Saturday, July 30, 2005

Happy birthday, baby sister

My baby sister, Heather, turns 29 today. She seems to be okay with it so far, but we'll see how she handles 30. That's when they usually fall apart. Or at least, that's when I fell apart.

If I may, let me tell you a few things about my little sister. Because not only am I posting this on the internet for all to read (even the 55 gallon barrel killer), but I'm also going to print it out and give it to her as a birthday card because I'm not much of a Hallmark kind of girl. So Sis, Happy Birthday and here's to you -

I was three and a half when she was born. I really don't remember it. There were a lot of really important things going on in my life back then, like toys and crayons and learning to be a diva and I'm pretty sure I spent the night with my Nana when my parents went to the hospital, so I was way more consumed with twisting Nana around my little finger than there being a new baby in my life. I don't remember the first time I saw her, the first time I held her or changed her diaper or anything like that. There are pictures of me holding her and feeding her, but I am obviously quite effectively blocking them from my memory. Either I have issues yet to be discovered in therapy or I'm just getting old. But Mom says I was enamored with her.

My memories of my sister start somewhere around the time I was six or so. She was annoying. She wanted to do everything I did, exactly the way I did it and was essentially my little shadow. Following me around all day saying "But I looooooove you, Sissy!" is not the way to win my affection. I see my three year old doing this now and I cringe to think that she is honest to God driving her older sister insane. But this is the way it must be in the sister/sister relationship. If they don't annoy the heck out of you when they are little, you can really never appreciate their maturity fully when they become tolerable and you begin to like them.

Once, she decided to feed my goldfish while I was at school. I came home to find my fish drowned in a tank full of murky water, half an inch of fish food floating on top. I wanted to kill her. Right then and there, on the spot, just take her out. As she got older, she discovered that my clothes fit her quite well and she began wearing them without permission. She nearly lost limbs over that. The little booger would steal a shirt then cover it with a jacket until she was safely in another building at school and if I'd catch her in the hall with an article of MY clothing on, well the teachers at school were pretty savvy to sibling fights and kept me at bay with mace and a herd of German Shepherds. Yet once when a kid picked a fight with her on the bus, I had her back and ended up in the superintendent's office over it. I slapped the little twerp who was picking on my sister and got in major trouble for hitting a grade schooler. But he messed with my sister and dude, you just don't do that.

And funny, but now that I'm actually writing this story I can't think of any more of the bad stuff that she did back then. Really. As I'm trying to dredge up the bad, all I keep coming up with are the good ones I want to share. Funny how that happens.

Sis and I were polar opposites when we were kids. I was a total bookworm. She was a tomboy. I was content to stay inside reading or writing or drawing. She was out the door when her feet hit the floor and she didn't come home till she was dirty and the sun was down. She was Daddy's girl. I was Momma's girl. I could shoot a gun. She nearly shot me with a gun (and hasn't touched one again since that day). She was all about learning to swim the entire circumfrence of the pool without coming up for air. I was all about the tan. She liked New Kids on the Block. I was into GreenPeace. I was in Drama and Theatre. She ran track. She was a math whiz. Math made me cry. At the end of the day, my Barbies were all placed neatly into the cases with hair combed and all in their original outfits. Sis' were all naked with tangled hair and they were thrown haphazardly into the Dreamhouse.

Yet now, we are so alike it's eerie. We finish sentences for each other. We spontaneously burst into song - the same song and at the same point in the song. Which is freaky in itself, but when we do it in perfect harmony, it's downright scary.

About the time Sis was 14 and I was 17, she suddenly became my friend. No kidding. Like overnight, she was suddenly cool. I'm not sure who did the maturing - she or I. Maybe both. She was sweet and kind and giving, she didn't whine, she didn't copy me, she didn't follow me around going "I loooooooove you, Sissy!" and even better she was suddenly hilarious. She could make me laugh better than anyone. We invited her to hang out with us, my friends and I. She was our little comedienne and was a good one at that. By the time I was 18 and she was 15, we were inseperable. I have so many memories from high school through now involving my sister. Good memories. That kind of makes up for the lack of them when she was a baby - I was saving all that memory storage space for the ones that counted. The good ones that I'll cherish forever.

At our house, Mom had a thing about trying new food. If we'd tried it once and truly didn't like it, we weren't required to take any on our plate from then on. But like once a year Mom would ask, "Have you tried it in awhile? You might like it now." And we'd have to give it a try again. One Sunday afternoon for lunch Mom made brussel sprouts. I hate brussel sprouts - always have and always will. That particular day was the one that Mom decided it had been too long since the little balls of green goodness had touched my tastebuds. She put two on my plate. I glared at her. When Mom wasn't looking, Sis tapped me on the leg under the table and started trying to convey to me without words that she was going to rectify this situation and I would not have to partake of the demon sprouts. Before I knew what was happening, Sis grabbed the sprouts off my plate, shoved them in her mouth and started chewing. She smacked my leg again and I, in a bewildered moment nearly busted out laughing. But as Mom started to turn around I realized what I was going to have to do - I grabbed my fork and then started chewing. Mom noticed the lack of brussel sprouts on my plate and said, "Oh you tried them? See? Not so bad are they?" I was over there just a chewin' up a storm, cheeks seemingly full of vegetable, nodding my head vigorously and going "Mmmmm!". I'm not even sure how the truth was discovered, but when Mom figured out that Heather had been the one to eat the brussel sprouts, she then decided to shove brussel sprouts into my face. Heather sat against the wall, laughing her head off while Mom smeared sprouts all over my teeth, lips and cheeks. It was quite a Sunday lunch, lemme tell ya. Sometimes the best-laid plans . . . but she tried. Or maybe she knew how it was going to pan out . . . hmmmm . . .

Sis and I also started taking clogging lessons when we were in high school. I was nearly 18. She was 14 1/2. We'd take off every week to Afton to spend our two hours learning the finer points of backwoods, hillbilly dancing and every week strategically place ourselves directly behind the Horton boys in line. We not only learned how to dance, but we also memorized those boys' butts. Oh the crushes we had on those two! Something miraculous happened that next summer, too - the oldest, and object of my affection, actually noticed me as well. By then Sis was 15. Only 6 months away from getting her learner's permit so it was close enough to legal in my stupid teenage mind. I would leave her on a country road in my car to drive up and down a mile section - "honing her skills" I told her - while I ran off with the oldest Horton brother in his truck. She never tattled. Heck no! She was doing something wrong as well. (Although I'm quite sure it wasn't as fun as what I was doing.) We had not only become friends, but we had become partners in crime.

But my favorite memory from our teenage years came after I had graduated high school. I was 18 1/2 then. Sis was 15. Dragging Main was still cool in our little town and everyone did it. At the time I had a gold Chevy Cavalier that was rapidly disintegrating before our very eyes. I had run it out of oil, wedged it into a friend's back bumper in the school parking lot, it had a really bad paint job that had crackled, the headliner was falling down and the driver's seat had broken loose from the floor so it was propped up with a brick. But man, this was my car. We drove the heck out of that little thing. One Saturday night, Sis and I were uptown - The radio was blaring something Garth Brooks-ish, I'm sure. We were nodding coolly and smiling at the boys we didn't know, trying to make ourselves seem unattainable in our supercool gold bomb. We were squealing and waving insanely when we saw someone we knew. All in all, just enjoying the night together. Well, as I mentioned Sis is hilarious. I mean, a downright laugh-riot. And I have a really loud laugh. When I am truly amused by something I will just bust out a loud "BWAH!" and then continue laughing hysterically loud. I'm sure she'd spent some time planning her strategy, but she never let on. We got right into the heart of downtown, cars all around us and she made me laugh. Told a joke or something to make me guffaw loudly. I was laughing dramatically, eyes closed, pounding on the steering wheel, royally entertained - only to look over at her after a few seconds to find her completely lying down! She had made me laugh and then hit the lever that laid the seat down flat. I was sitting in my car on Main, laughing myself to death, what appeared to be, completely alone in my car. When I looked over to discover her lying down, she was laughing hysterically herself, but refused to sit up. So then, not only was I laughing all alone in my car, but I was now talking to the invisible passenger sitting next to me!

I was incredibly mean to my little sister when we were kids, telling her that if you didn't pull your underpants and pants up separately after using the toilet it would make you sick. I also told her that she could quite possibly wake up gay one morning. Simply wake up and poof, you were gay. That poor girl lived in fear for years. She was scared to death she was going to wake up to find her sexual orientation changed forever. Little did I know that my sister had OCD - Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Had I known, there is no way I'd have played with her brain like that. I thought I was just teasing my gullible little sister, but what I was doing was fuelling an unwilling obsession. When I found out that the "waking up gay" thing had plagued her for years, I cried. I didn't mean to be so cruel.

My sister's journey through OCD has been hard. She was suffering in silence virtually her whole life and no one knew how to help her or that she even needed help. Everyong labeled her "intense" and "serious", but no one knew that deep inside she was obsessing over things uncontrollably. When she finally couldn't take it any longer, I know it took some major guts to ask for help. Because for a non-obsessive person to ask for help is one thing, but a person who obsesses then obsesses over asking for help. I can't imagine what living was like for her all those years. But she has survived and she is stronger because of it. She has also helped Mom and I realize that we, too, suffer from OCD. Of course, I got the crazy alphabetizing the canned goods kind of OCD. I lose sleep over the organization of my pantry, she loses sleep wondering if the world will end tomorrow or that her children will be safe or that she'll wake up gay. I totally got the better deal. God knew who was stronger. At first she was very secretive about her OCD, but as time has gone on, she is more vocal about it. Simply because I think she doesn't want anyone else to suffer like she has.

