Baby Girl's Christmas Concert and a lesson in child protection

Baby Girl's preschool class performed Christmas concerts Monday and Tuesday. I brought the video camera Monday, only to find out there was no tape in it. Damn it.

Tuesday morning, we searched high and low, but could not find any tapes. Fuck.

So Gumby quickly downloaded an app to his iPhone that allowed him to video take it with it (crafty, that one!).

Baby Girl is 2nd from the end in the gray sweater and pig-tails. Sweet Jebus, that kid is cute.

And today she got "big girl boots". Up until now, she has always gotten boots that Little Man can wear the next year, because I'm cheap thrifty. So we currently have several pairs of navy Land's End boots.

While we were visiting Santa Monday night, we realized Little Man's boots were too small. Normally he would get Baby Girl's boots and she'd get new boots. Except when we went to Land's End today and tried on the next size up, they were way too freakin' big for her. She couldn't walk and they would not stay on.

So I had to buy the same size she had, but figured I might as well let her get a girly colored pair, since Little Man would just wear the navy ones next year. So she got a pair of light blue ones that match her snowpants/coat lining. Yes, I'm a nerd.


Yesterday we had a minor blizzard here, 12+ inches of snow. The city was pretty much shut down until noon, so Baby Girl's preschool was closed. We headed over to the In-laws for some sledding.

I, of course, have a terrible cold. I stayed in when we got there and ate my Taco Smell. Gumby ate his as well and we watched the kids from the picture window and the dog was out there with him.

Now. A bit about the dog. He's fiercely protective of the kids. And rightfully so. So normally when the kids are out, he's always within 15 feet of them, especially if we are not out there with them (which doesn't happen often or for very long, with the exception of winter, when I will happily watch from the picture window the entire time they become "one" with nature. heh)

All of the sudden the dog took off. Baby Girl was calling him in her best Boston accent, "Hunt-a!". I opened the window and gave a shout out and he didn't come back, so I figured the little shit was chasing some prey.

Alas, I did hear some ruckus by the neighbor dogs, but typically that means our dog is chasing prey and the neighbor dogs want to hunt with him, but they have an electric fence, so it's the worst tease EVER.

Gumby heads out to sled with the kids and the dog come back and they all happily play for at least 30 minutes, maybe 45? The damn dog was so cute, bounding in the snow, playing catch with Gumby. He'd charge up to one of the kids, lick 'em and bound off again.

They all finally start to file in the house and the dog has the biggest grin on his face. But then I notice some blood by his ear.

"Come here booger-butt, what'd you do to yourself?" (don't you love my pet name for him?)

Except it was some blood, it was a lot of blood. On both ears. And his back hind-quarter. And his jowl. Holy hell, what just happened to our dog?!?

My MIL comes over and we clean him up and I'm pretty anxious and she tells me he's fine, he tangled with something, blah, blah, blah.

We wait a while and are still talking about it. Then my MIL says, "Well, we do have both a coyote and a cougar that come through our yard."

Oh shit.

We ultimately decide she should at least call the vet (at 4:55 PM, on a Friday, of a blizzard...righhhht)

Normal vet is closed and referred us to the Emergency vet (hello second mortgage sized bill!). She calls what she thinks is the previous vet they used (she got confused and it was actually the vet they used 20 years ago *smacks head on keyboard*.

They freak out mildly and say we need to bring him immediately and they'll wait for us.

Gumby and I drag booger-butt off to the vet. He gets a very clean bill, but they give us pain pills and an antibiotic for him.

Essentially, what we think happened is that he was out with the kids, got the scent of something he didn't want near the kids (more than likely the coyote) and took off to let him/her know in no uncertain terms our yard was off limits. And when Gumby went out, he had either finished the fight or knew it was OK for the kids to be out because Gumby was there.

I'm not sure I could love that dog anymore than I do at this moment. I'm a bit freaked out now about the kids outside and my FIL is insisting the dog be leashed at all times (not sure how that's going to go down...normally Gumby and the dog play a lot of catch, which isn't happening if he's on leash).

But that dog made out like a bandit last night. Not only did he get several bones from my MIL while she made her beef stock, he got some cinna-twists from Taco Smell and that dog loves nothing more than sugar.

There are times when I look at our goofy collection of rescue animals and my heart swells. They are really the coolest, motley crew ever.

