Thursday, August 30

Just Say It.

The best laid plans can always go awry, so it's always a relief when my body announces we have officially dodged the baby bullet for another month.  Once the initial dirt-poor, broke-like-the-great-depression sense of relief is over, I'm just pissed.  This sucks.  I wish I was one of those people raised to call parts and functions what they are, but I fall into the Euphemism trap. 
At least I have not used these old standards:
*Visit from my Aunt Flo
*My monthly visitor
No, in my head I take on some weird Boris and Natasha Slavic accent and say "I bleed like stuck pig"
Why am I sharing this with the four people who read me that I've never met?  I don't know.
The kids get reminded to wash Pits and Privates.    I envision trying to introduce proper names at this point in the game and admit to a chortle over the look on Big O's face if I reminded him to make sure his scrotum gets proper soapy attention.
Nope, I'm a punch line kinda girl.  I'll just break out another inappropriate Saturday Night Live, and we'll watch the Alec Baldwin "Schweddy Weiner" routine.  
Poor Big O.  Crystal over at Boobs, Injuries, and Dr. Pepper is my guide for raising boys.  He's in for it.... 

Wednesday, August 29

Wednesday Hero

This Weeks Post Was Suggested By Randy Thorsvig

Ken Leonard
Ken Leonard (On The Right)
From High Point, North Carolina

Every once in a while you run across one of those "feel good stories". Those stories that show us just what a person can do when they really want it bad enough. And Ken Leonard has one of those stories.

In 2005, Ken Leonard left his job as a police officer in High Point, North Carolina to go to Iraq to work with a private security firm. In December of that year, Ken, along with five other men in his vehicle and six others in the vehicle behind him, was hit by a roadside bomb outside of Baghdad. "After the bomb went off, I knew exactly what had happened," Leonard recalled. "My feet got jarred, so I knew they were hit." While others in his vehicle were injured, he had received the worst of it. He had lost both his feet.

The vehicle behind them pushed Leonard's to a safer area. But flames were coming out of the air conditioning vents and they had to get out. Leonard crawled from the car and fell to the pavement. "That’s when I saw my feet," he said. "I could tell they were gone. They were still attached, but they were shredded."

On July 19, 2007, Ken Leonard went back to North Carolina to get his job back with the police force. To do that he needed to pass the Police Officers Physical Abilities Test, which, among other things, consisted of a 200-yard run to be finished in under 7 minutes, 20 seconds. And he did just that with 24 seconds to spare.

"Somebody told me one time they said, 'You know, what you've lost is just bone and muscle. You've still got heart, and you've still got, you know, what's up here,'" Leonard said, pointing to his head.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. To find out more about Wednesday Hero, you can go here.

It's another happy one!

Tuesday, August 28

...And we're back.

I read the blogs of the parents whose children strive for A's. Who cry when the dreaded B appears. Then there is my eldest, who sadly takes after his mother and finds ANYTHING else to do when homework is due. It hasn't been a WEEK, people. Huge blue stamp in the handy planner required by school....ASSIGNMENT NOT TURNED IN.

It hasn't been a WEEK. Foolish me for not checking this thing Friday night when I got him back from his lame-O/touchy feely/let's do affirmations father. Um, how about doing affirmations while you CHECK HIS WORK?

I am going to be on my poor kid like white on rice. We WILL develop some kind of discipline before high school. He HAS to go to college. Or become a plumber. Who will buy me pudding when I'm old?



While you are contemplating my life under the bridge at seventy, go peek at this site to see why I am going to Hell. It makes me laugh. Maybe I should write a letter.

Monday, August 27

Hoagies and Grinders, Hoagies and Grinders...

My dumpr
Originally uploaded by supa_jen_10.

Big O loves his new junior high, and I know it's only been a few days, but it's such a refreshing change from last year.

As a seventh grader, he is taking Engineering and Criminal Law/Ethics as his two electives. I hope the euphoria doesn't fade away altogether.

He called me on his second day (It was his Dad's week) to tell me that he got his PE locker, and he hated it.
My heart just sank--I thought he hated changing in front of everyone (hmmm, project much?). Then he went on to say that everyone hated it, because only like three kids could open their lockers. He hated the LOCKER, not PE. Oh, just wait, son....

The picture is apropos of nothing, I just made it from a toy I found at Michelle's

Bre lent me the best of Adam Sandler, and I thought Big O would love it--ack. There was a whoooole lot more innapropriate stuff than I remembered. Bre sent it to my house because I could remember the lunch lady song easily, but I had no recollection of Chris Farley AS the lunch lady. Those were some HIGH kicks!

