It's beginning to sound a lot like Christmas

I'm still blogging my trip over at an audience of me and posting photos on flickr.

If you've got a hankering for some Christmas tunes, check out this little project my son's friends put together for the holidays. It'll make you smile! Bunch of talented kids, they are. I can't swear to it, but I'd imagine all the instrumentation is original, nothing canned. A little traditional stuff, a little funky stuff (I Saw Three Ships like you've never heard it, maybe!). Ryan's friend Kristin does an absolutely gorgeous O Come, O Come Emmanuel, too.

Ryan sings number 4 -- You Gotta Get Up, a cover of a Rich Mullins song, also recorded by the immortal Five Iron Frenzy. (Well, I guess logically Rich Mullins is the immortal one now, may he rest in peace!) We used to pull out the Mullins recording to wake the kids up on Christmas morning. (YES ... we had to wake the kids up. We are a bunch of undying night owls in this family, even as little children.) I can almost picture Ryan's three or four-year-old wonder at Christmastime when I listen to him sing here.

Look ma, no hands!

It's pitiful that I haven't updated in more than three weeks, I know. If you're still reading, thanks for checking in faithfully anyway! I guess I'm going to have to start jabbing Kristen in the side to get her to say something new and hilarious, huh? ;-)

Seems like I always post on the first day of school, though, so I must keep up the tradition.

Fall is not in the air here. Not at all. I didn't even get that weird little rush that usually comes with the first day of school, where you can somehow imagine fall is coming, even when it's still blazing hot. Now, if school had started LAST week, in the midst of some cooler, rainy days, maybe.

Today was surprisingly easy for day 1. I'd estimate about 15%, or 10 of the requisite forms are filled out (with exactly the SAME FREAKING INFO as last year! Can we just get a computer generated form to check off "all info the same as last year" puleeeze?!?!).

One started 6th grade, and bopped off with her friends for her second year in a school she likes. One started high school, and I have to admit that Julie of the non-teary first days of school (Can anyone shout, "FREEDOM!" with me?) had just the tiniest little lump in her throat as she drove away from dropping her oldest girl off. (First day privilege. She'll be waiting for the bus at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow with all the other freshmen whose parents believe in building character, saving gas and the environment, and the statistics that say it's safer to rider the school bus anyway.)

I simply had a quick realization that this is child two of three to start high school, and that really makes the remaining years of my hands-on job as a parent seem short. Even more considering how easily she jumped out of the car (well, not really jumped, but she wasn't nervous at all and neither was I). I must be doing something either really right or really wrong for her to be so confident. :)

My consolation is I had my children fairly far apart (five years between 1 and 2, and four years between 2 and 3). Originally, I said it was so I'd never have two in diapers at once, but more to the point, I realized how much I'd enjoy getting to know each one of my kids individually for a pretty long period of time and that I'd be a much better mom that way. We are not all wired the same as moms. (It was also nice having older kids who could tote the stinky diapers to the garage.)

So, Kristen will be a while in coming to this day of starting high school, but I'm sure it'll be here in a flash. And she'll be the one sitting in the car, clinging to my hand, saying, "Noooo! I'm not ready!"

Or maybe she won't, and I'll shake my head again.

Now, if I could just figure out the second-year college student and exactly where my responsibilities lie in helping him become an adult, I might sleep at night. This is harder than I thought it would be.

(photo credit: macwagen, creative commons)

Are you my mother?

I got the call last night. The one every parent dreads when their children learn to drive, or go off to college, or spend the summer in their first rental house.

Well, not really a call. It's 2008; it was a text message. Four a.m. and I was sound asleep for a change. But, even when "sound" asleep, I'm still a light sleeper, which is why, I'm sure, my son sent me a message. He knew I'd hear the phone. And here was the bone-chilling, earth-shattering text conversation that followed:
(Pardon the language, or hint of such. Tough times call for tough language.)

Ryan: I just woke up to a possum crawling on my back in my bedroom. What the f?

