Crunchy Thoughts

The thoughts are crunchier here.

May 15, 2012
by Carrie
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fickle fashionista

After a round of clothes shopping, I show off my spoils to Lydia. She oohs and aahs over the t-shirts emblazoned with Wonder Woman and The Avengers. Then I pull out the pièce de résistance, a summery pink and white dress for the upcoming birthday pictures. Lydia let out a squeal that oozed of rainbows and unicorns.

“You like it?” I ask, amused by her squeak.

Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she begins to cry and she says, “Nooo, I don’t like that.” Yikes. I think her squeal was really more of a shriek.

“Aww, why don’t you like it,” I ask as I begin to search for the receipt.

“I don’t like it!” she cries.

“But I thought you like the color pink,” I continue, grasping at straws.

At that, she quickly ends the waterworks, perks up, and states, “Oh. Okay. I like it.”

I’m still holding on to that receipt, just in case.

April 30, 2012
by Carrie
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spring lock

Lately it seems our house is falling to pieces. Our kitchen faucet is starting to get a bit leaky on us. The kitchen light became possessed by a rogue demon and had to be replaced, but not before a minor casualty involving the new light, unpreparedness, and gravity. It’s like we’re being attacked around here.

This morning as I first roll out of bed I go to pee first, as all people do. I don’t truly wake up until the shower water hits me so I’m still pretty groggy as I move to open the Poo Parlor door (our potty has its own closet) and SMACK! I run right into the door before it opens. I make to open the door for real and . . . the knob doesn’t turn. Eh? Now I’m starting to wake up and I’m thinking, “I’m not THAT asleep, right? I can open the door, right? It’s not locked, I’m not an idiot; it’s not locked.”

After a few more unsuccessful tries I was really awake and apparently stuck to boot. I make enough noise to get Steven to see what the hell I’m doing. It takes us another ten minutes to get me out of there. Steven eventually had to take the door off the hinges; removing the doorknob did nothing except give us a peephole.

When Lydia woke up later in the morning — banging the hinges off surprisingly didn’t pop her right out of bed — I told her my now-funny story. She had me retell it multiple times and even went to tour the damage.

Now there’s a knobless door leaning against our bedroom wall, another item on the home improvement store list. Well, it could be worse. At least I didn’t get locked in there after releasing a huge global killer.

April 26, 2012
by Carrie
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in a rush to brush

This morning Lydia and I took an excursion north towards Birmingham for her dentist appointment. We only had to go up three exits, so I took my chances with the interstate.

Alas, I-65 began to back up about a mile before we needed to get off. Lydia was amazed by all the cars.

“Wow, look at all the people!” Lydia exclaimed. “Everybody is going to the dentist!”

April 7, 2012
by Carrie
3 Comments

rednecks are our friends (and i’ll be nice to them)

Steven didn’t mow the lawn until lunchtime today. The party next door, crowded as it was, was surprisingly tame compared to previous siorées. Around 10:30 last night I peeked out the window and counted 17 cars along the road, and thought we were in for another doozie.

Later today we were outside with Lydia (Sam was napping) when the main Frat and actual house owner, Nathan, came over to check that the party didn’t disturb us at all. We assured him it really had not been bad. Not like that last one, har har.

Nathan was concerned about whether the party music had bothered us. In fact, the Black Gate of Chelsea constructed out of pickup trucks that I described yesterday was intended to block sound coming out of the garage. Rather touching, actually.

Then all the happy things clicked at once: Lydia played sweetly by herself, the weather hit the perfect temperature and humidity, and we had a real conversation with the next door neighbor.

By the end of the afternoon, we had toured each other’s basements, they gave Steven a six-pack of beer plus one, and in true redneck fashion, they pulled down a dead tree that straddled the property line with one of their rumbling trucks and a tow line.

By the bye, this tree died not long after Steven peed on it. Coincidence? I think not.

As Steven sipped a cold Dos Equis this evening, he turned to me and mused, “You know, I think I take everything back I said about the neighbors.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “I think I take about half of it back at least.”

