A hurricane is comin'! Sort of.

Whenever a hurricane hits now, there is mass panic. Gas stations in Houston along the major freeways see an huge increase in traffic. We are the direct path out of Louisiana, Port Arthur, Beaumont. With the possibility yesterday that Houston could be involved, I went early to fill the Suburban up. The poor, unloved Suburban that spends more time in the driveway of the burned down house than on the road. But, it would be the car of choice should we have to evacuate, considering it would hold kids, dogs, and all our loved possessions, plus pull the trailer. I expected long lines at the gas station. Kenny and I tend to find these things funny. It shouldn't be a big deal. Either get out or don't. The panic is unnecessary. But since SO many people panic, you have to plan according to their behavior. So early to the gas station I went.

No line.

However, there were about 900 people in front of me at Starbucks.

****Later in the day, we had to fill my other car to go to Kenny's cousin's wedding. I went in to get a drink. The attendant said they had sold more gas in that one day than they had all week due to the hurricane. He also said the other shop owned by his company was already out of gas. Ummm....really?

And? I keep telling Kenny, "You know that damn thing is going to change directions and hit Houston, cause they are sending everyone here. And, we decided to leave the dogs behind and bring nothing with us when we pick the kids up from Austin today."

Maybe I won't move, but...

I'm still keeping my distance from some of the neighbors. Although, I have found that I have more supporters out here than I thought.

In an interesting turn, I found out that many of my neighbors have had problems with Holier-Than-Thou Neighbor. Many. In fact, while she was talking to me a THIRD time, another neighbor stood nearby rolling her eyes at everything she said making it hard for me not to laugh. As I thought more about it, I remembered time after time when Holier-Than-Thou told me about the "bad behavior" of the other neighborhood children. How originally her boys had been blamed for something, but she really knew it was another child's fault. Because, of course, her boys would never act like that. How a completely different neighbor needed to get control of their son because he was wild, and it was affecting her daughter. Since she had been nice to me at first, when the others didn't seem so open, I believed her account of events. Now, I am pretty sure it was the same situation as with Jill. I should have known, really. I stand at that bus stop and watch the kids interact. I see her three run wild, out-of-control, never responding to the multiple commands that they stop whatever it was they were doing, and, of course, never really being made to stop. No other child was allowed to do behave the way these three do. I should have known.

Anyone want to buy a house?

I talked to the neighbor. It went not so well this morning. By this afternoon it was worse. She called back. Of course her child is innocent. And her child would never say anything about Jill's dad because they just talked about "the situation" with Jill's dad two days ago. The day before the girl said something to Jill. Now let's all think. Perhaps did you give your child the idea by arming her with the information? Perhaps telling your daughter that would hurt Jill's feelings is the exact reason she said it? But no. Instead, you told me how it was my fault, because you are a Christian and our lifestyle greatly conflicts with yours. And also? How it probably made Jill a little mean because her dad rejected her. Did you just hear yourself, Lady? You claim that your child would never say that, but YOU JUST DID. You taught your kid to say that. And by the way, Jill isn't mean.

I seriously hate this neighborhood. And, being the realtor that I am, I immediately starting looking for another house. Listed for less than we would list ours, much less, is a house with a pool, zoned for Jill's old school, blocks from Emmi's school, right around the corner from Jill's best friend whose mother happens to be one of my really good friends. If Kenny doesn't watch it, I will have this house up for sale before he gets home today.

How would you handle.....

this situation.

On our street we have four second graders. Three girls. One boy. The boy pretty much sticks to himself, cause well, he likes to play boy games and not dress-up or house or dolls. The girls have a power struggle going on. Before we moved in, it was Girl A and Girl B. They played constantly. They did everything together. Then we came along. At first, Jill aligned herself with Girl A, but as time went along, Girl A started showing a different side. She can be quite mean. I have overheard things like, "You are stupid." And, "I am prettier than you." And so on and so forth. Also, Jill and Girl A are both leaders. The Boss. Must be in control. They eventually stopped playing together. Jill played more and more with Girl B. Girl B has been nothing but nice, and Jill and Girl B have become very close friends. From time to time Girl A and Girl B play together. Over the summer, we rarely saw Girl A, and it was not that apparent to Girl A how close Girl B and Jill had become. Then school started.

