A meme! A meme! My kingdom for a meme!

Shannon at Rocks in My Dryer did this meme today because she's got blogger's block. Been there, done that. I liked the meme, though, so I thought I'd do it, too, because I have few original thoughts these days. If you want to play along, post it on your blog and leave me a comment!

What do you like most about where you live? I love them because they're mine. I grew up in this part of the state, the county even. I feel like I split my allegiance sometimes since we live in between the big town (Miami) and the town where the kids go to school. I love the small town aspect of their school's town, but I grew up around Miami. Regardless, both towns are friendly, homey, familiar and well.....mine. I love that Miami has about the same number of Baptist churches as we do bars, I love the Indian Gaming Facilities, The (haunted) Coleman Theatre, Miami's library, the kids' school and the closeness of it, the way we come together when someone's in need and the fact that going to Wal*Mart is pretty much everyone's social life. They're mine, they're home.

Is there anything strange about where you live? Well, we are just miles from the nation's Largest Superfund Site. That's a source of pride, lemme tell ya. It's also the reason I'm not a member of MENSA. Just think how smart I'd have been had I not played on chat piles virtually my entire childhood.

What's one of your all-time favourite music albums and why? Well, I can't nail down a favorite particular album, but really, when it comes right down to it, I'm still a big Statler Brothers fan. Not as big a fan as Tater, but I'm still a fan. Go ahead, laugh, giggle and shake your head, even take me down a few notches on your Coolness Scale, but I really like them to this day! When we were kids we listened to them on 8-track in the car. We sang "specials" in church that were from their gospel albums. I can remember Mom playing their records, and later tapes, on rainy or snowy days and we were stuck in the house. As a family we sang "This Ol' House" and "The Fourth Man" because between the four of us we had Dad's bass, Mom's soprano and Tater and I sang the alto and tenor parts until I hit puberty and switched full time to alto, but I could've easily sang bass with Dad. (Yeah, I gots me a deep singin' voice - that's why I don't sing in public anymore.) Now, as an adult, when I'm in the right mood I put aside Maroon5, Jimmy Buffett and Rascal Flatts for a little walk down memory lane with the Statler Brothers.

Did you have a passion for something as a kid that you still have now? (If not - what is one of your passions now?) Okay, not really so much a passion as it is an obsession. I alphabetize everything. I did it as a kid and I do it now. From videos, books and CD's to canned goods and cleaning supplies. Not sure if that's what the question was wanting, but oh well.

What do you like most about having a blog? Truthfully? The thought that somewhere out there I've made someone laugh. People I don't know might be laughing at something I wrote! I love the comments from y'all when I've written about the booger shoe, possums in the dogfood and waist-boobs and that's what keeps me writing. And someday...someday when I publish that first book well, you can say you read it here first.




There ya go. I haven't done a meme in quite awhile - that was refreshing. Play along, won't you?

Super cool vs. super sucky

Good: Our garage sale is this weekend. I'm hoping to earn a pretty good hunk of money to take to Disney World next weekend.

Bad: I have been on my feet virtually all day long. I sat down long enough to feed JackJack a few bottles and feed Li'l Divinity at lunchtime. Other than that, it's been on my feet. And at night I dream of those little round, white stickers chasing me with a Sharpie marker so that they can price me.

Good: I've been barefoot every day this week. I love going barefoot! I'm a true country girl in that respect. Growing up I could run up and down our gravel driveway barefooted and never flinch. I have calouses 4 inches thick on my heels. (I know, paints a pretty picture, doesn't it?)

Bad: My right foot - aka last summer's "fat foot" (See pretty much all of last July's posts to relive the whining) - is freakin' huge tonight. Dang my hereditary bad veins. I have really given myself fits over not wearing my tennies every time I take a step and my foot screams "OUCH! Don't you know that I'm a little puffy tonight? Geesh!"

Good: In ONE WEEK, I'll be doing my last-minute total freak-out meltdown I'm leaving my family for three whole days and flying on an airplane for the first time since I was 8 and going to Disney World!! (I'm so excited it's shameful.)

