"Mom, I have fum at da Brachiosaurus."

I realize that this post might not be as late as some of my others, but I was already in bed, and got up to post. So that has to count for something.

Have you ever had one of those days, that was just so perfect, it was almost surreal?
 Today was one of those days, and I cannot stop thinking about it.

"Mom, I have fum at da Brachiosaurus." This is what my son said to me in the car moments before he completely passed out.

The Brachiosauras is, to my son anyway,  the Indianapolis Children's Museum. In case you haven't been there in a while, they created a new entrance and there is a giant brachiosaurus peeking in the window. It is pretty amazing.

One of the greatest joys of being a parent is watching your child discover and fall in love with something that you yourself love.
Both Everette and I grew up going to the children's museum; our feelings toward the place are pretty mutual. And in 25+ years not a tremendous amount has changed. Of course there are new exhibits, but there are many that are the same.  I remember climbing up the spiraling ramp to the highest level to play with the locks, and getting lost looking at all the miniature houses and villages.

I remember the train.

I remember the water clock.

The Children's Museum is magical. It is a giant building filled with wonderful things, that invite you to touch and experience.  There are no ropes keeping you away from the glass, instead there are portals inviting you to crawl through and stand inside the exhibit.

You don't have to keep your hands to yourself or use your inside voices.  You can explore, and imagine, and build,

and dig, and learn, and wonder.

I will admit when we first came in, the new entrance was so different, I was sad. I was grieving a lost chance to share something with Jonathan, I remember so fondly.
But thankfully, the entrance was only a facade, and once inside the layout had not changed.
We began at the dinosaurs...
and moved to the trains, where we could have stayed for the rest of the day.

In fact, leaving the trains was the only moment, Everette and I wondered, if we were really up for this adventure. But we carried on.
We then climbed to the top level to play in the water,

 and the trains were a distant memory... but not forgotten.

 Quite honestly, I am not sure who had more fun.

and then the carousel...

It was at the carousel I had an epiphany.  We were scrounging around our wallets trying to find an acceptable form of currency to purchase our carousel tokens. At first, it looked like I would only be watching, as we were having difficulty finding what we needed. But we figured it out. Once we all had tokens we moved to the line, I read (for the first time) about the history and restoration of the carousel.
Our turn came quickly, and as I suspected, once we boarded the carousel, Jonathan (a.k.a Indiana Jones)

got a little uneasy. He was hesitant to sit on the horse.

Everette strapped him in anyway and stood close, while Jonathan clung tightly to his shirt.

I hopped up on the lion next to him.
The carousel started to spin and the calliope started to play and I thought about the history of  this beautiful ride. And I began to see the magic of the carousel. I thought about the millions of children, small and grown who had climbed aboard these horses and pretended to fly.
I am not sure I can explain what I felt as watched My son ride his first carousel and quickly overcome his fears and fall in love as he looked up at the twinkling stars. I can only tell you there was a lump in my throat and a few tears stung my eyes.

And then, as quickly as it came, the music stopped and the carousel slowed, it it was over.
We headed downstairs for lunch, and finished the afternoon with Big Bird and Elmo at the planetarium.

(

(We took this picture waiting for the show to start. I think it's hilarious!!!! And very telling of our deliriously happy day!)
 
Perfect for a tired two-year old.

Jonathan, I had fun at the Brachiosaurus too.

Please notice the cookie face to complete the day....

Everette and Jonathan thank you for sharing such a magical day with me!

Dear Emily

Dear Emily,

Ten years from now when your mom tells you that your cousin is coming over for the afternoon, and you roll your eyes and sigh because your cousin is a pimply-faced prepubescent smelly preteen boy with braces and bad breath, who talks about playing dungeons and dragons all day. And you, are a spunky beautiful blond-headed ball of sweetness.

Please remember that you used to play together. You used to run together, and hold hands, and share, and laugh together.

You used to take tubbies together, and splash every bubble out of the tub, cackling hysterically.

Try to remember you used to climb all over things together, and share your toys, and your food, and your diapers and your clothes.

People used to think you were twins, as you giggled and toddled around.

Remember when you used to ride in the wagon together to go feed the donkeys

Try to remember these things when your dorky cousin comes to visit. Try to also understand that this phase will pass (I hope). Some day soon, he will grow out of his awkward goobery phase. He will grow up and stop talking about boogers and farts (well mostly... at least in public). And maybe then you can be friends again.
Maybe then you can teach him that girls don't like to be farted on, and that girls appreciate it when a boy takes the time to shower once a month, and maybe, just maybe, use deodorant. And that they like it when you hold doors open for them.

