To hell in a handbasket

As my grandmother used to say, "this shit is going to hell in a handbasket."

Ok, she probably didn't say 'shit'.

And what does this crazy expression from the past even mean?

Regardless, my body has officially gone to hell in a handbasket.

 

I had this internal converstation with myself today:

"Hi, zit on my throat. You hurt, please go away."

That's right, my throat.

 

My hair is a mess, my nails are crappy, my skin is a ghastly shade of white and I'm breaking out like its my job. Plus I hate all my clothes and shoes.

 

If you haven't already guessed I'm celebrating one hell of a pity party over here.

I'm in a rut and they are expensive little buggers to get out of.

Effffff.

 

Welcome Spring.

You bring sunny skies, bunnies, spring/summer collections and the realization that I let myself go all winter.

 

If I could send myself a greeting card right now, it would be this one:

 

 

xo, Vicky

Wine Eyes



via

 

Simon has demanded I post this story.
 I fear that he might hack my account and do it himself if I don't, so here we go...

Have you ever gotten wine in your eyes?

I did.

It wasn't pleasant.
 

A better question would be how did I get wine in my eyes?

The answer will amaze you but there's a bit of a back story here so bear with me.
 

 I had broken a wine glass and put the broken glass in the garbage. My darling husband thought it would be hilarious to pretend to be cut by the glass while taking out the garbage. So hilarious, that he went to great lengths to make this as realistic as possible. He went down to the basement, retrieved a tube of fake blood and smeared 'blood' all over his hand.

On this particular day I was in a giggly mood and anything and everything would send me into a giggle-fit. The very moment he started screaming I happened to be taking a big gulp of my wine.

Before I continue, I must explain that it is one of Simon's life missions to catch me the moment I take a sip of a drink and make me laugh. Its one of our 'things' as a couple.
How cute.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, big sip of wine and screaming.
So apparently the sight of him covered in blood was hilarious to me so I projectile spat the wine out of my mouth in laughter and it ricocheted off my glass and hit me square in the eyes.

While I was scrambling around trying to find something to wipe my eyes with, Simon was demanding to know why I thought him cutting his hand was funny and poor little Quinn was just sitting in her highchair probably wondering why her parents are so embarrassingly weird.

End scene.

I can't make this stuff up. I wish I could.
Moral of this story = if you find yourself in a similar situation, try and aim the wine downwards and away from any glassware. Also, consider not marrying a man obsessed with making you laugh with a mouth full of wine.

Only three more days till the weekend
xo, Vicky


 

Really?!

This just happened.

 

 

I am thankful for the following:

 

1) The tear is high enough that my skirt pretty much covers it

2) It doesn't seem to be getting bigger

3) Even with this tear in my tights, I am still confident I would win best dressed in the office

 (not to brag...)

 

Another pair bites the dust.

 

xo, Vicky

Mommy fail

First of all...

YAY !!!

via

 There are some days when I just couldn't give a 'hoot'. 

Yesterday was that kind of day. Simon had class (he's working towards a Masters in Sociology) so we were rushed and I just didn't have the energy to put together an acceptable meal. 

If hotdogs are so bad for you, why do they taste so damn good?

Simon ended up eating my leftover Thai from lunch and a grilled cheese sandwich. We ran out of bread so Quinn and I had boiled hotdogs, cheese, baby carrots and orange slices. Gourmet, I know. 

Maybe I'll get my act together and make something decent tomorrow...

I was still feeling lazy after dinner so I threw on a couple animal videos on the laptop. 

It's days like this that I am thankful for YouTube and Baby Einstein.

I remember swearing that no child of mine would watch tv, especially not young, impressionable babies/toddlers. I also swore I would not feed my kids crappy food. 

How opinions change when life with kids become a reality.

For that matter, everything changes when kids enter the scene.

Like any attempt at keeping a tidy home...

I have resolved myself to the fact that my livingroom will always look like a toy tornado ripped through it.

C'est la vie.

We have a busy upcoming weekend. Tonight, Simon and I are going to my friend Heather's birthday party (cowboy/girl theme) and Saturday we are going to a Halloween party.

Here's our costumes:

Happy weekend!!!

xo Vicky