Adorable Halloween Themed Pics

 

Good Times, October.  Good Times.

Paging Doctor....

We recently saw a bright red fancy-pants Ferrari, driving with License plates which read:
DR COX 2

Question:
1. Do you think his actual last name is Cox?

2. Do you think he's a Urologist?

If the answer is 'Yes, his last name is Cox' I think that guy is probably a tool.

If the answer is Urologist... I think he may be more humorous than the average Ferrari owner.

Also- What do you think he has '2' of?

Who says.... You can't Change Your Stars??

Lights, Thats The S-Stamina Action
Ima Rock Star
Check The Crowd Reaction
Im Like Lights, Thats The S-Stamina Action
Ima Rock Star
Check The Crowd Reaction
Im Like

Hey, You's A Rock Star Baby
Up In The Buildin Makin The Club Go Crazy
Hey You's A Rock Star Baby
Thowin An Ass Like That
U Must Be A Rock Star Baby

Let's see:
Total Rock Star on Friday evening.
Beautiful girl and beautiful family, at Soldier Field on Sunday... watching a last second field goal win.
Yearly trips to Mexico.
Sun Shiney Scout rides.  New jobs, new groove... New New New.  Happy Happy Happy. 
Looks to me, like life after 40 aint too shabby.
Thanks for proving, it's never too late to re-invent yourself.  Awesome job reaching for the Stars. You have certainly landed amongst them.
Happy 42nd Birthday, Chili.

PS- Remember that moment on Friday when you stood while totally rockin out during that one song and we thought you were about to Jam Hard Core and I nearly flashed you from the extreme coolness factor??

An Owl....

is a wise and mystical creature.  With large, captivating eyes, which nearly glow and look so calmly and deeply into your soul.  A creature which appears magical, fabled and full of wisdom past their years.

Our family was gifted with our very own Owl, six years ago.  My beautiful god-daughter.  Tink's very Best Cousin Friend Forever. 

Owl is growing (and growing!) into a long-legged, gorgous little lady.  Appearing years older than her (just barely days older) cousin.  She is a protective big sister.  A brillant little Kindergartner and Tink's personal bodyguard to those (extremly frightening and dangerous) automatic flush toilets.

It has been my honor to watch little Owl grow. 

The first niece, I have been blessed to know since just hours after her arrival.  She is a reminder, of my own little cousin.  Born with the grace, wisdom and soul of an adult.

Happy 6th Birthday, dear sweet Owl.

I love you and hope you and Tink will always be so kind to one another.  You are each other's (almost) built-in twin sister friends.  The very best 'new baby' presents, we could have gifted to our nieces. I love to watch you both experience life together.

 

Toastmaster.

The Kid is really excelling at his new school.  He is joining clubs and organizations.  His first Junior High basketball game, is this week.  And this morning, he will compete in his first Speech Club contest.
He was in my room, talking a mile a minute about his excitement for the contest.  Just as he was about to leave, he said: Hey mom... were you in Speech Club when you were a kid??

Me: Yes.  For a few years in grade school and then for awhile as an adult.

The Kid (VERY smiley): Really?? You were??

Me: Yes.

The Kid (as he walked out the door): Awesome!! Mom, that's really cool!

Me (inside my head): Ummm... yeah.... it made me real real cool...

A Text Message Exchange:

Between me and Coach's BFF CT.
CT sent this to me: So I had this very vivid dream that you guys were on a reality show on MTV.  Because you had 2 do everything in the home and couldn't get Coach to do anything.  There were screen shots of you asking him to take the garbage out and it still sitting there 3 days later... there were more details concerning him doing the dishes etc... meanwhile

(Yes.  This is still one text message!)

.....we viewed the 1st show at your house.  It was me, you two, Steve, Rodney, Jen and Nick Stipanovich (random, our neighbor!) everyone was stunned at the show and super pissed at Coach.  Coach was super embarrassed and Jen and I were cracking up! The End.

I responded: We're way too old and I'm way to flat chested to be on MTV... Maybe VH1. Otherwise, most of those other details are pretty factual!!

CT: It was so random and so vivid... weird!  I have been laughing about it all day!  Coach was hilarious.... the whole thing was.
......................................................

Watch out Jersey Shore, The Situation and Karma:
Coach and forgotten Garbage Day are the next big thing. I know, I would watch the show.

What do we Think that Meant??

