Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Hair Gel Fun

There is a hair gel I use to get my hair straight. Unfortunately, if I use a little bit too much product, my hair looks greasy. This morning I was in a hurry and didn't have time to rewash it so I combed cornmeal through it. That's right, Mom, I USED CORNMEAL.

There is a story I have to share. When I was a kid, we went camping in some primitive places. One time we camped where there was no way to wash our hair. My Mom showed me how to comb through cornmeal to get the grease out.

Well, I was going through the stage where I hated to wash my hair. So after we got home, and before school, I was just combing cornmeal through my hair instead of washing it. This went on until my big sis ratted me out. Apparently one day, I went to school with huge globs of cornmeal stuck in my hair. The teachers probably thought I had a new kind of dandruff. LOL

Today, before I left the house, I had my husband make sure no cornmeal was lodged in my hair. I went to my Tuesday morning Mommy group. Towards the end of group, I scratched my head and realized there was still cornmeal on my scalp. History repeats itself.

Maybe I'll buy a new hair gel.
Another thing I did as a kid was pretty lame too. There were some metal barrels in our backyard. Maybe they were about five gallons each. I sat in one with my knees curled up to my chest and got stuck in the barrel. My Grandma had to drizzle corn oil all over me to get me out. My cousin, John, who was much smaller than me did it first, but he didn't get stuck.
One time, cousin John showed me how he could hang on the clothesline. I tried it and the line broke. I whumped to the ground and all the air was knocked out of me. It was quite painful. I think he got me in trouble as much as I got him in trouble.
I also remember one summer day when I was really hot and I wanted my grandmother to take me to the lake. She wouldn't take me.

I sat a cooking pan upside down in a mud puddle. Then I put an innertube around the pan and sat on the pan. It appeared as if I was floating on an innertube in a mud puddle.

I told her that when people driving by stopped and asked me why I was floating in a mud puddle, I would tell them it was because my grandmother was too mean to take me to the lake.

My grandfather got home, saw me in the puddle, swore up a blue streak, and made her take me to the lake.

I won a round! Ha ha.

Monday, August 29, 2005

Peaceful Dinner

We had the most amazing family dinner tonight. It was semi-peaceful!

A didn't complain about the food. She ate the whole plate.

SJ ate well also. He didn't dance on the table or pour his water into his food. He stole a few bites of my Weight Watchers and quickly realized that his chock full o'fat meal tasted much better.

J was pretty much pleasant.

Dinner was easy to make. We had pasta with a white sauce and canned corn. It's funny how the kids prefer the "need to get my butt to the grocery store" dinner to the ones that take planning. If we weren't out of bread, I would wait a few more days to go to the store.

J told me not to bother with trying to stay on my points and A said, "She has to, because she's fat!"

Ah, from the mouths of babes. I should be setting a good example and telling the girls that I am delightfully Rubenesque. Unfortunately, it is too late for that now.
Today I cut SJ's hair. It is so messed up. It's bald above and behind the ears a little bit. It's long and crooked in the back. The top in the middle is shorter than the rest. It looks like we're working towards a mullet. Thank goodness for curly hair. This child needs a barber 911 intervention.
I was going to take the kids somewhere today. I really was. But we stayed home. I was feeling a bit blue and something is blooming and stuffing up my nose. AAACHOO!
It is time to rescue my kitchen from SJ's TLC!

Where Did This Come From?

I found this pic on my desktop. I'm not sure who sent it to me. I probably saved it from an e-mail and then forgot to look at it. Duh. Anyway, it's kind of cute, so I thought I'd post it before I delete it.

The hubby will be reinstalling EVERYTHING tonight so I am trying to clean up my desktop before he does.

No telling when we will be up and able to post again.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Nice Shirt, Huh?

Can you read the words on this shirt? It's a junior shirt, advertised at Kohl's. Wait until you're married girls, but don't forget to advertise. (In case the photo is too blurry for some of you, it reads "Wild Ride".)
My MIL took the girls and me to see "March of the Penguins" this weekend. It's basically a National Geographic type documentary. Like most of these documentaries, there is of course a mating scene. Yes, I started laughing in the theater like a juvenile. I'm always impressing others in public. I just have a knack for it, I guess. The penguins were really fat, as they had been eating all summer. The male was behind the female. She was on her belly backing up to him. Of course, I was thinking, "beep beep beep" like the sound a big truck makes. Couldn't quit laughing.

Also, every time it snowed in the darn movie, it felt like the air conditioner blew even harder in the theater. Were they messing with us or am I just paranoid?
My MIL went to the Behind the Stove blog spot, then followed the link to the "which Harry Potter character are you sexually compatible with" quiz, and she got Hagrid. Ha ha ha, and I thought Dumbledore would be bad.
I had this dream about a week ago where I dreamed a watermelon grew lips and kissed me. Eeeew! Does anyone know what this is about?
I plan on finishing my seven day vacation blogging, but may not. When I read it, I realized how boring I really am. Every now and then, I get slapped in the face with that.
My very favorite guilty pleasure comes out on September 20th. This is the season premier of "Nip/Tuck. This is the one time of the week the kids are supposed to get the heck out of the room and LEAVE MOMMY ALONE. I'm not always successful, but I try like heck!
"S Is For Silence" by Sue Grafton comes out in December. Guess what's on my Christmas list? I have read all of her alphabet novels except for "R Is For Riccochet". Couldn't get into that one. Has anyone read the "R"? Does it ever get good?
Have a great Monday.

Saturday, August 27, 2005

Fantasy Week Continued

I finished my bath and it was around two o'clock on day one. I was thinking about lunch.

I went to the freezer and found a Thai peanut chicken rice bowl. A beautiful aroma wafted from the microwave as it cooked. Nobody came in the kitchen saying, "I'm hungry, Mom" the very second I was beginning to eat.

For dessert, I had a piece of frozen Pepperidge Farms three layer chocolate cake. They're best when they're frozen.

Fat was coursing through my veins making me very sleepy. Six years of sleep deprivation had piled up. I decided to put Rip Van Winkle to shame and take a nap. I slept two hours.

When I woke up, I turned on the TV. I flicked from channel to channel and found a CSI marathon. Brainlessly, I stared at the tv for three hours. I heard EVERY SINGLE WORD!

After watching television, I went to the kitchen and popped some kettle corn. I LOVE kettle corn. It was all mine. I didn't have to hide around the corner so the two-year old wouldn't want some. (choking hazard) I ate it ON THE COUCH! Nobody jumped on my lap and spilled it.

Around eight thirty, I picked up another book. Kim Harrison had written a fourth volume in her "Dead Witch Walking" series. I read until my eyelids hurt and fell asleep on my very comfortable couch.

What a lovely start to my fantasy week.

Friday, August 26, 2005

My Fantasy Week

My in-laws are coming today so there is no way possible the whole fantasy week will be finished. I need to get back to being Cinderella.

For my fantasy week, I will send the husband and kids visiting relatives for a week. If they did something like Disneyland, I would have to go. Although considering the length of the lines, I hesitate to call it the "happiest" place on earth.

Of course before they leave, I have stocked up on books, chocolate and paper plates. Day One at least, has to be about decompressing. I kiss them good-bye the night they leave feeling sad and gleeful at the same time. Certainly some things I will miss but I will appreciate them more after my week off.


I slept until ten in the morning! I turned to look at the clock at seven and then rolled back over like a sloth. I had the whole bed to myself all night long! I slept in the middle, sprawled out diagonally. There was no room for anybody else.

When I got out of bed, my back didn't ache. My eyes didn't feel like lead curtains over a pile of sand, because nobody woke me up all night long. Ah heaven.

For breakfast I had Eggo Waffles, the strawberry ones with syrup and a whole glass of ice-cold milk. MMMMMMM. I didn't have to serve anybody else first. Nobody stuck their fingers in my plate. Nobody danced on the table. Nobody watched annoying cartoons. Nobody talked endlessly while I waited for them to shut the hell up and let me have some peace and quiet.

After breakfast, I threw on my sweats, walked down the drive and grabbed my newspaper. When I got back in the house, I immediately removed my bra and threw my pajamas back on. I took an hour and read the paper from end to end.

After I was done with the paper, I picked up the newest novel by Charlaine Harris. I finished it in about two and a half hours. It's amazing what you can do with no interruptions!

It was time for chocolate. Did I mention the stash of peanut butter cups I hid in the freezer? They were so good. I ate four of them, that's right four! I'm already fat, what's a thousand more calories?

Now it was time to pamper myself. The last four hours were just my warm-up!

I removed my microdermabrasion kit from the cupboard. I washed my face and then turned on the little rotating sponge covered with stuff designed to sandblast my face. My skin felt so good.

I filled the bathtub. What was that noise? Oh wait, it was a lack of noise. Nobody was screaming at the bathroom door. In fact, I didn't even have to shut the door! I soaked in the tub for thirty minutes with a deep conditioner in my hair while reading a book. At the end of the bath I pedicured my feet and rinsed off. Then I painted my toenails bright red. That's like putting a neon sign on a mack truck, but I don't care.

Well I am only halfway through day one, but SJ is being a turd. One thing about this fantasy, I feel better already.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Driving Miss Gimme

My last post was about Myrtle the Turtle and how somehow she started the downfall of my Wednesday evening. Now I will continue with how low my evening sunk, courtesy of Princess J.

J called me at home after play auditions. I went to get her. Immediately I got chastised because I didn't "see her" in the parking lot. Let's see, tons of people with kids, cars going in different directions, and I didn't see her. I am SUCH an idiot.

As we left, SJ started yelling, a happy yell.

Princess J yells, "Shut up!"

Me: "You shut up. He's just being happy."

J: "Well it's annoying."

Me: "We've driven here four times today. Maybe he's bored."
"By the way, if you're doing a play, we can't do voice lessons also."

