I am home. Back from South Beach Miami. I know this because I'm back to poo-patrol, flower drenching, ball throwing for the canines and flooding my own kitchen. All completed within one hour of one another. Quite an accomplishment if I do say so myself.
But first I took a much needed nap . . . . 2-hours later . . . .
The reality of home hit me when I awoke from my daytime slumber only to notice the patio flowers gagging for life. They had not been watered since my departure. This is not the husbands fault as I forgot to tell him that this must be done. On. A. Regular. Basis. For example, daily. I had already left the husband to his own devices which include feeding himself and I am almost entirely sure that that diet consisted of no less than constant Taco Bueno. He also had to take care of the entire menagerie, which consists of feeding the gatos and perros as well as potty breaks for the barkers and scooping the kitty litter. These are new chores for the husband, so I can understand not completing each one to the mark of "complete satisfaction." He did what he could on top of working so that I may participate in this much needed weekend getaway. Therefore, I cannot and will not complain that he almost killed my flowers. This week will be the deciding factor as to whether or not the back porch garden lives and the husband is newly knighted, Sir-Killer-of-All-Things-Beautiful.
Fast forward or backward. Whatever. . . . .After I came in from the drenching of the flowers, setting sprinkler systems for the newly planted bushes and the most non-coveted dirty job of poo-patrol, I noticed that my one house plant was also in desperate need for water. One would tend to think, "that's easy enough" and it is. It takes less than 5-minutes to water the flower. Or so I thought. In my sleep-deprived-zombie-like-no-coffee-consumed-today-haze, for all I know, I could have sat there watering the plant for over 10 minutes. I hope I did not. All I really know is that I cannot be entirely for certain.
Anyhow, all chores are completed for the day, I sat down to catch up on my fellow cyber space friends and contribute a bit myself. Another hour passes. I think I hear dripping during this time. Yet, I ignore said sound only to putter into our kitchen much later to find it mostly flooded. First, I panicked: who pee'd?! Uh. Wait. The entire floor is wet. . . .is. this. water? And then, where is the water coming from? Where is the leak? OhmyGoditisthedishwasher! I knew we should have had that archaic beastly possessed appliance replaced months ago. Now, it's gone and totally died while throwing up it's last meal on my entire kitchen floor. *sigh*
Mopping begins. And further inspection of our ancient dishwasher ensues. I found the water was not coming from our old dishwasher. Awesome. It was; however, coming from my one houseplant. I guess you could say I was a wee bit overzealous in watering the poor thing. I also, in my 1/4-functioning brain, somehow knew that the husband had not run the dishwasher as plates, silverware and glasses are not a requirement for Taco Bueno. Weird thing to flood your kitchen by watering your one and only house plant. [If you're asking me why I only have one house plant, it's because of the husbands cat. This cat thinks anything living and green is worthy of being his most delicious meal. If you remember, this one and only living plant is a cactus. Sir-Chew-On-This hasn't quite figured out how to chew on this, which, to use Martha's word's, "is a good thing."]
Finally, South Beach was fantastic! I loved it! More so, I loved seeing my high school friends again. We had loads of catching up to do. Eighteen years worth. We had even more laughter and smiles. I have lots of stories, but I am tired. For now, you'll have to be okay with a few pictures until I can do a proper catching up. Until then, all you really need to know is that I'm still sparkly! I loved learning that my friends are still beautiful (from their insides to their outsides), healthy, successful, completely happy, awesome mother's and still so full of laughter.
One last shout out: I know that you are all wondering about my eyeballs. They are not healed. I wore my glasses in the land of the skinny beautiful people. I even wore a tankini. Both of which were psychologically damaging - for me and the people around me, I'm sure. Not to deviate too much as I usually tend to do, the eyeballs are still on both medicines. A third may now be attempted, which may seriously include the spork. While in SB Miami I attempted to wear my contact lens's twice. The first time successfully. The second time not so much. After several unsuccessful attempts, I finally got one lens in my eye. The eyeball felt a searing pain, as if someone stuck a lit bottle rocket up my nose and it exploded in my eye. This caused me to take out the lens and succumb to a hatred of all-things-contact-lens's. Hexing and vexing followed. As you know, I am quite good at this. Regardless of my cursing skills, it will be quite sometime before I ever undertake that beauty regiment again. Here's me refusing to wear my glasses trying to read Ola's menu - I am officially an old person (and it's not due to the Dirty Martini's you see):
But first I took a much needed nap . . . . 2-hours later . . . .
The reality of home hit me when I awoke from my daytime slumber only to notice the patio flowers gagging for life. They had not been watered since my departure. This is not the husbands fault as I forgot to tell him that this must be done. On. A. Regular. Basis. For example, daily. I had already left the husband to his own devices which include feeding himself and I am almost entirely sure that that diet consisted of no less than constant Taco Bueno. He also had to take care of the entire menagerie, which consists of feeding the gatos and perros as well as potty breaks for the barkers and scooping the kitty litter. These are new chores for the husband, so I can understand not completing each one to the mark of "complete satisfaction." He did what he could on top of working so that I may participate in this much needed weekend getaway. Therefore, I cannot and will not complain that he almost killed my flowers. This week will be the deciding factor as to whether or not the back porch garden lives and the husband is newly knighted, Sir-Killer-of-All-Things-Beautiful.