Maybe you can tell him when he has put on too much cologne, and when his room is beyond disgusting.
Maybe you can teach him how to be nice to girls.
And maybe, when your big brother is off to college, you can keep your cousin around, to keep those silly boys away.  Or drive you places (since he will get his license before you).
And maybe you can talk about how totally ridiculous and unfair your parents are being, when they never let you date (other people). Or you can roll your eyes together at family events.

Emily, this is your aunt talking, and I am invoking that special Aunt-Niece bond. I am begging you, please don't forget, that you were friends with that strange creature.

Remember that once you were friends.

Lots of love,
Aunt Meg

If Robin Hood ate Little John and Friar Tuck AND was Drunk

Last Friday we went to a hockey game in Indianapolis. We being, Everette, my dad, my nephew, and of course me (thus making it "we" not "they"). It was the last of the tickets in a bunch Everette got for me for Christmas.
We had a great time. But this curious scene unfolded in the seats in front of us.

There was this guy (let's call him Sasquatch). He was in two rows in front of us. He was a Big guy. And "big" is a relative term. And it is relative to... me.  He had wild big hair, and a wild big beard. Everything about this guy was big.

Anyway.. in an effort to make money, as the seats in the Pepsi coliseum continue to empty, the Indiana Ice people decided that selling beer wasn't enough. So they now sell cocktails.
And this guy had one empty one at his feet and a full one in his hand (and they were large cocktails). I am guessing this wasn't the sum total of alcohol in his stomach because.... seriously this was a big dude. And this dude was already talking loud.
Let me also say, that I don't care that people drink. I love people who drink. I drink. But I am very uncomfortable around people who are drunk.  Even people I know and love. Drunk people are unpredictable. They make me very uneasy. And having an unconventional college experience, I haven't been around that many people who are drunk.
So this guy was seriously distracting me. He was randomly high-fiving people who walked by. I was anxious and having heart palpitations. Not to mention my 7-year-old nephew was sitting next to me.
At one point these two "event girls" came over and started talking to him, trying to get him to participate in a trivia game. Thankfully he had enough sense to decline.
He did however, loudly, petition a guy a few rows over to play the trivia game in his place. He also cheered him on belligerently,  when the guy actually played the trivia game. (Which incidentally, I would have totally kicked butt at). 
Later in the game they came out in the crowd to throw T-shirts.
One t-shirt was thrown to our left near the front of our section. Whoever it was thrown to, missed and it fell to the stair case below. A young boy  (maybe 4) and his mother jumped up to try to snag it. But apparently the guy who dropped (we will call him the Grinch) from upstairs beat them to it, and refused to give it to the boy. So the boy and his mother returned dejectedly to their seats.

Sasquatch was a bleary-eyed witness to the whole ordeal. And began to bellow at the injustice.
He started shouting  "Give the t-shirts to the kids!" "Hey man! let the kids have the shirts!"
"hey A**hole! Give the shirt to the kid"
The Grinch did what every other normal person does when they hear a drunk person shouting. Avoid eye-contact and pretend not to hear him.
Sasquatch would not let it go. He got up out of his seat and walked over to the Grinch.
At this moment there could have been an all out brawl on the ice and I wouldn't have noticed. I was fixed on the drama between Sasquatch and the Grinch.
I couldn't hear what they were saying, but eventually Sasquatch got up and left, without the shirt.
Sasquatch left the seating area all together for a while.
He returned... with a beer and a t-shirt. He made his way down to the little kid and his family.
Sasquatch bought the kid a t-shirt. From where I was sitting I could see the kids face. On it an expression of sheer joy... peppered with a heavy dose of fear.

There was apparently a catch.
As an expression of gratitude, Sasquatch requested a fist bump.  The little boys eyes widened in terror.

I could physically see his wheels turning. "How badly do I want this t-shirt? Can I get my parents to buy it?  What will this guy do if I refuse? Will he eat me?"
With some cajoling from his older brother, the boy eventually bumped.
I myself was torn between my own uneasiness, and this overt act of kindness.

It seems Robin Hood was incognito last Friday. I would hate to see Maid Marian.

Why Me?