Saturday, August 25

There was a book post vanished?

Just a quick update on the housing front--a little old lady called in about a past due bill for a tenant, she is in the proces of throwing them out (for not paying their rent for the last three months) and did we know of anyone looking for a three bedroom place?
She's an older Polish lady, and looking at the notes on the account, seems like quite a character. She doesn't belive credit checks or rent hikes are important, she just wants steady tenants. I think this used to be her house, but she lives in the mother-in-law quarters now.

Send me lots of good vibes, I am going to meet her today....

Thursday, August 23

Did you ever read...

I was describing a book, a futuristic (Hard?) sci-fi novel that I read many moons ago, where pretty much all computer functions, worldwide, were performed by the giant corporation Win-Disney, or microsoft-disney or something like that.


Bill and Walt had taken over the world, and I don't remember being especially fond of the book, but what was it? Who wrote it?

I will spend days trying to figure this out...

Wednesday, August 22

The Legend of Baby Hush

Derek worked with me at B&N, he was a receiver in the back. He was short and just pure muscle, and covered with tattoos. It took people forever to realize that he was hilarious, because he was pretty intimidating and scowly. He hung out with a hipster crowd who did the whole retro fifties rockabilly thing, and I loved watching the pompadours and Betty Grable dames come to visit him.

I was the kid’s supervisor, so I spent a lot of time in the back room, and Derek was such a doll. After years of avowed bachelorhood and no limitations on himself, he had found a girl going to college down south that amazed him, and who he was willing to see exclusively. We were talking about how amazing this was for him just before he left to go see her for a long weekend.

You make no money selling books, in the front room or the back, which is why Derek was driving on bald tires in a rainstorm, and on his way home he hydroplaned through a red light. He lingered in a coma for like a month and a half.

Derek's Funeral was huge, and afterwards we (the B&N contingent) went out for a salutary drink in his memory. We ended up calling in drunk, way too hammered to go back to work. I guess it was a good thing the store manager was hammered with us, hmm?

Another of that hipster set, Galen, was the one who had convinced Derek to come to work at B&N, and was really close to him. Galen dated the snootiest, prissiest, most obnoxiously Martha Stewart at her worst, WASPY twat ever, and she had the balls to question my presence at the funeral, because she had never seen me at any of their parties. I still loathe her five and six years down the line.

Mexican Wrestling is coming to town and Derek would receive in his wrestling mask some days, scaring the hell out of the UPS guy when he opened the door. He also one day was bitching at Galen, and wrote BABY HUSH across his fingers, prison style. When Galen came to the back next, Derek asked him if he wanted some Baby Hush, and a legend was born.

He was smart and funny, totally crass and obnoxious, crazy and on the verge of big things. Useless Twat Steph was right; I was never in his inner circle. But I think the world could still use a little Baby Hush.

WTF Wedsnesday is Back with a Vengance

My landlord rented my tiny two bedroom house out from under me, while I was scraping together the deposit.
I am back to square one.
How did I find out?  The landlord called to see if I could get out two days early.
I said no problem, since I was renting another house from them, just waiting to get the deposit together. 
Really?  Which house? 
Blah de blah blah way... No, that's already been rented. 
Yeah, to ME. 
No, someone is moving in as we speak.
My moving problems were solved, mentally I was already planning Little O's birthday celebration in October.

Tuesday, August 21


Captain Underpants Balloon
Originally uploaded by BNSF Celyn.

The Honey came home from work the other day, went straight to the bedroom, and (slightly wild-eyed) said,

"I don't think I have any feeling in my left testicle."

Whereupon he dropped trou and told me there was something wrong with his underwear.

I held up long enough to tell him that HIS underwear were fine, but Big O's were never going to be the same.

And so we enter the land of boxer briefs in two sizes, one a men's extra large, and one a boy's extra large.

I laughed so hard I cried, but the Honey seemed unamused.

Monday, August 20

Raise a Glass...

Dear Derek-
You died a stupid pointless death way too long ago.  You should be raising adorable tiny brown eyed hellions with stick on tattoos so they could be like daddy.  I thought of you today because Lucha Libre Wrestling has finally made it to town, and I wish you were going. 
We'd all like a little "baby hush" right about now.

Saturday, August 18

La Virgin de guadalupe quiere mi nina.

Maria wrote a lovely post about her saint candles. I am not Catholic. Not really religious. I was raised Seventh Day Adventist, back when they stuck to their guns and didn't allow vanities like make-up or competitive sports. I am amused to hear from my mom the kinds of things allowed at SDA these days. My parents drifted away when church became more of a social event than a spiritual one. Every once in a while my mom will startle me with a SDA belief or attitude.

