Things That Make You Go GRRRRRR

1. The daughter that will never hurry when she is late to school RUNS to class when she is recovering from a cold and was told not to.

2. The good parking spots are always on the opposite side from where you are looking.

3. You find a good spot, pull up to it, and realize it is a spot with a little car in it that pulled all the way forward. (mirage spot)

4. You find another good spot, pull up to it, and there are grocery carts in the front of it.

5. You put on a shirt you have worn less than seven times and it is stained. Perhaps this is a lesser know super power, the ability to stain all my clothing. Somebody think up a good superhero name for me.

6. Just when you are getting ready to take the last child in the house to pre-school and get your precious alone time, the school nurse calls. You have to pick up your middle child.

7. How much better middle child miraculously feels when you tell her you are hauling her to the book store BECAUSE YOU HAD BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO GOING ALL DAY!

8. Listening to middle child nag you while you try to find a book until you give up.

9. The lady in the Mercedes who ACCELERATES when your child is in the crosswalk with you. (Does Black Sharpie wash off Mercedes? I hope not.)

10. Realizing you must be PMS'ing because you are a total crab.

11. What makes you go grrrrr?

Boots Places A Personal Ad

SDHIM (short, dark, handsome, intact male) seeking companionship. I enjoy snuggling in bed, eating out (of the trash) and walks on the beach. (when I get to go) I also enjoy long car rides and cuddling in front of a fireplace. If you don't have a fireplace, a heater vent will do.

My currrent lady love will not quit biting my scrotum and peeing on the floor so she has to go.

Species unimportant, but please, no scrotum biters need apply.

Better Off Dead

A gunman recently went on a rampage in an area near where we live. He killed one man and wounded some others. The police shot and killed him, thus saving us the expense of a trial.

The man the gunman killed was a good man. He sounded like an extraordinary man who loved his and other people's children. He was very involved in children's charities.

When people like that are killed senselessly, the world loses something special.

This posting isn't about those kind of people though. This posting is about the kind of people like the gunman who will probably have relatives coming out of the woodwork saying what a nice, gentle man he was.

This posting is about how some people seem to receive "saint" status when they are violently killed, even if they don't deserve it.

Why is it that we are so afraid to speak ill of the dead? Dying does not change the kind of person that you were.

If you were a drug-dealing thief, you don't become a hard-working businessman upon your passing.

Here are examples of what people say when a criminal dies and the translation of what it really means.

"He was trying to change his ways," means "He had cut down from five crack rocks a day to three."

"His girlfriend just had a baby," means "He had a court date Monday to force him to pay some child support."

"He always helped little old ladies across the street," means "He dragged them across the street because they wouldn't let go of the purse straps."

"He had an awful childhood," means "He spent the rest of his life punishing the rest of us for it."

"He was misunderstood," means "Nobody could tell what the hell his problem was."

What if just once, somebody said, "You know, he needed killing."

Wouldn't that be refreshing?

Catalog Update

I got another new catalog in the mail today called Improvements.

I can actually buy "Peel & Stick" crown molding.

Be still my beating heart!

Counting Chickens

How long ago was it I said I would get two and a half hours a day to myself?

Well, my youngest girl started back to school Monday, but my oldest was off. She, of course, wanted a ride somewhere.

My oldest went back to school Tuesday, but my youngest girl has been sick for two days. I can't go to the gym, or go buy Easter molds to make gfcf candy, or go buy some badly needed bookshelves or even just walk around the block.

This is what I get for counting my chickens before they hatch. In fact, we can't even have chickens where we live. Loud barking dogs, leaf blowers and chain saws at six in the morning are all fine. But absolutely no livestock is allowed.

But I digress....
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I have stopped buying vanilla almond milk. I have a few boxes left, but they are remaining un-opened in the cupboards. The reason is that SJ doesn't drink vanilla almond milk.

You can probably guess who has been drinking it.

The reason my oldest daughter wanted a ride Monday was so I could buy her some lunch. She said there was nothing to eat in the fridge.

You couldn't prove it by my ass.
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We have company coming around the 17th of April. They have never seen our house and, if I have my way, they won't see it the way it usually is.

So I have been cleaning and cleaning and cleaning.

A's bedroom is what I have been working on the last few days.

The toys are now put up to the best of my abilities.

My daughter's room, when clean, still resembles Neverland Ranch. That's just wrong.

Mailbox Mayhem

Our mailbox, as of late, has contained an excessive number of unwanted catalogs.

We keep receiving Mrs. Fields catalogs. I ordered a Mrs. Fields cookie tin for my mother last Mother's Day, when her leg was broken and she couldn't get out of bed. That was almost a year ago. They still faithfully send the catalogs. I'm sorry, but for the prices they charge, Mrs. Fields will have to personally visit and bake the cookies in my kitchen. Then she may have to service my husband also. Those are some expensive cookies.

We also get Roaman's, Lane Bryant and Just My Size.

Lane Bryant irritates me the most. They keep sending catalogs that say, "This is your last catalog if you don't order."

It's like a parent saying, "Michael, I'm going to punish you if you pee on the couch ONE MORE TIME," and never following through.

Quit sending them already! I actually tried to order from this catalog last winter. Everything that I wanted was sold out! That is ALWAYS the case with Lane Bryant. I don't know why I even try.

