This is our little running joke during school hours. The principal in question normally raises and eyebrow and it quickly deters anymore rowdy interruptions. (Notice the usually.) However it failed miserably yesterday as the principal and pupil were in cahoots to drive the teacher (me) to insanity.
I was ever so patiently trying to explain how the Spanish sent Cortez to explore the new world after the Vikings. But all they kept going back to was the paddle boats of the Vikings. And how did they manage to get all the way over here with their horn hats slipping down. Then somehow football got brought into the conversation, and Martin is now insisting they are going to win the SUPERBOWL. Which of course the principal felt needed to be addressed. I know it is so important to education to understand a football teams offensive line up. *rolls eyes*
Well I finally get the oh so educational football talks to finish and try to focus the little ones minds back on history. Enter Maytags. I don't know how but somehow the Aztecs and the Mayans were combined to make the Maytags. Does Honeybear help? Heck no he laughs and every time I try and correct them and they get it wrong he laughs. Then at one point I say the Mayans and he replies don't you mean the Maytags? Thanks Principal Honeybear you're a lot of help.
So we start talking about how the Aztec were defeated by the Spanish and I am asking questions to make sure they're understanding. Ummmm no. I ask why the Spanish defeated the Aztec and I get cause they brought over tanks. Then they ask why the Maytags disappeared. And they answer their own question oh yeah they needed a vacation.
Should I worry? They are going to go in public and talk about how the Maytags took a vacation cause the tanks were blocking their ocean front view. Somehow I don't think anyone else would consider this a classic education.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Martin boy detective
It's been brought to my attention that I have started to wander from the main path here on the blog. Well you know the saying a mind wanders. Now if any of you happen to find mine be sure to send it back. But from now on I promise to try to stay on topic, no guarantees.
Today a new dawn reared its gorgeous head, and none other than Martin was up and ready to meet it head on. He has for some amazing reason been able to wake up before all of us and do chores the past four mornings. As heartwarming as it is to see my little man latch on to responsibility it is also sad to see my darling first born so grown up.
However this morning he came and got me for a perplexing mystery has begun to unravel. Scoot the up and coming replacement for Rooster has disappeared. I would say without a trace but after further investigation a trace was found. But I'm getting to the cart before the horse here. As I was saying Martin came running in saying Scoot was no where to be seen.
At this point I wasn't to worried. You see Scoot got his name because no matter how short we clipped his wings he managed to get wherever he wanted to go. So I figured he was just wandering through the garden. I get up anyways (who can sleep with their kid bouncing around and talking right in their sleeping face) and hey it was all of a quarter after seven how could I sleep to such a late hour.
After a few moments of sleep walking I actually woke up, maybe it was the cold dew on my bare feet. Or maybe it was Diesel almost knocking me over for his good morning scratch, anyways you get the point. So we walk around and look for Scoot. No Scoot in the barn, or the camp circle, or in the chicken house. Now I'm wondering where exactly that little turkey (pardon the expression) has ran off to. Right about then I hear a thump and Bella crying from in the house. I take off and Martin follows asking what about Scoot. I look at him slightly distracted cause now I can hear Degan arguing with Madison as well. I turn back and say "It's a mystery bub, just a mystery."
Need I say this was the wrong thing to say? The wheels started turning in that little astute mind of his, and he followed me in and then disappeared into his room. Later when he came out he was carrying his big blue " briefcase" with a sign Martin Dtactiev on the side. He stopped to ask for some scotch tape and then he went out the back door.
Curious as to what he was really doing I walked to the window and peeked out. He had opened his case and pulled out a map of the yard with certain areas circled. I watched in amusement as he walked with determination towards the first circle. When he arrived he scoured it ,notebook in hand scribbling furiously. But apparently found nothing interesting as he crossed it off with a big "X" on his map. Apparently X does not mark the spot.
He continued on and I turned to tend to the rest of the brood. But about fifteen or so minutes later he reappeared quite excited. He showed me his notebook where he had taped some scratch (chicken feed) on one side and a couple of ruffled looking white feathers on another of a page of his homemade notebook. He said he had a hypothesis (seriously, that is what he said) and asked me to come with him.