I watched Jill and Girl B link arms as they climbed onto the bus. Girl A, stood back watching. She was not happy. She felt left out. And it was Jill's fault. Apparently, there has been quite a bit of taunting and teasing on the bus by Girl A. She told the bus that Jill's dad did want her so she had to live with Kenny. She said that it wasn't Jill's choice not to play with her, it was because her mom said she was not allowed at our house. Not true, her mom actually asked me to watch her the other day. Today she told Jill that nobody liked Jill. Jill is not all that phased by it. She basically just asked if I would talk to the bus driver and have her seat switched. She doesn't want a big deal made. She simply does not want to be around the girl. I have taught her that people tend to attack you because of jealousy or hurt feelings. So Jill actually feels sorry for her. She understands that Girl A feels left out because Jill and Girl B are good friends now. However, I am not sure that simply asking the bus driver to allow Jill to sit in another seat is the right idea.

What I wonder is should I say something to the mom? I never know what to do in these situations. If they were four, I would step in. But these are second graders. Is it time to let them resolve it on their own?

Congratulations Tiffer! You're Even Older!

Happy Birthday Tiffany!

Through the years we have celebrated many birthdays together. Most memorable are

The trip to the lake where my asshole of a boyfriend made a bunch of rude comments that ended with me crying in the bathroom, while Ryan sat with a look on his face that said "What the fuck?"

The time I bought you a cake from Marble Slab...mmmm ice cream cake....that you took one bite of and ran for the bathroom. Consequently having to fess up to our boss that, yes, you were preggers.

Or my personal favorite, when I brought my friend from Dallas to Houston to celebrate your birthday. She got so shit-faced drunk that she spent the whole night crying on the phone to her sort-of boyfriend and friend from college to which she said, if I quote correctly, "These bitches are more slutty than I am." Prompted from when she spilled the beans about what a slut she was, and we made some off-hand comment like, "Oh everyone makes mistakes." THAT was a fun night. She really enjoyed the four hour car ride back to Dallas with me...

After that, there was THE BIG FIGHT.

So maybe birthdays don't hold the best memories for us. Not the highlight of our friendship. But that is okay, we have had plenty of awesome memories to balance it all out.

So Tippy, what I want to know is..... will you be my Corolla and Lime? (Corolla...How the hell did I just remember that?! But I crack myself up so much, I am have tears streaming down my face!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFf-PdGdRPY damn, the embedding is being a bitch. Just click the link, cause I have to go wash my hair.

Now, careful. I know you want to jam to this on the Tony, but don't do it. It is dangerous.

Things Bus Driver's Should Not Say

Somehow, it does not garner faith, confidence, and trust in the bus driving abilities of Emmi's driver when she says to me "Can you write down the directions from Neighborhood Over There to your house for me? I keep getting lost." Oh awesome.

Name stealers.

I was reading an article about privacy and pictures and such. And typical of me, I got all paranoid. So I started my every-so-often search to see what could be found out there in the World Wide Web. You can't search my name and find my blog. Why? Cause it isn't listed under my real name. Yes, yes. I use my real first name. But I didn't use my real last name when I set it up. Or my real email address. Or any of that. But what I was looking for today were pictures of my kids associated with their actual names. So I searched. And?

I found tons of Emmis. Just not my Emmi. Three sites/blogs with children ranging in age from 19 months - 28 months, as their parents proclaimed their ages to be. All three named Emmi. One even with my Emmi's middle name. It isn't a usual name. Definitely not the usual spelling. So I got curious and clicked on the links. And ALL THREE were moms who regularly followed Emmi on her website. Often. Commented. Emailed me. One still reads Emmi's website (although, I no longer maintain that one, since I switched to a blog). And instead of feeling like they complimented me by using her name, I feel like they stole it. Big meany name stealers. At least they could have told me. Or something. Although, I know I am just being petty. I don't own the name. But still.

In the words of Emmi, "YELLOW BUS!"

Today is the day I have been looking forward to for so long. Years really. I have dreamt about it. Whole elaborate fantasies. Waiting and waiting. And then suddenly today was here. Today.

The day BOTH of my kids go to school FULL DAY! Ahhhhh....you hear that? That is the sound of peace and quiet. Of me working through the day without anyone screaming for juice boxes or pancakes. Without slammed doors, pulled hair, and pinches.

I love school.

