Celtophobic Anyone?

After much hard work on my part, endless hours spent waiting on the mail to arrive in Colorado and then having to wait for my Bubba to get home from work, and here is the end result.

At last. I am feeling quite triumphant. And maybe just a little smug. Tell me that is not a cool shirt. Go ahead. That is funny stuff right there.

I’d Only Ever Seen Him On The Radio…

Don’t even ask about the title. It’s a rather embarrassing remark I made whilst watching the Braves game with my Diddy. It’s a long story that will no longer be even remotely funny by the time I get through explaining it to you all.

Unless you are my Bubba. Then it would probably still be funny.

Let’s just say it will go down in our family archives as,quite possibly, one of the dumbest things I have ever said. Not the dumbest. We already had a winner for that title. Years ago. But it is definitely up there. Hoo boy.

And on that note, I am going to bed. It’s been a very long day.

Um, yeah. I am back. Again.

Hey y’all. I know it has been way too long since I have posted anything new. I do apologize. I shall begin to try and explain exactly what has been going on. You might want to make yourself comfortable. Grab a cuppa joe. It might be a while.

We can begin with my Diddy. He underwent a double bypass two weeks ago. It went extraordinarily well. He is recovering at home now. He looks wonderful and feels better than he has in what seems like forever. He tires easily and doesn’t quite have his appetite back yet. But he’s here. And that is what matters most.

My brother flew out for the operation. I volunteered to pick him up at the airport thinking that he would be arriving at a decent time. No big. And then he informed me that his flight was coming in at 11:38. PM, people. Still, I was okay with that. I am up later than that anyway. So I head out to pick him up. My parent’s are calling me to see if I am there yet, my uncle calls to tell me that everything will be okay, and then as I am talking to my brother’s girlfriend I find out his flight is delayed. By 45 minutes. Frick. We ended up leaving the airport right around 1 AM. I don’t think either one of us were asleep before 2:30-3:00. I then had to turn around and take my husband to work at 6:00. Then come back, take a shower and get dressed. Pack the boys up and drive them to their Momo and Pawpaw’s house. Then pick up my brother and go BACK to the airport to pick up my brother’s girlfriend who was flying in from Texas. Confused yet?! I was. And tired. And in dire need of some COFFEE! We all were. We hit up Starbucks and Panera for breakfast on our way to the hospital. We also picked up a little somethin’-somethin’ for my Mama, knowing good and well that she had not yet had any thing to eat.

We made it to the hospital fairly early. We all have books. We were told we would not be able to be in the same room with him until he was back in SICU. It sucked, but we understood. And then we met his nurse. Miss Ruby. What a jewel.I said that our last name was L. and she said that we weren’t who she was trying to find. The lady next to me started talking about how the lady she was looking for had these ” two cute little grandsons she had named Nub and Dub” and I turned to her and introduced myself as the Mama of said Nub and Dub. Apparently my mother had been waxing poetic about her grandbabies. Miss Ruby asked who we were and we gave her our names. And that was all it took. She immediately took us back to where Diddy was. We were able to talk to him for a few minutes before they began prepping him for the four hour surgery. It was a little scary seeing him like that. They had an IV hooked up yo his carotid artery, just in case. His doctor came in and introduced himself to J., J., and I. He was cool as a cucumber. I was very impressed. He explained what he would be doing and answered all our questions. Then the team came in to begin prepping him for surgery. We retired to the waiting room. And what would probably be the longest four hours of my life.

I don’t know what I would have done without my Bubba. He was a rock. Truly. He fed us, made sure Mama was okay, made jokes(yeah, we are those kinds of people- we choose to laugh rather than cry) and just pretty much rocked in the free world. Please don’t think his girlfriend wasn’t completely awesome too, she was. But she also had her own drama goin’ on at the same time. Really, what is the point of having drama if you can’t have a crapload of it going on at the same time?!

So, my Diddy is home. It should be all good. Except it’s not. He can’t work for another four to six weeks. My mother doesn’t work because she watches the boys so I can work. But now she is taking care of Diddy. So I have had to cut back on my hours. Which has hurt us financially. I decided to get another job. I am thinking about going back to work bartending on the weekends, but until I can find somewhere to hire me I had to come up with something else. So I am selling Avon. It was only ten bucks to sign up. I have a website, but I am pretty sure I am not allowed to mention it/pimp myself on my own blog. Which is lame. Whatev. If anyone is interested leave me a comment and I will give you my e-mail.

And now I am beginning the process of signing Nub up for Pre-K. Jesus. Pre-K. It pains me to think about it. He’ll be headed to college next week. I am joking, but damned if it doesn’t really feel like that some days. Time goes by so fast. Seems like it was only yesterday that we brought him home from the hospital. Okay, enough with all the moopy talk. I promise.

I am okay. Just tired and stretched way too thin. I am trying to just breathe and let go of some of the more unimportant things right now. Housework would be number one on that list! Kidding. Sort of. My house is semi-clean. Just not on par with my usual standards. I look at it this way- you don’t like it, then you can lump it. Or bite me.

I do feel better after unloading all of this on you guys. I need to get back to posting everyday, for my own sanity. Or what is left of it at any rate. Thanks y’all. You ROCK.

Mumbo Gumbo…

Yesterday was such an awesome day. Even though my boyfriend did NOT win the Daytona 500. He came in 9th, for those of you who care. I was just excited that Tony Stewart lost in the final lap. Mean, I know. But I despise him with the fire of a thousand suns. We made a ton of snacky-snacks and just pigged out all day.

It was rockin’.

I just got off the phone with my Bubba, he had left a message earlier telling me he had a funny story involving hard boiled eggs. Naturally, I was intrigued. Food stories are always excellent. He tells me that when he got home last night he wanted a little somethin’-somethin’. He settled on egg salad. Simple, quick. It wasn’t until he started it that he realized his propane was off. Landlord issues. Anyhoo. His eggs were also a few days past the sell by date. So he gets the idea to boil them IN.THE.MICROWAVE. FOR TWELVE MINUTES. By this time I am completely hysterical. He is all smug and congratulating himself on his genius when the microwave goes off. He proceeds to remove the eggs from the water and crack on on the yolk side to see if it’s done. He notices it’s a little dark and thinks maybe he didn’t cook the eggs long enough. So he starts to crack it in earnest and the egg explodes. Literally explodes. It was rotten. He has bits of rotten egg and shells everywhere. Including the ceiling. Tears are pouring down my face. I can absolutely picture every single thing he has just described to me. Hysterical.

I bet he won’t be eating egg salad anytime soon!

One more thing. I watched The Food Network last night. Big mistake. It always makes me hungry. It was a recipe contest for chicken. Yum. The winner was a whole roasted chicken with yucca fries. How good does that sound?

My next post will be about Baby Fevah. I got’s it bad.