Fight for Your Right to Party

Ok, it wasn’t a “fight”, nor is it a “right”, but since it was her Sweet Sixteen, Eldest got to host a party. It was small, thank goodness, but still a lot of fun for them. Why? Because the theme of the party was PAINT.

This was the cake:

Those are NOT flowers. Eldest wouldn’t be caught dead with a cake that had flowers. Unless they were black roses, and I had to nix that. Those are paint “splotches” made from delicious buttercream frosting. We are not fond of fondant here at Casa de Aggie. The “16” is a cookie made in the form of a paint brush. The table was decorated with a canvas dropcloth, and we had set up paints, brushes and a water pail outside next to the large canvas dropcloth that was designated for their artistic talents. But as usual, the best laid plans…

Title of artwork: Aftermath

I told them specifically that they could also paint on their clothing only, provided they didn’t smear paint on hair. Well, that went unheeded. Not only were they fully covered in paint, they went out to the street and paraded for the cars driving by. An activity that facilitated drying of the paint. In their hair.

Did I mention the girls ALL had long hair? And some of the boys, as well?

And did I mention this was a dual sleepover? As in Son had two friends staying, and Eldest had two friends staying?

(Disclosure- I had chaperones)

Anyway, it took a couple of hours for the paint to be peeled, PEELED from hair, over which time the kids were taking turns washing it off. But all in all, the kids had a great time, and are wanting to plan another party, this time without the paint. Frankly, after the wanton sacrilege of my bathtub, I’m leery of having paint anywhere near the house:

THE HUMANITY!!!!

And that was only half of the paint that was peeled from Eldest’s hair. Yes, I cried.

All in all, the party was a huge success, and I was very impressed with her friends, all of whom behaved with respect and good manners, and were funny and sweet.

Next time, I think I will do permanent markers, instead 😉

When Nature Laughs

Sorry for the lack of any posts on Sunday. I was still recuperating from Eldest’s party, which was a smashing success! One of the many things I did on Saturday was drive to a mall to pick up one of her friends, who lives waaaaaaaaaay out of town. And since it was early in the day, and it was still on the cool side, we decided to sit outside in the patio of the food court hall (it’s a hoity-toity mall). Anyway, Eldest and I are talking, and going through the rest of the itinerary, when suddenly she asks, “Mom, what kind of spider is that?”

And I turn around to see this:

Object in photo is larger than it appears.

I was pretty sure it was just a garden spider of some sort, and not deadly. But decided to seek some professional advice, and text Hubby:

Me: OMG!!! What kind of destroyer of worlds is this spider?? It’s four inches long!!

Hubby: It looks like a variant of either a garden spider or a banana spider. The body shape favors the garden spider. It’s a female.

Me: So I was right in calling it a “destroyer of worlds”.

Hubby: Yes…yes, you were.

Eldest had noticed that she was consuming something rather large, and wondered what it could be. I had thought it might be a bee, since the flowers are in bloom and bees are plentiful.

Then again, so are the hummingbirds… 😉

Paradoxes

It has come to my attention that in life, there are some paradoxes that can’t be explained. Right now, one of them is bugging me no end:

Why is it that my Home Owners Association demands that we water our lawns and keep them green, but the city demands that we only water once a week, and for only an hour??

That’s not my lawn, but close enough. Thankfully, we had a nice day of rain yesterday. No deluge, but at least it was steady, and between that and watering my lawn on the sly, perhaps the backyard will be nice and pretty for Eldest’s party come Saturday. Oh, I do have a sprinkler system, but my water bill was astronomical, so now I have the wavy sprinkler and do hand watering when I remember to do it.

Sigh….

 

Dog Days of Summer

Well, apparently they are here rather early. This week has been very hectic at Casa de Aggie. Hubby has been in a hurry to receive certain documents for his board, and I have been in a hurry to find them! Luckily, all that got done, thanks to Eldest, who knows how to scan and attach (whatever that means) to emails.

The girls decided to weed out their wardrobes, and generously donated everything yesterday. And they were generous…. five garbage bags and one huge box of clothing, to include jackets, coats, shirts, dresses, and several pairs of brand new shoes, since according to Little One, Momma doesn’t have good taste.

Seriously, she said that. I too, am appalled.

So, hopefully as this week winds down, I’ll be able to post more. First, I have to rescue the front lawn, though. Oh, and replace the outdoor ceiling fans, and trim the front tree and plants. Also, have to get things moving for Eldest’s Sweet Sixteen party, and pick a day to finally sort the filing. Maybe.

Sigh….. 🙂

‘Fessing Up

They say confession is good for the soul, and this letter is about confessing something to someone. This will not be pretty.

But after 25 years, I feel it has to be done.

Dear In-Laws,

I love you to death. I do. You guys have treated me like your own daughter for over two decades. We’ve had our ups and downs, and even though life is like a roller coaster in our family, I have to confess something to y’all, and you won’t like it.

I despise Cajun food.

Dirt flavored ICK.

Ok, “despise” is a harsh term. “Loathe”  comes closer to the disgust I feel when I try to ingest Cajun food. It tastes like dirt to me. Dad always thinks he is fixing a special treat for me when he makes his famous Shrimp Gumbo. And he is, judging by the excited faces of the rest of the family as they wait, salivating for a bowl of your majikal stew. But every…single…time I have tried it, it feels like I am swallowing dirt-covered food. And I should know what dirt tastes like! In 25 years I have not been able to adapt to Cajun food, and I think it is safe to say, I never will. I’m sorry, but next time you are serving Cajun I am running to Sonic.

And don’t get me started on the Ox-Tail Soup.

Love y’all,

Me.