Thursday, September 30, 2010


I am totally confused.

And discombobulated.

And if that's not a word... well, then it proves my point.

Every day this week I've woken up thinking it is Saturday. And every day it has actually been a work day.

When the alarm goes off Mr. San Antonio gets up (like a normal person), and I role over and lisp through my retainer something to the effect of, "ugh... no... thith ithn't fair... i'm not getting up."

Then in the pitch black of the early morning, Mr. SA get the coffee started and comes back and either sings in my face, or pulls the covers off me, or if he's in a nice mood he'll stroke my hair and say, "Rithe and schline shleepy head." And then I have to get up so I can chase him down the hall and karate chop him.

But eventually I am bound to wake up on an actual real life Saturday. I will nestle deep into the comforter and I will refuse to get up until the sun peaks through the window shade. Once that happens, I will emerge from my cocoon without complaining. I'll celebrate the day by making pumpkin bread, and dressing head to toe in burnt orange, and watching Texas defeat OU.

Here's a picture of me and Kate when Texas beat USC:

This is back when I had a fake tooth. Apparently it is also back when I used to smile with my mouth hanging wide open.

In any case, I'll be donning similar attire this Saturday. And cheering along with Kate (even though she's across the sea).

Maybe this weekend I'll also be responsible and organize our new filing container... but maybe not.

I'll be too focused on yelling "Fight Texthus Fight!"

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Things I loved...

Things that I loved about yesterday:

Wearing jeans to work for spirit week.

Laughing with co-workers during lunch duty.

Standing in the sun after school let out and not sweating.

Pulling out the crock-pot, and coming home after work to the smell of orange ginger chicken.

Being encouraged to attend my women's Bible study by Mr. San Antonio even though I was tired and just wanted to stay home...

And subsequently being renewed by conversations with women older and younger as we shared in common joys and struggles.

Sketching and prepping for my next watercolor attempt - Mr. San Antonio surprised me over the weekend with my first ever watercolor supplies.

Planning out how to welcome the fall season into our home! 

And at the end of the day, being able to crawl under our lightweight down comforter for the first week in five months!

Monday, September 27, 2010

High School

I helped chaperon the homecoming dance this weekend, and Mr. San Antonio very kindly accompanied me. It was nice having him there. Even if he wouldn't join the conga line or succumb to my enticing dance moves.

Is dancing to techno music enticing?

We observed the students and the drama that naturally arises in these environments. The guy wearing a tux to a semi-formal, who stood on the sidelines and watched a beautiful girl dance with her girlfriends, occasionally taking a step closer, and then getting nervous and stepping back against the wall. We rooted for him. We tried to make eye contact so we could give him a thumbs up to encourage him to keep stepping and ask the girl to dance. I'm not sure he succeeded that night... but hopefully one of these days...

And we observed the handful of girls who were dressed like they were my age, going into a club. And our principal (who has three small girls) pulled me aside, and asked with a panic stricken face, "How can I ensure that my girls never dress like that?"

At one point I turned to Mr. SA and asked, "Why did we think that High School was so important?" And we laughed. But then inside I thought, "It was important because at the time it was all we could see."

Now, in Cinderella fashion, the school week is back in session. And fifteen year-olds look like fifteen year-olds.

And Wednesday is tie-dye day.

And any kind of segregation that occurred at the dance will be dispelled, because tie dye is the worst invention of mankind; and on Wednesday everyone will be dressed head-to-toe in it; and there is no hierarchy when everyone looks completely and utterly ridiculous.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands

Mr. San Antonio is in the throws of a stressful time in his life - otherwise known as "job searching".

And I'm trying to be a supportive wife.

And I'm thinking back on all the advice my grandparents have given me over the years regarding relationships.

When I was in the throws of the stressful dating years, my Grandma B told me, "sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince."

