The (After) Life of the Party

Happy Endings @ Missing the Ground

2011-08-31T15:55:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to give anyone out there still reading this blog a link express ride over to a place where I will be posting from now; Missing the Ground, sponsored by Travellinbaen. I plan on keeping The (After) Life of the Party up and going, but more so as a Mommy Blog than anything else. I do hope that you follow me over to the new place, as there is quite a few talented bloggers posting there and I know that there will be something for everyone.

Hope to see you all there!!

A Glimpse of Austin

2011-08-03T10:28:00.000-07:00

Today I got up early and tip toed around the house, mending ends and odds, adhering to my morning ritual. Austin and 2 of his cousins (Kaelina and Emily) are sleeping on the couch, I suspect they'll be there for a great deal of the morning as they had a late night. As I enter tags from last night, Austin rolls over and his blanket loses grip of him and shows his knees. Horribly filthy knees. I quickly recollect his day time activities from yesterday, a trip to the pond, work on the tree fort, helping his Papa with trailer work (in the dark) and I can't seem to help myself from smiling.

His face is reminiscent of his stage of infancy, a transformation that only happens during sleep. 12 years of becoming Austin, has made him incapable of hiding his emotions (that are nearing the oh so dreaded teens) during his awake hours, undeniably showing his age in progress. Feeling a bit lost in the state of pride, I glance once again to his knees. As they are, at this moment in time, my fixation. Not only are they dirty and grimy looking, but there is something else to them that holds my attention. They appear larger, almost as if they are too big for his body. Built to hold a man who isn't quite there.

The realization of it all is almost frightening. All too many are the times that I see glimpses of the man that Austin will become, his age being a clear indicator that time is running out. That soon the days/moments that are taken for granted will slip through my fingers and his childhood will have made it's course into our memories. It's that slight tilt of the head, that shows his future broad nose. Or that look of determination that ages his eyes, just a bit. The way he words his sentences that encourages those near to take him seriously and treat him as an equal. And those knees; those strong, worked knees that will carry him into his adult life. The ones reminding me now, that today is yet another day that nears us closer to his adulthood.

Mission Impossible

2011-07-08T18:25:00.000-07:00

Last night I infiltrated a Gummy bear camp. A lone, orange, Gummy bear went out to the woods to attend nature's call. On his way back, I attacked him and (somehow) crawled inside of his body.

I quickly found out that maneuvering the Gummy bear's body was quite the chore, perhaps they are stronger than I had initially thought they were.

When I finally made it back to the camp, the leader was furiously drawing wide circles in the dirt. Crossing out little boxes with hate filled grunts, cheers erupted delightfully and chubby Gummy bear arms pumped wildly in the air. Oh, my shoulders ached.

Orders seemed to be assigned, as someone handed me an over-sized bag and pointed wildly behind me. I grunted strong, feeling it to be the correct response and headed into the pointed direction. When I felt like nobody was looking, I bunny hopped. The big jelled wall that was in between my legs made for a horrible waddle and the bunny hop move felt easier to maneuver.

Not knowing exactly what my orders were, I started to gather firewood. It made sense at the time, as the woods were behind me. I walked around aimlessly, bordering the edges of the camp, trying to see what everyone else was doing. I'd gather a small load and dump it off and return back to gather more. My heart was pounding. I was exhausted. I was starting to forget why I even infiltrated this place to begin with. Was it a mission or just pure curiosity?

"No" I thought, "I must get firewood to prepare for the feast." Feeling determined I did that. As the night progressed and I neared filling the order of firewood required, I noticed my Gummy bear suit feeling tighter, easier to manage. I usually have a dull pain in my left shoulder blade, that sometimes acts up, funny it didn't appear to be there anymore. My necessity to bunny hop for quicker movement was no longer needed. I moved quite freely actually.

"Julius, we are ready to start the ceremony." I heard Hazel call. I grabbed my bag and headed back to camp, reclaiming my spot in the campfire circle.

Mother Bear Complex, It's Good Stuff.

2011-06-24T11:21:00.000-07:00

The other day while I was sweeping, preparing the floors for a wash, I noticed the cutest little black cricket work its way out from in-between two shoe filled baskets. My immediate thought was to help this little fellow out, scoop it up and return to the lawn and the land of riches. In fact I was on my way to do so, when a sudden panic hit me and my mind went to the darker corner of it’s hemisphere; where Hexxus hisses warnings of impending doom.

I couldn’t help but feel like I was being duped into some sort of weird “cute and cuddly” act that this cricket was convincingly portraying. Just why was it hanging out by the shoes, all alone and helpless? Why would it suddenly meander out into eyesight, or danger for that matter, at that moment in time? What if it wasn’t cute and cuddly at all? What if it wanted me to think that it was, but in fact it was really some sort of mutant cricket that spent it’s destitute life in search of delectable treasure and having not found said tasty treat in a hasty moment decided that human flesh had not been on the menu and therefore should be consumed in order to determine whether or not that it is the flesh of it’s liking. Ohhh Emmm Geee!! It became clear, that the cricket was hunting me down as its prey. WTF? How could my day get any worse, when I was already having to clean the house in sweat inducing heat, that I should now be hunted by a freaking mutant cricket?!

I stood there watching it with new and informed eyes, waiting for it to make its move. Panic washed over me, like lava scolding the earth; it left me bare, naked of any hope in getting myself out of this life or death situation. I stood there, statuesque; mid walk broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other. Only moving my eyes in hopes of finding a means of escape, while trying to determine if I could out run this death insect. “What is that, Momma? Is it a grasshopper? It’s funny.” Ryder said as he was pointing at the cricket. It had appeared that while I weighed out the different plans of escape in my own mind, Ryder had made his way down the hall, unnoticed, and in a direct line of attack with the deadly mutant cricket.

In a feigned act of great strength and total super hero antics I replied, “Oh it’s just a cricket sweetie.” As, I walked over on jelly legs I forced myself to bend down as my skinned crawled with the “ewws”. I quickly and with jerk(ish) reflexes swept it up in the dustpan, ran it out the kitchen door heaving the mutant cricket loaded dustpan into the front yard and promptly shut and locked the door. “No big deal,” I relay to him after my horrific display of cool, “it’s just a cricket”.

Proving, yet once again, that momma bear is a force to be reckoned with. There ain’t nothing and nobody that could put my babies in danger, no matter how mythical the creature may be or what delusional state I am currently in at the time…I’ve got their backs.

Three French Hens

2011-04-30T11:01:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago I took my very first (alone) trip to meet up with three other blogger(s). It was a big step in the right direction for many reasons; I journeyed out on my own for the first time, which was the scariest part of the whole scenario. I was able to interact with 3 people who have become a part of my daily environment on a more personal level. There always seems to be a underlying curiosity of whether the people we have grown to love through blogging truly are the way they appear (or present themselves to be) in their blogs. We seemed to have established an order of communication that would help us decipher who is who in this world of the could be. We had all journeyed past our blogs and sent emails to one another, including each other into a part of our lives that seemed to be deeper than the blog. Then, naturally, we all became friends on Facebook. Which inevitably led to our meeting up at Samsmama's house for a weekend get away.

The weekend was set to casual and luckily I had packed enough pajamas to get me through a week (what? I like to be comfortable). Smart planning had us all landing around the same time as one another and Samsmama made the loops in picking us up. Where we all took turns seeing one another for the first time, feeling wow'd and sharing hugs. Our conversations went from humble, to serious, to incredibly ridiculous and we all seemed to mesh well with one another. All of it the perfect formula to figuring out who we all really are.

Samsmama

My hostess with the mostess, this woman wouldn't let us do a thing (not to mention that we were not allowed in the kitchen). She opened her home to us and I truly felt at home there (that says a lot). I have often heard her describe herself as snarky. Which I am not sure is the case with her, only because I find snarkiness to be incredibly bitchy and I do not see her that way at all. She is, however, wonderfully witty and seriously fast with it. So stay on your toes, because she'll have you choking on your beverage before you know it. She is able to keep topics light with such wonderful comedic ease that you can't help but notice the ache in your cheeks from smiling all too much. She is also incredibly caring, giving and so heartwarming(ly) deep, that there are moments when I wish I could hug her more often. She and her husband have an amazing union. In fact, one night I heard her and her husband talk til 1 in the morning, I have never seen two people so interested in one another, a companionship that is one to envy. She has passion that supersedes her wittiness that makes her one of the strongest people I have ever met. I seriously love this girl.

Jessica O

My valley girl from Texas carries with her one of the most bombastic laughs that I have ever heard escape the mouth of a woman, it's a contagious riot waiting to happen. She's almost a demanding presence, in the sense that she is a bit competitive (and I only say that from a Scrabble point of view), and that she is ready to entertain the masses. Jessica O reminds me a bit of my sister Mel, that they are both anal with facts; which is a good trait to have and they also make great people to go to for information. She also reminds me a bit of myself, in the sense that she is tortured by the idea of picking everything apart and analyzing the shit out of it. But she is willing do to so unbiasedly and emphathetically, which results in a very accepting, gifted and beautiful person. She also has a wild side that screams to be let out to play and I can't wait to tap into it and get into some serious trouble with her.

Kate

Is the total package. Her timeless beauty, intelligence and sheer will power makes for an incredible human being. Add to that the bit of southern twang that wraps itself around her every word and she is the picture of elegance. Her soft gentle appearance almost undermines her drive for betterment, as she is a force to be reckoned with. She can be to the point, but also shares with it a comedic gracefulness that flows magically about the room. When I think of Kate, I think of sunshine; an everlasting light reaching out to touch others and I am glad to have been in her presence.

I'm proud to be able to call these women my friends and I hope they feel the same. And? I cannot wait until we all get together again..it's going to be legen...wait for it...

Come and listen to a story about a man named...

2011-04-25T16:29:00.000-07:00

Have you ever watched an episode of House (or any other show like it) and thought to yourself "WTF dude (person suffering from some sort of ailment), clearly something is wrong with you, call the doctor". But they don't and they wake up in the hospital dying and then you think to yourself "What were they thinking? I would never do something like that, when you feel like something is wrong you go with that gut instinct and take care of it. Likemotherfuckingduh!" I always get that feeling. Well, with a side of "maybe I just feel like that because I already know for a fact that something is wrong." I gotta admit that initial "that person has a huge chunk of re in their tards" wins outs and I'm left with that feeling of thinking they are the dumbest people alive.

In fact I say that with great ease, because I am one of the dumbest people alive. Almost five years ago, after giving birth to Ryder, I found myself in horrible pain and I did not mention it to anyone. After a couple of days, I phoned my doctor's office (he was on vacation) and spoke with an on call doctor. At this point I knew something was wrong and told her of my dilemma. She mentioned "You just had a baby, that's just how it is" (sparing me the "duh" but definitely implying it) and told me it would pass. A couple of days later, I called my sister (Jessica) and asked her to come over because I felt like I was going to pass out and I didn't want to end up passing out and have Ryder be all alone. She showed up and was immediately alarmed at my condition. I was then running a 106 degree fever and looking like death showed up at my door and rubbed shit all over me.

Long story short it took a couple of doctor visits, a lot of persistence and another random on call doctor to determine that (indeed) something was wrong with me. The 2nd on call doctor came back into the room and said "Harmony, I need you to go straight to the hospital and there you are meeting with the head of surgery. He is going to take excellent care of you." Two surgeries later, I was hooked up to a bottle of morphine, with a 15 minute booster button.

I woke up during the first surgery and that alarmed everyone. But I felt great, I wasn't in any pain and that was an absolute first for the previous week. "Hey how's it going?" I asked coolly. They were finishing up, so I promised to not move around and to tell them if I felt any pain. Before the 2nd surgery I had a new anesthesiologist and he told me to not worry that I wouldn't be waking up this time around. I was telling him that I didn't mind the first time, but I woke up in the recovery room shortly after I started to tell him that.

My family swarmed the hospital. Mainly, Jessica and Melody, stayed with me. Every night, one of them was there. But I only remember bits and pieces. I was high as a kite and as long as someone was pushing my booster every fifteen minutes I didn't have a worry (pain) in the world. I'm thinking the guy that came up with the code on Lost had at some point in his life the same sort of thing, because once my mom forgot to push my button and I remember waking in the most God awful pain I've ever felt and it was made known "push the button or it's all over".

My family suffered through this period of time in my life, while I felt nothing. Well, I felt calm. There was, in fact, one point during my stay there that I had thought to myself that if something did happen to me that it would be okay. I got to see and hold Ryder, Austin was such a good loving boy and Ant and I were in a really good place. I knew that he would keep me alive in their hearts and that made me feel at peace. In the outside world, my Mom was fucking losing it, my sister's were trying to do it all and my husband was working his ass off trying to bring money in (at my request, just in case the insurance didn't cover any of my stay), while juggling a 6 y/o and a newborn.

10 days later I was released. 10 days! Is that nuts or what? I went from near death (at one point I remember waking up and seeing the doctor praying over me) to a viable human being in 10 days. It seems so short, but it felt like an eternity. Due to my surgery, I had to maintain my catheter and have a urine collection bag (that I lovingly named Larry). What? It was all the rage back then, don't judge. My doctor's quick fix to this unsightly bag was a pillow case, tucked into the waist of my pants. Which didn't look odd at all. At home, Larry followed me everywhere I went and as time went on everyone referred to my little piss bag as Larry.

Aside from the pain that I felt or the emotional drama that swept over my family, there are times when I look back on this little episode of my life and I can't help but smile. My stay in the hospital has effected my life in many ways. But all in all, it does not effect my initial feelings while watching House "That I would never be like that person practically dying and not calling the doctor". Even if I had already been that person, my initial gut feeling is that they are too stupid for life. Thankfully, the powers that be do not take us out based on IQ..or else I wouldn't get to judge those poor dumb bastards on TV.

It Drives Me Crazy...

2011-04-21T09:18:00.000-07:00

Today I had to get gas. I cannot tell you how annoying it is to get gas in my vehicle and no, it has nothing to do with the price (although the cost can suck a bag of dicks!). Anyway, something is seriously wrong with my gas tank. Not the tank itself, but the spout in which one uses to insert the gas pump. The pump always clicks off within a couple cents of filling, it will never do a steady stream and I REALLY hate it. By the 10th time it clicks off, I find that I start bargaining with it "Come on, just do a steady stream. If you do, I'll always come back to this pump, #5 right? Always! Me and you BFF all the way." By the 873rd time it clicks off, I am so over it that I am making threats "So help me the next time you click off, I'm done. I'm going to leave and you only worked $8.00 out of me. Is that what you want, to be the pump that would only put $8 into an Expedition? Is it?!" Which always leaves me with this thought: "FUCK!!!" It takes far too long to actually fill my tank and I only have the patience to get half a tank at a time, I seriously need to relax. Or have a chill pill prescribed to me for the act of filling my gas tank up.

Dr. Meds: I see here on your chart, Harmony, that you are experiencing some anxiety while at the gas pump. Given the current state of our economy, I can definitely understand your reaction. Why, you wouldn't believe the influx of patients I have due to gas prices alone.

Me: Yeah, yeah..the prices suck. But I'm more concerned with the fact that either my car does not like being filled up or that every gas pump in Northern California fucking hates me.

Dr. Meds: I'm feeling that you might be suffering from low self esteem, surely you do not actually believe that inanimate objects have a strong dislike for you.

Me: Wouldn't you feel a little low about yourself if your vehicle and/or gas pumps wouldn't cooperate with you? In reality, I'm feeding one so that it will have a long lasting life, without me it would be a hunk of metal sitting in the driveway never seeing the world around it. And the other one I am paying for it's existence. Without our involvement it would cease to exist, it would literally not be needed anymore. And neither one gives a shit! I'm practically a source of their livelihood and they are choosing to ignore my presence in their lives and not only that, they are fucking with me on a weekly basis! And you don't think that deserves a little more attention from you, that you can so easily dismiss such an evil act of co conspirators to blame me and some low self esteem issues..really?!?!

Dr. Meds: I see. *presses intercom button* Nurse clear my schedule for the day.

The Grass is Always Greener?

2011-02-17T09:04:00.000-08:00

As a kid I used to gaze up at the clouds and wonder what life would be like on the other side (of them). Fancily, I daydreamed of lying atop them, cuddled up in their airy embrace. Above the clouds, I believed, the sun was always shining, the sky truer of a blue and sweet melodic angel whispers where abound. On top of the clouds, life was free. On top of the clouds, there were no worries. On top of the clouds, my thoughts were meant to roam.

I don’t travel much; in fact I’ve traveled all of 3 times in my adult life. Recently, during a return flight home, I found myself above the clouds. I smiled dreamily at them, remembering my craving for such an occasion as a child. Quickly I envisioned myself plopped upon one. Just as instantly as I found myself on top of the cloud, I felt myself burn through it. Misted haze screamed past my body as I quickly plummeted to the earth below.

Hating that image, I immediately turned my sights to the role in life I was currently playing a part in (above the clouds). I had been sitting next to a woman, of whom I learned not her name, but that she was the mother of a daughter attending the University of Oregon. She was also, a very proud owner of an Apple iPad. She went about her apps showing me all of the delightful things that it was capable of doing. Disinterested as I was, I feigned enthusiasm, joyously announcing “Oh my, would you look at that.”

On the other side of her, was a businessman. I eagerly, reached out to him and dragged him into our conversation. He, as it turns out, is accustomed to flying. In fact, that very week he had to travel to 5 different cities. “You know, it was my goal to travel less this year,” he tells me. “Well, you clearly suck at that” I respond. Instantly regretting having said the word “suck” to a total stranger. I hurriedly followed up with “You can go ahead and save that for your next NYR” in hopes of making the imagery more wholesome and to the point. We both laughed, mine (perhaps) a little more nervous than his. The lady between us went to reading on her iPad. Feeling it would be rude to try and carry on a conversation with the fun one, I gave in and picked up my book as well.

Glancing out the window, I found myself looking through the clouds. Envisioning the faces of my family, their warm embraces and sloppy kisses. How we would cuddle beneath a blanket of stars and dream openly on the trampoline. I chuckled at the thought of “the sky is always bluer on the other side.” Intriguing the woman next to me, “Is that a good book?” She asked. Smiling, I handed it to her, “it’s fantastic!” Suddenly aware that my life above the clouds, for that night at least, was meant to be spent in vague reality; up here, with my co-passengers, I only partially exist.

So Yesterday...

2010-11-09T06:00:00.000-08:00

I stared into the sky; clean, crisp, clear. Not a cloud in sight. A rather beautiful day, simplistically so. The grass blazed green, renewed from recent rain. Birds chirped delightfully, echoing timelessly across the property, rejoicing in the warmth of the sun. The boys giggled and called out to one another, hazy unformed words, as they ran about and played. The presence of the day stretched beyond me, keeping me grounded. Holding on ever so lightly to my consciousness, as I gazed above.

Feeling lazy, I wished for a cloud to morph to my fancy. Cloudless, empty, blue. A canvas awaiting a limitless dream. The expanse of it all was overwhelming. Not feeling the dreamer type. I gave shape to creation on another level. Having formed my mud people, I left them gazing at the sky to dream the dreams I long gave up on. I shall harvest them for dessert and rejoice in their reminiscent glory another day.

I don't know why I think of this crap

2010-06-14T10:16:00.000-07:00

A while ago a friend said that she and her husband had both left status updates (on facebook) that they would be away from the house at the same time...for some reason I thought of that this morning (while doing dishes) and then the following is what came to mind next. Not sure what it all means, but I'm guessing that my inner being is a dumb redneck.

They both left messages that they would be away from the house, as status updates, for their facebook profiles. It’s situations like this that really gets that itch flamed up. Even an amateur would take a look into this, how could I look away? The plan was simple, meet with acquaintance A and formulate a plan. It’s like eating cheesecake at the cheesecake factory, deliciousness comes with a cost and I never forget that.

Acquaintance A, my go to guy for such occurrences, is a crude looking fella. Shaves close enough to the skin to make it look like he hadn’t shaved at all, but is also not going for the Merlin look. His hair, greasy, is pulled back tight into a low ponytail, gathered at the nape of his neck. I hate that fucking thing, if I didn’t think he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment at gouging a knife through my eye, I’d cut that shit off. His left eye wanders a bit to the left, curiously looking for what is to come. If there was anything that I have learned with acquaintance A is to never call him Lefty and don’t stare at his left eye. I’m not sure how he can tell, but the fucker pistol-whipped me once because of it. Put a goddamn eye patch on that shit if you don’t what people looking at it, is all I can say.

I’m not even sure how acquaintance A and I got to doing this sort of thing together. We hit the same house one night, unbeknown to either of us, until both guns were drawn and pointing at figures our eyes have never been laid upon before. A nasty fight ensued thereafter. I fucking hate getting stitches, is all I can say about that. With every blow we gave one another, we must have also realized some sort of redeeming quality the other one had, because afterward we shared a beer and decided to split the rewards equally. And like that, an acquaintance was made.

It’s a long drive to acquaintance A’s house, gives ya plenty to think about. I’m not sure where my mind went on the drive though. One minute I’m heading out to get him and the next I’m sitting in the car, parked in front of his house, watching him slide out the door, in order to not wake the missus. If you think acquaintance A was nasty, you didn’t want to meet the woman he calls his ball and chain. He slid down into the car and we headed out. “What’s the plan?” I ask him. “What?!” he said, “I thought you had the plan?” Looks like our plan hightailed it outta here, too anxious to wait for us.

If there’s anything more that I hate about doing a hit without a plan, it’s finding that we never had a plan to begin with. We had a drive ahead of us, plenty of time to figure out what we were going to do. Acquaintance A and I had only done our planning together once before, he found it degrading and unnatural. But I’ve always found the Blue’s Clue method into tracking down a good plan both rewarding and uplifting.

Sh!t happens and there is nothing we can F@cking do about it.

2010-05-26T07:12:00.000-07:00

As it turns out, if I am not able to go into complete Tourrette's mode (when I am mad) I sound like a complete idiot. Phrases like "shhhoty nerd loser face wide turner" happen and it hits my ego like a car crashing into the wall, my whole body goes into shock. Cussing has become such a beautiful way of exposing my feelings, every word delicately assigned to an emotion begging for release. An array of orchestrated notes strung together passionately. Taking flight from a tongue that was once eager to experiment the rolling sound of each word, but now uses them with such expertise that there are moments when it sounds like singing.