J: "Why not?" (using her haughtiest voice)

Me: "Because A has taekwondo twice a week and you will be having play rehearsals. I can't fit everything into my schedule. Your friend K only does voice lessons, not theatre also."

J: "She does like three things!"

Me: "Well I'm not going to spend all my time driving you around."

J is annoyed as driving her around and kissing her ass is my sole purpose for living, at least it should be.

A started talking in the back seat, and I wasn't listening, due to the fact I was trying to pay attention to the road. (She talks incessantly. You have to filter it.) J started yelling at her.

J: (screaming) That's really rude, A!"

Me: What!

J: "She's pulling her eyes out at the edge saying she's a Chinese girl."

Me: "A, that's not a nice thing to do. Don't do that." (A had no idea she was being innappropriate and she was copying a friend from school. She has been enlightened.)

J: "Yeah, A that's mean."

Me: "J, it's my job to discipline, not yours."

J: "Well you weren't doing it."

Me: "I was watching the road. I didn't know she was doing it. Add Monday to your grounding." (She was already grounded until Friday.)

A: "Mom"

Me: "What?"

A: (in a serious tone) "I love my family."

Me: "We love you too, sweetie."

J: "That timing is off."

A: "What, J?"

Me: "Nothing A, she had nothing important to say, as usual."

J: (not hearing me say "as usual") That's right, nothing important, just like always."

Me: "Like I said, as usual."

J: (trying to play the guilt card) "You never listen to anything I have to say anyway."

Me: "Shut up."

J: "Does the truth hurt?"

Me: "Extend your grounding until Wednesday."

J: "It should be Tuesday."

Me: "I'm tired of your mouth. Make it till Wednesday."

J: "What the hell?"

Me: "I already told you today that if you said that to me again, you were grounded for a week. Consider yourself grounded indefinitely."

J: "You never had a problem with me saying it before." (I'm not sure WHY she thought this.)

Me: "Yes I do have a problem with it. You're grounded indefinitely."

J: (who never knows when to shut the hell up.) "Fine then."

Yes indeedy, fine then. The tone for my evening was set.

J treats her siblings like crap. She yells at them, slams her bedroom door in their face and ignores them when they're talking to her.

Very rarely, she does something nice, and I say nicely, "How good it is to see you doing something together."

Apparently the positive reinforcement doesn't get through, because she is more often nasty.

So the whole evening I was irritated with her and the other two. I am tired of trying to give my best to my family and hearing them bitch. They bitch more than they say "thank you", trust me.

Everyone in this family wants something from me, and none of them are satisfied. I built a head of steam last night and I was throwing myself a pity party. Good thing the internet was out or I would have treated all of you too it.

I started fantasizing about what it would be like to have a whole week with no family. Just one week. I haven't even had a day to myself in six years. And I mean TO MYSELF with nobody else around. I want to start a chore without being interrupted so many times that I forget what the heck I was doing in the first place.

So my next post will be what I would do with a week to myself. A girl has got to have her fantasies.

Myrtle the Turtle

Myrtle the Turtle started the downfall of my Wednesday evening. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

Last night, after A's taekwondo, I had to drive J to a high school audition for "Anne Frank." I could wait at the school for twenty minutes chasing SJ around or I could drive home only to turn right back around. I chose driving home. It was the lesser of two evils, I thought.

To get on the highway going home, a one lane road splits into two and you need to go into the right lane. The right lane opened - I got in - started foward - then THERE SHE WAS. She was dithering as to which lane to get in. Her hair was short and permed and probably dyed unnaturally dark. She was yakking at her gray-haired friend next to her and it was obvious that she didn't know how the heck to drive. She finally picked the right lane after taking up the middle for a few seconds while trying to make up her mind. Not a good sign, I figured.

Then she did it, the merge I hate and complain about. She did the 35MPH merge into the 65MPH traffic, blathering to her friend the whole time. She merged fine as there was a hole in the traffic.

However, I couldn't get my speed up and the car in the right lane seemed intent on running me off the road. I sped up and they sped up to show they weren't letting me in. I slowed down to let them by me and they just kept coming at a rate of speed where I had to literally get on the shoulder to let them by. Then the person behind them tried to keep me from getting on. It was KILL THE LADY IN THE MIIVAN night.

I know that when I merge, the people on the highway have the right of way. I will squeeze in whatever pitiful hole they choose to give me. But at least GIVE ME A HOLE!

I stayed in the right lane. My exit was only a mile away and I didn't want to be anywhere near Myrtle again. Unfortunately everyone in the right lane that was in front of me soon moved. Why? I'll tell you why! It was because Myrtle was going 55MPH, still blathering to her friend, with her right signal on!

I prayed that she would not take my exit. God wasn't answering. He probably figured saving my life during the merge was enough for one night.

She took my exit and then stayed in the middle of the lane AGAIN! Was she going right? Was she going left? Did she even know?

I laid on my horn. Steam was coming out my ears. I was so mad my chest hurt. She picked right, but I could tell she didn't even hear my horn. She was still BLATHERING.

It was the first time I have ever had the urge to follow somebody and take away their keys!

She probably has a perfect driving record. This is because everyone behind her on the road is crashing while she blathers OBLIVIOUSLY. (Did I use the word blather enough?)

I think I filled the air around me with negative energy, because the rest of my evening went quite badly. That will be my next story.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

It's Raining Inside

Did you know that if one toddler points the shower hose toward the ceiling, he can cover the mirror, counter, floor and ceiling with water? It's truly amazing.
I have noticed lately that I resemble several Hollywood figures. I have Andy Rooney's eyebrows. Robert De Niro and I have the same huge wrinkle between our eyebrows. Liz Taylor and I share a jawline. My face is covered in Clint Eastwood Skin. Sunset Boulevard, here I come.
Honestly, who is this person in the mirror? It can't possibly be me.

Quitchyer Griping, Mad Rabbit

My posts have been few and far between lately, as I have been canning. Canning is extremely time consuming. You have to wash the fruit, cook the fruit, sterilize the jars, heat them, fill them, wipe them down, put on caps and rings and then process. Factor my "slow gene" into this, and double the time it would normally take.

Let me tell you about my slow gene. My mother has a "super fast" gene. She can slice, dice and chop at the speed of light. She can get a three course meal on the table in half an hour. She passed the fast gene to my sister, J. J can be very speedy, especially when prowling the shopping mall. Since my mother passed on some of her fast gene to J, she decided to keep the rest for herself. I got the slow gene. I have been accused more than once in my life of being stuck in second gear. "You do such lovely work, but you should have been done two hours ago." Those are the kind of comments I have heard from many employers.

I did thirteen half-pints of strawberry preserves this morning. They are still processing. I cut down on the sugar perhaps too much, as they are very tart. They sure are pretty though. (Every time I say half-pint, I think of "Little House on the Prairie.")
We have run out of freezer bags, storage bags, lunch-style zipper bags and saran-wrap all at the same time. This is unusual.

This morning, while packing lunches, I noticed we were down to the dreaded "snack bags". Anybody that has purchased these damn bags knows of what I am speaking. You look at the box. They look like normal zipper baggies. Perhaps you're in a hurry at the store. You get them home and open them and they are HALF baggies. What in heck are you supposed to fit in them? Who eats a "snack" that damn small? I had to very carefully squeeze the kids' fruit in them this morning, grumbling the whole time.

The brainiac who invented these should have his (and it had to be a man) bed short-sheeted. If I have to use half a baggy, he should have to use half a bed, the moron!
J. forgot her homework today. So after dropping off A, I had to go back to J's school to do homework delivery. I went two hours awake with no coffee. This is not a good thing.

J. used to forget her lunch daily when she went to middle school. I finally had to quit taking it there. After skipping lunch twice, her memory improved.
Boots needs a bath so he couldn't ride with us this morning. When I got home, he was pouting. He made sure to come around the corner of the living room and pout where I could see him.

Sometimes he reminds me of my husband. Hee hee.
Okay, that was a cheap shot. My husband hides in the garage when he pouts. I'm sure he'll read this, so I'd better add, for the record, I'm not perfect either!
There hasn't been a chance to shower yet so I guess I will go fight SJ for the shower head. Happy Hump Day!

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Disaster Day

Yesterday was a bit of a disaster, partly because I hadn't canned in so long.

My friend S called me around 9:45 before she left her house. I got worried around eleven. I was pretty sure the kids had just slowed her down, but I needed to get started. So I hurried and started the strawberry preserves.

She arrived around 11:15 and we started putting the preserves in the bottles. They seemed awful runny, but I thought they would thicken up with processing. Wrong! I went back later and looked at the recipe. I had added six and a half cups water. The recipe called for 1/4 cup. I had been looking at the sugar meausurement. On the bright side, I have some lovely jars of strawberry syrup in my pantry.

We started on the apples. My husband had just showed me the day before how to work the apple corer-peeler? Do you think it worked? NO, it didn't. We peeled them by hand.

The apple preserves came out nice and thick, but the taste of them gave me a toothache. They were so sweet! We followed the recipe exactly so this one wasn't my fault.

SJ came in the kitchen to observe. I had a pan on the front burner out of necessity, as I always use just the back burners. I told him "hot" several times. He had to test it though. He shoved his finger in the burner. Guess who wasn't a happy camper for about three hours afterward! Poor guy. I put on aloe vera right away so it wouldn't blister. He was fine by five o'clock.

I was too busy that day to do much with my hair. We went to pick up the free fish. The girl that gave it to us worked at a place called "Revamps". To me, it sounded like an auto supply place. No, it was a hair salon. I had to walk in to get that fish looking like Ronald McDonald after a week long crack bender. Sigh.

When I got home, my husband was mad at me. I didn't know why. He reminded me of a conversation we had where we agreed J couldn't have a fish. I swear I could not remember the conversation at all. I believe we had it. I just can't REMEMBER it. Does anybody else do this? Am I going around the bend?

