fughetta 'bout it

 

Jessica and I took Aidan to New Jersey this weekend. We had a great time and I will post more pictures soon...

tidbits

I can't believe I didn't even dedicate a post to my dog on her birthday. What kind of mom am I?

About to go to the airport to pick up Jessica and Aidan - they stay here tonight and then we head to the "Jersey shore" tomorrow!

Can't wait to find out if I'm going to be an Aunt to another niece or nephew.

I'm considering getting back together with my old hairdresser. A "break" can be good for a couple, right?

Loving that I have a job with Spring Break. Hating that I am in school and have work that needs to be done over said break.

There is an unopened bag of spinach salad in my fridge that is going to rot, as I know Larry won't eat it while I'm gone.

Hawaiian Punch makes jellybeans.

and the winner is...

Movies nominated for “Best Picture:” 11

How many of the 11 I’ve seen: 1 (The Blind Side)

The only reason I’ve seen that 1 movie: because it was about football and I could drag the boy to see it

Rating of the 1 movie I saw: two thumbs up

Movies I would have watched if I went to the movies more than once a year: Avatar, Crazy Heart, Precious and Up

Movies I’ve never heard of: District 9, An Education, A Serious Man

Movie that an 18 year old boy said was horrible but the rest of the world seemed to love: The Hurt Locker

Movie that I will rent when I either finish grad school or am too sick to leave the house and have a few hours to spare: Up

lol smiley face

I've been meaning to talk to everybody for awhile about something. What in the heck is going on with poppy rap music these days?!? I used to listen to it all the time - I would play it in my classroom since it was kind of a happy medium that everyone could tolerate. (Well, MOSTLY everyone.) So I used to stay really current and would know all of the songs and actually like some of them. You may or may not find several on my ipod. But now that I'm not working with 15-18 year olds, I don't listen to it that often. However, for some reason my radio was on 96.7 today on the way home from work today and I was reminded what I wanted to blog about.

Let's start with this:

"Sexy Bi#ch" by David Guerra....
"She's nothing like a girl you've ever seen before

Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood hoe

I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl

Without being disrespectful"

Um, sorry David, but you're a little late on the whole "being disrespectful" thing. I appreciate your sentiments in regards to not wanting to compare her to the neighborhood hoe, but seriously.

How about the class-act himself - Lil' Wayne:
"My Room Is The G Spot,

Call Me Mr. Flintstone,

I Can Make Your Bed Rock (oooh..)

I-I-I I Can Make Your Bed Rock(oh ho oh...)

I-I-I I Can Make Your Bed Rock Girl"

Lil', listen to me. (May I call you Lil?)
A.) The people listening to your music probably don't even know who Fred Flintstone is, unless they still make Flintstone vitamins.
B.) Your room is the G Spot? Did you read these lyrics before you sang them?
C.) I don't know much about street cred, but I'm guessing that this song does NOTHING for yours.

And finally, I heard a mother put her 3 year old on to request the song "LOL Smiley Face" by Trey Songz. The child was singing "lol smiley face, lol smiley face" and I was all, "how cute!" Then I heard the song:
"Shorty just text me, say she want to sex me

LOL smiley face, LOL smiley face

Shorty sent a twitpic saying come and get this,

LOL smiley face, LOL smiley face"

Um, mother of said 3 year old? Perhaps you could throw on a Dora or Backyardigan's cd in lieu of teaching your child about sexting. Then again, I'm not a mom, so maybe I'm way off base.

Fortunately it is Wednesday and all I have to do is throw up a random nugget that lives in the "Miscellaneous" photo folder of my computer:

I'll be back once I'm all caught up on other things like work and school.

I pledge allegiance....

I noticed something the other day when I looked at this childhood picture:

Well, the first thing I noticed was that Sarah and I were little fashionistas. We somehow knew that Sarah, with her olive skin, would look better in pastel pink than I would. (Although we did go a *bit* heavy on the rouge.) Poor Jessica got the leftovers when it came to dressing up. But she was so durn cute, so it didn't really matter what she wore. (I'm guessing that it was one of my little brothers that took this picture - based on the fact that the tops of our heads are cut off. Although, it looks like we both had questionable haircuts, so he probably did us a favor.) Anyway.... do you see what I'm doing with my hand? It's like I'm ready to say the pledge of allegiance. It wouldn't be noteworthy if it wasn't for this:

Here I am, about 20 years later, still saying the pledge in my photographs. What's up with that?

I'll be absent from the blogosphere for at least a week, as I'm headed to Knoxville to "present" my paper and get all published and what not. Try not to miss me TOO much.

oh heavenly day

So, one of my new favorite blogs to read is Enjoying the Small Things. She takes beautiful pictures and is an amazing writer. If you have any soul at all, her post about giving birth will move you. It is so raw, so honest, so touching. Read it.

But today she talks about a quote that a reader left in her comment section. The quote says:

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day, I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return."

I read this quote and I paused. Because normal days truly are treasures. They are the way we spend the majority of our lives, yet so often we wish them away. Instead, we should all take a deep breath, listen to "Heavenly Day" by Patty Griffin, look around, be thankful for all of our blessings and smile.