Gunther Gab: Happy Birthday, Pebbles!!

She´s your brand new little daughter,

so enchanted, sweet and smart.

With a coo, she´ll have you smiling

With a laugh, she´ll own your heart.

It´s the time for hugs and kisses,

Reassurance when she cries.

It´s the time for making moments

Full of love and Lullabies.

For these golden days of childhood

come and go so very fast -

Hold her tight and love her dearly.

Make these precious moments last.

CareBear and Titty Baby welcomed their beautiful daughter on September 22, 2011 at 8:30am. Pebbles weighed in at 7lbs 9oz and measures 19 1/2 inches in length. It is quite possible that she may be the sweetest little baby born into this world - and to Titty Baby nonetheless. Sometimes, I just don't question the works of our Father, I just bask in his glory. And what a glorious gift to these proud parents.

Other than some slight nausea from the father and an extra large noggin pushin' on her mama's pelvis, I received word that the delivery went pretty smoothly. Both mother and baby are happy and healthy, and the new daddy has transitioned into his role with confidence. It has been confirmed that his role of recording bowel movements is taken very seriously. Just remember:

Officer Bob and I made the trip to the hospital as I anxiously waited my turn to love on the sweet little girl. The drive with Officer Bob was spent discussing proper technique of holding his new niece. His exact words were, and I quote "Nobody is making me hold her. I am not picking her up until she is three!"

I am sure you can all guess how that one turned out.............

It didn't take long for her uncle to fall under her spell, and he did so well with her. He is completely wrapped around her finger, and already talking about future birthday gifts. Her birth certificate should have read S-P-O-I-L-E-D.

Although there is no photographic proof, trust me when I say that I took full advantage of my snuggle time with Pebbles. Though I may not be her aunt yet, I am TOTALLY smitten by such a precious being, and I have no doubt that I will be making several visits to see her during the coming weeks. I just can't get enough Pebbles time!!

We left just as Pebbles was receiving her very first manicure! Thank heaven for little girls, right CareBear?!

Stay tuned for future updates on this beautiful family of three as we watch Pebbles develop her own unique personality and grow into a beautiful young girl.

P.S. No worries, Mama Dirt. The 8ft inflatable light-up stork made yet another appearance. Casa de Pebbles does not go unnoticed!

Feliz Cumpleanos, Beautiful Pebbles!

Your Uncle and Kinda-Sorta Aunt are so happy you have FINALLY made your appearance!

Let the spoiling begin!!!

Dear CareBear:

I sympathize for your state, belly stretched half a mile
So I decided to write you a poem. Hope it makes you smile.

You wait all this time with a good attitude
All day just dreaming of your baby in nude

Bigger you both get, with each passing day
And it becomes harder to work, sleep, and play

Discomfort and gas rule your life
No one else can imagine the torture and strife

People keep talking, calling, and email
It is enough to make you lethargic and pale

Every day your mother guesses a new baby name
And you're just praying to end this game

When will she come? Nobody knows.
I'm sure you wake up thinking, "Oh God how this blows!"

Your husband hangs with the boys and cracks open a few beers
As he brags of his Doctor's office souvenirs

I have to pause here as its hard to think
While picturing Titty Baby, the glide, and his best friend Rink

Each night you sit at home cringing in pain
The waiting and waiting drives you insane

But soon you will be holding a baby in your arms
Under her spell, hooked by her charm

A new precious life, just wait and see
Too bad the wait feels like an eternity

Until that time comes, just stay home and rest
Because Pebbles will appear when she feels its best!

Some people think football is a matter of life and death..........

I assure you, it's much more serious than that.

The most anticipated time of year has come. Forget Santa, The Easter Bunny, or even that questionable fairy that runs around stealing the molars from our youth. The most important, long anticipated, day of the year has arrived.

FOOTBALL SEASON!!!

It surprised me to find out that even mother nature might actually be a fan of the pigskin as the temperatures dropped and the chilly fall weather arrived in honor of this famed day. However, she does get a little moody and perhaps "pouts" when things don't go her way. Hence the rain. Must be a Bears fan.

Even though today might be the actual starting day of the season, preparations for this moment have been a daily routine at Casa de Bob for the last several weeks. The green and gold attire has been moved to the front of the closet, and the sewing machine is training for a marathon of its own in creating garments for the four-legged members of the family.

