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October 2003 Daily Stitch
Read from bottom, up
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The boys are home, safe and sound, a bit worse for wear, and proudly wearing second-place medals! Congratulations, Demolition CReW on a job very well (and safely) done! They've all come down with horrific colds though. I'm trying to talk Brian into going to the doctor, but you know how men are. *sigh* I am in cheesecake-heaven-reach-to-the-stars-and-make-me-wanna-cry-out-in-confectionary-BLISS! The gals from Carnegie Deli had the biggest bleeping cheescake I have EVER seen delivered to my front door yesterday, and I am positively SPEECHLESS (mostly because my mouth is crammed full of cheesecake!) First off, this bad boy weighs in at THIRTEEN POUNDS!!!! For those looking for a comparison, it's the size of two babies!! And the size - it's like half a foot tall, and bigger than any dinner plate I have ever filled! Honestly - it's *almost* as big as the satellite dish in my backyard! And taste. Ohhhhhhhhhh. It's like velvet on a fork. The only condition these WONDERFUL women at Carnegie Deli gave me was: "Be sure to save a slice for that hottie Geof." I told Geof he can come over once the cold remedy antibiotics kick in, but not to contaminate me OR the cheescake until he is feeling better! To the ladies at Carnegie Deli: THANK YOU! And to everyone else out there, if you ever need a "get out of jail card free" card because you're in the doghouse with the spouse/boss/mother-in-law, or if you forgot Mom's/Dad's/Auntie Gert's birthday, CALL THESE PEOPLE!!!!! Their
digits are: Call TOLL FREE 9AM-4PM EST 877.898.3354 or 201.507.5557
Fellas, Let me tell you. If you're looking for a way to do some serious sucking up or trying to woo a sweets-loving gal. This is it. Buy her one of these cheesecakes and you will FOREVER be a hero. (chomp, chomp). Geof, you better hurry. I cannot be trusted. (chomp, chomp) Here we are! HALLOWEEN!!!! People, I want to see you in costume! Please send me pictures of your funny selves! As for me and Brian and what we'll be wearing on Halloween . . . I was going to surprise you with pictures, but as you all know I'm AWFUL at surprises, so I have to tell you what we will be before I explode. I will be Kate Winslet from Titanic, wearing that great big boarding hat and stripey dress. (Yeah, so I'm boring) and Brian will be cold, dead, frozen, floating Jack Dawson, complete with frozen ice-crystal snotcicles dripping from his nose. He keeps walking around rehearsing his character. Brian: "Jeepers, Rose. You coulda shoved your butt over on that big floaty thing, made some room for me, and I mighta LIVED." Me: You know, you COULD be the LIVING Jack Dawson. You'd look so handsome in a tux. Brian: What's scary about that? I wanna be dead and crusty. <Curls up fingers and starts making slurpy noises> You know, you COULD go as the OLD almost-dead Rose. You'd look so hot with no teeth and wrinkles. <wink, wink> House update: Living room painted! I will post pictures soon! I made new coverings for all the furniture, new pillows, and bought candles, flowers and girly touches. It's VERY cheerful. That's all I can tell ya for now. ;-) You'll just have to come back to see the pictures! Peace, till next |
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2003
U.S. Nationals
What does it mean? It means the Demolition CReW is in SECOND PLACE right now - Not bad!!!
