Friday, July 31, 2009

The Ultimate Sacrifice

I don’t talk too much about Hugh’s career in law enforcement here on this blog. I’ve touched briefly on the fact that he is a Reserve Officer on the small police force in our little town and about how he sometimes instructs newbie officers at the local training academy.

I don’t really talk about how he used to support us solely on a policeman’s salary or about how hard that time was on us as a young married couple. I don’t tell you about how little money he made or about how disturbing some of the things he saw were and, while I could mention the fact that he once saved the life of a six-day old baby or that he was the one to discover the body of a dear family friend while on duty; I don’t.

I don’t because those are the things that come with being married to a police officer and, I knew that going into it; I chose to support his choice of careers and, I did my best to be a good cop’s wife.

When Hugh made the difficult decision to leave full-time law enforcement in order to provide our family with a better income, more quality time together and better peace of mind; I also supported his decision to remain active on the Reserves because, once a cop, always a cop. I understood his need to remain loyal to his unofficial brotherhood.

Today, Hugh attended the funeral of one of those brothers, an officer killed in the line of duty. He wasn’t alone; hundreds of officers from every branch of law enforcement from every corner of our state and beyond also attended the funeral. They were joined by hundreds of members of our community, people who wanted to show their support for a man, an officer, a protector. They lined the streets of our town, hands over hearts, openly weeping, saluting a fallen hero.

Police officers are men and women who get up every morning, kiss their families goodbye and set out to protect the citizens of their communities. They want nothing more than to honor the badge, to set a good example for the public they serve and to foster a feeling of safety among it’s’ people before-God willing- returning to their loved ones.

Last Saturday, Sgt. David Kinterknect didn’t get to go home.

Today, he, and his entire brotherhood of law enforcement officers, were honored for their service; I just wish it didn’t take such tragedy to remind us of the sacrifices made by those who Serve and Protect.
In Which I Admit to Laziness and Sloth

The children are coming home today and, while I will miss having a house that actually stays clean for longer than an hour at a time; I’m really looking forward to having the little monsters back, if for no reason other than the fact that, were it not for the children, I might never cook a full meal again, as evidenced by the multiple trips to restaurants that Hugh and I have taken this past week.

I wish I could blame my lack of exercise on their absence, as well but, you know, not so much.

Instead, I have determined that I am becoming a sloth. I’m not happy with this turn of events and, I do intend to make some changes but, yeah, pure sloth.

Yesterday, I came home from work, fully intending to drag my ass to the gym. Instead, I sat down on the couch with the remote control and a super-sized box of Goldfish crackers then, before I knew it, I fell asleep, still clutching several golden fishes in each hand which, on a toddler, would have been adorable. On a grown woman? Pathetic.

The impromptu nap reminded me of a conversation that I had with my five-year old nephew last week; he informed me that his momma was taking a nap because she was “tired, so, soo, tiiiired” and, I can relate because, lately, I am tired, so, sooo tiiired, too.

The exhaustion has no known cause and, I’m starting to wonder if it’s time to have my thyroid checked again or, if I should just lay off the donuts, 3 Musketeers and heavy restaurant foods and actually get my ass off the couch and back into the gym. I’m fairly confident it is the latter rather than the former which sucks because; popping a pill every day is waayy easier than lifting weights, squatting with a bar and running endless circuits around the local park (see above: lazy and sloth like).

Anyway, I have made a commitment to myself to get it together again. Tomorrow starts a new month and, with the kids starting school again in just a couple of weeks, I should be able to get back on a schedule that will allow me to better police myself you know, God willing and if I can overcome being tired, so, soo tiiiired.

Fingers crossed.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Thirteen Things, Edition Ten:
Thirteen Things I Learned at My Grandmother’s House

1. The best smell in the world is bread, fresh from the oven and nothing tastes quite as good as that first slice, slathered with sweet butter.

2. That, standing slack jawed in terror while your sister is being mauled by the neighbor’s dog is not the most effective way to deal with the problem. Opening the gate to let her in the yard; much better.

3. How to say the Rosary.

4. How to embroider pillowcases.

5. How to be a gracious loser. Because, the fact that you are a kid doesn’t necessarily mean that adults will automatically throw the game of Aggravation; sometimes, they will knock your marble right off the board and cackle with glee while doing so.

