Granola Mama 101

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like...

2009-12-13T16:18:00.000-08:00

... The bleak tundra of Alaska's North Pole! Seriously.... but without the snow, so a tundra-less tundra. Only just as cold. Which makes no sense now that I am typing that, but that's pretty much where I am at!!

It's been a wild and crazy month: moved into new house, cleaned old house, unpacked new house (with some help from friends and family - special thanks to the Diet Coke deliveries and Papa John's), had garage sale with Sister Lunch Lady (now that was fun, though she needs to be renamed Sister Molasses!!!), took both female Masses to a pageant (that is entirely another blog), ran #1 to various dance events, thankfully entertained Sister M'Bellish and her beautiful family for Turkey day, and kept up all the rest... including dog training and getting children to school and feeding them and washing their dirty nasty clothes... which makes me think of the new exciting dirty nasty things which we have discovered in this past month...

SO, we should start there: the dirty nasty things category. Yeah, you THINK you've smelled some really gross things, and you probably have, especially if you have a child on the verge of 'tweening'. And you will identify with me when I tell you there are few things as pungent as the stinky feet of a said 'child on the cusp'. One night after #1 finished with dance (one frozen night), I picked her up and engaged in the usual niceties of 'how was dance?' 'did you have fun?' 'what did you learn?' Which was suddenly and rudely interrupted with:

OMG!!!!!! WHAT IS THAT SMELL?????? GOOD HEAVENS???? DID SOMETHING DIE BACK THERE??? DID YOU FART???? WHAT DID YOU EAT????

THAT'S YOUR FEET??????????????????????

She had removed her shoes after 3 hours of intense dance, in the car, which was enclosed, and the heat was on high, as it was 2 degrees outside (therefore rolling down the windows was on the 'cons' list.) This had to be addressed!!!

We stopped immediately at the store and picked up some foot powder, foot spray, foot pads, foot wipes, foot perfume, foot mist, foot deodorizer. IT WAS ONE OF THE WORST THINGS I HAVE EVER SMELLED!!!!!!! Note: with four children and various pets, I have smelled a lot. THerefore, please believe me when I tell you this was abnormally BBAAAAADDDDDD!!!!!

We wiped and washed and sprayed and deodorized and fluffed and buffed and perfumed and talcum-ed, and frankly, it only works for a while. The Stank returns. Like a bad boyfriend, or ginormous zit. It's there... lurking beneath the leather of her dance shoes... just waiting to rear it's evil head!!!

And we both know it. And I'm ready... OK, not really, but what choice do I have??? And it could be worse.

And it has been.

Thanks to Fat Annie the Very Bad Dog.

And her great adventure with all things dead and rancid; it would be titled: Ways to Kill Yourself Through Nature - Your Dog's Intestinal Tract on Dead Festering Wild Game Dinner.

But that's gonna have to wait til next time - gotta go make a cute gingerbread house with my Southern Living kids (this oughta be REAL messy!!!!)!

Deep Thoughts

2009-10-26T19:32:00.000-07:00

Yes, it has been a while. And yes, I have been thinking blog-worthy thoughts; but, frankly, I have had little time, and little desire to blog after I offended someone. It was a big lesson for me. I never thought that many people cared or would read what I had to say, or rather think, and therefore, I expressed myself - and I tried to be funny, but that obviously flopped like and elephant on trapeze!!!

But I think it was good for me. As a writer, I expect to learn from each mistake. And learn I have. (and for all of you laughing that I fancy myself a writer, I am deeply offended) Anyway, I want to move on; and you want me too, too (grammatically, if that is incorrect keep it to yourself, please.).

So, I wanted to comment on the recent ad I saw at the Miley Cyrus Stripper Show. She had a new campaign going to 'Get Your Good On'. Interesting. Not the first one I've seen; don't forget the "Pass It Forward" campaign. And the many thousands I won't list to help our environment, help the needy, help the elderly, help ourselves. And all of these are GREAT!! Let me just say that upfront, so there is no confusion. I am all for helping, and being responsible, and going green, etc. But what has happened to our society when we have to be told to do good??

I'm not talking about a Good Samaritan event, here. I am talking about the every day little things we do to be polite and respectful to others, and ourselves. The things I watched my Grandaddy do for others without a second thought, because THAT WAS WHAT YOU DID - YOU TOOK CARE OF EACH OTHER. You didn't take advantage of one another, and if you did, well everyone knew; but people still cared to stop and help you fix your tire, because you were a part of their community, even if you were a little dishonest. People believed in each other; they believed that there was good in everyone; that we were all in this together; that you had to answer to a higher power for what you did... and it just might be your mama!!!! (she knew before you got home) People brought food when a baby was born, or when someone died, or when someone got married, or graduated... come on, this is the South, folks, and we are into our food!! But there was a sense of 'us', not 'we'.

I know all about generation X and Y and all that, but I want to tell you something, so listen well: we allow our children to develop a sense of unmitigated entitlement that is neither satisfiable by material goods or personal achievement. We tell them 'it's all about you', and give them whatever they want. We teach them to be unappreciative and blase about who they are inside - and they learn to care more about what they have. And as a Generation X'er, I know. I have watched countless friends that were so blessed growing up struggle as adults with who they are and where they are going now. Focusing on brand names and fancy cars and pricey jeans has taken the place of integrity, honesty, hard-work, and self-worth.

And now we are having to teach our children something different, something that will keep this world turning positively and without hate and war. And we don't know how. I was slightly offended by the campaign, because I believe I am teaching and doing this with my children and in my personal life; but perhaps I shouldn't be; perhaps I need to look at it as a way to reach those who are so desperately seeking some type of instructional manual to maneuver the rest of the way, or at least forward a step or two. Perhaps, I could be doing more too...

Kids say the darnedest things!

2009-09-06T11:08:00.001-07:00

Like that wasn't going to be an issue here! Well, this one is about my dear sweet Sister M'Bellish's child, who is a delightfully verbose and precocious 4 years of age. Which means that she says things that make you pee yourself laughing, or hang your head in shame, or simply examine your life wondering if God is using her to teach you something (which He probably is, and that goes for the shame thing too - but man, do I hate it when He uses my kids to teach me!) This story will focus on the former, and therefore I advise you to make a pit stop before you continue reading.

READY?? OK. Sister M'Bellish, like so many of us, is teaching her children the correct anatomical terms for body parts: lips, eyes, hair, knee, feet, toes, vagina, penis... you get the point. Well, it appears that for Child #2, these lessons have not been in vain!

I taught #1 to call her girly stuff her vagina, which in her child-speak came out 'China' - now that oughta make anyone reconsider the phrase "made in China"!!! We have friends that teach their daughters that theirs are 'monkeys', coochies, hoo-hoo's, v-jay-jay's, and other various terms, which no doubt have been passed down through the generations... or more likely made up on the spot at prompting from said child to know what 'this' is!!

So, our dear Sister's child has evolved one step further - it has a personality! Child#2 tells Mom one day that she is having a bad day. Her head hurts, she's tired and her vagina just isn't right today. Hence, the birth of the "Bad Vagina Day"! Who knew the girly goody of a 4 year-old was so sensitive??? Personally, I would have responded in a way to deflect the comment... just make it go away. But not Sister M'Bellish - she is too funny and clever!! she tells her daughter that it truly is a rough day when your vagina isn't quite right!!!!

I'LL PAUSE WHILE YOU LAUGH!!!!

I wish I were so clever - that is some really funny stuff!! But wait there's more!!! So, the other day in the car, dear Sister and her child are rockin' out to the ever-classic, 'Brick House', when Child #2 says that her vagina feels funny. Sister thinks to herself... could she have an irritation, a rash? So she asks Child#2 the pertinent questions to diagnose the problem. Child #2 denies any of those issues. Then, Child says, with index finger pointed up by her face as if to signify the lightbulb flickering on:

"I know what it is... it's movin' to the music!"

SOMEONE CALL AMERICA'S GOT TALENT - I THINK WE HAVE A WINNER!!!!

I would like to recommend that Sister M'Bellish keep her off motorcycles, bicycles, the washing machine, and anything else that might cause it to move to the music for a looooonnnnnnggggg time!!! Otherwise, there might be a lot of explaining to do!!

Oh, and Child #2 also thinks her brother has a 'peanut'....

Heavenly Angels Sang

2009-08-24T14:49:00.000-07:00

No matter how you view the start of school, there are those of us that view it as a true gift from the Good Lord Above! Yes, I love the Masses, and yes, I loved the summer with them... the whole summer... with them... together... all day... plus their friends....

So, I am happy to inform you that there are now three of the Masses enjoying the benefits and blessings of a very good public educational system here in our small yet booming Metropolis. And I would like to thank all those who make their public education possible - THANK YOU!!!! I admit, I really tapered off the blogging as summer wore on, as the masses frankly wore me out!!! We had fun, we had seasons in the sun, and now is the time for my favorite season of all - FALL!!!!!

I kicked off the fall with a nice pedi, and some new nails, which I do like ever so much (got 'em today!) And will start volunteering at the kindergarten on Wednesday, and thus begins the school year. Not a bad start. So far, I haven't had to force any to walk to school because they weren't ready, or forgotten to pick any one up... not bad... for now.

So what have you missed??? Well, #1 had a sleep-over with 10 of her 10 year-old friends, and I survived... barely!!!! And I made a quick trip to the Promised Land for a long weekend with the girls in the blessed city of San Antone... and I got to eat a little crow!! Yeah for me... well, except the crow part.

Seems that I have offended someone, and for that I apologize and take complete responsibility. Yes, it is dangerous to speak one's mind - THOUGH I TRY TO DO SO IN A JOKING FUN BELLY-LAUGHING WAY - someone may be listening. So, I apologize. Because I was wrong. And it is the right thing to do. And at least I know that I have that going for me... that and three of the Masses going to school AGAIN tomorrow! Later, ya'll... gotta go floss the 'crow' outta my teeth before I can get my funny on....

My New Regime

2009-07-19T11:47:00.000-07:00

There are few New Regimes in the Wilson Household: one has to do with the Masses and their slovenly, childish ways (and since they are children, it is appropriate for me to find ways to train them up to be less swine-like, and more human... like); the other is my workout. I routinely engage a Medieval Torture Specialist (twice weekly) and enjoy 5 to 6 cardio workouts per week. I am motivated. I am motivated to fit into the 'skinny' jeans; motivated by swimsuit season; motivated by seeing my glaring white flesh naked in the mirror... and yes, it is STILL white.

The Hub... not so much. So I found a great circuit training series that is very cardio in its approach - the best of all worlds in under an hour! He'll love it. He will be motivated to do it! He will grow old with me and not die early leaving me to put the faucet covers on outside or fend off endangered woodpeckers by myself!!

And he does love it!!

And he is doing it!!

One catch... I am there with him.

Squat after squat, fly after fly, push-up to push-up, I am there... sweating and silently cursing the peppy bimbo (though I am really certain she is a delightful person, for the sake of my sanity I prefer to pretend she is a Food Nazi who works out 14 hours a day and is genetically a mutant; this makes me happy... so work with it) who's directing each excrutiating move and exercise!! And because I am a creature of habit (translate: a little OCD), I continue along with my REGULAR EXERCISE PROGRAM IN ADDITION TO 'GI JANE"S BURN YOUR BUTT OFF MAKE A BIG GIRL CRY' workout!!!!!

In short... even my eyelashes hurt!!! Now, the Hub's been manning up and saying yeah, I'm sore, but not terribly so... like YOU (raising eyebrows at me). And if he'd said it without raising his eyebrows I might refrain from telling you this (might is a big 'maybe'): I heard him cry like a little girl trying to sit on the toilet the other day!!!!

OK, that was a little bit of an exaggeration. But It Was Funny!!!!!!

Amazingly, all this pain has me thinking: what if I get all buff and beautiful (hey, that could be a soap opera title...), and then 30 or 40 years from now, when I am old and wrinkly and sagging, I hear someone say "she was once a real looker, but now..." What good was all the torture??? Face it: it's going downhill, folks... I'm just trying to slow the ball down, know what I mean???

So, I have come up with a whole New Regime for thinking: (drum roll) I'm gonna try to maintain what I have so that 30 to 40 years from now people say, ''Why, you haven't changed a bit!!!!" Just think!!!! I could be the gal who is JUST THE SAME as she was when she was... well, younger!!!! No, she's really porked out since then, or her muscle tone is shot, or her jowls hag low... No sireee!!!! Not me!!!! I could wear the jeans then that I wear now... if they are fashionable, of course!!

This has revolutionized my life!!! I am free!!!!

Except the Hub is expecting to workout today...

Summertime

2009-07-09T05:29:00.000-07:00

The song from Porgy and Bess says the livin' is easy. Well, that's a BIG FAT LIE!!! I am totally exhausted!!! It's been soccer camp, and dance recital, and tennis, and art classes, and swimming, and laking... What happened to sleeping in? Taking it easy? Lazy days of summer?? I'd like to speak to the management!!

Oh, wait, I AM the management.

This isn't looking good...

It started last summer, with letting the Masses try some new things, which is great and it is a good time with no school work and all, to try new things. And it sure kept them busy and out of my hair, which was never brushed because I was too busy flying out of bed and out the door. And they had a great time, and really, so did I. Fast forward to 2009. And we are on the same schedule, or at least a similar one. But I started the summer worn out, because all the neat activities from LAST summer somehow became year-round activities, and therefore continued through last fall, winter, and this spring.... which means I haven't had a break. Hence, I feel like I've been hit with a Mack truck, carried on the grill for about 25 miles, and endured the desert heat, polar snows, and hurricane winds and rain,... all while being pelted by giant horned winged angry slow-to-die bugs from some science fiction novel with large stingers. And my hair still isn't brushed. And yes, I do own mirrors and know what I look like. I am too tired to care.

So, today may be the ONE day of R&R... except the boys had some friends spend the night (which is no problem), and they are already up and going STRONG downstairs.. and it was 7:20 when this started. AM. However, they are in for a BIIIIGGGG surprise: NAPTIME!!! YES! Today I will employ that good ol' summer tradition (lots of European and Central/ South American cultures have this sooooo right) of the afternoon nap, because frankly, I need one.

I just hope I can stay awake until then...

Bronze Goddess

2009-06-21T18:35:00.000-07:00

I know you've been on pins and needles since reading about my self-tanning efforts. By now, you are picturing me as a bronzed goddess, no doubt. And since I used the 'firming' self-tanner, you are no doubt imagining me as a lean, mean muscle machine as well. That's how I imagined the results myself. Twice a day, I slathered and dreamed, slathered and dreamed. I became so proficient that I could slather mirror-less, which was better for my mental health. The self-tanner and I developed a close relationship... I was worried the Hub would be jealous of my commitment to the tanner!

What is that statement? Oh yeah, 'tan fat looks better than white fat'.

For those of you that uttered this phrase, live it, or even remotely thought it... may you struck with a thousand oozing boils and a really bad zit!!! Bronze goddess? Nothing could be farther from the truth!!!!

I AM STILL WHITE!!!!!

So, now, white-boy Hub has recommended a spray-on tan, with bikini so I have tan lines... because he thinks that's 'cool'. And he's declared that he thinks he wants one too!

But I'm recommending he skip the bikini...

Fish and Family

2009-06-21T18:09:00.001-07:00

We had house guests this week: three young British (one was Polish, but lives in Britain) Challenger Soccer Camp coaches. Never met them. Delightful folks. Took them to the lake a few times, cooked, supped, shared some good times, and got to know one another. Such a neat program that Challenger runs so that kids benefit from a great soccer camp, and these young adults get to travel the US, and make a little cash as well. They get to eat with their hosts and have a warm bed - cuts down on their costs significantly!

They were here a week. Very unusual for us to have house guests for a week. Now a days, our schedules are so packed that 'we' generally only have a long weekend or 'a few' days to spend with family and friends. We are too busy. And this week was a classic example of busy - but that isn't what this was about.

These coaches were fabulous house guests. Polite, grateful, and very chilled - and they really liked the Masses... in fact, Neva Kate has found herself a man!!! She really took to our Polish friend, and him to her; alas, it isn't to be, as he has a girlfriend, and is much too old for her....

The whole visit got me to thinking: why am I able to tolerate complete strangers in a relaxed, happy manner, but not my own family? Seriously. If this had been DOD or Sybil, I'd have slit my wrists and dove into ring of sharks!! A week with my family?? There is not enough Diet Coke in the state to get me through that - and I know because we've done this before!!!

Could it be that we have so much baggage that I wonder when the train will lurch and it will come crashing from the overhead bin right onto me? Yes. And most likely is. I tread a fine line with Sybil - you never know who you're getting (please see previous blog about Sybil, or blogs)! And I do worry about DOD, and his various annoying habits... such as constantly talking about what he wants to talk about (mainly himself) which we've already covered at least 15 times since he arrived (this is NOT an exaggeration). I count the hours until they leave... OK, I'm lying... I count the minutes!! And yet, out of guilt for feeling this way when all the movies in the world say I should feel warm fuzzies toward the fam, I let them come. And they do. And they are. This summer. Because I am powerless in my guilt to stop them. And therefore am questioning my decision to NOT install a fountain drink machine in the new house.

I have no immediate solution to this problem, except moving without telling them, and the Hub said I couldn't do that.... My cousin is coming this summer, too, and I adore her, and am quite thrilled and very happy and excited - no worries... only fun to come!!! But that smile turns upside down when I hear the others may be headed east of Texas, and I suddenly get the desire to join WitSec; really no good if the Hub is gonna rat me out, though.

So, today, we said good luck and farewell to our new friends, and sent them on their way.... Sure would love to see them again. Sure wish I felt this way about DOD and Sybil.

Perhaps we are related somehow....

My White Legs

2009-06-02T18:27:00.000-07:00

I want to make a dangerous statement, that in NO WAY is meant to racist, or racy: I am a white girl. My legs are white, my butt is white, my arms are white... I am white. I was white when born, and have been except for a few years when I tried to lay-out and get a tan: this for me consisted of one hour of prep for about 30 minutes of sun time; I hadn't had hair removal yet, and I get bored easily. I tried a tanning booth for two months, but found it too much like a very unmotivated dating relationship that left my skin smelling funny; this was not for me.

I was white when the Hub married me; white for the past 13 years of marriage. White today. But, recently (for the past 13 years or so) the Hub has been making noises about how he thinks it would be sexy for me to get a spray tan, or self-tanner. And he mentioned something to Sister Lunch Lady, too. So, I decided to take him seriously. And try to do something about being white.

I am sitting here, buck-nekkid under my bath robe, trying to recover without alcohol from the shock of seeing myself naked not once but twice now, as I slathered self-tanning lotion on my whole body. My vision is blurry, and I can't remember the names of my children! I almost passed out during the back of the thigh area!!! All this in pursuit of some color. That the Hub thinks he'll find sexy. Well, sitting here for 'several minutes before dressing' with a look out of a horror movie plastered on my face (imagine talking-severed-head-glaring-at-you-scared face) ain't particularly sexy, folks!

All this has led me to believe that we should have fewer, and smaller... MUCH smaller, mirrors. I, for one, could care less about what color I am, or anyone else. I think, live and let live. And I am too lazy to care if my legs can reflect rays from outer space. This is how I was made. I'm stuck with it. Or am I? I suppose in light of my recent blog about hair removal and vein zapping that I am a ginormous hypocrite for NOT doing something about the glow-in-the-dark properties of my extremities!!! In fact, I suppose the horror of my nakedness reflected back at me, which surpasses the intense pain of abdominal surgery, rings in with 'painful to be pretty'. Of course, after what I witnessed today, I think pretty is terrifying!!! But, I will continue to slather and color, and slather some more... only now, I think I can do it without a mirror.

But, I will have that wine now....

Day dream believers

2009-05-28T17:02:00.000-07:00

And Homecoming Queens... of which I never was one! So, today I am thinking of all the things I thought I wanted to do someday, and all the things, I have done, and am planning, and wondering if I am fulfilling God's great plan for my life. Nothing deep, you know, the usual!

I would never have guessed I'd end up the mother of four children, and some days I pretend they belong to someone else (esp. in Walmart, or at the Olive Garden in Branson the other day) - but I am always so grateful for them when I watch them sleeping, and hear them laughing, and realize that I could have chosen something so different.

I thought I wanted to be a secret agent with the FBI, or CIA; until I learned that I'd have to be OK with sneaking around in the dark... and my deeply rooted fear of the dark won out. Then, maybe and archeologist; that too went by the wayside after I learned about the bugs and the dirt and the digging in it... yea, not for me so much.

Next, I decided that I would love to be a recording artist. And for this I had the talent. But my parents talked me out of majoring in music, and told me they wouldn't pay for me to do that (big decision maker there) because they were afraid I'd fail and starve... or worse, move home. Love and support. BUt I don't blame them. I think I should thank them! After all, I decided to go into nutrition, and there begins the love story of me and the Hub. (This was a brief summary of my formative years... very brief; but the highlights!) And with that, four kids.

Pretty amazing for just an ordinary gal. Which makes me wonder why I still feel like there is something I am supposed to be doing (besides laundry). Yet, I am so clueless as to what that is! Should I be a writer? (well, you're reading this...) Should I start a business? (please, no!) What is it that I am supposed to be doing? (again with the laundry comment? you have a one tract mind!) I'm not sure, but I'm keeping my options open.

And going to start the laundry, already!

Much Ado About Nothing

2009-05-28T10:19:00.000-07:00

I'd like to preface this blog with the statement: I am not really that much of a Shakespeare fan. And this has not much to do with Shakespeare, other than the use of his title. This blog is about nothing. That's correct: nothing. There are several types of nothing. Yes, there are. Think about it. Or, I'll save you the brain cells and explain 'em.

1)Nothing. This is what you say on an average day to a friend's inquiry of "whatcha doing?" "oh, nothing." Or, "nothing much." this means that you aren't doing anything out of the ordinary or worth wasting your breath and their time talking about.

2) Nu-thiiiinn... This is what your kids say when you hear a strange noise like the cat being loaded into the dryer, or eggs frying on the stove and you call out 'what's that noise?' or "what are you doing?' Their answer: nu-thiiiinn (in a little sing-song voice). It usually means something, and specifically something really bad, and you'd better get off your hiney and hustle in there before the smoke alarm goes off, missy!! (no personal experience here - pure speculation)

3) Nothing. Be careful not to confuse this nothing with #1, as they are VERY different! #1 means you are doing something... this nothing means you are doing nothing.... Nothing that uses any brain waves, voluntary or involuntary, no actual work or function other than that of breathing. This 'nothing' is the most elusive, because the minute you start to tell someone about it, well, there it goes! You're doing something, and thus nothing is very over! Watching TV? Nope, that's something - watching TV! Duh! Sleeping? Nope! That in itself is a definable action. Blogging? Still definable... starting to get it?

Thus, when one says one is doing nothing, it is safest to assume he/ she is actually performing rote, daily tasks so mundane they'd snooze the brain off a sloth! To be doing actually #3 nothing is a real challenge, and should not be undertaken by your average individual. Leave this up to the professionals!!! And today I had the pleasure of talking with one such professional who braggingly shared with me - once she had finished doing #3 nothing - that she'd been doing #3 nothing and would be going back to #3 nothing after her phone break with me! I was humbled and astonished to be graced by such greatness! I myself spend the majority of my time doing #1 nothing in pursuit of caring for my family and home, and had to bask in her... well... nothing-ness! I had no idea we had this kind of talent here!!

Do you think she offers seminars???? Gotta go do something....

(NOTE: this is written completely tongue-in-cheek, MY tongue in MY cheek!! I applaud those who eek out a little peace and quiet once or twice a month in order to maintain sanity... you see why I am not, therefore, sane...)