I ordered a strapless bra from Just My Size two or three summers ago. I carefully measured myself per their instructions. Of course the bra didn't fit. I'm not sure they make strapless bras to fit me. It's still sitting in my dresser drawer waiting for my tits to shrink.

I haven't ordered from the Roaman's catalog in forever either. Sometimes the models actually look bad in the clothes they're modeling.

If the model looks bad in it, I know it will look bad on me. Hell, if the model looks good in it, I know it will look bad on me.

We get catalogs once a week from Camping World. Yeah, because we camp a lot right now, what with the fifty-degree weather and hail storms.

Many years ago, we ordered some bed risers (they make your bed taller) from Harriet Carter. They must have sold our address because we receive a variety of different catalogs with a myriad of gadgets guaranteed to part us from our money. There are tons of "unique" things, like garden statues shaped like urinating dogs. A urinating dog statue is the must-have item for Christmas 2006, don't you know?

Recently, we received a Hard To Find Tools catalog. Hard to Find Tools - hee hee.

Dell keeps sending us catalogs. We ordered a flat-screen monitor AT LEAST a year and a half ago.

I don't have time to go through these catalogs and my recycle bin isn't big enough for them all.

I haven't even covered all the pre-approved credit card offers that come, sometimes three a day.

It's a wonder that we even have trees left on this planet. Good grief.

EEEWWWWW

If you go to www.comcast.net, and launch "the fan" videos, there is a lovely video about cockroaches.

These aren't just any roaches. People are wearing these roaches for jewelery.

Oh, and they're still alive!

They are hooked to chains with little jewels glued on their heads.

They're not tiny roaches either. They are huge Madagascar hissing cockroaches.

They're only forty bucks. Go buy one quick before they're all sold out.

I'm sure this will become a HOT fashion trend.

Too bad they don't sell dung beetles. Old Hoss could buy himself a watch fob.

Grocery Shopping

Today has been pretty relaxed, not a lot has happened.

There was one semi-exciting incident, well semi-interesting anyway.

When I went to the grocery store, the Oscar Meyer weiner mobile was parked in front. It actually looked kind of neat.

When I passed by it, all the adults standing around it began singing the Oscar Meyer theme song. I found that a bit creepy and walked faster so as not to be associated with them.

Towards the end of my grocery shopping, I heard somebody's kid blowing his weenie whistle, over and over and over again.

It turned out to be a kid who was about nine. His Mom was giving him that indulgent, "Aren't you special" look.

(No, lady, he's not special. You are a freaking moron if you think everybody in the store wants to hear him repeatedly toot his whistle. That's only cute if he's two! Take a wild guess where I would like to shove that whistle!)

Well the kid with the whistle drove me crazy. I checked out, walked out the door, and grabbed my kids a whistle too.

Why? Because I knew they would enjoy it and I'm a sucker, that's why.

Cars I've Known But Not Necessarily Loved

My daughter is getting her driver's permit soon. This brings up a slew of old memories.

She doesn't have a car yet. She wants to get a job to start saving, but I'm sure we will be helping out.

My parents, to the best of my memory, paid half of the price of my first car. (700.00) It was about three months before the end of my senior year. It felt as if I had been waiting FOREVER for my own car.

Maybe some of you were lucky enough to get what you wanted the first time around. This wasn't the case for me and hasn't been yet. LOL

I would love to see other people post on this subject if they are interested in doing so. Since Blogger sucketh on photo uploads, this post is in eight parts.

Without further ado, this is the car that I wanted.



This is the car I ended up with.



This car was brown and it didn't last very long. The heads cracked in the engine, whatever that means! Perhaps this happened because I tested the limits of the speedometer. Sorry Mom.

Part 2

It was time for another car. Here is what I wanted.



Here is what I got.



My parents picked this car out for me. Mine was 1970's brown just like the pic. They had a friend who owned a car lot. He let me pay one-hundred bucks a month until I paid it off.

It was dissapointingly ugly but it ran well. It was pretty fast also.

It had the vinyl seats that peel the skin off the back of your legs on a hot day.

I owned it for 4-5 years and for many miles. I still had it when I gave birth to my first child. Her carseat wouldn't fit in the back so she had to ride in the front. This was when I began jonesing for a four door.

Part 3

When it was time to get rid of the Monza, okay past time, I wanted this.



I got this.


A friend at work sold it to me for five-hundred down and then monthly payments. We later became enemies so she probably regretted selling me the car.

This car was like a disposable lighter. I didn't take great care of it so it was more likely my fault.

It also had no acceleration. Try merging onto the highway going 35mph. Fun Stuff!

Part 4

I still had my Hyundai in 1995 when I married my husband.

He had this.



When we moved to San Jose, he started driving the Hyundai to work and I got the Fiat. It had an ugly paint job but it was extremely fun to drive.

The top popped off and stored in the front.

It wasn't fast but it was very maneuverable. It saved my ass more than once from lame drivers as I could quickly switch lanes in it.

My husband wanted to sell it, but I wouldn't let him. We still have it and another X19. Neither is running. They are project cars.

Part 5

The Hyundai disentegrated and it was time for a new car.

We went to visit my husband's parents. He and his Dad went down to a car lot. My husband drove back two different cars to show me. The first one looked somewhat like this.


The second one was this.



I definitely wanted the first one. I had been waiting for a four-door for SEVEN LONG YEARS. My husband refused to get the first one. He called it a granny car. We ended up with the Probe.

Part 6

The next new car we got was for my husband. He wanted this and only this. We purchased it new.