During Thanksgiving of 2003 she turned to me in the middle of dinner and said, "You know Marissa, when your Grandpa and I were dating, we spent a lot of time with our friends, but we always found time to be by ourselves and neck."

It took me a few seconds to figure out what "necking" meant. When I did... I choked on my potatoes.

Right after we got engaged my Grandpa B told us, "Marissa, you have to remember that he [Mr. SA] is the king. But [Mr. SA], if you remember that Marissa is the queen and you treat her like the queen, then she'll never forget that you're the king."

Then, about a month before I got married last year, my Grandma G sent me a beautiful nightie that I happened to open in the middle of a restaurant with my dad and brothers watching. Whoops. I've never seen those three men turn such a bright shade of red. And I'm not sure their scars have fully healed.

Along with the nightie, and a lovely note giving her personal marriage advice, was the book, "The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands".

Both of my grandmas are wonderful cooks. And both of my grandpas appear to be very happy men.

I think they may have read the book.

And I think the book might be right. Because collectively they've been married over 120 years. That's 120 years of success and failure, and learning and growing, and ultimately gaining wisdom that they are now passing on to me.

Thank you!

And next time I won't spit out my mashed potatoes...

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Man Food

Last night I made macaroni and cheese (a combination of two family recipes), and when Mr. San Antonio got home from work his eyes lit up and he praised my culinary skills and demanded that he do the dishes.

Not only will I be making mac-and-cheese every week for the rest of our married life, but tonight I will be introducing him to this meatloaf recipe that screams "man-food" in every possible way.

Growing up in California, I never thought that I would make a dish that is filled with meat and eggs and then think even for a second that it would be remotely acceptable to cover the dish with even more meat.

But the second layer of meat is in the form of bacon.

And I'm married to a Texas man.

And he likes bacon.

And I love making food that Mr. SA enjoys.

And I think this might get me out of washing dishes for the second night in a row.

Just kidding.

Sort of. Not really. Ok, that comment was totally serious, and I'm sorry for being so shallow.

And as much as I like vegetables, and have been known to crave, and then consume, green beans in ridiculously large quantities; if I'm totally and completely honest with myself....

Well, I like bacon too.

Please don't interpret this. I don't want to know what it means.

Other than I'll be eating salad for the rest of the week.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Reminiscing about the Weekend

I'm reminiscing about our weekend... and wishing the next one would come a little faster. But that's always the case isn't it?

The best weekend moment:
Having a picnic with Mr. SA at the Becker Winery (which he planned as a surprise).

Most incriminating weekend moment:
Being asked after church, "were those your kids screaming and running down the halls and interrupting my class?" (Yes, in fact they were. Mr. SA took all 16 of them on a "trek through the desert" to prep them for our Bible lesson about Moses.)

Most Frustrating weekend moment:
Trying to get a four year old to spell his name for me so I could write it on his Sunday School craft.
"Can you spell your name for me?"
"It's impossible. I can't do it."
"I know it starts with an 'A', can you tell me what letter comes next?"
"It's impossible. I can't, I can't do it, no, I can't."
"Ok, I know the next letter is 's', so 'A...s...', then what?"
"My name is MORE than 'A...s...'!"
"Yes, I realize that, but I don't know how to spell the rest of your name, and I need you to help me."
"It's impossible, I can't do it."
"Ok. can we ask your sister for help?"
(little boy talking to his sister) "She wants to know how to spell my name. But it's impossible."

A time-travel weekend moment:
Came across this picture, taken right after we got engaged (we flew out to California so Mr. SA could meet my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and life-long friends). Seeing the picture cracks me up. Partly because of the picture. Partly because of the memories it invokes.

Most generous weekend moment:
Stopping by a peach orchard and having the owner say, "take as many as you can carry, and just pay what you want."

Most delicious weekend moment:
The dessert my very talented mother-in-law prepared for our pre-Texas vs. Tech game watching.

