Mmmmk. I have several things rollin in my brain this morning, but due to the morning haze that night owls sometimes possess... I would like to send out a fair warning that Im not sure how clearly I am capable of typing words this morning. THE BELL IS RINGING. However...I feel the blogging bird standing on my shoulder (snaggin a hole in my cardigan) and chirping loudly in my ear. SO...read on.
This weekend was a nice end to the week...quitefamily oriented. THE BELL IS RINGING. On Friday I took my small, teenage, grounded, sister to do things. While I have been home in Texas we have become bosom buddies.. mainly because she lets me treat her (and her beauty) like a doll while I take pictures of her, and humors me (most of the time) when I force her to do crafty things for my entertainment... sort of like my puppy while Rachel's away. ;) THE BELL IS RINGING. We went to a corny block buster called 'Life As We Know It.' Corny or not...there were some excellent looking men in that film that I enjoyed pretending to make eye contact with via big screen. Don't judge, we all know you do the same. While driving to the theatre, water began pouring from the sky in massive amounts. This rainstorm was not a feminine sprinkle. Let me just tell you... it was the kind of rain that looks as if buckets of water are being dumped out of clouds, the kind of rain that will soak you in half a second. THE BELL IS RINGING. When we stopped the car...the sisteren was all ready to hop out in it with her hooded head, acting as if I should do the same. Mind you... we had an entire acre wide parking lot to run across. All I could think of was how delightful sitting in a cold and dark movie theatre with soggy shoes and wet hair down my back would be. Unfortunately, the movie was starting and Haleigh was getting crabby with my 'wait for the rain to desist before getting out the of car' tactics. THE BELL IS RINGING. Finally.. when I realized that the drops were going to show no mercy, I decided to make a leap for it...hoping the rain gods would show my non-hooded hairs some smaller drops for the ten point five seconds while I scaled the parking lot. We opened the car door and hit the pavement sprinting...h2o pelting, shoes sloshing, mascara dripping, and laughs belting. THE BELL IS RINGING. THE BELL IS RINGING. THE BELL IS RINGING. By the time we arrived at the awning to buy our tickets, we had all since given up. Yet, due to the nice adrenaline rush, we done splashed and laughed our way right into that movie, only stopping to make fun of who's wet spots looked more like pee stains. It may sound immature...but for someone who despises potty humor, even I can admit the humor in such a joke. This lengthy and descriptive anecdote is all to say...It was a nice moment. As I have been away from friends, living a more simple life for the past few months...I have tried more desperately to find zest in small moments such as this, especially with family. THE BELL IS RINGING. Watching a rather cranky teenager's run through the rain turn from dainty to a anti-graceful-tom-boy like dead sprint, only to then witness those emotional blue eyes light up as she realized life (even when grounded) isn't half bad,was a moment to remember.
On Saturday the rain continued, which gave me an excuse to wear fall things (namely boots) and red lipstick to Dallas with the fam to eat dinner with my brother and his wife. They have a charming little life in Dallas, Texas. They have been married for three years and Mandy is a High School art teacher, while Geoffrey finishes undergrad and prepares for law school. They pride themselves on searching out the greatest artistic happenings and edible delicacies in the metroplex. They took my family to a restaurant calles 'Bolsa' where I believe everything is organic, locally grown, and bought fresh everyday. We all moaned with pleasure as we ate things such as honey and butternut squash bisque, flat bread with roasted grapes, arugula, goat cheese, and feta, apple and brie bruschetta, an assortment of desserts including crem brule, peanut butter cookies with cream on top, and orange bread pudding. IT. WAS. MY. DREAM. It was fabulous getting to catch up with my artsy little siblings and laugh at family jokes. I'm still not sure whether or not Mandy thinks we're funny... but I hope so, and bless her heart for laughing. ;)
After eating everything, we decided to walk around downtown. Then came the not so grand part of the evening. THE BELL IS RINGING. We all were walking like ducks in a row when my Father, Christian became overwhelmed with immense pain in his stomach/chest area. We thought it was indigestion until he could barely breathe or walk. He told my Mom we needed to take him to the ER because he was either having a heart attach or his Gallbladder was about to explode. THE BELL IS RINGING. For a man who's a Doctor, when he says 'take me to the hospital,' we listen. Poor man was in triage for a few minutes and then admitted to run tests. He was in so much pain that they pumped him full of morphine and other pain killers and after crossing out possibilities of a heart attack, prepped him for surgery on his Gallbladder. Then the Doctor's decided emergency surgery wasn't necessary, and that he could wait a few more days and have surgery in Sherman where we reside. THE BELL IS RINGING. The fools released him from the hospital at four in the morning. After being shot full of so many drugs in prep for surgery, throwing up made the car ride home super fun for him. He is now resting and deciding what doctor to have slice him. For an organ that is less than two inches in length and width the Gallbladder can cause a bitch of a problem. Im so glad my chubby cheeked father is alright. What a blessing that I have live parentals.