This morning in church I was snuggling with my little niece.  She was being sweet and I looked down at her face and said: "Joy... I like you"

She smiled back and said: "I like you too..."
She paused and monotoned: "..even your hair too"

I don't know. 
It didn't really feel like a compliment.
More like she loves me in spite of my hair. 

And now. Today. She is Six.

In my usual writing style, I would follow last year's birthday post with a melancholy meandering blog dedication to the heartbreak of watching my Smallest Baby Eva, become a miniature lady.  Possibly, I would open with "I wish I could have told myself, one year ago, to halt time.  Consume every moment, study her face her expressions." Except...

This year, I actually did just that.

It may have been the lessons learned during my brother's suffering last Fall.  Or the wisdom acquired over eleven years of mothering.  Maybe it was celebrating milestone birthdays, or the constant blinking light reading "Kindergarten".

Whatever the inspiration, this past year: I watched my Tinkerbell grow. I actively reminded myself to breathe her in.  I would walk past her, as she lost herself in movies and forced myself to STOP. Pause and kiss the top of her tiny head. (she dismissed my affection with an eye roll.) I absorbed her joy completely, as she ran towards her first ocean.

I painted her picture, across my very best memories.

 

I watched each freckle spread across her pink summer cheeks.  I snuggled at every opportunity.  I became uber aware of how Truly blessed I am, to have been granted the gift of her.
Today, is my 700th blog post on Tru Stories.
How very fitting.
This blog was created, with Tink as my inspiration. 
Certainly Coco is the Large Scale Musical Production in our home.  Center stage, with each waking breath (LiTeRallY as I typed this very sentence, Coco clipped a barrette to her nostril and I was forced to interrupt my thought, to save her.)
The Kid is our History Channel.  Each scheduled program, amazing us with new details and factual mysteries. Always constant, always brilliant.
Our Tink...?
She is our heartwarming, Rom-Com Indie winner.  A little summer-sleeper surprise hit, which quietly enraptures you from opening scene and leaves you softly smiling through tears of amused enjoyment.

This past year, Tink grew. (figuratively not necessarily physically.) She traveled.  She vacationed away from her home, her couch and her parents.  She kinda gave swim lessons a maybe try.  She performed a large jump rope show, she swam-ished in an ocean.  She joined Tball, had sleepovers, began CCD, cheered on the football field... oh, and she became a Kindergartner.  Just like that.

She retains all of her usual Tink-ness. 
The soft curve of her face has thinned.  Her tiny bottom showcased in skinny jeans, adorned with sparkles. Her curly locks now slightly more tamed and adorably long.  Still, she is exactly whom she has always been.
She continues to be completely bored with mundane polite conversation.  She has hardly bothered to learn the names of classmates.  Rarely mentions her school time activities, after quickly squeezing her tushie into her couch corner.

Except... she is surprisingly well liked.  You would have thought I was picking up Coach from school, as the other children excitedly wave Tink goodbye.  She almost (dare I say?) appears to be very sweet.  Similar to her mother: While we may not seem friendly, we are actually very kind.  Honestly, Tru Story!
But she is Tinkerbell.  Feisty.  Opinionated.  Hand on hip, boot wearing, kick her sista for fun, 'not your pretty' kind of gal. Our most obviously, proud recipient of two extremely sarcastic families' inherited gift.
As if her morning birthday picture was a premonition, with the police cruiser over her shoulder. Trouble?? Yes. Capital T. While she has only been placed on Yellow once, in her classroom (a punishment which barely warranted an unashamed shoulder shrug) she is routinely placed in Yellow, in her mother's head. Her foot stomp and icy glare are only improving with age.  Practice makes perfect.

 

Tink's eyes are angelic.  I am sincerely in awe, we were able to create such a bewitching beauty.  She is my most artistic creation.  The tiny features of her delicate little profile: perfection. Her slight, reserved smile... softly waiting for a moment, when her spontaneous and addictive giggle will light up her face and radiate the room around her.

My Tink:
You are the dream, I unknowingly dreamed of, once in a lullaby.  A fairy, created by a baby's honey sweet giggle, equal to the sound of an angel's song. You are my imagination.  Sparkle fairy dust sprinkled on a fresh winter's snow. My slow dance, in the warm afternoon sun spot. You have inspired my child-like wonder.  Thank-you, for bringing magic to my life.
I do believe in Fairies.  I do! I do!
I believe in you.  Always and forever.
Happy 6th Birthday, my girl.
 

Exactly 1 Year Ago Today.

I wrote This Post,
About my Daughter, born 5 years before.
................................................................



