Thursday, February 26, 2009

Classical Pain

Oh my Lord. Do you know what it is like to read Les Miserables with a 16 year old boy?

It. is. torture.

First of all, a ton of the words are french. I did not take french. I took Spanish... I took Spanish while living in Southern California. All I remember is the swear words I picked up from the Cholos (and I so don't know if that is spelled right). We've taken to guttural moaning in a french accent whenever we come upon those words which always makes Double Shot laugh. Well, and me too sometimes. It depends on how many pages were assigned and how late it is.

Twice now I've gotten Mr. Macchiato to do the reading with Double Shot. It is a true testament of his love and devotion to me. Well, and I may or may not have bribed him.

Tonight we read the following:

This manuscript of fifteen pages revealed to her suddenly and sweetly the whole of love, the sorrow, the destiny, the life, the eternity, the beginning, the end. It was like a hand which had opened and thrown suddenly upon her a handful of sunbeams. She felt in these few lines a passionate, ardent, generous, honest nature, a consecrated will, an immense sorrow and a boundless hope, an oppressed heart, a glad ecstasy.

Double Shot: Laughing, laughing... laughing... (then using a bad french accent) Victor Hugo is the love doctor. More laughing.

Me: Shut up. We've got to get through this. (thinking to myself... no wonder he wouldn't read this on his own)

A couple pages later...

"Forgive me, I am here. My heart is bursting, I could not live as I was, I have come. Have you read what I placed there, on this bench? Do you recognize me at all? Do not be afraid of me. It is a long time now, do you remember the day when you looked upon me?...

At night I come here. Do not be afraid, nobody sees me. I come for a near look at your windows. I walk very softly that you may not hear, for perhaps you would be afraid. The other evening I was behind you, you turned around, I fled...

Double Shot: Total stalker dude. He'd totally go to jail today.

Once I heard you sing. I was happy. Does it disturb you that I should hear you sing through the shutter? It can do you no harm. It cannot, can it? See, you are my angel, let me come sometimes; I believe I am going to die. If you but knew! I adore you! Pardon me, I am talking to you, I do not know what I am saying to you, perhaps I annoy you, do I annoy you?"

Double Shot: Laughing... Fureeeak!!!

She took his hand and laid it on her heart. He felt the paper there, and stammered:

"You love me then?"

She answered in a voice so low that it was no more than breath which could scarcely be heard:

"Hush! You know it!"

And she hid her blushing head in the bosom of the proud and intoxicated young man.

Double Shot: What is a bosom? It makes me think of a butt.

Me: It is a person's chest.

Double Shot: I was thinking she shoved the letter down her crack... laughing.

Me: Ugh.

Double Shot: Laughing... so he's all (does a squeezing motion with his hand out...like toward a breast) Say you loooooove me.

Me: Stop.

He fell upon the bench, she by his side. There were no more words. The stars were beginning to shine. How was it that their lips met? How is it that the birds sing, that the snow melts, that the rose opens, that May blooms, that the dawn whitens behind the black trees on the shivering summit of the hills?

One kiss and that was all.

Both trembled, and they looked at each other in the darkness with brilliant eyes.

Double Shot: Big bowl of cheese. Cheesey Cheese Balls.

Me: Keep reading!

From time to time Marius' knee touched Cosette's knee, which gave them both a thrill.

Double Shot: oooooh our knees touched!

Me: Ugh.

At intervals, Cosette faltered out a word. Her soul trembled upon her lips like a drop of dew on a flower.

Double Shot: How is this the abridged version?

Me: Shut up. Keep reading!

Gradually they began to talk. Overflow succeeded to silence, which is fullness. The night was serene and splendid above their heads. These two beings, pure as spirits, told each other all their dreams, their frenzies, their ecstasies, their chimeras, their despondencies, how they had adored each other from afar, how they had longed for each other, their despair when they had ceased to see each other...

When they had finished, when they had told each other everything, she laid her head upon his shoulder, and asked him:

"What is your name?"

"My name is Marius," said he. "And yours?"

"My name is Cosette."

Double Shot: Oh my freaking gosh! Odorous stench of french cheese!

Me: Laughing.

And I don't know what "chimeras" is.

Grumpy Mean Man

I had a dentist appointment yesterday. I cut it close time wise so I was distressed when I turned down the street on the side of the building to see that all the parking spaces were taken, as well as all the spots along the curb on the other side of the street. I had just passed the front of the building and already knew that the parking spaces along the curb on both sides of the street for quite a way were also taken. I drove around the building to the other side where there is a large parking lot that had twenty or more open spaces. UGH!

About two years ago a grumpy mean man bought the medical building next door which includes the entire parking lot on that side of the building. Our dentist has been in his building a jillion years (that means I don't know exactly how long... but a long time). The previous owner had no problem with our dentist's use of the parking lot. Grumpy Mean Man? Big problem.

Now, I can see where this guy would not want our dentist's patients using his parking lot if there was not enough parking and patrons of his building were having trouble. That is not the case. Every time I've been to this dentist over the past six years there have been many open parking spaces along our dentist's building. Our dentist offered to either buy or rent those spaces along his building. Grumpy Mean Man said "NO!"

Signs were posted all along that side stating that dental patients could not park there. However, often times, they would any way. Grumpy Mean Man hired a SPY whose job is to watch the parking spots and call a tow truck ASAP if anyone parks in the parking lot and goes into the dentist office. No one was alerted to this development and some patients came out to find their cars either gone or in the process of being towed. Now office staff have to watch out the window for unsuspecting patients parking there so they can tell them to hurriedly move their vehicle.

I was in a dilemma. I decided to park on the far side of the parking lot thinking maybe they'd think I was going into the medical building. I was also hoping the dispute had been settled. As I was scurrying across the parking lot I realized that the SPY might be watching me. I got into the office a couple minutes late and told the office ladies I couldn't find a parking spot and where I parked. They told me Grumpy Mean Man was still being mean and to go move my car quick. Another patient was leaving and told me she would wait for me on the other side of the building so that I could have her spot. Otherwise I would have had to hike in from way out yonder.

As I walked back into the building, noting all the empty parking spaces, I had to wonder... why? Why is Grumpy Mean Man so unreasonable? Did my dentist marry his high school crush? Did he grow up in a large family with siblings that didn't respect his boundaries? Could he use a visit from the ghosts of the past, present and future? Is his underwear simply too tight? I know that makes me grumpy.

It is a mystery. Whatever the cause, I hope Grumpy Mean Man finds love and happiness... soon.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Out of the Frying Pan and into the FIRE?

Booper likes to go to the park.




He didn't used to like to ride in the car.
Now he does.
Especially if we are going to the park.
It makes him happy!

