Things that are yucky...........

Blue cheese. Or bleu cheese if you want to be all french-ass about it. Red Vines. Black licorice, since we're on the topic. Black jellybeans. Which taste like black licorice.

Lamb. Veal. Venison. Parakeet. Kidding.

Canned peas. Asparagus - mostly because I'm allergic, but who wants to eat something that makes your pee smell funny? Gross.

Liver. Olives. Well, a little bit of olives, but a lot of olives is yucky. Feta cheese. The word itself is so close to "feet" which is what feta reminds me of. Stinky feet. Ew.

Gloppy fruit. This includes pie, jam, and even extends to lemon curd, but that's ok if you just get a hint of it. Jam should not include chunks of fruit. Nor should yogurt. Just ICK. Fresh fruit is fine, and wonderful, but any fruit swimming in a glossy gel is just WRONG.

Any gum flavors other than bubblegum, cinnamon and/or some mints. Watermelon-flavored anything. Except watermelon, which is divine! Watermelon Jolly Ranchers are the worst offender.

Anything "gummy". Gummy bears, Swedish Fish, and horror of all horrors, Sour Patch Kids or those sugary-covered gummy worms. Gummy vitamins included.

Stuffed bell peppers. Childhood torture. Actually ANYTHING with bell peppers. The only thing a bell pepper is good for is holding ranch dip for other, more worthy, vegetables.

Kidney beans. My firstborn once threw up whole kidney beans THREE DAYS after eating them. They were whole and unchanged. To this day it remains a mystery and I have not consumed kidney beans since. They are clearly not real food.

Mussels, oysters or any other chewy seafood you slurp down whole. The point?

And now, some non-food yucky things.

Other people's baby's spit up. MY baby's spit up is fine, but other people's baby's spit up is horrific. On the same topic, other people's baby's poopy diapers. Horrible!

Kids who pick their noses and eat the "gold". I would (did) smack my kids if they ever even LOOKED like they were thinking about it. Eye boogers. The dust/grime that collects at the back of the toilet seat. Smelly dishcloths. Smelly towels. Smelly dogs. Smelly is a funny word. Say it over and over. What the...??

Enough already! Tomorrow: things that are wonderful!

I'm so hot.......

It's hot here. It's a Seattle kind of hot - I believe my car's thermometer topped out at 98 degrees today. The highest I've seen my car thermometer go (and mean it) was 110 a few years back and THAT was hot by anyone's standards.

But here in Seattle, when it's hot (about 5-10 days a year, with only one or two REALLY hot days), we complain. We also complain when it's too cold, and when it's too rainy, and when it's windy and the power goes out on Christmas for ten hours. But I digress.......

The point is, we don't have air conditioning. Which, really, is quite an expense considering how little we'd use it, but seems worth every penny on the days we WANT it. Many of our neighbors actually DO have air conditioning, which explains why we seem to be the only family walking around like sweating pigs, with our hair stuck to our faces, our shirts plastered to our backs and feeling the unpleasant effects of boob sweat. Don't even get me started on boob sweat.

But here's the thing. If you really just EMBRACE the heat, let yourself get all sweaty and be o.k. with it, then it's not so bad. For example, this morning, when it was already 73 degrees, I took my dog for a long walk. I was hot and sweaty when I finished, but I was o.k. with that, because it's exercise, right? Then, I picked up my son and noticed the temp had climbed a full ten degrees in just over an hour. By the time I got home with him, it was around 85 and getting hotter by the minute. I decided then and there to clean my car out. And I don't mean just clean it out - I washed every surface, cleaned the carpets, vacuumed every inch, organized the trunk, the glove box and every place anything could be stored. It took me just over two hours, at which time the temperature was in the mid-90's. I was hot. I was sweaty. I used my shirt to wipe my face so much, it felt as wet as if it had just come out of the washer. I used hot, soapy water to clean the interior of the car, which didn't make things any easier. I had to stop and wet a cloth so I could use it every two minutes or so to wipe my face off as sweat trickled into my eyes and threatened to wreak havoc with my contacts. When I was done, I made myself a bit of lunch and checked my email and only after I'd cooled down several degrees did I finally go take a shower. The shower felt amazing, BUT, I was only cool and dry for a few minutes before it started all over again.

