Once a Band Geek, Always . . .

What does every band geek want to know?

What is the football team doing on our marching field?

What does every band geek already know?

That it's awfully nice of the football team to schedule their game around the Band's halftime show!

I have really been embracing my inner band geek ever since Laze-E started Band Camp back in August. I have been loving every minute of it - especially since I'm not the one having to do all the hard work to put on a crowd-pleasing, awesome show. As a BandMom, I just get to sit back and enjoy what the band does best - make it worth my while to show up for a football game!

Although I love all band geeks, there is one who is my all time fave. She plays tenor sax, which happens to be my fave instrument. Yeah, yeah, I was also in The Band & played tenor sax, but I swear that had nothing to do with Laze-E's choices.

I love my band geeks, even when they won't cooperate for photo ops.

And, I love them even more when they cooperate with a little bit of attitude.

I love The Band because they are not afraid to go head-to-head with the football jocks. Football might have some heavy-hitting defense players, but The Band has 7 tubas. And, if we failed to learn anything else from American Pie, we learned to never underestimate the flute players.

This is the opening act of every home game. The Band forms two lines on the football marching field & the football team runs through while The Band plays the fight song. Granted, this ain't the way things are done in Texas, but I find it amusing.

This next picture was taken last Saturday at the Marching Band Festival. It warms my heart because it has three of my all-time favorite things:

A very sharp looking Marching Band.

Gorgeous tress with beautiful fall leaves.

A football marching field reserved only for The Band.

Carded

It happened again.

And this time I had a witness.

Man & I made a recent trip to Costco to purchase Laze-E yet another iPod. With her money. This time the new Nano. In pink.

I had a splitting headache but made the necessary trip so that my oldest blessing from heaven could have music for a very long Band Bus Trip the next day. Splitting headache, on a mission to get an iPod, at a super warehouse, late on a Friday afternoon. It's the recipe for a good time, I tell ya.

Even a headache didn't stop me from enjoying the best part of Costco: the food samples. As Man & I sashayed around the back of the store for appetizers, he found & had to have a case of Hofbrau Oktoberfest Bier. I'm all for a little German culture, so no objection from me. Although I would have preferred a Dunkel. Preferably, Winklerbrau Kupfer Spezial, straight from the middle-of-nowhere Bavaria.

Eventually, we pushed past all the other shoppers and waited to check out. Man with his bier. Me with the iPod & headache & by this time, I was ready to just go home. I zoned out for a brief moment daydreaming of Advil & the couch, but was quickly snapped back to Friday afternoon Costco reality when the cashier asked for my ID.

Not tracking her intentions, I replied:

Oh. I thought I handed you my membership card.

Nice little Asian Lady Cashier responded:

No. I need ID. You try to buy beer.

Seriously, here we go again. Not only am I plenty old enough to purchase alcoholic beverages, I look plenty old enough to do so. Since I couldn't be bother to dig through my wallet to produce proof of age, I decided to pass the buck:

Oh, the beer? I'm not buying the beer. He (I pointed to Man & smiled) is buying the beer. It's not a Dunkel, after all.

Man joined in the fun at this point, starts digging out his driver's license & asked eagerly:

You need my ID card?

The Cashier Lady frowned & waved her hand in dismissal. Then announced:

I no need your ID. You okay to buy beer.

Just few moments later, Man left Costco with his beer. I left with Laze-E's new iPod, my headache and a really bad case of the giggles.

Driving Around, It's A Hoot

If you are ever driving around out here in the 'burbs of The District, you may come across this road repeatedly:

Backlick Road? Seriously? Just when you thought the real South had the market cornered on RedNeck-isms.

Every time I pass a sign for Backlick (which is frequently because the road is long and filled with modern-day suburban goodness) I get one of two visual images in my head: othe first is of my cat licking her backside & the other is of . . . well, something that might be a Dare Double-Dog Dare at the tail-end of a fraternity keg party.

Pleasant thoughts, I know. Just thought I'd share.

Keep in mind, though, if you take the I-95 Richmond exit in the picture, drive southbound for about 10 miles & turn right, you can be at this next location lickety-split.

At first I was sophomorically amused because there was Dick's Sporting Goods Store across the street from the Hooters.

(giggle, giggle)

Then, I noticed there was a STOP sign in between.

(Bwah-ha-ha-ha-hilarious!)

