Like A Monkey Doin' A Math Problem

I Didn't Know Whether to Cry, Dance, or Pee My Pants...

2011-10-07T15:13:00.000-07:00

This is a big day. Huge. I know I should be able to express myself more articulately considering how long I have been waiting for this day to come, but words are failing me.

"EEEEEEEEEHAAAAAWWWW!"

Well, that comes closer. See, after four years, several interviews, and several also-rans-we're-so-sorry-you're-very-qualified-and-we-really-like-yous....I HAVE BEEN OFFERED A JOB!

For now, it is a substitute job. The union requires that it be posted and other prospects be interviewed. But in the meantime, I will be the sub second grade teacher, working with the current teacher until an overflow classroom is ready. We will be a team, planning and sharing the load, figuring out what educational practices are best for 33 little ones, until the afternoon I take my group off to "our" room to do some learning magic of our own. The principal says more than likely it will remain my job after the interviews are done, and I am trying to keep that in mind. but for right now I am so excited I can only think one thing.

"EEEEEEEEEHAAAAWWWWWW!"

Yeah, that'll do for now...

Who Does Shaun's Hair, Anyway?

2010-02-18T08:47:00.001-08:00

There is no "aha" moment for a woman that lets her know she needs a trip to the hairdresser like turning on the Today show and realizing she resembles the Flying Tomato.

Sadly, HIS hair looks even BETTER than mine...

Random Tuesday Thoughts: It's Free...Must Be Really Good!

2010-02-16T11:53:00.000-08:00

Gol, it's been a long time since I let the hamster spin the wheel on Random Tuesday. It must be because my thoughts have been so well organized and logical lately.

Actually, no. If you could have opened my head and looked deep into my brain over the last few months it would have looked like one of those "FREE" boxes at a yard sale where people throw used McDonald's toys, single earrings and the lids from Rubbermaid containers they've lost the containers to. Winter is hard for me. But I'm finally seeing some sun in the days, and the cobwebs are clearing away, and there might actually be some profound funny sh*t hiding at the bottom of the box. Let's dig....

We were sitting in the living room last week watching the kids play Raving Rabbids on the Wii when there was a weird splattering sort of crash. A search through the house turned up nothing on the floor that might have fallen, then I looked up at the dining room window. Holy Crap, I said, the window's broken! It appeared to have been shot at, or perhaps hit by a low-flying bat. But it was a double-pane broken from the inside. S.P. searched Google and found a phenomenon known as "Spontaneous Glass Breakage", where the glass goes kapow for no visible reason. It was freaky.

I have come to the conclusion that in the parenting contract there should be a provision for using a cattle prod to make your child move faster when all other methods (asking, begging, pleading, cajoling, threatening, yelling till the veins stick out in your eyeballs) have not worked. And it should be a free pass kind of thing. No call to CPS, no visit from the police. Telling the child "We're going to be LATE!" does not work. My mom told me I should refuse to take said child to the event late anymore, but say "if you can't be there on time you can't go." This is the woman who used to think the grandchildren walked on water. Nice to see she's on MY side for a change. Nyah, nyah, kids...Gramma likes me best again...

I have been spending some time on Facebook, which is kind of nice as I can keep in touch with classmates from high school who I am kind of interested in, but not so much that I actually want to spend money calling them on the phone or letting them know exactly where my house is. Plus it's kind of a cool place for me and all my mommy-friends to post notes about how cool we think each others' kids are, and make plans for sleepovers and stuff. But I have to be careful what I say on Facebook, because there are times I've almost posted something terribly witty and then thought "well, could the be-friending network possibly let this get back to the person I am saying it about??" It's not like here in the blogosphere, where I have a secret alter ego and no one knows me except for Green Jello....

For example:
Friend: I'm engaged and there's so much to do! Where do I start?
Me: Stick some duct tape on your future mother-in-law's mouth!
Now, Friend would laugh and so would most everyone who read it. But somehow, somewhere, Six Degrees of Separation away, my mother in law would find out and bitch-slap me over the phone.

Facebook also has some cool fun applications to while away your spare time. I accepted an invitation to become someone's neighbor in Farmville. Now, I think Farmville is harmless fun. Some folks like to spend cold hard currency in Farmville, which I would not do as a day of guest teaching really makes a gal value a buck. But, different strokes. I can go to Farmville and have ten horses that don't poop. What a deal. But the new group that has been popping up lately, that many of my friends have been becoming fans of, is "I Don't Care About Your Farm, Your Fish, Your Park, or Your Mafia!" Apparently they don't get excited when I have Mystery Eggs to give away, or that I adopted a lost baby sheep. What many of them don't know is that I secretly go to their photo albums and draw mustaches on all their family photos when they aren't looking...

As many small towns do, our town has an annual celebration to honor the founding of something-or-other. Here it's Loyalty Day. There's a banquet, Blessing of the Fleet, a kiddie parade, and a big parade complete with Coast Guard flyover and the Shriner's Clowns. We also elect a Loyalty Day court and Jr. Miss Loyalty court. At the school last week the Jr. Miss reps came to speak to the 5th grade girls about competing. Pony Girl is curious about it as several of her friends at the barn have competed over the last two years. At dinner last night she asked if she could try out next year, and what she would have to do. Well, we told her, there would be a community service project, an essay to write, and a banquet where she would have to meet community leaders and demonstrate her social skills. "How?", she asked. Oh, you make gracious conversation about the things you've learned in your community service, and you introduce yourself to lots of different people. "Well, what would I tell them about myself?" Your name, things you like to do, your family, we said. This was her practice speech.
"Hi, I'm Pony Girl. I like to read books, work with my horse Casper and fart on the couch with my dad."
Gracious social conversation, check....bring on that crown.

Well, just like at the yard sale, sometimes you find a jewel among crap. Hopefully there was something here to add twinkle to your day!

Why I Love Winter Windstorms...by Mrs. C.

2010-02-11T09:13:00.000-08:00

I found a heart-shaped horse apple on my poop fork today.

It fell off into the poop lagoon before I could lay it aside to photograph for Wordless Wednesday.

Well, it was the wind that BLEW it off the poop fork. And it sank and melted.

And then the wind blew the pasture gate open and the horse got out.

I pulled my glove off with my teeth so I could catch him easier before stopping to think about all my glove had just been touching.

Having no rope, I took off my freshly washed coat to loop round his neck and lead him back to the pasture.

Then I noticed he'd been rolling in poop.

If that groundhog sees his shadow again next year I am going to Gobbler's Knob to make a Groundhog Pot Pie...

Wordless Wednesday: Foul-Mouthed? #&$@% You!

2010-01-20T11:42:00.000-08:00

Why We Love Our Small Town Car Repair Shop...

2010-01-15T08:35:00.000-08:00

(invoice for service we had done on the truck last week)

PAID IN FULL

There is a lifetime Lube on your truck, we sold you the tires, so the flat repair and rotate and balance were no charge and the light bulb was because

a) you are such a great guy
b) I am such a great guy
c) it was not worth doing the paper work to charge you

Wordless Wednesday: My, What Big Ears You Have..

2010-01-06T13:23:00.000-08:00

Why There Are No Balls On Our Christmas Tree This Year...

2009-12-14T10:17:00.000-08:00

Wordless Wednesday: Holiday Horror

2009-12-08T19:32:00.001-08:00

I Don't Think He Wants The Usual Crap For Christmas...

2009-12-02T09:50:00.000-08:00

Hey, it's been a long time since I was here, with many good reasons (excuses) too numerous to list. The most important being that I need to whip the relationship demon. Things had gotten to the point where I was thinking my new profile photo just might be labeled Ms. C and you would see a photo of my fabulous lawyer instead of happy snaps from our last (very last ever) anniversary trip.

But we are both stubborn to the point where we would rather fight for our marriage than give up, and we love each other more than we love to be right and win the stupid argument that started the whole problem in the first place, so it looks like things may be happily ever after. For me, the turning point came when I stopped asking God to change my husband, and asked Him to show ME what I needed to do. And then when I got impatient because it didn't work RIGHT THAT MINUTE, I asked that He guide my way. I guess when the prayer hasn't worked for three years maybe you're just not asking for the right thing...

But, since you all come here for good silly crap instead of soap operas, a funny video. I got a Youtube video link from my fella yesterday for a song called "Stop Giving Me Crap For Christmas". I am not tricky enough to get a link to it in my post, but I know most of you are much more technologically advanced. I'm not sure but it may be some sort of gift-giving hint.

Now, I don't want to be known as the wife who gives crap for Christmas so am looking for a new idea. I would like to give dear husband a calendar for his workshop, the kind you can buy at tacky mall kiosks that feature scantily clad women. However, the catch is that I want the pictures to be of me, his fabulous wife. I am not nearly tricky enough to take self-portraits, and there is no one in town to take them. And even if there was I would not do such a thing in Gossip Central, USA. The Presbyterian Women's Association just voted me president for next year, for goodness' sake. They'd probably expire en mass, right there at the potluck table. And the closest place I might find a photo studio to do it is at least 3 hours away. So I'm wondering if maybe I should make up a little note that says "redeemable for one pin-up calendar" and put in in an envelope, and let S.P. take the photos? Then we could make the calendar at home on the computer. Is that a lame gift idea?

Well, as you know I trust your opinions and you will never gossip about me. Enjoy your Christmas preparations, and if you have any good cookie recipes pass them on, for sure!

RTT: Poop, Pot, and Procreation

2009-11-17T15:20:00.000-08:00

Some days I'm witty, some days just good looking. This may or may not be one of those days. The wind is blowing about 100 miles an hour and it's raining for the ninth day in a row. I feel like Mrs. Friggin' Noah but there's no room in the ark for my massive frizzy afro.

Every time I get up to go scoop horse poop it rains harder. I figure if I just wait long enough it'll all get pounded down into the dirt, or dissolve into the dozens of puddles forming in the pasture. Either way, I win.

There are so many pairs of tall black boots piled by the door it looks like we're hosting a dominatrix convention. And yes, there's even a whip in my coat pocket. We're boarding a new horse that doesn't understand the concept of "respect the people's space".

We have a new kitten in the house, cute little thing called Alfred. Kids love him, Lilly loves him, even S.P. (normally not a cat person) loves him. There's even a note on his cage that says "Everybody Loves ALFRED!" If he is so well-loved by everyone, why am I the only one basking in the pleasure of cleaning his blessed LITTER BOX? In the RAIN, no less!? (Side note: ever tried cleaning a litter box full of clumping litter in a downpour? See "futility" in the dictionary...)

The kids brought home conference notes a few weeks ago, and their teachers like to get the slips returned quickly to see who needs to be rescheduled. Some offer incentives like free time or treats. The new policy this year is not to reward kids with candy due to the obesity problem. Jones brought his slip home and after signing it I asked if he would get a prize for returning it the next day. "Yes, I think it's something (whisper) illegal." I just had to tell the teacher about that, and she confessed that she was rewarding them with a piece of her leftover trick-or-treat candy. I said "heck, I was hoping for a baggie of weed, at least!"

My friend e-mailed me asking for the name of the birds-and-bees book we used to tell the kids about the facts of life when they were first old enough to introduce the subject. I couldn't remember the exact name of the book so went to the library catalog to do a search. At the end of the long list of titles was the alliterative masterpiece "Where Willy Went". I thought somebody must be putting me on but sure enough there is a book by that name that explains reproduction to youngsters. Don't know if I'll recommend that one to my friend but it might be good for a laugh around here!

Well, I just heard someone say "Hey! What 's with that bright light!" and that means there's a sun break. I should just be able to get on my fabulous boots, pull out the wheelbarrow and get into the middle of the pasture before the rain starts again. Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to scoop I go..

Get the Thermometer, I Smell Bacon Again....

2009-11-03T20:24:00.000-08:00

Last week, had you asked me, I would have said that the most un-fun way to celebrate your birthday would be at your child's pee wee soccer banquet. At McDonald's.

Now I know there is something worse. Having the pig flu on your birthday and being too sick to party.

Happy Swine Flu to You, Pony Girl.

Sexy Vampire Hookers Do NOT Say "Oink"...

2009-10-27T17:34:00.000-07:00

Hey, we made it through the Pig Plague, at least as far as the Health Care Professional in residence can tell. A little fever here, fatigue there, and let's just leave out the (whisper) diarrhea.

But now we're gearing up for Halloween. I love Halloween. Buckets of candy corn, handfuls of mini candy bars to steal from the kids, and the excuse to run around in a trampy costume, all in the name of good fun. (However, the attempts to squeeze into the trampy costume are often undone by the wanton comsumption of candy. Funny how the truly important parts of the holiday do NOT go hand in hand.)

Halloween Week is always especially busy around here because Pony Girl's birthday is just a few days later, with treats to be made for the classroom, birthday dessert for the family, and a party to plan. This year five desperate-to-be-young-women are coming over to giggle away at a pajama party. Not quite a sleepover as they will all be going home about 9, but there will be a PJ fashion show, Spin the Nail Polish Bottle, the Commercial Game, plus pizza making and other fabulous food indulgences. With this party we move from little-kid parties where I could use up the leftover Halloween candy in the pinata to Tween-Land. I'm not sure what this age will bring. Hopefully it's not too bumpy a ride. Halloween is scary enough!

Anyway, it's good to be back from the dead. I was having trouble figuring out how to come up with a way to make a zombie costume look adequately trampy for my favorite fall holiday.

Will The Flatiron Work On This Curly Tail?

2009-10-22T10:02:00.001-07:00

I have one kid back to school, one still on the couch with normal temp but wicked sore throat, and a massive giant sitting on my lap. Everything I got aches or is so weary I can't move it. Either I am just a big ol' slug or something bad is going on inside my decrepit body.

If I do not speak the word "flu", will it not come to pass? Excuse me while I go lie on the couch.

I am NOT sick, just resting.

And slosh some Lysol over your entire body as you leave. Don't forget to gargle.

Wait, What Happened to September?

2009-10-20T16:44:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been over a month since I was here. If I had scores of followers they would probably be SO disappointed. As it is my few faithful pals over on the left probably don't even come by anymore due to my high level of suck-ness.

