Teri, The Early Years.

Today is my birthday. In honor of this momentous occasion I decided to treat you to a pictorial trip through my childhood. It is by no means a complete chronicle, because I didn't want to overwhelm you. And I wouldn't want to be responsible for the bleeding from the eyes that could result from the excessive viewing of the incredible cuteness that was me as a child.

Also, this gives you an opportunity to learn a little more about me. Awesome, huh?

First I would just like to say that I love my birthday. And I don't mean because of the city-wide celebrations or the amazing gifts that come from all the corners of the world. For you to begin to understand, you must know something about me that colors my world in subtle and, at times, not so subtle ways. I am adopted. Or as we like to call ourselves: a Chosen One. Ok, well, I kid about the captial letters, but you see my point. Someone got to say,"We'll take that one." Everytime my birthday comes around, I am reminded of how blessed I am to even be here. If I'd been born 15 years later, or even 10, I doubt that I would have been so fortunate. Coherent sentences fail me at this point. I can't pretend to know the grief, strife and shame that would have been dumped onto a pregnant 15 year old girl at that time. I can only be eternally grateful for being given the chance to grow up in a home filled with love and to go on to have a family and home of my own. I'm sure my husband and daughter are grateful, as well.

Ok. So, the emotional part of this post is over. On with the fun!

As a side note, my daughter came home from the hospital with the exact same kind of blanket that I did. Weird. Of course, she was born at the world famous Mary Birch Hospital for Women and I was born down the street at the Booth Memorial Hospital for Unwed Mothers. Yep. I like pullin' that one out when someone asks me where I was born.

Yeah, that first picture isn't me at my most attractive. I was much better dressed when they brought me home, but looking slightly peeved. I mean really? It's in my contract that you must hold and love and kiss me at all times!

Aaaaah. Much better.

Jump ahead to 1975! I was always a stylish child.

Jump again (work with me people, I'm sparing you a couple of awkward, pudgy years) to the beginning of a new decade. 1980! I like to call this "Happy Mona Lisa."

My, what a difference two years makes. (Just FYI, it was 50's Day at my Jr. High and this was as close as I could get.)

The next year was my attempt to rock some feathered bangs, a tuxedo shirt and a bowtie. I loved that outfit. I had very classy gray pinstripe pants to go with it. Must have been my Annie Hall phase.

I'm bummed because I don't have a copy of my Freshman year picture. I had cute hair. And the photographer complimented my legs. Perv.

Marching on toward Sophmore year. 1985! I want these eyebrows back. And, hello??? Did you see that perfect hair? The bangs had just the right height. You can see how happy I was about it.

Nothin' for Junior year - I'm really gonna hafta dig out my yearbooks. But, let's press on...

Senior year. I'd had my first date with my future husband on December 4, 1987. I'm a girl, that's why I remember things like that. Plus it was a great date. Fancy Italian Restaurant in Pacific Beach (cool, beach area - duh) and a movie - Princess Bride. It was nice to find out that we were similarly twisted in our humor. On a side note, we are going to that same restaurant for my birthday tonight. It's moved and is a little more casual, but yum. YUM. Sorry, I digress. Now, without further ado, the much worn senior picture.

Now, I've saved the best for last. The highly talented Jess Riley was brave enough to blog her fashion, um, er, uh, sense of the '90's to the world and I salute her courage. I now humbly submit my own rockin' style, circa 1988.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

This was inspired by the amazingly beautiful Lena over at Cheeky Lotus. Check it out, cuz she did it way better. (Nooobody does it beeeeter... makes me feel sad for the reeeeest... Nobody does it HALF as gooood as yoooou... baby you're the best! --- That's goin' out to all my blawggin' homegirls.)

And if you want to see the pictures all together (and who wouldn't??) go view as slideshow here.

Photobooth Friday - Installment #5

Yay me - I found another one! And you can actually see my face. That's me on the right posing with my cousin, Karen. It's dated 01/31/87 and I have zero memory of where we were (probably shopping). I assume Karen is still alive, but she won't call me back. CALL ME BACK, WOMAN. Gr. Heh - aren't I fierce?

So. That's me at 16.

Those were the days, my friend, we thought they'd never end, we sing and dance forever and a day... we'd dodeedodeesomething, we'd fight and neeeever lose... those were the days - oh yes, those were the days!

What? I love that song.

Other Photobooth Fridays:
LeSophie -She's got a lovely post!
hulaseventy Photobooth Friday Mama Extraordinaire

You'll Laugh, You'll Cry, You'll Get Your Groove On

This man? This man is a genius. Genius.

Caveat

I had actually shut down my computer, taken off my make-up and gotten into something a little more comfortable when I suddenly had a thought. (Oooh, so that's what that burning smell is, you say.)

Blondes, please do not be offended that I mentioned that the two devil girls were blonde. I have no idea why I provided that little, inconsequential detail. My own Monster is blonde and the only person she is annoying right now is me. GO TO BED. NO, YOU MAY NOT READ MY POST UNTIL TOMORROW. UH, HELLO - IT'S 10:30 - GO. TO. BED. BED! GO! NOW!

So. I am in no way, shape or form insinuating that blonde children are more annoying than non-blondes.

Alright. I've said my peace. Piece?

G'night! GO. TO. BEEEEEEEED!!!!!!!!

Ranting. Raving. Oh yeah, I'm harsh.