Be Careful What You Ask For

For those of you who have been following me on Savvy, you know that in order to be blog-worthy, a story must possess a little pizazz. Or a lot, depending on the day. The run-of-the-mill, blah, blah, blah reports of mundane daily activities (not that there are many around the Haus in the first place) just don't inspire me to write in complete (& often run-on) sentences.

That's why I was a bit surprised when my favorite 17 year old friend Ya-Ya (Hi Olivia!) requested to be a guest star on the blog. Seriously? Did your mother let you read Tampon Woman? Public humiliation around here knows no limit.

But, she asked so nicely (pretty please with a cherry on top) & she did fly all the way from Alamo City to the Haus for a quick visit, so how could I possibly refuse?

I was planning on a very rare & vanilla blog publication. This is Ya-Ya. She is normal. So are her parents to the best of my knowledge (Hi Dave & Jenn). They came to visit. Ya-Ya attended Summer Seminar at the Naval Academy where all the eye candy in uniform just about gave me perimenopausal hot flashes. They flew back to Texas. The End.

As it turned out, these bland thoughts were absolutely unnecessary. All the adults (who should have known better) agreed that we would all pile into the Pilot for a road trip out to Annapolis to drop Ya-Ya off at the campus.

I know. I know.

But, if you knowingly & willingly agree to go on a Rockin'Bauer RoadTrip (no matter how short) you almost deserve any drama that comes your way. Once I realized my normal friends were riding with us, I whipped out the camera to document. To document what . . . I wasn't quite sure, but I knew it would be something. We don't call me HausFrau for nothing.

This is Ya-Ya, JayCee & DeeCee (& MiniMe)
right before we all squeezed into the ManMobile & headed out to Annapolis.

And, this is MiniMe about 15-20 minutes into our trip & just across the state line. Yep, she's feeling pukey & we are using to plastic bag from the ManMobile owner's manual just in case. Man frantically looks for a place to pull over because . . . well, we've done this before & it ain't pretty.

Soon Man (with DeeCee as co-pilot) find this exit off the Capitol Beltway. We take it and begin the search for some nice place to either vomit or suck up some fresh air and push past the nausea.

Note that the exit is numbered 13. Yeah, someone should have been paying attention to that wee bit of visual foreshadowing. Also make a big, fat note that if you ever need to vomit or suck air while in the national capitol area, drive as fast & far as you can away from this exit. And let me tell you why . . .

Because this was this best place we found for dealing with carsickness. And, this is a dirty port-a-potty at a Shell station. Which anyone of the female persuasion would no doubt refuse to use. Even for puking. Notice that we were aiming for the grass.

I'm not sure who snapped this picture (perhaps Ya-Ya who had to be regretting her blog request by now) but while this picture was being taken . . .

Are you ready for this?

An undercover police officer came out of undercoverness & flashed his badge at Man & JayCee. According to my best second-hand sources of info, the conservation went something like this:

Police Officer: Uh, do you people know where you are?

JayCee: Sure, we have the GPS. Just taking a little pit stop because the little one was carsick.

Police Officer: Uh, no. You obviously don't know where you are. You need to get into the rather expensive, new looking, totally middle class SUV and get out of here. Now. And, take your 4 cell phones, 2 Blackberries, GPS, 2 iPods and Leapster with you. You are a carjacking, theft and God-only-knows-what-else just waiting to happen.

JayCee: But the little one needs to vomit.

Police Officer: Let her throw up in the vehicle. It's better that way.

Man: Uh, Savvy, we are leaving. Now.

Me: But . . .

Man, JayCee, DeeCee & Police Officer: NOW!

Yep, it happened just like that. Apparently, "just across the state line" means that you are no longer in the most affluent county in the USA & even if you stop outside the major city loop, you need to beware.

Who knew?

In Texas, if you pull over outside the loop, you are usually good to go. You might encounter few RedNecks, but they are mostly harmless.

But, guess what? Maryland isn't Texas. And, we now have a new HausRule: We don't stop in Maryland for anything. Ever. Need to pee? Go in the car seat. It's better that way! Hungry? You won't starve before Virginia. Feeling nauseous? Too bad . . .










Hey JayCee, I knew I said that I would delete these awful pictures that MiniMe snapped of us (honestly, that child could probably make Zach Efron look like a dork!) but I did fuzz out some of the reality & left only what I consider to be our opinion of what I am now calling OPERATION: It's Better to Vomit in the Car.