Bidets and Other THings We Never Talk About

2009-05-21T20:39:00.000-07:00

Now, I don't know the last time you had a conversation about your toilet, or toilet-ing accessories, but there is a thing, used mainly in Europe, but in some homes here in the US, known as a bidet. We'll pause for a moment while you google the dictionary and look it up... go ahead... no, really,... go ahead. I'd prefer to wait than try to explain it. Got it? Good!!! Wait a minute... are you too lazy to google or go to wikipedia, which if you google you can find an 8-step how to use a bidet... very handy!!! Alright, here's the definition: 'a low-mounted plumbing fixture or sink intended for washing the genitalia, inner buttocks, or anus. ' Really. GO to wikipedia, and that's what is says... word. for. word. Bluntly: it sprays water on your privates to clean 'em off after using the restroom.

Well, I rarely have the luxury of using the restroom by myself, what with four children, two dogs, and the Hub; someone is either outside the door talking to me, or crying to the point that I take her blankie-toting -16 month-redheaded-baby-self and plop her on my lap. If she can't handle the stench, she'll figure out how to leave, amen? This particular day (2 days ago, to be exact), Stella decided to join the fun - and what a party it was! Me, the baby, the dog, and the pooper... riveting. When what to my wondering senses occurred than the wee little doggie sniffing my behind (which means she was standing with her paws on the toilet seat, thus enabling her to attempt to cold-wet-nose my tushy out of the way so she could get a better whiff!!)!! I shooed her away... but this was temporary, as apparently the heightened senses of the canine allow them to pick out the more... uh, pleasant and favorable scents,... and she moved to a new tactic:

SHE STARTED LICKING MY BEHIND!!! THE PART JUST ABOVE THE SEAT!!!! REALLY!!!!

In one swift (oh, and I DO mean S.W.I.F.T.) I swatted her down, chucked the baby safely and gently to the floor, and hitched my skivvies back into place!! That was the end of that, my friends!!!

But, apparently, Stella took that as an open invitation to barge in and grab a 'whiff and lick' anytime, as the minute I head to the potty... click click click... here she comes!! I have to race to shut the door - and sometimes I just want to wash my hands for cryin' out loud!! Not to mention the PTSD - I'm getting a little jumpy just thinking about the fact that my bladder is ready to build a canoe and launch itself!! What to do??? Oh, what to do???

For starters, I may need therapy... or is it the dog? So, I relay the story to Sister Sassy Loope, who in her characteristic glass half-full manner gives me good advice: who needs a bidet when one has a bidog!!!!

All about Bears

2009-05-20T18:59:00.000-07:00

OK, so this blog really has nothing to do with bears, but I couldn't think of a better title. What it has to do with is specifically the colloquial sayings that over generations and geography have become a part of who we are, and how they are passed on. More specifically, one saying which I had the delightful opportunity to lend my ear to today, and haven't stopped laughing!!

"I'm so hungry I could eat the ass off a bear!!!"

YES!!! That is REALLY what I heard someone say today, and she knows who she is!!! That inspired me to go home and fix myself a plate-o-food lest a dingleberry-bearing, furry, nasty, smelly ol' bear behind look the least little bit appetizing!!! Right after I called just about everyone I have a number for to tell 'em about this descriptive, exciting, creative way to describe the rib-gnawing hunger from dieting!!

In fact, if you are THAT hungry, and I doubt even Bear Grylls has ever been that hungry, and he eats all sorts of nasty ... well, crap... go get yourself a Big Mac and Fries and ditch the stupid diet!!! And if you are into eating bear booty, are you picky? Is it grizzly versus black bear? Are pandas more tender than a brown bear? (I bet Panda would be really high dollar, actually.) Does age matter? I would think so... using veal as a guideline here. Butt tartar? Butt burgers?? Ooooh, you could go exotic and have polar bear (just don't eat the liver - it'll kill you from vitamin A toxicity)! And that leads me to the all important question...

How exactly do you think the BEAR feels about this???

Now, I realize all of this is a bit frivolous in light of starving people in the world (and I bet they'd eat some bear hiney all right!), global warming, and the crashing economy, but one has to take time to laugh, especially at our selves, and most of all, at our friends!!!! I mean, why else keep 'em around, right? And that got me to thinking (shocking and dangerous, both)... what sayings are slipping out of YOUR mouth?? Share them with me!!

Well, gotta go pee like a racehorse....

(NOTE: Again, I have used some inappropriate, foul language. I was quoting someone, and feel that I should not be charged as guilty for such quote. I am responsible for the times that I choose to use this word in employing the above statement, though I think that seeing as it is a colloquial saying, it ought to count as a heritage thing, and therefore not require absolution. As for the 'c-r-a-p' word, please see my note about that on a previous blog. Thank you.)

May I See Some ID, Please?

2009-05-16T19:03:00.000-07:00

Oh, how I love to hear those words, in the appropriate setting, which is almost anytime other than being pulled over for speeding (which has not happened in quite some time, and that I am very thankful for!) Yes, today I was carded again! No, I don't frequent the package store THAT much, but when a nice glass of Chardonnay would accompany the meal, well, I do stop in and grab a stash. Hence, this story.

So, I went to Jack's Package, which has a nicely stocked wine room, and chose a few bottles (I pick some I know I like, and then employ my spectacular new system that Food & Wine ought to publish: I pick names and labels I like! It's the wine room, ain't nothing bad in there!!). I approached the counter, and proceeded to check-out. I handed my debit card to the young whipper-snapper (meaning probably just 22) behind the counter, and low and behold!! He asked to see my ID!! Now, I will confess that after a little wallet theft incident at my sons 2nd birthday party, I have written 'please see ID' on the back, but they don't always ask... like in Italy, where they can't read what I wrote; in some cases, I fear that the cashier can't read.

So, I happily told him that if he'd have asked to see it without looking on the back, I might have been so happy I'd have come across the counter and kissed him (which I might have - I can get really happy)! Well, when I entered the store there was no one there; but by now, apparently there had developed a line (5 to 6 people) behind me... and several were women. One lady spoke up and said she'd love to see that, and could we try this again; so, I said, well... (pause) OK!!! Next thing I know my New Favorite Best Friend says he was gonna ask to see it anyway!!! I decided then and there to not judge him harshly for his youth or piercings or tats!! (note: 'tats' is slang for tattoos. I am not sure how to spell the slang, so go with it, OK!)

This was a man with discerning qualities, a man wise beyond his years, a man with appreciation for the finer things in life! Why, I bet he enjoys the symphony and ballet, and certainly can identify a real Armani at a glance. Yes, this fella is going somewhere!!! I wouldn't be surprised to hear he speaks multiple languages, and has traveled the world, lived in a monastery for a week or two, and stayed amongst the indigenous people along the Amazon River. Most likely, he is an accomplished photographer, and holds several degrees from well-respected universities world-wide! He's the kind of person you always invite to dinner parties because they can converse with anyone about anything, from your grandmother (who would worship the ground he walked on and giggle like a schoolgirl) to the President of the United States!!!

Or, he could have just been hoping for a tip...

An Apple a Day

2009-05-14T18:09:00.000-07:00

Some days my titles just crack me up!! Yes, this is the Apple Lady story, and no she doesn't live down the lane... she lives in Dallas. I have a tendency to develop a real, personal relationship with customer service for any corporation I am forced at gun point to call ( or b/c my iPhone is dead and spiritually in heaven). And this is not because I am such a friendly gal, which I am, but because I have a house full of living objects that require little to no attention unless I have a phone receiver up to my ear in an active conversation, and then they are all bleeding, dying, maimed, missing a body part, or on fire... or all of the above... simultaneously.

The conversation I am about to relay to you took place over a remarkable short time span (despite the illusion that it could have taken much longer) of approximately 9 (nine) minutes:

(following general greetings and explanation of now heavenly iPhone our conversation went something like this - please note that I had #3 and#4, who are 5 and 1 respectively, home)

ME: Could you hold on for just a moment (#4 is now wailing like a police siren in my ear, and therefore her ear; I did not get her name because of the sirens)? I am so sorry, but I'll get her some milk, and then she'll feel better. I don't think she feels too great!

HER: oh, sure I understand I have children too!

ME: Thank you. So, as I was saying, did my husband happen to purchase the insurance plan?

(enter 5 y/o begging for food... again ; picture my hand in the universal stop sign, mouthing that I am busy)

Him: Can I get something to eat? Some cheese? some crackers? I don't want grapes... how about a cookie? Why not...

ME: I'm sorry, again. (covering phone) No cookies. You may have cheese... (going to fridge, getting cheese... opening). OK (I say to Mrs. Dallas)

HER: (she is talking but I hear nothing as an entire fleet of tanks now rolls down the hardwood floors into the kitchen, followed by the grinning, cheese-filled five year old. He is quite proud of his new army, and rolls it the other way... and back again... the house is shaking from the noise - we've exceeded tolerable decibels)

ME: I am sooo sorry, but I seem to be having a little trouble communicating with my 5 y/o!

HER: oh, I know all about that! My oldest is hard-headed!

ME: Well, I almost put this one out at the curb last week with a sign that said 'Free to Good Home'! (we are both laughing and exchange a few more kid stories - we could have lunch!)

HER: Do you want to express the new phone?

ME: Yes, and yes, you may get out a hamster (to #3).

HER: Oh, you have hamsters?

ME: Yep. Three dwarf hamsters, and two dogs. And the four kids.

HER: Are the hamsters all one gender?

ME: (chuckling) Oh, no. We thought we had three males, only to discover that one was female when she had a litter... and ate them; she then had another litter, which by the way was fathered by her brother. Funny thing, all the incestuous offspring have died off, and we have the original three, separated of course!

HER: Wow! Do you ever put them together?

ME: No! Except recently the boys did, and thought it hysterical that they were 'wrestling'! I had to intervene rapidly!! (we laugh together... we are thinking that perhaps an afternoon of shopping would be great! I am now walking down the hallway to the office where #3 has shut the door and is being V-E-R-Y quiet; #4 is banging on the door...)

ME: Oh, my, honey!! You can't do that to the hammie!! Oh, heavens, Aidan! Don't push him!!! STOP!! You're hurting him! Here give it to me... give me the whole thing... the cage, baby... not the truck! Oh, Good LORD! (I take the safari truck with accessorizing cage featuring the trauma of the day: Fuzzy is stuck halfway in, halfway out of the cage. He doesn't appear to be too thrilled with wearing the safari truck's cage. At this point as I carry the hamster and said cage down the hall, I remember that Mrs. Dallas is on the line, thinking we are crazy! I now explain what has happened)

ME.... I shouldn't be surprised after my house was broken into, for the third time, this morning!

HER: Oh, MY!! Is the hamster OK?

ME: Oh, yea, look - he's unstuck! I'll go put him away!

HER: ... You'll just mark the box and return blahblahblah...

(enter said 5 y/o AGAIN bawling at the top of his lungs about having nearly killed his hammie)

ME: It's OK, sweetie (I coo); Mommy put him back in his cage. I think he needs a little rest, OK? (now #4 enters the kitchen... it's like a crying parade! I bend to pick her up, and she snags my car keys, unbeknownst to me)

HER:... and the postage will be covered already; just be sure to return your old phone in 10 days... is that your house alarm????

(the car alarm is now deafeningly blaring in the garage - the baby has pushed the panic button. She is now screaming from fright, drops the keys, and hides in my shoulder! I am now hysterically laughing! Or crying! I'm not sure which!!)

ME: No Ma'am! The baby set off the car alarm!!!

HER: Is there anything I can help you with???? (padded cell, therapist, full-time nanny???)

ME: You could come be my full-time nanny?!?! (silence from her) Nope. Just need a lot of Jesus and DIET COKE!!!

I know what she did on her break: she took that phone conversation 'which may be recorded for quality assurance', and replayed that bad boy for the whole office!!! Now everyone in Dallas thinks this poor Texas girl is stuck in Looneyville, Arkansas breeding incestuous hamster offspring, or WORSE, drinking Diet Coke (spiked, no doubt) and belongs to some weird religious cult centered around sirens!! Heaven help me!

From now on I'm using email.

Alien Invasion

2009-05-13T19:14:00.000-07:00

Yes, Monday marked the THIRD time someone, who shall hence forth be known as the Intruder - gender non-specific, attempted to enter my home. The Intruder apparently has the uncanny knack for striking when I an conveniently, and thankfully gone, or they are watching me. I find the latter a very disconcerting possibility, and have now taken to wearing multiple layers of clothes; drawback is that I now look ten pounds overweight! To think it isn't enough to feel my home has been violated; NO! I must feel fat too! I think this person should be caught and sentenced to tread water in a thong four sizes too small with an audience of professional comedians making pot-shots... yea, that sounds good!!!

But I digress. My real reason to blog tonight, despite the fact that this is my blog, and I spent one hour talking non-stop to the Hub who patiently endured my logorrhea secondary to the death of the iPhone, and for the sake of my marriage and the Hub's sanity... well, I gotta get this off my chest (still waiting on the return of the Girls... anyone seen 'em??).

Every person I have told or retold the story to asks me the same insane question:

WAS YOUR DOOR LOCKED?

I find this completely the most ridiculous question EVER! It implies that if for some reason you don't lock your door, you are more than happy... in fact, it is an open invitation for some stranger with friends, potentially, to just walk right on into the place of your dwelling... your humble abode, and help themselves to your crap !!!* ( Please see disclaimer about this word in a previous blog) In fact, if you don't lock your door, you should just expect it!!!

WHERE IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY AND RIGHT DID THIS MENTALITY COME FROM? This is MY HOUSE (NOTE: the yard is the Hub's, the house is mine; this was agreed upon in 'the beginning', and he likes it just fine, thank you very much.). NO ONE COMES OR GOES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. I DO NOT NEED TO LOCK MY DOOR TO BLOW YOUR TRESPASSING SELF TO KINGDOM COME FOR COMING INTO MY HOME UNINVITED!!! I have an alarm so that I don't have to pack heat, and so that if some trespasser chooses to BREAK THE LAW, and decide today is a good day to be STUPID (ooooh, the 'S' word) and try to get themselves arrested, we can happily oblige, courtesy of the Mountain Home Police Department!!! I have an alarm so that I can leave my home and, oh I don't know, take my children to school or the doctor, and come home without meeting someone new in a potentially threatening environment, thus scarring me for life and requiring me to live in a padded cell (which the Apple Service lady already thinks I need... 'nother story.)!

Now, just in case someone thinks after all these attempted break-ins that I have something fabulous and expensive in my home, let me remind you who I live with: 3 dwarf hamsters, two dogs, 4 (FOUR, four, f-o-u-r) kids under the age of 10, and one Hub. I have nothing of value to anyone but us; we have Little Tikes, Fisher Price, Hot Wheels, Imaginext, Bakugans, American Girl, Legos, and various other toy brands you will not find at Tiffany's!! My priceless artwork consists of photos of my children and their pictures and paintings for me. To me these ARE priceless... but I doubt if anyone else (grandparents excluded) would want these nearly as much as I do. So, I have to ask myself, and the Intruder, what the heck do you want? I find myself at a cross-roads: I have never felt threatened living here, and yet now I feel like breaking out the 380 automatic and taking a little practice in one afternoon soon.

We live in a beautiful town, with very little crime considering, but with the economy (the scapegoat for all things unholy and just plain wrong) I fear we may see more of this... I just don't want to see it in my neighborhood. So, tomorrow, after I lock the doors, set the alarm, and take the kids to school, I'll be asking the men and women on the MH police force to please patrol my area, specifically around the documented times of intrusion. Oh, we'll get you, you Intruder, and your little doggie too!!!!! (wicked witch cackle here)

Well, I'm too tired to tell you about the dead iPhone and my insane phone call to Apple... but I be I'll be feelin' perky after a good night's rest... so stay tuned!!!!

The Road to Pretty is Paved in Pain

2009-05-07T17:58:00.000-07:00

So, I am in the shower this evening scrubbing off the tape wads (gooey stuff left on the skin from medical/ paper tape or band-aids) when it occurs to me that Mom's words were really true: it's painful to be pretty! What started as some laser hair removal (courtesy of Wilson Aesthetics, 870-425-3737) has moved to some vein removal (again,Wilson Aesthetics ); I 've had them shot down, and now zapped with a laser in order erase, or at least reduce, the signs that four full-term pregnancies have left on my legs! And frankly folks, it is painful!!! But I want to look at my gams without wondering where the capital is and which highway gets there fastest!!

I say this not to discourage you, but to warn you that the results are great, but, CRAP! It hurts!!! (Please note: some people do not consider crap a curse word, merely a descriptive term, or noun; in my house growing up, it was one of many on the verboten list. For the sake of this blog, I may use it to indicate strong feelings or emphasis. I am truly sorry if it offends; I kinda prefer it to other words I could say, and just ask God to forgive me when I use it - or any other - word. God is not surprised that I am a sinner. Really. For those of you that don't care, I'm greatly relieved that you find this side note a waste of time.) Anyone that's ever had their bikini area waxed (yes, I have) can tell you some of this stuff is medieval and cruel! And yes, I will still do it, in order to wear a skirt that doesn't skim the ground sometime in my future!!!

It is nothing unusual to starve, over-exercise, nip, tuck, lift, suck, augment, reduce, abrade, peel, wax, color, fade, inject, and plump our way to ideal beauty. Which leads me to the all important question: who decides what beauty is?

Years ago, as I watched God heal me from an eating disorder that had consumed most of my life, I realized that the outer beauty meant nothing to God; He's after the inner kind. My focus on my reflection had led to an obsessed, driven, jealous, miserable person. Sure, there were extenuating circumstances that influenced my problem, but I believe God had a better way to handle it than I did! So, I stopped reading Glamour, Vogue, Skinny Models R Us, etc. in an effort to better actualize what God really has in store for me when He said healthy and beautiful (... still working on it, folks!). Now, I am not condemning anyone who reads these magazines or has procedures done to look better and feel better about themselves, because I have (well, duh! you know a-l-l-l about my hairy, veiny problems!) The body is a temple; I'd like mine to look less like it was in the path of a tsunami!

I WILL HAVE THESE UGLY VEINS ZAPPED B/C I HATE THE WAY THEY LOOK!!!!

And I don't ever want to shave again, really. So, I will go for hair removal (really, genetics played a cruel, cruel trick on me!) I wouldn't mind having my boobs back, either (have you seen them? If you do, catch them, box 'em up and deliver them under armed guard... they are very sneaky...). But that involves pain, and I am not really fond of pain, hence this blog. I think a little botox might be OK. As long as we keep our perspective. Are we beautiful to God, and is that our priority? Our daughters are watching!!

So, while I thought about what to write tonight, in the shower, I heard *The Hub clapping... thought one of the Masses' had done something great. Imagine how startled I was to look up and see him peeking into the bathroom at ME in the shower! That's right... he was applauding ME!! Now that, ladies and gents, is beauty...

*this actually happened; he probably needs new glasses, and the shower door IS frosted, but I think he's the greatest guy - despite some of the incredibly mind-numbingly dumb things he does sometimes!

Our wee little doggie, Miss Stella Rose

2009-05-02T14:34:00.001-07:00

I thought my next fur baby would be a little Shih Tzu, a successor to Rainey (Satan Incarnate/ Mr. Pee-Body) in physical form, just with a new and improved personality. Apparently, I was wrong.

I feel like I say that last phrase a lot... says a lot about me, now doesn't it? Anyway, I digress.... My BFF Sister Scout wove a tangled web all right, and I ended up with a Chihuahua pup (10 months) about 12 days ago. She went to buy one for herself... please note that I was NOT PRESENT... and ended up with two, hence the panicked phone call, and threats to reveal my deepest, darkest secrets, or worse, terminate or friendship all together, unless I came to get the dog.

I let her sweat... then drove out there.

Miss Stella Rose is the epitome of a little lady: quiet, sweet, mannerly, potty-trained, and loving to all the children. And BFF is still the BFF; crisis averted.

I told the Hub that it was a necessary move given my options, and that if I hadn't taken Stella, then he'd have to talk to me all day about the same mundane things over and over, and it would ruin the mystery in our relationship, thus leading to general dissatisfaction with one another and our marriage, and ultimately divorce!! And it would be all his fault because he didn't want another dog right now! Did he think he could live with the single-handed death of our love??? Could he look his innocent wide-eyed, trusting children in the face and tell them it was all his fault??????

He looked at me with the same tolerant gaze I have come to know for the past thirteen years of marriage, meaning "aren't you just the most adorable, creative, big-hearted, sweet woman, and isn't it great on your behalf that I love and adore you and tolerate all your crazy antics??"

So, Stella Rose is sitting in my lap, adorned in a blingy collar with her name on it, and snoozing quite comfortably; I'd say she's adjusting quite well. So is the Hub... :)

The Legend of the Box People

2009-05-02T10:44:00.000-07:00

Aaah, the mysterious legend of the Box People. An amazing story, truly exciting edge-of-the-seat, nail-biting suspense! Never heard of it? What, you live under a rock?? OK, so maybe I made it up. But it is good, and no doubt you know some Box People!

Box People are just what they sound like: they do not 'think outside the box' ( not to be confused with 'out of the closet' - completely different concept here). They only interact with people like themselves, that adhere to an often spoken code (usually best understood in their jibes at unboxed people - done behind their backs, of course), that dress like them, and think like them, and eat like them, and exercise like them, and drive cars like them. They do not readily accept new people into the Box that do not act appropriately to their preconceived and pre-appointed station ( appointed by none other than the Box People themselves). In short, they only like their own kind, stick to their own kind... sorry channelling West Side Story (humming)...

And you know Box People; you live next to them, or with them, go to work or school with them; you see them at church, in town, at the gym. They are nice to you, cheerful and engaging even...

BUT BEWARE!!!!

Behind your back, they are talking about you, speculating, dishin' about your outfit and your muffin top, taking apart every word you said... and interpreting it based on past information the Poison Ivy Vine has passed around, true or false. Yep, if you aren't one of them, they know it, and you are fair game!!!!

Which makes everyday life exciting! Sure, you could hole up in your house and become a recluse, but why??? I figure, if they wanna talk, give em sumpin' to talk about (oh, soooo channelling Bonnie Raitt right now!!!) Nothing like spicing up the Poison Ivy Vine with a little tall Texas tale of your own... where I come from this is called embellishing.

Now, those of you that know me KNOW that I don't need to embellish at all!! This stuff REALLY happens to me, and I do wonder what that says about me and my karma (though I am not really into Karma - that'd keep you at home thinking the universe was against ya, all right!!!) But if you need to borrow a story, well, that 's OK too... just be sure to give credit where credit is due. And use a good codename... hence the Box People...

Confession Time

2009-05-01T12:51:00.001-07:00

Yes, I have been enjoying Crackbook too much. I miss my prose outlet, and I bet you miss my 'funny'!!! Well, we are fast approaching summer; this means we have to lay down some rules, guidelines, do's and don'ts. So, I took the opPortunity a few weeks ago to broach the subject with he Masses: God did not put me on this earth to run you over to your friends' houses, or host them all endlessly from the time the school bell rings for the summer 'til it rings in August!

THEY WERE SHOCKED, TO SAY THE LEAST!

I had to ask myself what it was exactly that originally gave my children the idea that I was their personal chauffeur and servant (let's leave the Christian perspective of servanthood on the side plate... it is NOT referring to me being their slave...). I dread Friday afternoons simply because my 7 year-old son knows this is when he can have a play date... if we can still call it that, him being seven and all. And then it's all day Saturday and Sunday: "Can I have a friend over? Can I go to someone's house??" And my personal favorite (and yours too): 'I'm bored; I wouldn't be if I had someone to play with!"