Damn truck

Today I worked at 10:30 AM. As I arrived at work (early!), I turned off the truck and tried to pull out the key, but it didn't move. I slightly twisted the key, thinking I had gone past the "removal" point and had gone into axillary power.

Except it still didn't come out. I bent over to look and saw ice (!) at the top of the metal key part. I flick if off, hoping that was the end of it. Alas, I was again, wrong.

The whole frickin' key was frozen in the ignition. In my 17 years of driving, I've never had this happen. I blame Dodge.

So I had to sit in the truck and wait for it to warm up completely (because the 4 minute drive from our driveway to the Walgreens parking lot was not not enough to warm it). Which meant, I was a few minutes late to work.

At least they had a good laugh about it.

The children had a good time playing Wii tonight. They were playing baseball when I got home and did some Wii fit before bed.

Other than that, not a whole lot in the day.

Taking the good with the bad.

Today was Little Man's first appointment with the dentist. He did well, no cavities and he was patient with the whole thing. First he saw me have my exam and cleaning, then it was his turn. Of course they decided to fit in an emergency between my exam and Little Man's, so poor kid had to wait quite a while.

We were going to meet Gumby for lunch, but were delayed too much before picking up Baby Girl from preschool. So off we went to get Baby Girl and then went to have lunch with Daddy, aka, Gumby.

We went for wings, 'cause it's 60 cent boneless wing day. Mmmmm...wings....

As we arrived, the kids dashed off to the lower part of the restaurant where you can watch the traffic by the mall. There was a table of maybe 7 gentleman from the Army, in camo.

The first thing I hear as my beasts claim their table is, "Watch your mouth now." from the head dude at the Army table.

I look up surprised, mumbled a, "Sorry guys." to them, but was appreciative.

We had lunch and at some point the kids asked about the American flag on the uniforms, so we ended up having a conversation about it.

"Mumma, why do they have American flags?"

"Well, it's their job to protect it. To protect us from bad guys."

"How come?"

"Well, that's their job, they decided that's what they want to do."

I really didn't want to get into anything more. But they asked more questions, much too wise for 3 and 4. And we had a good chat about it.

I didn't think the guys were paying attention, but as they left, one thanked Gumby and Gumby was quite confused.

"Why are you confused? There's a huge anti-war sentiment going on right now. We may not agree with the war, but we'll ALWAYS support our troops. They heard us speaking positively to the kids about them."

And I was oddly moved by all of it. I will say, it is moving to see soldiers in uniform, knowing they are protecting me and my freedoms that I completely take for granted (hey, I admit it).

As we were leaving there was a woman, she was huge. I'm a big woman, but was small compared to her. And I knew something was up.

I had Little Man and Gumby was delayed behind me with Baby Girl. I was trying to maneuver Little Man out of the building and this woman was blocking us. Totally stalling and kept moving in front of me.

As we got out into the freezing cold, she turned around and said, "Excuse me."

I, dumbly, thought she was apologizing for being so fucking slow, but oh no, she was not.

"Excuse me, I'm homeless with no money. I slept outside last night with only this bag." As she shows me her bag. "I have no food."

To which I respond by shoving my leftovers at her. And I SHIT. YOU. NOT. She turned her nose up and said, "What's this?!?" As if I'd just handed her rat poison.

"Chicken wings!" I respond with more cheer than a freshly blown elf.

I'm sure she promptly threw them away, which is annoying. But fuck, if you're really that hungry, eat that shit. Clearly you were hanging out at Buffalo Wild Wings, so you're not opposed to the food.

"Have a nice day!" I cheerily sang as I walked away, pretending I didn't notice her trying to see what was in my purse (mental note, close the damn clasp on purse).

It's interesting to me. When "homeless" people approach me for food. I often give them whatever leftovers I have (because either we eat out a lot, or I typically get hit up after eating out). Most times, I've been met with complete disdain. Because you know, I'm not giving them money and the option to get the food THEY want. Umm, hello? If you're that damn hungry, you'll eat it. I think twice, I was met with true appreciation and that was great.

But the rest of them are a bunch of lazy, fucking douche bags that can just go fuck themselves.

Black Friday

I have to say, we did the whole Black Friday thing today and it was mildly disappointing. There was not as much stuff on sale this year, IMO. Or at least "small ticket" items. Sure, there were a shit ton of HD tv's, but we're not in the market for that currently.

I got a few gifts today, but I got called into work and am now tired as hell.

