people of craigslist

Over the years, Matt and I have collected a number of small kitchen appliances that we never use. A few weeks ago, as Matt noticed the stack of unopened, still in their original packaging appliances taking up valuable real estate on the garage shelves, he suggested that we try selling them on Craigslist. I personally find selling things on Craigslist to be a huge pain, but since he was willing to head up the effort, I agreed. Less boxes and more cash is always a good thing, right?

In theory.

Unfortunately, selling things on Craigslist means you have to come into contact with people who are shopping on Craigslist. I'm sure that 98% of the folks shopping on Craigslist are completely normal, sane folks just looking for a deal. I mean, I shop on Craigslist. I'm not crazy. You shop on Craigslist. You're normal, too. But that 2%?? THEY ALL WANT MY APPLIANCES. (I promise that what we're selling is nothing weird. Totally normal, boring, unexciting things that you could easily purchase anywhere. Just...things we don't personally use or need to own.)

When I think of 'crazy Craigslist people,' my mind immediately jumps to serial killers or people looking to meet single girls in a dark alley to sell a lamp or something. And this particular Craigslist go-round hasn't disappointed in that regard.

Meet Reggie.

Reggie wants to buy my $15 appliance. Unlike the 5 annoying people before him, he doesn't even want to haggle over the price. But he really really wants us to meet up. He sent a series of emails throughout the weekend ('is it still available?' 'when can we meet up?' 'hello??') which I patiently tried to answer. With all of the appliances, I clearly stated in the ads that we live in ______ (small town outside of Athens) and work in downtown Athens. Therefore we could meet in either town (or somewhere in between) depending on the time of day. So this guy really really wants to buy the appliance in Athens. Great. Monday, buddy. Monday you can buy it. I'll be in Athens, where I work in a very busy public place and am comfortable walking outside or across the street and meeting a stranger.

At around 11:00 a.m., Reggie texts me. Can u meet me now? Sure, fine. I can walk outside. Where are ya, Reggie? He responds with a residential address. Ummmm....

I Google the address and find it to be a neighborhood in a less-than-savory part of town 10 minutes (drive) away. Sorry, Reggie-- I meant, I thought you were downtown and I could meet you IN PUBLIC in the middle of this workday. Shockingly, I'm not really interested in leaving work and driving to your HOUSE to meet you alone!! He wasn't happy to hear about this. He doesn't have a ride, you see, so I'll really need to make like a delivery girl and bring it on over. Thanks but no thanks. I can live without that $15.

After another long series of pleading texts up until 10pm last night, I finally agreed to meet him (Matt would be with me, obviously) at a gas station near Athens this morning on the way to work. We agreed on 7:45 a.m. Several times.

Guess who never showed up this morning??

YOU ARE DONE, MISTER. GOOD LUCK SURVIVING WITHOUT THAT APPLIANCE!!!! MWAHAHAHAHA.

So that fellow was a sorta stereotypically crazy Craigstlister. Robbi, however, was not.

Robbi was interested in this same appliance several weeks ago (so I guess you already know that this story does not end with a sale). After a few back and forth emails inquiring about the availability and feeling out some potential times, Robbi sends me this.

This was pretty funny to me because the reason no one (who doesn't live there) is familiar with our small town is because IT IS REALLY SMALL. There aren't any 'busy public places.' So I had a chuckle over this request (also, I just found it amusing that a man would be so concerned about meeting strangers from Craigslist, but NOT concerned enough to erase his EXTREMELY DETAILED email signature which informed me about EXACTLY where he worked, including street address and several phone numbers). But I'm all about meeting in a public place too, so really, this isn't an unreasonable request. I responded maturely, naming a relatively public (if tiny and gross) grocery store.

Did you see that?? Robbi was TOO SCARED TO MEET ME IN A PUBLIC PARKING LOT WITHOUT A CHAPERONE!!!! I really felt kind of honored. That's awesome. He could probably sense how much time I spend lifting weights at the gym or something.

So Reggie didn't work out because he was too sketchy. Robbi didn't work out because I was too sketchy.

Meet Ann.