Booper smiling at me makes me happy!




This is our 2005 Chevy Trailblazer.
Or... this was our 2005 Chevy Trailblazer.

We recently had to replace the entire electrical bundle for the dash... no, that particular part of the car was not under warranty and it cost a lot.

The automatic door locks decided that they only want to work... when they feel like it.

The moulding has been falling off for some time and we've had it reattached and some replaced.

The front passenger door was coming apart.

Mr. Macchiato likes to buy cars.
I'm the one who usually holds back.
Until I want a new car.
Then... all I do is say,
"I don't like my car."

Mr. Macchiato got on the computer and started doing his thing.
It didn't look like we could do it because we probably wouldn't get enough in trade for the Trailblazer.
My mind went on to other things.
Not Mr. Macchiato's.
I wanted to go for a walk.
Mr. Macchiato said, "Wait."

Mr. Macchiato then said, "Let's go look, I found something."
In the car he said, "If they give us at least $$$, we can do it."

We went to Carmax.
We sat down to see what they would give us in trade.
They came back with more than Mr. Macchiato's bottom line.

We looked at a Ford Explorer...
two Nissan Pathfinders...
and a Lincoln Aviator.

Mr. Macchiato had them run the numbers on all four.
We were there a long time.

I'm a Ford girl.

We got the Lincoln Aviator.



This beauty is a 2004 with under 35,000 miles.
I fell in love.
I call her Fancy.

She made our insurance go down.



She's even prettier on the inside than she is on the outside.


She's a lovely hostess.
She makes people comfortable and...
is most welcoming.
a

And she can go fast.
Don't worry,
I've been warned.
I also have not gotten a ticket in six years.
I'm a good girl now.
a

Only...
There was a dinging of a small bell after we brought Fancy home.
She started to quiver just before accelerating...
and at stop lights.
a

We have 5 business days to give her back.
I don't want to give her back.
I love Fancy.
a

We took her to the service center yesterday morning.
They said water must have gotten in the coils when the engine was washed.
They took it apart.
It is air drying.
I am nervous.
Very nervous.
a
Will they put it back right?
a
Will we have to say goodbye to Fancy?


Do I need a pretty car?
Am I not blessed with the wonders of creation all around me?



The mountains, the sky...
the very wind that moves...

The wonders of a 16 year old boy mind...


How about a Kia?
It is zippy.
It is cheap.
It gets good gas mileage.
a
When there is ice and snow...
I can stay in my house...
and blame it on my car.
a
I can say, "NO!" to car pooling more than two smelly teenage boys.
Smelly boys in a very small car...
Smelly boys that are adult size...
with their knees pressed into the back of the front seats.
a
Here's your one chance Fancy don't let me down!

Monday, February 23, 2009

Text Time!

Ahhhhh... my text boxes are full and need to be emptied. As I flipped through them I got a few chuckles. I thought I'd share... but, I'm not telling you which is from who.. Nope. You can just wonder. He He!

What do you want? Agh! R u sitting in the pt office being really bored?

Okay... that is getting a little weird.

How does she think we paid her tuition?

Lu Lu rules.

Bored?

Nonsense. I always love you. How is your terrible rotten fur baby? How is my wonderful lovable infallible Lu Lu?

Miss Me?

Benny Best Dog! (with picture)

Yiggy Yo!

You don't love me today. No call. No text. No nuthin'.

Oh puhleeeeeeze. Every bad thing Booper has done Lu Lu taught him!

Benny is drooling all over me. Lu Lu is a hag.

No. Freak.

Yip yip unh huh unh huh.

ooooooh! Find out how to take care of it so you don't kill it!

Do you want me to cook or do you want to go out?

Buy American? Okay Mr. XL7

Dream on!

Amazing!

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Please Join Me...

In welcoming Just Me's brand spankin' new, PINK little sweetie!!!

Oh, I wish I could hold her and squeeze her and... smell her.

Okay ladies... brace yourselves against the uteran groanings. It is tough. But, seeing her is so worth it!

Friday, February 20, 2009

I Can Be A Blessing

I don't like public restrooms. Does anyone? I don't want to see, hear or smell whatever people are doing in there. I don't.

I also don't like people I don't know touching me. Shaking hands is fine. Seeing as I go to church, this is often problematic for me. I have certain places I like to sit in the sanctuary and I like to arrange our family so that I do not have to sit next to a stranger. They might brush my arm during the service or something. Truthfully, I'd prefer that the seats on either side of me were empty. Really. I like my space. The worst is when we are instructed to give people hugs. Uhhhh... why? I don't want my badonkadonks pressed up against anyone and I certainly don't want to feel theirs.

It is these very facts about myself that cause me to wonder...

Do you ever feel that God is using you? That He has set up divine appointments for you? That you have a purpose?

One time I walked into the restroom at a Perkins and there was an elderly lady that was quite distressed. She desperately needed to go potty but she could not unbutton her pants. I unbuttoned them for her and helped her pull her pants down. Don't worry, I left the wiping to her. I then helped pull her pants up, zipped and buttoned them. We didn't even exchange names.

Another time I was in an airport restroom and another elderly lady that was in a wheelchair needed help to the toilet. Thankfully, she had on elastic waist pants and could pull them up and down on her own. Once she was back in her chair I refilled her water bottles from the fountain just outside the doors.

Then there was the time someone was crying. I never did see her but I passed her toilet paper under the stall door along with some girlie stuff I bought from the machine. It was my impression that she was fairly young.

Actually, the passing of the toilet paper is a common thing.

Once in a Wal-mart restroom I held a lady's baby for her so she could go. He was darling.

I am a public toilet angel.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Got Chocolate?

Actually... I'm not really stressed. This just made me laugh. I didn't know what to post today and went looking through my pictures. I lifted this from Rick's site quite awhile ago and forgot about it. I certainly have had days like that though.

I am hungry. I just ate a big bowl of oatmeal too! It might be because I am making red beans and rice. It won't be ready until tonight but I can smell it. Mr. Macchiato told me I make them the best. They say a way to man's heart is through his stomach. He says the day he decided to ask me out was the day we went on a group picnic and I brought potato salad I made. Nice. I really would prefer he say something like a breeze gently ruffled my hair, I was enveloped in an erethral glow and he was overcome by my beauty. Nope. Potato salad. Of course, I absolutely love feeding people and an easy way to my heart is to compliment my cooking.

Last night I made chicken curry.

Ugh.

How can I be hungry? I'm going to have to go see if Double Shot didn't steal all the gum out of my purse.

Yesterday I made rice crispy treats. I made plain ones and then I made peanut butter ones with cocoa crispies. They make me feel sick though.

