Sometimes enough is enough....

I have been trying very hard to stop eating fast food. I do very well on this except for breakfast.

Cooking at home, if not fun, at least can be interesting. Seriously. I have set the stove on fire, grabbed numerous hot items, cut myself and 75% of the time have the kids wishing I would have just made eggs.

Tonight...I decide I am exhausted because The Bug has the flu and per her doctors orders has been banished to her room until she hasn't run a fever for 24 hours therefore leaving The Grumpy Teen and I at her beck and call. I have now added to my "Things You Must Teach Your Children" list that though it is ok to have the urge to want to throw ice cream at someone because you are deathly ill and it's that time of the month and you wanted the caramel one not the vanilla one, you can't actually act on it. Because apparently, for my children at least, that doesn't fall under the common sense category.

Anyway, back to the I'm exhausted and I decide we will have fast food for dinner because I have worked all day, spent my lunch hour talking The Grumpy Teen out of murder while picking up the living room and folding laundry, all on very little sleep and at this point don't have it in me to care about their arteries.

We pass by Burger King because the line is long. We pass by McDonalds because that line is even longer. We decide on Wendy's because no one is there. RED FLAG!!! Or so you would think. Maybe there is a reason my kids lack in the common sense department...

I pull up to the menu/speaker. You can't see anything because they haven't turned the light on so here is how it goes...

Drive Thru Teenager: Can I take your order?

Me: Can I have one second please?


I squint at the menu...

75 seconds later...

RUDE ARSE DRIVE THRU TEENAGER: *smacks her lips* I said can I take your order?

Me: *dumbfounded* Actually no you can't.

As I drive off I see her look at me through her little window and she says on the speaker...

Have a nice day!

I throw the car in reverse.


The Grumpy Teen: Please mom don't!

Me: Any other day, but not today! Just sit here a minute...

I go in all gung ho to say:

Me: Manager, can you step over here with me to your fingerprinted and I can only imagine whatever else might be on it window?

We walk to it so I can show her McDonalds....

Me: Do you ever wonder why people are willing to wait in that long arse line for food instead of seeing that you have no wait and come here? It is because you suck. So now that I have helped inform you of new knowledge could you do the same for me? Why would your drive-thru slacker act as if I am wasting her time WHEN YOU HAVE NO CUSTOMERS? I can forgive the fact that you are trying to save on your light bill by not turning the signs on because YOU HAVE NO CUSTOMERS, why can she not forgive that I need a minute to squint at your unlit menu? Why is she in that big of a hurry? Is scrubbing the toilets that important because it cant be that she is anxious to wait on other customers BECAUSE YOU HAVE NONE! Are you seeing my point, Manager? If you want that kind of line *I tap on the window pointing to McDonalds and then wipe my finger on my jeans* you might want to have a class on how to be nice to the, that's right....NOT MANY..., customers you do have. I'm going to go get in line somewhere else now but you put that in your Frosty and slurp it.

Instead after another teenage twerp went and got the manager I simply said:

If your drive thru girl is not wanting to wait for people to order, you might want to turn the sign's light on. It's kind of hard to see in the dark.

Yes, my imagination is way more fierce than my actual self. It's not so much I'm worried what they thought but more the look on The Grumpy Teen's face when I got out of the car that kept me in check. But let me just warn you now, when they are grown and raising their own families....IT IS ON, DRIVE THRU TWIT AS I PREDICT YOU WILL STILL BE THERE!!

Can an ol' dog be taught a new trick??

For several months I have been thinking that I want a hobby. Well you know, because I have so much time on my hands! Something that is just about me and not a child, parent, sister, co-worker, friend. But you blog, you say? Blogging is more like free therapy, not a hobby.

Gardening: Aside from having a cement patio, my children are lucky that I remember to feed them. A plant with no viable way (ex: a giant mouth with a side of you birthed (is that a word?) me so it is your job attitude) to remind me to do so, is doomed.

Book Club: I personally love to read! LOVE! However I don't know a group of ladies that would A) Not want to throw the books at each other. B) Not have to be bribed with alcohol. Oh and C) READ! I can see it now...I am sitting on all the copies of the book of the month after I had to take them away while someone slurs "Why are we here again?"

Cooking/Baking Class: This is something my children would actually use their allowance to help pay for...but I would like for my hobby to not help add to this cute but chunky face!

Exercise: Do I really need to say anything?

Arts and Crafts: Ummm...then why would I need to go to the flea market?

Video Games: This one I have tried. Online even. With a friend. But let me just say something, and I mean this with no disrespect....MMORPGs ARE FOR HARDCORE NERDS GAMERS AND NOT THE AVERAGE HOUSEWIFE NOOB! If you screw up a boss fight.... Stabalot will hack into your computer, find out where you live, show up wearing their Battlegear of Might in all its glory and try and kill you with their Finkle's Lava Dredger while you sleep!

