Army of Mom

So this is how liberty dies ... with thunderous applause.


SPF: No idea what the theme is

Ok, Kristine is grasping for straws, I think. Oh wait, if I say that, she'll make something straw be one of the assignments. But, I'm not sure of the theme, but here it is:

1. Your Washer and Dryer.
2. Your Robe (if you don’t have one of these…wait, how can you live without a robe? NO ONE should ever have to live life without a robe! GO BUY ONE!)
3. A flower (it’s sposta be spring remember?)

My washer and dryer are in the garage and they were a great purchase. It is nice to have new ones for the first time in my adult life. I always bought used ones and made do. These rock.

Gotta love the Osama shooting target, the folding chairs, the coach appreciation gift given to my dad in 1974. Beneath the picture on the washer is an old broom handle used to shove stuff down in the washer. My mom used it when I was a kid. Our fall and Christmas wreaths. See the little pile of colorful stuff on the dryer? That is the pile of crap I've found in the dryer in the psat month. Oh, and a pair of baby sandals I was going to give away, but couldn't. Both Pickle and Hot Rod wore those. Stinkerbelle did briefly. Just can't part with them.

Ok, all of these things were found in the dryer, in the past month. I clean it off about every month. Ok, except for the card for my catheter from last summer. That has been sitting on the dryer for some reason.

Ok, next is my robe. I love this thing. It is a soft terrycloth, but heavy robe. It was a Christmas present from my husband about five years ago or so. It is starting to get worn out, but I still love it.

And flowers. These are from my yard. This first shot is our peach tree. It came from a peach pit my mom tossed into her yard. When it started growing, she put it in a pot and brought it to us. We had it in the pot for a couple of years before putting in the yard. I think it is about three years old in our yard.

The amarillis plants came from my mom's yard, too. An old wives' tale is that plants from a friend or relative's yard grows better because of love. I think it might be true. Almost everything transplanted from my folks has grown like crazy. Hey, there is the connection, crazy!

Go play at Random and Odd.

Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and hunky guys

This week, we have David Delucci in honor of my attendance of opening day for the Rangers on Monday. My honey scored me tickets and for that, I love him dearly.

So, here we go:

Lookes like a cute boy.

Nice arms.

Knuckle bumps, bud.

Hit me one Monday.


A mother's happiness

A friend of mine sent this to me the other day. I can identify. I thought I'd share it with others. I emailed the author of it, she lives about 35 miles from me, ironically enough. She said she wrote this about two or three years ago.

