The Stuff That Dribbles From My Brain

I Heart My Crockpot

2012-01-04T11:14:00.000-08:00

I could sit for days, ok weeks or months, surfing the net and reading the blogs of women much more crafty and Betty Crocker-y than myself. They make all they're children's clothing, throw lavish 1st birthday parties with handmade decorations and favors and chair coverings, bake like nobody's business and still seem to have time to fit in professional photography and writing their blog. I, am not these women.

Yes, I like to sew. Yes, I like to make stuff. Realistically, if I could get paid for just sitting around and crafting on my own time schedule, I'd be seriously blissed out. But baking and cooking are not my thing. I'm good at it; I just don't necessarily enjoy it. That's a problem when the cook in the family (my husband) has to take a work schedule that has him working until 8 or 9 in the evening. Personally, I'd be willing to snack while I wait for him to come home and cook but the children are not. So, about a year or so ago, I became the cook in the household after over 15 years. It hasn't always been pretty. I admit to cereal nights on a more than rare occasion.

Anyway, the man is back to working a mostly regular schedule but the strangest thing has happened... he has ceased with the nightly cooking and it seems to have fallen on my shoulders. I, admittedly, would be happy eating the same 5-8 meals that I really like. The rest of the family would not. So, I try to come up with new stuff but it's really rather difficult because, generally, if I think it sounds good, at least half of the house doesn't. AND, I have no desire to stand over a stove for 3 hours making the perfect meal. I'm not one of those people that loves the people around them by cooking and feeding them. That's why I craft (read, you should feel loved when I give you a crocheted cozy for your cell phone/laptop/tv remote).

Anyway, to the point... I have a crockpot. I love my crockpot for the simple reason that I can put food in it, turn it on low, and craft for 6 hours (I wish) and then have a completed dinner. It all feels like I'm working some voodoo magic and that makes me giggle inside. So, today, I'm trying something new. Lasagna in the crockpot. Who knew? Seems so simple, I'm not sure why I didn't think of it before. It takes a bit more prep work but, really, if this turns out, I'm going to be over the moon. So far, it looks pretty tasty, so I'm sharing the recipe with you here. I've left it pretty vague because you can customize it as you wish. Who am I to judge if you like onions in your lasagna anyway?

Crockpot Lasagna

1 - 67 oz jar of spaghetti sauce (I use Prego Traditional)
1.25 pounds of meat (optional; I use ground turkey)
1 - 32 oz tub of ricotta cheese (you can substitute cottage cheese for a lower fat version)
2 cups grated cheese (mozarella or an italian blend)
1 box lasagna noodles

Brown the meat and then add sauce; mix thoroughly
In crockpot, layer as follows:
meat sauce
uncooked lasagna noodles (you can break them up so they fit properly)
ricotta cheese
grated cheese

Repeat layers two more times, top with a layer of meat sauce
Put the lid on your crockpot and rn on low.
Now you just let it sit for approximately 6 hours (don't try to speed it up and go for 3 hours on high; this is a slow cook type of dish). While you wait, go knit a blanket, make jewelry out of bottle caps, weave a rug, decoupage your breadbox and braid your daughter's hair with an eight strand braiding method.
When all that's done, enjoy!

PS. the pic is of a perfect piece of lasagna that I found on the internet because mine is still cooking and I have a rug to weave.

Yes, Virginia, You Should Say Happy Holidays

2011-12-21T13:12:00.000-08:00

So, it's the end of December and all month, all around the country/world, people have been preparing for __________ (insert celebration here). If you're like the majority of Americans, you have inserted Christmas in the blank. There are countless views regarding this particular holiday. For some, it's merely a holiday associated with gift giving and consumerism. For others, it is a time of deeper religious meaning; that religion being, of course, Christianity. And, for the rest, it is somewhere in between.

Now, because we live in a digitally social world, I am, like many others, on Facebook nearly everyday. I have a large group of 'friends'; hundreds actually. So, when one has hundreds of friends that are updating their statuses on a daily/weekly/monthly basis, one also is witness to the beautiful cross section of personalities, lifestyles and beliefs that are represented among those hundreds. As a side note, when I say beautiful, I do mean beautiful. Cultural diversity really is a lovely thing. It's no surprise, though, that the strongest opinions ever expressed come in the forms of political and religious beliefs.

And, that brings me to the point of the blog. Well, maybe not the point but the subject at least. Lately I've seen a lot of status updates that read something akin to "It's Merry Christmas NOT Happy Holidays." Having spent years living and existing as part of the (Christian) religious right, I understand the sentiment. I don't begrudge anyone saying it. It's a free country after all. And, if you are reading this and you are one of those friends that posted a similar status update, let me preface the rest of this blog with this - I do respect your beliefs. I do respect what Christmas symbolizes to practicing Christians. I do not wish to offend anyone. I only want to express my own thoughts and ask that you listen with an open mind.

With that said, let's begin!

When I first saw this type of status update, I took it for what it was, an expression of religious belief. The second time, I thought about the actual message the post-ers were trying to convey. The third time I pondered the impression it gave to the universe at large. And, by the fourth plus time, it honestly irked me a bit.

The US is a predominantly Christian nation. Nonetheless, it remains one of the most religiously diverse nations on the planet. Even before the pilgrims came, there was religious diversity. And, with their coming, the end to a search for a place to practice their religious beliefs freely, came even further diversity. So, duh, over multiple years of immigration, the US has become home to a myriad of religious beliefs. And, each person that represents a different belief, got here, either on their own or by way of a far off relative, because freedom of some kind was being sought. You would think, then, that we would be a nation of tolerance. A nation of understanding. A nation that understood that being able to practice a religion, a lifestyle, an occupation, etc. of one's choosing was a privilege and that, if one wants that privilege to be respected, one must respect it in others as well. Somehow, as a nation, we've forgotten that, though.

That's what irked me. Because the impression that those status updates began to give me, whether intended or not, is this... My religious beliefs are the only true beliefs and thus are superior to yours, and, therefore, you and yours do not deserve my respect (btw, I haven't met a 'religious' person yet who doesn't believe that first part regardless of what their religious beliefs are). Now, if you call yourself a Christian, does that sound very Christ-like? Does this fall in line with the teachings of a man who we are told accepted and loved the unacceptable and unloveable? Yes, we are told that Christ spoke his beliefs plainly, but He didn't do so in a way that alienated people from Him. If I'm to believe what I was taught to me in the church, He met people where they were at; didn't condem them and then expect them to eagerly accept an invitation to follow Him.

So, now we're at the point of my blog, which is, if you're concerned about whether the school your child goes to holds a winter celebration or a Christmas pageant, then you should send your child to a school that fits your beliefs. If you balk at the idea of not having a Nativity scene in the town square, you might want to think about moving to a religious compound. You get the idea. We are a nation, a state, a city, a neighborhood of many beliefs. Some celebrate Christmas. Some celebrate Kwanzaa. Some will light a menorrah. Some will have a family feast, decorate ornaments, hang mistletoe, put lights on the house, hang a wreath and light a yule log. Think I'm talking about Christmas with that last observation? I'm not. Those are traditional ways to celebrate winter solstice. You know, the holiday that Pagans and Wiccans celebrate. Have you feeling a little conflicted about your own decor now?

Whatever you do, though, consider this... Consider saying Happy Holidays now and then. Consider really meaning it. Consider that, when doing so, you are showing a deep respect for those around you that may subscribe to a different set of beliefs. Consider that, when asking WWJD?, the answer just might be to ask you to consider saying it, too.

Divorce After 72 Days - A Love Story

2011-11-01T09:21:00.000-07:00

The Kardashian clan has never been one that I have found particularly interesting. I don't understand why they are important or why anyone really gives a crap about them. OK, their matriarch married Bruce Jenner. He was cool in the 70's. But, have you seen him now that those women have gotten a hold of him? Good Lord, what a plastic surgery nightmare!

And, as to the question of their fame, many people will state that they are famous because they are businesswomen and socialites; models and actresses. Well, I'm not so sure about the actress part (check out any film credits they have prior to 2009. Even then, I don't think playing yourself gives you the right to call yourself an actress), and I'm sure they all did some modeling but here's the real scoop. None of the girls in this family ever got any real celeb face time until Kim's sex tape was "leaked" in 2007. So, really, they are famous because their sister got busy with a celeb and the world saw her naked. Bravo! Master Thespian!! (and she was 27 when this happened so she really was old enough to have known better... unless she wanted it leaked so her name would be in all the news... hmmm)

So, anyway, I'm not necessarily one for celebrity gossip (especially when it comes to the K clan), but this got me this morning. I saw that Kim Kardashian has filed for divorce from her husband. Not that filing for divorce is some huge news, but her excuse blew my mind. She says that she's filed because he "wasn't who she thought." Really? Let's backtrack a bit and look at a timeline (courtesy of MTV's website)...

October 31, 2010: Kim is spotted sitting courtside at Kris Humphries' basketball game. This is the day they reportedly meet for the first time.
January 1, 2011: Kim tweets a photo of a young Kris with the message "I want my son to look like this!"(now, in the real world, if a girl did this within 2 months of knowing a guy, she would be labeled a psycho and dropped like a hot potato)
January 23, 2011: Kim tells MTV News that she's still very much single. "I never have been single in my life," she said. "So [after] getting married as a teenager and then getting into a relationship, each lasting like four years, after that, something inside of me, I just felt like I wanted to be single." (umm... I have no words for how weird this is)
May 18, 2011: Just shy of seven months after meeting, they get engaged after he slipped a 20.5-carat, $2 million ring on her finger. "I didn't expect this at all," Kardashian said of the proposal, which included Humphries writing out "Will You Marry Me?" in rose petals in her bedroom. "I was in such shock. I never thought it would happen at home, and I never thought now."(really? Even though you've been dreaming about what your babies would look like for over 4 months now?)
June 8, 2011: Kim's family was just as shocked as the rest of us about the upcoming wedding. Her sister Khloe even says, "We didn't even know if it was a joke."(that's because one would think it was since they'd only known each other 7 months)
August 20, 2011: The two marry in a $20 million shindig that they paid nothing toward ($20 MILLION. They paid NOTHING. Even better than the wedding's price tag, they reportedly MADE money on the whole affair. How much? Choke on this... $17.9 MILLION).
October 31, 2011: 72 days after they said "I do," these two are now saying "Not so much." (72 days. Wow. Granted, it's a lifetime compared to Britney Spears' 55 hour marriage but, seriously, 72 DAYS?)