But for a while I was busy. After we came back from the big fun anniversary trip (which reminds me, I have some pictures to post BESIDES the one of the Beaver Wash..) I jumped in to get ready for Camp Victory. That's a camp for girls who are survivors of sexual abuse. We bring these girls, ages five to 17, together for three days of fun at a camp where, as one of them put it, "everything is safe. This is the only safe thing I can count on in my life." It's just like any other camp, with singing, crafts, campfires, silly games, and piles of great food, except that all the girls there have been abused. We give them a safe place to be and get some of their childhood back.

So we had a big training in September, then camp three weeks later, with a lot of work in between. I worked in the office this year to help with paperwork, planning, and untangling last-minute messes, then was a cabin buddy with the youngest group of campers. Lots of action there. Littles never walk when they can run, and they run EVERYWHERE.

Then when camp was over I planned to get back into visiting you all here more regularly, but found myself in a rather serious issue with my sweetheart. One that I was not entirely sure would end up with us looking toward any more anniversaries unless some serious talking was done and understandings reached. It's funny how one person can see something as a small deal and the other person see it as deeply hurtful. And how much not talking about it thoroughly enough the first time can leave a scar that's just waiting to tear open again and do even more damage. I think, though, we understand each other's feelings much better now and can move forward. Even after 15 years this marriage thing can jump up with surprises.

So now today I can finally sit down and say hi again. Lots of free time considering both kids were home sick and are now resting on the couch. I won't make the oink noise, but one of Jones' classmates was in the ER with 105 fever and was given antivirals, and two other kids from their school are also getting the drugs. We are hoping for just plain sick. I'd even take some good old-fashioned barfing flu, if it wasn't swiny in nature...

Hey, come see me again soon. And wear your government-approved antiviral mask!

Wordless Wednesday: I Bet It's Service With A Smile, Too..

2009-09-16T07:31:00.001-07:00

Wordless Wednesday

2009-09-09T09:25:00.001-07:00

As Seen on T.V.

2009-09-04T08:16:00.000-07:00

Only a couple of brief things today, as we are getting ready to make the run to Home Depot and Costco before masses of tourists arrrive for the Labor Day weekend and we can't even get out the driveway.

On the news last night there was a disturbing story about a person who followed a family around a department store, repeatedly rubbing himself against the woman's six-year-old daughter. The woman was shopping for shoes at one point, not even six feet from her child, when the man moved between the two and rubbed against the child. To the casual glance it might have just appeared to be someone maneuvering in a crowded shoe department. On the security video it was clearly a lot more. And apparently he had been in the store for some time doing the same sort of thing. His boldness infuriated and frightened me. I also remembered times I had been a bit more than arm's length away from my kids thinking they were perfectly safe because I could see them.

We watched the college football opener, Oregon against Boise State. Being OSU Beaver fans it was more for the fact that football was on than anything. At the end of the game one of the Oregon players punched a Boise player in the face. It was so unsportsmanlike, and now it's all over the news and online message boards. Why it happened, excuses being made for the puncher and the punchee, what action should be taken, and all I can think every time I see the footage (which is about every five minutes on this morning's news...) is two kids in the schoolyard jawing at each other.

"If you don't shut your mouth I'll shut it for you!"

"OH YEAH?!"

"YEAH! *kapow*"

Except these little big boys have forgotten this is, after all, still just a game.

And finally the new Jack in the Box commercial, which is advertising an instant-win kind of game. It's called something like the Big Rip-Off, and the ad shows Jack walking down the street and people are ripping off their clothes and throwing them at him. Made me laugh my ass off last night. After that news story, I needed it....

Happy Labor Day!

RTT: ABC, 123, PB&J...

2009-09-01T11:20:00.000-07:00

Hey, hey, hey! As you can see from my alphabet soup, it must be the first day of school at the Monkey House. And as first days go, it started off pretty well. No whining about getting up early, no fussing about what was for breakfast, no nagging about getting ready on time. And the kids didn't do too bad either...

So now I'll hit you with some pearls of random wisdom, or at least some nuggets of random smart-assery, and go enjoy my day of FREEDOM!!

Pony Girl is supposed to be in charge of scooping horse poop during the summer, unless she is on a trip with her grandparents or sick, etc. She prefers to have her dad or I do it, or let it lie in the pasture as natural fertilizer. I went out one day last week when she had blown off her chore (again) and scooped up, and charged her ten cents a pile. That didn't bother her nearly as much as when she found out I had sub-contracted the wheelbarrow pushing part of the job to Jones and she would have to pay him a cool fifty cents.

Our fifteenth anniversary is coming up this month and we are going on a little trip. Where? No idea. S.P. has planned it, arranged it and is keeping it a secret. Which in this town means telling NO ONE until we get back. If he tells even one person I'd know about it within a week. It's driving his mom wiggy because she always likes to know all the details. He did tell me the mystery destination was within four hours of our house and there is a hot tub. All I have to do is pack and be ready to go. Sounds good to me!

My son thinks I'm Super Mom because I helped him create a new Lego bad guy out of some old mini-figure parts and a black sharpie. The new bad guy has an eye patch, a scar, and "wicked" zippers on his uniform. Had I known what my boy would value I would have majored in Legos instead of education...

While out shopping with the kids last week I saw a fabulous nightie for the abovementioned trip. Since there was a big sale it seemed like the perfect time to grab one, but of course I would have to try it on. Note to self: DO NOT attempt to try on nighties with children along! Jones wanted me to get the brown one because it was more sexier. Pony Girl said the black one definitely showed more boobs and would I save it for her to wear for her husband someday? OH GOOD GOLLY....the only thing more embarrassing than being IN the dressing room with them was coming out and seeing a man S.P. and I know waiting there for his wife. Having been LISTENING to the whole conversation while he was waiting. At least he didn't ask me if I was going to get the black one or the brown one.

At Keely's I saw a video for an, ahem, massager, that was modeled after a Twilight vampire. It made me think of an ad I had seen once for a kit where you can make a...massager that looks just like your favorite man's junk. When I had first seen the ad a year or so ago, my idea was to give the kit to S.P. as a romantic anniversary gift. But then, would that really be a gift for HIM or more of a gift for ME? Hmmm...

Well, somehow a post that started out relatively clean has wandered into smut again. Better go before the randomness gets raunchy....

Work In Progress....

2009-08-28T09:44:00.000-07:00

It's the big day, the day we are done with painting and mild swearing and are moving on to the finishing touch: WALLPAPER BORDER! And we remember well how to do it from the last time. Measure twice, cut once. And curse forty-seven times per foot. This afternoon, when all the furniture is in and before the kids come back and get a chance to mess up their rooms, I will post some before and after pictures.

(I did promise that about my kitchen/dining room remodel but it's always such a mess I can never get any "after" pictures...)

Update #1
I didn't realize that hanging wallpaper border caused Tourette's Syndrome. I've dropped so many F-bombs this morning my husband thinks I'm Vodka Mom. And we realized the first time we did these rooms six years ago it took three rolls of border, NOT two. Let's see if I can still get the borders or if they've been discontinued.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

Update #2
So far, so good. They have the borders in stock and can ship by Tuesday. We could, in theory, move the nicely painted furniture in from the shop and get their rooms arranged but it is now raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock. I think I need a beer to help this project along....

Update #3
Where the fric and frac did I put that bag of outlet covers last week? I took them off, taped the screws to each one, put them in a zip bag, and...lost the damn things. Must have been the paint fumes. Should have just left them in the middle of the floor. Then I'd know where they are...

Update #4
Found them in a box marked "school supplies, Lego magazines and stuff". Makes perfect sense. Kids got home from the fair and were SO excited to see the borders up, though they did ask if we MEANT to stop halfway down the wall. No kids, this is why we always measure the room before hitting the "place order now" button on the wallpaper website...

And it stopped raining long enough to get the furniture in, finally. However the rooms are not in apple-pie order, as Granny used to say, so I will take those fabulous photos tomorrow. Now, back to the beer!

The Last Circle of Hell

2009-08-20T20:49:00.000-07:00

Today I took my almost-ten-year-old daughter shopping for school clothes. I didn't want skirts that were too short, tops that were too tight, or anything that was too trampy. Plus, to suit her personal tastes, it couldn't be itchy, look weird, or ride up anywhere "too close" to the crotch. Hence the title of today's post. Waiter, bring me a margarita in a five-gallon bucket....

RTT: DIY PITA

2009-08-18T15:29:00.000-07:00

In honor of it being almost back to school time, I am jumping into the Random Tuesday Soup with some alphabet jazz. "DIY" refers to my home redecorating projects and is self-explanatory. And "PITA" is not all about bread, it describes aspects of the home projects that are chafing my butt.

So AWAYYYY we go!

When the bottle of wallpaper paste removal goo says "use in a well-ventilated area and wear a mask", they're not lyin'. Just because you can't smell anything right away does not mean the chemicals aren't potent enought to EAT YOUR BRAINS like a rabid zombie.

Taping up before painting is a pain. No matter how carefully I get the tape edge down it always leaks. Plus all the dust bunnies that cling to the tape show off what a rotten housekeeper I am.

Since Daddy is the one who does the actual painting he gets the best hugs and kisses and all the praise for how good the room looks. All I did was plan the re-do, look for wallpaper border, strip the old wallpaper, force the kids to go through piles of old junk they've hoarded so we can rearrange things, shop for new bedding and push to get the project underway.

It's amazing how much an old black hair elastic with some fuzz on it can look like an enormous black spider. Especially if you're vacuuming under the dresser and it's pulled toward you quickly by a long piece of hair. It's equally amazing how a simple mom with no musical talent can sound like a diva soprano in an opera when faced with what appears to be a huge spider zooming toward her feet...

Why is it that a kid can see the same toy in the corner of their room for six months, totally uninterested in it, but the minute I THINK of taking it to the consignment store it becomes their new favorite, can't-live-without-it, drop-dead-if-anything-happened-to-it possession? How do they KNOW?!

And last, but not least, how is it that people who have had six years to visit us and see how we're doing in our new place suddenly want to come NOW, when we have a big ol' tore-up mess from one end of the hall to the other and me looking like the dog's dinner all day long? And Lord help me it's some good-looking woman S.P. knows from high school, or college. Why couldn't she have showed up here when things were put together, before I cut off my hair and gained fifteen pounds? Oh Lord, forget my house...I need a remodel....

The 30-Day Plan

2009-08-15T08:49:00.001-07:00

Recently I've heard about some interesting 30-day plans to make my life better, or more fulfilling, or just more spicy. Everyone insists their idea will add depth to my otherwise shallow existence. But which one to choose?

Having discarded most of the 30-day exercise programs due to the laziness gene, I have three that are getting serious consideration:

Blog every day for 30 days. (Stretch your mind)

Cook something new every day for 30 days. (Stretch your cooking skills)

Have sex (somehow) every day for 30 days. (Stretch...no, ENHANCE your relationship)

Hmmm, they all sound good, and challenging to keep the faith for the full 30 days. How can I pick just one?

Got it! I'll take the best of all three. I'll cook in the nude every day, see what comes of it (stop snickering...) and blog about it! It'll be the best 30-day program ever.

And just imagine what Wordless Wednesdays will be like...

If There Is No Fishing In Heaven, Do I Really Want To Go?

2009-08-13T10:48:00.000-07:00

Today I got to go fishing with my mom. Now, I am a truly slothful person at heart and hate like the dickens to get up early in the morning, and the boat loads at 4:45 a.m. Even dragging myself upright at 6:30 to get the kids off to school can be a challenge, because sleeping is cool and getting up out of the bed sucks.

But the secret is that I will get up at any time, no matter how early, to go fishing. It's one of the best things ever, in life.

When we get to the port it's still dark, but there's a buzz of activity on all the boats as the deckhands prep bait and check gear. The seagulls are quiet this early; they know there's no point in getting excited till the boats start coming back in. Check in at the charter office, get a license, jaw a little with the lady at the desk who knows us by first name now. When we get down to the boat there's coffee, and people to visit with. Pretty soon it's time to get underway and the skipper gives a quick talk on how to get 'em in the boat.

By this time the sky's just starting to turn, but sunup is still at least an hour away. As we pull out, several other boats are leaving too and it's like a parade. Looking out over the stern I can see at least half a dozen sets of running lights fanned out and we pick up speed leaving the port. Look out salmon, here we come.

It's quite a trip out to the good fishing grounds, but there's plenty to see as we go. Here's the Coast Guard station, with lots of blue-clad men and women hurrying to Motor Lifeboat School. They wave as we go by and I can tell they'd love to cut class and come out with us for a few hours. Another boat comes up next to us and the skippers do a little racing to the next buoy. We motor past the lighthouse at Cape D and the water's getting a little choppy. Crossing the bar where the Columbia River meets the Pacific Ocean is sometimes smooth, sometimes torn with huge troughs and swells. Today's not bad and soon we're past the second lighthouse at North Head. We can hear the gentle "ding" of the buoys as we speed by, and huge flocks of brown pelicans seem to be racing us to the fish. Hey, look...three seals playing in the water! And the sunrise is just gorgeous today. Fishing is great but I like the getting-there part too.

Now the boat slows and it's time to grab a pole. Immediately a fish hits at the bow and the shout "Fish On!" rings all around the deck. Too bad, this one's not a keeper but we have plenty of time. Sometimes it's slow, with the wily fish slipping up long enough to steal your bait and leave just a smelt head on the hook. Skipper comes by and tells us "Now this isn't a petting zoo, folks..we're here to catch 'em not feed 'em." It's our first trip with this new skipper and he's good. Patient, funny and full of witticisms. After fixing one pole up he gets it back in water and says "All set now, next time one hits you'll be fartin' through silk." Must be a good thing.

And we fish, and fish, and fish some more. It's a fabulous day. Not too much chop, warm but not blistering hot, and I can see that Mom already has two fish. And a green face. I go to check her out and her scop patch is partly on her skin, partly in her hair. Ooh, no wonder she's feeling queasy. But boy, she's fishing like a champ. We fix the patch and I go back to my pole. Haven't caught one yet, but I've fed several fish. And I swear that every time I pull up an empty hook a fish jumps out of the water about ten feet away. I think he's giving me the bird, fish-style.

