This explains why I didn't major in math

An anonymous source is reporting that I allegedly turned 34 last week (I can neither confirm nor deny that rumor...) And while it's a little older than I would like to be right now, I'm way too busy with FunnyKid to think, let alone worry about how old I'm getting.

So everything was fine and I went along through the day feeling no older than I had the day before. Until kat's lil brother took me out to lunch for my birthday and casually asked, "So what do you want to do for your 35th birthday next year?"

Wait, what?!? 35? Is it possible I'm almost 35?!? That's, like, mid-thirties. Which is-- gulp-- almost 40. I can't possibly be almost 35, can I?

Who needs wi-fi when your sister sits in front of a computer all day anyway?

Texts between KAT's lil bro and I:

Bro: Can you look up the chevy dealership in or around [town he's in] for me? and send the address and phone number?

Me: Chevy dealership. Main Street, local town. 555-555-5555.

Bro: Thanks. now can you call stop and shop, the nearest one to the statue of liberty and order a cake that says congrats on the new fish tank figurine? thanks

Me: I'm sorry, you must have me confused with your secretary. I'm filling in while she's on her lunch break, but I'm not authorized to make long distance calls in her absence (BTW, I can't believe you took the time to type that whole thing out!)

Bro: Can you do me a solid though. look up the numbers for [second Chevy dealership] and [third Chevy dealership]?

Me: Second Chevy dealership: 555-555-6666. Third Chevy dealership: 555-555-7777.

Bro: Thanks. I don't know why people pay for phone internet. they must not have family.

Me: Or at least family as accommodating as your favorite sister, right? RIGHT?!?

Bro: Wow... I yelled at myself in my head when I read that. you're good

You know it's bad when you're more emotional than the pregnant chick

Kat's lil bro is a big dude who wears steel-toed boots and sometimes makes crude jokes (he's a firefighter, so I think that comes with the territory). And, despite being raised with (or, by) two older sisters, he's one of the least emotional guys you'd ever want to meet. Looking for a tear in his eye the first time he meets his nephew? Not going to happen. Want some sympathy when you break a bone/ get fired/ lose money in a Nigerian Internet scheme? He's more likely to call you an idiot.

Don't get me wrong, lil bro is a good guy. But he's a guy nonetheless. Which is what makes this next story so ironic.

Lil bro bought a house that year that has an in-ground pool. It was late in the season when he moved in and it didn't get a lot of use. Well, this year, the whole family can't wait for him to get it opened and running because a.) he-- and the pool-- are within a short drive for us and b.) he doesn't care if we use it as long as we leave any extra beer we brought in his fridge (he's easy-going like that).

But the family is waiting for the pool to be opened because... some frogs laid eggs in the water on the pool cover and lil bro is insisting we wait until the tadpoles mature before evicting them and taking off the pool cover.

I was speaking to lil bro yesterday trying to figure out how long it would be before I can haul my pregnant body over to his house and dunk it in the pool for sweet, sweet relief from the summer heat. He started talking about the growth period for tadpoles and other such facts.

"Wait, did you research this?" I asked.

"Yes, I need to know how long before they're big enough to get out of the water," he said.

"Do you think their growth is more important than your comfort?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Well," I replied. "It's not more important than mine. The pregnant lady needs the pool!"

(I offered to let lil bro collect all the tadpoles and let them loose in our pond, but it led to a discussion about their predators and other facts I had no interest in learning. Somehow, I think the frogs are going to win this one while I make do with a squirt bottle and a fan.)

What? Some families have quiet meals together that were planned in advance? That's so weird.

I thought I was headed home yesterday to hang out with the dogs, make dinner for the Pretend Husband and hang out until we went to bed. That was, until I got a phone call from my dad while on my commute home. One thing led to another, which led to another, which led to me picking up the dogs and deciding to go visit my brother and his house, neither of whom I've seen in awhile.

My brother was a bit weirded out when I called to say I was on my way over and was convinced I was going over to break some bad news to him in person or something. But really, I wanted to see his house before his kitchen gets remodeled today and I thought it would be nice to drop by on him, like he sometimes does to us. And so, lil bro said I could come, but added, "Bring food." (I wasn't offended because I know where his priorities lie. I also wasn't going to bring him anything because I was already on my way and there are no stores between our houses).

