Tag Archives: family

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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Parents on Facebook: Friend or Don’t Friend?

A blogger I follow wrote about how she only recently added her parents on Facebook, despite living 4,000 miles away from them. I couldn’t believe it! But then I started thinking about it, and I wouldn’t want most people’s parents as my friends on Facebook or real life if they were my parents.

I guess I got lucky. My parents are cool, and many of my friends are also friends with them.

See, look how cool they are in action, making me dinner, placing it on the table in front of me, etc.

Sometimes I think maybe they’re not cool. Maybe it’s just that I’m so boring and dorky I have nothing questionable floating about in the Facebook sphere to cause concern, and that’s why I can’t see any problem being friends with them. Even if I did engage in nefarious activities, would I be broadcasting them on Facebook anyway? No.

I don’t like how everything has to be “cool.”  Why can’t we just live life, instead of having to say snotty stuff like, “Oh, I can’t be on Facebook now that my grandparents are on it.” I mean, if you don’t want to be on Facebook, fine. But it annoys me when people act like they’re too cool for school. Or grandmas.

Again, maybe this is because I was blessed with a cool grandma, but so what? Grandma watches South Park, says bad words, and plays evil tricks on me like when we went fishing and she tossed a worm in my ear and slapped a big wet fish on my bare back. She’s not on Facebook, but if she did join she’d be way cooler than the tool sheds who’d leave because of her.

Here’s the chart I saw on this gal’s blog. Still kinda funny!

I guess my point is, if your parents suck at life and you’d rather not be reminded of them, fine. Don’t add them. But if you’re not adding them out of some commitment to being cool, you’re not cool. Add them.

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A portrait of my loving husband

You all know I’ve posted a really bad picture or two of myself before. No need for me to link back to them.*

I have something new for you today.

This is my husband. I found him in the woods near Athens, Ohio on my recent trip back to the US.

I can’t stop laughing. He said I could post this. I promise. I think he just likes the fame.

*I actually tried to go back and find that really bad picture of myself, but I couldn’t find it. So I’m guilt free now.

 

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Big city lights

Maria came to visit this weekend and she’s never been into central London before so she wanted to see the big city lights.

Adrian and Maria catching the tube.

First we went to TGI Fridays in the city so we could get unlimited refills and a giant strawberry sundae. Then we walked through Embankment, across the bridge and along the South Bank to the London Eye.

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Random adorable cat picture

Look at my boy!

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Photos from home. I swear to God they are.

My mom has a new phone so she’s been able to e-mail me quick pictures of what’s happening back home. It looks like certain kitties have been busy!

Did you notice my dad’s pants in that picture? He’s going for the Donnie Baker Zubaz look. I saw Donnie Baker live once, and he was wearing the same Pork Star shirt my dad has. In Columbus, Ohio there is a BBQ restaurant called Hoggy’s, and if you beat the Hoggy’s challenge you get a free shirt that says PORK STAR on the back. You have to eat a ridiculous amount, like a rack of ribs, half a chicken, pulled pork sandwiches, etc.

If you don’t know who Donnie Baker is, then you won’t get this blog post title either.

Here’s a song that’s kind of a compilation of some of the stuff he talks about when he calls into the Bob & Tom radio show. It’s this guy who pretends to be a total redneck hick, and he’s always cracking rude jokes, talking about trying to sell his boat, making fun of his idiot manager Randy,  or telling stories about all the women he porks. His band is called Donnie Baker and the Pork Pistols.

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I feel bad for my mom

Most daughters have annoying mothers who constantly ask them when they are going to start popping out little bambinos. I’ve had many people ask me when I’m going to start having kids, but my parents have never said a word.

I asked my mom if she wanted grandchildren and why she never asked us, and she said she does, but she didn’t want to be annoying because she knows how it feels to have people hassle you.

My sister isn’t any closer to having children. I worry that one day my mom is going to have to wear this shirt:

You can purchase the shirt here.

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The Skype family photo album

As I mentioned in my last post, I Skype with my family a lot and have spent all of my holidays the past couple years staring into a webcam. I always take a lot of snapshots while we’re talking, but it wasn’t until this weekend that I looked through the folder saved on my hard drive. I’m not sure why, I just never looked at them.

