You know that part in Mean Girls where Regina glues her own picture in the Burn Book and for a minute you are thinking, "No, she didn't..." but oh yes, she did. Follow me: after Sam puked on me in the hall upstairs (sorry Katie and kids) I ran downstairs to get my Toddler Spray cleaner. I sprayed and sprayed. I scrubbed and sprayed some more. Then I realized. Burn book! Except there was no book. But for sure burn. Burn in my carpet from BLEACH. You heard it sister. I sprayed bleach cleaner (which I scored for 37 cents, thanks Target coupons) all into my carpet. I will now be accepting donations for new carpet for my home. Help a sister out.
Sam likes to say "wee-hah" a lot and enjoys swinging straws around as well as his magnetic fishing pole which goes with one of his puzzles. I learned yesterday that when he says "wakko" while swinging items around in the air, he is really saying "lasso". Thanks Backyardigans for raising my son.
Picture of Sam from summertime... he's much chubbier, taller, and has a big boy haircut now. I'm not good at taking pictures. Sorry kiddos.
Maybe baby girl is not coming yet because I have not posted in forever, nor have I posted about how excited I am about her arrival. We really do love you baby. Sam points to your bassinet and says "baby" and he is climbing into your bouncer and to the storage compartment underneath your bassinet which he inevitably gets stuck in and then says "stuck, stuck, stuck". Your dad does not think I have my "wits about me" anymore. Which is totally true. We have no name for you because we need to see your precious little face. Your dad is quite proud of his rap lyrics to this song which he hopes will result in total intimidation by his fellow Yahoo Fantasy Basketball cronies. But I promise he's not like this. Do you need me to eat more pumpkin chocolate chip cookies to get things going? I think yes... who cares that it is only 4:45 AM.
Here's the thing... part of my individual blog hiatus stems from the fact that as I idly peruse the lives of others via their blogs, I get a bit nauseous. I'm a bad person. Hope you don't blow chunks reading this post.
Got a message from my brother the other day saying we haven't had a new post for like 5 months or so. It's 60 degrees in early march in Michigan so I figure there's no better reason to post a video and tell a story.
Video (above).
Story:
I am driving to a meeting from one building to another this morning and have to drive down the main thoroughfare to get there. It's one of those streets that doesn't have many stoplights and for all intensive (purposely wrote that) purposes is a freeway but they make the speed limit 55 because it's still technically a street and you can't have a street with a speed limit of 75 (now that I think of it I think it's a highway - Blue Star Highway in fact... in fact again I looked it up on Wikipedia (the Google of online encyclopedias) and strangely enough it says "Much of US 31 from the Indiana-Michigan state line and Ludington is built to freeway standards. Two notable exceptions are a short segment between Napier Ave and I-94 near Benton Harbor..." (sic the hyperlinks - those are the links from the article and I'm not removing them) which I think is the area I reference above.).
That being said - just because the speed limit is 55 it doesn't mean anyone goes 55 (I can't drive 55 - just like that song says). So I am heading south on an apparently unimproved portion of the Blue Star highway when I see a white Dodge Charger (sidenote trivia: when did police cars change from the Ford Interceptor? Trick question, apparently they are being phased out in 2011 so they have likely not transitioned in all locales) with lights on top which, to me, is a dead giveaway for a police car. The police car was heading north and as I mentioned I was heading south so he quickly makes a U-turn (across a double yellow -Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?) and I slam on the gas.
Sike.
I just pull over like a sweater. So then the guy asks me. "What's the hurry?" What kind of response are they looking for here? I tell him I'm late for a meeting because it's the most true thing I could think of given such short notice. My intent was to communicate that 1) yes, I was in a hurry and 2) I work for the company that keeps much of this town running. Is that an uppity, white-privilege thing to say. Might be - but all I have on my mind is the escalating cost of my Michigan no-fault insurance and how that might affect my ability to go out to lunch when I want to. So then he says "the speed limit is 55 you know". I say "ok" - I've been pulled over enough times to know not to say "I know" which is an admission of guilt something I am not going to do while there is still hope for a warning.
MB: "how fast was I going?" Copper but not The Fox and the Hound version: "How fast do you think you were going"
nice try Copper... MB: "I don't know I was just driving" Copper but not The Fox and the Hound version: "You we're going 68" Copper but not The Fox and the Hound version: "What's your driving record like?"
This is a tough one because have I been pulled over a lot? Yes. To be honest I've gotten out of a ton of tickets so my driving record is...
MB: "Pretty good"
At this point the standard routine, the officer sits in his car while I stew.
Copper but not The Fox and the Hound version: "You need to slow down and pay attention."
Exeunt Copper.
So I tell that story to ask this. Are Berrien County's Finest that savvy? Are they really asking those questions to see if I will admit to speeding because they may or may not have gotten a reading on the pitching gun thing? I mean this guy was driving the opposite way at what better be less than 55 miles an hour. Does his car alert him when someone passes him going over the speed limit?
