14 aug 2018

Ryan had a business trip so we went to KC for the week.
img_0003

They listen to audio books in the car and one of our favorites is Winnie the Pooh (Judi Dench, Stephen Fry, & Geoffrey Palmer!!). I don’t remember ever getting into it as a kid, but these stories with the fun voices has me hooked now. And it’s a million times better than hearing If You’re Happy and You Know It over and over.

Anyway, the new movie about Winnie, Christopher Robin, is very sweet. I cried within the first 15 minutes and Ruthie said she cried during it too.

img_0001

img_0232

We’d been trying for years to catch this darn train. Finally did and Gertie was not a fan. The rest of us were though and we went around 8 times!
img_0008

img_0011

While Gertie and I took a break, one of the adorable volunteer workers came over and talked about how she’d raised a disabled son. She then cussed about the weather and thrust a bottle of water in my hand. It was a meeting between me and my future self.

The rest of the time was spent shoe shopping, playing with cousins, and binge watching shows, none of which I took pics. I need to be more aggressive with the camera again.
img_0020

img_0226

The day after Ryan flew back to KC, we drove from there to Oklahoma City and visited our friends that’d moved from NWA. Ruthie dove off the diving board and Gertie, I’m not exaggerating, kicked her feet and arms until she swam by herself. It was maybe for 6-12 inches, but still. She loves the water so much.
img_0237
We pretty much didn’t stop talking for 48 hours. 30 of those were me going on and on about her garden area and backyard (there’s not many who will gladly talk compost and chicken poop with me), 16 about the meals and ginger drinkie poos, and the remaining 2 hours me thinking I’m funny because of those ginger drinks.

At one point Annie had to go pee so Mandy told her to just pop a squat in the yard (another reason we’re friends!) right by the fence. Annie, in her own special way, decided to go inĀ the middle of the front yard right as a car drove by.
img_0243

I hardly saw these three girls the whole time. It was nonstop mermaids and dolls and dress up clothes.

img_5154

On our way home.

We drove through Siloam Springs and decided to show Ruthie where she was born. We made a big ole deal about the home there, in the countryside, on a dirt road, surrounded by cows. We laughed so hard thinking of what she was picturing. So we slowed down and showed her her birthplace.
img_0244
And for proof that she is indeed my daughter, she didn’t care at all about what it looked like. She gasped and squealed and said she loved it.
img_0246
I love enthusiastic people, Ruthie. Thank you.img_0250

img_0256
A fun full week. We tired though.

Whodun the Doodee

In the spirit of Halloween and sophmoric behavior, I present: The Case of the Exorbitant Excrement.

After the Thriller competition, the four of us walked into TR’s house and I headed straight to the bathroom. I noticed that the toilet lid was politely closed. For a house majority of boys, I thought Wow that’s so nice. And then I lifted the lid.
Good god almighty! Who did that??

Are they hurt?

And why didn’t they flush?? Wait, it’s NOT flushing!!!

So I marched out to the living room intending to yell at people for giving me gag reflexes.

Halfway down the hallway, someone pulled me to the side and whispered loudly that it was left there for TR to find.

The hooplah caused the rest of the house to sit down and review the facts of the night in order to catch the culprit. TR ruled out the girls since, according to him, we wouldn’t know how to turn off the toilet valve. He then proceeded to pick apart each male with reasons why they would or wouldn’t be the guilty party. For 30 minutes this went on. Sharing different hypotheses, with one important question sprinkled several times throughout the investigation: “Why wasn’t there any toilet paper in the toilet?”

Until finally, a decision was made based purely on gut feelings. TH had dunit. TR just knew he had and wouldn’t hear of any other possibility.

We parted ways that weekend with TH still thrown into the figurative prison.

And then today. We received what might be the most important piece of evidence for the case. A drawing depicting the whereabouts of TH when the crime was committed. An alibi, if you will.

There’s a pooper-non-flusher on the loose, people. Watch your commodes.

From Dirndl to Zombie…

in less than 6 hours. Ah, I love days like these. Although, if I’m completely honest with myself, that’s pretty much how every day ends up: pale faced and half dead.
We piled onto the bus that would take us to the much touted “second largest oktoberfest in the nation”. Hmmm… Not sure about that one. But it did have the second largest number of people chewing tobacco and wearing beer slogan t-shirts.

