Things I Want to Remember

One of my goals for 2018 was to blog more since this is what I use as our family journal and I want to be able to look back on it in 5, 10, 20 years and see all of the great stuff we did. But clearly, I'm failing. Maybe I should have been better at doing my Personal Progress as a teenager and then I'd know how to make goals and stick to them (totally being sarcastic) :)

We have found ourselves in the same position we were in exactly 5 years ago; trying to find a place to live. Except this time, it's not something we wanted to do.

Last year, our landlord threw around the idea of selling our house but later realized he'd be paying enormous amounts of taxes and changed his mind. We quickly signed another year lease to ensure we'd have a place to live. Well, we received a letter in the mail last week that he decided to go through with the process this year. Houses in our neighborhood are popping up for sale every week and we weren't surprised by his decision, just sad.

We believe in miracles so I sent our landlord, who we've never had any contact with, a letter explaining how much we love this home. Before we moved up here, we prayed harder than I think we've ever prayed for anything else that we would find the perfect home for us. And this has been it. We love our neighbors, its proximity to The Lime's awesome school and his friends, how close we are to the baseball fields, and simply the house itself. I also included a photo of our family with the letter, hoping to tug on his heartstrings extra hard. We aren't holding our breath that our plea will change his mind but we aren't completely dismissing it either.

In the meantime, The Lime is playing baseball again and landed on the same team as his best friend (who also lives down the street from us and they're in the same class at school). Both boys are the oldest, tallest, and most experienced. The rest of the kiddos have either never played or this is their first year in Farm. We're hoping The Lime will polish off his skills with this level and be ready to go for AA come next Spring.

Speaking of baseball and our awesome neighbors, I think I've mentioned before The Lime's infatuation with a kid named Hank that lives across the street. Hank goes to school in Sonoma but his younger brother, Joey, still lives at home. Both Hank and Joey play baseball so when it came time for The Lime to sell his coupon cards as a baseball fundraiser, I suggested going to Hank's house to see if his parents wanted to buy one. Joey opened the door, The Lime nervously said his spiel, and without hesitation Joey said, "I'd love to buy one!" Holy melt my heart. I get teary-eyed just thinking about his willingness to support The Lime. How many teenage boys are so stinkin' kind and wave to 8 year old kids when they get home from school/work? This right here is one of the reasons I don't want to leave our home!

Also speaking of The Lime, LaVor got tickets for his birthday (which I need to blog about) to see Chris Stapleton in concert come July. The Lime was at school a few weeks ago when a girl was talking about going to the Justin Timberlake concert. "My dad is going to that one!" The Lime told her. He came home from school that day and told me the story. I nearly fell on the floor, dying of laughter. I suggested he go to school the next day and tell Kinley right away that his dad was going to see Chris Stapleton, not Justin Timberlake :)

Our little Doodlebug is quite the character and keeps us laughing all.day.long. His facial expressions are to die for, his dance moves are the best, and he still lets met hold him (even though I'm trying really hard not to encourage it since he will be FOUR in 2 months). He loves going to church and comes home with the juiciest Sunbeam gossip you've ever heard. Mainly it's about one of the little girls who disrupts the class and finds herself in timeout every week. Even though he takes one look at dinner and says it's gross and then spends the next hour slowly eating it, he always finishes. He loves to "nuggle" (snuggle) but only with LaVor. I don't think I'm cushy enough. Actually, our whole family loves to snuggle and we've found ourselves squeezing onto our queen bed and falling asleep together these last few months. It wreaks LaVor's poor back but it makes for happy memories.

LaVor is killing it at work and I'm getting fat (not pregnant...I blame it on the lack of sleep and copious amounts of treats).

The boys are way more interesting than we are :) I just need to post more to prove it.

Control

When I was younger, and all the siblings would be wrestling, my brothers would occasionally put blankets over our heads (my sister and I), or sit on our legs, or do both at the same time. I would FREAK out. No matter how much I tried to relax or tell myself it wasn't as bad as I thought, it would make it 10x worse. The only means of defense I had was to scream, and scream loud, which caught my mom's attention and then the boys had to stop.