There are moments, as a mother, when you fall in-love with your child... all over again. Typically, a mother loves their child immediately. Unconditionally. Upon feeling them within your belly. Or the first moment you are given your baby to have and to hold. And The Evening... maybe three weeks after your baby has been welcomed into the world, when you hold her close and can actually feel your heart physically grow. Bursting to the point of heartbreak, for the grateful gladness of being her mother.
You become busy with the chaos of motherhood. Moments are blurred with the feeling of frustration, exhaustion, hands to the heavens-wondering why they just HAVE to put their hand in their poopy diaper!? But then... there is a week. A month. A morning... when you 'see' your child again. You pause to notice them. Notice how they have grown, who they are becoming. They take a first step. Tell their first joke. Magically learn how to use the remote control. And you realize:
Oh... That's right. My baby is growing up.
The over whelming, throat closing, almost painful heart burst, washes over. Nearly knocking you over. I felt myself fall in-love with Tink again, during the last month. Her unique personality, her forming relationships and her breath-catching beauty.



My Tink is an acquired taste. She is most certainly not going to make herself easy for just anyone to love. She will not 'kiss a grandmother goodbye' just because they are leaving. Or appease her uncles with a pretend laugh. She will not paint a pretty picture to make others more comfortable. Or deliver a posed smile, just to fill your photo album.
But if you have played your game real smooth, if you have grazed on the outside edge of her land without an eager desperation and she has accepted you into her world. You are Golden. Tink has proven herself a loyal friend. She adores her inner circle of family. She has a surprisingly gentle understanding and patience with her Uncle. And an unwavering devotion to her parents and grandparents. She lights up in the presence her cousins (from her rweally big boy cousins to her faborite gwirl cousins).



Tink rarely 'guess what I did in school today!' or brags about her accomplishments. Though I see her growing with a quiet wisdom. She seems to understand her world with a sensitivity. She is feeling what she is learning. She absorbs the conversations, relationships or actions of those around her. Within hours of her birth, her eyes seemed to clearly 'get' her surroundings with the calmness of an older woman.



My Tink has character, to spare. While she is certainly not the Jazz-hands Broadway sensation that is her little sista or the Award Winning Pampered Genius which encompasses the personality of her big broda.... Tink has depth.
She had perfected her eye-roll by her first birthday. Her irritated sigh could out-dramatic Elizabeth Taylor. Her petite hand seemed to naturally settle on her little hip. She has literally been called out of school 'Naked'. She dropped out of Tumbling due to an extreme lack of 'not caring to raise her arms'. Tink will comfortably ignore the person sitting next to her. She will politely and mater-of-factly discuss the flaws of your complexion or eye color... and she seriously will not take any c*@p from any one. No danks.



Tink. Is. Beautiful. She stole our family photo shoot, without effort. Her deep thinking blue eyes, the strangely calming color of a storm approaching in a warm afternoon sky. Her small, precious features which mistakenly liken a perfect China doll. The sweet line of her cheeks, may trick the unsuspecting into wanting to cup her lovely face for a kiss. (My sincere best luck to whomever would attempt that mis-step.) And her ridiculously untamed curls, which for many become even more impressive the less they are wrangled. Tink tires of 'being her Dad's pretty' but her beauty continually takes my breath away.

To my Tink:
You will always be my tiny perfectly pink doll. The very best surprise, to a woman whom typically dreads the unknown. You have changed my life. Your stubborn competitive nature will undoubtedly become a challenge. The world could always use more fairies. Thankfully, I was gifted the feistiest, tiniest, most determined fairy of them all. I lobe you Tink.
All over again.
You're still and always just too good to be Tru.
Happy 5th Birthday.

H.A.DoubleL.O.W...etc.

I don't even understand this...

How can this be a real thing?

 

Sexy Bert and Ernie? Isn't that exactly the opposite of what Bert and Ernie represent??

HashTag: Ihatehalloweencostumeshopping.
Even more than Hash tags.

1 Super Dad. Found.

As previously mentioned, Coach has been picking up the parenting slack, while I have been under the weather.  For example, helping get the girls ready for bed. Recently, during bedtime, I found Super Dad dutifully prepping the girls:

 

 

It is a school night.  You'll notice both girls are still in their clothes.  Despite the pink blankies pictured, they are tucked into our bed... not theirs.  Fairly unlikely their teeth are brushed... and take note of the way Super Dad snuggles the TV remote close.
Cute.  Lazy.  But cute.

The Hill.

