3 Bedroom Bungalow to Let in Crazytown

...And Then I Fell Over From Exhaustion

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 09:22:00 +0000

So did I tell you this move consisted of me, The Man, a whiny 3 year old and a truck?? Yep, that was the entire moving crew. Also, if you were following my tweets on Wednesday you would have seen that the new owners of the old house were also building a fence at the house while we were moving. Let me tell you how awesome that was! It was so awesome that they were in our way, cluttering the driveway with their work van, saws, jackhammer, wood, bodies, and suck-a-tude. Oh they kindly left some panels out of the fence so we could move the couch. So helpful of them...Bitter? Me? Nooooo.

Now, we all know I have this thing about spiders. The thing being I bloody hate the bastards. So, when we left the removal of things in the garage until 6pm (dark here) (and a stroke of brilliance on our part) (like I needed more blogging material) we should have known that the creepy crawly icky icky poo poo HUGE spiders would be out en mass! Did I mention that The Man is more afraid of spiders than I am? The process consisted of spinning a box around and out of the garage, screaming, squashing a spider and then doing the "get it off me" dance....for the better part of an hour. The best part is when I would gasp and he would yell "Where is it?" and start bobbing and weaving to make sure it didn't get on his head. Sometimes I would gasp just for fun and then say, "Oh, nevermind it's just a shadow." (I am giggling now as I write that)(cause I am evil). It was pure comedy gold.

What wasn't pure comedy gold was the muscles that I didn't know I had aching for days. Moving heavy furniture is not for girls. The 9000 pound chest of drawers we have was pure murder on my back. Don't even get me started on the couch that didn't want to fit through the kitchen door into the living room. The door had to come off the hinges for that one. Oh and the letting agents, well you know how useless they are.

BUT, the joke is on all of them. This is the view I have out my kitchen window!

How I Moved House in 4 Days and Lived to Tell About It

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 11:45:00 +0000

...or If Anyone Ever Tells You They Enjoy Moving House They Are A Dirty Filthy Liar! (you can tell them I said that too). So I am alive right now, in the new house, internetless, tv less, and it pretty much looks like a bomb went off. BUT I have some funny stories to tell you, cause duh, like I could do anything without making a total fiasco out of it.... Right now, however, I am at the base library and only have 117 minutes remaining on my aloted time (THEY RATION IT?!?!?) Tomorrow I SHOULD have my broadband back up (pray for me). Until then I am relying on my blackberry. You should follow my twitter updates (3bedroom).

Oh. and The Man, pretty much almost took out "the twins" with our entertainment center. I am sorry guys, if you can manage to nail yourself in the nuts with a piece of furniture, believe me, I am gonna drop my end of the piece of furniture and fall into a fit of giggles. It is just how it is.

Take Care! I will try to post again soon. *Air Kisses*

Straight From IM

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 08:00:00 +0000

Talking to Captain Dumbass:

ok, so my new house

I don't know if I have enough furniture

a trip to IKEA may be in order

...like that's a bad thing...

.... they have childcare

I might never return

I couldn't make this stuff up

RTT-My Excuse is Jet Lag

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 09:16:00 +0000

Last time I flew to England I had a bunch of guest posters lined up to distract you from the fact that I couldn't post due to jet lag; this time not so much. So I will distract you with some random..Thank Keely and hit the purple button.

My eyeballs hurt so I think they might fall out of my head. Hypochondriac? Me? Nooo.

POW Sam Kitty has been acting really really friendly to me since I got home. Either he missed me or he is planning something. We'll see.

Apparently Jet Lag doesn't affect kids.

I have the keys to the new house. Actually I have boxes packed into the Jeep to take over there now, I just figured I should post something first. Blogging addiction? Noooo.

More distraction...

Oh and there was this lady sitting behind me on the plane who talked the whole entire 7 hour flight. I don't think she even took a breath. THE. ENTIRE. TIME. I know all about her failed relationships and slimy ex husband. OMG lady shut your pie hole and try to sleep like the rest of us!!!

