The Time Has Come...

... The Walrus Said.....

Time to turn on word verification.

I thought I was getting some "don't treat your child like a dog" comments and I was getting all ready to rock-em-sock-em robot and maybe drop the f-bomb a couple of times.... but no.... nothing but love, support and a few ads for Hurricane Katrina bloggers and weight loss.

Weight loss?!?! Well, there's the hate I was looking for.....

Next thing you know... I'll be using Flea Shampoo on him....

I loved all the harness comments. I’ve really been thinking about it and here is what I’ve come up with…

1. Yes, of course, it is about Sweet Boy’s safety. But it isn’t ALL about his safety. It is also about convenience for me. I admit it. I hate fighting with him to stay in the stroller when he really wants to stand behind the stroller and push it. I’d rather let him push the stroller but know he is connected to me in case he starts to wander away.

2. Sweet Boy doesn’t like to hold hands in public places. (Just like a man, I know.) He views hand-holding as an excellent reason to throw himself towards the earth. Call it an experiment in physics and gravity. Very educational, yes, but it might be difficult to explain the dislocated shoulder (really, he throws himself at the ground so dramatically) to the ER attending as a science project. And, again with the selfish mommy thing…. I’m tall. He’s short. Trying to hold his hand for long periods of time is uncomfortable for both of us.

3. I don’t buy the whole “it is demeaning to treat your child like a dog” theory. For one thing, my dog is treated like royalty. He has nicer toys, better treats and fancier shampoo than any other member of the family. Issues of manners, control and restraint are for his safety and happiness…. I’m ok with applying that theory to my child too.

4. And if you really want to make that point…. Criticize me when my child is eating dog food, chasing cats & playing in the dog waterer.

5. Note that he responds to the commands sit, stay and foot, please.

6. Am I ready to handle the stares, comments and criticisms of perfect strangers? Back to dog analogies…this is a long one….. when Gunnar was a young dog I lived in Boulder, Colorado. (PC capitol of the world) Gunnar is half Jack Russell terrier which means he has a strong neck designed for shaking rats to death. This means taking him on a leash and expecting him to be responsive to normal “collar rules” is unreasonable so I bought a “haltee” dog halter. It looks kinda like a tiny horse halter and works by tipping the dog’s nose down when you pull on it rather than by trying to restrain them from the neck. Neat. Works like a charm. No more sore arms from sawing on Gunnar’s neck trying to get him to heel. No more listening to him make choking, wheezing sounds while he tries to drag me along. (The dog thought I was the slowest human on earth and that he was doing me a favor by dragging me places.) The haltee has some other unintended but interesting results…. People wouldn’t let children come up to my dog because they thought it was a muzzle. Anyone who criticized me for muzzling my dog or for taking a dog who required a muzzle to a public place was told that, indeed, the dog could still bite them…. Get a little closer and test the theory out. It didn’t really bother me because I think people should in general assume a strange dog will bite their child and proceed accordingly. I was more than happy to explain the contraption was actually very humane to anyone who seemed genuinely concerned for Gunnar’s welfare. I can’t count the number of times I had to show concerned but unobservant individuals that, yes, the dog can actually pant & drink while wearing the haltee. Just another example of how being a dog owner prepared me for parenthood.

7. I hate to brag (oh, you know I’m lying…) but the kid is advanced…..well, he’s physically advanced. The prehensile lizard brain…the one that has all the preservation instincts…. It isn’t so well developed. He loves to run. Playing “chase” is a fun game and Sweet Boy doesn’t understand the concept of “dangerous” places yet and, honestly, I’m in no rush for him to learn that lesson.

8. It doubles as a backpack. That means he can carry his own snacks & sippy cup & sunscreen stick. How cool is that?? I promise right now to not let it become my purse…. I vow I will not put my wallet, lip gloss or sunglasses in Sweet Boy’s backpack.

9. I’ve really been thinking about appropriate situations for child restraint. I don’t plan on tethering him to the clothes line any time soon… although radiator installation plans are in the works so I will have something to chain him too when he is a teenager. I don’t think a leash is a replacement for proper supervision… but I do think it might work out the next time we are in a large crowded place.

10. Hello?!?! Where's the hate? Surely someone has something negative to say? Come on. Bring it. I need to hear the criticism as well as the support. Although, of course, if you present the criticism in a nasty manner I promise to be nasty right back.... it will be fun.

Mother of the Year again....

Do you think it means I'm a bad parent if I'm considering getting a leash (disguised as a puppy dog backpack) for my child?

For Greenie....

Greenie- (I was going to post this last week and then I didn't because I didn't want to sound like a know-it-all-wanna-be but then I realized I sound like that all the time anyway so why not?)

Ok, these are some thoughts for Greenthumb. He has a great blog, great pictures and great eyebrows. Check him out.

Greenie is so thoughtful and sweet and sincere that just reading his blog makes you want to do things to help him… so for fear of being called an assvicist, here goes….

Nick’s back pain: I can offer some empathy & sympathy. I have two metal rods in my upper back and I used to have migraines and back pain all the time. Then I discovered Dr. Nick Soloway (da-da-da… that’s fanfare playing in the background). He does a combination of acupuncture, chiro & deep tissue work. I hate to sound cultish, but he’s a fraggin’ miracle worker. You need him. Or someone like him.


Valley Farms does a thing that combines coffee and gardening. They teach classes on Saturday mornings and offer Morning Light coffee and cookies. Sweet Boy loves their ginger snaps.

And State Nursery (or High Country Growers?) might be for sale again here in Helena. You could buy it and move here and I will buy all my plants from you. Yeah. Good idea.

And a career in photography & writing. Consider checking out the Washington Art’s Council website. Artist professional development and marketing are hot topics nationally right now.

Because Susan said too....

From Susan

Number of books I have owned: Eleventy-million.

Last book I bought: Who Pooped in the Park? Really. Truly. A great book if you have a little woodsbaby like mine…. Or if you are just looking for an easy way to offend the delicate sensibilities of the local ladies’ auxiliary.

Last book I completed: Ok, I confess…. I get the Dear Reader emails and, lately, that’s how I’ve been deciding what to read…. So the last thing I read was THE MOLD IN DR. FLOREY'S COAT by Eric Lax.

Five books that mean a lot to me:
Old Turtle
Wilderness Medical Guide
The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul
A Wrinkle in Time
Tales from Margaritaville

I am so shallow. I will now crawl back under my redneck rock and not reimerge until I have read something with great depth and meaning to better myself and others. Amen.

Lava & Other Hot Things

Truly.... nothing gets off ground-in soot like Lava....and Hot Stuff will actually have a "fire tan" of soot on his legs between his socks and his panties (ok, he will get even with me for calling them "panties" and for the record he usually wears those cutie-pie boxer-briefs).

And can I add how fraggin' sexy those piercing icy-green eyes are in a soot-covered face? Rugged, gorgeous man in fire pants & big black boots. ROWR.

How many women do you know that get turned on by a man who smells & tastes like a bbq potato chip?

I smell a campfire and my panties start gettin' wet... I swear.

Kittens and condiments

Oops. Look like I already posted the pickled kitten story.... you people really should be reading my archives... there's some funny shit in there.

I'm a Pink Toothbrush...*

We’ve been having a few hygiene issues at our house…. Now wait a minute, don’t get ahead of me here…. This is not about the bar of Lava soap in our shower (don’t ask…it’s a firefighter thing). It is about our toothbrushes… specifically, my new dark purple toothbrush.

My new dark purple toothbrush that my husband can’t tell apart from his blue toothbrush.

Now, it wouldn’t bother me except every time I walk into the bathroom when he is brushing he immediately looks panicked and quickly puts whichever toothbrush he is using back in the holder…. I’m worried I’m stunting his oral hygiene.

This chapter is titled “Living with a Colorblind Spouse” and can be found in my new book called If this is Normal, Bring on the Crazy.

*Recognize the title? Were you a child of the 1970's who grew up listening to Smurf records? Yup, that's vintage Smurfing Sing Song.

Update on the shooting thing.

Ok. I was being a little dramatic. The guy wasn’t shooting directly at them but they didn’t know that at the time. According to Hot Stuff, it was just like in the movies… duck and cover and running crouched over from cover spot to cover spot.

Hubby seems to be fine (I checked him carefully) and I’m not suffering PTSD in any measurable form….. although he did wake me up last night because I was sleeping on top of him and I had a dream about being trapped in a fun house and I couldn’t get to him or Sweet Boy.

And truly, the thing about highway patrol and wildland firefighters for the state of Montana was not a typo… they don’t get hazard pay. Even though highway patrol officers are often in VERY sketchy situations and firefighters deal with meth labs (exploding and/or the hostile and paranoid manufacturers) and burnt dead tree snags (they don’t call them widowmakers for nothin’) and well, the possibility of being burnt of course. But whatcha gonna do? Just like many professions, most people outside of the industry have no idea what is involved.

Oh, and I was very disappointed when I blingoed “fucking Governor Brian Schweitzer” and my blog wasn’t there….. I wonder what “pickled kittens” will get me…. (I promise that story is coming… if I can get the PETA people to stop calling me….)

Hazard Fucking Pay

Subtitle: My husband got shot at this weekend and it wasn’t by me….

Do you know the movie Clerks? When the guy keeps saying, “But I wasn’t even supposed to work today….” That was Sunday.

I got a phone call around 8:45 pm from my sister. She said, “Don’t worry. Your husband is fine.” I expected her to finish with, “But he went to the bar with the boys…” or something like that…. Instead I hear, “No one was injured in the shooting.”

What the Fuck?

Now would someone please tell fucking Governor Brian Schweitzer* that our state wildland firefighters (and highway patrol… the fraggin’ highway patrol doesn’t get hazard pay….) should have hazard pay.