Bad: In ONE WEEK, I'll be doing my last-minute total freak-out meltodown I'm leaving my family for three whole days and flying on an airplane for the first time since I was 8 and going to Disney World! (The flying is freaking me out. Really.)

Good: In approximately 3 weeks I'll be partyin' down with my fellow Okie Bloggers at the Round Up!

Bad: I'm still fat. Thankfully that's the only way anyone that'll be there knows me, so I'm going to call it my "persona" and run with that.

Good: The house is opened up tonight, I can hear the crickets and cicadas and feel the breeze softly blowing.

Bad: The reason the house is opened up tonight, and has been all day, is because our air conditioner is slowly dying. The thermostat went out on it last week and now it's taken to freezing up after running about 30 minutes. I finally gave up today and just turned it off, stripped the kids down and gave them all popsicles. Also bad about the house being opened up - I can smell the dog. Or Sasquatch. What/whoever the heck it is, it stinks.

Good: At least the air conditioner didn't die a few weeks ago when it was 115.

Bad: Why couldn't it go out in November?

Good: Mr. Diva's home tonight.

Bad: He's watched Outdoor TV all day long and is still watching it right now. I tried to have a conversation with him awhile ago and got nothing more than grunts. It's nearly huntin' season and I guess he's gettin' ready. Wahoo.

Good: I managed to clean out two closets today, priced all of my garage sale stuff and got the cleaned-out closets put back together.

Bad: You can't open my front door because I've made my foyer Garage Sale Central until Friday when we start setting things up.

Good: We're supposed to get more rain Saturday.

Bad: Garage sale. Saturday.

Good: The girls are learning some responsibility where their room is concerned.

Bad: The only reason they are learning to keep their stuff picked up off of the floor is because they have a mouse in their room. Abby found four Kix in her tennis shoe Monday morning and Tuesday morning said shoe had little turds in it. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the look on her face as she held the shoe out at arm's length, not unlike the way I held out the booger shoe.

Good: It's 10:30 and I'm ready for bed. Usually on Wednesday night we go out and usually don't make it to bed until 2 or 3am.

Bad: I should've gone to bed at 9:30 when I first said, "I think I'll go to bed."

A story about stats

One day, many, many years ago, a young man was walking to work where he did, among other things, yellowjacket extermination. He was walking that day because his sore ear earbud motorcycle was in the shop. He was dreading another day of swatting flies and hoped that the day would be busier than yesterday. To take his mind off of work, while he walked along he daydreamed. What do young redneck men daydream about? Well, I'm sure that some dream about owning their very own redneck video game, but most, I think, dream about redneck hoes, especially if they have a garden. Hey, if you're going to garden you might as well have a redneck hoe, right? I would hope that he never dreamed about drugged redneck women. Because that's just wrong.

Later on that day he was thinking of senior baby picture sayings for yearbook because he sure didn't want his baby picture saying to be like everybody else's. He wanted to be different! After hours and hours of thinking he finally decided on, "Yeah, we're divas, but we ride like big boys do." To each his own, right?

After work he met up with his girlfriend at the fat waist roller coaster across town. He could see her off in the distance, waiting for him. How did he know it was his girlfriend? Because she had had depo-provera and was fat in hips. Poor thing. But he loved her and even though he tried to be a gentleman, he frequently thought about her panties falling down. He also hoped that one day she would agree to be his wife and they could buy redneck bedding together.

His best friend, Eric Church, was supposed to meet up with them that evening, but he had heard that Eric was sweat bee sting reaction allergic, so there was a possibility they'd spend the evening just the two of them. What better way to say goodbye to summer? The evening went on and his friend never showed, so they sat under a tree and talked about their future together. They discussed the redneck sayings they wanted included in their wedding vows ("I do, by cracky!") and how they both hoped to someday own a drunk teen video blogspot. They snuggled under the tree, her lying in his arms and just before she drifted off to sleep she murmured, "picture baby copperhead" and he knew that his life was perfect.


