Donkey Brains

I'm not really sure if ya'll will believe me on this or not, so I loaded pictures just so you could see for yourself....

Yesterday, I visited with some local ladies for the first time since Grace was born. They gave Grace several presents, one of them being a toy.

While opening it in front of them, I didn't look too hard at it, just noted that it looked like a "Toy Story," toy and said thank you!

Later, I realized just how wrong I was.

Introducing....



Donkey Brains!

Yes, you read that correctly. The name of the toy is donkey brains.

Donkey. Brains.

Okay, I'll let that one digest for awhile and move on.
Here is the toy, up close and personal. You can see why I thought i was a "Toy Story," toy, as the toy manufacturer has illegally used a picture of Woody and Bullseye. Plus "donkey brains," is in the toy story font!

It's really a white "donkey" (aka, horse with big ears,) with Woody on his back. The donkey's legs move and head and tail sway.

And, according to the front, it lights up! I'm not really sure what part lights up, but I'll leave that to your imagination.

Also, according to the front, it is for 3+ players at a time. They must really be big into sharing around these parts for this one toy to be for 3 players.

But wait, it gets better!

Here is the back of the box....

What? You can't read that tiny print? Here, I'll put it here for you to read. Enjoy!

The knowledge of intellect cartoon donkeys.
Improve children's performing ability.
Develop children's intelligence.
Culticate children's interest and confidence.

(All things are spelled exactly like the box.)

Two things of note:
1.) What does that first sentence mean? Ian and I rolled on the floor laughing, reading "the knowledge of intellect cartoon donkeys." Cracks me up! That's probably how I sound when I try to speak Arabic!
2.) Yes, you read that right. Sentence number four does say culticate, with a C, not a V. I'm not really sure what culticate is, but it has something to do with children's interest and confidence.

Also, this handy little plastic toy claims to increase your child's coordination, visual, creative, and logical associative skills.

Quite the claim from Donkey Brains, don't you think?

And you thought this post was going to be about me eating donkey brains, ha!

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Donkey Brains

Pregnancy Brain...

I've been wondering for months when "pregnancy brain," would show up in my life.

I knew this elusive yet comical state of being would bring much entertainment to the Galloway household.

I can, after all, laugh at myself.

Most of the time.

So, yesterday, after pouring myself a glass of milk to go with my lunch, it surprised me, 4 hours later, when Ian started asking where that new gallon of milk was.

I told him, "I finished up the old one, opened the new one, and put it back in the fridge!"

"Nope, definitely not in the fridge!"

And our fridge is tiny, think just bigger than a dorm fridge and you'll get the idea, so there was no way it was hiding behind anything.

10 minutes later, and a comical search throughout the house led us to the cup cabinet, where I had pulled down my milk glass, poured a glass of milk, then promptly put the milk back into the cabinet.

Perfect.

Tell me I'm not alone on this one. Anyone else have a moment of "Pregnancy Brain?" What about just a "Blonde moment," that you'd like to share?

I think we could all use a laugh now and again, right?

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Pregnancy Brain...

Endless Food

On Wednesday, Ian and I were at Union University, doing our grown up, newly voted on for hire (long story,) thing.

Our table was set up in the commons/cafeteria type room however, and we were given 10 passes to go through the line and get food if we so desired.

At first I was skeptical. I had never lived on campus during college, and with the exception of eating with my friend Jason on occasion, I had never set foot into a college dining experience.

And then, I saw it. The girl right in front of our table had returned from line with a plate full of delicious pizza and, get this, a glass of chocolate milk.

I was SOLD.

I practically ran to the line, paid with my ticket, and was delirious as I entered the food serving area. I made a beeline for the pizza (YUM!) and almost fainted at the Blue Bell ice cream buffet line, but passed it on to get my beverage of choice.

I kept asking Ian, "why didn't you tell me it was like this? I would have moved ON campus! You mean I could have gotten All You Can Eat chocolate milk and pizza?" and finally laughed and told me that the dining hall was probably the sole reason for so many girls freshman 15.

I scoffed and said I would have avoided it.

He said most of the girls got chocolate milk and pizza.

.........

Darn it.

Maybe it's a good thing I lived at home for college!