by Rachel Skei Donihoo

I often daydream about being approached by a documentary filmmaker interested in doing a day-in-the-life film about my family. It's not that I think my life would make great material, it's just that I'd give anything to see it from an audience's perspective.
I'd like to see my son's face from a different angle as I pull his juice-soaked T-shirt over his head and usher him into the bathroom for a clean-up. I'd like to watch myself argue with my daughter over which shoes she'll wear for her class picture, and I'd like to see her smile when I pick her up from school. I'd like to watch myself nuzzle my children's necks, wash their sippee cups, coax them into sharing their toys, and yell when they won't.
Motherhood is dizzying. Forced into the thankless fray, I find it impossible to see the experience for what it really is. The film would help me see my life and, if set to pretty music, I think it would remind me that happiness is mine for the taking.
A 35-year-old childless friend of mine flew in to visit for the weekend not long ago. Clearly overwhelmed by the Kidville that has become my home, she confided that she and her husband were seeing a therapist to help them decide whether or not they should have children. The psychologist, my friend said, was "helping them see the benefits of parenthood. You know, weigh the pros and cons." She was proud that she was doing her homework -- confident that she would one day enter, or refuse, the job of motherhood well-informed and well-prepared. She was serious. I wanted to laugh out loud.
We are a bitter bunch, we mothers. No matter how fiercely, how completely, we love our children, we are often rather unbecomingly pissed off. It's not that we don't feel lucky, or proud or even completely enraptured by their little lives, it's just that our devotion comes at such an unspeakable price.
The swirl of hours and weeks and years that come after the birth of a child is so powerful, so transforming that to believe you could ever be prepared for it is, well, grounds for therapy. The exhaustion, the tedium, the frustration, the tenderness. It covers you like a landslide of warm sand, which you spend the rest of your life alternately sinking in to and digging out of. It's a life that is both lush and arid, but it's never the same again.
Before my daughter was born, I used to imagine what I'd look like, act like, be like as a mother. I fantasized about myself in certain situations: birthday parties, parent-teacher meetings, Christmas pageants. I was organized, well-dressed, cheerful, accessorized. It wasn't that I pictured someone other than myself. It was me. It's just that it was the was me, the former me. Not the now me with the limp ponytail and here-wipe-your-nose-on-my sleeve clothes. That's not the kind of woman I pictured. I didn't know that woman. I still don't.
And so when my visiting friend is put out that I can't shuttle her to Starbucks until 11:00 a.m. for her daily Caramel Macchiato with skim milk, I'm sad. Sad because her life is all about her, and my life is no longer about me.
Before my children were born, I spent inordinate amounts of time worrying about my looks, my ex-boyfriends, and how I would spend the jackpot if I won the lottery. These days, I worry about religion and violence and bioterrorism and permanently running out of Band-Aids. I believe all this probably makes me a better person. It does not, however, make me a happier one.
Happiness, as central to my life as it once was and as many years as I spent chasing it now seems secondary to other things. Other things like the happiness of my children, for one; and survival, for another. These days, selfish desires are simply beside the point. To a toddler, what Mommy wants to do today is a don't-care case.
An afternoon at Chucky Cheese's (and I have spent many) does not make me happy. Neither does prying a $20 toy out of a hysterical toddler's hand in Wal-Mart (and I have done it, many times), or buying it just to keep the peace (which I've done many more). A lazy Sunday lying in bed reading, popping M&M's, and watching TV alone would make me happy (but it simply doesn't happen anymore).
That's not to say that I don't find soaring, profound joy in the love of my children. I do. And I also find great pleasure in watching them find happiness. I guess therein lies the problem -- I've become a bit of a voyeur, and less of a player.
There was a frantic time when my son was an infant that I obsessed about missed opportunities, real and imagined, and dreamed desperate dreams about running endless laps while the starting gun fired again and again. I felt trapped, off-kilter and terribly alone. When I shared my desolate emotions with my husband, a man who loves me and wants me to be happy, he responded with silence. He couldn't even pretend to understand. This startling sacrifice truly is woman's work.
I have much I'd like to tell my coffee-drinking friend, but I'll spare her. She couldn't possibly grasp the incomprehensible cost of motherhood. Nor could she fathom how exquisite its rewards.
If I close my eyes, I can envision the documentary. Slow motion children, hair blowing, chasing bubbles across the yard. Smiling daddy, lifting smiling children over his head. Tired mommy, kneeling down to kiss bloody knees. Happy family, too busy to notice the camera.

___Rachel Skei Donihoo is a part-time writer and full-time mother.

Man, the PMS is kicked in full gear now. I re-read the piece and fell apart crying. I feel so bitter sometimes and I feel so guilty for resenting my life. I love my life, I really do, there are just those moment when I want someone to take care of me. I want someone to wipe my tears when I hurt. I want someone to tuck me into bed and say prayers with me and tell me how much they love me. I want to just go play and do selfish things without jumping through 15 hoops to make sure everyone else is taken care of. I just want someone to take care of me. I am not sure that I ever had that. Yeah, when I had my cancer as a 6-year-old, people had to take care of me. But, as I grew up, I took care of everyone else around me. I still do. I just want to be taken care of.


That is my middle name. But, in this case I'm talking about Ice Age 2: The Meltdown *said in my best TV announcer voice* Coming to a theater near you March 31. I plan on taking the kids tomorrow. Should be fun.

Scrat is my prehistoric self, I think.

Shitty start to the day

Literally. My beautiful, bright daughter will still not poop on the potty. She stays dry all day and even overnight somtimes, but she refuses to do No. 2 on the toilet.


So, I'm helping her get dressed and get ready to take off the night-time pullup for daytime clothes and stick not one, not two, but yes, three fingers into a big old steaming pullup full of poo.

Lets toss in some cramps for fun, too. Oh yeah, and a passel (how do you spell passel?) of stories that I have to work on today and have done in the next week and we have a rip-roaring good start to the day.

*sighing again*

It will actually be fine. I have my stories mostly under control, so that is good. Off to run some errands for some retail therapy and then back to the grind. Yippee.

Tiny Dancer

I hope this isn't a trend. I really don't want to see my daughter dancing around a pole of any sorts.

Although, maybe dancing around the pole is a step up from licking it. The iron still hasn't killed that metal-licking urge yet. Eww.


Don't go breaking my heart

I love the Elton John and Kiki someone song from my childhood. I get to hear a Chicken Little version now. But, you can see the love in their eyes. Daddy may be in for a heartbreak when she meets the man of her dreams and it isn't her daddy.

The Sky is Falling!

My son does such a good job with his art work. Here is his ode to Chicken Little.

