true friendship and a breast pump

I have a friend, who shall remain unnamed (not in the creepy way of Voldemort, he who must not be named or whatever Harry Potter people say).......

Anyway, my friend and I have known each other since birth.  We are related (second cousins, once removed, I think - I googled it because I wasn't sure)...but more than being cousins of some sort, we are friends.

She's this sort of friend:  (disclaimer to any male readers:  stop reading now and go to SportsCenter or something manly...we're about to use words like breast, milk and pump.  You should get out while you still have time.)

Anyway, like I was saying, she's this sort of friend:

After my first child was born, my friend came to visit us when we got home from the hospital.  She happened to pop in just as my husband was assembling the mega-superindustrial breast pump that we rented.  We're chatting on the couch as he is sorting through the bottles, tubing, and those suction cup funnel things.  Mind you, my hubby is a fix-it kind of guy.  Not a read the directions kind of guy, but he can usually figure things out because he's smart like that.  Breast pump?  No problem.  He's also a wannabe farmer so I guess he figured it can't be much different than a milker for ol' Bessie.

Meanwhile, my milk had come in.  And I don't mean, my milk came in.  I mean, my boobs went from an A cup to a triple M and were ready to burst.  My skin was so tight that I actually thought my breasts might explode. 

I tried to remain calm as we chatted, secretly thinking in my head, "Get the thing together already or we are all going to be covered in milk."

My friend, who has a child and is generally handy and knowledgeable about such things asked if he wanted help. 

No.  He could do it.

I think she detected by the way I was rocking and holding my breasts that something needed to happen here or it might get ugly.  She offered to help again.  This time he accepted and in 2 seconds, she had the megapump 2000 ready to go.

By this time, my milk engorged breasts had hardened into giant cement balloons.  The funnel things went on but not much milk came out.  My friend suggested massaging my breasts. 

Here's a tip:  You can't hold 2 funnel things onto your own breasts and massage them at the same time. 

The solution?

My friend kneeled down in front of me and held the funnels on while I rubbed my boobs to try and keep them from exploding.

That is true friendship.

I'm not sure any other person would have done that for me.

She may have saved my life that day.

Because I'm pretty sure if your boobs explode, you'd die.

unpeeve

I looked back on my post labels, and most of them are marked as pet peeves.

I must be a really picky person if that's all I can blog about.

So I thought I'd give a shout out every once in a while to some "unpeeves".  That is, things that do NOT bother me, but actually please me.

Yesterday, I happened upon an unexpected unpeeve. 

After driving almost 2 hours, I had to use the restroom.  Superfrydad stopped at a gas station.

Now, let's just break here and let me say that on the scale of acceptable bathroom stops, a gas station ranks just above weeds next to the road.

However, this gas station bathroom was an "unpeeve".  It was big, it was clean, it was stocked with paper products, and the lock on the door worked.  All of these things pleased me, hence it's "unpeeve" status. 

So, random gas station, you have the honor of the first "unpeeve" of KWTF (Ketchup with the Frys)

Congratulations.  If I had the readership of Pioneer Woman, I would give you an iPad, a stand mixer, or an Anthropologie gift card.  Since I don't, you get nothing.   Except my approval.  Which should be highly valued, because clearly I have a lot of pet peeves.  But you are not one of them.  Unless I stop there again and you disappoint me. 

Now that I think of it...there was one annoying thing about you.  There was a handwritten sign that said "Pull" on the inside of the toilet stall door. 

Here's the thing:  If you need a sign to tell you to pull after you pushed unsuccessfully, you probably shouldn't be going to the bathroom unsupervised.

WithTheFrys

I have a bad relationship with my name.  See my first post.

My initials?  ALF

My husband thinks this is hilarious.  I do not.

My name backwards?  ASSila

One of my friends used to think this was hilarious.  I did not.

The name of my blog in acronym form?  KWTF

I am mortified that I spent so much time thinking about the perfect name for my family blog, and now I've discovered that it includes unintentional profanity.

So now I guess I have to always type out Ketchup with the Frys.....I was hoping my blog would get to the place where I could give it a cute acronym or cool nickname, kind of like JLo or SCsquared (does anyone knows who SCsquared is?)

Anyway, I guess the curse of my name follows me here on the blogosphere too.

