Ah, it’s that time of year again. The Rib America Festival was our first big Hoosier thing that we did last year and one of the only things I was looking forward to this year. (Pardon my archives if you do actually click the links, they were mighty hammered in the move from blogger and I never fixed them.)

We’ve been saving up for a year to do Rib Fest right, and boy howdy did we.

Our friends and I chose PIGFOOT out of Ohio to grace us with their porkyness. Cody chose some place out of Texas and some other place that wasn’t as good as what I chose so who cares what he chose.

Let’s look at our meat.

After all the goodness had been eaten and we digested while seriously rocking out to a Beatles tribute band we turned our eyes to the dessert side of the festival.

GUESS WHAT WE SAW?

Oh, the flashbacks. Now would be a good time to tell you about what happened after the fair. The fried Pepsi caused me such insurmountable gas that I nearly burned a hole through my underwear, my pants and the couch. When it finally came out, well, let’s just say there was sweat involved. I didn’t poop again for four days.

Damn you fried Pepsi, DAMN YOU!

Needless to say one bite of funnel cake brought back bubble gut memories and instant nausea.

One bite is where my funnel cake chaser and Rib America 2007 ended.

Since the traumatic rewarding switch from Blogger one month ago there have been some ladies behind the scenes who have SAVED MY ASS helped me out on thousands several occasions. I have developed my own awards in the form of moosh photos to hand out to these lovely ladies whom without mooshinindy.com would be a big fat FATAL ERROR 500 message.

On to the nominees.

The first award of the evening goes to Heather at Oh my Stinkin Heck . Heather, I award to you the “Princess Snow Moosh of Blog Repair” award. All those times you were there in google chat, all those emails. All those ledges you talked me off of. Thanks girl, this blog stuff comes so to naturally to you, it kinda turns me on.

The second award of the evening goes to Jessica at Kerflop. I award you the “Independent moosh Making Chocolate Milk in a Lion Costume” award. You showed me the light of self hosing in Chicago. You started it. And one day when I figure it out and become just like you I’ll tip a tall frosty glass of non alcoholic chocolate milk to you. Until then I’ll keep up on my smutty celebrity gossip and laundry in your honor. Best of luck to you in all your, well, stuff that you do. There’s so much…it makes me need a nap.

Next up is the “Look at what a Princess I am” award which shall go to our third recipient of the evening. Sam over at Temporarily Me. Your blog designs are beautiful enough to lick and the fact that you parked your kid in front of Dora in my desperate hour of need makes me want to tattoo your name on my right breast. Wunderbarulous is what you are. Thanks.

The fifth award, the “moosh Covered in Tragic Clothes and Smelly Mud” award goes to Elizabeth over at Table For Five. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all your help and your award is just as prestigious as the other four but yours is covered is smelly mud because you posted this picture of me from blogher. While I still don’t feel vindicated, the help you gave me lessened the sting, slightly.

And to the rest of you who offered your mad HTML skills in support of my self hosted shriek of horror, thank you. To you I give the “Lion moosh hug of Warmth, Love and Snuggliness” award.

So tiny grandma (aka my mom) made the trek from dry bumpy Albuquerque to humid flat Indianapolis for the weekend. the moosh was stoked.
Feel the love.

Why do I call my mom tiny grandma?

Tiny grandma has quirks, ones I forgot about having not lived with her for awhile. Here are a few of them.
A. Her neti pot. She swears she’d die a slow horrible congested death without this thing. She uses it everyday. If she doesn’t, you’ll hear about it. She’ll even try to convince you to use one. I don’t. I think it’s weird. But whatever floats her sinuses.

B. Hair clips, always. Hair clips, everywhere.

C. Samples and trial sizes, girl loves samples and trial sizes like raccoons love shiny things. They go with her everywhere.

D. Shower cap, she’s the only person I know that uses a shower cap. I feel like I should use a shower cap because she does.

E. Bluetooth, when you call her expect a 14 second delay between “HELLO!” and the next word while she puts her headset in. I’d like to say Bluetooth was invented because of my mom.

So there’s a bit of background, on to her visit. I took her downtown to see the “art”.