So bemused as I was I followed my erstwhile detective out to the yard. He led me around showing me where he had no success in finding "clues". Finally he led me to "north of the crime scene" (no more Jacob Two-Two for this boy) and showed me where he had found his first clue-the Scratch. (Probably dropped by the kids while choring-but shhhhhh don't tell him that.) Then he led me to the "crime scene" right to the fence of the chicken and pig pen. Yep you guessed it Scout the mass chicken murder had struck again.
Oh well, at least Martin has a budding new career. Anyone got a quarter and a mystery to solve he's available.
Today a new dawn reared its gorgeous head, and none other than Martin was up and ready to meet it head on. He has for some amazing reason been able to wake up before all of us and do chores the past four mornings. As heartwarming as it is to see my little man latch on to responsibility it is also sad to see my darling first born so grown up.
However this morning he came and got me for a perplexing mystery has begun to unravel. Scoot the up and coming replacement for Rooster has disappeared. I would say without a trace but after further investigation a trace was found. But I'm getting to the cart before the horse here. As I was saying Martin came running in saying Scoot was no where to be seen.
At this point I wasn't to worried. You see Scoot got his name because no matter how short we clipped his wings he managed to get wherever he wanted to go. So I figured he was just wandering through the garden. I get up anyways (who can sleep with their kid bouncing around and talking right in their sleeping face) and hey it was all of a quarter after seven how could I sleep to such a late hour.
After a few moments of sleep walking I actually woke up, maybe it was the cold dew on my bare feet. Or maybe it was Diesel almost knocking me over for his good morning scratch, anyways you get the point. So we walk around and look for Scoot. No Scoot in the barn, or the camp circle, or in the chicken house. Now I'm wondering where exactly that little turkey (pardon the expression) has ran off to. Right about then I hear a thump and Bella crying from in the house. I take off and Martin follows asking what about Scoot. I look at him slightly distracted cause now I can hear Degan arguing with Madison as well. I turn back and say "It's a mystery bub, just a mystery."
Need I say this was the wrong thing to say? The wheels started turning in that little astute mind of his, and he followed me in and then disappeared into his room. Later when he came out he was carrying his big blue " briefcase" with a sign Martin Dtactiev on the side. He stopped to ask for some scotch tape and then he went out the back door.
Curious as to what he was really doing I walked to the window and peeked out. He had opened his case and pulled out a map of the yard with certain areas circled. I watched in amusement as he walked with determination towards the first circle. When he arrived he scoured it ,notebook in hand scribbling furiously. But apparently found nothing interesting as he crossed it off with a big "X" on his map. Apparently X does not mark the spot.
He continued on and I turned to tend to the rest of the brood. But about fifteen or so minutes later he reappeared quite excited. He showed me his notebook where he had taped some scratch (chicken feed) on one side and a couple of ruffled looking white feathers on another of a page of his homemade notebook. He said he had a hypothesis (seriously, that is what he said) and asked me to come with him.
So bemused as I was I followed my erstwhile detective out to the yard. He led me around showing me where he had no success in finding "clues". Finally he led me to "north of the crime scene" (no more Jacob Two-Two for this boy) and showed me where he had found his first clue-the Scratch. (Probably dropped by the kids while choring-but shhhhhh don't tell him that.) Then he led me to the "crime scene" right to the fence of the chicken and pig pen. Yep you guessed it Scout the mass chicken murder had struck again.
Oh well, at least Martin has a budding new career. Anyone got a quarter and a mystery to solve he's available.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
I'm your huckleberry
Anyone worth their salt knows this line from Tombstone. And from this line came Honeybear's new truck's name. Huckleberry is most definetely here. This thing not only fell out of the ugly tree it then got mad an rammed it a few times for good measure. But you know the saying true beauty is on the inside and the engine can really rumble.
When he first told me about the truck I was...cautious. Then he took me to see it-and I was appalled. It didn't help that the supposed fine running truck wouldn't start. And the kids and I sat in the van for four hours. Honeybear was convinced he'd just get there and drive it on home. Ha.
But there was no doubt nothing I said would convince him to reconsider. You know there's another line from Tombstone. Darn it, you're the most fallible, stubborn, self-deluded, bullheaded man I've ever known in my entire life. Doc said this to Wyatt but it is the finest description of my Honeybear anywhere. So I sat patiently waiting for us to leave, hoping the dang thing wouldn't start to give me a chance.
