Cooking Skills

Cooking skills - - I has them.

Tell me this isn't the most yummy looking grilled cheese ever.

Cameron said it was de-lish.

Cameron's mommy is a rock star.  Even if it is just a sandwich.

Just Between Friends!

Have you heard of JBF before?  I'd heard tons of "buzz" but always thought it was geared more towards moms with babies and little ones.  So I never bothered to attend.

Then last fall, a friend hit me up with a free pass to enter and I thought, "Why not?"

I was SO glad I did.

I must have looked like a maniac in there.  After perusing the boys' clothes for about five minutes, I scurried back to the front of the store to get a cart.  To say that I filled the cart up is an understatement.  And it wasn't just clothes.  I found SEVERAL books for my young readers and some awesome Nike baseball cleats.  I got several "name brand" shirts that were in pristine condition for pennies on the dollar.  I kid you not.

Afterward, I did a little digging and found out more about this sale.

JBF is the nation's leading children's and maternity consignment sales event franchise.  Sandy Jameson and her husband recognized this as a ministry opportunity for San Angelo and hopped on the bandwagon.  They don't do it to make money.  They do it to serve.  It serves the shoppers who are able to buy gently used clothing at great prices, the consignors who are able to sell their own things to others and get a little money back and it serves the local family shelter.  All door proceeds and designated clothing not sold during the sale go to the family shelter.  How awesome is that?

The next spring sale is Friday, March 30th - Sunday, April 1st.  Want more information?  Go to their website:  San Angelo Just Between Friends  Whether you want to sell, shop or volunteer, you'll find the answer to any questions you might have there.  I understand you can even pick up tagging supplies at HEB.  How's that for making it easy on us?  No excuses!

Shopping there last year made a believer out of me and you can bet that I'll be there as soon as is humanly possible to shop this spring sale.

Are you on Facebook?  They are, too!  Click on the link below the picture to be taken to their page.  You can even get a free admission pass!  Go "like them" and tell them I sent ya.  Sandy is a wonderful lady and this is an incredible ministry she's leading.

JBF - Facebook Page

I hope to see you all out at the Wells Fargo Pavilion!

DEFCON 2

When I'm running low on Diet Coke w/Splenda, I defer to the defense readiness condition scale in order to adequately convey to my husband how dire things are in our household.  He knows.  When I call or text with a DEFCON warning, he'll ask me what number.

Before I proceed, you need to understand.  I drink my cokes cold.  Poured over ice.  Preferably over crushed ice.  I use a sweat proof tumbler and a straw.  I'm very neurotic about it and won't pretend otherwise.  I own my neuroses.

Back to my DEFCON system.

One is the worst.  The threat is imminent.  How does this translate with my warning system?  One means we are out.  And unless he wants me to go to the store (Which I've been banned from by the way.  I spend too much money.  Another entry for another day.) he really needs to bring some home.

Two means we are down to one or two cans.  And that's pretty bad right there.  It means I am probably down to my hidden one.  My reserve.  (Which I'm drinking right now.)   If you know my system at all, you know that I keep one or two hidden in the back of my fridge.  I can't risk having to offer my last one to a guest.  I know that sounds selfish.  Just keeping it real.  It's seriously a "use only in case of emergency" kind of thing.  Said emergency happened today.  I really thought we had a twelve pack out in our extra fridge that's in Mr. B's shop.  False.  None.  I don't know how this happened.  So I had to defer to my emergency beverage.  Luckily I had put two back there.  That meant we were down to one.  One.  ONE!  That happened today.

Three means I have about three or four.

Four means I have about six.

Five means I only have one twelve pack on hand.

In my perfect world, we have two full twelve packs in the extra fridge and one inside.  My own version of Diet Coke Xanadu would be the Coke truck guy monitoring my outside fridge and keeping me fully stocked at all times.  But I am also a realist.  So I accept that it will never be Diet Coke Xanadu around here.

I called Mr. B at work and gave him the news.  DEFCON 2.

He brought me home a twelve pack.

The man loves me.  He gets me.  I wouldn't trade him for anything.

*sips my liquid crack*

Ahhhhhhhhhhh.

Here it is - - my birthday present to me!

I have wanted to do this for about ten years now.  During that time I lacked the nerve, what I really wanted to get, where I wanted to get it and "approval" from Mr. B.

Don't get all caught up in the "approval" part.  Mr. B doesn't tell me what to do.  But I strongly value his opinion.  And, we do share our lives with each other.  So I felt like his approval was warranted.  He finally told me that he didn't care and that it was my body.

Good enough for me.

So, a few weeks ago, I went by the shop where I planned on getting it and made the appointment.  To hold the appointment, I had to pay a $50 deposit.  The total cost was going to be $60.  They asked if I wanted to pay that and I said yes.

