Enter Laughter

Valentine Daze

2006-01-24T10:15:00.000-06:00

At last, the flu bug has been beaten into submission here. Family members are back to work and school, and I am going to go sleep for 6 hours to recover myself - LOL

Valentine’s Day is THREE WEEKS from TODAY! (All the male readers experience temporary blindness - LOL)

I’ve decorated the ol’ blog - added a countdown (I will send the code to anyone who wants it) changed the banner and colors a bit (still tweaking the colors some, it’s hard to find colors that look good and provide enough contrast to show up well.)

WIN FREE CANDY! Send in your best Valentine joke, and I will compile them into a post each Friday for a contest, and ask readers to vote for their favorite. You can post your jokes in the comments section, or e-mail them to me here:

Valentine’s Day is Tuesday February 14, so I will announce the winner on Friday, February 17. I will send the winner a free box of Russell Stover Chocolates!

Here’s one to get you started:

A young woman was taking an afternoon nap.

After she woke up, she told her husband, "I just dreamed that you gave me a pearl necklace for Valentine's Day. What do you think it means?"

"You'll know tonight." he said.

That evening, the man came home with a small package and gave it to his wife.

Delighted, she opened it--only to find a book entitled "The meaning of dreams".

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Valentine’s Day, jokes, contest, free, candy

Gas Guzzler

2006-01-22T14:15:00.000-06:00

Well, I did a dumb thing. Again. Duh - LOL Everyone here is still suffering through cold and flu symptoms. Thank you all for your kind comments and good wishes. I needed to go out and get more medications (Do they sell Nyquil in gallon jugs? LOL) It was hideously cold and windy, and my car was almost out of gasoline. Grumpily, I got out to pump it, shivering, my hands shaking. I jammed the nozzle in and turned my face away from the car because the wind was beating my hair into my face. I squeezed the trigger, latching it into the lock position, so I could put my freezing hands into my pockets and something didn’t sound right. I turned back and gasoline was spewing in every direction! I hadn’t gotten the nozzle seated properly, and instead of going into the tank, it was ricocheting back out, spraying all over me. I was drenched by the time I got it shut off, but then I had to stand there dripping, shivering and hoping I wasn't shaking enough to create a friction fire, put the nozzle in the right way, and fill the tank. I drove home with the window down because the stench was about to knock me out. (Why couldn’t my nose have STAYED stopped up? LOL) I got inside, threw my coat, clothes and shoes in a trash bag, and tossed it out on the front porch, (naked - thank gawd we live WAY out in the country LOL). I slammed the front door shut and glanced out through the glass to see all of the curious cats run over to the bag, start to sniff, then jerk away in disgust! LOL I headed in to take a long, hot bath and wash my hair, and French Fry Boy called out, “Did you get the medicine?” HE is the one who left the car with almost no gasoline in it. I opened his door just a crack (naked and gasoline drenched) stuck my head in and shot him the death-ray laser look, which I’m sure was confusing to his already fevered mind LOL He looked so pitiful lying there sick though, I didn’t say anything. He’s lucky I don’t believe in capital punishment though - LOL

Family Flued

2006-01-19T07:14:00.000-06:00

Everyone here is sick with the flu. Not bird flu, unless you count the fact that they are driving me cuckoo - LOL All home, all fussy. Welcome to Sneezy Town. Coughedy Central. Extreme Acheover. Will return at some point, when Saturday Night Fever subsides. LOL

Enter the Laughter Named to Blog Herald List

2006-01-17T07:02:00.000-06:00

Well duh on me - LOL Took the day off from the internet yesterday to spend time with family. Stupid family! LOL (Just kidding) But it did cause me to miss one of the biggest honors yet for this blog - being named to the Blog Herald’s "100 Blogs in 100 Days" list! I am speechless (which you know is a rarity - LOL) I would like to thank The Blog Herald for naming me, I am genuinely flattered and honored. Please swing by there and let him know this wasn't a huge mistake - LOL! Because I am too verklempt to say anything witty, I will reprint one of my favorite blog posts, from July 29, 2005, my birthday: DMV or Diarrheal Mahatma Voodoo Only in America could a severely flatulent white woman, a nice gentleman from India, and his Haitian wife meet in the line at a Department of Motor Vehicles office, and bond. Still suffering The War of the Bowels, I was feelin' mighty poorly, and the last thing I EVER want to do, (much less when I am suffering from diarrhea) is go to the DMV. But the new Neon had to have the taxes paid and the license purchased, because Husband must commute from the farm through a nearby small town, and the fine upstanding officers who may read this so I am not about to say anything bad about them, do tend to look for those minor infractions like one mile over the speed limit, or two minutes past the expiration of your tags. So, while Husband was sympathetic to my plight, he requested that if it were humanly possible, he wanted me to go take care of the nasty business. And nasty it was. I packed up my troubles (and Kaopectate) in my ol' kit bag (along with all of the necessary paperwork) and biled, biled, biled. The line snaked around in a zigzag pattern, disguising how long it really was. Sneaky bastards. An exotic couple were last in line when I entered the building, and were muttering to one another in accented English, about the pitiful lack of available office workers and the wife's desire to put a hex on the clerks who disappeared through a side door never to be seen again. I stepped into the space behind them and promptly passed gas. They turned, I blushed, and apologized. It was the first of many such moments. My gut ached and cramped. The line never seemed to move forward, but other weary applicants lengthened the queue. The couple in front of me turned again when an involuntary moan escaped my lips. "You sound berry bad," the kindly gentleman from India said. I nodded. Motioning to the slow-moving line and group of folks who continued to pour into the building, he asked, "is it always this crowded?" You know you're in a bad situation when a Calcutta native thinks the place is crowded. I nodded again, afraid to open my mouth, fearing a sulfurous belch might escape and combust, the room was so hot. An old man several spaces ahead of us was pretty clever. He had retrieved a chair from the hallway, and sat in it in line. Every so often, he would abruptly stand up and spout random epitaphs to no one in particular. After his pronouncement, he would sit back down, and doze off for a while. I conversed with the couple, who explained they had met in a community college class. They were very nice, and held my spot for me when I felt something heavier than gas about to escape, and dashed to the toilet. When the old man took his turn with the clerk, the nice gentleman from India retrieved his chair for me. Finally, I was able to shuffle off to beefalo. That is not a typo, it is a product sold at my next stop, the nearby meat store. It a cross between beef cattle and buffalo, high in protein, low in fat, and amusing to imagine being conceived. I drive past the buffalo ranch if I take the gravel road into town, and they are magnificent beasts to behold, but for some reason, picturing one of them fornicating with Elsie the cow, just makes me giggle. I feel a little better today, and plan to sit back and chill, 'cause it's my birthday! Best wishes to all who read!

Martin Luther King Jr. Day

2006-01-16T06:27:00.000-06:00

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Acceptance Speech,

on the occasion of the award of the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo, December 10, 1964

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. I believe that even amid today's motor bursts and whining bullets, there is still hope for a brighter tomorrow.

I believe that wounded justice, lying prostrate on the blood-flowing streets of our nations, can be lifted from this dust of shame to reign supreme among the children of men. I have the audacity to believe that peoples everywhere can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, and dignity, equality and freedom for their spirits.

I believe that what self-centered men have torn down men other-centered can build up. I still believe that one day mankind will bow before the altars of God and be crowned triumphant over war and bloodshed, and nonviolent redemptive good will proclaimed the rule of the land.

"And the lion and the lamb shall lie down together and every man shall sit under his own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid." I still believe that We Shall overcome! Complete text

Fugly Feet

2006-01-14T12:53:00.001-06:00

I have ugly feet. Really ugly. Scare small children ugly. Cause blindness in extreme cases ugly. Fugly Feet. fugly: ADJECTIVE: Inflected forms: fug·li·er, fug·li·est Vulgar Slang - Very ugly. ETYMOLOGY: Shortening of f*cking ugly. My second toes are longer than my big toes. My little toes are misshapen triangles, having spent their entire lives trying to hide under the toe they are next to. Both feet have multiple scars. Some are from breaking both ankles twice. The first time, when I was six, I broke them at the same time. Boy, wasn’t THAT a fun summer - LOL Third and fourth times around were spaced apart, but each break required surgical repair, resulting in several metal objects being implanted to stabilize the multiple fractures. This left each ankle with three scars, on the front and both sides, and made getting through airport security as much fun as having a passport that says my name is Marti al-Zawahri - LOL Some are from going barefoot every summer since I was born. By mid-July, I can walk over gravel and hot asphalt. If only there was big money in such a talent - LOL I’ve dropped things on them. Lots of things. Heavy things. Sharp things. Then there are the things that go bum in the night. That’s always me...smashing into a chair leg, a door I thought was open, or an errant vampire (Vampires hate being startled by having a klutz bump into them in the middle of the night LOL) So? So yesterday was Friday the 13th. Despite the wretched luck I’ve had all my life, I am not an extremely superstitious person. Oh sure, I would exercise the normal amount of caution - not opening an umbrella under mirrored horseshoes, but nothing truly foolish LOL Until I put on my shoes. Why, oh why (she cried out in hind-sighted anguish) didn’t I shake them? I almost ALWAYS shake my shoes out before putting them on, after hearing Husband’s tale of his time in the tropics, when he slipped his foot into a shoe that was occupied by a scorpion. But alas, yesterday, I did not. And inside the shoe was a spider. And not the itsy-bitsy spider that climbs up the waterspout, but a big, mean pissed-off brown recluse, which attacked my big toe, upon its intrusion into Spidey’s hideout. I felt the sting of the bite and yanked the shoe off, as a large red welt instantly appeared atop my toe. I shook out the shoe, and Spidey went a-runnin’. Briefly. Then said shoe met Spidey, rather forcefully, and Spidey went to that great web in the sky. Because we live in the woods, I’ve been bitten by many a brown recluse, and only required medical attention the first dozen times or so, until I built up sufficient immunity. By now, I imagine I am toxic to them LOL And so, I spent the rest of the day shoeless and swollen. There is great improvement today, and the welt has reduced to a small, blistery bump. Like all brown recluse bites, it will leave a sunken divot in the skin. One more bit-o-ugly. LOL The moral of this story is: It may be fun to shake your booty, but if you don’t want swollen toes, shake your shoes.

Paraskevidekatriaphobia

2006-01-13T05:25:00.000-06:00

Today is Friday the 13th. (All months whose first day falls on a Sunday will contain a Friday the 13.) Are you superstitious? I’m starting to be, as my hard drive is making a very strange noise. If you don’t hear from me again any time soon, you’ll know what happened. LOL I personally believe it is bad luck to walk under a black cat - LOL Busy, busy day scheduled, so I am just doing some reprints and links today - sorry - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Paraskevidekatriaphobia. That’s the proper term for the fear of Friday the 13th. OK, all together now, pah-ras-ke-vey-de-kah-tri-ah-fo-bi-ya. It is such a well-known phobia that there is even to be a Paraskavedekatriaphobia Clinic as part of the Change That’s Right Now Phobia Clinic. The clinic’s own literature on the Internet claims, "Our practitioners will teach you to regain control of your emotions and conquer your Paraskavedekatriaphobia. Working with us, you'll rapidly train your unconscious mind to connect different, positive feelings to the stimuli that triggers the phobia." The much, much simpler word, "triskaidekaphobia" refers only to a fear of the number 13. Ever wonder why hotels and other high-rise buildings go straight from the 12th floor to the 14th floor? It’s because the number 13 is a widely accepted unlucky one. But why the link to Friday? There are multiple legends and stories. The most common is that the Last Supper before Jesus Christ’s death, which, including Jesus, had 13 people at the table; and then Jesus was crucified on a Friday, which has come to be known Good Friday. An ancient Viking legend tells a story of 12 Norse gods preparing to partake in a feast in the Norse "heaven" of Valhalla. A 13th god, Loki, obviously a bit displeased at not being included, broke into the feast and killed fellow deity Balder. In Spanish-speaking cultures, when the 13th falls on a Tuesday, that is considered the unlucky tandem. Legend says it bodes ill to begin a journey, or most notably, a marriage, on a Tuesday the 13th. Whatever the rationale, the impact is actually measurable. The Stress Management Center and Phobia Institute in Asheville, N.C., says each Friday the 13th sees an approximate $800-$900 million of business revenue lost around the nation. People who won’t drive, won’t go into work, won’t go out in public, or won’t take any other risks account for those losses. According to the Paraskavedekatriaphobia Clinic, the cause of the Fear of Friday the 13th likely spawns from someone’s experiences, or even witnessing someone else’s experiences, with a traumatic event which happens to take place or be linked with a Friday the 13th. Someone’s unconscious mind then attaches emotions and safeguards to that date in order to feel safe. For those who aren’t themselves because of paraskavedekatriaphobia, after today, 2006 will have only one more Friday the 13th, in October. Source - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I found a pretty amusing page full of strange superstitions - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Even the rich, famous and infamous are not immune to the power of 13. Adolf Hitler, Victor Hugo and Stephen King are all reputed to have had a fear of 13. Friday the 13th Superstitions * IF a woman has a birthday on Friday 13 she will marry and have a child within the year. * IT is unlucky to be married on the 13th. * IF a funeral procession passes a person on Friday 13 he or she will be condemned to death. * DON'T go out at night on Friday 13 or you'll have convulsions that night. * DON'T sit 13 people at a table on Friday 13, one will become seriously ill. * DON'T cut your hair on Friday 13 or someone in your family will die. * DON'T wear black on Friday 13 or you'll soon wear it again in mourning. * IF a child is born on Friday 13 he will be unlucky all his life. * A CHILD born on Friday 13 will have a short life. * A CHILD born on Friday 13 must carry a rabbit's foot from an animal killed at midnight by a cross-eyed farmer. Otherwise the child will bring bad luck to the family. Superstitious Behavior * THROW salt over your shoulder if you spill it. * CROSSED knives at a table mean a quarrel. * BREAKING a mirror brings seven years' bad luck. * DON'T put new shoes on a table. * A WILD bird in the house means a death in the family. * A PAINTING which falls off the wall for no apparent reason means a death in the family. * BAD luck comes in threes. * YOU should never give anyone a new purse without putting a coin in it first - and they'll never be poor. * DON'T put an umbrella up indoors. * A BLACK cat crossing your path is good luck or bad luck - depending on where you live. * MAGPIES can be considered unlucky - the rhyme goes "one for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told". * TOUCH your collar if you see an ambulance. * SAY "rabbits, rabbits, rabbits" for luck when you first get up on the morning of the first of each month. Source

Invisible Lurkers! It's De-Lurking Week

2006-01-12T09:46:00.000-06:00

I know you’re out there! Allie allie in free! LOL

It’s De-Lurking Week! OK, the week is four sevenths over, so I’m a little behind - LOL Saw this at Theresa’s blog: Psst. Hey you! Yeah, you, the lurker in the back! Come here a second. It’s De-lurking Week around these parts. Did you know that? It looks like it was started by Sheryl at Paper Napkin: This is the week you've been waiting for! Or not! De-lurking week! Last year we just had a measly 24 hours, and if you were stuck in a meeting, or your server crashed, or you live on the other side of the world, you missed it (booo). Plus your fingers may have become numb from all the typing you tried to cram in 24 hours. So this year we're giving you a whole week to come out of the closet (so to speak).

Soooo.... If you read this blog, but don’t comment, PLEASE pleasepleaseplease do!

Be brave! Be bold! Have your say! (Even if it’s just "hi" LOL)

(Regular posters welcome to comment too - LOL!)

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At Blog Explosion, they have a blog rental program, and this week (again I am slightly tardy, my apologies) I am renting space at Motherhood Uncensored.

She’s great, going through the same things all mothers go through, dealing with the lack of sleep, body changes, finding ways to entertain a toddler that doesn’t include chainsaws or barbiturates LOL

So stop by and give her a read. Tell her Marti sent you, so she’ll be indebted to me LOL (snort - just kidding)

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The sun is shining today! It is supposed to warm up into the 50’s, so I am going to get out and enjoy it! Have a great day everyone!

Tag Time

2006-01-11T13:45:00.000-06:00

I’ve been hit! Ahhhugh! (Imagine melodramatic clutching of chest followed by much groaning and slow-motion falling to floor, with big finish of raising hand shakily before that last dying gasp) LOL Ribbiticus over at Pond Perspective has tagged me with a meme. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The rules/procedures are as follows: The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits of yourself," and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don't forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says, "You are tagged" (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Here are mine: 1. I use ungodly amounts of sugar in my coffee. I have a giant cup, and I put (gasp) EIGHT spoonfuls of sugar in it. No cream though - LOL 2. I make all the dollar bills in my wallet face the same way LOL If I get change from someplace, I will not make the people in line behind me wait, but when I get to the car, I will pull all of the paper money out, arrange them all facing the same way (and upright, with their heads not upside down LOL) and in incremental order, smallest denominations at the front. 3. I don’t like clowns - they creep me out - LOL 4. I don’t like squishy vegetables. Peas disgust me and they haven’t printed enough money to get me to eat a lima bean - LOL 5. I adore the Sunday paper. I read almost every section. I only read a paper once a week, so I make the most of it - LOL OK. Yeah, I know, kinda crazy. (Crowd murmurs, "kinda???") LOL - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - My choices to pass this on to are: 1. Booklvr = Books and Random Thoughts 2. Sudiegirl = Musings of a Chick 3. Michael = It Occurred to Me 4. Rocky = Rocky Road Scholar 5. Colleen =Musings From the Edge Best wishes to all!

Holy Sleet!

2006-01-10T14:15:00.000-06:00

It’s raining. No, it’s snowing. No, snow doesn’t bounce when it hits something. It’s sleeting! Took the boy to work up at McDonald’s because neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor dark of night shall keep the burgers from their appointed pounds LOL Road conditions are deteriorating. Steep hill coming back home proved daunting, particularly for the not-so-hot-shot in a pickup truck in front of me, who had been behind me when we rounded the corner at the intersection down in town. A corner I took at a reasonable speed because I could feel the rear wheels spinning. A corner I saw him (in my rear-view mirror) slide sideways around. Once we were both travelling southwards, he decided to pass me. On a slick two-lane road. Covering my car with a spray of road slime. Fine, I’d rather have a lunatic driver in front of me, where I can keep an eye on him - LOL He barreled around me, no doubt feeling pretty smug. Then we reached the hill. About a third of the way up, he started fishtailing. His rear tires were plowing into the asphalt, spewing an arc of slush behind him, yet his speed continued to diminish. I had allowed a fair amount of distance to build up between us, so I watched, bemused, from a distance. Two thirds of the way up, he was doomed. He couldn’t make it, and his truck ceased all forward motion. Fortunately, there were no other vehicles on the road, so while he sat there pounding his hands on the steering wheel and gunning his engine, my driving-at-a-reasonable-speed-for-the-conditions self cruised past him. (snicker) Icicles are starting to form on the wrought iron park bench out in the yard, and it looks really neat, but you'll just have to take my word for it, 'cause there ain't no way I am goin' out there to take a picture, sorry. LOL The metal forms the shape of an angel though, so I guess that makes this (get ready to groan)...Holy Sleet!

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When I started this blog, I called it "DigitalDoorway", because that is my domain name, and my ID at E-Bay and Amazon. I tacked on "Enter the Laughter" because this place is supposed to be amusing LOL I am shortening it to just "Enter the Laughter" because it more accurately reflects what this place is about, and it is easier to type LOL I changed the title in the banner photo and page code, and I am trying to make the changes at link-y places like BlogRoll LOL If you have links to me (please God, let someone have links to me LOL) please shorten the name to Enter the Laughter. Thanks!

MONDAY MISCHIEF

2006-01-09T14:45:00.000-06:00

These are excuse notes from parents collected by schools from all over the country: 1) Please excuse Lisa for being absent. She was sick and I had her shot. 2) Dear School: Please excuse John being absent on Jan. 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, and also 33. 3) Please excuse Roland from P.E. for a few days. Yesterday he fell out of a tree and misplaced his hip. 4) John has been absent because he had two teeth taken out of his face. 5) Carlos was absent yesterday because he was playing football. He was hurt in the growing part. 6) Please excuse Pedro from being absent yesterday. He had (diahre) (dyrea) (direathe) the runs. [Words in ( )'s were crossed out.] 7) Irving was absent yesterday because he missed his bust. 8) Please excuse Jimmy for being. It was his father's fault. 9) Please excuse Jennifer for missing school yesterday. We forgot to get the Sunday paper off the porch, and when we found it Monday, we thought it was Sunday. 10) Sally won't be in school a week from Friday. We have to attend her funeral. 11) Please excuse Mary for being absent yesterday. She was in bed with gramps. 12) Please excuse little Jimmy for not being in school yesterday. His father is gone and I could not get him ready because I was in bed with the doctor.

Too Weird for Words

2006-01-07T13:02:00.000-06:00

The other day, Husband came home from work and said, "There’s a bunch of Smurfs down by the mailbox". Now there’s one you don’t hear every day - LOL Were we under attack by an army of cartoon characters? Would we soon be overrun by Powerpuff Girls and Transformers? Was Sponge Bob Square Pants heading up the driveway wielding an Uzi? I requested he elaborate. "I don’t know what they are. There’s a bunch of these little toys on the ground all around the post." On the ground, eh? Ah! Already mowed down by our anti-animation home security device! (Wipes brow in relief - and they all laughed when we bought it) LOL Well, I had to go see. It was an odd sight. There were three of these:

Click to enlarge. Use back button to return

Lying there like drunken sailors, they were. Once I stopped laughing, I picked them up and brought them back to the house.