Me: Wow. Are you ok?

Me: Are you alone?

Ryan: Yes, it just scared the mess out of me. Ben and I caught it in a laundry basket. It was small. Only like a foot long.

Me: Ok, good. Did you scream? LOL. I can't stop laughing picturing it. How did it get in, I wonder?

Ryan: I jumped up, yelled OH S&%#! Turned on the light grabbed a laundry basket and a shoe. i had him cornered and stuck. I called Ben on my cell phone in the next room.

Me: Ok. I'm going back to sleep if I can stop laughing now. Glad you're ok.

Ryan: Yeah thanks. I think I found the line between a college house and roughing it! Good night.

I have never laughed so hard at 4 a.m. in my life. Every time I started to relax and think I might be able to fall back asleep, I started again and had to grab a tissue to mop up the tears. I, personally, would never be able to fall asleep in the house again. You know, the amazing house.

(photo credit foreversouls'/creative commons license)

Kerrville, at last

I was waiting to post "the next day" until I maybe got the energy up to transfer video to my computer and upload a bit of the Kerrville performance to youtube, but ... I'm still waiting. It takes a lot of energy to do file transfers, you know.

So, until then, maybe this'll hold you:

Ryan playing at Kerrville.
I think his eyes were shut because of the sweat
rolling into them and burning. It was just a tad warm.

Check out those birkies.

Kicking back after his turn.
The outdoor theatre leads straight out the side
to the campgrounds and Texas Hill Country.

With his fellow songwriting competition winners,
from Texas A&M, UT, Texas State, and of course, UNT.
Guys in the middle are festival peoples.
Note: It appears the rolled up brown pants are part of some uniform??
The others didn't get the memo, apparently.
The other guy's were missing the holes in the backside, too.
(I forgot to make a note of the names of the other musicians. I do know the cute girl next to Ryan is HalleyAnna, and the guy with the shades is her string bass player, and they are called Starboat.)

Proud sistern. Before hippie chick transformation later that evening.
(Tie-dye dresses and airbrush tattoos.)

Next up, San Antonio. And maybe one day, video.

Extra, extra, read all about it

Just so's ya know I was telling the truth, here's the press! ;-)

Songwriters compete for festival spot (from North Texas Daily)
Arlington freshman Ryan Pickop won this year's contest and a spot to perform alongside more than 100 singer/songwriters like Ray Wylie Hubbard and Terri Hendrix in the festival. Teresa Zacharias, a Houston freshman, was runner-up. The 18-day festival is scheduled to begin May 22....

I also came across this neato article about Seeds of Change (also from NT Daily):

Denton homeless ministry serves poor with food, time
... Seeds of Change held a benefit concert at Art Six Coffee House Friday night to raise money for the shelter, which moved to a house on Fort Worth Drive last week. Nearly 100 people packed into Art Six to hear singers and songwriters Ashley Gatta, Ryan Pickop and The Fitz, while Seeds of Change founder Andrew Walsh collected donations for the shelter in a plastic biscotti jar....

Next up, NYT and USA Today ...

Well, maybe not this week.

All the dirt

Last night, Todd and I drove up to Ryan’s university (about an hour away) to hear him compete in a songwriter’s contest. We have a three-week long folk music festival down in south Texas each year in May and June (Kerrville Folk Festival, like an annual Woodstock, only maybe less drugs. :) Anyway, each year they do a Songwriters in the Universities contest at four (I think) campuses across the state, and one of the contests was at Ryan’s college this year.

So, he submitted his prerequisite CD of two songs a few months ago, and a few weeks ago was notified he was one of the top 10 finalists who got to perform tonight. Each played three songs, and the winner will get to play along with the other university winners at the Kerrville Festival. The winner also received prize money. (Which they didn’t tell ahead of time!)

WELL … MY BOY WON!!!

