Mrs. CPA

Sports Night

At some point I became delusional and thought I could play sports with all the other coordinated kids.  I was wrong.  I distinctly remember swinging a bat and spinning around, and listening to people chuckle in the stands.  I guess I did it because everyone else was.  Peer pressure so young? Hell yeah.  Look at my poor teeth.  I just wanted someone to like me.

Exhibit one:

It was all about the colored ribbons to tie up the shirt.  Because it was so hooooooootttttttt.  I have no freakin' clue who TDR is.  It may be the margaritas.  It may be old age.  It is probably fumes from too many grosgrain ribbons so close to my face.  And yes that is a leftover mullett.  I believe you may be able to see my tie -died socks.   Don't be a player hater because I was so cool.

Exhibit two:

Dog Tags are the predominate feature here.  They may have been my boyfriend's. You know the one you looked through the fence at during recess?  That one.  Did you have those (dog tags, not an 8 year old boyfriend)?   Look at those poor Kevas beaten within an inch of their lives.  THEY HAD SNAP IN TRIANGLES IN DIFFERENT COLORS that were a bitch to change.  But there were two sets of shoe laces.  I was so cool.  And the tight rolled pants.  I was rockin' it. Hard.

Exhibit three:

Ah, finally the braces.  And the perm.  I think there are some visible slip-on Keds.  Very obvious I was not hard core with cleats.  Rolled up white shorts.  WHO THE HELL WEARS WHITE SHORTS TO PLAY SOFT BALL?  Apparently me.

Exhibit I've lost count becuase I've had three drinks, which I can apparently count drinks just not pictures:

This was my brief foray into cheer leading.  As you can see I was on the green team.  We sucked major ass.  All the cool kids were on the Red team.  I don't think the green team won one game the whole season.  It wasn't for lack of trying though.  Or lack of cheering.  Or lack of cheer leading coaching by our cheer leading sponsor, who wore house shoes with the heels broken down to all the games. It was pure class.  Sort of like my hair.

Tomorrow - transformation into the quiz bowl team winner and valedictorian.  Instant turn-around - and who would have guessed with my stunning mullet and athletic skilzs.

Keeping the Tradition Alive

Mr. Cheeks got his first accident report from school today.  He managed to get by the door when someone was coming in and got his fingers smushed.  Ice was applied along with a liberal dose of TLC, and he survived.  With a mother who had three broken arms, ER visits too numerous to count, a ride in an ambulance after a snowcone drenched car wreck, skinned knees from a gas pump, a grandmother who droped a bag of frozen hot tamales on her foot and almost broke it, a grandfather who fell into an empty swimming pool and shattered his foot, who also broke his ankle skiing and continued the rest of the day on the slopes,  Mr. Cheeks is in for a bumpy ride. 

Maybe I can get Miss Zoot's hand me down protecto-suit after NikkiZ is finished with it?   

Happy Birthday

You, little boy, have been a light in my life for five years.  When you lived with us, it was some of the best times I have ever had.  I hope that my son grows up to have as sweet of a heart as you do.  You are so precious to me and your Uncle TP.  Even though we live far away, I hope you know how much we love you. 

(He calls Mr. Cheeks his "brofver."  Don't you think they look alike?)

Only Two More Days

NaBloPoMo is over in two days.  As much as I like blogging, a post every day has sometimes been hard.  Tonight, my head feels like the asteroid on Armegedon.  Without the benifit of Bruce Willis and Ben Afleck. 

So here are some pictures from my trip. 

This is what you get when you let a five year old run off with your camera.  Pictures of piles  leaves. 

This is Walnut Lake, the bayou that was right across the street from where I grew up.  In the summertime it's down to a trickle, due to its use as an irrigation source.  We used to see people sitting on five gallon buckets fishing in it.  I would be surprised if any actual fish were ever pulled out of here.  If there was a fish, it probably had 4 eyes and 2 tails from all the farm chemicals.   