Sitting down in my thinking chair

Well, so much for me thinking I was getting a really cute top at a bargain price. *sigh*

I went to Academy today to pick up baseball belt and socks for Hot Rod, get some sandals for Stinkerbelle and maybe look at the bargain racks for some goodies for me. Since I have green eyes, I love to wear green shirts. I saw a cute V-neck green striped shirt for $4.88.

While trying it on in the dressing room, Stinkerbelle looks up at me and says:
Momma, you have a Blue's Clues shirt! Why are you wearing a Blue's Clues shirt?

I started laughing because she was right, it would look like a Steve shirt to a 3-year-old. My shirt:

Steve's shirt:

I shrug it off and figure that I'll be popular among the children. Sort of like the pied piper of the applesauce and milk crowd. But, alas, tis not to be the case. I'm showing my husband my purchases tonight and I pull out the shirt.
Army of Dad: Hey, you got a Steve shirt.

*shaking my head*

I think that one is going back to the store.

*Push, Push SHHHH*

I am not sure that I've heard of a more assinine thing in my life and trust me - I have three children. I have heard some dumbass things.

Apparently, Tom gave Katie some of his koolaid and she is doing the scientology crap even with the birth of her child.

It is sort of hard to type this with a straight face, but she is planning on a "silent birth" out on some boat.

According to this news story, in scientology childbirth:
Maintain silence in the presence of birth to save both the sanity of the mother and child and safeguard the home to which they will go. The maintaining of silence does not mean a volley of 'Sh's', for those make stammerers.

Uh, ok.

I'm guessing there will be lots of drugs involved for her to be silent during childbirth. I've had three babies and never had to push one out of me (always had c-sections) but laboring during two of those births made me wish I was dead. I moaned, groaned, cried and cursed. I also did a lot of loud breathing, panting crap that didn't work. I believe it is simply designed to distract you from the pain by trying to make you concentrate on breathing correctly in the completely useless motivation of ridding your poor body of the agonizing pain of labor. But, I digress.

This little tidbit makes the religion even sadder for the poor kids born into it:
Scientologists are encouraged not to comfort or nurture young children because Hubbard believed a child is simply a small adult who can look forward to look after themselves from a young age.

This kid has no chance between psycho furniture-hopping dad, the stupid waif mom who doesn't seen anything wrong with these beliefs and now this. *shaking my head*

PMS Blues

Make sure your volume is turned on for this one. I'm not positive, but pretty sure this is Dolly Parton.

I have the PMS Blues today.



AoM: the next Rodney King

You know, the LAPD gets a bad rap in the media.

And you want to know what? I think they deserve it.

I had a brush with a LAPD media relations (oxymoron or maybe just plain moron) officer Thursday afternoon. I was treated worse by this officer than I have EVER been treated in my 15 years as a reporter. She was yelling at me and blowing me off. I've interviewed killers sent to prison, talked to grieving parents of slain children, quizzed school officials when a child was kidnapped from a school campus and later found dead. Not one of these people treated me as disrespectfully as this cop did.

I'm working on a magazine story focusing on the increasing incidents of hidden cameras recording people unknowingly for someone's sexual gratification. I called the media relations line to seek some assistance from an investigator or detective on this kind of crime, how common it is, what women/children can do to try to protect themselves from this kind of crime, etc.

The woman who answered the phone was arguing with me about EVERY question I had. She deferred me with every scenario I gave her telling me to contact the schools, contact mall administration, contact the city attorney's office. She even went so far as to tell me that he LAPD investigates "big" crimes and this was not that big of a deal and that as long as she's been there, she hasn't heard about very many of these cases, if at all. She was incredibly rude and argumentative and not what I'd want to represent my organization with a member of the media. People sometimes wonder why they get a bad rap with the media and this is one reason why. I even told her I had no specific incident that I wanted to discuss, I just wanted someone who could address the topic, in general. She tried to say that this wasn't really that much of a crime and the police couldn't do anything about it in most circumstances until I finally gave her a scenario of walking down a public street and some guy with a hidden camera on his shoe shoots video up my dress, she finally acknowledged that, yes, it is probably a crime. I asked point blank if she couldn't find me someone to talk about it and she said to email the department.

I did not catch this woman's name because she was so busy trying to push me off on some other agency and arguing with me, that I couldn't catch it. It just completely caught me off guard. I have NEVER been treated so rudely by a media relations person in my 15 years of reporting and I used to cover the cops beat for years. Hell, I've never been treated so rudely by anyone I've tried to talk to for a story. I've been chewed out by a judge once, but he was a rude crotchedy old grump anyway who was losing an election and was just mad. He gets extra asshole points for chewing me out at a United Way luncheon, with my mom present and while I was 8 months pregnant. But, even Judge Buttnugget wasn't as rude as this cop.