I questioned the kids, both of whom disavowed any knowledge whatsoever of ever having seen these or knowing anything about them.

So it remains a mystery.

They’re not Smurfs. They say "Mr. Bubble" on them, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what that weird thing on his side is. LOL

I stuck one on top of my monitor because it makes me giggle every time I look at it.

If they are wanted by the law, let me know. Especially if there’s a reward - LOL

THINGS I'VE LEARNED

2006-01-06T12:21:00.000-06:00

Today is Eldest Son's birthday. Happy Birthday sweatie! (His fiancée’s nickname for him, after they laughed together upon seeing a misspelled graffiti proclaiming, "I love you sweatheart" LOL) For those who already have children past this age, this is hilarious. For those who have children this age, this is not funny. For those who have children nearing this age, this is a warning. For those who have not yet had children, this is birth control. Things I've learned from my children: 1. A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep. 2. If you spray hairspray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite. 3. Certain Legos will pass through the digestive tract of a 4-year old. 4. If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42-pound boy wearing Batman underwear and a Superman cape. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20x20-ft. room. 5. You should not throw baseballs up in the air when the ceiling fan is on. When using a ceiling fan as a bat, you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way. 6. The glass in windows (even double-pane) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan. 7. When you hear the toilet flush and the words "uh oh," it's already too late. 8. Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it. 9. A six-year old can start a fire with a flint rock even though a 36-year old man says they can only do it in the movies. 10. Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.

One of Those Days

2006-01-05T06:45:00.000-06:00

What day of the week is it again?

Courtesy of the mind of Salvador Dali

Ever since the "Big Break" during which Daughter had two solid weeks off, Husband had several "comp days" to take, and even French Fry boy’s Mickey D schedule was all out of whack, I’ve lost track of time. And I was doing so well with Earth time. Snarkles. (Oops...it is against the aliens-posing-as-humans rules to mention the whole aliens-posing-as-humans thing. Better watch myself more closely, or the Illuminati will be all over me. LOL) I’ve been sleeping and waking at odd hours. I’ve sent friends letters that make no sense. I’ve been saying inappropriate things. If I said anything to anyone that they found offensive, I apologize. I may not have meant it - LOL I’ve become paranoid (snaps head sharply towards door LOL). Yesterday, I was at my breaking point, and decided to take a rare afternoon nap. Slept like a stone. Husband came in and fell asleep too. When I awoke it was dark and my bladder was ready to burst. I scurried (as much as a woman who has broken both lower legs twice and has matching metal ankles, can "scurry" LOL) to the adjacent bathroom. I left the light off, as I assumed it was the middle of the night and we all know it is easier to go back to bed and fall back asleep if we don’t turn the light on. Another one of those dumb "human rules" LOL As I sat rubbing my eyes, I glanced out at the glowing red digits of the alarm clock on the head of the bed. 6:50. I frowned. Why was husband still here? He usually leaves for work before now. I called out, "Don’t you have to work today?" He awoke with a start. "Wha...?" I repeated, "Don’t you have to work today?" He replied, "I’ve already BEEN to work today." I frowned again, until the light slowly dawned (on me, not outside LOL) Oh gawd. They’ve messed with the space/time continuum again. No wait, that’s not scheduled until...ooops, never mind. No, it was something else. More function slowly returned to my brain, and I realized it was not morning. I’d been sleeping for about 2 hours - LOL So now I’m up again. I think it’s morning in America. No wait, that was with Ronald Reagan back in the 80’s. I love the 80’s. And rock and roll. And twins. No wait...am I going off on a tangent again? (Glances at tangent meter, needle is in red, and the chip in my neck is getting warm.) We’re in big trouble now LOL

Novelty

2006-01-04T06:28:00.000-06:00

Do you find blogging cathartic? In other words, if you write about an emotional event, does it help you come to terms with it? (Or make you want to go find intoxicants? LOL) Does reading about other bloggers’ experiences help you sort out your own problems/hangups/let-downs/worries? (Or make you want to go find intoxicants? LOL) I know a LOT of you bloggers are writing a novel (individually of course...it’s not like there is a giant room somewhere that a bunch of bloggers gather in, and attempt to produce a manuscript, although that might be pretty funny LOL) So tell me, when you are writing a sad, depressing, or angry scene, do you get sad/angry/depressed? It’s necessary to get into the mind of your fictional character to effectively write their words and actions, and I find myself getting caught up in it - LOL I am at a point in my unfinished novel where my main character has been betrayed, and I tell ya, I am paranoid about everything now - LOL I look at the grocery clerks suspiciously, wondering if they are out to somehow stab me in the back! So tell me (please please please please please LOL) does this happen to other writers? Does writing your novel affect your blogging, or vice versa?

Water Into Whine

2006-01-03T13:43:00.000-06:00

With the upcoming nuptials, I am attempting to "get healthy" (code for lose weight/get in shape/make my skin look younger LOL).

I know that drinking lots of water is a good thing. It fills up the tummy, hydrates the body, and provides exercise with those every-twenty-minutes trips to the restroom. (I jog on the way - LOL)

So away I go with the H2O - LOL!

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Please pardon my early morning rant, Blogger is all better now (had to slap it around a bit - LOL)

I realize this is a free service. I also realize that it provided by the uber-mega-gazillionaires who own Google. This is not some Mom and Pop operation, financed by selling empty aluminum cans to the recycler. LOL

And we’re not talking about first year DeVry students either. These guys have money coming out their sweat glands and enough technical knowledge to map the entire friggin’ earth.

So can’t you boys make sure that Blogger works properly?

{{Clears throat}} Rant over. LOL

UPDATE - Rant NOT over. You hornswagglin’, no count, dirty dog, mud-suckin’ varmit! Worked for me FIVE MINUTES AGO! But now you ERROR me again!?! Why I oughta twist your scrawny little cyberneck into origami! You’ve done riled me up good this time! (Quick, does anyone know how many calories a good rant burns up? 'Cause I can go on...LOL)

This is hideously frustrating though.....

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On to new business. You are getting sleepy...v-e-r-y sleepy.

You want to buy puzzles...l-o-t-s of jigsaw puzzles ROTF

(Hey, I gotta pay for Christmas - at least I’m not begging outright...OK, I am begging outright ~snort~)

No pressure, (please please please please please LOL) but I do have some lovely puzzles at E-Bay.

More arriving daily LOL! You can see them by checking out the little thumbnail pictures in the sidebar.

My Visa bill and I sincerely appreciate it! LOL

To make up for the begging...errr...request (LOL) I will leave you with an auction joke:

The Stradivarius and Rembrandt

A man bought at an auction, for what he thought a reasonable price, both a Stradivarius and a Rembrandt. He was very happy with them, since the price he paid was so low, for objects made by such famous people. He decided to go to an appraiser and have them officially valued. The appraiser said: "Well sir, indeed you have a Stradivarius and a Rembrandt, but it's a pity that Stradivarius couldn't paint and Rembrandt couldn't build violins."

Blogger Blues

2006-01-03T05:04:00.001-06:00

Argh. I am trying to update the template here, since this is January 3, it seems a bit hung over to have a banner proclaiming "Happy New Year!" Well, things AIN'T so happy here, as I am getting an error message (which is right up there with spam on the "Fun Things To Get On My Blog" list). I do not speak geek. I do not know what "001 java.io.IOException: " is, or what it means, other than it is 5 AM and having it smack me awake is less than pleasant. So I will see if it will accept THIS post. *************** A wiesguy, huh? New error message = 001 java.io.IOException: No space left on deviceblog I don't know what that means either. Are you just making fun of my ignorance? I'm going for coffee now. I'm not looking Blogger, so if you need to put something back, or fix a mistake you are ashamed to admit, do it now. I won't tell.

Wow

2006-01-02T15:30:00.000-06:00

So here it is. 2006. Thank you to all the commenters, who came back by. It was great to see you again. Door’s always open, pop in anytime. Happy Birthday to "Enter the Laughter". ETL: {{Blog looks back at me, bleary-eyed, after a weekend of hearty partying}} "Not so loud. I’m mad at you. You didn’t talk to me every day. You didn’t give me much to wear - three or four different skins in an entire YEAR? And that first one - geez everybody in the blogosphere was wearing THAT!" {{Sniffles haughtily. . . shivers at the memory of Blogger Scribe theme. . .coughs up some old feed}} Me: Sorry, I didn’t know how to do any of that when I started. ETL: "I expect more out of you this year, ya hear me? Nothing lame either! I want fun! I want entertainment! Go read some of those blogs that won awards! Did I win any awards? Was I even NOMINATED? NO! And it’s your fault!" {{Spits a sidebar link at me}} "You’ve got to work it girl!" {{Shakes banner booty at me}} Me: OK! I get it! You want more writing. You want more regular updates. You want more links. ETL: "Golden links baby!" {{Preens, polishes RSS.}} Me: I’ll try to do better. ETL: {{Imitates voice of Jedi Master Yoda}} "Try? There is no try! DO!" Me: But I don’t live a real exciting life, every day isn’t filled with adventure. ETL: "Sex it up! Sex sells - tell them about the time you -" Me: {{Muffles ETL}} No! ETL: {{Shakes loose}} "Well then, talk politics, or technology! They eat that stuff up!" Me: Sigh. It’s just not me. After all, you’re not called Enter the SexZone, Or Enter the Beltway, and I don’t understand enough about technology. I just write funny stuff. ETL: "Ok! Ok! There’s enough doom and gloom out there. Make ‘em laugh" {{Starts imitating Donald O’Connor, singing and dancing}}:

Now you could study Shakespeare and be quite elite And you can charm the critics and have nothin' to eat Just slip on a banana peel The world is at your feet Make 'em laugh Make 'em laugh Make 'em laugh

Me: {{Giggle}} ETL: "Aw, geez! How am I ever going to make the Webbies, or the BoBs, or get mentioned in The Blog Herald, if all you can do is giggle?" Me: Well, I did thank all of those nice people who commented. Did you see how many of them came back by? ETL: {{Pouting subsides}} "Yeah, that was sweet. {{Spits bytes into its cyber hand, extends it to shake}} "Deal?" Me: Deal.

Thank you.

2005-12-31T14:00:00.001-06:00

Although this blog began January 1, 2005, I was writing to myself for the first six months, as I had no idea about how to visit other blogs, leave comments, or get traffic. Duh on me - LOL So I would like to thank everyone who eventually came to visit, and especially those of you kind enough to leave comments. (These are in random order, not "most favored" or "most comments" or "most likely to get me noticed" LOL) Non-bloggers Kel = friend without a blog Robbie = friend without a blog Steph= friend without a blog MA = friend without a blog Sandy= EverAfter Weddings (not a blog - she does weddings - LOL)

Bloggers Theresa = This Mom Blogs Nicole = Accidental Housekeeper Cavan = Blurred Line Blog Cheryl = Grrrrll Power Buffi = Sugar Mommy Trudie = Ain’t it Amazing? Kathy = Adventures in Online Selling Laina = Tales of a Hillbilly Princess Courtney = My thoughts...or lack thereof

Hot Coffee = 7h075 Stacey = Stac Space

Cpt Pyro = Life as I know it

GrandPooOfAwesome = It’s All Relative? Wil = The Daily Snooze

Dddragon = Is Anything Truly Random?

TJ = Zazzafooky

Jamie Dawn = Jamie Dawn’s Mindless Blather

Complimenting Commenter = Complimenting Commenter

Shylah = Simply Shylah

Jim = Genuine

Shea = A California Girl in Kansas

Stephanie = The Daily Vegetable

Natalie = Natalie Hates You

Bry-2000 = Purple Toupee

Perky = The 6 SenSeS of the InSane

Colleen = Musings from the Edge

Phil = Prairie Apologist

Scott = Swept Over

Willie =Arkham Asylum

Lesser Lumpkin = Lumpy’s Oddyssey

Deni = Last Girl on Earth

Suzie = Turtle, Turtle

KristieD = Just Venting

Village Idiot = Kicked Puppies

Bebe = Serenity NOW

Catherine = Just Me Rambling

Darren = Problogger

Soffy O = The Weather

SillyBahrainiGirl = Silly Bahraini Girl

JT = Make Mac Games

Thom Singer = Some Assembly Required

Hart = Pet Lvr

Mellon Collie = Yacketayakking

Sudie Girl = Musings of a Chick

Dilated = Nu Tang

Paige = No Longer Newlyweds

Clive = Gone Away

Mauser*girl = The Adventures of Mauser Girl

Veggie Babe = HP Sauce

Michael = It Occurred to Me

Blog Patrol = The Blog Patrol

Glyn = Zaphod's Heads

Lisa = How to be a Kid Again

David B. = The Whole Note

Gienna = Gienna Writes

Shel = Naked Conversations

Gene = Old Horsetail Snake

Peter Chianca = The At Large Blog

Ivy = Thoughts That Keep Me Awake

Stuart = My Kids' Dad

K Dubs = Reflections of a Not So Ordinary Mom

Faira = Daffodils and Dragons

Ahamed = The World of Ahamed

Rocky = Rocky Road Scholar

Luka = Incogblogo

Empress Maruja = The Random Lives Of Empress Maruja

Rhys = Rhysently

Lucinda = Suburban Turmoil

Orikinla Osinachi = Nigerian Times

Giuli = Dishwasher Safe

Ananke = Confused and Amused

Cube = The BLOG

Pure Mood = Just Pure Mood

Manjusha = Far From Perfect

OldOldLady Of The Hills = Here in the Hills

Chas = Bend it Like a Banana

Booklover = Books and Random Thoughts

Monkey = The Monkey Cage

Kevin = Poop’d Culture

David = Ripples

J’s Girlfriend = Sometimes in my Head

Lee Pletzers =Author Lee Pletzers

Vanathi = Y Not?

Jean-Luc Picard = Captain Picard’s Journal

All U Need 2 No = All U Need 2 No

Deborah = Deborah Woehr

Ms. Cornelius = A Shrewdness of Apes

Carly = STFU Carly

Stargazer = Stargazer's Space

Carol = Carol:Perpetual Motion

Tony = Tony’s Kansas City

Mac = Posthuman Blues

FTS = Follow That Star

Ribbiticus = Pond Perspective

Uisce = Whiskey Talking

-------------------------------------- I got kind of loopy going through all of the comments trying to catch everyone’s name and link - Hope I didn’t miss anyone! -------------------------------------- I recently took at shot at Blog Explosion’s "Rent My Blog," and would like to thank my sponsors: Ribbiticus at Pond Perspective Kel at Mama? MAMA COME HERE! Amy at Amy’s Musings ------------------------------------- The picture of Father Time in my banner courtesy of Novareinna - visit for fun facts about New Years! ------------------------------------- The people down in town who set up an inflatable snow globe with a snowman inside. It was placed on uneven ground, and the blower that is supposed to circulate the "snow" inside, spews the little bits out right beside the snowman’s head. It gives the snowman the appearance of barfing, and we laugh hysterically every time we drove by! LOL! ------------------------------------ Blogger for adding word verification. Sometimes it’s a pain, but it stopped most of the spammers (hisses vehemently at all things spam - LOL) Plus sometimes I get a real chuckle out of the "almost-a-word" combinations, which oddly often fit the nature of the post. I left a comment at a post regarding the commercialization of Christmas, and the word verification was, "bahmbg" LOL! ----------------------------------- I would like to thank everyone who has linked to me, or recommended my blog, or mentioned me anywhere, anytime, ever. LOL -----------------------------------

Best Wishes to EVERYONE for a glorious New Year!

Christmas 2005 Part Three

2005-12-29T10:10:00.000-06:00

Thus our family was blessed with the best gift in the world. Love. A new person to hug, to laugh with, to help plot world domination - LOL She is beautiful, charming, intelligent, funny and caring. Her gift request from my son was a donation to Doctors Without Borders. When I had adequately repaired my makeup, (God Bless the inventor of waterproof mascara LOL) we sallied forth to our last stop, my husband's parents'. They’re a hoot and a half in their own right. Still spry and hilarious in their 80’s, they greeted us with smiles and a crackling fire (in the fireplace, unlike a friend found years ago, when a mentally unbalanced relative set her bathroom on fire trying to sneak a cigarette. Nothing says Christmas like a blazing toilet - LOL!) Eldest Son and Steady Girlfriend/Now Fiancée arrived about an hour after us, adequate time for us to open gifts and squirm with worry that one of our youngens would spill the beans - LOL Grandma had just suggested a game of bingo when they arrived, which was postponed for more greeting/gift opening. Eldest Son gave his grandmother......a bingo set. It was fate I tells ya, fate - LOL So bingo we played, with all "in-the-know" wondering when the proclamation would come, glancing surreptitiously at the engagement ring. The game can get ruthless when you’re playing for a grand prize of Russell Stover Chocolates. Luckily, no one was stabbed (not this year LOL) Eldest Son lost repeatedly, and I commented, "Lucky in love, unlucky at bingo," which earned me a tight-lipped, evil glance. I smiled sweetly. We ate, then retired to the living room, filled with good cheer and ham. Small talk and increasingly less-subtle staring at the left hand of Steady Girlfriend/Now Fiancée ensued until The Big Announcement came. I cried again. Duh. Hugs all ‘round. More tear-wiping, good wishes and LOTS of questions later, (sorry darlin’, we’re a nosey bunch LOL) everyone is smiling, happy and content. Wedding date is not scheduled, estimated for next fall. Adequate time for liposuction and face peel, I think - LOL So much of life is attitude. I have suffered much, yet I smile at each new morning. My New Year’s Wish to all of you is for peace, joy and happiness. I leave you with these words of wisdom: There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved. George Sand Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face. Victor Hugo (1802 - 1885) The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. John Milton While we are focusing on fear, worry, or hate, it is not possible for us to be experiencing happiness, enthusiasm or love. Bo Bennett, Year to Success If we couldn't laugh, we would all go insane. Jimmy Buffett Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. It is far better to take things as they come along with patience and equanimity. Carl Jung In the depths of winter I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer. Albert Camus Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy. Anne Frank People are just as happy as they make up their minds to be. Abraham Lincoln To have joy one must share it. Happiness was born a twin. Lord Byron A pessimist is one who makes difficulties of his opportunities and an optimist is one who makes opportunities of his difficulties. Harry Truman This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24 When written in Chinese the word "crisis" is composed of two characters - one represents danger and the other represents opportunity. John F. Kennedy, address, April 12, 1959 Those who wish to sing, always find a song. Swedish proverb True happiness comes from the joy of deeds well done, the zest of creating things new. Antoine de Saint-Exupery An inexhaustible good nature is one of the most precious gifts of heaven, spreading itself like oil over the troubled sea of thought, and keeping the mind smooth and equable in the roughest weather. Washington Irving You can complain because roses have thorns, or you can rejoice because thorns have roses. Ziggy No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit. Helen Keller Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence. Aristotle Remember, happiness doesn't depend upon who you are or what you have, it depends solely upon what you think. Dale Carnegie She would rather light candles than curse the darkness and her glow has warmed the world. Adlai Stevenson, Eulogy of Eleanor Roosevelt, November 7, 1962 (I want this one as MY eulogy - LOL)

Christmas 2005 Part Two

2005-12-28T06:30:00.000-06:00

We managed to surprise and delight each family member, a miracle right up there with Jesus’ birth. (Thunder rumbles in the distance...OK, I get it, back off of the comparisons to the Lord - Sorry - LOL) There IS instant karma in seeing gifts make their recipients happy though, and Husband puts his arm around me, and we share a knowing smile as we watch their shining faces light up. Then it is off to visit. Over the river and through the sprawling subdivisions, to Eldest Son’s house we go. He shares an abode with a cast of characters worthy of the wildest sit-com writer’s imagination. Males, females, feline and canine all happily reside in the split-level funhouse. They have decorated extensively, and filled one another’s stockings with kindergarten toys. There is something magical about seeing a tattooed, eyebrow-pierced young man sitting cross-legged on the floor, giggling over a coloring book. Eldest Son learned deviousness and trickery at his mother’s knee, and we end up giving one another presents we had questioned about as possible gifts for others. "Do you think Dad would like...?" I had asked weeks earlier, and reading his expression of, "Yeah, heck, I’d like that," it did indeed become his gift. He had directed me to a website and asked if the items would be suitable for his younger brother and sister. My eager response earned Husband and I those gifts - LOL Eldest Son gave Steady Girlfriend a baseball jersey emblazoned with "Sweatheart" and she in turn gave him a gift engraved with "I love you, sweatheart". They explained having chuckled mightily over a book of photographs of misspelled graffiti, and how they'd laughed that some urban Lothario had emblazoned a bridge with, "I love you, sweatheart". They had picked it up as their own private endearment. A while back, Eldest Son had taken Steady Girlfriend to New York City, to see her favorite band, U2, in concert. They spent a week there, and it rained six of the seven days. He brought his laptop out to exhibit photographs they had taken. The two of them started describing the scenarios of each picture, laughing together, sharing a secret smile, and my throat began to clutch up. I’m such a sap anyway, I cry at sad movies, happy events, and baby food commercials - LOL Throw in the sentimentality of Christmas, and I am a fountain. But there was something so. . .dare I say, "precious" about their reminiscences. The way they giggled at being drenched at every turn, the joy they took in one another’s company, that made the inclement weather irrelevant. They had delighted in seeing things...not only for the first time, but also as a shared experience. They had taken the elevator to the top of the Empire State Building, and walked out on the deck, even though the rain and fog had made visibility near zero. They had felt the wind sway the building. Then our son, our firstborn, had truly rocked the world, and gotten down on one knee and proposed. The small crowd of dampened tourists cheered when she accepted his ring, and his mother cried like a baby when they told us the tale. Steady Girlfriend/Now Fiancée held out her delicate hand to display the engagement ring. It was lovely, she is lovely, and I am a salt lick, so drenched in happy tears. To be continued.........

