Y'all think I'm good, get a load of these tales penned by my 8 year old daughter Gillian Rose!
Lego Harry Potter: Snape's Revenge
Chapter 1: The Big Lab
"Watch TV Time!" said Snape. They all watched A Bug's Life. "Flik, after much deliveration-- Whoa!" said Princess Atta. All of the students laughed and laughed. Even the teachers! "And by that, Hermione," said Harry. "I mean 'LOL'." "But wait," said Ron. "Snape, we're suposed to watch TV AFTER School." "I don't care!" said Snape. "I do what ever I want today, Weasley." "Whell!" said Hermione. Then Snape chose the other outtakes. "Eh--" said Dot. "What's my line again?" Everyone laughed harder and harder. More harder then "Lol". But usally, EVERYONE came. Even Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and Voldemort. After school, Snape was going to a secret lare. Harry, Ron and Hermione followed him.Snape laughed evily.Harry, Hermione and Ron followed him. Snape saw them. He ran faster and faster. So did the gang! They found Snape's lab. "Whoa, this place is huge!" said Hermione."You're tellin' me." said Ron. Suddenley, Snape saw them. They fought for about two hours. Harry was tired. "I'm thursty," said Harry. "Snape, do you have any water?" "Yes. Here you go, Mr. Potter." said Snape.
And Another by Gillian:
Dear Lightning, Hope, & Fang
My name is Jillian. I start with a G. My new dad, Brian Rublee has your game! He says you're stuck in Ill'C. I've sent SO many letters to Vanille, but in pencil. I just WISH I could be with you guys. I'll soon get an electric sword. It's a sword where the pointy edge is off, and it zaps electric zaps and kills SO many bad things and animals. When you, and Vanille see how brave I am, you would soon be happy, Lightning. In pencil I used to write sloppy and not beutiful. But NOW it's SO pretty. But when you guys are UNstuck, you could come to my house!
Love,
Gillian
P.S. My address is: Huntington, West Virginia, (street address deleted by Summer) and my planet is Earth.
Work, home, kids, life, it's all a breeze!!!
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Batter Splatter
“And the next time you leave me with no gas and no money when I have to drive for miles on end hurtling thru the night, blindly, BARELY on a wing and a prayer, with only corn fields and river banks on either side, both of which could easily harbor murderers, rapists and other various escaped convicts along with boogeyman, scary monsters and probe-loving aliens, who could rape and pillage me to death when I run outta gas on this desolate road, I will DEFINITELY haunt you!”
After receiving THAT text from me Brian apologized for not putting gas in the car and I grudgingly accepted. I did not, however, forgive him and I went to sleep angry. I usually do in cases like this. What’s the point? Brian won’t argue with me. Needless to say, my dreams were vivid, active and scary (except for the brief one where I received a grin and a wink along with a piping hot, comforting Caramel Macchiato from a Starbucks Barista who was a dead ringer for Nathan Fillion -that was a good one!) and I woke up untested, weary and tense.
All day long I was frazzled and stressed. I KNEW I had to make cupcakes for work and for an order. Once home and I began assembling my ingredients, I realized that I had NO powdered sugar for the frosting. I steadied myself, taking a DEEEP breath. Then I poured some wine into a Mason jar and after a few long, throat-and-esophagus-burning glugs I felt a bit better.
I returned to my mixing bowl, deciding to focus just on the batter for now. To my horror, the bowl began floating. Off the counter, straight up in the air it went just before taking a terrifying tip and then it fell smack on the floor. I swear that is how it happened. It could just be a coping mechanism, my imagining things in order to assign blame elsewhere, deflecting it from myself. Could also be the ½ glass of Mason jar wine I swigged? Who knows? The thick cherry flavored cake batter splattered everything on its slo-mo downward arc. The counter, the dishwasher, the fridge, cabinets and me.
Right then Brian came home. What a sight he beheld. In the middle of the kitchen, Brian faced a wild-eyed maniac with shiny red goo glopping and streaking her hair, face, clothes and hands. It was a very “Law and Order” opening scene kinda gruesome-looking moment. “I have no powdered sugar.” was the odd phrase I decided to greet him with. He oh so grudgingly agreed to make a Kroger run for me.