I’m glad I took all of them, but it made me sad!  I found pictures of poor Boo, who recently joined Star Clan. (Star Clan is a term from the Warriors series of books about different clans of cats who live in the forest and fight each other. When the cats die they join Star Clan.)

This is one of my favorite pictures I found, from a random Sunday chat:


What family photo album is complete without an ugly snapshot of me?

I have no idea why that one was so huge, and little baby Harris here is so tiny. Oh well.

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Easter Sunday abroad

Easter Sunday went down in history like every other holiday has for the past three years of living in England – Skype with the family while I eat a non-traditional meal by myself. At thanksgiving it was canned spinach and something else, and this weekend it was twice-baked southwestern sweet potatoes. No chocolate bunnies or peeps. 😦

And here are snapshots of my grandma with her colored eggs and chocolate angel food peepcake she makes every year.

Oh, were you thinking I was going to talk about all the fun ways in which English people celebrate Easter? Sorry, I think it’s the same. Except coloring Easter eggs is a lot harder because all of the eggs are brown. We managed last year, but they ended up getting a little immature and maybe obscene. (But then again, we were coloring eggs so I think it’s OK to be immature.)

Also, us Brits (real ones and immigrants like me)  got Friday AND Monday off work for the Easter holiday, so I guess that’s cool.

There’s also another four-day weekend next weekend. Friday is for The Royal Wedding, and Monday is one of the random “bank” holidays England sometimes has.  You’re jealous, aren’t you? You’re jealous of my Easter eggs, and you’re jealous of all my holidays. 23 days plus all national holidays! It makes up a tiny bit for spending all my holidays on Skype.

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I found a reason to have children.

When I was growing up I never carried around baby dolls or dreamed of having a family with lots of little tots.

Even into adulthood I never dreamed of having tots until I saw Requiem for a Dream and realized I’m going to be that woman.

Being that I’m a woman, I’ll likely live longer than Adrian. Because we have no children, and at that point my parents will also likely be dead, I’m going to be sitting alone in my apartment watching television and stroking one of my several cats.

I’m going to become so engrossed in television because I won’t have anything else to live for. For whatever reason I’ll be prescribed pills by a careless doctor, and before you know it I’ll be reliving Requiem for a Dream, running around town yelling out, “I’m going to be on television!”

You could argue that she had a child and he didn’t take care of her so my plan is worthless, but that wouldn’t happen to me. I’d make sure I had a few and I wouldn’t be putting up with any of the crap that would lead to my kids entering the drug life. All of my children will be straight edges, because I’ll teach them the high road is the way to roll. You don’t want to be on the regular road because it’s crowded and full of traffic jams.

Has anyone else watched this movie and immediately thought, “This is my future”?

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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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Does Love Make You Blind?

My mom loves me:

She knows how important dental hygiene is to me, so she sent a care package to London full of my favorite floss without me even having to ask.

Now that it’s been readily established that my mom loves me, we can move on. We’ll come back to this point later.

Every time I look at a picture of myself from my younger days I think: monster.

When my mom looks at a picture of my younger days she says: YOU WERE SO CUTE!!

I looked like a lot of things in my childhood, and none of them were cute. From the age of 1 until about 7 I looked like Mowgli (who is a boy!) from Jungle Book. No clothes other than underwear (this was my choice, I hated clothes) and short, dark hair. It was Florida. It was hot.

This is the closest picture I have at the moment that illustrates my mowgliness. I was “reading” on the “toilet.” And yes, those quotation marks are warranted because neither is what it seems.

From age 7-10 my perm made me look like a poodle at a distance, but a dinosaur at close range due to my Stonehenge teeth.

Then I turned into Joe Dirt:

So, my question is,  did my mom not see this? My only answer is that she loves me so much she didn’t realize I looked like a dog/Joe Dirt/Mowgli/ancient English ruins. Or, maybe I was cute. I did look pretty dashing on that toilet!

Being blinded by love is acceptable when you are a mother and it’s your child in question. Being blinded by love by a guy you’ve dated for a few months (or even years, in my opinion) is often not acceptable, and it’s always annoying.

Girls, if he breaks up with you, he doesn’t like you! I don’t understand the 90% of women I know who will cry and beg their boyfriend not to leave them. Beg!! Do people have no shame?