My appointment was scheduled for Thursday night, the 23rd.  When I got there - - they looked at me like I had just grown a second head or something.  The "artist" wasn't there and said he had no idea that he even had an appointment.  (I was concerned about this when I made the appointment.)  These particular guys were hosting a big tattoo convention in town that started the next day.  They should have never agreed to the appointment.  But they did.  I was there.  I know that the artist agreed to do it.  I should have been tipped off when he was "too good" to speak to me and schedule it himself.

To "accommodate me for my trouble" they offered free admission into the convention and they'd do it then.  It didn't work as well with my schedule.  But I figured it was the best I was going to get.  There was no way I'd get my money back.  So I "accommodated" them.

When I got there, the guy who said he'd be available to do it pawned me off on a guy they'd brought in from Rome.  At first I was mad about it.  But K and I looked through his album of artwork and agreed he'd be okay.  At this point, I didn't want that other dude touching me with anything.  Much less a needle with ink that would be a permanent reminder of his assholian behavior.

Never to fear.  We'd be given free passes for the rest of the weekend.  (Which we never got.  Filthy liars.)

And then - - he tried to charge me an additional $40.  Oh no, no, no, no.  Not happening.

Let's just say that the Trufant Brothers are fart-knockers and they will NEVER get my business.  Ever.  They're good?  Not worth the headache of dealing with them.  Ever.  So don't use them.  Let me repeat, in case I wasn't clear.  The Trufant Brothers are bad news.  Do not use them.

It turns out that the guy from Rome was awesome.  And SO nice!  Here are a few pictures of my adventure:

Before:

Eeek!

The outlining.  (Yep.  That's a real needle.  They are not licked on by kittens.)

All smiles.  No tears.

The finished work.

My "guys" from Rome.  (Beautiful accents by the way.)

At home a few hours later.

What does it mean?  Easy.  Psalm 73:26

"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."

It's for me.  Not for anyone else.  But for me.  It's a reminder.  A visual, daily reminder of God's love for me.  A reminder that I am far from perfect.  I'm about as imperfect as they get.  And He loves me anyway!  It's a reminder to stay grounded in my faith.  His love for me is never-ending and perfect.  I *so* don't deserve that.  But I accept it. 

So.  There you have it.  I've been inked.  I love it.  

Saying Good-Bye

It's never easy to say good-bye to a pet.  Often times, you don't ever have the chance.

Yesterday, I had the chance.  And just remembering that moment brings the sting of tears back and a huge lump in my throat.

Wheezer, who was more often than not, my nemesis, passed away yesterday.

Mr. B had her longer than he'd had me.  Well, we were dating when he got her.  I even went with him and pointed her out to him.  She was in a box with her litter-mates and I thought she was the one.  He agreed and he brought her home.

At the time, living alone, he worked from home.  She was his companion.  She would lay on his desk, often resting her head on his arm as he typed on his keyboard.  They were together for three years before he brought me into his "their" home to live permanently.  Before he let me move in on our wedding day (April 28th, 2000 to be exact) he let my new kitty move in.  I couldn't let Ally live in my apartment and he agreed to letting her live here.  She and Wheezer sort of made friends.  They didn't snuggle or anything.  Her snuggling was reserved for her Daddy.  But she tolerated Ally.

She wasn't happy that I stole him from her.  Not at all.  And she rebelled.  She would pee on my laundry.  Growl when she would hear my voice.  Lay right next to him, in between us.

She eventually grew accustomed to me.  Then we brought in Justin.  Then Cameron.  Then two more cats.  It was eventually too much for her.  She was getting old and set in her ways.  She refused to use the litter box which eventually got her banned to the great outdoors.

She started losing weight and began to look pretty frail.  On cold nights, we'd take pity on her and bring her in at bedtime and let her lay on our bed with us.  But as soon as she would jump down, we'd have to put her back outside.

Yesterday, after we got home from the kids' basketball game, Mr. B went outside to love on her.  Which he did every day.  That's when he found the wound.  The wound that I knew would be the last wound.  I didn't want to be the one to make the call.  I knew it was his.  I told him where the emergency vet's office was.  As he got ready to leave, I gently picked her up.

This is where the hard part comes in.

I knew it was good-bye.  I knew she wouldn't be coming back home.  She was old and frail.  It was time.

Two "enemies" made things right.  She held on to my shoulder and purred as I held her.  I hugged her gently and told her that I never really hated her and that as much grief as we gave each other, I loved her.  I couldn't stop the tears.  (Kind of like now.  And I'm NOT a crier!!!)  I helped Mr. B put her in the pet carrier and I watched him carry her out the door.

It killed me, because I knew what was coming.

Mr. B had never had to do this before.  His only pet died while he was away at college.  And while he was sad - - it was so distant.  This was personal.  Very, very personal.

He came home, alone, an hour or so later.

The injuries were too much.  She could have surgery to fix them, but she likely wouldn't survive that.  She'd lost so much weight and clearly had some other health problems.  He made the humane decision and they put her to sleep.

