The Country Architect

Clay is an architect. When he leaves for work he wears beautifully pressed dress slacks and a crisp pinpoint collar shirt with a snazzy silk tie positioned perfectly in a double Windsor knot. He looks like a million bucks.

But, when he comes home, he sheds all that fancy-schmancy stuff and puts on his Country Clay. Ever since we've been doing the Damn Ramsey thing, Clay has insisted that I cut his hair. Mind you, that this is the same man that used to pay $60 on a haircut in a fine salon.....much to my annoyance.

Now, that I'm living with a man that doesn't want to spend once red cent on ANYTHING, he thinks I am the best haircut in town. A few days ago the weather was beautiful and Clay was taking a vacation day, so we headed out to the porch for a haircut and Clay made the profound statement, "Now, this is country living. Getting a haircut on the porch with three cats rubbing against my leg and a rooster tucked under a chair."

I don't think any of Clay's clients or employees would believe he gets his haircut on a porch with a rooster and three cats.

Or that he wears jeans with holes in both knees and has a dog he named Preacher.

He's the Country Bumpkin Architect, just don't tell anyone, okay?

Desperatley Seeking Susan Throws A Party

She's got the beat! And she shared it with all her friends.

And then Susan and Kramer got their groove on to My Sharona.

Can I just leave you with this little fact. One time... at church camp.... I met this girl and... for real, her name was.......Sharona. God, help me, I prayed so hard that week to keep from making fun of her.

Do you know who you look like?

When I met Clay he was at the tail end of recovering from a terrible bicycle accident. He was riding along the street and was struck from behind by a car. The person driving the car sped off and left Clay, who was then 18, lying on the road unconscious.

Thankfully his injuries were not life threatening, but his face would be forever scarred.

The flesh was torn from his cheek, eye, lip and chin on the right side of his face. The doctor's stitched him back together and he went home to recover. He couldn't eat solid foods for a couple weeks due to his swollen face. Clay quickly lost twenty pounds, and as you can imagine, he really didn't have twenty pounds to sacrifice.

The young Clay I met in drawing class was painfully skinny. He had a deep purple scar on his right cheek bone that was hard not to stare at when I was talking to him.

When goatees and sideburns became popular in the early 90's, Clay was one of the first guys to jump onto the facial hair wagon. Unfortunately, the skin on his chin and lip that had been damaged from the bicycle wreck were too new to allow whiskers to grow. So he had a rather lopsided beard and strange gap in his moustache.

As the years passed Clay regained a few of those lost pounds, the scars faded and his skin had toughened up enough to allow whiskers to sprout thick and wiry through his scars. That's when he started getting a lot of comments like, 'Do you know who you look like?' As absurd as I thought it was that anyone could possibly resemble Clay, it was hard to deny that there was a striking look of familiarity between this one guy and Clay.

Yep. Hard to deny. There is something very Clayish about Nicolas Cage.

But, honey, you are much cuter, goofier and I'm so glad you still have that scar on your lip....it's very yummy.

I've been beiroching.

In preparation for a post on beirochs....

Kitchen Conversation

Me- Who put the rags in the towel drawer? And, what is this? Who put the the dish rags in the towel drawer?!

Clay- Uh, I think that might have been me.

Me- Get in here.

Clay- No.

Me- Come here.

Clay- sigh... Okay, I'm here, what do you want?

Me- This is a dish rag it goes in this drawer. THIS is a dish TOWEL it goes in this drawer. And this is a RAG it goes in the mudroom. It is not that difficult, really. Got it?

Clay- You know that commercial where the lady holds up three different black heels and asks the guy which one looks better? And in his mind all the shoes look exactly alike?

Me- Yeah.

Clay- Well, I'm having one of those moments right now with all these rags.

And then I started choking him. But, then I remembered he is the same man that has ruined a good portion of my dish towels using them to check the oil in our vehicles. So, I pinched him really hard too.

House of Crazy

In this episode of House of Crazy we begin with Rechelle making fun of April's fall decor that she worked hours and endless hours to please the Internet. Rechelle has just made a comment on the use of April's jars filled with bananas to catch fruit flies and refers to the fall foliage as another fly trap. April responds to her sister's remarks with some highly intelligent and well thought out words. Then the cast moves quickly into another example of April's family's extreme lack of care regarding her fear of large bugs in the house. The question you will be asking at the end of this episode is, Could they be any louder or more obnoxious?

