The Phone Rang 4 Times As I Wrote This Post

It Rings Too Much.

It must be a law or something, but every time I get into something, be it a movie, a blog post, the shower, and most importantly a NAP the phone must ring. I was home all day the other day, I was mostly bored doing nothing. It was a quiet morning. I decided that afternoon to take a nap, a forty minute nap, the phone rang 3 times during that nap. Three times! In forty minutes.

I just sat down to read blogs, the phone rings. Perhaps I could save myself an awful lot of trouble if I were to put a phone downstairs. I really shouldn't blame the people calling, it is not their fault I get annoyed because I have to run all the way upstairs to answer the phone which is nothing more than a bother to me. What really ticks me off is when it is a telemarketer waking me up from my nap. I don't even bother with any niceties anymore. I just hang up on them immediately.

Anyway it was my mom just now. "Hello?"

"Did you just call me?" she asks.

"No, it wasn't me." I reply.

"Hmm. Well it might have been your sister then."

"Yep, maybe."

"Well, I have to run, have to get back in the bathroom, that's where I was when the phone rang before" she sighs.

"Ok Mom. I'll talk to you later" I laugh.

I love my mother. She does this at least once a week. I have tried to get her to get caller i.d. She won't. "That's why I have the answering machine" she says. She hates answering machines, yet she expects people to leave messages on hers, and even so, if they don't leave a message, she then has no idea who called, and I get these calls from her. She is such a dear sweet mother, I don't mind that she calls. I adore my mom. I just find this particular thing rather funny, sort of like her affinity for pie.

Mom always has pie. If you've got a hankerin' for pie, get yourself over to my mom's house. She often has two. Just the other day I had a piece of peach pie. It was all right. I said, "mmm, this pie is good, but nearly as good as the peach pies you make." She agreed, but stipulated that these are just much easier to make since all she has to do is bake it. Sure, I'll give her that, but store bought pie is just not as good. Mom never used to rely on the store bought pie for her family, but now she and dad are just as happy with it. She always offers me a piece of pie whenever I go to visit. I really love that about her.

I should go over and make some pies with her one afternoon. I miss her company. I don't know why I can't make time to get over there often enough. I get home and all I want to do is stay here, and work around my house.

Well, I have to go return some phone calls. Be back later. I've got a hankering for a nap as well. A nice nap in front of the fan with my two fat pillows, and my fluffy blankie wadded up with my leg thrown over it. It's almost as good as homemade pie.

Something New

Is Needed.

A new post. Something. Anything? Hmm. Seen any good movies lately? I finally watched "The Pursuit of Happyness" At first I was a bit hesitant to watch it, I was somewhat familiar with the story line, my husband and I had seen the man and his son on a talk show years ago, Oprah I think, and sort of knew what the movie was about. It was an incredibly touching tale, and we never forgot the story, but when the movie came out, I have to admit I was a little afraid that Hollywood would make it into some leftist swill blaming all of this man's woes on everyone else. I was pleasantly surprised that the story line as I remembered it from years ago was more or less in tact as I recalled it, and it was really made into an inspiring movie. I would highly recommend watching it.

It seems that putz Michael Moore has made some sort of new movie. Now now, I know name calling is not considered nice, or an intelligent way to argue, but I can't deny the words that want to come out. I'm just giving my opinion, the man is a putz. But is he really as stupid as we think? Calling him stupid is the gut reaction I have to him, but actually, he is rather cunning in a way. He has succeeded in convincing many people into believing the crap he puts forward as information, or even truth, which says quite a lot.

When I get into an elevator with a co-worker who says, "I love Michael Moore." I have to think we should not underestimate the number of people who follow his line of thinking hook, line and sinker. I can't even think about it. It is too frightening. That the man is making millions selling commie flap trap is a sure sign he is not just the stupid fat putz he appears to be. He is actually selling these ideas, for money. That's way smarter than the rest of the commies, they had to do the messy work of killing all of their opposition, never mind the fact that there is no shortage of sadists in the world willing to be used in that end.

Which brings me to, when is that dirty old bastard in Cuba going to die? And does it even matter? I'm sure his predecessor is already lined up. We've got baby Kim in North Korea, I'm sure there is a baby Castro waiting in the wings. Which reminds me, Danny Glover can just go suck it. Making movies with Hugo Chavez! How gay can you get?

This is why I am always so skeptical about watching movies any more. I have a hard time swallowing the message anymore. I can't do it. You know Fred Reed, I used to read him a lot. He said something one time that has stuck with me, it goes something like this, on t.v. they don't blatantly tell you, this is how you should behave, this is how you should think, this is what you should find acceptable, nobody would listen to them if they did. No, he says, they SHOW you over and and over and over again these things, until it becomes the picture of what culture, society, and the world should look like. Pretty darn smart thinking there.

That Fred Reed, he ruined me for the entertainment business now because I can't watch anything without asking myself, what is the message? What are they trying to show me? Well, I exaggerate a bit on that, but I do keep it in mind. I try not to take it for granted when I watch a movie, or t.v. show that I am just going to be entertained, maybe even moved, made to laugh or be inspired, there are times I have walked away when I felt someone has taken the opportunity to try to sell something beyond that.

I think that's enough for one day. Hugs.

Not a happy post

.

At one of the several duty stations my husband was assigned to while serving in the military, I worked at a little hospital as an admission clerk. I enjoyed the job very much because I worked with a bunch of crazy people, and we didn't have many patients each day so we had way too much time to goof off. There was a little old lady who was the day shift switchboard operator, she had been there forever. She used to always wear this little pink smock. I had been introduced to her when I started, but I rarely interacted with her as I usually worked the night shift, but I remember her.

Some time after my husband had been assigned somewhere else I received an email from one of the nurses I used to work with, in it she relayed the horrible news that this poor old lady had been found at home tied to a chair, where she had been beaten to death. It was dreadful news. I remember telling my husband that this woman had worked her whole life, and lived her life only to have it ended by someone so evil it was just unbearable to think about. I don't know if the crime was ever solved.

There was this kid who used to hang out with us in high school. There was a big group of us, and we used to go in the mountains and get drunk on Mad Dog 20/20, horrible stuff tastes the same going down as it does coming back up, and we would listen to music, and just be kids. Pretty harmless stuff for the most part. This one kid, we tolerated him I guess. None of the girls liked him because he would develop immediate crushes on any girl who would give him any attention. He was particularly fond of my best friend who was not interested in him in the least.

Well he had this thing that he did. He would get drunk and then it would start, his poor me, I want to die, nobody loves me, I hate myself, I'm a loser and I want to die. The first time the girls would feel sorry for him and try to tell him not to feel that way, and give him all of this sympathy. When it became a pattern, everyone would pretty much just roll their eyes and suggest he go find some place to pass out.

He always did that. I didn't like hanging out with him. I thought he was strange. I tolerated him for the most part he was my boyfriend's friend. Well it turns out the little creep was a rapist and ended up going to prison for life for raping and killing two people. One of which was a 12 year old girl. He dumped the body of the little girl right at the very spot where in high school we used to all go and party. Bastard should have been put to death for what he did, but he got life in prison.

One night my mother's cousin's husband was talking on the phone with his son when a man stormed through the front door with a knife and stabbed him 17 times. Luckily, his son heard the commotion and called 911, or he would have died. He almost did die. He lost most of the blood in his body. He was so traumatized that he has never really been the same. The man who tried to kill him was a disgruntled employee, the cousin's husband had been his boss and laid him off because he was a shitbag loser. The man went to prison. He did not get life in prison. He should have at the very least been sent to prison for the rest of his life.

There was a girl I went to high school with. She got pregnant. Her mother immediately dropped her off at a group home for pregnant teen agers and drove off in her Cadillac on her merry way. The girl went on welfare, and eventually met a G.I. who she married. He was not the father of the little girl that she had, but it didn't matter, in no time at all she was pregnant with his baby. One day he killed her little girl. He hit her in the stomach so hard that he ruptured her spleen and she died from internal injuries. She was 17 months old. He went to prison. I believe he got 30 years. He will be out in about 10 years I suppose. He will be in his 40's. Still young enough to enjoy some sort of life.

Want to know something even more strange? The mother of the baby, at one time she had a relationship with the above mentioned murderer--the one who raped and murdered two people. Basically, she has been involved with at least two murderers. Talk about your lousy taste in men. I stopped speaking to her many years ago. She still tries to contact me every so often. Usually she calls my mom and asks her to have me call her. My mom knows I want nothing to do with this woman, and so never gives her any information about me.