She's an amazing woman, my sister. She blows me away. She is a talented artist, but sells herself short. She is a stupendous wife and a magnificent mother. She has passion about the things that matter and will give you her heart and soul if you need it. There is no one around who can love you and care for you like she can. She is kind and giving to a fault and is compassionate beyond words.

Occasionally I feel bad for beating the snot out of her when we were kids, but on the other hand, I think if we had gotten along so well as children our relationship as adults wouldn't be near as strong. All siblings fight and fuss as kids. Sadly, some don't forge an adult relationship. I can't imagine my life without my sister. Yeah, we still argue and disagree from time to time, but we're supposed to. That's what makes our relationship better. She is one of my heroes and truly my best friend. There is no one who has encouraged me to write any more than Sis and the very first book I publish will be dedicated to her:

"To Taterbug and all of her naked Barbies. I love you, Sis. - Kiki"

Friday, July 29, 2005

A good kind of tired

When I got up this morning I just could not get motivated. So I curled up in the recliner, flipped on PBSKids and was soon joined by my two daughters. And it wasn't too long after that I dozed back off. We stayed in that recliner through Clifford AND Dragon Tales and part of Caillou, but I just can't hack that whiney four year old that talks like a freakin' baby so I got up and turned off the TV. Soon after that the rest of the house came to life as well. Some mornings you just can't get moving till you've had a little PBS and a nap.

And while I stayed in my pajamas until noon, it was still a good day. Mom called around 12:30 and said she was heading my way and could I meet her half way with Abby. So I loaded the kids into the van, all of us still in our pj's, and met her at the church.

Today was Abby's day with her Grammy. Sam has gotten a little bit more attention lately what with the mucho karate action goin' on now and I felt like Ab's kind of been neglected. I mentioned to Mom that I'd like to take just her to lunch at the Olive Garden before school started and then the two of us watch Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Mom said that she'd actually been thinking of taking Ab to Olive Garden, too, but she was going to draw the line at a HP movie. Olive Garden is Ab's favorite place to eat, even though all she ever gets is spaghetti. For some reason, to her it's "fancy". So I relented and let Mom take her there for lunch. I still get the HP movie. Fine by me.

She was excited all morning. She wore her star and rhinestone tank top with a navy skirt, I flat-ironed her hair and she wore her big hoop earrings and chunk heel sandals. The child that I left with my mother today looked a lot older than a nearly 9 year old. *sigh* Sometimes I get really scared when I see just how big my kids are getting.

So I came back here and fixed lunch for the other kids, then got to thinking I hadn't picked up my free indian food this month. Or at least, I thought I hadn't. So a quick call to the magic free cheese place and sure enough, no I hadn't picked up my food. Mrs. Coach took my order and told me to get my rear in to pick it up. When I told her I was still in my pajamas and I'd probably just send Mr. Diva, she said, "Oh just come in in your pajamas. Look, I just read a story about your underwear. There's really nothing left to the imagination." She did have a valid point. But I didn't go to town in my pajamas. Standing in the free cheese line once a month is one thing - doing it in your pajamas is something else entirely.

I also picked up Tater's tots while I was in town. When we got back here to the house we all put on our swimsuits and hit the pool. Well, I did for awhile, but it smelled funny to me so I didn't stay in long. It had been covered for two days and had a stale smell to it. The kids of course, didn't care, but it bothered me. When they got out, I vacuumed it and chlorinated the hell out of it. While I was doing that, Mark the Builder showed up with his two boys and their motorcycles. Mark was going to help Mr. Diva with the sheetrock in the playhouse and the boys were going to take advantage of our 40 acres. So of course, Sam wanted to play, too. All afternoon we watched those boys - two motorcycles and a four wheeler - race all over the field. Sam rode Tater's tots around, which made him feel like hot stuff. He looked so big, yet so little all at the same time. Funny how they do that.

Around 7, when Mark and his boys left, I had one sheetrock-dusty husband, one dusty and sweaty son and a windblown and dusty daughter and I was in no mood to cook, so we went to Pizza Hut. We were sitting there eating and Sam said, "This is almost a family dinner. Except we're missing Abby." That was all it took - Kady teared up and said, "IIIIIIIIIII MIIIIIISSSSSS MYYYYYY SIIIIIISSSSSYYYYYYY!" Oy. But I gave her a quarter and she got a slimy, sticky, ooey gooey thing from the gumball machine and forgot all about ol' sissywhatshername.

We stopped at Mark's house on the way out of town to tell him that we wouldn't be home tomorrow night, so they couldn't work on the playhouse then after all. What was supposed to be my husband just going in by himself to relay the message turned into an hour long visit. Mark showed me their pool, deck, shop, playhouse, den and man, it made me wish my husband was a builder, too. Someday when Mr. Diva grows up I hope he's a carpenter, too.

We got home and put the kids to bed and I just looked in my kitchen and all of the sudden got really tired. The dishwasher needs unloaded and reloaded. All of that free food is sitting on my table waiting to be alphabetized in my pantry. The trash needs taken out. There's also a container of chocolate milk on the counter that has sat there all day and I am trying to decide if it's worth it to open it come morning and wash it, or to just toss it and buy another one. I think it was all of .97 at Wal*Mart. I think I can spare that dollar.

Tomorrow is Sis' birthday. 29. Her last year of being a 20-something. Ha! We're going on the ritual gambling run to collect her free monies. It's just not a birthday around here without the free money Native American gambling run. I can't wait. Not just for the gambling, although I admit I am excited about that. But I am looking forward to a night with the grownups. I might even have another apple-tini. They're not really all that good, but they're so pretty to look at and they're on special at Quapaw Casino this month. Better take advantage of those $2 drinks, especially if they're pretty ones.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

And the crowd goes wild

Isn't the new template GREAT?!?!

I am SO happy with it!

Heather at Ciao! My Bella! did it and she couldn't have done a better job! I highly recommend her - not only did she create an awesome design for me, but she is also incredibly patient! You can tell I'm happy because of the overuse of exclamation points!

Thank you, Heather!!!

Don't bring me down

Tonight was Open Mat night at the dojo again. When Sam and I left, we had to run to Wal*Mart for a wax ring and a new toilet seat. (4 days off and I am SO making that man work around here!) And a mouth guard because these boys have decided that Sam's sparred enough now that they don't have to take it easy on him anymore and twice tonight he got punched in the head. I have too much invested in his teeth already.

Well, this afternoon was simply insane what with having six kids here all afternoon, plus a husband, plus working on the playhouse, getting Addison's kitten ready to go to its new home and then Chandler had a tick behind his ear and Abby sliced her finger open while trying to climb a tree . . . it was just one thing after another.

I had been working outside all day and had just braided my hair back this morning. Y'all know I have a wee bit of a crush on Sensei so any time I'm going to be in his presence - even though he's a happily married hottie and I'm a most of the time happily married redneck - I try to look nice. There was no way I was going to karate tonight smelling like ass. Sweaty ass at that. So I threw some popcorn chicken and apple slices at the kids, gave Mr. Diva strict instructions to not leave them unattended and I ran back to grab a quick shower.

In my haste I grabbed one of the two pairs of panties I own that are a smidge smaller than the rest. Oh, they're the same size as the others, but for some reason they just don't fit quite as well.

Now, any woman who has ever worn too-small panties knows what too-small panties are capable of. They are capable of evil, evil things.

Okay, now back to the story: Sam and I headed into Wal*Mart to grab just those few items. It was going to be a fairly quick trip and then we were headed home. Ach, but I remembered once I got in the store that I had left my library book (Thanks, Sloane!) at the dojo (Oops, Sloane, forget you just read that.) so I called Sensei and he said he'd found it and had already put it in his office and that I could pick it up tonight if I wanted. Oh I wanted. It's the new Harry Potter. I told him I'd be over in a few, hung up and then quicked my pace through the store.

We were about halfway to the health and beauty aids when my panties just gave up the ghost. I felt them start to kind of edge their way down one side. I kind of did a little wiggle and tried to inconspiculously work them back into place. It was a no go. But I wasn't worried. The other side was holding strong. Until we actually reached HBA and then the other side let go. So now I was standing in front of the tampons because they're in the corner and fairly deserted, with my panties riding somewhere around the top of my ass crack. And rolled at that. Oh no, they couldn't have just scooched down leaving possibly a small wrinkle or two . . . they rolled. Leaving what I could envision as a telltale bump around my ass.

I cooly reached back to kind of feel the back of my jeans, trying to decide if the line was noticeable or not. Well, to me it felt like a huge speed bump on the back on my jeans, so after a quick look around to make sure no one was close, I tried to pull them back up into place through my jeans. Just kind of work them back up like I smoothed out the wrinkles in the pool last weekend. It sort of worked. Worked enough that I felt like the speed bump was less noticeable.

I then high-tailed it back to sporting goods to grab Sam a mouthpiece. Somewhere around the lightbulbs, they all but fell to my ankles. The only thing holding those panties actually inside my jeans was the crotch of my jeans. They weren't just riding rolled up around the top of my ass crack now - they were below my buns. And of course, now that the whole entire panty was involved, the roll was GINORMOUS.

What I wanted to do more than anything was just reach down my drawers and pull them back into place, but I know how Wal*Mart Loss Prevention works. I know that they have someone back there watching you as you shop. Just as sure as I'd shove my hands down the back of my jeans to grab my traitorous under garments, the voyeur in the back would hone in on me and alert the secret shopper that there was a Code 42 or something in sporting goods. And then I could just imagine them taking me into some interrogation room hidden deep in the bowels of the store and telling me that they saw me stick my hands down my pants and then they would ask me to produce what was down there.

