Monday, May 31, 2010

This Kind of Reminds Me of the Time My Niece Was Almost Eaten by a Mountain Lion

Lucky for her, she was on horseback and her horse was faster than the cat. As it is, this picture was taken during the Never-Ending Afternoon that Hugh, the Man-Cub and I spent in the brand new Cabelas that recently opened in Neighboring City.

And, the next time that Hugh volunteers to join me on my Sam’s Club run; I am totally going to know better than to say “Sure, hon! It’ll be great having company!” because, my ass will inevitably end up in the Bargain Cave, searching for a helluvadeal on fish finders or binoculars or power bait or some such other decidedly non-girlie bit of paraphernalia.

On the bright side, I did manage to sneak away from the men folk (their attention was on a tree stand display) for a quick jaunt to Victoria’s Secret; a diversion which proved successful in washing the stink of testosterone right off me and I had the opportunity to spend ten minutes with one of my college roommates whose husband had dragged her all the way from the town of our alma mater (Three and a half hours away) to accompany him on his personal pilgrimage to “the greatest outdoors store in all the world” (the Man-Cub’s quote, not mine) so; I really came out ahead when you think about it.

Plus, it could have been way worse; I could have been spending the entire day at the Junior College World Series of Baseball.

Whew! Dodged that bullet.

Hey, speaking of bullets, did you know that you can get a helluvadeal on ammunition at Cabelas? Well, now you know. and, if a mountain lion ever tries to eat your niece, you'll be totally prepared to defend her life.

You're welcome.

Sunday, May 30, 2010

It’s a Beautiful Day in Our Neighborhood

We returned from Mayberry this afternoon and I have been enjoying a lovely evening in my garden. The wind that has blown so consistently over the past few weeks appears to have calmed down, the sun is shining and the temperature is hovering in the high 70’s. My garden is growing as well as I had hoped it might and, with any luck, we will have a crop of peas this year; the first time since we started growing vegetables in 2004.

As Martha would say, it’s a good thing.

Other good things this holiday weekend included my nephew’s graduation, time spent with my parents, sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew and an evening of laughter, wine-sipping and tripping down memory lane with my college roommate, the lovely Phoebe, she of the laughing eyes and bubbly personality.

My kids had a grand time playing with Phoebe’s kids, we got to plan our next Girl’s Weekend and I feel re-charged and ready to take on the world, again.

Tomorrow, I am taking the Cub to Neighboring City to shop for summer clothing; let’s hope my charge lasts.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

My Nephew is a High School Graduate; My Daughter is an Honor Student and I Am Lazy

The Rebel Without a Pause made it through his graduation ceremony and the parties that followed. He is officially an adult member of polite society; fathers, lock up your daughters.

Before we left Petticoat Junction for the drive to Mayberry, we stopped at the post office to pick up the mail. In our box we found The Teenager’s end-of-quarter grades as well as a certificate declaring her a bona-fide member of the Honor Roll; proud much? Yes, yes indeed.

This morning, I had every intention of getting up early to run in a 5K benefitting the scholarship fund of a fallen soldier; you know what they say about good intentions, right?

Friday, May 28, 2010

Friday Flashback: Graduation

We are headed to Mayberry today to watch my nephew graduate from high school. It’s hard to believe he is already old enough to finish school but, there it is.

I hope he has a great day and that the after-parties are as much fun as the party that my parents threw for my graduating class, because, while the details of my actual graduation ceremony are a dim memory for me (there was a balloon drop at the very end, I do remember that much), the memory of that party is still rather vivid.

Most likely because my mom’s purse was stolen by a guy that I had briefly dated when I was a sophomore, a guy who wasn’t even invited to the party but managed to sneak in, anyway. Jerk.

Anywaaay…the party was a blast. Back then, eighteen year-olds were allowed to drink alcohol, the policemen in our small town were encouraged to turn a blind eye to teenaged antics (several officers joined the party once they got off duty), my parents were adamant about taking keys away from kids whom they believed were “overly indulgent” (which led to a mass of bodies scattered across every conceivable surface of the house the following morning), the parents of my classmates were invited to attend and, in some cases, were actually more intoxicated than their offspring, I had the privilege of watching it all from the comfort of my own home and; my mother didn’t kill me for unintentionally allowing her purse to be stolen by a punk.