Soon after we got the Ram, our second child was conceived. For the next 3 1/2 years after her birth, we drove around scrunched up in the Probe like a bunch of circus clowns.

Part 7

Two weeks before SJ arrived, we went shopping for a three-kid car. A sedan was deemed too small at this point. Here is what I wanted, but was too cheap to make the payments on.



Here is what we got.


Mine is burgundy. The salesman didn't look horribly appreciative when I called it an eggplant at the sales lot.

We have paid for it many times over in repair costs - piece of crap!

Part 8

Someday, when the kids are much older, I might pick out my own car. Here is what I have been eyeballing.



But then my husband showed me this.



Hmmmmm.

Happy Birthday Techie

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
You work in a kennel
Scooping up doggy Poo

Hubby says to tell you that HE reminded me of the date.

Windows

Blackbird's show and tell for this week is windows.

So here is one of mine. I showed it from the inside and outside.

I thought about washing it first, but know I've already told everybody that I have a kid who washes the window with his hand and spit.

So the bottom half of my window has been custom decorated by SJ.

These windows were installed late last year. We replaced the old ones with these double-paned ones. It made a huge difference in how cold the family room always felt in the morning.

Is Anybody Else Having This Problem

Okay, am I crazy? Wait - don't answer that.

Every time I try to post on any blog, I get this word verification "word". It is "smenita". (little smen)

When I type it in, I get "please type in the letters above".

Then it comes back the same word! It's following me from blog to blog.

Blogger hates me. It really hates me.

If anyone has this problem on my blog, use haloscan.

But I'm sure it's just me.

Guess I'm a total smenita.

Another Week - Another Gray Hair or Ten

Thank you everybody for all the kind comments about SJ yesterday. I probably don't deserve all the credit, but I'll take it anyway.

We have been eating pretty decently on this diet, but I would love a showstopper recipe.

My old showstopper was chicken cordon bleu. Unfortunately it involed flour, butter, cream and swiss cheese. That's too much substitution to get around.

If I presented my husband with cordon bleu made with rice flour, margarine, almond milk and soy cheese, he would slay me with his fork.

Does anybody have a great recipe without cream or cheese they would like to share, please?
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It's hard to believe another week is almost over.

I remember when my driver's license had written across it in big red letters "under twenty-one until 1990." Time dragged slower than an old lady in the crosswalk while you watch your green light turn to red.

Now it is moving at warp speed. My wrinkles are getting more pronounced. My hair and skin are beginning to resemble the Sahara desert.

Yeesh.
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Yesterday "A" and I went to the gym after we dropped guy at pre-school.

(She starts back to school next week and I will have two hours a day all to myself. Two hours! I'm almost giddy.)

Our gym built a new facility closer to where I live. It's not such a long drive anymore.

They don't offer any afternoon cycle classes so I do the elliptical machine. Yesterday I set the mode I wanted, entered my weight and time I wanted to exercise.

I exercised for thirty minutes, the time I entered, and then the machine automatically entered a five-minute cool down. What the heck! Doesn't sitting in the corner panting count as a cool down?

I burned a measly 328 calories. Why does it take so much longer to burn it than to cram it in my mouth?
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On Tuesday I noticed a teeny-tiny moth flying around in my van. I rolled down the window and it flew out, or so I thought.

On Wednesday morning, I got in the van and it suddenly flew up my noise. I started snorting furiously like a coke-fiend in reverse.

I'm not sure why it flew up my nose. Perhaps I'll quit storing our flashlights up there.

I hate moths. They seriously creep me out. I even remember the moment it started.

My Dad and I were on the ferris wheel at night and the lights attracted them. They were rushing towards the lights, but I thought they were attacking.

Silly that they still creep me out, but such is life. They're nasty buggers, plain and simple.
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I'm sure I have regaled you with the mundane happenings in my life long enough and it's time to get to work anyway. Work - a four letter word if I ever heard one.

Being Immature Is Fun

My teen daughter showed me something that she said she knew was immature.

Of course I completely enjoyed it.

Take a movie title and change the last word to "vagina."

I'll do a few examples:

Back to the Vagina
Dirty Old Vagina
The Sixth Vagina

I'm not sure what you do with a one word movie like "Rent" or "Grease."

Now it's your turn. Hee hee hee.
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I think we have been on the gfcf diet full time for almost three weeks now. (We fell off the wagon when the stomach flu hit.)

My child has gone from holding a video tape and saying "moomie" (movie) to saying, "Blue's Clues, Tubbies, Wiggles, and Cookie Monster."

Three months ago when his sister cried, he laughed.

Last night she was crying. He went up and hugged her and said, "I love you."

If he keeps making strides like this, life should be less difficult for him than I had feared. Cross your fingers for us.
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And from the paper:

"Natural blondes are likely to be extinct within the next 200 years, according to a study by the World Health Organization. That study says we can expect the last natural blonde to be born in Finland in 2202."

"Some researchers believe that women of Northern Europe evolved blond hair and blue eyes to make them more appealing to prospective mates. This happened before Clairol at the end of the Ice Age when men were in short supply, thanks to the hazards of hunting."

Well crap, so much for the dumb blonde jokes.

"S" is for Stupid

My husband got me, for my birthday, a fifty-dollar Borders card. I left it on the kitchen counter so I could grab it on the way out the door at some point.

Guess what I've lost? C'mon guess!