Tuesday evening I was driving home with Jonathan from Everette's parents house. I was chatting with Everette on the phone (we were doing our family bedtime ritual when Daddy is away). Jonathan had just returned the phone to me... Then all of a sudden. Out of NOWHERE! My son vomits. Everything he had eaten that day.
Everything.
I told Everette I would call him back.
Then I debated whether to pull over or keep driving. We were about half way finished with the 15 minute trip. Ultimately I decided to keep driving, because really, what was I going to do on the side of the highway in the dark. Spread it everywhere and get it all over me. That's what I would do.
Poor Jonathan was a super trooper. He made these pitiful cries every once in a while. Who could blame him. It was all over his hands.
It was only a few seconds later when the smell invaded. 
I have to say, I can handle all sorts of blood and guts. Exposed bone, etc. But I have two kryptonites: puke and large amounts of snot.They make me a little weak in the knees.
Needless to say I rolled down all the windows.
When we got home, I had to figure out the best way to remove the offender and the offended car seat.
I opted for one fell swoop. I very carefully reached around Jonathan to unlatch the cursed car seat latch system. Lifted the whole thing up and set it on the garage floor.
I took a deep breath and began to unbuckle Jonathan.  Then I looked at him, and looked at myself. How was I going to get him upstairs...
I didn't trust him to walk it. But I sure as heck didn't want to hold him!
I grabbed the towel I spread under his carseat (Best mommy idea I EVER had-- that sucker has saved me more than once... last minute carseat removal to carry an adult passenger, gasp in horror at the crumbly crud collected under the seat-- pick up corners of the towel, and flick the crud on the ground. The seat is clean and crumb free!--and you don't have to apologize profusely for the seat they are about to sit in, the floor, however, is another matter). I wrapped him up like a burrito in the towel and carried him upstairs.
Then I stripped his clothes, I thought about calling for the jaws of life to remove his shirt... since it was a t-shirt and my son has a HUGE head,  (Like Father like son) it seemed like too much to attempt. But we braved the neck hole. 
Then into the tub, where I sent up a prayer of thanks for the detachable sprayer. Jonathan played in the tub while I went down to tackle the car seat. I will spare you the details, but I will say, the next car seat I buy, I will be taking that sucker apart before I purchase. Why on earth are there deep pockets in the plastic base?! Do you know what collects down there? Puke, that's what.
I will be making sure EVERY buckle and latch comes off.

The rest of the week has been full of more bodily fluids. Jonathan woke up the next morning with a super full poopy diaper. That kid has had his quota of tubbies for the month.
On the bright side... I have been meaning to clean Jonathan's car seat for a while.
I just want to know why all this crap happens when Everette is out of town?

Pancakes!

so this most is as much for me as anyone else. Making pancakes is not as easy as it seems.I made some tonight and they were pretty amazing. So I'm gonna write
it here so I can remember later.

1 batch makes 10 medium sized pancakes.

1 1/2 cups of SELF-RISING flour (this is very important).
1 T sugar
1/4 t of salt
1t of baking powder
1/4 t baking soda

4T of cold butter
1 egg, beaten
1c buttermilk
1T vanilla

mix dry ingredients together.
cut in cold butter with pastry cutter til crumbly
add buttermilk, egg and vanilla

heat griddle and melt butter.
cook pancakes at 375

VARIATION: banana pancakes... make as above, slice banana, and pour thin layer of batter onto griddle add slices of banana and cover with more pancake batter.. make sure bananas are not exposed as they will burn and taste yucky!

If you don't have self rising flour I would suggest doubling the baking powder.

Freak Show

The circus has come to town, and they are staying at our house.
Actually it's more like a dog and pony show... without the ponies... ponies would be nice.

We are dog sitting Everette's parents dogs for a few days. And  this is how my day started.

7:15 AM the alarm went off. Actually all three alarms went off. The battery operated alarm, the radio in the bathroom, and the fail safe alarm in the next room. Unfortunately, that alarm doesn't have a snooze, and it is one of those annoying alarms that only gets louder with time.

7:25 AM (yes I said 7:25 don't judge me).I went to retrieve the sounding alarm. Brought it into bed and turned it off with PBS and milk. Yes again. don't judge me.

8:10 AM begin to rouse.  Everette and I begin to alternate trips to the bathroom. Think about old we are getting.

8:20 AM Everette's dad arrives with the dogs. A flurry of wagging tails and butt sniffing ensues.

8:40 AM We herd all the dogs upstairs and hop back into bed for some more snuggle time. We are big snugglers over here.