We did eventually make it to the Academy & you can see the shear joy on Ya-Ya's face. I'm not sure if it was the excitement of seeing all the Hotties in Uniform or extreme gratefulness that she actually arrived in one piece. Praise God! Hallelujah! Either way, Ya-Ya, you rock & this publication is dedicated to you!

DeeCee & JayCee seem to also be happy to have survived the pit stop at Exit #13.

As for us Rockin'Bauers, it was just another blah, blah, blah, vanilla, happens everyday, run-of-the-mill adventure. DeeCee snapped this picture of us for the family history books. Hey y'all, remember that time when . . . ?

I couldn't help but notice that the picture is framed so that the torpedo is aiming straight for my head. Yep, all continues to be Savvy in my world. It's what I do best.

Making the Grade

Below is the sad, sad tale of how a HausFrau got a B on an anatomy test.

OK, fine, you know it was me. As I hang my head in shame, I confess that I got an 88 (a flippin' B) on my Joints & Muscles test last week. Can you believe it? Me neither & I'm still a little miffed.

It all started with a simple email distributed to all students enrolled for the summer at the local community college. The message simply stated that the visitor parking garage would be closed for the day. I made a mental note to be on the look-out for an alternative parking solution, perhaps I could locate metered parking somewhere. It's not like I have a decal like a real student - I'm only there to have adult supervision while I take on-line tests, least I cheat and actually manange to pull off an A.

After spending a leisurely morning & part of the afternoon at the pool with the kids, cramming for the test, I decided to just bite the bullet and head on over to the college. It was just an exam during the summer, so I didn't spend too much time in front of the mirror before leaving the Haus. Tank top from the pool, hair in a clippie, capris, lip gloss & flip flops on the way out the door. Oh, and my pop-of-color magenta handbag that I bought from the thrift store for $6.99.

As I arrived at the campus armed with extreme knowledge of ligaments, synovial fluid & microscopic muscle structure, I noticed that indeed the parking garage was closed as promised. Blocked off with yellow crime-scene-ish type of tape. As a matter of fact, several large parking lots & walking areas were blocked off with the yellow tape. And, both an ambulance & firetruck were positioned for a quick response. To whatever.

I think to myself, "Oh, this must be an emergency preparedness type of exercise. You know, community college as the local shelter in the event of . . . well, you name it, this is DC, after all."

After driving around for a bit, it became apparent that the only place I could park was in "Decal Only" parking, violators will be fined. Heavily. So, I parked with the intention of approaching the first official looking person - perhaps that campus security officer standing over by the firetruck - and inquire about my legal parking options.

As I sashayed across the parking lot - totally looking like a HausFrau in Flip Flops with a thrift store purse off to take a test for a class she shouldn't have to be taking in the first place - I noticed that I am beginning to feel way under dressed. Way.

Hmmmm.

Pantyhose & suits?

Neckties?

Hello? This is summer school at the community college. I might never not always fit in. For example, I am older than everyone else, I've got that suburban HausFrau look going on that not everyone can pull off, I don't wear a head scarf & English is my native language. And, I don't need a math placement test thankyouverymuch.

As I meander, I again think to myself, "Oh, I guess that dude in the black suit with the black-out shades standing by the big black SUV with black-out tint doesn't look like campus security now that I am closer."

I must admit, I was beginning to think the Secret Service had that place locked down. Tight.

Deciding to risk a parking fine in the name of higher education, I chose not to bother the man in black - or his amigo, the other man in black standing by the firetruck - & I attempted to work my way through the maze of yellow tape, heading for the testing center in Building CG. Guess what. The oodles & oodles of yellow tape were way more clever than this HausFrau & I could not figure out how to get from point A to point B. Since all the official people looked scary & unfriendly in a military police sort of way, I found a friendly looking real college student to help me.

She was young, definitely not a HausFrau in Flip Flops, & she used her English as a Second Language to explain that . . .

Obama was in the Haus. Building CG to be specific & there was no way the Secret Service was letting any uninvited HausFrauen past the yellow tape.

Not even to take a stupid Anatomy & Fizz test.

Seriously friends, I was thisclose to marching up to the Secret Service to ask about parking options at the community college.

In flip flops.