I have recently declared to myself that I will hinder the use of these words and search out new ways of interpreting my feelings to the masses. This act of betterment has been nothing but a pain in my rear. As I have found it unbelievably hard to express the extreme emotions (good or bad) that is so easily contained in the single word that is "fuck" or any of it's other variations. It's that one universal word that, without a thought, attaches itself to any emotion. Giving the receiver of the word, a very clear understanding of what it is you are trying to tell them. It's to the point, directional and a never ending supplier of laughter. It's verbal deliciousness. Floating in a glowing ball of awesome. Wrapped up in velvety whispers and held together by a detonating bow. So exquisite, I can't help but be drawn in and give it a tug.

Dear Fuck, I wish I knew how to quit you.

Cause and Effect?

2010-05-03T13:59:00.000-07:00

“Are you okay?” I heard him call from the side of the car. I peered around from the back end of the vehicle cautiously. The first thing I noticed was his hand gripping the door handle, my eyes followed up his straining arm to find his body halfway leaning out of the car. A hyena’s howl cracked through the air behind me, insistently drawing unwanted attention towards my direction. I could feel my face contorting to my “are you kidding me” look, while my brain urgently flipped through its dictionary trying to find the perfect wording to go with my exasperated expression.

My face reddened as the silence between us grew. The murmur of the locals gathering, the hyena, my sister laughing uncontrollably on the other end of my phone, all of it; weighed heavily on my ego. I finally managed an “I’m okay” and walked away. Once safely in my car, I broke through Melody’s hysterical laughter by telling her “I was just hit by a car” there was a brief silence, which easily gave way to an explosion of laughter. I have never in my life felt more like my mother, who was once hit by a car, dragged, unknowingly underneath it 10ft (because the driver was intoxicated) and ticketed for riding her bike on the wrong side of the road.

To be honest, I should have seen it coming. The man was obviously in a desperate hurry to escape the woman that was begging to have her every word devoured by anyone looking in her direction. You’ve seen this type of person, of that I’m sure, the type that can’t take one moment of silence without breaking into it and making it his/her own personal time to tell (anyone) of their woes and sorrow. General areas in which this behavior is most common would be any area that requires a line; a long, slow one at that.

It was precisely that type of situation that caused this woman to speak un-apologetically about her horrid day at her horrid new job. The man standing directly in front of me acted as a buffer for her searching eyes. As we all know, anyone who directly looks at her would instantaneously become her prey. She incessantly told him of her woes as he stupidly tried to appear vaguely interested in her predicament that is life. I don’t generally mind when people feel like this type of thing needs to happen while waiting in line. But she clearly broke protocol, when she turned her attention to the store clerk and started her rant over. Allowing herself to, yet again, get wrapped up in her own misery. So much so, that she delayed paying her bill in a timely manner. “How much do I owe you for the therapy session?” She jokingly asked as she finally decided to dig out her ATM card to make a payment. My brain felt like it would explode, when she started to openly debate with herself if she would use the ATM or credit option.

Silence was once again ours as she went to the end of the belt to bag her items. I relished in its sweet glory. He ended up joining her at the bagging station, to bag his own groceries, when he foolishly told her “I hope your day is better tomorrow.” This of course caused an explosion of words to jump out of her mouth; he seemed shocked by her reaction at his attempt of kindness. Silly man, you never re-engage with a woman in complaint mode. By the looks of him, I could tell that he had a habit of opening a can of worms on a daily basis and being surprised by it’s contents. They headed towards the door and I knew his misery would soon be over. As it is protocol to end all discussions (with a stranger) at the door. It is the ultimate fail-safe for such a predicament.

They reached the door and he gave her a knowing nod that they were done and that he was ready to go his own way. We all should have known better. I mean her complete disregard with paying in a timely manner was a sure sign that she didn’t stick to a beaten path. She responded with more dread, more misery and more detail. He looked up into the sky with a “why me?” type of desperation covering his face, as she followed him all the way out to his car, where she was (coincidentally) parked right in front of him. I was walking out of the store when I spotted them, I had to chuckle, he was too stupid for his own good. What I didn’t see was his rush to get in his vehicle. What he didn’t see was that I was walking directly behind his vehicle to get to mine, which (coincidentally) was parked on the other side of his.

He jolted back, hitting me, almost knocking me over. “What the hell?” I shouted as I looked indignantly at the intrusive back end of his vehicle. As if my stare of all things evil would intimidate it enough to stall. It responded with another shove and relentless movement. “Holy shit!” I muttered as I started doing some sort of a high side step ninja maneuver. My phone pressed to my ear as my sister started howling, unaware of what was going on, causing me to laugh. A lady behind me started screaming, “I see that happening!” I, finally, was able to smack the car window to get his attention, causing him to immediately stop. The talker, the lady with the worst day ever, just stood there with her mouth agape. Jaw dropped and wordless. Utter shock has that effect on people.

As I drove home, I wondered how she would re-tell this story, if it partnered well with her worst day ever rant. Or if I became an object of comparison, “I had the worst day ever, but at least I wasn’t hit by a car today.”

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

2010-01-11T09:36:00.000-08:00

In a spectrum ranging from complete falsehood to utter truth, I have experienced both ends (and yes... a little bit of the gray area in-between) in regards to the above statement. However, this morning sitting on the front porch, coffee in hand, I watched the morning fog roll in over the pasture. Dutifully, bringing to life the colors that, throughout the day, seem to turn bland and indistinct. All of it almost entirely hidden, by the afternoon, from the unsuspecting eye. A squint of the eyes and a proper tilt of the head will allot, those of the conscious nature, a view into a world of hidden beauty.

And so the fog rolled in, clinging to the earth, working it's magic. Evoking colors, from new grass patches that, up until this point, seemed to go unnoticed. Diligently enhancing until satisfied. And as suddenly as the fog crept in, it began to rise, letting go of the earth it so ravishingly cherished to hover above and take in it's masterpiece. Birds chirped ceremoniously, talking among themselves, fluffing their feathers in the process. Regaling sorrow, or songs of love, perhaps they were speaking in tongue for a time of worship, I don't know. But they spoke and I listened, utterly lost in a beautiful and transfixing language. I quickly decide to not worry about deciphering the code of bird chat, and let it play it's melody in the background of awe.

In the meantime condensation had formed on the tree branches, allowing them to openly weep, softly drumming the ground below. When I close my eyes, I see child like, ballerinas dancing about on the tips of their toes. I inhale the moisture filled air and return to it the "ha" from my lungs, watching it float up to the fog of it's likeness, desiring to join in on the creation of magic. The sky is blanketed with various tones of gray, almost hinting that there was never a shade of blue in it's hue. Simply allowing the ground below, to bask in it's own beautiful glory.

As the morning unfolds before me, I began to realize how much I have missed this place. It was in that moment, that the above claimed, could not have been more accurate.

Solitude; Be still, my beating heart

2009-11-16T10:23:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Ant had plans to go to a gun show in Reno with his friends. Imagine my surprise when he decided to take not one but both of the boys with him. Insert squeal of unbelievable joy here. When he first mentioned it I said “no”. What? It’s like my wifely duty to try and let him have his time of leisure. Besides my mouth said “no” BUT my brain said, “OMG YES! YES! YES!” and maybe there was a little hint of “PLEASE!!!” going on, but I’m not one to beg (well not all of the time). We went back in forth a little over all the reasons why I thought the kids should stay home and why he thought he should be able to take them. I admit, that my end of the debate was done with lousy tactics. The fact that I smiled (hugely) every time he mentioned taking them probably didn’t help cement my willingness to keep them either. *shrugs* What can you do? *grins*

I stayed strong in knowing that at any second, Ant could come to his senses and decide that taking the boys would be much more of a struggle than fun. I also helped (ever so diligently) in getting them ready and out the door in a hurry. Ant likes things done this way. Usually it’s annoying, but yesterday it seemed imperative. I knew I was in the clear when Ant and the boys drove off, leaving me behind.

Pouring a second cup of coffee and folding myself into the couch was my first order of business. I had much to do that day, but taking in the serenity of an empty house was very crucial. My coffee seemed warmer, richer, and sweeter. It burst into song as I sipped from my mug and it held me warmly as I cradled it in my palms. Such an intimate moment that almost had me whispering, “I love you” into the wide mouth of my mug, instead I grinned and inhaled the uninterrupted aroma of a perfect mornings coffee.

Soon after I gleefully set forth to do my chores, it’s amazing what you can get done when you’re not being interrupted every 10 minutes. When no one is crying that they’re hungry, or that their brother won’t share and when your not walking in on your youngest pissing in a cup left within his reach (getting it everywhere). And can I just say that there is no amount of questioning that will ever fulfill your desire to know what would lead a child to want to pee in a cup when there is a toilet not 10 ft away, especially when the best they can come up with is “I did! I did! I pee in the cup Momma.” So, gleefully and chores? Yes, definitely yes. Before I knew it I was done and ready to do some light food shopping for the guest that were coming by to watch the Patriots and Colts game with us that night.

While out and in town, I found myself humming delightfully in and out of store. Ironically enough, my good spirits went hand in hand with the surprisingly warm weather we were having. In front of one store, I watched an elderly women struggle with retrieving a cart, so I stopped and helped. It’s not completely uncommon for me to help people; I do try to keep my good Karma high in reserve (Lord knows I need it). But I tend to be a little cranky when in town with the kids, as they tend to be relentless with their nagging.

Lately, Wal-Mart has been checking receipts at the door to ensure that no one is getting away with any “freebies”. Sometimes they check you and sometimes they don’t. It’s been a constant that during the times they check me, one of the kids are losing their shit about one thing or another, and so I am not the most pleasant person they have ever encountered. One kid free day, the woman standing at the exit asked to view my receipt. I happily obliged as I found it and handed it over. She went on, relentlessly apologizing, until I had assured her that all is well and that I didn’t mind. She said, “Some people can be very bitter and rude when asked”.

Instantly, I flashed back to some weeks before, when she in fact stopped me while Ryder was crying about a toy, I wanted more than anything to get to the car and be on my merry way. But NO, I had to stop and wait for her to verify my receipt, devil woman prolonging my nightmare. Hate filled my eyes, if looks could kill, she would have dropped right to the floor, without a doubt. I sheepishly, let out a “sorry about that” giggle and left without ever looking back. Surely, she was clearly picturing me from the weeks before when telling me of the awful ways people treat her. I felt ashamed, but I also had to laugh, because I can be one nasty bitch when the kids are acting crazy. Poor lady.

Walking through that last market yesterday, I sung openly of my great day and smiled without reserve. The world was my oyster and I intended on flourishing in it. At the checkout, my glowing disposition caught the eye of the register lady. “Well, how is your day?” she asked suspiciously. “Perfect!” I responded without a thought. “I see that” she said. Followed by “How does one go about having such a perfect day?” “My husband took the kids on a road trip with him, allowing me to clean the house in solitude” I confide in her. “Oh, I LOVE when that happens. Don’t you just LOVE those moments?” She dreams aloud.

*sigh* Yes, yes I do.

*I plan to write more about the game and all that transpired. Stay tuned for that fun!

Pigs, They Just Can't Be Trusted.

2009-11-13T10:22:00.000-08:00

A month or so ago we bought a pig, for the sole reason of fattening it up and slaughtering it to our liking. Oh the vibrant dream bubble that arose above Ant’s head. Bacon, sausage, pork loin and ham swirled gloriously about as he Bubba Gump’d all the possibilities that came with our livestock. In theory, this seemed like a good idea, the boys would learn a great deal from the experience. However, Ant had already decided that this was happening so it didn’t quite matter what theory suggested. Theory, it seemed, only acted as a safe haven for my guilty conscience.

I worried a great deal, while awaiting the arrival of our soon to be feast, that I would fall in love with our pig and wish for it to be a pet rather than food. The day that our soon to be dinner showed up, I learned that it was a female. Our pig was a she and as of that moment exactly, no longer an it. I vowed never to look upon her, as surely I would want to cuddle and love her forever more. A couple of days had past before I was heckled into to viewing The Pig, as she was so recklessly called.

The sweetest little baby pig, black in color with a thick white stripe that spiraled over her back, splaying out across her belly. My girlfriend exclaimed, “She looks like an Oreo cookie!” “Oreo” that settled it within my heart quickly and thus confirmed that I loved our new farm pet. My eyes grew wide and round as my mouth baffled out “oh I love her”. She seemed to oink with delight at such a notion, setting Ryder off into a fit of giggles. A dream of haze arose as I pictured our little Oreo walking the pasture with us while playing tag with our dogs.

I heaved in a deep breath, to let out a delighted sigh when Austin burst into a fit full of excitement, “Who gets to kill it? Does the butcher? Can we watch?” “Oh bother” the Charlie Brown in me exhaled. There would be no tag with the dogs that was for sure. I went against naming her Oreo, as I knew I would never cook up our pet named Oreo for the family and went with something more fitting, such as “Double Stuffed”. I watched her for a bit, trying to find a reason to dislike her. She stood there, straightening out her tail to whack flies that seemed to like landing on her rear. When suddenly she turned and looked right at me, with those horrid evil looking eyes. That was good enough for me, as I decided the portal to hell was within those eyes. Possibly a reach, but a reach in the right direction, after all what is to be will be.

I tried keeping my distance, but much like everything else we have, she became my responsibility. Suddenly I found myself feeding and watering her and on hot days cooling her off with a good spray down from the hose. I learned that her most favorite thing to eat is tomatoes and while eating them her mouth makes the cutest little squeak noise. But I stood firm in knowing that she was to be slaughtered and did my very best to not talk at her in hopes of not forming an inadvertent bond to her. I even started to refer to her as The Pig. Although, that might have much to do with nobody knowing who the hell Double Stuffed was..assholes!

One afternoon, I headed out with a bag full of zucchini, salad mix and old bread; she was in for quite the treat. Ryder had accompanied me out to her pen, he hadn’t seen her in some time and she had more than doubled in size. While in the pen, she greedily sniffed at the bag; practically biting through it before I could empty it’s contents into her feeding dish. She became busy with stuffing herself as I worked on cleaning out her water container and Ryder watched in amazement. She finished up rather quickly and went to sniffing about looking for more treats. I took this as our cue to leave, and opened up the gate to let Ryder out, that’s when she opened her mouth as wide as I have ever seen it get and went to take a nibble out of Ryder’s elbow. Scared the shit out of me! Before Ryder knew it I was shoving him out of the pen and the pig was in hearty pursuit after him. I slammed the door shut landing it hard on her head. “Oops sorry” I found myself blurting out to the now vicious beast. She jumped back in shock. Her hesitance gave way for my exit and I slid through the gate door. Only to have her make a run for it again, and again the door came to a crashing stop on her head.

Holy shit! The pig is on to us and she is ready to make a meal out of us long before we can get one out of her. I’m not going to lie I was scared. Suddenly, when on my trips to feeding her, my calves began to ache. I could literally feel my flesh being ripped away from bone as I envisioned her attack strategies. Much like, the way my ankles begin to burn every time I spot a Chihuahua. As of yet she had not tried attacking again. But one must admit, it takes time and strategy to come up with the perfect plan of attack. But I’m no fool, I act on suspicion and I look for suspicious acts. She will not get one over on me again.

In chatting with Samsmama about this new surprising side to our pig Double Stuffed, she mentioned a name change is in order and offered up Breakfast as a healthy replacement for Double Stuffed. I couldn’t agree more, Breakfast certainly keeps things in perspective.

On a side note I would like to draw your attention to a specific post on Mala’s blog (Mixed Nuts). She is currently working on raising money to help give the orphans in Kyrgyzstan a Christmas that they will never forget. A simple $5.00 donation is being asked of us, to give a child with nothing something to look forward to. While 5 dollars can get you one of the best sandwiches, assembled on a homemade twist roll with the right amount of crisp on the bottom to make your heart grow one size bigger, that so happens to be conveniently located in a iffy looking EZ-Mart with a corner of the store dedicated to the sleaziest pr0n you ever thought imaginable, that will only last you one puny, yet delectable, moment. Plus, the donation process is easy peasy. So please go check it out.

Don't Fear the Reaper?

2009-11-05T09:02:00.000-08:00

It was a clear blue and slightly warm autumn day. It was stunningly normal. Routine, taking hold of what is and pushing it along like any other day. In the event of having to get gas, we would take the back way home. That day, ten years ago, we did just that.

I remember just once taking in, the crisp clarity of the sky. I was busy; I’m always busy. My mind was racing, trying to organize my day’s work so that I could file it away. I mustn’t forget to call on that invoice in the morning, I tried pressing into my memory. Quickly replaced with, what should I make for dinner?

There I was stranded in my own world, my own time, inwardly discussing my day and trying to foresee what was to come. When I took our usual right onto Colusa Frontage Road. There’s something about turning that can cause one to lose train of thought. Straight, direct, narrow paths that easily slide by and fade into the background keep you motivated. It keeps the goal, whatever it may be, in sight. Suddenly in the middle of the turn, I snapped out of my pondering and took a quick glance in the rear view mirror.

There he was, waiting, looking directly at me with a smiled stretched across his baby face. A seemingly beautiful moment, interrupted by the greatest fear I had never before felt, until that moment. Looking back at me, behind those smiling eyes, was the vast realization that I was going to die. That one-day death would have me and I never really knew what that meant.

Sickness consumed me whenever my mind wandered to the inevitable. I grasped at time and tried pulling it to a stop. Time is suddenly not time, it flies and it’s rare. It sings a song of lost at the end of the day and wakes you up hopeful at the beginning, and so time stops for no one. I found myself up in the middle of the night, crying and begging god to not take me. All the while confused, death had never stricken me in such a way before. I tried convincing myself that my time may come many years down the road, yet it didn’t matter. I was, for the most part, inconsolable. Continually fearing the unknown, while trying to save the day, the moment, the hour, the minute…but why?

“Because you never had anything to live for before” my coworker told me as I was recounting my struggles with death with him during our lunch break. Prior to this new knowledge, I had spent a majority of my time feeling proud. Caught up in the mystic powers of having created, the “he is mine, I made that” mode. Awestruck, I realized that understanding my fears was only the half of it, not letting them take control of me was now the battle I had to face.

Having kids is like putting one foot into the grave. A vision so narrow and to the point, that those turns in the road become allies, a perfect reminder of the life worth living now.

As it turns out, searching for turns in the road while driving with two screaming kids in the backseat doesn’t necessarily have the same effect. Ah well… Here’s to life’s little surprises anyhow and to the memory of good times. Cheers!

Death by Chicken? Ummm...No Thanks.

2009-10-06T10:13:00.000-07:00

Some country animals are crazy, while the others just wait to die. Or maybe the others are the crazy one, idk. Whatever the case may be, this morning on the way to drop Austin off at school, I spotted 3 chickens on the side of the road. Chatting it up like a pack of housewives gathered in the morning light just after seeing their child off to school, eager to fit in the morning’s gossip before heading off to do their daily chores. When suddenly one them realized that they left the stovetop on and went running across the street to maintain a (what could be) deadly fire. Yes whatever the urgency was, it was done with quite the reckless abandon, as the chicken ran right in front of me. My cat like reflexes slowed to a blur, as I started to release the lead from my foot on the gas pedal.

“Oh right, your gonna lock ‘em up for a stupid animal and risk killing us all. Nice, real, nice,” Ant said that day that I came to a near stop when a cat ran out in front of me. To my defense we were alone on the road that night, but ever since then I can hear him (every single time a like situation happens) getting at me for not first taking into account our family and the consequences of my actions.

Ant’s words echoed through me as I did a quick surveillance in the rear view mirror. Finding a pickup tailing pretty close behind me. Stopping for this chicken crossing the road would end in certain doom for me and mine. I resumed my speed and screamed as I flew past the chicken. In my ruffled feather state, I caught a vision of the chicken (from my driver side mirror) scurrying into its yard of destination. With a hop from the end of the pavement she disappeared into the bushes, where I no doubt believe she fainted.

As it turns out my screaming in the car, out of sheer panic, has no affect whatsoever on the children. As they have become accustomed to that sort of thing, especially since moving here. I cannot even begin to want to tell you about the mass bunny suicide that took place this spring. One minute you notice a cute little bunny, nibbling on grass on the side of the road, their eyes round and young. You can’t help but call out to the children saying, “look at that cute little bunny.” The next their eyes squint to a narrow glare and they drop their innocence like a lead ball and in a instant they dive in front of your vehicle, as if in a last ditched effort to tell you where you can stick your effing “cute bunny.” Once my screaming subsided, my 9 y/o floors me with an exuberated “AWESOME!”

And there it is, some animals are just crazy. They’re out there living life on the edge, taking extreme to the next level. Laughing in the face of danger and risking it at all odds, even death. While others just wait for death, serenely so, making the best of their situation. Watching the earth move on day in and day out. Sometimes (very rarely) I can be a crazy animal, feeling fueled by beating out death one more time. Other times, I wait, holding out my arm eagerly. Trying to keep death at bay, wishing to have the ability to cherish as long as possible. Either way, I would never run out in front of a vehicle. Stupid animals!

Shadows at Dinner Time

2009-10-02T10:57:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, and by sometimes I mean more often than not, we have a late dinner. I am only partially ashamed of this. Growing up we ate dinner every night at 5:00 on the dot and when 5:00 rolls by here, I can faintly hear my mom hissing “5:00 is dinner time.” I understand that a consistent routine is best for the children, however I know that having dinner with their dad means so much to them. Considering he is never home at the same time every night, we tend to have an erratic dinner schedule. To further justify my badmomness, I have to say that the kids seem to eat better when we eat as a family. I don’t know why, they just do.

The other night we sat down for dinner just before 7:00. At this time of day the sun is in direct alignment with our atrium style window above the sink. The sun’s rays pour into the room, searing throughout it, as if in search of a shadow hiding. It’s positively blinding. The kids sat at the side of the table that had their backs facing the intrusive rays, leaving me with the hot seat. Ant is dead tired and dinner rolls along quietly, until Ryder shoves a potato off of his plate.

It rolls away from the plate without any commotion, coming to a stop within Ryder’s reach. He glances at it, decides it’s not terribly interesting and carries on with his chicken. A couple of minutes later he said, “hey where did my tato go?” “Oh there you are,” he said to his potato upon finding its location. “I put you in my mouth” he relays to the potatoes its certain doom. Reaching for the potato, he suddenly stopped.

“What the?” Ryder says. I glance over and he is slowly lowering and raising his hand down and away from the potato. “Ryder just found his shadow,” I tell Ant, who then responds with a huge grin and watching eyes. “Hey this is my hand” Ryder announces, as he watches his darkened twin image reach for his potato with precise timing of his own hand. “This is my hand,” he says while do spirit fingers. Austin points out the shadow from the rest of his body on the wall behind me. Ryder exploded into laughter. “Hey that’s me,” he cried as if seeing his shadow for the first time made him real.

We watched him glow in amazement at his own shadow for the remainder of dinner. His shadow brought such radiant joy to him, that we too couldn’t help but bask in the glow of his finding. It’s amazing the things that can make us feel special…how ordinary they can be, yet how unique they really are.

Now that he has his shadow, I see shadow tag in the future. For those of you who are not in the know, shadow tag is awesome!

The Junk Drawer; What's New Pussy Cat?

2009-09-10T08:11:00.000-07:00

Time has a way of evading me. Mixing in harmoniously with events people and emotions, but not binding them neatly and stacking them in order. Looking back and sorting through memories is more like digging through a box. Like that drawer in the kitchen that has somehow accumulated junk throughout your span of being, that is somehow too important to not get rid of.

My perception of time leaves me feeling like I am walking through the black pitch of night; unaware of where I am and where my feet could possibly take me. I use words like “just the other day” that could mean many things: last week, last month, last year, or just the other day. Sometimes I feel like its greed that is causing me to not have a line to hang these memories on. That I’m selfishly grasping at all that there is to have, carelessly tossing aside the significance behind dates. Bundling up memories like an old load of laundry, carry them about like a vagrant with nothing to lose.

With that said, I put much effort into recalling my age at the time of the cat incident. I am certain that we were living in North Dakota. However, two of my younger sisters (Jessica and Savannah) were born there. So I could have been anywhere between the ages of 2 and 5. Considering that I remember much of that incident on my own, vividly, I would say I was closer to the latter.

There is not a lot that I remember about North Dakota itself. It was cold. Jessica had a way of following me around when I didn’t want her to. Of course, I didn’t know then that I would become such great friends with my sisters, that we would always be there for each other. But that’s another story. I remember I had a friend named Bridget that once took me to her gymnastic class as her guest for the day. I searched through my memory for glimpses of the arrivals of Jessica and Savannah…nothing. Sad to say, I must have been too caught up in myself to store away such treasures as those.

And I remember the cat, Israel. I of course do not remember much of what the cat was like or the color of her eyes. A part of me suggests that she was a gray cat. But I suppose none of that is relevant anyway. As one day I woke from my afternoon nap to find myself covered in blood and goo. My hair matted to my head and sticking to the sides of my face. I remember before I even allowed myself to give it a single thought, I was screaming. As most kid’s do. I remember the look of on my Mom’s face as she entered the room. She at first was concerned and then suddenly aware and knowing.

Sometimes I wonder if this was the “birds and the bees” talk my Mom recalls having with me. Except I don’t remember much of actual “the birds and the bees” talk happening. After reassuring me that I was not harmed physically, I was told that our cat had her babies on my head during my nap. Before any sort of puzzlement could take place over such an occurrence, I was immediately told that I was “special”. Exact wording would be “Don’t you see how special you are that she chose you?” “That’s a big deal sweetie.” My five y/o self ate that up.

Somehow, for the greater part of my childhood, those words stuck to me like glue. I had bought it; I had for the most part drank deeply from the proverbial Kool Aid. And knew in my heart of hearts that I was destined for greatness.

I distinctly recall the sound of a record screeching to a halt, when I realized just how fucked up that shit is. To this day if anyone was to ask my Mom about that day (as I recently have) she will declare my being the chosen one and just how special that is.

Paint Your Appliance Pink Sweeps

2009-09-09T09:08:00.000-07:00

This morning I received an email from a woman named Jane Moore who works for PartSelect.com (an online appliance parts retailer). It appears that they are having a sweepstakes (the above titled) in order to help raise awareness AND $10,000.00 for Breast Cancer Research. Since I own a pair of girls myself, and because I happen to think breast are kind of sort of all the way awesome, I'm thinking yeah I'll post about this on my blog.

From what I've read entering the sweepstakes is easy peasy:

1. Paint a pink bow on a appliance

2. Take a picture of it

3. Email them the picture

For every "valid" picture they receive they will donate $25.00 to the Breast Cancer Research Fund (up to $10,000.00). One lucky person will win an awesome Prize Package (it's pink..but what can you do?).

Okay people we need 400 pictures stat. Entries are accepted until midnight on September 30, 2009. If you choose to participate, and I hope you do, please be sure to share your picture with the rest of us.

Here are some entries that I liked and nabbed from their website:

So cute..so pretty in pink.

To me this picture is made of WIN. I find it to be absolutely awesome!

Click here for more information and details!!!

It's all in the Emphasis..

2009-09-08T07:45:00.000-07:00

The other day as I was catching up on all things billing related, Ryder decided to start body slamming me. He is tired, not tired enough that a little cuddle would send him to a land beyond. Just enough tired to piss him off and will him into a battle of fits. This can go one of two ways he can kick, wiggle, lash out and scream OR someone can play with him until he simply wears out. Being that I was knee deep in what I was doing, I called onto Austin to play his role as older brother.

“Take Ryder out to play on the swing.” I tell him. “Ryder want to go play on the swing?” he sings in a melancholy tone. I swear I could here the word “Booorrrriiinnng!” being screamed throughout Austin’s mind, body and soul. “No.” Ryder replies. Obviously he is caught up with his own matter at hand as he resumed body slamming me. I tell Austin “No you say, Hey Ryder do YOU want ME to PUSH you on the SWING.” Austin gives it a go, laughing through the emphasized wording. Ryder stops mid rush and yells a triumphant “YES!” giggling as he runs to the door.

It’s amazing what a little emphasized wording and/or ego boosting can do, it honestly is. As I watched them head out to the old tire swing, it was the emphasized wording from my youth that grabbed hold of my attention. Once when I was 10 or so my brother (5 years older) bored out of his mind invented a game where he and his friend would have a contest at who could throw the furthest from the top of the lawn. Being of the sporting nature the boys decided to use their younger siblings to up the ante. “Come on it will be Fuunnn” he says “Plus, you don’t want me to lose to him…do you?” “We got to stick together...right?” echoed through my like a sacred call for our family to unite. I was in. Looking back now, I honestly cannot believe that not one of us broke a limb.

As it turned out the boys decided to work together. Each boy would grab an arm and a leg, our bellies facing the ground. Whosever sister landed the furthest was the winner. So you see, it was all about us girls getting the distance. And I really didn’t want to let my brother down. The game ended when I hit the curb and started bleeding (this of course was after quite a few throws). I was about to run home and tell when my brother caught me. “Wait a minute, where are you going?” He asked panicking. “I’m going home, I don’t want to play anymore.” I remember spouting through tears. “But…you WON” he declared. As the words left his lips he suddenly became aware of all that should follow. “You WON!” he indulged me again. Laughing and giving me a good hearty shake “you DID it!” he announced. Just like that, within an instant of time, I was reborn victorious.

The power of win had taken over me and I could feel my skin glowing with its illuminating strength. This must be what feels like to sink the winning basket, as it was my score but a win for my team. After having lapped up all that there was drink of the winning waters I composed myself enough to let a short smug filled burst of “In your face” at our losing opponents. High fives filled the air and I walked away on clouds.

Looking back I see the knowing glance between my brother and his friend. The wiping of the brow and “boy you got off that time” glance. Followed by a very distinct shrug filled with “what can you do.” Could it be that my victory was in fact a forfeit? A ugly non-illuminating forfeit?

Nah...

I was going to tell you about the cat having babies on my head as a kid..but this post is getting rather long. Maybe next time. I'll be around to check out blogs soon...I can't believe how bad I have been with the net lately...SORRY.

Ants and Fire

2009-08-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

I’m sure ants serve a purpose in our comfy home called earth; in fact I know they do. Turns out they aerate our dirt, sex up some of our plants and hide dead bodies. All of these are great attributes to have in a friend (well maybe not the sex/plant part, that’s a glimpse into botany that I don’t mind missing out on). But let’s face it; befriending an ant is entirely impossible.

First there is that pesky human-insect language barrier. I like to talk; in fact I like all aspects of talking. Something tells me (and I don’t mean to preemptively judge) they are not big talkers. They seem more dedicated to the task of hunting and gathering, droned out zombies in search of delectable treasures. Munchies? While I can definitely board this train, I’m not certain that it’s the only thing that can get me through the day. Well I hope not anyway.

Also, ants have no sense (whatsoever) of personal space. One could mistake this act as an eagerness (from the ants part) to know you, when in fact ants could care less who, what and where you are. Their greed is overwhelming and their ability to attain their desire is a bit disturbing. Not to mention they roll in packs, in larger form I’m certain they’d make the Mafia look like a pack of pussies. Eat your heart out Capone; no really they would definitely eat his heart out. Sick bastards!

It is the latter of the two that gets me most, although I would like to have the ability to tell them to fuck off without having to depend on pesticides (but I admit that’s just because I like to have a reason to use the word fuck). The infiltration of ants this summer has led me down a deep dark circling path to all things hate filled. I despise and loathe entirely the insect creature called ant.

I don’t know if it was the spider massacre that brought forth the ant invasion or if it is just the summer heat driving them indoors. I just know they have this unstoppable mentality that is driving me batty. Every morning for two weeks I had to kill and then clean up ant carcasses. The tediousness of it all almost had me in tears one morning as I found our stove literally crawling with my nemesis. Turns out my husband ‘Ant’ had left a little something so unfathomably desirable behind after making a “snack” before bed, leading to the overtaking of my stovetop.

I have to tell you nothing is more aggravating than having to “take care” of ants before cooking the kids breakfast. No wait, I was wrong the constant cry of “we’re hungry” definitely brought forth a rage so intense that Kaiser Souzai himself would have been shaking in his boots. And the appropriate cherry for this cake? No bug killer. Eff eff EFF!!!! I was seriously about to lose my shit, when I spotted in a ray of angelic light a can of ‘Lysol Disinfectant Spray’. A glee of hope ran its course through my veins as I went to battle with my trusty can of disinfectant killer.

I sprayed a heavy coating, so thick that the kickback from the scent had me choking for air, and I watched as they started to lie down in their deaths. After wiping down the counters I started to dismantle the stove, when it happened the second line of troops came barreling out from underneath the burners “catch” trays. I grabbed the trays and threw them in the sink, revealing the rest of them. WTF?!?!?! I grabbed my can and started spraying; nearly emptying it’s contents. Their militant training called for sporadic movement they were, everyfuckingwhere! If at all on Saturday July 25th you felt an overwhelming surge of all things good happening at approximately 8 am PDT that was an effect of which I put forth great efforts to concentrate all things evil to destroy these bastards. It was then at that precise moment, in all of my sadistic rage, I reached for the starter knob on my stove. At the first click of the starter the corner of my lips upturned with devilish delight, it was at the second click that ignition flared up turning my stovetop into a fireball of death. The whole thing busted into blue flames. My first instinct was to revel in the glory of their deaths, but somehow that didn’t take precedence as I quickly reacted and smothered out the flames.

So yeah alcohol based products and fire do not mix well, unless you’re into that sort of thing.

Validated Parking

2009-08-10T12:39:00.001-07:00

I wait for you there in your field of green. The journey that waits takes the two of us to dream. In the iris all else is lost. Time stands still, as distant echoes sound as our way home. Calls from our present play a song of solitude, we are alone here nothing will need to be unsaid. I wait here for you and lay in the tall blades. Gazing up I can see dew drops of memories forming at tips. Clear as day, highlighted by the sun, when we decided to run away and make our three into one. In the iris I too get lost, caught up in memory puddles I go for a swim, any minute now you too will dive in. Somewhere between the scent of a newborn and the wrap around porch a breeze picks up and the willow tree leans. Dew drops float off in a misted gleam, I sit here in front of you and find your stare. You look right through me as I fade past your eyes, transparency burns. The sound of breaking silence starts with the ring of your phone, your answer is the final you are alone. You exit to get better reception. Reception is odd how it comes and goes, somehow I feel stuck in the dead zone. The want for better comes in many forms, you want more for us and I want more of us.

That's all I have to say about that.

Anyway, it appears I have dropped off the www I have much to share and much to catch up on...

Life is Like a Box of Chocolates

2009-07-07T08:45:00.000-07:00

I love clear coffee mugs (ccm). I mean...I really adore them. I can't quite put my finger on the draw to them, but it's there and it is pretty intense (I suppose). My last ccm broke almost over a year ago and I was literally heartbroken. I had picked it up at a local Dollar store and it wasn't an item they had kept in stock. Just like that *snaps fingers* I was suddenly being punished to a life of having to drink my coffee from ceramic mugs.

That is, until the other day when Mel and I were shopping at our local WalMart (kid less..it was AWESOME!) and I spotted them CLEAR COFFEE MUGS out of the corner of my eye as we were walking pass them. I stopped immediately and let out a big SQUEE of excitement and did a little hoppy dance thing over to them. Immediately I grabbed two and hugged them close to my body. Mel's fits of laughter caused a break in my trance of pure delight and I promptly put them into my cart. All that excitement made me have to detour to the bathroom.

Upon arrival we had noticed the door was propped wide open, Mel hinted towards the possibility of it being cleaned. "That would be just my luck" I thought as I walked in to investigate. Nope, the propped door was just a huge invite to enter. So I turned around to tell Mel that the coast was clear by twirling around, lifting one foot off the ground, throwing my arms out in a showman type of way (spirit fingers) and singing "nooooo". Only to find that she was nowhere in sight, 3 other people however found my little display of showmanship to be somewhat disturbing..fuckers!

I have this uncontrollable urge to buy things in even numbers. Even when I know I will only need 1, I can't help myself and I buy 2. My ultimate argument for this is that, next time I will have the 1. I am not sure when and where this started, to be honest I hadn't even realized it was something I did until one day someone pointed it out to me. Last week I needed to get some limes for a tea recipe Ant was interested in and a wing recipe I was working on. I had gathered my limes and started to walk away when I realized I had mindlessly added to my bag by the twos. Feeling a little wild, I went back and grabbed one extra lime.

Throughout the store I felt a little irked about it..one extra lime? It felt so wrong. At the checkout the teller interrupted me trying to get a handle on the kids by asking
"11 limes? That's how many you want?"
"What?" I had asked suddenly feeling like I shouldn't have grabbed the one extra lime..I mean who does that?
"You wanted 11 limes?" he asked again.
Feeling pressured I confessed "I am going outside of the box and buying odd numbers today, I feel totally liberated."
"But you did want 11?" he replies.

What is he doing? Yes I want 11, I want that odd number of limes doesn't it look like I want the odd number? After all I put and odd number in there. What is he some sort of even number police captain? Have I been mindlessly following a regime all along?
*looks around curiously*
"Yes....11, it's what I want" I respond sheepishly.
"Okay, just making sure that was the amount you intended to buy. You'd be surprised to know how many people don't realize how much fruit they are bagging until they get to the checkout." He assures me.

I am not sure about buying in odd numbers anymore..it was a pretty intense situation.

Today's SOTD is brought to you by the lovely weather we are having...it's a beautiful day, let's all enjoy it.

4 Things I Hate About You

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

I hate spiders, I fear spiders. I also fear/hate their webs. I have a bit of delusional arachnophobia, in the sense that I cannot kill one out of complete fear that it's posse will hunt my ass down and collect retribution on the death of their loved one. You know those bitches tend to gang up. Last week I spotted the most humongous spider I have ever seen, it was a bit of a cross between an octopus and a hermit crab on a web. A thick sticky web no doubt..the fucker. Naturally I hid in the house and waited for Ant to take care of it. And he did, but he left it there dead dangling in it's own web. I was going to take a picture of it for you guys, but I was scared the flash of my camera would shock some life into it.

A couple of days ago I noticed that the spider was gone. It completely disappeared. I searched all over for it's lifeless corpse but it was nowhere to be found. Fighting my natural urge to think that it's family carried it off for a proper burial while discussing the plan of action to take on us..I decided to believe (for the time being) that a bird had gobbled it up as a tasty, yet poisonous, snack...poor bird. I felt pretty good about that, until this morning when I found a huge spider in the middle of the doorway in our downstairs bathroom. Looking like a younger version of the Octocrab previously mentioned. Having just been in that bathroom last night while plucking away at my eyebrows, I knew that bastard was awaiting my return trip to get me. Damn it..why didn't Ant put the Octocrab into an iron bowl and take it to the middle of the field, burn it and bury it 8 ft deep like I had asked..why did he have to leave it there for it's family to find?

Panicking I grabbed the shop vac and went after it. My hands were shaking violently, causing me to miss (completely) the spider dead center of the web. It took off to the corner of the door way throwing it's front legs up in the air in a "bring it" fashion. I spun in circles not know what to do, I knew that I had to bring it or get broughted later down the road. The broom was at the other end of the house, getting to it would mean that I would have to pass the spider and risk the chance of it jumping at me. Hell to the no, I am not going that way. Being the super chicken that I am, I went outside to get to the other end of the house for the broom. Luckily just outside the door was a dust mop, wet from the sprinkler. "Hooray" I thought, "I will smash and drown it all at once." Knocking it down, I did just that. But...I don't know where the body is and now I am terrified.

To fix this I decided we are going to hire a pest control service to take care of that shit. Yes..now EVERYTHING must die. And I am fairly certain I will not come to feel any sorrow for the loss of these daily terrors. Much unlike the time when my dad had decided to get humane mouse traps when I was a kid. After a long late night chat with a "Grandfather" mouse my dad had decided that he couldn't stand to kill anymore "mice children". Apparently "Grandfather Mouse" had bridged the gap of rodents and humans by relating to my father the livelihood of children and their need for prosperity. After expressing great sorrow of having to see his own children die at the hands of our family, my dad gave his word to no longer take anyone of their lives again. Sending us all into tears the following day when retelling to us the death and destruction we had caused these inferior creatures.

Yes, I don't believe any "Grandfather" spider will have the ability to deter my wrath. So to you, the spider nation residing in my house, I say "You might want to speak with your doctor about other options available":

Happy 4th

2009-07-04T06:33:00.000-07:00

Here's a little twist in history, brought to you by the Whitest Kids You Know:

Hope everyone has a fun and safe 4th!!!

TDW Random Topic Round 3

2009-06-28T22:00:00.000-07:00

The Daily Wit posted 15 random topics for round 3 last week. These topics were SO random and terrifying that I had decided that I probably wouldn't participate this time around, when suddenly tonight a story unfolded. Not a very good story mind you, but a story nonetheless. Now that I have finished, I am eager to read Round 3 stories posted on other blogs (The Daily Wit, Rubbish and Travellinbaen)..please let me know if you have participated in this round. Thanks! Also..The Daily Wit created a seperate page for these writing series, visit it here.

Ugh, I absolutely despise the food court at the mall. I mean the mall itself makes me sick, as it is just a cornerstone for rich girls to discover the miracles of 'daddy’s' credit card. Unfortunately, the food court is the only place to get a decent Chicago style pizza...odd right? Where one could easily avoid suffering through a food court outing by ordering to go, I have my girlfriends annoyingly insisting to make a day of it. How this at all feels like a worthwhile experience to them leaves me in a state of total discombobulation.

During the course of “enjoying” our meal we somehow end up discussing the subtle differences between zucchini and cucumbers, outside of the clearly obvious distinctions I feel uncomfortable with this topic. The girls all know about my embarrassment behind purchasing cucumbers alone. This is an obvious ploy to redden my cheeks so I turn my attention elsewhere. Which is surprisingly easy to do at the mall…shocking I know.

A couple of tables over are a group of loud rambunctious boys, each wearing team shirts the Bulls, the Bears and the Skunks, obviously local teams. It’s hard for me to understand why they would be so willing to try and out do each other with answers to why did the zombie cross the road questions, yeah apparently the chicken is SO yesterday. Who am I to judge, anyway, my table is currently talking about subtle differences between vegetables for crying out loud. Wait is it a fruit? Whatever. The boys slowly build up from “to get to the other side” to “to get some cheesy puffs and watch Bill and Ted” to “to eat Ben Stein and free all the zombie slaves.” This quickly led into more graphic zombie eating habits.

Suddenly feeling disinterested with the boy’s conversation I decided to regain consciousness with the talk at my own table. Still on the vegetables, honestly how long can this one topic go? Tapping into my all things I random I say “#367 bribe old women with breakfast coupons to purchase shampoo at a senior rate.” “What?!” they respond collectively through laughter. “1001 ways to buy shampoo” I suggest without budging any further.

The sound of hoots and howling gave me the perfect escape of having to defend my randomness. Finding the instigator of said calls was easy to spot, a lady trying on a barely there suit had waltzed out of a changing room into perfect view of the full food court, sending testosterone charged calls to escape from every male in the area. What held this suit together is completely unfathomable, from the front alone I knew she would endure the pain of having sand in her bathing suit. I’m not sure if "in" is the right word, maybe more like around? IDK

In an effort to showcase the awesomeness contained in this one suit, she put forth great effort to sex it up in hopes to get a reaction out of her (so far) disapproving friend. You guessed it; it was runway walking and hair flipping all the way. Even I couldn’t help but watch this unfold. “Team boys” were going crazy loudly fantasizing about baby oil, pudding and ferret stroking. *sound of record screeching to a halt* Ferret stroking? WTF? Those chickens I got to tell you got dropped kicked right out of pop culture. I guess they're just no good to us now. *shrugs*
These calls really got the girl moving, causing her to walk towards the store window giving it all she had. Sending all the boys crazy with disbelief and pure satisfaction. I could see very clearly girlfriends categorically filing their boyfriends indiscretions deep into the their black box of post destruction feedback to either; A). Use it as means to and end in a future argument in a “exhibit A” manner ~or~ B). Use it for justification for dumping his ass later down the road. Yes it’s true we women can be catty bitches when we feel like it is necessary.

One thing is for sure; Scuzzy McSlutster would not be leaving that store without daggers from every g/f there slicing through her. Heading back she ended up tripping over a rug that a 4 y/o boy had previously bundled up to make jumps for his toy motorcycle. Shortly after fashioning this rug to his liking, this lovely display of all things sex appeal took place. Forcing his mother to snatch him up and leave the mall in a horrified manner, leaving behind what I like to call “the turn of fates.”