6. Vegetable gardens are hard work but, fresh peas eaten right out of the pod are worth the effort.

7. Easy-Off Oven Cleaner is not an effective mosquito repellant. It will, however, peel the skin right off your legs, if you are interested in doing so.

8. How to roll a cigarette and how to tamp the tobacco down in a pipe.

9. There is no need to panic when your older sister locks you in the tool shed to get even with you for not opening the damn gate while the neighbor’s dog was gnawing a hunk out of her ass, your grandmother will eventually come looking for you.

10. Grandmothers will never criticize your mud pies.

11. Eating pancakes before going to school makes the day seem brighter.

12. How to can every vegetable known to man as well as how to make jam from every available fruit.

13. I was not adopted from gypsies, despite what my older sister told me.

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others’ comments. It’s easy, and fun!

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Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Someday, We’ll Find It

Hugh and I are taking full advantage of our mini-vacation from the kids, the other night we actually went out to eat. In a restaurant. With cloth napkins.

On our way to the restaurant, we saw a person in a pig costume, shilling on the side of the road for a local rib joint and the sight prompted one of the best conversations that we have had in a while.

Chelle: What is that?

Hugh: It’s a pig. Well, technically, it’s a person in a pig costume.

Chelle: God, that must be awful; where do you think someone even finds a pig costume?

Hugh: On the internet, they just Google “sexy pig costume” and they’re good to go.

Chelle: There is nothing sexy about that pig.

Hugh: True. They should have Googled “Miss Piggy costume”, instead.

Chelle: Miss Piggy? You think Miss Piggy is sexy?

Hugh: Ooh, yeahhh…in fact, you should totally get a Miss Piggy costume, yourself; we’d have a good time with that.

Chelle: Well, fine. But, I'm only wearing it if you sing The Rainbow Connection in the voice of Kermit the Frog while I do.

Hugh: I don’t even know that song.

Chelle: Well, you’re the Google expert, have at it.

I’m pleased to report that Hugh now knows all the words to The Rainbow Connection. We’re still working on the Kermit voice, however and, I flat out refuse to wear Miss Piggy’s hooker heels.

I’m just saying.

In news not related to Muppets, last night, I won $18 for the most Buncos at Bunco. It is my first ever win and I’m quite proud of myself.

On the other hand, it just occurred to me that, when the children are grown and gone; I’m probably going to spend a lot of time talking about dice games and Muppet porn.

This does not bode well.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Tuesdays With The Teenager
Edition Two: Always Listen to Your Mother

Monday, July 27, 2009

No Matter What, There Is Always Laundry

I got back from Mayberry around seven last night and spent a few hours cleaning house and unpacking. I have a lot more cleaning to do today but, I’m employing the Scarlett O’Hara approach to the situation and, I’ll think about that later.

Happily, and, contrary to my worst fears; Hugh did not kill my garden in my absence, in fact, it appears to have exploded while I was away and I am looking forward to harvesting a bumper crop of tomatoes, lettuce, arugula, peppers, cucumbers, Japanese eggplant and green beans this evening.

However, before I can do that, I need to head to the store to catch up on my work. Emily handled things in my absence but, it’s Monday and that always means a full day’s work.

I also need to catch up on the laundry because; my life is Just. That. Exciting.

It is also very quiet without the children who, as I’ve mentioned, are staying with my parents in Mayberry this week. I have no doubt they are going to have a lot more fun without me than I am without them since their days will consist of spoilage at the hands of my parents while my days will consist of cleaning the spoiled items out of the fridge. Doesn’t quite seem fair but, I guess that’s how it goes.

In other whiney news, I miss my girlfriends, already; we had such a good time at Stampede and, even though my sides are still sore from all the laughing, I would take an evening with them over a Monday at work any day.