Of course right then the engine roared to life, making us sitting in the van jump. Boy howdy was it loud. And then without a word Honeybear took to the roads. I was sitting there just shaking my head, no deterring him now.
When he came back from his test drive he looked like a kid in a candy shop. His face was a glow and he was grinning from ear to ear. I was amused right up until he told me about his test drive. Apparently as he took a corner (too fast I'm sure) he was shocked by the hood flying up and banging the window. Luckily he could see under and around the battered hood to pull over. When the then owner jumped out slammed the hood and jumped back in. Only to tell him that they were between two of the local cops houses. Nice we haven't even bought it yet and already we're going to have a ticket.
Well shortly thereafter we left without the truck thank goodness. But when I tried to talk to Honeybear about the truck he just insisted it was worth it. And I just sighed say la vee. But at least he took a couple of days and really thought about it.
I thought about it too. And still wasn't all that happy about it-till he brought it home. Then I was repulsed. One headlight, and the the other was barely hanging in there. The roof is bungy corded and the bumper was sitting in the truck bed. Yeah I said it was ugly. I was wrong its a monstrosity! But then he convinced me to take a ride.
Oh yeah that engine is amazing! That little ole s10 has more power than his big truck. And oh it doesn't just purr it roars. I have faith in Honeybear he is amazing with body work so I know it isn't going to be long before the outside matches the inside. So now he can say "I told you so."
The moral of this is an old one: Its not the outside that counts its what is on the inside that matters.
When he first told me about the truck I was...cautious. Then he took me to see it-and I was appalled. It didn't help that the supposed fine running truck wouldn't start. And the kids and I sat in the van for four hours. Honeybear was convinced he'd just get there and drive it on home. Ha.
But there was no doubt nothing I said would convince him to reconsider. You know there's another line from Tombstone. Darn it, you're the most fallible, stubborn, self-deluded, bullheaded man I've ever known in my entire life. Doc said this to Wyatt but it is the finest description of my Honeybear anywhere. So I sat patiently waiting for us to leave, hoping the dang thing wouldn't start to give me a chance.
Of course right then the engine roared to life, making us sitting in the van jump. Boy howdy was it loud. And then without a word Honeybear took to the roads. I was sitting there just shaking my head, no deterring him now.
When he came back from his test drive he looked like a kid in a candy shop. His face was a glow and he was grinning from ear to ear. I was amused right up until he told me about his test drive. Apparently as he took a corner (too fast I'm sure) he was shocked by the hood flying up and banging the window. Luckily he could see under and around the battered hood to pull over. When the then owner jumped out slammed the hood and jumped back in. Only to tell him that they were between two of the local cops houses. Nice we haven't even bought it yet and already we're going to have a ticket.
Well shortly thereafter we left without the truck thank goodness. But when I tried to talk to Honeybear about the truck he just insisted it was worth it. And I just sighed say la vee. But at least he took a couple of days and really thought about it.
I thought about it too. And still wasn't all that happy about it-till he brought it home. Then I was repulsed. One headlight, and the the other was barely hanging in there. The roof is bungy corded and the bumper was sitting in the truck bed. Yeah I said it was ugly. I was wrong its a monstrosity! But then he convinced me to take a ride.
Oh yeah that engine is amazing! That little ole s10 has more power than his big truck. And oh it doesn't just purr it roars. I have faith in Honeybear he is amazing with body work so I know it isn't going to be long before the outside matches the inside. So now he can say "I told you so."
The moral of this is an old one: Its not the outside that counts its what is on the inside that matters.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
she who laughs last, thinks the slowest
I have heard this said to me more times than I can count. I'm here to tell you it has nothing to do with my ability to think. It's my ability to follow where others minds go. Personally I think this saying fits me much better: I laugh the first time when the joke is told, the second time five minutes later when it is explained, the third time hours later when I finally understand it.
This is exactly how I have spent today. And while I warn you the joke is a tad bit juvenile finally getting it made me laugh like a loon. Early this morning my friend sent me a single line message. (Personally I think they knew me well enough they thought I would embarrass myself before I got it.) The line simply said "look down and spell A T T I C". Now I'm sure most have already understood this as they read it, not me.