Ann was interested in a different appliance. A much nicer, much more expensive appliance. An appliance I really didn't want to sell, despite the fact that I don't use it. We'd gotten lots of inquiries about this appliance, but everyone wanted to offer like HALF of what we were asking. Um, no. I'm not even entirely sure I want to sell it. I definitely don't want to sell it for a fraction of what it's worth.

Ann inquired about the availability. When I said it was still available, she said she'd bring cash and could meet me downtown, as I requested, that afternoon. She'd text when she got here.

She showed up at the time she said she would. She texted. We found each other. She gave me cash- the exact amount we'd asked for. She was friendly and nice and we even chatted for a few minutes. She was super excited and nearly giddy about buying the appliance. We parted ways.

Ann restored some of my hope in the human race. Normal Craigslist people do exist. They're just buried beneath all the crazy.

The moral of this story is that you should probably just keep letting your unused stuff collecting dust in the garage. Unless it's something Ann needs, in which case you should sell it to her. And also, you should think twice before meeting me in public. I'm super scary. 

...and sometimes, the internet is just wrong.

Awhile back we discussed how the internet can be creepy. It was the targeted ads, you know? How nowadays when you innocently go check out a cute dress on some web page (or want to be nosy and see how much other people pay for whatever item they're fashion-blogging about) and then all of a sudden that same dress/item shows up on EVERY AD YOU SEE on Facebook, Google, blogs, and like...everywhere? Yeah. Those internet robots and their marketing brains...creepy. Effective, I must say...because then I can never stop thinking about whatever it was...but kind of creepy. Creepy smart.

But then sometimes...I don't know what happens, but the internet just gets it WRONG.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I'm not sure where the internet robots are collecting their information, or how they do their analyzing, but someone needs to fix something. The internet has gone awry. 

The robots need to read my blog more carefully. Based on the ads I see, I definitely have to conclude they read my blog. As any self-respecting robot would. That's why all those ads for fitness programs/DVDs, fertility centers, Caribbean vacations, and sales on Cute Summer Dresses!!! are all pretty spot-on. High five, robots. I feel like we could be friends. You get me.

But I'm just not sure why you thought I would be interested in this:

Ummm....really?? Really, robots? 

1. I'm kind of a grammar snob. THERE ARE BLATANT GRAMMATICAL ERRORS IN THIS AD. And you CAPITALIZED the offending word!!! Obviously you don't know me, or you would know that I would never shop somewhere that can't proofread their ads.

2.  These are totally hideous. I can't even...just...no. No, I do not consider lime green peep-toe heels with a bow-tied corset up the heel and a (zombie?) skull on the side to be a 'beautiful heel.' No one on earth does, actually. Most likely even the UNDEAD would scorn these. Because they are that ugly. Period.

3. 'Heels Zombies Wear'???! Are you implying that I am a zombie? I don't even get it. Zombies don't even wear heels. I don't even wear heels! Do you even know anything about zombies? I think not. Don't talk about what you don't know about.

4.  Why would you even show me this ad? Obviously you gleaned that I like the show Walking Dead...and one time I told a funny story about one of my students and zombies...but I think that's about the extent of my zombie blog history. That is not enough to assume one would be interested in those shoes.

In conclusion, those are the ugliest shoes I have ever seen and some robots think I am the kind of person who would actually like to wear them, so basically I'm winning at life and fashion today. The end.

justified, part II

First of all- thanks for all the expert advice, support, and enthusiasm about my bold proclamation yesterday. Ha. I appreciate that you can be so enthusiastic even knowing I'll probably forget all about this in another week or two! But for the time being, your excitement propelled me to do some more 'training' yesterday (Thursday! A day I normally do NOT work out!) and to keep running even when I was sore...so...progress, I'd say. Not sure if I'm going to be happy for the accountability or regret talking about any of this very quickly! Such is the nature of blogging, I suppose. 

So anyway. I need to share another story of justification with you. Please recall my lifelong mortal fear of birds. Something many people like to mock, and nicer people choose to just accept...but surprisingly few people share my fear. So whenever I have a chance, I like to present compelling evidence (such as this) that I AM RIGHT AND JUSTIFIED in my fear, and the rest of you are being foolish.

This happened yesterday:

I kid you not. Bird attack. In my own parking lot. To one of my favorite people.