*I apologize to anyone who was googling “fucking Governor Brian Schweitzer” for personal reasons… you are a sick fuck, but welcome to my blog anyway…..

Yellow.

Lala emailed me yesterday to tell me today is Yellow Day for kindergarten so I quickly emailed her back with a list of possible items Big could take to demonstrate yellow.....

bananas.
sunshine.
jaundice.
post-it notes.
pencils.
m&m's. (I volunteer to eat the reject colors.)
yellow-bellied cowards.
lemon jello jigglers. (mmm. with vodka....)
lemonade.
sunflowers.
daisy middles.
dog pee.
lemon meringue pie.
lemon sorbet.
lemon-scent pledge bottles. (are they really yellow?)
soft-scrub with lemon lids.
smiley faces.
Hershey's syrup lids.
butter.

She said I will be an excellent kindergarten mom. So there.

Antiques

So, I was cleaning my fridge today.... and I realized something... it has METAL drawers.... do you know what that means? That's right. Vintage.

So then I was sweeping the laundry room and I looked at the energy efficiency tag on the hot water heater..... they estimated it assuming propane cost less than 75 cents a gallon. Propane is now close to $1.40/gal. Again... vintage.

Sigh.

Addendum

Add to the budget a line item for this.... the new line of brassieres by Apple.

Budget.

Sigh. Big, heavy, drawn-out sigh. Sigh.

I have a plan. Total World Domination in 30 hours a week. Good plan, huh? I want to cut my 40 hours a week back to 30 hours a week…. And still afford the little things like food and fuel and toilet bowl cleaner and stuff.

I could say I want my son to go to daycare to develop social skills. He is learning how to interact with other kids. He is learning to take instructions from adults other than his parents. It is good for his immune system to be exposed to all those other little germs. I could tell you a million reasons (besides needing to get paid to buy toilet paper) for putting my son in daycare. Noble reasons. Reasons that justify that “I just left my favorite pony tied to the front door of the glue factor” sinking feeling I have when I leave him. And, for the most part, I believe some of those reasons.

But the reality? I won’t kid you….. I don’t have the patience or strength of character to be a full-time stay-at-home mom. I rely entirely too much on my daycare lady (DCL). She rocks. She tells me how much applesauce makes up a serving of fruit. She knows all the rules about nutrition and child care and discipline and she knows when to bend them. She has ideas and suggestions when I need them. She tells me my child is brilliant and a delight to be around (really, she says that, really….). She doesn’t care if I (or any member of my immediate extended family) drop in unannounced. She reads to Sweet Boy. She pushes him on the swing and takes him for walks and lets him help her feed the chickens. Her house is really clean. The playroom is orderly and the kids practice their “nice manners” while they eat lunch. Her husband is nice. I’ve met her kids and they are intelligent and well-adjusted and that makes me feel good. She feeds Sweet Boy breakfast and lunch and snacks. A lot of the food he eats comes from her garden. She washes his pacifiers in the dishwasher and when he blows out an outfit she washes it for me…. And gets the stains out. All I do is provide diapers and wipes and an occasional bottle of sunscreen.

Oh, but wait…. I’m got off on a little tangent bragging about how great my DCL is…. Sorry. Back to the money whining. (Gosh, that does seem to be a lot of what I blog about… alternating between bragging & whining… interesting.)

So I would like to change my schedule to 3 days in the office per week and a small amount of telecommuting to get my total hours worked to 30. I think, from a work standpoint, it can be done. The tricky part is making it work with our budget. Things are slim around here. I’ve been working on it and playing around with the numbers this week. Of course, the only conclusion I came too was that I need to buy Quicken to manage my money-management. Any brilliant suggestions? Anyone have a money tree growing in their backyard and want to send me a branch? Please don’t suggest I get involved in a pyramid scheme or find a sugar daddy…. Those ideas have already been considered and rejected…. (Although I’m still considering producing children for profit… I come from good stock and make cute babies… I bet I could do pretty well on the black market.)

All by Myself

All by Myself
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

Yes, this is my son at age 14 months. Yes, he did climb the fence by himself. Yes, he does have a giant bruise on his head. Yes, he is wearing a surfer-dude shirt. Any questions?

Fruit Dip

I'm in love with this dip.

1 (8 oz) pkg cream cheese
½ c sour cream
¼ c sugar
¼ c brown sugar
1-2 TBS maple syrup

Mix until smooth, chill & serve with fresh fruit.

Mojito

Oh, this recipe brings back good memories.....

Mojito recipe
(courtesy of Peter Held, former Executive Director, Holter Museum)

1.5 oz Barbenbourt Estate Reserve (15yr.) rum or any good white rum
1.5 oz white sugar or Gurapro (sugar cane juice)
fresh mint
mineral water, San Pellegrino is good water
fresh lime or lime juice to taste

Put sugar in glass, then crush 2 sprigs of fresh mint. Add rum, water, lime. Turn on salsa music and have some fun.

Rhubarb Slushy

Here's a recipe for all that random rhubarb you have....

Makes 1 gallon
From Cousin S

8 c rhubarb in ½” chunks
2 quarts water
2 ½ c lemon juice
3 c sugar
1 pkg strawberry jello (small)
4 c vodka

Cook rhubarb in water until soft and mushy (20 min). Put mush in strainer. Save juice. Throw away pulp. Mix in lemon juice, sugar, jello & vodka. Mix & freeze in gallon container. To serve, scoop into glasses and add approx ¼ can pop. (sprite, ginger ale, etc.)

Dwight & Lefty.

Sisters 3 2003
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

18 gears & an airhorn.... what could be more fun?

This. This is a Truck.

Driving Truck 2 2003
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

I missed harvest this year.... which makes me kinda sad and just a touch sentimental. This picture is from a few years back. It is hot. It is dusty. The combines are air-conditioned... the trucks are not. That header I am looking at out the window? It is worth more money than I am.... and we are moving.... and the combine driver is dumping wheat in my box. (ha-ha-ha... I just said, "in my box" on the internet.) This truck has a name. All good trucks have a name. This one is called, "The Purple Peter Beater." Why? Well, it was the purple people-beater until my mom made an unfortunate slip of the tongue. She's a rough-riding rig and the cab is directly over the engine which means you can pretty much bake cookies on the console. It runs normally at 300 degrees... I'm not kidding. It is so hot that the dog won't ride with me.... he goes and mooches a ride in the combine.

This set of pictures (what I could load before I hit my flickr limit) has some special meaning to me. See, I had just suffered a miscarriage.... a miscarriage following a long period of trying to get pregnant.... and I was feeling pretty raw. Spending long hours in that old truck staring out at a dusty landscape was soothing to me somehow. It helped heal me. Healing comes in many shapes and forms. Here's hoping that, if you need it, you find the healing you are looking for... and don't be afraid to look for it in strange places.....

Snack Time

Snack Time
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

This is the fancy rolling snack bar.

This morning I found Sweet Boy's baseball cap in it.

Yesterday morning it was my hair brush.

So, people, now I need suggestions for a new dog food container because I think this one is about to become the toy box.

For Colleen

For Colleen
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

This is for Clobber.... a picture of me in my new shirt in front of my shower curtain.

Hoary Marmot & other swear words….

I recently left a comment on another blogger’s site and used the word “fuck” oh, about eleventy-million times. Sorry LadyBug…. I was a bit worried and the potty-mouth starts spewing when I am stressed, worried or drinking. Some people crave a smoke when they drink… I crave cussing.

I try to rarely vocalize swear words for several reasons. I have a professional image to maintain. I find swearing is much more effective if you don’t do it too often. I have a small parrot-like child and I really don’t want him to be the only kid on the playground dropping the f-bomb.

But welcome to my brain. In my head there are swear words everywhere. Nouns, verbs, adjectives…. Creative swearing, beautiful cursing, explosive cussing. At any given moment the word “fuck” is emblazoned in glowing neon on the walls of my mind.

And I learned from the best. My dad can go on for over 5 minutes without repeating a word. We call them “mfcs-fits” because they almost always start with Mother-Fucker-Cock-Sucker and go on from there. It’s a cultural thing. It has to be. I should apply for a grant to study it as a form of folklore.

My brother does this scary, calm cursing thing. He has this rhythmic, melodious tone and he sounds like the horse-whisperer or something…. It is mesmerizing until you suddenly actually hear the words he is using…. slimy chicken fucker & finger-fuck a flying fish (nice alliteration) are some prime examples. It’s also impressive when he can work some non-swearing descriptive in and make is sound really naughty. Check the comments section… I’m sure he will have something to say.

He. Is. Still. Here.

I bitched and moaned about being a single mom for 14 days…. And then… He. Didn’t. Leave.

Nope.

Severity is too high locally so they didn’t send a crew to western Montana. But he is working until 8:00 most nights so I have plenty of time to get myself into trouble.

Last night I tried to talk myself into buying some expensive skin care products just so I could get the free bonus gift. I failed. But I did manage to leave my purse at the store and get all the way home before I realized it. That was fun. (But the beauty of living here? Not only was my purse still there…. The cash & credit cards were still in it.)

I love living here.

How big is ‘yer spread?

It’s a question you just don’t ask. People raised in a farm or ranch community… true farmers & ranchers…. never ask how many acres you own. Yet this weekend I was asked, not once but twice, how many acres we own. Five-and-a-half-thank-you-very-much. And, yes, we have creekside property. Geez.

I guess if I wanted to be a true brat I could talk about how many acres my family owns… if I had any idea what that number might be. Before you get too excited and start asking me for a low-interest loan or anything let’s all remember that land is some desolate-ass dessert in the middle on north-central Montana. Hot Stuff refers to it as “this god-forsaken fuckin’ frozen tundra” as in, “How many more miles across this god-forsaken fuckin’ frozen tundra do we have to drive to get to town?”