Pottery: This one use to be #1 one on the list and the only thing that makes me not choose it is the fact that the start up costs for something you may or may not like are too great and since the kids wouldn't be handing over the allowance on this one, it's a no go.

So after ALLLLLL this...I get to the point. If I can find someone to teach this ol'dog a new trick I want to play the guitar! I mean I sing the part all the time. How hard could it be to learn it? Plus I am sure to find a used one at the above mentioned flea market and then when I become an expert, I can make the grumpy teen have jam sessions with me! He is bound to think I'm cool then! I'm sure of it!! I will let you know how this pans out....

Middle School Politics

I had no idea it existed. Perhaps it is something I have blocked out from when I was that age but I honestly can't remember it being this way....

It is my Saturday to bring snacks for after Bug's soccer game. Even though it is suggested we bring water and orange slices most parents bring chips, cookies, and soda. Not wanting to upset the coach, but not wanting to be the mom that brought orange slices, I opt for Gatorade and chocolate covered granola bars.

Bug: "Mom. I don't think this is a good idea."

Me: "Meh, I am THE expert on snacks! Expert!"

Bug: Rolls eyes.

Me: "Seriously, I bet you $1 (because that is probably all she has) they will love them!"

We shake on it.

Bug: "You'll see. Then they will hate when it's my mom's snack turn again. That is NOT going to be cool, just so you know!"

After the game...

Bug: Strolls up with the empty cooler. "Everything was gone before the game was even over!"

Me: "See. Expert."

Side Note: I am now reminded she still owes me a dollar.

The night we pick out party invitations:

Bug: "Those are too pink." "Those are too boyish." "No, I don't want a cartoon character on them." "Too purple." "No stripes." "Too old lady-ish."

Me: "THAT'S IT!"

Bug: "These will work."

The night we address the invitations:

Bug: "If I invite E then M, S and J said they aren't coming."

Me: "Do you want her to come?"

Bug: "Yes mam, but I want them to come too."

Me: "Bug, I can't decide this for you. What you need to realize is you're not just making a decision on who and who not to invite. You are making a decision about the type of person you are going to be. A person who makes choices based on other peoples opinions or a person who makes her own choices."

She invited everyone. 2 of the 3 that said they wouldn't come, didn't. A great time was had by all. And just so you know, my few readers...that is my daughter and I'm a proud mom!!

Old vs. New

I would like to think of myself as being hip (saying that word completely makes this statement default to untrue, but yeah) when it comes to music but sometimes I would like to smack younger folks of today. Example:

We are in the office with T.H. at her desk, youngest sister in her spot playing on her laptop, and I'm at my desk working on what could have been accounts, what I would talk to some of the contractors about or maybe Farmville, who knows really, but I was uncharacteristically concentrating. T.H. and I no longer have working speakers on our computers and there isn't a radio in sight, so the younger sister is playing tunes on her laptop. This is annoying in itself because the speakers are horrible and make me want to claw my ears off. What makes this situation worse is her choices in music.

Note: We agree on many, many songs but on occasion our age difference will surface.

Ok, back to setting the scene. She is across the room with what sounds like death coming through her speakers plus I think if I remember correctly she might be singing along. I simply stare. Stare is too light of a word so we will change it to glare. I never say a word, just continue to glare at her when she looks over at me (sisters intuition and all)...

"What!?" she says glaring back.

"You think maybe you can turn that off?" I ask. This is my version of the tale so I remember asking "politely" and not hissing at all.

"No, I love this song!" she hisses!

I listen to the words for a minute...

"Really??" I counter.

"You feel like you are living a teenage dream?" I ask "politely".

"Ummm, this is Kate Perry! Do you know how popular she is right now?" she is getting angry.

"You like some of her other songs!!" she harps.
Some growling happened I can't remember the specifics.

"Let me ask you this...will this song ever be on the 98.1 The Max or Rock 103?? (that would be the 2 classic rock stations in this area) Hmm? Will it?? No! I don't flippin think so! Turn it off!" I'm sure I was still polite.

"I will not!" she isn't being polite.

It is one of the few times in our sisterhood that we fight because usually she is very good at handling my "politeness".

One more example before I get to the point:

I flag a car down that was driving through the complex. He is the husband of one of my favorite tenants. Very nice guy.

"I need you to turn your music down when you are in the complex, please." I tell him.

"But I've heard your music pretty loud before." He argues but he isn't being rude.

"Ahhh but my music sounds good!" I smirk. He laughs, turns it down and waves goodbye.

My point: When you are playing music that is good let me define good....Good Music: not something that has been remade, not something that is a remix, but something someday someone will want to remake or remix....then you have the right to disturb me with it. Otherwise, this old lady is going to ask your young derriere to turn it down! Just call me Mr. Wilson and get off my lawn!

A list...

...of random thoughts through out the last few weeks:

~Kids back-to-school shopping should be a form of torture that interrogators use!

~I wish I had a horn that sounded like WHA-OOOO-GA. Then it would be an even more perfect car!

