Happy Halloween

It is bedtime and I am too tired to post much. Here are some Halloween pictures. I hope everybody had a happy Halloween.

Not Much To Say

There's not much to be said about this weekend. It has flown by quite quickly and not much has gotten done.

Husband flew to Utah to get a motorhome we had purchased off Ebay, of all places. It is a 1991 model and we got a great deal, but we already found some things that have to be fixed right now.

We ate our way through our third bag of Halloween candy so I purchased more again. We are lucky to have one trick or treater but I always stock up JUST IN CASE. I am not fooling anybody.

SJ missed his occupational and one speech therapy last week because I don't have a sitter for A. Most people providing childcare don't want a drop-in. They want a full-timer. I have one number to call this week. If she won't take A, then I am out of luck.

J and I were reminiscing last night about when she was six or seven. She wrote a letter to Santa asking for a "slay" bell. I still get a chuckle out of that one. He did leave her a nice big bell but we traded him some milk and cookies for it. The funny thing about eating those Christmas Eve cookies is that I am so sick of sweets by Christmas Eve that I have to gag them down. But Heaven forbid I waste them. GASP!

Babelbabe recommended a book called "What Do You Do All Day." I read the reviews on Amazon and they were great. Unfortunately, the local library doesn't carry this book. Drat!

J had to pick the dog poopie out of the yard today. A went out and helped her nicely without being asked. They were talking to each other sweetly and I had to make sure I wasn't on an episode of the "Twilight Zone."

S.J. is throwing things lately, all sorts of things, for fun. He is determined to dent my Pergo. Are all little boys like Dr. Destructo?

Tomorrow night I am making one of SJ's favorite dishes. It is a corn casserole I usually make on Thanksgiving. I thought I would treat him to it early also. The recipe is below.

Ooh, also, I forgot I purchased some of those new ginormous Ziploc bags. I will be putting the extra sheets in them and putting them in the RV. Thanks for the idea, Mad Rabbit!

Have a less heinous than usual Monday, everybody.

Canned Corn Casserole

1 15 oz. can drained corn
1 15 oz. can creamed corn
1 box Jiffy corn muffin mix
1/2 cup sugar
2 eggs, well beaten
1 stick margarine or butter, melted (I use butter)
1 cup sour cream

Preheat oven to 350. Mix together all ingredients in a bowl. Pour into a well-greased 9x13 pan. Bake for 45-60 minutes our until center is firm.

It's not low calorie, but it is scrumptious.

How Old Are You At Heart?

You Are 32 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

I was 32, definitely a fuddy duddy!

Clueless McDonalds

Last night, due to lack of time, I took the kids through the McDonald's drive-thru. I purchased a chicken nugget Happy Meal for SJ. The latest promotion at McDonalds is for the upcoming "Chicken Little" movie. On the side of the box, which contained chicken nuggets, was a picture of Chicken Little in his little green shirt and glasses smiling away. Does McDonald's see the irony in this? There's nothing like putting a cute little face on the food my children are eating. Talk about feeling guilty. PETA couldn't have done a better job. The only thing missing was a cartoon bubble saying, "EAT ME." I was thinking that if Chicken Little is going to have his face on the chicken nugget box, it should be this one

Kids AND Intimacy - HA!

For most of my married life, there has been a child sleeping in my bed. No, I'm not talking about my husband.

All of my children have slept with me. It started with J fifteen years ago. She got the boot when she was four, kicking and screaming all the way.

I vowed never to have a child in my bed again. Then came A. Once again, a child entered my bed. Why did a child enter my bed? I will explain.

Those of us who have given birth know that pregnancy is one of nature's little ironies. In the last month of pregnancy, when you desperately need to stock up on sleep, you can't. Your belly is too big to find a comfortable sleeping position, the minute you drift off you have to pee, you're constipated and there is a future linebacker practicing his/her kicks in your stomach. Ooh, I forgot to mention the constant sweating and hot flashes.

At the end of nine months, your sleep-deprived self gets the honor of pushing something the size of a bowling bowl out of a hole that is normally the size of a pin. If you're lucky, you get an epidural. If you're not lucky, your gd doctor shows up as the baby is crowning. This is, of course, after all attempts by the nurses to reach him on his cell phone so you can HAVE SOME SORT OF PAIN RELIEF have been unsuccessful. Oh gee, do I sound bitter?

Approximately 24 to 36 hours later you go home with your bundle of joy. Only the joy part is eluding you because you're so freaking tired. You nurse this bundle and get it to sleep. You lay it down. It wakes up crying. You nurse it to sleep AGAIN. You lay it down. It wakes up crying. This cycle continues to repeat until you are so tired you are staggering. Now you are crying! Please, some sleep would be lovely. PLEASE.

So you nurse the baby next to you in bed and you both fall asleep together. And the body heat from you keeps the baby asleep. Oh sweet bliss. And so it begins - the invasion of the marriage bed.

J slept with me. A slept in my bed. A was evicted when SJ came along. SJ is currently in my bed. It's crowded in there.

So this week I have been working on getting SJ into his own bed. I will get him to sleep, usually drifting off myself in the process. I wake up and go in my bed where I get approximately twenty minutes before he wakes up again. Either I get him down again and go to my bed for the next hour (maybe) or I give up and sleep with him. But at least he's out of my bed, right?

Two nights ago, I got him down at 9:30, woke up at 12:30, and went to my own bed. My husband came to join me and we had an actual uninterrupted CONVERSATION. It went kind of like this.

Him: "So what do you think about this whole Clinton-Lewinsky thing?"

Me: "I don't care who he sleeps with."

Him: "I think Linda Tripp was just jealous because the president wasn't slipping it to her."

Me: "I don't know why he wasn't doing Tripp. She certainly fit his criteria in the looks department."

Him: "Gee, since it's been six months and all, would you like to...?"

Voice from across hallway: "Wah!"

Okay maybe the conversation didn't go exactly like that, but it feels like it's been that long since we talked about anything but his job and poopy diapers.

I got SJ asleep again. He was up about an hour later. He reaches out to find me in the night and wakes up when I'm not there. I need a life-size Carolyn doll, but not the blow up kind.

It makes me wonder how second and third children even manage to get conceived.