Cast and Characters

Clay-himself
Rechelle- gigantic bug crawling on the counter top or Cockroach
Ellen- her loving,beautiful, elegant, well versed, tidy and timid mother
Giant red obstacle being played by Seth's head

Yeah, but I'm not the only sissy in the house!

He can make fun of me all he wants and act all macho, but not five minutes after I took this video he was doing little ballroom pirouettes on the living room rug and saying, "I wanna be on Dancing with the Stars!" So who's the sissy now? Huh!

How An Architect Spends His Saturday

Honey?  Clay?  CLAY!!  Stop chasing the cow!  sigh.....When you're done running in the soybeans with the cow, do you think you could finish cleaning up that building mess?  Clay?  Clay?  CLAY!!!!

Hey!

Hey big sweaty man.  Are those all your kids?  I was just thinkin'.

If you weren't too busy.

If you could find the time.

Maybe we could.....

get hitched....again.  What?  No?  You look shocked?  Have we done this before?

I think you're kinda cute. And oh, so manly with your big saw there.

And I heard a rumor that we really dig the same stuff.  Like that there porch and takin' a spin on the dance floor.

And you have a nice  little caboose.  A very nice little caboose.

I promise I'll be nice.  At least for a day or two.

And I'll let you pet the chickens.  Or you could just hold them while I stick my finger up there yoohoo.

I'll let you bite my neck and drain the blood right out of me....but just this once, cuz I'm sorta busy tomorrow and I'm gonna need my strength to get the rest of those apples put up.

Whatta ya say?  Think you and your little dog could handle puttin' up with me a while longer?

You up for another 16 years?

You feelin' it?  Think we have this thing mastered yet?

Cuz, I still like you a whole lot.

Phone Conversations

Rechelle- Was she always that farty?

Me- Uh, yeah, I think so.

Rechelle- I don't remember her being that farty.

Me- You're saying farty. 

Rechelle- I know.  I like it.  Farty.

***

After this conversation Clay told me it's very difficult to talk to me on the phone when he's at his desk where other people can hear him.

Clay- Hullo.

(long pause)

Clay- How?

Clay- You couldn't get out?

Clay- Did he hurt you?

Clay- Why didn't the kids hear you screaming?

Clay- I do feel sorry for you.

Clay- Are you okay now?

Clay- No, I'm not laughing.

Clay- Bad rooster.

Clay- Bad, bad rooster.

Clay- I don't think it was the kids' fault.

Clay- Okay, okay, sorry.  

Clay- I have to go.

Clay- No....no... I do feel sorry for you.

Clay- I didn't lock you in the chicken coop.

Clay- Yes, you should go lie down.

Clay- I have to go, but it's not because I don't feel sorry for you.

Clay- Yes, you sound stricken.

Clay- The door is broken?

Clay- Is Seth fixing it?

Clay- Very bad rooster.  

Clay- I really do have to go.  But, I love you and I'm glad the rooster didn't hurt you and I know it wasn't your fault.  Because it never is......  

*****

Me- Hello.

Mom- Is this my sweet darling daughter?

Me- Hi Mom.

Mom- Your father needs to talk to you about a fund raiser for the Vurtus (which is sorta the name of my kids' school but not quite and I've given up trying to get her to pronounce it correctly.)  So here he is......HARRY!  April's on the phone!   She wants to talk to you about your bike ride!

Dad- Hello?

Me- Hi Dad.  

Dad- Hi.

Me- So, you want to talk to me about a fund raising bike ride?

Dad- Uh-huh.

Mom- Harry!  Tell her about the presentation!

Dad- What presentation?

Mom- People will want to see a presentation!

Dad- Why?  I don't want to do a presentation.  That's what April is going to do.

Me- I'm going to do a presentation?  To who?  When?  What?

Dad- I just want to ride the bike.  

Mom- You are going to have to take the bike and make the presentation!  People won't understand what you're trying to do for the Vurtus!

Dad- Martha!  You don't know the first thing about biking people!  They don't need to see a presentation!

Mom- Harry!  I'm not talking about the biking people!  I'm talking about the Vurtus people!

Dad- That's what April's going to do.  She can do that.

Me- Uh.  

Mom- You can not make April explain your biking to Vurtus!

Me- Er.

Dad- Oh for crying out loud!

Me- Okay.  I think you both have some sort of weird and obscure valid point that someone in the cosmos is going to understand, but I'm going to get off the phone now.  Good talking to you both.  Love ya.....