I'd like to invite you to my home at this time to review the number of people and pets that dwell here (daily): Me, The Hub, #1, #2, #3, #4, two dogs (that's a story too), and three hamsters. There isn't enough oxygen in my house for very many more living breathing beings! In fact, we are building a house so that all the breathing beings have more air!!!

So, I went over the rules... which I had very little trouble coming up with, but I'm sure could use some tweaking. They are as follows:

1. You will get up and get dressed (clothes, hair, teeth brushed, breakfast) by 9 am daily.

2. You will make bed daily.

3. You will tidy-up: pick up jammies and put in laundry, wipe toothpaste off sink, put away clean clothes, and shoes, clear dishes from the table.

4. You will then willingly and joyfully complete any chores Mom should give you, simply out of thanks to the Lord Our God that He has given you a place to live, sleep, eat, and a loving family to do all those things with.

5. You will not play daily with a friend, so don't ask; if you want someone to play with, God has given you siblings. If your father and I had wanted you to be bored and lonely we would have stopped with one child!

6. You will do some school work daily so that your brain doesn't turn to mush, and so that the baby can nap.

7. You will read, read, and read this summer; there will be an incentive program, and NO, I don't know what it is yet.

8. You will not fight with your siblings more than once a day - that's all you get, so pick your battle wisely. Also, be aware that I will be settling that battle, and both parties could lose big at any time...

9. One hour of TV daily, tops. Only exception is if you are sick and unable to get out of bed.

These are just a few that I rattled off... but should you come up with any ideas, I sure would be happy to add them on!!!

That said, I just informed #2 that he could go outside and play with his brother; #3 was told that if he didn't want to play with the toys downstairs PLEASE let me know as I'd like to reduce the crap factor in our house!!! #1 is watching TV, and her hour is almost up!!! #4 is napping...

WELCOME TO GRANOLA MAMA KATIE'S BOOT CAMP, BOYS AND GIRLS!!!

And Sybil Called

2009-04-13T17:40:00.000-07:00

Yep. It was just a temporary job for dear Sybil, over with the end of tax season. She was very chatty for 30 mind-numbing minutes today, and I wondered where the Flarp EB (Easter Bunny) brought had disappeared to - I needed a little quick entertainment! Somehow we managed to segue into the subject of storage space and the lack of in her current home, of five or six years.

Sure. Boring. And you think it couldn't be that bad. Oh, foolish youth, for you are wrong!!!

We took a wee little 12 mile hike (uphill, both ways) down memory lane to mentally picture and tour each and every one of her former residences and TOGETHER review their more than adequate space. Compared to her house now, there is no comparison; this one's a dud in the storage department. And there is a whole host of other disappointments in this house, though it is large and spaceous with a delightful layout. But there is one problem. WE are building a house... that WE designed... that WE will love...

and she is not.

Thus she has found renewed fervor in her days of unemployment - torturing me with how much more difficult her life is than, say, anyone else's on the face of this or any planet sustaining life!! And she knows this game well, for she is the Inventor and Perfecter of this game! She owns it, and I do mean OWN!!

I tried one time (OK, like for almost eight or nine years, seriously) to convince Sybil that her life IS so much more blessed than people living in third world countries* with unclean water, children dying from diseases we can immunize against, people dying of starvation and at the hands of merciless guerrilla warriors fighting for their cause at the cost of innocent lives... I'd think (and so would any other reasonable person with a brain and a pulse). But to no avail. She has taken the art of self-pity to an all new level and dwells there daily. There ought to be an award for this....

I am not sure where the conversation ended up, as I remembered some pictures I had stored away that I wanted to sort, dug them out, and commenced with sorting. Somehow we ended up talking about #4's recent allergic reaction, and the conversation REALLY took a turn for the worse... yes, it CAN and DID get worse. She began to tell me about these interesting skin allergies she had as a child and adolescent, and even up until she went to college; now, I grew up in very close proximity to Sybil, and I only know of ONE, and I do mean ONE allergy she had - to fluoride - that caused a skin reaction. But today I learned a most disturbing fact, one that I could have gone the rest of my life without: she apparently had a persistent rash requiring cream. Just gander a guess at where.

I myself have suffered allergies all of my life. I do not exaggerate. I do not remember life without allergy shots, medicine, asthma, puffers, and mostly through childhood, hives... a lot! Detergents gave me rashes. Dry cleaning fluid gave me rashes. Foods gave me hives. Medicines gave me asthma attacks. Everything I breath is still against me. (But let me take this moment to personally thank the makers of Zyrtec, Singulair, and Advair, along with the various nosesprays I use - I LOVE YOU!!!!) OK, so I was the one with all these problems. Fast forward to now. Amazingly she is the one with the terrible history of allergic and asthmatic problems. Very interesting. History retold by a crazy person - WOW! That could really sell!

So, she discloses to me this secret info about her rash condition, which thank the Good Lord is GONE!! (I'd have had to Lysol the phone!) She says: you probably didn't know about this then. Uh, what makes you think I want to know about it now?? And how can I believe you?? because so much of what you remember is made up? fairytale? Disney-esque?? I found a way to get off the phone STAT, skin crawling, and ran to wash my hands, my hair,... heck, I deloused myself and everyone else here (even the dog) - can't be too careful!!!!

I have decided to pray that Sybil finds more gainful employment, as that really cuts into her phone time!

PS - I want to take this opportunity to just ' put this out there': within the past two years, someone told me that (apparently this is fact according to them) the people in these *countries want to live this way and are lazy, thus perpetuating their own poverty cycles. I find this theory the rantings of a moron. Anyone disillusioned enough to say this out loud and in public should be subjected to fish slapping a la VeggiTales style (see the Jonah DVD) until they recant, beg forgiveness, and spend time doing mission work in these countries to feed and vaccinate these Children of God. This is my personal opinion; I am not sponsored by anyone for this blog, and I take sole responsibility for not telling said individual this when I heard their ridiculous statement the first time. I know it's risky putting this out there, but really, I feel it needed to be said. Ignorance can be cured one idiot at a time!!!!

Extending Circumstances

2009-04-08T18:52:00.000-07:00

Today was a real red letter day: I saw the Hair Guru (henceforth to be known as 'The Guru", due to proving his worth in all things hair related, and on the subject of St. Joseph, who is to be buried upside down in your yard). Oh, he does do wonders for a girl and her frolicking springtime locks!!

Per usual, we caught up with one another, and I trusted his expert hands to trim, tame and coif my lustrous mane of curls. When what to my wondering follicles did appear, but three spiraling chestnut extensions, my dear! Glorious, glossy, and glamorous to boot - he fixed them in my hair, and then with a scoot - shooed me out the door!!!

I WAS GIDDY! I WAS DELIGHTFUL! I WAS SIMPLY DIVINE!!!!!!!

I pranced through the rest of my day tossing and stroking my perfectly coiffed curls that now extended nearly TO THE FLOOR! (OK, this might be a slight exaggeration,... but they were long!) Paparazzi popped out from behind parked cars to snap my picture, strangers opened doors and tipped their hats, the sun even shone a bit brighter just on me. My children were obedient, the Hub an absolute dear, and my dear friends expressed undying devotion and loyalty. YES!!!! This is what I was born for!!! All this time, just waiting on the secret to being...

DIVINE

And so I am forced to go on this way.

What a burden to bear - greatness!

Darn you, oh Guru, Darn you to heck!

Oh, and can I come in tomorrow for you to fix my hair???

DISCLAIMER: GRANOLA MAMA KATIE IN NO WAY BELIEVES SHE IS GREAT; ONLY THE HAIR EXTENSIONS. AND THE GURU. AND ON FRIDAYS - DEFINITELY GREAT ON FRIDAYS. AND SOMETIMES ON WEDNESDAY MORNINGS. BUT ONLY SOMETIMES. BUT PRIDE IS IN CHECK. EGO TOO. YEP, IT'S ALL GOOD.

Are You Being Served?

2009-04-04T18:42:00.000-07:00

This was the title of a delightful British comedy years ago, set in department store, but now longer available via PBS, though you can order the complete collection on DVD from the PBC catalog... but this bit of trivial trivia has nothing really to do with what I plan on talking about today.

THis afternoon, the Hub, made one of his now famous statements (famous because I am talking about it now). We had just spent the day attending/ coaching (often from the sidelines... please see previous post about the beast at soccer) two soccer games, spent two hours at the circus (a REAL circus that comes to town every year... not my house around 4:30 on Friday afternoon), when we pulled into our neighborhood amidst complaints from the Masses of extreme hunger; I suggested that he start heating up some leftover Mom's World Famous Spaghetti sauce and pasta, and I'd get the sodas and be right back. Here's the good part... he responded:

Nope. I'm not doin' it. I'm tired of serving them.

WHA-HUHHHHH???????? HE's tired of serving them???? HE????? Are you kidding me???? Last time I checked (which was just this morning), I was the stay-at-home parent; on duty for sick child care, school programs, afternoon marathons, and play dates. I am the one who grocery shops, clothes and shoes shops, cleans, cooks, launders (with help from God's Greatest Blessing), and basically sees to the every need of every one and thing in this house!

In fact, service is my job. And his too. He just doesn't know it. I'm breaking him in slowly... like taking off a band-aid... little by little. Thank heavens I was on my way to Sonic right after he opened his mouth and inserted his foot, or I would have guffawed in his face!!!!

BUt one more silly comment like that, and I'm changing my 'band-aid' removal approach - RRRRIIIIPPPPP!!!!!! OUCH!

Phone Silence

2009-03-30T19:51:00.001-07:00

Sybil broke phone silence today; apparently I am now forgiven for ambushing her about her new job. Funny how she 'job dropped' it into her new daily schedule; for example, 'I've been busy with work, and the kids' projects...'. See how she did that? Like she's always had a job outside of the home! Very chameleon-like. Could this be a new personality? The Birth of a New Dimension? The Dawning of a New Demon???

We shall call her Corporate Betty. The gal who brings home the bacon, fires it up in a pan, and never ever lets her man forget about it.... Or any of the rest of us!

Actually, I am rather glad that she's moved past the self-imposed stigma of the New Job and has finally returned my calls: was running low on material!! Really, she did start with: 'Oh, you're alive!" And I smartly and snarkily replied: 'Back at ya, Syb! I have left TWO messages..." Oh, how I did love that moment, when I could turn the tables on her and say that. Sybil is famous for telling me how many messages she's left: 'I left you four messages' translates to she really called once earlier today.

I didn't have to tell her too much as she conveniently had to go - but that left the balance of power in my hands, as she had called when I was away Sunday, and I returned her call, but I had originally called her twice first... at this point in the story, the Hub is completely lost! He has no idea who's on first and if they've called and how... cell or land line? But the power shift was too much for her.

SO, NOT 15 MINUTES LATER, SHE CALLED ME BACK!

Yep, she thinks she's now got the upper hand, like she has the power... but we all know that I am the Master at this game, and I shall call her tomorrow and leave a message, and thus will have the power!!!! Muh-waaa haaa haa haa (evil laugh... you know the drill, wringing of the hands)!!

And why should I care about the power? Well, honestly, the phone silence is MY game, My brain child, MY signature trait. And she stole it, the hag!! She used it on me, and that means war, my friends. See, I originated the move - it is mine; my way to not speak to the Crazy and Deranged, of which Sybil is one, for a length of time until I am completely ready for another dose of the Twilight Zone. I simply don't call; or I only return a call when I know they are not going to answer. That way, we actually never speak on the phone, hence the name 'phone silence'. And it works. I then regale said person when I choose to speak with them with all the piddly things I have been doing (only on a grander scale - it's all in the telling) and funny stories so said Crazy doesn't realize I have been avoiding them; I also call when I have a very limited amount of time to talk, and must preface the conversation with the details of how I will very soon have to abruptly end the call, and I don't want to be rude so I warn them ahead of time. Again, it works. Thus, I control the situation as best I can, and am more likely to have a tolerable outcome.

YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION TO USE THIS METHOD AS OFTEN AS NECESSARY.

And tomorrow, I will use the 'call when they aren't available technique' to successfully swing the balance of the Power. After all, I AM THE MASTER!

CHickens

2009-03-27T19:18:00.000-07:00

Pretty descriptive title, eh? Well, after the Amish experience, I have decided that as a part of my transformation into a delightful provincial European on American soil, chickens will be in order. At the new house. In their own house. Away from Fat Annie the VBD. I want layers, so my children can race across the verdant field laughing, egg basket in hand (which I have purchase, thank you very much), ready to collect farm fresh eggs for a frittata (fancy omelette)! Golly gee whiz, what a beautiful sight!!

Reality: obnoxious rooster crows at 3 am because he's a little off on the time thing; children fight over who gets to carry the basket, and race to the hen house, thus scaring the chickens into pooping or loosing their feathers... or both; same children have to gingerly pick their way across the copperhead infested field cuz we haven't bush-hogged in a while; children let chickens out, and Fat Annie has a fresh chicken dinner... and it ain't courtesy of KFC! Said children hop, skip, and jump through the field of doom and spill any eggs they have collected, necessitating a trip to the market for non-farm fresh eggs.

Yep. THis is gonna be great!!!

Now, on to the garden...

Manure

2009-03-21T18:46:00.000-07:00

Yes. Manure. Cow manure, specifically. It lingers. It smells. It is a volatile organic chemical. It has infested ever piece of clothing in the suitcases, as well as the suitcases themselves. The boys' boots may be a lost cause. I opened the bag they were in, and the smell brought me to my knees; my eyes watered; it was almost a religious experience!!!! I did not feel like a particularly holy or clean one, but it was a real experience!!!! We knew something was amiss when we identified our bags by their smell... people crinkled up their noses and turned away from our bags... the fire department was called to deal with a toxic waste spill... Fat Annie the VBD fell in love with the duffle bag...

So, I've been doing laundry. Mountains, and mountains of VERY STINKY LAUNDRY!!

I FEEL LIKE IT IS N.E.V.E.R G.O.I.N.G T.O. E.N.D!

Needless to say, I am not in the nicest, friendliest, let -me- be- at- your- service moods. I bite. Hard.

The smelly laundry does attest to the great success of our Amish farm vacation, and I feel proud to say that we have made new friends in Pennsylvania! It was all that I could have hoped for, and more... and a bag of chips. While they had no Sonic, they did have the Turkey Hill chain of EZ Mart style gas stations with a delightful and satisfying blend of caffeine, carbonation, and Diet Coke flavoring and secret ingredients! All was saved!!

And now we are home - grumpy from travel, and wearing the last pair of clean skivvies we own... because I am STILL washing the rest!

Forget the Dome

2009-03-13T17:39:00.000-07:00

My husband's truck has its own ecosystem. I used to joke that amidst all the dried, rotting apple cores/ burgers and fries/ chocolate smeared candy wrappers/ lollipops/ and various sports beverages, something had to be cooking itself to life.

Well, today I saw proof!!! I feel like the people who've seen Bigfoot, or Nessie. I am a pioneer in my field! It was too fast, too elusive to get a photo, but I got a really good up close look at its eight spindly legs, pale segmented body, and general creepiness!

IT WAS A SPIDER!!! REAL. LIVE. ARACHNID. CRAWLING. IN. THE. TRUCK. WITH. ME!

He claims that is his antitheft security system, but if you could see how dirty his car is, you'd know that NO ONE on either side of the Mexican border is desperate enough to steal this truck! He also claims that the adhesive seats are a part of the safety mechanism - if the seatbelt won't work, the seat keeps you glued down. NICE.

I NEED TO BE DELOUSED AFTER RIDING IN HIS TRUCK!

Proof positive that there is some type of life form besides roaches that can survive a nuclear holocaust.

THe night before departure...

2009-03-13T17:19:00.000-07:00

Packing for six makes me wonder what we were thinking when we decided to actually leave our home with four children for an overnight stay somewhere... anywhere!!!! I didn't know a week's worth of clothes required that many suitcases. I considered cutting back on jeans, having them wear them a day or two; problem is, we will be at a farm. With cows, cause that's what they have on dairy farms. With cow patties, cause they have a LOT of those on dairy farms. In the Amish country. At an Amish farm. No washer. No dryer.

Then, I thought back to my college days and good 'ol Pat's piles of clothing on this bedroom floor. They are as follows:

1. Clean, but not folded.

2. Dirty, and definitely not folded.

3. Not so dirty, wear again.

THis last category included... yes, you guessed it, his tidy whities and boxers! EEEWWWW!!!!

So, I asked 'ol Pat how exactly he could wear his undies again? His reply (not for the weak stomached): I turn them inside out!!!!

HE WAS SERIOUS!

Funny part: his family owned a dry cleaning/ laundry service!!!! Ironic, isn't it? Well, my college roomate/ sorority sister married him, and I have a sneaky suspicion that his undies are all clean now!

But back to the packing. I am trying to cut back on the amount of luggage we have to take, as now a days you have to pay about $15 for every checked bag. For this amount, I would expect my luggage to come off the plane in sparkling, pristine condition. We are down a few large suitcases due to airline accidents. I'm not holding my breath!

However, despite my dilemnas, I am almost done!!!! yeah, me! So, I want to notify you that my blogging will be a little on the short side, as I will be using the iPhone and it's itty bitty keys, which gets an itty bitty annoying; plus, the auto correct really makes me mad... :( Oh, I breifly considered trying to 'go Amish' on the technology, and it was brief all right!!! In and out, baby!!! Thank goodness I heard the voice of reason! It sounded like this:

"KATIE!" (that's what it calls me - we're on a first name basis by now) "Katie, do you really think you can give up your LAST link to the civilized world on a trip with your four children? To a location so remote that the availability of Sonic is questionable? That involves driving, flying and renting a car? With four children? With multiple restaurant stops? With four children?"

Now, I really didn't have to hear the whole speech, I was convinced when Reason mentioned the four children part, but I have learned to just let Reason have her say (of course she is female), lest we have to start all over again!!! She doesn't like to be interrupted. So, I will definitely be blogging, and checking for comments... hint, hint!

I Believe...

2009-03-07T17:02:00.000-08:00

I Believe....

1. anyone that misinterprets 'easy ice' as 'pack it to the gills with ice' needs to be on my prayer list; they are just stupid!

2. buttercream is proof positive that God loves us... a lot.

3. buttercream IS its own food group.

4. there ought to be an off switch after you're done bearing children.

5. all treatments for spider veins should be reimbursed by the children that caused them.

6. that I ought to have some privacy in the potty.

7. women should have a little pop-up button that signals to our men when we are ready.

8. nice shoes should be affordable; no need to torture the innocent bystanders with views of ugly shoes!

9. pediatricians should have at least one child, preferably two.

10 . that caffeine is more than just your friend.

11. relationships with relatives should be optional.

12. scrappin' should be an Olympic event.

13. people should have to complete a screening process prior to procreating.

14. one can never have too much time or supplies for scrappin'.

15. I am not obligated to explain myself to my kids; I am the Momma, therefore you obey.

16. baby's drool is good for your skin.

17. the UGLY YEARS should remain locked away forever.

18. you should just speak your mind to my face, with kindness of course; talk behind my back comes full circle, and it is usually worse than what you would have/ did say!

19. sarcasm is a way of life.

20. Sonic should deliver.

A Moment of Silence

2009-03-05T17:29:00.000-08:00

Please join me in observing an evening of blogging silence in loving memory of our dearly departed Rainey (aka Satan Incarnate, Mr. Pee-Body). He will be missed... by some. Mainly me. OK, probably only me. Yes, only me. Happy now? Anyway back to my tribute: take amoment to scroll through pas blogs, enjoying the foolishness he was fodder for. And now, our moment...

(ssshhhh....)

Life Lessons On Memory Lane

2009-03-04T19:43:00.000-08:00

I apologize ahead of time for the more serious, philosophical nature of this blog; sometimes, this just cannot be avoided. But, you've been warned!

I've been looking through my old high school and college pics as I reconnect with my buds from years gone by. Aside from being depressed at how young I looked then (compared to now), and extremely entertained by the clothes and hair (Kaci, you were queen of teaser comb - you had one and weren't afraid to use it), I realized that each set of pics brought back so many memories - they seemed so fresh!

I read love letters from high school and college beaus, and felt so sad that I know two hearts that I shattered. No, I am not being boastful; we've all broken a heart or two! I just read them for the first time in so long, and realized that, yea, I hurt these fellas' hearts. And I feel badly about it. As a grown woman, I thought about how I was gonna need to use this info to help my kids' through a broken heart, or letting the sweetheart down easy. It's inevitable. And I dread it.

I saw pics from the first few years after my mom died, and I didn't see a happy college girl at a function or dance, I saw the abandoned, wounded girl I was. I still see what few people (others than those close to me) saw; not even my family could see. And that hurts. There is a reason I haven't been down this road in a long time.

But, it's time to put them in an album, and give them a place in my history. These events shaped me, whether I like it or not. They played a part in making me who I am - the rest was up to God. I think He's done better than I would have given what He had to work with!! I watched my face glow in pictures with my husband; I could see the same look in his eyes that I do tonight - we are in love! What a dramatic evolution from the insecure, self-conscious teenager I once was, to .... well, ... ME! Oh, sure, I deal with insecurity, low self-esteem, days of knowing I have been the worst mom on the face of the earth! I don't think that will ever change. I just have learned to get up, dust myself off, and get back up on the horse, so to speak.

And I have learned to laugh like never before about my most embarrassing moment, which Kaci just learned lo these many years later, though she was there that night... and is now sworn to secrecy! I am afraid some of you don't know me well enough for this one - it's doozy!!!!

Yep. We have to go back sometimes from whence we came, in order to see how far we've really come!!!!

Granted, I don't plan on staying in some places too long. I'll put them in an album, record my thoughts, and close it up. Someday maybe my kids will read it and gain some insight into their dear momma. I'd much prefer that to telling it all over again myself.

And some, well, I'll keep them around longer, right out in the open - these are lessons I need to refer to more often! Or ones that make me smile, or laugh hysterically until I cry and almost wet my britches! Yeah, those are gonna stay out for a while!!!

Good night, all! Gotta go clean up the doggie poop!

(Really, I haven't come that far in every area, now have I!!!!!!!!!!!!)

TRUE CONFESSIONS

2009-03-02T17:22:00.001-08:00

IT'S TIME FOR CONFESSION (in college, this involved alcohol and Mexican food; tonight, its just me and a weak Diet Coke/ aka DC ):

1. I am enjoying facebook. There, I said it. You happy, Sister Scout?? Yeah, I bet you are. Still secretly hate you for it, but loving it none the less. Grrrrr.....

2. Trips down memory lane can lead to fits of laughter, and fits of depression!!! Seriously, I howled laughing at my old high school and college function pics - oh, the hair and clothes - still wiping the tears from my eyes! Oh, perhaps those are tears of anguish and despair, as I found bathing suit pics, and realized the decent abs I had then were soooo wasted on my insecure, self-conscious youth. Drat!!!! Oh, woe is me!!! (cookie, anyone?) If I had that body, I'd dress like a hoochie mama every stinkin' day just to show it off! Really, I'd wear a bathing suit to the grocery store WITHOUT THE COVER-UP!

3. The above confessions have led me to need another DC, which means I must sneak out of the house and head to Sonic (I am not stupid enough to keep the joint stocked - I'd be mainlining in no time - HA!) And this leads to confession #4...

4. All this time that I kept telling the Hub I was gonna quit, well,... I was lying!!!! I have no intention of quitting! EVER!! NOT IN THIS LIFETIME!!!! MUH-WAH-HAAHAAHAA!!!!

(don't forget to wring your hands with the maniacally evil laugh, it really helps with the whole effect)

Hmmmm, they've all gone downstairs... now's my chance....

