Blog, I have neglected thee...

I'm so sorry, o loyal readers of my blog, for not taking the time to post all the great stuff I've stumbled upon this summer. Actually, a lot of what I haven't posted really has to do with my laziness in hooking my phone up to my computer and transferring pictures. That project is now done, however, so I can share this bounty with you. Let's recap, shall we?

This is actually from way back in January when we had the "THE GREAT SNOWFALL OF 2009" (we might have had all of three inches). I had never seen a double-decker school closing runner before. They are serious here about their snow.



This we saw in a parking lot not too long ago. Yeah, it's a little antiquated, but it's still funny.



A while back, we met for lunch at a restaurant downtown called "Saffron." It is a cute little Greek bistro (is there such a thing?) and they have several items on their menu that are vegan-friendly. But the next time I need to have something professionally printed, remind me not to hire the folks who did their menu: It's a little blurry, but notice "Greek Pasta Slald."

Patrons can also enjoy the Kudzu Corner, which comes in a "Spinach warp."



Another restaurant we discovered was the "Mellow Mushroom," which is a locally owned chain of pizza places (plus tons of other great items) that celebrates the 60's. Not the raw, gritty aspect so much as the fun, wacky, psychedelic aspect. I caught this sign in my search for the potty.



The "Grease" DVD came in a little leather jacket. What more is there to say? And the back has the "T-Bird" sign printed on it. I bought it right away.



The mall was really cold that day.



You know that children's book "Walter, the Farting Dog?" Well, there he is, the live-action figure.

He farts when you squeeze his belly.



And finally, I walked into church get some organ practicing done a couple of days ago, and I took a little time to check the information kiosk to see what new things might be going on in the life of the church.
Thank the Lord! What would the Lutheran Church be without a small contingent of concealed weapon permit holders standing by?

Summertime Fun

Yesterday was my birthday, and since I still had to watch my summer girl, I decided that we would just take it easy and do something that I wanted to do. So we went shopping.

To her credit, my summer girl is a good little shopper. She enjoyed walking through the boutiques and looking at the pretty jewelry and purses. Sometimes there would be a statue of a dog or a little boy that she'd comment on. She was very good about being careful in "fragile stores," asking for my help if she wanted to see something. She loved the pet store (duh), and enjoyed the chocolate chip cookie I let her have while I ate my soup. Overall, she was very content going to all of my stores, as long as I allowed her a little time to explore as well.

As we walked from store to store she pretty much carried the conversation. She loves to talk with me, which is wonderful, but I admittedly glaze over from time to time. I have learned the cues, though, for when I am to respond.

"Oh, yeah?"
"Really?"
"You don't say..."
"That's so cool!"

So there we were at the outdoor mall, strolling between stores, and she says to me very casually,

"There's the American Idol Car."

"Oh, yeah?" I respond. "That's so cool!"

Hey, wait. The what?

I turned to see what car we had just passed. There, right at her eye level, was a shiny pearl white truck. And in the space where the front license plate should have been was a decorative plate with the make logo in the dead center:

Playing Hotel

Yesterday I was trying to get a few chores done while taking care of my summer little girl. As I unloaded the dishwasher, she asked me if I could come play "beach vacation" with her and her doll friends who had already started this adventure and been sprawled across the couch catching some rays since I had arrived. Instead of just refusing to play, I decided that I'd try to include her in what I was doing, hoping that this might cushion the blow later in the day when I knew I'd have to tell her to entertain herself. Instead I offered to be the "hotel manager" in charge of the hotel where her and her friends were staying. This worked out well, as there is a counter between the kitchen and the living room in her house with another couch in front of it that she loves to climb on.

She bounced up to the counter with her baby and announced that she would like a hotel room.

"Absolutely, ma'am," I chirped. "How many beds would you like?"

"Just one," she responded.

"Will you be needing a crib?" I asked, referencing her baby.

"No."

"No?" I asked again. "Not for your baby?"

"No," she affirmed.

I let it go.

"Alright," I continued, "would you like a king-sized bed or a queen-sized bed?"

She thought for a minute and arrived at a decision.

"I would just like a daughter-sized bed."

I stifled my laughter, swiped her "credit card," had her sign her "bill," and sent her back to the beach.

Playing Doctor

My husband and I spent last weekend remodeling our bedroom (and we STILL have some finishing touches to add...will it never end?!?!?). As a consequence, the rest of the house was neglected all weekend and looked like a disaster. So, I decided that this week the little girl that I'm watching and I would spend a day at my house so that I could catch up.

I don't have a lot at my house for the little kids, so I had her bring several of her favorite toys, which included 3 baby dolls and a doctor's kit. And, of course, there's always the allure of Sam the dog.

