Which earrings would match this bracelet?

What better way to entertain yourself than making a bracelet out of onions?!

We left the onions at the restaurant, but if you look closely you will see that her dress took some of dinner with it.

Following this, we decided to walk down to one of the little inns in town that has a great bar and a huge front porch with lots of wicker seating, ceiling fans, ferns the perfect southern atmosphere complete with resident cat and the local 'regulars'. While walking there, amidst Greta having to stop every 3 feet to clear the sand from her shoes -- sand sidewalks -- we told Greta that we were going to let her have a special treat while we were there, a special drink just for her. We were thinking Shirley Temple, but Greta replied "Oh, beer?"

The 'IT' Factor

'It' happened again.... Chris must just exude manly hormones. He must give off enough testosterone that all of North Carolina is just blown away as he walks by. I know I am, but you see THAT'S OKAY. I'm allowed to be. Pretty much, I'm the ONLY one ALLOWED to be. I'm thinking of creating some personal signage to tag on him when we go out. It's a good thing that, when he's not at work, we are almost always together. (Well, I think that's a good thing, and given the circumstances lately, I'm not letting him out of my site.)

SO...we're in Nordstrom. He's athletic shoe shopping. We're not close enough to a Dick's Sporting Goods (we're not close enough to Nordstrom either, but after an hour and a half in the car 20 more minutes seemed brutal) so who could pass up the Nordstrom shoe department, with sales. Anyways, there we are. They had the shoes he wanted, and in his size, which is the whole reason we went up there because the shoe store in our town NEVER has anything in his size. Mr. Sales Freak -- who must be snorting something each time he goes back to get shoes because he was as perky as...well as anything. I don't do perky, so I can't even think of a good comparison. But perky he was. And loud. But mostly perky. But manly. I want to make this point, that no where in the course of a day would I ever think this guy was necessarily -- less than manly, until the whole shoe shopping conversation.

And so, he brings out 8 bazillion shoes to offer, and giggled (snickered, twittered, whatever, you get my point that it was odd) each time Chris said "no thanks, I just want the ones I came here for."

"Are you sure you don't want me to measure you? You would get a true fit?" (Big heinous grin amidst perk on steroids.)

"No, I know my size. I'm good."

"Here are your shoes. (other useless pleasantries I can't even remember, I'll get to the point now.) WOW, you must swing a hammer or be Popeye or something. Those forearms are huge! (Turn to Greta) Your dad has huge bulging arm muscles doesn't he!"

And then, of course, trying not to fall out of my seat laughing inside my head I was all "WHAT???!!!" and then thinking of how hilarious this was going to be on the blog.

This guy went on and on, and then when Chris put his sandals back on the guy remarked "Ahhh, now I see the tan lines, you must be in golf."

As Chris was checking there was more inane conversation. Isn't it amazing how slowly seconds go by as you are aching with every fiber of your being -- or every bulging muscle in your arm -- when you just want to bust out of a place faster than a freight train? The whole checking out process was like a time warp. And when we walked away, we both just shook our heads.

So BACK off everybody...I know he's great, but he's mine!

nothing

I have nothing that I feel like writing. So, I thought I'd post a couple of pictures of Clara, the way she was before she spent the last 5 days being sick and miserable and having me dose her up on Motrin just so I could be at work for the first week of school. Sorry Clara. And what's even worse (I wasn't even going to tell you this part) here I am, not working today (because for the next 4 weeks we don't have school on Fridays. Don't ask.) and I still sent her to school. At least she doesn't have a fever anymore! Ugh, now I feel rotten. BUT, I am getting some house work done. In between surreptitiously intruding on other people's lives -- oh wait, that's just blogging. Off to put away clothes that no longer fit -- Greta's not mine.

Like a fine steak...

The Child, as she is now to be called. You know, That One.

The one who will stare you down like a hawk who hasn't eaten in weeks.

The one who will flash a grin after moments of seemingly unending impudence.

The one who proudly proclaims her love every 10 minutes, and looks at you and strokes your cheek with her hand with gentleness never before known to man and declares you her 'best friend'.

The one who sucks her thumb as if she was trying to milk her most favorite flavor right out of the tip, who you can hear slurping across the room, and who complains when it actually gets sore. The one who was already admonished at her first 'unofficial' trip to the dentist, who continued to tick off the mom for admonishing her telling her to just "pull it out of her mouth" -- and saying "my child is that age and she doesn't suck her thumb." Incidentally: have you ever seen those "my dog is smarter than your honor student" or "my hamster could kick your honor student's ass" bumper stickers? While I have every hope in the world that my girls are honor students, it wouldn't bother me in the least to have one of those bumper stickers. And I don't even have a hamster. And because I do not think fast when I am faced with a potential moment for a smart comment, I stood there dumb without a response. Until later that night when I had a whole slew of em. I have, however, considered switching dentists. Not for her 'advice', but for her 'my child is already better than your child and I've never even seen your child' comment. Somebody get me a hamster.

