What up wit dat?

So, today is a yucky, down kinda day. I don't feel like doing much. I was, however, just doing some housecleaning on my blog, and noticed that my beautiful, blingy award from Carol at She Lives was not showing up on my sidebar! What up wit dat? Que pasa? We can NOT have that! No! So, I had to go back into the language and figure out what was going on, but ... since I have no clue, I just went back to my email, copied the whole thing again, and repasted it. I think it's there now.

And then, I vaguely remember someone tagging me for something, and I remember thinking, I can't do it now, but I'll get to it, and then ... nada. I forgot. It's gone. Don't know who tagged me, can't remember what the tag was for. So... if you were the tagger, can you remind me what I was supposed to do? My mind has gotten lost. What up wit dat?

Lately, my life has become so hectic. Yeah, I know ... everyone's life is hectic. But summer just seems to be even MOOORE hectic. No free time. Lot's of stuff to do. Rush, rush, rush. Run, run, run. Why is summer more hectic than any other season? I mean, I can't even keep up with my blogging pals... We should be paid to blog full time. What up wit dat?

I have suddenly been inundated with SPAM mail in my blog email account. Weird, WEIRD stuff that I won't even open. In fact, I get about 15 or more spam emails a day. What up wit dat?

My husband's family came and ate dinner with us on the 4th of July. We had a lot of fun together. We had burgers (brownies), ribs (brownies), corn on the cob (brownies), tater salad (brownies), green beans (brownies), and I'm sure there was something else (brownies), but it doesn't come to mind right now. What up wit dat? (Discipline. It's what I DON'T have when a plate of warm brownies is sitting on my kitchen table.)

Today, I am feeling like I just don't care. About anything. Except, of course, the men in my life... but other than that ... baah. Just don't care. What up wit dat?

I keep trying to go to my friend's blog called Flip Flops at http://waves.typepad.com/ -- but for some reason, the page can not be found... What up wit dat? Someone PALEEZE tell me she's okay!

Yesterday, I ran to the grocery store. Twice. Oh, my achin' feet and back. And someone -- anyone -- please tell me -- why do the stinking grocery carts get funky wheels that won't let you steer the darned thing right? What up wit dat?

Last night, we were rudely kept awake by neighbors setting off illegal fireworks. Seeing that we have just received a bountiful 12" or so of rain over the past 5-ish days, I guess there is little chance of wild fires ripping through our neighborhood, but PALEEZE ... 10:30 at night? Do you know the trauma you caused my dog to have? The sleepless hours my husband (who has to wake up at 4:15 am) had to endure? The 15 minute wait I had on the "non-emergency" police line just to report you? And then, as if you knew I was parked on hold, you STOP the second the nice police lady, who assured me she understands all about keeping infants asleep while idiots light the sky with (did I mention) illegal fireworks and what sounds like CANONS tells me that she'll send a police cruiser out once she gets through the 30-some calls they have on hold? What up wit dat?

And as if fireworks weren't enough ... we get a 5-alarm thunderboomer that is so loud it shakes the house, causing my dear husband to sulk off to the "other-other" guest bedroom (because his parents are in the "other" guest bedroom) so the dog will leave.him.alone. so he can get some, if any, sleep before 4:30 rolls around.

I have bad feet. Not as in -- stinky feet -- as in -- owww, my feet are killing me, I can't take it anymore, feet. The little bones on the top of my feet hurt, hurt, hurt, and I can't bend my toes very well. And that's saying something, because I'm pretty darned flexible. Everywhere. I feel like they've been put through one of those wringer-style washing machines! I was complaining yesterday evening, and rubbing my poor feet, and I think I said something like, "Honey, I think I have arthritis in my feet." And he said ... "Maybe it's cancer." As in a snide way of saying -- "have you made an appointment with the doctor yet? I'm tired of hearing about it without you taking any action." I know, I need to see a doctor, and I've made an appointment, but ... what up wit dat? Anyway, if you have bad feet, go to The Big Trade Off and check out all the shoes mentioned in the comments for owie feet.

Blogger won't let me post any pictures. What up wit dat?

It's easier for me to go to work ... because then, I can whip right through all my blogs. I thought getting hooked up with wireless at home would help. But it doesn't. Maybe it's all the distractions at home. Maybe it's the infant trying to "eh, eh, eh, eh" reach the keyboard and push all the pretty buttons. Maybe it's because I don't have a "real keyboard and mouse" -- which ever reason you choose, it seems like I get far behind on reading all my favs ... but at work, I can breeze through them all. What up wit dat?

This morning, I was side tracked from getting my coffee by our secretary who had been out with an abscessed tooth. She was explaining to me how a tooth she had a root canal in had an abscessed infection and it caused her face to swell up like a bull frog. She went to the ER twice, and they finally sliced her gums open to drain the ... stuff ... and pulled the tooth. I guess she forgot that I just had a root canal and she was scaring the living daylights out of me. Joy. What up wit dat?

Remember reading about the fireworks, thunderstorms and husband that wakes up at 4:30 to go to work a bit above? Well, said husband stayed home today. And I was so excited, because his parents are staying at our home to watch Hunter while his daycare provider is on vacation. So, being that I'm all happy that my main man stayed home, I asked him ... "Hey! Wanna have a romantic lunch date with me?" And he said ... "We'll see." And it's now 11:30 -- MY lunch time, and he hasn't called me to make any plans... instead he's shopping at Toys R Us with his parents and my other little man. So ... What up wit DAT? Feeling kinda dissed! Kicked to the curb!

Never mind. It's now 12:00, and he just called to tell me he's got to take the van through inspection. And my son and his parents are joining us for our romantic date lunch. I love his parents. I love my son. But every now and then I want some alone time with my husband. So, I'm off to meet my family for lunch... What up wit dat?

...Pouting.