So, just to recap, to fit in around Redneckia… don’t ask how many acres and, for the love of it all, if you are talking to a farmer remember a truck is something you haul grain in and not a little Dodge (Ford, Chevy, Toyota) grocery-getter with a tailgate & chrome bumpers…. That’s a pickup.

Keep in Touch Update…

I posted this and no sooner but Mrs. R was on the phone inviting Sweet Boy & I to dinner…. Who says giving your friends your blog url is a bad thing?

And our receptionist scheduled the second annual sangria party at her house for August 20th so I will get to check that off the list too.

Sunday afternoon I loaded Sweet Boy into the wheelie-stroller and marched down the hill to the newest neighbor’s house. As luck would have it… they were home.

People, I think my new neighbor might be a Stepford Wife. At minimum, she’s a pod person.

Picture this: She’s wearing a pink t-shirt with sequins & rhinestones on it tucked into her “we belong to a country club” skort. (Tucked in. On a Sunday afternoon.) Her hair is fixed in big wavy curls & she has on pink glitter eyeshadow & full face-paint. (I swear, I think she was wearing high-heeled mules…. But that might have been my imagination.) She’s slim & very attractive and she is making cookies. She home-schools their four children and her husband (he was wearing deck shoes & pleated khaki shorts…. And I am NOT making that up….) is a “mental health professional” and just moved to a new, bigger office in town. Yes, he’s going to have a good time analyzing us, isn’t he? While I was there he lit a fire in the woodstove to burn garbage. (Do I need to note how odd this is?? It’s August. He’s burning junk mail. What?)

It was just a touch surreal. Just a touch. Hell. Our number is in the phone book and our name is on the mail box…. She could just call at any time. I can only hope she doesn’t invite me over for a Tupperware party… or a homeschool supply party…. Or a sex toy party… oh, well, she could invite me over for a sex toy party…. I’d go to that.

Keep in touch….

People, do you know what I love about you? I can neglect you and you still love me. I can treat you in ways I could never treat people in “real life” and I can get away with it… I can keep secrets from you. I can carefully reveal things that only portray me in a certain light…. and, still, you love me.

I’m making a list.

Surprise. Surprise. Surprise.

I need to maintain a few relationships in real life and, well, it is a painful thing for me…. Not that I don’t LIKE any of these people… trust me, I edited the people I don’t like out of my life a long time ago…. But relationships are so much WORK. I don’t like calling people… I don’t mind talking on the phone… it is the act of picking up the phone and dialing that gives me pit-prickles and a stomach ache. (And it is genetic… my mom is the same way.) So you can imagine what actually making plans to meet up with someone does to me….

1. I really need to meet the new neighbors… they moved in months ago. I made chocolate chip cookies last night. I vow to take some over to them today and introduce myself…. After I shower. I’ve been watching them (sometimes with my binoculars…) and I think if I time it right I can do it when they aren’t home… leave the cookies & a note and run.
2. Worker Bees. I will invite “the gals” from work out for an after work glass of wine later this month. This one is pretty low-stress. They don’t care if my floors are clean… they just want to see my son & help me plan my flower beds. I love them.
3. Mrs. R. Mrs. R is my friend from high school. She married a guy who also went to school with us & they have a cutie little girl a few months younger than Sweet Boy. She understands. We email at work on a regular basis and always make plans to get together that fall through… it doesn’t matter… she’s still there and I know I can rely on her if I need her. These are the kind of low pressure relationships I can cope with. Maybe we will plan coffee this afternoon or swimming later this week….. or next week.
4. Mrs. L. Mrs. L was my good friend back in the early-Helena days when we were both pre-husband & children. We lost touch. Every time we see each other we have fun but neither one of us really makes an effort.
5. Lala. Lala is, truly, probably my bestest friend… too bad she lives, like, 1800 miles away. I am making plane reservations THIS WEEK to go see her in October. Do you hear me, woman? THIS WEEK. Stop with the threatening emails already…. I WILL MAKE THE RESERVATIONS THIS WEEK.
6. My mom, my sis, my mother-in-law. All, thankfully, low-key and easy to be around. Sometimes it seems odd to me that my closest pals also happen to be my family…. Either really scary or really lucky… depending on the day. Not to say that any one of them either singly or in combination isn’t perfectly capable of driving me completely freakin’ insane…. but not usually.
7. All those fire wives. I really like a few of the fire wives… but it is hard to be friends with them…. Marriage to a fire guy ain’t easy and, well, to be blunt… a lot of the relationships just don’t make it…. So why bother?

There. I feel better. I’ve made sure no one expects much from me and isn’t it easier to please people when they have really low expectations to start with?

‘Cause, well, you know…. Christmas IS coming….

Have I mentioned I’m a compulsive list maker? I am making Sweet Boy’s Christmas list…. It is August. Oh well. He wants to check out Thomas the Train on dvd…. The kid has no cartoon dvd’s and I refuse to start him out with Bohbah or whatever those warty uncircumcised penises that come in a staggering array of neonish colors are called. A penis with eyes…. Ew and double-ew…. That is what nightmares are made of….

Ok, so beyond Thomas he really needs some sort of tub toy organizer… something.

He might need snowboots… but there might be a pair in the hand-me-downs “size 2” tubs… I guess I do have until, oh, NOVEMBER or so to figure that out.

Geez, beyond that all he really needs is a bigger drawer to stash items hidden in travel mugs….. I worry…. The kid isn’t much on playing with toys. He loves his rocking wooden moose & that fraggin’ make-me-insane Elmo guitar but other than that he would rather be banging on stuff with a wooden spoon or stacking measuring cups…. Is that normal?

14 days as a single mom

I’m independent. I’ve mentioned this, right? Well, ok, I pretend like I’m independent. In truth, I rely very heavily on my partnership. Yes, I bitch when I leave him a list of TWO things to do ALL DAY (clean the sink & wash the sheets) and he wipes the sink with soap & water but doesn’t use softscrub to get the coffee stains out and he washes the sheets but doesn’t make the bed. Really, the list of things I do to make him crazy is much, much longer. Someday I will make that list but it is embarrassing to admit just how often I fail to close the garage door or how many times I’ve left candles burning unattended.

So last night he gets the “14 Day Dispatch” call.

What does this mean?

Wildland firefighters often go “off area” to other places with severe fires. Hot Stuff has been to Colorado, Florida, California, and Arizona in the last few years. This dispatch is to western Montana so at least he won’t have to fly commercially to get there.

The beauty of the 14-day dispatch is the timing. Pack-yer-shit-yer-leaving-in-2-hours-or-2-days….. This, people, is why the Homestead Household MUST keep up with the laundry…. Gotta dispatch those fire boys with clean panties.

This is the first off-area dispatch he’s accepted since Sweet Boy was born.

I’m filled with excitement, anticipation and dread. I will miss him terribly and being a single-mom is not something I am very good at doing. I will be late for work every day and I dread dragging Sweet Boy with me to every little detail of my day…. Like showering & taking out the garbage. I don’t sleep well without Hot Stuff and I get lonely with no one to talk too but the dog.

So, I try to look on the bright side….

I will get a lot done while he is gone. I do like eating what I want, when I want and not worrying about meals. (Those who know me laugh now…. Like I’ve ever been a very dedicated or conscientious cook.) I will whittle away at the every growing stack of unread magazines by my bed. I will check my email (sorry to anyone patiently waiting for an email response). I will listen to all the music he hates. (Yes, that is Jimmy Buffett shaking the dust off the lamps.) I will read blogs. I will play with photoshop. I will work on Sweet Boy’s baby book. I will work on my flower beds. I will take Sweet Boy to the Big Slide at the park. I will take many, many pictures. I will go swimming with Sweet Boy. I will eat ice cream every day. I need to think of some other things to do to keep myself busy for the next 14 days….. help me out here people.

PRAISE the POWERS THAT BE...

... the camera hospital called. My camera is back from the ICU and recovering nicely in a semi-private room. It can be discharged as soon as a responsible party is available to pick it up and care for it. I can fake responsible.... I'm going to get my camera.

Reality Fuckin’ TV.

And now, people, you will see why I don’t blog very often…. This is my Life.

Scene:

A small kitchen… clean & uncluttered but definitely “lived in.” A 30-something woman in a black skirt & white tanktop is piling bags of groceries on the counter. As she piles, she pulls out various, seemingly random, food items to cook.

A small boy child, approximately 14 months, is playing in the kitchen. We see the boy child, unobserved by the mother, put his pacifier in a travel coffee cup, put the lid on it & put it in a drawer. As the scene continues to unfold, the boy child puts various objects in travel coffee cups, carefully puts on the lid & stashes them in the drawer.

The woman discovers a large plastic disk blocking one of the gas stove top lines…. She realizes THIS is why that burner hasn’t been working and calls the gas company to cancel her service call.

The phone rings and the woman begins a conversation with her sister. The conversation includes much talk about helicopters and fire. Meanwhile, the woman is cutting up bacon and putting it in a big pot to fry.

The woman, let’s refer to her as “mama,” runs around the corner into the laundry room to catch the small boy feeding dinosaur crackers to the dog. Mama can’t help but laugh at this adorable demonstration of sharing. She marvels at what an excellent choice she made in pets. This dog is bomb-proof…. He will tolerate anything.

The bacon burns. The smoke detector goes off. The sister (on the phone) laughs. Mama notes that all the smoke will just make Smokey, the firefighter husband, feel more comfortable when he gets home.

Mama adds green onions to the pot. The house stinks. The baby sneaks a full sippy cup of milk into the coffee cup drawer.

The dog goes out. The cat comes in. The daddy arrives smelling like wood smoke and gasoline from fighting fires & running a chainsaw. Mama dumps broccoli into the pot. The bacon grease splatters. The little boy runs to his daddy, babbling, and crawls up in his lap.