I am so, so proud. I think there were about 50 original entries for his school, and the announcer said Ryan was hands down the unanimous choice among all the judges, and that the hard decision was the runner up. We were all so excited. He had a big crowd of friends there cheering for him, and I told Todd on the way home that whether or not Ryan ever does another thing in his life with his music (as if), this memory will always be his shining moment. He has played at coffee shops and fundraisers, etc., for several years, but has never entered a contest.

Before we went to the competition, he showed us the ghastly unique house he will be renting with his buddies this summer and next year. Typical college boy digs. Old and saggy and nasty, nasty lovely, lovely carpet. I’m so glad I’m not in college anymore. But, *he* thinks it’s an amazing house, and that's what matters, right?.

The greatest thing about the house to Ryan is the garden in the backyard they have already started (other guys they know live there now). It’s actually one of two gardens he’s working on—there’s another behind the Catholic student center they frequent. He and his friend have been composting and learning all about organic gardening this spring, and planted up all kinds of stuff. (Hopefully, all legal. Ha.) And this is the boy who hardly touched vegetables until this year.

Last Saturday, he and the same boy arranged and emceed a “Bare Your Soles” rally around the Denton’s downtown to raise awareness about homelessness in their area, and got all kinds of businesses to donate food for the event, and entertainment, etc. The rally attendees walked around five blocks barefoot. In his own blog, Ryan said someone stopped in a car and asked if they were promoting socialism, and he answered, "No, just love."

So, his grades aren’t too spiffy this year, but you know what? He is happy, and he is already following his bliss in so many ways. And that makes me happy. It makes me cry. I can learn so many lessons from him.

If you get a hankering to listen to some winning tunes, you can listen to Ryan on his Myspace here. And I will leave you with a few more pictures from our outing! You should be able to click on each to see them bigger.

Garden at the Catholic Student Center

Ryan showing off bikes they collect and fix up for the folks at the shelter to use.

The Amazing House

Ryan chatting with Dave Stoddard after the contest. Dave won the Kerrville New Folk Award at the festival in 2005 and was one of the judges and the guest musician last night. (and that is the backside of another judge, in case you wondered! :)

Dreams can come true

Too tired to say more, but too giddy to sleep, so for now, I'll leave you with this:

So proud.

Scotch tape and glue sticks

Here's a shameless plug. My son posted new recordings of some of his songs on MySpace this weekend, and you can listen to them here. His friend Jarod, who's attending sound recording school and is also a fine musician, did the recording and he did a fantastic job.

Ryan and I definitely have our moments--you know the ones, I don't have to go into detail, do I? But, overall, he is such an amazing (almost 20-year-old) kid, and makes me so proud I could spit.

His writing skilz are impressive, in my oh-so-humble-even-if-I'm-the-mom opinion. Here are lyrics to one song--an older one, maybe two or three years, which would have made him about 16 or 17 at the time, but it remains one of my favorites. As a writer and a mom, the pictures he paints in this song make me get all teary-eyed. It's poetry.

Scotch tape and glue sticks
(This is one of the recordings, and you may listen to it here)

You see me
but it's not me, collapsing beneath my feet
I'm falling
faster and faster, picking up the speed
This takedown
spill my ashes, share me with someone new
This old town
resembles a time that I spent with someone who ...

You loved this
spot beneath the willows, buried by the sound of sea
I will miss
every chance I got to make you so angry with me
And we know that
every part of the sky is a secret
We'll show that
we'll open her up, and reveal the missing thing

The cold wind
inhibits the joints, and makes it so hard to move
We'll speak then
when voices are heard and seen, when traveling between two
It's so quiet
but the wind's indecision will fly, and we'll all change moons
So tell me
So tell me

And I don't want you to fake this
But I'm sure that I will break this
And I really want to shake this
But I'm so alone

And I'm trying to fly away
But these wings won't carry me
They were made in the first grade
When love was easy

And I'm trying to fly away
But these wings won't carry me
They were made in the first grade
When Scotch tape and glue sticks would fix everything

You see me
but it's not me, collapsing beneath my feet
I'm falling
faster and faster, picking up the speed
This takedown
spill my ashes, share me with someone new
This old town
resembles a time that I spent with someone I

Love

© Ryan Pickop

Proud ... again

You know, I'm always bragging on my kids (swan farts and all), but sometimes I just can't help it. They make me proud, and that's a fact.