S and I are going to can again today. Today I will read the instructions carefully AND add about two cups less sugar. Let's hope we can get it right.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Perfect Day

I believe today might have been close to a perfect day.

SJ and I went to the grocery store and he was good! When we went to the bakery to get his free cookie, he said, "peese" for please. This was after I told the man behind the counter he was pretty nonverbal. LOL

I purchased my half-pint jars for canning. They have all been run through the dishwasher and are ready for tomorrow. My friend S and I are going to make apple preserves and strawberry preserves. (This is my good friend S, not my insane friend S.)

We had reserved a Boston Terrier puppy months ago. The mama dog looked like she might not make it through the pregnancy. Not only did she make it, but a little girl is being saved for us. This is the last litter from this particular dog. I hope that the puppy is a lot like her mother.

J has been begging for a fish. Someone online offered a free goldfish in a five gallon tank. I am picking it up tomorrow.

We barbecued and everything came out perfect! The homemade ice cream was delicious. I may have to have more.

I hope everyone has a great Monday!

Friday, August 19, 2005

Uneventful Happenings

This week has been very uneventful. When you live with A, uneventful is a good thing.
Today our neighbors had some huge storage containers delivered. Hubby says they're the kind that you fill up and then they get picked up and stored for you. That cost some $$$ I'm sure. But considering what they paid for their house...(Lord, I'm nosy.)
The all-knowing E heard the truck show up. It was making the beep beep beep noise that big trucks make when they back up. Down his driveway he hobbled, salivating like Pavlov's dog.
There are at least three sounds E likes to hear. They are:
2.construction noises
I wish I had a large tape recorder and a big amplifier. I could put it on my porch, play the sound of sirens, and wait for him to come out of his house. Then I could turn it off. Heh heh heh
He must have a pretty dull life. Mine seems wild in comparision.
The new neighbors, I found out this week, are very very Christian. They also home school. They are very calm with their kids. I sound like an exploding scream machine. I don't think we will become bosom buddies. Oh well.
A and I went to the grocery store Wednesday after tae kwon do. She only told me that she didn't like me once - not too shabby. This was, of course, because I wouldn't buy her a toy. Never mind that she had already boosted the grocery bill by at least ten bucks with all the kid food she put in the cart.
We came around the corner and a lady was standing there with her little boy. She was on one side of the aisle - he was on the other. They were blocking the way. She saw me there, but didn't move or have him move either. We stood there for what felt like an eternity. He moved for a second, accidentally getting out from in front of me. I knew time was of the essence before he blocked my way again. Only A was in my way. I grabbed the handle of my cart and twisted it making a "vroom vroom vroom" noise. Then I made a sound like I was peeling out and started after A. She laughed and ran away. I chased her. The lady gave me a look like she thought I was insane - like her opinion mattered. I gave my loudest and most maniacal laugh as I sped away.
A and SJ got fruit yogurt parfaits today. They both dislike the granola and a little bit fell in his yogurt. I fished it out and ate it. He smacked me gently on the face to let me know that I'd better QUIT eating HIS yogurt.
There are several pregnant women that I see when I pick A up from school. Due to financial matters and our sanity, we are finished. It doesn't stop me from having a little sentimental pang though. Is there anything more beautiful than a pregnant woman? The ability to grow life is truly a miracle. I'd rather see a pregnant woman than a boring supermodel any day.
Have a great weekend.

Sharks Ahoy

My six-year old "A" likes to google images. She looks for pictures of lizards, dragons, dinosaurs, unicorns etc. Today, she did google images for shark. Happy viewing.

My Local Post Office

I consider the postal service somewhat of a miracle. I can address a package, send it off and 99.9% of the time it gets there. Considering how many pieces of mail they handle, this is truly amazing.

My local post office, however, amazes me with their idiocy. We have lived here six years. We have received neighbor's mail, mail that belongs to people on the cross street, and mail that was addressed to Alaska! (When we put it in our box with the words "sent to wrong address" written on it, they refused to take it back.)

My first inkling of the service that we would receive came shortly after we moved in. I hadn't notified the DMV that we moved and also hadn't realized that it was time for my license to expire. Yes, I know you are supposed to notify the DMV the SECOND that you move. So shoot me.

I went to the local DMV and reapplied for my license. It was denied because my social security number didn't match. (I hadn't changed it over when I got married last. So shoot me again.)

On a sidebar, changing your name sucks! You have to sign it differently. Your hand is automatically signing your old name. Then your brain has to tell your hand, "Wait, that's not it anymore!" You have to change your social, change your driver's license, tell everybody your new name, etc. It's kind of traumatic.

So I went to the social security office, showed them the marriage certificate, got the social info fixed, reapplied and gave the DMV my new address.

We live at an address that kind of sounds like 500 Black Tree Drive. At least I thought it was Drive. That is the address I gave the DMV.

Now, where I live there are no other Black Tree Drives, Roads, Lanes, Circles, etc. We live on the ONLY street with this name.

I waited and waited and waited some more. Finally I called the DMV. My postal carrier sent the license back because, apperently, we live on Black Tree Road, not Drive.

So I had my address changed to Black Tree Road, and the license showed up. Fortunately for me, no nice police officers had reason to pull me over during this whole time frame.

About a year ago I was in the main post office to pick up some mail I had put a stop delivery on while we were on vacation. I told the helpful clerk that I lived on Black Tree Road. To this, she replied, actually it's Black Tree Drive. To my credit, I held my tongue.

Efficiency at its finest always makes my day.

For Anyone Who Thinks Their Husband is Bad

Go here.
This lady REALLY hates her husband. I'd suggest that she leave him, but then I could't laugh at her stories.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Do I Have To Think Up A Title?

Today has been a beautiful day - not as hellishly hot as usual - with a nice breeze. I put the dog in the backyard so he could enjoy the day. He stared at me reproachfully through the glass door with his buggy little eyes. I told him to go do doggy things, chase squirrels, pee on bushes, those types of things. He laid down and did nothing. My kids are also like that when I try to get them to play outside. Mutant kids. Mutant dog.
There was a Mercedes SUV on the highway today with a license plate that read "ALL NATL". (all natural?) If I had that kind of money, I would be so nipped, tucked and filled with plastic, that nothing about me would be natural.
My crazy friend S called today. She told me that her therapist told her she didn't need to see him anymore, that she was fine. She's been seeing him a month. After two to three months, I quit going to my therapist against her wishes. Does this mean S is more sane than me or that her therapist got tired of her blathering? I hope it was the latter.
Speaking of S, she was complaining about one of her (now ex) friends visiting her. She said he brought his kids over and then kept leaving them in the apartment with her while he went out to his car and snorted drugs. I realized again how little she and I had in common. I was outraged because he was driving around high with his kids in the car. She was outraged because she was afraid her neighbors would see him doing drugs and think badly of her. I wish I could say, "Trust me S. Your neighbors already know you're a freak."
I have decided on SJ's Halloween costume. I picked it because he is a perpetual motion machine who refuses to go to bed before ten at night. I am buying him a pink sweatsuit and making him some ears and a tail. He is going to be the Energizer Bunny.
J had her school photos done this week. I enjoy having school photos. I don't enjoy the outrageous price of school photos. Why can't they sell them by the sheet like the photo studios do? I wanted an 8x10 and some wallets. That's it. The least expensive package with an 8x10 in it was thirty-nine dollars! Gas prices are crazy. Groceries are ridiculous and I'm getting ripped off on school photos. Ugh.
I read a quote by Ellen Degeneres. Usually I don't find her funny, but this one surprised me.

"We're lazy. We used to have breath mints. Now we have breath strips. They just dissolve on our tongue for us. Can we not suck anymore?"
Have a great Friday.

For All Aspiring Authors

I've been meaning to post this. This is for anyone who wants to write a book, but then has no idea on how they would get it viewed.

The staff at Kirkus Reviews magazine is holding a contest to discover the best unpublished first novel or story collection.

The contest is open to all unpublished authors who have written manuscripts of 150 pages or more. A submission fee of $150.00 must accompany the manuscript.I know $150.00 is a lot of money, but it seems small change to get a guarantee of having your manuscript read.

For more details, go to www.kirkusawards.com.

For Working Girl 55

My dear husband made a wanted poster for you. Enjoy. Double click on the picture to read the details.

Took A Walk

It was cool this morning so I took a walk around the block with SJ, something we haven't done in ages. He didn't try to escape his stroller, a first for him.

Fall weather will probably be here in a few months. The cool air made me start thinking about the fall weather in Maine. Fall is one of the times of year that makes me miss Maine. The leaves on the trees turn such pretty colors. The pumpkins are ripe out in the field. It's beautiful.

There aren't really seasons out here. It's either too hot or too wet. There are maybe two months of weather that are enjoyable, if we get lucky.

When we first moved out here, it took forever to get used to not having a white Christmas. When we looked outside, it seemed like just any other day.

Of course, I have been a California resident for a long time. My husband was born and raised here, and all three kids have lived here their whole lives. My husband finds California incredibly beautiful - even the desert parts.

I think that most people believe that where they grew up is the prettiest place in the world. I'm sure people that relocate from different countries may have a better quality of life here, but in their hearts they long for the familiar sights of home.

J loves Maine and I wouldn't be surprised if she moved back there some day. Her favorite cousin lives back there, and they are thick as thieves.

I would miss her if she moved, but it is my job to raise her and then let her go. Fortunately, I have a few years left before my oldest leaves the nest. They are flying by though.

For those of you reading this who live back East, enjoy the sights for me, would you?

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Penny Save-her

Once a week we get this little circular in the mail called the Penny Saver. Usually it is chock full of typos. This week, the typos weren't as frequent. Perhaps somehow they sensed that I would be blogging about them. Still, I found a few to share with you. Enjoy.

