Chelsey Learns a Lesson.

Today my dad and Chelsey stopped by on the way home from the hospital (before anyone becomes alarmed, I might mention my dad is an OB/GYN and works there, and NO he does not have anything to do with my pregnancies. And no, the plural form does not indicate I am "with child" again.)
So Chelsey walks in the door and I hear her say, "I am going to tell Melissa she was sooooo right." Aaaaaaa...music to my ears. This is usually the case, but I wondered about the specifics.
So my dad tells me, "You know what Chelsey said to me today?"
Me: "What."
Dad: "She said she feels sorry for all the doctors because they have to take care of sick people and eat disgusting hospital food."
Me: laugh.
Chelsey: "Ya. That food is soooooo gross. You were right Melissa."
So apparantly this is what I was right about. Although I do not remember giving a certain lecture on the quality of hospital food, apparantly I have given one at some point in time.
Although, for the record, I might have changed my opinion on hospital food after childbirth as I realized it is quite nice to have someone cook, bring, and clean up the mess from said food. And I quite enjoyed the chicken pot pie if I recall. In fact, next time around, I am pretty sure I will be looking forward to that disgusting hospital food...and all the little juice boxes I get too!
I will have a hard time convincing Chelsey of that though. I doubt she will ever set foot in the hospital cafeteria again. Except she said the macaroni and cheese was edible. Messing up macaroni and cheese is a sin. Speaking of, I have a divine recipe for that. White chedder and Romano. Aaaaa....heavenly....
Have a nice Friday.

Melissa Learns a Lesson

I got a membership to Costco the other day. And it seems I go there everyday. It is kind of like Disneyland to me...fantastic smells, lots of people...long lines...something for everybody.... It is a great store. It is a little annoying they make you pay to shop there, but hey, it doubles as entertainment. I spend quality time oohing and aahing over their bakery section and wide array of frozen, delectable, already prepared foods. It is also an evil store. I want to buy everything in there. Their bean and rice burritos, the little statue of a girl to go in my Secret Garden of sorts backyard (cough cough), potstickers, playhouse, "french style" chair, a dress for Chloe, jeans for me (glad they looked awful on me, I saved myself some buckeroos), food storage (still mulling over that), and so on and so forth.
But...I thought I showed great self restraint in going home with only a bag of blueberries, a huge bag of frozen vegetables, some eggs and some baby wipes. I put back the bag of frozen rice and bean burritos which leads me into the lesson I learned today.
Samples. I vow to get my money back in the membership fee through the partaking of all of their delicious samples. I believe there are many Costco shoppers with the same goal, as the sample lines are always ridiculously long, as if the nice old lady is giving away 100 dollar bills, not a small piece of a barbecued rib. People and "free" stuff. It is all quite humorous isn't it? Well I have no room to talk.
Today I sampled all the samples available. And when I saw that the burrito sample cart was replaced by a young male and no longer occupied by a nice old lady, I jumped at the chance for seconds. Unfortunately I had my little niece standing right beside me and repeating over and over again, and louder each time, "Melissa, we've already tried this sample." She honestly thought she was doing me a favor by helping me remember...but I assure you, I remembered, that is why I was back for more. I am ashamed to say, I still took seconds. And felt rather guilty afterwards at the example I was setting. And it didn't taste nearly as good the second time around,not sure if that was out of the guilt, or because it was still partly frozen inside. Anyway, I realized I am by far one of the worst sample offenders and I shall remove the beam from my own eye. And so I vow, I Melissa, will never take seconds at the Costco sample booths, no matter how delicious or scrumptious those samples are.
The end.

Chelsey Story #...?

Chelsey is here today. I was making lunch and she became rather irate with me over my line of questioning. She told me repeatedly "I just don't want to talk about it."
I asked,"Well what do you want to talk about? How am I supposed to know what I can talk about with you?"
She approached me a few minutes later and said, "How about I tell you the things not to ask me about."
I said, "Okay. Write them down. I will memorize them."
This is her list: (If you are not Mormon, some of these might not make sense or be very funny. I would be happy to explain.)
1. guys
2. getting a job
3. going on a mission
4. going to the temple
5. going to the singles ward. it's never going to happen.

I believe she left a few things off the list as I have not been able to find one single conversation topic that doesn't make her mad. Oh, except for the Wiggles, an Australian kid's band. And food. She likes food. Just make sure you don't tell her it is unhealthy or might ahem, back her up, if you know what I mean. That makes her REALLY mad.

Fiesta!

Last weekend Don's Uncle turned 75. A big birthday bash was held in his honor. Now, some people believe I am joking when I say I am married to a Mexican. I am not trying to be un-PC. It is the truth. I am in fact married to a Mexican. He is 75% and that makes my Irish daughter almost 40%, 37.5 to be exact. Many people don't believe me. In fact when we first met, I was excited at the prospect of having an Italian boyfriend, but then I realized he was from another part of Europe...Mexico ; ) Although, for the longest time I really did believe Spain was in South America. Now I know Spain is just another name for Mexico.

