Monthly Archives: April 2012

We. Must. WIN.

You guys, no one should subject themselves to this kind of humiliation without WINNING. Have you seen the video? More importantly, have you “liked” the video? If you have no idea what I’m talking about, let me set the scene. It started with this DLV Best Bad Idea:

Enter a catwoman suit, a blue man suit, a derby girl outfit, the freakin’ rocking-est afro you’ve ever seen, and four crazy friends – none of whom can sing. TA DA!  We have ourselves a hilarious video.

Why? Because we want to win four front row tickets to Kelly Clarkson AND meet her. WE MUST WIN. This video will haunt us the rest of our lives so we’d like to actually have something to show for the humiliation it’s caused.

Here’s the deal – Facebook is weird. The best (only) was to “like” and share the video and have it count toward the contest is to use the exact link listed below. Please click on it, like it, and then either share this blog or cut and paste this exact link and share it via Facebook, Twitter, email, WHATEVER.

Here’s the video:

Funny, right? Embarrassing? A little unfortunate, but you know you wished you had crazy friends who would throw their pride (and professional reputation) out the window to participate in something like this. We attracted quite a crowd while filming…

The contest ends tomorrow (Saturday) midday and we are trailing behind the leaders by quite a bit. You guys, we need people to be voting their faces right off. Nobody should have to put themselves through this humiliation without winning. And you KNOW that if (ahem…..when) we get the chance to meet Kelly Clarkson, we’ll do something embarrassing and outrageous there too. So you’re insuring future entertainment for yourself.

So please, “like” the video, and then share the link as if your life depends on it. You will receive my undying gratitude and truckloads of good karma in return. And I will vote for whatever stupid contest you enter in the future. THANK YOU!

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Filed under Best Bad Ideas, Wenatchee

31 Months, BIRD

Dear Roper,

What’s up, BIRD?

That’s what you like to say instead of “What’s up, dog?” And then you giggle hysterically. If it gets a chuckle out of us, you’ll keep going with “What’s up, COW?” and “What’s up, KITTY?” and then laugh until you snort.

When your dad and I hug, you come racing into the room with your one arm pumping (it’s a signature run, I’m not sure why you only use one arm. Style, maybe?) and shout, “Here comes the peanut butter!!” and squeeze in-between us so you can be the best part of an already good sandwich.

You constantly crack us up. You’ve picked up a few oddities from your dad like using the word “Gandhi” instead of “gone.”  So when you finish eating your apple, you exclaim, “My apple’s Gandhi!”

Your enthusiasm is tough to beat. When you play with your motorcycles, your commentary gets increasingly louder. “I’m riding a motorcycle, dude. Yeah, dude!! A MOTORCYCLE, DUDE. YEEAAAHH!” and then the whole town is suddenly aware that you’re playing with your motorcycles.

Speaking of shrieking…..were we not speaking of shrieking? It’s hard for me to tell, because my ears are still ringing from The Target Incident. I had to leave my cart in Target and haul you out of there, screaming at the top of your lungs, pinwheeling your arms, kicking and head-butting me, and knocking things off the shelf. To make matters worse, you biked to the store so I had to carry you – not unlike trying to hold a bobcat who just had a leg cut off with a chainsaw – AND your bike. Funsies!

Dear patrons and store staff, glaring at me doesn’t really help the situation Mainly because I can’t see you with all the sweat (mine), thumbs (Roper’s) and tears (both) in my eyes. Save your hate for the parent who let their kid terrorize the store by bike.

Oh wait, that was me. NEVERMIND.

Luckily, we survived. And at your core, you’re a sweet, sweet boy. You talk about flowers being beautiful with a reverent tone, you hug me with all your might and you make out with your stuffed animals with unrivaled passion. Actually, that last part is a little conflicting for me. It’s adorable, but also a tad disturbing.

You’re tough. The other night, you and your dad were up at the property working on the dirt bike. When you got home, your dad said something about you complaining that your finger hurt and that it needed kissed. I took a look at your fingers and two of them were burnt and blistered down their entire length. You had, at some point, put your hand against the work light (ouch!) but you were too busy playing to mention it until you got in the car.

I kissed those cute little fingers and we haven’t heard a peep out of you since. Aside from an occasional request for new camo bandages. Because those are awesome.

Little Bear, we got to camp with you for three days at the Desert 100 and it was a blast! You loved the “Rainbow camper” and totally immersed yourself in the dirt biking world. It was awesome watching you ride around on your KTM strider. I could tell that in your mind, you were on a dirt bike just like the “big kids”. I can’t wait until we can all ride together as a family. You’ll probably surpass my skill level within the first year, but it’s going to rock.

Thank you for another adventure-filled month, sweet boy. You make me proud!


Your Mama


Filed under Letters to Roper, Parenting, Roper


Hey guys, it’s my BIRFDAY!!  I love birthdays. I love holidays. I love any reason to celebrate. Right now, I’m sitting in cozy little 1956 camper (thanks Glen!) that’s being buffeted by the crazy Odessa winds. I’m drinking a Kona Koko Brown while sitting in sun beam – the first one all weekend (first sun beam, not the first Koko Brown). Toby is out on the course racing his face right off, and my littlest man in tucked away in the fort I made for him out of the bunk, quietly playing with one of the nine million hot wheels cars he packed for this weekend.

Life is good.

After a giant work week and a hilarious week with friends (Did you see the Facebook video?) I packed up the boys and we took off to Odessa – home of the Desert 100 – for the weekend.

It poured rain for the first two days and I’m the only girl in our large camp. Little Man refused to sleep, nap or eat anything nutritious. But you know what? It’s still been one of my favorite weekends with my boys. Just having them stuck in close proximity to me for hours on end soothed the frayed nerves I was left with after the last couple of weeks.

I love that Toby is out there, pushing himself past his comfort zone by racing in the Desert 100. I love that my Little Bear has been a great camper (sans sleep), and has been riding his little KTM strider all over the area, making friends with the bigger kids on dirt bikes and telling everyone, “My Daddy’s racing motorcycles!” much in the way Sylvester the Cat says “Sufferin’ Succotash!”  I love the fact that we’ve been hanging out in one tiny room, constantly in contact, with no distractions.

Normally, I like my birthday to be all about me. And last night, it was. Toby helped me make birthday brownie bites and we sang happy birthday. But this morning, it was way more fun to help Toby get ready for his race and get Roper pumped about braving the winds to go watch him start. It was awesome to celebrate the line-up of ballsy riders on their dirt bikes, heading out to get worked for 100 miles of tough terrain.

Because birthdays aren’t necessarily about the person celebrating them, but the life they’re living. It’s about what they’re packing into those years they put under their belt.

And this is my life. I’m surrounded by my unique and rock-solid husband, my crazy Little Bear with personality to spare, friends that don’t take themselves seriously and can be classy and crazy at the same time, bosses and co-workers who are intelligent and compassionate, and family who’s there, every step of the way. It’s dirty and messy, but I never have a hard time finding adventure or a good long laugh.

Another good year in a string of many. I am blessed.


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