OK, back to reality. The real reality. He wasn't who she thought? You mean, when you agreed to marry him less than 7 months after you met him, you thought you knew everything about him? Why does her divorce come as a surprise to her or anyone else? Were there really people, Kim and Kris included, that thought that this was going to work? Ever? The ugly stuff in a relationship usually doesn't happen during the first 6-9 months. I mean, it generally takes a year before all the really annoying stuff starts to surface and you know if you can deal with it or not. If you can, congratulations, your relationship has a better than average chance of lasting another year. Even then, you may need to hang on for awhile before you really know if this person is a keeper and that you are one to them. My favorite in the time line is this future event, though...

November 27, 2011: Even though they are no longer together, Kris and Kim's marriage will be documented on the second season of "Kourtney & Kim Take New York," which kicks off November 27. In previews for the show, fans have gotten a peek at the short-lived marriage. "How am I going to have my career and live in Minnesota?" Kim asks Kris when he suggests they move to his hometown. His response? "Baby, by the time you have kids and they're in school, nobody will probably care about you."

LOVE that he says that to her!! I guess this shows where her priorities lie, though. Husband, kids, home? Nope. Career. I'm not bashing a woman's right to her career but, really, one would think that she could run her store from about anywhere. I seriously doubt they're counting on her to run the cash register each day. And, couldn't those women in Minnesota benefit from a Kardashian boutique in Cheeseland?

In any case, let Kim be a role model for all those young ladies out there who, two months (or less) after meeting a guy, begin morphing their photo with that of their dream man to see what their babies will look like. While a sex tape with a celeb may make you famous, rushing into a relationship or marriage will almost certainly end in disaster. And, even if you did make $17.9 million off the wedding alone, no amount of money can fix stupid.

My Toilet Paper Confuses Me

2011-10-13T10:41:00.000-07:00

This blog was originally posted back in 2007. Almost 4 years ago to the day exactly actually. Odd that it came up again in my head. I must be on a 4 year cycle. That didn't sound right.

Anyway, here it is again. My new thoughts appear afterward.

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Well, if you read my blogs and you enjoy my occasional rants about life on planet Earth, you've probably wondered why I haven't written about this sooner. Mind you, it's been on my mind daily...multiple times a day in fact. Yes, everytime I hit the can (that didn't sound very lady-like, did it? Honestly, there's not much about going to the bathroom that IS lady-like so why pretend?) I am faced with a burning sensatio...I mean, question. bah ha ha ha ha I crack myself up. Get it? Crack? Oh, geez, I think my morning coffee has finally kicked in.

OK, let's get serious here. I'm talking about my toilet paper. Excuse me, bathroom tissue. Who the hell calls it that anyway? Is there someone out there that has a patent on the term Toilet Paper like the Kleenex people that can only call their product kleenex despite the free world calling any other piece of "facial tissue" that? Whatever. Bathroom tissue. That sounds so ridiculous. Anyway, I'm pretty particular about my toi-...uh...bathroom tissue. Almost to the point of being snobby about it. Ridiculous, you say? Not really. I mean, I use the stuff multiple times a day. Any real person should be a snob about something they use that many times a day, right? Especially on their hiny. Like, if you put a lotion on your bits and pieces five times a day and it was kind of gritty, would you really want that or would you look for a lotion that felt good. Not so much of crazy lady now, am I?

Anyway, I'm a 2-ply girl. Always have been. There's nothing worse than having to use 1-ply. Or, shudder, one of those toilet seat covers in the bathroom at your favorite club that is THE spot to hang out at but only has one, ONE, stall in the women's room and it is ALWAYS out of the dreaded economy 1-ply that they put in there. At least it's better than those brown paper towels. But, yeah, 1-ply. I just don't get it. If I can SEE through my toilet paper, umm bath tissue, then I can't imagine how a few squares of it is going to get the job done. Sure, it's cheaper but, when you have to use twice as much of it just so that you don't feel the need to pull on a pair of surgical gloves everytime you enter the john, are you really saving any money? I think not.

So, in case your mind has become cluttered with my ramblings thus far, here's where we are...I like 2-ply. Oh, I'm such a girl. Just used something like a thousand words to express what I could have in 3 words. Aaaaanyway, I also buy my rolls in bulk. I do big grocery shopping once every 6-8 weeks so I buy the giganto pack at Costco and I buy the good 2-ply there, which happens to be Charmin. And, yes, you actually DO save money buying it there vs buying several smaller packs at Winco. Ask me how I know! So, I've been buying the monster humongo pack for years now and I love it. I love running out of tp in the bathroom and knowing that there are 18 more rolls in the garage. It's such a better feeling than looking around for what you might be able to substitute for tp when you run out and have no more in the house. And, the inevitable questioning that runs through your mind of, "If I tear up the paper towels into smaller pieces, would it still clog my toilet?"

So, where are we now? Charmin 2-ply. Moving on, Charmin currently uses these cute animated bears as their spokes...people. Personally, I like them. They're awfully cute. Better looking than Mr. Whipple that's for sure. Not that I didn't like him but the bears really are better looking and more cuddly. And, that's important when you're choosing something to wipe your butt with, right? Umm...right? Anyway, the bears are cute and I like that and it makes me a little more jovial when I'm balancing 24 mega rolls on my overflowing cart in Costco. Recently, though, there's been a change in product line and ad campaign that has left me distressed. They have recently come out with the Ultra Strong line of bath tissue and it frightens and confuses me.

First of all, the cute little bear is now red. That disturbs me. Why red? No matter how gentle the face looks on that bear, I'm just reminded of something hot and evil and burning. NOT the mental picture I'd like to associate with my tp. Why not something like lavender or moss green? Not a real color of a bear, you say? Well, flaming red isn't either. OK, maybe red because it is supposed to represent something firm? I still don't get it. Red still represents burning to me and I've always been told that was something that should worry me if I experienced it when I peed. Why not gray? Reminds me of slate, rocks, concrete. Still not something I'd like to wipe with but it's firm and a real color of wildnerness creatures. And, while they're at it, please change my bear, now in blue to represent the Ultra Soft line, back to brown, please. Because blue is not a real color of a bear and brown is more natural and the most universally accepted color to represent toilet paper...???

So, my real issue, though, is how do I know if I qualify as someone who needs firm toilet paper? Why did they even decide they needed firm tp? Were there throngs of people calling the Charmin execs with this need? I don't even "get" firm toilet paper. Now, this isn't a topic that I generally quiz my friends on but I've never ever heard of anyone that has complained about the lack of availability of firm bath tissue. So, once again, I am brought to the question of, What are the qualifying factors?

As in many of my quests for truth and knowledge, I went straight to the internet...because, of course, we all know that there are never any lies perpetuated there. I googled "firm toilet paper". Nothing. I remembered my mistake at that point and corrected my search terms to read "firm bath tissue". Still nothing. So, I went to the source. charmin.com I was immediately greeted by the red and blue bears. Fire and ice. It's like a giant bear hemorrhoid. The site has nice little PR blurbs about each of its kinds of tp. And, here's what I learned...

I can choose if I need "a little more strength" or "a little more softness"
The ultra-firm tp uses a "Diamond Weave texture to create a bath tissue that helps get your family clean by leaving fewer pieces behind"
The ultra-soft formula is "the softest and most absorbent...to provide your family with a comforting touch"

My response is...

I still don't know what qualifies me for either
Again, never knew there were people out there that had such a problem with bits of tissue being left all over the place
It gives me a funny feeling now that I know the Charmin people are wanting to touch me in a comforting way

So, finding no real answers, I went to the FAQ's expecting to find some answers. I now know what to do if my plies aren't lined up correctly, whether or not I can flush the disposable wipes they make, that I shouldn't clean the plastic lenses of my glasses with bath tissue since it's made from paper and paper is made from wood (so, not good for plastic lenses but OK for my tender parts? There is more to question here.), and that it is up to my household to battle it out as to which is the correct way to hang the toilet paper. Was there a chart or anything like that to let me know if I was a candidate for firm or soft tp, though? NO!

So, here I am, left with more questions than I started with. My initial thought is to stick with the blue bear. The red bear frightens me for one thing. I don't know that I trust the Diamond Weave texture. Aren't diamonds supposed to be the hardest substance on earth? Yeah, like that sounds comfortable to wipe with. Might as well just pass over the extra coarse grit sandpaper already attached to the finishing sander. The blue bear, though, doesn't provide me with an image of comfort, either. He looks cold, icy cold, and reminds me of a slab of fat, furry ice. Wet and slick and cold. Not what I'm looking for in a tissue. Worse yet, what if you get stuck to it like the kid who licks the flag pole? Removal of it usually involves at least a few layers of skin. No thank you.

Oh, the life questions I wrestle with from day to day. When will it all end? I'm contemplating cotton balls. Upside = soft and fluffy. Downside = way too small and linty. Maybe a chinchilla?

Oh, and by the by, the Charmin site calls it TOILET PAPER in their site title!!

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So, fast forward four years. I no longer have a membership to Costco, so I just mooch off my mom's membership. Whenever I'm there, though, I feel more pressed to purchase the items I can't find at a regular store than I am to buy toilet pa-... bathroom tissue. I am, nonetheless, still fanatical about my choice.

On a complete side note, a question has occurred to me over the years. Why bears? Is it because of the age old question Do bears s!*t in the woods? I mean, if the question was Do goats crap in the barnyard? would there be goats on the packaging? I digress. Again.

While on a recent shopping trip, coupons in hand, I marched to the paper goods aisle and weighed my options. I could use the coupon on a 12 or 16 roll pack. Obviously, I wanted the 16 roll. It's cheaper in the first place PLUS I would get to use my coupon. I was devasted to learn that my beloved blue bear tissue was only available in a 12 pack. The thought ocurred to me - blue = cold = ice = ice cube trays = 14 cubes to a tray = why don't they offer my rolls in a 14 pack? Yes, my mind really works that way. In any case, the newer Charmin Basic was offered in a 16 pack. The bear is brown. That appealed to me. It seemed so real; so normal; so natural. That thinking alone should have clued me in immediately that it wasn't a good choice. But, the giddiness of a 16 pack overwhelmed me, and I bought two packages 'cause my coupon would cover it. What a deal!!

