When the Cats Away...

Cat=Mommy
Mice=2 little boys left to their own devices


Maybe Bart should not go to the bathroom when I have a meeting to attend on a weekend.

A Little Bit of Home, Found Right At My Front Door

Bart has really been missing home (Louisiana), particularly a pastry known as the KING CAKE. It is almost Mardi Gras and because of living in NE, there are no king cakes (except maybe at a grocery store in Lincoln I was told), no monster parades, no cheap beads to be fought over and worn with pride, and no cups thrown at parades to come home and be coveted over.
I tried making a king cake, but it was not the same. In a conversation I had with Bart's Aunt Linda, she gave me a recipe to use for the cream cheese filling, which improved the cake, but it was still not a true KING CAKE.
Well, imagine my surprise when I come home this morning and find this box at my front door.

Bart's cousin, Bonnie, had been talking with her mom about us and how Bart was missing home and king cakes and all that. Bonnie (maybe her mom paid some too, I don't know, so thanks to one and all) bought us a delicious KING CAKE from one of the "we'll ship it anywhere places" and had it sent to us. I can't wait to try a piece tonight when Bart gets home. (Okay, let's be honest, I tore into that bad boy and ate a rather substantial piece already. There is still plenty for Bart to enjoy and the boys to try)

I love the warning that accompanies the cakes.

Thanks so much guys...We're no Krewe of Runny Noses, but we sure do love our family and our holidays. We appreciate your thoughtfulness and hope to see you all real soon (like in July).

I Might Even Be A Rockstar!

I have this dream where I learn to play acoustic guitar and then I rock out like Jack Johnson, Dave Matthews, and the dude from Nickel Creek (the mandolin player, Chris Thile, not the guitar player, so I guess I'll have to learn to play the mandolin , too) to name a few.
Now, here is the thing. I CANNOT SING.
I sound like a dying dog.
BUT...
In my fantasy's, I ROCK.
I know this will cause trouble because I will spend all the time learning to play (my dad even bought me a great self teaching book last summer) and then go to ROCK OUT...

and dogs will howl...

and babies will cry...

and I will be so disappointed and doing the OPPOSITE of finding joy in my journey here on earth...I will find fault, take my guitar, smash it up, and go to bed until I forgot about the entire horrible event.

He's Just Not That Into You Widget

Three Truths and a Lie...REVEALED

So, the poll is closed (not really, I can't figure out how to do that but thought it sounded fancy.) and the results are in.
76% voted on #3 as the lie.
15% as #4
6% as #2
3% as #1

And....the correct answer is...


#3!

Yep, Brennan was never entered into a cutest baby contest, but if he were, I bet he would have won...he was an adorable baby (except during the 'fat face' stage) I did actually win an all expense paid trip to Hollywood, CA, when I was 16 as part of a "Sweet Valley High" T.V. contest. All I had to do was send in a postcard! I won a 3 day trip for 4, VIP passes to Universal Studios, a $2000 shopping spree (accompanied by Brittney and Cynthia Daniels, the stars of SVH), attended some big deal thing at Planet Hollywood Beverly Hills where the girls presented stuff and we got our pictures taken a ton, and I was on EXTRA and had a two page article in Sixteen or Seventeen magazine (can't remember which).

About the truths:

#1: Sherman the Tank. He was an old hoopty that my mom bought one day on her way home from the grocery store out of someone's yard for $250. (be forewarned that the definition is not the cleanest of all definitions, but so true and so funny.) I don't remember what make or model the car was, just that it was BIG, OLD, and BLUE. I called it Sherman because it was built like a tank and just as loud.
I don't recall it having heat, because I remember one trip we made to Alexandria in it where my brothers and I huddled in the back seat under blankets. The windshield wipers worked, but only when you touched two wires together and twisted just right. This would sometimes happen as you drove along, and it was always embarrassing if someone else were in the car with you. Now, I never took anyone in the car (my friends gave me a ride b/c really my dad drove the car more them me) except the sister missionaries, and we all had great laughs at the car's expense.
The best part about Sherman was the battery. For some reason the battery would not hold its charge, so if you were leaving Sherman for very long (like more then 45 minutes), you had to pop the hood and UNHOOK the battery cables to prevent it from dying. Every night my dad would remove the battery and plug it into a motorcycle battery charger on the front porch, thus causing us to refer to the car being on "life support" because without this modern day miracle, the car would not start.
The seats were a luscious velor and they were actually in very good condition...so comfortable. Looking back, those seats were actually a fire hazard and we didn't know it.
Speaking of fire and Sherman (yes, they go in the same sentence), after my Seniors Honors Banquet held in Natchez, MS, my dad and I went to Wal-Mart and my mom went home. We must of had a list of items b/c my dad decides he needs to unplug the battery. Apparently, as he unplugged it, a spark hit some of the oil hanging out in it (it needed "transfusions" quite often) and caused a small fire. I took off running into Super Wal-Mart, in my tight red Japanese inspired skirt with a slit that grew a few inches, yelling, "My car is on fire! We need some water!" Well, a buggy boy heard and grabbed a water cooler or I don't know what...because smart me (remember, we left an honors banquet?) runs to the bottle water, grabs three jugs, and runs out, yelling, "I'll come back and pay!"
True story.
The second time it caught on fire killed poor old Sherman, and I believe my parents got double or triple what they paid for it when they filed a claim with the insurance company.
I swear, I laugh every time I think of Sherman.
Here is a video by Sir Mixalot about a Hoopty that I thought I'd share. I thought he was cursing, but upon looking up the words, discovered he's saying SUCKER a lot. Enjoy, take a break from laughing, go change your slightly peed in underwear, then come back to hear the rest of my true confessions...though sadly, they aren't really funny, just true.

# 2: Cross Country trip...that one is pretty self explanatory. In my defense, the trip was planned way before Bart and I started dating (speed dating?) and it was supposed to just be me and Roger, a friend from high school who wanted to go to Colorado to see his big brother and Utah to see his girlfriend (?) Well, I wanted to go so we planned it out. The day before we were to leave, a new friend of Roger's, Sammy, got a brand new truck (with a back seat) and wanted to go on an adventure so he came along. We had a ton of fun but I learned I do not like snow boarding.

#4: Gertrude. Well, in case you can't tell from reading the blog, I have a weird sense of humor at times. For some reason, one day I declared that one of my legs was not real, but wooden, and named Gertrude. To this day I do not know why I did that...I have a phobia of cut-off body parts, so it really is out of the blue. Anyways, I'd walk around at recess (yes, at my high school we had fifteen minute recess in the morning) or lunch swinging my leg to the side. It was bizarre, to say the least. I could not find my year book or I'd share that picture of me and "Gertrude", me with my too long blonde hair, her hiding shyly under my jeans.
In my defense, I lived in a small town and it took a lot to keep the masses entertained.

Now you know. Did you get it right? Do you think I am Captain Crazy now (mostly just b/c of #4) or Colossally Cool for having such a RAD car and cool body props?
Either way, come back tomorrow and see what craziness I throw your way.
Oh, and leave me a comment, I'm feeling lonely today.