I made banana bread the other day. I gave the rest of it to Mr. Macchiato and Double Shot for breakfast. I didn't get any. Of course, I ate plenty of it yesterday. I made up the recipe and used whole wheat and honey instead of sugar. Next time I'm going to add another banana.

Good Lord PLEASE have MERCY.

I'm still hungry.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Travis the Chimp

I'm sure most, if not all, of you have heard the story of the 15 year old chimp named Travis that mauled a woman in Connecticut yesterday. The release of the 911 tape of his owner calling for help is heart wrenching. I cannot imagine the horror that these two women went through.

Having had pets over the years, I know the connection you can make with an animal. I loved our golden retriever, Eve, so much that I still have her picture as the background on my cell phone and think of her every day... two years after her death.

I heard the owner of Travis is a widow who also lost her daughter a few years ago and that the chimp was like a child to her. As a mother, I cannot imagine anything worse than losing one of my children. As a wife, I cannot imagine losing my husband.

We once had two half lab/half golden retriever dogs named Goldie and Shadow. They were wonderful dogs and incredibly well behaved. We got them because a neighbor behind us had so many cats we could not count them. The cats would come into our backyard and do their business in our planters. Our children were 6, 5 and 3 at the time and we quickly grew tired of the invasion of our space. I contacted animal control because there was a law limiting the number of cats you can have in a residence to four. I was told that we could rent a cage for $30 to trap the cats and then call for them to be picked up... no thanks.

We had Goldie and Shadow less than a year when my husband found a dead cat in our yard. The dogs had eaten all its insides. We were very disturbed. We then learned from our next door neighbor that the dogs were jumping our fence at night and going after cats. We put them in our garage at night. They started jumping the fence during the day so I chained them in the yard.

One bright and sunny afternoon I had them in the backyard without being chained. I had all of windows open and had been in and out of the yard. They really were sweethearts. They jumped the fence and in the space of 20 minutes hunted down and killed two cats in front of many of our neighbors. A posse' came to our house and demanded we put them down. One of the men said they hunted as a team and that they were so intent that he could not stop them.

We talked to our vet... once dogs start hunting and eating fresh meat they lust for it. The Humane Society will not adopt out animals that have killed other animals. We had to put them down. I had to take them myself. I will never forget having to say goodbye to them and then walk back through the parking lot to my car as I could hear shots being fired from a nearby firing range. It was so unfair... we got them to keep the cats out of our yard and then we had to put them down for doing just that. The neighbor with the cats? Nothing was done.

Animals are animals. I'm afraid that in our society animals are wrongly humanized. From the earliest ages our children's' heads are filled with the personification and/or characterization of animals, plants, and things. Human thought and feelings are attributed to almost everything. Stories of people raising wild animals and domesticating them often spark a desire in some to do the same.

I've stated on this blog before that I'm not one of those Christians that God speaks to in an audible way. I just don't get that. I have so many unanswered questions and yet still have faith. It is so clear when I stop to consider creation all around me.

"For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who suppress the truth in unrighteousness, because what may be known of God is manifest in them, for God has show it to them. For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and the Godhead, so that they are without excuse, because, although they knew God, they did not glorify Him as God, nor were thankful, but became futile in their thoughts, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Professing to be wise, they became fools, and changed the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like corruptible man - and birds and four-footed animals and creeping things. Therefore, God also gave them up to uncleanness, in the lusts of their hearts, to dishonor their bodies among themselves, who exchanged the truth of God for the lie, and worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever. Amen."


Romans 1:18-25, New King James Version

I think it was on my political blog that I said that I believe God could have created everything in six days but that I don't know if he did. I've met Hugh Ross and read The Creator and the Cosmos. I am also familiar with Ken Ham and Answers in Genesis. This is a divisive issue among Christians. Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that this is not a salvational issue and that, for me personally, it is okay to say I don't get it.

Due to Jesus' words in Matthew 19:4, "Have you not read that He who made them at the beginning 'made them male and female,'..." I do not believe that humans evolved from apes. I believe that humans were created separately and that we posses abilities and souls that animals do not. My confusion lies in how long creation took.

It is interesting to me that those who believe in evolution often use behavior in the animal world to explain and/or condone certain behavior in humans. I think of it as a sort of de-evolution. It is confusing to me because if they believe we are evolved from animals then shouldn't we be beyond animal behavior?

We live in a world where the truth of God's creation is being suppressed through evolution. We live in a world where animals are elevated on par with, and sometimes even exalted above, humans. In some circles even plants... trees specifically... are attributed with human feeling and rights. Our very nature is different from animals. Animals cannot be trusted to reason and make human choices.

My heart goes out to this woman and her friend. I am praying for them and their healing. I cannot imagine having to try to stab a pet that was a beloved part of her life for 15 years. I cannot imagine having to call for help to have him killed. I cannot imagine the pain of watching a friend be attacked by a pet she trusted. This is truly a tragedy. I hope it is a lesson to all that animals are and always will be... animals.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Clothes Make the Man???

I recently shared that I had bought some new work clothes for Mr. Macchiato. Because shopping with him is akin to beating my head into a wall, I bought many things for him to choose from within the comfort of our home with the intention of taking back the things he did not like.

Mr. Macchiato is an accountant and does not like spending money on certain things... like clothes. When he saw the large pile on the couch he immediately went into resist mode. I held up each article and proceeded in creating keep and take back piles. I did buy a pair of super baggy gangster jeans as a joke. He was horrified and Double Shot and I got a good laugh out of it. He drove me crazy with all the back and forth because he only wanted to keep a couple things and he really needed more. In the end we reached a compromise. That is Coffee Bean speak for it went my way.

One of the articles we kept was a new pair of Dockers for him to wear on Fridays. His other pair was only suitable for a rag bag. This particular pair of Dockers has this neat little feature in the waistband that can expand if needed. It is not noticeable to anyone but the person wearing the pants. This ensures that they will never be uncomfortable if there is a temporary weight gain... which, you know, happens. Mr. Macchiato has a pair of dress pants with this feature. He was annoyed with me when he discovered it but he wears them regularly and they always look nice and never pinch.

Last Friday I laid his clothes out for him. I do this every day because he does not know how to match his clothes. Unless, of course, I am mad at him and then I let him go to work in whatever he puts together... which always amuses me. Well, and okay... has on occasion made me feel really guilty when he's come home and I'm faced with the full realization of the atrocities of his ensembles. I actually even lay out his socks. And his underwear.

Anyway, late Friday morning I got a call from him.

MM: What is with the Mr. Jumbo McFat Ass pants?

Me: Laughing... What?