At the door, Brian turned to me and said, “You’re minus one Slurpee now.” (I’ll explain that another day.)
“Oh no! NO SIR! I am minus NOTHING!! This is a gimme!”
“What?! Why is it ‘a gimme?”
“Because I am still pissed at you for last night! No GAS in the car?! REMEMMMMBER?! ” To which Brian responded that he was pissed at me and then I told him that was reaaal mature, “You can’t be mad at me just because I am mad at you!” I squalled.
“Who doesn’t check the gas gage?!”
“WHA!? It wouldn’t have mattered if I had checked the friggin GAS GAGE! I!! HAVE!! NO!! MONNNEEEYYYY!! How was I supposed to get gas?! WITH MY MAGICAL POWERS?!? JUST go and get my *bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep” POWDERED SUGAR, you*bleep*hole!!”
He SLAMMED the door and was off.
I cleaned up my mess then started the cherry cakes allll over again. To my dismay, the second batch of cupcakes did not turn out either. I was beginning to think my cakes were cursed. By 1am I was pulling out the THRID and mildly successful (they baked up weird but they BAKED UP so …yay.) and final batch. Whipping up the frosting was uneventful thank goodness. After a shower, I crawled into bed not at all sleepy OR relaxed. Brian noted that I was sighing a lot (I do that when I’m stressed, angry or nervous) and asked if I was still tense. Well, I was also still upset with him for being all argumentative when I sooo did not need home to be so I just bit my tongue and nodded. I was resigned to the fact that I would be going to bed angry again.
Suddenly, the lights snapped off. “Hey! What are you“my book was pulled gently from y hands and I was being guided into a sitting position. I huffed and heaved a GIANT sigh. Did the guy have a death wish? CLEAAARRLY I was NOT. IN. THE. MOTHER. FUDGING. MOOOOD-uh!! To my surprise and to Brian’s credit, I was getting a back, shoulder and neck rub! YAY! And he wanted, or asked for anyway, NOTHING in return.
So off to a happily sleep I drifted, dreaming only of meadows and, ok more Nathan Fillion.
After only 3.5 hours of sleep, I am loop, silly and gigglier than EVER today and I am warning everyone who eats the cupcakes that I hauled into the office this a.m. that they were NOT made with love and care. Oh no. These cakes are full of hatred, spite and cuss words.
I only hope they don’t taste bitter.
After receiving THAT text from me Brian apologized for not putting gas in the car and I grudgingly accepted. I did not, however, forgive him and I went to sleep angry. I usually do in cases like this. What’s the point? Brian won’t argue with me. Needless to say, my dreams were vivid, active and scary (except for the brief one where I received a grin and a wink along with a piping hot, comforting Caramel Macchiato from a Starbucks Barista who was a dead ringer for Nathan Fillion -that was a good one!) and I woke up untested, weary and tense.
All day long I was frazzled and stressed. I KNEW I had to make cupcakes for work and for an order. Once home and I began assembling my ingredients, I realized that I had NO powdered sugar for the frosting. I steadied myself, taking a DEEEP breath. Then I poured some wine into a Mason jar and after a few long, throat-and-esophagus-burning glugs I felt a bit better.
I returned to my mixing bowl, deciding to focus just on the batter for now. To my horror, the bowl began floating. Off the counter, straight up in the air it went just before taking a terrifying tip and then it fell smack on the floor. I swear that is how it happened. It could just be a coping mechanism, my imagining things in order to assign blame elsewhere, deflecting it from myself. Could also be the ½ glass of Mason jar wine I swigged? Who knows? The thick cherry flavored cake batter splattered everything on its slo-mo downward arc. The counter, the dishwasher, the fridge, cabinets and me.
Right then Brian came home. What a sight he beheld. In the middle of the kitchen, Brian faced a wild-eyed maniac with shiny red goo glopping and streaking her hair, face, clothes and hands. It was a very “Law and Order” opening scene kinda gruesome-looking moment. “I have no powdered sugar.” was the odd phrase I decided to greet him with. He oh so grudgingly agreed to make a Kroger run for me.
At the door, Brian turned to me and said, “You’re minus one Slurpee now.” (I’ll explain that another day.)
