Save the TaTas!

Do you know how much gossip can be covered in 91 miles? A HELLUVA LOT. As many of you know, I have a team that’s heading up to Dallas in November to walk in the Susan G Komen 3-Day Breast Cancer walk. It’s 60 miles over 3 days, which requires training. A lot of training. We started our official training schedule 5 weeks ago. So far, so good. We walk 4 days a week and are averaging about 18 miles a week right now, for a total of 91 miles so far. 18 miles a week is going to seem easy once the schedule requires 18 miles in one day. And you can only imagine the amount of gossip that’s covered when walking with 6 other women 4 times a week. At times it’s overwhelming, and to be honest, just plain jaw-dropping.

We set some ground rules for the walk up front. Well, just 2 rules: Leave the tudes at home and bring the gossip with you! And so far, no one has disappointed. I could probably start a local gossip blog and become famous around the streets of G-Town.

I’m not sure how much of the walk I’ll be able to do in November, seeing as I’ll be 8 months pregnant and huge, but for now, I’m continuing to train and raise money. So far, we’ve raised $11,600! We have a few more fundraising ideas up our sleeves for the summer, and then it’s down to business in the fall before we head up for the event.

If any of you know this group, you know that the best way for us to celebrate a good workout is with an adult beverage! There’s nothing better to nurse the blisters and sore muscles with than a cold beer (O’Douls in my case, which is ZERO fun but it does the trick)! If we just burned 400 calories, why not!

Sorry for the cheese

This is not my typical blog post. It belongs on someone else's blog that's so boring you'd fall asleep reading it. A blog that someone created because they think people really care about what they do every day and what they eat for dinner. It doesn't really belong on my blog, but here goes.

I was making breakfast this week, my typical english muffin with PB&J that I eat every. single. day. And when I took the top off of the jelly jar, I was greeted with this:


My Four Fruits Preserves was smiling at me, saying good morning Mimi!! Hope you have a fabulous day! And it made me smile.

I promise not to bore you with anymore of these types of posts, unless of course, I see Jesus in my english muffin tomorrow.

A Swollen What?

This past weekend, the Burleson clan made a quick trip down to the wonderful city of Corpus Christi for a concrete, plaster, and lathe convention. Sounds like a load of fun, huh? Chip (Will's brother) was the only lucky one that didn’t have to trek down to that awful excuse of a “beach-town.” That will be my first and last trip there. Ever.

Aside from the surroundings, the weekend wasn’t too bad. And in typical Mimi and Will fashion, there were a few exciting things that happened.

We ended up sharing a room with Jake and Mary (Will's youngest brother and his fiance). I wasn’t looking forward to that, being the only one that couldn’t drink on this trip, but it turns out that it provided me with a lot of entertainment. On Friday morning, Jake woke up and went into the bathroom. He immediately came back out, sat on the side of the bed, and said, “I think something is wrong with me.” (This story could go in so many different directions from here.) Well, the thing that hangs down in the back of the throat is apparently called a uvula, which sounds much more like a girl-part than something that helps you from regurgitating your food, and Jake’s was swollen. I’m not talking about a little swollen, it hurts when you swallow, give me some Tylenol swollen. I’m talking about SWOLLEN. Someone grabbed my uvula and pulled it out of my mouth and stretched it across the room SWOLLEN. This thing was HUGE, and it was so long that it rested on the top of his tongue, like a basset hound’s ears.

Of course, I panicked, and immediately starting googling to find out what in the world he needed to do. And I came across this site. Really? Someone has created a blog for swollen uvulas? And he’s asking for donations to the “poor dude?” Well, his description of Jake’s activities the night before was right on…drinking, smoking, and snoring PROFUSELY ALL NIGHT. The more I read, the more we laughed, and then I got to the comments. I couldn’t believe the number of people who thanked this “poor dude” from saving them from a trip to the ER.

Like all of the other Swollen Uvula readers, we took his advice and ordered ice cream from room service, and then sent Jake on his way to the first session of the day – SubContractors: Your Blood, Their Glory!

The only other highlight of the weekend was the Texas State Aquarium gift shop, where Will found a 1987 flashdance top and proceeded to play dress up.