So, we tried a "hey why are you sucking your thumb? You're almost 4. 4 year olds don't suck their thumbs."

"Yes they do."

"No, it makes you look like a baby."

"But you know I'm not a baby. I'm almost 4."

"Really, why do you suck your thumb?"(From the mouth of the person who sucked her thumb well until her first round of orthodontics at age 9...all the while knowing full well why she sucks her thumb. BECAUSE IT'S AWESOME that's why.)

I wish I could reiterate the seriousness of the reply, and the exquisite timing. Because following my last question, there was no eye contact, no grin, and not even a moment's pause in between before she most simply said:

"Because it tastes good."

And thus ends the Thumb-Inquisition of July 2009.

For goodness sakes

Okay, lemme tell ya' somethin'. Do you see these pictures? Do you see these darling, honest, pictures of this young lady of nearly 4 years? (Who has seemed to have developed an interest in partial nudity all of the sudden.) I mean, as her mother I do not feel bad saying that I think she is beautiful, intelligent, funny, shows potential talent....As an almost 4 year old, I feel like my daughter is the total package. Already she's a great catch.

But, before I go marrying her off, I suppose I should air her dirty laundry too. However, I do believe this bit of retort does demonstrate intelligent thinking, so keep that in mind please.

It was tacos for dinner. And, knowing we would be lucky if Greta would take so much as a bite of anything on her plate, Chris lovingly made her a small (no overwhelming portions less we dissuade her entirely from the table) open faced soft shell taco.

To which she unheedingly exclaimed: "it looks like diarrhea."

I believe "What?? What did you say???" was his response (takes after me).

"Quesadilla" she innocently batted her eyes, "I said it looks like a quesadilla."

Score one for smarts, negative 5 for ladylike behavior.

Hey, she's faster on her feet (or tongue) than me.

If elephants could fly...

...we'd all have to carry big umbrellas. (stole that one from dad)

I am officially addicted. Hello, my name is Adrienne, and I am an addict. I am addicted to the following: my camera, this blog. The internet is quite possibly another, but I'm trying to take it one step at a time. I'm just willing to address the camera issue first, let me plead my case.

You see, I so easily could just carry my camera wherever I go. I don't care if my big giant so-professional-wannabe camera around, or my little point and shoot I can hide in even the smallest of pockets. Whenever I don't have my camera, all I see as I look around are potential photographs. Be it a bug, or a bird, or the cutest little baby bunny nibbling precariously on the long tall weeds, urrrr grass, outside of my 'learning cottage', the possibilities are everywhere. What if Clara does something special at the grocery store, some facial expression or movement never captured before. I MUST capture and preserve the memory!!! What if I miss a moment that can never be replayed. Never shared with family members. Oh the horror -- how could my parents not record my every waking moment!!!!!!!!!

So you see my problem.

However. On both Saturday AND Sunday, I am proud to say I have made steps towards recovery. We went to the playground BOTH days, and NEITHER day did I bring a photographic device of any sort. Acutally, that's not true. My phone was in the car. But notice, it was IN the car. Not in my hand to use as a backup incase I saw anything that had to be captured for all eternity. So, I will continue this blog to tell you all you would have seen IF I had brought my camera to the playground.

IF I had brought my camera to the playground,

you would've seen Clara

with a giant grin

as she floated effortlessly down the slide.

or the times she feel backwards

and fussed for a moment,

only to sign that she wanted to do it more.

But IF I had brought my camera you

still wouldn't have heard the thud

her head make those times she fell backwards.

IF I had brought my camera,

you would have seen what I saw from my swing

as I swang so high up in the sky I felt like

I was dancing on the branches of the tree nearby

and looked up and just saw pure blue.

IF I had brought my camera to the playground,

for sure you would've seen me one of the 25 times

I jumped off the swing like I was 9 years old

and challenging anyone to jump farther than me.

You would've seen me fly.

You would've seen Chris swinging too.

You would've seen Clara so unsure of herself,

but finding the enjoyment in the rhythm.

You would've seen Greta hang by her her

tiny hands

clinging to life

lest she drop from the monkey bar.

You would've seen me struggle to hang on to the 6 foot zip line.

You would've seen me realize that

I can't do monkey bars.

