Wordless Wednesday: Wheeee!

Zee tile es dun!

Mike is working hard on the wood floors. We're hoping to be done by the end of this week so we can clean and move in!! Horrah!

Fathers, Sons and Pompas

Lest ye all think I have gone completely tacky and crude, here are some pictures of Dave's first Fathers and Sons Campout last weekend. All he can talk about is "seepin' in da tent" now. He's roughin' it with that air mattress- a boy after my own heart!

Thinkin' bout fishin'.

And if it's your turn for girl's night cause all the boys are roughing it in the wilderness you might consider the 70's classic "Valley of the Dolls". That is- if you're in the mood for some campy, so-over-the-top-it's-funny drama. My mom has been trying to get me to watch it for years, and we finally bought the disc because we couldn't find it to rent anywhere. I had no idea I would find a 70's style expose on the ills of Hollywood so humorous, and certainly didn't realize it had such a huge fan following (especially with gay men). Note: This is definitely a girl's night movie as the main plot primarily consists of girls with big hair in their underwear. Not one for the hubbies. They won't want to watch it anyway.

Not So Wordless Wednesday

When someone checks into the ER they are given a slip to write down their name, age, date of birth and reason they are seeking care in the ER (or Chief Complaint). In my short career as an ER nurse, last night I saw one of my favorite Chief Complaints so far.

Sorry. It was tacky, but I had to.

Adios, ye olde scaffolding.

We took down our scaffolding today and I tried not to die climbing down in my flip flops. I had to get a picture on it so I could remember how scary it was. I like how the picture above makes my hand look as big as my head.. uh... wait... I just checked and I guess it is. Hehe he... heh.

Ode to a Fireplace (as promised).

There once was a little fireplace. It's tiles were neat and shiny.
Then Barb took out a sledgehammer and kicked it's little bohiney.
Mike gave it some paint and put new sheet rock up,
And found, inside the wall, a five year old cup. (yum).
A layer of concrete and some slate squares now meet in a neat-o new fireplace look.

Somewhere between Texas and Mexico

For all of you who were crying your eyes out that I haven't posted at all this week- fret no more! We are home in a safe condition with all limbs and vital organs intact (except for skin, that is). I meant to forewarn you all that we would be taking a mini-vaca this week to The Galveston Island (it sounds more tropical when you put a "the" in front...). It was a whirlwind trip that started by us staying up til 2:30 am to pack- so blogging got put on the backburner. But I'm still here. I haven't given up on blogging yet, although judging from the amount of comments in my "people who are neat-o" boxes lately, I'd say some of you may have given up on me. (That was really just a shameless plug for more comments). Who am I to judge? I need to be a better blog friend and comment buddy. Anyway- I'll let the rest of the pictures speak for themselves.

Feliz Dia de la Mamacita.

We were awakened this fine Mother's Day morn, to the musical stylings of an enthusiastic Mariachi Band. I thought I was dreaming (because you know how I like to stop on the Spanish radio stations while driving in the car), but alas- 'twas not a dream. Apparently it is a hispanic custom to hire a Mariachi band to play for your Mamacita on Mamacita's Day. Finding this out got me a little choked up... Much more thoughtful (and expensive, I assume) than the card and flowers I got for my Mamacita!

So to all the mothers I know out there (or those who would like to become mothers), watch out next year. If you hear some guitar and accordian wafting into your dream, you'll know who the culprit was. And if you don't hear it, you can still imagine it, and pretend it was me sending you a Mariachi-gram.

Frog Butt

We discovered a squatter at our house. I guess he thinks that since we still haven't moved in, he can have free reign. Well, I'll tell ya one thing... he's right! 'Cause I'm not touching him. We named him Morgan Ninny. Not because he bears any resemblance to our cherubic niece, but because sometimes a certain Pompa calls Morgan Ninny "Frog Butt". We are a creative lot.

I have some new pictures of the house to post. Mike is finishing the fireplace surround today and I have some exclusive pictures of the 'time capsule' we found in the wall behind that ugly ceramic tile. All the painting is done and we should be able to put our wood floors in soon. Hallelujah!

Mindless Monday

Dave [hearts] Bobby Boo

Prom Night '07.

Does it stand for Premature Rupture Of Membranes, or Postpubescent Raging Of 'Mones (hormones, that is) ? Whatever it stands for, we experienced it this weekend in all it's glory. That's right. We got all gussied up and went to Prom with my cousin Lindsey and her date. OK, not actual Prom, but we did participate in some traditional pre and post Prom activities. And we wore Prom attire. And elbow length gloves (although, these were removed prior to leaving the house in my case). I tried to make my hair fluffly and big and Prom like, but I think it just ended up looking Utah, instead.

Dave was bummed that he didn't have a tux. I told him he's too young to start dating.


Awaiting the Prom-goers at one of our favorite establishments.

What if, on Prom night, you came home to this? It gives staying up all night after Prom a whole new meaning.