MM: These are expandable pants! They are for Jumbo McFat Asses.

Me: Laughing so hard everything goes white and I momentarily wonder if I might pass out.

MM: Why do you buy me pants like this? They are 38's that can expand to friggin 44's!!! They are maternity pants for men!!!

Me: Laughing so hard I can't breathe. My sides start to hurt and I am seriously dangerously close to actually passing out.

MM: Yeah. I thought you'd find that funny.

Me: Laughing... oh... stop! I can't breathe.

MM: I didn't think you'd find it that funny.... Well, yeah, thanks for the Jumbo McFat Ass pants.

Later that night when he came home he was complaining about the pants to Double Shot. I told him they look nice and will always be comfortable. He took his belt off and then pulled the waistband out in front of him. They really could be maternity pants! Double Shot and I were just howling!

Me: Oh! Oh! Please! Can I take a picture of that for my blog?

MM: HELL NO!!!

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Ten Juicy Things

Well... my buddy Karen at Fresh Fixins passed this on to me last week. Honestly, I didn't know how I could possibly come up with any more juicy things about me that I haven't already shared on this blog. I mean really. There's a reason y'all don't know my real name and there aren't any identifiable pictures here! I've been thinking... and thinking some more... and I found some. They are not all juicy. They all, however, are true.

These confessions revolve around a friend I had in Jr. High and my first year and a half of High School. My father liked to call her, "Skippy." Not to her face, of course. Just amongst our family. She liked to pull the front part of her hair up into two rubber bands on either side of her head. That coupled with the fact that she often let her mouth hang open reminded my Dad of a dog.

I don't recall the exact moment I met Skippy. I just know that we were in Jr. High. My family moved from the Seattle area to Southern California (north of San Diego) when I was in the middle of 7th grade. She was a church girl and introduced me to Amy Grant, Keith Green and the contemporary Christian music of that time.

1. I sometimes went to her church with her which was located near Encinitas in an area called Cardiff by the Sea. My first experience with pot was behind the building before church started. No, I did not smoke any. I had just never seen or smelled it before and did not even know what it was called. I was quite taken back by it. I had always wanted my family to go to church and those kids had that... and yet chose to act that way.

To give you a little background... I have the ability to be outgoing and my Mom has many stories from my early years. However, I was never that way at school. I hung back and observed. I wanted my teachers to like me. I loved to read. In fact, I worked in the library of our school through Jr. High. I loved the librarians and they were pretty fond of me. We'd talk about the books I was reading and they would tell me about others they thought I would like. During that time I also had an English teacher I really liked. He was an older gentlemen that somewhat resembled Santa Claus. He had some medical emergency that took him out for a couple of months and he sent a note to the substitute teacher telling her some nice things about me and to have me help her if she needed it. She read it out loud in front of the class and then asked me to stand up. I was teased pretty badly for these things and for that reason did not seek to develop relationships with my teachers in high school... or get involved in any extra-curricular activities. I just wanted to be invisible. Where friends were concerned I just took what came my way.

2. Skippy was loud. She definitely ran the show where we were concerned. She also liked to get physical sometimes and shove me. I never quite knew how to take that. She would also punch me in the boob. Well, I didn't have boobs yet. She punched me where I should have had a boob. Always the left non-existent one. Sometimes it really hurt. I used to lay awake at night and fret about it. I was afraid she damaged it and that it would never grow. I had heard that one of my aunts only grew one boob. I seriously lost a lot of sleep over it. When I was 28 and had to have a mass removed from my left breast... I thought of Skippy.

3. One time we rode our bikes to a large park with a fountain. I brought my little brother, Trevor, who was 5 or 6. We were approached by an older man who told us that he was a photographer and that he thought we could be models. I wasn't too sure about that. Skippy got very excited and agreed for us so he left to get his camera. I told her I didn't think he was telling the truth. She got upset with me and felt that I was trying to screw up her being discovered. He came back with a very nice camera and proceeded to direct us in how he wanted us to pose. Trevor was jumping up and down and making muscles while he said, "Take a picture of me! Take a picture of me!" which he did.

Then the man wanted to take pictures of me by myself and I was very uncomfortable with the way he was wanting me to pose. Skippy started getting mad because he was taking pictures of me and demanded that he take pictures of her by herself. It was obvious that it was me that he was interested in. Looking back as an adult, I'm certain this man was into kiddie p*rn. It wasn't that I was better looking than Skippy... I was much less developed and looked younger than I was.

I refused to pose the way he was asking and moved with Skippy out of his hearing and whispered to her that there was something very wrong with all of it. The man was talking to Trevor and as we got closer we heard Trevor telling him our home phone number and address which he had recently learned.

At that point, Skippy finally became alarmed but was still hoping he really was a model photographer. He told us that he needed our addresses so he could send us copies of the pictures he took. Skippy told him that he needed to give us his business card so our parents could call him. He got very nervous and then finally ripped the phone number off of the corner of a business card while telling her he had to do it that way because it was his last one. She grabbed the card from his hand and read that it was for an auto body & parts shop... and went crazy!

Skippy demanded he hand over the film from his camera. He said it would ruin the film and that he had other pictures on the roll. He also tried to tell us that he was a part-time photographer and that that was why he had the business card he did. She started screaming and tried to grab the camera away. People started looking over at us so he quickly took the film out and handed it to her. We got on our bikes and decided to go to my house, even though it was much farther from the park than hers, because my parents were home.

A couple blocks from the park we noticed that the man was following us in his car. We got very scared and started riding as fast as we could. Trevor had not been riding a two wheeler long and was falling behind. I was screaming at him to go faster and he was crying. We got off the street and followed a path that went behind the houses. We were hysterical by the time we made it to our house and my parents were a bit overwhelmed by everything we had to say. I don't remember if they called the police or not. If they did, I did not talk to them.

A couple months later this man approached me again in the park around the corner from our house. I was alone so I ran as fast as I could back home. I looked back just as I was turning into our yard and saw him watching me from the top of the hill. When my Dad quickly came back out with me he was gone.

4. I was over at Skippy's house one night when she caught a frog out in the street in front of her house. She then put the frog into a jar. Instead of poking holes into the lid she put some water into the jar and shook the jar. She then wanted me to shake the jar. I backed away but she kept thrusting it at me. I was afraid she was going to punch me in my non-boob so I shook it gently. She dumped the frog out onto her driveway, it staggered drunkenly, threw up and then died. To this day I cannot look at a frog without thinking of that poor frog we killed.

