Epic Embarrassing Night, Again, Enjoy

Yet another awesome moment for me as I love to provide entertainment for my friends in real time and then share them with my friends online.

Last night we went to a dinner party at our club, but really they sat tables up around the pool and tennis courts. It was a beautiful night. Perfect weather, they had live music and ice sculptures and shrimp cocktail, prime rib and even nachos.

You know that based on what I have said I must be beginning another story that includes an awkward Abbie moment. You so wont be disappointed. I went to this shindig knowing I was dressed up and in close proximity to water. This is why I walked ten feet away from the side of any pool. I know I have a mark on my head with these men. Any one of them would gain tremendous satisfaction of being the guy who tossed Abbie into the pool with her giant orange patent leather espadrille, wedge, platform shoes.

Here is the real deal. I can barely swim. I grew up with a 12 foot deep pool in my backyard and I still sink. I would not be able to swim at all with these giant wrap around and buckle orange cones around my ankles, they really are cute.

Here is my sweet niece in my orange summer shoes. She liked them enough she wanted her picture taken in them. We had so much fun playing with clothes when she came this summer.

Now mix in the fact that I have an undiscovered genetic disorder that makes me gasp for air when I am underwater and it would have been a trifecta of embarrassment when I sank to the bottom of the pool while holding my nose. There would be clapping and cheering while no one noticed I drowned.

They all “owe me one” for various stunts I have done to them, (read about me tipping over their canoes during river trip last month) and I know I have it coming but it cannot be in a pool during dinner and an ambulance call. That would be really embarrassing. Not as embarrassing as when I tackled one of the husbands on the golf course and put him in a headlock, in front of his wife and other men, (I am 5′ 3″) because he ran off with my golf cart key. I have told you, I am Monica Geller.

Here I am taking my picture with my teams winning score in golf.

There are probably more people that would like to toss me in that pool.

I didn’t even realize how easily I could outdo my pool fear in my head, and all alone while just standing. But I did.

Jim asked me to walk up into the tennis pavilion to take a look and help him pick out some golf shoes. The tennis pavilion is like a raised square gazebo. The golf shop set up a little display and the men were getting their party loot or swag.

I wasn’t really interested and he was trying on shoes and not listening to me when I said to pick out the cool looking ones. He was trying on the ones that looked like ever other pair he wears.

I am standing in the middle off all these tables with my super cute orange giant shoes that I knew ROCKED when one of our friends looked at them and said, “No one told me there would be hookers here.” I told him he was jealous and that if he was nice I would let him borrow them as I am sure he wears the same size as me.

Karma, Karma, Karma. As I am standing there and looking so sassy and smart in my hooker sandals I am holding a vodka-cranberry that I have not yet drank and I have my legs crossed at my ankles. Suddenly! an earthquake shook the tennis pavilion and a drunk golfer shoulder checked me.

OK, none of that happened. Go back to legs crossed at ankles. Giant platform heels, little girl (me) rocking ankle because she is bored looking at golf shoes that all look-alike because her husband is making her. Karma. My one ankle rolls but because my legs are crossed it sends my other leg off-center. I am holding my first FULL cup with ice and cocktail so I am concentrating on not spilling. As I am trying to correct my shift in center I yell, “oooohhh! OOO!” and then “AAAAHHHHHH” then you hear WAAAHHBBUMMPP!!! when my feet flew up higher that my waist and I land on my right tush SO HARD I roll up to my shoulder. There is cocktail and ice that rained down like ticker-tape to all four corners of the tennis shop turned golf store. I am laying on the ice and drink and in my white skirt with legs in the air and they are, of course, finally uncrossed. I look around and I have a circle of men around me looking down. One of them announced “Jim, at least she is wearing underwear tonight!”

I know Jim. His face tells me his instinct is to run like he doesn’t know me. It is like the time we were facing a skunk and he pushed me forward and ran in the house. But he didn’t, he helped pull my embarrassed butt up. He was impressed with how NOT graceful my Olympic falling moment was. I think that gets you more points in the falling Olympics. I am a gold winner!!!

I have a sore right hip today. I have ANOTHER “stupid Abbie story” and I have to go figure out what I did to pi$$ off Karma and make it right.

Really though I am so happy I didn’t get tossed in the pool, white skirt and pink underwear.

Have you had an epic fall? This one may tie with my bowling alley fall. I love telling that story! Wearing Other People’s Ugly Shoes. Ok, Wearing Other Peoples Ugly Shoes is funnier. Have you read both and which do you think is funnier?

Abbie Gale, allthatmakesyou.com

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Frog Hunting With Kids During Summer Evenings

Frog and toad hunting has been this weeks evening pastime.

It is HOT outside during the day and this gives our boys something fun to do when it cools off.

Access to ponds or creeks…We have both in our backyard and many more on the golf course across the street.

Transportation…We walk or use the critter mobile golf cart.

Lights…We use headlights and flashlights and even golf cart headlights.

Nets…Do we have nets!  We have short-handled and long-handled and large holed and small holed.  We are even willing to reach in.

My boys tell me this is a “smaller” bullfrog.

Container…We use a big tote.