Here's how it went down.

Diana, who just returned from 10 days in Bali (I know, it's okay to hate her a little), was returning to work from a dentist appointment. I found this out when she sprinted into my office like her clothes were on fire. She was shaking. She was wide-eyed. She was acting surprisingly un-jetlagged. She couldn't get her words straight.

"A BIRD!!!! IN THE PARKING LOT!! A BIRD JUST...ATTACKED ME!!!!" 

You might think I would freak out. That's probably what she was expecting, knowing my track record of Bird Fear. But I did not. Because when the thing you expect happens...well, it's what you expect. It's not surprising. You might be surprised, however, to hear that I immediately correctly guessed WHICH bird it was.

"Was it that bird that lives in the bush in front of my parking spot?"

"YES!"

"Yeah, I figured. That bird is extra scary. I always suspected it would come to this."

True story. Some mornings I have to sit in the car for several extra minutes until the bird and I reach an agreement that I can exit my car, run into the building, and then he can go back to his aggressive patrol of the bush. I hate that bird.

And apparently that bird hates Diana, which is why for no good reason at all he decided to FLY AT HER and PECK HER ARM. I am not kidding. She had peck marks on her cardigan to prove it.

I hate that it happened to Diana, but a tiny part of me loves being proven right. Okay, a huge part of me. I AM RIGHT, DAMMIT! BIRDS ARE EVIL!! I wanted to call everyone who's ever mocked me and tell them. But I hate talking on the phone, so I figured blogging about it would be the more efficient way of getting the news out.

Naturally I told Matt all about it. He pretty much laughed it off, like getting attacked wasn't a traumatizing experience for Diana, or like I was probably exaggerating the whole thing. This morning we found ourselves a new parking spot. I have no need to prove my dominance to that bird. He can have that spot. After we parked, with no birds in sight, I sprinted into my building. As I looked out the door to see Matt walking across the parking lot to cross the street to his office, what do I see? That same evil bird, crossing into Matt's personal No Fly Zone. I saw the fear flash in his eyes as the bird came squawking up next to him. It didn't touch him. But it came close. And through the glass doors I yelled "I TOLD YOU SO!!!!"

I love being right.

EDIT: At approximately 9:00 a.m. my co-worker Katherine arrived at work, parked in The Spot, and was subsequently attacked by the bird. As of approximately 9:03 a.m. we were plotting our Threat Removal Plan, to be implemented immediately.

the internet is creepy

Sometimes it's creepy how stalker-ish the internet is. And I'm not talking about people using the internet. I'm talking about like...programs. Or robots. Or something. Today's example:

The other morning, Mollyanne was in my office and we were talking about a recipe I was giving her. The recipe calls for Heath Bit o' Brickle toffee pieces, and I was trying to explain what they looked like. Obviously pictures are worth thousands of words, so I did a quick Google Image search and showed her what to look for. Great. Done and done.

So explain to me why this morning, the ads on the side of my Facebook are all for Heath Bit o' Brickle baking pieces? Those ads have never been there before. But now they are. And dang they look tasty. Obviously the Google robots chat with the Facebook robots and that there is straight up creepy.

Incidentally, the Heath baking ads are by drugstore.com. Now I love me some drugstore.com. We've discussed that before. But who does their grocery shopping there? That would just be dumb. But maybe the Computer Robots are just smart enough to figure out ALL of my favorite things. "She likes Heath bits? She likes drugstore.com? SHE WILL LOVE BUYING HEATH BITS AT DRUGSTORE.COM!!!" Apparently the robots lack common sense, cause don't NO ONE wanna buy baking bits at drugstore.com. Sorry, robots.

Anyway. One last thing. This is a question of computer/email etiquette. Say you send me a (work-related) email like this:

Hey Erika, I wanted to RSVP for _____ and had a few questions.... and then you asked your questions.

I respond to you: 

Hey Person (except I would use your name, of course), blah blah blah (and I answer your questions). Thanks for touching base, let me know if I can help you with anything else!

And then you respond back:

Perfect, thanks so much! I appreciate your help! or something along those lines.

