it's so white out there

It's been snowing a lot on the east coast. Being an ardent lover of the changing seasons and weather extremes, I'm usually as thrilled as the kids when the white flakes start to fall, but the constant storms have even shoved me toward the "it's getting a little ridiculous" camp. As I type this, it's raining ice chips. Driving to work tomorrow is going to be exhilirating! Like a winter slip and slide!

If this keeps up through February, the kid's won't finish with school until July. I'm in favor of a longer school year but can we plan it please?

The dog likes the snow. Because where this is snow, there are, inevitably, snowballs. She thinks that if she barks long enough and loud enough, someone will give in and throw her snowballs until their arms fall off. She's usually right.

Play? Play? Please? Play?

Thunder will also shove her face up to her ears into random piles to chomp on mouthful after mouthful of nature's snowcone. I figure she has permanent brain freeze at this point and doesn't even feel it anymore. Later in the evening she will whimper and whine to be let out several dozen times to pee because all that snow has to go somewhere, now doesn't it?  

Giggles likes the snow more than the dog and will willingly bundle up to spend hours outside playing in the cold and wet, so much so that I get concerned she's been outside long engough for hypothermia to set in.

I figure the dog will let me know if I need to worry.

 

These days, I prefer to watch the snow from the inside, with a hot drink and only venture outside for the occassional picture. Or to shovel out the driveway so I can get to work. My husband has taken this winter's snow dump as a good reason to go skiing and introducing Ace to the art of sliding down a mountain on sticks. I waved goodbye as they headed out of the house. They came home hours and hours later completely exhausted, cold, achy and absolutely thrilled with themselves.

The way the weather has been I imagine it will be mid-summer before we find the outside Christmas lights we put up this year. By then it will really almost be Christmas again and honestly? Why bother taking them down when we're just going to have to turn around and put them right back up again. Besides, who says you can't enjoy pretty sparkly lights in August? You know, when the temp is 95 degrees with 210% humidity and the very act of thinking causes one to break out in a sweat. Everywhere. We'll all be wishing for winter's pleasure right about then, won't we?

Maybe I'll freeze a few icicles for those hot summer days.



the bruises from casual cruelty

I don’t even know that I want to write about this, not really. I don’t want to give it more weight than it deserves but it keeps cropping up in little ways, in little conversations, in little actions and in big thoughts apparently.

One evening about two weeks ago Giggles was not her usual exuberant self and was a little more in need of reassurance in that every where I turned in the evening, there she was. When I sat down she was almost burrowing in to my side. When we ate dinner, she pulled up close and was subdued. When we sat down for some TV time, she draped herself over me and snuggled in. None of these actions are so out of the ordinary, but there was intensity to it that gave me pause. I asked her if she was okay and she said fine. Giggles has her own time table on when she wants to talk about what. I’ve found the best approach is to ask the question once, let her know the door is open and wait for her to stroll through it. As usual, it didn’t take that long because my girl typically wants to talk about the mind stew she has simmering.

She had retreated to her room for a time but soon came to whisper in my ear that she wanted to talk with me. She led the way to my bedroom because it’s either her bed or mine that we lounge on to discuss what she’s been mulling throughout the day. The comfort of the bed seems to help ease the conversation and if she’s in need of a little physical comfort while chatting, she just cuddles in close. We’ve had some great conversations this way.

It seems there was an incident in one of her classes, as she walked by a small group of boys, one of them turned to her and told her to go away and that no one liked her, while they all laughed together at her expense. This pronouncement, and exhibit of boy rottenness, bothered her. Can’t say I blame her, the little cretins. Typical middle school boy nonsense I thought once the automatic Mom reaction of Who Dares Hurt Mah Babeh! had settled down. My girl, she’s also a bit of the Drama Queen, so after filtering through the indignation explanation, the real core issues surfaced - she was hurt and mad and confused. She was also having difficulty putting it all into perspective. She doesn't really interact with these boys and doesn't know why they said what they did. She's 12 1/2. Is there any perspective to have at that age? It's been so long I forget.