Be
sure to send them emails
and cheer them on (or at least pick on them a bit! They like it!) Peace, till next |
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Go Rupert, Go Rupert, Go Rupert! Tonight my mum is in town and I will introduce her to the joys of Survivor. She doesn't watch the show, but I'll convert her. I promise. ;-) The boys start competing tomorrow - they've been busy practicing, and they're warming up for that gold medal presentation at the end! Don't forget to send them a message! and type: Message for team: Demolition CReW in the subject line! I'd like to take some time to thank some people for some extremely generous gifts. Please take a peek at Lady Janet's website by clicking here. She sent me a gift of two wonderfully scented candles - lilac - and I used them the same night I received them! My house smells FABULOUS!!! If you're looking for yummy candles, do a bit of shopping here (and she's a super nice lady too!) And my Cheesecake gals have very generously offered to send me one of their gourmet cheescakes. The only requirement is that I have to share a slice with (and I'm quoting) "That hottie, Geof." Since Geof is away skydiving, and since I'm SO INCREDIBLY NICE to give up a slice of da 'cake, I asked my cheesecake angels to hold off on shipping it until the boys return home. Let's hear it for the gals at the Carnegie Deli, Inc and for their AMAZING cheesecakes! (I'm drooling just thinking about it!) If you have time, read about their baking process - I can hardly wait to sink my teeth in! :-) And get this: Last night it SNOWED! Right now, a few miles away, Syracuse is getting hit with Lake effect. Meanwhile, Brian called last night from Florida, where they had to load up on mosquito repellent to protect their shorts-clad legs! So, what would you all think of a webcam here on the site? I could point it any number of things: Snow
piling up outside Let's hear what you think! Don't forget to cheer for Rupert tonight! WOOHOO! Peace, till next |
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WEEKEND
UPDATE It's that time of year again, folks! The boys have left the building and will be hangin' with the clouds over the next several days! You too can keep up with the events by visiting one of two websites! While they're away, I have a variety of house guests who will be in town to keep me company! So this will be fun for me too! :-) Click here for the Omniskore's 2003 coverage of the Nationals. They have a very cool feature that will allow you to send a message to your favorite team (which OF COURSE is the Demolition CReW). They'll post the message on the board for you! How fun! You can also click here to visit the OFFICIAL site for the 2003 Nationals. And remember! If they win, it's a trip to the WORLD Championships in lovely . . . <drumroll> CROATIA! <ahem> WOOHOO! (Yeah, if you're face looks like this, I had the same reaction too.) Peace, till next |
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10-17-03
FRIFRIFRIDAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!! Ladies, ladies (and gentlemen too!) I am *all* about making us feel better about ourselves, so please take a look at this page. It's gonna make your day to know that this is how models REALLY look before all the airbrushing and photo fixing. And remember, the only perfect person on this planet is *you.* (And you have my permission to explain this fact to anyone who isn't aware of it. If they get confused, send them to this page and I will confirm it.) A BIG YAY! to newest Survivor Addict, CHELSEY!!!!!! One of Brian's co-workers came over for the festivities last night and we charmed her over to the dark side. (Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated.) Welcome, Chelsey! :-) And now for the exciting conclusion of
We
had some GREAT answers, and I'll go over a few of them. Our friend Jamie wrote with this possible diagnosis: -----Original
Message-----
Hopefully, it's nothing serious. Hope your arm feels better soon! -Jamie Ps.
I love The Daily Stitch, it keeps me occupied during my long day. Jamie, that's an AWESOME answer! I even like the name of the critter - did you look at the picture of it? He looks like a hairy thumbnail. Almost cute, even! I wouldn't mind if that was what got me, as long as it didn't leave a kazillion Puss BABIES in my arm. That would be gross. Heather Next we heard from Meghan: -----Original
Message-----
Meghan Meghan, hi! This
is a combo good/bad situation. The good news: I have bricks. The bad
news: I throw like a girl and will probably wind up taking out a few
windows. Can I throw something softer, perhaps? Another letter from my dear sister, Erin: -----Original
Message-----
Erin, GREAT! I shouldn't be tree hugging without proper protection then, yes? _________________ And Dad even wrote, too! I think his is right on the money though - the whole "stinging" thing matches up perfectly: -----Original
Message----- Hudda.....looks like contact dermatitis caused by contact with "stinging nettles"....check it out through "Google"....love to all ....dad ___________________ So I Googled it, and guess what I found! A picture of a wee child who has just been stung by nettles, and his face looks *exactly* like mine did when it happened! Click here to see! And click here to read about it! (These sound like fun people!) So, there you have it! I want to thank everyone for playing, and the next time I catch a disgusting case of crud, I will be sure to host another exciting episode of
Have a great weekend amd don't forget to cheer for the boys of the Demolition CReW next week as they attempt to bring home the gold at the annual National Skydiving Championships! WOOHOO! Peace, till next
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10-16-03
Creeping Crud Day Last weekend, as you know, Brian and I ventured deep into the jungle of our back yard. While hauling some giant logs, I was stung, or attacked, or bitten, or injected (or something) by a who-knows-what. Since the rash is really gross, I thought it would be fun to invite the world to laugh, point, stare and try to figure out what is growing on my arm. It's time to play
(growing on Heather's arm!) Now, before you email me and tell me that some prehistoric twenty-legged creature has injected hundreds of tiny eggs under my skin and tiny little velociraptors will soon claw their way out from beneath my tender flesh, you should be aware that I will CHEW my entire arm off before I even finish reading your email. So, with that - you won't really win anything, except the knowledge that I think you're cool, and so will the rest of the world. But all you have to do is send in your guess as to what disgusting thing has caused the rash on my arm. If you don't know, pretend like you do. Make something up. Have fun and most importantly, laugh at me, not with me, and make others laugh too. ;-). Here's the picture:
That's it! Take a guess and mail it in! Oh, and before I sign off, the cat told me that since I published Skye's Scary Halloween Story, the only fair thing to do would be to allow her the chance to tell her own scary tale. Then I got a half-hour lecture about equal opportunities for cats yadayadayada. So, without further ado, here is Mehitabel's story:
One day the stupid people took the stupid stinky drooling crapping food-stealing biting stupid gassy-dog for a walk and I locked the door and laughed because they are all stupid. Hahaha. The
end. Peace, till next
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10-15-03
Once upon a time, there was an amazing wonderdog named Skye who loved taking walks with his people. They walked, and ran, and his people threw biscuits for him to catch, and he was the happiest dog on earth.