5. When we were freshmen in high school we ate lunch with a big group of kids. We often sat in a giant circle. There was a large, loud mouthed, red headed kid that was regularly beyond obnoxious. I never said much and one day he was being rather rude to some others in the group. I finished my apple and then lobbed it in his direction. It hit him on the top of his head and everyone started laughing. He got up and left. About 10 minutes later he came back with this frizzy haired woman... she was a junior but her body was such that I was sure she had to have been held back several years. The boy pointed in my direction. This crazy person stomped over and grabbed Skippy up by the neck and started hitting her while hollering about an apple. I was so shocked I went and grabbed her by the arm and yelled that I was the one that threw the apple. She turned toward me in a wild eyed fury and I started running. We were down by the gym so I headed for the locker room. Big mistake. Before I knew it my head was shoved into a locker and she was slamming the door over and over on my back and neck. Thankfully, a coach came and broke it up. We were all sent to the Principal's office. It was the one and only time I ever was sent to the Principal's office. The beating machine was suspended and I was given a warning not to throw apple cores.

6. Skippy invited me to go to the beach with her church group. My Mom is an excellent seamstress. She made most of my clothes growing up. She decided to venture into swimsuit making and I was the recipient of identical black and purple swimsuits. These were womanly swimsuits and if I stood still it looked like the top fit. Unfortunately, you are not always just sitting or standing still on the beach. I had to tie the top as tight as possible in order to insure that there was no slippage to avoid revealing... well, nothing.

My mother included the required extra material in the crotch of these swimsuits. However, that material was not sewn closed. This created a sort of crotch pocket. While I was romping about in the surf and having a great time, the crotch pocket was filling with sand. I felt an uncomfortable heaviness as I was exiting the waves and did a sort of plie' so I could see what was going on down there. I also did a quick look back to see that, not only did it look like I was wearing a mattress sized Kathy Rigby Stayfree maxi-pad, but... that I'd also dropped an elephant sized load.

I quickly jumped back into the water . I did not know what to do. There was no way I could walk up past all the kids from the church to get my towel and then head the mile down the beach to the restroom to dig it all out! In my distress, the waves were knocking me about and I kept getting pushed under the waves. I decided to swim out to where they weren't breaking and try to dig the sand out of the crotch pocket while I tread water. Unfortunately, there were a lot of people around and I was getting some looks. I then decided to try to dig it out under water. Of course, while I was trying to do this I was worried about salt water getting sucked up into my hooch... or a jelly fish. I finally seemed to have gotten most of the sand out but couldn't tell if the swimsuit was back as it should be. It did not feel right. I was exhausted and half drowned. People were calling my name and standing along the shore. As I swam back in I kept trying to pat around down there to make sure all was well which made it look like I didn't know how to swim or was having a seizure, or both. I emerged from the ocean and walked as quickly as I could to my towel... all the while smiling like nothing had happened.

On another trip to the beach with Skippy and her church group, she and I took the Youth Pastor's ridiculously long long surfboard out to try to ride it together. We were only familiar with boogie boarding. We were both straddling it and paddling around with our hands like fools. Soon we noticed we had drifted quite aways from the rest of the people. We started paddling for shore but kept getting pulled further out. We were caught in the riptide and had gone beyond the red flags. A couple life guards showed up in a jeep and used their bullhorn to say, "girls on the surfboard, come ashore!"

Skippy jumped off the surfboard and swam away. I slipped off and decided it would be easier for me to swim in while pushing the surfboard in front of me. I wasn't getting anywhere and started to panic. I saw Skippy get out of the water and stand next to a life guard. The other life guard swam out to me and showed me how to swim in parallel with the shore. It took a long time. Then, once I was safely on the beach, I was given a harsh talking to by the life guards... which, by the way, were not hot.

7. Skippy invited me to a church group sleepover. It turned out to be a mostly unsupervised co-ed camp out in a tent in the backyard of a church member. It was there that I was introduced to AC/DC and we listened to She Rocked Me All Night Long and Back in Black... over and over... and over again.

I was a nobody at our high school. Interestingly, at this particular camp out I was being pursued by the boy all the other girls wanted. He was a surfer and very cute. A couple of the girls were not happy about it. I was a bit confused because I thought these other girls were much prettier than I was. It was chilly for California and he insisted I sit on his lap with us wrapped up in his sleeping bag most of the evening. He kept sniffing my neck and telling me I smelled good. I was a nervous wreck.

We must have eaten some ice cream or something... I started getting these sharp pains in my belly. Until I had been married a couple of years I would only... ahem... pass gas if I was alone in my bedroom or the bathroom. This meant that I would get incredible stomach aches regularly. If it went on too long these horribly loud growling noises would start erupting forth from my very depths. There was no controlling them. There I was all snuggled up on this boys lap when it happened. It startled him and he told me to go eat something.

I was in a lot of pain. I decided to go to the bathroom. I had waited too long and couldn't fart. I tried jumping up and down, shaking my legs one at a time, and squatting. It was a no go. My belly was also beginning to bloat. I went back outside. I snuggled back up with the boy. He kissed me. My first kiss actually... and my stomach did it again. He pushed me off and told me I couldn't sit on his lap if my stomach was going to keep doing that. I wanted to die.

The family went to bed. The kids wanted to go pool hopping. That is where you sneak into people's backyards and swim in their pools. It was really cold to be doing that sort of thing and I didn't want to. Of course, I did anyway. We went next door. I really just wanted to go home. We weren't there long because a dog started barking. As I was going back over the fence I hit my hooch bone so hard that my eyes were watering. Fortunately, that was enough for some of the kids and I stayed back with them while the others went on to other pools.

8. Skippy's parents separated and her Dad got an apartment very close to our high school. She talked me into spending the night with her at her Dad's the night of a school dance. Her Dad didn't have much furniture, left to go somewhere without feeding us dinner, and we walked to the dance in the dark. It was very upsetting to me and I did not feel safe. We were outside the gym when it was announced that the dance was being cancelled due to some problem with the band's equipment. Some boys from another school had been talking to us while we waited to get in. One of them was very tall, cute and seemed to have taken a liking to me. I was focused on him so I'm not sure what happened but a riot broke out and it was apparently started by some of the kids he was with. Things got crazy and people started running. He grabbed my hand and started running too. Skippy was with another one of his friends. This boy had a very nice car although I don't remember what it was. It was sporty and dark sparkly blue. I had never been in a car with another kid driving. We drove around. He told me his Dad was Robert Wagner. He starred in a show called Hart to Hart that was pretty big right then. He told me he was a big jerk. When they dropped us off he took my face in his hands and gave me a big long kiss right on the lips. He took my phone number but I never heard from him again. I always wondered if he'd been telling me the truth so I just googled Robert Wagner. Nope. That boy lied to me.