But finally, there's a good twitch, then a hard jerk and it's my turn. Get the pole set, reel, reel, reel, and here comes the net. It's a beauty, and the deckhand says the magic words "It's a keeper! Nice one!" Ahh, feels good.

But they're whipping our butts at the stern. The best fisherman today is a white-haired lady in yellow rain gear. She looks like the Gorton's fisherman and she's just haulin' those bad boys in. When she catches her fifth fish we can hear her joyful yell "This is my best fishing day EVER!" Mom tells me later she's been fishing for 40 years. She ends up with six fish; two for herself, two for her seasick granddaughter, and two for the boat. Salmon fear Mrs. Gorton...

With that we've limited and it's time to head in. As we turn toward the port and pick up speed the gulls start gathering. It's fish-cleaning time! The deckhand gets busy at the side, chucking all the insides overboard and as he does the gulls start shouting "MINE! MINE! MINE!" I nod off for a bit, but wake as we pass a chiming buoy. On top of it, bobbing in the wake from the boat, are three loud-barking seals. Lots of boats are coming in and it's only 8:30. What a day!

All too soon we're backing into our slip and the deckhand is passing out the fish. Another trip is over, and now we get to enjoy our catch. That's good. I like fish. But I LOVE fishing!

Wordless Wednesday

2009-08-12T08:29:00.001-07:00

RTT: Mom's On Vacation!

2009-08-11T11:40:00.000-07:00

Oh, it's a great day. The kids are off for a few days with their grandparents, I have cake left from Jones' birthday party (come tomorrow for a picture) and "America's Next Top Model" is on ALL DAY LONG!

Plus I can throw out whatever weird idea comes up and it's not disjointed, it's...RANDOM TUESDAY THOUGHTS. Brought to you by the management, endorsed by the UnMom, and 100% organic.

Go, hamster, go...

Jones got a Crime Scene Investigator kit for his birthday, complete with UV flashlight that makes body fluids fluoresce. So far we have discovered that our teeth are brilliant in the dark, our toilets are disgusting, and Jones needs to shake it off better before tucking it back in his shorts.

No matter how mature our relationship has become, I can still make my mother blush with any obscure reference to my sex life. We are planning a weekend trip for our 15th anniversary next month and asked if they would take the kids. She asked why we were going early and I said it would ruin our romantic plans to have "Mother Nature" along. Her face turned beet red and she stuttered like Mel Tillis. Guess there are some things you just don't bring up to your momma...

Adding braces to Pony Girl has really changed her look. From the neck up she looks a couple of years older, which causes a little consternation when we take her to the beach. Last time we were there she was sprawled on her towel, sunning her buns, and a couple 12/13-year-old boys were checking her out. When she got up to hit the water and they realized she was not as old as they thought the looks on their faces were hysterical!

It's time to redecorate the kids' rooms. Whe we first moved into the house six years ago we painted and decorated for 2- and 4-year-olds. For their respective birthdays they asked us for something more grown-up. Pony Girl is getting a horse theme, and Jones went for the hunting dogs with camouflage bedding. If I can tear myself away from Top Model my job today is to clear out their rooms and tape up the woodwork. Oh crap, I have to strip that wallpaper border out of Pony Girl's room too!

Byeee....

I Swear This Isn't About Sex Or Even Close to It...

2009-08-07T14:47:00.000-07:00

I love my small town, and with the exception of certain times of the year when we can't move for the number of tourists crowding in, it's a fabulous place to live and bring up kids.

One of the only shortcomings is the lack of shopping outlets. We do have a couple of grocery places, limited clothing, office supplies, and whatnot, but there's definitely no specialty shopping unless you're after smoked seafood or kites.

Something we've found ourselves in need of more and more frequently these days is horsey gear. There are two farm stores across the river that carry a bit of tack but not much, and so catalog shopping is a must when we need something really specialized. We found a great catalog recently that will ship any order for a flat rate of $7.95, so it's always a good idea to look carefully through for not only what we need now but what we might need next month and make the most of that shipping fee.

Today, as I was flipping pages, I came across some new goodies that made me wonder if the company had merged with some adult-products company. "Uncle Jimmy's Hangin' Balls" and "Uncle Jimmy's Squeezy Buns" right there for anyone to see. And in a family catalog! On closer review they were just horse treats, but it certainly made me squirt coffee out MY nose for a second...

And they've got hair extensions to make your horse's tail fat and sexy, and some spray-on stickum for your saddle to keep you in the seat (wish I'd had a can of THAT a few weeks ago..) and a 100-piece value pack whip assortment.

Never thought I would see the words "value pack whip assortment" together anywhere in my life.

Heard in the Costco Restroom...

2009-08-06T17:34:00.001-07:00

"Mom, could you wait outside?"

"Why?"

"I need some privacy."

"I'll close my eyes."

"No, it's better if you would go out there..."

"Well, I can't see anything with my eyes closed..oh, all right. What's up? You got something new I don't know about?"

"No, I just like privacy."

"Well you know, I've seen your goodies since you were born."

"No, I didn't have goodies when I was born."

Exit mom...and laughter.

RTT: There Seems to Be More Sex In This Post Than Usual...

2009-08-04T10:30:00.000-07:00

Wow, Tuesday again. It's been weeks since I've been in the RTT open swim. And how do you make an excuse for no post on Random Tuesday? That's like saying "I couldn't attend the Nudist's Ball because I had nothing to wear." Tuesday is the day where you string it together, throw it out, and be not ashamed. Kind of like when a toddler learns to dress herself. So, here we go...

My mom and I are going salmon fishing next week. It's become our August tradition and we have a ball. We always get on a boat with some real die-hard sportsmen-type guys who snicker at our pink ball caps and gloves; the ones who are certain they will have to catch fish for "the little ladies" as well as their own. Every year one of us gets the first fish, and it's always a nice one. Those guys' mouths flop open just like the fish and it's truly priceless. Maybe the fish favor us local folk?

We were dog-sitting for my folks this weekend, for their ancient lab/mastiff mix. My friend came over with the kids and told me about her search for a male lab to breed with her female. She admired old Bear and asked if he was fixed, which he is. After a few minutes of watching him amble around the yard before climbing the stairs V-E-R-Y slowly, she said, "You know, even if he wasn't fixed, I think he'd need a Viagra...for his whole body."

For the past three years or so our school has had the policy of "all parent requests for teachers will be honored". In the spring it was announced that this was no longer the policy and staff should spread the word. Lots of parents, grandparents, and interested parties tried to make end-runs and plead special cases, but it would seem that the edict held firm. The announcement was made "lists will be posted August 3", which became "the first week in August". Yesterday there was a veritable parade of cars in the parking lot circling past the doors. No lists. My guess is the principal is going to post them on Friday afternoon then run like hell. And not answer his phone till Monday.

You know that you are getting old when...there is some romantic snuggling going on, and then the pleasant warming sensation turns into a burning sensation. Holy crap you say, what kind of "personal warming gel" is that?! No, sorry, it's not hot romance, it's your lover rubbing his sore muscles with "Icy Hot" before bed and then getting frisky...

The Boob Fairy has already visited some of Pony Girl's friends. I was surprised to see some of them after a few months of summer vacation, looking so, ah, DIFFERENT. She had some thoughts on the subject:

"When your boobs arrive is when you start wearing make-up to dinner and important family events."

"Your make-up enhances your boobs."

I was unaware of the link between boobs and make-up. If make-up truly had such an effect on boobs, Tammy Faye should have needed a wheelbarrow to tote hers around in. And I went through an eyeshadow fetish in my senior year that should have left me with double-D's, at least..

Well, that's all I got for now. Better save some random for later, when my husband comes home and says, "So , honey, what did you do all day?"

Wordless Wednesday: I Bet This Will Keep the Deer From Eating Mom's Flowers...

2009-07-29T20:15:00.000-07:00

Sunday Night Stuff

2009-07-26T18:35:00.000-07:00

It's finally here! The week my children wait for all summer long! The week the church custodian fears above all others. The week that makes creative juices flow in ways we mommies only dream of all the rest of the year.

VBS WEEK!

Yes, Vacation Bible School is upon us again, and although we have known about it since May, we are swamped in a last-minute panic.

"How can we make a burning bush by tomorrow morning?"

"There aren't any red stickers anywhere in town for Pharoah's boils!"

"Can we stuff a whole team of kids under one table and pretend it's an Israelite house?"

Oh, it's always a great test of ingenuity and making-do. The early pioneers and settlers have nothing on me when it comes to creating stuff for VBS. Two years ago I made a "tribes of Israel" tent out of two stacks of chairs, a big brown tarp and some huge utility clips. A few saddle blankets on the floor and Presto! Just call me Rebekah. Last year it was "God's Big Backyard" and we had it all: tent, picnic table with checkered cloth and a blanket on the ground.

This year I'm at the Bible stories station. Hence the burning bush, boils (and other plagues) and Israelite house. Out of the five days I think Pharoah Day will be the most entertaining; the kids get to throw pretend dead fish and frogs at him, turn his drinking water to "blood" with kool-aid powder, and clip clothespin locusts to his clothes. Plus stick red boils all over him.

Anybody have any good VBS stories out there?

Wordless Wednesday

2009-07-22T20:55:00.000-07:00

It's Confession Time

2009-07-19T22:47:00.000-07:00

Dear Lord,

Remember two years ago, when we had our last visit from "the family"? How I said that I would try harder next time to be patient and kind, gracious and loving and understanding? How I promised to see them as beloved children of yours, and not be cranky, and not lose my temper, and not second-guess the parenting skills of the grown-ups or the behavior, attitude, or questionable amounts of respect shown by the children? How I swore not to compare the way their children acted to the way mine do? How I told myself I would NOT encourage my sweet children to offer their cousins a poke in the chops if they didn't keep their blessed hands to themselves? How I promised, in general, to be a better aunt, sister-in-law, daughter-in-law, and relative?

Well, I must have been lying. Bring on the lightning and put me out of my misery already...

Amen.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-07-08T08:41:00.000-07:00

Hay!

2009-07-03T17:36:00.000-07:00

Today, we went for hay. It is a necessity but as so many "must-do's" are, is not so fun. For the hay to be ready (for after all it is just dried grass tied in bundles) it must be hot outside. Freakin' hot. Lay in the shade and pant like a dog hot. If we could just do it in winter I wouldn't mind doing it, but, there you go. Since it's an outdoor activity in the sun, you must wear lots of sunscreen. And then the little itchy bits of hay stick to you, and get in your bra, or your tank top, or whatever.

And forget the romantic ranch hand fantasy, ladies. There are no hunky young studs in cowboy hats and sun-bronzed bare torsos buckin' those hay bales. Just old fellas with farmer tans, butt cracks full of hayseeds and greasy John Deere caps rolling hay and yelling "Git your foot off the clutch before you burn it up, Lurlene!"

The kids love it. They ride the hay baler with the farmer, catch snakes and jump bales. S.P. thinks it's a good workout for his surf rescue work. And for me? Today I hoisted and stacked, and kept thinking to myself, "am I really going to this much trouble for that big so-and-so who dumped me on my can two days ago?"

Ah, sweet irony...

Hurt

2009-07-01T14:14:00.000-07:00

I wanted to have a fun fabulous post today, or maybe a great picture in honor of Wordless Wednesday. And if you've been here a time or two you know my favorite photo subjects are the kids. But I couldn't do it today. Especially not a kid picture.

See, right now in our little corner of Washington the big story is a missing child. Missing since Friday night from a small town, not much bigger than where we live. A ten-year-old girl who was just walking six blocks home from a friend's house. Probably done it lots of times before. Everyone is searching everywhere for her. Someone knows where she is.

Pony Girl went to her grandparents' house on Monday. They live down in town, small-town. Grandma called her to set the table and she didn't come. Grandma looked all through the house, outside, down the driveway. The girl was gone. Grandpa happened to look out the big window and there she was, riding her bike down the side road. When I sat her down to explain why she must never go outside without someone knowing where she was, and she needed to have someone with her whenever she was riding her bike, she didn't understand why. So we pulled up the story online and I watched her read it. Now, she understands. She's my age, Pony Girl said. What do you think will happen to her?

I didn't want to think about it. Thinking about it would be admitting that it could so easily have been my child, pulled off her bike while no one knew she had slipped out for a ride.

But as hard as it is to think about, we still have to talk about it, and keep talking about it, and try to keep her and Jones safe without being overprotective. That balance gets harder to maintain every time something bad happens "out there". I can protect their heads with helmets, their bodies with seatbelts and their health with vitamins and handwashing. How do I protect them against evil people?

Wordless Wednesday

2009-06-24T09:35:00.001-07:00

Lazy, Crazy, Days of Summer?

2009-06-17T10:13:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid I couldn't wait for summer vacation to come. The last couple weeks of school just dragged by, and it was always warm and nice, so hard to get on the bus and spend a beautiful day INSIDE when summer was so definitely calling my name. But finally, the last day of school was over! I would hop off the bus with a bag full of old papers and junk out of my desk and run to the house, free at last.

It was a great feeling. Sure, there were chores to do; weeding the vegetable garden, house stuff, an occasional trip to the mountains for a load of winter firewood, but mostly my time was MINE. Sleeping late (well, it was pretty hot by 6:30 and hard to sleep with the hop duster plane flying overhead anyway), reading all the books I wanted, riding bikes, playing with my friends...the fun was endless.

And on weekends there were camping trips, horse shows, picnics, great mad fun stuff with my mom and dad. Life was great. It couldn't get any better.

Though there were times when I wanted to go somewhere that my bike wouldn't take me, and no grownup was available to drive. I wished to be older. Then when I was older and could drive there was the "parental permission" thing to get around. Such times when my summer freedom was curtailed, or denied outright, I thought to myself, "just wait until I'm an adult..."

