In Response to Previous Post

So I thought about what I had written and I guess people would say the same thing - 'That's just the way Paige is.'

So I guess what I really want to say is 'Stop treating me like I'm 12 years old, Matilda!' Please take me seriously. I'm an adult. Just because I don't act like your 32 year old friends doesn't mean I'm not 32 (okay, so I'm not 32 yet, but almost so that's why I say 32). I remember when I was 23 years old and you saying (almost to yourself but I still heard you) 'You are so different from my friend who is 23.' Who the hell cares! People are different.

Maybe this is all due to the fact that we live so far apart and don't communicate very well. I just get surface stuff from you and vice versa. I don't tell you stuff because you don't seem to understand or at least try to understand where I'm coming from. Even if you did try to understand, you don't seem sincere.

Someone told me this is just the way you are - calling me 'pickle head' and talking to me like I'm so young. I accept this but I don't have to like it!

I love you Matilda!

Do I have a sign on my forehead?

Do I have a sign on my forehead that says, 'Speak to me like I am 12 years old.'? That's how I feel Matilda talks and treats me. "Hi Picklehead." It's hard to explain but I feel she thinks because I'm her little sister I will always be 'little'. But someone tells me that's just the way Matilda is.

Argh!

I'm irritated. I know - when am I not irritated? Well, my mother-in-law is staying with us this weekend. She and her brother got here Thursday evening. I swear, she and her husband do not know how to help around here. I don't expect all my guests to help us around the house but come on, parents can help. When my parents are here they are always helping out by doing dishes, laundry, and cooking. I don't expect them to do these things but they want to help out. What do Art & Royce do? Sit on the couch, eat what we serve, and leave messes. The messes aren't huge but enough to irritate me. All I ask is for a little help without me having to ask.

Last night I had to go pick up Allison from day care since Matt needed to work late. I got all the ingredients out and asked Royce if she would make the lasagna. She made it and didn't seem to mind. Unfortunately, the lasagna wasn't very good (to me). She only put cheese on the top and none in the layers. What's up with that? Cheese in the layers is what makes lasagna lasagna!

Anyway, fortunately Art isn't here as well; otherwise, we'd have an even bigger mess with the damn coffee. The man does not know how to pour coffee into his mug without spilling on the counter. Then when he's finished with the coffee maker, he just leaves the filter inside with the brewed remnants.

Enough complaining. I can't beat a dead horse to death.

Thanks for listening!

Leader of the Pack

So my dad is weird. Amaya can vouch for this. My dad has not been one to use the computer much except when he was working. Now that he is retired - the man cannot stop emailing his children! In fact, he has started a down right world war three between us siblings. Okay, so it hasn't gotten that far. He would love it if it did.

First of all, I have to admit that I thought I was special and that I was the only one he was emailing me 'love you' emails every morning. Ha! Boy was my little bubble popped when I got an email from my sister, Laurie, that had an email from Dad in it. I guess I'm not that special.

Anyway, so for some reason, my other sister, Jill, thinks we are all competing against her with sports watching. My dad was the sport fanatic in our childhood days. She totally went off in an email about us deciding 'to hop on my daddy ride with sports' and this 'does not give them the right to take up my football time.' Whatever! Who played sports when we were growing up? Hmmm, that would be me! I'm the only one who played volleyball, basketball, soccer, softball, and tried running (a futile attempt). Yeah, yeah, Amaya played a little bit of basketball and soccer. And Laurie did track. What did Jill do? Cheerleading. Whoop dee do! Now, cheerleaders, don't get all excited on me about cheerleading is a sport also. I'm sorry, but my dad would not think cheerleading is a sport. I do not either. It's all about boobs, people - getting your boobs shown on tv. Yep, there you have it. The truth is known now! Watch the damn tv people! Do you see the cheerleaders being televised actually cheering? No! You see the camera on their boobs, shaking their booty. Blech!

Whoa - I went off on a tangent there. Heh heh. Back to the sports thing and my siblings. I'm going to have my say and let Jill know that she is not the only sport watching fan in our family. Damn her!

I love you, Jill.

Sandaholic

My daughter is a sandaholic. The sand is about the only thing she plays with at day care. She will play in the sand pit at the park for hours on end. She will play in her sand table at home on the patio until we tell her it's time to go to bed. I don't mind the mess since it keeps her occupied and happy.

Summer Nights

Man, I absolutely love sitting in my Adirondack chair, sipping a virgin margarita (I'm nursing), listening to Andrea Bocelli, looking up at the stars! Recently my husband and I had a pergola put up on our patio. I love it! We've got the whole set up - four Adirondack chairs, 2 little tables, and a fire pit in the middle. Now we just need some good company.

Anyone care to join?