Reality struck about a week later. Actually, the reality of some boy in my house (husband included) using all but the last square on the roll and then just leaving it there for an unsuspecting mother to find hit first. The next reality was that our inside-the-house stash is located several feet from the throne. The third was that whoever had put that roll on in the first place neglected to notice that it was the last roll in the house and did not replenish the stash. Gaaawwwdddd!!!!

Anyway, when I finally got around to using my brown bear tissue, I knew immediately that something was amiss. The item a-missing was my second ply!! I've used leaves in the forest with more coverage than this stuff! In my gleeful dance to the checkout line, I had completely missed the fact that this Basic version was 1-ply! Gads, it's been centuries since I've made a mistake like this! And, now I have 36 rolls of it. THIR-TY-SIX!!

Looking at the package, one would think this tissue is the bomb. It claims it "holds up." Holds up to what? An eyedropper? That's about it. Don't ask. Actually, on their website there's a video to prove that it holds up... to a gumball. A gumball? What the hell? Is this the litmus test for bath tissue?

It also says that it has "Duraflex texture." What's that supposed to be? Umm... there's a flower pattern on the squares. Is that it? The website doesn't even address the issue of what it is. Sounds like a government cover up. Duraflex makes me think that maybe it's a more eco-friendly option than a rubber band. Duraflex makes me think that I might be able to tow a car with it. Not so on either account. Don't ask. The only thing that's flexible about this version is that you can moosh it up into a ball like any other product of its kind. Of course, it takes about 14 squares to equal the same size wad as my blue bear tissue. Geez, I wonder if the red bear version only requires 2 squares. I smell a comparison test in the making. No pun intended.

Anyway, I'm down to 31 rolls at this point and have decided there's nothing "Basic" about my need for a good bathroom tissue. The brown bear has no place in my bathroom. The first chance I get, I'm replacing him with my blue bear. Actually, I may try their new "Sensitive" tissue. It says it has lotion in it to pamper my skin. Oddly enough, there's no video on the site proving that. And, it is represented by a brown bear. Nope. Fool me once... Blue bear it is; no matter how much it still confuses me.

Where HAVE I Been?

2011-10-13T10:36:00.000-07:00

I know, I know... I don't blog nearly enough. I have way too many stories and neuroses for one girl, and I should be writing them all down. Truth is, I have been writing. I've just been writing for my company's blog not my personal one. I don't derive nearly as much glee from the company blog but, still, I have been writing.

So, here's my committment to you, whoever you are, wherever you are, if there are even any of you out there... I will write. I will supplement by plugging in old blogs from another site that have never appeared here before. I may even repost older blogs that it's been awhile since you've seen (don't judge my grammar in this sentence, please and thank you). But, I will, once again, slap down my thoughts, however haphazard they may be, on this electronic page and put them out there for you to roll in. Just be prepared; it may get smelly sometimes. =)

Five is Good (and so is Ten)

2011-06-14T13:00:00.000-07:00

Five years ago I wrote a blog post entitled Five is Good. The actual subject was my son Ryan who, today, is turning ten. I thought it only fitting that I follow up. Below is an excerpt from Five is Good with my follow up to, duh, follow.

...I'm at the kitchen table with my rotary cutter, my special cutting mat and scads of black fleece and Ryan is hanging with me. He played army guys in the living room for awhile but then he had some homework to do so he came into the dining room with me. We turned on the Christmas music and set to work. He read his book from his book pack for school (today's book was The Hat) and then set to work on his coloring sheet. We spent the morning singing songs and giggling over goofy things. Five is good.

At one point, I had this very long piece of fleece that was a throw-away piece because it was only about a half an inch wide and he asked if he could have it. Of course. Who am I to deny such a fabulous gift? He threw it around his neck and began to dance about the dining room and I was reminded that this will not last. It will end with him until the first grandbaby comes along (my Christmas wish is that said grandbaby will not arrive for many years). But there is only maybe another year, possibly two, until this baby boy will discover that just being a sillyhead is not a socially acceptable thing to do whenever the mood strikes. He's singing his version of Jingle Bell Rock in the living room right now. But the dancing; the racing into the living room stark naked and doing a little dance and then dashing away; the singing of his versions of songs; the just being a total goofball, it will all begin to wane soon. I will miss it. It makes me laugh. Mitch didn't get it at first until I told him about how we all think it's so funny when Ryan does something like that but that, if it were Mitch doing it, we would be calling a specialist. Then he got it.

Five is good. Five gets to sing in the store. Five gets to have a belly and it's cute. Five takes baths with lots of bubbles and makes beards with them. Five gets to color for homework. Five gets to ask questions about things they don't understand and no one blinks an eye. Five gets soooo excited at EVERY house with Christmas lights on it. Five can't wait to tell Santa what it wants and believes with all its heart that he will come through for them. Five is rabid about the advent calendar. Five thinks cinnamon toast is THE best invention ever. Five wears cowboy boots with EVERYTHING, even shorts. Five has toes that, when you look at them from underneath, look just like little flesh colored peas straight from a pod. Five can have a Kool-Aid mustache and it is completely acceptable. Five gets feety pajamas with a saggy butt and it looks good. Five is enchanted with snow. Five is good. I love it and I will miss it.

But ten... Oh, ten. Ten is pretty good, too. Now, to be fair, we've only been ten for a day. Actually, if you want to get technical, we're not even ten for another 8 minutes, but whatever. Anyway, as I sat scanning pictures for Mitch's graduation slide show the other night, Ryan was at the dining room table doing his homework. It's not coloring sheets anymore (damn) and, to be honest, it's been a difficult year as there is waaaaay more homework in 4th grade than I ever remember. I think I made a papier mache relief map of Washington and that's all I really remember. Oh, and that Nina and Barbara did an amazing gymnastics routine to the song Carwash for the school talent show.

So, Ryan is doing homework and I'm scanning photos. And, that's when I heard it. I turned around to see him sitting there with his headphones on listening to music on his mp3 and singing to himself. Some things never change, I guess. I was reminded of the five year old boy I knew. I'll be honest, he still is kind of a sillyhead. I'm ok with that. He talks to anyone and everyone regardless of whether he knows them or not. He's always got a story to tell. In some ways he is still the boy I knew five years ago. He is bold without being fearless. He is sensitive without being gushy. He is a boy with a hint of a child and a smidge of the man he will become.

Ten is good. Ten is in track and proves that all the running he's done while being chased by older brothers has paid off. Ten still has toes that look like baby peas. Ten is about to be a fifth grader and one of the oldest kids at school. Ten picks out its own outfits. Ten is a little more fashion conscious now and then and likes to wear ties to school. Ten knows how to keep a secret. Most of the time. Ten carries the burdens of life like Atlas. Ten can drop the burden at the prospect of ice cream. Ten can cook Top Ramen by itself but can't put together a spaghetti dinner yet. Ten is thoughtful. About a lot of things. Ten has survived Human Growth & Development at school and "umm...that was weird." Ten is best friends with its dog. Ten loves zombies but still can't watch The Sixth Sense at night time. Ten is on the cusp of middle school. Ten still loves the book Corduroy. Ten is good. I love it just as much as five.

Mary Kay Letourneau Scares Me

2011-01-28T09:47:00.000-08:00

I just watched what is possibly the most awkward interview I've ever seen. Mary Kay and Vili, now married and ages 48 and 27 respectively, appeared this morning on the Today Show. The premise for the story was that Mary Kay just became a grandmother for the first time. Her oldest son from her first marriage (he's 28 now) and his wife just had a child in December.

Now, let me preface the rest of this by saying that what should have been a story about her becoming a grandmother (as the teasers suggested) did not succeed in doing so. This was a case of media hoo-ha and the resulting interview really had nothing to do with her becoming a grandmother at all. To that end, I am sorry for Mary Kay and Vili. However, they are the ones that agreed to the interview and, if they truly believed that 'grandparenthood' would be what the majority of the questions posed to them would be about, then I suppose they're completely blissed out because that would have been a truly ignorant assumption.

Moving on, though, this interview was like a bad car accident. Unfolding in slow motion before my eyes as my mouth fell open wider and wider with every passing moment of horror. It's hard for me to imagine that this woman has a teaching degree and now works as a legal assistant. Maybe it was because she really thought that they would be asking about the grandma thing and thus felt blindsided, but this woman is one of the most inarticulate specimens I've seen. Vili is no better but, to his credit, he's 27 and has been a father since he was 14. He really hasn't had a normal upbringing by any stretch of the imagination, so it's hard to expect him to act like an intelligent grownup.

The thing, though, that really burns me is the response given by Mary Kay when Meredith Viera (God bless her, she remained amazingly neutral through this) inquired of her what her thoughts would be if their own daughters, 12 and 13, were to come home and announce that they were having a sexual relationship with one of their teachers. The following is the dialogue that followed. And, yes, these are direct quotes...

Mary Kay - There really is no comparison to a male in the situation compared to a female.
Meredith - What do you mean?
MK - I just don't believe...I don't believe...There's, uh, physiological issues with a female having...engaging in...umm...sexual activity. I would think I would be worried if she was with someone her own age 'cause just, ideally, particularly for females...(sigh) later, so...

So, MK, you're saying it's different if it's a 33 year old woman molesting a 12 year old boy than it is if it's a 33 year old man molesting a 12 year old girl??? I'm confused. Maybe that's because I didn't study physiology when I was in college. However, I also have never had the desire to have a relationship of that nature with a 12 year old boy so maybe that's where my brain has trouble wrapping itself around this comment. I do, though, have a hard time believing that you'll ever hear this argued in any intelligent forum.

Meredith goes on to ask, if the tables were turned then and it was a boy, are you saying that's OK? MK replies that, no, she didn't say that and that, "in an ideal world, you want your children to wait." Maybe just not other people's children, though, eh MK? 'Cause it worked out pretty well for you that Vili didn't wait.

