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Potluck – All New – Travel Sized
That’s right, my friends: It’s time for another edition of
Potluck:*HeidiStyle™ – Now Travel Sized for My Convenience
*Potluck and all potluck related randomness totally stolen from Holly.
Legal disclaimer: Today's potluck is not shorter than average. Instead, the words "travel sized" could loosely be interpreted as "travel themed".
Now with more buttons!
…but probably won’t get one because, hello! it’s May and I’m busy.
- In one week we had three big field trips, including a six-hour train trip to Seattle, a fish dissection class on the Oregon coast, and an evening in Portland for the opera: The Barber of Seville (Figaro-Figaro-Figaro!). Two of these events happened on the same day.
- I thought Shasta was dying. She wasn’t eating and spent much of her time lying around the house. Turns out she didn’t like her new brand of dog food. I switched her and wha-la: she’s back to her old self, chasing squirrels along the fence line.
- Newt ran a local one-mile race for kids. We are now training for a 5k – her idea. She confided to me that she likes racing, but doesn’t really like running. When I told her we didn’t have to do the race, she got all indignant and rolled her eyes at me like I was some kind of raving lunatic.
- Despite the running, I am getting fat-ish. Stop Dieting, Start Potlucking
If you feel you must have a full post on any of these subjects, let me know and I’ll see what I can do.
Newt left this morning for a three day camp-out with her girl scout troop. I had planned to accompany her, until she *ever so politely asked if I would please stay home. Turns out she is ready for some adventure on her own.
Don’t tell her, but I was ready for some adventure on my own too. Apparently, adventure for me means Potluck.
Besides, who could eat s’mores after viewing this?
*I feel the need to explain that I was not being sarcastic there. Newt really did ask respectfully and politely for me to please stay away from her camp-out.
Attention perverts: I’m afraid I do not have what you are looking for when you google:
- mom without her clothes
- brady bunch girls wearing pantyhose
- I could not watch my moms colleague pant
In all fairness, that last one might be from a pet lover and Mom’s colleague could be a thirsty dog. If so, I apologize for calling you a pervert.
However, to those of you who googled:
- bad home perm
- getting a home perm
- permed mullet
- permutation frantically perms
Sadly, you’ve come to the right place. But I was 12! Can’t we all just get over it? (By the way, not to get all grammar policey, but you should have put a hyphen in perm-mutation.)
It’s out of control. Clean laundry in a pile on the floor (shoved off the bed last night). A load in the washer, another in the dryer, yet somehow the baskets are still overflowing onto the floor. We have three people in this family – how is this situation even possible?
I really should be doing my laundry.
May all your s’mores be murder-free.
*You wouldn’t hit a dog with glasses, would you?
The next time a certain horrible little creature makes a mess that results in me to having to use the washing machine, the carpet cleaner and the bathtub, all before breakfast, she’ll be sorry.
She may look smart, but it’s just an act.
*I suppose not, but I would give one a very stern talking to. Very stern!
And I might neglect to rub a belly, no matter how pleadingly it presents itself.
The Seamy Side of Halloween
Why is it that some girls think Halloween is a good excuse to change from normal, family-lovin’ gals to inappropriately dressed vixens?
It starts with the flirty doe-eyes. Puh-lease! Act your age.
And that dress? I know it’s hot in Hawaii, but your neckline is a bit low cut for October in Oregon, don’t you think?
Okay, now you’ve definitely crossed a line. Have you no shame?
OH MYLANTA! If you have children on your laps, quick, cover their eyes! I don’t know how this slipped past the censors.
See what I mean? Totally inappropriate.
Feeling a sense of deja-vu? This post originally ran last year, but I had to “reanimate” it for the holiday. Whahahahaha!
Happy Halloween!
Announcement
Our baby is ugly.
But our dog is cute.
The Diggingest Dog
Mo-om! Shasta is digging again!
Shasta! No!
No, Shasta! Bad dog!
Dum de dum de dum… what a nice day…
What the… Shasta, what have you been doing?
Who me? Nothing…
Shasta! Have you been digging holes again?
Um…no?
Then what is that?
Busted.
Mom! Come out here and see what Shasta did!
Great. What has that #$@% dog been doing this time?
Is that a…?
It is! She dug a mole out of the yard!
Mo-om! Shasta’s digging again!
What a good dog!
Okay…so there were a few words. If you want a truly Wordless Wednesday, go here.
Weekly Highlight
Want to know why Shasta is so clean?
She has had three baths this week.
Apparently she views the new compost bin as her own personal buffet and rolling zone.
Mmmmm, moldy leftovers.
Dog heaven.
Fever
If you are here for another chapter in my hot little romance, I’m sorry. The only hotness going on around here today is GW’s fever.