Can I describe how nice the day was? R and I had just come off of almost two straight weeks of rain and to walk outside into that sunshine? Divine. It was like heaven opened up to my cute dirndl dress and said, “Go on, my little bavarian child and bask in the fruits (or hops?) of the german microbreweries.”
Okay. I will, I said.

But our first stop was food: brauts, potato cakes, and onion blossoms. Life was good… my cinched waist was not.

We wandered aorund the grounds, until our exhausted feet found some tables in the open air. I mean, yes we were tired. We had just spent the entire morning eating breakfast burritos, drinking blackberry fermented “juice” and watching a marathon of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Wouldn’t you be tired too?


This is me midway through a lager and conversation. If you’ve spent any amount of time with me on a beautiful day sipping some spirits, you know my thought process. Unfortunately, this thought process usually turns into a vocal adaptation. Here it is in a nutshell:
  1. I really like hanging out with you guys
  2. Isn’t it beautiful out?
  3. Yes, pour me a little.
  4. Okay, a bit more.
  5. Shouldn’t we go on a trip together?
  6. My parents are going to pass away someday. (This sounds like a horrible statement. But it’s not intended to be. I’m only consoled when someone reminds me that 63 is the new 53.)
  7. Wait, I’m going to pass away some day.
  8. Are you guys going to miss me?
  9. What would you say about me at the funeral?
  10. Is anyone listening?
  11. So back to that trip…
  12. What. You don’t want to go on one now? It’s okay, I’m over our mortality. I promise.
  13. So what have you been up– wait. Back to me. What have I been up to? Well … [insert 30 minutes of non-stop talking*]
  14. Cackling laughter
  15. Did I tell you how much I like hanging out with you?

*This is actually a false statement. Ever since starting this blog, I now have nothing to talk about in person (re: myself)

 


After a few hours, I started to notice a decline in our host T. To the point where he grabbed hold of a turkey leg and pounded his phone with one digit. Next he would be dragging a woman along the ground by her hair.

Luckily we had to leave for our Thriller debut before seeing that caveman spectacle.

But I did get to see (and experience) a Big Lebowski scene with R while getting ready for Thriller. Except this time it was baby powder and not ashes.


Friends, there is absolutely one vital thing to bring along to a 12-yr old’s Thriller competition. Good sports of husbands. Man, they didn’t complain once. They made fun of it all (and us), but never complained. Even when we asked them to do their best zombie stance.

Awesome.

This isn’t the last you’ll see of J & T. They’re coming down for the Adventure Race next weekend. I’ll probably look like a zombie in those photos as well. Need to start exercising. Stat.

No, please sit down. Standing ovations embarrass us.

My friend J signed me and our husbands up to take part in a world record breaking event. With satellite locations around the world, everyone had to start the The Thriller dance at exactly the same time. http://www.thrilltheworld.com

Okay.

Why did the four of us bring the mean age of the Claremore, OK group up by 20 years? Oh right. Because the rest of the group was in 6th grade.

R got checked out a few times by the middle schoolers, thinking that maybe he went to the school in the next town over. Back off girls. This Ralph Macchio is mine. So what if I look like I could be his mother, lay off.

The good news of the night: I didn’t have to add much powder to my hair to make it gray.

So, I’ll leave you with the final product. J & I are on the left in the first and second rows. R & T are on the right in the third and fourth rows. I must warn you however that, at this point in the night, I had forgotten most of the steps… thanks to spending the previous 4 hours at the Tulsa Oktoberfest in a dirndl.
R’s favorite part? The jumping high-five at the end with T.

Calculated Risk

Uh, no. Not going to walk out onto that ledge to see the waterfall, R. I mean look at it, will you. There’s nothing supporting it.

Fine, go. Go look at the waterfall by yourself. I’ll stand here and take photos of you while it collapses.

Don’t walk out on it like you’re not afraid. I know you ar- wait! Don’t go all the way out to the edge, R! You’re going out too far, you hear me?


Come over? Um, no. Wait, what? You’ll buy me a chocolate malt later if I do? Well…

…okay, I’ll just barely step onto it.


There’s not a lot of weight in my big toe, is there R? Not before the chocolate malt? I heard you.

[Gasp]

How is this thing being held up?

By friggen tape???!!!


Okay, I’ll take a deep breath. No, be quiet, R. I need to concentrate. One, two, and jump onto the landing.

Oh, wow. Look at that. Okay, it’s not so bad. Why were you freaking out back there R?


So where’s my malt?