“Oh no! NO SIR! I am minus NOTHING!! This is a gimme!”
“What?! Why is it ‘a gimme?”
“Because I am still pissed at you for last night! No GAS in the car?! REMEMMMMBER?! ” To which Brian responded that he was pissed at me and then I told him that was reaaal mature, “You can’t be mad at me just because I am mad at you!” I squalled.
“Who doesn’t check the gas gage?!”
“WHA!? It wouldn’t have mattered if I had checked the friggin GAS GAGE! I!! HAVE!! NO!! MONNNEEEYYYY!! How was I supposed to get gas?! WITH MY MAGICAL POWERS?!? JUST go and get my *bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep” POWDERED SUGAR, you*bleep*hole!!”
He SLAMMED the door and was off.
I cleaned up my mess then started the cherry cakes allll over again. To my dismay, the second batch of cupcakes did not turn out either. I was beginning to think my cakes were cursed. By 1am I was pulling out the THRID and mildly successful (they baked up weird but they BAKED UP so …yay.) and final batch. Whipping up the frosting was uneventful thank goodness. After a shower, I crawled into bed not at all sleepy OR relaxed. Brian noted that I was sighing a lot (I do that when I’m stressed, angry or nervous) and asked if I was still tense. Well, I was also still upset with him for being all argumentative when I sooo did not need home to be so I just bit my tongue and nodded. I was resigned to the fact that I would be going to bed angry again.
Suddenly, the lights snapped off. “Hey! What are you“my book was pulled gently from y hands and I was being guided into a sitting position. I huffed and heaved a GIANT sigh. Did the guy have a death wish? CLEAAARRLY I was NOT. IN. THE. MOTHER. FUDGING. MOOOOD-uh!! To my surprise and to Brian’s credit, I was getting a back, shoulder and neck rub! YAY! And he wanted, or asked for anyway, NOTHING in return.
So off to a happily sleep I drifted, dreaming only of meadows and, ok more Nathan Fillion.
After only 3.5 hours of sleep, I am loop, silly and gigglier than EVER today and I am warning everyone who eats the cupcakes that I hauled into the office this a.m. that they were NOT made with love and care. Oh no. These cakes are full of hatred, spite and cuss words.
I only hope they don’t taste bitter.
Friday, November 18, 2011
YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!
Brian and I went on an adventure of epic proportions this morning. If we had only known what the day would bring, we certainly would have been more prepared. As with any run-of-the-mill grand adventure (confession: we ran lotsa errands in a short time span and had fun together all morning!), the ultimate goal was to return home, safe and sound. Well! Imagine OUR surprise when we tried to pull onto our street and Gandelf the Neon Yellow was standing at our intersection. Department Of Highways-issued vest billowing in the breeze, Staff of Stop/Slow in hand, waving us away. Silently informing us that, indeed, we could " not pass.'"
"But we LIVE there!" we protested.
Gandelf shrugged and waved us on by. The gruff old fellow then gazed off into the sky, a distant and sad look on his weathered face. I'm guessing he was contemplating how to defeat the Orcs in the upcoming apocalyptic battle. That, or he was really hungry and daydreaming about his lunch.
Luckily, there is another way onto our street, so we made the harrowing loop thru a neighborhood of tightly knit houses and giant SUVs, Middle Appalachia's version of The Misty Mountains. Suddenly, a man appeared. A short, round man with a beard and flattened nose. OH MY LORD OF THE RINGS, IT WAS REDNECK GIMLI!! He was, of course wearing camo and instead of a battle axe, he was wielding a...chicken wing?!
"Hey" said Gimli, like he and Brian and I hang out every day.
"Hey." I said from the passenger seat of our car."Uh, yeah. we need to get to our house. Up there."
"Where is it?" Gimli asked, gnawing on that chicken wing like it was lembas bread.
"Uhhhh on ROSALIND?" Brian was a little taken aback, I believe. Poor thing. City Boy is still kinda new to the ways of Middle Appalachia. When we're hungry, we eat. Job duties or customer service be damned. Kinda like Hobbits!
