Disgruntled Princess

File and Smake it.

2009-09-29T23:18:00.002-05:00

We all know there is something irresistible about the hind end of football players on the field...all bent over waiting for the snap...tight poly stretched across their buns. OK snap out of it...entirelry different story when the players are 10 years old...and your offspring. Still cute in a skinny, "that's my boy" kind of way. It doesn't matter how good they are (unless they are really, really good...and then you don't really need to talk about it, everyone just knows), it really is about how much fun they have out there. They work together, they respect the coaches, they take crap from the coaches, they grow thicker skin, they sweat, they cry and they roll on the field when they win. It is all still new, they try different positions and they make mistakes. The coaches revert back to boyhood and the boys feel like men. Sometimes it just comes together...and sometimes they win...sometimes by one point.

Have Thoughts...Must Write.

2009-09-28T23:49:00.002-05:00

My head is full. It feels like it may explode. Don't worry it won't be coming out orifices of my head...hopefully. If I am lucky it will all spew forth from the end of my fingertips. I must discipline the thoughts bouncing around the inside of my skull, tame them and mold them into coherent stories to be written and stored for as long as this thing they call the internet survives. Oh yeah...I must also find the time to tackle that mountain. This cannot including sleep time or running time when I just happen to have many great ideas...but fail to remember them when I actually have a key board or a pad of paper handy. However, the Big Guy has the perfect solution to that problem: nipple rings, one on each side...a pad of paper hanging from one and a pen from the other. How would I survive without him?!

Waiting for a rainy day.

2009-07-15T09:23:00.003-05:00

I spend long winters waiting for hot sunny days...and then when they get here I feel the need to be outside enjoying them. But every once in a while it is nice to have a cool, rainy day to give me the excuse to stay inside and get a few things done. Yeah sure, I could do a load of laundry or wash the kitchen floor...which will just be dirty again tomorrow when we are all back to running in and out from the hot sunny day...the mud left over from the rain the day before...you get the picture...but I would much rather gather on the couch with the Wild Ones, have a few snuggles, read a few books, play a few games and then just in case we haven't had enough lazy time...head off to a movie that we have been dying to see. OK, it has rained and we've done all that, now...BRING BACK THE SUN...please!

Talk about neglect!

2009-07-13T14:07:00.002-05:00

Something always has to give...as "they" say. I have been busy starting a business...spurred on by a client that thought I was already in business. She heard from a friend of a friend that I was ready to go and who was I to say I wasn't. Perhaps it was the kick in the butt I needed to take the leap...OK it WAS the kick I needed. I feel a bit behind the 8 ball with my own business, but my first project is complete...with a little on-going consultation to boot. With that done, I now have time for my life again...well a little anyway until school starts back up after labor day. Until then, I will try to take time for the kids, time for the Big Guy and a bit of time for myself...all mixed in with the continuation of the new business. Oh, the name of the business..."lollipop design" Website Design, Communications and Marketing for small and start up businesses...website anyone?

Tooting My Own Horn.

2009-06-09T11:25:00.002-05:00

Don't you just love the "corner", "neighborhood", "mom-n-pop" shops? I have been looking for a saxophone for the bean Wild One and let me tell you for a woman who knows "not so much" about music...this has not been fun. I searched craigslist, local sites, talked to friends and neighbors and even thought of checking the local junk yard. I researched and found the size and brand I wanted and determined a price I would not go over...keeping in mind that we are talking about a 10 year old with no previous music experience who thought he might play the flute cuz someone told him it was an easy instrument to learn...which quickly caused an earsplitting fight with the tallest Wild One who just happens to play the flute...quite well and easily I might add. I scratched off craigslist and online ordering and made a list of music stores that sell used equipment and happen to have the exact sax I...I mean the Wild One...wanted. All four locations happen to be waaayyyy across town so I checked the maps and made a game plan. As I drove up to the first stop...35 minutes later...I knew I was going to find something. The shopping area was nestled in a quaint little neighborhood of old brick buildings, sidewalks covered in chalk and no Starbucks or Caribous with in miles (you might think that is a bad thing...and on some days I would agree...but I would so rather walk into a corner coffee shop where everybody knows my name...well they wouldn't there cuz I live so far away and have never been there before and the local Caribou baristas do know me...or perhaps I should say my car but that's beside the point). I went in and found a young man (ha...he was probably 30) who promptly introduced himself and told me that he and his father own the store and have been dealing with instruments for over 35 years. They prep everything...as in tune and repair...before they are willing to sell it and offer great guarantees and inexpensive yearly tunes. I fell in love with the store and found an instrument slightly out of my price range. I asked what other options they had and after looking at a few things, the young man offered me a deal on the first sax I picked out...of course with the strap, oil, reeds etc I quickly ate up my savings. But really, where else would you get this type of service and deal? I hope they are the real deal...otherwise I am a huge sucker and they are laughing all the way to the bank!

I Always Wanted a Nickname.

2009-06-08T11:04:00.004-05:00

Sure I have a couple of nicknames...a couple of 40 year old men call me Kitten, the Wild Ones call me Bunsie and some times Mombo, I kind of remember my dad calling me KiKi before I was old enough to ignore him and a few close friends call me Kimi...but no universal nick name that everyone knows as me. So last week a couple of things happened to me...OK actually I caused them to happen...and I found a new nick name for myself. First, I dropped off the wee Wild One at baseball...across town...even though I didn't see any other orange shirts (but I did leave him with the tall Wild One...and her cell phone, TG!) and then raced up to the high school trying not to be late (again) for lacrosse. I was feeling a little weird about not seeing any team mates at the baseball park and as I went around the corner of the lacrosse field I realized why...13 little baseball players all dressed in orange warming up for their game. Thankfully the Big Guy had freed himself from his traffic jam and was able to pick up the two abandoned Wild Ones and get them to the proper...and safe...field. Second, I allowed the tall Wild One to stay after school the other day to study for a math final...which was weird cuz she usually would have volunteered after school that day in the wee Wild One's classroom...but he was home sick and she needed some extra, quiet study time. So I went to get her, cranked the music and raced home...smile on my face as I realized I was just ahead of the bus. I rolled to a complete stop in front of the garage and as I was reaching to turn the car off...my cell phone rang...with the dreaded school phone number. Yep, the school secretary wondering if I was on my way to pick up the middle Wild One. I was so excited that I beat the bus that I didn't even stop to think that he wasn't even on it! AND...I had just left the school 10 minutes earlier with his sister. So the next time you see me, feel free to call me Moty...you know, Mother of the Year!

Go Green? Almost.

2009-06-05T11:07:00.003-05:00

I recycle, I refuse unnecessary bags at stores...and use my own when I don't forget them in the trunk of the car...I turn the water off when brushing, I even double up on shower time with the Big Guy. I pay my bills by wire (although some still send the paper bills and then print "do not pay...scheduled for automatic deduction" which goes right into recycling...don't they get the point of paperless?) and am trying to create a compost center at my house. But for the life of me I cannot get rid of my 12 paper calendars...which are in every room and even in the car...I know the trees frown upon me, but I wouldn't make it through the first hour of the day without them. I am also in need of a reference manual and upon checking on-line (after seeing the long reserve line at the library) apparently I have the option of the paperback or on-line edition. People, I know the right choice and I want to follow that path...but I feel hives rising on my neck at the thought. I know that it would be easier to open the laptop and browse page by treeless page, but there is something about being able to feel the smooth pulp between my fingers and add my own lead scratch marks that takes my fingers hostage and hovers them over the paperback option. I will do my best...perhaps I should haul my computer outside, sit in the shade and take inspiration from the fact that I still have that option for staying cool...which reminds me of my favorite summer activity...reading my paperbacks on the hammock leisurely stretched between two tall birch trees. See what I'm dealing with here!?!?

Tribute to Brett Favre.

2009-06-03T08:54:00.004-05:00

I mean the Favre we talk about and still love (to hate...for some of the die hard Vike's fans) that rivaled our home team, but caught the attention of the wee Wild One. Yep he had the fever...Green Bay hats, blankets, winter coat, mittens, scarf, Favre jerseys, t-shirts...and took a lot of grief for it. I thought I would show my support of him and let nature turn our yard into a shrine for Favre lovers all around us (OK for the two other fans I know of). Come on you have to admit they are kind of cute...I get bouquets from the Wild Ones all the time (some as tall as 14 inches and some crazy fused ones that have five heads) and I hear they make a delicious side dish. I'm guessing the new neighbor across the street is not a Green Bay lover...the chemical trucks have been there twice a week trying to rid his yard of any Favredom. He even burned a patch of lawn...perhaps he is a Viking's fan and is preparing to plant purple and white flowers instead. That would be great cuz when my seeds float over there and sprout their pretty gold flowers next year it will be the perfect touch that his Viking's bed was missing.

Everything Keeps Revolving...No Matter What We Do or Don't Do.

2009-06-01T12:43:00.003-05:00

Just when I thought life's craziness was subsiding and the lazy days of summer were headed my way...I realized that they (the things that wreak havoc in my life) were just really good at playing "Hide-and-seek," but I wasn't seeking...I swear. I have lost count of clinic visits and trips to the hospital...and may be headed there again later today. This time it should just be minor, but never start the celebrations too early. Perhaps it is all a master plan by the Wild Ones to shorten the amount of time that they have to spend in school...although I'm pretty sure they would pick school to the pain and the tests they have had to undergo. Cross your fingers and say a prayer, but I think we are going to dive into summer vacation (and many new posts) next week with three happy healthy Wild Ones...and one really tired mom.

Tick...I mean..."Tis the Season.

2009-05-26T14:14:00.003-05:00

In my mind, Memorial weekend always seems to kick off summer. We are pretty safe planting flowers and hooking up the hoses. The Grouchy Dog has been opened and the boat uncovered...and now we can really start to use them. Each year we make the trek up the "The Cabin" to start the summer festivities. It was a beautiful weekend filled with laughter, sunshine, fun and ticks (and yes for you die hards, the vodka was flowing...we-my two sidekicks and myself-even initiated the End Zone). But back to the ticks...the first one is gross and makes everyone a little more alert, but by numbers 12, 13...22 it's just not so bad any more. We picked them off in the weeds, the tall grass, the woods and even just sitting in the grass (ok I was actually laying in the grass...after getting beaned in the head with a soccer ball...I don't believe the big guy when he said he was aiming for the Wild One...his hands, not his head). I found two crawling on me just before we left and a couple on the Wild Ones...and Miss Z. We did one last "once over" before we headed out...we were a little crammed in and didn't have room for any hitch hikers...and came up clean. We decided to catch a movie on the way home (leave it to the Fun Family to wedge one more thing in before the sun goes down) and right as the lights began to dim, I felt something on my hip. I was pretty sure it was nothing (after all I had triple checked) and I really didn't feel like pulling my pants down in the theater...so I tried to sit still and enjoy the movie. Fast forward about 3 seconds...I whippped my pants down over my right hip and there he was...a huge bugger making his way upward. I had to wait until there was enough light coming from the screen so that I could pick it off...and then sat there squishing it between my fingers thinking, "Now WTF am I going to do with it?" I ran to the end of the isle and flicked it onto the metal part of the step and then poked it...I figured if it was still moving it would never get past all the other people and make it back to me...I felt pretty safe...but, I sat through the rest of the movie squirming, flinching, gawking and scratching at every little flicker of dust that came near my body. We all arrived home safely and with no more tick attacks. We all lingered in hot showers and baths and climbed in for a "OMG I am so happy to be sleeping in my own bed" good nights sleep. And we all slept like babies...including the little brown friend we found this morning burrowed in the side of the tallest Wild One.

2009-05-18T12:23:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I feel like research on the internet is like reading National Enquirer. Someone sends something to your in-box about some cool new thing or most likely some warning of what not to do, have, eat, say...fill in the blank. At first you think, "Wow, I didn't know that...hmmm...will have to be more careful about ______."

It's kind of like walking past the "newspaper" (that is what one of my grandmothers used to call the N.E. If you questioned something wacky that she said, she would look at you like you didn't know a whole lot and say, "Of course it's true, I read it in the newspaper."). You know that the stories in the "newspaper" are not true or real (perhaps based on a real word that may have been uttered with in a mile of said information that is being touted), but something makes you look and even quickly wonder if it could be possible. The next thing you know you are at a party (never an empty cup in hand) and you proclaim some far out truth...that you know to be true...cuz you saw it in the "newspaper".

Same thing happens with the e-mails claiming your left arm will fall off if you eat green veggies grown in soil made from the organic compost that came from the pharmaceutical plant in Alaska. After you read it you are a little freaked out and you want all your friends to be freaked out too...OK maybe you just want to make sure they don't lose their left arm...so you hit forward before your brain has had the chance to send out the "this is absurd...snicker and hit delete" message. In the case that you get the message and don't hit forward cuz you think maybe you need to check it out a bit first, beware of the internet. I guarantee that if you search for "green veggies cause missing arms in Alaska" you will find just as many sites that confirm the email as sites that don't say anything, but just make a laughing sound when you enter them.

So while the internet can offer a wealth of information, I caution you not to believe everything you read. Did you know that the name wikipedia came from the two words wicked and encyclopedia? Anyone can create (or change existing) entires with little or no knowledge of the subject at hand and often do so to create mayhem in the world. Believe me, it's true...I read it online.

Mothers...Happy Day to y'all.

2009-05-11T12:59:00.004-05:00

Do we really need a day to celebrate mothers? I mean I AM a mother, I love my mother, most of my friends are mothers...but there would be nothing without us mothers (check 6th grade sex ed if you really doubt that). So really a day? It should be a celebration of life everyday...come on at least a weekend! And shouldn't it be about being pampered...and maybe, just maybe getting a break from being a mother? I don't like the pressure of finding the right gift or doing the right thing and I don't like wondering what my family will plan...or if they will plan. I think all mothers should unite and treat each day as if it were Mother's Day...cuz after all it pretty much is. If you insist, we could also plan quarterly weekends away...to reflect and refresh and come back as better mothers (I have heard that works!). So cheers to all the women I know that are mothers...not just on that one Sunday in May, but everyday that you give out hugs, kisses, wipe noses and faces (and for some...bottoms), brush away tears, stay up late wondering whether you are going to ground your child for 3 years or pull them into your arms when they show up two hours late, reluctantly let them ride their bike...or hand them your car keys...to a friends house for the first time, celebrate good grades, cheer at sporting events (especially those held in pouring rain, flurries of mosquitoes or blistering sun), make meal after mean, wash the same clothes over and over, bite your tongue when you know you are right, stand back with tears in your eyes while they stand up for themselves and all the other activities you do on a daily basis...all for the best gift of all...the love they hold in their hearts (whether they show it at all times or not).

