The Backyard Money Machine

Now, I know I've blogged along this line before... if not here, in the blogosphere, then a million times somewhere in my sub-conscious.

But friends, let me tell you. I live with Curious George. A living, breathing, little octo-monkey who burns calories and energy at a rate that could light up the great state of Texas. His appearance would shock you, as he is not small and furry; but rather, a smooth, sweet skinned little boy with mischievous blue eyes, plump little cheeks, and a winning little smile and laugh that can both endear and drive one batty. He never MEANS to get in trouble.... it's just that everything is just so DARN INTRIGUING. Forget toys- they hold little to no interest for him, usually. He's much more enamoured with the the little things in life. For instance- his day would not be complete if he did not stop every five steps on the way to Mason's bus stop, to look at a rock, or oooh- a flower, or even better, an empty soda bottle that litters the alley. PURELY AMAZING- and it turns our walk past six houses into a 10 minute ordeal. And the idea, of washing your hands in the sink- why, that's just amazing, too, and no hand-washing is complete without looking underneath the sink to see exactly where all that water disappears too.

Imagine my consternation today, as I had quite the dreaded explanation to present to Martin. While I was on the phone with the swim instructor- I heard Coen go into the backyard. That was not a big deal, as it's free reign, properly secure, and open territory to them. However, upon hanging up, and writing the swim dates on my calendar, I heard the door slam, and little feet padding across the tiled floor. He grabbed my hand, and was blabbering in nearly three-year-old gibberish something about the "wind blow" and other words I couldn't decipher. I could tell it was urgent, and so followed him through the kitchen, and to my surprise- to the garage. He pointed to the garage door opener, and told me to open the door. I'm thinking, "Okay, ball went over the fence"..... I follow him into the empty lot next door, still trying to figure out what he's saying. It finally clicks when I see the yellow paper "kicket" (ticket) lying in the dirt. Said "kicket" is a piece of yellow Monopoly money. Dread feels my stomach, and I run, with Coen following back into the house. You see, it's not just any piece of yellow Monopoly money. It is a piece of Monopoly money from a limited edition, collectors STAR WARS Monopoly game. That belongs to Martin. And is very old.

The boys have been admiring it all week, and Martin has tolerated them doing so, allowing them to play at the kitchen table with the tiny ships, tokens, and game pieces. They have been in awe; and now, I know- that given "George's" great idea to give the game a try outside, in the 40 mph Texas wind- my neighbors will be in awe as well.

As I said, I tore around the corner, screaming to Mason to hurry, and help me. It looked like a money machine in the backyard, as we scrambled to gather the precious money, and even more precious, the game cards- Tatooine, Naboo, Curasant......AGGGGHHHHH. I almost threw up thinking about how in the world I would tell Martin.

After checking around the fence, the empty lots, and stepping in a huge pile of mud, I came back inside, and lined up the cards, to see what was missing. So far, I think there is only one card missing. Maybe that one fell out of the box during the move. Yeah, that's it.

Thank goodness, he took the news pretty well. Much better than I would've. Wonder how the man in the yellow hat would handle this one?


***UPDATE: Martin went out to mow the lawn last weekend, and moved the stack of lawn chairs on the back porch. Later he would ask me what I thought he found underneath.... (I'm imagining a rattlesnake, but NO) the TWO missing game cards, and the instructions to the game- weathered and water logged, but legible. Phew.

Blame It On Texas

Today marks the first candle on the cake that is our life in Texas.

Here is what I have learned in the last year.

There are two seasons in Texas. Hot "as blue blazes", as we say in North Carolina, and Cold. Not cold with snow, but cold, maybe with ice.

ergo....

Always dress in layers. Because you never know when you'll enter the Cowboys game in shorts in 80 degree weather, and come out in 35 degree weather 3 hours later. (The same applies over a course of a week).

"C's" are pronounced "QU" as in "Quler" (cooler) or "Quers" (Coors), or "Quers Lhyte" (Coors Light). So you really should put the Quers Lhyte in the Quler.