And, when asked "What would you have done differently if you could do it over?" because, from her own courtroom words she admitted that what she had done she had no right to do morally or legally, MK's response is that she "(doesn't) really look at life that way." And, okay, the past is the past and we can't change that. I get that. But, really? REALLY? Her lack of real answer says, in a nutshell, 'I would have acted just as I did the first time'. She goes on to say that, instead of looking back and asking 'What would I have done differently?', she looks back and says "I was doing my best in every situation at the time." Doing your very best??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? You were acting as a pedophile!!! Yes, it's a harsh word, but it's true! If you were a man (which I know you think is different), people would be talking castration at the very least, and you say you were "doing your best"???

She does admit, though, that there were "tragic things" that resulted from her being a child molester. All she was able to come up with that was tragic, though, is that she was separated from her children. Umm...yeah, of course you were. As every other child molester with children is when they are caught and sent to prison. Somehow, I think there's far more that is tragic here and it goes well beyond children being separated from a parent that is a convicted and unapologetic (as evidenced by her actions) pedophile.

And, finally, the closing question of the interview was an expected one but with an answer that was on par with the rest of the interview. And, again, direct quotes here...

Meredith (to Vili) - For those that still look at the two of you and judge you and say that what you did was wrong, what do you say to them?
V - (awkward pause and weird sneer on his face) I mean, people are gonna believe what they wanna believe. (long awkward pause and looks at camera with... indignance? and smiles)
M - And, we'll leave it at that...
V - I've never had...I've never had that question, but yeah...
M - You've never had what?
V - (smiling and on the verge of laughing with MK) I've never had that asked...to me in public ever, but...
MK - (finishing his sentence) ...there it was
V - There it was. (and laughs to himself)

I find this soooo hard to believe. Never? NEVER?? To quote the Sicilian from The Princess Bride, "Inconceivable!"

So, yeah, weird and awkward. Hopefully, the media won't think we care, or even want, to hear about any "news" in their lives again. And, if, for whatever reason, you want to watch the interview, there's a link below. I warn you, it's Strange. Strange with a capital S.

http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/26184891/vp/41310512#41310512

Guess What I Own?

2009-04-02T20:28:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 2/24/06
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I'm always amazed at the things kids say and the names they come up with for things that they don't know the real names for.

I remember my oldest coming up to me one day in the kitchen when he was about 4 or so and saying, "Can I have some...," and then he made this sound that is something akin to an angry Sleestack (if you're younger than 35, you probably have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about here; go Google Land of the Lost. Stupid show from the early 70's. Let it be said, though, that, if you were a young lady back in the day, you wanted nothing more to be chased by dinosaurs and rescued from Sleestack by Will. He was so hot!). I digress. So, my son makes this gargling/choking sound at me and I can't for the life of me figure it out. He just keeps repeating it. What I finally figure out is that he wants some whipped cream sprayed in his mouth. The choking sound being the sound that it makes when you spray the cream (God, that just didn't sound right).

There was also the night we were having homemade pizza. We like pineapple bits on our pepperoni pizza and, upon breaking out the container, Alex excitedly yells, "I know what those are! Those are pizza lemons!" Of course; what else would they be??

So, the other night, Ryan took his turn. The boys are getting ready for bed, doing the whole pj thing and, naturally, leaving their clothes wherever they see fit. It seems they believe that some magical vaccum comes and picks them up sometime within the next 24 hours and spits them out clean. In an effort to create children that are not complete and total slobs, though, we reminded them to pick them up and "take care of them". Ryan pipes up, "I know where they go; I know where they go! They go in the clothes toilet!" Exactly. Where else would you put clothing that your body has now defiled? The clothes toilet.

I'm so lucky. I've never heard anyone else say that they have a clothes toilet. I must be the first on my block. How rich am I?? I have three!!!

A Smack In the Face

2009-04-02T20:23:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 2/23/06; Ryan still won't play catch with anyone
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Don't know why I thought of this but this last summer Ryan did something that just cracked me up. My sister-in-law was over for dinner with her family and this is his very favorite aunt. Her name is Christina but Alex couldn't say that when he was little so she became Aunt Teenie and has been ever since. Well, Ryan loves Teenie almost more than me. He says he loves us both the same ("as big as the garage") but it is a pic of him as a baby with her that he has insisted on having in his room in a frame that says I ♥ My Mommy. Yes, a kick in the gut everytime I enter the room, but I'm learning to live with it.

So, she's here for dinner and we're bbq-ing and eating out on the back patio. While we're waiting for dinner to start, Ryan and Teenie go into the yard to play catch. He has a mitt that's just his size and she's using Barry's. He's done this before with other family members and did as well as most freshly turned (he'd let you know that, too; "freshly turned" he'd say after telling someone he was now 4) 4 year olds do. So, she is tossing the ball underhand to him and he does OK until about the third or fourth throw. Then it comes...the toss that he misses and hits him square in the face. This is a baseball, too. Not some twinky Nerf thing or a wiffleball or something.

It's worth noting here that Ryan is subject to fits of real anger. He's done it since before he could even say real words. He would scream at us in his babble and shake his finger at us and go on and on and then stomp out of the room. Just when you thought you were safe, he'd stick his head around the corner again and go at you again. Very much a "furthermore and another thing" type of deal. As he's gotten older, I swear the boy has been working on his arguing skills. He's got an argument for EVERYTHING.

So, he gets hit in the face and the sweet little boy that began playing catch with his beloved Teenie contorts into this evil little beast. Something akin to the movie Gremlins. His twisted little face looks at her and screams, "You hit me! You suck at this game!" And then he marches off. It was probably one of the most priceless moments in his little life. He hasn't played catch since.

She's Gone

2009-04-02T20:18:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 2/21/06
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At about 12:27 am eastern time this morning, my dear Gram passed away. I am totally fine and at peace knowing she finally is. Knowing that she is finally, once again looking into the face of her dear son, my dad, that she put in the ground 4 years and 6 days ago.

My Gram was so wonderful and I got the very best of her when I was there recently. That Wednesday when I was there when she was such a chatterbox was the last good day she had and I got it. Selfish? Maybe. I'm OK with being selfish in regards to my time with her. She told me then that she always wanted to be a bird. I told her to spread her wings and just fly. She finally has and I can only guess that the view is full of colors this world has never seen.

Once again, I realize how blessed I am to have had this beautiful bird fly into my life.

The Art of Shopping

2009-04-02T20:12:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 2/15/06; I'm not so sure that Ryan understands shopping any better now.
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So, yesterday, Ryan and I are out at JoAnn Fabric picking up 50% Valentine's Day stuff for our Cupid's Cafe dinner at home (don't roll your eyes; it was fun and was done mostly for the kids). I was hoping to find some little dish to put my homemade pink butter in but didn't find anything so we went over to Tuesday Morning. We go in and walk every single aisle in the store but don't find anything so we leave. We aren't even off the sidewalk in front of the store and he says to me, rather indignantly, "That's it? We went in there and aren't going to buy anything? What is that about?" I just looked at him and told him, "You're a boy. You don't understand the art of shopping."

My Gram Is Dying

2009-04-02T20:10:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 1/26/06; Gram passed close to a month after this being written. She would've turned 94 a couple of weeks ago. Gosh, I miss her.
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Life can be a real bitch sometimes. Watching someone you love die is worse. My gram is dying and I have to go say goodbye. How do you do that??? It's been nearly a year since I've seen her. Was in NY for her 90th birthday last March. She always said she would live to be 100 and we never doubted her. Cancer sucks.

My gram is a jewel. She is full of love and wrinkles. She is shorter than me and I love that. She holds your face with both hands when she kisses you. She rubs noses. She watches clouds and she's the best at it. She is full of mischief. She thinks she has a sister. She doesn't. She thinks the lady that takes care of her is nice. It's one of her own granddaughters and she doesn't remember her. She took me to Disneyworld when I was 12. Just me and her. She went on every ride with me and I still have the stuffed Thumper that she bought me. She is cool. Before Barry and I got married, she told me that we could live together as long as we wanted without getting married and even have babies and that was OK. My gram rocks. She tells the best stories. Even when she's talking nonsense. She helped me make my first snowman. I was 2 and it leaned to the side something awful but I have a picture of us with it just the same. When I was 2 she put a ball of yellow play-doh and a ball of blue play-doh in the can together and we closed it up tight right before I went to bed. In the morning there was a ball of green in there. My gram is magic, you know. My gram is dying and I have to say goodbye to her. My gram is the color pink when it is soft and and smells sweet. She is radiant when she wears that color. She is radiant even when she's wearing something else. My gram would fight tigers to protect her family. But she can't now. She loves ice cream. A lot. Me, too. She has the Hartman nose. So does my son Ryan. My gram loved my dad something fierce and misses him so much. So do I. She has grace and style like no woman I have ever met or heard of. She has a laugh that makes fairies giggle. She makes everyone that meets her fall in love with who she is. She's just that way. My gram is dying and I have to say goodbye to her. I don't even know if she'll know who I am.

Losing someone precious is like having your guts torn out. I leave on Sunday to fly east. I will have five days to tell her how much I love her and how much she means to me and how much I will miss her. How much I'm thankful for who she is and who she's made me. How do you say that to someone that doesn't even know you?

We're So Spoiled

2009-03-18T21:25:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 1/26/09 And we're still spoiled...
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I was doing laundry the other night. Alex had an entire drawer full of socks but none of the ones that he REALLY likes so I had promised to do a load of socks so that he'd have some of the right kind for the next morning. (sidebar - God, I'm whipped) So...I only remember this at something like 10 at night so I go through the house collecting all the socks and underwear and white t-shirts I can find and go throw them in the washer. No big thing; the washer takes something like a half hour or so to finish it's cycle and I'll still be up to switch the laundry to the dryer. So, dryer time comes and it's now nearly 11 at night and my washer/dryer is in my uninsulated garage. GADS!! It was cold out there!! And it's not like a typical load of laundry that has pants and shirts wrapping thier arms and legs around each other so that you can grab a handful of whatever and pull out a third of the load all at once. Oh, no, this is mainly socks. You know how it goes...you grab a handful, which really only amounts to about 4 socks if you're lucky, and then while trying to transfer it to the dryer, one will fall out of your little pile and land in the lint and crap that gathers on the floor in front of the machines.