Yesterday, Ryan attended a rally at UNT where Chelsea Clinton spoke. He managed to worm his way up close to the front (I wonder if he was wearing his super stealth mocassins?), and asked her what her mother intended to do about poverty and homelessness if she were elected.

He was semi-impressed by her answer, although I'm fairly sure Clinton is not his choice of candidates.

I was completely impressed by him. What was I doing at age 19? I certainly wasn't attending political rallies or questioning the candidates, and I'm sure I was more worried about what I was wearing to the next "foot function" (yeah, I went to a Baptist college. We didn't actually dance, you know) than homelessness or poverty.

That's my boy. These young people are showing us up in many ways. And people are worried about the state of our youth in America.

House of ages

A old house on a busy thoroughfare near our house was sold and became a business about the same time my son was born. It occurred to me the other day when I drove by that the little house has grown up with him, following the stages of his life, and it made me a little sentimental.

When he was a toddler and small child, it was "Chelsea's Tea Room," a shop that sold clothing and trendy supplies for kids and hosted birthday parties and tea parties. He never would have wanted to dress up and eat with his pinky crooked at one of their parties, but he went in there plenty of times in his stroller, waiting patiently while I looked around at the cute things they sold.

By the time he was old enough to be lovestruck, Chelsea's had changed locations, and a flower shop opened in its place. Just in time to create the corsages he needed for homecomings and proms, and always happy to accommodate him at the last minute, as is the habit of our family.

Now, I see it has become a tatoo and piercing parlor. He's counting the days until he has enough of his own money to get his body painted with a tiny needle. I'm not too worried about it happening any time soon, because last time I asked, he had six dollars.

What'll it be next? An insurance agency or mortgage broker? Maybe one day, a daycare center? Hopefully never a bail bondsman. :-)

I'll be watching . . . and hoping the next 19 years don't go by as quickly as the last 19.

You take my breath away

There there's my other hero. The one who literally wiggled and squirmed his way into my life a little more than 19 years ago, and challenges me each and every day.

Ryan's latest blog

I can only hope to write as well as this one day.

Kristen says ...

Gail's blog about her witty grandson Sam reminded me of "Kristen says the darnedst things"--a category I've neglected for a while. :-) Either she's getting older, or I'm getting less observant. I fear it is both. So, to that end, I will regale you of a recent tale.

You know there are two givens when you have kids. (At least.) The first is they will follow you into the bathroom and it will be at least 18 years before you have the assurance you will be able to do your business alone again. Maybe more. Anyway. The second is when you hear a suspicious noise, or silence, whichever the case may be (and often scarier in the second incarnation), and you ask, "What are you doing?" you know what the answer will be, right? Exactly. "Nothing."

Well, this morning Kristen proved one of these points, but she's wised up on the second. I was in the shower and could hear little noises coming from the other side of the (frosted) door. So, in good mom form, I said, "What are you doing?"

She said, "Just standing here. Breathing."

Dadgummit. Just when you think you've got them trained.

And just so the other two won't feel left out:

Ryan texted me the other night, very excited, from college. "Mom, I just found the Denton Piggly Wiggly!" That, my friends, is scary. He's apparently been missing his small town grocery shopping exeriences from East Texas and Alabama.

And Emilie? She is quite the wise one. She recently dumped her boyfriend of more than two years (yeah, she's 14, but I think it's easy to stay committed for two years when you only see them five minutes a day during passing periods). We were talking about it in the car and she said, "I just wasn't interested in such a serious relationship at age 14." Go, girl. And if she kills me for this, it will mysteriously disappear from this blog without warning. :-D (You may wonder, but the kids are always asking me if I'm going to blog things they say, and they almost look happy about it. Watch out, Jerry Springer.)