Gramma and Grandpa own a portion of land, Coach has a sweet spot for.  We had originally planned to marry on top of The Hill but life detoured that plan... Tru Story.  We married in our yard, instead.  Now and then The Hill will come up in conversation.  We've joked we will one day renew our vows on The Hill (but since we can hardly plan a romantic dinner for two... renewing wedding vows is extremely unlikely.)

As life becomes more messy, exhausting and unorganized.. I've begun to fantasize about a calmer lifestyle.. The following is an example of the most Adult, our conversations get:

 

Me: I've been thinking, maybe one day we should build our dream home on The Hill. After the kids move out, build a small white cottage out there.  Simple, open floor plan.  Two bedrooms.  Easy to care for...

 

Coach: We could do that. 

 

Me: Cozy.  Big fireplace.  Comfy furniture.... How much do you think it would cost to build a small dream home out there??

Coach: Well... you'd have to run electricity, dig a well, make a lane...

Me: Blah... I mean how much would my small dream kitchen cost?? Big windows and a bar to sit at...

Me: And a nice big front porch, with rocking chairs to sit out on evenings... up on The Hill we would have a pretty view... we can get a few rifles to easily pop off the zombies...

Coach: Good Point... and a gate for the lane?

Me: Zombies don't use the lane!  Duh... Zombies will just walk up any side of The Hill.  I figure we can get an 8 ft white vinyl fence for a small portion of back yard.  That will keep the Zombies out of the back and obviously help keep the country winds to a minimum.

Coach: Obviously.

Me: Be honest.. you're the country expert: The way I see it, because we are elevated on a Hill, it would be more difficult for the mice and spiders to crawl up out of the fields..

Coach: Uhhhh... not really. We can get some cats.

Me: Yuck.  Mangy outside country cats scare me. I guess we can get Terminix...

Coach: I'm gonna need a man cave basement.

Me: I figured we would have a small one for the tornadoes and to store our supplies for The Revolution Black Out... and the grandkids can play down there.

Coach: I don't want those brats down there!  Crawling on my pool table and messing with my big screens.  I'm gonna have football parties down there.

Me: You don't have football parties... Why does it feel like your man cave is not exactly on point with the cozy couch and blankie future I envision for us?? Are you just planning on hangin down there and calling up when you need me to toss down a beer?!

Coach: Nah.. I'll have a fridge down in the cave.

Me: ... so you'll call upstairs to heat up the oven for your frozen pizzas?

Coach: No.. I'll have a small oven too.

Me: I feel like our small dream house is not the same dream in both our heads...

Coach: Don't you think you would hate living out in the Country?? Being away from town?

Me: I don't know... by then I may barely leave my home... so what does it matter? I'll just come in town a couple days a week for yoga, shopping..

Coach: But you'll still come in for dinner dates and stuff? You'll be annoyed by the drive.

Me: Ugh... more like 'annoyed with having to change into my In Town clothes...'

Coach: Your 'In Town' clothes??

Me: .. I'll have In Town clothes and Country clothes.

Coach: Are your Country clothes just your pajamas?

Me: Yep... so if people start calling up to The Barbershop, telling you that they've seen your wife wandering downtown without her In Town clothes... you'll know something's fishy.

Coach: Are you EVER leaving the house or changing out of pajamas?  Are me and the kids just gonna start buying Moomoos for you, every Christmas?  Bright lime green and stuff?

Me: Drama!  I'm not turning into the old lady from There's Something about Mary!  I'm just gonna be an old country lady with blankies, books and a small veggie garden... which will be invaluable when the food supply runs low after the Apocalypse.

Coach: Awesome. Just tell me when...

Picking Me Up.

The Blog has obviously been ignored.  Monumental moments have been unblogged: Madonna concert updates, my Dad's birthday, Coach's funny.  Typically, if the blog has been totally unmanned, the explanation is pretty obvious: I've been sick.  My counts have been low for several weeks.  My energy level is nonexistent.  I'm exhausted, irritated and frankly: Not That Funny... At least not the kind of funny, that's PG-13 Blogable.

Sick Me has less patience and more swear words.

I've been injecting shots, scheduling naps, popping vitamins and playing every available trick in my Be Healthy card game.

Thursday afternoon, I had an out-patient bone marrow biopsy.  A Just Checkin procedure to appease my Doctor's curiosity.  The 'quick-ish' biopsy hit a few bumps and did not go as smoothly as planned. My body and medical science, enjoys a back and forth dance of bizarre anomalies and shocking new unexplained surprises.

