Unexplored Territory

Retiring the Blog

2007-09-24T23:24:00.001-04:00

Nope. Not getting out completely. Just changing scenery and providers.

So come on over to http://unexploredterritory.wordpress.com/ and get your fill there.

Don't make me come and get you.

A Blast from the Past

2007-09-24T06:40:00.000-04:00

Robin's recent post about her child's alternative use of feminine products brought back a memory of mine that I thought had been repressed forever.

When I was about seven years old, I loved to go through my sister's drawers. I was obsessed with looking in there for some reason. Well, the reason was ... I was nosey and I was an obnoxious little sister.

Back in the late 70s, early 80s, the Stayfree Maxi Pad was thicker than an average child's arm. I remember looking at those things on a daily basis, but I could never quite determine the use for them.

Then ... I had an epiphany.

On the same day my mother was having a group of ladies over from church.

I snuck into Mini Martha's room and started rifling through her dresser drawer. I pulled out the bag o' pads and tore the backing of off two of them.

I went downstairs with these pads ... one on the front and one of the back of my neck ... and proceeded to go into the living room where my mother was entertaining her company.

I stood in the middle of the giggling group of women and blasted out my question:

Why does MM have all of these neck pads in her drawer?

My mother's face was almost draimed of all color. She escorted me out of the room, ripping the pads off of my neck, and shooing me back upstairs.

We had a miniature schnauzer. He had this bad habit of getting excited when people laughed.

So he immediately ran around in the gaffawing circle of women and peed on the floor.

I don't remember too many more of those meetings held at our house.

Just nothing today ....

2007-09-20T06:33:00.000-04:00

Nothing at all.

No wit. No charm. No condescending remarks.

Just ... nothing.

Maybe that's better than something.

Move over, Mom

2007-09-18T22:26:00.001-04:00

There's a new woman in the Man's life.

Last year, it was Allison. She had the hugest crush on the Man. She would smile shyly at him and say hello. We saw her at the pool this summer for swimming lessons, and she was so excited to see him.

Now they aren't in the same class anymore.... I was kinda sad about that.

But life is going on. New love is in the air in the first grade room.

And that love is called Eve.

And for my near and dears, this is the child of the woman who I had words with at the very first Vacation Bible School Extravaganza. You all know who I'm talking about .... the one who was all ticked off at me because she can't read a clock to tell time.

And it looks like we are practically family. I can't WAIT for the wedding.

And it was Eve who made the moves on the Man. She asked him yesterday to be her boyfriend.

And like any good boy would, he said "yeah."

This, of course, was the boy who came home last night from his first Scout meeting with mosquito bites all over his face. Because apparently he can't swat them away. It is a whole lot cooler to stand there with about five feasting on your cheeks.

This is also the boy who came home today with maple syrup all down the front of his shirt as he matter-of-factly states "oh yeah.... I dropped it on me."

But I am hoping his judge of character is a lot stronger than his inability to fend off blood-sucking insects and dodging 4 oz souffle cups of maple syrup.

Because life wasn't exciting enough....

2007-09-18T06:56:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, the Monkey and I went to The Walton Trust Fund for some items. Sorry Sue..... I can't help myself. I have to go there. If you don't read Sue's (The Mind) blog, you should. She is HIlarious ... and her viewpoints on Wally World... priceless!

So we were done shopping and loading our things into the van. And the phone rings.

I have ringtones for a select few. I know I have talked about them before ... the Mominator has The Godfather. Mini Martha has The Odd Couple.

I really should set something like The Death March to the schools' ringtones.

It was the Queen's school. And not just the secretary .... the dreaded SCHOOL NURSE!

Waiting to hear that the Queen had a headache, or her stomach was hurting her, I stood in the parking lot, tensing up.

But it wasn't that at all. She had taken a "spill" on the playground.

Ok. Fine. This is the same child who took the header off the bus when she was in Kindergarten... that was a good one, let me tell you. So I thought "all right, they want me to talk to her to tell her to go back to class."

Nope. They had sent her back to class after icing the goose egg on her head, but she had returned, complaining of feeling "wobbly" and nauseous.

Of course, the first thought through my head was: concussion. So off to the ER we went.... the first time.

The first time, the Queen looked ok. She was perky. I thought "WHY am I here with you?!?!" The Monkey decided that riding the doctor's chair around the room was good entertainment. I thought so, too ... until she started to climb up on it. And then we were looking at a twofer visit if I didn't get her down. So she was relegated to just riding the seat around, and got a curt "get DOWN from there" when I saw her getting all Monkey-like.

The doc took a look at the Queen, felt the back of her head, said "I don't like to overexpose these kids, so I'm not going to order any scans. She is going to be just fine. I will send you home with a list of things to look for ... if you see any of those, bring her back in IMMEDIATELY!"

So we got our marching orders, and started to take off. I had given the Queen an ibuprofen. And then the games began.

She immediately stated that she felt like she was going to throw up. So she hung over the trashcan. The nurse said "well maybe she's hungry...." so she immediately handed us a package of crackers and a barf bag and sent us on our way.

We didn't even get home before the Queen used that bag.

We got home, she barreled past the Monkey in the van, ran into the house, and laid down in our bedroom with a trashcan. Which she immediately started to use.

Throwing up more than once is one of the signs.

Then she started crying that her head was hurting worse than ever.

The headache getting worse, not better, is another one of those signs.

So the ER was called, they told us to come back immediately, and a CaTscan would be ordered.

We arrived, they scanned, and we sat. And sat. And sat. And sat.

And the Queen got better. And better. And better. To the point that I kept telling her to sit down.

And I sat there, thinking that we had just wasted everyone's time.

You see, the Queen ... when she has a massive headache (we used to think it was migraines), she does this same thing. But when it is so close to a head injury, you have to wonder.

We FINALLY received the green light well over two hours after the scan, rushed off to get the Monkey from dance class so Ace could take the Man to his first Scout meeting, and promptly ran through Taco Bell, where the Queen ordered a Nachos Supreme and a soft taco.

And she snarfed those down like they were being taken away from her at any minute. And threw a fit that her brother was wearing one of her shirts (that was MY fault ... shoot, it was gray), and had gotten a stain on it.

So I would say we are in the clear.

For another day, of course.

Mystic Pizza

2007-09-17T07:17:00.000-04:00

Last Friday, we decided to treat ourselves to our local pizza joint.

And the nightmares ensued.

The Queen came back at 12:30 *we were still awake* to report that she had had a bad dream. We are trying to break these kids of this habit. Stay in bed, dude. Don't come back to report a bad dream, only to say "I can't remember it ...."

Then the Monkey started SCREECHING at 1:30. As Kendra and I share the same fear of reaching the room to only see that they are lying in some pool of sick, I ran up to her room.

Bad dream. About a "disgusting hand." Not sure about that one. Quieted her down. Back to bed.

2:10 ... same thing. SCREECHING at the top of her lungs. She had had the same dream, and was begging to come back to our bedroom. I told her no. Yes, I'm heartless. But I don't like to start a bad habit with this one when I didn't allow with the other two. She finally settled back down, and I went backt to bed.

We woke up around 7 with the Monkey wake-up call. She started reporting her bad dream. Something about a doll that actually pooped and had spit in it. And it choked. And it died.

Sweet.

Then Ace revealed that he had had a dream (didn't say it was "bad") that our whole family was being hunted down by some bounty hunter.

And then mine revealed itself. I was in our van and accidentally ran off the road. I was caught inside and ended up swallowing some nasty river water (see something, here?). I went to Dr. McGeeky, and he lovingly told me that I was going to die. That was impossible, I thought. I felt just fine. He said "you will follow this downhill trend that will end up with high blood pressure. That is what you will die from."

So I frantically started to take care of loose ends. But I couldn't believe that I was going to die. I kept calling McGeeky to tell him I didn't think i was going to die. He said I would. And then I started to cough up blood. And I started to cry.

And that is when the Monkey woke us up.

I saw McGeeky at church yesterday morning when he and Ace were picking up the kids, and I informed him that I wasn't too happy with him as he had to break the bad news to me that I was dying ... in my dream. He made this face and said "I'm so sorry."

I mean ... the man apologized for coming into MY freaked out dream ... I told you he is a cutie.

And then, with the unerring ability of always knowing the right thing to say, he said "you know, my oldest has said that the only time that he has a bad dream is after eating pizza."

Starting off on the wrong foot

2007-09-14T07:22:00.000-04:00

This was the first week of school for the kids.

The Man, of course, had his applesauce encounter on Wednesday. By the way, the shirt returned home yesterday. So I will release the Canada shirt.

The Monkey had a little cry on Wednesday because she missed me. She did let me know that her teacher is "soft" like me. Great. But the good thing is, that teacher is a tall beanpole. So there is some hope.

And the Queen ... well, she was doing good until yesterday when she announced that she would be moved to yellow (they have a green/yellow/red/blue behavior system at school) if she didn't return her forms.

Yellow? Automatically? That didn't seem too fair. So I asked her if her teacher said that, or she was coming up with that on her own. She said the teacher didn't say that. But she said that the teacher did single her out, in front of the whole class, and announced that SHE was the only one who had not returnedher school forms.

This ticks me off. There is nothing that I can't stand more is public humiliation. If you don't have the forms, and it isn't the CHILD who fills those forms out in the first place, do NOT call the kid out as if she is some common criminal in front of a class of students she is JUST getting to know. She is timid enough as it is. This is really not acceptable.

So I wrote "the" note. The note that says something to the effect of so sorry for the inconvenience of not getting the forms turned in, but the last time I checked, that was a parent responsibility. If she needed to communicate that with ME, then she should have CALLED me or sent a note home.

Doesn't take much effort to write a note ... hey, loser mom in a class of overachieving parents, where in the heck are those forms for your deadbeat kid?

I used the words fault and blame a few times ....

Starting the school year off well with this one, I think.

This will probably overshadow the time when the Queen's looping teacher for 1st and 2nd grade asked me if I was the Queen's grandmother.

A convo at our house

2007-09-12T23:14:00.000-04:00

Noting that child # 2 is wearing a foreign-looking t-shirt.... a hockey player with "Canada" written at the top of the hockey player logo.

Noting that child # 2 has never been to Canada....

Hey .... what's different about you?

What?

Yeah.... what?

What what?

What is that you are wearing?

A shirt.

I can see that. What shirt is that that you are wearing?

A Canada shirt.

Yeah. Been to Canada today, eh? Been up in Windsor gambling?

Huh?

Never mind. Why are you wearing that?

Oh yeah. I got it from the school nurse.

{insert thought here} School nurse and new shirt.... not a good sign.

Why?

When I was opening my strawberry applesauce, I spilled it all over the front of me.

Ok. Well, where is your brand new, long-sleeved John Deere shirt that Nana got you for your birthday?

It's in my backpack.

{feeling inside his backpack} Are you certain about that?

{digs around himself} No. Oh yeah. I must have accidentally dropped it at school.

{thinks how do you accidentally drop something and not realize that you have dropped it and think to yourself "self... you dropped that ... pick it up or your mom is gonna whip your a$$"} Dropped it, huh? Where?

I don't know. But the school nurse said I could keep this shirt.

Boy ... it ain't no t-shirt trade-up program.

My 6 am dreams

2007-09-12T07:15:00.000-04:00

So ... you know I have a hard time getting out of bed. Ace's alarm goes off twice; once at 5:30, and the other at 5:35. Mine goes off at 6 am.

And I normally go right back to sleep.

And that is what I did this morning.

And promptly became the girlfriend of the college-going Peyton Manning.

And it was all good (get your minds out of the gutter; not that kind of good).

It was fun. It was fresh. It was new love.

Dudes... it was Peyton Manning!

And then I had to come back to the reality that I didn't have the body I had in that dream.

This, my friends, is the true definition of TMI

2007-09-10T22:22:00.000-04:00

An email from my MIL this evening.

Hi, how did the kids do on their first day? Hope to see some pictures soon. hint, hint

I saw the gynecologist today. I liked her a lot. I should have the results of the Pap Smear by next week.

Pardon me while I go wash my eyeballs with bleach. Maybe I can erase the image that way, too.

Remember those Staples commercials...

2007-09-10T07:36:00.000-04:00

I think they were Staples.... or Office Depot or something. The one with the kids dragging through the school supply aisle with that Christmas carol playing in the bacground ... It's the most wonderful time of the year.... and the Dad is happily throwing the supplies into the shopping cart with reckless abandon?

Yeah. That's me. And that will be me, making up those lunch boxes today and carting two of three children to school this morning. You see, the Monkey and the Queen go to schools very close to one another, but the Man goes to school a little bit away from them. So Ace and I are dividing and conquering this morning.

And then .... I will have the WHOLE house to myself for about 2 hours until I have to go back and get the Monkey from preschool.

I might ... work. I don't know. Don't hold me to that.

But I do know this: It will be quiet in here. Vewy, vewy quiet.

I am slowly moving toward that mother that I have envied for so many years ... the one who doesn't have a kid in preschool anymore. That will be me next year.

But I will relish this time. I will savor it.

Because I know in nine years, when I am rousing a senior, a sophomore, and an eighth grader from their beds, I will wish for these years to come back.

Happy First Day of School, people.

Dear (Insert Name Here)

2007-09-06T19:16:00.000-04:00

FEMA:
Thanks a WHOLE helluvalot for that $ 199.99. That will take us far, you buttwipes.

Duane, the flood insurance adjuster dude:
Just exactly WHAT do you want and need from us? You ask for a basment estimate. We give it to you. You tell me that you can't approve that, and you will need to call out a structural engineer. You know what I think? I think you KNEW that you were going to deny it the first time out, unless the estimate came in at $ 40.00 for 10 boxes of Bandaids that we would just put up on the all of the cracks in the basment walls.

And when you say things to me like "maybe I need to oversimplify this for you," you better count your lucky stars that there is one whole state between you and I. Because I guarantee you that if you were holed up in some hotel somewhere in this town, I would hunt you down and let out all of the air in your truck tires, and scratch "I still live with my mother" in the paint of your truck.

Smart choice in calling MY HUSBAND back when you needed to discuss the apparent "miscommunication" between myself and you. Don't even think about calling ME to talk to ME about this alleged miscommunication. Because you know what? I never miscommunicate. I listen and I actually have a brain that processes that information that I take in. If you think that I am some ditz of a woman who can't formulate a sentence without looking to her husband for guidance, you have another thing coming.

You better pony up the money that is needed to place us back in the same position we were in before this flood. Because I sure as heck know that I had a furnace and an air conditioner that actually worked before the water entered my basement, and I also know that it wasn't quite so bare down there.