My poor MIL is about to have kittens because Little O is still not baptized. My problem is that I am not raising her as a Catholic. The Honey pooh-poohs this as a minor detail, but it's HUGE to me. I may not go to church, but I'm not going to go into the Big Guy's house and LIE. My former SIL is a devout Catholic. We went to church with her on high holy days whether we liked it or not, because she was, for a ll intents and purposes, the Matriarch of the family. I listened to the Catholic Baptism carefully, as Big O was supposed to be baptized, too. You are vowing, BEFORE GOD, that you will raise your child in the Catholic faith. The god parents aren't there as part of your long term planning to care for your child, they are there to impart the Catholic line if you fail in that duty.

Okay, number one, the Catholicism practiced by MIL is markedly different from that of my former sister-in-law. Most of the family doesn't really tow the line in terms of attendance, even, so who would we choose as Godparents? Because proposing the elder sister of my Ex kinda went over like a lead balloon. The Ex thought I could just stand up there with a wink and a nudge to the Big Guy, and I think the Honey is much the same, but I am just not far enough removed from my upbringing to go THERE. If I vow to raise my kid as a Catholic, she will GO to church, and since I am not Catholic, who'd take her?

(cricket chirping)


Having said that, I envy people who have the comfort of religion, because I haven't found anything that really fits. Someday I will explore my bizarre reaction to Judaism, but I'm definitely not a Catholic. It doesn't help that I think Pope Benedict looks evil and creepy. I am sorry that MIL is so unhappy about it.

Friday, August 17

I've got nothing...

Originally uploaded by supa_jen_10.

Except to say thank dog it's Friday. I am soooo ready.

Oh, and what are you going to be for Halloween? Okay, I admit I'm a little early, but I don't want another fiasco like Little O's wings, which she hated and refused to wear for more than ten minutes. She wears them now, much to my eternal gratitude/irritation. But the night I was frantically sewing until just before showtime?

Hated them.

AND I need to top last year when I went as my uber boss.

Wednesday, August 15


This Week's Soldier Was Suggested By Kat

Sgt. Michael J. Stokely
Sgt. Michael J. Stokely
23 years old from Sharpsburg, Georgia
1st Battalion, 108th Armor Regiment, 48th Brigade Combat Team
August 16, 2005

Next Saturday, August 25, the town of Peachtree City, Ga. will be holding it's inaugural Ride To Remember for Sgt. Michael Stokely who lost his life two years ago tomorrow in Baghdad, Iraq when an IED detonated near his position. The patrol he was with had stopped and the NCO in charge had everyone take a rest while he walked back down the road with a Corporal to check out something suspicious. Sgt. Stokely refused to to rest, and instead took up a flanking position at the rear of his truck to watch their backs. Which, as a Cav Scout dismount, he saw as his job. The NCO and Corporal heard cracking noises and made their way to the sound when they were hit by an explosion. The NCO was seriously wounded but the Corporal made it through without a scratch. Sgt. Stokely, however, wasn't so lucky.

You can read more about Sgt. Michael Stokely here and here.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. To find out more about Wednesday Hero, you can go here.

He looks so young there.

Tuesday, August 14


Originally uploaded by • Weda3eah •.

Nothing says summer to my kids like Watermelon.
Unless you are Little O. Then it's Waterlemon.

Monday, August 13

Ding! Dong! The Witch is Dead!

No, Not Merv Griffin (RIP Merv, I owe you one for writing the world's most annoying theme song. I'll be singing Jeopardy all day now...).

I'm talking about the dark prince of world affairs, the Beelzebub of domestic policy--wait, Cheney? No, He's still praying for a good old fashioned grassy knoll.

But Karl Rove has decided he's wreaked all the havoc he can in lil Dubya's puddin brain. With one year to go has decided to "step down" back to the stinking bubbling ooze he crawled out of.

Can I get a Whoop! Whoop!

Sunday, August 12

Sunday Quizzez--WTF?

You're Libya!

It seems that these days, you just say things to get attention.
 Shock value is the really important thing for you now.  You used to have
a cause, and this made you seem like a threat to the established order, but now you
just want to say wacky stuff once in a while.  Air travel doesn't really mesh
with your lifestyle, and you'd probably scare the security guards somehow

Take the Country Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid

Jeez, Chuck, I'm freaking LIBYA? I'm like the squealing runt of the terrorist litter, here.

I'm finding another one...