Well TA-DA! It's here! I am an adult in the summer! School's out and the livin' is easy, right? RIGHT? Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Adult, you are free to rock out this summer day after you mop that gross floor, finish that heap o' laundry, hit the grocery store, take Pony Girl to the eye doctor, attend the Vacation Bible School planning meeting (and don't forget the road through town is closed, you'll have to detour..), and for the love of Pete would you TRY to get some exercise before you wear that BATHING SUIT?!

Hey, this summer business looked a lot easier when I didn't have any perspective..

She Cleans Up Good, Don't She?

2009-06-13T17:30:00.001-07:00

Isn't it amazing how a young lady can go from THIS:

to THIS:

In a four-hour time period?

Random Tuesday Thoughts: ...Oh Look, a Chicken!

2009-05-19T16:23:00.000-07:00

Dum-te-dah! It's day of all days...Random Tuesday! And they be no one in this chair more random than me. Hey, did you ever see "National Lampoon's European Vacation"? You know, the scene where the Griswolds have 15 minutes to see the Louvre? That's me, today, trying to shepherd my second-graders through 10 classrooms full of science-fair experiments in one hour. My brains are gone.

So, AWAYYYY we go...

One of my own students was in a funk because he had no science experiment to display. Over lunch, less than one hour before the fair was to begin, he had a GREAT IDEA. And the water bottle volcano was born. Take one full water bottle, loosen the cap, and place in a large basin. Squeeze really hard until the cap (and water too) shoots into the air. Refill and repeat. And relocate experiment to the sink area. He was a big hit and got a green participant ribbon too. Rocked his whole day.

Last night I found an empty snail shell on the floor by the washer and dryer. Made me wonder if it was empty when it came in the house, or if it was carrying a passenger, traveling in some little boy's pocket and went through the wash. Note to self: check clothing for snail stains...

We had the ASB carnival at school last Friday, with fun games, dunk tank, and goodies including a bake sale and cake walk. Good times and we made a lot of money for field trips, but the big irony of the night: the family with the diabetic child won three cakes at the cake walk.

I can't wait until she leaves. I'm so tired of the attitude, the snotty looks, the angry back turned on me. Most of the time I'm just trying to take care of things she needs, but the lack of respect I get in return makes me wish she would just disappear. I can't believe a ten-year-old could be capable of such hatefulness, but it gets worse every day. And she's so pretty, too.... Hey, anybody wanna buy a horse?

Oh, that's all I got. When this job ends I may actually get to READ other people's blogs again...

Oh, My Achin' Ass..

2009-05-14T20:03:00.000-07:00

What a day. On the field trip one of the kids in my group was feeling a little car (bus?) sick so I gave her a plastic bag for just in case. We made it all the way to the tide pools, then all the way back to the aquarium. I packed the bag into my backpack in preparation to get off the bus. As we were parking the bus, yes, sitting in the parking lot waiting to get off the bus, I felt a frantic whacking on my arm. Behind me the child is THROWING UP. I got the bag out and back under her face in time for the second wave but...damn.

And when we got back to school my sub for MY class had already escaped for the day. No note about how the day went, or how the kids were, or anything. So tomorrow I plan to just get them nice and quiet, look around, and say, "So, what do you want to tell me about yesterday?" And see if they have any guilty secrets to share. They must not have been fabulous or she would have left a glowing note....

Then for the big finish on my day, Pony Girl just came down the hall and said her teacher told them that anyone who doesn't participate in the science fair won't get a "4" on their report card for science. Well, hell. We got the notice about the science fair on the 8th, with an added note from the teacher that since they'd just finished a big project and the fair was the 19th, it was an optional thing. To me, basing a student's final grade on a project doesn't make it optional. I had to send her down the hall to her room so I could cuss this teacher out in style. We had a great idea for a project but with such a short time to do it she decided to wait and enter the fair next year. It's not the grade, because we know she has done well and will be proud of her work no matter what, but it just seemed like a bullshit trick.

Excuse the pissing and moaning. Maybe I need a little nap...

RTT: School May Not Be Out, But the Teacher Is...

2009-05-12T17:48:00.000-07:00

It's late, but I shall be random anyway. Here we go.

My students love the bathroom. Maybe I should move my desk in there with them so I can get more teaching done. We could begin a study of tornados...

And whoever designed that restroom should get a big ol' swirly. The tiled floors and walls magnify any noise the kids make until it echoes down the hall. It should've come with padded walls and a white noise machine.

Our creative writing assignment was "How would you build a snowman?" I had some great stuff come in, lots of descriptive words and details like "with a striped hat" or "with coal for buttons". I had to laugh at "not with yellow snow".

Had two kids rush up to me in the middle of writing time wanting to tattle about something-or-other. (A twosome that LIVE to tattle..) They were both insisting that they would talk first. With a long line of kids needing help with their snowman stories, I said, "get a sheet of paper and write down everything you want to tell me. Then I'll read it after I help these kids." Funny thing, they were tattling about two TOTALLY DIFFERENT INCIDENTS!

We are having a healthy eating contest among the kindergarten, first and second grades. After lunch each day they report how many servings of fruits or vegetables each kid ate. At the end the class who wins gets a fruit salad party with the Healthy Strides teacher. Today one of the students reported eating a serving (1/2 cup) of sliced olives. Another reported a serving of pickle slices. After taking a drink of water to rehydrate my salt-puckered mouth, I told them those foods were too salty to be eaten in 1/2 cup portions and counted as "healthy choices".

Today we watched the Schoolhouse Rock cartoon about adjectives before starting the writing time. It was so cool to listen to the song and watch the kids enjoy the animation. Maybe tomorrow I should review verbs, just so we can watch that one. "Verb, that's what's happening.."

That's all I got. Now I correct the papers.

The Resume Says TEACHER, Not Tree Removal Specialist...

2009-05-09T15:20:00.000-07:00

It's been a long and busy week. Taking one-day-at-a-time sub jobs can be like eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans; you don't know what exactly they'll be like or if you'll like them much once you've got 'em, but they are always an adventure. Good ones leave a lingering pleasantness, and the bad ones kind of disappear after you get done gagging. Having a long-term job can be better because the flavor's always the same, but if it's a flavor you don't like much after the first day you can't spit it out till the job's done. Sometimes the flavor grows on you, other times you just paste on a smile and gut it out. Like sucking one of those sour warhead candies Jones likes. This week I've had both kinds of beans. Monday was earwax. Yesterday was more like watermelon, with a brief appearance by sardine around lunchtime. Next week we shoot for chocolate truffle...

Anyway, today I was catching up on laundry, ironing, some computer time, and just general vegetating. S.P. came in to ask for some help with a project. An easy project, he said. Just sit in the truck and back it up when he said to. Aha. What's the catch?

"Well, I'm felling that dead tree and want to drop it without hitting the pumphouse."

As you can see, I didn't come near the pumphouse. Busted hell out of the corral fence though. Never ask a teacher to do a logger's job...

Wordless Wednesday

2009-04-29T13:29:00.000-07:00

Randomness, Take Me Away....

2009-04-28T09:18:00.000-07:00

Ah, Tuesday. Time to let the hamster spin the wheel again.

At my age, and as one of responsible adults in the house, it's my job to set a good example by buying and eating nutritious foods. There are dozens of healthy choices in the breakfast cereal aisle. Raisin bran, wheat chex, oatmeal. I want sugary rot-your-teeth-no-whole-grains, please. Where's that stuff that tasted like marshmallow rice krispy treats?

Cookbooks are great. There's a whole shelf of them in the living room. Another one in the kitchen cabinet. S.P. asks why I have so many, and couldn't I get rid of some since we always cook the same things out of the same one or two? He doesn't know about the third shelf full in the laundry room. It's my secret stash, my food porn. I love to look at the glossy photos of what could be, so different from what we have day in and day out...I never stray, it's enough just to look.

The kids are playing T-ball this year. Pony Girl is a little afraid of the ball and doesn't want to get in front of the grounders. Brilliant me, I'll play catch with her and LET THE BALL HIT ME so she can see it doesn't hurt that bad. Yeah, right. Go sit on the bench, tacos-for-brains...the swelling will go down in a few days...

A week or so ago Jones and I were discussing his manly parts and he decided "wedding tackle" was his favorite euphemism. The other day he said, "So if boys have wedding tackle, do girls have tackle boxes?"

We just got the new Cabela catalog. Not the sportsman's catalog but the women's clothing one with all the great-looking stuff in it. I could blow two paychecks ordering from that catalog, if I had a job...
ANYWAY, I turned a page to find a silk camisole and tap pants set in camouflage print. It was puzzling. When I wear stuff like that I want to say "HEY! LOOK AT ME!", not "HEY! BETCHA CAN'T FIND ME!" And my boobs are hard enough to find anyway...

Pony Girl has a report due this week on Native American tribes. All I can say is "When I was a kid we didn't have it so easy..." No, I really did say that. My parents' and grandparents' words flowed out of me even though I swore to myself I would never repeat that phrase. Golly Ned. You Google, you make notes, if there's a question about something you go to Ask.com....crap. Can I travel back in time and re-do all my elementary school papers? Because I would be so fabulously brilliant the teachers would think I was Doogie-Damn-Howser. She did do some of the research in books, and will always do part of it in books, but wow. The information superhighway really speeds up the homework process.

That's my best for today...but my two-week sub job starts on Friday and some of the juiciest blog fodder comes from the classroom!

If You Bake It, They Will Come...

2009-04-25T16:25:00.001-07:00

Well, just look at that. Wouldn't pie like that make you slap your grandma? Seems like no matter what we serve as the main dish at our church fund-raiser lunches the people just keep rolling in for the pie. Especially the chocolate-almond pie. Though this year my coconut cream pie was pretty popular too. And of course the lemon meringue, though it wasn't set up when we tried to cut it and it had to sit in the freezer for awhile...

But as Momma always said, no dessert till you eat your lunch. And they came, and they ate taco salads. Loads of taco salads. We ran out of tomatoes and olives, and it came pretty close on the meat. We overshot it on the cheese by ten pounds, but that'll keep in the freezer for another church-lady affair.

Everyone seemed pleased when we were done. Nobody argued much, we all tried to smile and get along, and I think we made enough to pay all the bills and have some profit as well. Now I'm going to take a little nap. Getting up before 6 to make meringue for pies is better left to the little old ladies of the church. I think I'm too young for that crap.

I Always Wondered Why That Bread Had A Hole In It...

2009-04-21T19:38:00.000-07:00

I know it's late, but I was at the Cash and Carry buying massive amounts of food today for the upcoming fiesta. 20 pounds of cheese, 20 pounds of lettuce, 10 pounds of sour cream, 90 tortillas and 2 huge jugs of picante sauce. And the checker still asked "Planning for a big event?" Nope, I'm just a really big eater. You should see the girdle I'm wearing....

But just-in-case my taco queen duties keep me from finding a fabulous picture to sling up here tomorrow, you can wander over to YouTube and check out "naked Swedish crispbread dancers". I tried to post the link but since it includes material for those over 18, you'll have to go there yourself.

Maybe next year we'll have a smorgasbord fundraiser. Bring on the crispbread, herring, and naked dancing waiters!

Can I Have A Margarita With These Tacos?

2009-04-20T11:06:00.000-07:00

I have discovered a true fact of life. Never, in a group meeting, express enthusiasm for any idea that the group should do unless you are prepared to be the chair of said event.

At our church we have a group of ladies who have been meeting **forever** and doing various missions projects that require funds be raised. We raise this money by holding a holiday bazaar/clam chowder luncheon in the late fall and a St. Patrick's Day luncheon/treasure room tag sale in the spring. Well, this spring no one was terribly excited to make the traditional St. Paddy's creamed chicken on biscuits lunch, so we discussed putting it off till after Lent and doing a taco salad lunch instead. (Creamed chicken in March was done to accommodate our folks who were not allowed to eat meat during Lent.) I was enthusiastic about a "Spring Fiesta" taco salad lunch, and suddenly I was the chair...sucker.

Is there a shopping list, I asked. Yes, somewhere. Is there a list of duties from the last time we did this. Yes, somewhere. Is there support for this project? Yes, of course! Except for the tried-and-true crew of ladies who are always there for these big church-lady kitchen extravaganzas started calling me...."Dearie, I just won't be there that weekend." Seven of the women who are my best helpers and know where things are and were going to get me through the planning and executing of this luncheon are not even going to BE THERE!

Well, at least we have decorations. We used them two years ago, at the last taco salad luncheon. Pinatas and big tissue-paper flowers, right? But here's the ladies in charge of decorating, telling me that no one has any idea where the decorations were put last time. We looked in all the closets, the storage shed, and three different garages. The blessed things are just gone. Well, make a plea to the congregation for Mexican-themed decorations and hope we don't get frog sculptures wearing sombreros and smoking joints...

And the big event is this week. Saturday. Got my pie-baking crew and my taco shell-making crew. A crew for doing up taco meat and a team of waitresses. Somehow, despite my sucky organizational skills and the glitches, we're gonna do it.

And next year, I'm keeping my taco trap shut. Adios.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-04-15T08:28:00.000-07:00

Excuse Me Ma'am, You Can't Bring That Hairy Thing In Here..

2009-04-14T09:42:00.000-07:00

Jones received a joke book in his Easter basket this year and spent the day walking around like a comedian in a bad lounge act telling us Easter-related jokes. Some of them were really good, others stank like the egg you hid under the porch step three years ago and forgot about. Of course, predictably, one went like this:

Q: Why was the Easter Bunny too embarrassed to deliver eggs?
A: Because he was having a bad HARE day!

And that is the segue into today's edition of Random Tuesday Thoughts...what do you think? The right blend of humor and subtlety?

I have curly hair. And a lot of it. And combining that with lots of rain here on the cost often makes it even more curly and voluminous. There are lots of nice words that could be used to describe it, or even neutral words that would be o.k. The one I've been hearing a lot lately is "big". I'm not so sure that is a good sort of word for hair. Usually I'd rather hear, "You have a lot of hair," or "You have thick hair," but there's something almost unkind about "Wow, your hair is really...big." I mean, I don't go around saying to people, "That's some big ass you've got there..."

