And the girls...

A little variety...

Let's be honest.

I remember being in fifth grade and sitting in a circle with Mrs. Mills and my classmates. Mrs. Mills asked us to go around the circle and say what it was that each of us hated. I remember that on her turn, Mrs. Mills said that she hated being lied to. I remember thinking, Yeah. I hate that, too. I'm a pretty honest person. I mean, aside from the little lie I told in December, I generallly do my best to be honest with people. I mention this because several of you have commented at some point or another that you appreciate my honesty. I really do try to be honest, so I appreciate the compliment very much. But if you really want me to be honest, let me disclose that I edit the things that I write and the pictures I display on my blog just like anybody does. I want to say the things and show the pictures that you will like. That's not to say that the things I write are not true, or the pictures not real--it's just that there is a whole lot more that is also true that you have not seen on my blog. You don't see, for example, the pictures where my hair is not done or I look fat, etc. Heck, just a little earlier I was filming Danin, trying to get her to say 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' on camera, and as I was doing it, I noticed that in the background you could see clothes all over the floor of my bathroom. See, that kind of stuff tends to not make it onto my blog. And a while ago, I had a really cute picture of one of the kids on the toilet, but I decided not to post the picture when I noticed you could see urine on the baseboard. Sick! Forget that picture! I know how we all are--clicking on all of the pictures on everybody's blog to get a closer look at everything. We're all the same. So anyway...credit should be given to those of you who really are honest on your blogs.

The truth is I really don't have anything interesting to share right now, so I'm rambling. Some of your husbands might find the following a bit intersting, though: A couple months ago I agreed to attend a shooting class with Brian. It involved several hours of hand gun information at the beginning and then some actual target shooting at the end. Brian had arranged for me to use a gun that had been loaded with less gun powder--so as not to produce as strong a "kick" as guns normally do. Now, I haven't shot a gun since I was probably 13 or so at girls' camp, mind you, but I put 12 guys (and two girls) to shame that day. And even though I was very slow, I'm not sure Brian has ever been more proud of me (or more turned on) than he was that day. So on Friday night, we went shooting again as part of our date night. We were interested to see how I would do with guns that hadn't been "downloaded" amd the answer was clear: awesome. Here is what my last 34 (of 46) shots looked like.
Who would have known that I had a talent hiding under a bushel all along? Oh, and by the way--I am hereby officially declaring my blog a place to declare the correct lyrics to songs we have mis-sung for too long. Will you share with all of us what lyrics you learned, Rach? (You better believe I didn't know the right ones either.) And Dad, did you ever find the correct lyrics you were looking for? For now, I will start us out: In that True Blue song by Madonna, the real words are not "your love makes me lighten up." They are "your heart fits me like a glove." And you are not allowed to say that you already knew that.

Bittersweet

Welp. Part of my suffering is over. The 6'x10' rug has sold out. And guess what? Even though I would love to have had that rug, I'm still doing alright.

I need support!

So I was rolling along doing fabulously at not spending money--until I got the Ballard Designs catalog in the mail. I swear I get panick attacks when I see something amazing on a really good sale that I cannot take part in. I mean, how am I supposed to stand idly by while Ballard is selling this clock for 160 bucks--less than half of the normal price (and have I mentioned that my favorite decorating color is red? And this sucker is almost 4 feet in diameter!)














And this 6'x9'real wool rug is on sale for $120--an even a smaller fraction of the normal price?

And it gets even worse! Ballarddesigns.com is taking an additional 15% off everything until tomorrow!
SERIOUSLY--I need someone to talk me through this. A gigantic red clock that would look awesome anywhere is lame, right? And who needs a real wool rug that matches all the new greens in my house, anyway? And who am I kidding? Chances are, in a few months, people won't even be using clocks or rugs anymore....Yeah, that's right...
I should have just the right amount of self control to get through this because I did withstand a temptation that I was faced with on Sunday. But I just don't know if I can do it! Please help me!