I was looking through photos not too long ago and came across one of our family, several years ago, when we were all together for Christmas. I can remember that night as if it were yesterday. I ran around the corner to put some gas in my car (back when $5 would get you half a tank) when I was approached by a man, asking for money. I have never been one to carry cash so when I told him I didn't have any, I was being completely honest. He asked me again and I told him the same thing. Then he stood there, staring at me, as if he was contemplating what he should do next. As a petite, 20 year old girl, all by herself, completely helpless, I started freaking out (in my mind but I'm sure it showed on my face). We stood there for what seemed like forever when he turned around and walked away. I immediately got in my car, locked my door, burst into tears, and drove the 2 minutes back to my house.  "What happened?!?!" everyone asked as I walked through the door.  It was that same helpless feeling of when I was little, where I would have had few options of defense, had the man become more annoyed/frustrated with me and wanted to do harm.

Around that same time, I had taken a liking to a boy.  Only, he had a girlfriend, and a baby (with a different girl), but that didn't seem to stop my feelings from growing.  He had his own body shop where he was replacing the front fenders on my dad's Mustang, which I used as an excuse to see him.  Most of the time he had a friend there (never the girlfriend, though.  I was stupid during this time but not THAT stupid) but during this particular visit, he was by himself.  He had an upstairs to his shop and invited me to see the rooms.  We entered one of the rooms, me going in first, he shut the door, turned the light off, and stood in front of the door, blocking it.  So many red flags went up during the few minutes this took place, and I was completely aware of them, but I ignored every single one of them.  Until he turned the lights off.  I had to ask him a couple of times to turn them on until I made my way, through the dark, to the switch and turned them on myself.  I don't remember if his phone rang, or someone came into the shop, but something happened where he had to move from the doorway and we (more I) was able to leave.  I willingly put myself in a seriously dangerous situation where I had zero control.  If something happened (which nothing did), nobody would have heard me scream, I wouldn't have been able to fight him off (although he wasn't much taller than me), I don't even think I had told anyone where I was going.  But the feeling of having someone else in control of me is what scared me the most.  As it did in all the situations mentioned above.

So if I seem to lose it if you sit on my legs, cover me with a blanket, ask me for money when I don't have any and stare me down, or lock me in a dark room, you'll know why.

Procrastination

For the first 15 years of my life, I have a vivid image in my head of the pink desk that resided in my sister's bedroom. She and my mom painted the top of it pink and wrapped delicate white fabric around the bottom half, concealing the unpainted parts. She received this desk from my grandma, who had it at her home in my aunt's bedroom, with the matching dresser and nightstand. When my sister got married and moved out, I claimed the desk, leaving the top half pink and removing the fabric. The desk followed me to Livermore when I got married, still half pink, and then moved with us to our current location. At that time, I put it in the garage because I had plans of re-finishing it and using it in our spare bedroom as the computer desk.

Time swiftly passed and nothing had been done to the desk. Then I got pregnant and used the excuse of not wanting to sand the 40+ year old finish off and risk getting sick or harming the baby with whatever dust I created. The poor desk sat, neglected, with spiderwebs covering most of its insides for almost 2 years before I finally decided to get to work.

I went to Home Depot, bought the supplies I needed, and started sanding away the dated finish and pink paint. Nap time was golden for me, as this was my hour that I had to work, work work. After several hours of sanding, several coats of primer, and three coats of paint, plus new handles, I ended up with the desk that my mind had been picturing for 16 years.

Since Doodlebug is utilizing the spare bedroom, I rearranged our bedroom so we could put the desk in there. So far, so good. And the cherry on top is that I don't have to 1) sit on the floor in the spare bedroom to use the computer anymore and 2) I can use the computer anytime I want because I don't have to worry about a sleeping baby waking up from the noise I make.