This first ad didn't have a typo, but I enjoyed one of their phrases.

Gospel Bluegrass Concert
Featured on Saturday, August 20, 2005, at First Baptist Church of Fair Oaks. Adults $16.00 - Seniors $15.00 - CBA Members $9.00 - Teens and Kids are Free, at Christian Book Center.

(I have three of them already. I'm not going to get more even if they are free.)

Dog, Junior:
I'm a 6 1/2 month-old Shepherd/Collie mix boy. Neutered, up to date on al shots.

(What are al shots? Does the guy from "Happy Days" or the guy from "Quantum Leap" administer them?)
2-Male Cats
To Good Home, Both Neutered and Loving. There both 1 year old.

(This person probably used spell check. Unfortunately it won't replace knowing which (there, their, they're) to use.)
LAMPCHOP. 3 Sherry lewis videos. 3 High quilaity puppets.

(Okay, spell check can be useful sometimes.)
Desktop & Labtop
Windows -XP, Dvd/Cd, Burner, 17" Monitor

(I have a lap, but I do not have a lab. Guess this computer is not for me.)
This next ad had a listing of different kinds of furniture for sale. I am listing my favorite item.

Microfiber Sofa and Love - Sacrifice $699.

(See you can buy love. It costs $699.)
There were a few people that thought in order to make a word plural you added an "s" and an apostrophe

Sofa & Loveseat. Beige background with small red rose's.
Dining Room Set. Table and 4 Chair and two extra leaf's.

(Pass the beer nut's, please.)
The next ad had no typo. It was for a drywall company. If I needed drywall work done, I'd call them. Their company name was...


(Yeah, baby mix that mud!)
Okay, done for the night! I'm probably giving ewe awl the impression that eye have way two much thyme on my hands.

For the Grandmas and Techie

I wanted to post a picture for you guys of J on the first day of her sophomore year. I am also posting a picture of A, because if you're taking anyone else's picture, you'd best take hers also.

J's year has started with a bang. Lot's of homework!

J's Spanish teacher has a strong German accent, so that's how she speaks Spanish. (with a Geman accent) Even though it is a first year Spanish class, she teaches it completely in Spanish. Okay. Hopefully, J will understand her eventually.

Boots went with us this morning to take both girls to school. He passed gas four different times. NO MORE chicken nuggets for Boots!

A seems to be settling in to 1st grade finally.

SJ had a bad morning, but he recovered. Now he is napping. Yay!

Enjoy the pics.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

One Jerk Every 2.5 Miles

I had to go to Walmart today again. It wasn't so much to buy something as it was to repair a mistake they had made last Thursday. I didn't get one of my bags which had about twenty-five dollars worth of stuff in it. I showed them the receipt and they very nicely replaced my merchandise. Now we have batteries for SJ to run down again. I sure wish I owned stock in Duracell.

The drive home is about ten miles. First came the merge onto the highway. The girl in front of me merged on at about 45MPH. Was she old? No - just on her CELL PHONE.

Next, somebody came up behind me to tailgate. I obligingly moved over and he passed me by. Shortly after, he got pulled over by the Highway Patrol. Every now and then life is just, and I'm petty enough to enjoy it.

After this, an Acura began merging on the highway. I slowed down to let him in, but he was going super slow so I sped up so as not to impede traffic. He punched it and cut me off. Thank you very much ass wipe.

Last but not least, someone in a van pulled into the ditch with their hazard lights flashing, BUT THEY KEPT DRIVING, off of the right hand side of the road. Was I supposed to dare to pass them or were they going to pull out and cut me off as I began to pass them? You guessed it. They decided to pull out and cut me off as I began to pass them. Ten miles of road - 4 clueless jerks. That's one jerk every 2.5 miles. If I were rich, I would so have a chaueffer.
On the way to J's school, I got to see the "truth trucks." These are trucks with big billboards proclaiming that homosexuality is a sin. They are covered with homosexuality "statistics."

Usually the trucks are old with scary-haired, long-bearded freaks in them. Today it was a nice truck with two young clean-shaven men beside it. They can try to make the message look prettier but it still isn't palatable.

These people have said in the newspaper that they are trying to "educate" people. They are doing God's work! Do you feel educated when you see a sign? I know I do. Until now, I have been driving around blindly. I just needed them to SHOW ME THE LIGHT!

Why can't those assclowns do something that really matters like driving meals to elderly people or solving world hunger?
I got a credit card offer in the mail today with the little fake credit card in it. It had a few numbers on it and a part that said "Your Name Here". Can I change my name to "Your Name Here?" Would anybody believe me when I told them that was my name? I know some guy legally changed his name to "they". So really, Your Name Here, isn't that much of a stretch.
For those of you who have kids, I was remembering some of the cute names my kids gave stuff. I would love for you to share some of the terms your kids made up, and that you may still use. Two from A are:
Mountain Doom for Mountain Dew
Sloppy Jones for Sloppy Joes
These both stuck and we still use them. One time she wanted to stick her finger in some cake batter and taste it so she asked, "Can I taste it with my finger?" I loved that expression.
J had a few expressions also.
Panella for vanilla ice cream
Annor for Ignore
I wish I'd written them down, because there were so many more.
SJ doesn't talk much yet. Once he called a stick a dick, but it is not near as funny as when my nephew Z had a walking dick. (walking stick)
Three more days to go and the weekend is here. If I spend the whole week waiting for the weekend, does that mean I'm constantly wishing away five days of my life? Hmmm.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Anonymous Posts Allowed

When I first set up this blog, I didn't know how to fix things so everybody could post. You no longer need to be a blogger member to post a comment. Anybody can post. Comments of all types are welcome. I promise I won't delete you.

Dear Crabby

This morning I was reading the newspaper and thinking, a dangerous pasttime I know.

I was reading Dear Abby and began wondering what it would be like if she had really vicious PMS once a month. Instead of her boring politically correct answers, she could fire up on some of those advice seeking souls.

For an example, I am going to type up one of the questions fron today's paper and give an example of what "Dear Crabby" could say.

Dear Crabby:
What can I do about a family member who corrects my grammar and pronunciation, interrupting what I am saying?
I am well-educated and pronounce things well - most of the time. An example: I was saying, "So, she said she was the liaison to..." and this person will say, "Is that how you say that?"

I will say, "I thought so," and the person will respond, "Well, it's French, you know, so I would think it is pronounced..."and on and on. And, of course the original conversation is lost.

I have tried everything. I have asked her to stop, and she promises but does not. I have tried ignoring the interruption and talking over her, but that is rude, and then she acts hurt.

I have tried stopping the conversation and not continuing afterward, but she doesn't notice. It seems not to have occurred to her that others in the room might actually want to hear what I was going to say.

I think she would stop if she could, and she isn't trying to be mean. Have you any suggestions? Because this certainly is frustrating.

Pamela In Tampa, Florida

Dear Pamela,

You say she isn't trying to be rude or mean, but I beg to digress. You say she would stop if she could. No she wouldn't. She doesn't want to stop. She sounds a bit passive-agressive to me. You must fight fire with fire.

Here's what you do. Buy a micro cassette recorder. Record the sound of sirens on it. Keep it in your pocket.

Next time you are talking and the beeyatch interrupts, turn on the recording of sirens and yell loudly. "Watch out everybody, it's the grammar police!" Laugh hysterically, like you are joking with her. Hey, it's all in fun!

Follow her around at all family functions with the recording in hand. Every time she interrupts somebody, play the sirens again. Continue to laugh, you big kidder, you. You will be doing everyone a favor. The rest of your family will be so grateful they will want their own siren recordings.

If she acts offended, say, "I'm sorry. I know you wanted to quit interrupting, and I thought you would get a kick out of me reminding you this way. Don't you think it's a riot?" Act like you have the hide and sensitivity of a rhino JUST LIKE SHE HAS BEEN DOING.

Maybe if you're really lucky, she'll quit showing up at family functions altogether. Good luck.

See how easy that is. I should be an advice columnist, huh?

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Fart Story

I am writing this blog Sunday night, but it is a blog for Monday morning reading. Monday is my Dad's birthday, and in honor of my Dad I decided to write about farts. Yes, it's father-daughter bonding at its finest.

So if farts offend you, read no further. This is gross stuff.

Last Friday night, in fact, was a most odiferous (is that a word?) night.

Someone who was sleeping was seeping some SBD's into the air. I don't know who, but believe me, I was trying to track the culprit down.

I woke up about midnight, when my husband came to bed, and this godawful stench wacked me in the face. Could it be my sweet little SJ? Surely not. My whole room was enveloped in the aroma.

I went in the hallway to turn down the air conditioner and the whole hallway was swathed in the fog of doom.

It trailed all the way down the hall to the living room.

I went back up the hallway to A's room. It's right across from ours. A's room reeked. Was it A? Was it Boots? I couldn't tell, but my lungs were getting tight from lack of breathable air.

J's door was closed, but I considered her a possibility too, as they can leak underneath the door.

It seemed as if I should be able to see the culprit, because a stench THAT BAD should have been visually emanating in a green fog from their rear end.

If I could have found the guilty one, I would have buried them in the back yard. Nothing could smell that bad and possibly still be alive, could it?

The mystery was never solved. One thing I'm sure of, it wasn't me THIS TIME.

Happy Birthday D

Today is my Dad's birthday. D is the Dad who raised me from the age of 11 on. I won't tell how old he is, because now that wouldn't be very nice would it?

Thank you D for all you've done for me.

In honor of your birthday, I resurrect an old memory. Remember when you put your initials on the life jacket and everybody started calling you Doodoo?

And I was Little Poopoo.

Gosh, no wonder I'm warped. LOL

Happy Birthday! Sorry it's on a Monday!

Questionairre - Did I spell that right?