Of course that could just be because I’m lazy but, whatev.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

A Bottle of Wine, Numerous Gin and Tonics and I'm Still Standing

As my week in Mayberry comes to a close, I am grateful for the many ways in which I have been blessed. I have a wonderful family; they are supportive and loving and fun. I have lifelong friends who never tire of hearing my stories, even when I am retelling them for the million and tenth time. My kids are healthy and happy and they enjoy the company of thier cousins and grandparents-so much so that, when I leave Mayberry today; they will stay behind for a week of spoiling. I have a husband who indulges my need to spend a week here each year and who never complains about having to hold my hair back when I puke-you know, on those rare occasions when it happens (not this year! whoo!).

Today, I am headed back to Petticoat Junction. Hugh will be out of town on business for a couple of days and, with the kids here, I'll have the house to myself. After this much activity and company, I'm betting I'll get a tad bit lonely but; I can always look back at the dozens of pictures I have taken this week if I need a reminder of the fact that I am never, truly, alone.

That's the biggest blessing of all.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Thursday Thirteen, edition Nine:
Thirteen Favorite Things About My Hometown

1. The small of the rain on newly cut alfalfa.
2. The neon yellow of the canola Fields.
3. The slow pace.
4. The fact that people wave at passing cars even though they don't know who is in them.
5. Happy hour at the Sonic Drive-In.
6. The running path around the park.
7. Having the opportunity to catch up with old friends.
8. My parent's backyard.
9. My parents, but; that goes without saying.
10. Watching the squirrels that live in the ancient tree in my parents front yard while drinking a cup of coffee that I didn't have to make.
11. The fact that my kids can walk to the park, the playground at the school, the snow cone shack down the block or to the golf course without my having to worry about them in the least.
12. The quaintness of Main Street.
13. The fact that it will always be home.

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others’ comments. It’s easy, and fun!

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Wednesday, July 22, 2009

There's No Place Like Home

I am enjoying my time with my family and friends here in Mayberry. Yesterday, the kids and I joined "Aunt" Jules, her actual real-life, blood related niece and nephew, and her father on a trip to the local swimming hole. And, by local swimming hole, I mean that we drove twenty miles into the boondocks (think, The Hills Have Eyes) to swim at a natural hot springs. It was a blast and I really enjoyed catching up with Jules, who has recently moved from California to Texas and who now takes great delight in trying to convince me that everything is bigger in Texas.

Last night, my sister Barbie and my nephew arrived from the big city and, this morning, after my run (a mile! At a higher altitude! What was I thinking?!) , Barbie and I got in some quality sunbathing time. As of right now, I have a baffling sunburn pattern that encompasses a v-shape in my cleavage, a full-on neck burn and a Lilly-white swathe across my chest and throat; I'm thinking Sunscreen Application for Dummies might be a good book to invest in.

Tomorrow, the Stampede doings begin in earnest, with a parade, chuck wagon dinner, the Rodney Atkins concert and a dance. Hugh is scheduled to join us later this weekend so, if I were to somehow find myself interested in doing the country two-step, I will have to recruit a cowboy from the crowd. As it is, I have very little desire to shake my groove thing so; I can wait for Hugh's arrival.

Of course, that might all change with the addition of alcohol.

I'll keep you posted.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Tuesdays With The Teenager
Edition 1: How NOT to Dress Like a Skank

Monday, July 20, 2009

Greetings from Camp Itchy-Scratchy

Our weekend trip to the lake was fun for the whole family, if you ignore the part where giant mosquitoes attempted to abscond with every ounce of our blood, that is.

Actually, that may be a slight exaggeration; it was the blood of Huh and the Man-Cub that they were mostly after, the Teenager, kaz and I got off with only a few nibbles compared to the mauling experienced by the boys.

Other than the pest population, the trip was a lot of fun. Hugh and the Cub went up on Friday night and slept on the boat as there were no campsites left in the recreational area (Chelle: Really, don’t you think you should call for a reservation before you head all the way up there? Hugh: Pshaw, there will be a spot).

The Cub loved sleeping on the boat, of course and, he enjoyed some one-on-one time with his father, the dog, a fishing pole and the night stars.

Speaking of fishing, I am proud to report that the Cub caught a monster of a fish.

Hugh caught a monster of a weed but, bless his heart, he tried.

