Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Strep Throat ... Again! It's a Conspiracy!

Wouldn't you think that by now, at the end of the school year, a kid would be in the clear from infectious things like strep throat?

Woulda thunk, huh?

Not so.

And wouldn't you think that, given the opportunity to take chewable, tasty Amoxil or swallowable PCN, a kid would go for the better tasting of the two?

Woulda thunk, huh?

So, not only do I have a recovering 8 year-old, I have an 8 year-old who is gagging on her meds every single time she takes them. Three times a day.

She opted out of the shot. I should have encouraged it.

This was added to my day on top of the student who thinks EVERYthing is a conspiracy. Everything.

New no smoking laws. Conspiracy.

Seat belt laws. Conspiracy.

F in Microcomputers last month. Conspiracy.

Every single agency in the United States (don't EVEN get him started on the INS). Conspiracy.

It is going to be a LOOOOOOOOOONNNNGGGGGG four weeks.

Maybe I could get him started on the idea that the rapid strep test people, the doctors, and the pharmaceutical companies are all in it together.

Nah ... that's MY conspiracy theory.

Have a good one, peeps! Stay cool!

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Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Dear Urgent Care Center

Thank you SO much for putting on your voice mail system that you were not going to be in operation on Memorial Day. That certainly saved me that trip that I made out there with my ill daughter yesterday morning, only to pull into your parking lot to see that NObody was there. I really appreciate the fact that you saved me my time and my gas, because boy .. I didn't have anything else to do yesterday morning but spend most of it on the phone, trying to see if I could get my daughter seen by a medical professional.

Thank you SO much for alerting your parent company, the local hospital, and all of the medical professionals in this town of your decision to shut down for the day. I mean, come on. Let the damn HOSPITAL know whether you are operating on Memorial Day or not.

Was it is a medical emergency?

Ok. No. It wasn't.

However, had I been able to get my kid in to see someone, they could have gotten her meds prescribed and she would be on the way to good health right now. But instead, she is lying here in my bed, after battling a 103 fever last night before bed, and ... here's the real reason for my saltiness this morning ... staying home from school.

Gah. I have a million and one things to do today, and now I have a million and two.

I love her. I really do. But when she is ill enough to stay home, there comes a point in time when she starts to feel better. Then I have to chase her back into my room. All day long.

Thanks a lot, Urgent Care. I'm sending you my gas money bill, and the bill for my psychotherapy.

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Monday, May 28, 2007

3:44 am

Not the time that I want to be greeted by my oldest child, saying "mommy ... I feel like I'm going to throw up."

THANKFULLY, it never transpired. However, this does mean a trip to our Urgent Care center because well you know, germs and holidays go hand in hand. She was complaining of a sore throat yesterday all day, then she popped a fever of 102, and the nausea. Same exact symptoms that the Man had when he had strep.

I wish there was a strep diagnosis kit that they sold OTC. Wouldn't that be wonderful? And the only way you could get a script was by bringing in the dipstick with the positive sign on it, and the pharmacists would confiscate them, to eliminate the idea that people would just abuse the tests.

I think it sounds like a freaking solid idea. Especially at 8:00 am on a Memorial Day where I have all kids home, all of whom were expecting to go with me and their PawPaw to the Memorial Day parade this morning, but instead I am hoping to send the younger two with PawPaw and I will take the Queen to the infestation of all germs, the Urgent Care center.

There is a rumor that there is a NP at our local pharmacy, and that she can do strep tests, and get the scripts written and filled there. But my wild guess is s/he isn't working today.

Because I know I'm not.

Then that foils the family get together tonight. Ace will stay home with the Queen, while the Man, Monkey, and I go to my brother's camper to par-tay. And I will hear about this. Every. Single. Minute. Of. The. Day. Today.

Ok ... other than that ...


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Friday, May 25, 2007

Yoda Man ... you bad girl

So I get a phone call tonight. It is my dear friend, Jacque Blue.

Jacque wants to know if I had read my blog earlier today. Wanted to know what I thought of Yoda Man's offer.

I was skeptical, but deep down I was looking to make a quick sale of old Han boy.

Much to my surprise, Yoda Man isn't a man at all. He isn't even a he. He's a she. And SHE lives here in my same small town. And she looks REMOTELY like this one girl that I call a dear friend.

Jacque... you sneaky, sneaky woman.

I will get you, my pretty. You and your little dog, too.

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May the Toys Be With You ... Always

What happened 30 years ago today?

No. I wasn't born.

No. Ace wasn't born.

No. None of my kids were born.

