The kids and I watched It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown today and now it can turn October tomorrow with no problem. I am a firm believer that you must watch Great Pumpkin as much as humanly possible in order to usher in October properly. Who knows what would happen if we didn't and I don't want to find out, so I just keep on rewinding and rewatching.
When we were kids, movies and cartoons were much more sacred, ya know? We would hear the commercials heralding the upcoming SPECIAL TELEVISON EVENT and would beg our parents to not make us go to the bowling alley or to church or to whatever else might possibly be coming up in our lives, just so we could be home to watch a SPECIAL TELEVISION EVENT. As kids we lived for that once-a-year viewing of The Easter Beagle, The Great Pumpkin and whatever other holiday or event Charles Schulz came up with for his Peanuts gang. (Abby said last year their class watched a Peanuts film about a kid with leukemia. How depressing is that.)
I remember that for the rest of the evening after we watched a Charlie Brown special - remember we called 'em "specials" because they were? - we'd try to talk like the adults in the cartoon. "Muah muah muahmuahmuah muah" and when Dad told me that was really a muted trumpet (or was it a trombone?) I was disappointed because I wanted there to be a real person who could make that noise all by themselves and I wanted to be that person when I grew up. That seemed like a noble profession to a 6 year old - adult voice muah-muah-er for Peanuts cartoons.
The next day at school we all felt sorry for the poor kid who ended up at the bowling alley with his parents and missed out on the SPECIAL TELEVISION EVENT that would not be around again for 364 more days. Poor kid had probably seen the cartoon every year of his life, just like the rest of us, but somehow, in our minds, that child was borderline abused and certainly neglected.
Saturday morning cartoons were a big event at our house, too. Heck, they were at everyone's house because that was the only day of the week that cartoons were on - well, not counting SPECIAL TELEVISION EVENTS, of course. We got up at the buttcrack of dawn even though the only toons on at 6 were the stupid ones. But by 7 we were la-la-la-ing with our blue friends, the Smurfs, getting utterly cracked up stupid over that ornery mouse Jerry and his stupid archnemesis Tom and oh, by 9:30 is was time for Looney Tunes.
Overture, curtain, lights
This is it, the night of nights!
No more rehearsing and hearsing our parts -
We know every part by heart!
Overture, curtain, lights
This is it, we'll hit the heights -
And oh what heights we'll hit.
On with the show, this is it!
Over the years, ol' Bugs had various co-hosts, Road Runner and Tweety I believe were the two during my childhood, but Daffy tried a time or two, if recollection serves me right.
I say, I say, boyyyy....those were the cartoons.
My dad was (still is) a pretty no-nonsense kind of guy, but Dad watched Bugs Bunny with us every Saturday he could. I don't really remember him laughing, but they obviously amused him since he watched them every week.
After I got over my disappointment that I couldn't be a muah-muah-er for Peanuts, I then decided I wanted to work for Acme because Acme had everything! If you wanted a robotic girl coyote, they had one. Portable rabbit holes, they had those, too. Virtually any need could be filled by Acme and I wanted to be a part of such an up-and-coming business. Alas, my bubble was burst there, too.
The Wizard of Oz came on about once a year, too. Mom said the first time I watched it I was about 4. She said I laid on our lovely green floral couch (which felt strangely like burlap and would give you hickeys if you laid on it too long - yes, it was that comfy) and didn't move for 3 hours. She said I didn't show excitement at the Munchkins or fear at the flying monkeys or anger at that horrible wicked witch - she said I just laid there, mesmerized, and took it all in.
One year, I was probably 10 or so, they played The Wiz during prime-time. Funny, they never did that again.
Going to the show was a hugely big deal because we didn't go all that often. We weren't poor, but I guess it just seemed extravagant or my dad didn't want to fight a crowd or whatever reason. I remember one of the moms that traded babysitting with Mom too about 8 or 10 of us kids to see Bambi at the Coleman Theatre. We sat on the front row - a first for me - and threw popcorn into the orchestra pit. I'd kill my kids if they did that now, but when you're 11, it's big fun to get away with something like that.
My Nana took me to see all three Star Wars movies - the first two we saw in the Coleman and by the time the third one came out, the Coleman was closed so we saw it at the Thunderbird Twin. I know in my heart of hearts that Nana didn't like Star Wars but she knew I did and she sat through them all with me. She also bought me anything I wanted from the concession stand, something my parents just didn't do, but she was the Nana and she did. Because she could.
My Mom and Dad really wanted to see the movie Airplane! and for whatever reason, took me, too. Nana was there, also, which I've never understood why, unless she just really wanted to see it, which is weird in my mind because she always watched us kids if Mom and Dad went somewhere. I was 7 and obviously very naive - or else my parents were. I still won't let Abby watch it and she's nearly 11. I will never forget the scene where the plane is going down and Leslie Nielsen's vomiting all over his shirt, the cabin is in total chaos and here come naked boobs right across the screen. I think Nana nearly broke something trying to get her hands over my eyes before my innocent mind was further tainted by the vision of big bouncy boobs on the big screen.
Up until I was about 7 or so, movies in the theatre were always started with a cartoon beforehand. And it was usually Pink Panther cartoons. I loved those things. I didn't always get them, but the fact that there was no talking just got me.
But now....now we watch The Great Pumpkin for weeks on end, Pink Panther is on Boomerang every day and The Wizard of Oz is punctuated with trips to the bathroom, microwave popcorn
and shrieks that the flying monkeys will give someone "nightmawes." And I pre-screen everything beforehand for big bouncy boobs.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Bask in the glow of their aviary greatness
We live not far from Grand Lake and being on the creek and incredibly close to the river helps, too - every year around this time we see pelicans. Not dead people like that Haley Joel Osmont kid, but pelicans. The city of Grove hosts the Pelican Festival and it's a big ol' deal, lemme tell ya.