Dear So and So...I Am Way to Used to Living in the Country

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 07:00:00 +0000

Dear Drivers on I526,

The left hand lane is a passing lane! You should not cruise in the FAST lane. 45 mph is not acceptable in the FAST lane. For the love of baby unicorns and rainbows get your buttocks out of the way!

Damn IT MOVE!!, Kat

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Dear KiKi,

In the immortal words of Whitney Houston, "Crack is whack!"

BOBBAY!!! (thanks Jess), Kat

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Dear Captain Dumbass,

Thanks for taunting me with your enchiladas. Asshat.

I still don't have my crab legs and had to eat pizza, Kat

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Dear Hackers,

If you could tell me how to be able to get Hulu when I am back in the UK I would be much obliged.

Thanks, Kat

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Dear Readers,

I'm baaaack! If your playing along don't forget to add your link with Mr. Linky!

Smooches!, Kat

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Wordless Wednesday- Charleston

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 07:00:00 +0000

RTT- Vacation Random

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 07:00:00 +0000

It's Tuuuuuuesday! Throw your hands all up in the air and wave 'em like you just don't care...oh and click on the fabulous purple button to get the rest of the days random from the master of random Keely.

So, my mother's dog, Puppy, he doesn't understand that the backyard is "outside". If you are out there and you say "do you want to go outside?" he runs to the front door.

My mother has figured out how to figure out if KiKi has been in a room...if the light is on, she has been there. My mom goes through the house turning off lights and KiKi is right behind her turning them all back on again. Vicious cycle people.

On Sunday we went to CharlesTown Landing, which is where the first settlement of Charleston was located. We got some very pretty pictures while we were down there.

KiKi does NOT like to be called Coconut Head. Just a warning.

So I went to a concert at a church in the middle of the sticks on Sunday night. I was riding with my mom, my granny, my aunt and the pastor's wife of my mothers church. The pastors wife was driving. So we were looking for this street and by our calculations off of mapquest we knew it was coming up. We were also battling the sun which was very strong and setting on the horizon, making the street signs VERY difficult to read. So we ALMOST missed our turn...going about 45 miles an hour. Basically the preacher's wife did a power slide into the church parking lot. It was awesome.

It isn't a party at my parents in laws house until someone tells someone to get the beer out of the family photo...at a baby shower. Or shall we call it a baby-que..half baby shower half barbeque. Basically we all sat around told my sister in law her cute her belly was, ate massive amounts of BBQ and drank some beers (of course she didn't drink, duh), ate cake, and opened presents. Good times had by all.

Ok I am randomed out. Stay tuned for more updates. More pictures tomorrow. I'm out ya'll, have a fabulous Tuesday!

Hall Pass!

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 12:26:00 +0000

Have you guys met Jess? You know my crazy ass friend down in Savannah; the one I have been promising to visit for almost a year now? I finally got down there to visit. Ya see, Savannah is literally less than a two hour drive from Charleston, so when I got the invitation, I was all over it like a fat kid on cake. I just had to sort childcare and transportation. You know since I didn't want to pull a "Sweet Home Alabama" and have someone say "You have a baby....in a bar...."

Anyhoo, I drove down there Thursday afternoon and met Jess at her work (after my GPS lost the satellites and I had to call Jess saying "I am lost! Where there hell am I. Lucky for me I was only a couple of blocks down past her work) and gave her a ride home. There I met Bobby, my older gay musical twin brother, and Krystal, who is entirely too sweet for words. Eventually Larkin and Master Wog showed up and we headed out to River Street in Savannah. Well, actually we headed to The Bar Bar. Got some deeply discounted drinks from Jess' buddy Christine, who is a bartender there. Definitely off to a good start there.

Next we had a walk down to River Street, where I composed this little letter in my head: "Dear Homeless People of Savannah, No I do not have any spare money. You see I have this thing called a bank account, which gives me this thing called a debit card which allows me to buy this thing in my hand called beer. Now, If I gave you money it would give me less money for this thing in my hand called beer. Go get a job, and quit begging the tourists (and locals) for money. Seriously! Kat.

On river street we also went to this place called the echo circle, where you stand in the middle of this circle of pavement, that is surrounded by a brick boarder and trees and OMGoodness your voice echos back to you and it is really trippy. After that we headed off to our actually destination Bay Street Blues so we could get down to the business at hand (writing peoples names on the wall).