The required "First Day of Second Grade" pic.

Emmi says, "No, I want dance."

It's all relative.

There are days when I think my children are horrible little heathens.

Then I spend time with other people's children, and I realize my kids pretty much kick ass.

Children = Free Labor

My wonderful, dear, sweet children choose every single time we are with Kenny's family to act their worst. Seriously. Today was not unlike any other time. Kenny's mother's birthday party is tomorrow, at our house. His sister and I met up for some grocery shopping. I, fool that I am, actually welcomed the chance to get the kids out of the house this afternoon. They were stir crazy. I didn't want them swimming, getting overly exhausted before this evening. Because tonight? Well, they are going to watch the Cheetah Girls movie premiere at the neighbor's house. Which means five glorious hours while they girls are doing what every other little girl in the nation will be doing tonight....gluing themselves to the television and singing along with those damn Cheetah Girls. Learning every word to every song, so that they may torment us parents for the next several months or until that next High School Musical movie comes out and they can torture us with those songs. I told my children all they had to do was act reasonably sane while we were at the store, and they could go to the party tonight.

But they didn't. Jill has bite marks on her arm from where Emmi bit her after they fought over who got to hold the popcorn. Jill retaliated by knocking Emmi out of the cart. Emmi then psycho attacked Jill complete with screaming and waving arms. I pretended they weren't my children and walked as far away as possible.

I should take away the party. But then I loose my quiet time. My time. So instead, I told them they aren't going, unless they complete a long list of chores (each worth a certain amount to "buy" back their party privilege) and act like sane little children until the party starts. You could say I am a sucker. But I see it as pure genius. Quiet time AND all of the laundry folded.

***Also why the hell does my dog thing the couch is her's, and I am infringing her on space?

In our apartment. Together.

Last night, for reason out of my control, I had to go to the store at the ungodly hour of 9pm. At 9pm, I should be camped up in my PJ's, watching A&E (if The Hills isn't on), eating my contraband dark chocolate. But no. I was at the store, getting not only the groceries I needed for the rest of this week, but enough to get us through next week, as well. Including school lunches. I hate making school lunches. It cuts into my coffee time. Which by the way, I needed. At the store.

I pretty much had the store to myself, which makes me think I should shop more often late at night. The only other shoppers were a couple. My guess is that they were somewhere around twenty. And the girl was pregnant. Or put on weight funny. One or the other. They had obviously just moved in together. How could I tell? Well because every item they put in their cart was discussed along the line of this.

Boy: Grab those blueberry waffles, please.

Girl: Ahhhh. You eat blueberry waffles for breakfast in our new apartment? I didn't know you eat blueberry waffles, since we have never eaten breakfast together in our new apartment that we just moved into. It is so much fun to learn that you eat blueberry waffles for breakfast in our new apartment that we just moved into together since I am knocked up.

By isle three, I wanted to kill her. And I wasn't alone. Boy was even getting annoyed. His responses became things like, "YES I WILL USE TOILET PAPER IN THE FUCKING APARTMENT THAT WE JUST MOVED INTO TOGETHER."

I managed to steer several aisles ahead of them. Peaceful shopping once again. Until the check-out lane. After nine, only ONE lane is open. It happens to be the Express lane. Common sense would tell you that under those conditions, it is okay to have more than 15 items. Girl, obviously, had no common sense. I was almost done checking out, when they walked up to the front.

Girl: What are we going to do? We have, like, fifty items for our new apartment that we just moved into together. How can we buy all fifty of these things for our new apartment that we are cohabitating in, if we can only check out at the Express lane?

At that point, I could not resist. Really. I turned. Smiled. "Oh. After nine you can only buy 15 items at a time. You are going to have to put some of that back." I watched her, waiting for the joke to register, as I myself had a cart full of groceries. It never did. I am sure Boy is still at the store trying to convince her it is okay to buy ALL the items. For their apartment. That they just moved into together. Where they will eat their blueberry waffles. Together. In their apartment.

Chupacabras

For a long time whenever anything goes wrong, I have blamed the chupacabras. "I am late, and I can't find my keys again! I know those damn chupacapras took them." Or when some animal climbed up on our table outside, ate the bag of bird seed, and left a huge pile of poo? Yep. Chupacabra. The missing part to Emmi's CI? Chupacabra. Mostly cause "chupacabra" is a really fun word to say. And also, cause I like to blame someone for all of the little problems in my life. It has been a habit for years.