I asked her if she liked any of the boys and she made that eewww-Cooties! face that girls are so good at and emphatically said no. I asked her if she was friends with any of the boys and she said no. I asked her if she cared about the opinions these boys had on other things and she said no. And then I asked her if her answer to all of those questions was no, than it shouldn’t matter what they thought because those boys held no importance in her life.

She told me that she didn’t care what they said; she just didn’t understand why they had to be so mean.

Somehow I doubt the full truth of first part but I could swallow the consternation over casual cruelty. This isn’t bullying at its extreme, which is a big topic in schools right now, but it definitely falls into a category of meanness that casually plays out within the hallways of every school, every day, under all radar, despite the constant attempts to remind kids to treat others they way they wish to be treated. It’s a reminder that doesn’t seem to make a dent in the way kids act toward one another.

At an age when kids are trying to define themselves, this casual cruelty is rampant and often escalates to full scale bullying depending on the kids involved and the particular elements that set them apart. Differences, those that are cultural, religious, sexual and/or as simplistic as what part of town one resides, can be a catalyst that spurs meanness and bullying. None of these differences should give kids, let alone adults, the right to abuse another, especially given our wide open global awareness. It seems the larger the window on the world, the smaller the tolerance for difference and that just makes my heart hurt.

An independent spirit. That’s my daughter and that’s her difference. Her social milieu is outside the “popular” groups. She chooses her own dress style, she speaks her mind and doesn’t shy away from letting loose a ferocious belch when so inclined and has a general disdain for the herd-like mentality displayed by a majority of her classmates. These tendencies mark her as “different” in the eyes of the tweenage middle schoolers who are all about the comfort of conformity. And the reality is that those that walk along the fringes of different require a thicker skin as they navigate the school hallways. Because when a kid chooses not to conform, the difference takes others out of their comfort zone and they don’t know what to do with it, so they attack it.

We spoke about confidently handling this type of encounter. For me, confronting the boys, right then and there, if it happened again, would be the best way to handle it. By doing so, other kids would realize that she won’t stand back and let anyone push at her. I suggested that if they said it again, calmly looking back at them and retorting along the lines of, “that’s okay, I don’t like you either” would show they couldn’t intimidate her and maybe embarrass the boys a little, getting back some of what they gave. Also suggested was telling them that their pitiful attempt at getting her attention was a waste of time, but she didn’t seem to keen on that idea. We debated the merits of using “Really? That’s the best you can come up with? Try a little harder next time” as a response if the boys decided to be jerks again. She seemed to like that one. She was not as enthused as I was to the idea of asking, loudly, in front of the rest of the class, so everyone would hear her dis the pimply little morons, “if they really thought their opinion meant anything to her?” She was concerned the teacher would overhear and then she’d get in trouble. She hates getting in trouble with the teachers. Depends on the kind of trouble, I say.

By trying to minimize the import of the words spoken, I was trying to show her that by dismissing them she would not give these boys and their hurtful words power over her. I want her to look them in the eye and let them know that no matter what they say, their words are meaningless. But we all know better. Words hurt. No matter how self-confident kids want to feel at this age, they are really only learning who they are and being told you are not liked cuts little wounds in the heart and undermines that growing self-confidence in a thousand different ways. Will Giggles be scarred by this forever? No. Doesn't mean it won't leave some bruises on her psyche for a short time though.

Once she had spilled it all out and talked around all sides of it, she seemed settled and resigned to the fact that there will be instances like this again. She mentioned it again last night, told me she had relayed the story to a friend who casually shrugged it off with a “So?” and that boggled her mind. Why I’m not sure, but she was affronted that her friend wasn’t as outraged at their behavior as she had been, or maybe that her friend didn't show the level of solidarity that she was expecting. Drama Queen, my girl. The fact that she brought it up to her friend days later, and then again to me, made me realize that it still bugs her, that casual cruelty from others.