Here's the question: Should I respond again with a 'you're welcome' or 'no problem' or something? Or is that just annoying? Personally, I would not necessarily want/expect a final one-or-two word response. But would you? Is it polite or annoying? Help a sister out!

misadventures

GAH!!! So far this weekend has been marked by misadventure. Which is a nice way of saying "despite having Friday off for Fall Break, TONS OF SUCKY THINGS HAPPENED and the rest of the weekend BETTER be better."

Lucky for you, I'll be happy to re-tell the tales. (Also lucky for you: none of this involves infertility-- so you don't have to worry about that. Except you can just keep in mind that while all this other bad stuff was going on, I was STILL LIVING WITH INFERTILITY, which makes other bad things worse, wouldn't you agree??? Yes.)

So last night was a birthday celebration for one of our friend's 3oth birthday. It was at a tapas bar downtown, and I'd been looking forward to a) tapas, b) beverages, and c) hanging out with this fun group of friends all week.

So it's Friday night. It's cold and rainy outside. No matter- I decided to wear some super cute/uncomfortable heels that I never wear because...duh, they're impossible to walk in. But the only walking I had to do was from the car to the restaurant, so I figured it was a good time to bust 'em out. So Matt and I make it downtown, and find a really good parking spot right across the street from the restaurant-- score! However, now our stupid town has decided you have to pay for street parking until TEN PM and so we had to track down a parking meter thingy and pay up. It just so happens that there was an old man that beat us to the meter by about 30 seconds, and wouldn't you just know...he was having trouble figuring out how to use it. (Note: I don't blame him- they're brand new, completely electronic, and rather confusing even if you're semi-techno-savvy...which he wasn't). After staring at it for five minutes (IN THE POURING RAIN), he finally asked Matt to help him. Matt was happy to oblige, so then they stood there together staring at it confusedly for another 10 minutes in the rain. At this point, I decided I was tired of being cold and wet and told Matt I was going to walk to the restaurant. As it happens, even though the restaurant was right across the street, I had to walk down the block, wait for a crosswalk, cross that street, then wait for another crosswalk thing to cross another street before I could walk to the restaurant. Not normally a big deal- except that it was rainy and my shoe choice was less-than-ideal for such conditions.

So I walk to the first crosswalk to wait for a white "walk" signal. I happened to be waiting right next to the Arches (UGA landmark), where some local protesters are taking part in Occupying something. Currently they seemed to be enjoying occupying their tent, which was smart in that weather. I made sure not to make any eye contact, because I have zero interest in politics EVER, especially in the cold rain...and I didn't want to get into a conversation. As I am waiting for my signal, suddenly a very tall, unintelligible man walks over and stands THISCLOSE to me. I grab my purse reflexively and take a nice big sidestep, as I turn to give him a face that lets him know I do NOT appreciate him intruding my personal space. Does he get the hint? NO, instead he starts to TALK to me, as he continues creeping closer to me/me sidestep/him creep closer. He's all don't be so scared, honey! I just want to talk to you! Where are you going? You sure look good in those shoes, honey. I liiiiike them. Can I walk you to wherever you're going? You meeting someone? I am CURSING myself for thinking it would be okay to walk 200 yards to a restaurant at night in downtown Athens by myself, and also cursing Matt for STILL BEING ABSORBED WITH HELPING AN OLD MAN while his old lady gets mugged 20 yards away from him. I tell the man several times that no, I would NOT like him to walk me anywhere, that my HUSBAND is right there and coming over to walk with me, and Mr. Mugger does NOT get the clue. I was seriously about to just run into traffic because I would rather get ran over by a car than be accosted by a drunk homeless guy. Also: NOTE TO YOU OCCUPY PEOPLE. It might be nice to say, prevent crime that about to happen like 8 feet away from your tent. I would probably even listen to whatever it is you're upset about if you would like GET THIS DUDE AWAY FROM ME.

