Three Days Down

I have strep. So does my three-year-old. After being quarantined for three days I’ve made some personal discoveries.

Here’s what I know about myself and my immediate surroundings now:

I’m a big baby. I H.A.T.E. to be sick. I still want my mom to bring me soup and check my temperature. She offered to leave some soup at the front door this time. Actually Rachel offered the same thing. But she's pregnant.

Strep throat does not mean you merely feel like you are swallowing shards of splintered glass. It also means your clothes hurt. Your hair hurts. Your nose hairs hurt. Your taste buds hurt. Socks, sheets, carpet, toilet paper, sitting, standing up, moving, typing, seeing, you see where I’m going, all this shit HURTS!!!!!

I am quite possibly close to liver failure due to the Tylenol/Advil four hour alternating schedule I’m on. Which is funny. Cause I was SURE it was the wine that was gonna do me in.

I really miss my job.

I hate Dora.

Max needs to grow a pair.

I love screwing with telemarketers. They are easy prey and they aren’t expecting me.

I wonder what Portia sees in Ellen.

Kisses make everything better.

I am a nosy neighbor.

I can make it to the fifth "MAMA!!!!" before it actually registers.

I have the best friends in the world.

Facebook gets old. I'm the 5,763,894,907th member to think so.

My daughter is smarter than anyone else I know. She is also better at being sick than I am.

I wasn’t thinking ahead when I taught EJ how to use the remote control.

Scrabble Cheezits are fun AND food but there wasn't an "H" in our box. So, my idea to spell THIS SUCKS in Cheezits and then photograph it to use as the image header for this post didn't happen.

I am a master puzzle puttertogetherer. I've memorized a 62-piece Strawberry Shortcake puzzle too.

I should not swear out loud anymore. Really.

I’m sure I’ve made more self-discoveries. But I’m unable to think any longer. It’s enough that I’ve had to type with my eyelashes.

Fo Real

...ya'll this is SHOOT YOUR DRINK OUT OF YOUR NOSE funny.

My long ago and much loved roomie, Kim.

Here Comes Another One!

I love conversation hearts. Not at all for the reason you think either.

I mean Valentine’s Day is sweet, lovey, pink, and flowers and happy and I’m all for that and think it’s great! BUT! February is my birthday month! Yay!

February 18th....so....Valentine’s Day is sort of the kick off for my birthday week. Yes, week. It actually has a name too. AshleyGras (you know, since it falls around MardiGras). I didn't name it... I've just made such a big damn deal about it for so long someone finally thought it deserved a name.

When I start to see those little packages of conversation hearts pop up in sweet pink and red displays around town I get all giggly and excited! Ya’ll, I’m about to be 32 years old and I’m still not over it.

I don't think I ever will get over it either. Not that I should. I think we should all be excited about getting older. God gave us another year to be a part of this wonderful world and we should CELEBRATE it!

Another year for more accomplishments, bust your gut laughs, trips to the park with your kids, one more year to explore your heritage, road trips with friends, knock-down-drag-outs with your siblings, etc. You see where I'm going. It annoys me for people to act sheepish about acknowledging their birthdays. It's your day (week)!!! Slap a smile on your face and don't act like a jackass when someone tells you Happy Birthday!

And ANOTHER thing...call your Mama on your birthday! Don't wait for her to call you. She's the reason you are here.

(Little side note to my Mama: I love you and THANK YOU for being you. I'm your biggest fan and you give me someone to look up to. You make me strive each day to be better than I was the day before because you remind me that I too have a little girl looking up to me. You are the best mom in the world. totally besides me, of course.)

Now, for the love of bathing suit season, someone please take that jar of conversation hearts off my desk.

The Echoes of the Country

Things heard during our recent trip to South Georgia:

"Just say white rabbit and it'll go away"

"Dude, scratch my head."

"Had to bury a cow this morning." "What happened to the cow?" "It died."

"Where's Judd?" "On the four wheeler."
"Where's Chris?" "On the four wheeler."
"Where's the gun?" "On the four wheeler."
"Where's the beer cooler?" "On the four wheeler."
"Where's the four wheeler?" "Don't know."

"That's a nice fahr there." "Yeah, that is a nice fahr." "Probly burn all night."
"Damn. You could cook a fuckin' tater on that fahr."

"I'd have kicked him in his tea bag."

"That's like sayin' your baby is ugly."

"You tell him."

"Hey, Chris! The squirrel fell out of the tree."

"Imona put this log here to prop up this here other log."

"Hey, Bre, smile."

"I made the paper." "For DUI?"

"I think we have a flat tire." "Really?" "No, I just need to smoke."

" 'For you know it he'll be squattin' to pee."

"Did you hear that tire blow? We almost got killed! Dude that was cool."

"No, I'm serial."

Breakthrough

My very own first photo shoot! With real people who are not related to me.

And also who actually WANTED me to bother taking their pictures! (unlike everyone related to me)

I think I did pretty good! Yes?


If you are interested in just how CUTE these kids are... here.