One day they walked past a very peculiar place with big furry things in the field. The furry things looked like marshmallows with legs, and they smelled funny. Skye didn't like them one bit. In fact, he wanted to turn around and run home soooooo fast, but his people wouldn't let him.
Instead they laughed and pointed and said, "Look at the skeeeeeerd leeeeeetle doggie! Why he's 'fraid o' sheep!" The other one laughed and said, "Ain't he s'posed to be a sheep-herding sumthin'-er-uther?" They both chuckled and said, "Aye-yup. Some herdin' dog!" And Skye tucked his tail between his legs and shivered because those marshmallows with legs were standing there STARING at him, and he knew that they would eat him if they had the chance. Later that night, the tall person sat down and spoke to Skye. "Skye, my laddie. You can't be 'fraid no sheep. Yer the bossa them, and they hafta listen to ya." Skye nodded and decided that starting tomorrow, he would show those puffy marshmallows who was boss. Tomorrow came, and Skye jumped for joy. He was going to be the boss today. And as he neared the smelly walking marshmallow field, he saw one of them look up at him. The scariest one of all. The meanest looking marshmallow of the bunch! And immediately Skye's tail started to dip between his legs.
"No fair," said Skye! "Stop looking at me, you stupid marshmallow!" The sheep all looked at the scaredy little doggie with his tail between his legs and stared harder.
"BLAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" Skye cried and ran home. That evening the tall person spoke to Skye again. "Sky, m'laddie, there's no reason ta be skeerd of some wee baaa-babies! There's nothin' they kin do to ya, ye little nipper! You are the bossa them! So tomorrow I want you to march yer little patootie up there and show them who is in charge!" The next morning Skye was so happy! He bounced and hopped all the way to the stinky walking marshmallow field and as he approached them, he saw the scary one look his direction. Skye could swear he saw fangs, but he kept moving forward, singing a little song. "stuu-hooo-hoooo-pid mar-har-har-shmallowwwwwssssssss...." Skye looked around out of the corner of his eye. The marshmallows were all looking at him. "I ha-ha-hate you and I'm g-g-g-gonna sh-sh-sh-show yoooooooo whoo-ho-ho-hoooooo is in ch-ch-ch-charge . . . " Skye looked around nervously. His heart was pounding in his chest. The other walking marshmallows were staring at him as he crept forward, inch by terrifying inch. Slowly,
the marshmallows surrounded Skye. Skye held his breath, waiting to
see what would happen next. Fear crept into his stomach, twisting,
turning, making him want to run away oh-so-fast, but he remembered
what the tall one had said: And the sheep ate him. And his people were stupid. The end. by Skye McDougal, the dog. p.s. The cat is stupid too. ********************************* Update: Email from Sister Erin -----Original
Message-----
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10-14-03 - The Odd Couple. People are always asking me what it is between Brian and me that works so well. It's hard to say, really. On the surface, we laugh well together - we both share a Beavis-brain-sized, toilet-brand sophomoric sense of humor and giggle at words like "Pianist." We love spending time with each other, and rarely does it matter what we are doing, as long as we are doing it together. <Insert "awwwww" moment> (I heard ya say it!) We love Skyewalking, looking at bugs, taking out the trash, burning backyard brush, driving to see my family - doing pretty much anything together is fun-time for us. We can find a way to have fun scraping mineral deposits off the inside of toilet-bellies, as long as we're doing it together ***************** Brian:
<stab, stab with the toilet brush> Me:
<grabbing toilet brush - poke, poke> Brian:
<grabbing toilet brush - nudge, nudge> Skye: <poking head in toilet, lick, lick> Me and Brian: EWWWWW!!!! Hahahahahahahahahaha! That was TOTALLY SICK! Hahahahahahahaha! ******************* And yet on other levels we are complete bi-polar opposites: He
is a free spirit, living for the moment. He
considers today. I
