Belly Laugh

In the past week or two, I have noticed a change in The Bean. She has developed a "big person's laugh". No more quiet little giggles and tittering- now when something strikes her fancy and she laughs -it is a raucous, open and loud belly laugh.

It is, in fact, so lovely to hear that Les and I find ourselves going out of our way to hear it. Like driving thru every puddle along the road, like pretending to fall down alot, like saying the same silly jokes over and over again- you know, the dignified stuff.

The Fine Art of Compromise

Leslie learned the dangers of "yeah-yeah-ing" The Bean today.

As I mentioned they were out tinkering in the garage/workshop. All day.

It seems that Les was adding an entire new section of "bench" to his work bench. At one point he was busy measuring or figurin' or something and Ev must have said something along the lines of "well, since you are making a NEW workbench, this old one right here can be mine"- then he yeah-yeahed her. In her mind then it's a done deal. She now has a workbench. Cool. It's real, it's dirty, it has all kinds of jars of nails and screws, it has a light- much better than that one Brev has in Grandma's living room. Now it doesn't matter if you are half listening and on automatic pilot when responding to her---- a deal has been struck. She also knows when you are on auto pilot because she sure can call ME out on it when it suits her, however, if you are unfortunate enough to strike a deal in this beta wave zone- well, it's struck in her mind. A done deal. A blood oath of sorts.

I have learned this lesson after nearly loosing a sewing machine, a car, all my jewelry and my entire make-up collection. Leslie has not- until today experienced this.

So she thinks she has a work bench. In the garage. It's hers. Now then she starts worrying about the safety of the garage, who can enter it, Papa's friends (who are coming tomorrow) should probably NOT go into the garage, her baby sister or brother or twin should really not. Then she starts really obsessing and Les gets a clue. He realizes that he just unwittingly entered into a verbal contract to here-in abide by those four feet of prime realty work bench being Ev's.

He gets huffy a bit.

She gets huffy back.

Voices get raised.

A compromise is reached.

Apparently Leslie can now use HER workbench without asking her for permission but he can not touch her hammer or projects, he gets to say who can come and go in the garage and it's now called "Our Workshop".

Lesson learned.

It was a close one, because, apparently my car almost lost permission to park in there.

Bullets

• Les and I just finished watching the final episode of Battlestar Gallactica (sniff sniff sob). Not to get too geektastic on anyone but, that is probably the single best series on tv-evar!!
• My cat gets into my lazy susan cupboard thingy. Alot. Once he even got stuck in there for a few hours because I didn't know he was in there and I shut the door and well, he got stuck. So the point is that he knocks canned goods all over the place and I can be found- frequently- on my hands and knees straining like hell to get that can of baby corn that is rattling around in the back corner and preventing the lasy susan from lazy-ing. The thing is, it's always a can of something that I have had since New York- some wierd can that I wouldn't bother to get of it hadn't clogged up the whole spinny system. If I try to send the very flexible and diminutive child after the stuff- she can, for some wierd twist of irony, NEVER find it.
• While digging around in the lazy susan last night for a can of Hominy or something, I realized how very weird I am. Because there I am, in a t-shirt and panties, on my hands and knees, reaching all the way to hell for this canned good that I nor anyone I know will EVER eat, cussing and grunting. It dawned on me that when the Apocalypse comes, I will search at the back of all of the abandoned, suburban lazy susan spinny cupboards to find enough baby corn and hominy to feed me and my family for at least 2 years then, by that time our little gun guarded garden will be producing enough to keep us fed and thus, continue the human race. Then I realized the depth of my weirdness.
• The Bean is spending the day with Papa. In the garage. She has been hammering nails into the same piece of scrap wood for about 5 hours now. She stops long enough to pee, eat a yogurt and make a run to the hardware store. They are both out there working and little snippets of conversation drift out over the sound of tools and hammering. I just heard her tell her Papa that this was her best day ever. I guess we should have saved ourselves both the money and the trouble of a trip to Cedar Point.
• We scored a set of three high school lockers at a garage sale yesterday. Twenty bucks. They are already painted and full of winter stuff on my back porch. They look awesome.
• I have no idea what makes me think that I would be able to grow a garden when the Apocalypse comes. We planted a few things this year and only one single sunflower managed to grow. We are doomed.
• While Les and Ev have been out hammering things (with no notable progress to an onlooker what so ever) I have been inside- cleaning. Don't laugh. I never get to clean in peace anymore. It has been nice. I even manged to get all of the ceiling fans dusted and I cleaned behind the washer and I even cleaned the basement up and got started on laundry.
• I have tendonitis in my right leg. This means that I have had to suspend the walking program for a bit. I am getting nervous because I was doing so well and loosing weight and starting to reclaim myself. Tomorrow I am starting Aerobics and then in a coupla days I will reinstate the walking. I have been very diligent about my eating though- trying to maintain.