Today the kids were playing outside and I was doing - what else - homework when all of the sudden I heard hollers of "GO GET MOM!!" Of course, I broke two toes, turned over a chair, hurdled four piles of laundry and a recliner to get to the front door right about the time two kids came busting in screaming, "OH MY GOSH MOMTHEREARESEAGULLSINTHESKY!!!" as if they weren't mere birds, but flying fiery missiles of doom and destruction. I remembered reading on Stacie's blog that it's pelican time again, so I calmly told the kids that they weren't Seagulls of Doom, but pelicans. Just plain pelicans.
The kids watched in fascination as they swooped and swirled and probably pooped fishy bird poop all over the area and I had to grab the camera. Oh, not because I was particularly mesmerized by the birds, but because the kids were practically begging me to video the majestic creatures in all of their glory aloft as if there was a moratorium on pelicans going into effect at 5pm and we must capture this moment for the sake of our children, mother, don't you care about your grandchildren?!
So I did. But the best part of the video is at the end when you get to watch my oldest daughter - does she not remind you of Olive Oyl with those skinny long legs? - walk across the rocks in the driveway. That's the whole reason I posted this. She didn't know I'd gotten her hobbling like a firewalker short on concentration and when she saw me putting it up at YouTube she said, "Ohhhh man, you are so mean and dangit, MOM, DON'T BLOG THAT!"
"Okay, I won't."
It's a good thing she doesn't read my blog.
Today the kids were playing outside and I was doing - what else - homework when all of the sudden I heard hollers of "GO GET MOM!!" Of course, I broke two toes, turned over a chair, hurdled four piles of laundry and a recliner to get to the front door right about the time two kids came busting in screaming, "OH MY GOSH MOMTHEREARESEAGULLSINTHESKY!!!" as if they weren't mere birds, but flying fiery missiles of doom and destruction. I remembered reading on Stacie's blog that it's pelican time again, so I calmly told the kids that they weren't Seagulls of Doom, but pelicans. Just plain pelicans.
The kids watched in fascination as they swooped and swirled and probably pooped fishy bird poop all over the area and I had to grab the camera. Oh, not because I was particularly mesmerized by the birds, but because the kids were practically begging me to video the majestic creatures in all of their glory aloft as if there was a moratorium on pelicans going into effect at 5pm and we must capture this moment for the sake of our children, mother, don't you care about your grandchildren?!
So I did. But the best part of the video is at the end when you get to watch my oldest daughter - does she not remind you of Olive Oyl with those skinny long legs? - walk across the rocks in the driveway. That's the whole reason I posted this. She didn't know I'd gotten her hobbling like a firewalker short on concentration and when she saw me putting it up at YouTube she said, "Ohhhh man, you are so mean and dangit, MOM, DON'T BLOG THAT!"
"Okay, I won't."
It's a good thing she doesn't read my blog.
Feeding Back
Okay, the new header is up, the new colors are up - anyone vomited yet?
Yes, yes, it's very pink and purple, but well, I am a diva. I, however, am not married to the colors and haven't decided yet on the final color scheme. I guess I'm test-driving this one until y'all start commenting to tell me you love it or hate it. Or that I owe you a new keyboard because you just barfed all over yours.
If it's hard to read, makes your head hurt or gives you any other non-desirable symptoms, please let me know. To quote Bryan Adams, "Everything I do, I do it for you."
Many, many thanks to Lil for the kickin' header. When I opened my email last weekend and saw what she had created for me, I squealed so loud the dog barked. No kidding. Paul came a'runnin' because he thought there was either a mouse on my desk or I was being murdered (the two are not that far from each other in regards to how much I'd scream) and, once he made sure I was going to be around to finish raising his children, busted out laughing and said, "Wow, Lil sure does know you!"
Oh and by the way, if the t-shirt thing comes to fruition, the header above is what will be on the front of the shirts. No, I know it's not guy friendly, but if you're a guy and you want to wear a shirt that has the word "diva" and a clothesline with a pair of pink panties on it......well, you'll probably have no problem with it. (Sixty, buddy, would you wear it to the next Mary Kay party?)
Yes, yes, it's very pink and purple, but well, I am a diva. I, however, am not married to the colors and haven't decided yet on the final color scheme. I guess I'm test-driving this one until y'all start commenting to tell me you love it or hate it. Or that I owe you a new keyboard because you just barfed all over yours.
If it's hard to read, makes your head hurt or gives you any other non-desirable symptoms, please let me know. To quote Bryan Adams, "Everything I do, I do it for you."
Many, many thanks to Lil for the kickin' header. When I opened my email last weekend and saw what she had created for me, I squealed so loud the dog barked. No kidding. Paul came a'runnin' because he thought there was either a mouse on my desk or I was being murdered (the two are not that far from each other in regards to how much I'd scream) and, once he made sure I was going to be around to finish raising his children, busted out laughing and said, "Wow, Lil sure does know you!"
Oh and by the way, if the t-shirt thing comes to fruition, the header above is what will be on the front of the shirts. No, I know it's not guy friendly, but if you're a guy and you want to wear a shirt that has the word "diva" and a clothesline with a pair of pink panties on it......well, you'll probably have no problem with it. (Sixty, buddy, would you wear it to the next Mary Kay party?)
Friday, September 28, 2007
It's official!
I spent my day today moving my little sister out of the farmette only to come home and MOVE MY BLOG TO ITS NEW HOME!!! I've been a busy girl today, huh?
Please change your bookmarks to http://www.theredneckdiva.com/. The blogspot address will still redirect, but I'd still like to get direct hits, ya know?