Christmas 2005 Part One

2005-12-27T09:01:00.000-06:00

Ah, Christmas has passed. Like a kidney stone. Just kidding, it was great. We were blessed to have all three of our children, plus my husband’s parents together on Christmas Day. The day began at home. When your “baby” is 16, it is not longer the youngens tugging on the covers at 5 AM to awaken their parents, but rather two weary but smiling adults, sipping coffee and glancing periodically towards the rooms of their slumbering progeny. Husband questions, “Should we wake them up?” I say I have an idea. He looks at me questioningly. He knows me too well. I reassure him it does not involve ice cubes or chainsaws. LOL I bake crescent rolls.

You have to understand this family’s love of crescent rolls. A platter of crescent rolls can vanish quicker than St. Nick up the chimney. Don’t blink, or you will be roll-less. The timer goes off, and I scurry into the kitchen. I pull the baking sheet out, and hand Husband an oven mitt and hot roll. “Take this into Daughter’s room and wave it under her nose,” I suggest. I do the same with Middle Son. Nostrils flare, eyes pop open. Rolls are tantalizingly withdrawn to doorways. Nothing says Christmas like baiting your children with pastry. LOL They join us and we deliver the goods. Biscuit bits and sleep sand mingle as they rub their eyes. To be continued.........

Merry Christmas Bloggers!

2005-12-24T07:54:00.000-06:00

Best wishes to all of my fellow bloggers for a Merry Christmas!

May peace and love fill your hearts and souls, May we not be spammed by comment trolls.

May our posts be witty, our thoughts delight, May words we type, some thought ignite.

May truth and hope we all embrace, Blogs make the world a better place!

Christmas

KEN'S LETTER TO SANTA

2005-12-21T11:15:00.000-06:00

Dear Santa, I understand that one of my colleagues has petitioned you for changes in her contract, specifically asking for anatomical and career changes. In addition, it is my understanding that disparaging remarks were made about me, my ability to please, and some of my fashion choices. I would like to take this opportunity to inform you of some issues concerning Ms. Barbie, and some of my own needs and desires. First of all, I along with several other colleagues feel Barbie DOES NOT deserve preferential treatment - the bitch has EVERYTHING! Myself, Joe, Stacey, Skipper, and Raggedy Ann & Andy, DO NOT have a dream house, Corvette, evening gowns, and in some cases, the ability to change our hairstyle. I personally have 3 outfits which I am forced to mix and match at great length. My decision to accessorize my outfits with an earring was my decision and reflects my lifestyle choice. I, too, would like a change in my career. Have you considered :"Decorator Ken", "Beauty Salon Ken", or "Out of Work Actor Ken"? In addition, there are several other avenues which could be considered such as: "S&M Ken," "Bear Ken", or "Master Ken". These would more accurately reflect my desires and perhaps open new markets. And as for Barbie needing bendable arms so she can "push me away", I need bendable knees so I can kick that bitch to the curb. Bendable knees would also be helpful for me in other situations-we've talked about this issue before. In closing, I would like to point out that any further concessions to the blond bimbo from hell will result in action taken by myself and others. PS. Barbie can forget about having G I Joe - he's mine, at least that is what he said last night. Sincerely, Ken ********************** Good grief! Two posts in one day from me - LOL! Christmas

WHY THE ANGEL IS ATOP THE CHRISTMAS TREE

2005-12-21T06:00:00.000-06:00

Not long ago Santa was getting ready for his annual trip. . .but there were problems every where. . . four of the elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones so Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule. . .then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her mum was coming to visit. . . This stressed Santa even more. . .when he went to harness the reindeer he found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out heaven knows where. . .more stress. And then, when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards on the sleigh cracked and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered all the toys. . . Frustrated Santa went into the house for a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey. . .but he found that the elves had hit the liquor cupboard and there was nothing there to drink. . .and in his frustration he dropped the coffee pot and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. . . he went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw it was made from. Just then the doorbell rang and Santa cussed on his way to the door. . .he opened the door and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. The angel said: Santa, where would you like to put this Christmas tree?? And that, my friends, is how the little angel came to be on top of the Christmas tree. . . Christmas

The Week Before Christmas

2005-12-18T12:21:00.000-06:00

‘Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the place, There was garland to hang, dust bunnies to chase. The greetings were stamped, addressed with great care, In hopes that the mail carrier soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of vid-yo games danced in their heads; I am in my sweatsuit, with presents to wrap, Tape’s stuck to my fingers, I wish I could nap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the couch to see what’s the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a cat who’s in heat, and four suitors, sincere. With a hiss and a squall, she darted away, Leaving all of the boy cats, to start a big fray. More rapid than eagles the male cats, they came, And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; "Now Furball! Now Havoc! Now Shadow and Koes! Y’all better scatter, or I’ll get the hose!" "To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, When met with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the house-top the felines they climbed, With hearts full of lust, my intrusion ill-timed. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The howling and scratching, occasional woof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, I smiled, ‘cause in springtime, kittens will abound. They’ll be dressed all in fur, darting, dashing about, They’ll knock over dishes, I’ll try not to shout. A bundle of joy they will bring to our house And we’ll never worry ‘bout having a mouse. But work! Oh my, there is still so much to do! I’m beginning to wonder if I will get through. I still need more ribbon, this gift has no bow, But the roads are all slick, from the slush and the snow. Regardless of weather, Christmas will arrive So I will go brave it, with my front-wheel drive. I’ll slip and I’ll slide as I go down the street, Still so many tasks I have yet to complete. There’s cooking and cleaning and shopping to do, And I’m sure to break something, so don’t forget glue. I’ll spring to my sleigh, I’ll drive like a missile, And away I will fly like the down of a thistle. But you’ll heard me exclaim, as I skid out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night." Christmas

HARD LUCK CHRISTMAS STORY

2005-12-15T02:43:00.000-06:00

Please read this all the way through. Trust me - LOL A friend sent it to a group of us. I was in a hurry, and afraid it was going to be depressing, so I didn’t, until I read the responses of the other recipients, and realized what I’d missed. *******************************

Late last week, I was rushing around trying to get some last minute shopping done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly of the Christmas season right then. It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was loading my car up with gifts that I felt obligated to buy. I noticed that I was missing a receipt that I might need later. So mumbling under my breath, I retraced my steps to the mall entrance. As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years old. He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel shirt to protect him from the cold night's chill. Oddly enough, he was holding a hundred-dollar bill in his hand. Thinking that he had gotten lost from his parents, I asked him what was wrong. He told me his sad story. He said that he came from a large family. He had three brothers and four sisters. His father had died when he was nine years old. His mother was poorly educated and worked two full time jobs. She made very little to support her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed to skimp and save two hundred dollars to buy her children Christmas presents. The young boy had been dropped off, by his mother, on the way to her second job. He was to use the money to buy presents for all his siblings and save just enough to take the bus home. He had not even entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of the hundred dollar bills and disappeared into the night. "Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked. The boy said, "I did." "And nobody came to help you?" I wondered aloud. The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head. "How loud did you scream?" I inquired. The soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered, "Help me!" I realized that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry for help. So I grabbed his other hundred and ran to my car.

Slittin’ on the Dock of E-Bay

2005-12-10T14:30:00.000-06:00

I make a little money selling stuff at E-Bay, and most of the time it’s a lot of fun. Christmas can get a WEE bit crazy though, and I am about ready to slit my wrists. Just kidding. I do not want to speak unkindly of the buyers, because they are sweet people who send me money - LOL E-Bay itself, as a company, could make things just a little bit easier, though. Yo, Meg! (Margaret C. Whitman, CEO of Ebay Inc.) Have you ever tried to list anything yourself? Here, have a Prozac and we’ll run through it together. Let’s list this Christmas ornament. No, Meg, we’re not going to worry about political correctness and call it a Holiday Ornament. It’s a Santa Clause for Christ’s sake. No I’m not cursing at you; Christmas IS for Christ’s sake. Let’s have a shot of whiskey. OK, here’s the home page. What’s with this "it" thing? {{Meg shrugs}} Now we’ll go to "Sell". Oh, I see somebody else complained, ‘cause you’ve got a new version of the Sell Your Item Form. 'Bout friggin’ time, Meg. Allrighty. . .what's this? Take a survey? I don’t think so hon, we’ve got to move these refrigerators, gotta sell these color TV’s. Don’t look at me like that Meg, it’s a joke. I know we’re selling an ornament. Don’t you remember the rock video for "Money for Nothing" by Dire Straits? {{I imitate Dire Straits, playing air guitar while singing, "Money for nothin' and your chicks for free"}} {{Meg reaches for the whiskey bottle.}} So, it says enter a word to describe your item. I’ll type in Christmas Ornament. Geez Meg, twenty categories? What if I don’t KNOW what year it was made? I got it at a garage sale for cryin’ out loud. Here’s one that says Santa; we’ll go with that. Add a picture...sure. Edit picture. Let’s see - ACK! Santa looks like a Ku Klux Klan member! Crimeny, Meg, that brightness setting is intense, huh? That’s not good. Undo, undo. Enter description. Now we’re gettin’ somewhere. I wrote it all up in Word, we’ll just paste it in. HEY! WTF, Meg? I had it all set up with different font sizes and colors, so it’d look festive. Now everything is the same size and color. I’m gonna have to use that gawd-awful interface to change it to the way I want. Here, we’ll click on change font color and go warm up a cinnamon roll, maybe it’ll be done by the time we get back. (Several minutes later) Oh look Meg! It finally changed it to what I told it to do in the first place. You’ve got crumbs on your blouse. Don’t blame me. Yes I’m sure it was expensive. Yes, real silk feels wonderful. I usually wear sweats, don’t rub it in. Let’s just get on with it, and set the price and shipping. Now we’ll preview it. Ah oh. It’s mangled, Meg. The description is all over the place. Some of it is centered, some isn’t. Put the bottle down and look. Why is it showing a gift icon? I didn’t click that...hey that costs an extra quarter! {{Removes gift icon, frowns severely at Meg, who is looking away while softly whistling a tune that sounds like, "I can’t imagine how that extra charge thingy got there, and damn you for noticing".)) I sigh. We’re almost done. What’s that? No, I don’t want to pay $20 to make it a featured item. It’s selling for a dollar, Meg. A dollar. We’re going to submit it now. Let’s do this Meg; let’s push the button together, and then we’ll have another drink. {{A mushroom cloud rises somewhere in the world, as Meg and I raise our glasses.}} Christmas E-Bay

Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

2005-12-08T10:46:00.000-06:00

I think snow is beautiful, even though I know it’s out to get me - LOL

The flakes started falling at dawn yesterday. We now have a foot! School let out early yesterday, and is closed today. McDonald’s never closes though, so I will be braving the elements to delivery Fry Boy to his appointed station.

Click on picture to enlarge. Use back button to return.

The BBQ and a lawn chair on our front porch Wish me well...............

* * * * * * *

UPDATE: Traveled at top speed of 28 mph. One hour, three slides-going-around-corners, two attempts to make it up driveway, and countless frayed nerves, I made it!

Christmas

BARBIE'S CHRISTMAS LIST

2005-12-05T12:35:00.000-06:00

Barbie c/o Mattel, Inc. El Segundo, CA 90245 Santa Claus North Pole, North Pole Dear Santa: Listen you ugly little troll, I've been helping you out for decades, playing at being the perfect Christmas Present, wearing skimpy bathing suits in frigid weather, getting my hair ripped out by little brothers, and I hate to break it to ya Santa, but IT'S DEFINITELY PAYBACK TIME! There had better be some changes around here this Christmas, or I'm gonna call for a nationwide meltdown (and trust me, you won't wanna be around to smell it). So, here's my holiday wish list: 1. A nice, comfy pair of sweat pants and a soft oversized sweatshirt. I'm sick of looking like a hooker. How much smaller are these bathing suits gonna get? Do you have any idea what it feels like to have nylon and velcro crawling up your butt? 2. Real underwear that can be pulled on and off. Preferably white. What bonehead at Mattel decided to cheap out and MOLD imitation underwear to my skin?!? It looks like cellulite! 3. A REAL man...maybe GI Joe. Hell, I'd take Tickle-Me Elmo over that wimped-out excuse for a boytoy Ken. And what's with his little molded bits anyway? If I'm gonna have to suffer with him, at least make him (and me) anatomically correct. 4. Breast reduction surgery. I don't care whose arm you have to twist, get it done. 5. A jogbra. To wear until I get the surgery. 6. A new career. Pet doctor and schoolteacher just don't cut it. How about a systems analyst? Or better yet, a public relations senior account exec! 7. A new persona. Maybe "PMS Barbie", complete with a miniature container of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a bag of chips; or "Animal Rights Barbie", with my very own paint gun, outfitted with a fake fur coat, bottle of spray on blood and handcuffs. 8. No more McDonald's endorsements. The grease is wrecking my vinyl. 9. Mattel stock options. It's been more than 40 years - I think I deserve it. 10. Ditch the little plastic heels. I want a pair of Manolo’s, big boy. Ok, Santa, that's it. Considering my valuable contribution to society, I don't think these requests are out of line. If you disagree, then you can find yourself a new bitch for next Christmas. It's that simple. Yours truly, Barbie Christmas

Deck the Halls!

2005-12-03T16:47:00.000-06:00

Pullin' out the Christmas decorations here...don't trip on any of the extension cords - LOL! Are any of you doing special blog decorating for the holidays? When does it reach the point of overkill? (Please don't tell me I'm there - LOL!) Is the page loading slowly? I was concerned about using the big pictures. . . (So much to worry about, so little time - LOL) Christmas

World AIDS Day

2005-12-01T12:03:00.000-06:00

My best friend Al, died of AIDS nearly two decades ago.

He was the first gay man I knew well. He was a good friend of my husband, and introduced us. (Knowing if we were both crazy enough to enjoy his company we would get along with one another - LOL) He had a wicked sense of humor and could always make me laugh. He taught me things about pleasuring a man that I would never have thought of - LOL When I was an unwed mother, he accompanied me to an elegant soirée held by the radiologists of the hospital I was shaming by continuing to work in their x-ray department, despite being knocked up and not married. Having premarital sex is not an adequate reason for dismissal, so they had to put up with me. I told Al of the upcoming event, to be held at an exclusive club. I said since my future husband/father of my child had to work, that I wouldn’t be attending. I was informed in no uncertain terms that I would be attending, with him (Al) as my “date” because he’d always wanted to see the inside of the place. I kept pretty quiet about my private life, (hard to believe, huh? LOL) so my co-workers knew little, but were intensely curious. Showing up pregnant with a flaming gay man provided enough gossip fuel to heat the building for a year - LOL We arrived in a VW Beetle, which was valet parked. We entered the chic Palace of Plentitude, me carrying the out-of-wedlock child who would be born in a couple of weeks, and Al in all his Gay Glory. He wore more makeup than I did, including black eyeliner; a large back cape lined with blood red satin, and a pair of loafers spray painted gold. We were quite the pair. We ate, laughed, danced the tango (YES - what a sight!) and had a blast. He knew when he was dying, but didn’t fear the reaper, saying he’d rather live fast and die young than to be a lonely elderly homosexual. “There’s nothing sadder than an old queen,” he used to say. He was wrong. There was me, the day he died. I hope you’re cloud-dancing in those gold-leaf loafers, Al. I miss you.

Black Friday Cyber Monday Tuckered Tuesday

2005-11-29T10:24:00.000-06:00

Did everyone have a good Thanksgiving? Ours was pretty good. Not perfect, ‘cause we’re not the Cleavers - LOL I ended up buying a fresh turkey, ‘cause I didn’t get to the grocery store in time for a frozen one to thaw. Thursday I started cooking and when Middle Son wandered through the kitchen he said, "I hope you got plenty of cranberry sauce." A little piece of me died. I had forgotten to buy any at all! He is the only one that eats it. I threw my hand over my mouth in horror and he had the saddest, most hurt look on his face. I admitted to forgetting, and told him that Walmart was open, and he could run up and get some. He stared at me as if I’d just said, "your puppy died". I apologized, washed my hands, went to the bathroom and bawled my eyes out. I felt like the worst mother in the universe. He came in and said it was OK, and I blubbered, "No iz snot". (No it’s not) He said he knew I’d been real busy. I was still crying and apologizing and blubbering about snot. He said he’d go get some. I mumbled, swallowed, sniffled "OK " and sniffled some more. He drove up and bought some. That was the low point of the day. Everything else turned out pretty good. That should make all the rest of you look like Martha Stewart/Mother Teresa/Superman. LOL Husband returned to work Friday, kids were both off. I got up at 3 AM to prepare for the Black Friday sales. Later in the day I heard news reports that retail sales nationally were off, but it sure wasn’t that way around here. I went to Target, Kohl’s and the Mall, and every one of them had parking lots that were COMPLETELY full. Cars were parked clear out to the street and the streets leading up to them had enormous traffic jams. And this was at 5 AM! The sales at those places didn’t even start until 6! Once I got inside, I saw people pushing shopping carts that were overflowing. I didn’t find all that much, but I did get a CD and matching T-shirt that was on Middle Son’s birthday list at a good price, plus Sam Goody had a free CD giveaway so they plopped a Mickey Mouse bonus CD in my bag. I mean a real Mickey Mouse one - "Disney Christmas favorites". I listed it on E-Bay - LOL Middle Son wanted a car CD player that could play the MP3 CD’s he records (an MP3 CD can hold a hundred songs!) I’d scoped them out at consumer report sites so I knew the Sony had the best price/feature ratio. Circuit City had it on sale, plus their Black Friday deal was free professional installation (supposedly a $65 value) So I ordered it online with option to pick it up at the store. When I got there and picked it up, I wanted to verify that the installation didn’t have to be done that day. Nobody knew. I spent an hour going round and round with customer service, auto electronics clerks and finally the boys in the shop-garage themselves, making them WRITE ME A NOTE LOL I said, "Look, the reason I bought this here, was because of the free installation. But his birthday is Sunday, so I can’t get it installed today. I want a guarantee that I can bring it in next week and not be charged!" I was still all worked up over the cranberry sauce incident and must have had a death ray look in my eyes, because those 20-something wussies in the garage caved and wrote me a friggin’ note, promising to install it at no charge! Saturday I prepared several E-Bay auctions and scheduled them to start on Sunday, since Husband’s brother and his wife had invited us to come over for "open house". Daughter had said she wanted her highlights retouched, but she didn’t like the frosting cap that pulls little bits of hair through, so I bought a "hairpainting" kit for her, and a box of goo for me to retouch my roots. Sunday morning we had a goo-a-thon and did our hair. LOL Sunday morning I got all the birthday stuff ready. Since he is all into the "goth" thing, I wanted to wrap his gifts in black. Well, nobody makes black wrapping paper. I was pacing back and forth in the gift wrap aisle, and I spotted a black plastic tablecloth. It was 54" X 108" so I figured that would be big enough. I got some holographic silver sparkle bows and ribbons, and some poinsettia plants to take over to the open house. Middle Son was very pleased with his gifts. Had chocolate cake. KC Chiefs won their football game. I’d gotten some little cheap toys (a super bounce ball, a slinky and a necklace with a rubber pendant that lights up and flashes when you squeeze it) and put them in a Santa bag for the three little kids in attendance at the open house. They were a big hit with the kids, less so with the worried homeowner chasing after the errant superball - LOL. Middle Son wore a Santa hat and gave them to the wide-eyed children. It was a pretty funny scene...him with his dyed-blue-black hair, all black clothes, pants covered with chains and studs, ankle-length Matrix trenchcoat - and the red Santa hat LOL Gave them their poinsettias, ate some turkey sandwiches, had a pleasant visit for a few hours and headed home. There were some pretty severe storms all around. Just north of us there were a couple of tornadoes, really freaky for this time of year. Yesterday was Cyber Monday and I did indeed do some online shopping. My lips are sealed though. Not that I’m good at keeping a secret, I just ate a peanut butter sandwich - LOL Also got the gift installation taken care of. Yes indeed, at no charge - LOL So today, I am tuckered out. I need a nap, but instead, I will be delivering the lad to McDonald’s, breaking the ice on the cats’ water bowl (very cold here and spitting snow) and sculpting another styrofoam cathouse. (Crowd scratches their collective heads and mumble questioningly LOL) That’s a tale for another time. Gotta warm up the car (with new CD player) and head into town. Happy Tuckered Tuesday to all!

THE FLYING TURKEY

2005-11-23T09:50:00.000-06:00

The turkey shot out of the oven, and rocketed into the air, it knocked every plate off the table, and partly demolished a chair. It ricocheted into a corner, and burst with a deafening boom, then splattered all over the kitchen, completely obscuring the room. It stuck to the walls and the windows, it totally coated the floor, there was turkey attached to the ceiling, where there'd never been turkey before. It blanketed every appliance, it smeared every saucer and bowl, there wasn't a way I could stop it, that turkey was out of control. I scraped and I scrubbed with displeasure, and thought with chagrin as I mopped, that I'd never again stuff a turkey, with popcorn that hadn't been popped. Warm Thanksgiving Wishes to All!

