Believe

My Bear, at 7 years old, still believes that Santa Claus is keeping tabs on him and whatever good/bad he does will have a direct impact on what will be under the Christmas tree on Christmas morning.  So we always make sure to only see Santa ONCE a year in order to avoid the awkward

"What would you like for Christmas, young man?"
"Santa, I told you last week at the mall. Don't you remember? Dad! Why doesn't Santa remember me?!"

A neighboring town across the lake does a "Walk of Lights" every year and they have a great Santa.

 Here they are going over The List:

And the annual photo op with smiles:

Merry Christmas, y'all!!!

Hot Crystal & Her Clown: A Christmas Story

I could've sworn I blogged about this particular Christmas memory back when it happened but I can't find it in the archives so . . . . if it's a repeat, keep reading.  It's still funny as hell.

Back at Christmas 2007, my Bear was only 3 years old but already blessed with an impressive and entertaining vocabulary. And to this day he still cracks us up with some of the comments he makes.

But let's go back to 2007.  You'll need a little background since it's been a while and our circumstances have changed.  At the time, Big Daddy was the Sheriff of our home county.  As such, he was well acquainted with the local outlaws and persons of interest.  One of said locals was a young lady (mid-20s) by the name of Crystal Crutcher.*  Crystal was not exactly, shall we say, particular about the guys she got hooked up with nor about her personal appearance and/or hygiene.  Crystal's brother, as luck would have it, married a gal by the name of Crystal, too.  So now there were two Crystal Crutchers.  The second Crystal was actually a somewhat pretty young lady that took care with her appearance and with her two new, um, attributes so generously purchased for her by her new husband, she cleaned up purty good.

So, in general conversation, what's a cop to do in order to keep the regularly tagged Crystal of interest identified separately from the mostly law-abiding attractive sister-in-law?

Well, in telling me about something that the rougher Crystal was involved in, Big Daddy gave her the moniker "Skank Crystal."  One thing led to another and we before we knew it we were referring to Skank Crystal and Hot Crystal, in order to identify them separately.

Shortly before Christmas 2007, Hot Crystal had some yard decorations in front of her house that were of the inflatable and lighted variety.  She had a Christmas tree and a Santa Claus and she also had a big inflatable snowglobe with a snowman inside of it.  Considering the time of year, it was usually coming on dark whenever me and Bear would be driving home from daycare and we always drove past Hot Crystal's house since it was on our route to our house.  Keep in mind also that he referred to the snowman as a "clown" - even though I tried to correct him, he had a hard time remembering "snowman."

So one evening we were driving by and Hot Crystal had not turned on her inflatable Christmas decorations and it was probably the second or third day in row that we drove by and nothing was going on.  Bear, sitting securely strapped in his carseat in the backseat of my truck, asked me why the decorations weren't working.  I distinctly remember saying, "Well, honey, I guess she just hasn't plugged them in yet tonight."

*silence*

Then suddenly he shouts:

"HOT CRYSTAL!!! PLUG IN YOUR CLOWN!!!!'





*Actual names have been changed to protect the "innocent until proven guilty but still stupid" regardless of the law's definition.

Family Christmas Picture

  (blank)



The freaking cord to my practically new camera is DOA and for some crazy reason the pictures stored to the CAMERA! and not to the SD CARD! so now I have no way to get our picture OFF THE FREAKING CAMERA! for our annual Christmas card!

oy.

"Nobody likes change . . . " - Ross Geller

So I've decided to shake things up a little.  I've changed the name and the look of my blogspace. I have no idea why.

Maybe part of it is because I am no longer a city girl living in the country.  I lost my city manners long ago and a trip to a local courthouse today only enforced how not in the city we are out here. Somebody needs to send the "What Not to Wear" crew out here . . . .

But I'm not living in the city again either, we're kind of subrural.  And I'm feeling more like a country girl who drives a truck and rides 4wheelers and wears boots 5 days out of 7 . . . wait.

I am a country girl.

Hey somebody hold my beer . . . . y'all watch this!!