Saturday morning, the girls and I met the men folk at the marina and we set off for a fun-filled day of boating, swimming (the girls; the Man-Cub was relegated to floating in the tube since he still can’t get his incision wet and; can you believe that just a week ago he was being sawed open like a holiday turkey? Me neither!), fishing and watching the girls fry in the summer sun despite the fact that I implored them to use one of the 20 bottles of sunscreen which I had so thoughtfully packed.

By the time we got home, we were exhausted, in a good way.

Today, the kids and I pack up the car for the trip to Mayberry. The Teenager has been packed and ready to go for at least a week now and, last night, the Cub threw an armful of clothing at me and declared himself ready to go.

I’m tempted to let his choices go unchallenged but, I do have some pride in the appearance of my offspring so; I should probably go and pack a decent suitcase for him.

Right after I finish my coffee, of course.

So, tomorrow, I will be blogging live from my father’s den; it beats trying to blog from a boat bobbing on the water, I assure you.

And, you know, it's home.

Friday, July 17, 2009

I suck at the Updating

In my defense, my life is boring and, therefore, I have nothing to report.

I suppose I could tell you that the Man-Cub is making a full recovery following his appendectomy, which he is. In fact, he has already been on the phone with his grandfather, trying to arrange a golf date when we visit Mayberry next week.

The Teenager is being a teenager but; she is also excited about our trip to Mayberry and has already packed her suitcase even though we don’t leave until Monday.

In other trip news, we have finally made plans for our trip to Lake Powell next month and we are all looking forward to that. We haven’t used the boat nearly as much as we had hoped to this summer so, the trip will be nice.

On the topic of the boat, we are planning to take it to the lake tomorrow despite the fact that the Man-Cub cannot get in the water. I am supposed to learn how to drive the boat well enough to pull Hugh on the wakeboard; the faint sounds of yelling you hear reverberating throughout the country will be my husband, please prepare yourselves.

And, speaking of being prepared, Hugh just informed me that we are going to camp at the lake tonight so that we can get an early start, tomorrow. I think he smoked some dope while I was in the shower and is hallucinating because, yeah, that is sooo not happening.

Monday, July 13, 2009

We Interrupt This Weekend to Remove a Completely Unnecessary Organ

Until 8:00 Saturday evening, I was enjoying a fairly relaxing weekend. Emily, the Man–Cub and I had ventured to Neighboring City to peruse the newly released Hallmark Christmas ornaments and, after brief stops at Old Navy and Barnes & Noble, had enjoyed a pleasant ride home.

I had grocery shopping to do and, while the Man-Cub just loves to follow me around the grocery store, begging for treats and being routinely and consistently denied; he instead chose to stay with Oscar and Emily for the day.

The Teenager had just returned from a slumber party and was in no mood to haul groceries, either and Hugh was working so; I was on my own. It was kind of nice, quiet and unrushed and, in hindsight, totally the calm before the storm.

Oscar and Emily dropped the Man-Cub back at our house shortly after dinner. Emily said that the Cub had started complaining of a stomachache a few hours previously and that he was starting to complain of nausea and, as evidence to support his claims, while we were in the kitchen discussing the possibility of sunstroke, the Cub was in the bathroom revisiting his chicken dinner, in a not good way.

Oscar and Emily said goodbye and The Teenager and I did our best to make the Cub comfortable. When he was still complaining about the pain in his right side thirty minutes later, I decided that it was no ordinary stomachache and, after consulting my personal crack medical team (Mom, my sister and Dr. Google); Hugh, The Teenager and I loaded the Cub in the car and headed for the emergency room.

During the ten minute drive, the Cub stopped complaining about the pain, which seemed worse when he moved (pulled muscle?) and was joking around with his sister which made Hugh question why, exactly, we were about to sign ourselves up for monetary rape. I had my doubts as well but, figured better safe than sorry and, that is how we found ourselves in the ER waiting room at 8:00 Saturday night.

The admitting nurse listened to the Cub’s symptoms and agreed that appendicitis was the most likely culprit behind the pain but, like us; was amazed at the Cub’s good humor and positive attitude so, maybe it was just a stomach bug after all, but, better safe than sorry (Better safe than sorry would become our motto for the evening).