-----------------------------------


Just for the record, no I haven't been drinking this morning - just checking stats. The bolded words in the story are all keyword searches that have led people to me recently. What people, you ask? Well, the folks from the Texas Dept of Agriculture seem to like me, as well as someone from the State of Arkansas and ConocoPhillips. I feel so loved! Of course, the 40 gazillion hits from North Carolina let me know that my family down there loves me, even though ol' Ernesto be knockin' at their doors. I know who visits me repeatedly from Sitton Motor Lines, Inc. (Hi, Cedric!) and I have a pretty firm fan base at NEO A&M College, as well. The Medical Center of Central Georgia isn't visiting because I give out great medical advice, I hope. That would be very scary. And whoever's visiting me from Erickson Retirement Communities just lets me know that I appeal to all ages and that gives me a warm fuzzy. I just hope that the folks at Michelin Tire Corp. aren't looking to make me their new model or anything.

But I lost it

I had a fairly annoying, whiny post written earlier this evening, but now that it's night and I'm feeling like crap and I'm tired, the whining I wrote earlier just doesn't seem to do the way I feel justice.

Abby's sick. Poor thing. She complained after she ate dinner that her stomach was hurting. I figured it was her nerves. She managed to stay off her Zantac all summer, but now that school is going again her nerves are all flared up and so is her stomach. We ate pizza for dinner, too - a sure fire way to set her off. So I gave her her Zantac and a Maalox and off we went. But about 15 minutes until gymnastics was over she came walking over to me, pale and MagnetLady swears she was green around the gills. Her tummy was rolling and cramping. She made it through the rest of class, but by the time we got home she was running to the toilet, bless her heart. Mom was sick all weekend with a stomach bug and I guess there are quite a few kids out of Ab's class sick, too. Yahoo. I'm sure it'll spread through all of us. You can pretty well bet that with three kids you're going to spend anywhere from 3 to 6 nights sleeping in the chair while your barfing/pooping/feverish child sleeps on the couch beside you. At least, that's how it is in my house. And Mr. Diva is assured anywhere from 3 to 6 nights with the bed all to himself, sleeping soundly, undisturbedly. In my next life I want to come back as him because he never pulls puke duty.

I'm not feeling so hot myself right now either. I had plans to price some more garage sale stuff, but the way I'm feeling right now I think I'll go to bed and I may not work tomorrow. Bleh. I'll have grumbly parents because of it, but when you've got the pukes and poops it's kind of hard to take care of a bunch of babies. Don't get me wrong, it can be done, but agh, why would you want to? Besides, most of my parents are pretty appreciative when I try not to spread disease among the group. Sick school kids are one thing, but sick, puking babies is a whole other ballgame.

But before I go, I just have to tell on myself.

In a moment of utter panic and weakness yesterday I not only highlighted my eldest child's hair, but I also turned her loose and let her shave with a razor. A real razor, people. Wanna know why I did those things?

Because yesterday I noticed that she's getting boobs. Real boobs, people.

I guess now I'm going to have to have "the talk" with her because her doctor said that once those, those......things start developing that it's only a matter of time (9 to 12 months he says) before she gets a monthly bill as well and then we'll start menstruating at the same time and her father will go certifiably insane and her brother will be completely convinced (as opposed to partly convinced now) that we're both aliens and well now, dammit, I guess I'll have to tell her what tampons are really for and not just that they are "for grown up ladies, I'll explain later."

My little girl is trying to grow up.

I think I'm going to go barf now.

Those shoes'll make you gag

Sunday we went to Silver Dollar City for a day of sweating our asses off frollicking in the sun and riding roller coasters and rides. Here in the Midwest our summertime temps aren't as hot as oh, say Hell, but they come pretty close. Of course, "it's not the heat, it's the humidity" - at least that's what I've heard my whole life.

While in the park we saw oodles of people in flipflops and sandals. I just don't get that. I know full well when I get dressed for a day of walking 40 gazillion miles that I'm wearing tennis shoes because life is too short to wear uncomfortable shoes. Especially when you're walking. A lot. And it's August in the Ozarks. Okay, yes, sandals are definitely cooler, but when it's all said and done I'd rather my feet be not screaming in pain with every step rather than oh so cool and air conditioned. And this policy goes for my children, too. They wear their tennies when we go to SDC.