The Speed of Life

I'm sure that title has been put to good use more than once by some author or other to make big bucks in the published world but I'm using it anyways.

It seems like just last week I was out here posting a blog and catching up with others but apparently not.  It's been MONTHS since I've been out here. And that does not make me happy.

Wanna know why?

Because that means that life is just flying by and I don't seem to have a handle on catching the moments when they happen.  I still can't believe it's been almost 3 years since we relocated after the Husband's lost re-election.  But it still seems like a whole other lifetime ago.

The Bear is in 2nd grade already talking about the 3rd.  He is testing for his green belt in karate this week.  His soccer team got 2nd place last week for the season.  We are two weeks into owning a pig named Olivia that he will be showing at the stock show in January.  Then baseball starts in March.

Whew!  But I guess being busy with an active and outgoing kid is better than sitting around watching reruns on tv and increasing my imprint on the sofa cushions.

We've increased our "travel" calendar to include a week in the mountains for skiing and snowboarding at Christmas.  So along with the two weeks in summer and the one week in May, four weeks of vacation a year is something to appreciate.  And I do.

I hope the next time I'm out here it's not months down the road but only a few days or maybe a week.

And there's CHRISTMAS to get ready for!!!!!

Others They Got None

Enough of the pissing and moaning. I'm over it.  A couple of things didn't work out as planned and I find it is so much easier to just say "At this point I really don't even care."

Reverse psychology works every time, dontcha know?

We're getting geared up for a new school year around here: 2nd grade!  And if you weren't already aware, 2nd grade is much much more difficult than 1st grade.  Know how I know? Because my soon-to-be-2nd-grader told me so.

Anyhoo, I'm going to start working on see more humor in the stuff life throws our way and when I do, I'll be sure to post it out here for all to enjoy.

It's Not that I'm Not Grateful. . .

because I'm really not.

We got back from two wonderful weeks in the mountains of northern New Mexico and this has been my first week back to work.

It blows.

Don't get me wrong. I am very grateful/lucky/cursed to have a job (even though it pays what I made in Dallas in 1994) and I would much rather have it than deal with unemployment and foodstamps.

But going on vacation away from the infernal Texas heat only brings into brilliant focus what is wrong with our life.  Currently, we cannot even go outside and play with our son for fear of heatstroke or dehydration.  And this summer is not all that unusual for us Texans as it is for northeasterners and northerners.  The drought situation comes around here every few years or so.  The last "nice" summer we had was in 2008.  It rained frequently and the temp barely made it to 95° a couple of days.

While we were on vacation, we played outside EVERY SINGLE day!  If we weren't riding the 4wheelers, we were hiking.  If we weren't hiking, we were fishing.  If we weren't fishing, we were in town walking all over the place and playing at the playground. Just DOING STUFF as a family.

With this freaking heat, we pretty much hang out at the house in our pajamas in the a/c.  Day in and day out.

I WANT MORE LIFE!!!!  And it's NOT to be found inside the house every single day of summer!!!!!

Something is going to change.

I'm Too Excited to Sleep!!!

We're only 5 short days away from our vacation in the cool mountains of New Mexico.  We'll be heavy two new Polaris 4wheelers this trip and so there's some extra excitement of the testosterone variety.

We've been hammered the last few weeks with 95° plus degree temperatures and today we are hovering at the 100° right now.  So a nice two week break from the heat is going to be very very welcome.

Not much other news going on with us. Enjoying the summer break away from school and constant shuttling to and fro with extracurricular activities.  We fully intend to rev back up once school starts in the fall but for now we are all about life off the clock.

Cheers!

Wow.

Just realized one of the blogs I have enjoyed reading just went to "invited readers only."

Ok.

umm . . . . get over yourself.

Road Trip!

Since we moved to the lake two years ago, we have been talking about taking a quick trip to the coast so the Bear can see the ocean.  Plus there is the Texas State Aquarium and the USS Lexington to see while we are there.

