Come Fly With Me

Dear God in heaven, this has been quite the traumatic week.

But you know what? I'm not going to go into it. I don't care about furnace explosions, 7-page paper disappearances, men, math ulcers, lack of heat, bleeding thumbnails, or PMS. I. don't. care.

See, I like happiness. I'm a happy person. I like life, babies, old people, and puppies. You can't go wrong with those things. I tried making a list of everything that I loved one day on one of those long yellow notepads, and I filled up 8 pages, front and back. So I'm not worried about you know, becoming a depressed emo-screamo kid or anything like that. But then I have a week like this one and suddenly I can think of only two things that I like about life... chocolate and Shop-ko. Oh, and CHRISTMAS junk at Shop-ko is a double whammy... HELLO life completion. Oh, and maybe Robert Redford, circa 1973. (EDITORS NOTE: Everybody needs to rent "The Way We Were" and you will know why Robert Redford is a shoe-in for bad days/weeks. De-lish. I'd make out with a bag of Fritos if it looked like him. And p.s.--- you WILL, against all odds, become a Barbara Streisand fan after watching that movie as well. Boys, you too. I won't tell.)

Anyways. I realized how long its been since I've updated this thing and now I really want to get back in the swing of things. AND I have to finish my Amish life story! Goodness... that should have been done wicked ages ago. I've been thinking about that a lot lately, ya know, simplicity. Especially on Tuesday morning when my IBM Thinkpad was THISCLOSE to shattering into a million little pieces when I wanted to desperately chuck it down the stairs in a fit of fuming rage. And then I thought, well why not throw my evil-spawn cell phone down with it... no cell, no laptop, no life and brain-cell wasting on Facebook, AIM, ect... life would be positively the most beautiful place on earth. I like WANT to be Laura Ingalls Wilder at this point in my life, let's saaaay, circa 1844. Talk about perfect! I mean, really. My life would be so complete. I would trade in my worldly-Fowlerville-sophistication into a petticoat-wearing, bonnet-sporting, fire-hearth sweeping, fiddle-playing, Indian-fighting, quilting-beeing, baby-making hero of the nineteenth century. I'd live in a log cabin deep in the backwoods of the Upper Peninsula where we would outhouse it and shoot prarie dogs and chew on blades of grass and make our own soap out of pig's lard and call our kids names like Inger, Lars, and Ivar, and Sven. Maybe Duncan too. I think that name is so pecking cute.

Lordy lordy look who has to go on with her life as a stupid 21-year-old living in the stupid 21st century... I got screwed over in this 1985 business. I'll be back! I'm out like a Mormon at a Pepsi convention.

I so do love America.

Do you want to know what I love even more? The Amish. Those beautiful Amlettes were the best part of our bi-annual road trip, my friends, and I feel like writing about them. I will prove to you that although I grew up with telephones and vehicles that run on gasoline, I would still make the absolute perfect Amish wife. This is where my fascination with Amlette men has lead me... to the point of the dream of my Amish life being documented right here:

1. The pick-up line is always first, and of utmost importance. My signature line of "Hey, do you know how much a polar bear weighs... enough to break the ice!" will not work here, as is obvious because of the fact that I am still single. A soft, subtle and very flattering approach will work here. "Hey baby, thy buggy has a sweet lacquer job" is suffice, but a more direct offer of a buttermilk daquiri may also work to my advantage as well. Hello, I'm in. Sign me up for the next quilting bee.
2. Obviously, next comes marriage.

... To be continued...

Three more days three more days three more days!!!!!!!

T-minus three days till the road trip baby. A whole week of camping, Amish-chasing, and city slicking. I am SO wicked excited.

Bllaaaaaahh... so much to update but really don't feel like typing. I had a LOOOOooooooOOng day of babysitting for Evan, Kyle, Jacob, and Bailey today.... I'm positively pooped, but it was wicked fun. Thank God it rained all day so I didn't have to take the kids outside on the farm where there's just oodles of stuff saying, "Hey! Step on me! Climb me! Don't fall or get caught in me!" I worry too much about the kids scrambling around and getting in to stuff and all the dangerous junk that COULD happen, but probably never will. I'm going to be the nuttiest mom someday.

The kids and I still had a good time today... golly, sometimes I love hanging out with children more than kids my own age. It's the same way with old people. I love kids, and I love oldies most of the time, so I guess it's everyone in-between that I can't stand. Kidding! I made the kids homemade mac and cheese for lunch and then I made my ever famous hot dog octupuses with mustard eyes to plop on top of the noodles. It was cute and wicked delish. Then I let the kids watch Aladdin while I cleaned the kitchen (Only to join in during "A Whole New World"... and auuuuugh! I hit an all-time low today. I actually felt very cynically JEALOUS of Princess Jasmine. So what if she feels "trapped" in that flipping amazing palace of hers.. she gets a pet tiger, a husband at age eighteen, AND the dreamy street rat Aladdin, who takes her on hot dates on a magic flying carpet. She's the luckiest son of a monkey ever!)

After I got over my raging jealousy over an animated drawing, the kids and I made cookies and read books, only to settle them down so that Bailey would maybe go down for a nap, but to no avail. Oh well... I decided to teach the kids to freeze all their dinosaur toys in bowls of blue-food-colored water, which we took out a couple hours later and pretended we were archelogists picking away at the ice for fossils. It was SO fun. I think I might do that with all my old Barbies, even though that's a little sadistic. Maybe I won't do that after all. I think I'll freeze all those old silly McDonalds toys instead. Everyone loves a nice frozen Rescue Ranger.

All right, this babysitter-of-the-year is hitting the hay. I practically have Cheerios and Matchbox cars coming out of my ears, but hey, it was a day well spent. Aurevoir!