Bonzai Bondini

2005-11-20T12:05:00.000-06:00

I did a stupid thing. (Regular readers go "Duh" LOL) Naturally, I was in a hurry. It was time to drive Daughter to school. I’d gone outside, fed the cats, started the car so the heater and defroster could "get busy" and heat things up (ah young love LOL) I nearly froze my rose. It was r-e-a-l-l-y cold. I advised Daughter to bundle up, and I went in search of additional garments. I found a big fuzzy hoody that seemed perfect. I pulled it on over my head. Without taking my eyeglasses off. This was a stupid thing. **POP** Snap goes the earpiece. The hoody slipped over my body, taking the left earpiece with it. Daughter arrived in the room, tapping her foot and saying, "C’mon Mom." I mumble, "juzamin" because the hoody is now halfway off, and I am speaking through it, while searching the interior for the missing part. I find the piece but there is no time for repairs. I slip the one-armed wonder on my face, and it perches precariously, somewhat monocle-like. I could have ordered replacement eyeglass frames, but I am a big ol' cheapskate - LOL When I return home, I attempt repair. Without the aid of the vision-enhancing lens, this will be difficult, but don’t think I didn’t learn my lesson from the Great Glue Debacle of Aught 2, when similar circumstances ended badly with an earpiece glued to my hair. I assembled all of the materials on the computer desk in front of me. I did a dry test run to ascertain the correct placement (let’s not discuss the Upside Down Glue Repair Disaster of ’98). I pulled out my trusty Bondini. (Disclaimer: I am not an employee or paid endorsement spokesperson for this product)

Bondini is fabulous. It is the best super glue ever made. I love it. I should own stock. It will stick ANYTHING. It comes in a wonderful little bottle that delivers every single drop. None of those icky-sticky tubes that the cap sticks to but nothing else will, for this gal. I opened the container, double checked the placement, and placed the single, magnificent drop. Pressing the two parts together, I waited. There was a knock at the door. We don’t get many knockers. We are far out in the woods and even farther off the road through the woods. The only people who know we are here are mail carriers, tow truck drivers and die-hard Jehovah’s Witnesses. It was the die-hards. No, I really don’t want a copy of the Watch Tower, I am quite happy as a Satan worshipper. Could I interest YOU in this lovely gilded pentagram? Only $2.99 or two for $5...whaddya say? Where are you going? (That one always works LOL) I’d set the repair job down on the edge of the table to answer the door. Gravity, the tights-and-cape-wearing-superhero "Enforcer for the Laws of Nature," was having sport with me that morning, and had lightly bumped the earpiece, dislodging it from the repair position and into the trash can next to the desk. I retrieved the earpiece, which now had barnacle-like attachments of lint, hair and paper towels. I chip off the offending bits, (rather like chiseling granite) frustrated at the failure of my first attempt. I began again and in my haste, did a very foolish thing. I broke the first rule of Glue Club. We don’t leave the glue bottle uncapped. I’d made sure the materials were assembled, run the placement test, but failed the critical step of re-capping. After the magic drop was applied and the seal was formed, I again delicately placed the repair-in-progress back on the desk to dry, and smugly reached for my coffee cup, knocking over the uncapped bottle and creating a Keyboard Kamikaze Attack.

ACK! Danger, danger! Don’t spill the coffee! Don’t bump the repair! Grab the bottle and turn it upright! Replace the cap; don’t stick your fingers together! Turn the keyboard upside down to prevent a pandemic of stickage! NO! Don’t flip it over on your lap to drain - how will you explain preparing Thanksgiving dinner while having a keyboard glued to your thighs? It could have been worse. I ended up with a good repair (still holding - knock on wood), half a bottle of Bondini left, no coffee spilled, and only one key glued down (I don’t even know what "Pause/Break" does, so no big loss there LOL) In the Panoply of Accidents, this was minor. That is one of the many things I express gratitude this week for. I send all of you best wishes for a glorious week. May you share the joy of family and friends, and give thanks for all that you have. That’s my plan!

Turkey Time Trader

2005-11-16T09:05:00.000-06:00

Thanksgiving is coming, and I get nostalgic, remembering my misspent youth. Ah, the stories. LOL I’ve had a love affair with narrative my entire life. I’ve been devouring the written word like a ravenous wolf ever since I was able to comprehend the combinations of letters that form them. I craved stringing them together into stories like most kids crave candy. I craved candy too, but I craved the words even more. This led me, as a savvy 5 year-old, to bribe my cousin into trading me a coloring book for a piece of candy. It was a circus peanut, which I despised anyway. Of course I pretended it was the greatest candy ever invented for the purpose of my ploy. Every holiday was a pilgrimage to Grandma’s, for all of her clan. My grandmother set all of us pre-schoolers in her bedroom with a bag of "goodies," to keep us out from underfoot. As soon as she was out of sight, the rougher youngsters would yank the bag away and take the prize pickin’s. By the time it got to me there was half of a blue crayon and a smashed orange circus peanut left in the sack. I pulled them out and surveyed the other youngsters, smugly chewing on Bazooka Joe and Bit-O-Honey, or thumbing through a coloring book. I wanted that book. I was not a good colorer. But it was a book. It was ripe to make up stories about. I could see the outline of a bird on the back, and already my mind was inventing great adventures for the feathered creature. I plotted. I held the circus peanut in my hand like a Fabergé egg, admiring it, cooing over its delectability. I thought I was brilliant, not having read any of Twain’s works. Sure enough, the coloring book owner took an interest in my interest, and tried to snatch it from me. I’d been bamboozled by that trick on Memorial Day, and jerked away, as protective of my treasure as a mother bear. Frustrated but wary, remembering the spanking that followed the Memorial Day theft, the cousin negotiated. "Wanna trade?" I must have been a Moroccan street vendor in a previous life, as I had an innate understanding of the art of the deal. I examined the circus peanut, then the stub of blue wax, appraising their value, and at last, agreed to the exchange. Coloring book in hand, I slipped quickly into the kitchen to sit under the table, watching the womenfolk’s feet scurry by, preparing for the big meal. I knew the instant the circus peanut was eaten, the value of the barter would be realized and my life would be in peril. But protected by the fortress of chromium kitchenette chair legs and scurrying female relatives, I felt secure. I opened the book delicately, and invented magnificent mental tales for every picture. I’ve been doing so ever since. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Still crazy-busy around here. We got our first snowfall yesterday, but none of it stayed. First hard freeze last night; wind chill this morning was 14 degrees Fahrenheit. {{SHIVER LOL}} I still have much to do to the house to seal out old man winter, but I missed all of you, so I had to pop in. I hope this finds all of you happy and well. I will try to get around to stopping by and visiting you sometime soon. Until then, peace be with you. Marti

COLD COMFORT

2005-11-13T16:40:00.000-06:00

Busy week ahead, need to put up storm windows and handle other winter preparations, so I leave you for a few days with these chilly chuckles.

===An annotated Thermometer by Don Haugen === +60 F (+15 C) Californians put on sweaters (if they can find one in their wardrobe!). +50 F (+10 C) Miami residents turn on the heat. +40 F (+5 C) You can see your breath. Californians shiver uncontrollably. Minnesotans go swimming. +35 F (+2 C) Italian cars don't start. +32 F (0 C) Water freezes. +30 F (-1 C) You plan your vacation to Australia. Minnesotans put on t-shirts. Politicians begin to worry about the homeless. English cars don't start. +25 F (-4 C) Boston water freezes. Californians weep pitiably. Minnesotans eat ice cream. Canadians go swimming. +20 F (-7 C) You can hear your breath. Politicians begin to talk about the homeless. New York City water freezes. Miami residents plan vacations further south. +15 F (-10 C) French cars don't start. You plan a vacation in Mexico. Your cat insists on sleeping in bed with you. +10 F (-12 C) Too cold to ski. You need jumper cables to get the car going. +5 F (-15 C) You plan your vacation in Houston. American cars don't start. +0 F (-18 C) Alaskans put on t-shirts. Too cold to skate. -10 F (-23 C). German cars don't start. Eyes freeze shut when you blink. -15 F (-26 C) You can cut your breath and use it to build an igloo. Arkansans stick tongue on metal objects. Miami residents cease to exist. -20 F (-30 C) Cat insists on sleeping in your pajamas with you. Politicians actually do something about the homeless. Minnesotans shovel snow off roof. Japanese cars don't start. -25 F (-32 C) Too cold to think. You need jumper cables to get the driver going. -30 F (-34 C) You plan a two-week hot bath. Swedish cars don't start. -40 F (-40 C) Californians disappear. Minnesotans button top button. Canadians put on sweaters. Your car helps you plan your trip south. -50 F (-46 C) Congressional hot air freezes. Alaskans close the bathroom window. -80 F (-62 C) Hell freezes over. Polar bears move south. -90 F (-68 C) Lawyers put their hands in their own pockets.

Veterans Day Honoring All Who Served

2005-11-10T16:55:00.000-06:00

November 11, is the anniversary of the Armistice which was signed in the Forest of Compiegne by the Allies and the Germans in 1918, ending World War I, after four years of conflict. At 5 A.M. on Monday, November 11, 1918 the Germans signed the Armistice, an order was issued for all firing to cease; so the hostilities of the First World War ended. This day began with the laying down of arms, blowing of whistles, impromptu parades, closing of places of business. All over the globe there were many demonstrations; no doubt the world has never before witnessed such rejoicing.In November of 1919, President Woodrow Wilson issued his Armistice Day proclamation. The last paragraph set the tone for future observances: To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country's service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nation. In 1927 Congress issued a resolution requesting President Calvin Coolidge to issue a proclamation calling upon officials to display the Flag of the United States on all government buildings on November 11, and inviting the people to observe the day in schools and churches...But it was not until 1938 that Congress passed a bill that each November 11 "shall be dedicated to the cause of world peace and ...hereafter celebrated and known as Armistice Day." That same year President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed a bill making the day a legal holiday in the District of Columbia. For sixteen years the United States formally observed Armistice Day, with impressive ceremonies at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, where the Chief Executive or his representative placed a wreath. In many other communities, the American Legion was in charge of the observance, which included parades and religious services. At 11 A.M. all traffic stopped, in tribute to the dead, then volleys were fired and taps sounded. After World War II, there were many new veterans who had little or no association with World War I. The word, "armistice," means simply a truce; therefore as years passed, the significance of the name of this holiday changed. Leaders of Veterans' groups decided to try to correct this and make November 11 the time to honor all who had fought in various American wars, not just in World War I. In Emporia, Kansas, on November 11, 1953, instead of an Armistice Day program, there was a Veterans' Day observance. Ed Rees, of Emporia, was so impressed that he introduced a bill into the House to change the name to Veterans' Day. After this passed, Mr. Rees wrote to all state governors and asked for their approval and cooperation in observing the changed holiday. The name was changed to Veterans' Day by Act of Congress on May 24, 1954. In October of that year, President Eisenhower called on all citizens to observe the day by remembering the sacrifices of all those who fought so gallantly, and through rededication to the task of promoting an enduring peace. The President referred to the change of name to Veterans' Day in honor of the servicemen of all America's wars. In 1968, new legislation changed the national commemoration of Veterans Day to the fourth Monday in October. It soon became apparent, however, that November 11 was a date of historic significance to many Americans. Therefore, in 1978 Congress returned the observance to its traditional date. Excerpts from All About American Holidays by Mayme R. Krythe. Courtesy of Patriotism.org

No More Sprinkles

2005-11-08T09:30:00.000-06:00

A while back (forgive me, but time has become kind of a relative term, since I’ve been spendin’ time with my relatives LOL) Middle Son stood in my bedroom door around midnight. I was asleep. He whispered, “Mom,” which had me on my feet faster than Superman gets into his cape. His father of course, snored soundly, because. . . well y’all know. So up I am, and facing a cat. Well, a boy/man holding a cat. At least I hoped it was a cat, as the room was dark and I could only make out the faint outline of the boy/man holding something with two golden eyes.

I told myself it was a cat, as it was unlikely he was holding a demon from hell and still whispering for his mommy. But ya never know. I stumble into the living room and flip on a light, and sure enough, he is holding a solid black cat. I’ve learned not to ask too many questions when one I gave birth to awakens me at midnight. . . better to go with the flow and see what the youngen wants. Boy/man is in all-black goth regalia, so even with lights turned on, the cat is still pretty much just a purring pair of golden eyes. He says, “My friend is moving and needs somebody to take care of Sprinkles for a few days, can we keep her here?” Wise beyond his years, he thrust the purring, golden-eyed bundle into my arms, knowing full well that I am not going to say, “No! Begone ye beast! I care not for thy welfare!” ('Cause I speak Elizabethan for no apparent reason sometimes, doncha know) I say, “Awwww,” and he knows I’m hooked. So Sprinkles became a guest in our home for what turned into several weeks. Although we already have several cats, they reside outdoors except during severe weather, living the good life of chasing blowing leaves, lounging in the sunshine and general feline rollicking. But Sprinkles is an indoor kitty, so she became an in-house guest, to the absolute horror of the outside kitties who spied her through the glass storm door, and no doubt held a meeting to decide on appropriate action. Fortunately these meetings usually devolve as soon as one of them spots a puffy dandelion to attack.

But now, Sprinkles is gone. Friend is settled, and has taken the cat back. No longer do we trip over her on our way to the bathroom. No longer does she paw at my fingers as I try to type. No longer does she give my beloved mother-in-law (who is allergic) sneezing fits when I come calling, carrying with me, a smattering of Sprinkles. I have been visiting them more frequently due to their recent bouts with illness and infirmity, hence “relative time”. I’ve washed all the clothes, vacuumed up the hair, and put away the litter box. Then I wrote this reminiscence with a long, slow, sigh. Fare thee well, oh ebony one.

Who’s Your Barney?

2005-11-04T13:15:00.000-06:00

We had a STUNNINGLY gorgeous fall day yesterday! The sky was lapis blue, the trees were blazing red and gold and the eavesdropping was easy - LOL Yes, I admit it. Hi, My name is Marti, and I'm. . .an eavesdropper. I can’t remember exactly when it started. I was young. I’ve always had extraordinary hearing ability, which has enabled my dastardly habit. So much for confessions. That's my story and I'm sticking to it - LOL! Because the temperature was in the 70’s, I drove with my car window down, letting my senses revel in the glory: autumn-scented wind whipping through my hair, sunshine warming my arms, and all manner of conversations going on around me. (It’s really amazing what people say and do in their automobiles, becoming oblivious to the outside world as they yabber on cell phones and pick their noses - LOL) I was stopped at a red light beside a nondescript sedan with a half-lowered side window. A peal of laughter range out, causing me to glance in their direction. The acoustic guffaw was followed by a woman’s voice proclaiming loudly, "I KNOW! OH! Did I tell you that I saw this really interesting thing about Barney..." The light changed to green, they were gone, and I was left with an overwhelming desire to know, "Barney who"? I arrived at McDonalds to pick up Middle Son from French Fry duty, and sat in the parking lot muddling the question. How many Barneys could there be? I started trying to think of Barneys (Because what better way is there to pass the time in a McDonald’s parking lot than to think of every Barney you can? LOL) See how many you can think of, then check your list against my Barney timeline:

I am Screamstress' Site of the Week!

2005-11-01T11:45:00.000-06:00

Oh my goodness! And badness! LOL! I’ve been outted......errr......featured (LOL) at b5media network! I am grateful, flattered and honored! The incredibly entertaining writer Rhys, who pens her wonderful wickedness over at "The Screamstress" (blogging about horror movies) has named my blog as, "Site of the Week"! Go see all of her gory goodness - LOL!

Halloween Late Entries

2005-11-01T10:00:00.000-06:00

Couple of late entries: My friend Sandra

Sheriff Kitty

*****

You can read Theresa's "a-mazing" tale of their Halloween adventure here.

Happy November first!

Happy Halloween!

2005-10-31T16:00:00.000-06:00

Thanks to everyone who left great stories or links in the comments section! I’ve had a few e-mail replies to my request for Halloween stories: Sandy sent this photo: It's a yard here in St. Louis and I think that what they did was so cute. I call it Ghost Dancers or Seven Sheets to the Wind. (I love her sense of humor!)

***** Mary Ann sent this photo:

LOL! Thanks to both friends! ***** I left a comment at Shel Isreal’s blog, "Naked Conversations" and he was kind enough to respond personally, despite his busy schedule, co-writing with Robert Scoble of Microsoft. I asked him if he had a story he could share and he replied: I am sorry, but I really am against book-related deadlines and don’t have time to scan my childhood for a juicy anecdote. The quickest that comes to mind is when I wound up in the hospital after running headlong (or neck-long) into a clothesline that served as a karate chop to my throat. Why? Because someone was chasing me after I waxed his window for refusing to give me any treats. -Shel I wrote back and thanked him, and he replied: When I think of clotheslines, I get all choked up. -Shel LOL! Thanks Shel! ****************** A couple of jokes: A little boy is dressed as a pirate captain for Halloween. He knocks on the door of a house and a lady answers. She says "Well, well little boy, what are you supposed to be?" He says "I am a pirate captain". She says "Well--where are your buccaneers?" He says "Right here under my buckin' hat." ***** As we all prepare for the upcoming Halloween night, please take a few minutes to read some simple rules to help keep everyone safe. 1. - Don't assume the telephone calls are coming from another house. 2. - When it appears that you have killed the monster, NEVER check to see if it's really dead. 3. - Never read a book of demon summoning aloud, even as a joke. 4. - Don't go into the basement to check the power when the lights go out! 5. - If your children speak to you in Latin or any other language which they should not know, shoot them immediately. It will save you a lot of grief in the long run. However, it will probably take several rounds to kill them, so be prepared. This also applies to kids who speak with somebody else's voice. 6. - When you have the benefit of numbers, NEVER split up and go it alone. 7. - Don't have sex. Especially if you've noticed a few of your friends are missing! 8. - As a general rule, don't solve puzzles that open a portal to Hell. 9. - Never stand in, on, or above a grave, tomb, or crypt. This would apply to any other house of the dead as well. 10. - If you're searching for something which caused a loud noise and find out that it's just the cat, don't stand there sighing with relief, GET THE HELL OUT! 11. - If appliances start operating by themselves, don't check for short circuits; JUST GET OUT! 12. - Do not take ANYTHING from the dead. 13. - If you find a town which looks deserted, there's probably a good reason for it. Don't stop and look around. 14. - Don't fool with recombinant DNA technology unless you're sure you know what you're doing. 15. - If you're running from the monster, expect to trip or fall down at least twice, more if you are of the female persuasion. Also note that, despite the fact that you are running and the monster is merely ambling along, it's still moving fast enough to catch up with you. 16. - If your companions suddenly begin to exhibit uncharacteristic behavior such as hissing, fascination for blood, glowing eyes, increasing hairiness, and so on, kill them immediately. 17. - Stay away from certain geographical locations, some of which are listed here: Amityville, Elm Street, Transylvania, the Bermuda Triangle, or any small town in Maine. 18. - If your car runs out of gas at night on a lonely road, do not go to the nearby deserted-looking house to phone for help. If you think that it is strange because you thought you had at least half of a tank, shoot yourself instead. You are going to die anyway, and will most likely be eaten. 19. - Beware of strangers bearing strange tools. For example: chainsaws, staple guns, hedge trimmers, electric carving knives, combines, lawnmowers, butane torches, soldering irons, band saws, or any devices made from deceased companions. 20. - If you find that your house is built upon a cemetery, now is the time to move in with the in-laws. This also applies to houses that had previous inhabitants who went mad or committed suicide or died in some horrible fashion, or had inhabitants who performed satanic practices in your house. ***** Technorati tags: Halloween, Naked Conversations, Shel Isreal, Robert Scoble, The Blogging Enterprise.

Halloween Memories

2005-10-28T09:30:00.000-05:00

Memories...like the corners of my mind (which means they are full of cobwebs and old books LOL) What is the first Halloween you can remember? The most extraordinary? Please share your stories! You can leave them here in the comments, or post them on your own blog and send me a link. If you don’t have a blog, e-mail your story to me and I will add it here. The earliest Halloween that I can recall was age 3 - I was a ghost. We were at my grandmother’s house. She took a white pillowcase and slipped it over me, and marked where my eyeballs and shoulders were, then pulled it off and cut little circles out for me to see through, and holes for me to poke my arms through. I thought I was da bomb - LOL We walked up her street to a few houses, me carrying my costume’s pillowcase mate to collect treats in. I harbored visions of filling it up, as tall as myself, and having enough sweets to gorge on forever. This was in the glory days of Halloween, before poison and razor blade scares, when little old ladies spent days preparing homemade candy, cookies and popcorn balls. Oh the joy of a homemade popcorn ball! The really cool old ladies colored the caramel-marshmallow gooiness that held the glob together with gallons of food dye, so that when I returned home and ate it, getting it all over my hands and face, I became the color of the popcorn ball. I was one of hundreds of happy children who were purple until Thanksgiving. The most extraordinary? Well certainly having Bradley the Brat pee on my costume ranks right up there, but for happy memories I’d have to say about ten years ago. All three kids were still living at home, and I was helping at the PTA Carnival. I sewed pirate costumes for the entire family (such a domestic diva LOL) from yards and yards of red and white striped fabric. Daughter and I wore skirts with jagged zig-zag bottoms, white puffy blouses, red kerchiefs around our necks and lots of gaudy jewelry. All of the males wore red bandanas, white puffy shirts, and pants and vests made from the same material, also cut with zig-zig bottoms. I wore an exotic feathered half-mask and black fishnet stocking (which Papa Pirate really liked, but that’s a whole ‘nuther story LOL) We went to the high school gymnasium and I ran the three-card monty game. Just kidding...I ran several different innocent little carnival games, like the cakewalk, and pick-a-rubber-ducky, win-a-prize. Eldest Son won the coolest prize, (not at my booth) - a Sprite soda pop bottle (that I still have) which had the neck heated and stretched.

