Chloe Louise...

I am helping a coworker prepare for an Easter Egg hunt that she and her family put on annually for local, disadvantaged kids in the Mesquite community. For the event over 1800 eggs have been stuffed, games have been planned and more than 50 prizes have been purchased as give-aways. But the best thing about helping? This cat:








I'm sorry...am I the only one who thinks it is hysterical that this particular feline straddles the back of the couch? Because, quite frankly, I think it is pretty awesome.

On love and peanut butter...

There are currently three jars of peanut butter in my cupboard. All of them empty.

This begs the question: Why are they still in the cupboard? Is Trevor saving them for some special reason?

I mean, there must be a reason, right? He wouldn't keep empty peanut butter jars in the cupboard for no reason. That makes no sense.

And, yet:

Amarillo Bob...

My coworker received an amaryllis as a present a year and a half ago from a board member after a big event. We named him Amarillo Bob.

Bob eventually ended up in my office, because my coworker didn't know what to do with him after he bloomed. The thought was that he might bloom again with a little sunlight and TLC. But Bob, sadly, did not do much of anything for months.

Then, on a whim, I decided to cut Bob back a bit. And - behold - Bob's back!

You go, Bob!

Grammy Pammy has a birthday!

She got her sunset...

...and her cake...

...and we all sang HAPPY BIRTHDAY to her...

...and she got to blow out her candles and make a wish...

...and serve everyone yummy, yummy ice cream cake...

...and, yet, sadly...

...still no human grandchildren!

Alas! Maybe next year, GP!
XOXO

(Please note that the last picture was ONLY posted in response to the commentary about how "few" childbearing years I have left until my "eggs go stale with age". Um, thanks for the perspective, Mom...)

The eighth day of the week...

Overheard yesterday afternoon at the office:

Pam: “Can you deliver this check between Thursday and Friday?”

Nora: “Between Thursday and Friday?”

Pam: “Yeah. It needs to be there by Friday.”

Nora: “So…you want me to deliver tomorrow?”

Pam: “No. You don’t have to deliver it tomorrow. Just before Friday.”

Nora: “Today is Wednesday. Tomorrow is Thursday. And the check needs to be there before Friday?”

Pam: “Yes.”

Nora: “So, you want me to deliver it tomorrow?”

Pam: “No. Not tomorrow. Between Thursday and Friday.”

Nora: “Okay, you know there isn’t an extra day between Thursday and Friday, right? It doesn’t go Thursday, Monday, Friday. There is just Thursday and then there is Friday.”

Pam: “[Exasperated] Yes, Nora.”

Nora: “So, if it needs to be there Friday, I should take it tomorrow.”

Pam: “Or in the hours between Thursday and Friday.”

Nora: “What are you talking about? There are no hours between Thursday and Friday!”

Pam: “Now, Nora…”

Nora: “…there’s not! It is Thursday, and then it is Friday. Nothing in between.”

Pam: “Just deliver it in the 24 hours between Thursday and Friday, okay?”

Nora: “…!”

Me: “[Blinking] You know there isn’t any time between Thursday and Friday, much less 24 hours. If there was, they would call it another day.”

Pam: “Just make sure she gets the check gets there before Friday.”

The bizarre battle between winter and spring continues...

I love that yesterday we woke up with snow and freezing temperatures, and today I broke a sweat on an early evening dog walk around the neighborhood. Seriously. It was almost 70 degrees this afternoon.

You should have seen me trying to get dressed this morning. Because, really? How does one dress for the weather when not even professional forecasters have a clue?

In other news, my begonias seem to still be alive. Or maybe they are in shock? They just didn't look dead, which is a minor miracle in my book.

I'm starting to feel bad for the local weather people...

Much like last time, I don't think anyone thought we'd see as much snow as we did over night. I guess we don't have any weather models to go by. This winter has definitely been an odd one for Dallas.

Here are a few pictures taken this morning at 6 AM. I woke up Trevor by saying, "It happened again!"