Ironic, isn't it?
Which Survivor of the Impending Nuclear Apocalypse Are You?
A Rum and Monkey joint.
Maker of mediocre action pics and son of an actual Nazi, you're perhaps an insane joke on God's part. Why should you survive while others perish? Is it your hair, your brains or that manly gap in your teeth? Is it because you're going to lead California to a new tomorrow? Is it because you've paid someone enough money so that radiation doesn't harm you? Are you a real cyborg?

Arnold is the new Jesus. Stat.

Crap. Can I be Libya again? And for the record, that's a very delicate, Girly gap in my teeth.

Third time's the charm...

Your Career Type: Enterprising

You are engertic, ambitious, and sociable.

Your talents lie in politics, leading people, and selling things or ideas.

You would make an excellent:

Auctioneer - Bank President - Camp Director

City Manager - Judge - Lawyer

Recreation Leader - Real Estate Agent - Sales Person

School Principal - Travel Agent - TV Newscaster

The worst career options for your are investigative careers, like mathematician or architect.

I'd have been a kick ass real estate agent, but my Ex is doing it now, and good lord he sucks at it. I don't know why he hasn't given up by now and gotten a real job. He has made salaries three times my best year, but it sure wasn't in Real Estate!

Friday, August 10

Woo Hoo Honey!

The Honey totally stepped up last night and found all kinds of listings using his mad Internet skillz, so we have options.  Not a lot in our budget, but some options, at least!
Yay, Honey!!!! 

Wednesday, August 8

Because that's how we roll in the 209...

I've talked about the working girls that troll the area around my work.
But let's really TALK.
Our girls are ROUGH around the edges--and in the middle.  I was describing the latest fashion choice I'd observed when my manager shared another story from a few years ago.  At another job in the area, they were getting a shiny new building.  She was kidding with the architect, and told him his drawing was beautiful, but he had forgotten to draw in the hookers.  He looked her in the eye and told her that he had lived all around the world, in major cities in Europe AND third world countries.  He then added that he had never before seen such tired, ugly, tore-up lookin' working girls in any of his previous homes.  He'd spent years in Mexico City, and we were the very bottom of the barrel in the world of prostitution.  Bre says when her Midwest friends come out, she makes sure they drive down Wilson Way, and spot the hookers.  But at least Wilson Way has the fresh ones.  Here next to the truck stop, we get the road dogs.   Bre has been flashed some truly apalling visuals--skirts and shirts lifted, dirty deeds done in mime to try and entice the trucker stuck in traffic behind her.  I don't know why I never see these.  I think I don't ever look away from the cars--easier to stay in my happy place.  Bre says a lot of the truckers look a little green when they are flashed, too. 
Our area is like the big hair trap, catching the last few as they circle the drain. 
Ah, civic pride, Central Valley style.

Wednesday Hero

This Week's Soldier Was Suggested By Gary

Col. James W. Harrison Jr.
Col. James W. Harrison Jr.
47 years old from Missouri
U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, Combined Forces Command Afghanistan
May 6, 2007

Duty, Honor, Country. Col. James Harrison Jr. embodied that ethos, said his family. He was committed to the mission of the United States in Afghanistan and spoke with great pride about the accomplishments of the men and women with which he served

Col. Harrison was killed on May 6 when a Taliban fighter, dressed as an Afghan police officer, shot him at point blank range at Pul-e-Charkhi prison near Kabul. Also killed along side Col. Harrison was Master Sgt. Wilberto Sabalu Jr. and two other soldiers were wounded. All four men were working as mentors to Afghan troops providing external security for the prison.

Harrison graduated from the U.S. Military Academy in 1981. He also graduated from the Military Police Basic and Advanced courses, the Combined Arms and Services Staff School, the Command and General Staff College, the Army Inspector General Course, and the Industrial College of the Armed Forces. He earned a Master of Business Administration from Syracuse University and a Master of Science degree in national security and strategic studies from the National Defense University. Before going to Afghanistan in December 2006, he was assigned to Fort Leavenworth as director of the School for Command Preparation at the Command and General Staff College.

He is survived by his wife and three sons.

To read a letter from the Afghan general in charge of the detention facility, visit Amy Proctor's site.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. To find out more about Wednesday Hero, you can go here.

Tuesday, August 7

Whining self-pity ahead.

the scandal of the starving baby
Originally uploaded by Djuliet.

Another suck ass day in the house hunt.

I think the Honey genuinely doesn't realize how much this is sucking for me. He lived on the East Side of town before we were together, and I would live there if we had no kids. But I have a son going into junior high, not fantastically socialized for THIS side of town. I could just dress him in Target bags on the East Side.