Now. I don't feel this blog post would be complete with a quick update from my imaginary book 'The funeral & the Flower Shop.' Im sure that your eyes have been perplexed to read the words 'THE BELL IS RINGING' numerously and randomly stuck inside many a paragraph of this blog post. Well. I just wanted to share a little of my misery here at the fun house with you, so that you can really feel a part of my everyday life. I work upstairs in the 1908 built funeral home, which means each time someone comes in I must walk down the stairs... mail man, employee, dead person, or not. This would be fine... except for the five million non-pressing entries that cause the door bell clock thing to repeatedly sound. After hearing this door ringer contraption sound literally over a hundred times each day, documenting front door opening, back door opening, smoke break opening, etc. I unfortunately cannot tell which sounds are which. There is also a coo-coo clock that chimes each thirty minutes... and between all of the ding dong ding dong----ding dong dddddinnnnngggg donngggss.... I might be going a little crazy. Is the clock the door or the door the clock!?!? Little did you know... the 'talking with a crazy person' blog post that Rachel wrote.. was in reference to me. It's far past time to crush AND hide the doorbell alarm clock ringer crazy person maker thing. If you want to help... give me a holler.
Enjoy the Marathon blog post. Also, Here are a few things that Ive been dreaming about in between door bell soundings. I hope all of you had a delicious weekend, and remember 'he not busy being born is busy dyin,' all hale Bob Dylan.
This weekend was a nice end to the week...quitefamily oriented. THE BELL IS RINGING. On Friday I took my small, teenage, grounded, sister to do things. While I have been home in Texas we have become bosom buddies.. mainly because she lets me treat her (and her beauty) like a doll while I take pictures of her, and humors me (most of the time) when I force her to do crafty things for my entertainment... sort of like my puppy while Rachel's away. ;) THE BELL IS RINGING. We went to a corny block buster called 'Life As We Know It.' Corny or not...there were some excellent looking men in that film that I enjoyed pretending to make eye contact with via big screen. Don't judge, we all know you do the same. While driving to the theatre, water began pouring from the sky in massive amounts. This rainstorm was not a feminine sprinkle. Let me just tell you... it was the kind of rain that looks as if buckets of water are being dumped out of clouds, the kind of rain that will soak you in half a second. THE BELL IS RINGING. When we stopped the car...the sisteren was all ready to hop out in it with her hooded head, acting as if I should do the same. Mind you... we had an entire acre wide parking lot to run across. All I could think of was how delightful sitting in a cold and dark movie theatre with soggy shoes and wet hair down my back would be. Unfortunately, the movie was starting and Haleigh was getting crabby with my 'wait for the rain to desist before getting out the of car' tactics. THE BELL IS RINGING. Finally.. when I realized that the drops were going to show no mercy, I decided to make a leap for it...hoping the rain gods would show my non-hooded hairs some smaller drops for the ten point five seconds while I scaled the parking lot. We opened the car door and hit the pavement sprinting...h2o pelting, shoes sloshing, mascara dripping, and laughs belting. THE BELL IS RINGING. THE BELL IS RINGING. THE BELL IS RINGING. By the time we arrived at the awning to buy our tickets, we had all since given up. Yet, due to the nice adrenaline rush, we done splashed and laughed our way right into that movie, only stopping to make fun of who's wet spots looked more like pee stains. It may sound immature...but for someone who despises potty humor, even I can admit the humor in such a joke. This lengthy and descriptive anecdote is all to say...It was a nice moment. As I have been away from friends, living a more simple life for the past few months...I have tried more desperately to find zest in small moments such as this, especially with family. THE BELL IS RINGING. Watching a rather cranky teenager's run through the rain turn from dainty to a anti-graceful-tom-boy like dead sprint, only to then witness those emotional blue eyes light up as she realized life (even when grounded) isn't half bad,was a moment to remember.
