You Once, Twice... Twenty One Times...

21 is how old you need to be in order to "legally" drink.

"21" is the title of Adele's album.  (Why do they call them albums anymore anyhow?)

Tim Duncan's uniform number is 21.  So was Sammy Sosa's. 

21 is the total you want when playing blackjack.

21 is half my age.  (I'm actually pretty happy with this!)

21 is the atomic number of the element scandium.

21 is the standard TCP/IP number for an FTP connection.  (ehhh?? <raising eyebrows>)

21 is the number of years we've been married!  Hunks n kisses, arguments, okay... fights, run in the dark, hop on pop, 3 amazing boys, Ferris events for 27 years (gads!), 1 car to 5, no dogs to 3, "my gaggy has a biiiiiig...", falling on clean carpets, allowing me to leave him in the dust at the St. Paddy's 5, Arizona, Montana, Cabo, Utah, Idaho, California, Texas, and everywhere we've ever lived - him putting up with me deciding on whether or not we could live there - all depended on where the Christmas tree would go! 

Big heart, funny guy, is most definitely color blind... okay, he's not, but he dresses like he is.  Regardless of that - he's a keeper.

Cheers to you "Gaggy".  Happy Anniversary! 

It All Went Down On 46th & Regal Today!

Two things you should know:  1) if a spider the size of your iris is in the same room as me, at any time - even if I'm sleeping... I will see it (yes, even in the dark - I will wake up and know it's there) and not be able to go back to sleep/to what I was doing until The Dad "gets" the spider.  And 2) if a large number of law enforcement vehicles come racing past us in the car - I have been known to ask The Dad to follow them... (large number could be 2, whatever), because something really awesome might be going on that I just don't want to miss!

Therein lies today's "story".

I was sitting all alone, minding my business, doing my work - because there's a whole lot of it when up on the roof there arose such a clatter... sorry, wrong story.  When after an absence that I wasn't aware of, my "roommate" at work came around to my side (this rarely happens) and says - "I can't believe you're sitting back here when all of the drama is going on outside the corner here."

A-PC: (Arachnaphobiac/Police Chaser) "What drama? Where"

RM: "Outside. On the street.  One guy even had his gun drawn."

A-PC:  "What?!  I love stuff like that.  Where?"

RM:  "Go look out the kitchen window."

I was getting a bit anxious because "How on earth did my little spider/police signal NOT alert me to this!!!"  

Sure enough - this is what I saw:

Now in this photo there is only one "cop" car.  The rest are all these really nice trucks.  I missed the whole "gun" thing, which probably would have made my entire "Daytona 500 Screwed My Week" week totally a thousand percent better.  These guys were wearing kevlar vests, and there was no freakin way to tell that their really cool trucks were unmarked, bad ass, cars.

Obviously - the people in the little car you can't see are serial killers.  Who brought drugs across the border.  After embezzling millions of dollars from a dry cleaning company.  Which is said to be owned by none other than Mafia madman, Junior Lollipops.  Who hasn't been seen in 18 years.

Obviously.

Okay - I don't know that for sure but obviously the man and woman - who was transported in a different car than the man - and not wearing shoes, are not thought of highly by the Men in Trucks.  The Man didn't fight it and went willingly to the transport vehicle.  She didn't either when her car came.  The thing she did, that he didn't do... was cry.  

How did I get the picture you ask?  I RACED to my desk to get my iPhone that iLove.  Snapped a few photos and then tweeted them to the news stations who were painfully slow getting there.  I was just going to send it to Jeff, but everyone else was telling the poor receptionist to call the news stations and let them know.  <shrug>  

For the sake of story telling... Now that I think about it, while I was sitting at my desk, I heard a few "popping" sounds, but never in a million years thought that Detective Sipowicz was out there shooting people.  :)  I'll know better next time.

Leap'in In to March

Well a couple of things happened this week...