My yammering insensitive clod Ex called me to see if he could show my house, because the owner is selling it a full forty thousand dollars below market value, just to unload it, and am I SURE I couldn't find the money to buy it? FUCK OFF you lackwit. If I could buy a house, I would already have been out the door (but man, it IS going for CHEAP!). Ex's sister was a little distant at Big O's party, and that stung. Maybe it's just that we aren't close like we used to be, but I felt a chill and it made me sad. I named the Ex "Uncle Ex" to Little O because he's always going to be in our lives, which makes him more than some guy to her, but if Ex tries to chide her for her behavior again, I WILL put my foot so far up his ass He will be my new left shoe. I don't care if she is the spawn of Beelzebub himself, shut your pie hole.

(Little O is doing the exorcist thing again, channeling a demon child that bears little to no resemblance to my sunny brown eyed girl. I may have to call a priest.)

I am acutely aware of all the things I want for my kids that I cannot give them. A study came out that said that sharing a room helps kids learn people skills and how to compromise, and I can totally buy into that. But cramming a twelve year old boy and a soon to be five year old girl into a room that will require bunk beds to open the door seems to be asking a bit much of them. Can I get them a pet to make up for it? Can I afford to feed a pet? Can we tame/train the rats and call them pets?

I bought Big O new tennies for school and almost cried when he turned his nose up at the forty dollar shoes I showed him and picked up the 23.99 plain white sneaks and said "Now THAT's a Shoe!" I have a feeling my luck won't run that way with his sister.

I know we'll make it through and part of my angst is that I feel so low when I know we are so fortunate for all that we DO have.

Fucking print this post and show it to every kid you know who thinks they can afford to take a semester off. THIS is what happens when you step away from school for a "break" --Shit job, no money, wondering if the kid at In-N-Out makes more than I do.

Saturday, August 4

This could be bad.

Guitar Hero
Originally uploaded by kushana.

He's already kicking my ASS, but Big O and I are about to spend some quality time.

Guess what I got him for his birthday?

If only this translated into real-world musical skillz.

It's SO on. As long as I'm in training mode. Very slowly.


Gimme that guitar, kid.

Friday, August 3

Happy Birthday, Big O!

I don't know which of these pictures he'll hate more, but I'm saving them both for prom...

Happy 12th birthday, Bubby!
Posted by Picasa

Thursday, August 2

Rock and Roll, baby!

So today at work we were forced to change the radio station as the alterna-pop station played Bon Jovi for the third time. Bre said he sounds constipated, Ann said he sounds like Adam Sandler doing a parody of an 80's rock ballad. Do you see why I luv these wimmin?

Lo and behold, the rockin' cool AM station was playing yet another song that I adore and Bre is too young to remember. Okay, this one was not a SPECIAL favorite or anything, but a trip to Wal Mart the Dentist with a Rush song beats a slow work day trapped with Jon Bon Jovi and his impacted colon.

I was amused to find debates about the intended deeper meanings of this song. Rush has some deep and meaningful songs, but man, who has time to ponder those once you've retired your bong? They rock, and I love 'em. I still want to see them live, and am very jealous that the Mind has seen them multiple times. But I just don't have it in me to actively debate the deeper implications of ANY rock ballads anymore. Is that parenthood? Old age? Is my iTunes membership going to be revoked now that I have confessed?

Oh, yeah--the song.

There is unrest in the forest,
There is trouble with the trees,
For the maples want more sunlight
And the oaks ignore their pleas.

The trouble with the maples,
(And they're quite convinced they're right)
They say the oaks are just too lofty
And they grab up all the light.
But the oaks can't help their feelings
If they like the way they're made.
And they wonder why the maples
Can't be happy in their shade.

There is trouble in the forest,
And the creatures all have fled,
As the maples scream "Oppression!"
And the oaks just shake their heads

So the maples formed a union
And demanded equal rights.
"The oaks are just too greedy;
We will make them give us light."
Now there's no more oak oppression,
For they passed a noble law,
And the trees are all kept equal
By hatchet, axe, and saw.

Like Buttah.

My children get the shaft. 
I KNOW I don't do enough fun things with them, I KNOW I don't take advantage of "teaching moments" and impart my wisdom.
On the days my mommy guilt gets to be too much, we do something simple with the ingredients on hand.  Last night it was cookies.
I told Little O we'd make sugar cookies, from scratch, and roll 'em out.  Needless to say, she was very excited. 
"Let's make them NOW, mama." 
"We have to wait for the buter to get soft, Baby."
"Soft like furry hair?"
I love my O's.