D is for duck. Also for dumb.

Yesterday was my last fully monster kid-free day.

Oh, such plans I had.

But instead of fulfilling grand plans, I saved this duckling from almost certain annihilation.

What I really meant to do was go pick out my 15 bucks worth of free stuff at the scrapbook store. It (the duckling, not the free stuff) was running next to the median when I pulled up to the light in front of the store. By the time I had parked, the dumb thing was trying to cross the road. After 3 tries and more than a few smoking tires later, it made it to my side of the road and immediately tried to go back into traffic. Yeah. Where the big tires go squish. What's a girl to do? Well, if you're an idiotic girl like me, you chase it up under the overpass and catch it. So, there I am, standing next to the car with a baby duck clenched in my fat fist. I had already walked around looking for it's Mom, called the hubs hoping for sage advice and stood next to the road looking helpless so that someone would come over and say, "here ma'am let me take care of that for you. I can tell you have some paper shopping to do." The next step seemed to be to drive home, one handed, and decide where to go from there. So that's what I did. I dumped ducky in an empty trash can and called everybody I could think of that should know what to do with a duckling. Giving it to my sister's creepy neighbor and trying to keep it alive for a few more weeks until it can fend for itself in the duck pond over yonder were the 2 best options. Grrrrr. Options my ass.

But, then the thought-the wonderful all knowing Internet will save me! Turns out it's illegal to keep Mallards (I was pretty sure this one was a Mallard), another mommy duck would just kill it and; surprisingly enough, it's also frowned upon to hand over fuzzy baby ducks to creepy neighbors that have ruined more than one kid and don't need a chance at another one. What you are supposed to do is hand it over to a wildlife rehabilitation specialist. After a few phone calls and a looong car ride that took me north of Bountiful, that's exactly what I did. Yes, I said north of Bountiful.

Did I mention I'm an idiot? 

Yesterday was kind of like when you get in one checkout line in the grocery store and you stand there until it stops moving and you think, "I could go over there or there!" but you know that as soon as you move, THAT line will stop moving so you just stick with the line you're in until every body in those other lines is gone and you realize you really should have just moved to a different line. I figured it was stupid to just let the duckling die after I had gone to such pains to save it and I may as well finish it up. Of course, I thought this before I got lost trying to find the damned place and WAY before the duck got loose in the car and I was parked on a freeway off-ramp in North Salt Lake trying to pull it out of the vent in which it was trying to crawl. By the time I dumped dummy off, I had just enough time to race (and by race I mean carefully, obeying the speed limit and all traffic laws) back home, finally eat breakfast (breakfast!) and unlock the door for Thomas before I left to get Turner from school. I'm pretty sure next time I'm just going to close my eyes and let natural selection do it's dirty work. I'm also pretty sure this fulfills my Good Samaritan (also my what the hell were you thinking?) quota for the month.

 So, if you need a favor, hit me up in July.     

City Livin'

Here's the thing.

 Nobody pays attention to car alarms anymore.

They've become so ubiquitous that it's not really alarming

 when they go off. Just REALLY annoying.

So, for example, if your stupid car alarm goes off at, oh, let's say, 2:10 in the freaking a.m.!!! and you just let it shriek and shriek and shriek because you're a total asshat. But then I happen to peek out the window and see masked bandits tip-toeing around said car. Not only will I not do anything to hinder whatever nefarious intent they might have pertaining to your car, I'll probably be out there holding the Slim Jim and a plate of cookies.

Take Note

I feel like I haven't slept since the Clinton administration.

Note to self:

If you insist on consuming 32 ounces of Coke or 2 cups of coffee right before bed then you shouldn't be surprised when you wake up every 20 minutes to stare at the clock and listen to the loop in your head of  Beyonce singing "If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it."  You also need to keep in mind that this kind of behavior usually leads to the mid-morning nose smash into the arm of the couch. Losing sight of the fact that you're WAY too far past your sell-by date to do this kind of crap anymore will leave you helplessly face-down in a puddle of drool with the Single Ladies lyrics now distorted into such gems as "if it's stinky then you shouldn't have put your butt on it", "it's a toilet but you really shouldn't pee on it" and "that's my T.V. so you're never watching Glee on it". Really groundbreaking stuff there. Your Mother would be so proud.