Master Bedroom

When we first moved into our house, our bedroom had 5 doorways in it. FIVE. We had 2 doors to the bathroom, which was nice if you had to go really bad. We had one door to the hallway, another to the laundry room, and the 5th was to the hot water heater. Combine this with a wall of three windows, and what you have is called a cluster.

My goal with the bedroom, besides removing 60% of the doorways, was to have a grown-up bedroom. I'm in my 30's and expecting a child. I've got all of the makings of a grown-up. It makes perfect sense. Well, let me tell you. This is not an easy task.

It took me 2 years to pick out a bed and another 8 months to pick out the bedding. Then I had to find an armoire for the tv and grown-up things to hang on the walls. Thank goodness there's no such thing as an "middle-aged" room. I don't think I can do this again.

BEFORE (way before, right when we moved into the house in 2003)

AFTER

I never thought I'd say this...

I’m wearing my first maternity jeans this week, and let me tell you – LUVIN IT! I have no idea why these things aren’t available for all women, not just the ones that get knocked up and go thru 9 months of standing in their closets trying to figure out what the hell is going to fit them that day. I think I need to contact the designer jean companies and express my ideas. It should be a standard choice that you get to make when shopping for jeans. Do you want the ‘low-rise-my stomach is going to hang over and my ass crack is going to fall out” fit, or would you like the “perfect” fit, with a comfortable stretch material at the top instead of the cut-into-your-skin-waistband. I think I would be considered a hero of sorts, don’t you think? I bet Oprah would even call me to be a guest on her show. You KNOW she’d love these.

There’s a prize in every box

You never know what you are going to get when you visit my blog these days. Are you going to hear about the house, the baby, or Crackhead Neighbor? Well today, it’s Crackhead Neighbor. And I’m sure you are all SO EXCITED!!

I’m sad to report that after 2 years of living behind me, she has decided to move. This weekend, Crackhead, Husband, and 13 year old daughter (that I had NO IDEA existed but has apparently been living there for 2 years) are moving into a nice house “like white people have.” We had a great conversation though, so I feel like she’s leaving on a good note.


Crackhead: Amy! Amy! Can I have that big box that you are carrying into your house full of stuff?

Mimi: Sure. But I’ll have to unload it all first. And that might take days.

Crackhead: That’s okay. I’ll just wait right here and watch out my front window for you.

Mimi: Are you moving?

CH: Oh yes. Amy! You are not going to believe it. Father-in-law bought us a house. (note – she calls people by their title, not their name)

Mimi: Oh wow. That was really nice of him.

CH: Oh Amy! You aren’t going to believe it. He’s rich! I met him for the first time last month and he has a really nice house. It’s like 300 million dollars, like white people have.

Mimi: You just met him for the first time? How long have you been married?

CH: 18 years. But see Amy, last weekend, the po-lice knocked on my door looking for Husband to take him to jail. And I told them that when he got home from work, I’d bring him up to jail for them. So, when Husband got home, I told him we were going to the Dollar Store, and then I took him to jail!

Mimi: So, your husband is in jail?

CH: Oh Amy, no! He was in jail over the weekend. See, he had like 5 years of unpaid parking tickets and I told him that he better get that taken care of, so I took him to jail! And then when he got out, he took me to Father-in-Laws. And Father-in-law told me that I had finally made a real man out of his son, so he was going to buy us a house! Because, you see, in 18 years, we never asked him for money, because I have a real good job, like you white people.

Mimi: (total silence with jaw on the ground)

CH: So, me and my daughter, we’re packing up.

Mimi: You have a daughter? That lives with you? In that house, right there?

CH: Yep, she’s 13, but she stays inside. She’s like me. See, I’m real slow a lot, and I have a learning…dis…um….a learning thing.

Mimi: Disability?

CH: Yes! Disability. And, I have Bi-Polo.

Mimi (Trying not to laugh….and wondering WHY IN THE HELL I continue to ask this woman questions, but then I think, this is JUST SO DANG FUNNY!): So, how’s your puppy?

CH: Oh Amy! He pees everywhere. And I keep telling Husband that we need to go to Petsmart like the white people do and get him potty trained!

Mimi: Um, yeah, so… good luck with the move! See-ya!


Boy will I miss that woman!

Baby pics

9 weeks:

13 weeks: