Wednesday, August 29, 2007

8 years...

It has been 8 years today since my amazing father passed away. For those who might not know, my Dad (Roger) was killed in a tragic accident when I was 16. He and I had been so close. We spent countless hours watching baseball, fishing, and going on our long drives through the country. He was a truly remarkable man, and not just in my eyes. He could always make people laugh and he never ceased to have a smile. He also was always ready to help anyone and everyone who might need it. He had a servant’s heart. I can’t think of a time when my dad ever told anyone he was too busy or too tired to help. He was forever ready to lend his time, money, or anything else he could give.
It was unbelievably tough for me to lose him. I struggled for a very long time with questions, doubts, anger, and frustration. It was a few years later, and after a lot of prayer that I was finally able to move past the hurt and into the acceptance. It was God’s will to take my dad that day. I will never know why, and you know – that’s ok. It’s not for me to know. My dad was a truly incredible person and he deserves every minute he’s getting in Heaven. He deserves being in a place without pain, and I’m glad that he’s rejoicing with his Savior. I’m sure that he greets everyone he passes with a great big “Howdy” as he always did. I have a lot of people ask how I’m able to talk about my dad so often without it being uncomfortable, and the truth is that it is talking about him and remembering him that makes it so easy to get by. I love to think about all of the goofy things he did, and remember all of the times we spent laughing. I love to hear other’s memories of my dad and how he impacted their lives. I choose to remember the good and focus on it. Don’t get me wrong; I have my moments. There are times I hurt so badly, times I wish he was here to see my girls grow up, times I wish I could ask for his advice. But I keep focus on what I know… and what I know is that I was blessed beyond belief to have had him in my life for the 16 years that I did. I got to call one of the purest, sweetest, and best of men my “Daddy,” and I’m all the better for it. I will ask of everyone I know who knew him not to grieve on this day. Please rejoice and remember Roger’s life. Remember how awesome he was and know that while we miss him terribly here, God needed him there; and His plan is better than any of our’s could ever be.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Email conversations...

The following dialogue took place between Jessica and I via email earlier this week:
(*disclaimer… this is not G-rated, and possibly contains false information as well as sexist notions, please read (or don’t) accordingly)

Jessica: Hello Darling! I’m wearing my new scent of choice, but I can’t tell if it smells good or if it wears well throughout the day. Care to take a whiff?

Kayla: Well, I would love to help but my *sniffer is completely blocked. Perhaps if it is in better condition tomorrow?
*This is in reference to me having a stuffy nose…

Jessica: Haha. I’m an idiot. =) Yes, perhaps another day that your little guy isn’t under the weather. Did I just say your nose was of the opposite sex?

Kayla: You did just refer to my nose as a boy. I will have to agree with that seeing as only something with a penis would cause a girl as much trouble as this sniffer of mine has.

Jessica: I would try and comment back to that, but what you just said was brilliant – pure genius!

Kayla: Don’t you know that this is why I call our *monthly visitor* George, rather than Aunt Flo like so many others do? It is because I feel that periods must have a penis. Nothing of female origin would dare cause another female that sort of agony. I mean, it was men who invented the bra, and pantyhose (I’m sure) and all other things of nuisance to women.

Jessica: High hells – oops, I mean high heels…Hmm. What else? There are tons of things I feel. And you are oh so right about calling *him* George. In fact, I think from now on I will do the same.

Kayla: I am SURE that a human with a penis was behind the concept of women shaving legs/underarms and the like. I mean, I do not like to have hair in those places, no doubt. However, I’m sure it didn’t bother women of generations past until some a-hole man decided we looked better without it. And now here we are, spending countless hours ridding ourselves of it. Never you mind that men don’t worry about it. They just go through life – day in and day out – letting leg and underarm hair grow and grow; and they sure as hell don’t ever have to worry about a bikini line. I mean, even the metrosexuals who trim *down there* don’t have to be concerned about going to the beach if they’ve gone a few days without grooming. Those huge, oversized board shorts cover it all up. Which leads me to another man-invented thing. Bikini’s – but that’s for another day.