This fall caused the woman to react in an almost violent way. I suppose we all look like that when we are about to take a header, our bodies uncontrollably spasm while our brain tries to determine the correct course of action to take. Sending our arms and legs every which way, hoping that one of those directions will result in minimal damage. It was the confusion between the brain and limbs that did it, of that I’m sure. Causing the packing tape to pull loose, revealing to all what quite honestly, had been well hidden.

The gasps and horror that immediately replaced the catcalls of earlier, was practically timed with comedic precision. I swear I heard every single testicle jump up in a retreat like fashion, bearing forth the same affects of chemical castration, without the long-term results.

While this little episode definitely made the trip to the mall worth it, looking at the girls I could see nothing but determination in their faces to stay at least another hour in that hellhole. However I had no intentions of allowing that to happen. But it was going to take something drastic to get these girls up and moving. If you think about it, I mean especially after the testicle shrinking episode that just took place, I could very well pass the flashing of my chest to the “team boys” a charitable thing. One might even go so far as to say, it was the nice thing to do. But when push comes to shove, the security guard escorting me and my friends out of the mall was all for me and they didn’t take that lightly.

“#54 Send in a service dog with money and a note explaining your fear of old people and your highly allergic reactions to perm fumes” I say breaking the silence. “You know if you didn’t want to go out today, Becca, you could have just stayed home” I was instantly rebuffed.

"How would that have been any fun?" I wonder.

Father's Day Weekend

2009-06-22T11:00:00.000-07:00

For Father's Day weekend we headed to the coast. I cannot tell you how exciting the car ride was to the beach..kids make the world an easier place to..aww hell even I can't finish that line of bull. The kids were constantly on loud, either they were playing and loving each other, or they were screaming at how mean they thought the other one was. Ahhh..Father's Day weekend, I guess it's the same as any other day after all.
Finally we make it to the beach and I personally couldn't be happier to get out of the car and let the sound of the ocean drown out the constant rants of the ~~hell beasts~~ kids. Because honestly having to referee between a 9 and 3 year old is ridiculous.

It was freezing on Saturday, the wind was incredibly strong causing me to lose my footing every now and then. Clumsy people should not walk around on windy days. I love that little building mid cliff, mainly because it has a sign pinned to it that says "Keep Out"...alright, will do.
At some point Ant decided that he did not like the hotel so we cancelled our reservations and set off to find another one. I cannot even allow myself to bore you with the details of that.

So here it is, our new hotel and the kids couldn't be happier, if that isn't any indication to the drawn out process of choosing a new hotel I don't know what is.

Above is our view from the hotel we stayed at, it's of the Noyo Harbor. The bar scene from Overboard was filmed here. I should have taken a picture of the view from the Wharf to capture the Arturo and Catalina story for you all.

Point Cabrillo Light Station

Ant and Ryder checking out the sunbathing seals.

Point Arena Lighthouse

Jughandle beach

Navarro River and beach

Austin had decided that he had complete control of the ocean. To further prove this theory he taunted it relentlessly until it decided to hurl huge waves out at him, where he would loudly exclaim "you see! I control the ocean" and would then carry on saying things like "you call that a wave?!" into the depths beyond. I could very clearly see him as an old mad man outraging the ocean and taking curious pride in his own ability to do so...I have never felt more disturbed.

Our time at the beach was mainly spent in quiet reflection (outside of the torture of having kids question everything non-stop that is). Ant is not big on talking, so I was left to chat away with myself. Thinking away long curious thoughts and making universes in my hand with sand...it's a long story. I look over and see Ant possibly doing the same thing and ask what he is thinking about he says "nothing..why?" "just curious I say". I wait to see if he wonders what is in my thoughts, hell no he won't even attempt to open that can of worms...that almost makes me laugh. And I remember my universe in my hand, I had forgotten that I was holding onto it, slowly I had crumbled it to almost nothing. Looking at what was left, it was hard to realize what had been lost and what had remained. I am an awful keeper of the universe and should possibly leave it to the powers that be.

Happy Father's Day!!!

2009-06-21T05:00:00.000-07:00

To all you Fathers out there, that put forth the effort into being a Dad, this day is for you.

Your efforts are appreciated.

In the End Being Poor is Cool

2009-06-19T08:30:00.000-07:00

I was watching an episode of Chelsea Lately last night. I really like the round table portion of the show, where her and her guest comedians talk trash about everyone. That interactive dialogue really brings out opportunities to say something humorous and I enjoy watching how they feed off one another. However, I usually do not stick around for the rest of the show. Last night I did stick around and witnessed a weird interview with MC Hammer. You can’t touch this. Blah blah blah he has a new reality show. Blah bla Hammer pants, what’s up with those? Chelsea could not escape her curiosity of how/why those pants were ever birthed into existence. Which lead her to relentlessly badger him on the subject. Awkward. Ultimately thanking him for being responsible for one of her worst looks ever.

This got me thinking about how I can honestly look back through time, over all the horrific fads and never have the urge to say “OMG I can’t believe I ever wore that.” Not because I had a conscious frame of mind of all things fashionably savvy, mind you, but because we were ridiculously poor and unable to pay into the “in look.” Ever the rainbow seeker, I can’t help but grin knowing that our time of hardship has spared us those guilty feelings of buying into mainstream America. I will admittedly say however, had we the cash I would so be regretting our fashion faux pas of the past. What? Teenagers can’t help themselves. Heck, women in general can’t help themselves.

Which leads me to those people who are not trendy. No not those people who could give a shit, the ones who are trying very hard to not be trendy. You know the type, always announcing how they could never buy into the trend of today’s times, refusing to be another bleak sheep amongst the herds roaming aimlessly about. Their music choice includes anything that has NOT gone mainstream, which they smugly confess to on a regular basis. To you, the overtly intentional non-trendy being, my question is do you not realize how trendy that is?

Now That's What I'm Talking About

2009-06-17T10:28:00.000-07:00

Random Tuesday; Wait where was I going with this?

2009-06-16T12:40:00.000-07:00

Something tells me that our cat (Bailey) has become incredibly lazy and has decided to take care of business wherever she damn well pleases. I know this because, I found a spot in which she damn well pleased. I have to say, cat business is POTENT. Even in the smallest amounts it can render a house unbearable forcing it's occupants outdoors gasping for fresh air. If cats were to ever take world domination seriously, cat business would be the perfect ingredient for weapons of mass destruction (member FDIC). No matter how much you clean up after a cat, you can't help but feel that the essence is still lingering about. The next night while at the computer, my nose caught wind of cat essence. Instantly triggering my brain to set forth the effort in finding left overs from Bailey's digested meals. I looked everywhere, to the point that I was on my hands and knees sniffing corners. When suddenly it hit me, that the shorts I had slipped into were ones that I had grabbed from my bedroom floor. "NO!" I thought "not my shorts" I hurriedly slipped them off and was in the middle of getting a nose full of clean short smell, when I heard "what ARE you doing?" in an irritated Ant voice. *scoff* "Sniffing my shorts, what does it look like I am doing?" I reply laughing while I casually slid them back on. Not wanting to hear another word Ant simply shook his head and went to bed.

Yesterday when walking through my back yard a stick came to life and slithered off into a mound of mint. Which sent me into a fit of hopping about in violent shudders. I am not deathly afraid of snakes mind you, unless of course they are poisinous and vengeful. Seeing one does not usually send me into fits of apocalyptic proportions, in the sense that I would climb the nearest being while spitting venomous curses in it's direction kicking and screaming until the sweet release of consciousness escapes me. But unknowingly coming across one can definitely put a hop in my step, and so was this case. Having something you assume to be one thing and it turning out to be another can be quite shocking after all. Reminding me of my discovery of stick bugs when I was younger. My family was protesting (No Nukes!).....I know shocking right? A girl named Harmony born to hippie parents? Some of us simply fall into stereotypes, while others try very hard to be one. Whether we're ignorantly basking in or in the act of climbing out of one social puddle into another ultimately, I suppose, we can all be labeled casualties for the PC. I'm not quite sure (just yet) what my official puddle is, I'll just continue to splash about if you don't mind. Wait..what was I talking about..oh yeah stick bugs , they're among us.

What Happens When a 2 Turns Into a 3?

2009-06-15T08:04:00.000-07:00

Saturday Ryder turned 3. It's funny how these milestones can leave you with that "blink of an eye moment" feeling. How suddenly it can be that your looking into your babies eyes for the first time and with little pause watch him blow out three candles. One by one, taking pause to inhale he can hardly contain his excitement to be allowed to be this close to a flame. One by one, as I relive every moment that made that one candle significant.

Happy Birthday Ryder! Baby pics here

Note to Self

2009-06-12T14:30:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up and did what I always do, I looked to the windows in the loft area to try and decipher the time. "6:00" I thought reaching for the phone and hitting the end button to light up the screen. To my surprise it was 5:18, the knowledge of that had me practically skipping out of bed. I grabbed my hooded sweater and headed outdoors. I love my children and I adore watching them play, but there is just something so beautiful about the still of the morning. Watching life carry on without the interference of another human soul is too serene and thought provoking for me to give up this selfish habit.

By the time Ant and Ryder (Austin had a sleep over with his Papa) finally made their way downstairs I was fully enthralled in the book that I had shelved three days ago. I am desperate to learn the need for Campbell's service dog, and waiting to read his thoughts on Julia is pure torture. I am SO horribly distracted with the two of them I can hardly tolerate the basis of the book. Honestly, it's not that hard to let my mind become curious with this other story line. The other one evokes emotions I can hardly even begin to allow myself to feel. My unwillingness to do so leaves me feeling sorry for those who have no choice. In the mean time I'll concentrate on the more tolerable of the scenarios and deal with the rest at the end of the book, I suppose.

Having put the book aside, I head to the kitchen to start breakfast; french toast. As I am putting the first two slices in the pan Ant makes his way in from his morning routine; working on the property. He glides his way through the kitchen and heads straight for the living room. I follow to ask him about watering, where he is already lost in the glow of the television. Hearing only every couple of words or so, he gives a vague response. There is no point in trying now, so I turn to head back to the task at hand. He assumes I am pissed, and announces so. I hate when he falters on this assumption, why does my leaving the room suggest I am pissed? We then have a pointless spat regarding whether or not I am pissed. After I convince him that I am indeed not pissed but close to being so anyway I am able to return to the pan of burning french toast.

Note to self: Do not walk away while cooking french toast.

I remove the toast from the pan and replace it with newly dipped bread. I glance out the window to see if Ryder is still playing on a dirt mound. He is there, content, pushing dirt around with his tractor. It amazes me his ability to feel comfort in his solitude. I wonder what type of man he will become. When I suddenly find myself thinking of the blogs I had read this morning and how amazing they were. I thought of the male bloggers (that I read) and how they have so many female followers. I wonder to myself, what it is that draws all these women in. Is it that need to have a curious glimpse into the male psyche, as if we are not learning enough about it from our own significant others. *shrugs* My mind rolls all around the blogosphere, reminiscing over favorite lines out of everyone posts. I wonder about the authenticity of the author, is this who they are or who they wish to be? And would knowing the answer even make a difference. Ryder all the while pushes his dirt, unaware of my eyes searching through him. Something pleases him and he throws his head back to encourage the escape of his laughter, bringing me back to my home planet. I turn to flip the french toast.

Note to self: Don't meander around in thought while cooking french toast.

Guest Posting Is Scary

2009-06-10T10:06:00.000-07:00

This morning I was able to get up on time. I had great things planned for this morning, plans of the cleaning kind that is. Instead I caught up on a few blogs, and then decided to go read. Oh the dread I felt, walking towards my new book. I sat down with it and instead decided to watch some television, but before I even got around to turning the t.v. on I decided not to. It's pretty chilly out so I ruled out sitting on the porch and watching the morning happen. I know, life is kind of dull around here.

Not wanting to sit around and do nothing, I decided to take on The Daily Wit's creative writing assignment. Plus he called me a chicken and well, I guess school yard bullying works wonders on me. I submitted it this morning and he has said he is going to run it as a guest post some time today. So if you like stop by his place and check out the nonsense I came up with. Travellinbaen posted his version and it is a wonderful read, so go on over and check out his story "The Mad Man". Also..to everyone else who is participating will you promise to give me a heads up when your story is available?

The SOTD is brought to you by the letter I, such a self-inolved letter isn't it?

Tuesday's Ramble..It Means Nothing.

2009-06-09T12:01:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up late, an hour late. Even worse, I had nowhere to go. As soon as my eyes opened and I could see the light coming through the windows, I knew it was past 6. *sigh* This happened yesterday also. Just as suddenly as school ended and the summer days began, my body decided it wanted to sleep in an extra hour knowing it didn't have to wake the kids at 7. But I like my early morning routine, so I must fight it and reclaim my 5:30 start time.

Before the kids and hubby rolled out of bed and headed down the stairs I managed to do almost all of my housework. Although they caught me in the middle of ~~playing some gnarly air guitar~~ mopping.

The Daily Wit has turned the tables and decided to call out his readers to write a story with a list of 15 topics that he himself handpicked. I can think of quite a few of you who would be amazing at this. Not wanting to pick favorites (SO Switzerland like that) I will just direct you all on over to his site to take a look at the list of topics.

I started reading My Sister's Keeper last night, a part of me is not wanting to go on reading this book. From the get go, I have wanted to put it down and walk away. The story gives me such mixed feelings, it's hard to know which way to lean. Except the obvious way, which seems so wrong. *sigh* Conflicting emotions can eat it. In the story there is a lawyer named Campbell Alexander, whenever this character is in scene I can't help but think of Travellinbaen (TB). For no reason whatsoever, outside that TB is a lawyer, and very hilariously funny. Otherwise I have no clue to who he (TB) is or for that matter what he looks like. Yet, when the portions of the book titled "Campbell" are open I think of TB. I think the blogosphere is messing with my mind.

My favorite color for as long as I can remember has been Orange. And I really like the sparkle of silver. But if anyone were to ask me what my favorite color is, I would seize up. Completely unable to commit to one color at the very moment, I would suddenly announce that my favorite color is "clear". To me clear is a perfect answer for anyone unwilling to commit a life long world of color coded gifts that seem to fit your liking based solely on a color you once uttered in a brief conversation regarding favorites at the moment in time. *breath* Clear is not a color, nor does it hint towards anyone one spectrum of color. Clear is perfect, AND it is mysterious, or frightening. I have no idea, as no one has ever told me their favorite color is clear. What say you?

Early Sunday morning while the kids and hubby were asleep, I was up sweeping and mopping. Readying the house for the days festivities (a BBQ for my Dad's birthday), when a hummingbird made it's way in through an open door. It busied itself crazily, in hopes of finding an exit. Zipping through here and there, letting anxiety get the better of him. I could almost hear the pounding of it's tiny little heart. Foolishly I tried showing him the way out, as it sat perched up on a ceiling fan blade. "You see, through here and look it's freedom" waving my hands in a glorious fashion. Ignoring me he took flight towards the kitchen to take a long curious gaze into the skylight, yet again. Praying I suppose. After an hour or so, of beating it's head into the ceiling and frantically smashing it's face into the atrium windows above the sink, I decided enough was enough and grabbed a small quilt to catch it. It all but crawled into my hand, completely wiped out from his hour long struggle. I carried him out to the side porch, there is a tree across the driveway with pink fluffs on it (flowers?) I see them flying about there sometimes and figure familiarity will relieve him. He flies straight for the tree. Taking a long leisurely rest, before he is off for good in his world of freedom. Sometimes I wish I were bird. What a horrible bird I would make, fear of heights would have me teased daily I suppose. Stupid birds.

Today's SOTD is brought to you by the color orange and my inability to commit to it.

Don't Mess With Mel

2009-06-05T11:00:00.000-07:00

Disheveled and caught off guard, he quickly exits his car and stands before her. Bewilderment consumes him as he opens his mouth to question her motive. The act of opening ones mouth to find that there are no words willing to escape is a terrifying thing to be victim of. And this betrayal pains him, hopelessly he must wait for her to take the lead.

At my nieces birthday in March, my sister Melody told us of a blue Ford Expedition that took to parking across the street in the evening. Curiously enough the car would suddenly appear, stay for an hour or so and leave without anyone exiting or entering said car. This had gone on for some time leaving the street inhabitants to wonder just what the purpose for all this parking was. One night coincidentally, my sisters FIL had noticed the car leaving it's usual place and upon their exit something was tossed out the window. Curious as ever he found himself standing before the tossed object and lying there in plain sight for all to see was the answer to all their query.

It can be shocking to learn that some disgusto was having conjugal visits in their car across the street from where you are raising you children. Even more disturbing is they find the street, in which you allow your children to ride bikes, suitable dumping grounds for their bodily fluids and foresight of safe sex.

Filled with rage and disgust Mel vowed to take action. Putting to plan that with their next appearance she would get evidence of their next encounter and notify the police. Time moved on and the car remained unseen. That is until the night before last.

He must have noticed her as she was walking up with her trusty sidekick. To be honest it wouldn't have been that hard as it was around 8 pm. The sun was setting but it wasn't quite dark yet. He stumbled out before her (sans sock/shoes/and his over shirt) as she was wrapping up her little photo op. I can only imagine what he saw in her face, as Melody adapted our mother's "I will kill you if you so much as inhale" look. A look, I might add, still has the ability to turn me into stone and reduce me to a babbling nitwit. Being an effective look, he stood there motionless and listened intently when she said "I have a picture of your license plate. Children live on this street. If I EVER see you here again I will call the police." Dumbstruck he turned back to his car, heeding her warning and drove away.

Only to return 5 minutes later (fully dressed), feeling indignant he decided he too had something to say. Upon knocking on their door, he was met up with my BIL and in a righteous manner he announced "I am not aware of my right, but I hardly believe there is anything illegal with parking on a street". With that my BIL (Vince) questioned their last parting gift, leaving the boy to stumble about idiotically. Where he then recalled friends who sometimes borrow his car, eagerly suggesting that it wasn't him who would do such a thing. In a desperate attempt to relate, he notifies them of his understanding of having children and their need to protect them, as he has a baby cousin. Yes, that totally bridges that gap. In the end he give apologies, and promises to never return.

After Mel had finished up her recount of that night on the phone with me the other morning we had the following conversation:

Me: Wait...he didn't have socks or shoes on? Who takes of their socks and shoes to get busy in a car?

Mel: I know! Isn't car sex the ultimate quickie?

Me: Yeah. You should have told him "Dude you are fucking in a car, not making love..it's okay to leave the socks and shoes on"

Mel: *laughing* That would be hilarious

Me: Fucking teenagers and their love making, it's the only way to get a teenage boy laid. When exactly is it that it just turns into sex? You know it was his girlfriend that made him come back and confront you. *rolling eyes* Honor and whatnot. How hilarious would it be if he had a bill for the damage done to his car, as your sudden appearance made him scramble causing him to knock over lit candles that singed his seat?

A Tale from the Stall

2009-06-02T13:33:00.001-07:00

"Mommy I fawted" Ryder tells me one busy afternoon. "What? What was that sweetie?" I ask trying to catch up with my current distraction. "I SAID, I FAWTED!" he exclaims. "Oh, that's good sweetie" I reply, letting my mind travel back to the task at hand. "Nooo, you say tootie butt mommy" reminding me of my usual response to the unleashing of the bag of winds. "Oh, you TOOTIE BUTT" I tell him teasingly. He responds with an appreciative smile and walks away proudly.

And so it begins, the acknowledgement of bodily functions. It won't take long now, for him to be the one calling me out on my bathroom indiscretions. The "I won't make it home...it's business time" (no not that business time) trips to the bathroom will become his platform for my public humiliation.

Unknowingly he will give a clear and descriptive play by play to the neighboring stalls. "Mommy you go potty?" questioning the need for the bathroom. Heaven forbid a toot to escape, as he will loudly question "Mommy you fawted?!" through fits of teasing laughter. Shock and embarrassment will only feed his amusement. So I'll try and distract him from anything having to do with me, by pointing out the holes in the ceiling tiles. This distraction could only last a few seconds, as he will suspect foul play. Because honestly what's so riveting about the tiny holes in ceiling tiles? Wondering what could possibly take so long (regardless of how long it is taking), he'll start to question me with "Mommy you pooping? You pooping Mommy?" in relentless form. Ignoring altogether my pleas of silence .

Chuckles from neighboring patrons will be released abruptly, without follow up of understanding. Exiting the stall with the slightest shred of dignity is lost when, he suddenly realizes his captive audience, and then reveals to all that I was indeed his subject of curiosity. Beads of sweat produce, while nervous chuckles of laughter escape my throat. Waving of the hands in a given up fashion, and a shrug suggest "guilty as charged". The task of washing my hands is a long and torturous struggle, as I would just like to get the heck out of there.

Sometime later in the year, he will develop specific wording of disgust and pepper it in with his questioning "eew did you fart Mommy?" or "that smells disgusting, is it you mommy?". Even farther down the line will come the ever dreaded physical reaction. Such as the holding of the nose or even worse the act of gagging. By that time of course the innocent questioning basically turned into down right ridicule.

I suppose that's my just deserts, as I can clearly remember my sister (Jessica) and I taunting our Dad through the closed bathroom door. To this day, I am baffled as to why we would ever do such a thing. To say we feared our parents is an understatement, but there must have been something awfully secure looking about that door. Because as soon as it shut, we would race up to it quickly announcing our disgust. "Eww, do you smell that?" one of us would always open with. Quickly followed by "Yes..it's disgusting!". On and on we would go, laughing at his expense, regardless of the intended use for his bathroom visit. We tortured him with our disgust, as he sat on the other side of the door screaming at us "to go the fuck away". Soon followed the threats, usually we would be scared stiff but the only thing that got us moving was the sound of the toilet flushing. And as soon as that happened, we would break down into tears and run for safety, immediately regretting the decision to taunt him. But like I said, the door would shut with him inside, and we were right back to heckling. I don't remember what exactly broke us of such a horrible habit, perhaps it is better that way. Our Mom is convinced that we gave him a huge complex about using the bathroom. And so it goes, the circle of life in full motion.

The Story ~ TDW

2009-06-02T07:02:00.000-07:00

Please take a moment to take this link express ride over to The Daily Wit. He finally posted the finished product of our random topic requests.

Mondays are for Miscellany

2009-06-01T07:56:00.000-07:00

Because Steph is finally releasing details of her prison saga, she was unable to do her usual Monday's are for Miscellany post. A tradition of hers that I have come to love, one that ultimately reminds me when Mondays are in occurrence. However, as you can all see, I've remembered it's Monday all on my own. Since I believe Monday's should not go without a Miscellany post and because I have all sorts of love for Steph..I do this in her honor. But keep in mind I am not the awesomeness that is Steph, only Steph is holder of stephawesome.