I heard my kids say today, "I don't think I've ever been so hot!" I'm certain they have been. Like the time it was 110 degrees and they were at an outdoor day camp and it had to be canceled because so many kids had to leave due to becoming sick from the heat. We're just not used to that around here. I once foolishly agreed to take a 3-hour yoga workshop with two of my best friends. This was taught by a yoga guru and was supposed to be a very special event. I PAID good money to go to this thing. Little did I know it would be Hell on Earth. I figured we'd do a little yoga, maybe sit and meditate a little, break for a snack. Nooooo......we did intense, constant yoga in blistering heat for three solid hours. After a while, I had to just give in to it. Sweat and all. I was so sweaty my mat was slippery and I could barely do a downward dog for all the sliding. My hair was "fresh from the shower" wet. I'm sure I didn't smell fresh from anything. My face was an alarming shade of purplish-red. I was so "warmed up" I could bend in ways I never could before (and never have again!). It was, in a word, HOT.

So, I sit at my computer in my stuffy dining room. One meager fan oscillates the thick air. I've considered resorting to the redneck air conditioner (a bowl of ice water in front of the fan) but I'm pretty sure my dogs would just overturn it, or drink from it. I do have a room air conditioner in my bedroom but I can't just sit on my bed all day. So, I sweat. And I'm hot. And tomorrow it will cool down and pretty soon it will rain and we'll all be saying "It's so rainy! It's so cold!" So, I'll take it. Sweat and all. I'm hot like that.

Cabela's.....

We spent a long time in Cabela's this past weekend and spent a small fortune (most of it on car-top carriers for the kayaks, which we needed, but still....). AFTER we got home, I found a 10% off coupon!! Big bummer, except that Harrison had a cast party in the same town tonight so it was a good excuse to go back up and get the price adjustment (which amounted to no small change and which I promptly pocketed while my husband was away looking at arrows - heh!).

So, our "quick trip" to Cabela's turned into almost two hours of Jeff getting a private lesson in archery from a large, blonde woman while I toured the store (which I had already toured on Saturday) looking for interesting things. Here is but a smattering of what I found:

Camo Bibles in blue and pink for boys and girls!
Genuine Elk In Heat Urine!
A decorative frame with a large moose head emblazoned in one corner!
Pop guns! Lots of pop guns! And one boy in particular who would NOT stop popping the pop guns! (I would have ripped his head off, except that it was MY son who was doing that on Saturday, so I let it go. This time).
Brownie, cookie and pancake mix that came in little fabric bags!
TWO overstuffed camo covered recliners! (With two people sitting in them saying, "these are SO comfortable!" I was uncomfortable just looking at them.)
A book about tanning elk hides - at home!
A rubber duck!
A rubber quail!
A rubber pheasant!
A large, fake deer with a bullseye on it's side! (Bummer of a birthmark, Hal!)
Wild gooseberry jam!
Gun cases!
Gun safes!
GUNS!
A child's toy playset complete with dolls, 4x4 vehicle, tent, jet ski, four-runner, and two kids.
A complete set of "Hunter Dan" toys - dolls, vehicles, little tiny guns, deer blinds. Hunter Dan has it all!

And while I was bored, I picked up a few things myself - a pink multi-tool for my purse (yes! I am so badass!), a pink container of pepper spray for Hayley's keychain (to ward off drunken college coeds), and a pink LED light for Hayley's keychain. I only buy pink stuff from Cabela's. Although I still don't understand pink camo. How are you supposed to hide in the woods in pink? There are no pink trees. There are no pink animals (except for some pigs, but they are not the type to run wild in the woods). I don't get it.

Ah well, another two hours of my life spent in Disneyland for Dads. And I'm so proud of myself for avoiding the "jerky chew" and elk 'n' cheddar dip! Yay, Cabela's!

Cat people..........