9 AM go downstairs with all three dogs to make breakfast. Let dogs outside and enjoy relative peace and quiet.

9:10 AM peek outside to check on dogs. Things are fine. Continue making breakfast

9:20  Go outside with jonathan in my bare feet to collect dogs. Realize two of the dogs have escaped the electric fence and have wandered into the neighboring yards and one found a petrified marshmallow to chew on. Attempt to call them.
Quickly realize the whole power balance of this dog pack is off. My dog suddenly doesn't think he has to listen to me. The others are too fascinated with all of the new smells to notice me. Not to mention that one is almost completely blind and largely deaf. However I am in my bare feet and we haven't scooped poop since August and I am not going out there. So I begin to call more loudly and more impatiently. I finally get two dogs in (along with Jonathan) and stomp my feet to get the blind one to follow the sound of my feet to the door.
Meanwhile, my dog tries to slip past me in a desperate attempt to retreive his marshmallow.
In a fit of rage I grab him by the collar and drag him into the house while he coughs and hacks from his restricted airway. While this may sound cruel-and it probably is... please believe me that this is an incredible exercise in restraint on my part.

9:30 AM Continue to herd the dogs and my son up the stairs to Everette's office in hopes to take a shower in peace. Cursing the layout of my house.
You see... my house is a figure 8 with my stairs right at the cross, which means the dogs have two other escape routes in addition to the stairs. Three if they can manage a 360 and slip past me.
At this point I am shouting both out of anger and so blind/deaf dog can hear me and stop wandering aimlessly around the house. Cursing myself for letting the situation get so totally out of control and making it worse as the dogs sense my frustration.
At one point my dog defiantly ran away from me.  which brought me to a boiling point and I am sad to say that I smacked my dog hard on his rump.
As I herd them chaotically up the stairs and down the hall to the office pounding on the wall so blind/deaf dog will follow along, I open the office door and Everette yells at me, because... he is... working....on the phone... in his office... where he works... and I am screaming like a possessed woman in the hallway.
So I turn the dogs around and take them into the bedroom.

9:40 AM With child and dogs trapped in the bedroom I turn on the shower. All along I had planned to take Jonathan in the shower with me (it had been a while people, and it wasn't going to happen that night either). Quickly began to regret this decision. Jonathan became a clingy whiny baby (imagine that... what audacity). He likes the shower, but he likes you to hold him in the water.. so much for cleaning.

10 AM I open the shower door and step on blind/deaf dog (because he didn't hear/see the door open and I was holding whiny/clingy baby).
Try to get dressed in my bedroom that has become a labyrinth of doggie beds. Remember when you were little and you used to hop around on things pretending the floor was burning hot lava? You could have a great time doing that in my bedroom.

10:20 everyone is mostly decent and mostly calm and I herd the dogs down the hallway back to Everette's office. I apologize for screaming like a wild banshee and the dogs get settled.

10:30AM  I go down to make sack lunches for the park.

11:00 AM Jonathan and I head out to the garage to load up. I open Jonathan's door for him to climb in, run in realizing I forgot something. Head back to the car, hop in, hit the auto door close, turn on the car. As I reach to put the car in reverse, I gasp as I realize I never actually buckled jonathan in. I look back and realize he isn't in his seat! I punch the auto door button and it changes directions. I turn off the car and run around to see my son halfway into the car, totally unphased.
Send up repeated prayers of thanks. buckle my son in, and head back to the drivers seat.
Stop. take a breath. try to slow my pulse and regain the strength in my knees as I reel from the prospect of both squishing my son in the door or running him over.
Realize I am WAY too stressed out mostly of my own making and I need to get a grip!

11:13 AM pull out of the drive way headed to our 11 AM play date.
welcome to the Freak Show that is my life... mostly me.
****************************************
some of you might read this and think I am being a little crazy about the dogs. And I would just like to say:
1. you are right I am and largely for no good reason--I have issues.
2. I am not a dog person.. and I am definitely not a multiple dog person.
3. Everette's parents dogs are getting along in years, and have a history of relieving themselves of... whatever, in some dark corner of your house when you aren't looking. So I am obsessed with letting them out often and keeping them in eyesight at all times.

On that note: Mary and WL if you are reading... we are ending day two and your dogs have been really good. I am starting to relax a little. and I think we'll all make it! And don't feel bad about leaving your dogs with me-- it is really mostly me being psycho, and I am sooooooooooooooooooooooooo indebted to you. I already have years of backlogged babysitting and dog-sitting hours. We are getting a system and it is working fine. I promise.