A Ruckus In The Old Folks Home

When we moved here from San Jose, I was depressed for about three years. I didn't know many people, and it takes a while for me to make friends as so many people are appalled by my weirdness.

Around two years ago I joined a local Mom's group. They do lots of things like trips to local orchards and other activities.

Today the plan was to go to the local assisted living apartments. The kids were going to make trick or treat bags and visit with the seniors. Allison was great, but SJ had other plans. Perhaps dressing him like the Energizer Bunny was tempting fate.

He ran down a hallway. I got him back. He ran up the stairs. I got him back. He ran down another hallway. He almost ran in an elevator, but a senior lady reached down and caught him. I don't think she was supposed to lean down because the orderly scolded her. The orderly glared at me, but I thanked her and she beamed.

Most of the seniors got a kick out of him, but he didn't do any visiting and that's what we were there for. One lady gave us the evil eye. I'm sure in her day a good beating would have slowed him down. Too bad I only beat my kids in private where nobody can see.

Okay, well I smack their bottoms with my hand occasionally. In public, you're damned if you do and damned if you don't. Either way, somebody will take offense at the godawful job you are doing of child rearing.

While we were at the senior apartments a lady was going down the current hallway SJ was in and she said, "Oh I went down the wrong hallway."

I said, "Well there's a lot of hallways here."

She was my future vision of myself seeing as how I can never find my damn car in the parking lot.

We left after twenty minutes, because I was tired of chasing SJ and getting glared at by the evil orderly.

I then proceeded to share him with the teller at the bank and the clerk behind the pharmacy counter. I am nothing if not generous.

New gray hairs keep sprouting from my head. I wonder why.

testing

I stole this from Leah Online. Bearette has seen it, but I thought the rest of you would enjoy it. How German Babies Are Made

Not Much To Say

Some days I have so much to say I can't remember it all. Other days I have nada. This is one of those days. Since I bitch all the time, one could say that I have bitcher's block.
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A is currently off track. She goes to that blasted year-round school. There is only one month in the whole year that she and J are off school at the same time. This makes vacation planning quite challenging.

I took A and SJ to the gym today. On Wednesday there is a ten o' clock class called Silver Cycle. It's a cycle class that's less intense and aimed at seniors. There wasn't one senior there except maybe the instructor, but there were six other people. I've met the instructor of this class twice and AGAIN he asked if I'd done this class before. Yes, I only show up every two months but it's still a little aggravating that he never remembers who the hell I am.

I think if I were a size 6 with big eyes and a monstrous pair of tits he would sure as heck remember me.

After class, he called me young lady, which sounded patronizing. I haven't been young in ten years. I'm thirty-six damn it and crotchety to boot!

There was a lady at the gym with really tight spandex shorts on. They were stretched so far you could see her underwear underneath. I've thought of taking pictures of people in public for my blog - my own "what not to wear" postings.

But then I would have to submit photos of myself.
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Tomorrow the kids go trick-or-treating at the senior apartments. I hope and pray that A doesn't say anything rude. "Gee mister, those are sure some long hairs growing out of your ears."
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We are trying to downsize and get rid of some of our clutter. Last night I had to deal with my biggest addiction next to chocolate - cookbooks.

Yes, I have a cookbook and recipe addiction. I save more recipes than I can possibly ever cook.

I went through the books and had a hard time letting go. There are so many recipes and so little time. I think I'm down to three bookshelves now instead of four.

Of course, I'll be getting more for Christmas.

Perhaps throwing out my old size 14 clothes would be a more realistic goal. Nobody buys me clothes for Christmas. They know better.
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Last night the puppy decided to whine ALL NIGHT LONG. My husband had let her sleep in our bed the night before and she liked it very much thank you.

For now, she sleeps gated in the front bathroom because she isn't housebroken. Around 5:30 I checked on her and she had crapped all over the place. I knew J would be getting up at 6:00 so I snuck back to bed. It's nice to let someone else clean up the poopy sometimes.
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In conclusion, nothing exciting is going on here. But really it's usually only a matter of time before all heck breaks loose so I will enjoy this boredom while I can.

Go Down A Few

My post for today, posted Monday night, is about three down. It's under the quiz about the 20's name. Have a happy Tuesday.

Forget Harold

Forget about Harold And The Purple Crayon. I have my own version called "SJ and the Purple Marker". This wouldn't be possible without "A" leaving her crayons out AGAIN. Did I mention this was freshly painted wall and we're out of paint? Sigh.

I liked Bearette's 1920's name better

Your 1920's Name is:

Robbie Isabella

What's Your 1920's Name?

Visiting Hooterville

This weekend, the family and I went down to visit both sets of parents in Podunk, CA. Both sets of parents live in Podunk. Many people would think this is an advantage as it is one-stop visiting. It isn't. Both sets of grandparents want extended visiting time with the grandchildren and there isn't enough time in the weekend for that to happen. I think that each set of grandparents secretly keeps little score cards in their nightstands where they mark down who got the most time with the kids.

It is much nicer when family comes to our house to visit. Not only do we not have to take our children on a four hour drive, but we get to spend the whole weekend with whichever set of parents comes to visit us. The visiting is of a much better quality.

Podunk, CA is where I spent my teen years. I spent those years fantasizing about leaving Podunk and moving to the "Big City." Well, we don't live in a big city, but we're very happy with our town of choice.

As we drove to Podunk, all the radio stations we enjoy began to dissapear. Soon our choices became Spanish music or country music. Yuck. I found one "soft rock" station. The teens in Podunk must feel like they are starring in their own movie version of "Footloose."

My nephew "N" was having a birthday party Saturday. I didn't know where it was so I followed behind my mother in her Crown Victoria granny car. We were going on back roads where the speed limit is 55, but most people go 65.

My mother drives very SLOOOOOOWLY. Snails were literally passing us up. First she managed to get up to 42 MPH. Then the speedometer went to 45 - 48 - 52 - 54. Hope blossomed in my breast. Was she going to hit the speed limit at least? Then the speedometer went 52 -50 - 48. We were driving a zippity doo dah 48 miles an hour in a 55 zone. Whoopee! People were tailgating and flying around us as soon as they got the chance. When we turned left, you could almost see their mouths forming the words, "Thank God." The people that had to turn left behind us were mouthing, "OH shit!" I know I would have been anyway. Oh wait, I was!