Then there was this.



And suddenly, I referenced chupacabras in everything. Now even Kenny has joined in with Chupacabra references.

Our dogs like to play a game we have named "Bite Face." They growl, box, and, well, bite each other's faces. Another favorite game is "Who Can Run Down the Stairs the Fastest and Slide the Greatest Distance Through The Dining Room." Last night they started a new game. One would sit down, as if relaxing, the other would walk by, circling closer until *BANG* the game of chase was on. It ended when the chaser caught and pinned the other dog.

"What are they doing?" I looked at Kenny and laughed.

"It's like cops and robbers for dogs. One is the good guy, one is the bad. Except it's 'Dog and Chupacabra.' See Macy is like, 'Okay, now I'll be the dog, and you be the chupacabra.' See Sadie is the chupacabra now."

And with that, Sadie pinned Macy to the ground. Damn chupacabra.

Just a little fit.

Kenny and I were knee deep in thin-set, rushing like crazy to finish the tile on the stupid outdoor kitchen. Yeah. At this point it is stupid. We are tired of working on it. We need this whole weekend to work. But.

One of us needed to stop working around 5:30 in order to get the food ready for the neighbor. It wasn't a good stopping point. Kenny left to take care of the food. I kept working on the tile. It was a big pain in the ass to work on alone. But the food was supposed to be delivered at 6:00pm.

At 6:08, Kenny returned. "They aren't home."

Uh. What? They better be home. We just stopped what we were doing to get their food to them. We just wasted a precious hour of work for that. It is was now raining. I was fuming. I stood in the front yard, washing down the bucket I had been using, when I finally lost it. In front of my other neighbor.

"How fucking rude. Seriously. I HAVE HAD IT. NOT ONE OF THOSE LADIES DID A DAMN THING FOR US WHEN I HAD SURGERY OR WHEN EMMI HAD SURGERY. WE GO OUT OF OUR WAY ON A DAY THAT WAS HORRIBLE FOR US, AND THEY CAN'T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO TELL US IT IS NECESSARY!! I HATE THOSE STUPID BITCHES. THEY TREAT ME LIKE SHIT. THEY TALK DOWN TO ME. AND NOW THIS SHIT." I slammed the bucket down, and stomped off.

Placing Orders.

I know that a certain someone has an issue with me bitching about my neighbors. But well, I don't really fucking care what they think.

My neighbors are at it again. There are certain things I really like about our neighborhood. The amount of playmates for Jill. The way the older children look out for the younger children. The way I know, without a doubt, if there actually was an emergency there would be at least five people willing to help out with the kids. You know, if I blatantly asked. Jumped up and down waving a flag. Set myself on fire. Something along those lines. I am just not on their concern radar. Which is kind of deserved on my part. I don't really try to fit in or hang out or make nice or whatever. I converse at the bus stop. I chat for a minute when the kids together. But I don't show up for the mommy breakfasts or the movie nights or the other activities. Partly, cause I work. And the other part, cause if Kenny is going to watch the kiddos and give me a night of freedom, I am going to hang out with my friends I rarely see. Not the neighbors who tend to make catty comments about me and my age. But that is all besides the point.

One of my neighbors had surgery. Cosmetic surgery. Which is cool. I mean, I want new boobs and all. But it isn't like she has a life threatening illness. Another neighbor set about organizing a schedule for meals to be brought to her and her child (her older child...not young child, mind you) babysat. The same was done for another neighbor when she had surgery last year. Now, when I had surgery, did I even get a, "Hey how you feelin'?" Nope. Nothing. Nor did they offer to help out when Emmi had her skull drilled into. Or you know, any of the other times Emmi has had to go to Texas Children's. Or when I had that little thing....what was it called? Oh yes, cancer. Nope none of those times. We managed. Kenny watched children AND cooked dinner. My mom came to town when needed. Imagine that. I mean, can anyone say "pizza delivery?" So maybe I was being a bitter, when I was approached to help. But really? I just didn't have time this week. None. I am working my tail off this week. Like eighteen hour days. Next weekend we are hosting Kenny's mom's 60th birthday. One where we sort of promised to finish the little construction project in our backyard. The one that has about forty hours of work left to be completed. Plus, quite frankly, I just can't afford to buy food for them. So I said no. To both cooking and babysitting.