There was a moonwalk, 25 cent hot dogs, lots of adults and kids in costumes, and I could abuse my power as a parent volunteer, and give my children tickets to anything they wanted to do - LOL It was one of the best nights of my life (and Papa Pirate’s LOL) So that’s mine. Please! Share your stories!

MORE COSTUME HUMOR

2005-10-26T06:25:00.000-05:00

A bald man with a wooden leg gets invited to a Halloween party. He doesn't know what costume to wear to hide his head and his leg, so he writes to a costume company to explain his problem. A few days later he receives a parcel with the following note:

Dear Sir, Please find enclosed a pirate's outfit. The spotted handkerchief will cover your bald head and with your wooden leg you will be just right as a pirate.
Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Co.

The man thinks this is terrible because they have just emphasized his wooden leg, so he writes a letter of complaint. A week goes by and he receives another parcel and a note, which says:

Dear Sir, Please find enclosed a monk's habit. The long robe will cover your wooden leg and with your bald head you will really look the part.
Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Co.

Now the man is really upset since they have gone from emphasizing his wooden leg to emphasizing his bald head, so again he writes the company and another nasty letter of complaint. The next day he gets a small parcel and a note, which reads:

Dear Sir, Please find the enclosed bottle of molasses. Pour the molasses over your bald head, stick your wooden leg up your ass and go as a caramel apple.
Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Co

Halloween Mistakes

2005-10-24T10:40:00.000-05:00

Only one week left! You may be getting desperate for Halloween ideas, but please avoid these options: (the first one is from me playing with PhotoShop, the rest are from Google) The Invisible Pedestrian (original concept courtesy of Dan Akroyd, on an old SNL skit) Editing note: I have removed "The Littlest Hooker" after some complaints and concerns that it promoted pedophilia. This was not my intent. It was just a joke. Clowning Around If you are an adult, (this page is FOR adults only) please use caution to avoid these tragic costuming errors. (tee-hee!)

REFRESHMENTS

2005-10-22T08:30:00.000-05:00

{{Hat tip to Jodi, one of my E-Bay customers, for sending this to me}} Sisters Mary Catherine, Maria Theresa, Katherine Marie, Rose Frances, & Mary Kathleen left the Convent on a trip to St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City and were sight-seeing on a Tuesday in July. It was hot and humid in town and their traditional garb was making them very uncomfortable. They decided to stop in at Patty McGuire’s Pub for a cold soft drink. Patty had recently added some special legs to his barstools, which were the talk of the fashionable eastside neighborhood. All five Nuns sat up at the bar and were enjoying their Cokes when Monsignor Riley entered the bar through the front door with Father McGinty. They were shocked and almost fainted at what they saw. SCROLL DOWN..........

My Childhood Horror

2005-10-19T11:30:00.000-05:00

Bradley was a brat. When I was 8 years old, his sister Robin was my best friend. We walked to school together, and since Bradley was only a year younger, he walked with us, tormenting us every step of the way. He ran in circles around us. He dangled any grubby thing he could pick up off the street in front of us (and that child would pick up ANYTHING.) He made up idiotic little singsong rhymes to annoy us. He was the first (sadly of many) to call me "Farty Marti," despite my lack of excess gas at that tender age. He was a nuisance extraordinaire. Next door to Robin and Bradley the Brat (which even I admit doesn’t have the ring of Farty Marti) was a vacant house. It had been vacant as long as anyone could remember. The weeds grew high and some of the windows were broken. Naturally, we assumed it was haunted. Stories grew of eerie lights and strange noises. It scared the bejesus out of me. No one dared go trick or treat there, as it would certainly lead to some gruesome demise. A few days before Halloween, I ran over to Robin's house excitedly to show her my new gypsy costume. Knocking on her front door, I allowed myself one quick, nervous glance at the haunted house. I saw. . .something. . . move inside, and became paralyzed with fear. I wanted to run, but my brain was no longer connecting with my legs, and I experienced the horror of being unable to move. Bradley answered the door as I stood there in shock, trying to force my muscles to function. I remained immobilized. Bradley glared at me and snarled, "Whaddaya want?" I didn't answer. I couldn't, so intense was the grip of paralysis. Never one to miss an opportunity to terrorize, Bradley unzipped his shorts and peed on me. That's right, he let loose with a stream of urine that saturated my beautiful new costume. Nothing will bring you out of fear paralysis like being peed on. I let out a blood-curdling scream. Bradley's mother appeared just as Bradley was laughing hideously, zipping his pants up. She took in the scene and grabbed Bradley by his ear, dragging him inside. I started running home, crying, but could hear the slap of a paddle on Bradley's behind, and paused. I stopped sniffling and turned around, and felt the sweet rush of retribution wash over me as I heard him crying louder with each "thwack!" Then, I kid you not, I heard a faint chuckle come from the haunted house. I ran home faster than I'd ever run in my life, and to this day, I think that something in that house was amused by it all.

COSTUME COMEDY

2005-10-17T07:00:00.000-05:00

It was Halloween time and an athletic guy was invited to a costume party. He goes to a costume specialty shop, and asks a young salesgirl; "I am going to be Adam, nude with only a fig leaf to cover down below. Can you help?" The salesgirl shows him a fig leaf for the occasion. He winks at the girl and says, "Not big enough for what I have, ma'am!" She brings out a bigger one. He keeps shaking his head negatively and says, "Well, not big enough for what God has given me. You understand?" She brings out a huge fig leaf; the largest possible made for the purpose. He throws his hands on the counter, and says, "Still not big enough. I have a reputation at stake here. You know what I mean?" Impressed, the salesgirl says , "Then, Mr. Hercules, why don't you just attach the leaf, throw it over your shoulder and go as a gasoline pump?"

Odd Fog

2005-10-14T09:10:00.000-05:00

I love autumn. I love the cooler weather. I love the leaves changing color. I love October and Halloween (like duh, I'm a pumpkin farmer LOL) I love how early in the morning there is a low fog hanging close to the ground, and steamy haze rising from all of the ponds. When I took Daughter to school this morning, it was beautiful beyond compare. The entire eastern sky was a rosy glow. Light shafts from the rising sun were peeking between the branches. Driving past fields and meadows bathed in a golden glow, we saw cows and horses standing knee-deep in the slowly undulating mist, lending them a mystical quality. After dropping her off, I was driving home at a leisurely pace, a goofy smile plastered on my face because it was all so damn pretty, and in the distance, through the vapor, I saw a figure walking on the side of the road. I frowned. There was something. . .odd. As I approached the figure I realized what was odd about the scene. It was a clown. A clown in full regalia - rainbow-colored fuzzy wig, red nose, face makeup and polka-dot baggy jumpsuit. Not sure about the big shoes, the clown's feet were obscured by the fog. Now here's a little secret. . .I don't like clowns. They creep me out. Especially a clown wandering down a deserted country road in the fog. There are few pedestrians out here, and this is the first clown I have ever seen strolling alongside the cow pastures. It struck me as a tad odd. I didn't see a car pulled off the side of the road, so thinking that the clown was walking for gas or assistance seemed unlikely. Curiosity drove me to turn around and go back. No clown. Nothing but the cows, the horses and the fog. I turned back around and headed slowly home, occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror. . . just in case. It was just so bizarre I had to share - LOL!

Tag

2005-10-11T11:40:00.000-05:00

I have been "tagged", and am henceforth bound by the Computer-users Loosely Interpreted Questionable Ethics (Clique) Code to follow suit and "play along". ~snicker~ The instructions were given to me by my blog-buddy and quite amusing fellow, The Village Idiot, who scribes his words of wisdom over at Kicked Puppies. Desperate for love and attention, I follow the Code of the Clique - here's what I have to do: THE RULES 1. Go into your archive. 2. Find your 23rd post. 3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to). 4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions. 5. Tag five other people to do the same. My 23rd post was "Leaning Tower of Puzza" posted August 9, 2005. (Which shows what a lazy blogger I am - LOL) The fifth sentence is: When the pumpkin patch is open, I have a series of small billboards, placed every fifty feet or so along the road in front of the farm, in the manner of the old Burma Shave shaving cream signage. I am tagging (with apologies and gratitude - LOL) * A California Girl In Kansas * Flying Piggies * DDDragon * Hillbilly Princess * Sugar Mommy Have fun kids! No tag-backs allowed LOL

Homecoming - and Going

2005-10-07T14:28:00.000-05:00

Another example of Just Say No to Nagging. High School Homecoming was approaching. I asked Darling Daughter if she was planning on attending any of the events. This was met with the, "are you insane?" look. She informed me that she is not into: *Sports *Pep *Parades *Spirit *Preppies OR *Dances Of course I didn't listen. I nagged. I cajoled. I bribed. Bribery worked. So off we went to find a dress, a beautiful dress, fit for a princess. With dress and all accoutrements in hand, I was pleased (and out a trip to the anime' store LOL) Saturday morning I forced, err...suggested the kids accompany me, to town to watch the parade. I love a parade. Grudgingly, the joined me. Of course Middle Son HAD to wear the whole Gothy regalia. This is a small town, and he was the Lone Goth. We took a couple of lawn chairs, and Daughter and I planted ourselves along the side of the road, while he stood, looking..."brooding" LOL He is a 2004 graduate, so there were a lot of students who still know him. As the floats went by, I saw students smiling and waving to the crowd, then they would focus on His Darkness, and frown, as they tried to rectify the face they remembered with this Matrix-coat-wearing fellow with blue-black hair. I could tell he was enjoying it, and struggling to maintain his somber, pensive demeanor. It sure made me smile. Later that evening, it was time for the dance, and Daughter looked so lovely. (Insert happy mommy sigh.) Husband drove her down, and returned with a trying-to-hide-it soft look on his face, from seeing his baby girl in formal attire. Within the hour, the phone rang, and she wanted to come home. Went down to pick her up from the very decorated, very loud gymnasium. Inside were the very dressed up students and one very unhappy Daughter. The chaperones released her to me, and when we got back to the car (where we could actually hear one another) she said that none of her friends were there and the music was giving her a headache. She looked miserable. (Insert sad mommy sigh.) Oh well. Will I learn my lesson from this? Maybe..........

Have you ever met an internet pal in person?

2005-10-04T13:44:00.000-05:00

I have an internet friend whom I've know for about five years now. We have written e-mails, exchanged photos and cried on one another's shoulders when we needed someone to vent to. She was going to be passing through town on a bus trip (she is deathly afraid to fly), and would have a layover in Kansas City, about 25 miles from me. She hoped I would be able to come down and keep her company. I was thrilled at the prospect of finally meeting her in person! The layover was scheduled to occur at 11:30 PM. Middle Son and I drove down to the scary part of town and met her. A few weeks ago, (as if my life didn't have quite ENOUGH grief in it LOL) he decided to "go goth" (Anyone seeing the influence of an eyebrow-pierced young woman here?) He went shopping and bought several black t-shirts adorned with graphics of skulls, these black pants covered with silver studs zippers and chains and a huge black trenchcoat a la Matrix. Then he dyed his hair blue/black. His complexion is so fair he looks like a vampire LOL Naturally he chose to wear it all to the bus station. I figured WTF; he'll frighten the hobos LOL We left here about 10:30 PM, and he BEGGED to stop at his McDonald's on the way to prance ~snort~ Following the catwalk ("I'm too gothy for my shirt, too gothy for my shirt, so gothy it hurts") we foraged on, navigating the maze of orange barrels and flashing detour signs while sharing the road with methamphetamined truckers, who were startled by the bright flashing lights on one side and the spectre of doom on the other. Exiting the freeway into downtown, I was astounded to learn that the bus station is no longer at the bus station LOL Since I was a little girl there has been a large building just across from the Federal Building, which housed the bus terminal. I thought it was our destination. It was dark. We drove slowly past it, staring at the giant "For Lease" sign plastered to its hulking, vacant side. I told Middle Son to pull the folded paper from my purse as I had (thank gawd) printed out all of the information regarding friend's stop, and copied and pasted (but not read) the address and phone number of the bus station. He did not immediately respond, as he was in the throes of fascination and fear, staring out the window at the prostitutes and homeless people. The lad has never been downtown near midnight. We checked the address and the station is now housed in a much smaller building, just down from City Union Mission, about three blocks from where we were. It has a very small parking lot, and parking on the street seemed less than wise, so we circled the block (actually several blocks due to one-way streets) a couple of times. Finally, someone pulled out and we took their spot. I told Middle Son to lock the door LOL We were still about twenty minutes ahead of the scheduled arrival time, so we took a seat on the wire mesh settee (shades of the diarrhea flat tire at Walmart). There were three other Caucasians in the building, which was pretty crowded, and filled with colorful languages in many tongues. Middle Son entertained himself reading one of the paperbacks I brought for my friend, and I wish I'd gotten a picture of Vampire Boy in his Matrix trenchcoat, surrounded by darker skinned folks as he read a Harlequin LOL I peered out the glass as each new bus arrived, then surveyed the departing passengers. Pretty soon, there she was, also scanning the crowd. We spotted one another and she pointed at me. I shook my head "yes" and she approached, and said, "That blonde ponytail! I knew that had to be you!" LOL! We hugged and gabbed for about half an hour. She is very soft-spoken in person, and I had a hard time hearing her over the babble. I introduced her to Middle Son, and attempted to explain his outfit. She pshawed me, gave him a big hug, and said, "You've been to Hot Topic haven't you?" Middle Son's jaw dropped that this charming lady from Vermont was aware of the retailer from whom he had purchased his get-up LOL She smiled and said that her daughter likes to shop there. She said her trip hadn't been too bad thus far. Said she was kind of tired and to make excuses for her hair when we took pictures LOL Before we knew it, the announcer was calling out her departure. We hugged one last time and she re-boarded. Middle Son and I drove back home, as he dozed lightly. I smiled to myself, pleased to have met my long-time cyber-friend, and looking at the boy/man who will always be my baby.

KIDS - GOTTA LOVE 'EM

2005-09-29T18:12:00.000-05:00

A kindergarten pupil told his teacher he'd found a cat, but it was dead. "How do you know that the cat was dead?" she asked her pupil. "Because I pissed in its ear and it didn't move," answered the child innocently. "You did WHAT ? ! ?" the teacher exclaimed in surprise. "You know," explained the boy, "I leaned over and went 'Pssst!' and it didn't move." *** One summer evening during a violent thunderstorm a mother was tucking her son into bed. She was about to turn off the light when he asked with a tremor in his voice, "Mommy, will you sleep with me tonight?" The mother smiled and gave him a reassuring hug. "I can't dear," she said. "I have to sleep in Daddy's room." A long silence was broken at last by his shaky little voice: "The big sissy." *** It was that time, during the Sunday morning service, for the children's sermon. All the children were invited to come forward. One little girl was wearing a particularly pretty dress and as she sat down, the pastor leaned over and said, "That is a very pretty dress. Is it your Easter Dress?" The little girl replied, directly into the pastor's clip-on microphone, "Yes, and my Mom says it's a bitch to iron." ***

When I was six months pregnant with my third child, my three-year-old came into the room when I was just getting ready to get into the shower. She said, "Mommy, you are getting fat!" I replied, "Yes, honey, remember Mommy has a baby growing in her tummy." "I know," she replied, "but what's growing in your butt?" *** One day the first grade teacher was reading the story of Chicken Little to her class. She came to the part of the story where Chicken Little tried to warn the farmer. She read, ".... and so Chicken Little went up to the farmer and said, "The sky is falling, the sky is falling!" The teacher paused then asked the class, "And what do you think that farmer said?" One little girl raised her hand and said, "I think he said: 'Holy Shit! A talking chicken!' " *** A certain little girl, when asked her name, would reply, "I'm Mr. Sugarbrown's daughter." Her mother told her this was wrong, she must say, "I'm Jane Sugarbrown." The Vicar spoke to her in Sunday School, and said, "Aren't you Mr. Sugarbrown's daughter?" She replied, "I thought I was, but mother says I'm not." *** A little girl asked her mother, "Can I go outside and play with the boys?" Her mother replied, "No, you can't play with the boys, they're too rough." The little girl thought about it for a few moments and asked, "If I can find a smooth one, can I play with him?" *** A little girl goes to the barber shop with her father. She stands next to the barber chair, while her dad gets his hair cut, eating a snack cake. The barber says to her, "Sweetheart, you're gonna get hair on your Twinkie." She says, "Yes, I know, and I'm gonna get boobs too."

Story Time

2005-09-27T06:12:00.000-05:00

there was a boy who had a cat named Brownie. Brownie is a happy cat. They live on a pumpkin farm. There are lots of other cats to play with. But Brownie likes to play with the boy. One day, the boy went to play with his people friends. He took his very big dancing pad with him. He put it in the trunk of the car and went back in his house for a game to play with his very big dance pad. He went back outside and slammed the trunk shut. Then he drove away. He had traveled through the woods only a little ways, when he heard a noise. "What could that be?" he wondered. He drove back through the woods to his house. He opened the trunk of the car. Brownie was on his dance pad. But Brownie was not dancing. Brownie was not happy. Brownie leapt out of the trunk onto the boy and held on tightly. The boy came inside his house and made his mommy laugh. He was wearing a cat. His mommy is still laughing, and had to tell all of her friends.

Hewwo fwiends,

2005-09-22T14:45:00.000-05:00

Sowwy fo not whiting. Hab had bad toofache, had to hab it pulled. Oww. ((Pulling myself together enough to speak properly for a moment.}} I am too sore and drugged up to relate the experience so I am posting a story I wrote a back in October 2002, the last time I had a tooth pulled, as this experience was nearly identical. Enjoy. - - - - - The tooth pain has been increasing for several days. Unfortunately, we only have one car right now, and I had already told Daughter that I would drive Husband in to work, so I would have the car to pick her up after school. I was to take her to a friend's Halloween costume party that evening. As soon as the office opened, I called the dentist to see if I could get an emergency appointment. They said they could work me in, but 11:30 was the only time. Husband usually leaves between 1 and 1:30 to drive to work, so I knew that would be cutting it close, but I didn't care - my jaw was swollen up like a peach. Examination, x-rays, explanation of abscess and required removal, then they started shooting in the novocaine. Shoot....wait...poke with sharp dental tool while asking, "Can you feel this?" I mutter "yeth." Shoot it again...repeat. Repeat FIVE times! Dentist says that due to the infection the novocaine is less effective, because it becomes diluted in the fluid (I won't say "pus" that's just so gross LOL). At last all pokey tool jabs result in no feeling, and he begins. Gets out a pair of pliers that could pull the Titanic out of the iceberg. Yanks firmly with one hand. Nothing happens. Yanks firmly with two hands. I think eventually he had his foot on the chair and a pulley hooked up to a truck outside, and with a mighty yank, pulled it out. Except for the root. Ah yes, I have deep roots, apparently attached to my pelvis. It broke off. Sounded like a large tree snapping in a hurricane. I heard an audible moan from the dentist and assistant. I had visions of Husband growing a long white beard waiting in the parking lot, and Daughter graduating.....college. I knew we were gonna be here a while. It required (close your eyes if you are squeamish) something more akin to oral surgery than a simple extraction, as now the dentist had to dig and slice his way down to the broken off nub, then cut himself a wide enough swath to grab it for removal. This, of course, required even more novocaine. The taste of blood filled my head, and the assistant was franticly trying to use the little sucker-straw fast enough to keep up. At last, the nub was removed; he applied enough gauze to cover the entire state (a la Cristo, the fabric-draping artist), and sent me on my merry way. It was nearly 2PM. We drove to his office, and about halfway there, the novocaine began to spread throughout my face. I was the bo-tox poster child, no wrinkles at all. Unfortunately, I couldn't blink my left eye. It was open, and I could see, except for the watering, but I could NOT blink. It was the damndest thing. What a sight I was! Five pounds of gauze, now quite red and oozing, stuffed in my mouth, but also partially hanging out the left side, since I'd lost all control and couldn't close my lips, unblinking left eye, tongue hanging out to the right, displaced by the massive gauze pack. By the time we reached Husband's office, he was a little late, but one look at me and I could tell he was torn between empathy and uncontrollable laughter, so he (wisely) said nothing, and left me to drive the 55 miles back to Daughter's school. Drove at warp speed. Between the drugs, the watery eye, the pain and the rate of motion, looking out the windshield was akin to the scene in Star Wars where all the stars turn into little streaks of light. Picked Daughter up, who shuddered at the sight of me. Drove her to the store to get a new pair of tights, since her pre-party try-on of the costume had ripped the original pair we purchased, and to fill the prescriptions from the dentist. Even the hardened eyes of the pharmacy clerks widened at the sight of us. . . Daughter, having changed into her costume (sans tights) and me - a mess. The elderly crowd, waiting for their flu shots, parted like the Red Sea at the sight of the swollen, oozing, unblinking creature (accompanied by a butterfly fairy wearing three-foot sequined wings), before them. (I suspect some of them reconsidered what medications THEY were on LOL) Unable to speak, I had to hold out my driver's license and the dentist's card and motion to them what my intent was. Fortunately they didn't think it was a hold-up, and rapidly filled my prescription. I started the antibiotics, but held off taking any Vicaden since it warns against driving, and by the time I had to go pick up Husband, all of the wondrous novocaine was worn off. I could blink again, but it was painful to do so. I begged him to get us home to my awaiting drug stupor, mostly using sign language and grunts. At last we arrived, and I started taking the pain medication, which I have taken regularly ever since. God bless the inventor of Vicaden.

