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June 2014

Have you seen this scary man/woman?

This Full House Forever Ago
this full house, forever ago

It's been 2 years since we've had kids roaming the halls of the elementary school; wondering how they can get out of going to gym class (mostly the girls) or losing track of time on their way back from the bathroom (probably my son) and just where in the heck DID they put down their lunch bags (ALL of them) or coats (my son, again) seriously?!?

Hint: claim cramps, it's on the kitchen table, and there's a bit of comfort that goes along with my believing there are warm and toasty kids out there, who are probably still wearing my son's coats.

Aaaaanyway, although my husband and I do NOT miss the daily grind of school drop-offs and pick-ups, there's a calm sort of "Yeah, we've got teens and haven't burned-out all of our gray cells, YET" sort of feeling that goes along with raising older kids.

Somethings I do miss:

  • Sitting outside at the school playground
  • For at least a few minutes, every day
  • Waiting for the kids to burn off some steam
  • While I go through their backpacks
  • Finding little drawings of the most random stuff imaginable
  • Seriously, I don't EVER remember inviting a five-armed alien, with big orange eyes and three heads, to dinner
  • Although, it was probably meant to be a picture of me
  • My kids draw good

Then there would be this guy. His pants were always too short, his shoes sometimes didn't match and he always seemed to be arguing with someone, who wasn't actually really there, and it used to scare the kids to hear him holler one.

Quite frankly, me too.

Not because I was afraid he was going to hurt us (okay, with four kids hanging onto every one of my body parts within their reach, maybe a little), but because he always seemed to be know...angry.

Years passed, our kids started taking the bus to their schools, but we still sometimes saw "the scary man" walk by the front of our house -- same too short pants and mismatched shoes.

Fast forward to this morning: we ran out of milk. Okay, so in the large scope of things, not a really big deal. Unless, you've only had one cup of coffee and cannot...and I mean NOT...function properly without at least one more cup of coffee, like me.

I asked my oldest daughter if she'd mind driving down to the corner to grab a gallon, but she was running late for work....GASP!!!!....not so much because she was running late for work (honestly, I'd be checking for pods in the crawl space, if she wasn't), but it meant that I would have to go down to the corner and get my own danged milk....GASP!!!!

Long story, short: my car isn't feeling very well, at the moment (because the washing machine is broken and the car has sympathy pains, OF COURSE!) so I decided to walk and, as it often times happens when I am alone, I started talking to myself:

  • A friggin' second cup of coffee
  • Is all I want, dammit
  • Stupid car
  • Dumbass washing machine
  • Daaaaang, but it's too hot for this sweatshirt
  • Gah, BOOB SWEAT!!!!
  • Probably be ALL out of milk, anyways
  • I meant the store, NOT my boobs
  • Because those puppies have been empty FOR YEARS!!!
  • That's what SHE said

Aaaaaand, then it hit me, like a dried-up boob upside the head: all those poor people driving by, as I'm literally arguing with myself, I must look like a fright. Then I glanced down at my feet.

Mismatched flip flops
enough said

You know, I haven't seen the scary man in a while. Gosh, but I hope he's okay.

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Two Shots of Happy, One Shot of Sad

I am a big fan of Spotify and love listening to all sorts of music, especially at different times during the day, for example:

  • Mornings: are for acoustic new-age-totally-zen-like-chill-the-frig-out-already-type of channels while working, but not before carefully screening out play lists featuring waterfalls or rain, because overactive bladder...YO!!!
  • Afternoons: are made for badass-don't-EVEN-think-about-messing-with-me-womenz like P!nk and Halestorm's Lzzy Hyde (a.k.a. my husband's second and third wives and I'm totally okay wit-it!) while driving and/or running a bazillion errands, especially during the summer. I live Jersey, enough said.
  • Evenings: however, are perfect for storytelling sexy-sexy-type crooners like Frank Sinatra, Harry Conick Jr. and Michael  Bublé (although, in our house we call him Michael Bubble) while I'm making dinner or know...a little sexy-sexy, my ownself.

Note to my teens: you guys are old enough to know how it works, and that it STILL works (mostly, sort of), so get over it, already!

An online friend of mine recently introduced me to Martini in the Morning, a play list that is currently running 24-7 on my Spotify account, because it is far enough away from mainstream music (a.k.a. kryptonite, for teens), that even my kids aren't making fun of much...okay, for about 5's kinda, sorta cool.

Until! This song: Two Shots of Happy, One Shot of Sad started to play and I went to Google it (it's written by U2: Bono and The Edge, KEWL!) and also to learn a little more about the artist who was singing all sexy-sexy like, Matt Dusk.

Aaaaaaaaand, oh. Em. Gee. Now I can't seem to get ANY work done...DAMMIT...but that doesn't mean I'm going to NOT get ANY work done...alone...soooooooo, here ya' go:


You're welcome!!! Gee, I wonder what Garth (not his real name) is doing, right now?!? 

©2003 -2014 This Full House with a fan page on Facebook, a way for you to subscribe to receive This Full House blog post by Email and everything!

© This Full House 2003-2017. All rights reserved.