30 years ago today, I started my love affair with science fiction.

30 years ago today, Star Wars debuted in movie theaters.

30 years ago today, I started off with my crush on Luke Skywalker but then I later decided that Han Solo was MUCH yummier. And I think everyone else would agree with me.

30 years ago today, the craze of putting the little Kenner toys catalog in Cheerios boxes started. It was a good ploy to get kids to start eating better cereal for breakfast. I would sit at my kitchen table and pore over that little catalog, dreaming of all the Star Wars toys I would ask for for Christmas.

I know that I have mentioned the time when I snooped around in the closet at my house and found three-Barbie sized action figures, and tried to act like I hadn't found them? My Mom got me Luke, Leia, and Han. Leia had that crazy hair that they said you could put back up in those donut things, but I could never get her hair back up.

I don't know what happened to Luke and Leia. I am sure they met the demise of the garage sale.
But I know exactly where Han is...


Happy 30th Anniversary, fellow geeks!

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Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Do you have a hero?

Have you ever had a hero? Do you have one now?

That one person who will do anything for you. That one person who shows up at the right time, and takes care of something for you?

This morning, this decided to run across my kitchen floor....

That is a common house centipede.

Now.... there are two words there that just do. not. belong. next. to. one. another.

That would be house and centipede.

I was folding laundry because my wonderful friend Robin was swinging by with an iced coffee for me so we could sit and chat for a few.

And then ... I saw it ... out of the corner of my eye. It moved quickly as centipedes tend to do.

I screeched. I jumped out of my chair so fast that I almost fell over it. The younger two were in the living room, peeking in to see what had caused me to have such a horrific reaction.

I got out the 409 that I had used earlier that morning to asphyxiate a spider who was doing one of those drop things from the ceiling. I don't do spiders, people. I just don't.

And I don't do centipedes more than I don't do spiders.

I hate them. And it is the one insect that Ace will admit he can't stand, either. So I am sure if he were here, he would have been screaming like a little girl, too.

I started spraying this centipede with Forumla 409. Did you know that centipedes are hardy little creatures?

That damn bug ran from one side of my kitchen to the next, all the while being laden down with three squirts of 409 every step it took.

And then ... it disappeared. I mean... literally vanished. I turned my back on it for two seconds to get a paper towel (don't ask me what I thought I was going to DO with that towel... I hadn't worked up to that point yet), and the little mofo was gone.

I had to move the laundry basket that I had been working on out of the way. A pair of the Queen's underwear had inadvertently landed on the floor.

And that centipede thought that that underwear was the refuge it needed to get away from the mad, pissed off housewife with the bottle in her hand. He had apparently seen the work I had made of that innocent spider, so he decided he should lay low for a bit.

I moved those underwear, and there he was.... under the underwear. STILL alive, the little ba**ard.

So I did what every person who has witnessed the only sole survivor of the nuclear holocaust known as the 409 bombs would have done: I threw my paper towel on it and started gigglingcrying, exclaiming that I didn't know what to do with the bug. The Man had to ask me numerous times if I was "ok. Are you CRYING mommy?"

Yes son. Mommy is crying. And you will need to call 911 here in a minute to get the ambulance here when Mommy has her coronary.

Then I hear a door open. And I look out in my driveway.

My knight in shining armor has arrived. With angels on her shoulders, and a bolt of lightning in her fist, she entered my house and rid me of that bug.

Here is a picture of the kill....

I told you it was huge.

To my dear and wonderful friend... anything you need, I will do it for you.

Just ... make sure it doesn't look like a centipede.

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DA** Ducks

When we first moved to this house some seven and a half years ago, we thought that it was cool that we were right across the street from our local river. This river, I found out, covers a lot of our town ... I think the statistic for our town is that over 60 percent of it is covered in water (I think that includes our reservoirs, too).

We used to think this:

and this:

were cute.

I remember our across the street neighbors clucking their tongues at us when we fed the ducks bread because you know, that's what you do with ducks.

I laughed at the director of our local park district when they put out the mandate to stop feeding the ducks and geese at the water's edge. I thought he was a total idiot because WHO hated ducks and geese? They are part of river life.

Then my opinion of ducks was forever changed.

Did you know that drakes are relentless in their mating?

It was the first year we lived here, and my inlaws were up for a visit. They were standing at the front of my house, looking at three ducks in my yard: two males and one unfortunate female. A drake will stand by her woman until she lays her eggs. Then it is sayonara, baby. You take care of the kids from now on. Typical man.