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Endless Food

Strokes

I made a little discovery today.

(that seems to be happening alot lately. Maybe I am in an introspective place.)

But this one is embarrassing and not very enlightening.

Well. It was enlightening to me.

I was walking into the house from my car, after just finishing working out at the gym.

And, as usual, I was having a little conversation with myself. It went something like this:

Self- "I love rowing. It's so much fun! Plus, the rowing machine has the best view of CNN and I can just laugh and laugh and laugh at how racism has really turned the corner in America (ha.ha. Anyone know what I am talking about?)

Plus, I am low to the ground so that creepy old man who stands in the middle of the free weights checking out the women on the elliptical machine can't see me. I love rowing! You can really think while you are doing it and you don't have to concentrate on not...you know....falling on your face!

Hmmm, I wonder why they are always empty. Are they athletically insignificant? I always seem to go away sore and tired. I wonder if it is just an undiscovered exercise wonder.

Eh. Oh well. Different strokes for different folks."

***

And this is when it happened. You see. All my life I have assumed that this phrase was talking about painting. You know. Painting strokes. And I always thought that it just meant some people like to do long fluid painting strokes, others like short quick strokes like pointellism.

For serious.

*****

(back to talking to myself.)

Self: Hmmm. Different Strokes for Different Folks. OH.MY.GOSH! It isn't talking about painting! It's talking about swimming.

Different Strokes! AHHHH! Backstroke, Freestyle, Breastroke, Butterfly....not to mention Medley relays!!!

******

Did I mention that I was a competive swimmer for 7 years?
And that I then taught swimming instruction for a summer at a camp?
And that one of the standard greetings for when you are getting to know a new swimmer is asking them what their stroke is?

I felt really dumb.
And I still do while telling this story.

Am I right though? Is that phrase talking about swimming strokes? I could be SO wrong on this again!

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Strokes

Waterparks for Dummies

I thought I would let you in, on some tools of the trade, about attending a waterpark.

Now, you might be asking yourself, "Why would there be things to learn about attending a waterpark? It's easy, pay to get in, ride the rides, and have fun!"

Alas, my friend, you are sorely mistaken.

Having grown up in the land of the tan and the home of the tourist watchers, aka Central Florida, I have become a semi expert on what you should do, and how you should act in tourist riddled situations.

So here, for your education and enjoyment, are a few "Water Parks for Dummies," guidelines.

1. Arrive early. Yes, you are probably going to said water park on your day off, or on a vacation, so you may be tempted to sleep in, but trust me, the stampede that awaits you if you wait until 10 am, is nearly unbearable. So, get up early, get out of the house early, and arrive early.

2. Arrive Fed. Nothing astonished me more, than when we walked through the gates of the park at 9:15 am and I heard my mother-in-law say "I'm hungry! What can we get to eat?" Believe it or not folks, theme and water parks do no usually specialize in breakfast foods. And the foods that they do carry in the morning, are usually things that you don't want popping out in the form of your distended belly. Please eat before coming.

3. Arrive prepared. Yes, prepared, and no, I am not a boy scout. You should arrive in a bathing suit that will stay in place, no matter what type of water currents come your way. I'm not usually one to say "wear your one piece!" but if there was ever a day to break out your tankini instead of the bikini, now is the day. No one likes to be, or see for that matter, the woman whose outfit was just not enough to keep her covered. And please, for pete's sake, wear shoes into the park. I shudder when I think about that British family who marched through the parking lot, and around the parks, including into the bathrooms, ALL DAY without shoes on. Disgusting. I'm not saying take your shoes on rides with you, but have them in the park at least!

4. Scope it out. No, this is not a reconnaissance mission, but it is imperative that the place you deposit your bag, towels, and sun protection goods be in a prime spot. Look for a spot that is fully covered from the sun and possible rain storms. Do no accept a "partially shaded," spot, because in midday, when the sun is out in full force, you will think "Where the heck is my partial shade?" Also, observe the people around you, in case of a kleptomaniac. No one likes sticky fingers. Also, certain cultures are not the best to sit around, especially if you are wanting some peace and quiet while resting in your full shaded lounge chair. I'm just saying, that's all.

