Who Lives in a Pineapple Under the Sea?

Well, SpongeBob is the aquatic fruit-dweller, duh, but this post isn't about SpongeBob.

It's about Sea Monkeys. Yes, I said Sea Monkeys.

When I was a kid they were all the rage and for whatever reason Mom said no. She let us get those magic crystals you could grow in a fish bowl - which were cool and all - but they were no Sea Monkeys.

Last Thursday night Pops took my husband, my son, nephew and me to see Clash of the Titans and while we were at the show Mom took my daughters and niece to Walmart to let them get a treat.  My youngest child got Sea Monkeys. My mother bought my child Sea Monkeys! My mother is the quintessential grandparent, giving the grandchildren all the things she deemed too messy, expensive or labor-intensive when she herself was a parent. And ice cream whenever they want. Like before dinner.

Like I have time to raise a bunch of dang mutant brine shrimp. I have Facebook and Twitter and blogs to keep up with, people! There is no room on my plate for shrimp. Well, only if there's cocktail sauce....

But I allowed the Sea Monkeys to come home because really, Kady was as excited about her new critters as Ellie Mae Clampett would be about a new raccoon, so I thought I would take you on an adventure under the sea with us. Okay, an adventure in a 12-ounce plastic container.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First off, here is Kady looking.....well, I can't decide if it's manically happy or just plain creepy. And in serious need of a brush.

Here's the setup: a flimsy plastic container, an itty bitty scoop, three packets and a magnifying glass.

(Anyone think those packets look familiar? Like maybe if you've played the Sea Monkeys slot machine?)

And here is Hanna Montana overseeing the pouring of the water which needs to be purified because it's rural water and sometimes I think it needs to be purified for our consumption.

(Does anyone else pay attention to what's in the background of people's pictures? Like the gigantic GALLON O'PICKLES on my kitchen counter? And a two-can package of Febreze? And my outrageously large bag of Dunkin' Donuts coffee? You don't get that atmosphere with the Pioneer Woman's pics, do ya?)

Ooh, water purifier. How convenient. I was just mentioning the need for purifier. Wonder if I can get that in a 55 gallon drum?

And here's the water all sittin' in there a purifyin' and whatnot. Now we wait for Day Two.....

....drums fingers on keyboard....

Ooh look! Day Two!

And again we see our favorite wackadoo Kady super excited about the laying of eggs.

*bawk bawk*

The eggs. I'm just so glad they came in a packet like this and not in about 50 itty bitty styrofoam cartons.

Into the soup!

(Look! The Easter Bunny brought cookie mix! Because apparently he was too lazy to bake them himself. What else is laying around... an albuterol inhaler and Avon Magix! Have y'all ever tried that stuff? It is magic! Thus the name I guess. Oh look! A recipe for pea salad. I should really tidy up more before I do a Sea Monkey photo shoot.)

And here are our new pets in a sunny window awaiting the call from the Mother Ship so they can awake from suspended animation and take over the universe MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh sorry....my imagination got the best of me there for a minute.

And now we wait.

...To Be Continued...

Where I Come From

This week's Monday MckLinky question is:

Where do you come from?

I grew up in the country between the little podunk town of Wyandotte where I went to school and the big booming metropolis of Miami. At 18 I moved to Miami. When I married my husband I moved to Wyandotte with him. Then we moved to Miami. Now we're out in the country between Miami and the itty bitty town where our kids go to school.

So uhm.....where do I come from? (Or maybe you'd like to know where I'm going via where I've been.)

My Facebook profile lists Wyandotte as my hometown, but I don't necessarily feel like that was my hometown since I didn't grown up in a town. Sure, I went to school there from Kindergarten until I graduated, but is it my hometown? It's definitely my school. In Wyandotte they say, "Once a Bear, always a Bear," but in Miami they say, "Once a Wardog, always a Wardog." I guess pretty much any town boasts a lifelong committment to their mascot. My kids will always be Owls, I guess. And when they are adults they will probably feel an overwhelming urge to don red and white every Friday just like I still want to wear black and white.

If I had to commit right this very minute to where I consider myself "from" I guess I would have to say: the tiny little Ottawa community out east of Miami.

Mom and my father built our house there when Mom was pregnant with Tater and we moved in a mere week before she was born. I met my best friend, DeLisa, when Mom called her mom and invited her to my 5th birthday party. She lived less than a mile from me. Sis' best friend, Amy Jo, lived just past DeLisa. The four of us grew up together and when we got old enough, kept that road hot. We rode bikes between the three houses usually, but sometimes we walked, we ran or hitched a ride with a neighbor or one of DeLisa or Amy's brothers. Summers were spent down in the river bottom swinging on grapevine and picking flowers. When the weather got Okla-hot we were at each other's houses in the air conditioning, playing Barbies and eventually playing Nintendo, watching MTV or calling boys. We knew everyone that lived on our road and several roads branching further out. We were never scared. We didn't have cell phones to stay in constant touch with our parents, we just showed up at someone's house to eat around noon. Sleepovers were spontaneous and sometimes involved sleeping outside on the trampoline.