And do you know what would make the deal even sweeter? This darling chair from IKEA. Adding it to my Christmas list as.we.speak.

Socks

Growing up, we had a "sock pile" which consisted of every sock in our household that didn't have a match.  The thing was huge and out of control.  I think it stuck around until my parents moved from our childhood home.

When I got married, I vowed to not have a sock pile.  I try my darnedest to keep pairs together but somehow, I still end up losing some.

Like the picture above.  I folded several loads of laundry yesterday and had tons of pairs by the end.  But I also had these stragglers.  That tiny one at the bottom, with the blue stripes, lost its partner the first time I washed them! I have no clue where the other sock is; I've looked everywhere.

So it looks like, no matter how hard I tried to avoid it, a sock pile is forming.  Hmph!

Farmers Market

Kale, lettuce, kettle corn, apples, oranges, potatoes

Growing up, my mom would occasionally take us to the Farmers Market.  I loved buying flowers there, especially sunflowers.  There was a Dutch baker that had delicious cinnamon bread and other pastries.

When we lived in Livermore, we couldn't wait for May to come around so we could walk to the market every Thursday night.  Sometimes, the strawberries wouldn't even make it home.  Because we were there every week, people began to recognize The Lime from his cowboy hat and wooden bike.  We always ran into friends, usually Mike and Chelsea.

One of the perks of where we live now is that our city has several year-round markets that we can choose from each week.  We even paid a visit a few weeks ago when it was raining cats and dogs.  I was never so happy to see my apple guy.  It made being wet worth it.

Yes, I have an apple guy.  The most delicious pink lady apples for $1.50 a pound!  $1.50!!!!!  Can you believe that?!  I can't remember the last time we bought apples at the grocery store.  I will forever give the apple guy my business, even if he doesn't give me my two cents in change.

The carrots from the market are so good, too.  And the strawberries.  I've never heard LaVor enjoy a piece of fruit like he does those strawberries.  And this week, the potato lady found a heart potato for The Lime.

I can't wait to start making Doodlebug's baby food with all the yummy, fresh produce we have available at our fingertips.

I'm anxious to see what treasures we find next week, in addition to my apples.

'Tis the Season

Almost three weeks since a post...yikes!

I love this time of year but hate how busy everything and everyone gets.  And I don't even have kids in school or extracurricular activities.  I can't imagine what next year will be like!

I've been spending more time on the computer in the last two weeks than I have all year.  Working on Christmas stuff and getting teacher binders ready for next year's primary have been my life, aside from my normal life.  I'm anxious for January to get here!

We had some sick visitors last week and whadda ya know?  Doodlebug started sneezing and coughing Friday night.  His sleep is pretty much non-existent and I hate seeing him not feel well.  Poor little guy still smiles at the drop of a hat, even though his eyes are watering, chest is congested, and nose is running.

On a happier note, I won a twitter contest and will be receiving two free tickets to an A's game as well as an inning in the radio booth.  For a girl who used to dream of being a radio DJ, I'm so excited!  I don't think I'll be on the radio but just seeing how everything works is going to be a treat!

There will be new posts this week.  Rain, Santa in the Park, Doodlebug's seven month mark, and whatever else might come about between now and then.

Releasing the Skeletons

Remember in a few previous posts how I mentioned I was anticipating my hair falling out?  Besides the evidence all over me, the floors, and the shower wall (even found a hair wrapped tightly around Doodlebug's toe...sorta like how hair gets wrapped around the vacuum brush...blah!), it is also very visible on my head.

Normally I have a slight part from my bangs and the rest of my hair but this is what happens after I deliver those cute babies.  Lovely bald patches on both sides of my head that are thankfully being camouflaged by side swept bangs.  

I'm glad I started growing them out before I started losing hair.  The bangs are getting long enough that I'm slowly exiting the awkward stage and entering the cute stage.  When LaVor says I look cute two Sundays in a row, with my swept bangs, I must, because he much prefers my old bangs.

