Sometimes I don't think I even know you Mr. Hall

Every night, after the wee ones are in bed, Mr. Hall and I sit down to watch a movie. It can be an arduous process. I want certain films that Mr. Hall can't find. Or. I'm in a mood and can't take what he wants to watch. Sometimes I need delicate films, sometimes I needs me some Zombies.


Clicken ze link to see my review of yon PontyPool

Most nights it's a struggle to service my mood.

Then. THEN. Last night Mr. Hall says, "Hey, I got Lil' Fockers. Wanna watch that? "

My jaw dropped.

I thought I knew the man I married.

I thought he knew me!

Was he kidding with this? Was he being ironic? I mean, Meet the Parents and the stupid Focker clan wasn't funny three films ago. At this point, they are just beating a dead unfunny horse until all the flies and goo come flying out of the dead unfunny horse body. Everyone who is involved with Lil' Fockers should hang their head in shame.

But that kind of crap is what passes as a movie lately. It makes millions this crap. And crap like Friends with Benefits. Or Hall Pass or PLEASE MAKE IT STOP WITH THE ASHTON KUTCHER Love and Fricking Other Drugs. It's all pandering garbage. It's all beneath me.

Underneath most movies, for me, there needs to be awesome. A story. Good bad or dull, I want a story. I want characters, I want stuff that they do and say and go through.

So please Mr. Hall, please tell me you were just kidding with the Lil Fockers.

Say it ain't so.

And now, I leave you with my son, the wee Mac. I was unpacking goodies from Target last night and Mac was all like, "Momma what's that?" and I was all like "That's my new eye shadow!" and he was like, "Can I try?" and I was all like, "OK sure!" and then he morphed into the Black Swan while he ate his chicken nuggets.

Yep.

This is how it's done at the House of Hall!!

RAWR!!

Slowing the merry go round

First off:

DON'T FORGET TO ENTER MY ZOMBIE CONTEST. Cause you know that I know that you know you love Zombies!!

Now onto the irony of ovulation. Which I test most days these days to make sure when I am and to make sure when to do certain things. I test around 5 pm when i get home from work. When I get home from work the kids are all excited to see me.

Which is one of the advantages of being a working Mom. The kids get to have their school day, with their friends. I get to have my work day, being helpful to humanity and we all meet back up at five oclock and talk about our adventures. Another advantage? Driving a Jetta. Heated leather seats people, heated leather seats!!

But I digress.

So as I'm testing my ovulation the kids are banging on the bathroom door. They also get in the way of Mommy and Daddy time. Which complicates getting pregnant. OH THE IRONY!!



Yeah, ovulation. It's different these days, the merry go round of getting knocked up. Things are taking longer then expected and I'm starting not to care. Lemme explain.

Wait, that will take to long. Lemme sum up.

Exactly 12 months ago I became pregnant with my third child which we lost. Then, four months after that we lost another. Since then it's been a matter of cooperating with my ob-gyn, I REALLY DON'T LIKE COOPERATING. And lots of healing and now we are trying again. I did all the stuff I'm suppose to do and it's taking longer to get pregnant this time.

Which suddenly I'm fine with.

I just don't get all spinney on the merry go round. I am enjoying myself these days. Which is fun. Great fun.

Honestly, how can it not be when I see this guy every morning?

(the wee Mac with his thomas the train shoes!!) (the black socks are his Daddy's fault!)

Alice Jacobs is Dead: A blogger contest giveaway

Most Zombie films revolve around the beginnings and aftermath of an Zombie virus outbreak. There are often large hoards of Zombies, milling about, moaning and eating brains. A group of survivors then form an uneasy alliance and begin to blow their heads off. It's a good time to explore the themes of manning up, making due and persevering. Good times are to be had I tells ya, good times.

But.

What if a Zombie film was smaller? What if there were no hoards of Zombies, just a married couple. A scientist and his wife. What if the scientist was doing the best he could to delay his wife's death? And what if she was, as the title tells us, already dead?

His love is Adrienne Barbeau aka "Adriene Barbeau Fucking Rocks" as adored by Final Girl.

And trust me people, she is worthy of the title.



At the center of this film is a love that aches out loud. It's the love that makes the scientist husband do what he does. I can't say I blame him. I can't blame the wife either, because she has her say in all this too.

(wee hee hee!)

Either way, this film rocks. And now I want to give it away. Sharing the joy as it were.

Here are the rules:

You tell me why you love Zombie films in three sentences or less. Mr. Hall will judge the entries and whoever wins will receive the DVD in the mail.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

So go now, to the comments, let me hear your Zombie love!

Good luck all!

Adventure awaits

Such a lovely day for a car ride. On the other side is horseback riding and other fun stuff at my sister-in-law's farm. Should be fabulous!

