Got Milk?

Oh, the joys of drinking through a straw. A much cleaner way to get hydrated.

Are you Pregnant?

Today, in Zumba, I couldn't help but notice this cute pregnant lady getting her groove on. She seemed fairly far along, but really quite agile for her condition. After class, I made my way over to the teacher to ask her about some of the music for the class. I wanted to tell the pregnant lady how good she looked and how inspiring she was for all of us. With a big smile and cheerful voice I tried to reassure her that she didn't look awkward. Then I asked, "When are you due?" Her face abruptly changed, but she sheepishly replied, "Oh, I'm not pregnant. But I am trying to lose the baby weight." I did a quick up and down and then gave her a weird hug to hide my embarrassment. Then, to cover up the awkward feelings, I asked "How long ago did you have your baby?"

Are you kidding me? What moron follows up with that question and expects a better result? Well, me.

Surprise, her youngest is 8 years old! That's right! Eight long years of gym going blown by some stupid ditz in the Zumba class.

I proceeded to make matters worse by trying to let her feel complimented that she looked young enough to appear to be pregnant. Truth be told, she looked about 30 even though she was really 46. Lucky!

About 3 years ago, a nice Home Depot employee began a conversation with me with the sentence, "You and I are about the same age. When I graduated high school in 1980. . . " Too bad I was born in 1980. The misconception I had about looking ok without make up or doing my hair was swiped away quite quickly. At least I know kind of how hideous I made that nice lady feel.

While I was busy destroying people's confidence, Talia was contentedly playing in the gym daycare. I was shocked. Usually I am pulled from my class to find Talia screaming and blotchy faced. I hope this is a sign of something better to come.

Going Green

Though this transformation happened over a month ago, I still want to put a little post about my attempts at adding color to our home.

BEFORE


AFTER


You may be asking yourself, what is the difference? That is something I often ask myself when I go in there. I am just grateful that it morphed into a more subtle color since it was kind of Double Mint Gum wrapper looking for a while.

I would like to direct your attention to the mirror on the wall. I was hating the standard plain rectangular mirror that comes standard on homes. So, I just pried it off and replaced it will the bamboo framed mirror we have had for sometime now. The other mirror is sitting in the garage awaiting a makeover of its own.

Pigeon isn't the only one who wants a puppy

Mo Willems has some pretty clever books. I am slightly enamored by his Pigeon series that have such great titles as "Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog" , "Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late!" or Drive the Bus" (sorry I condensed to titles. Consider it a sentaction instead of a contraction).

We were introduced to them by one of the greatest story tellers I have ever heard. Every Friday, at the Red Balloon Bookshop in Alamo Heights, we would be captivated by her mannerisms and slightly raspy voice (no doubt attributed to her many readings). Keep in mind that the pigeon is the embodiment of all children who beg for things that they just can't have. When you read the books, have the kids answer in a funny way "no, no, NO, NO!" to all the questions the pigeon asks.

Our children have been begging for an animal. Fernando and I don't want to get a pet that they can't take care of and has no real room to stay outside. To help them see how much responsibility goes in to taking care of a living thing, we let the kids pick out some flowers to plant and help make grow. Conference weekend seemed perfect. So before the first session, we headed to Lowes. Tiago, Mia, and I were there for several hours trying to find the best red flowers there were. (Yeah, Tiago is in love with red because of Lightening McQueen and so Mia also must have red.) Once purchased we bused home to watch Saturday morning session.

For a break between sessions, we prepped the ground. That was a bigger process then we expected. The kids started out being helpful, but the heat and the rigorous shoveling made sprinklers a better option.











It took so long that we didn't even plant the flowers before we were back inside for the Saturday afternoon session. (As you can see, Tiago wasn't too happy about switching outdoor fun for indoor tv watching.)

Then before Priesthood session, we finished up the rest. It brought a much needed change and splash of color. It was a good learning situation for all.




**I was really amazed at the fortitude the kids had with the Conference Marathon. It helped that we had activities and food that the kids could do as they listened for key words.

A Cascade of Gas

Have any of you ever driven with your gas light on? I do. Frequently. It isn't really an intentional thing. I just usually have other things to do (like get kids home for naps or food) that I figure I will get it on my next outing. Today I left early to Zumba with the goal of getting gas. Waiting at the pump, I usually play a game of guess how much it will cost. I am pretty close most of the time.

Today, when the numbers kept going past my guess, I got confused. I looked at the price per gallon, calculated again, and turned to see gas pouring out down the side of my car. Several thoughts ran through my head. Did I put it in wrong? Where was the trusted click that automatically turns off the pump when it is getting full? Is anyone smoking near by? As carefully and quickly as I could I stopped the gas that was going at full throttle.

I immediately pushed the attendant button. Good thing the connection was about as good as a fast food restaurant's drive thru window. "Blst What sofept do?" Says the woman in the darkened booth. "A whole bunch of gas just poured out of my tank onto the ground." I calmly try to explain. "Cknsft blsret?" "What? I am sorry. It is very loud out here and I can't hear you very well." Silence. I stare at the spilled gas and wished I didn't have the graphic drawings on the pump stand reminding me how flammable gas is. I am also glad that I didn't read this story.

After two minutes of waiting, I pushed the button again. "I am sorry. I don't really know what you want me to do here." I say hoping for a clearer response. I figure out the following from the muffled mess: The lady was trying to call somebody about the problem and wouldn't come out. The gas would evaporate. If nothing got on me, I should just leave.

Almost late for Zumba, and getting nauseous from the fumes, I pull hesitantly away. I hope things got taken care of, but I doubt it. I am glad that I always stay by the pump and I think I will never trust the automatic click off again.

Almost Got it

Sometimes I remember the days of 35mm cameras. You wait and hope and pray (especially when you lack talent) for a few shots turning out. Digital takes away most of those problems, but doesn't make for perfection. I guess that is what photoshop is for. (Fernando tired scaling the outside part of our playground thing which caught more attention from the kids then the camera lens.)