What would I do without my kids to make me laugh?

These are a few of my favorite things

Raindrops on roses, and whiskers on kittens,
Movies and music and Ryan with mittens ... (I mean mocassins ... lalala )
Cheeseburger tacos with onnnion strings...

1) Todd and I saw Martian Child Saturday night. I really loved it. Me and only 22% of the movie reviewer population on rottentomatoes.com. Those people. What is so wrong with a movie full of schmaltz (read: people learning to love each other)? Who freakin' cares? If it makes you happy, it must be bad, they say.

John and Joan Cusack are full 'o fun, and this was quite a serious movie, but still fun. It had some (not-so-sly) political messages that kind of cracked me up. We've come a long way since the Dixie Chicks scandal of not so many years ago. I wonder if Hollywood could have gotten away then with panning into sharp focus--not once, but twice--a picture of George W behind a school principal explaining to David (John Cusack) "We're just not equipped to handle a child as different as Dennis here in our school." Whatever your politics, it was quite an overt message, I thought. Todd gives me a hard time and says I read too much into movies or music sometimes, but I dunno ... I kind of enjoy looking for the subtle and not-so-subtle messages sent through media.

2) Annual trek to see my fav-o-rite musician, singer/songwriter David Wilcox tonight. This year, I might add, I am proud to say I recommended to Dave's manager that he try to book him at the Bend Studio, and he did. I'm positively famous now, obviously. He was supposed to play their Ft. Worth venue, but ended up doing two Dallas shows instead at a place called Rock House Films. It was a smaller setting than we've seen him in the last few years, which was cool. He sang a hysterical new song I'm absolutely sure will lead to a new nickname spoken under the breath around the house (not in front of the children, of course) at certain times when people are acting like ... well, like Captain Wanker. :-O

3) Ryan joined us for a pre-birthday celebration at the concert. We were devastated to find that Tin Star, which was only a few short blocks from Rock House, and where we were going to enjoy the best ever cheesburger tacos, was gone. It's been replaced by a restaurant called Mooyah, which sounds suspiciously like Hooyah!, one of our favorite Denton restaurants, only it serves burgers instead of burritos. What is the world coming to when Tin Star goes away from Uptown Dallas? I almost cried. Instead, we had some pretty good pizza from I Fratelli, and luckily, there are four other Tin Star locations in the Metroplex.

Ryan is making his way toward the last stretch of his first semester in college. He mentioned it's interesting that he's the only one of his friends with a job, and also the only one who always owes his friends money. What's up with that?

Anyway, we enjoyed his hole-y mocassined company to celebrate another year of Ryan, and another year of David Wilcox. He sat in awe and got real excited when Dave sang "Leave it like it is," one of his favorites. I told him I'd start calling him Kitchen Blue if he'd like, because he is definitely "a unique." (Ten bucks for the reader who can identify the movie that line comes from.)

Now when the paint jar tipped
Off of the table
You watched as it started to fall
Glass popped, shattered and splattered
And paint spray hit the wall

Bright, blue glossy enamel
Across the kitchen floor
You said, "Good God, look at that pattern
I've never seen that before"

Leave it like it is
Never mind the turpentine
Leave it like it is
Its fine

Now when the paint dried
You gave it a title
You called it "Kitchen Blue"
A white frame painted around it
And gallery lighting, too

Rich folks come over to dinner
They all want one of their own
They say "How much? Who's the artist"
And, "My what a beautiful home"

Now most folks suffer in sorrow
Thinking they're just no good
They don't match the magazine model
As close as they think they should

They live just like the "paint by numbers"
The teacher would be impressed
A life-time of follow the lines
So it's just like all of the rest

Leave it like it is
Never mind the turpentine
Leave it like it is
Its fine

Wow, this is getting way too long, and I think it's because even though the clock says it's 12:41, a few days ago, it would have been 1:41. I think I'd best be going now.