~I should buy stock in McDonalds.

~I seriously would have been a great hippie except a shaving one.

~My children notice shapes in the clouds, know the words to songs I grew up listening to and even dance with me to them, and as old as they are, are still amazed by lightening bugs. This makes me more proud than any report card.

~I must kick my sweet tea addiction. YA RIGHT! Someday but not today.

~Wishes teachers knew how awesome a parent feels when their child comes home at night all yappy because they were excited about class that day.

~A song cant be really classified as magnificent unless you find yourself singing the instrumental parts also...

~My godson sits up all by himself. I will miss him being a baby that lets me kiss his face off!

~WHY cant I hang a picture without having 13 holes in the wall before I get it right?

Nerves, Nerves, Nerves

I only have a minute because I have to get ready for work but I neeeeeeeded to blog. I just dropped the Bug off at her first day of middle school this morning. This is something I have been dreading for many weeks now and had to fight back tears. I almost lost that fight when we pulled up in the drive and she let out a I-can-do-this breath!!

"Do I look like a boy?" she asked.

"No way, you look so very cute!" I answer as a proud mom.

"What if I look like everyone else?" she asked.

This is where I decide I need to be as normal as possible so that she feels like one thing is consistent in this big day of change so I say...

" are wearing a uniform, nubsauce! Of course you will!" in my best supporting mom voice. She rolls her eyes, tells me she loves me then gets out of the car...

A million things run through my mind as the tears can finally run down my face...Will she be ok? Did I give her enough lunch money? I will beat up any parents whose children try and bully her. Crap, what if she is the bully!?? Will she remember her bus number this afternoon? I can go on and on...but the number one question that keeps running through my mind is...Did I prepare my little baby Bug...the one who calls mascara...Madagascar, who I will not allow to have a cellphone, who still hugs me goodnight and occasionally even looks at me like she still likes me...did I prepare her enough for this new journey?? We shall see....

The Long Way Home...

If you had told me 4 months ago that I would be sitting here in this...this...limbo, I would have told you crack is bad. It has been a long, long journey. One that almost broke me. For those that say what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger....I have 2 words for you. Bite. Me. No seriously, there might be a little truth to it...

There was a trip to jail ( a thirty minute trip, but the clink of those bars truly made time stand still.) Then the flood that wiped out my vehicle and the entire downstairs of both the apartments I was occupying. Not to mention the 197 other apartments it effected. A third of those occupied with people who also lost everything.

After several months of staying with my parents (6 adults, 4 adolescents and 3 dogs), red tape, lists and paperwork out the wahzoo with FEMA (I thank them every time I open the door to my new place), car shopping (you would think that wouldn't be in the complaint section, but seriously, I would rather eat dirt!), all while dealing with upset tenants, contractors, city inspectors and just the overall curious (because nothing brings out the wackos like tragedy) for many, many hours several days a week we have finally brought the 1st few families home. Myself included!

My apartment is..I can not find a better word than...mine! There isn't a room I walk into that doesn't make me giddy! Even the laundry room. The spirit crushing minivan drowned and after weeks of searching we found a little convertible that the kids and I can't stay out of (BIG HAIR FOR THE WIN!). I have lost unreplaceables along the way and they will be missed but I keep them and their memory with me always...

Man, it feels good to blog again! Talk to you soon...

Life and times of my hair...

Born: No hair.

2 years old: Sprigs of hair but not enough to keep people from thinking I was a boy.

3-4 years old: Still pretty short and mom still frustrated because I could pass for a boy.

5-8 years old: Long, thick, straight, beautiful hair. Mom couldn't get it to hold a curl with all the rollers and hairspray in the world but she was at least satisfied I finally had some.

9-10 years old: Now this is an age where it starts to matter to you also (if only just a little). It's long but has turned puffy and huge and for the life of us we can not figure out why. We decide to cut it short.

11 years old: Hair is still puffy and huge, just short. Also, no boobs yet so once again...that's right....I COULD BE A BOY! Come to think of it, I could have passed as my first crushes twin brother.

At some point during this year my wonderful Aunt introduces me to Mousse. Best. Thing. Ever. Invented. Ever. I am sure I helped fund the founders children's college education.

Photo: Hair in it's Glory Days!

12-15 years old: Struggled with what turned out to be natural curly hair. Fits were thrown. Many, many styles were tried but eventually decided to just let it grow out and thank the gods that the puffiness was gone except on rainy, muggy or windy days. Which mother nature always scheduled on picture days, but I digress.

16-17 years old: A pretty little actress named Julia Roberts made long, curly, big hair popular.Hooray! I hit the jackpot!! I'm finally cool! At least, I thought so.

I then spend the next 17 years buying mousse and good conditioner and loving that I am different from everyone else.

34 years old: The hair looks like I am letting a perm grow out.

Photo:THIS! This is now!
Flippin Straight Hot Mess!!

