Blue Update

GREAT NEWS!  It seems maybe that "Blue" is not all-encompassing when it comes the descriptive powers of our new fish's name.  Blue doesn't seem to be too blue at all.  He's actually happy and healthy... says the internet, anyway.

Remember I know NOTHING about fish, so I was pretty alarmed today as I checked on him after Jack did the night time feeding.  I noticed lots and lots of weird little bubbles in the upper left corner of his little tank.  At first, I thought that maybe I hadn't rinsed the tank well enough after its homecoming and subsequent washing.  I was sure I'd poisoned the little guy. Crap.

But then I googled it with the search words "bubbles at top of betta fish tank".  I was pleasantly surprised to find out the meaning of these little bubbles.

Apparently, Blue has decided that his new home is a good one.  Good enough, in fact, that it's worthy of baby-raising (and then most likely baby-eating... but let's keep this post happy and move on).  Several sites suggested that a male betta makes a 'bubble nest' when he feels an environment is a suitable one in which a female betta partner should lay eggs up in the bubbles for him to come along and fertilize.  Check out his day's work...

So, I guess this is Blue's stamp of approval.  I sure am proud and happy that he's happy. 

As an aside, Blue's got another thing coming if he thinks that there will be any funny business with the ladies happening anytime soon though.  I don't care if you're happy and healthy or not, Mister.  Fish teenagers, geez.

These Faces

"What are these faces about?" I hear you asking.

Yes, well.  There IS a story here.  One face is freshly tear-splotchy, glum, laced with disgust, forlorn, and pitiful.  The other?  Smug.  Oh yeah.  Reeeeal smug.

But before I get to that story, I can hear my mother over all of your voices.  Yes, Momma.  Jack's lips are blue, but it's only because he's just had a bluer than blue lollipop (given to him by Grandpa before dinner... sigh) and NOT because he has a disease or is low on oxygen, needing to be examined by the nearest hospital.  (Jack always seemed a fragile and especially vulnerable infant, and so my mom worries still.)

So.  The faces.  Notice that Emma is wearing a batting helmet and holding a badminton racquet?  Yeah, well, there's just been a major argument.  See, Jack wore this helmet and held the racquet on the way to school while riding in the car this morning.  (No, I don't know why, but that's unrelated to the story.)  Unfortunately for Jack, Emma got into the car this afternoon FIRST, immediately seizing both items and declaring that it was HER TURN for possession of both.  Jack was HIGHLY irritated that things went down like this.  So.  A brute wrestling match ensued over the said items.  Yank.  Pull.  Yank.  Scream.  Pull harder. 

Eventually, as is almost always the case with any tug-of-war episode, someone let go.  It was Emma.  The racquet then came hurtling at Jack's eyeball, smacking him right in the face. 

Then crying and blaming happened.  Lots and lots of both. 

Aaaaaand... hence, the faces.

Jack's New Pet

Well, we've done cat number 1, and cat number 2.  We've also done pet ants .  Gosh, we've even inherited some tadpoles and killed plants a'plenty at the Hoodenpyle house.  Remember?  So now, we had quite a decision to make when it came to Jack's newest idea:  getting a new pet.

We decided on a fish.  (a.k.a.  something super easy for mom...)

Jack, Emma, and I all piled into the car today to go and do the pet purchasing. Jack nervously chattered from the backseat, "Mom, I'm starting to get nervous about this.  Will Cookie eat my fish?  Does Cookie ever go into my room?  Should I shut my door whenever I leave for school?" 

Emma, of course, piped in too.  "I want a fish too.  I want a fish too.  I want a fish tooooooooo.  Mom?  Can I have a fish?  I want a fish."

This continued on until we reached the pet store where I was quite overwhelmed by all the fish choices and fishy paraphenalia.  I don't know a thing about fish and certainly don't know what to get and what not to get.  So, we looked around for awhile.

Mom, can we keep the fish in my room?

Mom, can we get this one?  He's colorful.