Something to talk about

2009-03-01T08:42:00.000-08:00

Well, I confess... I've been having a little fun on FB, seeing what some of the crazy folks I knew way back when are up to now. It is also fun, because my name has changed so much since then - in fact, almost completely. No, I am not a part of the Witness Protection Program, though somedays living in Arkansas feels like it. So, my BF from High School (henceforth to be known as BFHS) has been tattling on me to some people that have inquired about me to her.

So, this little trip down memory lane has brought a few belly laughs, and even more wistful sighs at how young and STUPID we were!!! So, I have decided to dig into the long forgotten box of HS pics today, while #4 is napping. Never fear, the UGLY YEARS will remain sealed - you're safe!

So, this made me journey down the self-reflection path even more, to look at what, who and when shaped me... like emotionally, not physically; that is totally due to #'s 1,2,3,4, and my dastardly, sinister thyroid gland. I have to admit (thankfully) that I have come a long way, baby!!! In fact, recently I have run into some folks that ordinarily I'd avoid like they were angry rattlesnakes, but NOPE! I plowed on ahead and was nice and polite. I stop, chit-chatted, and basically chose not to let it interrupt my day. I'd say that's growth.

Also, I notice some MARKED improvement in the hair and make-up...

(can you say "Sebastion Hair Shaper?", hotpink lipstick)

Yep. growth is GOOD!!

Apparently, I am funny...

2009-02-26T19:17:00.000-08:00

THe conversation went something like this:

ME: Hey, homeslice, I noticed you haven't invitied me to be your friend on facebook yet.

HUB: Why should I? We're married! (chuckles at his cleverness)

ME: Well, what do you think that says about our relationship? Hmmmm?

HUB: Well, I guess not much! I noticed YOU haven't invited me to be your friend...

ME: Your the boy, you're supposed to ask first!!!

HUB: Oh, is that how it works? (now laughing in my face)

Seriously. He has not invited me to be his friend on FB. What does that really say about us? He's invited sooooo many people that he hasn't talked to in YEARS (decades, really) to be his long lost best friend, but not me - his better half, the love of his life, his life partner, his lobster!!!!

Well, I'm not asking him... because I'm a little old-fashioned in this regard. He has to make the first move. May be a really long wait! It took two months for him to ask me out after he first 'saw' me. He was quick to point out that it took only about nine months to pop the big question.

Still, he could ask just to be polite...

Of course, I could always just ignore his request - teach him to hog all the hot dogs!!!!!!!!!!

I am soooo in touch

2009-02-25T16:44:00.000-08:00

I am more electronically in touch with my computer than with most of my high school and college boyfriends! We are really close, like INTIMATE!!! I would feel violated, except I seem to be a willing/unwilling at times participant... but participant is the operative word!! I think the computer and its interweb capacities have seduced me... this is soooo wrong! I know I shouldn't, but I can't help myself! I am driven by my desire to out-do the Hub, and so far I have, but at what cost? TONIGHT'S DINNER, that's what!!!! Can you say 'crispy'? Not great in relation to pizza.

I know I should get out now before it goes too far and I do something I will really regret, but I don't know if I can stop? If bloggin' is so wrong, I don't wanna be right....

Take me out to the ball park...

2009-02-24T16:56:00.001-08:00

I can honestly say that I don't think the Hub would buy me a hot dog... or cracker jacks, or peanuts. Why, You ask? Well, tonight the fam had a big apres "the Great Ice Storm of '09" debris burning, which per the Hub should be celebrated with hotdogs and marshmallows. Delightful!

You won't be surprised that I stayed inside with the baby, rather than roast her accidentally. So, I stuck some tater tots into the oven for about 20 minutes, and when the buzzer went off, I set the table and hollered out to the Hub and three kids: when are the dogs gonna be ready? I was met with four pairs of sheepish eyes, and one extra pair from a neighbor boy. There, on a little make-shift table were buns and condiments...

I then heard a tall tale of how the dogs were 'falling' into the fire... and they had one for now... which I fed to the baby like a good parent (cut up, of course). I then sent #3, who had popped in to tell me about his open-fire-cooking-back-to-the-Neanderthal-experience, to get me another. #2 was sent in reply: sorry, we have no more hotdogs, Mom.

WHAT? There were 14 hotdogs? Where are yours? Hmmmm, they had been eating theirs fireside. They were all gone.

I ate some tater tots, sans ketchup cause I was too angry to march down the back stairs and retrieve it!!!! Then, the masses and sweet neighbor boy brought a few marshmallows as a peace offering; they are forgiven. The Hub is not... he knew better.

So, rather than stay mad, I will plot revenge.

Tomorrow night is roasted chicken with potatoes and sugar snap peas.

Too bad he won't get a plate!

About Face

2009-02-23T18:55:00.000-08:00

So, Sister Scout pulled a fast one on me, and managed to 'open a facebook account' for me... which the Hub then assumed, and began receiving emails saying: these people that you NEVER talk to EvER in a million trillion years all want to be your friend now, because they have nothing else to do tonight. It didn't take long to figure out that he'd taken the liberty of setting up a profile for himself... not US, but himself. Nice.

Now, one cannot set up more than one facebook account per email address.

I DID NOT WANT TO DO THIS FACEBOOK THING TO BEGIN WITH!

But due to the extreme circumstances I found myself in (backed into a corner, sweating bullets, running for my life), I had no other option than to open my own email account (granolamamakatie@yahoo.com), and then take the drastic and much dreaded step of opening my own facebook account...

plus I one-upped him.

I AM MOBILE WITH MY FACEBOOK! YESSIRREEE!!!! I AM LIVE AND OUT LOUD!!!!!!

I'm not proud... aw, shucks... I sure as heck am! We're talking about one technologically challenged chickie, here! Yeah! I am proud!

And annoyed, that now I.Have.One. More. Thing. To. Do. Every. Day.

THANKS A HECK OF A LOT, SISTER SCOUT! JUST REMEMBER.... REVENGE IS MINE!!!! (wipe that stupid, smug look off your face - I mean it - NOT funny)

New Meaning to Dog-faced

2009-02-20T04:51:00.000-08:00

We went out of town last night for a fun grown-up evening in Little Rock, to hear a great comedian; we drove home as the Hub had to work today. I went to bed today at 2 am. Consequently, my face looks like one of the kids' stuffed toys after Fat Annie the Very Bad Dog chews its face off. With make-up. And I feel like that too. Pretty!

We left the kiddies with Grandma, and I see evidence of their mischief... ice cream wrapper by the computer, McDonald's bag in the trash, dirty clothes scattered all over the house,.... Sad think is I am too tired to really care.

I can see myself starting to chew them out, yawning mid-gripe, and just deciding 'what the heck, I'm too tired'. So, I'm going to save myself the trouble and just pile all their garbage on top of their beds! I had two wonderful girls helping G-ma, and they tidied up SOOOOO beautifully, but the Masses are wiley....

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz oh! Sorry Dozed off.........

A Gift that Keeps on Givin'

2009-02-19T08:24:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day was a real hit around here - yes, it takes THAT long for me to find the time sometimes to sit down and put my thoughts out there in cyberspace. The Hub really outdid himself this year; nope. Not diamonds. Not a new car (I do have the UDM, remember? It needs a bath, though). He gave the gift that says: I love you soooo much.

I know, you've got your mind in the gutter once again... typical! Nope. He gave me a night away with a few homies (not hammies) at a little retreat for scrappin' Nothing says I love you more than life itself than "please take your over-worked-tired-grumpy-hiney" out of town for a night!!!! Now, some women might be offended at their spouse ASKING them to leave town... those women do not have four children, two dogs, three hammies, and a Hub. I rest my case. I am that woman, and

I AM THRILLED!!!!!!!!!!!

BRING ON THE CHOCOLATE, BRING ON THE DIET COKE, BRING ON THE LATE NIGHT CROPPIN', BRING ON THE CHICK FLICKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, and I spoke with Sybil yesterday (she called - and oh, yes, I answered!!), and I am soooo slick sometimes that I impress myself; I started our lovely little chat with how are things with you, what's NEW, etc. Funny how she failed to mention her J.O.B. So, I just came right out and ASKED... BOY! Did that shock her! She missed a beat, and I knew that she knew she hadn't told me on PURPOSE, and that the jig was up!!! In fact, I was even so bold as to ask her what she does at her job... hee hee hee heee!

NOTE: I am not making fun of her for working, but for the fact that in her warped multi-personalitied mind she feels the need to HIDE it from me. Yes, I do feel guilty. Just add it to the daily load of guilt and shame I tote around like a feed sack strapped to my back! I do not feel guilty enough, obviously, to refrain from blogging about it. Yeah - your perfect image of me is shattered, isn't it?

Now that's the stuff that makes it worth answering the phone some days, ya know what I mean? Hmmmm, think I'll stop by Hallmark and pick up a nice 'congrats on your new job' card!!!! GOlly, I just crack myself up!!!!!!!!!!!!

And for those of you needing another laugh, go to you tube (not a site I normally send people to), and look up Sister Myotis - you want the Christian Panties video. Talk about worth gettin' up in the mornin' for - hilarious! Oh, and do you have on 'good Christian panties with a GOdly cotton panel'? ha ha ha ha ha.....

My Lack of Reputation

2009-02-17T08:30:00.000-08:00

Apparently, my reputation has gone to the very dogs I feed and clean up after, or even lower, as indicated by the interesting emails an estranged cousin - estranged by her for reasons still unknown to me - though I should get a clue from the interesting emails she has started sending in the past month or so. That's right, I haven't heard or talked with her in YEARS; then, the emails started.

They started benignly enough: God loves you (this I am VERY thankful for), God forgives you (again, infinitely thankful), God wants a personal relationship with you (Huh? Does she know me at all? I write and record Christian music? I used to talk with HER about God? Hmmmmm....) But, all in all, it is nice that she sends these bulk, mainly forwarded-stick-your-name-here-for-a-blessing-and-send-to-ten-of-your-friends emails.... But, NOTHING PERSONAL. No how are you's, no how are your kids, how's life, here's what's new in my world. Nope. I do not forward these, BTW.

So, apparently, based on whatever source of info she has (DOD and Sybil), I am going to Hell! Wow! That's news to me!!!! News to The Almighty too! I've got news for her: WHEN YOU GET TO HEAVEN, DON'T BE SURPRISED TO SEE ME THERE! Seriously, I never really considered my eternal salvation up for question or recruitment, as I am quite secure in the fact that I love God - which I thought was a known fact. So, in case, you didn't know, I love God and Jesus is my Savior. There, now you know. Whew!

So, could someone please tell my cousin? Frankly, the emails have escalated to "the wings of angels and trumpets, and people riding away on clouds and are you with them?" kind of genre, which I don't think is really a great way to proselytize by email. For some poor souls this could scare the bejeezuz out of them and drive them straight into some type of snake-handling cult! I oughta know, I've been there!!! Criminy!

And when the fear factor goes, you're stuck with a bunch of reptiles...

Gotta go pick up the mice....

The Job Market Just Got More Dangerous

2009-02-15T17:49:00.000-08:00

First off, howdy to my new readers... yes, YOU!!!! Thank you for coming back for more! I hope it makes your day brighter to read how goofy I am sometimes, or how much these beloved Masses drive me to the edge of the ledge, or how much I sooooo need another DC (The Elixir of Life)!

I bet you're wondering why I am talking about the job market, though the last time the Hub left town for a week with work, I found myself updating my CV and scanning the want ads.... I had a shocking phone call yesterday from the 'Rental and Step-Rental; the phone call wasn't the shock, but a tidbit of info was... SYBIL GOT A JOB!!!! That's right, she's joined the work force there in Tejas, the Promised Land, and is apparently working part-time for a CPA. Doing what? Who knows? Who cares? She's been threatening/ promising to get a job since the birth of their first child, about 18 years ago. Ever since then, I've had to listen to the moans and groans and financial woes, as she and her spouse tend to spend every dime they make.

Now, one's spending habits are one's business... unless you've spent the last 18 years @#$%@ about your lack of cash flow to ME (her hubbie is a doctor, and has job security, one would think; but he changes jobs about every five years, which can really cost ya)... and then those four sets of fine china seem little frivolous to me, the listener. And the $100 plus Longerberger baskets she uses to put her stinky boys' dirty clothes in seem a little ridiculous. I honestly don't think that a basket woven by one of the blessed Masses would be worth $100... and they're the fruit of my womb!

If I have to hear once more how long it's been since she bought clothes (which was just last WEEK), I will reach through the phone and strangle her with the little annoying plastic tag do-hickeys!!!!!!! SORRY - almost lost it for a moment. So, she's finally gotten a job.

Frankly, I'm wondering how long her little pampered self will be able to handle actually taking orders - oh, to be a fly on the wall! And will she get anything done, or will she talk, talk, talk.... This is usually what happens whenever we are together for a visit (which I have tried to schedule major surgery in order to avoid):

We decide to go somewhere (please, Lord, NOT shopping...)

I try to go get dressed, or ready to leave.

SHe is talking, about who knows what.

I go get dressed.

She is STILL talking, about the same who knows what.

She finally goes to get dressed, still talking about who knows what.

I take a moment to tidy up, repack our suitcases (for a speedy get-away), return phone calls, give birth, build a house....

She comes back... yep, still talking.

We gather any and everyone/thing that is going, and then...

SHE.HAS.ONE.MORE.THING.TO.DO.

I bang my head against the wall.

She is still talking.

I lop off my ears... yap yap yap yap yap!!!!!

Threaten to leave without her... yada yada yada...

I am now on the edge of a nervous breakdown, fire shooting out of my mouth, head spinning around...

STILL TALKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We finally leave - I am now on my seventh Diet Coke, and paying at Sonic for another - round on the house, baby!

I give her

a month.

Can I see some ID?

2009-02-08T11:14:00.000-08:00

Yes, ladies and gents, I recently got carded at Jack's Package - a lover-ly establishment with a delightful wine room, and my two favorite wines in stock. The lady at the counter politely asked to see my ID; here's what happened:

Her: I need to see some ID.

Me: Oh, GOd bless you!! Thank you!!!

I open wallet where said ID is visible through plastic window.

Her: Could you take that out, hon, cause I'm not believing what I'm seeing!!!

Me: Oh, how sweet!!! I could just kiss you!!!

She eyes me suspiciously as I remove DL from wallet and hand it to her. SHe stares at me... then at the DL, then at me - kinda like a tennis match on a teeny tiny court.

Me: I have four kids!

Her: Really.

Me: yeah. Oldest is 9 1/2, youngest just turned one on 1-3-09. My boys are 7 1/2 and almost 5!

Her: Well, honey, I don't know what you do, but you do it well! You look to be in your mid-twenties! What do you do?

Me: I love ya, lady! Can I bear a kid for you? BUy you a car? Lick your toilet clean?

I have decided to install that same lighting in the New House... who needs to see?

Living Like the Amish

2009-02-01T19:33:00.000-08:00

Apparently God wanted us to get just a taste of Amish life early, and in real style - we had an ice storm. It knocked out the power here at Chez Granola Mama Katie for a few frosty days, which were manageable with a generator (cha-ching). Knocked out phone lines... cable... you get the idea. We here in semi-rural/semi-urban America were thrown back a few hundred years to prehistoric ( OK, pre-Thomas Edison) times: cooking over an open fire, or gas-grill; huddling together for warmth; forgoing cleanliness for warmth - or shrieking like a mad woman sponging off in freezing cold water because you just HAVE to be clean; candles, or LED flashlights, to illuminate the darkness. Yep, these were desperate times. In fact, some of my fellow 'transplants' ( what we call those of us living here not born here and staying here because crazy Sybil lives in The Promised Land... The Republic of Texas.... insert wistful sigh here) are still struggling through the long winter, awaiting spring or the power company to get their electricity back on, whichever comes first.

We took this opportunity to talk with The Masses a little about how the Amish people live, and touched on why, and how their lifestyle is different from ours - yes, I meant 'me', not me and the Hub... like he knows how they live! Ha! I realized in educating the Masses a little that we still had it really easy. I mean, when the electricity went out, we bought a generator; they use NO ELECTRICITY... FOR ANYTHING... LIKE LIGHTS... AND AN OVEN... and definitely NOT a computer or television!

* It was truly delightful to be TV free. Unfortunately, my OCD kicked into overdrive and I felt the insane urge to clean like a 9 months pregnant woman (NO, I AM NOT PREGNANT - WHEW!)

I couldn't wait to get out of the house on Friday (I'd been at home since Monday afternoon), and I looked forward to hopping behind the wheel of the UDM, or anything for that matter... except an unheated horse and buggy. Talk about 'homebody'! Nothing like hitchen' up the buggy in 20 degree weather to make ya wanta stay home!!!!

And of course, the Masses wanted to know if they had outhouses. This is up for debate, though the books I have read, most of them did use an outhouse. DO they still? We may have to wait for our visit to find out. But, people are resourceful, and I wouldn't be surprised if some enterprising Amish person hadn't come up with a way to avoid the 20 degree visit to the outhouse!

I truly felt like a Pioneer Katie as I cooked sausage and pancakes on the grill - and I truly felt grateful that this wasn't my everyday life!

I am thankful God put me here now, and in this place (and not in Texas cuz you-know-who lives there, the one we aren't gonna name...). Yep, I think I coulda done the whole survival/pioneer/give birth in the fields and a keep on pickin' thing ...

but I am SOOOOOO happy I don't have to find out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Correction

2009-01-22T15:51:00.003-08:00

My daughter takes violin lessons, not the car - ehck, if it had that kinda talent, you'd be seeing me on TV, not reading a blog!

Live Bait

2009-01-22T15:39:00.000-08:00

This would make a GREAT name for band, don't you think? Well, I do! But this has nothing to do with bands. Today I am driving the UDM back from the little riverside town of Cotter where she currently takes lessons, when I see a sign that says:

TAKING CONSIGNMENTS

BOATS CARS

LIVE BAIT

Huh? Really? I can leave my dog there and someone will pay me to take him and use him for live bait? Perhaps I should jot that number down!!!

Seriously. In the world of advertising, what does that mean? Are there some seriously bad parents that might try to drop their kiddies off, or hamster overrun homes in need of quick and profitable relief? What KIND of live bait? What's gonna eat what? And what's my profit margin here?

I saw another sign yesterday that said: "No alcohol in our gasoline. We have kerosene." Now, I don't know about you, and I certainly have no degree in chemistry, but I think that isn't a very good idea! I have decided that the gasoline there might be more than I bargained for.

All this to say, please, say what you mean! Kinda like the age old dance of 'lets get the kids to bed early tonight', which can mean various things to men and women: the games on, Gray's Anatomy is on, I wanta go to a 'brodown' (see urban dictionary for that one), I wanta do some serious scrappin' tonight, they're buggin' the ever lovin' snot outta me, or 'do ya want to?'

Nothing like being straight forward and to the point. So, on that note... I gotta go pee-pee. Bye, ya'll!!!!

I feel lousy

2009-01-21T18:34:00.000-08:00

BUt not too lousy to go buy scrapbook stuff, which always elevates my mood! In fact, I am converting another lost soul to the truth and light of scrapbooking - I oughta get a reward. I am so happy to help another member of womankind, though men can scrap too, we are equal opportunity hobbiests, discover the hidden artistic historian within her/himself! Seriously. Someone nominate me for the Nobel Prize in Fabulousness!

I have found two converts recently, which the Hub says I have "sucked into the black hole of scrappin' ". This makes it sound like a bad thing... which it is NOT, and he should be smacked silly with wet noodles for such comments (hey, get in line, sister!). I pointed out that it wasn't like I'd gotten them hooked on ancient world painkillers (see yesterday's blog - keep up, ya'll), and he retorted "it's almost as bad!" Pardon? How could it be as bad?

Quality time with friends, or oneself, preserving priceless memories (which the Hub cannot remember b/c of his unbelievably horrible memory, which I have used to my advantage... "you said it was okay...", "we talked about this..." "don't you remember...?" Girl, I am good!!!!).

No substance addictions, or abuse - hey, the Diet COke thang has been around a WHOLE lot longer - so how could this be bad?

Is it the money? Seriously. I spend less on scrappin' supplies than some folks spend on one pair of shoes (OK, that 'folks ' is moi, but I have VERY skinny feet and it is hard to find shoes,and I would GLADLY pay less is they would CHARGE me less... amen?) And he doesn't have costly hobbies?

Let's review shall we? Oh, we shall. He has a river boat (cha-ching), countless expensive fishing rods (cha-ching), at one point SIX sets of NICE drums (we are down to two three now... cha-cha-cha-ching)... and the man likes his I pods... at least the ones he's managed to NOT lose...

We could be here all night. So once again, I am right and the Hub is wrong. Not surprised. The world's a better, more beautiful place because of moi.

I'll be writing my Nobel Prize acceptance speech now...

*NOTE: the author (moi) doesn't really think so highly of herself as to realistically think she deserves a Nobel Prize in Fabulousness. She exercised creative license, inflating her ego to heighten the humor of the above piece. Although the Hub IS wrong, as usually usual. A prize in General Greatness is just fine.

Achoooo!

2009-01-20T18:18:00.000-08:00

Seriously, what could be grosser than copious amounts of snot and phlegm flying freely from ones orifices, but the nasty medicine I am taking to dry it up! What did people do thousands of years ago when they contracted the common cold, or worse? Did they think they were dying, cuz, frankly, I sorta feel that way. Did they just lay down and wait for it to pass, moaning and writhing on their woven mats, beholden to the benevolent and kind clansmen/women for food and water... and to think they braved it without Diet Coke - GASP!!!!

I have always wondered this, every time I've gotten sick, but I've never told anyone for fear that they'd think I was wack-a-doo; you are still reading my blog and therefore KNOW that I am wack-a-doo, henceforth the WORD: wack-a-doo!

So, I did a little research and discovered that if the ancients were relying on herbs for relief, they sooooo had us beat!!!

For example: opium (morphine), or marijuana, or mushrooms, or hemp, or any of the other hallucinogenic NATURALLY occurring plants used medicinally. You have to agree that there's a pretty potent, and appetite stimulating, arsenal out in the natural world! Now, I am not endorsing the use of any of these by any law abiding citizen (such as myself, and yourself), but it really makes me wonder what's in the fancy long chemical name I'm taking to dry up the snot, that also seems to make me feel warm and sleepy. Some of them make me tachycardic, sweaty, and crazy-eyed - I avoid these for obvious reasons, and for the fact that I don't want my picture in the post office, if you know what I mean. Praise God that none of these over-the-counter meds has given me the munchies (I have been known to sleep eat, and recently it was #4's birthday cake... this REALLY happens!).

Which makes me wonder, have we really come that far? Scientists are turning back to nature to discover chemotherapy drugs, and painkillers... any Rainey killers? He's certainly a pain!!!! Sorry, little distracted. Seriously. Are we as evolved as we think we are?

Well, I can tell you, for one, that in this house, WE DEFINITELY ARE NOT!!! Why tonight at dinner, I had to encourage STRONGLY that all dining parties USE A FORK!!!!! Sheesh.

But I'll stick to my laboratory, FDA approved cold medicine which makes me feel warm and sleepy....

A new spring in my step...

2009-01-17T15:50:00.000-08:00

Yes, my new title has put a new spring into my step, a new lilt into my laughter, and a new twinkle in my eye! I am immensely happy about my new royal status. Seriously. If you look at history literally thousands of kings and queens were self-proclaimed, self-appointed... so, I am all for it! I am simply repeating history, like millions before me, who have done so in big and small ways. Sure, some of these royalnesses assumed the throne under violent and bloody circumstances, secret coupes, but I am a peaceful, benevolent ruler. As long as we do it my way.