How to explain to a 12 year old the all too regular penchant to deliberately hurt another exhibited by people every day? I can’t because I really don’t get it myself. I try using the usual explanations– people are mean to others because they have low self-esteem, kids are often cruel because it makes them look tougher to their friends and they need that acceptance even if it means being a rotten shit, kids who are often uncertain of who they are choose to belittle those that are more self-aware as a defense. But who really knows? These kids could be subjected to that casual cruelty from their parents and accept as the norm and dish it out. Will we ever really know? We discussed each of these and she gets it, she really does because she is smart, and self-confident and unique.

But that uniqueness also leaves her vulnerable in the heart and head. All I can do is remind her of the beauty of who she is, inside and out, and that the unimportant words of a rotten 7th grader cannot diminish the power of who she is at the core. And that unique spirit will triumph in the end.

wednesday wandering

Do you suppose people realize that when I suddenly stop walking to have my coughing fit, it's because I need to cross my legs so I don't pee myself?

Four weeks seems a little long to wait for the report of Ace's dyslexia evaluation. Are they having it scripted by monks and illustrated?

I feel like I have Niagara Falls pouring down the back of my throat all day long. It's been over a week already, please congestion, just go away now.

Last week I noticed that only one of my car tires is showing wear along the edges. How does that happen exactly?

Is it wrong to feed my kids the same thing for dinner four nights in a row if it's home made chicken rice soup? We're all fighting colds here, soup is good for that right?

When I cough, my chest emits this this wheeze that sounds like Muttley from the Penelope Pitstop cartoons.

Why can't the people I work with read my mind? There would be no misunderstandings then and all would be done the way I want it.

I got up the other morning to find that the dog had raided the tissue filled garbage can, leaving nibbled and shredded snot rags all over the floor. Can dogs catch human colds? It would be deserved since I had to clean that mess up.

I really wanted to write something with more depth but my head is still full of snot and meaningful thoughts are getting buried under the weight of it.

The squirrels ate a hole right through my Rubbermaid Deck Bench to reach the bird seed they have been coveting. It's time to break out the airsoft guns and dispatch a little trespassing justice. I scored that damn bench at a yard sale for 25 bucks. Damn squirrels.

An article I read yesterday mentioned there were only 82 days until Christmas. Shopping for cough drops I noticed the store had Christmas supplies out and they were putting up decorations. I know retail is desperate but there should be a law preventing Christmas decorations before Halloween. It's wrong.

Ace has to wear that protective shoe on his foot another two weeks. I'm not sure who is more frustrated with his inactivity, him or me. Fifteen year old boys need to be outside doing things lest they drive their mother crazy.

Giggles came home the other day announcing that she had gone to her guidance counselor because she wanted to change her math class. She was having issues in that particular class. I'm glad she felt empowered enough to take that step even though I told her there would always be classes that annoyed the hell out of her. It's school. Now she's happier, clearly showing that her mother is completely ineffective helping with all things math related.

We watched the movie Taking Woodstock the other night and suddenly I was melancholy for the days of Grateful Dead concerts, moccasins and incense. When I said as much out loud my kids looked at me like I had lost my mind. Sigh.

I finally caved in to the fact that I needed bew bra's and dragged my husband shopping with me recently. After walking into the store I realized one of the women working there was a casual acquaintance. I accepted the fact that I was about to have my boobs measured by someone I see fairly frequently. I suppose if one has to be felt up, it might as well be by someone familiar.