We lived on 1 1/4 acres, a corner lot on the site of the old Spring River schoolhouse. The property still had the concrete foundation of the school house, the well house, both stone outhouses and the coal shed when we moved there. The girls outhouse eventually was turned into a clubhouse by Tater and her best friend (it was so old there was no uhm....evidence it had ever been an outhouse). The coal shed was where we stored our bikes, the dog had puppies and sixty bazillion wasps lived. The concrete foundation served as a stage, a great place to ride your bike off and do stunts, was marked with the black scars from "snakes" on the 4th of July and eventually became a raised garden for tomatoes and geraniums. My prom pictures were taken in the well house. A few years back the new owners bulldozed the outbuildings and the schoolhouse's foundation. I cried.


When someone in the community passed away, one of the neighbors, usually my mother, went house to house taking up donations to buy flowers for the bereaved; the card always read "the people of the Ottawa community". Casserole dishes were passed around liberally, always full, either on the coming or the going.

We had a party line.

We planted a garden.

We shot off fireworks on the 4th.

During the Iran hostage crisis there was a big yellow ribbon around the tree in the front yard.

Our yard saw many a wiffle ball game, croquet game and Easter egg hunt.

We had a go cart.

We had a pool.

We had an aerial antenna and that only afforded us three channels - until we got a gigantic satellite dish with a hand crank planted in the back yard.

We never had pizza delivered to our house.

We lived in a close-knit community. Most of the mommas stayed at home and if the daddies weren't farmers they worked at BFGoodrich in Miami. We helped each other out, we supported each other, everyone kept an eye on each other's kids, we played pranks, made casseroles and lived life the best way we knew how.

I've said it before,but it's true: where I come from has made me who I am today.

Where do you come from?

Join in the discussion over at the RHOK!

Write a post on your own blog then enter the link in our handy dandy MckLinky.

It's simple and shares your blog with people that maybe haven't read it before!

Say Anything

Awhile back I was contacted by Dee at Say Anything who told me she had gotten my name from a reader who thought I needed to be interviewed by her. Well, my thinking is anyone who is interested in me should, by all means, learn more!

Now, here's where I dropped the ball - I forgot today was the day. What with all the Real Housewives of Oklahoma excitement it kind of got lost in the shuffle. She even reminded me the other day and still I forgot. I have way too many dates floating around in this big ol' cavernous head of mine.

Here's the interview, so go learn something about me that maybe you didn't know. Highly unlikely, I know. I pretty much share it all. But there's a chance I reveal something so go check it out!

So my sincerest apologies to Dee because I know she works hard to put together her interviews and keep up her blog. She's a hoot and she's bubbly and really seems to love hosting other bloggers there in her little corner of the web. Show her some love, wouldya?

What is a Housewife?

What is a housewife? Have you ever asked yourself a question like this?

If you ask, "What is a doctor?" or "What is a fire fighter?" To those questions one might answer, "A person who takes care of sick people, prescribes medicine, gives advice and direction" and "A person who puts their life in danger to save people in dangerous situations, puts out fires and stands in intersections around Labor Day holding a boot."

So really, what is a housewife?

Dictionary.com defines a housewife as, "A married woman who manages her own household, esp. as her principal occupation." It also lists it as "archaic" and "offensive to some" and suggests homemaker as a substitute.

Seriously? Offensive?

I'm a wife, I pretty much don't leave me house. The word housewife isn't offensive to me, but I'm kind of old-fashioned that way. But what I do is so much  more than merely "manage my household." 

What I'm doing now is my dream job. Before we had kids I worked as a Pharmacy Technician in a hospital pharmacy. I was a cocktail waitress in my pre-kid days as well. I worked as a daycare teacher and I've been a secretary/receptionist, too. In recent history I worked in Child Welfare at DHS. All of those are rewarding jobs and I liked most of them, but doing what I'm doing now is what I'm supposed to do. My family likes me being here and I like being here. It works for us. We do without a lot, we've had our times where there wasn't enough money to pay the bills and there were even times I felt the walls closing in for lack of conversation that didn't center around Elmo, boogers or poop, but this is my job and it's the one I've stuck with longest.

Wanna know a secret? Hugs from kids that smell faintly of outside, puppy and dirt, spontaneous, rare smiles from a usually-sulking teenager, having someone tell you your kids are great, being available to pick up sick kids from school without having to worry what my boss thinks, hearing "Momma! Guess what?" and wearing sweats to work are what keep me coming back day after day.

Now, while I speak glowingly of my job, there are many, many requirements and downsides, too. However, all the kid puke, shower scrubbing and hearing the comment, "Oh, you're just a housewife," is worth it to be doing something I love and to be able to wear sweats to work. HUGE job perk, those elastic waistbands.