My fellow city residents:
If you don't have anything nice to say in the newspaper, don't say anything at all. Thank you to the gentleman who wrote in his scathing letter to the editor regarding the people who should be "taking care of themselves" and purchasing flood insurance, and not relying on the federal government to bail them out. Guess what? Those people didn't call in FEMA. The river called FEMA in after the channels were followed and all the paperwork was submitted. If FEMA is there for people, then let them ask for the assistance.

Because that $ 199.99 is taking me all the way back to a house that is going to be fully repaired.

Wow... where IS your mother?

2007-09-05T21:06:00.000-04:00

Tonight was the first night of our Kinder Choir program. Of course, yours truly is the leader. I was prepared for about 10 kids because this is the first week back, there was no programming for the kids afterward, and with the flooding and school being pushed back to next week, I didn't think we would have many.

We had five.

And four adults.

And one of those five decided that she would be a pain in EVERYone's ass tonight, including mine.

WHERE is this child's mother? I can't believe that let her ACT like that. Look at her, shaking her head defiantly, even after the leader told her to stop. A number of times.

I had to put that child in TWO times out. She was the ONLY one who had to go into time out. The others were playing nicely and singing. This one. Man.

I felt sorry for her parents because this is obviously a problem child. She was such a smart a$$. I needed to have a conversation with her parents when they came to pick her up.

The end of our time together neared, and I couldn't WAIT for this kid to be picked up. I was looking forward to my time in ADULT choir. Thank goodness I wasn't taking that child home with me.

I waited patiently for her father to arrive.

And I had a talk with Ace about putting that child in her room when they got home, and her mother would deal with her later.

To My Little Man

2007-09-04T20:04:00.000-04:00

Seven years ago tomorrow, I checked into the hospital early in the morning to be induced. At 5:35 pm, you came into this world after having literally slid out of me. You, little man, by far, were the easiest birth.

We have had our ups and downs with you, health-wise. When the peditrician said "it could be cataracts or it could be neuroblastoma," I didn't know where to turn. I fell to my knees and I prayed like I had never prayed before. I could handle cataracts. I couldn't handle neuroblastoma.

Not that cataracts was a wonderful diagnosis, but I could handle it. I could handle knowing that you needed surgeries to correct the problems. I could handle putting contacts in your tiny little eyes, spending countless hours on my hands and knees, scouring the floors for lost lenses. And there were many.

We then had to address the appearance of seizures. I couldn't believe that you had to deal with that after having had to deal with the eye issues. When a diagnosis of epilepsy was returned, and when we decided to not medicate you, we trusted that God would handle everything. And He did. You didn't need medication, and if we had medicated you, we would have thought it was the medication that had "cured" the seizures and not just you having grown out of them.

You have been a complete joy. You have the ability to make someone smile with your grin. You love to build with Legos. You love to make things out of ordinary items .... give you a box, and you have a play thing for at least a month. And paper .... boy. I have never seen someone love paper so much.

You love your months, you love your days, you love to learn. You love going to school. You love art. You love social studies. You are a sponge, little man.

Life would be boring without you. We need to have laughter in this house, and you provide that for us. You have the ability to crack us up at a moment's notice. You make us think of a good answer when you ask "do we breathe in heaven?"

You are convicted in your beliefs. I am proud of the son I am raising. I am proud of the little man who has emerged, and I look forward to meeting the young man who will replace that little boy.

But for right now ... this moment ... I will hold on to that little boy for just a little while longer. For as long as you will let me.

Happy Seventh Birthday, Little Man

Shhhh.... what's that I hear?

2007-09-03T20:44:00.000-04:00

We were sitting in the house, listening to the news helicopters flying overhead. We had called our rescue call in earlier in the morning, wondering when they were going to come and get us.

We sat around. And sat around. We heard the occasional sound of what sounded like an airboat off in the distance. The Queen had romantic visions of being carted out of here on some cool boat. I told her that it probably wouldn't be a boat, but some other vehicle that could make it down our street.

Around 3:30 in the afternoon, I heard something. I ventured out into the knee-deep water in my driveway, and saw our salvation.

And then had a panic attack.

It was a city dump truck.

An orange city dump truck.

With a police officer asking me if we wanted to be rescued.

Well.... let me ponder that. Six feet of water in the basement. The river hadn't "officially" crested yet. Kids on our nerves. No power. Hotter than he**.

Yeah. I think we'll hitch a ride.

So I thought this was our rescue. I thought this was what had been called in for us.

And I was thinking "someone has an innate nasty sense of humor somewhere in this town."

They weren't letting us sit in the cab. That seat was already taken (and rightfully so) by our elderly neighbor, Lily. Jack, her husband (a spitfire of a little man) was already in the back of the dumptruck with their two cats and two dogs. They had water in their house. Our next door neighbor had water in his, too so he was on the back of the truck already.

We carried the kids out. The Monkey didn't want to let go of me, but I assured her that nothing would happen to her. I was more worried about the kids getting out. A nice gentleman carried the Man, and Ace carried the Queen.

It was then time for my fat rear end to hoist itself up into the truck. THAT was a definite sight to behold. I felt sorry for the man on the behind duty. Really, it is a memory I have blocked out of my mind, and I can't remember the specifics on it anymore. But I DO remember thinking .... hmmmmm. Diet anyone?

And my father ... well, my father wanted to "stay behind and watch the house."

I told him under NO circumstances was I leaving the house with him in it.

I had these visions of that old codger character in all those disaster movies ... the one who doesn't want to leave. Harry Truman didn't want to come off of Mt. St. Helens. Linda Hamilton's mother in law didn't want to come off the mountain in Dante's Peak. That stupid policeman who thought it would be better to trek out with a group of stupid people in the middle of that snowstorm in Day After Tomorrow. That stupid meterologist who was sucked up into that F5 on Twister.

I knew the real reason he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to leave his car in the street.

I started yelling at him to leave my house, and that I wasn't leaving him behind. I was going to tell the police officer to arrest my Dad for trespassing if he wouldn't come willingly.

FINALLY my father saunters out of the house. Do you know why he took so long? He had to change his PANTS and his SHOES before he left. Priss.

And then we were off. In the back of a dump truck that had served its life as an asphalt truck. The kids were having an awesome time.

We saw a lot of people getting rescued, under water, pumping water out of their houses, and just basically trying to understand the whole thing.

And then ... there were the picture takers.

The ones whose houses weren't underwater. The ones who wouldn't have to return to those houses to assess the damage done. The ones who thought it was "cool" to see what all the fuss was about.

And they took pictures of the poor evacuees in the back of a dump truck, driving down our main street. And business was ... usual. People were driving around that end of town like nothing was happening. Like it was a minor inconvenience that they couldn't get downtown and on to the other side of the river, but if they needed to do that, they could just take the interstate bridge, which was the ONLY passable bridge over this river.

I think that was the hardest part of that day ... to see and hear of people who were just going about their business like nothing had happened. We were stuck in a house with water in our basement. We were without power from the early morning hours. We had to be pulled out of our sleep at 4 am to deal with water rushing into our house at a rate that scared the crap out of us, wondering if we would need to evacuate completely since we live in a ranch house.

Time will heal the wounds of losing a lot of stuff. Memories will fade of this event, and I can only hope that the kids escaped this whole thing without feeling the panic their Dad and I felt that morning when we thought we were about to lose the whole thing.

Once we left in the dump truck, we were told by our neighbors across the street that 10 minutes later, the Queen would have received that romantic rescue of firemen coming to our aid in their boats.

Oh well. Maybe next time.

Clean Sweep, Mother Nature Style

2007-09-02T16:46:00.000-04:00

We have gone from this:

To this:

Unfortunately, we had too much of this:

It was hard to see this:

And I wish it didn't take this to kick us in the butt to get it out:

LIke Dorothy says...

2007-08-31T10:07:00.000-04:00

There's no place like home.

We have returned. The basement is totally gutted. We are waiting for the FEMA representative to arrive. We have to unpack, and then decide if we are going right out to buy a washer and a dryer.

Good times, people. Good times.

More later after FEMA tells us they have no money for us.

Things I never thought I would learn (or have to learn)

2007-08-30T08:09:00.000-04:00

1. FEMA ... knew the name of the organization; never thought I would actually be in a close working relationship with them.

2. The American Red Cross is about more than blood donations. They bring water, mops, Clorox, cleaning supplies, and respond to disasters like nobody's business. Unfortunately, I think it is all in response to poor response to the Katrina victims.

3. Flood insurance ... get it. If you are near a creek, a river, or a lake.... GET IT!!! There are so many people in this town who thought they had it, but didn't, or didn't get it and wish they had.

4. Kids and elevators .... they are all the same. I wanna push the button; no it's MY turn; no it's MINE!

5. You can swim more than once a day if it keeps the kids happy and wears them out.

6. No matter how old your furnace is, don't become too attached to it. Ours was only one year old (just celebrated its birthday last month) and it is meeting its demise as I type this.

7. If you can, don't put all of your mechanicals in the basement.

8. There are a lot of washers and dryers out there to choose from.

9. Neighbors you thought stayed to themselves really do have hearts of gold. And when you make fun of the Neighborhood Watch program man, don't. He has a heart that is deeper than any ocean, and is genuinely concerned about everyone in his 'hood.

10. No matter what, if you think you have water in your transmission line, DO NOT start your car. Our next door neighbor made that mistake, and toasted his Honda.

11. And a note to our choir director: don't ever ask me for an update in choir. If you have a schedule to keep, that is.

Tomorrow, maybe, I will tell the story of a trip in the back of the city dumptruck ....

Just a litte update

2007-08-29T08:00:00.000-04:00

We are still hoteling it. We have the basement all cleaned out, and the plumber is coming in tomrorow to insall the hot water heater.

We have had the fight of our lives with the mortgage company and the flood insurance company. That is a whole post in itself. This morning, we should be good to go so we can get a gosh darn flood adjuster out to our house.

I think we have some nastiness growing under our bedroom. We have that flexible dutwork under there, and the water totally saturated it. So we know there is the possibility of black mold growing in there. The plumber/HVAC people are going to take out that ductwork, as well as remove our furnace.

The basement looks like a veritable no-man's land. No walls. No possessions. Just a broken hot water heater, furnace, and a sink that needs a good washing down.

We have learned a lot about community in this past week. It is hard to believe that just one short week ago, we were on pins and needles, watching the water rise in our basement. It is definitely a flood for the record books. Everyone has a story or two to tell. The hardest part now is seeing everyone's life out on the curb. And what pisses me off the most is as soon as you throw something out there, there are gawkers, looking through your stuff, seeing if there is anything the could salvage and make their own.

Sure people ... have the freak at it. it sat in sewer-infested, nastiness for over 36 hours. But its ALL yours.

Our thank you card list is growing longer. I need to really start writing them.

Thanks to you all for your well wishes. One day, the posts on here will return to their lightness and humor.

But for now, it is real life that is weighing the family down.

Later, dudes.

Dear Nationwide Flood Insurance Department

2007-08-27T22:33:00.000-04:00

Get your fu88ing act together.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

A VERY disgruntled insured who KNOWS you have her escrow monies for that flood insurance policy and KNOWS you are playing some sort of mind game with her.

Watch out, Nationwide. Watch out.

Wish you were here

2007-08-26T15:37:00.000-04:00

Dear Grammy:

We are having a swell time here in Findlay, Ohio. We have been swimming and playing in our hotel room and eating out of the vending machines.

Did we tell you that the first hotel kicked us out, even after they had told us that we could just add on to our stay if we needed to? I guess those Allstate insurance adjusters were just more important than our family.

Mommy and Daddy have been working tirelessly making phone calls and trips to the house. I have even heard Mommy say a few times that she is having a wonderful time. I don't know if she is being serious or not.

Yesterday, our Nana came to get us so Mommy could direct the crew from church while they threw away half of our possessions in a dumpster. It really is kinda cool to see everything that we had stored in the basement being chucked into a metal container.

The flood was really cool. We were rescued by a big orange dumptruck. Mommy made some comment about her coming into the white trash world in style. I have no idea what she was talking about.

So we will be staying at a hotel for another night, and then we have to find a new one because they might not have enough room for us tomorrow night, either. These darned out of town carpet cleaners and disaster response people. They are ruining my vacation.

I sure am sorry you haven't been here to see all of this. I sure hope that you enjoyed your anniversary trip to Dale Hollow. I know that Daddy really misses you, and wishes you could be here, but he understands that you have your priorities.

I have included some pictures from the fun days we have had. I sure wish you could have seen it all ... but I understand that your husband is more important than us.

I can't wait to see you in a day or so .... sorry to hear that your car broke down after your anniversary trip and before you could get up here. I'm not sure what she meant, but Mommy said that karma is a bitch.

Love, Queen Bee.

Flooding SUCKS!!!!

2007-08-23T19:26:00.001-04:00

We are displaced, but we are safe. We are staying at an extended stay hotel (to maintain the sanity of ALL involved). We had to be rescued yesterday afternoon.

We had a total of 6 feet in our basement of nasty sewer water. Sweet.

Pics and stories to come later. We don't have power at the house, and I am not sure what the hotel's situation is with computers. But believe you me, there WILL be stories, people. Stories galore.

And pictures. Did I mention that?

I love the smell of river water at 4 am

2007-08-22T04:57:00.000-04:00

Last night, we had an overnight guest. My Dad had to stay with us because of the flash flooding that occurred yesterday. It was one of those really weird ones ... the places where there is normally water had none, and places that didn't normally have it had it. All over.

My sister was on her way home and had to park her car at a rental house about a mile from hers because of the sheer amount of water that had taken over her road (also my parents' road). She had to walk home. She was facing seeing that water come into her house. My mother called for a prayer request.

Guess what I forgot to do?

Yeah. God has a memory, people.

Because guess what WE have POURING into our basement now. You got it. A river. A freaking river. And I'm not exaggerating. Since my Dad came back here to wake us up an hour ago, that water level has gone up a foot. And it KEEPS coming in. Because we live in an old house. And we have crappy basement windows. And who knows where ELSE this crap is pouring in from.

Robin ... if you read this this early, and were planning on making it to the Center.... just plan on having the day off, sweetie. Because you ain't getting to work. And Dale, if you were planning on it .... have another cup of joe. Because you would need to get here on a boat.

I have NEVER seen it like it. Never.

Last night ... remember that God memory thing of which I speak .... well, last NIGHT I was just commenting on the fact that we have NEVER had a problem with water here. You would have thought I would have learned my lesson that once you give something lipservice, BANG! Instant whatever it was you were bragging about not having to deal with happens to you.