ponder "Oh no! what if this were to happen . . . " In the Yin and Yang of this world, he is strawberries and cream, and I am the letter "Q." But on another level, after wading through the muck and mire and all the crap that just doesn't matter, we found something that makes the cog turn effortlessly - like waves in the ocean - in spite of all the nagging little idiosyncracities that bugger the toes off each other. ;-) Note: The character of Archy, created by Don Marquis in 1916, was a cockroach who had been a poet in a previous life. To write his poems, he must leap headfirst onto the keys of a typewriter, and is unable to capitalize his letters or use punctuation. Here is one of archy's poems, and my favorite. the
lesson of the moth by archy i
was talking to a moth
archy So there you have it, folks. Among the cosmic inter-galactic rules of love, romance and matters of the heart; amongst firey passions of twin-flames, soul-mates and glittery moon-glow fairy-tales of love, honor, chivalry, knights and damsels, Brian and I are not some poetic Shakespearean poem. Nosirree. The truth of it is: Brian is my moth, and I am his cockroach, and it really, really works. :-) Peace, till next. |
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10-13-03 - Cleanin' up da crap. UPDATE:
Sorry
'bout this, folks - I cancelled my Friendster account today because
all the sudden I was getting Bingo-loads of S*P*A*M. I don't know
if they are the reason why, but I hate S*P*A*M enough to cancel my
Friendster account, just in the off-chance they are responsible for
it. So, if you joined because of me - my apologies. You can still
keep your account active if you want to - the site *is* pretty cool
- But I had to make a personal choice between junk mail and business
mail. And since I don't really need male-body-part enlargement pills,
I will dump Friendster and stick with my normal emails. :-) We've got a few ideas about what to do with it. Of course, the first thing Brian said was (with his big, boyish grin): "Jeep Satellite Dishing!!!!" For those who don't know, we have this fun wintertime activity called "Jeep (fill-in-the-blank)ing." We wait until the snow falls, then we tie something (anything that will hold people) to the back of Geof's jeep and drag it through the snow-covered back forty at his camp. So
far we have tried: So Geof came over to check it out. We just needed to look at it for a bit and sort it out in the old noggin'. A few more ideas about what-to-do with this magnificent treasure were considered: Skateboard
ramp Before you start thinking about what our eventual yard will look like, with satellite anal probes cluttering up the landscape, I have to clarify: no, we're not ghetto. (well, maybe we are - just a bit. ;-) We're "creatively recycling." (And besides, we can't figure out how the hell to "dispose" of a 20-foot high satellite dish.) After we finished hauling the brush, we piled it on to an old garage foundation and set it ablaze. Brian kept screeching, "Fire! Fire! Burn them all! Bwhahahaha!" And when I looked at him with one eyebrow raised, he shrugged as the words were beyond his control and told me, "Hey! That's what the voices are saying . . . " <wink, wink>. Peace, till next. |
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10-10-03 - Stuff is CRAP Day. As a kid, I remember stuff not being so crappy. "STUFF" being ANYTHING, and "CRAPPY" meaning POORLY MADE. Back then an iron and ironing board would last long enough to become hand-me-downs because they were made of Superman Steel and would never, ever die. So my mom used her mom's iron, who used her mom's iron, who used the iron that was smuggled over on the boat, forsaking all food, just so she could have the heirloom iron from her mother's mother's mother that wasn't a giant plastic piece of crap. Unfortunately, I took one look at irons and said, "That's what permanent press is for" as I walked out of the house ironless and naive. I didn't realize that someday I would be a sewin' and ironin' fool, and that permanent press meant I would be permanently pressing my nose to the ironing board (instead of the grindstone). So, Young Brian was running late today. I offered to do the morning Skyewalking and would make coffee. I Skyewalk (whatta good boy). I make coffee. Brian have been living together for three years and