Sherbucks

This coming weekend we're taking a little roadtrip through the midwest to visit family. First stop, my sister's place in Kansas City. Saturday morning we'll continue on to Omaha for a Schafer family gathering. Chip's cousin Alexander is home on leave, and Uncle Beef and Aunt Jill are hosting an open house on Sunday.

No offense to Alexander, the Holy Trinity or anyone who ever set foot in the Schafer Mecca of Norton, Kansas, but the part I'm most excited about is the chance to spend some QT with Brennan.

That was, of course, until Sherri called to tell me that Sherbucks was open for business. That's right, she went out and bought a stovetop cappuccino maker this morning.

Brennan, schmennan. Make me a cappuccino! As of 3:30 today, she was already on her third batch. My sister is apparently quite the little barista.

Let the record show that I had to pry the name of the cappuccino maker out of my sister. The second I asked, she gave an emphatic, "Why? Wait, no! You're going to blog about this, aren't you? Don't lie to me, I know when you're lying."

Alas, she knows me all too well, for I was in fact lying when I said I wouldn't blog about it. She was appeased, however, when I reminder her that only our mother and my husband read this (because I force them to do so), and what does she really care what they think?

I have a dream

He read it, he really read it.

Okay, I sent the URL to Chip AGAIN, and of course he was doing work (read: even this is a fun read compared to that), but still. He read it.

To make sure that such behavior continues, I have a new goal. I shall hone my writing skills and blog away until one day, one day, Chip makes this site part of his evening computer routine. Hard work, clever wordplay and possibly risque photos will someday put me among the ranks of msn.com and the multitude of sports-related sites Chip so dearly loves.


Yes, one day, this boy will say, "Who has two thumbs and loves blogs? This guy."

Sigh

You know it's bad when even your sister won't read your blog. And she's on maternity leave. And the content is about her own son.

Dear sister, I'm bored at work and I need you to at least read this so the day isn't a total loss.

Thank you.

I radiate holiness

Make that two - count 'em - two godsons for me. Sherri called last night and asked if I would like to be Brennan's godmother. I was thrilled. (Never mind that our families are incredibly small and I am one of two aunts. I am still honored.)

Anyway, could I be more excited? I have two godsons who are both so terribly handsome I can hardly stand it.

Godson #1, Luke (in his younger days)

Godson #2, Brennan (in his current state)

I love this most recent development because now I can justify my spoiling of Brennan. But Chip, he's my godson. God wants me to buy him adorable clothes. Because that's why the Catholic Church invented this whole godparent thing.

Now I just need to hold out for a third boy, and I can have my own Godmother trilogy. The downside, of course, is that this will make Chip use that horrible Marlon Brando godfather voice even more than he already does.

And I was doing so well

This past Friday night we had plans to meet up with our friends at Flamingo Bowl to celebrate Cori's birthday. So, Chip and I are upstairs getting ready. I'm looking sassy in my red dress and tall boots when it happens. He plants the seed of doubt.

"Are you sure you're not too dressed up for bowling?"

Okay, yes, bowling shoes with tights and a dress is probably not a good look, but in my defense I was thinking about my pre- and post-bowling appearance. I mean, Flamingo Bowl (www.flamingobowl.net) is a happening bar that just happens to have bowling. Nevertheless, I knew he had a point. The rest of my friends would be in jeans, and the bowling shoes/dress look would be a tad hard for me to pull off. Exposed legs + flat shoes = round sausage calves.

So I hurriedly change my ensemble. Surprisingly, the stomping and sighing didn't slow me down too much, and Chip and I finished getting ready at the same time. Buddy joined us at the top of the stairs, and we prepared to make our descent. (What a team. We even do stairs together.) I made it five steps and WHOOSH. I'm not sure if I missed a stair, my heel caught, Buddy bumped me or all three happened, but I bit it and slid down three quarters of our wooden stairs. Legs first, thankfully. Chip rushed after me, and just as he made it to the bottom, I jumped up and announced "This wouldn't have happened if I was wearing my boots!"

Four days have passed and I'm still sore (about the costume change and from the fall). The bruise on my upper thigh is the size of my head. I took pictures, but no way anyone's seeing my multi-colored cellulite.

So, back to the counter we go. My name is Debbie, and it has been four days since my last fall.

Addicted

Why yes, I did call my sister two times today to ask "Did you check the blog? Did you check the blog?" So funny you asked. On the third call, I switched it up and added, "Did you double click on the pictures?"

Anyway, yes, she finally did check and no, she did not double click. Novice. (She is making the mean Barbie face at this very moment.)

Chip just busted me fussing around with my profile. I'm sure he fears I shall become one of those people. Fear not, I said, no one ever has to know this exists. It shall be the Sherbie 2008 experiment. For our next trick, we shall make the Murphy children disappear. Abra-cadabra!

Brennan Warren Jones

The whole reason I tried this fancy-schmancy blog thing. A test run so Brennan's mom can give me minute-by-minute updates and photos of my handsome nephew. Click here to view the official Brennan set.

Meet Team Botanical

Click here or on the image above to view the members of Team Botanical. We are a handsome bunch, and you are sure to love us.

Hello, internets

Team Botanical is live. Please let the record show that for the first time in my life, I have nothing to say. I really just did this to show my sister how easy it is to start a blog.

D: What's up now, SAHM?
S: Shet.