Be careful what you start.

2009-05-08T10:38:00.002-05:00

You're a new mom...innocent in the ways of raising kids...eager to do your best...you want to get involved and make sure you contribute to their education. First comes ECFE (that's early childhood family education for you newbies) and it's great, you meet a bunch of great families, expand your community...then just when you are living the life they ask for a little favor. Could you spend an hour working at a club activity or donate some mashed potatoes for the Thanksgiving preschool celebration? Run!!! OK, you don't have to run...but don't give them your real name, phone number or email. I'm not kidding. Pretty soon you will be chairing your own committees or the whole damn program and before you know it...you will be working part-time (did I mention "unpaid"?) between all the community schools...volunteering with teachers in the class room, phy-ed class, art classes and mentoring students after school. You will be making cards, buying treats and hauling cakes to school. Once they have your name, they know how to use it. My suggestion to you...other than the obvious, "No thank you"...go ahead, help out a little (it can actually be quite fun) but give them an alias. We all have some kookie, mysterious or perhaps elegant name we secretly wish our friends would call us (don't we??). I suggest when someone solicits your help you smile, say "Sure, I'd love to. Have we met? Let me introduce myself, my name is Cleopatra Wowasake."

Every man (or student) for himself.

2009-05-05T07:15:00.002-05:00

You really get the flavor of people when a "pandemic" comes to town. Yes our quaint little village has been struck again...this time with the swine flu (now known as H1N1 Novel Influenza for fear of offending any pig farmers out there). The schools were closed yesterday "as a caution" and we were all advised to stay home and not congregate. The "probable case" came from the high school and we were exposed to families (and some kids themselves) with kids in high school not just Friday night and Saturday night, but at a Sunday brunch as well so...we laid low yesterday...didn't even run to the store for milk (which had a lot more to do with how much work I had to do than not spreading/catching any germs). Today the High School remains closed, but the middle, intermediate and elementary schools are all back in business (disinfected by the custodians...who are immune? I hope the bus company followed suit). So let's see...should we assume that those high schoolers who have been exposed have no siblings who are in the other three schools and that their parents are not off at Honeywell or walking the skyways of Minneapolis...or how 'bout the Big Guy who hopped on a plane to New Orleans yesterday? He was not sure whether to be worried about passing along germs on the plane or catching something worse down in the bayou. I know people who took the day off from school as a vacation day and got together with groups of friends...which pretty much makes this unstoppable. What I am saying here is that if it's going around, you're going to be exposed no matter what you do (short of building a bubble around yourself...and maybe even by then you would have been exposed anyway and then you would be trapped inside your padded cell with all those nasty germs). Between leaving school on Friday (and I volunteered at three of the four schools that day) and prior to knowing the germs were multiplying in our area, our family was in contact with families from two other school districts and three different colleges not to mention all the offices and cities associated with the various adults in the rooms. So...the Big Guys solution on Sunday afternoon after receiving the news, "I'm going to take this matter into my own hands and drown it with vodka...lots of vodka." Seems to be working.

Planning committee.

2009-04-30T12:58:00.002-05:00

I am strapped for time, over scheduled and being pulled in 12 different directions. I need time to sit down and figure out where all the paths are leading and how I can merge some of them...or at least get them to run in parallel directions. That got me to thinking about how we (go ahead and admit it...you'd take them if someone offered) could use a few more hours in each day. Now I know that is not how the world was designed, but who says things have to stay the same? Things are renegotiated all the time...contracts, salaries, relationships...so why not hours of the day? I'd like to propose a committee, I'll even chair it...cuz I have so much extra time...to renegotiate the number of hours in a day. I'll start high, give a little-to look flexible...then dive in hard for the best deal (OK, I have been know to meet half way...but I'll be strong). What...another 4 hours...day light of course...that's not asking too much...just a little breathing room. Settled. Now, who can connect me with the Maker of the World? Tomorrow at noon would be good.

I can see it now.

2009-04-24T13:23:00.002-05:00

Breaking News: Independence mother sought in questionable practices (for jail or institution?). An unnamed 41 year old woman had been accused of locking two sons in their bedrooms...no, not bad enough; duct taping them back to back...no, they might think that was funny; sending them to the basement with nerf guns...no, they might break something; making them load the dishwasher and mop the kitchen floor...no, they would some how turn that into skating on soapy rags; putting them in the backyard and locking the door-from the inside...no, they would consider that an adventure; leaving boys in house and sitting in her car with the radio cranked full blast...no, the neighbors might investigate; back to sending them down the hall to their own rooms (and letting them duke it out all the way there) with a stern warning to stay there and NOT interact with each other...ahh, peace and quiet (perhaps a cocktail at the Grouchy dog...for the mother...not the boys)...for two minutes...then whispering, and scheming and some sort of elaborate plan being acted out at the end of the hallway...fun, adventure, collaboration, sounds of havoc and possible destruction. Just the way is should be...but shhhh don't tell them where I'm hiding.

Not the way I remember it.

2009-04-22T13:58:00.003-05:00

Too bad the libraries cannot charge admission...or rent out quiet space or tables. I opted to work from one of the local libraries today to avoid the distractions of a home office (animals, laundry...the refrigerator) and was shocked to see the crowds. I got here early and it was like Macy's the day after Thanksgiving. No lie...I stopped counting at 50...and that's referring to the number of people waiting at the gate to get in. The security guard that opened the gate looked like he was ready to call for back up. I had to do a little elbowing and a drunken walk to keep people from getting in front of me and taking the coveted spot in the corner study room...the private one with outlets and glass doors. I stepped out to take a break and almost every chair in this place is being warmed by an adult butt attached to a face that looks like it would rather be some where else. Some studying, but mostly people working or looking for work. It's really quite a site to see...and really quite sad. Damn economy!

It's all Semantics.

2009-04-20T08:45:00.004-05:00

Do you have any idea what I'm trying to say here? I use text messaging and instant messaging a lot...and oh yeah, I write a few blogs (did you catch the tone of my voice changing there?)...and I have a habit of using sarcasm (yes, I should probably take that up with my therapist). I can use the standard text language to shorten my stroking time (even impressed my teenaged niece with my speed and agility...and you won't hear that often in the same sentence with my name) and can add a few icons to help with the mood, but I have not mastered the art of typed semantics. I have pissed off a few people who could not "hear" my snickering behind the words and left others confused as to what the heck I was talking about. I know this is an issue for sociologists, especially in the study of children and their use of non-face to face contact. They are not learning the same things we did as kids...only the really brave or stupid kids called someone a bad name to their face, but were poised to duck or run even before the last words were out of their mouths. I could write a book on cyber bullying, but all I really want to know is how to get my voice across written media...with the intent and feeling in which I say it in my head. For now I will just sit back and wonder who and how many actually get what I'm trying to say...and no one will ever truly know.

The Passing of Winter.

2009-04-15T09:04:00.003-05:00

I feel really badly for the teachers at this time of year (at least in places that truly have four seasons). The Wild Ones are all home by four, but the house is quiet until after eight...and then the only noise is that coming from my mouth as I stand in the door an holler at them to get their skinny little butts in the house and start getting for bed (some times I even threaten no reading time if they don't hurry up). Then they are up at the crack of dawn, scrambling into clean (I hope) clothes and stuffing some protein and carbs in their system so they can get outside to get a few innings of baseball in before the bus comes...and then stomping off to the bus if Sandy comes before they get their last (home run I'm sure) hit in. The fresh air feels good and the heat from the sun is intense (even at 40 degrees this morning...wearing shorts and t-shirts). I don't have the heart to say no to the late nights and the early mornings (as long as they scramble through the homework and some nutrition) and I hope that the invigoration that they get will carry them through the day when the lack of rest starts to settle in. Perhaps I should pack a treat for the teachers to help them deal with the sun and fresh air starved Minnesota children who have finally been unleashed into the most welcomed time of year. Better yet...I should just try to get them to bed on time.

Whew...I'm not crazy after all.

2009-04-09T10:53:00.005-05:00

Well, maybe I shouldn't go so far as to say I'm not crazy, but at least I am not really hearing things. My life is filled with noises...from kids, a spouse, animals, phones, computers, iPods and occasionally the TV...which manages to put me on sensory overload by the end of the day. So after our two and a half hour morning ritual of getting the Wild Ones off to school, the house suddenly becomes very quiet...and I become very happy. Although now that it is spring, there is an abundance of sounds coming from outside...mostly birds. This morning as I was sitting in my solitude I thought I heard voices...and living-literally-in the middle of "no where" I was a little concerned. I opened one of the back doors to see if one of the cats was "calling" me. They weren't right there so I started calling for them. They didn't say anything back, but I swear a bird started mimicking me and calling the cat's name...this may cause concern over my sanity, but feel free to stop by and I will let you listen...and what is really weird is that the cats came running to the door. At this point, all the animals were accounted for and I sat back down at my computer. But...I could still hear the voices. I tried to pretend they weren't there (cuz really I thought I must be imagining them) and continued to work. A while later I got up to do something in the basement and realized there was a TV on in the living room (no one turns the TV on in the morning so it never crossed my mind). At least I know I am not crazy...and I think I will leave it on, you never know when you might need a little company.

Torture.

2009-04-08T09:07:00.003-05:00

This is my brain on html. So I had this great idea to learn how to create web sites...not the template kind, oh no, the real deal with all the crazy languages and codes. Honestly, I am loving it...can't step away from the computer...totally fascinated with what I am able to create...until I got to the chapter where I had to get my really cool brainchild onto the internet. After all, that is the only place I can share my masterpiece. I was kind of hoping I could click a button or two that would make it appear...all quick and easy. Not only is that not quite how it works, but finding a name and a place to store it is an issue that the book says to "research on your own". Now I know why. I spent about 8 hours yesterday researching domain names and hosts which lead to my intense need to figure out how the entire internet process works (this for a girl that still doesn't understand how you can take a piece of paper, send it through the phone lines...fax...and have it "magically" turn into a different piece of paper, identical to the first, some where else...huh?). The bad news...it took the Big Guy to explain it to me first and then 4 hours on the computer to help it soak in. The good news...I get it. DNS, NSP, NAP, MAE, protocols, applications, routers, hierarchies, backbones, IP, ISP, TSP...yep I get it, my brain hurts, but I get it. So now what? Well nothing, I guess, unless you consider that I may have saved a few neurons from atrophy in my old age. Perhaps I should think about getting a job...or just getting out a bit more.

Happy Birthday Baby!

2009-04-06T08:08:00.002-05:00

Can you even think back 12 years and remember what life was like? Other than the freedoms (which are coming back with a 12 year old that can babysit) what I remember most about 12 years ago was the agonizing pain I endured for more than 24 hours until the relief of the emergency c-section and then the most adorable, white haired, scrunched faced little girl they placed near my head (see c-section comment...arms strapped out to my sides). The pain went away and was replaced by the most incredible love (don't believe me?...try 3 more babies in the next 4 years). And look at her now...taller than her mother (with legs that go almost to my arm pits), A honor roll every quarter, beautiful smile and the hugest heart you have ever had the honor to be touched by. I am so proud of who she has become and feel very lucky to be her Mombo. Happy 12th Birthday Migli!

It's Starting to Feel Like Spring.

2009-04-03T11:16:00.003-05:00

The birds are waking me up in the morning, it is light again at the first bus run, the trees are budding, the winter jackets are put away (ok, they are really in a pile by the back door...but no one is wearing them any more) and what's that...a snake dangling from the kitty's mouth? Yep, it must be spring. I didn't believe the Tall Wild One when she calmly stated that the cats were outside playing with a snake...maybe I just didn't want to believe it. But, dang it, I happened to catch something out of the corner of my eye...and sure enough the cats were pouncing around the back yard with something black and wiggly between their paws. When I went out to yell at them (I don't know why I even bothered...they are cats you know) one of them picked it up and looked like he was going to bring it to me (which if I had asked him to do...he would have run the other way or simply looked at me like, "Yeah, right!"). That is when the real screaming began and I almost knocked over the Tall Wild One trying to get back in the house...I may have even closed her out there by mistake. Thank God for little boys. My Shaggy Wild One came to the rescue and used a stick to carry the (now dead...I think) snake to the garbage can out front. I thought that was the last of it...but I couldn't get it out of my mind, or what I thought the feel of it would be, off my skin. I was still thinking about it this morning when I realized that the garbage needed to be taken down to the end of the driveway for pick up. Thank God for big boys. The Big Guy graciously agreed (after taking out the kitchen garbage and leaving the lid of the can propped open) to haul the can down on his way to work. Fast forward to my phone ringing after the Big Guy had left...he forgot about the garbage. So I sucked it up, put on a pair of gloves (some how I was convinced they would protect me) and tip toed around the can looking for any evidence of a slimy (yes I know they aren't really slimy, but come on we are talking about a snake here) legless creature. I tipped the can to get it on it's rollers and proceeded down the driveway...for about three steps. I was sure that if I wasn't watching that the snake would creep over the edge and make a bee line for my arm. I turned around and walked backward (down the lonnggg, steep driveway) keeping my eyes peeled for any movement. Fortunately, I made it with no problems...now I just have to make it to my car and hope that it didn't escape over night to find a nice warm place to take cover.

Benign.

