So this week, I've found a new love... coffee! I never would drink the stuff, but now all of a sudden I can't get enough. Which makes me wonder... have my taste buds changed or and I getting old? And yes, Dad, me getting older just means you're getting older, too! :) Anyway, coffee is for sure a gift from God!
Yesterday, I took Camden to Target to buy candy for this Saturday's Trunk or Treat. For those of you that don't know what this is, it's exactly what it sounds like. Adults line their decorated vehicles in the parking lot (of the church) and the kids walk from trunk to trunk asking for candy. It's a safe "alternative" to trick or treating.... I think it's just an excuse to get more candy. I'm not complaining... Cam does the foot work, I get to enjoy chocolate bliss. :) Anywho, we were in the candy department and he was literally a kid in the candy store. I wish I'd had the video camera. Big eyes, oohs and ahhs, and touching EVERYTHING! After much debate, he decided on a very large bag of Twizzlers. He was so proud of himself! He carried it around the whole store... even though it's almost as big as him. Too cute! We also got a box of Little Debbie "Fall Cakes." We got to church, or as Cam calls it "house" (does that give you any insight to the amount of time we spend there??) and I gave him a package of cakes to take to the nursery. Having never had them before, he grabbed it and squeezed. Then he looked at his hand and said, it a rather pitiful voice, "I bloke it, Mommy." (Yes, everything has a -l in it) We went to the sanctuary to see "The Promise" (contemporary praise band) and he went up to Martha, the church pianist (whom he LOVES), and said, "Marfa, I bloke the cake." Too cute.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Update
Tonight we enjoyed KFC extra crispy to remember our good friend, Clucky. May you rest in piece. (Sorry, I had to do it!)
Thursday, October 16, 2008
I've seen it ALL!!!
You know, when you live in an apartment community, you never know what you're going to experience.
Case it point. Rob and I were sitting on our lovely thrid floor balcony, enjoying the changing leaves. This is something we do pretty frequently...
I just happened to look to my left, and saw a man walking toward the trees. I thought he was carrying a white dog with a red ribbon. He puts the "dog" on the ground and I realize that the cute little puppy is a chicken. That's right, a CHICKEN! I kinda panicked, thinking he was keeping it as a pet or training it to fight. Regardless, a live chicken doesn't belong in an apartment. So, I went inside to get the phone (so Rob could call the management.... I was chicken... no pun intended). I walked back outside to give him the phone and peeked my head around the wall to see if he was still there. He was. And he was, well there's no easy way to put it, slaughtering the chicken. Right out in the middle of the yard! Let's just say that I totally freaked! I know that the chicken pieces in my freezer were once part of a living, breathing, clucking animal.... but I didn't cut it up myself! On a side note, our apartments are not cheap or trashy by any means... we're adjacent to a golf course community... we're talking Real Housewives of Greenville here. Not to mention these are not "accepted social practices of suburban areas in the United States " (Rob asked that I put that in..lol). I don't think that people living here should have to slaughter their own dinner.
So, Rob calls the Club House and tells them that he's watching a gentleman slaughter a chicken. I think they thought he was kidding. After promising that he was indeed telling the truth, they promised to send someone over. Sure enough, about two minutes later two girls (whom we LOVE... they're hilarious) come driving up in a golf cart. Now mind you, I was still hiding behind the corner, but I heard squeamish squeals and "you can't do that here." (Oh yeah, I forgot to say that the whole time the "dinner preparation" is occuring, the guy's on his cell phone.) So the girls drive off and he's standing there with a machete in one hand, dead chicken in the other, and cell phone being held between his ear and shoulder. It really was a comical/ terrifying site.
I thought I'd tell my tale because I'm afraid that Colonal Sanders might come after me for putting a halt to his original recipe. So if you don't hear from me in the next 24 hours, call PETA. I'm sure they'd love this case.
Case it point. Rob and I were sitting on our lovely thrid floor balcony, enjoying the changing leaves. This is something we do pretty frequently...
I just happened to look to my left, and saw a man walking toward the trees. I thought he was carrying a white dog with a red ribbon. He puts the "dog" on the ground and I realize that the cute little puppy is a chicken. That's right, a CHICKEN! I kinda panicked, thinking he was keeping it as a pet or training it to fight. Regardless, a live chicken doesn't belong in an apartment. So, I went inside to get the phone (so Rob could call the management.... I was chicken... no pun intended). I walked back outside to give him the phone and peeked my head around the wall to see if he was still there. He was. And he was, well there's no easy way to put it, slaughtering the chicken. Right out in the middle of the yard! Let's just say that I totally freaked! I know that the chicken pieces in my freezer were once part of a living, breathing, clucking animal.... but I didn't cut it up myself! On a side note, our apartments are not cheap or trashy by any means... we're adjacent to a golf course community... we're talking Real Housewives of Greenville here. Not to mention these are not "accepted social practices of suburban areas in the United States " (Rob asked that I put that in..lol). I don't think that people living here should have to slaughter their own dinner.
So, Rob calls the Club House and tells them that he's watching a gentleman slaughter a chicken. I think they thought he was kidding. After promising that he was indeed telling the truth, they promised to send someone over. Sure enough, about two minutes later two girls (whom we LOVE... they're hilarious) come driving up in a golf cart. Now mind you, I was still hiding behind the corner, but I heard squeamish squeals and "you can't do that here." (Oh yeah, I forgot to say that the whole time the "dinner preparation" is occuring, the guy's on his cell phone.) So the girls drive off and he's standing there with a machete in one hand, dead chicken in the other, and cell phone being held between his ear and shoulder. It really was a comical/ terrifying site.
I thought I'd tell my tale because I'm afraid that Colonal Sanders might come after me for putting a halt to his original recipe. So if you don't hear from me in the next 24 hours, call PETA. I'm sure they'd love this case.
Here We Are!
Hello blog land!!! I was reading a friend from Pensacola's blog and thought, "that might be kinda cool!" Our closest family is about five hours away so this will be a fun way for them to keep up to date on our daily lives. I can't promise that I'll be as clever and witty as Sally, but I'll try!
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