My parents were (and still are) pretty goddamn cool.

Aren’t you just the teeniest bit jealous?

Thursday, May 27, 2010

The Circle of Trust

Earlier this evening, Hugh leaned in to nuzzle my neck and to “tell me a secret” which almost always ends with him sticking his tongue in my ear just to hear me scream. This time, rather than pulling away from him, I leaned back into him and said “I trust you not to give me a Wet Willie because I love you and I have faith that you will do the right thing”.

He then  proceeded to stick his tongue so far down my ear canal, I'm certain he tasted brain.

The circle, it is broken.

Payback is a bitch and I am a patient, patient woman. Also? Creative.

Be afraid, Hugh; be very afraid.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

One Day In

Summer break officially started yesterday, with both kids home. Unofficially, it began on Friday, when the Man-Cub was off and The Teenager was in school for half the day, "in school" meaning; attending an end-of-year pep assembly, obtaining her school yearbook and crying with her friends over the agonizing fact that they would never see each other again. Oh! Except for later that evening when they were all getting together at the Rec. Center for a friend’s birthday. And, oh, yeah, when they would all be rooming together at volleyball camp at the local college. And, of course, when they would see each other at one of the million and ten sleep-overs planned for the summer but, other than that? Yeah, totally never seeing each other again. Tears!

Meanwhile, back on the ranch, despite a plethora of video games, a fully stocked craft closet, 200+ channels on the television and a not-inconsequential list of Honey-Do’s from his mother; the Man-Cub managed to find himself bored by ten a.m. Being resourceful, he called his grandfather and requested a lunch date and a job, both of which were supplied, super-quick. So, the Cub spent the better part of his first day of summer vacation hanging out with his grandpa, pulling weeds and eating hamburgers.

Yesterday, he and his sister entertained themselves by jumping on the new trampoline, watching back-to-back episodes of One Tree Hill and thoroughly trashing the house. Luckily for all of us, Hugh and I had tickets to a fundraising dinner for the local FFA, giving the children plenty of time to clean up after themselves before I was forced to turn harpy, because; death threats on the first official day of summer vacation would not bode well for a fun and relaxing summer.

This morning, I found the Man-Cub asleep on the couch in the playroom, one arm thrown jauntily over his head; the other crammed in his pants, Al Bundy-style.

The Teenager actually got up early and is making plans to ride four-wheelers with Kaz.

Like I said, it's official: Summer break; on like Donkey Kong.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Friday Flashback: Love, in Black and White

The Man-Cub finished school yesterday, The Teenager has a half-day today and then she is done as well. With each milestone the kids achieve, I am reminded of how much fun it has been watching them grow up and, even when they were infants and toddlers and we were struggling through sleepless nights and temper tantrums and near-poverty due to the exorbitant cost of diapers, formula and daycare; they were an awful lot of fun to be around.

The picture above was my very first attempt at black and white photography; the photo hangs on a wall in my home and serves as a reminder of the innocence of my children’s youth, of the bond that they share as siblings and, to me, as tangible evidence of the love that I have for them and for their father.

I see it every day and, every day, I am grateful for the history that we are making, together.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Remember the Day I Took the Man-Cub to His Kindergarten Classroom For the First Time?

Today was just like that only different. Back then, I was reluctant to let go of his tiny little hand, to let another woman take responsibility for the large majority of his waking day. He was less reluctant to see me go; as I recall, he ran to an activity table and waved me away dismissively while exploring the new crayons at his disposal. My feelings weren’t hurt that day; I was proud that he was so brave, so capable of functioning without my constant presence at his side.

Today, I dropped the Man-Cub off at that same elementary school for the very last time and, while I have had my ups and downs with the drop-off lane, I was sad to leave it behind.

Next year, my baby enters Middle School while his sister joins the ranks of the High School crowd.