Apparently, though no does not mean no. It means maybe. So the next time I was asked, I gave in. I caved. I agreed to bring one meal over. Nothing more, nothing less. As soon as I sighed the word, "Okay," I was briefed on what an acceptable meal was. No casserole. Nothing saucy. Nothing spicy. Preferably a meat, a side dish, and rolls. And they heard Kenny made really good smoked chicken, so that would actually be best to bring over. I looked around. I glanced down at myself. Nope. No apron. No caterers' uniform. For serious? What happened to just graciously accepting what was given to you? Now you get to place orders? At least, I managed to shut the door before I started screaming.

By Thursday, I had calmed down. One meal. I mean it wasn't really that big of a deal. Even though this lady has never so much as said more than "Hi" to me. One meal. My calm peace ended when I turned the corner to see her outside walking, not her dog, but the other neighbor's dog. I rolled down the window. "Oh I see you are feeling better!" She smiled. "I feel great. I can't believe how good I am feeling. I was able to get out of the house a bit today to go out to lunch." I smiled. Perfect. She can get up and about. I am off the hook for the dinner! Lalalala! All that fretting and fuming for nothing. I was a happy camper. I was peachy. The birds were singing.....

Until they called to remind me what time they like to eat.

Free stuff is the best stuff.

Jill had a playdate at a friend's house yesterday. It was her first time over there. They live in one of the newer neighborhoods. Homes about the same size as ours, but built in a time when media rooms were all the rage. Our homes were built just before that fad started. I would say I am jealous, but I hardly ever turn on my TV. What would I do with a dark room and a gigantic, loud TV? Although, a quite, dark room sounds pretty nice.

After playing for awhile, the girls needed a break. And a snack. They headed to the media room, and were given peanut butter sandwiches and popcorn. They were halfway through the movie when I arrived.

"Mommy! Mommy! You are not going to believe this." Jill was more excited that I have ever seen her. "They have a movie theater in their house..."

Uh oh. I don't play this game. I knew I would be explaining for the next three weeks why we couldn't have a movie theater. It would be like that time she went swimming at a friend's house who had a slide into their pool. Our pool sucked ass after that. I got ready for my explanation of why we couldn't have a movie theater, but instead Jill kept going.

"...and Mommy. This part you won't believe. THE POPCORN IS FREE. You just heat it up in the microwave just like we do at home. Free popcorn. In a movie theater." She pursed her lips and gave me this look that clearly said, "beat that."

Treats.

You know. Why is it that my dogs get a treat every time I let them out? They are the ones that needed to go out. I am the one that got up for their benefit, opened the door, stood there while they refused to actually go to the bathroom, yelled their names twenty times while they ran through the flowerbeds and jumped in the pool, then wiped their damn feet off when they finally decided to come back in, all while sweating profusely 'cause it is freaking hot outside now. Then, they sit in the kitchen with their noses pressed to the cabinet, waiting for me to pass out a treat.

Why? What hard work did you do? You played in flowerbeds, went swimming, and refused to come when I called you. Now your asses want treats? Screw that. I deserve the treats. I am putting a jar of chocolates by the back door and rewarding myself everytime I let them out.

Five Hundred Bucks in the Size of a Quarter.

Now this. Geez. But I live a life of luxury, so it should no problem. Right? Ha!

I got me a hater!

i have been reading your blog for a while now and i just cannot believe how much you think of yourself. Nobody else can compare to you and you just think your the sh*t. wow. the wedding that you "weren't" in..the low-life mcdonalds workers..the neighbor...the list goes on and on. Not everyone has the luxury you do, but don't put people down for it. Really, you should find other things to blog about. your not the princess you think you are....

I got this comment today. Uh. Okay you are entitled to your opinion. And quite frankly, I just find it funny that people take the time to post hater comments. But I wonder, do you actually read what I write? Or just scan through it?

'Cause I never once said I was better than anyone. I said I expect people to treat others the way they expect to be treated. If you work at McD's, cool. You probably make about as much as me. Seriously. So you aren't beneath me in any way. But don't treat me like shit because I am a patron of the place where you hate working. THAT, my friend, was the point. NOT that I thought I was better than the people there. The point was I am irritated at people who hate their jobs taking it out on people who are paying money at said place of employment. It happens everywhere.