When going into a store, the general assumption is that the salesperson is there to make a sale. The best way to do so, at least from what I remember from a short retail career, is to be pleasant to the customer. Don't suck up, but try not to offend. While shopping for hair products, the salesperson was telling me about a great new thing. "I love it," she said, "and lots of the women who come in swear by it. You'd probably love it too...it's great for big frizzy hair." Oh. Crap, I better take my massive afro out of this shop so some other customers can squeeze in!

My last year in college I shared an apartment with a friend, and quite often I would wet my hair in the bathroom sink in order to give it a fresh "do" for evening plans. One weekend her parents came up and she complained to her dad that the bathroom sink was really running slow. No problem, he said, I'll take a look at it. He tinkered around with the trap, and then with a pair of pliers, and the next thing I knew he was pulling this huge wad of hair out of the drain. It looked like an enormous drowned rat. He swung it around a little and said "Well, I wonder where THIS came from?" All eyes on me and my great big hair.

When we went to that family wedding a few months ago we played "the Newlywed Game" at the rehearsal dinner. One of the questions was "When you first met, what attracted you to your wife the most?" I couldn't think of what S.P. could possibly have said. When we flipped our cards he had said "her hair". Then he was telling everyone how when he saw me walking down the street I had long thick hair and it was the most beautiful hair he'd ever seen on a girl. Wow. I never knew that.

After my last trip to the salon I had some new streaks put in the front, and they turned really blond. It was a windy day and my hair was extra wild by the time I got out to the barn to feed the horse. While holding the hay in one arm and reaching up to open the gate, I felt something tugging on my hair. The horse was trying to EAT my HAIR! Apparently in its newly blond and windblown state it looked enough like the pale grass hay that she decided it was dinner time. Luckily she spit it out when I dropped the real hay and there was no obvious damage.

Sometimes whan I go to teach the best hairdo is a loose bun, because it keeps the hair out of my face and makes me look a little more like a professional and less like the wench on a bodice-ripper novel. One day a boy noticed me pushing the pencil I'd been using into my bun and asked why I was doing that. "Well, then I always have a pencil handy when I need one." Good enough answer for him. When I got home later and took down my hair I had three pencils of different lengths stashed in there. I could probably smuggle two hershey bars and a pint of vodka in there and nobody would ever know.

Well, that's all I got. Random on a theme. It's not supposed to rain, so maybe today my hair will just be medium sized.

It Feels Like Monday

2009-04-13T11:20:00.000-07:00

One of the difficulties of living in a small town is that no conversation stays private for very long. If you tell it at one end of town in the morning, there's a better than average chance that it'll be to the other end by dinner time. Really juicy gossip can go from one end of the peninsula to the other quicker than the mail truck.

That was hard to keep in mind when we first moved here from a much larger city, where you could go weeks without seeing the same faces in the grocery store on a regular basis. Around here everyone knows that Sunday-after-church is the place to meet people at Sid's Supermarket for a visit.) Discretion had to become a part of our conversations.

Added to the fun was the fact that both sets of our parents live here, and are pretty well known in the community. Most folks seem to think that if they hear a bit of news about US, they should hurry right along to let our parents know. And it's not uncommon for a piece of news involving S.P. or I to be told to US by our parents instead of us telling our parents first. Such as "I hear you are going to sub two weeks for Mrs So-and-So." when Mrs. So-and-So hasn't even asked me yet. Where did you hear that, I'll ask. "Oh, I saw her at the post office and she said she was going to ask for you..."

Sometimes the gossip can really get you in deep, so we try hard to keep things under our hats and tell the kids, "what you hear in our house (or car) stays in our house." So far that's worked pretty well. Maybe that's why I come here to tell stuff. Only one of you knows my folks, and you won't tell them nuthin', right Suz?

Today I had to go tell my dad that the horse he gave Pony Girl (and he has been so excited about her having) is not a good fit for her and her daddy and I need to start looking for a more suitable kid horse. She has been avoiding the barn and riding lately, making excuses about why she doesn't want to ride, and told me the horse scares her and she is very frustrated with riding. But she loved horses and Grandpa did give her the horse, and she didn't want to disappoint him. Ugh, what a conversation.

I have never liked unpleasant discussions, especially those where my dad and I are on different sides, and the thought of this one has made me nauseated for over a week. I kept reminding myself, "We both want what's best for Pony Girl..." But there was also the reality of all the money Dad had spent on the horse. Well, I got through the talk, and my dad's main thing was that he was bummed that she couldn't tell him herself about how she felt. But like I told him, she looks up to him so much and he had given her her "heart's desire" and was so excited for her to like it, how could she say anything?

We couldn't really talk much to anyone here because of the small town grapevine, and I didn't want to drag my mom into the whole thing and make her take sides, so it's been like a storm cloud over our house for months. But it had gotten to the point where even the lady who gives the riding lessons was noticing and commenting, and we knew it was time to step up and do it. But dang, it was hard. Like saying, "thanks for the generous gift but we don't want it." Doing the best thing on behalf of your kids is always right and necessary, but having my dad on the "other side" sucked.

Hugs, anyone?

What's This Thing Called Again?

2009-04-09T09:24:00.000-07:00

I was having a lights-out conversation with Jones last week as we so often do, and thought it would be a good idea to hit on the "no one should touch your private parts" speech again. (We had an incident near the school where someone tried to lure a boy into his car recently, and both kids had a lot of questions.)

So he asked if his chest was private parts, and I said no, just his penis and testicles. (Trying to make sure he knows the proper words instead of "wink" and "package", as we used to call it.)

"My WHAT?"

"Penis..."

"I know what that is, what's the other word?"

"Testicles, you know, underneath.."

"OH! I thought those were my NUTS! or my BALLS! I get it!"

I am so glad it's dark, because even though we are discussing a perfectly natural thing my face is red and I'm about to bust up. Yes, I say, those are also names for them, but if you go to the doctor's office with a problem you would want to use the proper words and say "Doctor T, I have a pain in my penis, or a funny mole on my testicles, not 'there's something wrong with my wedding tackle!'"

And now his dad will have something fun to talk about after lights-out....

Totally Random Tuesday: This Message Brought to You by Cold Medicine So Good it Should be Illegal

2009-04-07T13:53:00.000-07:00

It's Tuesday, so it must be the day of randomness. Maybe I should just declare it Random Week and be done with it. My thoughts today will go together in no particular order or logic, like the outfit my daughter put on to go out to dinner last week. I swear she looked like a bag person, or was playing "How Many Colors, Patterns and Fashion Styles Can I Combine Into One Costume?" It looked like she had sustained brain damage somehow, or Mardi Gras had thrown up on her. And the truly scary part? Her dad thought the outfit looked FINE. Of course he is color blind...

We went to Great Wolf Lodge for a night on our way back from visiting friends in Seattle. If you haven't been, it's a hotel with a water park inside. Very cool, and we all had a blast. Even Jones, who has been afraid of "scary" rides since Disneyland. He doesn't understand that sometimes people scream from sheer delight and fun, and is certain that the screams he hears on rides are howls of MORTAL TERROR. You want mortal terror, son? Take a closer look at some of those swimsuit selections on the other folks at the water park. Just because you CAN squeeze yourself into a size-8 string bikini doesn't mean you SHOULD. It was kinda good in a way though; after viewing some of the people there I didn't feel so squishy and out-of-shape anymore...

The kids had their conferences on Friday, before we left. Everything seems to be going well; they like school, get along with others, have good behavior. At the end of Pony Girl's conference her teacher hit us with a fabulous fun spring-break surprise: the kids are going to do research reports, and WOW! Would we like to take home some books for her to start looking through during the break? Uh, that's a big "No thanks" for me. Spring break is supposed to be a little vacation from work, and the kids were going to come home from Seattle, re-pack, and head out again with my folks. I didn't think they should have to oversee research work on their trip with her. C'mon teacher, let those brains have a rest. Bring on the SpongeBoob and comic books!

I am sick. It's the cold Jones had at the end of last week and it attacked me somewhere on the long stairway up to the Howlin' Tornado water ride. But we had been waiting for this trip for a month and I wasn't letting some germs get ME down, no sir. Why is it that people so often seem to get sick on trips like this? When we took the kids to Disneyland in the middle of a visit to the inlaws' place Pony Girl got a horrible stomach bug the day before we were supposed to drive to Anaheim. When we shared this story afterward it seemed EVERYONE had a similar trip tragedy: "Oh we saved two years for the snorkel trip and she broke her leg the day before we left.." or "We had to fly four kids across three states with two plane changes and they were all throwing up..."
I wonder why that happens? Is there a travel demon or something?

Well, now that I have no more random thoughts it's time for a little nap....

Wordless Wednesday

2009-04-01T10:58:00.000-07:00

Requiem 3/30/09

2009-03-30T13:46:00.000-07:00

Today...is a sad day. We've had a loss at our house, a spirit who's been with us a long long time. Since S.P. and I moved into our first home. Always there, eager to help out when things got down and dirty. Never too tired to pitch in, no matter how early or late the hour.

And when the first baby came, and stuff got nasty, my helper never refused. Never said "NO, that's just too much," or "Do that yourself, I can't take anymore!" No complaints at the burdens added by a second bundle of joy either. My friend stood through it all, doing the work when I was too tired to muster the energy.

Through dog barf, kid barf, and worse, we stuck together. Through a move across the state, when the load got heavier and we had to slog through sand, my faithful friend worked by my side. Sometimes harder than I did, into the night after I had gone to sleep.

But I knew time was taking its toll. Creaks and groans could be heard and there were times my helpmate needed to lean on me. And last night, the death knell. Vital fluids leaked from my loyal pal and I knew it was the end...

Today, my Amana washer passed away. And much like a couple who has been married for many years, sleeping and waking in the rhythms of a life lived well together, the dryer followed only hours behind, struggling to dry the very last load.

I cry not for the loss of my dear friends, but for the bill at the appliance store as I replace them....

It's Almost Done!

2009-03-27T14:22:00.000-07:00

Ooh, I am so excited! After almost two years our kitchen/dining room remodel is almost completely finished. The kitchen has been 95% done for 18 months, we've just been waiting on the floor. And the floor couldn't go in until the dining room/entrance extension was completed as the same laminate was going to go right through from the kitchen to the front door.

But oh, now it's almost there. The trim work is getting done, and good golly, it's beautiful. Next week I will get it all clean and ready and take pictures, and then post some "How We Made-Over Our Mess" shots. It's hard to believe it's the same place.

And with the exception of the rust carpet that needs replacing (which will probably have to wait till next year) this is the final step in re-making our 40+ year-old house! Ya-hooo!

Now we just have to keep it clean...

A Little Love Song

2009-03-26T09:50:00.000-07:00

When we first brought Pony Girl home from the hospital she went everywhere in the house with me. Kitchen, laundry room, bathroom. I got really good at doing stuff with one hand, which was no mean feat when it came to going pee and wrestling those baggy post-maternity pants up and down.

It wasn't because I didn't have any help. S.P. was home, then my mom came, and they were more than happy to take over whenever I needed a break. It was hard for me to explain to them that I just needed to keep her close all the time and it felt strange to let go. I guess when you've had a passenger for so many months it's odd to go solo again. But of course I had to share and pass the baby, after all it WAS her daddy and her grammy.

After the first week everyone had to go home, or back to work, and it was just us girls. And we snuggled. Mm-mm. All day long I would just hold that sweet thing, play with her perfect fingers, sniff the baby smell, rub my chin on her forehead, and sing little songs. Every now and then a feeding, and a diaper, and back to our chair. And she would fall asleep, and I would watch. Sometimes I would be tired too, and want to take a little nap, but I felt like if I slept I might miss something special. Eventually I would sleep too, but so often I just watched her face.

During one of these days I thought a trip out to the grocery store might be fun, so we bundled up and drove off. On the way there a song came on the radio, one that described everything I had been feeling about my new baby so well I had to pull over and just listen. I smiled, and cried, and said, "yes, that's exactly it." I still can't hear the song without crying those same tears of joy, remembering those first weeks with my sweet girl.

The funny thing is, it's a love song for a couple. It's called "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing"and was originally done by Aerosmith. A few years ago it was redone by a country guy, Mark Chesnutt. It's perfect for two people in love, whether it's a new love or love that's gotten old and gray together. But if you listen, it's can be perfect for a parent head over heels in love with a brand-new baby, too.

Here's a YouTube video with photos set to the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uanUMMqy9Xc.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-03-25T09:49:00.000-07:00

Random Tuesday Thoughts

2009-03-24T12:10:00.000-07:00

Boy, what a relief to get back online. Some mystery bug had the computer down yesterday and I couldn't sign on for anything. No blogging, no cooks.com to figure out what to make with a pound of hamburger, no access to the school website to see what important things I might be missing...

It must have been in sympathy for all the other sicknesses that have descended on our house. Finally it seemed that all the people were better, and the appliances started getting sick. The fridge has had an odd odor for weeks, though we have gone through it three times and chucked out any food that could possibly be making a stench. The washing machine does the watusi in the spin cycle so bad I have to sit on it to keep it from moving into the kitchen. And just for company the dryer makes this screechy cat-in-heat noise every now and then that brings tom cats to the door.

But, I have control of the computer again just in time to join the random fun.

I went on a field trip with Jones last week. Field trips are fun; between being a teacher and having kids I've been on quite a few. Why is it that the rottenest-behaved kids never have their parents volunteer to be chaperones? And I always seem to end up with at least one of them in my group. It's no secret why; the teacher always says "I gave you Little Sid Vicious because his mom isn't coming and I know you can handle him..." Well, crap. Sometimes I've hit the jackpot and gotten two or three of 'em. So I have my own child and the Demon Squad. Yee-haw. Last year the teacher asked if I needed anything and I asked for Valium and a cattle prod. She thought I was kidding...

Snow. I moved to the beach for moderate winter weather. Last week I was trying to teach a group of second graders and looked out the window and it was SNOWING in MARCH. AGAIN. Snow here used to be an anomaly, a rare treat. Like "I bought these snow pants for my young daughter and they haven't been used again till now, when I pass them on to you, my sweet granddaughter." If we wanted snow all the time we would have moved to a snow zone. One with a Target. And a Red Robin.

