Tag Archives: Birthday

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!

You might think you have the best mom in the world, but you don’t. My mom knows everything. I still don’t listen to her, but rest assured, I am ALWAYS proven wrong and she doesn’t even have to say anything or try to prove me wrong. Then I say, “When am I going to start listening to mom??!”

Before the Air Force Marathon 5K race we ran together

I’m sure I wrote about this in last year’s birthday post, but I made her this hat when I was like, 7, and if this doesn’t seal the deal I don’t know what does. You can’t really see the words, but they are there.

Best mom in the world.

A couple facts about mom:

Her stuff is always nice. Everything she owns, even socks. She always smells nice, too. She’s just … nice. Like pumpkin spice.

 

 

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Happy Birthday Mom!

That’s my mom. Look how pretty she is. That picture was taken last year, when she was a young girl of 50.

Look! There she is again at my wedding party:

I’ve never in my life seen someone else’s mom and thought, “Man, I wish she was my mom!” That means in real life, in books or TV. She always thinks of everything and she’s the best mom I’ve ever seen.

Here’s an anecdote about her that might seem trivial, but it sums up what it means to be a mom.

Last summer the K family decided to take a family vacation to Virginia to see some civil war battle grounds, Mount Vernon, and Monticello.

Here we are in front of George Washington’s house at Mount Vernon (yes, my sister and I are wearing fanny packs, matching Sea World San Diego shirts and matching Target sandals that we got at Goodwill for 50 cents. They were new.):

Back to the story. I was packing the cooler full of water bottles, lunch meats, and diet wild cherry pepsis when my mom walked over.

“Make sure you know where you’re packing the pepsi because you won’t be able to find them once everything’s packed up and we’re in the car.”

I huffed and rolled my eyes a little, then I generally disregarded the advice because I was busy.

One mile down  I-70 and I decide I’m thirsty. I try to turn around, but there are so many pillows and bags in the back seat that I can’t get much leverage on the cooler. Once I finally get it open my arm is bent in such a way that I can’t go digging around, and there’s so much stuff behind the seats that I can’t even see in the cooler.

I couldn’t find my pepsi. I didn’t pack them in a place I could easily reach them and I couldn’t find them because the cooler was too big and too full. Mom was right again. She’s always right! Even if it’s about a can of pepsi!

If I had one of those “I heart NY” shirts with “I heart mom” on it instead, I’d wear it!

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Where My Heart Has Been This Week

I haven’t been posting much lately. Bad squishy. Bad squishy!

In more words or less, I accidentally got addicted to Mario Kart Wii.

Seriously. I didn’t see it coming, either. I thought I hated this game. I used to describe myself as a “Mario Kart 64 enthusiast,” and I was opposed to the Wii version because I tried it once and hated it. 

Then a guy at work challenged me to a race about two weeks ago so I rented it on Lovefilm (Netflix) and the rest is history. We’ve already played about 30 games online against each other and we keep going back and forth between him being a game or two up and me being a game or two up.

After about the 20th race I went out and bought the game, and ever since that day last week I haven’t been able to think about anything else.

I used to think about my blog every day. My blog was my best friend. I got Freshly Pressed and I couldn’t have been happier in my blog relationship. The best part was that I made some really cool new blog friends.

And then MK Wii happened. Starting Monday, dear blog, I’ll embrace you once again.

In other news, I’m going to Paris in a couple months. I have been there about 5 times before, but I was a stupid teenager so it’s probably going to turn out like the Cambridge trip where I realize I never noticed anything because I was too busy shopping.

Some more news: here’s a funny story about a Kentucky man who was forced to chop off and then eat his own beard:

http://www.thestar.com/news/world/article/889670–man-forced-to-eat-his-own-beard

Do you want to talk about Mario Kart again? I do. I play as King Boo because his noises and facial expressions give me the giggles:

Well, goodbye for now.  Wait – one more thing. It’s my birthday this weekend so if you want to buy me things on my Amazon.co.uk wish list, feel free. Shop to your heart’s desire. Live long and prosper.

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Happy Birthday Papa Bear!

Today is my dad’s birthday so I’m going to post a commemorative, collector’s edition blog about him.

In my former imaginary world we were all bears and lived in a treehouse like the Berenstain Bears. Sometimes I still like to pretend this is our family because how much fun would it be to live in a tree and have a family theme song?

Sister and Brother are more like a representation of my sister and me split in half. We both have girly sides finely complimented by a truly disgusting boyish side. My mom is pretty much like Mama Bear because she’s very nice and she’s always right. Really, she is.

But we are talking about my dad here. Being Papa Bear wasn’t his choice because that happened in my mind and I really don’t think he’s up for a family theme song, so if we are talking about making my dad a cartoon he would more closely resemble Hank Hill. He has a lot of the same interests (grilling, mowing, cars) and even kind of looks like Hank:

In the still fictional but not cartoon world, my dad is also The Dude from The Big Lebowski. After he retired from the military, where he had to have a regulation haircut at all times, he decided to not cut his hair for a year or so. With the long, shaggy hair and beard, and the fact that when he’s at home he wears a robe and slippers, this seriously happened and it was hilarious:

My dad had never seen this movie, so when my friends started calling him The Dude he finally watched it. Immediately after he made a White Russian.

I always like it when people are enthusiastic about their interests, and I think you’ll find that my dad is enthusiastic about the Civil War. Here is a screen shot of his recent Facebook profile pictures:

He knows everything about the Civil War. On our family vacation I learned more about the war than I ever learned in school. Here he is at his happiest, standing on Civil War battlegrounds and giving us a minute-by-minute account of the war’s crucial battles:

And this is just a nice picture of my mom and dad at my cousin’s wedding last summer:

This blog is also an apology for being stupid in math(s). It takes 7 days for a card to travel from the UK to the USA, and on the 9th I thought, “Oh, this will get there on time, the 13th is still a week away. Wait a second…”

But anyway, now that I’m a fully grown person I don’t call him old anymore, although maybe he is. As I always say, I report, you decide.

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