And of course......this has been the scene at my house for the last 6 nights running:

Let me break down this image for you:



Officer Bob sits with his trusty companion, the Dell, logging into one of 5, count 'em 5, live drafts for the 2011 Fantasy Football season while talking on the phone to El Aguila discussing team strategy and bitching about player selection while simultaneously shouting at his adorable girlfriend (that would be me) to boot up the netbook because the trusty Dell can't keep up with his lightning fast drafting skills.

Even Gilbert and Reggie get into the fantasy draft action offering their father pointers and keeping him updated on the latest player injuries.

Yes folks. This is what my house has become.

If I didn't have marathon training to keep me busy, I might actually have to start throwing a little yellow flag when I need to grab Officer Bob's attention. That always seems to create some sort of emotional response.

However, I must admit, that it does feel good to train for my race wearing a
Cheese Head!

GO PACK GO!!!

To answer your question, Mr. Hank Williams Jr.......
Yes, I am indeed ready for some football.

Marathon Training Week "Does It Really Even Matter Anymore?"

In case you were wondering,

I.Am.Alive.

I realize my lack of blogging has had people questioning the state of my being, but I am happy-ish to report that I am alive and kinda sorta well.

In 5 1/2 weeks, I will be standing at the starting line of a 26.2 mile road to you know where. The training has been kicked up a notch lately, and I will tell you that my knees and back are cussing at me every step of the way. If my right knee could talk, I'm pretty sure words that start with f and b would frequently be shouted as I take step after step in an effort to be somewhat, kinda-sorta, not really prepared for this thing they call a race.

Here's my question.......is it still considered jogging if my speed walking pace is faster than my jogging pace? My vote - yes. Because I damn well say so and I'm gonna damn well step across that finish line no matter what it takes.

I've been researching effective training methods and techniques for preparation, and I just keep thinking to myself - Is your body REALLY ever prepared for 5 to 6 hours of torture? Doubtful. Especially since my body can't seem to make it past mile 12 without having to take a 20 minute potty break. Luckily my training runs take place on deserted country roads, and I'm able to somewhat tuck myself between a few stalks when nature calls. However, I highly doubt the city streets of Chicago will have such a fortunate hiding place. I just pray there are multiple gas stations along the route for such times. Many reports state that racers have no problem relieving themselves while in motion in an effort to meet record breaking times. I, however, have no problem running 3-5 miles COMPLETELY OUT OF MY WAY to make sure my bladder is comfortable. I may not be the classiest of individuals, but I would like to protect the small glimpse of reputation that falls under the somewhat respectable category.

All in all......I may not be exactly where I would like to be in my training, but I can assure you that this bucket list item WILL be checked off on October 9th, 2011. Simply because there is absolutely no way I am putting myself through such torture EVER AGAIN! Please keep saying prayers for me as motivation is starting to dwindle.....what gives me hope? The AMAZING charity that I am running for and knowing that I run so that someone else may live. Don't forget to stop by my website and make a donation for such an awesome organization. (http://afsp.donordrive.com/participant/bigbocabob)

With peace, love, blistered feet, and sweat-stained sports bras,

Big Boca Bob

P.S. Any suggestions of songs to add to the playlist to get me through my 19 mile training run this Saturday would be GREATLY appreciated. After three hours of extremely slow jogging, an upbeat, motivational song is pretty much the only thing I have. HELP!

Beans Blab: Week 25 Update

In less than four months,

This Oh-So-Adorable Little Boy.......

Is going to be a dad.

A father.

Un papa.

It's doesn't look any more natural no matter what language you write it in.

Watch out world.

Baby Beans is still in the womb and already showcasing that he is going to be his father's child.

Exhibit A:  Baby Beans has already made his mother's life HELL. A trait that Huracan has mastered tremendously well.  Baby Beans has induced enough vomiting to fill the Grand Canyon (sorry for the disturbing picture) in the first few months of his womb life, and Mama B continues to take each day in stride. Doctor's visits, ridiculous diagnoses, and constant flushing have not held this Mama back, and I commend her on the sacrifices she has already made for the little diablo. Trust me, Mama B, one conversation with Mama Dirt will make you understand that if this child is anything like his/her father, this torture will never end. Huracan is climbing toward his 29th birthday and still haunts Mama Dirt's dreams. Good luck, Girl!