35 years old: I cut it all off thinking the weight was making it too heavy to curl.
35 1/2 years old: I sit down in the most talented woman in the worlds chair.

"I would like you to trim it and put long layers in it. I want to come back in a month for a trim one more time and then a month after that I want you to perm it." I say. Not completely discouraged because I have a plan.

"Ok" she says.

She does everything I ask. Then begins to blow dry it, I think to myself that's ok, I know she likes to break out the straightener when I come to visit her. When she is done blow drying it, she turns me around to face the mirror and there sits that 8 year old girl.

"But you haven't touched it with the iron!" I am shocked.

"I know." she isn't shocked.

We then plan to have me spend the next two months seeing if I like this. The thing is...I do...when she does it! But if she isn't willing to move in with me so that she can do it every morning, I'm going to lose my flippin mind. I have had major tantrums (the childish kind). I've broken the picture that hangs up in the bathroom trying to get the brush untangled from my hair. Once I tripped over the blow dryer cord after it wrapped itself around the knobs on the cabinet a few times. My once 15 minute routine of shampoo, condition, comb, mousse and go has turned into an almost 2 hour ordeal that ends in a ponytail. I HATE IT! I type that while stomping my feet!! Stupid, stupid hair!

It's been a while...

I have decided I am gypsy. I don't know if I was born this way or maybe it was because as a younger child I was a military brat. All I do know is that I get this incredible itch to pack boxes and start all over about once a year. I figure the only cure is to maybe start a moving company or seek therapy. Possibly both, so that one can pay for the other.

It is the number one reason buying a home makes me all hyperventilate-y!

We are pretty much sitting on go...having painting parties every night this week and a few finishing touches here and there and then the settling in begins! I'm exhausted but very excited. I will have to post all the colors! My person told the grumpy teen I was trying to live in a jigsaw puzzle. I think maybe I'm trying to cure the gypsy-ism by making myself feel I am in a different room every time I turn around....we shall see.

Just a thought...Is there a special job for thinking up paint color names? I think I would like that job....

A tiny "deep breath and move on" moment....

I needed to escape for a little while tonight. Lucy and my person decided that a windowless jeep ride to some little place they love for a couple of beers was in order. It is a wonderful thing to have people who always seem to know just what you need, or maybe they needed it too. Either way its good to have be warned this post is heartfelt but a beer induced kind of heartfelt.

I would like to thank the bestie (I have referred to him as the ex-bestie in earlier blogs, but he isn't. He will be my bestie until the day I die.) for teaching me how a person should be loved. For teaching me that I am worth being loved that way. For teaching me that it's ok to want that kind of love and to not accept anything less. I hope that you have found the person that will love you this way and that you are their one, because you of all people in this world deserve it. Know that there is someone always rooting for you.

To all other blog readers if you have found this kind of love. Hold on and don't let go. It is a hard thing to find, my friends. I think I will take my broken heart to bed, sleep off these few beers and continue my search tomorrow. Hopefully I wont wake up and feel the need to delete this post and thank God for spellcheck! It is your friend!

Here we go...

This week the Bug has found her...I can not find the words...give me a second...I will say whatever I want so I can hurt you because you are my mother voice, for lack of a better term. I have been preparing myself for this, but yeah...

On Wednesday night she put my dining room chair through the plasma television. Since she can't move the couch or chair in the living room she uses a dining room chair when she is playing the Wii.

Me: "I have told you a thousand times to stop making the chair rock. Now stop before you break your arm, or worse the chair."

Bug: "Funny, mom."

Me: "I do not have the money to replace it when you break it! I'm not trying to be funny!"

Bug: "The table has scratches on it anyway. A new one would be good."

This does not phase me. She is typically a smart @$$. (ha! Like my mother can't figure symbols out. It makes me feel more respectful, don't judge!)

Me: "Stop it or you can sit on the floor!"

I will warp us to 2 hours later in the evening. A hysterical Bug comes in my room crying the chair finally fell over and through the TV. I politely ask her to go to her room. I then call her dad and inform him in a raving lunatic rage that I am going to kill her. He says that even though a deduction in child support payments would be nice, he can't allow this and somewhat calms me down.

The next night I give her her sentence and she completely loses it. I mean full blown crazy. I will just do a nutshell version for you.


The last part throws me but I do not let her know this...

Me: "Good. It means I'm doing my job right."


Me: "No you're not."


Me: "Can you fold a load of clothes first?" (Sidenote: I slept with my bedroom door locked and haven't decided if I will be getting rid of the kitchen knives or not.)

She runs up to her room, slamming her door and proceeds to makes sounds resembling a howling dog until she falls asleep. I call my mother and apologized for every hateful thing I said to her when I was a kid.

In her defense she did come to me the next day and apologize saying she didn't mean it. I accepted and told her she is most certainly allowed to hate me, it will be natural over the next few years, but the next time she says it out loud she will be grounded until Hannah Montana (c'mon I had to use a reference she would understand, there you go judging again!) had grandchildren.