2009-04-01T19:22:00.002-05:00

What a difference a word makes. Surgery...a piece of cake. Recovery...long and slow, and oh yeah...complicated by an injured shoulder. How does one go in for "female" surgery and end up with a swollen shoulder. My mom couldn't seem to remember much that happened after the first happy pill, so when the nurses were trying to figure out what had happened to her shoulder...she just wasn't much help. The anesthesiologist acted defensive, but did admit that they had administered some sort of meds that contained amnesia type substance...hmmm...wonder if they gave her that before or after they dropped her off the gurney? Looks like she's gonna survive...and thank goodness for the hurt arm...that's the only reason they gave her the "good" drugs.

Black Clouds and a Rainy Day.

2009-03-31T07:54:00.005-05:00

Waking up to the dreary rain and dark sky seems some what fitting today. I try to keep these posts upbeat and light, but some days are just dark. I am not looking for sympathy, just saying it like it is...I learned that from the Wild Ones. Last night I heard the padding of little feet in the hallway and as soon as the Wee Wild One made it around the corner I knew it was going to be a rough night. I knew that hang of his head and that look in his eyes...I knew what was coming. What I didn't know was how it would drop me to my knees. He was missing his brother and wanted to know how we could get him back. He said he knew we couldn't really get him back, but could we get another child and name him Oliver? He thought adoption would be a good idea. Then he proceeded to talk about the accident and how he wished it hadn't happened (I won't repeat his words, but he told it like it was). He was afraid to go to sleep because he thought someone else would die. We cried, snuggled and talked about life. He finally fell asleep...if not happy, at least content with our love and strength. All this came on the eve of a phone call I am dreading...the one from my mom that will end with the word "benign" or "malignant".

Happy Trails.

2009-03-30T13:07:00.003-05:00

One long car ride...a day early...out running the tornadoes, floods and ice storms. We came home to sunshine, but our tanned toes got quite the shock when we stepped outside...we seemed to have forgotten any shoes with substance and the straps across our flip flops did little to protect from the 30 degree gusting winds. Today we are back in our winter coats...and shoes which require socks. Jumping into our routines...school buses, work and volunteering...and catching up on pages of backlogged computer messages (thank God I unplugged the phone while we were gone...I figured those that desperately needed us would some how track us down...I guess that is why my pages are bursting at the seams!). Perhaps by the end of the week I will have dug out from under the piles of laundry and accumulated stuff from the trip long enough to download some pictures and conjure up stories from the beach. Until then, I need to go find my fuzzy slippers.

Our vacation has become official.

2009-03-24T13:58:00.004-05:00

Just not a family vacation without a trip to the emergency room. Several hours, several dollars and a few tears...back on track and ready to party. Now the fun begins.

Made it in 5 pieces.

2009-03-21T09:49:00.005-05:00

We arrived safely and in pretty good spirits. Perhaps a little loopy from lack of sleep and stiff from the long ride, but thrilled to see my Grands looking better than when I left them in December. While the kids ran for the pool, the Big Guy went looking for the only spot he could connect to the "real world". This of course was after his late night adventure. My Grands asked him to run to the store to get two bags of oranges so that Great (J. Harley) and George Harley could make us fresh squeezed orange juice for breakfast...a tradition started by the Harleys years ago. I was exhausted and headed for bed leaving the Big Guy to navigate the streets of PCB. I woke with a start at 12:45 am to find the other half of the bed empty. I jumped up, threw on some clothes and tried to get my bearings. I heard something that I couldn't quite figure out...it was someone calling my name from outside, under the porch. Evidently my Grands did not realize that the Big Guy had left to get their oranges...and locked him out. He tried to climb the back porch, scale the front of the house and when that didn't work he went to sleep in the car. He woke at 12:45 am with the thought that he had left the sliding door open on the porch...hence my name being called from outside my window. I finally figured out that it was him and let him in through the front door. When we finally got back in bed I couldn't sleep...what are the chances that we both woke at 12:45 looking for each other? Blind luck...or something else??

No, I'm not in jail.

2009-03-17T15:23:00.003-05:00

Contrary to popular belief, I did not wind up in jail this weekend, but if I did it would have been a heck of a party with all my crazy girlfriends sitting beside me! I left for three days and the price I pay is the backlog of EVERYTHING that needs to get done now that I am back. I have to give the Big Guy credit...he got everyone to and from all of their activities, they look like they were well cared for, they all had tons of fun, the house was not destroyed when I got home and they even had dinner ready and waiting for me Sunday night. The biggest problem was in MY planning. 1. Tackle large project for the Big Guy 2. Schedule weekend with girlfriends 3. Plan trip for spring break (and all the warm weather things that go with that, which we in MN have not thought about...and out grown...in the last 6 months) all within 9 days. I thought I was brighter than that. Oh well, on the positive side...I don't have much time to worry about everything that still needs to be done. And on that note...Disgruntled Princess may be intermittent for the next two weeks while I attend to my children, the Big Guy, my MIL, my Grands and my bronze glow...not necessarily in that order!

Shenanigans.

2009-03-13T07:41:00.004-05:00

What happens when a bunch of early middle aged soccer/hockey/football/basketball moms pack themselves up and head out of town for the weekend? I'm not sure, but I'll let you know on Monday!

I am doing my best.

2009-03-12T08:33:00.002-05:00

One last (positive thinking please) cold spell with beautiful white virgin (too cold to play in it) snow. I am loving in...picking through my closets of sub-zero winter wear. I want to have the perfect outfit for today as it may be the last time I "get" to wear this stuff for another 7 months. I will bask in my warmth (as I try not to sneeze from the fur lined collars) and do a little jig to honor Old Man Winter...well maybe just to keep warm, but don't tell him. On the outside I will look like a crazy happy (and toasty) lady who loves winter...but inside I will be drowning in my fantasy that the snow is the white sand of the Emerald Coast and the bite on my cheeks is from the salt in the sea water spraying from the ocean. This should tide me over until spring break (6 days away). When I return with sand embedded in my hair and tender red skin I will do what the rest of the Minnesotans do...the dance of spring. As soon as the temps rise into the 50's we bring out the shorts and start wearing flip flops (I love seeing bright pink toenails covered in snow). That is the sign to turn off winter and let us loose...we have paid our tributes (with frost bite and sore backs from shoveling) and we need a break. I'll try to get that memo out before I leave town.

He Just Keeps Getting Older...I Mean Better.

2009-03-09T14:19:00.004-05:00

Yesterday was the Big Guys birthday...wow another year (well for him at least, I still have 3 months to go). I have to say he is as cute as the day I met him...who could resist those eyes or that smile (and those adorable curls)? Happy Birthday RS, here are 43 reasons why I love you: your eyes, your lips, your legs, your curls, your sense of humor, the way you stare into my eyes, your foot rubs, you don't hog the bed (usually), you give me my space, you work hard, you are a genius, you adore our kids, you're my best friend, you are always happy, you are always up for "what ever", you like to invent, we think a like, you like my family, you are truly fun to be with, you adore me, you love to give me massages, you bring me coffee in bed, you are tender, you are loyal, you are a never ending stream of ideas, you talk to me, you listen to me, you fix things for me, you are good to your friends, they way you always hold my hand, your kisses make me melt, you look sexy in jeans, you wear the clothes I get you, you love to try new things, you pull me out of my shell, you make me try harder, you help me do new things, you support the things I want to do, you play games with me, you are patient with me, you would eat peanut butter sandwiches every night, you walk over dirty floors without caring, you are always proud of me and because you always walk beside me.

Who are we supposed to believe?

2009-03-05T14:54:00.004-06:00

I made the decision not to have the kitties declawed...still debating that one with myself every time I hear their claws ripping into my furniture and every time I feel their claws sinking into my tender skin. However, we do live in the country with a lot of trees (and one big grey camouflaged cat living in one of those trees...just discovered him this weekend) and raccoons and squirrels and other critters. I wanted my kitties to have a "fighting" chance (and, honestly, to rid our yard of a few nasty inhabitants) going outside and it just seemed kind of cruel to send them out without their daggers intact. Unfortunately they are still attacking the furniture...and my legs. The vet says they should out grow this (sure, she doesn't have to live with the ramifications until they do) and that I should get or make them a scratching post. Well enough, but how do I get them to use it? Simple...get some catnip spray and saturate scratching post and they will be attracted to that (instead of fabric and skin). Boy are they ever! Unfortunately, the spray did not come with the warning, "Most cats enjoy cat nip and will roll around the floor in a hazy stupor for an hour after smelling/ingesting. However, for some unlucky and unsuspecting cat owners, their cats will be very attracted to the spray to the point that they will viciously attack anything or anybody that comes within 10 feet of them while they are wrestling with saturated scratching post, including each other. They will act demented and scare the crap out of their owners who may run screaming form the house in fear that their cat's soul has been taken over by the exorcist. Said cat will cling to post, snarl, screech and generally act crazy for about an hour...and then will stand at post acting all peaceful while silently begging for more." Perhaps I should return it...the spray, not the cat.

Some times you gotta take it back a step.

2009-03-04T14:00:00.004-06:00

We are all so immersed in the "age of technology" that we forget some of the great old fashioned ideas. Today in the mail I received not one, but nine thank you cards...the real mail, other wise known as...snail mail. They were all homemade and hand written. Anyone can send an email-30 seconds of typing, hit send, sit back and you're done. It takes some time to get out your stationary (if you're anything like me, I'm sure you have some stuck in a drawer some where), address the envelope, find a stamp, hand write the letter and then hike to the mail box. I may have an old soul, but when I got to the mailbox today the envelopes waiting inside sure put a smile on my face. We are all crazy busy and email is a life saver on some days, but don't forget to make that extra effort every once in a while and see how many smiles you can spread.

Don't Panic.

2009-03-02T15:23:00.003-06:00

Yes this is still the Disgruntled Princess...just going through a few growing pains. I have taken on a bunch of marketing projects and realized that I am not going to get far without learning some html code. My brain works a lot like the "If you give a mouse a ..." books, so when I started looking at html, I started digging around in my blog...changed a few things on the Wild Ones blog, bought a book, changed a few more things, created some things...and well I decided I needed a new look for this blog-a canvas I can "play" with. Stick with me and see what happens...no promises (yet) and no threats.

One Year Ago Today.

2009-02-27T06:43:00.010-06:00

I am not much for anniversaries...now celebrating on the other hand, I wouldn't turn that down. I think this blog and I are what some people refer to as a "match made in heaven". I get to write to my hearts conntent, doesn't matter what I write...no one tells me what to do or how to do it, I can add to it when I want...the blog happily exists even if I abandon it for a few days, it doesn't get lonely or needy, it supports me (spell check and all it's handy little features) and it even allows others to join the fun. Really what more could I ask for...except for one of these.

Red Faced...Again.

2009-02-26T14:17:00.005-06:00

Nope, I have no idea who this is. Yep, looking at him puts a little skip in my step. Where did I find this picture you might ask? He showed up in my email one day and I just couldn't make myself delete him...so I kept a file open for him. Then one day I was wondering around the kitchen when I heard the Wild One's scream, "Woooo Mom...who's on your computer?" Evidently the Big Guy thought it would be funny to paste him onto my desk top. And of course I did think it was funny...and I kind of, accidently left him there (can you blame me).

Fast forward to my trip to the library today...thought I'd get some work done away from the distractions of laundry, cleaning, ringing phones and crazy a*# cats. I lugged all my bags (drinks, snacks, books, note pads, puzzle books...so much for distractions) into the study area, unpacked everything and got ready to rock and roll. The problem was that the library router was bound and determined not to let me in. I tried everything I could think of (with my limited knowledge of the internal workings of my computer), I made phone calls and even interrupted fellow patrons. I finally went to the help desk to see if they had any ideas. They sent me an older gentleman (probably about 65, dressed the part complete with pocket protector). Among the things we tried was rebooting my computer. I was desperate at this point and was not thinking what that would include. So standing right in the middle of the library with my lap top wide open...up pops my sexy friend. I could feel the redness cropping up my neck and I am sure I was stammering as I tried to tell him that my husband had put that picture there as a joke. Well, he misunderstood and commented on how nice it must be to see my husband all day long. I set him straight (I should have left well enough alone) and quickly tried to open something to cover him up. We continued working on the problem to no avail (I guess I will have to find new free office space). As I was thanking him for his time and getting ready to shut down my computer...sexy man appeared again. Just before my library friend turned to walk away, he gave one last look at the computer screen and said, "I think I'm gonna miss that man." That is exactly what I needed...I guess my new friend (the sexy one) is here to stay.

Arrgggghhhh!

2009-02-25T12:17:00.003-06:00

What do you call work when you don't get paid, it's not volunteering, it's not for fun and it's not for recognition? Add in that your boss is demanding, impatient and has no concept of what or how much he is asking of you. I am not sure there is a proper name for what I am doing, but I am sure there are plenty of names for me...gullible, sucker, foolish, credulous, deficient, obtuse, ludicrous...wife?

I Nominate...Myself.

2009-02-24T08:27:00.003-06:00

I know the Academy Awards are over...at least the ones in Hollywood...the gowns are picked up off the floor, the jewels returned and day two of recovery from the after parties is feeling pretty good. But up Nord, here in Minnesooota we have this thing called the Academy Awards of Literature (timed to...somewhat...match up with the Hollywood variety), after all it's a bit too cold to be frolicking around in strapless gowns and too slick for four inch heels...and I don't think JB Hudsons has many multi-million dollar diamond pieces lounging around in their stock room.

The students spend many cold hours snuggled up reading and then make their nominations. My middle Wild One is quite the reader...and quite the schmoozer, negotiator, (ahem) manipulator so when he came to me with a book that I wasn't quite sure of I told him to check with the Big Guy. Now I know that the Big Guy had not read the book, but I was quite sure he had seen the movie...you see it was certainly an adult book-written by an adult, for adults, with an adult theme-not to be confused with a book suitable for a 9 year old. BUT, knowing how advanced a reader this child is and his fascination with action, mystery, suspense and thrill he was allowed to read this book (prior to the whole Academy thing)...based on the concept of the book, not the thorough investigation of such actual book (and the dialogue and passages contained within the covers) by either one of his superstar parents.