Then my dad got involved again and offered to bring over a pizza and wings to lil bro's house if the PH agreed to meet us there. I would get to see lil bro's house, the dogs could all play together, my brother would get his food and we could catch up. It sounded like a good idea-- until lil bro pointed out the fact that his kitchen is undergoing a renovation so he had no table, no way of washing plates after we used them and nothing for anyone to drink.

After a flurry of phone calls, we got the PH rerouted to my dad's house, had my brother agree to pick up the food my dad had ordered and we all made our way to my dad's house since it was the closest place with both chairs to sit on and plates that could be washed after we used them.

A few minutes after the PH and I arrived at my dad's house, my brother came strolling in-- with three pizzas and two containers of buffalo wings. We all looked at my dad like he was crazy as lil bro said, "Why'd you order so much food?"

We're still not completely sure what happened, but we pieced together that my dad had a few drinks in him when he called the restaurant, the man taking the order didn't understand English well and my dad had started the conversation off with "I need three items" (which may have gotten translated to "three pizzas"). The four of us did our best to eat two large pizzas, one medium and 24 buffalo wings while mocking my dad mercilessly about how he managed to order $66 worth of food for four people.

Not quite the quiet night I imagined but, then again, whenever my family gets involved, it's rarely the experience I think it's going to be anyway. I'm just glad I wasn't the one who agreed to pick up the pizzas and got stuck with the big bill.

Yes, you got it down. No, you did not do it intelligently.

One of the caveats that came with the house and property we bought from my dad is the large number of trees that my dad planted more than 30 years ago that have since taken over the yard. They are mostly huge, huge, huge evergreen trees (you know the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center each year? these are too big to qualify...)

While we're not huge fans of the trees that ring the property, there are two in particular that have been the bain of our existence because one is planted in the center of the front yard (blocking the house) and the other is planted in the center of the backyard (blocking the yard from the house). The Pretend Husband and I have always talked about getting them taken down in both a "wouldn't it be nice if we had some extra money and could hire a tree service?" kind of way (me) and a "I bet I could get a couple of buddies over here and take them down" kind of way (him).

While I tend to plot and plan, the PH can be a mite more impulsive, as evidenced by the phone call I got on a Friday afternoon announcing that he and kat's lil bro had been text messaging and decided they were going to take down the tree in the front yard. When I couldn't convince the PH it might not be a good idea to undertake such a big project without any idea how to even begin, I pulled lil bro aside and said, "I expect you to be the voice of reason. If you guys don't know how to do this without sending the tree into the house, don't go through with it." His response was, "How hard can it be?"

Which is how, within minutes, my brother was cutting a notch on one side of the tree while the PH stayed out of the way (I think he figured, if he didn't physically handle the chainsaw, he wouldn't be responsible for the tree crashing into the second floor of our house). So, the tree was notched on the side the guys wanted it to fall on, the wood was cleared out of the notch and... nothing happened. The tree didn't move.

My brother continued cutting until the chainsaw got stuck and turned off, which is when... we heard a crack... and the tree started moving... toward me, who was standing in front of our garage (so, it didn't fall directly toward the house at least, but still not in the direction it was supposed to go).

I ran, kat's lil bro ran from where he was at the base of the tree and the PH stood out of range staring in a horrified manner as the tree fell-- in the exact opposite direction from where the guys had planned for it to fall.

Luckily, it missed everything (our house, the garage, my dad's cannons, cars passing by the road, Molly and Casey) except two branches of another nearby tree. I spent the rest of the night saying to the PH, "You guys are soooo lucky. So lucky." And he responded, "It wasn't luck." To which I would reply, "It wasn't luck? Then what was it? Because it sure wasn't skill!"

Yes, I'm grateful for the new and improved view from our front door. No, I will not be letting the PH, kat's lil bro and their mighty chainsaw near the tree in the backyard. Some things-- like someone who knows how to send a tree in the direction it's intended-- are worth paying for.

Kind of like a holiday newsletter, but with a lot less bragging and a little more laughter

I'm still getting back into the swing of things at work and haven't been able to come up with one holiday story that summed up the whole experience, so you get some tidbits from the entire celebration. Think of it like a huge platter of Christmas cookies and you can pick and choose between all the good ones...