My only fear is that we don't become those people that have to evacuate to the top of the roof and wait it out because we live in a ranch. There's no extra floor here. I am hoping that I STOP seeing that damn murky water rise up those basement stairs.

Ace is outside, packing the windows with ... shoot, I don't know what. We need sandbags. Of course, we don't have them. And when we we to bed last night, this wasn't even a threat. No sign of it whatsoever.

I feel sick to my stomach about the whole thing, but these things are just possessions. We have flood insurance for this very reason. I just hope that the safety of my family isn't compromised. I mean, if we could get out anywhere, I would have us holed up in a hotel, waiting this out.

The person I feel the worst for is my Dad. Nothing like coming to your daughter's house to escape the floodwaters of your road only to be met by the river across the street. You would have thought it would have been the other way around, huh?

And his prized $ 35,000 Volvo SUV is sitting out on the road.

Pray for us, if you do that. And don't say "ok" and not do it. I'm warning you.

Those dreams again

2007-08-21T07:12:00.000-04:00

This morning, I had another dream.

This one had my husband and I driving down to Tennessee for some meeting that I had to attend. There was a point in time when tornados were touching down all around us, but they were wispy looking. Nothing serious. He and I traded places (he was driving but got tired), so we traded.

Then we stopped at a cheesy hotel. The kids were with us.

We started off the next morning, and it was Robin with me instead of Ace. She watched the kids for me as I attended a meeting on top of a mountain in the Smoky Mountains.

Robin didn't want to stop; she wanted to drive all the way back home. So we started off.

Then Ace slammed my chair into my desk, woke me up, and that was it.

Didn't I take an oath that I would wake up when the alarm went off?

Thought so.

As if he could endear himself ANYmore to me

2007-08-19T16:43:00.000-04:00

It is no hidden secret: I have a crush on my doctor.

Yes. THE doctor.

There is just something so ... geeky ... and confident about him.

There is nothing sexier than geeky confidence to me.

Maybe that was what attracted me to Ace 17 plus years ago....

Friday was THE day. The DREADED day.

Cortisone shot day.

It started off like any other. I tried to push the shot back into the deep recesses of my mind. I succeeded for a while.

The Mominator had compounded the problem Wednesday night with this conversation:

Ring ring ...

Hello?

Hey... what are you doing?

Working. What are you doing?

Well, your sister and I were talking about this shot ....

Now let me insert into this conversation this observation: if you are contemplating or are getting ready to have some medical procedure done, if the Godfather music rings on your cell phone, don't answer it. Not only is the tone ominous, but so will the ensuing conversation be. Because SOMEone SOMEwhere has been doing some thinking ... some horrid thinking ... of everything that could POSSIBLY go wrong with a medical procedure.

This is what had the Mominator so freaked out:

She was afraid that my doctor, Dr. McGeekybutwithalotofconfidence, would have NO idea where to inject this shot.

She thought that Dr. McGeekybutwithalotofconfidencethatmakeshimsexierthanhe&& had no concept of human anatomy.

She thought that Dr.McGeeky was going to "put this shot in the already compromised hip joint" and was going to cripple me for life.

Ok. See that "flaming red" area. That is the bursa sac that covers the femur. That is what has been inflamed on me. That LITTLE thing is what has caused me a great many day of pain. It has caused me to walk completely different, to the point of now having to retrain my muscles to work in the correct manner.

Ok ... move up a little bit. See there in the middle ... up above the femur. The hip joint.

This is where my mother, the woman who knows absolutely NOTHING about anatomy, the woman who, during Jeopardy screamed out "JEEBIE!" to the question "He Bee" (that was DRONE, mother), the woman who called the 80s boy band Medudo, the woman who thought that she smelled the grapes in the grape arbors that we were passing in New York, with the windows completely rolled up, when, in fact, it was my grape Bubble Yum gum .... oh where was I? Oh yea ... this is where my mother thinks that Dr. McGeeky is going to inject this shot.

She exclaimed that she was going to ask my father about it (my Dad, as you might remember ... or you don't remember ... but just ... remember, ok? was a mortician). And my Dad made the unfortunate decision of coming home. Right then.

I'll talk to you later. Click.

I didn't hear another word from the woman until she came over to watch the kids, and only then she said "good luck."

When the nurse came in with the first shot, I about fainted. It was huge. I thought she was planning on shooting a horse with it. Dr. McGeeky said "oh no ... not that one. I need the (insert dr. jargon here) needle."

I didn't look at that needle. Because that was when I had to drop my drawers.

Did I mention yet that I had totally forgotten about the underwear factor when I got ready that morning? And it wasn't until I was getting ready for bed that night that I realized I almost chose the HORRID looking underwear, but instead grabbed the second most horrid looking pair that didn't have any holes in them.

I pulled my pants down, he put a paper drape over me, and he told me I would feel a big bee sting.

This man ... works wonders with a needle. Because that bee sting felt like a pinch, and I felt the sensation of him moving the needle around. That. Was. It.

It was a wonderful experience. I was expecting to be in excrutiating pain, but I wasn't.

I was glad that Ace had taken me (he didn't go into the inner sanctum of the exam room ... I will tell later of Ace's foray into the world of epidurals) because I felt a little "funky" on the way home.

Yesterday, it was a little touch and go. I was still feeling the stiffness. But Doc told me that I wouldn't feel the full effects of the cortisone until today.

And boy do I. I am no longer hobbling around like some geriatric patient.

So this is why I have MORE of a crush on McGeeky ... he pulled my pants down, looked at my ugly underwear, bragged to his nurse about my singing ability, and he didn't hurt me. What more could you ask for in a man?

Oh yeah... and he made the Mominator look like an idiot.

Those phone calls you hate getting ... and a phone call you don't expect to get

2007-08-16T20:28:00.000-04:00

The Godfather theme rings on my cell phone. It is more ominous than normal...

Hello mother.

Have you talked to your sister?

Earlier this afternoon... why?

Have you talked to her since her accident?

WHAT?! WHAT ACCIDENT!

Well, I don't know .... I was outside when she called on her cell phone. She said she was hit when someone turned right in front of her. Dad is taking her to the ER. She has a cut and a bump, so she's going to get checked out.

My poor sister. When she was on her way home from visiting me when the Queen was born, she and my niece got into a pretty bad, one-car accident. She hydroplaned on an exit ramp and smashed her backend (thank goodness) into a cement girder. The car was totalled.

This car that she was in yesterday ... the car she got to replace the one she totalled. And she owned it. And now she doesn't anymore.

My Mom called back to let me know she had talked to my Dad, who said Mini Martha was being checked out, and was "checking out ok." She was set to be released soon.

I was in the bathroom, getting ready to go to teach class last night and my phone rang again. I was hoping it was the Odd Couple theme (MM's music). It wasn't.

It was My Old Kentucky Home.

You got it .. my MIL was calling.

I handed the phone over to Ace. And here's how the one-sided convo went.

Hi there. Pause. Well, from what we know, she has a cut and a bump, but is still in the ER..... LONG pause. How did YOU find out about her accident?

It seems that my MIL loves to troll the online version of our local paper. And they had ALREADY reported my sister's accident (along with my sister's age ... we laughed about that later).

So when I finally reached MM, who was walking out of a grocery store with her pain med Rx, I told her that my MIL sent her best wishes.

MM about peed her pants.

WHAT? How did SHE find out?

So I read her the newspaper blurb. And she found out more about the girl who hit her ... like how she is 17, only had her learner's permit, and was driving without her required licensed driver.

All in all, the accident was not too serious, but from the looks of MM's car, it was REALLY serious. Her car is toast, and she is bummed out about that.

And as for my MIL and that online newspaper thing .... remind me to never do anything that will get me landed in the Daily Docket.

It's like they are speaking to me, man

2007-08-15T21:23:00.001-04:00

To my dear friends who remember the 80s and can't get out of them (like me)....

Dreams

2007-08-15T07:17:00.000-04:00

I have openly declared to Ace that when I wake up at 6:15, I need to get my butt out of bed as opposed to going back to sleep.

Because for the past two mornings, I have had my freakiest dreams during those 45 minutes.

Yesterday morning, it was a repeat of a dream that I really should have analyzed. I go up in the elevators of one of the Twin Towers. I just go up and up and up. I know that something bad is about ready to happen, but I don't get out. Sometimes, the elevator is going down and the cable snaps ... at like floor 80 something. And I don't make it to the end of the dream on those. Sometimes, when I am going up to the 100th floor, the door opens up directly to the outside. And some of the people just get out and fall.

I think 9/11 haunts me more than I ever let on.

Then this morning, I was supposed to be at a meeting about getting a new roof on a bank where I worked. I couldn't make the meeting, so Ace went in my stead. He was supposed to text me, but he didn't get around to it. Then I was supposed to go the meeting. I went on to the meeting, and that is where it all went wrong. I turned into an otter, and I was supposed to be meeting a doctor at a lake.

I had already met this dr once. He showed up, gave me a shot in my now human leg, and he wouldn't take it out. He kept pushing it in. Then I knew he wasn't going to help me, he was going to hurt me.

So I got out of the water (I was human then) and he and I struggled with this needle. I ended up stabbing him with it, and he deflated to this little toy thing. I stepped all over him, thinking I had killed him. He came back to life.

Then I was on a spaceship and the toy thing turned into a cat that I ended up shoving into an airlock and opening it up into space. I could SEE the cat hanging on to the spaceship. I wasn't going to open the door.

And then I woke up.

Freaky, freaky dreams. Always had them. Always will.

Making a choice

2007-08-14T07:16:00.001-04:00

Blog or finish up a 50 page case.

I think work wins out this morning.

Have a good day, y'all!

The new toy

2007-08-13T07:05:00.000-04:00

Meet the new toy.

Ace decided that we both needed cell phones. He also decided that we needed to switch from Alltel to Verizon. He also decided that we should shut off our landline, and just use cells completely. This last one scares me a little. I am not sure if I am ready for that, especially since MY number will be the main number. So I will get ALL the phone calls.

Anywhere that I am. I don't know if I can be "bothered" like that, kwim?

I think that I will make HIM make HIS number be the main phone number. His comment about HIS number: don't give it out to anyone.

Really? Well, why? His number makes more sense to be the main phone number because it has the prefix of our area. Mine .. you just know it is a cell phone number.

I have been playing with my Razr since I got it. I have added some ringtones and assigned them that crack me up.

Ace is a huge fan of Led Zeppelin. I am sure I didn't spell that last name right ... and I don't care. So Ace, get over it. I decided that Kashmir needed to be his ringtone. And it sounds cool.

Robin P is Mamma Mia. We saw the musical together last year some time and every time I hear that song, I think of her.

The reason I HAD to download some tones was because I had already decided what the Mominator's tone would be.

The Godfather.

For Mini Martha, it was a tossup between Green Acres, the Chicken Dance (because you know, she's a vegan), and The Battle of the Valkyres (used in Apocolypse Now). But then I found the perfect tone ...

The Odd Couple.

I Heart Drake Bell

2007-08-10T07:38:00.000-04:00

I am MUCH too tired this morning for a witty post, and I have to get ready here in the next five minutes so I can take the Door Man to his eye dr. appointment this morning.

But if Drake Bell comes up missing and later found living with a very nice family in Ohio, don't be alarmed.

Because I want to adopt him. He is just the cutest thing.

And I might even buy his CD.

Corbin was also a cutie ..... but he moved too much for me. Drake just stood in one area, and sweated up a storm, the poor boy. That grossed our girls out.

Good.

Less competition for me.

Come on .... you all be jealous now

2007-08-09T07:57:00.000-04:00

A rite of passage is occuring this evening.

My last concert was Alannis Morissette. LOVED it. Cinci. Still remember it like it was yesterday.

Tonight, my daughter's first concert.

Corbin Bleu from the High School Muscial series, and Drake Bell, from Drake and Josh on Nick. And then some unfortunate girl thrown in there ... I don't even know her. Of course, how WELL do I know the aforementioned boys?

Ohio State Fair. 97 degree stormy weather.

Good times, people. GOOD times.

For some reason, the scene from Twister keeps playing out in my mind where they are all at the drive-in theater and the tornado hits (I say this jokingly, but there is still a tornado warning for a town directly north of us right now, and really nasty weather coming in from Indy right now).

More tomorrow, people.

Sucked into the white trash tornado

2007-08-07T23:05:00.000-04:00

Ok. Robin's post last week about Rock of Love .... and then listening to she and Jacque, the Kentucky girl who recently returned home from the North, talk about this show. I had to watch it.

I was thinking it would be one Jerry Springer episode after another.

Not quite, but pretty darn close.

I watched the last 30 minutes of the show from last week. And I got to meet some REAL characters.

My personal favorite moments were from tonight's episode when one contestant was telling Bret Michaels that she wasn't sure if she could trust him when he is out on the road.

Ok. Sweetheart, here's the deal.

He's a man who is cutting a solo album. He is using THIS show to catapult his solo album out there so he gets good playtime on it. This girlfriend thing .... whatever. I don't really see him settling down with this person who "wins" this competition.

So ... if you are looking for love, you're looking in all the wrong places.

Here's another one: Rodeo and the cry-fest. Talk about not being able to get a good read on a person other than being able to tell that they aren't playing with a full deck of cards .... well, that was about all I could get out of her.

But the best part was when she said: I love rock. I love country. That's why I wear this hat because kids love me.

Ok. What the he*&? Seriously. Did that just SERIOUSLY come out of your mouth? I think it was a good thing that Bret let you return to your seven year old son. You need to go home and work on those conversation skills with him.

Then there was the other girl ... Brandi C. ... who was booted off. And she wondered why?

I think I would THANK him for kicking me off, thanking him for finally snapping me back into my own little world of reality where I could actually step back for once and look at the prize at the end of the stick.

Dudes... it's BRET MICHAELS!

The man used to wear more makeup than me throughout the entire 1980s ... just for ONE show.

And is that EYELINER still on his eyes?

The production company says it all: it's "mindless entertainment."

Seven bottles of beer on the wall...

2007-08-06T16:20:00.000-04:00

I just returned from my doctor's office.

Yes. THE doctor. The one who was totally amazed and taken aback at my raw singing talent. LOL!

He came in, washed his hands, extended his hand to me and said "if you ever decide to cut a CD, you let me know because I will be FIRST in line to buy one."

Of course you will. Because you are just amazed and awed by the sheer beautiful quality of my voice.

I will even forgive you the nagging fact that you have now scheduled for me the administration of a cortisone shot in my left hip for August the 17th. At 3 pm.