I am certain I now know why some people are "cat people". These people were once "dog people" but had an unfortunate experience with a dog, and decided cats were much easier. Let me explain:

Yesterday, after returning home from an afternoon at the beach, we let the dogs outside to go potty and get a drink of water. Shade has no filters, therefore, he has no idea when he's had too much water, and keeps on drinking (he also doesn't know the difference between a cupcake and the wrapper and thinks wood siding is a dog treat, so there you go). After their thirst was quenched, the dogs were let back inside. All was well until IT happened.

IT was a very odd, non-human, but not quite dog-like sound. Something akin to a watermelon being dropped on cement, but with more sploosh. I glanced to my right and saw a river of liquid quickly pouring around the corner of the kitchen counter. I jumped up, not quite understanding how a puddle of liquid that size could emanate from the kitchen table and quickly discovered that Shade had spontaneously combusted and disappeared in a puff of smoke! (Sorry, just fantasizing). The dog had "delivered" his several gallons of water onto the kitchen floor and it was not unlike a toilet overflowing - in fact, paper towels alone were not adequate to clean it up. Out came the mop and bucket (me) and the carpet cleaner (Jeff) because he had also left a nice puddle on the family room carpet.

Now, everyone enjoys cleaning up messes like this late in the evening, no? Not only did it take me several passes with the mop to get the puddle cleaned up, but then I discovered just how filthy my kitchen floor was anyway. But I didn't mop the rest of it. Why expend the energy when I live with Shade?

The moral of this story is I, once again, spent the evening secretly (or maybe not so secretly) wishing Shade would just DIE already. Hannah put it best when she said "I mean, I don't want him to necessarily DIE, but I just don't want to deal with him anymore!" Exactly. Ugh. So, this is why I believe I am becoming a cat person. As much as I like Georgette and she can be pretty cute and sweet, I still can't miss the tufts of dog hair constantly rolling across the floor, the potty accidents, the barfing......well, maybe that's just Shade, but cats are just so much easier. SO much. Even though the one cat we have doesn't like me much, I still prefer her over Shade. She hides all day and barely ever comes out. Once in a while she lets me scratch behind her ears. Other than that, we leave each other alone and I am perfectly fine with that.

Bad dog, Shade! Again.

Too many photos?

I'm "that" person. The one who posts SO MANY PHOTOS on Facebook. I laugh when I see someone's "album" of a family event or birthday party and it contains less than ten photos. TEN? I can easily post 200 photos from one day of vacation. Is it overkill? Perhaps, to some. To me, photos are memories. And who can have too many of those? I love photos more than anything. Even as a child, I would mentally prepare a list of what I would grab in case of a fire, and photos were first on my list. You just can't replace them! Sure, you can back them up on an external hard drive, or store them in the "cloud", or print copies and put them in a safe, and thank GOD for that, because it used not be so easy. I still have my treasured prints from my childhood, which I need to scan into my computer and copy onto a DVD and store in my fireproof safe, because if everything goes up in flames, there is NO WAY I could ever replace those.

Before 2005, I had a Nikon camera that used actual FILM. Remember film? I loved that camera and it took such great photos. I was hesitant to "go digital" but received two digital cameras as wedding gifts when Jeff and I got married. Soon, I was hooked - how awesome to take hundreds of photos and only keep the ones you like! Sure, most of our "memories" are locked up in my laptop, but Facebook gives me a way to show them to my friends and family, who often "steal" copies for themselves. I love that I can share my photos this way, and it's a great venue for sharing photos of events like parties, reunions, graduations, etc. with a large group of people.

My kids once told me I had over 200 albums on Facebook, and expressed disbelief. I now have 517 albums. So what? I make a new album for every event. I HATE IT when people don't make new albums and so the comments below are from two years previous. Bleh! Just make a new album already - it's so easy. I could go back and delete some of them - many I've published for the sole purpose of sharing them with people who've attended parties at our house. I don't need to keep them all. But I love that they're all in one place. I almost never look back at them. I sometimes look through old albums on my computer, but there are so many, it seems daunting at times. Usually when I back up my hard drive, I will look through some old albums and sort/organize a bit. I just love looking at photos!