For Captain Dumbass

After Bay Street blues we met up with Mitzy (if you count now we have four bloggers together plus our entourage) then headed down to Blaine's. Awesome awesome awesome gay bar in Savannah where Larkin, Jess and Bobz sang karaoke. Which I would have totally done but SOME PEOPLE didn't wait for me to see the book with them...nevermind the fact that I was probably at the bar getting another beer..(umm hello, $10 all you can drink beer!). They were fabulous anyway and made shout outs to me on stage, which means they are completely forgiven.

Anyone wanna Shoop?

Don't cha wish you girlfriend was hot like me?

When I finally fell asleep on the magic couch, after the best biscuits and gravy EVER, I may or may have not been really drunk (thank you, $10 all you can drink beer at Blaine's) and I had definitely had one of the best nights in my life. I finally met in person some of my best buddies ever and had a complete blast. Now, if that isn't a ringing endorsement to go meet your "bloggy friends", I don't know what is. You will never know how much fun you could have until you try.

Notes From Charleston or How Jet Lag Made Me It's B*tch

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 14:10:00 +0000

So I have always been on of those people who thought Jet Lag was more mind over matter. I believed I could WILL myself not to be jet lagged. I was wrong. I was so so so so very wrong. The first three days that I was here I felt like I had sawdust in my eyes and was extremely lethargic. I pretty much just wanted to sit on my mothers couch and veg, which of course is not an option. In fact my mother decided to spring the extra fun treat of a dental appointment (she is a dental assistant) in on me yesterday (but that is another story for another day).

My general tiredness has been exponentially increased by the fact that KiKi thinks that 4am is an appropriate time to wake up and play Nintendo DS. Oh yes, imagine my joy. Bask in my joy. Compound this by the fact that when LaLa is extremely tired she has night terrors and talks in her sleep. Last night she slept walked. Thankfully I was still awake and caught her before she reached the stairs. Another positive is that it gave me the opportunity to make her use the bathroom again before I went to bed.

This morning though, I am determined not to let my tired body get in the way of a good time. We are headed down to the battery and white point gardens so my kids can see the harbor and chase pigeons in the park (all be it they are puny pigeons compared to England (cause oh my goodness the pigeons in England are the size of a chicken)). Then we will head to Auntie A's house for some well deserved baked goods and spoiling. I will of course post pictures as soon as possible!

Picture of The Battery (harbor) in Charleston not taken by me, but gives an idea of where we are going...

RTT- I Thought When I Had More Sleep I Would Actually Be Able to Think

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 12:17:00 +0000

Last night LaLa had a nightmare right as I was getting into bed and took off like a running banshee in the pitch dark. I think she ran smack into the dresser and I found her on the ground in the corner between the dresser and the bed, screaming at the TOP OF HER LUNGS.

Happy Tuesday, People. Go click the pretty purple button to go to Keely's place and play along!

I forgot how much radio sucks in the States. Thank goodness for Radio 1 online.

I have driven twice since being here and so far have NOT tried to drive on the left hand side of the road. Which in my mind is a huge success because it feels really weird at this point. The first few times when I was riding in the car, mentally I was turning into the left hand side of the road.

I might have brought the cold weather to SC. Sorry, folks, no more shorts for you!

Speaking of cold...my mom keeps this house like an ice box at night. I may need to invest in a big huge fluffy duvet. Her aversion to turning on the heat is baffling.

I see a computer program on my parents shelf called "Instant Immersion 33 Languages"...I wonder if it has British English?

Looking back at my school pictures, the 90s was a horrible decade for my hair.

Travel Tale or Why I said My Child Smelled Like a Homeless Person

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 10:46:00 +0000

We have arrived! My girls and I are in Charleston, SC for the next two weeks. I am so excited to be home. It was an extremely long trip. Our own little version of Planes, Trains and Automobiles. We started out Saturday morning with a taxi to the bus station, then the bus ride to Heathrow Airport in London, then an 8 hour flight to Washington, DC and then an hour flight to Charleston. I must say it was all rather uneventful until the last hour of our first flight.