You would've seen us be silly

having fun

at the playground.

But that's IF I had brought the camera.

Which I didn't.

And, I suppose, I'm really

okay with that.

catching some zzzz's

When they say 'sleep like a baby' they mean it.

Only one girl is truly asleep...
See the faint grin? We have to work on those acting skills.

hey you

And here he is. Mr. Garden-Bar-Waitress-Charmer himself. Something tells me I'm going to have to watch him very very closely from now on...so I post this recent photo of us to him that there's only one curly haired gal that's allowed to slap his bottom.

(and if you have no idea what i'm talking about, please read the previous post)

Accosted!

Looking for an easy, inexpensive, child-friendly, fast-yet-not-fastfood-and-no-our-kitchen place to dull our hunger last night we settled on Ruby Tuesday. Not exactly what I would dream of, but they actually have a pretty good Garden Bar now that will satisfy both kids too.

So, I'm busy dolling out grapes and cherry tomatoes and craisins and ham (to Clara) and pretty much begging Greta to eat anything (she settled on grapes--what nourishment) I delved into my own concoction that I had left on the plate.

Chris returned from his visit and we're chatting about golf, things at school, gossip, etc. After about 10 minutes a waitress walks by and Chris says "see that waitress with the blond curly hair? She hit me on the butt at the salad bar."

Silence.

I was waiting for him to laugh or say just kidding. Nothing. "WHAT?" I strained a yell? I have to admit, I laughed, not because I can't imagine anyone doing that to him, I mean I would, but the fact that a waitress would do it in Ruby Tuesday. At the garden bar. I mean, at least pick a better atmosphere honey. He said she also mumbled something to him before she did it, but he doesn't know what. (At first I thought maybe he just wasn't telling me, but I think he didn't really hear it.) It took about 100 times of me saying, "really are you just kidding me" for me to finally believe it. Then he said that our waiter, who evidently saw the incident, looked at Chris and said "she's a lot of fun". Huh???? Excuse me, but what does that mean? Was it an offer, an invitation, a sarcastic remark? I don't get it. What is going on here, we're bar far the youngest people in here by a good 20 years, is this just a playful ruse?

I really wanted to say something to someone. Whether it be a funny comment, or a "hey did you know one of your waitresses is soliciting customers here?" But Chris implored me not to. I tried to catch miss Curly Blond's eyes, but she didn't pass our way very often (which was odd because we were pretty much in a main drag, I'm thinking she knew I could take her down....)

AND THEN...not to long after all of this, which I really didn't put together until Chris told me later about the comment our waiter made...our waiter comes to the table to, which I thought, wait on us but in hindsight I do not believe was his purpose. So he's taking a plate away or refilling a glass or some waitery thing and he says "it's getting really hot back here, like really hot 'whew' we need the air." It wasn't hot, at all. It's not like we were in some hidden back corner, we were in the front of the restaurant. He was a super friendly, and really good waiter, so I just thought 'well, whatever buddy' and grinned. But later, after putting this whole story together (I'm not that quick, it needed time to sink in) I'm wondering was that some sick comment that had to do with this whole incident? Was he saying Chris is 'hot'? Was he in on all this? I mean, I think Chris is hot, and I don't blame anyone for wanting to whisper sweet nothings and swat him on the butt, but really people. The Garden Bar at Ruby Tuesday? Some things are sacred. Or just sick.

SO...the morning after and I'm still thinking there's more to this that WE don't even know about. I'm considering calling Ruby Tuesday headquarters. I'd go take her down by her blond curly locks (I'm thinking dye job and perm) but I'd have to catch her from behind as I don't even think my arms could get anywhere near her from the front of her do inflict any facial damage. I'd just bounce off, if you know what I mean.

Luckily, we did manage to enjoy the dinner and clearly we're walking away with a hysterical story, but as we payed the bill and left I couldn't help but thinking that -- perhaps -- they should've payed us.

We're Back!

Sorry for the long delay, we've been busy busy busy!

Nana was here for a great visit last weekend. Thanks Nana! The neon pink slap bracelet and headband, the peel off nail polish and the lipstick from 'Greta's Favorite Store' (Claire's) have been found and well-loved. We speak of you while doing ourselves up.

As for me, I headed back to work this week. An enjoyable week of preparing the classroom for this upcoming group, and trying to plan some lessons has been busy and fun. I have a super group this year, they were my last group of first graders I had and I really liked them. Nice, normal kids and parents. How pleasant.