And so after he was praising me for my vocal talent, and how wonderful it is that I have realized it for the sake of uplifitng others to God (he even THANKED me for that!), I proceeded to go out and ask his receptionist if it would be all right if I downed seven Coronas before I showed up for the shot next week.

I don't see a problem with it. Do you?

So really ... what happened

2007-08-05T19:43:00.000-04:00

during the week that I was posting about our vacay?

Ummm... really?

Nothing.

Literally N.O.T.H.I.N.G.

Well ok. Maybe not nothing. But close to it.

The older two finished out their two weeks of swimming lessons. The Man passed his level; the Queen, who does not take failure well, did not. Repeat offender, as they would say in Raising Arizona.

Ace saw The Simpsons. Said he laughed his butt off, but I haven't been threatened with hearing the funniest part of the movie yet.

Fell asleep during the last three minutes of Top Chef, so I didn't get to see who got the axe. But I know now.

Giggled A LOT on Wednesday night ... felt like I was back in college.

The Monkey and I spent some time at the park. One of those days, Queen joined us ... that will be a post in itself right there.

And the week ended with a bang when we found out that the Monkey is not allergic to bee stings.

Oh yeah, and finsihed up with one class and will be starting to teach Contract Law tomorrow night. Let the good times begin!

Sell a Cow, Make a Friend

2007-08-03T07:34:00.000-04:00

On our trips, we love to look at signs. It is really the only thing to pass the time along when you are making a longer trip with antsy kids in the car.

Oh and when I say "we" love to look at them, I mean Ace and I. The kids have to find their own entertainment. However, if they are awake, and there is a funny one, we will point it out to them.

Some of the signs and sights go over their heads, though.

Like the sign on the side of the road on I65: Used Cows For Sale.

Ace and I just got the biggest kick out of this. This elicited the standard comment: only in Kentucky.

We made the mistake of saying something to the FIL, who then took all the air out of the humor balloon. "Well, that saahhn has bin there for a whyle now." I guess when farmers have "used" their cows, they have to mark them used. Meaning: if they are a dairy cow and have reached a certain age, they call them "used."

Far be it from me to argue with a farmer. So that sign wasn't as funny anymore.

Of course, being in the start of the Bible belt down there, there are the smatterings of the Biblical billboards. One states Thou Shalt Not Kill. On the interstate. Well, I will certainly remember that one as my vessel of metal and plastic hurls itself along down these hilly roads with all these semi trucks that don't pay one bit of attention to the drivers around them until they blast their horn for 30 seconds and flip the trucker off on the way by (that wasn't me.... well, not the flipping off part).

One of my favorite Bible boards is on the way to the inlaws place ... outside of Glasgow, KY. It's that one ... you know .... submit to your husband, and all that crap. Don't get me wrong... if you are a regular reader, you know I go to church. I just don't subscribe to that philosophy.

On the flip side of that board is this one: Spare the rod and spoil the child.

So ... don't kill anyone, wives submit to your husbands, and it's ok to spank that little brat. Good deal.

A little used car dealership on the same road has some good lookin' vehicles on their lot, and their motto is "Buy a car, make a friend" and I am most sure that the small print on that signs reads "with the mechanic."

I saved the best for last ...

Come on ... say it with me now ... Only in Kentucky.

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Dead Fish

2007-08-02T06:14:00.000-04:00

I had mentioned before that I love to fish. I really do. But don't ask me to do anything other than to cast my line into the water.

Wax worms and a hook .... don't do them.

Taking the fish off the hook .... can't do that, especially when the little bugger swallows the hook and you have to get the pliers out to do a little fish surgery that never ends well.

We set off for the marina at the state park where the inlaws had launched their boat. While we were waiting on the dock, and the kids were getting MIGHTY pissed off at having to wear their life vests when they were just sitting around, we let them walk around for a while.

Now, not only do I have a fear of heights, I also have a fear that one of my kids is going to go plummeting into some body of water and not be able to save themselves. Now, the Monkey is really the only one I need to worry about. The Man and Queen can sort of take care of themselves.

So when Ace started walking around with the kids on the dock, and the Monkey kept lying down on her belly to look at the fish, I knew that something was going to happen.

See if you can tell what that is.....

Once the hat was fished out of the water, it was set to dry on the boat. It was ok.... she got over it.

We took off for a cove where my FIL wanted to find a place on the shore so we could fish. We weren't keeping anything; they fish mainly for bluegill and shell crackers, but said that the fish haven't been big enough because of the lack of rain in the area.

We found an area, put the worms on the hook, and put the old lines in. The Barbie fishing pole was the first winner of the day. That pole belongs to the Monkey. She was thrilled, as you can tell.

The Man also caught one .... I think this is a precious picture.

And what about the Queen? She is an avid fisherwoman. Always has been. She always catches the most, and she is cocky about it. We just don't take pictures of her catching fish anymore....

The first little fish that happened to be on the Monkey's hook decided that he wanted that worm, so he swallowed the whole hook. When I see that, I just say "Ace.... get the pliers" and he sets to work. I don't know if it was because they swallowed them so far, or Ace sucks at getting hooks out of fish, but needless to say there were a few unnecessary deaths that day. The Monkey's fish was one of them.

When they are so close to the bank, the inlaws just throw their dead ones up on the bank. So the FIL instructed the son to do that very thing. I guess the fish heard this, and made a last ditch attempt to return to his fish family in the water. He jumped out of Ace's hand, flopped back into the water and we all held our breath to see what happened next.

And up he floated. He was still sucking for air, but it was only a matter of time.

My FIL kept getting the oar out to shove the fish away.... but it kept floating back to us. Then the other fish started to work on it. Nobody really wanted to watch that. About the third time that my FIL shoved the fish away and it floated back to us, he decided to get a net.

And then the Monkey started to get upset.

Is .... is that fish..... DEAD?!?!!??!?!?

Not wanting her to be upset about the demise of the fish, I said "oh no, honey ... Gramps is just going to throw him out into the lake farther so he stops following us." It worked.

The Queen Who Ate the Fair

2007-07-31T22:26:00.000-04:00

After having dealt with my trip to he&& and back, AKA Mammoth Onyz Cave, I decided that whatever else they had planned for the trip I would just bow out of. I wanted to go fishing, so that was a given that I would be there for that. I actually LOVE to fish, believe it or not. But that story is for Thursday's reading pleasure.

Saturday, after getting off the boat, the inlaws wanted to go back to their house and rest for a while. Then they wanted to take the kids out to the county fair! Yeehaw!!!

I had already made the decision that I wouldn't be attending because (1) the only fair I like is our fair and (2) just the idea of spending time in the close proximity of tobacco chewers and spitters, and the crowd that was there just to see the tractor pulls didn't excite me in the least.

Ace took an oath that he would not allow the kids to eat meat at this fair. I said "whatever you do ... DO NOT LET THE KIDS EAT MEAT."

I had these visions. Visions of being stuck at my inlaws house for ONE more day while the four of them ralphed into trashcans because of some nasty food poisoning. I am NO dummy.

Apparently in Ace's mind, the oath meant NOTHING. Zilch. Nada.

Yeah yeah yeah... if I had wanted to be the control freak that we all know I am, I would have gone along. But I didn't want to go, so there.

They are gone for a good four hours, coming home smelling of the outdoors and cotton candy. They were telling me all about the rides that I would NEVER have placed my worst enemy's kids on, and then they went off to bed. They were still pretty riled up.

About an hour goes by, and I can't stay awake any longer. We head off downstairs, and the Queen is still awake. She can't get comfortable. Her stomach was hurting her. I turned and looked at Ace and asked him "WHAT did she eat?"

Knowing the Queen's penchant for junk food, I could only imagine. In the short amount of time they were there, the Queen consumed:

1. A bag of cotton candy
2. A caramel apple with nuts
3. A Sprite
4. A lemon shakeup
5. Part of a funnel cake
6. A CORN DOG

Now, the last time I had checked, the dog part of the corn dog means meat. Does it mean something else in other parts of the world that Ace has never been to? Thankyouverymuch for listening to me, dear.

She settled into my bed for the night (because, deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep down inside, I was hoping the Queen would let loose of her stomach contents on him during the night; it didn't happen that way). I went to sleep with the Monkey. Who promptly woke up. And started talking to me. At midnight.

Mommy... you sleeping with me (this time, she sounded nothing like DeNiro)? Why you sleeping with me?

Shhhhh... go to sleep.

10 minutes later: Mommy.... you still here? Why you here?

GO TO SLEEP!

Finally realizing and remembering that this child does not do well with people other than her 10,000 dolls and Barbies in her bed, I decided to leave for that lovely cot. The one that creaked like I was going to break it in half.

I try to get some sleep, but that cot is just so .... uncomfortable. It is fine and dandy for an 8 year old, but not a 37 year old. I get a little bit of sleep, but then my stooopid bladder wakes me up.

I decide that I am going to go sleep on the concrete floor that has carpet on it, otherwise known as the Monkey's floor. THAT is flipping uncomfortable. I manage to sneak back into the Monkey's bed with her, and sleep in a very precarious position for about 30 minutes.

Then she wakes up from a bad dream, and proceeds to carry on ANOTHER conversation with me. I leave for the cot again (only after having made it make a horrid sound, and the Monkey had to come out and survey whether the cot was still in one piece, as well as her mother).

The Queen gets up for the day, eats a good breakfast that her Grammy has made for her, and the proceeds to complain MORE about her stomach. At one point, she thought she was going to throw up.

So we bed her down in the back of the van, give her some trashbags, and hope for the best.

About 3 1/2 hours into the trip, she ralphs in a plastic bag. But then she is remarkably better. I guess she just needed to get it all out.

I would like to thank my husband for giving all of this to me as payback for having 4 hours of unadulterated silence.

I should have gone to that da** fair.

Conquering My Fear, One Treacherous Step at a Time

2007-07-31T07:10:00.001-04:00

It is no secret around this house (now) that I am a sissy when it comes to caves. I can't stand them. I am claustrophobic. When Ace and I were dating, he felt that he should take his time and show me some of the sights of his native state, Kentucky. He took me to Mammoth Cave, and took me on the sissy tour. I didn't have much of a problem with it, and I thought that all cave tours were that easy. I mean, it was nothing really.

So when the inlaws said that part of going to Kentucky Down Under was going to be a cave tour, I thought "ok ... I can do this. I did Mammoth Cave, for pete's sake."

This cave is also a part of Mammoth Cave, called Mammoth Onyx Cave. I wanted the kids to have a good experience, and I didn't want them thinking their Mom was about ready to go over the edge, so I bucked up, put on a good face, and said yes I would also be attending the cave tour.

We waited around for our turn to be had. Our guide showed up and said she would start us in the original area of the cave (but wouldn't go down that way). So she took us to a room with a huge hole in the ground. They had built up an area around it so people wouldn't just fall in, but I was still on pins and needles, holding onto the back of the Man's shirt for fear he would try to launch himself into this hole.

This is the hole, but from underneath.

So we start down the stairs into the cave, and the guide had asked us to not touch anything in the cave. Yeah ... ok. Whatever. I think that is a guideline, not a mandatory thing, right?

We come down the first set of stairs, and I start to look around. Ok. I can handle this. It is a nice cool area, taking us away from the 90+ weather up above with 100 percent humidity. I can handle this. There are cool things in here, like a still. Yes. A still. They hid their stills in caves.

Do you know why there is a cave called Horse Cave? Because they used to hide their horses in them. These Kentuckians... can't get one over on them.

Then the steps start.

Did I mention that I also have a horrid fear of heights, and I can't stand stairs? I always have this feeling that I am falling backwards, and I am NEVER at ease on stairs. The stairs could be two deep, and I still feel like I am out of control. And because I feel like I am out of control, then everyone around me has to be out of control, too.

We start up these stairs, in through a very tight fit. This large woman is going to HAVE to touch SOMEthing on this cave tour, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

So I make my way through this one area, physically shaking the entire time because I am CERTAIN that I am going to just go tumbling off this "stair system" they have. I wasn't sure if I was more worried about hurting myself, or embarassing the crap out of my family. Whatever it was, it wasn't a really pleasant feeling.

We reach another flat area, and look back at the stairs we just came down ... this picture is horrid. My camera was on night mode, and you have to have nerves of steel to use that setting or you get this blurring that you see.

Then the guide turns. the. lights. out.

No point of reference. Kids starting to freak out, grabbing my hand. I think "don't you DARE touch me" and then I feel like a bad mother. Did I mention that I abandoned my children on this trip? My MIL took the Man's hand, the Queen went on her own, and Ace carried the Monkey through the more treacherous areas. If I had to handle taking care of anyone else myself, I would have either cracked or done a much better job with myself.

We reached the last area of stairs where they actually gave us a handrail to pull ourselves up with. And if you saw some of those stairs, you completely understood why.

The guide HAD to point out the cave crickets. Just had to. I was ok until I realized that there were little creatures hanging over my head. I was just coming to terms with the fact that water would drip on my head with no warning. Thanks. A whole lot.

The tour FINALLY ended with the welcome sight of wooden steps, and I was finally out of there. I had to let the kids go ahead with the inlaws to the picnic area to start lunch so I could hang on Ace and have my panic attack.

Needless to say, this woman will NEVER go into another cave. Ever. Again.

The Man and the Urinal

2007-07-30T07:09:00.000-04:00

We took off from home around 10 our time, but didn't really get out of town until around 10:30 or so because we had some errands to run. The van was gassed up, the kids were snacked up and pottied, and we were all set.

The first four hours of the trip went by without a hitch. Actually, the whole trip down went without a hitch. It lulls you into a false sense of security sometimes, thinking "I could take these kids ANYWHERE!"

We stopped in Louisville, Kentucky at a Pilot gas station/truck stop.

This was a totally different world for my kids.

This place was a mecca of stuff. CBs, calling cards, a machine that you put a quarter in and put your wrist up to the machine to get a puff of cologne .. I am sure it was some goooooood smelling stuff. And showers. The girls couldn't get over the showers.

Mommy! Look. There's a ....a ... SHOWER! WHY is there a shower here?!

We head off to take care of our business. Ace went into the men's room with the Man, and the Monkey tried to follow. It took about 15 seconds of enticement and convincing that she was headed into the wrong room.

The girls and I take care of things, and come on out.

Ace comes out, shaking his head and laughing. I asked what had happened.

You know those plastic things that sit in the urinal?

Well, having never had the need to use one, .... no. I don't know what you are talking about.

Well, there is a plastic thing in the urinal that holds the urinal cake .. you know... I guess to change the water blue. So I had had my lesson in urinalogy.

And apparently I am not the only person who has never seen or heard of this plastic thing that sits in the urinal, for all to pee on.

