some items for your consideration: the long-overdue edition

I realize it has been approximately ninety-eleven daysmonthsyearswhatever since I've been posting.  Sorry about that.  February was awful, and March was bad, and I had nothing clever to say.  It was just dark and icky, and I had nothing to say.  So I didn't waste your time.

However, here's a little catching up.

1. There have been MANY trips to various doctors in the past 8 weeks.  So far, I have fibromyalgia (which I already knew) and at least 15 ulcers because I'm a complete overachiever, and there are approximately four children in my house with varying degrees of constipation.  None of these facts are particularly awesome.  
2. Also not particularly awesome: my migraine meds are a no-no now that I have ulcers, as is spicy food, tomatoes, anything with fat in it, and coffee.  
3. Elliott Samuel, my most darling of darling babies, turned 2 this week.  We celebrated by going to a total of 4 doctor appointments, blowing our noses, doing nebulizer treatments, taking tylenol and going to bed early.  
4. Elliott Samuel, my most unsleeping of darling babes, who just turned 2 this week, also just began the beautiful practice of SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT.  Mostly.  Which means I've had to get up one time on two non-consecutive nights in the past 8 days.  
5. Last week was really sucky, but I got a little something in the mail from her, and a totally awesome dessert from her, and sat for an afternoon with her, and this guy cleaned my car, and my mother-in-law cared for the short people for about 20 hours because she's nice.  And, as if that is not enough, there were more lovely things that happened, like phone calls from people who noticed I've not been myself, and my MOPS mamas showing up on my doorstep with dinner.  I feel like I am forgetting something, but believe me, it's not from lack of gratitude, it's from the migraine I've not been able to shake for a day and a half.  I'm blessed.
6. Henry loves chickens.  I may have mentioned this before.  IN LOVE.  I ordered our meat birds and a few more layers because our laying hens are not actually LAYING EGGS and I think they should visit the pot but it doesn't actually seem to matter what I think because NOBODY WILL KILL THEM.  So I will just purchase more and more hens until someone is forced to take drastic measures.  I digress.  Henry caught me perusing the online catalog of chickenry and squee-ed and shouted LOOK AT THE NAKED NECKS!!!! LOOK AT THE NAKED NECKS!!!  And so I did and he swooned and now we own a naked neck hen.  The end.
7. More Henry.  Kid crawled up in my lap yesterday, wrapped his arms around my neck and said, Mama, I love you more than Elliott does.  I think you should know this.  
8. Homeschooling.  We are doing that thing, still.  The latest in a long line of objections and attempts to not do school is this:  But I can't find a pencil.  And yes, with extra whine and a side of whiney sauce.  It's really difficult to find a pencil in my house, I assure you.  Extraspecially challenging considering there is an enormous box with the word PENCILS written on it in extra-wide Sharpie, and that said box is filled to the brim with at least 200 brand new pencils.  
9. Just now noticing that I haven't mentioned the Wee Man yet... He has mastered drama, congrats to him.  Also, he would like me to do a criteria-unspecified Lego contest on my blog, and he would like to play old-school Super Mario Brothers on the Wii all day long.  Finally, he can beat the Sudoku game on my phone in under 5 minutes.  We're working on that.  Except the Sudoku.  I can't have my 5 year old beating me at Sudoku.
10. And The Mister.  The Mister ________________(verb) a ______________ (adjective) ___________________(noun) sometime before ____________________ (event) and we are not __________________________ (verb) very __________________________(adverb).
11. The Mister also introduced the phrase "Polish bubblebath" into the short people's vernacular this week.

That's the news.  And please, for the love of teh interwebs.  Tell me what's up with you.  I'm not up on your stories and goings-on, and I want to make sure you're all still here.

this is not today.

dear mother nature,
you made my chickens cry.
do better.
xo, pamela

it's not just grown-ups.

Miss O started a blog.  She's not a big fan of writing with a pencil, but she always comes up with the nuttiest, funniest, crazy stuff that she really needed to start recording it for posterity.  Hence the blog.

We worked together to get the design right, and the font, and to come up with a title.  Finally she was ready to post, and we celebrated the ceremonial first click of the 'publish' button.

Five minutes later, she refreshed the page.

WHAT?!?!?! AWWWW, MAN!!!! I HAVE *NO* COMMENTS!!!!