Conversation over dinner...

I made spaghetti and meatballs tonight and I DIDN'T MESS ANYTHING UP! GO ME! Alright, on to the real story...let me set the scene...

I have finished eating and while the kids are finishing up, I'm wiping things down, putting things away...yadda, yadda, I'm throwing something in the garbage can the entire trash bag folds into itself and falls to the bottom of the can. I say to the kids...

"The next time I buy trash bags that aren't Grippers (much love to the Hefty inventor of this product!), slap me! Well, unless we are poor." (some weeks we struggle more than others...sigh)

The bug pipes in "Wait, if we aren't poor...why are we eating spaghetti?"

I just look at her.

The grumpy teen answers "Ummm...normal people eat cooked meals all the time. Normal people do not eat McDonalds four nights a week."

I just look at him.

After deciding not to throw meatballs in their eyes and start a massive food fight (because I would have to clean it up, otherwise "It's on like Donkey Kong" comes to mind), while shouting "NORMAL KIDS WOULD NOT COMPLAIN ABOUT EATING MCDONALDS!!" (where did I go wrong), I shake my head and go load the dishwasher.

I will now add teach the kid the value of a dollar to my To-Do list and try not to dwell on the possibility they were both switched at birth...

The brain has left the building!

I HAVE BLOGGERS BLOCK! I can't think of a single thing to blog about. I'm not sure why...maybe not enough "interesting" going on right now. I leave work with a brain that feels like if I try and make it work one more second, it will decide to go on strike. Leaving me a vegetable while it walks the picket line. I am imagining a brain with legs and a picket sign that reads: WTF?

I wish I could draw! That would be an awesome picture.

I'm preparing to move to a new apartment. Packing doesn't require brain power but it doesn't make for good blog topics either. Bubble wrap or Styrofoam peanuts? that would go over well. Maybe when things settle down I will find something interesting to be random about...

*FYI...bubble wrap OWNS Styrofoam peanuts. Hands down! I want some!

Nails and Texts

So one of the sisters and I went to have a couple of hours of pampering this past weekend. Manicures and Pedicures, BABY! Surprising enough, there are times that I act like a girl, despite what my maintenance MAN attire at work might otherwise have you believe. Anyway, a running joke with the sisters is what might these lovely Asian ladies be saying while they shluff (this is my made up word) the dead skin off our feet since they decide to speak in their native language? Maybe they are talking about the weather, or maybe one of their children made Honor Roll, could be about a recipe they tried for dinner last night, or that they slept like crap. However, what if they are saying "This woman needs some Trident" or "I don't think she has ever heard of lotion." or "Why in the world is she wearing flip-flops? She should hide these puppies!". Very disturbing really, but something worth going through for the end product.

So on this particular day I am getting a pedicure and the sister is getting, I don't know, it's something called acrylics, so we do not get to sit beside each other. They are pretty slammed so while my feet are soaking in the bubbly blue water, I'm flipping through a magazine, the sister is across the room soaking her hands in something or other (please note that I am sometimes a girl, so terminology on such matters isn't my strong suit and sure I could go look it up but then I wouldn't be being myself now would I?) and of course I flip to a page that I must tell her about so I decide to text. She gets it and laughs and replies, I read it, look at her and laugh and the lady rubbing on my feet looks at me like she really wants to know what is going on and I swear I see the imaginary light bulb go off and then have to text the sister again to tell her..."TEXT MESSAGES ARE LIKE THEIR SECRET FOREIGN LANGUAGE! Do you think she is wondering if I'm texting you about her bad breath or if she files my skin instead of toenail one more time I might kick her?" Not good when the shoe (or fake foamy flip-flop I should say) is on the other foot now is it???

Note: I absolutely love the work the people that run this shop do. And appreciate greatly the shluffing (I need to use that word more) that they do!

Another note: Sigh, on occasion I have to leave blog-land and do things in the real world so this blog is a little past due and didn't actually happen this past weekend. It was more like three weekends ago.

Photo provided by Flickr user Indanile

Nightmares and fluffy beds..

I woke up at 3:30 am. Another nightmare. They seem to be getting worse. I was myself but also watching myself. It was like I knew in my dream I was dreaming. The thing is above me, but I'm not afraid as I usually am. I am trying to kick and scream and fight back, but failing miserably because the kicks are in slooooooooooooow motion and the screams sound like when I was a kid trying to see if a friend could understand me underwater at the pool. When I was awake enough to realize the ceiling fan wasn't trying to send me Morse code messages (no I do not use drugs) and that Tucker was only making his normal grumpy old dog noises and not warning me of a ghost outside my bedroom door (not even over the counter drugs), I decided it was probably not a good idea to wake my mother up at that hour. The Bug did get to come sleep with me though. It had nothing to do with me thinking my 11 year old could scare away the bad stuff and everything to do with I thought she would love to sleep in the "its fluffier than mine" bed. That's my story and I'm sticking to it...