I am such an idiot. Fifty-dollars could have purchased me hours of escapism.

I almost think I grabbed it one day, but it's not in my purse or my van or on the counter. EEEERRRGGHH! Maybe I threw it away by mistake. That's a distinct possibility.

Those of you with Ouija Boards, please consult them and let me know where it is, please. (Yes, I'm kidding.)
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From the paper:

"At Kraft foods, recipes never include words such as "dredge" and "saute." Betty Crocker recipes avoid "braise" and "truss." Land O' Lakes has all but banned "fold" and "cream" from its cooking instructions. And Pillsbury carefully sidesteps "simmer" and "sear."

Apparently, according to the article, we have become a nation of culinary illiterates. Today's cooks do not have as many kitchen skills as their parents or grandparents did.

This has been blamed on mothers working outside the home, and therefore not teaching daughters to cook. It has also been blamed on a lack of home ec programs.

My favorite thing about the article was a call that General Mills received.

A man was irate about the fire that resulted when he greased the bottom of the pan. He greased the OUTSIDE bottom of the pan.

If he had killed himself in the resulting fire, would he have been a Darwin award recipient, do you think?

One Potato, Two Potato

Old Hoss has been BEGGING me for more potato posts.

So here goes.

Not too long ago, Old Hoss and Feelgood were walking on the beach.

Old Hoss noticed that all the ladies were checking out Feelgood and not looking at him.

"Feelgood, what's your secret?" he asked.

"Well," said Feelgood. "I put a potato down my swim trunks."

Old Hoss found that an interesting idea so he purchased his own potato and met Feelgood back on the beach.

All the ladies were looking at Hoss, but they were laughing too.

"Feelgood, I don't understand why they're laughing," said Hoss. "I did like you said,"

"Well, " said Feelgood, "You're supposed to put the potato in the FRONT of your trunks."

Scalloped Potatoes

For anybody who is cooking gfcf, I put a scalloped potato recipe on my other blog. (www.gfcfdiet.blogspot.com)

They were mighty tasty.

Confession Sunday

Today is Confession Sunday so I am jumping on the boat. Here goes...

Before I went on this gluten/casein free diet, I bought my own candy stash and hid it on the kids. One time "J" found my stash (and ate it) so I found a new hiding space.

Sometimes I find candy I forgot I hid.

I would rather read a book than play a game of Chutes and Ladders.

I have one child who I think I will always clash with. I love them all equally though.

My father was an alcoholic. I swore I would never drink.

I was sixteen the first time I got drunk. I loved it so much, I tried to do it as much as possible until I settled down in my mid to late twenties.

If I didn't have kids, I would probably drink every day. Now I just WANT to drink every day.

My new drug is food. I eat even when I'm not hungry.

There's a large mirror in our bathroom. When I have to take a shower, I avoid looking in it. My eyes, my eyes, aaaaghhhhh!

I have borrowed money from my kids and not paid it back. As much as they nickel and dime me to death in the grocery store, I figure they still owe me.

Sometimes when I'm driving in my car, without kids, I realize I am still singing along to one of their stupid CD's.

Sometimes I get so mad I feel like I'm going to explode. Someday I think I will.

I can't sleep without covers on, even when it's a hundred degrees in the summer.

I posted this on Saturday night. But you all probably figured that out by the date.

Happy Confessing!

The Pit Stop Cafe

There was a rather unusual crime report in the local paper.

A restaurant in Kyburz, CA takes their restroom guarding privileges very seriously.

Restrooms are for paying customers only. If you don't buy something from them, you must pay five dollars to use the restroom.

I can see where business owners don't want Stinky Stan coming in daily to leave a spray pattern in the toilet bowl, but come on! These people take it to the extreme.

A woman walked in and used the restroom. As she exited the restroom, the owners (a husband and wife) began harrassing her.

She said she had planned on buying a cup of coffee until they got in her face and began yelling. (Only she knows if that is the case.)

The husband followed her outside and got behind her car. He wouldn't let her back out. She offered him the five dollars.

He said, "No," because at that point, they were calling the police.

She tried backing out. He wouldn't move. The car barely brushed him.

When the police got there, he and his wife stated they were going to file charges.

I can't remember the name of this restaurant. If I did, I guarantee I would NEVER eat there.

I will dub it "The Pit Stop Cafe."

If you don't pay, you don't pee.

Feeling Blue

I caught sight of these blue clouds through the window.

A raspberry Kool-Aid storm is on its way.

Drat! My favorite flavors are orange and tropical punch. They are good individually or mixed together.

What's your favorite Kool-Aid flavor?

The Never Used Butter Dish

Like Babelbabe, I never actually use my butter dish. We always pull the butter package from the fridge, hack some off and put it back.

Nucoa margarine is what we use most for most of the cooking now. I know, yuck, but it is casein free and you can get used to almost anything.

This isn't really a butter dish. I'm not sure what it is. I grabbed it at a garage sale to use as a butter dish, because I liked the way it looked. It has scalloped edges and a flower pattern inside.

Then, of couse, we never used it. If anybody knows what the heck it is, tell me please.
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Don't you love when you go to pee and sit down on a completely wet seat?

That happened to me today. "A" left the bathtub, sat on the seat and didn't dry it. At least it was just tub water. The first thought that flies through my head when I sit on a wet seat isn't a pretty one.
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While reading the paper this week, I stumbled across an article that stated people with children are more depressed than people without.