My neighbors are bitches. I will keep blogging about them. Often. In fact, are you one of my neighbors? Is that why you are so pissy with me? That would make sense.

And? Really, if I bug you so damn much, why on Earth keep reading my blog? I am very curious. I just have to know.

Also, please, when you insult me, use proper grammar. I have this thing about proper grammar. I have a hard time even giving you any credit when you can't capitalize "I" or throw a comma in every now and then.

Last. Yep. I like me a lot. I am glad that comes across in my writing. But, I think anyone that has met me knows that I am a pretty nice person. So I am not really all that worried about what someone who has never met me thinks of me. But thanks for your time!

And everybody look, I finally got my own hater!!! I am SOOO excited!

Amendment: I decided to actually look at my sitemeter today. I rarely check it. I know who my hater is!!! Uh. Creating a fake profile doesn't disguise you. Your computer still has the same IP address, smarty. But I'll give you two points for trying.

It's not my fault you have to work there.

Look, I get it that some people don't have job like me where you sit with your computer in your lap watching the DVR recording of the Olympics while working on three projects at once all while smiling cause, really, your job is cool. Not everyone has that. But what I don't get is why people seem so pissed off when they have to *gasp* do the job they are paid to do.

Andrea and I were having the trip from hell home from Bastrop. The kids were hungry, making for the sixth stop in the past hour of driving. We opted for the McD's drive-thru.

"Can I take your order?" Uh. I guess you can. I am not super sure. Can you? However, you may take my order. And no. I didn't really say that to her. Instead, I said, "Two kids meals with cheeseburgers and lemonade to drink."

"Is that all?"

"No...."

"That will be $5.47."

"Um, I said I had more to order." I looked at Andrea, making a face at her.

"Ma'am please pull forward to the first window." Uh. Wha?? I wasn't done. Is there a limit to how much you can order at once? I was thoroughly confused. At the window, I tried to explain that we weren't done with our order. My explanation is met with eye rolling from not one, but TWO employees waiting for me at the window. One of them starts pushing buttons on the register calling up the screen for our order, the other girl walks off.

"Okay, so we will have two kids meals with cheeseburgers...." I am cut off before I can say more by the one girl left at the window. "Ma'am, I am not the one taking your order, she is." She motions back towards the girl who has walked away. She is? How? From way over there? After shuffling napkin boxes around, Order Taker returns.

I smile politely. Too politely. Mockingly. But she doesn't know that. "When you are ready to take my order, just let me know!" I continue to smile. She says nothing and stares at me. So I sit, smiling while more cars pile into the drive-thru. Still nothing. Finally, she relents. "I am ready." I grin more, "Oh goody, thanks! Two kids meals with cheeseburgers......." She types our order in wrong. And? I make the mistake of telling her that I said cheeseburgers, not nuggets. She mutters something that resembles "Bitch" under her breath which I ignore, because I need those burgers to shut the screaming children up. Her muttering is nothing in comparison. Even though I am not sure how I am being a bitch by expecting to actually get what I order.

After much eye rolling and sighing our bags are finally handed over. Four drinks. Three bags. A stack of napkins good for the next month worth of happy meals. But? No straws. The window is already shut. I wait patiently for someone to notice we are still sitting there. I start dancing around in the car in an attempt to get there attention. It does nothing more than illicit laughter from the occupants of not only my car but the car behind me. Finally, I tap the horn.

Order Taker appears. She does not look happy. Uh-oh.... Her eyes narrow as she slides the window open. "Obviously you need something."

I smile sweetly. "Oh really. Was that obvious by my not driving off and honking? Or was it obvious by the fact that you gave me four drinks with NO straws?"

Dinner date.

Andrea and Madelyn left today. It feels a bit empty in this house. As soon as I get pictures uploaded/developed I will post them.

But now, I am all dressed and ready to go out to dinner. I know. You want to know who I am going to dinner with. Well. Her.

Heading to Bastrop.

I think when I talk to people I feel like I am saying one thing, but everyone is hearing something completely different. Or I will answer a question like, "So and so said they would like to do such and such, what do you think of that idea," with a response of "sounds good." And suddenly, because I agreed that such and such sounded good for so and so, I am involved in somehow. When in reality, I was merely doing a verbal version of smiling and nodding.