And to celebrate the moving and whathaveya, I took some really awful pictures of myself. It's 88' right now here in NE Oklahoma and we turned out AC off. I don't want to turn it back on, so we're suffering through the weekend in hopes that things cool off by next week. Annnnyway, the minute I walked in the door I pulled my hair back in a big humongous curly poufy ponytail and didn't think about taking pictures of my new bling. I'm not taking it down, but I had so many (three!) requests for the bling, I took the pictures anyway.
Those of you who will be seeing me next weekend at the Okie Blogger Roundup, please don't change your plans and decide not to go now. I swear I won't be so scary next Saturday.
I love taking pictures in the mirror.
I am also easily amused.
Look.....a hint of bling on the ear piece.....makes you long for more....I mean long for more bling, less forehead. (Thanks, Dad, for that lovely piece of DNA)
Oh look - less forehead, MORE BLING!!
Glaring white cheek.....need blush......
Please do not be frightened of my glowing white face - I look much better in candlelight. That's why I carry candles with me everywhere I go.
Please change your bookmarks to http://www.theredneckdiva.com/. The blogspot address will still redirect, but I'd still like to get direct hits, ya know?
And to celebrate the moving and whathaveya, I took some really awful pictures of myself. It's 88' right now here in NE Oklahoma and we turned out AC off. I don't want to turn it back on, so we're suffering through the weekend in hopes that things cool off by next week. Annnnyway, the minute I walked in the door I pulled my hair back in a big humongous curly poufy ponytail and didn't think about taking pictures of my new bling. I'm not taking it down, but I had so many (three!) requests for the bling, I took the pictures anyway.
Those of you who will be seeing me next weekend at the Okie Blogger Roundup, please don't change your plans and decide not to go now. I swear I won't be so scary next Saturday.
I love taking pictures in the mirror.
I am also easily amused.
Look.....a hint of bling on the ear piece.....makes you long for more....I mean long for more bling, less forehead. (Thanks, Dad, for that lovely piece of DNA)
Oh look - less forehead, MORE BLING!!
Glaring white cheek.....need blush......
Please do not be frightened of my glowing white face - I look much better in candlelight. That's why I carry candles with me everywhere I go.
Ecotards rule
But by the grace of God I got a 75% on my Macro test. A 75%!!!! I never in my wildest dreams thought that I'd be thankful and ecstatic about a C. Never. Paired with the 100% I got on the homework assignment (turning in 7 chapters of notes, which thankfully, I took plenty of) I have a rip-roaring 77.5% in the class AND (oh, it just keeps getting better, folks) because of The Curve which is friend to mathtards and ecotards everywhere, that 77.5% is not a high C. Oh no, it's a HIGH B!!!
I was so excited about the C on the test (which I got about 5 minutes before class started) I called Paul right then and there, then promptly sent Tater a text message. Another guy in the class came in right about the time I was squealing about the 75 and as soon as I hung up asked how I got my score. I directed him to the computer lab so he could check his email and get his, then I went back to the classroom. In the meantime another girl came in and I asked how she did. She got a 50. And when the guy came in the room he reluctantly announced his 45. They both looked sick and it made me feel bad for gushing about my 75 to anyone who would listen. Fortunately The Curve helped them, too, and they're not failing the class.
It was decided that the three of us would be getting together to study for the next test. Three ecotards in a meeting of the minds could very well be dangerous. The instructor said if we wanted to stay after class he would go over what we missed and help each of us individually, but considering that, of the 5 people in the classroom, 4 stayed I opted to just make an appointment to go over mine in his office next week.
I overheard conversations from the satellite classes and they all bombed it, too. I feel so much better knowing that.
Misery loves company, huh.
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And now I'm off to help Tater move! WHOOHOO! Can this week get any better? I now have the chance to sweat and break nails and possibly have a stroke in my sister's new house! Awesome.
It's a good thing I love her as much as I do.
I was so excited about the C on the test (which I got about 5 minutes before class started) I called Paul right then and there, then promptly sent Tater a text message. Another guy in the class came in right about the time I was squealing about the 75 and as soon as I hung up asked how I got my score. I directed him to the computer lab so he could check his email and get his, then I went back to the classroom. In the meantime another girl came in and I asked how she did. She got a 50. And when the guy came in the room he reluctantly announced his 45. They both looked sick and it made me feel bad for gushing about my 75 to anyone who would listen. Fortunately The Curve helped them, too, and they're not failing the class.
It was decided that the three of us would be getting together to study for the next test. Three ecotards in a meeting of the minds could very well be dangerous. The instructor said if we wanted to stay after class he would go over what we missed and help each of us individually, but considering that, of the 5 people in the classroom, 4 stayed I opted to just make an appointment to go over mine in his office next week.
I overheard conversations from the satellite classes and they all bombed it, too. I feel so much better knowing that.
Misery loves company, huh.
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And now I'm off to help Tater move! WHOOHOO! Can this week get any better? I now have the chance to sweat and break nails and possibly have a stroke in my sister's new house! Awesome.
It's a good thing I love her as much as I do.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Blogging From Work Volume 3
30 minutes until class. I've got killer, nuclear, monster butterflies. I'm so silly that way - the test is over, yet I'm still nervous. Go figure.
I'm considering buying Stewed Hamm a plane ticket and taking him to one of my Macro classes so he can see WHY the entire class is clueless. Maybe it's just us, maybe it's Economics in general. Either way, I want Stewed Hamm to go to class with me. I'd buy him a beer afterwards, too.
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I got new arm and ankle bling today to go with the new bling on my glasses. I am blingalicious. And because I think would be Fergie if I could, I will spell it for you.