When we got to the birthday party, the theme was Sponge Bob. There was a Sponge Bob bounce house, Sponge Bob bean bag toss, Sponge Bob pinata...The only way it could have been more Sponge Bob would have been if it were being held under the ocean.

My sister went to get the cake during the party, and - gasp - the cake wasn't decorated with Sponge Bob. It was supposed to be, but the store messed up and put on Robots instead. They offered her the cake for half price if she would take it with the Robot theme. She called "N" on her cell phone and he was adamant on Sponge Bob.

There was a Sponge Bob figurine candle right at the bakery counter for four dollars. I would have put the candle on the Robots cake and told my kid that it was Sponge Bob in future land. Then my kid would have been in therapy for the next five years thus totally cancelling out any savings on the cake.

My sister, however, actually gives her kids choices. My choices are more along the lines of, "Are you going to eat your dinner that you hate right now or are you going to eat it later when it's cold?" Like I said, therapy.

We left before the cake was cut so I'm not even sure if they got the flavor right. (He wanted banana.)

I then hauled the kids to my husband's parents house. They just purchased a 2006 kick ass fifth wheel and his Dad wanted to take them camping at the local mud puddle, er lake. He could have taken them to the local landfill with that camper and they would have been thrilled.

Before I joined them, I had a meal with my mother-in-law and J of assorted Thai food entrees. I love Thai food. It's something I never would have tried before I met my husband. He broadened my food horizons. Other parts have broadened also such as my ass, my thighs, my...name it and it has broadened!

I missed all the fun camping stuff like chasing SJ everywhere and keeping him from falling in the fire. I arrived in time to put him to bed. Since I was ready for bed myself, it worked out quite nicely.

We headed home on Sunday by noon as I had laundry up the ying as usual. Also, all that visiting makes me just plain tired. Okay folks, it's your turn to come this way!

Halloween Jokes

Okay, these are stolen from the newspaper. They're hokey, but I enjoyed them.

Why do witches avoid riding their brooms when they're angry?
They're afraid they'll fly off the handle.

What kind of monster is safe to put in the washing machine?
A wash-and-wear wolf.

Why do ghouls and demons hang out together?
Because demons are a ghoul's best friend.
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Also from the newspaper is an article about a local Great Dane. The Guiness Book has declared him the tallest dog in the world.

He is seven feet two inches tall. He plays fetch with a basketball. He eats eight to ten cups of dry dog food and two pounds of wet food PER DAY. I thought feeding a teenager was bad!

Can you even imagine scooping the back yard? ICK!

The Long Drive Home

Today we drove home from visiting both sets of parents. It is a long, boring, four hour drive.

Fortunately, I will share the boredom.

We saw a poor dead doggie in the right lane. I started singing the old childhood song, "I'm looking over my dead dog Rover, that I overlooked before."

My husband said, "No, it goes I'm looking over my dead dog Rover, that I hit with my power mower."

Perhaps there was an East coast and West coast version of this song.

I saw a handmade sign that said, "Jesus is Lord."

One psycho semi driver almost ran us down. But he used his left turn signal so that's okay.

I saw at least fifty billboards for different housing developments. One advertisement was a bunch of huge cardboard people cutouts. There was a lady playing tennis, a man fishing, a man golfing and a couple walking. I assume the man fishing meant that a lake was also supplied in the development. If so, why was he wearing camping clothes? And why do I care?

There were many billboards for various ambulance chasers. This one was my favorite. It read:

Accidentes?
222-2222
Los Abagados

Abagados are lawyers. (Don't speak English? No problem. We'll teach you how to sue anyway. Welcome to America!)

We saw some abandoned houses and factories. Am I the only one who thinks abandoned buildings look forlorn?

I saw a no-tell motel called the "Shady Nook." Talk about truth in advertising.

That was it for our exciting drive home. (<:

Say What?

My son has a kid's CD that we play in the car. I listen with half an ear. There was a word in a song and I thought, "Did it really say that?" I listened more closely and the song said, "my "knapsack" on my back. I thought it had said "nutsack." That sounded extremely painful to me.

There's also a song called "Waltzing Matilda." Probably everyone BUT me has heard that song. I always thought a billabong was something you smoked pot out of. Duh.

I have been singing kid's songs all day. My husband finally turned on some adult music to drown me out. The kid songs are still playing an endless loop in my head.
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We are taking a family trip this weekend. Lots of driving and noise await us. Hooray.

Everyone have a great weekend, and obviously I was unsuccessful in my computer avoiding efforts today.

Boring Blog

Tomorrow, my goal is to NOT turn on the computer. I am behind on so many things. I hope success will be mine, but it might be easier to give up my other drug. (coffee)
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The parent-teacher conference for A went well. She is a little behind on her math. (my unfavorite subject!) Everything else is progressing fine. She is having trouble with some of her friends, because she tries to be bossy. She does have friends, but they are the kind that will let her be in charge. She's definitely not a sheep. This is what makes her so hard to live with, but I'm also very proud that she does things her way. Though it would be nice if she did them my way once in a while.
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I took her to the book fair. She begged for a dragon book. It had no stories. It had four posters inside which I knew she would promptly mistreat. In short, she was judging a book by its cover. It was all substance, no content. I did plan on coming back later to get it for Christmas, just because she wanted it so badly. That, of course, was a secret.

I purchased two other books she liked, but she complained loudly the whole time that all she wanted was the dragon book. She complained all the way to the car. I finally told her that she was an ungrateful child. She needed to focus on what she had not what she didn't have.

She is awful this way. If we take her to the zoo, instead of saying thanks, she complains if we don't buy her every souvenir that she wants. She has so much and yet seems grateful for none of it.

What are we doing wrong? Comments and suggestions are strongly requested.
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Yesterday, I went cardigan shopping. I had seen a lovely shell and cardigan set at the store a few weeks ago. Of course, those were long gone. Here are my list of cardigan requirements.

1. Not heavy material. It adds bulk. I don't need no more stinkin' bulk.

2. Not a gigantic collar. Those make my hair part in the back like the Red Sea.

3. Not a cardigette. Those are the ones that stop short right on top of my belly.

What I do want is a light weight, collarless, covers my fat gut cardigan. Sadly, there were no cardigans that met my requirements.