Blah.

A day to give thanks and to reflect

I'm a huge fan of 2 blogs in particular. The woman who write them are so talented and creative and make me laugh my ass off. And I'll admit, they've turned me to on a few other blogs, which is cool.

The first blog I really started following was Gwendomama. I can't even remember how I learned of her blog, but I was immediately hooked with her talk of a lavender sugar and cupcakes. I'm always a sucker for fancy recipes that make me a genius to Gumby, heh. (and we wonder why he went for a 32" waist when we started dating to his current 40").

Then I learned of Elijah. Gwendomama is very open about Elijah and losing him. And I have literally sobbed through her posts. Then one day, she made reference to Tanis, The Redneck Mommy.

And Tanis, loves to speak of her breasts, evil tricks she plays on her children and her life as a redneck. I think she's my long lost sister. heh.

But Tanis also has experienced horrific loss, of Bug, her son. And sweet fuck, did I sob reading her story. I was hysterical one night (which probably is not a natural reaction and probably another reason I'm in therapy, but that's another post for another day).

So one might ask, "What the fuck is your obsession with reading depressing (albeit funny) blogs about people's kids dying?

I can't actually answer that specifically, 'cause I'm not really sure myself.

What I do know is that nine years ago today, I learned Gumby and I were going to be parents.

I remember it clear as day. I have inexplicably quit my job of almost 5 years a few weeks earlier. So no benefits, that's always smart, right?!?

I remember being in the powder room at Gumby's folks, washing my hands and looking in the mirror. I was wearing these awesome mustard colored pants and a similar colored sweater. And I as I washed my hands, I was looking at myself, lamenting that I must have gained some weight, because DAMN, that sweater was tight around my boobs and hadn't been when I bought it a few weeks earlier.

*lightbulb starts to flicker above my head*

What the fuck? Why the hell would my boobs be bigger?

Er. Um.

When WAS my last period.

*lightbulb is now burning bright*

Oh shit.

The next day, I was off and Gumby had to work. As he was in the shower, I ran across the street to the drug store and bought a pregnancy test. He left for work and I anxiously peed on a stick.

I might as well not have, I think I could have just waved it at me, I was so fucking pregnant. The damn thing glowed happily at me.

What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?

Gumby got home that night and I said we needed to talk.

"So....have you noticed my boobs are bigger?"

'cause it was kinda hard to miss, since I'm normally a DD and had to have been pushing DDDD.

"You're pregnant?"

"Yep."

To which there was much discussion over what would happen next. Because I was working for a temp agency (fucking hormones) and we were still living in the world's smallest one bedroom apartment on the Eastside (our rent was a whopping $395 at the time).

Abortion was brought up. And I knew it was not something I wanted to do. But I also saw the fear in Gumby's eyes and wasn't sure I was strong enough to do the kid thing on my own if he decided to run (which, was a very valid fear...sorry babe).

Gumby's folks left the next day for a month long trip to Hawaii and to sail on the brother-in-laws Naval ship back from Hawaii (trust me, it was the trip of a lifetime, but they would have had to have flown me off the damn ship. I could barely handle the 3 day trip we did 2 years later).

A few days later I told my Mom. To which she asked what our plan was and I still really didn't know. A few days later, I knew I couldn't have an abortion. I knew I wanted to be a Mommy too much and I would make it work if Gumby and I didn't work out. It was a Divine plan of some sort in my mind.

So again, Gumby came home and I told he we needed to talk. I would not be having an abortion. I will fight for a person's right to have that ability, but it wasn't the right choice for me, I was keeping the baby.

"So we need to get married then." That was his response.

Because he's romantic and thoughtful that way.

"I'm not marrying you just because I'm pregnant. If you didn't want to marry me BEFORE I was pregnant, why the fuck would I marry you now?"

"Because if I don't marry you, my Dad is going to kill me when they get back. Or they're going to make us get married. And then I'll just say, 'Told ya so.'"

Which is why, 9 years later, we laugh when he says, "Told ya so."

Stubborn mule I am, I refused. The next day I start to find out about getting medical insurance.

Huh. Apparently if you're ALREADY pregnant, you can't buy insurance. And I couldn't afford the almost $400 a month COBRA would cost from my previous job.

And then I started calling about daycare costs. And I certainly could not afford daycare earning $12.50 an hour.