Exhibit B: I give you the ultrasound picture.

In which little innocent Baby Beans is very obviously flippin' his parents one giant bird. Nothing says love like a fetus tellin his papa to stick it where the sun don't shine. This baby is already makin' his Aunt super proud! Hopefully, one day in the next couple years, when all the other aunts at work are showing off videos of their cute nieces and nephews crawling and walking for the first time, I can show a video of my little Baby Beans smokin' a skogie and shoutin' at his Mama to fix him some f'in meatloaf!

This past weekend Huracan and Mama B welcomed Officer Bob and I into their home for a nice relaxing getaway. Well......road tripping with Officer Bob isn't quite relaxing so I correct my previous statement by saying MOSTLY relaxing getaway.  This would be the face I saw 7 hours and 45 minutes out of the total 8 hours spent in the car..........

It is TOTALLY not my fault that long car rides pretty much drive me insane causing minor confusion in the location of the Berlin Wall. Apparently, it is not in China. That tiny misunderstanding, my friends, will cause the face you see above. (A face I get to see quite often!)



I was more than ready to arrive at our final destination, the humble abode of the Huracan and Mama B soon-to-be family of three. And I will tell you that I was NOT surprised to find that Mama B has got to be one of the most adorable little preggos that I have ever seen. Why do the mothers of both of my future little relatives have to be so freakin' tiny?! I'm pretty sure if you totaled their weight, I would still have a few pounds advantage on them. Thanks, Mama B, for the self-esteem boost! Looks like its doughnuts and ice cream for dinner again tonight! (I tend to hide my feelings with food)

And the day would not be complete without the token maturity of the Proud Father!



I must say, however, that the highlight of the trip may have been meeting one of Big Boca Bob blog's biggest fans! Baby Beans's Grandma B was reportedly anxiously awaiting the arrival of Big Boca Bob and Officer Bob, and I sure hope we did not disappoint! Officer Bob was only referred to using his blog moniker as the Nudist Nana and I quickly became BFFs. It is no lie that The Nudist Nana is quite the entertaining conversationalist and may make some blog cameo appearances in the future! The Nudist Nana predicts the birth of a larger than normal red-headed Mexican baby, and if this prediction holds true, I vow to love that ginger beaner to the core.

Thanks to our hosts for the fabulous tour of the town, the relaxing movie watching, and the great weekend getaway. Miss you already!

Gunther Gab: Showered With Love

After this past weekend, I think it is safe to say that Baby Pebbles is TRULY loved.

Mama-To-Be CareBear and Baby Pebbles had quite the partay on Sunday, and the amount of love for this child consumed the room. Approximately 50 friends and family brought smiles, laughter, love, and loads of gifts for the precious baby-to-be. AND I even wore a dress with heels for an entire 5 hours with minimal complaints! Talk about a good day!

I apologize in advance for the lack of photography. I was WAY too busy socializing, scooping ice cream, and watching gift-opening to worry about a camera!

A BIG thanks to Mama Dirt, Daisy Duke, The Llama, and Dancing Queen for their decorating skillz. Who knew a Masonic Lodge could be glittered with sugar and spice and everything nice. I think the amount of pink in this room would have made Barbie's Dream House look like the rut hut.

The day started out with introductions from a room full of chatty women. It was impressive to see the number of people that will be welcoming this baby into the world. I just hope Baby Pebbles will someday understand how many friends and family have been anxiously awaiting her arrival.

During introductions, the sound of ice cubes could be heard rattling in the kitchen, as the Mrs. was preparing for her first game.  And this is where I insert a plug for the creativity of the Mrs. If you or anyone you know is getting married, having a baby, or having a fiesta for any other milestone in life for which party games are needed, this is your go-to-gal!!

Game #1: My Water Broke! - Each participant received an ice cube with a tiny baby inside. The first person to free their baby from the frozen capsule, and shout "My Water Broke!" would be the winner. Prior to the game starting, as the Mrs. and I were frantically tossing glaciated babies into plastic cups laughing at the ridiculousness of the scenario, we were discussing methods participants might use and the potential length of time this task might take. I confidently stated that Mama Dirt can be quite the competitive player. Not 2 minutes later, I witness Mama Dirt gnawing on a plastic baby while simultaneously shouting the catchphrase. At the same time, one of the younger guests was smashing her baby with a chair leg. What are we trying to teach here, Mrs?! Nothing better than corrupting the future motherhood of such a young lass.