Now, before you trade in your retirement to become one of the ranks you might want to research this position a little more. Here are the specs on this particular housewife:

Cook/Chef/Baker - Daily, many times. Green things are limited to green beans and only four of us eat those. There's lots of spaghetti, macaroni and cheese, cupcakes and animal crackers on the menu around here. Casseroles and I have a deep, meaningful relationship. I can hide vegetables in anything.
Dust-er - If by dusting you mean being able to write my name in all horizontal surfaces, then yeah, I do that.
Vacuum-er  - I actually have an eight year old that loves this task. Score.
Sweep-er - I have a 13 year old for this. She hates it, but she hates to hear me harp at her even more.
Mopper (rarely) - Mopping is stupid. The floor just gets dirty again. Duh.
Cobweb Removal Specialst (rarely) - This happens usually once a year, right before the family gets here for Festivus.
Silly Putty on the Bedspread Removal Specialist - Only once, thank God. Silly Putty has since been outlawed in this house.
Turner offer of the weather radio - Because someone *cough cough the man I married cough* thinks storms are awesome to sleep through.
Setter of alarms/Waker upper of children - Because I am the only person in the house that responds to an alarm. Hope I'm here if the house catches fire.
Loader of the Dishwasher - I'm the only one that can do it right. Some of you know exactly what I'm talking about.
Shopper of the Groceries - Because if my husband did it we would live on microwave burritos and frozen pizzas and would have a closet full of really, really awful toilet paper and the tissues without lotion.
Organizer of the Calendar - Mine is color-coded and everything. A gigantic desk calendar mounted to the dining room wall - best thing I ever bought myself. I can manage three kids' schedules, two of whom played basketball in different towns on the same day at four different times while keeping track of school pictures, field trips and church dinners. My husband was once found in the fetal position after I asked him to check the calendar during basketball season. It ain't for sissies.
The Getter Upper in the Night with Puking Children - Those alarms he "doesn't hear"? Yeah, he "doesn't hear" sick children either. Convenient, huh?
Checker of/Helper with Homework - However, my expertise ends when the children get into Middle School Math. Then they are their father's responsiblity.
Payer of the Bills - He knows where the bank is located and that they will give you suckers if you just say there are kids in the car. That's pretty  much it.
Sewer on of Buttons/Hot Glue-er of Broken Things - Those are pretty much the extent of my sewing skills, but I do own a sewing machine and someday hope to use it.
Creator of Valentine Boxes/Halloween Costumes/Career Day Ensembles - I have made a two foot tall 3-D SpongeBob, two robots and a TV out of styrofoam cooler (complete with antenna AND power cord) for Valentine boxes. I found a shopping cart so my daughter could be a bag lady for Halloween. I came *this close* to showing cleavage for Krispy Kreme paraphenalia for my son's Career Day until he changed his mind and went with actor, which pretty much required him to just use his hands a lot and look morose.
Worrier Over Fevers/Rashes/Tummy Aches/Dental Visits/Calls from the Principal - I excel at this particular one.
Receiver of Dandelion Boquets/Pictures Drawn with Your Own Sharpies Which Bleed Through Onto the Dining Room Table/Enough Refrigerator Art to Open Your Own Museum/Coupon Books at Christmastime Good for Clean Rooms That Never Happen and Free Hugs - Better than a 401k any day.

So tell us, what is a housewife?

Give your answer on your blog then link to our MckLinky so we can see what you have to say!

** Monday MckLinky is something the Real Housewives of Oklahoma will do well, every Monday, so make sure you visit the Real Housewives site every Monday morning so you can play along! (Yes, today is Wednesday. Go with it, okay? It's launch day and we're all aflutter.) All the cool housewives do Monday MckLinky, ya know. And you know you wanna be cool.

It's here, it's live and it RHOKs

If you follow my Twitter feed or are my friend on Facebook you've seen the hashtag #RHOK and heard me talking of this super secret insanely crazy announcement "coming soon".

Well, soon is now my friends because today The Real Housewives of Oklahoma site is up and running and ready for you to fall madly in love with it and ask it on dates and want to take your kids there on vacation. We'll be bigger than the biggest ball of twine in Arizona!

We're just a group of Okie housewives who want to give other Okie housewives - and housewives everywhere - a voice. We are a insane special breed of woman and whether you have kids or not, staying home and taking care of your household is a job. A big one. An important one. A rewarding one. A tough one. And let's face it, a cool one.

Bookmark us, visit often and keep up with all the happenings.  Every Monday we'll host a "Monday MckLinky" where we ask a question and you get to answer on your blog and then tell all kinds of people about it. We'll be RHOK'ing out, attending some events and local sites and attractions, donating our time to some worthy causes, vlogging, blogging and clogging. (Okay, I made up the clogging. As far as I know, I'm the only one in the group that even knows how to clog and I don't intend on performing for y'all.) Follow us on Twitter, too! (@theRHOK)

It's been a crazy week, more than one of us has had a tension headache or two, some of us  have had to peel our contacts off our eyeballs by day's end (not me because, ya know, I'm the old lady in the bi-focals), but we're live and large and in charge.

And we RHOK.

Squinty

My first glasses were plastic framed and in hindsight perilously close to the horn-rims of the 50's. They were pinkish and just horrible. Hey, what did I know about fashion? I was 11. I thought twist-beads were the end-all-be-all. At the time I was also rather plump, shopping for all my clothes in the "Pretty Plus" section at Sears. I was the quintessential nerd, lemme tell ya.

