Faith-ism

(A quote from Faith, said with a slow Southern drawl)...

"Mama, you are soft around the middle like a big ol' ripe blueberry!"

--The Milk Maid will take it as a complement.

Weekly(ish) Recap

To catch up:

I was going to cook salmon and rice for supper, but the salmon had gone bad.

I hear B's voice out there somewhere saying something to the snarky effect of, "But how do you KNOW when fish has gone bad?" and the obligatory "Bllehh retch!" sounds follow that comment.

B, trust me... it tried to swim out of the zip bag onto the grill. Nasty.

Work is work- I still love it, but I guess the euphoria of it all is wearing off a dab. We have one total party pooper at work- we shall call her Tiny Whiny- and her goal in life seems to be to make me miserable and bitch and whine and run her mouth. Constantly. Totally drama queen-o-rama. I'm a no-fly zone when it comes to all that, so you can only imagine what life has been like the past few weeks.

Other than all the above jazz life is pretty calm and quiet. I haven't had much time to run my usual inner-dialogue so my blogging has suffered. My emailing back has also suffered. My doing anything but working and cooking and occasionally cleaning and eating once or twice a day has suffered.

--The Milk Maid says she's a slacker and she knows it (and claps her hands).

retail jobs anyone?

Discussions

Yesterday my dad took Faith to the ribbon cutting of a special sports field and playground facility that is dedicated solely towards children with special needs and handicaps. The baseball field is synthetic turf so it's easily accessible for wheelchairs or other motility enhancing devices. There is a playground that is also wheelchair assessable (and it's a pirate ship- how freaking cool is that?!).

Phil Neikro was at the ribbon cutting and was autographing baseballs, hats, shirts, photos, etc. Faith got to meet him and have some photos made with him. She didn't really fathom who he was, but she understood why he was there (to use his fame to promote something positive for the community).

This whole conversation leads into why children have handicaps. All I could really tell her, without going into a long drawn out genetics talk or trying to explain chromosomes or even that sometimes things happen to children born able bodied and they become handicapped or something of the sort, I just told her that some children are chosen by God to be different than we are.

Perhaps later I will elaborate on all of this with Faith, but without prior thought this is all I could produce as an explanation.

Did I handle this right gang?

--The Milk Maid says do the fandango with fancy jewelry!

The Milk MEAD Does RenFest

MEAD: Honey Wine

After two bottles of this delectable libation at the Houston Renaissance Festival yesterday (shared with my Pal B, of course) I officially declared myself the Milk Mead!

Drunken debauchery, men in kilts taking photos of their bare genitalia, henna tattoos, steak on a stick, Mud Men, and K grounding us from any further alcohol were only some of the highlights of this weekend...

There was also drunk dialing, discussions (in depth) of Brazilian waxing, the whoring of Christoper Titus' comedy on You-Tube, drinking before noon, and the waking up of people who had to go to work today (late last night = getting yelled at).

Tomorrow is back to reality. I fly back home later tonight and leave H-town until a date to be announced much later.

I leave my friends B&K, I leave the city I've come to love, I leave company I am at home with.

-The Milk Maid says party on til next time Garth!

It's All Relative

I called my mother not long ago to let her know that Jef will drop Ava off around 11:30 tomorrow. She answered the phone with a bump and a bang and then a very sleepy sounding word that came out more like "huhhlow?" than her usual "helloooo!".

My poor mother watched Ava for a whole 5 1/2 hours today. My mother could barely form words into a coherent sentence because she was so exhausted from her day of keeping up with Miss A. Less than six hours... with my dad lending a hand the whole time.

Bless her heart... should I tell her we are planning a third child?

--The Milk Maid says dreamer, nothing but a dreamer.

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