And, the most satisfying weekend moment:
Turning off the window unit in the middle of the night because we were cold (or cool, or at least cool enough to not need the window unit blasting on us)! Praise the Lord!

Friday, September 17, 2010

Friday Thoughts

It's Friday, and next week it will be officially Autumn (even though it's predicted to be in the 90's for the next week), and I'm so excited for chai lattes and pumpkin flavored everything, and the hope of wearing tights sometime in the next three months, that my insides are all a-flutter.

I really want pancakes. Right now. Even though I'm not really hungry at all. The idea of pancakes sounds really appealing. Maybe tomorrow.

Last night I wore new shoes that make me feel fabulous (girls understand that, guys probably don't), and they also made my feet hurt so bad that I thought I would cry right there in front of all these people I didn't know. But I didn't cry. Points for me. And points to Mr. San Antonio for not being mortified when I later took my shoes off in the middle of our favorite restaurant.

This morning I threw Mr. San Antonio into a panic when he heard I had escorted Mr. Tower to the trash can. Such a panic in fact that he raced home to dumpster dive. But some how miraculously, Mr. Tower had decided not to follow the coffee grinds after all and he's now hidden somewhere safe (meaning: away from my manipulative powers).

Some students asked me if I would open a classroom door for them. I asked why, and they responded, "We need to take the TV inside... we're going to pawn it." So... to show my appreciation for their honesty, I opened the door.

This shrimp dish is what I plan on making for dinner tonight.

And now you know everything about me.

Have a great weekend!

Thursday, September 16, 2010


We brought back only a couple of traditional souvenirs from our trip. They are beautiful and unique and timeless and I'm so glad we got them.

We also brought back a plastic Eiffel tower that lights up. It used to be on the wine cabinet, but has recently decided to migrate to another land. I begged it to stay, but it told me it had places to go and people to see, and that the coffee grinds in the trash bag smelled too good to pass up. So long Mr. Tower, we wish you well.

And before you go thinking I'm a heartless person with no proper respect for tacky travel trinkets, please note that we did not pay one single cent for Mr. Tower. It was given to us by a police officer who had confiscated it from some "vendors". You know the kind I'm talking about.

In addition to the items we purchased in France, I'm creating a couple of our own souvenirs. For one, I'm assembling a photo book with (thank you Amanda for getting me hooked on this madness). And two, I'm slowly adding some French flair into our Texan home - the first act was recovering the living room pillows (the fabric I chose was inspired by the textile stores we passed all throughout Paris).

But even more than these tangible things, we brought back some changes of heart and attitude.

On our anniversary we discussed our goals for our second year of marriage. One of the biggest goals we have as a couple is to become more hospitable. We didn't do a "bad" job of hospitality our first year of marriage, but hospitality is something we're both passionate about and want to be increasingly intentional about as we grow together as a family. 

I strongly believe that this desire in us (which was fueled by Christ, and nurtured by our parents), was expanded through the hospitality we experienced on our trip. In the biggest way - we experienced hospitality through our dear friend Matt (who really has become our friend, even though he and Mr. San Antonio were friends long before I entered the picture). Matt is the one who generously offered his apartment to us for our vacation. The apartment is beautiful and spacious, with a wonderful garden in the back yard (which had more fruit than two people could consume in a two week span). His place is just a block from the river and a few blocks from Germany. He gave us full use of his car, his bike, his wine selection, and his friends. And the little gifts we left for his daughters... they cannot do justice to our level of gratitude to him.

In addition to Matt's hospitality, we were also welcomed into the home of my dear college friend Kate who is currently living in southern France ( She cooked us delicious food, and shared her heart, home and her friends with us while we visited. It is humbling to be kicked out of the kitchen during clean-up time and told to sit and relax when that's all you've been doing for weeks!

