Google-icious

It's official. Dan got an offer from Google. He's planning on accepting this week. We're so grateful for the prayers of our friends and family.

Good Buy(ers)

Well, much to the astonishment of our friends, realtor and probably attorneys, we met our buyers last night. We wanted to show them around the place and ask them a few questions about settlement, etc. It was GREAT.

A few highlights of the evening were when the wife said she had a room exactly the color of the laundry room growing up and loved it. They also joked that they have some friends who are rehabbing a bungalow and they'll be very jealous when they see that this one is done already.

They're a lovely young couple from the city and they're tired of the traffic. The husband works in Warrenville/Winfield and the wife is planning on working out here, so it makes sense for them to be here. We gave them an hour long tour of the house to show them the radon system, etc. Then we took them to Tate's Ice Cream to show them the downtown area.

Morgan was a pretty good host, save for the mini-tantrum she threw when a little kid dared to sit in a seat she deemed to be hers at Tate's. Not sure if he finished his ice cream or was annoyed by her loud wails, but he left pretty soon after and our daughter was happy. Funny little kid.

At the end of the evening, we had a few laughs about the negotiations, about how our realtors were hesitant for us to meet in case the deal fell through. We actually thought it would be fun to be neighbors with each other, it was that fun.

Dan and I climbed into bed that night with light hearts. "You know, Em," he said, "the timing of selling this house was not ideal for us, but it probably answered their prayer."

Pineapple Hands

Morgan had just finished eating her pineapple for lunch and enjoyed it thoroughly. Showing us her dripping wet juicy hands, she announces comically, "Who wants this in their hair?"

Morganisms

Morgan: "Hey, Mom, do you love me more than mustard?"

Emily: "Mustard?"

Morgan: "Yes, do you love me more than mustard?"

Emily: "Yes."

Morgan: "How about mirrors? Do you love me more than mirrors?"

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I was reading a Bible story book to Morgan. The book asked, "Do you love God?" Forgetting that I forbid Morgan to not say the name of God (you'll recall her various uses of God's name) I read exactly what the book said, "Do you love God?"

Without missing a beat, Morgan said, "Well, I'm not allowed to say that word, but I love Jesus."

Tattoo

(Click on the photo to see the detail better.)


It has become apparent to me that Morgan loves symmetry. This past week she received a sticker set which she was supposed to apply to a paper doll. She put them EXACTLY symmetrically across from each other. If one hand got a sticker, the other hand did as well. It was scary- mostly because I tend to design assymetrically and Dan prefers symmetry. I'm outnumbered.

But this photo of Morgan is a good illustration of how she enjoys symmetry. My mother gave her some temporary tattoos for Easter. They were Easter themed. Morgan wanted a rose applied to her skin. She insisted on having it placed exactly between her nipples on her chest. She was very proud of it. She didn't want to wear a shirt, but since it was still chilly out, I compromised and let her wear a hoodie without an undershirt. As you can see, she still managed to let us see her tattoo all day.

This is not... I repeat... this is NOT a preview of her teenage years. My daughter will be more modestly clad.

Mommy's Little Helper

Why is it that I have to remind Morgan every time she uses the bathroom to "flush the toilet and wash your pee-pee hands"? And why is it that the ONE time I didn't want her to flush the toilet that she did?

Without getting too graphic, yesterday Morgan produced a doozie. I left the underwear on the side of the toilet while I went to find a bucket. There was a flush and an ear piercing shreak followed by wails. I immediately knew the entire story. The little underpants didn't have a chance with the toilet's mighty current. My daughter garbled cry was hard to understand but I got the gist: "Make them come back! I flushed my pull-ups in the potty!"

Like most selfish parents, my main concern was not with the distress of my daughter, but the plumber's inevitable bill. My gut wrenched. Fortunately, the toilet seemed to work really well (and still does) and still will, God willing. It was only after considering the health of the potty that I calmed down my wailing daughter. I gave her a nice bath, a small chide and a big smile. "It's okay, Morgan. We'll get you new underpants."

Jack Daniels

My husband is so busy that he doesn't have time to blog. What's more, he probably shouldn't blog about work related issues. But since I'm his wife, no one at work would suspect my blog for good BP fodder.

Since this is a public-ish site, I should probably use some different names. My husband, let's call him "Dan", was at work when he got an email from HR asking BP employees to nominate a favorite person from BP. Some kind of rewards/recognition deal. My quick witted husband immediately thought of an individual to thank: Jack Daniels. He began to construct some imaginary essay about how Mr. Daniels helped him in the off hours after a hard day of work.

Being his wife, however, I know that Dan prefers beer (mostly imported) to hard whiskey. Besides, whiskey conjures thoughts of good old boys, dirt roads, barefoot & pregnant women, southern accents and rotund older gentlement with those funny Mr. Colonel neckties. You know the ones. My husband is NOT whiskey. He is Heineken, Sam Adams or Grolsch. (Side note: Am I the only one who feels like I am dry heaving when I say the name "Grolsch"?) Point is: he is a beer guy.

In any case, this husband of mine keeps me in stitches. He has to use humor to keep up the remaining shreds of gainful-employment he feels as BP. If you find some funny Dilbert-esque encouragement, send it his way. I'd hate for Mr. Daniels to start making a visit.