Accessories make every single outfit. This means the right bag, jewelry or shoes. See Sam Moon for more details. P.S. Don't be afraid of the prints, rhinestones, or the "bedazzler". They add just the rhyte touch.

Per Martin- Traffic sucks. His rush hour can be 45 minutes to an hour an a half.

Football is a big deal. And I mean BIG. Picture 2nd graders in pads; Friday Night Lights- For real, though.

Which leads me too.... the Dallas Cowboys are on the news or the Dallas Morning News front page literally EVERY SINGLE DAY OF THE YEAR. In season, or out. Who's the coach, who's the manager, who they're recruiting, if the fields are wet, if they're dry, if they're building a stadium, if they're selling part of the old one... LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Being a family, is a big deal. The most important deal.

There's plenty to do. We're never bored.

You're either a Texas A&M fan, Texas Tech, Oklahoma, or a UT fan. Pick your colors.

It's not just a big dust bowl. It's pretty, and wow! Look at all the livestock and horses!

I just found out three days ago that we live only about an hour from Oklahoma. Okay, don't laugh because, I knew we were close, just didn't know how close.

You can take the girl out of Carolina, but you can't take the Carolina out of the girl.....

It's a great place for us to live. We're so glad God brought us here. Even if it's hard to hear about all of you getting tons of snow, while we see ice as our only "Winter Storm '09". That's okay, we're headed into 85 degrees again.

----- My disclaimer is that I truly love Texas, and I hope that all of my new Texas friends can forgive my observations (that may chafe a little) in order to see the charm of their state.

In the words of Mark Chesnutt... "Just had to see the sun set out in Frisco..."

Blame it on Texas
Dont blame it on me
I am who I am
And thats what Im gonna be
You can say what you wanna say
About my insanity
Blame it on Texas
Dont blame it on me

Chipmunk Cheeks

My family has been pretty fortunate to avoid most of the winter season sickness junk that has been going around. However, Mason came home from school on Monday with a temperature, and complaining of a sore throat. The school nurse informed us that one of the kids in his class has had strep throat, and I knew we were in for it too, since he rarely complains about stuff like that. Problem was, this all came to a head too late on Monday afternoon to get to the Dr. right away. I knew we'd need to go on Tuesday morning, and they were calling for freezing temperatures and ice. Great. Yesterday turned out to be okay- the ice came later- but I did get him right over to the Dr's office, where they did indeed confirm that he has strep throat, and reminded us all to practice good hand washing, and to try to keep Mason away from everyone else as much as possible.

After a quick mental pat on the back for my Mommy Intuition actually being RIGHT for a change; I developed the twitch that accompanies the idea of being trapped at home with a sick kid and an ice storm on the way. The Dr. sent me on my way with an antibiotic, and happily said, "Let me know if you need anything else!" to which I replied that I would LOVE to have something to keep me from going stir crazy. He just laughed. I think he thought I was joking.

Mason took his role of quarantine very seriously, and was very mindful of heading straight to his bedroom to retire in style with pj's, coloring books, reading books, and a good ol' comfy down throw. I immediately went about the house with my carton of Clorox wipes, sanitizing the Wii controller, all computer keyboards, television remotes, door knobs, light switches and toilet handles- feeling a sense of victory as I wiped away the germs with every stroke.

It was just about dinner time, and I had successfully managed to keep the boys separated, sanitized, and hopefully in a germ-free fly zone. Martin came home from work early, because of the pending ice build up on the roads, and we began to prepare dinner. Suddenly, Mason shouted down that all-to-familiar "Mommmmmeeeee?????......" warning cry- the one that I know means Coen's doing something BAD. I ran up the stairs- and while headed up, Mason explained my worst fear.... "Coen's drinking out of my water bottle."

No. Way. I shrieked, and bounded across the room, snatching the water bottle from his mouth- only to see Coen guiltily look up at me like a chipmunk, with cheeks full of Mason's germy water.

And so, my friends, I'll keep you posted.