memories

I've always had the tendancy to laugh at all the wrong things, and then, because the laughter was inappropriate, it became even more funny, and I would be unable to quit giggling. Why is it that things are funniest when you're not supposed to be laughing?
At my old church, up in Michigan, the choir used to have to sit in the choir loft because there weren't enough seats out in the auditorium. This, of course, is an excellent example of an inappropriate place to be giggling, which means it was obviously the most fun place to goof off. It's pretty bad when the very first Sunday that you're allowed to sit in the loft, you end up getting in trouble. I should probably be ashamed, and embarrassed about my total lack of sobriety, but gosh! some of the most hilarious moments at church were spent up in that choir loft while Pastor Hobbins was preaching!
It was also excellent for scoping out all the guys who were in the auditorium. I perfected the art of keeping my head turned toward the preacher, and rotating my eyes around in order to see the male of my choice. I felt pretty sneaky at the time, but I'm sure I was as obvious as could be.
It wasn't so good for the whole note writing thing though. I thought I could write notes, and look like I was actually taking notes, but that didn't work out so well. There was this one man (doggone him anyway), who would always let me know when I'd been passing notes (like I didn't already know that I'd written a note and passed it to my friend). I don't know how he always knew...I tried to trick him and take notes for real, but he was never fooled. Old fossil.
I'd try and relate an incident to you, my dear readers, but I'm afraid you would find it a bland tale, if not downright boring. And that's the magic of it. At the time, our laughter was almost uncontrollable, due to the total hilarity of the moment...but most of the hilarity (I think) was due to the fact that we weren't supposed to be laughing at all.

Or maybe it was just because I was fifteen years old.

the joys of self-portraits...

Ya gotta love how beautifully we're centered here for the picture.
Look at Alexis' smile, she already loves getting her picture taken...

Boring, fact-filled post--not for the ADD inclined

About a month ago my husband and I decided to refinance our home. Our mortgage payments have been steadily rising, and after careful consideration (and some math), we realized that we'd save several thousand dollars by doing a re-fi.
David worked his magic (I call him 'Mr. Smooth'), secured a great low rate, and was assured that there'd be no pre-payment penalty. So we happily trotted off to the mortgage company to sign all the papers.
About 5 minutes into the paper-signing session, we were informed that the interest rate had been raised, and that if we sold within 3 years we'd have to pay X (X=exorbitant)amount of money. Seeing as we were planning on moving next year, we asked for a moment to discuss things.
When we were finished (we decided to go ahead and sign. We could go home, do the math, and then either cancel, or keep it.), the lady waltzed back in and jauntily told us that if we didn't like the pre-payment penalty, we should just raise the price on our house when we sold, so as to cover it. ?!? Are some people just BORN saying stupid things? Or do they have to work on it?
Anyway. To make a long story short, we canceled, and just decided to move this year. We found 'our house' last week, and made an offer on it yesterday. Seeing as David is the king of all handymen around, it is the perfect fixer-upper for us! And the best thing about it? Between the time we looked at it, and the time we made our offer, the price went down fifteen thousand dollars...$15,000!!! I love 'sales'. Sooo...we're just waaaaaaaaiting for them to either accept (yes please) or reject our offer. *fingers crossed*

I guess we also are needing our own home to sell...any advice, tips, or thoughts are welcome!!

Life lessons learned in line

On his way home from work the other day, David, my husband, stopped to renew his license. As he stood in line, trying to stay awake, an older lady bounced in the doors and took her place behind him. As they moved a centimeter forward, she chirped something about the length of the line reminding her of Worlds of Fun, and then cackled merrily as David politely nodded.

Standing in line is never terribly fun; especially when you've just finished working the midnight shift, and desperately need some sleep. Standing in a line for 45 minutes with a woman who never takes a breath, is even worse.
She apparently cracked herself up, because she did nothing but talk and laugh at her own wittiness. After about 35 minutes she must've noticed that David was not joining her in the laughter, and that his smiles and attempts at politeness were getting strained.
Leaning in close, she imparted some words of wisdom, "It takes more muscles to frown, than it takes to smile!"

His response? A polite smile. It's for the best that I wasn't there to impart my own words of wisdom.