That night I felt a little weird, so I called Labor & Delivery. I knew the resident on call and she said she'd do a quick scan. I went in and she couldn't find much (since we didn't know how far along I was).

So the next day, I called my OB. She sent me for another ultrasound. It was there we saw the baby and heartbeat. And I was over the moon. But I was only a little over 5 weeks along by that ultrasound.

I should have known something was up, but I chalked it up to the fact that every fetus develops differently and ultrasound is not accurate, especially at that point in pregnancy.

A few days later, I knew I had to marry Gumby if we were going to have this child. So I agreed.

My parents and Grandparents had the same anniversary, December 22nd. I thought it would be nice if we got married on the same day, so we set it in motion.

Gumby's folks were still gone and not reachable, so we went to visit the next best thing, Mary, who is my mother-in-law's best friend.

We explained what was going on and our plan to marry on 12/22. The in-laws would not be back until 12/23. Mary knew my in-laws would be heartbroken if they missed it. So after much struggle (selfishly on my part, I admit) I agreed to change the date to 12/29.

On December 17th, Gumby and I were babysitting for some friends. Their little girl was so sweet and I was so happy to be there. And I felt, weird. I couldn't place my finger on it, but I just wasn't feeling right.

After the child went to bed, I went to the bathroom. And I was spotting. Not heavily, but it was still there.

It put me in a funk and I just blurted it to Gumby, rather rudely, when I got out of the bathroom. For whatever reason, the baby woke up, so I held her tightly for a long time, rocking her and singing to her.

The next day, Saturday, I started cramping. I called my OB. She prescribed progesterone and immediate bedrest for one day. If the pregnancy was going to stick, it would get better that day and not be an issue the next and I should resume regular activity the next day.

The progesterone did stop the cramping on Saturday, but it was there again on Sunday. We had tickets to the Admirals in the box, so hell yeah, I wanted to go and I knew there was no stopping what was going to happen.

Of we went to the game. An hour into it I went to the bathroom and was now bleeding heavily.

"Time to go." I said to Gumby when I got out.

He flew into action and had us out of the Bradley Center in short order.

"Do we go to the hospital?" He asked.

"No, just go home."

I went to the bathroom again at home and when I wiped, I felt something. And I knew.

My shoulders slumped and I slowly looked at my "prize" from wiping.

And on the toilet paper was my baby.

Oh, how I cried and sobbed. Gumby flew into the bathroom to check on me and saw the icky glob I was crying over. Poor guy isn't good with blood and it was all he could do not to vomit. He quickly closed the door and asked (from the other side, heh) if he could do anything.

There was not.

We did get married on December 29th. And I have struggled for a very long time to deal with that miscarriage (and the 2 that happened years later when we were actually trying to have a baby).

So maybe that's why I read those blogs. Maybe its because I know how hard my losses were, but these woman have survived the deaths of their children that they already had. Mine were still just the hopes of what were to come.

So today is the anniversary of how we ended up married. Long fucking story to get to that, eh?

But now I have 2 beautiful babies. And they are healthy and full of laughter. And nothing else makes me happier in this world (again, sorry babe...I love you, but you are not nearly as endearing when you pass gas...they make it look goooood. ;)

A sense of accomplishment.

So we moved into this place almost 6 months ago. It was the fucking move from hell as our old landlord offered us extra $$$ to leave early, but our new landlord would not budge on letting us in early. So we ultimately lived at the in-laws for a week and all our shit was in storage.

And I shit you not, Little Man turned 3 the day after we moved in and I traveled the next day for a week.

Never again people.

All our shit has been thrown into the basement with little concern for where it landed as long as there was a path to the laundry area, the computer and the litter box.

'Cause we have priorities, if nothing else in this house. Heh.

But it's been pissing me the fuck off. Because more and more shit gets thrown down there and then the in-laws had the gall to ask us to take some of our shit back. I mean come on, they couldn't store all our china and our bicycles for a few years?!? (I jest...sort of)

And it's become a battle. The bicycles came home about a month and a half ago. And I made Gumby buy bike hooks that night, so the bikes could be hung from the rafters, because damn it, we don't need more shit on the floor down there.

And I've been asking weekly since for him to put up the damn hooks. And it finally came to a battle last night about it. 'Cause like I said, I was cranky as fuck yesterday.

But alas, the bikes are finally hung tonight.

And we threw out a shit ton of boxes from the basement (the landlord is probably thinking, "Oh shit...they've decided to stay.") And the front of our house looks like our basement threw up.