Perhaps it says I have lousy taste in friends, but in reality, I was never really good friends with either of those people. They were around, there were lots of people around, but something in my gut always told me something was wrong there. I knew it. I was young and much more trusting and tolerant, and I ignored my gut.

I think sometimes we ignore our gut to our own detriment. We over ride it to avoid hurting people's feelings. I try not to do that anymore. If I don't feel right about someone, I don't waste nearly as much time exploring those feelings. I just move on.

The reason I brought all of this up is because it has been on my mind. The other day I read a post by Tony at Blah Blah Blog, it seems someone near him has been murdered. Had her life taken from her by an evil murderer. I have been thinking about how close to home these things hit sometimes. Sometimes the world is an awful scary place to live, even in this great nation of ours.

You Deserve Better Than This

I Will Try To Do Better.

I woke up very early this morning. Something about pizza, hot wings, and lemonade will do that too you, but you don't want to hear about all of that I am sure. My muse is always alive and kicking first thing in the morning, trouble is, I am usually snoring away at that time so all you get is my usual boring stuff when I finally do make it out of bed.

There I was with a nasty case of heartburn with swirling thoughts of this and that, and I decided I should get up and write something on the blog which I haven't even checked in more than a couple of days. The trouble is now that I am more than half awake, all of the creative thoughts have left me. Weird. I know.

I actually started this blog in 2004, but in a fit of bi-polar disorder coupled with slight paranoia I decided to delete the entire thing. I didn't save any of it at all. I just erased it. A couple of people have expressed dismay at that decision, I've even wondered what the dickens got into me to do such a thing. Anyway, it is done. I can't undo it. I regret losing some posts that I wrote about my mom which I thought really captured her persona. I've tried to redo them, but I haven't had much luck with that.

My former English teachers would probably take a ruler or at least a spiral notebook and beat me upside the head with it if they knew how often I actually start sentences with the word, "I". It is really a bit off putting even to me. I--will try to do better.

The kiddo's summer vacation officially begins today. I don't know who is happier about that. It will be nice to have a break from the school. The end of this school year was a very unpleasant time. Those people kept on ticking me off with some of their antics, some of which made my daughter cry more than was necessary. I'm still fuming about some things, and I really don't want to get into it right now with my heartburn already bothering me. That is a post for later, I don't want to ruin my calm mood right now.

I have taken to calling everyone "darling" which I say with some sort of accent. It is a rather odd personality tick that I have developed which I can't seem to shake. It's my flair. I don't really want to talk about my flair. (Office Space, love that movie)

Those darn dogs went and dug up and tore up all the hard work hubby and I did in the back yard. This week I will have to go out there, shovel up all of the wood chips we put there to kill the weeds, and redo the landscaping fabric we put under it which is nearly shredded now from the dogs digging in there.

The first time they just displaced things, so I went and got some pots of flowers and placed them over the spot they dug up. The second time was when they really trashed it, I found the pots in the yard, and one I had placed in there with nothing more than soil and seeds had been completely dumped over and drug through the yard. I know it was the dog and not the horrendous wind we've had lately because the pot had bit marks on it, and I saw the boy dog go and drag the thing off of the porch later that day.

So hubby went and put a bench in there, some cinder blocks (not my decor of choice mind you) and the pots of flowers back until we could get in there and repair the destruction. Oh but I intend to fix their wagons, I am going to put rocks down in there. I want to see them dig up rocks without any opposable thumbs. I want to see it.

One of my many German neighbors told me the other day that the yard looks better than it ever has. That was nice to hear, we have been putting in a great deal of effort there.

That is pretty much all I have right now. I'm thinking about yard work, I can't wait to get out there. I know I am a total nerd. Or obsessed. I should have time to post more this week. We shall see.

We Don't Even Know What We Are Doing

Doing It Anyway.

Hubby and I did yard work all day. I think he sees it as work. I do too, but I also see it as fun. We worked for hours on this one flower bed in our back yard. The flower bed is nothing but a horrendous mess of weeds that eventually approach the height of the privacy fence beside them. The sunflowers haven't come in yet, but oh boy when they do it is a huge mess.

I like sunflowers as much as the next person, I was born in Kansas land of the sunflower, but when mixed in with several different species of noxious weeds the whole situation gets out of control immediately and the result is a sorry looking eyesore that is nearly impossible to mow beside without getting scraped and scratched by stickers and possibly even stung by bees and wasps. It is just not good.

The weed wacker can barely manage the majority of very thick weeds, and it quickly gets out of hand. We decided to take the bull by the horns before it reached its usual unbearable stage. We took a couple of hours to cut down each and every one of those weeds which have already got more established than we would like, and after we got it all cleared out we put weed killer down, and then covered it with that weed preventer stuff. After having done all of that, we finally filled the beds with mulch, or wood chips if you will.

The combination of the weed preventer fabric, and the mulch will hopefully prevent the above mentioned scenario, and although it is rather plain, we felt it was a fairly cost effective solution to the problem. We thought about planting some bushes in there, but decided that would cost too much right now. Instead we decided that later we can place nice looking containers of flowers, and hey, it is the perfect location for about 50 garden gnomes. Hey, why not?

As of yet, we don't have any lawn ornaments, but I think a couple of cutesy tootsy things placed in there would be kind of fun, and it would give me the perfect reason to buy that totally cool Buddha statue I saw at Lowes. I was a little apprehensive about using someone's religious symbol as a simple garden ornament, and this has prevented me from buying one in the first place, but I really do like the statue. I'm not sure if that sort of thing is really acceptable since I know next to nothing about Buddhism anyway.

I just thought how distasteful I found it when I heard of someone placing a Crucifix in a jar of urine, and don't want to be a hypocrit here. Granted, the Buddha statue would be treated much more nicely in my backyard anyway.

I remember my aunt used to have this little black boy statue in her yard, a lot of people had them. Someone decided these were derogatory and people seemed to almost simultaneously decide to remove these things from their yards. Maybe they just fell out of fashion, I don't know I was a little kid then.

I heard several years ago that some of Roseanne Barr's neighbors were highly offended that she had taken to placing hundreds of plastic pink flamingos in her yard in the high class neighborhood she was living in. I found that story amusing as I imagined some rich folks being bent out of shape about her cheap lawn decor, never mind the fact that a hundreds of plastic pink flamingos are not cheap for most people.

We haven't decided exactly what we will do with the new flower bed. It won't be a flower bed in the traditional sense because there is no way a flower could survive in there with those vicious weeds. Our goal was to kill them. Hopefully we will succeed at that. We didn't really know what we were doing. We just did it, and are hoping it works.

Mad Dogs

Demand Their Day.

The dogs are not very happy that I neglected to post pictures of them as well. The fact that my last post included pics of nothing but those quote, "orange, eating and pooping machines," upset them to no end. I anticipate a rebellion brewing and will definitely make sure the trash can is out of reach tonight.

I can't blame the dogs really. According to them, those lazy cats do nothing but eat food and then poop it out in cat litter that we have to buy and change all the time, and they even have the nerve to scratch at the brand new furniture. One has to admit that at least the dogs do provide a service by barking at strangers, and guarding the home from intruders. The cats don't do that.

Yes, for once the dogs have managed to convince me that there are indeed creatures in this house who are lazier than they are, and that is saying a lot. At least the cats don't hog up the bed, that's a plus in their favor, and they have figured out how to use a toilet, even if it is only a rudimentary box full of sand.

Which brings me to the question that all thinking people eventually ask themselves, is this really what life is all about? Eating and pooping? Everything in life seems to come back to this simple thing. It is why billions of people get out of bed everyday.

Some people believe that is all there is to life, that we are simply creatures with biological functions and nothing more. When we stop eating and pooping we die. That's it. I can't believe that. I've never been able to believe that. It is not because I am scared to believe it, it is because it doesn't make sense to me.

The universe is an amazing thing. When I was a teen ager I could sit and ponder the universe for hours. I would follow my dad around the house picking his brain about space, the moon, the stars and the planets. I would ask where the universe ends, how far does it go, does it really go on forever, how is it contained, what is it contained in, where did the universe come from and many other questions. Whenever I think about God, I think about the universe. I've always felt that somehow the two were connected.

This is why I find faith so much easier than atheism. It seems pretty darn bold to just say, there is no God. Period. Now I can understand a little waffling when it comes to religion, but to just outright say there is no Creator? I don't understand that. How exactly does one reach that conclusion without any evidence other than scientific theories. I suppose they base it on a lack of evidence. That is the usual argument I hear.

Anyway, definitely a good after dinner front porch swing topic. Whatever the case may be, my dogs don't seem to care one way or the other, but I can't say for sure that they haven't thought of it though. One thing is certain, they definitely do not like most cats.