Anyway, I finally got my magic "walk" signal and tripped and slipped across Broad St as fast as my little red heels would let me, PRAYING creepy guy wasn't following me. He didn't. I made it to the restaurant, and when I told the hostess I was with the birthday party group, she was like..."there's no group here, but you can look around..." UGH! I should have been about 15 min late at this point, so I couldn't believe NO ONE would be there yet. I opted to wait in the lobby (instead of the table she started setting up for us, or the bar) for Matt and/or the other people to get there. Matt arrived soon, and (I was still shaking from my encounter) I basically bit his head off for letting me get raped (ok, almost) 20 yards away from him...does he even LOVE me?? OK I was totally a witch. But I was SO upset from that guy...and also that there was NO ONE in the restaurant!! So we wait for like 10 min, then I finally text the bday girl and find out I'M AT THE WRONG RESTAURANT. For REAL. I have no idea how I got it in my head we were supposed to be at this one.

So now we have to LEAVE this restaurant, walk through the rain BACK to the car (which we have already paid for parking), drive across downtown (because I can't WALK BECAUSE OF MY SHOES), pay for parking AGAIN, and then walk to the restaurant. I was only about one one-thousandth of a second away from having a breakdown at this point.

Luckily, as soon as I sat down, a drink menu was placed in front of me, and moments later THIS appeared:

Helllllooooo Latin Affair!!! You delightful concoction that taste of sunscreen and summer days! Come to mommy!

Everyone at the table (and apparently the bartenders as well) mocked my delicious, Smurf-esque drink...but I didn't care, because I had just overcome an hour of horribleness and I DESERVED this liquid beach-vacation. It was wonderful.

And then the night got way better, because I got to hang out with some wonderful friends and have some good conversation and delicious tapas and, ya know, the Latin Affair.

My friend Jessie recently downgraded her iPhone and is back to a Really Awesome Dinosaur Phone (like me)...but she can apparently somehow still access the internetz on it...so she proved herself to be my Best Blog-Fan by finding my BLOG on her phone (which took no less than 21849 steps and 15 minutes)...it was REALLY funny because it loads about 3 words at a time (and I'm very wordy)...it was kind of like the worlds longest text message. But she said it would be worth it, just to keep up with my blog. That's the kind of friends I like. :) 

Look how dedicated she is!! It warmed my heart. As did our conversation and general shenanigans that night.

So despite the trouble it was to GET to the party, the party itself was wonderful. Good friends, good times.

We made it home without incident, and it seemed as though our Downtown Drama would be a mere blip on the radar of an otherwise good night. But NOT SO FAST, Erika!!! Matt was already in bed, and I was climbing in, when we suddenly heard a very strange and LOUD noise coming from our closet (which is through our bathroom). What the heck??? We both wondered. I'd just left the closet after changing...all was normal!

I walked through the bathroom and opened the closet door...except I couldn't. It was blocked, somehow. I couldn't push it. I shoved really hard, and finally got it open enough to reach my hand in and turn on the light. And then I saw the problem.

Our shelving unit?? The one that has been in there (I assume) since the house was built...the white wire shelves/hanging bars/etc...well, it had just decided to DETACH ITSELF FROM THE WALL. Which means come off the wall, toppling over along with all of the clothes and shoes hanging on it, and all the shelves above it. And this is on the LONG wall of the closet (the closet is a rectangle...the 2 short sides/shelving units were fine. This was the long one...the biggest one...the one holding the most stuff).

AWESOME. This night is AWESOME!!!

You know the funny part?? Matt, after looking in and seeing what happened and saying "wow, I wonder why it did that?? Man, this sucks" and stuff like that...he CLOSES THE DOOR and gets back in bed!!!! HAHAHAHAHA. MEN!

I was like...in my really calm, "you are about to die if you don't get out of bed" voice, say "um, Matt?? We can't just LEAVE IT like that, because then we will have to WASH AND IRON EVERYTHING THAT IS CURRENTLY BEING CRUSHED BY THE SHELVES. Of course, he heartily agreed, so we spent the next hour carefully carrying everything out of the closet and piling it on the bed in the guest room or in the closet (which has NO ROOM for anything to hang, which meant we had to move boxes of Christmas decor and such out of the way....AWESOME NIGHT).

Matt tried to snap a few pictures, but because at this point we couldn't open the door more than a foot, couldn't really get a good angle:

Those sweaters used to be on top of the shelves...I'd already rescued them and stacked them on the tupperware drawers.

We managed to get all of the broken shelves out and make semi-order of the situation. 
 