Fortunately, a Just My Size catalog came in the mail. I ordered a couple that seemed to meet the requirements. Black was out of stock, of course. Hopefully the ones that come do fit. I despise using mail order for clothing, but had no choice.
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The Energizer Bunny Drum is almost done for SJ's costume. I need to make a harness. Not sure how I am going to. It's actually not a real drum. It's styrofoam covered with felt and yarn. I hot glued it and only burned the crap out of myself once. Not too shabby.
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Once when reading upon dog behavior, I discovered that it is really important to dogs to be the first one in the door. If you have an agressive dog, you should always make them wait for you to go in the door first. This asserts your dominance.

Boots and Mandy were in the yard. She was far in front of him. I opened the door and they started running. Clearly, she was going to make it in first. Boots made a herculean leap and flew over her head as she came in the door. He wasn't quite first, but I think he saved his pride. There is some definite competition going on here.

It Was Better When He Ate It

You have all read about Boots, my marvelous poop-eating dog. I was worried that when we brought home Mandy, he would eat her poop also.

Not only is he not eating her poop, he has quit consuming his own poop. He appears to be having a "who can defecate the most" contest. Our back yard is a veritable mine field of dog shit. Goody. I have to clean both pairs of SJ's shoes tonight as they are candy coated.

I have enough chores so I will have to comandeer J to pick up the yard. First I will tell her. She will bitch and moan, then procrastinate. Then I will nag for three hours. Finally I will yell, "GET OUT THERE THIS MINUTE!" Then she will stomp out there, do a half-assed job and make me wish I'd done it my own friggin' self.

Apparently this is Mother Nature's way of preparing me to push her from the nest. That Mother Nature knows what she's doing.
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I won't go into the long, boring tale of the driver who cut me off today. I do have one question. Is it just California drivers that are such jerks? If so, no wonder everybody hates us.
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I cleaned my bathroom today, a momentous occasion indeed. Babelbabe was going to send her Oompah Loompahs to help me, but they got stopped at the airport on account of their orange faces and big pants. Profiling, yeesh!
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A wants to go to her school's book fair tomorrow. I must have heard the words book fair at least thirty times tonight, maybe more.

I also have a parent/teacher conference tomorrow. Lord, give me strength.
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There was more stuff to blog about but I can't remember now because SJ is screaming and I can't hear myself think. Was that a run on sentence? Quick somebody call the grammar police. Just don't call the library policeman. (Only Stephen King fans will get that last one.)

Halloween Is Coming

Halloween is just around the corner. I still need to make an Energizer Bunny drum and I need it by next week. Time to get my a$$ in gear.

A told me today that her friend Nick is going to be a "boundary hunter" for Halloween. Aren't all kids boundary hunters - or at least boundary pushers? I know mine are.

I decided to make Halloween cookies with A tonight. I made the dough. Then I chilled it and chilled it again. It was STILL too sticky to roll.

We tried to cut cookies, but it didn't work. I ended up rolling the dough into balls and smooshing it flat. We didn't even have any frosting or the stuff to make frosting so I couldn't even make orange frosting. Me and my bright ideas.

A seems pretty satisfied anyway. Does anybody have a good STIFF cookie recipe?
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My Favorite Fantasies

1. Being a size 10 again or even a 12

2. Only having to say something once and receiving immediate compliance

3. Going to bed when I want to

4. Sleeping the whole night through

5. A dog that housebreaks within a week

6. Having enough time to do everything I need to

7. Hearing, "Gee Mom, that was some good advice."

8. Never having to shave again.

9. Hair that doesn't look like I should be wearing mammoth skins and carrying a club no matter what I do to it.

10. Folding laundry - walking away - and having it still be folded when I return

11. Making a good first impression or even a second one

12. Getting through the holidays without having several screeching fits complete with spittle and "Bernie Mac" eyes.
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Speaking of the holidays, there is a favorite episode I have of "Family Guy". This is definitely an adult cartoon.

There is a Christmas episode where everything goes wrong and the wife is very calm. Everything that can go wrong will and there is a final straw that breaks the camel's back. She explodes and says, "Do you think that Christmas just happens? Do you think I just pull it out of my Holly Jolly ASS!" I didn't quote it verbatim but that is the gist of it.

Any woman that has ever had to plan Christmas for the whole family immediately comprehends that line.

First there is the bickering that starts IMMEDIATELY after Christmas is over. This is the bickering for the next year over whose family you are spending Christmas with.

Fast forward six months to July when the credit cards are paid off for the year before. It is time to start thinking about shopping and maybe even to do some.

Eventually everything just becomes a jumble. People to bake for at office, people to buy for, that annoying person who buys for you that you didn't buy for, numerous toy requests, numerous courses of Rudolph, wrapping, wrapping, wrapping, sending cards, guilt, guilt, guilt, cooking, crowds, charity, sold out merchandise, store clerks that flee like deer during hunting season...Can we just go back to putting an apple or orange in our kid's stockings for goodness sake? Please.

And Thanksgiving! Who invented this holiday? I guarantee it was a man.

This is Thanksgiving. Make your list. Go shopping. Realize you forgot something. Go shopping again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Slave over hot stove all day while men watch TV.

Put dinner on table.

Family descends like locusts. They strip their plates clean in five minutes. Back to TV.

You go into kitchen to wash GINORMOUS freaking pile of dishes.

Holiday: A day free from work that one may spend at leisure; a day off.

Uh huh, yeah.

What turnip truck did we women fall off that we fell hook, line and sinker for this "holiday"?

Well I Tried

I finally made it to the gym today. It had been two months! I exercised for 45 minutes and was virtuous with my eating - until dinner. Oh well. I can either diet or exercise but both - sheer torture! Actually I'm not so great at either, but, if I had my druthers, it would be exercise. (Indoor on treadmill while watching TV.)
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SJ went in the backyard tonight and filled his hair with huge globs of dirt. This was while I was in the middle of cooking dinner, naturally. I had to use a comb to get the dirt out and the tub was black afterward.