When Can't Think of Anything to Say

Post Pictures Instead.

In The Midst Of My Meltdown

Must Make Time For Blogging.

All right. I do that a lot, start posts with "all right" that is. It's my way of saying, "listen up people, for once I've got something to say, and it might be good." Even if most likely it really isn't good, it is just me hoping, or possibly a desperate cry for attention. My friend has a saying for when we, she or someone does something bad, "Going to hell in gasoline drawers," she'll say, and I always promise myself that someday I will work that statement into an everyday conversation, but I forget to do it besides I probably wouldn't say it right anyway.

Well lately I've been running around in a pair of gas soaked panties feeling like I am going to burn for my nasty mood and demeanor. Cranky? Yes. Bitchy? Certainly. Hormonal? What's it to you punk? Yeah. I've been mean. Meaner than usual? Check. I don't know why. Women hate it when people say, "are we hormonal?" Yet, that's the first thing we say when we are, and we know we have been bad. Men hate to hear it, they think it is just an excuse to be bitchy.

Well it isn't. I genuinely feel out of sorts when my hormones get out of whack, and I most definitely cannot be trusted with any decisions of importance. I cannot be trusted. I will make a choice that is based purely on emotion, anger, all around meanness or just to spite whoever has made the foolish mistake of crossing my path sideways. At times like these I am prone to angry ranting all while I stifle back tears. At times like these I can defend myself with a verbal ferocity that makes grown men cry for momma. And then I want to cry, and I think everyone is mad at me, and hates me, Lord, am I bi-polar?

That's the kind of day I had. It started off beautiful and full of laughter, and it ended with yelling and bitterness. No, I didn't yell at poor hubby, I love him. I basically directed it at someone who pissed me off, and he yelled too but eventually we hugged and made up. I had a legitimate beef, but I do feel my emotions got the better of me even though I am pretty sure my husband would say I handled it well. For some reason he really gets a kick out of me ripping someone a new one when they need it.

I'm exhausted. Will be back soon when the meanness subsides a bit. Tomorrow maybe.

School Is Out

For Most Kids.

The year is coming to an end for most of the children suffering in the institutions known as public schools, except for at my kid's school where they have the nerve to make the children go for two more whole weeks before they are released. The daughter is extremely unhappy about this. I haven't even told her that most of the kids she knows had their last day of school almost a week ago. No, this would probably push her over the edge and make her even more difficult to motivate to get up and go.

She is completely fed up you see. She told me this morning, "I HATE SCHOOL!" as she whined and complained. Some people might think a longer year is a good thing, a sign that the school is wanting to spend as much time as possible educating their young charges, and the more time spent filling their little heads the better. They are wrong of course because the fact of the matter is, the children are there yes, they are, but they are essentially just punching the clock and being present.

The problem with schools these days is that they don't spend enough time making children hate school for the right reasons. Perfectly healthy minded children have hated school for as long as the institution has been around, but they hated it because they were challenged, they were held accountable, and the teachers made them work, they used to actually make kids learn things they didn't want to learn. We didn't like it as kids, but as adults of course we are thankful for it. In my daughter's case she hates it because she has teachers that are morons, when she has one that is, she hasn't had a teacher for half of the year now. Her teacher quit in the middle of the year, in the middle of the week, and has not been replaced. Nobody makes her work at school. I have never received a phone call because my daughter has not been working on her lessons.

No, I get phone calls because my daughter did not have the appropriate uniform of the day on. I get phone calls because my daughter was ornery and turned the light off in the bathroom on other girls. I get phone calls because my daughter is not wearing a belt, not because she doesn't know her times tables.

We did the public school thing. After multiple years of testing, special education, IEPs, with little result, we decided to try this charter school thing. People often ask me what a charter school is, I say, "well, we put her there because they have more individualized teaching available." That was my answer, and it was the truth. There were some things I didn't really like about the charter school, the uniform was sort of commie in my eyes, but I decided since she was so miserable in public school we could live with it.

I don't really know what the point of charter schools is, supposedly it has something to do with more parent involvement. I call this the PTA gone mad with power syndrome. If you think the PTA is bad at your public school, you should attend some meetings at a charter school. These people know they can pretty much make demands and that the school is going to go along with it. Problem is, some of these people are just downright freaky, some of them are aggressive, and most of them are stupid in my opinion.

They are the ruling class. They have nothing better to do than hang out in the office and make copies, phone calls, and plan ways to insert themselves into the daily running of the school every which way they can, and did I mention that some of them are idiots? These are the people who send out different packets every month of things they are selling to raise money. For what it never says, and frankly I don't care. I am not selling anything, and I always send the things back with my daughter. I will start selling crap for the school when they actually start doing their real jobs and what they are paid to do, which is teach children to read and multiply 6 times 9 with complete accuracy. Until then, I don't think they should be selling a darn thing.

Back in the old days the only time my parents ever even so much as set foot in our school building was to pick us up if we had thrown up in math class, or to go to a Christmas program. Other than that they knew by the fact that we came home every afternoon with homework that we sat down and did on our OWN with very little prompting that all was well. They knew their children could read a newspaper, and even add 161 plus 39. We had books to read, we read them. We had work to do, we did it, and we were lazy little shits too, but we knew if we did not do it, we might fail, and that was the worst nightmare we had.

Our teachers were nice, professional, and firm. There was never an army of parents hanging around the school doing whatever it is these people who are apparently unemployed do all day at the school. Sure there were a few of them who came and gave us cupcakes and treats on holidays, my mom did that many times, but when it came down to the nitty gritty our parents knew we were in good hands, and that our teachers had everything under control.

Everything has changed. School is nothing like I remember it being when I went through it. My daughter is not stupid, but I've been told by this test score and that test score and this teacher and that, that she has learning problems. Funny, she functions quite well at home, people are often shocked to hear what the schools have had to say about her abilities.

I think it is well past time that we brought her home. They are ruining her education. We will most likely homeschool next year. Enough is enough. They made her hate school for all the wrong reasons. We can't do worse. It is time for us to try and save what is left of her formative years.

Pre Post Post

Will Post Soon.

Between carpet vacuuming, shampooing and doing laundry I thought to myself, I really have been neglecting the old bloggy thing. I didn't beat myself up about it or anything, but I thought perhaps I should post about something even if it is my usual boring fare. Then it came to me, my life just isn't all that exciting right now even though I am pretty darn happy with it for the most part.

We are deep in the heart of spring cleaning. My gosh I don't know why I even bother to post. I am sure absolutely no one at all wants to hear about our spring cleaning even if I am contemplating changing the curtains in the living room.

On that note I will close here with a promise to post something boring again really soon.

Not As Fun As Naked Yoga

Yard Work.

All right, I haven't been blogging because I have been doing naked yoga. Oops, sorry, I meant yard work. I think this post just died, the sad thing is it just started. I don't think I can salvage it, but I will try.

Nope, I don't think I can. Not unless I actually blog about naked yoga. I've never tried it mind you, so I don't have much to offer there. I can imagine it, and truthfully the image is not all that pretty. Maybe I just don't have a good enough imagination because all I keep seeing in my mind is an extremely hairy over weight man holding some sort of leg lift position, I have no idea what cutesy tootsy name that pose gets in yoga, but it doesn't matter anyway because the minute it happened every one witnessing it would forget the name, and would begin clawing at their own eyes. Or maybe I'm just immature, and am uncomfortable with nudity due to my prudish Puritannical American upbringing.

I'm not actually uncomfortable with nudity, per se. I happen to be nude under my clothes and I am perfectly all right with that. I wouldn't necessarily mind some naked yoga I guess, although I would probably rather not for the most part, and the only reason is I'd just rather not do yoga at all. I'd much rather take a walk, although I realize that won't make my abs look like Madonna's.

What draws a Doctor to the field of proctology anyway? That's what I was wondering today. If I were to be a Doctor that would not be my first choice of study. Now in all fairness I do see the need for proctologists, even the exit end of our pie holes sometimes unfortunately need attention. I realize this, and it is probably a silly thing to think about.

Thistle. It is the most evil (ob)noxious weed known to man. I hate the stuff. It is so prickly, stubborn and nasty it is almost impossible to get rid of. I think if I were to burn my yard, which I would never do for goodness sakes calm down people, the only thing still standing would be the thistle.

Every week countless hours of my extremely precious time are spent battling the thistle, and that other thing that has roots as strong as steel ropes. It rains, the grass and weeds grow three inches. It doesn't rain, the grass and weeds grow three inches. Right now I really need to mow the lawn twice a week just to keep it under control.