And it's not just my own photos. I love looking at other people's photos - of their vacations, their celebrations, their wedding portraits hanging on the wall. Every picture tells a story and I am interested. I never get bored looking at pictures.

As for my Facebook albums? Yes, I publish a lot of photos. No, I don't care. I know those who want to will look through them and those who don't will skip it. That's the beauty of it!

Freaking out.........

I always wished I would be the kind of sweet, patient mother one sees on a sitcom circa 1950-1980. You know, the ones who always look nice and sit on their children's perfectly-made beds while they dispense advice in a calm, rational manner. The ones who offer up a plate of freshly-baked cookies and a glass of cold milk when their child suffers one of the many indignities of childhood. The mom who wears stylish dresses, nipped in "just-so" at the waist, always looks refreshed, never gets her feathers ruffled, and can bake or sew anything in a flash.

BUT, guess what? That didn't happen. Oh, I do try to dispense good advice, and heal my children's hurts, and keep a nice home, and bake delicious and nutritious meals. In fact, every morning I wake up with grandiose thoughts about the things I will do, the fun we will have, the crafts I will make, the things I will bake........but who are we kidding? It's just not in my genes to be that serene mom who always has it under control.

Don't get me wrong. I can control a dicey situation with the best of them. I can juggle many responsibilities and wear many hats. But the thing is, when things get really tense.......sometimes I just freak out. As in I go completely nuts, bat-shit crazy freaking out and lose my mind (temporarily). Thankfully, that doesn't happen often, but my daily mini freak outs are a testament to my personality, which bears little resemblance to the serene, "Leave it to Beaver" momma.

Here are some examples of my freak outs:
1. When Jeff comes in and has ruined YET ANOTHER shirt because he came home from work and started working on his truck and now another decent t-shirt is stained or greasy or has paint on it. OMG! WHY can't he just designate some of his lame-ass race t-shirts from years' past to work on the truck? Recently I had a FIT when he came in with a hole in a t-shirt I had just bought him. I freaked out so much that he actually went out and bought a patch and "fixed" the shirt, good as new. And then he designated some of his lame-ass old race t-shirts as garage work shirts. YES!
2. When I see a cheese-stick wrapper on the floor and decide to leave it there until someone picks it up and four days later it's still there, only this time it's covered in dog hair and I finally FLIP MY SHIT and go on a rampage about the house, and how dirty it is, and how the kids are PIGS and how can they live in an environment such as this and finally they all get really, really quiet and start cleaning stuff up. And all is well for a few hours until someone leaves a dish in the family room where they are not supposed to eat anyway and I just pour myself a drink.
3. Here I almost typed something about my annoying dog, but I didn't want to hear the shit from people who think I'm a dog-hater because I have an old, annoying and horrible dog who makes my life a living hell. So, I'm going to leave that part out.
4. When my son comes in and reads my email/facebook over my shoulder I LOSE IT! Especially when he says "Wait, what? Who said that? What happened?" This one usually ends in my screaming "GO AWAY! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO READ OVER MY SHOULDER???" And then he sulks away, all wounded, like he didn't know or something. Whatever!
5. When the kids are goofing around and someone gets too rough and someone else gets hurt. For real. I freak out - for one, because now there's an emergency to deal with, and two, why do they always take it so far and three, it's all fun and games till someone gets hurt. Seriously.
6. When my husband: a. brings home a squash he found in the parking lot of Fred Meyer and actually thinks it's ok to eat, b. thinks a bottle of ketchup that has turned a strange brownish color and is two years past its expiration date is ok to eat, c. scoffs at me because I throw away the yogurt that's a month past its expiration date and smells funny, and he think it's ok to eat. Can you see the pattern here? I once cleaned out the garage pantry when Jeff was out of town, because I knew everything I threw away, he would either argue with me over, or fish out of the garbage when I wasn't looking and either eat it himself, or include it in a recipe without my knowledge. True story. Just because HIS stomach is iron-clad doesn't mean mine is. He thinks expiration dates are the manufacturer's way to getting you to buy more product. I think it's an FDA regulation designed to keep us from throwing up on a regular basis. Sigh.
7. When we're leaving on a trip and it's the night before and no one has packed and everyone still has to do their laundry. And each of the kids comes to me asking for a "packing list", even though I've written enough of those for them to have memorized the content, and even though I taught all of them to go "head to toe" to remember everything needed, and I KNOW at least one of them will either: a. forget a toothbrush, b. forget contacts/glasses, c. forget important medications or d. attempt to bring aboard an airplane a 10-ounce container of face lotion. GAH! So, I run around, making sure everyone has everything possible, planning for every emergency, and hastily pack my own bag in the wee hours or the morning of the trip, and inevitably forget something important. Or end up packing so many extra clothes and items I don't need that my suitcase no longer fits in the overhead.
And the number one, biggest time I have a freak out is:
8. When we're having a party/get together/people over for dinner (especially those who have never been to my house and will inevitably ask for "the tour", which means every nook and cranny has to be clean and that's not a job for the faint of heart!) and it's two hours before "showtime" and the kids are still sitting in front of the TV eating chocolate chips out of a bowl, and when I politely ask (ok, scream) for them to HELP ME, they lift their heads long enough to cast a glance about the room and say "It looks ok to me." Meanwhile, dog-hair tumbleweeds roll down the hallway, there is a pink ring in the toilet, the sink is piled high with dishes, nothing has been dusted since the last time we had company, their rooms are carpeted with dirty clothes, and there are still party decorations up from the last birthday (which, I'm sorry to say, was four months previous). That is the time I have my all-time, biggest freak out, and start barking orders like a drill sergeant (I just had to look that word up - why the HELL is it spelled with an "e" when it's clearly an "a" sound? I am a spelling nazi - which is another time I lose my shit, but that's another blog post). I'm screaming like a shrew, and five minutes before guests arrive, I throw on something decent and plaster a smile on my face like I didn't just spend the last hour with my imaginary whip, ordering my minions around. But seriously, can't they just HELP a little?