And, I was thisclose to snapping a picture of the POTUS, or at least putting a full-on effort into doing so. Except for my camera was sans memory stick. By the time I ran back home to fetch it & returned, all the hoopla at the campus had cleared away. Sigh.

Eventually & without further obstructions, I flip-flopped over to Building CG & incorrectly answered one too many questions for an A. Sadly for me, not quite an A means a big, fat B.

While I take responsibility for my part of this dismal grade - like maybe the few incorrect answers that landed me with a possible 90 - which is an A, I would like to personally thank the following people for distracting me & consequently causing me to miss that one extra question & make this B a reality:

First, the person responsible for sending the email that the parking garage would be closed. While it was nice to have that information ahead of time, you could have mentioned the reason for the closure and suggest alternative test dates/times.

Then, the Democrats for the Stimulus Package which I am sure is one of the reasons that necessitated a POTUS trip to the local community college.

Next, all the "visitors" in pantyhose & neckties who made me feel under dressed & inadequate. Even though my handbag was way more rockin' than any of those standard-issue-business-office-black ones.

And, finally the head honcho Secret Service guy for staring at me from behind his black-out shades. I know he was looking. He was also probably requesting back-up from other agents pre-positioned on the roof of the parking garage. Hey, Herb, heads up. Coming up on your nine-o'clock. HausFrau in Flip Flops. Earl, got a visual? JoeBob, can you run the plates on that illegally parked SUV. Blue Pilot, Virginia tags. JoeBob! JoeBob! She is carrying! I repeat, she's carrying! Earl, got a visual? Roger that. Phew! It's just a red purse. Herb, keep an eye on her. She looks a little shifty & out of place around here. OK, fine, Earl, it's magenta, not red, what are you? The fashion police? Just keep an eye on her, OK? Over & out.

Noteworthy

Yesterday, I was rockin' to C&W music in the car on the way to Walmart. Yep, I'm completely aware of the image that I portray, but don't care. I've given up on fitting in with the locals - it's just not worth the Prozac toxicity it would take to alter the savvy right out of me.

Anyway, I heard a new-to-me song. The song itself wasn't anything to write home about, but the chorus . . .

God is Great. Beer is Good. And, People are Crazy.

It really spoke to me.

On a level that says, Hey, Savvy, that explains about 95% of life's events.

Once again, Nashville nailed it.

B All That You Can B

As you all know, we upped & moved to Northern Virginia earlier this year. What you may not know is that most of the time I either feel as out of place as the HillBillies in Beverly.

Or, atheist at a pentecostal tent revival.

I won't go into long drawn out examples of how a little hair color & make-up would go a long ways out here in the 'burbs. Nor will I complain too much about living in an ultra-conservative neighborhood.

Yes, MiniMe watches Hannah Montana & SpongeBob (totally hanging my head in shame). Let me tell ya folks, that puts me smack-dab at the bottom of the neighborhood Bad Parent Heap.

Perhaps it's because I allowed Laze-E to watch PG-13 movies before she actually turned 13 that her report card showed up today looking like a big hive of buzzing bees.

Actually, she did have one lone A.

In PE, of all things. Which is a marked improvement over the Big Fat F that she managed last year. I suppose I should celebrate even the small victories that come along, right?

Perhaps, Laze-E's report card would have been her usual mix of A's & B's if the standards around here were typical of the rest of the world. But, no. We live in the Land of the Six-Point Grading System.

Want an A?

Better get a 94 or higher.

Sorry Sweetie, advanced courses don't count extra.

That's right, my child didn't stand a chance. The 92.8 that she managed in Honors English showed up on her report card as a B+.

Remember, we aren't from around these parts & we watch whatever comes on Disney or Nick without regard to appropriateness or obvious educational benefits. So, when we are happy with a such a grade, it just underscores our mediocrity.

We (read: Laze-E) might not be pulling down straight A's around here, but we (read: me & my savvy readers) are laughing hysterically at this week's winner of

HausFrau's Situational Irony Award.

Laze-E had Career Day at school today & came home all bummed out that she didn't get into the Papa John's seminar. Not because flinging dough is her career ambition, but they were offering free pizza for the participants.

Did you catch that? Our so-fiss-to-cated neighbors & their brilliant kids learned all about a career at a cookie-cutter, national chain pizza joint.

Can I get a big belly laugh from anyone?