Along came the school event and the Wild One chose this book in the category of "Best Picture." The tri-fold poster was being transformed into a colorful tribute to the book and characters. The Wild One wrote explanations...careful to include passages and quotes from the book (the Big Guy was in charge of overseeing the initial writing...leaving the editing advise to me) and plastered them on the board inside of homemade books and a carefully created Hum V. He also made a black box detonator, a colorful drawing of a nuclear bomb and an airplane sculpted from legos...which was hung on a shelf under the title of the book.

As he was assembling the last remnants of the project I took a peek over his shoulder. I got a little wave of vertigo as I realized what I was looking at. A poster depicting a book based on stolen nuclear bombs and the competition between the bad guy trying to sell them before getting caught and the good guy recovering them before they were detonated. If that was not bad enough, I read one of the passages the Big Guy had OK'd...something about the bullets whizzing past and lodging in someone's skull (are you beginning to understand the vertigo?). Yes, I knew the concept of the book. No, I didn't stop to think of the impact of bringing this poster to school to hang for all (5-11 year olds) to see. No, I never looked at the passages in the book, but I discussed the book with the Wild One each day as he read it to answer any questions and talk about the concepts in the book. What I didn't do was open the book and look at the language used (holy sh#*!) or think clearly about the appropriateness of this book for a school project. The Wild One wasn't fazed by the book, "What? I hear that stuff all the time." The books he loves are filled with suspense and battles...just usually fought by make believe animals...and written with an intended audience of children.

I made the Wild One rewrite the passages to include character development, moments of suspense and vivid imagery...without guns, blood or naughty language (that went over well for someone who had spent hours creating his master piece). So you see when I say, "I nominate myself," I am clearly referring to the "Mother of the Year" award.

OMG, I'm rich.

2009-02-23T08:57:00.002-06:00

I just read an article about the value of volunteering. In Minnesota, 2006 the hourly wage value of a volunteer hour was $19.46. Since it increases about 50 cents per hour, per year (remind me to negotiate a better raise next year), the value this year should be about $22.00 per hour. Not bad for doing the things you like and that you know make a difference. I wonder if I have kept track of all my volunteer hours since 1992...when I started volunteering with regularity. I know that I spend at least 5 hours a week now (sometimes it feels like a full time job)...so if I saved that money...that would be a lot of trips to Caribou and maybe even a trip to Disney each year. Now I just need to figure out where I pick up the check.

Telepathy.

2009-02-20T07:24:00.002-06:00

I have been trying something new. Instead of telling my family nicely (OK sometimes...like the fifth time...not so nicely) what I'd like them to do, I have just started thinking it. Actually, I aim the thought at them like a ray from a Star Wars ship...maybe if I knew more about the rays or even what the ships are called my powers would be greater. I wonder if they have even noticed my "Stepford Wife" stare while I am doing this...or if they just think to themselves, "Oh mom's having another one of those moments...better steer clear." But, just this morning the wee Wild Ones picked up their dirty jammies and put their dishes in the dishwasher. Even the Big Guy is beginning to sway. As I was zipping my coat and pulling on my mittens, he offered to take the garbage down (no matter that he was still in his robe and I was already dressed like an Eskimo). I think I may be onto something.

No More Babies.

2009-02-19T07:15:00.004-06:00

The talk around our house lately has revolved around the kitties surgery...better known as "Jasper getting his balls cut off" when the Wild Ones are talking about it (I swear I never said any such thing, I'm pretty sure that the Big Guy didn't phrase it that way...but when you have young boys they seem fascinated with these types of words and are very creative in sliding them into conversation...and then running before they get caught). There is also much discussion about the fact that they (the kitties...not the Wild Ones) are now unable to have babies...and why the Big Guy and I would ever subject them to such a horror. No explanation is satisfactory and I am at the end of my creative abilities to have this discussion for three different levels of intellect...and maturity...all at the same time. My maturity level has plummeted...I can't stop the giggles and I think I shot a little water out my nose last night. When will I perfect the art of control...the perfect back turned, silent laugh, biting the inside of my cheek and holding back tears, the stern look at the inappropriate (but hilarious) comments? Hopefully not until the Wild Ones are grown and have to deal with their own kids...perhaps not even then.

Did You Get the Warning?

2009-02-18T07:24:00.003-06:00

People warn you not to feed your dog "people food," but they don't usually explain why. Which is part of the reason it doesn't seem so bad to do. We have always given the Rotten Dog a few scraps and treats here and there (mostly carbs and proteins in his dog bowl...never from the table and never from a "people plate") kind of hard not to when he looks at us with those big dark eyes. So the other day when there was a small dish of pasta left on the table after dinner...naturally I scraped it into the dog bowl. Within an hour I was cursing those people who never told me why. The smell emanating from the back end of that dog (not to mention the noise, which was comical until the Wild Ones started insisting it was me) was worse than day old vomit (you know the kind you find on a blanket that the Big Guy missed in the middle of the night when cleaning up after a sick Wild One). I tried to get away, but Rotten very quietly placed himself under my feet every time I moved and I didn't notice him...until I nearly passed out from the invisible gas permeating my nostrils. When I came to, I pledged to change the "warning" to include an explanation...and a clothes pin for your nose.

Drivers Beware.

2009-02-17T10:27:00.003-06:00

This is a message to the idiot...I mean driver...behind me on the highway this morning. I was cruising along the bypass with two kitties in the front seat trying to impersonate Houdini, minding my own business with a smile on my face...hey it was 7:30, the sun was shining and I was feeling free. Then I noticed the black Accura that looked as if it was going to go right over the top of my dirty little Nissan (hey if it didn't hurt me...or the kitties...I'd be all for it...might get a shiny new Accura out of the deal). We were on a one lane (two if you count the cars coming at us) highway with a speed limit of 60...I was going 65. There was a constant steam of cars passing in the other direction and a solid line of cars in front of me for as far as I could see. Mr. Black Accura seemed to think that if he rode my a** he would get to work (or Caribou) 15 minutes early...as if I was the only obstacle to his promptness. Just to spite him, I turned up the radio and started singing (and dancing) as loud as I could...thought my cheeriness might add to his frustration. As soon as the road opened into several lanes, Mr. Black Accura pulled to my left and over took me (well...actually my Nissan, but I gave him my best smile as he cruised past) and pulled right in front of me...and then immediately slammed on his brakes so as not to hit the car directly in front of me...now him. Perhaps he was so enthralled with my song and dance show that he did not see the looong line of cars holding ME up. I slowed to give him some space and hoped that I'd still get to my appointment on time...and that he'd get to his alive.

Where Does the Time Go?

2009-02-16T20:54:00.003-06:00

Really...I have been sitting at my computer (which isn't even pink anymore) since 9 o'clock this morning-that's 12 hours my friends. Well, I have made waffles (from scratch with homemade whipped cream) for 6, lunch for 5 and dinner for 3...and did all the clean up since I don't usually make the friends do dishes, done several loads of laundry, driven a little car pooling (which involved a little chatting...the kind where the kids run off and start playing cuz they know it's going to be a while), written a few (by hand) thank you notes, medicated a few owies, fielded calls from my mother and the Big Guy's mother, got the mail (from the end of the looong icy driveway) and played "Yes I adore you and miss you" texting games with the Big Guy...Oh, I guess that's where all the time went.

200 Posts...200 pieces of TMI...in no particular order.

2009-02-13T11:01:00.005-06:00

1. Pink, anything pink. 2. Four adorable, intelligent, witty Wild Ones. 3. One pain in the ass, but can't live without, Big Guy. 4. Best Friends. 5. Cold Toes. 6. Sleeping with fans (the blowing kind...ELECTRICAL). 7. Blogging. 8. Fuzzy Blankets. 9. Stepping on Legos. 10. Immune to rolling eyes. 11. Ghosts and monsters. 12. Laughter. 13. Love...sweet love. 14. Running (not necessarily away from things). 15. Learning. 16. ADD. 17. Roller coasters. 18. Chipotle. 19. Jammies. 20. Big black Rotten Ruger. 21. The Grouchy Dog. 22. Lollypop. 23. Believe. 24. Extra sharp white cheddar. 25. Volunteering. 26. Writing. 27. Funny. 28. Addictions. 29. Flirting. 30. Rock star. 31. Bloody ankles. 32. Talk radio. 33. Touch sensitive. 34. Clumsy. 35. Books, books, books. 36. Piles. 37. Confident. 38. Creative cook. 39. Computer savvy wanna be. 40. Tattoos. 41. Dancing. 42. Local bars. 43. Concerts. 44. Chocolate. 45. MN state fair. 46. Rutledge cabin. 47. Afternoons on the boat (with or with out the Wild Ones). 48. Carillon Beach. 49. Diamonds. 50. Guacamole. 51. Sunshine. 52. White sand between my toes. 53. Daisies. 54. Nieces and Nephews. 55. Happy hour. 56. Jasper and Darby. 57. Mascara. 58. More give...less take. 59. =/- 20 pounds. 60. Philosophy. 61. Debating with Papa Elf. 62. Oliver's gardens. 63. Creation. 64. Seafood. 65. Canoeing on the river. 66. Skiing (in the mountains). 67. T-shirt design. 68. Soups. 69. Rice crispy bars (or cakes). 70. Caffeine free diet pepsi. 71. Reader's Digest. 72. Photography. 73. Playing games. 74. Gemini. 75. Wild flowers. 76. Candy making. 77. Grammer and Great. 78. Venice. 79. The smell of spring. 80. City girl. 81. Photography. 82. Thrift shops. 83. Caribou (the hot frothy kind). 84. Math speed champ (1970's). 85. Insomniac. 86. Medium point blue pens. 87. Doodling. 88. Right handed. 89. Aberdeen. 90. Ambidextrous brain. 91. The smell of babies (freshly washed and lotioned). 92. Making out with the big guy. 93. Geek attractor (better than carnies). 94. Social geek...can't initiate friendship. 95. Impatient. 96. Impulsive. 97. Miss Listy List. 98. People watching. 99. Singing at the top of my lungs...and way out of tune. 100. Dancing in the kitchen. 101. Light and noise sensitive. 102. Christmas music. 103. Hiking. 104. Sleeping naked. 105. Guitars. 106. Harleys (my guys and the bikes). 107. Codependent. 108. Gay rights. 109. Hoar frost. 110. Skky Orange. 111. The number 11. 112. Liberal conservative. 113. Introvert. 114. Can't hold a thought. 115. Getting dirty. 116. Hard work. 117. Dork with a keyboard. 118. Bad poker face. 119. Wild One football games. 120. Education. 121. Coca-Cola cherry zero. 122. Water slides. 123. Screaming at soccer games. 124. Intuitive. 125. Run on routines (but don't always stick to them). 126. Talking, talking, talking. 127. Fiercely independent. 128. Daydreamer. 129. Dancing on tables...wearing cowboy boots. 130. Hats and Halter Tops. 140. Jack of all trades...master of some. 141. Never been a "popular kid". 142. Must cross my legs when I sneeze. 143. Twilight. 144. Grateful. 145. Yellow butterflies. 146. Drinking soda room temperature. 147. Flip flops. 148. Analytical. 149. Cynical. 150. Outspoken. 151. Girl crushes. 152. Sporty dads. 153. Curiosity. 154. Jeans, fitted t-shirts and sexy 3 inch heels. 155. One of the guys. 156. Anything but green thumbs. 157. Simple life. 158. Moody. 159. Internal wallflower. 160. Proud mommy. 161. Comedies. 162. A smattering of curly chest hair (not on me). 163. Kitties. 164. Rugged, but smart. 165. Hot tea...iced tea. 166. Crazy. 167. Bad speller. 168. Texting. 169. Loving. 170. Being loved. 171. Married first lover(married him...not had a married lover). 172. Speak my own language. 173. Social phobe. 174. Sunflower seeds. 175. Road trips. 176. Commando. 177. Children's books. 178. Looking forward to heaven. 179. Artwork created and words written by the Wild Ones. 180. Secrets. 181. Spicy food. 182. Shoes, coats and purses. 183. Nicknamer. 184. Therapy. 185. Obsessive. 186. Trees with no leaves. 187. Strong. 188. Snarkiness. 189. Fudgy brownies. 190. Walking barefoot. 191. Singalongable music. 192. Natural silence. 193. Everyone has a story. 194. Yearning for a neighborhood. 195. Opinionated. 196. Internet junkie. 197. Sociology. 198. Late bloomer 199. Up for anything 200. Shenanigans, shenanigans and more shenanigans!

Twelve Year Old Girls...and One Boy.

2009-02-13T09:00:00.004-06:00

It wasn't as bad as I expected...a 40 minute bus ride (two times) and 4 1/2 hours running wild through the Nickelodean with 200 6th graders...of course I was only directly responsible for 10 of them. They were excited, respectful and responsible (a vast improvement from last years 5th grade field trip which took a bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of vodka to recover from). In the excitement, I noticed something about the majority of the girls...they bounce around from place to place on the balls of their feet...usually with at least one other girl clinging to their elbow, looking like she is being drug along for the ride. Then when they get close to you (or any other adult that may respond to them) they get way up on their toes and right in your face and start a non-stop, jiggling monologue,"OMGdidyouseethat?Didyouridethat?ShouldIgothat?Didyougoonthat?Isitscary?Iwannadothat.Wouldyougoonthat?OMGthisissgreat.Iamgoingtodoit?Areyougoingtodoit?" And before you can even focus and figure out which girl is in your face (or if it was the one boy in my group that was just as giddy as the girls)...she is already bouncing off to attach herself to the next available 12 year old. Every time it happened I would just go back to counting...my ten kids...and minutes left before it was time to leave.

Double Digits.