The good news is that, in the end, I sit patiently on their beds at night, listen to their hopes and dreams, and serve them fresh cookies and milk before they slip into slumber. KIDDING!

But I do listen to them. In the car, on the way to an appointment. And I do help them when they suffer the painful lessons of growing up. As in, "Forget those bitches, let's go to Starbucks!" My waist is not willowy, hence I don't wear those stylish dresses a la June Cleaver, but my jewelry always matches my top. I can serve up company with Southern grace, even though I have a bit of a temper and use the "F" word a little too much. So, I freak out a little. It's just how I roll.

I feel fat.........

Today was weird. After going to bed after midnight, I woke up at 3:30 a.m. and took four teenagers to the airport for a trip to Vegas and California. Watched the sun rise on my way home. Once home, I found my husband in the bathroom asking for "help" because his ear was plugged up. Played nurse until it was determined I could not fix it. He went to work while I went back to sleep - for one hour! Woke up, took two youngest to camp, stopping by husband's work to pick him up for doctor appointment. While driving there, he said "why don't you just drop me off and I'll check in early." Paused in the street long enough for him to do a barrel roll out of the car onto the curb. Not really, but that would have been great! He did exit the car pretty fast.

After I dropped the kids off at camp, I circled back around to the doctor to wait for my husband to get his ear fixed. While waiting, I drank an iced coffee and ate three chocolate chip cookies. Sent text message: Waiting in parking lot. No makeup on. Feeling like a zombie. Super tired. Might be snoozing. I then got a picture message from him showing me the earwax ball they removed from his ear. No, I am not lying. This happened. He texted: Nurse Judy thanks u for loosening it up. Me: GROSS! Him: I couldn't see how good the pic was. Me: Well, I don't know how a picture of earwax is "good"....Him: How clear or if pic does it justus (spelling mistake intentionally left in to emphasize his lack of spelling skills). Me: I don't know! Sheesh, was it a boulder or something? Do NOT bring it out here! Him: K. 

Sorry. That was just gross.

Dropped husband back off at work, came home, ready to collapse in bed and sleep. Found giant puddle of dog pee in the upstairs hallway. Took nearly a whole roll of paper towels to sop it up. Good times.

Then, I slept for four hours. In the middle of one of the nicest days of the summer.