And all I'd be able to show them would be my rolled up panties riding right below my ass.

I considered a run to the bathroom to hoist them back into position, but I had Sam with me and he would've laughed. Seriously. That would've cracked the kid up so badly that he'd have wet his pants. I was already embarrassed without my easily amused son getting in on the fun.

So I did what any other person in my position would do: I pulled my tshirt down lower in the back and got the hell out as quick as I could.

Once I got into the van, I was going to kind of lift my butt off the seat enough to pull them back up, but it seems the parking lot at Wal*Mart was THE place to be tonight, so I decided to wait till there wasn't an audience. I drove on to Sensei's place sitting on my rolled up drawers, wishing I'd never even bought those stupid hot pink gingham panties that were oh so cute at the time. I swore they were going straight to the rag basket the minute I got home.

Well, when I got to Sensei's I got out, thinking I could just pull 'em up real quick as soon as I got out of the van, but no, his front door was open and his kids were right there. So I found his wife in the dojo, got my book and prayed she didn't walk out behind me. She did. But thankfully it was fairly dark. I made it safely to the van without seeing Sensei and then having to live forever wondering if he'd noticed the roll riding just under my buttcheeks.

The second my van got onto a dark street I jerked those panties up and hooked them into my belt loops. Hell yes, it was incredibly uncomfortable, but the way I figure it, they're good and stretched out now and shouldn't give me trouble again.

Update and reminder

It's after 4 in the afternoon. What have we accomplished on the playhouse today?

Mr. Diva started hanging the last of the insulation so we can start on the walls after we start on the ceiling. I guess he was tired of me standing in the middle of the floor asking what I could do, so he handed me a stapler and said, "Here. Staple the insulation to the studs. Like this." This man is a mechanic. He has such amazing arm and hand strength that he can put the cap back on the oil filters of cars so tightly that he's the only one that can get them off. I feel sorry for those guys when one of his cars comes in on his days off! So he made the stapling look pretty easy.

Now I'm not a total wuss, but I'm also no mechanic with freakishly strong arms. So when it not only took me standing on my tiptoes to reach parts of the insulation, but then it took me two hands to staple it, this really frustrated him. He sighed very dramatically and said, "Oh fine, I'll just do it. Go on." I wasn't complaining, whining or griping or anything! I was just trying to find out the best way for my vertically-challenged self to (oh here I go again) git 'r done. He and I just do not work well together. He sent me in to make lunch. I guess he knows where my talent lies.

Now all of the insulation is in and stapled to the studs. He is currently on a sheet-rock and 2 x something buying mission. After me just not leaving it the hell alone, he is now going to have to cut up one section of floor because it's not properly supported. It's right inside the door, right where everyone's feet automatically hit with that first step. It's not going to take long for that to just wear right through. We paid good money for that flooring and it's going to be quite an undertaking to put it down and I have no intention of re-doing it down the road. So he finally agreed with me and we're fixing it. I'm not Diva the Builder, but I got me some smarts.

I am just one of these people that when I have something to do and a limited amount of time to do it in, I work with everything in me to get it done. (I skipped the redneck colloquialism this time. It gets redundant over time, methinks.) That's just the way I am. Mr. Diva is not like this. We worked for 45 minutes then took an hour lunch. Then we worked for another 45 minutes then came in to cool off because the insulation was sticking to our sweat and that is a bad, bad thing. So what I thought was going to be a 15 minute cool-off, turned into watching the entire movie, Babe, with the kids. Now it's after 4 and THE PLAYHOUSE IS REALLY NO CLOSER TO BEING DONE!!!!!!!!!! Where are the unsharpened pencils? I feel the need to shove a few into my eyeballs.

I love him, but sometimes . . . sometimes I just don't understand him.


And now the reminder portion of this post:

It is time to vote for Miss RSJS once again.

Please do take the time to vote for your favorite finalist (ahem). She would be oh so appreciative (loud cough). All 5 are amazing women, but there can only be (clears throat) one Miss RSJS. So vote. Please. Mmmkay?

You can do it here or here.
You can't do it just anywhere.
We hope you vote for your favorite girl.
Remember the she-pirate with lots of curl.

She will love you, yes she will.
She will love you up a hill.
She will love you till she dies.
She will love you even after a pig flies.

You should go vote for Miss RSJS
You should go vote - Uhhhh . . . yes yes yes!!

Vote often.
Vote well.
Remember, today was payday so I have paid MasterCard. They should quit denying me by 5pm.

Sometimes you just get lucky

Paul said that canned cinnamon rolls for breakfast would be fine instead of eggs and biscuits and gravy.

He also got out of bed by like, 8. Since yesterday was his 10th day straight of work, I thought this was a mighty feat.

He is now at Wal*Mart picking up his paycheck.

Then he is coming back here to get the pickup so he can go to Lowe's where he will then buy the four sheets of sheetrock that we so desperately need to finish that thorn in my side playhouse ceiling. I told him that even though I'm no taller than an Oompa Loompa, I would gladly hand him things while he puts the sheetrock up and bring him glasses of sweet tea and talk incessantly if that would help. Once the ceiling is done, then we can put the panelling on the walls. And then, put down the flooring.

And finally, after nearly 4 months, the playhouse will be completed.

It's about time.

For the record

If there ever comes a day when I eat a cinnamon roll without unrolling it first, that will mean that I am truly devoid of happiness and my soul is completely dead.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

10 minutes left to whine

Totally taking advantage of the last little bit of allowed whining.

*My face is so broken out I feel like I should be wearing braces and recording songs off the radio with my jam box. It's not fair that I am 32 years old and am still plagued with zits.

*My head quit hurting for about 6 hours. Now it hurts again.

*I washed pots and pans this afternoon (Why did I buy the kind you can't put in the dishwasher?) then turned around and made dinner and now have all the same pots and pans to wash again.

*I just took my shoes off about an hour ago and already my foot hurts. I guess I will just have to wear shoes 24/7 for the rest of my life to keep from being in pain. That's gonna suck. So much for that tattoo on my foot.

*I am tired, but my sister and her husband haven't picked up their kids yet and I can't just go off to bed, knowing they'll be here (hopefully) shortly.

*Tomorrow is payday - which is normally cause for much jubiliation for the folks at Discover Card and Sears Financial because they finally get some money - but pretty much all of it is going toward bills. Namely Discover and Sears.

*While it's great that we've finally nailed down a fairly definitive time to be completely and 100% out of debt, sadly that time is not tomorrow.

Whew! Finished with 3 minutes to spare!

Mi familia

Last night my mother acknowleged my blogging. I nearly cried.

See, Mom has this sincere belief that because of blogging and the perilous internet in which I traipse about wearing untied shoes and carrying sharp scissors all day long, that I will subsequently end up dead, chopped up and stuffed into a 55 gallon barrel. (Hillbilly Mom has nightmares about this now.)

Mom believes that blogging is evil. And at first this hurt my feelings - the thought that there was actually something in my life that my mother didn't approve of. (Well, okay, blogging AND the tattoos . . . so that's two somethings.) But as time went on I realized that it wasn't just Mom - pretty much the whole family thinks I'm a loony for writing about my life on the internet and mentioning such things as Really Loud The Kids Are Out Of The House Sex and my fruit fly problem and the fact that some days I don't get out of my pajamas at all.

And I'm okay with the fact that they think I'm nuts. I kind of like it that way.

But last night, Mom and I were just visiting while the kids played and I off-handedly said, "Oh, by the way, I know you probably really don't care, but I made it into the top five in that beauty pageant." She said, "Oh yeah, the ladies in the LRC (fancy college name for the library) have been reading you. They think you're hilarious. Sloane told me she thinks you're talented." I was stunned. Not only was she acknowledging the fact that I write, but she was also admitting that someone else thinks I might have talent!

Before I go further: HEY LRC LADIES!! Thanks, Jennifer, for reading me and laughing so loud that the others had to see what was so entertaining.

That was pretty much the gist of the conversation. She visited with me about blogging awhile, but she really had little to say about it. Hey, baby steps. I'm not expecting her to go out and get her own or anything, nor do I expect her to start reading me. I'll take the occasional acknowlegement and be happy. There are so many other things in my life that Mom is proud of me for that if she holds out on the blogging approval, I can give her that.

When the kids and I were ready to go later, I hugged her and thanked her for the Diet Coke, paper towels and trash bags she had bought me (My gosh, that woman is such a lifesaver). I said, "I love you, Mom." She said, "I love you, too, my little redneck diva."

Man, that was good.


I was telling Sis last night that soon my blog will take on a new look. I have a new template design coming and was telling her what it looks like. Without spoiling it for y'all before it gets here, I can at least say that the likeness is well, not my likeness. Sis was listening to my description and when I was done said, "You realize you are going to have to put a disclaimer on there that says 'This is not me. Please do not stalk me. I do not look like this.'" I laughed and said, "Nah, I don't think a disclaimer is necessary because right under the picture of the hottie is a picture of me doing this:"

"so, yeah, I think they'll figure out which one's the real me pretty quick."

She said, "Oh okay. So you should have no problem with stalkers then."

I nearly forgot to whine

I was just sitting here all melancholy thinking that I really didn't have much to write today, then I remembered it's WHINEY WEDNESDAY!!!!

And right now, I can't think of that many things to whine about, but I'll give it a shot. Usually I get whine-inspired as I get going.

* I have a headache. I've had it all morning and so far it shows no signs of worsening or lessening - it's just there.