2009-02-11T07:23:00.004-06:00

Wild Ones up extrememly early? Check

First surprise given? Check

Movie and dinner plans made for after school? Check

Lego's wrapped? Check

Home made ice cream cake made (yesterday's last minute request)? Check

Nerfs ordered (fingers crossed FedEx man can make it up the icy driveway today)? Check

Friends party planned? Oh Crap

It is almost official...9 am to be exact...that the Boo, Boodle, Egg, Hen, Boo Boo Boy leaves the single digits behind. For a boy who would rather be at home (with friends) than any where else...we have a fun filled, but very packed day today (hope there is a little time left for homework...maybe Mr. A will give the little dude a pass). Art Institute, special lunch at school, The Pink Panther 2, dinner delivered in (of course) and the best part...family time...I mean presents. Actually the medium Wild One loves gifts as much as the rest of us, but family time might top his list of things to do. He often includes items on his birthday list that he can share with the family...such as the Oakland Raiders Nerf football that he wants cuz the Big Guy loves to play catch (and coach the little dudes team) and had a friend that played for Oakland...a loooong time ago! Time to lick the frosting off my fingers, heft the gifts up from the basement and (load myself up with drugs) psych myself up for a busload of 4th graders. Happy Happy day Boodle!

It's My Turn.

2009-02-10T07:25:00.005-06:00

I'd like to thank the academy...I mean the Wild Ones. Actually I take full credit myself. I have been inundated with vomit, sneezes, coughing, sore throats and germ filled kisses and it never once crossed my mind to pop a million Immuniboost pills. I talk about them, I warn others, I swear by them, but this time I just plain forgot. My consequences...sore neck, droopy eyes, aching head and sneezes that threaten the stability of the old oak in the back yard. What I need is a few days of rest...what I get are two days on big orange school buses surrounded by screaming 4th and 6th graders and the responsibility of guiding the 4th graders through the Minneapolis Art Institute and herding 11 hormone filled 6th graders at the Mall of America theme park...under the ruse of a science field trip. Maybe the horror filled roller coaster will clear some of the phlegm from my lungs. As they say...we reap what we sow.

OH GOODY...another one just threw up...coffee anyone?? Calgone??

All Things Red.

2009-02-09T14:14:00.002-06:00

As you may have noticed, Red is not my color (I think it may be a good color for me to wear, but you'll probably never get the chance to see it for yourself...I just can't do it). Now pink on the other hand...is always somewhere near me: shirts, coats, phone, notebooks, computer...you name it (if I don't have it...it's only a matter of time). So when Valentines week rolls around I try my best, but I just cannot pick up the red card, the red flowers and you will never see me at a Valentines party dressed in a red shirt (perhaps a white one with a very subtle pink heart tucked away somewhere) with red, plastic coated hoop earrings. So while it is only Monday and we have 5 days to go until V-day, I am all rojo, rouge, kokino, roseus, rot, rosso-ed out. I think I will bury myself in home work until Sunday when I can pretend that spring is right around the corner...and all the jeweled colors that come with it.

The Weather Outside is Frightful.

2009-02-06T07:39:00.002-06:00

A friend sent an email yesterday of Jeff Foxworthy jokes..."You know you live in Minnesota if..." type statements. The funniest one was, "You know you live in Minnesota if you always carry jumper cables in your car...and your girlfriend know how to use them." But the one that hit home this morning (and reminded me of my crazy neighbor and running buddy who challenged the middle Wild One to a contest to see who could wear shorts the longest...I think they tied somewhere around the beginning of November) was,"You know you live in Minnesota if you have worn shorts and a parka...at the same time." I was up most of the night last night, so I was feeling pretty good when I got the tall Wild One up and out of the house...on time. It wasn't until she got out of the car and walked toward the bus that I fully understood what she was wearing. Pretty much shorts and a parka (it was of the vest variety...fits better in the small lockers...but it did have a fur lined hood). I felt a little better when I remembered that it is "Spirit Week" and today is slated for wearing school colors...she decided on her soccer uniform, shorts and all. Oh well, she probably won't be the only one...I hope.

Let's Talk Economy.

2009-02-05T12:35:00.004-06:00

I know people are hurting, businesses are hurting...our country is hurting. I want it to be known that I am doing my part to make things better. I do not work...that leaves one more job open for someone else...and I spend money. Not just on things I need to survive like food and gas for my car (you know to get the Wild Ones to the doctor and such...cough...caribou), but on things like a new floral tea pot and a scarf to perk me up. I have a hundred dollar bill in my purse for such...emergencies. The problem is that no one will take a hundred dollar bill. I'm not kidding, I have had this same Ben Franklin in my purse for months. Every time I find a little something to kick start the economy I fish it out, hand it over and am either asked, "Do you have something smaller?" or, "I'm sorry I don't have change for that." If businesses are hurting so badly for business, why won't they take my money? A girl can only do so much...of course all I have to do is whip out the plastic and put my friend away...see that is how I save money and stimulate the economy...all at the same time.

Too much time on my hands.

2009-02-04T08:28:00.002-06:00

Another month, another birthday. I am legoed out and nerfed out. In my never ending quest to be "Mother of the Year" I thought I would throw a few surprises into the mix of blasters and mini figures. I have a great catalog of "brainy toys for kids of all ages" (MindWare...located right here in Minnesota...go figure) so I started looking for things that would be of interest to a very intelligent...if I do say so myself...soon to be 10 year old. As I added several things to my cart, my adrenaline began pumping and I soon lost control...my total was well into the multiple three figures. I looked back through my list and realized the things I was buying were really geared toward...me. But hey if I get these things and sit down and do them with the 10 year old...a few points toward MOTY?? Maybe I should stick with the legos and nerf games if I want to see smiles on the birthday boy's face. But just so you know...I accidently clicked "confirm purchase" on the web site...so I don't know about the Wild Ones, but I know what I will be doing for the next few months...or at least looking at every time I walk by the game room.

I Guess it's about Time.

2009-02-03T08:40:00.003-06:00

I have a lot of old stories up my sleeve, but I have to be careful who is in the stories and what they will do to me if I "tell all" here where anyone from Norway to Zimbabwe can read it (not that it really matters when these people will never set eyes on any one of you...you know the ones in my stories). My wee Wild One wanted me to blog about our "nother Christmas" that we finally had this weekend with my side of the family. Not much to tell...a little seafood chowder, dilly bread and a few gifts...oh yeah and the games. We sat around the dining room table trying to play a new game...and people just weren't getting the rules...especially the Big Guy's mom (yes it was my family, but we invite her to keep her busy...and as a little extra entertainment for us). In the game each person had to describe something of theirs without letting the "guesser" know what it was (there is a central category as in "car" and each person gives clues..."mine is dirty"...and the guesser puts it all together and guesses "car"). Well my MIL (mother-in-law for those of you who have forgotten) was having a terrible time with the whole concept, but the funny part was that she couldn't figure out what people were saying...like "Mine is square" would come across to her as "minus square" and she would start going on about how the answer must be mathematical because "if you minus the square of something then it must be a big number otherwise it would be a negative number, but that could be something outside because it's so cold out there, but maybe it's a jacket because then you would stay warm..." Now this is where the old story comes in. At another family function we were all playing a game that started out with the person reading a card that had words like "minus" and you had to figure out that it was really supposed to be "mine is". So my baby cousin (the 34B Cup) was reading a card that said something like, "True man cup hold he." Ok if you listen to yourself read this out loud I am pretty sure you will hear Truman Capote...and to win that point you must know what you are saying. So 34B said, "Truman Capote" over and over and over and we were all screaming, "Yes!" but she couldn't hear what she was saying...she was still saying, "True man cup hold he." Come to find out she had no idea who Truman Capote was or that there even was such a person. She obviously didn't gain any points, but we gained a family joke that gets repeated over and over and over...even when she is no where in sight. So 34B, thanks for the laughs Saturday night...I think this one is stuck with you forever.

Wishy Washy.

2009-02-02T07:18:00.002-06:00

I know everybody was excited for the Superbowl and people plan their day, weekend and vacations around the big day, but I just wasn't into it this year...until the game started. The plan was to hop on the snowmobiles (the Big Guy with the number one Wild One and me sandwiched between the other two Wild Ones...now that is a whole other story) and head down the luce line to the Ox Yolk Inn...not much of a sports bar...but we were not overly crazy about the game (between the 5 of us not one of "our teams" was playing). Well we got across the first field without dumping anyone, but soon saw smoke from one of the machines...time to go home and reassess. By a vote of 4-1 we ended up driving to the bar and getting a front row seat just as the game was starting. Dinner was good, but we had to get home for last minute homework and Monday morning preparations...so off we went. I was excited that Pittsburgh was winning...afterall I don't really like red and those Pennsylvania boys looked awfully cute in their tight yellow bloomers, but as we caught bits and pieces of the game at home I became sucked in and wanted to root for the underdog. I am a sucker that way. But in the end I knew I had chosen right (even if not for the right reasons). It would be a good day to be waking up in Pennsylvania to cheer on all the cute, young boys dressed in yellow...the only damper was Phil seeing his shadow.

Baked or Fried?

2009-01-27T07:41:00.003-06:00

I was at a visitation last night for the boy half of our BFF's mother. I took the Wild Ones because they wanted to give Auntie and Uncle BFF a hug. Well, they found the cousins and the family room...and the candy and the chips (can't blame them since we didn't end up having dinner until 8:45). So as we were getting ready to leave I made a comment about the chips to the BFF's and my crazy sister and her husband...I was a tiny bit embarrassed that my kids had dug into the family supplies...although it did keep the BFF's daughter happy. I know...get to the point. The boy BFF starts telling us that he can't believe how greasy his hands are from eating these chips, that he is used to eating baked Lays at work. And in a really loud voice (in the middle of the room where the visitation for his Baptist mother is being held) he says, "I haven't had a regular lay in a long time." Everyone's eyes got big and I did one of those eye watering silent laughs along with the BFF and my sister all while the boy BFF tried to back peddle and then gave up and tried to blame all of us for having dirty minds. Whatever!! It was exactly what I needed after 8 days of vomiting kids, 6 days at home alone with the Wild Ones (and all their assorted friends) and a phone call from the Big Guy telling me that he was stranded in Aspen due to a cancelled flight (poor guy).

Benefit Schmenefit.

2009-01-26T11:45:00.002-06:00

Whose benefits when the school district plans their calander to include as many 3 and 4 day weekends as possible? Not the teachers, cuz they still have to work many of those Fridays and Mondays...not the working parents cuz they have to find child care for those extra days...not the teachers (again) cuz they have to squeeze the same amount of work into less days AND regroup the kids after each extended weekend. I guess it works for the kids...more days to stay up late, sleep in and put off their homework. I know many families who take advantage of mini vacations and short lines at kid friendly attractions (our district has more days off than any other I know), but what I love most is a house full of laughter and smiles. Last night I tucked in Wild Ones and friends on the futon, the floor and the couches and awoke to giggles and calls for pancakes. The phone calls started early and the number of kids has doubled. There is sledding, fort building (inside and out), games and fresh cookies from the oven. Much better than the museum and besides I don't have a car big enough to haul them anywhere!

No Pictures Today.

2009-01-22T07:07:00.004-06:00

It's like the unwanted guest that won't ever leave. Just when you think it's over...here it comes again. I'm talking about a virus, a nasty virus that takes you down hard...in the middle of the night no less. The Wee Wild One is down and out and I the ever encouraging, loving mother kept promising him that he would be better by bed time...yesterday...after all, the worst of it only kept the giant Wild One down for about 15 hours. Not so with Wee...after 18 hours of misery he passed out at 9:30 (in my bed so I could keep an eye on him and hopefully catch a few winks myself) and I thought we were home safe. You know what they say about assuming. Let's just say we got so good at the bucket grab, the mouth swish, the face wash and the bucket scrub that by 4:30...yes am...we were doing it without even turning the lights on. Hey if you have to do something you might as well do it right.

I knew I had Rocker in me.

2009-01-21T10:08:00.003-06:00

Some one has to teach me...and it won't be the Big Guy...he lives for my wild side. Things to include in your speech to "Me": school nights are not meant for concerts, rock concerts will make your ears ring for days, unplanned bar hopping by limo with 7 men after said concert could be...should be...scary and late night stops for food can leave stains on your clothes (and are tough to find on a Monday night). While you're at it, remind "Me" to drink more water, only sing when you actually know the words and dance like other Orono moms can see you (cuz there were a few within our 40 year old limited vision). Take your time gathering your thoughts and writing the info you want to teach...I mean share. I'll just be in line...waiting for more tickets.

Obama Mama.

2009-01-20T14:30:00.002-06:00

I feel energized today (well, mentally at least...physically I am a little slow after the AC/DC concert last night). Do you have to be old, be a parent or just a concerned citizen to be totally psyched by the inauguration of a new President (an African American no less)? I waffle between shrieks of glee and tears of hope.

My claim to fame is not poetry (actually not really sure I have one at all), but since each new president chooses a poet to read an original work created for him (someday I will look back and insert a "her" here) I thought I'd have a little fun and create something myself. I will steal the type of poem (see a real poet would know the correct name) from the Wild Ones. Here goes:

H.O.P.E.

H is for (what else) hope. I hope that the world is reenergized, encouraged and enlightened by our new leader. If we don't hope it, we can't make it happen and we cannot live it. Hope that our children will live each day better than the last. Hope that we show them by example. Hope that we come together and build a better, brighter future.

O is for opportunities. Opportunities for a black man to rule our country. Opportunities for our daughters to to walk paths that we could not walk. Opportunities for our children to learn from our and their mistakes, to create things that we don't know yet exist. Opportunities of peace.

P is for power. Power to make dreams come true. Power to fight for what is right. Power to make ourselves happy. Power to make a difference. Power to be our best. Power to forgive.

E is for empathy. Empathy not just in understanding other's situations, but enough empathy to do something about it. Empathy to learn about others and to use that knowledge to change and to educate. Empathy to see through another's eyes, to hold someone's hand...to truly care for all humans.

I H.O.P.E. that we all will make a difference.

Go Ahead...Make a Difference Today.

2009-01-19T12:36:00.004-06:00

"An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity." MLK Jr.

Big "Happy Birthday" to Martin Luther King, Jr. A bit belated according to the Wee Wild One who wanted to go to school today...he didn't understand why he shouldn't go since they celebrated on Thursday...you know...MLK's actual birthday. I am so with him...celebrate at school and don't skip a day...I hope I don't have to make a cake. I am not a baker, perhaps I could make a nice chili or pasta dish.