Not only have I gone through what must be five pounds of Ricola throat drops in the past ten days, my use of panty liners has hit a new high since menopause. Damn menopausal bladder and my lack of Kegel strength.

let's have some proactive legislation, if you please

The post I wrote after first reading this article was a full on obscenity laden rant about the lack of responsibility in our culture overall these days that such a device to REMIND PARENTS that they have kids buckled in the backseat of a car is even a topic under discussion. I mean, really, people need to be reminded they HAVE CHILDREN WITH THEM? But I deleted that rant after I thought some more on the topic and came to the conclusion that maybe this is the right idea. Intervention for the masses that can't be trusted to make the right decision, or see where they have strayed from the path of clear thinking.

Look, we’ve all benefited from the alarm that dings incessantly to remind us that our keys are still in the ignition or our lights are on. Okay, nice convenience, but if I leave my keys in the car it’s my own damn fault and I deserve the inconvenience of finding a way to get them out. My kids are just a bit more important than my keys or leaving the lights on and the car battery wears down. Trust me, I am not so distracted by my own navel gazing that I would forget my kid is in the car in the first place and if by some weird twisting of the time-space continuum that happened, then I damn well deserve for the CPS to come and haul them from my care for being a stupid shit. We all have plenty of things to juggle in today’s insane pace of life, but making sure my kid doesn’t boil to death in a locked car is pretty high on my list of things to do before I walk away from a damn car. As a matter of fact, the safety of my kids is pretty much my top priority and if it’s not that high on every parents list of priorities, I declare that person a suck-ass parent and would welcome the opportunity to smack some sense into them.

While I still hold that such morons should to be bitch slapped, with lethal force, and forbidden to ever have contact with a child again, ever, I thought, since the desire to introducing legislation that reminds people of such a simple thing as TAKE CARE OF YOUR CHILD YOU FUCKWIT PUTZ, there should be a few other items introduced as law that take a more proactive approach to protect people.

You see, much legislation is reactive, as in, hey stupid, if you drink and drive and get caught, then you will be fined and possibly go to jail, depending on the number of times you get caught being a douche. But you see, this is an after the fact reaction. Let’s say we legislate that cars must have a device that measures the blood alcohol level of the person sitting in the driver’s seat and if it is deemed to be above the limit then the car will not start until the drunk shit gets out of the driver seat and someone else, whose blood alcohol level is below the limit, is sitting behind the wheel. Wouldn’t such a device prevent more drunk drivers than just the current standard of “Don’t Drink & Drive” because IF you get caught, the penalties will be steep. Because, let’s face it, this campaign is not exactly effective as there are still too many morons who think nothing of tanking back more than a few and weaving their way home from the bar, putting everyone they drive past in harm's way. By preventing the action in the first place we avoid the entire danger potential. Let’s stop them before they can start the car. I bet more people will stay home to consume their booze.

Based on the success of that system, ratchet that doohickey up a few amps and have the dashboard equipped with a mandatory finger prick, or hair analyzer, that identifies whether the person sitting behind the wheel is thinking about driving under the influence of a few jolts of cocaine, or heroine, or even the dreaded marijuana. Hell, make that in-dash analyzer a full toxicology screening that not only prevents the driver from being able to start the vehicle if found to be so chemically fueled but also lets the seat belt act as a restraint & puts in a silent call to the police and sends a GPS location signal so the police can come and arrest the bozo. Talk about a war on drugs!

If we take this one step further, there should be some sort of monitor, say an anal probe, that would take the inner measure of a person, so to speak, and with a DNA reading, maybe determine if a person has an inclination toward white collar crime, ala Bernie Madoff, that Stanford guy, or that Goldman Sachs exec that is such a greedy slug. If the anal probe identifies that possibility, it shoots a jolt of electricity that rewires the person’s brain so they only want to do charity work for the rest of their lives. Now THAT would be a good a monitoring service and prevent such assholes (heh, get it – assholes?) from living the high life by ripping off the rest of us.

There are really two other monitoring processes that I think would do the world a whole load of good if we could only find a way to develop and utilize. Truly, the benefits here so outstrip the drawbacks, like civil liberties and constitutional freedoms. This would really save the larger populace as a whole from danger and global suffering.