Having been in glasses for the past 26 years I have seen my fair share of lenses and frames. I've had the horn-rims, the GIGANTO round frames (think Sally Jessy Raphael), I've had square, I've had oval, I've had plastic, metal, full-frame, half-frame and for the past few years the expensive ones with the magnetic sunglass clip so I don't have to resort to wearing those flip-up sunglasses the oldsters buy at Walmart. Hey, I need my sunglasses because I so rarely leave the house and go out into the sun, well, my eyes don't like sunlight. It burns. And it's so....so....bright.

Since I don't have insurance, I pay cash for my glasses. This is why I only get glasses every two to three years and only if I'm having issues. Like debilitating headaches. Or blindness.

I am horribly near-sighted and teetered on the edge of legally blind for years, but starting about five years ago my eyes have actually gotten a little better. The eye doctor I've seen since my tween years said I was a candidate for Lasix. I said, "Only if I find an extra $3000 someone dropped in a parking lot. Or if some long-lost aunt kicks the bucket and decided I was her favorite because she read my blog and decided I'm just that awesome. Now show me the frames, please." I have tried contacts and I am just one of "those" people who can't wear them. I am destined to a life of glasses and really, I'm okay with that. I've worn them longer than I didn't by far and I think I look funny without them on now. They complete me. I am one with the glasses.

About six months ago Kady asked me to untangle a knot in a necklace chain. I started the process of untangling when I realized I couldn't see, so I squinted. It didn't help. I opened my eyes wide. Didn't help. I looked over the top of my glasses and voila! It also became starkly clear that I was mimicking the exact routine I had seen my father do back when I was a kid and needed something untangled. I mentioned it laughingly to Mom one day and she said, "I bet you're going to need bi-focals soon, dear." I glared at her and told her that she was delirious and I was only 36 and that just wasn't going to happen. She gently reminded me that my father was in bi-focals at 16. Great.

And really, aside from an occasional moment where I had to look over the tops of my glasses I've done fine since then. I didn't do any counted cross-stitch this winter and really didn't read much either. I have yet to use that sewing machine out there collecting an impressive amount of dust. I've done my Facebooking and blogging with very little problem and can see great when driving at night and can see distances without a problem. I drove to Yukon over Spring Break - three hours of solid nighttime driving without so much as the twinge of a headache.

The Sunday of the freak Spring Break snow storm I downloaded the book The Lovely Bones to my iPod and started reading it. The print was no smaller than in a book, so I knew I wasn't straining to read something uber small, but an hour into reading it I was suddenly smacked by one of the worst headaches I've had in a long time. So bad I was nauseous and had to lie in the dark with a washcloth over my eyes for a few hours until it subsided. I get about two to three migraines a year, but this one didn't feel like a typical migraine even though it went away after doing my usual migraine relief techniques. Since that fateful headache I've been having more and more, especially after a day on the computer or reading. I can only read in about 15 minute increments and most of the time I take my glasses off to do it.

Paul's been complaining for months that he hates his glasses, he can't see at night and the computer screen he sits in front of for eight hours a day at work just gives him fits. I heaved a heavy sigh and said, "That's it. I'm making us both eye appointments."

Paul went first. The man is 47 and one of those folks who didn't get glasses until about age 35. It's a natural progression of age. So of course, his prescription needs to be strengthened, in his lens and the bi-focal, too. The eye doctor, a guy who played baseball with my high school boyfriend and is partnered up with the optometrist of my youth, suggested a new type of bi-focal for people who work on computers and heavily recommended an anti-glare coating. Paul has great vision insurance so I just nodded to everything the doctor suggested. Then it was my turn. I told him he problems I was having. He asked if it was always hard to see when I read or just sometimes. He nodded and hmmh'd as he asked me more questions - driving, computer work, etc. He said, "Here's what I think. We've got one of two scenarios going on. Either your prescription has changed again or....you are going to go into bi-focals early." I told him to bite his tongue and gave him a very nasty look. He examined my eyes and for the distance stuff I did great. But man, when he put that itty bitty text right up in front of my face and spotlighted it, it was a booger to read. Then he did his magic little "Better 1 or 2.....3 or 4....4 or 5...." schpiel and suddenly I could read that teeny tiny little blurb about the grass on the hillside exploding into green or something like that.

He took the equipment away from my face, put his hands on his knees and said, "Well, dear, here's the thing: Your distance vision hasn't changed a bit. Your prescription doesn't need to be adjusted in the least....." and then he took a deep breath and said, "....but you need bi-focals."

I would've immediately burst into tears had it not been for the fact that my tearful explosion was pre-empted by my husband's exuberant guffaw. He was laughing at me! Laughing at my optical misfortune! For better or worse obviously didn't cover "In single vision or bi-focals".  Then he told the eye doctor WHO IS ONLY A YEAR OLDER THAN ME BY THE WAY that I had been making fun of him for two years since he got bi-focals. LIAR! My husband LIED to our optometrist! I don't know what came over that man. It's not enough that I am ten years his junior and have WAY more gray hair than he does, but now I'm in bi-focals as well. And as if the laughing at my unfortunate optical development wasn't enough he then TOLD the doctor I had more gray hair than him. Then? THEN? He told the OTHER eye doctor the same thing! Oh, he was having a grand ol' time, lemme tell ya.