The depression does not go away when the kids leave the house. (Maybe that is because nowadays they don't!)

The reason for the depression, researchers theorized, was because we worry about our children.

They have it all wrong. The reason for the depression is because they cost every penny you have, and by the time they are gone, there's nothing left to retire on.

I thought of a few more reasons for child-free people to be happier.

They can poop without somebody watching intently or screaming at the door.

They can eat out without taking a dustbuster, suitcase full of coloring books and a jumbo package of wet wipes.

They can wear white.

When they're driving through Deliveranceville, on a long road trip, they don't hear a voice from the back say, "I have to go potty NOW."

Of course there are great advantages to parenthood.

Everybody loves all the funny poop and vomit jokes we tell. Right, right? (Why do I hear crickets chirping?)

If you are a total slob, with stained clothes, you can always say your kids spilled something on you.

If you need money for Starbucks, you can always borrow the money their Grandma gave them. (Right, Babelbabe?)

If you're on a boring phone call, you can always say, "I've gotta run. The kids set the cat on fire again."
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I get to pick my daughter up in an hour. Then my day is almost done, maybe, unless she wants to be driven somewhere. Sigh.

A Trip To The DMV

Today I had to go get my driver's license renewed. I made an appointment online for ten in the morning.

I showed up at nine-fifty like a good little girl.

My two lovely younger children, "A" and "SJ", went with me. I forgot SJ's leash in the car.

Dumb dumb dumb.

I was given a number at the front of the line. (F003) I thought I heard it called immediately, but when I looked up somebody else was walking up to the window I had been paged too.

I took the savages, er children, to a side room with a water fountain to wait. They were noisy like a couple of jungle animals, but we were out of the way. (I will add that "A" knows better than to act that way. She was grounded from taekwondo tonight.)

I kept them contained to the best of my abilities. I heard numbers like H005 and G003 called. Ten minutes went by. It felt like forty-five.

Then I heard F004 and F005. But wait, I was F003. Now I knew what the "F" stood for. I went and got back in line to get a new number.

This was when all hell broke loose.

SJ began running around the DMV and shrieking in glee. I was trying to stay in line and couldn't chase him. "A" was acting like a baboon also. This is the point where I am looking desparate. What does the beeyotch in charge of the line I'm in do? She turns aside to help someone else, leaving me standing there.

Another lady that worked there came up to me and said, "Are those your children?"

"Yes," I reluctantly admitted.

"Well, you need to keep them quiet. People are testing."

I said, "Well, I'm sorry. My son has special needs. If I hold him in place, he will have a tantrum and be just as loud."

She opened a window just for me and whisked me away.

I picked up SJ and held him. He began shrieking at the top of his lungs. I told "A" she'd better sit down or else.

People all over were glaring at me like they had never seen a kid have a tantrum before. Why do people think they have the right to judge the parenting when they know nothing about the situation?

One nice lady at the DMV gave me a blue candy stick for him and that quieted him down. I'm sure it had milk product in it though, as he has the runs tonight. Normally I would have turned it down, but I was desperate.

The lady finished my paperwork. She said, "Meet me at the photo window. I'll take your picture.

As I was backing up, I heard an irritated voice say, "Excuse me. I'm behind you."

A man in a wheelchair was behind me. I apologized. He proceeded to park himself so I was blocked away from the photo window and couldn't get to it.

The lady was at the photo window waiting and I asked, "Excuse me, are you waiting in the photo line?" (Yes, I would have asked this of anyone blocking the way at this point, wheelchair or not.)

He freaking snarled at me, "YES I AM."

Alrighty then.

There was one other person getting a photo done who turned out to be his son. So no, he wasn't in the fucking line. He was just watching his son and blocking me from getting in the line.

Finally, he moved his ass and I got my photo done wearing my best "get me the hell out of here" smile, and then I did get the hell out of there. This was a bit past ten.

I try very hard not to take my son places where I don't have to. I didn't take him to restaurants even before the special diet started. I learned the hard way in October that he couldn't go to special events. (the retirement home fiasco) I can't watch my daughter do taekwondo unless my husband is home to watch him.

But I HAD to go to the DMV and I can't pay a sitter forty dollars every time I need both kids watched.

I need to get a thicker skin and not let these things bug me, I know. There will be many more moments like this.

But why do people have to be so mean?

Yuck.

I felt like crying most of the day and didn't start feeling better until around four.

So now I have unloaded on all of you. Sorry. But I had to unload.

And SJ is crying again so I also have to go. Thank goodness the weekend is almost here.

Lord I am So Tired - How Long Can This Go On?

I think that is how the line went anyway. I quote it often enough when I'm working around this house.

There was a commercial on TV today for the hit music of Devo. I think that would be exactly two songs - "Whip It" and "Working In A Coal Mine."

Come on people, buy their stuff. They spent all their money twenty years ago. Be kind to Devo.

There was another blast from the past this week when I was cleaning out my closet. It was an old cassette tape - "Emotions in Motion" by Billy Squier. I used to loooove Billy Squier.

I also heard on the news this week that one of my old favorite groups was getting inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. That would be Blondie. Damn I'm old. Maybe somebody should just shoot me and put me out of my misery now.

I used to joke with my husband that you knew you were old when the TV started showing albums compiled of music hits from your era. That joke went stale about ten years ago when all those "Hits of the 80's" commercials started coming on. It was only funny until it applied to me, as so many jokes are.