B-l-i-n-g-a-l-i-c-i-o-u-s
You're welcome.
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A little over one week to go until the Okie Blogger Round-up! I'm getting so excited!
The other night we were sitting in my living room discussing the upcoming event. Tater said, "Well, I just want you all to know, I'm wearing a boobie shirt. Just in case there is some single Oklahoma blogger there." I told her I thought that was a good call.
Paul, not to be left out of the conversation, said, "Okay, and I'll wear my penis pants! You know, just in case......well.....just in case."
I don't think it'd be possible to love him any more than I do right now.
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Today at lunch there were 8 of us ladies sitting around the table at the Mexican restaurant. The conversation turned to TV shows and everyone started talking about a show they'd watched last night. It was a crime show, not a clue what it was. They also discusssed a new one called "Life" on NBC. I sat there quietly eating my chicken nachos el charro while they lamented over a particular character leaving and how someone was going to commit suicide. Finally I said, "Yeah, and I can't WAIT for the premier of Cavemen next week."
Crickets chirped. 14 eyes looked upon me as if I'd sprouted my very own cavemen right out of my right breast. And they think they can make a social worker outta me. It is very clear that by my television watching preferences alone, I am not cut out for a career in social work.
I want to be entertained by laughing at my television programming. Folks, I have so little time for TV these days, I make sure that what I watch is going to make me chuckle, laugh or even snort. Watching the characters blacklight for semen and scrape brains off of bedspreads doesn't make me snort. Like watching Wayne Newton dance - THAT made me snort. And kind of feel a little bad for him, too.
Although.... I doubt Cavemen is going to make me snort, but I'm willing to give it a try.
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Every day someone in my bulk mail folder asks me if I'm satisfied with the size of my manhood and every day I stop and think, "Yes. Yes, I am. My penis is just fine, thanks."
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Benjamin Franklin is bor-ring.
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I'm still with Fred.
I'm considering buying Stewed Hamm a plane ticket and taking him to one of my Macro classes so he can see WHY the entire class is clueless. Maybe it's just us, maybe it's Economics in general. Either way, I want Stewed Hamm to go to class with me. I'd buy him a beer afterwards, too.
----------------------
I got new arm and ankle bling today to go with the new bling on my glasses. I am blingalicious. And because I think would be Fergie if I could, I will spell it for you.
B-l-i-n-g-a-l-i-c-i-o-u-s
You're welcome.
---------------------
A little over one week to go until the Okie Blogger Round-up! I'm getting so excited!
The other night we were sitting in my living room discussing the upcoming event. Tater said, "Well, I just want you all to know, I'm wearing a boobie shirt. Just in case there is some single Oklahoma blogger there." I told her I thought that was a good call.
Paul, not to be left out of the conversation, said, "Okay, and I'll wear my penis pants! You know, just in case......well.....just in case."
I don't think it'd be possible to love him any more than I do right now.
--------------------
Today at lunch there were 8 of us ladies sitting around the table at the Mexican restaurant. The conversation turned to TV shows and everyone started talking about a show they'd watched last night. It was a crime show, not a clue what it was. They also discusssed a new one called "Life" on NBC. I sat there quietly eating my chicken nachos el charro while they lamented over a particular character leaving and how someone was going to commit suicide. Finally I said, "Yeah, and I can't WAIT for the premier of Cavemen next week."
Crickets chirped. 14 eyes looked upon me as if I'd sprouted my very own cavemen right out of my right breast. And they think they can make a social worker outta me. It is very clear that by my television watching preferences alone, I am not cut out for a career in social work.
I want to be entertained by laughing at my television programming. Folks, I have so little time for TV these days, I make sure that what I watch is going to make me chuckle, laugh or even snort. Watching the characters blacklight for semen and scrape brains off of bedspreads doesn't make me snort. Like watching Wayne Newton dance - THAT made me snort. And kind of feel a little bad for him, too.
Although.... I doubt Cavemen is going to make me snort, but I'm willing to give it a try.
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Every day someone in my bulk mail folder asks me if I'm satisfied with the size of my manhood and every day I stop and think, "Yes. Yes, I am. My penis is just fine, thanks."
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Benjamin Franklin is bor-ring.
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I'm still with Fred.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Conquerer
I have spent my entire evening setting up my new! wireless! printer!
I add those exclamation points in an effort to make it seem wayyyyy more exciting than it was because believe me, it was not.
I got it set up from the desktop and it worked great. The laptop, however, was another story entirely. At 10:30 I got that blasted thing to print for the first time. (I got home at 3:30. Yeah.) (Darn you, Vista! Darn you!) There was much jubiliation and praise to God at that point because He had to have seen the fact that I was ready to throw something - namely the printer - out the door and it was His Divine Intervention that printed that page.
So now here it is 10:52 and I'm starting my homework for the night.
Let no one say my priorities aren't in order.
And as a footnote: I had a moment of utter maternal glee this morning when I heard my 5 year old singing "Jenny - 867-5309" -- and she got the phone number perfectly right. That's my girl.
Oh yeah, another footnote: Picked up my new glasses this afternoon. They are quite bling-y and very much scream DIVA at anyone who gazes upon my face. And yeah, there are tons of folks lining up for that, lemme tell ya. I'd take a picture, but I've had my makeup on since 6:30am and I'm so shiny the glare would shatter the camera, not to mention my mascara is riding somewhere around my nose right about now. But trust me when I say, I am gorgeous.
Tune in tomorrow for Volume 3 of "Blogging From Work" - the edition where I'm moments away from getting the results of my Macro test and the diarrhea is back.
I add those exclamation points in an effort to make it seem wayyyyy more exciting than it was because believe me, it was not.