Mr. Cheeks playing with some 1970's toys that my Nan still has.

And here he is trying a Banana Popsicle.

That's about all the coherent sentences I can string togethter right now.  Tune in tomorrow for more words, possibly ones that make sense.  No guarantees though. 

Stop , Wait, Don't Go!

So I'm laying on the couch in my normal Monday night TP is out playing pool and I'm watching TV after I have put Mr. Cheeks into the fiery pit of hell that is his bed tradition, coming out of my stupor only long enough to push the fast forward button on the Tivo remote, through the commercials of Heroes and Studio 60.  When what to my wandering ears do hear but a knock at my door, and twelve thundering paws going straight for the surprise victim visitor.  I drag myself off the couch, thinking "Does Publishers Clearing House come after nine?" and "If this is a Jehovah's Witness and they wake my kid up, I'll find a place to stuff those pamphlets." and "I totally look like a mom in my new, gray, waffle weave, heart patterned pajamas."  Who do you think was at the door? 

It was Pizza Hut calling, and the messenger was a very large black man, who looked suspiciously like the man on the errant rookie football card that my father mysteriously had included in with his nativity figures that I unpacked last night.  Maybe the baby Jesus likes Walter White?  As I shook my head in disbelief that Pizza Hut has finally allowed my to order my pizza telepathically - that "one number ordering" business does not work - the delivery guy took my slack jawed drooling as a denial that the order was mine.  I fought the dogs off the door, and he turned away to walk down the steps back to his shiny red Camaro, I wanted to tell him to wait, that I was sorry someone pranked him, how much is that pizza, will you give me a I didn't order that discount and I have four dollars in cash that I will give you as a tip for just navigating the steps up from the street. 

But he just kept walking back to his car, with a "sorry to have bothered you," where I presume he called the Pizza Hut mothership and clarified the address he was taking his cheesy goodness to.  A few minutes later, he was walking back to his car, empty pizza heat retaining bag hanging at his side, a satisfied smile on his face that he had fulfilled his destiny and delivered someone's dinner.

I don't even like Pizza Hut pizza.  But their breadsticks are awesome.   

Thanksgiving by Numbers

.4287 - seconds it took after we got home to make a mess and destroy all of the cleaning the TP did while we were gone.  The sink is full of bottles, bowls, and the washer has run non-stop

.75 - gallons of margarita I imbibed during the week

1 - number of penis emblazoned stop signs that I had to drive past with my MIL and her husband in the car

2 - number of skinned up knees I have since I tried to step over the hose that runs from the pump to the gas nozzle, and being my typical self, tripped

1- number of "bubbas" who tore their eyes away from the race car they were checking out like it was a rolling pile of money to ask me if I was ok

95 - Number of times I have hit those knees on something very hurty since I fell on Sunday night

12 - pounds of smoked turkey that my cousin Chris had for Thanksgiving dinner at his house

67 - pounds of Great Dane also in residence at cousin's house

27 - Number of hours I spent driving, including going the wrong way to Chuck E Cheese's for my nephews' birthday party, missing my exit outside of Memphis, trips to Best Buy, and a jaunt off the highway to a Walgreen's with a liquor store attached

1- number of sugar free banana popsicles Mr. Cheeks tried

32 - minutes spent waiting at McGehee Family clinic so the nurse practitioner could see Mr. Cheeks for another ear infection

12 - minutes spent waiting at Kelley Drug for his prescriptions to be filled, approximately one tenth of the time spent for similar drugs at my local CVS, also Kelley Drug actually HAD what I needed and didn't have to "order it," and it "be in on Monday."  And Mr. James gave me a good syringe

19 - dollars the medicine cost since they took my out-of-state prescription card 

4 - number of minutes spent sitting at a table and visiting with my third grade teacher at the drug store

3 - number of chicken salad sandwiches with a side of German potato salad from Kelley Drug I ate.  One for breakfast on Thursday, one for supper, and one for Brunch on Friday

41 - number of times my MIL said "Wowiee Kazoiee!!"

