Road Trip - Part Two

We entered Lake Tahoe. It was amazingly quiet for Memorial Day weekend, probably because it was so darn cold.

We had been worried about finding a motel, but vacancy signs were all over the place. My teeth were floating and my eyes were yellow so I wasn't prepared to be too picky.

The requirements of my husband and kids are pool and hot tub. I saw one place with in-room hot tubs. That would have appealed to me as I won't wear a swimsuit in public. :D

But we kept driving on until we came to the motel we stayed at last time we were in Tahoe. My husband loves this place. My oldest daughter thought it was very nice too.

It's not a bad motel. I had a few complaints. My biggest complaint was the doors. They don't have the locks that are about five feet up - the ones that little hands can't reach. This means there is no way to keep my son locked in the room.

They also only supply two washclothes. So if the whole family wants to say, SHOWER, somebody has to go to the lobby for more.

The pillows are flatter than a house pet that tried to cross the road.

And the maid's attempts to make our motel room "homey" by leaving pubic hairs on the bathroom floor, were wasted on me. No pre-pubed floor, please.

I'm just saying.

Once we were in the room, the kids started running around and screeching like savages.

If you happen to be the unfortunate family next door to us, you will hear one of two things.

One of them is constant, uninterrupted screeching and thumping.

The other is screeching and thumping followed by me yelling, "CUT IT OUT!"

Then there is maybe three minutes of silence, if that, followed by screeching, thumping and me yelling yet again.

My kids are like a case of herpes. They might be subdued temporarily but then they flare right back up.

Yes, I just compared my children to venereal disease. Do you need my address so you can mail me the Good Housekeeping mothering skills seal of approval?

In summary, if you are in the motel room next to me, you pretty much hate me and my family. And I do apologize, because, believe me, if I could keep them quiet, I would.

We already avoid restaurants, movies and other public places but we have to leave the house sometime so as not to grow mold on our posteriors.

My husband and oldest daughter made a food run while I lured the savage beasts into the tub. That kept them quiet and the arrival of the food also worked wonders.

After eating, my husband and the girls went down to the hot tub. I managed to read for about three minutes, before boy child got turdy.

I took him down and sat to watch him. He decided he wanted to get in the hot tub with his Dad. I had forgotten his suit so I went back to the room.

Then I had to deal with THE KEY CARD. I hate the key card. You know how some people can't wear watches because they won't work?

I can't use a key card. I can slide it in the door seven ways from Sunday and it will never open. I can slide it in slow, fast, upside down, right side up, pointing towards the parking lot, pointing away from the parking lot, doesn't matter.

The SOB won't work. A pox on whoever invented the key card!

My oldest daughter came to help me and then decided to stay in the room. I went back down to the hot tub and helped with the little ones while my oldest daughter had a bath. A BATH! That's one of those things that people without kids take for granted.

After kids, it becomes an exercise in futility. Even if your belly will still fit under the water, someone is pounding on the door the whole time.

We went back to the room when my son decided it was time to pull down his suit and pee. I caught him in time and hurried him back to the room.

Then the two girls and my husband tried to watch TV while I tried to read.

The boy ran around the motel room alternately shutting off my reading light, closing the armoire doors in front of the TV, running water in the sink and opening and shutting the blasted door.

We slid a table in front of the door but reading and TV watching went out the window.

Since it was almost ten, I suggested we all just go to sleep.

We turned out the lights and then somebody showed up with their kids. They were letting their kids run up and down the hallways with rolling suitcases and they kept slamming the door to their room.

Or hey, maybe they had been napping when we showed up and they were just waiting for the lights to go out so they could return the favor.

When my son woke up later at two-thirty a.m., I was wishing I knew where their room was so I could run down the hall, pound on their door screeching and then slip back in my room.

This plan involved my husband holding the door open for me since I CAN'T USE THE KEY CARD!

The next morning my husband went to the free continental breakfast to grab some stuff for the family. Anywhere in America where you can get free food resembles a cattle stampede. It was no different there.

We drove home after I packed us up. We didn't do anything but go home because my husband and oldest daughter didn't think to pack a jacket. Sigh.

Still, it was nice to get out of the house, and we went home the short way. We were only on the road an hour and a half. Phew.

I'm glad it's over.

