Birthday of Champions

Yesterday was mamasita's 54th Birthday. She said she liked being 45 more than being 54. What a nutter. The whole family (minus Pittsburgh Sister Vicky) was there. We had pulled pork samiches via mom's request, Kenner's home-made-with-pride Baked Beans that were scraped clean by the consumers, we had fruit kabobs assembled by the lovely Ms. Andi, veggies galore provided by Teener Weiner, and cupcakes from The Cocoa Bean brought by the Schmarcums. Oh. My. Gosh. Have you had those cuppy cakes before? They were incredible. They got a collage of different flavors: Vanilla Vanilla Madagascar, Better than Whatever, Caramel Apple, Raspberry Lemon, Brownie Explosion, Pumpkin Chocolate Chip, Red Velvet Mousse, Party in My Mouth, on and on. There were probably 20 cupcakes. We ended up cutting a bunch of them in half and I think every body got a decent helping of what they wanted. I probably had more than a decent helping than some other people. In my defense, I la-hove cuppy cakes and I truly believe in committing one's self to the things they love.

My dad's brother Craig was there vi sting from Texas. He brought his youngest Angela. He calls her "Baby Girl." But you see... Angela is his Baby Girl- Andi is my dad's Baby Girl- and Josslynn is Krissy's Baby Girl. We had three Baby Girls. Baby Girls have a certain cuteness about them. I'm Middle Girl. Not the same cute ring huh? Craig also brought his wife Rosa. She is from Chile. He met and baptized her when he served his mission there. Years later, after Craig had had his family and worked and all that... things didn't work out with him and Susan. He went back to Chile, found and married Rosa. She was really a sweet heart. Can't hardly speak two words of English but you can just feel her happiness and warmth. I wonder if people can feel that in me.... something to work towards.
We mostly sat around on the deck and laughed. About old boyfriends, schoolmates, bands, pool stunts, etc. Julie put her kabob sticks in her hair in order to look like a Muppet. We did do a round of Bocce. Rojo won. Verde lost. The boys made a flew their airplanes mom got them from the Dollar Store. They flew them into the neighbors yard and instead of sending the boys through the teeny tiny itty bitty gap in the fence, my Dad said he'd get them for the boys. It was a tight squeeze. And very funny.
My mom had a Happy Birthday. She told me this morning. I know you think you have the best mom. And maybe she is for you. But not for me. My mom is my best mom. No doubt about it.

The Carnage

Yesterday Ken and I took an afternoon nap together. (Are we not the cutest newlyweds ever?) It was during that outrageous storm and I kept thinking all that lightning was like in a movie when something bad or ominous was about to happen. We slept for a good 2 hours. It felt spectacular. Ken got up and went out into the living room. I heard him say, "RUSTY!!! NOOOO!" I figured it was another remote control Rusty had attacked. I was wrong. Ken came into the bedroom where I was trying to wake up. He held up the carnage.

I cried.

Dream Job

I've been putting a lot of thought into jobs lately. We, as a society, tend to make everything a job. Having a job is a job. Driving to work is a job. Getting home on time, getting dinner ready, putting kids to bed (to whom that applies) are jobs. Even things people say are enjoyable can be turned into jobs. For instance, working out. Those gym rats love to do it- but it's a job. Getting there, exercising, showering, what a chore. I think this is all a little out there. Then there's all the other definitions of job. "Those crooks made out pretty well on that bank job." "The Italian Job." Good movie. "That little 4-bopper was one of the best jobs I've owned." See? It could even be a car. "That break-up really did a job on her." Need I say more?
I want to talk about a dream job. A post of employment. I la-hove my job. It's the bomb-jiggity-boo. I love dressing up for work everyday. I love having an excuse to buy new heels. I love answering the phone. I love signing documents. I love typing. I love having a PO Box to check. I love returning calls. I love being smart. I love being a career woman. (P.S. According to google images all career women must be Chinese. Only pic available.) But, as much as I love sitting in my big leather chair I'd give it all up to work at Subway. I'm not even kidding. 8 times out of 10 when I go there I see the help wanted sign surrounded by juicy crispy veggies and I think... that would be heaven. I have put some serious thought into this! There are pros and cons. So, pros. I would get to make sandwiches all day. And not crap shoot Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches. Real, meaty, maybe even double-meat sandwiches. I get to make it exactly how someone wants it. That is guarantee customer satisfaction. Next, Subway would be a nice easy job. I am already familiar with all their products. Bread, yup heard of that. Lunch meat, mmm hmmm, yup, know that too. Cheese, I consider myself a pro. Veggies, not my favorite- but on a sandwich they aren't too bad. Eating Fresh? One of my specialities! Cookies and Chips- I wish I could claim credit for inventing them. Check. I'd be relatively easy to train. I can only think of 2 cons. First, I am probably over-qualified. But if Subway is the Equal Opportunity Employer they say they are- they can't hold that against me. And second- I bet they wouldn't pay me all that well.
But can you really put a price on your dream job?