'm happy to report I'm coming out of this latest experience with all my teeth. But I'm sure I have that very telling, 'deer in the headlights' expression. Let me explain...
He-Man and I have, after being dragged kicking and screaming, decided to home school our children. Don't get me wrong. Many of the most amazing women I know successfully home school their children (yes, I'm talking about you, Kelley, Desiree and Abby). They're raising beautiful, confident and socially adept children. I guess I've just always had the fear that my kids are going to be the ones who stand in the corner at social functions, picking their nose and wiping it on the wall. All the education in the world's not going to do you a lick of good if no one wants to shake your hand.
Anyway, back to the present. I've been ignoring that sick feeling I've had that something is off right now. I've pushed aside the looks of terror Bunny gives me as the bus driver has to literally pick her up off the ground to get her on the bus. I've tried to shrug off the stomach aches and complaints both my children have given me as we've prepared for the nearly 1 mile trip to the bus stop.
Tuesday night, we hunkered down, after identifying the problem and beating the dead horse for days, we made the decision and acted upon it. Amazingly enough, I felt as light as a feather after months of feeling so worried and weighed down. I then did what I do when I need to process. I went for a run. A good, hard core run. After that, my resolve was set. I am doing the right thing.
Being a person who firmly believes in divine personal revelation, having prayed very fervently for an answer, the response I got is all I need to act. So, I have about a billion points of interest swimming in my head and must present them in order to organize myself. Bloggers, please feel free to input...
*Even before we got here, we'd been warned by several people that the school district is REALLY lacking. Even He-Man's boss (who is a mainstream doctor and a military commander) warned us and encouraged us to consider home school. Since the district scored so poorly on testing years back, they've resolved their failings with all day kindergarten, loads of homework, less recess and greater pressure for test performance. Maybe this works, but since my kids are already stressed out right now, it's translated into daily meltdowns and they are not pretty.
*I'm really hesitant to give up my one on two time with Lulu and Reeses. We're having a good time right now. Besides, Lulu's daily path of destruction keeps me busy enough during the day. Seriously, how on earth can she empty that much nail polish so quickly?!
*I'm surrounded by families in our neighborhood and church members whose experiences are very positive in this school district. That has given me justification that everything's fine the way it is...But really it's not. At least for us right now. The girls are REALLY struggling. Completely aside from the fact the girls have good teachers, they are hurting and need me. Period. Another reason that makes what we're doing enough.
*Sunshine is a very strong child, certainly destined for greatness. She can debate like a pro (she gets that from her Daddy) One of the best things for her being in school is learning tolerance, patience for others and realizing that she is NOT the boss. I don't want to teach her that if she's unhappy with the dynamics of a group of personalities, she can just leave the situation. I'm not sure how we are going to work this out, but since this is the right course of action, it will work out.
*I'm excited about the prospect of adventure. I want to go on field trips, teach my kids how to cook, explore the local history, etc. He-Man and I drove to Saint Augustine's the other night...it was magical! I want to take my kids there, to explore the oldest town in America, to do grave rubbings, to walk the historic beaches. I want to take a day trip to Savannah and patronize the 'Gone With The Wind" museum...sigh!
*The best part of this is that we'll be around each other all the time. The worst part of this is we'll be around each other the time.
*Once I realized that this decision doesn't have to be permanent, I stopped feeling so much pressure. We'll just keep revisiting this every year.
Okay, now that I've covered the big ones, I'm suddenly tired. Look at me!! I can't even write about it without being exhausted! Sheesh!
I'm happy to report I'm coming out of this latest experience with all my teeth. But I'm sure I have that very telling, 'deer in the headlights' expression. Let me explain...
He-Man and I have, after being dragged kicking and screaming, decided to home school our children. Don't get me wrong. Many of the most amazing women I know successfully home school their children (yes, I'm talking about you, Kelley, Desiree and Abby). They're raising beautiful, confident and socially adept children. I guess I've just always had the fear that my kids are going to be the ones who stand in the corner at social functions, picking their nose and wiping it on the wall. All the education in the world's not going to do you a lick of good if no one wants to shake your hand.