And here was the scene this morning. We awoke to a winter wonderland on the second day of spring!

My poor begonias...

Snow on the first day of spring...

It is important to mention that it was in the 70s yesterday, and now it is 34, snowing, with a windchill that makes it feel like 21.


I've done my best to cover my newly planted begonias, and everything potted has been temporarily relocated indoors. Why didn't I trust my instincts and just plant pansies?

Of course, had I planted pansies, it would be a pleasant 62 out side right now. Because I am lucky that way...

Who said the weather was boring?

Please, please, PLEASE watch this short video about tonight's weather in Dallas. Because Trevor and I were so distracted by the weatherman that neither of us has a clue about what is in store for the next 24 hours. It is just THAT awesome.

A lil bit of pony perspective...

Hello. I am a lil horse for hire for kids birthday parties and pony rides. I put up with a lot of crap. And how do they repay me? By dying my hair pink. Bright pink.

And the tail? I know you can't see it, but trust me. Hot pink, too.

And you thought your job sucked...

Just my luck...

I took a chance and planted begonias last weekend instead of pansies. And tomorrow? We have a chance of snow and a hard freeze.

Fantastic.

Oh, Texas (shakes head)...

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Don't Mess With Textbooks
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Health Care Reform

I've blogged about this BEFORE, but now that everything is official, it was time for an update.

Incase you missed it, Texas' new state social studies standards are set. For the next ten years.

Deep sigh.

Teachers in Texas are now required to cover the Judeo-Christian influences of the nation's founding, but not the Founding Fathers' rationale for the separation of church and state (i.e. religious freedom - the most basic and fundamental constitutional protection we enjoy as citizens). Curriculum standards also will describe the government in the United States as a "constitutional republic," rather than "democratic", which fascinates me to no end. Because, really? Being a democratic nation has nothing to do with the Democratic Party. Just like being a republic has nothing to do with the Republican Party (which is what I have decided all these new descriptions are really about). And, not that anyone is asking me, but I do not believe words like "conservative" and "liberal" should play a part in academic standards for Texas' 10 year olds in the first place. The kids just need to know what happened. They will form their own opinions about how it affects them as they grow older. Or at least they should.

Of course, "what happened" is always up for interpretation. But the juicy bits of the story are already removed in textbooks to begin with. It has all been boiled down to dates, names and facts: 1899, Open Door Policy, Secretary of State John Hay. How the Open Door Policy affected U.S. foreign policy in the 20th century is up for analysis. But that doesn't change anything. Many of the U.S.’s policies in the 20th century were fundamentally imperialistic. So what? Shocker! Americans were influenced by Europeans! You dress it up and call it “expansionism” all you want. It doesn’t change what it was.

Just because you don’t like something in history doesn’t mean you should strike it from the record or give it a face lift and call it something new. Personally, I think Joseph McCarthy was an opportunistic whack job, but I still think it is important to learn about him and McCarthyism. It shows how terrified people in the U.S. were of Communism in the 1950s. You can even find references to it in the pop culture of the day in movies like Invasion of the Body Snatchers. What IS wrong is to reinterpret something into something it never was. Because, Joe McCarthy? Still a whack job.

But what did Thomas Jefferson do? He was stripped from a world history standard about enlightened thinkers. Was it because he was too much an advocate of freedom of religion and the separation of church and state for the conservative "experts" on the panel?

Grumble, grumble.

I know we can’t teach everything in history, but certain things are just plain important. It is disconcerting to know that these new standards will affect textbooks all over the country. Quite frankly, a state ranked 49th out of 50 in education shouldn’t have that kind of power no matter how many textbooks they buy.

Playing catch up...

Things that I thought I posted about already, but apparently did not…

1. I accidentally crashed a funeral with my coworker, Pam, in January. One of our other coworkers lost a sister suddenly, and Pam and I decided to attend the funeral to support him. We arrived at the funeral home just as people were taking their seats. There were no aisle seats available, so Pam and I squeezed into the middle of a row in the back. A woman handed me a program, and Pam and I took turns reading through it.
   