Game #2: Each gift seen below had a baby-related item that started with the specific letter located inside. Guests could feel each bag to guess the item. (PS - This poor child will never actually be called her given name as her in-utero name of Pebbles seems to have already stuck. This can be blamed on your parents, Baby Pebbles, for they are the ones holding your birth name hostage until your arrival.)

Game #3: Prior to the fiesta, the Mrs. made a phone call to her younger and oh-so-naive brother to ask him for responses to baby-related trivia questions. Poor Titty Baby did not know what he was getting himself into as his responses would then be told to a room full of the smarter gender.  The goal of the game was for CareBear to match Titty Baby's answers to 20 questions. Poor CareBear was asked to actually think like Titty Baby. I fear anything and everything that goes on in that man's mind and would deny the request to enter such a dangerous world. However, CareBear rose to the challenge, but struggled along the way. Many answers weren't too far off, but it was the occasional offbeat answer that threw the room full of women into a whirlwind of laughter. A few homework assignments for the Dad-To-Be: #1 - google definition of swaddle, #2 - poll friends of mothers to embrace realization that a child will go through MORE than 6 diapers a day, #3 - visit a local hospital to witness a newborn child with the umbilical cord still attached and observe for more than three hours without gagging.

AFTER the games, came the food! And thanks to Daisy Duke and CareBear's best friend, Erin, what a fabulous spread it was! You would not believe the number of toppings for ice cream sundaes that could be displayed to satisfy the hunger of 50+ women. Nuts, candies, sauces, etc. filled each guest's bowl and they were topped off with what else but whipped cream and a cherry. The sundae bar was a great hit! Erin was responsible for the punch and water for rehydration following such taxing games. I am 100% positive that all guests left the fiesta with bellies and hearts full!

AND THEN........PRESENT TIME! I have honestly never seen so many pink-wrapped, pink-bowed, pink-glittered gifts in my life. Now I am only 25 years old so it's not exactly the longest life to speak of, BUT I'm not so sure I will even witness such a sight in my next 25 years of life. After an hour of unwrapping, I could see the fatigue start to settle in CareBear's eyes. I'm not so sure who was more emotional, CareBear or the Mrs. The eyes were swelling and tears were about to flow on a couple different occasions as presents were unwrapped. Now I understand that CareBear was more than happy to see all the women closest to her share in her excitement for her and her future motherhood, but I'm not so sure she would have been able to untie even one more bow. There is absolutely no fear that Baby Pebbles will ever have to go without incredibly adorable clothing.

Thanks to ALL that attended, and to ALL that made the shower a success. CareBear is READY TO POP and we are all anxiously awaiting the arrival of a precious, not-so-little, big-footed princess.

Halfway to 42

21 years ago,

On July 27, 1990

A little brown boy entered our family.

It was a good thing Mama Dirt was strolling next to the dumpster that day

and saw his little brown eyes looking longingly for someone to take him home. 

Turns out the stork saw him,

said "screw this!"

and dumped him at the most appropriate place at the time.

Another man's trash became our little family's......trash.

But he was treasured trash, nonetheless.

I, for one, was more than happy to bring a younger sibling into the family.

An hermano that I could tease daily, push down the stairs,

and dress up in my old dance recital outfits.

And now........

That little brown boy.

Has matured into...........

An older little brown boy.

I honestly, truly, am having a difficult time coming to the realization

that my little tiny baby brother is a legal alcohol-consuming,

slot-machine playing, full blown adult!

Talk. About. Scary.

So far in his 21st year of life, El Aguila has purchased his first 6 pack (of Mike's Hard....really, El Aguila?! What a pansy!), lost slightly more that $20 at the casino, and received a long lecture from his older, wiser, and more beautiful sister about bar selection in a college town on a Saturday night.

Sounds to me like he is kick starting his adult life in just the right way!

FELIZ CUMPLEANOS, EL AGUILA!

I love ya little brown dumpster boy.

We've always been Mama's favorites. PLEASE don't screw it up!

Can You Tell I Need A Vacation?