OK that is not the point...I know. I will spend time today (as I do on many other occasions) with the Wild Ones talking about human rights. It is a hard concept for them to understand at this time in their lives. They don't live in a time or area where they see problems of the magnitude that MLK was addressing. The best I can do is show them examples in their own little home (don't freak, we also talk about the civil rights movement, the constitution and how to help others in need). For example, it is a right for everyone in our family to have a warm place to sleep, food in the fridge and lots of hugs and kisses. In other families these things don't happen and that is wrong. If we don't see it happen or are not affected by it, does that mean we should ignore it, take our life for granted and feel lucky? Or should we come together as a family, a community and a country and fight for the rights of these children? We have started small...working within our community on these issues (we have not figured out how to tackle them all) and hope that we can make a difference.

Perhaps some of these issues could be construed as privlages, but in our house they are a right...privlages come with responsibility and age...like eating ice cream on the couch when the Wild Ones have all gone to bed.

My Favorite Things.

2009-01-15T15:44:00.002-06:00

At the risk of being asked to leave the state of Minnesota, I really don't get all the hullabaloo regarding the weather. We choose to live in Minnesota, we know Minnesota gets cold...bitter cold...and yet everybody is acts like a Cranky Charlie the minute the mercury heads south. The temperature drops, people hole up inside and talk of nothing else. Well I happen not to have a problem with it...I even took a walk outside today and if that doesn't invigorate (despite the brain freeze and frozen nostril hairs) the most sluggish bore than they deserve to hole up inside and whine (as long as they are out of ear shot of me). Perhaps these people need to invest in a few of my favorite things (like this and these and stand by this)...and if not...I hear there are buses and plains that actually carry people to the south.

Pushing the Limits.

2009-01-14T11:00:00.003-06:00

I totally believe in the rights of free speech, but I also believe in a "place and time" for everything. Let's just assume this sign is real...looks pretty good to my untrained eyes. Did some government worker create this and hang it, was he/she appointed to do it as part of their job, are they still employed, isn't he technically their boss? As a good upstanding citizen and considering the respect that Bush deserves (cough, cough) I would have at least waited until the 20th.

Black Ice.

2009-01-13T07:50:00.003-06:00

If you live in Minnesota, the term Black Ice needs no defining...but will perhaps leave you cringing. The invisible layer of frozen water through which the black asphalt can be seen, but may seem invisible or just look like a patch of wet road. Believe it or not is is so cold here right now that the exhaust from the cars is freezing on the roads before it can evaporate. Makes for very dangerous driving due to people from out of town (places south of this winter wonderland) and for those (*@$&!) Minnesotans that have memory loss of last winters driving techniques (perhaps due to brain frostbite). That is why it will take me an extra 45 minutes to get to my appointment this morning (thank God it's with my therapist!) and why I took an unfortunate tumble...and wish my appointment was with a chiropractor. We were down to one car last week and I had an appointment and some errands to run. The Big Guy so graciously (he loves my payback) offered to drop me off...although he forgot to mention that his appointment for that morning was 45 minutes in the other direction. What's a Minnesota girl living in the suburbs (read: no convenient busing and miles of separation between EVERYTHING) to do? I packed my fuzzy hat and mittens and donned my fleece lined Merrells and started hoofin' it. About 2 miles into my trip, I attempted to cross a street...hit a patch of black ice and went "ass over tea kettle" right behind a little white car. I jumped up about as fast as I went down and kept on walking...checking my peripheral vision for any one brave enough to laugh out loud. As soon as I got a safe distance away I began to check for damage. My bag, coat and jeans were a little muddy and I felt the beginnings of the bruises, but felt lucky that no teeth were cracked from the snapping of my jaw. The Big Guy called to say his appointment was really later in the day and he would pick me up in a couple of minutes. He got to me a block before my destination...just as the headache and muscle soreness were setting in. That is when I redefined the term Black Ice...the shroud of ice that covers one who is in no condition to be friendly to others...especially those laughing at personal current events.

I Always Ask for Honesty.

2009-01-09T07:48:00.004-06:00

The Wee Wild One was acting more crazy than usual at bedtime last night and I was at my limits with him. I gave him choices, took away privileges and finally just stopped talking. When he was finally snuggled in...and looking so adorable I just wanted to squeeze him...I laid down next to him and this is the conversations we had:

DP: I am not very happy about the behavior you had before bedtime.

WWO: Wow the Darby's fur is really soft tonight.

DP: Why are you ingnoring me?

WWO: Well, I just thought I'd change the subject.

Be careful what you wish for...and learn to hide your face before you laugh.

A Perfect Pair.

2009-01-08T07:25:00.004-06:00

I don't know if it was the lack of sleep or being locked in the frigid garage for hours with Papa Elf (on New Years Eve), but I had the most amazing dream that night. Let it be know that Papa Elf is the Big Guy's number one fan and takes great pains in making sure I know it. This all comes at a time when I have been eyebrow deep in grease trying to make sure that all the "gears" in my life are properly oiled and tuned. So after deep debates regarding life and marriage I dream that the Big Guy and I are playing cards. Not just any game, but WAR. You know the one where you each take half the deck and flip them over one at a time-the high card takes both cards? Well into the game we each flip a card over...both nines. Well yelled,"WAR," and laid three cards face down and flipped over another card...both queens...three more cards face down, one more face up...both kings...three more cards face down, one more face up...both jacks. The Big Guy started to get freaked and stared directly, intently into my eyes...we both new it was a perfect match. I guess some things are just meant to be.

Cookie Withdrawl.

2009-01-07T10:27:00.003-06:00

I don't really believe in New Year's resolutions...just one more thing to add to my list...that might not get done...which would defeat the purpose of making a reloution to make myself feel better. BUT, when I realized that the zipper on my jeans was going to need a little WD40 to make it all the way to the top...I figured I better rethink the resolution thing. I have not made a list, like eat 1200 calories or exercize 60 minutes a day (although perhaps that is exactly what I should do), I have just decided to be a better me...hopefully that includes a smaller me. It is a mind shift if you will...a new way of thinking. Better things going in, better thoughts while it's in there and better things coming out...and I mean attitude here friends, not potty talk. So those cookies on the counter (not to mention those still in the freezer)...staring at me...taunting me with their sprinkles and chocolate kisses...just might end up accidently in a sink full of sudsy water. Something has to drown them out...the little voices in my head don't need any more competition.

One Way Streets.

2009-01-06T07:23:00.003-06:00

I have always hated one way streets...especially when I realize I am on one...going the wrong way. I really don't see the point. After all, we all have to get somewhere and if we are coming from somewhere isn't that where someone else probably wants to go? It's not like we haven't been taught to drive in both directions, to look out for one another and take turns. Maybe they created one way streets as a metaphor for life. If they teach us to hate driving that way, maybe we will all learn not to ACT that way. Think about it...TBC.

Right Back in the Saddle.

2009-01-05T06:47:00.003-06:00

Alarms are buzzing, back packs are laid out, buses are coming, phones are ringing, laundry is calling, calendars are bursting. It feels refreshing to be "back at work." Now I love a good holiday and all that, but there is something so nice about bidding the Wild Ones and the Big Guy ado and sitting down at my computer with a hot cup of tea...no TV's blaring, no games buzzing, no kids fighting, no one to ask me for ANYTHING (unless I answer the phone). Peace...now if I could just get the kitties to stop mistaking my ankles for a chew toy.

Happy Birthday Wee Wild One.

2009-01-03T11:54:00.005-06:00

As the Big Guy and I were getting the Wild Ones ready for bed last night, the Wee One said to us, "You better go to bed early tonight so you can be ready for my birthday tomorrow." Kind of like Christmas morning, he was by the side of my bed at an hour not acceptable for a Saturday morning, wondering if we could wake up the others so we could see if there were presents in the living room. As I was trying to peel my eyes open, the Wee One rolled over and started calculating how many minutes it was until he officially turned 7...thankfully it was almost an hour. We all closed our eyes and snoozed for a while. I cannot believe he fell for that, although it was his idea. So we counted down to the moment of his birth with a detailed story of how he was removed from my belly...cesarean style...and how incredibly long he was...his answer to the story, "Well, that must have be awkward." The Big Guy and I sang to him and our rendition must have roused the others as only something so scary could and that was the end of the lounging. The Wee One opened his presents (note to self: buy stock in Lego) and is waiting patiently for his blueberry pie. Happy Birthday my little Ju Ju Bee.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-02T15:46:00.006-06:00

I would have posted this yesterday...but we never made it home. We headed to the festivities Wednesday afternoon and never quite got motivated to leave. We met some new friends, made (and enjoyed) a fabulous dinner and before we knew it...or even had time to pop the corks...it was New Years Day. The Big Guy and Miss Thing were trying to prop their eyes open with tooth picks, but finally gave in and wrangled up the Wild Ones and tucked them in. Mean while Papa Elf and I decided to make a trip to the garage (the unheated garage I might add) for a little puff of smoke...NO not me-I just had to supervise...you know I can't miss anything...and ended up in one of our life altering, change the world debates...I mean conversations...until 4 in the morning. The Big Guy popped out to give one last attempt to get us in bed and caught us in a compromising situation...or so he thought. You see Papa Elf gets a little excited, impassioned (rightious??) and let's just say in your face...the Big Guy asked us what we were doing and Papa Elf turned and hissed, "Chatting." The Big Guy knows when to walk away and didn't see me again for a couple of hours until I snuggled my icy ass up next to him to thaw (and not one word of complaint from the saint). Morning came all too fast and just as I was ready to head home...there were waffles to eat, kitchens to clean, games to be played, pizza to cook, football to watch, Nerf wielding crazies to avoid, more pizzas to order, more football to watch and more stories to be told. That is when I sat back and reflected on the wonderful friends that we have made...how lucky to have friends that not only don't kick you out, but make you feel so at home that you can lounge in your jammies and go through the fridge as if you were at your own house. I finally peeled the Big Guy off the couch and into the car...as it was nearing bedtime...for fear that we would never be invited back (only time will tell). Welcome to 2009...The Year of Happiness.

This One Really Snuck up on Me.

2008-12-31T10:38:00.002-06:00

Yep it's New Years Eve. Didn't really think about that until yesterday when the Big Guy and I started talking about what we should do tonight. We wavered between movies at home, a scrumptious dinner or drinks with friends. Of course no decision was made and the day went on... and the next thing I know plans have been made and all I have to do is show up (with my famous salad, veggies and dessert). We will be dining (on Lobster) in Uptown, drinking with friends all while the kids watch a movie. It must be ESP...and luck that some other schmos didn't have plans either.

A toast from the Grouchy Dog: Dance as if no one is watching...Sing as if no one can hear you...Laugh with abandon...Hug with your heart...Kiss like it is the first time.

"Act so as to elicit the best in others and thereby in thyself." Felix Adler

They Think I'm an Expert.

2008-12-30T10:25:00.003-06:00

The point of this story is that they...the Wild Ones...actually think I'm an expert at something. No, it doesn't matter that they are not talking about calculus, physics or American literature. It just matters that they have admitted the expert thing. I guess you'd like to know what makes them look at me in awe...well, they say I am the best at making up nicknames. Yeah I know...some talent. I guess it gives away my goofiness at home or around friends...although the friends don't always get it and I have received some pretty interesting looks, but I guess it is in the Wild One's explanations to their friends that I have learned of my expertise. I hope I have not blocked out the part where they say "she thinks she's an". The Wild Ones are more commonly known as Migli, Boodle and Ju Ju Bee among many others. So it was only natural that after we named the kitties, that we would come up with some crazy alternate aliases for them. I have called the tiny one Darbilicious (I don't know why...it just came out one day) and the giant one Japperdoo. So last weekend I was standing at the kitchen sink and the Big Guy came walking in with Darby in his arms and they both were looking rumpled and cute and when I opened my mouth I said, "Oh...Dickilicious." I think I was referring to the cat...perhaps I need to rethink my expertise. The look on the Big Guys face was priceless and we had one of those laughs that add years to your life...or so I like to believe!

Where to Start?

2008-12-29T10:22:00.002-06:00

The relatives are gone, the tree is down (but still sitting on the front porch waiting to be hauled to the Grouchy Dog for a winter bon fire) and the toys are in the correct bedrooms...although slowly being hauled out and investigated. We are still eating cookies and apple pie for breakfast and ham with potatoes, ham in soup, ham on buns and ham cold out of the container for all other meals. The snow is hard packed (and sitting on an inch of ice), the sun is shining and wee friends are showing up on the doorstep. We are all in sweats (well maybe some of us are still in jammies) lounging with "nothing pressing to do". What a perfect way to spend a day of Winter Vacation.

A Little Under the Weather.

2008-12-26T13:52:00.003-06:00

I don't know about you, but I am wiped out. Volunteering at school (and shelters and for the Big Guy), Thanksgiving (yeah, I know that was a month ago, but it hasn't stopped since then), traveling, Christmas...you know the drill. And through all of this I have not stopped to take care of myself (unless you count holiday cookies and a few extra cocktails...hey it's all the festivities) and now I am too pooped to take care of anyone else. Thank goodness the friendly little cold virus that had been knocking at my door did not find his way in until the last stragglers of Christmas dinner were on their way out the door. I plan to spend the day...perhaps the next week...snuggled in my new pink jammies and robe (perhaps the Big Guy and the Wild Ones saw this one coming) on the couch watching movies or reading one of my books (well I will try for at least an hour until I get antsy and need to take the tree down or shovel the patio or organize all the new toys). I hope all was merry for you and your families and that Santa found his way through the seven levels of the candy cane forest and across the sea of twirly whirly gumdrops.

Feeling Lucky.