Jessica: You are on a roll darling! And don’t even get me started pm everything else. Why is it that women must be obsessed with our hair? Products! Coloring! Cuts! New style after new style! All the while, guys were intended to look absolutely heavenly with nothing more than bed head? Why? It takes me hours to look the way I do, but I’m supposed to swoon over something that put no more thought into what he looked like than “which ball cap am I wearing today?” I could look hot with bed head too, but like you said, some a-hole man decided that it would be unacceptable to run around in this fashion.

Kayla: and make up, REALLY? Why must I paint on a face every day (well.. who am I kidding; I only wear makeup on the weekends) to impress a man who probably never even washes his? I must go through layers upon layers of foundation, powder, shadows and blushes, lipsticks and lipglosses, eyeliner, mascara; on and on and on and on – plus spend insane amounts of money on the crap. Meanwhile boys simply run a razor over the 4square inches of their beardline and call it done. I quit. I will become a man. It is as simple as that.

Jessica: Not to mention jewelry and nails?! Colored toenails, really? Yes, because that’s going to get me farther in life. Me man too!

Kayla: My only concern with being a man is the fascination that all males seem to have with their genitalia; and it’s from birth. Smallish men things play with their “junk” even before they know what it’s used for. All of this leads me to believe that because this equipment would be new to me, I would do absolutely nothing but play with myself for months on end, and I refuse to have that much contact with a penis. Refuse.

Jessica: Speaking of males, one just burped disturbingly loud in my office. Why is this acceptable? Why must we be prim, proper and polished when men remain to be piggish, pouty and pungent?

Kayla: Precisely. If I were to just belch right out loud here in the office I would be looked upon as trashy, low-class, rude, etc, while I’m sure whichever of the boy species burped in your office is being congratulated by the other boys for such a wonderful display of gas-release.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

"Yes, Kayla; it is normal to...

Stick your finger in a pig's ass." There's a title for ya.

I happen to be a little bit of a *hick* if you will, and I participated in events dubbed "Stock Shows" in my high school years. As it happens, Jessica also *showed* (as we "in the know" call it) and she and I somehow happened on the topic the other night. We were discussing hogs, purple oil, boars that by chance made it thru to the big show, etc when I asked her if she had ever performed anal protrusion on a pig. She, indeed, had not.

As it happened - I was somewhat of a stock show rookie the year the incident went down. I was on my way to show this particular pig when one of the stock show moms (who is loud and obnoxious and overbearing) stopped me and asked me to *give her my finger.* I was clueless as to what she might need with it and unwittingly held it out. She proceeded to slather on some rather warm feeling gupe and instructed me to stick my finger, with the warm gupe, into the pig's butt hole. I realize that most humans, expecially female humans, would have at that point given the woman a *different* finger and told her to do it herself - but I was naive and went ahead with the procedure. It didn't do any good as my pig was promptly sent "to the trucks."

When I saw how completely foreign this whole thing seemed to Jess I started to wonder. Was I bamboozled? Is there a video out there labled "watch this dumb girl stick her finger in a pig's butt? Have people been poking fun at me for years without my knowledge? After more consideration I decided it must be true; it was a joke at my expense. They had chosen me - the most gullable creature on earth - to be the victim of a cruel prank. A-holes.

I believe Jess could see how distraught (sp?) I was about the whole mess - so she proceeded to call her dad at midnight to enquire as to the vailidity of putting warm gupe you know where. Validation was mine, folks - it is apparently normal practice to do this (I won't say *stick your finger in a pig's ass* again.. it's gross) in order to make a pig move better/faster.