My itty bitty baby grass is coming up. This brings me much joy. We planted three little baby Aspen trees, they will bring much needed shade and interest to our back yard. The yard is freshly mowed and poop scooped. It was all worth it. The pulled hamstrings, the weird shaky thing my arm is doing whenever I try to use it, the sore muscles all over my body all of it--worth it.

That's what I've been doing. It is not nearly as exciting as naked yoga I'm sure, but still it is nice to see the fruits of our labors, and have the prospect of a nice yard in the future. Plus, the physical experience of being outside in the sun is great therapy for the body and soul. I highly recommend it.

Hey, I Got Nominated For Something

And It Didn't Involve Me Having To Clean.

Pretty darn cool. One of my posts got nominated at a website called "Watcher of Weasels". I saw a bunch of referrals from that website on the ole site meter thingy, and at first I was a bit alarmed thinking that someone out there had declared me a weasel and that they were watching me, but that wasn't the case at all thank goodness. Well, actually it was the case, but in a good way.

I'm anti-weasel just as much as the next person. I'm especially watchful of commies who as my dear Uncle would say, "drink their grandmother's bath water." My dad thinks I am a bit over zealous about it, he once suggested that I should "not go around looking under rocks for them." Which seemed odd since that is exactly where they like to hide.

Well, I decided to check back on this later, and was pleased to find that I even got a vote or two, and I didn't even vote for myself, honest, I didn't. Anyway, its here if you want to see the post and all of the nominees.

Sweet Scents Of Summer*

Are Not That Far Away.

Tomorrow it is done. The semester. I know school posts are beyond boring, so that is all I am going to say. Otherwise, I am just looking forward to summer. With all of this springy weather we've had lately I just cannot get enough of being outside.

This is the year. We will get this yard in some sort of shape. Planted, all right, threw down some grass seed, fertilizer, and some little baby grass is finally starting to grow. It is exciting, to me at least, everyone else seems very unenthusiastic about the thing. Oh well, they'll see. I have a vision. I have a plan.

We have a new member in our rapidly growing animal family. Now, I say it all the time, "if I bring another pet home, I am absolutely positive my husband will divorce me." It is enough that the man tolerates the lazy dogs, and the overly affectionate cats, I know that he has a limit. Two dogs, and 3 cats, anything else is just asking too much. But this time, HE brought the animal home. It wasn't my fault.

It all started when the hamster fell victim to an unfortunate ball accident. No, the thing didn't fall down the stairs. Actually, it was in its ball, and my daughter and her friend were cleaning the cage, and decorating her room, they decided to put the little guy in the ball and let it run around the downstairs, I said, downstairs, not down the stairs. I see they were thinking of the hamster's safety by putting it downstairs so it could not fall down. They forgot just one little detail, the dogs.

This might be news to some people, but dogs like to chase balls, they especially find clear plastic balls with furry critters inside all the more exciting to go after. Well, somehow they got the poor thing out of the ball, which led to numerous phone calls from two twelve year old girls who were darn near tramatized by the resulting how can I say this, carnage. It was too much.

Of course I was at work, and being in a non-cubicle profession was unavailable by phone. My friend, the mother of one of the girls had to handle it all from her workplace. My sister had to pick up my daughter, and my friend's dad picked up her daughter, and each were then sufficiently comforted by loving grandparents.

When I went on my lunch break, I checked my cell phone to make sure everything was all right with the girls at home. I had 5 voicemails, and a frantic text message from my sister, saying I "need to call home NOW." That freaked me out really bad, then I started wondering what the voicemails were about, and was quite alarmed. I have terrible reception at work. Luckily, the next text I read was from my friend, "you daughter is extremely upset and crying, Hamster is dead." And that was it. I gathered from those two text messages what was going on.

I got outside and finally got a signal and started calling people and listening to the messages, and most of them were of my daughter hysterically recapping the whole entire thing. Well, in between leaving me 5 voicemails, she also managed to call her daddy's phone and leave him equally heart wrenching messages as well.

I got a hold of my sister who told me everything was fine, and basically that the dog thought he was taking a bite out of crime, and that the little furry friend did not survive. I met up with them at my parents house after work, and over dinner with my folks was given the whole story. I asked, "where is the body?" My sister declared, almost defensively, "well, I wasn't going to bury it, that's a parents job"

"That's fine, but where is it?" I asked. "It is at your house in the garage in a chicken mc nugget box." She informed me. "Great." I said, "Well, I don't know what to do with it, I guess I will flush it down the toilet." Which appalled my father and he said, "NO! Don't do that, it will clog up your plumbing, just throw it in the trash." Apparently he has not seen the movie Flushed Away, although I wanted to blurt out, "Oh come on dad, it is no bigger than your average turd." But I decided against that because it was dinner time after all, and that would have made my mom really annoyed.

Anyway, I wish I could say we disposed of it with dignity, but I figure if you can throw a chicken bone away, then it must be all right to send the hamster out that way. I really did feel bad for the poor little thing. But not as bad as my husband did from all those miles away. He was so upset about her little pet dying that he vowed to get her another pet. Which I secretly questioned the wisdom of, but he insisted if she wanted something he would get her something else.

And that is how we got the chinchilla. I guarantee nothing is going to happen to that guy. My daughter is a zealot about keeping her door closed and all animals out of her room. She even has a gate up in front of her closed door. That's just the way it is. It is a delightful little creature. We are enjoying it very much. Hubby spared no expense and instead of the condo set up, opted for the New York penthouse with a view. The critter is way more high maintenance than a hamster, but it is so much fun.

All right I am off to bed. Should have been a long time ago.

Wasting Time

It Is Too Precious.

I hate to say this but I hardly ever get to see my family anymore. That is a crying shame since they live only about a mile away from me. I think about them all the time, I can go by there any time and stop in, yet, I tell myself, "I'll do X thing first, then go over and just hang out with mom." Trouble is, it ends up being X, Y and Z things first and next thing you know the week is gone, and I never did get by there.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do I do it to mom? I know she wants to see me more often. I call her all the time, but I just never seem to make it down there, and that is just silly. For a fat woman I sure am spread thin these days. My family makes fun of me saying, "You always say you are so busy, but you never seem to get anything done." Of course I say, "that is not true at all, I am really busy, but I do get things done."

I didn't make it home early enough tonight and my poor dogs couldn't hold it long enough, and ended up going pooh in the house. They have never pooped in the house before. They have their own schedule, and I should have been home earlier, but I got off work late and there it goes.

At the start of every week, I tell myself, this week I am going to get everything done and under control. Why do the evenings go so fast? Why do the days go so fast? I look up and it is bed time, well, beyond bed time actually, and chores are left undone, put off for the next day, and the next.

But everyone likes to tell me how I have so much time on my hands because I work part-time. Really? Well, no one is going to do my job for me. Not my paying job mind you, I'm talking about my job of being a mother, of taking care of our house, running the household. No one else is going to do that for me. I don't have extra hundreds laying around where I could contract out some of the things that I do around here. Besides, I would spend 18 hours cleaning this house before letting someone come in to clean it lest they think we were dirty pigs living here.

Some women do great at this stuff. I'm not good at it. I'm not being negative or a downer here, I'm really just not that good at juggling so many things. I have a friend whose house looks perfect all the time, any time of day, any day of the week, nobody has ever stopped in unexpectedly and found so much as a dirty dish in the sink, or a shoe not put in its proper place. She works full-time and is a single mom. I don't know how she does it. I've watched her though, and she has a compulsive cleaning gene I think.

She walks by something out of place, she immediately puts it away. I walk by something out of place, I make a mental note to go back later and put it away. That's the heart of it, and that's why I am an underachieving housewife, even though I'm technically not a housewife, but I do have a house and I am a wife, so somewhere in there a lot of cleaning, cooking and shopping is involved.

Forget the house, the chores, the errands, I am going to spend at least one day this week with my momma, and I'm going to do her shopping for her, and clean up around her house for her. I owe it to her, she needs extra help these days.

Now I am off to bed. Have a good one.

Two Words

Why I Don't Want Government In Charge Of Healthcare.

Walter Reed. That's it. The two words that pretty much sums it up. My husband was in the military for 13 years. We experienced first hand government health care. It is a hit or miss experience, and from our position, it is mostly miss. From our own personal experience, we were glad to have some health coverage, however, how efficient, and how good it actually was is another question.

We know what it was like before tri-care, and what it was like after. Before tri-care waiting for a couple of hours on the phone to make an appointment was par for the course. After tri-care, it was much easier, and more streamlined, it improved in many ways as far as availability. It did become easier to make an appointment.