Speechless, and therefore, title-less

What do you do with an 18-year-old who thinks he is invincible, yet has a heart bigger than just about anyone you know?

My son makes me want to laugh and cry and applaud and wring his neck all at the same time. (And that's just the first four verbs I thought of....there are many more lurking behind them.)

This kid couldn't sleep last night, so at 6 this morning, he took off in his raggedy brown Goodwill shorts, a dirty white t-shirt, and his walking stick. No shoes, no i.d., nothing. He walked for three hours. Down through the middle of our larger town into the smaller one where our church and schools reside. He didn't tell me when he left or where he was going, and so by 11, I was in an absolute panic. His wallet, i.d., money, car, GUITAR (his most prized possession) were all here and his alarm had been going off for more than an hour when I went upstairs to "wake him up" and discovered all this.

An hour later, he walked in with my mother, who had driven him home from the church. He'd arrived there at 9 and slept a few hours until she was ready to come home from her volunteer work there. (And she didn't know I didn't know where he was, so didn't call and tell me...and of course the phones at the church weren't working for some reason when I called her to see if she knew where he was.)

Apparently in the course of his walk, he was stopped by a couple of the small town police officers, who questioned him, made sure he wasn't drinking (wouldn't YOU?), called in his i.d. number to be sure he wasn't wanted (thank goodness he knew the number), and then, because they couldn't think of any other reason to hold on to him, let him go on.

His answer to all this?

He wanted to know what it felt like to be homeless and wandering.

What do you do with a kid like this besides all the verbs I already mentioned?

Sometimes it's hard to be a mother.

Winding down the school year

It's been a pretty busy week between the funeral services for Martha and getting ready for Ryan's graduation and company coming in, and school ending for another year. Not much time to blog or write or even work. It's been interesting, though, as I've caught myself thinking so many times in the last several days, "This is the last time I'll..." and fill in the blank. Kind of bittersweet, yet happy.

• Last goodbyes to Martha
• Last time to go to an award ceremony for Ryan as a child. We went to the Betty Lynn Buckley High School Musical Awards last night, and although Urinetown didn't win in the actor or best musical categories, it was so much fun to see Summit and the other nominated schools perform their best scenes. They did win best set and costumes, and it was cool to see some celebrities. Lou Diamond Phillips presented the best actor awards and the kids had no idea who he was. Heh.
• Last times to take Kristen to elementary school in the mornings. I will no longer be an elementary mom, and that is so weird. I think I'll move back to the Arlington district so she can be an elementary kid for two more years. Or not.

I'm sure I'll be a blubbering idiot Saturday when Ryan walks the stage. Can't believe my baby is all growed up and about to go off to college. He marches to the beat of a different drummer...well he marches to his own drumbeat if you think about it, but I sure am proud of him.

Proud of all three kids, more than I could ever express. Kristen got up and sang with Ryan at Martha's funeral--we never imagined she'd actually do it when her aunt asked her to, but she was a little trooper. Like Todd says, she knows she's got a good thing and so when she gets up to sing, all that fear and timidity somehow melts away.

And Emilie--we'd never get anything done around here without her. She is the glue. She is the only one in the family other than Todd with the gift of organization, and the ONLY one with the gift of being on time and the gift of liking to get up in the morning! Ryan has Emilie to thank for making it to class several times this year, and I'm the mom. How weird is that? :-) She and her friend Elena, seventh graders, played in the high school solo and ensemble competition a few weeks ago, a song Elena's grandpa wrote for them, and received the highest score and the judge said they were the "highlight of his evening."

They are just all so amazing. I am humbled. As seems to happen frequently when you become a parent, I started on one subject, and finished with my kids. Thanks for listening. :-)

Resourceful little duckies

In our house, we have started a new system. When one of the girls uses the words, "blame," "fault," or "fair," their allowances get docked a dime. (Only we keep forgetting.)

They are very creative children.