The daddy goes out to set the sprinklers. The mama stirs rice into the pot. The cat goes out. The dog comes in. The little boy takes daddy’s keys off the table and, you guessed it, puts them in a travel mug in the drawer.

The little boy goes outside to help his daddy. The mama goes upstairs to change out of her work clothes. The dog eats a piece of broccoli off the floor.

The daddy puts the little boy in his high chair and looks at the mail. The mama adds egg to the pot and gives the little boy slivers on nectarine. She wonders about the location of his sippy cup. The dog waits patiently to receive slivers of nectarine.

The mama ladles fried rice into bowls and the family sits down to eat. The little boy makes a big, giggling production out of blowing on his rice to cool it. He very carefully piles bits of rice on his spoon. Then he carefully takes them off and eats them. The baby does not enjoy the broccoli stems…. The dog does.

The family discusses the important questions of the day. Where was the fire? How big? Did you call in bucket drops? Should we go swimming tomorrow night? Which part of the lawn should we water next? Where IS that sippy cup of milk? What should we have for dinner tomorrow night? Do you want to play cribbage or read magazines after the baby is in bed? Would you like a drink? Do you think the little boy is eating enough vegetables? Do you want to get him ready for bed or do the dishes?

The baby is wrangled out of the high chair and sent to take a bath with daddy. Mama cleans up the dinner dishes. Soon, the little boy comes streaking out of the bathroom…. Completely naked and giggling…. Mama & “the butt bird” chase him back into the bathroom. He pees on the floor.

Mama wipes up the bacon grease & washes the stove. She marvels at having 4 working burners again. The dog cleans up the floor & high chair seat. A clean, naked baby… wrapped in a towel…. Gets a diaper & spidey-jammies in the living room. The daddy wonders where the blue paci is hiding.

The little boy shows daddy “somersaults” and how to climb up on the coffee table. He throws the ball for the dog and helps mama knock down some blocks. He goes outside to help daddy move the sprinklers. He mooches sips of mama’s iced tea.

The daddy & the baby play the “goodnight game” on the stairs. The baby sticks his hands through the stair spaces and the daddy grabs them and tickles him and growls. The baby gut-laughs and squeals and crawls up another step. The mama reads books & snuggles the little boy.

The little boy goes to bed with a little grin….. spidey-bottom sticking up in the air & soft, spikey-hair smelling clean. The mama turns on the fan & shuts the door partway. Goodnight little man.

The mama goes downstairs and adds a bit of vodka, cranberry juice and lemon to her tea. The daddy gets out the cribbage board. Mama plays well but she is defeated by ONE POINT. Usually they play two games but tonight they were interrupted by the phone a few times. They watch the fire report on the news and go to bed.

Scene fades to black.

My brother.

My brother.

My favorite brother.

My only brother.

My brother.

He’s moving.

Too Montana.

In October.

I’m so excited.

Do you know the naughty things he is going to teach my son?

Can you actually get frequent flyer miles for emergency room trips?

Oh, and by the by, he’s still available. Anybody want him?

More Reasons Why I Am A Great Mother.

I switched to small crunchy bite-sized bits of dog food instead of big kibble…. Less of a choking hazard. Sweet Boy’s latest trick is to cram several in his mouth and then run over to me grinning so I can squeeze his cheeks and he can spit them out one at a time like some demented little gumball machine.

Yeah, about that "Art & Modern Society" thing.....

I'm not going to write it. But I will say I think the "new direction" for art in Montana is towards art & economic development. We really want to get those tourists in here, get their money & then get them out before they drive up the price of land any more.

If I had money & wall space.......

Jay Laber is still my favorite but I also really like Gretchen Hibbard, Larry Pirnie, Richard Buswell, Tim Holmes, Josh DeWeese (and, really, any member of the DeWeese family) & Rosie Wynkoop. Oh, and Al Swanson.

And Ted Waddell is high on my list but he is living in Idaho so he can't be on the "Montana Favorites" list any more.

Oh and Chip Clawson & Robert Harrison.

And don't even get me started about Montana writers & musicians...... such talent.

It Takes A Village.....

So I went online today to find a workaround for PRB: "Table 'TempMSysAccessObjects' Already Exists" Error Message May Occur While Using the Compact and Repair Database Utility and I ended up here reading this.

I, too, am almost at a loss for words… and not just because someone so in-tune with the latest parenting trends should know researchers have disproved (disproven?) the whole “Mozart Effect” intelligence theory.

I am seriously considering adding google ad sense to my blog just so I can donate the proceeds to a fund for this poor child’s therapy.

Now, I admit, I am a fan of Brain, Child magazine and some of the theories of John Rosemond so that makes me a little schizophrenic in my parenting “style” anyway but this article really just made me think, “Well thank all the powers that be…. I am not that woman or that child or that poor, poor husband!”

Discuss.

Whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on….

Subtitle: I got my world rocked on Monday night.

…. And, no, it wasn’t the usual my-husband-is-amazing-in-the-sack kinda rockin’. We had an EARTHQUAKE that was an actual geographic event. (As apposed to the state of my living room after Sweet Boy plays an especially rousing game of “wrestle the rocking moose”) FIVE-POINT-SIX. So why do I live here instead of California again?

It rattled the lights. I was lounging on the couch with The Husband eating an ice cream bar. All I could think was, “Who started a load of laundry?” because it felt like the load was unbalanced. The Husband said, “That was either an explosion or an earthquake.” We looked at each other, it faded and then came back shaking harder and he said, "Grab the baby" and I went tearing up the stairs (ice cream bar clutched in one hand... no natural disaster is gonna get between me and my fudgcicle). By the time I got back downstairs he had the scanner and the news on and was talking to his parents on the phone.

Our house has a rock foundation so we weren’t too worried about structural damage. The only casualty was the sedum I'd just transplanted into a rusty wheel well that was sitting up on a wood chunk (it’s cool… not nearly as ‘neck as it sounds…. Pictures when I get my camera back) The “planter” tipped over and the wood chunk rolled away.... I turned it over, gave a quick Earth Mama blessing and shoved the plant back in.... whether it lives or dies depends on it's little plant will to go on.....

I won't lie... the shake kinda shook me.... It was one of those, "What do we do now?" moments..... The first thought was something had exploded on the train tracks (that happened once before) but then it went on and we knew what it was... I guess there have been lots of aftershocks but I haven't felt anything. I often bemoan the fact that we live in a land-locked state and the resultant lack of good sushi but this week I was more than happy to be high, dry and tsunami-free.

The Last Best Place

Hey all-

For those interested, here are the links to the "Last Best Place" articles. Some guy from Las Vegas wants to trademark the phrase..... Might I suggest he be very careful the next time he visits our fair state.... I imagine there are folks who take offense....

Last Best Place Editorial

Last Best Place Trademark Article

The Gov's gonna fight it...

Thinking of you....

I opened a new container of milk today and thought of Greenie when I saw homoginized on the lid.

Here’s my pitch.

This is why I think Sierrabella (or anyone else interested…. But I need to approve of you first, sorry….) should move to Helena or Montana in general.

1. Housing prices are still fairly reasonable in Helena or the Flathead valley. (Getting pricey in Missoula & Bozeman.)
2. It really isn’t as hick as some people think.
3. It is much more hick than some people think.
4. We have an airport.
5. All those typical outdoorsy things….. biking, hiking, fly-fishing.
6. Some decent indoor things (get your mind out of the gutter) for cultural enjoyment.
7. Park Avenue Bakery

Reasons to stay away from Helena:
1. No sushi.
2. Really bad radio stations.
3. Loads and loads of new subdivisions in the valley.
4. We’re getting an IHOP.
5. Walmart: It’s not a store, it’s a lifestyle.
6. Those delightful winters.
7. We have a speed limit again and the tickets cost more than $5.

Other things to consider:
1. The smoking ban (depending on if you are for or against it) Smoking Ban
2. The governor The Guv

Kicking

In one of my past lives I worked at a martial arts school. (Sidenote: That’s why I was so surprised to see all the freaked out comments about getting “choked out” on this site. Hands down the best choke submission I’ve ever seen was by a 10-year-old girl with arms like broomsticks. She locked on to a senior instructor (a big cocky meathead 200+ guy who has been doing martial arts forever) and he almost went down glassy-eyed before he could even tap out.)

I was fresh out of college and my personality alternated between cocky, quirky & shy. Typical. I lived near Sacramento and didn’t really know anyone so I spent a lot of time working out. I was a kinda cute young thing with a boppy ponytail & red toenails and an easy confidence with martial arts “fighting” that comes from knowing opponents will always underestimate the tall quiet chick. I was pretty slow but long legs and light weigh make up for a lot when competing against women and a long stare, a slow grin & a quick attack will throw off most men.

I was proud of all the women I’d introduced to the benefits of martial arts. I would say, “If I can do it, you can do it too. I’m slow. I have two metal rods in my back and the beginnings of arthritis. I’ve had acl surgery on my knee. I’ve had 3 surgeries on my ankle.” Men are better at sparring for about the first two years. They can rely on strength. Women tend to focus more on technique and, therefore, are better martial artists once they get to a sparring level that requires actually skill rather than just being able to take a hit. Sparring is a chess match, not a slug fest. That said, I’ve gotten more bruises sparring with “orange” and “green” belts than I have from any of the more senior belt levels. No control and too much adrenaline.

Our art was Olympic-style sparring. Not at all street practical and very frustrating for older, slower, stove-up folks like me. Then we started training more in ground techniques. This was about the time the Ultimate Fighting Challenge was getting popular and we would have big parties and get together to watch. So pretty soon another dojang started going south to train with “The Gracies.” And then they were sending someone up a couple times a week to train with interested people in our area. They liked to train at our school because we had good mats and it was very clean. My compulsive tendencies existed even back then.