Anyway, I love Mexican Fiestas. I advise everyone to marry a latin lover. And if it is too late for that, I advise fiesta crashing. Because at Fiestas...the food never runs out, the keg never runs dry (for those that drink that is), Mariachi music fills the air, and no one is ashamed to get out on to the dance floor and boogie woogie...or something of that nature.

It was awesome. See...don't we look Latin?

"The food never runs out."-Melissa Mortensen.

In other news, yesterday I found myself quite bewildered looking for a certain office trash can. This morning the mystery was solved when Don came into the room and proclaimed to me, "Melissa. You and taking out the trash." He is referring to the fact that when I throw out trash I usually leave the trash cans outside to air out. He seems to think it looks rather "trashy." He also seems to think I don't finish the job.

Anyway, apparently unbeknownst to me, I threw away the trash can along with the trash yesterday. Don is rather concerned. He made me promise that one day I wouldn't throw Chloe away in the large dumpster and forget about her...like throwing the baby out with the bath water...wow that is a really clever expression-I should patent it! Well I will try my best, that's all anyone can really do, you know....

Now go find yourself a fiesta!

Dilemmas.

Well it is Wednesday (which you would obviously know by looking at the date of this post). Chloe is asleep. And my house is a mess. And instead of cleaning it, I am sitting here googling artwork.

I have found myself in a dilemma. And maybe some advice is warranted. And maybe an answer to the question, "What would you do?"

Or maybe not. It is actually one of those questions like "What do you think of this baby name_____?" When in actuality, really you don't want anyone's opinion, especially if it in any way differs from your own. Especially if you really do like the name Chrysanthemum. Or Vera. And I got nixed on that one.

This past summer my Grandma died and I was left with a little inheritance. Basically my siblings and I split the money that was supposed to go to my mom, who passed away 9 years ago.

I have been thinking for awhile about what I wanted to do with it. I actually didn't even want to cash the check. I wanted to sleep with it under my pillow because I knew when it went into the bank, Citi Financial Mortgage and so on and so forth, would cash it and be so ungrateful for my contribution, and I would say, now where did that money go? Oh ya. Utilities. And such.

But Don, who is much better at money than I, explained to me, that is all the same. In the bank or not. I still wish it was under my pillow.

At any rate. I haven't given up on doing something meaningful with the money. And it is a hard decision. It is special money. And I want to use it in a way to remember my Grandma. And my mom. So I think...what would they want me to do with it?

And then I think...they would probably say, whatever you think is best...but something smart.

And then I would say, you know I have a problem with figuring things like that out.

So I've thought...a cruise (fun but nothing really tangible to show for it, except maybe some awesome pictures of us showing off our stellar beach bods), or artwork, or food storage : (

I have leaned more to artwork as this is something that I could look at every day and remember them.

But then my dad told me today, randomly I might add, "melissa, you better not spend much money, things are going to be getting pretty tight." Dang this economy. So I guess I should opt for the food storage. sigh. And p.s. what in the world brought that thought on to my dad? My new front door mat?

But I haven't given up on my art. I found this lady, Patty Baker. And I like her stuff. It would be my dream to put her stuff all over my house. That way in the middle of the summer when I am sweating like a banshee, I could look at my painting of the fall aspens and feel just a little cooler.

But I guess all that doesn't matter if I have nothing to eat. Then I will be crazy and more interested to see if there is a squirl or something in the tree, and picturing myself eating it because I will be starving and maybe by then I might not vomit at the thought of eating anything besides chicken or beef. Sometimes pork. Very rarely. Sorry for the run on sentence. I like run on sentences. I think they should be deemed "a-okay" in writing.

Oh by the way, have you ever seen "Surviving the Wild" or something like that. This guy gets filmed trying to survive in the most uninhabitable places on the earth. I seriously almost threw up watching him wrestle with a dead sheep in a quick sand type material, and then eat the sheep's heart for dinner. Why. Why???? I guess he couldn't get a regular job with the travel channel so he had to make up his own crazy show or something. Near as I can figure out.

Back to the original topic...So what would you do?

Do you like the name Vera?

No, I am not having a baby.

CSI

The scene of the crime.

The Prime Suspect.

20 months.

Red Hair.

Feigns innocence.

Calling Card: Likes to Wears shoes, not unmentionables. Been know to do such at multiple crime scenes.

Suspect fleeing scene of crime.

Please Call Silent Witness if you have seen this individual.

Or would like to go out to lunch with me.

Don says I shouldn't post this...seems to think others might find this rather inconsequential and narcissistic...and perhaps slightly against the rights and privacy of a certain toddler. Above mentioned, claim no responsibility for post. M.M.M takes full responsibility. All Lawsuits to be filed appropriately.

Awesome.

All 155 safe after pilot ditches jet in NYC river

I love good news.

My alter ego.

