We can work it out

New smartphone means being able to post again. No more having to run to the desktop. Yeah, I said desktop. There have been baby steps in my technological advancement, so hopefully will there be a baby step in your entertainment.

Dance to the beat of my drum

Did you know I'm still around? Well I am. Unfortunately my time and attention has to be prioritized to say, I don't know, keeping young children alivefedandhappy. In that order.

If you can find it, look up Nicola Roberts' new video "Beat of My Drum". It's in my head incessantly and I absolutely love it. LOVE it.

I can only tell you I will try to come back. It'll be a great comeback - chock-full of crafts, art, music, nonsense, being mean to/about children (mostly mine) and husbands, and zombies!

Just kidding. I kinda like children and husbands.

See how she’s dancing out of the grave

It’s the return (get it?) of Zombie Friday, people!

Back to back
Belly to belly
Well I don’t give a damn
’cause I’m stone dead already
Back to Back
Belly to belly
It’s a zombie jamboree!

[Have you noticed, by the way, that all my post titles are song lyrics? Perhaps I should start telling you what the songs are….]

Anyway, during our Great San Antonio Adventure we came across the most awesome building. It is currently in use as an administration building for H.E.B., but before that it was an armory. Seriously. As soon as we entered the gates, The Husband and I were looking around at how cool it was. We parked and were walking back out of the compound and The Husband suddenly said, “When the zombie apocalypse comes we’re coming down here. This building is perfect.”

This is the entrance. There are cast iron gates, easily able to be reinforced against hordes of undead.

Multiple buildings will provide lots of space for our friends and family and other people willing to fight the good fight and not get eaten.

You can’t really tell from this photo but the building sits on a slight hill, providing an excellent vantage point to make sure we aren’t overtaken by competing humans or flesh-eating monsters.

Again, you can’t tell from this picture but just beyond the lamp post is access to The River. While this will probably be the weak point in our fortress, it will also help us get fresh water and possible trading opportunities with other compounds.

This was The Husband’s favorite part. The lowest level (that we could see) of the building sits below ground, and there is outside access to the lowest level. This is great, The Husband said, because we can put long stakes down there and if the zombies fall in they’ll pretty much take themselves out.

Finally, a perimeter fence. It’s not excessively high, but we’re operating on the assumption that zombies do not have full function of their motor skills and will therefore be unable to go over a fence. Same with stairs.

So we might be crazy. But when all the undead shit hits the fan, we know where we’ll be. Won’t you come along?

I’m havin a bad bad day

Have you ever had to jump up in the middle of your lunch to get a screaming kid more to eat so you decide to get a fruit cup too and you can’t peel back the plastic because your hands are dirty so you try to use your teeth and it pops open and spills fruit juice down your shirt and into your bra cup and you don’t have any time to change or even clean yourself up because there’s a kid screaming for more food and another one that needs to be picked up from school on time or he will surely be emotionally traumatized and you already have a dog with abandonment issues so since you shouldn’t say a bad word really loudly or cry and since you’ve given up smoking to please someone else even though it was the only time you ever had to yourself and surely the most relaxing part of your day you have to just suck it up and stay with a sticky boob until you bring home one kid and put the other one to nap and THEN you can run upstairs to try and shower all the while praying and begging the older kid doesn’t burn the house down so you hurry the hell up because the sleeping child will only stay asleep long enough for you to literally step into the shower but not long enough for you to actually shower so you shower while one is screaming and one is turning up the cartoons on the tv and coming upstairs every two minutes to tell you his brother is screaming and don’t forget it’s time to make dinner and somehow get the laundry folded and more loads started?

Fucking hell.

When that sun is high in that Texas sky

What feels like forever but was really two weekends ago, we packed up The Monsters and drove south to San Antonio for Fiesta. “Fiesta?” you say? “As in a party?” Not quite. “As in an entire month of pageants and fundraisers culminating in a week of parades and parties and festivals? When parking restrictions and open container laws mean absolutely nothing? When asking to see a pretty girl’s shoes isn’t creepy?” Yup.

There is a historical side to Fiesta, however. It all began in 1890 as a singular parade put on by the Daughters of the Republic of Texas to honor the heroes of the battles of the Alamo and San Jacinto. Fiesta now stretches over 11 days with over 100 events, has a huge economic impact on the city of San Antonio and raises money for many charities and causes in and around the city as well. The Battle of Flowers Parade (where I took the above photo of The Joey) is second in size only to the Tournament of Roses Parade, and continues to be the only parade in the country organized and produced by women. Plus, it’s just awesome! 

When we (finally) made it to San Antonio there was just enough time to sleep until early the next morning, when we got up early to go to The Battle of Flowers Parade.