His baby shampoo was in the other bathroom so I used some Suave on him. My sweet little baby smells like a French whore.
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Pumpkin pies are emerging in the store. I have purchased two already. It will be like last year. By the time Thanksgiving comes, we will be sick of pumpkin pie.

Fortunately, there's apple and pecan and chocolate cream and...
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A and J kept picking at each other this morning. It resulted in groundings for both of them. I get maddest at J, because she's old enough to know better. My husband said instead of grounding her, she needs to ride the bus. This is a fate worse than death in her book.
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I hate driving. It's probably no secret to anybody who has read my posts. I prefer being the passenger and watching the scenery. The way people drive nowadays there is no way to watch the scenery. You never know what they will do.

I try to leave a space cushion. Inevitably, somebody will pull into it with no warning. I don't know if that is because there is a cushion or if they would have done it anyway. Best not to find out.

No wonder rich people have somebody drive them around.
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Hubby and I painted the kitchen some more this weekend. One of the walls is a deep brick red. It splatted on my hand a bit and it looks like I have measles.

My ex-husband contracted measles while we were married. He was really sick. I had to force him to take a bath because he stunk so bad. There were even measles on his bald spot.

Good thing he never had a job to call in sick to.

Sunday Blues

The Sunday Blues are beginning to set in. It is six 'o clock and tomorrow is looming closer. Nasty old Monday, you stink.

Today my husband told A to clean her room. I went in to help and she dissapeared after about twenty minutes. That was a bonus of sorts as I could throw stuff away without her screeching. I didn't want her to think it was okay not to clean her room, but punishment doesn't work with Miss Stubborn. A plan needed to be concocted.

SJ came in and helped me vacuum. He is enthusiastic, if not accurate. The plan appeared to me.

I told my husband in a loud voice, when the room was done, that I was going to buy a surprise for SJ, because he helped me clean the room.

A was pissed. Perhaps next time she will help. Whatever toy he ends up with, I will make sure to rub it in as much as possible.
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Forgive me, Old Horse, for this next post.

Today a song started running through my mind. It wasn't a song that I liked either. It was "Linda On My Mind" by Conway Twitty. Ugh!

I hate Conway Twitty and most country music. When I was a child my parents played it and played it and played it...Torture, I say!

Nothing can make me crave oblivion quicker than hearing country music assault my ears except maybe a trip to the grocery store with the kids.

County music should come with a warning sticker. WARNING: Exposing your children to this music causes adult onset insanity.

I know that people that listen to country or rap or whatever feel the same way about Green Day, Sublime, Cake and all that other stuff I listen to. Isn't it great that the radio has so many stations?
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The family needs dinner so this is just a short blog - a blogette!

Priorities, I Don't Need No Stinkin' Priorities!

I have posted a few times about my old school buddy "S." We don't have much in common anymore and her life is a constant drama in her own mind. Every time I talk to her, she is blaming all her problems on somebody else.

She recently made a "suicide attempt." She got in an argument with her mother. Her mother "disowned" her. (About time, I say.) Then she took a bunch of pills, but she called her mother and a family friend to tell them what she did. She conveniently remembers none of it.

I know that there are people who are truly in so much pain that they commit suicide. I am not taking that lightly. Certainly, I understand depression. S is a classic manipulator though. She will do anything to get her own way and I'm pretty sure that this is what she was up to.

About a week ago, S was talking to me and mentioned that her doctor yelled at her because she wasn't testing her blood sugar. (It was at 400.) She told him that the testing sticks were really expensive. I know that insurance doesn't cover the testing sticks and I think that is a crime in itself, but this isn't about the insurance companies. We all know that they're big weenuses.

My problem with the whole thing is that she has had her lips tattooed, at a cost of three-hundred dollars, she buys expensive perfumes, she gets her nails done constantly and her hair dyed and permed. None of these things are a crime, but I think I would buy my testing sticks first and THEN if I had some money left over, do the other things.

At least she'll be a well done up corpse.

She mentioned that she had gone shopping with her mother. She spent forty dollars on books alone. Then she said, "Now I guess I won't be able to afford to get my cat spayed."

Her cat is in heat constantly, dancing around her apartment. But by all means, let's buy some books instead of actually doing something like, say, go to the library.

I want to say to her, "WTF are you thinking?" I don't feel like I am the kind of friend that she needs. (unless she just needs a sounding board.) She is 35 going on 16 and I'm 36 going on 50.

She doesn't have any friends. She considers me one, but she wouldn't if she knew about my blog. Who could blame her?

I wish she would grow up, but remember the old saying, "If wishes were horses, than beggars would ride"?

My husband says it much more eloquently. He asks, "If you wished in one hand and crapped in the other, which one would fill up first?" hee hee

I guess we all have some priorities that are a bit skewed. I know I do. It seems that hers are a bit more skewed than most.

Well, she makes for some good blogging stories. If she only knew...Good thing she hates computers!

Question about Half Naked Thursday

What in heck is half-naked Thursday? I checked google first and didn't get much info. I've seen pics of feet, closets, stuffed animals. Anybody with info, please share. Thanks.

Not Much To Post

SJ had his second occupatonal therapy session this morning. It went better than the first one. I am taking "A" on a playdate today. We leave the house in a few hours
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I never reported on my trip to Costco. I'll just touch on a few things. After all, a trip to a warehouse store is a little less than exciting.

I enjoyed the senior lady with her even more senior mother. Mother was very old and hard of hearing. The senior lady grabbed some almond clusters and yelled to her mother, "Are these the kind you want Mother?"

Only it came out kind of like "muhtha", because she had a strong New York accent. I love New York accents. Can anybody say "up yours" with more panache than somebody with a NY accent? It just sounds right!

There was a lady that was speaking English and then switched to Spanish. Her whole family started laughing at what she said. Was she making fun of all us fat, white people? It kind of felt like it.

When we left, I decided to purchase gas at the Costco pumps before hitting the road. The line was REALLY long. A lady in a Mercedes cut in front of me. I let her, because if you drive a Mercedes it means that you're really, really special. There were two pumps in front of us. The back pump opened up and the lady in the Mercedes got out of her car. Then I saw the front pump was opening up, so I got out and asked her if she could pull forward. She said, "Okay", and did. I said, "Thank you." She said "no problem" in a voice that conveyed the opposite. That's okay. I never would have asked if she hadn't cut me off, but she owed me dammit.
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It's time to attempt to clean this dungeon of a house. It is extremely hopeless and discouraging to boot, but here I go.