Till Tuesday

Tuesday was when I was going to post again, but I am one of those annoying people who always arrives early. Invite me to a party at your own peril.

The cold/allergy attack coughing all day and night thingie seems to have deserted me for now. My youngest daughter is starting to get sick at this point. We never used to get sick this often. I am beginning to feel like we are the unhealthiest family on the planet.

I promised my oldest that we would let her finish high school. That is two years away. As soon as the diploma is in her hot little hands, we may be leaving the area and moving somewhere else - like inside a plastic bubble.
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We took a drive on Saturday with no specific destination in mind. I asked my husband if we could drive down Hwy 49, as I never had been there.

It was a pretty drive with winding roads, lots of trees and a big river. Then we took Hwy 89 (or 88, I forget.) towards Jackson.

We passed through many of those little towns that make me say, "Oh, I want to live here."

For me, those are the towns that are pint-sized with one main street. The houses are usually New England style with beautifully manicured lawns. and you can see the locals congregating to gossip.

We could never afford to live in one of those Mayberry-type towns without winning the lottery or putting the kids up for adoption. But still, I have the fantasy every time I see one.

My husband turned on the radio and I half-listened to a commercial. A man's voice was sternly announcing that drunk voting was a crime, just like drunk driving.

Drunk voting, huh? Actually that sounds like fun to me.

Usually I go in sober and vote for the candidate that sucks the least. But if I went in drunk, I could spin in my booth with my eyes closed and put my finger on the card. Then I could vote for the politician whose name my finger hit - kind of like pin the tail on the donkey. (or elephant)

In fact, the only reason I vote is so I don't have to hear annoying people say, "You have no right to complain if you don't vote."

I vote solely so I can complain.

But back to the radio commercial. Drunk BOATING - it was drunk boating. OHHHHH - Now it made sense.

We kept driving towards the mountains. Our van has a gauge that shows the outside temperature. It gradually went from 64 degrees to 30 degrees.

The day went from sunny to gray. Patches of snow were on the ground. We stopped to use the restrooms. People in coats were staring at us like we were crazy in our t-shirts.

We were almost two hours into the drive. The kids had gotten impatient a good forty-five minutes ago. It was going to be quicker to continue going the way we were than to turn around.

We continued climbing the mountain. We saw a massive lake that was mostly frozen over. It began snowing!

We had to eventually pass a freaked out lady on the road. I looked at her as we drove by. She was hunching over the steering wheel with a terrified look.

Is there some law regarding women that says if you pass fifty, you have to drive around like a semi is going to hurtle across your path at any minute? I see so many women clenching that wheel with their teeth gritted while they go ten miles below the speed limit. What gives?

We braved on and ended up in South Lake Tahoe. For the last forty minutes, my bladder had been so full, I had been wishing to find the perfect clump of trees, a clump large enough to hide my butt while I squatted. Only we were in an avalanche area, so my husband couldn't have pulled over even if I would have peed by the road.

Lake Tahoe was amazingly quiet. My husband asked if I wanted to stay in a motel or head home.

I told him I had to pee RIGHT NOW and I wanted a motel thank you very much. Plus, the kids and I were road-tripped out.

Tomorrow I'll finish this story. It has gone on long enough, much like our road trip.

This Is Too Funny

I sat down just to read a few blogs today and ended up visiting all of you. :)

For a really funny post, go here and read The Adventures of Spydra entry.

http://you-are-not-the-boss-of-me.blogspot.com/

You won't be dissapointed.

Tired Out

The constant drain of allergies have left me overtired and underblogging.

I'll be back Tuesday.

Everyone have a good weekend.

Thursday Show And Tell

Blackbird wanted a picture of a rock for Thursday show and tell.

I found the hardest one that I could.

Happy Thursday.

Wacked Out Wednesday

A bit more info on the pseudophedrine medicine seems in order. I think that pseudophedrine is one of the necessary ingredients for making crank.

Most of the medicines that contain this ingredient are locked behind the pharmacy counter at Longs Drug. When I purchase any of these medicines, they scan my driver's license number.

So if I come back during the same month to buy more pseudophedrine-filled medicine, I am denied. Whole family got sick? Tough luck!

I don't know if I drive to Safeway, if they have the same information as Longs. My best bet would be no. In theory, I think I could buy a bottle at Longs and then one at Safeway.