Speaking of LaVor, I was talking with some runners the other day and they asked if I ran or did any other sort of recreational sport.  "Nope," I said.  "I sit on the couch and eat ice cream."  In fact, I just finished a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough.

But thanks to my diesel mechanic husband, I get an excellent workout cleaning the shower.  Now I won't completely throw him under the bus because I take showers too, but the grime that I scrubbed this morning isn't my "chased The Lime at the park" grime.  No, this is tough, greasy, other heavy equipment fluid gunk that takes multiple solutions to eliminate.  And a ton of elbow grease.  

There is no way I would post a before picture, because then I'd have to kill you, but I will share an after photo.

When my arms start shaking like JELLO from scrubbing so hard, and not because they're fat, and I'm perspiring all over, I know I'm burning a sufficient amount of calories.  

Enough that I don't need to take on running and I can still enjoy my bowls of ice cream.

It's a Twister

It's been raining off and on the last couple of days, preventing us from going outside to play baseball.  When The Lime woke up from his nap today, he looked outside and noticed the rain had stopped.  He couldn't get outside fast enough to start hitting some balls.

While the rain had stopped, there were still some crazy clouds in the sky, as well as the sun, and a rainbow.  We weren't outside for more than 15 minutes before it started raining again so we headed back inside.

When LaVor got home from work, he went in the backyard to check on some things and called me outside.  "Look at that," he said.

The clouds were spinning at an outrageous rate and a funnel cloud had formed.  You could see it was trying to touch down but then it'd go back up.  It was moving west to east and was making its way toward our house.  It wasn't too long after that LaVor got a notice on his phone that there was a tornado warning and we should seek shelter.

But did we?

Nope.

We went out to the front yard to get a better look, as did the rest of our neighborhood.  Everyone had their cameras and phones, documenting this unusual event.  A neighbor down the street, who has lived in this area her entire life, said she's never seen a tornado.  

Part of me was curious like everyone else but the other part of me was nervous that the cloud would change its course and come back in our direction.  And while it obviously wasn't a huge one, I still didn't want to find out what it could do.  

The warning was lifted about an hour later and things were back to normal.  A few homes suffered minor damage but it was nothing like what the Midwest sees. I can't even imagine the fear people experience while living through a tornado. And then to realize the destruction that has taken place. Man! I would get the heck out of dodge, for sure.

I've decided I prefer earthquakes, where there's no warning, as opposed to tornados, where you can see them coming and have time to freak out prepare.

Spray Guard 2001

We usually have "Full House" on at night, since they run it for about three hours straight.  One of the episodes last night was when Uncle Jesse invented the Spray Guard 2001 and I longed, during the entire show, that it was an actual product.

 Confession time!

If someone couldn't tell, I'm a bit obsessive about my bangs.  They take me at least 15 minutes to do and I usually do them in private, mainly because someone might be frightened by how OCD I am about them.  I was having issues with them a few weeks ago and the thought of growing them out did pass through my mind.  But I can't get rid of them.  They've been with me too long and I've finally mastered the process EXCEPT for the spraying.

Over the years, I've tried different methods to spray them and not the rest of my hair, or my face, and it just can't be done.  I either have hairspray on my face and breakout or the rest of my hair is plastered down before I have a chance to do it.

That's where the Spray Guard 2001 would come in extremely handy, and that's also the reason Uncle Jesse invented it (he was spraying his face as was Michelle).

I would just keep the spray paint in the garage.

It's That Time Again!

Most people are anxious for the new year to start because of resolutions or the high hopes they have for what's ahead.

I, on the other hand, look forward to the first of the year so we can start our taxes!

All year long, I try to keep our files in order so come tax season, I have everything I need at my fingertips.  I get a little excited when I go to grab something and it's right there.  No shuffling or searching.  Except for the paperwork from our move.  I didn't know I'd be able to deduct those charges so I had to go on a hunt through old statements.

I've always done our taxes and find the process fun and simple.  You really can't beat the programs they have nowadays, nor the prices.