Population Explosion

My husband and I have been married almost eleven years. When we first married, we were both working at dead end jobs. Within a year of the marriage, he received a job offer in San Jose.

We could have stayed in the same podunk town forever and never gotten anywhere or we could have moved. The choice was a relatively easy one.

After we had lived in San Jose for about three years, we decided to buy a home. Ha ha. Right.

Our budget was less then $200,000. and townhomes started at $300,000. It was not feasible to fulfill our American dream in a town that we had grown to love.

My husband got a transfer through his company and we moved to where we are now. It doesn't have the energy of San Jose but it was nice to get to the grocery store a mile away in less then twenty minutes.

Our idea of moving here was not original and soon many more Bay Area residents began coming this way. Some wanted merely to afford a house. Some sold their homes in the Bay Area, paid cash for a house, and had dough left over. Lucky bugs!

Well the area has had growing pains. Anywhere there was once an empty spot, something has been built. The traffic has become more congested. People are grumbling about how much their commutes have lengthened.

Many empty areas have been filled with cookie cutter tract homes. They are all painted the same shades of brown and tan. The appeal is obvious. There are sidewalks, families with small children and usually a neighborhood park.

There are also some things I don't like about them such as being so close to your neighbor you can hear him sneeze.

These communities are springing up all over the place, like mushrooms in cowpies. The builders attempt to give their subdivisions fancy names. There are just a few I want to share.

Yesterday's blog mentioned the office buildings that were called Creekside Village. There was definitely not a village in site.

I passed some called Cameron Glen Estates. What is a glen? I looked it up. A glen is another name for a valley. We live in the foothills.

I saw one called Empire Ranches. Ranches? There was not a cow, horse or even a chicken in sight. They're probably not allowed either.

My very favorite, though, was Travois Homes. I was pretty sure I knew what that word meant. I looked it up to be sure.

Travois: A conveyance formerly used by Plains Indians (native Americans for those of you who are politically correct) consisting of a frame slung between poles and pulled by a dog or horse.

Some developer must have said, "Hey this word sounds French. I bet we can get $500,000 a home easy with this fancy sounding word. Sadly, he was right.

I've got a great idea for a subdivision. Name it McMansion Meadow. Well there was a meadow there once, right?

I Did It!

Thank you OldHorse for sending me instructions on linking. I managed to link your blog! I will link the rest this weekend!

Happy Birthday Nephew

My nephew "N" is turning 6 today. Happy Birthday!

Making a Short Story Long

This morning I went to have my eyes checked and purchased some groceries at Costco. That is the short, painless version of my morning. Of course, I am going to torture all of you and give you every excruciating detail of my morning. That's what I do best, after all.

Be prepared for some meandering and digressing from the topic.

I made Princess J. an appointment a MONTH ago for an eye exam. (It takes that long to get an appt. at the eye dr.) Last night at 7:30, she told me she couldn't miss history class today. They were doing something worth 80 points. I told her the date when I made the appointment and the week before. Thank you for the 15 hour notice J!

Rather than cancel on the eye doctor, I decided to take her appointment. I haven't had new glasses for five years. SJ went with me. This was not as disastrous as one might imagine.

When I pulled onto the street the office was on, I noticed a sign that said "Creekside Village." Village, huh? Where's the village? I only saw offices.

I went to the doctor and checked in. The receptionist instructed me to fill out some forms and return them with my co-pay. I stood up and filled out the forms while following SJ around. He's two so he can't sit down, at least I think that's why.

I managed to fill out the forms and was quite proud of myself. I handed them in and the receptionist reminded me about the co-pay. Only she didn't remind me about the co-pay in a friendly voice. It was more of a, "You're trying to rip us off for five dollars, aren't you?" voice. I could imagine her in my own movie version of "Better Off Dead" following me around yelling, "I want my five dollars!"

I apologized and told her that I had gotten a bit flustered. There was no answering smile. Okay, whatever. Guess I found part of the village - the idiot!

By now, I had pulled my secret weapon from my purse - candy. SJ was sticking pretty close to my side.

A lady took me back to examine my eyes. I tried to keep a wiggly SJ on my lap. She told me in rather a cross tone that I needed to hold still. I looked at the chart and read off the letters. I hate doing that. It always feels like I'm failing a test which I guess I am, sort of. Then she dilated my eyes. Yuck!

I went in a different room to wait with SJ while the dilation drops kicked in. Before they did, I read an article on six things your childless friends want you to know.

One of them was that they want to have a conversation with you on the phone that doesn't go like this.

"What were you saying? Oops, hang on. RACHEL, QUIT HITTING YOUR BROTHER!"

"I'm sorry. Sue at the office said what? BILLY, I TOLD YOU NO COOKIES BEFORE DINNER!"

"Let's try a..."WHY ARE YOU PEEING ON THE FLOOR? Sorry, I've got to go."

Speaking of peeing on the floor, another thing your child-free friends want you to know is that they do not want to know about or see your children's bodily functions. Just because you have become immune to grossness doesn't mean they have.

There were four more things to know.

Number three was that they don't necessarily want to hold your baby.

Number four was not to expect them to know your child's needs. This one was along the line of if you're going to visit, tell them the kind of things your child likes to eat, not get annoyed because the food you require isn't in the fridge.

Number five was that they would like alone time with just you so they can have your undivided attention.

Number six was just because you have a child doesn't mean that they want or need to. Or maybe they want to but can't. So please be careful not to make insensitive comments.

I have definitely been guilty of one, two, five and probably six. For all those without children, I apologize if I have been an insensitive bore.

The article also said that some people with children assume their lives are much more important than childless people's lives. At least I'm not guilty of that. One of the things I love about blogging is reading about other people's lives.

In fact, a few good blogs that I haven't mentioned yet are:
www.oldhorsetailsnake.blogspot.com - Life in the oldfolk's home. Always funny and upbeat.
www.potatoesinthemist.blogspot.com - This is about Bearette - a vegetarian, yoga addicted, dog-lover in New York. Also upbeat and lots of yummy recipes.