I love on the LAPD website, it says this:
The Media Relations Section of the Los Angeles Police Department fosters cooperation and mutual respect between the Department and the news media. The members of MRS are dedicated and highly trained individuals who understand the importance of using the media as a valuable resource to keep the public informed as to the Department’s activities. In this regard, they realize that their role is to assist members of the media in completing the task of gathering information and reporting on news events impacting residents and visitors to the City of Los Angeles. The public’s perception and image of the Department is largely dependent on the hard work of MRS.

I think my favorite part is "The Media Relations Section of the Los Angeles Police Department fosters cooperation and mutual respect between the Department and the news media."

Ha. I fart in your general direction.

Then, Army of Dad sent me this story about the shortage of cops nationwide and how standards for being a cop have been lowered. Here is another great snippet:
There are concerns, said Elaine Deck, a researcher at the International Association of Chiefs of Police, that staffing changes and shortages could affect public safety and the well-being of law enforcement officers. The LAPD, for example, is too short-staffed to investigate complaints against its officers, so that many complaints from 2005 may not result in punishment until this year.

Yeah, I sent an email to the director of communications for the LAPD complaining on Thursday. I still haven't gotten a response. That's lovely.

This picture made me laugh, too. The LAPD cop falling off his bike reminds me a bit of Jerry Lewis or Jim Carrey.

UPDATE: I received an email from the PIO on Tuesday. Yesterday I got a call from a lieutenant who apologized and said he was trying to figure out who it was because his staff is trained not to act like that. A few hours later, I got a call from the cop who was hateful to me. She apologized and said she knows she was rude and shouldn't have acted that way and that she was overwhelmed and it was no excuse to yell at me. I was shocked that she admitted it, but felt better to get the phone call. I'm guessing she lost a pants size from the ass chewing she got prior to the phone call being made.

Happy 8th Anniversary

Just about 4:45 p.m. on Friday, March 27, 1998, I became the bride of the most incredible man. We were wed by the Justice of the Peace in the Tabasco tie in Killeen, Texas. It was wonderful. I look at these pictures and realize I'm a horrible cradle-robber. I prefer to call it marrying well. Not every woman can snag a stud-boy 21-year-old soldier to make her an honest woman. Ok, that is pushing it, but I did convince him to put a gold band on my finger, buy me a diamond and promise to keep me in Nikes, Levis and Tommy Hilfiger.

Gees, we look so young. He WAS young! Heck, he still is. What happened to me?

and, a way you can still find us often, much to our children's chagrin.

So, why do I love this man? Let me count the ways:
1. He is even more of a pefectionist than I am.
2. He loves our children, including my son that came as part of the package deal.
3. He works a job he hates so we can live the way we're accustomed.
4. He works on his days off reffing soccer games for extra money.
5. He lets me plan our date nights and pick the restaurant.
6. He puts the toilet seat down.
7. He always makes sure I "go." *wink*
8. He's smart.
9. He can think well on his feet.
10. He can do the splits when he plays first base.

Ok, that is just small sampling of the many reasons. I left out his cooking, his willingness to trudge into the stormy cold rain to dig out our drains ... I could go on and on.

So, how do I demonstrate my love for him:
1. I stand in line for 30 minutes at the grocery store with two hungry children to save $20.
2. I pack his lunch every night.
3. I make sure he has batteries for his flashlight. It might take me a while, but I'll get it done eventually.
4. I wash his clothes.
5. I watch Ultimate Fighting whatever with him and only roll my eyes occasionally.
6. I point out pretty girls for him to ogle.
7. I send him to El Paso with his friends for SuperBowl weekend.
8. I send him to Hooters on Sundays during football season to watch the Vikings while I stay home with the baby.
9. I wear stocking and high heels.
10. I try to take good care of his children.

Honey, I love you. I think I'm the luckiest woman on the planet. Ok, maybe the second, that lady who had a Bingo machine fall on her and gives her spontaneous orgasms might be a little luckier. But, I digress. Thank you for making me your wife.

We're celebrating by having t-ball practice. We're romantics at heart. ;)


The Dessert Test

A friend emailed this to me. She was a Brownie. Which one to do you think I am?

No cheating. If all of the desserts listed below were sitting in front of you, which would you choose? Pick your dessert, and then look to see what psychiatrists think about you! Sorry you can only pick one.

Angel Food Cake
Lemon Meringue Pie
Vanilla Cake with Chocolate Icing
Strawberry Short Cake
Chocolate Icing on Chocolate Cake
Ice Cream
Carrot Cake

NO. You can't change your mind once you scroll down, so think carefully what your choice will be!