9. Skippy wanted me to cut class with her one day. I was afraid to cut a real class so I agreed to ditch my dance class that happened to be right before lunch. We left campus through a hedge of bushes along the back of the school property. Not far from there was a little retirement community situated around a lake. It was a very pretty day and we walked out on one of the docks. There were some friendly ducks and as I was inching forward to see if they would let me touch them I suddenly found myself in the water. Skippy had pushed me off the dock. The water was very dark and murky. I was disoriented not having expected that. I somehow ended up under the floating dock and kept hitting my head as I tried to come up out of the water. Just as I was realizing that I might drown, I was plucked from the water by a big man. He directed us to a nice lady who loaned me her bathrobe and dried my clothes while we sat on lounge chairs by her pool. She even fed us. I didn't say anything to Skippy. She didn't seem to feel any remorse for what she had done.

10. That very same day... I went without a bra in public. It was the one and only time in my life. It had not quite dried all the way and we needed to get back to school. While in English class the boy in front of me turned around to pass some papers the teacher was handing out. I saw on his face that he could see down my shirt and I let him look. By this time there was actually a little somethin' to see. I immediately felt horrible and I'm still ashamed every time I think of it.

That day I decided that I could not be friends with Skippy anymore. We didn't have a dramatic friend break up... I just avoided her. I was constantly watching for her and would go the other direction. When she called I told her I couldn't do whatever she was wanting to do. I didn't tell another friend or my parents. Eventually, she stopped calling. I never was in another class with her the rest of high school. The last time I talked to her was the day we graduated and it was only briefly. She was getting married and had plans to go to school to be a dental hygienist.

And this has got to be the longest post in the history of blogs.

I don't even know who to pass this award along to! If you want to purge yourself of ten things from your past... come and get it!

Saturday, February 14, 2009

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

Sweet Angela at FREE SPIRIT HAVEN blessed me with this award! Thank you so very much! The following text comes with the award:

“These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.”

Well... seeing that I color outside the lines sometimes (but always in a pretty way, lol), I want to do this a little differently. I want to pass this along to all of you who read this blog. I don't always get to read everyone else's blogs regularly but I want you to know how much your reading mine means to me. Those of you who take the time to comment really warm my heart and, so often, make me laugh. Please take this award and let me know in the comments so I can put links to you in the body of another post so that maybe some here who haven't found their way to your blog yet can do so.

You don't have to have commented before or have a blog... or anything. I have a site meter that I look at here and there and can see where people are from that visit the blog. I'm always surprised! I can also see how many times that person has been to the blog. Even though I have no way of knowing who you are or exactly where you are, knowing that you are reading and coming back encourages me. I just want you to know I appreciate you and thank you.

I haven't shared on here lately... the SD has gotten worse. If you have SD and notice that I haven't been round your blog much lately... it is because this roller coaster ride with my voice is sometimes more than I can take. I really try to have a positive attitude... I feel like I have accepted this so many times... until the next bout of when I don't. It's been three years since my diagnosis. I struggled the two years prior to that. Having the botox work... and then having it not... going through the last two injections with the camera and knowing without doubt that they were, in fact, injected into the correct place... My family cannot understand me on the phone. Sometimes, at night, I type what I want to say on my laptop and then pass it to Mr. Macchiato. I am so grateful I can whisper but am afraid that will be lost too. I've often joked that I'm just going to become a mute. In many ways, especially in public, that is becoming a reality.

I don't know that anyone can really understand. When people I know lose their voice temporarily due to illness or laryngitis I get an e-mail or a phone call. They tell me that it made them think of me and that they didn't realize how hard it is. I heard a singer on the radio a couple months ago who lost his voice for three months... he went on a bit about how horrible it was. Those two years I struggled before my diagnosis it didn't bother me the way it did after the diagnosis because, in my mind, it was just a matter of time before we found out what was wrong and fixed it. These past three years, while frustrating, I had some hope (albeit very little at times, but still some) that the botox would work again. Throughout all these years I've prayed off and on for a miracle. Now... I have no hope. I suppose God could heal me but... honestly, I rarely even pray for that anymore.

I know I've said on here before that I was very anti-computer. I didn't even like e-mail. I'm more of a people person and it just seemed... lazy. The time suck it can be still bothers me. At the same time... I'd be lost without it now. Having this outlet has really helped me. I will have had this blog one year next month. Hard to believe. I'm so grateful for all y'all that stop by here. It makes me feel less invisible and like I can still reach out.

Oh Good Lord. I'm all mushy and emotional now. I don't know if today will be a special day for you... if you celebrate Valentine's Day, if you have a special someone in your life, or if you will feel let down or be disappointed today... Sometimes holidays like this suck. I pray that you will know that I appreciate the time you take here and I pray that the love of God will make this day better for you.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Words from the Wise

At the ripe old age of 42 I've learned a lot of valuable lessons. Being the type of person that I am I like to share these little tid bits, nuggets if you will, from time to time. I'm all about helping others along their own journeys...

1. You can get away with wearing undies that are a tad too tight if your pants are a tad loose. You cannot, however, get away with wearing undies that are a tad too big with pants that are a tad too tight.

2. It is always best to remove brownies from the pan. That way it will not be evident to anyone just how much of them you have eaten throughout the course of the day.

3. If you have slacked in your duties as housewife... by, I don't know, spending too much time on your laptop... you can quickly refresh your house by running through and making sure all the glass is clean and throwing a splash of pine-sol into the showers. Lighting a couple candles is good too. Men never can tell if anything has actually been cleaned or not. Unless you are my brother Buck. He's picky.

That's all for now. I have to be careful not to overwhelm y'all.

Tomorrow Chai Tea is turning 20. Yes, on Valentine's Day. Pretty cool day to have your first baby on if you ask me! Today is my brother Trevor's 35th birthday. WOW! I changed some of that boy's diapers! Lord have mercy!

Oh!

4. When you don't really have time to blog but want to throw something out there so those great people that stop by aren't met with the same post from the day before... put up something dumb like this. It may... or may not be... better than nothin'.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Just a Quick Little Rant

Les Miserables... Double Shot is in the 10th grade and they are reading this in his english class. Double Shot does not like to read. He likes to be outside running, throwing balls, and getting sweaty and smelly.

He's been in big trouble over his grades and we took away his cell phone, have not been letting him drive, have not been allowing him to go to football conditioning or pre-season baseball practices, rarely allow computer time and I've been e-mailing and have met with many of his teachers.