 No Coke for you!



OWH Challenge Cards

These aren't the first cards I've made that started out as a challenge on another blog. However, these are the first to actually get posted instead of thrown into the pile. Let me point out that I am posting these a day late in case you were starting to believe I had been replaced by a pod person.

The first 2 were started in response to the Operation Write Home Midweek Challenge. I couldn't pick a favorite so I just posted both.

 The last one is up simply for the fact that it was the best example of how cute my 2 new the precious border punches are.

Don't worry too much. I'll be obsessed with something new by next week.

Stars and Stripes

I bought this wood way back in March and then, me being me, didn't get it made for it's intended holiday. For once, my lack of follow through worked out rather nicely. I would never have made this if I hadn't had the wood taunting me from the corner of the bedroom. I have been loving the subway word art stuff that has been making the rounds on Pinterest but didn't want to just print something. It was a big pain getting everything lined up and I fretted over the paint technique for more days than I care to admit but I think this time it might have been worth it. 

My only wish is that the front of this had been wood instead of mdf so that I could have really had a grainier look to the letters. Next time I suppose.

Side shot to see the flourish I put on the sides.

A close up of the flourish because it is, after all, the best part. I do love me a good flourish!

Thursday's Thoughts

Random...

I should be embarrassed at how ridiculously happy it makes me to have this sitting here.

Not, surprisingly enough, because it's full of Pepsi and limes but because you just can't go wrong with a glass this freakin' sweet. Nothing but a red straw of course. I actually had a green straw but when I realized what I'd done, I went back and switched for a red. Hello!?! Darth Vader doesn't do green.

This actually came in a set of 4 that I bought awhile back. I prefer this one above all but WILL drink out of Han Solo and if I have to; Princess Leia. I refuse to drink out of the Luke Skywalker glass though. That whiny old poop.

I love Thursday. It's the day when I start to feel like I might have a fighting chance to actually make it to the end of another week. Something that usually seems beyond impossible when my alarm goes off at 5 a.m. on Monday morning. It also means that my alarm won't go off before 7 a.m. until Monday rolls around again. To a night owl that can't ever seem to get enough rest, this is no small thing. Depending on how out of it I am, it can take awhile before I realize this. When it dawns on me that I have three whole days with no early wake-up call, it feels like I've been handed a gift. If the week has been a bad one, maybe being given a reprieve from the Warden might be a more apt description.

As I puttered around the house today, The Outlaw Josey Wales has been on in the background. Definitely in the Clint Eastwood top 5. Trust me. If you haven't heard, "Well are you gonna pull those pistols or whistle Dixie?" recently, you're living your life wrong. One caveat; steel yourself against the moment when you start hoping Clint rides in and shoots Sondra Locke instead of saving her from Comancheros. No matter how teeth gratingly bad she gets you just have to remind yourself that when somebody is sleeping with the director of a movie, being fired for lack of talent isn't usually an option.

I've been researching phrases to use on my 4th of July subway art thingy. Which is, by the way, looking to be freakin' awesome. (If you didn't say awesome in a high sing-songy voice, read that last sentence again and do it right this time. I'll wait.) Turns out I am more of an ignorant hayseed than previously thought. My whole life I thought that God Bless America started with that exact line. There is a whole verse before you launch into "God bless America, land that I love" etc... One of the reasons some people give for wanting to change the national anthem to that same song is because of the war-themed lyrics to The Star Spangled Banner. Huh. I always thought that the reason I am at my most blood thirsty after hearing The Star Spangled Banner was because of the way anybody singing it nowadays morphs into an American Idol contestant as soon as the music starts. Turns out it was the lyrics this whole time.  Also, did you know that abolitionists wrote 6 slavery themed verses to My Country, 'Tis of Thee? And, that the 5th verse to the same song was written to celebrate George Washington's Centennial? I didn't. Now I'm going to lay awake wondering about all of the other important tidbits of knowledge to which I am ignorant. And because I can't stop singing all these damned songs in my head.

I'm bracing for a long weekend people.

Le Sigh.

Oy, this book already.