I don't know about you, but where I come from (howdy to all my amigos down in the LoneStar state!), we might give you more opportunity to bring home an A (like 89.5-100 if HausFrau is your teacher), making it less prestigious. But, we know how to round up doctors, lawyers & military servicemembers to show up for Career Day.

Of course, we can also round up a few rednecks & topless waitresses. I guess it depends on exactly what kind of career day you want to have.

And, what student population you wish to target.

Yep, my friends. This is Savvy's Dad. His cover story is that he was in a drama production for a community fundraiser. He was the gay cowboy.

Because that's realistic for Texas . . .

I don't know if I am buying that story. I tend to believe it was Career Day at some nameless high school west of Ft. Worth.

Before & After

Has this ever happened to you?

You wake up on Moving Day and BoInG off the air mattress on the floor. You are tingly from head to toes with anticipation of what's to come. All worldly possessions will finally be returned to you after their Trans-Atlantic voyage.

It's like Christmas in February.

Or whatever month Uncle Sam chooses.

You may think to yourself,

Oooooohhhh! The king sized pillow top mattress . . .

Goody-goody-gosh! Can't wait for the rest of the kitchen gadgets . . .

Oh, boy! The real TV . . .

Of course, you've jumped ahead of yourself a bit & have envisioned all of that (& more, lots & lots more) in your new Haus. Perfectly clean & properly placed.

You are snapped back to reality when you hear the semi-truck outside your new residence.

MoverDudes ding-dong the door bell & announce (Hopefully in English. But you can deal with whatever they toss your way. Keep thinking of the prize . . . those 800 thread count sheets are out there somewhere.) that they are here with the first truck. They'll bring the other 7 crates after these are downloaded.

Wha . . . huh?

You mean there's more?

Guess it's a good thing you had that second bowl of Frosted Flakes this morning. You toss your Man the bingo sheet to track the inventory. You threaten your children with no TV for a whole week - that's right, not just any ol' TV, I'm talking Disney & Nick - if they dare peek out of the basement.

You stand akimbo, a determined look on your face, ready to direct box traffic & finish off this PCS pronto.

And, just after crate "Rockin'Bauer #8 out of 16" gets dumped on your front lawn, You may think to yourself . . . Oh. My. Goodness! This is barely half! But, you'll suck down another big glass of iced tea & deal.

Yeah, I know. You are a military wife. You do this all the time.

You are also a HausFrau. Go work the magic, girl. It's what you do best.

See? That wasn't so bad was it?

Except for the fact that the MirrorHangingFairy has failed to make an appearance, the downstairs is looking rather dashing.

Especially, if dashing can be defined by many, many second hand items displayed in every nook & cranny. By the way friends, if you happen to see anything that you might recognize, you probably do. I most likely bought your stuff at SubourbonHausFrau's Boutique and am attempting to pass it off as antique, unique, European, exotic &/or expensive.

Speaking of second hand . . . the dining room table with its double-pedestal & 6 chairs is now ours thanks to a mere $500 & a bit of luck with Craig List. Like the sheer curtains? 10 bucks at the thrift shop.

Not the best-ever kitchen, not the worst.

Not the cleanest either. But, while I was not cleaning the kitchen last night, I did manage to win $5 at Bunco.

In the picture below, if you make squinty eyes & look from left to right, you can see into the dining room, kitchen, past the entryway & into the office. And, you'll notice the "before" picture on our TV.

Yep, that's right. HGTV. On my TV! How fun is that?

Like our new sofa? I managed to get the guy who sold us the dining table to give up his couch too, for $200. He also parted with the mirror over the mantle. For free.

Lucky for him, I didn't see anything else in his condo that I wanted before I was escorted from the premises.

What about the bedrooms, you might ask? Well, let's just say that I chose to goof off on the computer instead of making beds, dusting dressers and vacuuming floors.

Surely, that's happened to you before. Like now?

Marine One

Guess where we went today.

Guess what came flying right over our heads.

Guess who was onboard.

Guess how fun that was.

Got ID?

Fourteen is the big number for today.

Nope.

That's not the final count on the ManBoxes, but I did tag at least that many boxes in the basement yesterday.

Today is Laze-E's 14th birthday. She's not really excited about 14 but by the fact that it could be legally possible for her to drive in 24 months.

I keep telling her legally doesn't mean reality.

Thankfully, she wasn't informing me she could legally drink in only seven years. So, I must be doing something right in this parenting game called motherhood.