Laundry is fun. It must be because I do it so much. And it's o.k. because S.P. goes out in rain, wind and snow to shovel horse poo and feed the pony when I don't feel like it. But how come I check the pockets 99% of the time and find nothing, and the one time I don't check there's CHOCOLATE in the pocket of Pony Girl's coat and it goes through a hot dry? Ooh, gross. It looked like, well, crap. Used it as a visual aid:"This is why you must never keep candy in your pockets, kids..." Maybe I'll remember to keep checking those pockets.

EEHAW! Got a call to teach eleven days in April for one of the second-grade teachers. Good money, should provide a good story or two, and get to be at the school to keep an eye on Jones and his headaches. However, several of the kids in the class are either teachers' kids, or kids of friends, or of parents who have reputations for making things difficult for the teacher. So it may be more work than just teaching the class and doing the prep. Teaching your friends' kids, or your fellow teachers' kids, can be a huge headache if they don't respect your professionalism. Bring on that Valium...

We have a problem in our sixth-grade class this year with some of our young men and women. Some of the boys think it's perfectly o.k. to slap the girls in the face and say "oh, we're just playing around". That for me is enough of a problem, but it gets worse because the girls who are being slapped are allowing it: "No, that's o.k., I don't mind." As far as I can see it's not all of the girls, just the ones who want the boys' attention so much they don't care what kind of attention it is. It's finally being addressed, but I can't believe this would have been coming up with twelve-year-olds.

Gosh, I guess this should have been Random Tuesday Rants. Gripe, gripe, gripe...

I can end on a positive note because we have been playing "Mad Libs" with the kids lately. Pony Girl got some for her birthday and her teacher has been wanting her to spice up her writing assignments with more adjectives and adverbs, so we started doing them for practice. Now we do them because they're so dang fun. Even Jones gets into it. When their grandparents come over he just HAS to read them the latest Mad Libs we've created. A bit of wisdom from our last game? "When you make a promise, make a sailor's promise. Say yo-ho, yo-ho, near the bum cheeks I'll never go!"

There's a rule to live by...

Wordless Wednesday

2009-03-18T13:24:00.001-07:00

Is It A 5-Slap Restaurant, Son?

2009-03-14T09:57:00.000-07:00

We love us some country music at our house. That's not all we love; there's a wide assortment on the iPods here from AC/DC to Vivaldi. It just depends on what we're in the mood for. And if you've listened to some of that red-neck music, you know there are some quaint phrases that are only used in country songs. Jones' favorite phrase, that he heard a couple of years ago and has been using ever since, is "so good you'd slap your Grandma". The funny thing is, after he heard it in the song he heard it on some TV cooking show too. Well, we thought it was cute and didn't worry too much about it until my mother-in-law called one day and said "Jones told me my cookies were so good he wanted to hit me!" WHA? No, tell me exactly what you said to Grandma. "I said the cookies were so good I could slap my grandma! That's really, really good, right?" Well, she just didn't get it even after we explained, so he decided to save that praise for my mom, who understood what a compliment it was.

Anyway, it got me to thinking about how that could be a useful rating tool on this blog. Movies are given so many thumbs up, and restaurants are given so many stars, with five being top-notch. So the only icon that would make sense here, when talking about a restaurant or a recipe, would be the "granny-slap". I'm sure it would be a cute little thing, properly drawn. Maybe a cartoony hand slapping a little cartoon granny off a rocker? Don't know though, it would probably offend somebody, somewhere...

But anyway. For today, I offer a recipe we consider to be 5-slaps, for sure.

Pork Verde Enchiladas
1 1/2 to 2 lbs pork loin chops or tenderloin
1 28 oz can green enchilada sauce
1 2-cup pkg shredded co-jack cheese (more if you like cheese)
package flour tortillas (burrito size)

Cube the pork and toss in a zipper bag with 1/4 c. flour. Brown pork in 2 TBS oil, drain off excess oil. Add enchilada sauce to cover pork. Bring to a boil, then set to low. Simmer 4-5 hours, stirring occasionally. Scoop out pork, reserving sauce.

Make enchiladas: pork--cheese--sauce, then roll up. Place in pan, cover with reserved sauce and more cheese. Bake 30 min. at 350.

This is a recipe S.P. created while I was out at a workshop. I came home and said to myself, "what is that great smell?" Three enchiladas later I said "where did you get this recipe?" No recipe, he just made it up.

Apparently I'm Not Smart Enough To Be A Sexpot

2009-03-12T14:07:00.000-07:00

I was reading the weekly paper yesterday afternoon and an item in the police blotter caught my eye. It was about a minor female at the high school who was caught with pornographic photos on her cell phone. Further investigation revealed that the photos were of herself and she was texting them to a boy she liked. While I was appalled at the decay of the moral fiber of our youth, at the same time I was intrigued as to how I could use technology to give my own love life a little bump.

Our previous cell phones were bare-bones, just for making the occasional call or a game of pinball while stuck at the doctor's office. But last time S.P. came home with camera phones, saying, "Well honey, it's hard to get a plain old phone anymore.." I took a pic or two with it but never really used it for a camera. Till last night. Ooh-la-la, hot and sexy me was gonna wow that guy on his way home from work. I didn't get nasty, just a little cheeky, and sent it off. I figured as soon as S.P saw it he'd give me a call. No call. But when he got home he'd give me a grab, for sure. No grab. Maybe photo messages take longer? Well, for sure he'd see it on his travels to or from the pool. Nothin'... By bedtime I was starting to wonder, just WHO did I send that picture TO?

This morning he said he had to hit the lumberyard to get stuff for the new floor. Aha, I thought, surely by now that message will have come in, and he'll see it. No comment when he arrived back. Not even a smirk. So I asked "Did you get my message?" Sure did, he said, the 7-up for Jones is in the truck. Not that message, the OTHER message! "Did you send another message?"

Well, hell, I sent SOMEBODY a message.... let's see, who is above and below him on my contact list? Oh, just the boy scout den leader, and my in-laws... fabulous. "Are you sure the message sent, honey? What was it, anyway?" Oh, nothin'...just a picture of my nekkid bumcheeks framed in some trashy panties...

But looky here...there's something in my outbox...thank you, Lord (is it o.k. to thank God when your semi-pornographic text message didn't send?)

So, should I be more embarrassed that I tried to send my husband a smutty photo on my cell phone or that I wasn't tech-savvy enough to get the job done?

Wordless Wednesday

2009-03-11T08:16:00.000-07:00

2009-03-10T17:32:00.001-07:00

I was watching people at the kids' school yesterday during the book fair and saw several women with multicolored streaks in their hair. Not highlights, but blue, pink, red, purple. Rainbow streaks, you would call it. And they were not the sort of women who really needed to be calling attention to themselves, you see. If you saw them on the street with plain hair they might not catch your eye, but with the hair it was "HEY! LOOKY HERE! I AM MIGHTY VISUALLY UNAPPEALING AND THOUGHT I WOULD MAKE IT WORSE BY GIVING MYSELF FRUIT STRIPE HAIR!" I just didn't get it.

Why is it that the freezer door never gets left open just an inch when it's stocked with things like cheap popsicles, white bread for communion or the 20 boxes of girl scout cookies you're hiding from the kids? No, it's when you have a stash of halibut fillets, or there was a great sale on sirloin burger or premium ice cream and the freezer is stocked with great stuff that something blocks the door open just enough to send it all into meltdown. And half the time it's when you are gone for a few days to boot.

I never realized how much of a redneck my in-laws thought I was until S.P. and I played "the Newlywed Game" at the wedding we went to last month. One of the questions was "what is his favorite home-cooked meal?" I said "porcupines", which most people know are the rice-speckled meatballs cooked in tomato sauce. After the game several of the extended family gathered around me to marvel, "do you REALLY eat PORCUPINES?" Hand to Heaven, they truly thought we eat porkies at our house. I wonder if they think we have an outhouse and a still in the backyard too....

I Swear We're All Going To Start Gargling Lysol...

2009-03-09T16:37:00.000-07:00

OMG!!
Are almost-40-year-olds allowed to use that phrase while posting in their blogs, or is it reserved for the teen set? Well, I'm usin' it today, because it's that kind of day.

I had a teaching job today, and Pony Girl woke up with a 103.6 fever. No prob, my folks can come stay with her. Of course she wanted ME to stay, and could I try to get a sub to sub for me? No, not really. I've worked for this teacher so much she doesn't even write plans anymore, just leaves a stack of work with sticky notes showing what time to do each thing. SO I would have had to go in and put together a set of sub plans for the sub, and that wasn't happening. Grammy and Gramps would take great care of her and I wouldn't need to worry. Until 9:35, almost the end of reading time. The classroom phone rang and it was the office. Crap-ola, now Jones was in the nurse's office with 99.8 fever. Not too bad, except they send kids home with fever of 100, and he'd already had motrin this morning for the headache he woke up with! So he went home too.

Now, this might not sound all so bad unless you hear the rest. At least one person in our house has been sick since the first week of January. S.P. got sick and gave it to Jones, then it just kept going with new bugs, and now it's MARCH and we're still SICK!! I just finished a Z-pack for a sinus infection and thought that was the end, but then S.P. caught a cold, and then the kids started these fevers, and now we are all getting back on the freakin' merry-go-round again. I want OFF!

Screw Listerine, we're swishing with Clorox starting tomorrow...

Wordless Wednesday

2009-03-04T09:16:00.001-08:00

Random Tuesday...RECIPE?!

2009-03-03T17:54:00.000-08:00

Hi, there. I had a great idea this morning for some Random Tuesday Thoughts: The Wedding Edition. But then two things happened. One, a ginormous pile of laundry left over from our travels needing my attention. And two, my day slipped through my fingers faster than poop through a goose and I had no time to compose a witty blog entry.

So, I bastardized the sacred Tuesday tradition to bring you a quick and zippy soup recipe instead. And you have to admit, it's pretty random...

Chili Macaroni Soup

1 lb. hamburger
1 med. chopped onion
*cook till pink is gone; drain
5 c. water
15 oz. can chili beans
14.5 oz. can diced tomatoes (juice too)
can corn (drained)
1/2 tsp. ground mustard
1/2 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. pepper
sauce mix from Chili Macaroni Hamburger Helper
Stir into meat; bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover and simmer 10 min. Stir in macaroni. Cover and simmer 10-14 min. or till macaroni is tender.

We like to top it with queso dip and fritos, and a blob of sour cream.

Hey, That Bouquet Thing DOES Work...Sooner or Later!

2009-03-02T12:20:00.000-08:00

We went to a family wedding this weekend in Utah. Which was great for lots of reasons: we caught up on family stories, we partied with the relatives, we got to see Pony Girl really dressed up, and I got to squeeze in a visit with an old friend. And the fun thing about this wedding is that the bride was one of our ring bearers 15 years ago, and actually caught my bouquet. (None of the single women there wanted anything to do with it!)

We flew in Friday and hurried to the rehearsal site, just in time to see the END of the rehearsal. That was o.k., because Pony Girl is pretty smart and caught the gist of her job in a few seconds: follow the other flower girl and throw the flower petals UP so they flutter DOWN. And smile and be lovely. No problem.

Off to the rehearsal dinner. Just a few blocks, so we could walk there. Go two blocks south, then one east. Oops, not the right place. So we asked directions. No, it's two blocks east of here, then one south. Walk, walk, with two hungry and travel-tired kids hurrying along. Crap, not here either. Cell phone rings, it's the father of the bride. Are you lost, he asks. Oh yeah, it turns out that the second person who gave us bad directions had us walk right past the back side of the place and four blocks out of our way. BUT we finally made it, just in time for dinner. A lot of fun, and the bride came by to let us know that I didn't have to do Pony Girl's hair; the whole wedding party was being done at the wedding site. Ya-hoo for me, and Pony Girl too, who has little patience for me fiddling with her hair.

After the dinner was a meet-and-greet party for family and friends, where five lucky couples played "The Newlywed Game". S.P. and I volunteered, despite having sucked at this game five years ago on our 10-year anniversary trip to Sandals. Without going into embarrassing detail, I can say we have not improved with time. Luckily Jones fell asleep on a sofa and missed the whole thing; Pony Girl witnessed our last-place finish.

Next morning the kids swam with their dad and aunt while I visited with family, then it was off to the wedding venue for Pony Girl and me. She decided on lots of curls, and while she was getting done up and hanging with the "big girls", I got to hang with my friend. You all know her as Suz, the Queen of Green Jello. We hadn't seen each other for 20 years, and it was a treat to just sit down with her. She showed me fabulous pictures of beautiful Utah, beautiful daughters, and a handsome man who she is enjoying life with. (Did you know you glow when you talk about Ron, Suz?) It wasn't a long time to spend together, but I felt very blessed to have seen her and shared a bit of time.

The wedding itself was very sweet, with the groom not bothering to hide his tears at first sight of the bride, and lots of funny, tender moments. Afterward we rode a travel bus up into the mountains for the reception where we toasted, watched a slide show full of photos of the couple (including one from our wedding where the bride attended us as a little girl) and danced a lot. Jones was the "family photographer" and kept disappearing with the camera to take pictures. When we got home there were some really, um, artistic-looking shots that were either too dark or too oddly angled to tell what they were, but for the most part he got some very good ones. Several of Pony Girl and S.P. dancing during the bridal party dance, and a excellent one of the bride and groom together.

Near the end of the evening the bouquet was tossed. All the single ladies went out, and the flower girls were encouraged to join them. They should have passed out catcher's mitts, because the flowers hit the floor twice without anyone laying a finger on them. The third time it went up, up, up...and no, Pony Girl didn't catch it.

It was a great wedding, and a wonderful weekend, and just so magical, almost, to see the bride come full circle from the little girl at our wedding to the beautiful woman at her own. Her dad told us that the years would just fly by and before we knew it we would be giving our little girl away.

Now there's something to think about.