Smacking his bulbous lips and lickin off some undoubtedly yummy chicken fat with a giant, floppy tongue, Gimli said, "Kay." The Dwarves of Middle Appalachia are a simple people. Not much for words and fancy talkin. He turned his back to us for a second or two and spoke into a walkie-talkie completely ensconced in duct tape. Then, tossing the cleanly picked chicken wing over his shoulder and into the roadside brushn the aimiable Dwarf granted us access to the previously forbidden destination of home. "Y'all g'won 'N" Redneck Gimli said in the native tongue of his region. Translation: either, "You all go on in." or, alternatively, "You all go on then." Either is acceptable.
Cautiously, Brian and I found our way home, fighting off bits of foul-smelling hot tar, lava and dangerously sharp rocks and steep drop offs, not unlike Frodo and Sam's quest to return The Ring to Mordor.
I was able to make it back OUT to the office party but upon coming back Rosalind was COMPLETELY blocked by heaving giant beasts spewing bile and noxious gasses. Once again, Gandelf the Neon Yellow waved his Staff of Stop/Slow and entrance was denied.
I made the treacherous path thru the Misty Mountains all alone and, to my relief, Redneck Gimli was no where to be seen on the other side. Ignoring the ominous Road Closed signed I clawed and scraped and forged my way thru until I was back on Rosalind Road.
There was no magical ring for me to return. Not in this journey. Oh no, I had something much, much more important and coveted in my hands.
I had The King's lunch of Thanksgiving Leftovers to deliver. :)
"But we LIVE there!" we protested.
Gandelf shrugged and waved us on by. The gruff old fellow then gazed off into the sky, a distant and sad look on his weathered face. I'm guessing he was contemplating how to defeat the Orcs in the upcoming apocalyptic battle. That, or he was really hungry and daydreaming about his lunch.
Luckily, there is another way onto our street, so we made the harrowing loop thru a neighborhood of tightly knit houses and giant SUVs, Middle Appalachia's version of The Misty Mountains. Suddenly, a man appeared. A short, round man with a beard and flattened nose. OH MY LORD OF THE RINGS, IT WAS REDNECK GIMLI!! He was, of course wearing camo and instead of a battle axe, he was wielding a...chicken wing?!
"Hey" said Gimli, like he and Brian and I hang out every day.
"Hey." I said from the passenger seat of our car."Uh, yeah. we need to get to our house. Up there."
"Where is it?" Gimli asked, gnawing on that chicken wing like it was lembas bread.
"Uhhhh on ROSALIND?" Brian was a little taken aback, I believe. Poor thing. City Boy is still kinda new to the ways of Middle Appalachia. When we're hungry, we eat. Job duties or customer service be damned. Kinda like Hobbits!
Smacking his bulbous lips and lickin off some undoubtedly yummy chicken fat with a giant, floppy tongue, Gimli said, "Kay." The Dwarves of Middle Appalachia are a simple people. Not much for words and fancy talkin. He turned his back to us for a second or two and spoke into a walkie-talkie completely ensconced in duct tape. Then, tossing the cleanly picked chicken wing over his shoulder and into the roadside brushn the aimiable Dwarf granted us access to the previously forbidden destination of home. "Y'all g'won 'N" Redneck Gimli said in the native tongue of his region. Translation: either, "You all go on in." or, alternatively, "You all go on then." Either is acceptable.
Cautiously, Brian and I found our way home, fighting off bits of foul-smelling hot tar, lava and dangerously sharp rocks and steep drop offs, not unlike Frodo and Sam's quest to return The Ring to Mordor.
I was able to make it back OUT to the office party but upon coming back Rosalind was COMPLETELY blocked by heaving giant beasts spewing bile and noxious gasses. Once again, Gandelf the Neon Yellow waved his Staff of Stop/Slow and entrance was denied.
I made the treacherous path thru the Misty Mountains all alone and, to my relief, Redneck Gimli was no where to be seen on the other side. Ignoring the ominous Road Closed signed I clawed and scraped and forged my way thru until I was back on Rosalind Road.
There was no magical ring for me to return. Not in this journey. Oh no, I had something much, much more important and coveted in my hands.
I had The King's lunch of Thanksgiving Leftovers to deliver. :)
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Random Thoughts, Exboyfriend Edition
Is that him? No way, it CAN't be. I thought he was........