5. Hit the most popular rides first. That's right, I am suggesting you ride the slides that are all the rage, at 10 am in the morning, and not waiting until later in the day. This is because of the fact that the line will get longer and longer throughout the day, and, say, if you do not want to be waiting 60 minutes in the blazing sun around midday for a 32.4 second ride, please follow my directions. You'll thank me for it, I promise.

6. Respect the Space. Personal Space, that is. Remember that no one wants your sweaty, drenched self saddling up against them and pushing forward as if to get closer to the front of the line. It's not going to get you any where people! Back off!

....

Sorry, I get very heated over this topic. In case you are like me, and you always make sure not to plaster yourself onto the people in front of you,, here are a couple of proactive measures to keep Pushy MckPusherson off of you.
- Give dirty looks. This is just the preliminary measure, but for most children, it works/scares them to death.
- Use the elbows. Place hands on hips with elbows protruding outwards, one facing the culprit. This should guarantee you at least 10 inches of personal space, unless you have freakishly short arms.
-Adjust your stance. If the elbows don't work, add in your legs. NO, I don NOT mean to kick them. I mean, as you take a step forward in line, do not bring your feet together, leave your legs in a V-shape with your feet apart. It's not the best choice, because you have to stand semi awkwardly, but with a particularly pushy visitor it might help send the message of "this is my space."
- Use the side rails. Especially with kids who aren't necessarily trying to rub up against you, but who are just so excited they seem to be bumping into you as they try to simultaneously get in front of you, simply extend your arms to both arm rails in the queue. This blocks them from bothering you. I am so dead serious here people.
- Finally, it is my suggestion to prepare for a worse case scenario before you come to a waterpark. Memorize this phrase "Please, do NOT touch me," in at least 5 different foreign languages. I recommend Spanish, Portuguese, French, German, and Chinese. I actually have said it, in English, to a Spanish speaking 12 year old, who insisted on putting her whole arm on top of mine on the hand rail, and though she didn't understand the words, she still got the meaning.

7. Control your offspring. If you can handle this one, no one will be using #6 against you or your children, I promise. But there are some scenarios that need considering. Please do no let your child streak at a waterpark. Please do not let your child scream bloody murder until he gets his ice cream. Please do not let your child dump a bucket of water on an unsuspecting sleeping man. It's just not nice. Also, a personal pet peeve of mine if your child is particularly precocious. Please do not let your child talk about the people in line around them. No one wants to hear what your five your thinks of their butt, or their hair, or their "weird bathing suit."

I have SO many other guidelines for you, but I figure this is enough enlightenment to last a month or so. (Also, if this post is well received, I am saving some points to do Theme Park for Dummies.)

I hope you enjoyed! And although I say all of this with a laugh spirit, I am dead serious, lol!

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Waterparks for Dummies

Oh.My.Gawd!!

I had a minor scarring experience a little bit ago.

And in T@rget, non the less!

I was standing in the candy aisle, contemplating over whether I should buy Mike N Ikes, Watermelon Sour Patch, or Kit Kats, and this kid, at the end of the aisle, picked up his ringing cell phone ...

(ps, never give your 10 year old a cell phone, especially when you are shopping. right. next. to. him.)

Then, at the top of his lungs, this little chubster screams,

"Oh My Gawd! Michael Jackson is Dead!"

THEN he proceeds to throw himself down on the floor prostrate, flail his arms and legs, and yell "No more moon walk, no more moon walk!"

Then, his mom, throws her hands up by her face and proclaims,

"Oh my Gawd!"

And then,

(wait for it, wait for it,)

She cries.

Tears and all.

I was in complete shock. Complete shock people.

And then, from the next aisle, I heard a stock boy start humming "Smooth Criminal."

It was SO surreal.

Also, in case you were wondering, I picked all of the candy, and ran for the cashiers. I just had to get out of there.

Weird things happen to me in stores. Remember THIS?

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Oh.My.Gawd!!

Smack Dab In The Middle of Death

How do I get myself into these situations?

I was driving from the house to the bank and back again, a trip that would take less than five minutes, and the first part had gone smoothly.

As in, I had gotten to the bank safe and sound.