Chris is super busy at the golf course as we are in the throws of summer. It is pretty dry, although this week we enjoyed a nice storm which gave us about an inch and a half of rain, after a rainy Monday morning where we had just under an inch. Good, but not enough to keep Chris from having a short weekend at work. :(

Greta is getting ready to start her pre-K class soon. I can't believe this is her final year of daycare. HOORAY! Next year she will come with me! Ahh, no more breaks to myself. I guess I better 'live 'em up' this year....

Clara is doing okay. She has been walking for 2 weeks now, and we are so proud of her. She remains the happiest baby, and loves to blow kisses which she has added to the ever-present wave she has possessed for a looooong time. She is such a socialite, in a good way -- not the Paris Hilton way. She loooves to babble, and I think might even be singing at times (does a great dance which involves a lot of turning in circles...ever seen one of those bison with the Turning Disease, looks similar.) We have taught her some sign language which she has really taken to, and is a relief since before everthing was 'unh unh' and a headshake no. She signs for cup, eat, more and occasionally thank you. I am going to pick some new ones this weekend. Unfortunately she is still experiencing low iron levels, and even after a month of iron supplements, things haven't improved, so today we were sent to the hospital to have blood drawn. ooooooh myyyyyyyyy. To describe it is something akin to a science fiction novel:

The probe was stuck a third time in the taught skin of the hand only held tighter

by the assistant. It was made even more miserable by the fact that the invaders

had already done this torture twice, once on each arm. As if fierce vampires

unable to drain their prey the probing continued without end, only to final

cease in defeat. Tomorrow, they said. Tomorrow will be the day.

And I wish I was exaggerating! After not finding the vein in either arm -- 3 people involved in this-- and then not getting enough in the hand because her blood started to clot, we have to head back tomorrow to do it all again. The phlebotomists (I love that word) were all extremely nice, and could've kept going but stopped for Clara's sake (either that or they were totally tired of hearing her scream). So, we've made arrangements for Greta to stay with a neighbor while Chris and I take Clara tomorrow morning. There is absolutely no way I could subject Greta to that. She saw Clara get shots once last year and was so upset because Clara was crying, that she was literally shaking. What a sweet sister...what happened....

So, we are busy but doing well. I have some good pictures to post, so in between lesson plans and blood and arguing over toys (it's begun) hopefully I'll be able to share them.

And for the record, someone remind to take off those glasses and stand up straight next time there is a camera pointed at me!

Fourthy Fireworks

What could make the fireworks even more fun, finding a friend there from your class!  Each of them wanted to sit with the other one's parents!

Don't bother me, I'm eating a biter biscuit.  I need to concentrate.

Now I'm ready for hugs and kisses!

We can't believe she actually held a sparkler.  It helps when it's your friend's mom and dad handling things I suppose....

Second wind, or maybe third by then.

YEEEEHAW

She gets her love of riding horses honestly, from both parents.  All gung ho -- until the darn thing starts moving.  There was a picture of her waving briefly, but I figured I'd just get to the meat and potatoes of how this event really went.  Usually I am against riding animals chained to posts forced to walk in circles for hours, but being the mommy that I am, caved for my darling to have this once in a lifetime (come on now) opportunity to shape her future and expand her horizons. Ultimately, we should've pocketed the $3 and just have bought her a sno-cone.  It might rot her teeth, but the memories of this could scar her for life....

weekend part 3

Clara thinking about the amazing time she just had falling all over the playground.

The slide.

Whoa.

Another fun part of our weekend.

weekend -- part two

We are calling this the "Weekend of Greta", although when is it not, but at the pre-fireworks festival, there was a fire engine.  Since a firetruck visited the daycare a few weeks ago, Greta has talked constantly about Sparkey, the firedog/person in dog suit.  She was soooo excited when we told her a firetruck would be there, and all we heard about was going to see Sparkey again.
So, we took the obligatory "on the firetruck" photos, which really didn't do anything for her.
"Hi Mommmy"
Never one to miss a pose with her favorite guy...

(By the way, I think Chris just took awesome pictures today.  Wait 'till you see some others.  I can't wait until Greta can really use a camera so we can actually be in a picture together.  Sans children.)

...unless it's for a new favorite guy.  I tried and tried to capture her running, as fast as her short legs and bulky sandals would carry her, across this small open field and into the awaiting arms of none other than Sparkey, but all the pictures turned out blurry.  Probably because I was laughing so hard and going "oooh" like all of the other people around, who thought it was hysterical.  It was like one of those movie flashback moments where the two people are in soft focus with dreamy music in the background, sunlight positioned just so stirred by just the perfect breeze as two people race to each other (or in Sparkey's case, just stand there) with open arms and hug each other in an embrace so pure it's like honey from the hive and just as sweet.  But no, all I got was the post hug.  But can't you just imagine it?

