For the love of a foreigner.

With the head secretary out today I had to answer the big wig's phone. I was given a heads up to decline an invitation to a conference call from someone name Greg. Here's how the call went.

So- and-so's office, Katie speaking.

"Is so-and-so available?" said the warm male voice in a smooth british accent.

I'm sorry so-and-so's on the way to the airport to catch a flight. May I ask who's calling?

"This is Mike Miller. One of my associates, Greg, contacted s-a-s about attending a conference and had arranged to get back to them today," replied the butterly smooth accent.

I see, s-a-s left me with a message for you. They thank you for the offer but due to a conflict they must politely decline to attend. (yes I do speak like this)

"Alright. That's about what I needed. Cheers. "
And so ended my conversation with the man whom will surely be the reader of the next #1 best selling audio book.

I got all giddy and excited after the phone call. For 5 minutes I repeatedly said "cheers" to myself and giggled.

I'm a sucker for accents. British, australian, german, sweedish, russian, chinese, and even local ones like Minesotan and texan. I have no idea when it started, but I know that I had a huge crush on a foreign exchange student from Australia who attended a different school when I was 16. His name was Dave, but when he said it, it sounded a bit like "Dove."

After I got engaged to Jeff, my Mom told me she always thought I would marry a foreigner. Strange how I ended up marrying the boy next door instead.

Maybe I can encourage one of my daughters to marry someone from 'across the pond.'

To sleep or not to sleep

Last night Alaina, Jeff, and Kayla were all asleep by 8:30.

I started some laundry, then sat down with a book and the cat came to join me on the couch.

It was heaven.

No TV, no talking, no phone calls.

Just me, the cat, a couch, and a good book.

Of course I sat there is the quiet until 10:30 pm and then I made myself a Husker shirt.

Yep, I put the 'fan' in fanatic.

But the more important question is, why does it feel so much better to have stayed up late in a quiet house versus getting three extra hours of sleep?

Pressure Princess

I went to pick up pizza (Yay cheese!) on Saturday and had to stop and gas up my minivan which lead to checking my tire pressure and consequentially airing up the tires.

As I'm airing up my tires, a white car pulls in beside me. Other than making sure I'm out of their way as I air up the front passenger tire, I don't pay attention to them.

So I'm a little startled to see the middle aged man staring at me after I've finished with the last tire.

He waits until I replace the hose before he steps forward and says:

I'm standing here trying to figure out who taught you how to do that.

Do what?

Check your tires and air them up. You even have your own gauge!

I grew up on a farm. My dad taught me.

That makes sense, because you obviously can't be married.

Actually I am.

But its the husband's job to do that! (gesturing toward the van)

Really? I'm surprised you think that way. Because I drive a MINIVAN. What about this vehicle says that a man wants to be in charge of it? Its my van, I take care of it.

He laughs and I leave.

I had no idea where the conversation was going the entire time, but all I could think was

Was he standing behind me staring at my butt the entire time I was checking the passenger side?

I swear I did my homework!

This morning on the radio they were talking about the SNL spoof of that new vampire-pretty-boy movie in which all the 'pretty-boys' are Frankensteins instead of vampires.

Then the talk show hosts started talking about the background of Frankenstein. In the spoof, the kids went around accidentally choking other people, so they talked about how Frankenstein was created by putting a brain in the body of a big dead guy, sewing the head shut, and he kept crushing beautiful things because he was trying to 'capture' beauty.

My brains initial response was . . . . . .WHAT???

That's not even close to true! Obviously they've never read the book because in the book he . . .

he . . .

Oh crud.

I can't remember Frankenstein!

I read it 7 years ago for a college class and was pissed because the teacher was talking about the homosexual relationship between the monster and Doctor Frankenstein (a load of horse apples) where I wanted to talk about how it could be viewed as a heartbreaking story of a parent figure who has trouble loving their child because they are less than perfect (probably also a load of horse apples.)

So I sat there is my car fuming because these DJs only knew the Hollywood version of Frankenstein and I couldn't remember the literary version. I am soooo disappointed in myself.

At least we can compromise and stick to the Robert DeNiro, Kenneth Branagh, and Helena Bonham Carter movie version which is much closer to the novel than tall, green, and bolty.

All of this has added a new label for me for posts because I reread this and realized how snotty I sound.

Conversing to compromise

I ventured out and bought some clothes for Alaina and Kayla, forgetting how one size can vary depending upon the store.

Alaina now has a bunch of huge pants and shirts to save for next year, but I found a belt on a 2T outfit I bought two years ago that I'm trying to use to prevent a second, smaller size shopping trip.

But Alaina thinks that belts are toys. I have one good belt that frequently surfaces in the toy box after Alaina has used it as either a leash for an animal, a rope, or a band aide to wrap someone up like a Gothic mummy.

Jeff gets really disturbed seeing Alaina dragging around an animal wearing the belt. (They end up looking like they are trussed up for an S and M session. Creepy!)

Anyway . . .
Trying to get Alaina to wear the belt end up with us having logical little conversations like this:

Alaina, if you are going to wear your belt today, you can't take it off and play with it, it isn't a toy.

OK.

If you take it off, Miss N will have to put it in your cubby.

Except for Nap Time.

What?

I don't have to wear my belt for nap time because it will poke me in the tummy and hurt me.

Okay, you can have Miss N put it in your cubby for nap time.

I can just put it under my cot with my shoes and then put it back on after nap time.

Oh, ummm. . . fair enough. you can do that.

Yes I can.

And I can't decide if I hallucinated it or if she really did use the word 'except.'
Way to go Alaina!

Now if I can just find a school that teaches grammar skills I'll have a great politician in training!

The end is here!

The diet has ended! Pending any screaming/fussing I have begun to fully embrace dairy and soy again.

I've celebrated by eating these items:
A cheese runza
An apple struesel bagel with chocolate chipcream cheese
A reese's peanut butter cup
A snickers bar
Adding parmasan cheese to my spaghetti sauce
A shortbread cookie
Broccoli Cheese soup from Panera
Frosted (not just iced) Animal crackers
A bacon cheese burger

And finally, by adding so much cream to my coffee that it is officially a cafe au lait.

There are only a few things left I haven't eaten in my feeding frenzy . .
Pizza Hut Pizza
Yogurt
Ice Cream
Juice Stop

After that, the feast will be complete!

So good bye MSPI!

How many days until Thanksgiving?

Fall fun