There is a place in the park just for kids, called Geyser Gulch. It's chock full of ADHD-causing amusements, including a 3-story high jungle gym thing that strikes absolute fear in my heart and I've never let my children climb on it. It also has a sand box the size of Wrigley Field and no, my children have never played in that either. (I have issues - cat turd issues.) But they are free to play with the gigantic water canons and splash around in the little area of sidewalk that has random jets of water that will squirt right up your shorts if you're not careful. We visited that area of the park several times during the day to get the kids nice and wet, then we'd take them on a ride and they'd cool off.

Well, after splashing around in the water numerous times during the day, Kady's Stwawbaby Shootcake shoes with stwawbabies on the sides that "wight up" with each step, were good and squishy. We had just gotten off of Fire in the Hole, an indoor roller coaster that Mrs. Coach seems to think ducking at the end works to keep you dry but I'm here to tell you I ducked and I got soaked, and were waiting on some benches for Mom to get back from taking TotTwo to the restroom. Kady decided to take her shoes off and what was inside those squishy stwawbaby shoes were ten very pruny, fish-belly-white piggies and two nasty little things that I'm fairly certain were my youngest child's feet.

I sighed when I saw her wiggling her pruny piggies in the sunshine. Have you ever tried to put wet socks back on a four-year-old? I wasn't looking forward to that, but at the same time I'm sure it felt good to air out those mildewy feet of hers.

They had played in a sand table in the Kid Art exhibition (newer, colored sand that was indoors and didn't look like there was any chance that a rogue cat turd was lurking somewhere beneath the surface) and her socks were tinted pink from where her brother had dumped a scoop full of pink sand over the side of the table. I picked up her socks and shoes to shake them out and after flicking wet pink sand all over everyone in a 10 foot radius of me, tucked the wet socks down into her shoes. It was then, as I was tucking her little socks with the purple toes down into her super cool preschooler light-up shoes that I saw it -

a ginormous green booger.

On. Her. Shoe.

How on earth my youngest child came out of an indoor roller coaster with an infectious-looking green booger the size of a small slug smeared all over the top of her shoe I will never know. But I took one look at it and my stomach lurched and I gagged. Then in a disgusted, bordering-on-panicky voice said, "Oh. My. Gosh. (gag) Look at what is ON HER SHOE!!" Tater walked over to me, took one look at the booger from Hades and promptly gagged and held her hand over her mouth. Really, it was that bad. About that time, Mom walked up and asked what was wrong, finding her two daughters pale with a tinge of green, holding their hands over their mouths and the eldest of the two holding a pair of sneakers out at arm's length. Because she's a seasoned mother and grandmother she didn't gag or turn green but immediately turned away like I was holding the Ark of the Covenant and the top was sliding open to melt our faces clean off.

Tater said, "Throw the shoes away, Kristin! Sacrifice the shoes!!" But I couldn't do it. The very thought of the booger made me gag, but the thought of throwing away the shoes, the shoes she "wuvs" because "dey wight up" made me sad. So I picked up my barefooted, pruny-toed girl, fully prepared to piggy-back her the rest of the day, and we walked to the nearest store to ask for a plastic bag. They didn't have plastic, but offered me a paper one. I thanked them, disgustedly dropped the shoes in and was turning to walk out of the store when Abby said, "Look! A barrel of flip flops!!"

And for the rest of the trip we walked a little slower. Not because Kady was wearing flip flops and her feet hurt. No, it was because the flip flops have gignatic pink silk daisies on the thong part and she was walking slow so she could admire them.

I am doing laundry tonight and because I'm a bit behind in this chore, the booger shoes have been sitting in the sack since Sunday afternoon. I took the socks out of the shoes and put them in the hamper when we got home, but the shoes stayed in the sack. I just couldn't deal with them. But tonight I got brave and opened the sack to find that the booger has shrunken and dried, not unlike a salted slug.

And I'm not above bribing Mr. Diva with sexual favors if he will effectively wemove da boogah fwom da wight up Stwawbaby Shootcake shoes.