Pucker up, Baby!

Haven't felt like blogging lately. Things have been crazy around here, but instead of wanting to pull my hair out, I have had other done-up manes in mind. It is in my experience that one should lay low when in these moods. However, I have found a reason to come out of hiding. Sitting in the pedicure chair last week (wait until that blog...yeah), I was flipping through a magazine when I came upon this little nugget of creamy lip goodness! I will be honest here and say that it was the whole egg concept that made me become scavenger like in my search for one. You see...I am a package person. An advertisers dream. I once bought what I thought was Windex because they put it in a new clear container, with clear liquid, and pretty new words. It was so pretty I didn't even read the words which read something along the lines of Tilex Fresh Shower Daily Cleaner. Ummm, I have to make myself clean my shower once a week. I think not, on the once a day crap. Anyway, back on track...The egg balm! They call it a sphere. I will not conform, it will be known across the world (or at least my little world) as EGG balm! I like the shape for one other is much easier to find while digging at the bottom of my purse, unlike the traditional chapsticks. It comes in two flavors: Sweet Mint and Summer Fruit. I, of course, loving all things summer bought the latter for myself and Sweet Mint for the Bug. I think I won a few cool mom points, even though while applying you look like you might be practicing the application of clown lipstick. It is a must try, folks. You will not be disappointed.

Cowboy Boots and Superman...

* Warning: Mom, you will need to overlook a few words. Substitutes would have ruined the mood.

Knowing that I would be visiting a country bar on my road trip, I borrowed a pair of boots from a friend who got a pair for her recent birthday. (She is one of those cool people who may care a lot about her boots, but cares more about how awesome an outfit can turn out, so she gladly gave them up for the cause!) She has worn them out to a few of our excursions, but Ive never really understood her fascination with them. Until....

I put one on, then the other and BAM!! I am sure this is the feeling Superman feels when he rips off his button down and glasses in the phone booth. I stepped out of my phone booth (it was actually the hotel bathroom, but indulge me) feeling HAWT and ready to kick some shit. Only die-hard rednecks will understand the shit-kicking reference. Since I will have to give them back, because she knows where I live, I see a trip to the local hee-haw store in my future. I'm thinking boots and plaid button down. You think a cowboy hat (minus any weird feathers) would be too much?

Road Trip!!

I was asked to join a friend on a trip to to run an errand she had to take care of in the town she used to live in. It was about a six hour trip there and then six hours back (turned in to a little longer on the way back because of hauling a trailer, potholes and one wrong turn) the next day. I said yes, I would love to because of the company and because she had every detail planned for the trip. I say that last part was a factor because usually I am the one who has to plan trips and be the detail person and then end up being called bossy! Needless to say, I jumped at the chance to pack my suitcase and just tag-a-long. It was a wonderful 2 days!

We got on the road pretty early Saturday morning, drove two hours and had a very nice breakfast with bottomless cups of hot chocolate and overdue catching up. Denny's (do not scrunch up your face and make ewww sounds, it was good I tell ya!) gets two thumbs up for the bigger than my head bowl of grits and that they add whipped cream to the top of your hot chocolate, even the refill cups!

We drive two more hours and stop at Opryland Mills Mall and I know there is a mall out there that is so big that it has a roller coaster on the inside BUT this mall must be given credit also for it is no average mall! It is HUGE! Made a few bargain price purchases, had some lunch, then back on the road.

Two hours later after driving through some beautiful mountains we are at the hotel and proceed to get ready for the evening of fun my traveling host has planned. We meet up with her friend at the book store she used to work for (where I was still unable to track down the book that the grouchy teen has been asking for, I honestly think it doesn't exist and he has sent me on a wild goose chase for his amusement) and then *Please see sidenote at end of blog or scroll down now for random sidetrack goodness.* head to dinner. We all agreed on Outback because I have never been to one. I know, I know. And, no, I have not been hiding under a rock. It was an alright place. The food was very chain steakhouse quality but their "Wallaby Darned" beverage was....make straw slurping noises because there is none left...GOOD! I will google the recipe! After dinner it is off to Cotton Eye Joe's. No, I did not misspell or mispronounce it. We pull into the EXTREMELY crowded parking lot only to be greeted by a cowboy on a horse directing us where to park. We show ID, are ushered to the pay station which, THAT'S RIGHT, is a bar! Would you like a beer with that hand stamp? Then walk into the biggest country bar I have ever stepped foot in. The dance floor is the size of the downstairs of my apartment. Cowboys and their girls are everywhere! This place is so setting a "mood" that it even has a mechanical bull! (Must fight the urge to be Sissy from Urban Cowboy) All that was missing was peanut hulls all over the floor, which I might send them a letter to suggest. Several 2 Steps, 5 Steps, Tush Pushes and Cotton Eye Joes later (none of which I participated in because I was not so smart and brought in my purse because I assumed I was going to a tiny place like we have at home) we call it a night because it is errand time in a few hours! I had a great time and have several "sub" blogs coming up because of this little get away! Thanks, traveling host for the introductions to your great friends, long conversations and new experiences!