 One of my BFF's little brother got married last month. Since I made a book for all of his siblings, (Jenna doesn't count because she got married when I was just starting to really scrapbook and how sad would that book have been?) I had to make one for him. Also, if you've known someone since they were passing the sacrament in a green suit and bowl haircut, you can't just pick up some dish towels at Wal-Mart ya know? So, I found out what their colors were, ignored them and bought this paper. This is kind of pink and silvery gray right?

Anyway, I brought it home, got the covers done and...nothing. Nothing! It just sat there; like a spider, staring at me every night as I spread it out and couldn't make it match the picture I had in my head. Ugh. Do you ever have something completely figured out in your head and when it doesn't come together the way it's supposed to, you sort of freeze up? Kind of like your brain's self esteem takes too hard of a hit and it's too busy sitting around in sweats and eating ice cream to work properly. The week before the wedding, I just gave up, switched to an already assembled chipboard book and slapped another book together. It only took me a day and a half.  Now, don't get me wrong. I think it turned out fine but it wasn't what I started out to make.

Le sigh.

When I got home from the wedding, I realized that I had enough paper to keep going on this one and truthfully, probably throw together another one. (When I'm looking at Graphic 45 paper, I seem to have some type of mini-stroke or something that leaves me without enough control over my brain to stop myself from buying too much. I need help. Maybe even medication.) To make a long story slightly less long than it could have been; I kept going and here is the long winded, overly dramatized result. Why didn't you tell me to shut up a year ago?  Yes, I know it's missing all of the froufrou that would make it a true G45 piece but I just can't manage to do it. Like I said last time, please don't go look on their gallery and compare. It will just make you feel sorry for me. Again. 

Okay. I know there are WAY too many pictures. But, the light was wrong for the first ones even though they're the best pictures so I added some others that my sister took that show the colors better and then I had to throw in some of the artsy fartsy ones that Turner took because I paid good candy (chocolate, no less) for those and I'll be damned if I'm gonna waste 'em.

A few stats:
The whole book is 12x8. Each set of flaps graduates from 6 inches wide down to 4.
Obviously, the back side of each flap was left empty for pictures.
I made it so that it can act as a display or just as a (mostly) flat album.
I'm still on the fence about whether I should put a clasp or something
 as a closure or just leave it as is.



 

Warning! Picture Dump!

Happy May!

 After these highlights, we will both agree to

never mention April again. Stupid April.



Turner won Viking of the Quarter.
The best part about that? They give you a
Viking helmet to take home and keep for your very own.
 It really fit Turner's head well as you can see.

Here she is wrestling with her helmet before she had to put it back in it's
cage for the night.



More pictorial proof that Thomas is a direct descendant of the originator
 of Mad Professor hair, Grandpa Gary.

With a little effort and a lot of water, it CAN be tamed!

Too bad the same can't be said for Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum here.





Suzie talked me into finally opening the 3 pound gummy bear I got from
 Mr. and Mrs. Courtney Pants for my birthday. Gnawing through it turned
 out to be more of a chore than we thought.



This is what you get when you send the girls to their
room to take care of the pigsty...

Turner running around with a bouncy ball in her dress, yelling
 about her big butt with Suzie rolling on the floor in hysterics.

AND the best for last.
This is Sam's "Baby Peach" face that he wears
 about 92% of the time because he is; after all,
 the most picked on 11 year old in the world.
Just ask him.

Venting...

Sam got suspended from school today.

 I. AM. PISSED.

Royally pissed. But; surprisingly enough, not at him and not really because he was suspended. The how and why is what has me foaming at the mouth.