The Cub’s temperature registered at 100.8. We found out later that his white blood count was 16,000 and that the appendix was inflamed to nearly the point of bursting. Had we waited even an hour longer to get him to the hospital, it probably would have burst and the relatively good experience that we had would have been dramatically different.

As it was, the Cub cheerfully endured the insertion of an IV, an ultrasound, surgery and recovery from anesthesia, all in less than twelve hours time.

I’m still kind of amazed at how quickly it happened. The surgical team was called in at 10:00, they rolled the Cub into the OR at 11:00 and he was in the recovery room by 11:45. We had a private room by 12:45 and, after taking The Teenager home, grabbing some clothing for the Cub and myself and whipping out a few quick texts to family and driving back to the hospital; the Cub and I were settled in for the night.

Hugh went home to stay with The Teenager and, the Cub and I managed to get a few hours of sleep (in a hospital, shocking!).

By 10:30 Sunday morning, the Cub was able to walk around a bit, had peed in a bottle (You want me to do what? Suh-weet!) five times and was complaining of pain only when he laughed, coughed, moved too quickly or stretched in a certain way so; the surgeon discharged him into our care and, following a wheelchair ride out of the hospital (You want me to ride in what? Suh-weet!), we were on our way.

Before heading home, we stopped at a restaurant for breakfast and the Cub polished off a bowl of jello (courtesy of a very nice waitress who inquired about the hospital bracelet still on the Cub’s wrist and who felt sorry for him and his HUGE one inch incision), a baseball shaped pancake, two sausages, a slice of bacon and a large chocolate milkshake (which was supposed to be a kid’s sized shake but, once again, thanks to the very kind waitress).

The Cub spent the rest of yesterday on the couch with the remote control and a stack of DVDs. I puttered around the house, doing laundry, cutting lettuce from the garden (bounty! Mother lode! Story for another day!) and thanking God for giving me the good sense to listen to the little voice inside my head that told me the Cub wasn’t just having a little rumbly in the tumbly.

And, you know, thanking Him for the Man-Cub in general.

Today, the Man-Cub is happy to report that his soreness is “not that bad” and that he can’t wait until school starts so he can show the girls his cool scar and, maybe, just maybe, that is why God gave little boys appendixes; they certainly have no other use as far as I can tell.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

Thursday Thirteen, edition Eight:
Thirteen Ways to Screw up a Perfectly Good Wednesday

1. Immediately upon awakening, discover a steaming pile of cat puke. With your foot.

2. Stumble to the kitchen for a cup of coffee only to discover that you have no coffee.

3. Make a quick jaunt to the nearby convenience store for emergency java. Pour it down your gullet like it is the last cup of coffee on the face of the earth. Discover, too late, that it consists of a quarter inch of coffee ground sludge on the bottom of the cup. Try not to vomit. Fail.

4. Realize that you are now running late for work. Rush home to shower. No hot water, of course.

5. Arrive at work slightly behind schedule, sweaty, flustered and out of breath.

6. Spend the next four hours fending off a stray hair that is determined to poke you in the eye until you go blind.

7. Which reminds you that your son has an appointment for vision therapy in the town forty minutes away. Realize this forty-five minutes before said appointment.

8. Spend twenty minutes stuck in road construction on the way to appointment.

9. Try to call the vision therapist to tell her you will be late, no cell phone service. Of course.

10. Catch one small break when you remember that you have a car phone, thanks to the money your husband sends to OnStar. Call the clinic, get a busy signal. Of course.

11. Develop a headache, courtesy of the asphalt fumes.

12. Upon returning home later that evening, get into an argument with your teenage daughter. Make her cry.

13. In the piece de résistance, accidentally slip on the staircase; take the last ten steps on your ass. Thank the good lord for tender mercies; you could have been seriously injured were it not for the natural protection you have in the form of the fat pad you recently accumulated on said ass. Call it a day and go to bed. Pray for a better day, tomorrow.

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others’ comments. It’s easy, and fun!

Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

Will Someone Please Tell Me What the Hell is Up With My Boobs?

I know I’ve gained a bit of weight compared to my glory days, that’s the price we pay for the privilege of growing old, but, seriously; did it all have to go to my chest?