I’m proud of both of them, excited about the people they are becoming and filled with anticipation for the future ahead of each of them but, truth be told; I wouldn’t trade the memories of their early school years for all the new crayons in the world.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

If Moms Bragging About Their Kids Makes You want To Vomit, You Might Want to Turn Away. Or, Grab a Bucket, Dealer’s Choice

I attended the end-of-year awards assembly at the Man-Cub’s school today and was thrilled to see the Cub awarded for perfect attendance, for the fifth year in a row. Five years without a sick day is a pretty stellar accomplishment, I don’t care how old your autoimmune system is. That said, the Cub caught a cold this week and he coughed and sneezed his way through the entire awards ceremony; people probably think I am a terrible parent who sends her kid to school even when he is sick.

And they would be right.

Anyway, the Cub also received the Distance Award for last week’s annual Walk-a-Thon; he walked 13.6 miles which was farther than anyone else in his classroom! Then, he got the award for raising the most money for the event which, one could argue, was the equivalent of his father and I buying the award for him but, you know, still proud.


Then, because he was on a roll, he also received an Outstanding Artist Award and, at the School Talent Show later in the day, garnered the most audience applause for his pantomime skit with his partner, Emilio.


Feel free to grab that bucket now.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Game Called on Account of Static Electricity

Because, when lightning strikes the field close enough to make your eleven-year olds’ hair stand on end, it’s probably best to get the hell off the pitcher’s mound.

It’s all good, we weren’t exactly winning the game, anyway and, by finishing an hour early, we were home in plenty of time to catch the latest episode of Lost which is what I am watching in between writing this thing and painting my toenails; I’m a multi-tasker that way and, since I’m watching the show, I might as well summarize my reactions to it so, here goes. Warning: Spoilers abound!

Jack, mysteriously bleeding. Hmmmm…

Sawyer, so sad. Sooo pretty but soooo sad.

Miles brings the snark; “I lived there thirty years before you. Of course, that was last week”.

Desmond, man on a mission…to beat up Ben. I say go for it, bud.

Sawyer in cop mode, sooo hot. That is all.

Hurley sees dead people.

Miles, still with the snark; “If you need us, we’ll be running through the jungle”.

Richard. That’s not eyeliner? Like, seriously? Aaannd, he’s toast. Or, smoke. Whichever.

Rousseau! Hai! It’s so nice to see you, you know, alive and, um, sane!

Not-Locke and Widmore, the showdown! Not- Locke threatens to kill Penny, bastard! Ben kills Widmore! Ben is eeevil, again. Still?

OMF! Everyone sees dead people!

Finally! Jacob is going to answer all our questions! Hey, I have one; why is there always one dumbfuck in the school drop-off lane? And, I digress…(but, I’d really like to know, k? Thnx! Bye!)

Locke is starting to get it.

Jacob; “I made a mistake and now everyone you love is going to die.” Well, that’s a downer. “I chose you because you are flawed.” Yeah, that’s not much better. “One of you has to protect the light, blah, blah blah…choose.”

Jack; “I’ll do it.” Of course he will.

That’s it? Seriously? Dude, I still have questions, not including why there is always one dumbf…well, you know.


ANA LUCIA!!! OMF!! I KNEW she would be a dirty cop!

I want Desmond as my personal shopper, jealous!

Not-Locke and Ben, they are the Island’s Lone Ranger and Tonto only eeeeevil.

Wow. I can’t wait until Sunday.

Tonight’s episode was awesome and, obviously far more entertaining than watching my son get zapped into a four foot shish-kabob on the pitcher’s mound.

And not just because Sawyer is hawt, although....yeah.

Monday, May 17, 2010

It’s the Porch Equivalent of Being Locked and Loaded

If Friday felt like a sprint to the finish line, the rest of the weekend was a marathon. After we recovered from the excitement of Continuation and the man-Cub’s first baseball victory, there was much work to be done on the home front and, while I’d like to say that the children joined me in my chores, I would be lying, instead; I found myself alone in the garden while the Man-Cub went on a sleep-over and The Teenager barricaded herself in her room, engaging in long text-message conversations with her friends. I didn’t mind; I like the peace and solitude of gardening alone and I accomplished everything that I had on my To-Do list. I purchased and planted peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers and several varieties of squash, including four butternut squash seedlings because, this year, I will not be defeated by the butternut. Oh, no, I will not be defeated.