As I folded laundry, girl quickly went through all of her toys and decided that she and Sam were going to play hospital. Okay. Have at it. Of course, Sam just kind of laid there and let her pick on him, as she applied fake bandages and took his temperature. He rolled over a couple of times for a belly rub, but was left disappointed.

Then she asked me, "where are his knees?" holding that little reflex hammer in her hand.

"Well," I replied, "He's got four of them."

"Four knees?" she asked, surprised. "We only have two knees."

"That's right," I again replied, "but he's got four legs, so that means he has four knees. See them there on his legs?"

She examined him closely. "Oh...okay."

"But when we tap his knees we have to do it very gently, don't we? Because we don't want Sam to get mad and not play with us," I warned.

"Okay," she answered.

Then, she carefully approached Sam and looked him over. As instructed she very softly tapped his right hind leg. Then she walked to his other side and softly tapped his left hind leg.

She then, very gingerly, tapped his penis.

Sam...God bless him

I've just started watching a little girl during the daytime hours for the summer. She's one of my preschool students, so her mom knows that I've got lots going on in the area of music. So today, since her mom had the day off and had planned to watch a friend's children, she wondered if she could come to my house for a couple of hours so the children could have some music time.

Sure! We've got enough instruments and cool music stuff to keep them occupied for a little while. I was a little worried, though, because at this point most of my kid friendly music stuff is at school. And I had just put everything away for the summer, so I wasn't about to drag it all home. What would we do for two hours that would keep a 3 year old girl, 5 year old boy, and 9 year old girl entertained?

As it turned out, I didn't have to worry about any of it, because from the minute they walked in the door they were concerned with one and only one thing:

Mr. Sam.

We tried to get them interested in Josh's trombone, and I had filled a bunch of wine bottles with water (so that you blow across them and get different pitches), but all of that lasted about a total of 30 seconds. Finally, the mom and I gave up and just talked for a while and let them play in the other room with Sam. When we came to check on them, this is what we found:


They had made Sam a fort. Wasn't that just so nice of them?

There he is, defeated and humiliated, buried under our entire collection of couch and chair pillows. What a great sport!

He's now sleeping.

Where everybody knows your name

Josh and I took a day-trip to Charlston, which is a really neat town. It's older, well kept and has boatloads of charm. Of course, when older buildings and cities are well kept, it usually means that the elite folks live there, as they're the only ones with enough money to keep it looking fabulous.

We found evidence of this on our walk through the city. We browsed through expensive shops, we passed really nice hotels and restaurants, but this just sent me rolling on the sidewalk:


It's a day spa for the men!

Now, fellas, I don't begrudge any of you your well deserved "me-time," and if pedicures and massages is how you want to spend it, more power to you! It's the fact that they're calling it a barberspa. "Oh, it's a barberspa? Well, that's different than a regular day spa. Because it's barber. Let's go, guys!"

And then to call it "Gents." Sounds a little unsavory to me. A wellness club called Gents...Sorry, my brain goes to gentlemen's club.

I'm sure it's a fabulous way to spend an afternoon. But really guys, if you want a massage, just man up and go to the same place your wife goes. I promise we won't bite.

The great crayon debate

I remember in third grade there was a boy who called crayons "crowns." At first I didn't know what he was talking about, and then I wasn't sure why he was calling these colorful sticks of wax the same name at the shiny metal thing kings wore on their heads. I think I even asked my mom about it once, and ultimately we just decided he must have a speech impediment and we let it go.

So here I am, 22 years later, and I have encountered the great debate yet again in one of my three-year-old classes. We were playing a game called "The Bear Went Into the Woods," where we sing a song while each student takes turns going "into the woods" (into the classroom) and finding a treasure to bring back to the circle. It can be anything in the room. Most students like to get a musical instrument and bring it back. Sometimes they get creative and bring a stuffed animal or something. I always ask them to tell me what they brought back, because if they should so happen to pick up an instrument, it's extra practice if they can identify it.

So today (apparently for the first time in this class) someone brought back a crayon.

"So what'd you bring back?" I asked.

"A CROWN!" the student replied.

Alright. Seeing as how most of them can barely speak clearly anyway at 3, I figured she just needed a little help.

"A crayon?" I corrected her, pronouncing it "cran."

Oh, dear. This started a war. Another girl joined in. "No, a cray-ON!" She exclaimed, emphasizing the "on."

Then we got all kinds of participation.

"Crown!"

"Cray-own!"

"Cray-yan!"

"Tway-yan!"

I was being attacked. And when I tried to move on and keep playing the game, wouldn't you know the next girl picked a crayon? I finally had to tell our "cray-ON" advocate that I believed her because she would not let it go. After crayon wars, part two, the last person had had her turn and I changed the game.

Good thing it's the end of the year and I have no more plans to include crayons in the rest of my lessons.