One thing I also learned this year is that I need to keep better track of our medical expenses.  I threw around the idea of deducting them last year but didn't want to mess with the hassle of adding everything up.  I changed my mind this year.  We had been to the doctor quite a bit (including The Lime's ER visit) and I decided to put forth the effort.  It took a while to gather all the information, as I'm not sure I've received every EOB I was supposed to, but I got everything added up.

That was yesterday.

Today, I made a spreadsheet to keep track of this year's medical expenses so it'll be a little quicker this time next year.

There's just something about numbers and organization that get me going.  Which is why I also love balancing the checkbook. 

Free Speech

My sister seemed to have a new story each week about someone who decided to throw out any filter they might have possessed and freely speak their mind regarding her having a baby. Hardly any of the comments were uplifting and positive but rude and uncalled for. She got to the point where she would respond with a witty comment and catch them completely off guard.

I think she rubbed off on me.

The Lime and I were at the library today, making our way to the entrance. They have one of those handicap buttons you can press for the doors to open automatically, which The Lime likes to take advantage of. He was trying to press the button with his foot but wasn't having any luck, since people kept leaving the library and opening the doors. I told him he could press the button on the way out and tried to get him to follow me. That's when an older man walked up, put his book in the return box and said, "Well maybe if you hadn't been kicking the button, it would have opened." That's when I took The Lime's hand and said to him, "I don't know why people think they can say whatever they want!" The guy totally heard me and turned back around and said something. Unfortunately, I didn't hear him.

I was originally thinking that it has to do with age; apparently the older you get, the more diarrhea exits your mouth. But in my sister's case, she had a wide spectrum of people throwing comments her direction so my theory is out the door.

What makes people think they can comment about other peoples' situation? Is it the free speech thing? I can say whatever I want, no matter how it might make someone feel. And that's true, people can say what they want. Maybe I feel like the person is stepping into my business, where they don't belong. Maybe it's a combination of them being rude and annoying.

I'm particular about who enters my bubble, whether it be physically or with words. I think things in my head all the time but would never dare say it outloud, mostly because of the fear of getting shot or beat up but also because I wouldn't want to hurt their feelings!

But if someone is thick skinned enough to say it to me, I'm hoping they're thick skinned enough to have it returned.

Unless they're pregnant. Then just don't say anything.

Soda Pop

Much to my dismay, The Lime is a sodaholic. Because you always seem to want what you can't have, right? He also just recently started calling it soda pop. He can't remember where he learned that.

After 12 years together, I finally shared an embarrassing part of my life with LaVor. I used to have a huge fear of having to go to the bathroom when a bathroom wouldn't be readily available. So road trips were a nightmare because I had to pee every half hour, whether I really had to go or not. I also avoided any beverages other than water because I was convinced they went through me faster, thus making me go to the bathroom. Soda was at the top of the list with Snapple close behind. LaVor said it was a good thing I waited to tell him all of this because he might have changed his mind about me. Silly goose.

That's where my dislike of soda started. Then I went to culinary school and took a nutrition class where I learned more about artificial sweeteners. The fact that diet soda can actually be worse than regular soda startled me, even though I don't consume diet drinks.

Then I was exposed to proper dental hygiene and realized soda could do a number on pearly whites. In fact, a combination of video games, Mountain Dew, a lack of brushing and a lack of flossing could cause a $10,000+ disaster. The suggestion of drinking through a straw to limit the amount of soda that touches the teeth doesn't fly with me.

While I try to avoid the stuff, The Lime can't get enough of it. In fact, I think he consumed more soda during our trip than I have in the last year. You might be asking, "You're the parent, why don't you just tell him he can't have it?" Remember he's a sodaholic? If he's around it, he'll find a way to drink it. And it's everywhere! The kid can spot a soda machine from a mile away.

He prefers root beer and orange, both of which leave a nice stain. I cringe when I see what it does to things on the outside, I can only imagine what his insides look like.