So we had a drake and his woman in our yard, and then another drake entered the picture. The love triangle was a brief but deadly one. The drakes fought so much over her that one of them ended up breaking her neck. So we were left with duck disposal. And where they had fought, they had beaten down an area of the grass. I asked Ace to go out and cut it as soon as possible because I couldn't stand seeing that physical reminder of the murder.

A few years later, we had a drake and hen lurking around in our backyard. We didn't think too much of it. Then we had a nest of eggs in a plant right behind our garage. We told the Queen about it, but didn't tell the Man because we had all of these not so nice visions running through our heads. We thought "cool ... a teaching opportunity." We had NO idea how she was going to lead the ducklings across a busy street to the river. We just weren't going to watch.

About one week after she laid her eggs, we heard a scuffle in the front yard. Sure enough, there was a dead hen in our yard. Again. We feared that it was THE hen, so we watched her nest. And sure enough, it was her. Her eggs became unviable (we even called the park district ... you remember the ones ... get rid of the ducks of our county), so Ace had to dispose of her body AND her eggs.

So now when we see those stupid birds in our yard we know (1) that it is springtime and (2) nature will rear its ugly head at some point. But I will have to say this: the park district. SMART people. By not feeding these birds at the water's edge, the ducks have seriously left for other waters. We don't have as many infiltrators as we used to.

Now if we can just work on the stupid Canadian geese who seem to think this place looks like Niagra Falls.

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Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Living in total denial

I think I have been living in the land of denial.

Because as much as I love to think that I have things all under control, that control will be out the door in a few weeks.

When the kids are home for summer break.

June 8th. The magical day around here. Last day of school.

School's out for summer.

Remember that feeling? Remember that feeling of sleeping in just a little bit more that first weekday?

Remember that feeling of sheer freedom?

I do.

And I should have relished EVERY minute of it. Because that feeling gets to be in my kids now.

I get the feelings of panic and despair and onsetting mood swings.

Isn't there someplace in the United States where the kids go all year round?

Don't get me wrong... I love my kids. It is just that this is a small house. I have kids who want to be outside ALL the time. I also have someone who is going to be in the THIRD grade ... and she is BORED with the things her younger siblings do.

When I was her age, I was running all over the neighborhood with my friends. I was riding my bike ALL over the place.

Those days are gone, my friends.

So this summer I have planned to send the Queen to Brownie Day Camp for two days. My mother will be watching them three mornings a week, and Ace one of them for the month of June while I teach Legal Research (yes, I know... I said I was taking a break from teaching ... but this is a break from the night class, so it is all good). I am enrolling the Monkey in Safety Town this year, and I want to get the older two thrown in at the Red Cross' swimming lessons, if I can convince the Man that he NEEDS to learn how to swim so he can get over his fear of swimming. I mean come on ... it's the baby pool, dude!

I am throwing around the idea of sending them to our Bible School, a backyard Bible club (and I dodged THAT bullet because I was asked to host another one this year because mine was "so SUCCESSFUL a few years ago;" read: we were glad YOU were the one who had the 20 plus kids a day at YOUR house, and so sorry that swing broke when that 100 pound boy was swinging on it). But I need to decide which house to send them to. The one with kids more their age is at our choir director's house in a town about 20 minutes from here, and with gas prices, I am no so sure about that drive. And I would have to STAY there.... shudder.

Ok. Maybe I need to get things more planned out in the coming weeks. The Queen's dance recital week is the one that marks D-Days for me ... and that is only in a few weeks.

WHERE did this school year go?

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Monday, May 21, 2007


I think I need this tshirt:

And then my sister needs this one:

And this just cracked me up...

And for my dear friend, RKWP....

And here's the source of the hilarity... warning: some off-beat humor ahead but well worth it!

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Saturday, May 19, 2007

Daily Docket Doozie

Because the past few days have been filled with newsworthy items, I have failed to acknowledge one of the daily docket entries that appeared in the same newspaper edition as the story of the baby in the park and the Post Office bomb scare.

I can only imagine what this guy smelled like after this little stunt:

A motorcyclist - balancing a pizza on his lap - was arrested Tuesday for drunken driving and having no motorcycle endorsement in the 700 block of Western Avenue. Prior to refusing a breath test, the man consumed garlic sauce from the pizza box.

And from today's edition, here's another definition for "skid marks:"

A report that a man had been hit by a car on Sherry Street at 8 p.m. Thursday and had "tire tracks on his back" proved to be unfounded. The man had apparently jumped on a car, and fell off, after a girlfriend had taken it without his permission.