So remember back in the day I said that Don offered to hire a housekeeper? (Which I think was more of a not so subtle way of saying Melissa, you really are a lousy laundry woman **this is the only household task that I will actually admit in public to being horrible at).

And I can't argue. Tis true that our "guest room" was more of our walk in closet.

Don has said to me multiple times in a rather dreamy voice, "Melissa...you know how swell it would be if you ironed some of my shirts so in the morning I could just go to work and not waste time ironing? (or sorting through the piles of clothes in the guest room for some clean underwear.)"

Well I don't know what got into me today. It started with one...then another...and before I knew it, I had ironed 14 long sleeve dress shirts, and 2 pairs of slacks. That is basically a record for my life. I don't think I have ironed that many articles of clothing combined in all my 21 years. isn't it sad how early we start lying about our age?

I am not trying to brag. Okay maybe I am. But dangit, I am proud of myself.

So I introduce my alter ego, Bertha, the cleaning woman. And Don doesn't have to pay her a thing...cause she steals all his money for shoes and such anyway...although you would never guess it looking at the homie g'funk picture, except for the peach sweater.

Tomorrow Bertha might get really nitty gritty and tackle the cupboards. Or she might take a day off. She is really tired. She's got to save her ironing arm for the big days. Like when Don meets the President.

Clocking out.

zzzzzzzz....

And this one steals Bertha's shoes.

P.S. I had Chelsey over today and she was rather grumpy, so status quo. I told her she was complaining a lot which made her more mad and she told me "I am not going to stop complaining until you tell me that I don't complain." ????

So...

So....Hmmm. Well gee. I can't think of anything to say. Don is watching football right now. The Cardinals. Guess they aren't half bad this year. To be honest, I am not the hugest football fan. Poor Don.


Anyway. This picture is of us and our adopted daughter. The Goths and Pippy.

And these two people are basically best friends. I think in some circumstances, Grandpa actually trumps mom. Gasp.

Not any other babysitter though.

Yesterday we got one and the moment the sitter walked in the door Chloe went from a whimper to full on scream in .5 seconds. That kid gets the things that are important to her little world, figured out amazingly fast.

And that's all. I think I am going to go see a movie.

A Poem:

Another Christmas and New Years has come and gone,
I am married to an old man, his name is Don.
Between then and now a lot has gone on,
I shall tell you the tales, I hope you don't yawn.
The Christmas break started Christmas eve,
We spent it with Don's family, had a great time, I do believe.



As tradition requires the Christmas story was told,
the kids get a pop quiz and prizes to hold.


Since we never took a Christmas photo,
We tried to take one, but this one is only so-so.



And then all the crazies decided on a swim.
This is the 2nd year in a row, I fear their brain cells are fading dim.



In the morning it was Christmas Day!
Breakfast at my house, hip hip hooray!








Don the master chef, created food galore to partake.
And eating too much, doth tight pants make.








And after breakfast, time to get to the gifts under the tree.
Chloe passed out the gifts appropriately. (for the most part, sometimes she was the last say on who the gift was meant for.)





And on a sidenote I'd like to bring to your attention,
That Chloe and the doll I've had since ten, have the same hair, heighth and complexion.















When getting 2 of the same Wiggles DVD's made Chelsey distraught,
I told her she could keep one at my house, which she said she ought not.














Mr. Santa himself surprised me for sure.
I got a GPS system, and getting lost...I hope it is a cure.










A couple days after Chistmas the Light Rail had it's opening day.
Don had a booth, he looks pretty nice, wouldn't you say?











Another attempt at a Christmas shot,
My brother gave me that sweater, my favorite gift I was bought.











One day we went to the zoo.
Chloe's favorite part? The pigeons. It's true.














The Mott sisters plus one addition.
Chloe was appeased by popcorn, the kettle korn rendition.















And then it was New Years, and what did we do?
We rode the Light Rail, a lot of odd people did too. (Read:We were too cheap to buy tickets to the Huge Block party so we just watched outside the gates and then hopped on the train. I have decided New Years might not be my favorite holiday being 1. I don't drink 2. I get tired early. 3. I am not a fan of large crowds and loud music. 4. I don't look good in spandex. P.S. Don kept telling me I needed to stop looking like a tourist in my own city.)










For Don's Birthday we headed to my in-laws.
They live in St. David, a quiet town to think and pause.

















Although Chloe look's happy the truth was this:
She felt pretty crummy, so not much bliss.


Poor little girl we (finally) realized has a swollen lymph node.
Could barely move her head, and lack of sleep for all of us, she bestowed.






She is feeling better today for which I am ecstatic,
That hat needs to be stuffed in an attic.
















Stayed home from church for Chloe's sake.
Writing this poem, I think a mistake.

For I cannot think of anything else to ryhme,
So I am signing out and will do something else with my time.

Really??

1. Happy New Years!
2. Happy Birthday Don! He's a New Years Baby, did you know that? 22 sure looks good on you! (plus 10)
3. Okay. Does anyone believe this is real:



4. Happpppppp...y New Year!