Then, Ian's Dad's weird deposit form worked, so that was a great feat.

And then it happened. Turning out of our bank, left onto a divided road, I pulled into the median waiting spot.

Traffic was pretty thick and heavy, especially in the lane I was trying to turn into, and so I had to wait a minute or two.

Which is alright, I'm not an impatient driver (mostly.)

But THEN, I spotted an opening, and I zoomed my little zoom-zoom out into traffic and began trucking along.

The following is what went through my head immediately after I turned into the (slow) traffic.

"Why is this lane so slow?"

"Why is that car in front of my using his emergency light?"

"Oh! The next several cars in front of me have their flashers on. "

"Weird. Must be some sort of accident."

"But why isn't it effecting the right lane?"

"And why is there 20 cars in front of me going 30 mph with their flashers on?"

"And why does the car behind me have their flashers on?"

"And why is there a hearse at the front of this line?"

......
......
......

"OH MY GOSH!!!! I TURNED INTO THE MIDDLE OF A FUNERAL PROCESSION!!!"

"I can't get over!!! (the panic is setting in) I need to get over!"

(no car in the right was going as slow as molasses like us, so I couldn't get over. And, as the panic settled, I thought....)

"Eh. Oh well. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. (turn on flashers, relax for the 1/2 mile until your neighborhood entrance.)



I am totally serious. I felt pretty horrible about that, but, in my defense, there wasn't a police escort! So how was I supposed to realize it was an active funeral procession and not just a hearse out for a spin?

Come on now.

Also, I would like to note, that I had to look up how to spell hearse. I thought it was hurse or hurst. My bad.

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Smack Dab In The Middle of Death

La Venus De Milo

I thought I would share with you a funny memory that my friend Katie reminded me of recently:

In 2006, I had the chance to travel abroad to England and France for a leadership trip. While in France, naturally, we visited the Louvre.

Now, I must preface this by telling you, that, the day before we left for Europe, I was diagnosed with my second case of strep in three weeks. I was bummed. But, on antibiotics.

They made me a little loopy. In fact, I have very little memory of St. Paul's Cathedral in London because of it.

Talk about "A Foggy Day, in London Town,"

So, after that horrible event, I stopped with the antibiotics. After all, I wanted to SEE Europe.

Then we went to Paris. And I was miserable.

Les MISERABLEs people.

So, I took my antibiotic.

Duh....

And here we go, getting dropped off at the Louvre, having two hours to see the sights.

TWO.

Do you know how impossible that is?

( that's me on the far left, in the Louvre,)

So, we saw the Mona Lisa, and I thought

"Wow, incredibly tiny painting for all the hype."

and

"Wow, I might get very lost if I don't find my group, all because I was staring at the very tiny painting for far too long."

then we ran through roman times,

Up through the medieval ages,

and then we came to THE ROOM.

You know, the room with the Venus de Milo?

Well, I don't really remember the Milo. I kind of do. But just barely.

All because I fell in love with something else.

....

...

The ceiling.

My friend Katie recalls it as me just walking around staring and taking pictures of the ceiling, while all the other people were staring at the famous armless work of art.

(look at it! It's is absolutely gorgeous!!!)

Thank you Penicillen.

(yes... this is my only picture, but I have plenty of the ceiling!)

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La Venus De Milo

Ice, Ice, Baby....

Now, for all of you who live above/withing 200 miles of the Mason Dixon Line, you may not understand this, but trust me, it's the truth.

I am a Florida girl.
It's true.
And it is most apparent in winter, because I just don't know how to cope.

Today, it was 17 degrees when I went to my car. 17!! I could almost double that number and it would STILL be at freezing.

I said ALMOST people. sheesh. I know it's 32 degrees for freezing.

I just really don't know how to deal with cold.

For example, when we were in NC a couple of weeks ago, my friend Courtney and I went for a drive, and by my feet was this contraption. The conversation in my head was as follows:

"Oh what's that?"
"Hmm, it's got a blade!!!"
"Oh, that's good. Courtney has a weapon to defend herself."
"But...a very strange weapon. WHat is it? Not a chinese star, not brass knuckles."
"maybe it's NOT a weapon. Then...um... what is it?"