Once the vegetable garden was planted, I potted three flats of pansies and two huge hydrangea plants. Then, I cleaned the front porch, organized the wicker, fluffed the cushions and filled the hummingbird feeders. I am officially ready for our first Porch Night.

Not coincidentally, the Man-Cub and The teenager’s last day of school are Thursday and Friday, respectively. To say that they are looking forward to summer break would be a vast understatement and I’m more than a bit concerned that they are each eyeballing the porch for their own entertaining purposes.

Luckily, I am the parent here and I totally call dibs. Also, place-backs on the good recliner, just in case anyone gets any big ideas.

I'm looking at you, Hugh.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Yesterday’s Flashback Friday Was a Bust Because I Was Recovering From the Shock of Having My Daughter Introduced As a Freshman

Also, I was too busy juggling the activities of the children (decorating for the continuation ceremony, annual Walk-a-Thon with the Man-Cub, etc.) to even think about my past, let alone write about it. But, today is Saturday and I’m back in the game, so to speak.

And, on the topics of games; the Man-Cub’s team finally won one last night. I only got to see half of it but, what I saw was exciting if not extremely wet. Seriously, it rained from the first to the last inning and the kids played through it all. The Man-Cub had a great night as far as his pitching went and it was really nice to see the team rewarded with a win.

Meanwhile, The Teenager was basking in the glow of her Continuation festivities. She and her friends gathered at the house for pictures. Some of their parents came along and we spent our time wailing over how quickly they are growing up; there may have been tears but, we swore a vow of secrecy so I can neither confirm nor deny that allegation.

I can tell you that we all agreed our ovaries have turned to dust and the idea of taking long afternoon naps is no longer quite so remote.

And, I digress; back to the youngsters.

So, yes, many pictures were taken before we loaded the group up into three cars and headed for the school where we were treated to a ceremony involving the above-mentioned F word, 89 times.

After the parade of “graduates” received their certificates and all the appropriate speeches were made, the Father/Daughter, Mother/Son dance happened and, again, there may have been tears. Either that or there was an awful lot of dust in that room and it kept getting into adult eyes.

Damn dust.

Finally, the dance was over and Hugh and I left The Teenager in the capable hands of her new dance partner (did I mention that he brought her a flower when he came to the house for pictures? A flower, ohmygawd, my teeth ache from the sweetness) and we headed to the ballpark to catch the last of the Man-Cub’s game and to wring out his uniform once it was over.

Then, as predicted, I went home, had Hugh crack open a bottle of merlot and I eventually slipped into a drooling coma on the couch. In my defense, it had been a long couple of days and, to reiterate, it was a coma, not an old-lady nap; my ovaries might have disintegrated from old age but I am not quite to the afternoon nap stage.


P.S. For all you grandparents out there (you know who you are), a full set of pictures can be found here.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

What a Productive Day I Have Had

I spent the majority of my day reorganizing merchandise displays in the variety store. While I did that, our new store manager worked on finishing up the Storage Closet from Hell and, while she didn’t discover any more plastic boobies, she did unearth a number of knitting patterns from the 1950’s; we are talking Ward Cleaver worthy sweaters, here. In addition to the patterns she found a 1940’s era spool of ribbon with the word VOTE on it in patriotic red, white and blue and, if you don’t think that I immediately fashioned a sash out of that ribbon and festooned yesterday’s plastic boobies with it then you clearly have not met me.

The sash, by the way, was awesome.

Not quite as awesome as the antique apothecary bottle that Hugh found hidden in yet another cupboard but, awesome nonetheless. As an aside, poking around in the dark spaces of a 112 year old building certainly has its perks, plastic boobies notwithstanding.

On a topic not involving female body parts, I had a massage today and it felt wonderful. Oh, wait. That topic does involve female body parts. Oh well, at least they aren’t plastic. Yet, I mean; never say never, right? Gravity is a bitch after all and a gal should keep her options open.

Let’s try this new topic business again, shall we?