Although it became easier to actually see a health care provider, I can't say the quality of which improved all that much at all. In fact, I'm surprised my daughter and I survived the experience of her birth. All of those fancy things that people experience in regular hospitals when giving birth were non-existent in the military hospital I was in.

I ended up having a C-section. I was lucky in that, those of us who had c-sections only had one room mate, everyone else were housed in a room with multiple beds. The babies were to room in with the mothers, even if she had a C-section, unless there was something wrong with the kid. That sounds all fine and dandy except, the fathers had to leave by 8:00pm, that meant, after that you were on your own with the kid.

After my surgery I could barely move. I had her at 11:29pm at night. I woke up sometime in the middle in the night after all of the anesthesia had worn off, and felt like I had been ripped in half, I could not move one inch without horrible pain. I managed to get into one position and stay that way. My husband had already left, he could not stay for the night. I had not seen my baby yet, except for a brief instance where the nurse held her so I could see her right after she was born. I wasn't even sure where he or she was.

At some point someone came in and told me to massage my stomach, and to keep massaging it as much as possible. I still had my I.V. in, I assumed I was being given pain medication. The next day I talked with my roommate. I told her I was dying in pain, she asked if it was time for my pain medication? I said, "I don't know." She said, "You have to ask for it." I called the nurse and asked for it. Apparently, I was not given anything unless I asked for it. I assumed that after an abdominal surgery that would be given automatically, I was wrong.

It is the next day, I still have not seen my baby. I ask the nurse if I can see my baby. She says, "Pretty soon we will have you get up, and you can walk to the nursery and see her." Remember I said that babies were supposed to room in with the mother unless there was a problem? Apparently they were quite perplexed at our daughter's blood work. My husband came in. I don't remember him being there much at all. I don't remember what happened that day. I know that evening after he had left, a doctor came in and said, "We need to do a spinal tap on your baby to see if she has sepsis."

I was completely blown away. I said, "I don't know about that." He said, "We can't wait, if she has it, she could die within hours." He said, "I will bring you some paperwork to sign." Then he left the room. I didn't have a phone in my room to call my husband or anything. I was crying. I was very confused.

Later the nurse came in and said that I could get up and take a walk. I got up and slowly walked over to the nursery, there in the middle of the nursery was the doctor doing a spinal tap on my baby. I will never forget that image in my mind. I walked in the door of the nursery and made my presence known, the doctor came over and said, "You probably shouldn't be here for this" and shuffled me out into the hallway.

I found a pay phone in the hallway and called my mom in another state collect and told her what was going on. She told me to call my husband and get him down there that I was in no state to deal with this stuff. I was mentally out of it. He could not come down there, it was after visiting hours. The nurse told me to go back to bed.

Later the Doctor brought me the paperwork to sign. I asked if she was all right, He said, "We were unable to get any spinal fluid, we are going to start her on anti-biotics." That night they came and removed my i.v.

The next morning my husband came in with our baby. He brought her in the room and said she could stay in there with us. I told him what happened. He did not know what to do or think. Nobody told us anything. Nobody had any answers for us.

On the board in the nursery was our daughter's name, and several other babies, and next to all of them it said, "R/O Sepsis"-- rule out sepsis. I supposed that the other babies were given spinal taps as well. They eventually told me something was wrong with her blood, we learned years later that she had Spherocytosis. Everything they did was completely wrong, a good hematologist could have made that diagnosis without sticking a needle in our daughter's spine 13 times. Thirteen, that's how many poke marks were on our daughter's back.

I was in there for 5 days. I was not allowed to bath for 5 days. My daughter was there for a week and a half as she developed jaundice and they would not release her. The jaundice was most likely related to her spherocytosis. During the time we were in there, we were isolated from family, and they did pretty much whatever tests they wanted on our daughter. There is absolutely no reason that she needed that spinal tap, that Doctor was abusing his position and authority and practicing on innocent people. There was nothing we could do about it.

It was a horrible experience that we just wanted to put behind us. Towards the end of my stay, as my condition improved I began confronting the medical staff and demanding more answers. Basically I started throwing a major shit fit after I came to my senses and realized the number of ethics violations that were taking place. They started listening to me. I spoke with a patient representative, of course nothing was done about any of it, they are all on the same team you know. I left that hell hole hoping to never go back.

A few years later, at a different military hospital, they almost killed our daughter. She had been running a low-grade fever, and was listless I kept taking her to the military hospital, a different hospital, completely different state. There, foreigners made up a great number of the staff in the "clinics", they were not even doctors, I don't know what their qualifications were to be practicing medicine. I told them my daughter was extremely pale, was listless, running a low fever, was stumbling around when she walked, was incoherent, I was told to give her some tylenol. I was told this 3 times on 3 different occasions as I kept taking her back and saying, "Something is Wrong!"

Finally, after my daughter slept for almost 24 hours straight, we took her to a civilian hospital in town. There in the E.R. they drew her blood and found that she had a hemoglobin of 4. It is supposed to be 12-18. The doctor told me she had 1/3 of the blood in her body that she was supposed to have. That had this gone on much longer she would have most likely went into congestive heart failure and died.

She was admitted immediately and within a short period of time was diagnosed with spherocytosis, and started receiving a series of 4 blood transfusions. She was in the hospital for 3 days. She was attended to, she was treated with dignity. My husband I were allowed to stay with her continuously.

When it came time for tri-care to pony up and pay for this expedition, I received a phone call from a commander at the military hospital were she had previously been seen. In a very heated conversation he told me, "I am not going to sign off on this claim, you should have brought her here and not to the civilian hospital." I said, "Well, I did take her to your hospital, 3 times, I was told to give her tylenol and take her home, if you people had done a simple CBC I wouldn't have had to take her elsewhere, I took her to the nearest hospital when I was unable to wake her up and she was practically unconscious. You guys almost killed my daughter." He replied, "Well, I hope you have lots of money saved up because tri-care is not going to pay for her visit there, what was she in there for 3 days, hope you can afford that."

I hung up and called her hematologist and told him exactly what happened, and said, "I'm sorry, tri-care might not pay." He said, "they will pay, don't worry, let me handle it." After he got done with them, they were kissing my rear. She had a special doctor assigned to her in the pediatric unit who did absolutely nothing concerning her health without consulting the hematologist, and the hematologist even went down to the hospital to teach classes on these types of cases and how not to miss them. Oh, and tri-care paid for everything. Miracle of miracles.

I stand by my position, I never want the government in charge of my health care. The Walter Reed scandal was not shocking to me in the least. Most of the military hospitals I've been in were run down, and not much better. Staffed by inexperienced, or downright unqualified people who have no business "practicing" medicine on anyone. They practiced on my daughter all right. Practiced.

Being An Adult

Means Seeing Reality.

Our employment, jobs, careers, whatever you wish to call the source of your income, are an enormous part of our lives. The alternatives to working for a living a limited and unacceptable to most reasonable people. Sometimes things are great, sometimes they are terrible, there are often bumps in the road, and people get into slumps, get burned out, or sometimes just need a break from it all.

Most people will happily grind along if they feel adequately compensated, and sufficiently appreciated. Morale rides high, and turn over is slow. Which brings me to this, probably the most detrimental thing any manager can do to morale is let slip the notion that every single one of his employees is replaceable. Immediately replaceable, and that he would just as soon see you go than stay. If you treat people like machines, you get machines. Machines only give the required output, nothing more. Machines don't strive for more, or to be better. They are simply machines which care nothing for you, your mission, or the professional goals which you cannot truly reach without the people below you working for you.

Sure, people know there are others who would fill their spot were they to leave their post. That is not what I am referring to, I am speaking of an attitude which if allowed to prevail will bring the morale of the people working below to its knees. One might say, who cares about morale, people are paid to do a job, they can do it or move on. Sure, that is true, but low morale is a poison which festers and brings the whole group down. New people are immediately brought into the fold, and are exposed to the negativity right away. It leads to bickering at best, and back biting at worst. These are not good conditions, they do not promote productivity.

All of this does nothing to promote team work. Yes, I hate the team team team go TEAM cheerleading as much as the next person, but teamwork is necessary to any group working towards the same ultimate goals. Being an adult means, find another job, or suck it up and get through it hoping for better days. That is the reality of the thing. Do your best no matter how many roadblocks are hurled at you. And try to keep your mouth shut.

I Owe An Apology

For Boring.