Mom- Oh,  well, okay Honey.  Good grief, your father is so stubborn!  Now line up those babies all in a row and give them a big hug and kiss for me. 

Summer of Pain with Coach Clay

This here's your basic Goodmornin' Stretch

Sprints

The baby begging for his big sister to hold his hand while they run the sprints.

Oldest cousin sweetly offering a hand.

Even though it made him come in last place.

Hippity Hoppity....Clay? Clay? Are you flying?

Uh, yes. I think you are flying!

Prisoner squats or what I like to call 'Gopher Butts'.

Yes, I saw that you can fly.

Spidey Crawl

Dot Drill

Hip Hop with the Dot Drill

Doo Whop with Dots

The man who wants to be the coach for every team his children are involved with. Look, he created his own team for a day. It's Clay's summer of pain camp.

Yes, she's tall 5'8". And she can outrun all those boys wearing ripped up old Rocket Dog sneakers. You go girl!

Shucka Corn

Every single time I shuck corn I am reminded of that song I Feel For You.

Shucka Corn, Shucka Corn, Shucka Corn let me rock you let me rock you Shucka Corn....

If you don't know what I'm talking about then please get off the internet and go ask your parents. And if I hear, "Um, yeah, April, it's Chaka Khan" I am going to roll my eyes back into my brain and then email you some of my sarcasm, wit and ability to recreate the words of any 80's rock song to fit the mood of the moment. It's a gift.

Anyway. I mowed down my pathetic corn. I couldn't stand the sight of it anymore. It was disgusting me. The sight of it was a constant reminder that I have a garden full of rocks. It had to go.  I failed.

As I was mowing it down Clay yelled at me, "Don't you think that's being a bit rash?! I mean look at that one stalk. It was doing really well!"

Then I mowed over him. Now my garden looks great.

Admitting to my failure I went down the road and picked sweet corn at a U-Pick farm.  

Shucka Corn, Shucka Corn

Shucka Corn let me boil you, let me boil you Shucka Corn

Oh, and one more thing about corn........

Hey!  Ramone!  Hey, Ramone!!!!  Look at my cucumber!!  It's bigger than the corn!  Have you seen my cucumbers?!  Huh?  Huh?  My cucumber can kick your corn's kerneled butt!

Burrow, Barrow, Barrel

A couple days ago Clay and I were outside working on the chicken coop.  Uh, wait.  I mean, I was watching Clay working on the chicken coop, but I did have on a pair of gloves, so I was prepared to help at a moments notice.

Then this conversation started and we spent the next three days holding our sides trying to overcome the ache from our fit of hysterics.

Me- I'm so glad Dad gave us that old wool berer.

Clay- (turning to me with wide eyes and a stupid grin)  What was that you said?  Wool berrrrrr?  Did you mean wheel barrel?

Me- No!  And it's not a wool barrel.  It's a will burrow.

Clay- Wheel barrel.  Say, wheeeeeel.

Me- Will, wool, woooool.

Clay- No wheeeee, wheeeel.

Me- I'm not saying that and it's not a barrel.  It's a barrow, like the donkey.  You know a barrow.

Clay- I think you mean burrow.  And it's a wheel barrel.  Not wool berrer.  I'll chalk it up to growing up in western Kansas.

Me- Wheel.  See?  I can say it just fine.  I just happen to have an accent, a western Kansas accent.

Clay- Or a speech impediment.

Me- Well, at least I know it's NOT a wheeeeel barrel.  Dummy.

Clay- But, it's certainly NOT a wheel burrow either.

Me- I said barrow and I think that must have come from burrow.  Right?

Clay-  You may have come from a burrow.

Me- You're hilarious.

Clay- Wish you would have thought of that one first, huh?

Me- Maybe.

Clay- (shaking his head, laughing) Wool berrer.  Oh, April, that's a good one.

Then to prove who was right we spent a few minutes googling wheel barrow and wheel barrel and guess who was more correct, despite the speech impediment?

Hey kids, go hop in your side cars!

I'm thinking about trading in our van for a moped with two side cars.  Filling up the tank for the van is sucking my wallet dry!  DRY I say!

Anyway, I think a moped would be great fun, especially if I wore a bright red costume with a cape that could flap in the wind.  Let's go to town kids, hop in!

I also told Clay he needs to start driving a moped and because we are fluent in the ancient language Sound Effect, he said.....

meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (gear shift) meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (gear shift) meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

I love you but...

you've got to stop doing this.

