Monthly Archives: June 2007

The Mt. Dew

The Mt. Dew

We went to get milk at Tom Thumb because we’d forgotten it earlier when we were at Central Market. The reason we went back to Tom Thumb to get it (and not Central Market, which has better milk) was because Tom Thumb has 20 oz bottles of Mt. Dew for $1.

Woo-hoo.

Unfortunately, 50% of the time they’re sold out, but Joey still tries just about every time. (Then, when they’re sold out, his morale gets really low and he wilts and walks around talking like Eeyore. It’s really sad.)

Joey had raided his change jar and, with his pockets weighed down with quarters, was ready to go get himself a Mt. Dew.

He ran into the entryway of Tom Thumb, stood in front of the vending machine and fidgeted.

“I can’t do it. I can’t push the button. What if it say sold out?” Joey asked me, hopping nervously back and forth.

“Just push the button.” I said.

He pushed the first button. Sold out.

He pushed the second button.

He pushed the second button again.

“They’re not sold out!” Joey yelled and instantly began digging through his pockets for change, and spilling it all over the floor.

“But, honey, you can’t buy it before you go in the store or you’ll have to buy it twice,” I reasoned.

“Good point.” Joey said, put the quarters back into his pocket and ran into the store. He was a man on a mission. We got the milk, checked out and were back at the vending machine in 5 minutes.

Joey pushed the first button. Sold out.

Joey pushed the second button. Sold out.

“What?!” He wailed, slamming the button over and over again, as though that would miraculously make more Mt. Dew appear.

“Somebody bought the last Mt. Dew while we were in there buying milk!” He wilted as he said this. “Come on. Let’s go home. I don’t need a Mt. Dew.” (Please picture Eeyore saying those last phrases and you’ll be just about spot-on to what Joey sounded like.)

“Give me the keys,” I took them from his limp hand, “I’m driving.”

“It’s OK. I don’t need any Mt. Dew.” He was completely expressionless. This whole going from having a Mt. Dew to not having a Mt. Dew was really throwing him for a loop.

We got into the car and went to two more Tom Thumbs in an effort to find $1 Mt. Dew. There was none to be had, so I finally took him to a 7-Eleven and told him to buy one for $1.29. He was pretty gleeful and happy, so it was all worth it. :)

And the Mt. Dew is gone now, but he’s currently swinging the power cord for the lappy at me and keeps hitting me with it. (I probably shouldn’t have encouraged him to get that Mt. Dew after all, he seems caffinated.)

Confirmed: The Downstairs Neighbor Has A Face

Confirmed: The Downstairs Neighbor Has A Face

There has been some discussion regarding our Downstairs Neighbor. He’s rather mysterious in that he’s barely ever there, he often gets delinquent rent notices stuck to his door (I know this because I read them), has a very dirty balcony, and we’ve never actually seen him.

Until tonight.

We thought he was back because we’d suddenly been smelling this obnoxious, faint cigarette smoke coming up through our kitchen vents.

“Seems like Downstairs Neighbor might be around,” Joey commented.

I concurred. We’re not sure he smokes, but we know our other neighbors and they don’t smoke, so if we smell it we always blame it on Downstairs Neighbor.

But back to the previous discussions regarding Downstairs Neighbor’s face.

We’ve lived here for six months. (Yes, six months!) All we were able to ascertain about Downstairs Neighbor was that he has never fully shut the blinds in his bedroom (a table is leaned up against the window covering the portion that’s not covered by blinds; he probably has no clue they’re not all the way down) and he might have a cat.

I once saw him carrying what appeared to be a cat kennel as he walked away from his apartment. It was then that I first began to question his sanity.

Since the sighting with the cat, we have only seen the back of his head one other time leading us to wonder if he actually has a face.

Joey and I were headed out to buy milk tonight (yes, we forgot it when we went grocery shopping) and as we were walking to the car a youngish sort of man wearing a baseball cap, green t-shirt and geeky/trendy Coke-bottle style glasses was walking towards us. Oh, he was also carrying a Pepsi and a Mountain Dew. (They were 20 ounces and no, I’m not nosy…)

I instantly (and, regrettably, not so subtly) began smacking Joey’s arm and hissing at him. “That’s him! I bet that’s him!”

He sort of shoved his elbow into me to indicate for me to Be Quiet.

We rounded the corner, but not before I had slowed down and looked back to make sure this guy really was Downstairs Neighbor.

“That was him!” I exulted. “I saw him!”

“Yeah,” said Joey, “I couldn’t understand what you were saying.”

“That’s OK.” I said, hoping that if Joey hadn’t understood me then neither had Downstairs Neighbor.

So, regardless of all former doubts and concerns about Downstairs Neighbor, we have confirmed that he exists and he actually has a face.

Whew.

“That’s him! I bet that’s him!”

iPhone

iPhone

So it’s 11:00 p.m. on Friday and I’m at the Apple store. The iPhone was released today and Joey was so excited. So.