I have written some really cruddy posts. I spent some time this morning reading through some old posts and I noticed that whenever I started a post talking about school I immediately felt an overwhelming urge to just pass it right over. The school posts are incredibly boring. I'm sorry. I am not going to write about that anymore. That's all.

Almost There

Where Ever That Is.

Next week this semester will be over. Yippee! I haven't been planning well what I will do after it is over, I know school will start again soon for the summer. I'm debating on whether I am going to take classes this summer, or just enjoy the time with kiddo. Right now I'm leaning towards hanging with the kid instead. That and, well I haven't the funds right now. I think I will take the summer off and save some money for the fall. I think I just need the time to get a grip and think about some things.

I really need to take a writing class because I am not confident about writing research papers, and lets face it, people have to do that in college. I used to be just fine with that sort of thing, but now things have changed and I feel intimidated. I would rather spend the money and get up to speed so I don't have to stress it so much and freak out all the time. Anyway, that's a thought. Maybe I could just take one English course over the summer. Nahhhh. I'm going to have fun with my kid instead.

That's probably what got me in this bind to begin with. Choosing fun over what I should do. Only in this case I'm choosing it because my daughter has been so great, and I have been stressed out and haven't done hardly anything other than ordinary with her for pretty much the whole school year. She deserves a break, and a nice summer. It is decided then.

And since this post is about as exciting as reading my grocery list, I am going to close here. More later. It is a beautiful day out there. Just lovely. Today I will mow the lawn and pull weeds. I can't wait. Really. I like doing it. It makes me feel good.

Ordinary People

See Past All The Hoopla.

When I was very young I heard people use racist language. I was even related to some of them. As I grew older and began the process of thinking for myself I learned this was wrong, and decided I did not want to be that kind of person. I decided at some point without even realizing it, to deal with people as individuals, and judge them based on their actions. That is who I am. I've always been this way.

With the nappy headed ho's scandal, my husband and I have talked a lot about the reactions that some people have had. We both seem to believe that people have generally over reacted to the thing, although we think it was a stupid thing for him to say. My dad always says, "these days everything is taken to the extreme position." I believe he is correct, there are countless examples of this every single day on the news.

When my husband and I decided to announce to the world that we were going to get married, his parents sat us down and said, "Do you really think you know what you are getting into as a mixed couple?" We assured them we did, and were ready to deal with whatever came our way. We were young, and believed that race relations would only get better over time. Plus we came from a community that was very well integrated racially, and neither of us had known much racism.

That was 13 years ago. We have only run into a small number of situations where anyone had the nerve to express disapproval of our bond. I used to believe that racism was practically non-existent. I really did. As I said, I saw people change their ways, and turn away from those ideas as a child, I assumed this was a widespread phenomena, and I think it was for the most part.

After the Imus thing, my husband told me that his boss expressed anger over the situation and the reactions to it. He said, black people say all sorts of racist things, but if a white person says anything they are attacked over and over. His boss even used the N-word. My husband was somewhat put off by that, which was a bit extreme of his boss. He said it to illustrate his point, but it was lost on my husband.

Look, it may be a double standard, but it generally alarms black people when whites say that word. I recommend not doing it, even if trying to illustrate a point. Early on in our marriage, my husband sometimes used the word when hanging out with his friends. I asked him not to. I told him it made me uncomfortable, and that I didn't want our child growing up talking that way. He agreed and doesn't use it.

I have watched my husband let racism roll off his back. I'm afraid to say that there have been occasions where he has been called that word by total strangers. I wish it weren't true, but it is. I also wish that there were not times where I was treated harshly because of my race, but I have. I actually had a woman tell me she hated me for being married to a black man, she was a black woman. She told me that once she got to know me, she decided that I was too sweet to hate.

I believe the vast majority of whites do not use that racist language. I also believe the majority of whites are not bigots who hate people based on their race. Unfortunately it is not these ordinary people who get the press. As a result of the press presenting everything that happens as white racism gone mad the resentments grow on all sides.

Sometimes I ponder what will happen if the extremists get a hold on the ordinary people. What if people start acting out on all of these resentments. We see cases of this now. What if things get worse instead of better? Where will that leave our little family in all of it? My husband and I have discussed this, we know how far we can be pushed. We won't let anyone tear us apart, we know where we stand.

Spring Changes

Time Rolls On.

I love spring. Yesterday we had a minor blip in our Spring weather, it was pretty major in some parts, but not where I live. I had to bring in my new pots of flowers, but they were fine in the garage. It was not super cold, but it was extremely windy, and I thought it might get too cold for the plants.

The kiddo is going through a growth spurt. She's been really tired, hungry, and suddenly very concerned about bathing and combing her hair. This is a new thing. My sister used to joke that my daughter only takes 52 baths a year, and we would laugh to ourselves. I hear from other parents that sometimes kids go through this phase. There comes a point in time where bathing is viewed as optional, a chore even. Everyone knows we have been going through this phase for a while.

It is not a particularly pleasant time for the parents of children with soap and water aversions, but if one is patient the phase ends (in best case scenarios of course, I have known of people who seem to enter adulthood stuck in this phase). In our case it went on for what seems like years, in fact, I think this has been something we have been dealing with for years now, but I think we are coming out of it and the future where I can proudly proclaim that my child takes 365 baths a year may be just around the corner. She has taken two baths today so we may be onto something yet.

Just last summer I remember arguing with her that just because she goes swimming everyday, it is not the same as bathing. My friend and I even contemplated throwing a bar of soap in the pool with her and encouraging her to use it, but thought that might offend the other swimmers. She seemed to think immersing herself in a swimming pool for hours would do just as well as a washcloth and a good old bar of soap, I had difficulty convincing her otherwise.

And so we've reached a new high, the point where the girl looks at me and says, "Mom, can I go take another bath?" Oh how long I have waited for this day.

The Cracken Has Released The Evil Rabbit

I Actually Said That To Someone.

My niece once had a dream that my mother stood up on the table and became an evil rabbit. She was a little kid, and it was a big deal to her at the time. We don't let her forget it either. I've been showing up at mom and dad's house regularly this week, which is something I haven't been able to do for the past several months. Their cat is sick, and my mom happened to ask me if I thought I could help my dad give the cat some medicine.

She said that they have been having a horrible time getting the cat to take the medicine. Which reminds me I need to find that email about how to give cats medicine, I think my dad in particular will get a kick out of it. Well, I don't know how to do a lot of things, but I DO know how to give a cat medicine, so I offered to help out with it. She needs two doses a day so I've been showing up here and there at medicine giving time.

The cat likes to hang out in their bedroom the majority of the time, so dad and I go in there, close the door, and then proceed to chase the cat back and forth between the Lucy and Ricky beds until she finally makes the mistake of coming out long enough for us to grab her. We try to use calming and soothing voices during this process to alleviate as much stress for her as possible, but even doing so she still scratched my dad's arm really bad yesterday. Catching her is the hard part, once we've got her dad holds her down while I give the medicine. There is a trick to it, a vet taught me a long time ago, but if done correctly it is pretty easy.

My dad works night shift, and has done so for as long as I can remember, so he usually takes an evening nap. I guess the cat was fussing tonight while he tried to catch his zzz's so he was grumpy as he was leaving for work he stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and told my mom, "Go ahead and sack up that stuff at the end of the hall and throw it away!" I asked, "What is it one of your useless dogs?" He laughed and went on out the door.

My mom got this look on her face, she was not happy. It seems there were some clothes hanging on this hook thing on the door, and like everything in my parents house has been there since the year I graduated high school, well dad apparently decided at that very moment he could not tolerate the things on the door any longer and took them off, leaving them in a pile at the end of the hallway. This combined with his command that it be sacked up was not acceptable to my mother who had a few choice words to say in his general direction.

My brother was there, and he and I were sort of amused by this whole scene, and were cracking jokes about how she should cut up the clothing and place them in a neat pile on the Ricky bed, but she was not laughing. She was stewing. And then I realized something, when my husband and I are 65 years old, we might still be fighting about stupid things. I thought we might outgrow our petty arguments, but I see now there is a possibility that we might not.

I said, "well mom, that's the difference between you and I, I would have told him to shove the pile of clothes where the sun doesn't shine, and he would have told me, 'if you keep talking to me like that, one day I will just leave'" Instead, she was just mad, but I knew she wouldn't say anything to him, she never does, and I guess it is a good thing they don't read my blog since now I've let the cat out of the bag.

