the Hippo Brigade

My, What Skinny Faces You Have

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December 31, 2007

My ultra amazing friend Jenielle just sent me this photo this morning. It was taken right before I was engaged, and we were both skinny and we both had fantastic heads of hair. 

Things That Irritate Me:

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December 31, 2007

In no particular order of level of irritation:

• When people talk through their yawn. Do you honestly think that I can understand you? That was in no way intelligible, and you’re going to have to repeat yourself.
• The guys on the side of the street twirling signs to lure you into a housing development or a Little Caesar’s pizza.
• Small talk. I hate it. Don’t do it. It’s small and it’s silly, it should be called silly talk, or I don’t really care talk. or bull shit talk. You pick.
• When punctuation is incorrect. I’m no grammar instructor, but I at least know when to use proper punctuation–most of the time. And there should not be an apostrophe S after a last name unless it is possessive or a conjunction. Let me demonstrate: Sincerely, the Smith’s. This is wrong. There is no need for an ‘s after Smith. Trust me.
• Shania Twain songs. They don’t impressa me much.

Thank you for letting me vent. I feel much better now. Is there anything you would like to add?

Because Saying it in a Card Somehow Makes it Less Offensive

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December 31, 2007

For more sassy cards, click here

It’s Pat’s Birthday!

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December 29, 2007

The level of excitment I feel for Pat’s birthday can be best expressed in a haiku:

It is Pat’s birthday.

Pull out the banners and wave!

Hip- hooray for Pat!

Wow. Who knew I was so good at haikus?

Poetry may get me of the hook, but for the rest of you, I strongly urge you to send him an email, call him on the phone, and buy him lots of presents!

Ew, Sick.

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December 28, 2007

This year for Christmas Berlyn got her very first cold, complete with fever and waking up in the middle of the night. It was so exciting. She loved the runny nose and the sneezes. I never realized how astounding my job is as a mother until she got sick. She just wants mommy, and yes, sometimes daddy. She would wake up the the middle of the night screaming for me, and the second I picked her up, she would fall asleep in my arms. Oh, my heart swelled. When I thought she was good and asleep, I put her back in her crib, and she would scream again. This was a fun way to pass the time at 3 in the morning. On top of all that, Pat got sick too. So now I have to take care of sick baby and sick husband. Thankfully I am healthy, I don’t have any time to have a cold.

Dreaming of Leprechauns and Girl Fights

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December 27, 2007

Last night I dreamt. This is normal. I dream fantastical crazy dreams every night, and sometimes if they’re noteworthy, I’ll nudge my completely-dreamless-but-sleeping-nonetheless husband awake. I did this when I dreamt that all my teeth fell out and then a leprechaun came to eat them. And when I dreamt that my newborn baby was in the bed and tangled in the sheets. And I woke him up when I came up with Berlyn’s name.
Last night’s dream wasn’t cause to wake my sick husband, but interesting nonetheless. I dreamt that I went to my friend Melinda’s house for a party. It was her parent’s house, and they had just redone the crown moulding–might I just say, it looks fantastic. There were random people from high school there, like Taylor Kay Cahill and Jennifer Larson. I wore my brown bathing suit, naturally. We were all having a good time taking turns walking on the celling when Melinda and I got into a fight. Then it turned physical and we were throwing punches, or maybe it was just hair pulling. Someone yelled “GIRL FIGHT!” and suddenly we had an audience. We were both laughing at the silliness our fight had caused, but kept fighting because we both had a point to prove, and let’s face it, violence is the answer. Finally I pulled pepper spray out of some mystical pocket (remember, I’m still wearing my brown one piece), and sprayed her eyes. Immediately afterward I felt awful, and I was sent home by her dad…I didn’t even get to have a cupcake.
I always think about my dreams after I wake up and wonder what they mean. But this one seems dark…and a little lesbianic. Do I have resentment towards my dear friend Melinda? Do I want to put crown moulding up in my house? Do I even look good in a one piece?

To Melinda: I feel terrible for spraying you in the face. I hope you can forgive me, and maybe I can still get that cupcake?

Repeat the Sounding Joy!