Anyway, back to the present. I've been ignoring that sick feeling I've had that something is off right now. I've pushed aside the looks of terror Bunny gives me as the bus driver has to literally pick her up off the ground to get her on the bus. I've tried to shrug off the stomach aches and complaints both my children have given me as we've prepared for the nearly 1 mile trip to the bus stop.
Tuesday night, we hunkered down, after identifying the problem and beating the dead horse for days, we made the decision and acted upon it. Amazingly enough, I felt as light as a feather after months of feeling so worried and weighed down. I then did what I do when I need to process. I went for a run. A good, hard core run. After that, my resolve was set. I am doing the right thing.
Being a person who firmly believes in divine personal revelation, having prayed very fervently for an answer, the response I got is all I need to act. So, I have about a billion points of interest swimming in my head and must present them in order to organize myself. Bloggers, please feel free to input...
*Even before we got here, we'd been warned by several people that the school district is REALLY lacking. Even He-Man's boss (who is a mainstream doctor and a military commander) warned us and encouraged us to consider home school. Since the district scored so poorly on testing years back, they've resolved their failings with all day kindergarten, loads of homework, less recess and greater pressure for test performance. Maybe this works, but since my kids are already stressed out right now, it's translated into daily meltdowns and they are not pretty.
*I'm really hesitant to give up my one on two time with Lulu and Reeses. We're having a good time right now. Besides, Lulu's daily path of destruction keeps me busy enough during the day. Seriously, how on earth can she empty that much nail polish so quickly?!
*I'm surrounded by families in our neighborhood and church members whose experiences are very positive in this school district. That has given me justification that everything's fine the way it is...But really it's not. At least for us right now. The girls are REALLY struggling. Completely aside from the fact the girls have good teachers, they are hurting and need me. Period. Another reason that makes what we're doing enough.
*Sunshine is a very strong child, certainly destined for greatness. She can debate like a pro (she gets that from her Daddy) One of the best things for her being in school is learning tolerance, patience for others and realizing that she is NOT the boss. I don't want to teach her that if she's unhappy with the dynamics of a group of personalities, she can just leave the situation. I'm not sure how we are going to work this out, but since this is the right course of action, it will work out.
*I'm excited about the prospect of adventure. I want to go on field trips, teach my kids how to cook, explore the local history, etc. He-Man and I drove to Saint Augustine's the other night...it was magical! I want to take my kids there, to explore the oldest town in America, to do grave rubbings, to walk the historic beaches. I want to take a day trip to Savannah and patronize the 'Gone With The Wind" museum...sigh!
*The best part of this is that we'll be around each other all the time. The worst part of this is we'll be around each other the time.
*Once I realized that this decision doesn't have to be permanent, I stopped feeling so much pressure. We'll just keep revisiting this every year.
Okay, now that I've covered the big ones, I'm suddenly tired. Look at me!! I can't even write about it without being exhausted! Sheesh!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
A Creepy Crawly Day...
Eight-Legged Freaks
"M-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-M!" screamed our five year old Bunny, "There are a bunch of cockroaches crawling all over the coffee table!"
"WHAT?! I screamed. My immediate urge was throw up then take a shower.
*I have just recently decided that cockroaches are the most disgusting, vile and dysfunctional creatures on the planet. He-Man kills them for me if we ever see them...and with the freezing weather recently, it seems that all sorts of little visitors have been popping up in the house. The problem is, he tends to use my shoes to carry out the execution order.
I've also decided that only Disney could possibly make cockroaches cute. Although, I'm not even sure watching WALL-E again is going to redeem them.