* My foot doesn't hurt today. Now, one might wonder why I am whining about being pain-free, but when you consider the fact that its not hurting because I am wearing tennis shoes and I'd really rather be barefoot, you'd see that it truly is cause to whine.

* Why do flipflops have to be so bad for you when they look so darn cute?

* I miss Cousin Stacey. (I think this one's pretty much standard on my WW posts.)

* My utility room is a mess.

* My office is a mess.

* My dining room is not as big of a mess as the utility room and office, but it's still a mess.

* "I want an Oompa Loompa now, Daddy!"

* The soap opera dialogue that I'm listening to is really starting to get on my nerves. Get a grip, woman. Of course she's probably going to kill you because that is what evil twin stepmother clones do to their illegitimate son's second cousin's nanny's former boyfriend's girlfriend. Geez, everybody knows that.

* I still don't have the new Harry Potter book.

* My husband ate all of my Oreo 100 Calorie Packs.

* Oh great, now the soap opera I am listening to is in the middle of a "I have all of my makeup on in the morning and my hair is perfect and no, darling, your breath doesn't smell like rancid cauliflower on a July afternoon" love scene. I really need to turn off the TV.

That's it. I'm done whining. I'm going to go turn that TV off now and take some Tylenol and then close my eyes and will this headache away so that when the kids get up from rest time we can go outside and enjoy this 75 degree weather that I am SO not whining about today!

Tuesday, July 26, 2005


Okay, first of all, let me just get this out of the way and then we can move onto the more exciting and fun things of the day -


There. Got that out of the way.

Oh, the swelling is gone. In fact, I'm back to having two completely normal looking feet attached to myself. Yet, there is still much pain. Much. When the swelling was present, the pain was on top of the foot. Now that the swelling is no more, the pain is on the bottom of the foot in the heel. This is plantar fasciitis. If Mr. Native American Doctor didn't think I had it before, well I do now. And it's a bitch.

I woke up at 1:40 this morning because I had to pee something fierce and when my right foot hit the floor, my knees buckled and I nearly went to the ground. Fortunately my bedroom is small and we have enormous furniture, so I was able to brace myself against the wall and various pieces of furniture until I got to the doorway. Once I got to the hallway, I hopped on my left foot. Yeah. Picture me hopping to my bathroom, full bladder, wearing only a t-shirt, mooning the heck out of my sleeping house (Thank God they were sleeping!). I'd hop and groan, hop and groan. I sat on the toilet panting, not from the exercise but from the pain. No kidding. I have had three children, two with no drugs, and it wasn't that bad of an experience. But this - this HURTS like a motherfucker, people. When I got up this morning I had to put some pants on so I wouldn't moon Jill and Chandler when they got here and oh, putting on pants without being able to put any weight on one foot is a hilarious event to watch, I'm sure. Anyone who would've seen me do it would've laughed their asses off. I, however, was not laughing. Okay, I was doing that laugh/cry thing where you start to cry from the pain and frustration, then you realize what a ridiculous situation you are in and then mix in giggles with the sobs.

I called my mom's work number so I wouldn't wake up my sleeping sister and her family, left her a voice mail to call me, then sat in the recliner, sweating and waiting for Mom to call. When she called she was very sympathetic, but she didn't know what to do any more than I did. I guess I just needed my momma to tell me I'd live. She said she'd had it before when she was younger and it lasted about a month. From what I hear and have read, that's about how long it takes plantar fasciitis to get better.

But here's the thing: I am working out, doing my dead-level best to make my body healthier. Yet, working out is aggrivating the hell out of my "condition". Damned if I do, damned if I don't. ACH!!!!!

Okay, venting over.


Our kittens are 6 weeks old now. My niece has waited so patiently for hers, too. So when Sunday rolled around, their six-week birthday, she was all fired up to take her kitten home. When I mentioned this to Mr. Diva he informed me that they are too little to leave just yet. And to be truthful, they are pretty small. They're healthy and playful and they're eating some solids, but they still aren't very big. Sis was miffed that we were making her child wait longer and I even volunteered to explain it to TotOne, but what could I do. I'd rather make TotOne wait a bit longer to take home a healthier, bigger kitten rather than take home one too soon and it die and oh then there would be much drama.

But I think any worry about those kittens not being ready to make it on their own was vanquished this morning when Abby went out to feed the cats and no sooner made it out the door when I heard her screaming "Oh good Lord in Heaven!!! Ooh!! Oooh!! Yuck! Yuck!! Put that thing DOWN!! Lordy, Lordy!! OH I'M GONNA BE SICK!!" I naturally busted out laughing at her exclamations and then headed out to find out what caused them. She was standing on the carport, hand over her mouth, eyes as big as saucers, watching 4 of the 5 kittens go to town on a fairly good-sized field rat. I'm sure the mama caught it for them and brought it up for them to munch on, as all good mousing mothers do, but in Abby's mind that was just wrong, wrong, wrong. She said, "Oh gosh, Mom!! They're just - just - EATING it!!"

Of course, the other 3 kids had to have a gander at the scene and of course, they all groaned, oohed and ahhed. Then when the kittens were thoroughly worn out from wrestling and eating a dead rat almost as big as they are, they all went to their momma to wash the rat down with some warm milk. Abby gagged and said, "They have blood on their mouths and she's just letting them suck. on. her. TITTIES!!" I put my arm around her shoulder and just ushered her back in the house. She's playing her GameBoy now, but occasionally she'll wander in here and make some dry comment about the nasty kittens and their nasty habits.


Karen, my blogsister from Karbon Kounty Moos is hosting the Rascal Fair today. It's a Montana thing. Check out what she put together for it. It deserves a blue ribbon for sure! And she included some honorary Montana bloggers - Sam, Babs, and me, to name a few!

Speaking of fairs . . .
Now, for all of you who have some vacation time left, y'all mark off the 3rd week of August. That's when Ottawa County holds their Annual Free Fair. The fair is a big deal around here, lemme tell ya. There are enough FFA jackets at the fair to make Napoleon Dynamite proud. FFA, 4-H, FCCLA, Extension Office, not the mention the political candidates and businesses vying for your attention - it's an exciting time. I think the only year I missed the fair was when I was pregnant with Kady and it was just too hot, but even then, Mr. Diva took the kids. Heck, I even went to the fair with a kidney stone one year! That's how big of a deal the fair is around here. My first date was to the fair even! We walk the livestock exhibits and get cedar shaving in our sandals, we smell the "dairy air", pet the hogs and sheep, see just about everyone we know, get our fair share of ballons, rulers, pencils and rumor has it, my uncle's crew will be slinging snow cones again this year. I don't let the kids ride the carnival rides because well, there are carnies there! And if your relative is a carnie, or you are one yourself, I apologize for any stereotyping, but man . . . you gotta admit, it's easy to do.

So anyway, last year, in an attempt to instill a sense of hometown pride and bolster the attendance at the fair, the Fair Board put together activities throughout the week in conjunction with the fair. A lawnmower race, a concert, I think maybe a buck-out or something like that, etc.

Well, you can only imagine my excitement when I heard over the 4th of July weekend that this year, they will also be hosting


That's right. A freakin' demolition derby. The Elks didn't hold theirs this spring and I was beginning to wonder if it was going to be a derby-less year, but thankfully the fine County Fair Board folks that held the key to my happiness, well, turned that happiness key in my happiness lock and well, I'm one happy redneck. Lots of happy around here.

My friend, Jeff, who has one other derby under his belt and who was actually going to let me drive his car Powder Puff that first year (but it fell through) told me he has an Impala for me if I can only find a tranmission. In our derby watching we have found that Impalas make for some heavy-duty demolition cars. Not sure why, but they hold up amazingly well and that's what I wanted. The Derby gods saw fit to bestow an Impala on me this year. A few weeks ago we saw Andy ("Hightower") and asked if he knew where we could find a transmission for it. He has one!! Could it get any better than that?????? Last night Andy mosied up to Shannon and I while we were talking and I asked him again about it. He said he was saving it back for me still. Score!!!

So now, I just have to make the magic happen. Oh, not me personally! I wouldn't know where to stick a transmission if my life depended on it, but it's up to me to make Mr. Diva insert said transmission into said Impala and - well, nothing else seems to fit here - git 'r done. Hmh, that was strangely satisfying. Git 'r done. Who knew?

So anyway, anyone who will be around towards the end of August you've just gotta come by and see the show!! Visit our little fair, have a snow cone and some cheese on a stick and then come watch me voluntarily smash the hell out of my car!!

Monday, July 25, 2005

My chest is glowing

Mr. Diva and I finally cleaned out the pool last night. But only after I threatened to lose my ever-lovin' mind. We were sitting at the table enjoying our fabulous, out of season turkey dinner and the children were just talking and talking and talking and I looked at Mr. Diva, placed my hand lovingly on his arm and said, "I have been cooped up in this house with your offspring for over a week now. It's too hot for them to play outside. The pool is disgusting. We have done every craft I know how to do. The children are dabbling in nuclear physics out of sheer boredom. If I don't get out of this house tomorrow, someone will surely die." He only halfway grinned before he realized that I was dead freakin' serious. He shoved a huge bite in his mouth and mumbled around the food, "I'll clean out the pool as soon as I'm done eating, dear. And would you like to work out tomorrow night? Ooh and isn't tomorrow night Ladies' Night, too? Why don't you go and I'll just take care of the kids." I don't think he necessarily wanted a night with the kids, but I think he feared for their safety if I didn't get a break.