Do the feds get the info from all the stores at the end of the month? Will they come to my door with guns drawn?

"Maam we have a report that you purchased three bottles of Nyquil this month. Step aside. We will need to search the premises."

Bastards, I'll just sick my dust bunnies on 'em.

I don't know if this is a national law or just more of California's fuckwittery. This shiny new adjective was borrowed from Badger Daddy's Bungay Blog.
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Yesterday I purchased a Woman's World Magazine. I didn't purchase if for the teaser line of "Lose a pound a day on The Da Vinci Code Diet!"

The Da Vinci code is a work of fiction, much like the idea of me going on a diet.

Another article was titled "How guacamole can boost your mood."

Everyone knows how to boost their mood with guacamole. Pour a bowl of chips. Mix some margaritas. Voila. Instant mood boost achieved.

Amazingly, they didn't have a picture of ass-fattening chocolate cake on the front. That's one thing I hate about women's magazines.

They usually put the diet and the cake on the front cover. It's like saying, "In case our diet doesn't work, you can always cook this cake and roll in it."
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This last part of the posting is for Sponge Bob fans. When the driving instructor showed up at our door last Sunday, I wanted to put a flashlight under my chin (like Mrs. Puffs handing out detention) and intone, "May God have mercy on your soul."

Not surprisingly, the driving instructor has gray hair.

Living the High Life

I am now the proud new owner of an epi-pen. This is just in case I again eat something that causes the Quasimodo effect.

The pharmacist told me to read the directions on the box before a situation arrives where I need to use it.

Ya think?

I also purchased some Musinex. It works quite well, as it should for 23 bucks a box.

I wanted to purchase some Nyquil. I had purchased some the day before and my daughter misplaced it. But...it has pseudophedrine in it. By law, I am only allowed to buy one product a month with pseudophedrine in it.

This is to prevent SAHM's from making extra income by cooking crank on the side. Because everyone knows I keep my crank cookin' shed in the back yard between the swing set and the Little Tikes playhouse.
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My husband endeared himself to me by pushing my son around the house on his toy motorcycle last night.

The way to a man's heart might be through his stomach, but the way to my heart is straight through my kids.
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Nothing interesting is going on here. My brains seems to be lacking creativity probably due to lack of sleep.

Have a great Tuesday.

Eating Pizza With The Kids

SJ is off his diet this week, mostly because I have been sick and lacking in energy.

So we had pizza delivered tonight. One wouldn't think that eating pizza is quite an adventure but they would be wrong.

1. Lure SJ in house with breadstick.

2. Put the breadstick on a plate on the table. Move aside dirty cups that I was too tired to pick up earlier.

3. Notice that SJ has spilled orange soda all over the dining room floor that was mopped yesterday. Clean it up.

4. Fix A's plate and drink. Set it in front of her. Listen to her complain because she got water instead of soda.

5. Fix my plate. Sprinkle peppers on pizza.

6. Sit down and realize that soda was also spilled in the chair. Go to bedroom to change into dry shorts.

7. Come back to table. Wonder why SJ is crying. Realize he took a bit of my pepper covered pizza.

8. Get up to show A where the parmesan cheese packets are. Tell her to open it herself.

9. Sit down. Take a bite. Realize peppers are super hot. Eat pizza while panting frantically in an effort to cool my mouth.

10. Tell SJ to quit wiping his hands on my shirt. Show him the wet towel I laid out for that use.

11. Jump five feet as SJ spills his second drink all over my leg.

12. Help SJ take off his soda saturated shoes.

13. Mop up SJ's second drink off the floor that was clean a little over 24 hours ago.

14. Finish gobbling now cold pizza.

15. Follow SJ outside to put clean shoes on him.

So what is dinner like at your house?

A Meandering Story

It's another meandering story - the kind I excel at.

When I was young and stupid, I thought joining the military would be a great idea. If I were decent at wordlessly taking orders, it might have been.

As it was, it did not suit me.

I joined the Army National Guard. So, after basic training, I was down to one weekend a month. It wouldn't have been too bad if the SGT in charge of me would have trained me to do my job.

He wouldn't. He, in fact, despised me and made my life hell.

Don Smith, if you are still out there, you are a worthless piece of dung beetle food!

Anyway, I managed to procure a military i.d. that showed my age as 21, although I was only nineteen. That way I could go out with friends.

