Mr. Fredricksen

My youngest son, age 4, has changed his name to "Mr. Fredricksen" (he got it from the movie, "UP")...so for the last week and a half, instead of calling him Josh, we call him Mr. Fredricksen.  In fact, he even refers to himself as Mr. Fredricksen...so he will correct me if I make a mistake and call him by his given name.  This makes me laugh, partly because when I was pregnant with Mr. Fredricksen, my daughter (age 4 at the time) wanted me to name him Mr. Whiskers. :)

So, Mr, Fredricksen gave me a present for my birthday last weekend.  He had wrapped the gift in beautiful green leaves and pink flowers he had found in the front yard.  I opened it slowly...wondering what treasure he could have found for me.  Inside, I found a cat food coupon for 50 cents off Whisker Lickin's.  Stifling my giggles, I thanked him immensely and told him how much I loved and appreciated the gift.  Mr. Fredricksen just shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal as he walked away and responded, "I found it in the garage."

Last night I had a dream we had pet alligators (we have a dog and two cats) that lived in our backyard swimming pool (we do not really have a pool). My family was swimming around in the pool and the ginormous alligators (about 10 of them) were laying on the bottom of the pool staring up at us like we were tasty morsels of food. I got out of the pool calmly, went into the house and suddenly realized I couldn't remember the last time we had fed the alligators and panicked...I had to get my kids out of the pool or they would be eaten! When I arrived back outside my husband informed me had taken care of it...I looked over and he had shot, killed, skinned and stacked up the pet alligators in the yard. When I asked him why he did that, he simply said, "I had to. They were trying to come into the house to eat you."

 

 

I've been trying to figure out what this dream means and I've come up with a few explanations...

#1. I am worried about something happening to my children.

#2. I view my husband as our family protector in any given situation.

OR...

#3. I have watched entirely too many episodes of "Swamp People."

Katie-isms Post #4

This actually happened a few months ago but I've been so bad about writing these things down in my blog I wanted to do it before I forgot.  If you don't already know this about my daughter, she is the queen of random.

While riding in the car one day, Katie asks me, "Mom, how big can hail get?"

"I'm not sure of the record," I tell her, "but I've heard about hail the size of golf balls and baseballs..."

She is silent a moment. Pondering. Then she asks, "Could hail get bigger than a can of yams?"

Top 10 things I learned while competing in my first Triathlon

First off, (confession time), that photo isn't me. I know, you thought it was...;) My photos from this past weekend are a lot less...uh, impressive. BUT, I did learn a lot from this little goal I set for myself. I have put together a top ten list of things (think Letterman) I learned...Jodi, this blog post is for you...:)

Top 10 things I learned while competing in my first Triathlon

#10. I need a new bike. The giant comfy seat on my $99 Fred Meyer special was a bonus, but the mountain bike tires and ridiculously heavy frame were NOT HELPFUL on the 12 miles of rolling highway hills with 40 mph headwind…at least it didn’t have a basket and a bell.

#9. Some people are seriously hard core. I saw more than one woman go from the pool, to the bike, then to the run in no more than a two-piece swimsuit on. And this is not southern California people…this is Corvallis. OREGON. In April! We are talking MAYBE 40 degrees outside…

#8. Don’t bother with flip flops when running from the swim to transition #1. I brought them thinking I would use them but then quietly observed the folks from the previous heats RUNNING barefooted from the pool outside to transition…and decided I would most likely fall flat on my face if I tried to wear them. I would need to put aside my fears of contracting a flesh-eating foot fungus and go with bare feet. GAH!

#7. There is no easy way to quickly get biking clothes on over your wet body/swimsuit. Kinda like trying to stuff a turkey into a water balloon.

#6. Photos that your husband snaps of you while trying to *gracefully* do #7 are photos that should be destroyed. IMMEDIATELY.

#5. It is virtually impossible to put on lip gloss during any of these events.