Irony

In my last post I mentioned my mom's self-acknowledged disdain for cooking. My mom has made some... interesting food for us through the years. Her biggest problem aside from the psychological pains of being in the kitchen period, is her troublesome theory, that she knows better than the recipe.  She can take a recipe and completely disregard critical ingredients. Substituting them for things like applesauce or omitting them all together
It would be impossible to list all of her concoctions, but let's do a few eh?

1. Soy ice cream--this she made for desert on Father's day. A real treat. Now we have some family that occasionally abstain from dairy products when this might be acceptable. But Father's Day was not such an occasion.
2.Sumo wrestling yeast rolls. Yeast rolls that mom has allowed to rise too long and their fat bellies lop over the side of the muffin tin.
3. cottage cheese and (insert your least favorite flavor of )jello.
4. Lasagna with tofu.
5. pudding with tofu. ( I could spend a whole day on tufu and the gross things my mom has done with it).
6. brownies made with applesauce (while I realize many of these may seem like my mother's unappreciated attempts at making us eat healthy--I assure that is not completely the case-for some reason these are what come to mind--I have issues).
7.There is only one way to eat steak in my mom's kitchen. Extra crispy.
At any moment in time you can open up my mom's fridge and find some dark, slimy something.  Pick it up in order to dump it, assuming it was something old and forgotten, and my mom will say, "wait, don't get rid of that, that is such and such. I am eating it for lunch.

There are a few things that I remember mom making really well.
1. Pizza from the Battle Ground pizza king  (hey-somebody had to place the order).
2. Ham and bean soup (even as a really young kid, I remember loving it.)
3. Pot roast. I remember my mom making killer pot roast. Eating it on Sundays after church.

So here's the irony. After posting about how I am becoming like my mom... I made a pot roast.
It was not good.
I can't really say what happened. It was some bizarre combination of over and under cooked. I followed the recipe, and it still turned out whack. Not inedible, but not melt in your mouth delicious.
So I have decided to make it my personal mission to make an awesome pot roast. Good thing I have about four down in my freezer. (you get lots of roasts when you buy a quarter of a cow).
I'll let you know how it turns out.

My mother has a hex on her.

You may have read this in my previous posts (if not.... what they heck is your problem?), and thought it was a joke. But it is not.
My mom is cursed.

Before I go any further I need to explain a couple of things.
1. I am 28 (ack!) I realized when I was 20 that I am slowly (or quickly) turning into my mother. My mom is a lot like her mom and has spent several decades denying it. I am taking a different approach. I am embracing it head on.  Shortly after I had the aforementioned epiphany, I realized that although there are lots of things that drive me batty about my mom, when it comes right down to it.. she is pretty awesome. And there are, in fact, a lot of qualities I would like to have from her. So if, in order to obtain the good, I have to take with them all the bad, I willingly succumb to the transformation, and consider myself the better for it. The other advantage to this approach, is that since I know that I already do and will continue to have them as life goes on, I believe it gives me full license to tease my mother mercilessly. And she, in good spirit, takes what she so often invites.

2. the other important fact is, one way in which we differ. My mother does not cook. I would say cannot, but I think it is more of a disdain than an ability issue. I may not be the most gourmet of chefs, but it is something I really enjoy.

My mother does however, love to make drinks.  No, not the adult kind, although more than once I found a funny tasting Sprite can laying around the kitchen counter, in my youth.  Whenever we have a family get together, mom is in charge of the drinks. She has a famous punch recipe, requested by anyone who knows her.
She loves to experiment with mixing different flavors and trying bizzare new beverages.
In fact I will end this post with her fantastic no calorie Kool-Aid recipe.

Just to keep you hanging on.

  I think this drink mixing obsession is getting a little carried away.
A few days ago, I opened my fridge after my mom had visited and found this.

That's right folks, three opened cans of soda.

Allow me to explain. They were opened, because my mom made herself a suicide (you know when you mix all the soda at the soda fountain together in your giant 789 oz cup). Only she made it in a glass at my house with canned pop.

The Coke Zero is to maintain the original coke flavor with few calories and to avoid the evil Aspartame.
The Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi is because in my mom's old age she is a little sensitive to caffeine... and lettuce (ironically, not cabbage... homegirl can eat cabbage by the bag-- love ya mom!). And finally the cherry coke, for the cherry flavor, because my ma loves cherry!