What a weekend -- part one

I took a lot of pictures this weekend, as we did a lot of things, so I will post the next few days about our exciting weekend.  I think I will post these out of order, however.

Our city/town had a nice little family event.  We didn't watch the fireworks from there (too crowded) but it did kill a lot of time before hand.  And who can resist a giant inflatable slide???

As you can see, Greta was not shy to take on this slide.  Up she went, the first of many trips down.
The first trip down, her eyes bugged out of her head.  She giggled and then ran back to get in line again....
Until she got to the top.  This is Greta holding out her arms and holding up the line for us to come get her because, all of the sudden, she has decided that the trip down was not as much fun as it seemed.  And so, here we are hollering up at her like lunatics, with paparazzi-parents waiting with cameras pointed for Greta to go so their little darlings can be photographically preserved for all eternity, and Chris and I are yelling through clenched teeth 'Greta, you have to come down.  Come down.  Please come down.'  So Chris suggested she try going down on her stomach.
Voila.  It worked.  (Who's the dumb mommy who put her kid in a dress anyways....Hey, at least mine was wearing underwear.  There was one little girl who decided to take on the world, and the slide, as a free spirit.  Hope she wasn't one of the ones walking away with slide burns anywhere....)  And so, this was one of probably 25 other trips down the slide, which ended finally in Greta deciding to go down once more on her butt.  Which looked very much like the first photo, just with more smiles. 

Behold the Avocado

One of the things I'm really enjoying about this particular break from school, is that I have found a TON of cool stuff I want to read on the internet.  Useful stuff too.  I'm not talking emails from the entire Senate Communitee from Nigeria like I just received in my inbox, I'm talking valuable places. Obviously, as you read this, you are at least someone familiar with blogging, meaning you are aware of what one is.  

I have come to determine that blogging can be the most awesome thing in the world, or totally stupid.  There are millions of blogs out there.  It's amazing what some of them are about, I know, I've been reading a lot.  But I really enjoy the reads.  Not only do I feel like I am learning what to do, but what not to do as well.  I've learned so much, and am motivated to, sometime in the future, take my blog to the next level.  I'm not sure what that entails yet, but I'll keep you posted.

One thing about blogs though, is that they don't all have a purpose.  I feel like this blog has a purpose, right?  To share with friends and family all that is happening with the Nolls Down South, especially important when most of you (probably all of you who read this) are so far away. 

HOWEVER, it also amazes me how interesting it is to read things that people write, that have no importance or relevance to anything at all.  One lady has an immensely popular blog from which she earns oodles of money, and so far as I can tell she uses her caustic wit to write about her family, her latest skin-cancer-scaring mole, and takes pictures of balancing things on her dog's head.  I can do ThAT! (Write about stuff, not balance things on my dog's head.  Although....)

If I see one more money-saving coupon blog preppy blog I just might hurl plaid, and yet I am strangely addicted.  (If you want to see some of the favorite blogs I'm following click on my profile and you will see them.  A couple are people I know, and one is my cousin Hayley's.)

So, as we are on this blogging journey together, don't be surprised if you see something, that maybe doesn't make sense.  That's okay.  It's me, stretching, growing, practicing, e v o l v i n g.  Tell me it's stupid if you want, I don't care.  Just read.

Let's practice:

I have a new favorite food.  It didn't start as love at first bite, it has evolved slowly and has reached addiction proportion.  In fact, as I write this, I am lavishing every bite of this velvet delight -- all that is...the Avocado.  I had never had an avocado, I had never bought an avocado even, until I was getting ready to make Clara's baby food when about 8 months ago. I mean, I know I like guacomole, so it would make sense.... I read my favorite baby food website, and it talked about avocado being a perfect first baby food.  What the heck, I thought.  And sure enough, Clara loved them, and still does.  I would try nibbles here and there as I mixed different concoctions for her, and it took a really long time but for some reason, very unlike me, I continued to try it.  And low and behold, one fine day, it occurred to me how absolutely fascinating this food really was.  And from there on, it's history.  I'm addicted.  I think about avocado, too often to be normal, but that's addiction isn't it.  And so, while I was just going to eat some and save the rest to give Clara with dinner, I think I will gobble this up with my piece of Tuscan de broule -- really good bread -- and call it lunch.

And while this part of the post may be useless, inane, or totally irrelevant, if you haven't eaten lunch yet I bet your stomach just growled.

Here I Come

I just don't feel like writing anything, and I think these pictures speak for themselves.  Look very carefully at the last picture...