Oh, The Irony

Remember my last post?  The one about our car troubles?  The one that snidely predicted the car wouldn't start last Friday?

Well . . .

. . . the car wouldn't start last Friday. 

Which means I couldn't make it to my ass-kicking Bootcamp class, because there was no way I was about to bike the 1.31 miles between my house and the gym.  (What, you expect me to exercise before exercising?  That's ironic!)

I did, however, decide to bike the 2.28 miles to our playdate a few hours later.  With a 30-pound kid in tow.  Uphill most of the way.  But I was getting exercise!  And, by not driving Bee's truck, I was being environmentally-friendly!

I arrived sweaty and shaking at the park . . . just in time for it to start storming.  My friend and I dragged our kids into a (not-so-roomy) fake log-tunnel, and the four of us hunkered down until the worst of the storm let up.  Then we ran the .2 miles to her house . . . where I called Bee and begged him to come pick us up in the truck.  So much for exercise and environmentally-friendliness.

(Actually, as a side note, I couldn't reach Bee when I called him, because -- wonderful husband that he is -- he was already in the truck trying to find my friend's house, having only a vague idea of where it is.  Having not been able to reach Bee on the phone, imagine my extreme pleasure five minutes later at finding him ringing my friend's doorbell in the midst of a raging storm.  My knight in shining, Toyota-red armor!)

Our White Trash Neighbor is a mechanic, so he agreed to spend his Friday evening and part of Saturday looking at our car, eventually replacing a corroded battery terminal cable and accepting nothing but extreme thanks and a case of beer in return. 

Crap.  Now I guess I can't feel superior to those neighbors anymore, either.

In other news:

I just want to re-direct your attention to the above picture of the cookies.  Those are the Chocolate Chip-Cherry Almond Cookies I made for the Sugarbee Cookie Company this week.  And I'm so frickin' proud of them, because I just happened to have all the ingredients necessary for their creation!  Who happens to have leftover chocolate chip cookie dough in their freezer?  How often does one have half a cup of almond paste stored away??  What are the odds there would still be 1/4 cup of dried cherries in my freezer that I'd dehydrated (by myself!) from our cherry tree last summer???  And, more to the point, how is it that, not having cherry preserves on hand, I would instead have enough frozen cherries (again, from last summer's cherry tree) and pectin to make my very own cherry preserves????

I Am Soooo Betty Crocker.

Alright; enough about my awesomeness.

Mr. C is now going to daycare 2 mornings a week.  This gives me time to help Bee in the shop; or -- more to the point -- to get into arguments with Bee in the shop.  We're actually working pretty well together: I have learned to accept that Bee is the professional, and I should just happily follow his instructions, even if they don't make total sense and often contradict what he's told me before; Bee, for his part, has learned to speak more gently when he's telling me -- yet again -- how I've f*cked up something.  It's awesome!

Mr. C seems to love the daycare he goes to while we're working.  The lady has a little schedule they follow every day, and Mr. C always comes home with a list of what he did and what he ate, as well as a new craft every day.  Here are the two crafts from last week:

This is the kind of stuff I've been waiting for years to get.  I've so looked forward to the artwork Mr. C would be bringing home from school.  I still remember crowing with delight over the first masterpiece dé Mr. C, made at the gym's daycare and consisting of a few swipes of finger paint on a tattered piece of construction paper.  That butt-ugly picture is still hanging on our fridge a year and a half later.

Now, however, that Mr. C is bringing home gems twice a week . . . well . . . the glory has faded.  I mean, come on: what am I supposed to do with a little foam train that I know was not really put together so nicely by my three-year-old?  Where should I display another ugly-ass figurine that my child cares nothing about?  Oh, and a note to Mr. C: I might be more inclined to keep some of your paintings if you'd please, please, for the LOVE OF GOD start using some color other than black.  (Mommy loves you!)

Mimmis and Grambys of the world, beware: these adorable little treasures are heading your way, next!!!

And, finally: guess what I'm doing this weekend?

My very first yard sale!  I have no idea what I'm doing!

I am such a Stepford Wife.  I actually went down our street and personally invited (via a typed note left hurriedly in their mailboxes) each of my neighbors to participate.  Keep in mind what a big, scary deal this is for me, since this requires me to actually interact with people.  I mean, I'm having to get to know my neighbors, here!

There are about 30 houses on our street, and I was pleasantly surprised that a whole 5 people responded with interest about the sale.  So, I'm putting up signs and listing the sale in whatever free classified spots I can find, and we'll see what sort of response we get.  It could be totally dead all day.

But I'm hoping for absolute pandemonium, with people blocking every driveway on the street and all the non-participating neighbors getting testy.  Serves them right for not being sociable. 

And for not having any ugly-ass black-painted rooster figurines from China to sell for 10 cents.

(Just kidding!  Because that little jewel is going in the 'free' bin!)