And my new kingdom, Ninnia, has thrived while my royal consort was away, thanks to my wise and tireless leadership... yep, I'm great. The baby is officially "weeble walking" around the house, which is by far the cutest thing ever, and the Masses have not revolted yet; we've had some interclan grumblings, but nothing that a healthy dose of love, time outs, and/or ice cream couldn't master! All hail, Her Royal Highness, Queen Kathryn the Great! ( I imagine trumpets and cheering masses at this point, maybe some confetti too!)

I'll take that parade now.

So, the Hub has returned from his wanderings (translate: week away with work), and the Masses are already wailing and nashing teeth; I can see that he might be a bit of trouble in the Kingdom of Ninnia, so I will have to make sure he's aware of my new status, and that he pays due homage; diamonds are always good!

Otherwise, it's to the dungeon and off with his head!

The Week Ahead

2009-01-12T17:54:00.000-08:00

The week ahead may cause me to lose my mind! As we type, I am being whined at and clung to by the Barnacle Baby, barked at by Mr. Pee-Body/ Satan Incarnate, and harassed by the boys for chocolate milk.

So, I have made an executive decision: I am changing my name!

That's right! No longer will I be known as "Mom, Mommy, Momma, Mama", or any of the other synonyms. Nope. I will be addressed with the utmost respect I deserve...

I shall be called: YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS

No, not your royal hiney, YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS.

Just thinking about it makes me smile!!! Brings a song of joy into my heart. Makes the endless barking bearable... somewhat... for the next few seconds anyway. Yes, this is my new title, and one I have earned if you ask me, which you can and I will tell you I have, earned it that is.

I have finally found my calling... oh, wait... that's the phone... sorry...

Day of the Dead...

2009-01-08T16:04:00.000-08:00

Hammie. That's right. Another bit the hammie dust. Dear shy went to be with her maker, up in the great habitrail in the sky sometime before dawn; well, she was alive yesterday anyway. She will be missed. Donations can be made in her memory in the form of a gift card from Sonic to her owner: me.

Oh, do I sense a travelin' in my future? Me thinks me does! It seems the Hub is planning a fishing trip, and by this I mean wilderness experience with other manly folk, but I do believe he's opting for a cabin this time rather than a canoe... but underwear burning will commence regardless! THEN, he mentioned that there might be another "Gay Cruise" reunion - I am unable to tell this story any further lest he cut of my 'cremes' funding - and that would be in August.

AND WE ALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, NOW DON'T WE GUYS AND DOLLS...

MAMA GETS A TRIPPIE OR TWO - YEE HAW!!!!!!

OH, how I long to see Paris in the spring! Not this spring, but the next - when I am in my new house and need to furnish it with delicate, hand picked antiques from the real French flea market. To stroll the L'Orangerie... heaven! Versailles again? Why not! Musee D'Orsay? Why, of course!!! C'est la vive!!!!!

Oh, how a girl can truly dream... and dreams DO come true....

Down on the Farm

2009-01-07T18:01:00.000-08:00

In case you haven't heard, we are headed to the farm for spring break - the Amish Farm!!!! That's right, we are taking the fam on a fun-filled vacation of the back to the beginning of the food chain type for a week in Pennsylvania, Lancaster COunty to be exact. Frankly, I am truly excited!! Our accommodations have electricity and a stove and microwave, AC, etc... but NO TV!! This is so great!!! No Bakugans, Diego, Hannah Montana, World's Strongest Man Competition.... aaaaahhhhh.

But, I am confused as to why these folks call it the simple life. Seriously. There's nothing simple about plowing a field with a horse drawn plow. Or harvesting the same field with out modern machinery. This sounds rather hard and laborious, if you ask me!

Plain people - this term I comprehend. They wear no jewelry, don't cut their hair, dress very modestly, no make-up... I get that. And I think it might be kind of refreshing to sans a make-up for a week. Plain, yes. Simple? I think not.

The family we are renting guest quarters from has three boys the ages of our older kids, and the mom is delightful on the phone, which is in the shed, and used only for the guest house booking purposes. I am looking forward to meeting them - and she said her boys would be so excited to play with our kids!

Which leads me to a new problem (as if I don't have enough): I have to get these kiddies into disciplinary shape before we go, as Amish kids are much better behaved than the average houligan! Last thing I want is for my kids to corrupt theirs - sheesh! Talk about guilt! So, I have gotten out the hard hat and drill sargent whistle... game on gals, game on!

WHERE R U?

2009-01-06T19:12:00.000-08:00

So surprised to see NO comments to my last blog... the one about the weight loss Christmas card? Keep up, people, keep up! Well, the New Year had to come in with a bang, as #3 decided to shake his groove thang while standing on the edge of the bathtub (we have never, nor will ever demonstrate this move... or any move naked on the edge of the tub - he's 4 1/2, it was his own original idea). This resulted in the right front baby tooth being SHOVED up into the gum ALL THE WAY, and in the process nicking the bone; that's what happens when you fall and slam your mouth - teeth in particular - on the edge of said tub. OUCH!!!! Also, he moved a few other teeth, but they will be OK. We are praying for the tooth to come on back down.

I just want to let you know that not only will he need therapy for this, but so will I. Folks, we are talking SERIOUS pain and LOTS and LOTS of blood... and shaking, on both parts. I'm still having nightmares! Now is NOT the time to cut back on the Diet Coke, Elixir of Life.

The Hub did a nice thing - he bought me a Sonic gift card for Christmas... loaded with $100!!!! Whooo - hooooo!!!! Or, so I thought until he made the snide comment about how quickly it would dwindle with my current DC habit. Which irritated me... because he's right. And that irritated me too! So, this morning I cooked his goose... I pilfered through his wallet for a nice crisp $20 with which to purchase my beverages. HA! Now, I'll just use some of his wallet's cash (b/c, you know it is all 'our' money), and my Sonic gift card will last much longer than anticipated by the Snarky Hub, and I will win! And he will not be the wiser! He might think I've cut back and quit riding my case (OK, he's so laid back that it really isn't riding, or nagging, or even suggesting,... more like a benign comment here and there... or more there; but for the sake of this blog, he's relentless!!!). I am a genius. GO ahead, adore me! I know, I know, I am again your hero!!!!

*NOTE: I would type 'heroine', which is the female of hero, but it looks like I am comparing myself to an illegal mind-altering substance, which I am totally against using. And I am not comfortable with that comparison at all. In fact, I have a wedgie, and am not comfortable period.

But, as I type, I am heating water for a delightful glass of Nas-Tea. Sound delicious? Guess again. I bought this 'tea' (it really is high quality oolong chinese tea) off the internet after reading about its natural antioxidants and surprising appetite suppressant effect. Well, I can tell you their secret on the latter part really easily... it tastes like a dirty dishrag has soaked in greasy water for a few days in 140 degree heat with a side of wafting dog poo. Seriously. It is NAS-TEA!!!! And this is what I call it!

Now, it may have enough antioxidant properties to counteract all my DC consumption, but no special recipe can knock that taste, I tell ya... IT.IS.BAD. But, I spent money on it (OK, I have done stupider things you know... no need to bring any of those up now though), and I will therefore drink it. And I am almost through my first box!!! OH, yea, I have more than one box - yeah me.

Funny thing, though it doesn't really suppress my appetite (must be one of those unlucky ones), I have actually acquired a taste for the tea. Sure hope it isn't like the Greek gum....

Those New Year Resolutions

2008-12-28T16:40:00.000-08:00

For those of you that were not aware, I don't 'do' resolutions at the beginning of a New Year. I feel like if you want to change something, then do it. No need to wait 'til January 1st, or Monday, or next week. Just get on it.

But this year may be an exception. Oh, yes, something happened to precipitate this; be patient, I'm getting to it.

Today I received a holiday greeting from my former boss at BRMC, a fellow dietitian. Not surprising, as we send Christmas cards every year, and the occasional birthday card... and that is all. I have no other contact with her through out the year, except the incidental 'bump into at Wallies' or something like that. So, no surprise. This year, she'd written a lovely message inside and included what looked like a copy of a newspaper article - I thought perhaps something that made her think of me. Oh, was I apparently right.

Like me, she has a blog. Big surprise. She suggested that I check it out sometime. Sure. No problem. Or so I thought. Then, I glanced at the article. My jaw dropped. It was a full fledged article about the First Place 4 Health Christian weight loss program she directs in town, and a nice little note about how I might want to come.

I S*&@#$% YOU NOT!

She actually sent this to me, after seeing me maybe once IN A CHOIR ROBE ( not the most flattering attire ) since the birth of #4. I weigh a little more than the pre-baby weight, but if you read carefully, you will see that I HAVE HAD THYROID PROBLEMS!

I stood in the kitchen totally speechless... totally. I don't think I have ever told someone outright that they are a fatty and need to lose a few 'lb's'. I don't think I ever would! Weight is something very personal, and everyone has their own issues about their body and body image. But apparently, her 'boundaries' are not the same as mine, and she failed to see that suggesting I join The Biggest Loser via a Christmas card wasn't exactly sharing the spirit of Jesus!!!!

I am completely stunned and obviously offended. The size of my derriere is my friggin' business, folks, and I would appreciate it staying that way. (no talking amongst yourselves, hear?) The fact that the Hub has yet to pack my bags and load me onto an aircraft carrier headed to the Chunky Farm means that I am not at critical mass... yet.

And so, I have decided to make a New Year's Resolution:

1. I resolve to take Miss "You look like two ton Tessie" off my Christmas Card list. And I'm writing Santa. And telling her mother, or God, whichever is easier to access.

And I'm thinking about sending her some type of nasty comment on her blog... just thinkin', mind you...

Twas the Night of Christmas

2008-12-25T16:43:00.000-08:00

The eve of the 25th, the end of the day, the last dance, the last hooray... you follow? Well, I have come up with the twelve signs of a successful Christmas:

12. You are out of paper: wrapping, packaging, parcel, tissue, toilet - you name it, you're out!!!

11. You have hauled six trash bags to the garbage bins. (seriously. six.)

10. The bank called and said we need to have a 'come to Jesus meeting'.

9. The kids are glazed and dazed and speaking Wii speak from seven straight hours of Wii (singing: Wii wish you a Merry Christmas, Wii wish you a Merry Christmas...)

8. You find a tag from 'All of Us' to 'Satan Incarnate/ Mr. Peebody'. (this was NOT my idea)

7. You find a tag from 'Your loving family' to 'Fat Annie - we love you' (nine year old girls are very sentimental)

6. Dinner isn't an option; not tonight, and tomorrow doesn't look good either.

5. You blog in the same room with Fat Annie's 'sick' kennel, and her potty pads, and she's pooped, but you are too tired to clean it up, so you just sit there, typing, smelling...

4. Your kids haven't really fought all day because they are too busy playing (HALLELUJAH!!!!)

3. Said children have not asked to have a friend over (MIRACLES DO HAPPEN).

2. No phone call from your kids' pesky friends to play (THiS IS THE BEST CHRISTMAS MIRACLE E_V_E_R_!!!!! Can we do this eVEry day? That's my grown-up Christmas wish)

And the Number One way to tell you have had a successful Christmas:

1. You find yourself eating the same cookies you made with the kids last night for Santa that you OD'ed on, swearing you never wanted to see a cookie or icing again; not only eating the cookies... but the BIGGEST one, dipped in the leftover icing!!!!! I call THIS dinner!!!!! I know,... I am your HERO!!!!!

Oh, and The Hub and I have been voted PARENTS OF THE YEAR - you lose!!!! Yep - the surprise Wii was a hit (please refer to list above), and a complete surprise! the Masses know that the Hub and I don't really favor video games that just have you sit and stare, or that are violent - and since it is our job to determine and decide - we have, to date, only purchased Leapsters, and V-Tech video learning system. After many months of thoughtful consideration, we spent another month investigating the Wii, and feel that it meets our specifications for safe and educational, and ACTIVE fun. Like anything, there will be rules as to when and how long we can play. But they have it!!!!! And not one of the older three requested the Wii - which made it even sweeter.

And on that note, the stench in here is nauseating, and I've gotta go clean up her mess. Yes, tomorrow I call the vet to see if this is a side-effect of her injuries. Anything to excuse her complete lack of consideration to my olfactory sense or new carpet!

Fa la la la la (burp)

2008-12-17T14:37:00.000-08:00

Yes, I may need some serious alcohol by the time New Year's rolls around. Not everyday one gets to find an errant hammie, carry the injured dog out four times to potty, carry the other dog, Mr. Pee-body aka Satan Incarnate, out to the 'potty' about 5 million times, change baby's poopy diaper twice (countless pee diapies), and feed the Masses and all of the fur family to boot!!! Can you say Wonder Woman (oh, and yes, I would have satin tights - with diamonds, baby!)

All in all, I'd say that I have been a VERY GOOD GIRL!!!!!

WOW!!!! Fat Annie has some serious gas - shew-eee!!!! Guess all that pain medicine and lack of activity has made her a little gassy? M-E-R-C-Y!!!!!!!!!!!! Someone get me a gas mask - gasp! AAAACCKKK - I'm suffocating in here!!!!!!

Well, through the cloud of green farts I can see to type to tell you that I am almost ready for the Big Holiday. And, really, who doesn't know which one I am referring to? I figured out why the Catholic/ Orthodox church chose December as the time to celebrate this giant holiday. Oh, you know you are on pins and needles waiting to hear my crazy explanation. OK, here it is:

If we had to start the year off with this kind of celebration, we'd just give up. We couldn't get bigger and better all year - too exhausting! Really - does the 4th 'take it out of you' physically and financially the way Christmas does? Have you ever uttered the words:' if I can just make through Labor day to Halloween, I think I can relax then?'

NO. YOU HAVE NOT. No one has. Because those holidays aren't celebrated to the extent that the birth of Jesus is.

Question is, why don't we make a bigger deal of the Resurrection - after all, if He'd stayed dead, He'd have just been another prophet...

TIs the Season to Be Moo-ing

2008-12-16T15:31:00.000-08:00

Well, I missed a fun holiday party last evening - one that we could take the kiddies to - because we had two fevers, one case of the die-ugh-ree, and two pink eyes. So, the hostess a darling wisp of a gal, brought us leftovers!!! Now ain't she sweet? I'm on to her sinister plot though,... take the leftovers to the Wilsons so that THEY can get all piggy and fat, not me! Well... it's working.

No sooner had she started her car than the Masses began circling me like vultures over a dying rabbit. What's that? Is that for us? I'm hungry! And on and on until after sixty seconds of the constant verbal abuse I caved and heated 'em up and served the fam. Yumity -yum-yum-yum... and MOO MOO MOO!

Amazingly, my kids ate artichoke dip, stuffed mushrooms, dip on their fruit, crazy, huh? Now we all know that if I'd have spent hours slaving over a hot stove, whipping and tossing, sauteing and stuffing, that not one of the Masses would have touched a bite - they'd have rather starved!!! But, since this delightful and dear gal made it, it is the food of the angels above (which we thought so too, but mentioning that doesn't help my point here). Fickle little devils!!! Thank goodness I have more delicacies for tomorrow night - yeah me!!!

And in other news: Fat Annie Found at Local Animal Hospital

Fat Annie was located, thanks to the diligent work of her owner, at a local vet clinic. She was struck by a car in her escapades Saturday evening, and carried to the clinic by a concerned citizen. Fat Annie suffered a fractured pelvis, but is expected to make a full recovery in a few weeks; until then, she will remain at home with her loving family. Thanks again to the wonderful couple who rescued her and sought medical care for her. "We are using this time to renew our bonds with Fat Annie and help her heal. We are all here for her", commented fantastic owner. Good luck, Fat Annie.

Gotta go pet my doggie...

The Chronicles of Ninnia

2008-12-15T18:10:00.000-08:00

So, folks, I hereby claim this title: "The Chronicles of Ninnia" for my up and coming book, which I thank all of you working so hard and definitely overtime to secure the deal (get on it Andrea - work it, girl, work it!) Last night, the Hub misspoke when asking me if I'd like to watch the Chronicles of Narnia, the fantastic series which will no doubt pale in comparison to my epic tale. Seriously. And, the title was born! So, I am going to print off all these blogs and emails, and voila - a book! Better camp out now for your signed copy!!!!

And update on the War of the Sisters: Former SSF signed me up for an AARP membership, and I laughed so hard I cried!!!! She's the one people think is MY mother!!!! Ha ha ha ha!!!!! I'm thinking hard, my friends - so hilarious!!!! I can count 5, maybe 6 times she's been referred to as my mom or someone else's mom... hee hee hee!!!!! In fact, it happened so many times in one week that it kind of sent her into a crisis: new hair style, new exercise kick, new paranoia... she always thinks I am looking at the top of her head. She is just very reserved on first impressions; not surprised she knew the AARP website so well, though!

On other news: Fat Annie Still At Large!

Yes, I spent the better part of the day calling radio stations, the paper, the local vets, and the animal shelters looking for a lost, portly, female beagle, to no avail. The Hub reassures me that most likely some benevolent soul with closets full of dog food is sheltering her during this arctic storm, and that she is warm and happy, and happily eating THEIR furniture. I'm OK with this illusion; I do hope she's OK though.... Our gate, which is routinely climbed OVER rather than OPENED by two or three boys and a few girls, blew open in Saturday night's winds - Fat Annie the Very Bad Dog took it as a sign from God to 'run, Annie, run'! And she did. Since she's a hound dog, I would think she could smell her way home (she leaves enough pee-mail when we go on walks), but she isn't done 'ho-ing' around I suppose. Ho Ho Ho!!!

Keep praying she comes back - I feel like we should try to take good care of her,... and I don't want to hear #1 bawl about this for weeks! There goes MORE money for the therapy fund, sheesh!!! "And I remember when our dog ran away during an ice storm, and she NEVER CAME BACK (breaking down into sobs)!!!!!"

I don't need more guilt,... really. Well, gotta go plot revenge ...

The Great Panty Raid

2008-12-13T17:06:00.000-08:00

I have a few things that particularly delight me:

the baby belly-laughing

me belly-laughing

the fresh, crisp taste of a Sonic Route 44 Diet Coke, especially at Happy Hour

a delightful glass of La Crema Chardonnay (can you say 'smooth and buttery'?)

my kids playing nicely together

a scrapbook magazine in the mailbox

I only go to the mailbox anymore with the hopes that I'll be rewarded for my walk with a nice, new, crisp (very into crisp, evidently) scrapbooking magazine waiting anxiously to be read ( and I bet they are anxious to be opened, folks). I have been known to disappointedly put the mail back in the box because it wasn't what I wanted; I do eventually bring the mail in after a few disappointing days, to make room in the mailbox for a magazine, of course!!!

So, today, my dear friend Sister Lunch Lady (oh, and she needs to be sooooo glad that I didn't change her back to Sister Whoopi after yesterday at the Spa and today's evil-doing! Just shows how unbelievable GREAT and FORGIVING I am!) was with me and I pulled the passenger side of the UDM, where she was sitting, up to The Box, and asked her to please grab my mail. And low and behold to my wondering eyes what did appear, but a Creating Keepsakes my dear (had to make it rhyme.)!!!! Well, Sister Sticky Fingers thieved, denied it, and I sooooo busted her!!!! What kind of friend, let alone Sister, repays your love and kindness by stealing one of the things that brings you the most joy? Sister Sticky Fingers (aka, Whoopi, and Lunch Lady) that's who! So, I did the only thing I knew to do...

I stole her panties. Not just one pair... all of them... the clean ones, that is. See, she is at a Christmas party and not at home, and her darling daughter was babysitting for me and I had to drive her home. And I stole each and every pair of skivvies she owns - which it turns out is quite a few... I have never seen such a crammed full panty drawer!!! She probably only has to wash once a month, or once a year!!!! It filled a 13 gallon Hefty Tall Kitchen Garbage Bag! THat is some serious panty action, there my friends!

Oh, I left a note, for sure! Can't wait 'til she finds them ALL GONE tomorrow morning!!! Paybacks are hell, and so is commando on a cold (think 27 degrees) December morning...

Loggiarrhea

2008-12-11T18:52:00.000-08:00

I obviously have no idea how to spell this REAL condition that I had referred to prior 'til now as 'diarrhea of the mouth': a condition of not being able to stop talking, often to the point of revealing private, or ANY, information about other people entrusted to the speaker. My FIL informed me that this is a TRUE and REAL diagnosis, and my daughter and sons (#4 isn't saying much, but she does make noise...) have it. In fact, once I learn how to correctly spell it, I'm going to start a support group!

I'm thinking about the Loggiarrhea Silence Center. What do ya think? Frankly, I'm up for those zero noise earphones after a roadtrip with FOUR children.

And, I've developed the necessary 'White Trash-ism': it shall be called 'The Loj-ah-ree"!

My work here is done!!!! And now, for a moment of silence...

Food and Whine

2008-12-06T15:15:00.000-08:00

So, toady I receive my monthly edition of Food and Wine. I am not really sure why I still get this magazine - I rarely have time to read it, and it isn't like anyone besides myself and the Hub would eat these lovely gourmet meals. But I still get it; so, today's cover boasted easy to prepare, simple meals we MUST try!!!! Ok, maybe they used fewer exclamation points.

Anyway, I flipped through the periodical to the desired section, where I found exactly ONE recipe that I thought would not be a complete waste of time! First, many of these delightful recipes feature shellfish - big no-no for us because #3 is allergic to shellfish (I no longer steam lobster tails). Secondly, because I basically live in a very scenic and attractive middle-of-nowhere small town, I couldn't find this and that 'fresh' if my life depended on it. I can just imagine asking the butcher for a squab! Anyway, I think I hang on to this hobby of the past because it makes me feel somewhat glamorous, less 'wipe the dried animal cracker sludge off my back', you know?

There will be a time for the fine china and silver, it just isn't now. Now is for teaching the masses to sit to eat, chew with their mouthes closed, ask politely for things at the table, wait until Mom sits down before you start eating, use a fork... no, not which fork to use, I mean literally USE A FORK! Things such as keep your feet off the table are important right now. China comes later.

So, I also have to tell you what I heard some tweens talking about last night: their MySpace accounts, or lack of, and who's been cyber-stalked. Nice! Apparently it is prestigious to claim stalking. Of course, none of these little munchkins fully understands that they are perishable... but their parents do. No doubt, most of these girlies are telling a tall tale about their cyber-stalker; but it makes me wonder about society today when our youth consider it cool to have your health and well-being (or LIFE) threatened? I think it's time to cut back on the boob-tube, and you-tube, and any other 'tubes'. And do their parents know? At least two girls had MySpace pages that their folks were unaware of, and one girl was going to get one without permission. They also discussed who'd had their first kiss. Again, don't remember this being such a huge deal.... SO, moms and dads, keep your eyes and ears, and cyber-senses alert - and the porch light ON - hey, I can flicker mine!!!!

The Hallmarks of a Successful Vacation

2008-11-30T10:15:00.000-08:00

There are specific hallmark characteristics of a successful vacation. You may experience some or all of the following:

1. Exhaustion. (best cured by excessive Cheetos intake)

2. Lack of Cash Flow (or any flow; think the well has dried up, nothin' but lint, start hockin' your old stuff on eBay - I can hear the debit card crying and the bank laughing... not good)

3. Physical, Bodily Pain (most likely from carrying all four children and their luggage - mostly non-necessary items - sometimes ALL of it at once, followed by sitting still in a car or plane or train for at least 17 hours straight)

4. Intense Desire to be Alone (this is called being 'peopled out', and specifically is in reference to the people you just spent eight days in a car/hotel/hotel bathroom with).