I'm feeling lazy today, so I stole these questions off my husband's blog. (hubbyofcrazedmomof3.blogspot.com)

Please answer these on your own blogs, if you would like. I would love to see your answers.

1. If you could build a 2nd house anywhere in the world, where would it be?
Just give me a PRIVATE beach in a warm area with warm water. My own beach - ALL MINE.

2. Favorite article of clothing.
As long as my bra is off and I'm in one of my many pairs of pajamas, I'm good to go.

3. Last CD you bought.
Better Than Ezra - Before the Robots.

4. What time you wake up in the morning.
Usually 6:45 even on weekends. (Thank you SJ)

5. What's your favorite kitchen appliance?
My dishwasher hands down.

6. If you could play any instrument, what would it be?
The harp. Surely a guaranteed way to get into heaven, right?

7. Favorite color.
Vibrant blues and purples.

8. Which do you prefer, sports car or SUV?
It depends on if I'm trying to pass somebody or run them off the road.

9. Favorite Children's Book.
"Love You Forever" by Robert Munsch

10. What is your favorite season?
Fall. The darn hot weather finally goes away and Halloween is coming.

11. If you could have any superpower what would it be?
Invisibility - Oh wait - I have that one. What about being able to communicate telepathically - that would save on the cell phone bills.

12. If you have a tatoo, what is it?
Years ago, I had my husband's name tatooed on my hip. When A was little, she saw the writing and asked me, "Why do you have your name on your butt?" I guess I should have told her because sometimes I can't find it with both hands.

13. Can you juggle?
No, but I sure can jiggle!

14. Name one person from your past you wish you could talk to.
I can't pick one. I wish I could one more time tell the people I've known that have died, how important they were.

15. What is your favorite day?
My birthday - Bring on the gifts! (Yeah I'm kidding. I hate my birthday.)

16. What's in the trunk of your car?
Bodies? At least it smells that way. I don't have a trunk. I have a mini van with a hatch. I am too cool.

17. What do you prefer sushi or hamburgers?
Sushi, by a narrow margin.

18. What is your favorite dessert?
Cake. Fried ice cream is good too, but I haven't had it in about eight years.

19. What is your favorite meal?
Maine lobster with butter - nothing else on the plate. Big tall soda with it. MMMMMMMMMM.

Saturday, August 13, 2005

The Holder of The Hose

This doesn't need explaining. This is my little guy hogging up the hose again. I know both grandmas read this blog, and I thought they'd enjoy the pic of this handsome, naked guy. LOL

A New Coffee Pot

My husband and I are trying to stay on a budget and avoid unnecessary purchases. However, after a month of coffee that tasted like burned crap, I had to get a coffee pot.

My old one, which made excellent coffee was called a Black & Decker Smart Brew. I wanted one of those again, but apparently they are no longer being made. Black & Decker now has the no name 12 cup coffemaker. I hope the coffee tastes as good from this one.

I went to Target first to find it and had no luck, so I went to Walmart. (a different Walmart from the one I went to Thursday.) They had a 20.00 Black & Decker Coffee Pot, but that only came in white.

My can opener is black. My utensil holder is black and, darn it, I wanted a black coffee pot. Who will ever notice but me, but sometimes a gal has to get a little crazy, yes?

So I found a 30.00 Black & Decker Coffee Pot. This is one of the ones that you can program the night before to make your coffee in the morning. I will probably never use this feature. I am so not a bells & whistles person.

Take my cell phone for instance. I want my cell phone to make calls - period. I don't need text messaging, internet downloads, games and photo taking abilities.
Okay, the photo taking abilities could be fun, because I see some really funny looking people sometimes and I would love to post them here for other's laughing pleasure. (Someday I'll find my own picture on one of those "laughing at dorky people" blogs.)

Back to the coffee pot. Yes, I paid nine dollars extra because it was black. I am an idiot, but it matches.

I was actually chortling out loud when I found it. A lady walked by and laughed at me. I don't mind being laughed at. I do mind a little when I can tell somebody thinks I'm weird and I can tell they are trying to hurry and get away from me. Weird isn't catching, honest! (It might be hereditary. Sorry kids.)

I'm posting a picture of my pot. The old pot is next to it, looking kind of sad. (It's okay. I promised the old one we'd use it if we went camping.) The coffee grinder stands alertly at attention, waiting to serve me. (If only my children were so obedient.) Isn't the new pot sleek - kind of high tech looking? Does this make me a high-tech redneck?

Oh well, who cares, it's black!

It's All A Matter of Perspective

There is a huge magnifying mirror I keep in my bathroom drawer. I use it to find the many imperfections and try to cover them up. (Note to self: Go to hardware store. Buy spackle.) When I look in this mirror, I get a small bit depressed.

SJ has discovered the mirror. However, he loves it. He can see his face reflected back in a GIANT size. He tries to run off with it, because really what is neater, when you are a child, than looking at yourself magnified 4X actual size?

Sometimes I really miss being a kid.

Remember when your goal was to get bigger? One of the best compliments I can give to A is to tell her how BIG she's getting. "What a big girl you are!"

Now I get on the scales and gnash my teeth. What a big girl I am.

What if instead of getting upset, I bounced up and down in joy chanting, "I'm getting bigger. I'm getting bigger. You'll never be as big as me?"

I'm sure the men in their nice white suits would show up shortly after.

Remember how excited you got the first time you could eat a WHOLE hamburger?

Now we push back from the table and groan, "I can't believe I ate the whole thing."

Funny, isn't it, the milestones we push for as kids only to wish them away as adults?
But, like I said, it's all a matter of perspective.

Friday, August 12, 2005

One More Thing (and I'll really shut up for the day)

Last night, I was holding SJ and dancing. His little cheek was touching mine. He was on my hip and his little arms were wrapped around me.

I kissed his neck, right on that sweet spot where it meets his shoulder. I inhaled his scent.

Is there anything better than that in the whole wide world?

I can't think of a thing.

Walmart and Other Tidbits

Today I will probably mentally meander all over the place. Please bear with me. First of all, A is off to school. She was glad to go this morning which makes me even more convinced that she is no child of mine. (You LIKE school. What kind of sick child are you?) Really, I've never said that to her. I try to encourage her love of school and will never tell her how much I hated the HELL out of it.

On the way there and back, I had to go through the "no-stop" stop sign. This is one of those stop signs where nine times out of ten, somebody takes your turn. If you are coming up on the right and they are coming up on the left, and you begin to slow down to actually um, stop, they hurry through and take your turn. Many times it is intentional. Sometimes they are on their cell phone and truly oblivious to the fact that they just cut everybody off.

Due to the phenomenon that is this stop sign, there are a few different scenarios when you go through it.

One is the "cautious" scenario. (otherwise know as the clusterfu@k) That is when all four of us actually stop. Then everyone is afraid to go, because they think someone else will go, thus hitting them. This is only when four sane law-abiding people show up at the sign, usually a rare occurence.

One is the "who can roll faster through the sign" occurence. Rolling through the sign, incidentally, is called the "California Stop." Somebody is coming on the left. I'm coming on the right. I know if I stop, they will take my turn and I'm feeling irritable today. So I tap the brakes to signal that I "stopped" a little bit and roll through before they can.

Then there is the "some of us stopped, some of us rolled" scenario. That one is pretty much self-explanatory.

There are lots of people in this area that seem to feel entitled, and their driving reflects it.

Now I am going to gripe about Norelco. There is actually a point to this, I will get to later.

Norelco makes electric razors. My husband likes electric razors, so one year I got him the cheapest model, around forty-dollars. After a year, the heads needed replacing, so I went to buy some. The heads and the razor were discontinued.

So I purchased him a new entry level razor. Within a year, he needed heads for it. Guess what? Yep, discontinued again. I assume this is Norelco's way of fleecing the consumer. If you buy their cheapest razor, they ensure that you will never find heads for it, thus replacing it yearly.

So for Christmas, I purchased a seventy-dollar Norelco razor for him and my FIL. These are the ones that dispense lotion. They both absolutely love these razors. I hope the fact that I paid a bit more for this model means Norelco isn't discontinuing it. Or maybe I should have purchased the one-hundred fifty dollar model. Ouch. It's almost time for new heads. We shall see.
On to Walmart. Yesterday I made it out the door at 10:30 thinking that surely SJ wouldn't fall asleep that early.

He did start to fall asleep, in the van, so I put in a kid's music cd, complete with annoying, high-pitched, fingernails on chalkboard voices and he woke up. He enjoys this music. I just try to keep it from getting stuck in my head in an endless loop.

We made it to Walmart. I had to cross in the clearly marked crosswalk to get in the store. Of course, oblivo-bitch driving in her boat, didn't stop. So what if I had a 2-year old on my hip? She had places to go, things to do, and people to kill. (with her car.)

SJ has not had his photos done since last October. He was sleeping in those, another one of his "fall asleep on the way to wherever" incidents. He has changed a lot since then, so I decided, on a whim, to get him done.

There was no line at the studio. A good omen, surely, I thought. I placed him on the table. Or at least I tried to. It was like trying to dislodge a large, sticky booger off my arm. No way, was he sitting on that table, thank you very much.

Someday he will ask me why the girls had so many more professional pictures done than him, and I'm going to slug him!

I sat him in one of those carts with two seats on the front and tried to shop. Every two steps he hopped on the floor. Then I had to wait for him to sit back down. Two more steps - SJ on the floor, and so on and so forth. So I BUCKLED him. Then he started screaming and kicking the cart. Oh yay.

I hurried to get my Dad's birthday present, the main reason I was there. I wanted to get him the lotion dispensing razor, so I could mail it down for his birthday. (Mom if you read this, DO NOT give me the spending too much money lecture!) Guess what was out of stock? Yep, no razor. There was a spot where it should be, complete with price. Has it been discontiued? Shit shit shit!