40 - number of times I wanted to kick her after she said "Wowiee Kazoiee!"

3 - Number of gallons of water on the floor after I tried to bathe in the death trap my in-laws call "a shower"

200 - number of tickets I won at Chuck E Cheese's after I kicked the ass of the egg drop game and managed to get 7 ping pong balls, pooped out by a pterodactyl, to land in a caveman's hollowed out head

0 - number of naps I got to take the ENTIRE freakin' time I was gone

8,687 - number of times Mr. Cheeks was poked, prodded, squeezed, pinched, hugged, kissed, and loved on

7,125 - number of times those activities were carried out by someone other than myself

68 - number of times my dad's roommate laughed loudly while Mr. Cheeks was trying to sleep and we were sitting less than 2 feet from him on the couch.  HUH HUH HUH!!

6 - number of homemade hot tamales my dad sent home with me.  And no, I'm not sharing.  And yes, they are good

 

4 - number of items left at my dad's house, including that good medicine syringe, a blue block, a receiving blanket I used as a changing pad, and a baggie of tylenol my Nan packed for me to help my knees

154 - number of minutes spent talking to TP on the phone. 

65 - number of those minutes spent bitching about the people I was visiting

5 - number of pairs of underwear I brought

6 - number of days I was gone

1- number of loads of laundry I had to do because of my poor lingerie counting skills

124 - number of pounds of stuff I was hauling around in the back of my gas guzzling SUV

15 - number of separate bags all of that junk was stuffed into

59 - number of new things Mr. Cheeks learned while we were gone

10,976,354 - number of times I wished I was at home, or TP was with us to see all his family

Infinity - number of times I have thought how lucky I am to have such a great kid, a family to even go and visit, a husband to stay at home with the dogs so I can take a weeklong trip, and the ability to do so

I hope everyone had a great Turkey Day!  Do I really have to go back to work tomorrow?

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggy-Jig

We are back.  In my own house.  With my own bed.  And my own shower.  And my own food.  And my own dogs.  And, well, you get the picture.  I'm going to play with my family, and I'll be back tomorrow with a full report. 

Antlers

We're almost ready to come home guys (I'm sure I was ready after Tuesday, but now I'm really ready).  And it's the official start of the Christmas season! 

If you're out shopping, you are insane. 

The One Where I was a Royal Bitch

One Thanksgiving long, long ago...

My parents invited some friends of ours for Thanksgiving dinner, it was a girl, Carrie, that we had met on choir tour, and her parents.  I was in college and TP and I were already dating, and he had come from Birmingham for the holiday.  My friend Breta and I had stayed out half the night, drinking and goofing off, and we were in the middle of our Thanksgiving nap when the guests arrived.  John Davis came in to try and wake us up, and we were grouchy.  I acted like a spoiled brat and stomped around and was rude and ugly and basically a bitch.

Loading and unloading the dishwasher is akin to prison torture to me, and since I had acted like a 5 year old, and to get me out of the general population of the house, my mother banished me to the kitchen to clean up the Thanksgiving carnage.  I was so pissed about the whole thing, I dumped EVERYTHING in the trash or down the garbage disposal.  TP could hear me in there banging around and came to see what was going on.  He started laughing when he saw what I was doing.  He knew that I was making sure that I NEVER had to do the dishes again.  The dishwasher was loaded and started and I felt much better.   There was not one green bean, not one hashbrown, not one deviled egg left.  I think I may have save the slices of turkey that were already cut, but I threw the rest away. 

That night, my Mom went in and opened the refrigerator, looking for a snack. 
"Where's all the leftovers?" she asked. 

"I threw them away."

*heavy sigh*

I never got asked to do the dishes again.

Yep, he's a Man

And he's mobile. Lock up your daughters, he's coming for them.  Especially if they have a remote contol.