So after dinner the five of us cleaned out the pool and refilled it. While I, in an obsessive/compulsive frenzy, spent 45 minutes working the wrinkles out of the floor, the husband and children sprayed each other and me with the hose. However, I didn't cackle with delight like they did when they got sprayed. When I was exhausted and had broken three nails from pulling the liner into submission, I found a lawnchair and sat down to watch the circus. Suddenly I heard quacking. Lots and lots of quacking. And then the flapping of wings.

The old momma cat had the duck!! The poor duck was flapping her heart out, trying to get away and was doing a pretty good job, until she went too low in anticipation of the surface of the water and the cat got her by the tail feathers. I yelled, "THE CAT'S GOT THE DUCK!!!" and the chase was on. The kids took off toward the pond, running, screaming and squalling. Mr. Diva took off running as well, but only got a few feet before his soaking wet jean shorts started falling down, so the run to the pool was more like a hitch with a hop and a hobble. I was doubled over laughing at my family running to this poor duck's rescue. Fortunately they reached the pair and he beat the cat off the duck and all was well. But my goodness, I got an ab workout last night from laughing at the scene.

So today, the kids and I decided to swim in our crystal clear pool. But alas, the water was too cold for me, so I sat in a lawnchair and watched them. We were only outside 20 minutes before they were all fighting and calling names and my threats to dunk them till they bubbled stopped working so I made everyone get out. 20 minutes outside and my chest is now glowing red. 20 minutes and I have a very crispy lady-bug. 20 minutes and I now feel like I'm a walking volcano. Of course, did my legs get any sun? My legs were out there just as much as my chest was, but they are still pearly freakin' white. Figures.

I am supposed to leave to work out in 9 minutes.

My husband is still not home.

Remember what I said over the weekend about chaining the children to the treadmill in order to get a workout in? That may take place if he doesn't get here soon. I have to get out of here because the donuts - they are calling still. The kids ate donuts for snack this afternoon. I told them they could have them after dinner, too. Breakfast? You betcha kids. They'll all end up in diabetic comas, but at least the demon donuts will be gone and will quit taunting me with their sugary goodness.


To all of those who placed your votes for li'l ol' me -




You will never know how much it means to me that you all voted the heck outta me and got into the top five. Voting for the winner starts Wednesday night at midnight.

Oh and btw, I hope y'all are bookmarking and reading Sam as well! He's a great blogger. And while I'm not a big comic book fan like he is, I do find his posts about celebrities and little bits and pieces of trivia absolutely interesting. I have shared several with my mother (who is a die-hard hater or all things blog) and she even likes him! So Sam, buddy, if my momma likes you, you know you are liked, indeed!!


My mother in law dropped by this morning and brought the kids some grapes and cantaloupe. She's funny like that. She'll just show up sometimes with bags and bags of food. I used to get offended, thinking she thought I didn't feed the kids and her son properly or something. I'm over that now - heck, it's free food. Actually, I think she just remembers what it's like to have mouths to feed and sometimes you can't buy them everything they want. She helps out a lot. But sometimes she cracks me up with the buying of the food. So today's bags held about six pounds of grapes and two cantaloupes. The kids were ecstatic. So was I. They are low Points and they get me closer to my 5 servings of fruits and veggies a day.

I was a little less than ecstatic, though, when I saw her bring in the dozen and a half of donuts. Oh yes, she stopped and bought 18 fresh, yummy, delicious, glazed donuts this morning and then brought them into my house. My house that is devoid of junk food now. I love that woman to pieces, but I could've choked her this morning! I know I stared at them the entire time we visited. I couldn't help it! Pastries are my downfall. If it's bread and sweet and quite possibly deep-fried, I am SO all over it. And really the kids were okay without the donuts. I took them to the donut shop last week, so they were all caught up on their donut quota for awhile.

I felt like White Goodman in Dodgeball with the food he was taunting himself with. Of course, I did NOT - I repeat, DID NOT - attach electrical cables to my nipples NOR did I stuff a donut at any time down my pants, but I could totally relate to the wanting to eat the food you know is really bad for you.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

There's a turkey in the oven, dear Liza, dear Liza

Ever since GS camp, we've been singing "There's a Hole in the Bucket" so that's what prompted the title. But there really is a turkey in my oven. If you're out there reading, dear Liza. Whoever you are.

I've been buying those Honeysuckle White turkey breasts lately. They are some seriously well endowed turkeys, lemme tell ya. Probably just chock full of hormones and growth-enhancers, but it makes for one awesome dinner, so we'll just leave it at that. Everyone but Sam likes turkey around here, so he eats popcorn chicken while we feast upon bird boob. (The first time I fixed one Abby goes, "OH YUCK I am NOT eating bird boobies!!!") Of course, it's 115 outside and I've got my oven on. I'm a moron. I'm also doing laundry. But hey, in my credit, the peak alert thingy said "Avoid using ALL major appliances" and then in smallish words underneath it said, "Households with the elderly and small children, disregard". I have small children. I'm disregarding. Hey, it's either do laundry or we all go naked tomorrow. I know that it probably means only to use important things like the air conditioner and oh let's say your oxygen tank, but hey, a girl's gotta have drawers to wear.

And man, it is hot in my office. See, we have a 1922 sq ft home and one, count 'em ONE, window unit in the dining room to cool the entire thing. The kitchen and dining room are certifiably arctic (unless you've got the oven on), the living room is comfortable, but you walk out here to the toyroom/office and you break out into a sweat. You get about halfway down the hall toward the bedrooms and you start gasping for air. The kids and I worked in the back of the house until about 9 this morning and by then we were all sweating and we gave up. I got my dresser cleaned off, arranged my husband's dresser and hung up some curtains and a few pictures. The kids cleaned their rooms, so we accomplished quite a bit before we gave up to find cooler quarters.

I finished another book last night. Summer Sisters by Judy Blume . Oh it was good! The library didn't have The Lover and I had forgotten anything else that was on my list, so I just started browsing. Judy Blume's name caught my eye (What young girl didn't read Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, Blubber and Super Fudge?) so I thought I'd give it a go. I read 5 chapters the day I got it, during Sam's hour-long karate class. When I started last night, I was about 1/3 of the way through. I finished it just shy of midnight last night. Anyone have any other recommendations? Nothing too romancey, or heavy. Just something good. I have two weeks left of summer and I need some reading material. I've tried re-reading the Mitford books, but they are more winter reading material to me. Very homey and feel-goody. I can't wait till the weather turns cooler to start reading them again. But in the meantime, I need something to keep me entertained.

The storm last night had the potential of being awesome, but kind of fizzled out. As is pretty typical around here. I guess Small Town Starlit, though, had some excitement at her house and some lightning. We got some rain and wind and LOTS of lightning, but none of it hit the house. The kids and I went out onto the carport to watch the storm come in. Mr. Diva hadn't made it home by the time I thought he should've, so I called the store. His boss said he should've been home by now. I'm a bit skittish when he's on the bike, so I started worrying. The wind was gusting around 50 mph, we were seeing lots of cloud-to-ground lightning and I could just see him laying that bike down or getting electrocuted. Then in between claps of thunder we heard the bike then saw him come through the trees positively FLYING. He pulled under the carport just as the rain started. He said he drove 80 and 90 all the way home. Gee, which would've been worse - lightining strike or cycle wreck in shorts, wearing no helmet, driving 90mph on a hot highway? Hmmmm . . . We had several limbs down when it was over, but nothing too bad. For pop-up thunderstorm that no one was expecting, it was a nice bit of excitement.

Oh yeah, been meaning to mention these two ladies for a few days, so I'll just take that opportunity right now -

First of all, Irish Divinity has found out that Baby Divinity is a BOY!!! The Divinity's already have two girls, so they were pretty excited to find out that this one is a testosterone-laden little fetus. Congrats, Stormie!!

And now, another hometown blogger just started up her own little corner of the blogosphere last week - From the Mental Block of April. Stop by and tell April hey! She's a riot in real life and I think she'll do just fine with a blog of her own.

Well, I need to go slather some butter allll over my turkey's boob to make it all pretty and brown and then figure out a Point-friendly dessert. I have kind of been off the wagon this weekend. It's not like I've eaten a package of Oreos or anything, but I just haven't been too strict on portions. I didn't get to work out but one day last week! It makes a difference in my motivation if I can't work out. Mr. Diva was working the late shift all durn week so scheduling was a real bitch. This week, though, I don't care if I have to chain the children to the treadmill, I'm working out!! My friend Tiff, lost 12 pounds last month thanks to a prescription of Phentermine. I WANT SOME PHENTERMINE OF MY OWN!! But Mr. Native American Doctor thinks I should lose 10 pounds on my own before he should write me a scrip. Dooderhead. I want it now!

Man . . . 12 pounds . . . that would like get me back into the stylin' capris I bought last summer that my fat ass hasn't been able to fit into this summer . . . motivation . . . that's what I'll call those capris from now on - my Motivation Capris.

Saturday, July 23, 2005

The internet is a wonderful place

Of course, being a slave to my counter stats, I have been keeping watchful eye on them since the Miss RSJS pageant got off and running. Well, when I check my stats, I also have to check out my referrers. I just have to see where the hits are coming from.

It appears that Dirty Ashtray shouted out some other Okies. Of course, I'm honored that they mentioned me, but Sean seems very angry and perhaps sullen. In a good way, of course. Of course, he called all of us using Blogger idiots, so that might not be good, but hey, lately I'm a traffic slut, so I'll take what I can get. He also shouted out Brian, too. If you've never read Brian, you simply must. He's amazing and a great writer and well, just check him out .

I also got in Mike's Okie Round-up over at Okiedoke. I am always thrilled to make the RoundUp! He mentioned Babs and I both for being in the pageant. I like what Mike has to say. He makes me think. And laugh.