Don suspected that I had the i.d. but couldn't prove it. It drove him crazy! Heh heh

One night I went out to a bar with friends and got blistering drunk. In fact, I had to walk out of the bar, because I had to ferociously expel the contents of my stomach.

I was so drunk, I couldn't find my friend's car. Some guy helped me to it. I then proceeded to hurl all over the place.

When I was done, I asked him, "So do you want my phone number?"

Amazingly, he passed. I can't imagine why.

Y'all have a great weekend.

Blogged Out?

Like Babelbabe this week, I have blogger's block. Argh. Me without an opinion or something to say! Does anyone see pink pigs flying?

I hope this is temporary
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Yesterday I was eating carrots and I sneezed. Did you know that it was possible to sneeze masticated bits of food out of your nose? Now you do.
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From the paper - "Stressed Miami drivers speed, tailgate and cut off other drivers so frequently that the city earned the title of worst road rage in a survey released Tuesday."

What do you want to bet that the people who were surveyed were all the snowbirds who putter along ten miles below the speed limit?
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There was also an incident about a shaken baby in the paper. I won't go into details because this kind of stuff sickens me.

It's a baby. Put them in a room for time out. Walk off.

I will never understand how someone could shake their baby.

Shaken teen syndrome - that I could understand. Because that, I want to do several times a day.
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My little guy may be participating in a U.C. Davis sleep study. It depends on if he will wear a small device around his ankle that looks like a watch.

I'm betting he won't go for it.

Autism Clay Update

I will post this on both blogs.

First I have to confess that we have not been diligent lately on the gfcf diet. My son seemed oblivious at first to the fact that his food was different than the other kids.

Now he is getting more aware of these things and it is getting harder to divert his attention with a "safe" food.

I haven't noticed a huge difference in behavior. We have had a bit more of the arm flapping but that is it.

Yesterday in the pediatrician's office, he pointed out a painted butterfly on the wall. He used a four word sentence to do it. For him, that's big.

Now to the main topic. I ordered the clay that is supposed to clean environmental toxins out of the body.

It came with a packet to mix in it. You use a whisk to mix the ingredients. You're supposed to wear a face mask so you don't breathe in clay.

I mixed it outside with my shirt over my mouth.

The clay sounds like it gets really gunky in the tub. I didn't want to pay four extra bucks per bath for the special clay cleaning agent.

Since my son is small, I mixed a third cup of clay in one of those round galvanized metal tubs. He had to stay in four minutes.

Then I rinsed him off in the shower.

My husband and I weren't sure if there was a difference.

He was super calm after the bath but any bath can do that, I think.

Today he said, "I play outside." Again, this is a big sentence for him. But yesterday he was using big sentences.

In conclusion, I just don't know if it has helped yet. We will continue to give him the baths. I think he gets one every two weeks.

I will keep everybody updated.

Hand Over the Keys and the Credit Card and Get the Hell Out Of The Way!

My teen daughter got her driver's permit last Friday. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

It WILL be nice in six months, when I don't have to drive her to and from school. She can transport herself, thank you very much.

That will free up forty to forty-five minutes of my day that one of the other kids will be glad to fill with something else that I don't feel like doing.
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This from the paper - Betty Crocker is ending their catalog so redeem your points now. Yet another company quits awarding customer loyalty. What a shock.
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Speaking of shock, three dollars and twenty-six cents a gallon for gas is making me hyperventilate. I hope when President Dousche dies, and goes to the hell he so richly deserves, he is doused every half hour with gasoline. Then he can burn just a bit hotter than everyone else.
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I was reading a book and lost it. The title? "Out of Reach."
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I purchased a woman's magazine and they mentioned some new sneakers. These new sneakers help make your legs work like you are walking in sand.

You can lose inches off your thighs.

The price? Only about two-hundred fifty bucks. Heck, I'll take three pairs. My family can skip eating for a few weeks, right?

You Know You're A Redneck When...

I had a fun time observing the dogs Friday. Mandy is out of "receptive" mode, at least I think so.

She and Boots went in the back yard together. He kept sniffing her and trying to "assume the position." She kept running off leaving him in a state of perpetual frustration.

And I laughed. It takes pitifully little to entertain me.

I hope the joke isn't on me in two months when a litter of unplanned puppies springs forth.
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My prescription nasal spray is called Astelin.