Yep. It's him alright. And my kid's going over there to talk to his kid. EEEEEEEK!
Be cool. Walk, don't run. Things... are not...pretty when I run. Or, attempt to run I should say.
Tilt head only slightly coyly and TRY to listen to him.
Can he HEAR that?! My heart is beating so fast and hard! I'll bet he can SEE it thumping thru my shirt! It's becasue I sorta ran-walked chasing after Gilly. Yep, that's it...
Oh yuck! This SHIRT!!! A ratty WORk tee?!! AND MOM KHAKIS?! Am I SERIOUSLY WEARING MOM KHAKIS?!?!? Why couldn't I at least be wearing something that shows SOME amount of decolletage?! Anything to prove I "still got it."
Wait, do I "still got it?"
I knew I should have freshened my make-up before leaving the house. I'm not even wearing chapstick.
Crap. I'm not even wearing chapstick. My teeth are gonna get all oddly dry because I am smiling so much. Then when I go to speak up my gummy lips are gonna get stuck to my dry teeth and he's gonna think I'm snarling at him. SSSwwweeet.
Hey, stop SMILING so much!! He's gonna think you're flirting. Which you TOTALLY ARE NOT. You have a lovely boyfriend-husband-type person with whom you are madly in love and vice versa. Ohhh, try to work that into the conversation. That's good stuff right there!
DAANNNG ITTT!!! I had hot dogs for dinner. He hugs me for the first time in over a freakin DECADE and I smell like hot dogs. Awesome.
Oh PLEASE don't let me have hot dog buns jammed in my teeth! GROSS!!!!
And do NOT yell out "I HAD HOT DOGS FOR DINNER, DONT WORRY. ITS NOT B.O.!" Because that will not make this exchange any less awkward.
Wow. He SOUNDS exaaaaaactly the same. Weird. Ew, do I sound the same as I did back then? I had hoped my voicebox would mellow a little by now. Is my voice all high and tinny and stupid-sounding like it was then? Ok I'll consciously lower my voice a bit. I'm sure that will sound COMPLETELy natural and not at all creepy or disturbing.
Nope. That was creepy and disturbing. At best. Clear throat and speak normally next time. If this noise I call a voice can be classified as "normal"
I sooooo should have stuck to that hardcore diet/work out regime I started (two years ago).
Uncross those arms. Don't wanna appear defensive. But what to do with them now? No! Stop it!Am I REALLY twirling my hair?! I'm 35! Not 16!! Wait, I think I'm still only 34...wait, HOW old is Holly now???....
Don't look at him toooo terribly long. BUT! Dont avoid his gaze, either. That will seem shifty and suspicious. Of what, I don't know....
His eyelashes are still soooo amazing. Why do boys always get those heartbreakingly long, curly lashes?
Did he get taller?! Have I shrunk?! Nah. I used to wear heels all the time. Ugh. When did I get so OLD?! When did my ankles get so weak? Prolly when I got so fat. And old. So old. And fat. So fat...
And lastly, DO NOT under ANY circumstances say to this beautiful man, this man who has somehow become somewhat iconic to the 20something silly girl you once were (and who you sometimes feel like you still are) do NOT say to him "Hey, prison was good for you! You look amazing!"
Because if you do sputter something so senseless and horrific like that at him, and he comes back with the sweetest, shy chuckle and a humble "Thanks, I'm doing better," it just wont seem fair. Not fair at all.
But it will be disarming. And it will seem like old times. Only different old times than the last time you spoke. Instead of "what classes are you taking?' or "where are you living now?" It'll be filling each other in on the happenings of parents, spouses, kids and old neighborhood friends.
Then it'll be time to go and this oh so long moment will have only actually lasted a precious, fleeting nano-second.
And that's okay too. Say goodbye and don't look back. There was enough of that back then. Times have changed. I have changed, he has changed. And change can be good. So very , very good. So off I skipped (and by skipped I mean WALKED, slowly and deliberately so as to avoid any extra jiggling or face-planting) , holding my big baby girl's hand, happliy humming a song.
Oh shoot, was I just humming OUR song? That cheesy one from the 90's? Did he HEAR that....?