1. The Daily Wit is working on what could be the most amazing post known to man. He recently called out to his readership asking for 15 "whatever we can possibly think up" topics (click the link to find out what was suggested) to build a story board with. I am eager to read the results and encourage all of you to keep an eye out for this upcoming post.

2. I hate buying cucumbers, I feel like such a perv when doing so. Of course the bigger the better, and you want one that is firm and perfect. You know, something with a bite to it. Whenever I am sorting through and fondling cucumbers in search of the perfect one, I always get an instinctual feeling that everyone is watching me thinking nasty thoughts. I suddenly want to talk openly about the salad I am preparing with dinner, or start an open conversation regarding great recipes that list cucumbers as an ingredient. Or to blatantly yell out "I do not fuck cucumbers." I haven't the slightest idea where this guilt comes from, as I never thought to do any sort of indecent act with any vegetable or non-human for that matter. But regardless of all of that I usually stand guilty before the cucumbers, hesitantly sorting through and feeling like a perv.

3. It's impossible to write about feeling like perv when buying cucumbers without sounding like a HUGE perv.

4. I have decided to do a 5 year plan that will lead to a vacation abroad. A one week, plus two days for travel, vacation. I decided that 5 years is the perfect amount of time to plan and save for a vacation. BUT and this a huge BUT (demonstrated by my use of all caps), I haven't the slightest idea as to where to travel. I've never been anywhere...honestly. I told my husband about my plans and he said "why would you want to leave the United States if you never been anywhere IN the United States?" That is a good question, but I have 5 years to get around the good 'ol USA before heading overseas. I'd like to do a low key vacation, backpacking and whatnot. I'm not looking for spa like resorts, but I would rather not have to eat something like gizzard on a stick. Do any of you have suggestions on where to go?

5. Another great thing with the five year plan is that my children will be 8 and 14, perfect ages to leave for a week. I think. However, that would mean that having more children is not going to happen. Right now I feel selfish, and I am okay with that. Tomorrow could be another story.

6. Ryder is turning 3 in two weeks. The worst part about your child turning 3 is that they can no longer be classified as a baby. 3 = toddler, toddler = responsibility for your own actions (rfyoa), rfyoa = tough love, tough love = sad parents, sad parents = drinking. Wait..is that the equation? I am really going to miss two.

7. I have been painting our house off and on since we moved in. For the most part I like all of the colors that I picked, all of them being nice neutral colors. I didn't go through the long process of grabbing samples and taping them to my walls while choosing our colors. I would simply walk up and allow myself a five minute maximum to look at the colors, if I couldn't decide at the end of five minutes I knew I would never get anything accomplished. This method of choosing colors has worked out nicely. Another method I tried, had to do with the name of the paint..one of them including my name "Harmony". Narcissism, not so great of a method, as I now realize that I need to repaint my kitchen. I also have a horrible urge to have a red wall somewhere in my house, mainly having to do with the fact that I once seen a commercial about depression.

That's all I got for now, my phone keeps ringing and I am bad at multi-tasking.

The song of the day is brought to you by The Daily Wit...not that he mentioned it, just that it is what I think of when thinking of his upcoming post. I know, I know it's like the 3rd or 4th time it's been on my blog as the sotd..sorry.

QotD: Does Sex = Forgiveness?

2009-05-22T07:26:00.000-07:00

Say, you and your significant other had a disagreement. Perhaps mean and hurtful things were said, and bad feelings were harbored. Leading to a day or so of uneasiness when in the same room together. You are able to carry on conversation, but both parties know that the shit has hit the fan.

Let's say, you know that you are not wrong and that an apology can fix everything. But your spouse is steadfast in their stubbornness and will not budge. Time goes on, feelings don't change..but suddenly during the middle of the night, you end up have super hot steamy sex (SHSS). Does SHSS mean that you suddenly forgive your spouse or that you are just a horny nympho that can't shut down shop long enough to get your point across?

So, in your books, does sex = forgiveness?

No..this does not directly relate to anything happening in my life at this moment. But...Yes, in Ant's book sex = forgiveness. In mine, sex = sex and apologies bring out forgiveness.

(Today's song of the day is brought to you by the loser in the WalMart parking lot, blasting it out in all of it's has-been wonder.)

The Sun Will Set For You...

2009-05-21T13:02:00.000-07:00

I remember the first time I spotted you, so new to my eye I could hardly resist staring. It was the first time I had that feeling; that need in having to have. You could care less. Sitting there, ignorant to my want. Basking in the glory of your own awesomeness. Anyone would call you smug bordering arrogant, had they not seen what I seen.

Taking you home with me, made me feel accomplished. I only had one purpose for you, but I soon realized I would be taking you everywhere with me. As time wore on, your sturdy youth slowly faded away. But you never gave up and you never backed down. Torn fabric and holes riddled your body, your sole exposed to the harshness of the earth. Slowly I felt you let go of me, way before I could ever begin to let go of you. I never gave up, I never walked away. Until now.

It was cute and whimsical the way you showed the world my colored no-show socks. Looking down I was always reminded of the brilliance of inner youth and how we must carry on no matter the circumstances. Soon the rain came, and together we soaked in it. I hadn't realized the damage that could have been done to us both. I didn't know that you were at risk.

Today I set you free into a world unknown, the light will guide you home*...I'm hoping this will fix you.

RIP Converse...although there are many like you in this world, I will not so effortlessly replace you. I promise you that.

*Perhaps Coldplay's "Fix You" isn't the justification of murderous acts I had questioned it to be in my previous post. Maybe he lost, a really good pair of shoes.

"Something is Different in the L O" (Jessica O)

2009-05-18T07:30:00.000-07:00

As some of you may have noticed, I changed the title of my blog. There are a couple of reasons for doing so:

One being, that no one knew what L O meant..although totally intended, I now regret it.

And..I do not live in L O anymore. So, what the heck, why not change it...right?

It all started the other night when my sister (Mel) declared that she was going to find my theme song for the year. Last year it was Patty Smyth's "The Warrior," for the sheer opportunity to fire off imaginary guns during the chorus. What?! *scoff* I challenge ALL of you to defy the urge to fire your pistols during the chorus. With that said, I must say a full year of imaginary pistol firing may have taken it's toll on me, as I somehow developed the ever creepy point and wink greetings. Making it worse, I had unknowingly added in a little "flair" with a head boppish thing, as if I was cuing in a back up dancer. But no worries needed here, I am fully recovered...sticking with the chorus, and the chorus alone these days.

Moving on...Mel went through her phone, searching through all of her music files. She'd play a song, and repeat the lyrics as the song played. She got a good kick out of suggesting Coldplay's "Fix You", in which listening to her repeat those lyrics gave a whole new dark and twisted meaning to the song...and I decided that he is a murderer. She inevitably got to Fall Out Boy...Mel is a hardcore fan of the band...which is awesome. It was Grenade Jumper she was repeating the lyrics of, when she read "living like life's going out of style" we both agreed to the awesomeness behind those lyrics..and I said "That would make a great blog title". She agreed and said "You should make it yours"...I nodded my head in agreement, but felt something was off. I decided I was much too boring for a title like that, and shrugged it off. And that is when she got to "The (After) Life of the Party" before she was able to delve into the lyrics, I had proclaimed it the best blog title ever...stating that it fit me perfectly being that I am married with children. The song itself does not relate, but whatevs..you win some, you lose some..and then you go home and change your blog title. At least, that's what I did.

No..we haven't yet found my theme song for the year. I better get on it, before this year completely passes me by.

PotD: Bee Pollen & Green Porno

2009-05-15T15:38:00.000-07:00

Watching the bees getting after the pollen made me think of these (thanks LOTD):

Check out the rest @ Sundance Channel...go ahead click it, you won't be sorry.

What's Your Last Name?

2009-05-13T06:00:00.000-07:00

Sorry guys, it's another repeat post from February '08.....forgive me.

4 years ago I attended (among thousands) my brother's graduation from College. Being the young and vibrant twenty something that we were, my sister (Jess) and I decided to make shirts for the event. Showcasing our love and pride for our older brother, just knowing that among the sea of people he would spot us and know that we ROCK!

Before entering the stadium, we decided to use the restroom, to ensure that we wouldn't miss a beat at this momentous occasion. The bathroom was pretty empty, just the females of our family, using the stalls and talking amongst each other.

Jess and I are in neighboring stalls and I hear her toot. Now, because my inner child is no more than 5, and I have the horrid belief that all things fart are hilarious, I start laughing. There is a moment of pause and then *toot*, (now because I have already explained the age of my inner child, you can very well tell I am VERY behind on my playground wits) I beckon out to the toot at hand and ask "oh yeah...what's your last name?"

That's right I dug deep and pulled out the ever aged question of the century. I am what you might call Vintage, yeah I think vintage works.

Sending my sister and I into the giggles of all giggles, just a faint breath away from OML (old man laughing). Toot! Again she is tooting, I cannot believe she is so forth coming with it all. It was hilarious. With this toot she ask the ever hilarious "what's YOUR last name?" Sending us into a fit of laughter.

We finish up and exit the stalls, red faced with laughter and cheeks wet with tears. Trying to not look at each other, in fear of another full on outburst. We start to wash up and notice a woman (not from our party) glaring at us. A part of me is ashamed. But that part would be our mom, telling us how ashamed she was (while holding back laughter). I almost felt bad for the woman having to be around such childish stupidity.

As we exit and head out to the festivities, my sister being the one to break the silence between us, tells me "WOW were you ever comfortable in there." "What?!" I reply having no idea what she was talking about, she is the one who just tooted her arse off. "You know with all the tooting you did" she counters. "OMG I thought that was you" I offer. From there we dedicated some time in to making sure that neither of us was the tooting bandit.

Suddenly we both burst out laughing! It was hilarious and terrifying all at the same time. Here I thought I was poking fun at my little sis, and her I.....as it turns out we were just being mean school yard bullies to the scowling woman washing her hands.

Any hope for discretion (amongst tooting ladies friends and family) was thrown out the window, being that we were wearing our custom made shirts. Now that I think of it I kind of feel bad for our brother, here we were making a mockery of ourselves all the while wearing shirts with his name in big bold letters.

Oh well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him.....right?

Urinal Envy?

2009-05-09T06:00:00.000-07:00

This morning during a phone conversation with Melody, I mentioned The Friday Joker's Whistle While You Work post (*spoiler alert* click the link and read the post before moving on). After practically reading it to her myself and declaring it all things awesome, we had the following discussion:

Mel: I wish I could stand at a urinal and sing with a complete stranger!

Me: I KNOW *shakes fist in air*...pause... *light bulb on* We should totally get those cardboard thingies that Audra told us about, and try it out one day. Otherwise we would just be standing there wetting ourselves looking like complete idiots. *burst into laughter* Because our other option would be completely normal.

Mel: *laughing* OR...and this may sound crazy...BUT we could just pretend to pee and NOT wet ourselves at all.

Me: Oh yes...there is always that. *nods head appreciatively*

*hysterical laugher ensues*

We both, without speaking, seemed to have decided on not discussing the fact that it would appear odd for us to be standing at a urinal...let alone in the men's restroom. We'll just go ahead and cross that bridge when we get to it..I suppose.

Friday Flashback: Desperate Housewife

2009-05-08T10:30:00.000-07:00

I've decided to re-run an older post...hope you don't mind.

Desperate Housewife

Through out my roller coaster life of being a wife and mother I have found this title (Desperate Housewife) fitting. Then out came the show Desperate Housewives. I remember when I first heard of this show coming out. I thought "finally! *A drama-comedy that would depict the lives of real housewives." They will confirm my hidden thoughts that we are all exactly alike, although some of us are better masking our "challenging" lives more than others.

Showing to all the world, that although women in general are delicate (but a force to be reckoned with) creatures... throw in a household, husband and children we can be counted on for the call of duty. Clean the house, fix the dinners, stock up on supplies, and know the answer to whatever beckoning call from babe and man at any hours of the day. And then silently retreat into the darkened corners of our minds and scream out, that someday this will all be easier.

Not that the corners of our minds are so tightly contained. There are always the times that overload can occur, and with that a leakage in our containment field. We as women are already on a destined path to go through some sort of roller coaster as it is, thanks to gods given genetics and all. We are never fully prepared for the duty of wife and mother. But when given the opportunity I have only heard of few that opted out. Most of us relishing in the sweet rewards of such great honor, that is to be a Mother.

But when you have finally caught yourself praying that the baby doesn't know that you are trying to sneak into the bathroom, to pee in sweet (oh so golden sweet) silence in your fortress of freedom for all of 7.5 seconds, than you can pretty much count on that dip, featured on our lovely ride called life.

Having done that countless times today, and feeling the call from the darkness of my mind beckoning to me, to retreat to the soothing comfort of screaming my bolts loose. I found it fitting that after dinner, for Ant to take the boys to his dad's house while letting me get caught up on some dishes. He obliged, letting my nerves that the kids so diligently plucked away at, creating music of chaos through out my body, tune out like a pitch fork to a steady calm. And once again reminding me that communication is the key to the doorway of stability.

So as chaotic as my life is and will always be, there will always be that window open when the door is closed (wow I love cliches). Now with my dishes clean, I feel like I can take on the world...or maybe just the rest of the house. Picking up after my family, taking on the call of duty...maybe not so desperately this time. Well at least until the next time I am jonesing for a little alone time in the bathroom, that is. And that is truly sad.

*I honestly do not think the show is an accurate depiction of the life of a housewife...I just thought it would be. Silly dumb thoughts.

Head Over Heels

2009-05-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

I think I was ten, but I remember it was July. My sister's birthday and we were out of wrapping paper. Our Dad walked through the house and picked me to accompany him on the trip to the store. Our car wasn't working, as it hardly did in those days. So we headed out on bikes. Going through the streets of our neighborhood was relaxing and had a carefree feeling to it. The morning was still lingering keeping the air cool.

Once in the store, I struggled with keeping up with my dad, scurrying about....like a rabid animal keeping up with it's prey. His speed never faltered, you were either in or out...and you had BETTER be in. We picked up our needed items and headed back home, there was no time to waste.

The trip to the store must have invigorated him, as he was full speed ahead on our trip home. He'd zoom by me, calling out "I'm going to win" as he rode ahead in the distance...laughing. I'd pedal with all my might, as he would turn back and pedal on past me and zoom by once again...laughing at how I was no match for him.

At first I laughed, it's a crime if you can't laugh at yourself...right? But the more incessant his laughter became, the more belittled I felt. I couldn't keep up, no matter how strong my will was, his determination to have me lose was greater. And he wasn't above rubbing my nose in it.

After a couple of trips, of going the opposite direction to give me a "head start", he had decided to strap on some bells and whistles by taking humiliation to a whole new level. He had already started a song on my inability to keep up (I don't remember the words). Once again he came flying by, singing his song of contempt, twirling (yes...twirling) a couple of rolls of wrapping paper on his way by. Noting how he can twirl wrapping paper and still ride faster than me....as if seeing wasn't believing.

So there he was riding ahead, twirling that damn paper, fra la la la la-ing...when it happened. The front tire of his bike gave a wiggle, a wiggle that set his whole body into motion. He stopped twirling immediately and gave safeguard to his handlebars. The wiggle then wobbled, with quick wit and determination he gave his tire a swift kick to knock it's ass back into place...as this is how things were done. You'd be surprised what a little physical thrashing, tape and soda cans can do (more on that later).

What he had failed to factor in, was his choice of shoes that morning. Flip flops (or thongs for you thong wearers). As suddenly as I witnessed that first quick kick at the tire, he flipped completely before my eyes. Three full turns, heel over head, heel over head, flying and twirling through the air at full speed...hitting his head on the asphalt with every turn. My bike came to a stop as I watched him flipping and turning...the contents of our grocery bags being tossed aside like worthless victims. Finally his rolling and tumbling came to a rest.

He laid there like a massive lump of body and bike melded together as one. We had been going against traffic in the left lane, and he ended up as this deformed mass in the right. I ran up to him, and he told me "Don't let the cars hit me". Just a few feet up was a railroad crossing, the type you had to go up and over to pass through...anyone travelling this way would not see him until it was too late. I didn't want to leave him...I tried pulling him further to the right and off the street. He shoo'd me away, telling me to stop the cars dammit! I ran to the top of the tracks, waiting to stop any cars that came our way.

I turned back and watched him grab his bike with one hand, and pull his body with the other arm. Heaving away, grip pull, grip pull...slugging away with his deformity. I had never seen anything quite like it. In his delirium, he had decided safe haven was ALL the way on the left side of the street. So he inched himself in that direction...as if his mutation had been his life long quest to beat. Slowly people in houses came out and watched from their front yards, this sight of monstrous proportions.

A car had finally had worked it's way into my part of the situations "don't let a car hit him"...I stood firmly in the middle of the road on top of the railroad tracks as my dad, worked his way to his across the street. I flagged the car down, and told them about what had happened. They stopped and took on the job of flagging down the cars behind them. I raced to my dad...who had finally managed to get himself off the road and out of danger...where he then promptly passed out.

By then the onlookers had decided that maybe they could be of some help. Upon inspection, we had found that dad's foot had been sucked into his tire (kicking a moving wheel while wearing flip flops? not recommended), and was weaved in and out of the spokes. One guys was horribly concerned that my dad's back was burning from the hot asphalt, (as he was not wearing a shirt) and kept trying to lift my dad off the ground to spare the skin on his back, beckoning for someone to "please, get a blanket or something". A couple of other people, try and take lead in removing the tire from my dad's foot by gently pulling on it and saying "we don't want to ruin the tire". In and out of consciousness my dad would plead "fuck the tire...get it OFF!" Their slow gentle pulling gave just the right amount of pain to fully wake my dad. Where he then bent the spokes up, relieved his own foot and passed out yet again, muttering something along the lines of "fucking idiots" in the process.

A ambulance came and loaded him up. Leaving me, the bikes, and our groceries behind. What the fuck was I supposed to do now? I was in this total state of shock and bewilderment as to what had just taken place, all of it seemed liked it happened in a split second. A lady, had asked if I would like a ride home, I said "no"...after all you don't ride with strangers. And why did everyone just leave? What the hell was I supposed to do. She must have sensed my confusion, because she took matters into her own hands and started loading our things. I mindlessly hop in, and we head to our house.

When we pulled up, I remember our Mom being mad at me because I was with a stranger. I tried telling her what had happened, but she wouldn't hear a word. The lady who had taken me home spoke with her, telling her "your husband has been in an accident and was taken to the hospital...would you like a ride?" My mom, suddenly struck with panic and fear obliged and asked her to wait in the car while she grabbed a few things. She spun around in the living room trying to gather herself, when that light bulb went on and she knew exactly what she needed to do.

She made her bed.

p.s. Because he survived with minimal damage, this is one of the funniest things I have EVER witnessed....sorry dad.

Such is Life..

2009-04-30T06:47:00.000-07:00

The other morning I foolishly decided that when the coffee ran out, I would not buy more. Who knows what line of thought led to such an ill-conceived notion (okay I do, but it's too stupid to fess up to now).

I went the weekend without a single cup and right on through to Tuesday, not even missing it. Yes...I was right, no coffee needed here. Yesterday I woke up and started my routine for the day(minus the coffee making of course). When suddenly I felt this overwhelming urge to have a cup of coffee. Immediately my brain gave course to it's body and I found myself in front of the coffee machine..scanning about for any signs of it. Disappointment riddled my body and left me standing their twitching like a junkie. I became enraged with myself thinking; "why would I ever decide to not buy more coffee?!"

It's in moments like these that I can totally let life get away from me, and fall into a pit of want and despair. Yes, suddenly coffee seems that important to me. I turn my nose up at the machine that will brew me nothing, and tend to things of importance...waking the children. My mouth is relentless, watering away knowing it is doing without. I try pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth, in hopes of relieving it's desire. It fires back at me with a dry clack. Why did I not buy more coffee?

Austin wakes with a headache, and is doing everything at half pace. Wouldn't some coffee be nice now? I push, and push constantly reminding him of our everyday timeline..we leave late, and he will be late for school. Dreaming of you coffee. I turn into the back loop of the school, the bell has rung...but I am relying on his teacher taking a late role call as Austin says she tends to do. When suddenly Austin starts screaming in agonizing pain and follows it with sounds of upheaval. Damn the morning without coffee. He finally works up what his intentions allow. I turn and head back home, dialing the number to the school on the way.

Within minutes of being home, Austin is well and lively. I'd give anything to take him back to school, but they wouldn't allow it, as I made them aware of the releasing of his contents. COFFEE!! I decide enough is enough, and head us to town to get some groceries...top of the list? Coffee.

The kids are like wild animals, thrashing about in their shopping cart cage (Austin found one that has the two seats attached to the cart, you know the type..impossible to maneuver). I decide to ditch the huge shopping cart, and grab a normal one. Things become easier, and I am happy. Suddenly the store appears to be having a geriatric convention. Our fast pace stroll, turns to a slow torturous crawl. Mid way through the group of the elders, Austin loudly exclaims "why do people walk like this?" Turning his shoulders in, hunching his back, adverting his eyes to the ground and slowly dragging along. The murmurs of the elders grow silent, not looking to see my response but eagerly listening in. Hoping to put an end to his mimicking ways, I decide to not explain the hardships of growing old, but to say "why do you walk the way you do?" knowing that will shut him for the time being. "Because I walk NORMAL" he spouts back. I admit, being duped by a 9 year old does not feel good.

We made our way through, and was in a hygiene aisle, when I got a tingle in my nose. I end up sneezing, a kind lady on her way by, was offering a "bless you" when Austin stepped aside pointed his finger and said "she has the virus!". What the hell? When did my kid become SO freaking funny? I let out a chuckle and respond with a nervous "What?" "The swine flu" he says "I was making a joke". As it turns out the Swine Flu is the hot topic of the elementary play ground. I bet they have a sick little game, nominating one poor soul to be a Swine Flu carrier while the rest run for their lives....sounds fun actually.

Our time at the store, was long and treacherous. I beamed with joy at the checkout stand, knowing that I would soon be in the comforts of my car and headed home. Pulling up to the house never felt so good, I was ready and willing to put that time behind me. Walking in with bags in each arms, happy as can be, I spot the coffee machine and I know that I have failed. I forgot the damn coffee.