The doctor gave me a sample and told me to use it twice a day.

I didn't read the package insert. Yeah, I'm brilliant I know.

I sniffed the stuff up my nose hardily. It felt like an ice pick was stabbing me in the eye.

Then I read the instructions. You are supposed to tip your head forward and sniff GENTLY.

Sometimes I still forget and do the Hoover sniff. Argh, my eyes!
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My daughter's body and mine have aligned so that we both start "that time" of the month on the same day.

This results in two weeks out of the month where we are the doublebitch twins.

I told her we are aligned, like the planets. Then I said -

"I'll be Jupiter. You can be Uranus."

Then I cackled hysterically while she wore her long suffering look.

I had an astronomy teacher in college who pronounced the name of this planet "Yer-uh-nus."

That's because he didn't want morons like me snickering in the back row.
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Joke had a quiz on his blog that determined your brand of humor.

Would anyone be surprised that I received idiot savant?

Happy Mother's Day

It is too early to be poetic or clever. In fact I am feeling a bit hungover.

That is an official sign that I'm a Mom - the constant hangover without the party.

Happy Mother's Day to the rest of you hungover broads out there. :)

Too Cool For School

My teen daughter takes a packed lunch to school, partly because school lunches add up quickly cost-wise and partly so she doesn't have to wait in line to buy lunch.

No matter what her lunch is, it has to be in a brown paper sack. I have tried to get her to use a small insulated bag, to no avail.

So what if the sandwich has mayonaisse on it and it is a hundred degrees out? She will not use the insulated bag.

I asked her why she wouldn't use the insulated bag this morning.

She told me because only dorks use those to put their lunch in.

Yes, food poisoning is much cooler. Nothing at school screams cool louder than duck walking to the bathroom with your butt cheeks clenched.
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We had Boots, our male Boston. We thought we might like to breed Bostons since they are such great dogs.

We purchased Mandy (from the planet Stupid) from the same breeder.

Mandy is currently in heat. I thought she went in heat last month but that was maybe a pre-heat, kind of like an oven.

Anyway, I had no experience with dogs in heat. Ugh!

My friend told me to put a maxi-pad on the dog. Who's in charge, me or the dog, if I'm changing a pad? Besides, EEEEEEEEWWWWW!

She isn't old enough to breed yet. Because she is so gross, we are keeping her in the front bathroom. That is a problem because she doesn't get enough attention.

Even if I were to put a doggy diaper on her and she came out of the bathroom, what is to stop Boots from playing his Barry White CD's and attempting to "romance" her?

I think maybe we will be getting her spayed. I'm not up for this.
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Tracfone sent me an e-mail that said, "Did you know there's a GENIE in your pocket?"

Ooh, is he happy to see me?

Bit of This N That

I was too busy to blog yesterday and had all sorts of things to say.

Can I remember them today? Of course not.

I had forgotten to mention the highlight of the Saturday taekwondo tournament. There was a lady who appeared to be in her 30's. She was very well put-together. Her butt-hugging pants made it obvious she took care of herself. Her hair and make-up were both perfect.

She glared at me a few times. She was well within her rights, as I had not coiffed my eyebrows that morning.

She kept walking back and forth instead of say, sitting down and watching the tournament.

I was expecting to hear Drop Dead Fred start playing "I'm Too Sexy" at any moment.

My daughter and I had to park about what felt like a mile away from the tournament. There was a community yard sale across the street and a baseball game going on so the good parking was non-existent.

My daughter wanted to race to the gym. We had to hurry but I didn't want to run.

Since my oldest daughter has pointed out how much my chest bounces up and down when I run, I've become self-conscious about it.

Since I wasn't wearing a sports bra, duct tape and some Glad Press N Seal, I didn't want to make a spectacle of myself.

Ironically my oldest daughter has noticed that her boobs DO THE SAME THING. Mwahahahahaha. What comes around goes around.
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After the tournament, my youngest daughter and I went to lunch. I showed her how to put the napkin on her lap. Shouldn't women tuck the napkin in their neck like a redneck at a barbeque?

When we drop food, it hits our boobs on the way down, never making it to our lap. Hell, just give me a bib.
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Big Lots had some Revlon highlighting stuff to make your face glow. For four dollars, I thought it was worth a shot.