I may have mentioned a time or twelve that The Teenager’s continuation dance is tomorrow night. The Man-Cub has a baseball game tomorrow night as well and, in a rare cosmic occurrence, the stars have aligned to allow me to be two places almost simultaneously. Ok, not at all, but here is how I am planning to arrange my schedule:

5:15 Drop Man-Cub off at ballpark, race back to house.

5:30 Meet The Teenager and a gaggle of her friends at the house for informal pictures.

6:00 Race back to the ballpark to watch the Man-Cub throw out the opening pitch.

6:30 Drive back to the house to shuttle The Teenager and her gaggle of friends to the ceremony.

7:00 Watch ceremonial awarding of certificates to 89 eighth grade boys and girls.

7:15 Weep over Hugh and The Teenager during the first dance, which is the Father/Daughter, Mother/Son dance.

7:20 Race back to the ball field to watch the last innings of the Man-Cub’s game.

8:00 Collapse on the couch with a glass of merlot and four or five extra large, extra chocolaty brownies pilfered from the continuation ceremony.

In comparison to today and tomorrow, the weekend should be practically boring but, I’m planning to plant the rest of my garden and all my flowerbeds and boxes. There won’t be any more brownies or plastic boobies but, a girl can’t have everything.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Chelle: Quality Parenting since 1996

-The Teenager’s stitches came out on Monday and the scar is barely noticeable. I purchased sunscreen for her to use throughout the summer in an effort to keep the scar minimal and, because I am easily entertained, I purposely chose the zinc oxide sunscreen that goes on-and stays on-white. I tried to convince her to attend school with it slathered on her nose lifeguard-style but she was having none of it. Her brother, on the other hand, was an easy sell, photos to follow.

-I got a voicemail from the woman who is “in charge” of the Eighth Grade Continuation party and, due to some interference on the line, was able to understand only every third word. I think the jist of the message was that I am expected to contribute sodas and a sweet refreshment to the party. Because I have no regard for the poor schmucks who actually volunteered to chaperone the dance, I am planning to purchase a case of Mountain Dew and a super-sized tray of extra-large, extra chocolate brownies for the festivities. The resulting hyperactivity won’t be my problem and, by the time The Teenager gets home, she should be ready to crash.

-Lately, the Man-Cub has been repeating a joke that he heard on television. The joke isn’t exactly appropriate for an eleven year old and the fact that he follows each telling of it with “I heard it on South Park!” probably doesn’t reflect super-well on my supervisory skills.

-We are cleaning out a storage room at the variety store, a storage room that hasn’t been organized in probably twenty or thirty years (NOT an exaggeration). Among the bizarre and freaky items we have discovered in the room were a couple of plastic busts, probably used to sell jewelry or sweater patterns or some such thing back in the day and; I carelessly allowed them to fall into the hands of the Man-Cub. “Boobies on aisle four!” is a refrain that one doesn’t typically hear….. unless shopping in our store.

-The Teenager asked me to help her pick out a tie for her boyfriend to wear to the dance Friday night. She wanted something that would match or compliment the dress she is planning to wear, the color of which is really difficult to match. When I suggested a tie in a paisley pattern, she made obnoxious retching noises while simultaneously rolling her eyes at me and, I swear to God, snorting (I give the move a nine out of ten for degree of difficulty and an eight out of ten for style). In response, I threatened to do her great bodily harm, possibly involving the use of the paisley tie in question and I did so loudly. And, with pantomime. In the aisle of JC Penneys, where people could see us.

-I found her embarrassment at the situation more amusing than distressing, a fact that left her rather...annoyed. And, I'm writing about it on the internet. That'll teach her to snort at me.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

In Today’s Edition of Life’s Great Mysteries: Why Is There Always One Dumbfuck in the School Drop-off Lane?

Dear Dumbfuck,
The drop-off lane is for dropping your student off at school, not for parking in. If you are ever confused about this again, please refer to the large sign boasting a capital P with a slash through it; this is the universal sign for NO FUCKING PARKING IN THE DROP-OFF LANE.

In case you were confused.