Dr. Walls was very nice about it really and while yes, he did chuckle at my husband's obvious mirth, he sweetly said, "We'll make sure you get a no-line and then no one but you, me and your husband have to know, okay?" And to that Paul laughed again and said, "Are you kidding? As soon as you walk out of this exam room she's going to put it on Twitter and Facebook! She can't keep a secret! Even one like this!"

And he was right. Even though my eyes were dilated and I couldn't see worth a whit I managed to tweet and Facebook update right then and there. I also sent a text to my mother and sister, knowing they would have words of comfort and wisdom for me because, after all, they are my two best friend. Sister immediately sent a text that said, "Make sure you ask for the package deal - the one where they throw in the walker with the tennis balls on the feet." I text her back immediately as well, but I won't write here what I called her. I'll let you use your imagination.

I picked out some cute purplish, mauve-ish frames which, of course, have the sunglasses clip. My husband and I got the same exact lenses, the Definity and anti-glare lenses. His, with his insurance, cost $280. Mine without insurance cost SIX HUNDRED FIFTEEN DOLLARS. It's fun going directly from the eye doctor to the bank to withdraw from your savings just so you can see. I considered taking out another $100 because a trip to the salon to cover all the gray taking over my head felt in order at that point, but I resisted. 

Paul's boss sent me a text later in the day suggesting I look into AARP's vision discount plan. I told her to shut her mouth or I would beat her with my cane.

Whippersnapper.

Where YOU Been?

In case y'all aren't already regular followers of my other gig at WelchOK.com, for starters you should be. Shame on you. Tsk tsk.

(Also you're missing out on some good quality, local, hometown, homegrown news there as well, aside from the fact that I write there, too, so go visit, have a look around and bookmark it.)

I try to post to the column once a week, but sometimes that doesn't happen. Okay, lately that really hasn't happened at all, but I'm going to do better. Really.

Anyway, here's the link to my latest Diva Dish, "Just Chock Full of Grace". And make sure to leave a comment!

THE EIGHTIES, PEOPLE!

I have no reason for this blog post other than we just got VH1 Classic yesterday and I am sitting my stay-at-home mom hiney on the couch today during naptime, reliving my youth with Totally 80's.

Okay, I'm doing this Stream-of-Consciousness style so hang onto your skinny ties and day-glo mis-matched earrings. Here we go......



Tiffany: "I Think We're Alone Now" -- Okay, first off let me say I owned the cassette. I already had a major girl-crush on Molly Ringwald so it was only natural that Tiffany would capture my heart as well. I wanted red hair so badly back then.

Why does she look so bored? Does she not know she is the Princess of the Malls? Does she not know she is dancing with a dude on the beach who has perfectly symmetically squared hair? Does she not know that she should soak up the glory and sassiness now because in about 20 years Miley Cyrus is going to make her look like a virgin at a 50's sock hop?  Seriously, my mom was so offended by her gyrations back then, but Miley Cyrus' pole dancing on stage makes this look like nothin'.

The final shots of Tiffany on the luggage carousel make me want my high-top Reeboks back. Dude, they had VELCRO at the top.

___________________

Phil Collins: "Sussudio" -- HA! He's wearing a skinny tie. An ORANGE skinny tie. Well, more of a peachy, yellow-y, mystery sherbet tie.

Sussudio. Seriously. What up with that name? That was one name that just never took off. Bazillions of parents didn't find out they were having a girl and decide to name her Sussudio after this song. They named their daughters Tiffany.

"Now she don't even know my name..." Dude, you are a stalker. However, you are adorable. I will give you that, Phil.

I can't stop saying Sussudio. With a lisp.

Any video with guys in white suits playing trumpets is okay by  me. It has the Redneck Diva Seal of Approval.

__________________________

Night Ranger: "Sister Christian" -- SQUEEEEEE! This song is on my iPod! Brian Highfill used to call me that!!! I didn't realize it meant I was a prude and a "good girl" and that I needed to quit being quite so uptight. I was just stoked someone called me the name of a song. He didn't say it mean. He always said it with a smile.

Okay, some of these hairstyles I am seeing like now. The hair on the girls. Not the band's hair. That style will hopefully remain forever in the 80's. Big hair band hair should stay with the band. In the 80's. Farrrrrr away in the 80's.

OOh red pants. I bet they're leather. Oh Mr. Keyboard Guy in the red probably-leather pants, would you like to borrow some baby powder? I bet you're chafed.

Were those bras they threw off the back of the convertible as they drove off? I remember when I could do that.....

_________________________

Richard Marx: "Hold Onto the Night" -- You know it's gonna be good when it starts out with black and white still shots from concerts. 

Wasn't this the theme to my Senior Prom?

Mullet.

Curly, brushed-out mullet.

Oh, Richard. *shakes head*

I miss jean jackets.

I wonder how many cans of Aqua Net gave their lives so that Richard's hair would move in one solid mullet-y mass during this video....

Why did we stop rolling our t-shirt sleeves a couple of times? That was cool. Wicked cool.

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Van Halen: "JUMP" -- My kids only know the Glee version. I am SO recording this for them. They must know of the Roth. They simply must. Abby will gag at his latex pants. Guaranteed.