have gone through four coffee makers already. The last one was discarded because I accidentally melted the cord (don't ask) and everytime I moved it, I endured electro-shock therapy. We figured it was time to get a new one. We bought the Turbo-Deluxe-Electra 2005 (two years ahead of its time) because it has that snazzy "Sneak-a-sip" feature. (You can grab a cuppa before it's done brewing and sip ultra-leaded fuel to super-charge your body into action.) It's a sleek, jet black model. Ohsofine. It beeps when it's done brewing. It has timers and bells and whistles and makes us look soooooo coooooool. So I come back from Skyewalking, and grab my handy-dandy cuppa, and I am sure-as-shingles gonna sneak-a-sip. I do. It is mud. It's pouring out in clumps, and the handy dandy shut off thingy has not shut off, so sludge is oozing out all over the hotplate, bubbling and gurgling, and spilling onto my shiny black digital button pad. Digital numbers start blinking. The machine starts screaming like those damned wombats in my basement. BleeEEEEbapbapbapbapGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEErwwwwwwipipipipip. Skye FREAKS. He's growling, barking, jumping, his hair is standing up and he is ready to KILL the Turbo-Deluxe-Electra 2005 with the "Sneak-a-sip" feature. I push the off button. It stays on. I unplug it, and it's still brewing and bubbling and even though it is no longer SCREAMING at me, Skye is still trying to rip its innards out. So, here I sit. Coffeeless. My sleek, shiny BRAND NEW Turbo-Deluxe-Electra 2005 with the "Sneak-a-sip" feature is in a big angry heap on my front lawn, because Friday is crap (trash) day, and that's what my Turbo-Deluxe-Electra 2005 with the "Sneak-a-sip" feature IS. UTTER CRAP. I wish my mom's mom's mom's mom had brought over HER coffee maker. It may not have been pretty, but I bet it delivered. Skye is in his crate, fuming at me because I wouldn't let him kill the shiny black plastic attack-wombat he had cornered in our kitchen. He could have been the hero, but I ruined it for him. I already forecast that my eventual children will despise me for things like this. But . . . It's FRIDAY!!!!!!!! I HAVE A HOUSE!!!!!!! It's AUTUMN!!!!!!! and BRIAN'S MOM IS COMING TO VISIT US!!!!!!!! YAY!!!!!!!! Update: Erin emailed last night and Shanny and I owe her a BIG APOLOGY. She lectured me about how new mothers are NOT lazya$$es. They are BUSY. She couldn't call me, NOT because she is a lazya$$, but because: She was making toasted cheese sandwiches She has a new baby It's Thursday (must see TV) Night and DON'T MESS WITH THAT! So, with that, Erin, mon chickadeee, Take the day off, baby. You deserve it for bein' the best toasted-cheese-makin'-new-motherin'-must-see-tv-viewin' gal I know. You, my sister, deserve this day all to yourself. :-) (Can I hold the baby now?) Peace, till next. |
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10-09-03 - Call me DIAGNOSED! YAY!!!!! I've ben so icky-sick. (gross bowel story coming up, so don't read this if I'm going to offend you) ******* Don't read past here if you will be repulsed! I'm warning you! It's sick, scary stuff! Okay, you've been warned! Not my fault if you vomit on the computer screen ********* About every six months to a year (or so it seems), I come down with this painful, disgusting thing that has been diagnosed as Irritable Bowel Syndrome (or Spastic Colon) which are probably two of the most dainty, elegant-sounding afflications a girly-girl like me could possibly have, dontcha think? All I can picture is my colon draped out on the sidewalk, twitching and spazzing in an ugly, stinky mess. Or my bowel, sitting in a corner, skulking, stinking, making crabby faces at everyone who passes by. You can actually see the green funk cloud above it's angry head. Not a very ladylike image, eh? (ahhh, so now I know - you're a sick li'l monkey like me and you enjoy reading gross bowel stories! Hehehe) In case I haven't been graphic enough, I'll explain what happens: I get this icky feeling in my stomach, and it hurts a lot for about three days, followed by what I call "THE GRIPPERS" (when you GRIP the toilet seat and with white knuckles till the pain subsides) and then I get what I call "THE SQUITTERS" (and I'm sure you