Wendy...I'm Home

[The above title is a reference to The Shining when Jack is smashing through the door with the axe. Is it sad I know that or sadder so that I thought of that when trying to give this post a title?]

So I've been gone for a while [well not really...I've been here....just not on the blog.] I know that many of you have been downtrodden and totally PO'd when you've come here to Step Away only to find the last, boring posts still hanging around. Admit it ~ some of you are HOOKED. [Most of you just want to see what craziness I'm preachin' about happening on Fulton Drive or you're one of my children's teachers and you need something to explain why the act they way they do in public...either way, you like it.] We've been super busy over here at the Short house with all kinds of ball - basketball, softball, goofball [reference to Craig] etc. We are some ball playing people at the Short house. [OK...I don't play softball or basketball. I could...if I really wanted to...OK, maybe not...] And Gabester the Babester and Flossie are going to play Tball this year. That should absolutely, 100% be an adventure. I can imagine these things might be heard on your local Tball diamond:

Emma: I broke a nail and my necklace is getting dirty....
Gabe: I hit the umpire because I wanted to!
Emma: Do you expect me to go after that ball? Ha! If it's not coming right to me then I ain't getting it.
Gabe: I don't want to throw it back - it's mine!
Emma: I'm sweaty and hot...I'm ready to go!
Gabe: Can I have a juice box? Can I have some cereal?

In other news, I'm still plugging away at the Y. To date, I've lifted a little over 200,000lbs. [That is roughly half of my previous record of 400,000lbs - of French fries that is!!] I'm kind of at a standstill though - I need something new to do. I'm thinking of trying Zumba but I'm not sure. [Actually, I am really worried that I'll be the first person kicked out of a class for being totally uncoordinated. You ever seen me dance? Heck, sometimes walking is a struggle. Last Thursday my go-go boot heel got hung on the myriad of cords near my computer in my room. Needless to say, some kid near the front had to have the Heimlich performed on him after swallowing his gum when he laughed hysterically at me tripping. 'Nuff said.] I mean really, do I want to be the laughing stock of the Y? Do I want them to "lock" the door upon my arrival? It's no fun being fat and uncoordinated. I am not fond of the elliptical [those aren't for the uncoordinated either] and the bicycle hurts my fanny. But I need to find something new...help!!!

Gabe has been up to his typical antics. This morning, butt straight in the air in the shower, he wanted to make sure he had enough water to make "butt prints" on the shower door. [I would like to be able to tell you he came up with this little antic himself but (no pun intended) you know my husband...'Nuff said.] Saturday, at the scrimmage, he was making snow angels in the dirt. He also kicked me in the shin. [There is a story behind this so stay with me please...] Several older students were watching KM play and one of them taught Gabe to kick a stranger if one ever asked him where he lived. [A. Gabe doesn't meet strangers. B. Sometimes he lives on Mars, in the toilet, at home, or in China depending on what mood he's in.] Well he thought it would be totally hilarious [as did the baffoons he was hanging with] if he tried his little trick on me:
Gabe: Mommy, ask me where I live?
Me: Gabe, where do you *&^%@#?>+~! [He just kicked me square in the shin] Why did you do that?
Gabe [Guffawing hysterically, along with his new found, older "friends"]: They told me to! [Pointing at said older "friends", who, by the way, are still horse laughing at the old, fat coach's wife now hobbling on one leg.]
Moral of this story: Don't ask Gabe where he lives...at least not when he's in striking distance.

The Diva's turning 7 this week so we're having a PARRRTTTAAYYY... a sleepover...a slumber party. [Or, as we moms like to call it, a what-in-the-H-was-I-thinking-when-I-invited-these-things-called-seven-year-olds-to-my-house-to-spend-the-night party] Should be fun for all involved and we might even get Molly to put on make-up. If you haven't heard from me by Sunday, please call someone [not the kids from above because they are mean...and they teach people to kick] and see if I'm still alive and kicking underneath all the pink feathers and tiaras.

All work and no play makes Missy a dull girl [I really should stop quoting The Shining]. Happy Monday! As always...life as a Short is good [even with huge bruise on my leg.]