The first time someone decides to dip a toe into the political pool, they should be required to undergo a full body scan and DNA mapping that would identify the mental and emotional frailties that certain politicians have that turn them into self centered sycophants only interested in personal gain, allowing themselves to be manipulated into ruining the economics of a country or becoming fear mongers like Glenn Beck and Dick Cheney. If such traits are identified early one, their eye balls are seared and an electrical impulse is shot through their brain with such a hot intensity that the interest in politics is forever removed from them and they spend their life as far away from any political influence as possible. World Peace, Here we come.

The last and most important one, in my mind, would be the parental test. Somewhere about the time hormones start to surge, the populace should undergo a responsible reproducer analysis. For those that pass, go forth and reproduce! For those that fail, well, see that’s the type of moron that would forget they have a kid in the car, leaving said child to boil in the heat or abuse their children in a variety of ways. Really, this type of scum sucker shouldn’t be given the privilege to create life. In fact, by weeding such fuck heads out of the reproducing gene pool, there will be less need for child protection services, we’d have fewer instances of children left in the hands of irresponsible abusive adults that are supposed to cherish the very children they bring into the world.

I really think some proactive monitoring would clear up a lot of our societal ills. In the interest of fairness all around I say.

They say you can't fix stupid, but I think we can legislate the hell out of it and remove the need for anyone to take responsibility for their actions. What say you?

self-indulgent wallowing

You know those days where you feel off, not quite yourself and you just want a little space to be left alone to get it all back together again? The type of day where the thought of being cooped up in some remote hole, thousands of miles from just about anything, would be a blessing?

Those are the days my parenting & interpersonal skills go swirling down the toilet.

It was one of those days yesterday, where all day long I was draggy and hovered on the edges of being just a little cranky and a total raving bitch. It’s a fine line, those days. The slightest little thing can ratchet up the irritability and shove a woman to the extreme side of that line, something as simple as the phone ringing. The kind of day where roiling dark clouds gathered in my psyche, making their presence known by the tension in my neck & shoulders, the pressure building in my skull until I was sure it was going to pop as the surging tide bitchy swelled in my chest.

I made it through the workday without calling anyone incompetent, firing anyone or getting fired, but did manage to infer that certain departments should take classes on efficiency, just so they understood what the term really meant.

The ride home was an obstacle course of frustrating people in cars that didn’t know what a speed limit was, how to apply their brakes or their directional signals. Envisioning an opportunity to pull up next to the moron who’d just cut me off so I could tell him just what a moron he was gave me an odd sense of malicious satisfaction.

Going home, where it’s supposed to be all welcome and comfort, was all about Mom do this, Mom get this and Mom, Mom, MOOOOMMMM!!! I love my family, but every time one of them opened their mouth to talk to me, I just wanted to staple their lips shut.

My daughter was all about making plans with her friends for the next day and asking me a bazillion questions, the dog was whining and scratching at me for attention, my son was trying to finagle more XBOX playing time without finishing his chores and my husband wanted his own brand of TLC and attention. And everyone wanted my attention and responses at the same damn time.

As my kids began sniping away, trying to outdo each other in the insult department, the tone of their voices was akin to fingernails on a chalkboard and I growled, literally growled at them, to shut the hell up. When my son tried to wheedle my agreement for a later bedtime by sucking up with hugs and that slick charm he tries to sucker me with – I’m on to you, you know. I watched you develop that skill and know when you’re trying to hose me – I snarled and told him to go away. He called me grumpy and asked what crawled up my butt and went to mow the lawn. At least he was doing his chores, I thought.

When my daughter came over to ask me – again – what time I would drop her off at her friend’s house in the morning, I snapped at her about how the answer wasn’t any different this time than it had been five, no, even ten minutes ago. She huffed at me, grumbled something back about just wanting to be sure and that I didn’t have to be so mean about it.