If you think I should look a little happier to be at the most awesome place in April, you’re right. I was miserable. As it turns out I am allergic to absolutely everything outdoors, most especially oak and pecan pollens, and grass. So springtime in San Antonio when it’s dry and windy and everything is coated in pollen and grass seed is not my friend. I took Benadryl and kept falling asleep behind my sunglasses sitting and waiting for the parade to start. Which is funny now because I’ve since learned that The Husband and my cousin Bucky kept talking to me only to find out I was asleep behind my sunglasses. Ha!

When was the last time you saw McGruff the dog?! I got a little excited, all those flashbacks to D.A.R.E. and all.

 

 

 

 

This is the army band. And what was so awesome was that they are playing tejano music! I will make a confession here: I still have no idea what they’re saying or anything, but something about San Antonio makes me love tejano music.

 

 

 

 

 

This is pretty much what San Antonio is like during Fiesta. Beautiful, tradtional and draped in flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

I’m still trying to figure out why only Miss San Antonio was driven in a low-rider.

 

 

This is one of the more traditional floats I saw in the parade. I wish the photo could translate the fresh, earthy sweet smell of the flowers as they passed by. It was just beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

So then we got out the cascarones. Confetti eggs. And if you’ve never had the joy of cracking a dyed eggshell filled with paper confetti on the skull of your beloved cousins (shout out, R’s!), you’ve obviously never lived. The downside is that when you have insanely thick curly hair and you get that confetti in there because your aforementioned beloved cousins not only crack the shell on your skull but then rub it in you have to brush out your hair, immediately resulting in a Mexi-fro.

I didn’t take a picture of that.

Did I forget to mention that I had my wisdom tooth out the day before we left for San Antonio? I was so worried that I wouldn’t be able to eat all the yummies awaiting me down south, but it all worked out.

Except for the cerveza-ritas.

My cousins Bucky and Rae kept telling me and The Husband about some wonderful drink called a cerveza-rita. So since our grandmother was out of town* and we were staying there with The Monsters and Izzy the Wonder Dog alone, The Cousins brought over some liquor and beer and made Trey a cerveza-rita. Since I could neither drink through a straw nor ingest alcohol due to the wisdom tooth healing process, I just took the pictures of the cerveza-rita. I hope to have one soon. Very very soon. It wasn’t fair, and I may have pouted.

 

And that was just the end of day one.

 

*Who am I kidding? My grandmother would have probably pulled up a schooner with the rest of them. She’s kinda cool like that.

All the cheap and sugary philosophies

I could never attempt to put into words how much I love The Husband. Just yesterday I spent the entire day with The Doctor and he cancelled his plans to stay home with The Monsters. So I left the house carefree, had a tiring but lovely day with The Doctor. I headed home around 9pm and had a vision of walking in the door and having some dessert and TV time with The Husband before bed.

Um, nope.

The Monsters were still awake. And lively. Probably in that “I’m-so-tired-I’m-going-into-a-manic-state” kind of lively, but lively nonetheless. And evidence of dinner was everywhere. On the table, on the stove, in the sink and all over the counters. The Husband had obviously just bathed The Monsters and I found him putting lotion on The Elliot. He looked shell-shocked. Exhausted, like he’d just been through battle alone. And I guess technically he had. He’d been on his own with our heathen children for 12 hours. So I jumped into the fray and helped lull The Monsters into a quiet holding pattern (aka sleep), and then I found The Husband working on the dinner mess. I requested he put away the perishables and then ordered him to the couch to have dessert. We ate some strawberries and watched the news… well I watched the news. He mostly slept.

The Husband told me later on that he didn’t get half of what he wanted to do done, and he gets why I get so frustrated about most everything. And it took me a little while to think on it, but I turned to him and said this: “Honey, I’m kind of glad you didn’t get anything done today. Because I do it everyday and I end most days feeling like a complete failure because I didn’t get anything done. So thanks for failing today.”

I love my husband. And his failures. But not his messes. Those I barely tolerate. Time for some barely tolerating in the kitchen.

Come on get happy

Sometimes in life there are mysteries. And while I support unraveling the enigmas and conundrums of this vast and wondrous world we inhabit, there is one thing that I believe should remain shrouded in uncertainty.

Dentistry.

I don’t want to know anything about what a dentist is doing inside my mouth, unless he is implanting one of my molars with a tracking device for the aliens. [For the record, I watch a lot of “X-Files” on Netflix streaming.]

I had two fillings this afternoon. The only thing the dentist told me was “I’m going to put this topical numbing stuff on your gums now.” So after he did that, he never said “Now I’m going to use a needle and inject you with medicine” or anything of the sort. He hid the needle from me and I just looked away, or I did as best as I could laying in a dentist’s chair. He just did what he had to do, speaking to me in a soothing voice and it was a relatively positive experience overall. It was so awesome – he didn’t even tell me when he was starting to pull my wisdom tooth.

So thanks for keeping the mystery alive, Doc. You’re rad.

And my mouth hurts. Thanks for that, too.