#4. The “no headphones” rule during these races really bites. Running sucks. And running sucks even more without music.

#3. Your legs try to tell you they don’t work after getting off a bike ride like that. Mine said, “You’re telling me to run now, lady?? You’ve got to be freaking kidding me…”

#2. There is nothing quite like having your children shouting “GO MOM! YOU CAN DO IT!” each and every time you pass them on the course, and then seeing their faces at the finish line after 2+ hours of pain and sweat. I’d kick ass for my kids any day, any time, any place. Try me.

#1. I am A LOT tougher than I thought.

Happy 4 Months til the 4th of JULY!

I haven’t written a new entry in so long – but it’s not because nothing hilarious has happened (I feel like my life is a comedy show minus the laugh track)…it’s because I have had the worst case of writers block. EVER.

I don’t know about anyone else but I am so OVER the cold weather. I’m tired of being freezing all the livelong day. I notice that at this time of year, every year, I start looking for jobs in warm places…southern California, Arizona, Hawaii…it is my thing. I do it every. single. winter. Because let’s face it, winter in Portland SUCKS. It’s cold, it’s wet, it rains every hour of every day…LAME-O. But I woke up this morning with a new attitude! Why? Because when I thought about the date, March 4th, I not only thought of my friend Morgan (Happy Birthday, Dillhole!:) but I also realized that just FOUR SHORT MONTHS from right now we will be celebrating the 4th of July. I will be wearing flip-flops, hanging out on my deck with a cold beverage, smelling bar-b-que and eating homemade ice cream. I will continue to think about this in order to get myself through the day and try not to focus too much on the fact that I can’t feel my feet.

Joshy's own song lyrics...Post #1

"Go tell it on the mountain, over the hills and everywhere! Go tell it on the mountain, that Jesus Christ is BORED!"

Pardon Me, That Was My Shoe Farting...

Everyone has their favorite pair of comfortable shoes. My favorites to wear to work were a sensible pair of black Clarkes that my mom had given me. I loved them so much that I wore the soles right off of them – seriously…for several days last week I couldn’t figure out what this “clicking” sound was when I walked. My husband grabbed my shoe and turned it over so I could see the bottom. “Hello???” he laughed, “Don’t you ever look at the bottom of your shoes??” There, to my dismay, was the culprit of the clicking…a ginormous hole in the bottom of my right shoe, and all of the metal “guts” of the shoe exposed. Bummer.

So I broke down and headed to Macy’s to find a new pair. After trying on a few choices, I settled on another pair of cute but comfortable, sensible (and not cheap!) Franco Sartos. I’m not trying to win a beauty contest with these shoes or anything, but I want something that can look good with dress pants or jeans and that are comfortable enough to wear every day in the pouring down Portland rain during the fall and winter months. I found this pair fast and was excited to wear them and not have to listen to the clicking…

What could be worse than clicking shoes, you might ask? Farting shoes. Yes, people, apparently it is a widespread problem. I wore my new shoes for the first time yesterday and to my horror the left shoe expressed its, er, flatulence, LOUDLY, with every single step I took. Holy crap, this was embarrassing. Forced to explain my situation to every passerby I found myself saying, “Do you hear that?” (like they couldn’t) “That’s my shoe, I swear.”

I took off the shoe, tried stretching out the top, thought maybe it was because the leather wasn’t broken in yet. Nothing seemed to help.

I hit the internet to find a solution. Just so you know, there are entire web forums dedicated to farting shoes and what to do about them. It seems to be a very common occurrence – in fact, everyone I talked to about my “problem” yesterday said they had at least one pair of farting shoes. Nice. Comforting to know I am not alone. Some people even resort to throwing their farting shoes away! (If you really care, I solved the problem by putting on socks today…voila! No more noises! Although this kind of misses the whole point of having expensive buttery leather next to my feet…)

So…moral of the story: it happens to many, so you need not hang your head in shame. If the shoe farts, wear it.