Currently, I am hauling around a rack reminiscent of my post-natal days-humongous, painful and terrifying to behold and, while I realize that hormones, lifestyle, my advancing age and the inability to exercise at the intensity that I used to be able to exercise at are all having a cumulative effect on my body; I don’t have to be happy about it.

And, lest you are one of those people who think that hauling around a huge rack is a good thing, please consider the fashion ramifications; nothing I own fits me without a) pulling across the chestal region, b) showing waaay more cleavage than I am comfortable with, or c) creating a uniboob straight across my chest which trust me, is not a look that any sane person strives to achieve.

I am beginning to fear that a trip to the bra store is in order and that I am going to have to submit to actual measurement of the area for fitting purposes; being groped by a gum-chewing teeny bopper in the dressing room at Victoria’s Secret is so not the way I want to spend my free time.

I could be eating a donut and encouraging my ass to catch up with my boobs which, is going to have to happen eventually or, I am going to topple over under the sheer weight of them.
And, that's not me being paranoid, that's physics, people.

Monday, July 06, 2009

Well, That Was Uneventful

My holiday weekend was quiet as planned. I did a little shopping, got some extra sleep, ate my weight in fresh cherries, read a book, made a huge dent in my scrapbooking and supervised a small get-together of The Teenager’s friends for the fireworks on the Fourth.

It was an impromptu gathering-set in motion by the fact that one of The Teenager’s classmates is moving away this week and The Teenager and her friends wanted a chance to say goodbye to him as well as wanting a fun place to watch the fireworks; our house was perfect on both fronts.

Because it was The Teenager’s first coed party and because, contrary to popular opinion, I don’t want to be responsible for her dying of embarrassment; I did my best to be as inconspicuous as possible throughout the evening.

My parental supervision consisted of frequent stealth visits to the yard where the kids were gathered on the trampoline before dark. after dark, I insisted that the porch light be left burning until the fireworks started which, actually occurred much later than originally planned due to a thunderstorm that blew through town.

Once the fireworks began, however, I allowed the porch light to be turned off and then paid the Man-Cub five dollars to observe the party through his night vision goggles. He reported no attempts at kissing or handholding and only a couple of instances of nose-picking so; all was well.

Once the fireworks ended, I drove two of the boys home because I didn’t want them to walk six blocks in the dark. They thanked me for my concern and agreed that it was, indeed, quite dark. Kaz, who was spending the night with us, voiced concern about Rabies-infected bears while The Teenager suggested the dangerous possibility of giant man-eating snakes or, god forbid, radioactive spiders.

Personally, I was thinking of the danger posed by pedophiles but, you know, why ruin their innocence at this point?

And, everyone made it home safe and we can mark another successful Fourth of July on the books. It may not have been the most exciting of holidays but I can say I got a lot accomplished and, with any luck, we will make up for the quiet with a raging Belated Fourth of July porch night later this week.

After all, there is no rule that says we should only celebrate our independence once a year. And, if there is, I don't want to hear about it.

Friday, July 03, 2009

My Holiday Weekend is Going to be SO Exciting!

First, I’m going to sleep in! Then, I’m going to eat breakfast on my porch and, when the mood strikes juuuust right, I’m going to drive to Neighboring City for an adventure in the concrete jungle known as Sam’s Club. Can you sense my enthusiasm?

Seriously, though; Hugh is working a private security gig at a big Christian concert festival thingie-ma-jig so, our plans for a lake outing were put on the back burner. The kids aren’t terribly disappointed because, they get to attend the festival which features a carnival and food booths and a large number of their friends from school.

As long as they check in with him; Hugh feels comfortable letting the kids roam the festival with their friends which means that I don’t have to drag my ass out into the heat with a lawn chair and an umbrella to supervise their trips to the Tilt-o-Whirl, to veto their choice in snack foods or to hand over money once they run through their allowance.

Instead, as I mentioned, I will engage in some retail therapy, possibly read a good book while sunning myself in the backyard or, if the weather turns sucky; catch up on my scrapbooks. Then, I will join Hugh and the kids at the park later in the evening for dinner and the fireworks finale. I can think of far worse ways to spend the holiday.