She's just like every other blogger I know.  Makes a mama's heart go pitter-pat.

text message, received

Henry would like you to bring home strawberry ice cream. Quote: YOU KNOW HOW I GET AROUND THE ICE CREAM.

That kid is pure awesome.

i got an afternoon off and then my car died. it was awesome.

Right.  So I got time off for good behaviour, or to ensure future good behaviour, or because I'm going bat-shit crazy being in my house for the last month with those charming people who sprang from my loins.

That was a terrible sentence.  You have my most sincere apologies.

I got some coffee, and went to the yarn shop, and visited an amazing art gallery that consigns all kinds of amazing handmade things... and the art gallery is interested in some of my sewing and knitting, which is very cool and very odd all at the same time.

On the way home, I noticed that the gas pedal didn't seem to be playing nice with the engine, which made me remember that the gas gauge had been fluctuating like crazy the entire day, and oh yes, by the way, the service engine idiot light was blaring.  So naturally the minicoopervan conked out whilst driving uphill where there was no actual place to pull off.

But fortunately, God really wanted me to enjoy my day, so He pushed the car about a quarter mile up the hill after it stalled and then further on down the road to a place where I could pull far away from the road and not die.  True story.

We had the stupid vehicle towed to the local repair shop, who told me that my fuel pump had died and it would be in the neighborhood of $600 to get it fixed... half for parts and half for three hours of labour.  So I called my girl Heather's husband, Nate the Hot Mechanic, and asked him what he thought about that, because he has been taking care of the vehicle for a while.

Nate said that there was no way it takes three hours to change a fuel pump in my van, and also that it is his experience as a Chevrolet mechanic that fuel pumps in Venture vans just do not ever get replaced.  He told me about this little thing that is a part of the fuel system that sometimes does need to be replaced, and suggested I ask the garage if they had checked that.

Now, I had already told the garage people that the gas gauge had been bonkers all day, and that I suspected the thing was out of gas.  OH NO!!!! they protested vigorously, and told me there was no way on earth my car was out of gas and that the little thingy was not a problem and that it was most assuredly the fuel pump and also pay.up.sucka.

Nate the Hot Mechanic had given me his price for fixing the fuel pump, if in fact it was the fuel pump, and his price was over $200 better than the garage.  So I told the garage they could suck it that we'd come pick up the van and tow it to Nate's garage.  They offered to come down on the price of the labour, but I was not having any of that tomfoolery.

Nate pulled the little thingy from out of the fuel system, and sure enough, the little thingy had MAJOR bad stuff happening to it.  There are technical terms for the situation, but major bad stuff will have to do for now.  And also?  Not a drop of gas in the tank.

So for CONSIDERABLY LESS than the thieving or incompetent, or incompetently thieving people at the Automotive Center on Market Street in Attica suggested, Nate the Hot Mechanic fixed my car.  And he SHOWED THEM.  

The Mister says I shouldn't call them and tell them off, but I still kind of want to.

Also, they were snippy and rude, and it was a good thing I had put my big girl pants on.

I bought Nate a bag of peanut butter cups because he's totally a peanut butter cup junkie, and because he's awesome.  And my girl Heather knows that he is Nate the Hot Mechanic, and she knows that we all know he's Nate the Hot Mechanic, and she is okay with it.  In fact, she's more than okay with it.  She likes it a lot.  And so does Nate.

Me?  I just like that I have good friends who can keep me away from people who are incompetent and out to screw us.  Anybody else have that kind of awesomesauce in their lives?  

overheard.

Henry (sitting on the ottoman): I am the hen.
Olivia: Well lay some eggs then.  I'm hungry.
Henry (working hard):  There you go.  But wait!  I want baby chicks to hatch out of those eggs.  Don't eat them.
Olivia:  Pfft.  There's no way baby chicks are coming out of those eggs.  In order for a baby chick to hatch, a rooster has to pee on the eggs.
Henry:  Where are we going to find a rooster?  We're not allowed to have them at our house.

it's been quiet here.

I just haven't had anything to say.  People have been sick, I've had migraines, I've been well medicated, blah, blah, blah.  I still don't have anything to say, other than thanks to the people who have been checking in to make sure I'm still alive.  I really appreciate it.