LaLa fell asleep in her seat next to my brother and directly across the aisle from me. Well, she must have been sleeping pretty hard because she had a potty accident. Yeah, she peed all over herself. I tried to clean her up as best as I could considering I didn't have any clean jeans for her to change into with me (lesson learned). I laid a blanket over the wet seat and she calmed down enough to sit still for the rest of the flight. When we stood up to deplane, she stood up next to me and the smell nearly knocked me down. She was rancid. I looked at my brother and started giggling. He looked at me like I had lost my mind and then I said it..."She smells like a homeless person" Then he lost it. Yes, it might not have been the most sensitive thing to say, but dang it, it was true!

As we deplaned we put our plan of cleaning up into action. We got through customs, grabbed our checked baggage, then I grabbed new pants and underwear to change LaLa. I took her to the first woman's restroom I could find and changed her. We then rechecked our baggage and headed to go find the gate for our next flight.

The next flight was on a commuter plane and was really quick. As we were descending into Charleston, I saw shrimpers putting their boats into the Wando River, the local 16 theater cinema, and other landmarks that I could recognize from the air. I started to get nostalgic for about 2.5 seconds. Then I realized that I was so tired from not sleeping on any of the flights that my eyes were about to burst into flames or fall out of my head. All I wanted was to land, find my parents, find my bags, go home and go to sleep; and that is what I did.

Shopping in the UK

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 06:58:00 +0000

My bud, NFAH has kindly fulfilled my request to be my guest poster today on literally 4 days notice. Short notice? No problem. "Oh and do you want a tour of the town I live in while you are at it?" she asked. To which I replied "Of course you silly cow!" (or something of that sort)... So I am actually off with her getting a tour of her town with my brother while she is posting here. It is amazing how she can be two places at once. The wonders of the internet! So without further ado....Not From Around Here or as I call her NFAH.

I have joked that in the UK, many shops are so specializes that one has to go to a banana store to find a banana. Now that was a tongue-in-cheek thing to say, but in some ways it is true. My local "high street" has a string of specialist shops, and I could go to Ryman for a printer cartridge, Lakeland for a new nonstick frying pan, Boots for lipstick, Oddbins for a bottle of wine, Next for new socks and Sainsbury's for a pint of milk. I exaggerate slightly for effect, but I would definitely say that the biggest difference between shopping in the US and the UK is the sheer number of stores I visit in the average month. In the US, I would often see only a Target and a Byerly's or Rainbow grocery store in most months; the two stores were often in the same vicinity so I could park the car once and do all my shopping in one place. I might occasionally venture out to a mall for clothes, but I did not stop off at so many small shops in the course of an average week.

I'm not meaning to imply that there are no department stores in the UK. A relatively new John Lewis superstore is within walking distance for me, and I have bought a ball gown, a purse, shoes, kitchen sponges, drain un-clogger and a coffee machine there. They even have the same sort of "Michael Graves for Target" stuff. So I'm not complaining. Just noting that on my early arrival, I had to learn to find the larger, American style one-stop-shopping stores that I was used to.

I know people could complain at this stage that I am missing the point and that I should be frequenting the multitude of mini-shops run by Britain's nation of shopkeepers instead of seeking out the "one stop shopping" options. I'm sure I would find it more amusing IF I DIDN'T HAVE A JOB. A job that requires me to actually work all day. When the little stores are open only from 10-5:30 Mon-Sat or thereabouts. It's just not practical. I do indeed finding myself taking a few hours out of the normal work day when there is an errand I need to run and it's not going to be possible in the evening or weekend. And this makes me sigh. Target was open until 10 pm seven days a week, and the grocery stores were open 24 hours in the states.