On a mother load...What? Did someone just say that it is supposed to be on another note? Ahhhhhh! Well then, on another note--guess who's been on time three weeks in a row for church? We're talking IN the building, SITTING DOWN before the clock strikes ten. I know. Pretty amazing.
And Camp is in charge of family night tonight, and earlier today he told me that the lesson is going to be on private parts. Yikes! This should be interesting..
Man, I REALLY NEED that clock and rug...

For all intensive purposes

I've always believed myself to be an adept communicator. I've never had a problem expressing what I'm feeling or explaining myself or getting a point across. Granted, this may be because there is never a shortage of words when I am communicating (I fear I am becoming one of those people whose trap is never shut), but whatever the case, I feel confident in my ability to have others understand me. Unfortunately, the same is often not true when I am trying to understand what is being communicated to me. Although it may have something to do with my hearing, I fear it mostly has to do with my lack of common sense. These misunderstandings fall into two categories: situations when the person talking to me is being sarcastic or trying to imply something and I totally fail to recognize it, and situations when I do not understand or hear correctly the actual words spoken to me. Thankfully, I know there are others of you out there who are as slow to catch on to sarcasm and implications as I am, but do any of you still have a hard time understanding what words are being spoken? (Here I am touting what a good communicator I am and I have this feeling that none of you know what the heck I'm talking about.)
Let me illustrate. Have you guys all played Mad Gab? It's that game where there are silly phrases written on cards and one team at a time has to keep repeating the phrases until they are able to figure out the real phrases being represented. For example, a card might read Way tame hen hit, and the team has to figure out that the phrase being represented is Wait a minute. Understand?
Well for me, it is like I have been playing this game my entire life, except backwards. It's like someone is saying to me "Wait a minute," and I am like "What? What do you mean, 'Way tame hen hit?'" I'm not kidding! It happens ALL THE TIME, and it is so humiliating. Remember that Hands to Heaven song? (Tonight I need your sweet caress, hold me in the darkness...) Well, despite the fact that I had been listening to and singing that song for most of my life, it had never occurred to me that perhaps the lyrics tonight you call my rest lush nest, you believe my sadness didn't make a lick of sense. It wasn't until Brian and I were dating and we were driving back to his house while this song was on the radio and he sang, tonight you calm my restlessness; you relieve my sadness, that I thought, but of course! And then there was the time in college when I was sitting around the kitchen table with my roommates trying to coordinate something, and I said, "Well, we'll just play it by year." And my roommate asked, "Did you just say 'play it by year'?" And I said, "Yeah." And she said, "It's play it by ear!" Are you kidding me? I had spent like twenty years saying 'play it by year' and nobody had ever enlightened me? So anyway, this is the sort of thing that happens to me all the time.
Well the other day, I was reading Brooke's blog and she was saying, "For all intents and purposes..." and I started chuckling to myself thinking, how fabulous that my Florence best friend has the same disorder I have! She doesn't realize that it is supposed to be for all intensive purposes. Hehehe..he......he....he....Wait a minute! Oh, crap, not again! Later on, Brian confirmed what I had feared--it's not for all intensive purposes. Please forgive me for doubting you, Brooke. I should have known better.
Anyway...

I've never posted this fabulous picture taken at Laura's wedding. It's the picture that Sarah put in the center of the quilt she made me for Christmas. I love it!

And here's a few more just for entertainment and history's sake.

Thanks, Mom

Leave it to my mom to know that She Will Be Loved is by Maroon 5 and not Five For Fighting. You know you're a bit out of touch when your mom knows more about current music than you do. I know what you're thinking. "Ummm, Ann--that song came out like five years ago." Well, whatever. Five years ago is about as close as I can keep up.

And just to make this post a little longer, I'll document something Camp said the other day: "Where the hell is the playdoh?"
To which I questioned, "What did you say?"
"I said, 'Where is the playdoh?'
"No. That's not what you said."
"I said, 'Where the hell is the playdoh."
"Camp, I know Daddy says that word, but it's not a good word. It's not a word that we should say."

You always know a family is white trash when their five-year-old swears. Dang it.