A Quick Disclaimer

2009-04-29T08:00:00.000-07:00

The other day Mo "Mad Dog" Stoneskin awarded me with this little gem:

And had some rather lovely things to say about my blog, that lead to a couple of new followers. While I highly enjoy having new people around, I feel it necessary to warn what could be future disappointment. Every now and then I am allotted a moment in time where my brain is fully functional to transfer humor from itself to my rapidly desperate and eager fingers; allowing me to post something of semi decency. Everything else appears to be fillers, quietly droning on about the mundanity of my simple life. With that said, please know that...you have been warned.

Every now and then I post a "New to me Blog" featuring a blog that is...well, new to me. I have been wanting to do this with Mo's blog. As it is full of wit and charm. Anyone missing out on this blog, is doing exactly that..missing out. So if you haven't already found him on your own, stop by as you will not regret doing so.

I also, would like to take a moment to direct you to a particular post that Mo had sent me to the other day. A hilarious rendition of Snow White as told by Girl Interrupted. It's a bit long, but any good story is.

So, as far as I know there are no rules to this award. Mo gave it to two people, so I too will hand it over to two people. I thought long and hard about this, as I have my sister Jessica who is new(ish) to blogging...and I adore her pictures and story telling..I mean my nieces and nephew are freaking cute. And? There is Audra my girlfriend from High School, with whom I shared countless memories with. But because I thought these would be obvious choices, I decided to pass the award on to two different gals...as Jessica and Audra both know my undying love for them.

So here it goes....drum roll please *rolling of drums sound here*

Bev who is an extraordinary writer, will have you rolling off your seat with her wickedly funny antics and arsenal of movie/song (all things pop culture) references.

Samsmama This little vixen will keep you on your toes with wonderfully written (and hilarious) posts on all things random, and everything surrounding it.

Screw it...I am going for one more and that is Steph, because I love me some Steph and well she is awesome...end.of.story.

Okay girls, do what you will with it.

A... You Had To Be There Moment

2009-04-25T12:58:00.000-07:00

The other day Mel and I did some shopping at WalMart together. We finished up our trip rather quickly and were headed out of the parking lot when the following happened. (Also I just want to mention, that practically all of the aisles/lanes in our WalMart parking lot are one way)

Mel was in the middle of telling me about a recent Stephenie Meyerism* that she witnessed the other day. When I happened to glance over and see a car wanting to turn, on to our (one way) aisle (are aisles in stores and lanes in parking lots? Or can they coexist in the two different realms of shopping mania?).

My hands immediately go into spastic waving mode, motioning that their way of entry was of the unnatural kind, for this particular lane. Instantly shattering the brick wall that is Melody and her one way discussion with my incessant Rain Man-esque rant of "no.no.no.no You are going the wrong way"

The lady completely oblivious to my warnings of guaranteed failure, gives me a filthy look; disgusted with my middle of the road vehicle (blocking her way of entry). While her teenage daughter glares disrespectfully, begging for a smack. Causing me to feel possessive over the very public aisle, as I spout: "this is not YOUR aisle, this is MY aisle". Motioning, with my hands, for her to go to the next one.

Her competitive nature shows as she glares at me smugly and ever so slightly accelerates her vehicle...as if she was calling my bluff. Mel catches on to the situation (after all she was in the middle of telling me a story) and says "She thinks you are wrong, she thinks this is her aisle". I naturally agree, and make some random comment about the lady's bitchy daughter.

When Mel, ever so eager to get to her punch line, says "Yeah she is just a slutty lying liar who lies"...I in turn laugh (not knowing exactly what she is talking about, but can see how it relates to the situation at hand) and add in my most narrative voice:

"Yeah, she is just a slutty lying liar who lies and drives the wrong way down a one way aisle....*pause* who also gets paid for sex" Because I am nothing if not exhaustive.

Mel: "Wait...do sluts get paid for sex? I thought they just did it for the attention and stuff"
Me: "Yeah...because their dad's didn't love them enough"
Mel: "Yeah, that's right. And? because prostitutes get paid for sex and sluts just sleep around.
Me: "oh yeah" *nodding thoughtfully*

************************PAUSE***************************************

Narrative me: "Yes...she is just a slutty lying liar who lies and drives the wrong way down a one way aisles, who sleeps around and not for monetary compensation but for the respect of her dad."

We then both squeal with laughter, wheezing away like a pair of old oxygen deprived fogies, awaiting tank switch out. Quietly lamenting over our future fiery brimstone, through burst of laughter.

*Stephenie Meyerism: An eagerness to share ones feeling and/or thoughts with others, while suffering from a limited vocabulary*. Leading to excessive repetition, redundant phrases and incredibly specific verbalisms. ~Mel Ex: "Edward. Edward. My life and his were twisted into a single strand. Cut one, and you cut both. If he were gone, I would not be able to live through that. If I were gone, he wouldn't live through it, either. And a world without Edward seemed completely pointless. Edward had to exist." ~ Bella

*No we don't believe that Stephenie Meyers suffers from a limited vocabulary...But I do.

Running Late

2009-04-24T06:13:00.000-07:00

Today Austin has an early morning Dental appointment...somebody please tell me why I would agree to go in at 8 in the morning? For the fun of it all?

Anyway...I'll be back this afternoon to check up on all the blogs I missed. And? To hopefully post something worth reading...cross your fingers people.

P.S. Does anyone remember the tune of the day? It's a cover...and not safe for work.

QotD: What's Your Favorite Book?

2009-04-23T11:00:00.000-07:00

That's right I am going all sorts of Cary up in here...well I am copying the crud out of him. *shrugs* What can I say, he knows how to get things done.

Anyway, I am in desperate need of a new book to read. My Mom, sent over The Bean Trees. Which is an okay book, but it is failing to keep my attention. So I need to move on...and here I am asking you awesomely lovely people, what's your favorite book?

It's the best way, I believe, to find something new and exciting to read. Plus? Perhaps I can learn a little something about you guys from your choice of book...

When Routine Goes Awry

2009-04-22T06:53:00.001-07:00

I like to wake up before my kids. It definitely makes waking up more pleasurable, being ahead of the game. I usually get up at 6 and wake Austin at 7 (to get ready for school). Ryder wakes on his own usually just after 7, but sometimes he'll push the clock and sleep till 8. I like this routine, it suits me.

Wake up, start coffee, start computer, drink coffee and read blogs/write post. Yes that is how I start my (kid free) morning...it's a shame, it truly is.

Last night Ryder woke up in a crying fit, his wailing calling to me through curtains of sleep, prying them open and letting the sun light in. I rolled over, and he was standing next to the bed. I reached out to touch him, and he pulled away "No!" he barked. I glanced over at the clock and it screamed 2:00 am at me. I turn my sight back to my screaming 2 y/o knowing that my one hour of alone time is not going to happen come 6:00.

"What's the matter sweetie, are you okay?" I say in my most pleasant motherly voice
Without taking breath Ryder continues to scream and wail, not wanting to be touched, but holding onto the edge of the bed. "Are you pooping?" I ask, knowing full well that he is...I mean who wants to be touched while pooping? He screams louder and runs to the foot of the bed.

I want to sleep, my head is running through all the things that he had eaten that day as I walk downstairs to get his sippy cup and a new diaper. I can't remember him eating anything that could cause such a ruckus in his bowels. I return to my room, where he is still crying...Ant is rolled over in a tight wrap of blankets trying very hard to appear to be sleeping. He has to work in the morning, and I feel bad for not having dragged Ryder out of the room (it would have been way worse if I did that).

Ryder is willing to let me change his diaper, whimpering through the process. Finally all cleaned up, I sit and rock him to sleep...suddenly feeling very awake, goodbye 6:00 I shall miss you in the morning. Somewhere on the way, I fell asleep and woke at 5:30, Ryder still fast asleep. I told myself "what luck, get up now...before it's too late", feeling tired I said "I still have 30 minutes".

5:52 Ryder is crying....I should have listened to myself. Hindsight...gets me every.single.time!

I spy

2009-04-21T06:12:00.000-07:00

Last week Austin and I had the opportunity to take his cousins to their bowling league practice. On the ride over to the lanes, the kids started up conversation on God in the back of the car. I believe it started off with something like "Did you know that God is everywhere?" (asked of Austin).

From that question on the kids went nuts pointing at every God containing object in sight. "Dude, God is in that tree" one would say, and everyone else would laugh in agreement. "No way, Look! God is in those rocks over there", "Hey, did you know God is in that building?, not inside the building but in the walls and stuff?"

On and on the kids went, laughing and pointing announcing God's being everywhere. Constantly trying to outdo each other, who can find God in the most obscenely boring manner. And of course the more they find God the louder they get, a part of me is wanting to tell them all to quiet down knowing that there is no end to finding God who is everywhere. The other part, loves this innocence and knows that it should be cherished...so I wait it out. We went over the railroad tracks, when someone announces "hey God is in the railroad tracks.....and we just ran over them....we ran over God" Everyone starts laughing hysterically and repeating "we did, we just ran over God!" Proof that they are all of my families blood line...what a great sense of humor they have.

At some point Austin announces that he doesn't understand why anyone has to die "we just go up to God, and he sends us back here anyways" Weird, I have never discussed reincarnation with him before. Kaelina adds in "yeah, and we can never remember who we were before. Because we're not suppose to" Suddenly the car grows silent, while the kids gather their thoughts. I could have spoke up, but I was interested in seeing where this part of the conversation would take them....and quite honestly, I don't believe they even remembered I was there.

"Oh no, I could come back and be an animal" Austin says. The kids start laughing and the "You could come back as" went to rolling, snowballing into a loud laughing mess, just like I Spy God Who Is Everywhere had just minutes before. I pipe in during a quiet moment, and ask "If you think you have been here before, what or who do you THINK you were?" The car quiets again, simultaneously the kids say "I don't know" and Austin adds on "But I KNOW I wasn't a girl!"
Kaelina scoffs and says "Yeah right" rolling her eyes at him. Everyone starts laughing and discussing all the things that they could have been before they were who they are now.

Kids are so easily amused. And? The love debate, I mean LOVE IT! I don't know who or what they were before, but I sure do love all that they are now. What a great bunch of kids, loud, but great.

Side Note: I do a tune of the day. And while writing this post that wretched song "If God was one of us" by Joan Osborne popped in my head (that's usually how I pick the song of the day, whatever jumps in there LOL) But I won't add it...because I despise it. And as my dear friend Audra would say "He was one of us, his name is Jesus, we crucified him."

Business Time

2009-04-20T14:12:00.000-07:00

I haven't been feeling very well lately...so I have been a little out of the loop with "blogging". I woke up today feeling a lot better, and I hope to catch up on everyone's blogs soon.

Sorry for the crappy post....

Life is a Peach

2009-04-17T07:25:00.000-07:00

Audra had her baby yesterday (at 12:25 to be exact). I was there when she had Hannah, and was in route (pregnant with Ryder) when Drew was born. But for sweet Olivia I am home, waiting to not be contagious. It's sad to not be there for them. While Audra waited impatiently for labor and/or induction I secretly wished it away for a couple of days...wanting to be able to be there. Pretty self centered...huh?

Olivia Grace, who is adorable by the way (Audra text'd me a picture...how sweet is that?), weighed in at 9lbs 6oz and is 20" in length. Audra reported that labor was relatively smooth, we joked how hard this pregnancy was compared to the other two, and how it was the easiest labor amongst the three.

Go ahead and send her a congrats on their new bundle of joy, I know she will love it.

This morning, I received a message from my older sister Beverly who is pregnant. (She miscarried towards the end of last year at 8 weeks, and is now 12 weeks) She wanted to let me know that the baby is the size of a peach. "A peach! how awesome is that?" she said on my machine. I love that message, I love that peach size baby. And I have a feeling, God grant me my memory, that I will call her baby Peach once he/she is here with us.

Let's Nuke the Bridge

2009-04-15T11:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes shit happens, and things become shitty. But shitty has a way of coming and going, allowing non-shitty things to occur. Because if there was no non-shitty we would be pretty unbalanced, so I guess if there was no shitty we would be as equally unbalanced...and we could end up suffering from an inability to see good were good sits. Therefore shit must happen?

IDK...I am over it.

You're on the Grid Mother Fucker

2009-04-10T07:06:00.000-07:00

The other night, I made chicken enchilada's for dinner. It's not a hard meal to make, nor is it really that time consuming. But it's not one of my favorite things to cook...but it's one of Ant's favorite things to eat. We had extra kids that night, totalling our tally to 7. So, I was an enchilada making fool.

Dinner time rolls around and all the kids sit at the table and start inhaling their dinner. All but Austin, he won't even touch it. The rest of the kids are eating and loving it, and he just sits and stares at it. The kids later began to tease him a little on what would happen if he didn't eat his dinner (as Ant told him he wasn't leaving the table until he was finished), which turned the table into Open Mic @ Comedy Central. The best being "You would end up at the hospital really sick, and once you started to feel better you would feel really hungry, the nurse will bring your food and when you lift the lid you would see this *pointing to his enchilada*" (by cutie pie Kaelina).

He never did eat his damn dinner. Ant wanted to save it and make him eat it for breakfast the next morning, that reminded me of when I was a kid and would have to eat the cold oatmeal that I didn't finish before school as an afternoon snack...So I tossed it.

Anyway...what is it with kids not eating the food prepared for them, it drives me mad.

After Lindsey posted this, my sister and I fell in love with Louis C.K. So the other day Mel sent me this clip and I cannot tell you how badly I relate to this:

The Hungry Store

2009-04-07T20:40:00.001-07:00

I was channel surfing yesterday and landed on a clip of MTV's Busted, (a reality TV show that depicts young adults (mostly students in college) getting arrested and penalized by police ~ Wikipedia). In the portion of the episode that I watched, a chick name Lindsey was spotted running down the street, the cop pulled along side her to see if everything was okay, when she replied that she was "just hungry" and that she was "going to get food". He discovered she was underage and drinking, and of course wrote her out a citation. This is what she had to say about that (sorry about the link, I didn't want to request the ability to embed).

Needless to say I laughed my ass off..... and? I love this chick!

You Can Never Go Home Again...

2009-04-07T06:00:00.000-07:00

I am sure you have all heard that expression before...right?

I was thinking about my 1691 post, well actually I was thinking about writing more on my childhood...and while there is a ton of material there, I am totally stumped on the way to go about it. Anyway, I was thinking about the post when that expression popped in my head. All the sudden it seemed to makes sense, not that I have ever put too much thought into it before.

But that, here I sit knowing I can never go home again. Realizing that place that held all of my childhood wishes and dreams no longer accommodates the likes of me. Sure I can go there, and chase shadows (so to speak...what's up Mel?) conjuring memories from a not so distant past. Relish in, for brief moments of time, the sweet glow of youth and being someones child. But there is no room for my reality there. I am too old, and have too much baggage for an indefinite return trip.

I look now and see the home my children help build here. The echoing laughter, tears, loving hugs and annoying habits. How their youth glows steady, and how contagious it can be, evoking forgotten memories and setting into stone new ones. And while I can never go back, it pleases me that it can be brought here.

ETA: Also on a totally unrelated note, I think, today's song has been stuck in my head for weeks...but just the chorus part (Come home, come home). And I couldn't figure out for the life of me who sang it and what it was called...I even had my sister trying to help me figure it out a couple of weeks ago, using only the lyrics come home, come home. I cannot tell you how frustrating that was for me...then yesterday I heard a clip of it with more lyrics and googled it up and FINALLY was relieved of the pain of not knowing. I felt like an idiot upon learning the artist...because DUH of course it is One Republic. Anyway, YAY...it was very exciting for me....VERY.

PoTD: Bailey

2009-04-05T06:00:00.000-07:00

Garrito wow'd us with his fine feline foto. So here I am doing the same damn thing. Bailey drools like novacaine injected, bell's palsy suffering Saint Bernard. Outside of her outstanding ability to slobber on anyone, she is also capable of leaving a full coat of hair as a keepsake...lucky you! Her eagerness to be touched crosses all lines of personal space...but one look at those green eyes and you fall in love. Isn't she just a darling?

We don't need that anyway...

2009-04-04T11:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday my younger sister (Jessica) had her appendix taken out. The night before, she started experiencing pain, and that morning it got worse. Thankfully Jessica's husband (Phil) was around, or she would probably have died. Out of sheer stubbornness, of not seeing a doctor. As none of us kids, from our family, are willing to grasp exactly when it is that imminent danger is afoot.

While waiting for surgery, they never once gave her any pain meds. That killed me knowing that she was suffering, while waiting to be fixed (so to speak). She handled it well though, and for the most part didn't appear to be suffering at all. Only people who know her, could notice that she was uncomfortable. While I was scared that she would have to have surgery, I was glad when they finally wheeled her off. Knowing that she was finally going to get some pain relief.

The Surgeon, said it was a "hot" appendix...meaning that it was very close to rupturing. I like that he used the word hot. To be honest, I am kind of in stalkerish love with the surgeon, as he was my surgeon just a few years back. So he could have said anything and I would have been all stupid girly giggle freak. Lame I know...but, he saved my life so a little gaganess is in the cards no matter what. Don't judge me.

The surgery was short and sweet, while recovery took up most of the time in between seeing her off, and rejoining her in her room. She was a little groggy after surgery, but still Rock Star all the way....owning that room, and making hospital gowns look trendy. Don't hate...she's just awesome like that.

She is getting released some time today....isn't medicine amazing these days?

Hypochondria...Is It Just Me Or....?

2009-04-03T06:00:00.000-07:00

First off let me tell you, that I am not a whiny wimpy woosie woo when I am sick. In fact I have been, quite literally, deathly ill before...and my husband hardly even noticed until I called him to let him know that I was being admitted to the ICU to undergo surgery.

With that being said, I will get on to the reason of this post. One night last month, I had a dream where I was lifting Ryder in the air and bouncing him around and shimmy shaking the giggles out of him. When I went to put him down, my right arm slid down my right breast, and there was a hard lump in it. When I woke up later that morning, the area in which I had felt the hard bump was aching. It weirded me out a little, but I eventually..let it slip into the "it's probably nothing" category in my brain. A couple of days later, I was at WalMart picking up rubber bands (for Audra's Diaper Cake that I was making), and as I was leaving the aisle I noticed the book "The Middle Place". I really liked the title and the book cover (yes I buy/read books based on their cover/title! If an Author wants his/her book to sale then should shell out a little dough to make it appealing to the eye of the reader IMO) so I snatched it and tossed it in the cart.

Well, as it turns out that book is a true story about a woman who learns that she has breast cancer! She had found a hard bump while bathing with her daughters. Meanwhile, that spot I had dreamed about has been feeling like an aching rotting pool of cancer. ..which of course, there is no bump.

Maybe I have psychic abilities, or maybe I am a little bit of a hypochondriac.

Okay, so sure.... maaaybe I thought I was dead for a good 10 (or so) minutes after watching the Sixth Sense, with my sisters for the first time. And maaaybe, after they tried to convince me that I was in fact not dead (through their burst of laughter), I still questioned their honesty. So, perhaps there was a full week where I would ask people that I was standing next to if they felt a chill in the air...."was it here before I showed up, or just now?!" That sort of thing happens all the time.....right?

Normal, not so normal, hypochondriac, paranoid...which one of these things am I?

Yes, definitely YES.

Girl's Night Out

2009-04-02T14:11:00.000-07:00

I am following Jessica O's lead, and posting a video today.

I have posted this before...but everybody loves a good re-run right?

Enjoy:

PotD: Walk on Water

2009-04-01T12:00:00.000-07:00

Austin's cousin Collin, jumping in for some summer fun!

Last year, my cat like reflexes helped me snag this photo. It wasn't until I got home and uploaded the photos did I realize, how great it looks.

No Fooling...I'm Narcissistic

2009-04-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

I had thought I would post the same thing that I posted on my birthday last year...but decided to copy and paste some of the post I did on Initiating the Countdown to my birthday instead (Yes, when it comes to my birthday...I am like a little kid, I honestly look forward to it every year. Plus it was one of the only "real holidays" we celebrated as kids).

Ahhh April 1st (some odd years ago), it was a truly magnificent day. A day in which the world was granted a supreme and gracious gift, one that would be honored and adored yearly. And with such honors and undeniable adoration it is hard to not get a big head.

Of all the birthdays in the world, I do believe mine is the best. How great it has been to me, every year on this day. To celebrate me, and to love me, and to gift me. Wouldn't it be grand to be me on my birthday? (Generally I wish everyday to be my birthday...so when it is yours I can pretty much guarantee I am an envious bitch)

This year I become one year older than last. A part of me was almost upset about this fact. I checked in the mirror, and my crows feet did not lengthen the part in my skin. I look about the same, and this pleases me (somewhat). So I decided that this one year that is to be added to my age, well...it does not matter.

My inner child, she is a young one. She plays in fields of flowers, she day dreams in a summer haze, she NEVER dreams in fat, and she can always see the good in the world. As long as she believes, than I cannot feel old...and I will pay no mind to those numeric digits added on to my being.

PotD: Beehive

2009-03-31T15:26:00.000-07:00

The other day a neighbor told us about a huge beehive nearby...well about a mile or so away.
So this morning after dropping Austin off at school, I decided to go in search of it...to snag a couple of pictures. Also? I have never seen a beehive in real life...so yeah this is a first.

This is not what I was expecting, I was thinking of something more along the lines of that beehive in My Girl. You know the one?

Where that kid with the glasses throws rocks at it, knocking it off the tree and pissing the bees of beyond repair...then later he goes in search for the girl's mood ring, and the bees remember his ass and kill him for fucking up their home...remember?

And then the girl's dad has to tell her that her friend died, and she goes to the funeral (in their house) and pleads with them to put his glasses on "he can't see without his glasses". *chokes on tears* Later she reads a very moving poem relating to her friend, and what he means to her...and then rides off on her bike with her new girlfriends. Remember?

So yeah...that beehive...that's what I was expecting.

Sidenote: My Girl was the first movie I had ever seen in a theatre without my parents....I bawled like a baby. Like out loud boo hooing, red spotty face, sniffle, gasping for air, please for the love of god don't let that boy die and make her deal with the emotions of losing a best friend, why o why is this happening bawling. It took about twenty minutes for the hiccupy crying to works it's way out. Yeah...it was pretty bad to say the least.

Community College Course of the Day....