So, this afternoon my mind starting going a thousand miles a minute - all about posting ideas. Unfortunately, I had to go do snackbar duty down at the Little League field. Have I mentioned that H. is playing baseball this year? Anywho, it has come to my attention that whenever I have something I have to do that I don't want to do, that's when I get all excited about something else. Like posting on my sadly neglected blog. Could these ideas have come to me this morning at 8:30am? Of course not. It's gotta be right before I have to leave. I'm already not really looking forward to this, because, pook, I gotta leave the house. And interact with people. Eh. And the whip cream (we haven't gotten to the cherry, yet) on top is that I could have avoided it. The team mom hadn't called me back about when I was scheduled to work. Not wanting to be seen as a deadbeat parent, I called her. Duh. And to skim over part of some of this increasingly boring story, one mom was late (but when she told me where she was commuting from, all was forgiven) and the other two didn't show. Had to call the team mom, who graciously came over, but with short, blonde, heely wearing spawn in tow. Uh, kid, get out of the way. And then the very annoying kid of one of the moms who didn't show came in to "help". POOK. People, we're busy here. The Little League watching public want their nachos and hot dogs. Stop getting in my way. Stop touching the money. Stop asking for free food. Get a personality, then call me. (wow. that was harsh.) If you couldn't tell by now, I guess I should confess that there are many other people's kids who make me nuts. I have no doubt that those of you who have kids and read my blog have, as much as possible, taught your offspring good public manners and actually pay attention to them and don't let them run wild and irritate me. I have faith in you. OH, another example: (Little League, again) (I must be boring you to death, but I've got to get this out of my head, where it is festering and taking on a life of its own. And destroying the tenuous hold I have on my anger management issues.) Another little blonde girl. Being raised by grandparents - who let her completely ignore them - runs wild. WILD. And completely sasses her grandmother. But lets face it, this woman would be the first to get voted off the island. She "cheers" all the players on with helpful comments like: "Be a hitter" and "Throw it in his glove, honey!" in a voice that, as one of the other parents so aptly put it, makes you want to eat glass. She. Makes. Me. Want. To. Curse. Thank you Grandma Obvious. Now shut the h-e-double hockey sticks up. I think it. I don't say it. That would be rude. One of these days, though, my eyes will starting spinning like a slot machine and I'll make with the scary, possessed voice. (Let me know if you'd like to hear it - it'll give me an excuse to audio post. Cuz obviously my brain isn't churning out the witty repartee. Uh - can anyone tell me how to make the little accent marks over my more foreign words?)Maybe I should take up kickboxing or something, cuz I'm wound up tighter than a... um... uh... darn, I could really use one of those descriptive Southern phrases right now...

p.s. There is currently no accompanying picture (and you know I love posting pictures) because Blogger has chosen this moment to mess with me. Uh oh... there go the eyeeeessssssssss...

Mother's Day Meal Recap

Not only does my man wield a mean nail gun, but he can cook, too. Sunday he did our kitchen proud. Spring greens with a citrus vinaigrette. Scallops baked in garlic, butter and 6 Italian cheeses. Julienne vegetable medley roasted with garlic and rosemary. And filet mignon, grilled over applewood, served on a bed of couscous, topped with a mushroom demi-glace/red wine reduction, garnished with parsley and a slice of shitake. He rocks. Ooooh yeah.

Just saying

I have nothing against Rachel Ray. In fact, I like some of her recipes. I can overlook the shirts that do nothing for her odd body shape. I can overlook the teenybopperishness. I can handle the "EVOO". But if I hear her say "sammy" instead of sandwich one more freakin' time, I'm gonna beat her with her garbage bowl.

Could be the PMS talking.

You know you've been dying to see it

The amazing couch transformation!!

I am mortified to admit that this is what my great-grandmother's couch looked like after 15 years in the care of my feline bebes. But you can still see how great is was, no? I love this couch. It's way cool vintage.


And now, voila! All better. Check it - stripey cushions to add a little punk rock to my dreamy, sagey cottagey couch. Ya know, cuz I'm a rebel like that.


And what will go so perfectly with this darling sofa, one asks one's self? (Yeah. One did. Don't deny.) These. And/or these.

A whole week and this is all you get for right now: a glimpse into my decorating greatness. Hee.

And a belated Happy Mother's Day to all! (Including those whose children are furry and have to have their poop either scooped or picked up off the sidewalk in a baggie. I might have a human child, but I got the preciousfurrypurry kind, too.)

How to Sell High-End Appliances and Cookware to the Clampetts

Yeah. It's bologna. But it's BEEF bologna. Cuz my kid is picky.

Supah quik

Ok. I'm posting this cuz I really liked the results! Computer ego boosting - welcome to the 21st century.

You Are Teal Green

You are a one of a kind, original person. There's no one even close to being like you. Expressive and creative, you have a knack for making the impossible possible. While you are a bit offbeat, you don't scare people away with your quirks. Your warm personality nicely counteracts any strange habits you may have.

What Color Green Are You?

Me? Strange? I much prefer QUIRKY. LOL

I know I always claim I'm going to clean, but I actually am today - hoorah! My fantabulous kitchen is gonna be supah clean by noon twoish. Darn it. And then I have to make space in the sunroom to move stuff from the dining room, so that I can get my couch back from the upolsterers. Why can't it go in the living room, you ask? Um, answer: this and this. Pretty, huh?

I'll post a before and after of my lovely couch for all to Ooo and Ahhh over. I know you will be waiting with baited breath.

Alright then... (waving sponge and mop) once more into the breach!