For the Birds

I am a big mystery fan, especially old school stuff. I can read Hammett and Christie and everything in between over and over again. The same applies for movies. The older stuff, grainy black and white, suspenseful music…ahhhh, that’s just classic.

A few weeks ago, one of the networks had an Alfred Hitchcock marathon. Y’all can imagine how jazzed I was! Four classics back to back, and no, Marnie wasn’t one of them, thank goodness. Psycho, Rear Window, The Trouble With Harry, and Rope. I got my tissues*, my cup of coffee, and my cozy throw, and sat next to Little One, who was home sick with a tummy bug. I had asked her if I could watch them and she was gracious enough to let me.

This is where y’all roll your eyes, just like I did.

First up is Psycho, and I’m enjoying it immensely, when I notice that Little One has turned over to face the TV and watch the film. I warned her that it was suspenseful, and a bit scary, but she told me she could handle it. And boy, did she handle it. At the end of the film she was raving about how awesome it was, and how we should get the DVD for it (I have it, but didn’t want her to go get it and demand to watch it again, since she missed the first fifteen minutes or so). Anyway, we end up watching all four movies and she asks me if Hitchcock made any others as suspenseful as those. “Many”, I said. “Do you have more?” she asked. “But of course, but I don’t think you are ready for some of them.” “Like which ones?” she wondered. And my soul froze, thinking of the one Hitchcock film that still manages to freak me out and leave me sleepless for days!!

I told her about Rebecca, and North by Northwest, but I kept The Birds to myself. I know my kid, and the moment she finds out birds start attacking humans in a sleepy little town, she is going to want to watch it, in the dark, all agog at Tippy Hedren in her beautiful green suit getting ravaged by crows. And then she’s going to want to sleep in my bed, where I will lay in the dark, waiting to hear the flap of wings on my roof.

No, thank you. I like being mistress of my domain.

*I always cry when Martin Balsam is killed off.

I Bleed Maroon!!

GIG ‘EM, AGGIES!! WHOOP!!

And end to an era, but a new beginning!!

BEAT THE HELL OUTTA t.u.!! 😀

A Wedding Story

Yesterday, our friend Yabu regaled us with a bachelor party story that brings tears to the eyes. I’m still laughing about it. One thing that made me laugh was the groomsmen’s use of Ray-Bans™.

I also have a story about Ray-Bans™.

When Hubby and I were deciding on groomsmen and bridesmaids gifts, we went our separate ways. That meant I would have no say in the guys’ gifts, and he would have no say in the gals’. Anyway, he decided to gift the groomsmen pewter flasks. Really nice ones that they filled with their spirit of choice and tucked into their tuxedo pockets. They stood outside the church and took sips in preparation for the wedding. This is all on video, by the way.

What I didn’t know was what Hubby and his Band of Marry Men™ were planning after that.

We get to the church (on time), and the music begins, and the flower girls go out, followed by the junior bridesmaids, and then the official bridesmaids. And then it’s my turn. I walk down the aisle on my father’s arm, the entire congregation turning to look at me (because apparently that’s what is done, right?). Halfway up the aisle I look over to Hubby, and miss a step, faltering against my dad.

They are all wearing sunglasses!!

I smiled stonily asked my dad what I should do.

He told me that was my problem.

My dad is every man’s hero.

And y’all know what the worst part is? No one but my dad, the photographer and I saw it!!! To make matters worse, my mom refused to purchase the photo of that, so I have no way of showing the kidlets what their father did to their mother on her wedding day. He still smirks about that, and relishes getting to make me freak out on our wedding.

But that’s ok. I have a lifetime in which to get even 😉

How Lucky Can One Be?

A couple of days ago, Hubby and I were talking about the happenings over there. The MFO is literally in the middle of nowhere, and getting entertainment for the troop is pretty rare. But this weekend they were going to be getting a visit from the Washington Redskins Cheerleaders.

Now, American football may not be appreciated by most of the countries represented at the MFO, but their cheerleaders sure are.

Anyway, we were talking about it, and Hubby asked me to look up a certain cheerleader that he really, really wanted to meet. I was smiling at that, thinking she sure must be attractive or maybe was originally from his neck of the woods, but no. That wasn’t the reason. This is the cheerleader :

Her name is Talmesha, and it is her fourth year as a Redskins Cheerleader. Most men would love to meet her just because of that, but Hubby isn’t most men. This is why he wanted to meet her:

[I’m] currently a graduate student at Johns Hopkins Medical School, pursuing a Ph.D. in Cellular and Molecular Medicine.  The focus of my research is breast cancer.  I graduated Phi Beta Kappa from the University of Maryland Baltimore County (UMBC) with a B.S. in Chemical Engineering and a B.S. in Mathematics.

Beauty and brains!! I was hoping he would get to meet her and have a few minutes to talk with her, but sometimes in cases like this things go too fast and there isn’t enough time to converse with everyone. So imagine my surprise to get this text from him:

Hubby: OMG. I am here treating one of the cheerleaders. She was bitten by a dog three days ago*.

Me: GET A PIC WITH HER!!!

Hubby: She left already. AND it [was] the one I wanted to talk to!

So he got to talk to her, and had a great time! Sometimes Fate decides not to twist our threads into knots, eh?

*Since she is on tour throughout the Middle East, it was difficult to get treated for a while.