WHEN I win the lottery...........

I'm going to fly here.

Using this jet.

Convince the bouncer to let me join the party at this bar.

 (using my priceless charm and extremely good looks)

(and when that doesn't work, paying him off with my new winnings)

Spend the night recreating epic music video choreography

on the dance floor with my future BFF.

Accepting drinks offered by this guy.

(as he comments on how beautiful my eyes are)

As this guy fights over my attention due to

our ridiculously compatible senses of humor.

Until I finally decide to focus my attention

on this man.

Who falls madly in love with me by the end of the night,

gives up his football dream,

proposes to me the next morning,

and asks me to move here.

And live in this villa.

Where we spend all day in bed

sipping on wine

laying in sheets of Egyptian cotton

until we decide to create the most adorable little babies

with beautiful complexion

who I teach to speak four languages.

THE END.

Summer Fun and Work Stress is NOT Conducive to Creative Blogging

Wow. Two weeks?

Has it really been two weeks since my last post?

I apologize to all the ADORING fans (*ahem* people who read this blog to feel better about their own lives) for the total lack in blog posts. The title of this post pretty much sums it up. I am totally taking advantage of the fact that Officer Bob is temporarily working day shift with every other weekend off by spending every waking moment I can with him - which he totally hates by the way (and I love completely annoying him with pointless stories just because he is home.....and he has no choice but to sit and listen.) I am also working some odd hours at the J.O.B. trying to cram in as much educational opportunity as possible (because the boss says I have to......obviously)

All in all......blogging has not been my most recent Numero Uno priority.

However.......I. Am. Back.

Holla!

Here's what you missed.......

• It pays to know extremely strong, good-looking, studly men to call when completing home projects such as fence-building...BUT in the off-chance that "those men" are not readily available, it also pays to know these guys.

 A HUGE, GINORMOUS, MEXICAN THANKS to Titty Baby, Rink, and Drewbug for taking time away from their busy lives to help construct an incredibly stable and awesome fence in record time. Even though I ended up with more concrete in my hair than in the ground.

 On a positive note, it did serve as a hairspray replacement for the following week.

I owe you boys big time, and I promise I will repay the debt if you ever need any landscaping done yourselves. I was born a professional, ya know.

• Reggie has now destroyed TWO, count 'em 1-2, couches at my house. After daily plea to rid our house of the demon dog, I have finally given up. I will now refer to him as Officer Bob's dog and refuse to throw down any scraps of dinner in his presence. When ya have a tummy full of couch stuffing, I hardly think you need table scraps to wash it down. Obedience training has been written into next year's budget.......correction: Obedience training has been written into Officer Bob's budget. I will be purchasing extra shoes and purses to mourn the loss of my most favoritest couch.

• Working with adults diagnosed with dementia proves to be a daily challenge. A challenge I continue to meet head-on. I pray for patience, compassion, and strength in my abilities to assist with such a terrifying disease.

• I recently took my car to my new favorite auto mechanic for a quick tune-up/oil change and was more than elated with the outcome. Not for the car.....but for my personal quest towards future life events. Officer Bob was less than amused that the attendant combined my first name with his last name on the final receipt, and I failed to correct the poor employee. I, however, found it to be hilarious, highlighted the mistake, and posted it in it's permanent position on the refrigerator. I can dream, can't I?

• I miss my siblings. I realize we are all maturing into fine young adults, but would it kill you chicanos to call a sista?! I put alot of thought into your personalized ringtones, and I would appreciate you making good use of them.

• In case I haven't mentioned it before, MY boyfriend is better than yours. His days off are spent mowing lawn(s), doing dishes, washing, drying, and folding laundry, googling recipes and making culinary masterpieces for dinner, and listening to my crying voice repeatedly state how "bleeping stressed out" I am. Kudos to you for putting up with me, boyfriend. I heart you.

• Mama Dirt is one amazing tower of strength. I envy her and her scooter (flat tire and all) for her courageous efforts in allowing our family to survive. If there is but one thing I can inherit from her, I truly hope it is her will to survive. I am proud of you, Mama. Know that even if we don't say it often, your children are truly thankful for the efforts you've made to ensure we are healthy, happy, and driven for life success.

• Beans Blab - no new update. Baby is maturing well, I hope. (Refer to previous mention of my siblings not calling me......I NEED a jingle, Huracan!)