* Speaking of Christmas cookies, I baked my butt off in the week before Christmas. I was just in the mood to do it. Plus, I got SJ to agree she could concentrate on cooking and would take half of the cookies I made, so that gave me even more incentive. After all our holiday parties, filled with platters of peanut butter balls, sugar cookies, corn flake wreaths, molasses cookies, Hershey kiss peanut butter cookies and Galaxy Cookies, we headed over to SJ's house for Boxing Day festivities. I had two thoughts: "Thank goodness someone else is hosting" and "I'm so ready for some different cookies!" Then I walked into SJ's dining room to find a platter of... because I had done SJ's baking... peanut butter balls, sugar cookies, corn flake wreaths, molasses cookies, Hershey kiss peanut butter cookies and Galaxy Cookies.

* After spending Christmas Eve Day cleaning our house and getting it set up to have 11 people at Christmas dinner, we ended up with 12. I quietly set another place for the guest we had invited but kat's lil bro didn't tell me was coming because I didn't want her to feel unwelcome or uncomfortable. But lil bro let the cat out of the bag by loudly telling her, "They didn't know you were coming!" Despite my best efforts, Christmas dinner was a little uncomfortable for everyone.

* At the end of Christmas Day, after a full day of eating, drinking, opening presents, talking and cleaning, the Pretend Sister-in-Law and I took the dogs for a walk. We got home and I thought, "I can't wait to go to bed." I thought it was almost 9 p.m. Yeah, it was only 6:30. I managed to stay up for a couple more hours... but just barely.

* I got a Snuggie for Christmas (you know, that fleece blanket/robe). Except it's a knock-off Snuggie that doesn't actually close in the back. So it's basically a blanket with two arms sewed onto it. And it feels like a hospital gown because I'm constantly trying to keep it closed in back.

* New slogan in the FunnyGal Kat household: It's not Christmas until one of the dogs is wearing antlers.

Because marriage is not all love and roses (sometimes it entails discussions of bathroom functions...)

My brother warned the Pretend Husband about the meat sauce. He told him that it was delicious, but he would be burping and-- ahem-- farting for quite a while after eating it. Which, as I can attest after getting into bed with the PH last night-- is entirely true.

Kat's lil bro text messaged the PH this morning to see if they were both experiencing the same symptoms and the answer was "yes." Which didn't stop the PH from having more of the meat sauce for lunch today. Which then led to the PH sending me this email:

Don't yell at me... By the time you see me tonight, there will be buffalo wings and meat sauce brewing. So, if it is an unpleasant evening, it is not my fault.

It so happens that someone gave me a box of chocolates today. And the chocolates were sugar-free (which I've heard can mess with one's gastrointestinal system) AND they seemed a bit old. So I sent an email back to the PH warning him my stomach might not be right either. (We are so romantic, aren't we?)

His response was: That's ok. I will shoot an email to the dogs and give them the heads up. It is only fair.

Too bad, because I was planning to surprise each of you with something you would have loved...

Saturday, the Pretend Husband, the Pretend Father-in-Law and I spent three hours painting the biggest room in my brother's new house tan. Sunday, we spent three hours painting the biggest room in my brother's new house blue-gray.

Kat's lil bro has been incredibly busy lately (like working multiple 24-hour shifts at his job, which basically means working days at a time) and needs to get his house into good enough shape to move into it when his rental lease ends. So the family has been pitching in and doing work, buying some of the items he needs and giving lil bro more advice than he will ever use.

Last week, lil bro asked me to go to the tile store and pick out the tile for his bathroom remodel. And I was all set to do it, but then I chickened out and made him come with me during the few hours he had off one afternoon. Because, as much experience as I have with remodeling and as well as I know my brother, I was not ready for the responsibility of picking out hundreds of dollars worth of (non-returnable) tile for a bathroom he would have to live with.

And it's a good thing he went with me because, out of the two colors of tile we both liked, he chose the one I wouldn't have (I would have chosen the other one only because it was half as expensive, but I agree he got the better of the two colors).

But, even with that experience, I agreed to pick out paint for the family room. I had a long conversation with lil bro about his preferences ("I don't care as long as it's neutral") and got warnings from the PH ("You like dark colors. Don't go too dark. He likes the color we had in our old living room"). And when I got to Home Depot, I chose a shade of brown that was sort of dark, but still much lighter than anything I would have picked out for my house. And, when they were unable to mix that color in a five-gallon quantity, I agreed to go even lighter, ending up with a very light tan...