Guyliner. David Lee Roth may have been the first to usher this is so successfully. I know of no other who wears the guyliner like he did.

I love me some banana-colored tiger-print, Eddie. Really.

The drummer always looks like a two-year old throwing a tantrum. It wasn't head-banging for him - it was entire body banging. Kind of awkward. Don't purse your lips like that, sweetie. I don't want to kiss you any more when you do that.

I never understand why he wiped the mic stand across his butt like that. Did he have an itch? I bet Mr. Red Leather Keyboard Guy from Night Ranger would let him borrow his baby powder.

__________________________-

ZZ Top: "Sharp Dressed Man" -- Every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man.

I can't say anything about this video other than AWESOME. I always completely dug ZZ Top's videos. I like the stories.

Okay, I can say one thing. The chicks in their videos always bounced and bobbed so lasciviously. No one else could've pulled it off in any other band's videos, ladies. Just know that. You bob like that in a Journey video and you are a slut. You do it in a ZZ Top video and you are hawt.

"Legs" was my favorite. Just sayin'.

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Poison: "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" -- Oh naked man lying there with your arm across your forehead....what hav eyou done to the curly-headed woman in the tank top next to you? She looks forlorn and possibly angry.

Poison always looked dirty to me. As in unbathed dirty.

How did the hair bands of the 80's and 90's see through that hair in front of their eyes? They remind me of that sheep dog in the old Looney Toons cartoons. The girls today have at least one eye peeking from behind their uber-straightened bangs. How did y'all DO it?? Was it like bat radar?

"Now I hear ya found somebody new and that I never meant that much to you. To hear that tears me up inside and to see you cuts me like a knife."  Oh gah, those lyrics right there bring back memories of my first big breakup. Wow. Ouch.

______________________

Cameo: "Word Up" -- Can't hear this song without thinking of Steve Carell in The 40-year old Virgin. Just can't.

Oh sweetie, the hard plastic cup goes under your jeans. Not over. Bless your heart. I'll look away while you fix that.

W-O-R-D UP!

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Huey Lewis and the News: "The Heart of Rock and Roll" -- Okay, yum. Huey Lewis gets me ... right.... here.

I miss the days of buttoning your shirt all the way up. I used to wear a pin right over that top button. One was dangly. I was cool.

I remember getting so excited when he'd shout out Tulsa. I'm not even from Tulsa, but HUEY LEWIS MENTIONED OKLAHOMA. Okay, so he also mentioned Texas, Michigan, Ohio and others, but still....

The lit-up heart under his shirt at the end is like, super corny. But he's cute so we'll let it go.
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Beastie Boys: "(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (to Party)" -- Lurve me some Beastie Boys. So does my 13 year old. She is cool.

"Do you like parties?"

"I hope no bad people show up."

HAHAHHAHAHAHHA Nope. None of those will show up. Really.

Why did my parents not stop me from listening to these guys? Oh wait, probably for the same reason I don't stop my teenager from listening to it. Because they're cool.

I never understood the whole pie in the face thing in this video. It seems kinda random.

That one guy looks like he's 12.

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Rush: "Limelight" -- Why do I not remember Rush? Oh maybe because I was too busy trying to be like Debbie Gibson and Tiffany.

Fast-forwarding. ....

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Modern English: "I Melt With You" -- I am completely supressing the urge to get up and dance right now.

I miss the sunglasses and hats of the 80's.

The lead singer reminds me of Danny Evans.

Why does the world have to stop for melting to occur? I've been known to melt while the world rushes right along around me. Just sayin'.

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Tony Basil: "Mickey" -- Cheerleading sure has changed a lot since then. There's much more gyration now. And my parents thought there was a lot of gyration back then.

I like her dog ears. What is she like 40 in this video?

I used to have some pom poms on my shoes, too. Okay, no I didn't. But I wanted some.

The poms the cheerleaders use now are about 1/100th the size of the ones in this video. I wonder why they shrunk 'em..... I liked the big ones. Not that I was ever a cheerleader or anything. But when I gazed longingly at the cheerleaders' pom poms I liked 'em.

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Kiss: "Heaven's on Fire" -- Oh goodness, I think this song is dirty. Not the unbathed kind of dirty I mentioned in the Poison video. I mean, like, really really dirty. That  kind of dirty. Yeah.

Oh my. NO WONDER my parents didn't like Kiss!

I think I'm blushing.

Don't tell me to feel your heart, young man! I'll grab you by the ear and drag you right on outta here! Horny little whippersnapper.

Wait. Aren't the guys from Kiss older than me?

Oy.

Spring Break in the Yukon

I have become a bit of a homebody in the last few years and my desire to go places (other than Disney World) is gone. I like my house, I like my 40 acres, I like my routine. But....I also miss my sister like mad, so I threw my wanna-be-agorophobia aside and we planned a trip. Since Paul now works week days he wasn't going to be able to go and that was another issue for me entirely - being away from him. I kinda like him, too.

I spent all day Tuesday fretting and fussing and packing and fussing and cleaning and fretting. I did so much fretting that I forgot to eat. Like all day. I used to say you had to be a special kind of stupid to forget to eat and apparently Tuesday I was that special kind of stupid. By the time Mom got here at 6:15 I was nearly fit to be tied, on the verge of tears from the overwhelming thought of being away from home and Paul for three. whole. days. THREE!