I got it set up from the desktop and it worked great. The laptop, however, was another story entirely. At 10:30 I got that blasted thing to print for the first time. (I got home at 3:30. Yeah.) (Darn you, Vista! Darn you!) There was much jubiliation and praise to God at that point because He had to have seen the fact that I was ready to throw something - namely the printer - out the door and it was His Divine Intervention that printed that page.
So now here it is 10:52 and I'm starting my homework for the night.
Let no one say my priorities aren't in order.
And as a footnote: I had a moment of utter maternal glee this morning when I heard my 5 year old singing "Jenny - 867-5309" -- and she got the phone number perfectly right. That's my girl.
Oh yeah, another footnote: Picked up my new glasses this afternoon. They are quite bling-y and very much scream DIVA at anyone who gazes upon my face. And yeah, there are tons of folks lining up for that, lemme tell ya. I'd take a picture, but I've had my makeup on since 6:30am and I'm so shiny the glare would shatter the camera, not to mention my mascara is riding somewhere around my nose right about now. But trust me when I say, I am gorgeous.
Tune in tomorrow for Volume 3 of "Blogging From Work" - the edition where I'm moments away from getting the results of my Macro test and the diarrhea is back.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
A few thoughts
Cavemen were tough. And while I am fascinated with watching them on the Science Channel, I am afraid I won't be so fascinated with the upcoming sitcom.
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I need a device that will automatically detect the background noise in the room and then turn the TV volume up or down accordingly. The volume is fine until the AC kicks off, then it's freakin' blaring. So then you turn it down to avoid permanent hearing loss only to find that about a minute and a half later you can't hear it because the AC is back on again. And you kind of, for about a second or two, think that that last blare of volume finally went and did it and destroyed your hearing, then you remember that it's the dang AC again.
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"Kady, if you think you need to tootie, DON'T. Okay? Got it? Seriously, whatever you do, do not toot unless you are on the toilet."
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Seventy-five pages of reading about Benjamin Franklin and the things he wrote is not my idea of fun. I mean, I like to read and all, but ol' Ben Frank isn't my number one choice. Now, put him at Hogwart's and let's see how he fares - then you'd have a reader here, by cracky.
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Why can't all children's TV programming be as awesome as PBS? There are some killer kid shows on PBS. Right now, Kady and I are enamored by Super Why and Word Girl. Just a few minutes ago she figured out that the word needed to finish a game was "deactivate." She's five. I was impressed.
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I think for lunch Kady's going to have a cheese and rice sandwich on white bread with a side of banana-flavored applesauce. That way I'll cover all the parts of the BRAT diet and more than likely constipate her so well that by week's end I'll be having to give her a laxative.
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I wish I could work from home. I really like staying at home. But somehow, I don't think the friendly folks at DHS would let me bring home the lateral files and house them in my bedroom or anything.
Don't get me wrong, the job is fine, but I just really like staying at home. I like being a housewife. Tater went berzerk when the kids went to school and she was staying at home because she said it was too quiet, but man, I love quiet. I'd also cook and bake and my homework would always be caught up.
Now....to go rob a bank.....or find a job that will let me stay at home.....
I just don't think I'm suited to work in a traditional sense. Cousin Stacey says I don't play well with others and man, she's right. I don't really like people all that much. Oh, I like visiting with people I see at Wal*Mart and auctions and stuff like that, but I don't like seeing people on a daily basis on their terms. I don't like having to play by someone else's rules, I don't like wearing uncomfortable shoes and peeing in the office restroom because man, I pee a lot I've discovered. I like making people laugh, but I prefer to do it through my writing. I'm a mess, aren't I?
Go ahead, tell me to grow up, tell me "Welcome to the real world, babycakes" and secretly think to yourself that I'm really just lazy, but I might cry if you actually tell me, so be prepared for that. And know that I'm not lazy - I have no problem earning money and working to do it, I just don't want to do it anywhere but in my house.
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It's a long time until LOST starts again and frankly, that makes me a bit frustrated and edgy.
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A few weeks ago, Kady crawled up in her Grammy's lap and said, "Gwammy? I'm a wittle hungwy. Do you have someting I could eat or swallow?"
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After Abby's baptism on Sunday, as we were leaving the church one of the deacons said, "Hey, Abby! No bath tonight, huh?" We laughed and went on after hugs and congratulations. Later that night when I told Ab to hit the showers she said, "Nuh uh. Dale gave me permission to skip tonight, remember?" I gave her that look and said, "Yeah, well Jesus washed away your sins, but sweetie, you smell like butt. Go take a shower." I have a feeling she's going to have a talk with that deacon.
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I need a device that will automatically detect the background noise in the room and then turn the TV volume up or down accordingly. The volume is fine until the AC kicks off, then it's freakin' blaring. So then you turn it down to avoid permanent hearing loss only to find that about a minute and a half later you can't hear it because the AC is back on again. And you kind of, for about a second or two, think that that last blare of volume finally went and did it and destroyed your hearing, then you remember that it's the dang AC again.
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"Kady, if you think you need to tootie, DON'T. Okay? Got it? Seriously, whatever you do, do not toot unless you are on the toilet."
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Seventy-five pages of reading about Benjamin Franklin and the things he wrote is not my idea of fun. I mean, I like to read and all, but ol' Ben Frank isn't my number one choice. Now, put him at Hogwart's and let's see how he fares - then you'd have a reader here, by cracky.
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Why can't all children's TV programming be as awesome as PBS? There are some killer kid shows on PBS. Right now, Kady and I are enamored by Super Why and Word Girl. Just a few minutes ago she figured out that the word needed to finish a game was "deactivate." She's five. I was impressed.