He called me at work at least twice with iPhone rumor updates (yay) and subtly hinted that he’d really like to be at NorthPark when they released the iPhone at 6:00p.m. tonight.

So we went.

I got home from work, changed my clothes, grabbed a sandwich and went to the mall to stand on the 2nd floor above the Apple store and watch the Police officers keep the 500 people in line from storming the doors of the store befeore 6:00. It was pretty crazy.

And now that it’s 11:00 p.m. Joey thought he’d have a chance at getting his hands on an iPhone, so here we are at the Knox-Henderson store. I’m falling asleep as I type this.

He’s not buying an iPhone, he just wishes he was. Poor Joey.

Decisions

Decisions

So with the impending detachment of my Decroded Toenail (blood clot and all), I have a decision to make. What am I going to do with it once it falls off?

I have several options, none of which Joey really likes at all.

1.) Put it in a Ziploc and put it in my memory box to show to our children someday
2.) Put it in a Ziploc and mail it to The Kid
3.) Take pictures of it (this one’s difficult because the camera is still stolen)
4.) Frame it

His idea is to just throw it away. (Which I think is boring.)

The thing’s getting really loose and jiggly on the right side, but is still quite attached on the left side, so I figure I have a week or two before it falls off.

I’m taking votes. What do YOU think I should do with it?

Guppy the Puppy

Guppy the Puppy

Every anniversary Joey buys me a Build-A-Bear. (Their stock is listed as one to watch, according to CNBC; just an FYI.) This tradition began on our honeymoon. We were on Navy Pier in Chicago and happened by a Build-A-Bear store. Joey steered me in and said, “Pick one.”

I picked out a velvety, cuddly bear and named him Pierre le Bear. (There were two reasons for this. One, Pierre rhymed with Bear and two, Pierre and Pier sounded a lot a like and we got him at Navy Pier.)

Subsequent Build-A-Bear purchases have been Habit the Rabbit (for our 1st anniversary) and Guppy the Puppy (2nd anniversary). Habit the Rabbit kind of went over like a lead balloon because he had these long ears that had wires in them. He’s currently stuffed in between the shelf and hanger rod in our closet, poking his head out to stare at Joey’s shirts, along with my cow Daisy. (I look at them as Closet Ambience.)

Pierre and Guppy, however, are sitting on our bed.

Perhaps it is not prudent to admit this on the Internet, but I slept with my blanket up until the time that Joey and I got engaged. (I tried giving it up, I really did, but after 22 years it’s a little bit of a challenge.) I forced myself to put it in my baby box the day I got my engagement ring. It was a sad time.

This is the main reason that Joey bought Pierre le Bear for me. He felt sorry for me and my separation from Blankie, and he felt mainly responsible. (He was, actually.)

And so I slept with Pierre le Bear for two years, until he bought me Guppy the Puppy this year. I changed over to Guppy the Puppy because he’s softer, slightly cuter, and more of a novelty since he’s newer.

Last night I was almost asleep when Joey said, “You have Guppy, right?”

“Yeah…” I mumbled.

“Good. Because I don’t want to get beat up in the middle of the night if you discover you don’t have him and you think I do.”

That woke me up. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said, “you’ve been waking up in the middle of the night, saying ‘give me back the dog!’ and then punching me. So then I find it and give it back to you.”

“I do not either do that.” I said; I was awake now.

“Yes, you do. Quite often.” Joey replied.

“Oh. Well, you shouldn’t let me do that!” I exclaimed, “It’s really bad!”

“You’re asleep.” Joey said. “I don’t know what to do except get you the dog. You keep hitting me…” He sort of trailed off.

So I’m not really sure what to do about this one. It looks like I may need to go to Stuffed Dog Detox or something like that, because I appear to be disturbingly addicted to my stuffed animal. (Pops always called those “dolls” when we were kids and that always bothered me. A stuffed animal is not a doll, it is a stuffed animal. Dolls look like smallish people and wear clothes.)

If anyone has any suggestions, I’m sure that Joey would appreciate them. Poor guy, getting punched out in his sleep because I think he’s stolen my stuffed dog.

I definitely have issues.

Apparently more people read this thing than I previously thought. A very enthusiastic “Hi” to Greg L and whoever else from FBC happens reading this. (Perhaps those of you who are as yet unidentified should comment so I know who you are…)

I have been tagged again, only this time by the other Greg. As most of you have probably read the rules in the earlier post, I won’t write them again. For those of you who have not, you can find them here.

I shall commence 8 more facts/random things, however this time I’m sticking to facts. Last time I did random things.

1.) I am short.
2.) Coffee and caffeine make me so hyper anymore that I shake, my heart races, and can’t breathe well.
3.) I have never broken any bones.
4.) I cannot knit, crochet, or embroider.
5.) I’m 24 going on 12, just ask The Kid. (Or my poor husband…)
6.) I like to sing!
7.) I don’t like math but, um, I do math all day. (Funny how that works.)
8.) I’m a homeschool drop-out (a fact that pleases my siblings immensely) but I’m definitely homeschooling my children someday.