 The whole thing started yesterday with Sam trying to break up a fight between one of his friends and the kid who has been bullying said friend all year. This bully walked out of the school and had punched Sam's friend 3 times before Sam got there to intervene. When Suzie came out of the school and saw Sam in the middle of it she jumped in and pushed the bully kid off of Sam. For her trouble she got stomped on her bruised foot and punched in the side. Needless to say, Sam saw red at this point and punched the kid in the jaw. According to the Principal, Sam should have left well enough alone. AND it was supposedly Suzie's fault that she got hurt because she should have run for a teacher and left Sam to his own devices. In what kind of messed up world do we live when standing up for our friends and family is the wrong thing to do? By the time Sam came back from getting a teacher, Suzie could have been bleeding all over the asphalt or vice versa. What kind of person tells a 10 year old girl that they deserved to be hurt because they didn't want somebody hurting their brother? Apparently the woman in charge of the well being of almost 1000 kids. She obviously also thinks that every child in the school should be viewed through the same lens and that every situation should have exactly the same outcome regardless of circumstances. Sam punched a kid. Fine, punish him accordingly. I even warned him to be prepared for something to come down today. BUT. How is it fair to lump him together with the instigator of this whole mess? Sam's punishment was the same as if he jumped the kid in an alley and beat him half to death. It makes me feel good that the children in whom we are placing our hopes for the future are being taught to refuse any sort of responsibility for their fellow beings. The idea flat out gives me the warm fuzzies. How am I supposed to expect my children to take care of each other and try to always do the right thing *no matter how hard it is* when they go to school and are taught that it's fine to always leave it to someone else. Not only fine but required. You will be rewarded not for doing right but by making sure you tell the right story to the right person. The bully told the principal he was "defending" himself. I'm pretty sure if you looked that phrase up in the dictionary there wouldn't be anything in the definition about running up to a kid and holding him in a headlock so you could punch his face. Sam told me on the way home that he told his teacher that this bully has been calling his friend fatty (amongst other names) and was told by his useless teacher to mind his own business because it was "between Bryant and Jr." Nice. Hearing that just made me even more glad I told the Principal that what happened today was bullshit and that if there's a next time I'm advising Sam to beat the shit out of that kid. I might also have implied that she was full of it herself when she tried to tell me they made sure there wasn't any bullying going on. There might have been mention of how worthless her school was too but I'm not sure. It's good that I'm already known as the bitchy Mom around there because it's too late to go back now. 

And now I think I'm going to need nothing less than a Coke I.V. to get my equilibrium back. Not to mention that I should get some sort of major award for keeping the bad words I used on that odious woman to nothing worse than shit and it's various forms. If you know my mouth then you know that I might even deserve a medal for Stellar Self-Control. Would it be pushing the maturity envelope too far if I call her back and tell her she's dumb, ugly, has bad hair and smells like old sweat socks? It's obvious to anyone with a brain that she's a total meanie-pants.   

The Rabbit Done Run.

It wouldn't be Easter without the Gazillionth Annual Richards Rabbit Run. No rabbits really, but a bunch of family from Momma Jean's side of the blanket roasting hot dogs and sending the little ones to look for barely hidden candy.

Who doesn't love a perfectly roasted weenie?
If we had been keeping with true Grandma Gertrude tradition then these should have been turkey or chicken dogs and the fire would have been big enough to threaten the neighbor's house.

Joe and Sam demonstrating what happens when you consume
too many nitrates in too short a time span. Sad.  

Picture translation:
Janene, "I hope he doesn't realize I've been telling everybody that The Lord
 of the Rings is for losers"
Mike, "Time to open up a can of whoop-ass."

Apparently, Shania thinks it's funny when Turner punches
 Anna in the teeth. I bet that's the last time Anna tells Turner it's not nice to
throw her unwanted food at Grandma. 

Levi was proud of all his loot until Rachel told him that
 they weren't taking home the brown lumps he found in the middle
 of the neighbor's lawn.


The Rabbit Run is also well known as your best chance all year to get pictures of your relatives stuffing their faces. I submit the following as evidence.

This is the bonus picture of the day because not only is Mike eating but
 Brad is picking his teeth. A twofer if you will.

 The ratio of little monsters to big monsters has changed so much we decided to give a scavenger hunt a try. Each of the three teams brought back all of their items so it came down to the fact that the girls got back first. Hopefully it wasn't too torturous for all of the too cool for school teenagers that got roped into it. Poor babies.

I know your first instincts are to blame Thomas and Noah for the fact that this
 Anna looks nervous. She had just heard about the incident with the other
 Anna and was still a little worried I would put her with Turner.

Unfortunately for this team Sarah's threat of Sumo based violence
didn't help them win.

V is for Victory!