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I think for lunch Kady's going to have a cheese and rice sandwich on white bread with a side of banana-flavored applesauce. That way I'll cover all the parts of the BRAT diet and more than likely constipate her so well that by week's end I'll be having to give her a laxative.
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I wish I could work from home. I really like staying at home. But somehow, I don't think the friendly folks at DHS would let me bring home the lateral files and house them in my bedroom or anything.
Don't get me wrong, the job is fine, but I just really like staying at home. I like being a housewife. Tater went berzerk when the kids went to school and she was staying at home because she said it was too quiet, but man, I love quiet. I'd also cook and bake and my homework would always be caught up.
Now....to go rob a bank.....or find a job that will let me stay at home.....
I just don't think I'm suited to work in a traditional sense. Cousin Stacey says I don't play well with others and man, she's right. I don't really like people all that much. Oh, I like visiting with people I see at Wal*Mart and auctions and stuff like that, but I don't like seeing people on a daily basis on their terms. I don't like having to play by someone else's rules, I don't like wearing uncomfortable shoes and peeing in the office restroom because man, I pee a lot I've discovered. I like making people laugh, but I prefer to do it through my writing. I'm a mess, aren't I?
Go ahead, tell me to grow up, tell me "Welcome to the real world, babycakes" and secretly think to yourself that I'm really just lazy, but I might cry if you actually tell me, so be prepared for that. And know that I'm not lazy - I have no problem earning money and working to do it, I just don't want to do it anywhere but in my house.
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It's a long time until LOST starts again and frankly, that makes me a bit frustrated and edgy.
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A few weeks ago, Kady crawled up in her Grammy's lap and said, "Gwammy? I'm a wittle hungwy. Do you have someting I could eat or swallow?"
-----------------------------------
After Abby's baptism on Sunday, as we were leaving the church one of the deacons said, "Hey, Abby! No bath tonight, huh?" We laughed and went on after hugs and congratulations. Later that night when I told Ab to hit the showers she said, "Nuh uh. Dale gave me permission to skip tonight, remember?" I gave her that look and said, "Yeah, well Jesus washed away your sins, but sweetie, you smell like butt. Go take a shower." I have a feeling she's going to have a talk with that deacon.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Icky
How can one be hot and cold at the same time? I don't get it. You're freezing so you get a blanket because a blanket sound so good and comfort-y, but as soon as you get all cozy it becomes clear that putting that blanket on your body is suddenly the equivalent of putting a blanket of molten lava on your body, so you throw the blanket off only to find yourself chittering and chattering and shaking and wondering where the hell that blanket went.
I ended up sleeping with the blanket curled around one arm and that arm tucked under my chin, the other arm thrown out and not touching anything but the bed and only touching it because I couldn't defy gravity. One leg was wrapped up in blanket and the other was uncovered from hip to ankle, but I had to have my foot covered.
Being sick bites. Hard.
I slept a lot today.
And why am I so fascinated by those shows about cavemen on the Science Channel?
The one about the killer, human-flesh-chewing ants this morning was nightmare fodder, I'm tellin' ya.
By 2 I was feeling moderately human again and the house felt cold and claustrophobic, so I went to pick the kids up at school. Kady, after throwing her body into me at warp speed and hugging me so fiercely I thought I was going to break or at the least dent, informed me that her belly had hurt all day. I tried to remember what they served in the cafeteria for lunch because through careful research I've discovered that most bellyaches after school come from hunger when one or more of my children opt out of lunch, but my brain was still melted/frozen from the fever/chills thing I'd had going on earlier, so I instead just patted her on the head and said we'd get a snack when we got home.
Tot One spent Saturday night puking and performing various other unpleasant bodily functions that involve toilets. She apparently had the same thing Sam and I had back before school started - she was so dizzy she couldn't walk. Bless her little heart. I kind of knew, in the back of my mind, that we were long overdue for a hostile germ takover.
I got everyone home, they attacked the snack bowl, then bam - one fruit snack and a sip of grape juice and Kady was gagging. Bad idea, that snack. Baaaad idea. I told her to spit the fruit snack out, for Pete's sake, and please don't puke on me, child. I told her to go to the toilet if she was going to hurl and man, she high-tailed it. After I cleaned up the half-chewed fruit snack that had oh-so-elegantly missed the trashcan, I found Kady in the bathroom, kneeling before the ol' porcelain throne. She was pale and had big circles under her eyes. Oy vey.
With Ab's help I fixed Kady up the usual pallet on the couch - I drape my couch in sheets so that if the ailing child does happen to miss the trashcan, they at least won't get my couch with a direct hit. I'd rather wash a sheet than a couch. She laid there awhile, moaned and groaned, curled her knees up under her chin and moaned some more. Then, bam she was fine.
Agh, I was frustrated. But at the same time, too tired to tell her the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf. So I sent her outside to play, which is what she wanted to do.
She played outside with the other kids for about 15 minutes then was back on the couch, curled up with her knees under her again. Within a few minutes she was sound asleep. I called my supervisor and left a voice mail that I might not be in again tomorrow. Kady slept through dinner, a rather rowdy and loud game (or seven) of PacMan between Tot Two and Sam, four showers, three out-loud readings by Tots One and Two and Sam, and then the bringing-out of every Littlest Pet Shop critter my kids own and the building of a critter town in my living room floor. I sat in a stupor and watched them, watched my pale 5-year-old sleep in the midst of the noise and wondered how much filing would be on my desk come Wednesday if I miss yet another day of work.
She woke up around 7:30 and seemed fine, but still pale and complaining of a headache. I fixed her a piece of toast, she ate it, put on her pajamas, got her woobie, Mimzy, both Build-a-Bears, curled up on the couch and said, "I fink I'll go back to sweep now."