But.

Guess.

What.

There is progress in the basement. I've managed to get all the Christmas stuff on the same side of the basement (cue angels singing). The china has been stored where it is least likely to get damaged.

I'm thinking I'll have it done this weekend. 'Cause the tree is going up this weekend. My sister asked if we could put it up and I agreed, much to Gumby's irritation.

I'm roasting a turkey tomorrow for Thanksgiving and making a cherry pie. Then for our dinner, I have a pork shoulder roast marinating in the fridge for a beauitful pulled bbq pork tomorrow.

I'm looking forward to it.

And with that, I'm off to veg out in front of the tv.

Weird Ass Monday

So I totally went to bed late. Much later than I should have. But Baby Girl has an ear infection and was still running a fever, so I knew she'd be home and Little Man would obviously be home. So, you know...gives me mild permission to stay up late.

Fast forward to 6:30 AM, a few short hours later and Gumby's alarm was blaring. I managed to ignore it by elbowing him in the ribs to turn it off.

Around 8 AM my phone goes off and I look at it bleary-eyed and see it's my folks.

"Hello?" (drool running down chin)

It's my Mom. My Aunt (her sister) died this morning. She was diagnosed 7 days ago with the same cancer my Grandma died from 5 years ago (Grandma was 70, my Aunt was pushing 50, but not there yet).

"Are you fucking kidding me?" (more drool down chin)

Yeah, so very bizarre. Very concerning for the rest of us females in the family.

I feel awful for her son, my cousin. He is only 18 and very ill-prepared for this. I hope he finds the strength he needs in the future.

I've been cranky most of the day. Did not help that there was snow on the ground when I got up. But the kids went out to play for a while (I cheated and sat on my kitchen chair, watching them through the patio doors, occasionally opening it to shout out the obligatory, "Don't eat the snow from the grass!" or "Don't kick your sister!")

'Cause I'm a good Mom like that.

But it's been a very weird day.

Little Man is Going Commando

Little Man had to "go to the bathroom" during dinner.

Which is code for, "I don't want to eat this shit you pulled together that manages to involve all of the food groups, but is not at all what a 3 year wants to eat."

Ungrateful little fucker.

So I listen to Little Man goof off in the bathroom (including falling off the toilet for a second time). Finally I go in and he's standing there, picking his nose. Fantastic.

Dude, get out of the bathroom.

"NOOOOO...I have to go potty Mumma!"

Uggg.

A bit later he wanders out, pants in hand and insists I help put his pants on.

*sigh*

Put your pants on son.

He finally gets his pants on and asks me to button them (understandable in those pants, they are snug in the waist). I start to button and don't feel those Wall-E underpants he had on earlier.

"Dude, where are your underwear?"

"Dunno. Maybe the kitchen floor?"

"Go get your underpants kid."

He comes back with his underpants, pulls off his jeans and promptly gets distracted by a book. So now he's sitting sans any pants, reading a book on my living room carpet.

Let's just hope he wiped well when he was done, shall we?

Things I like

1. Snuggling on the couch
2. Top Gear. Seriously. I almost pissed myself laughing while watching last night.
3. Honey Roasted peanut butter. This is a new thing, I bought it on a whim and can't keep my finger out of the damn jar now.
4. Hope Floats. Damn movie makes me cry every time. And Harry Connick Jr could not be hotter.
5. Dave Matthews. I love most everything Dave. But this is an absolute favorite (again, I sob like a baby) with this being a very close second.
6. Tricky Fingers. If you don't know what it is, you should. That's some fun shit.
7. Rock Band and Rock Band 2. Good times.
8. Kate Spade bags. I wish I could afford more.
9. KitchenAid. It's an addiction. A good addiction.
10. Our camper. it's freakin' awesome.

Was it wrong...

When I was either a freshman or sophomore in high school, I was asked to work in the "special needs" classroom, specifically the technology room. Which, back in the early '90's meant a typing class.


I was assigned to a male student, I don't remember exactly what his disability was, but I want to say it was cerebral palsy. We got along well; he couldn't speak well, but I noticed he stared at my breasts a lot.


Then one day, he got very excited and he flung his hand at them. He didn't have much control, so his hand just hit my breast, but didn't linger. I didn't make a deal about it because, well, let's be honest, I was 15 or 16 and really inexperienced and didn't know if it was on purpose or an accident.