OK - Now that you've made your choice, this is what psychiatric research says about you:

ANGEL FOOD CAKE... Sweet, loving, cuddly. You love all warm and fuzzy items. A little nutty at times. Sometimes you need an ice cream cone at the end of the day. Others perceive you as being childlike and immature at times.

BROWNIES... You are adventurous, love new ideas, and are a champion of underdogs and a slayer of dragons. When tempers flare up, you whip out your saber. You are always the oddball with a unique sense of humor and direction. You tend to be very loyal.

LEMON MERINGUE... Smooth, sexy, and articulate with your hands, you are an excellent after-dinner speaker and a good teacher. But don't try to walk and chew gum at the same time. A bit of a diva at times, but you have many good friends.

VANILLA CAKE WITH CHOCOLATE ICING... Fun loving, sassy, humorous. Not very grounded in life; very indecisive. Spontaneous. Everyone enjoys being around you. Others should be cautious in making you mad. However, you are a friend for life.

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE... Romantic, warm, loving. You care about other people and can be counted on in a pinch ! You also tend to melt. You can be overly emotional at times. And sometimes can be annoying.

CHOCOLATE ON CHOCOLATE... Sexy; always ready to give and receive. Very adventurous, ambitious, and passionate. You can appear to have a cold exterior but are warm on the inside. Not afraid to take chances. Will not settle for anything average in life. Love to laugh.

ICE CREAM... You like sports, whether it is baseball, football, basketball, or soccer. If you could, you would like to participate, but you enjoy watching sports. You don't like to give up the remote control. You tend to be self-centered and high maintenance.

CARROT CAKE... You are a very fun loving person, who likes to laugh. You are fun to be with. People like to hang out with you. You are a very warm hearted person and a little quirky at times. You have many loyal

So, what do you think I am? I'm a brownie with ice cream. :)

That awkward age

You know the one I'm talking about. The one when you're 37.

You know? The one where you have wrinkles, crow's feet and an occasional grey hair popping amidst the blonde highlights.

And, you still get zits.

A great big one on my chin.


Robin's pool party

Go look. Water. Splashing. A whole group enjoying Robin's pool party.

Beware, the smile factor is astronomical.

Happy SPF Birthday Kristine!

It's Kristine's birthday today. Go wish her a happy one!

Her assignment:
1. Take a picture of something you own that you’re ‘gifting’ me with.(you don’t really have to give it to me, it’s a ‘CYBER’ gift - so go hog wild!)
2. Write 3 words that describe me on paper and take a picture of it.
3. A self portrait of you doing a dorky face in the mirror.
I'm altering it a bit since I'm late and on deadline for work. So, here we go.

A gift of a steak dinner:

Kristine's description words:

Me making a silly face. I make those all the time. Let's pick one:

So, did you play? Probably better than mine. *sigh* Damn work getting in the way of my SPFing.

Ole! Look at the size of that guy's pepper!

South of the border hotties this week. Last month, Army of Dad went to El Paso and then to Juarez, Mexico, with two old Army buddies for a weekend of debauchery. Not sure how that went (not sure I WANT to know), but I do know that large amounts of beer were consumed and lots of cribbage was played.

Why El Paso, you ask? Why that lovely border town? Well, one guy is National Guard turned active duty and he's stationed there. The other guy is now in the civilian world, but works as a consultant for the military in some capacity and was working at White Sands, N.M., on an assignment for two weeks. So, we figured, why the hell not send him down there. He hasn't seen the civi for about four years now as he lives in Maryland. The nasty guard guy lives in another Dallas surburb when he isn't shipped off, so we see him a couple of times a year or so.

But, I digress. You all know I think my guy is the hottie of the century, so why not make him hottie of the week again (along with his friends) since our anniversary is Monday. Eight years. Seems a lot longer. ;)

Here they are at some cafe. Seated by AoD is his civi buddy and standing is the Natl Guard guy.

Yeah, he is probably chewing some food, but he is still cool. Notice the Latinas sitting nearby. I'm SURE that was an accident. Yeah, a coincidence. They guys just wanted to be by the performers. That's it.

Making a run for the border.

And hitting the club scene with a couple of locals that the Natl Guard guy knows. And, their view from the hotel. Wow, that is cloes to the airport!

Suddenly, I have a taste for tamales, salsa and AoD with cerveza on his breath!


Open house

Almost a month later and I'm finally posting about Open House WAY back on March 2. Below is Pickle with his teacher. We are so going to miss her next year.

Her is Pickle with his ball "about me."

And, here he is "wearing" his Cat in the Hat hat, he created.

With his dad, Uzz.

Herer Hot Rod reads to his sister about butteflies.

With his teacher.

Getting the boot.

And my native Texan.

Little Bit remembers the Alamo.