The kids are so excited they packed and got their coats on without us asking them to.

hee hee . . . . here we go!

I asked Pancake about church

When Pancake was ~ 18 months old, we had her dedicated. Meaning we stood up at our old church and promised that we would raise her knowing God and the bible. She's eight years old now. We are fulfilling that promise by taking her to church every Sunday.

When we go, we drop off her at the children's wing so she can go to her special service. At her service, the children's crew performs skits, play games and sing songs. It's part of the children's ministry. The goal is to involve and teach kids about God, on their level, while doing things they like. Church is different for kids these days. No more making them wear uncomfortable shoes and tight neckties. No shushing them while they squirm on the hard pews. She has no idea how good she has it.

For Pancake, God is a different concept. At first, she was a bit confused about why we keep going to church, but she knew some kids there and that was fun. Then she stopped talking about it. And I stopped asking her about it. I wanted to give her time. A few months went by.

Then.

Saturday.

Hobby Lobby.

I asked her why she never wants to talk about church. She looked down and shuffled her feet. I asked if she was embarrassed about it. She said yes.

DING DING DING!! WE HAVE A WINNER PEOPLE!!

If Pancake is reluctant to talk about something, if she's embarrassed, that means something is happening on a deeper level. A deep internal stirring if you will. Which is hard for anyone to understand, let alone an eight year old.

So I pull her close and hug her. I reassure her that no matter what she tells me, I'll never make fun of her. I tell her-she'll never get in trouble when she tells me how she feels about church.

Then.

She said this.

"When I'm at church, and I'm singing, I feel God. I feel God touching my heart."



Wow.




It was at this point I started to cry a little. I was overcome. Right there at the hobby lobby. It was so unbelievable, her saying this. So I hugged her and told her how awesome that is. I told her, "Oh honey, I feel the same way, when I'm singing in the grown up church!"

Awesome indeed!

Love is a burning thing

Mr. Hall and I have been married almost 10 years. AWESOME!

Recently I was watching him clean my windshield as we were filling up with gas at the gas station. My daughter pipes up, "Momma, why don't YOU ever get to get the gas? Why does Daddy always do it? When is it your turn?"

While he was on his business trip, several times a day, I would get unsolicited nsfw texts.

He still takes my multiple phone calls, throughout the day, with expectant glee.

One night, at about 11 pm, when all the lights were off, and everybody was supposed to be asleep- I heard my daughter holler from her room, "WHAT ARE YOU AND DADDY LAUGHING ABOUT!!!?? YOU'RE WAKING ME UP!!"

Yesterday, I was thanking him for taking such good care of me during my recent bout with fever sickiness. He completely took over the child care, the cooking, the cleaning, rubbing my back and tirelessly fetching me advil, gatorade and fresh tissues. And I said to him, "Ya know, I really thank you. You take such good care of me."

To which he replied, "Of course I do, you're my wife."

Happy Valentines Day!

Engineering argument turns melty warm

I'm totally sick this week, so here's some repost fer ya! :)

Mr. Hall and I think nothing alike. That is not to say we don't have the very same thoughts about marriage, kids, and life in general. We just get there differently. I, for instance, am a romantic. It is all hearts, stars and fluffy kitties up here, in my head. I believe in things. I have passion and righteousness. And thus it is.

Mr. Hall is an engineer. For those of you who do not know an engineer let me explain. The main ingredient in the engineer's thinking is logic. There are not a lot of words. As a result, the words he does say carry extra importance. It is a tidy and efficient world up there, in Mr. Hall's head.



Which works to my advantage, because I am boundless.




When I feel in love with him, it was very easy. He's good looking, smiles easily, had a job, a ford taurus and was so nice. He asked me about me and we talked endlessly. Knowing him now though, I know how he fell in love with me. It was involuntary. He felt pulled and followed the pull. He was a bit befuddled by it all.



Which brings up s to present day.

In my head, I have all sorts of inventions. I run them past the engineer Mr. Hall. So far, none of my inventions have panned out.

My best idea was the Poor Man's Air Conditioner. It works like this: a ice pack, with openings, is attached over the face of a fan. Then- the air flows over the ice pack and gets cooled down and you get the poor man's air conditioner. Wha-la! Ima genius!

This idea was shot down by Mr. Hall. Won't work he said. The pack would melt and you could get (air quotes) cold air for 10 seconds. Just won't work he said. And the ice pack will block the air, so the room will get hotter. Sorry babe, just won't work. Still love you though. And a kiss on the cheek closes the assessment.

I tried to argue. There has to be a way I say! If we just work the angles, maybe it will work.