Lest I seem too despondent, let me fill you in on the shopping secret that makes Britain beautiful. Washable suits. The Next store in my neighborhood now provides all of my work clothes, and were I to move back to the US I would have to take frequent trips back to the UK to buy more clothes. The local dry-cleaning shops are open the same restrictive hours as many of the other shops, so that was never going to work with my Ann Taylor clothes or my Banana Republic suits. And my environmental self hated to dry clean anything and preferred washable clothes but I had no option in the US. Dress for work is generally more formal here, and I have no choice but to dress up in suits most days to fit in. But Next sells (Hillary-Clinton-Style) pantsuits that are fully machine washable and I love them. Especially because they are a big enough chain to stock petites, which means I can buy things and wear them straight away. At five feet tall (I have no idea what that is in meters/metres, sorry!) I need petites. And I love my new English clothes. So it is yet another case of not wrong, just different, (link iota's blog of that name) and things are sometimes better and sometimes worse in one country or the other.

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Dear Everyone,

I didn't do Dear So and So... this week but if you did feel free to link up!

Kat

Captain Dumbass Makes Me Grilled Cheese

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 08:06:00 +0000

I went to London and all I got was this cheesy guest post from Captain Dumbass. Yummy yummy grilled cheese. Feel free to go over to his place and check out other grilled cheese art.

Gah! Red Kryptonite!

Wordless Wednesday- London Calling

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 07:18:00 +0000

The Great Pumpkin Carving Adventure

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 07:00:00 +0000

Since my brother is still busy running me about England (we're in London today), I've asked my buddy Pollyanna from Life Makes Me Laugh to invade The Bungalow and leave her mark...on short notice of course, cause that's how we roll 'round here. She came up in spades and is now on my "most cool" list (it is really exclusive). With out any further ado...

Iíve never been to the UK, let alone been personally invited into Katís place so this is quite an adventure!

Iím sooooo nervous. There is so much pressure in being a guest. Am I saying the right things? Does she care that I used all the hot water composing this in the shower (Iím not knowing for a short story)? Am I entertaining enough?

Anywho, enough with my neurosis, on with the show!

The days have grown colder and the leaves are starting to change. You know what that means? Itís time to go on the annual pilgrimage to the pumpkin patch!

This also means Iím going to have a sticky, gooey, stringy mess in my kitchen. Of which, apparently only I have the ability to clean up. My kids (including Hubby) are sticking with the belief that itís not Halloween unless pumpkins are carved ñ not painted, CARVED.

Carving pumpkins then:

When I was a kid, you got a pumpkin you could barely carry and set it on the porch. A few days before Halloween you would spread a ton of newspapers all over the kitchen table and drag over the trash can. Dad had the butcher knife and jammed it into the top, making a fairly smooth circle with a little notch (so you knew which way the top fit back on). Everyone got their hands dirty pulling the ìgutsî out. My mom was in charge of rinsing off all the seeds and setting them out to dry so we could bake them up later. Somehow, we managed to scrape out all the yick with only a serving spoon before Dad jammed the knife into the face. We got triangle eyes & nose and a crooked smile with one or two teeth. Pop a candle inside & you were done! All of this took about an hour.

Carving pumpkins today:

While picking out the largest pumpkin we can afford, and the guts scooping hasnít changed much, the carving part has become much more sophisticated.

You can no longer use ordinary kitchen tools to empty and carve your pumpkin. There are special scrapers with short handles and beveled edges for efficiency. A half circle gear looking thing with really pointed teeth will help you trace the outline of the face youíre going to carve. Then you have the serrated tools with thin, very breakable blades for carving. How these are better, I donít know.

Now, a simple face is no good. You gotta keep up with the Jonesí, so you have to scour the internet for the best, but yet achievable by your skill level, pumpkin carving template. After finding the ìrightî template and printing it to a size that fits your pumpkin, you have to painstakingly outline the design through the template using your dangerously sharp teeth tool. Finally, youíre ready to use the knife.

I, on the other hand, had a different idea. I had seen pumpkins in a magazine where they stuck golf tees thru the shell. The end result was that they glowed with the word ìBooî. They were so stinkiní cute!

Turns out, scooping out all the gunk from inside the pumpkin is a pain in the rump. Itís kind of like child birth, as soon as the event is over, you forget how terrible the whole ordeal was. And every year, we go through the same thing ñ buy a few pumpkins to carve and end up only doing one because once we got started, the memories came flooding back (and the back ache from hunching over a pumpkin).

Anywho, I got the ìBî pumpkin emptied, and there was no way I was going through that two more times for the ìoî, ìoî.