Anyway, I'm standing there in the cold, throwing socks 2 at a time into the dryer and thinking to myself that it's just plain f-ing cold in there and that makes me think of Laura Ingalls Wilder. I know, "Where the hell is she going with this???" is what you're asking. It made me think of one of her books where she was talking about doing wash and Ma has put it out on the line to dry but it's so damn cold outside that the clothes all freeze and they have to bring in the frozen shirts and stuff and dry them by the fire. That sucks. Plus, if you know it's damn cold out, why are you putting the stuff out there on the line in the first place??? Duh? Do they not teach you that in pioneer school?

I digress...so, it gets me thinking about how spoiled we really are. Really, how long have we been living with microwaves? 20 years or so? That's really not that long. Can you imagine NOT having one, though? Answering machine? Cell phone? Email? Cable? VCR? Crap, vcr's are so "old" that they're almost obsolete now and I don't think I got my first one until something like '91! We are spoiled. My kids freak if I don't let them watch tv or play video games for a whole 4 hour stretch. "I'm so bored..." they whine. We're spoiled.

Imagine going on vacation to find that there was no blowdryer in the room, or, even worse, no little shampoos! Gasp!! We're spoiled. Imagine not turning on the computer everyday. Imagine only watching network tv for a whole week. Imagine cartoons only being on until 9 am on weekdays and 11 am on Saturday (don't even get me started on Sunday morning). Imagine having to watch re-runs of Star Trek, Adam 12, Emergency, Gilligan's Island and The Brady Bunch as your only after school entertainment...EVERYDAY. Imagine making dinner from scratch. Imagine no Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. Imagine having the only cool place to shop be The Squire Shop conveniently located in your local Fred Meyer store. Imagine spending your summer picking berries because that was the only job really out there and you didn't think twice about it because everyone did it? We're spoiled.

My garage isn't that cold. I have a dryer. I have the option of turning my thermostat up when I'm cold. I have lots of shoes. I have an automatic drip coffee maker. I have a toaster oven AND a regular oven AND a microwave oven. My car is paid for. I have a car. I don't stand in line to buy bread or produce. I have a great pediatrician. I can choose between at least 5 different stores to do my grocery shopping at and when I get there I'll have at least 5 different kinds of apples to choose from. I don't have to butcher my own meat. The government doesn't tell me what occupation I must have.

I'm spoiled. And so are you.

Deaf, Dumb or Blind

2009-03-18T21:22:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 1/13/06
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Am getting over a cold that left with pretty much no voice for close to 4 days. It completely sucked. It prompted discussions with the kids, though, regarding sign language. When our middle boy (Alex) was a baby we taught him sign, not because he had any impairment but based on the belief (and the Berkley study) that babies have the cognitive ability to communicate long before they develop the verbal skills to do so. Well, he took to it quite well and we were "talking" with him regularly by the time he was only a few months old. He was stubborn, though, and refused to speak for real until he was almost 3.

Anyway, I wouldn't say that we were ever fluent in sign but we did OK and I found myself falling back into wanting to use it more while I had no voice. Made me think, though...if you had to be one - deaf, dumb or blind - having had all the abilities before, which would you choose and why?

I think I would choose to lose my hearing. I don't know if I could stand to not see. It would break my heart to not see the faces of my children. Watching their faces when they are learning new things is amazing. I think we communicate a lot more with our faces and bodies than with our voices. Watching deaf people talk to each other is lyrical. It's fluid and mesmerizing to me. More people should learn sign in my opinion.

So, I've got my voice back now, though, and the signing thing has kind of passed at our house. Nothing beats a reminder of what you've got, though.

Behind Every Good Man...

2009-03-18T21:18:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 1/5/06 Ryan is still a child that renders me speechless more than I care to admit.
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Another fascinating glimpse into the mind of a 4 year old at my expense...

Ryan looks at me the other day and asks why I have green eyes (they're actually hazel but I've always wished they were green) and he has blue eyes. I told him that he got his blue eyes from Daddy and that, someday, when he is a grownup and has a wife and they have babies, his children might have blue eyes like him or the color of eyes that his wife has. He looks at my a bit puzzled and says, "What's a wife?" My mind reeled. This was it. This was my opportunity to tell him what to look for. This was my opportunity to begin molding what my daughter-in-law would be like!

I bit my tongue and began with simply, "You know, I'm Daddy's wife and he is my husband because we are married." Once again, the look comes over his face that says, "Oh, you silly, silly woman. How sad that you are so much older than I but know so little." And then it comes. He says to me, enunciating the appropriate parts of the word in an attempt to make me understand the first time, "The word isn't 'wi-fuh', it's 'wi-puh'."

"What? Wipe?" I say, knowing that I've already stepped off into the darkness of wherever this is going.

"Yeah, you know, like a (diaper) wipe but different," he says matter of factly, still giving me that patronizing stare."I see" is all I can muster in response.

So, I'm a wipe. Hmm...don't know how I feel about that but it does make sense; behind every good man is a good wipe.

Buckle Up!

2009-03-18T21:15:00.001-07:00

Reposted from MySpace blog...originally dated 1/1/06
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If you have small-ish children, you have probably been at the grocery store and had to listen to the pleadings of such innocents for the chance to get one of the special grocery carts that has a front that looks like a car. While these carts ARE rather cool looking, I have a few misgivings about them.First of all, if you have a family of more than 3 and you plan on buying more than a box of cheap wine, some frozen peas and a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, forget it. You won't be able to fit much more than that. However, if you opt for the larger, more traditional style cart, you still won't be able to get much more because your toddler will be laying in the large part of said vehicle throwing a fit because he/she didn't get the car cart while you have the little passenger area for your groceries.

Then there's the size of the overall piece of machinery. Good God!! If you want to turn one of these babies around in an aisle, forget it. You can't even do a 3-point turn with one of them. Maybe a 5-8 - point turn but I've got a ribbon for anyone that can do a three. Worse yet is when you encounter oncoming traffic in an aisle. Thank goodness there are no side mirrors to deal with is all I have to say about that. Come to think of it, though, they probably wouldn't be a bad idea. You might as well forget about navigating the bakery section in any Safeway, too. You'll have to leave your child out there on the perimeter while you weave your way through the croissants and turnovers on foot.

Third, these things are a pain in my post pregnancy ass to "drive". Personally, I think there should be a manual, written and driving test before anyone should be able to get behind the the handlebar of one of these things. I suggest setting up a small study/testing area near the bakery area. I myself study better when I have a snack so they could make a few extra bucks off me while I'm there. Throw in a coffee bar right there and I may even purposely fail my test a few times just to hang out with the other moms for muffins and lattes in the morning. We could giggle and talk about boys and the clothing we used to be able to wear. Then it's off for practice on a course in the parking lot with those screaming orange traffic cones and obstacles that one must manuever around. You would have an instructor with you, of course, that would have a handlebar of his/her own and would bark instructions at you.

Finally, the main thing to remember about these behemoths is that they are rear-wheel drive rather than all-wheel like we're used to - something no one ever tells you until you crash into an endcap display of the place setting of the week right in front of the store manager (God save you if your little one's hands or arms are outside of the vehicle at the time because you may have to have something amputated). The only problem being is that, when sitting around by themselves with no one in them, you will notice that not all wheels rest solidly on the ground! The center set of wheels are actually lower so that, when you place your darling little Richard Petty in the driver's seat, the REAR wheels come off the ground rendering you and your steering ability completely hopeless. Honestly, I think they do this on purpose and then watch us from their little bubble cams in the ceiling and laugh.

So, there you have it. Probably better off spending money on a babysitter and going to the store alone really. If you do venture into the wide open world of grocery store Nascar, do remember this...if you've done your job right and buckled up your child everytime you get into your real vehicle, you WILL be yelled at by your angel if you dare to take off into the produce section without first letting him/her buckle up. At first I thought that was cute - he wanted to follow the safety rules he had been taught. Then I experienced all of the above and realized the beansprout was probably smarter than I was. "The fruit zone is for loading and unloading only. Please keep all hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times. Should we experience a water landing..."

Can you guess...

2009-02-10T12:19:00.000-08:00

One of these things is not like the other; one of these things just doesn't belong. Can you guess which one is not like the other (and, no, it's not the woman) before I finsh this song?

It's the Grammys! One night in the year when music's "royalty" comes out to pay their respects. Here we see Herbie Hancock (legend), Natalie Cole (legend) and the artist (and I use the term loosely) formerly known as HR Puff 'n Stuff.

Now, for someone that claims to be such a bigshot, and for someone who knows he's going to be presenting with such greats, don't you think he'd show up in something other than blue jeans, an oversized tee, a Franklin Mint commemmorative coin necklace and a Members Only jacket?

One more reason why I loathe this man.

Puberty

2009-02-04T17:07:00.000-08:00

Wow, it's been a long time since I last blogged. Not for lack of subject matter, that's for sure. There was the shoe being thrown at Bush, more issues with toilet paper, the evolution game, the Mayan temple of PEZ and so much more. I'll get to it, I promise. Today, though, we're on a different tangent. Won't you join me?

So, a couple of nights ago, Barry and I are in the kitchen, the kids are in the process of finishing up their dinner and Ryan is still sitting at the breakfast bar. Mitch is nowhere to be found (not sure where he was) and Alex was about ready to exit the kitchen. I'm not even sure why now, but Alex was in a really, and I do mean really, pissy mood. He was stomping about and clanking things around and finally trudged off to his room while the three of us just looked on without saying a word. When we heard his door get shoved shut, I turned to Barry and said, "What's his problem?" At which point Ryan interjected his reply...

Now, mind you, this child is 7. 7 going on 45. 7 going on 45 with no front teeth. He looks at us with a completely blank expression and very matter-of-factly says, "Puberty. Ya can't avoid it." Barry and I just look at each other and try not to laugh. The kind of look that reminds me of how Ferris looks at the camera when his sister covers for him with Mr. Rooney at their back door. And then, Ryan continues, "It's gonna happen to me someday and that's why I'm tryin' to learn as much about it as possible now 'cause I've got that anger management problem..." Seriously, I could not make this up if I tried. This child just renders me speechless sometimes (which makes it rather ironic that I'm retelling the story, right?).