This one is amusing. Someone found me through a search for "Heather AND Olive Garden". I know how they got here because Heather (Sis) and I did go to Olive Garden AND I blogged about it, but I'm just not sure why someone would search for Heather AND Olive Garden. It's a mystery.

Yikes, I'd love to continue this shoutout/roundup session but it seems a storm is upon us and we weren't supposed to get rain until like Tuesday. It looks nasty and my husband is riding his motorcycle home from work. He hasn't ridden it in a week. Of all damn days.

I think I'll go out and stand in the yard, like any good redneck would do.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Mmm . . . Chocolate

Sis and I took the kids to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory last night. It rucking focked, dudes. I, personally, am a die-hard Gene Wilder fan and he will always be the one real true Willie Wonka, but man, Johnny Depp did a great job at as well. Although, there were more than a few times during the movie when I got the willies when I thought that for a moment or two he reminded me of Michael Jackson. *shudder* But all told, I thought it was a great movie and we will be buying it on DVD. Oh yes, the Diva family is going to go all-out, full Monty and we are buying the DVD. You know it's made an impression on me if I do that. No regular, ordinary VHS tape for us, nosiree.

When Charlie open the bar of chocolate to find his golden ticket, my niece, TotOne, shouted out in pure excitement, "HE'S FOUND THE GOLDEN TICKET!!!" Everyone in the theatre laughed. She's also the kid that blurted out in the middle of Brother Bear, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO BROTHER BEAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!!" when the little guy fell off a cliff or something. She tends to get a bit wrapped up in her movies.

About halfway through Kady got up out of her chair, grabbed her Sierra Mist and box of Junior Mints and said, "Okay. That's enough Willie Wonka. I'm tired and I want to go home now," in a very Veruca Salt kind of way. I sat her back up in her seat and said, "Sorry, Princess. Mommy's having too much fun. Now sit down and have more chocolate."

After the movie I asked all of the kids which one they liked better - old or new. All 5 very loudly proclaimed that the new one was best. I was a bit disappointed in that, because I've raised those kids on the original, but hey the new one does have less freaky looking Oompa Loompas. Albeit they are still freaky looking, but in less of a green-haired, dwarvish looking way. I gotta give it that. When we were in the bathroom after the movie we were discussing the best parts and Abby said, "Well, I just wanna know where they got that many Oompa Loompas that look just alike!!" Then we had a discussion about computer graphics and effects. I felt like I ruined a bit of magic with that, but I know her well enough that she'd never have been satisfied with a theory like a rather large family had auditoned for the Oompa Loompas. Sam would've, but not Abby.

My favorite line in the original movie is when Violet's dad watches his daughter turn into a blueberry and exclaims, "Violet! You're turning violet, Violet!" That has always cracked me up for some reason. They left off the last "Violet" in the new one, so I was a bit disappointed and embarrassed as I was quoting along and said the word "Violet" on my own to the entire theatre. Sam liked the part where Willie Wonka says to Veruca, "Don't touch that squirrel's nuts!" He cackled like a loon. But then again, we all know how Sam feels about his nuts.

After the movie everyone came back here and we played PS2 for awhile. We started out with Polar Express, but Sis said it was a baby game and was too easy. I leaned over and said, "Uhhh, yeah. It's kind of made for kids." Then we played Eve of Destruction and ran over each other with school buses. That was awesome.


Tonight is the last night of Wal*Mart week at Quapaw Casino. All week long Mr. Diva's been going out there on his lunch hour and playing BlackJack and the slots. He's actually made some money, so it's a good thing. Tonight they are doing some pick a pot thing and then at 10:00 there's a $500 drawing just for Wal*Mart associates. We are so going to be there.


Have a good weekend, y'all! And don't forget to vote here or here for Miss RSJS!

I see speech therapy in her future

My youngest child is a bit Dutchy when it comes to her speech. She's better than she used to be, but still sometimes things don't come out quite right. I am her translator for the most part. I can decipher what she says better than anyone.

But when she walked up to me just now with this postively angelic look on her face and said,

"Momma, I just let Chandler play with my tits."

even I was a bit taken aback.

I leaned closer to her and asked, "Ummm....what'd you say, hon?" She just grinned and said, "I am letting Chandler play with my tits. You know, my tits!" Slowly I walked to the toyroom, very concerned as to what I might find.

Imagine my relief when I saw Chandler holding her stuffed alien, Stitch.

The last two nominees and THE VOTING HAS BEGUN!

The last two ladies to get in on the Miss RSJS fun are:

Babs from The Conversation Station (Babs is an Okie, a homeschooling mom and is responsible for starting the whole "baby copperhead" thing for Karen. Babs rocks, in my opinion.)

Heidi from The Beat (She's a fangirl, which I guess is what fanboys like? Right? I used to have a Smurfs comic book . . . I bet she thinks I'm a dork now . . .)


Okay, that's it. All the entries are in and Sam has the little votey thing up so friends, fellow-bloggers . . . I just checked my standings . . . I'm at ZERO PERCENT. That is totally not good. I at least want to make the top five!!!! Of course, winning the whole thing would be great, but at least get me to the top five!!

Please vote now.


Go on.

What are you still doing here?

Vote already!

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Nominees running out our ears

Sam, did you have any idea when you started this just exactly what you were doing?? You've started something pretty damn cool, dude.


Laura of The Artful Blogger (She has a cherub for a daughter!)

Paige of The Wench's Brothel (Paige is simply a love and WHAT a writer!!)

Karen of karbonkountymoos (My dear BlogSister. She calls me her very own doppleganger!)

Pammie from ThE EmAnCiPaTiOn oF pAmMie (Whew! Just that creative spelling has to mean she's got something cool to say!)


Voting begins after midnight tonight!!

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Straight from Fruit Fly Central

Those of you who asked to be interviewed today, your questions are in the comments! Now get busy!


Sunday night we all took our turns going to the Turtle for our free pj party money. Mom, Sis and I left here just a hair after midnight and returned home around 3:30am. They made everyone bring their id's and they personally had to write down our info. It took forEVER! The line was wound around the casino twice. Oy. The boys left as soon as we got back home and got home around 5:30. So that was two nights in a row we got in bed at around 5am. By Monday we were dead. But I walked out of there with $40, so I was happy. Of course, I shared $20 of it with Paul who promptly lost it.


Monday night I attended a Girl Scout Service Unit meeting at our SU director's house. Sherry, the director, is just about one of the nicest people you will ever meet. She and her husband are theatre people and of course, I totally think they rock. (I had her husband as an instructor at NEO - well, until I dropped the class due to exhaustion) We were all sitting around the living room, visiting, just generally having a great time. We talked scouts, we talked kids, we just talked. I really needed the grown-up conversation.

The conversation turned to an upcoming project where the girls make small pins and swap them with other girls, thus calling the event a "swap". Various ones were being passed around the room and everyone was admiring and complimenting. One is called a "friendship knot" or something - anyway it looks like a backwards swastika. Someone said something to the effect of "We don't want anyone thinking we're making Girl Scouts into Nazis". Something like that. Well, I took that as my opportunity to open my big fat mouth and promptly cram in two size nine and a halfs. I said, "Well, as far as I'm concerned, the camp already employs Nazis!" This sparked interest and everyone started asking what happened. I told them the story about some midget, Nazi chick who got all up in my grill and made me take off my 'do rag. April said, "Oh my! Which one was it?" I said, "Ach!! Some little Nazi named Storm!" A collective gasp came from the group and suddenly everyone pointed at Sherry. She looked surprised and I couldn't figure out why. Until she said, "That's my daughter!"

Oh good heavens I think I blushed purple. Fortunately, Sherry is a saint and frankly, everyone thought it was freakin' hilarious. I, however, wanted to die and fall into the nearest hole. It became a joke throughout the evening and honestly if Sherry was offended she didn't show it. After everyone had left, she even asked me to stay for a few minutes. I thought "Well, here it comes - I'm going to be fired from Girl Scouts," but instead she told me she needed my help brainstorming about a recruting thing. Whew. Then she asked me exactly what went down at camp so that she could razz Elizabeth about it the next time she talked to her. From what everyone at the meeting said, Elizabeth's actually a very sweet kid. But Sherry explained that when it comes to Scouts, she's all business. Obviously. I can't wait to meet her outside of camp, when she's not kickin' up a "storm".


Yesterday Sis and I worked out together. That was fun. Then my neighbor, Dana, came in towards the end. The only thing that would've made it an even bigger party would've been if Mrs. Coach had shown up. (Girl, I called and Marilyn said she was going to stick a note on your desk. Then today I read how your youngest tried to maliciously kill you and figured you might have had a headache still.) I rowed nearly a mile yesterday, walked not quite a whole mile, and biked about 3. I was sweatin' like crazy when I left. I had to sit through karate wondering if anyone could smell me.



Last night Paul and I finally got to watch Dodgeball. Oh my gosh, that is a HILARIOUS movie. I was laughing out loud through the whole thing. Of course, I was also gagging and groaning a bit at parts. Truly entertaining


How is it that I can't manage to get to bed before 1am these days? I am tired of being tired. It's my own fault, but for some reason I simply can't manage to get my rear to sleep before at least midnight. Then I get up in the morning at the very latest moment I possibly can before Chandler gets here and sit in a stupor watching cartoons with the kids until 10am. I'm actually a big fan of The Backyardigans now.