Now what?

Hmmmm, how about just a bunch of holes? Yah, that would be cute!

Golf tees, where are the golf tees?

We didnít have any.

But I had an ice pick!

It was quite therapeutic. I stabbed that pumpkin!

And I stabbed!

And stabbed!

And stabbed! Ooooo, what fun!

When I was finished, I trotted off to the bathroom with my holey pumpkin and a candle. I lit it up to see my creation in all its glory.

I was quite disappointed. You could only see a glow coming from the back of the pumpkin ñ where the big hole was for the candle. The holes had basically self-healed after sticking the ice pick in.

I blew out the candle, picked up my pumpkin and headed back to the kitchen. Obviously, the holes needed to be larger.

I stuck the ice pick back into the holes already created and swirled it around in an attempt to make the holes larger. Even before going back to the bathroom, I could tell they probably werenít going to be big enough. But in true Pollyanna fashion, I had to go check.

Trotting to the bathroom . . .

OK ñ this time I could at least see a slight glow coming from the holes. But there was no way anyone was going to be able to see it from the bottom of the front porch steps, let alone the street or sidewalk.

I needed bigger holes. What could I use to make bigger holes?

I got it!

I ran down to the basement for my drill. º inch drill bit should do it.

Wzshzshzshzshzsh.

You get the picture. Iíd go on, but there were at least 50 holes and I just donít think ìwzshzshzshzshzshî would be effective that many times. Ultimately, each hole was now a nice size.

Trotting to the bathroom . . .

BEAUTIFUL!

Well, at least it was interesting.

Silver Lining:

Anytime you can say you used power tools to carve a pumpkin is just gosh darn AWESOME!

The kids are still small so the pumpkin ritual will continue for years to come. Wonder how Iíll top this. . .

Every Single One of Us The Devil Inside

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 07:00:00 +0000

My brother has me roaming around England (Norwich) today, so I have left you in the very capable hands of ...For A Different Kind of Girl, my homegirl from Iowa. I am sure she will leave you completely entertained while I am off storming the castle. FADKOG, make sure they wipe their feet and put the cans in the recycle bin when they leave.

In the spirit of Halloween, my youngest son will be attending junior worship at church Sunday dressed as an adorable little devil.

Yes, because i would bathe in irony if possible, the beauty of this is not lost on me. If you know me, you know I don't exactly walk very evenly down the path of righteousness. I find it fun to stumble a little here and there. However, my husband is filled with the kind of Christian goodness I didn't think was possible to acquire when I picked up this smashingly cute costume on clearance (natch!) at Target (my idea of heaven, btw) two seasons ago. It suits the boy's nature.

That's right. When my sweet little boy isn't acting all devilish the rest of the year (the kid can rock some 'devil horns' with his hands when he becomes all possessed, and yes, I'll proudly admit to teaching him how to do it. Sticking out his tongue as far as he can is an ongoing lesson), he gets to put on the official Satan uniform a few times each October. Dapper red suit. Adorably pointy tail. Shiny black horns. The child rocks that look.

"Yeah, um, can't he be the gorilla again?" my husband asks, assuming the hot, heavy, furry gorilla suit i had for our son since he was a baby will once again illicit 'ooos and ahs' from our church family. "Seriously. Must he be the devil? It's church, for heaven's sake!"

(For heaven's sake. Get it? That's why I love that man...)

To see this child and to ponder that question is to think, 'Well....duh!' This charming little boy is sneaky, snarky and straight up evil at times.

In a cute way, mind you. He is a product of my creation.

And so, in reply, I offer a "Hell no he can't be an ape! We're totally kicking ass in that devil costume."

(and yes, I tossed in my own version of the 'devil horns' and tongue when I said it, too).

My youngest will not be a hobo, clown, super hero or pirate. We're doing this devil thing with gusto. If I'm to burn in hell, as my husband seems to think I'm sometimes going to anyway, it's so going to be for things other than my child's Halloween costume.

But I bet the polyester goodness of the costume will get those flames burning pretty quick.

(Besides, the gorilla costume? In church? Screams of Darwinism. Devil it is!)