It takes more muscles to prattle on for over half an hour, than it takes to shut up.

Dear Offensive Old Lady,

I do not know you, and you do not know me. That means we are strangers. Strangers do not walk up to other strangers and pick up their babies. That is called (in my book at least) very rude and presumptuous.
Yes, Alexis was crying as I ran on the treadmill, but that still gives you no right to walk down, glare in self-righteous indignation at me, and scoop my child up. Babies have screamed for years, and none have died of it yet. I'd think that with as long as you've lived, you'd have learned that by now. I also would've thought that with your vast experience you'd know that you did not do me a favor, and I did not appreciate it.
No, I refuse to feign gratefulness or appreciation. You shouldn't have touched my child, and you really scared her. She started screaming harder as soon as you touched her and took her out of the seat--if you had had your hearing aid turned up a bit more you would've realized that.


joy (aka ungrateful mother)

empathy

I always feel badly for people when they are embarrassed. I feel their embarrassment, and wish I could take it away for them. I was reminded of my strong empathetic leanings this past week when I went out for a night of fun and sports.
Who ever came up with picking teams? You stand there with a fake smile on their face, watching as those on either side of them are picked...desperately hoping that you won't be the last. It's even worse when you aren't 'picked' but are the very last person, so you're just 'assigned' to a team. They never even call your name, or pick you from the line-up, you just walk over because the other team already picked the last person standing with you. I hate the team-picking process, whether I've been picked yet or not. I either feel very self-conscience as I wait to be picked, or I feel sorry for those not picked yet. I really think teams should just be 'made' with one person dividing the players into 2 teams as fairly as possible. This avoids those awkward, embarrassed feelings completely.

And really, having a 'bat till you hit the ball' rule, as opposed to the '3 strikes and you're out', is SO wrong! It's one thing if it's a small child who's learning...but when the 15 year old has been swinging at air for 10 minutes (literally), it gets really embarrassing for all involved. The 'Good eye! Make him pitch it to ya' started sounding flat after 3 minutes, and after 5 minutes even the 'You can do it' encouragements had a desperate, embarrassed sound to them.
It's much better to 'strike out' after three throws, than to 'strike out' for 10 minutes straight.

More cheese, less lettuce please

What is up with Taco Bell putting 3 pieces of cheese on their tacos? Is it their new way of cutting corners? (Weekly staff meeting announcement: "If each taco only gets 2-3 pieces of cheese we'll save $2 a month.") Or did I miss the commercials for the new game Find the Cheese and win $$$$$? I never get lucky with those games (as evidenced by the complete lack of cheese on my tacos this afternoon).
Now if it were a game about finding the lettuce, why, I'd be a millionare living on my own private beach by now. I must sound or look like I need more greens, but come on, do they have to tear up an entire head of lettuce for my one taco?

Homemade insect repellent

As I was studying about the 'sensory organs' this evening I learned that cerumen (earwax) acts as an insect repellent. So if you're ever out somewhere, and have forgotten to bring along your 'OFF', don't despair! You'll always have your earwax with you, and it will keep those bugs away. You'd have to have quite a bit to cover your exposed skin though...in fact, it might take years to get enough to do the job for one outing. I wouldn't really know though, seeing as I've never smeared earwax over my skin to keep insects away.
This is the perfect excuse for children who hate cleaning their ears.



Or not. I obviously need to go to bed and stop studying.

It's not luck, lady

As I was rollerblading up the hill that I've lovingly dubbed "suicide mountain", I caught up with a very large woman who was *really* struggling to keep her bicycle going forward. I thought it was great that she was working out -- that hill is really big.
Then, as I passed her, she whined through heavy panting, "You're so lucky! You're not even breathing hard! It's not fair!"



That's not called luck, lady, that's the benefit of working out regularly. And I know that everyone wants to be the victim of unfairness, but come on, aren't you taking it a little too far?

Trashy treasures?

Things keep getting lost at our house. I searched for two days for Alexis' sandals (obviously I took long breaks for ice-cream and chocolate consumption...had to keep my energy level up). The remote control was also missing. Oh, and a DVD from blockbuster had disappeared.