People piss me off

I'm totally stealing Hillbilly Mom's catchphrase, but I don't think she'll care. When people piss you off you're usually happy to know that it's not just you that's getting pissed off and that other people are having as much fun as you are. Or at least, that's how I feel.

Let me just tell you why I'm pissed off. Oh, you didn't ask? Oops. My bad. But since you're here already you might as well stay awhile. It looks better on my stats.

Okay, so yesterday was my second super-busy day this week. Usually Monday and Tuesday are my busy days, but this week it was Tuesday and Wednesday. And normally the busy days aren't bad days - they're just busy days. The good thing about being that busy, though, is that they go fast. But I think I've got a little touch of whacked-out PMS or something and was a bit whiny to begin with. Finding myself in the floor covered in baby slobber, spitup and snot yesterday was just depressing as hell. I even cried a bit. Nothing against the slobbery, spituppy, snotty babies - they just defaced my new camo capris, that's all. Some days the weirdest shit sets me off.

Then I happened to find out that my trust has been betrayed and things that I said to only close friends in a ranting session (or two) were repeated. Should I have said the things I said? Eh, the jury's out on that one. Technically, I guess not if I were trying to be a good Christian person, but most of the time I don't succeed at that. It's complicated. But the reason for my pissiness is that a supposed friend has breached a trust. That pisses me off to no end. I suppose if I was all nice and forgiving and stuff I wouldn't have been in this situation to begin with because my mouth would've kept itself shut, but ya know, when you're talking to your friends you kind of think you can vent a little bit in confidence. Guess not.

Then Mr. Diva's nephew pulled some spoiled brat shit and insulted my mother-in-law and man, when I heard the story I SAW RED. Spoiled-ass little shit.

I'm also dealing with some personal issues right now and it's got me all pissified too. Life's like that. Not like the box of chocolates ol' Forrest talks about, but I'm thinking more like a mangled box that the UPS has kicked around for a day or two then set out on the porch for the dog to piss all over.

Stepping it up one night and sweating it up the next day

Friday night I didn't do a flippin' thing. Mom took Sam for his turn at a uber cool solo sleepover with her and the girls and I just hung out. I considered painting their fingernails and watching High School Musical but we were all three so tired that we just took our plain fingernails to bed at 9. We are wild women, yes indeed. I slept in a bit Saturday morning while the girls ran amuck and asked me about every 10 minutes when I was going to get up. On mornings like that I don't know why I just don't get up, rather than lie there and be tortured. I finally rolled out of bed around 10 and started getting around because my darling husband who I love so much bought ANOTHER PICKUP TRUCK. It was looking like a used car lot around here over the weekend.

My uncle mentioned awhile back that he was thinking about selling his little Mazda and the price was so good that my husband who has a posession obsession just couldn't pass it up. Even though we're already paying insurance on a 2006 Dodge Ram, a 1997 Dodge Dakota, a 1998 Astro Van AND a 2005 Kawasaki Vulcan PLUS THE HOUSE. Yeah, the fine folks at our State Farm office have erected a statue of us out front.

But after he got the Mazda home he decided that he didn't really like it all that much, so rather than take it back claiming buyer's remorse, he sold it to his nephew. For no profit, of course, but at least we didn't have to tag it, insure it and find a spot to park it out here amongst the other vehicles. I guess I shouldn't complain about the abundance of cars - we do have three kids and eventually they will all have cars and will drive. Scary thought. I think when that happens I'm just going to pave a spot out front and put up parking meters for the kids' cars. Maybe get back a little of what I have invested in them over the years. It's a thought, anyway.

So anyway (after chasing that rabbit awhile and making a short story very long) I drove Paul over to my uncle's to get the [insert your choice of expletive here] truck. Then we had to visit awhile because my uncle just had a total knee replacement and he was just itching to tell us all about it. *shudder* Then finally Kady and I headed to town to buy my new cell phone. (Abby wanted to ride in the jumpseat of the new truck. I'm sure that was incredibly unsafe, but it was all dirt roads home, so I let her.)