Dear So and So...You Lookin at Me?

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 07:23:00 +0000

Dear Offspring,

I know your daddy is out of town. Believe me, I am very aware. You do not need to make me more aware of it. In fact refrain from the following in order to make life more tollerable:

1. Whining

2. Crying

3. Whining, crying and saying "I want Daddy!" (Daddy wouldn't give you what you want anyways...ok maybe he would but still)

4. Hitting

5. Complaining (Yes, you do have to come with me to the base real quick. I can't just leave you at the house).

7. Not doing what you are told the first time. (I know you can hear me!)

8. Tattling.

9. Snubbing the menu. (That is what we are having for dinner, get over it!)

10. Destroying the house.

Get it? Got it? Good.

Love, Mom

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Dear Elizabeast,

Stop tipping the garbage in the kitchen!! Argh! I know you are on a diet because you are a fatty, but really it is for your own good. I can't stand waking up in the morning to rubbish strewn from the kitchen to the living room. It is maddening. So ether quit doing it or grow opposable thumbs and learn to clean it up yourself.

It's too dang early for this, Kat

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Dear Mums at Preschool,

We have this weird dynamic since we all arrive to drop off our kids at different times in the morning. There are a few who talk and then those of you who act like you are on a commando mission. Get in, drop off kid, get out and nobody gets hurt. You might become blog fodder. Apologies in advance.

*snicker*, Kat

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Dear Weather,

Next time we do this warm to cold shift, can we make it a little slower. 75 degree to 50 degree temperature shifts in two days wreaks havoc on my body. Oh but on the plus side, I smelled someone burning in their wood heater. I love the smell of a good ol fire. Heaven.

Respectfully requesting, Kat

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Dear Readers,

I hope you have a lovely weekend. If you are going to participate, link up and let everyone read you letters. It is a great way to start your weekend.

Love, Kat

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The UK Explained

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 10:12:00 +0000

I often have found myself trying to explain to my American friends back home the dynamics of the UK. Thankfully I found this over at Almost American's blog. I think it pretty much sums it up.

Expanding Your Vocabulary...or Maybe Shrinking It

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 08:40:00 +0000

When I moved to the UK I expected to pick up new words. What I didn't expect was to start actually using them in conversation, a lot. What I have found is that it is a lot easier to use "British" words when talking to people around here. First off, the Brits understand when I use words they are familiar with. The Americans here have also adapted and are used to hearing these words as well, so you don't have to explain to them either. Thus, more effective, especially in mixed company. By mixed company I mean both Brits and Americans.

This whole phenomenon has also lead to another quirky thing. I am forgetting American terms. Well maybe not as much forgetting, but when I am talking to an American in the States sometimes I have to search for the right word. I can't very well tell them I am having chips with dinner when I clearly am talking about french fries. They will think potato chips or crisps rather.... I tell my kids to "bung it in the bin". Yeah that means "throw it in the trash". Oh and rubbish is trash. I yell "OY!" at the kids when I want to get their attention instead of "Hey".

OK, so I just looked up in the first paragraph and saw that I used the term "as well"; very British. If I was talking to an American I would have said also. Or the word "proper". I say proper all the time. I just can't even help it. It has permeated my life. I am not complaining by any means. I am just looking for a few strange looks when I visit the States in a few weeks.

Oh and there is one word I will NEVER say here. Bloody. It just sounds really wrong coming out with an American accent. But I can bloody well type it!

RTT- I am So So Sore

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 08:40:00 +0000

It's Tuesday. WOOT WOOT! Leeeeets get ready to raaaaaandooooooom! If you haven't heard by now, this little slice of random is brought to you by the one and only UnMom, Keely. Go Check her out by clicking the purple button of random doom.

So, I am in the middle of packing my house. Basically it looks like a moving company came into my house and puked up boxes, packing tape and white packing paper. My husband, because of his schedule (and the fact that he isn't even in the country right now), has only packed one box. Yes, that means I am packing the entire house by myself. I am woman, hear me roar! Ok, not so much roar as whimper and then go find the Aspercream. Oh my goodness my back is sore.

