And LAME-O Was Her Name-O

Earlier today a sweet church woman, whom I really respect, stopped by to drop something off for me. I invited her up, even though my house was trashed. My house is always trashed. No matter how many times I feel like I've tidied the same thing, it still looks trashed. Just part of the mommy life I guess.

I've mostly come to terms with it.

But after this sweet, together, proper lady left I realized that right there, in the middle of my living room floor, just feet from where we were sitting and talking, was my zebra print bra. It must have been pulled from the pile of laundry by little hands attracted to the bright pink lining and bold pattern.

Can you see my shame.

Honestly, I only have that bra, in that print, because it fit so beautifully and the only other color option in my size was nude, and I already have flesh colored undergarments.

Well, and who doesn't want a little fun in the top drawer of their dresser? But I promise I don't make a habit of animal prints or trashy bloomers.

So now that lovely church lady has seen my wild underwear. There is no erasing that sight from here eyes.

There is no longer anything secret about my life.

...

Side Note:

Have I told you my most

embarrassing moment?

Probably not since this blog was born

after the awful incident.

Some day I'm sure I will share,

but tonight I am already living in too

much self-pity and shame

to bear another

mortifying revelation.

...

Today is Andy's birthday.

Happy Birthday you wonderful man!

The highlight of every birthday for Andy is Dairy Queen ice cream cake. I have to special order it because he likes each slice of the cake to have a different candy topping.

It really is a pretty sight and DQ cakes are far superior to Baskin Robins. And it makes him so happy, so I play along and order one every year.

We just came home from having dinner (I tried my hand at homemade french onion soup and it turned out pretty fabulous... I've been having kitchen success lately and am eager to tell you about them soon!) and cake at his parent's house.

Our downstairs neighbor often has had his door open on these hot days and because Jack is so interested in him we have struck up a casual relationship.

I know I haven't told you about this neighbor yet,

but what you need to know for now is that

he is quite (as in very) large,

always half naked,

smells very strongly of cigarette smoke,

and on two occasions has asked

to borrow money from us.

Despite all these strikes against him,

Jack greets him with a smile every day.

Andy and I have learned his name

and are slowing gathering pieces of his story.

This is a good thing.

As we were walking in I was carrying the remainder of the ice cream cake (five pieces). I whispered to Andy, asking if I should offer them some cake. I thought he said, "Sure, there isn't much left."

So as we walked in I offered it, thinking I would put three pieces (for him and his two roommates) on a plate and put the other two pieces in the freezer for Andy to enjoy later.

What actually happened was that they said SURE! and took the whole cake box. There was no graceful way to stop them and take the two pieces we wanted. Oh dear. So I just smiled and wished them a good night and proceeded up our stairs to put Jack to bed.

As we walked up the stairs I saw smoke coming from Andy's ears.

Oh no! What have I done?

"You gave them all of it?!"

I tried to explain that I didn't have time to figure out how to keep the two for us. What I discovered a few minutes later was that when I asked Andy if I should share, he had said, "No, there isn't much left."

Oh no. Ohno ohno ohno.

In a mumbly voice I heard him lament, "I only got one piece!"

There is absolutely NO way to redeem this birthday fiasco. I can say sorry. I can explain the misunderstanding. I can promise more cake another day. But nothing, nothing will bring back that cake, of which Andy only got one piece. On his own birthday.

That is a sad, sad story.

And Honey, I really am so sorry. Don't worry, I'll get your more cake soon.