I started to ask Honeybear what I was missing, but somehow sensed I was overthinking this easy task. So several hours later I still had not figured it out and finally decide to try my luck. We were traveling to my in-laws, I assumed I could just tell Honeybear the line and he'd somehow give me a clue as to what was so amusing-I was wrong.
Maybe it's the fact we've been together for so long, or the fact he knows me so well, or just something in my face. He knew I had no clue why he was laughing, and taunted me for a few moments before having mercy. He says "Honey, look down tee tees." I looked down and started laughing, it was so obvious. But come on how juvenile to just have someone look down just to say tee tees. We arrived shortly thereafter, it's not that long of a trip, and I put it out of my mind.
About an hour or so later my mind wondered from the tedious man conversation, and back to the joke. All the sudden I found myself repeating the letters to myself again. Suddenly I got it A T T I C, I busted up laughing which led to snorting as I tried to stop. Pops and Honeybear looked at me, obviously whatever they were discussing didn't strike them as amusing.
Pops got up to change the music and Honeybear looked at me and goes "What is wrong with you?" I said just one word in response "Attic." And started giggling all over again. He just shook his head and mumbled something along the lines of I knew she didn't get it.
Now I ask you am I stupid just because I kept my mind on the letters. I thought it was more of a mental challenge. So often things said in day to day conversations go right over my head, just cause my mind is more literal. Now I'll let you be the judge, next time some one doesn't get the joke, don't just dismiss their intelligence. Ask yourself "whose the dummy now?"
This is exactly how I have spent today. And while I warn you the joke is a tad bit juvenile finally getting it made me laugh like a loon. Early this morning my friend sent me a single line message. (Personally I think they knew me well enough they thought I would embarrass myself before I got it.) The line simply said "look down and spell A T T I C". Now I'm sure most have already understood this as they read it, not me.
I started to ask Honeybear what I was missing, but somehow sensed I was overthinking this easy task. So several hours later I still had not figured it out and finally decide to try my luck. We were traveling to my in-laws, I assumed I could just tell Honeybear the line and he'd somehow give me a clue as to what was so amusing-I was wrong.
Maybe it's the fact we've been together for so long, or the fact he knows me so well, or just something in my face. He knew I had no clue why he was laughing, and taunted me for a few moments before having mercy. He says "Honey, look down tee tees." I looked down and started laughing, it was so obvious. But come on how juvenile to just have someone look down just to say tee tees. We arrived shortly thereafter, it's not that long of a trip, and I put it out of my mind.
About an hour or so later my mind wondered from the tedious man conversation, and back to the joke. All the sudden I found myself repeating the letters to myself again. Suddenly I got it A T T I C, I busted up laughing which led to snorting as I tried to stop. Pops and Honeybear looked at me, obviously whatever they were discussing didn't strike them as amusing.
Pops got up to change the music and Honeybear looked at me and goes "What is wrong with you?" I said just one word in response "Attic." And started giggling all over again. He just shook his head and mumbled something along the lines of I knew she didn't get it.
Now I ask you am I stupid just because I kept my mind on the letters. I thought it was more of a mental challenge. So often things said in day to day conversations go right over my head, just cause my mind is more literal. Now I'll let you be the judge, next time some one doesn't get the joke, don't just dismiss their intelligence. Ask yourself "whose the dummy now?"
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
P.P.M.S.
I have started to write this blog entry three separate times now. And each time deemed it not funny enough to be on the blog. Well I give up cause this is what I am dealing with right now. Puppy p.m.s.! Now here's a question how exactly am I suppose to handle four teenagers under one roof I can't handle my dog going through it.
I swear she is everything they say teenagers will be: sullen, pouty, ignoring me, sneaking out, and attitude. Not to mention breaking all the rules that she knows better than to do. And this is a thirteen pound pug! What's going to happen when it's a hundred pound teenager. I plan on having white hair by then.
In case you can't do the math I will have a thirteen yr old, fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen yr old all under one roof in about ten years. By the time we are done dealing with puberty and all that comes with it I will be in the nut house. My only comfort is knowing Honeybear will be in the padded room next door.
Maybe I'm looking at this all wrong maybe I should use Gypsy Rose as a tool as to which to practice with. Lets see she's snuck out to go romp with boys (Diesel mostly) so I grounded her to her crate. But all I got was whining and talked back to. So yes definetly like what I'll have to deal with. But can I really lock the kids in a crate and spray them with water every time they back talk? hmmmmm
Then there was her chewing on my purse and getting my wallet out. I smacked her barely there nose and grounded her to her crate once again. And all I got was whining and back talk. hmmmm Does anyone else see a pattern emerging?