2008-12-19T08:29:00.003-06:00

As you know I was gone for a few days and that always causes a bit of anxiety for me (I'll get to what happened in Florida and what didn't happen at home another time). The Big Guy and I were laying in bed the morning that I was flying out and he turns to me and says (totally out of the blue), "We will be OK if something happens to you. We will miss you, but we'll be OK." WTF??! So that is what I had to think about for four days alone (while caring for my ailing grand parents)...nice! Well I made it to Florida (with an extra 7 hours of layovers due to lost crews and missing planes) and boarded my first of two flights home. As we were beginning our initial descent into the Memphis airport, I turned to my seat mate (a very nice older lady from Port St. Joe) and was about to comment (probably something trivial) when I see a plane coming right at us. Hmmm...it took a second to register that THAT WAS NOT NORMAL! The woman must have seen my face turn white because she whipped her head to the window and turned a very non-flattering shade of green. I started hyperventilating and almost threw up. She spent her time comforting me as visions of my family "missing me, but doing just fine" went floating through my head (Thanks BG). This all happened in about 10 seconds (or maybe it was only 5...I'm not sure, you don't stop to check the time when you are sure that you are living your last seconds on earth...or should I say in this realm) and by the time the flight attendant saw what was happening, the other plane and turned and ended up behind us (it was heading toward the front of our plane when we first saw it). Her African American face began to turn from white back to it's natural "coffee with cream" color as she kept repeating, "It's OK, it's behind us now." I notice that she stood with us (if she was shaking even half as much as I was I'm sure she was afraid to move for fear of falling into someone's complimentary beverage) and checked about 12 times to make sure it was really gone. If these two had not been with me and saw what I saw, I am not sure I would believe that it had happened, it seems much more like a dream or a clip from a movie (although the feeling I get in my arms and the back of my neck even as I type this tells me that it was more real than anything I have ever experienced before). We landed about 10 minutes later and my next plane had already begun to board. The pilots sitting in that cockpit (maybe their legs were shaking and they couldn't stand either) should be grateful for my hasty departure as I would have had a few words to say to them if I had had time...like "WTF! You dudes always fly like this...were those your buddies I waved to back there...are we on a movie set...do you have any Valium?" I sped through the Memphis airport, looking like a drunk housewife (my stiletto boots didn't help) praying to make my connection and that the flight attendants would be speedy with their beverage service...near death experiences give a little credibility to the saying "I could really use a cocktail right now."

On my way...

2008-12-15T07:21:00.003-06:00

Bathing suit...check. Camera...check. Flip flops...check. Books...check. Sunglasses...check. Sound emotional state of well being...working on that. My bags are packed, one Wild One is off to school with dozens of cookies for the teachers exchange (yes the families bake for the teachers and they "exchange"), the other two Wild Ones are starting to stir and will soon be off with their cookies too. Instead of sending the Big Guy off to the office, he will be sending me off in a plane. I am on my way to Panama City Beach to see my very special grandparents, "Grammer" and "Great." Yeah I know it's not the best time to leave (unless you consider I am trading -5 degrees for 75 degrees), but sometimes "you gotta do what you gotta do" and that time is right now. I hope to post pictures this week, but in case I become MIA you will know where I am (I dare you to come find me). Til then...revel in gratefulness and share a few extra hugs.

Speaking of Elves.

2008-12-12T07:37:00.005-06:00

This crazy little guy has been in my family for...well let's just say...ever. He is a little worse for the wear, but his magic is still alive. You see he shows up when he wants to (sometime around the Christmas holidays) and where he wants to. He moves around when no one is looking and we never know where to expect him next. We haven't seen him in a few years, but again this year when we were decorating our Christmas tree we started to look for him. We couldn't find him and it was kind of sad, we figured maybe he had moved on (perhaps another family...or gasp...went to Elfie heaven). We hung our new star garland and went about the business of eating Christmas candy and watching Christmas movies and soon let our thoughts of The Elf become fond memories. The next day I was standing in the kitchen when I heard one of the Wild Ones screeching...I listened for a second to decipher the "type" of screech I had heard, determined it to be an excited sound and leaped for the living room. The Elf had appeared...lounging in the new garland as if he hadn't been gone for all those years. You think I am making this up? The Big Guy and I looked at each other "knowingly," each sure the other had something to do with it. We did not...it just appeared...no one had seen it, no one heard it, and no one knows how it happened. All I know is that he is back, raising the level of Christmas cheer each time we find him hiding in a new spot. This is where I found him this morning.

Family Tradition.

2008-12-11T06:38:00.002-06:00

It is just not Christmas around this house until we have watched this movie...at least 3 times. Who am I kidding, we watch it all year long (and I don't re-watch movies...unless I have forgotten that I even watched it in the first place). I don't know if it is the tights, the pointy shoes or the resemblance to The Big Guy, but this giant elf makes me smile. The Wild Ones use lines from the movie to argue what they should be allowed to eat, "The four food groups: candy, candy canes, candy corn and syrup." Perhaps the Wild Ones are enamored with Buddy because his personality reminds them of their parents...a little bad singing, a little goofy and a lot of heart. If you have not seen this movie (what rock have you been living under?) take your fingers off your key board, and run (don't walk) to the nearest Target (or Best Buy or grocery store...you can probably even get it at your local gas station) and buy it...renting won't do, you won't want to return it and then you'll get charged late fees and then you will eventually own the movie for $75. Call in sick, get a big bowl of your favorite candy and enjoy some christmas cheer..."The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear." And if you don't agree...you're a cotten-headed-ninny-muggins!

What would it be like?

2008-12-10T08:40:00.002-06:00

What would it be like to walk 2 miles round trip to get one bag of groceries...then turn around and do it two more times...in 17 degree snowy weather? What would it be like to have two boys with winer jackets, but no snow boots? What would it be like to pay your rent, electricity and gas bills and have no money left over for food? What would it be like to lose your job due to recession and have to move in with a friend who is barely covering his bills? I honestly don't know. I have lived a privileged life...yes there have been times when my parents went with out so I could have new shoes for gym and times as an adult where I have had to eat Ramen instead of something fresh, but I have always been fortunate enough to make ends meet...and on the occasions when I couldn't I had family to back me up and help me out. I have worked 3 jobs at a time, I have lived with in-laws and I have sold everything I owned, but I have never been forced to understand true financial hardship (Now heart ache? That's my true story).

I was asked by a friend to volunteer with her at our local food shelf this week...and in the depths of my co-dependency I couldn't say no. I am glad I made that choice. I have volunteered all my life...animal shelters, kid's with autism, disabled children using horses for therapy, the Wild One's schools...preschool through 6th grade. I have donated money to causes close to my heart and causes in honor of others. I stock my wallet with one dollars bills to help pad the red kettles each christmas, I donate (and instigate) clothes drives and I single handedly filled the local Goodwill last month. NONE of that compares (don't get all cranky...everything I have done was very worthwhile, enjoyable and I will continue to do it all with enthusiasm) to working first hand with people who cannot provide themselves with basic human supplies. It was a very humbling experience (although I did have to flick the judgmental kitten off my shoulder a few times).

I felt strange when people came in asking for toilet paper...when I need toilet paper I hop in my car and drive to Target and load up a big old 24 pack. I will never do that again with out thinking of that soft tissue as a privilege. If anyone is moved to donate to your (or my) local food shelf please learn something from my experience. The people that I met don't necessarily want or need the things that we have been lead to believe that they need. Items that were most often requested were toilet paper, feminine products and easy to prepare foods, but remember that if things like oil, butter, milk and eggs are needed to prepare...they probably do not have those things at home. We could not give away the canned veggies or fruit, but quickly ran out of coffee, milk and cookies. Check with your food shelf as the one I was at does have freezers (for things like hamburger) and refrigerators for perishables.

While it seemed like some people were working the system (everything is weighed and tracked...although no one is ever turned away), others turned down our offers of more...they only took what they absolutely needed. One boy left with a new pair of boots (and a mother who had the most beautiful smile) and an older gentleman left with this phrase, "Thank you for being here. Thank you for volunteering." Sign me up for next week.

Wait it gets better.

2008-12-08T14:55:00.003-06:00

I stopped in to grab dog food today and the first thing I see is...the cute puppy from the car...OK it might not have been the same cute "dad," but the puppy was overly excited to see me...he went crazy. When I stopped to pet him (no way could I resist that) he knocked me down and climbed in my lap. His "dad" didn't think that was very good manners and told him to get off me. Guess what he called him? Go ahead, guess...Oliver. No wonder we were so attracted to each other...although after kissing him on the nose, I had to wander off before the "dad" saw the tears rolling down my cheeks. That is just what I needed to keep me going...Thank God for the wonders of the world!

For Your Ears Only.

2008-12-08T07:25:00.004-06:00

File this under "Things that one should NEVER repeat to anyone," cuz really what happens when you are alone...no one else would ever have to know. Friday I dropped the Wild Ones off at school (did the double crazy loop) and was feeling pretty free, music cranked up and ready to face the day. I was sitting at the "I'm never going to get out of here" stop sign when I looked to my left and saw the most adorable dog staring right at me. I couldn't look away and being all lost in my freedom, I started making faces at the dog and saying things like "Oh cute little puppy, you want to come home with me...don't you?" I even made little puckering kisses at it. Just as I was about to check my status in line, I looked up and saw a very handsome man looking right over the head of the dog...at me...smiling. As I turned away in horror, I saw (from the corner of my eye) him...the handsome man...pucker his lips and wink.

A Club I Don't Want You to Join.

2008-12-06T17:02:00.006-06:00

As beautiful and wonderful as this statue is, I hope you never have to place a brick there. You see the angel is surrounded by bricks memorializing children that have died. We will be there tonight with hundreds of other people (including a dear friend and the first grade teacher of all of the Wild Ones who lost an adult brother many years ago on December 6th) lighting candles for our sons, daughter, siblings, grandchildren, nieces, nephews and friends. It will be bitter cold and we won't care. We will stand together in tears, holding hands and remembering. We will pray and take strength from those gathered with us. At 7 pm light a candle for Oliver and all the other children you may have know. We will recite a poem titled, "We Remember Them." Take a moment to count your blessings and give your kids an extra hug. We will feel the energy from all the love and hugs you are sending. There is strength in hope, love and friendship.

It's Beginning to Look a lot like Christmas.

2008-12-05T06:08:00.002-06:00

I keep expecting a call from Visa to warn me that my Visa may have been stolen due to an unusually high rate of spending. I knew it was time to slow down yesterday when I stopped by the library to get a few books for the Wild One's school projects and instead of giving the librarian my library card...I handed her my Visa.

BTW...yesterdays cartoon that I obviously thought was so funny, but didn't care to make big enough to share with the rest of you reads: "I'm sorry dear, I haven't been listening. Could you repeat everything you've said since we got married?'

I Apologize.

2008-12-04T07:48:00.002-06:00

The littlest Wild One went running through the kitchen last night and wiped out...flat out, whole body splayed on the floor wipe out. Not too out of the ordinary...until it happened for the third time. Turns out the Big Guy had sprayed furniture polish on a magazine (long story...had to do with fixing the treadmill taking up space in the basement) and the overspray landed on the floor making it extremely slippery. Soon all the Wild Ones were running through the kitchen trying to wipe out. I was laughing hysterically, so much so that I could barely talk. You see, while I did find the wipe outs funny, that is not really what I was laughing about. I was remembering something that I had been meaning to get around to (for about 6 years)...apologize to the Big Guy. When we lived in our old house we had a two story entry with a stair case that wrapped around the hallway upstairs. On occasion I would actually clean all the woodwork around the stairway. The first time I attempted this I sprayed the wood (as opposed to spraying the cloth) and then wiped it down. It looked great, I went about my day and the Big Guy came home from work...nothing unusual. Until he went to put something in the office (passing under the aforementioned woodwork) and completely went down...cartoon style...feet up in the air and everything (I bet you are laughing now too). Well I never really admitted to knowing exactly why the floor was so slippery (I didn't do it on purpose...the first time). So now, formally I would like to apologize to the Big Guy for all the bruises I may have inadvertently caused way back when...and for all the uncontrollable giggles coming from around the corner.

Fake is for the birds...oh wait.

2008-12-03T07:22:00.002-06:00

I received an email last night (you know the kind that asks you all sorts of personal questions, you fill it out, pass it on and wait to hear everyone else's responses? I do have to admit I love those things...must be the "Nosy Nellie" in me...Thanks Nicki) that asked the question, "Real tree or artificial?" It reminded me of when I was "married with no kids" and my mother and sister were into the fake trees. I had no kids to impress and being ahead of my time in the green movement, I thought I would give it a try. So the Big Guy and I put up the Christmas tree and he promptly left for a business trip. I was left to decorate the "tree" and it just wasn't working for me...no smells, no pile of needles digging into my bare feet as I walked by and no bloody knuckles when I hung the lights. If that wasn't bad enough the dang tree would not stay upright in the stand. So being the industrious gal that I was (I was a terror on the bobcat and could whiz any power tool with the best of them) I decided to have a look around the garage, but all I could find was a dry bag of cement and a few rakes. So I did what anyone would do, I went inside and opened a bottle of wine. Rigged up with a little liquid gold I ventured back into the garage and mixed myself up a bucket of cement and plastered that dang tree right into the stand. So the answer to that email question, "Real of Fake?" Mine is so real I will be picking pine needles out of my feet (and the back of my hair) for weeks.

Not so cute at 2 am.

2008-12-02T07:25:00.004-06:00

The kitties are doing well (as in they have not run away, they are using their litter box and they have not scratched the Rotten's eyes out). When we brought them home we were going to acclimate them to the house and the dog slowly, but getting an excited 9 year old to follow that train of thought is easier said than done. As we drove up the drive way I laid out explicit instructions as to how we would separate the kittens from the dog and get them settled before the introduction. I think I was talking to myself (it happens). Rotten was in the driveway when we arrived and was jumping near the car when we stopped. The middlest Wild One immediately opened his car door (boy kitten in hands) ran over to Rotten and said, "Look Ruger, a new kit....ahh....oooowwwieeeeeeee!!!!!" Evidently the kitty didn't know the large, strange black creature was his new brother...which should have implied friendliness...and tried to hide in the back of the Wild One's neck. The kitten was thrown toward the car (in an attempt to trap it in the car...ha) and mayhem ensued. The other Wild Ones were trying to get the girl kitty inside, I was chasing the middle Wild One with one hand and trying to gather a soapy wash cloth, hydrogen peroxide and neosporin with the other. If the neighbor across the street had not had his music playing loud enough to shake the other neighbors windows someone may have come out thinking we were performing some satanic ritual. We can all laugh about it now (now that the wounds have cleared up and the cat was found hiding under the car), but I was not laughing at 2 am when Jasper was sharpening his claws on my ankle every time I moved (I think he was trying to save me from the evil creatures residing under my covers) and his sister Darby was breathing in my ear...but they are so furry I forgave them...for now.