This dude probably got about 2 gallons of gas in this incident:

A man in a Ford Taurus fled Site, 1303 N. Main St., without paying for $40.01 worth of gasoline at about 11:45 a.m. Thursday.


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Friday, May 18, 2007

A sign of the times

This is the note that was written on the box where a newborn baby boy was placed, who was found by a middle school student who went into the bathroom at the right time that cold and rainy morning.

Baby Boy Doe is now in the temporary custody of our county child services department. And this Mom wants to go put her name in for adopting the little man.

The judge is waiting to see if the bio mother or father comes forward.

My wild guess is: they won't.

My friend Robin was the social worker at the hospital that morning. I am sure that it was a heart-wrenching experience to know that someone could so casually give a child up like that. And then I am reminded .... so was Ace. Well ok, not in a bathroom at a local park. But he was the product of two teenagers who got together one night and couldn't care for the choice they made. And now I think of this little man ... who will forever be known as the child who was abandoned by his parents in a park.

And maybe it would be a good thing if the little mite wasn't adopted in this area.


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Thursday, May 17, 2007

You know it is going to be a good day when....

you go to the Post Office to mail off some things that you need to get out, and they tell you to evacuate the building because of a suspicious looking backpack.

I took off to mail some things yesterday. The Mominator came over to watch the younglings for me so I didn't have to take them with me. I had to get some stamps for her, mail off two paperback books, and two orders from my knitting business.

While I was standing in the 10-person deep line, there was some activity. As if they were looking for something.

Then I get to have my turn at the window. Purchase the Mominator's stamps first. Put the books up, start that transaction, and the clerk at the window asks me if I see a backpack on the floor anywhere. I don't. Then the gentleman who had been walking around stops by the end of a table, looks at it, and then hastily retreats to an inside office.

I start thinking of the worst case scenario: this is MY time to go. I am going to die in an Post Office explosion along with 20 other people. The only thing that will be left at the scene of the crime will be thousands of letters, floating around in the air.

And then I got pissed off that the gentleman who made the discovery decided that we needed to evacuate. NOW! Not after my transactions. Not after I pay for my books and get the rest of my stuff out. Not after I get my custom slip filled out for my APO delivery. NOW!

It turned out to be nothing. It was more than likely a homeless person's backpack that was inadvertently left there, which is what I had thought. After I was driving away in the safety of my van, of course. While I was there, I imagined Ted Kaczynki's little brother skulking around, scoping out the place, dropping the backpack, and hauling ass out of there.

And I am sure you are wondering what happened with the books that were in the window when they shut it down on me. Well, in true Post Office fashion, I received a phone call yesterday afternoon to apologize, but to also let me know that I owed them $ 4.64.

Oh .... and for my local readers who might also read the local newspaper ... I did NOT run out of the Post Office.


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Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Has anyone seen my son's walls?

The Door Man is such a sponge for knowledge. He immerses himself wholeheartedly in any given subject. He loves to decorate his room, too.

So you know I had to grab the camera and capture this stage of his life. This is a scrapbook memory if I have ever seen one.

This one is his colors wall ....

This one is his months wall ... and don't mind that frilly looking bed he sleeps on ... he doesn't even notice it.


This is the miscellaneous wall ... the one right over his bed .... he has this one sheet of paper that has an arrow on it, and he moves that along for the season.

This is the "you are here" wall..... this lonely picture of the United States that he so painstakingly colored with all those different colors is over his dresser ... away from the reach of small fingers.

Would you say I am raising a future educator?


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Tuesday, May 15, 2007


I am very active in my church. I am in choir, I sing on a special vocal group once or twice a month, and as of now, I am the main director of the KinderChoir (God grant me the strength).

I also have a full time job and a part time job. I have three kids.

So when we get these directives from troop leaders (there is only one person I am speaking of right now as the Queen is the only person actively involved in any troops) to help out more, to do this or do that, I get a little pi**ed off.

Ok. I get a LOT pi**ed off.

Brownie Day Camp is coming up at a local park. $ 20 for them to take my kid off my hands for 2 days in a row from 9 to 3. Nirvana. I was going to sign the Monkey up for Safety Town during that session, but won't be able to pull that one off since I have to be at an orientation the first day of the Monkey's programming. So I will be sending the Queen off.

Then we get an email from this troop leader. Now ... don't mind the fact that I personally cannot stand this woman, that I can't stand either one of her bratty daughters (and I NEVER call kids brats unless they are totally deserving of the title ... they are products of their mother's obnoxiouness ... ok. That makes me feel better). She has been a good leader in the fact that she is consistent. She holds consistent meetings, but she also has help from two other mothers and the occasional help from some other moms who have volunteered in the past (me included).