You know I really don't see how practicing is going to help. They're going to back talk and whine no matter how much I practice. But at least for Gypsy Rose puberty lasts a couple of months at the most. The kids will reach it and stay there forever.
Maybe I will just duct tape them to their beds till they're thirty after all.
I swear she is everything they say teenagers will be: sullen, pouty, ignoring me, sneaking out, and attitude. Not to mention breaking all the rules that she knows better than to do. And this is a thirteen pound pug! What's going to happen when it's a hundred pound teenager. I plan on having white hair by then.
In case you can't do the math I will have a thirteen yr old, fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen yr old all under one roof in about ten years. By the time we are done dealing with puberty and all that comes with it I will be in the nut house. My only comfort is knowing Honeybear will be in the padded room next door.
Maybe I'm looking at this all wrong maybe I should use Gypsy Rose as a tool as to which to practice with. Lets see she's snuck out to go romp with boys (Diesel mostly) so I grounded her to her crate. But all I got was whining and talked back to. So yes definetly like what I'll have to deal with. But can I really lock the kids in a crate and spray them with water every time they back talk? hmmmmm
Then there was her chewing on my purse and getting my wallet out. I smacked her barely there nose and grounded her to her crate once again. And all I got was whining and back talk. hmmmm Does anyone else see a pattern emerging?
You know I really don't see how practicing is going to help. They're going to back talk and whine no matter how much I practice. But at least for Gypsy Rose puberty lasts a couple of months at the most. The kids will reach it and stay there forever.
Maybe I will just duct tape them to their beds till they're thirty after all.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
football! already?
Anybody who watches three games of football in a row should be declared brain dead. Okay no rioting, I did not say this first. Erma Bombeck said this ages ago. It just happens to still hold true. hehehe
Don't get me wrong, footballs great-for about five minutes. Then I've had my fill of looking at the guys butts in those tight uniforms. But then the refs walk away and there's nothing to look at other than the football players huddling.
Seriously what is so fun about twenty-two guys running around after an inflated pig gut. They run one way-then they run the other. Then they run one way-then they run the other. For THREE hours this goes on. And then the next game comes on! It never ends!
I am so going to get it after this from my family. My brother was the star quarterback for years. I grew up with football twenty-four/seven till they finally gave me a t.v. for my bedroom. I rejoiced! It only took sixteen years for them to come to the realization that I wasn't going to grow into liking football.
Don't get me wrong there are several things I adore about fall. It's just funner to tease my family about their obsession. They have a football competition every year, with a trophy for the winner. Every week they all pick whose going to win what game and tally it up till pro-bowl season.
I tried to play but I figured out halfway through the season two things.One I didn't have a chance in Hades seeing has how I knew nothing about the teams. And two I didn't care. But listening to them talk about it and rib each other is enough for another blog altogether.
Then there's the fact that a season is supposedly like thirteen weeks. Bah! That is such a lie. First you got pre-season. And everyone gets in a tizzy about how their team is going to do. Does pre-season ever really indicate how good the team is going to do? Not according to the men I know. Their team saved the best plays and players for the real season. Element of surprise!
Then comes the real season. One week your team is going to the SUPERBOWL next your ready to jump ship. Unless your a Chiefs fan than your just someone who lives in Dissapointment Land. (I am so going to get reamed for this. But it's so worth it.) You never really get out of that rut.
Then there's the post-season. Every bowl known to man. Not to mention one's that make you go they named something as masculine as a football game after flowers. I know my man is all about roses how bout yours? It never ends it seems.
And then blessedly baseball begins. Somebody shoot me already?
Authors Edit
It has been brought to my attention that the season is not thirteen weeks, but sixteen weeks with talk of extending it to eighteen next year. yay. (read sarcasm)
Don't get me wrong, footballs great-for about five minutes. Then I've had my fill of looking at the guys butts in those tight uniforms. But then the refs walk away and there's nothing to look at other than the football players huddling.
Seriously what is so fun about twenty-two guys running around after an inflated pig gut. They run one way-then they run the other. Then they run one way-then they run the other. For THREE hours this goes on. And then the next game comes on! It never ends!