2009-03-30T18:48:00.000-07:00

I was flipping through the Spring/Summer 2009 course schedule, when I ran across some really odd and funny classes. They are listed under Health & Recreation and Special Interest tabs mind you, but a little crazy nonetheless. Without further adieu, I bring you:

How To Prevent Falls As You Age

The most frightening experience for any senior is the moment you almost lose your balance. (really? when you "almost" lose your balance, not that hip replacement surgery? Not that aortic valve replacement with patent bilateral internal thoracic artery grafts?) Untold misery and millions of dollars in hospital bills can be prevented if you know how. Learn the theory behind how balance works (wait a minute...there are no solid facts on how balance works?) , and what to do to keep that skill agile as you age. Additional benefits to this program of fall prevention include an understanding of how the brain works. Using what you learn here, you will have new tools to improve memory and to take advantage of the newest neurology discoveries that demonstrated how we can continue the process of learning and growing indefinitely (how fucking wrong is that to use a word like "indefinitely" to an ever aging group of senior citizens...fucking scam artist!). Rediscover how much fun walking can be as you learn to avoid falls, and improve balance.

Don't you just love that sale pitch at the end? This class is a 1 day (3 hour) course, with a fee of $65 + an $8 material fee.

I don't know about any of you, but who could sit around and learn how to not fall for 3 fucking hours? And is it freaking possible to learn how to not fall....I can just imagine how this course would go:

* Rule 1: Always, always..and I cannot stress this enough..ALWAYS be aware of your surroundings. If you allow yourself to be aware, you might just spot that disheveled rug in the hall way and prevent a what? What would you prevent? A FALL *applauding* that's right good for you, already showing progress!

Rule 2: No matter what if you are feeling dizzy, please for the love of all things holy...sit and wait your dizzy spell out. And for you fainter's out there...be sure to call a friend, family member or...come on you guys you guess it, who else can you call? YES 911 *clapping hands meaningfully* good for you. Yes call any of those numbers to let someone know you are not feeling very well, and that you feel that there is potential risk to your health at the very moment. Now a good way to keep your phone handy, and I am just throwing this out there for you fainter's is to always, ALWAYS keep it in your pocket. *taps head* Use your head, stay on your game.

Rule 3: Now, if you are in a standing position and feel like your balance is being compromised I highly suggest you grab on to the nearest object that is of the sturdy nature. Once your hands have found a source of stability, your body will respond accordingly. Please, please remember to guide your hands to a source of stability.

Rule 4: This is a very important rule and or guideline to keep in memory. If you are unable to locate a source of stability during a moment of dizziness, your next best option is to flail your arms in winding circles...a flapping of the wings of sort. The erratic behavior of your arms will...I repeat WILL force your body to stabilize.

Rule 5: If for any reason whatsoever that the above guidelines do not help to cure your situation, during and extreme fit of dizziness aka EFOD...yes that's right EFOD the mother load of dizzy. I highly suggest you slowly lower your body to the ground, taking great caution to not hit your head, enabling a source of stability. While on the ground roll your body into a face down position, this will avert your eyes from the spinning walls...and give your hands the option to stabilize the rest of your body. I highly suggest you call a loved one when a EFOD episode has passed...not you fainter's though, you reach in your pocket and call someone as soon as you are safely on the ground.

Okay everybody that about wraps up the 5 rules to fall prevention...how 'bout you all go grab a bat, and we'll put these theories to a test.

* All of that sounded like it was in a hick military (ish) voice...like "stabilitay" in my head.

LMAO...maybe I should take the course!!!

Lesson of the Day: Mind your P's & Q's

2009-03-30T06:45:00.000-07:00

The other night we were all cozied up and watching the blessed glow of the television, when Ryder leaned in and asked me "momma where's my cup?". The last place that I remember seeing it was upstairs and Austin wasn't home (sleepover at Nana's) to go hunt it down (hey! he is the oldest, and sometimes being the oldest comes with great responsibilities like hunting down sippy cups). So I think (because I am really cozy and not wanting to get up) "self...just ignore it, it will go away".

But Ryder is persistent, and Ant owns all the rights to successful ignoring...so he is fucking immune to the wants of our little guy (who by the way happens to be sitting on the other side of him at that very moment). Ryder is getting anxious and starts demanding "get up mommy, get up....my sippy cuuuup!" Now I know that I am the one who will follow through with the mission 'locate and retrieve sippy cup'...but there was something missing amongst Ryder's little rants of want.

"What do you say Ryder?" I ask, waiting for that one little word that somehow gets me off my ass and puts me to work with glee. As if the simple utter of the word please, has the same affect as "lift off" hurling tens of thousands of lbs into worlds beyond. Now, as we all know sometimes when trying to talk to a kid during rant mode, things have to be repeated...I will spare you the amount of time it took for my question to register with Ryder.

After asking him to deliver his question with that magical word, Ryder ponders it for a moment and with a puzzled expression and long accentuated wording replies with "I SAAY *pause* Geeeet uPPPP"...I just about rolled off the couch laughing hysterically. After the last snort was delivered, I told him "NO, you say please". "Oh, okay...please" *rolls eyes*

The odd thing is, that Ryder is usually very polite..always with the please and thank you. I guess he just had a little lapse in judgement on that one.

PoTD: Motorcycle Fun

2009-03-27T19:37:00.000-07:00

Austin got his first motorcycle when he was 3....it had training wheels, how freaking cute is that?
I have never had any type of anxiety while watching Austin ride. He is overly cautious when it comes to his personal safety and comfort...although, he can play quite the devil's advocate with other children.This cautious and safety wielding personality trait of his, kind of annoys the shit out of Ant. Not that he wants Austin to hurt himself...just that he would like him to be a little more adventurous and step outside his little safety haven. IDK, Ant thinks he's got the next Ricky Carmichael on his hands or something.

(I love how he looks like he is jumping out of the picture...okay, okay I admit...I didn't snap the picture quick enough)

So this evening, I went out to get some photos of the boys doing their thing. Austin was pretty eager to have me get a "jump picture".

(After repeatedly telling him not to land on me, I laid down on the ground for this shot. He loved my faith in him, I loved that he didn't land on me)

Austin, like most kids, just needs an enormous amount of positive feedback...and after his ego is all puffy and full, he can give great results.

Blue Lagoon

2009-03-26T12:37:00.000-07:00

You all remember this movie...right? You know, two kids (cousins) and some dude end up ship wrecked on a deserted island...then the dude dies and the kids are left to fend for themselves, and learn the lessons of love, co-dependency and bodily fluids all on their own (well that's at least what I remember...I only seen it once)...remember?

One of the most defining moments from this movie (that will irk me through the rest of my living years), is the scene where Brooke Shields character is swimming in a stream (of sorts...lake? *shrugs*IDK), and all of the sudden she stops and looks at her hands and sees blood. At first she seems shocked by this, and then suddenly appears to be at peace with it and continues on. Like it's some sort of ordinary thing to be swimming around, and then to be suddenly bleeding to death.

I look over, and both my Mom and older sister have this "yeah that's about right" look on their faces...so I ask "Hey, why is she bleeding?"....my mom (shooting a look at my sister) replies "I don't know". How odd is that? She doesn't even seem to question the writer's motive for this scene...she has to be bleeding for a reason....right?

About twenty minutes later, it dawns on me...in a total *duh* type of moment. Of course! "she must've hit some sharp rocks, that tore up her legs pretty bad....huh mom?" "That's right" she says...leaving me there in smug, blissful ignorance....for quite some time actually!

It wasn't until years (too many in fact) later, in the middle of a nothing day...where out of the clear blue sky, I realized..."wait a fucking minute...streams don't generally have sharp rocks in them!"

5 Reasons Why I Could be a Good Candidate for Stockholm Syndrome

2009-03-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

1. I tend to agree with people, for the mere sake of agreeing. You know what I mean, that whole "let's agree to disagree, but you won't fucking do that, so now I am just going to agree, so that you will shut the fuck up" stance.

2. I have a middle of the road position on just about any and everything. Given the right amount of time, goodies and delivery of your opinion you could very well sway me in your direction for, just about as long as it would take someone else to do the same.

3. With the right amount of pressure over an extended period of time, you could actually convince me that something I had nothing to do with, was in fact, my fault. And I will have actual guilt, until I have been given enough time to realize "what the fuck, I wasn't even there".

4. I honestly believe that there is potential good in everyone. That right the fuck there is proof that, I am an idiot, and will just about believe anything.

5. And lastly, growing up my parents were pretty much on the tip of falling into the land of the crazies....and I still call them at least once a week.

Stockholm Syndrome: keeping families acquainted since the beginning of time.

ETA: WKUK Cult Vid

11 Years of Sarcasm....and Still a Fail

2009-03-24T19:35:00.000-07:00

I called Ant after leaving Austin's Dentist appointment to give him an update

Ant: "So how did it go?"

Me: "Well Austin has quite a few cavities, and needs to have a tooth extraction....and WOW you wouldn't believe how wonderful and great Ryder was during the entire length of time we were there...sure am glad he came along with us"

Ant: "Really? Wow, that's coo "

Me: (interrupting immediately after noticing my failed sarcastic remark did little to annoy him) "No not fucking really.."

1691

2009-03-22T14:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I just find myself there, staring at a shut door with a secret life hidden behind it. Other times I know I am headed there, and why I need to see it. Hoping for a change, a glimpse of what could be. Usually I go alone, as most of us do. Occasionally I drive through with a sibling, and we share thoughts on the appearance and how almost everything looks the same.

There is a bare spot in the front yard. It has been there for as long as I can remember. It drove our mom mad, every time she looked at it. I remember making mud there, and rubbing it on our bodies. One summer afternoon, we did just that and pretended to be Michael Jackson. Not knowing at the time that such a display, could be deemed a racist thing to do. But there we were nonetheless covered in drying mud, belting out the lyrics to MJ's greatest hits, living carelessly in a moment. I see that bare spot and I know hidden in all of it's ugliness is laughter, merriment and our mother's discontent all in one. And I wonder how it affects it's care takers now.

Small adjustments have been made; chain linked fencing runs down both side yards. Drawing exact lines and bordering neighbors property from it's own. A dull lifeless grey, covers the bright yellow that once contained our house. Various cars of makes and models fill the carport, driveway and sit at rest at the curb. All these changes, while being of the noticeable kind, are also subtle to it's likeness of our time there. Shut doors, covered windows and presence unseen.

Not that we spent 100% of our time locked indoors, banned from the light of day. But I would say, it would be of no exaggeration that more than 50% of our time there was spent indoors. For a multitude of reasons:

1.) Being grounded
2.) Rain
3-5.) More grounding
rest.) Our parents paranoia of the unforgiven world.

And while I'll say most of our crimes were not of the heinous nature, we were a brood of six children, of the cabin fevered variety.

Just the act of being outdoors, exploded our imaginations. And where technical exploits now reign rights over young minds everywhere, we were busy inventing games of our own...using every bit of our limited resources.

Once, after many failed attempts (on my part, horrible aim) at throwing rocks at passing cars. My older brother and sister had devised a plan involving tape from old warped cassettes. The plan was to wrap the tape around our front yard tree and run it across to the chain linked fence across the street. Over and over making it sturdy enough to stop a car dead in it's tracks.

After much anticipation, waiting to see this plan get some action, I started to wonder about the occupants of the car, and gave query to my brother. That's when he and my sister gave in, grotesque detail, the death and turmoil of what would happen to the unlucky bastard who would happen upon this well thought out and executed plan.

I (being a sucker of the biggest kind) wept loudly for the soon to be dearly departed. I knew at once that we had to tell them, we needed to warn every car coming our way. My brother, not impressed with my suddenly heroic stance on the situation, detained me and let me know what kind of ass kicking would be had, if I were to foil his afternoon of plotting. I was instantly restored to my position in the plan, giving up any thought of rescuing a few lives, under the consequence of getting my ass kicked otherwise. Unknowingly, joining the league of bleeding hearts, in wanting change but not at my own expense.

So there we waited, and every car that headed our way I watched it collide with our tape of death. Glass shattered, metal crunched and blood spilled. Cries of injustice escaped my eyes and wet my cheeks. Luckily for them, their destination lead them down the first street, mere seconds away from death and destruction. Giving me the ability to breath out a sigh of relief, while my siblings had to deal with the unfortunate angst of a plan not seen through.

Until finally a car headed for the third street made it's way into sight, and unknowingly putting our plan into motion. Eagerly my sibling leaned in waiting hungrily for results. I turned away unable to bare witness to a day gone wrong. When just like that *snaps fingers* the law of physics made it's presence known. Proving that a child's imagination is of no match to what is meant to be.

Where I had seen a plan spoiled for the greater good, I am sure my siblings basked in the glow of their victory in making me lose my shit....yet again. But that could, just be an after thought. Isn't it funny how SO much, can be reduced to an after thought?

Sometimes I wonder if the sound of distant laughter, crying or screams can be heard in those walls in an odd moment of silence. Sending goosebumps, of a living past, into it's current occupants. Grabbing hold their attention in weak moments; possessing them. As it does me, bringing me here....in search of something....

PotD: Stop and Smell the Roses

2009-03-19T16:35:00.000-07:00

Or...whatever flower that is available to you. That's right be an equal opportunity sniffer...you'll be a better person for it.

United States of Harmony; GMB

2009-03-10T09:18:00.000-07:00

Click image for source.

Today we will learn a little bit about GMB; Greasy McLard Butt. I have posted about her on my "fat" blog (that I have been neglecting pretty badly...but will get back to it at some point in my life), and because I have posted on her there...this will be pretty much a copy and paste job.

GMB, has been a part of my life since the pregnancy of my first child. Well that is when she has made her presence known....who know's how long that bitch waited in the deep dark corners of my mind. Waiting for that right moment, that would make her most effective. And while most of the characters like her, do not take control over my body. I have to admit, she sure did a number on me.

Who is Greasy McLard Butt? So glad you asked. She is a big fat bitch, and relentless...I tell ya! She is my little devil whisper in the canal of my ear. A liar, the biggest of them all...convincing, manipulative and whimsical all in one. She is the reason, that I cheat when I diet and the one who comforts me when I fail.

Always with the(s), there is always tomorrow, or one more wouldn't hurt...no one will ever know. It's sick I tell ya and every time I try to write her off, she gets all offended like she was just trying to keep me happy, because she knows what makes me happy. And then I cave, because some sick self hating part of me wants it...so bad.

Here is an arguement I had with GMB regarding brownies, that I posted on over at the "fat" blog....luckily I won this argument and no brownies were to be had that day. However, I have lost many a battles with this chick....

Greasy McLard Butt wants brownies now:

Step 1. Make the brownies

Step 2. Eat the brownies

Step 3. Destroy the evidence

Me: No! I am trying to be good

GMB: Oh come on, one bad day...it's not the end of the world. Have a brownie with some coffee....doesn't that sound good.

Me: Well, uh...yeah that does sound pretty interesting. Kind of like a seperated Mocha, all warm and sweet and Wait! No! No Brownies!

GMB: I can't believe you are not gonna eat it, when you know you really want to...nobody has to know, it can be our secret.

ME: Our secret? How can it be our secret, I am a blabba mouth and everyone knows about the box of brownie mix in the cupboard...there is no secret to keep. *sigh*

GMB: Well I know how to fix that...

ME: What? How?

GMB: You can tell everyone in a moment of passion for extreme healthy living that you tore open the box and bag inside and emptied it's chocolately goodness all over the trash, making it untouchable for the human mouth and destroying it all together in your eyes. Add in a little "ENDORPHINES WHOO!" and you are set to go.

ME: Hey that is kind of a good idea...no one would know, this could so totally work. We could so have our brownies and coffee now...good job GMB, I am looking forward to it now.*waiting for the coast to clear*

GMB: Uh, yeah...hello there, where are those brownies? (such an impatient bitch)

ME: Gawd..give it a rest, I think I don't want to do it anymore....I don't want to lie to everyone.

GMB: Stop be such a pansy and get the chocolate

ME: What? Fuck off...GAWD you are such a bitch...... Oh and we are not eating the brownies now....fucking cow!

How about you guys...got anyone like this, swirling around in your head? Helping you think of all the good reasons to eat some brownies guilt free....playing the role of devil's advocate? Come you guys share....it's fun! Or, it can be.

United States of Tara

2009-03-06T07:23:00.000-08:00

The United States of Tara premiered Jan 18th, and airs Sunday nights on Showtime @ 8:00 (Dish Network)...and happens to be one of my fav.or.ite shows, love it! It's a comedy/drama, written by Diablo Cody (of Juno fame), about Tara (Toni Collette who is awesome by the way), a married mother of two who suffers from "dissociative placement disorder"(multiple personalities).

After years of using prescription drugs to hinder the "alternates" ability to surface, Tara and her family realize that type of therapy is not working, in helping her discover why the alternates are there in the first place. With that Tara decides to go off the meds, letting the alternates surface in hopes of figuring out why she seems to need them.

Stress seems to be the main factor in having an alternate appear...the thing is, you never know who is going to surface.

Meet Alice, Alice is the stereotypical 50's housewife. Always looking good for her man, and having meals ready for her family. She is completely disgusted with Tara's way of raising her kids (as none of the alternates seem to feel that the children are theirs), and knows above all else that she is the perfect woman for housekeeping and child rearing. She wears a specific shade of red lipstick, and in general appears to be "the perfect wife type"...a little OCD maybe...but that fits in with the perfectness that is her way of life, I suppose.

This is Buck. Buck is the masculine side of the group. He smokes like a chimney, drinks whisky, and loves him some porn. He hits on anything with tits, and curses the land bomb that took his penis in Vietnam. Mess with him, or anyone that he cares about and he will "fuck you sideways".

"T" is the average G string wearing, High School slut. She it that wild child, hormone fueled teenager that is always on the look out for a good time. Ready and willing to do anything that parental figures would deem un.lady.like. She is completely outgoing and will not be held back. And is quite the devils advocate to Tara's own teenage daughter...LYLAS all the way (well almost).

There has been a brief appearance of what seems to be a new alternate, called "Gimme" (I think?) aka "weird poncho goblin". This childlike creature was caught hovering over Tara's sleeping dad, peeing on him. So we will see, how it fits into the lives of Tara and her alternates.

Okay, so now on to the reason for this post. I love this show, for it's humor, but also for relatability (I know it's not a word, but it fits for me) reasons. Not that I have a group of alternates that take control over my body, but that I do have different characteristics that shine under different circumstances. And while watching this show, I have taken great interest in deciphering who is who, and yes...naming them. I know...a little crazy. But honestly we all have different qualities and personalities that are not always ON at all times....so let's have some fun with it, shall we?

So my next couple of post, will be of me diving into my different "personalities" and giving you guys a brief introduction. What do you think....good idea, or totally lame?

It's Happening Again; Damn those Cute Spring Dresses

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

An old post revisited.....

I Don't Want a Girl

No matter what, if I am in a department store I am looking at all the pink girly things that there is to have. I love them. I fantasize about my baby girl, in her cute little summer dress with golden curly locks draped down to her waist. Full of bounce with every step. Her eyes and smile will light up the darkened and wrinkled skin on my face and envelope our family with love and peace.

We would take turns combing each other's hair while singing to our hearts content. We will have tea parties, and pick flowers in the field, while wearing sundresses on warm and sunny days.And with her presence alone she would soften the edges on the boys, and give them warmth that one could only have with being a "big brother" to a baby sister. Their hearts will puff full of pride, knowing that they are who she will count on for protection. And when she messes with them, they will love her even more for it.

But I can't have a girl. I wouldn't know the first thing about being a mother of a daughter. I suppress my wants with the knowledge that I am not mentally prepared to have her. And while I am defiant and shout it out, "I do not want a girl", something inside me yearns for her even more.

My remedy to this, was to ask Ant if he wanted more children. He said "I don't know, maybe a girl". I already knew the answer, but I love it when he says it out loud to me. A girl...I want a girl.

Twitter...are you addicted?

2009-03-02T12:26:00.000-08:00

While I am not completely enveloped in the Twitter Mania, I do see the potential of Twitter Addiction. While nosing around in Twitter land I came across this dude, who has a shit ton of followers, and is following a shit ton of Twittererers (it could be a word!). IDK...he could be a classic role model for Twitter Addiction.. To be honest I am not that far into to Twittering to know, for sure.

Anyway, I noticed his blog link, and took an Internet express ride over to his place in the Blogoshpere (is that what it is still called?)....which is were I found this little gem regarding Twitter Anonymous, this post of his cracked me up. And? I am pretty sure you would get a chuckle out of it too, regardless of whether or not you are a Twitter junkie. Because odds are, you know somebody who is. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

PoTD: Fig Tree

2009-03-02T07:46:00.000-08:00

PotD: I Couldn't Pick a Favorite....

2009-02-28T08:26:00.000-08:00

Okay, that's a lie...the one in the middle is my favorite. But I thought the other two were cute too.

I love the way he is standing in this one
His expression kills me, in this one

And well...this one is cute too!

Which one is your favorite?

Lucy I'm Home...

2009-02-25T16:36:00.000-08:00

(Click image for source)

On nights that we don't eat out, and Ant is working, I like to have dinner ready upon his arrival. I don't know, it must be the Alice in me. Because, oddly enough, when I do do this, I get a feeling of fulfillment. Okay, now don't go and get femi-nazi on me...it isn't the worst thing in the world to do nice things for your husband. With that said, I must tell you, that without fail on these nights...Ant is never "ready" to eat.

Ant will get home, see that his is plate ready and at the table (thankfully he refrains from asking "what's for dinner?"), and heads straight to the living room. While I am messing with the kids to just sit and eat, I assume he is taking off his shoes and getting ready to head back. After 5 minutes or so, I go to check on him, to find him boobing on the tv. So I remind him "dinner is ready", and he replies "okaaay". I head back to the kitchen to make sure Ryder isn't spitting his food everywhere, while Austin's laughing his ass off encouraging such behavior. 5 minutes later, I head straight to the Living Room...Ant is gone, no doubt he is in the bathroom, ready to spend an obscenely amount of time in there taking care of business. Therefore, Ant has yet AGAIN damned himself to a cold meal.

So I of course get pissed, I mean after all, I was doing something nice for him. Also? Ant works all sorts of hours so, dinner revolving around his time schedule means that we never eat at the same time every night. He doesn't ask for dinner to be ready when he gets home, so in all reality it is my own stupidity that gets me all flustered to begin with.

