For the past three years everyone has heard stories about my "best friend Chuck" and it's now to the point where people nod and pat me on the head. I might as well be saying "my imaginary friend" because - well - no one has ever seen him. First he was living in Iceland and now he lives in Hawaii. As much as I adore this man he comes out sounding pretty damn imaginary too. So I now present the mythological man in my life. True, I managed to keep him to myself on this trip as well, so as far as my friends are concerned I probably paid some random hotty $20 to take a picture with me. But it's true, he's real, he's real. I promise.
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When my sister and I decided to take up roller blading this summer. Since we're both from AZ, neither of us had any experience in this sport. Sidewalks are required. Since we found them on clearance at WalMart it's no surprise that we ended up buying different brands. After we strapped on the knee pads, elbow pads, wrist guards, and helmets we set out on our new toys. It took us five minutes to get down the little hill out of the apartment complex. We made it around the block pretty well but then we had to go down this three block hill to get home. This hill went across a cobblestone driveway. Needless to say. We ate it quite a few times. Ending up in the bushes several times, and that driveway was almost the death of us. I was in front of Katie and was just attempting to cross when a car pulled up. They gave me plenty of room but got such a kick out of watching me eat it they chose to wait the extra five minutes it took Katie to come down the hill. She fell three times before she got to them and then lost it again right in front. We never went down that hill again.
Within the next week we had the basics down. We used the wrist guards to hold onto the brick wall as went down the hill. We were a little wobbly on the straight-aways, but we rarely fell. I hardly fell because it seemed that my rollerblades just didn't roll very well. The wheels were thicker and shorter. But that meant I had to work twice as hard to keep up with her. Until she would fall trying to stop. She was always complaing about how the left one always hurt her foot. I figured she just didn't have them tightened right.
Since she went home I've continued to rollerblade. I rollerblade after the kids on the bike because I suck so bad it's slower and takes more effort than running. I haven't fallen in a while and I don't need all the extra padding any more. However, I did notice that my knees were starting to hurt as my foot started to slip further out. So I tried on my sister's blades. And promptly fell on my ass. Her wheels do roll alot better. The brakes don't work nearly as well. And they hurt like hell. My sister's one tough cookie.
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Death to the tupperware!
My ex-husband still laughs at me in the kitchen. While I can cook really well, I manage to go through dishes for the dumbest reason. One time I actually managed to burn my crock pot. I'm still not sure how I managed to do it but I came home to the door and all the windows open because the landlord had smelled something burning and had rescued the crockpot. It took days to get the burnt crap out of there. And then there was the lid I left on a burner that was on. He still teases me about that as well.
But the last two deaths have not been my fault. A couple of months ago I smelled something burning. I looked over and a lid I had left on the stove was completely melted. But it wasn't on a burner and none of the burners were on. So what was up? I was baking something in the oven and it was so hot that it was actually able to melt the lid on the stove. Last night I did something very similar, but this time the lid wasn't even on the stove, it was on one of the burners. And it melted all over the inside of the top of the stove and then hardened. And now I can't get it off. I'm left with only the bright blue memory of my favorite tupperware container.
And speaking of kids running away!!! I was telling this story to a friend of mine and he said he was probably nine when he stood at the door and told his sister, "I'm running away!" She just looked at him and said, "OK, be back for dinner." Apparently he called his dad half way to Chicago (or some other eastern city) and had to have his dad pick him up off the highway 60 miles down the road. When I was 8 I decided I wanted to go visit my grandma. I don't remember why we couldn't go at the time, but I decided that the excuse was silly. There was a railroad track behind the babysitter's house and a railroad right down the road from grandma's. So while mom was taking a nap I quietly packed up some clothes at $.40 and headed out the door. I stopped at Taco Bell and got a bean burrito and a soda (the girls at the counter thought I was so cute) and walked the 4 miles to the babysitter's. Unfortunately once I got there I realized the track wasn't directly behind the house and you couldn't see it unless the train was running by (I didn't want to go tromping through the wrong person's yard) and so I wandered back and forth up and down the street. And then it started to rain. Finally after walking in the rain for 20 minutes or so one of the neighbors noticed me and took me home. The cops had been called and everyone was excited. But it blew over and life went on. And then! The mail came (while my mom was taking a nap again). Apparently the police department sent out a bill for the service call. It requested that $100 be paid or jail time would be due. And the letter was addressed to me. Well I had already spent my $.40 and my mom was asleep so I went and hid in the cupboard and cried and cried. I needed $100 or I was going to jail. Boy was I in trouble.
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My 7 year old: Mom. We're very sorry, but we're leaving.
Me: OK
he disappears and I hear things like "where are my favorite pants" and "put them in the bag"
Me: You can't take your clothes. You can only take one toy each.
My children: OK
As they head out the door-
My children: Bye! I love you.
Me: OK be back before dark
My children: OK
My 9 year old: Where's the Ralph's?
Me: You can't leave the complex.
My 9 year old: But we're leaving.
Me: Ok, but don't leave the complex.
My children: OK. Bye!
Hmmm. I feel guilty for skipping a day. However, I don't have any cute or funny stories to share. My youngest had a serious case of gas yesterday. We were stuck in the car for an hour and we spent most of it with the windows rolled down. My oldest is developing a sharp sense of humor. He gets it from me, but he's a lot quicker. He must get that from his dad, who's a genius despite being a retard. They are getting so big and grown up.
I'd like to say hello to whoever has been checking my blog at 4:00 in the morning. I think it's Scorpionne from Jamin's website. Thanks for reading:)