 See that big white wall (with holes Matt patched this morning)? There used to be ALL MY CLOTHES on that wall.


Here's one of the (still intact) 'short' sides of the closet. This is sort of what the long side used to look like, only 3 times as long and it had additional shelves on top of the rack.

And here's the state of our previously-orderly guest room, now holding the entire contents of the Fallen Closet Rack.
 

OK-- so sorry if this is the most boring blog ever. Just wanted to record how RIDICULOUS last night was, in case I ever start thinking my life is super awesome or anything. Then I can look back and be like "FOR REAL??? Remember October 28th?? That was NOT COOL."

If today is not significantly better, I am for real moving to the Middle East. I am so done with stupid Athens and it's stupid muggers and stupid parking and stupid closets!!

i guess it's kind-of a big day

But probably not for the reasons you're thinking.

What were you thinking, anyway? I won the lottery? Finally fit into my high school jeans? I found out I actually do have an identical twin I was separated at birth from? (I know, the grammar in that last sentence is abysmal.) (And yes, I really did dream about that happening for oh...the first 25 13 or so years of my life.) Truly, the options are endless here.

But as it turns out, July 11th is actually a pretty important day in our house!

#1: It is the two-year anniversary of living in our house! Happy Anniversary, House!
#2: It is the three-year anniversary of Lola's birth! Happy Birthday, Lola!!
#3: It is the four-year anniversary of Matt working for the bank! Happy...Something, Matt!

Anniversaries #1 & #3 didn't merit any sort of special celebrations. #2 was celebrated by extra pets, cuddles, and playing. And an extra-long walk with Mommy, during which Lola personally celebrated by presenting me with two extra-nasty gifts. Thanks, I think.

But don't be fooled by our lack of celebrating here. We've had plenty of fun things going on. For example: last weekend. The whole thing was like one crazy whirlwind of a memory, but luckily I have lots of pictures to help me remember what-all happened.

So about two months ago, my cousin Rachael decided to off and elope. I know, right?? How dare she not provide me with another wedding to attend! It's okay though, I really like their story and their reasons, so I will extend forgiveness this time. At least they had the decency to plan a little reception, which happened to be this past Saturday. Since I never miss an opportunity to eat wedding food/cake, this meant that I needed to travel to Northern Tennessee on Saturday. Thoughts on Northern Tennessee: Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas (or Georgia) anymore. And I thought I lived in the sticks. I pity the person who has to drive an hour and a half to get to Target (oh wait-- my sister-and-brother-in-law in Vermont have this same horrible situation!!! Who are you people?!?!!)...I'm not sure that kind of life is worth living. But more power to those of you who do/can! Anyway, I've digressed. So on Saturday morning, Matt and I piled in with my mom and dad to journey up North. It was a fun adventure which culminated in reaching the reception and eating cheese balls. Oh yeah, and seeing Rach and her new husband!!

I would post a picture from the reception here, but the only pictures I've seen that have me in them show me stuffing my face. And while that would, actually, be a pretty accurate reflection of what happened...please, I want yall to think more of me than that. So I won't show pics. What I will show, though, is what happened AFTER the reception.

We went back to Rachael and Ryan's house to eat more cheeseball relax and chat for a little while afterwards. And it just so happens that R&R (hahaha) have a four-wheeler!! Now I'm going to make a confession here: I've never been four-wheeling ('quadding' if you're from...wherever they say that...I heard it on RHofNJ). I know, I feel like a failed Southerner for admitting that. I'm not sure how I fell through the cracks on that one: my brother and sister are both adept four-wheelers. I've just never done it. But no longer!!! Because Rachael made sure to help me cross that one off my bucket list.

And sorry, but the angle + my choice of clothing + being hunched over/holding on for dear life even though we were parked + the cheeseballs = an extremely unflattering picture of me, so I had to do a little editing. In case you hadn't noticed. I realize it's very subtle.

So Rachael took me on probably the slowest, easiest, toddler-friendly four-wheeler ride known to man, and I was terrified the entire time and had multiple graphic visions of how we were probably going to die. Suffice it to say, I am not really jonesing for a four-wheeler right now. But I'm glad I did it. And I'm glad I did it with Rachael. Anyone other than my BFF cousin would probably have just dropped me off on the side of the road and left me to die in the wilderness after hearing how wimpy I was.