It's a bad habit. I've been eeking up the kids' bedtime all this week because we've got roughly 2 1/2 weeks till school starts. I need to start working my bedtime up as well. When school starts I add a baby to my Diva Daycare roster. I've also got to re-babyproof my house. *sigh* I guess that means getting rid of the pet fruit flies as well.


Like the illustrations?

Yeah. Me, too.

Be sure to tune in tomorrow for Half-Nekkid Thursday!

Whiney Wednesday

I've only been online in small doses today so I haven't had time to whine till now.

Better late than never!

*It's hot.

*It's dry.

*It's summer in Oklahoma.

*Our pool is just plain nasty and I can't really get excited about getting out there and cleaning it.

*While my foot is down to near normal size these days, my middle toes on that foot are now numb. Yet they hurt. Go figure.

*Mr. Diva is in a perpetual state of grumpiness that I fear won't end until either it snows or he gets another job.

*Speaking of jobs, he has a fair shot at a new job, an easier job, making nearly double what he makes now, BUT HE WON'T APPLY. I get very frustrated at this. It's almost like he enjoys being miserable.

*Fruit flies have taken over my house. Yes, the entire house. The kitchen is the worst, but they're in the bathroom, living room and my office. They started in the utility room and have migrated. I have made three different kinds of traps. So far I caught about 20 in the first one, none in the second and one in the third. It's going smashingly.

*Chan fell and busted his chin and the inside of his lower lip today and I feel HORRIBLE about it. He was a trooper and said he was tough, but I still feel like a rotten sitter. When his momma said "He never gets hurt at home" I felt even worse. My kids get hurt all the time - in fact Sam's sporting a black eye right now. Does this mean I'm a horrible, negligent mom/sitter??

*I need a Girls' Night Out.

*My kids have very loud voices tonight. They actually have loud voices all the time, but it's really bothering me tonight.

*I didn't get to work out tonight becasue Mr. Diva's working the late shift this week. That really screws up my workout schedule.

*We are out of groceries and I know that the only way to remedy this is to go to Wal*Mart and buy them. But man, I sure don't want to do that.

*Have I mentioned I need a Girls' Night Out? (Any takers? Girls? Care to rescue a friend in need?)

That's all I care to whine about right now. I think I could get really down tonight if I let myself. So instead, I think I'll just go have a beer and watch The Weather Channel.

Monday, July 18, 2005

I got interviewed by a girl named Sam

Sam at Sam's Stories put out a 5 question interview of her own and then asked if anyone else wanted to be interviewed. Who am I to turn down a chance to have someone ask me questions and then answer them on my blog for all to read?

Sam asks me:

1. If you could have one body part altered what would it be? What would you have done to it?
Simple: My boobs. They are tired and worn out from extended years of usage and seem to do more resting than I would deem normal for the average set of boobs. I have every intention of rewarding myself at the end of this weight-loss journey with a breast augmentation and will install a lift kit. Maybe even some spinners and a set of fuzzy dice.

2. If you had to have sex with a famous girl to keep the world from exploding, who would it be?
I don't have to hestitate for a single second on this one: Gwyneth Paltrow. Even if she did name her daughter Apple, I still think she is gorgeous and sexy and I would gladly overlook the strange naming thing in order to shag her rotten for the sake of the world's safety.

3. If you had to give up toilet paper or showering for three days which would you choose?
Now, this one is a tough one. I have serious toilet paper issues. I buy it by the truckload and if I get below about 12 rolls in the closet I literally panic. Now to the sane person, 12 rolls in the closet is a pretty hefty cushion and really no cause for panic, but I never said I was sane. My first instinct was to say I'd give up the showering, but then again, I am rather fond of not smelling like ass. But then again, three days isn't too awful long of a time . . . And hey, she just said "give up showering", she didn't say baths were out. Technicality, hmh? Why am I putting so much damn thought into this question??

4. If you could make the hair on any part of your body permanently disappear, which part would it be?
My cooter and subsequent bikini line. Plain and simple. I am part Wookiee, I swear. The chin and upper lip hair are waxable and pluckable, the eyebrows I can pay to have mowed and weed-eated, but the cooter . . . well, waxing the cooter just isn't the most pleasant experience, folks. (However, I hear guys say waxing the dolphin is rather nice) Neither is shaving it. It'd just be simpler if it was just gone. Forever.

5. If Mr. Diva's manhood fell off, what would you use instead?
Anything Gwyneth Paltrow had to offer.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

The things I do for Mr. Diva

Not only did I give up the nookie last night while the kids were out - even though I felt like shit and it wasn't the usual loud, boisterous nookie on such an occasion - but I am going to make him a peach pie. Have I ever made a peach pie? Nope. Never.

I had to call my mom to find out if you can use canned peaches and she assures me that it's possible. She says her Betty Crocker cookbook has a specific recipe for using canned peaches, but mine doesn't. She said something about a thickening agent . . . gosh, I think I used all the cornstarch when we made Goop . . . Elmer's glue might work . . . right?

Anyone for pie?


Mr. Diva and I watched a really good movie this afternoon. The Lover was originally a book by Marguerite Duras, but was made into a movie in 1992. I'd never heard of it before, but now I cannot wait to read the book. The movie was erotic and sensual and even though I warned Mr. Diva that it might not be up his alley, he stayed awake through the whole thing. When it was over, I let out a deep sigh and said, "Ohhh, that was just so good! Did you like it?" He replied, "Yep. There was enough nekkidness to keep me awake." Okay, so there were some sex scenes, but they were erotic, not porn. Geez.

We are so going to the library tomorrow so I can check it out. Hot, dry Oklahoma summer and soft porn erotic novels - life is good.


We went 4-wheeler riding this evening, but cut it short when we all got choked up on the massive dust storm we kicked up. Yikes, it's dry out there. Last time we rode there were big trail-wide puddles to ride through and fling mud on your passengers and co-riders. Now they are just deeply rutted holes in the trails. Even PooPoo Lagoon (As Ab so appropriately named it) didn't smell because it had dried up.

Maybe instead of The Lover or The Half-Blood Prince, I should read The Grapes of Wrath.

Gotta love summer in Oklahoma.


The fam's comin' over for our weekly Sunday night get-together. Then it's off to the Pajama Party at The Turtle!! Whoo hoo!! Once school starts we won't go anymore, but for now we're having a friggin' blast. I hope I win enough to buy the new Harry Potter book . . .


Is it wrong to want to drug your youngest, nap-resistant child with massive amounts of Benadryl?

Everyone eats pineapple tidbits on Sunday, don't they?

My hands smell like fish.

Stop gasping and laughing and shaking your heads.

I made Paul some tuna salad for lunch and while I normally drain the tuna in a colander and avoid touching the smelly fish in any way, today I did not. I was in the middle of making mac and cheese (homemade with that yummy free cheese - YUM) for the kids and he was hollering he was hungry, so I was just throwing things all over my kitchen. Both colanders were dirty and I didn't really want to wash them. So I just put the lid on the can cock-eyed and drained it real quick that way. Now I can't get the smell of tuna off of my hands. It's gross. I've washed them a bunch, I've Germ-X'd them a bunch and still, they reek.

While I read blogs, I usually sit with my chin resting on my hand. Ugh, not today. I guess I'll go rub my hands on the faucet and if that doesn't work, douse them in ReaLemon. That oughta feel great on the hangnails.


We went to the 8-man football game last night. We had so much fun! Although, Sis and I decided that quite possibly the general public doesn't find us near as funny as we find ourselves.

I did get "kissed at" by a little guy with Downs Syndrome, though. He was precious!! He had paid for his ticket and when the girl gave him his ticket, he gave her the thumbs up. Then he came over to me and I said, "Can I tear your ticket, please?" He handed it over and I tore it then handed it back to him. I said, "Okay, thanks! You're good to go now. Enjoy the game!" He gave me the thumbs up and then kissed at me! I know I turned 47 shades of red. He was leaning in closer and I thought "I have a feeling I'm going to be kissed here pretty quick" but the fella that was with the guy, grabbed him by the arm and said, "Allllright there, Romeo. Let's go before you get in trouble." He walked off grinning and laughing and kissing at me. Too cute.


When it was nearly half-time at the game, they let us go. We gathered up our men and headed to the parking lot. We called Mom and told her to meet us at Long John Silver's. Now, I haven't been quite as strict this week with eating good, but still I haven't gone off the deep end. I allowed myself some Cheetos the other day and I ate two Oreos, too. But still, I'm watching my portions and what I put in my body. For the most part. Everyone in the group wanted Long John's and I wasn't going to throw a fit and be the odd man out and have everyone be all cranky and stuff, so off we went to eat some fried food.

I got chicken planks because I don't like fish, for the most part. And fries. But I drank a Diet Coke! That balances it all out, right?

Well, for those who don't know, I had my gall bladder removed back in like 1997. Living without a gall bladder isn't that big of a deal really, you just have to watch the amount and kind of fat and hard-to-digest food you eat or else you end up making many sweaty, worried, clench-cheeked sprints to the bathroom so your intestines can relinquish your body of the fat it couldn't process properly. Yeah. It's great. For the most part, I know what food to avoid and if I have to eat it, make sure I am aware of every restroom withing a 10-block radius. Charlie's Chicken is one place that tears my guts up. Long John Silver's is another.

We ended up driving at speeds just over the residential speed limit in Miami in order to get me to a bathroom in enough time. I thought I could make it to the casino, but no such luck. We ended up making a stop at the college where Mom and Bub both work and have keys to get us into the restrooms. As we approached, Sis said to Bub, "Get your keys ready. She's gonna bail as soon as the truck slows down enough. You've got to beat her to the door or it's gonna get messy." Bub just looked scared, like I was really going to intestinally combust in the truck. You could see him get all serious and ready to sprint. Paul's been married to me long enough to know the routine: Approach building at high rate of speed, pull vehicle as close to door as possible, slow vehicle only enough to allow wife to bail without injury (and subsequently messing herself) and then wait.