• Gunther Gab - Baby Gunther/Pebbles is a fiery little jumping bean and mama CareBear is cuter than ever. Thanks to the crew of soon-to-be Aunts and Grandmas, the baby shower invites have been cut, glued, and tied with bows. Favors are almost done and cupcakes have been taste tested. All duties have been designated, and now we just wait for the fun to be had.

• I am going to win the lottery.

• So I can buy my Harley.

• And a side car for Officer Bob.

Next blog will not be a two week wait. Pinky swear.

He Is SO Grounded!

The most recent picture of my

not even one year old,

barely been introduced to a variety of bottom,

pretty damn expensive couch.........

There are no words......

(that are blog appropriate)

If it wasn't confirmed "last time"

it has been confirmed now.

Not only does my dog need valium,

he needs a 9-hour daily sedative.

Official Marathon Training Week #2

I've still got some more weight to lose before running

becomes a comfortable activity.

If you consider feeling like you are slowly suffocating due to lack of oxygen,

scarred thighs from chafing burns,

and back pain from bouncing frontal ornaments

 "comfortable".

I will have you know that running as a sport was NOT created

for hefty, well-endowed, short Mexican women.

FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION.

I still have about 10 more pounds to shed and one more cup size to drop

until I can successfully fit into the modern, hip workout clothes.

Until then,

I'll continue to permanently stain Officer Bob's old t-shirts with my chicana sweat.

Besides, I wouldn't want my running routine to be interrupted

by Matthew McConaughey look-alikes asking for my digits all the time.

My little black book is already full of the Don Vito type.

Must be the baggy t-shirts.

Holla!

I Really Need to Find More Immature Friends

To ALL friends who are buying new houses, getting married, making babies, and engaging in all other activities that signify growing up and all that jazz.......

CONSIDER YOURSELF FOREWARNED.

All gifts for such occasions between the months of June and October will be homemade because I can no longer budget for the ridiculous number of bridal showers, baby showers, weddings, housewarming parties, bachelorette parties etc., etc., etc.

YOU ARE MAKING THIS POOR MEXICAN EVEN POORER!

Don't get me wrong, I am uber excited to celebrate all these monumental milestones in your lives, but if I add one more celebration to "Summer of Negative Balance 2011" I will be digging out of the neighbor's dumpster for next week's dinner. Hope Officer Bob enjoys mac and cheese scraped off the Sunday paper. I'll have to come up with some explanation for the flavor of recycled matter and wood pulp.

However, because you all scheduled "becoming real adults" into your lives at the same exact time, this does not mean that your gifts will be made out of popsicle sticks and glitter glue (though the idea has crossed my mind once or twice after seeing a recent 1/2 price ad for glitter glue at Dollar General). My choice in friends that are WAY more mature than I and making completely grown up decisions has afforded me the opportunity to really delve into the one and only creative bone in my body. I just hope my most recent bone density score is accurate and the one and only creative bone that this 5 foot 4 inch stature is made of will be able to hold up for the torture it is about to endure.

I get it. I am at that age. The age when my surroundings start to fill with the sound of wedding bells and the smell of baby diapers. But really, friends? Why do you have to pick the same months of the same summers to grow up? I am in maturity overload and you all know damn well that doesn't exactly fit me. I mean.....I gotta rep to protect.

But back to the topic at hand.

Attention Friends!

When opening my gift at your special occasion, know that you did NOT register for such item at Target, Kohls, Babies 'R Us, Crate and Barrel, Bed, Bath, and Beyond, or any other retail store. When criticizing the creativity of my gift, I hope you consider the amount of love, sweat, and burnt skin cells from the hot glue gun that went into making such a memorable masterpiece.

Project #1 has officially been completed. Total cost: $11.99. Only an endless amount to go.

I am so proud of and happy for ALL of my amigos who are celebrating such fabulous occasions this summer. I look forward to creating memories with you on the most important days of your lives. It truly makes me happy knowing you are confident in the decisions you have made and are taking the necessary steps to ensure you wake up with a smile every day.

However, with all the maturity sucking the life right out of you, expect me to throw in the inappropriate remarks around Grandma, the vomiting in the parking lot after too many vodka waters (hold the water), and the ridiculously awesome dance moves at the parties of the year.

