Coffee, Crumb Cake and Grapes

A girlfriend of mine who I don't see very often but adore just the same came for a visit today with her little one. She is extremely down to Earth and good natured, so I always come away from each visit completely content.

The minute she stepped out of her mini-van (yes, even my college friends are now driving these contraptions) I smiled at this beautiful woman sporting a toddler on her hip and a very pregnant belly to boot. I laugh as I sit here at my computer and think back to the days of hair dying and (dare I say it?) Captain Coke's. Tuesday nights once filled with Father of the Bride, pedicures & Decoy's are now taken over by casseroles, bathtimes and "Now I Lay Me's...". We laughed at our half finished sentences (you all know what I'm talking about) and the hormonal imbalances of squealing toddlers.

It was over coffee and crumb cake that I confirmed the appreciation I have for my girlfriends, both new and old. As my mom says, one is silver and the other is gold.

My Elly-Belly ("The Toothless Wonder") 

My Noah Bear 

A Debate of My Own

Here is a good idea of the debates I encounter on a daily basis...

Elliott: Mom! I can’t find my spy watch!
Mom: Sorry kiddo, haven’t seen it.
Elliott: I think it was in the pocket of my shorts!
Mom: (gulp) “Then it’s in the wash… right now…”
Elliott: (eyes wide as saucers, inaudible mutters and groans)

Yes, he was right. There in the laundry room I fished out the sacred (and now, inoperable) spy-watch. Elliott was bummed and I was a defensive form of concerned. I bit my tongue each and every time I felt the urge to say “See what happens when you leave your clothes on the floor!” (which was a lot on this particular evening.) Then enters Andy…

Andy: What’s going on?
Elliott: (sniff sniff)
Mom: The spy watch went through the wash and now, well… (hands it over)
Andy: (thoughtful pause) This is a perfect example of YOU NOT CHECKING POCKETS before doing laundry. Felecia, you really need to make a better effort about doing that.
Mom: (&#$@!)

I won’t bore you with the frenzy of activity that followed. I am simply setting up a forum whereby I can acquire from you: WHOSE JOB IS IT TO CHECK POCKETS? Is it the job of the clothing owner (e.g., Andy's and/or Elliott's) or is it the job of the Laundry Wench (e.g., me)?

The final blow?

What's the deal behind the idea that "bad luck comes in 3's?" Was it a theory that proved itself since the dawn of time and we are simply sharing a true wisdom? Like one day, Confucius was contemplating life atop a mountain, slipped on his silk robe, fell upon his meditative @ss and realized "That's the THIRD time this week!" Or perhaps we're all victims of yet another catch phrase when one day a guy threw it out there in order to fill the uncomfortable void in conversation to a down-and-out buddy? (It was probably the same Vanilla Ice loving idiot who began chanting "NOT!" after his own outlandish remarks...)

Elliott's 2 week stint of being grounded from his bike was finally over last weekend (we realized it was also a punishment to mom and dad...) Sunday evening was a hot one so after dinner, we hopped on our bikes and enjoyed what little breeze was coming off of the lake. We ran into some neighbors, we enjoyed the exercise and most of all we enjoyed each other’s company. After about an hour, we pedaled ourselves home and packed it up for the night. Ahhhhh... Little did we know that some droopy-pants wearing pimple-faced punk (I'm just guessing here) found his way into our garage to steal MY bike! Not one of Andy's supped up bikes (yes, he has 2), but my nice but simple bike that I received as a gift for my high school graduation. I loved that bike. Sniff sniff...

Now of course Elliott, who is more concerned about the world around him than any other 6-year-old I've met, has been seriously stressed out about this invasion. While Andy replaced the garage's service door the other night, Elliott set numerous traps around the perimeter of our yard. Not only do we have sticks barricading walkways, but he found the hot pink sidewalk chalk and wrote "KEEP OUT!" all over the place (nice to see his spelling skills are coming along...) He punctuated this bizarre yet understandable behavior by taking my "Welcome" sign down off of the garage and exclaimed "They are NOT welcome here!" Oye.

We are continuing to deal with Grandpa Wiberg's passing and the effect it's had on our family members. We're waiting for things to calm down so that we can find a way to help out with Grandma Wiberg and/or the aunts and uncles who are mourning. And of course, we're contemplating our own lives as we remember how quickly a journey can be ended. ((As a side note; there doesn't seem to be any rules or guidelines associated with this theory of "3's", so when I first felt guilty about grouping the loss of a human life to the other seemingly miniscule items, I rationalized as much.))

And finally...last night as we dealt with the heat and our extremely wild children, a moment of silence revealed that a strange crackling noise was coming from our den. We followed it and found that one of the panes on our sliding glass door was morphing from one piece of glass to millions of small cracks. Andy swears he head this noise at least an hour or two earlier so as far as we can guess, something hit the door during the coarse of the day and caused it to begin this expensive yet fascinating process. (I swear I can hear an occassional "Cha-Ching" in the midst of the crackling noise...)

So there ya have it; our three things. For whatever reason, life would like me to be sitting on my non-exercised butt, clipping coupons and contemplating life.

Thanks for listening.

This is Always How I'll Remember Grandpa Wiberg 

Rest in Peace

Grandpa Wiberg was called home early this morning in his sleep. He had just gotten back home after spending some more time in the hospital over the holiday weekend. He and Grandma Jan were expecting an evening visit from a hospice care consultant when he chose instead to quietly slip into his awaiting daughter's embrace to watch the sunrise together.

Elliott thinks they're enjoying chocolate together.

A Great Book

A girlfriend of mine who is studying psychology (unlike Tom Cruise) suggested I take a 60-question test in a book that I'm borrowing from her entitled "Your Personality, Your Health" (by Carol Ritberger).

Based on your answers, the book suggests that your personality can be narrowed down to one, sometimes two, distinct colors. (I am a green, with orange close on my heels.) Anyway, Upon reading this book, your color will then provide you with information related to your social interactions, your habits and even your health.

Here is a quick blurb that I pulled from the author's website about this particular book:

"Your Personality, Your Health explores this premise in depth and presents a compelling case for just such a connection. This book is unique in its subject matter and the manner in which it connects the human energy system with predictable behavioral characteristics dictated by our personalities. It offers a variety of perspectives to enable you to better understand yourself, why you become ill, and where in your physical body you are most susceptible to creating illness. As the reader you will be encouraged in your efforts to change the thoughts, emotions, and habits that may be holding you back; to accept yourself for who you are; to embrace the innate creativity and wisdom you hold inside; and to learn how to love the uniqueness you bring to this world."

Let me know if you end up getting the book and/or taking the quiz. (That includes you quiet viewers too!) As I read, I can't help but guess what some of my friends might be and would love to see how close I am.