After leaving R&R's house, we traveled about 3 more hours away to our family cabin in Gatlinburg, TN...in the more south-er, east-er region of Tennessee (not that geography is my strong suit...this is just a guess, really)...where there are a lot more stores and a lot less...I dunno...Deliverance music playing in the background? Hahhaaha. We got in late and crashed. The next morning we ate at our favorite pancake house (because where else is there to eat in Gatlinburg??) and hit the road for a leisurely drive back to civilization Athens. On the way, we stopped for some awesome mountain-creek-exploring.

 There were some precarious moments climbing on the rocks, but we managed to not get any wetter than we'd planned!

 Dad, Mom, and me. Please note that we are standing on different levels of rocks and that I am not that giant.

 Matt got pretty excited as he searched for rocks suitable for 'hot stone massages.' And yes, immediately upon arriving home he has been researching how to do proper hot stone massages. Guess who his guinea pig is gonna be? This is definitely his best hobby yet!

 The water was freezing!! As my mom pointed out several times, "It made your toes turn blue!" Hardee har har, Mom.

We also stopped at a flea market somewhere in North Carolina. I got an awesome set of plates. They're all in the dishwasher right now, but I will take a picture and show off soon.

Upon finally arriving home (all of the stops and excursions turned a 3 hour trip into like...all day), we had lots of unpacking and cleaning and readying-for-the-week to do. But we ALSO had to...drumroll, please...

Make some exciting arrangements for our upcoming VACATION!!!!

And here's where I'm going to be all secretive and stuff and not give any good details. Not because I don't want to, but because of the stalkers** and stuff. Sorry stalkers. You'll never find out when or where!! Mwah ha ha. But our preparations last night did involve buying plane tickets, something I haven't done in a long time, and now I am very excited/anxious about figuring out how I'm going to pack all of my belongings in TWO silly little carry-on bags. Any advice? Also, anyone have a Kindle and/or iPad and/or anything small and fun to keep me entertained on the journey that you want to loan me?

 Well, I think this blog has grown to epic lengths, so I'm going to release you now to go back to whatever you were doing before I started talking your ear off. But remember how it's Lola's birthday?? I feel like I'd be remiss if I didn't show off just one last picture: my baby on the day we brought her home.

So cute I could die. Happy Monday!!

**To clarify, I am talking about scary stalkers. The kind that want to rob your house when you're away on vacation, or steal your identity or something. I'm not referring to blog stalkers, who are always welcome here.

the people have spoken

So, I really love that people actually 'voted' on what topics I should blog about. It makes my world feel just a teensy bit more democratic, and I also love being a people-pleaser, so it makes my heart happy to write about the things yall wanna hear about. Luckily for me, all 4 topics got voted for, so I don't have to edit out any of my mental blogs. :) I'm going to go ahead and talk about the 2 that are quickest and easiest...requiring no uploading of pictures or reviewing of technical computer mumbo-jumbo. So without further adu, I present you with

Funny Things Kids Have Said Lately

1. I'm sitting at a table with some "friends" (my students that aren't completely obnoxious are elevated to 'friend' status). They're working on writing their first and last names. One friend, Enya*, who provides me with no shortage of entertainment, really surprised me by writing her middle name as well, with no help...and it just so happens that we share the same middle name! So we're bonding over Renee, and my friend Teagan*, a particularly smart little whippersnapper, doesn't want to be left out. "I know my middle name," he exclaims. "It's Darrell (pronounced duh-RELL)! Teagan Darrell Smith!" He looks pretty proud of himself. "Darrell, huh? I like that name, Teagan!"I tell him. "It's my daddy's name too! His name is...Daddy Darrell Smith!" I fall on the floor laughing. Teagan has a really confused look on his face. You laughin' at me? "Daddy Darrell Smith, eh Teagan? I'll be sure to address him properly next time we meet."