*Sidenote: Every time I say those two little words, I cant help but think of and then !

Wanna Be Rock STARS....

I CAN NOT STOP PLAYING THE ROCK BAND! (Wii version) I get that microphone in my hand and I become obsessed! The grouchy teen plays drums and The Bug switches between guitar and bass. I, of course, am lead vocals AND backup vocals!! I can not decide if I want to be Freddie Mercury or Paul McCartney. You'd think this would be an easy choice seeing as how one had panties thrown at him, while the other probably wore panties, but I tell ya, Mr. Freddie knew how to belt one out! The Bug got a little peeved when she wanted to have her turn at singing but I insisted that there was room for only one star in a band! We have come to an agreement that for two hours on Sundays we switch roles, for even a ROCK STAR must teach her children to share!

I bid you all a good night as I rest my voice and plot how to convince the band mates that they do not need to sit beside me (they claim they need to see the notes on the TV...pfft) that REAL drummers and guitarists play BEHIND the singer. Sleep well, folks!

The Whistler...

As an apartment leasing person I deal with a great deal of crazy. There is the man who decided to bring his broken toilet seat and plop it on my desk. No, it was not clean. There are the girls who had a penis drawn on the outside of their bathroom window, which I discovered because I was visiting a tenant who I was trying to school on the appropriate amount of laundry detergent to put into her stackable NOT full size washer. I have my favorite tenant (she has recently moved because she bought a home...I miss her) who officially decided to take the D out of my name and replace it with another N. She is also the tenant who locked herself in her upstairs bedroom and was only rescued by waving the security guard down as he passed by on rounds! Oooo or the woman who wants me to make it a rule to not allow people to park backwards in their parking spots because the exhaust fumes may leak through the windows. The one who answers his door in his underwear or the one who stands entirely too close to you when you have to be round him but I have officially found one that has my imagination on overload...

The Whistler. I can hear him coming before he swaggers through the door because he is ALWAYS whistling. I'm going to have to pay more attention to the tune he whistles but it creeps me out. Alfred Hitchcock comes to mind. To further prove how warped my imagination is....he lives here through the week while he works then travels out of state on the weekend to be with his family. YEAH! Tell me this isn't the perfect set up for a serial killer!! It makes me want to go all Scooby Doo on him and look for skeletons in his pantry! I may or may not wear a cute toboggan and matching gloves (dark colors of course), sunglasses and all black to investigate. I wonder if I can get a funny sidekick to tag along?

Mr. King, Drumsticks and cat naps...

...make for the best Sundays, I tell ya! I woke up early thinking I might brave the iced over streets and go see what was new in the mall but ended up staying in. I picked up the newest Stephen King book last week and I must say I am hooked as he is always able to make me. Even with his over use of giant, unnecessary words he truly amuses me! Humor and spookiness cant go wrong in my opinion.

It being cold outside did not stop me from having my ice cream fix today. Nope, it did not! Drumsticks! Heaven on a sugar cone. I have actually had two today. Yes, I said two. One for breakfast and one as I type. It is quite funny trying to catch the little nuts before they fall into the keyboard! Ha!

Getting up early, called for a nap somewhere amidst all the reading and ice cream. As I stretched in front of the bedroom window, sprawled out in the sun, I imagined this is how a fat, sassy cat I used to own felt. Yep, a relaxing good Sunday can lift the spirits and who doesn't need that every now and then? Something to daydream about while this week drags itself out...

Unquenchable thirst....

It appears that the books I have immersed myself in, the magazines I claim keep me hip and in the know, the backs of cereal boxes for the newest jokes, writings on the bathroom walls that tell me who to call for a good time, picture stories and even the stories in the Bug's English book are not filling the need. My newest sites. I can not get enough of them. I read them on lunch breaks (because I would never read them while working, dad and uncles), when the sandman refuses to visit, even tonight when my plans were cancelled because of the weather I wasn't too disappointed (sorry to my lovely friend I had plans with, our rain check is the only reason I wasn't terribly devastated, love and hugs!) because it meant the two or three blogs I discovered this afternoon no longer had to wait until my next free moment. However, I have looked at the clock, slapped the forehead and won't even mention the things I was suppose to get done after the 15 minutes I had originally allotted myself to read.
There is something about reading them that fascinates me. Friends, family members, even complete strangers have me so engrossed in their day to day thoughts and ideas. I have tried to contemplate why I find it so intriguing versus my other reading material...Could it be that I am reading about real people? Yes, the names and numbers on bathroom stalls are real too, but whether or not they are a good time is still up in the air. These people I read, however, are very much a good time. Well, at least my mind thinks I'm off to read more on the girl scout cookie addict!

Note: The photo attached was found on Flickr posted by the user overthemoon . I'm not sure if I'm allowed to do that, it is something I have to google the rules about but it remains on that things I was suppose to get done list!