Alas, I lost this engineering argument. If there is one thing I hate, it is trying to argue against logic. You just can't win. This was 3 years ago.

Wait for it....


Wait for it....


WAIT...WAIT........



BEHOLD! THE FROSTY FAN!



Can't say I didn't feel a little righteous when I came upon this beauty last week. After all, I was right, eh?

Well, no.

The one review I found confirmed Mr. Hall's predictions. Gel pack lasted 30 seconds, blocked air coming through. Actually made room warmer.

This was disappointing. After all, the romantic in me still believes anything is possible. Logic notwithstanding. So maybe, in some alternate universe this thing works. But not ours, not yet anyway.

But, I will always have Mr. Hall to run my inventions through his intricate engineering mind. And when he points out my mislogic, he does so while patting me on the can. A girl can have everything, eh?

Misheard Swears At the Olive Garden (repost)

A few weeks ago, the wee Pancake (my daughter, age 8), and I were waiting for a table at the Olive Garden. It was crowded.

Some dude was using his cellphone while clogging our space. Very loudly.

He says,

"That FUCKING BITCH".

My head whips around, jaw dropped in disbelief.

I mean, it's not like you can miss a small child standing LESS THAN A FOOT AWAY.

THUMB WRESTLING WITH HER MOMMA!

This is what we do while waiting for things, we thumb wrestle.

I look directly at Pancake. She has a smile on her face. A naughty smile. Eyes all wide. She knows swears have been said in her vincity.

I decide to take the bull by the horns, acknowledge the swear, call it out for the ugliness it is. I say, "Did you hear what that man said?,"

"Yes!", she peeped. "That man called somebody a stupid fish!"


And no, I didn't correct her :)

IN NEW NEWS . . .

My obsession with Mumford and Sons continues to grow unabashed like.

It has everything a girl needs, blue grass, chorus that you can shout out in the car, MOPEDS!!! O!! be still my beating heart!



DANGNAMMITT!!! Who wants to be in a band with me??? Come on!! I could totally be the lead singer, I mean, what I lack in vocal talent I would totally make up for with my babeness!!!

Its not the size of the dog in the fight

Its the size of the fight in the dog. . .

Or the size of the fight in the Pack!




Thanks for bringing the trophy home boys!

GO PACK GO!

Mr. Hall is due in less than 24

One of the best things about being married is that someone is waiting for you, all excited you're coming home. And I can't tell you how excited I am, to have Mr. Hall coming home. The kids are excited too.

Here's hoping for safe travels and no complications. Woot!

Then I made my Mom cry

My mom and I were in the car this afternoon. With the kids in the back. She ran through a list of things she wanted to make sure I was doing while Mr. Hall is gone. Like laundry, dishes and showering. I don't think she realizes I have a master's degree. These lists she gives me are insulting.

I can run my life just fine.

But . . . she picks the kids up from school and helps out while Mr. Hall is gone. So I listen and say nothing.

Then things start to get heated. She brings up ONCE AGAIN that I need to have Pancake call my brother, her Uncle Roy, to sell him girl scout cookies.

I sigh. I can't help it. I am not wanting to do this. I don't want to remember to do this. I don't care to do this. But . . . she picks up the kids from school and helps out while Mr. Hall is gone. So I listen and say nothing.

She notices I'm not saying anything. She can tell I'm getting pissed off at her request. So she says, "I've helped you out a lot the last couple of weeks, the least you can do IS DO THIS FOR ME." (she says this through gritted teeth).

It's at this point I realize she's gone off the rails. I also realize this phone call she wants me to make-- is not about cookies. Ya see, last year, I saw my brother twice. Once during Christmas and the other time, oh wait, I just saw him at Christmas. Maybe he lives to far away. Oh wait, he lives 15 minutes from me.

I call and make offers to get together. But, eventually I stop. My brother and I have nothing in common. And he doesn't return my phone calls. Roy is a selfish human being who is missing out on the best kids in the world. He doesn't make family a priority, so I just let it drop. I'm ok with it. My Mom . . notsomuch. This is why she's getting pushy with the phone call.

And she picks up the kids from school and helps out while Mr. Hall is gone. So I listen . . . . and say:

"Ok. Got it. filed away, lets move on please!"

THEN:



"ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS HAVE PANCAKE CALL HIM!!! WHY DO YOU INSIST ON HURTING ME LIKE THIS?"

At this point I should just say OK SORRY and stop but I don't. I say this:

"It's not my fault he's allergic to calling his niece, if he wants cookies he can call. "

At that point, my Mom begins to yell at me, "ALLERGIC?? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???" I realize she's kind of shrieking. Scolding and shrieking and all I can think is that my kids are in the back seat.

"Mom, don't . . . not in front the kids."