And then there were Matt's friends and Kate's friends. One of Kate's friends went out of her way to try and help us go on a wine tour (which didn't end up working out, but we really appreciated her helping out two strangers!). And then three sets of Matt's friends welcomed us into their homes, gave us food, drinks, and and an overall generous reception. And even though one such event ended with dog-doo-doo being sprayed on our car by the gardener, we knew it wasn't personal.... because our hostess frantically cleaned it up for us and ran down the gardener using some choice French words (or so I'm assuming based on her nonverbal cues).

And the last thing I'll mention.... Mr. San Antonio and I also brought back a new level of closeness with one another. I don't really know how to explain it, but there is a greater level of comfort, peace and trust between us since we journeyed together, got frustrated together, hiked up a tall mountain together, got lost together, and laughed at missing keys together

It was a good trip, a great trip, a once in-a-life-time trip. And we have souvenirs to last us a life time as well.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

My Paid Job

I have not really discussed my paid job on here, at least before now. That has been purposeful. But today I feel like writing about it, or at least one aspect of it. Maybe my favorite part of it in fact.

I am in development. As in, I raise money for whoever employs me. Right now that is a private school. I have a wide variety of responsibilities, but my favorite part is writing grant requests.

Mr. San Antonio and I went for a walk the other night and I started telling him about the joy I get when a teacher comes to my office in search of a grant for a class project. My job is to get them to think as specifically and strategically as possible regarding the funds they are requesting. How is the proposed activity going to benefit your students? What lesson plans are in place regarding the activity? How will you measure the level of understanding/growth/development of your students after the activity? What supplies will you need? Where/who else can you find/pursue for the supplies necessary to carry off the activity?

So often a teacher comes to me with a grandiose idea about how they are going to radically change their students' learning experience, and within minutes of sitting with me they feel deflated and frustrated and want to give the whole thing up.

Don't you want to come by?

However, after a few more minutes they begin to understand that the questions I'm making them answer aren't meant to destroy their dreams, they're meant to empower them. The more detailed the teachers can be about their idea, the more convincing of a grant request I can write, and the more prepared they are to actually put their idea into action.

I love the moment when their face lights up with understanding. The field trip they want to take shouldn't just be a "field trip", it should apply directly to their curriculum. And when the students come back to the classroom - their textbooks or lectures or group projects should make more sense and feel more relevant.

That is what I love about my job. The act of putting flesh on the bare bones of a fabulous idea. Then taking those ideas, turning them into cohesive sentences, which build into paragraphs, and (hopefully) grab the reader so that they want to do whatever is within their power to give life - give funding - to the project described.

So, that's what I do. Or at least that's what I'm paid to do. I also clean our toilet and make the occasional batch of peanut butter cookies.

P.S. Don't tell Mr. San Antonio where I hid the rest of last night's batch.

Love, The Pampered Bird

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Newish Layout Etc.

As you might notice I've fiddled with the layout of my site and changed where some things are located. I was frustrated with the giant void that existed next to the big picture and "The Pampered Bird" header. And now I've fixed it. At least for today. But be warned... Mr. San Antonio has come home on more than one occasion to find all our living room furniture completely rearranged.

Hopefully things have remained straightforward for navigating purposes, but if you're having problems or if pictures are getting cut off please let me know.

Also, I've updated the "About Mr. San Antonio" page - where I've posted lots of pictures of his woodworking projects. The link can be found in the left hand column, right under the "About The Pampered Bird" page which is far less interesting.

Enjoy navigating!

And enjoy the rest of your Tuesday!

And don't melt cooking dinner tonight!

And make sure you stay hydrated if you're going to stand near your fire breathing dragon for more than five minutes!

And if you're going to step foot in your kitchen make sure to put on extra deodorant and wear sweat bands!


Oh wait.

You probably have air conditioning. So never mind about all that "advice". Just say a prayer for me instead.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Sunday School Lessons

Yesterday was our first day scheduled as the lead Sunday School teachers for the 4 and 5 year olds at our church. There are 23 of them registered for our class. Twenty three!!!!