Does anyone remember when preachers went through town preaching hell fire and damnation to those who listened to "rock music?" Then they would play the songs backward to demonstrate the hidden messages.

Come on, how many of you ran home and played your albums backward? I know I did.
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Driving down the road today, I heard a loud sound.

I rolled down my window to see if it was me. Phew. It wasn't.

The sports car in front of me had a loud engine, that was all. They were tailgating the slow driver in the granny car in front of them.

They turned behind this car and followed them too so I think it was some good old road rage.

Then I started thinking about "roid rage. That is when guys taking steroids get whacked out.

For most people, roid rage is when the tube of Preparation H is missing.
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SJ does not like any bathroom business to be done on the side of the door he isn't on. This results in him pounding out in the hallway and yelling, "Open a DOH!"

The other day, he just shrieked, "DOH, DOH, DOH!"

It was like having Homer Simpson in the hallway.

My husband needs the computer and I haven't even got to read all your blogs yet. Crud.

Calgon, Take Me Away

The above photo is courtesy of my daughter "J". That is our dog but the thermometer was photo-shopped.
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This house is looking so bad! It is making everyone crazy. Yesterday my husband proclaimed that we were having a house-cleaning party.

It sounded great to me. Only I was the only one who attended the party. When there are five people messing and one person cleaning, it's completely impossible for it to look like anything but the aftermath of a tornado.
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The kids are bad about picking up a toy or book, playing with it a bit, and then throwing it on the floor.

SJ threw a book on the kitchen floor. I told him, "Hey, pick up that book."

He leaned over, picked it up, and threw it two feet away on a different spot on the floor.

Technically, he picked it up. What more could I want?
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Our local radio station is having a contest to win Black-Eyed Pea tickets.

To win tickets, you have to make the DJ's laugh.

A woman called in and told Old Hoss's joke about the pirate with the steering wheel down his pants.

She won the tickets. I will have to raid Old Hoss's blog next time I want to win a joke-telling contest.
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I am now enjoying almond milk. I'm not completely sure I will be returning to cow's milk.

I do miss cream cheese and yogurt. I also miss regular cheese.

There is a brand of vegan cheese called "Follow Your Heart." Unfortunately it isn't sold in this area. Boo hoo.

Boobariffic

Maybe I shouldn't say this, but I am boob obsessed.

It might have started in grade school when mine came in way too early. While other girls still looked like sticks, I looked like the Jolly Green Giant with developing boobage on my chest.

I remember how badly I hated the boobs. They were a source of embarrassment.

One time, I was playing outside with a friend. It was the summertime and hot. We were running around in shorts and no shirts. I was probably around nine years old and didn't think much about running around shirtless. The year before I had done it. My mother said, "You need to put on a shirt because you have breasts."

I had to put on a shirt and I wasn't happy. The fact that my friend didn't have to made me so mad, that I threw a ball at her really hard and gave her a black eye. Nice, huh? She didn't know why I did it.

Lest you think this friend was a sweet little thing, she thought it was funny to pretend my growing boobs were punching bags. Ouch!

Eventually I lost this friend. We were riding on the teeter totter and I purposely made her fall. Her front teeth got chipped and she looked like a vampire. Her mother wouldn't let her play with me after that. You know, I think I had anger issues as a kid. But I digress.

Anyway, the boobs were humiliating. We had to say the pledge of allegiance every morning and I didn't know where to put my hand. I didn't want to touch my boobs. It was the spot where I used to put my hand, but now there were boobs there.

Bras were a torture device straight from the middle ages as far as I was concerned. If this was growing up, I wanted none of it.

Eventually, but not fast enough for me, other people got boobs. Some girls were actually jealous of mine because I was nicely endowed. Well a 36C, not ginormous by any means.

I did hate running in phys ed class, because I didn't want anyone to see them bouncing.

When I had my first child, my boobs became something different entirely. They were food. They were a way to bond, something nobody but I could do with my child.

Then she weaned and the realization dawned that they resembled a photo shoot from National Geographic. I was only twenty-one and my boobs were all washed up!

Over the years, I lost self-consciousness about the boobs. There were too many things to worry about.

Then my oldest daughter had to comment about how much they bounced when I ran, "like a cartoon caricature."

Now I was self-conscious all over again. In cycling class when I go fast, I can feel them jiggle. I look around at other women. Some are jiggling. Some have boobs that hold perfectly still, usually nice perky boobs.

Is that the secret to boobs that don't jiggle? Is it perkiness? Is it an excellent bra? Someone tell me darn it!

I am also obsessed with other people's boobs out of gym class. If a woman is particularly large, I notice. If a woman is in her mid-forties and they still look gravity-defying, I wonder if they're real.

Do any other women out there look at other women's boobs? Am I a freak?

Don't answer that!

Does anybody else have thoughts on boobs they would like to share? Feel free.

Snow Daze

We got snow - honest to goodness snow!

Last night, around ten o' clock, it snowed. It was a very light dusting on the ground. The girls and I went outside around ten-thirty and made a small snowman. I put him on the porch in case it rained. He is steadily melting as the day goes on.

There was no snow left this morning, except on cars and roofs. SJ is enjoying the "noman" on the porch.

Some idiot drove down the street last night very quickly and then discovered his truck wasn't stopping when he hit the brakes. Duh!