The Man walked in, took one look at that, threw caution to the wind and PICKS.IT.UP.

Did I mention that we were in a truck stop? Outside of Lousiville, KY? On I-65?

PICKS it up.

Daddy... what's this?

He had his hands immediately washed. He peed. He had his hands washed again. And I broke out my hand sanitizer and layered it on his hands. All the while he is saying "But Daddy washed my hands TWICE already!!!!"

Well, Door Man. That could never be enough. For as long as you live.

Back... all in one piece

2007-07-29T20:26:00.000-04:00

And you have to look forward to such stories as:

1. The Man and the Urinal
2. Conquering My Fear, One Treacherous Step At A Time
3. The Queen Who Ate The Fair
4. One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Dead Fish
5. Buy A Cow, Make a Friend

Apparently I have sufficiently p'ed off my husband

2007-07-26T08:25:00.001-04:00

Mission accomplished. P'ed off husband.

The start of a GOOD trip.

So sorry that I don't get too excited about making an 8 hour trip to somewhere where they could care less if I am there.

I mean, really. Put the shoe on the other foot, will ya?

Ok. Catch ya on the flip.

T Minus One Day

2007-07-25T07:40:00.001-04:00

Well, tomorrow we take off for the Deliverance country of west central Kentucky to spend some quality time with my inlaws.

See where this is going, people?

Here's the list of fun they have planned for us:

A trip to a place called Kentucky Down Under ... WOO HOO. At least it isn't another trip to Dinosaur World. I'm not kidding ... there IS such a place. And once you have been through it once, you don't need to do it again. We've been through it... twice. And this is 45 minutes from my inlaws place.

It really is just the LAST thing I want to do when I have traveled well over 8 hours to get there to then turn around and get RIGHT back in my van and travel back the same way we came to go do things. It is just ... I don't know... asinine?

THEN we are going to spend an evening at their county fair.

That is the part that scares me the most. Deliverance country ... county fair.

And then we will spend a day on their boat, fishing. The Man HATES to fish, and the Monkey hates fish. It is an excellent combination. So keeping them entertained on a boat that has a bucket to pee in .... 100 percent pure family fun right there!

And if you are wondering, yes, Ace WILL read this post. I can guarantee it. And yes, it will tick him off. Let him get his own blog ...

I'll make you an offer you can't refuse

2007-07-24T06:39:00.000-04:00

Last weekend, we opened up our garage (and our bathroom for one patron) to the general public to come paw through our things.

Garage sales... some people love them, some people hate them, some people just have them. We fall in that last category. I am not a saler by nature. I could take them or leave them. Unless there is something at a sale that I absolutely have to have, I won't go. And I can't think of a thing that I absolutely have to have.

I just let people look around because, let's face it, people don't step on your property to get the hard sale. They don't expect a salesperson to come out and ask if they need any assistance (although we do have the occasional "can you bag that up for me?" or "can you help me carry that to my car?" questions).

However, I think we have invented a monster in one of the kids, through no direct fault of our own.

The Monkey has decided that she is going to go down the path of being a salesperson. Car sales, insurance sales, real estate agent (which runs in the blood of our family)... you name it, she will probably sell it. Or ... she might be a mob boss.

There were two lines of thought going through her head: (1) if the patron had kids, her job was to entertain those kids, or tell them that whatever toy or book they were looking at were hers and were not for sale (and then she would cross her arms and scowl at the child, hoping that the scare tactic of giving them the evil eye would scare the child away from the sale ... sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't). There was one point in time when I looked up, and she was doing some sort of dance routine in front of the open side door of a van with her very captive audience of one, staring straight out at her with a look on his face that either said "this kid is crazy" or "mother, PLEASE shut the door... PLEASE!"

OR (2) if the patron was there by themselves, she would mercilessly follow them through the garage, asking them if they wanted to buy whatever they happened to be looking at or holding.

Hey... you gonna buy that?

Hey... you wanna buy a book?

Hey ... that's my bathing suit... you want it?

A number of individuals let us know that she is the perfect salesperson. I don't know if that was a compliment or a dig. The jury is still out on that.

The best encounter went like this:

I had to tell the Monkey that she needed to stop following people around because it wasn't nice. I am sure they felt like there was a little lapdog at their heels. So she decided to sit in her chair and haggle with them.

One woman stopped to glance at the books in a Rubbermaid tub.

In her best DeNiro voice: You lookin' at my books?

Smile from the patron.

You wanna buy one of those books?

Oh no.... ummm.... I have enough of those for my ... ummmm... kids. (she was a grandmother).

Oh. Whatchyour kids look like?

The patron, probably fearing for the lives of her children and herself, scurried out to her car and made a hasty exit.

Watch out ... inflated ego ahead

2007-07-23T06:35:00.000-04:00

Yesterday in church, I had TWO ... yes, TWO solos. Two. I couldn't believe it. It was fun. I love to be in the spotlight. Yes. I do. I will readily admit it. But don't praise me because I don't know how to handle that. Seriously. I would rather just sing my heart out and have NOone say something to me, than have someone lavish me with praise.

One of the things that I love about singing (and this goes for ANYone who can sing) is the fact that people have no idea that a certain person can sing or not.

Like take Matt Powell, Robin's husband. I hear he has an awesome voice. I would NEVER expect it from him because he is very reserved and laid back. And I hear that Carly is following in his footsteps (I have heard her first-hand; she does have unbridled talent there).

This kind of stuff just makes me gooey inside for some reason. I loved Kevin Spacey before, but when I found out that he could dance, act, AND sing, I was smitten. Head over heels in love.

And Ewan McGregor. He is one of those "yeah... he's a grungy looking dude from Scotland" but then he opens his mouth in Moulin Rouge, and dude ... I am melted ice cream. I just love him.

So yesterday... now I'm not saying that I melted this person into ice cream because, well, I don't resemble Ewan McGregor at all. But today, I saw our doctor. He and his family have started to go to our church. It was a surreal experience to see him in the hallway. I felt kind of ... strange. Thank goodness I have never had to drop my drawers for the man. He is our age (later 30s) and has a drop-dead, cuter than a button wife.

I'm a SUCKER for tall men. And he is tall. And he just has this boyish quality about him. The Mominator sees the other doc in the practice, and the first time she saw our doc, she said "what's up with Doogie Howser?"

Our doc has seen our kids since the Door Man was a baby. So he has been through the Man and then the Monkey and my pregnancy with the Monkey. Needless to say, we have seen him a lot.

Now he saw ME in a different light. When we were finished singing Adonai (the feature offertory music), I walked off the platform and left through the side door, right next to him. His mouth was literally open. He just sat there and said "I had NO idea. I just ... wow. I mean.... just.... wow!"

Thank you very much. A high compliment .... and now I am a different person in his eyes. No longer am I me, the mother of the three kids who he swabs for strep tests. No longer am I me, the woman who has bursitis (who really SHOULD go back and see him again because she is in pain). No longer am I me, the one who had gall bladder problems after the birth of the Man.

I am now me, the Diva.

yeah. Right.

That time of year ...

2007-07-20T07:35:00.000-04:00

It is that time of year. Time for the annual garage sale.

They always sound so wonderful in theory, but when it comes down to it, they really are a PITA.

Like last year... we had two garage sales for some reason (well, because my inlaws wanted to haul their sh** up here and see if they could sell it because, according to my MIL, things just sold better up here... whatever).

So I guess I should shower and make myself more presentable because I can hear the worker bees out there, and if I am not out there when the Mominator and Mini Martha show up with their stuff, then my name is mud.

Later. Have a good Friday.

Pull the plug already, will ya?

2007-07-19T07:54:00.000-04:00

Last night, our choir director decided that it was a good idea to get the choir together to "touch base." It was a fine evening, filled with laughter *mostly generated by me and a few other cutups* and singing. Fine.

The only not fine part of the evening was that I had to get a sitter. No biggie, really but I hate to tell someone that they will only be there for X hours, and then it turns into Y hours because my director just can't seem to get a handle on good time management.

We were finished in choir at 8:30, 15 minutes later than we should have been. Which then put our special ensemble practice off that much more because it was supposed to start at 8:30. Of course, I have to be a social butterfly and talk to people in the hallway.

But really ... an hour and a half of practice!? Seriously. I had to call home and tell my sitter that I was going to be later, and I really hate doing that because I like to win the trust of the parent of the sitter. Of course, the mom was just fine ... she totally understood.

But you know ... it isn't like we are singing backup to Beyonce.

Where I could have been yesterday

2007-07-18T07:39:00.000-04:00

I externed at a county prosecutor's office my third year of law school. For those of you familiar with our area, it is the other county in this area that starts with the letter H.

My first day of my externship, the prosecutor called me on my cell phone, asking me if I could start the day earlier, and be at it all day long. I was all "oooooohhhh, COOL!"

So I ditched my classes that day, and joined the prosecutor. Because my first day on the job, somebody decided to end up dead in a car. And in the little town where the law school was, that was BIG news. Of course, really ... any death is big news.

This was a student of the university. And because it was a death, but presumed to be a suicide, we still had to investigate.

It was an eye opener for me. Even though it was pretty cut and dry, I had to go to the apartment of this kid and see the cats that he had left behind. I had to go to his apartment and look at the possessions that he would never touch again. No note was left.

It was, to say the least, a very interesting day. And I thought "I could do this for a living. I really could."

Then I started to get more into the nitty gritty of life and work at the office. It was a place that I willingly went. I liked the attorneys who worked there. I liked the prosecutor. And he liked me enough to offer me a position as an assistant prosecutor as soon as I took and passed the bar. But I was moving to Kentucky (because Ace was already there, working) so I couldn't ditch him. It was a sure job, though.

Do I wish I had taken it? Sometimes.

And then I listened to the radio this morning. And heard about the action in the county courthouse yesterday and wished I had been there.

Apparently, there is a man being prosecuted. He was a pastor of a church, and he allegedly did some not so nice things with 2 14 year old girls in his congregation.

When a victim impact statement was being read, this pastor's mother decided that it was time for her heart to act up. So she fell off a bench.

Mind you, I am not making light of the fact that she "allegedly" has a heart condition, according to people close to her. However, it seemed to be a little ... oh, I don't know, staged.

She is in stable condition in the hospital, so she is doing fine.

But guess what the judge said? This is a little paraphrased but...

You will be sentenced on July 26. I won't tolerate any more delays. If anyone has a medical condition, they should NOT be in my courtroom.

And this is what I could have been witnessing yesterday.

More than a village

2007-07-16T23:21:00.000-04:00

I live on a very busy street.

One of the things we didn't even think of when we bought this house was the fact that there is a business across the street, and that this street is just.... busy.

Another thing we didn't think of when we bought this house was how our fence ends right where our neighbor's property begins.

I promise, there will be cohesiveness in the end.

Since moving into this house, we have witnessed many a show here.

There were those two lesbians who stopped at our corner, and started making out. Much to the delight of Ace, of course.

Then there were those times when the business across the street would have a false fire alarm. Let me tell you, though... their response time: wonderful.

We live down the street from a home for mentally challenged individuals, so they have ambulance runs every once in a while.

Then there was that time when it was really icy out, and a cop decided that he was going to do a little Roscoe P. Coltraine.... gechgechgech... and tear down our street at over 50 some miles an hour. We weren't surprised when we heard him crash into something down the way, thereby bringing on the ambulance... again.

There was another time when the utility pole right across the street from us ... I mean, literally right across the street ... decided that it had had enough, so it snapped. And the line was down on the ground. And people just kept driving down our street. One van got zapped pretty good. It was rather entertaining.

Today was just another day ... some woman decided that she needed to break the utility pole across the street. Not the one that broke on its own... the one down from it. I have NO idea what happened ... but she RAN into it, full force. She escaped pretty much unscathed, but she did end up going to the hospital. It brought out everyone .. people were all standing around, speculating as to the cause of why she hit it. Of course, our down the street neighbor, the Neighborhood Watch Program himself, came down on his bike and uttered these words:

So. Bring me up to speed. What happened?

Just like that. Like ... he was there gathering information for a news story. I gave him what information I had, and then sent my kids inside. Once inside, I received a phone call from him. He was calling to let me know that I had it all wrong ... that she was driving westbound and ran right into the pole, as opposed to my theory that she had backed up and must have gotten the accelerator and the brake confused. Thanks, Bill. I will sleep SO much better tonight knowing that.

Of course, I did have a visit from the shoeless Robin ... she had just gotten out of the bathroom. Yeah. It brought out EVERYone, people.

They cleared everything away, but the power people were STILL working on the pole when I came home from teaching class, some six hours later.

So where does my neighbor fit into all of this?

I want to sell my house. I want to sell it badly.

My neighbor ... well, he's a piece of work himself. His favorite pastime is stand around with his shirt off, beer belly exposed, smoking a cigarette and finding SOME other way to improve his property. I am sure he just looks at our house with our swingset out back and screaming kids in the yard and wishes we would just leave.

But I have to plan these things accordingly. I need to (1) make sure that he isn't home during a showing and (2) call 911 to make sure that they don't use my street for any of their emergencies. Do you think that will work?

Because it is going to take more than a village to sell this house.

Parent Communication

2007-07-16T07:22:00.000-04:00

Yesterday morning, after church, I took the kids over to Robin's street to look at a house that Robin said is going up for sale. As we were driving there, the Man asked me:

Mommy ... are Gramps' (FIL) lungs still black?

Gramps is a smoker, ladies and gents. And someone along the way has disclosed what smoking can do to the lungs. I am not sure who that was ... the Queen blames Ace, and Ace blames the Queen. So who knows. But my six year old wants to know. I replied:

Well honey, we really don't know what color Gramps' lungs are.

Well, he smokes.

Yes. He does.

From the back: Smoking is BAD. You shouldn't smoke.

No. You shouldn't smoke, Queen. That's right.

Queen continued.

And you know what is worse than smoking cigarettes?

(fearing her response) What?

Smoking weed.

I didn't know what to say. I mean, she's going into the third grade. I need to stop being so naive. But really ... weed?

Ok. First of all, you are completely correct. Second of all, WHERE did you learn that term? Do you even know what weed is?

It is a drug.

Yes, that is correct. Who TOLD you what weed is?

Daddy.

Well now, there's a conversation that I probably should have been made aware of.

Now it is time to pay the piper

2007-07-13T07:05:00.000-04:00

During the week, I make choices.

This week was my first week back to teaching night classes.

And it has whooped. my. butt.

In the sense of my full-time job, that is.

So here I sit, with over 1/2 of my work week left and the weekend looming ahead... and I am not thrilled with myself.