On Saturday the rain continued, which gave me an excuse to wear fall things (namely boots) and red lipstick to Dallas with the fam to eat dinner with my brother and his wife. They have a charming little life in Dallas, Texas. They have been married for three years and Mandy is a High School art teacher, while Geoffrey finishes undergrad and prepares for law school. They pride themselves on searching out the greatest artistic happenings and edible delicacies in the metroplex. They took my family to a restaurant calles 'Bolsa' where I believe everything is organic, locally grown, and bought fresh everyday. We all moaned with pleasure as we ate things such as honey and butternut squash bisque, flat bread with roasted grapes, arugula, goat cheese, and feta, apple and brie bruschetta, an assortment of desserts including crem brule, peanut butter cookies with cream on top, and orange bread pudding. IT. WAS. MY. DREAM. It was fabulous getting to catch up with my artsy little siblings and laugh at family jokes. I'm still not sure whether or not Mandy thinks we're funny... but I hope so, and bless her heart for laughing. ;)
After eating everything, we decided to walk around downtown. Then came the not so grand part of the evening. THE BELL IS RINGING. We all were walking like ducks in a row when my Father, Christian became overwhelmed with immense pain in his stomach/chest area. We thought it was indigestion until he could barely breathe or walk. He told my Mom we needed to take him to the ER because he was either having a heart attach or his Gallbladder was about to explode. THE BELL IS RINGING. For a man who's a Doctor, when he says 'take me to the hospital,' we listen. Poor man was in triage for a few minutes and then admitted to run tests. He was in so much pain that they pumped him full of morphine and other pain killers and after crossing out possibilities of a heart attack, prepped him for surgery on his Gallbladder. Then the Doctor's decided emergency surgery wasn't necessary, and that he could wait a few more days and have surgery in Sherman where we reside. THE BELL IS RINGING. The fools released him from the hospital at four in the morning. After being shot full of so many drugs in prep for surgery, throwing up made the car ride home super fun for him. He is now resting and deciding what doctor to have slice him. For an organ that is less than two inches in length and width the Gallbladder can cause a bitch of a problem. Im so glad my chubby cheeked father is alright. What a blessing that I have live parentals.
Now. I don't feel this blog post would be complete with a quick update from my imaginary book 'The funeral & the Flower Shop.' Im sure that your eyes have been perplexed to read the words 'THE BELL IS RINGING' numerously and randomly stuck inside many a paragraph of this blog post. Well. I just wanted to share a little of my misery here at the fun house with you, so that you can really feel a part of my everyday life. I work upstairs in the 1908 built funeral home, which means each time someone comes in I must walk down the stairs... mail man, employee, dead person, or not. This would be fine... except for the five million non-pressing entries that cause the door bell clock thing to repeatedly sound. After hearing this door ringer contraption sound literally over a hundred times each day, documenting front door opening, back door opening, smoke break opening, etc. I unfortunately cannot tell which sounds are which. There is also a coo-coo clock that chimes each thirty minutes... and between all of the ding dong ding dong----ding dong dddddinnnnngggg donngggss.... I might be going a little crazy. Is the clock the door or the door the clock!?!? Little did you know... the 'talking with a crazy person' blog post that Rachel wrote.. was in reference to me. It's far past time to crush AND hide the doorbell alarm clock ringer crazy person maker thing. If you want to help... give me a holler.
Enjoy the Marathon blog post. Also, Here are a few things that Ive been dreaming about in between door bell soundings. I hope all of you had a delicious weekend, and remember 'he not busy being born is busy dyin,' all hale Bob Dylan.
Heirloom Tomatoes.So vintage. Lets farm them.
Gradated straw flowers. mmm.
I need one of these.
Live. Here.
Best wedding favor idea everrrrr.
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