We've been knocked off tracks a few times so we haven't been able to make the coast trip happen but we're making it happen now.  I just reserved a teeny tiny itsy bitsy beachfront condo for a few days next month and we're gonna spend our time enjoying the beach and the sites and hopefully some really great fresh seafood.

And if you've been thinking about a getaway but need to do it on a small budget, check out Vacation Rentals by Owner.  The rates are usually less (sometimes tax free!) and the accommodations are nicer simply because the owners use the place too so they like to keep it nice for themselves.

I'll post some pics when we get back!

You Don't Come First Anymore!!!

I'm going to vent a little bit about the job.

In the course of business, my office handles CPS (Child Protective Services) cases.  On the majority of cases we are appointed as attorney ad litems for children meaning we represent the child's interests in the court proceedings. CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates) acts as the "ground troups" since CPS caseworkers are so overloaded.  CASA is the very critical "filler" to keep even one child from "falling through the cracks."

I'm not even going to attempt to give any of these parents the benefit of the doubt.  Mainly because I haven't seen a single one that deserved to be p***ed on if they were on fire, much less more opportunity to keep their children in abusive, neglectful and miserable, most times squalid, conditions.

The majority of these parents are hardcore drug addicts.  Every once in a while we will run across a parent who is just plain lazy/miserable and could care less about their children being happy and healthy.  Believe me . . . there are children in every single community in this world who are either being abused and/or neglected.  This crap does not discriminate along economic, race, religious, etc lines.  Although you will find almost every child of a drug addict being neglected.  Feeding their addiction is the addict's number one priority.  Feeding the kids? Not so much.

Which brings me to my job complaint for today.

We started out two years ago representing a little 3 year old girl (Leila) and her 8 month old half brother (Will).  CPS was contacted to intervene due to neighbors noticing the lack of care they were receiving from their meth-addled mother.  Both children are the products of "transactions" with two different dealers.  At the time of Leila and Will's rescue (really? what else do I call it?), their mother was pregnant again and still strung out on meth.  After the baby (Esteban) was born in late 2009, he was immediately rescued too.  Then in late 2010, another baby (Zina) was born.  She was rescued also.  All four children are now in the care of two different families with Leila and Will with one family and the two babies with another family.  CASA reports that all children are happy and healthy with only Leila having some dental problems.

You'd think that the mother would work her butt of to get clean since she's been screaming since day one that she "lives for her babies, her babies mean the world to her, she can't live without her babies!!"

Horse hockey.

She can't live without her meth and when push comes to shove, SHE comes first.  She's gonna get her fix and everybody else can go to hell.  But the whole while she is screaming to get her kids back and how much she loves them.

I am so sick of these piece of poo parents who don't give a rat's behind about their kids when they have them. But they get all offended and indignant when someone comes and takes better care of the kids.  Actually gives the kids a chance at being happy and healthy. Hey! Wait a minute!! Actually gives these kids a chance at being . . . . . a KID!!!

Let's not forget the case about the7 year old girl who routinely cleaned up her mom's vomit and got herself to school for almost 2 weeks before the teacher realized that the little girl was dealing with something pretty bad at home and instigated an investigation.  Luckily that little girl was re-united with her Dad who had divorced the mother because of her alcoholism and drug abuse but the court gave custody to the mother.  Once the court did that, the mother made it dang near impossible for the Dad to get his visitation. Go figure.

Today we got notice that one of the drug addict parents wants to relinquish their parental rights.

You know what?  I couldn't agree more.

A Wish to Live Forever

I met a fairy today who said she would grant me one wish.

"I want to live forever!" I exclaimed.

"Sorry. I'm not allowed to grant wishes like that," she answered.

Smiling slyly, I then said: "Fine. I want to die after Congress gets their heads out of their . . . .!"

As she narrowed her eyes and tightened her mouth, she replied, "You crafty bas . . . . . . ."

Two Dog (or Kid) Theory

Reading another great blog today wherein Oilfield Trash referenced his 10% Theory, made me recall our "Two Dog Theory."