Anyway, I was at our local Walmart picking up a few household supplies & party stuff for tomorrow night. I could go off on a tangent about how there are no SuperWalmarts around these parts, but I'll say that whine for a later date.

So, here I am at a regular Walmart at the check-out line getting all my purchases rung up by a lady who looked way older than me. Granted, she could be way younger than my assumption & I know this because I've been watching more than my fair share of 10 Years Younger on TLC daytime.

All of my items were scanning quite nicely . . . beep . . . beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

BUZZ!

CashierLady looked at the 4-pack of individual screw top bottles of Merlot quizzically.

And, then looked at me.

Then looked at me again with squinty eyes, totally scrutinizing my every sign of aging.

I remained all smug while I stared her down. Yes ma'am, I just colored my roots, I've been staying out of the sun, I'm a sunscreen/moisturizer wearing fool, microderm abrasion is my new best friend & I do not believe you will find any mom jeans on this fine behind.

I really thought that she was going to let me off with a warning, but noooooo! She asked to see some sort of identification.

Seriously, friends, this is not flattery. If I was to split into two people, one would be old enough to drink & the other old enough to drive. This was just a cashier being a pain in the butt.

After 3 minutes of digging around in my wallet, I did manage to produce a Texas driver's license with proof of age. There! Take that! And, give me the Merlot, thankyouverymuch!

After being overly interested in my birth month (I guess anyone born in December is good to go on the vino) CashierLady hands over the Merlot & other items I have purchased.

Like whole wheat, whole grain bread.

And, heart healthy buttery flavored spread.

And, laxatives.

Yeah, I know. Even sans crows feet, age spots & gray hairs my shopping cart should have served as a big fat clue that I am not a member of the under 20 crowd.

Had I have been purchasing Cheetos, Skittles & berry flavored wine coolers CashierLady may have been on a legitimate expedition to uphold the law.

At what point does being carded cease to be charming & become a joke? Personally, I think that age is about 30.

Do you think cashiers card Oma coming through the line in her motorized scooter when she purchases Fix-a-Dent, Depends, Metamucil & a box of White Zin? Probably.

Does an AARP card serve as proper identification? Who knows?

But, I can tell you one thing. Laze-E probably could have been in & out of there in 2 minutes flat with wine coolers and without getting carded.

Willkommen zum Schloss Rockin'Bauer

Welcome to new our Haus. Just wait until my household goods show up, then it will most certainly be Schloss Rockin'Bauer. Right now, spacious & cavernous are good descriptors. My car is here & has Virginia tags. One vehicle down, one to go. Can the ship be any slower?

Here's the entryway looking into the kitchen. Laze-E just got home from school & that's her stuff dumped on the floor. Like, where else was she supposed to put it?!

This is a picture looking into the living area/den/family room - whatever you want to call it. My "living room" stuff will go in here. And, I'm putting all my office stuff in the "formal" living room. I'm so not a parlor & crumpets kind of gal.

And, here's the kichen. To you it may look like an ordinary American kitchen. To me, it's big & roomy, the appliances are huge and I can certainly work the Schnitzel magic here.

Here's the basement. My plan is for it to be the catchall for everything I don't want to look at all the time. Kinder included. Don't you love the outdated & ugly green trim? My personal fav is the lawn chairs. How redneck. The only saving grace is that nothing has been duct taped.

I totally heart the porch & deck. My vision is have to the Rockin'est Biergarten (okay, Weingarten might be a better name) ever! Complete with a little fiesta multi-colored lights to add that special Texas flare. Just wait until you see the wine barrell I scored in Belgium.

Here's MiniMe posing on the deck overlooking the backyard.

And, here's the hot tub. Actually, it was a cold tub in this picture, but MiniMe didn't care.

Party. My Haus. Invitation is always open. Call me.

SpendThrifty

I've recently alluded to the fact that I really do not like to shop. It's not the shopping itself that grates on my last nerve and exhausts me. But, I do not like crowds & I hate wandering around not knowing where anything is, not being familiar with the vast product selection here in the US & I really don't care to shop with my youngest. I'm also not a fan of retail prices.

I made a recent trip to the Double Decker Target (MiniMe made the observation that the "O" in Target is silent. That's not an "O" SweetPea, it a "target" symbol, but great job with those foniks.) In the picture below, I am exercising utmost patience. MiniMe doesn't want to be shopping and I don't really want to be shopping with her. I let her snap random pictures and run down the camera battery in an attempt to buy just enough peace and quiet to locate gender-neutral Valentines for her class.