So from here on out, we are water and milk drinkers. The Lime might hate me but his teeth and body will thank me for years to come. At least until he gets a job and insurance and can pay for his own choices.

Hydrangeas

I was at my grandma's house today, getting a drink of water from the kitchen, and I noticed some flowers peeking up from the window.  They were the most beautiful bluish purple hydrangeas I had ever seen!  Before we left, The Lime and I picked a few to enjoy and admire at home.

I don't know when I started liking hydrangeas.  I remember getting my mom a plant for Mother's Day, with a copy of Martha Stewart Living, when I was younger.  I also remember my sister's best friend using them in her wedding, along with blueberries.  When it came time for me to pick out wedding flowers, I was drawn to pink hydrangeas.  I loved my wedding bouquet!

I also seem to notice them wherever we go.  Like in Bussum, Netherlands or San Francisco.

I still haven't seen any as blue as what we saw today.  I couldn't resist taking loads of pictures when we got home.

The Lime wanted to take a picture with them so he sat down and smiled but was looking off into Neverland.  When I said, "Look over here!" this is what I got.

Blue eyes and blue hydrangeas - love 'em both!

H2O2

We always had a water bottle in the bathroom growing up, so when us girls did our hair, we could saturate the sides to ensure we didn't have whispies.  By brother failed to tell my sister that he had replaced the water in an old bottle with hydrogen peroxide.  It didn't take long for Amy to realize the "water" was lightening her hair.  Things were labeled after that incident.

We have a fruit tree in our front yard that we've determined produces tiny plums.  We originally thought they were cherries so now The Lime calls them plum cherries.  The suckers are covering our front lawn so we try to avoid walking on it if we can.  When The Lime and I were packing the car last Friday, I rolled the luggage over the edge of the lawn, lifted the bag into the car, looked down and saw my only worn once pair of pants had two huge red stains from the plum cherries.  I was SO mad!  I didn't have time to wash the pants so I dabbed a cotton ball of hydrogen peroxide on the stains and laid the pants out.  When we left, the stains were staring me down and I had little hope the pants would be wearable again.

The second we got home on Sunday, I ran to the laundry room and had to search for the stains!  That magic cotton ball worked miracles!  After I brought the pants to the light, I could still see a faint stain so I mixed hydrogen peroxide and dish soap, brushed the stains with an old tooth brush, let them dry overnight and then ran them through the wash.  I pulled them out and they were completely stain free!  Hallelujah!  Such a relief!

Now I need to work the magic on my new shoes that got a stain.

What's Cooler Than Bein' Cool

With all this hoopla circulating regarding the CEO of Abercrombie & Fitch stating he doesn't want large people wearing his clothes, but wants those that do wear them to feel cool, it got me thinking.

My brother wore a lot of A&F prior to him leaving on his mission.  Since I could never afford their clothes, I would ask to borrow his t-shirts.  Let me give you a visual, as I don't have any photos to provide (thank goodness!).  A 5'3 girl, weighing about 100lbs, with braces, no make-up, wearing a men's A&F shirt, most likely an XL.  That, my friends, is a girl trying to be cool.  Does it sound cool?  No.  Although I must admit, I looked darn cute in his baseball hats.

The teenager in me assumed that putting on a brand would up my cool factor when in reality, it brought it way down.  I quickly learned that I wasn't cool and would never be cool.  To save me from future humiliation, I needed to avoid anything that I thought was cool.

Like hashtags.  Are they cool?  I really don't know but everyone and their mother and dog seems to use them like they are.

I think they started with Twitter, a social network that I only signed up for to ask a chef where he buys his aprons.  Six months later and I'm still trying to figure out how to delete my account.  I think people also use hashtags with Instagram.  Clearly I am not cool enough to know this stuff.  Therefore, I have not and will not tag anything.  (See!  Learned my lesson!)

And thank goodness I got over my brand obsession.  I can't even walk by Abercrombie & Fitch without gagging from the smell, let alone stepping foot in the store.  Bless those souls that feel the need to be cool while suffering from extreme headaches.

