What 8 inches of rain does to a pool.

And to think people pay money for a lagoon style pool. Pwah. Look at me. I got one for free while I slept not slept because the thunder was too loud.

As evidenced by the hot tub, the pool really was blue at the start of this.

And don't you worry about Gnomie. He weathered the storm just fine. He just kicked back, enjoyed himself a Gatorade, albeit probably spiked. You know how those gnomes are.

It would have been nice if he would have left a little spiked punch for me. It is bound to be a fun day with the schools closed and more rain to come.

Is it okay to tell seven-year-olds to shut their trap?

Anyone want to guess how much I want to smack my neighbor's kid when she comes over here spouting off about how many people are dying in Mexico from the "pig sickness," when Jill's father is currently in Mexico RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE. You know, the very reason, I have kept Jill away from the TV. Thanks, kid. And when I said, "Jill you shouldn't worry about," perhaps you should shut your trap and not say, "I hope your dad doesn't get it."

Stupid Questions

Next year, Emmi will be a big Kindergartners. It is kind of a big deal. And then again, it is kind of not. She has been at the same school for three years now. Next year, she will have the same teacher that she currently attends large group and centers with now. So you know, it is almost nothing. Except, it is kindergarten.

And, of course, when the school announced there would be a walking tour and question session for parents of future kindergartners, Kenny and I made plans to attend. I didn't really expect to learn much more than I already knew. Except, I did. I learned a lot. I learned that the other parents are stupid, because they asked questions like...

"Are the portable buildings air conditioned?" Uh no. They send kids out to metal buildings in August in Houston with no air conditioning. For fun, they pack thirty of them in there at once.

"Do the Kindergartners get dropped off at the bus stops first, or do they have to ride home with the other kids?" Yeah, lady. They first make the rounds for the kinder kids, then they come back to the same exact stop to let off the first through fifth graders. 'Cause that is efficient.

"What happens if you see a child that is lost in the halls?" They leave them there. The best part is every piles into the office to watch on the cameras to see how long it will take the lost kid to find his way back to class. Bets are placed.

You know, I have always heard there is no such thing as a stupid question, but I am not so sure about that.

A new gym buddy

I need to go to the gym. I have no motivation. My upcoming wedding should be motivation, but it isn't. I need a gym buddy. I saw an ad online yesterday for a service that pairs you with a gym buddy. Kind of like online dating, but sweatier. I don't think I am that desperate yet. Yet.

If I get there, I think my ad will read something like this.

Hi, my name is Tricia. I really enjoy syncing my ipod to yours, so that we can dance together on the treadmills. I am good at the robot, even at high speeds. Ask my old gym buddy. I have included her as a reference. It is the least she can do, since she up and moved and screwed me out of a gym buddy (Tiffany, I am talking to you). Since I am competitive, I will need to outrun you. I will also need to look better than you while doing so. So please, run slow for only fifteen minutes, and make it look like it hurts. During the summer, "working out" will be code word for sitting by the pool while using the free child care for the maximum allotted two hours. My new gym buddy will need to be proficient in lying to children. You should be comfortable with phrases such as, "My hair is not wet from swimming. I just sweat a lot when I run." I also enjoy a cold drink from Starbucks after a hard workout. I justify this, because I once read a study that caffeine eases muscle soreness. I am looking for a partner that is happy to join along on a Starbucks run. Dancing in the car on the ride is mandatory, however, I will give you radio control. In conclusion, if anyone is interested in a sometimes working out, goofy dancing, coffee loving, liar then I am just the gym buddy for you!

What Santa Does in His Down Time.

Yesterday, after dying Easter eggs and discussing egg hunt details, Jill revealed that she didn't really believe in the Easter bunny anymore. I figured this much, as she long ago told me the tooth fairy must be the mom and dads. Fairies don't exist, afterall. I figured she was really just playing along with the whole Easter bunny thing, so I wasn't shocked when she told me her theory that the Easter bunny was not real.