If someone can find a way to squeeze another five hours out of a day, can you let me know? Because I need to figure it out. Post haste.

Have a good weekend, y'all.

I would like for you to meet my sister

2007-07-11T21:08:00.000-04:00

A friend of mine, a scrappin' sister, Wendy made the comment to me a year or so ago when we went to Crop A Doodle Do that I reminded her of someone. This is how the conversation went down.

You know what? Now I know who you remind me of!

Really. I hope it isn't someone awful.

Oh... I can't think of her name ... oh you know who she is ... that psycho woman in Misery!

Christie about peed her pants ... KATHY BATES?!?!!?! she screams?

Me ... I just sat there thinking to myself ... well, this could have gone two ways.

Hey..... you know who you remind me of? That woman from Fried Green Tomatoes ... not Jessica Tandy ... the younger one ... the funny one ... the one who took control of her life and found herself in that movie.

OR

Hey ... you know who you remind me of? That psycho from Misery! The one who hobbles poor James Caan. The one who was the nurse in the maternity ward, and she was killing off those babies. The one who pushed her husband out a window. THAT one!!!

So you can well imagine how I was feeling after that comment. It was funny ... and I didn't mind at all. Really, I didn't.

Fast forward to this morning.

Mini Martha had commented on how she thought the Monkey would love Annie. We have the remake of it (not the Carol Burnett/Tim Curry/Albert Finney version ... that one I grew up on and I LOVED it). This is the one with that dude from Titanic ... the ship's engineer ... and, you got it, Kathy Bates. As the nasty, crotchedy old Miss Hannigan.

Kathy sings her heart out in Little Girls, and the Queen looks over at me and says "Mommy!!!! You look JUST like her. But you aren't mean like that."

Like that. Like that.

Methinks there is a pattern that is emerging here.....

Blah blah blah blah

2007-07-11T07:33:00.000-04:00

Nothing new. Life is like usual... kids, work, kids, and work. Don't even really have a lot of time to knit or crochet lately.

Creative juices sucking out of my body.

Oh yeah. And the monthly visitor is here.

Maybe that is the problem. Ok. Just take "maybe" out of the sentence and re-read it.

Bleah. I HATE this time of month. I feel zapped of all energy and emotion because I used all of those emotions up the week before when I was raving crazed lunatic bi**h. Seriously. I told Ace that I do believe I have crossed over from PMS to some sort of super-heightened hormonal state ... some gargantuan mood swing state of mind that nobody in their right mind would ever choose to be around me when I am there.

Have you ever seen the Roseanne episode where they are all trying to deal with Roseanne's PMS? I remember it.... very vividly. I used to laugh about it. Now I don't.

PMS or pre-menopause, who knows? I was blessed to have started these monthly rituals at the age of nine. Nine, people. That is going on close to 30!!! years of this. Seriously, I'm done with it.

I remember when my Mom would have these terrible mood swings, and I would make flip comments like "man... are you going through the change or WHAT?"

yeah. That's not so funny now.

Whatever happened to just good old fashioned getting lost?

2007-07-10T06:52:00.000-04:00

I am starting to wonder if we, as a race, are getting to the point where we need to invent something. Just .... anything.

GPS, TomTom, On-Star ... all of these "navigational" devices. Are they for the man who loves gadgets, or are they really for the good of the human race?

Here's where I go all grandpa on you...

In MY time, we used to set out in the old Buick Limited without a care in the world. If we got lost, we got lost. It was good for some fine family entertainment.

Pull over. Ask directions.

I know where I'm going.

No you don't. If you did, we would be there already. ASK for directions.

Nope. Going to figure this out on my own.

It was the sign of a strong man who could "find his own way." Or a strong woman. Whoever was doing the driving.

It led to self-confidence.

One time, when your Mom and I were out driving around, we got so lost that I had to actually stop, grab some berries on the side of the road for us to eat, throw some dirt to the wind to figure out wind direction, and I was able to figure out which direction to go.

Of course, if you asked my Mom for HER rendition of the story, it went more like this:

We were so lost, your father finally gave in to my hour and a half worth of nagging and stopped at Stuckey's for directions.

Now there is GPS. My FIL has it. And he has been known to use it for his trips up here. Mind you, my house hasn't gotten up and moved or anything, nor have the highway departments changed the numbers on the signs. He uses it ... just because he has it. To show off.

I have been in a Caddy with On-Star. The driver wanted to show how cool the feature was, so she called it. She didn't want anything. She just wanted to show us. So I am sure the On-Star operator loved that call. And can you imagine the calls they get?

No offense to those of you out there who have these services or items. I am sure they are wonderful gadgets to have. But doesn't it kind of take the fun out of .... getting there?

I want to watch the Freakin' Lizard!

2007-07-09T07:45:00.000-04:00

To say that the Monkey is addicted to the Wizard of Oz is a serious misstatement of the facts. We don't own it. We get it from the library, but it has to be on interlibrary loan because the libraries in Ohio went to that centralized call system. So it takes a few days to get it in.

Friday was the last day for the Wizard (or the Lizard) at our house.

Friday morning, the Monkey walked in with Pink Molly, and stroking Molly's hair.

In a semi-maniacal manner, deadpan voice, no expression on her face, still stroking Molly's hair: Mommy. Do we still have the Lizard?

Me, kind of scared when we no longer have the Lizard in our house: Yes we do. Would you like to watch it?

Expressionless and emotionless, but still stroking Molly's hair: Yes.

I'm kind of scared...

Daily Docket Doozies

2007-07-07T09:05:00.000-04:00

Although none of these (except the last one) stands out as being particularly humorous, when you read them together, I think a common theme prevails.... and that is, the residents of this little town need to take some anger-management lessons.

Check it out ... keep reading for the best one... you will be rewarded. I promise. Ok ... no you won't. But it is funny.

A man was arrested for assault on Thursday after punching his pregnant girlfriend in the nose and stomach at their esidence.

Police were called to a domestic dispute on Thursday after a woman reported that her husband picked up and threw the family dog during an argument.

A man reported Thursday that an Oldsmobile struck a utility pole in his yard and drove away. He told officers he has seen the same white male hit the utility pole with his car several times in the past.

An employee at a local convenience store reported being harassed by a customer on Thursday after she told the man he would have to leave the store because he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She said the man left the building but was threatening to harm her from outside.

A man was arrested for assaulting his girlfriend on Wednesday after hitting her in the face and “headbutting” her.
Deputies responded to a domestic dispute after a man verbally threatened his grandmother.

Here's where you will be well-paid for sticking it out ...

A woman was arrested for disorderly conduct and possession of marijuana after deputies found her stumbling on a local street on Friday. When officers asked if she had money for a cab home, the woman reached in her pocket to search for money and pulled out a plastic bag containing marijuana.

Our Farmer's Market

2007-07-05T20:05:00.000-04:00

I think this is the third year for our farmer's market. It really has taken off by leaps and bounds, and I am happy for the local producers.

However, it seems to have gotten a little out of hand, customer-wise.

The whole thing is sponsored and monitored by the Chamber. Good thing. Wouldn't want just any farmer coming in to sell his sides of beef that are riddled with Mad Cow Disease or anything. But they have a very strict rule.

No selling before 4:30 pm.

They forbid it. They chastise the little old farmer who is there selling his overabundance of zucchini and summer squash, telling him that he absolutely cannot sell before they ring their little bell.

That does not, however, cut down on the people (ok... myself included ... at least THIS week) who get their stuff bagged up so they don't miss out on something before the bell rings, only to bum rush that poor little farmer when they hear the tink tink tink of the bell.

People are just rude. Downright rude. Mini Martha, the kids, and I are at a little stand with baked goods. This man .. this VERY rude and obnoxious man ... pushes his way up and freaking PINS my sister against the table. She was PISSED off.

You know where the "sought afters" are by the lines that are present, even at 4. It is atrocious.

We have our staples ... zucchini, summer squash, a tomato or two, some little red potatoes, free-range eggs, some baked goods, and then I have to go support the local young family.. the ones with the Angus beef. No hormones. Excellent meat. The best I have tasted. I started to panic when I didn't see them, but they eventually pulled up as soon as I was getting ready to leave. Got my hamburger patties (grilled those tonight ..... YUMMMY!!!!) and my chuck roast. We had their sirloin roast last weekend .... that was devoured in a matter of a day.

So my suggestion to the Chamber is this: not only enforce that 4:30 buying time, hand out brochures to all customers about exhibiting good manners. Really, it would go a long way.

All Hail, The Mayor of Chalktown

2007-07-04T22:45:00.001-04:00

When the Man and the Queen were younger (I think before the Monkey was born), I thought it would be a cool idea to get some sidewalk chalk and draw them a little town where they could drive trucks and cars around on the streets that I drew for them. So I painstakingly transformed our back patio concrete slab into a little town, with fire and police stations, a grocery store, a McDs, and a few other things.

They played with it for 3 seconds. Tops.

I was remembering that moment ... that moment when I wanted to pull all the hair out of my head. So I decided to tell the Man about much he exasperated me that day.

The look on his face ... that "ding ding ding" look. The wheels starting to turn....

And the Man became the self-proclaimed Mayor of Chalktown, complete with a Great Wolf Lodge, Calahari, Castaway Bay (Cedar Point's version of the aforementioned two), a McDonald's, Burger King, and Ace Hardware. He had all sorts of buildings, but he had no police or fire station, so he had to remedy that. I didn't have the heart to tell him that his town really is an engineering nightmare....

Stupid Decision # 1,452,600

2007-07-03T21:52:00.000-04:00

I think that count is right and accurate...

Last night, the Queen spent the night at a friend's house so I thought "Hey ... we've done it before. Let's have the Man and Monkey have their own sleepover."

Mistake. In the largest degree.

The Monkey went down in the Man's room just fine. We set her up on her own little bed area, and when the Man went to bed, she was still there in the same spot, but still awake. I thought "ok ... they will talk and goof around for a while but then.... out like lights."

Well, there was a light involved. But it had nothing to do with the kids' lights going out.

It had everything to do with the Man's light being turned on. All the time. Ace got up, took care of it, and didn't think to turn it off at the source, which is a pull knob on the ceiling fan. When I came home from getting some milk, he asked me to look down the hallway to see if the light was on again. It was, of course.

I go in and find the Monkey out of her "bed" throwing something away. This was at 10.

I turn the light off at the source.... because you know, we women have bright and only GOOD ideas, right?

I tell them, under no uncertain terms, that they needed to get to bed. Now. Stop fooling around. Go to sleep.

One hour later after watching .... ummmmm.... ok. We were watching Little House on the Prairie: Look Back to Yesterday. Did you know that Albert had a terminal illness? Did you know they don't SHOW him dying in the end? What a waste of an hour.

The Man comes out, holding his hand under his left eye.

The Monkey THREW something at me. And she peed in my trashcan.

Nice. The "thing" she "threw" at the Man: her sippy cup. While he was dead asleep. Clocked him a good one. He had a shiner this morning.

And never, under ANY circumstances, tell your "I take EVERYthing literally" child that he is going to have a black eye in the morning.

My eye is going to turn BLACK!?!?!?!?!

Peals of wailing emerge from his little body. I am sure it was extremely traumatizing to be sleeping and then have someone clock you the way the Monkey did.

Needless to say, the Monkey didn't make it to morning in the Man's room. She was promptly sent back to her room to stew about what it was she did.

I don't know what surprised me more: the sippy cup used as a deadly weapon, or the trashcan used as a toilet.

I guess she decided it was a cool place to pee, because I saw Ace rinsing her trashcan out today.

I have decided that four is NOT the best year. Who ever coined it the terrible threes was WAAAAAYYYYYY wrong. There's NOTHING good that I can say about this age right now.

Methinks the hawks are following us

2007-07-02T23:12:00.000-04:00

Tonight around bedtime, we were sitting in the living room, minus the Queen who is at a sleepover, and we hear a thud and see feathers flying.

It must just be us. And the hawks must love us.

Dinner and a movie

2007-07-01T21:44:00.000-04:00

This evening, we went out with my parents for dinner. It was just the Monkey and the Man, and Ace and I as the Queen was with a friend seeing the new Disney movie. So we head off to the happening IHOP.

When I was in law school, I was told of a tale of a fateful trip when my moot court coach's team had to take our advisor to every single IHOP from NW Ohio to Pennsylvania. I could well imagine the hell that was for them.

So we are sitting there, waiting for our food to arrive. I am talking to the Mominator, when I see it and I hear that thump sound. A bird hit the window, and met his demise. He was lying on the ground, all dead, and the Man and I had to investigate.

What IS that, Mommy?

That sound you just heard ... that is a dead bird. He ran right into this window here.

WHY? That was stupid.

Stupid is as stupid does, Door Man.

Blank stare. So ... when's he gonna get up?

Never, dear. Never. Hey .. you know what the last thing that went through that bird's mind was?

Ok. So never waste a dead joke on a six year old. Seriously. It doesn't work. I think he is just finally getting the why is there a fence around the graveyard joke. This one .... flew right over his head. No pun intended, of course.

We return to our table where the kids' meals have arrived. The Man and Monkey hunker down into their Happy Face pancakes, and I can't get this bird off my mind. The dude in a booth by the window had gotten the giggles over the whole thing. Apparently, he has a soft spot in his heart for aviary death.

I wonder ... who is going to clean that poor bird off the sidewalk? I wonder if it was a boy or a girl? I wonder if it had a family? I wonder where my food is?

My food arrived, and my simple mind is taken away to the fact that I have a double decker BLT in front of me, along with onion rings that I knew I was going to have to guard with my life before the Man, AKA Onion Boy, got whiff of them.

I start to eat, and then I see something else out of the corner of my eye.... a hawk. I guess he had just happened to be flying over the old IHOP, saw the tasty morsel on the sidewalk, and decided to take away the job of the dewy-eyed busboy who had been told that he was on bird removal duty for the evening. That hawk picks up that bird in its talons ... and lumbers off. To a not so far away lightpole. In the parking lot. Within eyeshot of all the patrons on our side of the restaurant. To eat the bird.

All the while that the hawk is chowing down, one of my queries was answered: there was a fellow blackbird, dive-bombing the hawk as it made small business out of eating that dead bird.

My kids loved it. The Man, who doesn't have great distance vision, could just see the hawk. He couldn't make out what the hawk was doing. He left that up to the Monkey, whose senses are as sharp as a whip.

OOOOOO!!!!! That big bird is sitting up dere, eating that little birdie!!!!

Needless to say, it would have been a pretty bland and uneventful evening at IHOP had it not been for the scintillating entertainment that was offered.

and a sense of style....