Mmmm, so there; there's your blog about puberty. I'll be a more faithful blogger in the future and share all my other weird stories that I've been saving up.

Drag Queens Never Die

2008-09-26T14:35:00.001-07:00

Well, after the last couple of rather emotionally heavy blogs, it's certainly time for one that's a little more lighthearted, isn't it? I've been meaning to write about this for awhile but simply didn't have the right photos to accompany it. And, really, it's all about the photos. It really would make no sense without them. Not that I'm claiming this will make sense with them, but you get the picture. hahahahaha "get the picture"!! Oh, gosh, I just slay me!

So, here's where our story starts...once upon a time there was a girl addicted to reality shows. OK, not ALL reality shows but quite a few. She will admit to the fact that it all started with the first season of The Real World back in 1992. For a girl that couldn't get enough of psychology and sociology classes in college, this show was a dream come true. A grand social experiment played out on Wednesday night at 9! Hurray! Unfortunately, after the second season it all kind of fell to crap.

But then, as if Heaven had heard her prayers, Survivor appeared! This was even better! More people! A scheming game mentality! No food, no lights, no motor cars, not a single luxury! Like Robinson Crusoe, it's primitive as can be!

**Side note - if you didn't get that reference, then you clearly did not grow up in a time when 60's reruns were all you had to watch after school each day.

As I was saying, Survivor burst on the scene and she entered nirvana. With it's success, though, a multitude of other reality shows hit the scene, most of which, she could entirely do without. But, then it happened. She found herself unwittingly being consumed by shows she never thought she would be watching...America's Next Top Model, Design Star, Top Design, Biggest Loser, Amazing Race, Project Runway, Tabatha's Salon Takeover, Shear Genius...the list goes on.

As painful as it is to admit, I confess that I am said girl. Yes, I could watch marathons of any one of the above mentioned shows and be a happy camper. The icing on my cake is still Survivor, though. I'm rather rabid about watching that on Thursday nights. I have to admit that I only watched the first half of the season premier last night, though. I can watch the other half on On Demand today and I really didn't want to miss Jim finally proposing to Pam on The Office, which I was sure was going to happen (and it did) and it was well worth it.

Anyway, what does this all have to do with drag queens, you ask? It is part of the title after all and all I've done is rattle on about reality TV. Well, several weeks ago on Project Runway they did a challenge where they had to design for various drag queens. It was one of my favorite episodes because, and here's another tidbit of my warped psyche, I'd love to be a drag queen. Oh, to be a man and 6 feet tall and dressing like a woman! Have you ever seen Connie and Carla? Not that great of a movie but LOVE it! The hair, the makeup, the outfits, the SHOES! I recommend the movie Kinky Boots, too, by the by. It's based on a true story and, if you love shoes and drag queens, it's a must see. I digress...

So, Project Runway...drag queens...fabulous outfits... So the guest judge for the episode is Rupaul. I love her. Beautiful. Spicy attitude. Amazing body. Great voice. I was excited to see the diva at the end of the show. But then they showed her. My God in Heaven! WHAT has happened to her? I mean, it's been awhile since I've seen her, but wow! She's certainly looked better. The disturbing thing, though, is that the first thing I thought of when I saw here was the morlocks from the movie Time Machine. Gads! Judge for yourself!

I mean, REALLY! The hair is rather similar, the sunken cheeks, the mouth. My God, they're even wearing the same necklace!!!! I still love her, though. Even though she's a morlock wearing makeup. And, now I know that drag queens never die. They just become morlocks.

Friends Are Friends Forever...Sometimes

2008-09-22T21:08:00.000-07:00

So, I'm at one of my new part time gigs today, which is cleaning for a family that lives across town. They are a young couple (translated = younger than me) and have a little girl that is about a year and a half old. They own an advertising firm and work from home and the balance between work and housework was not balancing so well so that leads to me being in their home cleaning.

This morning I'm there cleaning and I'm bustling around doing dishes and floors and laundry and toy pickup, etc. There is a VeggieTales CD in the stereo and I'm listening to kids' songs and church youth group type songs that I haven't heard in ages. Then, on comes the VT version of Michael W. Smith's song Friends Are Friends Forever. Not to date myself but I was at that MWS concert when he released that...ahem...album. And, yes, it really was an ALBUM. I think I still have it, too. Well, it was a little weird to hear the Veggie crew singing it to begin with, but I also don't think I've really listened to that song in over 20 years. It's a sweet, make you bust out in tears song and, if memory serves, it was written in response to a letter about a young girl who had passed away and the friends she left behind. Thus the lyrics, which, if you aren't familiar with them, go something like this:

Friends are friends forever, if the Lord's the Lord of them
And a friend will not say never 'cause the welcome will not end
Though it's hard to let you go in the Father's hands we know
That a lifetime's not to long to live as friends.

Moving on, the song was played at countless end of whatever's to make the girls all cry about not seeing their friends in what seemed like a lifetime but what was, in actuality, about a 3 month summer vacation. I think the song took on so many different meanings to so many different people over time and, of course, to me, today, yet another.

It made me think a lot about friends and those that stick around and those that don't. The one's that give and the one's that only take. I'd like to think that I've always given in my friendships but I'm sure there's someone out there that only saw me as a taker. I hope it's not true but I wouldn't be surprised if it were. I know I've been the giver on many occasions and I try to take my turn as the taker but sometimes it's hard to even admit that you NEED to be a taker for a moment or two lest the other see you only as that. I had one friend that I remember thinking was my best friend in the whole world. She and I just got each other or so I thought. But then there was the fateful time when I needed her; REALLY needed her and she just wasn't there for me. And then I found out from a mutual friend that, whenever we were all out together and I would leave to just go to the bathroom, all kinds of foulness would spill from her mouth about me, much of which wasn't true. I ended that relationship and it has made me sad over the years but I also realize I'm much healthier for it.

Anyway, what the song REALLY made me think about the most, though, are the friends I had when I was in college. The Bible college. The college where we were all asked/told how "good" people acted and spoke and dressed; what we were to discuss and believe and not believe and how we should respond to __________ and...the list goes on. Well, I'm not the same girl I was then in many ways but I also AM the same girl I was back then in many ways. There was an "incident" after I finished school that caused me to fall from favor in the school's eyes and I basically told them to bite me. What was interesting, though, was the reaction from my "friends". There were those that stood right by my side. Never mind how they felt about the "incident"; they believed in ME and remained my friend. Those people were not necessarily in the majority, though. No, the vast majority just quietly shunned me. People who I thought were my friends wouldn't even say hello to me. Even when I said hello to them first. It was crazy and I would like to think that it was because we were all so young really and, well, stupid. What I've found over the years, though, is that age really has nothing to do with it.

In just the last year I've had the good fortune of finding several old friends online. It's always fun to find those people that meant so much to you when you were younger that you haven't seen or heard from in years. You've spent countless moments wondering what ever became of them, where they are, what they're doing, are they married, do they have children, etc. We find each other and it's all exciting until they ask me about where life has taken me in the last 15 or so years and I tell them. And then, it seems that because I don't fit the Bible college mold (which, by the by, is severely warped) that we were all being pressed into so many years ago, I am unworthy of a response. "Oh, gosh, well, I didn't know that you actually were a sinner. If I had known that, I probably wouldn't have been friends with you in the first place. Excuse me while I avoid responding to any of your emails." Umm...like I said in a previous post, we should all, ALL of us, be wearing alphabet sweaters if we're going to start pointing out the ways in which we have fallen short of perfection.

So, yeah...

Friends are friends forever, if the Lord's the Lord of them (unless of course you admit that you sin and, in that case, the Lord isn't the Lord of your friendship????)
And a friend will not say never 'cause the welcome will not end (unless you are not perfect because then I don't want to associate myself with you because other people might think less of me and it's all about how I look to others!)
Though it's hard to let you go in the Father's hands we know (actually, it is pretty easy to flake on you but..."I'll pray for you")
That a lifetime's not too long to live as friends (unless you are caring and giving and make me laugh and have always been supportive of me but choose to be honest about what's happened to you in the last 15 years; then all bets are off)

On the flip side of all of this, though, are the friends that are still my friends; both the people that I've been in touch with all through the last 15 and those that I've reconnected with that understand that life happens and you just are who you are. Because I'm still smart and can have an intellectual conversation with you that will leave us both feeling like we didn't just waste the last half hour of our lives. Because I'm still damn funny and I can make you laugh and, chances are, you make me laugh, too; maybe even enough to make me snort or cry or pee. Because you know that you could call me in the middle of the night because you just needed someone to talk to and that I would listen. Because I'd still give to you whatever I could to make your life better. Because I still remember the value of a friend. The people that remember all of that, they are the people from my past that I'm finding mean the most to me. Why? Because they are the friends that never said never and who's welcome did not end.

"Of course, you don't believe in abortion..."

2008-09-12T12:24:00.000-07:00

As some folks know, I've been looking for a part-time job (or two) recently. Having both breadwinners in the house being self-employed kind of sucks in a down economy. Add to that the fact that one of them is in real estate and it's an even bigger hit. I've been working at home for four years and it's hard to think of going back to a real job. One of the first things the kids said to me was, "Does this mean you're not going to be a stay at home mom anymore?" That'll break your heart into about a thousand and one pieces right there. I've been there when someone got sick and didn't have to "arrange" to work from home to take care of them. I've been there for field trips and picking up from school and all of that. It's been marvelous and I'm doing everything in my power to STILL be able to do all of those things.