So last night, I decided to start dinner later. So when he got home, he could do the television boob thing and toilet visit, all while I am cooking dinner. I am SO excited by this, all through my meal making I just know this is the greatest idea ever! Ant, gets home as my roasted garlic is ready to come out of the oven. The potatoes are on the stove boiling, steaks are out getting to room temperature, and bread rolls are rising and ready to be thrown in the oven. Ant looks at me, "what's for dinner?"...I cringe and let him know, he heads to the living room. See? You see how wonderful it is? I know, I know...goose bumps...right?

Dinner is ready, and I head to the living room to tell Ant, he is still in boob mode and says "okaaay". 5 minutes later, I remind him dinner is ready....well you know the rest. What's up with that? I guess he really likes routine, or maybe he just does it to piss me off...I don't know. To be fair, he was extremely tired yesterday, as he left for work at 2 in the morning and didn't get home till 5:30/6(ish). So I didn't bite his head off or anything.

What's the point here? To be honest, I don't think that I have one. What do you think, I should do? Have dinner ready upon his arrival, have it cooking when he gets home, or have dinner ready at the same time every night and let him suffer a cold meal (from my timing rather than his)?

PotD: Carrots

2009-02-25T11:17:00.000-08:00

Nothing special...just a group of carrots hanging out, doing their thing...growing.

The Hole

2009-02-23T07:22:00.000-08:00

Our house is pretty big, the reason for this are the ad ons/remodeling that were done to it. One of those ad ons is "The Hole" This room, I have been told, used to be a carport. The previous owners used it as their main entertainment room, meaning...that is where they kept the television.
When we moved in, this room was a couple different shades of orange and covered with dog hair, cat hair...and mud! Ant was SO disgusted with this room that he kept referring to it as a shit hole...from that my sisters and I coined the name The Hole. We moved in the same week of Thanksgiving...we were also having my families festivities at our new house. My sisters (Jessica and Mel) came over and help me roll on some paint, the night before Thanksgiving. (I still have to go in and touch it up)

Basically the hole is a quiet room, one where kids are not allowed. The Hole is a "mommy room."

Yesterday, I spent a great deal of time trying to clean the hole. It is by far the dustiest room in the house. And the deep grout on the floor makes it a pain in the ass to clean. I had a couple of failed attempts at cleaning this area yesterday, that ended with a cloud of dust that took nearly 2 hours to settle. I was pretty broke down and on the verge of crying (I know what a wimp!)...but I gathered my wits and persevered!
This morning after being up a while, I meandered into The Hole to take in a fresh eye of the work I had done yesterday. Only to find, that the dogs had somehow got into the house dragged trash all over the hole, and wiped mud and mashed potatoes all over the seat cushion of the couch.

I found 6 (6!!!!) corn on the cobs buried into the couch, and a chewed up diaper under the coffee table. Now, did I freak out? Hell to the Yes I did. Outside of the room being a complete freaking mess, there were no other clues that the dogs had been inside. Every door was shut, there was obviously a cover up. A really, really, really bad cover up. I called Ant, and busted into tears when telling him about what I had found. (pathetic..I know)

There wasn't much he could say, although he did try (so nice of him). I got of the phone and started cleaning the mess (in fact these pictures were taken after I cleaned up the dog mess). Later Ant called and told me, that his Dad said when he left this morning the dogs were in the house...and the front door was open. He cleaned up what he could and left.

Mystery solved! That front door is a pain in the ass, you have to double check it to make sure it closed all of the way. Being that we have lived here for 3 months now, you would think that everyone would be sure to do that....right? Well I guess not. Maybe I should just keep that door locked and make people come in at the other end of the house.....what do you think?

Straight Outta Compton..

2009-02-22T13:29:00.000-08:00

I am lovin this:

...and if I have to explain why, you wouldn't get it anyways...

PoTD: Cherry Blossoms

2009-02-22T09:31:00.000-08:00

We had a week or so of warm weather, and our trees could not take it anymore. All the love from the sun caused them to bud and blossom with gratitude, calling on to the bees, to get busy with spring. Unfortunately as the buzzing of life started to unfold into a rhythmic melody, we were hit with rain, and the rain has stayed! Driving away the bees, leaving our little cherry blossoms to be the only sign that the sun was ever out and gracing our land.

On a side note, I noticed this really cool widget over at Christo's page. It is some sort of link generator that "links related stories from your archives to each story on your blog", called LinkWithin. It seems to only work with post that have pictures, but is nonetheless ultra cool, and super easy to set up!

Our House (a Reply to Tash)

2009-02-21T08:23:00.000-08:00

Tash, in a previous comment said "I wanna know what is up with the move and some more tidbits about your land and what you do on it."

First, I will whine about moving...I hate and despise moving, and I never EVER want to do it again. My sister (Mel) has been coming over and making (Yes MAKING, as I would rather play games, watch ABDC, stare out the windows and or pretend I am having seizures then unpack) me unpack my boxes, I am SO over unpacking! It's good that she is so motivated with my moving in, otherwise we would have a room full of unpacked boxes still. As of now, I have 3 rooms in need of paint (our office, and 2 spare bedrooms)...and I am still thinking I need shelves (LOTS OF THEM).

(View of the back of the house, pasture and solar panels)

Now on to our land....so far it is a wet swampy marsh, that we have not put to use yet. We have talked about getting a couple of farm animals; goats, chickens and pigs...but I would SO love a cow...I just honestly think they are the cutest things ever! I wouldn't want to eat our cow though...I would want it to be our pet, but we could get a 2nd one to eat, I think I would be a horrible farmer...as I would love my animals and name them and want to take pictures of them in a field of mustard.

Speaking of Mustard, I would like our pasture to be filled with mustard it is so pretty. It is basically a weed, so it should grow with little effort on my behalf...and that makes it even more interesting.

The front of our house make me sad and depressed. Ant tore out all the beautiful plants and trees that once inhabited that area of the property, so now we have mud and mud. It's hard for me to feel like there wasn't a great injustice that occurred there...it seriously depresses me. Whatever, that's why there are no pics from the front of the house.

Somewhere out in the pasture Ant plans to build a track for him and the boys to ride their dirt bikes on. Austin can hardly wait for this to happen. Currently we have a couple of jumps over by the pond, but all of the rain has made it impossible to work on any further.

I basically have no idea what we will actually do with our land, Ant gets an idea and goes with it...leaving me entirely out of any planning. *shrugs* I can't be heard, and I am done with trying (in regards to planning)...SO, I guess I am just gonna take what I can get! (I think there is silver lining in there somewhere LOL).

This old tire swing was here when we moved in (well lots of stuff was, more on that in another post) and Cooper just loves to pull and tug on it. I had been wanting to get out to snap some pictures of the swing in the rain, the colors looked so rich...it's not exactly what I had hoped to capture...but I am still liking this shot, so I added it in.

PotD: The Chores

2009-02-15T10:35:00.000-08:00

Here is one of our tractors...it doesn't look like much but it does a lot of work. Just recently it, evenly spread out rock throughout (most) of our driveway. The rain keeps on coming...making puddles and lots of mud!

Saturday Recap; Valentine Edition...

2009-02-14T23:06:00.000-08:00

Today was a pretty good day...if I do say so myself. Ant and Austin got up early and headed to the hills, to get in some snowmobiling on all the fresh powder, that a current storm is bringing in. My sister (Mel) and her kids came by, where tons o' fun ensued.

We watched chick flicks and ate all sorts of baked goods, frozen goods and left over cooked goods...ummm it was good? We took movie breaks to talk about lame shit, good shit, funny shit....ummm we shot the shit? I also tried to danced this bitch up with a back spin...but hurt myself...don't worry y'all I'll tear that down one day. In short..it was a blast and I am glad to have had such a great day...THANKS ANT....THANKS MEL...THANKS VINCE!

Ant is staying out of town tonight...it's kind of my first night all alone in this house. Well the first time was last week when Ant went to Vegas...but I had both kids and somehow felt safer (how sad is that?). Now it is just Ryder and myself and I definitely feel alone. I have checked all the doors and windows...all locked. I even locked the door that divides the two ends of the house...and I will lock my bedroom door...and pray that I don't have to get up in the middle of the night to piddle (yeah that's right piddle!). I am the biggest chicken ever! But keep in mind that we are still fairly new to this house....almost 3 months now...but it is huge and in the middle of nowhere.

Ant will get home sometime tomorrow night...and we will have a house full of kids (I am SO excited!!!) My nieces and nephews are coming over for a sleep over...I think we are going to make cookies!

Hope you all had as great of a day, as I did....love ya!

Valentine's Day '09

2009-02-14T08:31:00.000-08:00

Here is a little copy and paste from our local newspaper:

Does love prevail over economic crisis? Some local business owners seem to think so. Their sales of flowers, cards, candy and other Cupid-esque items are on par with or better than Valentine's Days past. Whether single or attached, residents are spreading the love to local businesses by opening up their wallets. ~ Wow doesn't that make your heart go pitter patter? Don't your eyes want to well up in knowing that there is so much "love" to be had?

There is no sense in beating a dead horse. But sometimes I think Valentine's Day is for the young and naive....

When I was 15, Patty Smyth's duet was a hit and all over the radio...I was raised to believe that Love was the strongest force in this world, and that it could conquer all, as long as we believed it could....so you can understand how confused I was by these lyrics. I remember feeling so tormented over it, how could it not be enough for them? After contemplating this odd theory for hours on end, I finally gave in and asked my Mom about it. After a big sigh she told me, that "it's true sometimes love isn't enough...there is so much more to it." What the hell was she talking about? Love is love...and will always be love, and where love is placed it cannot be taken....what more can there be? To say she shocked me is a complete understatement...I was totally blown away by her response, and more so by the look in her eyes. But I was young, and it was years later that I finally came to understand what she was trying to tell me.

How sad it can be when the novelty of love wears off...not for all of time mind you, as love has a way of coming and going throughout our lives. In small gestures...in our children, in the smiles of strangers...even in the way our pets greet us...these are things that keep it alive. That can nourish one during the hard times...small reminders of what there is to live for.

And while simply loving someone, can never be enough...it certainly makes life more pleasant. Youth, naivety....can be such a wonderful place to be...

PotD: Orange you glad I didn't say Banana?

2009-02-13T13:57:00.000-08:00

That's right I am jumping aboard the bandwagon..not so much joining ranks with Steph, MoFM...and SoCal..but copying what they are doing....

It's been raining here, finally making winter seem like winter. But our bright little orange tree begs to differ...with it's little glowing orbs of summer delight.

I Forgot to Tell You...

2009-02-11T19:47:00.000-08:00

The name we picked for our Christmas Puppy.....

(Isn't he the cuddliest?!?!)

We decided to go with Cooper. His official name being; Sir Cooperton the 453rd...He was originally Sir Cooperton the 1st...but we had to spice shit up.

Cookie Crisps

2009-02-05T15:29:00.000-08:00

I just found this post in my unpublished folder...it must have been published at one time, as it has been commented. Oh well...here it is again.

Having been #3 amongst 6 children, meant that we were not accustomed to name brand merchandise, food...and pretty much anything else you can think of. Six days a week we had (bin barrel) oatmeal for breakfast and sometimes dinner.

Because of this overused products, I can barely stomach anything involving oats. My dad being the prankster he was, making light of any and everything, use to poke fun at us by teasing us that there was mice feet in with our oatmeal. From that day on, god help me, I could see those little mouse toes mixed in with my oats, awaiting a trip into my mouth and down my intestinal tract.

Sunday through Friday, every morning was set to plan some clever way to dispose of the oatmeal, without having to swallowing one mice feet filled bite. But Saturday, oh so sweet Saturday, we followed our Sabbath traditions and were allotted cold cereal in the morning. I didn't care at all that the name brand stuff didn't fill our cupboards. I wasn't bothered by the fact that half the time, it wasn't sweetened and we had to add our own sugar. And I didn't mind not being able to fish out the "toy" inside the name brand boxes (we would have all fought over it anyway). I was content with our "affordable" cereal and started looking forward to it at the beginning of every week.

Now sometimes our Dad, would by some name brand cereal for himself, being the head of the household and all, we all thought this appropriate. Well that, and we were told to get over it. It never dawned on me to ask for his food, or try to sneak it. Hell hath no furry like a man shorted his food.

One day, after a long day of shopping our parents had came home with Cookie Crisps. I remembered the cartoon dog needing his Cookie Crisps, and I thought I had just died and went to heaven. Who would have ever thought of cookies in a bowl? It could have been the most important food ever made for the human race. As they were unloaded, we were told that they were our Dad's and to stay away from them. Boy was I bummed...slowly watching my cookies for breakfast dream go from bag to cupboard, knowing that there was no hope in ever enjoying the chocolatey goodness.

The following Saturday, we did our ritual of waking up and fighting over what we are gonna watch on the tv. While our parents tried to enjoy some alone time, behind their closed bedroom door. We taunted them with a thousand and one questions (can we do this? and so and so wants that?) that had finally led up to "what kind of cereal can we have to eat?". By this time they are annoyed, and tell us to eat whatever we want...it does not matter!!!!

Anything? we beckon, already tasting the Cookie Crisps before a response was made. In which they replied ANYTHING! In their leave us alone voice.

A skip and a hop away and we were all dying to eat some Cookie Crisps. I couldn't imagine anything better, than having cookies for breakfast. Just thinking about it set my mouth to a tight smile, eagerly awaiting my turn to pour my bowl of the ever coveted cereal.

No sooner than getting our mouths full of such a delectable breakfast, did our Dad put together what was happening out in the kitchen. He shouted a warning call for the neighborhood to hear "You better NOT be eating my Cookie Crisps".

*Chokes on cereal*

I wanted to die, there we were eating his Cookie Crisps! We checked, the box more than half empty. Tears started filling our eyes, we knew we were in for it good. We knew they weren't ours, and we tried to eat them anyways.

My brother being the oldest, and of course the wisest, quickly thought of our salvation out of such a horrible predicament. He ordered us all to drink our milk out of our bowls (even in crisis we couldn't waste). He and my older sister quickly gathered all of our milk soaked Cookie Crisp and gently laid them out on a cookie sheet. Hiding it until our parents left, to run their Saturday errands.

As soon as they were gone, into the oven they went. Baked until every drop of milk dried out. We then returned them to their box, to await consumption by our father. I don't remember ever seeing him eat those Cookie Crisp...I am sure if he had grabbed the box in my presence I probably bolted out of the room. I've always wondered if his first experience with that cereal was an awful one (I mean...I am sure the were stale as could be), because that was the only time I ever seen Cookie Crisps enter our house...and it was the first and last time I ever had a bite of them.

Because I said so...

2009-02-05T09:35:00.000-08:00

Have you guys seen this movie? It's a total chick flick...that I totally want to deny liking..but I freaking do. The soundtrack is awesome...I don't own it or anything, but they had a great selection of music for this movie.

Anyway...there is a line in the movie, where the daughter (Millie) is arguing with the guy that she decides is not right for her (I agree with her choice) and she says:

"And excuse me but truth be told I didn't like anything that you ordered for me on our first date except the calamari. And ok fine, yes, it was nice to not have to think for a change. But who wants someone that doesn't think? And sometimes you laugh when I cry, and you say "ha" when I make perfect sense. "

The last portion of that really hit home with me. For whatever reasons during my long drive, after coming home from my weekend away, those last lines popped into my head. It kills me that after 11 years of being with Ant, he can't want to know how I work. Who I am or understand what it is that I am saying. Reflecting shows a lot of days/nights with little to no talking...a comfortable silence I told myself...so why is it so freaking uncomfortable?

Talking is a direct result of "nagging"...what lies deep in Ant's mind has been long locked up, or there is nothing unfamiliar there at all. And if that is the case, why do I feel so undiscovered? Is it in my female genes to always want more...or is there a case in fact to all the loneliness I sometimes feel?

I don't know...maybe he feels he knows me well enough. I just wonder who that person is, that he feels so comfortable to be around and not talk to.... And did she cross over to the rest of the people I know. Hmmm....

I Want to Run like the Lions, Released from the Cages.. (j.b.)

2009-02-03T17:27:00.000-08:00

So, I am back from my little mini trip away from the family...I had a very relaxing time and enjoyed myself. However I feel like my little relaxing weekend away has left me wanting more.

Upon arriving home, I got the sweetest welcoming hug and kisses from Ryder. He definitely pulled through in making me feel missed and loved (Austin was at his Grandmother's house). Ant did his usual; stay on task, ignore the fact that his wife just pulled up routine. After unpacking I made my way over to him, and showed him the beads we had made at the cabin and started to describe some of the things we had done (he would never ask). He said yeah a lot and seemed genuinely disinterested (no surprise there), I gave up and went inside. Twenty minutes later he ask "what's for dinner?"....the only question I have heard from this man in the past 4 years or so. I cannot tell you how infuriating it is to hear him ask that.

It was 2:30 in the afternoon...so I respond with "are you kidding?" He gets offended and asks why I am so pissed..blah blah blah. Everything normal on the home front. Ryder and I decided to take a drive...we left and I just watched the road go under the tires...for about an hour. Then I decided to turn back around and head home.

But it hit me...I need a road trip..with no schedules. Get in the car and drive and see where it takes me. Stop and go as I please. Discover new towns and quaint restaurants along the way. I don't know, maybe I am just being selfish now....

An Austin Discovery....

2009-02-02T19:05:00.000-08:00

While coming down the stairs yesterday, Austin called up to me and said "mom you gotta see what this movie is called". I look down and see him fumbling with the remote trying to hit the info button....then look over and see Dr. Evil and Mini Me paying tribute to Will Smith.

I giggle, thinking of how cute it is for him to be excited in seeing his name in the movie title, and interrupt his fumbling to let him know that I was aware of what it is called. He quickly manages to hit info and then announces upon seeing the title as proof: "It's called Austin Powers!" He then looked back at me with total enlightenment and says "Well no wonder everyone keeps calling me that!"

I just about died and rolled down the stairs...my first thought was to bombard him with questions of who? Who calls you that? But he definitely cannot stand to go through a series of questions, and can become quite troublesome when one is trying to get any type of info from him. Beside I thought I would give him a break....he was about to find out what Austin Power's looks like *shudder*.........He shouldn't worry though, he looks nothing like him.

Weekend get away...

2009-01-29T19:52:00.001-08:00

This weekend Ant's Aunts are having a girl's (no kids) get away retreat (whew...that is a mouthful).....and I have been invited. I am really excited to go and hang out with all the ladies...and take part in all of the activities planned. However...and this is sappy...it will be my first night (full weekend) away from Ryder, aside from the 10 days I spent in the ICU dying (that's another story).

He will be with Ant...and I know Ryder is ready for it, he is all about his Daddy right now. I also know that I need to get away and have me some me time, and that I too am in a sense ready for it. However, what I am not ready for is him being ready for it, LOL. I don't want to come home and hear how happy and great and totally forgotten I was. It's not like I don't want everyone to have a good time while I am gone...I just want them to be, I don't know...a little miserable? Not to the point of total despair...just you know, so that when I get back they are all horribly happy to see me...and have already decided to throw a parade in my honor, and shower me with gifts and gratitude. That's not so much is it? Okay...they don't have to buy gifts...that was pushing it.

You would miss him too.....admit it.

Green Acres is the place to be....

2009-01-26T20:44:00.000-08:00

Every now and then I get little spurts in me, where I like to drive around and go up roads I never been up before. So, today after picking up Austin from school...we ventured off to a road that we had never been on. Now, it's no big deal...the longest one we have ever taken was about an hour...but we were chasing a rain cloud, trying to get rained on (the lightning was unbelievable that night).

So, there we were cruising up a road undiscovered by us...taking in the open green scenery and discussing all the quaint little houses living on that road, when on the way back to our starting point...I looked out and seen the Buttes. The Buttes have practically been a focal point of my life...when I was a kid living at least a 30-40 min drive away, I would day dream of running away and walking to the Buttes. I have driven through them, every which way possible, and seen them my whole life...but still they hold a great deal of magic for me (and most everyone living in the area).

We were on our way back home, when we noticed a man out on his tractor plowing his fields...he looked up and gave us a huge smile and a wave...which of course made us smile and wave back. And that was when it hit me, since moving out here I have never been smiled or waved at SO much in my life...I truly love it!

Maybe all this smiling and waving will help my smile look less like I am going to eat your face off, and more like "hey...we should get a beer together and shoot the shit"...LOL maybe I am a little too country now!

Open up your plans and damn you're free.....(j.m.)

2009-01-24T12:06:00.000-08:00

A post in which I bitch about people who assume that they are way too busy.

These are the type of people who are always throwing out the "I have been SO busy...I just can't ____(you fill it in)____" and who also complain how they feel "out of the loop on everything". You know what I am talking about?

The type of people that absolutely refuse to accept the fact that they CHOOSE who they are willing to invest time and energy into, and are constantly using the fact that they have a "busy schedule" excuse to make up for their total lack of interest. In hopes that the recipient won't realize that they are not on their special interest list. I mean to the point, of ad nauseam, to how busy they are...that no one could ever know the busy that is busy in their busy lives. You know...BUSY?!?!?!

To you...Captain Occupied, hailing from the land of engrossed assiduousness, leader of the hectic nation STFU! And?....get over yourself!

I don't know if you know this...but I too am busy. Sure, sure...I am a stay at home mom, with no real source of income. But let me assure you, I am fucking busy. You would not even believe how busy I can fucking get...friends, family, bills, house cleaning, yard work...maintaining a semi livable environment for 3 other people while neglecting any real time for myself...keeps me fucking busy. (this is not just for SAHM...in my opinion, and I have been both a SAHM and a working mom, working moms have it hard. It is the hardest thing I have ever done! And? SAHM's need to shut it, when complaining to working mom's how "at least they get to get away from the kids" Fuck you! You know what not only sucks about having to be away from your kids because you are working? That we have to stroke your fucking ego and say bullshit like "I could never do what you do" to get you to shut the fuck up... because guess what? working mom's do what you do and some!)

Also? We choose what keeps us busy...I can go for hours on end keeping myself busy with the thought that I am overweight and need to so something about it. I am busy not cleaning my house...I am busy cleaning my fucking house. And I am definitely busy with not wanting to hear you cry about being so fucking busy, to do anything productive with those who you claim to love. Here's a little suggestion...be busy with not complaining about being busy...just go be busy! We are all grown ups and can deal with the fact that we have different schedules and different plans with our lives....let's be busy with telling the truth. Let's face it...if we can't like each other without the mirage, then we never really liked each other to begin with.

Just saying.