That’s right, Peeps!  It’s ready!

The Money Bs are kicking it into high gear!  The ride is three measly weeks away and we have arranged transportation and lodging!  Some of us are even practicing riding for long distances. *AHEM*LISA*AHEM*

In order to make this all worthwhile, we want to raise as much money as possible.  I told you that I’d be having auctions, and I’m going to keep trying to do that, but I also told you there would be t-shirts available.  BOY HOWDY do we now have t-shirts available!

(Drumroll please)

THE MONEY BS CAFEPRESS STOREFRONT WITH WHICH TO MAKE MONEY FOR OUR MS RIDE!  CLICKHERECLICKHERECLICKHERE!

We gotcher t-shirts, we gotcher tank tops.  We’ve got hoodies and clocks and mugs and we’ve got DOG SHIRTS, fer cryin’ out loud.  And if you can’t see your way to buying a $3.00 button to wear on the fateful day of June 21st, which might reasonably be the last in my short life due to heart attack, well, I don’t know what to say.

Not only that, but imagine that on June 21st, you’re walking along in your tank top with your dog in matching t-shirt, jauntily swinging your rockin’ new tote festooned with min-button Money Bs flair, and you happen to run into someone who is wearing a suspiciously familiar cap and hoodie (they get cold easily).  You could totally say, “Hey!  Are you a Money B? Because I am!”

You go on to be bestest friends and when your kidneys fail your Money B best friend gives you one of theirs.  The End.  You see what you could miss all because of a $3 button??  Can you risk it?  Should you risk it? NO!  Renal failure is not fun!

To give you the rundown, all the items in the shop are made using the following images in various combinations:

Hopefully we’ll also soon have the “My Soul Has Wings” in the green cloud version that matches the green wings (clever, that, Kristina Marie!).  Until then, these are what we have.  So if you see something you like the look of, but you want it without the wings, or with the wings, or sans logo, or with logo but the blue not the red because blue brings out your beautiful eyes, well then just say the word and I’ll make it for you.  Made-to-order for all Money Bs!

We is now open fer business!  Step right in!

As always, our fabulous copyrighted graphics are the property of Kristina Ackerman at Like A House on Fire dot Com and use of these graphics without express permission from the artist is strictly prohibited.

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Could it REALLY be the best Wallace photo ever?  Could it?

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FUNDRAISING STUFF!

I’m working on it, Peeps.  I’m driving Kristina Marie nuts with the neverending questions and I’m not quite sure why it’s not working the way it’s supposed to, but we’ll get there.  I have decided to use CafePress instead of having things individually printed up, because I can’t believe I’d sell enough t-shirts to cover the cost of a general printing.  

Another bonus of CafePress is that they do things other than t-shirts, so while you may not want a t-shirt, a three dollar magnet is right up your alley.  Need a mouse mat?  Can do!  Also I can do all the different designs or make you something you specifically want.  Basically, with CafePress I can make a lot more things the way you really want it and make it at a price where some of the money might actually go to the research foundation!

Please keep in mind that while it’s wonderful to buy anything for this ride, if you don’t want the stuff but do want to donate, the easiest and fastest way is directly through my MS site.  CafePress takes a large chunk of the money out of the transactions that go through them, so while I applaud and encourage you to buy stuff to raise awareness and support the team (GO TEAM!) not a large chunk of what you buy is going to go directly to the research.  I promise that whatever profit we do see will be donated directly to the ride.

Speaking of the ride, it’s three weeks away.  70 miles in a weekend, 35 miles in a day.  I should be up to 20 or 25 mile practice rides by now, right?

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA!

No.

But these things wouldn’t be fun unless I was terribly out of shape and damned near killing myself every year, would they?

WATCH THIS SPACE!

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When Wallace and I travel I took to safety pinning a circle of construction paper onto the back of his shirt with his name and my cell number on it.  The idea being, occasionally he bolts, and getting through security as a single parent is like some sort of nightmare gauntlet.  It was safe to assume that my hawk-mommy-eyes wouldn’t leave him for a second, but there was always an outside chance that he’d suddenly do a runner when I had my clothes off so that they could make sure my underwire bra wasn’t a gun.

True story:  I had been visiting Nana Poopyhands and we were taking Wallace back through the airport.  He was about two and a half years old.  We were walking nicely when he suddenly took off, full speed ahead.  I ran after him and managed to keep him in sight until he ducked left into a terminal.  As I rounded the corner, he put his little fists out, shook his booty at me with the biggest shit-eatin’ grin you ever want to see and sang out, “Trouble trouble trouble. Trouble trouble trouble.”