For Whom the Cell Tolls

2005-09-14T15:00:00.000-05:00

Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone... Boy, ain't that the truth. Middle Son and I have been sharing my cell phone for some time now, with the understanding that if he ever damaged or destroyed it while it was in his custody, he would be responsible for replacing it. Of course he willingly agreed to this because he is a teenager and considers himself and everything in his possession to be indestructible - LOL Such is not the case. Last week, while said phone was in said son's trusteeship, (gawd bless Thesaurus LOL) he had a lil' boo-boo. At some point in his adventures, he and said phone did meet heretofore unmentioned hard surface (possibly floor, driveway or bowling alley lane, (said son's memory is weak on this particular detail), shattering said phone into said broken mess. A replacement as per said agreement was then in order. More was said, but is unprintable LOL "Replacement" sounds so simple. I snort huffily at "simple". "Simple" implies going to a nearby retail outlet, handing over the broken phone, and getting a new one handed to oneself with a cheery smile. At least we eventually got the cheery smile. {{Waves to most-magnificent "L", the superior customer service representative who handled our incredibly complex procedure.}} My first recourse had been to contact Eldest Son, the purveyor of fine electronic products at reasonable prices, who had handled our initial purchase and contract for cellular service. Sadly, he is unable to offer assistance, as merger of Husband's telecommunications company (and employer) with another telecommunications company, has throw all of the old rules up in the air like so much confetti.

Representatives at telecom company expressed their regret and sympathy that Eldest Son was no longer able handle such procedures, they must be transacted at the mothership...errr...World Headquarters, which is approximately the same distance from our home as Brazil.

So for several days, until jaunt could be arranged. I was cell-less.

I hadn't realized my addiction to it, until it wasn't there.

I missed it. I longed for it. I held its broken parts in my hands and cursed Fate (and in very bad-mommy fashion, the perpetrator).

At last we sallied forth and traveled to the holy land (World Headquarters). We explained the situation, with said boy and his soon-to-be-depleted savings in tow.

The procedure was complex. Husband's phone would become my phone, he and son would get new phones. My old number would activate to husband's old phone, husband's old number would activate to his new phone, and son would get new phone and number. Old/broken phone contacts would be transferred, switched and given liposuction in an extreme makeover that would bedevil the gods.

Throughout it all, most-magnificent "L" was cheerful and efficient. She managed the confusing maze of changes, upgrades, rebates, transfers and purchases with such aplomb as to make mortal men weep. She smiled encouragingly, and gently accepted the payment from the trembling fingers of Middle Son, who loves the feel of cash in his hands only slightly less than life itself.

He is recovering nicely though, as the joy of having his own phone to have and to hold (and to text message his friends) increases, shoving the painful memory of the cash transaction into a dimly-lit memory spot, much the way mothers do with childbirth.

And I have a phonie all my ownie now too.

Ah, the simple pleasures.

We Remember

2005-09-11T09:00:00.000-05:00

Anyone who wishes may use this image with my blessing.

Update Monday morning 7 AM Spent Saturday helping friend get stuff ready to send to hurricane-ravaged areas, am exhausted LOL You can see what we did, on her website at: http://www.digitaldoorway.net/2ndchancebooks/kcmetro-sends-aid.html

HURRICANE HUMOR

2005-09-09T14:00:00.000-05:00

I searched the internet for non-political hurricane humor. There is a LOT of political humor, but I prefer to stay out of that arena at this blog. Not much out there yet from Katrina, these were mostly about previous hurricanes which struck Florida. I believe the statement made by Tony Deyal, in the first section expresses the need for humor beautifully. Light in the darkness By Tony Deyal If you turn tragedy into comedy, laugh at things that should bring tears, then you regain control, if only temporarily. It is a brief flash of light into a soul-searing darkness. It brings temporary relief without changing the nature of the beast and the fear of the unknown that the darkness represents.
A Jamaican I met in Miami the day after Ivan passed through Jamaica, while deeply concerned about his country and his relatives there, questioned, "Why are hurricanes named after men?" When I responded that it is because most men are a bunch of windbags full of hot air, he replied, "Because they're noisy, make a huge mess, and if you look into their eyes there's nothing there." Then he asked me why they named hurricanes like Frances after women. I didn't know, so he told me, "Because they arrive wet and wild and when they leave they take your house and car." It is not that they are trying to trivialize the event so much as put it into perspective, to place it in a context that they could deal with it and come to terms with the pain and loss. *********** Hurricane Humor My car gets 23.21675 miles per gallon, EXACTLY (you can ask the people in line who helped me push it). There are a lot more stars in the sky than most people thought. A 7 lb bag of ice will chill six 12-oz Budweiser's to a drinkable temperature in 11 minutes, and still keep a 14 pound turkey frozen for 8 more hours. Flood plane drawings on some mortgage documents were seriously wrong. Crickets can increase their volume to overcome the sound of 14 generators. When required, a Lincoln Continental will float; it doesn't steer well, but it floats just the same. Some things do keep the mailman from his appointed rounds. Your waterfront property can quickly become someone else's fishing hole. I learned what happens when you make fun of another state's blackout. Drywall is a compound word, take away the "dry" part and it's worthless. I can walk a lot farther than I thought. *********** The Holding Cell By "Tender" Head Administrator Global user With apologies to Jeff Foxworthy. You may be a hurricane survivor if. . .
You have more than 20 C and D batteries in your kitchen drawer. You find yourself dropping words like "millibar" and "convection" into everyday conversation. You are on a first-name basis with the cashier at Home Depot. Three months ago you couldn't hang a shower curtain; today you can assemble a portable generator by candlelight. You catch a 5-pound catfish. In your driveway. You can recite from memory whole portions of your homeowner's insurance policy. You can rattle off the names of three or more meteorologists who work at the Weather Channel. Someone comes to your door to tell you they found your roof. Ice is a valid topic of conversation. Relocating to North Dakota does not seem like such a crazy idea.

Update on Noah's Wish Efforts

2005-09-06T18:35:00.000-05:00

UPDATE FRIDAY SEPTEMBER 9, We are having amazing progress with our fundraising efforts! Thank you all who have helped! Sorry for not blogging, been too busy, but will return very soon! Got this note from the reporter who interviewed my friend: Thanks for bringing this to our attention. We've gotten tremendous response on the animal issue. It's very sad, they're just helpless animals. Best, Tess ******************************** I got my friend a TV interview! It aired yesterday evening, in the greater Kansas City metropolitan area (which has close to a million viewers!) She did great! The latest word from the volunteers: (SLIDELL, LA) September 5, 2005 - Noah's Wish, a not-for-profit organization that works exclusively to rescue and shelter animals in disasters has rescued over 400 animals from evacuated homes in Slidell, Louisiana. The pets are being housed at a temporary animal shelter and Noah's Wish is working with Slidell Animal Control to save hundreds more abandoned and stranded pets in the city of Slidell. In addition to the 400 pets rescued by Noah's Wish, seven other animal shelters in the state of Louisiana are also working around the clock to save as many animals as possible. Over 1,500 animals are being housed in shelters throughout the state. Some of these animals are strays, while others were rescued from homes. Many evacuees from New Orleans fled with their companion animals but were unable to bring them into disaster relief shelters. Those animals are being provided temporary shelter in Louisiana animal shelters. The Slidell Animal Control building sustained extensive damage during Hurricane Katrina. Noah's Wish staff and volunteers on the ground do not have phone, cell phone or web access at this time and are unable to communicate outside the Slidell area. This temporary shelter will have the ability to house hundreds of animals. Trained Noah's Wish volunteers, veterinarians, and veterinary technicians are providing medical services, care and much-needed love and affection to these traumatized animals. Pet owners may pick up food and supplies from Noah's Wish volunteers in Heritage Park. Donations of pet food, blankets, dog kennels etc. may be left at Heritage Park.

THANK YOU TO ALL WHO HAVE SUPPORTED US!

Ode to High Prices

2005-09-02T19:10:00.000-05:00

To Lighten the Mood

It's up again, the price of gas No recourse seen, must pay, alas The nice cashier, it's not her fault Many blame her, she fears assault

She only earns minimum wage And sighs when faced with such outrage So please don't blame the kindly clerk Don't yell at her and go berserk

It's frustrating, I do concede It feels like a vile case of greed So where does all the money go? If you find out, please let me know!

Blogging For Hurricane Katrina Aid

2005-09-02T11:18:00.000-05:00

Digital Doorway is blogging for Noah's Wish, whose sole purpose is to assist and rescue animals during disasters. There is additional information and an easy-to-access donation button at: 2ndChanceBooks If you are blogging to promote any charity, there is a list compiled at: Truth Laid Bear - Blogging for Charity Thank you! {{And somewhere a wet little puppy says thank you, only it sounds like "arf arf!" LOL}} ************************************************* UPDATE FROM THE RESCUE WORKERS 9/3/05

I want to thank you for the part you are playing to ensure that the animals were not the forgotten victims during Hurricane Katrina. Your financial support will help in so many different ways and you should be proud of what you have helped make possible.
I wish you could be with us to see the joy and relief on the faces of the people whose animals needed our help, and be the recipient of some of the juicy kisses we receive from the dogs and hear the contented purring on the cats that we cuddle in our arms.

It is a constant reminder why we keep doing what we do.
Thank you!

_________________________ Technorati Tags: flood aid, Hurricane Katrina, Noah's Wish

Dear Animal Lovers

2005-09-01T09:25:00.000-05:00

Hello to all of my wonderful readers, As we have seen over the past few days, the devastation to the Gulf Coast region is overwhelming. The Red Cross and other charitable organizations are sending in aid and supplies to assist the people of the region. My best friend is a wonderful woman who lives in the Kansas City metropolitan area, and works with animal rescue groups. She is working with a large non-profit organization, whose sole purpose is to assist and rescue animals during disasters. It has been incredible to see the outpouring of help for the people in the Gulf. We would like to ask for a small portion of your generosity to help rescue the animals that are suffering from this tragedy. These beloved pets have been lost and are hungry, injured, and terrified. We know how those of you with pets feel about your animal friends......please think of the conditions these poor creatures in wake of the hurricane are suffering with now. The organization is called Noah's Wish. Their sole purpose is rescuing animals during disasters. PLEASE, visit their website, see their information, and offer a small donation of money or supplies. To other bloggers, I would ask that you copy the banner code and place on your blog. Your help is deeply appreciated by the helpless creatures that cannot ask for themselves. They thank you. ************************************** PLEASE PLACE THIS BANNER ON YOUR BLOG You can use this code Change the parentheses to brackets like < > (a href="http://www.noahswish.org") (img src="http://digitaldoorway.net/images/noahs-wish-banner150x450.jpg" /) (/a) **************

Update: August 31, 2005 - 9:00 p.m. Louisiana Time

The Noah's Wish team reached Slidell, Louisiana today. We have met with emergency management and animal control. Tomorrow we will begin to provide assistance for animals in this devastated area. Almost everyone we talked with this afternoon had a story to tell of an animal. Unfortunately, many of the stories were of animals that were left behind when people had to evacuate. People are getting desperate to find their animals. Areas of Slidell are still underwater this evening and the devastation is widespread. There is no electricity, gasoline, or phone service (landlines and cell). In order to post this update I had to travel almost two hours back to Baton Rouge where I could get internet access. Even here cell phone usage is impossible. We truly feel cut off. I will be driving back to Hammond tonight where our team is staying at the home of one of our Volunteers. Tomorrow evening I will return to Baton Rouge with a much more detailed update and photographs. Report Submitted By: Terri Crisp - Noah's Wish Director

************************************

SEPTEMBER 2. 2005 UPDATE

For those of you who would prefer a text link to add to your blog or website, please use this code. Change the parentheses to brackets like < >

(a href="http://www.noahswish.org/")Noah's Wish Animal Disaster Rescue(/a)

************************************ UPDATE FROM THE RESCUE WORKERS 9/2/05

We are operating in Slidell, Louisiana. Additional teams are being dispatched. Further sites of operation are anticipated. Communications are poor at best.
I am handling logistical and supply operations from the St. Louis, Missouri area. From this location we have the intact communications and transportation infrastructure to receive supplies. We can then dispatch the supplies and equipment as they are needed to the area with our volunteers transporting them down Interstate 55 as the volunteers are deployed in the area.
I thank you for your support and generosity in helping us help the animals.
Best Wishes, Roger D. Smith Regional Coordinator Noah's Wish

------------------------- Technorati Tags: flood aid, Hurricane Katrina, Noah's Wish

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU...

2005-08-30T08:22:00.000-05:00

1) have nothing to do 2) own a sharp knife 3) have a large lime 4) own a patient cat 5) drink too much tequila 6) and it's football season?

The Un-Martha

2005-08-26T18:31:00.000-05:00

I am not Martha Stewart, and I couldn't be happier. Been seein' a lot about her on TV again, I guess she is going to be hosting her own reality show soon. We were both born with the same first name, and double X chromosomes, but the similarities end there. Many women turn to Martha Stewart as the epitome of perfection and stylish living.

(This quote is directly from the food network bio)

When America wants to learn how to make the perfect pie crust, plant an herb garden or fix a broken windowpane, it turns to Martha Stewart

But geez, she always manages to make people feel bad about themselves in comparison.

I make them feel better. Women look to me and say, "Oh hallelujah, there is someone here who": *Isn't a size six *Has unruly children *Is licking her fingers to smooth her hair down *Uses Vaseline for lip gloss Ms. Stewart's home was Nutley, N.J. Mine is more like Nuthouse. We lose things, break things, (including bones), get cranky, get even, and love each other fiercely. Continuing with the Food Network description:

Inspiration surrounded Martha at an early age. Raised in Nutley, N.J., in a family with six children. Martha developed her passion for stylish living, cooking, gardening and homekeeping in her childhood home on Elm Place.

My childhood was......ummm......less inspirational. My parents weren't bad people; they didn't beat me or anything like that. But we come from hillbilly stock in the Mazoorah Ozarks. Stylish living was getting running water. (Honest......the house I lived in as a child had a PUMP in the kitchen, and an outhouse. It was horrible in the winter, because I would always wait until the last minute to go out there in the cold, and if it was slick, I would run, fall, and......well, the trip would be a moot point. (Hey I was only four)

She got married during her sophomore year, and upon graduating became a successful stockbroker on Wall Street, where she gained her early business training.

Around our parts, "stock" meant the cows. Cows are cool though. I used to ride a cow like a horse and thought it was the neatest thing in the universe. (Hey I was only four)

Her unique visual presentation of food and the elegant recipes she created for her catered events were the basis for her first book.

"Elegant recipes" for us meant pigs in a blanket. Unique visual presentation meant putting a toothpick in them.

Martha Stewart was named one of the "50 Most Powerful Women" by Fortune magazine in October 1998.

Somewhere along the way, I think we may have had a family member on the 50 Most Wanted List......LOL!

Trench Warfare In Our Driveway

2005-08-23T09:46:00.000-05:00

We have a gravel driveway that is a thousand feet long and ten miles deep. It is paved with gravel. That is until the Great Rock Eating Phantom that lives underground wants a midnight snack. We'll get a new load of rock spread on it, and soon, the gravel is disappearing into the ground. Irregularly of course, so that the lovely white, smooth surface becomes lumpy and pitted. We've been feeding the GREP for 20 years now, and there is no indication of his appetite diminishing. The first few years, we thought, "Well, sooner or later the gravel will have been shoved into the earth completely to the bedrock, and THEN we won't have to dump so much on so often." It didn't happen sooner, we're still waiting for later. In between loads of gravel, dips and bumps appear. Husband related this story to me the other day, and it gave me a chuckle so I thought I'd share. Since we are out in the sticks, there is a plethora of wildlife out here. Deer roam freely. Raccoons mosey up onto the porch and eat the cat food. Squirrels taunt the cats, dashing from tree limb to tree limb. Skunks, possums, moles, field mice and the rare mountain lion or coyote wander through. The cats have little interest in them. But the rabbits! There is something about the rabbits that enthrall the felines. A cottontail, hoppin' down the bunny trail, will catch the attention of even the laziest cat. Rabbits are very quick though, and can easily spot an approaching cat, and hop away to safety. The cats have realized that to give the rabbits a run for their money, they would need to be more devious. They have adopted trench warfare tactics. Because husband departs for work very early in the morning, he witnesses some of the nocturnal chicanery by the light of the silvery moon (and dual beam halogen headlights). Seems the cats have learned to flatten their bodies out in a dip in the driveway, and become one with the gravel. And wait. Husband will pull out slowly, look down the driveway, and see nothing but ears. Ears that are twitching with anticipation. Wait, wait...Ah! Here comes Mr. Bunny. Twitch, twitch...bunny pauses, glances around, feels secure and begins nibbling on the clover. ATTACK! Fur flying, feet pounding, the chase is on! Don't panic, the rabbits are still faster, but...the cats have taken up a collection among themselves and are paying the fox a consulting fee, so who knows what Fate holds for Mr. Bunny.

LOUISIANA GHOST STORY

2005-08-20T16:04:00.000-05:00

This story happened recently in a little town in Louisiana, and while it sounds like an Alfred Hitchcock tale, locals swear it's real. Read to the end. This guy was on the side of the road hitch hiking on a very dark night in the middle of a storm. The night passed slowly and no cars went by. The storm was so strong he could hardly see a few feet ahead of him. Suddenly he saw a car slowly looming, ghostlike, out of the gloom. It slowly crept toward him and stopped. Reflexively, the guy got into the car and closed the door, then realized that there was nobody behind the wheel. The car slowly started moving again. The guy was terrified, too scared to think of jumping out and running. He saw that the car was slowly approaching a sharp curve. He started to pray, begging for his life! He was sure the ghost car would go off the road and he would plunge to his death, when just before the curve, a hand appeared through the window and turned the steering wheel, guiding the car safely around the bend. Paralyzed with terror, the guy watched the hand reappear every time they reached a curve. Finally, the guy gathered his wits, leapt from the car and ran to the nearest town. Wet and in shock, he went into a bar and voice quivering, ordered two shots of tequila, and told everybody about his horrible, supernatural experience. A silence enveloped everybody when they realized he was apparently sane and not drunk. About half an hour later two guys walked into the same bar. One says to the other, "Look Boudreaux, Dats dat idiot what rode in our car when we was pushin it in the rain."

Tick Tock Tick

2005-08-17T18:30:00.000-05:00

School starts tomorrow. That means today is Crazy Busy Day. Although I had a "to do" list a mile ling, there were not a lot of the tasks that could be accomplished at 6:30 AM. I had filled my belly with a Monster Energy Drink, wrapped several orders from online sales, written a shopping list, answered some mail and laughed at the local news of a crocodile discovered in the Kansas City metro area. This isn't exactly 'gator country. Post office wasn't open yet, and the girl-who-wants-to-go-shopping was still sleeping. I took some food out to the critters, and noticed how unruly the lawn had become. Cloud cover had dropped the temperature, so I figured I could give it a quick buzz cut. (Just 'cause a lawnmower amputated one of my fingers, they don't scare me.) It is really quite a pleasant task. There are immediate, visible results of the effort. The smell is pure heaven. The delicious thrill I got from executing several hundred grasshoppers in a hideously torturous way will set my karma back a notch or two though, I bet. (I really dislike bugs.) The quicker ones leapt out of the way at the sound of approaching death-on-a-blade. But those who are slow, weak, or not limber enough to do the lawnmower limbo became fertilizer. Apparently a few of them sent out a clarion call to their insect brethren moments before their demise, to avenge their execution. I do not speak bug though, so I was unaware, until retribution was exacted. When I was finished, I stepped back and admired the freshly-shorn grass. It was lovely. I came in and showered, and by now, the girl-who-wants-to-go-shopping was awake. And nagging. "Come on, Mom," she moaned outside the bathroom door. "OK, OK, I'm just washing my hair......what's this?" I felt something on my head, which was neither scalp nor hair. "M-ahhhhh-m." "Just a minute, I've got.....ack! I've got shampoo in my eyes and something on my head." "Can I at least come in and go?" Trying to retain my eyesight, I am drenching my face with water. "Glurp, glub." She took this to be an affirmative, and entered. De-sudsed, I step out, still feeling around on my head for the not-hair-not-scalp lump. I see a momentary shiver cross sweet-sixteen's face at the vision of her dripping 52 year-old gene donor. "Can we go? Your hair will dry in the car. There's a sale at the mall that is only good for the first hour. Come o-o-o-o-n." I temporarily postpone the head hunt and get dressed to placate her. I know she is nervous about the first day of school and wants to find just the right thing to wear. Brushing my hair, I feel a snag, and poke around with my fingers again. Ah-ha! I grasp with fingernails and tug. Then tug harder. Release! I lower my hand to see a fat, wriggling tick. (A moment for all you city folk to go "ewwww!" Out here on the farm, it is commonplace, and one of those things you just get used to after a while. Did I mention how much I dislike bugs?) "M-ahhhhh-m. Come on, I want to oh my God you're bleeding!" Indeed. Dislodging a tick that has sucked all of the blood in your head to the surface to gorge on, causes quite a gusher. Especially with blond hair. I looked like an extra in a Wes Craven movie. Still holding the tick firmly between my fingernails, I turned on the hot water spigot full volume. (I can just hear my karma bucket emptying). Down the drain it went, a steamy trip to the septic tank. There is probably a mutant batch of bugs living in there, plotting to take over the world. Meanwhile Daughter had gone to the medicine cabinet and retrieved gauze. I have a vision of us marching into the mall looking like Revolutionary War soldiers, with her playing her flute and me with my head swathed in bandages, determined not to shoot the credit card out of my purse until we saw the whites of the sale tags. Fortunately, I am a quick clotter, and soon the spot was daubed and dried. We were determined to proceed, succeed and not bleed. Daughter is now also shorn, her hair cropped in a snappy new 'do, and we found a spectacular outfit. I mailed out many packages, answered questions, and sent out notices. Tomorrow a new day dawns. Please Lord, let it be bug-free.