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December 25, 2007

Joy to the world, the Lord is come!
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare Him room,
And Heaven and nature sing,
And Heaven and nature sing,
And Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing.

Joy to the earth, the Savior reigns!
Let men their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat, repeat, the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as, the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders, wonders, of His love.

Now quit looking at my website, and give your Aunt Millie a hug. And don’t forget to thank her for the kitty sweater–made with real cat hair.

Merry Christmas.

Is NASCAR on?

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December 24, 2007

As we were driving to Outback Steakhouse for an early Christmas dinner–what, your family doesn’t celebrate Christmas at Outback Steakhouse?? Weird. So, anyways, we were driving and my tooth fell out. I never knew I was white trash before, but now there’s no denying it. I might as well be cracking open a MGD and watching a tractor pull. Actually, my crown fell out. It wasn’t permanently cemented and I was smacking my gum and it fell out. I haven’t felt the sensation of a tooth falling out since I was 8, but there it was in my hand. It smelled awful. Ugh. But even worst than that is, how am I suppose to enjoy a steak dinner with my back molar missing?

I am Taking a Break from Cookie Making

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December 22, 2007

My feet are up, and I am mindlessly eating a wooden spoon with a slight sugary resemblance left on it. There is a giant cookie filled with marshmallows, caramel, and chocolate cooking away in the oven, I no longer fit into my skinny jeans because of that beast of a cookie. So fat, far, I’ve eaten enough dough/marshmallow/caramel to produce a considerably smaller cookie than I had formerly envisioned. There is also dough chilling in the fridge, and one in the freezer. I am sitting, something I haven’t done in 3 hours. I might be a little tipsy from the spiked hot chocolate I have been sipping at all night. but not too tipsy that I would melt my press-on nails to the baking sheet. It’s a very delicate balance.  By the end of this evening I will have made 4 different types of cookies, and then I’ll do two types tomorrow. Why, you ask? Because I LOVE cookies. That, and I am bringing Christmas joy to the ones I love in the form of sugar. I never realized how difficult it is. My grandma bakes this smattering of weird and strange cookies every year for 6 families, and I’ve never really thought twice about it. But now that I am doing it, I realize that it’s time consuming and expensive. After you buy all the ingredients, then you have to pack them up in adorable boxes with fancy parchment and pretty ribbons. I’m not going to spend all this time baking these cookies, and then stick them on a dixie plate and wrap them with plastic wrap–I’m totally above plastic wrap. So kids, the moral of my story is, be thankful when you get weird and funky cookies on Christmas, because it means someone loves you.

Choice

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December 21, 2007

I like to look through my old files on the computer every now and then. It makes me smile when I read the pseudo-lofty papers I wrote in college. Silly, really. I thought that if I peppered my essay with words that had a lot of syllables it would help me get a better grade. But looking back, it just made me appear young and unexperienced in writing. In the midst of all my convoluted essays filled with crap and clutter, I found something I wrote about my husband before he was my husband. I read it, sighed, and made the same noise that I make when I see a baby elephant. Would you like to read it? Here it is:

The shiny isles are laden with colorful boxes of Hamburger Helper, jars of crunchy peanut butter, and glossy bags of Wonder Bread. Disheveled mothers plunge down the linoleum path, reckless, searching for elements that make up their shrine: un-dented boxes of Cheerios, extra-strength Advil, and stain-fighting laundry detergent.

Choice- its thickness can envelop the most mundane of chores. Even the grocery store is not exempt from the thoughtful quest that is choice: paper or plastic? Double coupons or club cards? Fat free or low fat? Generic or brand name? Yet in life, it’s not as easy as neglecting to bring your Ralph’s card; difficult decisions, repercussions, and defining moments inevitably capture our character and contour the shape of our heart.

You…you were this glinting, shiny box at the very end of isle 18. You weren’t on sale, you weren’t conveniently located, and you weren’t expecting to be bought. But something about you provoked my attention. I read your back panel and found myself fascinated and rather intrigued. I thought about it and balanced my check book in my head, I couldn’t quite afford you, and I wasn’t even sure if I could fit you in my cupboard. But some how you made it into my cart, I chose you. Despite the risk and the challenge, I chose you.