can use your imagination on that one. It is what it sounds like.) (Again, sorry if I'm offendin' any of ya - but you've grown to love me because I tell it like it is, without being embarrassed about it.) ;-) And we *all* poo, whether we admit it or not. Also - the word GRIPPERS throws me into fits of laughter. And it's really funny, because skydivers have handles on their jumpsuits for other skydivers to grab onto, and they are called - you guessed it! GRIPPERS!! (hahahahahahahahahahahaha) Anyway - this IBS thing goes on for about 4-5 days - throws me completely out of commission, makes me hurt, makes me whine, and forces Brian to take care of me or I'll whine louder. HOWEVER!!! Last year I took ibuprofen and my face swelled up so big I looked like Eric Stoltz in The Mask (Not kidding!) and then my throat started constricting! It hurt even MORE! So Brian took me to the ER in the wee hours of the AM, all puffy, looking like I'd swallowed a hundred pounds of marshmallows. ER docs: You've got IBS, and had an allergic reaction to the ibuprofen. How much did you take? Me: Just the recommended dosa- ER docs: You must've taken more than the recommended dosage to swell up like this. Your face is huge! And your throat is constricting. And from the description of the pain, it sounds like you took SO much that you've managed to eat the lining of your esophagus away. Me: Ummmmm, well I thought I was taking the recommended dosage . . . Them: You couldn't have. Now, we have to do a pelvic exam to rule out other abdominal probs Me: Whoa! Doc! Have you LOOKED at my face??? Dontcha think you're barking up the wrong end of the tree there? Them: Yes, we've seen your face. It's huge. We told you why. If you won't let us do the exam, there's nothing more we can do for you. Heather leaves, whines, Brian makes soup. So, last Friday a dreaded IBS episode starts, I deal with it - and then, you got it, THE SWOLLEN TONGUE! (which I assume is a sushi allergy) HOWEVER!!!!! (it's so exciting!) The face swelling was followed with MY THROAT CONSTRICTING almost 24 hours later!!!!!!! And I hadn't taken ANY ibuprofen in a year!!!! So, mom calls: Heather, you could die if you don't find out what this is. Me: Maaaaaaaaaa. (Not worried - I've never felt like I was close to dying) Ma: I'm going to look it up on the internet and find out why your throat does that. I'm telling you, it's not normal and you could DIE! Me: K, Mom. You go to town. When you find out what it is, let me know, k? Ma: I will! <five minutes later, one link is sent to me from my mother: click me for fun gross stuff!> I make an appointment to see the doc, doc sees all these brochures I've printed out, is blown away and says, "Yes! I think this is it!" Doc: However, you're going to have to get past this thing. You're not 12 anymore. You will have to go home, call your mother and say those four magical words that will make her heart sing: Mom, you were right. I go home, ready to make that call. However, there are 162 dozen messages on my answering machine, 32 emails to me, Brian, both of my sisters, two of my customers, and a long lost Aunt in Alaska. All of them are from my mother. All of them say pretty much the same thing: WHERE IS HEATHER?????? DID SHE DIE??????? I WARNED HER ABOUT IT!!!!! I TOLD HER SHE MIGHT!!!!! HEATHER!!!!! CALL ME OR I'M COMING OUT THERE AND BREAKING YOUR DOOR DOWN!!!!!!!! Love, So I call, she answers. I get five minutes about how she nearly died of a heart attack and I have to stop torturing her like this because it's not funny to not answer my phone, because she's sure I'm dead from thoat-ee-oh-sis. And I say it: Mom, you were RIGHT!!!!! We danced, we sang, we had a great little phone party and life was groovy. And the best part about all this: I'm *not* allergic to all those foods I thought were triggering IBS episodes, which means I can eat ONIONS and SHRIMP and LOBSTER and CRAWFISH and SUSHI and CHEESECAKE (actually, I never *was* allergic to cheesecake, but it sure sound good, doesn't it?) So I'm thinking dinner at RED LOBSTAH is in order. Mom can come, And I've promised not to fake die on her anymore. ;-) ******************** From:
Shannon Heather, Dad has arrived in Floriduh. Erin (lazya$$) has asked me to email you to let you know.