His name will be "Blue."  Mom, I named him that because he's blue.

Alright, Jack.  You already look smitten.  Get your money out that you've saved up.  Let's go pay for him, and take him home.

Drive as slowly as you can, Mom.  And don't hit any bumps.

Welcome home, Blue. 

Braids



 Emma's new favorite hairstyle is the braid.  These braids are definitely cute, but they take no less than 20 minutes due to the fact that she's three and prefers wiggling over sitting still.  But she looks so dang cute... so I braid away.

Jack was lingering around in the bathroom during one braiding session recently.  He watched and was clearly curious. 

Jack:  "HOW are you even doing that, Mom?!"

Me:  "This is braiding.  I learned to do it when I was little."

Jack:  "Do all girls know how to do that or something?"

Me:  "No, I don't think so.  It takes lots and lots of practice.  Do you know how to do it?"

Jack:  "Uhhh, Mom?  That seems like kind of a girl thing to know.  I don't think I have to worry about that."

Me:  "Yeah, you're probably right.  It is kind of a girl thing."

(Jack starts to walk out of the room.)

Me:  "Jack, what if you grow up and get married and have a little girl one day?  What if she asks you to put some braids in her hair?"

Jack:  (shaking his head and sighing over his shoulder)  "I'll just tell her to go ask her mother."



Jim Meets Lance

I have a happy husband.  Jim got to go to the fifteenth annual Steak & Steak Dinner at the Boys and Girls Club this evening.  The featured guest speaker was the one and only Lance Armstrong.  Yes, the Lance.

Jim, as Jim will do, plotted all night at how to get within inches of his idol and come away with an autograph and perhaps a photo.  It was a tough undertaking.  Every other person in the room was formulating similar schemes.  This was no time for niceness and "After you, sir's".  This involved being one step ahead of the mob mentality.  This involved strategy.

I call this one the "go out back, behind the building, and wait for Lance to come out with his entourage" strategy. 

Wait.. that strategy actually has a longer name...  more specifically, the "appeal to Lance's soft spot for cancer patients and say you've just had your cancer surgery yesterday and can I please have an autograph, Lance?"  strategy. 

 hmm... further known as the "be totally okay with allowing him to think that, by 'cancer', you mean something much more grave than just the weird spot of surface-level skin cancer on your neck that was just removed.  So. That. You. Can. Get. An. Autograph. Strategy."

(By the way, yes, Jim has recently learned the hard way that sunscreen is a good and wise thing and that it would have been an even good-er and wise-er thing back in his teenage lifeguarding days.  He'll be okay.  But he will be an every six-monther at the dermatologist from now until eternity to cut, burn, or scoop out all the bad spots that are expected to continue developing on his skin.  But back to the story...)

Lance's autograph is now, finally, in place with a bunch of other pro cyclists that Jim has met.  Lance's signature is the big, swirly looking one that is on the top right, above the Nike swoosh.  It's the most important one.  And long awaited too.  In Monopoly, it would be like acquiring "Broadway" and then plopping down no less than about five little red hotels on it.   It is "the big doozy" amongst all the name scrawlings. 

Congrats, Jim!  I'm so glad you had a great time!

A Wednesday List

Sorry I haven't written much lately. 

Jim is gone to Vegas for a work thing.  Jim has also gotten a promotion at work which means he's going to be gone for "work things" several times a month starting pronto.  You should probably expect me to write more blog posts starting pronto.  Let me explain this. 

I've decided that sometimes I write on this blog for fun. Sometimes it's a way to feel more complete.  Sometimes it's a way to laugh.  Sometimes it's a way to feel more like me.  But almost always it's when Jim's not around.  Let's put these pieces together.  I write on the blog as a means to go from feeling less-than-better to better.  Jim's absence must make me feel less-than-better.  Jim's presence must make me feel sorta complete.  Hmm....  I'm writing now.  Jim is absent.  Yes, this is making sense.  I think I kinda like my husband.  But he is gone.  This blog will have to do.