If I knew HTML, I would put actual links for everybody.

Told you I would digress. My eyes were dilated. The doctor called me, finished the exam and pronounced that I DIDN'T need glasses. I started wearing glasses in fourth grade, but never really wore them much - could always see well enough to get along.

My Mom always said that not wearing your glasses made your eyes worse. This time she was wrong. I love it when that happens.

At least one thing on my body has improved with age.

The trip to Costo will have to wait. I'm out of time.

Happy Hump Day!

I Couldn't Resist

I couldn't resist stealing these. They are from www.leahonline.blogspot.com, a good blog! Notice that Elvis has camel toes. Bet you haven't heard that expression since the 80's. Happy Halloween. LOL

Random Ramblings

The stress level here has gone way down. This is a good thing. Everybody is getting along much better.

"A" and "SJ" went to a birthday party Sunday night for one of her classmates. It was a place called Pump It Up with indoor inflatables for the kids to jump on. There was also a big slide.

For the first part of the party, "SJ" played velcro butt. That is, his butt was velcroed to my lap. After he loosened up, I took him down the slide. It scraped the skin off my elbow. It hurts. If I put a band-aid on it and people ask what happened, I get to say I hurt my elbow going down a slide. I bet that isn't an excuse you hear from most adults!
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"A" is getting really good at taekwando. She has such good form that it is amazing. I had offered her cheerleader lessons but my husband suggested taekwando. He certainly understands her better than I do. She is shining in it. It won't be too long before she can beat me down physically and mentally. LOL
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"J" might be starting voice lessons soon. I put a call in to the same teacher her friend has and am waiting on a call back. "J" has a naturally beautiful voice and I think she will bloom when she learns how to use it even better.
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"SJ" was funny at his occupational therapy. He was not going to leave my lap, more velcro butt! Most of the time he kept saying, "NUH!" That is how he says, "no." He always says, "nuh" or "nah", never "no."

He wouldn't leave me or participate much. When it was snack time, he screamed, "NUH," and slapped his Cheerios. When the Cheerios were put up by the teacher, he began crying. He does this a lot. He doesn't want something, yet he wants it.

I know he was hungry, but he refused to break bread with the "enemy." You've got to admire his principles.
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I purchased a new rug for my husband to put his computer desk and filing cabinets on. It measures 7 feet by 10 feet, so it is good-sized. It's pretty, matches the wall color and I got a good price on it.

Boots already puked on it yesterday and "SJ" had a poopy diaper overflow on it today. It has officially been christened. It probably seems as if I talk about bodily fluids a lot. That is because I clean them up a lot.
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"A" and I went to the grocery store today after her taekwando lesson. She received many admiring glances from other kids. What is it about that uniform?

Yogurt was on sale and I wanted some. Unfortunately, two women shopping together stood there and stood there and stood there.

I wanted to get out a bull horn and shout, "Please step away from the yogurt."

Alas, I had no bull horn, thus I have no yogurt.
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Boots and I were playing with one of his toys tonight. I pulled it out of his mouth. "A" and I were sitting together on the couch. Spittle flew off the toy and bathed both of our faces. Yum. The spittle of my dog, who eats his own poop, showered my face. I'll try not to think about it too much.
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Poor Boots. While I was blogging, the puppy bit him in a most sensitive area. He shrieked quite loudly. I know how he feels. Last night she bit my booby. Of course, I think balls are probably more sensitive than boobies.

Speaking of boobies, did anyone see Dr. Phil Friday? There was a woman on who was extremely offended when she saw other women breastfeeding in public.

I can understand this coming from a man. Men don't mind beer commercial boobies or strip club boobies, but boobies feeding a child! Unnatural, that's what it is.

I know that the talk shows always get the most extreme characters in order to get ratings. She was definitely extreme. I don't know if she had children or not. I missed the first ten minutes, because my mother called.

There are three occasions when my mother calls. They are usually:

1. I'm getting ready to leave or am leaving the house.
2. We have just sat down to dinner.
3. I have just started watching or am just finishing a television show

I think she's psychic - or maybe psychotic - something that begins with "psy". LOL
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Have a great Tuesday.

Bloggin' Boots

Boots here with the latest news. You won't believe it. You will never guess what they did now. Let me tell you!

Wednesday morning of last week started out on a promising note. My human said, "Let's go bye bye Boots." (This is human talk for taking a drive.) I hopped in the van and away we went.

It was fun for a while, but then things got a little noisy. The little one kept screaming and I felt like if I heard another chorus of "Do Your Ears Hang Low" I might have to poop on somebody. What's so special about hanging ears? I think pointy ears are much more attractive AND practical.

We drove and drove and drove and the stupid human got lost. Then I had to hear her for twenty minutes on her cell phone getting driving directions. I would never get lost if I were navigating.

Three long hours later we stopped. Did I even get to leave the van? No. We were somwhere with all sorts of interesting smells. I would have LOVED to add to them. But I just sat and waited.

The human put a box with holes inside with me. I immediately smelled something in there. I kept a good eye on that box just in case. If only I had known what was coming.

The drive back wasn't too bad. I had to pee pretty bad and we never stopped, but the little boy fed me every bite of his Happy Meal.

But - when we got home the human pulled a fuzz ball out of that box - a STINKY fuzzball. Immediately "A" grabbed it and started talking in her high-pitched voice, the one she saves for me! The nerve. It only got worse.

We went to pick up "J" and her friend "K" from school. "J" wanted to show the fuzzball to her friend "K" so we drove home. They both started talking to it in the high-pitched voices.

"Hello!" It's me Boots! "Remember me! I'm the one everybody makes a fuss over, not this - this INGRATE!

Things deteriorated from there on. What a week.

They let the fuzzball on the couch. I'm NEVER allowed on the couch.

Everyone came to visit and made a big to do over it. Everyone that usually says, "Hey Boots," walked right by me. "Aren't I cute anymore?"

The fuzzball got special food. It was soft and mooshy. I could smell it. The humans gave me some also, but they served her FIRST!

Every time SHE got a treat, I made sure I got two. I showed her.

What is SO great about her? She doesn't even pee outside! She's dumb and stinky and she's so fat she looks like a stomach with legs!