I Sheet You Not

Last night my back was bothering me quite a bit, letting me know it was time for me to stretch it out. The fact that it was 11 PM may have been a factor in that. I finally locked down and went to bed, and as I laid down I gave a sigh of contentment. I can pretty much sleep anywhere, as long as my lower back has some support, like from a small pillow, if need be. No, what made me sigh in contentment were my 600 count sateen sheets.

Ahhhhh!!!

Trust me when I say, there is nothing quite like the feel of high count sheets. (Ok, maybe there is, but this is a family friendly blog, so keep it to yourself!) A couple of weeks ago, I had put a set of sheets on my bed that I had purchased back in 2000 or so. I went to bed that night, and felt like sandpaper was scratching my skin. I got up, took them off, and put a high count sheet set on my bed, consigning that other set to the donation pile. From now on, nothing less than 450 count will ever grace the mattresses in this house.

Some people may think that’s a bit high maintenance, but trust me: it’s like sleeping on a cloud. Besides, I’m totally worth it! 😉

Musical Crush

Ok, y’all know Country music isn’t my kryptonite. But sometimes there’s a song that melts the heart. This is one, sung by my latest crush, Ryan Laird:

SWOON!!!! 😉

Old Habits Die Hard

Goodness, there are so many, aren’t there? No matter how much logic or how many facts you learn to help you break them, you just can’t seem to let go.

For example, yesterday we went to the mall. On the drive there, I glance at my side mirror and see that Little One has her fingers, (not her arm or her hand, mind you), out her window. Naturally, visions of her entire arm getting snagged into a tree and being ripped off come to mind, and I proceed to freak out and scream at her to PUT HER ARM INSIDE THE CAR!!!! Why did I have that vision, you may ask? Well, when I was young, still living in Puerto Rico, my dad would take us for a drive or to visit relatives, and of course, the windows would be down. That meant, of course, that my sisters and I would fight over the window seats, which in turn would mean the one who got the seat could stick her arm out the window and feel like she was flying like Superman (No, I had never heard of Supergirl at that time. Besides, who cares??). Needless to say, my mom would yell at us to put our arms back in the car, and one day, we got the nerve up to actually ask why.

And then, my dad spoke. It’s one thing to have my mom tell us a fantastical story. We would question her endlessly with why. But when our father spoke, it was gospel. No one questioned it. NO ONE!!

So, imagine our surprise when my sister (the gutsy one) asked my mom why we couldn’t have our arms out the windows, and my father proceeded to explain:

“Your arm can get snagged on a tree branch or a bush, and get ripped off, leaving you with only one arm, and nowhere to put your purse when you grow up.”

Not just the words, but the chilling delivery of that pronouncement underlined in triplicate the veracity of that statement. Never again did I put my hand out the window. NEVER AGAIN!!!

I’m sure I have other quirks laying in wait to surface when one of my kids pull some idiotic stunt. Until then,I shall try to cut my caffeine intake and try to relax over things I can’t control…

Yeah, I’m laughing at that, too 😉

Unlucky Strikes

The best laid plans of mice and moms often fail.

Last night was the Homecoming game for Eldest and Son’s high school. We were getting ready to go, but the kitchen still had to be cleaned up. Eldest is in charge of washing the dishes, and as she was washing a glass, it slipped and broke, while she tried to catch it. The result?

My baby had a deep gash that required stitches, the first time in her young life. Four heart-wrenching stitches to her mom. But she took it all like a trooper, and even told the doctor that she would be able to get her own stitches out, because she has had experience doing it. Hubby has sure taught the kids the basics on first aid.

We missed Homecoming game, but there’s always Homecoming dance tonight!

And no, she won’t be washing dishes for a while!!

UPDATE!

Looks like The Real Dave needs a bandaid 😉

Homecoming!! Rah, Rah, Rah!!

Today is Homecoming for one of our district high schools. The kids are all excited, because it means they get to sit outside and enjoy a football game while eating all manner of junkfood and sodas for dinner. I’m excited because I don’t have to cook. As The Queen dictated, everyone should go enjoy a high school football game! The most wonderful part about a high school football game is the support for the teams, even when they are losing.

That, and the fact that we don’t have to worry about a Lockout, or some such silly thing.

One thing that is traditional here in Texas, is the Homecoming Mum. When I went to school, back in the Iron Age, your date bought you the mum, which consisted of actual chrysanthemums. He went to the flower shop, ordered however many mums he wanted, with whatever amount of ribbons, along with sundry embellishments like little cowbells, whistles, footballs, chains, etc. The tackier, the better! But as time progressed, and brought us into the Internet Age, things changed.

Ok, the tackiness survived. But nowadays, the wearer of the mum is responsible for making her own. Some young men still go out and purchase a mum for their dates, but overwhelmingly, the gals make their own. I miss the gallantry, if it can be called that, of a young man going out of his way to order a fresh mum for his girl, but on the other hand, I do like the way young women let their creativity flow when they make these ornate decorations. The flowers have since been replaced with silk ones, but that just means they can last forever 🙂

Cheap Therapy

A friend of mine was telling me a few weeks ago about her time in therapy. Now, my idea of “therapy” is not the same as hers. She had explained that she had attended therapy with a psychiatrist three times a week for a few years. At first I felt awful, not knowing what to say to her, thinking the trauma in her life must have been catastrophic. When I asked her what had happened, as gently as I could, she told me she went to a therapist in order to learn to relax.

Now, I will say that therapists do tend to help people with problems, but going to one for three times a week for years to learn to relax??

When doing this is cheaper and more satisfying??

Or this??

Or even this??

Consider this your free relaxation therapy.

Following sessions will cost extra, if needed 🙂