As some of you may know, we have a 9 year old rescue dog named Hank. He is of the most handsome persuasion (he made me write that) and we loves him much.  Since we got Hank right after we moved to the country with lots of extra acres to spare, we didn't hesitate to rescue another pup from our local shelter.  Roger was of the very sweet and lovable, though particularly dim, persuasion.  Roger was with us for several months when one evening he and Hank went venturing off our property.  Now, what two 50+ lb. dogs could not accomplish on our multiple acres that they had to actually travel an extended amount of time to just get clear of, we have no idea. But they did and in the wee hours of the morning Hank came home.  Alone.

After an extensive search and even a lost pet notice published in the local newspaper, we never saw Roger Dog again. It was a very sad time at our house.  Even Hank seemed a somewhat forlorn that his little buddy was missing.  He had to chase squirrels and Joe Kitty all by himself.  And we all know how un-fun that can be.

Fast forward to the next year.  Big Daddy's brother in the next county had a yellow Lab momma with a litter of pups.  They had found homes for all but one.  Afterwards we figured out why.  But by that time I was in lurve with Cecil and there was no way I wasn't going to take him home with me.

Cecil was of the solid like concrete persuasion and only slighter smarter. He was BIG for a pup and we wondered if we could afford to feed him and Hank plus the horses.  But he was very very lovable and he LOVED riding in the truck.  We had to park the truck outside the fence when he was out so he wouldn't tackle the truck trying to jump in the back.  We knew we couldn't afford to add auto body bills to an already ginormous dog food bill.

When Cecil was about 10 months old (and 80+ lbs), he had a terrible seizure.  We rushed him to the vet and after a very close brush with death and several IVs of medicine, he was stablized after two days and had a positive prognosis. The vet speculated that it was either poison  (set out by neighboring ranchers to kill ground hogs) or a genetic condition that would require daily medication.  It was a wait and see situation.  After a couple of restful days at home, Cecil perked up and ate his breakfast for the first time in 4 days. We thought he was going to make it.  The next night, he suffered another really bad seizure.  It only lasted a couple of minutes and when he came to, he seemed exhausted.  We decided to take him back to the vet.  He walked himself to a corner of the yard and laid down.  He wouldn't come to us when we beckoned him.  So we left him alone and checked on him periodically through the night.  He was breathing and sleeping so we thought getting to the vet the next morning would be okay.  Hank was by his side the whole time.

The next morning dawned and before I got out of my pajamas I went to check on Cecil.  He was gone.  As in left the property.  Hank was, too.  Part of me was hoping Cecil was fine and they went off on an adventure (which they knew they weren't supposed to do) but it still made me feel relief that he was going to be okay after all.

Hank came home the next day.  Alone.  We never saw Cecil again.

Some time after that I picked up a scared, skinny little yellow Lab female in the middle of the highway.  I brought her home and fed her.  Posted a notice in the newpaper about a found dog.  No responders.  So she became Macy.  About 3 weeks later Macy went off with Hank.

Hank came back home later.  Alone.

September 2008: a friend's Mastiff had 9 pups and not enough dinner plates.  So "Bart" got kicked out of the kitchen.  We bottle fed him and got him nice and fat and happy.  The best thing about Bart was that you could not talk him out of the house or yard away from the food bowl if your life depended on it.  We were confident that Bart would not be persuaded to follow Hank out on one of his "two go out, one comes back" excursions.

December 2008: We came home to one dog in the yard.  Hank.

So, along with witnessing the fun (?) our friends have with multiple children and our own luck with multiple dogs, we are true believers of the One Dog Theory.  We judiciously applied it to our family plan.  One kid also.

We have made it abundantly clear to Hank that he is NOT considered an adequate supervisor for the child.

I'd Do All Over Again

Today is a pretty special day.  Why it's not being widely publicized and on all the morning shows, I don't understand. Apparently rebels in Libya trying oust a dictator is important or sumthin.

But for those of you not in the know, today marks 9, count 'em, NINE years since me and Big Daddy took a stroll down the aisle of matrimony and made honest folk of each other. This anniversary is noteworthy if for no other reason than beng married to me is his longest relationship on record.  Second of course being the years shared with Hanker Dog.