When we put the dogs outside to go to the bathroom, their facial expressions said, "You're kidding, right?"
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"A" wanted to help cook dinner last night. I was putting frozen corn on the cob in a pot and she wanted to help.

"It's really cold," I said.

"Well I know that, Mom, since it's been in the freezer."

That must be the six-year old's equivalent of saying, "No shit, Sherlock."
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SJ was on the playground at pre-school this week when he pooped. He then pulled off his diaper in the middle of the playground in front of God and everybody.

He makes his Mama so proud.
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I need to write down a menu today for the whole week. Then I can make one monstrous trip to the store tomorrow (minus kids) instead of stopping in the store every day.
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I am going to do my favorite thing and go read everybody else's blogs.

Cooking and Driving and Cooking, Oh My

Lately it seems I have been doing nothing but cooking and driving. Those two activities are taking up most of my day. I have been actively experimenting with gfcf recipes and also actively adding some pounds from frequent taste testing.

I also drive "J" to school in the morning, "SJ" to school at noon and "A" to her tutoring at 2:15. (She is off track right now.)

Then I pick up "SJ" at 2:30, "J" at 3:15 and "A" at 3:30. It seems like half my day is spent on the road.

I had a successful recipe conversion this morning. I made a coffee cake using Bette Hagman's flour conversion, doubled the baking powder, added xantham gum, lowered the baking temp and it came out pretty good.

I had a not so successful recipe conversion with chocolate chip cookies. They tasted good but they had to be scraped off the pan first. LOL
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The newspaper had an article regarding "Crash" vs. "Brokeback Mountain".

Many people in the gay community thought that "Crash" won the Oscar because Hollywood is homophobic.

Come again! How can Hollywood be homophobic? I thought a large majority of the people in show business were gay.

Other people thought that "Crash" deserved the Oscar because it explored racial prejudices.

Maybe next year, a film maker can make a film that explores both prejudice and gay sex. Perhaps a remake of Chained Heat is in order.
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My free California tourism guide that I ordered came in the mail.

The cover says, "California. Find Yourself."

Maybe it should say instead, "California - The Mid-Life Crisis State."

Or perhaps, "California - Let Your Fingers Do The Walking."

Yes, I'm An Idiot

I installed haloscan so nobody would have to do word verification to post comments.

Now my blog shows two spots to leave comments. You can leave comments the haloscan way or the old-fashioned way.

I'm not sure how to fix this.

On the bright side, everyone can choose how to leave their comments.

It's not ALL bad.

First Day of Pre-School

Today was the first day of pre-school for SJ. He wore a red shirt with a car on it and some black sweats. The sweats were kind of short, as he has sprouted up lately. He is a 3T in waist size and a 4T in height.

It was impossible for anyone to see the red shirt as he wouldn't take off his sweatshirt. It's his favorite sweatshirt. It is striped with lots of bright colors.

I stayed with him for half an hour. He didn't want me to leave but he did great at school. In fact, when I picked him up, he was ignoring me. I wasn't half as exciting as playing in the sink.
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We recently switched to Comcast Cable so I called today to cancel Dish Network. We did this because cable was slightly cheaper. Dish Network is much better to watch. Their remote control has a "guide" button. You can hit it and see a listing of what is on each channel and a description of it. You can also see what is coming up and a description of it too. I miss Dish, but, on the bright side, my tv viewing is way down.

Anyway, I called to cancel. The gentleman on the other end kept telling me that Dish was a much better choice, better priced, etc. I said I knew that but we were switching. He then went through the spiel again. After he went through the spiel for the third time, I said, "Dude, I feel like I'm trying to break up with my boyfriend and he's not taking it well."

He laughed and let me cancel.
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SJ's first dentist appointement is tomorrow. Shudder.

It's at 10:10. So is my DMV appointement this week. Is there any significance to the numbers 10:10? If so, let me know.
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There's a really old joke I was thinking about today. You've probably all heard it, but I need to get it out of my head.

A bear and a rabbit are in the woods.

The bear asks the rabbit, "When you go number two, does poop stick to your fur?"

The rabbit answers, "Why no."

"Oh good," says the bear. He then proceeds to pick up the rabbit and use him to wipe his butt with.

From my head to yours.
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I read in Ms. L's blog about her daughter tying her shoes and decided to give it another try on teaching my daughter.

Only this time, I taught her a different way. It was a way my grandfather taught me when I was younger. After you do the first knot, you make TWO bunny ears. Then you tie them in a knot the same way you made the first knot.

It looks the same and it's a lot easier to learn. She got it quickly and was very proud of herself. I had a hard time learning to tie shoes as a child and this way was very easy for me.

My father wouldn't let me tie my shoes that way. He said it wasn't the "right" way to do it. His way was the only way to do anything.

I hope he's spinning in his grave. LOL

Speaking of fathers, Babelbabe, on www.behindthestove.blogspot.com wrote a lovely tribute to her father. It is well worth reading. I suggest going there.

Waking Up Is Hard To Do

"J" caught the Amtrak this morning to go visit her Dad. The departure time was 6:35 a.m. We had to leave at 5:15 so I was up by 4:30. Ick.

I wanted to sneak off without SJ, but he woke up so we took him also. SJ has a finely honed radar that kicks in when I get up in the morning without him. I am NOT to do anything without him stuck like a booger to my leg.

SJ is also much like his father in the mornings. He doesn't wake up easily. My husband has improved over the years about being so grumpy in the morning. SJ has a long way to go on curbing his grumpiness.