The email is detailing the issues of Brownie Day Camp. The leaders have asked that 2 adults for every troop needs to be in attendance. So this troop leader suggests that people take a day off of work to help.

Ok. A day off of work for me calls for me getting a babysitter all day for my kids. I just don't do that. Should I? It won't hurt them. But you know what ... there are people in that troop who CAN'T take time off of work to attend a Brownie Day Camp. Am I one of them? I consider myself so, yes.

But then I am viewed as the person who never volunteers. The person who just uses the system for my DD to be a part of it, but never giving back to it because nobody is ever there to look at my other volunteering opportunties to see that I am taxed to the max.

There are moms there who have never done a thing. They drop off and pick up only. You never hear them volunteer. Target them. Go for our county auditor ... she hasn't done jack sh**.

Can you tell I'm a little bitter about this?

I want the Queen to be a part of this group because she loves it. She has a good time. But there are times when parents just need to be LEFT alone and not brow-beaten into submission to volunteer. Some of us just simply can't do it anymore.


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Monday, May 14, 2007

No wonder the roads are all messed up

When we were at Creating Keepsakes University, we were appalled by the state of the roads in Dearborn, MI. If you are at all familiar with the road system in Detroit, you understand what I mean.

When we first arrived on that Wednesday night, we did one of those European Vacation things ... driving around in a large circle around the hotel. Look kids, Big Ben... Parliament. Look kids, its the Hyatt .... now HOW do we get over there?

And the Michigan left hander. Whatever. Seriously. Now I see why Michigan drivers have such a bad reputation as being extremely fast drivers when they get into Ohio. You know why? Because ... the roads make sense.

So this morning, my local AM station played a blurb of a 911 call from a Dearborn police officer. Heard about this?

Apparently, the Dearborn police department let this officer resign without being charged of a drug crime when he called 911 and told the operator this:

"I think we're dying," he said in the 5-minute tape, obtained under the Michigan Freedom of Information Act. "We made brownies and I think we're dead, I really do," Sanchez continued. He told the dispatcher he had never made marijuana brownies before, but had previously used marijuana.

I think I can understand the road systems better now...


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Saturday, May 12, 2007

Good morning, Starshine! The earth says hello!

Someone isn't quite ready to embrace 37 this morning ... anyone who still sleeps on the same pillowcase that he had when he was 7 needs a little wake up call, don't you think?

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Friday, May 11, 2007

They say its his birthday

Na na na na na ... Tomorrow is Ace's birthday. And I think a certain blog reader has a birthday soon (or has already had? .. Robin, when IS your birthday so I can mark it in my calendar and then completely forget about it).

Ace has been getting up every morning to run. He is getting himself ready for a certain something that I won't reveal until he's ready to go. He drags his butt out of bed at 5:15 every morning, makes my coffee, and then heads out the door for some self-flagellation. I admire him. I'm still sawing logs (most mornings ... not today) when he returns. He feels invigorated. I feel lethargic.

So tomorrow is THE day.

I have a few things that I need to finish up today. Like get his present. Get the kids' presents for him. Get him a card. Get him a cake. Make reservations for tomorrow night. Square things away with my babysitters (AKA my parents). But other than that, I'm pretty much done.

So in keeping with Southern-speak tradition in honor of Ace, y'all have a good Friday, ya hear?


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Thursday, May 10, 2007

and another thing...

Did you all see this? This is why there are so many lawyer jokes out there about sharks and professional courtesy...

But maybe this guy from our Daily Docket should get them a call ...

A rural man reported Tuesday that his new wife had taken $10,000 from his wallet and left him for another man in Indiana. The woman may already have been married to another male.


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Fog Throws a Cog in the Works

Yep. Two hour fog delay. It BETTER not turn into a three-hour delay. Get this ....

Three hour delay. The Queen, who normally gets on the bus at 8:15, will get on at 11:15, get to school, eat lunch, and then continue on with the rest of her day. The Man, who normally gets on at 12:15 will get on at 2:15!!!!!!! and then they both come home at 4:30.

GIVE me a break. Extend the flipping school year another day. Seriously.

And Ace just came in from his morning run and he is soaked. He said it is like pea soup out there.

I have a bad feeling about this.


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Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Guess what I missed last night?

I came home from teaching, and I was greeted at the door by the Man. He was all excited about something, but he didn't tell me anything. Then I hear this voice from the girls' room ... Tell Mommy what you did tonight!