After about 20 minutes in the car, it dawned on me that it was an ice scraper.
They have tools to scrape away ice.
So weird.

I just take a bottle of water and pour it over my windshield.
Then again, that doesn't really work when it's below freezing, as I found out this past week. Because then the water freezes in a thick sheet on your windshield.

Are you as astonished as I was? Because seriously. I was SHOCKED. Water freezing right before my very eyes.

Today, I wouldn't let my kids go to the library, because it was still in the 20's. On the board, I wrote "No library. Too cold."

They thought that was a crock.
They didn't think it was a crock when they stepped outside for lunch without their jackets.
They ran back in and got their jackets. And hats. And gloves. And scarves. And one kid had a blanket around him.

Plus. 6 of my kids are absent today due to the cold.
They should have just cancelled school.

*Sigh*

I think I might die whenever I move "north."

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Ice, Ice, Baby....

Oh, Gregory

I was thinking today, as my kids were all working on their writing assignment (what would YOU do if you ran away, by the way?) about an incident that happened while at my senior internship, and I about died from laughter, thinking about it. Of course, then the kids, who already think I'm crazy, were really concerned. Here it is:

I was working in a fifth grade classroom and had *taken over* for the semester as teacher. I had walked the kids down to PE, on a cold, rainy day, and had left, not thinking anything about it. When I picked them up, 45 minutes later, we marched, single file, up the stairs, and into the classroom. We started our reading lesson, and about 20 minutes in, I realized one of my students was missing.

Now, you have to know something about this kid. First of all, He was GIANT. He had about 4-5 inches on me! Secondly, along with his height, he had a ginormous head. He was also a klutz. And a mess. And was just generally a "spaced out," child. And, like most teachers know, weird behaviors in the child are usually explained by the behaviors of the parents. His mom, was a cymbol wearing, grass juice drinking, belly dancing for a living, kind of mom.

It so totally explains it.

Right. So, missing student. I asked the class where he was and several of them told me he had fallen in the mud and went to the clinic to call his mom for new clothes.

An hour passes, no student comes back.

I call up to the front office and they tell me that the clinic has been closed all day (apparently nurses get sick too,) and that they haven't seen him at all.

The teacher who is in charge, takes over, and he calls down to PE, and they haven't seen him. Then he calls the office and gets them in on the search party. They make several announcements over the loud speaker, but still, no sign.

Finally, they pull out the big guns, they call the police. Soon we have police searching our little suburban school campus, and police dogs coming into our room to get a scent sample from his backpack.

About an hour before the end of the day they FINALLY find him.

He is in the PE bathroom. He is wet and muddy. He is crying. And he is completely clotheless!!!

Apparently, after going to the clinic and finding it closed, he decided to remedy that problem by washing his jeans in the sink. So he gets undressed, washes them, and then, because we all know what happens to wet jeans, he can't get them back on. Somehow or another his shirt gets soaked so he takes that off TOO! And he just sits there. All day. And students from the afternooon PE (kindergarteners and first graders,) come in all day and whisper about "naked boy," but NO ONE thinks to tell a teacher about a non dressed student in the boys bathroom.

So, he was slightly embarressed the next day, but all I have to say is, he's lucky that didn't make the news!!!!

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Oh, Gregory

I Can Betcha..

That, on Christmas Day, I never expected to :

-Watch the move "The Coneheads." Ever, or for the first time ever. Nope, never could have guessed that one.

-Play a "fighting," video game, with my mom, sister, Ian, and myself. Nope, never could have forseen that little adventure. Lots of shrieking and yells of "Iaaaaaan! Stop it!" ( he really was much better than us. )

- Hear my 24 year old sister say the following in a conversation:

Mom: Heather, can you say the blessing
Heather: My whole life is a blessing, so really.
Mom: ..... (blank stares and then laughter ensued,) ( I prayed, haha, )

I can't wait to hear all about ya'lls Christmases. More to come in the next couple of days.

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I Can Betcha..

Twilight...

It's been over a month now, but I thought I would fill you in on how I was forced, (well, kind of,) to "read," the book Twilight.