A few of these things are items I've already texted to my Vegas-going husband, but I'll go ahead and share them with you anyway.

1.  Today as I was driving home through small-town Republic, there was a guy standing on the sidewalk beside the stop sign that I had just approached with my vehicle.  It was not a major thoroughfare.  In fact, it was an average, completely non-special, very ordinary intersection of neighborhood streets.  He was wearing a banana suit.  He was dancing.  I thought that was odd.

2.  If somehow, some way I had another daughter that was made from some sort of supersperm that could somehow, some way jump the doctor-made gap that has been forged inside of the pathways of my husband's man parts and get to my woman parts and somehow, some way make a human being, I would name her Ree.  That's a pretty cute name for a nonexistent, not gonna happen baby. (By the way, I don't need anymore kids.  I just like to think about naming them. Don't overthink this.)

3.  I'm really cold. 

4.  Emma told me today that "Cookie is going 'Meow, meow!' and that concerns" her. 

5.  Emma also reminded me today that Karate Kid (the new one) is her favorite movie, and she wants to do Karate, too, when she gets bigger.  Emma then showed me a Karate move.  It looked more like... standing on one foot with arms sort of not at all resembling Karate positions.

6.  I tried to resume exercising yesterday.  I did a 20 minute tape and then took a shower.  I had to sit down in the shower.  And today, I am so sore I can barely walk.  Yes, it was ONLY 20 minutes, and I am aware that this is pathetic.  Jim reassured me that this feeling is only temporary, and that it's only so bad because I am so, so, so out of shape.  I am not sure why I miss him. 

7.  Jim texted me that he was just awarded a monetary prize for a sales contest that his work was putting on. He then said he was going to try to double it at the Blackjack table.  I told him that I thought he should not go through with this idea because he would just lose it, and that would suck.   We compromised.  He's going to take a little chunk of it and go to the Blackjack table.  I will let you know how this goes.  I am not a gambler.  But I would be willing to wager that his "little chunk" decreases in size.  And I would be willing to wager that that's going to suck.

8.  I have to supervise Jack's teeth brushing because... and I don't know how this happens.... he always misses the brushing of ONE particular tooth.  It's a prominent, front, as-seen-in-pictures-where-smiling-is-happening tooth too.  Anyway, lately I have had to inspect his mouth after he brushes because I've discovered all kinds of yuckiness that seems to build up on this one unfortunate tooth.  It's absolutely disgusting.  And I just can't fathom how the toothbrush does not hit this tooth.    In case you are wondering, Jack was ordered to rebrush tonight.  The color of this tooth went from kind of an orange-y gagworthy tooth color to sparkly white in a matter of minutes.  I may have to be on permanent tooth vigil.

9.  Emma is three.  Last night she was thirsty.  I was playing Scrabble on my phone, as I've tended to do a little too frequently lately.  And I procrastinated on getting her her water because I was using too much of my energy trying make magic happen on the smaller-than-small Scrabble board in my hand.  She got tired of waiting.  She got a stool.  She climbed onto the kitchen counter, opened the top cabinet door, and retrieved a cup.  She unscrewed the lid of the cup and climbed back down off the counter to the stool.  She went to the fridge and opened the door.  She pressed the water dispenser with the edge of the cup.  She filled her receptacle.  She put the lid on and began to drink.  She came into the livingroom and sat in the recliner to resume watching her show.  I noticed that all of this happened some five minutes later... after I scored big in my little Scrabbley world.  When did she get so big?  And when did she do the getting big so matter-of-factly?

10.  I need to go to sleep.  Goodnight.  And goodnight, Jim.  I miss ya. ....Obviously.

New Young Fashion

Sometimes my parents like to bring Emma new clothes when they visit.  They like for her to model them.  Sometimes she cooperates.  And sometimes she doesn't. 

Apparently, this last visit was a "doesn't" day.  I received this from my stepdad and had to share.