LET THE SUMMER FUN BEGIN!!!!

Top Two Reasons I Heart Summer

#1. I don't have to cook.

#2. I don't have to cook.

Dear Heavenly Father,

Thank you for the gift of the GRILL.

It's one of the only reasons I keep Officer Bob around.

Would it be possible to have a seasonal relationship?!

It's Not Sister Bonding Without a Few Tears

What is the best graduation present ever.................

Graduation Picture Frame?

No.

New Clothes?

Nope.

Money?

Not exactly.

45 minutes of torture and permanently fixating a fairly ridiculous Hispanic-themed cartoon on your skin?

ABSOLUTELY!!

A few years ago, I gifted myself (for the second time) with a cute little tattoo on my ankle.

Since doing so, Dancing Queen has been talking non-stop about how amazingly cool I am for doing so. Or maybe that's just what I got out of her endless ranting about wanting the SAME tattoo. So.....being the extremely awesome super fantabulous role model that I am, I gifted her the chance to do so as a wee little graduation present. At her graduation fiesta, I presented Dancing Queen with a date at the tattoo parlor with Roger (an incredibly gracious cowboy boot-wearing, tattoo-covered, giant holes in his ears man).

Officer Bob had made a bet that upon hearing the sound of the pain-inducing needles, Dancing Queen would be in tears and out the door before you could say "Ay chihuahua!" However, with a little reassurance and constant encouragement, Dancing Queen took her seat and endured the pain like a champ.

Well.....kind of like a champ. I had NO feeling in my hand after she squeezed the life out of it and off the record, there may have been one or two droplets of liquid streaming from just one eye.

What made it all worth it? Receiving her goody bag of suckers for being such a good girl and sitting so still. I still don't understand the theory behind rewarding stupidity. But nevertheless, I am so proud.

We have successfully survived another sister bonding moment. We will one day be forced to tell embarrassing stories to our children about how we used poor-decision making skills in our youth. However, if I have to be labeled a poor excuse for a role model, I would only want to be yours, Dancing Queen.

I'm sure we make Mama Dirt so proud! :)

Stupidest.Dream.Ever?

The "multiple" pairs of running shoes have been purchased.

The increase in the water bill for laundering extremely sweat-stained clothes has been budgeted.

The anti-chafe cream has been applied.

The nutrition plan that I will most likely not follow has been written.

And the training schedule has been posted on the fridge.

Three words.

I. Am. Scared.

Three more words?

Stupidest.Idea.Ever

(And yes, people, I am completely aware that stupidest is not proper grammar. But I am still delirious after reviewing what I have ahead of me for the next four months)

I am starting out slow.......

June 7 -   3 miles
June 8 -   3 miles
June 9 -   3 miles
June 10 - rest
June 11 - 6 miles

But then I flash to September.......

Sept. 13 - 5 miles
Sept. 14 - 10 miles
Sept. 15 - 5 miles
Sept. 16 - rest
Sept. 17 - 20 miles


WHAT THE F*&% WAS I THINKING?!

I was awake at 1:30pm (still in shock from staring at the months ahead) when Officer Bob returned home from his strenuous job. After the conversation that followed his arrival, I am 98% sure he also fears the weeks leading up to the bucket list dream from you know where. Running sometime makes me tired. Fatigue sometimes causes an increase in crankiness. An increase in crankiness usually leads to Officer Bob questioning his decision to co-habitate with me.

As sorry as you feel for my stupidity, you should feel even worse for what this man will have to endure during the coming months.

Oh....and then I have to sit and read stories like this sent from fellow runners. (I use the word "fellow" like I would totally fit in with "that" crowd without being totally awkward and giggling when talking about bleeding nipples. HA! Gets me every time!) A fellow runner sent me this article on how a bleepin' eight year old finished a half marathon.

I would like to highlight the parts of the article that totally ruined my self-esteem for the remainder of this week.

1. "I thought it was going to be harder," said Katarina, who averaged a 9:18 mile throughout most of the race before slowing down near the end.
2. So what was the toughest part of the journey? "Trying to get around the people who were blocking my way," she said.

Thank you, Katarina, for making this dream of mine seem like "just another day in the life of your average eight year old girl!" Ridiculous. Would it be unethical to trip a fellow racer if he/she is under the age of 10? I'm gonna need one helluva censor on race day if parents want to keep the marathon PG for their damn prodegy kids.