*spoilers ahead*

It's all the rage, you know? That obnoxiously cook book that all the teenage girls were reading and then some college girls, and then some not so college age girls were reading. And then those boys began reading it. You know the type. Different boys. And I know. I worked at a bookstore remember? I sold it to those people in waves, and in THAT particular order.

Anyways. I swore that I wasn't going to read it. I practically took an oath that I, Brittney Michelle Galloway, would, under NO circumstances, read the book Twilight, because it seemed so utterly ridiculous.

Then, we got in the car for girls weekend and Katie and Rachel pulled out matching copies. MATCHING copies!!!!!

I was doomed for sure.

They read to themselves in the book seat, but it wasn't any ordinary reading. There were lots of *gasp!* and *oh my gosh!* and *kiss her kiss her kiss her!* and the other Katie and I were just navigating away, trying to make our way to the Georgia mountains.

Then, the Katie with the book, got overwhelmed with excitement/car sickness and couldn't read to her self anymore, so Rachel debriefed us drivers, then began reading out loud.

What a girly book. It was like, MADE for a sleepover.

Every two or three minutes, one of us would be shrieking, calling out "What?!?" or "Read more!!!!" or, when there was a particularly fulfilling part, there were girlish giggles and anticipatory clapping.

We're talking straight out of the "Sisterhood" books. THat girly.

We read it in the car.

We read it in the cabin.

We read it in bed.

We read it in the parking lot.

And by "we," of course I mean, Rachel read it ALL outloud to us.

And then, on our drive home, going 70 down the interstate (I swear that's the speed limit,) we reached the climax where Bella is thrown against a wall, and she's JUST ABOUT TO DIE, when in comes the hero!

......

There were actual screams.

And flailing of arms.

And somehow my car got put into neutral.

......

But somehow, Bella survived.

And so did we.

It was very exciting.

I am not sure if I will ever read the rest of the books. I liked the first one, but I really think that's because the presentation of the story was so darn cool.

Rachel did voices and everything.

It was amazing.

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Twilight...

You better Sit your bottom down....

because this could be a long post!

Or, that could be my favorite new catch phrase.

That, and "What? I am SURE no one is talking to me or asking me questions while I am in line! No way is anyone doing that!" which is repeated about 2 dozen times a day.

That's right, I am officially a teacher.

I know alot of people wanted to read my first day account of what happened, but, honestly, I can't remember much. I remember that the kids were shocked to see their room rearranged and dust free (shocker!) and that there was alot of "but that's not how Mrs. xxxx does it!" but other than that, nope. Not much of a memory.

The past four days have been quite an adventure. I have had to follow through with plans that were left for me and integrate my own into the curriculum. I have had to establish rules and routines that the kids need to follow. Sure, there have been alot of tears (by the kids, not me. Wait, I don't know if that's better or worse), but, only four days in, and my kids were nearly angels today. They seem to have really grasped onto how I am running things.

I will tell you, my biggest concern is homework. These kids, they just don't do it! AND their parents send in lame excuses for why their child didn't do homework. Since when is saying "My child did not do their homework because I had to take his sister to cheerleading practice," an acceptable excuse!?! Or, my favorite "My child does not have his homework because I threw it away." What? Really? You threw your kids homework away. hmmm. Sounds like johnny didn't do his homework, you forgot to ask, and by the time you realized, you were driving johnny to school. So lame.

I don't even give that much homework either. It's usually about 15 minutes of spelling practice a night. That's it. All I have to say is, when they fail their spelling test tomorrow, I WILL be sending a note home saying "Gee. Looks like your laziness has paid off."

Or, maybe not.

Maybe something more politically correct like "Johnny has failed his spelling test, please sign and return acknowledging that you have reviewed the test, and his study habits with him. Also, according to my records, Johnny did 1 out of his 4 assigned homeworks. Perhaps this explains the low test score. Please encourage Johnny to complete his homework nightly."

Yeah, that sounds better.

Anyways.

I have so much more to tell you, but, since I am trying to reach my 100 posts goal, I will save those for later.

Pictures to come tomorrow!

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You better Sit your bottom down....

The Blind are Driving?!?