Speaking of the confused, last night I attended an organizational meeting for The Teenager’s upcoming Eighth Grade Continuation ceremony/dance and, I am using the term organizational quite loosely. Indeed, there was less organizing and more parents sitting across from each other in the classic Deer in Headlights pose. I’m still not certain what refreshment I am responsible for contributing to the party nor exactly what will be expected of me when I show up to decorate the school cafeteria for the dance on Friday but, I am going to assume that the woman who is “in charge”, again, a term I use loosely, will have it all under control.

And, yes, I mean this Friday as in three days away because, one of Life’s other Great Mysteries is why no one in our little town can pull their shit together until the last possible minute when planning an event of any kind.

Not that I’m necessarily any better, I’m just saying.

Although, I am better at the whole not parking in the school drop off lane thing because that is just common sense. I mean, really.

Sunday, May 09, 2010

Because It Bears Repeating

Happy Mother's day! I hope you are all enjoying a day of relaxation and complete and utter spoilage at the hands of your offspring. I am personally taking advantage of the sentence "I was in labor with you for 36 hours" in an effort to secure slavery services for the duration and have been impressed with the lengths that the Fruit of My Loins are willing to go to in an effort to please me; every dog has his day, right?

As for my own mother, she is hopefully taking full advantage of the man who made her a mother in the first place and is being equally spoiled and cherished. I certainly cherish her and, if you don't know why, you can read about it here; I've said it before and I'll say it again, Mom, you rock.

Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there.

Friday, May 07, 2010

Friday Flashback: Stitches

Despite evidence to the contrary, my family is neither clumsy nor careless, we are simply accident-prone. The Teenager is simply the latest in a long line of family members who require an occasional trip to the emergency room in order to maintain the balance and equilibrium of the world as we know it; her father and her brother can’t handle it all by themselves you know.

Me? I’m a slacker in this particular regard, not having had stitches since I was, oh, maybe a couple of years younger than The Teenager is right now although; I can remember the incident that required them quite vividly and, I would be willing to bet that my older sister does as well.

It was summertime and my mother was at work, leaving my older sister to care for my younger sister and me.

I was responsible for cleaning out the dishwasher that day and, in an effort to do so in as lazy a way as possible had climbed up onto the counter to put plates in a cabinet rather than taking the extra fifteen steps to obtain a step-stool.

Once the plates were in their proper place, I jumped from the countertop, not realizing that the door to the lower cabinet was slightly ajar, ajar just enough to catch my thigh on the top corner, tearing the flesh in a most brutal way.

I don’t recall feeling any pain, really. I do, however, recall the look of abject horror on my older sister’s face when she happened around the corner and spied the mess.

At that point in time my sister was not good with blood.

 She has come a long way since then, courtesy of her eighteen-year old son who mastered the art of self-injury and, really, puts us all to shame on the Trips to the Emergency Room scale but, I digress.

Back then, as I said, she was not so great with the blood and, blood pouring from an injury that happened while on her watch was particularly distressing to her; she rushed me and my gaping leg wound to the neighbor’s house where my mother was called and, I don’t remember, maybe pressure was applied to the wound or something.

The wound, by the way, didn’t appear to distress my younger sister in the least; she commented on its’ resemblance to a leg of bar-b-qued chicken with a giant bite taken out of it and left it at that.

My mother was equally blasé’ about the injury, making small talk as we drove to the emergency room (you didn’t get any blood on the carpet, did you?). she was, however, less blasé’ about the stitching process, electing to turn away while I watched in fascination as the doctor pulled the needle through my skin, leaving two neat and tidy rows of black x”s, connecting at a point in an inverted v shape (I am less than fascinated by the scar left by said neat and tidy stitches; it is raised and puckered. Needless to say, doctors have come a long way in their stitching prowess since I was a youngster).

As we left the ER, the doctor instructed my mother to keep me out of the water, lest the stitches dissolve or come loose or whatever it was that cat-gut stitches did back in the day and, I was thrilled; no water meant no 5:00 a.m. Swim Team practice! No 6:00 p.m. Swim Tram practice! No competing in that weekend’s swim meet! Hallelujah! I should impale myself on cabinetry more often!