April 6, 2012
by Carrie
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It’s my birthday and i’ll frat if i want to

This afternoon there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find one of the next-door redneck neighbors.

“Oh crap,” I thought. It was Fuzzy, the owner of Sir Shits-A-Lot. We had just shoveled over another load of poop over to their yard a day’s previous.

“Hey, I’m Ron from next door.” he says. “Today’s my birthday.”

“Um, happy birthday,” I replied. What, are you looking for cookies?

“I’m having some friends over tonight,” he begins, “and I just wanted to give you my number in case anything happens or whatever, just call or text me.”

So now I have this guy’s cell phone written on my hand and the fratty redneck neighbors have created the Black Gate of Chelsea across their garage with lifted trucks.

Steven and I figure if the party gets out of hand he will just mow the lawn tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m., when the hangovers are still fresh.

March 12, 2012
by Carrie
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turd wars

Since the loud and obnoxious antics of the beginning of the year, we have settled into a more subtle kind of cold war with the neighbors. We did receive feedback from the mythical HOA — they consider it a serious situation and they are watching it closely — and there have been no more parties. No more loud ones, at least. Straw was laid over the tracks dug into the neighbor’s yard. If we see each other while we’re outside, they wave casually, and we wave back. Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave.

About a month ago they completed their little redneck family with the addition of a hyper black Labrador Retriever. I’m not sure what his name is, but they should call him Sir Shits-A-Lot, ’cause he does. In our lawn. We found this out with our feet first, but we’ve learned to venture into the backyard with shovels.

At first, Steven was nice. “Hey man, I think your dog’s been pooping in our yard.” Fuzzy Redneck assures us they keep a watch on the dog and they don’t let him go in the other yards, but they’d make sure.

*Squish!* But still there was poop.

My theory is they let the dog out in the middle of the night when they’re hungover or dead tired and off the dog goes tromping, and boy does he love our yard. Once I came outside to see Fuzzy Redneck walking out of our yard with a shovel, cleaning up after the dog.

*Squish!* Still more poop.

Last weekend Steven scalped down the yard in preparation for spring. I hoped the shorter grass would keep Poopy Puppy away; perhaps the shaggy winter overcoat of dead grass doubled as a great bootie wipe.

*Squish!* Alas, tons of more poop this weekend. I deal with enough poop from the kids and the cats (especially the cats); I don’t want to be dealing with this!

So I shoveled up all the poop, then FWUMPPP! down into a pile at the bottom of their deck steps.

Now it’s their turn to squish.

February 27, 2012
by Carrie
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speed demon

“Mama, are you going fast?” Lydia asked me from the backseat this morning.

“Yes, I can go pretty fast on this road.” The speed limit is 50 miles an hour.

“Oh. Don’t go fast, Mama. I don’t want the policeman to get you.”

January 19, 2012
by Carrie
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stalling

Last night after we got Lydia into bed for the night, there was the inevitable *click* of the door opening back up not two minutes after the kisses and bear hugs routine. I went to investigate.

“I need fresh water,” Lydia said, holding out her sippy cup. The sippy cup of water is a bad habit we started a year or so ago in a fit of desperation when she wasn’t sleeping well. Never make serious sippy cup decisions under duress.

“That is fresh water, sweetie,” I replied. “I just filled it up for you.”

“No it’s not. I need fresh water.”

“But it is fresh water.”

No. I need fresh water. It’s not fresh.”

“That is fresh water. You need to go to bed.”

“But I need fresh water.”

“That is fresh water. I filled it up for you just now. You need to go to bed.”

“But I need fresh water.”

“Do you want this cup or not?”

“I need fresh water.”

“Either you can take this cup or you don’t want it and I can have it.” Then I made to take the cup away.

“No! It’s my cup!”

I hand her the cup back.

“But I need fresh water.”

“Go to bed.”

January 16, 2012
by Carrie
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the nose knows

Lydia: “I smell a choo-choo train.”

Me: “Oh do you? What does a choo-choo train smell like?”

Lydia: “Boys.”

Me: “Oh. Well, what do boys smell like?”

Lydia, grinning: “Tee-Tee!”