Still Here

When someone hasn't posted in a while, I usually suspect that they're having marital problems. Unfortunately, my speculation has been accurate several times.

But that's not our case.

A week prior to us moving (yup, we moved), I packed up our computer and every cord and contraption that went with it. Three weeks after our move-in date and we still don't have the internet. I feel completely disconnected from the world but am able to get my quick fix when LaVor gets home from work and I can check my e-mail on his phone. Other than that five minutes, every thing else has been neglected.

But with such negligence comes lots of future posts!

-Birthdays
-Moving
-Conference
-Cake
-Baseball
-Boston
-Potty training
-The Lumineers

And so there's something worth while to this post, a cute shot of The Lime that my dad captured last weekend. I love this boy beyond words.

Irish Punk

A week from today is St. Patrick's Day and I already have an idea of what I'll wear, including my shade of green nail polish. Now if only my mom passed on her "Kiss Me! I'm Irish!" pin, I'd be all set.

With the weather changing, I've noticed an abundance of concerts coming up. And it just so happens that a lot of the bands coming are some of our favorites. In fact, Flogging Molly was in Oakland last night. On Friday, while at work, I was reading the notes a hygienist made in a patient's chart. "Going to see Flogging Molly this weekend - Irish Punk" it read. When the patient came to my desk to schedule his next appointment, I squealed with delight, "I would love to go to the show!" I offered to be his date, since his wife wasn't too keen on going and he was going to be the fifth wheel. He didn't give me an answer, so I'm assuming it was a "no".

I first heard of Flogging Molly (my co-worker kept saying Fogging Molly) while driving across the Bay Bridge on my way to school in 2004. I was listening to Alice @ 97.3 and No Name did a segment on Fridays where he'd play a favorite song by a band that Alice normally didn't play. Seven Deadly Sins blasted through my speakers and I was hooked.

Fast forward to April 2005, when LaVor and I go see Fever Pitch in the theater. If you've seen the movie, you'll remember the Red Sox opening day scene and the song that goes along with it. When I first heard it, it sounded like Flogging Molly but not exact. With LaVor's help, I found out it was Dropkick Murphys (coming to the area April 15 & 16).

That brings us to our trip to the East coast during the summer of 2009. We were so excited to visit Boston and experience a Red Sox game. "Tessie", the song from the movie, is played each time the Red Sox win, and they won the night we went. This is a great article about the traditional music played at games.  (The Lime just turned this song on on our iPad and said, "Baseball!")

And here we are today, actually yesterday, when we were watching Boston's Finest, a new reality show that follows several officers from BPD (I just love the accents!). And who sings the theme song? You've got it! Dropkick Murphys.

So remember, if you go to one of these bands' shows and you're the fifth wheel, I'd be happy to be your date.

It's Hereditary

I have always had a weird desire to visit a jail and/or prison. Any show about such topics instantly draws me in, hence why Prison Break was a favorite (plus Wentworth Miller is pretty easy on the eyes).

With my sister's house being on the way to one of the county courthouses, we see the county jail bus almost every day. The Lime can spot the blue and gold with his eagle eye and I try to get as close as I can to try and catch a glimpse of the inmates. The bus' windows are blacked out so I only catch the outline of bodies. I do wonder if they're able to see me.

Photo from Flickr

One day, a couple weeks ago, we were right behind the Sheriff van. I could, again, make out two bodies and then the sun poked its head out from behind a cloud and landed directly on the inmates. I caught a good glimpse of their faces, which creeped me out. I've decided I prefer to just see the outlines.

On the way to Old Navy today, I took the necessary exit off the freeway when The Lime asked if we could go to the jail. "Jail?" I asked him. I then realized we were down the road from the juvenile hall. I told him we could drive by it on the way home.

Sure enough, as soon as we got in the car and made our way back to the freeway, he reminded me what we needed to do and that Auntie had taken him by the jail and that's where the bad people go. She just about died when I shared the story with her this afternoon.