The Gracies were a concept. Some family members had been in the US for a while. Some didn’t have a whole lot of English but could communicate easily with exaggerated mime demonstrations of moves and drills. Some were a little, um, scary.

One day one of the Gracie boys looked at me. (I’m not saying which one because what if…) It was the kind of look that made me have a deeper understanding of how cave men truly functioned. It made me reconsider my choice of attire on training days. I think it was years before I felt comfortable baring my midriff again… and, of course, by then it wasn’t as spectacular. That look had some raw male testosterone flowing in it. No pomp, no bravado, just a pure sense of what he was capable of and a simple assessment of me. I gulped and looked back. I guess I passed some test because the next week I was invited to do some of the training drills with them. I never got very good. The rods in my back made a lot of the moves very painful for me and I regret I didn’t dedicate enough time and energy to training. But I did learn a few moves that were clean, simple and effective…. When you watch it sometimes you just see a couple of sweaty guys rolling around with each other, but Jui-jitsu is a beautiful art.

Vacation 101

1. They got off the plane last.
2. Lala is wearing a sexy t-shirt and purple crocs.
3. She was packing Little (18 months) in the backpack
4. Big (She’ll be 6 in September) in a sundress & green crocs.
5. Middle (3 ½) dragging a giant pink wheeled backpack and wearing red crocs.
6. I had to buy a pair of crocs just to blend in.
7. Mine are light blue.
8. They look ridiculous and I love them.
9. They only brought one suitcase for all 4 of them.
10. We spent quite a bit of time at the lake.
11. Lala & I were the hottest moms there…. Although I stuck with the slimming black one-piece and didn’t bust out the new tankini…. Still have some love handle issues to deal with before the tags come off that one.
12. We all wore sunscreen and got tan anyway.
13. We rented a paddleboat ($5 for ½ hour) and saw some big fish…. We also saw a lot of monster snot in the water.
14. We kept the giant “beach bag” packed at all times with towels & beach toys.
15. The trusty red wheelie cooler was our best friend.
16. Sweet Boy learned how to drink out of a straw.
17. My dear husband got a taste of what polygamy might be like… the multiple wives & children part… not the sex part.
18. Dear Husband doesn’t want ANYTHING to do with polygamy.
19. Lala & I decided we would be good partners….. except the sex part.
20. She did all the laundry while she was here.
21. I scored a good enchilada recipe from her.
22. We painted the bathroom purple. Actually, silverberry.
23. We painted the dryer white.
24. We both think a good vacation involves painting something.
25. The kids were very good.
26. Her kids are good shoppers.
27. My son is a climber.
28. We went to the carousel. It is way cool. Rides are $1. One of the horses has a dead bunny strapped to the back of the saddle. We did not point this out to the girls. Other riding animals include otters, big horn sheep, bison, um, darn, I can’t remember any more.
29. Lala makes great “kid mix” for snacking.
30. I made great “grownup mix” for snacking.
31. We snacked a lot.
32. Margaritas in a bucket are a good thing.
33. We can still raise hell in Target… even with 4 kids in tow….. we are a force to be reckoned with.
34. We had healthy meals most of the time.
35. We ordered pizza once…. The first night they were here. We got our old favorite. Double mushroom, extra cheese, no sauce. Try it. You’ll like it.
36. We only ate fast food once….. tacos & pizza at the mall while we were getting Montana t-shirts, Croc sandals & a stuffed bunny.
37. We took the kids to see the helicopter at my sister’s workplace. Little said, “Oh.” And was completely spellbound by the ‘copter. I have never seen anything so adorable.
38. My son, of course, was more interested in “driving” the lawn tractor sprinkler around the yard.
39. My sister was very pleased with the picnic we brought. She really likes ham and oreos.
40. Big & Middle loved the Smokey Bear stickers & rulers.
41. Even after eating, well, everything in sight, I only gained a couple of pounds so there is hope the tankini tags will come off this summer.
42. We watched fireworks from my aunt’s deck on the 4th.
43. She has a great house on Mt Helena with a good view of the big display in East Helena and all the smaller displays in the valley.
44. People in Helena spend a lot of money on fireworks.
45. My husband won’t let us do fireworks….. that’s just part of life being married to a firefighter.
46. There isn’t much better than sitting in a comfy lawn chair with a snuggly little boy wearing batman jammies watching fireworks.
47. Especially when you add in a big glass of red wine & a slice of key lime pie.
48. Lala’s family has a language of their own.
49. We watched the Great Foo-howie of the fireworks.
50. We said, “Cwhwah-haa” for croissants.
51. We called each other Momjado. (From mom-would-you….)
52. Sometimes when I say something odd I realize it is a lalaism. Like calling a shopping cart a buggy.
53. Her kids pay a “mom tax” when they get candy or treats.
54. We watched “Nemo” and re-remembered all the great quotes from it.
55. My husband wore jeans to the lake.
56. We drank a lot of coffee with hazelnut creamer.
57. I mean a lot.
58. We went for a “nature walk” and saw baby deer twins.
59. We didn’t see any snakes.
60. Gunnar was a good dog and tolerated two little girls pulling him two different directions with two different leashes.
61. The front wheel fell off the wheelie stroller.
62. We fixed it.
63. We walked to my in-laws and decided we were tired so we called home and had the husband come and get us.
64. The girls got a good picture of the mama deer that seems to be living in the old collapsed barn.
65. We wore baseball caps, t-shirts & shorts every day.
66. We only had to do laundry once… or twice.
67. We played tourist and got Montana gear for everyone.
68. We saw the former governor in Dillard’s.
69. She talked to the kids and welcomed them to Montana.
70. She has a very cool purse made from license plates from her dad’s old truck.
71. They taught us how to “eat the orphans first” when eating grapes.
72. We taught them it is ok to pee off the porch.
73. They helped us turn Sweet Boy’s car seat around.
74. Sweet Boy loves it.
75. Little & Sweet Boy spent a lot of time “talking” to each other.
76. We have no idea what they were saying but they sure thought it was funny.
77. Sweet Boy did a “happy dance” every morning when he came down the stairs and saw them there.
78. He cried the morning after they left.
79. I almost did too.
80. Husband wasn’t nearly so sad…. I think the polygamy scared him.
81. 3 small children and a mom don’t make as much of an explosion as you might expect when they unpack.
82. We rented a minivan.
83. It had a dvd player.
84. We watched a princess movie in the driveway.
85. The minivan was a dream to drive.
86. We bought stuff for s’mores and never made them.
87. Lala couldn’t get over what great ROCKS we have here. Apparently, in other places, you pay big money for such rocks.
88. I sent her home with a few small rocks in her suitcase.
89. We didn’t go to a garden center once while they were here.
90. It took extreme control.
91. We are a menace in a garden center…. We always have been.
92. Lala and I met when she was a freshman & I was a sophomore in college.
93. We lived in a dorm called “the virgin vault.”
94. She is the wittiest and funniest person I know.
95. She also gives good advice.
96. She bought an adorable fossil purse while she was here.
97. Then she bought another one.
98. After they left my husband told me they can come back any time.
99. I miss them all terribly.
100. I want them to come back and move in next door so we can make a stepping stone path between our houses.
101. I’m going down there in October. Get ready.

FOR SALE:

Lovely home on lower west side of Helena, Montana. Oversized corner lot. High privacy fence around backyard… perfect for dogs. Very dog-friendly neighborhood. Dog door into attached garage. Nice neighborhood. Only one shared fence section and it is buffered by your backyard, the neighbor’s side yard and their attached garage… very quiet and private. Established, low-maintenance perennial flowerbeds. Large garden plot. Strawberries, raspberries, rhubarb & garlic established. Beautiful, mature trees & landscaping. Perfect hammock spot. Ranch-style home, pale grey with dark grey trim. 900 sq feet upstairs & 900 sq feet in fully finished basement. 2 bathrooms & 4 bedrooms (2 non-conforming). New Pergo flooring in kitchen/dining/living room. Recently redesigned kitchen plan and new countertops. Refrigerator, stove, dishwasher included. Forced-air heat. Large recreation room in basement. 2 car attached garage with automatic opener. Garage is insulated and sheetrocked for potential conversion to den or bedrooms. Lovely new paint throughout upstairs. Photos available.
Go ahead, make me an offer…..

Still here.... sort of.

Here’s something for the starving masses…. My son loves this stuff… isn’t that odd? Now I’m going back outside. (stolen from the helenair.com website)

Avocado Gazpacho

3 fully ripened Hass avocados, halved, pitted, peeled and diced
2 cups peeled, seeded and diced cucumbers
¾ cup chopped fresh tomato
½ cup chopped onion
14½-ounce ready-to-serve chicken broth
1 to 2 tablespoons lemon juice
1½ teaspoons salt
½ teaspoon ground black pepper
½ cup coarsely broken tortilla chips

Remove ½ cup diced avocado for later use. In a blender, place half of the remaining avocado, cucumbers, tomato, onion, broth, lemon juice, salt and pepper; whirl until smooth; place in a bowl; repeat.To serve: Spoon gazpacho into four soup bowls; in the center of each, spoon a small mound of the avocado and sprinkle with chip pieces. If desired, top each serving with a cilantro sprig.To prepare up to one day ahead, follow recipe up to serving directions. Cover surface of soup directly with plastic wrap; refrigerate. When ready to serve, continue as directed above.Makes 4 servings, about 5 cups.

Nutrition information per serving: 296 cal., 5 g pro., 19 g carbo., 25 g total fat (4 g saturated), 7 g dietary fiber.

Note: To convert to a main-dish cold soup, omit the tortilla chips and use:
1 pound cooked, shelled medium shrimp (about 24)
6-ounce can lump crabmeat, drained or ½ cup fresh lump crabmeat (about 4 ounces)
Sliced scallion for garnish, if desired
French bread
Goat cheese or cheese spread, as desired

Set aside 12 shrimp for garnish, then chop the remaining shrimp and stir them into the soup along with the crabmeat. Some crabmeat can be set aside for garnish also, along with scallions. Serve with slices of crusty French or Italian bread spread with a pepper-coated goat cheese or herbed or garlic-flavored cheese spread.

