My daughter the song writer

I caught Annie last night in mid verse, these are the words to the first song Annie ever made up herself.  "God made me beautiful, God made me smart, God made these cheeks and they no fall off."  Note this was being sung quite loudly with arms flailing, while wearing a neon green tinker bell dress about 5 inches above the knee (oh my! I need to make it longer like yesterday) with one pink shoe, one red shoe, and purple pants. 

Yes, she's about as fashionable as Hanna Montana.  The two are going to be on a tv show about what not to wear.    I sadly didn't catch the rest of her song.  She saw me doing my mommy spy moves and quite ASAP.  I'm not very good at sneaking.  

Quick Updates:

The chickens are spending their first night outside.  I'm so happy.  

My car is evil

My bike makes me happier than cocaine

and Annie has decided to no longer nap (this is bad)

Strawberries and Princesses

" Your fart stinky, mine smell like strawberry and princess "   Annie Schmidt 4/10/09

Where have all the good men gone?

Being a single mom basically means, I don't get out much.  When I do, it's usually last minute, when I reach my breaking point and just can't seem to keep going.  Some tell tale signs that I'm getting to this point, is when the house gets messy, the laundry stops getting washed and I can't find anything to eat in the kitchen (completely psychosomatic, that one).  Last night was one of those nights.  I just wanted to quit life.  Most of the time I get by pretty well and have little to complain about.   Then it will hit me like a brick wall and the thought of another day doing this by myself is to much to handle.  So Annie gets to have a sleep over with her Gigi and I go out.  I pretend I'm free.  I pretend I have money and the body I used to have before Annie (these two are a little harder to pull off).   

I drop Annie off at my mothers and begin to plan my night.  I don't tell my mother my plans because honestly, I' terrified of her disapproval and telling me that I can't.   Even this morning when she asked me what I did last night I said nothing.  Strange that at 28 I still feel like she controls my world and that her approval means everything. 

Because I am incapable of planing things more than 4 hours in advance and all my friends are married, I usually go out alone.  Which was the case last night.  After visiting with a friend for a few hours I headed to my final destination.  A very strange bar on Morganford, that I still don't understand.  It's clean, the colors are beige and blue and it just doesn't fit in, but a friend (more acquaintance really) plays there frequently and I love Love Love to hear them play.    I walk in and go to the bar for a beer.  A somewhat attractive man buys my beer for me, therefor requiring me to at least say hi and respond to some small chit chat before moving on.  Well, he was a talker, thankfully not a toucher, but very inquisitive.  If I've learned anything in the last five years of being a massage therapist it's DON'T tell people your a massage therapist at a bar, and avoid telling people you have a kid if your going to want more than one beer.  So over the year I have compiled a list of occupations that don't get men overly excited.  Teacher and Vet tech seem to be the best ones. Never ever say: Massage Therapist, Librarian, nurse or Flight Attendant.

So after about 10 minutes of talking I move away from my new beer buying friend.  He wasn't crude or mean or anything I just wasn't interested.   About half an hour later I see Mr. Beer go into the ladies room with one of the bartenders (female) and walk out two songs later, SO GROSS!  Thank you Lord for the sense you gave me!    Seeing this only makes me sad to the fact that if there actually are any good guys out there I'm most likely never going to meet them.  Unless they to decide to join my church where being single over 25 makes you the minority, because I never get out and when I do all I meet are creepy guys that either drink to much or go to ladies room with the bartender.    

my list

My sister is tired of staring at the mystery jar, she said it scared her, and I really didn't have much to say, so I made a list.   Please don't judge.  Some people have gambling or realtor.com. Me? I have my kitchen.

My list of strange things I keep in my kitchen

six different types of honey

Enough black beans and rice to keep a mexican restaurant running for about a week

A box of microwave popcorn (only strange because I don't own a microwave)

Five rolling pins

Nine pounds of oats

Five different types of flour

Jars, jars, jars and jars (no Tupperware in this house)

Eight pounds of butter? I didn't believe it myself until I counted

Six baby chicks

Nine pounds of puff pastry dough (it was eleven but I made chicken puffs)

and a collection of cookbooks so large that it spilled over into my living room

A cabinet dedicated to nothing but herbs, homeopathic tabs, and homemade tinctures (yeah I make them)

I'm thinking I should either open a restaurant or confess to my counselor. 

Mystery jar

Mid cleaning I found this in my fridge.  I'm a little embarrassed to say I have no idea what it is.  I've never seem anything freeze like this, and yes it's totally frozen.

Skeksis and mops

So I got two days away from my life.  It felt strange coming home.  The house messy, the bills still sitting where I left them, and Annie the absolute greatest thing in my life looking at me like a stranger.   

Oh, and the chickens too.  Twice the size as when I left them they are starting to resemble Skeksis (Jim Henson, Dark Crystal).    Somehow I felt like I didn't fit into all this.  That somehow I'd fallen out of rhythm with my life in the two days I had been away, and I've been struggling to get back into it.  

I'm starting by getting my house together.  It wasn't terrible, but it needs organization and a mop.    My next goal will be income.  I've lost quite a few clients with this darn economic crisis and need to shift things around again.  I'm so thankful God gave me the gift of flexibility.  And Annie? She finally came to recognize me as mom and we're pretty stable, so things are good there.  But the chickens?  Oh, they have got to get out of my house.  They now jump out of their pool and walk freely around the breakfast room (evoking nightmares of a Skeksis attack in my own home).  

While I was gone my friend Mark worked on their coop a lot.  It's completely framed and ready for shingles and walls!   I can't believe how much he got done.  But he's going out of town, and my homework while he's away is to shingle the roof.   I should find someone to show me how, but I'm so sick of asking for help.  I think I'm gonna see what YouTube can show me.

No Crying

We've spent a lot of time outside lately, and I've gotten a lot of yard work done.  The down side?  My allergies.  I was feeling so great that I kinda forgot to take my morning regimen of fowl tasting crap that somehow stops my body from reacting to St. Louis.  Oops.  Now I'm sniffily and teary eyed yet again.  Every time Annie looks at me she says "no cry mommy" or "stop cry."   It's hard to explain to her that I'm not crying.  I tried to tell her I wasn't and she just looked at me and said "but mommy, I see you cry."  I've been unable to convince her that I'm not crying but simply have itchy watery eyes from the massive pollen explosion outside.  So I'm getting used to her checking in on me every now and then.  She pats my back, says "stop your cry" and goes back to her playing.  I love my Annie.