Just a reminder

This is Butter Bean when her being encompassed that nickname. Butter. Bean.

This is where we have been. What does the future hold?

I have no idea but I do know that it will be interesting and that my heart will melt about a thousand times a day.

I know that I wouldn't miss this journey with Evelyn for anything.

My Mom Is In The Dog House

With me.
She took time off of work and jumped in the car. Then she grabbed my Dad and they headed off for Indiana.
What's in Indiana you ask?
My Grandpa and Grandma.
I could have gone.
I have nothing on my plate for a couple of days.
Who thought to call me?
Neither parent- that's who.

Grandma and Grandpa, I could be there right now regaling you with tales of China travel and raising a very smart kid. I could be there complaing about what I think is tendonitis in my right leg. I could be there eating all of the great food Grandma cooks.
But I'm not.
(Grandma this is where you look at my Mom with reproach)
Really. It would have been so much fun for my Grandparents to have full access to my talkative self and my talkative daughter.
Have fun Nellie.
Have fun Jack.
Just know that the Grands are secretly wishing I was there.

Hillbilly Stain

For months now, my car has had an oil leak. A very bad oil leak. So everywhere I parked, I would leave behind a huge, black hillbilly stain on the pavement. This is no big deal in public lots but my driveway was becoming a nightmare and I never wanted to park in the driveways of friends and family - it was a nuisance. Then there was the added problem of having to constantly be checking the oil and refilling it, knowing that if we forgot, the engine could fail entirely. It was stressful and expensive. This leak was so bad that an hours worth of driving may lead to the car being down and entire quart of oil- or two. It was the "Rear Main Seal".
I refuse to try and get technical here(umm because I can't). Let's just say that it was a minor problem that required MAJOR work to reach and fix. It was literally a job of a few minutes that would require HOURS of manual labor to reach and then HOURS to out everything back.
We checked on the cost of a shop repair- two thousand dollars. TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS!! Really.
The alternative to the big cash lay out was to find a great at home mechanic that had the tools and the know how and the heart to help us out. Where would one find such a person?
Smokewood, that's where. Jack to the rescue.
He worked for what was literally a week straight on that thing. The cost was under $200.
When he was done, his neck and back were sore, his arthritis in is hands was hurting and I think it will take a few more days for him to get fully rested. But he did it. The old man still has it. Now, Leslie was there helping for the big parts and when we were there, Les and Dad worked together for hours at a time getting that car apart and back together. But the real star is Dad.
I have spent my life watching that man work on cars, I have been underneath the vehicles, "assisted" in only the way that little girls can help their Daddy's. I have gone to the parts stores with him. I will never stop being amazed at the way Dad can work magic on busted cars. From what I understand this job even required the use of floral wire! And there was much talk of Newton Meters.
Thanks Dad.
We owe you one.

Last Night

Last night I was putting Ev to bed, we were hugging and talking and then all of a sudden she said "Mama?". Now, the way she said that made me think that she was about to say something of import, but I got a little nervous because the last time she said Mama like that, she followed it up with a gut blow ( http://beandippin.blogspot.com/2009/08/she-went-there.html )so I braced myself and said "yes Evelyn?"
Then she said " I am so glad that China said that you could be my Mama, because I would not want anyone else in this whole big ole, big ole world to be my Mama- just you"
Then I cried and hugged her tight and informed her that I felt the very same way.

See Aunt Lissa? No need to be upset at her this time. She gets it. She knows.