Kristen and Emilie are supposed to be sorting and putting up a load of their laundry. Kristen was taking a lot of time to do hers. When we griped, she came in with a long face, bearing a sign that says, "Save the children." I'm not sure where she got it, but I think it has something to do with Ryan spending the night in the park last weekend for Invisible Children's Global Commute.

Todd said, "We are not amused."

I laughed my head off and said, "No, not for very long, anyway."

Then Kristen said, "I didn't tell myself to do it. Ryan did."

Need. Rope. Or duct tape.

As much as I love my little darlins, there are some evenings when they wear me out. Mostly the ones when they are all three home at the same time, which only happens about once or twice a year these days, and ALWAYS when Todd's out of town.

Believe no one when they say it gets easier when they grow older. Lies from the pit of hell. The problem is, they're bigger, stronger, or smellier than me now, and I can't control them.

Thappy Hanksgiving

I'm still out there...wherever there is. :) Just haven't been much in the blogging mood lately. Thought I'd post a small list of things I am thankful for, in honor of that holiday tomorrow.

1) My middle child in the living room working hard to play Fur Elise from music with left AND right hand after I showed her the basics today, and no formal lessons. What a hard worker she is.

2) My little daughter who checks in for hugs and kisses as often as possible every day.

3) My old boy and his holiday attire today for a family movie outing--a t-shirt, black polyester jeans, and a knitted scarf wrapped around his neck.

4) Heather, who successfully remembered to thaw her turkey ahead of time, and her holiday crazy husband, her Cabbage-Patch lovin' kid, and Baby D.

5) My husband, my Toddy, my best friend, who supports me in my wild and crazy midlife crises quite well...for an engineer. ;)

6) The rest of my family and friends--too numerous to mention specifically, but all as unique and inspiring as they come. Seriously.

7) Grace.

Belated Bday Musings

Well, I neglected to mention that my baby turned 18 earlier this week. For his birthday, Todd and I registered him for the draft. ;)

(We actually did, much as I was not excited about it...we browsed to the website just to see how it was done and went ahead and filled out the form while we were there. Woo hoo. Pray this war's over soon.)

Kristen and I went on a special shopping trip for bday cupcakes, but while we were at the store, decided to buy 18 items Ryan has liked to eat over the years (past OR present) and gave them to him in a big shopping bag along with a couple of lists I made (18 favorite foods, 18 favorite songs, 18 important events since he was born) and a sappy little poem I wrote. :)

The winning item in the bag was definitely the maggie-roni and cheese IN THE ORANGE BOX!!! (No Kraft Mac 'n Cheese for my thrifty Ryan Scott.) I think, however, the pickled okra and pork rinds conjured up bad memories and nightmares. Heh.

Happy Birthday to the cutest little knucklehead nerd who ever lived.

Oh, yeah, I had a birthday lately, too. Nyah. I wasn't too excited about it, but I got some cool stuff from my family and friends, as well as a surprise announcement from my little sis. She's getting married. Wow. :)

My best/funniest gift award goes to Gail for the second year in a row. I was raving on and on about a B&N gift card Teri gave me, talking about how I was going to go buy the Stephen King book on writing, and all the while a gift bag from Gail was sitting at the Jason's Deli table under my nose...containing, you guessed it, the book. How well that girl knows me.

The really pretty origami paper from my dad "for when you are sitting around doing nothing" was also pretty funny. (The inscription, not the gift.) I don't get much of that (sitting around doing nothing...I sleep when that happens), so I think I'm going to frame it! Trust me, it's frameable, as weird as that sounds.

And Prince Ryan he shall remain

Well, Ryan may "only" be a prince among men, but as my friend Gail says, "He's the king in our book ... the king of crazy cool." :) His buddy Ben got to wear the furry blue and white crown, but I was so proud of my boy in his blue plaid suit and gold lame shoes that sparkled from clear across the football field. I'll post some pics later.

(Gail, I did those spaces around the ellipses just for you.)