2007-06-29T07:21:00.000-04:00

Minus the hat, this is what she wore to bed. That would be THREE shirts, a pair of 12-18 month shorts, and leg warmers.

Timing is everything

2007-06-29T06:58:00.001-04:00

I pride myself as an individual who has a pretty good sense of humor, and pretty good timing. Am I standup material? No. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But I do love a good laugh, and I do love to make people laugh. At all times. My goal every Wednesday night is to drive the choir director crazy and crack a joke or two. Most of the time it works. Sometimes, the only person who laughs is one guy who totally gets my sense of humor. But hey ... you'll have that.

I love it when the kids have good timing, too.

Case in point: a few months ago, the Monkey decided to entertain us with her rendition of a choir song the Kinderchoir sang during their spring program. God Wants Us To Do Right ... Do Right .... Do Right. God Wants Us To Do Right Do Right Do Right Do Right. Stupid.

That was exactly what she said. Stupid. In perfect time with the song. Timing is everything.

A few weeks ago, we were eating dinner. The Man was in his usual shoveling food in his mouth as fast as it could go mode, and the Monkey was busy picking at her food and offering the evening's entertainment. The Queen had already gotten up from the table. The Monkey was doing something monkey-ish, and I told her she needed to settle down. She kept it up. I looked at her and said "you need to STOP this instant. You look like a MONKEY!"

The Man with his head in his plate, shoveling food in at a constant rate, not looking up states matter of factly ...." and you smell like one, too." Timing is everything.

Maybe I'm raising some jokesters. Maybe not. But they are trying, and I'm proud of that.

Yawn

2007-06-28T06:41:00.001-04:00

Having a hard time starting the day this morning. I have two cases to get done ... and I haven't even started on them yet.

Yesterday was .... exhausting. Just exhausting.

90+ degree weather, and I decide that the BEST time to take kids outside is at 1:30 in the afternoon. And I decide that I need to set up the slip and slide for said kids.

Then I decide that I need to cook at 4 in the afternoon. 400 degree oven and boiling corn on the cob. My poor A/C was working its butt off yesterday.

I was lying down on the couch at 7 last night. 7!!! I don't DO that. And then I had to peel myself off of said couch and go to church to practice an ensemble piece. Where only 2 of the 4 featured people showed up.... Nice. Thanks so much for getting us together there. I could have continued my reign on my throne.

And now I am just sitting here .... mind numb, body tired, coffee on desk.

Have a good one.

On your marks ...

2007-06-27T07:38:00.000-04:00

Get set..... Go.

The Queen decided that she wanted to try out for the traveling soccer team this year.

On one hand, I hoped she would make it. On the other, I had heard of the more grueling schedule, the travel, the money, etc. and I was kind of hoping ... just kind of hoping ... she wouldn't make it.

She did. The "A" team, whatever that is supposed to mean. That probably means "you are more Away than here when you play your games."

We have a parent informational meeting in a few weeks where we get to hear exactly what is involved in this circus life.

And we received a phone call two days ago from someone, asking if the Queen would like to attend a soccer camp. For 68.75. After I had JUST spent 75 on another soccer camp.

Well sure ... I'm made of money.

And they put it to you like this: Hi! This is so and so from the soccer league. We are calling the U-9 teams to see if they can make a soccer camp where we are trying to get all the traveling teams together and get to know one another. We would love to have the Queen there, if it is at all possible. Oh... by the way ...shell out 68.75 for four days of camp for 2 1/2 hours each day.

First, who can say no to that opportunity when it is presented in such manner. Second, who can say no to someone who will take your kid for 2 1/2 hours in the morning.

And thus it all begins.

However, I will have to say ... this soccer stuff ... with having THREE kids playing it this year ... has gotten me out of traveling 2 hours, one way, to a choir kickoff event. Don't even get me started on WHY the powers that be have decided that the choir should have to take 8 hours out of a Saturday to spend time with one another when we already spend enough time with each other during the week. That is two hours to get there, FOUR hours to be there, and two hours to come home. I mean ... really.

So I just can't leave Ace to have to get three kids to three different soccer events, especially if one of them is out of town. Just wouldn't work.

Think of your most embarassing moment ....

2007-06-26T06:42:00.001-04:00

and I will top you.

I have had a few. We all have, haven't we? Times when we were caught saying something we shouldn't have. Times we would like to just sweep under the rug, to forget about them forever.

I had one really embarassing moment that I thought could never be topped. Until yesterday.

When I was a full 8 1/2 months pregnant with the Queen (and when I weighed considerably less than I do now), Ace and I were at my parents house. We were up to attend my 10th high school reunion (we should have saved the gas....), and my parents were out of town so we had their house to ourselves.

No. This is not about s-e-x. This is about a s-h-o-w-e-r. And with only me involved.

I knew that Ace was taking our things out to the car to head on back to Kentucky, so I got in the shower and I left the door (that swings out, not in) open because I always get hot when I take showers and am getting ready.

So full-bloom pregnant, I am standing there drying my hair. I hear someone coming up the stairs, and I thought it was Ace. It was my DAD. I stood there. He stood there. Instead of him shutting the door for me, I had to reach out into the hallway to get it.

I think we both have tried to burn the image out of our minds.

And then yesterday happened.

I was coming back to our bedroom to change out of my pants. I decided to change out of my underwear, too. And call Ace on my cell phone. So I am standing in my tshirt only ... and my MOTHER comes into my room. She needed to tell me something. I thought she had left.

Oh..... Oh. Oh. Ummmm... I just wanted to ... oh.

I am standing there trying to pull my shirt down over the important things, but I just finally give up. And all the while, Ace is sitting on the other end of the line, listening.

Now ... she said she didn't know I had my underwear off. I said I couldn't believe that because she was acting all flustered.

I keep trying to remind myself that these are the people who gave birth to me. It hasn't convinced me yet.

Most Likely To....

2007-06-25T06:53:00.000-04:00

When I was in high school, we had those stupid popularity elections. No, not homecoming court. We had that, too. I'm talking about when the seniors pass around a ballot with the "Most Likely Tos" and we had to vote the people who were "Most Likely To."

Most Likely To Succeed
Ok. I think that was the only Most Likely To...

Then there was Cutest Couple, Worst Driver, Class Clown, Most Athletic.... all those things that let an already self-conscious teenager worry about their popularity just a little bit more.

Our Most Likely To Succeed ended up marrying her high school loser of a sweetheart after having dropped out of college in her freshman year. They ended up as a divorce statistic, and now she is a single mom, raising their kids.

Our Cutest Couple broke up their freshman year in college (or should I say hers because he never went to college) because she was unfaithful. She ended up calling me my first year working at Cedar Point to let me know that she was pregnant with some boy's kid (the boy had JUST graduated from our high school). They also married, stayed married for a while, and they also ended up a divorce statistic. But that was AFTER they had separated and divorced due to his infidelity, and then again remarried one year after their divorce was final. Yeah. That one was meant to last....

Our Most Athletic never reached college athletic fame at all. I don't even think either of them went out for college sports.

I was (no surprise here) voted Class Clown and ... get this ... Worst Driver. Never ONCE had an accident, so I have no idea how that one was bestowed upon me. The Class Clown one ... well, that one was rightfully earned.

So I look at my kids and I have to wonder .... who will they be in school? Not that I think they will win popularity contests. I just wonder what their personalities will be.

The Queen will probably be "Most Likely To Drive Her Classmates Crazy Because She Always Has To Be Right" Or "Class Pushover" because of her Clark Kent nature.

I know the Man will be "Class Clown." Or "Most Possessive Of His Belongings."

The Monkey ... she's a total tossup. She could be "Class Suck Up" or "Heaviest Metal Rocker" or "I Can't Believe She Has That Many Body Piercings And Her Parents Haven't Thrown Her Out Yet."

It is fun to watch them grow up into these ... people. I think I have been so mired in the "WHEN will this stage EVER stop" to really step back and look at them for who they are now, and who they will potentially become.

I just hope I live through it all without losing my sanity.

Reward systems

2007-06-22T07:33:00.001-04:00

Clean your room, and I'll get you a pony.

Go to the bathroom now, and we'll get ice cream after we go to the store.

Do your homework, and I'll buy you a new coat.

Sound familiar?

Bring a friend to Backyard Bible Club, and we will give you TWO tickets.

Ok. Maybe not that one.

But that is what we have been faced with this week.

Every other year, our Director decides that we are going to have these "outreach" BYBC. This is when 8-10 church member families open their homes for about an hour and a half and two people come in to "witness" to these kids.

Our BYBC is WAY over my kids' heads.

But one thing they DO understand: the fun festival held on Saturday where the kids will be able to "spend" their tickets on bounce houses and water balloons and face painting.

They receive one ticket for showing up, and one ticket for saying their Bible verse. That is all fine and dandy.

But they receive TWO tickets if they bring friends.

I have a problem with this.

Why two? Why not one?

So when the Queen asked if she could bring Chicken Nugget girl, I let it slide. Then she asked again the following day. I let it slide. She asked again yesterday, and I asked her to look deep in her heart to see WHY she wanted to invite Chicken Nugget girl.

She honestly said "well, because I get two tickets for bringing her."

Really. Do we WANT to teach our kids that there is a monetary reward system for the eternal salvation of some child's soul? Bring your friends, save them from Satan, and you'll get two more chances in the bounce house.

I don't mind asking someone to Sunday school. I don't mind asking someone to church. I DO mind "paying" a kid for something that they should want to do out of the goodness of their heart.

Aren't we just teaching our kids that they should look for their own financial gain when they "help" someone out?

or maybe I am being a bitty of a mother. But I will purchase these tickets to give my kids more time in the bounce house, thanks.

Condescending phone calls

2007-06-21T06:53:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I was getting the kids around to make a trip to the library. They were all ready to go when the phone rang. It came in as "private caller." Normally, this was how my caller id registered my Dad's cell phone, so I answered it.

"Hello. Is the Mominator there?"

"No she isn't. May I take a message?"

"Yes. This is John. I will leave my phone number. Do you have a pen?"

That grates on my LAST nerve. Do I have a pen? I don't know. Do you? If so, could I borrow it? What if it is a pencil? Is that not good enough for you, you pencil bigot!?

"Why yes ... yes I do. Do I need it for something?"

"Well, I was going to give you my phone number."

"Really ...I'm a married woman."

"Ummmm no. No. I was going to give you my phone number so SHE can call me."

"Well, she's married, too. I'm gonna tell my Dad on you!"

"No.... no. SHE called ME!"

"Oh. I see. Probably from HER house, right? This isn't HER house. Did you know that? Are you getting that idea by now?"

"Oh. This isn't where she lives? We have this number registered."

"Registered? For what?"

"On this account."

"Oh really? Well, did you know you are in violation of the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act? I am not on any account of hers."

"Well ...she called me!"

"Ok. I'll let this one slide. I will give her the message that you called."

"Well, can you give it to her today?"

"Really John .... after this whole conversation, do you think you could treat me like I am her 37-year-old child, and not her 12-year-old child?"

Click.

I called the Mominator to let her know that John was calling her (she had called him after all ... to let them know her payment was going to be a few days late) and I told her to be prepared.

She called me back about five minutes later to let me know she talked to John, and that John seemed pretty whipped.

Score one for the 12-year-old.

And now... i can talk about it

2007-06-20T07:30:00.000-04:00

On the Saturday night of the monkey's birthday bash, the older kids were out in the street playing.

And they discovered something.

Carly (Robin's DD) and the Queen found ....

dumdumdummmmmm

A knife.

Not a Swiss Army knife. A pocketknife of some substance.

The girls picked it up, exclaiming "LOOK AT THIS!" and Ace immediately took it from their possession, put the knife back in, and threw it in his pocket.

After the party was over, and we were sitting out on the patio enjoying the silence, I sat straight up in my chair.

"Did they find the murder weapon for that crime at the bar?" I asked Ace.

"You know ... I don't think they did. I remember reading that they were still looking for it."

Dumdumdummmmmm

"hmmm.... I wonder if we should call the police?"

Ace thought about it for a minute and said "well, I guess we should."

I called the administrative line, which ended up being someone's voice mail. I left a message, and didn't think anymore about it.

But the longer it sat in my house, the more I thought I should call a real live police officer. So I did.

"ummm... yeah. hi. This might sound crazy and all, and I'm sure it is absolutely nothing, but we found a ... well, my kids found a ... no wait, I think my husband found it ... no. Now that I remember ... oh wait. Yea. A knife was found in our gutter."

Audible gasp from the officer.

"DO YOU STILL HAVE IT? DID YOU MOVE IT? WHERE IS IT? WHERE DO YOU LIVE? WE ARE SENDING SOMEONE OVER RIGHT AWAY!!!!"

Of course, she was half pi**ed off that we moved it, let alone three people had touched it and it was in someone's pocket for the last three hours.

So ala NY:CSI style, in a manner that would have made Gary Sinise so proud of me, I picked up the generic paper napkin from my table, grabbed the knife, and threw it in my Ziploc baggie and headed outside to meet the officer.

Of course, who happened to walk by at that VERY moment when the police officer showed up? My nosey neighbor. He had to offer his two cents (we have a foster home right down the street, and the officer did say that he knew that address well), and then he moved on his way.

The officer asked us a few questions, took the knife, and that was it.

It was a juicy story... for about one day. Then they had an article in the paper where they were combing an area for a "butterfly" style knife. So our knife was out of the running.

But it certainly was .... interesting.

Lip smackin' good

2007-06-19T07:45:00.001-04:00

I'm signing the Monkey up today.

http://picks.yahoo.com/picks/potw/20070618.html

My newest creation

2007-06-18T22:55:00.000-04:00

A crocheted skirt/soaker for a customer.

Knit underneath (the soaker/diaper cover part) and crocheted the skirt.

Kendra ... this is the knitting that I was struggling with on Friday night. The soaker with bad karma. Luckily, the skirt portion went wonderfully.

Lucky # 13

2007-06-18T07:52:00.000-04:00

Happy 13th Anniversary, Ace.

Thirteen years. Man.

Seventeen years of dating/engagement/marriage.

Man alive.

Hard to believe.

Because of the number, we aren't making a big deal out of this one. Just acknowledging it and going on our way.

Kind of like how we treated the last 12 years.

But I do have to share a good one...

When we were getting ready for our rehearsal, I noticed that the lights in our downtown area were out.

And I walked into the conference center to see my mother in law, trapped in the glass elevator that looked out into the atrium with her parents inside.

I felt sorry for her parents.

Happy Father's Day

2007-06-17T09:34:00.000-04:00

Hope everyone's Dad has a wonderful day, and if I have any Dad readers ... Happy Father's Day, Y'all!