   Me: “What day did James’ sister pass away?”
   
   Pam: “Friday. Why?”
   
   Me: “This lady died on a Wednesday.”
   
   Pam: “That’s odd. Maybe James just found out about it on a Friday?”
   
   Me: “Maybe. [Hands the program to Pam].”
   
   Pam: “That weird. James’ name isn’t listed with the family of the deceased.”
   
   Me: “And I am pretty sure James found out about his sister when she was being rushed to the hospital. Your right. His sister definitely died on Friday.”
   
   Pam: “Come to think about it, did you see James process in with the family?”
   
   Me: “No, but I thought…whoa, Pam are we at the wrong funeral?”
   
   Pam: “We need to get out of here. C’mon…”
   
   Me: “…hold on. We are praying.”
   
   Pam: “Oh. [Bows head obediently].”
   
   We tried to excuse ourselves discretely, but that is hard to do when you are in the middle of a long row jam packed with people mourning. And it didn’t help that the woman who first gave me a program, snatched it back with a grimace when I whispered, “I am so sorry. We need to leave. We are at the wrong funeral”.
   
   Pam and I eventually found the right funeral, but it was a small graveside service for the immediate family. But, of course, we didn’t know that it was only for immediate family until we arrived. So, technically, Pam and I crashed two funerals in under a hour. That's just how we roll.



2. Gypsy Kitty has been diagnosed with food allergies. She is now on special food that I can only obtain by visiting my vet. I refer to it as "Gypsy Kitty's Golden Kibble”, because it costs nearly $100 a bag. I blame it all on RR and JLR. I am pretty sure their food allergies were contagious.



3. I’ve had several more vein procedures done in 2010. None of them major. All minor sclerotherapy. During the first treatment in February, the doctor told me that they would be injecting my veins with a new drug. According to her, it wasn’t as ideal as the drug they were treating my legs with in previous years because it caused “significantly more pain, irritation and burning for the patient”. The perk, however, was that the new drug was approved by the FDA.
   
   My first thought was: “I wonder why the first drug wasn’t approved by the FDA?” My second: "Wait. I've had non FDA approved meds injected into my veins before now?" I know I had a third thought, too, but I was too distracted by the sharp, burning pain shooting through my legs to pay attention to it.

Consider yourselves caught up.

As Trevor would say, "You have a finger for it..."

Hi.

This isn't about me. It is about my camellia. My beautiful, pink camellia. It looks like a plant model in a gardening magazine. I am amazed that I had anything to do with it. I've had it for two or three years now, but it has never bloomed like this before.

The red camellia that I bought to replace my other one that was stolen last year is also starting to pop. As are the two that came planted in the front yard at our new house. It is like my own personal camellia wonderland.

Had you told me five years ago that I was capable of not only keeping a plant alive for YEARS but also raising one that bloomed like the ones I have now, I would have laughed and reminded you of the cactus I managed to kill in high school. A cactus that my teacher had assured me "even a idiot could take care of".

Either my luck has changed or I've found an exceptionally hearty plant and convinced it to thrive under my care. Not that I am complaining, mind you. I feel like a proud parent on graduation day. Just look at my baby!

For a better looking tomorrow…

On Sunday morning I woke up to find my husband all giddy with excitement.

No, not like THAT. All heads out of the gutter, please.

The night before, I had gotten home, showered, and passed out after a long day of playing in my garden and running errands. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep on my back – a position I almost never sleep in (I am normally a tummy or side sleeper).

Anyway, to make a long story short, I started snoring. And Trevor, being the a$$ that he is, decided to record it on his cell phone, and play it back for me the next morning.

That boy is a catch. A catch, I tell you!
[Cut to me attempting to claw Trevor's eyes out...]

Apparently, Trevor didn’t think I believed that I snored. Whatever. Everybody snores. Some louder and more frequently than others (i.e. Trevor). I am under no illusions. And, of course, it doesn’t help that it is March and I am slowly drowning in my own post nasal drip (consequence of being allergic to the State of Texas).