The directions said use it under or over your foundation. Being the brain surgeon I am, I decided to try it by itself.

I'm not sure if I looked more like a mime or Michael Jackson.

Now using it over my foundation gives me a youthful glow. At least that's what I keep trying to tell myself.

Beware the Soy Milk

Last night before I went to bed, I drank a glass of soy milk.

I woke up an hour later coughing and walked out to the couch. My left eye felt funny. I looked in the mirror and it was swelling up.

My airway was closing. I couldn't get enough air.

My husband set up the nebulizer and I felt much better afterwards EXCEPT the eye. It felt stuck shut AND it looked exactly like the eye on Disney's version of Quasimodo.

When my older daughter woke up, she told me her throat was very sore. I told her I could trump that and related my tale.

"Look at my eye," I said.

"You look like Quasimodo, " she blurted.

Now the eye is less swollen. I look a bit like a Picasso painting, but not too bad.

Good-bye soy and tofu. I will miss you.
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I will try to post more later today but my schedule has been crazy. :)

Getting What You Pay For

In a moment of Lunacy, I purchased a seventeen dollar Phillips Keychain Digital Camera.

Without further ado...

I present...

My neighborhood viewed through the eyes of Mr. Magoo.

I Caught The Ugly

Since my son decided to get up at four-twenty this morning, and there are no signs I will get to return to bed, I believe I'll do a Sunday post.

I do not yet feel coherent and I am ranting, so be afraid - be very afraid of blog-induced boredom.

Who was the dumbass who said children keep you young?

Huh?

I never get enough sleep. I am constantly trying to tame their messes or feed them or dress them or drive them somewhere or...

I'm not feeling the young here!

The next person who says children keep you young can watch my hoodlums for a week. When they come back gasping for air with a permanent tic in the left side of their face, maybe they will change their tune.
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Yesterday daughter #2 had a taekwondo tournament. This was the first one. We weren't quite sure what to do.

With help, we figured it out. It was even more boring than I had hoped.

My daughter informed me, as I was tying her belt at home, that my breath was BAD.

Oh great. I brushed my teeth for the second time and we left.

I had to re-tie her belt when we got there only to hear, "Mom your breath still stinks really bad."

Oh yay. It's not a hygeine issue. While my hair and make-up could stand to be pampered more, I am meticulous about hygiene. We've all met somebody who smells really bad and is completely unaware of it. I don't want to be that person.

I put some gum in my mouth but without high hopes as this was an allergy issue. They have been plaguing me for over a month now. My nose has been swollen shut, my eyes have been bloodshot, I'm tired.

The next place we move isn't going to have any damn oak trees. Citrus is out too. My husband is allergic to orange blossoms.

Boy am I rambling today. It's going to get worse.

Does anyone watch Sponge Bob? Does anyone remember the episode where he got bad breath? I'm going to summarize it in parentheses. For those of you who have seen it, you can skip that part. For those of you who are already yawning in boredom, you may want to skip the whole post. :)

(Sponge Bob is a sponge who lives under the sea. His best friend is Patrick the Starfish who has no nose. In this particular episode, SpongeBob made a really nasty breakfast. It gave him death breath.

The breath was illustrated as a green fog coming out his mouth. Everyone that smelled it looked like they had just been clubbed in the face with a poop sandwich and ran for their lives.

Sponge Bob didn't know why everyone kept running from him. He asked his friend Patrick (who can't smell due to no nose) why everyone kept running from him. Patrick told him it was because he was ugly.

Eventually, Sponge Bob shared his breakfast leftovers with Patrick. Then Patrick got the bad breath. Everyone started running from him. Patrick told Spongebob that he had caught his ugly.

This all sounds stupid but the show is hilarious.)

Anyway, I caught the ugly. I had to sit for two hours in the bleachers trying to breathe through my plugged up nose. I also had a cramp between my shoulder blades from sitting in the bleachers.

Breathing through my nose must not have worked, because no matter where I sat, the bleachers directly in front of me emptied.

But hey, I had a clear view of my child. Not all was lost.

My husband gets the pleasure of taking her to the next tournament.
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My son was watching Baby Songs today. These are the ones by Hap Palmer.

He sings about things like dressing yourself and giving up diapers.