And because she probably hasn't discovered that Coca Cola makes Cherry Coke Zero too.

But I still haven't gotten to the hex.
In my mother's quest for hydration she carries her beverages with her. She has a collection of bottles and cups for her every beverage needs. She has
water bottles,

McDonalds coffee cups,

Family Express fountain drink cups.... And she likes to carry these cups... in her purse. Her problem is, she repeatedly, fails to properly seal these cups. And they spill... all the time..in her purse! All the time!!!!
Her purses smell like coffee and Soarin' Roarin' Strawberry Lemonade.

 Seriously, this is my future here. I do not make this stuff up.

This has been going on for many years, my mom has shown me important papers wrinkled with coffee stains. I myself, have been the recipient of birthday cards, checks and cold hard cash, sweet smelling and pale pink. This curse has even parlayed into the occasional soup dump. If it is liquid, it has been in the bottom of my mom's bag.

Most recently my mom and I were embarking on a great adventure. We were headed east to visit my aunt in Cleveland.                                    (sorry Nancy, I couldn't resist!)

It was just the two of us and Jonathan. I picked her up and we were headed out the door with the final load of her stuff (you would be amazed at the amount of stuff two adults and a toddler can generate). I had her bags and she had Jonathan. I watched as she stuck her Big chug into her purse.

My subconscious said "mom, is the lid on?" But I thought surely, she would have put the lid on, surely she has learned her lesson. So I kept my mouth shut. Giving her the benefit of the doubt.

She put her bag down to buckle Jonathan in the back seat. I went around to start the car. My mom picked up her purse and eased her self into her seat, as she was pulling the door closed, I heard an expletive escape her mouth. Now in my mom's defense, she rarely swears.  So I knew it must be something bad.
Then I watched as she leaned back out the door, pinched her bag closed the way you strain a pot so as not to lose the contents, tipped her purse and poured 32 ounces of Soarin' Roarin' Strawberry lemonade goodness out of her mercifully red purse onto the driveway.

At this point there was nothing to do except for both of us to erupt into hysterical laughter. Gut-busting, eye-watering, head-rearing laughter. The laughter continued for miles as my mom proceeded to empty the contents of her purse, asses the damage and pitifully blot them with paper towels. Which she tried to refuse when I first offered them.
The laughter reprised at every rest stop as my mom attepmted to sort through her pile to find money only to find it pink and wet, and finally when we reached her destination and her purse contents were sprawled out in the bedroom drying by fan.

The important lesson learned here is to never offer to carry my mom's drink in your bag. Please, I beg you.
And if this ever happens to me even once.... please someone slap me. Hard.

See you thought I forgot....
Soarin' Roarin' Strawberry No Calorie Kool-Aid
1 gallon jug
2 pckts SR Strawberry Lemonade
9 pkts Raw Stevia
3-4 pkts of Splenda
water

Heat 1 c of water in microwave and mix in all powders to dissolve. add to rest of water, taste, add splenda if necessary.
Other variations... sometimes my mom adds a little diet Hawaiian Punch or Ocean Spray cranberry juice, just to keep it interesting.
However, I must warn you to imbibe at your own risk... I am not sure if the hex is contagious!

Bow to my awesomeness!

I promise to get back to the "my mother has a Hex on her" story... but I just had to post this.

Honey,
you would be so proud.
Seriously... if there was ever a moment in your life when you should be proud of me (in addition to the time I allowed my self to be strapped to a table and in order for the doctor to bring, by force, our son into the world) this is it!

So I just embedded a video from Youtube on a previous post. No big deal. everybody does it right?
Right.
Except after I posted it I realized that the video was significantly larger than my blog column. So what did I do????
I clicked "Edit HTML", I read the code, found the line that determined the video width. and changed it and it worked.
That is right. I read computer code, and I edited it. All by myself. Everette isn't even home for backup!
Suhweet!

You may all take a moment to marvel in my awesomeness.

Seriously, I'm waiting...

just a little more.

in other news.... look at the video!

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming...

For this special announcement...
So there is this blog that I drop in on occasionally, and he is currently on a Compassion BLogging trip... which is GENIUS by the way!!!!

I have been hopping around to some of hte other blogs and found this video that seems worth sharing.... it is long but worth the watch.
You can say what you want about Compassion, but the truth is they are taking Christ where a Lot of us would not dare to go.