Oh, I can think of far better ways but, you know, I try to look on the bright side and, the money that Hugh makes on this security detail will go a long way in funding our trip to Lake Powell so, it’s all good.

And it’s not like I’m missing fireworks or anything.

Thursday, July 02, 2009

Thursday Thirteen, Edition Seven:

Thirteen “She Said What?” Moments.

And, yes, I’ve said them all.

1. “Well, it’s not the first time I’ve peed in a strange place in the dark.” (Said while in the company of a rather conservative woman from my Service Club upon entering a dark public restroom.)

2. “And it probably won’t be the last, ha, ha!” (for the record, she did not share in my laughter)

3. “Those aren’t melons, these are melons.” (Said to The Teenager in the supermarket, she was referring to honeydew; I was referring to my breasts. She was mortified; my work there was done)

4. “Now I understand why Seattle is the suicide capital of the US.” (said while experiencing particularly gloomy weather on a daily basis earlier this summer and, unfortunately; in the company of a woman who hails from….Seattle)

5. “How many times do I have to tell you not to stick your finger into strange holes?” (said to the Man-Cub on occasions too numerous to mention)

6. “I would but, I forgot my tittie tassels.” (Said to another woman in my Service Club when she suggested that I dance on the table in appreciation of one of our more colorful guest speakers. She found it quite humorous, many of the other ladies at the table…did not)

7. “Are you serious? Do I look like I’m five?” (said to the ancient ticket-taker at the theater last weekend when, upon entering the theater, he asked me to remove my gum from my mouth lest I surrender to the overwhelming urge to stick it under my seat during the movie)

8. “I thought about leaving her for dead but, we sort of need the tax deduction.” (In reference to The Teenager after a frantic call, pleading with me to rescue her from the nearby park because she had a blister on her heel and the three-block walk home would most certainly kill her. She walked. She lived. The tax deduction is secure)

9. “What were you, raised in a barn?” (said to Hugh, while in the company of his mother who assured me, in no uncertain terms, that he was not raised in a barn although; she did once consider leaving him at a stranger’s farm)

10. “I’m dumping you? You never say “I’m dumping you”! You say, “It’s not you, it’s me…” (said to the Man-Cub while boarding the bus for a field trip seconds after he “broke up” with his little “girlfriend”. Yes, he’s ten)

11. “True Blood is like porn for the masses. I like porn”. (Said while in the company of my mother-in-law just seconds before the earth opened up and swallowed me whole. What? The earth didn’t open up and swallow me whole? Oh, right; wishful thinking)

12. “If you rub him just right, the stiffness goes away and he won’t walk funny, anymore” (cell phone conversation with The Teenager while standing in line at the grocery check-out. We were discussing Rowdie’s damaged leg but the woman in front of me thought otherwise; some people have such dirty minds)

13. “If you make that farting noise one more time, I’m going to staple your mouth shut and we will have to feed you through a tube in your bellybutton”. (Said to the Man-Cub in the supermarket, in front of numerous witnesses. Child Protective Services were not contacted; the noise bothered the witnesses as much as it bothered me)

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Wednesday, July 01, 2009

We’re Thinking of Changing her Name to Hazel. Or, Maybe Alice.

Every once in a great while, The Teenager gets into what she calls a “cleaning mood” wherein she power-cleans her room, her bathroom, the closets or whatever else appears abhorrently filthy to her. Yesterday, she found the Man-Cub’s room particularly offensive and she organized an assault on it that would have left military commanders weeping with envy.

For his part, the Cub trailed behind, following whatever orders his sister barked at him and trying to remain brave in the face of the total annihilation of his carefully constructed pig stye.

I Was at the hardware store during the invasion but, The Teenager kept me in the loop with frequent and colorful texts; little ditties such as

Do you want to know how many movies I found in your son’s room? Do you?!?


Mom, we need clean dirt for Tank’s tank, k? Thnkx :)

And, my personal favorite

Well, at least now we know where all his dirty underwear has been going….I think I’m going to hurl.

I am proud to say, she is now fully qualified to parent small boys one day.

Or, for a career in hazardous waste removal; same thing, really.

She also bakes a mean cinnamon-sugar tortilla chip.