My husband questioned my bitchy mood when I turned my surliness his way for something a simple as asking me a question. NO MORE QUESTIONS, was all I could think, and was relieved when he went to bed.

Even the dog finally stopped trying to get attention from the rabid human, choosing to curl up in a corner, shooting me cautious glances from sorrowful brown eyes.

They were all right. Even the dog.

I was bitchy, mean and cantankerous. Instead of being soothed by the offering of welcome home hugs and queries about my day, I turned away from it. Instead of taking shelter in the warmth and comfort of people who love me, I tried to push them to the fringes so I could wallow in self-indulgent moroseness.

How dumb can a woman be?

I’m going to blame it on menopausal moodiness and take extra care with the people who love me when I go home tonight. Hopefully they’ll still welcome me home with those hugs and loving smiles and not slam the door in my face. I don't think I'd blame them for a minute if they did.

malignancy of character

I don’t think I will ever understand people and that may be a good thing, overall.

It’s very difficult to grasp the mentality of individuals that trash others via an online space and do not have the balls to stand up in the public space and say the things they do, hiding behind the protection of a computer monitor and keyboard. The desire, capacity and effort it takes to sit and write mean, spiteful, and misinformed bullshit, takes a whole new level of douchebaggery than your average cowardly asshole. I guess that’s a skill all its own as well.

It’s one thing to disagree with someone, their politics, their opinions, to engage in that discussion, face to face, in a respectful and rational matter that accepts differences of opinions and philosophies but it is a completely different situation when those opinions, philosophies and reasoning are vilified as corrupt, suspicious and immoral from behind an online diatribe that leaves little to no room for dialogue, just because they are not shared by the small minded that cannot man-up and have that face to face discussion. That is immature, mean and COWARDLY.

And that is my opinion, in my space. Take it or leave it.

The only reasoning I can come to grips with, in my head, is that some people are bitter and resentful deep inside themselves, for real, or imagined, past transgressions against them, or maybe because they recognize an inner core of themselves that is less than true, less than brave and solid, that they can't bear to gaze upon that inner core and know that it lives inside them, so they turn that rancid awareness back on others, in attacks that are grounded in a twisted reality concocted by anger and hate, fueled by a lack of self-worth that must be fed with the hollow satisfaction of denigrating others.

These people, these trolls, that cannot stand a word against them, or present themselves without the safety barrier of an internet connection, these are sad, pitiable people. They end up being tools of others, because such malignancy of character, as exposed by this behavior, is a blighted siren beacon to those that would use it for its own benefit. Being a tool of other manipulative machines is then, one could rationalize, a just reward, no?

One could postulate however, that given the malignancy of character I refer to, one such as this would not recognize the reality of being used as a utter tool, blinded by complete ignorance and an unfounded arrogance. That being courted and stroked would be seen as a reward, for being accepted, and appreciated, never to understand that the praise is really just table scraps being tossed to an obedient dog for doing a master’s bidding.

the corruption i sow with scandal & intrigue

Someone told me recently that I should be careful what I plaster all over the pages of Catootes, as there are local individuals that keep tabs on my blog and might be eagerly awaiting an opportunity to use my words against me.

Really? That thought boggles my mind.

Some people need to get a life.

Really. If any of those people are checking on me today, I got some advice for ya.

Get. A. Life.

Or better yet, a therapist. Because you obviously have deeper issues than I can help with here.

In a world where poverty abounds, where cures for horrible ailments still elude us, where children are abused and any number of sickening social injustices occur every day, the possibility that someone is wasting valuable time tracking the noise from my head, seeking scandal and intrigue, well, I find this a sad and tragic picture. Not to mention small minded.

So, In an effort to make gathering that fodder as easy as possible, as I like nothing more than accommodating my readers, here are some juicy tidbits from the sordid life I lead, in no particular order:

I didn’t go to college.