I am so going to get it after this from my family. My brother was the star quarterback for years. I grew up with football twenty-four/seven till they finally gave me a t.v. for my bedroom. I rejoiced! It only took sixteen years for them to come to the realization that I wasn't going to grow into liking football.
Don't get me wrong there are several things I adore about fall. It's just funner to tease my family about their obsession. They have a football competition every year, with a trophy for the winner. Every week they all pick whose going to win what game and tally it up till pro-bowl season.
I tried to play but I figured out halfway through the season two things.One I didn't have a chance in Hades seeing has how I knew nothing about the teams. And two I didn't care. But listening to them talk about it and rib each other is enough for another blog altogether.
Then there's the fact that a season is supposedly like thirteen weeks. Bah! That is such a lie. First you got pre-season. And everyone gets in a tizzy about how their team is going to do. Does pre-season ever really indicate how good the team is going to do? Not according to the men I know. Their team saved the best plays and players for the real season. Element of surprise!
Then comes the real season. One week your team is going to the SUPERBOWL next your ready to jump ship. Unless your a Chiefs fan than your just someone who lives in Dissapointment Land. (I am so going to get reamed for this. But it's so worth it.) You never really get out of that rut.
Then there's the post-season. Every bowl known to man. Not to mention one's that make you go they named something as masculine as a football game after flowers. I know my man is all about roses how bout yours? It never ends it seems.
And then blessedly baseball begins. Somebody shoot me already?
Authors Edit
It has been brought to my attention that the season is not thirteen weeks, but sixteen weeks with talk of extending it to eighteen next year. yay. (read sarcasm)
oh the thrills of writing
I have been so wrapped up in writing, I looove it. You might be surprised but my imagination stretches places you'd never imagine. I had writer's block, call it lesson planning if you will, but now that's taken care of.
Thanks to my parents this book has been in my head since a child. They always told me how they got me from the gypsies. That's all it took. I've been enthralled by gypsies every since. While babysitting once for friends of Mama and Daddy I accidentally convinced the girls my story was true. I just thought I was keeping them entertained.
Now my kids love to hear my "history" too. Not to mention the stories I tell them at bedtime. I've been working on a book for my Daddy and Christopher for a year and just haven't got the illustrations done yet. And I do all the kids' books for school like books on the different continents and such.
Right now I am working on a resume and picking the best of my blog for a weekly column in a newspaper. This is keeping me on edge, I'm sure you can imagine. But I need to quit dragging my feet.
It has been suggested by some of my homeschooling friends I upload the books for school and sell them. E-books I believe they're called. So many different propositions, and so much to think about. I need a manager, Mama want to be my manager? lol.
Maybe one day I will be famous, I'd just settle for my writing to be well known. I love to write, I enjoy it even more when people enjoy my writings. I remember writing little chapter books as a child, so its been apart of me for a long time.
The ramblings here today have diverted from the path I originally meant to take, but hey you know me by now. Ewww shiny is my middle name. I guess I'm just writing it all down so I can get some perspective on what way to go.
Thanks to my parents this book has been in my head since a child. They always told me how they got me from the gypsies. That's all it took. I've been enthralled by gypsies every since. While babysitting once for friends of Mama and Daddy I accidentally convinced the girls my story was true. I just thought I was keeping them entertained.
Now my kids love to hear my "history" too. Not to mention the stories I tell them at bedtime. I've been working on a book for my Daddy and Christopher for a year and just haven't got the illustrations done yet. And I do all the kids' books for school like books on the different continents and such.
Right now I am working on a resume and picking the best of my blog for a weekly column in a newspaper. This is keeping me on edge, I'm sure you can imagine. But I need to quit dragging my feet.
It has been suggested by some of my homeschooling friends I upload the books for school and sell them. E-books I believe they're called. So many different propositions, and so much to think about. I need a manager, Mama want to be my manager? lol.
Maybe one day I will be famous, I'd just settle for my writing to be well known. I love to write, I enjoy it even more when people enjoy my writings. I remember writing little chapter books as a child, so its been apart of me for a long time.
The ramblings here today have diverted from the path I originally meant to take, but hey you know me by now. Ewww shiny is my middle name. I guess I'm just writing it all down so I can get some perspective on what way to go.
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