That's what my husband said to me yesterday when he came to rescue my sorry butt for the fourth time in six months.

Since we've moved to Utopia, I've managed to become the local Lady in Distress.  First, it was a dead battery in the Wal-Mart parking lot, a van loaded to the gills with groceries and four hot children.  I called Clay, he had to drive all the way home to get the jumper cables and then come back to town to jump the van.  The kids and I were very grateful and he was, "Okay, love you guys, I gotta run, I'm late for a meeting".  Sorry Hon.

The second time was during an Arctic wind-blast snow storm.  Same problem dead battery, but this time in the school parking lot.  I know, you would think someone would have jumper cables, uh like me, but not so much and I didn't ask around farther than the secretary, because I didn't want the people to know that I am the Lady in Distress.  Ya know?  And, why the heck don't I have jumper cables?  Why?  So, again, I call my Knight in Shining Pickup to come rescue me.  Again, he has to drive all the way home and then to school and this time before coming he said, "You're gonna have to wait til I'm done with my meeting."  Dang it, but okay. So we waited inside the school until he got there.  We were late for our homeschool group, but what's a Lady in Distress to do?  I'm at the mercy of my hero.  I'm the Lady in Distress and it's my job to be stranded in need of assistance.  I play the roll quite well.  Sorry Hon, I know it was really cold that day and you didn't have gloves on and even though I offered you mine, you toughed it out and wouldn't let me stand out in the cold just to punish myself to suffer with you.  Sorry.

The third incident was a minor infraction on my part.  I was going 55 mph in a 35 mph zone.  I swear, I didn't know.  I will admit I speed all the time, but when I saw the policeman's light behind me I thought, "Oooh, sorry, I didn't see you back there", and I pulled over to get out of his way....yeah.  But, then I noticed him stopping behind me and I'm all like, "Whaaa?"  I had no idea why he was pulling me over.  Oh, the life of the blissfully unaware and ignorant.  The officer obviously knew I was the local Lady in Distress and lowered my speed from 55 mph to 45 mph because my fine would have been astronomical, thank you Mr. Officer, sir.  But, Clay was the one who had to go to the court house the day my ticket was due and pay the $90.  He never complained, just said, "Oh, I gotta go pay your ticket tomorrow."  Sorry Hon, thanks for not making me schlep all the kids to the court house to pay my ticket.

And yesterday, oh yesterday, was my latest screw up.  I was at the grocery store and locked the keys in the van.  Gah!  Clay was in a meeting and had left his phone on his desk.  I hesitated to call him and thought of calling a locksmith, but every time one of those guys has unlocked my door they screw up the lock and it costs me 40 bucks to pay him to mess up the door and another 50 or more to fix the darn thing, believe me, I know these things.  I also thought of calling a taxi, but with three kids, myself and all our groceries, uh,no, not gonna do that.  So, I called Clay.  And I called Clay.  And I called Clay.  No answer.  Finally, his intern got concerned that Clay's phone kept ringing so she took it to Clay and said in her Russian accent, "Um, Cleey?  Is every-ting okay at ome?  Abril as called about tweeny times."  And that my friends, is why Clay's intern will forever think of me as the Woman Who Calls Her Husband Twenty Times A Day.  Lord have mercy.

After waiting for about thirty minutes with the shopping cart full of groceries outside the store, the kids and I found a bench to sit on and I rummaged through the grocery sacks to retrieve the bag of candy I bought, Thank You Jesus for that moment of weakness.  We ate candy, played twenty questions and waited.  Finally, Clay called and again, he had to go all the way home to get the spare key, because we never want to be prepared for an emergency...ever and then he had to drive back to town and unlock the van.  We were so happy to see him.  We had been at the grocery store nearly two hours, fun stuff.  That's when he looked at me and said, "Listen, I love you but.....you've got to stop doing this."  I know, sorry Hon.  As he drove off he called me.  I thought, "Ahhh, he's calling to tell me how much he loves rescuing me and that no matter how irritating I am, I'm so worth the trouble." But instead he said, "Is the van starting?"  He wanted to make sure I wasn't going to call for him to come back.  Smart man that Clay.  sniff sniff

I was feeling pretty bad this morning about how stupid I've been and how I must certainly be the most helpless wife on the planet and if my husband didn't know better he'd think I was getting myself into these situations just to spend more time with him or get attention.  Then my mom called.

Mom- Hi it's your momma.

Me- Hi Mom.

Mom- Do you have a house full of people?