My educated Doctor actually giggled in the middle of the procedure "Cool... that's NEVER happened before!"

I sarcastically replied "I'm super cool alright..."

Just to keep you inside my head and the attitude Coach has been dealing with: Propped up on blankets, driving home, I texted Warhol an update..

Me: Final needle count for The Day: at least 9

Warhol: I feel woozy reading this.

Me: The big one was pretty painful and not very fun.

Me (20 secs later): That's what she said...

Warhol: You still got funny.

 

Saturday.  We had a wedding an hour away, with Coach's friends.  I was in a poor mood, my back was still uncomfortable.  I had no cute outfit and was sure I was sporting 'sick girl face'. 

Coach was trying to be accommodating and suggested we leave town early to buy me a new dress... ok.. fine.. whatev.  I'm still grumpy.

Department Store: I found the perfect Calvin Klein dress.  Empire waist, soft and baggy near my biopsy site.  Regular price: $174

Sale Price: $82.99 and I had a coupon!

Then it rang at the counter for $39.99 WHAT??!

With coupon total Price: $31.40

Score!  Spirits are lifted.  I'm a Shopping God.  We check into hotel.  Carrying bags... wait.. Coach, where's the toiletry bag??

Coach: What bag?

Me: The bag we ALWAYS keep our toiletries in.  The bag that YOUR Cubs hat and YOUR shoes were leaning against, lined up perfectly on our bed, packed and ready to go.. I'm noticing you are holding YOUR hat and YOUR shoes... but no toiletry bag.

Coach: uhhhhh... ummmm...

Me: You didn't bring the bag?!!

Coach (blank face): uhhhh...

 

Picture this: I had not worn a drop of make-up to the mall or done my hair, nails etc because I planned to do it after I purchased the dress.  The bag contained EVERYthing.  Make-up, toothpaste, naturally curly hair product acquired after years of careful testing, deodorant, perfume, nail polish, bags of jewelry options sorted by color for potential outfit styles. EVERYthing. Are you grasping this?

 

Coach: I'm gonna call Doc.  She can fix this.

 

Me: I don't need a nurse!! I need make-up and hairspray!!  Doc is so perfect she doesn't even use hair product!  How would calling Doc fix this??

 

By this time, Cocktail hour has begun.  Coach was ready and adorable.  I decided it made sense to run to CVS myself and purchase some items.  As I am seriously annoyed, Coach sweetly mentions "Hey... can you also grab a wedding card??" I hate him.

 

I enter CVS.  I call Flag Girl because only another Curly Haired Girl can get the drama of not having ANY product.  I'm frantically pacing the aisles.  It was like Pretty Woman when she has ALL this money and no dress.  Suddenly, I can't remember what make-up I wear.  It's like I've never purchased mascara.  I can't find lotion.  I'm unsure what brand of hairspray to try.  I'm muttering statements like: "Well at least we remembered to grab the bleepin Cubs hat for tomorrow!  Thank God we didn't forget the Cubs hat!  Now THAT would have been a real travesty!!"

 

Finally, I grab a few things, throw myself together.  Walk into the reception just as the Bride and Groom are announced on the floor. Yes.  For realz.

Coach spent the night, telling me I was the most beautiful girl and literally kissing way UP to me:

 

Conclusion: I had a very lovely evening.  I was mostly make-up/jewelry-less... my biopsy site aches pretty good. But I guess I'm lucky to have a husband willing and able to pick me up and carry me to bed, after my many doctor's appts.  Even if... he can't remember to pick up the bleepin toiletry bag (located directly underneath the Cubs hat.) Idiot.

"Spinning on that dizzy edge
I kissed her face and kissed her head
And dreamed of all the different ways I had
To make her glow"

Yoga Book Club

Tuesday, October 9th at 7:30pm will be our First Yoga Book Club Meeting!  And our first book selection is:

 

 

If you are interested in joining, we have at least 4 books For Sale at the Studio.  It is a fairly quick read... so you have plenty of time, over the chilly weekend.
You DO NOT have to attend my class to join the club.
We will be holding a Gentle Yoga class from 6:00-7:10pm prior to the meeting.  Followed with healthy snacks (and possibly wine/drinks of your own... if you'd like!) for the Book Club discussion.
Please join us. (lookin at you... Mrs.)
Our objective:
Bring a little unity and positive inspiration to our lives. 

For our next meeting, we are looking for suggestions on uplifting books, set over the holiday season. Please. Suggest. Now.  Thanks!