We were like a SWAT labor team on the move. Heather was in the back saying, "Are you okay? Are you gonna make it? Breathe. Just breathe. Big deep breaths..." I was giggling and trying not to poop myself. Bub was stretching his large muscles in order to make the sprint to the door successfully. Paul was cutting across yards and curbs. It's rather funny how everyone gets involved.

When I walked out of the building, properly purged of the demon cooking grease, I was pulling the hand sanitizer from my purse. Paul was leaned against the truck talking to Mom, who had pulled up right after we did, but I was too busy running and focusing on the door to the building to notice. Mom has had her gall bladder removed as well. She had this look of pure sympathy on her face. She patted my arm and said, "You okay, hon?"

My family rocks.


After the bathroom escapade, we headed to the Big Fancy Casino. We gambled. Moderately successfully. But man, was I not feeling too good. All that fat and those carbs and oooooh I was not feeling well at all. I needed water, but the water was funky so I just ate ice until I finally gave up and tried a Diet Coke. That tasted funkier than the water so I drank a real Coke. Hey, I'd already ingested an truckload of calories and fat, what's a Coke gonna hurt at that point? I was tired, I felt weak and shaky and I wasn't winning all that much money. I was cranky, I admit it.


OOh my brother in law and his girlfriend are here. Unannounced. As usual. What is UP with my in-laws not calling before they show up? EVERY ONE of them do it! I know these people have phones. Of course, they probably know if they called first, we would pretend we aren't here... Just kidding. Okay, no I'm not. Okay, really. Just kidding. Uhhh.....nevermind.

More nominees!!!

Good heavens, we are a bunch of beautiful women! All these nominees for Miss RSJS are just rockin' the house, ya'll!! Check 'em all out, but come back and vote for the one waving the MasterCard.

The next four (links on the sidebar, too):

Gina from Gina's Rantspot (That girl's got cleavage! And relationship advice!)

Erica from Swirlspice (The Amazing Race??? Did you know I sent an audition tape to The Biggest Loser?)

Robin from A.K.A Binsk (She gets Half-Nekkid, too!)

Lisa from Bacon on the Run (She's married to a monkey - that in itself is damn cool)

Still taking applications from those who want to be paid to vote for me.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

Saturday i-in my office, I'm hiding from the ki-ids*

(*Cheesy Chicago reference.)

I'm in one of those funky moods today. I'm tired, but I'm borderline hyper. I want to be left alone. I'm hungry, but I don't want to eat. I want to get in the car and drive, but wind up at a cottage somewhere that I can hole up for a few days. I want to be alone, but I want to be in the middle of a crowd of people. I'm content, but I'm restless. Ever get like that?


During the night I was awakened once to my husband grabbing me by the head and elbowing me in the forehead, right above my eye. If I don't have a bruise, it'll be a miracle. I just slapped him and rolled over. He's a horrible sleeper - kicks, punches, cusses, etc. A few hours later I was awakened by him jabbing his knee into my thigh. I slapped him again and as I rolled over I told him that if I felt one more of his body parts touching, hitting, kicking or jabbing me I would simply kill him and put him out of my misery. He laughed and just snuggled up to spoon with me. We both went back to sleep. A mere 30 minutes later I was awakened by the sound of him growling at me! Growling! Like, barking like a dog and growling! My husband growled at me, people. Not only was he beating the tar out of me all night, but he also growled. I sat bolt upright in bed, after my heartbeat slowed down enough that I could breathe once more, and shoved him in the chest and said, "What was THAT all about!?!?" He laughed and said, "Uhhh....I was dreaming there were these dogs growling at me and I, uh, didn't know what to do so I uhhh.....growled back?" I shook my head. He tried to pull me back down to snuggle again, but I said, "Forget you, Wolfman Jack. I'm going to the couch."


The kittens are a mere week from leaving the Diva ranch and moving on to bigger and better litterboxes. Chan's getting one of the grey tomcats, which he says he's going to call "Junior". TotOne is taking "Blondie", the uh, blonde one. That leaves two orange ones, "Marcia Brady" and "Cindy Brady" and the other tom, "Junior". (Yes, that's two named Junior. But hey, when you've got two Bradys in the box as well, anything's a go.) Plus two mama cats that will probably both end up knocked up before we know it. Not to mention the ever-faithful Jakie, who isn't quite sure what to think of all these cats roaming about his place.

I know I promised pics yesterday, but my sister took my camera this morning to take some shots at their house, so until I get it back, I can't download anything. Patience, Grasshopper. Patience. I know you're all dying to see some cute, fluffy kitten pics.


Tonight Sis and I are working another 8-man football game. This time we're taking tickets, not selling programs. I really enjoyed selling the programs. I'd lure 'em in with my drop-dead smile then convince them that $1 for a program was actually cheap, PLUS they got $30 worth of casino vouchers with purchase. We sold a buttload. Tonight we just get to tear tickets.

On the upside, we're going out after the game. To where....can anyone guess? *sings "Luck, be a lady to-niiiiiiiiight...."* Yeah, baby. Plus, we've got an overnight sitter. Now, if I could just win $1100 about 10 times tonight I'd be insanely happy and the day would be complete. Why $1100 10 times? At $1199 you have to pay taxes. So if I win $1100 a bunch of times I'm not taxed on any of it!!! Hey, it could happen. This chick we know won $8000 two weekends ago. In ONE WEEKEND! Of course, she did it in $4000 and $2000 chunks, so she's gonna be taxed on it, but hey, I wouldn't complain. Not too much anyway.


Friday, July 15, 2005

Ad Nauseum

Remember back in the 80's (or was it the 70's?) the commercial where the guy said, "Time to make the donuts"? He always looked so bummed and burned out.

That's how I feel right now. About fixing meals in general.

These children eat like 12 times a day!! I'll be glad when the lunch ladies and their teachers get to feed them for two meals and a snack a day. Then I'm only responsible for throwing a jar of Peter Pan and a sleeve of Ritz crackers at them when they get off the bus and then serving up something yummy and nutritious at dinnertime.

Of course, when school starts I'll still be fixing food for three here at home. So really, I'm not getting out of anything, am I?


Time to make the donuts.

A day in the life

Trip to Tulsa went off without a hitch. It always does. Things are always good when we're there. It's two weeks after a visit that things fall to shit and things break. But the dentist told me my kids were cute, so I was happy.

I wore the t-shirt I got at the last 8-man football game. The front has the Quapaw Casino logo on it (they sponsored) and then under that it says "Oklahoma/Nebraska 8 Man All-Star Game".

Dr. K looked at it and said, "What were they playing at the casino?"
I said, "No, the casino sponsored it."
He said, "What? 8-man poker?"
I laughed. He was serious.
I said, "No, 8-man ball."
"Ball? Ball at a casino?"
It was starting to sound like an Abbott and Costello routine.
"Dr. K, Quapaw Casino sponsored an 8-man football game in Miami at a football field, not at a casino."
"Ah. Got it now."

And I trust this man with my childrens' dental and orthodontic needs. God love 'im.


Last night was Open Mat night at the dojo again. Sam fought against some higher ranking belts - of course, he's the lowest ranked one there, so obviously he fought a higher rank. ANYway...he did smashingly. He scored about 4 points in each of the two matches he was in and got lots of encouragement from everyone. The highlight of the night was when he got to spar with Sensei. (Oh what I'd give to spar with Sensei....*pant pant*) He was one happy kid. Mr. Diva even made an appearance, which tickled Sam and I both. Mr. Diva has the tendency to be tired after working 9 and 10 hours a day in a 110 degree garage, so when he makes an appearance anywhere other than in his recliner in the evening, we are ecstatic.

My mother, who is an angel straight from the lofty heights of heaven, gave me $60 to put toward Sam's pads. Yesterday was payday. We paid for pads and his new gi last night. He should have them by Tuesday's class. I will definitely take pictures.


I left the girls at Mom's/Sis' while we were at karate. An hour and a half is too long to listen to them whine, keep them from getting hit with a stray kick and keep them from fighting. When karate was over I picked up my girls and Tater's Tots. The kids were ecstatic. School starts soon and I intend on having as many "flumber" parties as I can fit in before then. Plus I bought a bunch of craft stuff the other day and am dying to see what they concoct from it all.

They have played "school" nearly all morning. I'm thinking I should steer my eldest child in a direction other than education or childcare. They were singing the ABC song awhile ago and when they were done she put her hands on her hips and said, "NOW...*heavy sigh*....THIS time, let's not sing it stupid like a bunch of morons." I'm thinking she needs to be an accountant or a surgeon - something where she doesn't have to deal with a lot of people to people interaction type stuff.

During "naptime" at the "school", she made them all lie down on their blankets. It got really quiet and I was thinking that she'd really figured out how to make them mind (and was hoping she'd give me pointers) when quietly I heard the boys giggling. I listened to see what she'd say. She ignored them. They giggled louder. Then I heard TotTwo stage-whisper, "Something smells like BUTT in here!" She sent him to the office. I am the "Principal". I high-fived him when she wasn't looking.

(Courtney you are going to have so much fun with that youngest Tot this year.)


PhotoBlog to follow this afternoon. Wanna see some pussies?

The cats. The cats and new kittens, you pervs.

We....the people

Originally published in The Miami News-Record, July 2020 Everything is different now. I’m not just talking about masks and social distancing...