NOW......I NEED TO CONSISTENTLY REMIND MYSELF.......
After recent family struggles, there is no better and more meaningful time in my life to run this race for such a GREAT CAUSE. Please consider helping me in this dream. I truly looking forward to taking step after step forward. Step after step towards scratching off the bucket list dream of all dreams. Through all the cursing and ranting, please know that I am doing this for a reason. Not only for myself, but also for something deeper.

A Little Pomp And A Little Circumstance

Three cheers for Dancing Queen!

Hip Hip......Hooray!
Hip Hip......Hooray!
Hip Hip......Hooray!

Yesterday, Dancing Queen was the last of the siblings to graduate from good 'ol EHS. Number four, the baby, the tail end of the clan.......FINALLY made it! I could not be more proud of her. She is a beautiful, mature adult that I have no doubt will accomplish great things in life!

School was never easy for Dancing Queen. Living with epilepsy made it a little harder, but she is a great advocate for all that can be accomplished. She did NOT let the side effects of the illness and/or medication set her back. Learning in a classroom setting was a difficult task, and she persevered. Epileptic spells and family setbacks did not make senior year easy. I had to witness struggle after struggle, but through it all, I had the opportunity to observe the growth and strength of such an amazing woman. A woman with a contagious personality. A woman who shines in the face of adversity. A woman who's laughter can silence a crowd of a thousand. A woman who dances through life with an unbreakable spirit. And a woman who is not only my sister, but my best friend.

In honor of the "baby" graduating from high school, we each took our turn treating her as such.

Trust me, this girl milks every minute of being the youngest of four. Who wouldn't?

Dancing Queen held true to her name as she exited the ceremony. While all her classmates processed out in a distinguished fashion, Dancing Queen felt it was necessary to make that exit more entertaining. Her poor walking partner was less than amused by her need to jump around in heels.

Despite recent events that challenged this family, we were ALL able to attend this milestone. AND smile for a picture. That in itself, may actually be the proudest moment for us all.

Congratulations again, Dancing Queen! Fortunately for you, you will soon be attending the Alma mater of TWO of your older siblings. We know the best party houses, the shortcuts to class, and the cheapest methods of obtaining a fake ID. BUT I'm sure you won't need any of that information as you will most likely be too focused on your studies.

You are just beginning your journey, Dancing Queen. There will be speed bumps along the way, but know that I am ALWAYS a phone call away. Even at 2:00am. when you are vomiting outside of the Pace because you chose to purchase and consume a late night meal at the hot dog stand after downing several forms of hard alcohol. I love you enough to answer and laugh at such a rookie mistake. Trust me....it will happen.

Even though you were the last to get here, you shine like the first. Love you.

P.S. Another bucket list item checked off! I have been witness to the graduation of all siblings from the same high school halls. I heart my family. Even though they're Mexican.

2011: The Year of Procreation

Could it be possible?

Is this really happening?

I can't even grasp the concept.

My older brother Huracan Ramirez and his woman, Mama B, are having a BABY!

Un BEBE!

Huracan - the man who writes songs about dirty sanchezes and is still fairly incapable of sorting and washing his own laundry is reproducing. GOD HELP US! Is it bad that upon hearing this news, my first thought was to call Mama B and apologize for the future ahead of her? However, I have some good news, Mama B. Mexican babies are SUPER adorable. It's a shame that Huracan takes after the "cracka" side of the family, but I'm sure some of those chicano genes will come out somehow.

Baby Beans will be making his/her presence in early December.


This was my first gift to the happy couple.


I'm already the favorite Aunt. Can ya blame the kid?!

Furthermore, this ridiculous, crazy, can't-even-totally-comprehend-the-news announcement opens up the opportunity for a new segment for the Big Boca Bob blog. Along with Gunther Gab, I will be introducing Beans Blab.

I like babies.

When other people have them, of course.

My four-legged adopted children are enough trouble as it is. And I allow them to eat their own poop. I guess that's morally wrong for humans or something. I've still got some things to learn. Good thing I have nieces/nephews to practice with!

P.S. Surprisingly, Officer Bob is equally as excited (about babysitting for the poop eating kids).