When we were loaded and ready I hugged him way longer than he was comfortable with - okay, let me rephrase, it was probably my bawling on his shoulder that he was the most uncomfortable with. He didn't mind the hugging so much. He said so. And then we took off. We got about seven miles from home when I remembered I hadn't put gas in the van, so we detoured at Buffalo Ranch to fill up. Mom told me to go buy some chicken strips or something to eat, otherwise I'd be sick before we got to Yukon. I bought some popcorn chicken which was apparently made from Mexican chickens because they were HOT! I do not like hot, spicy food. I like having feeling in my tongue and spicy food makes my face hurt. Seriously. I popped one in my mouth and took off. By the time we made it to the turnpike entrance and my face was on fire. So much for eating.

The kids were angels. I always said I'd never allow my kids to watch DVDs in the car. Highway Bingo, ISpy, 20 Questions and poking each other to the point of making my father's ears steam was good enough for Sis and I and I said it was good enough for my kids. Yeah. Apparently I am a weenie because each of my kids has their own DVD player now and I have a seemingly eternal supply of ear phones and ear buds in case they lose theirs. Mom and I chatted and listened to the soundtrack to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and I occasionally complained that that dang popcorn chicken gave me tongue cancer. When we saw the sign for the Stroud McDonald's in the middle of the highway Mom said she needed coffee. Abby said she needed ice cream. (Abby always needs ice cream, by the way. Not wants, needs. She seriously believes this.) And even though no one said they needed a bathroom stop I made everyone try. The girls and I headed to the restroom while Sam and Mom stood in line to order me a burger to test whether my tongue still had the ability to taste. As we were leaving the restroom a woman came in. We did that little shuck and jive where I go right and she steps in front of me so I step the other way and so does she. It's always uncomfortable, isn't it? Especially in a restroom. Igh. When she and I finally finished our awkward dance we managed to get to the door and she headed on in the restroom. As we were passing her she loudly exclaimed, "OOH! It smells like COOKIES!"

Uh.....wha....?

Abby, Kady and I made it about four paces out of the bathroom before we all three busted out into  hysterical laughter. When we could all breathe again Abby said, "And lady, you are obviously on CRACK!" which sent us all into gales of laughter again. I have no idea why that poor woman thought the restroom smelled like cookies. Unless maybe she, too, had eaten some spicy popcorn chicken and it messed up her olfactory abilities worse than mine.

We joined Mom and Sam in line just as they were about to order and were informed they had no ice cream. THE STROUD MCDONALD'S HAD NO ICE CREAM. Abby nearly fainted. Sam settled for fries, Kady, who had a wicked sore throat and was crying, settled for a burger and Mom got her coffee. Abby just pouted. And y'all will also be glad to know that my burger tasted fine and apparently my taste buds were unharmed by the pollo caliente.

We called Sis to let her know we were about an hour away, got back on the turnpike and by then all three kids had finished a movie and were restless/excited/bored. Abby whined she was bored. Kady cried her throat hurt and she exclaimed she was sure she was going to die. Sam farted. See why they need DVD players? After all the declarations of boredom and flatulence Mom happily suggested we all sing. Abby groaned and said, "Ohhhhhh great" which prompted Mom to begin "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" and I joined in a round. This FREAKED my kids out. How have they lived 8, 11 and 13 years and have never heard a song sung in a round??? Abby said it was sensory overload. Kady said it ruined the song. Sam giggled and farted again.

We got to Sis' apartment a hair after 10 and after lugging our van load of luggage up three flights of stairs we  hugged and all that. We let the kids stay up til nearly 2am because all five of them were together and so were we grownup girls.

The next morning we got around, met Sis for lunch and then did some shopping on Garth Brooks Boulevard. My mom is absolutely fascinated with Garth Brooks Boulevard. Maybe because it's named after GB himself, maybe because it's just a mouthful to say or maybe because it has a Big Lots AND a Hancock Fabric AND a Tuesday Morning. We bought the girls some Pixos and Sam a "spy kit" at Tuesday Morning, scored major patterns at Hancock (NINETY NINE CENTS MCCALLS PATTERNS, PEOPLE) and well, Big Lots was a disappointment, but the boys got X-Men bobbleheads and did I mention NINETY NINE CENT MCCALLS PATTERNS AT HANCOCK? By the time we left Big Lots Kady was bawling her throat hurt REALLY REALLY BAD and her ear was going to explode and her head was going to cave in and she just wanted to go to bed.

Let me just say here that I really thought she was just having allergy issues. And even after she started talking like she had a wad of bubblegum in her throat I still just thought it was allergy/drainage irritation, maybe some tonsilitis. Also let me just say that I am so going to win Mother of the Year this year.

We stopped at Walmart to get ear drops, decongestant, Motrin, Cepacol Fizzlers (which don't work, don't waste your money) and the salad stuff for dinner and some ice cream for Abby because she said she was near death because she hadn't had any in two whole days. The kids also got treats for being so good. I dropped $68 on Harumika sets for Addison and Kady, a Twilight t-shirt for Abby, a license plate for Gentry's bike and an apothecary of pain relief for my ill child.

