Livin' the Dream...

A couple of weeks ago we had a visit from the Dish man, aka the cable repair man. We have satellite and apparently some trees found it necessary to grow into the path of our latitude and longitude broadband. We lost all viewing pleasure of the more critical channels in our home…Nick Jr. and Cartoon Network. LOL We were told the technician would be out to our home anytime between 8am and 1pm. Great! Stuck inside all day essentially, playing the waiting game. Much to our surprise the phone rings at 8:15am. It’s the Dish Lady’s voice informing us that the “Dish” man would be at our home in less than 20 minutes! WooHoo! William shows up and knows just what to do to fix the problem and is done in about 20minutes flat! Nice! He was a nice man, Genuine. Warm and Fuzzy. I couldn’t help but feel like he looked like someone I knew though, but I just couldn’t place it. William continued to walk in and out of our living room passing through the kitchen each time. Not really a problem, but we were

Reconnaissance: active seeking to determine a foe's intentions by collecting and gathering information about an enemy's composition and capabilities along with pertinent environmental conditions, via direct observation, usually by scouts or military intelligence soldiers especially trained in critical surveillance. I found a Hot Wheels car at the bottom of my toilet, a pacifier in the fish tank, the frosting licked off of 3 cupcakes that were sitting on the kitchen counter and dinosaur stickers plastered all over the face of the oven door. None of these items were in any of those places prior to my getting in the shower this morning. Granted, my shower may have gone 5minutes longer than the usual 4minutes total time; but seriously? Since the eldest punk was still peacefully sleeping, my keen senses of process of elimination lead me to blame the youngest punk. I left him lying peacefully on my big bed watching The Dinosaur Train, trusting that he would stay put in that same

I was starting to feel just a wee bit slighted that my sisters always seem to happen upon a penny...which has been PROVEN to be a sign from our dad that he is looking down on us and protecting and all that jazz...and I hardly ever get one. A Penny sighting. I have had one instance in the last year where I asked for a sign already as to some life crap and lo and behold there was one. In the public restroom. Hmmm, what DOES that mean. LOL Anyway, I asked him (dad) what's up with that? My wallet is a clasp wallet that I do not keep money in at all...no room. Just credit cards and checkbook. I keep money (usually just spare change) in a seperate coin purse thingy. So tonight at the grocery store...opened my special clasp wallet to pullout the 'ol debit card at the checkout counter and wouldn't you know it...not just one but THREE pennies fall out! Ok Dad...I get it. Ask and you shall receive! Guess this means you are good for sending pennies to me for a while. Thanks!

The following interaction played out one random weekday afternoon. Names have been changed to protect… to protect… who am I kidding, I protect only my punks and they don’t know any proper names of their school mates mamas! As I hop outta my sleek, all black SUV and head up the driveway of daycare mama’s house, “Hi, have a good night” she-devil girl’s mama! No I did not refer to her as that…OUTLOUD. I used my inside voice, it is best that way. Really. She-devil girl’s mama replies, somewhat chuckling, “I feel badly for daycare mama—she has a migraine and your son is in there screeching at a high pitch cry about not getting something he wants”. And with that, she walks away. I walk into the house and sure enough, punk #1 is in tears and making full use of his lung capacity. I calm him down and apologize to daycare mama, it is indeed apparent that she is in some head pain. She dismisses the apology…”it’s all good” she says. We leave, the punks and I. But we do not leave with our head

I walked into daycare one “on the verge of rain” evening to pick up the punks. After all the congenial formalities of “How was your day? Did they poop? Did they nap? How long? or Why not?”, I wrangled these two rambunctious punks into their coats for the walk to the car and ride home. Now, if any of you could see the efforts made by one end of workday mama just to get her precious little packages into their jackets; you would undoubtedly understand that normally basic task really is no easy feat. I wrangled them up and pulled each of their hoods over their heads making mention that “it is raining, cover up”. Both have been on the verge of a cold and any efforts made to discourage illness are welcomed by this mama. In doing so, another mommy snickers a bit and says to me, “we live in Oregon”. Now, on most days I choose to ignore the sideline comments, especially from this particular mommy. Don’t get me wrong, she seems nice enough—God loving, charity working, deeply prayerful and always