I ended up moving her to my bed after draping it with the sheets that had previously draped the couch. I'll sleep in a raincoat so if she barfs toward me and not the trashcan I'll be somewhat protected. Paul's camped out on the couch because he's spent the entire day with (oh he's gonna kill me for writing this out loud) a case of the runs.
I love it when school starts and the germs are new and fresh and eager to infect.
I ended up sleeping with the blanket curled around one arm and that arm tucked under my chin, the other arm thrown out and not touching anything but the bed and only touching it because I couldn't defy gravity. One leg was wrapped up in blanket and the other was uncovered from hip to ankle, but I had to have my foot covered.
Being sick bites. Hard.
I slept a lot today.
And why am I so fascinated by those shows about cavemen on the Science Channel?
The one about the killer, human-flesh-chewing ants this morning was nightmare fodder, I'm tellin' ya.
By 2 I was feeling moderately human again and the house felt cold and claustrophobic, so I went to pick the kids up at school. Kady, after throwing her body into me at warp speed and hugging me so fiercely I thought I was going to break or at the least dent, informed me that her belly had hurt all day. I tried to remember what they served in the cafeteria for lunch because through careful research I've discovered that most bellyaches after school come from hunger when one or more of my children opt out of lunch, but my brain was still melted/frozen from the fever/chills thing I'd had going on earlier, so I instead just patted her on the head and said we'd get a snack when we got home.
Tot One spent Saturday night puking and performing various other unpleasant bodily functions that involve toilets. She apparently had the same thing Sam and I had back before school started - she was so dizzy she couldn't walk. Bless her little heart. I kind of knew, in the back of my mind, that we were long overdue for a hostile germ takover.
I got everyone home, they attacked the snack bowl, then bam - one fruit snack and a sip of grape juice and Kady was gagging. Bad idea, that snack. Baaaad idea. I told her to spit the fruit snack out, for Pete's sake, and please don't puke on me, child. I told her to go to the toilet if she was going to hurl and man, she high-tailed it. After I cleaned up the half-chewed fruit snack that had oh-so-elegantly missed the trashcan, I found Kady in the bathroom, kneeling before the ol' porcelain throne. She was pale and had big circles under her eyes. Oy vey.
With Ab's help I fixed Kady up the usual pallet on the couch - I drape my couch in sheets so that if the ailing child does happen to miss the trashcan, they at least won't get my couch with a direct hit. I'd rather wash a sheet than a couch. She laid there awhile, moaned and groaned, curled her knees up under her chin and moaned some more. Then, bam she was fine.
Agh, I was frustrated. But at the same time, too tired to tell her the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf. So I sent her outside to play, which is what she wanted to do.
She played outside with the other kids for about 15 minutes then was back on the couch, curled up with her knees under her again. Within a few minutes she was sound asleep. I called my supervisor and left a voice mail that I might not be in again tomorrow. Kady slept through dinner, a rather rowdy and loud game (or seven) of PacMan between Tot Two and Sam, four showers, three out-loud readings by Tots One and Two and Sam, and then the bringing-out of every Littlest Pet Shop critter my kids own and the building of a critter town in my living room floor. I sat in a stupor and watched them, watched my pale 5-year-old sleep in the midst of the noise and wondered how much filing would be on my desk come Wednesday if I miss yet another day of work.
She woke up around 7:30 and seemed fine, but still pale and complaining of a headache. I fixed her a piece of toast, she ate it, put on her pajamas, got her woobie, Mimzy, both Build-a-Bears, curled up on the couch and said, "I fink I'll go back to sweep now."
I ended up moving her to my bed after draping it with the sheets that had previously draped the couch. I'll sleep in a raincoat so if she barfs toward me and not the trashcan I'll be somewhat protected. Paul's camped out on the couch because he's spent the entire day with (oh he's gonna kill me for writing this out loud) a case of the runs.
I love it when school starts and the germs are new and fresh and eager to infect.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
A proper dunking, among other things
Friday I was off, as I usually am on Fridays. I had an eye doctor appointment at 9, so I dropped the kids off at Mom's auction so they could bug her instead of me (her idea, not mine) and got my eyes dilated and peered into.
Turns out I'm less blind than I used to be. The last three times I've had my eyes examined, they've had to lessen my prescription. The doctor said that as a teenager I used too much power and wanted to see things boldly and now that I'm older, I don't need to do that anymore and therefore, my eyes say, "Hey, I'm incredibly lazy now and you are using me too much. Back off, dude!" He said my constant studying and computer use made it all the more obvious and that's why I've been having such frequent headaches.
And just wait'll you see the glasses I got! Months ago I checked with EyeMasters and they offered me two pair for $230 and I was totally sold because my last ONE pair from the optometrist cost me just under $600 and I didn't want to do that again. But I figured it wouldn't hurt to, you know, just see what the eye doctor had -- The glasses I picked out have rhinestones down the earpieces and the sunglass clip has rhinestones all-freakin-over them. They just scream "I may be blind, but I am still a diva!" And they weren't $600. Whew.
The whole time I was trying them on I couldn't help but think of the scene in the movie Grease where Marty loses one of her diamonds off her glasses in her mac and cheese.
----------------------------
Friday evening Mom watched the kids overnight. The original plan was that Abby was just going to stay and we'd pick her up at Saturday's auction, but then Paul was actually open to the idea of going to the show so I called Mom to see if she'd take two more kids. We dropped the kids off the went to the Stables to, you know, eat. It just so happens that there's also a casino there. Hmh. Pretty coincidental, if you ask me.
We drove the yard barge - aka the big truck, a Dodge Ram the size of Mt. Rushmore - and two other yard barges parked on either side of us, one of them incredibly crooked. Before it was said and done, I was standing in the parking lot, arms over my head, directing Paul while he inched his way out. Just so happens there was a freakin' Jag behind us and we weren't keen on denting it. I felt like I needed an orange vest and some lighted cones, but turns out my hands and gray t-shirt were enough.