Understandably, I was a little nervous about teaching for the first time. I mean, I've lead several Bible studies for girls and young women... but they've always been able to write their own name and sit relatively still and think abstractly (example: If I wear dress A tomorrow, will boy X say phrase 3 to me in science class?).

But 4 year olds? I don't know anything about 4 year olds. Except the whole nose picking thing. I know that because of my own personal past experience... but don't tell Timothy, because he's the kid I had a crush on at the age of 4 and I just don't think I could handle him knowing the truth about me.

So, over the past week, in order to properly prepare myself, I read and reread the story of God speaking to Moses from the burning bush. I practiced turning a stick into a snake and back again (I failed by the way). I rehearsed my "teacher voice".  And I continually sought reassurance from my much-more-sane-than-me husband.

Then, Sunday morning came. We got up extra early, and headed to church to get our room set up. When we got there I realized I had forgotten to do several important things to prep for the lesson. Things like, cutting squares of construction paper. And drawing a snake. And writing out 23 copies of "take home questions" that the kiddos are supposed to give to their parents as a way to follow up on the lesson throughout the week.

Ok, confession, I was totally ready to not write out the questions and just admit to the parents that I had messed up and forgotten, but then I thought back to last week and how the other teacher for our class had been super prepared and had promised all the parents that every week their kids would bring home these questions, and my stomach flipped and I thought, "I can't let them know that I have no idea what I'm doing, I have to show them that I'm the perfect Sunday School teacher, which means I have to write out all these questions."

And so, Mr. San Antonio and I started writing out questions, and as a result we were 30 minutes late to the church service.

And I was a nervous wreck.

And Mr. San Antonio was very sweet and patient with me, and not once did he try to tell me I was being crazy. Which I know he thought I was.

And then we learned in church about how sometimes when we are in the middle of a crisis, instead of crying out to God to fix it and get us out, we should take an honest look at ourselves and see if perhaps we didn't get ourselves into the mess through our own sin. Which is supposed to lead us to repentance, and a closer relationship to God, and other good things.

And I did not have an epiphany moment.

And as soon as the service ended, I remembered that we had locked ourselves out of our classroom and had to find a janitor to let us back in. So I raced out and found someone.

And waited nervously at our room for the kids to come. We waited.... and waited... and no one came.

And then we found out that choir practice had been scheduled and Sunday School had been cancelled.

I think there is a lesson somewhere in here for me to absorb.

So I'll just crawl into the corner and pick my nose for a bit until I figure it out.

Just kidding. That's gross.

Have a good Monday!

Friday, September 10, 2010

Woodworking Projects

Mr. San Antonio has been taking very good care of me this week. He did lots of dishes; he grilled awesome BBQ chicken; he tidied up things he knew I would like tidied up; he took out the trash and recycling; he complemented the pillows I recovered; he served me mint chocolate chip ice cream; and he built us an old fashioned wine table!

It is really incredible to me that the same strong arms that give me reassuring hugs, and sometimes tickle me until I can't speak, can turn around and get covered in saw dust and polyurethane and wood glue and can create something this beautiful out of his parent's garage.

We saw these wine tables all over France during our trip, and each time Mr. SA would squat down and inspect every detail. One time, after a thorough inspection, he stood up and said, "I could do that." And I had no doubts.

So when we got home he did some research, drew up a plan, and built this table. The semi-circular-ish piece in the middle is made to swivel so that the table can either lay flat (and be practical), or can be propped up (and just be beautiful).

Last weekend, as Mr. SA talked gave my family an update on the wine table, my brother casually mentioned that he had basically zero furniture to take with him for his big move out to California... and left his sentence suspiciously hanging...

So, Mr. SA took the bait and replied, "Why don't you come over and build something with me before you leave on Friday?"