"You know, I don't think there really is an Easter bunny," she said matter-of-factly.

I answered her with a question, testing exactly how much she knew. "Well then, if there is no Easter bunny, who do you think delivers the Easter baskets?"

She thought for a minute. "It's just someone dressed up like a bunny."

At that point, I knew the gig was up. She was on to us. "Okay, Jill, so who do you think it is dressed up like a bunny?"

Her eyes lit up. "SANTA CLAUS!"

Oh. Yes. Obviously. I mean, the Christmas rush has long since passed, so he has some down time.

Beeeep Beeeeep Beeeeep

That's the sound of my busy signal. I will return later. When I can think straight. Right now, I am running around like crazy, and slightly sick. And did I mention potentially changing our entire wedding plans, because Kenny and decided the other plans just weren't quite us? And it was a lot of money to not quite be into something. So my head is spinning either from all the stuff I am doing or from the sickness.

If you get more than killed.

Last week, there was an accident involving two fire trucks. One person witnessing the wreck had this to say,

"It was such a loud bang that I thought someone must have gotten killed or more than (that). It was a huge bang. I'm amazed that they're OK. I really am," she said.

Um. How do you get more than killed? What exactly happens when you are more than killed? I am so confused.

And, obviously, I hope everyone injured recovers fully. Thank goodness no one was more than killed.

An 80th birthday party, a kid with a stick, and a haircut.

Kenny's grandma, otherwise known as Mimi, turned 80 on Saturday. We celebrated with a party and a pinata.

After four guys made fifteen attempts to hang the pinata, Mimi too the first whack.

She then turned over the bat to the kiddies, who got busy attacking in order to quickly reach the candy. You know, cause they didn't already have enough candy from the Easter Egg hunt they just had. Jill was thrilled with the amount of candy she got.

All sugared up, the girls spent hours running races across the golf course. Not to be outdone by the "fun Uncle Todd who runs races" with Jill, Uncle Steve thought it a good idea to give Emmi a stick. And you know, if you give a kid a stick...

..you better watch your ass.


You'll notice how I wasn't in any of those pictures. Yeah, well, that's 'cause afterwards I realized how bad my hair looked in all the pictures. So I got haircut first thing this morning. And then learned how to use the self timer on my camera. Don't I look amazingly calm, like I had been just hanging out there on the stairs, instead of running wildly across the room as my camera angrily beeped out a warning to me?

Crappy Coffee

Once, after I spent twenty minutes yammering on and on to the dentist at Texas Children's about what healthy foods I generally buy, Emmi announced loudly that she needed "donuts and coffee." "Coffee" actually being a kids hot chocolate. Although, really, I do let her eat all the donuts she wants, because we are grateful for anything she wants to eat considering the alternative (for those of you who don't know Emmi has a health condition that makes eating unappealing. Most kiddos are tube fed by her age, yet she eats. Albeit donuts and coffee. But whatevs.). At least once a week, Emmi requests coffee. The hot chocolate no longer pacifying her in her quest for coffee, she wants "Iced White Mocha." I catch her sneaking sips of mine, and she has even attempted to order one for herself.

Today, after Starbucks messed up my drink Kenny brought home for me, the girls rode with me to get a new one. And yes, I did go back to get a new one. Shut up. I needed coffee. Even Emmi wouldn't drink it.

Without a word I jiggled the cup at the guy behind the counter. "That looks wrong," he said, knowing my usual drink. At that moment, Emmi chimes in, "She need Iced White Mocha. That one crap."

I am sure her therapist will be oh so proud of the new word I taught her today. Crap. But hey, at least she used it appropriately. It really was crap.

Fooled you!

It's April Fool's Day. I always feel like the old tricks are the best.

Don't you worry, Jill and I hid all the soap in the house, along with the toothpaste. Plus, we might had short-sheeted the bed.

We are so clever, we even re-rumpled the covers.