Civil War Museum

My mom and I went to the Texas Civil War museum in Fort Worth. There were many many artifacts and we could have spent hours there, but mom can't go like she used to before her stroke. So, we cut the visit short. But, here are some. The artifacts are sorted by the North and the South. One of the most incredible facets of the museum is that almost every artificat has a name associated with it. I thought that was incredible.

The bloodstained Bible before was carried by a Confederate soldier on the battlefied.

A bullet riddled uniform.

Firearms. They were beautiful.

A "Texian" Flag. They had a great selection of flags that were carried into battle or flown at home.

Locks of hair from Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee. How bizarre is that?

Then, there was a whole wing dedicated to dresses and women's clothes. It was so cool. There were underclothes that made me glad to live in the 21st Century. These look uncomfortable.

And some more.

Even the poor babies had corsets.

The dresses are beautiful, though.

If you like history or dresses, you'd love this place. Reasonably priced, too, and very educational.

NEW: Added for MrsDOF is my lowdown on the dreaded hair wreath. Often these were made out of relative's hair or even hair of DEAD relatives. I hate these things. My mom had one over my bed after I left for college, so every time I came home I had to fall asleep with it over my head. *shruddering* I took a picture of one at the museum. I'll have to find it and load it up for others to see. They're creepy.

Lead poisoning death

Even though Little Bit doesn't have lead poisoning, I'm struck by how many cases still occur with this deadly, yet preventable infliction.

Reebok is recalling 300,000 children’s charm bracelets because a 4-year-old died from lead poisoning after swallowing a piece of the jewelry, the government said Thursday. The silver-colored bracelets, bearing heart-shaped charms engraved with the “Reebok” name, were given away from May 2004 through this month with the purchase of children’s shoes in major shoe stores across the country. The bracelets contain high levels of lead, the Consumer Product Safety Commission said. CPSC officials said a child from Minneapolis died after reportedly swallowing part of one of the bracelets.

That is scary. Since she puts everything in her mouth, there is always the choking hazard and the concern of swallowing something harmful. This story is much like the one my pediatrician told me last week about the child who swallowed the antique curtain weight and got lead poisoning from it.

So sad.

Another dumb government move

To me, this is another blatant example of government officials overstepping their authority and being illogical.

The idea is that the TABC was trying to be proactive in arresting drunk people in bars before they could drive drunk. They conducted stings in Irving (just outside of Dallas) and arrested 30 people in 36 bars.

The dumbest part of this to me? Some of the people they arrested were in a hotel bar and they didn't have cars in which to drive drunk. So, if they aren't a threat to themslves or anyone else, what harm are they doing? Yeah, they may have a wicked headache the next morning, but that isn't a crime. I just think this is stupid. I went to a party Saturday night and many of my girlfriends got pretty bent, but their guys were sober to drive them home or they went to their rooms in the hotel where the party was. so, what is the big deal?

I really think this is stupid.

Smile for the camera

Yet another reason why you shouldn't let a boyfriend take compromising pictures of you. Your naked body could wind up in an ebay auction. Apparently, he has many stupid girls who allowed him to photograph them. Are women just stupid or what? I suppose it could be a gimmick, but man ...

Oh sexy American girlfriend!!!! - Long Duck Dong from "Sixteen Candles"

AoM aka Muscle

I feel like some really bad movie loan shark collector-dude. Teeball season entails putting 4-, 5- and 6-year-olds in sliding pants, cleats and batting helmets that are too big on a field and watching the comedy of errors begin.

I laughed hysterically at Coach Dad Gone Mad and figure I'll have some very similar pictures for you folks in a few weeks. You can share my pain.

I played competitive fast-pitch softball and schooled most of my guy friends in baseball growing up. I was picked first when the boys split up to form teams at recess on the playground. This always confounded the boys who just moved to our school. That is, until they saw me hit, throw and catch. My tournament team was fourth in state one year and finished at the top of our region consistently.

I tell you that, not to brag, but so you understand why it makes my brain hurt to watch teeball practice. Swear to God. My brain literally hurts. There is one kid digging in the dirt, another checking out the bird outside of the left field fence, the kids who don't run to first when they hit the ball, etc. etc. Plus, Coach Army of Dad comes home grumpy from practice. At least our kid is decent. Thank God.

But, back to the muscle. We are selling, ok, we're done selling, raffle tickets for a fundraiser. Now, my job is to collect the money, ticket stubs or unsold tickets. So, I call every parent and remind them Monday to bring the crap on Tuesday. Do you think everyone did? No? You'd be right. So, in addition to being the baseball association's leg-breaker, now I have to play telemarketer-collection asshole, too, calling everyone and telling them I will be coming by their house to pick the crap up. How did I get roped into THIS job? Because we all know I have nothing else to do.