The Joke Answer....

Sorry to leave you hanging for so long.... if you haven't googled it yet (good thinking LadyBug)....

BECAUSE THEY ARE BOTH FUCKING CLOSE TO WATER!!!!!

An artist and a rant

Ok, first, I want to present one of my favorite artists.

Rez 'rWrecktion

Please. Tell me you can look at this stuff and not think it is just fucking cool.

Next. Well. I had a huge rant going on in my head about closed minds and art and culture and diversity and.... well, I'd love to tell you all about it but the baby is calling, the weather is good, I have half a day off and I want to go create a little art of my own.... in the garden.

A Joke from the Beer Fairy

Do you know why domestic beer is like sex in a canoe?

PAX is gonna be WB!!!

Do you know what this means?

Ok. Background. We’re Rednecks….. is that news to anybody? But we are Special Rednecks….’cause we’re Educated Rednecks. (and, yes, we do know what an “oxymoron” is…) And not just community-college-two-year-associates-degree-in-welding educated… we are talking nationally acclaimed liberal arts college educated. But wait… I brag & I digress. So, as Rednecks we claim stubborn, poor but proud, hard-working and creative as our birthright.

What does this mean?

Well, we don’t have cable. And, I was thrilled to discover, neither do other people we know.

We can’t get cable where we live… or DSL… or anything but satellite. And (see “poor but proud” above) we have chosen to live on (and pay for) our overpriced-but-delightful homestead rather than have some of the more common modern expenses like satellite or car payments or memberships to the wine-of-the-month club. (Although I’m still hoping for that as a Christmas gift… anyone?)

In the past, we lived in town and got 6 tv stations. ABC, CBS, NBC, FOX, PBS & the religion channel. Then FOX turned into PAX and we got more than our needed dose of “Diagnosis Murder.” In our current home we can get NBC & PAX on the tv in the living room via rabbit ears. Upstairs we get CBS & ABC. Gone are the days of watching “Red Green” and “Antiques Roadshow” because we can’t get PBS anywhere in the house. I miss Red. I don’t really miss that toothy guy on the religion channel… he made me nervous.

But… HERE’S THE NEWS PEOPLE…. PAX is turning into The WB.

What does this mean?

Well, I’m not sure since I’ve never really seen The WB…. But it can’t be worse than PAX, can it?

The Beer Fairy Strikes Again

This time it was a bottle of Full Sail Amber and TWO bottles of Obsidian Stout. I love this game. She also left a can of Mountain Dew…. I’m not sure what that is about so I’m giving it to my husband.

How do I know the beer fairy is a she? ‘Cause a male beer fairy woulda left Bud Lite at our house.

I miss my camera.

Have I mentioned how much I love my husband? That gorgeous and adorable man got the EXTENED WARRANTY when he bought the camera. I can break it until 2007!!! So all that stress was alleviated when I walked into the store and they looked up the info… after the standard confusion of deciding what name my husband had used when registering…. He uses a couple and I use a couple…. Loads of fun. I handed over the camera and they promised to take care of me. I hope they aren’t lying. Added incentive to help me since I happen to be the store manager’s land lord.

Oh, and can I just add… the on-line tech support for Canon SUCKS.

I would have posted more but I’ve been to busy partying…..

Saturday we went day-camping (some people call that a picnic) at Kading Campground. It was a bit too chilly for shorts up in the mountains but we had lots of fun and ate ham & fried chicken. The creek is all blown out from the recent rain so there was no point in trying to fish it but I took along my fly rod anyway…

Sunday we had tons of family to our house for lasagna and picnic leftovers. Good thing we had plates & plastic utensils left over from the weekends before.

We also had a big ass house warming party this month. We put my father-in-law to work as the grill man and got a keg of Blackfoot Brewery’s Driftboat Amber. I had no idea we had so many friends.

Throw into the mix Sweet Boy’s first birthday party and a few other random family and friends visits…..
And the fun never stops…. My best friend will be here next week with her clan of children…. Margaritas and egg hunting for everyone.

The things we do for love.

The things we do for love.
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

5 seconds before The Perfect Family. Let me just say, in my defense, it was kinda humid and I need a haircut and I intended to put my hair up but didn't quite have time.....

Click.

Click
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

The perfect family.

Go. Go. Go.

A mama and her boy
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

This is what we do for fun on a Saturday. And please, don't comment on my hair.... I know it looks like hell.

Power Player

Power Player
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

Please take note of the horrible, horrible RIGHT-HANDEDNESS of my child.

Also note the DYSON box behind him.... yes, we got an anniversary-mother'sday-father'sday-birthdays gift. It Rocks in Socks. There was a whole 'nother dog in that sexy clear canister when I was done. And it is turquoise and purple WITH SPARKLES. Can you imagine anything dreamier??

Gunnar Sit

Gunnar Sit
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

Ok, since the camera is out of commission I will post old doggie photos... a day early.

Lil Sister

Lil Sister
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

Here she is.... in all her glory. (I promise one with a chainsaw soon..... camera is being "evaluated" by a professional....)

Betcha didn't know Rednecks wore sunglasses like that....

Things My Sister Said.

Yesterday we were shopping for a new dress for me (Hot Husband & Sweet Boy were there too) and she was overheard saying, "Well, that fire extinguisher won't put out flaming metal."

She also likes to quote Bob, the helicopter pilot and say, “A Chinook helicopter looks like two Hueys humping a dumpster.”

“Maybe it is more fun if you don’t have teeth.” On why babies like pacifiers so much…. Followed, of course, by test-driving the paci and not really enjoying it all that much...

Check out the Chucks

New Kicks Pic 2
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

Great Grandpa got his favorite (and only ) great-grandson some new shoes.... check it out, dude.

Party Guy

Party Guy
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

Just testing this thing to see if it is worth standing in....

My sister cut down a tree yesterday...

…. All by herself.

She's very proud.

It was a big deal.

Her "saw muscles" are sore today.

By the end of the day, she could barely hold her chainsaw.

I hope she took pictures.

Why is everything technical in my life going to shit?

I think the power steering belt in my car is loose. Add that to the list of things to get fixed.

My sewing machine is toast.

My camera is down. I think (hope) it is the battery. They are expensive but not as bad as a new camera. The lcd screen no longer lights up… just for a few minutes when the camera is fully charged and then it goes dark. Still takes pictures but it is darn hard to delete pictures on the camera when you can’t see the menu screens. I have a lot of projects counting on me getting my camera fixed because, of course, I want before and after pictures.

The coffee pot no longer has the “pause-n-serve” function. I discovered this today when I pulled the pot out to pour a quick cup for the guy-with-the-cute-ass as he was heading out the door.

The dishwasher leaves a strange foggy film on plastic containers and glassware.

The receiver for my stereo died… with smoke.

All (three) thermometers in our house have dead batteries.

The air conditioning in the Dodge is failing.

The lawn mower…. Don’t get me started on the lawn mower.

The electric cat litter box died. I am very sad about this.

The toy chainsaw (that I just bought) quit… but it may have taken a small flight off the porch.

It is like I have some strange electric current around me that makes all things mechanical just DIE when I am in the room.

This is for Sierrabella….

…Because everybody could use a little assvice.

Deer Resistant Plants

According to California Extension Leaflet #2167 and other sources the
following plants are considered deer resistant:

An online version is available, with links to the plants we carry.
http://www.highcountrygardens.com/articles/deerresistant.html

Perennial
Allium(Onions)
Althea(Hollyhock)
Alyssium saxatile
Anemones(Windflower)
Aubrietia
Berlandiera(Chocolate Flower)
Cerastiim(Snow-in-Summer)
Coreopsis
Delphinium
Digitalis(Foxglove)
Epimedium
Helianthus(Sunflower)
Iris(Bearded Iris)
Lamium(Dead Nettle
Oenothera(Evening Primrose)
Papaver(Poppy)
Petalostemon(Prairie Clover)
Ratibida(Prairie Coneflower)
Rudbeckia(Black-eyed Susan)
Solidago(Golden Fleece)
Solidago(Fireworks Goldenrods)
Spaeralcea(Orange Globe Mallow)
Stachys(Lamb's-ears)
Vinca(Myrtle)
Zauschneria(Hummingbird Flower)

Herbs
Anthum graveolens (Dill)
Mentha(Mint)

Shrubs & Trees
Berberis(Barberry)
Buddleia
Coloneaster
Cerocarpus(Mahogany)
Chamaebatiera(Fernbush)
Forsythia
Juniperus(Juniper)
Mahonia(Oregon Grape)
Picea(Spruce)
Potentilla(Cinquefoil)
Syringa(Common Lilac)

I’ve also heard:
Artemisia
Cistus
Feather reed grass (Calamagrostis)
Germander
Lavender
Mexican hair grass (Stipa)
Potentilla
Rosemary
Santoline
Thyme
Yarrow
Aromatic helichrysum
New Zealand flax

In my yard I have: peonies, daisies, grape hyacinth, daffodils, chives, bee balm, thyme, mint, silver mound, salvia, Russian sage, columbine, anemone, bleeding heart, iris, sedum, hollyhocks, cosmos, lily of the valley, paprika yarrow… the deer seem to leave it all alone and I occasionally mist everything with deer repellent… the minty kind.

The deer ate my tulips (I’m transplanting them somewhere that I can net for next year). I have spinach, delphinium & asters growing under nets. I planted some annuals, basil & cilantro in pots on the deck and I have two roses in whiskey barrels on the deck.
I plan to add more wildflowers next summer but I will try to stick with things on the list. Except sweetpeas…. I want sweetpeas. I might have to build a big planter on the deck for those or create another deer-net sculpture to protect them.