He said it was brutal.  He was able to just sit there and put her as she became sedated.

And that was it.

His beloved friend made her journey to the other side of the pet rainbow.  I envision her, all curled up, in a warm, sunny spot, taking a nap.

Our family is hurting.  We are all, in our own way, grieving our loss.  Cameron took it really hard.  He has sobbed and sobbed.

We decided to skip church today and spend the morning home together as a family.  And it's been good for us.  The boys are in their room laughing and carrying on.  Mr. B is on his computer and I'm on mine. Life goes on.

She'll be missed.  In all of her orneriness, she'll be missed.

Thanks for the memories Wheezer.  We all love you.

Public Records

I love to look people up on the civil records search for my county.  Knowing the right names, you can do a sufficient amount of digging.  You can run, but you can never completely hide.

Birthday Present

I bought myself a birthday present a few weeks ago and I get it on Thursday night.

I can't wait.  I seriously can't wait.

I will post after I get it.

Are you on pins and needles?  You should be.  Some of you will be surprised.  A couple of you know what it is.  If you do - - don't tell.

*giggle*

For reals.  I can't wait.

Unleashing the Beast

My in-laws are coming today.  They'll be here this afternoon.  Yesterday I attacked Cameron's room.  Which is where they stay.  Done.  Well, except the floor.  I'm doing ALL of the floors shortly.

I must unleash the beast on the rest of this house.  I've downed two cups of Casi Cielo.  I believe I am ready.

It's go time.

Murphy's Law - - Again.

I got a factory recall notice on my van the other day.  Something about software causing the low battery indicator light to come on unnecessarily.  Which mine has.  So I called to make the appointment to get it fixed.  I made the appointment and mentioned that I *might* be due for an oil change, too.  He said to wait until that particular indicator light came on.  Okay.  Whatever.

So this morning at 10:30, I hauled myself (Starbucks coffee included) and set up camp in the lobby of the Honda dealership.  I had a Bible study to work on, so I worked on that.  It's interesting the attention reading a Bible drew.

Anyway, I was there for about an hour.

This afternoon, I begrudgingly went to a Valentine party at school.  (See previous post.)  When the kids and I got in the van to come home, guess what happened?  Yep.  That stinkin' light came on telling me that I needed an oil change.  GAH!

I called and asked when their *least* busy time was.  He asked if I could come right away.

So we loaded back up, took homework with us, and went back to the dealership.

The good news is - - I shouldn't have to see them again for another 3 - 4 months.  And the software has been upgraded.  I should be set.  Oh, and homework is done.  Whew.

Time to start my not-so-gourmet dinner.

Such is the life of B.

Bucking Tradition

I hate Valentine's Day.

I think it's stupid.  So, so, so stupid.

I don't need some martyred saint's day, included on the calendar, to remind me to demonstrate my love.  Mr. B and I do this on a daily basis.  In the little ways.  Some days more than others.  It just depends.

The last thing I want to do is pile into a crowded restaurant with eleventy-billion other people and act all cheesy and in love.

I'm not buying, or making, a card that will end up in the trash at the end of the day.

I don't want flowers that are just going to die.

I don't need candy because I'll just eat it.  And my body doesn't need any more garbage in it than I already put there.

What do I get instead?

I get a man who tells me he loves me every single day.  I get a man I can always depend on 24/7, 365.  And that - - I absolutely adore.

Tonight - we dine on meat loaf, mashed potatoes and green beans.  And each of the guys in this house will love it.

And someday - who knows when - Mr. B will do some totally random thing to show me he loves me.  I won't expect it.  And I'll be blessed by the spontaneity of it.  *That* I look forward to.

So thank you, Mr. B., for being on the same page as me and not buying into the "commercialism" of this cheese-wad day.

Love,
Valentine's Day Grinch
(and proud of it!)

Good Week

I had a great birthday "week" and had a ton of fun celebrating in various ways.  If you were a part, in any way, thank you!  Even if it was just moral support from afar, cheering me on.  Thank you!

We're gonna age whether we like it or not.  In fact, we're a day older - - every day.  So why not embrace that time and feel special?  Make it special.  That's what I did.  And it was fun!

Back to reality now.  My house is pretty much out of control and I have to reclaim it.  I've got a couple loads of laundry to finish up before I take Penny in to the dealership for a little warranty work.  Stupid recalls.  I'm going to multi-task though.  He estimated 1 - 2 hours.  (For a software update.  Yeesh.  It shouldn't take that long.  But whatever.)  I'm taking my Bible study stuff with me and working on that.  Because - - when I get home - - I have stuff to do!

The in-laws are coming on Thursday and this house is NOT ready.  Especially Cameron's room where they stay.  To say that it's trashed is an understatement.  I'm going to make him clean some of it.  But I need to do some of the pre-cleaning.  Translate - throw a bunch of crap away before he sees it.

So - - off the interwebs.  Time to get crap done.