The Latta Family

I don't have to worry about tolerating some new girlfriend of Andrew's.  I don't have to go through that awkward stage of checking her out and deciding whether or not I approve of her.  He'll never keep a girl long enough, to get to the "Meet My Parents" Stage. See now-a-days, they conduct a lot of that early communicating stuff with texts.  Andrew is a horrific texter.  He'll create- unintentionally- all kinds of drama, and every girl will dump him. I got this text today.  He wanted to know if I could figure out what he meant. The first part of that text sequence is from over a week ago.  I literally have no idea what he was talking about with "Doug gazing him out."   I included that in this screen shot because I wanted you to see that over a week ago- I criticized his spelling.   Today he sent me the "U emoji 2 fat"  What does that mean?  I have too much junk in my trunk?  I'm too fat?  I'm big like a yellow taxi

I enjoy sewing.  Am I great at it?  Nope.  I do enjoy it though.  The satisfaction of completing a project.  Picking out the fabric for a project.  Deciding on a project . . . I just love it. My grandmothers sewed.  In fact, I have one of my grandmother's sewing machines. My mother-in-law sews and my mother sews.  She sewed the one and only prom dress I wore (I went once. In 10th grade.  It was somewhat traumatic: not in a "I was actually scarred for life" kind of way.  More like, "My God that sucked and at least I now know."  I never went again.  No amount of friend cajoling, or boys asking could change my mind.)  Anyway- my mother sewed, my grandmothers sewed.  The first sewing project I did was to make a pair of shorts.  I remember doing this with my Girl Scout Troop.  I have no idea how those leaders kept their sanity with a room full of upper elementary girls learning to sew.  I think we actually used patterns to design them.  We used machines at a local

Last night before I went to sleep, I did one last Facebook check, just in case anything really exciting had been posted.  Someone had posted a video montage of kids getting scared of animals.  I watched it and laughed like crazy.  I was crying, I was laughing so hard.  Oh my gosh!!! Kids running away from baby ducks is hilarious!!!  I laughed so hard- Doug told me to simmer down.  So . . . around 3 am I had this really bizarre dream.  I was giving a friend a ride home.  Right before she gets out of the car, she says, "Oh yeah- I'm going to return this little friend I somehow picked up from the last time I was in your car."  When she said, "little friend" I started to panic a little.  Just something about that word told me I wasn't going to like what she got out of her purse.  She turns her purse over, and dumps out this teeny tiny mouse.  I hate mice, so I'm trying to get out of the car as fast as I can, but not fast enough.  That stupid mouse is runni

One day this week a miracle occurred.  This happened: My counter is cleaned off.  There is nothing there, but the lone candle.   This spot is a dumping ground.  Everyone of us walks in, from the garage, and dumps whatever we have in our hands- right there.  No matter that it's the kitchen counter.  That doesn't stop some of us from putting our sports cup (that is worn in his pants) there, or whatever other gross item.  It goes there, in that spot.  I do it too (Well, not the cup.  I don't do that).  I come home from school and dump my lunchbox, purse, and mail there- in that circled spot.  When I finally got that spot cleaned off, I felt such a sense of productivity and accomplishment!  I mean- it looks like a real kitchen counter!!! The feeling was fleeting- because 1 day later- it looks like this: Oh well- the house is lived in- and that's what makes it home. 

From November 1- December 1 I LOVE Christmas.  I spend November 1- Thanksgiving anxiously awaiting the music, the food, the decorations.   I love looking at Pinterest and getting ideas for how I'll decorate this year. I like to decorate my house.  I like having it feel cozy and homey.  Nothing like Christmas lights to do just that. I make myself wait until Thanksgiving before listening to the music or decorating.  It's one of the few times in my life when I actually have self discipline.  I tell myself I am waiting until Thanksgiving because that's the actual start date, and that's the rule. But deep down I know that if I start too early- I'll be completely and thoroughly sick of Christmas, by December 10.  After Thanksgiving, I am thinking about Christmas presents and shopping.  Depending on our financial situation- I'm feeling good . . . or bad.  I'm either shopping and loving it- or dreading it.  I'm also thinking about the Christmas card.  Do I b

Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.  He has it so good, and he doesn't even know.  He can't appreciate just how good he has it.  We went to the grocery store today.  Andrew was pumped.  It's new, and we were there to get subs.  His experience was ruined.  RUINED.  He saw one of his teachers.  One of his teachers, he really doesn't want his mom to see.  One of his teachers, that doesn't think he's quite as cute, as she should.  He spent the entire trip dodging and ducking her.  It was HILARIOUS.  (In all serious, my favorite part was when he saw her initially, and said, "Oh no!  Mrs. ___ is here!  I'll avoid her.  It shouldn't be too hard, she'll probably go to the wine section.  I bet all of my teachers drink a lot of wine."  (Amen to that!) Thankfully, Andrew was with me.  If he had been with my dad . . .  well- it would have been worse.  My dad used to LOVE to embarrass me.  Like- EMBARRASS.  A good friend of mine lived next door to the cutest bo