At work - I'm constantly working ahead into the weeks and months ahead.  Thanks to the rain out of the Daytona 500 on Sunday my Monday and Tuesday were spent working in this week which isn't the norm.  On Monday I kept looking ahead to February 28th and at one point was thinking it was in fact, February 28th.  Why am I giving this any attention?  Well at that one point where I was thinking it was February 28th, I quickly opened up an email to send to The Dad to wish him a "Happy Adoption Day"... and I felt badly that I hadn't remembered before jetting off to work.  And then I remembered... it's the 27th.  So instead of writing it up and saving it so I could send it after I forgot the next morning - I closed it and got back to business.

Thanks again to the Daytona and my uber busy week thus far - when The Dad got home last night from work, I started to say "You're adoption day is tomorrow..."  And as I was trailing off I now realized it was Tuesday and in fact, his adoption day.  So there were two days this week that I thought were February 28th and neither of them was Tuesday.  

This morning, on our way home from the club I said "I'm so glad it's Thursday."  Fuuuu.....

So glad they chose you!!!

Guess what?  It's not Thursday.  And for those of you that knew that already - treat yourself to a cookie.  I on the other hand, will be treating myself to a glass of chardonnay tonight.  Perhaps a bottle...  whatever gets us out of February, better yet - THIS WEEK best, I'll take!

So - Gaggy...  Happy Belated Adoption Day... Happy Leap Day... Year... <?> and I'll just go ahead and wish you a Happy Anniversary (21 years on Friday!) and Happy Birthday  (November 29) now, because it's not lookin' too good right now that I might get a day right.  At least not this week!

And now... let's adventure on into March... shall we?

Let's Pretend...

You remember when you were little and you wanted to play "pretend house", "pretend doctor", "pretend singer/movie star", smoke "pretend cigarettes" because that was sooooo cool?  You remember those times?

What the (*@*&^ were we thinking?!?!?!?

I've been playing "pretend" a lot lately - with regards to one thing more than most others.  You see, since December I think I've racked up roughly 47 mailers (magazines) that I'm sure I just have to look through!    About 4 weeks ago I actually sifted through them and recycled all of the ones that had Christmas "themes" and last night before I went to my massage appointment I shuffled through them again to make sure there were no "Valentines" based ads/magazines.  I figured when I got home - since I had made dinner, started and folded laundry at lunch and even started to clear the guest bedroom of all of it's ugliness - that I could return from my appointment and while waiting for "The Voice" and "Smash" to come on, I could FINALLY thumb through them to see what I might not be able to live without.

Well...  that's what I pretend I'm going to do... at least 4 times a week.  On the days I don't get to pretend I'm going to do that - I move that stack of V.I.M.'s from one spot to another (Okay mom... "very important magazines"... got it?)  And when I'm not moving the v.i.m.'s around I'm NOT pretending to do laundry.  I'm NOT pretending to pick up the miscellaneous crumbs and pieces of garbage that everybody else in this house KNOWS is garbage or crumbs but leave them sitting there for the "invisible house cleaner" to pick up.  So many things I'm NOT pretending to do...

I might have to make an appointment with a "pretend house doctor", write it on the calendar and while I'm waiting for the pretend appointment, I'll sit in the living room with my magazines and thumb through them.  And when The dad or #3 son walk in and ask what's for dinner or where they put their car keys (this actually doesn't apply to #3 son) I will pretend I can't hear them, since I'll be in a pretend waiting room... NOT pretending to look at my ginormous stack of V.I.M's.  (You still remember what that stands for mom?  Good girl!)

A Three "N" Day!

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens

Bright copper kettles 

and warm woolen mittens

Brown paper packages

tied up with string

These are a few of my favorite things:

Football, any PGA event that includes Tiger Woods, anything my boys are involved with, music, Cabo, writing, jokes/humor, my pups, Thanksgiving Turkey Bowl, WSU, EWU, UW/Western, "Remember The Titans", "Blindside", George Clooney, "The Voice", "Grey's", Rosauers shortbread cookies and hangin out with my best guy!

But today wasn't a "F.P.TW.B.M.C.W.J/H.P...." day... it was an NNN day.  As in:

Noooooooooooo!!!! Not Nascar!!!!!!