The only way I can determine if he's doing the reading in his english class is to do the reading also. I bought the same copy the school is using. Double Shot complains that he can't focus when reading. I cannot read aloud due to the SD... but, I can whisper read. So, we've been cuddling up on the couch and taking turns reading the book to each other. Les Miserables is a HUGE book. You'd think it would be the only book for the semester... uh, no. They just finished Shakespeare's, A Midsummer Nights Dream and will be moving on to The Red Badge of Courage, Lord of the Flies, and The Crucible before the end of the semester. How can they do this? Well, they are skipping sections of the book. This is about to drive me insane. Unfortunately, Double Shot is like me in that it is very difficult to jump past parts and be aware that where you are at is referencing the part you didn't read. They have way too much reading for Double shot to read the parts they are not covering in class (He's also in an AP European History class he has to read for... and is in Chemistry this semester... OY!). So, I am trying to read those parts so I can fill him in quickly so he's not so frustrated.

Did I also tell you that the book was originally written in French? That means that the names of people and places are in French. How the heck do you pronounce that stuff??? We've started coming up with ridiculous coping strategies called grunting in a French accent when we have no idea how to say the word.

All that to say... I don't have much time to blog. Really, if I were seriously attending to my duties as a housewife and mom... I wouldn't have any time at all. Eight loads of laundry in the cue... yes, 8. There are only three of us here for Pete's sake! The bathrooms? Don't ask. The office? I don't even go in there anymore. You can't even see the top of my desk. My room is looking spiffy though.

Anyway, el laptoppo is being shut down for the day. I get on here and tell myself I'm just going to check the news... before I know it my belly is growling and I look at the time to discover that hours have gone by. Seriously, I forget to eat. That. is. AmAzInG. Unfortunately, I make up for it when I remember.

You know... I didn't realize how much the girls did when they were home. I could call them and have them run everything up and down the stairs (we have four levels...UGH!). That in and of itself is HUGE. When I went grocery shopping I had people to tote it in and put it away. Our deep freeze is in the basement. I could tell others to put all the folded laundry away... shoot, I could tell them to do the laundry, fold it AND put it away. Dishes... bathrooms... floors... Now, it is just me. Mr. Macchiato and Double Shot are gone all day. IT IS A LOT OF WORK!!! And... it. never. ends.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Colonoscopy and Abba

My mother-in-law sent me the following:

This is from newshound Dave Barry's colonoscopy journal:

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis.

Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies .

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the moviPrep.

You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose, watery bowel movement may result.' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' had to be the least appropriate.

'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, ABBA was yelling 'Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine,' and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that It was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

ABOUT THE WRITER: Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald. On the subject of Colonoscopies... Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments during the exam were quite humorous..... A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he was performing their colonoscopies:

1. 'Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no man has gone before .

2. 'Find Amelia Earhart yet?'

3. 'Can you hear me NOW?'

4. 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?'

5. 'You know, in Arkansas , we're now legally married.'

6. 'Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?'

7. 'You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out...'

8. 'Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!'

9. 'If your hand doesn't fit, you must quit!

10. 'Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.'

11. 'You used to be an executive at Enron, didn't you?'

12. 'God, now I know why I am not gay.' And the best one of all.

13. 'Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?'

Another blogger, Flea, recently went through a colonoscopy... and incidentally, is taking a little blog break. Connected? Maybe. I commented that I knew what she'd been through and she e-mailed me back.

Without going into great detail... The guy above called the prep a 'nuclear laxative.' Uh... yeah. I couldn't even keep that stuff down and after rolling around on my bed... moaning and near crying just to keep it down... I jumped up just as Frappy was walking into my room and violently projectile vomited throughout my room. She still hasn't forgiven me for witnessing it. Rather than help me... she ran away.

Mr. Macchiato was working late so he could take me to the appointment in the morning. I cleaned the carpet with our bissel while shaking, sweating and trying not to crap my pants. How that stuff worked even though I hadn't even kept it down... I don't know.

The prep was, by far, the worst part. However, my doctor happened to be very good looking and close to my age. So not right! As if it all wasn't bad enough! And... this guy liked to talk to me. When he learned that we had lived in Mississippi he had all sorts of questions for me. He was somewhat of a Civil War buff... as is my husband and therefore, by osmosis, me. You know, when someone is taking a peek up your poo hole with a camera... you really don't want them to be good looking or to talk to you... about anything.

My mother-in-law not only sent this to me because it is a poo story... and I like a good poo story... but, because in the story they played, 'Dancing Queen,' by Abba. While my husband grew up listening to The Rolling Stones and Led Zepplin, I was growing up listening to Abba and Barry Manilow. I am a true Abba fan and have always listened to them. They are on of my preferred music of choice list while cleaning... after Neil Diamond, of course. My parents had it all. Our little Super Trooper cassette would play on a loop in the car and there would be a long break between the end and the beginning. We all jumped when they came back on singing, Soooooooper Troooooper. Every. Time. Years and years ago, Mr. Macchiato bought me the Abba Gold CD. He has always made fun of me for the music my parents listened to. Our kids... know the words to all the songs and have since they were little.

Well, as y'all must be aware, this summer the movie, 'Mama Mia,' came out. It was originally a play that was put together using all Abba songs. When my mother-in-law was visiting she took the girls and I to see it. They all loved it. In fact, my mother-in-law sang along... in a jam packed theater... while I stared straight ahead.

I did not like it. Not at all. I am still suffering from the horror of watching Pierce Brosnan's face as he sang... *shudder* And... well, the story of a girl finding her mother's diary and learning that her father could have been one of three men and then inviting them all to her wedding... well, I didn't like that. Not at all. There was just too much... nastiness in it for my taste.

At the end of the movie, as the credits rolled, my mother-in-law shimmied and shook in her seat as she sang her little heart out. My girls ran away laughing. Leaving me there. She was lost in enjoying the moment. I, again, sat staring straight ahead. There were some furtive glances at the passersby here and there. My mother-in-law was causing some laughter and smiles as everyone else exited the theater. I sat there with her until. the. very. end. At which time she sighed deeply and exclaimed how much she loved it.

Even though I didn't care for the movie and am very reserved in public (at home is a whole nother thing) it is another memory of my mother-in-law that has made it into my list of memories that makes me laugh... The girls were quite tickled with themselves and their ditching of me but, you know what? They missed out. You keep singing Sara. Maybe, someday, I will learn to loosen up a little in public. Maybe. Uhhhh... Probably not though.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Just That Kind of Day

I just ate a bowl of ice cream. On top of a sliced banana. Before that I ate some homemade beef stroganoff over egg noodles. Yes, homemade. Yes, with butter and sour cream. It was tasty. As was the ice cream. What? Did I take any lactaid? Why, no... I did not. That means that within an hour or so, if I'm lucky, I will be paying. In fact, my tummy is doing a little gurgling as I type this... Even though I am completely capable of regaling you with the down and dirty details of my dairy woes, I will not. You are most welcome.