So he yelled a while. When I picked him up, he yelled to be put down. When I put him down, he yelled to be picked up. Maybe he will take an early nap today. Now that would be nice.
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Last night I was ready to complain because we couldn't get take-out anymore. Then I realized there are worse things in life to complain about.

Sure, I didn't feel like cooking, but all I had to do was open the freezer, thaw some meat in the microwave and cook it. I nuked some potatoes and heated some canned corn on the stove.

It wasn't high cuisine but nobody was complaining.

I can think of worse things, like not having any food at all.

I DO miss Chinese food. I will have to learn to cook it - with gluten-free soy, of course.
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I took the kids to an indoor play place yesterday called "Funtastic."

"A" did her usual job of picking out a "friend" to play with.

She looks around the room and finds the kid whose mother looks like she's been sucking on lemons AND has a fork crammed up her ass. That's the kid she plays with.

Anyway, this kid accidentally grabbed "A's" juice box and, gasp, put it to his mouth. The mother didn't just say, "That isn't yours."

She said it in a tone of voice that really said, "OMG, you're going to get cooties and die after drinking from the same box as that vile child."

I hate uptight people.

And his name was Carter. Please don't take offense if any of you have a kid named Carter, but it made me think she watched too much E.R. And I hated the way she whined his name.

"Carter, get down, you might get hurt. Carter don't take candy from strangers. Carter, I will never cut the apron strings and no girl will ever be good enough for you!"

Anyhoo, y'all have a great weekend!

SJ Has Left The Building

This has been a strange week with my little one.

He was out of it Monday, I thought because he was off his diet.

I thought I had him back on Tuesday.

Then Wednesday turned out to be quite a challenge. We went to the "Pack It Your Own Damn Self" grocery store. Every time we go there, he gets a free cookie from the bakery. Only now, he can't.

He was furious. I said, "No cookie."

He shrieked with the fury of a teen girl who can't find her zit creme.

I offered him some grapes. He continued to shriek. All the way through the store, he bellowed.

We checked out while he continued to scream. He shrieked in his car seat and all the way to pick up "A" from taekwando. He shrieked all the way home.

Tantrum start time - 4:35
Tantrum end time - 5:20

He also insists on listening to the same song in the van over and over and over. No other song will do.

He was furious this morning because he wanted to watch a Cookie Monster video on Comcast and it isn't there anymore.

He has been clinging like crazy.

And the biggest thing, the thing that bugs me the most, is he is not all here. He is staring into space a lot with a glazed look in his eyes.

Earth to SJ. Come in SJ. Where are you?
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Today I ordered from Amazon, for the THIRD time "Special Diets For Special Kids." I keep picking super saver (free) shipping and they keep delaying sending the order. Then I get mad and cancel it. This time I will wait.

I think they are trying to discourage people from using the super saver shipping. It used to be almost as fast as regular shipping. Now it is like waiting for your favorite porn web page to load when you only have a dial-up connection.

Return To The Gym

"A" is off track from school and begging to go to the gym. She loves the play area.

Today she got her wish. I packed up both little ones and away we went.

I spent fifteen minutes on the treadmill and then went to spin class.

The instructor was a very buff man with a wife-beater shirt on, all the better to show off his muscles. Many of the ladies asked to have their bikes adjusted. Every time I see a guy who obviously cares about his physique that much, I think about the scene in "Thirteen Going On Thirty" where the main character's buffed boyfriend does the "Ice Ice Baby" dance. Yick.

Cycle class was fun enough. At one point the instructor yelled, "Go go!" like an Army commercial.

He yelled other phrases such as, "pump your legs, explode your heart," and "My, your lips are turning blue."

I ended class five minutes early so I wouldn't have to wait in line to wipe my bike down. I was going to stretch in the locker room but didn't. Yes, I'll pay tomorrow.
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Every year at Christmas, Santa wraps the presents he brings in different paper than the other presents.

This year, Santa hid his paper under my bed. That's okay, as nothing ever exits from there.

My in-laws came to visit and gave us their old bed. My FIL unwittingly pulled out the paper and put it in my bedroom.

You would think after two months, that "A" wouldn't remember what kind of paper the big guy used. You would be wrong.

"Look Mom, why did Santa leave his paper here?"

"I don't know honey, maybe he was in a hurry."

She isn't buying it. I can tell.

How many kids remember after TWO MONTHS let alone two minutes?
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Old Hoss mentioned in his blog yesterday that he didn't have much time left. The idea of Old Hoss not being around and blogging bugged me.

Apparently it bugged me more than I realized. All night I kept dreaming that Old Hoss wasn't blogging and I was worried about him.

Old Hoss, don't quit blogging. And may you have many more years to do it in.
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My MIL brought up some Kraft Marshmallow Creme last time they visited. I called Kraft to make sure it was gluten and casein free. I received the stock answer, which was that they would list on their product if there were any ingredients that consumers may be allergic too.

But SJ ate some and he immediately got kind of funny.

I can't find anything on google about this. Does anyone have any info?
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SJ went to see his new pre-school again today while I dropped off paperwork. I spotted lots of other kids who were like him. They have a certain look and mannerisms that give them away. It's like a secret handshake that lets others know you are in the autism disorders club.

He will be around lots of kids like him and lots of mainstream kids also. I hope he does well.
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It is only nine-twenty and my eyelids are heavy. It's been a long day.