Anyway, I recently went to an interview for a job that I'm fairly certain I won't get just because I was honest and I don't fit the mold they're looking for. Whatever. It was for a part time admin for a Christian non profit. Honestly, working for a religious based organization would never be my first choice of job but I did think that, despite the religious bent, what they are doing is a fantastic thing and well needed. Anyone that knows me...REALLY knows me...knows that, despite my distance from any organized church and my unwillingness to identify with any one church, I still have faith, I still believe in God, I still believe the Bible is His inspired Word, etc. Given my experiences with God's people, though, in the last 15 or so years, I've certainly lost faith in THEM in general. I have, in fact, found more compassion and acceptance from what some would call the most God-LESS people over the last several years. What I have seen from "God's people" is hypocricy to it's fullest extent. What makes a group of people so quick to brand another as unworthy? Aren't we all sinners? Don't we all have a scarlet letter to wear? Let's see, that's A for Adultry, B for Blasphemy, C for Coveting... Let's be honest, we should all be wearing Sesame Street alphabet shirts.

Anyway, I'm climbing higher and higher onto a soapbox and diverging from the actual incident that precipitated this blog. What else is new, right? So, I'm in this interview because (A) my availability suits the position, (B) I have office administration skills that, quite frankly, would rock any boss's world, and (C) my resume shows that I graduated from a private Bible college that is one of, if not THE, best in the nation. So, I'm being interviewed and we're talking about my skills and I'm letting them know how I would manage the tasks they have and how my skills would be a tremendous help to them (I'm not lying here, they really would be) and we get to the religious part. Because they are a non profit, they can ask those kinds of questions and I knew they would come up.

So, the first question out of the gate is, "Tell me about your walk with Christ." Hmmm...my "walk with Christ"? I love cliches. I don't like to think of it so much as a "walk" but more of a journey. Sometimes we drive, sometimes we skip, sometimes we power walk, sometimes we just lay in bed and think about the situps we should be doing. Anyway, I tell the woman that "to be honest, it's been about...16 years since I've been to church." THAT freaked her out. "Oh," she says, "uh...OH." I explained why; I explained how some of God's "higher ranking" people have treated me in various situations; I explained that, when it all comes down to it, it's about a personal relationship (for lack of a better, non cliche-ish phrase) than it is about being "right" in someone else's eyes. I explained that I didn't believe that God cared whether I wore all black on a regular basis or not. That He doesn't care if I love to go dancing. That he doesn't care if my hair is purple or my head is half shaved (it's not, by the way, but what would it matter if it was?); that being friends with someone doesn't have to mean you espouse to everything they do and vice versa. Anywho, she seemed satisfied enough with my answer to not count me out yet and move on.

The next statement/question, though, is where this all comes together. It's one of a few hot buttons for me in the religious community and I'm sure they're still talking about "that one woman that came in for an interview". Good. I hope they talk a lot about me and what I had to say because I think it bears contemplating. She says, "Of course, you don't believe in abortion then?" She says it less like a question than a statement. I'm sure she was sure of what my Bible girl answer would be. Her face, though, upon hearing my reply, was stunning. "Actually," I said quite confidently and matter of factly, "I'm pro choice." Silence. Add an H for heretic to my letterman's sweater. I explained that I felt it was wrong for the government, ANY government, to tell a person what they could or couldn't do with their own body. *sidebar - yes, I know that the argument goes that the woman is doing something not to HER body but to someone else's but, let's be honest, if you're laying on a bed with your feet in stirrups, something's being done to YOUR body.* I fell short of bringing up the Chinese government and how they regulate how many children a woman can have, etc. but explained that, when screaming and protesting and picketing about how pro choice is sooo wrong and Godless, I think too many people forget that the reason we even have choice over ANYTHING in our lives is because, right from the Bible they are beating upon, God GAVE it to us! Yes, that's right my "brothers and sisters in the Lord", choice is a God given right! I told her that I believe we are given a very big responsibility in being given the right to make our own choices and that many of the choices in front of us require us to use the brains in our heads to make the best decisions we can. However, that is OUR responsibility and not the government's. Did I really answer her question? No, not exactly; but that's not the point. The point is that too many Christians are still walking down a long, narrow path simply because of the enormous blinders they have been told to wear. I think I kind of scared this woman, though. Geez, give a girl a Bible education and then slap her in the face with it and it becomes a dangerous thing.

So, anyway, if you disagree with my position, that's totally cool. It's your choice. Right? I would ask of you, though, to consider for a moment your own children if you have any. Is your firstborn a girl? If so, consider throwing her in a river to drown. Do you have more than one child? Consider giving away all but the first boy. It sounds trite but I challenge you, if you dare, to really think about what you would feel if you were forced into that situation. Unable to choose the outcome of your family for yourself. It's so NOT about whether you believe abortion is right or wrong. It's about exercising your God given ability to choose and to make the best choice for yourself. Because only YOU can choose what is right for YOU. No one else can and no one else should choose what is right for another person's life.

Finally, the letter for the day is not C for Choice but T for Think. Being pro choice doesn't mean the same thing as being pro abortion. It means what it says. Pro CHOICE. Thank God for the choices you are able to make everyday. Your choice to decide what grocery store to go to. Your choice of what career path to follow. Your choice of housing and friends and clothing and... And, especially if you're a woman, thank the judicial system for Roe v. Wade and giving you your right to choose.

Olympic Soup - A Garnish

2008-08-21T10:26:00.000-07:00

Silly me for posting my Olympic themed blog prior to the games even being over! Last night I saw something that made me laugh out loud.

So, it's 11:30 at night and I crawl into bed and decide what to fall asleep to. Yes, I fall asleep to TV. It's pathetic and I admit it. Anyway, I start scanning what's on using my handy dandy "guide" feature, which, by the way, I LOVE! Thank you, Comcast for not making me have to (A) look at EACH channel and then try to remember which ones looked interesting, and (B) keep track of some ridiculous paper guide that changes every week (although I do admit that, when we only had 5 channels, that was one of my favorite pieces of literature in the house. It was like my own personal organizer for the coming week).

Digression aside, I'm going through the guide and get to MSNBC and see that the games are still on. Now, honestly, MSNBC and CNBC really air mostly the strange and weird of the Olympics. The fairly normal, mainstream coverage goes to NBC and these two offshoots seem to be treated as the ugly, redhaired stepchildren. This is, of course, where I watched the aforementioned presentation of Dancing With the Horses and the grisly accident scene called Men's Speed Walking, so it really should have been no huge surprise to find some other Olympic anomoly. Anyway, I tune in just as the announcer (some woman that I have never seen or heard of before...of course) states that they will be joining the Men's Open Swim competition in progress. "Great!" I muse, "Never seen this before; it can't be all that strange since it's just guys swimming, right?" Wrong.

OK, the guys swimming is not so weird but the first shot is an aerial one that shows the pod of thrashing bodies in the water. It kind of looked like a school of flying fish buzzing along. Arms coming up here and there only to dive back down to the depths without so much as a wave or OK sign. "Not so bad," I'm thinking. Then we go to a more water level shot. Apparently the camera is on a boat or something that is stationed a bit ahead of the swimmers. In the foreground, though, are a bunch of Chinese men standing on a dock with metal poles out over the water. What the hell? As the swimmers get closer to the dock, these little men begin wildly waving their poles over the water (that didn't sound right). Just very weird. It looks like they're fishing. Everyone jockeying for position because the flying fish are spawning and, if you're going to fish for flying fish, of course your pole must be above the water in the air so that they can grab at the bait as they glide by, right? At this point I begin wondering about what kind of bait one uses for flying fish. Worm? Corn? Fly??? aahh hahahahaha I crack myself up; spent too much time working in the fishing industry, I guess.

Anyhoo...the swimmers approach, the poles begin waving, the Chinese men begin yelling and then it happens... FISH ON!! A flying fish arm comes leaping from the water and grabs at the pole! Again, what the hell? Is it like tag team open water swimming? One after another, the ends of the poles are grabbed at and I begin to notice that something is being removed from those poles. Just when I'm fully confused, the commentator announces that it's really important to keep one's calorie count up during long races like this, so the swimmers are snagging some food. ????? Yes, they're paper cups filled with some kind of foodstuff. So, they were fishing and they did have bait!! The best part is that they even call the little dock that they were standing on to fish a feeding station!!! How weird is THAT?? Now I'm all curious about what they're eating, though, and just how does one hack down some granola or something whilst swimming at breakneck speed? And, where do they throw the cup when they're done? Is there a designated river skimmer that goes out and nets them all after the school has passed? So many questions...

So, one more Olympic event that I don't really understand. I won't even get into the fact that swimming in a river in China sounds icky to me. Didn't these boys ever read The Yellow River by I.P. Freely? Eeeww...

PS. It has been suggested that I be a correspondent during the next Olympic games. To that, I say, Bring It ON!! That would be so cool! Maybe Colbert needs someone to fill that position. That would be fun.

Olympic Soup

2008-08-19T14:29:00.001-07:00

Olympic Soup

Oh, it's been so long since I've blogged! How have any of you survived? ; )

So, the title of today's blog is Olympic Soup because, like soup, it contains a little bit of everything regarding my thoughts on the Olympics. I confess that I am an Olympics junkie. I'll watch almost any competition at least for a little while. I was so excited when they went to an every-two-years format so that I only have to wait 2 years between getting to spend 2 weeks out of my year plastered to the TV. OK, realistically, that happens other times but it usually involves some reality show marathon that I'm too embarrassed to share with you that I watch. Have I mentioned that Bret Michaels is still hot to look at? ahem... as always, I digress...

So, the first ingredient in Olympic Soup is, of course, fashion! What was up with those outfits the US wore in the opening ceremonies? It's like 90 degrees outside with 97% humidity and they dress them in suits and those ridiculous hats? The chick on Project Runway that won the Olympic wear challenge did a better job in my opinion. I KNOW someone threatened those athletes with bodily harm in order to (A) get them to wear the hats and (B) wear them the right way. I didn't see a single hat cocked to the side or worn backward, either of which would have been an enormous improvement. I'd like to thank, though, whoever designed the men's swimming outfits. A departure from Speedo's is always welcome. Might we find something with a little more cool factor for the indoor women cyclists to wear on their heads, though, than the alien looking helmets they currently don? Seriously, it looks like the alien head from all the Alien movies. I expect a disgruntled cyclist to have a secondary mouth come out of her face and eat an opponent.

You be the judge.