Meet the New Abbotts

2008-12-02T07:25:00.001-06:00

Santa came early.

2008-12-01T07:33:00.004-06:00

Every year we do the same thing. We bundle up the Wild Ones (hope to remember gloves for ourselves) and head north to Jan's Christmas Tree Farm. It's great...they have a pile of hay bales, bonfires, people who reenact old stuff (think blacksmiths and rope makers), horse drawn carriage rides and Santa even flies in by helicopter. So this year we decide to go early and take advantage of the nice weather (I had to brainwash myself into believing it was OK to get our tree in November and that it will still be fresh by Christmas, but hey there is something to be said for avoiding frostbitten body parts).

Santa flies in, we wait in line, we visit the "people" (the Big Guy ended up with a hand made rope and the tiny Wild One ended up with a musketball-both made right before their eyes) and just as I am suggesting a carriage ride or a roll in the hay the Wild Ones spot the kittens. Santa's "nice" helper announces that she is sure it would be ok to take one home with us. Have I ever mentioned the whining and begging that immediately starts spewing from the pores of the Wild Ones at the thought of having their very own kitten? I almost told the Wild Ones that it was too bad they had already seen Santa cuz they could have asked him to bring them a kitten (sometimes those things just slip out), but then something magical happened...The Big Guy actually said yes. None of us believed him (and I kind of felt bad for the Wild Ones standing there with a look of "almost delight" on their faces not quite sure how to react), but before he could say, "Ha, just kidding" the Wild Ones were off in search of the best kitten...fighting even before they got there about which one they would bring home. The Big Guy seemed serious so I followed the enthusiastic banter to the room full of cats and watched as our new family member was passed from kid to kid. With a purring kitten in arms, we went in search of the Big Guy to weedle into his soft spot. It took a while to find him and when he turned around he had "the perfect kitten" in his arms. I took one look at him, shook my head and laughed the words, "We're getting two kittens aren't we?" His answer? "This one came right to me." As if he had to talk us into it! So much for the hay bales and carriage rides...the Wild Ones wouldn't even get out of the car (and leave the kittens) to help pick-or cut- the perfect tree...oh well, they know by now that I always have the last say any way.

Giving Thanks

2008-11-29T18:55:00.001-06:00

The Night Before.

2008-11-27T09:28:00.005-06:00

This is how we start Thanksgiving...Wednesday night with the Monsons (you'll notice the Wild Ones are missing...we won't see them for the next 48 hours). That is about the most traditional thing you will see when the turkeys get cooked at my house. Family, games and cocktails.

On the menu this year...two 15 pound turkeys, shallot and spicy sausage stuffing, garlic and asiago mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts sauteed with bacon, caramelized onions and gorgonzola cheese, swiss corn and roasted root and green veggies and multi-grain ciabatta buns all served with slices of pumpkin, apple, blueberry and lemon pie and one chocolate cheesecake. A little red and white wine to top it all off and all should be happy. Throw in a round of pool, some ping pong and some very verbal board games and you got what closely resembles a perfect day.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you and your families...gobble gobble.

Where's my book?

2008-11-26T09:04:00.008-06:00

The setting: The day before Thanksgiving, 24 people coming for dinner. Chairs need recovering, strange man hanging sheet rock in the mudroom, 3 Wild Ones out of school...day 5...and a house that needs a deep cleaning. One Disgruntled Princess wandering around the house (yep the dirty one) looking under cushions, behind dressers and in the corners of the closets.

The Big Guy: "Whatcha doin"?

Disgruntled Princess: "Looking for a book."

TBG: "What book?"

DP: "My book." Duh.

TBG: "Really?" Duh "What's the name of your book?"

DP: "It's just a book, not a big deal."

TBG: "Then why are you tearing the house apart if it's 'No big deal'?"

DP: "Just something I wanted to read today."

TBG: (Rolling his eyes) "What's the book about?"

DP: (Hiding my eyes)... "Procrastination."

Your Secret is Safe with Me.

2008-11-25T12:37:00.002-06:00

Last week I was invited to "sub" for a Bunko game. I knew the host and the other "sub" who invited me so I assumed I would know some other ladies there and if they knew me they wouldn't care that I had never played before. Well I didn't recognize a single set of eyes in the joint and they still didn't care...that's when I first decided I liked this group of gals and would try my best not to run off with all their money/prizes. Turns out I didn't have to try very hard...after winning the first 7 rounds I pretty much marked my spot at the losers table (actually I signed my name in a big L I scribbled on the table cloth...yes it was paper-I do have a few manners...every time I lost another round). So there were cocktails, food, friends and fun...just what people say happens at Bunco and what they don't say stays at Bunko (wink, wink). Now that you know I am a good loser (and can keep a secret...kind of)..."subs" anyone?

Day 3 of 9.

2008-11-24T18:13:00.002-06:00

Days one and two were filled with playdates, sleepovers, movies, dinners out and building stuff outside. Day three: conferences, grocery shopping and lots of fussing. I was thrilled to drop them off with the Big Guy for 60 minutes of peace (with my therapist). I almost skipped to the elevators with visions...and giggles... of what havoc they must be reeking in the Big Guy's office. I stood in front of the elevators (which are usually quite timely) waiting patiently (remember I was alone) when I discovered that I had been pushing my car remote to call the lift (hey I was aiming it at the doors). I did the quick look around, complete with low whistle and reached out for the real button hoping that the only cameras they have are inside the elevators. Then I promptly steered my sweet ride to the nearest liquor store and ordered myself a case of "mommy juice."

Rumor has it...

2008-11-21T14:16:00.006-06:00

Leave it to a bored housewife and her crazy friend to stir things up a bit. Earlier in the week, I dropped my grocery getter off at the "shop" where they were to have a loaner waiting. I think the Big Guy had a misunderstanding with the owner of the fix it place because when I got there all they had waiting for me was a loser (and I really mean that in the nicest of ways). As in a friend of ours who was hanging out (and whom I think they were trying to get rid of) with time on his hands and an almost empty front seat.

So "Elvis" offers to give me a ride home in his white suburban...all he has to do is move his "tools" and a few left over kid snacks (which I am sure were aimed at the back of his head by the tiny offspring that he carts to daycare each morning). We got about half way to our destination when we had a brilliant idea and abruptly changed our course. We decided we absolutely had to do a "loop" through town to see how many people we could be seen by...yep that's right...we wanted people to see us together in the middle of the day...alone...did I mention together? We thought this was so hilarious (perhaps we should spruce up our resumes, we obviously have too much time on our hands) that I laughed so hard I almost wet my pants...I didn't worry, I figured I could blame it on one of the tiny ones I mentioned earlier. We made sure our route included a stop at his house (with plenty of time inside) to check out a few things (I know it just keeps getting better).

Before our journey left me at my own doorstep (an hour and a half later), we managed to pass, wave to and even talk to several people. Now we just sit back and see how long it takes the rumor mill to scatter it's first press release. Stay tuned...

I'm Doing It.

2008-11-20T07:22:00.002-06:00

Arriving soon at your (actually my) neighborhood thrift store...all the stuff I have been collecting for years (and the Big Guy and his mother...I mean their stuff, not them...hmmm). I have been sorting and sifting and hauling through all my sh*#, and some lucky hoosier is going to be able to take it home and make it part of their collection of sh*#. Don't get me wrong, this is nice sh*#, I just don't own three homes any more and I want to trade my storage room for a craft room (I may give the Big Guy a corner for some tools, but I'm gonna paint the wall a pretty color and make him keep it organized) and my over stuffed closets for some clean air space.

I spent the entire day yesterday going through closets and boxes (not even half way done) and when the Big Guy got home (carting some yummy take out) I asked him if he was dying to help. He got a big grin on his face (I'm pretty sure it was forced) and said that was exactly what he wanted to do. It was going well until he started seeing things he hadn't seen in a while and was digging deep to come up for new uses for them. I had to get a little tough with him at this point, after all we were down there to purge not resurrect. By the end he was as brutal as I was and now today I am left with piles that reach the ceiling of sh*# to be hauled to the curb and to the thrift stores-I hope the Big Guy is not buried under neath it. So if you're looking for some good cheap sh*# to call your own head on down to the Goodwill or the Salvation Army...you're not just helping me out, you're contributing to society (and you never know, you just may find that thing you never knew you needed).

2008-11-19T06:59:00.003-06:00

I know you are probably tired of hearing me talk about living out in the boon docks (and frankly, so I am...sometimes), but this was so cool. I don't usually get so excited about deer...well maybe I do. We have a herd of about 12 that visit us regularly and I have been know to stand on dining room chairs and whisper yell for the kids to come running..."Oh, it's just Bunsie standing on the chair again freaking out about the deer we see every day," and off they run. Sometimes they humor me...if there is nothing better going on. But today was different...really. I rolled the long legged Wild One down to the bus (yes I drive her the 1/4 mile...I didn't want my hair to freeze...I've got a good, different excuse for every day) and I poked my head out the window to wave at Sandy (the bus driver, not the chipmunk...some of you will know who I am talking about) and holler goodbye to the bleary eyed middle schooler-still my job to try to embarrass her...until someone assigns me another role-and I see a deer standing in the street behind the bus. Now this was not an ordinary deer and it was not in the herd. It was watching me (perhaps taking notes on how to embarrass the young). Finally it winked (it's way of saying, "Thank you," I think) and sauntered off down the road...and right up my driveway. Well of course I had to follow it...I was going that way anyway. I stopped at the bend in the asphalt and there it was, in the brush on the edge of the corn field (no sky scrapers to block our view...said with a sigh of longing) about 10 feet away from me. Now that is what I call a hunters dream...and I wanted to shoot so badly I was salivating (stay with me here). It meandered off and I slowly coasted toward my front door. I ran inside and tripped over a 100 pound Lab. I was shaking and I could see the buck heading for my back yard, did I mention that it was a 12 point buck?! I saw each and every point myself...why do you think I was shaking and tripping over furry things? Well I grabbed my weapon and wrestled Rotten for use of the back door. By this time the stud was nearing the back 80 and almost out of my range. I did the best I could and now I have another item to add to my Christmas list...a stronger telephoto lens for my Nikon.

What's the Warning?

2008-11-18T07:33:00.002-06:00

Red sky at night, Sailor's delight...Red sky in the morning, Sailors take warning. This is what I saw this morning as I took the oldest Wild One to the bus (much more red and much more spectacular in person...I think I missed the height of it, it was that or miss the bus. I should have missed the bus as I have to drive to school to drop off her forgotten shoes anyway...might as well have taken her too).

A similar verse was used by Shakespeare in "Venus and Adonis," "Like a red morn that ever yet betokened, Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, Sorrow to the shepherds, woe unto the birds, Gusts and fowl flaws to herdmen and to herds." And also in the Bible (Matthew XVI: 2-3,) Jesus said, "When in evening, ye say, it will be fair weather: For the sky is red. And in the morning, it will be foul weather today; for the sky is red and lowering." Bet you never thought you'd hear me quoting the Bible...or Shakespeare...just a little something I pulled off the top of my head.

The red sunrise is actually a reflection of the dust particles of a system that has already passed from the west, which means that a storm system is moving to the east. The deep red indicates a high water content in the atmosphere and likely hood that you will want to pack your umbrella even if the sky looks delectable.

Whew...had to get at least one intellectual blog in before the end of the year...I think the quotes helped...now go be helpful and pass along this tasty morsel of trivia...and make it sound like you've know it all along...remember it's Shakespeare and the Bible.

Everyone's a Winner.

2008-11-17T07:27:00.002-06:00

I'm sure I'd be saying that even if Orono had won (not really, but maybe). This is the first time in Orono's history that our football team has gone this far. A perfect season...until Friday...at "The Dome" in front of thousands of people. No matter...we are proud of the team and the coach who got them there. The Wild Ones got to skip school, the Big Guy played hooky from work and we made a day of it. We started at the school gathering posters and spreading cheer...we waited at Caribou for the fire and police escort through town...we lunched at Maxwell's (an Orono family owned watering hole)...cheered wildly and loudly with the other red and blue crazies...and then shut down the Rooster with some old and new friends. Way to go Spartans!!! We're looking forward to next year!

Back to a Simpler Life.

2008-11-13T08:16:00.003-06:00

I just want to declutter. Give away the toys sitting on the shelves, the books gathering dust and the cute clothes that I am sure I will wear soon...but don't. The clothes we've outgrown and the equipment (skis, skates, lifejackets) that no longer fit. They seem to good to not sell, but there is hope that someone who needs them will be able to have them (versus someone who buys them for a steal and then sells them to the highest bidder on ebay).

I scoff at people who fly to New York and buy a new wardrobe for each season and throw out the old. But, in reality I do the same thing...on a much smaller scale...at discount stores and on odd trips each week throughout the season...only it doesn't seem like I have a new wardrobe when I buy one piece at a time...so I never get rid of the old stuff. Maybe I need to start tagging along on those New York shopping sprees.

Every room and every surface in every room of my house is filled with stuff. As I go through each room and try to get rid of things this voice in my head tells me something about each thing. "Those are the bandanas you are going to wear to the state tournament tomorrow and I am sure the kids will want to wear them to school after that, or you can tie them around your head when you clean the house and remember the Spartan's win," "That is the cookie jar the wee Wild One got for his birthday...and he colored it himself," (note to self: buy...I mean...make cookies for the cookie jar) "MIL gave me these dishes and they remind her of her grandmother in San Fransisco...isn't that cool," (for her!) "You really need a coat (and shoes!) in every color and every style...you never know what you will get invited to," (and I'll have the perfect outfit to go with them...if I can just find it in the piles of clothes stuffed in all my closets).

If anyone knows where the switch is to turn off that voice or has some extra duct tape let me know...I am still fighting for that simple life.