Ahh...memories

Here is my very first blog. I am actually still slightly taumatized from this morning.

After looking at other people's blogs, I have discovered that you can tell a lot by a person just by what they choose to tell the world. ]Here's the most important thing you need to know about me : I hate milk. And not just 'Oh, I don't care for milk. None for me, thanks'. No, mine is a genuine disgust. I don't even like to touch the carton (It makes my hand stink..is this just me?) Some might think it's a little over the top...I prefer to think it's quirky.

This is why it is so scary when I realize I have lost a sippy cup. For the past few days, I have realized that Maddi's blue sippy cup is MIA. I just knew that it was in some dark corner of the house, growing more and more putrid by the minute.

Well, as I open the car door to put Maddi in her carseat this morning, I am knocked over by the smell that wafts out. THERE is the sippy! Half under the front seat. With the lid unscrewed JUST ENOUGH to allow some leakage I am faced with a dilemma. This morning I want a Whataburger taquito more than anything. My car smells like the depths of Hell. And yes, my Hell smells like rotten milk. After an internal battle, my desire for a taquito wins. I roll down all the windows and hit the road. After all, it's just down the street.

As I'm driving, Maddi is protesting the windows being down. I'm trying to repress my gag reflex and I go the wrong way. Waxahachie is not a big town by far, but I manage to take the longest route possible. My brain was clouded with milk fumes. I gag some more...I'm stopped at stop light after stop light, which leaves no air flow...stagnant milk air. I gag again and accidentally turn into Taco Bell. I curse. Then I remember I'm not supposed to curse in front of the baby. Because even though she has no interest in repeating anything we say thus far, she would choose the word "SHIT" to begin her vocabulary with.

I finally get the cursed taquito, which I have no appetite for any longer.

So, out in my garage is a car I cannot sit in anymore. It either has to be detailed or sold. The offending cup has been brought into the house, but I gag everytime I see it. So, I put a dishtowel over it and Kevin can deal with it when he gets home.