In one song, there is a clown. The videos are cute except for this. Doesn't Hap Palmer know that clowns are terrifying? How could he not know?!

In the end of the song, the family drives away in their station wagon. The clown is in the hatch and he waves out the back.

Remember the Hitcher with C. Thomas Howell? Yeah, that's what I think of.

Anybody that hasn't seen it or needs their memory refreshed, let me know.

Why I Don't Do Politics

The news has been full of the illegal alien vs. U.S. conflict lately. There seems to be no solution that will satisfy everybody.

The U.S. offers jobs. Mexico doesn't. Of course people will do what they can to get here.

But there are also people waiting to get here legally. If people that have been here illegally are given amnesty, that pushes back the wait time for people that have been waiting years to get in.

So I can see both sides. And I believe I have the answer.

(Note: The following is tongue in cheek and not meant to offend anybody.)

Maybe Mexico has something to offer the U.S. - like land! I know California real estate is in enough demand that it is outrageously priced.

Maybe we could merge with Mexico!

It could become part of the U.S.

We could rename it "Old Mexico" or "Mexicus" or "New California."

Before we fix it up, people could rush in and buy some cheap real estate, maybe on the beach!

Vicente Fox wouldn't relish giving up the title of president, so he could become the governor of Mexicus.

We're the U.S. We know what's right for everybody. There are many ways we could "fix" Mexicus.

Deforestation is a big problem in Mexico. Julia "Butterfly" Hill and her ilk could go live in the trees to prevent them from being cut down. Some more environmentalists could plant new trees while the others protect the old ones.

We would have to fix the sewer/water problems. All the Americans that say, "The Mexicans took my job," would be in charge of this. It would behoove us to fix the sewer system. When poop from Mexico flows into the ocean, I'm pretty sure it doesn't stop at the California border.

Developers could build "quaint" villages with adobe style houses. CCR's would be strictly enforced so that houses could only be painted pink, green or orange. The villages would also be gated communities with their owns schools nearby so the rich people could get the "feel" for Mexicus without ever leaving home. The taxes they would pay would help pump up the economy.

People who have moved to Mexicus could learn to slow the pace of their lives and embrace the siesta. The government would do studies and conclude that the heart attack rates are lower in Mexicus.

Retirees would flood the state. The streets in Florida would become safer to drive.

Prisoners jailed in Mexico would gain the right to sue if their sandwich wasn't cut in perfect triangles.

All legal documents for the state would be printed in English and Spanish just like it is currently done in California.

Native people from Mexicus would read "help wanted" ads in the paper. As they read through each job offering they would say, (in Spanish) "I can do that and that and that. When they got to the last line of each ad and read "bilingual required", they would exclaim, "Oh shit" in Spanish.

Smog check programs would be put in place to cut down on the air pollution. The demand for mechanics would explode.

The minutemen wouldn't be out of a job. They could patrol the southern border of Mexicus to make sure none of those blasted Guatamalans are sneaking in.

What a perfect solution to all our problems. Now if President Bush would quit marking my letters "Return to Sender."

Can't Be Fixed

I am not prone to road rage, well not the kind where I do anything besides scream impotently in my car. But last week I had an incident that reminded me why I only scream in my car.

I was merging onto the freeway and the ass in the right lane sped up, basically making it so he would be in the same spot I was going to be in when I merged.

So I had to slow down and merge a good ten to fifteen miles slower than I would have. (Damn I wish I had a car with some cajones to blow peckerheads like that away.)

The left lane was empty and I was late so I swung into it. Mr. Ass immediately moved into the left lane and cut me off. But he put on his signal while he did it which apparently rendered it okay in his mind.

I call that the "Oh by the way" signal.

Now I was really freaking pissed. So I started tailgating him, not right on his ass but close enough to be rude.

He moved to the right lane for his exit. I had my middle finger locked and loaded.

As I moved next to him and looked over, my mind said, "UH OH."

But my hand, of its own volition, continued to rotate one-hundred eighty degrees with my finger pointing north.

Holy Moley, I had just flipped off Magilla Gorilla.

He had arms that looked like he benchpressed elephants for fun. They were covered with lots and lots of neanderthal-style hair.

He was glaring out his window at me like, "What's your problem, lady?"

Gulp.

Thankfully, he exited. I continued on while my heart slid from my throat back into my chest.