I sniffed her butt repeatedly and I tell you - NOTHING special.

The humans brought her a new toy. They got me one too. But I liked HERS better. Mine wasn't half as neat.

The little boy, the one who always shares his lunch with ME, gave his lunch to her. She can't even do tricks for her food. What the heck?

I showed her though once again. I ate the table scraps from dinner and I had some leftover fish. I also had more treats. I ate a lot of special food. So there you stupid puppy!

I am so sick of this puppy, I feel queasy. I feel like puking all over the place. In fact, GAAAAACCCCKKK. Have fun cleaning that up you assholes! I'll make sure that they do laundry all weekend long. Mwahahahahaha.

The Only Perfect Parents Never Had Kids

As all of you know, we just had Pergo installed.

My husband's friend "K" did it for us. He needed a job. We needed some help. He did a great job and it worked out well all around.

"K" has no children. He got to see our children at their very worst and they didn't make a good impression. Nor did I.

While he was installing the Pergo, our lives were turned upside down. My husband and I were stressed. The kids were stressed. Even the dog was stressed.

This resulted in the five of us looking like the scariest family on planet earth.

I screeched a lot. The kids were whiny. "A" was especially horrid, embarrassingly horrid. She wasn't listening. She talked back. She said some really rude things to "K" all in an attempt to show him the good manners we are trying to instill in her.

Apparently, "K" made some comments to my husband about our child's behavior and gave some child raising advice. He gave me a few pointers also. Many of them were good, by the book, pointers. Of course, anyone with children knows that by the book flies out the window when you're tired and stressed and your annoying little anklebiter asks, "Why not?" for the thousandth freaking time!

I told my husband I remembered when I was the perfect parent. This was before kids. (BK) I had a friend many years ago who hadn't potty trained her son yet. He was three and a half or maybe four. I found those huge stinky diapers disgusting and was always saying, "haven't you potty trained him yet?"

Regina, I apologize. You were very diplomatic when you should have just told me to shut the hell up or just decked me.

It is no coincidence that all the mothers I hang around with have at least one child who is similar to "A". They understand what it is like to have a child who pushes constantly and embarrasses you on a daily basis.

I don't socialize much with the mothers of "perfect" children. They just don't understand. They point their noses in the air and sniff when they see my little savages running around and me chasing them yelling, "No, no, not that either, NO!"

Sometimes I think I shouldn't have had children. I am sending three more maladjusted individuals out into this world. Sorry kids.

I sure miss being a perfect parent in the years BK.

Belly Blog

As long as I can remember, I have had a big, fat belly. Even when I lost weight, I still had this ginormous belly poking out.

I have no ass. It's flat. Why can't I have a fat ass and a flat belly. I could live with that!

Last week I was in the store carrying a sleeping SJ. A lady made a comment about how nice it would be to sleep like that and then commented that she could see I have another one on the way. (This is not the first time this has happened to me, by the way.)

I said, "No, I just carry a lot of fat on my belly."

She said, "You're just teasing, right?"

"No," I said.

She was embarrassed and didn't know how to recover. I wasn't mad. I have a FAT belly. But people get truly flustered when they make this mistake.

Should I just lie and pretend that I'm about five months along? It would be less awkward.

Remember the maternity shirts that read, "I'm not fat. I'm pregnant."

I want a shirt that says, "I'm not pregnant. I'm fat." Size XXL, please.

Razors and Other Complaints

Does anybody remember when it was cheaper to buy a razor and replace blades than to buy a disposable razor? Boy are those days long gone.

First the manufacturers came out with two-bladed razors. Then they came out with three-bladed razors. Then the little blades started costing approximately two dollars PER BLADE! Huh?

Why does it cost so much money to shave my damn legs?

Also, all the manufacturers decided to add the "conditioning strip" to the blades. I hate this thing. All it does is put a layer of slime on my skin. Then, instead of shaving, the blade just skates across a layer of slime. Yeesh. I'm paying more and it doesn't work as good as it used to.

Sometimes I wish I'd been born in Europe!

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Next complaint regards cereal boxes. Remember when you could open the plastic pouch on the inside evenly down the seam? This enabled you to pour the cereal nicely into the bowl. The cereal didn't fall in the spots between the box and the plastic pouch, thus becoming stale and inedible.

Lately, I have been unable to open any of these pouches down the seam. I think the cereal industry makes more money this way. If a certain amount of the cereal goes stale, you have to buy a new box sooner. Think of all the people that buy cereal and the profits go way up. It's a conspiracy I tell you.

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This morning I planned on making pancakes for breakfast. We were out of cereal and heaven forbid that "A" eats oatmeal.

As I stirred the batter, black things began floating to the surface. I realized that little wormies had hatched in my flour. Mmmm, protein.

"A" ended up eating Cheezit crackers for breakfast. We were out of milk, eggs, bread and options.

I am a bad Mom.

I will be glad when I have baseboards, a finished kitchen and some more organization. Soon very soon.

Someone Just Roll Me To The Sofa

My husband just made me a polish sausage sandwich. Between that and the ice cream, I don't think I'll be moving anytime soon. If I were an architechtural feature, I'd be a rotunda.

I have a cold right now that is kicking my butt. Usually I just load up on the phenergan with codeine at night. It stops the cough in your tracks and, even if it doesn't, it knocks you out so you don't give a crap. However, this has not been the case the last two nights. No amount of phenergan will quiet this cough. I even made a phenergan/Nyquil cocktail to no avail. I try to rest and my throat tickles INCESSANTLY. I cough the night away. Fun stuff. I have a huge double chin that I despise. Add swollen glands, the fact that I'm croaking and my big white belly, and I am officially a frog!

Congratulations to Babelbabe on Behind the Stove. She gave birth on 9-27 to a sweet little boy. His name is James Angus and he weighed 7lbs. 12ozs. Little boys are so sweet. I guessed that he would be born October 7th. Since there was a 7 in the date, do I get a booby prize?

The Pergo is almost done. We got a call today that our new puppy is ready. Does anyone else see the irony in having to housetrain a dog on my brand new flooring? I will be a neurotic wreck, even worse than usual.

Our computer still isn't hooked up. I am blogging from the laptop. Someday life will be back to normal. Cheers.