Rights of Passage...

My children. Him 16, Her 11. Ohhh, the bickering I must endure. I think a gift I have been given is that I remember being a child, so I tend to understand what my two are feeling or going through most of the time and I never, ever forget that it is their right of passage to go through these things. So, I allow them to bicker. I do so with the age old trick parents inherit...tuning out, yet still being slightly aware. Examples: Reading a book while they are bouncing a ball through the living room, picking up your tea glass before said ball knocks it over while never missing a sentence in said book. Or, video game being played so loud the dog has his paws over his ears but the only thing you hear because you are cooking dinner is the $50 controller hitting the ground because the controller's operator died to the monster.

"Would you like to get a job, operator of the controller? No? Then have some respect!" I say this with my mean mother face! I secretly love making that face (it is "my" right of passage)!

My point being, I allow them to bicker with a few ground rules and my age old parenting trick always working. I sometimes even play along. Yes. I do! Don't judge me!!

I mean who can resist:

"Something smells!" one of the children say.

"Your face smells!" loving mother replies.

It truly makes me giggle!

However, there are a few classics that just don't work:

"Mom, you are the weirdest!" the 16 year old says.

"Your momma!" I reply stopping in mid stroll because I realize what I have just said!

Hysterical laughter from both children begin.

"See." he can barely get out from laughing so hard.

I refrain from mumbling crap to myself on my way to my room because at least for one tiny moment the bickering has seized while they join forces to make fun of their mother.

Fictional Characters and Time Management..

I went to see a movie this weekend that was so very funny! However, it got me to thinking...

I've seen movie after movie with leading ladies who can do it all. I mean they run companies or restaurants or write a column in a newspaper/magazine. They do this and make fabulous meals with dishes Ive never even heard of let alone try and cook. They raise their children, have immaculate homes, make flower arrangements from the clippings in their yards, go to the gym or yoga classes, grow their own vegetables, remodel their bathrooms all while never having a hair out of place.

For the last month I have been trying to paint my sons room. When it fits my schedule he hasn't cleaned it. When he has cleaned it, it doesn't fit my schedule.

When will they make a movie about a mother who barely gets by? The mother who got up, showered with her eyes half open, put the unruly hair in a ponytail, worked all day doing mundane tasks while dealing with cranky windbags, then goes home throws some pizza rolls in the oven, because one of the kids has a science project due tomorrow and they just told her this morning, has to run to the local store because apparently the dog decided to munch on the last glue stick, chunks the dinner dishes in the dishwasher, praying it will get the crap off she didn't feel like rinsing, return a few phone calls to people she is scared have made voo-doo dolls of her because she has neglected them so much lately, sees the dusty treadmill in the corner but figures the 14 million times she climbed up and down the stairs was a good enough workout, go upstairs to finally take a shower, see the bed, fall on it, wake up at the last minute the next morning to do it all over again. Yeah what about THAT kind of mother??

Rant over...I think I will work on my time management skills this week. I will let you know how it goes.

Bears and Twinkle Lights

There is something about this part of the year that makes me understand why bears hibernate. After the refreshing warm breezes of Spring, the outside water activities and bbqs of Summer and the beautiful colors of Fall....there is Winter. Winter (which isn't so bad in the beginning because though everything looks dead there are still the twinkle lights of Christmas) is ugly! This area doesn't get beautiful snow, just dead trees and grass. It isn't even February yet and already pretty patterned scarves and matching gloves aren't doing it for me. I NEED MORE TWINKLE! I'm in a funk. A big one. It is making me extremely grumpy. I feel like I'm scowling all the time and my spirit and imagination are being crushed and my creative juices are frozen by bone chilling cold winds! I dream of flip-flops, hot dogs on the grill, car rides with the windows down, dipped cones that ACTUALLY MELT! I will stop venting now....but grrrrrrrrr!

Goodbye, my giant red shoe wearing clown friend....

....I shall miss you terribly. I shall miss your fried until they are the perfect shade of gold fries. I shall miss the toasted sesame seed buns on my "treat yourself" Big Mac days. I shall miss creamy chocolaty chocolate shakes. I shall miss that sweet tasting "pretending you are Chick-fil-A" southern chicken sandwich with the little pickle. I shall miss the 10:30 in the morning freshly made because breakfast is no longer being served cheeseburgers. I shall miss your crunchy two bite chicken mcnuggets with BBQ dipping sauce. I shall miss sweet tea with the perfect combination of ice in that non-sweating Styrofoam cup. I shall miss the concern on your drive thru employees faces when they haven't seen me in a few days....

Do not cry for me, my redheaded someone should have shown you how to apply lipstick friend, for in a few months when I can wear pretty "little" summer dresses maybe you will be nothing but a fond memory as I wave at your golden arches when I drive by.

Sidenote: My official goodbye is not until this Sunday so if you see me pulling out of the parking lot between now and then there is no need to scold.