I'm not sure what in hell possessed me to drive that way, but I won't be doing it again, really.

The one bright spot of the whole thing was that I shook it off. But I think he was the type to be pissed about it ALL DAY LONG. Heh heh.
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Another thing happened last week worth sharing. (or not)

I had to take my daughter "A" to her taekwondo lessons.

The parking lot was full so we had to park about six cars down on the side street.

As I was walking her to class, I noticed a little girl in a van. The windows were down and she was hanging out the driver's side window talking to whoever would listen. I didn't see an adult in the van.

I walked my daughter to class and came back. The girl was still hanging out the window. She asked me my son's name. I told her his name and I asked hers.

"My name is "A", she replied.

"That's just like my daughter's name," I said. "I love that name. It's very pretty."

She beamed. She was a beautiful little girl, probably about four years old.

I decided to buckle up in the van and wait to see if her parents came back soon. If it was more than five minutes, I was calling the police.

As I started to get in my van, her mother came back, and get this.

SHE SCOLDED HER!

Why did she scold her? It was because she hadn't stayed hidden in the van.

Everybody knows it's perfectly okay to leave your small child unattended in the car as long as you tell them to stay hidden!

The motto of this story (stolen off a bumper sticker): You can't fix stupid.

Maybe that should be the motto to the first story too!

Cavemen Had It Easy

Can you imagine being a cave woman? I don't really want to myself. :)

But she did have one advantage. She didn't get out of bed and wonder what she was going to wear that day. She probably already had it on!

There was no wondering if colors matched or what styles went together or if one should wear white shoes after Labor Day. Shoes, what shoes?

Cavewomen never had conversations that went like this.

"Poor Louise, Mammoth fur does not suit her. She needs something more flattering like leopard."

"I have to agree. All those extra layers make her look fat, and the color brown washes her out."

Back to the present - my oldest daughter had one of those blasted open houses last Thursday at school and I had nothing to wear.

A pair of capri pants and a t-shirt would have been fine, if anything fit. I was bulldozing through my closet, trying stuff on, throwing it aside and getting worked into a tizzy. Not only are my clothes ugly, they don't fit. If it did fit, it was dirty or missing in the monstrous "needs to be folded and put away" pile.

Finally I settled on jeans and a t-shirt. The fat rolls were contained but certainly not hidden.

We went to the open house. It was nothing like the elementary school open houses where there are many shining examples of your child's work displayed. I guess, with 3000 students, it can't be.

I love my daughter and want to know what she is doing in school, but it was a huge waste of time. She can show me more at home and without the crowds of obnoxious people standing in the way.

The next day I decided to go shopping for a few things since summer weather is here.

Everybody seems to brag about TJ Maxx. I haven't been impressed yet but I decided to try again.

They had some okay-looking skirts hanging up in the size fourteen section. The waists looked HUGE so I thought they probably ran big. I grabbed those and some capri pants in size 16 and went in the dressing room.

Well the skirts did not fit. They barely went over my hips. One pair of the pants fit but not well, certainly not well enough to buy.

I spotted a Dexatrim that someone else had dropped on the dressing room floor along with their self-esteem and I hightailed it out of there.

Across the street to Kmart I drove. We needed paper towels and household goods anyway and if I found something to fit, it would be an unexpected bonus.

I found some things to try on and went in the dressing room. I found two pairs of capris that fit like they were made for me. This means they fit my waist, my belly and my flat butt. Woo-hoo. I tried them on in two different colors.

(The reason I tried on both pairs was because I have grabbed identical pants/tops in different colors before and only tried on one of each. Then when I put them on later, the ones in a different color didn't fit the same. Grrrrrr.)

I grabbed the capri pants (ten dollars), a camp shirt (eight dollars), a tank top (five dollars) and some comfortable tennis shoes (fifteen dollars). I also found an adorable pair of sandals for daughter number two.

Yes, I know they're cheap clothes. But my children use me as a napkin and I would rather stain cheap clothes than expensive ones.

I jubilantly arrived home with my purchases and picked up the kids from school.

The next day, I wore the tan khakis. It turns out they are made of that material that starts drooping after you've had them on half an hour. So they are comfortable, but they are SAGGING off my invisi-butt! I look like those little old ladies we all see in public whose asses appear to have slid off the face of the earth. Sigh.

I so give up.