He hooted and hollered as we drove by. He's following in my footsteps. I just hope he continues his obsession as an outside observer.

USPS

Last year, after The Lime got his bike, we spent a lot of time outside. We got to know our mailman quite well (maybe a little too well) but I also noticed something different.

Growing up, I remember two of our mailmen: Eddie and...the other guy. We would leave gifts for Eddie in our mailbox and then peek out the window to see his reaction.

When I first started my current job, our mailman was Ron. A sweet man who would stop and chat with us every day. He made scrumptious garlic peanuts. Then his route was switched and we haven't seen him in years.

Our normal guy at home, Josh, wasn't delivering today. The Lime and I were leaving when the mail was delivered. The man handed me my junk, walked back to the truck, drove two houses down, delivered their mail and the neighbor's, got back in his truck, drove to the next two houses, and did the same thing throughout the neighborhood.

Back in the good old days, our mailman would park his truck around the corner and walk around the entire neighborhood, with an enormous pile of mail in his arms. Do these kind not exist anymore? Is this why the postage is increasing but they just blame it on us?

I'm curious...what kind of post person do you have? A walker or a driver?

Fire Hazard

Our bath mat was in need of a wash. I've done it many times before and it always came out clean and fluffy. This time, after taking it out of the washer, I noticed the rubber backing was beginning to break apart. The lightbulb didn't go off in my head so I threw the mat in the dryer. When the cycle was over, I got the mat out of the dryer and noticed lots of little pieces of rubber scattered everywhere. Again, no lightbulb, so when the following load needed drying, I just threw it in and pressed "start". Within minutes, LaVor said, "I smell something burning!" It was the dryer...the dryer with the rubber in it.

I could see lint and rubber behind the grill(?) on the right side, where the lint screen hangs out. My initial reaction was to get my tweezers and start picking away but LaVor vetoed that idea, as it was late and the washing machine/dryer share a wall with The Lime's room.

I was hoping LaVor would be able to fix my mistake the next day but he had to work late. I needed to do a big load of laundry but didn't have enough space to hang dry so I needed my dryer. I decided to take matters into my own hands.

It took me about 30 minutes to find a socket that matched the bolts on the back of the dryer. Thank goodness for a mechanic husband that has every tool you can imagine! While I was taking the back of the dryer off, The Lime, decked out in his hard hat, goggles, and tools in hand, knelt down next to me and said, "Mama, what do we have here?" He was in work mode and was going to help me get to the bottom of this.

With the help of our trusty Shop Vac, I sucked every ounce of lint/rubber remnant out of the inside of our dryer (or so I thought). I am religious about cleaning the lint screen in between loads but it obviously makes zero difference. There was lint EVERYWHERE! I really have no idea how we haven't erupted in flames.

Just shy of two hours later, I put the dryer back together and attempted to slide it back in place. Trying to align the lint vent took me forever but I did it. Thank goodness for being small, somewhat flexible, and strong enough to push my body weight up and over appliances.

I wanted to confirm my work paid off and threw another load of laundry in the dryer. Again, within minutes of starting it, the smell was still there.

So the next morning, complete with swollen eyes from the previous nights exposure to large amounts of lint, The Lime and I tackled the back of the dryer one more time. This time, we were going to clean the left side of the dryer where the heating element is. Little brown (burnt) pieces of lint and rubber were retrieved and another hour and a half was spent cleaning every nook and cranny. Another repeat of my newly discovered contortionist talent took place and we were back in business.

This time, when I turned the dryer on, I crossed my fingers and stood there as things heated up. My nose sniffed and sniffed. Nothing. I stood there a little longer, still waiting. And still nothing. We did it! No more burning rubber!

I was thinking that after six and a half years, LaVor's ability to fix anything was beginning to rub off on me.

Then I remembered that all I did was vacuum the heck out of the dryer.

At least it's clean and we won't catch on fire.