My brother jumped at the opportunity. They decided that a coffee table would be both practical and easy to transport. So once again plans were drawn, wood was purchased, and the construction began. Then a couple days into it, the remnants of Tropical Storm Hermine decided to grace us with her presence. And the place where my brother had grown accustomed to parking his car, all of the sudden looked like this:

A side note: my brother had just purchased his car, and did not yet have insurance on it. Only by the grace of God had he decided that the storm was too intense, and had called Mr. SA to say he wouldn't be able to come help on the table. Otherwise that tree would have fallen smack dab on his new SUV. Crazy!

Another side note: That is the big ol' tree that I mentioned the other day - the same one I raced over to see after having found all our pillows piled on our bed.

Just wanted to bring all my blog posts full circle for you. You can thank me by sending flowers.

And in case you are more concerned with the outcome of the coffee table than what kind of flowers are my favorite... yes, the table did get finished.

I'd like to draw your attention to the exceptionally sanded legs on the table. Only someone with a delicate, feminine touch could sand that well. And really the whole table would not have come together at all if I had not kept the men hydrated with Sonic during their rigorous days of work. So basically, I built the table. But I'm sure that was obvious to you.

Didn't they do a lovely job?! I kind of want one now.... but I already got a wine table this week. And I shouldn't be so selfish.

But if you'd like one, just let me know! Mr. SA probably won't make you help with it, unless you are my other brother. Sorry man.

Have a good weekend everyone!
The Pampered Bird

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Pillow Fight - Continued

First of all I want to say thank you to everyone who reads this little blog I write. It has been very therapeutic for me since I started it in June. And I appreciate all the feedback I have received from you over the last few months. Please do not hesitate to leave a comment, or send me an email, or a Facebook post like Becky did last week.

Becky wrote to tell me that she and her husband have had similar "pillow fights". She also told me that I have really good taste, and that whatever I picked out for our pillows would be awesome.

Everyone needs a Becky in their life. Thanks Becky!

So, to follow up on our pillow fight...

On Tuesday the power went out at work and I spent the last three point five hours of work running up and down stairs making sure all the students stayed put in their classrooms until their parents arrived to pick them up from school. This is not my usual job description, but I figured with a major storm cutting through town I probably wouldn't make it to the gym, so I volunteered to run up and down stairs in heels for several hours.

By the time I got home I was exhausted. Mr. San Antonio had informed me that a very substantial tree had fallen across his parents driveway and that he was over there helping create diffuse chaos. So, when I walked into our humble caste and saw all our sofa cushions were missing, I logically assumed he had taken them over to his parents house to help control flooding; or remove tree limbs; or use as a flotation devise.

Then I took a couple of deep breaths, assured myself that Mr. San Antonio would never do such a thing to our sofa cushions, and went hunting for them. Not in the kitchen. Not in the second bedroom that doesn't actually have a bed or really anything other than chaos everywhere. Not in the bathroom. Not in the hallway. Oh, what's that sticky note doing on our bedroom door?

"A Taste of Things to Come...?"

Confused, and concerned, I slowly opened our bedroom door, and found this:

Every single pillow we owned had been strategically piled onto our bed. Because, apparently Mr. San Antonio has resigned himself to his future, and the fact that the appropriate number of pillows on a bed is: "infinite".

To give you perspective, our bed normally looks like this:

Minus the strange yellow/orange tint on everything. The important thing here is the number of pillows. There are precisely two practical pillows and three decorative ones which can also play the role of practical if one desires to read in bed. Therefore, if you process that logically, you'll discover that there are not enough pillows.

This on the other hand, is not far from what my dream bed would look like:

And when I saw it, I laughed out loud. Really. I was all by myself and I laughed. And then I drove over to see the fallen tree.

Later that evening I crawled onto one of our sofas and snuggled into one of our recovered pillows:

And told Mr. San Antonio that I really liked the way he had redecorated our bed.

It took him awhile to realize I was serious.

I'm not crazy am I?


Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Rodeo and Rollercoasters

Over the weekend Mr. San Antonio suggested that we stop by the Kendell County Rodeo. There was a time in my life when the thought, "hey, let's go to the rodeo this weekend", absolutely never crossed my mind. But that was then, and this is now, and this is the second rodeo I've been to in the last six months.

We got there just as the sun was setting and all the teeny-boppers were beginning to make their way to the carnival rides outside the arena.

As you can see, the Kendell County Rodeo is not the most populated event you've ever seen. But they have all the requirements for a pack-up-and-go carnival.

Windows you can see out of, but not into:

The chain smoker running the kiddy train ride:

And rollercoasters that are held together with super glue and chewing gum:

Mr. San Antonio's face is hidden in this photo. I'd claim it as artsy or something, but really it's just my camera, and my lack of knowledge on how to use it properly.

As soon as we entered the carnival and saw the little canisters rolling around this tube of metal, Mr. San Antonio said, "That's the one! We've got to go on that one!"

I tried desperately to inform him of my weak stomach. My inability to move in any direction other than forwards without my insides wanting to explode. My desire to always have my feet firmly planted on solid ground. But he would have none of it. He begged and bribed. And finally in my desire to not be the biggest weany on the planet, I agreed.

Here we are as we anticipated our ride:

You can see the anxiety on our faces. Especially Mr. San Antonio, because he's starting to wonder if maybe i hadn't exaggerated about my insides.

And here we are after the ride:

Mr. San Antonio was really excited that my innards stayed put during the ride. But he couldn't see my legs shaking, nor did he know the efforts I was going through to refocus my eyes on something stationary. He did however know that if I was going to be sick, I had no qualms about aiming for him. I made sure that was clear.

From there we went and watched the rodeo. The smells of horses and cows and bulls and sheep really helped calm my stomach down.

I actually took several "action shots" of mutton bustin', bull riding, barrel racing, and various events where kids ran through the mud and lost their boots. But like I said before, I don't know how to use my camera properly, so all those photos look like this:

And I can't really define any of them. But I'm pretty sure this one is the one of the kids who got stuck in the mud during a race to grab tags off of baby cows. Grabbing tags off of baby cows?

You can take the girl to the rodeo, but you can't make her understand it. And you probably shouldn't put her on a rollercoaster either.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Our Nephew

We had quite an eventful weekend. Unfortunately, I don't have the pictures on my computer yet, so... those stories will have to wait.

But one of the stories has to do with me almost getting sick all over Mr. San Antonio (no, I'm not announcing anything), and it was totally and completely all his fault. So stay tuned!

For today, I want to show off our little nephew. Not nearly enough time has been devoted to him in cyber-space, so today I will remedy that a bit. He just turned four months old. And he's smiling and laughing a lot now.

According to my sister-in-law's Facebook page this morning, he's also been making sounds reminiscent of "an angry cat fighting". I'm not sure if that's normal for babies. But I'm sure if Charlie is making the noise then it's a sign of high intelligence.

Look at that innocent, handsome face! He couldn't possibly make a sound like an angry cat!

"Hello, world. I am going to be a rocket scientist."

He also spends a lot of time in deep contemplative thought. This happens when his uncle makes crazy faces at him, when his grand-daddy takes him outside for botany lessons, and when his auntie whispers over and over in his ear, "Auntie Rissa is my favorite."  

Usually the deep thoughts consist of, "I am adopted right? Please tell me I'm adopted."

It's okay Charlie, we've all wondered the same thing. But you look exactly like your parents. So, just embrace it. And as the oldest cousin, the power is really in your hands. In ten years you'll be able to retaliate against your weird aunt and uncle by teaching our kids how to make socially inappropriate noises with their armpits.

And this is my favorite picture of our nephew. At least for now. He looks so much like his mom and dad with his big happy smile!

.....I want one.

And for that reason, Mr. San Antonio limits how many minutes a week I'm allowed to look at these pictures, and/or hold babies.