I woke up, had some cheese and crackers and watermelon for lunch. Ok, and another cookie. Went to pick up the kids from camp. Was late because I was watching a video about sharks online. Stopped at McDonald's for Frappes. Kids "needed" food. Placed order. When we got up to the window, they told us, "sorry, we just ran out of mocha frappe mix - do you want a caramel frappe?" I replied "No, the only reason I even came here was for a mocha frappe." They then showed me the one frappe they made, and the half frappe with what was left. Harrison offered to have a caramel frappe. They then informed us they were also out of whipped cream. Gave us four cards that said "FREE SMALL FRY" for our next visit. Joy.

Went to husband's work to surprise him with a frappe. Sent several text messages. Called. No answer. Texted "ya snooze, ya lose" and drove home. Found husband in garage. Oh! Gave him frappe. Checked Facebook and email. Decided to accompany husband on evening errands and taking son to band practice. Convinced Arlie to go with me.

Arlie and I enjoyed a reggae concert at the park, while Jeff did boring things like go to the auto parts store and deposit checks. Harrison got his jam on at band practice. Jeff picked us up and we dropped him off at Home Depot while we went on a wild goose chase to find a perfect spot to photograph the sunset. Never did find the perfect spot but drove in a giant circle through three towns, stopped at Taco Time, and finally made it back to the hardware store to pick up Jeff. Only after that did I see these texts: U forget me or find a sunset. And: Creepy young kid in an old yellow pickup just asked me if I needed a ride, hurry! Drove home contemplating young kids intentions (speculations included kidnapping Jeff and tying him up in the canopy of the pickup). Stuffed soft taco in my mouth while I explained to Jeff why we didn't buy him any food. Whoops.

Got home, uploaded pictures, checked email, loitered on Facebook. Husband ate dinner of chicken, watermelon, guacamole. Kids made pie-iron pizzas with friends. Things were loud. Things got quiet. Winding down. Bedtime.

Oh! Why did I title this "I feel fat..." ? Because I ate nothing but junk all day. We return to regularly scheduled programming tomorrow. Maybe.

Random blogginess.......

It's been nearly three weeks since I've blogged, mostly because I haven't been "struck". By that, I mean, a sudden inspiration or idea hasn't struck me out of the blue, causing me to stay up late, or be late to something, because I simply MUST blog about it, RIGHT NOW.

However, that doesn't mean there are not blog-worthy things happening in the Moore/Gordon household. Hey, that right there reminds me of something. If you're a blended family, you can't really have one of those cute name signs on your door, or hang the initial of your last name in a giant, art-deco letter on your wall. Nope, because when you're a blended family, you have two last names (at least!) and in our house, three are Moore and three are Gordon. So, there's that.

Harrison just finished opening night of the musical "13". He was FABULOUS, and I'm biased, but it's been confirmed by many who are not even related to him, so I'm going with fabulous. He did such a great job, and the show was funny, but also poignant, at one point reminding me what a fragile, confusing, difficult age 13 can be. And my baby is exactly 13. I got a little emotional. And, wow, bursting with pride, really, at what it takes to make an individual put themselves out there on stage, sing their heart out, act with abandon, and just make it all look so easy. I'm truly in awe of this kid. He is incredible!

Next week Harrison and Arlie will be camp counselors for Camp Coyote again. My kids have done this camp for twelve years now. First, as campers, and now, as counselors. Hard to believe my little ones have grown up to the point that they are now the ones leading the "little kids" in camp activities. Gah! Where does the time go? I always use the camp week as a reason to take a mom break, hang out, enjoy some kid-free time. However, this time Hannah won't be participating because she's headed off to California (with a side trip to Vegas!) in a few days, so the first few days I'll be hanging with her, I'm sure. Plus, Hayley is here and working off and on at Subway. It's a different kind of summer. And before I know it, ALL the time will be like "camp week" and all the kids will be off doing their own thing and I'll be a sad, old lady alone at home with my cat. (HA! Who am I kidding?).

