Ellison decided she'd do the ol' "twist and comb" instead of just combing through her hair after her bath. Her little reddish bob got so entangled in the comb that Marc had to cut the comb in half to extricate her hair. All this whilst I was selfishly galavanting around doing errands. At least he didn't just cut her hair like many husbands would have done. As Ellison would say, "he saved the day". Indeed.Many of you have been asking me what happened since our checking account was bled dry by some crafty dirtbags last month. (reference previous post dated 12.03.07). Bank of America acted like this happens about every second, and our frantic phone call to B of A was met with cool, calm, and collected apathy. Thankfully we were reimbursed every penny, even the $2.00 charges that were charged to us from their repeatedly getting OUR cash out of OUR account at various ATMs across So. Cal. (who knew there was a $500 limit per withdrawl? Marc and I thought it was $200).
No, we don't know who the perps are, or whether or not they have been apprehended/incarcerated. That's something I really would like to know, but the bank is keeping mum.
My only tips are:
1) Check your account almost daily for any unfamiliar transactions. Many people only charge $40-50 per month on a card so you won't notice. Some con artists are smart and just skim off a little from each card/account they have so they won't be caught.
2) Also, KEEP YOUR SENSITIVE DOCUMENTS LOCKED UP. After the "Great Break-In of '04" we had locks put on our file cabinets so nobody (repairmen, housekeepers, babysitters, etc) can access our goods. Naturally I don't know where the keys to our file cabinets are right now, but that's an entirely different post altogether. At least the robbers won't be getting our loot out of them today, unless of course they've stolen my keys already and that's why I can't find them.
3) And lastly, never let the perp go even after she comes up with an amazing story about why she was in your house with a ziplock bag full of your passports, birth certificates, Social Security cards, bank statements, PINs, bank account info, etc. (break-in of 04).
I don't always have bad luck, but I'll definitely be forwarding onto you all those cheesy annoying emails I get warning me of "bad luck if I don't forward this to five people in the next five minutes" from now on. Sorry.
As I was musing about my Sweet Caroline, I came across some great photos of her that I love.
This first one was a freak snapshot in dim light that captured Jax with Caroline. Perfect.
Fond memories of this last one with "Muffin" the dog. No, we have never had a dog, nor will we probably ever. Muffin was the photographer's dog, and Caroline would not sit still without the dog in her "lap". So all of our 2002 Christmas cards went out with Caroline squeezing the stink out of this random mystery dog. I must have gotten 10 emails congratulating us on our new dog. Nope. Just a cute furry prop.
Since I'm kind of catching up for the entire Holiday Season as far as posting goes, I have neglected to mention that my darling first-born daughter advanced another year in age. Born December 22, 2000, she is now SEVEN. A millenial baby by a hair.
Due date: Christmas Day. (Hot tip of the week: If you do NOT wish for a Christmas baby, avoid mating season in mid-March.) And born on the 22nd only because I begged my doc to induce me so we could be home on Christmas.
Caroline is a whippersnapper in every sense of the word. She is very much like me, which I both love and dread. She is a sister extraordinaire to her younger sisters, and loves to cook with me when I lighten up and let her. (the mess, you know). Her favorite is a pasta dish from the "Sandra Lee/Semi-Homemade" cookbook. Marc calls Sandra Lee's recipes "semi-edible", but this one is pretty good. She loves reading the "Little House on the Prairie" series with me every night, when I apparently get to relive my own childhood. She thinks I grew up during the pioneer days, because she recently remarked:
"Mom, you were born in the 1900s, and that was a long long long long time ago."
Boy, I guess I was indeed born in the 1900s. 1968 to be exact, but it's still in the 1900s. Holy realization. Love that girl and her spark of fearlessness and adventure. At least she's outgrown her habit of calling black people "chocolate", and pointing to men's beer bellies and asking them if they "have a baby in their tummy" at the grocery store. I adore my Boo.
With Uncle Kevin at her birthday party, wherein she received the highly coveted "Daring Book for Girls" from Aunt Stephanie and Uncle Nae. Hopefully not TOO daring...
I'm officially training. For what, I'm not sure yet. Perhaps a Sprint Triathlon in May (man, those are hard to find on a Saturday) We'll see. I think I'm really training to be a mom that can actually walk to the park with her kids and not be tired. I miss really playing with them, and could use a little energy already.
SO, a quick recap on how my week in training has gone thus far:
Tuesday: Went to spinning class and had to leave early for fear of vomiting on my neighbor.
Wednesday: Actually ventured out to professional running store to buy a pair of bona fide running shoes. Was just a leetle humiliated when asked to run on treadmill for 60 seconds so they could videotape my run (it's called "footstrike analysis", if you must know). I mean, after all, I don't want shin splints, do I? Plus I figured I could stall running for just one more day if I took all day to buy just the perfect shoes that would make me run like the wind. Indeed, was recommended the perfect running shoe for a "very high arch and extremely pronating ankles". (but didn't my freshly-washed-and-blow-dried-silky-smooth-shiny hair look great flowing behind me when I was running? Nobody mentioned that in the video.) Wanted to actually use spiffy super-comfy new running shoes , so I decided to be ambitious and take a little "walk/jog" around the neighborhood. Ipod blaring.
Perhaps a little too ambitious. Right smack dab in the middle of Duran Duran's "Save a Prayer", got M.A.Y.D.A.Y phone call from McSweetie signaling me to return home without further delay. Major mutiny on the bounty at home. While he was trying to take call from home. I thought to myself: "OK, if I run home as fast as my spankin' new dreamboat shoes can take me, I can make it home in about 15 minutes."
So I "lengthened my stride" (the topic of my upcoming talk in Sacrament meeting this Sunday) and promptly flagged down an innocuous-looking car coming out of the church parking lot as I was passing by, and asked some complete strangers for a ride home. "They couldn't possibly be ax murders coming out of my church parking lot", I rationalized. Luckily it happened to be the 1st counselor in the Stake Presidency, as well as the Bishop from a neighboring ward, venturing out to do visits. Naturally McSweetie was mortified when he heard how I got home so speedily.
Thursday: Am planning to go to ASU tonight for a "swim seminar" wherein I will be fast enough to beat a floating piece of bark. If I'm lucky.
And in other news, I did the dishes and finally washed some sheets.
I'm back. Sorry, I'm so sick of looking at the peanut butter fudge post, too. And eating it. Had to get that post OFF MY BLOG, and S.T.A.T.
Switching to detoxification mode after unprecedented gluttony over the holidays. I suppose I really can't classify it as "unprecedented", actually, since I gluttonize(?) each and every holiday season. Thank heaven I like Slim-Fast (aka Slim-Slow, or Slim-Never), since it'll be my old best friend for the next several weeks. Would life really be worth living if one was relegated to two cans of chocolatey-yet-slightly-metallic-tasting "nutritious shakes" twice a day and a "balanced dinner" at night? The jury is still out... 