No, she doesn’t have that yucky hacky thing that’s going around. She had that last week.
And then gave it to Mr. Frantic.
And then gave it to me.
That girl has never had trouble sharing.
Nope, I’m pretty sure that this fever is due to an ear infection. And I’m pretty much an expert on ear infections since this will be her 3,468th, or so. She has had surgery to put tubes in her ears four times. They usually pop out right about the time we pay the last bill.
In other news, the dog keeps vomiting on my carpet. The rawhide dog bones that she got in her Christmas stocking don’t seem to agree with her, but someone keeps giving them to her. And someone else keeps forgetting to throw them away. So someone has to lug out the carpet cleaner and hope that there are no chunks. In case you were wondering, I am someone two out of three times.
And yes, the dog got her own Christmas stocking.
Why?
1-The symmetry of four stockings looked better on the mantle.
2- We have an eight year old girl with a large nurturing instinct.
3- We will not be having any more children.
4- The dog is now our baby.
About the clover: Picnik did not have a fig leaf and I couldn’t show our baby’s hoo-hoo to the internet.
This is not that kind of blog.
I don’t know what kind of blog it is, but it is not that kind.
Speaking of sick, I mentioned that GW shared her horrible hacking feverish cold with me, right? That is how I came to be sitting in church on Sunday with a major Nyquil hangover. Instead of listening I drew pictures with GW.
She has a huge Harry Potter obsession going on right now so she drew Hedwig.
I drew Harry.
She drew Hermione.
I drew a creepy looking Voldemort wearing a party hat, holding a cupcake and shouting “I wanted chocolate! Avada kedavra!”
After that I decided that maybe I should go home and go back to bed.
I’m feeling much better now, thanks. Just in time for me to take care of ear infections and dog vomit.
Yup, I’m living the dream.
The next installment of A Whirlwind Romance will be up Friday.
Take that, 70′s cat poster!
[Heidi would like to mention that she found this bizarre cat photo randomly floating on the internet, but could not find out who {whom?} to credit it to. If it belongs to you, contact Heidi and she will give you credit for the easy your part. But the snappy caption is all hers.]
Guess what? I’m glad it’s Monday.
Wanna know why? Monday means that last week is officially over.
The Week of Despair.
[Heidi would now like to tell her mother to put down the phone. She was not really in despair. That was merely a melodramatic middle-child talking. Seriously. Put. It. Down. Putitdown! She's fine.]
Last week, I felt like I had too much on my plate, but no appetite.
Last week, I wanted to run away from home.
Or just unplug my phone.
And eat chocolate.
Under my covers.
Alone.
Last week, um, well…last week doesn’t matter, because it’s Monday! Holla!
It is now This Week!
And This Week could turn out to be anything.
Even The Super Fantastic Week of Hearts, Rainbows, and Unicorns I’ve been waiting for my whole middle-child life.
It could happen. Anything could.
And that’s why I love Mondays.
[Heidi would like to refer to herself in third-person for the third time because sometimes she is OCD like that. Here is a photo that she deserves all the credit for. Except for the creation of the cute little nub on the dog's hind end. If you are responsible for that, contact Heidi so she can give you credit. Thank you.]
*****
Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You sponsored by We are THAT Family
Snowed In
Cozy.
Right now, I am curled up on the couch with a blanket and my warmest wool socks. The tv is off. The Christmas lights are on. A fire is crackling merrily in the wood stove. And outside my window the world has turned to ice.
As I write, I am trying not to listen to the conspiratorial whispers coming from Santa’s Workshop (aka: the studio with a blanket pinned over the doorway) where Mr. Frantic and Girl Wonder are busy crafting a little something for me to open Christmas morning.
Earlier today it was our turn. GW and I are sewing Daddy a new tie. We giggled over our choice of fabric, red with Bah Humbug! written on it. We just finished reading A Christmas Carol and my girl found the pre-changed Ebenezer to be oh-so-funny – I daresay, even more so than Spongebob. I am constantly amazed at who she is becoming. And I must admit, I frequently underestimate her. She can’t wait for me to read more Dickens to her.
But I was talking about the snow, or as the news refers to it: The Arctic Blast.
It had snowed every day for a week; then yesterday the freezing rain began. In our normally moderate climate that spells disaster. In fact, just now as I typed a major limb from the tree across the street, overburdened with ice, crashed to the ground. There will likely be many more to come. The roads are impossibly impassible. Even church was canceled today.
But we are home, warm and dry. Our freezer is stocked with plenty of food. The Christmas shopping is as done as it needs to be. What we don’t have, we can make. What we can’t make, we can do without.
We have all that we need, and all that we need is enough.
Who needs siblings?
Once upon a time there was a Heidi…
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