Me- ??? uh, no the boys are playing outside.

Mom- Oh, well, I didn't want to bother you if you were busy.  Will it be okay if I come on Saturday, I think we need to get some things done.

Me- What?  You're coming on Saturday?  I thought you weren't coming until next week?

Mom- Well, we need to rehearse the show and make some props and ....

Me-  Mom?  Mom?  THIS IS APRIL!

Mom-  WHAT?  Oh, for crying out loud, I've called the wrong kid!  I am such a hair brain.  I have been in such a tizzy all day.

Me- Mom you just made me feel better about myself, thank you.

Sigh, see?  I come by it honestly.  It's not my fault.  It's genetic.  Right?  Right?  What?  No?  Huh?

Relations

My husband loves to annoy me.  He relishes watching my frustrations mount.  He laughs when I throw myself at him swinging my fists to inflict pain on his body.  

I live with a gigantic pain in the arse.

Here's a conversation that made my head explode.  If I could have picked him up and thrown him through the big picture window I would have, but instead I spent the rest of the day pinching him in the chest as hard as I could when his defenses were down.  Occasionally, he would say, "Ouch that really hurts!"  through his laughter but mostly he says, "Oh, April you are so fun to irritate."  Which makes me even angrier and my pinches much harder.

A- I wish I would have had a brother.

C- Yeah, me too.  Then I'd have a brother-in-law.

A- You do have a brother-in-law.  Mike.

C- No, not really.  Mike is your brother-in-law.  Not mine.

A- What?  How can he be my brother-in-law and not yours?

C- Because, he's married to your sister, not my sister.

A- That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, well at least today.  Mike is your brother-in-law!

C- No, not really.  

A- So your brother's wife isn't my sister-in-law?

C- No, she's my sister-in-law.

A- So my sister's children, are they your nephews?  Or just my nephews?

C- They're my nephews because Rechelle is my sister-in-law and they are her children.

A- Are they the illegitimate children of your sister-in-law, because her husband is not officially your brother-in-law?

C- Now, your just being silly.

A- MIKE IS YOUR BROTHER-IN-LAW!

C- I know you want him to be my brother-in-law, but technically he's only your brother-in-law.

A- Then what do you call him?

C-  Mike.  It's his name.

A- I'm going to kick you.

C- How can you not understand this?  Why are you getting so angry?  It's just the facts.

A- I'm angry because I've wasted my breath and my time having this stupid conversation with you!  Mike.  Is.  Your.  Brother-in-law.  As long as my sister is married to him he is your brother-in-law.  It's too bad that Rechelle won't have a brother-in-law much longer.

C- Why's that?

A- Because tonight when your asleep, I'm going to.....

C- Now, April, are you about to say something you're going to regret?

A- The only thing I regret is the day I said I would mar...

C- No, no, shhhhh, you are about to say something very hateful.

A- Yes, I hate...

C- Oh, come here let's have a hug.

 (this is when he grabs me and smothers my head into his chest so I can't talk or breath).

A- Ah cand breee!

C- What?  I can't hear you.

A- Ah cand bree! 

C- What?  Here stop hugging me so I can hear you.

A- I don't know why you love to torture me.

C- Because you get so mad.  It's so fun.

A- I'm going to make the rest of your days miserable.

C- Okay Honey,  you're so cute.  I love you.

A- No.

C- I love you.

A- No.

C- You love me too, don't you?

A- I'm not talking to you anymore.

C- You can't stay mad at me.  You like me too much.

And that is when my head exploded.

Elephant Droppings

Because the small details of my life are important to you. Yes they are. Yes they are. Are too. Are too, infinity!

One or both of our toilettes are clogged nearly every single day. I'm serious. This is not one of my exaggerations to make a better story......uh, I mean, I'm telling the truth here, no lie!

C- Which one of our boys put the huge turd in the toilet and clogged it up?

A- Levi

C- It looks like an elephant dropping!

A- I know. He was complaining that his back hurt while he pushed it out, but he's fine now.

C- Good, lord.

I have boys that clog the toilet with their huge elephant turds. Every. Ding. Dang. DAY!

How do I cope with this awful daily event? I ignore it. I don't acknowledge the incident, until Clay asks me if I'm aware that all the toilets are clogged. Yes, I know. Then he looks at me, furrows his brow, squints his eyes, bites his bottom lip and heads out to the barn to get the plunger.......until I suggested he might want to keep it in the basement, since, you know, he needs to use it so often.