My mother-in-law lives up the road a ways and the deer eat her daffodils & bleeding heart…. Go figure.

Oh, and can I just add that I love the highcountrygardens.com website?

A little lesson.....

There’s a moose in the neighborhood. All the more motivation to get a new battery to fix the camera. This is wwaaaaayyyyyy less scary to me than the bear that was in the neighborhood….. Why? I think, statistically, more people are harmed by moose than bears and moose are definitely bigger than bears…. this bear anyway. Bears just want to get into the garbage cans.

And there is a badger living at the curve down the road and badgers are mean. Really mean. Forget “Wind in the Willows” and all that….. badgers will eat your shit if given half a chance.

But I don’t mind badgers half as much as the stupid feral cat that sprayed all the pellet bags in the lean-to. Nasty. I woulda 5-pumped that cat with the bb gun if my husband would honor my wishes and get me a bb gun. 5-pumps…. that’d sting.

He won’t get me a bb gun because he’s afraid I’ll shoot at the deer to keep them out of the tulips. I won’t shoot the deer because the deer eat the leaves off the lawn and I like that and I’m transplanting all the tulips to one spot so I can net them and only gardening with “deer resistant” perennials in the rest of the yard.

I’m no redneck bb gun freak. I know you can only 3-pump and aim below the shoulders on a human target. I’ve never torn apart a vacuum cleaner bag to get out bb’s to shoot at the neighbor’s dog when it was chasing my horse. (Hhhmmmm…. I wonder who did that…. Does he, by chance, desire to drive a Travelall???)

Truth be told…. I have a soft spot for the deer…. There is a reason for the term “doe eyes” and I’ve seen it. They are like little kids. They give you that look and you just have to forgive them for turning the front flower bed into an all-you-can-eat buffet. I even forgive the big buck for beating the hell out of my evergreen when he was in rut last fall. It was a pretty funny sight once I figured out what all the ruckus was about. I wonder what he would do if I got one of those fancy juniper topiaries all trimmed up to look like a doe…. On second thought… I don’t want to think about it.

So, just to recap, there is a moose on the loose and I’m going to try to get some pictures.

And that is my Wildlife Lesson of the Day for you.

I keep planning to write about our vacation but it seems like so long ago now….

We went with the whole famdamily to Cannon Beach, OR. My mom-in-law loves the ocean and it was a tiny family reunion for her side of the family. So we have a lot of folks (most of whom I’ve never met or only met at our wedding) descending on this little town pre-tourist season. We did it up right.

By my count there were 18 people. The original 4 cousins plus their spouses. Then their kids (4 kids made the event, plus 3 spouses) and then the next generation….Sweet Boy & his two girl cousins.

The rest of our family drove (2 days) but we flew. (That is the payoff for using a frequent flyer credit card for all of our gas & groceries for the past many years.) Flying with a small person wasn’t as horrible as it could have been….

I, of course, drew the ticket with the “SS” on it…. I think that means “Seize & Search.” So I am being questioned about the Cheerios race car in my pocket & why my entire spinal area makes the wand go “bbbzzzz” while #1 Husband wrangles the kid, the diaper bag, the contents of his pockets and his hiking boots through security. Is there any graceful way to handle it? It was like a bad Three Stooges flick. And, of course, Helena International Airport is under construction so everything is taking place surrounded by scaffoldings and black tarps. Oh, and here in Redneckia, we walk out on the “tarmac” to get on the “airplane” to take off. We were on one of the little planes… of course. As luck (and nasal decongestant) would have it, Sweet Boy fell asleep for the entire flight to Salt Lake. The flight & car rental & drive to Cannon Beach went well. Gorgeous green country.

We rented a couple of houses on the beach. We walked on the sand. We gossiped by the fire while it rained. We drank.

These people know food & wine. We ate. And we ate. And we drank. It was fun! Sweet Boy got to try abalone (he liked it) and smoked salmon (not so yummy) and this amazing seafood stew stuff (it has a name I can’t think of) that Uncle G put together.

One cousin (We’ll call him Abercrombie because he could, truly, model for Abercrombie & Fitch…. I guess that means we call his girlfriend, Fitch, doesn’t it?) got engaged that weekend so we all took lots of romantic pictures of them on the beach. His brother, the-guy-who-works-in-Hollywood was also there. I’d never met TGWWIH before but we instantly bonded over the knowledge that we both love vodka & grapefruit juice. The women of MIL’s family are all very tiny & very active…. Really, it was like being surrounded by woodsprites on caffeine or a herd of humming birds. I felt very…. Large.

Much walking on the beach, lots of rain, a little shopping.

Husband left a day early… he had to be back for work stuff. Sweet Boy & I flew out the next day from Portland. I got him a fabulous beanie with a propeller (and a matching one for daddy) and he was the cutest guy in the airport (Sweet Boy, not daddy).

Of course, travel being what it is, we had some, um, mishaps, on the way home. I opted to send the diaper bag home with the daddy and just carry on my big purse from Old Navy crammed full of dinosaur crackers & sippy cups. Well, the buckle on the strap broke and the plane was late and we had to do the full-on Sampsonite commercial sprint through the SLC airport. Picture this: The Mama, looking fit and trim in her favorite Solomon tennies & capris, hauling a broken purse and, in the sling, The Baby… big-eyed and wearing a propeller hat…. Laughing as we run. We were cracking up ourselves and everyone around us. My brother had warned me about running and getting on and off those moving sidewalk things so I was prepared for that part. (And I prepared my sister who did it the next week coming home from Vegas… what is it with us and delayed flights??) We made it. But barely. I hate flying out of the “E” concourse in Salt Lake.

It was so nice to get home. Husband had the house all cleaned up and pizza ordered. I started a load of laundry and curled up on the couch with my family and a refreshing adult beverage and we broke down the highs and lows of our vacation.

I’m ready to go on another vacation. MIL and I decided we should go on a “bigger” vacation every other year and in the off years go on vacation somewhere local. I’m making a list of localish places for next year. Chico Hot Springs. Flathead Lake. Glacier Park. Radium Hot Springs. Big Sky.

Memorial Day 2004

*You can just skip this entry, my feelings won’t be hurt. It must be National Sappy Week or something…

I spent the first day of the long weekend alternating between wanting to go into labor and knowing that my doc was out of town for the weekend. He told me on Friday to not go into labor until after 8:00 pm on Monday.

The second day of the long weekend I pulled weeds and tidied my flower beds. I had a long conversation with the-one-who-was-my-child and explained that there comes a time in a young baby’s life when s/he needs to get out and see the world. Baby said, “uh-uh.”

On Memorial Day the-man-with-the-nice-ass & I went to dinner at his parent’s house. Steak on the barby. I was completely and totally resigned to the fact that I would, indeed, be pregnant forever. I was many days overdue and my body had stopped believing pregnancy was anything special… no more peeing every 5 minutes, no more heart burn, no fatigue… nothing….. just the acceptance that this was the new “way it is” and would continue to be so FOREVER.

I woke up around 1:30am (Tuesday) feeling, well, odd. I decided this was probably labor and settled in for the long first phase. I told my husband I was in labor but “not to worry, go back to sleep, this first part takes a long time.” Things were, frankly, a bit more uncomfortable than I had been led to believe they would be so I took a long, hot shower, shaved my legs, washed with fancy microscrub cleanser, and used up all the hot water. By now it is around 3:00 and my husband is awake and calmly reading a paperback.

I put on grey eyeliner and my favorite grey yoga pants. (I wore them to the hospital and home from the hospital and I’m wearing them right now too.)

Around 3:45 we realize the contractions are two minutes apart and I said, without a single notion of how insane I sounded, “Well, maybe only every OTHER one is a contraction.” We had several Three Stooges moments while my honey tried to call the doctor’s office, the emergency room & the on-call doctor….. every time he would get an answering machine he would hang up, panic and then ask me for the phone number again…. Until I snapped, “It’s in the fucking speed dial.” Not a proud moment for me, but pretty funny.

I distinctly remember at about 4:30 stretching my arms across the kitchen table, looking at my sweetheart and saying, “Dammit, And, this really hurts.” I was rapidly losing my faith that I had a high pain tolerance. I was not entirely sure I could handle 36 hours of this. Yes, 36…. Because that is what baby school taught me…. 36 hours of labor. Suckers.

We arrived at the hospital around 5:00am and Three Stooged our way into the emergency room. See, in baby school we learned that, “If you go into labor after 8 pm but before 7 am go to the emergency room entrance.” So we went to the emergency room entrance and I stood stupidly in front of the automatic doors for a full 10 seconds before I realized they were not going to automatically open for me…. So I hiked it around to the ambulance bay and went in that way.

So, when you get to the emergency desk, what do you say? Hi. I’m pregnant. It was one of the more absurd moments I’ve ever experienced. One savvy old nurse rolled up with a wheelchair and told me to hop in. We went careening down the halls to labor & delivery…. My husband sprinting along behind us with the overnight bag flopping everywhere and reams of paperwork half filled out. (Stupid, really, in hind-site… the paperwork he was filling out was the same stuff I had filled out earlier and was on file in labor & delivery AND I had a copy in the overnight bag.)

Thank heavens we had the sense to only bring in an overnight bag and leave the “what if” stuff in the car. My best pal (a former labor nurse) told me they used to delight in sending home expectant parents who showed up to labor carrying the car seat.