My parents don't fight openly, or when they are alone even. I've never seen them fight. I know they take an opportunity here and there to poke a jab at each other, but it is never discussed. I tried to do things differently in my marriage. I told myself, I'm not going to just take things and say nothing, I am going to speak my mind, I am going to stand up for myself, and I do. Sometimes I don't do it right, and I say mean things like, "Go cram X item," when I feel angry or cornered. I am actually only speaking about one incident where I said that, it was a few weeks ago, and my husband has not forgotten it yet. In fact, he brought it up tonight when we spoke on the phone and were having a disagreement about something, he said, "I'm surprised you haven't told me to shove it yet." I felt bad, but I assured him I had no intention of saying it.

I know it was the wrong thing to say. I shouldn't have said it to him before, I guess he is still bothered by it. I shouldn't risk the love of the man by saying stupid things in anger. We will get over it. I just shouldn't make the mistake of assuming we will always get over it, I would hate to lose him over something like that.

Well, I'm off to bed. Have a good one.

Last Pair Of Underwear

Maybe Do Laundry?

I'm not really going to write about underwear, although it has been a great topic of interest to many people who find this site by doing searches on underwear. I do need to do laundry though, which is another topic I write about with too much frequency. What does that tell you about me? Does it suggest that I have no life? I don't know about that. Underwear and laundry are definitely a part of my life, which suggests that in some way I must have one no matter how boring it may be.

I love the rain we had last night. I went to sleep to the sound of it hitting the house. I even cracked my window so I could hear it better as I drifted off to sleep. It was quite a pleasant experience. Sometimes it is the little things in life.

I'm hanging in there at school. I think a lot about the decision to go back. I feel old in so many ways when I sit in a classroom full of kids. There are other adults there too. We all have reasons for being there. I suppose others feel the same way. I sometimes want to kick myself for not having done this earlier, but the choices I made led me to this point in my life. I sometimes think I should give up, that it is too late.

I can't stand the idea of doing what I do now for the rest of my life. That is why I am there. I must get over my pride, my shame, my own disappointment and continue. In a few years no one will care that I went to school in my 30's. At least that is what I am hoping. Sometimes I think maybe I should just go get a job at a bank or something, sure it would be a dramatic pay cut, but at least I wouldn't have to work every weekend and holiday for the rest of my life, all the while making my employer much richer, when in truth, my employer doesn't even know my name, except on paper in some HR file.

What to do? I guess I will keep going. I will swallow my pride, keep my mouth shut, and do it. I hope it is the right decision and that I am not just wasting time and money. The answers will come.

A Reminder

Sad Stuff.

As the Socialist Democrats have taken hold of the government for the next couple of years, at some point in the future the thought that we might have Hillary or Obama in the white house is a real threat Americans must accept. I remember the last time Hillary was in the white house, I was much younger then, but I distinctly remember that she wanted to socialize medicine in this country even back then. I can't imagine her passing up that opportunity again with a bunch of democrats in congress just waiting to give her everything she asks.

One of my biggest concerns since the last election is that we may very well end up with socialized medicine here in the U.S. It always chills me when I hear people spout off what they have heard about how Cuba has the greatest medical system in the world, blah, blah, etc. Really now? Who says so, well famous Hollywood socialist agitators and the left biased main stream media of course. And it's all "freeeeeeee" they cried. Well my mom told me a long time ago, nothing is free in this world, and judging from the photos I just looked at, I say she must be right.

Now, I want you people to go and look at these horrible, and gruesome photographs of the "best medical system in the world" and you tell me what you get for free. I mean it, go look. Notice the picture of Che looking down on the victims of his communism from the photo on the wall.

Democrats want this for us. Oh sure, they'll say it won't be like that here, or this is an isolated incident, but they would be lying. There are people in these photos, why would they go there if they didn't have any other choice? I'm sorry, but I don't trust our own government to treat us any better. Next time you are at the DMV ask yourself, would you want these people running your health care? ASK YOURSELF.

Link found at Fighting in the Shade
Read his post on the subject.

Busy Busy Busy

Have A Picture or Two.

Lazy Pigs

Sleeping All Day.

My dad would accuse me of thinking it was my birthday or something, and it isn't but I still slept the day away as if it was. I wasn't alone, my lazy dogs were right there with me zonked out and sleeping like the lazy pigs we are today.

It was nice though, and really I had some very entertaining dreams. Dreams that kept on coming as I hit the snooze button on my alarm every ten minutes for an hour. I thought I would only sleep 4o minutes, but I kept on sleeping until I finally realized I had better get up and get something productive done.

I guess I can't complain about all the things I didn't get done today, my day off, but I will spend the rest of the day trying to catch up. What's the difference? I am always trying to catch up. It takes hours and hours of reading and note taking to keep up with my one class and the tests are still next to impossible to pass.

This semester is almost over, and there is no one more thankful about that than me. I am just glad my math class is fairly easy, I have had to devote so much time to the other class, I barely have time to do my math homework. Which makes me incredibly thankful for the brilliant math teachers I had in high school, it is on that basis alone that I have achieved A's on all of my math tests. Actually, my current math teacher is wonderful, I enjoy her teaching so much. Every time I go to class it is the same thing, I look at the material, feel completely clueless about it, then she explains it, and a flood of memories returns to me, and I am able to do the math with little or no problem at all.

The teacher told me I was a good student. She asked about what math classes I had taken. I told her this was my first math class in way too many years to count, and that I can't remember how to do any math at all until she shows us on the board. She laughs and says you must have had good teachers in high school, I agree that yes indeed I did. Sadly, there are people in my math class who have trouble with basic multiplication facts, they never learned them. I recall very specifically that I was forced to learn them by rote memorization in third grade.

That's the problem with schools these days, they don't force kids to learn anything by rote. I believe that. My math instructor and I discussed how kids are given just a bit of everything now in schools, but they become masters of nothing. You can't learn math doing a few problems a day, you've got to do at least 30 to master the problem.

Anyway, I've been thinking about homeschooling a lot lately. I am really considering it for next year. My sister in law is homeschooling their daughter, and she's doing quite well. I think it is time to take a giant, although scary leap with out own daughter. I found the most wonderful homeschooling website, I can't remember where, but I intend to sit down and follow the many links this lady has on her site. That's just one of the things I want to do this week.

I've got to take off and get the kiddo. Back later. Maybe. I've got a lot of studying to catch up on.

As Good A Time As Any

I should say.

I've been pretty reserved about politics lately, mostly because the subject can be draining, and the quarrels never ending. But I just have to say this, it has been on my mind, practically every day I hear on the news about this candidate has raised XXmillion dollars for their bid. We are just a working middle class family and this boggles my mind. In fact, it the whole thing borders on ridiculous.

Pick yer millionaire folks. What? It's nothing against millionaires at all, I just think what are the people who lose going to feel like after having blown 25 million on a campaign? I can't imagine spending that kind of money on such a thing. I'm not here to tell people how to spend their money, but oh wait, these people are going to be deciding on how they spend my money, perhaps I shouldn't try to be so kind about it.

Oh sure, I guess the losers aren't really losing their own money either now are they? Apparently it is all donated to these people. The draw of power brings out all kinds. I say one thing, I'm not giving a dang dollar to any of them, besides my itty bitty dollar doesn't mean a dang thing anyway, except when they are taking it out of my paycheck of course. I don't care what their platform is, after all it all changes once they get in office anyway.

While visiting my mother the other day she said, "Dad thinks Obama is going to be our next President." It sort of made me chuckle because she pronounces his name, Oh Bam Ma, like Alabama. I said, "Nothing would surprise me mom." I hate to say this now, but I knew the Dems were going to take the last election. I will vote against the Dems in the next one, but I don't think it will matter I'm sorry to say, and I hope I am wrong.

Nancy Pelosi makes my skin crawl. I can say that here. I was very put off by her little comment to the President about how there is a new congress in town. It made my stomach lurch.

As far as the bunch of Republicans we've got, there is no way I will vote for McCain. That is out of the question. Right now I'm leaning towards Guilliani despite some of his more liberal positions, I think he could be quite popular, especially with the fence sitters. As long as he doesn't prove to be an outright socialist commie he seems the best bet, I could be disappointed with him yet. I don't know much about this Romney fellow, and I will give him more consideration in the future. Critics worry that Guilliani is pro-choice and gay marriage, but at this point those are not deal breakers for me personally. I am more worried about the war and stomping out Islamic terrorism.

My husband and I share disgust at the congress trying to pull the funding out from under the troops. That has been very disappointing, but neither of us expected anything else from the Dems.

All this politicking makes my stomach hurt. I'll leave this to the experts. There are people much better at it than I. We will just keep on working and producing so those millionaire candidates have some money left to spend when they get into office.

I love this kid

I have been going to blah blah blog everyday to look at this because it is so cute. I finally decided to hijack it, but of course I'll still go to blah blah blog everyday.