Mommy! I rode a two-wheeler tonight!!!!

You DID!?!?!??! Oh ... I wish I could have seen it!

Ace told me that he took about 2 minutes of instruction from them, and then boom. He's off and riding a bike.

A banana seat bike, but a bike nonetheless. Now we need to get him a new bike. One that doesn't knock his knees into the handlebar every time he pumps his legs.

Ah ... I can see the injuries of summer lighting on this house like flies on honey.

But ... he has his rules:

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Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Something has to give

Ever get yourself so wound up in a tight ball that you feel you could be bounced from New York to Detroit and back and never feel the effects?

That is me right now.

I have this tremendous amount of creative energy right now, but I only have so many hours in the day (and so many resources) to utilize it. The rest of the time, I am wiping noses or telling someone to get ready for school or getting lunch around or preparing for class or whatever.

I have decided that I am no longer going to teach class at this institution anymore. I don't like the format, and I don't like giving people "busy" work just to keep them in their seats for 4 hours a night. I have too much respect for the students, who are all adults with jobs and lives and kids, to just keep them there. If I finish with the material, then we are done. If I finish with the material in 2 hours and not 4, then we are done. But then you get these notes in the newsletter that it has been "observed" that the evening classes have been letting out early. Well, that is directed at me specifically. The other profs keep their students until 10. And what are they doing during that time? Busy work. Or listening to their prof talk about nothing that pertains to the work at hand.

See ... and if I let this one thing go, I think I will be a happier person. I will be able to actually work at night, and have the weekends free. I will actually be able to take over a lot of the stuff that Ace has had to handle. Does this mean I want to stop teaching altogether? No. Just not there anymore. I guess I have a difficult time taking directive from a "boss" who says things like "I seen that coming."

A lot of my mind this morning. Plus I have to help my friend Jacque this morning, but also have to get one dropped off at preschool and the other dropped off at Kindergarten for a field trip.

I want to open up a yarn store. I just want to have that ability.

Man ... too many things going on in my head this morning. What should be going through it is this case I am working on.

So off to work I go.... Hi Ho Hi Ho....


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Monday, May 07, 2007

Don't you take that tone with me!

I remember my mother saying to me "Don't you take that tone with me!"

Our tone of voice is something that really indicates how we feel, isn't it? You can tell when someone is listening and really listening to you. You can tell when someone is just placating you. And you can tell when someone is really pissed off.

We listen to voices all day long. We hear our kids' voices, whining for just ONE more snack before dinner. We listen to our spouse's voice when you didn't turn in that one receipt that he didn't know about. We listen to our parents' voices when they are making a comment about our parenting style, but not directing that comment at us but instead directing it in the form of veiled criticism directly to our children.

And then there is that tone ... that one that says "whatever."

You know that one. That sarcastic, almost to the brink of being bored tone.

It was that tone that I chose to use in my head when our choir director told us to say "Praise the Lord" yesterday. But apparently not only did I use it in my head, I verbalized it.


I don't think that the people in front of me heard it. But Ace did. And as soon as it left my lips, I did one of those Homer Simpson cringe/D'oh things, and Ace exclaims "NICE!"

Apparently, it was a rather sarcastic exclamation.

But here's why. There is nothing that I don't like more is being TOLD by my pastors to say something. Is there an amen out there?

And this one was one of those times. Prompting someone to be led by the Spirit during worship is one thing. Forcing someone to respond in a certain manner, when you normally don't respond in that manner, that is a whole 'nother ball of wax for me.

I don't walk around saying Praise the Lord. I just don't. That isn't me. And don't even get me started when they taught us the motions to Lord We Lift Your Name on High that the ELEMENTARY CHOIR uses. Please. To see my MOTHER stand there, digging an imaginary grave ... that was just way too much.

Music is a large part of our ministry. And people should be allowed to worship in their own way. Asking the congregation to respond in a manner that is forced ... that really isn't giving glory to God to me. That is just asking them to be a participant, and maybe they don't want to participate in that manner. And maybe we don't want to do interpretive dance. Leave that to the one person in our church who so freely feels the leading of the Spirit that she will erupt in dance at any given moment (don't get me started on the effects that has on a person like me who can't stop staring at someone when they call attention to themselves, albeit not a selfish calling of attention).

So ... in your best "whatever" tone of voice ... say it with me


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Saturday, May 05, 2007

Our Daily Dose of Inspiration

The Queen and I are taking off this morning to open the gates of the local craft show. This is a big one ... over 400 vendors. There is also a flea market that we might go over to tomorrow. This is where I get my ideas, thinking "I can make that, I can sew that, I can knit that, I can crochet that" then I come home, arm myself with all the supplies and then realize what a dolt I was to think I could do it.