Kady and I hit the Radio Shack ready to wheel and deal my way into a new phone. Little did the saleslady tell me last month that the phone she showed me and made me want and dream about and lust after was only $80 IF I renewed my contract. She made it sound like I could buy that phone for that low, low price and still keep my awesome plan that had free nights and weekends. She conveniently left that out and planted a seed of desire for that phone. So I walked in all sure of myself, ready to plunk down my $80 and get. that. phone. But instead I renewed my contract, added some minutes, took Paul's off of a ShareTalk and added it to a two-phone plan for just a few more bucks a month, kept my nights and weekends AND my mobile-to-mobile and......

wait for it......



OHMYGOSHIGOTARAZRPHONE
ANDILOVEITLIKEACHILD
ANDITLOVESMEBACK
ANDIT'SPROBABLYVERYUNHEALTHY
TOHAVETHATKINDOFRELATIONSHIPWITHAPHONE
BUTICAN'THELPIT.

(Cousin Stacey, your words were resonating through my head when the clerk pulled that Razr out of the box. A light from Heaven shone down upon it and the angels sang and my knees went all weak and your voice kept saying in my head, "I highly recommend the new Razr." Girl, I love you. And I love my new Razr.)

Okay, so new phone purchased I went to the bank to get some cash, but discovered that at some time recently the bank changed its closing time on Saturday to noon and no one bothered to tell me. I ended up going to the Bank of Mom and writing her a check for cash. She rawks. I bought my crew some McFood and headed home to get ready for our big Girls' Night Out.

Jill, Tammy and Tater met up here and we piled into Tater's car and headed to Joplin. We stopped at Ashley Furniture and browsed there, then went to Cato and I bought some AWESOME camouflage capris that I love almost as much as my Razr, but not quite. Paul found them rather amusing when I showed him. His comment was, "Ya know, for a woman who's never been hunting and doesn't like deer meat, you sure do own a lot of camo." Uh...yeah. Because I'm awesome. And I can so get away with it. Duh.

We ate at Logan's Roadhouse and YUM. That's really all I have to say about that. Yum, yum, yum. We talked girl talk and shared baby stories and parenting stories and husband stories and my gosh it was nice to do that. After dinner we stopped at Hank's Fine Furniture which you really can't say correctly unless you say it "Hayyynk's Faaaaaan Fuhr-ni-chure" and since I had absolutley no intention of purchasing one, I tried some bargaining techniques with a very unsuspecting salesman. He was so blindsided by Tater and I that I think he very much wanted to cry, but he was strong. Then I tried to talk him into a bargain on a bunk bed for Tammy, but the best he could do was 6% off on the whole deal. He really just didn't want to sell us any furniture is what I think. Of course, that might've been because we walked into the store 15 minutes before it closed. That might've had something to do with it.

We went to the show and saw Step Up and it was really good. Jill and I sat side by side, staring at the screen and I'm not 100% sure about her, but I'm fairly certain that she had just as much of an urge to jump up and dance as I did. Tammy didn't like it and Tater said she felt like she was watching a PSA or a Saturday Morning Special. She said it was just too "follow your dreams, overcome adversity" and hokey for her taste. I liked the hot guys dancing. We stopped in at Famous Barr for some rushed shopping. That going into a store right before it closes really doesn't make you too popular with the sales staff. Gonna have to remember that.

We got back here around midnight, but I had some laundry to do, things to pack and when I set my alarm for 4:30 it was 2:30. I don't recommend driving to Branson on two hours sleep.

Kady woke up at 5 barking and sounding like her asthma was flaring up. I gave her some allergy medicine, a couple of hits off her inhaler and we were on our way. We got some donuts, gas and picked up Mom and headed off to the land of the silver dollar, aka Silver Dollar City. We met up with the Coach family and gave them some free passes because their poor, pitiful children had never been to Silver Dollar City. I never felt so sorry for two kids in my life than the night they spent the night over here and Bryce said, "Yeah, we've never been to Silver Dollar City. I'm sure we'd like it if someone would take us." He was totally getting Nati in on the act, too, because she got this pitiful look on her face and kind of ducked her head. I wanted to laugh so badly, but I knew they were really playing that pity thing. It was a hoot. We saw them later on in the day and the whole family was soaked from head to toe from the waterboggan and they seemed to be having a blast. That was right about the time Kady started having an asthma attack. And I had left the inhaler in the van because I am working really hard on winning Mother of the Year this year.