Since I'm of no assistance in the de-clogging effort, Clay has decided to teach the parties responsible for the nuisance how to unclog the toilet. The first lesson sounded a bit like this;

"No, no you put this end of the plunger in the toilet. DON'T SWING IT AROUND! Wait, wait, don't touch anything with it!"

That's about all I could stand to hear, so I tuned out any other useful tips that I may have gained in the art of elephant turd extraction.

Today, after the latest offense Clay called to me from the kitchen.

C- April, come here.

A- No.

C- April, come here.

A- I said, NO.

C- April, come here.

A- If your making me come look at that giant turd, I'm not coming!

C- April, come here.

A- I don't want to learn how to use a plunger.

C- April, come here.

A- If this has anything to do with that toilet....I'm not doing it.

C-April, come here.

A- I'm not participating in anything that's has to do with poop!

C-April........come here.

A- sigh (realizing he's not going to give up) FINE! WHAT?




C-We're making cookies.


A-Oh.

C- What can I use instead of brown sugar?

A- Are you going to make me unclog the toilet?

C- No.

So, I gave him the sugar he could use and he made cookies with his kids. Then he unclogged the toilet....until tomorrow. And I didn't have to do a darn thing. Life is good.

Tough Old Bird

A couple conversations my husband was involved with yesterday, are blog worthy.  

Clay's boss, let's name him, Percival Knightly. is in his later 60's and walked around yesterday complaining of chest pains and a cold left arm.  Uh, heart attack maybe?  Go to the hospital maybe?  Call 911, anyone?  No, Percival, we'll call him Percy from now on, is a tough old bird and he wanted to go to a meeting with Clay and one other guy later in the afternoon.

Clay suggested a few times to Percy to sit the meeting out, he could do the presentation without him and here's an idea....go to the doctor.  But, Percy wanted to help  and said he was fine, so off they three of them went.  In the car ride to the meeting:

Other Guy- Percy have you had any tests run?

Percy- Yeah, I had an endoscopy.

Other Guy- But, what about the test that they stick the probe down your throat?

Percy- Yeah, that's the endoscopy.

Other Guy- Well, if that's the endoscopy what's the test that, you know, goes in the other end?

Percy- That's a colonoscopy.

Other Guy- Oh, I thought that was called an endoscopy, cuz you know it starts with end.

Percy- You should have been a doctor.

Before they went in the room to make their presentation Percy told Clay, "Listen, if I have to slip out (to die of a heart attack) just go on without me."

The presentation went fine and Clay offered to drive back to the office (because he wants to live and not die in a car wreck caused by his boss having a massive coronary embolism), but Percy insisted he was fine.

As they arrived in town a car in front of them veered too close to the median and then jerked over to get into the correct lane:

Percy- Gawd, did you see that car?  I bet it's a woman driver.  I'm going to catch up and see.  You guys look, I bet it's a woman.

As he sped up Clay looks at the driver and says from the back seat, "It's a Duuude."  Which causes Percy to start laughing.

Percy- Oh, did you hear Clay?  He said dude.  Oh, gawd, Clay, don't make me laugh it hurts my chest.

So, Percy clenching his chest, trying not to laugh at my doofus husband finally admits that he's going to call his doctor when he gets back to the office.  Gee, that's a great idea Percy.

Dancing Dorkwads

If you don't mind just tilting your head a bit...

I don't know why we do the things we do.  Ever since I can remember, Clay and I have performed little dance moves that we find humorous and blurt out, "Hey!  Try this." Then the other person says, "You're stupid" and stands still for about four seconds before the urge to try the stupid dance move takes over and  it's So, You Think You Can Dance....gone wrong. 

This move I created, but couldn't do it for the life of me.  You have to swish your arms and legs in the same direction as fast as you can and then change you arms to go opposite without stopping your feet.  Understand?  No?  That's okay, my brain couldn't make my arms go opposite without my feet stopping.

 

You're all trying it right now, aren't you?  You know you want to.  

Honeeee!

Dear Clay,

Look at our happy family.  We are soooo happy and content.  Oh, wait a second, you're not in this photo.  Yeah, take a goooooood long look, sweetheart.  Because that's what our family is going to look like if you don't find another camera cord thingy on your way home from work tonight!  

I love you!

Hug, pinch, Kiss, kick, Hug, push, Kiss, tickle,

April- your ever persistent wife of 15 years, 4 months, 2 weeks and 2 days........