I like Styx, David Bowie, Linkin Park and Reba McIntyre. I am a dichotomy.

Sometimes I sit in my living room wearing a t-shirt and my underwear. It is, after all, my house. I have also been known to walk around my backyard similarly attired.

My favorite alcoholic beverage is Bourbon. Quality bourbon, none of that cheap shit, thank you very much.

I must have a creative outlet. Right now it’s my blog and making jewelry. That might change if I get bored.

I will always take pictures.

I tell my husband and kids that I love them many times a day. Because it is important that they know this.

I do, in fact, laugh at myself. Sometimes more than I laugh at others.

I have potty mouth; one of my favorite words is FUCK. It is truly a versatile word.

I had premarital sex. More than once. And I liked it.

I don’t believe in God, nor attend church. See my point above about poverty, illness and abuse. I don’t care what anyone’s opinion is on that fact.

Yes, I did inhale.

I would pack up and move to the Salem/Ipswich area of Massachusetts in an instant. Or Eastern Tennessee. I try to be a little flexible.

I curse in front of my children. My daughter charges me a quarter for every bad word. This fund will probably pay her tuition to Princeton.

I believe political parties should go the way of the dodo bird. I also believe most politicians are dodo birds.

I hate housekeeping and would hire a housecleaner if my budget allowed me to. I do, however, get anal about having the sink empty every night.

I enjoy reading well written erotic romances. ‘Cause hey! Hawt Steamy Sex scenes!

I also read history, biography, fantasy, and countless online newspapers.

I like to sleep naked.

I am impatient when people do not get to the point. If you have something to say, SAY IT! Do not dance around it. I am not a mind reader.

Once upon a time, I thought I wanted to be an anthropologist. And then I realized how many student loans it would take to get there.

Ironing is a waste of time.

If I don’t like you, chances are I will not bother with you. Life is too short for false friendships. If I do like you, I want to keep you forever.

I am unflinchingly loyal.

I really want a tattoo, but am a first class coward. Needles, people, NEEDLES!

My family is the most important part of my life. If you fuck with them, I will hurt you.

For years I enjoyed playing Dungeons & Dragons, because I am a geek and love fantasy. Maybe in my next life I’ll be an Elf. Those ears, you know?

I have had two careers since I started working, Medical field and Books.

I have lost a child during pregnancy, details of which I don’t choose to share. And I don’t really care what anyone’s opinion on that might be either.

I am mostly antisocial. Because under all the bravado, I am relatively shy and find making small talk awkward.

I would choose hiking in the woods to a party any day.

Being dirty makes me happy. There is something satisfying when a garden is planted and it blooms.

There are stories running through my head every day. Someday I hope I write them down.

I am a nice person. As long as you are not an asshole. Then all bets are off.

Kissing is my favorite type of foreplay.

I lost my mother, my father and my nephew to horrible lengthy illnesses within a four year time period. It changed me; some for the better, some for the worse. I am still working on the worse.

I will avoid confrontation if at all possible. If it’s not, then I will kick your ass.

I love to play word games because I am a very good speller. And really bad at strategy games.

I hate math.

I almost failed high school French. I was more interested in making out with my French teacher’s son. Which is probably why I almost failed.

I pick at or chew my cuticles when I'm nervous.

I truly believe If people would just be a little more respectful of one another’s view points, and listen to each other, real quantitative things could get done to change our world. It does not always have to be about whose dick is bigger, theoretically speaking.

Given the choice of folding laundry or reading a book, the book will always win.

I love to hang out and talk with my kids. They lead much more exciting lives than I do so this is probably a “living vicariously” thing.

I prefer being behind the camera, than in front of it. I don’t like the way I look in pictures.

While strongly opinionated, I am remarkably open-minded. Unless you are an asshole. Then, again, all bets are off. 

When I lost my license for driving without insurance, I did 180 hours of community service as an EMT. I enjoyed what I did so much that I stayed with it for two more years. It was one of the most rewarding things I had done at that point in my life. Until I had kids.