Fortunately it wasn't a bad one and I managed to calm her down and she was fine, but we hightailed it into an airconditioned show and cooled her down. It was wicked hot and she had fallen and skinned her knee and then the crying made her start gasping and wheezing. It's a really scary feeling to know that your child needs her medicine and you don't have it. I'm going to get her one of those lanyards to wear her inhaler around her neck when we go places like that where I don't carry a purse. She has had a really good year and has had very few flare-ups, but those ones that pop up occasionally remind us all that she still has asthma.

We rode quite a few rides, me staying very far away from Powder Keg, though. Why torture myself. They have a new one called the ElectroSpin and Tater, Bub and I rode it first, us two girls getting the hysterical giggles once it started spinning. I always get the giggles on a spinny ride for some reason. Abby, TotOne and Sam were all tall enough for it, so we handed TotTwo and Kady some money and sent them off with their Bubba to play some arcade games. The longer we stood in line the more nervous Sam got and was nearly in tears when we got on. I knew he'd like it if I could just get him on there, so I didn't let him chicken out. He was crying when it started and if I weren't in the running for Mother of the Year I'd have pulled him off. When it went to spinning he squeezed his eyes shut so tight and gripped the handles until his knuckles were white. I, of course, was laughing hysterically. Not at him. But I couldn't stop!! Finally, amidst the giggles, I hollerd, "Sam! Are you having fun? DO YOU LIKE IT??" He screamed back, "NO! YES! I MEAN, NO! OKAY, YES!!" Then before I could ask him which one he meant he screamed, "I HAVE SNOT FLYING ACROSS MY FACE!!!" Then I laughed even harder. And when it was over he admitted that it was fun, but that he didn't ever want to ride it again.

We opted out of Celebration City, even though it had been part of the original plan. We were all hot and tired and sweaty and after dinner at the Cracker Barrel we headed back home to Oklahoma. Kady was asleep before we hit the Strip, not even waking up for ice cream. Abby and Sam crashed when we hit the interstate. Mom and I talked most of the way home, about life, about love, about kids, about husbands - about mother/daughter things. I love that. I love her.






I also love my new Razr. Have I mentioned that I have a new Razr?

Slumping

* Went out with Paul last night to High Winds casino. The lucky jerk won $1204.55 on a Cool Catz jackpot. $4 less and he wouldn't have gotten slammed with $350something in taxes. He won another $125 on a $5 machine right after that. I won $200 and now can buy a new cell phone rather than continue talking on the one I have right now which is only held together by a little bundle of wires.

* Kady is bound and determined to get all three babies to lie down for morning naps right now. And what's funny is that she actually has managed to get Little Nicky and Princess to do it and Princess is actually asleep! That kid's good. Or really mean and they're just scared of her.

* The kids are enrolled in gymnastics and will take their first class Monday. Abby is obsessed with cartwheels right now and if you ask her to fold towels she cartwheels all the way to the laundry room and then one-handed cartwheels her way back to the living room because one hand is holding towels. She cartwheels to the table for dinner, cartwheels her way out the door to catch the bus and I am pretty sure that she spends every recess cartwheeling all over the playground. Either gymnastics will make cartwheels seem old hat and she'll begin backflipping everywhere or she'll get tired of tumbling altogether and I'll have wasted my money.

* Supposed to be 104 degress today. That really sucks big amounts of suckiness.

* Right now I have a Shirt Tales pillowcase on my bed pillow because I seem to have lost my other beige pillowcase that matches the sheets. How does one lose a pillowcase?

* Note to self: Rememberto tell Irish Divinity, if the baby meows tonight it's because I just dug about 4 pieces of catfood out of his mouth. (He was really upset that I took it away, too.)

* I want a nap.

* Tomorrow we're doing a Girls' Night Out. There's a women's fair in Joplin that we're gonna hit, then we're going to have dinner, see that new dance movie (Can't remember the name now because my brain is dead and I just wish I could be asleep like Princess right now) and probably some other stuff.