My brother is coming to visit on Saturday. The last time I saw him was about a year ago. He had a beard and seriously looked like Vladimir Lenin. I hope it hasn't changed because I love calling him Andy Leninovich. The -vich on the end of Russian names means son of so and so. Just thought you should know that. Oh and photographic proof....

Vladimir Lenin- Leader of the Communist Revolution in Russia

Andy- Brother, non-revolutionary (that I know of).

So I have Skype. I introduced it to my husband for our long separations. Then my mom and dad got wind. Then my grand parents. My aunt soon followed. She refers to it as the George Jetson phone.

Dude, Amazon just paid some kid $150,000 because his Kindle at his homework. A Kindle, for those of you who don't know is a portable device to download books to. Amazon had a snafu earlier this year when they had to delete George Orwell's "1984" off of peoples Kindles because the company they went through to get the copy of the book did not have the publishing rights. As the article points out, the irony of Amazon playing Big Brother and deleting THAT BOOK....yeah kinda funny.

Elizabeth just growled at cartoon puppies on the TV. My dog is whacked.

Anyhoo, I am all out of random and need to get back to packing. Ya'll be good. Use your manners and for heavens sake, quit hitting your sister.

Dear So and So...Don't Tempt Me

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 11:00:00 +0000

Dear Chocolate Birthday Cake,

I see you over there. Calling to me with your siren song of chocolately goodness. The ooey gooey goodness of your buttercream frosting will not tempt me. Mmmmmm cake. So so yummy.... No I will not give in. You are evil. Maybe just one slice. Or two. You win.

In Heaven,

Kat

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Dear Life,

BUGGER! BUGGER! BUGGER!!!! Throw me a frickin bone here!

Seriously. Kat

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Dear Unfortunate Looking Lady,

I am really sorry that you look like the Edgar, the guy that got taken over by the alien in Men in Black...but could you get your Land Rover in gear and drive the thing? Seriously it is the long skinny one on the right. Put your foot on it and press, that make the car go. For goodness sake!

Move It!, Kat

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Dear The Man,

Have fun on your TDY. We'll see ya in a month. We have plenty of things we will be doing to keep busy; visit from my brother, visit to mom's house. We'll be fine. Take care of yourself.

Love You, Kat

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Dear Readers,

If you are taking part in Dear So and So, don't forget to link up!

Love Ya!! Kat

It's 7PM...What is Your Child Doing?

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 08:57:00 +0000

Mine is making a caterpillar out of apples and tangerines for her school harvest festival.

Fail.

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 10:43:00 +0000

Two fails, two days. Well, at least I am averaging 100%. So yesterday was my husbands birthday. My awesome, handsome, loving, forgiving husband's birthday. Yeah. I was convinced it was today. I DID however figure it out at 3:30pm yesterday that I was completely wrong. Thankfully I already had his present (non-fail) but I hadn't baked him a cake (fail). So, after I picked up LaLa from school I hauled my massive failing bootay to the commissary and picked up a cake, some icing, and candles. Total fail averted.

This morning, KiKi was pitching a fit because she didn't want to go to school. I made her go anyway; crying, kicking and screaming. Mommy fail. I asked how she did when I picked her up this afternoon. She had quit crying as soon as I left her classroom. Ya know, after making me feel like a complete failure as a parent. Parenting fail redeemed.

I'm The Storyteller

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 08:35:00 +0000

I can't help it apparently. Maybe blogging led to it. I am a storyteller. Not like made up fantasy stories. I didn't even realize it. We had gone to look at houses and were buddied up with our estate agent, Mr. NotATotalButtmunch. I guess I told him a story. I can't remember. It all happens without me fully knowing apparently. So my husband and I are in the car on the way back to The Bungalow and my husband quipped, "You did it again."

"Did what?"

"You told him a story."

"Did I?"

"Yeah"

"Well, I can't help it."

"I know."

Well as long as we have that settled then.

50 Years!

noreply@blogger.com (Kat) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 07:52:00 +0000

My Granny and PaPa have been married 50 years! Happy Anniversary you crazy lovebirds!

*Their anniversary isn't until Oct 2 but I got so excited when I got the pictures this morning I just had to share them!