Look Mom, no hands!

This afternoon I watched a helmetless motorcycle driver navigate several miles of accident traffic on I-35. Pretty much one-handed, but sometimes no-handed. He talked on his phone. He mopped his brow. He smoked. He fiddled with the controls. And he swerved - a lot.

The fact he stayed upright impressed me. His decision making skills, not so much.

Still needing Mom at 43

I must be in a mood. The human race is irritating me. Didn't everyone get the memo about doing it my way?

So my mom reminded me yesterday (as she frequently does) that not everyone thinks the way I do. And then she fed me beef and noodles for dinner. Which she made while watching my kids all day. And everything was better.

Toot, toot

It's not often I feel nostalgic about college life. But today, driving through Ames on a beautiful Friday afternoon, I passed some young people. They were sitting outside a house in their lawn chairs, playing games, and having fun. Their sign: You honk, we drink. And I thought about how much I miss the days when options were plentiful but responsibilities few.

Until I arrived home and was greeted by the hoop-lahs. And I realized that no matter how much they're hoop-lah'ing, there's nowhere else I'd rather be.

Hoop-lah goes deep

Why do people lie about things that don't matter?

Hoop-lah all wet, version 2

Nobody told me it was 70s Day at the pool. Had I known, I would have worn my fringed bikini. Among the splashers was a young man with sideburns bushier than bushy. And two girls with such amazing afros that they made the cast of Good Times look like amateurs.

It was also Make Hoop-lah Blush Day. One man had on a Speedo so small I'm certain the circulation to his brain was affected. Which explains the Speedo. And then there was the young couple in the grass. Making out. Near children. Near me. Yuck.

Metabolism envy

Today for breakfast Riley ate three eggs, waffles, an English muffin with peanut butter, a bowl of cereal, and two glasses of orange juice. He'll eat again in an hour, guaranteed.

I ate half a bowl of cereal. Guess who will gain weight.

Just call me Jeff

As promised, it's a bonus post. Control your excitement!

Everyone here, except Scott, has a nickname. Mine is Jeff, or Geoff if you're feeling fancy. Riley's is Rhonda or Roo-ski. Carly's is Car-Car or Carlu-ski. And sometimes Mittens. C.C.'s is -- well C.C., although somtimes we call her Dishwasher. And Mike? He's Mikey Moo.

Scott, however, has resisted all attempts to give him a nickname. We've tried Scooter and Bab-bie and Daddy-son. He doesn't like any of them. So tonight we told him to pick his own. Big Dog. Someone analyze that for me. Woof.

The hoop-lah is daily, just not always repeatable

I think I've set myself up for failure.

I'm already slacking on "The Daily Hoop-lah." A total oxymoron. But I vow to do better blog reader. To prove my dedication, tonight I'll give you two posts. At no extra charge. Because I'm all about bargains.

Tonight's special - naked dining

Last night at Red Lobster I told Scott that I needed to go to the mall for makeup. Which led Riley, panicked, to say, "You're naked?"

Always at dinner. Always.

And because I know you care . . . worst garage sale ever. EVER! So much for my vacation fund.

And my snuggle bunny is back. Yippee!

Tornado with purchase - no extra charge

Not many garage salers today. The tornado sirens slowed them down. Chickens.

But some memorable people have stopped by. Like the little boy who asked me at least five times why I have so much junk. And the elderly couple who argued over a $4 purchase. And the man who took the pogo stick for a test run on the driveway.

So here I sit, waiting and hoping sales pick up before closing time tomorrow.

At least I get the remote

My routine is out of whack.

Most nights, I head to bed with a certain little snuggle bunny. We watch a little TV, usually her choice. We fight over who gets to hold Hippo. She always wins. I say she hogs the bed (IS true). She says I snore (NOT true). Sometimes we fall asleep before Dad makes it upstairs, sometimes not.

But my snuggle bunny isn't here this week. And I miss her!

Isn't this South Beach?

The hoop-lahs looked at me like I was C-R-A-Z-Y when I came home with a flamingo.

He makes me happy - how can you not smile when you see him?

So go away rain. My flamingo needs some sun!

Looking for a bargain?

Riley and I cleaned his room tonight for this weekend's garage sale.

He got rid of a lot, but seemed uncertain about some old basketball shoes. So I told him to keep them if he wanted. He looked horrified and said, "No, I don't want to be a hoarder!"

I love you A&E!

I met this girl . . .

Mike always sleeps with his phone.

Because you never know when a cute kitten might call.

From criminal to crime fighter

Carly, to Scott after he told her to go to bed last night:

"Watch yourself copper."

I laughed for an hour.

If you don't get the headline, read the post from a few days back!

Beauty vs. baseball

A hoop-lah reality check today.

My brown-haired girl has asked for highlights for as long as I can remember. I've always said no, too expensive.

Today, on the way to get her hair cut, she said, "Can you tell me why I can't have highlights but you're always buying stuff for Riley's sports?"

Ouch. She is a kid who doesn't ask for much, so highlights wish granted. Best $25 I have spent in a long time. She is happy, happy.

Hoop-lah all wet

Hoop-lah went swimming today. Things I learned:

- 9-year-olds never get out unless they want something from the concession stand.

- 12-year-olds never get in. Too busy socializing.

- 43-year-olds pray for a little lightning.

Hoop-lah never pays

Recently, out of the blue, Carly said, "Has Dad ever been in prison?"

Huh?

Then a few days later she came home from the library with this:



Something tells me she's watching too much Law and Order.

Welcome to The Daily Hoop-lah.

And yes, I know Hoop-lah is not an actual word. But geez, all the gramatically correct Blogger web addresses are "unavailable". So I'm making this work.

Hoop-lah describes our life. Hope it brings you a smile occasionally, or at the least makes you glad you're not me.