Ingredient number two for a good Olympic Soup is multiple flavors (countries). Now, here's where I get a little cranky. I love the fact that so many countries are represented and that there appears to be such an international flavor to the games. For the most part, everyone seems to be pretty chummy, too, and showing loads of good sportsmanship. However, what's the deal with all these people competing for other countries that otherwise live and train in the US? Uh...if you were born, yes born, in the US, live in the US and train in the US, why would you compete for another country? Oh, there's the fact that your parents were born there, but YOU weren't. You don't live there; you don't train there, so why represent them? I don't get that. I can trace my family tree back to Sweden but I wouldn't compete for them in the Olympics. Seriously, if you live, train and otherwise compete here why not represent the place you have already said by your actions is your destination of choice? Maybe the reason you don't train in your "home" country is because anyone worth their salt doesn't train there because the country's training sucks. If the training there sucks so bad, stick around and improve it since you're such a stellar athlete. There's one chick from Australia that went to college in the US, was a roommate and teammate of US athletes, and has now lived in the US and trained at a US facility for the last eight years. EIGHT YEARS!!! I just don't get that. Either be Australian or not. Talk about wishy washy. So, yeah, that kind of irks me. Maybe the reason everyone has been so nice to each other is that they really are used to hanging out together on a regular basis anyway.

The third and final ingredient is multiple events. I've seen some this year that I didn't even know existed. I watched some of the equestrian competition, which I expected to be some kind of riding thing like you see snobby English people do - you know, jumping over bars and moats and stuff - but was surprised to find that it's about the horse more than it is about the rider. Basically, it's the floor exercise for horses. They prance around and do all kinds of little steps that, honestly, I've never seen a horse do before but that's beside the point. I found it to be an elevated version of Stupid Pet Tricks. Yeah, yeah, the horse will only do this if the rider gives them the proper cues but so do racing pigs, right? When will that be an Olympic sport. Or maybe the dog competitions with those border collies that run through the obstacle course as fast as lightening. They're just following cues, right? So, how is the horse thing any different? I found it ridiculous.

Another sport that I tuned into by accident that was a little disturbing to watch? Men's 20k speed walking. It's bad enough to watch one person do that hitchy speed walking thing but to watch a whole herd of them is weird. Kind of like a freak show that you know you shouldn't watch because it would be disrespectful but you're nonetheless transfixed. I find it all so odd. I swear I'm going to see one of them dislocate a hip someday.

And, that brings me to sports I'd like to see at the Olympics. How about competitive TP'ing? My own home was hit for the first time shortly before the opening ceremonies. It was a fine job and now I know why I was awoken to a thumping on the roof somewhere around 3am.

My thought is that the judging can be somewhat like the gymnastics judging. First you get a score based on difficulty. This particular job I would give a 5.8. Then you start out with a perfect 10 for execution and receive deductions from there. So, with a potential overall score of 15.8, I would give this project a final score of 14.95. The picture doesn't do it justice but there were beautiful tails dancing in the breeze from the tree branches. Truth be told, there's still some there today. However, there were two rolls that were not completely used and the empty tubes that were there were not used as creatively as they could of been. Really, I think this would be a great Olympic sport. There could be an individual competition, team, relays, etc. It involves creative skill, athletic ability and the ever important stealth.

I think there should be a rifle competition that involves a potato gun, too. A homemade potato gun. Not only must you be skilled in the construction but you must overcome any shortcomings your gun may have such as sighting a bit to the left for instance. Make the stakes even higher and require that the athletes grow and harvest their own potatoes! Multiple skills represented, engineering ability required...it all seems quite plausible.

There should be ice blocking. Of course, that would be in the winter games, though. Again, lots of room for different competitions with this. Individual, team, relay... There could be competitions based on speed as well as creative/artistic presentation. It's a no brainer. If you've ever been ice blocking before, you know that there is a fair amount of athletic ability that factors in. You have to be able to balance on something rather small, you have to be able to keep your legs up in the air for the duration of the run, you have to choose the best course, etc. Injuries do occur, too, so that makes it officially athletic in nature.

So, now you have Olympic Soup. All you need now is an appropriate label. Thank you, NBC for providing one for me so I didn't have to spend time creating one in Microsoft Paint! Honestly, the first time I saw this on the TV screen, I thought it was a Campbell's Soup label. Look away and then just glance at it again. Campbell's Soup all the way. Replace the 2008 with the word "soup", change the "Beijing" to "Olympic", lose the peacock and it's done!

Olympic Soup...it's mmm, mmm good!

Guest Who Don't Show

2008-07-31T22:07:00.000-07:00

Aaaahhhh...I love reading old blogs. I had totally forgotten about this one. This is from back around Christmas time of '05. I know, I know...ancient days ago, but this is priceless. Ryan is still irked at people that don't keep their word.

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So, my 4 year old goes to a private preschool/daycare place. They aren't religiously affiliated in anyway but they are old school and don't worry to much about being PC. This winter they put on a Christmas pageant and 2 days ago the kids had a Christmas party at school where they were able to bring treats and stuff. Today was the Happy Birthday Jesus party for the kids put on by the teachers.

Yesterday Ryan tells me he's really looking forward to going to school today because they're having the Happy Birthday Jesus party and "I've never met him before so I really want to see him!" Priceless. I told him I wasn't sure if Jesus would actually be able to BE at the party since he was born sooooo long ago. "Mom," he says, as if I'm completely retarded, "that's just a story."

So, he goes to school today and I pick him up at noon and ask how the party went. He is completely pissed when I mention it and indignintly states, "He wasn't even there!" I'm with him...I hate it when invited guests don't show; so rude.

Must Be Doing Something Right

2008-07-31T18:27:00.000-07:00

Today is my 10th anniversary. This morning my 7 year old brought my husband and I a card that he insisted I buy 2 weeks ago but was not allowed to see. He had taken the card to his brothers and had them each sign the card, too. It was truly precious as none of our kids have ever "done" anything for us for our anniversary in the past.

So, my oldest son (15) writes in the card, "You two have taken good care of us. You two have gone through the good, the bad and and ugly for us. Yet, we still don't see any of it and don't care." What a gift! He knows that we really have gone through some ugly situations in the past but we've always made our family the first priority. He also knows that during the good times, the family is the first to sop up the outpouring of generosities.

I looked at my husband and told him that we must be accomplishing what we set out to do with this family of ours. To insulate them from what they should never have to worry themselves about as children and to nurture them into the fine young thoughtful men that they are. That's about the most perfect gift we could ever ask for.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

2008-07-27T11:12:00.000-07:00

Here's a blog from back in '05...the beginning of the MySpace blog migration I promised. Short but sweet and definitely something that is timeless in its lesson. And, while I'm currently in one of those "not getting what I want" phases in life, despite the crap that is swirling around me in my toilet bowl of life (sorry, that's not a very nice mental picture now that I think about it), it's probably just what I need. Alright, now the mental picture just became worse and I'm even icked out. Apologies.
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So, I'm at one of my rentals yesterday doing some work (and it needs lots of it) and I'm listening to the radio as I sit in the stairway and paint. On comes The Stones. I confess I've never been much of a Stones fan so I've never really paid much attention to their lyrics or anything. But, sitting in the stairway painting - a task that appears not to have been done in somewhere around 15 years - I took a real listen.

What I came away with was...you can't always get what you want, but if you try real hard, you might just get what you need...or something relatively close to that. Hmm...profound. So many times I haven't gotten what I wanted; however, I've generally ended up with something that I looked back and said, "Ah, I get it now...what I got was actually what I needed as a human being at the time." Important lesson.

Case in point, I have 3 boys. What on earth I would ever do with icky ol' boys I wasn't sure. I desperately wanted a girl; sobbed each time I learned I was having a boy. Looking back, though, I find that I have no idea what I would have done with one if I had gotten one. I like girly things but I have no patience for the prissy, girly, I-have-to-have-these-shoes-to-go-with-this-purse-and-I-need-this-hair-thing-to-match-and.... business. I'm better with dirt and bugs and blue jeans and boots. Better yet, I realized that I retained the status of being the only female in the house; a position that relish.

No, you can't always get what you want. But, if you try real hard, you just might get what you need.

2008-07-25T21:09:00.000-07:00

After saying to myself for several months that I was going to start a blog here, I finally have. Have been blogging at MySpace for quite some time but there are plenty of people out there that are connected to me that DON'T have a MySpace and this just seems like an easier place for them to find my blogs. I'll start transferring over some of the older blogs I have there to here in the next few weeks but until then there will just be my general ramblings here.

Currently, my life feels like it's in upheaval. I just realized how much the word upheaval makes me think of throwing up and, now that I think of it, that's kind of what life has felt like for about the last month. Just a bunch of life vomit. Not that it's all been bad but it certainly could be better. You know how when you're puking your guts out and there's someone there to hold your hair? Well, it's good that you've got someone holding your hair but, in general, you wish you could be somewhere else.

So, yeah, the vomit part is that my own computer has been dead for just over a month. I'm using my husband's computer in the meantime - as are he and the 3 children - and it's just a real pain in the butt. Makes it hard to run an internet business when the only computer at your disposal is often at someone else's office all day and then you have to fight the offspring for the use of it once it does make an appearance. It's completely thrown me out of my regular routine, too, so that, in turn, has thrown everything else out of whack. Plus, the kids are home all day since it's summer. I just can't get into the swing of things yet and I've been dealing with this for the last 5 weeks! I'm sure it will all fall into place the day before school starts.

On the "holding my hair" side of things, we got to go visit family over 4th of July and we all went camping. That was uber cool as the boys had never really done "real" camping. Hahahaha...I say "real" like we were out in the middle of nowhere with a flint and a roll of duct tape. We were at a campground with real toilets and all but we were in tents and sleeping on the ground and cooking on campstoves and stuff. Anyway, we were at a lake and did wakeboarding and riding waverunners and stuff and that was completely cool. One more thing to check off my list of things I can do...drive a waverunner. Woohoo! We've also had some around home kind of fun this year like trips to the library, picking fresh raspberries, planting a garden and stuff like that.

So, the summer hasn't been a total loss and, frankly, maybe the computer crashed as a way of telling me that I needed to focus on other things for awhile, which is OK. The computer is supposed to be back on Sunday, though. Then I'll get to focus on how to pay for the repair!