I continued shopping. I found some dog harnesses. My dog needs one, because he doesn't walk well on a collar. (You can't tug on his collar at all because he has that little short neck, and it will hurt him.) The dog harnesses had no price tag on, in or near them. Okay then. Forget the harness.

I found diapers and went to buy a new coffee pot. (I give up. I can't stand the crappy one anymore) The Black & Decker Smart Brew is no more. I guess it has been DISCONTINUED.

I found a new Black & Decker - only it was FIVE SHELVES ABOVE MY HEAD. The sign says ask for assistance. Sure, uh huh. First I have to hunt down an employee that isn't fleeing away like a dove in hunting season. Then I have to wait and wait and wait... So screw the coffee pot. SJ is still screaming and I haven't even touched half my list.

One thing I hate about Walmart and any other store is people that stand in the MIDDLE of the aisle. They see you coming. They make eye contact. They don't move. So you go slowly past them trying not to hit them while you are really fantasizing about running them down. If you did hit them, then you could say, "Oops excuse me. I didn't mean to hit you, but your ass is even larger than I realized." Ah fantasies.

So I was dodging people, not finding the stuff I needed, listening to SJ scream...I just left. Screw it. Is toilet paper really that important? Here, borrow the Sears magazine.

And where do they find the check out clerks that work at Walmart? I won't even go there!

Oh and many people have said just go to Target. I like Target much better, but the closest Target is in the next county. It's not more than ten minutes farther than Walmart, but our county is always saying to keep our tax dollars local. So I'm not sure what is the lesser of two evils.

In conclusion, I still have a HUGE shopping list. I'm not going today. I just can't. Maybe Saturday, without children, I will go.

Have a great Friday everybody.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Land of The Cheap

The household toiletry list has been growing the last few weeks, so I knew it was time to bite the bullet and go to Walmart. Ah, Walmart, land of the overweight, badly dressed and uneducated. I fit right in.

I tried to go yesterday. I packed SJ in the car and grabbed some checks I needed to deposit in the bank on the way.

I got to the bank. (We'll just call it Hell's Cargo.) There is an outside ATM that I like to use. I can park in front of it and not have to unbuckle anybody, a bonus -yes indeed. It was OUT OF SERVICE. The reason it was out of service was because the armored truck personnel were restocking the cash. What brainiacs! Let's go to the ATM RIGHT AROUND LUNCH HOUR, the time when it is most likely that people WILL WANT TO USE IT, and slowly restock the cash. Jerks!

Foiled in my attempts to do some banking, I headed for Walmart. SJ fell asleep. Taking SJ to Walmart when he is well rested is bad enough. Taking SJ to Walmart when he is tired is similar to entering the seventh circle of hell. So I turned around and merged back on the highway headed toward home. It was one of the nice merges, not a short curvy one, a long one where you can get your speed up. Only I was behind GRANDMA. Apparently, she didn't mind merging at 40mph onto a 65mph highway. I, myself, did not wake up Wednesday morning, leap out of bed, and proclaim, "TODAY IS A GOOD DAY TO DIE!"

Home I drove, with SJ snoozing. This is the same kid that usually won't nap until three, mind you. SJ had a really nice nap, but I never did make it to Walmart on Wednesday.

Today, I finally made it. But that is a different story.

I Know Why Some Species Eat Their Young

A is making me insane-absolutely crazy, batty, around the bend, blithering insane.
How is she doing this? By being herself!

Every order and rule has to be questioned. I am so weary of hearing, "Why? I don't want to. NO! I don't like the way this tastes. I don't like you. Why can't I...?", and every other version of her giving me grief.

She goes to school from 8 to 2 and even the few hours she is home, make smoke come out my ears.

This morning when I took her to school, I walked her to a certain point. She wanted to go the rest of the way alone. This is fine, but the bell was about to ring and she wanted to take a "short" cut. (the long way around) She stood there and ARGUED with me until the bell rang, at which point I clenched my teeth (literally) and growled, "GET TO ClASS!"

I am not proud of my parenting skills when it comes to A. I am always screaming at her. Last night, she found a perfume sample in a magazine and put it on. I told her it smelled too strong and I didn't want any on. What did she do? She came up and RUBBED IT ON MY WRIST! So I screamed, "Goddamn it, get out of here!" Another proud parenting moment was seared into her memory, I'm sure. It's seared into mine.

When she went on vacation for a week with her grandparents, I vowed to remember what a treasure she was and to be more patient. Within ONE DAY of having her back I was screaming again.

I love this child, but our personalities totally clash. She has to question EVERYTHING. Would it be that damn hard to listen once in a while, WOULD IT?

Do doctors give out valium prescriptions anymore? Something please, to take the edge off, before I start banging my head into the wall to get the frustration out.

Where does patience come from, and where can I buy some?


Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Love this Blog

Check out shinytime.blogspot.com. I don't think you will be dissapointed. Good stuff.

Dyson, Here I Come

Last night, while I was vacuuming, my vacuum began spewing smoke. About time!

About three years ago, I purchased a Eureka Airstream. I thought I was getting a good buy. Ha ha.

(My tip for the day is to go to epinions.com before you make any major appliance purchases!)

The vacuum didn't work too badly, but when I went to buy bags, I got an unpleasant surprise. The kind of bags it took weren't in the stores. I had to go to a specialty vacuum store and pay over five dollars for three bags! What a rip-off!

Like most vacuums, it began losing suction fairly quickly. It just couldn't take the amount of work that my family put it through.

Recently, I noticed some holes in the cord. I told my husband it was unsafe and we would have to get rid of it. He fixed the holes with electrical tape. CRAP!

But, as luck would have it, last night it performed its final job.

I told my husband that I wanted to get a Dyson with some of the refinance money. I want the purple Dyson - the one that gets up animal hair. Supposedly, they NEVER lose suction.

My sister said hers passed the test. Apparently her husband has vacuumed up small animals, and yet it still works. For the record, I vacuum much like her husband does. (and the small animals were perhaps an exxageration.)

Maybe I'm pitiful. I used to admire sleek sports cars. I thought they were pretty cool. Now coolness has a new definition for me. It's a purple vacuum cleaner. I can't wait to hear her engine purr.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Busy Day

I've probably mentioned more than once that we are doing a refinance. Tomorrow morning at 9:00, the appraiser is arriving.

I started cleaning the house last week. The bathrooms were scrubbed. I cleaned off the top of the refrigerator. (The family re-covered it within two days.) I cleaned out the entryway, swept and mopped, did some dusting.

But, as usual, time has a way of flying away from me. (Perhaps less blogging, more cleaning should be my motto.) Before my third child, I could get my house clean. When family was coming to visit, I was a demon for a week, but you could bet your fanny it looked great when they showed up.

Now, we are just plain out of room. Our sixteen hundred square feet are bulging at the seams. (much like the clothes I wear) It didn't help that when we moved in my parents brought a truckload of crap up every time they visited.

As soon as we moved in, they began trucking up all the "stuff of mine that they had been storing all those years."

Let's see, there was the gown I wore to 8th grade graduation IN 1983! That was so outdated that it would have been insulting to give to a charity. There was a box of yard sale stuff that hadn't sold on their yard sale, so apparently it became mine. There were clothes I wore eight sizes and fifty pounds ago. I got the joy of rediscovering the ugly jewelery that I had once worn when I had no taste and even less money. But I sure am glad they saved the charcoal drawing I did in ninth grade. Now there was a valuable piece of art!

Every visit, they brought more shit, excuse me "stuff". Soon, our storage shed was full. Every six months, my husband and I go to clean it out and discover more "treasures." Why last time, I found a picture of an ex-boyfriend. I find some valuable booty in that shed, I tell you.

So, where was I? Oh yes, the refinance. I cleaned my house to a point, and then I was out of places to put stuff. That was when I became a six-year old and HID IT IN MY CLOSET! Good thing the refi guy isn't opening my closets. (I hope he isn't.) If he did, he would get buried in a pile of assorted debris.

It used to be easier to get rid of stuff. When my kids outgrew clothes, I gave them to charity. Now we live near a consignment store. If the kids haven't stained something (meaning they only wore it once for photos) then the consignment store might be willing to accept it. Life was much simpler before the consignment store. Now I have to decide if I want to keep last summer's clothes in my closet until they are taking summer clothes again.

Also, our laundry multiplies. I'm not sure where it all comes from, but it may be having sex at night. I don't even have two nice outfits. Where is all the laundry coming from?

Somebody call Clean Sweep, please!
Conclusion - It is now 9:30 in the morning. The appraiser came and left. He didn't look impressed. As soon as I saw the white shirt tucked into the tidy khaki shorts, I knew I was sunk. At least he didn't open the closets!

Monday, August 08, 2005

The Adventures of SJ

SJ has been busy lately learning new skills. There's not much left in the house that he hasn't experimented with. I think he might be getting bored.

The other night he was sitting on our bed. His Dad's guitar was in the case, also, on the bed and he wanted to play it. I told him no, because it was "ni-nuh" time. When I came out of the bathroom from washing my face, he had managed to take it out of the case and was softly strumming. He also puts it back in when he is done.

I am posting a picture of his art work. Most of my walls look like this.

The night before the bath incident, he was running around naked. (yet another foiled attempt on my behalf to give him a bath) He walked in the kitchen, crouched over the dog's water and peed in it. I think this is his revenge on the dog for peeing everywhere in the back yard, swing set and playhouse included. (Yes, I yell when I catch him, but he sneaks.) Of course, SJ will not pee in the toilet. Perhaps I should just set a bowl on the bathroom floor for him.

This morning his Dad was pushing him in his swing and noticed that it kept creaking loudly. Dad applied WD40 (to the swing) then started swinging SJ again. SJ looked around with a puzzled look then started going, "eee eee eee eee," attempting to make his own squeaking sound.

Oh and Allison informed me that I had to post a pic of her also.