I believe this will be yet another tale that I will regret posting... I also believe a new mantra is in order : *I will NOT post embarrassing/humiliating/gross stories involving myself anymore.*
*I will NOT post embarrassing/humiliating/gross stories involving myself anymore.*

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

"Shut-Up You Little Nerds"

I was on a conference call today with a loan officer and his assistant who were both using insanely large words and fancy schmancy banker talk to try and convince me to *alter* the terms of a loan. I wasn't budging, I knew they were wrong, and after a few minutes of their continued pleading the thought popped in my head; "Shut-Up You Little Nerds." Why that phrase you ask?? Let me explain.
I don't remember a whole lot about my childhood/adolescense, but I do remember one particular teacher very well. I believe her name was Ms. Thomas and she was our 8th grade science teacher. I remember that she always sold us those giant pickles in class and that she would say quite regularly "Shut-Up You Little Nerds" I think I realize now why she sold the pickles (aside from the fact that I'm almost positive she pocketed the money).

A bunch of 8th graders+giant pickles shoved in their throats=silence. Smart woman. Now I must figure out how to shove giant pickles in a few choice loan officer's mouths.

P.S. All you Slatonites out there - do you remember this lady? Was it Ms. Thomas?

One is 4 months old, the other is a DaVinci!

Kenly was 4 months old on the 4th, and today was her checkup and shots. She's in the 56th percentile for weight and the 91st for height. Apparently the McMillan chicks are ALL going to be taller than Allen! Ashlyn has stayed in the 95th percentile for height since birth... which means these poor girls are in for a childhood of towering over their peers and being teased constantly. Wonderful. Don't get me wrong - I love being so tall now (and I'm glad the girls will have some height), but it is not fun when you're 9 years old and stand 2 heads above everyone else your age. Ah well.... everyone gets teased about something, right?

This is the latest pic of "Baby K".... all 4 months of her!
This afternoon I decided to take the girls outside and let Ashlyn play with sidewalk chalk. Of course, I had to get in on the action, too. I asked Ashlyn what she wanted me to draw and she yelled "ME!" I think we're going to have issues with this child and vanity... hmm. Anyway - here is my attempt at "Chalking" Ashlyn! *** I will note that this is actually like 5 feet long in the driveway... I guess I got a little carried away***

And here she is... the artist at work.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Why can't I be one of those??

(The *uniques* that is.) You know, the geniuses, the artsy, the writers, the musicians, etc. But not just any old *unique,* I'm talking about the ones who are extreme. Writers who lock themselves away from society for years, those who have so much intelligence they can't interact in society..I have recently come across quite a few of these intriguing souls and I find myself longing to be one. One might say, "Kayla, you are weird." Yes, I'm *weird*, but that's the negative connatation. In all honesty I'm quite cookie cutter - married, kids, 8-5 job, so on and so forth. Do not get me wrong; I LOVE my roles as a wife and mother and wouldn't trade them. I just wish there was something at least minutely *unique*about me. Such as a passion for abstract art, a zest for rare and fine wine (I currently drink a bottle of $5.99 crap), a ridiculous need for expensive shoes even. (Jimmy Choos, what?)... something that puts me against the grain. I believe it's my new mission. I will search my brain for my inner *unique*... any suggestions??

My Hot Hubby

Allen is working in Plainview this week so he's been driving home every night - and it has been SO nice. He helps so much and the girls are just happier when he's around. It's also great to be here when he comes in from work - he's dirty and smells like grease but it's so sexy! He mentioned the other night that he is ready for another baby... which I believe is a terrific idea. He'll just have to borrow some other woman - because this baby baking factory is closed for awhile!! 3 kids under 3?? I'm pretty sure that's a one way ticket to insanity. I will ask that no on invite us to any amusement parks, as the last 2 times we've been to 6 flags we've come home pregnant.

Oh - shout out to B-Hop, I have a question for you. How do you read this blog with your trick eye?? (Hey - Tonya said we have to play nice around her- but I can annoy you via internet!)

Wednesday, August 1, 2007


ouch... I was thrown for a very big loop recently, and my feelings are hurt. I suppose the answer is to: A. STOP being so damn sensitive and B. Stop caring about others so much. I truly wish I had the "I don't give a damn what people think of me" attitude. I've tried and tried to be unmoved by other's opinions but I can't do it. Why do I let other humans (some merely aquaintences) have so much power over my life? Ugh.