Except it continued to happen for the rest of the semester.


I never made an issue of it and I never really discussed it. I think in my feeble teenage mind, I was letting him do something he otherwise wouldn't be able to do and I justified it as I wasn't doing anything MORE with him. Ahem.


So that raises the question, was that the right thing to do? Now as a parent, I would be upset if someone did that to Baby Girl (or even Little Man). Not sure why this suddenly came back to my memory, but, hell, I don't know why half the stuff in my brain is there.

Welcome

So here I go...I'm jumping on this phenom called "blogging". heh.

About me. I say "so" a lot. And I mean A LOT. Prepare yourself.

I've been married for 8 or 9 years, depending on who you ask. We have 2 kids. And 2 cats.

Our 2 kids are my universe. Baby Girl is 4 going on 16 and Little Man is 3. They make me laugh daily, if not hourly, even at their worst.

I recently lost my job, which isn't as bad as it sounds; the loss of money sucks, but there are other benefits. Now I'm working several part time jobs in the evening and on weekends to keep a small influx of money coming in, but it's all good.

I love to write and love to tell stories, so a "real" blog (other than Myspace) seems appropriate, especially since I've not written in my journal in Gawd knows how long.

My best friend lives in Portland, OR (and subsequently, is the coolest hair dresser EVER. You need dreads or extensions? Let me know...) Her living there sucks for me as I miss her, but is awesome for her as she met her true love there and was recently married to him, so you know, there's benefits to breaking my heart.

sniff:sniff

Kidding.

We like to camp. We bought a 1975 camper with my Father-in-laws blessing. Turned out to be a piece of shit, but kind man that my FIL is, he rebuilt that sucker into the rad camper it is now. I love that damn thing. Plus it stood up to an almost tornado the summer before this.

An "almost tornado" you wonder?

We were all camping up at my folks trailer. Gumby's folks were in their camper and my folks have a double wide mobile home. Gumby, my sisters and I had gone into Wisconsin Dells to go to Mt. Olympus (a must if you love go-karts and some really cool wooden roller coasters).

The four of us stopped for ice cream before we headed back, enjoying the muggy summer night. Then we saw the lightening off towards where Mom & Dad's place is. Hmmm.

Sooooo, off we head as they were all watching our kids and I knew the kids would freak a bit in the storm.

It's a 30-40 minute drive back to my folks and we get there and it's pouring rain. The kids are trying to sleep in the camper and I sit with them. All of the sudden the wind kicks up and the camper is literally rocking back and forth and I can see that roof my FIL so kindly replaced getting extremely shaky.

I don't like storms. I should mention that now.

Gumby walks his Mom back to her camper and comes back right away.

I look at Gumby and ask, "Um, so at what point to we go to the house?"

He mutters at me ('cause apparently I'm a wuss and not up to his "roughing it" standards); at which point, I shit you not, the camper literally started to lift up a little.

To which I grab a sleeping child can and start to head for the house. Gumby grabs our daughter (she'd older, thus heavier) and we make a run for the house and a lawn chair flies at me. I do a super cool action movie kick to block the chair so it doesn't hit the confused, half-asleep boy in my arms.

We are soaked by the time we get to the house. Gumby heads back out for his folks (his Dad has broken his ankle at the start of this trip).

And there we all sit in the house, waiting the storm out.

I'm rambling now.

So yeah. That's me.

I love cooking and baking, which comes form my maternal Grandmother. She was a cook in an executive dining room for one of the largest banks around. And she was born and raised in Germany, so the woman could cook German food like no ones business.

I love to do cross stitch, which comes from both my Mom and my Grandma.

As a toddler, I was a pinball genius. My paternal Grandparents owned a tavern and we were there quite a bit and I played pinball non-stop.

I love to play kickball, volleyball and softball. I just hate running. heh.

I have terrible allergies to dust mites. I've had this my entire life, but they were only recently able to diagnosis it with advanced testing (normal testing showed me to have no allergies).

I love Food Network. Seriously, I could watch it 24/7, though I have a newfound crush/love for Anthony Bourdain, which requires me to watch the Travel Channel.

My ideal roadtrip partners (other than DH and my BFF) would be Anthony Bourdain, Mario Batali and Dave Matthews. And Jason Mraz.

I'm massively in love in Dave Matthews. I think he's genius and his music speaks to my soul.

I think that's enough of an intro tonight.