Posted my Pic

My picture is finally posted. Hooray! Enjoy.

Diet Disaster

Over the years, and with the addition of each additional child, my body has seen fit to get ever larger and more unsightly.

In March, I decided I could take it no more. I want to wear cute clothes. I want to wear jeans and breathe. I want to get dressed up and feel attractive, not feel like the circus rolled into town and loaned me the tent.

I'm down eight and a half pounds. woo hoo. At this rate, it will only take me another three to four years to not look like the "before" picture.

I haven't joined Weight Watchers, but do follow the points diet. I purchased the books and the calculator on Ebay. The reason I'm not joining Weight Watchers is because it costs money to get weighed and humilated weekly. That can be done at home, thank you very much.

The last time I followed this diet, I lost twenty-five pounds. Apparently, this time around, my metabolism has finally slowed to the pace of my children getting out the door when we are running late.

I do confess to not counting points on the weekends, but I did this last time also. All week long, I go to bed with my stomach grumbling. If I didn't have Saturday and Sunday to look forward to, I might just jump off a cliff. If California has a quake, it's just me hitting the ground.

I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. The doctor took away my Paxil. How am I supposed to regulate my moods if I can't eat chocolate? How the hell do skinny people do it?

And why is it so easy for men to lose weight? They give up potato chips for a week, take a ten pound crap on Saturday, and voila, they're a size smaller. We have to bear the children, clean the house and be the fat ones! WTH?

And why don't fat free hot dogs ever go on sale at the grocery store? Why am I paying five bucks a pound for processed buttholes and eyelids? Why does Diet Pepsi go on sale but Diet Pepsi Twist never does? Does it cost that much more to put in some freaking lemon?

Why doesn't the stuff that's good for you taste as good as the stuff that isn't? Why can't broccoli taste like cake?

Can you tell I'm FRUSTRATED!

I'm tired of weighing and measuring and reading labels. I'm tired of eating lean cuisine while my family has real dinners. I'm tired of smelling red meat and eating mushrooms. And why are mushrooms three to four bucks a pound? Aren't they just a fungus that grows in cowpies?

So here I am, cutting my calorie intake, and yet the number of chins I have continues to multiply. (Sigh.)

I give up. Would someone just pass the cheesecake please.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Wake Up!

J's train came in today at noon. It is about a half hour drive on the highway to get there.

Next to the highway, on a hill, somebody had painted "Wake Up". I wondered what they meant.

Was it written for the bleary-eyed morning commuter or was it written for everyone that was operating on auto pilot? "Hey, you, the one who is about to rear end me. Wake up!"

Wake up could have a religious significance. Perhaps for those who feel that signs are pointing to the Big End it could mean for the rest of us to wake up and see what is coming. "The world is ending. Wake up and repent!"

Wake up could be taken literally, as in "Your teen is sneaking out the bedroom window at night to party with friends. Wake up!" Or it could be taken figuratively, "Your spouse isn't really working late. Wake up!"

Wake up could mean to look around you and realize that your kids are growing older quickly. "Stop trying to clean the house. Play with your kids. You won't have them long. Wake up!"

I bet some of you are reading this on a Monday morning. I bet you're tired too. Go get some coffee and wake up!

Friday, August 05, 2005

I Want to Reccomend a Book

I see lots of book reccomendations on Behind the Stove. These look like serious books.

My books aren't very serious, because I don't have much of an attention span, but I recently enjoyed these.

Kim Harrison has a series about a witch bounty hunter. There are vampires and other supernatural creatures also. It sounds corny, but I really enjoyed all three. The titles are:
Dead Witch Walking, Every Which Way But Dead, and The Good, The Bad, and the Undead.

I also enjoyed Charlaine Harris's vampire novels. Dead in Dixie is a hardback book that contains all three of her first novels. I would go look up the names of all three, but I am too lazy to actually physically walk in the other room and find the book.

I'm not usually quite this lazy, but screaming toddler boy has been following me around all day making my life HELL. Yes, I'm whining. It's just been one of those days.

I will probably not post this weekend, because I am getting the house ready for the appraiser. Oh fun stuff! (We are doing a refinance.)

I know they say you don't need to clean your house, but come on. Like I'm going to leave the crayon marks on the wall.

Have a great weekend everybody.

Gee, My Husband Just Falls Asleep Afterward

I was reading my nightly newspaper in the relative peace of my house when I happened upon this blurb.

A man in Panama City, Florida was just sentenced to death. Why?

He got angry with his wife because she wanted to cuddle after sex when he wanted to watch sports on television. So he beat her to death with a claw hammer - seventy blows to be exact.

Alrighty then...

Why do I read the paper again?

Dr. Phil Test

My MIL sent me this. I thought it was fun. Enjoy.

Dr Phil's Test:Here you go... try this. Below is Dr. Phil's test. Dr. Philscored 55; he did this test on Oprah-she got a 38. Some folks pay a lot ofmoney to find this stuff out.Read on, this is very interesting! Don't be overly sensitive! Thefollowing is pretty accurate and it only takes 2 minutes. Takethis test for yourself and send it to your friends..Don't peek but begin the test as you scrolldown and answer. Answers are for who you are now....not who you were in the past. Have pen or pencil and paper ready. This is a real testgiven by the Human Relations Dept. at many of the major corporationstoday. It helps them get better insight concerning their employees and prospective employees. It's only 10 simple questions, so..... grab a pencil and paper,keeping track of your letter answers to each question. Ready?? BEGIN!

1. When do you feel you’re best?a) in the morningb) during the afternoon and early eveningc) late at night

2. You usually walk...a) fairly fast, with long steps b) fairly fast, with little steps c) less fast head up, looking the world in the face d) less fast, head down e) very slowly

3. When talking to people you...a) stand with your arms folded b) have your hands clasped c) have one or both your hands on your hips d) touch or push the person to whom you are talking e) play with your ear, touch your chin, or smooth your hair

4. When relaxing, you sit with...a) your knees bent with your legs neatly side by side b) your legs crossed c) your legs stretched out or straight d) one leg curled under you

5. When something really amuses you, you react with...a) big appreciated laugh b) a laugh, but not a loud one c) a quiet chuckle d) a sheepish smile

6. When you go to a party or social gathering you...a) make a loud entrance so everyone notices you b) make a quiet entrance, looking around for someone you know c) make the quietest entrance, trying to stay unnoticed

7. You're working very hard, concentrating hard, and you're interrupted.....a) welcome the break b) feel extremely irritated c) vary between these two extremes

8. Which of the following colors do you like most? a) Red or orange b) black c) yellow or light blue d) green e) dark blue or purple f) white g) brown or gray

9. When you are in bed at night, in those last few moments beforegoingto sleep you are...a) stretched out on your back b) stretched out face down on your stomach c) on your side, slightly curled d) with your head on one arm e) with your head under the covers

10. You often dream that you are...a) falling b) fighting or strugglin gc) searching for something or somebody d) flying or floating e) you usually have dreamless sleep f) your dreams are always pleasant

POINTS: 1. (a) 2 (b) 4 (c) 6
2. (a) 6 (b) 4 (c) 7 (d) 2 (e) 1
3. (a) 4 (b) 2 (c) 5 (d) 7 (e) 6
4. (a) 4 (b) 6 (c) 2 (d) 1
5. (a) 6 (b) 4 (c) 3 (d) 5 (e) 2
6. (a) 6 (b) 4 (c) 2
7. (a) 6 (b) 2 (c) 4
8. (a) 6 (b) 7 (c) 5 (d) 4 (e ) 3 (f) 2 (g) 1
9. (a) 7 (b) 6 (c) 4 (d) 2 (e) 1
10. (a) 4 (b) 2 (c) 3 (d) 5 (e) 6 (f) 1

Now add up the total number of points.

OVER 60 POINTS: Others see you as someone they should "handlewith care." You're seen as vain, self-centered, and who is extremelydominant. Others may admire you, wishing they could be more likeyou, but don't always trust you, hesitating to become too deeplyinvolved with you.

51 TO 60 POINTS: Others see you as an exciting, highly volatile,rather impulsive personality; a natural leader, who's quick to makedecisions, though not always the right ones. They see you as bold andadventuresome, someone who will try anything once; someone whotakes chances and enjoys an adventure. They enjoy being in your companybecause of the excitement you radiate.

41 TO 50 POINTS: Others see you as fresh, lively, charming,amusing, practical, and always interesting; someone who's constantly inthe center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let itgo to their head. They also see you as kind, considerate, andunderstanding; someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out

.31 TO 40 POINTS: Others see you as sensible, cautious, carefuland practical. They see you as clever, gifted, or talented, butmodest. Not a person who makes friends too quickly or easily, but someonewhose extremely loyal to friends you do make and who expect the sameloyalty in return. Those who really get to know you realize it takes alot to shake your trust in your friends, but e qually that it takes you along time to get over if that trust is ever broken

.21 TO 30 POINTS: Your friends see you as painstaking and fussy.They see you as very cautious, extremely careful, a slow and steadyplodder. It would really surprise them if you ever did something impulsivelyor on the spur of the moment, expecting you to examine everythingcarefully from every angle and then, usually decide against it. They thinkthis reaction is caused partly by your careful nature.

UNDER 21 POINTS: People think you are shy, nervous, andindecisive, someone who needs looking after, who always wants someone else tomake the decisions and who doesn't want to get involved with anyone oranything! They see you as a worrier who always sees problems thatdon't exist. Some people think you're boring. Only those who know youwell know that you aren't.Now forward this to others, and put your score in subject boxDr. Phil's Test, "I'm a _"

There's a big "O" in AsshOle

My mother has her own blog (grandmaschronicles.blogspot.com). In it, she talks about her grandkids, her past and her odd obsession with potato salad. LOL

She has mentioned my biological father, O the idiot, but not much. She thinks that she might upset me if she caps on him. She's also worried about being disrespectful of the dead. I am personally of the opinion that if someone was a jerk while they were alive, they don't become a saint when they are dead.