My first L&D conversation went like this:

Nurse Prissybritches, “Are you sure you are in labor?”
Meek Me, “Well, no, I’ve never done this before.”
Nurse PB, “So this is your first baby?”
Meek Me, “Yes” (What the fuck? Doesn’t it SAY that right there on the pre-registration paper you have in your hand that I filled out THREE WEEKS ago… do you think that has changed in the last three weeks?)
Nurse PB, “Well, we will put a sheet on the bed so you don’t mess it up for the next delivery when we send you home.”
Meek Me, “ok” (What the hell? This might not be labor? What is it? I may die…. Ok, if I die I’m taking as many of you with me as I can….)
Nurse PB, “Whoa, you are 5-6 cm.”
Me, hopelessly, “You mean I’m only half way?”

At this point my husband actually said, “Think glass half-full honey.” And then looked at the nurse, dead-pan, and asked if I was really in labor. I love that man.

My sister showed up about then and the nurse actually sent her down the hall to get another nurse & the delivery cart. The doc-on-call came in and the nurse whispered to him and his eyes got huge & he said, "I'm going to go call your doc and hurry him along" and he left and we never saw him again. I was cruising around during the contractions.... I absolutely could NOT hold still or sit during them. My honey was boggled.... it was not going according to what we saw in the video.... he was not "slow dancing" his wife through the contractions or rubbing her back. (He still owes me all those backrubs.) Never did get to use the birthing ball, the jacuzzi tub or watch the videos we brought for during the long early-active labor stage. I really wanted to get in that tub but the nurse said I didn't have time if I wanted to get threaded for the epidural. At that point I was thinking I was in for 36 more hours and I wanted the drugs.... little did I know…...

So she couldn't get the IV in.... and Nurse PB LIED about it to the anesthesiology nurse… who also couldn’t get the IV in…. interesting since I have giant you-would-be-a-fabulous-heroin-user veins. Finally the anesthesiologist did it. They gave me the interthecal..... loved the interthecal. Right when he got it started I told them I wanted to push... they all said "Don't" but that's like telling someone not to throw up.... it just doesn’t work. My doc was there by then and he examed me & said, "Ok, no cervix is there and you are at 10cm so go ahead and push if you want too." I'm thinking, "You mean I did all of the transition without any DRUGS??? In baby school we learned transition is the ouchiest part. I didn't mean for THAT to happen."

I pushed for about half an hour & I could feel everything but the pain was minimal and ta-da… baby. At one point, Husband had one leg, Sister had the other & the doc was catching and he said, "huh, well I guess we don't need the nurses, we can do this" and he looked over at the nurses and said, "Uh, we're crowning over here" and they all scurried around.... apparently they were all impressed with our speed & efficiency. He was born at 6:58 am. (Do the math…. I got to the hospital around 5:00 am….. the nurses said I was easy to chart.) And, of course, he was perfect. 8 lbs, 10 oz & 22 inches long.

So sappy you really might want to skip it.

I posted these over on LadyBug's Site ** in regards to mrtl's school teacher assignment. The topic is love.

** LB- Please note... I CAN be taught.


Love is realizing you can't go to the grocery store alone anymore because the stocker is looking at you strangely when you say, "The tomato is red. Mama likes peas. Daddy likes lettuce. Lettuce is green." and suddenly you realize you don't have any shopping cart passengers to justify this conversation.

Love is moving towards someone who is barfing.

Love is going to work with (someone else's) snot on your sleeves.

Love is a little person climbing (fully dressed) into the shower with you.

Love is buying a black nursing bra. (Hey, we all try....)

Love is simultaneous footrub swaps on the couch.

Love is telling your wife she's sexy in her black nursing bra.

Love is a baby (I mean, big boy) feeding you dinosaur crackers.

Love is sharing a paci.

Love is wearing fleecy footed jammies and snuggling with your mama while you let her read you “Barnyard Dance” again…. Because you know it is her favorite book.

Love is red roses and romantic dinners out or dandelion bouquets and pizza in.

FOR THOSE OF YOU STILL READING (AND NOT GAGGING ON THE SUGAR) NEXT WEEK'S TOPIC: FEET.

No Really.

Anyone here NOT know what a Travelall is?

**UPDATE**
Think of the Walter Mathau (sp?) character's ride in "Grumpy Old Men." If Brother reads this post perhaps he will fire a picture of one to me to post.... it is his dream vehicle and he has found one to buy & refurbish.... almost as cool as the 1984, baby blue, 4-door, diesel Volkswagon rabbit.

Political commentary.... really.

I’ve made some serious sacrifices for parenthood. Like wearing a bathing suit to take Sweet Boy swimming….. do you have any idea what it takes (besides a shoehorn) for me to put that thing on? At least when I am wearing my black pants, stretchy t-shirt (untucked, of course) & artistic (I-still-have-style-and-flair) scarf I can pretend I’m fashionable, hip & sexy (and that I have a waist.)

I’m trying really hard to continue to be a good employee…. but it is pretty hard to fool people when you show up for work at least once a week wearing your slippers.

Here’s a story you will appreciate. In November I had a big budget meeting. I mean big. My two bosses, the governor, the gov’s budget director, the legislative fiscal analyst. We get done with the meeting and are walking out and I make a discovery. I’ve just attended a meeting with the highest officials in our state government with a dirty diaper in my briefcase…. Ah, politics….

One more tidbit....

So I was just digging through my bottom drawer looking for tasty snacks and I found some candy. Milkfulls. Particularly hilarious as I am currently hooked up to the Holstein-Machine and glugging away. I am the original two-tank milk truck.

I just figured this out....

I stopped at the gas station this morning. First, let me say, “$2.25?!?!?!?” Whoa. That would explain why the-guy-with-the-cute-butt-that-I-married has not been driving the Big Dodge. Holy Buckets, Gas Boy….. I just about maxed out my AmEx filling the Toyota. Since when did fuel cost more than Prada? (Ok, side note here. You may have guessed by now that I don’t fuel up very often. It is just another of my unintended super powers…. Somehow the spousal-unit always fills the tank. It might be because he is allergic to a half-full tank.)

Destructo-Boy May 2005

Destructo-Boy May 2005
Originally uploaded by Homestead.

Do you see the look on his face?

Do you see where his finger is?

Do you wonder about the future when you realize there is a pajamaed crusader with his finger on the dynamite box?

Son, use your powers for good.

Wandering the halls of BSH*

* And before you ask, yes, my high school was BS High. (Blue Sky)

You know that girl in high school that you never got along with? The one who made your life difficult in so many petty little ways? The one who now sends out shotgun emails about her new quad-level house, her recent vacation to Disneyland and how she is dashing off to “the club” so she has to go? You know that girl? I got an email from her this morning.

Well, I just had to look…. It’s like a car wreck. I see who it is from and think, “I should just delete this.” But do I? No. I read it. I think. I try to let it go. But I have to respond….. You all need to know how it really is. Consider this the Christmas letter I’ve always wanted to write….

You have a fat ass. You have always had a fat ass. Yes, your waist is slender and lovely but cinching a tiny belt around it does not, in any way, de-emphasize the largeness that is your rear. And me? In spite of the THIRTY pounds I have gained since high school graduation I still have a fabulous ass. Know this.

Know that telling me you are dashing off to “the club” does not impress me. My friends & I go to the gym, sometimes, to sit in the hot tub or take the kids swimming and sometimes we even work out a little… but we do not “dash off to the club.” Ever.

You casually drop into an email that you HAD to take a picture of your daughter driving the New Expedition. Yes, I see that it has nice leather seats. Yes, I covet your leather. No, I have never owned a Brand New Vehicle. No, I probably never will. I still have a fabulous ass.

You went on vacation to Disneyland with your small children. I wonder what combination of heavy-duty pharmaceuticals and alcohol made that experience bearable?

It is so good to see that you still wear your hair in that attractive mullet style. Oh, and can I offer a friendly suggestion? Maybe try Rogaine for Women.

You never talk about your husband. Is that because he is a pussy-whipped, miserable little man with a smallish penis? Or are you simply such the perfect woman that you don’t actually need to acknowledge him?

You did so many horrible things to me in high school. It wasn’t a case of the popular girl picking on the nerd. It was really more a case of a mean-spirited, prune-faced, horrible girl trying to make everyone around her look bad so she would look good. Guess what? It didn’t work out so well did it? Did you know we, the girls you knew in high school, all roll our eyes and email each other and talk about what a twit you are?

In a twisted way I feel sorry for you. You are so insecure as to think these things matter. As I grow and mature I look back on your past behavior and I can see it for what it was. Yes, it still hurts, but, really, it was a pathetic attempt, on your part, to get attention. So I forgive you. And I hope some day you learn to forgive yourself for whatever it is you have done that makes you think you need to prove something to the rest of us. We would accept you… hell, we might even like you…. If you would just stop being such a show off.

Oh, and yes, I still have a fabulous ass.

I feel like a doofus.

I can’t help it. Whenever I post a comment on someone else’s blog I feel like such a moron. Is this some bizarre and previously undetected self-consciousness? As soon as I hit “post” I think, “Oh, that was a stupid thing to say” or “Shit. Did I spell commitment wrong again?” (Hah! I typed this in “word” and it will NOT let me spell it with two t’s.)

When someone posts a comment on my blog I feel great. Even if it is just a simple thing I think, “Wow. Someone actually read this?” This need for validation cracks me up. The whole point of starting a blog was not to write for an audience but to have a visible method of chronicling daily life in a creative way and, well, because it is cheaper than therapy.
So if I don’t post on your blog it isn’t because I’m not reading it. I’m reading it. Believe me. Just understand that the inner geeky me (the scrawny 4th grader with the big glasses who got yelled at for reading too much on the bus and was always picked last for dodge ball) is simply amazed and overwhelmed and just a little afraid…..

I ALMOST have it....

Um. Ok. I need a flickr tutorial now. I keep trying to do “blog this” and it keeps making me re-register my blog and then I get trapped in an endless loop and I feel like Alice in Wonderland when she ate that shrinking mushroom.

And I need a linking tutorial. How do you do that thing where you type someone’s name and have it link to their site? And how do I make a link to another post on my site?