*names changed to protect my friends

2. Now this one may make you laugh, or it may make you feel slightly saddened. Either way, it amused me. I wish you knew my kids. They're so completely unlike you and me and all the other kids you know...and they're awesome. Anyway, this particular child is from, comparatively speaking, a fairly intact and supportive family. Definitely not as sketch as some of my other kids' home situations are. But apparently he watches too much TV or something...

I'm at the table with the kids, and we're discussing the previous day's Literacy Fair and who saw whom there. Bobby* was there and had come to visit with me, so I pointed this out. "Bobby, I saw YOU there yesterday! I gave you a popsicle!!"

He looks at me with a devilish twinkle in his eyes (and he is a CUTE, tiny little thing).

"I saw you in your room!" he informs the table.

"In my room?! No, you saw me on the field outside!" I correct him.

"No!! I saw you cause I was naked driving in my truck!"

What?? The other kids are hootin' and hollerin. "WHAT?? You were naked in your truck?" is my mature, teacherly response.

He grins, then shakes his head. "But then I put my clothes on. I not naked anymore."

He then quickly sketches a picture of me in a window (stick person inside a box) and him in a car next to the window (stick person in a blob with circle wheels).

Then he draws 2 stick people (heads, arms, legs...no facial features or hair for either person). "That's me and that's you. You're bald."

He finishes by drawing two more stick people who are clearly holding hands (their arms end, touching each other in a big blob). Again, neither person has hair. "Who's that?" I ask. "It's me and you. You look like a man. I draw you a mustache." (He does).

I could go on (not with that story, sadly, but with others) but I'll save it for another day. Must move on to Voted Upon Topic #2.

The Pioneer Woman
A 'friend'-- and this time, by 'friend' I mean someone whom I've been blogstalking for years but have never met in person (or even left a comment...eeek, bad me)-- introduced me to this one. And she warned me, too. I believe her post on the topic was something like "Do not, under any circumstances, go to this web page. Just don't!! And if you do, then by all means do NOT start reading "Black Heels to Tractor Wheels"! I am warning you!! Unless you have NO LIFE and hundreds of empty hours to fill...just don't click the link!!" So I can't say I wasn't warned, and neither can you, because I feel the same way she did. DON'T DO IT. But in case you're wondering where I am...well, you can find me here. Because I'm completely and totally in love with Ree (the Pioneer Woman herself) and her story and her life and her kids and her pictures and her STORIES and her recipes and her STORIES and her humor and her pictures and her writing and her giveaways and her STORIES. And did I mention she's a good storyteller and a fabulous writer? Well, consider yourselves warned. And yes, it was completely intentional that I didn't mention her webpage/blog until Thursday night. I didn't want to be responsible for all of yall being completely irresponsible all week long. But if you have some time on your hands this weekend (and I mean time)...maybe you might like stopping by. And starting the Black Heels saga in Chapter 1. I mean, if you want to.

Well, we can cross those two topics off the List of Things to Blog About. Now I must dash off to Dave Ramsey's Town Hall for Hope meeting. I'm all about some hope, and I've forgiven Dave Ramsey, so we're good to go.

san antonio, are you with me?

This is a spur-of-the-moment, early morning blog, but the question must be asked:

Who the heck in San Antonio is obsessed with me?

I mean, seriously. Via the magic that is Google Analytics (swear I'll blog more on that one later, Katy and Mollyanne), I can see that yesterday I had thirty-four distinct visitors from San Antonio. And they spent some time here, too. Funny story: I don't know anyone in San Antonio. Much less 34 people. And while I blogstalk with the best of them, it's hard to imagine that 34 people from SA just happened to fall on my blog yesterday-- via DIRECT ENTRY, which means they typed my blog address directly into their browser, or they have my page bookmarked.

Factoid: My insurance company/bank is located in San Antonio.

Anyone else getting creeped out? Now, I can also see that my site has been discovered twice (once a few weeks ago, once 2 days ago) by people googling "USAA" (that bank). I googled it myself to see how exactly my site showed up there. It's on like, page 9 of results or something. You'd have to be a pretty hardcore stalker to find me that way. And then share my blog with all your friends?? I dunno...maybe it's a far stretch, but seriously. I'm just trying to make sense of the numbers here.

Anyone from San Antone (love the city, by the way) want to fess up by leaving a comment? Any of my other friends have any other theories they can offer?