5. Loss of Verbal Skills (really, what more could you have to say to these people?)

6. Dazed Look (and confused at how so few people could dirty SO many clothes in ONE day!)

7. Disrupted Sleep ( because everyone is in their bed and no one is kicking you or stealing the covers/pillow/ whole bed; also caused by getting up in the night to change the laundry or it'll be Christmas before you're caught up!)

If you or someone you know is experiencing one or more of these symptoms, medicate with copious amounts of Diet Coke and Cheetos. There is hope!!!

My New Editor

2008-11-30T10:12:00.000-08:00

Apparently, Blogspot has decided to edit my The Great Fleecing Blog without prior notification or precedent; we are now at war. We are greatly relieved that Our New Editor has decided to leave the definition of the Fleecathon: the Great Fleecing in place for all to see! Add this to your vocabulary next family vacation. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you; I'll be in therapy for the stiffling of my creativity!

The Great Fleecing

2008-11-26T16:33:00.000-08:00

Oh, the great fleecing,... The Fleecathon: when parents are stripped of their money in an effort to create lasting fun, family memories that will enrich and enhance the lives of all family members; any time a parent hands out money hand over fist in order to placate a child or children in an effort to promote, or simply maintain, peace and harmony on a family vacation;

Days 1,2,and 3 of Roadtrip '08

2008-11-23T19:30:00.000-08:00

Well, we've successfully made it through three days of the '08 Roadtrip, and we have so far had one severely cut hand (no stitches required per the Hub), and three unknown bug bites, and no fatalities. Pretty good for a family vacation!

We've had such an awesome time with Sister M'Bellish and company, and enjoyed the joys of one of the nicest, upscale malls; I do believe that I will survive the closing of the greatest store on earth! God is good, guys and dolls, God is good!

Turns out that #4 is an awesome traveler and has many adoring fans now in multiple states - she IS gorgeous, you know. We did get her some royal clothes and will stop by the royal cobbler's establishment (Stride Rite) before heading to the indoor water park extraordinaire!!! Must say I am quit happy that the Masses did not do ANY property damage at the Parkies' house - hallelujah!!!!

We have enjoyed the delicious cuisine of Matt's Rancho Martinez Mexican Food Restaurant (to which there is no comparison for the chicken chili relleno with green sauce - not red - GREEN); we then proceeded to pretend to work off our gluttony at the North Park (oh, it should be referred to with great deference and honor). Tomorrow, we will don our bathing suits and pretend to ignore the aftereffects of the chili relleno - so worth every extra mile!

If I seem a little scattered, I am now mainlining Diet Coke with reckless abandon. I think I'll need an intervention when the holidays are over. But until then, pass the 2 liter baby!!!! Well, gotta go sleep so I can get up and have more Diet Coke tomorrow!

The Rocket (as promised)

2008-11-20T20:54:00.001-08:00

Well, so far my advertising hasn't gleaned me any more followers, but I have only begun to brainwash - muh wah wah wah wah wah!!!! (Insert evil laugh and handwringing).

Yes, it is that roadtrip time of year, and in the heart of every parent that means mass chaos and a bald spot from pulling out your hair. Thankfully, with the invention of the TV in the car, the old road trip songs are much catchier - nothing like the Masses' favorite show's theme song for ten hours!!!! And, since there are sooooo any of us, and we like to haul lots of stuff where ever we go, we put the Rocket on top of my nice new ultimate driving machine (UDM).

What is the Rocket? Well, my uninformed friend, the Rocket is a suppository shaped storage device that rides on TOP of the UDM in PLAIN SIGHT advertising to the world that we have a large family and carry lots of c-r-a-p! I have threatened to paint flames and/or flowers on it (spruce it up), as it tends to nest up there - it requires two adult men to hoist up there and position correctly; this requires The Hub contacting a buddy to lend a hand, and since it is NOT HIS vehicle, he is usually in no hurry to call in a favor. It rides for MONTHS on my car... the price I pay for a week away!

No, it isn't bad enough that I drive the UDM, it now has a flying suppository attached to the top. Yeah, me. It is sooooo nifty that I had a senior citizen follow me to enquire where I purchased said lovely suppository. All I need is a track suit, fanny pack, and a Metamucil wafer - look out bingo night!!!

We are taking the fam to Tejas, and as Sister Scout says, nothing like a family vacation to land you in divorce court!!! I'm hoping there are no sudden deaths due to repeated 'are we there yets'! BUt just to be on the safe side... keep us in your prayers.

Tis the season and Bah-humbug!

2008-11-19T19:14:00.000-08:00

For those of you who don't know me so well, I am the Grinch. I love the reason for the season, though Christ was most likely born in April or thereabouts, but not all the hoopla that comes with it. And I could definitely do without the seven our eight weeks of Christmas music!!! Nothing like trick or treating to Christmas Carols!!!!

So, it is nothing short of a miracle that I wrapped my first Christmas presents today. Sister Scout just fell over, passed out cold from the shock, no doubt!!! Yep, Mrs. Claus did some online shopping, and Nana sent some gifts early, and in order to prevent nosey Masses from discovering their booty, I had to wrap.

Now, there are your Martha Stewarts.

You have the professionals at the department or specialty stores.

There are the crafty moms.

Experienced grandmas.

Up and coming wives that want impress.

Your kids.

The Hubs.

My ten month old.

And there is me.

Please note where I rank in the scale of skill - so sub-amateur that the elevator doesn't even go that low! You'd think that the invention of the gift bag would have been a God-send, but you are wrong, my friend, you are wrong. In the hands of a professional, it becomes a veritable bouquet of fluff and festivity; in my hands, it's just a fancy paper bag with tissue paper crammed into it. This is NOT my gifting.

I remember as a wee lassie, sitting at me mummies knee attempting to learn the great art of tying fancy bows (all the rage at the time - there were classes and everything!); we'd take the ribbon with the wire in it, in shades of country blue or dusky rose and twist and tie, fluff and curve. Alas, it was not to be for me. I failed the family legacy... OK, a wee bit dramatic here. I let my sister do it!

If I cared enough I might hire a professional to wrap the presents, decorate the tree (OK, the kids do it... 'nuff said; VERY bottom heavy on the ornamentation), and decorate the house, and VOILA!!! Southern Living, here I come.

But I don't. Oh, I care that Christ came, that he lived, that he died (FOR ME - whew! Glad I don't have to do that!) and that he rose again (the real biggie, along with ascending into heaven and sitting at the Right hand of God the Father Almighty, in whom is given all power and authority - that part REALLY counts!!!) - I care a lot about that!

I just don't care enough to spend all that time learning how to wrap presents. But I admit that today I hit a new low in the wrapping world - I measured wrong and ended up splicing paper together. Gosh! I feel like I've been to confession - forgive me, for I have sinned!!!

I'm really ashamed of myself. I feel like I've hit rock bottom! I admit it! I don't care about wrapping presents!!!!

This could be a turning point for me, you know? I think I might just rewrap that present...

Coming up: (yes, I am now advertising future blogs seeing as I have ONE FOLLOWER - sheesh, even David Koresh had more than that!!!) The Rocket - COOL in the terms of parenting! You won't want to miss that one, but no rush, as the Hub usually drags it out for WEEKS!!!!

Also, A Home in Mourning: Life after Pip Passes.

Let it snow, Baby!

2008-11-16T12:47:00.000-08:00

As I type, the basement is being ravaged by four boys - two are mine and two are guests. I am scarred to go down there!!!

So, why am I so concerned with snow? Well, let me explain! (like I wasn't going to anyway - this is my blog and that's what I do... yada yada yada!!!!)

Yesterday, as I dressed for the day, I daringly decided to try on the skinny jeans - the post baby jeans were getting rather roomy - so I dug them out. Believe it or not, they fit pretty well! I checked in the 'rearview' mirror... NOT BAD!!! then I turned around to straighten my shirt...

I looked like a snowman!!!!

I fainted!!!

Apparently, all my extra skin and post baby fluff had easily slid above the jeans line, and was now orbiting my waistline, beneath my boobs!!!! Yea! I have my own ring - look out Saturn, competition comin'!

I looked like a snowman with even 'balls': boobs, orbiting belly fluff, and the lower half. Seriously, I had to laugh or I'd be suicidal with shock and grief!!!! What is this stuff? It seems all loosy goosy and jiggly... could this be... SKIN? GOod grief!!!!

I have officially decided that if this satellite continues to orbit my planet, I'm taking the kids' college funds and getting a tummy tuck! Really, I think it would be for the best - kids have sane, happy momma... or kids have college education to get a good job to support their crazy, fluffy momma who wears track suits and sips Diet Coke all day!!! (hey, I wear yoga pants - waaaayyyyy different that a track suit! And I GUZZLE DIet Coke - I AM a professional, ya know) GAAAWWWDDD - I might even start watching soap operas and reading TV Guide! Lord save us all!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, and this morning, yes THIS morning, we ended Pip's vacation - Sophia and Orrin caught her and returned her to her nice townhouse sized cage. She'll have to just dream about her time under the dryer!!!!

THere's the timer for the boys' cookies!!!! Better 'fluff' my way in there (watch me wiggle, see me jiggle, cool and fruity - sure, I'm a little fruity... or is that nutty?)

WANTED

2008-11-13T20:31:00.000-08:00

WANTED:

One black and white dwarf hamster, approximately 2 inches long, beady black eyes, tiny tail. Last seen Thursday, November 13th, in the vicinity of the dryer, keeping questionnable company with copious dust bunnies. Apparently, not answering to the name of "Pip".

REWARD:

Life long love and devotion of four children and their fabulous mother, fresh carrot and apple slices, and a beagle-free habitat! Please contact owner if spotted or caught.

More Revenge for Woodie

2008-11-11T17:50:00.000-08:00

While I'd like to think that this blog will be inspiring, causing some of you to live better, fuller lives... I have a feeling I'm gonna fall short of that mark!!! Thank you, Sister Lunch Lady, for your assistance with the 'Woodie' problem. She called with a rec to try AttackSpider.com, for a realistic, sound and motion operated fuzzy black, rather large spider that drops from the eaves of the house to terrify ol' Woodie into moving!!! Love it!!!

Attack Spider costs about $15 for one, and if you buy in bulk, there's a discount. In fact, you can get a case, which is some serious Attack action (!), for $216 - I know this has to be , like 32 or something. Now, listen up - if you need that many Attack Spiders, then you have more than a woodpecker problem... you have an epidemic. In fact, it would be a whole lot more cost effective to just go with the flow and list your domicile as a woodpecker haven and habitat!

The ol' if ya can't beat 'em, join 'em theory!!! Besides, there might be some type of tax relief in providing a natural habitat for an endangered species... worth checking out, don't ya think?

So, today, as I picked up the basement (where the Masses reside), both the Hub and I noticed an offensive smell - think a skunk got hit by a car carrying a bunch of very poopy horses in the Arizona desert on a 140 degree day with a driver carrying a bunch of bottles of simulated doe urine - that's the smell.

I start investigating, once I determine that all the hammies are accounted for (didn't want to find a dead, rotting hammie). As I enter our 9 year-olds room, the smell intensifies. I start towards her bathroom... and the hairs in my nose are singed off!!! I enter the bathroom, and I am temporarily blinded by the aroma of dead and decaying - well, something dead and decaying!!!!

I steady myself against the towel rack, and forge ahead! Each step is an olfactory assault - tears are sliding down my face, I am gasping for breathe... I reach the potty... I lift the lid... and I am knocked almost unconscious by the smell...

A GIANT FERMENTING "POOH-POOH - HAUNTED - US" REARS ITS DISSOLVING HEAD!!!!!!!

AAARRRRGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Funny thing is, NO ONE will own up to it!!!! In fact, according to our kids, they haven't pooped in about a week!!!!! THereby giving them alibis for the 24 - 48 hour time frame (based on decomposition and fragrance) of said crime. Continuing to investigate...

Me vs. Mother Nature

2008-11-09T16:10:00.000-08:00

So, Mother Nature and I are at war; not the kind that comes monthly, no, I mean the REAL Mother Nature. You know, managing... well, nature. We are no longer friends.

I know, you are just DYING to know why. Well, we have a woodpecker problem. A real live, very pesky woodpecker. At first, Woodie ( like you could think of a better name!) was just an annoyance; peck, peck, peck on the window facing outside #4's window. I'd just bang on the window, or open the front door, and off he'd go.

However, as winter draws near in these here parts (of the woods), Woodie and his cozy little family are apparently looking to make a more permanent investment in property - MINE!!!!

THe Nanny (aka One Of God's Greatest Gifts) alerted me to the Woodie situation worsening - he'd pecked a hole in the stucco facing! Stupid bird!!!! One hole I can deal with. But the story doesn't end here.

Virtually overnight, Woodie shifted in to overdrive and pecked FOUR HOLES, surprisingly evenly spaced, around the upper facing of #4's window!!!!

Entrance, exit, skylight, and ventilation.

So, I called the Fish and Game Commission. The older gent I spoke with kindly informed me that woodpeckers were indeed a problem (DUH!!!), and that he'd copy some info for me to read. Also, more importantly, it is against federal and state law to shoot them, as they are endangered species!!!! ( He must have read my mind)

OH, DEAR WOODIE, IF ONLY YOU KNEW HOW IN-DANGERED YOU REALLY ARE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, now that his condo is complete we haven't heard much from him. Nonetheless, I plan on doing something about his new roost before spring is heralded by the cheeping and pecking of Woodie's progeny! But, according to the xeroxed info, there isn't much I can do effectively, long-term to rid my residence of Woodie, the Unwanted Guest. Poison is outlawed, too. Rats! Owls, falcon decoys... all have to be there BEFORE Woodie or any of his buddies come a knockin'! One can construct elaborate netted devices to keep the buggers away, but again, most only work if you erect them BEFORE your pesky new friend makes himself at home.

I am officially open for suggestions. On the Woodie situation. Let's keep it to that for now!

The Beast Goes into Hibernation

2008-11-02T07:38:00.000-08:00

OK, this is a different 'beast' than I usually refer to with the Scrapheads - this is the Soccer Mom Beast. She is defined by her excessive enthusiasm during her sons games, coaching from the sidelines, yelling behind parents taping their kids' games, and inability to sit during said games! This Beast requires Sonic DC, sunglasses, sunscreen, and a fair ref - plus a friend or two to hollar with (very important, otherwise the Soccer Mom Beast is a loner, which is NOT the norm for this particular animal!)!!!!

Also, this Beast tends to know every kid on the team by first and MIDDLE name - useful when someone kicks the ball into the wrong goal! She isn't afraid to tell her own kid to pay attention and get in there and get that ball - she does exhibit good sportsmanship when he scores his 8th goal by not yelling, yet again, 'that's my boy!!!"

THis Beast is ME!!!! I was never one to cheer at high school games or college games, and really have very limited experience in the sports' knowledge arena, but I make up for what I lack with pure enthusiasm and motherly love - and I have A LOT of that!!!!! It doesn't hurt that the boys LOVE this game, and really want to play, and play hard... that they LOVE to score, and they LOVE to hear their mama cheering for them. And I have reassurance from the HUB that I have yet to embarrass him - love the 'yet' part; nothing like a challenge!!!!

So I have the winter to regroup, save my voice, and learn a little more about the game - THE BEAST has to train too, ya know!!!! Can't wait for spring... and a full moon, and a good soccer game... the transformation will begin,... and baby, I'll be back!!!!

GOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Scrapheads

2008-10-27T18:50:00.000-07:00

This is an important story. Better crack the DC now! A few years ago, I began scrappin'; it was August of 2002 - oh, I remember it well. I then introduced a few friends to this incredible pastime and hobby, and thus was born our group,... The Scrapheads.

We got our name from the Hub, who likened us to the Grateful Dead followers in our faithfulness to each other and our cause. There were originally three Scrapheads, and slowly, we initiated others deemed 'worthy'. But, as time went on, we had to boot a few out due to their traitorous ways: these are dubbed the Sorry Sisters.

Each member of the organization has an official name, given to them by the two (remaining) founding members of our esteemed group, myself (Sister Maniac), and Sister Scout. The meaning of the name is contemplated seriously at length and even tested for accuracy and 'roll-off-the-tongue-ability'. Only when we agree is the name officially bestowed on our prized friend. Not everyone is privy to the meaning!

I just thought that you, my readers, ought to know a little bit about my Sisters, who keep popping up in conversation.... They are conversation worthy!!! Right, Sister Whoopi - hee hee hee hee hee!!!!

2008-10-27T18:25:00.001-07:00

So, the scourge of the winter has hit - the Masses have all been ill,... even the Hub, which is worse than the Masses being ill in and of themselves. I just keep my head down and hang on for dear life!!!!

OK, so I'm exaggerating a little. Artistic license. I have no real news to date, except that I have found myself fantasizing lately, and not about the usual things: I have been imagining Satan Incarnate dropping dead mid-bark!!! We bought a bark collar for Fat Annie, the Very Bad Dog, because it was that, or let the Hub target practice; collar is working well. So, one recent night as I sat enjoying my nightly apple and book (eat apple, read book), Satan Incarnate began barking his fool head off (oh, that I would BE so lucky). I did the usual - I tried to ignore him. He got louder, if that's really possible, and we risked him waking the baby up. He wants food; that's his only enjoyment in life now. So, I gave him a nice heaping dollop or two of his nasty food... he ate it and came back for more... bark bark bark... just shut up OK?... bark bark bark... what do you want?... bark bark bark... just go meet Jesus for cying out loud? do you want to go meet Jesus, 'cause I can soooo arrange that... bark bark bark... FINE! Here's your food... hope you choke on it! (GLOATING FROM THE DOG!)

Hence the new line of fantasies; not sexy, but oooohhhh so nice!

Sybil called today to tell me that she'd called and left me several messages; I didn't get them I said. Oh, well I left them; several of them. OK, what is going on? Well, I left it in the messages I left you; the first message tells you about it; the next message I left because you didn't respond to the first message I left you, and I didn't know if you'd gotten the first message or not. So, I left you another one. I didn't get them, I said; sorry. So, what's up, I say. Well, I know I left you at least two or three messages, because you didn't respond to the first one; I know I've called several times. But you obviously didn't get the messages. But I called... several times.

- this is what I WANTED to say:

OK ENOUGH - YOU CALLED. YOU LEFT SEVERAL MESSAGES. I DIDN'T GET THEM BECAUSE THE UNIVERSE IS PLOTTING AGAINST YOU AND WANTS TO CUT YOU OFF FROM ALL CIVILIZATION FOR EVER - FOR ALL ETERNITY - AND DO EXPERIMENTAL THINGS ON YOU - THEY LEFT YOU A MESSAGE ... DID YOU GET IT?

AND SHE WONDERS WHY I DON'T ANSWER HER CALLS - MYSTERY SOLVED!!!!!!!

The Hub found the retelling of this story particularly funny, because he has witnessed similar conversations in person (yes, this is a REAL person). I also find it funny,... annoyingly so! Will be screening the calls...

By the way, looky who's learning to use all the nifty-neato gadgets on the blog site? Also, guess who got and iPhone 3G??? HINT: not Sister Whoopi!!!!!

Imitation: the Highest Form of Flattery

2008-10-21T19:15:00.000-07:00

So, today, my 'former' BFF shows me HER blog complete with pic and everything - please note the update to my sight! Ain't #4 GORGEOUS? I know!!!!

So, imitation is the highest form of flattery; someone said that, I have no clue who, so I'm taking the credit for now. See how trends start? How easily they catch on? Before we know it, Grandma will have her own blog, and fill all in on her knitting groups dirty little secrets, or the latest gossip at the quilting bee!!!

Well, the Hub has been out of town for a meeting, and we have so far survived - PRAISE GOD!!! Nothing like good old Mickey D's for dinner one night. Can you say vacation from the kitchen? I made Chef Boyardee Spaghetti O's for the Masses tonight (seriously? "Chef Boyardee"?); I had soup - not so much on the canned sketti o's. All in all, we have survived in style.

Unfortunately, the Hub must miss us terribly, or be terribly disappointed in his new iPhone 3G, because when I talked with him tonight, he was G-R-U-M-P-Y! Now, I think that is wrong on so many levels! For one, he's sleeping through the night, and if he's not it is his own stupid fault!!! Number two, he has NO ONE else to take care of - no one is opening the door to the john (I hope) to ask him if they can have some juice. Number three, he's had ADULT conversation, and these folks use BIG WORDS!!! Number four, he has eaten REAL food at REAL restaurants... or better yet, has had room service where he can eat in his undies in bed with no one snitching from his plate! Number five, he has watched what HE wants to watch on the Boob Tube.

If anything, folks, he should be one truly happy camper!!! Oh, and number six, he's talked UNINTERRUPTED (wow, what a concept) on the phone or FACE TO FACE with another human being!!!

How can he be in a fowl mood? Shoot, I'd be sitting there eating strawberries with whipped cream in the favorite comfy jammies reading a really good book. So, why is he so,... well, grumpy?

Could it be that he feels a little lost in the world of normalcy and adulthood without all our familiar familial chaos? Could it be that he feels more grounded knowing that we are here waiting on him to come home, and that he'll be greeted like a hero daily? Or maybe he misses the sweet little hands and genuine hugs, and the insistent urging to play with us? Could be. Bet ya it is.

Oh, and I certainly got me an iPhone too, sister!!!

Pick Your Powers

2008-10-18T20:08:00.000-07:00

SO, I was thinking tonight that I would love to create myself as a super hero. What super powers would I have? What would people call me? Would I be immortal? Invincible? Overly muscular? Or just buff enough? What would I wear? (you knew that was coming) Certainly not satin tights, that's for sure!!!

I picture myself as the soccer mom, dashing to yoga class with my decaf green tea..., when suddenly (!), I get some sort of signal via my iPhone (ha ha ha Sister Whoopi), and I have to detour to save the world! I'd certainly be soooo techno-savvy, and cutting edge fashion cool (because my heroine has a rockin' bod); my heroine would age VERY slowly - I'd look fab at seventy; but most of all, I want one specific power... the "Do Over".

Yep, I would possess, among other things, the incredible and much coveted ability to 'reset' and do it over - with one advantage: I would be able to remember what I had done wrong the first time (hey, this is my fantasy, and I can do what ever I want)! Wouldn't that be great?

Have a fight with the Hub? No problem! RESET! Say the wrong thing? No problem! RESET! Make obscene gestures at someone in traffic, only to find out it was your pastor? NO PROBLEM! RESET!! Eat too many mini Milky Ways? RESET! Oh, I so see all the possibilities here!

Frankly, I think this is more useful that the running faster than a locomotive (who says that anymore?); who uses trains anymore, though I do love to remember the sound of the trains as I lay in bed at night as a child (yes, that's a REAL memory). I digress. What good is it if you beat the train, but have toilet paper hanging from your shoe doing so? RESET!

I would be able to redo what I messed up, and know how I messed it up! Love this idea. So many times I've said the wrong things to the Masses, and I just know they'll nail me on it in therapy someday - I'd just love to be able to take 'em back, and get it right. Or, I keep doing the same stupid thing, and wonder why the result isn't getting better. Just think: RESET! And my supergal button would have an exclamation point at the end. Life's too short to live it unenthusiastically!!

And for those of us that are raising kids, think about resetting, and finding out that you aren't the reason your kids are messed up! What if you could go back and be the perfect parent and know that it isn't all your fault. I think that'd help alleviate a lot of guilt in the world. In fact, I think it could eradicate a whole classification in the ID-9 system, and totally ruin Freud's thoughts on what makes us tick irregularly. This could be big!

ANd I'd be powered by Diet Coke. And no one would charge me for it. Or make comments on how much I consume. And I'd be able to fly. Wheeee!!!!!!