I have all this creative energy right now. I want to create. I want to make. I want to buy. I want I want I want.

Do you think that EVERYone is like this?

A few years ago, I could have cared less. Now I need to find that creative outlet. I need to be doing something constantly. If I'm not knitting, I'm crocheting. If I am not crocheting, I am buying things to knit the next project. If I am not buying knitting items, I am buying scrapbooking stuff (HAPPY NATIONAL SCRAPBOOK DAY, PEEPS!). Then the stuff ... sits.

Now, I can't let a good yarn sit on the shelf too long. Scrapbook stuff ... it can sit for years in the same bag. Isn't that awful? I know, friends. It is a true travesty.

But I am about the instant. Ask me how long it took for me to make three scrapbook pages the last time I was our local store. 45 minutes, start to finish. I am simple. I keep it simple. I don't journal. Journaling to me is a waste of time. But I know I should do it. When I see a scrapbook situation, I do think about how I would journal it. I see things as scrapbook situations, too. I know most scrappers do.

So this weekend is a good one. Crafting, trying to get work finished at a decent hour (which is what I should be doing right now ...), soccer games, and a mother/daughter banquet tonight ... now that I could take or leave, but it is everyone, minus the Monkey. But she could attend.

Here's just hoping that my choir director isn't the one who wants to "escort" me to my table.

Ok. Off I go. Have a productive and happy weekend!

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Friday, May 04, 2007

Daily Docket Doozie

The sad thing about this is, this is the store where my brother in law, the hunter, is the night stock manager. He is probably the one who had to deal with this flipping yahoo!

An inebriated man - wanted under three city warrants - was caught drinking a wine cooler inside Kroger, 101 Sixth St. He also tried to shoplift beef jerky, hot dogs and hair scrunchies in his pants. Prior to being taken into custody, he poured a wine cooler onto his head in the store Tuesday.

I would like to thank my friend, Kendra, who always has her eye out for these stories! She and I have the same sense of humor, and we always pick the same ones out! BTW Kendra... the ribbon has landed. Thanks so much!!! I will get that put together this weekend (at least the Queen's) so she can wear it Saturday night


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Thursday, May 03, 2007

A Weekend of Memories

When Ace and I were dating, he took me to the Kentucky Derby. It was an experience and a half. Of course, we were poor college students, so it was the infield for us.

Lel E. Tee, ridden by Pat Day, was the winner of the Derby that year. I remember walking around, looking at all the drunk people. I remember seeing a group of people with a cutout of E.T., and couldn't understand their craziness. They weren't crying that year, I'm sure, as their pony made it to the wire first. I remember watching a group of guys start rocking a port-a-potty with someone in it. I remember losing my $ 100 Ray Bans (remember those!) at the bus stop BEFORE the Derby started, having to buy an obnoxious plastic pair with the Derby logo on it. I was SPORTING.

The following year, I was already back up in Ohio but I made the trip back down to the 'Ville to attend the Derby. That year, you can bet that I did not pick Sea Hero. My luck with the ponies was NOT good. We would go to Keeneland in Lexington, KY, and I think I won maybe twice. And we went a few times. It was embarassing, really.

That year, we were there with Ace's friends. And I remember one friend, one IDIOTIC friend, saying "has he asked her yet?"

This didn't register with me. I attributed it to Scott just being ... Scott. You just have to know Scott. He is his own enigma.

So that night, Ace had a night dinner out planned. I sort of suspected something was up. He was nervous. He kept his pocket away from me. We ate dinner at The Galt House, and he took me up on the Belvedere in downtown Louisville.

And then he asked me. THE question.

And of course, I said yes.

So this coming weekend hold a lot of memories for me. I have no idea who is running the field at the Derby. I haven't followed horse racing. But I will be there, watching it on the television because I just have to.

It's tradition.

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Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Family by fate, friends by choice blah blah blah whatever

My sister and I are SOOOOO opposite of one another. It is fun to hear an outsider's viewpoint of my family, and Robin has hit the nail on the head: she said she has never met a family that is so different from one another to still be a family.