Went to a local science museum yesterday to hear my girls whine about how it was outside, and stay outside with my boy so he could dig with the big machines. It was a good day ....

Today is another one, hopefully. No church for us as the Queen had been complaining since last night of a bellyache. She is doing better now ...I think it had EVERYthing to do with the fact that she and the Man had decided to dig up the onions in our garden and eat them. The Man didn't complain, but boy ... the Queen in all her drama. Oy!

Have a good one!

Friends are friends forever...

2007-06-14T22:47:00.000-04:00

This evening, spent some wonderful quality time with some friends ... the kind where you can forget all time lost between the last time you saw each other and pick right back up where you left off.

A good evening ... but the reason for the get together has me completely and totally sad. I promised myself that I wouldn't shed any tears tonight, but I found myself having to excuse myself a time or two from conversation because I couldn't stand thinking about the reason we were gathered there...

To say goodbye and offer our well wishes and happy prayers for our dear friend, Jacque.

Jacque is one of a kind. She is the type of person who would sooner lay down her life for anyone than inconvenience them. She has a love for children. She is a beautiful mother. She is a loving wife.

She is so diametrically physical appearance opposite of me, yet it is scary how very similar we are. We visited the same watering hole when we were in college, but we never knew one another.

She is returning to her home town. She is returning to her family, to her Kentucky roots. She never lost that accent. They will be so proud of her ;)

I have never met a person more mired in the 1980s than myself. And we can talk on the phone for an hour and not really talk about anything but we can fill the whole conversation. There is never a dull moment of silence between us.

Jacque has been a true friend. She is someone you can always rely on, and I am going to miss her terribly.

But I am excited for her family. I am excited for her friends who had to say goodbye to her when she moved up to Ohio. I am excited for her friends who are beside themselves with glee that she is returning. And I am excited for her. She is taking it all in stride, and I am sure that she is more on automatic pilot than anything.

But she is handling it all with the Southern style and grace that is so Jacque.

Jacque ... I know we will see each other again before you leave ... I won't let you go without saying goodbye. I will miss your physical presence, friend. I will miss knowing that you are just down the road a little bit. I will miss our ADHD phone conversations.

But I am so happy for you. Y'all come back now every once in a while, ya hear?

Dogs

2007-06-13T19:50:00.000-04:00

There is a reason we don't have a dog.

I can't stand how stupid they are.

Yeah yeah yeah.... dog owners, chastise me if you will. Robin, I apologize. I know you have two. And I am sure they aren't dumb.

No. The DUMB dogs live right next door to me. We are on this funky block thing .... although we face one street, we are on the corner, and our block isn't deep at all. So our neighbor, whose house is for sale, is literally in our backyard.

And so are his DAMN DOGS.

When he first moved in, the smaller dog barked. Non-stop.

Which got the Great Dane to bark.

And for those of you who know some Great Danes, they don't do a lot of barking.

But this one does.

And they don't bark inside the house. No. They have to bark OUTSIDE.

At 6 AM when he lets them out.

At 11 PM when he gets ready to go to bed.

And right now. Barking at my kids.

Seriously dude. Move already.

Another Natalie Dee goodie

2007-06-12T12:34:00.000-04:00

For those of you who know me, that is totally me. It speaks to me. I need a tshirt with this graphic on it.

Not at all prepared today

2007-06-12T07:06:00.000-04:00

I am not prepared for class today. And it starts in less than 2 hours. And I have to finish up a case, get showered, feed myself, feed the kids who happen to roll out of bed before my Mom comes over to take over, and grade midterms.

Yeah. It's a good morning.

Summer Vacation Checklist

2007-06-11T07:04:00.000-04:00

1. Kids nagging to go to the pool already .... check

2. Mom losing her mind .... check

3. Mom finds out that a really awesome, wonderful, kind, considerate and kick-a$$ friend, who is just as mired in the 1980s as Mom, is moving away soon, probably within a month .... check

4. MIL already nagging for us to figure out a time when we can make a trip down to the backwoods of KY where there is NOTHING for my kids to do ... not even enough room to look around outside without Mom's fear that one or all of the kids will roll down the hill of he** .... check

5. Need to look into a Rx for valium for # 4 .... not done yet

6. Child who ran around all day yesterday outside on her aunt's five plus acres of land up at the crack-a$$ of dawn just to show her mother that there is a green stain on her now favorite hoochie mama white tanktop with silver sequins purchased by her nana .... check

It is going to be a LOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG summer.

Four Years

2007-06-09T23:40:00.000-04:00

Today was the Monkey's birthday.

So many memories. So many fun times.

I will blog more about the happenings of the actual day and evening, but I just ran across from old photos....

The Monkey ...

First birthday

Number Two:

Number three:

And today, four:

Three... good night and good bye

2007-06-08T21:10:00.001-04:00

So grown up

2007-06-08T09:14:00.000-04:00

I can't stand it. I can't stand to think of how grown up she is.

This morning, she looked like a third grader. This morning, she has gotten taller. This morning, she has grown up. This morning, she is no longer my primary school girl.

This morning, she embarked on her last walk down this sidewalk. She embarked on her last walk through the doors of her school as a student. When she returns, she will be an alumni.

Sure. She's only eight. She isn't 18.

But she's my girl. My oldest. My first. The one who I held at 4 in the morning, feeding her and watching Starman. The one who was overdue by two weeks. The one I can vividly remember giving birth to. The one who got her first tooth at 4 months old.

The overachiever. The friend of all people. The servant's heart.

The big girl.

Take a ride on my slide

2007-06-07T21:02:00.000-04:00

We are giving some personal touches to teacher's gifts this year. Instead of buying the standardized, silly teacher gift, the Queen is writing a personal note for her retiring second grade teacher, and putting it in a photo frame with a picture I took of them together yesterday afternoon.

So I thought it would be nice to have the Man draw a picture for his teacher, who is finishing her first year of teaching in her own classroom.

Now, we have been teasing the Man about having a little crush on her.

Apparently there was some truth to that crush...

This is what he drew for her:

It's a slide people... get your minds out of the gutter. I haven't been able to, and neither has Robin. But maybe you can....

Daily Docket Doozie

2007-06-07T06:37:00.000-04:00

Maybe SOMEone should have checked some vitals before this one was called in ... just sayin'....

A woman was taken to the hospital by ambulance on Wednesday after police received a call that a deceased person had been found at a storage facility. The woman was alive but had passed out from low blood sugar.

Divas in Different Degrees

2007-06-05T19:51:00.000-04:00

The Monkey is a free spirit. Around the house. But when it comes to performing for people, she just isn't into it. She is all about the attention here. She loves to get it. She craves it. She basks in it.

But turn that attention on her in a public setting, and I am not sure if sheer stubborness sets in, and she won't do what everyone else is doing, or she is just shy.

Today, the Monkey decided that she would sing NOTHING of her preschool program. She knew all of the words. She knew what she was doing. She just didn't want to. I got the same thing out of her for the KinderChoir performance.

Queen started off the same way. She didn't sing for her three year old program in preschool. And with her being the first kid out of the chute, I was livid. I mean ... seriously. I was livid. I couldn't understand WHY she wouldn't sing. She just stood there in front of everyone, and didn't open her mouth once. She didn't do any of the motions. Nothing.

Fast forward a few years, and she is starting to come out of her shell. She still has a shy streak, but she is taking on more and more as she gets older. I was really surprised that she wanted to try out for a part in the church presentation, and that she really enjoyed preparing and performing. So, deep down inside, I think she loves the attention.

So when the parents asked the Monkey today why she didn't feel like singing, I said "her sister... four years ago... same performance."

So I suppose there is hope for the Monkey.

But then.... she would go from this

To this

Maybe the Monkey IS the smarter of the two.

Share a good recipe with me

2007-06-04T22:12:00.000-04:00

I have hit a recipe slump. Do you ever get to that point where all you can think is pasta, pork chops, or taco salad, and you wonder where the excitement of your cooking went?

Yes, Robin. I am cooking. I am making dinners. Believe it or not.

Tonight ... it was baked bow tie pasta, spaghetti sauce, and some mozz. cheese melted on top. Garlic bread. Salad.

Done. Boring. Now, I know ... it is the TIME spent at the table. But still... BORING!!!

The Queen LOVES red beans and rice. So that is dinner for tomorrow night. No problem. And I have a pizza that I will make for Wednesday night. We will be eating some leftovers throughout. I have a few casseroles that I am going to make... nothing monumental.

But blah. I don't want gourmet. I want good, easy meals. I am a good cook... yes, I am. I don't make crap.

Well .... ok ... there was that time when my sister and I took over Thanksgiving because my mother was having back problems and had had back surgery. I was responsible for the bread pudding and the spoon bread. Spoon bread ... you have to have an Act of Congress to make it come out right. It is just one of those ... things. Those things that only your Mom can do right. I think Mini Martha had set me up for immediate sabotage on that one, actually.

Hmmmm...let's give sis the spoon bread. She'll cry when it doesn't come out right and think she is a culinary failure ... but I'll feel ok because everything I make will be perfect. Yeah... that's the plan!

So I get spoon bread that burned. And I forgot to put the sugar in the bread pudding. So it was like eating wallpaper paste.

My Dad still gets a good chuckle out of that one. Just ask him...

Ok. Other than those times ... I have been pretty successful.

So.... tell me a good one. I will share some with you, but I warn you: they are BASIC. Basic, people. That's what I give, and that is what I want.

Corn Casserole

1 can creamed corn
1 can regular corn, drained
1 stick of butter ... yes... the WHOLE thing, softened
1 egg
1 box corn muffin mix
8 oz sour cream

Mix it all together, bake for an hour or so on 350, and you have a yummy side dish. My kids LOVE this stuff.

I was thinking about trying the crazy family with the 17 kids hashbrown casserole ... i need to look that one up online. ok... after posting, I found their site and this is a direct link to their recipes: http://www.duggarfamily.com/recipes.html . Maybe I shouldn't call them crazy? Nah... I'll leave that in there.

So there you go. Throw some out. Robin... don't you go looking in some gourmet cookbook of yours. If it has capers or bok choy or some like ilk in it, don't post it.

Poetic Justice

2007-06-03T22:30:00.000-04:00

I went to a VERY small junior and senior high school.... like I had 31 people in my graduating class, and that included four exchange students.

So whenever someone did something, everyone knew about it within minutes. Literally.

And if you weren't in the "in" crowd, you were a social pariah, never to really be allowed in.

When I was in the eighth grade, which was my first year at this school, there was a girl who decided, after months of being my friend, that I was public enemy # 1. I had no idea what happened. I just came to school one day, and she was telling people that she hated me, and that they should not talk to me ever again. And whenever she spoke, people listened. Because they were afraid they would get their ass whooped by this girl.

I told Ace the other day that this was the single, most-traumatizing event of my young life. I just couldn't understand why she didn't like me. I approached her and asked. Her answer: you mean, you don't know?

Of course, looking back on this now, I realize that I had done nothing; this was just one of those nasty times in the teen years where things just don't make sense, and it is the end of the world when our popularity is in jeopardy.

After a while, my friends came back around, deciding that she just didn't have things right. That I was a cool kid again. That I was worthy of conversations.

Last week, I started teaching a day class. I hadn't taught a day class since last year. I teach in the paralegal/criminal justice department, so those are the people I see on a daily basis.

I had gone over to another instructor's room to speak with her, but she wasn't there. Two of her students were, though. I didn't recognize either of them. One of them recognized me.

It was her. THE ONE! She said my name, and I looked at her with a blank stare, and said "I should know you from where?" and she told me her name.

That name. That name that made my blood run cold. That name that made me want to dash off in the opposite direction.

I said "oh yeah. Hey ... how are you?" and she said "fine but most importantly ... how are you?" I told her all was well. She said she was getting a paralegal degree and then moving on to law school. She said we should "catch up" sometime. I said ok and she left.

I just stood there. And then my conspiracy theorist reminded me: I might be HER instructor some day.

And then life seemed to make complete sense.

And it was good.

The show must go on... break a leg.... and all that jazz

2007-06-01T21:40:00.000-04:00

This is THE weekend. Tonight was the completely too long, insanely tedious dress rehearsal for the Queen's dance recital tomorrow night.

This group of women take this recital seriously. They start learning their routines on the first day of class. I remember thinking how LONG it was when the Queen was on the stage the first time around. Now that we are on our fourth year, it gets longer. And longer. And loooooooongggggger.

It was especially long tonight because...

The co-director of the business ... the daughter of the owner .... fell on some straw that was being used as prop right at the beginning of rehearsal. Boom. She went down. Crack. Went her arm.

Had to call EMS and take her out on a stretcher.

Now, I think the stretcher might have been stretch ... a little dramatic. I would have scooped her butt off the floor and taken her to the hospital.

But the show went on. Literally. Instead of going to the hospital with her daughter, the mother/owner stayed. The entire night.

We were there for FOUR hours. Four, people.

Four.

Tomorrow night ... is going to be ugly.

Daily Docket Doozie

2007-06-01T07:30:00.000-04:00

My dear friend, Kendra, was kind enough to bring this DDD to my attention this week ... it was in reference to the fact that strep was at my house for the second time in a matter of a month or so, and her comment was "at least you don't have THIS kid at your house..."

Two parents reported their 13-year-old son had stolen money and pornographic movies from their rural home and that he had also stolen a cell phone from his school.

That would be the PARENTS' porn, people. Could you imagine that conversation at their house?

I'm calling the cops!

But honey ... I can understand about the cell phone, and I don't mind you telling them about that ... but what about ... our ..... tapes?

I don't give a flip about the phone. I need my PORN back.

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

2007-05-30T06:30:00.000-04:00

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!

Dear Urgent Care Center

2007-05-29T07:52:00.000-04:00

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.

3:44 am

2007-05-28T07:56:00.000-04:00

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 ...

HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY, Y'ALL!

Yoda Man ... you bad girl

2007-05-25T21:35:00.000-04:00

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.

May the Toys Be With You ... Always

2007-05-25T06:38:00.000-04:00

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...

yummy.....

Happy 30th Anniversary, fellow geeks!

Do you have a hero?

2007-05-23T21:23:00.000-04:00

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 ~~giggling~~crying, 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.

DA** Ducks

2007-05-23T06:28:00.000-04:00

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.

Living in total denial

2007-05-22T07:10:00.001-04:00

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?

HIlarious....

2007-05-21T06:53:00.001-04:00

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!

Daily Docket Doozie

2007-05-19T09:36:00.001-04:00

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.

A sign of the times

2007-05-18T07:12:00.000-04:00

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.