Your Ad Here!

2005-08-15T13:48:00.000-05:00

The carpet in front of my computer is wet. I am forbidden from saying why. So, play along here, the floor is wet. My hillbilly-ness, or my inner child, (or my hillbilly inner child) comes out when I am in my own home, and I go barefoot. Wet carpet and bare feet are an unpleasant combination. To be able to sit here and use the computer, I have placed many layers of towels, paper towels, blankets, and newspapers between my feet and the icky-wet carpet. The carpet has an astonishing capacity to retain water, so all of those soaked through, and soon, the soles of my feet were soaking again. Ewwww. I resorted to other materials in hopes of finding something with a slower absorbency rate, so I could finish a sentence before suffering Soaked Sole. I tried the glossy advertisements from the Sunday newspaper. Hmm, a few minutes went by without serious soak-through. Sweet. Then I tried to leave. My feet were stuck to the glossy ads, and when I peeled them off, I had a nice reverse-transfer of the ad copy on the bottoms of my feet. I've seen E-Bay auctions from people who are willing to auction off advertising space on their bodies, but it is usually on their forehead, or pregnant belly......somewhere prominent, and easily visible. So I have little hope of making any money from the advertising on my feet, but it made me laugh when I saw it, so I thought I'd share.

After all, who can't use a good laugh?

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD?

2005-08-14T11:30:00.000-05:00

BILL O' REILLY: That friggin' chicken is a *#@&* liar! HOWARD STERN: Let's see your breasts. MARTHA STEWART: No one called me to warn me which way that chicken was going. I had a standing order at the Farmer's Market to sell my eggs when the price dropped to a certain level. No little bird gave me any insider information. DR SEUSS: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed I've not been told. ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die in the rain. Alone. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR: I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question. GRANDPA: In my day, we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough. BARBARA WALTERS: Isn't that interesting? In a few moments, we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heart-warming story of how it experienced a serious case of molting, and went on to accomplish itslife long dream of crossing the road. JOHN LENNON: Imagine all the chickens in the world crossing roads together - in peace. ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road. KARL MARX: It was a historic inevitability. CAPTAIN KIRK: To boldly go where no chicken has ever gone before. BILL GATES: I have just released eChicken2005, which will not only cross roads, but also will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook. Internet Explorer is an integral part of eChicken. ALBERT EINSTEIN: Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the chicken? THE BIBLE: And God came down from heaven, and he said unto the chicken THOU SHALT CROSS THE ROAD. And the chicken did cross the road, and there was much rejoicing. COLONEL SANDERS: Did I miss one?

WHEN I DIE

2005-08-13T13:45:00.000-05:00

When I die, I want to die like my grandmother who died peacefully in her sleep. Not screaming like all the passengers with her in her car. LOL

Comments

2005-08-12T09:25:00.000-05:00

Sorry for not responding to recent comments, I apologize. Things have been crazy here in a not-funny-don't-care-to-share kind of way. I appreciate all of the input regarding blog comments. I have decided to maintain a dialog in my own comments section, (but not today, because I have too much else to deal with, she said in a schizophrenic fashion LOL) instead of going to the blog of the person who left me a note, and writing, "Thanks for your comment" at THEIR blog. I will visit the blogs of anyone who leaves a comment, and may comment, but if I do, it will be a response to a topic on YOUR blog, not me dropping in to say, "Thanks for stopping by my blog". I would like to thank Darren Rowse of ProBlogger for bringing his readers into the discussion, and to Gone Away for opening up the debate over there. Hope everyone has a great day. I look forward to having my personal issues resolved, so I can focus on being entertaining (as I hope I was before LOL) again.

Leaning Tower of Puzza

2005-08-09T08:20:00.000-05:00

My darling mother-in-law loves jigsaw puzzles. She works big ones, little ones, round ones too. Sorry, starting to sound a little too Dr. Seuss there...... Actually, it is from a series of roadside signs that I made to promote our pumpkin sales. When the pumpkin patch is open, I have a series of small billboards, placed every fifty feet or so along the road in front of the farm, in the manner of the old Burma Shave shaving cream signage. {{All the young whippersnappers out there are scratching their Gen-X heads in confusion LOL}} My pumpkin signs read: Big ones, little ones, White ones too, We have the perfect Pumpkin for you! Pretty lame, huh? LOL! Back to darling mother-in-law and her pile o' puzzles. She regularly gives me a batch of jigsaw puzzles that she has finished, and lets me sell them at online auctions.{subliminal message please go look please go look lol} She said, "Now I GUARANTEE that all of the pieces are here for these, and that they are in fine shape. I promise, 'cause I am a good Christian woman and I don't swear". Then she giggles like only an adorable grandmother can giggle. I decided to be clever (which can sometimes get me in b-i-g trouble LOL) so I spiced up the listings with a little song parody about my darling mother-in-law having so many jigsaw puzzles (to the Beverly Hillbillies theme, "The Ballad of Jed Clampett"). The Ballad of Puz Rampant Come and listen to my story of my dear mother-in-law, A sweet puzzler, she has lots of them, jigsaw, And then one day, she was puttin' one away, But the closet was so full, that the box just wouldn't stay! Hmmmm, she said, "Gotta go! Selling spree!" Well the first thing you know, she told me of her issue, And she said, "Help! What is there to do?" I said, "Don't you worry, our solution is E-Bay, We will put them up for sale, and let buyers bid away!"" Great, they are, All the pieces! Guarantee! Well now it's time for you to come and gaze at what we've got, You won't be disappointed when you look at what you've bought. They're all a pretty picture, and the pieces are all there, We promise - 'cause she's so sweet that she doesn't ever swear! Y'all come back now, ya hear? Even lamer huh? (And you thought it wasn't possible - pshaw! LOL!) I keep selling them and she keeps giving me more - LOL The last batch was a whopper, so we have a very tall stack of them in here now. Since the boxes are all different sizes, and I have to pull them out to write the descriptions and take photos, or wrap them when they are sold, the stack has become somewhat discombobulated (isn't that a great word? LOL) I fear it could injure one of us if it collapses from the vibrations of Bo Jangles getting too intense on his dance pad LOL! I am going to attempt to sneak up on it {shhhh} so I can pull another one out to list. If you don't hear from me in a week, please call in Hercule Puzz-oit {snicker}

Netiquette

2005-08-07T11:40:00.000-05:00

I deeply appreciate everyone who has stopped by and left comments (your bribery payments are on the way - LOL!) Just curious, what do you think is the proper ('cause I am always proper ~snort~) way for the blog owner to respond to comments? I don't know how to add a "poll" to a post, and it would probably slow the webpage load time down to a crawl anyway. Plus I'd lose all of you lovely Blog Explosion folks who are watching the countdown until you can go to the next one, and if the page loads slowly, you'll be outta here before this ever shows up, so please respond in a comment. Question: When a blog owner gets a comment, should they...? A) Smile to themselves and be glad someone is taking the time to reply B) Respond via e-mail C) Respond in their own comments D) Respond in the comments section of the commenter's blog? E) All of the above Next, we'll tackle abortion, the government and the possibility of extraterrestrial life......... NOT! LOL! Thanks for all comments!

Ready For the Booby Hatch

2005-08-04T10:50:00.000-05:00

I wonder who manufactures those ubiquitous orange barrels that mark hiway construction... and what dirt they have on some highway official somewhere, to have gotten such a massive contract for placement? {{Mutters to self, "Why can't I ever have any good blackmail information?"}} LOL I can barely make it out my driveway (sometimes not even that, when I get stopped before exiting onto the street, by an irritated-looking, lime-green-vest-wearing worker-bee who has to be using some kind of drugs (perhaps lots of them) to stand out there in the blazing sun with nothing but a little reversible STOP/SLOW sign for protection from the over-amphetamined semi-truck drivers who are barreling down our country road to avoid the interstate hiway weigh station two towns down, because they have been driving for 72 hours and haven't updated their log book) before coming across those damnable orange barrels. I gather from the correspondence I have with folks around the country that this is not just a Mazoorah phenomenon, that orange barrels proliferate across the continent, despite the rampant, well-known corruption of the Missouri Department of Transportation. I admit, they need repair. We have horrible roads. Worst in the nation. {{Redneck cheer goes up, "Woo-hoo! We're numbah one!"}} But why, oh why do they increase proportionally to the amount of time/number of errands I have to run on any given day? {{Riddle me THAT, Michio Kaku, world-famous theoretical physicist LOL}} As I am sure you have gathered from this lengthy prologue, yesterday I had LOTS to do and little time to do it. So naturally, {{cue drumroll}} there were a plethora of orange barrels and green-vested drug-abusers between me and destiny (or at least destination LOL) Detours, delays and day-glo daredevils who sprinted across the freeway directly in front of me to retrieve an errant orange cone, (love child of two orange barrels who found one another on a dark and stormy night) which was flailing about in the wind, causing drivers to swerve around it, all conspired to make the journey harrowing and blog-worthy. It took me 30 minutes just to get through town, which is something, since the town is only slightly larger than a postage stamp, and has the locals' hackles up because the city is installing a {{gasp!}} stoplight. Installation has dragged on for months (probably subcontracted by the same company that has the goods on all public officials), adding to the frustration, as the trucks of various electrical and signal-installation companies block one or both lanes of the road. At last, I made it to the final stop, Walmart. There was some country music singer making a personal appearance and his large bus outside was blaring out honky-tonk tunes at ear-splitting decibels. A crowd of gawkers was blocking the entry, as he was signing autographs just inside the door, occasionally gracing the crowd with an impromptu overture, sung without benefit of instrumental accompaniment, or studio enhancement, which made his less-than-perfect voice sound rather tinny. Threading my way through the fandom lair, huffing and puffing from sprinting across the parking lot to make up time lost to road delays, and limping at having slightly twisted my ankle in said sprint, my own hackles were at maximum altitude, when I felt something go "sproing!" just above my left breast. I have not experiences breast sproing in quite some time, and paused momentarily, befuddled by this development. The river of acappella aficionados carried me unwillingly down the aisle, until I stumbled off to the side to discover the source of the sproing. My brassiere strap had broken. It was now disengaged from the cup, and was dangling jauntily down my back, as gravity tugged mightily at left-breast-yearning-to-be-free. I decided to continue my Quest for Completion, and kept on shoppin'. I did so somewhat Napoleon-icly, holding left arm across chest, to disguise the bared nipple and flopping bra cup under my T-shirt. By the time I reached the checkout, I was sweating, my ears were nearly bleeding from the country-music assault-on-sanity, I was limping worse, and was hunched over from holding arm in nipple-shielding position. {{ I ain't no Janet Jackson LOL }} I looked like Quasimodo on a bad day. By the time I got to my house, I was asylum material, crazed from the heat and hardship of the day. Me and my flopping breast made it inside to collapse onto the waterbed in front of the blessed air conditioner, to recoup and rejoice return to home sweet home.

New Design!

2005-08-01T14:38:00.000-05:00

I would like to thank- Genuine One By One Media Shylah for their terrific work!

DMV or Diarrheal Mahatma Voodoo

2005-07-29T08:57:00.000-05:00

Only in America could a severely flatulent white woman, a nice gentleman from India, and his Haitian wife meet in the line at a Department of Motor Vehicles office, and bond. Still suffering The War of the Bowels, I was feelin' mighty poorly, and the last thing I EVER want to do, (much less when I am suffering from diarrhea) is go to the DMV. But the new Neon had to have the taxes paid and the license purchased, because Husband must commute from the farm through a nearby small town, and the fine upstanding officers who may read this so I am not about to say anything bad about them, do tend to look for those minor infractions like one mile over the speed limit, or two minutes past the expiration of your tags. So, while Husband was sympathetic to my plight, he requested that if it were humanly possible, he wanted me to go take care of the nasty business. And nasty it was. I packed up my troubles (and Kaopectate) in my ol' kit bag (along with all of the necessary paperwork) and biled, biled, biled. The line snaked around in a zigzag pattern, disguising how long it really was. Sneaky bastards. An exotic couple were last in line when I entered the building, and were muttering to one another in accented English, about the pitiful lack of available office workers and the wife's desire to put a hex on the clerks who disappeared through a side door never to be seen again. I stepped into the space behind them and promptly passed gas. They turned, I blushed, and apologized. It was the first of many such moments. My gut ached and cramped. The line never seemed to move forward, but other weary applicants lengthened the queue. The couple in front of me turned again when an involuntary moan escaped my lips. "You sound berry bad," the kindly gentleman from India said. I nodded. Motioning to the slow-moving line and group of folks who continued to pour into the building, he asked, "is it always this crowded?" You know you're in a bad situation when a Calcutta native thinks the place is crowded. I nodded again, afraid to open my mouth, fearing a sulfurous belch might escape and combust, the room was so hot. An old man several spaces ahead of us was pretty clever. He had retrieved a chair from the hallway, and sat in it in line. Every so often, he would abruptly stand up and spout random epitaphs to no one in particular. After his pronouncement, he would sit back down, and doze off for a while. I conversed with the couple, who explained they had met in a community college class. They were very nice, and held my spot for me when I felt something heavier than gas about to escape, and dashed to the toilet. When the old man took his turn with the clerk, the nice gentleman from India retrieved his chair for me. Finally, I was able to shuffle off to beefalo. That is not a typo, it is a product sold at my next stop, the nearby meat store. It a cross between beef cattle and buffalo, high in protein, low in fat, and amusing to imagine being conceived. I drive past the buffalo ranch if I take the gravel road into town, and they are magnificent beasts to behold, but for some reason, picturing one of them fornicating with Elsie the cow, just makes me giggle. I feel a little better today, and plan to sit back and chill, 'cause it's my birthday! Best wishes to all who read!

The Week that Wreaked

2005-07-23T08:54:00.000-05:00

OK, Ordinarily, I am so upbeat and perky I make some people want to puke. This week however, 'twas I doing the puking, as Fate stood back with a .45 and shot b-i-g holes in my Perky bucket, draining it faster than I could patch them. First was the enormous expense involved with getting repairs done to the car that the salesman-who-is-lucky-I'm-too-sick-to-go-kill, said was in excellent condition and had no major flaws. Hmmm.....to me, needing hundreds of dollars worth of brake AND suspension work is not flawless, and I have a pretty lax judgement meter for such things. So the brake work was done Monday, and upon picking up the car, we were informed that much more work was required to make it safe and remove its shimmy (grumpy thought to self regarding salesman-whose-shimmy-should-be removed) Of course, shimmy-removal would require additional parts, which had to be ordered from the planet Expensicus, and be manufactured from a solid block of Unobtainium. Be here Wednesday. Stress rubbed its grimy, gnarled fingers together in glee, deep within my bowels, and saw an opportune time to invite some viral friends over to party. At the stroke of midnight Wednesday, they lit the place up, and I doubled over in agony; a position I have maintained ever since. Groaning, cramping, and running a high fever, I got Husband and his needs-more-work Neon to the mechanic and returned home to spend time admiring the bathroom from various angles, either hunched over or squatting upon the toilet. Thursday there was little improvement in my condition, but duty called in various forms. Middle Son was to travel to the Great White North. Well, the Great Lake North, as he is going to witness his best friend graduate from the Naval Academy in Great Lake, Illinois, just outside Chicago, which shouldn't be possible, because they can't really be old enough for military service. Sigh. Sent him on his merry way, leaving me feeling worn and forlorn. Had fallen behind on packaging orders from online sales, so between fits of pooping and puking, I wrapped parcels, until I ran out of materials. Had to go on the Great Box Hunt. Poured fevered body into blazing hot car, as Stress conspired with Weather for hottest-day-yet, and started out towards office supply store. Didn't make it. Flat-tar, despite receiving a blast of cool air on the way, screamed in protest and gave up. Perhaps it was the suction from the melting asphalt roadway, but the bead burst, and my trip was interrupted with "whumpata, whumpata, whumpata". I know of no situation where that is a good sound. Pulled into Walmart Tire and Lube, which was blessedly nearby, so the poor soul who was stuck out in the blazing sun taking oil change tickets could have a moment of comic relief by asking me what I needed. I motioned to the shredded remains of the tire, and requested a replacement. "Gwana bay wall," he muttered. Fortunately, I speak Redneck, and I nodded acknowledgement of the long wait he was implying. I went inside, spoke to the clerk about purchasing a replacement tire, was advised of the four-hour waiting list, then trudged to the ladies room to barf. I spent a fair amount of time in the ladies room, barfing and pooping, wondering how there could be anything left in my abdomen to come out either end, and being amazed when there was still more. A couple of hours into the wait, hollow now from emptying my intestinal tract and sweat glands, I returned to the automotive department, to collapse onto the wire mesh settee. People came and went, glancing at me with pity, some kindly inquiring about my condition, either out of genuine concern, or fear that they awaited the same fate, since it looked like I could be carnage of the wait. I became one with the wire mesh settee, eyes glazed and dull, occasionally attempting to focus on the security camera's flickering images of the vehicles ahead of mine. At last, I saw movement..... oh praise God, they are pulling Bentra Sentra in! The clerk told me they were going to have me finished up before long, and I could see the relief on his face, since funerals are one of the few services not yet available at Walmart, and he looked pretty sure I was going to die soon. At last, I paid the bill, staggered out into the dusk, drove home and disintegrated into a blubbering blob and went to bed. Friday I sent out the orders, and came home to re-hydrate. I spent much of yesterday in bed, sleeping and sucking down massive quantities of fluids. The window air conditioners struggled valiantly against the 100+ temperatures, but the indoor thermometer read 87 degrees at 10 PM. I ran a tub of cool water and floated in it dreamily until I was a blonde prune, at last dragging my dripping body onto the mattress where I remained until moments ago. I will be welding up the Perky bucket and replenishing it with joviality and unrelenting optimism, so Fate, you'll just have to go take target practice somewhere else. It was a worthy effort, and I salute you. {{Raises jigger of Pepto-Bismol, and nods}}

While my flat-tar gently weeps

2005-07-19T09:13:00.000-05:00

Was I a car killer in a past life? Some sort of mass machine murderer? What have I done to make every mechanical thing on the planet despise me so? The Bentra Sentra, with its sadly smashed-in side, courtesy of French Fry Boy, just ain't been right since he decided to sling it in front of another moving vehicle. Something about pushing it sideways down the road tends to square the tires (or in my native hillbilly language, "tars"). Plus he is very, very bad with curbs. I think he sees them more as, "guidelines" of how far off the roadway to park. He usually scrapes and/or jumps them. So the sad lil' Sentra has a smashed in side, squared tires and bent wheel rims. Bent wheel rims are bad.... very, very bad. Tires recognize their deformity, and struggle vainly to distance themselves (as if they're any better - they're nearly bald for cryin' out loud - and squared, don't forget squared.) Apparently, the automobiles gossiped in the driveway, and Bentra Sentra complained to shiny new Neon about its sad and sorry state. Neon felt magnanimous (don't hate me because I'm beautiful) and reacted with empathetic brake shimmy. Husband's car had to be taken in to the shop. Both rotors would have to be replaced, but the mechanics praised its attractiveness. Neon blushed modestly. Upon returning to mechanic to retrieve Neon, Husband got out of passenger seat of Bentra Sentra, glanced down, and said, "Hey look at this" (which is never a good sign). My front passenger tire, which has been filled with fix-a-flat so many times it probably contains more goo than air, was spewing a small stream of frothy pink gunk out, next to one of the more severe dents in the wheel rim. As the stream dribbled down the tire, it formed a large teardrop shape on the rapidly flattening tire. We went in and signed our souls away to retrieve the Dazzling Dodge, while poor lil' Bentra Sentra sat in the sun, oozing and flattening. I asked one of the mechanics if they could give it a little air to get me home. They told me it was going to need a new wheel. I requested the name of a fine, upstanding salvage dealer who could offer me the most reasonable price. "Where can I get one cheap?" The owner came over, and took a look at BentRim, and said, (knowing we'd just signed our souls over to him) "Hang on a minute, I think I can bang it out a bit, maybe tide you over for a while." He proceeded to use a very large hammer to whack mightily on BentRim. I stood in silent awe. At dawn, it was still holding air, and I mouthed a silent supplication that it will maintain a semi-inflated state until next payday. The-praying-it-rains-dollars-in-Mazoorah Marti