All I Ever Knew About Fat Tuesday Came From Watching "COPS"

2009-02-26T11:59:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid, there was Easter. I don't remember much about the weeks that led up to it, except that it seemed to take a darn long time to come. In high school I knew about Lent because one of my best friends was Catholic and always gave up candy for forty days. When we asked why she replied, "Because the church says so and my mother hates me." But I did learn from her that Lent came after Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday. With the premiere of "COPS", I learned more about Fat Tuesday than any one person needed to know. You went to a decadent town, drank yourself stupid, and showed off what your momma gave you in pursuit of some cheap trinkets. Yee-haw.

Fast-forward to 2009. It's Monday, and the kids and I are talking about going to the Shrove Tuesday pancake supper at the church the next night. But Momma, they ask, what does "Shrove Tuesday" mean? and do they call it Fat Tuesday because you get fat from eating pancakes? and why do we eat pancakes? and why do they call it Lent, anyway?

Questions, questions. And all Momma's got to fall back on is COPS. Never fear...it's Google to the rescue!

We always go to the Shrove Tuesday pancake dinner, but this is the first year the kids have asked questions about it. After a little research we found that traditionally pancakes were made to use up the eggs, milk products and fats that would have otherwise gone bad during the forty days of Lent. "Oh, that's why they call it Fat Tuesday, not because you GET fat!" Sure, sure. I always seem to be a bit larger after the pancake dinner, but that's neither here nor there...

And then there was the discussion of Lenten sacrifice. I explained that it is a time to practice self-discipline by giving up something you really like, or trying to stop a bad habit. If you give up buying a latte every day, for example, you might put the money you save in a special bank and on Easter donate it to a food bank or other charity for the poor. Or you might stop talking about people behind their back, or.. "I know! I know! You could stop picking your nose and wiping it on your pants 'cause that's gross!" Yes, that could be a very fine Lenten promise. (Note to self: check children's pants for bogies before throwing in wash..)

Now, on Sunday you may indulge in a latte, or chocolate, or some T.V. time (depending what you have given up) because it is a feast day. Just be moderate and no, if you have pledged to give up using vulgar language or kicking the dog you may NOT do that on Sundays! (Am I raising lawyers here? Always looking for the loopholes..) And of course if you are giving up something it must be something you like in the first place. "Yeah, because if you gave up brussel sprouts or okra it'd be CHEATING because that's gross stuff anyway! And I bet most of my class would want to give up homework because they never turn it in on time anyway."

At the end of Lent is Holy Week. We have Maundy Thursday, remember kids, where we talk about the last supper and eat with everyone. And then Good Friday... "Is that Easter?" No, that's the day of the crucifixion. "That doesn't sound so great to me, why do they call it GOOD Friday?" "Yeah, I think they should have called it BAD Friday instead!" (Oh, my head...I'd better not give up Tylenol for Lent..) O.K., I think we're ready.

After the fun Tuesday evening at the pancake supper we attended the Ash Wednesday service. It would be their first time to go; we wanted to be sure they were old enough to understand the service and ceremony. I hadn't talked much about this, other than to say there would be songs, prayers and communion, and Pastor would make a mark on their foreheads with ash. In we went, and it was a little disconcerting to find there were no other children.

After they had been marked with the ash, they sat close to me and listened to the meditation. I worried it might be over their heads, but as Pastor spoke about how the ash was like God's fingerprint on each of us, marking us as His own, I saw Jones smile and touch his forehead.

Some of what they will learn over the next forty days may be a bit out of reach, and some may not make full sense to them at this time in their lives, but I hope they will find meaning in these old traditions. There must be more to this season than shiny beads and jellybeans.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-25T08:43:00.001-08:00

Random Tuesday Thoughts

2009-02-24T09:25:00.000-08:00

Oh boy, random day. The day in which nothing has to connect, go together or hang with any cohesion. Hmm, sounds like any other given day...

As a guest teacher in my kids' school I have met pretty much every kid. Some of them I know better than others. Some of them S.P. has heard so many stories about if he were to ever meet their parents in the store I would have to jam my elbow into his side and my hand over his mouth. Why is it, when we celebrate perfect attendance each month, the kids who we teachers WISH would stay home once in awhile are the ones who never, ever miss a day?

We are going to a family wedding this weekend in Utah, and part of the Friday night pre-wedding fun includes a meet-and-greet party hosted by the groom's family. The invite read "business casual attire". Since most of our invitations these days are to kids' parties or home parties where only your wallet is required, that phrase isn't one I'm down with. S.P. said it's pretty much whatever you would wear to work. He would wear slacks and a sport shirt, I could wear nice pants and top. Just no jeans. It got me to thinking, though. What if you worked in porn? Or if you were a stripper? It would certainly add a new dimension to that phrase now wouldn't it?

Why do clothing manufacturers make thong underwear for nine-year olds? I was shopping for Pony Girl and saw it on the rack, and was...well, words fail me. I wanted to ask the clerk where the matching push-up corsets were.

I was so mad last week I wanted to cuss, but at the same time could have cried as well. My job for the day was teaching sixth grade. The morning math assignment was dividing and multiplying with decimals and one of the boys stayed in for extra help. Turned out that the reason it was so difficult is he doesn't know his times tables. He was counting on his fingers and guessing, and I'm trying to help and thinking "oh my Lord, they're sending this boy to seventh grade next year and he has no grasp of basic math?" The regular teacher told me no one supports him at home and he can only absorb so much during the day...

On the other hand, during social studies the students were supposed to be researching and writing reports on presidents. After making several circuits of the room I noticed one boy was doing nothing AT ALL. When I asked him to show me what he had, he said that was impossible as it didn't exist. In short, he had no intention of doing the work because, I quote, "rich and famous video game designers don't need to do this kind of stuff". Pissed me off because here's a kid whose parents DO support him at home, and who is capable of being successful at school, and he's just wasting it. So I went to the phone, called his mom (who I am friends with), and let her know he had a research project due Tuesday that he was not planning to do. Told her what he said, too. She asked for a copy of the project plan and told me his weekend plans had just changed....

I hate to copy anyone, but I share Casey's (Half As Good As You) secret lust for french fries. In high school we used to buy fries and chocolate shakes and dip the fries into them. Ooh, bliss. And there are times now at 9:30 p.m. that I want to get in the car and drive into town for a bag of fresh hot fries from the golden arches. My second secret lust is the hash browns from the same place. And while eating fries I poke each one to make sure it is not a hard crunchy one. Only the soft-inside, crispy-outside ones get eaten. Then I can pretend I have been virtuous:"See, I didn't eat ALL the fries..."

Better. Now that my head is cleared out I can get some work done!

My Son Slept With A Girl!

2009-02-19T12:45:00.000-08:00

I always thought the day it first happened would be a shock to the system, or at least an occasion for some feelings of shame. But it was actually not so bad at all. They even let me snuggle up with them.

Yes, my boy has slept with his first girl and we are pleased and proud. She's welcome to come back and sleep with him again, any time. At least until they hit puberty or so.

This young lady has been Jones' best girl since preschool. Now they're in first grade and the bloom is still on the rose. There is a special folder in the computer where we keep pictures of the two of them, just in case someday they decide to get married. We have pictures of them as little cherub-cheeked sweeties dressed up for Halloween, chasing goats on a field trip, and on the first day of kindergarten. Pictures from birthday parties, sharing hugs, sharing pizza, looking all grown-up in their first-grade classroom.

Abby was the first person Jones ever asked to spend the night. He was up before 7 a.m. cleaning his room, making his bed and arranging his stuffed animals for her to come over. He even cleaned up the bathroom! And when she arrived they had it all planned out, let me tell you. Dinner, then playing outside, then movies, popcorn, and staying up really late. I had hosted a slumber party for 6 giggling seven-year-old girls before. These two little lovebirds out-giggled that whole crowd just during dinner!

It started with the prayer. I commented that we most always say a prayer before dinner in our family. Jones said, "Abby isn't our family," and S.P. said that good friends are like family. And I pointed out that someday when Jones got married his wife would be part of the family. Next thing was Abby saying "Jones, why are you LOOKING at me like that?" Giggle, giggle... and they kept giggling the whole time. Giving each other these googly-eyes and giggling. S.P. and I got done and started working in the kitchen, and the love-monkeys kept getting up to whisper to each other and giggle more. I think they were planning to live on love, but we did get them to finish their food and go outside for a while.

After they came back in it was movie time. I was expecting to show Toy Story, or Monsters Inc. or one of the Disney/Pixar type kids' movies. Abby's eyes lit up when she saw we had Indiana Jones movies! I think at this point Jones realized she was even more of a catch than he had originally thought and they settled down in their pj's and sleeping bags to enjoy the show. I looked off the couch at one point during a "scary part" and I'm almost sure she was covering his eyes for him.

When the show was over they brushed their teeth and were off to bed. Jones let Abby sleep on his bed and we made him a pallet on the floor. After some more giggling they fell asleep. I asked him the next day if he slipped Abby a goodnight kiss after we left the room and he said "I just thinked her one in my mind."

Ah, love...

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-18T08:42:00.000-08:00

Not This Month, I Have A Headache...

2009-02-10T21:50:00.001-08:00

I have been falling down on the blog this week. I noticed that my last post was Thursday. I missed out on the chance to be totally random today, and believe me when I say my brains have been quite random lately. There was great blog fodder on Saturday night when Jones had his "best girl friend" sleep over and I let it go to waste. (Though it may turn up in re-runs...)

The problem is a headache. And for once, it's not MY headache. It is number one son's headache, and it's been rattling around for nearly a month now. He got it with a cough/cold bug right after school started up again after the holidays, and it just won't go away. And every day it's running up the score.

First it came and went, and either tylenol or motrin would take care of it. Then it seemed as if every day after school he had a headache that needed medication. Then the school started calling me mid-morning to say Jones had a headache, didn't want to come home, so either S.P. or I would run to school and give him something for it. Now he wakes up with the headaches and no OTC meds will touch them. He spends parts of his day lying down in the dark in the nurse's office because he doesn't want to come home. Until today he didn't even ask to come home. We had talked about getting a doctor's appointment and yesterday, while I was teaching at the school, he came to my classroom. He had another headache and asked "Momma, did you get me a visit with the doctor?"

We do have an appointment scheduled, though S.P. says it will most likely not give us the answers; it'll just be a referral for scans, tests, probably a pediatric neurologist. S.P. had the same baffling headaches when he was the same age; after numerous tests, visits, etc. it was determined that he had "headaches of unknown origin". For a while when the headaches started we just guessed that Jones was really daddy's boy and had the same thing. Then I worried. What if isn't the same thing and we are ignoring something serious? So off we go to the doctor.

It's odd to say, but even though I am very concerned about WHY he is having all these headaches and am very frustrated that in all my mommy-power I can't make them stop, there can still be a little something funny to tell. The school nurse checked his vision in case that might be causing the headaches. His eyes are fine, but his teacher mentioned that the fluorescent lights in the school could be part of the problem. On the way home we stopped at my parents' house and they asked him how his eyes were. He said his eyes were just fine, but he might be allergic to the "I.V. lights" at school. When I asked him if he meant "U.V. lights", he said yes, so I asked if he knew what that meant. "Sure Momma, ultra-violent lights!"

Thank goodness for funny stuff.

Things I've Heard Since Last Thursday

2009-02-05T08:10:00.000-08:00

Wow, a whole week since I've been here to write. Well, not exactly. I've been here and looked at a blank screen with no inspiration. There was a fleeting moment on Tuesday, when I thought of throwing out some random crap in the spirit of "Totally Random Tuesday". But I couldn't get it together. And it was really bad yesterday when I couldn't even pull out a picture for Wordless Wednesday. Just a lot going on, and none of it seemed worthy to put up here for public consumption.

But today I thought over the week, and realized that other people have said some things that might just be worthy. Things that made me smile, or laugh, or think, or even get pretty mad. So here it is.

"I know farts, and that was a dog food fart. Did you get up in the night and have a snack? Woof woof." (husband accusing me of farting in the bed)

"There she is, she is my best friend!" (one of Jones' friends, on seeing me come into the cub scout meeting. He has special needs and I often give him extra help in the classroom.)

"We will now have the flag salute. Those in scout apparel may leave on their hats. All others remove non-scout apparel." (At the Cub Scout Pinewood Derby, the scoutmaster meant to say all those in non-scout apparel should remove their HATS. I had heard of flashing at Mardi Gras, but never at a Cub Scout function.)

"I don't like the way he sasses her. I wish he would lose his voice for a few weeks." (Jones, describing the behavior of a classmate who is disrespectful to his beloved first-grade teacher.)

"Why do you need to SEE me in the BATHROOM?!?" (In the developmental preschool restroom there is a dutch door and we like the kids to shut just the bottom so we can keep an eye on them. When one shut both doors we told him we needed to be able to see him in there.)

"The markers are over there in that cabinet, behind the boxes with the vibrators." (Again at the preschool. We use massagers of non-phallic shapes to provide sensory stimulation for some of the kids. Which I did not know about until yesterday and my friends on staff thought I did know.)

"Honey, I need you to help me. Come in here and grab my hose." (Hmm, not as good as it sounded. We had to drain the hot water tank.)

"Hey Mom, my jeans are getting too small! No, just in the hips and the bum." (Hey, wait. I'm not ready for hips and bum yet, missy! And is that a zit on your cheek?)

And finally..
"Grandpa thought it was ridiculous that I was still riding with training wheels on. He said someone my age didn't need them anymore." (Good thing my kids don't have their own blog, or I would be nominated for "longest string of cuss words I shouldn't probably have said in front of my children", along with "rudest remark ever made about an in-law". At least I refrained from using the "big one".)

Maybe tomorrow I'll be inspired and the regularly scheduled feature will return. Till then, be careful what you say. Never know who's listening...

Open Wide, Honey!

2009-01-29T10:06:00.001-08:00

I have to take Pony Girl to the dentist after school today. She went two weeks ago for a regular six-month checkup and everything looked good...EXCEPT.

The dentist and hygenist described it to me as a "buckle pit", which is a fancy way to say that as one of her new molars was forming it didn't grow together and make a smooth surface on the side. It left a pit, which they have been keeping an eye on for several visits. This last visit, it had sticky stuff in it that could indicate 'pre-cavity' activity.