Hmm…let’s see…who to tag….

Katie, Mark, Matt, Jenny, Grandpa (?), Kyle, Ally, Michelle

Mom’s Tuesday Poem

Mom’s Tuesday Poem

And, as it’s not likely that one can write a poem about one parent and not the other, this one about Mom oozed out of my brain after writing the one about Pops. It’s not likely that either one is likely to win a Pulitzer for poetry, but perhaps they will make you smile.

My parents, after all, make me smile. :)

Our Mom

We all know that Mom is cute
(And that she even plays the flute!)
But I’ll let you in on a secret…
If you promise not to leak it…

My mom is top-notch!
See, it’s hard for Mommy to get it
That her kids all think she’s a hit,
But for a better mom no one could ask
And trying to find one would be a big task.

Our mommy read us Winnie The Pooh
On afternoons when we had nothing to do,
She took us for walks in the woods
And taught us to sew skirts and hoods.
She made us do chores
So we’d never be bored,
And sometimes we went to Bever Park
Where we saw animals like those on the Ark.

Mom was always teaching us
Important things and not silly stuff,
Like Bible verses, proverbs and what was right
And trusting God, who kept us safe at night.

All these things and many more
Our mom taught her brood of four.

Wild children we turned out to be
As most, I’m sure, would quickly agree,
But I know that I can safely say
That our mom loves us anyway!

Dad’s Motivational Poem

Dad’s Motivational Poem

I was feeling poetic this morning (never a good sign) and so I wrote my Pops this poem. And, as almost everyone needs motivation on Tuesdays, I felt it appropriate.

Dad’s Motivational Poem

Listen up, everybody, I’ve got some news!
My dad’s the greatest;
I’ll give you the latest:

Dad’s got cows and trees with boughs,
Dad fixes planes and likes model trains,
Dad sells land and leases what’s grand,
Dad is smart with mind like a dart,
Dad drives tractors and knows his factors!

And since this is Tuesday
I thought I would say….

I – AM – GLAD
YOU’RE – MY – DAD!
G-o-o-o-o-o-o DAD!

The Turtle Defends Himself

The Turtle Defends Himself

Jamie flew into town this morning and, shortly after she arrived, we decided that our best course of action was to take a walk. Henry was being obnoxious because he was so excited to see Jamie, and we hoped that by walking he’d blow off some steam.

We set out briskly. In order to avoid being hit by cars, we went the long way around the athletic fields and set out on the walking trail. Our object, aside from burning Henry out, was to feed the creepy catfish, ducks, squirrels, and whatever else we found along the way.

About five minutes into our walk, I noticed a turtle who was rather off course. So far off course, in fact, that he was quite far away from the lakes (probably a three hour turtle walk, about 10 minutes for a human) and sitting atop a little rise.

“Jamie! Look! A turtle!” I squeaked and pointed. Henry pulled at the leash in anticipation of smelling the turtle.

“Ohh, cool.” We stood over the turtle for a few moments with Henry sniffing at all the appropriate times.

Jamie bent over to pick up the turtle. “You can make them pass out if you hold them upside down,” she explained. “All amphibians are like that.”

Just as she picked the turtle up off the ground, it began to um, Use The Bathroom all over my foot.

“HEY!” I shrieked, “The turtle’s peeing!”

“Oh.” Jamie set the turtle down. “It’s a defense mechanism.”

“I should say.” I shook my foot off. Henry intently sniffed the ground, analyzing the new smells.

“Let’s try again.” She picked up the turtle (I stepped out of the line of fire this time) and flipped him over onto his back.

He didn’t pass out. He sort of blinked at us in an upside-down sort of way and paddled his little swimmers every so often. Actually, he wasn’t even looking drowsy.

“Um, Jamie?” I said.

“I know, I know, a few more minutes.” We waited.

People walking by were starting to give us odd looks. This is most likely because we were standing there holding a dripping turtle upside down and starting at it.

Jamie sighed. “He’s not passing out.”

“No, I guess not.” I said, as Jamie set the turtle down. Henry bounded over to sniff the turtle again.

For good measure, Jamie picked the turtle up one more time. Immediately he began to “defend himself” (read: go to the bathroom), so Jamie put him back down.

“You know, that first time he got my foot.” I said, as we walked away.

“NO! Really? Sorry, I didn’t see that,” Jamie said.

“Yep.” I answered.

So today I learned two things:
1. Turtles go to the bathroom when you pick them up, so stand clear
2. They’re supposed to pass out if you hold them upside down

Oy

Oy

Why is it that on Saturdays, the day I get to sleep in until 8:00 a.m., I always wake up at 6:00 a.m.!!!

This is beginning to drive me nuts. Here I sit at 6:45 a.m., more awake than I normally am on a weekday at this time, and all I want to do is go back to bed until 8:00 a.m.

So I guess I’ll start on my housewarming loaf of apple bread I was going to make when I got up today. Since I’m up. Early.