Back Seat Driver

Free Morning

Somewhat.

Got up. Yeah. That's a good way to start the day. I took the youngster to school, and had a fairly peaceful drive home unlike yesterday where every nut job in town with a license was taking a leisurely Sunday drive, never mind the fact that it was not Sunday at all.

I stopped at 7-11 to get a cup of coffee. A police officer was in there getting some too. He said, "I saw some snow flurries on my way here." I said, "Oh I did too, at first I thought it was pollen or something, but it was snow." He chuckled. Got my coffee and headed out.

I got in the car and "I love rock and roll" was playing on the radio, I looked at my dog and sang, "Put another dime in the juke-box baby!" Then I felt very stupid because the police officer was walking by and saw me singing to my dog in the car. By now I am wondering just exactly how long it will take him to pull me over and search my car for intoxicants, what with the, "the snow looked like pollen," and the singing to my dog, who likes my singing very much by the way.

I drive away. The cop must have decided that I was not drunk at 8:30am, and that my bedhead look was more of an indication that I was only half awake and therefore not necessarily breaking any laws, and so he left me alone.

I'm driving up the hill towards my street and see a car slowly backing out of its driveway. I stop for the car who apparently doesn't see me coming, or doesn't care that I'm coming. Whatever, I've got coffee. I notice the car is unmanned. It is rolling out of someone's driveway onto the street and heading for a very nice looking silver pick up. Before I can do anything it rolls up onto the curb and slows to a stop, missing nice truck by about 2 feet. Yikes. A man runs out of the house to get the car. He waves me past. I smile and move on.

I pull into the driveway at home, I get out my camera phone and take a picture of my boy dog sitting in the backseat. I send the picture to my co-worker. I hear a strange rat a tat tapping with rapidity noise. I get out of the car and immediately look for the noise. I suspect I know what the noise is, but I am unsure. It sounds like it is coming from two houses away. I tell myself it is the neighbor working with some sort of power tool from the privacy of their own home.

I get on the computer and start to read blogs and write this post. I hear the strange rapid tapping noise again, this time it is closer. It is coming from my house. I say, "Oh no," and run out the front door and look at the outside of the house. "The little son of a...is back." I look for the woodpecker, for the source of the noise, he flies by me and lands in the tree next door. I've been wondering when the birds were going to make their appearance this Spring.

The hole on the front of our house has long since been repaired. Father in law took care of that before he sold the house. He bought extra boards because he has fixed the hole several times, and he left them in the shed for us as he suspected we might need them. I've been hoping and praying that little turd burglar would not come back, but that tapping tells me he is here to make his home again.

After he is finished with the hole, other birds will move in. My cats will obsess about the noise of the little bird families living in the wall in our bedroom, and my husband will have to fix the board on the outside again. I found a picture of the suspect. My father in law said it was a woodpecker, I thought they were rare or endangered or something.

I found this about the woodpeckers. Doesn't seem like there is a whole lot we can do other than patch the holes. We'll see. Maybe they will decide not to like our house this year. It is a pretty bird though.

What I am up Against

A Mountain of Beanie Babies.

The Record

Set Straight.

I was thinking about my grandfather this morning when I was stuck in annoying traffic. He and I share the same birthday. He has long since passed, back in 1990, he was on his 9th decade. My mom's parents split when she was in nursing school back in the 60's. He remained in Oklahoma, grandma moved to California where she eventually died in 1978.

They adopted my mom when she was 9 years old. They were fairly well off and so offered my mother everything she could ever desire. She had been from an extremely poor background, and lived most of her life up to that point in an orphanage. They owned property in several different states, and had several businesses over the years. Grandpa was a builder, grandma helped him by cleaning the homes before they were to be sold. They owned many different homes.

Grandpa liked the women. Grandma was a good Christian. One particular woman was my grandmother's friend, she was married to an abusive drunk who did odd jobs for my grandpa. Grandma befriended the woman and being the Christian she was, she took her to church with them.

Grandma found out about gramps and this woman and their affair. I believe that was the final straw. After all the years of cheating, she decided she could no longer tolerate it. She divorced grandpa. He married the woman, and at the ripe age of 65 fathered a child with her. She was much younger than him, he was older than her mother even.

So, he had his first biological child. My mother had my older sister only a year later than his. His daughter was a fiery redhead, and spoiled rotten. He retained most of the wealth from the years of marriage with my grandmother, and so was pretty much a rich old man with a younger wife.

Mom tried to put the past aside. She loved both of her parents, and so she kept contact with him and his new family despite her own feelings about the whole thing. We would go and visit. My sister and I spent most of our time playing with his daughter who was practically the same age.

Gramps and his wife pretty much kept the kid in the dark about their past, but they lived in a small town, and every one knew the story. Everyone except the kid. She began to get a clue as she got older, and whenever we would visit she would ask us, particularly me, questions about our grandmother, and the past.

As a child I had a sort of untempered honesty about me. I pretty much told the truth no matter what it was. I knew the story, and so I told her. I don't think she believed me, but she kept asking me every time we went to visit she would corner me and ask me questions about it all. Every time I told her what I knew. Her parents tried to keep her completely in the dark.

After grandpa died, she stopped talking to us. We visited a few times, but it was never the same. She got really snotty with my sister, and said a bunch of bad things about my grandmother, and my mother. Her mother on the other hand, for some reason adored me. I could never figure this one out, I was the big blabber mouth who kept telling all of the family secrets, but she did. And for years we kept contact, but as I got older, I decided I didn't want that relationship with her.

It was a combination of things, but mostly because she seemed to pretend like my daughter did not exist because she did not agree with the fact that my husband and I are a mixed couple. It was bizarre, but I knew when I made the choice to marry the man I loved some people would not agree with it.

She called me last year on my birthday, on his birthday. I did not take the call. I just don't want to go there. I think after my grandfather died and I saw the way that they treated my mother, I just couldn't. They wouldn't allow my mother to see him before he died. It was extremely cruel. Of course, all of the wealth he had is theirs now, so my mother will have no inheritance. She has accepted that.

It may seem tacky to speak of inheritance, but it is a part of life. I have actually thought a lot about this as a parent myself. My husband and I have agreed that we have some responsibility to see to our daughter's future. We fully intend to see to that. That doesn't mean we will hand her our livelihood on a silver platter, but that we will try to put something away for her if we can. That is our duty.

Anyway, I was just thinking about them.

Home

Thank Goodness.

Have you ever noticed that sometimes changing the time you leave the house by just minutes can completely upset your entire commute? Traffic seems to go in flows, some are good, some are teeth gritting, wheel gripping, brake hitting bad, today was bad. It seems we hit every single light, every single 4 cylinder beater in town seemed to be on the same course, and taking their sweet precious time smelling the Spring flowers along the way, or something.

Of course the motorcycle cops did nothing to help the flow of traffic. What kind of sadistic mother sets up speed traps during rush hour? It is brake light central when people see those cops sitting on the side of the road, their mustaches and mirrored sunglasses reflecting the sunlight which is already unbearable and blinding.

Add to that the fact that our roads are in horrible condition due to all of the ice and snow we had this winter. Cracks, potholes, uneven surfaces, and patched spots really make a bumpy stop and go drive just that much more frustrating. That our population has practically doubled in the last 10 years, and our roads were never made for this amount of traffic certainly does not help matters. Pretty much every road in this town needs resurfaced and widening.

Argh. I'm just glad I'm home. I'm not really ready for today. It is back to school, and I spent the last 2 days trying to get all my studying done so I would not start the week off behind in class. I almost made it, but this one class is taking up all of my study time, so I didn't get my math done. Tomorrow I will have to work on it some more.

I go back to work on Friday. I never have much time to study on the weekends. Besides I am not looking forward to heading back to the grind at all. We are heading into our busy time of year which means getting our butts kicked every day at work. I hate to say I don't look forward to going back, but there are a lot of changes going on around there, which mostly means, we work harder, but they don't pay us any more for our efforts.

I am not going to increase my work hours this summer as I usually do. Nope. I am going to take classes this summer. I always liked summer classes, they are shorter, and move along faster. I'm downright tired of this long drawn out semester, it seems the one teacher of mine is using the long semester as an excuse to screw with our heads as much as possible. I have never wanted a class to get over more than this one.

Ahh thank God for coffee. I love the stuff. My day does not go right if I don't start with a nice delicious cup of the good stuff.

I've just got to get through school. I am so thankful I can go now, I can't forget that. It is a blessing to be able to do this. I'm so lucky my husband is supportive of me going to school.