Yeah, so the Circle of Location was a standard Poopyhands item.

Now, some enterprising, genius parent who is going to make eleventytrillion dollars has come up with temporary tattoos that you can have made with your name and cell number.  They are waterproof, and unlike circles of construction paper, don’t involve dangerous pins.  They can also not be torn off, unless by a bear, and at that point you have bigger problems.

Check these out:  Child Safety Tattoos

They are $20 for 30 tattoos.  I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to be taking Wallace to 30 water parks or on 3o airplanes this year.  The price seems more than reasonable. Go check ‘em out!

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Or: I don’t know what just happened

So, I went out to dance downtown on this brisk and chilly spring day.  I’ve never felt more awkward in my life.  When I first began dancing at Liquid, nobody was watching because everyone was too busy dancing.  It was easy to warm up because nobody was really looking.

In contrast, there were three young people out today to dance and generally only one couple was up at a time, so there was nobody dancing and a LOT of people watching.  And these pants are not good for dancing and kept trying to fall down.  And it’s been seven years since I danced properly.

I got two really good dances in and two half-assed ones.  One guy there could truly dance and two people there were sort of okay at it. 

I DON’T KNOW!

They were kids.  These kids were kids.  They were in their early 20’s and bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and bouncy and KEYEWT.   I felt out of place. I  kept saying to myself that it doesn’t matter, because it doesn’t.  It doesn’t matter that I’m out of practice.  It doesn’t matter that I’m so much older.  It doesn’t matter that I’m heavy.  It doesn’t matter it doesn’t matter. 

Okay, my pants matter.  I need better dancing pants and dancing shoes.  That matters. 

Those two dances were a lot of fun.  I want to do it again.

I can’t decide if I’m starting a new chapter or trying to relive an old one.  I have no street cred anymore, and it’s going to be tricky to get people to dance with me.  I’m going to be frustrated with myself for a while until I get my sea legs back.   If I’m starting over, this could be really a lot of fun.  If I’m trying to relive, I’m destined for failure because I will never be 22 again.  I will never be those kids again.

I told TT, what I need is dancing pants and dancing shoes and to lose weight and practice and get cute STAT.  What I need is two-weeks of salads and dancing-with-the-stars type seven-hours-a-day practice.  I’m not going to get it.

But the guy who really could dance, he informally invited me out to the Dolphin tonight at 10pm.  I was invited to come out with the crowd.  I also had fun.  TT said that I sounded bright on the phone, even while I was laughing at how awkward it was.

I don’t think I’m probaby going to go out tonight.  I think I may have had enough of standing around waiting for someone to ask me to dance for one day.  Also, I need better pants and shoes.

It was prettty goddamend weird.  I don’t know what I think of it at all.

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Yesterday we went to our friend’s annual Memorial Day BBQ and it was wonderful.  The food was amazing, as was the company.  The weather was warm and friendly and there were two (2!) children there about Wallace’s age.

They played with cars and stickers and coloring and ran their butts off for the better part of three hours straight.

A quick shout-out to Wallace’s mad sharing skillz.  I’m not kidding, he will hand over whatever he has that another kid wants.  Sometimes he does it reluctantly, but will almost always do it of his own accord.  The toys aren’t as important to him as the social harmony.  Kids trump stuff.  He’s a good sharer.

In more ways than one.

I was sitting on the grass at one point when I hear a mighty hollar from across the yard, “Mommy!  I hafta use de toilet!”

I steer Mr. Man in the direction of the house and we walk in the back door.  Wallace stops, throws out his hands and yells out, “HEY!  EVERYBODY!  I HAFTA USE DE TOILET!”

All the kidless twentysomething musicians cooly drinking beers and wine obligingly make appreciative noises.

We use the facilities and on the way out Wallace stops again at the back porch and says, loudly, in the manner in which you’d let a crowd know that the sound system was up and running again and the show would commence in moments, “I AM ALL DONE WIF DE POTTY!  I USED IT!”

Again, he received amused, yet supportive group props.

Sometimes your Peeps gotta know.

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That’s right!  Teh Crazy has reached a level where I don’t want to share it with the general public.  If you’re interested in watching me come utterly unhinged, feel free to email me to request the password: KBee42@gmail.com

If you are interested in basically normal stuff, funnies and Wallace updates, you won’t need the password.  I promise not to lock that stuff away.

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