I have danced at many Grateful Dead concerts.

That Hunter Thompson killed himself before the McCain/Palin presidential run will always be a regret. Because Oh! The FUNNY…..

The reason I do not dye the gray hair taking over my head? I am lazy. And it's kind've frosty.

I will recommend to my daughter, and son, to live with someone before marrying them. It is the only way to know whether two people can stand to live in the same space together.

I am menopausal.

There it is folks. The titillating fodder of my scandalous and risqué lifestyle

I forgot to mention that I’m usually in bed by 10:30 p.m. All that sex, drugs and booze make a girl tired.

Please don’t hurt your jaw while yawning.

randomly mental

There is no such thing as comfortable heels. I don’t care what anyone says. We are not supposed to walk on the balls of our feet. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Is it possible to stunt your children’s growth when exposed to prolonged fart stench?

Has my 11 year old daughter been irrevocably scarred by watching Me, Myself & Irene? Some of those scenes have burned themselves into my brain and I may never recover. Funny as all hell, but the image some guy with a chicken stuffed up his ass may be way too much for her young psyche. Throughout the movie she resembled the Speak No Evil, See No Evil, Hear No Evil monkeys and would spontaneously cover her face with the blanket. At the least she’ll have one more instance of parental fuckupitude to share with a therapist someday. Might as well get her money’s worth.

*I want it on record here that I was the lone dissenter when picking that movie. I said, No, let’s watch Lara Croft, but THEY all said No! This one. It’s all on their heads.

I get this weird stray hair on my belly that gets really long and it got stuck in my zipper this morning and it hurt like crazy when I yanked it out. Is this the onset of advanced age random hair growth? Will stray facial hairs begin popping out unexpectedly, like in the middle of a meeting and then people will be staring at the odd wiry growth sprouting from my forehead?

The speakers on my office computer make everything sound like it’s bouncing off metal walls. It’s really fucking annoying.

Just because I don’t call someone back, does not mean I’m being a bitch. It just means I am BUSY. There is shit to do. I’ll get to you. At some point. Maybe. Or not. Bitch might not be that far off the mark after all.

My daughter had to do a biography report for school that included making a puppet representing the person she chose. She opted to go full out and make a polymer clay puppet with a movable mouth, arms and legs, almost like a ventriloquist dummy. Some days I am equally gut-busting proud and intimidated by her level of artistic creativity. I’m not certain Drew Barrymore would appreciate the likeness but it’s the interpretations that counts, isn’t it?

When we got home from vacation Ace was suddenly as tall as I am. My days of using the height intimidation factor to get him to do his chores just evaporated. I’ll have to settle for verbal domination. And Xbox time leverage. Ah, the power of holding Xbox time hostage. It is a glorious thing, plus I outweigh him.

I’m listening to this new Audio book titled Name of the Wind. The words are music and magic all rolled into one. If you like epic fantasy crafted in such a way that you feel you are there, in the story, then go read or listen. I kind’ve want to smother the author, Patrick Rothfuss, with sloppy tongue kisses in gratitude, but it’s probable he’d have me arrested. And how would that look?

After years of feeling all smug and superior about not getting sucked into the American Idol whirlpool, SuperHubby and I have succumbed to its inexorable grasp. Even as we sit and dissect the episode in front of us, part of my brain is bitch slapping me for being a tool.

I have a bazillion great pictures of New Orleans (Men in Dresses, plastic boobs, drunk Saints fans) and Mayan Ruins (ancient buildings, cenotes, feet nibbling fish) that I want to plaster all over these pages but can’t get my procrastinating ass in gear to sit and just do it.

Our friendly Home Depot deliverymen delivered our shiny new GE Profile Dryer and I can’t wait to load it up with wet clothes. So I can have clean underwear. Going commando at work just feels weird sometimes.