I better stop this post now.

Okay, that's it. I'm done. Promise.

Friday, September 3, 2010

Pillow Fight

Confession #246: Our marriage isn't perfect.

Occasionally we argue, fight, or "heavily discuss". I assumed that marriage would consist of these moments, but I also assumed that these moments would revolve around really deep and meaningful issues like, "how/where we will invest our money", or "what discipline methods will we use on our kids".

But we don't really argue about those things.

We debate things like "what is the appropriate number of decorative pillows that should be on the bed and sofas."

According to last night's heavy discussion, Mr. San Antonio thinks the number should be zero. And I firmly believe that the number is infinite.

This caused tension.

It all started when I tried to explain my obsession with some fabric I found online that I am determined to use to recover some of our living room pillows. He looked very confused. And not because he knows I don't know how to use a sewing machine.

"But we have a lot of pillows on the sofas..."
"I know."
"So... we don't need more, right?"
"Well, we could use more, but I'm willing to put that off for now, and just recover the ones we do have."
"But they're fine."
"No, they aren't."
"Well.... why aren't they fine?"
"Because they're ugly."

We moved on from there, and I tried to convey my passion to find "the perfect" accent pillows for our bed, that will make it "inviting, comforting, and romantic" all at the same time.

"But we have a lot of pillows on the bed..."
"No, we don't, we only have five, and two of them are practical."
"Well, I think our bed looks great and elegant."
"The bed frame looks great and elegant, but I don't like the pillows."
"Um.... ok. I have a purely practical question."
"Go ahead."
"Where are you supposed to put all those thing when they aren't on the bed?"
"That is not the point!"

And so it went. Back and forth. Until I was completely worked up.

Then this morning Mr. San Antonio sent me an email and lovingly referred to me as the "unquestioned head of the beauty department".

It's a good thing we live in an apartment and I can't just come home and repaint the walls. Because I already have paint colors lined up too.

Have a good weekend!

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Apology and the Gym

It's been a couple days since my last post, and it just occured to me that it might not have been the most "kid-friendly" post I've ever written. So, I apologize to all the parents out there who's children read these. And I know you exist... because a couple of your kids made an impromtu drop-by visit to our castle on Sunday.

One immediately asked me, "Are your flowers still alive? **chuckle chuckle**"

Another one peaked in the kitchen, and with bright expectant eyes asked, "Is that the fire breathing dragon?!"

And the third poked through our garage and asked, "Can I take all your empty boxes home to play with?"

I've never actually written about our garage full of empty boxes... but I'm really grateful for her willingness to rid me of the trash that I've accumulated in the disguise of, "I'm sure that one day I'll need this!"

That being said, I had a brain fade when I posted about the massaging neck pillow incident, and I sincerely hope that no unwanted conversations were sparked because of my lapse of judgement.

In other news...

At 5:30 this morning I was up, brushing my teeth, and sweating. And just in case you are confused, brushing your teeth is not generally a sweat inducing activity. It burns maybe 2 calories - and that's if I brush through the entire alphabet twice... which is doubtful.

For the sake of full disclosure, Mr. San Antonio and I were awake at 5:30am so we could go to the gym. But we don't really go to the gym to stay fit, or to maintain our health, or because we care about how we look. Oh no. We go to the gym at 5:30am because we are dying from the heat and need to cool off.

And it is the highlight of our day to be able to take a shower at the gym because we can step out of the shower and not immediately start sweating again. At the gym I can even blow dry my hair without worrying that I might have to take another shower afterwards. And it is so nice to put on my makeup without having to fan my underarms between the mascara step and the blush step. Again, in case you are confused, applying make-up is not generally a sweat inducing activity. In fact I don't think it even burns 2 calories, regardless of how long it takes you.

So, praise the Lord for providing air conditioning via the gym this morning. My armpits are grateful. And so are my co-workers.


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