If a guy broke up with me, I’d probably never look at him again because I’d be too embarrassed. Maybe this is because I naturally assume no one wants to talk to me, so if a guy confirmed this I’d accept it and walk away no matter how I actually felt.

These dramatic girls used to make me think love was blind so they couldn’t see the facts, but then I realized it’s just gross immaturity in wanting what you can’t have and being unable to accept rejection. Age 12-14, maybe. But any older and it’s like, honestly, how can you beg and badger a guy to date you?

Doesn’t a girl realize that if she does break a guy down, he’s not there because he really likes her, he’s only there because she wouldn’t leave him alone and so he figured he might as well use her for a while until she becomes truly too annoying to handle? People blow my mind with this begging stuff. I say people because it isn’t just women, although I see it more often in women.

I’ve always felt that if you have to guess whether or not a guy likes you while you are saying you are in love with him, he doesn’t like you. At all. I’ve had so many women ask me for my opinion on what I think all the things he doesn’t do means. They never listen. It drives me insane.

If a guy actually likes you – you know it. There’s no question.

I just want to tell these women to get over themselves and the sooner they accept that almost no one cares about them and they aren’t important at all in the grand scheme of life they’ll be much happier and more fulfilled in their real relationships.

So, the answer. Does love make you blind? Probably to an extent, but with relationships more often than not it’s merely stupidity or self-importance.

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Burmese Cat Mop

I’m sorry.

I hope you watched at least 12 seconds in, to where the cat’s mom started talking.

At the risk of losing readers to my blog, I had to post this because:

a) I’ve done this.

b) More than once.

c) I’m a crazy cat lady in training? (Although, the New York Times makes a good case for cat ladies to be proud rather than ashamed.)

d) Because of point c, this filled me with laughter and then a deep longing for a baby cat of my own. It symbolizes all that I love about cats, especially mese cats. Endless entertainment and love.

e) I have a Siamese back home, and she looks and acts like this cat.

If you are thinking “Burmese, Siamese, they’re all the same, ” that’s cat racism! Shame on you.

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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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Is there anything wrong with a pet obsession?

People always make fun of people who love their pets to the extreme, but I have decided I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.  (Unless it turns into some disgusting violation of the animal.)

As far as license plates, checks, T-shirts go, I think this is OK. This animal bond is making the human and the cat feel loved and happy, and I can’t see what’s wrong with a little love.

If you just thought, “Yeah right. A cat is in no way benefitting from a personal check or car license plate,” you are wrong. These are simply expressions of the human’s love for his/her cat, and the cat is very much benefitting from all this extra love.

Look at it this way: the cat gear is love overflow, and we all know the world needs more love!

People make fun of Karen, my sister, for loving Boo more than she loves most people. Here is Karen with Boo at my wedding party. Boo was wearing her pink bridesmaid dress because the theme was pink. Don’t they look happy together?

Another thing people get mad about is when  people dress up their animals. I think this is hilarious, and it doesn’t harm them or anyone else. Laughing makes people happy. If the animals don’t like it they won’t let you do it, like Harris. He refuses to wear anything but a tie. Anything else and he says: NO. 

How can you look at this picture and not think “AWWWWW!!!”? He’s so intellectual.

Clearly we love putting our cats in clothes, so naturally Karen entered Boo, her sweet Lady Boo, in the PetSmart Halloween competition. If you notice I drew arrows pointing to the fact that out of roughly 7,000 animals who have been entered into this competition, Lady Boo is ranked NUMBER FOUR in the amount of comments!

Below is a screenshot of where you should be visiting every day.  Karen could win up to $1,000 cash if Boo wins – but that’s not the best part. If Boo wins she will appear in a PetSmart commercial!

I turned into a 14-year-old girl and accidentally drew a heart around Zac Efron’s sexy face … and then a heart around Back to the Future. Facebook ads really understand me. They just … get me.

First, click here. Go to the upper right and click on “View and Vote.” You’ll have to allow the application, but it’s OK. I’m against applications but this one is fine.

Then click back on your browser and you will go back to Lady Boo.  Now you will be allowed to click the paw underneath her picture to vote for her. You can also now leave comments, which you should so she’ll win.

Pet obsessions: everyone wins.

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