I am posting this to show my mother that she can say whatever she wants about him. This isn't nice stuff, so if you believe that we should blindly respect our parents, you may not want to read this.

My mother says she feels bad about saying things about him, because while she is no longer related to him, we always will be. My answer to this is, yeah but you found him. We just got stuck with him. Neener neener neener. Of course, in Mom's defense, he was a different person during the courtship. Apparently, he picked up a bottle on the honeymoon and never stopped for the next thirty some odd years. (Eleven of which we spent with the bastard.)

O was the town drunk, not like Otis in Mayberry, but like Linda Blair in the exorcist. He came complete with spinning head and pea-soup spewing pie hole. He wasn't all bad. Sometimes when the hangover had eased up and he was only on his second beer, he wasn't too horrid.

O was lazy. He didn't work, because it interferred with his drinking. He sat on the couch with a bottle of Maalox in one hand and vodka in the other. He was King of the Castle, Lord of all he surveyed. I think he left a permanent ass print on the couch.

O was bitter, because he had a horrible childhood. He never got over his childhood. In return, he ensured that our childhood was awful also. Not a big thinker, O.

He lurked like a spider in its web waiting for us to screw up, so he could lunge out and open up a can of whoop ass.

The day the kids on the bus told me that they heard on their police scanner when the cops came out, and arrested him for public intoxication, that was the proudest day of my life.

Eventually, my mother gave up on O, and left him. Nobody cried, except maybe O. (But I'm sure a quart of vodka fixed that right up.)

O died in his sixties from a pickled liver. The hell, you say! I'm not sure where he's buried. If it were close to me, I could go dance (badly) on his grave.

What did I learn from O? I learned that just because I had a fucked up childhood, that my kids don't have to. I learned that comfort from a bottle only lasts until you're splayed over the toilet and trying to remember what you did the night before. (Okay, maybe I learned that one on my own.) I learned that not taking personal responsibility for your actions fools nobody but yourself. These were some good life lessons.

Am I angry anymore? Not often. Am I fucked up a bit? Well a little, but it makes for a great warped sense of humor.

Ode to O, you made me what I am today.

There Mom, now write some of the really mean stuff about him!

Thursday, August 04, 2005

The Health Club

Yesterday, SJ and I actually left the house and went to the health club. That is the only way to get exercise, because somebody else watches him.

My very favorite thing at the health club is cycling class. This is because the instructor pushes me much harder than I will ever push my lazy- ass self. Also, I don't have to face the perils of sharing the road with maniac automobile drivers on an actual bicycle.

Cycle class starts at twelve sharp. I started waiting at eleven-fifty for the instructor to show up. He still hadn't showed up at eleven fifty-nine and I was getting nervous. This meant I would have to fume impotently and complain to my husband.

While waiting, I got the chance to do some people watching - always fun. One man reminded me of a banty rooster. If you've ever seen one, you know what I mean. They look like miniature roosters. To make up for their lack of size, they ruffle their feathers a lot and crow twice as often. He was in good shape for a height-impaired gentleman, but one of my thighs was still wider than his chest. He sure strutted a lot though.

Most of the people in the gym at noon are average people like me. Lots of housewives who can't keep out of the fridge show up. ( I count myslelf in their ranks.) I think most of the beautiful people are at work, saving up money for wrinkle creams and Calvin Klein thong underwear.

Finally, the instructor showed up. It was the one I didn't like, because he hadn't recognized me after two months. Maybe I should just get over it.

I went in class. Somebody in there smelled like they had been exercising for about two hours - minus deodorant. It smelled like man sweat, but I think it belonged to the very scary woman sitting in front of me. Think of Big Ethel in the Archie comics, but with muscles. Who am I to judge though? Her cholesterol level is probably half mine. Besides, I knew by the end of class we would all smell that bad.

Warm-up started. I had already been on the elliptical machine for ten minutes waiting for class to start, so I was warmed up. The warm up song preceded the "start working your ass off song." My body was slowly waking up and not liking it, but I was damned if I was going to be the fat lady who couldn't keep up in cycle class.

I was sweating away and the instructor said to add some tension on. Like the idiot that I am, I did. My chest was hurting and I was sweating in areas I didn't know could sweat. It felt like I was pedaling through quicksand. Soon I was going to be the fat lady who dropped dead in cycle class.

After forty-five minutes, class was over. Hurray! I staggered my sweaty butt out of there and headed for home. I was so glad that all I had to do was pick up A and my day was over.

But wait...I forgot about taekwondo. Some days are just like that, I guess.

Don't you hate when you think you're done for the day and then you remember there's more crap that you've got to do?

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

The Pediatrician's Office

I have mentioned before that SJ isn't talking so I made him a doctor's appointment.

The first slot they had open was 2:45 in the afternoon. Oh no. That meant A. would be out of school and going with us.

I hate taking A. to the doctor's office at any time, because she will not shut up and let me talk to the doctor. I hate taking her to my appointments. I hate taking her to her brother's appointments. I even hate taking her to her own appointments.

A. has been talking for as long as I can remember. You can't be alone with your own thoughts. She is like a battering ram on your consciousness. You can be reading, driving or on the computer - it doesn't matter. A. is in the background-"blah, blah, blah."

If she is playing with her toys, she talks in an annoying high-pitched voice that grates on the nerves. I've often wondered (seriously) if she has Tourette's. She's talking and she can't shut up!

We got to the office. I couldn't sit down in the waiting room as SJ kept trying to open every door in sight. (I can't even sit down at the park.)

It wasn't too long before SJ had to be weighed. He decided to shriek and wouldn't step on the scales. So I had to get weighed holding him and then without him. Thanks SJ, you little turd.

Next we were shown to the exam room. It was painted to look like a movie theatre with a big popcorn on the wall.

Here goes A. "Here, pretend that I'm buying popcorn and you have to give it to me. Throw me some popcorn. What does that sign say? Pretend we're watching the movie. What does that other sign say? Blah, blah, blah."

I told her she could not talk when the doctor came. That is like telling her not to breathe.

Why, you may ask, am I taking one to the doctor who doesn't talk - so that he can talk? Because I am a damn idiotic glutton for punishment, that's why!

The doctor and I talked about SJ in between my shushing of A. Then the doctor brought in the specter detector or whatever the machine was called. She had to put it in his ears to check his hearing. Of course he screamed and writhed. I had to hold him in my best WWF hold.

On the second ear, A managed to stumble over the cord and unplug it.

"Oh that was nice," said the pediatrician. Even the pediatrician wanted to choke her.

So we finished the test. His ears are fine. The doctor thinks perhaps he is just stubborn, but we will be getting one more evaluation.

I'm so happy that his ears are fine. Now about my poor ears...blah, blah, blah.

No Rocket Scientists Here

I was reading an article yesterday about our "ever- improving" public school system. The public schools have set aside large amounts of money to make sure that disabled children get an equal education. This is, I feel, as it should be. But...they have correspondingly cut the funding for gifted children. If your child is gifted, they will be bored in class. There is no extra funding to help them reach their potential. Better hope if your child is gifted, you are rich enough to pay for private programs.

Both of my girls are smart. They do well in school but neither one has been labeled as gifted. I was wondering if my son will someday be gifted and thus shortchanged educationally.

Well my husband watched him this morning while I drove A to school. When I got home, husband was flustered. SJ had taken off his diaper after pooping and then proceeded to fingerpaint. Guess my worries are unfounded.

Also, speaking of gifted, did anyone hear about the woman who auctioned her forehead on Ebay for advertising purposes? For ten-thousand dollars, she had GoldenPalace.com tatooed on her forehead.

This sounds like a Chinese restaurant, but I checked and it is a casino.

She said the money will pay for a private school education for her son. I hope she set some aside for counseling...

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

"Cookie" Magazine

I received this ad in the mail for a new children's magazine. Very slick graphics. Looked interesting...until I read further.

This magazine was not actually for children. It was for parents. Unfortunately it was for parents who live on another freaking planet than the one I currently inhabit!

It was from the company that puts out "Vogue" if that gives you a clue.

Part of the ad said, "Find out where to take the best family vacations...for those who can afford it." Yes, I'm not making this up. Suggestions were taking your child to Alaska and other "exotic" locales.

There apparently was an article on buying "quality" children's clothing for parents who refused to put their kids in clothing with "cartoon characters" on it. Well sorry A., I guess I'm throwing out your Sponge Bob shirt. It isn't hoity toity enough.

Another article was on the key interview questions to ask your Nanny. I'm guessing Jude Law didn't write this article. It would bring a whole new meaning to, "Do you want this position?"

I quickly ascertained that this magazine was "not for me." Nowhere was there an article entitled, "How to keep the skanky ho next to you from hogging up all the good stuff at the garage sale."

"Cookie" magazine. Excuse me while I go toss mine.

I've Been Deleted!

So I found this blog called "Boobs, Injuries, and Dr. Pepper."

It has LOTS of cussing, but it still makes me laugh out loud. It's fun to read stuff by angry people. As long as they're not ranting at me, it's pretty funny.

She's also obsessed with her boobs, because they are ginormous. ( I'm also obsessed with my boobs, as in "gee a couple more years and I can tuck 'em in my belt.")

Anyway, I posted one of those "enjoy your blog" comments.

And...she deleted me. I feel so rejected. I was not worthy of posting, I guess.

Speaking of not worthy, have any of you hit that age where you are "invisible?"

Store clerks don't see you. You are too "old" to count.

One time in cycling class, an instructor in training asked me if I was new. I'd only been sitting on the bike behind him for a month or two.

Since I am now invisible, I am going to go rob a bank. Nobody will ever catch me, you'll see.

Aah, the joys of aging.