Today, as I was driving home from work, I was behind a giant white SUV. And, as alot of cars now have, this one had sticker writing on the back. At first, I thought it was an advertisement. Then... I read it:

Warning: Blind Driver

That's right. It says warning, first of all, which is never a good sign. AND the driver is blind. BLIND. As in, they can not see.

I quickly put on my blinker to get around this crazy car.

I thought to myself? Who puts a blind person in the driver seat? Do they have special technology? Maybe I can see what this person looks like. Oooo no. I probably shouldn't stare. But, why not, not like they can see me. HEY. Why is the driver LOOKing at me. He's supposed to be blind. Hmm. I better slow down and get out of his line of vision. Or non vision. Or whatever.

Now, I am behind the SUV again. I read the sign again:

Warning: Blind Driver
American Blind Company

aW that's nice, a company for the blind.

Wait.

Oh. no.

Blinds. American Blinds company. This person is an installer or salesman of window blinds.

Oh Sheesh.

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The Blind are Driving?!?

The STINK...

Beware mothers of small children, hide all naive noses. "Gird your loins"

There is a stink in the Galloway house, and has been for about 2-3 weeks now. I didn't notice it until this past weekend, and then I realized everything smelled like mildow, the carpet, clothes, air, etc. Since then I have set out to avenge my household's air and fabric's from the offending stink.

Changed the air filter, washed almost all of our clothes, vaccuumed, dusted, windexed, and burned an excessive amount of glade candles and I think I have just about knocked it out.

Just call me SuperBrittney, avenger of odious odors.

Think I need a cape?

I do.

A good smelling cape.

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The STINK...

Remember Norway?

Do you remember our Norweigan friend, Svein? Hop back to posts in mid to late July to read about when he just popped in for a little visit. He was a very amusing house guest, that's for sure.

About two weeks ago I heard that he was leaving friends in southern Illinois on bike. Not a motorcycle. A ten speed. A USED ten speed. And guess what he was planning to do.

Bike the Mississippi River. Just for kicks and giggles.

Oh. my. word.

Well, I just got word that our friend left Memphis...on his bike... for New Orleans late last week. RIGHT BEFORE Gustav! Please, use your imagination, of our blonde haired blue eyed friend riding his 10 speed down the Mississippi towards the hurricane. Of course, he isn't staying in hotels or anything so he has absolutely no idea what is going on. He probably is having a great time, pedaling away, using his new found "people watching," skills at the thousand of cars heading the opposite direction as him.

Poor soul.

Next on our list is to get a hold of him and let him know that northern Mexico is not the place for him to ride his bike. Drug wars and kidnapping running rampant as they are. *Sigh* He'd probably jsut think it was all part of the American experience.

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Remember Norway?

Lesson Learned:

When you are young and newly married, lay out clear laundry rules.

Here's Why:

I come home from work late Sunday night only to find a clean apartment. Hmmm I think to myself. I greet my husband than head to the kitchen for a late night dinner of Fruit Loops (because who choses the healthier almond cluster flakes?)

While in the kitchen, I ask my husband what he did all night. He replies "bought my text books, cleaned up the kitchen, had dinner, called john, did the laundry..." and continued on. However, I stopped listening and put down my bowl of fruity goodness and threw open the laundry room door.

Oh. My. Word.

Nothing, not ONE item was hanging up to dry. I check the washing machine. Nothing.

I check the dryer to confirm my suspicions that my well meaning husband dried ALL of our clothes (including my dresses and his work shirts,)

But. NOTHING!

"Honey, where are the clothes?!"
"I folded them and put them away." he says from two rooms over.
"Oh, no."
"What?" he asks
"um. well. um." actually about to pull my hair out over dispair for my LOFT dresses and his JCrew shirts.

Suddenly he is at my side.

"Why are you in the laundry room?" He asks
"I, um, was just coming to see how you did the laundry."
A look of sheer terror comes over his face. Silence until he says
"Please, tell me. The baskets of laundry were already clean right? RIGHT?"

I am very confused at this point and I follow him as he marches into our bedroom, only to disolve into a fit of giggles as my bewildered albeit very cute husband watches in astonishment.

He had folded all of the dirty laundry. And put it away.

Hahahaha.