On another note, the visit with Andrea and Madelyn is going great! At first Emmi really enjoyed having another baby around. She was no longer the youngest....there was someone to boss around! But the novelty wore off quick, when she suddenly needed to sleep in her crib again after, like, a year of sleeping in a big bed. She spent a good hour last night yelling, "GO 'WAY BABY. GO 'WAY MADELYN!" All while Kenny and I laughed hysterically at her crossing her arms and stomping her foot. It's hard to give merit to a fit that is so damn cute. The rest of the trip has gone great, though. We haven't done a whole lot yet. Being from Kansas City, they don't have Mexican food like we do, so we took her to a place recommended to her by the ex-in-laws. But now it is the weekend, and we can get out and about more. We are headed to Bastrop to see my parents, and show her a little small town Texas. Okay, really it is more of medium town Texas. But, smaller than Houston. Although, "smaller than Houston" pretty much covers everything.

Jill's Other Sister

Tomorrow we are going to have two visitors. For five days. Who, you ask. Well. I will tell you.

Jill's little sister (on her dad's side) and the mom of. Yep. That's what I said. New Little Sis and Mom. I know. I know. Some of you are thinking, awkward. But no. Not so much. We are actually friends. And I am very much so looking forward to spending some time with her and meeting little Madelyn!

Forecasting.

Supposedly there was a hurricane headed for Houston. Kenny and I never like to actually believe them. Cause most of the time they are wrong. But you just never know. And, of course, the one time we don't listen, the damn thing will actually materialize. So we charged the flashlights, filled the water cooler, and moved all the patio furniture to the garage. And really, the umbrella tries to take off in small rainstorms.

I woke up this morning to nothing more than gray skies. The weather forecasters found the one pocket of rain, and stood in it trying to make the situation more dire than it was. They posted pictures of Tropical Storm Allison. Sheri and Daniel remember Allison quite well. ;0 They showed the flooding. The days of rain. They talked about the conditions that caused it, and briefly threw in that we didn't have those conditions this time.

Then, the news warned that the first band of the storm was hitting Houston. It was along Beltway 8. We waited. I stood watching out the back window, as little sprinkles hit the pool. It picked up slightly. Nothing I would call bad. The newscasters hunkered down in rain gear, screaming over the "downpour." Really? It rained worse two weeks ago, people. But they don't want to look stupid for predicting a big, mammoth storm that is producing nothing more than a little sprinkling.

Now supposedly the worst is yet to come. In about thirty minutes. I am stiiiiilllll waiting. I'll let you know if my house blows over.

Chicken jokes.

What I am about to say is wrong. Very wrong. Because someone died. But I just couldn't resist.

Everyday when I sign on to my computer, I check the local news. It always something tragic or depressing. But still. I read it all. Today, I found this article.

HOUSTON -- A man was killed when he tried to cross a freeway on foot, KPRC Local 2 reported.
Houston police said a driver hit the man as he tried to cross the northbound lanes of the North Freeway near Quitman Street at about 12:30 a.m. Sunday.
Police have not said why the man was trying to cross the road.

Ooooo. Oooooo. I know! I know! To get to the other side. Obviously.

Um. Where is my coffee?

Kenny is male. Obviously. Well, at least I think it is obvious. And that, of course, means he only half listens to me. Oh get it off it. I am not just bashing men. It is partly our fault. I mean really, do you think they care when we are all like, "And then she said.....and then I said....and can you believe her? Oh my god." No. They don't. They don't want the play by play of what we gossiped about all day. But if they don't pretend to listen, then we get mad. So they half listen to us. And next thing you know, they half listen to everything we say. Which is twice as much as I listen to Kenny. So really I shouldn't be complaining. But.

"I have a headache today. I took my migraine meds, but it didn't help. I think I need more caffeine," I said in an attempt to justify a trip to Starbucks. Then I realized Kenny was going to the bank. Right by Starbucks. "Bring me home some coffee, and I will love you even more than I do!" I thought he was actually listening when he even asked what kind of drink I wanted.

I figured out I was wrong when two hours later he called to tell me that after the bank he decided to go buy a new phone and check on his workers. And that he would be home in a few more hours.

Oh. And oops. He took the keys to BOTH of my cars. So unless I plan to walk to Starbucks, I ain't gettin' any.