Not exactly a match made in heaven

Kyler's class has been learning the art of writing letters. Each day, one child was chosen and everyone else wrote a letter to that student. When finished, the letters were bundled and sent home with the students. It was so much fun to read what each student wrote to my son. They ranged from the mundane:
Dear Kyler,
Do you like anims (animals)? Whel, I do do you. Kyler you are cool. I think you should which (watch) Old Yeler.

Love,
HP

to the very sweet:
Dear Kyler,
I am so glad that you are in my class this year. What are you going to be when you grow up. I think you should be an artes (artist) when you grow up. You would be good. I think you should be famous because you are very smart.

Your Friend,
RP

to the hilarious:
Dear Kyler,
I know we are the best artists in the class. But we shouldn't brag on our selfs. What are you going to be when you grow up? I think you should be a Artist Because that's what I'm going to be. What are you going to be if you don't do that? Are you going to make bibles? Do you like Mrs. [our teacher's name]? I think you should like her more. Have a great day.

Your friend,
MJ

and there's this one:
written in the most prim, neat handwriting you can imagine
Dear Kyler,
I know we don't always get along that well. Don't you like to read books about animals? I love writing poems I want to do some again! Do you like to write poems? If you don't you should because you can do a lot of writing and it's like practicing your handwriting. Poems are very, very fun to write. The 1 poem that you wrote about "We all scream for winter clothes" that poem is really good. Do you like math? I do because you can do adding, subtracting, and times tables and a lot of other things. You have been very good in class.

Your friend,
EC

Hmm, after reading that last one, I can't imagine why my fun-loving, school-hating son doesn't always get along with her. . .Can you? And, please, no comments about how I would have been the last one when I was in school! : )

SWAK: My Valentine Letter to my Husband

Dear Kevin,
The truth is we were never "supposed" to get together. We were certainly never "supposed" to last. Everyone said so. After all, you were that guy who was always looking for fun, always looking to get into a little mischief. You smoked. You drank. You stayed out late. You were THE bad boy.

I was the always-conscious-of-how-important-this-was-to-my-future girl. I was forever concerned about grades and homework and being good. I knew my plans for the future. I didn't think about nonsense that might deter those plans. Then, I had a "mini-meltdown" and met you.

We were good for each other. You taught me to be a little wild. I taught you to set goals. You taught me that no matter how much I planned, life just kind of spontaneously happened. I taught you to care more for another's happiness than your own (as you taught me).

We fell in love when everyone said we were too young. We got married, and everyone said it would never last--we were too young. They were right--about the too young part. We were too young, but it has lasted. . .for over 10 years now. We were too naive, but we've gained wisdom and experience. We have laughed and we have cried.

We've been through some really tough times. I didn't think we'd ever get out of that first apartment we were in. OH! And remember when I rented the house full of roaches?! Then there was the Valentine's Day you gave me the sad, droopy aloe vera plant that you snagged at the last possible moment. . .

We have survived parents divorcing, parents remarrying, a parent's death, fairly "odd" family members becoming officially certifiable, deaths of loved ones, deaths of friends' babies, college, graduate school, night shift, being "welfare poor," being just above welfare poor, bounced checks, lies, births of our babies, sleepless nights with our babies, roommates (never again!!), friends taking over my kitchen (Hi, Adam!), James Dean neighbors, tequila nights, fast food jobs, unemployment, bad housekeeping, parents' heart attacks and other assorted medical crises, weddings, funerals, bad cooking, serious weight gain (obviously not due to bad cooking, right?!), working away from home, depression, roughly 1400 flat tires, a ton of laundry, piles of deer meat, stacks of unfiled pictures, the death of your best friend, a son that appears to be a clone of my dad, a red-headed daughter, snow skiing, a freak New Mexico blizzard, being stranded on the interstate, bad Chinese food (here, kitty-kitty), vacations with the parents, changing a million dirty diapers (me), cases of beer (you), a few (!) fights, and a gazillion laughs to be where we are now.

I wouldn't trade a minute of it. Through it all, you've been my lover, my guardian (at times), my protector, my confidant, my sweetheart, my challenger, my alter-ego, my children's father, my strong arms, my handyman, my fellow dreamer, my mechanic, my sounding board, my hunter (and when that didn't work, my gatherer), my provider, my breadwinner, my supporter, my cheerleader, my encouragement, my redneck : ), and most importantly, my best friend! I love my life, and I love you. You make each day tolerable. There is no one else I'd rather laugh with and love.

Love,

Rachel

PS After seeing the mess you cleaned out of my car last weekend, I know you love me, too!!

I was there--kinda.

Really behind on this, but on Saturday, my post about Kyler's, um, "forks" was featured on 5 minutes for humor. Go HERE to check it out, if you're interested.

because we haven't laughed enough. . .

Head on over to the Red Clay Diaries. She's at the Blissdom '09 conference, but we'll try not to hold that against her. Check out this video from the Ellen Degeneres show. It is guaranteed to make you laugh. (Click on any of the previous text to get there.)

my 3 seconds of fame

I was once the Beef Princess. Go ahead. Laugh. You know you are. Let's just agree now, that you are laughing at me, ok? Anyway, in my small hometown, there are not a lot of scholarship opportunities, and as a bit of a planner (what happened to that skill anyway?), I was not going to wait around until the end of my senior year of high school to figure out how to pay for college. Therefore, I entered EVERY scholarship opportunity that came along. Every single one. My most memorable one is obviously the beef princess title. Unfortunately, if you became the county beef princess, you had to compete at the state level. . .It was the most difficult pageant/scholarship I ever participated in. We had to model, interview, give an expository 5 minute speech, and probably other stuff too. I don't actually remember much after the whole "You WILL give a speech that is five minutes long that you've had 10 minutes to prepare for. . .Good luck!"

Forgive me--I'm having heart palpitations now over that last sentence. . .

OK, I'm back. Anyway, for some reason, I managed to get first runner up at the state beef princess competition. . .I can only guess the judges felt sorry for my extreme anxiety level. . .

I remember being relieved that I didn't actually win, because that would have kept me from getting married. In June. At 18. Gosh, maybe that's when the planning started going south. . .So, I get back to high school from this competition, and the school secretary announces on the intercom that everyone should congratulate me over my win. Trust me when I say you never want to be the first runner-up in the Arkansas Beef Princess contest or as the ever-so-nice kids in high school referred to me: the second biggest heifer in the state of Arkansas. For more embarrassing stories, check out We are THAT family.

computer geeks are overrated

I am sorry for the possibly offensive title of this post. We finally got power, so I'm back! Now, begins the great migration back to our actual office. . .so things are a little hectic for now. Added to that, the resident computer guy at work has made me angry.

Apparently, our fax machine needs a software upgrade following the worst ice storm--EVAH!

When the fax machine was installed, it also needed an upgrade--which the resident computer guy completed. (I was here. I witnessed it.)

Apparently, the resident computer guy "does not DO fax machines."

Um. . .ok. Then, who in the heck did it last time? Overrated, I tell ya'.

Age is in the eye of the beholder. . .

First of all, I'm in total blogging withdrawal. I can't wait to get power back at work, so I can spend my time effectively by reading blogs. . .I miss you all so much.

Before the "ice storm of aught nine" hit, Kady spent the night with my mom.

Nana applied moisturizer.

Kady wanted some.

Nana said she was old, and that was why she used it.

Kady said, "You old, Nana?"

Nana said that yes she was old.

Kady asked, "You four, Nana?"

Oh, to be two again.