OH! Exciting news! I have a new hobby - archery! I even have my own recurve bow, which is amazing and all Robin Hood-ish. I have six shiny new arrows and a target on the side of the house so I can practice my skills any time. Jeff and I have been involved in a few friendly competitions, and I'm not too shabby for a beginner! I really love it. It's something I can do anytime I want a little break, it takes little preparation, can be done any time of day, and is right outside my door! Awesome!

Summer is flying by way too fast and I've not had nearly enough adventure to sustain me. The busy-ness of life has prevented us from doing a lot of the "usual" summer stuff like camping or going fishing in the evenings. So, I'm looking forward to trying to squeeze in some more good times, like our recent trip to Boise. Jeff participated in a half-marathon (2.5 hrs to finish!), and we got to spend wonderful time with our family, including a birthday party for my adorable great-nephews. I just love those babies to pieces, and their little sister, too. I could spend every day with them. I miss having babies!

Well, Jeff just walked in the kitchen in his boxers, a t-shirt and running shoes. Guess it's ghetto exercise time at my house! :) Gotta run.............

Independence Day!

It's the Fourth of July and I'm lounging in bed with my husband, both on our respective laptops, doing a whole lot of nothing, debating whether or not to get out and go to a parade or perhaps take in a fireworks show tonight. He mentioned staying home to "the craziness in the neighborhood, so we can protect our house and keep the dogs sane." Sigh! I think he just got old.

I remember when I used to dress my kids up in little matching patriotic outfits and go to the Bothell parade every year. They would stand on the curb, cover their ears at the Pirate cannon "booms", eagerly grab candy off the pavement. That was usually followed by a bbq or party at our house, then a trip to the old Lynnwood high school field for a fireworks show. Some years we'd skip the public display in favor of blowing up hundreds of dollars of fireworks purchased at a local stand. We'd light them off in the street, and tell the story of the one year the Roman candle went awry and into the entire stack of fireworks in the garage! Good times.

Today Hayley is working all day at Subway. She has her own patriotic plans - when asked what kind of cheese customers want, if they don't choose American, she will hold up a slice, sniff it and say "Are you sure? It smells like freedom!" Here's hoping she doesn't get fired.

Hannah will be joining a friend downtown at Gasworks Park to watch the frenzied and way-too-crowded Seattle public display. Considering there's been a shooting in downtown Seattle or the vicinity nearly every night for the past week, I'm not too excited about her going down there. Not to mention the higher incident of car accidents on the Fourth. But, YOLO, right?

Arlie is in Spokane, where she will also be downtown, enjoying the city's festivities with her relatives.

Harrison is spending the day with his dad and best friend, where he will blow up his purchases from Boom City.

So, that leaves us childless, firework-less, plan-less on this (shockingly) sunny 4th of July. Time to seek out an adventure! Time to eat from the patriotic 4th food groups: hot dogs, lemonade, corn on the cob, and watermelon! Time to put the flag decorations up (hey, it's still the 4th! And patriotic theme is chic for summer, right?)! Time to put on the flag t-shirt and paint the fingernails red, white and blue (ok, maybe not)!

Happy Independence Day!

It's not my fault you're irresponsible.........

Today I forgot an appointment my daughter had at 1 p.m. She texted me asking if it was still on and I replied yes, and could she ask her sister to take her? I was visiting a friend and knew her sister didn't have to work until later in the day. I was willing to get her if that didn't work out, but it did and she was dropped off, albeit late, to the appointment. I received a phone call shortly after from my eldest, asking if I would be picking her sister up from the appointment. Since it was only an hour, I said no, she could wait for her sister. She immediately gave me a litany of excuses ranging from "I haven't even showered yet" (um, hello? It's 1 p.m.) to "I wasn't planning on spending an hour of my day doing something for YOU!" (well, I wasn't planning on spending 19 years doing everything for YOU, but here we are) and "what am I supposed to DO for an HOUR?" (I suggested some self-reflection on how she could do more for others). She then told me I was "irresponsible", "she's YOUR daughter!" and "it's not my job to take up the slack for you screwing up".

Whoa. The joy continues.

Well, I'm off to happy hour with my husband! :) Hope the kids find something to make for dinner tonight.