The recording went something like this:

Me: [Softly Snoring]

Trevor: [Giggle]

Me: [Snore, snore, snooooooooore]

Trevor: [Snicker, giggle, giggle, giggle]

And so forth and so on for about five minutes.

Yes, it is official: My husband is a jacka$$.

General Weirdness...

Last night I had a dream. More specifically, I had a dream between the 5:11 AM and 6:10 AM (when my alarm went off).

In my dream, Trevor and I were relocating to be closer to my grandmother (which is odd since I no longer have any living grandparents, and we already live within walking distance of Trevor's grandmother), and were in the process of buying a house. We had looked at several (including an old, historic home with no walls and tight staircases to nowhere), but ended up deciding on a rather large residence across the street from my grandmother's retirement center.

Moving day arrived, and the trucks came with all of our stuff inside. But the house we were moving into wasn't empty like it was supposed to be. On the contrary, it was still full of the former occupant’s possessions and everything was a mess. A lot of the furniture was in really bad shape, and Trevor and I decided to call a donation service to come and pick up everything to make room for our stuff. They arrived a few minutes later (funny how time never makes sense in dreams), and I escorted them through the house - explaining what needed to go in each of the rooms. I remember there being a couple of items that I was considering keeping, but these pieces were few and far between. Most were either ornately carved or seemed to be antiques that I could either incorporate into my own stuff or possibly sell online.

Anyway, it was during this initial walk through with the donation service that the former occupants came home (and the dream took a turn for the bizarre).

The former owners were the Duggars. We had somehow bought their home without knowing it and they had forgotten to move out. They were also not-so-thrilled that Trevor and I were moments away from donating their stuff to Good Will.

Trevor and I decided to give the Duggars awhile to get their affairs in order, pack and move out. Coordinating such a large family was proving to be chaotic, and for some reason Trevor and I spent most of the second half of the dream teaching Jim Bob and Michelle how to Skype with one another from different parts of the house to help facilitate communication. This was much easier said than done (the Duggars seemed a little technologically impaired), but I was making slow progress with Michelle in the family room. In fact, Michelle was just about to Skype with Jim Bob in the kitchen for the first time when my alarm went off.

I have no idea what all of this means, but I keep thinking about it. Trevor and I have watched the TLC show about the Duggars in the past, but not recently. There is no reason why I should be dreaming of them. Or relocating for that matter. It was all very odd.

Thoughts?

Good Job, Women!

Completely cracked me up...

It has already been six months...

...who said it wouldn't last?!

I guess somethings don't always mean the same thing that they do here...

My friend, Hilary, posted this on Facebook along with the following caption:

"Hahaha my father in law saw the poster while changing trains in Frankfurt and decided to share it with us lol..."

Awesome.

That kind of day...

I feel VERY strongly that if a drink says "Shake Well" it should not explode all over me, my car and meeting notes.

The Phantom...

For Valentine's Day, Trevor bought me tickets to see The Phantom of the Opera. Our tickets were for last night, and the production was - in a word - AWESOME.

Of course, I've been a fan of The Phantom since I was a child. I had the entire musical memorized by age 10. I used to listen to the songs over and over and over again. I have always been captivated by the story, and would still - without a doubt - choose The Phantom over Raoul. A point which Trevor finds disconcerting. Something about The Phantom being a deformed, murdering psychopath. Whatever. The Phantom is just a little socially awkward, if you ask me. Hence the reason he lives in the sewer underneath the Paris opera house. He is a musical genius, and loves Christine with his whole being. Maybe - with today's advances in mental health - The Phantom could have gone to therapy, worked through some of his disfigurement and my-mommy-never-loved-me-enough-and-made-me-where-a-mask issues. If he had, I am sure he would have been able to express his love to Christine in the regular way (i.e. without all the death and kidnapping). Unfortunately, The Phantom of the Opera was born in a time before the invention of plastic surgery and social anxiety drugs, like Paxil.

Trevor just doesn't understand true love.