Then I took her to eat cheeseburgers. Actually I just took her to wear the hat, the cheeseburgers were the bonus.

Then we blew bubbles. Actually I blew bubbles, the moosh popped them, tiny grandma photographed them.

I came really close to passing out right around bubble 2,876.

I took her to yoga with me. Little did we know the zoo was hosting a free yoga class outside the deserts pavilion.

Then we ran around and took pictures of my kid.
Because I don’t have enough pictures of her.

Did I mention tiny grandma is a photographer? Like for real for real? Buy and hang some of her stuff on your walls, or if you’re in New Mexico let her take your picture. She’s pretty stinkin’ good.

Would you expect any less from and Indiana zoo?

Looking for polar bears.

Looking for dolphins.

People say they can tell we are mother and daughter, I honestly couldn’t see it until this picture was taken.

On her last night in town the tiny moosh curled up in a tiny lap and watched Dora before bed.

the moosh misses tiny grandma.
I miss tiny grandma.
Come back soon tiny grandma.
Neti pot and all.

Remember all the jean trauma I went through last night?

Take this lame denim designers.

Regular length my keester. Where’s my shoes? This won’t work.

I have a sewing machine, I can fix this.

Check it. Totally hemmed. All by myself.

My awesomeness is available for hire.

Yo my peeps-
Pardon my temporary absence, I’m really busy being awesome.
Kisses, the moosh

Law Review, VP of the BLA, 16 credits and moot court. For anyone who’s dealt with law school you know what this means. For those of you who haven’t, it means I’m a single parent for a few months.

Apparently these aren’t going to be an easy few months.
 

This is the moosh and her little buddy E-Guido.

This is what happened when I tried to make my bed.

I should have seen it coming, last week when E-Guido was over the moosh told him where the cookies were stored and somehow convinced him that he should climb up and get them for her. He did.

Y’all, she can already convince a young man to destroy his own character so she can get cookies. She doesn’t even have boobs yet. I don’t know what’s worse, that she climbs on the counter to help herself or that she has the ability at two to convince a boy to do it for her. 

She’s gotten so used to me taking pictures of her when she’s in trouble that she now makes sure they’re good ones. What a toad. Where is her father?

OH? Yes, Cody is back in school. No, I can’t talk about what is going on because there’s a chance that “they” are googling, and I must keep a lot off the blog over the next few months. But trust me, it’s big. My appearances will be much fewer and much farther between, but trust me, when the spaghetti hits the floor I’ll be around to complain.

I’m not sure what a normal life with a two year old is like, I’ve never lived with one before. But tonight after she peed on my tile floor and mopped with it, I realized that a lot that goes on in these four walls would seem bat-crap crazy to any outside observer. (Especially you, the one who’s never lived with an alarm clock that wears footie pajamas and requires cereal.)

Normal in our house is the moosh smashing various body parts into various hard and sharp objects resulting in what “normal” people call owies. Us? We call them supertoughs. And when a new supertough crops up somewhere on the moosh’s body it leads to her asking grown men at the grocery store if she can see their supertoughs. Awkward you say? Nay, I say normal.

Our resident two year old giggles, a lot. I’m sure most “normal” two year olds do this, but hers is abnormally cuter than yours.

There’s also a lot of bodily flinging across all items resembling furniture at any given point in a day. I’m completely sure this is normal. If it’s not, don’t bother to tell her, she won’t listen, she’s two. Unless you tell her you have cookies, then you’ll have a new best friend who happens to do front flips off La-Z-Boys.

the moosh doesn’t smile, she cheeses it. Cheeses it like Cheez-Whiz in a can. Getting a “normal” smile out of her? Impossible. Again, I’m pretty sure this is normal.

the moosh wholly subscribes to the belief that anything put on your head is funny. Really, really funny. Which is why we normally wear a lot of different things on our heads.

And just when I feel like the moosh is growing up too fast and gaining way too much personality for someone who can’t even tie her own shoes, I notice that she brings a stuffy anywhere she goes. She doesn’t necessarily hold it, she just likes them nearby. You know, just in case.

It’s also normal to do a lot of yoga in our house and it’s very normal for the moosh to kick my trash at particular poses. Like this one.
Showoff.