SO, it needs attention. Of the filling sort. Will it need a drill, I asked. No, not exactly, more of a high-pressure water/air scoop tool. How about Novocaine? Well, we can try without but it depends on how sensitive the tooth is. When do you want to do it, the receptionist asked.

NEVER. Unlike lots of her classmates, this is the first tooth Pony Girl has had that needs work. All the dentist visits have been a breeze, with the exception of the icky-gross (her word) fluoride treatments. A little picking, a little poking, a spin with the tickly polisher and then a new toothbrush and trip to the treasure chest.

This is the real deal; the other side of the treatment room, so to speak. When she was getting ready for school I reminded her today was the dentist and asked her if she was ready. She laughed and said, "Oh Momma, it's not like it's going to HURT!" I laughed too. Ha-ha. Oh, I sure hope not.

Now, I know that this day would come sooner or later and I'm just being a big weenie. But I've been in that chair a LOT (root canals, crowns, and braces too) and I know sometimes it hurts. A whole bunch. And right now it's kind of difficult to think about taking this daughter of mine, who I'm supposed to protect from hurts, into a room where she most likely is going to have pain.

Will she be scared? Will she cry? Will I? Will she be angry that I didn't tell her all about what was going to happen before we went? Should I have told her? Will she be afraid of the dentist after this?

Gosh, it's just like one of those soap-opera cliffhangers.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-01-28T08:59:00.001-08:00

I Had Ambition, And StupidVideos Took It Away...

2009-01-27T12:45:00.000-08:00

Boy, did I get up with a list of things to do this morning. Laundry to finish, some teaching materials to sort through, clean up the house a little, and the biggie, help S.P. put up some electric fence. And I had HOURS to get it done before going back to pick up the kids. Just gotta check the e-mail, and a fast jump to MSN to see what's doing on the news...

Hey, look at that. MSN has a teaser for an $82,000 swimsuit. Better click on it...oh, it's a video. On StupidVideos. Oh no, I'm being sucked in! HELP MEEEE....

Holy crap, what happened? It's almost lunchtime. My foot's asleep and so is my ass. And all the wash is still there, and the mess, and everything else. StupidVideos stole my morning. It was insidious, the way it happened. First the swimsuit story. Then a ninja cat video. Then "The Evolution of Dance", part one AND two. Then it was just a blur of bad singing , flying body parts (bare and clothed), and bratty kids.

I kept telling myself, "Just one more, just one more. I can stop after this one.."
I remember saying that about beers in college, dates with guys I knew were no good, and the nanaimo bars left over from Christmas. Finally, I came to my senses with the one thing that could not be denied.

I had to pee.

Now I'm going to get busy on my to-do list. Nothing will stop me or slow me down! I just have to make a quick stop over at GreenJello's, and from there maybe go to Casey's, and a fast peek in at Keely's....

We Have Spirit, Yes We Do!

2009-01-24T18:01:00.000-08:00

No, it's not an episode of "I Love the 80's", it's the photo evidence of SPIRIT WEEK at the elementary school!

Day 1 was "Wacky Hat Day", with Jones going military style with the cool khaki hat his grands brought him from Finland. It's got funky pins all over it and he thought he was the cat's ass in that thing. Pony Girl put on her pimpy top hat made of pink and purple leopard print fur, the one that looks like it has Hostess sno-balls stuck all over it. Truly fabulous.

The second day, the only one they really dressed up for, was 80's Day. They did this one last year and had the most fun with it, so we tried to make good outfits again this time. Since they wanted me to dress up and come help in their rooms, I went for the classic 80's look. Big hair, big-ass lace bow, lace gloves, and blue eye make-up. Since none of my shirts have shoulder pads I had to rig some up on my tank top straps. They worked pretty well, except for when I bent over to help kids with their work; then they slid down and it just looked like I had big square boobs. Pony Girl did the Flashdance thing, right down to the leg warmers. I made them out of the sleeves of the ugliest sweater the thrift shop clerks had ever seen. And the coolest part is that now I have a great sweater vest for next 80's Day! And Jones rocked the grunge look, with the exception of the stringy lanky 'do.

Celebrity Day followed, with so many little girls dressed in minis and leggings to emulate Hanna Montana it looked more like Tramp Day on the first floor. I stopped to talk to one of the reading teachers and we saw a mini so short it really did look like a belt. I asked "Isn't this Celebrity Day? What celebrity is that, Heidi Fleiss?"

To wind up the week we had Color War with each class assigned a color. All the classes had a pretty decent showing with the exception of the one kindergarten class who was assigned...pink. One little boy warned the teacher "I can't wear pink, my daddy won't like it!" I did see one boy sporting his class color; pinned to the front of his blue sweatshirt was a tiny pink baby t-shirt belonging to his sister. Cute, cute.

That's all the spirit we got. Maybe we'll get points for style.

Santa Gave Me Salmonella!

2009-01-22T09:35:00.000-08:00

With all the uproar about tainted peanut products and things being recalled and pulled from shelves, S.P. and his crew decided to print a full list at the pharmacy yesterday of all the affected products. He noticed that PetSmart was pulling some of their pet food items, which was something we hadn't really thought about. Of course we checked our pantry for foods that would make us sick, but didn't even consider all the treats we buy for Lilly that contain peanut butter.

Like the big bag of doggie treats Santa brought that had a fat ol' layer of cute peanut-shaped cookies near the bottom...

Now, the disclaimer. I AM NOT BLAMING PETSMART FOR WHAT HAPPENED IN THE STORY I'M GOING TO TELL, NOR AM I SAYING THE CUTE PEANUT DOG COOKIES ARE TAINTED WITH SALMONELLA. I don't even know what happens if dogs are exposed to salmonella. But, if you read the little sidebar about our family you have a preview of what's coming up. Don't read on if you think poop is gross.

Story opens first thing in the morning with me on the couch, S.P. in the kitchen. It's quiet, the dog is already out, and I hear Jones coming down the hall. He pats my arm and says, "Momma, there's something in the bathroom." Something? "Something bad."

Hmm. "Did you do it?" No. "Did Pony Girl do it?" He doesn't think so. S.P. is curious at this point and goes to investigate. "OH SH*T!!" Wow, must be bad. I start to get off the couch and here he comes. What is it, I ask. "Whaddya mean, didn't you hear? It's SH*T! I think the dog exploded."

Then he gets the fireplace shovel and heads back to the bathroom. Dang, must be bad. He comes into the kitchen for a trashbag and paper towels. "Hey, will somebody come hold the trashbag?" Jones and I look at each other. He's been the Trash Man on the chore chart for a couple of years and is quite proud of the title. I say, "looks like a job for Trash Man!" Uh-uh, he says, not when there's turds.

O.K., I can hold the bag. When the door opens and I see the bathroom floor my first thought is, "what could be worse?" Then I smell the smell. Oh, I can't hold the bag; not even sure I can hold down my coffee. S.P. tells me to go away because he doesn't want to clean up barf too, but would I throw in a new roll of Clorox wipes?

Pony Girl gets up, looks in, and decides that either the toilet has overflowed or her brother has, and can she use our bathroom? Later as S.P comes through with a disgusting trashbag I hear him say "any day that starts with scooping crap out of the bathroom with the fireplace shovel is destined to be a bad day..."

Then a few days later, another mess on the bathroom rug. We can't say yes, it is directly because of these treats, but it's the only thing different in her diet so we are chucking them out and maybe the yuck will stop. Because if that happens when S.P. is at work I'm pulling out the shop vac.

Anyway, check out your pet treats as well as your people treats. There may be nothing wrong with them, but wasting a little money might be better than finding "Something Bad" in your bathroom. Or on your best carpet.

Wordless Wednesday (a Little Early..)

2009-01-20T22:57:00.000-08:00

You Want Me to Taste WHAT? or, This is Not Your Mother's Home Party

2009-01-19T12:58:00.000-08:00

I was sick this weekend. Just a cold, the same one everyone else in the house has had, but it dragged me down and made me not into doing much. Which was too bad because on Saturday night there was a chance for me to go out and have a little social-type fun with my friends. No, not a hot club or fabulous foreign film, but almost as good: THE HOME PARTY.

I had to call in sick, so missed out on the chance to nibble finger food, catch up on the latest news, and try on jewelry with the girls. You see, the jewelry home party is the latest stop on the "sell-from-home-and-make-a-bundle" train. And that train's been chugging along for a lot of years! I used some of my sick time to remember parties from my past...

My mom used to go to Tupperware parties, where you could win an orange peeler and buy a bunch of bowls. I went to one but all I remember is playing with plastic toys and eating cookies. She took me to a Mary Kay party once, where 12-year-old me sat with a bunch of "old ladies" putting on layers of makeup and wondering why the saleslady thought I needed wrinkle cream.

In college I went to a home party where the hostess was selling lingerie. "Try before you buy!" she said. And there's the dressing room, and here's the punch bowl full of cosmos, and before I knew it I was modeling undies in front of all my friends. That's where I wrote Rule #1 for myself when attending home parties; "Thou Shalt Not Spend While Drinking". I had to work extra shifts at the drive-in to pay for all the underwear I ordered at that party!

After S.P. and I got married it was candle parties, Discovery Toys, knives, and my favorite, Pampered Chef. At the other parties you always got finger food, usually chips and dip, veggie tray, and maybe a cookie. At Pampered Chef the hostess makes real food to show off how to use all the fabulous kitchen tools. If you're lucky the party is set for dinnertime and you can leave the family at home and go have a fancy three-course tasting meal including a cocktail beforehand. And the catalog is full of the coolest kitchen gadgets imaginable. Even if you suck in the kitchen you want this stuff.

Since we moved here, there aren't as many parties. Catalogs get passed around and orders are placed but no one really wants to host a party. Last year was the dawn of Occasions, a new kind of party where you could taste mixes and prepared items for party-ready foods. That was great. We just stood around and grazed, and when you wanted to order something you knew exactly what it would taste like. I thought it was the best sort of home party I'd ever been to.

Then I got another invitation. ""Bring A Friend!" the invite read. I could ask my mom, or a fellow teacher maybe. It was some of the techs S.P. worked with at the pharmacy. Not a company I recognized. What kind of products, I asked. The hostess suggested I check it out online. Oh, my. This was a SEX PRODUCTS home party. Lingerie, costumes, lotions, potions, vibrators, dildos, whips, cuffs, you-name-it-we've-got-it. Holy crap. Now, here's me, trying to fit the idea of this in with all the other home parties I've been to. At the Discovery Toys party we played with the products, at Pampered Chef the hostess showed us how to use the products, at Occasions we tasted the products. Hell no! I'm not playing with any vibrating clamps, I'm not watching the hostess show me how to use ANY kind of beads that are labeled "anal", and I'm sure not taste-testing all the Love-Lubes to find my favorite flavor!

And I didn't even want to think about what the door prizes would be.

What's A Nice Girl Like Me Doing In BFE?

2009-01-17T16:03:00.000-08:00

So often since we moved here to our small town, people who knew us before ask "How could you leave the city? How can you stand it there without good shopping, good schools, good anything?!"

Well, yes, there are plenty of times I miss Target when we need a quick birthday gift for a last-minute party, or the choices available in a nice big Safeway. But I find we spend a lot less money on impulse purchases of stuff we don't need in those stores, too. Where we are, there's not four places to browse. There's one and if you're lucky they've got the thing. If you're not lucky you make do, do without, or try to find someone else who's got one you can borrow.

Good schools? Well, I work there and feel they do a pretty good job. With having to meet the needs of all the kids, low to high, it's hard for the teacher to serve everyone. I get frustrated with our parents who never check homework, never read with their kids or take them to the library, never come to conferences, never do much of anything except complain about how bad a job they think we're doing. I worked at schools in the city where things weren't any different. Small-town schools aren't necessarily lower in quality.

And we have lots of good "everything". At lunch we looked out the front window over the bog and got to see a red-tailed hawk hunting for his own lunch. For at least 15 minutes he dipped and swooped in the sun, giving us quite a show. Then we went outside in 65-degree weather, a real corker of an afternoon, and watched Pony Girl ride Honey in the big pasture. Now from my chair here I can see a bunch of ducks on the water hole and a heron wading at the edge looking for a fish. It's just quiet enough for me to hear the ocean roar every now and then.

At our old place I'd be looking out over four lanes of traffic, where it wasn't safe for the kids to play in the front yard. Loads of fast-food trash blowing down the street. And for sure at least three sirens would have screamed by our house during the course of the afternoon.

Would we give up what we've got to go back to that? Nope. Not even for Target.

What if you started a blog and nothing funny happened?

2009-01-16T15:56:00.000-08:00

Today is not just like any other day at the bog. There's the usual massive amount of laundry waiting in the hall, and the pony is giving me the fishy eye waiting to be fed, and there are piles of stuff waiting to be organized, but it's a special day. It's the birth of my blog.

All the usual questions are evident: What will it look like? Will it be funny? Will it be smart? Will people like it? Will it be easy and fun or a pain in the butt every day?

I've watched and lurked on others' blogs; I've laughed and cried at what they have written. Many times I've wished for a place to vent my frustrations, tell something funny, ask for advice outside of my small-town circle of friends. But was there time in my life for another thing? I finally had to admit that there had to be time for THIS thing; this thing for me.

So TA-DA! Today I took the plunge, started the blog, pictures and all, and....

Gee, nothing funny happened today. And it's after 4. There was a brief humorous conversation I had with Jones about where I would have to take his temperature if he wouldn't open his mouth or take off his shirt so I could get to his armpit...

But after all I'm just meeting some of you and don't want to be tacky first time out.

Maybe for today, just getting out here and saying "hi there" is enough. My family is hanging out behind me saying "We want to see the blog! Can we see the blog now?!"

So we'll see what tomorrow brings. For now, Happy Blog-day to me.

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As Seen on T.V.

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Hay!

Hurt

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The Resume Says TEACHER, Not Tree Removal Specialist...

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Excuse Me Ma'am, You Can't Bring That Hairy Thing In Here..

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Is It A 5-Slap Restaurant, Son?

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Wordless Wednesday

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My Son Slept With A Girl!

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Wordless Wednesday: Foul-Mouthed? #&$@% You!