And this is me just one "But, I'm tired! I wanna go home now! This is taking too long!" short of going momicidal on her. By the way, it helps reduce stress to pose for the camera & will momentarily distract small children.

Motherhood can be so attractive, huh?

And, here is a recent shopping trip of the divine kind. East Coast's LARGEST Thrift Shop & I went there all by my lonesome. My favorite thrift shop is still SubourbonHausFrau's Boutique in Brussels, but this one makes a decent substitution. The picture below is only showing part of the store.

Of course, it took me 90 minutes to look through most of the store, but I did score a few bargains. See why I need a job? I could go broke saving money in a place like this!

Random Thoughts

The parking spaces at IKEA are really roomy.

Potomac Mills Outlet Mall is really huge, but I purchased nothing.

Thankfully, there was a car in front of me. Otherwise, I would not have remembered to stop for the school bus.

I keep forgetting I can make a right turn on a red light.

But, I do keep slowing down and yielding right at every intersection. It totally annoys the locals.

There is large fridge in the basement that I've yet to use.

My upright freezer that was in storage is completely empty. I keep thinking how handy extra cold-storage would be for all my overseas friends.

The "Convenience Station" in the ladies' room was stocked with Tampons, Tylenol & Tattoos. What else could a PMS victim ever need?!

I really like all the corny daytime estrogen shows on TLC.

I think military Brats are the best kids ever. Ok, some of them are straight-up juvenile deliquents, but the good ones are worth their weight in gold. Their moms are awesome too!

I think I need to find some kind of job.

I do not want to teach anything to anybody.

I need to go back to school, but I'm not sure if I can make it happen until Texas.

I don't know who likes the in-the-door ice & water more: Me or MiniMe.

I am totally annoyed with TV & radio commercials. Especially the ones that repeat every 15 minutes. Or less.

$148 is outrageously expensive for the 2 minutes it took to open the locked door. But, I paid it. What else can you do when the moving truck is there & all doors are locked? I know, I know. Any one of the movers probably possessed the ability to B&E my house in about 10 seconds flat, but no one was admitting to squat. Or volunteered their services.

Our household goods are still at sea, but I am really ready for them to get here.

Traffic here is not as bad as I had expected.

I forgot how quickly I can knock out a week's worth of laundry.

I do not understand why the Ft. Belvoir commissary is bigger & has more selection than the Ramstein one. Overseas patrons (who can't run down the road to: Target, Walmart, Giant, Safeway, Costco, Trader Joe's, Etc.) need bigger facilities & more choices. Why is it the opposite?

Who knew my own personal hot tub could be so much fun?

I really like my new swimsuits. I had to order from Land's End because they actually make freak-of-nautre sizes. It was really cool that they just showed up on my front door step!

I'm amused with how chatty some of you can be on the comments.

I am ready for the Pilot to get here. It will save me about 2.5 hours of chauffeuring every day.

Two fold-out recling lawn chairs make for living room furniture.

I do not joke about double decker Targets!

Tu Cute

My heartfelt apologies go out to all my Europe friends on Facebook who had to endure my whining about the incredible amount of selection around here for any kind of shopping. Right now, any shopping trip for me is overwhelming, takes me forever & I don't get 1/2 the stuff I set out to purchase. It's a combination of not finding exactly what I'm looking for, price comparing & just taking too darn long to look at everything.

Give me a break, people! We've been overseas for 5 1/2 out of the last 8 years & I am waaayy out of practice.

Anyway, I did find a Michael's & a semi-decent Walmart & easily found the materials to make a really cute Valentine tutu for MiniMe. I know. There are hundreds of other things PCS-related that I should have been doing, but I chose to play with tulle & ribbon instead.

It was totally worth my time, because look how adorable this turned out:

My next tutu will have some kind of purple. Just because. And, tomorrow, I'm making a run to IKEA. Wish me luck!

Across the Pond

Last Saturday, we started here.

What?!

Why?! Especially when there were 3 perfectly fine toliets in the same loo.

Then we boarded this:

Eventually, we arrived in DC.




Hello, Target! I was there 30 minutes before I realized it was a double decker.

And, so begins the culture shock.