Yep. It's him alright. And my kid's going over there to talk to his kid. EEEEEEEK!
Be cool. Walk, don't run. Things... are not...pretty when I run. Or, attempt to run I should say.
Tilt head only slightly coyly and TRY to listen to him.
Can he HEAR that?! My heart is beating so fast and hard! I'll bet he can SEE it thumping thru my shirt! It's becasue I sorta ran-walked chasing after Gilly. Yep, that's it...
Oh yuck! This SHIRT!!! A ratty WORk tee?!! AND MOM KHAKIS?! Am I SERIOUSLY WEARING MOM KHAKIS?!?!? Why couldn't I at least be wearing something that shows SOME amount of decolletage?! Anything to prove I "still got it."
Wait, do I "still got it?"
I knew I should have freshened my make-up before leaving the house. I'm not even wearing chapstick.
Crap. I'm not even wearing chapstick. My teeth are gonna get all oddly dry because I am smiling so much. Then when I go to speak up my gummy lips are gonna get stuck to my dry teeth and he's gonna think I'm snarling at him. SSSwwweeet.
Hey, stop SMILING so much!! He's gonna think you're flirting. Which you TOTALLY ARE NOT. You have a lovely boyfriend-husband-type person with whom you are madly in love and vice versa. Ohhh, try to work that into the conversation. That's good stuff right there!
DAANNNG ITTT!!! I had hot dogs for dinner. He hugs me for the first time in over a freakin DECADE and I smell like hot dogs. Awesome.
Oh PLEASE don't let me have hot dog buns jammed in my teeth! GROSS!!!!
And do NOT yell out "I HAD HOT DOGS FOR DINNER, DONT WORRY. ITS NOT B.O.!" Because that will not make this exchange any less awkward.
Wow. He SOUNDS exaaaaaactly the same. Weird. Ew, do I sound the same as I did back then? I had hoped my voicebox would mellow a little by now. Is my voice all high and tinny and stupid-sounding like it was then? Ok I'll consciously lower my voice a bit. I'm sure that will sound COMPLETELy natural and not at all creepy or disturbing.
Nope. That was creepy and disturbing. At best. Clear throat and speak normally next time. If this noise I call a voice can be classified as "normal"
I sooooo should have stuck to that hardcore diet/work out regime I started (two years ago).
Uncross those arms. Don't wanna appear defensive. But what to do with them now? No! Stop it!Am I REALLY twirling my hair?! I'm 35! Not 16!! Wait, I think I'm still only 34...wait, HOW old is Holly now???....
Don't look at him toooo terribly long. BUT! Dont avoid his gaze, either. That will seem shifty and suspicious. Of what, I don't know....
His eyelashes are still soooo amazing. Why do boys always get those heartbreakingly long, curly lashes?
Did he get taller?! Have I shrunk?! Nah. I used to wear heels all the time. Ugh. When did I get so OLD?! When did my ankles get so weak? Prolly when I got so fat. And old. So old. And fat. So fat...
And lastly, DO NOT under ANY circumstances say to this beautiful man, this man who has somehow become somewhat iconic to the 20something silly girl you once were (and who you sometimes feel like you still are) do NOT say to him "Hey, prison was good for you! You look amazing!"
Because if you do sputter something so senseless and horrific like that at him, and he comes back with the sweetest, shy chuckle and a humble "Thanks, I'm doing better," it just wont seem fair. Not fair at all.
But it will be disarming. And it will seem like old times. Only different old times than the last time you spoke. Instead of "what classes are you taking?' or "where are you living now?" It'll be filling each other in on the happenings of parents, spouses, kids and old neighborhood friends.
Then it'll be time to go and this oh so long moment will have only actually lasted a precious, fleeting nano-second.
And that's okay too. Say goodbye and don't look back. There was enough of that back then. Times have changed. I have changed, he has changed. And change can be good. So very , very good. So off I skipped (and by skipped I mean WALKED, slowly and deliberately so as to avoid any extra jiggling or face-planting) , holding my big baby girl's hand, happliy humming a song.
Oh shoot, was I just humming OUR song? That cheesy one from the 90's? Did he HEAR that....?
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