And said "tell her I read her blog and its hysterical and tell
her to put something on it to say why Henry is living with them, and
tell K. Gotta go!! Love
ya, *********************** Tune
in tomorrow when we answer all of Erin's questions, but only if she
gets up and CALLS ME. ;-) Dad! Glad you made it back south again all safe and sound, but I already miss ya! Come back soon! :-) Peace, till next. |
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10-06-03 - Call me THE TONGUE GREAT day yesterday. Sister Shanny and I went to see Matchstick Men (great) and had sushi for dinner! I went to bed early though - very tired. Wee hours of the morning journal: It's Monday. It's dark. It's roughly three in the morning, or as my sister would call it: Oh-dark-thirty. I'm awake because I'm itchy, and I'm wriggling around so much that I have almost hurled myself out of bed. My ears are on fire. Mid-scratch, nature makes her call, and I stumble to the bathroom. I step into the room and I hear this: Skitter-skitt-skitter-skitter-skat-skat-skitter-skitter-sliiiiiiide-skit. Translation: I am the thing nightmares are made of, and I'm directly over your head, ready to rip your face off. Ohjaysusjinglingjehosephat. There's a critter somewhere in the ceiling above my head. I'm in the dark, my ears are itching double-time for some weird reason, and I have to pee. I blast on the light, look around, see nothing . . . But I can *hear* it. And the only thing I know about the shadow-creep-critter is: it ain't friendly, and it's gonna wait till I'm mid-pee to pounce on my head from some hidden corner of the bathroom. I clear my throat to scare it away. I whistle. It quiets. <Mental note: throat feels funny> I pee - it starts to make noise again.I know it's preparing to attack me. I get scared. I finish, RUN back to bed, POUNCE back into bed and scream at Brian, who is sound asleep: CHEESHUSHHH, BLIAN!!!! DERSH A LEEEEELLLLEEEE BIG FLEEEEEKINNN ANNNMALLLLLLl NNN DA THEEELINK!!!!!! <Mental note: That didn't sound right! - scratching ears - why do they itch so much???> Brian, freaked, waking up with a jolt: Huh? What? What did you just say????? Me: DERSH A LEEEEELLLLEEEE BIG FLEEEEEKINNN ANNNMALLLLLLl NNN DA THEEELINK!!!!!! Brian, sitting up: WHAT?????? Me: CHEEESH!!! MY TUNNNNN ISH ALLLL SLOLL-N UP!!!!! LOONK! IT FEEELSH HOOOOOOG!! Brian: Oh my gosh! Look at your tongue!!! It's HUGE! Me:
DASH WHA I SHID!!!!!!!! AND DERSH A LEEEEELLLLEEEE BIG FLEEEEEKINNN
ANNNMALLLLLLl NNN DA THEEELINK!!!!!! Brian: Are you having an allergic reaction? Me:
Nesh <nod, nod, nod> Brian: Want some Benadryl? Me: Nesh mleesh. <nod, nod, nod> and whispering: lut ar loo dunna doo amout dat leely big annnnmllll nnn da theelink? Brian: Don't worry - go back to sleep. ******************************** Brain
emails me this morning after he gets to work: My response - no, but I called mom and she said "YOU BETTER GO TO THE HOSPITAL 'CAUSE YOU WILL PROBABLY DIE!!!!!!" <Fade to phone call with mom> Me: Maaahhh I woooll me otay. Mom: Heather! This isn't something to joke about! I'm going to call you in one hour to make sure you're ok. If you don't answer the phone, I'm sending an ambulance. YOU BETTER ANSWER THE PHONE!!!!!! Me: Ohhh, foo peeees sake, maahhhh! I woooll meee fiiiiiiine!!! ******************************************* Me:
<picking up the phone, screaming> AAAkkkkkkkk-aaaakkkkkk-JUOBFENMCU-CU-CU-ODAHOFF-N-MUFFERGOOM-BACKITITY-GABGOB!!!!
