What's Playing at the Drive-In

We had been meaning to visit this theater about 40 miles from our house for quite some time now, and we finally got around to it Friday night. We went to see Night at the Museum 2. The weather was really pleasant, and there were lots of families there with frisbees and lawn chairs. There was 50's music playing on the old speakers, and we all played around and danced the twist until it got dark enough for the movie to start.

And we also ate our weight in junk food. The show began with some vintage theater propaganda.

Consequently I want to make this theater a regular habit. I really do. Then there were some vintage concession stand commercials, specifically one for dancing pickles.
Now I want to eat a dancing pickle. And I don't even like pickles.
Greg and I do this all the time- we dress in matching clothes and eat pickles in the car. Except I always wear my pearls. This lady is an amateur.
We really did, and we really will, thank you theater propaganda.

We only stayed for the first feature (Wolverine was the double) mainly because the kids didn't go to sleep like we had hoped. It was still great fun. We got home around midnight and I was awakened at 2 by my youngest, who had consumed half of the popcorn bucket (pictured above) and felt the need to puke it all back up all over everything in her room.

In conclusion I will never ever eat another bite of popcorn as long as I live. I am done. For life.

Thank God she didn't eat a bucket of pickles.

An evening in the back yard

Okay so I've been putting up a lot of photos of my oldest lately, but I do have other children, random photos, and nothing interesting to say, so here goes.

My first harvest from the garden the other day. Pitiful but yummy anyway. Kate loves to take pictures of me with my camera, and I love to delete them. Then I was reading something the other day about how moms should get behind the camera, too, so the kids will have photos of us when we were (relatively) young, and the fact of the matter is in ten years I will look back on this photo with a face that is ten years older, and wistfully remember being only 33. Of course, in ten years I will have three teenagers and will probably look and feel much more than ten years older.

Freckle Face

When I was a kid, I had freckles just like these, and I hated them. Now I think they're beautiful.

Stayyyyy out of the Marsh!

I've been cracking myself up at that joke all weekend, although very few people in my everyday life actually get it. It's not even a joke, really, it's an impression of a character on a ride at Six Flags over Georgia, sort of an inside joke between my sisters and me from way back in the days we used to spend our summers wearing out our Six Flags season passes.

I took my Brownie troop camping in East Texas this weekend, which is the source of my marsh musings, and also the source of my so-tired-I'm-loopy sense of humor, making jokes that are only funny to me and then laughing endlessly at them. We had a really good time, and got really wet in the rain, and ate lots of marshmallows. The end.

Except for this: I have a nice tent that I have been using for about two years now. When I got the tent, I waterproofed it. The top of the tent is made out of screen material, and waterproofing that is ineffective. The tent comes with a rain fly, a cover to put over the top of the tent in case of rain. It never occurred to me to waterproof the rain fly. I reasoned that a product whose sole purpose is to protect the tent from rain would be, I don't know, water repellent.

I was very very wrong.

Dear Tent Manufacturers:

Please do not waste my time and sanity by manufacturing a product whose function is to repel water and whose title implies that its purpose will be fulfilled during the rain, unless you are going to actually go to the trouble of ensuring that the product is water repellent enough to literally repel actual rain. Otherwise you are just selling me a cape for my tent, and my tent does not need a cape.

Love, Chrissy

P.S. Your instructions suck.


Moving on.

Thankfully I had made the girls put all of their belongings in trash bags that morning before we left (a lesson learned from experience, unfortunately), so we bought tarps at the store and ghettoed up the tent, and all was well. I don't really have lots of pictures to share on the blog, since they're all of other people's children, but I will leave you with this:
I have never shared with you the extent of my marshmallow roasting talents because I value modesty. However, it is not an understatement to say that I am the champion of marshmallow roasting, and have been for over 15 years. No one can challenge me. My skill cannot be matched. That is all.

Photos from the Doctor's Office

(her first tattoo)

She flies through the air with the greatest of ease...it's the landing that's the problem.

A little over a year ago, I posted some photos on the blog of my kids playing on their favorite playground. It had been around since the sixties, and was a landmark in our community. A friend commented at the time that it was actually pretty neat that we still had a playground you could still break bones on, meaning that all of the newer ones are so plastic and sterile. I thought so, too.
A few months later, the old playground failed an inspection and was torn down. We were sad to see it go.

This week, the new "safe" playground was unveiled, and I took the kids to check it out on Saturday. It has a pretty cool treehouse theme, twisty slides, shiny new swings, and a huge sandbox. It is also very plastic and sterile. (See? Completely safe. Katie is about to knock that girl off of the top rung, just wait.)

It was all loads of fun, until Grace climbed up to a high "treehouse" platform with a hole in the middle for a ladder, forgot the hole was there, and as she was playing, took a step backwards straight down into the hole.

When I got to her, she was dangling upside down with her legs tangled up in the rungs of the ladder at sickening angles, and she was screaming hysterically. Somehow, by the grace of God, she fell head first without hitting her head and twisted her legs all akimbo without even bruising them. Her wrist, however, is broken.

So this week we'll be taking a trip to the pediatric orthopaedist, getting a (hopefully pink) cast, and rearranging plans for the first part of summer to exclude swimming. All the while I will continue to ponder why my most cautious child is the one with the most trips to the ER, and shudder while thinking of how it could have been much, much worse.

Meet my new best friend

Her name is Grilled Tequila Lime Chicken with Cilantro From the Garden, Avocado, Tomato, and Toasted French Bread with Garlic Butter and Melted Monterrey Jack Cheese, Served With Grilled Corn On the Cob and Grilled Yellow Squash. My favorite. The only things missing are bacon and lettuce, which I accidentally omitted.

Tomorrow night the leftovers will be turned into chicken fajitas with more avocado, more cilantro, well more of everything except we'll have tortillas instead of bread. And I'll add the grilled squash in the tortilla and it will be heaven. I'll serve it with rice and black beans that no one will eat.

***Edited to add: I've gotten e-mails asking for the recipe for the chicken. There is no recipe, it's a Lawry's marinade from the grocery store. The squash is just butter, salt, pepper, garlic, and lemon, sprinkled on sliced squash and wrapped in a foil packet. For the fajitas I will brown the squash in a skillet and chop up the chicken and reheat in the skillet.

The Upside of Being Unemployed

1. We no longer have to pay $50 a month for Greg to take the toll road to work. Cha-ching!

2. Husband is underfoot at home a lot more.

3. Kids are old enough to earn their own living.That's right babies! Get to work! Those swimming lessons don't pay for themselves!

In all seriousness, we're doing just fine. Things are looking up for the moment, some contract work has been offered, some good interviews have been...interviewed, and I'm feeling good. I even repainted my bedroom in nice soft peaceful bluegreen tones in case we have to sell the house and move for me to enjoy for years to come.