We saw Superbad and it was okay. Not supergood, but not superbad. Definitely not as good as The 40-Year Old Virgin or Knocked Up, but still pretty funny in parts. There was one part that I snorted, so if it gets a snort out of me, it's not a total waste of money. I probably would've laughed more had I seen it with Tater, though, to be honest. We just laugh more together. Plus, there was a row of about 5 college guys behind us who found it utterly hiLARious to fart loudly throughout the movie. Not just little poots that you could smell and wonder what in the world is that SMELL, but I'm talking disgustingly liquid-sounding bun-rattling farts that made them laugh hysterically and caused my husband to snicker and me to shake my head at their stupidity. Hmh, wonder why they were the movies on a Friday night with each other and not girls.....
---------------------------
Saturday night I wrote a paper over the relevance of computers in the world of journalism. Whoo hoo.
--------------------------
Today was Abby's Baptism. I cried like a baby. She was so precious and innocent, yet so grownup and wise-looking at the same time. Before, during the service, she leaned her head on my shoulder and looked off my Bible, her legs crossed like a young lady, but then when she stepped down into the baptistry in that white gown, she looked like a little girl again.
-------------------------
I took a 2-hour nap this afternoon. I haven't taken a Sunday nap in ages. Paul and the kids conqured PacMan like three times. Like, PacMan used to seem so hard, yet my 8 year old was the first one to clear the entire game. Go figure.
-------------------------
The design for the new look of Redneck Diva is complete and being prepared for the web. My license plate will be done in a week and she's going to make a t-shirt for me to test wear, make sure I'm satisfied with the quality and then we'll decide how many to print after that.
Tonight I bought a domain and over the next few days will get the blog settled in there. Maybe some gingham valances and a bean bag or two to make it feel like home.....
I am a dot com.
Turns out I'm less blind than I used to be. The last three times I've had my eyes examined, they've had to lessen my prescription. The doctor said that as a teenager I used too much power and wanted to see things boldly and now that I'm older, I don't need to do that anymore and therefore, my eyes say, "Hey, I'm incredibly lazy now and you are using me too much. Back off, dude!" He said my constant studying and computer use made it all the more obvious and that's why I've been having such frequent headaches.
And just wait'll you see the glasses I got! Months ago I checked with EyeMasters and they offered me two pair for $230 and I was totally sold because my last ONE pair from the optometrist cost me just under $600 and I didn't want to do that again. But I figured it wouldn't hurt to, you know, just see what the eye doctor had -- The glasses I picked out have rhinestones down the earpieces and the sunglass clip has rhinestones all-freakin-over them. They just scream "I may be blind, but I am still a diva!" And they weren't $600. Whew.
The whole time I was trying them on I couldn't help but think of the scene in the movie Grease where Marty loses one of her diamonds off her glasses in her mac and cheese.
----------------------------
Friday evening Mom watched the kids overnight. The original plan was that Abby was just going to stay and we'd pick her up at Saturday's auction, but then Paul was actually open to the idea of going to the show so I called Mom to see if she'd take two more kids. We dropped the kids off the went to the Stables to, you know, eat. It just so happens that there's also a casino there. Hmh. Pretty coincidental, if you ask me.
We drove the yard barge - aka the big truck, a Dodge Ram the size of Mt. Rushmore - and two other yard barges parked on either side of us, one of them incredibly crooked. Before it was said and done, I was standing in the parking lot, arms over my head, directing Paul while he inched his way out. Just so happens there was a freakin' Jag behind us and we weren't keen on denting it. I felt like I needed an orange vest and some lighted cones, but turns out my hands and gray t-shirt were enough.
We saw Superbad and it was okay. Not supergood, but not superbad. Definitely not as good as The 40-Year Old Virgin or Knocked Up, but still pretty funny in parts. There was one part that I snorted, so if it gets a snort out of me, it's not a total waste of money. I probably would've laughed more had I seen it with Tater, though, to be honest. We just laugh more together. Plus, there was a row of about 5 college guys behind us who found it utterly hiLARious to fart loudly throughout the movie. Not just little poots that you could smell and wonder what in the world is that SMELL, but I'm talking disgustingly liquid-sounding bun-rattling farts that made them laugh hysterically and caused my husband to snicker and me to shake my head at their stupidity. Hmh, wonder why they were the movies on a Friday night with each other and not girls.....
---------------------------
Saturday night I wrote a paper over the relevance of computers in the world of journalism. Whoo hoo.
--------------------------
Today was Abby's Baptism. I cried like a baby. She was so precious and innocent, yet so grownup and wise-looking at the same time. Before, during the service, she leaned her head on my shoulder and looked off my Bible, her legs crossed like a young lady, but then when she stepped down into the baptistry in that white gown, she looked like a little girl again.
-------------------------
I took a 2-hour nap this afternoon. I haven't taken a Sunday nap in ages. Paul and the kids conqured PacMan like three times. Like, PacMan used to seem so hard, yet my 8 year old was the first one to clear the entire game. Go figure.
-------------------------
The design for the new look of Redneck Diva is complete and being prepared for the web. My license plate will be done in a week and she's going to make a t-shirt for me to test wear, make sure I'm satisfied with the quality and then we'll decide how many to print after that.
Tonight I bought a domain and over the next few days will get the blog settled in there. Maybe some gingham valances and a bean bag or two to make it feel like home.....
I am a dot com.
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'Pert Near Five Years
It's been nearly five years since my last post, and even that was a repost from my newspaper column. I think you can attribute it to wri...