As I was retrieving a book out of the trash can for Alexis (she recently discovered how fun it is to drop things in through the swivel lid), I noticed the blockbuster DVD...and the remote control...and what do ya know? Her sandals were in there too.


Perfect. Now I'm going to have to look through the trash every time I empty it to make sure I don't throw away anything of value.

Must love children

Why is it that certain people think I just love their children? Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like their kids, but just because I don't dislike them doesn't mean I want to hold one of them every time I see them, or take them on special road trips with me. I love looking at children (unless I'm in a super crabby mood), commenting on their cuteness, or even having a short conversation with them, if time permits. However, I've only been given the grace to handle and deal with my own child for long periods of time. Other children begin to wear on me very quickly, which is the main reason I've not babysat for anyone ever since I was 16. I just wish that some parents would realize that not everyone loves and adores their child as much as they do. Just because *they* love spending tons of time with their kids doesn't mean that *I* love to as well!
Case in point.
I, as well as another family, were going to the airport to greet some members of our church who were returning from a missions trip. David was working the evening shift, and Alexis was not yet born, so I was driving alone.
The other family wanted to meet me in Meijer's parking lot, and have me follow them to the airport. Aside from feeling slightly irked that they thought I couldn't get there on my own, I didn't mind. However, not only did they not believe that I could make it there, they apparently didn't think that I should even be driving alone.

"Joy, you shouldn't have to drive all alone!! Here, Caden would love to drive up with you," *turns to child* "Wouldn't you Caden?"

The little 5 year old boy jumps from the vehicle with a huge grin, and starts talking a mile a minute about the last time they went to the airport.
Inwardly I cringed, but I was not about to hurt his feelings by telling him that I actually *wanted* to drive by myself. It was not his fault that his mom was rude.
So (after they spent 15 minutes putting his car seat in the back seat of my car), I spent the next 45 minutes listening to Caden talk. Growing up in a big family (oldest of 8), I had certainly learned how to tune little voices out, so I retreated into my own world between his questions. He only caught me once when I snapped back into the conversation and asked what color his new tie was. "But Joy, I just told you what color it was! Weren't you listening?!"

heh. Actually, no kid, I was thinking about how nice my quiet house was, and how much I missed it.

Photo post

For the 4th of July, David, Alexis and I flew up to Michigan to visit my family. I'm the eldest of 8 children, so that always makes for an eventful trip. Anyway, my sis Ruth (2 years younger than me) has a digital camera, so we managed to get some pictures of our visit. I love looking at other people's photos, so here are a few of mine.

This is Ruth (22), Alexis (10months), and Mark (8)


Here's Alexis, looking all grown up


My younger sis, Anna (13) and I:

My parents (Mimi & Papa) with Lexi:

And lastly, my little angel and me:

Unappetizing

Upon the deliverance of my husband's patty melt, the waitress announced:

"And here's your potty melt..." :::pause:::

"...I mean your potty melt..." :::another pause as she realized that she'd said it again::: :::embarrassed laugh:::

"No, I mean, your pAtty melt...pAtty, not pOtty..."

She must have young children.

My list of things to do yesterday:

- get up
- exercise
- study
- sunbathe/swim
- laundry
- dinner
- vacuum

I find it rather bothersome that the only thing I was able to cross off this list was:
- get up

Read on an airline website:

ALERT!
Babies should NEVER be left in an infant carrier while it goes through the X-ray machine.

Almost

As David climbed in bed this morning (he works the midnight shift), I sleepily kissed him, and then rolled back over to enjoy some more sleep. It was the perfect morning to sleep in, with the soft patter of rain, the chilled air which makes me burrow deeper into the warmth of my bed, and the occasional clap of thunder. I was very aware of the excellent sleeping-in conditions of the morning as I happily drifted back to sleep. I had been having a good dream before he came home, and I actually continued to have it as I closed my eyes and slept...until Alexis started crying and woke me up.
I tried to ignore her...I really did...I didn't want to lose my perfect morning. But David wouldn't let me.
"Aren't you going to get her?!" he asked
"She's only been crying for a minute." I protested
But he insisted "No, it's been 15 minutes and she's keeping me awake."

Arg. If I hadn't been so busy mourning the loss of my extra sleep, I would've felt bad for not realizing she'd been crying for so long.