I didn’t. As I’ve said; I seriously lag behind the rest of my people in trips to the ER.

Not surprisingly, I’m ok with that and, if you aren’t quite sure why, please feel free to scroll down and look at that picture of my daughter; she's damn lucky our ER staffs doctors who have training in Plastic Surgery, otherwise the picture might be even less pretty.

Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Nothing Says “I Like You” Quite Like Holding a Bandage Over Your Girlfriend’s Gaping Head Wound

The Teenager had a little accident earlier this evening; she, her boyfriend and another friend were playing in the drive-way when the friend misjudged a scooter stunt and nailed The Teenager in the face. With the scooter.

In case you’ve always wondered what the end result of taking a scooter to the face looks like, allow me to enlighten you.


On the bright side, the emergency room visit and seven resulting stitches means that we totally recouped our Aflac premium for the past six months.

On another bright note, I got to see, first-hand, how The Teenager’s boyfriend handles emergency situations involving gaping wounds; he held his hands over the gash to staunch the blood while dancing around saying something along the lines of “Oh, crap! Oh, crap! Oh, crap!”

If he can bring himself to hold her hair back while she pukes, he has real long-term boyfriend potential; we’re talking college, here.

Tuesday, May 04, 2010

My Compost Bin is Steaming. That’s a Good Thing, Right?

Why, yes it is, at least, according to Composting for Dummies and Google and; information garnered from two independent sources can’t be wrong. Right? Someone tell me I’m right.

So, yes, the composting is a new experience for me. I feel really good about it, smug, almost, I mean; I’m doing something good for the earth. I’m saving heaps of kitchen scraps from the landfill which means that my kitchen waste won’t be spewing methane gas into our atmosphere.

I feel so good about it, in fact, that I’m also considering the purchase and installation of a rain barrel because; rain water that drains into storm sewer systems also pollutes our earth. And, Ok, we don’t actually have a storm sewer system in our small town and our rain water drains into our grass but, still; rain barrels are cool and I want one.

In other news, I plan to stop shaving my legs, to serve more granola and to teach my children the fine art of beading dreadlocks because, in for a penny, in for a pound, I always say.

And, Hugh just threatened me with divorce papers if I do.

Fine. Way to care about the earth, honey!

Monday, May 03, 2010

Much Ado About Nothing

All the stressing I did last week over how to get the Man-Cub from his Friday night baseball game to the Spring Thaw campout while managing to keep my Friday evening facial appointment with the lovely Serena was for naught-both the baseball game and the campout were cancelled on account of the stellar weather we have been having.

The weather then calmed down long enough to allow The Teenager’s track meet to take place as scheduled on Saturday and, with the campout cancelled, Hugh was actually able to attend the meet; a fact The Teenager might have appreciated a tad bit more had he not jumped up and down in the bleachers yelling “Holy, cow! She can run! Look at that stride! Where did that come from?! Ho-lee cow! That’s my daughter!” every time she took to the track.

In his defense, ho-lee cow, yes; she can run also, I might have to forgive Mother Nature for the crappy weather simply for allowing me the opportunity to see him so beside himself with pride. Also, because his presence at the track meet created an opportunity for The Teenager’s boyfriend to introduce himself and there is nothing more entertaining than watching a grown man attempt to intimidate an adolescent boy who may-or may not be-kissing his only daughter

Hugh: Shoot, I forgot my handcuffs.

The Teenager: Oh, my gawwwwd!

Chelle: He’s kidding. Really, he is.

For the record, the boyfriend did fine and, according to The Teenager, now feels comfortable enough to officially request Hugh’s permission to escort The Teenager to the upcoming 8th Grade Continuation ceremony and dance.

To that end, on Sunday, The Teenager and I spent some time shopping for heels to go with her new dress. We found a pair she likes as well as a sweater shrug to wear over her dress in the likely event that it gets chilly because, despite my grudging appreciation for some of Mother Nature’s stunts, I wouldn’t put it past her to try to ruin the fun with a blizzard. Or, a monsoon, Bitch is fickle, as we all know.

On the other hand, she totally saved my ass from sleeping in a tent so, yeah. Way to go, Mother Nature!