SO, WHAT WOULD YOU DO/HAVE AS SUPERPOWERS IF YOU WERE A SUPERHERO? Comment and let me know - I might need to add it to my repertoire!

Another Birthday

2008-10-12T18:58:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm a year older - sure beats the alternative! And so far, so good! I'm not into the whole birthday thing - oh, the gifts are great, but I really want time with my family and friends. This year, I asked the Hub to donate in my honor to the Project Smile, which travels worldwide repairing cleft lip and palates in third world countries at no cost to the families. THis is really what I wanted. Awesome!!! Everytime I see the beautiful smiles of the Masses, I will think of how some blessed parents are seeing the physical beauty of their child match the inside beauty.

My kids gave me scrappin' stuff, and #1 blew me away with a pillow she and Grandma needlepointed for me - she's nine (#1, not Grandma)! I am a blessed gal!!! The Scrapheads treated me to lunch and dinner, different days and different members. I felt really celebrated.

Perhaps this birthday thing isn't so bad after all. I think the celebration is more about the fact that people are glad you were born, not the mileage! Now that, I can buy into.

For Christmas, I'd like him to donate to the Backpack Meals program at a church in town - they provide weekend meals for kids that might not get enough food for the weekend, and secretly slip the items into their backpacks; they are items easy to prepare, even for a first grader. Now that says Merry Christmas all over it!!!

Why am I telling you this? Well, I got to thinking about how much I am blessed with (not Bill Gates style or anything), and I decided that it was time to start giving back. You know, adopt a family for Christmas, buy toys for kids who might not get any, work at a soup kitchen, etc. So, this is how I'm starting. Sure, we give through out the year, and donate clothes, toys, etc, but I wanted to give up something BEFORE I used it - make it really mean something - make it my gift - give my gift - be blessed because I'm gonna do with less (I have everything I need!!!) And I'd like to encourage you gals, and the hair guru, to think about doing something similar, if you are able. It doesn't have to be costly financially - make it a gift of time (decorate a tree at the nursing home?). Happy thinking!!!

Too Much Information

2008-10-07T16:36:00.000-07:00

There are certain things, that as a daughter, I do not want to know about my father... ever. So, DOD (dear old dad) and Nana came to visit, and tonight he and I drove to the pharmacy to retrieve some scripts for the Masses. When we arrived, the following scenario played out:

Me: Do you need anything, or did you want to wait in the car?

DOD: No, I don't think so.

Me: OK, then I'll be right back.

DOD: Wait there is something I need.

Me: Do you want me to get it for you? What is it?

DOD: I need some hemorrhoid suppositories.

Me: Well, put it in park - you're on your own for that one!

Yes, he wanted me to peruse the aisles and just pick him up some hemorrhoid suppositories, not cream - nope!!! Butt pills!!! You have gotta be kidding me!!! We parted once inside the doors of the Walgreens.

But that isn't all. when we got into the car, he apparently needed to discuss this a little, or whole lot, more! So, he told me how he'd run out on Sunday, but thought it would be best to have some on hand for the trip home. He's been having some problems; I prayed silently this was not genetic!!!! Then he told me about his hemorrhoid conversations with his doctor. Sorry I missed it first hand!

I love DOD, but I wasn't really ready for such personal info... I don't think I ever will be!!! But, it is good for a giggle or two!

Remember

2008-09-29T18:19:00.000-07:00

As you go to sleep tonight remember some special people in your prayers:

Our women and men in the service

The people they fight to protect

The people they fight against (God doesn't want them to perish eternally)

The children of this world... ALL the children

Their parents

The sick

The hungry

The lonely

The different

The teachers

Their students

The leaders of every nation, big or small

The followers in every nation, every single one

The single mom in line at the grocer's next to you

The elderly gentleman who waved at your kids

The server at McDonald's

The market vendor in Asia

The brothers and sisters in Christ who risk it all to share the gospel

The brothers and sisters who choose not to...

Which one are you?

From Under the Rock

2008-09-29T17:03:00.000-07:00

Well, I am currently hiding under a rock, or at least wish I was; the Hub had a Freak Out over the financial crisis Thursday, and we all spent the weekend treating our ulcers! He's not one to Freak Out, but everyone is alloted a certain number of Freak Outs, and He's officially used one; we survived the blast. Still smokin' though.

So, Saturday, I slipped into one of my beloved nursing bras (have 8 month old, remember?); and it felt odd. I couldn't quite place my finger on it until I looked in the mirror, and was greeted by the leaning boobs of Pisa! It seems that one of the underwires (the left cup) has gone AWOL!!! How is that possible? It isn't in the washer or dryer, or the drawer, or laundry basket, or the bra. So where did it go?

Several months ago I experienced the phenomenon of the broken underwire - twice!!! - causing me to explore and coin the word "bodacity" in reference to my bossom. This has, sadly, not always been the case; nor will it last, I fear. I expect the Great Exodus when I finish nursing #4 (envision the Israelites leaving Egypt). But for now, I am cursed with the repercussions of the BIg Busted Gal, as well as the oddities, such as the Disappearing Underwire.

I am still looking for the underwire, and hope to find it before my son does and takes it to school as a boomerang... this could get embarrassing.

More Dog Death Dreams

2008-09-17T16:34:00.001-07:00

TOnight as I snacked on a delicious, yet not quite up to the par of my usual Pink Lady Apple, Braeburn apple, I was seized with the incredible desire to strangle the beagle, Devil Dog. It could be that she was baying uncontrollably in the dark backyard at some poor sweet bunny - for 20 minutes straight. Doesn't her throat get sore? Now, I know some of you want to call the SPCA, and I say go ahead, cause they will find well cared for loved-by-my-children animals; I love the hammies. We do take excellent care of our canines, and thus they are still alive!!!

I used to love my dog (Satan Incarnate), but time and his aging process have made it possible for me to pray again tonight that he will go quietly to the great food bowl in the sky! As for Annie, if we get rid of her, the Masses will want a puppy, and I just got new carpet in this house so we can sell it in about a year... you see my dilemna. I anticipate that I will someday love dogs again, just not THESE dogs!

But, the Hub has just sneaked in here and asked me to do something about Annie, as she is on a bark-a-thon again - seriously - dry mouth? sore throat? hoarseness? Oh, I'd like to do something about her, alright!

And, on a side note, I want to make the point that, yes, I do have a birthday approaching; no, it is not anything special (bunch of nosey Nellies!); no, I will not tell you my exact age. Why should you care? So you can make fun of me? Say things like: "My doesn't she look good for (insert number here)?" or "how much surgery do you think she's had to be looking that good at her age?" or "you're older than I am!!!" I do not particularly enjoy birthday festivities in my honor, unless #1 (who has a definite future in party planning) plans it. And no, you can not use my daughter to plan me a party - I hate surprises, unless they are diamond-age, and then I still would rather not have it as a surprise. I think I should be celebrated EVERY STINKIN' DAY BECAUSE I AM FABULOUS!!!!! But just in case any of you darling friends of mine think it would be funny to prank me, with say, an ad in the paper????

I will avenge myself. Period. Be afraid. I spare no expense on revenge. You have been warned. More like promised. I. Mean. It. That includes you Kaci, Tigo, Jen, Debbie, Jeanne, Kelly, JuJu... I'll have to add the rest later!

JUST ASK JEN- I DO NOT LIKE SURPRISES!!!!!! I SERIOUSLY TRY TO PEEK AT THE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS!!! I AM NOT A SURPRISE LOVIN' KINDA GAL AT ALL!!!!!

WHAT DO I WANT FOR MY BIRTHDAY? Time with my friends, of course!!! To eat, drink (Diet Coke, duh), and be merry croppin'!!! I am happy that I get older every year, because the alternative is not in my plans for a while, amy the Lord will it so. But I'd like to focus more on the "aren't I lucky to be so blessed with all these great people and a fab family" than the count the gray hairs and crows feet (not really a hit party game, know what I mean?).

AND IF YOU WANT TO KNOW MY AGE? You'll have to buy me diamonds!!!!!

On the Subject of the Eternity Planning for the Dog

2008-09-17T16:34:00.000-07:00

I often fantasize of ways to kill Satan Incarnate; my current involves spontaneous combustion. His, not mine. It's a glorious day, when all of the sudden, all his barking and fussing at me causes him to swell up like an overgrown toad, or a very very pregnant lady in the heat of late August, and he just... EXPLODES!!!! then I wake up. It's just a fantasy. Darn.

I am not a really graphic person, nor a hateful person, or a vengeful person; but the dog is bringing out the worst in me tonight (OK, every night... every moment... of every day). I mean, if I was mean and hateful, I lure the half-blind, mostly deaf old arthritic leaky pup into the road at rush hour... and I have thought of it, but I'd be too guilt ridden for all eternity. I don't want him to hurt. So, I pray every night that he'll just go to sleep and go quietly to heaven, just drift off peacefully in his sleep.

And every morning I wake up and he's still here.

I'm doing penance for something!!! I've had multiple offers to 'take care of him', and several from the Hub, but so far I haven't put out a contract on him... yet... not today... golly, am I tempted!

So, until then, I am left changing his homemade diaper, and taking some comfort that he's miserably humiliated in it, and therefore I am compensated somewhat for all the misery he's caused us. Nothing like a little payback - hey, I'll take what I can get!!!

JELLO

2008-09-14T17:16:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, you're wondering what I could possibly say about this 'wiggly, jiggly' concoction that frequents soooo many of our holiday tables in various and assorted salads. But I can say so much, really!

Today, I risked my gastronomical health by dining at the home of MILLIE, who is a truly delightful woman and beyond fab grandma; the cooking thing may have passed its heyday for her. On many such occasions, I have eaten a meal at her house featuring multiple starches and the ever-anticipated jello salad (or just jello). Who knew one could do so much with Jello? Certainly NOT the makers of the stuff - they are creative, but I'm here to tell you they do not hold a candle to MILLIE!!! She has concocted her OWN DISH: "Yum - Yum". This is whipped Jello. No fooling. It tastes like air, which isn't necessarily a desired culinary goal. I am not sure why she has become so creative with Jello; it could be all the years of meal prep, but the food industry has exploded in my lifetime alone to provide creative kitchen opportunities. It could be that she gets a wild hair every now and then to work in a test kitchen... so hers has become just that. We are the lab rats.

I dread the invitation that begins with:" I've gotten a notion to do some cooking, and I tried this new recipe...", because it invariably concludes with:"I modified it, or I tweaked it, or I substituted...". BUt, the absolute worst is when she says:" I'm doing a little experiment, or I came up with...". Take your Prevacid and Tums!

She's experimental in other ways, too. I give her applause for her creativity! She's ambitious in her ideas! And, she has a fetish with freezing. The Hub has a fetish with pickles, I have a fetish with Diet Coke. I fault her not for her fetishes. I fault her for freezing!!! There is a moratorium of some sorts somewhere on how much and what can be frozen and for how long!!!! How do we get a copy? Seriously, when you can't tell what the food substance is anymore, skip the defrost and toss!!!! If it's been in there for over 6 months, you obviously didn't like it enough to want it to begin with! You probably won't like it the second time around!!!

True, I have made Turkey day dressing in a double batch and frozen one for CHristmas, which is about a month away... a month, get it? About thirty days, little more, little less. Hint. Hint.

I know, I know, you think: could jello really have sent her into such a tizzy? Well, it's more of a train-of-thought thing than a tizzy, and yes. Why? Well, in my lifetime of family holiday tables, I've eaten Jello with cottage cheese, without cottage cheese, with fruit, without fruit, with nuts, without nuts, with whipped topping, without whipped topping, with cheese, without cheese, with grated carrots, without grated carrots... but today I ate jello in a way I have never tried. I've eaten every available color of jello ever made concocted into some wiggly dessert or 'handed down from generation to generation' salad - grandma would be proud! I have never eaten what I did today.

I ATE ORANGE JELLO WITH CHOPPED CELERY IN IT. SERVED WITH THE OPTIONAL SIDE OF MAYO.

YES, MAYO.

I PASSED ON THE MAYO.

Addendum

2008-09-12T20:25:00.001-07:00

Please include: Grand Caymans, and St. Lucia. HA!

The Homebody

2008-09-12T19:50:00.000-07:00

Tonight the Hub made a grave error. He called me a 'homebody'; which, I am not. Homebodies have not traveled to Greece, Turkey, Jamaica, Mexico, France, and Italy. They do not plan to go to Germany (was a slight possibility, now a bigger one!) next summer. They do not travel in the US, even. They stay at home. I'd like to be home more than I am, 'cause, frankly, I have a scrapbook room that needs some work, you know what I mean? I have four children (my full time job), and the Hub (the OTHER full time job), six dwarf hamsters and two dogs; I do not stay home!

All this came about because I went to pay my cell phone bill b/c Homeslice Hub hasn't done it, and they are now sending threatening messages via my phone; once there, I discovered this nifty Blackberry phone that I thought would be truly GREAT for my birthday - I am obviously wrong (according to some sources, who shall remain unnamed for now, but we know who I am talking about). FYI: he has a tendency to pay bills once a month, and therefore, we have most on auto-draft as he tends to be late (oh, how I have had to rescue us with the gas/water/electric co. at my door b/c he forgot to pay the bill - yes, we have the money; he doesn't have the time - pokerstars is a demanding mistress; so is politics).

Back to the story: the Hub, I thought teasingly, told me I didn't need to hook up to the internet in my car - we have it right here at home. We exchanged witty banter which came to an abrupt screeching halt when he said I was a homebody, and I didn't need to text or email while driving (OK, any idiot knows that is NOT a good idea... DUH! And though I am exceptionally skilled, I value my life and that of my children - the Hub's insinuation that I would do that... absurd!)! This he meant. The homebody thing.

Apparently, I don't look like just any idiot, but one that needs this explained. Thanks. But, I can overlook that, because he's a fool in his own right, but the homebody comment... that means war.

So, I got to thinking (about ways to off him in his sleep... one eye open, buddy, one eye open) about my role as a stay at home mom - one which I feel particularly blessed to have (seriously). And I began to wonder if the fact that I often (always) put aside my own agenda for the good of my family and kids is really beneficial to them? Do they see this self-sacrifice as a strength (like I do), or a weakness (like the Hub must)? I always thought that with the Hub's inability to be available b/c of his job, that I had to schedule things either conveniently for him, or hire a sitter, or rely on help from the G's, that I was doing my job as a mom, even when it meant saying no to myself.

But am I teaching my kids, and the Hub that I don't matter? Will they come away seeing that I love what I do, and give up things for them as a choice that I make from LOVE? Or will they think I'm weak? Will the Hub look at my sacrifice and think: "What about her dreams?"

I think about my hopes and dreams, personal accomplishments and agendas, and I wonder if it's time to take them off the back burner. Maybe it's time to turn up the heat on some of my projects, and see how the Hub handles it. It requires much more from him than I think he understands, for me to want more for 'me'. Less for 'him'.

The question isn't whether or not I am a homebody; anyone with kids would tell you the days of June Cleaver are long gone, sister! I do enjoy being at home, relaxing, being in 'my space' - and I should. He enjoys it too!!! The real QUESTION: can he take the heat?

Addendum

2008-09-10T18:03:00.000-07:00

Apparently, for not going to the fair parade, I am sentenced to paying penance: I will now accompany not one, but TWO children to the Fair for a school tour - yea!!!! But not to suffer alone, I have recruited the Hub to go to the third child's tour! HA!!! And poor #4 is just along for the ride, so to speak (actually, little 'Barnacle Betty' will ride in the Hip Hammock, so she will literally ride.) SHe doesn't care as long as she's with me... all the time. Gotta go rescue "BB" form the Masses...

What's Fair is Fair

2008-09-10T11:59:00.000-07:00

THANK YOU, SISTER, FOR YOUR COMMENT!!!! For all you other lazy-butt peeps, she's got our backs - yea!!! Not to worry, I'm gonna start packin' (I wish for Paris, but no, the fair parade).

I realized just a little bit ago that we had two conflicting events: soccer practice and the fair parade! What a colossal catastrophe!!! I don't know how I'm gonna break this one to the kids, but I know which one is gettin' ditched... the fair parade!!

Blasphemy or wisdom? Really folks, the parade is THE SAME every year, and so are the hardships involved! We have to get there about an hour early, or parking is an issue, and feed the kiddies Mickey D's, which they'll get anyway, and wait for the stupid thing to start, and it's usually hot and humid, and today might drizzle a little (and my hair looks too Jaclyn Smith fab as I saw the Hair Guru today), and I'm going to opt for the no show! ANd the route is on the main drag, so until they block the street off, we have to constantly keep suicide vigil lest one of them decide to dart into oncoming traffic. AND there is the whole candy issue.

Parade walkers/ floaters throw candy. Lots of it. And the children madly scramble after it amongst other children with vehicles and tractors or horses slowly rolling by. And there are always some kids that hog more than their share - last year it was MY kids, so proud - and they fight about it... should I go on? Needless to say, parades aren't my favorite thing with kids. And there's a Christmas parade, and a Valentine's Parade, and Fourth of July Parade, and A 'Whatever ' Parade... OK, not so many, but we've got some seriously parade happy people around here!!! And parade happy attenders, which reminds me of Sister O'Well, who will no doubt be on the front lines grabbin' candy with the best of 'em (and her grandson - she's teaching 'em younguns right!!!)

But alas, heretic that I am, I will be on the other side of town at the soccer fields, happily smelling turkey poo!!! I'll take the latter!

Baby Bullies

2008-09-08T18:07:00.000-07:00

True Story. Translate: I poop you not! Today, #4 experienced her first encounter with a bully. The older child, all of 18 months old, scowled at her and repeatedly tried to or did (fast little devil) snatch #4's butterfingers from her mouth. I repeatedly told the little girl/monster,"No, no! That's not nice! She likes to suck on her fingers!", or "Be careful, you might hurt her arm!" And, the little offender tried to scratch her and smack her chubby leg - mind you, not while granny was looking, oh no, she wanted to hug the baby when granny was watching!

Finally, the grandma (where was mom?) saw her and scolded her and slapped her hand when she reached for #4 again. I couldn't help but think to myself, who had very similar thoughts: what is wrong with your home life that you have to be so aggressive with a baby? I decided it was time to get up out of my chair after the three or four minute assault, and return later for the child I had dropped off for an extracurricular activity. That's right, this all happened in a few short minutes. What is wrong with this poor little girl that she feels so angry? Does she have siblings that pick on her, or parents that ignore her, or ... perhaps ... is she jealous of #4's obvious natural beauty????

I couldn't even begin to speculate, but I'm gambling jealousy is in the picture somewhere! I couldn't believe this blatant display of aggression from a child so young towards another child she doesn't even know. #1 expressed anger towards #2 when he was an infant, but she was really unhappy that he'd come along and challenged her position (we are still trying to help her understand that the world doesn't revolve around her - shock!) But this was sibling rivalry; today's episode of bullying was different. I'm sure there is psycho-babble to explain what happened, but I can tell you what will happen... I will not let this little vile, evil critter ( OK, that's a somewhat strong language, I admit) near my beautiful angel again!

Now, Me and Myself want to point out that it is really inappropriate that I've taken this story and manipulated it into discussing #4's unbelievably breathtaking beauty which transcends all cultures and time, and I would like to apologize for that sometime, just not now! In fact, I'm pleased with how this has taken a turn from a rather sad, shocking tale of rural infant gang warfare to 'thinking on things that are good, lovely, true,...' (I would quote the scripture from the Word, but I'd have to stop and look it up).

Oh, and I called the Impact Martial Arts instructor and set up a private lesson for #4; we shouldn't have this problem again!!!

On the Start of Soccer Season

2008-09-08T15:10:00.001-07:00

Aaaahhhh, the start of soccer season! This will be our third season (which is actually fall and spring), and I really look forward to stripping my vocal cords at my 7 year-olds' games. They are seriously fun!!!! And my 4 year-olds' games will progress from 'bunch' ball, to the free-for-all kickfest! Nothing like spending a Saturday morning inhaling the nearby turkey farms' offal along with my morning Diet Coke! I mean, you haven't lived until you've frozen your keester in the porta-potty in November relieving your bladder!!!!

And nothing smells as good as good ol' soccer field dirt... which means that my children will be forced to strip nekkid before they get into my nice new Platinum Level Vehicle. But talk about scrapbook opportunities!

So, I packed the kiddies 2 & 3 off to soccer practice with the Hub, and await the funfest of an extra dance class for #1, as she is going to dance at her dance school's exhibition at the Baxter County Fair, aka the Baxter County Freakfest. Yep, fall is here, and the Fair is near!!!

I wouldn't miss the fair for the world! Where else can one go to catch up on the latest in animal husbandry, and the experience known as "the variables of genetics". Friday and Saturday nights are the best, but the real freaky people come out after dark, so stay at least 30 minutes after the sun sets; this is really telling, isn't it? They only come out after dark? Get it?????

I've always wondered why the tattoo parlors/ studios/whatever are so popular here. Now I know. ANd it is really only a select group that falls into the freaky category (and having a tattoo does not a freak make - plenty of normal folks have 'em too) and these folks have an abundance of 'tatts', and piercings, and chains... with the piercings, and mohawks and other spiked hair-do's. ANd here is where I digress...

The mid to late eighties spawned the punk look which evolved to goth with all its black, spikes, and mohawks, which then evolved into grunge, which then moved to alternative, and appears to be cycling back, this based on latest fashion magazines (hint: if it was BAD to begin with, why go back? Were leg-warmers ever really a good fashion choice?). So, I look at all these freaky folks and think not how far out and wild they are, but how unimaginative and retro... can't they come up with something NEW?????

I am so BORED with spikes and chains and black and piercings and nipple rings (the last one was just to see if you were paying attention!)!!!!!

I admit I have been tempted in the past to get a tatt, but I imagined 1) the pain (no thanks), 2) what it would look like when I am old and wrinkly (NOOOO thanks!). What are these kids gonna do when they hit their eighties and they have hair growing out of their nose piercing? Or they have to trim the hair in and around the brow ring? What is they have crazy eyebrows and you can't even see the ring? What a waste!!!! And think about a SAGGY tattoo from weight gain, or one with stretch marks (from pregnancy or beer, or both).

And just ponder the mental anguish of some poor healthcare worker when they change your depends and see a withered old teddy bear winking back at them. Nice. No, I'm all for fashion forward, not backwards; I'll pass on the 'Material Girl' look and leg-warmers - I'd rather be cold at the soccer field.

On the Subject of Putting the Masses to Bed

2008-09-04T18:53:00.000-07:00

My apologies for yesterday's venting - THe Hub addressed the situation with the cyber-bully Superior Dude, and all is peaceful in Cyber Land once again. No more Katie Bashing, unless dully warranted - and we all know there are plenty of valid opportunities!!!!

So, tonight I have whatever nasty virus the Masses have sooooo lovingly shared with me, and pretty much feel like walked on ground in eaten by worms horse poop. And very snotty. In fact, I question how much snot the human body can produce. Surely, I've reached max capacity! I'm sportin' the raw red spot at the base of the nares ... nice!

And this is why I want the Masses to GO TO BED! I took some cold medicine (nighttime formula), and I feel gooooood!!! I want to enjoy my legal cold-medicine high in peace - besides, I was having a nice conversation with ME, Myself, and I, and we were really get somewhere with the whole solve world hunger thing. But, #3 has come upstairs 4 times now, for various lame, made-up reasons, and frankly, I'm about to lock the basement door and plug my ears to block out the screaming! I'd pay serious money to go to bed this early! I'd pay even more to have some chocie - milk and a show and then go to a nice cozy bed, get kissed on the head and have someone turn out the lights, and say 'nightie-night'!!!