I may not have to worry about my gray hairs because I may pull them all - brunette, highlights AND gray - out soon.

With 24 days to spare

I did it. It only took about four to five hours, but I sat down with my TurboTax online and about $40-someodd later, I ave e-filed my taxes and given the IRS a nanny-nanny-boo-boo big old middle finger.

I also believe I shall be the recipient of a fairly sizable tax refund due in large part to running two home-based businesses as well as a plethora of medical and dental expenses. Who says it doesn't pay to be sick? ;)

So, now I'm exhausted. But, that is one less monkey on my back. I'm feeding that butt-nugget a banana and putting him back in the trunk of my car for another year.

*insert deep sigh and look of tired satisfaction*

Now, we have to decide if we want to pay off some bills, put some up for our summer vacation, buy a new gun or two, get new floors, sod for the yard or a new fence. I don't think it will stretch THAT far to do it all. But, we'll try. Six Flags season passes may be in order, too. Hmm. Gotta think about it.


My message to drivers


Don't try to smoke AND talk on the phone while driving either. I saw some stupid broad doing this (no hands-free headset either).

Some people should have to get out of the gene pool for our future's sake.

Speaking of pervs

While we're on the subject of people who are pervs, maybe we should find out if there is a 12-step group for folks who have sexual fantasies about hobbits.

Hot blonde pervert

What the hell is wrong with this woman? A 23-year-old teacher having sex with a 14-year-old boy. Why in the world would a grown woman want a boy for, to begin with? Then, why would someone as hot as this chick want a boy? She could get any guy she wanted. I have a husband who has volunteered to meet her needs if she is lacking.

She apparently did some modeling, too.

You can see some other shots, too.

Now, I don't care what anyone says about this just makes the 14-year-old a studboy. I still say that a grown woman can manipulate a 14-year-old boy emotionally as well as sexually. I think this kid is going to have issues. What they might be, I couldn't tell you. But, I honestly think this is JUST as bad as if the genders were reversed. If the teacher was a 23-year-old man and the girl was 14, it would be just as bad. My husband and I disagreed over this hypothetical scenario, but I think it is just as bad.

Worst part to me, other than the mental anguish the boy will endure, is that her husband is hot. Poor dude is going to be emasculated by this and it definitely makes me wonder what was going on in their sex life that she would do this.

Hump Day Hodge Podge

Well, it is hump day and I'm finally going to post my first entry this week. Sorry to be so bad about not posting for the past few weeks. It isn't like I don't have anything to say because I do. Just been so busy or not motivated and then when I would get motivated, blogger would be down. So, I just gave up.

Been watching the news with great interest about a Plano soccer coach accused of molesting some girls on his soccer teams. Our local soccer association won't allow people to coach unless they have a child on the team. I think that is important, not that it keeps all perverts out, but it is a good start. We don't leave our kids alone with coaches from camp, etc. Just in case. Just isn't a good idea. I feel really sorry for these kids and their families. I also wouldn't want to have these talks with my kids asking about what might have happened.

Been working on improving my diet for about three weeks now and only seeing a marginal half a pound difference. This is even with giving up sodas for Lent. I'm a little disappointed, but not throwing in the towel yet.

Apparently, old folks who watch Oprah and soap operas scored poorly on memory and cognitive tests. But, I tell you waht, if they can give you the genealogy of all the soap opera characters, their memory is pretty good. Plus, I turned on All My Children for shits and grins yesterday and felt my brain turn to mush.

Gees, it is already Wednesday. I have too much to do this week. *sigh*


Rock-lickers unite

Well, it appears my little rock-licker doesn't have lead poisoning. *whew*

What she does have is an iron deficiency that is making her anemic. So, we will give her iron and go back in a month to test her hemoglobin again. The doctor assures me that we will have her good as new and NOT licking rocks within three months.

So, like so many things in my life, we had the scare and drama for a few days and it turns out to be something utterly controllable.

Woo hoo!


Who'll stop the rain?

The CCR song keeps running through my mind.

We are under flash flood warnings in North Texas and it is good for our lakes and water supplies, not so good for our roads and my back yard. I took some pics that I'll try to post tomorrow. Very scary stuff. Dear Husband was out in the yard in a rain slicker, his swimsuit and flip flops digging out our drains. They're getting clogged with dirt running off from the yard and making the water rise.

I was a bit worried for a while when the storms were heavier earlier. They let up, but now more are on the way.

Ugh. Be careful what you hope for. Our rain prayers were answered, now we need to turn off the tap.

Total BS

We're watching the Discovery Channel's Super Tornado show and it is total complete crap.