We had Mom's homemade chicken casserole for dinner with Sis and her boyfriend and managed to get the kids in bed by 11 since we were headed to the round barn in Arcadia, Pops' Diner and Omniplex the next morning. After the kids went to be and we all decided we were really pretty exhausted from all the running we opted out of the round barn and Pops'. We'll hit it next time. Thursday morning we all got up and snacked around for breakfast, Kady looked like hell and ended up back in bed, taking a two hour nap from 8 to 10, bless her heart. (Still was in denial at that point.) We grabbed sandwiches for lunch, picked up Sis' boyfriend then drove toward the Omniplex which I think they just call the Oklahoma Science Museum now, but I'm all old school and stuff. Traffic was at a standstill miles away, but as we got closer we saw there had been a wreck and assumed that was the holdup. Turns out that no, every child in Oklahoma and their parents were all jonesin' for some science-y fun, too. As we sat waiting through green light after green light it was about 20 minutes in that my son, who was in my sister's car, puked. He's awesome like that. My kids are classic car pukers, especially that boy of mine.

A phone call from the gagging adults, one of which who doesn't have children, God love him, and a quick conversation where we all concurred that the museum wasn't going to be any fun with all those people, we pulled out into traffic and headed to the most ghetto KFC/Taco Bell I have ever seen. I got Sam out of the backseat, assessed the pukey damage while Sis ran across the street to a CVS to buy paper towels, Lysol and disinfecting wipes. Abby kept whispering she was quite certain we were going to be mugged, raped and/or murdered. While I held my breath and cleaned Sis' backseat the other adults figured out our next stop - Celebration Station. Abby whined that if it was like Chuck E. Cheese she wasn't going to have any fun no matter what and the other kids talked excitedly about ALL THE FUN they were going to have.

As we pulled out into traffic Kady saw two birds who were uhm.....twitterpated. She sat bolt upright, face pressed against the window and yelled, "SWEET! Two birds fighting! AWESOME!" Abby said, "Yeah, well, in this neighborhood they better be careful. Someone might bus' a cap in someone's...." and my mother rescued the conversation with the word "WING!". The rest of the trip we all threatened each other with busting caps in each other's wings.

Celebration Station was fun. We, of course, came home with oodles of craptastic junk.

We had leftovers for dinner that night, watched Hairspray and after the kids were in bed and the boyfriend had gone home we grownup girls sat at the table and drank sweet tea, ate Rice Krispie Treats and visited till we were yawning.

Sis had to go to work the next morning so Mom and I got the kids up, packed up, cleaned the apartment and loaded the van up to head home. Kady was still complaining of her throat and ear hurting and since it was Friday and the weekend was on us,threatening to bust a cap in our wing, I called the PA's office, explained we were in Yukon, described her symptoms and asked what I should do. I made the statement she hadn't run a fever the whole time so I was sure it wasn't strep. The nurse then said, "Uh, Kristin. She can have strep without a fever. Sounds like strep. Let me talk to David and I'll call you right back." Five minutes later she called me back to say that yeah, more than likely she had strep and they were calling her in antibiotics back home. Oy. Imagine how awesome that made me feel. Poor baby.

We had lunch with Sis, dreaded leaving and promised we'd be back over the summer. A quick stop at Walmart so Mom could buy all the kids inordinate amounts of candy and we were on the road with two more kids than we came with. They were so dang quiet, though, we kept asking if they were all okay. I have never traveled with five better kids. Thank you, Santa, for the DVD players. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

We dropped the Tots off with their other grandparents, I picked up some laundry detergent, sugar and milk in Fairland in anticipation of Snownado 2010, then hotfooted it back here to the ranch. We pulled into the driveway to find my darling redneck husband and Pops, who was waiting with a couple bottles of Amoxil for Kady and a brand new 2010 Prius to show his bride. The kids attacked their daddy with hugs and kisses and stories. I caught my parents kissing and hugging and heard Abby say, "I think I just threw up in my  mouth a little."

All in all, it was a tremendously fun Spring Break. I nervously left the comfort of my home and couch and had no idea I'd find a different comfort at the teeny tiny dining room table in my sister's apartment talking about nothing in particular.

Adventurers ho!

We're headed off to the Yukon for a few days over Spring Break. No, not the Yukon in Canada, which is what one of Abby's friends asked. God love her. Going to go see my baby sis and the tots and do whatever it is ones does in Yukon. I think it's pretty much what we do up here except it involves much more traffic. Anyone got a few spare Xanax?

Please don't try to rob my house while I'm gone. The redneck is staying here. And so is the chewingest dog. Which means if the dog doesn't eat your shoes while you're attempting to break in he will eat the tires off your car so you can't leave which will then give that redneck man of mine time to shoot you. Just giving you fair warning.

If y'all are reading this from down south be on the lookout for the Diva van this week. It's a red Dodge Caravan with the license plate RDNKDVA. If you see us, honk and wave wildly, but don't expect us to pull over and visit if Mom is in the car. She will automatically think you are trying to murder us, rob us or steal all the strawberry Mentos in my purse.