And if you know who SCsquared is, let me know.  You can't google it, because you won't get the right answer, so don't try.  There's no prize anyway, because this is a loser blog with no sponsors.  If I did have sponsors, I would give you something.  But you just wasted like 2 minutes reading a blog called KWTF, so I wouldn't waste anymore time thinking about SCsquared because you're not going to get anything for it.

not having to dial 911 while doing yard work is a plus

There was a bee's nest in the ground next to our well. 

Superfrydad discovered it while doing some yard work and proceeded to launch his attack.

I happened to look out the window and saw him walking across the yard with a big long pole that had cloth wrapped around the end of it. 

A man + gasoline + fire = disaster waiting to happen.

I got the phone ready in case I needed to dial 911.

He sat and watched the smoke and fire from a safe distance. 

I removed my finger from the 9.

Then he came inside and cut an empty coke bottle in half.  When I asked him what he was doing, he ignored me.

I put my finger back on the 9.

Obviously, he thought he needed to add a little bit more gasoline to the fire.

What is it with men and fire?

The next day he sprayed a whole can of Raid down in the hole. 

I'm pretty sure the bees are gone.

And we did not have to dial 911.

Mission accomplished.

Just like not getting stabbed is always a plus, not having to dial 911 when your husband is doing yard work is also a plus.

nascar prayer

Superfrydad likes Nascar.  Yes, that's the man I married.  No, I didn't care at the time, but it does annoy me now.  But I'm not perfect either, so I won't go there.  Anyway....

Tonight I happened to catch a glimpse of a few moments of the pre-race show for the Nationwide series.  They have a prayer and then the National Anthem. 

The prayer was quite possibly the worst prayer I've ever heard.  (The funniest one was one time when I was at my friend's house as a kid & my friend said "Amen, hot dog." at the end of grace.  It was not very funny to her parents.  It was almost as bad as saying a cuss word. Shout out to Day By Day and Simply Us!)

The pastor was praying and saying things like, "thank you, Lord, for Sunoco gas", "thank you, Lord, for Good Year tires."....then he said, "thank you for my smokin' hot wife".

Say what?

What is this world coming to?  I mean, it's nice that Nascar offers a prayer before the race, and often the pastors read them off of a piece of paper, which is ridiculous.  This brings it to a new low.   They should just not have it if they are going to make a mockery of it. 

(stepping down from high horse now)

hotter than a fart in a mitten

It's really hot & humid outside.

Therefore, the air conditioner that cools my home decided it would stop working today.

Tomorrow and the next day are supposed to be 99 and 100 degrees, respectfully.  (I'm too lazy to figure out how to make the little 0 thing for the degrees.)

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before that I don't like hot weather.  And I don't like summer.

But when my A/C stops working in the middle of a heat wave?

Summer, I hate you even more.

My feet have sweat dripping from them.  That is not even an exaggeration.  I know it sounds like it, but it is actually true. 
I'm also trying to type fast because I'm afraid the sweat from my hands is going to short-circuit my laptop at any moment.

The only thing that I like about summer is that is gives me more opportunities to say "It's hotter than a fart in a mitten." 

This is perhaps my favorite phrase of all time.  It always makes me laugh. 

Is it inappropriate?  yes
Is it a bit crass?  yes
Is it kind of rude?  yes
Is it the worst thing I say?  pretty much
Is that so terrible?  maybe.......or maybe it's not.  It really depends on your level of tolerance for potty humor. 

I would like to say that I am much more sophisticated than this, but alas, I am not.

common sense - is there an app for that?

Last night we watched a few minutes of a show that was called something like, "I Survived" or "I Shouldn't Be Alive" or "I almost died, but I didn't"...you know the ones.

This guy was saying he was in the lobby of his hotel in Haiti when the earthquake happened.  His leg was badly injured & he said he was covered in rubble.  It was super dark, so he crawled to the elevator and got out his cell phone.  Then he said something like this:

"My phone didn't have any service, but I did remember I had a first aid app, so I looked up what to do for bleeding since my leg was bleeding really badly.  It said to wrap it up and apply pressure, so I took my shirt off and used it to wrap up my leg."

Let me say 2 things here:
1.  Why would you crawl to the elevator after an earthquake?  I'm pretty sure it's common knowledge that you don't take the elevator in case of fire.  Even though there are no signs in elevators instructing you to NOT use them in case of an earthquake, I'm pretty sure you shouldn't. 

2.  Did you really need your first aid app on your cell phone to tell you that if you are bleeding, you should wrap it and apply pressure?

I just don't see myself firing up my first aid app post any natural disaster.

Is there a common sense app? 

Because this guy might find that handy at some point too.