* Sunday we're going to Branson. We've got those dang season passes and have only been to each park once. So from now until the end of the year we'll be going down there every free weekend. Next year I hope we manage to spread it out a little more rather than jaunting down there every weekend after school starts. But spring is so busy and summer is so hot, then by fall we panic that we've spent all that money and it's going to waste even though fall is just as busy as spring. We're not the brightest stars in the sky sometimes.

* We are so out of groceries that it's shamefull. I really suck at this housewife thing sometimes. Last night at 6:45 the kids asked if they could eat dinner. Oops. Good thing they think making their own pb&j's is cool.

* I would like to meet those Doodlebops in a dark alley one of these days. And I hope that if that ever happens, I'm carrying a tire tool.

I've got it

Monday was my appointment at the Indian Clinic to find out the results of my Factor V Leiden test. (You can read all the background on it in this post because I don't want to go into the whole thing again. It hurts my brain.)

I love my doctor at the clinic. She's an older woman, either Latino or Native American or possibly both, and I love her. She's very non-exciteable, very down to earth and she'll just tell it like it is. Plus, she and I had a pretty cool discussion about Lynyrd Skynyrd and Blue Man Group and how fun the Brad Paisley concert was (She didn't go, but we discussed my fun.) and if you can talk like that to your doctor then you have great healthcare, indeed. Plus, she didn't bust my balls over my weight or smoking, so she's the shit in my book.

She looked over my chart and started reading a blue sheet of paper with lots of words. Turns out those words were telling her that I do have Factor V Leiden.

Yep. I've got it. I'm potentially thick-blooded.

She ran some labwork, checking my clotting times, etc. and the results will decide which direction we go right now. If I need it, I will start taking an aspirin a day, which will not only thin my blood, but can save my life during a heart attack. Good ol' baby aspirin. Who knew. If I don't need it then we do nothing but make me an appointment for 2 months. She wants to check my protyme every two months for awhile and then if things continue to look good we'll space the checkups out to no more than 6 months. For the rest of my life. She said it's nothing to freak out over, but something I should never forget I have.

I asked her about travelling next month and she wants me to carry a copy of the test results with me on the plane and into Disney World. She said it's such an obscure, little-known disorder that if I'd walked into an ER that she was working in and had told her I had Factor V Leiden she'd have been clueless and might've offered me a tissue or an emesis basin. She wants me to always have the information on me in case of an emergency. She's a wise, cool doctor.

So now I'm waiting on more lab results. But I'm totally okay with it all. Mom and Tater kind of flipped their wigs, especially Mom because she's prone to wig-flipping, God love her. But they discussed my results with Coumadin Man and he said aspirin therapy was the right way to go. I have the approval of the Almighty Coumadin Man. Shalom.

And I haven't had a cigarette in two days.

Don't engage the crazy lady. It only makes her worse.

Yesterday JackJack was lying in the Boppy in the floor and I was leaned down over him, talking baby talk to him in an effort to elicit some kind of grin/coo/giggle from him. It was working and he and I were having a most wonderful conversation about the intricacies of life and how much money we saved on our car insurance by switching to Geico. Little Nicky came over and started attempting to climb on my back and pretend I was a pony, an occupational hazard of mine. I gently coerced him down - because my stirrups were in the wash and it's hard to pretend you're a pony without stirrups, you know - and said, "Look, there's Jack. Say 'Hi, Jack.'"

Then I spent the next 10 minutes laughing at myself for getting so tickled over the phrase "Hi, Jack". Jen's darling big kids were here and her girl kind of looked at me funny, cocked her head to one side and then broke eye contact, probably for fear that the hysteria was catching. I said, "But don't you get it? Hijack. Hijack! Like a plane. You hijack a plane! Don't you get it?" She looked back down at her book, but not before getting this uncomfortable look on her face, kind of like when you're at a nursing home and a little old lady you don't know comes up and tries to convince you that you are her dashing young WWII soldier boyfriend just back from the war. You just smile and act polite and look for the nearest exit. That poor kid handled it well and just quietly said, "I get it, Miss Kristin. I get it."