They're focusing on Dallas and they are so full of crap. They show the Ballpark at Arlington and call it Dallas Stadium. Come on folks, just focus on Arlington and call it the Ballpark or feature the American Airlines Center. Then, they have this little anecdotal situation of a stupid blonde bitch and her kid running out of gas under Central Expressway near Deep Ellum. Instead of getting out of her car and heading for a building, she calls her husband. STUPID BITCH!!!! You're in charge of a child. Get his ass out of the weather and take shelter. Under an overpass is the MOST dangerous place you can be in a tornado.

Good God.

My favorite part is that almost every downtown Dallas skyscraper has an underground parking garage. Hello? McFly? Anyone home? Get inside and take shelter. Geesus.

Gets better. The stupid bitch in the show is married to an emergency management official. Dumbass gets in his SUV and drives to pick up his stupid bitch and her offspring (who will likely grow up to be stupid to, if he is lucky enough to survive). No safety guy would get in a vehicle with a tornado coming. He would tell his stupid bitch wife to go take shelter in a nearby building. I mean, please. Everything you aren't supposed to do is what they did in this show. My head is about to explode.

Maybe I know more than the average person from my reporter days and stormchasing, but come on. If you live in Tornado Alley, as I do, you should know these things.

Ok, if you're new to Texas, let me give you a few tornado safety tips of what to do during a tornado:

If outdoors:
If possible, get inside a building.
If shelter is not available or there is no time to get indoors, lie in a ditch or low-lying area or crouch near a strong building.
Be aware of the potential for flooding.
Use arms to protect head and neck.

If in a car:
Never try to out-drive a tornado in a car or truck.
Get out of the car immediately and take shelter in a nearby building.
If there is no time to get indoors, get out of the car and lie in a ditch or low-lying area away from the vehicle. Be aware of the potential for flooding.

If at home:
If you have a tornado safe room or engineered shelter go there immediately.
Go at once to a windowless, interior room; storm cellar; basement; or lowest level of the building.
If there is no basement, go to an inner hallway or a smaller inner room without windows, such as a bathroom or closet.
Get away from the windows.
Get under a piece of sturdy furniture such as a workbench or heavy table or desk and hold on to it.
Use arms to protect head and neck.
If in a mobile home, get out and find shelter elsewhere.

If at work or school:
Go to the area designated in your tornado plan.
Avoid places with wide-span roofs such as auditoriums, cafeterias, large hallways, or shopping malls.
Get under a piece of sturdy furniture such as a workbench or heavy table or desk and hold on to it.
Use arms to protect head and neck.

Ok, folks, be safe.

Keep your eye on the ball

Villanova made it to the Sweet 16 and the player who had his eye gouged out played in the last game.

Wanna see the gorey video? You asked for it.


Stuff Portrait Friday: Letter C

I can't believe we don't have a green or St. Patrick's Day theme today. *sigh* Ok, I'll follow the rules and look at the assignment, which is:

SPF is brought to you this week by the letter C:
Your Couch
Your Coat
Your Candles

First off, we have two couches. One, I bought about the time Pickle was born in 1994. That couch has been through hell and has a slip cover on it to cover all the years of wear and tear. It is now in my office/family room and is the depository for laundry (which is never ending in this house). I had moved it in here to cuddle with my honey, but there is never room because of the laundry that rotates in and out just about every day. Here was the couch yesterday:

My front room couch was given to me by my neighbor. She had gotten it years ago from her now ex-inlaws and she could stand it no longer. Great for us, though. It even folds out into a bed.

My coat. That is a hard one for me. I have three different coats. Foley's had a big sale on London Fog coats one year and my mom bought me a lightweight short jacket, a medium length jacket and a warmer coat with lining that can be removed. Then, I have lots to other things in between. I think being a baby of a depression-era baby has made me a packrat, because I like to have multiples of things because you never know when you'll need it. Each of my kids about an average of five jackets and coats. This is our coat closet.

My favorite jacket is a hand-me-down from a friend and I keep this fleece goody in the car to wear at the soccer fields.

And Candles. We have TONS of candles in this house. My dad makes them and gives me more than I can ever use. So, I burn lots of candles. It makes for romantic atmosphere, too. Here is my stash of candles.

We have candles on the fireplace mantle (although one looks like it needs a new one in the votive.)

Here are a few of the many in the bedroom. The colorful pic is Army of Dad as a preschooler with a fish he caught. Cute, huh? My CDs, too.

And, another set of candles in the bedroom. Gotta love my Ringo and AoD's Manatees' ball.

And, one in our front room.

Go check out who all played at Random and Odd. Following the C theme, my life and SPFs are usually about chaos. Did you play?