Sense of humor…Peter likes to take “frog orders” before he heads out.  I say I would like a green tree frog and his brothers might say a bullfrog.  Peter especially likes to watch people open the tote and see how many he has brought home.  Below is poor Mitchell not expecting dad to pull giganto bullfrog out.

An ability to say goodbye…With the hopes of seeing you again in the pond behind our home.  This took years to perfect as saying goodbye to “caught critters” is very hard for little boys.

Peter may have been kissing this little guy on a dare from big brothers.  

Big brothers can be especially cantankerous.

Camera…It is much easier to say goodbye if you have a photo to remember your new friends.

Potato brush and soap…Have it at every entrance to the house for the “Frog Hunters” to use before entering their home!

Thanks for letting me share,

“All that makes you, smile, laugh, think, love, cry or cry laughing.”

-Abbie  allthatmakesyou.com

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The “Starving Season” has begun

My husband Jim calls this time of year the “Starving Season”.  It isn’t because I’m getting ready for swimsuit season it’s because I wont feed him!  Specifically, I won’t come in to make them all food to eat.  That is an actual picture from last night of our golf cart lighting up the flower bed so I could finish mulching.  No making fun of me for using the golf cart like a John Deer Gator.  I have been asking Santa for a Bobcat for years.

I am preoccupied with what is popping up in the yard, the smell of hyacinths, how many more leaves are on each tree compared to the day before, what to plant that can survive little boys walking on and riding their bikes across…

how to hunt down the person that came up with the idea of fiberglass pots and string them up by their toes…

how to grow giant carrots at your front door to use as Easter Bunny bait…

figuring out a way to have one pot of tulips on the kitchen table for weeks by planting them in the fall in inserts and in stages..

Look closely...

having what I need close by so there is no excuse for an unattractive flower…

how to bring as many flowers into the house because eventually it will rain and I will have to come inside.

It all comes down to when I will feed these boys, (I am including my husband in this brood.)  I have a seven year old that is talking about dinner as we’re eating breakfast.  I just found out that he has a “second breakfast” at school everyday.  They all have eating habits like Hobbits, dinner, second dinner, dessert, customary bedtime chocolate malt because I am told it isn’t another dessert but a drink.  Do you have any idea how much ice cream I buy?  If they weren’t all so darn skinny and active I would make them cut back.

I am bad, bad, bad because of my anticipation of being unable to come in and cook I BOUGHT A BOX OF DRIVE THRU TACOS!  I did.  Genius.  I am a hero to the kids. My husband gave me a head tilt smirk as if to say, “I want real food”…but he ate it.

I got to play in the yard until 9:00pm.  Success, I thought.  I finally came in the house and I had to make them Malt O Meal at 9:30pm.  How many more weeks until the pool opens and I have to wear a swimsuit?  I do not have a Hobbits metabolism at my age but I do kind of live in the dirt. 😉

I’ve been posting for a couple of weeks now.  Please follow my blog, leave suggestions, comment, like…  I need encouragement.  If you need a good laugh read, “I forgot to tell them to keep your heads out of the toilet”  I want to create a place for people to go and read a quick story that gives them a smile or a laugh.  A story they can relate to.  A place to hit after you have read the news in the school drop off/pick up line or while your waiting on the side of a practice field.

All that makes you smile, laugh, think, love, cry or cry laughing.

A wife’s revenge by way of spring fever…

Eventually it turns into a (very funny ;)) story of a wife’s revenge…

I just bought a new hoe today. I broke my last one last fall.   With winter being winter, I have spent the last few months trying to find the perfect hoe. Sharp corners, lightweight , doesn’t feel like its splintering in my hands, durable, few weld joints… What I think I really want is one with a thick graphite handle. A little cushion like a golf club but less frustrating. What did I buy today, your garden variety (couldn’t help myself) hoe. I, as usual, cannot find what’s in my head.

I opened up every pair of hand pruners, (so sorry to the “PO” or as everyone else calls it, Home Depot) and chose the ones labeled by the “Arthritis Foundation” as being the best for seniors. I am turning 40 this year and since jumping on the shovel has already made my right knee creaky I would like to protect my hands.

Now the shovel…I have “gone through” about 7 over the years. I did go through three in one day which led to me pulling out a log chain and hooking it up to my old “Chester The Molester Ghetto Gold” conversion van (anyone that has known me forever remembers it but may have not commented for fear of insulting me but I was always aware that women wouldn’t park next to me at the mall for fear of being abducted and for those who haven’t known me as long…it had mini blinds…enough said) I drove it while JR was in medical school.

So the elderly neighbor lady asks, “So….you were raised in the country?” I just laughed as I stood in the front yard with my two, two year olds sleeping on a blanket under a tree in the shade while all this was going on. I can’t have any fun at this house because of the sprinklers but I have mentioned I would like a Bobcat a few times to JR.

When JR came home from the hospital he walked right past the half a dozen 40 year old Volkswagen sized shrubs..upside down…in the front yard, and six half pieces of shovels.  He says (rather angrily), “You couldn’t break ONE shovel before you pulled out the log chain? You had to break THREE!” Then he went inside.

When he went to work the next day he found an arborvitae sitting in his front seat. A very large arborvitae.  It took some doing to get it in there.   I watched him from the upstairs window.  I watch from up there because I think I am hilarious and I was afraid he would hear me snorting when he was walking down the driveway to the car.

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