... that had a peach tinge to it when we got it on the wall. But we wanted to surprise lil bro with a completed room so we painted the whole room anyway (and it's a big room-- it used to be a two-car garage, to give you an idea of how much wall space we had to cover). And when lil bro saw it on Sunday morning, he hated it. He thought it looked peachy. And better yet, I showed him the color I intended to get him (the one the PH, my dad and the Pretend Father-in-Law all said was way too dark and good thing I didn't get it), he said he would have preferred it.

So, off to Home Depot the lil bro and I went, returning not with a darker shade of brown, but an entirely different color altogether. And we spent yesterday afternoon repainting the very room we spent the day before painting (so it's kind of like we did nothing at all on Saturday).

And that's why I will not be trying to surprise anyone by doing something nice for them. Nor will I be shopping for lil bro's house by myself (although I'm happy to to help paint with whatever colors he chooses). But I'm not making decisions or buying anything non-returnable. Pretty much, it's the last time I try to do anything nice for anyone ever again (or at least until my back stops aching from a weekend of work).

Tidbits: when there isn't enough for a full post

* As though life isn't exciting enough with the Pretend Husband starting his own business and kat's lil sis starting a second child, kat's lil bro had to get into the action by getting deep into the home buying process (he doesn't like it when I tell people he bought a house because it hasn't been finalized yet). When he made the offer, the PH told me I was forbidden to even pick up a paintbrush at lil bro's house until our house was done. He came home to find me painting the bedroom the next day and we rolled out the paint in the family room two days after that. I will not be thwarted in my quest to decorate lil bro's house.

* Do you think it's an indication I have a problem when I come close to finishing the renovations of one house and immediately start trying to figure out how to buy another one that needs work? I mean, just as we finished our first house, we bought the second and now that the second is almost done, lil bro has one ready for me to work on. The PH says we're not buying a third house when lil bro's is done. I may just have to start flipping houses to satisfy this weird urge of mine. Unless SJ is ready to buy a house and let me decorate it...

* Remember the guy who works for me who cannot get my name right? He happened to mention a few weeks ago that he drove by the office and didn't see my car (little creepy because he has not reason to be driving by and it's not even close to being on the way to anything...) Well, he upped the creepiness factor the other day when he stopped by my office and said, "Did you get a new car?" I had driven my brother's car to work that day, but I just said, "no." Then he replied, "Oh, because I thought I saw your license plate on another car." What?!? I'm not sure I even know my license plate number, so why in the world does this guy?!?

Since when does "cheap crap" not include balloons and party hats?

We had a surprise dinner for my dad's birthday the other night (at the Chinese buffet... because we're classy like that). When we got to the restaurant, I was lamenting the fact that I hadn't had time to pick up some party hats and balloons for our little group (because the only thing classier than celebrating a birthday at the Chinese buffet is looking like an idiot while you do it). My little brother (who is actually more than six-and-a-half feet tall) offered to run into the discount place next door and buy hats.

Lil' bro comes running in a few minutes later without hats or balloons and starts to bitch about what happened.

"So, I walk into the store and there's color everywhere! And of course nothing is organized, so I walk up to the woman at the front and say, 'Do you have party hats?' and she looks at me like I just asked the most inappropriate question ever and says, 'Party hats?' I say, 'Yes, hats you would wear for a party?' and she says, with the biggest attitude, 'If you want party hats, you're going to have to go to one of those party stores.'" (Oh yes, because apparently a party store is the only kind of place that would carry party supplies... because you can't find that stuff in a Wal-Mart or a Target or almost any other discount store, oh no)

So lil' bro goes running through the store ("I covered that place in about 45 seconds.") but, to his chagrin, "There was nothing, not even a tiara I could make Dad wear."

We are still wondering how the discount place doesn't carry party supplies, but as one of our friends pointed out, "How much can you discount a 39-cent balloon?" So, Dad didn't get a ridiculous hat to wear for his birthday, but the Chinese buffet staff made up for it by playing a version of Happy Birthday on the restaurant sound system that sounded like it was being sung by a Mexican Mariachi band. And if that doesn't say, "Dad, we love you and hope this was the best birthday yet," I don't know what does.