Why would I put myself through such torment for a few brief moments of taste bud titillation? Well, I'm stupid for one. Yes, it is true. I mean, why oh why would someone eat something that they know is going to cause them pain? (BECAUSE IT TASTES YUMMY!). And why would someone eat something that along with making them feel horrible, will also increase the breadth of their already barn sized behind? (BECAUSE THEY ARE SICK OF SALAD!). And why would someone even have those types of food in their house? (BECAUSE THEIR ROTTEN SON ONLY HAS 6.1% BODY FAT AND LOSES 5 lbs IF HE SKIPS ONE MEAL!). WHY? (BECAUSE THEY HAD A CRUMMY DAY FIGHTING WITH A 16 year old WHO WOULD NOT CLEAN HIS HORRIBLE ROTTEN TERRORIST OF A BIRD CAGE! AND WON'T DO HIS HOMEWORK).

Well, and because I suck. I told my son he ruins every single morning and every single evening and that I want to run away and that he is rotten and doesn't appreciate anything we do or have done for him. Because that is the kind of good mom I am.

So. I ate dairy. I will pay. I will pay dearly.

Uh... and we just caught the end of Mike Huckabee's show on Fox and WHAT THE HECK??? He's got what looks like a mother and daughter singing John Denver's, Leaving on a Jet Plane... in opera style!!! You should see the faces they're making... I seriously feel like howling at the moon! Double Shot just caught it and is making me laugh... That. was. bad. Dang.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Got Kohls???

I hate shopping. I really do. However, at times, it is a necessary evil in my life.

Mr. Macchiato is in dire need of new work clothes. He works on the financial end of construction and when we lived on the West Coast he was required to wear suits every day. When we lived in Mississippi he wore short sleeve knit shirts and dockers. Here he wears button down shirts and dress pants. I like to buy his clothes this time of year at Kohls. If you don't have one in your area... I'm sorry.

Today and tomorrow (Friday/Saturday) you get $10 store credit for every $50 you spend that you can use next week. This also happens to be when they are trying to clear the store out of all their fall/winter merchandise so that they can bring in the spring/summer stuff. Men's dress shirts that normally run $40-$50 are marked down to $8-$15. I'm not joking. There are racks and racks of clearance items in each department and the mark downs are from 60% to 90%. If anyone in your family is in need of some clothes this is the time to go!

I bought 11 dress shirts, 5 pairs of pants, a sweater, two long sleeve knit shirts, 6 pairs of dress socks, a candle, and two fancy candle holders for $330 which gave me a $60 credit for next week. I hate shopping but I hate shopping with my boys even more, so I bought a lot and they will pick from what I got what they want to keep. Kohls has no restriction on returning clearance merchandise. Double Shot has already gone through his pile and I have two pairs of pants and a shirt to return for him. Of course, depending on how much I take back, my credit for next week (they call it Kohls Cash) will be adjusted.

Just thought I'd throw that out there!

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Anita Renfroe is Coming to Town!!!



Last year a dear friend treated me to a night of Anita Renfroe. Anita is the fundraiser entertainment for our local crisis pregnancy center. This year I am treating another dear friend who is unfamiliar with Anita. It is going to be FUN!!!

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

hApPy BiRtHdAy Rick!!!

Today is my favorite cartoonist's bIrThDaY!!!
He's 52 years OLD!!!









His doodles warm my heart!!!



His doodles encourage me!

AND his doodles make me smile!
Tell him Coffee Bean sent ya!

Monday, February 2, 2009

Slugging it out...

Lu Lu is doing much better. I went ahead and took her to the vet to have some blood work done... Although, $145 later we don't really know much more other than the kidney disease has advanced since the last time it was checked. She has not been peeing in her crate the last couple of days and isn't getting us up as often at night. She is sleeping more and not as tolerant of Benny... I think she's got some more time. We are putting her in a diaper when she is out and about in the house.

I did not accomplish all I wanted to last week. Double Shot had a lung check last Tuesday and it was not good. He'd been coughing some a couple days before. Well, he ended up missing school Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. It's been a couple years since he's been that sick. We just happened to catch it right as it was getting started. He had to go back on the nebulizer and there were some really rough nights. Normally, when he gets that sick it takes a good month or so for him to fully recover. He's still coughing but well on his way.

I have been going through closets, drawers and cupboards. It is slow going... I have never in my life lived in one house as long as we've lived in this one (six years). When you move every 3 years or so, you tend to go through everything and have a fresh start. We did pack everything up 18 months ago when we did the remodel but we still have a storage unit packed with stuff. The office closet is only partially organized and I've got too much stuff crammed into the storage area of the basement. We've got so many unfinished projects too... I just want to get everything in order and deep cleaned. I found two laundry baskets under my bed that were full of old magazines and miscellaneous papers that I shoved under there months ago... like back in MAY when my family came for the girls' graduation. I also haven't filed our papers in a year. They are in a file box... in a pile. And our pictures... I'm starting to hyperventilate...

Mr. Macchiato woke me up at 11 pm last night to tell me he smelled gas. For the entire time we've been married he has done this 3 or 4 times a year. Sometimes it is gas... sometimes it is electrical burning. He'll sit up in bed and start sniffing and then go around the house smelling outlets, walls, the air... even walk outside. He freaks out. I usually follow him around while rolling my eyes. Well... I also smelled gas. He called the utility company and they told us not to turn anything on or off or run any hot water until they got someone out here. It was weird because it didn't have the rotten egg smell... it smelled more like gasoline. Mr. Macchiato opened the door to the garage and we were hit with the source of the smell. The gas tank to the lawn mower ruptured for no reason. It hasn't been used in months. The guy that came out thoroughly checked out the house and told us that that sometimes happens with lawn mowers. The house still stinks this morning.

When we finally crawled into bed our neighbor's basset hound was barking. That dog... UGH!!! These are the only neighbors I don't like. They called animal control on our next door neighbor's dog a couple years ago when we were dog sitting for them because they said he had no food or water. I told them the dog could get into the garage through a dog door on the side of the house and had food and water in there. The dog was very upset that his owners left... These people often dog sit and I think they have 3 of their own. I sometimes get people at my door trying to determine where the barking is coming from thinking it is here. Last night I wanted to go beat their door down and give them a piece of my mind.

I don't know how long it is going to take me to finish getting this house organized and really clean. I've got a four page list I'm working through. I decided not to have a goal time wise because it just makes me unhappy with the progress I do make. I'm just going to keep ticking things off the list and make maintaining what I've accomplished the number one priority. There is nothing worse than having stuff get undone before finishing. My ultimate goal is to get rid of that storage unit.