Number 1)  Please explain why anyone thinks that watching cars go round and round in circles is any fun.  At all.  Scratch that.  Don't.  Because I really don't want to have to pretend like what you suggest - *might* change my mind.  It won't, so don't. 

Number 2)  IF a race gets rained out, they shouldn't move it to the next day - they should cancel it.  Period.  It made for a really really really busy, day at work today.  Not that I mind that - but every day is already busy enough.  

Number 3)  I'm pretty sure there doesn't need to be a #3.

Football doesn't get rained out.  Basketball doesn't get rained out.  If your sport can't go on in the rain (baseball, Nascar), then I propose that that game/race is not EVER made up.  Postponed perhaps... to 2312.  Just a suggestion.

In other news:  How about a shout out to my beautiful niece Allison Jennifer and her wonderful new FIANCE, Nick!  Congratulations you two!  We are so happy for you!

It's So Cold Out... Thank God for Hot Flashes!

Or not.

Having one ovary was pretty much pretty perfect for me.  Sadly, when it came time to check out what was wrong again the doc didn't give me much of a choice and the second one had to come out.  The first three months without "her" were okay, until the shot they gave me, my body decided not to "process" normally - shocker.  What followed was unwanted weight gain, mood swings worse than when I HAD ovaries and all that accompanies them.  

It was deduced that birth control pills were not the answer and he would never again give me the shot so HRT it is and a cream that's made at the pharmacy.  I started, in August, after all of the hormones finally wore off from the half-shot in June.  They prescribed .5ml two times a day and after three weeks I was back to beeyotch of the century, itchy skin and mood swings Satan would kick me out of hell for.  A phone call to doc and pharmacist suggest cutting it back to half of each dose and see if that helps.  10 days later - I'm still pretty pissed, itchy and praying for an ovary to miraculously grow in me.  Why not?  Everything else did.  Next phone call with the pharmacist - where I believe she understands what circumstances my family members must be living with...  she says to go off of it entirely for 10 days and then start up with the cream, ONE time a day - the half dose.  

Not entirely the same thing happened, but close.  So now I'm down to a half of a half dose.  Actually less... to about one eighth of what was prescribed...  and mostly - I'm freaking fantabulous.  

Except...  

For the hot flashes.  If I'm at home - then I don't really care if I get one and immediately strip off my pants to find relief, or tear off my shirt and find a tank top to wear for the remainder of the day.  And usually I find I only have them once I've settled in for the night - so that's good, right?  Well, mostly.  I handle it just fine when we're watching TV or I'm cooking.  But once I go to bed - I get a bit pissed.  It's covers on.  Covers off.  Covers on. Covers off.  Once I fall asleep I'm good to go for the night.  But usually, within about 10  minutes of waking up in the morning... I get a good one.  What one must understand is that as I'm angrily tossing covers or removing legs from under the covers because I can't toss covers (due to dogs laying all over the place) is that The Poor Dad is having to live with this.  The guy deserves a standing ovation because he NEVER says a thing or tries to pull covers back up.  He just patiently waits for me to pull them back up.  The thing about mine are - they don't last long.  So there's that.  So far.

BUT - when they happen at work, or while we're out at a restaurant, well... that just plain sucks.  This week - I got a first one while at work towards the end of the day and I happened to be wearing a skirt and tights.  I took off my shoes to see if that would help and it did not.  Shit.  I sat there trying to think through how I could just take off my tights until it passed because it was seeming to take some time to "go the fu** away".  The more I told it to, the longer it lasted and the hotter I got.   

I recently read that in hotter weather, they get worse... and I'm not about to let it affect my Cabo vacation - so off to buy a product I was told about last fall that I didn't need... until now.  Black Cohosh.  Several gals my age-ish recommended it though I was doing pretty well at that point up until about 3 weeks ago.  So I think it's time to give it a shot.  It's gotten old pretty fast and I just am not a very patient person.

In the meantime, if you come to the front door and I don't answer right away, it's merely because I'm trying to spare you from seeing me in my underwear!