Isn' t it ironic how we fight sleep as infants and children, avoid it as adolescents and twenties, and then when we can't have any b/c of having babies, we crave it like chocolate and Diet Coke (oh, you know you do!) , which is how we get hooked on chocolate and Diet Coke! Are we hard wired this way, or is this some type of evolutionary mutation (this has nothing to do with whether or not you believe in evolution or Creationism... I'm talking nature vs. nurture here)?

Are we trying to catch up on all the sleep we missed during the first part of our lives? Is THAT why I am sooooo tired? Too many late nights? Brings new meaning to the phrase: "Paying for your raising"! Isn't anyone doing any research on this subject? I'd sign up as a sleep test subject - I'll sleep a lot and let ya know how I feel in the morning! Where do I report for duty?

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....

On the Subject of the Hub's Email

2008-09-03T18:28:00.000-07:00

well, before I elaborate, let me give you an FYI: the doggie diaper is working nicely. we had the new carpet put in today, and I employed said diaper, and have thus far experienced success! It has been 3 hours 27 minutes, and 43, no 44 seconds!!!!! Yippee! No pee - and doggie still alive - win- win for both of us!

So, on to our more pressing topic, which wasn't a topic until recently (like 4 minutes ago). It seems that the age-old ritualistic female-bashing is still practiced, especially amongst our more cro-mag-man species! I tend to open most of the email, as this is a family computer, and the Hub has proven in the past to only tell me things that he and the Big Names cook up until the last minute, which does tend to irritate me b/c I need a little 'plan' time. Anyway, I read a nice "Katie Bash" in one of them, relating to something years ago (I told him he couldn't go on a trip with the boys b/c he had been several places already that year for work or sport), and this fella makes some snide comment about it - my how hard I am laughing. He fails to see the responsibility-free life he leads clearly through his superior-colored lenses: he and his spouse, who won't take his surname, have chosen not to have children, mainly because she doesn't want any. Fine. I think she is perfectly capable of deciding whether she wants to be a parent; heaven knows that more people ought to make that choice - and some days I think I am not the best parent I could be! But, we have four children; the Hub has a busy practice; and he also has a myriad of time consuming hobbies. I have the right to say,"hey, enough fun for just you, Buddy! Stay home and enjoy your family so we can enjoy you!" but according to Superior Dude, I am to fault. Now, I have my faults, but the Hub will tell you that telling him he can't go do things is not really one of them. I'm good with him fishing, or golfing, or a little road trip with the boys, but don't think you get 'em all in one month!!!!! ( In my defense, he had been gone for 5 weeks out of 6 1/2 months; we had three little kids, and that is a lot for them,... and me.)

So, I hope Superior dude feels so much better about himself for 'bashing' me. I feel pretty much the same, thank you very much. Except it doesn't really do much to endear Superior Dude, and his cronies, to me; just not feelin' the love. I also, wish I didn't feel like I had to defend myself to him or anyone else. But this is one time I doubt the Hub is gonna rush in with his guns a blazin', so to speak. Funny, Superior Dude isn't whalin' on Jellyfish, who attends NONE of their functions, b/c of the BLack Widow (she hates all Jellyfishes' family and friends). His lenses must be awfully foggy!!!!

So, (here it comes, another cosmically enlightening message), I don't think we should have to justify our actions on the best behalf of our families to anyone, and I think others ought to take into account that they haven't walked in my moccasins and evaluate our behavior with that in mind... OR JUST FRANKLY BUTT OUT!!! And , so I should evaluate the behavior of others with the same open mind, and understand that there are circumstances beyond my knowledge causing their behavior and choices.

Food for thought. Oh, THe Hub wants me to stop reading his email; he'll have to prove himself first. Or better yet, why not stand up for me and tell the homies WHY I sometimes (VERY RARELY) veto his trips - and I said he could go on the one this past August, but homeslice couldn't work his schedule out. That is officially NOT MY FAULT!

He's got some choices... Door #1, or Door #2? (tick tock, tick tock...)

We're All a Bunch of Hypocrits

2008-09-01T06:08:00.000-07:00

We are. It's true. To some degree, we're all in this boat together... or are we? I think some folks knowingly or unknowingly, however the case may be, sail their own cruise liners of contradiction. I'd like to think mine is more of a dingy, but I'm sure I'm the captain of another cruise liner of some sort, or even two!!! So, I'm not without sin either... this I know; no need to start commenting NOW in order to enlighten me as to my particular sins... one by one I'm sure... I have a sister for that, thank you very much!

The Hub spoke with the Jellyfish last night, and the latter mentioned watching the Olympic events, and his usual soccer games, on the computer, as the Black Widow will not allow them to own a TV; apparently this form of informative viewing (or recreational - the choice is yours - THERE IS AN 'OFF' BUTTON, ya know!) is "beneath her",... either that or she wants to live under a rock! She'd rather read papers on her computer, about three daily - I don't know about you, but who the heck has time for that? Thirty minutes of CNN, and I'm good for the day - I know who bombed who, who married/divorced who, who' s threatening to bomb who, and what the world thinks/ is doing about it; plus, I get local weather and a little local news - works for me.

So, I really found the fact that they WATCH MOVIES, and SPORTING EVENTS, and WORLD EVENTS (like political events) on their computer, yet THe BW sees it as "acceptable", SOOOOO HYPOCRITICAL!!!!!!!!!!! I'd like to therefore, make the following announcement.

Attention Black Widow and Jellyfish:

YOU ARE NOT BETTER THAN THE REST OF US! BECAUSE YOU CAN AND DO USE YOUR COMPUTER TO ACCESS THE SAME VIEWING LINE-UP AS THE REST OF US CAN WITH CABLE, YOU ARE EFFECTIVELY EMPLOYING YOUR COMPUTER AS A (GASP!) TELEVISION!!!

IT COUNTS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU WATCH TELEVISION - NAH NAH NAH NAH POOH-POOH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So stop acting like the rest of us are poor mindless amoebas and ADMIT IT, you bunch of Pansies!!!!!!!! You watch TV!!!!!! AND YOU LOVE IT!!!! You probably want to own your own station so you can brain wash the rest of us into thinking that we don't watch TV, too!!!!!!!!!!!

Golly, I feel better!!!! Seriously, do these people think they are fooling us? Themselves, maybe, but I find their condescension with regards to this/ and everything, a thin, veiled attempt to boost self-esteem: the ol' "I'm better than you because...". And aren't we all guilty of that? I know, I said I wouldn't use this blog to write poignant essays that might change your life (this would be the example of the ol' " I think I am better that you because I obviously am...." J/K!!!), and most likely, honestly, it won't! But it has made me think about how I can change myself and stop the whole, "I'm better than you..." because we all have our quirks (yes, I do have more than the average bear).

For example, I know folks that won't drink or dance or curse or skip a day of church because of the brand of religion they subscribe to, but they'll gossip like a bluebird in springtime!!! And they look down on me, and probably talk about me too, because I make mistakes! They have to drive the right car in the right jeans and keep up appearances - heck, I'm good in The Minivan, in whatever jeans I can zip that day and I wear sunglasses so that no one knows who I am because I probably didn't finish my make-up (do I hear an AMEN?)!!!!!! I see NO WRONG in a good boogie, or a dry Chardonnay, and YES! I do curse sometimes - but I really try not to as the BIble says it's offensive to God; but it also says I'm sinful - SURPRISED???? That means that I too will gossip (or fail to use correct punctuation in said poignant essay)! So, I am no better because I get that it isn't about keeping score but about just running the race AGAINST MYSELF and keeping my eye on the finish line. I cannot lord that over those that keep score, because I do that , too.

And I watch some TV (though I think TiVo and the cell phone - which they can watch TV on too! - are among some of our greater inventions),... AND SO DO THEY! SO THERE!

There endeth the lesson, Grasshopper!

On the Subject of my Heredity

2008-08-30T16:45:00.000-07:00

Today I had a SHOCKING discovery: My father is a redneck!!!! Lo, all these many years, I thought he was simply born in a small country Texas town, and, realizing he was a misfit, rose above the dirt backroads to become a respected US Gov't Lawyer (yes, lawyers can be respected, sometimes), living in the Big City of Fort Worth with his intelligent, beautiful Junior League wife (she was the daughter of a small town farmer... hmmmm....). I was sooooo wrong!

I received an email today from DOD (dear ol' Dad), and in reply he shared some details from his childhood most alarming: skunk spraying, cow milking, hog raising, chicken feeding, coon hunting (complete with coon hounds), FFA membership,... oh, the list goes on!!!!

Now, I'd heard the hog raising stories, and the FFA membership, but never with the amount of pride echoing in his voice, the nostalgic tears brimming in his eyes, no doubt! I thought he went to the ballet/symphony/theatre because he loved it - no, it's all a sham!!!!!!! He's a redneck who after 75 years has steadfastly REFUSED TO BUY A FOREIGN CAR (except a few years with a lemon Mercedes for Mom, which made up his mind for all eternity - so I thought - that any motor vehicle conceptualized on another continent was evil and probably made by the Taliban) NOW DRIVES A BRIGHT YELLOW NISSAN XTERRA!!!!!!

THIS IS NOT THE FATHER WHO RAISED ME! APPARENTLY , AGE HAS BROUGHT SENILITY AND IT ISN'T GOING TO BE PRETTY!!!!!!!!!

He's spiraled quickly, as the car was a recent purchase. Prior to, he's drivena firetruck red Ford with fondness and pride. Where was this man when I was growing up? The Nana wants a Lexus, and he said he would rather BUY HER A TOYOTA!!!! It's like comparing Pink Lady apples with Braeburn - what's the difference!!!!! They're Both apples!!!!

I'm definitely going to need that therapy now - he is no longer the stubborn opinionated man he once was! He's willing to yield a little, maybe a lot, and venture into the world of foreign vehicles - this from the man who ridiculed me when I bought a little Honda sports coupe years ago (oh, long since traded in for the Sterling transportation choice of all mothers, the Minivan!). I could have used a little flexability YEARS ago when I wanted to apply to more than one college (not everyone Wants to go to Baylor). But that's in the past, this is the future.

And these are uncharted waters, the open road, the high seas! Did I mention that I get car and seasick?

No comment?

2008-08-27T20:34:00.000-07:00

What? Cat got your tongue? Speechless? HA! I know you gals, and you ain't speechless, that's for sure! So, tonight, I decided to check the site, and see what type of snarky replies and witty comments you have for me, and what was I greeted with? Cyber-silence. It sounds like this:" ", only a lot longer, and quieter (lonely, I'm so lonely....). Seriously. I provide a forum for all your fodder, and what do I get in thanks? " ". What do you have to say for yourselves? Nothing? I thought so! All these opinions and ideas, rotting inside the prisons of your mind - OK, that was a little dramatic, but it could be true! So, start talkin', dang it! Be funny! Be brilliant! Be YOU! (Now, don't you feel inspired?) Start typing. I'll be checking tomorrow. This assignment is due by the end of the week. Hop to it. And I'll KNOW if you slack off and procrastinate, Missy!!!

NOW!!!

Another Addendum

2008-08-26T18:56:00.000-07:00

We also add chiggerfest to tickfest, and we are totally infested; way to go Hub! He came home with some remedies for this whole problem: 1) apply baby oil to skin prior to rolling in ticks and chiggers and basically inviting them to feast on your live flesh 2) if they attack, which they will, use hairspray to suffocate them! Now, can't you see a whole posse of boyscouts carrying baby oil and hairspray into the woods?????? How and WHY did someone figure this out????? There's gotta be more to this story....

Addendum

2008-08-26T18:52:00.001-07:00

I forgot to mention that I also ordered the body to with the panties! 'Yeah' for me!!!!!

More and More panties

2008-08-26T17:23:00.000-07:00

Wow! There may not be any comments on this site, but you gals and the Hair Guru (if you are reading, which you should be), have a lot to say about the panties!!! I've had phone calls and emails, and it appears our undergarments are quite the hot topic, and I don't mean just with out significant others!

You'll be happy to know that I purchased some new panties today in the CORRECT size and a variety of eye-pleasing colors, and that they will be delivered soon. From where? Well, I felt like I was going to a porn site once I got there b/c of all the mostly naked, provocatively posed anorexic air-brushed (AMEN!!!!) barely adolescent girls modeling their undergarments and such (I use this term loosely). I went to Vicky's, of course, and I do believe that I may have developed a bit of prudishness - I was a little offended by how much flesh I saw proudly and freely displayed! What ever happened to the power of suggestion and a healthy imagination? This is definitely not a site I want the Hub going to - I'll buy my own hot'n heavy duds, thank you very much!!!

Seriously, does it stretch the mind so much to conjure uses for some lacey fabric about 2 inches square? And what about the average female body prancing around in this 2 square inches of fabric, compared to the mental image of the perfect 'I-haven't-eaten-since-Clinton-was-in-office' body with the face of an 18 y/o angel? I would like to see a real woman that's had several kids (a few by C-section) in this stuff, so I can get an ACCURATE picture of how good or bad I will look. I don't think that's asking too much. If I dare be so bold, I demand it!!!

So, I want to start a grass roots movement ! Oh, I think I just did - we need to get the message out that we want real women in real advertising! Normal, healthy gals with zest for life and the desire to wear great panties! So, girls, pick your style, pick your color, pick your place!

FYI: as the founder of this grass roots movement, I am under no obligation to model panties, undies, or skivvies, nor am I legally responsible for anyone who chooses to do so on behalf of this movement. All restrictions apply.

The Sizing of the Underwear Issue

2008-08-25T17:32:00.000-07:00

Yes, it is still an issue. So, I tell the Hub before bed about the whole panty problem, and he asks me how undies are sized... really? I then realized that I buy his skivvies, so he has no clue. I thought about this for a moment and began to giggle, he began to snore. I saved it for you.

Most people would think that it would be S, M, and L, and they would be wrong!

See, the sizing thing has more to do with the styles and the way a woman feels about her body. How so? Well, let's take a look at the classic example: the thong. This is no more a piece of underwear than a pool noodle is a lifejacket! Women who wear a thong feel GOOOOODDD about themselves, and their posterior region. They don't mind a fresh breeze coolin' things off one darn bit. They don't actually NEED panties, so why on earth would they need a panty liner? Oh, come on - you know you've seen the box in the girlie aisle and thought "if you need a liner with a thong, then today is NOT the day to wear a thong!" Amen?

And the hipster is a classic example of undies for a girl who likes to be a little trendy but not defloss herself on a regular basis; same with the bikini - only this chickie has less post-baby belly hang to reign in, if any at all. I have a sneaky suspicion that the thong girls and the bikini babes mix a lot; bet you'd find BOTH in their drawers!!!

And there's the granny panty girl (can she be called that?). She takes total comfort over fashion, and may have no interest what-so-ever in trendy dress. SHe may also be at the age where she doesn't suspect anyone will be peekin' at her bloomers, let alone ripping them off with his teeth! She may not remember the last time that happened,... if ever!!! These are not recommended clothesline fodder... they block the sun!

And what about the Spanks or 'birdles'; well, ladies, we all need a pair at one time or another, so I see no fault here - just plain old realism!

Oh, and the Hub says he DOES know how to buy skivvies for men folk, just didn't have a clue about how the women folks' breeches were sized. I'd suggest he err on the side of wild, and NEVER buy the granny panties for me!!!

On the Subject of Personal Matters

2008-08-24T18:09:00.000-07:00

I need new panties. Seriously. If I were to be in an accident, I wouldn't have to worry about them being cut off, they'd disintegrate in the ER teams hands. This is NOT the way I want to be remembered! I haven't bought new panties, with the exception of the 'birdle' (the under the bra to thigh ultra control device I wore after the C-section), since #3. Face it - it's time.

So, I went to the site that Sybil recommended as the 'best most comfortable, no panty line, no riding up place' for skivvies. And I must confess, they did look comfortable on the anorexic model displayed on my computer monitor. So, I decided to give 'em a try - why not? I select my size, based on the handy pop-up sizing chart, and the colors that I think will most fit my wardrobe, and press enter... and a little message flashes up: panties run small, order one size up!

WHAT!!!!!!??????????????

I look around the room - is there a hidden camera? Do they think I'm lying? Is some little lady around the world in an internet control room saying to her little friend: " No way!! Her butt bigger than THAT!!!!"

And why would I want to ORDER ONE SIZE UP? These are my UDNERGARMENTS, for cryin' out loud! One has to pick the correct size or suffer irreparable damage from a terminal wedgie!!! Jeans, you can SQUEEZE into, ... but panties? No way. And I know Stacy and Clinton say its not the size, but the fit,... but who are they kidding? I'm not fooled! A girl gets to feelin' all good about herself thinking, yea, I'm gonna need me this here size... not too shabby,... be lookin' mighty fine.... ANd then - WhAMMO! PSYCH! (oh, the '80's were good weren't they?) Now you're one size up and that just mentally makes your biscuits grow. I went and looked at my hiney (not naked, good heavens, I'm crazy not stupid!), and I swear it was larger than it was this morning!!!! Wrong! Now, back to our accident scene: I'd be frightened of being in an accident, and the ER staff thinking I'm one size,... but wait! Her panties are a size larger! The psychological damage alone from ordering one size up, could set me back years in therapy - which I haven't started yet, but, really, isn't it inevitable?

TRUST ME - SIZE DOES MATTER, ESPECIALLY WITH REGARDS TO PANTIES!!!!!!!!!! NO ONE WANTS TO BE THE WEARER OF GRANNY PANTIES!!!!!!!!!!

Looks like Sybil's had it in for me all along - shocking? I think not. And as for new undies? I think not. So I'm gonna wash my hole-y panties so I have some for tomorrow. WHich, by the way are the appropriate size, not that I can still read the label, but I do remember, oh yes I do! Doesn't feel like a 'commando' day to me.

Our Haunted House

2008-08-24T14:36:00.000-07:00

No, our home wasn't build over an ancient graveyard, but I do believe there are other forces at work here, besides the Masses - their work is REALLY recognizable! By now, if you read my blog, ya either think I am a) crazy, b) witty and should have my own multimillion dollar book deal, or c) am just a stay @home mom trying to find an outlet for all the whirling thoughts in my mind. But all this aside, there is definitely something strange going on in the basement.

When we finished the basement 7 1/2 years ago, the Hub needed a big screen TV (apparently he preferred Barney and Teletubbies lifesized!); he also needed surround sound - we didn't have four kids yet, and were unaware of how nice the quiet really is. So, we contacted Brad's Home Entertainment (OK, I just realized that that would be great covert name for a male escort service, "why go out when you could stay in!" - SORRY!), and these gentlemen put all the DVD players and sound stuff, and cable etc, on to ONE REMOTE which I have never been able to use properly - except for the first day - no kidding. Never. The stupid TV will not turn on for me. I loathe it!

But, it will turn on by itself. That's right. All. By. Its. Self. And it has been doing this since we had it installed! But, it doesn't manifest its powers the same every time. How do I mean? Oh, please, please let me explain!!

First, it started with sound only - I'd be home... alone... and I'd hear the TV come on to some show, yes a show, BUT NO PICTURE (du duh duuuuhhh!). And only when I was home alone, never with just Matt here (the toddlers don't count - they're ALWAYS here). Odd. Then, I'd get sound AND picture - yippee!! Matt thought I was CRAZY! But, when we moved to Dallas for a year,... no strange TV happenin's. Did they resume when we returned? Oh, yes they did! And so we had Brad's come out again to see if they could straighten it out. No issue for them though - our ghosts are smart!

Now, the ghosts are really ticked that I've become complacent about their presence, and have switched to black fuzzy screen mode on maximum volume, and they hid the universal remote!!! This is really quite irritating, as I have to truck downstairs to turn off the TV and the thousand or so things hooked up to it,... I'm willing to call a truce, but so far the ghosties ain't negotiating.

So, today I drew the proverbial line in the carpet... i only turned half of the things off, and the volume DOWN! Ha! That'll show 'em I mean business!!!!

On the Subject of The Hub's Fitness Fanatacisms

2008-08-23T16:28:00.000-07:00

The Hub comes up with a 'new' fitness obsession about twice yearly, once in the spring, and once in the fall - usually. He doesn't have much time to exercise during the week, and up until the past three years had just stuck to the weekend warrior role, but that changed - maybe four years ago? - around the time I conceived #3, and I remember MANY nauseated (me, not the walk) strolls with the Masses and the Hub. Then came the hiking craze; oh, yes, I've bjorned my way through many an adventure after #3 arrived. And now we've moved on to yet another new, and exciting phase!

Apparently, since I 'stay at home', I have oodles and oodles of time to work-out; and since #3 JUST started going to Montessori 3 days a week last week, I've had my fair share of walks with him, and yoga (which he does like), and TurboJam (again, popular also with the 7 and under crowd). I am also unbelievable skilled in using the elliptical trainer while he hangs from the handles or jumps off the cabinets - neither of which I approve of, all of which are apparently signaled in his little brain by the hum of the elliptical trainer! The Hub seems to be a bit jealous of my two hours a week with the Medieval Torture Specialist, but I can guarantee that'd change if he could feel what I feel right now (my legs are numb with pain, and I am afraid to sit on the potty for fear that I'll be here 'til the Masses and the Hub return from their outing).

So, it's biking and hiking. THe new phase, that is. So today I decided that I ought to try out his bike, as I haven't been on one since college, and that was a tandem bike race. Went pretty well. Before that, I power walked for 40 minutes - this is just walking really fast but trying not to look really dorky doing it (no excessive arm swinging, but some butt clenching - gotta do what ya gotta do). THen, we dressed the Masses, and the Hub took us for some "FAMILY FUN". We all know this is code for Family Pain and Suffering (FPS), and no one is spared, even poor #4 who is only 7 months old (and pulling up already - yes, we discussed how wrong that is... NO EARLY WALKING!!!!!!). Hub had ordered a book about Family Hikes, and READ IT (though I read the parenting books,... and just tell him what to do -HMMMM - he CAN read!!!), and picked out a place 10 minutes away to go 'hiking'.

We expected a little dirt path, park like setting, a stream, some ducks and other assorted wildlife,... and we were so wrong! We DID use sunscreen and bug spray (thanks, Andrea), but I have to confess I fear that there are some mutant bugs out there - read on to see why. SO, I strap #4 into the hip hammock for our .9 mile 'hike'. ONE AND A HALF HOT SWEATIN' KIDS GRIPIN' AND CRYIN' SEED TICK SWARMING HOUR LATER WE MADE IT BACK TO THE CAR... WITH EVERY STINKIN' SEED TICK ATTACHED!!!!!!!!!!!!

#3 had them literally SWARMING on his legs - too freaky!!!! - at one point, and .9 mile my hiney! We truly hiked through a FOREST - trail marked only by blue stripes painted on the trees!!! I think the book The Hub read was a little, um, MISLEADING????!!!!!

We returned to the car, wiped up the kids (#4 was PTL spared the tickfest), and proceed to drive home... when the tickies jumped from my jeans to my arms, face, and shirt! I started slappin, and swattin, and all the while tryin to maintain a smile so I don't look like the big whiner - they were crawling on the seat!!!!!! EEEWWWWW!!!!!!!!

FYI - bathing in medicated shampoo does a nice job of halting tickfest (we used Selsum Blue, which we had on hand for #4's persistent cradle cap ); this may only apply to seed ticks. Also, baby wipes will help get 'em off 'til you can get home and shampoo all your tick-y parts.

So, the Hub did admit that his idea was a big old bomb - old meaning of the word, here, and that I ought to have and use some veto power when he comes up with these fab ideas! Finally, after 12 years.... So, now I have to go take some Motrin and apply a little Caladryl,... gonna be a long phase - just a feeling!