The Mominator and I are basically two peas in a pod. We are opinionated. We can't keep our mouths shut. We have to have five jobs to feel fulfillment. However, I have more self-confidence than my mother, and I attribute that to the fact that I have more "control" over my marriage relationship than my Mom did when she was my age. My Dad ... I love him to death, but he can be a real dork sometimes, pulling that macho "Me man, me work outside, you woman, you run sweeper" crap with my Mom. And I have always been so surprised to see my Mom roll over when it comes to some arguments with my Dad. My Dad hasn't always put my Mom first. Ok ... who am I deluding. He NEVER puts my Mom first. He is always thinking about others so much, that he forsakes my Mom on occasion. Too many stories, not enough attention span to write them down.

Then there is my brother. Good old brother. He is 11 years my senior, so saying we are the best of buds is an overstatement. I was the one who ruined his Thanksgiving dinner. I am the one who wasn't a brother when I was born. I think that deep down inside, he hasn't forgiven me for those two things that I could never control. But we are cool. We have a relationship. And that is good. We can go for months on end without speaking to one another, and we are just fine with that. He is the one I look like the most, though. So you can well imagine ... that is either good for him or bad for me. ;)

Then my sister. Ah yes.... Mini Martha. She is extremely SO opposite of me, it isn't even funny. She has a quirky dress style. I am granola Birk and tye dye. She is organized. I am so far from organized that I drive her insane. She is vegetarian. I am not. She loves to be outside gardening. I love to be outside sitting my fat arse in a chair and knitting or crocheting.

And our parenting style. Don't even get me started. This morning, I was relaying how I had taken away the Queen's Gameboy for a month because she had mouthed off to me SO badly yesterday that I just took it and told her she was off of it until June 1. I made that comment to Mini Martha, and she said WOW. That sure is a long time. You bet your bottom dollar it is, Annie.

Then I said that it was too bad because I had just won Wario Ware off of Ebay for it last night. I said that the Door Man will be able to play it while she is off of it, and immediately she said "well, that sure isn't fair. That seems like a double-punishment right there. You shouldn't let him play it."

I informed her that he DOES play it when the Queen is not around. That she DOES grant him permission to play it from time to time. So ... why should HE be punished because she is being punished? I mean ... ok yeah. It technically is NOT his game. I understand that. But we have allowed them to share it when SHE lets him. She is the one in control of it. So since she is no longer in control of it, then we are. WE are the parents. The Queen doesn't run the show.

And therein lies our difference: She is all about sacrificing everything for the well-being of her child, sometimes losing herself along the way. I am all about self-preservation because if my kids see that I am no longer "me" because I have so fallen into the role of their mother, that is not doing them any good.

Plus ... she gave birth to one. I gave birth to three.

See ... totally different. SOOOOOO totally different.


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Tuesday, May 01, 2007

443 posts?

I was just coming on here to talk about ... oh. Really. Nothing. And then I saw that number.

I have 443 posts here. In one year. That is more than once a day.

Dude. I need to get paid to blog. And none of that payperpost stuff.

Just someone to pay me to blog. About me. And my family. And my trials and tribulations.

On another note, I emailed Donna Downey last night (she is in my blogroll over there). She is an icon in the scrapbook world like Ali Edwards and Becky Higgins. She goes around the country, teaching classes, and sometimes travels internationally. She is who I want to be. And she is 35, people. 35.

So I saw that she was still knitting toys, and I want to get the book she is working from because she has turned out some cute things in there. So I decided that I needed to share the obsession with this Amigurumi crochet.

I have made these two things in the past week:

It really is a lot of fun. The doll ... she was a PITA to sew together because she was in all these pieces, and I just don't have the patience to do that. She was definitely a labor of love.

I am now making a mermaid for the Monkey from another pattern maker, and her things are ADORABLE. So I decided that I needed to let Donna know about the craze.

She immediately emailed me back, telling me that she had JUST purchased some patterns from that same pattern maker last night.

Great minds think alike.

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The Lovely She, that is me!

I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

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The nine-year-old who seems to be growing older every minute, has an opinion and a comment for everything, and has a true servant's heart.
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The seven-year-old who loves the organization of things, will someday be someone's therapist because of his kind soul, and will more than likely be living with us until he is 40 years old.
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The five-year-old with the 13-year-old attitude, who has a dictator's personality, asks you to watch her all the time and say "hold on" to keep your attention, and will someday come home on the back of some dude's motorcycle with 10 tatts and a body piercing or two.

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The man of the house, the fixer of things, the winner of prizes, and the only person in his family to escape the South.

Retiring the Blog
A Blast from the Past
Just nothing today ....
Move over, Mom
Because life wasn't exciting enough....
Mystic Pizza
Starting off on the wrong foot
A convo at our house
My 6 am dreams
This, my friends, is the true definition of TMI


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