"RIGHT!!! NOT IN FRONT OF THE KIDS!!!"

And that's the last thing she said. And then she stopped yelling. And the radio was off. And the kids sat in back all silent. Which was weird. Normally the kids are bugging the crap out of each other with the hees touching me and shees looking at me. But no, all quiet and my Mom's eyes were welling up. All red.

sigh.

My mom and I have had too much contact since Mr. Hall has been gone. It's starting to get to us. It fuels my Mom's pattern of temper explosions, then two days of not talking, then pretending it never happened.

Which is great. Two more days and Mr. Hall comes home. So during the next two days she's going to give me the silent treatment!

SCORE!

hee hee hee . .

(o and btw. I had Pancake make the stupid call. hope your happy!)

And that's when I snapped (snowblower addition)

These are from a series of emails between me and Mr. Hall. He's away on business for a while. Our snowblower is causing me to become unglued.

DAY ONE: MR. HALL ASKS HOW I'M HANDLING THE SNOW

yeah, snow. well, thanks to our neighbor, I know how to start the snowblower so it's all good. It does sputter and smell and sputter when I push it around. Is that normal? It still vexes me, the sputtering. I don't want to look like an idiot out there, with all the neighbor guys snow blowing. Plus, I need to work on my technique, aka NOT BLOWING SNOW WHERE I JUST PLOWED. HA! (notice I still have a sense of humor)

DAY TWO: THE SNOW STORM WILL NOT LET UP, I START TO SHOW SOME WEAR AND TEAR. I STOP CARING ABOUT SPELLING.

HEY BABE! NEED TIPS ON SNOWBLOWING! like where and how do I plow the driveway. do I start in the middle? towards the sides? do i plow parrellell to the garage door, or perpendicural?

For some reason, despite 18 emails exchanges that day, we don't actually address this question.

WHICH LEADS TO DAY THREE. I STRUGGLE WITH THE CONTROLS PICTURED BELOW. AND GET MORE DESPERATE.

I write to Mr. Hall:

I got up at 6 this am, I SUCK AT SNOWBLOWING!! It was taking so long, the snow was barely coming out of the shoot. A neighbor asked if I had it off of 'bunny mode.' But you told me that I don't move the lever from the bunny. Then THEN- that dial with the circle with the line through it, apparently after you start the snowblower you need to turn it to the LEFT otherwise the thing barely blows snow around.

GAAAAHHHHH!!!!!

HOW DO I SNOW BLOW THE DRIVEWAY WITHOUT BLOWING THE SNOW BACK WHERE I JUST SNOW BLOWED IT!!???!!!

ok. at work. getting it done and my shoulders are lowering. i just feel so self conscious and stupid with that snowblower. I have a master's degree. I should be able to figure out snowblowing!! aagghhheerreee!!!

Mr. Hall feels compelled to address this. Up until now he has mostly steered every conversation to um . . marital relations. He says . . .

So proud of youuuu. Just use logic babe. Remember that the chute does turn and angle. The plow comes down the street so you want to put most of the snow opposite the mailbox so the plow doesn't push it all back into the driveway. The knob with lines is called the choke. After a few minutes, turn the choke off and it will run much better. Safety first! Lumu

I write back:

OK yes, the chute turns and angles, got that.

I don't get what you are saying about the mailbox and stupid choke!

so I guess i still don't know which way to plow the driveway. up and down (from garage door to street with chute turned to the side l/r)?

little help with strategy please!!

And finally, after three days, I have the last piece of the snow blowing puzzle:

The mailbox needs to be clear for the mailman and the plow pushes from that way anyways. So try to blow all snow to the school side of the driveway. I start by making a wide path on left going down then blow strips horizontally. Try to not blow into the wind...

The mailbox needs to be clear for the mailman and the plow pushes from that way anyways. So try to blow all snow to the right side of the driveway. I start by making a wide path on left going down then blow strips horizontally. Try to not blow into the wind...

I WRITE BACK:

YA KNOW. PEOPLE IN CALIFORNIA DO NOT HAVE THIS PROBLEM. THERE IS NONE OF THIS GETTING UP AT THE BUTT CRACK OF DAWN, HAVING ICEY SNOW BLOWN DOWN THEIR SHIRTS AND EYES GET ALL WET WITH TEARS AS STRUGGLE WITH THE FRIGGIN BLOWER. THEY GET UP, THEY STRETCH, THEY GO TO THERE CAR AND GO.

ug.

I DO NOT LIKE THIS STATE.

AS SOON AS MY PARENTS DIE WE ARE SO MOVING!!

. . . . .

OK good ya'll! Something like 6 inches expected tomorrow. WISH ME LUCK!