Fast forward or backward. Whatever. . . . .After I came in from the drenching of the flowers, setting sprinkler systems for the newly planted bushes and the most non-coveted dirty job of poo-patrol, I noticed that my one house plant was also in desperate need for water. One would tend to think, "that's easy enough" and it is. It takes less than 5-minutes to water the flower. Or so I thought. In my sleep-deprived-zombie-like-no-coffee-consumed-today-haze, for all I know, I could have sat there watering the plant for over 10 minutes. I hope I did not. All I really know is that I cannot be entirely for certain.
Anyhow, all chores are completed for the day, I sat down to catch up on my fellow cyber space friends and contribute a bit myself. Another hour passes. I think I hear dripping during this time. Yet, I ignore said sound only to putter into our kitchen much later to find it mostly flooded. First, I panicked: who pee'd?! Uh. Wait. The entire floor is wet. . . .is. this. water? And then, where is the water coming from? Where is the leak? OhmyGoditisthedishwasher! I knew we should have had that archaic beastly possessed appliance replaced months ago. Now, it's gone and totally died while throwing up it's last meal on my entire kitchen floor. *sigh*
Mopping begins. And further inspection of our ancient dishwasher ensues. I found the water was not coming from our old dishwasher. Awesome. It was; however, coming from my one houseplant. I guess you could say I was a wee bit overzealous in watering the poor thing. I also, in my 1/4-functioning brain, somehow knew that the husband had not run the dishwasher as plates, silverware and glasses are not a requirement for Taco Bueno. Weird thing to flood your kitchen by watering your one and only house plant. [If you're asking me why I only have one house plant, it's because of the husbands cat. This cat thinks anything living and green is worthy of being his most delicious meal. If you remember, this one and only living plant is a cactus. Sir-Chew-On-This hasn't quite figured out how to chew on this, which, to use Martha's word's, "is a good thing."]
Sir-Chew-On-This formally known as Sir Pee-On-This or Pontius.
The husbands Cat.
The husbands Cat.
Finally, South Beach was fantastic! I loved it! More so, I loved seeing my high school friends again. We had loads of catching up to do. Eighteen years worth. We had even more laughter and smiles. I have lots of stories, but I am tired. For now, you'll have to be okay with a few pictures until I can do a proper catching up. Until then, all you really need to know is that I'm still sparkly! I loved learning that my friends are still beautiful (from their insides to their outsides), healthy, successful, completely happy, awesome mother's and still so full of laughter.
Three Amigas
The mojito. My daily South Beach Drink.
This is a South Beach Chicken for Ian: All Chickens! All the Time!
One last shout out: I know that you are all wondering about my eyeballs. They are not healed. I wore my glasses in the land of the skinny beautiful people. I even wore a tankini. Both of which were psychologically damaging - for me and the people around me, I'm sure. Not to deviate too much as I usually tend to do, the eyeballs are still on both medicines. A third may now be attempted, which may seriously include the spork. While in SB Miami I attempted to wear my contact lens's twice. The first time successfully. The second time not so much. After several unsuccessful attempts, I finally got one lens in my eye. The eyeball felt a searing pain, as if someone stuck a lit bottle rocket up my nose and it exploded in my eye. This caused me to take out the lens and succumb to a hatred of all-things-contact-lens's. Hexing and vexing followed. As you know, I am quite good at this. Regardless of my cursing skills, it will be quite sometime before I ever undertake that beauty regiment again. Here's me refusing to wear my glasses trying to read Ola's menu - I am officially an old person (and it's not due to the Dirty Martini's you see):
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5 comments:
Looks like you had a great time! Glad you had some fun with some old friends.
I am counting down my days until my Florida trip...5 days!
Hey, I've done the whole water the plants so much that they flood the carpet thing. I considered myself a moron at the time, but now I see I'm in great company. Glad you're back. Nice looking mojito.
Oh, speaking of watering the floor.
The first week we lived in our town home I did the dumbest thing that I thought only happened in movies....
I thought I had bought HEB brand dishwashing machine soap....but learned the hard way it was the soap to use for hand washing...as you can probably already imagine. The very first time our new dishwasher was used, I used the handwashing dish soap in the dishwasher and suds & water ended up all over our kitchen tile. Thank God we were home. We will never forget that & the hubby will never let me live that down! :)
I wasn't of sound mind when watering the plant. Unlike being a moron, it is not my fault, foo! My excuse is 5 hours of sleep in (+2 for napping) 2 days.
Mojito's rocked in South Beach! But. . . nothing of the chicken?
I've known of many people using dishwashing soap (for the sink) in the dishwasher. They all got the same results. I think that's hilarious! Messy, but hilarious!
Well, no, because it's clearly a rooster.
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