<pause> Mom: <pause, low, angry mom voice> Heather Lea, you should be ashamed of yourself. You just gave your mother a heart attack. That was very unfunny. Me:
Hahahahahahaha! <mental note: feel shame> <someday> <once the swelling goes down> ;-) Peace, till next. |
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10-04-03 - October Rainy Season ************************************ Email from Brian: -----Original
Message----- Baby, Great picture of Henry. Just so you know, he's a real pig. When you're not around, he talks bad about you, kicks the cat and he scratches himself a lot. Okay, maybe I'm a little jealous, but at least I wear pants...most of the time. B ************************************ I just cleaned out my costume closet to make room for my new upcoming winter designs, and I have listed a TON of items on eBay. If you want to see them, click here. I will list a bunch of things during this month, so if you need Faire garb, Halloween costumes or Carnivale/Mardi Gras outfits and masks, I'll be listing a bunch of stuff for you! Some are spooky, some are elegant, and some are really fun and trashy. No doubt, something for everyone. It's pouring rain today and Skye doesn't feel like doing his morning "business." He just wants to stand in the rain, get wet, and chew on sticks. I don't like standing in the rain getting wet, or chewing on sticks, so it's not much fun for me. It's one of those days where curling up in bed and reading a good book is your best option. Unfortunatley I'm at peak costuming season, so I won't get to do any of that until after Halloween. ;-) Peace, till next. |
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UPDATE: Please check this site out and sign up for it! (It's friendster.com - and I signed up to see what it's all about. I now need "friends" on my page, so please join and be my friend!) The scoop: Friendster is an online social networking community that connects people through networks of friends for making new friends. How does it work? Friendster allows you to create a personal and private networking community where you can network through your friends, their friends, and so on. How
do I use Friendster? Just create a quick profile and add your friends to your personal and private networking community. Then you can see the friends of your friends, and browse and search through all of the people connected to you through networks of friends. You can view photos and profiles, see how you are connected to people, send messages, ask friends for introductions, or suggest matches between people. Note from me: So basically I think this is a GREAT way for me to do some serious matchmaking for my single friends! Also, a great way for me and Bri to find kayaking people in our area, or a FUN way to inspire gossip! Either way, BE MY FRIEND! (It's free, and they promise not to SPAM you) (Brett, this means you too!) And
now back to our daily stitch: 10-03-03 - Brrr-chilly-chilly-brrr-chilly-chilly-brrr-chilly-chilly-brrr-chilly-chilly! My Bri-Guy leaves for an away-weekend team practice today, and that's the last one before the BIG competition! Are we excited for him? We sure are! My sister is coming out to play with me this weekend. We're going to make Spider cookies, watch Nightmare before Christmas, visit some roadside pumpkin stands, drink cider, and sew, sew, sew. <big smile> I've got the best family in the world (Actually, I'm tied - Brian's family is equally as awesome, so I'm phenomenally lucky, yes?) We've got a new guy living with us right now. He's single, quiet and doesn't eat a lot, but Brian might be a little jealous because I spend all my time with this new guy lately. His name is Henry.
Brian: Ohhh, so he's a KING, eh. What's so special about THAT? Does he look like this guy yet?
He's still got a bit of work to go, but I'll keep the pictures coming as I go along. So why is King Henry living with me? It's a secret for now, but if you're patient, I'll tell you the whole story soon! Be sure to tune in later! ;-) I *can* tell you that every time I go upstairs, he scares the b'juggers outta me as he hides in the dark corner of my office! Peace, till next. |
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10-02-03 - Almost time for NATIONALS! The boys will be leaving in a few short weeks to compete in the National Skydiving Championship Competition! Their last weekend of away practive is already upon us, then the competition starts up and fdinishes . . . then I get Brian all to myself again! WOOHOO! Good
luck, boyos! We're cheering for ya! You gotta gotta gotta check out this band if you like alternative music. They're called Fiction Plane, and the lead singer is Sting's son. Click here to read a little bit about the band. And then scroll down to the bottom where it says "Click here to listen to Fiction Plane" and click there! Listen to "Hate" - it's FAB! I've been listening to it all morning, and it makes me want to lock myself in my bedroom, hate things, and slink back into angry teenager mode. <scowling nod, arms crossed> Weren't those teenage years just THE BEST? <hahaha> I remember sitting in my room listening to Marillion's Misplaced Childhood album, hating things. I wanted to paint my room black - Mom probably would have let me, and I probably would have done it if I hadn't been so darn lazy. (Another symptom of teen-itis) However, if I had painted it, it would have made people think that I actually cared about something, and that would have ruined my bitter teen reputation. It was much more important to sit around, scowl, cry about the unfair treatment of teens, be cranky to the world and hate things. Back then, this song would have defined my life and I would have wanted to paint it on my black walls in blood red paint. But now it kinda makes me grateful that I outgrew that lovely teen attitude. Just think - if I hadn't, I would now be the Very Cranky Seamstress! Peace, till next. |