Don't worry, for all of you about to pass on marriage advice in form of comments, we got it under control.

Our new rule is that dirty clothes are kept in one place and clean in another.

I am still puzzled over this though. I asked Ian if he thought the clothes smelled or felt clean. He said no. I asked why he still folded them. He said he didn't know. LOL. Men.

At least I got a good one who actually doesn't mind folding laundry.

So I washed the clothes for him, and today, he folded CLEAN laundry.

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Lesson Learned:

Note to self:

Although the appeal of "free hot drink days" for employees sounds wonderful, it is probably not a good idea to serve us all espresso's at the same time. Talk about caffeine rush.

It is very strange to be told NOT to dance to the hokey pokey during children's story hour due to workman comp rules.

Also, not a good idea to feed your kids ice cream in a bookstore. Just for future reference.

It's been a weird morning.

And it just kept getting stranger and stranger. I walked outside of the store for my lunch break and there was a FIRE. Real life FIRE. A 6-8 ft tall electrical box was flaming! I just stood there and gaped until I noticed the firemen. They too were just standing there gaping.

Apparently I looked like a safety hazard and they ushered me to my car. Don't worry about the rolling shelves of books right there though. No, those couldn't catch on fire at all!

I wonder why they were just watching it. Seems like an unorthadox practice for people whose job it is to put out a fire.

Then, I drove three blocks down (our apartment is about 6 blocks away from my work,) and I saw a SWAT team swarm a car! Police running, lights flashing, guns and vests out. Honest to goodness. And it was in the Whataburger parking lot!

What is going on with this town?

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Note to self:

A first

Sweet heavenly nectar....

I got to read People magazine yesterday.
Ummm.
While I was at work.
But, still! It was so wonderful!

Also, a women asked to touch my hair.
Pretty weird.
Especially with having to lean way far over the counter so she could touch it.

Also.
She called it mermaid hair.
I'm not really sure how I feel about that.

Also.
My boss saw the whole thing.
He asked if I often get asked to touch my hair.

My response.
"Nope, that was a first."

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A first

A Few Things I Have Learned Lately:

Sorry I have been gone so long. I spent my weekend in Ocala leading a bunch of 9th grade girls in a disciple now weekend. So here is a list of things I have learned over the last week or two:

Ninth Grade girls. They can really put down their junk food.

Sleep, is essential. Even when you are running on a million cups of coffee and an entire bag of starbursts.

Little girls DO steal, in case you didn't know, and I had to "catch one," stealing a pullout from a magazine.... A WebKinz poster. Poor kid. Fortunately it was her father who caught and reprimanded her, but she had to turn it in to me.

My husband likes to put red chili flakes on everything, and today, he put them in his vegetable soup. Weird.

The neighbors near us (above, below, or beside, I can't tell from where,) have an unhealthy obsession of Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On. That would explain why I keep having strange tragic boat dreams. I really wish they would stop.

It IS strange to meet the person who got the job you were interviewing for. I met her yesterday at work and found out she has been teaching for 20+ years, and the job at Norton was the ONLY interview she got. I'm screwed.

It's very possible that my two supervisors are having an... um... "fling," together. One of them will be on duty and the other will just show up, for the heck of it, then they will disappear into the office for a while. Also weird.

Just because a tropical storm is projected to come your way, doesn't mean it will. Think of it like a two year old boy. You never know what's going to happen.

People start to be very generous to you when they find out you're poor and broke. Eulie almost bought us a trashcan. But then he didn't. And now I am still without a trash can. But we are very close!

Quilts are interesting to make. Because. You see. The sewing isn't so bad, it's the figuring out what "quilting," actually means. I kind of forgot about that part.

And finally, it is very easy to get behind in things. Like blogging. Emailing. Phone calls. and book club reading. I'm working on it. Hopefully I will be all caught up soon.

Below are some of the pictures of my quilt making process, though I haven't taken any since I actually began sewing them all together, that's to come later.

Also, Ian and I leave to go see his grandfather and step grandmother (Pop and Sylvia,) tomorrow, in Helen, GA. We'll probably only be there for 2 days, and we'll definately be home by Friday night. Pictures and stories to come.

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A Few Things I Have Learned Lately: