These boots were made for walkin'

I know this is an old picture you've probably seen before but I believe now is the time to bring it out again.
I was driving home from work this morning and the corner gas station was changing the prices.
I had to rub my eyes and make sure I was seeing it right. . .

$3.19!!!!
I do still live in Nebraska right???

I guess I'll get out my walkin' boots.

It was bound to happen. . .

Ok, I knew someday someone would come along and dash the dreams of my child. Who knew it would be at age 6 1/2??


Madison started 1st grade today. At her school they do something called Sheridan (the name of the school) Camp a few weeks before school starts, for the kindergarteners and 1st graders, where they get to go for a few days in the morning to get ready for their new teacher, classroom, etc. Madison loves her new teacher, Mrs. Clark. She had a great 3 days, sitting in the little chairs at the little tables, doing dot to dot, listening to stories, writing a story, seeing old friends, meeting new friends, and then it happened. She came home with a note on her last day of Sheridan camp and said Mom, you have to read this. It was a welcome to 1st grade letter from all of the teachers. It talked about how excited they were. . . . . . . . then it came.

"With the hot weather, shoes are a concern. We respectfully ask that flip flops and sandals without backs, NOT be worn at school. This becomes as issue of safety on the stairs, on the playground and in the gym."

Let it be known that we are a flip-flop family, as you can easily see from the picture. My children would wear flip-flops all year round, if they could. Last winter Molly and Madison managed to always have a pair hidden somewhere and would at least wear them around the house and try to get out the door with them on, even with a foot of snow on the ground.
So after I read the letter and assured her life would go on, the DRAMA ensued!! She called her friend Libby, and a fellow flip-flop lover, and they went on and on about the "traumatic event."

After a few hours of pouting (this is a highly specialized skill from my husbands side of the family), being the shopping mother that I am, I told her we could go that very night and find some new shoes. We found some cute sandals (with backs!!) and some of those 'crocs' shoes (kinda ugly but hey, they had a back on them, and they were pink!) The whole time we were shopping, her eyes would well up with tears and she said "Mom, I just keep thinking about the flip-flops!" Oh, the flip-flops that would never be. The flip-flops that would be lonely on those days until their delightful owner snatches them up at 3:39 pm, the minute after school lets out!! Last night she said, "Mom, I just realized. . . Now the ONLY day I can wear flip-flops is on Saturday!!! (I do somehow manage to make them wear their nice white "church sandals" on Sunday.)

I somehow think she'll survive without them. She'll come bouncing out of her classroom with new crafts and stories and pictures she's made. She'll dance around with her new friends and old friends and not even realize that her beloved flip-flops were left at home.

I surprised myself

Ok, just a quick post. . . I'm hoping you have noticed my little "Flickr" box up there? See it? With the cute little pictures??? Ok, I kind of surprised myself that I figured that out. I was actually shocked that when all was said and done, the little box appeared just like it was supposed to! When I put it in the "template" portion, I just kind of guessed where it was supposed to go, so that's where the Flickr box ended up. Who knows? Maybe next time it'll be under my profile or something. . . So go ahead and click on it and you can see some of my photos, I'm sure I'll be adding more. . . and it was kinda fun, this could get dangerous.

There's something for everyone

So, I was at the library this morning. I got there a few minutes before it opened and found quite a crowd. Who knew that this many people had urgent business at the library on a Saturday morning? Anyway, I noticed an older woman (80+), step in the building just before the doors opened. She was wearing a nice navy mu-mu type dress, and some comfy shoes (SAS, I'm sure). She smiled at me and I smiled back. As I was checking on the computer to see if they had my book, I noticed her out of the corner of my eye, looking through some paperbacks. She picked up 3 or 4 of them, then headed for the check out. After she had walked away I glanced up at the labeled portion of the paperback holder. What did it say you ask? Romance.

It's MOVING Day!!

My hubby works for State Farm, and they always have great 'car' pictures sent around the office. Here's some he forwarded me today. I'm amazed the tires are still intact, but hey, look, they're right--duct tape works for everything!!! And hey, is that a GEO???

Who Knew??



so, I was roaming around the blogging world. I'm an admitted blogging eavesdropper--"my name is Wendy and I'm a blogging eavesdropper. Everyone now. .. "HI WENDY." I wander from one post to another and find another one from a comment. ANYWAY, I came across one that now, of course, I can't find again. It was about the funny situation you find yourself in when you're chatting with someone in the bathroom, then do you carry on the conversation while your in the stall? Or wait? Or what? So, credit goes to that person for my idea for this blog. Thanks!

While we were on vacation in Florida with my siblings, spouses and kids we were at Sea World. Some of us decided we'd better use the bathroom before another ride on "Krackin'" the roller coaster. Krackin' is exactly what it does to your back, but it's an awesome ride. So off we go. I was done and waited for my husband and brother in law Jon. They walked out of the restroom together, not something you usually see guys do. So, I had to ask. "So do you guys like stand next to each other in there or what?" Apparently there are rules about a guys bathroom! So, as a public service to all you ladies out there, I'll lay it out for you, because now, I'm an expert!

1. As you enter the bathroom, take a look at the urinals. Let's pretend there are 5 urinals. If no one is there, you take the one farthest from the door (#5)

2. If someone is already at the farthest one, then you take the closest one--#1 (so you are as far away from the other guy as possible).

3. Now, it gets tricky. If the last spot and the first spot are taken you may, in an emergency, take urinal #3. If in the rare case it's busy in there, and #1,3 and 5 are taken, you WAIT! Don't take that #2 or #4 slot, or you may be labeled as a freak. (This was odd to me since in any sporting event, guys are not shy about slapping each other on the behind, etc. So, who would care if someone's standing right next to you while you take care of things?? But, I guess this may be the ONE situation when the guys are modest???)

4. This may be the most important rule--Whatever you do, do not move your eyes below eye level. Or as Matt explained, "Do not look down!" So, you drop your keys. .. don't look down! Have to sneeze?? Keep that head up! Need to tie your shoe? Wait please!

I hope you are now more informed. . . and hey, Who Knew???

p.s. I spent WAY too long picking out my "favorite" urinal picture from google!! (This one is from the Taj Mahal in India! Just becuase I knew you were wondering!!)

Who are the people in your neighborhood?

(come on, all you Sesame Street lovers. . . in your neighborhood, in your neigh-bor-hooooood, Who are the people in your neighborhood, they're the people that you meet each day. .. )


There's just something about living so close to another person, it has to be written about. Matt and I have been married for 10 1/2 years and have lived in 2 apartments before buying our home (we've been here about 6 1/2 years). Our first apartment was like any other newly married couple. Let's just say we lived on love, because there wasn't room for much else in that place. We were there for about 7 months but oh, the neighbors we had. We were on a ground level apartment not far from "Salt Creek". Let's just say when you were just a few short blocks away, you could say, "we're getting close, I can smell it." Mmmmm, breathe in the sulfur. We were in a corner apartment so technically we only had one "neighbor". At one time in his life he was a famous Nebraska Cornhusker football player (actually won the Heisman trophy--we haven't had too many from Nebraska so you may be able to narrow it down). Now a days. . . . not so much. Let me begin this by saying he was always very nice to us, just not so nice to the guests in his apartment. I don't know why those who like to yell and rant and rave choose to do so at such a late hour. His favorite time started at 11 pm or so and DID NOT STOP until well after 4am!!! This was almost every night!! Perhaps he was upset that he was now a "has-been" or that he had to drive a run down, beat up Chevy sedan, but come on!!!
Let's not leave this apartment memoir without recalling the millions of parties that took place at this complex (far too close to the University campus), and our car was "bumped" more than a couple times by the drunks headin' home. Gotta love those confident drunks---"I'm not even close to that car!"

Ok, apartment number two, located in "the hood", if there is such a thing in Lincoln, Nebraska. It was a six-plex apartment building and hey the rent was cheap, it was a big apartment and they let us keep our cat. You'll find out later why I was glad we had a cat in the apartment! (Oh, the suspense is killing you, isn't it?) So let's begin with the Mexican family that lived below us. . . Don't get me wrong, I'm all for culture, but not in the form of huge parties with everyone singing Spanish Karaoke!! All night!! They would cook in their little bbq (you know, the ones that are just about 12 inches in diameter, and 2 inches off the ground) right out on the front lawn, which was on 27th street, one of the busiest streets in Lincoln, then party all night. So, several times we went down and banged on the door, or stomped on the floor, but to no avail. But I tell you, the moment I brought home a treadmill, they were right up banging on our door. I guess I should've just waited to exercise until Midnight when the party was reaching it's frenzy!!! I do still use that excuse to not exercise (oh, I don't want to wake or bother the neighbors!)
Alrighty, the apartment right across from us. . . they were fairly nice, didn't cause much trouble but the smoke that seaped through the walls of our "non-smoking apartment!" The worst was the bathroom. I tell you, if I ever did want to get a little buzz, I could just go hang out in the bathroom for about 2 minutes and I'd be fully loaded!!
Onto the next, upstairs. The drug addict guy, mentally handicapped wife (I think), and 1 year old boy. I know you think I'm making this up.. . . but I have several family members that could testify on my behalf! So all night long, during the mexican fiestas, people were up and down the stairs. .. hmm. . . our little good Mormon minds would wonder "what's goin' on??" Several times the lovely police department arrived at our apartment complex to drag him out. Matt would love to stand by the peephole of our door and watch the whole thing play out. . . he would always sing "Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you?" Matt, stop, I swear he's going to shoot us! I'm sure he always thought it was us that called them. Ok, maybe we did call, but only once or twice.
Now the apartment across from the pusher. . . she must've known our old neighbor. She would choose 3 am to fight out the window to the parking lot (which was right out our bedroom window) with her boyfriend. I think he liked to stand RIGHT UNDER our window! Maybe I was just being trained for my future children and being up all night.
Ok, thank goodness we had Smokey the cat. So, my guess is that someone, once upon a time, in our apartment building had hamsters. They must not have liked them, and left them behind, to dwell forever in the walls. (Maybe they escaped??) So for about 3 months, while on the computer in our 2nd bedroom, you would hear little scratches in the walls. Just enough to make you stop and listen and it would stop too. It got worse and worse and we got used to just pounding the wall to make it stop. One morning our fearless cat left us a gift outside our bedroom door. A dead hamster. I guess that hunter mentality was still intact. I wasn't sure what it was at first. It wasn't a mouse, or a rat.. . .so we decided maybe a hamster? Where the heck did she get a hamster? A few days later, in the living room, as we arrived home, another dead hamster. Boy, Smokey was a great hunter. Not that I liked having dead rodents, but better than live rodents. . . just wait. I think she caught one more, but I can't remember. A lovely Saturday afternoon, I was lying on the floor, Matt on the couch and Smokey was on a chair in the kitchen.
Matt says, "Wendy, don't look."
"What?"
"Don't look, just stay right there."
Of course I'm not going to just sit there, so I look to the kitchen.
Sauntering across the floor is a hamster. I look at Smokey and she is just lazily watching this thing cross our floor, I'm sure she is thinking, "Honestly guys, haven't I done enough around here? Do I have to keep killing these things? All the fun is just gone."
So Matt manages to catch the thing in a shoebox. Ok, now what? Matt calls a pet store to see what we should do. They guy that answered must've been having a great day. He suggested that we just let it go and watch the cat catch it. After a while, Matt says that she's already caught and killed 3 of them, and that his wife may not want to watch that happen. The guy finally says, we can bring it in and he'll "take care of it." Great. So we head off with our little shoebox, delivering this little thing to his death sentance at "The Pet Ark."

We love our neighborhood now. But each neighborhood has "it's thing." But that's for another blog. So, if you're keeping track so far (and still reading this), here are the people in my neighborhood---

Has been, yelling, Heisman Trophy winner
Countless drunk college students
Mexican karaoke loving, hibachi cooking, partying, haters of treadmills
Smokestacks across the hall
Drug dealer, et al
The Bickersons
4 forgotten hamsters

So, Who are the people in YOUR neighborhood?