Turns out, they weren't cockroaches. They were tiny little spiders from an egg that hatched somewhere around there. Gross. My skin is still crawling. Even after vacuuming I can't find where the egg was
Ants
We have an ant problem. The past tenants, who I continue to try to have happy, heartwarming feelings towards, (when I succeed, I let you know with a list of good qualities I'm sure they possess) left disgusting messes in the cupboards which included left over food, crumbs and sticky stuff. This, of course, was basically an announcement to the massive ant population of the greater metropolitan area that there was an on going kegger at our house. While I clean up the messes I find, I still keep finding more and more makeshift flyers for the feast.
Last night we put out ant bait. This morning, I went to hide it away from curious hands only to find hundreds of ants gathered around it, in what I can only assume was their makeshift disco ball.
Fuzzy Whatever It Is
We have an Easter box that has recently been an emitting a certain earthy, rotten smell. I first noticed it when we were preparing for our move and organizing our rubbermaids and again when we got here and organized them in their new closet.
Last night, I pulled out the box again to retrieve some Valentines and was bowled over by the smell. I think it must've magnified by 10 since we last opened it. After a brief inspection that turned up nothing I thought it would be prudent to air it out and leave the box open in the office. Which only incited reactions such as:
"Ewwww! What is that smell?!"
"Mom! RP has a stinky diaper...I think."
"Gross, Mom! Was that you?!"
Finally, I dived in and took a closer look...er, sniff. Note to self and anyone reading this: NEVER make the choice to inhale deeply when elbow deep in suspect Easter supplies from years past. After investigating the baskets, left over grass and decor, I opened up the reusable plastic eggs...and there, nestled in pile was a black, fuzzy and horribly stinky something. I have no idea what it was. All I know is that it got on my hand!
Sheesh! I think I'm going to sleep with the lights ON tonight.
"M-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-M!" screamed our five year old Bunny, "There are a bunch of cockroaches crawling all over the coffee table!"
"WHAT?! I screamed. My immediate urge was throw up then take a shower.
*I have just recently decided that cockroaches are the most disgusting, vile and dysfunctional creatures on the planet. He-Man kills them for me if we ever see them...and with the freezing weather recently, it seems that all sorts of little visitors have been popping up in the house. The problem is, he tends to use my shoes to carry out the execution order.
I've also decided that only Disney could possibly make cockroaches cute. Although, I'm not even sure watching WALL-E again is going to redeem them.
Turns out, they weren't cockroaches. They were tiny little spiders from an egg that hatched somewhere around there. Gross. My skin is still crawling. Even after vacuuming I can't find where the egg was
Ants
We have an ant problem. The past tenants, who I continue to try to have happy, heartwarming feelings towards, (when I succeed, I let you know with a list of good qualities I'm sure they possess) left disgusting messes in the cupboards which included left over food, crumbs and sticky stuff. This, of course, was basically an announcement to the massive ant population of the greater metropolitan area that there was an on going kegger at our house. While I clean up the messes I find, I still keep finding more and more makeshift flyers for the feast.
Last night we put out ant bait. This morning, I went to hide it away from curious hands only to find hundreds of ants gathered around it, in what I can only assume was their makeshift disco ball.
Fuzzy Whatever It Is
We have an Easter box that has recently been an emitting a certain earthy, rotten smell. I first noticed it when we were preparing for our move and organizing our rubbermaids and again when we got here and organized them in their new closet.
Last night, I pulled out the box again to retrieve some Valentines and was bowled over by the smell. I think it must've magnified by 10 since we last opened it. After a brief inspection that turned up nothing I thought it would be prudent to air it out and leave the box open in the office. Which only incited reactions such as:
"Ewwww! What is that smell?!"
"Mom! RP has a stinky diaper...I think."
"Gross, Mom! Was that you?!"
Finally, I dived in and took a closer look...er, sniff. Note to self and anyone reading this: NEVER make the choice to inhale deeply when elbow deep in suspect Easter supplies from years past. After investigating the baskets, left over grass and decor, I opened up the reusable plastic eggs...and there, nestled in pile was a black, fuzzy and horribly stinky something. I have no idea what it was. All I know is that it got on my hand!
Sheesh! I think I'm going to sleep with the lights ON tonight.
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