Subaru and Springfield Too

2005-07-15T10:44:00.000-05:00

Old rock and roll never dies. It just gets recycled into commercials that make us so sick of a once-beloved song that our ears bleed when we hear it. Subaru is using the tune, "Dust in the Wind" made famous by the rock band Kansas (not my neighboring state, although the state does frequently have dust storms). I used to love this song, now it makes me wince. I hate Subaru for this. I hate other car companies for ruining other great tunes - Led Zeppelin's "Rock and Roll" hawking Cadillacs, Buicks being hyped to Aerosmith's "Dream On"...MAKE IT STOP! If not being recycled by automakers, the artists (?) themselves, recycle themselves. What is it? Did they go through all of the millions they earned? Sigh, probably so. This morning I saw Rick Springfield on Regis and Kelly. He looks like Skeletor from He-Man cartoons. He's still singing, "I Wish That I Had Jesse's Girl". Why? So she could bring you a can of Ensure? I'm old. I admit it. Hell, I'm proud of it. To have gone through everything, done everything, been everything I have, and come out alive and ready to turn 52 on July 29 (cards and gifts graciously accepted LOL) is quite a feat. I cherish my memories of making out, or spouting philosophically, to those songs. It causes me to have muscle spasms when the commercial plays the first few times and I catch myself singing along, only to have my kids say, "Gee mom, how'd you learn the words to the Mitsubishi song so fast?" Please. Write you own jingles. There must be a line of starving jingle writers somewhere - find it. The-still-loves-rock-and-roll-but-not-as-a-marketing-tool Marti

To Dance, Perchance, to Dream

2005-07-14T10:16:00.000-05:00

Oh. My. God. What a Wednesday. Yeah, I know today is Thursday. It's just the lack of sleep that makes me.....what was I saying? Yesterday I went out on the weekly treasure hunt, to scour the garage sales and thrift stores for those incredible finds that could be turned into profits at online sale venues. Children were nestled all snug in their beds, as visions of vid-yo-games danced in their heads. (Sorry, it was the only way to make the syntax work - LOL). Middle Son, who toils at McDonalds, was off for the day, and joy-in-a-box was winging his way. (No you dirty-minded geezers, not THAT). He had ordered a dance pad. Curious readers around the globe ask, "What's that?" He is SERIOUSLY into arcade games like, "Dance, Dance Revolution" , which the webpage says you can make part of your "lifestyle" {OMG I don't HAVE a lifestyle, but I digress, sleep deprivation does that to me, but I haven't told you about that yet because of these damned digressions, sorry} It is like watching Riverdance (Michael Flatley - Lord {which you have to pronounce as "lard"} of the Dance - remember him? (Mother of freaking gawd, I am trying to find his link and his page takes forever to load - oh there's part of it - he has his OWN I.E. toolbar, isn't that a sign of the Apocalypse? Geez, instead of his own toolbar why doesn't he get a webmaster who can build a page that doesn't take the rest of my life to load, oh dear, I am digressing again) Ah, at last the link. Un-digressing now. Middle Son spends hours at arcades, wearing out shoe leather on this thing. Yet there are those who are better, whose names have been placed in the hallowed ranks of "high scorers" {casts evil eye at snickering geezers} which pops up on the screen before and after the mayhem begins. Being a clever and calculating boy/man, he figured the cost of tokens to achieve the greatness level needed to join the hallowed ranks, and decided to purchase a home version, where he could spend hour upon happy hour rattling the rafters. Yesterday, (cue trumpets playing exalted entrance music) it arrived. The Fed-Ex guy probably hates us. It weighs about 50 lbs. It comes in a box that is larger than my first apartment. I returned from sale-ing, to notice the ground shaking as I got out of the car. This is not earthquake country. Entering my home was like going into the funhouse at a carnival (not my beloved-but-cancelled-by-those-wretches-at-HBO TV-program Carnivale', oh gawd I'm doing it again....focus, Marti, focus) The floor seemed to tip and roll, and strange lights and noises were emanating from his quarters. I approached to see him sweating like he was being chased by wolves. On the floor was (cue trumpeters again...I don't care...wake them up, I didn't get any sleep, they can't either)... THE PAD. click to enlarge (Trumpets blare, slightly off-key) To protect the privacy of Middle Son, and the aesthetic sensibilities of viewers, mommy has used her photo program to black out the background of dirty clothes, Krispy Kreme Donut boxes, and Monster Energy Drink cans. click to enlarge He danced. He smiled. He sweat. All into the wee hours of the morn. I attempted several times (vainly, but with increasing degrees of intensity) to request he cease and desist. Each time was met with a charming smile, a sincere-sounding apology, and what he thought was an appropriate period of silence. Then it began again. click to enlarge So that's the tale. I shall plot my revenge when I am more alert, and can fully open both eyes. Beware, my child - The Wrath of Mom approaches. The needs-a-nap-and-a-good-scheme Marti

Happy Father's Day, Your Car Was Stolen

2005-06-19T20:50:00.000-05:00

Today, we went over to visit my husband's parents, so they can wish Husband Happy Birthday, and we can wish his dad a Happy Father's Day. They are great people, sharp despite advanced years. They get out every day and do things. Today the thing they got to get out and do was drive us home after my husband's car was STOLEN FROM IN FRONT OF THEIR HOUSE.Yup. Stolen. Gone with the wind...whoosh. We said our good-byes to mom and dad, walk outside of their quiet, suburban, upscale home...and his car is no longer there. Stunned, we all look at the place it was parked, as though it was simply invisible, and was still there, just unseen. We actually walked into the spot, almost "feeling" for where it should be.Then we went back inside his parents' house and called the police. Report stolen '91 Nissan Stanza with 250,000 miles on it and a bad muffler. Thought the police did a good job of keeping straight faces. Husband had spent the drive over telling the kids the sources and possible repairs for the various noises the automobile emitted, and how once those repairs were done, he was certain he would be able to hit 300,000 miles with the old girl, as he patted the dashboard lovingly. He had driven this car longer than any vehicle in his life, and is reacting much like having a child kidnapped. He paces, he goes to bed, he glares at me angrily, he turns to me for comfort. He has a sad, haunted look about him that breaks my heart.

E-Baying at the Moon

2005-05-30T05:40:00.000-05:00

Fielded questions from E-Bay all week. People love it or hate it. Many who hate it write. Call us bad names. Tell us we are irresponsible. Write extremely polite responses back, knowing that will infuriate the snotty ones even more ~snicker~ At last the wild ride is finally over! After 24 bids, hundreds of questions, comments and hate mails, the Two Thousand Dollar French Fry Auction closed. The buyer was someone in the Kansas City area that wishes to maintain their privacy. The closing price was $51.00, which will go into the same fund Andrew's paychecks go into, to save for the repairs. All in all, it was quite an experience!I never dreamed how much anger something like this would incite. However, there was an outpouring of support, and letters from people who found the whole thing clever and amusing (as it was intended). And I got to really piss off some don't-know-how-to-take-a-joke jerks ~snort~ The-tired-little-auction-er Marti

We Got Interviewed on TV!

2005-05-23T05:30:00.000-05:00

Middle Son wants to raise money to repair his mother's car sooner than he can save up the money for it, because it leaks when it rains, so he has put his French fry on auction at E-Bay. Tess Koppelman, Fox 4 TV News Posted:5/23/2005 9:35:02 PM Two Thousand Dollar French Fry For Sale Blue Springs, MO - So it's not really worth two-thousand dollars, but the Lawrence family calls it "The two-thousand dollar French fry," because that's exactly what it's worth to them. A couple of weeks ago, 19 year-old Andrew had to work late at McDonalds, and he got an order of fries for the drive home. "The fry fell on the floor," Andrew explained, "so I picked it up and didn't see the stop sign there and smack right into the car." It was his mother's car and it was just a couple of days after Mothers Day. "It was the worst call, 'mom, I wrecked your car,'" he said. Mom's reaction? "Oh Andrew!," Marti Lawrence said laughing. She rushed to the accident scene and saw no one was hurt. The bad news, though, the insurance would only cover the other drivers damage. The bills for the towing, the repairs to get the car drivable again, and the final cost to fix the damage all came to two-thousand dollars. So his mother made the plaque for Andrew, featuring the two-thousand dollar French fry. "I made the plaque for him as a reminder to never take his eyes off the road," she said. Then a friend gave them an idea. "Maybe we could sell it on E-bay." So it's there now, up for bids. "Right now it's not going for much," Andrew said. Marti says her son isn't trying to skirt his responsibility, he's going to pay for the damage. But maybe some kind soul out there knows what it's like to be a teenager, and make a mistake. After all, he's learned his lesson, "don't drive through stop signs and watch where you're going on the road, that's generally a good idea," he says chuckling. And next time, hold the fries. To check out Andrew's auction, click on the link: (Note - the auction is now closed, but I saved the page as it appeared) Tess Koppelman, Fox 4 News The-didn't-raise-no-dummies-only-bad-drivers Marti

The Two Thousand Dollar French Fry

2005-05-12T07:32:00.000-05:00

Got up at 4 AM to take Husband in to work, terrible storms raging. The body shop guy called and said he had my car ready early. Middle Son and I went down there together in Husband's car to pick up MY car. Husband's air conditioner needed to be fixed, so I called the mechanic (a different guy than the auto body guy) and asked if he could fix the A/C. Middle Son followed me with my car, and we dropped Husband's car off at the mechanic. I start to drive my car back home, and when we turn a corner it makes this awful clunk noise. So back to body shop guy we go. He gets out his hi-tech tools - a chain, a hammer and big jack-like device, and starts pounding and pulling and jacking some more on my smashed fender, to get it far enough away from the tire and wheel to stop the noise. He goes for a short test drive and it is still doing it, so he repeats the procedure. It was finally to the point where we could drive it and most of the time it didn't make the noises. Hadn't heard from the mechanic, so I called and they said his old A/C still ran on Freon, the now-outlawed coolant, and all of the fittings would have to be replaced before they could even test it! Dollar signs were dancing in my head! Daughter and I drove out to the Sprint office to pick up Husband (it finally stopped raining, thank God) and he came out, found us at the back of the parking lot, took one look at my smashed up car (he hadn't seen it) and said, "Damn that's ugly!" Like duh. We went by the mechanic and they had fixed his A/C, which cost a little over a hundred dollars, but he was afraid they were going to have to replace his compressor or something and it would be a lot higher, so that wasn't too bad. When we got home, there was a message that a DVD Daughter wanted for her birthday, but wasn't in stock, had come in from when we ordered it, so she and I went to pick up Middle Son at the end of his shift at McD, then the three of us went on up to the mall and got the DVD. Finally got story out of Middle Son on why he failed to stop. Says he was eating French fries, and dropped one, leaned down to pick it up. I glued a French Fry to a small wooden plaque with a label, "The Two Thousand Dollar French Fry" to serve a reminder of why he should always keep his eyes on the road. Fall asleep at midnight with some of my fingers glued together. The-sticky-and-exhausted-Marti

May Day, May Day, Son Has Wrecked Car

2005-05-11T07:27:00.000-05:00

Middle Son asked if he could drive himself in to his job at McDonalds yesterday, because on Monday he had to work an hour overtime due to high volume, which also prevented him from being able to call and tell us, so we sat in the parking lot for an hour, waiting for him to get out. He left McDonalds at 7 PM last evening and headed home. He didn't make it. He is not injured (want to get that out there right away, to ease everyone's minds). He got T-boned at an intersection and the driver side of the car (MY car) is caved in from right behind the driver door (thank you God) to the rear wheel, which was shoved in so it was at a 45 degree angle when they pulled the vehicles apart. His first accident, let's put that in the scrapbook. The good news is that he is alive and unharmed.The bad news is I want to kill him. The accident was his fault. He had a stop sign, they did not. Both the driver and the passenger of the car that plowed into him said he didn't come to a complete stop. He was issued a ticket for failure to stop and has to go to court next month. (Aww, another first.) My car had to be towed and I now have to contact the insurance companies to find out what this is all going to cost him. I have to drive husband in to work and go pick him up, plus driving son to McDonalds and contacting mechanic, insurance agents, etc. Yes it IS the same car, the same side, as the door that was just repaired, previously held together with bungee cords. The dented-in area is just behind the door though, so it appears to be unaffected. When I called the auto shop guy to request an estimate he got a chuckle out of the coincidence. The makes-all-her-friends-feel-lucky Marti

Daughter Turns 16 - Poem

2005-05-04T06:30:00.000-05:00

OK, I want to know who slipped this teenager into the little bed I left a toddler in. I mean, she can NOT be 16 already! Wasn't she just in kindergarten? She is my BABY! Ain't gonna be no more babies, mama done turned the factory into a playground! ~snort~ Anyway, I wrote her an incredibly sappy poem - Happy birthday baby girl: Today my daughter turns sixteen Much of her day, will be routine She'll go to school, she'll see her friends It's only me this time transcends I see my baby, almost grown With lipstick now, and sweet cologne From infant into womanhood Doing the things, I knew she could Through all of time, we mothers watch As time carves yet another notch We laugh, we cry, we know it's true That she'll see things we never do The cycle turns, the days slip by Passing, like blinking of an eye I do not weep, I do not mourn The aging of this child, last born I smile at her, she smiles at me I know this is how things should be To future bright, I send this dove Forever feathered with my love The-way-too-sappy-mom Marti

Been to Hell and Have the Receipt

2005-04-21T16:18:00.000-05:00

Went out to take Daughter to school this morning and discovered one tire was flat. Found a can of fix-a-flat and pumped it up to get to gas station, filled it with air to get her to school, returned to gas station for more air/more fix-a-flat. Took car up to Unnamed-Large-Chain-Retailer, stopping again for air. Filled tire with air and got in car, slammed driver's door and it popped back open. Door would not latch. Inspected latch, and discovered part has broken. Rolled window down and held door with arm hanging out, hugging door, to finish trip to U-L-C-R. U-L-C-R auto service says it will be 45 minutes. Three hours later, check in, car not in shop yet. Go to food court. Order cheeseburger and medium drink. Lady says combo with fries is cheaper, I say no thanks, I don't want any fries. She apparently has no cash register key for cheeseburger and drink but no fries, has to void several items individually, such as minus cheese slice, etc. Tire finally replaced, drive to auto body shop, hugging door to keep it shut. Auto body man has good laugh. Tells me I need new door hinges and latches. Laughs some more, says Nissan does not make Sentra replacement hinges. Says Nissan recommends replacing entire door and front quarter panel. I am not amused, or even sure if he is joking. Kindly auto body man takes pity on me, says he may be able to jerry-rig something. Sits at desk and does some figuring, says minimum cost will be between $200 - $300. Smiles, tells me it will take all day, and he is booked up until Monday. I take the appointment, come home, hugging door to keep it shut. Sort out papers and do double-take at lunch receipt. Please note order number. The been-to-hell-and-have-the-receipt Marti

Is There Anybody Out There?

2005-02-26T05:45:00.000-06:00

Does anyone watch Joan of Arcadia? It's a very sweet show, it comes on Friday nights at 8 PM on CBS. It is one of the few shows I can get the entire family to sit down and watch together. (My daughter won't watch Carnivale with us, but my 19 year old son does). The premise is that this high school girl speaks to God. They had an open house at her high school, and all of the parents, teachers and students were mingling around, all wearing those little stick-on name tags. God always appears to Joan in the form of an ordinary person, so this little old man walks up to her to impart some words of wisdom, and his name tag said, "Avatar" LOL! It just made me giggle! The-looking-for-laughs-anywhere-I-can-get-them Marti

Rhyme Time Hillbilly

2005-01-27T05:44:00.000-06:00

My mother-in-law (who is an absolute angel) gave me a ton of jigsaw puzzles that she had worked, and asked me to sell them at online auction. She said, "Now I GUARANTEE that all of the pieces are here for these, and that they are in fine shape. I promise, 'cause I am a good Christian woman and I don't swear". Then she giggled like only an adorable grandmother can giggle. Overstock.com recently launched an auction section, and they are so much nicer and cheaper than E-Bay, that I have been listing most of my items there. (Their commercials are for, "The Big O") I have been listing items there for a couple of months (since they opened). They randomly select items to feature on their home page, and I was STUNNED to see one of my jigsaw puzzles highlighted there today! Of the hundreds of thousands of listings, mine, which includes a little song parody about my darling mother-in-law having so many jigsaw puzzles (to the Beverly Hillbillies theme, "The Ballad of Jed Clampett"), was selected! The Ballad of Puz Rampant Come and listen to my story of my dear mother-in-law, A sweet puzzler, she has lots of them, jigsaw, And then one day, she was puttin' one away, But the closet was so full, that the box just wouldn't stay! Hmmmm, she said, "Gotta go! Selling spree!" Well the first thing you know, she told me of her issue, And she said, "Help! What is there to do?" I said, "Don't you worry, our solution's Overstock, We will put them up for sale, at their online auction block!" Great, they are, All the pieces! Guar-O-tee! Well now it's time for you to come and gaze at what we've got, You won't be disappointed when you look at what you've bought. They're all a pretty picture, and the pieces are all there, We promise - 'cause she's so sweet that she doesn't ever swear! Ornaments too. Pretty ones. Hallmark Keepsake. Y'all come back now, y'hear? The-rhymin'-and-dime-in'-her-way-to-auction-success Marti

The Pigness of it All

2005-01-26T05:23:00.000-06:00

I am honored that my friend Pam from the Carnivale message board has chosen to name her new Guinea Pig after me (I go by Cyberpumpkin there). {{For the uninformed, Carnivale is a TV show on HBO. Wonderfully quirky}} So I am a Gawdmother to a lil' bundle o' joy. She wrote, "I set her up in a huge plastic bin. She has a hidey hut, and a hay manger, and a salt lick, and wooden chew sticks. I feed her one fruit and one vegetable twice a day. So far I have discovered that she doesn't like oranges. She loves celery tops and carrots and grapes and french bread. She has rewarded me today with recognition. I had my Mom hold her while I scooped the corners of her bin and cleaned up a little and prepared her breakfast. Then I went in and sat across from my Mom and started talking, and with the sound of my voice Pumpkin perked up and stuck her little nose in the air and was trying to sniff me out. Every time I said something she turned her head in my direction and grunt/squeeled. I have only had her for five days, and she is still getting used to it here, but at least she doesn't try to run every time I go to pick her up now." It brings tears to my eyes......they are both so sweet, I could just eat them up. But I won't, Guinea pigs have too much dark meat on them. {Thank Gawd Pamelot knows I'm kidding! LOL) The-proud-pig-gawdmother Marti

Hosed

2005-01-21T05:14:00.000-06:00

Husband's car overheated, leading to a comedy of mechanical errors, (because I just gotta laugh or I'll lose my mind!) How many people have a car overheat in JANUARY? First, a heater hose split. Car overheated. He pulled off the freeway, and being the resourceful fellow he is, he stuffed a SOCKET into the hose and wrapped it with electrical tape, to get him to safety. Hose was replaced. Next day, water pump blew up. Took that in for repairs. Turns out hose split/water pump problems were due to blown head gasket. So his car was in the shop all that week. Repairs were $1,500. The fifteen-hundred-dollar-hosed Marti

NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS FOR CATS

2005-01-07T05:05:00.000-06:00

I will not slurp fish food from the surface of the aquarium. I must not help myself to Q-tips, and I must certainly not proceed to stuff them down the sink's drain. I will not eat large numbers of assorted bugs, then come home and puke them up so the humans can see that I'm getting plenty of roughage. I will not stand on the bathroom counter, stare down the hall, and growl at NOTHING after my human has been watching The X-Files. I will not use the bathtub to store live mice for late-night snacks. I will not perch on my human's chest in the middle of the night and stare into her eyes until she wakes up. We will not play Herd of Thundering Wildebeests Stampeding Across the Plains of the Serengeti over any humans' bed while they're trying to sleep. I will try to remember that screaming at the can of food will not make it open itself. I will try to remember that I cannot leap through closed windows to catch birds outside. If I forget this and bonk my head on the window and fall behind the couch in my attempt, I will not get up and do the same thing again. I will not assume the patio door is open when I race outside to chase leaves. I will not intrude on my human's candle-lit bubble bath and singe my bottom. I will not stick my paw into any container to see if there is something in it. If I do, I will not hiss and scratch when my human has to shave me to get the rubber cement out of my fur. I will try to remember that if I bite the cactus, it will bite back. I will try to remember that when it rains, it will be raining on all sides of the house. It is not necessary to check every door. I will try to remember that the dog can see me coming when I stalk him. I will not play "dead cat on the stairs" while people are trying to bring in groceries or laundry, or else one of these days, it will really come true. When the humans play darts, I will not leap into the air and attempt to catch them. I will not swat my human's head repeatedly when she's on the family room floor trying to do sit ups. I will try to remember that when my human is typing at the computer, her forearms are *not* a hammock. I will try to remember that computer and TV screens do not exist to backlight my lovely tail. I will try to remember that I am a walking static generator. My human doesn't need my help installing a new board in her computer.

My Big Baby

2005-01-06T05:05:00.000-06:00

Today is Eldest Son's birthday. Love you, sweetie. How did he grow up so fast? How did he get so old when I still feel so young? The-doesn't-understand-this-whole-space-time-continuum-thingy Marti

Begin the Blog-uine

2005-01-01T04:52:00.000-06:00

I like the idea of being able to share my thoughts with y'all whoever, wherever, you may be. Maybe make you smile, give you a little hope that if a woman who has been through the kind of shit I have been through, (hope that saying "shit" doesn't get my ass kicked off of here - also hope saying "ass" doesn't LOL) can still laugh, then maybe you can laugh at the absurdity of it all, as well. The-new-to-blogging-but-not-to-life Marti