Saturday, September 18, 2010

Random Happenings from World of Holly and Harry(s)

I'm a bad, bad, Mrs. Blogger, huh?
Well, it's like this - the Ipad? Ya know that uber-cool thing that Mr. Jobs RAVES about - DOESN'T WORK FOR BLOGGER BLOGGING.  And no app in sight. 
And---- I killed my Macbook Air.  No - I don't know how and NO I didn't do it on purpose - it just got - confused.  And kept trying to load but, pathetically, couldn't.  But never fear. Big Harry was here to fix it - with a backed up copy. From May. 
So I only lost a few months (forehead smack goes here). 

I traveled to NC for a few weeks with the Harrys and was taunted daily by a mysterious ball in the pond behind our hotel.  "Fred" as I named him would show up at random times and random places within the pond - looking no worse for the wear from storms and random Hurricane-winds that swooped by.  I made up stories of his origin since there are NO houses near that part of town and I could only guess he was related to "Wilson" of "Castaway" fame. He was my friend.  Some days - my only friend. 

I threw my back out again - worse this time.  I swear if I find the expiration date on this here body of mine.... Well - I'm asking for a refund - or a bionic body - I can scrape up donations for $6 million, I'm sure.  So after two weeks of ineffective Chiro-ing I finally went to the doc and got a shot in the butt for my trouble - and a crap ton of Rx's.  I'm going to be better in no time - and probably do something else stupid to mess it up.  

Currently my baby boy, Harry the Fourth, is creeping along toward the six month marker.  What the hell happened to the past three months? The first three seemed so slow, as if they would never come to a close and reveal the boy beneath the fussy baby and now - dude is growing up too fast! I buy him 6 month clothing - AND THEY'RE TOO SMALL!  He wears baby capris cuz the pants are too short and they give him a lil tummy fat roll too!  He's found his toes, too. And instead of being overjoyed - he's mad.  They're like little five-toed invaders into his world and must be destroyed.  Problem is, once he's managed to pull of his socks and get into a reclining position - his belly blocks their way to his mouth.  So he tugs with BOTH HANDS to get one foot to his mouth.  Holding his breath he'll get his big toe in his mouth, grin, slobber - and lose his grip. For which he will then utter his favorite baby curse word:"MAMAMAMAMAMAMA!" - Yes, my name is what he utters when he is BEYOND pissed at the world.  Siiiiigh. 

Went to the Fallfest tonight in Barboursville, WV.   Ate a hot dog.  A Pepsi.  Some bits of a funnel cake that fell out of Big Harry's mouth.  A deep fried pecan pie.  Some curly chips and - currently - a bag of cotton candy.   I expect the sugar coma to be a way to catch up on my sleep from the past few months.  

Oh - and on the "New Mama" front - my hair has decided to part ways with my head.  The hair sculptures on the shower wall have gone from Minimalistic Expressionism to A Grotesque Overuse of Medium.  Nothing I can do will stop my hair from falling out in clumps.  So - if you have a lot of pesky hair, thick strands that you can do nothing with - just have a baby and watch it all, literally, go down the drain.  I'm THIS CLOSE to hitting Chic Wigs in the local mall.  Maybe they'll have a Katy Perry blue one and I can start a (very bad) trend. 

Last week I turned 30-uh-(mumble).  The boys and I went to a very fancy restaurant. I was mortified.  I was expecting the baby to go all Excorcist crazy on me since I was eating (He doesn't like for me to eat.  No, really, he'll knock the food out of my hand or grab it from me.  It's the best diet - if I'd let him win).  But he did really well.  I have pictures but, of course, my Mail isn't working right now.  Why? Cuz Mac's hate me.  
And sometimes, the feeling is mutual. 

Okay - off to bed now since the baby is asleep and, per usual, if he's asleep, I'm asleep.  Or bidding on stuff at  That place is ADDICTING! And so much less commercialized and confusing and shady as Ebay.  

Rant over. Everyone back to their large bag of pink and blue Cotton Candy.  What? No Cotton Candy? Oh that's saddddddd. I'd share but.... well... uh....  :)

Saturday, September 4, 2010

A Minute to Collect Myself

My husband has control issues. It's the one major thing we fight about and it creeps into all aspects of his life. He won't let things go if he knows he's "right", he has to be involved on all decisions which involve him, or even if they don't, and, most importantly, if he has one of it -he must have them all.
I used to make fun of him for his OCD-like collections: Simpsons figures, GI joes, Transformers, Masters of the Universe, Metallica records, comics and more fill our basement and walls, shelves and windows, rooms and even bathrooms in order for him to feel happy, complete and in control.
Not that I'm innocent of having the odds and ends of collectabiles either. I have quite a bit of Harry Potter merchandise, some special Barbies, a few Buffy and Angel dolls and stands and a large wardrobe of designer duds, handbags and shoes. But do I have to have them? Surely not.
But then I started cleaning out our downstairs closet in hopes of having some loot to sell this weekend at my parent's big Yard Sale. I tugged and lugged, cursed and sweated my way to the back and then turned to look at what I'd dragged out. A pile, roughly as tall as me and as big around as my extended redneck family loomed before me.
It was all Christmas wrapping paper.
And bows.
And balls.
And ribbon.
And tags.
Oh. My. GAWD!!!
I tried organizing the mound, but it only made it worse - and prettier. I wondered aloud about possible wrapping paper support groups. Should I just give up and ask Santa to bring me a wrapping paper wall organizer? Nah, no way my name was accidentally moved off the naughty list.
I stuffed some horrendous old decor items, curtains, fake foliage, and a few other odds and ends into bags and lugged them up the stairs all the while ignoring the alluring pile of bedazzled paper.
Temptation behind me I then searched the bathroom for useless items like footbaths and hair product gimmicks (a hair dryer with a brush attached!!!! Wow!!!) when I noticed another pile forming.
Headbands. Plastic ones, fabric ones, small and big ones, sparkly ones, classic ones, old and new ones. Piles upon piles of strayhairkeepers were being pulled from every drawer and alcove in the bathroom.
And I had more.
In my suitcase.
I quickly shoved them in to a bottom drawer but stopped first to admire a rather pleasing pink and gray number in thick flannel.
I vowed then and there never to bring up my hubs crazy collections again.
I'd be silent, supportive and sweet, even for it seemed that I, too, collect things. So I shall bite my tongue... for one whole day. Whew! Marriage is full of sacrifices! ;)