A LOT has happened since that bright spring day in March 2002:

We sold almost everything we owned and quit really good paying jobs to move to the country.
We found out that living good has nothing to do with the numbers.
We endured a vicious political campaign to ultimately see Big Daddy declared Sheriff of the county.
We ventured off into gift store ownership that ended with a tough lesson learned.
We welcomed a beautiful baby Bear into our lives on April 14, 2004.
We got horses!!! and sheep and a 127-year old donkey named Peso.
We went through another vicious libelous political campaign that ended in defeat.
We questioned seven years of sincere, well-intentioned decisions.
We almost went under financially. Almost.
We started over.

So basically, we've been living life.

And loving every minute of it together.



"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." - 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Gettin it for FREE!! Yay Me!

You can count me among the technologically challenged who could not care less about the iPhone or the Kinect gaming system and all that other hoo-ha.

I use my cell phone for, SURPRISE!, phone calls. A lot of times I must resort to texting since the majority of my family/friends/enemies would really rather not actually speak on the phone.

Big Daddy, on the hand, is counting down the days until his current crap phone (brand new Crackberry) is due for it's annual upgrade so that he can get his sweaty paws on the newest fastest most awesomest iPhone. Of course, at this time we have no idea which iPhone it will be seeing as how a new one comes out on the market every Tuesday. But he doesn't care . . . . he's just anxiously awaiting October 11th.  D-Day. Discontinue Day for the Crackberry.

I have to give him props though. My upgrade date was last week.  I still have my old phone (actually his old phone).  The flip phone that he got brand new in the summer of 2009.  I pathetically coveted that phone. Because it had a great keyboard and larger than normal screen.  Almost like a little mini laptop. I was stuck with the freebie phone that, even when it authentically got stolen, I HAD TO PAY $40 FREAKING BUCKS TO GET IT REPLACED!!!! But as soon as Big Daddy's first upgrade date came due, he cavalierly tossed aside the beautiful mini laptop for the Crackberry. And me and Mini have been very happy since.

But alas . . . Mini's warranty went out 6 months ago.  And it's as if the very life has slowly ebbed from Mini's lithium-ion polymer battery.  Mini shuts off in mid-text.  Mini shuts off with a full charge.  Mini shuts off during the wee hours of the night so that the alarm fails to wake me.

So . . . Mini is history.

Went online yesterday and for the low low low price of ZILCH (and an additional two year contract).

I am giddily expecting this little beauty to arrive some time next week!!!  OH! did I mention free shipping, too!??!!!!

Mathletics 101

I'm sure juggling a budget is nothing new to anyone out here in the blogosphere, unless a lottery winner is reading and we all know how those folk piss off every cent before even glancing at the balance book.

I have spent the better part of the last three workdays hammering out a projected income/expense spreadsheet for the family. Apparently living like Rockefellers has not worked to our advantage and now, in anticipation of our annual summer vacation, we're going to have to do some serious belt-tightening to at least cover the expected fuel costs.  First casualty is going to be those silly expenditures such as toothpaste and deodorant.

No, really.  We're getting it down to the dollar here, people.  When you think about it, $0.58333333 is just an assinine amount of money to spend on a roll of toilet paper. No pun intended.

But during all the eye-crossing number-crunching, I think I have maybe initiated a new way for our little family to view our income and expenses.  And if my new budget is anywhere near successful, we gonna have us a little celebratory happening.  Like the purchase of a big ticket item we've been eye-ballin' for a couple of years.

And so long as my retirement plan of winning a multi-million dollar sweepstakes pans out, we're good.

Flashback: Aaron Watson @ Bertram Smokehaus

First let me say that I am NOT in a good mood about this blog. It's pretty much a slam but it has also been a beeyotch to get posted. I did it TWICE this week and both times gremlins booted me off before I could save it. Crap.

And if you think that is any indication that I need to be sweeter in this post or it will get kicked back too, you're wrong. I'm determined to be as gripey as I wanna be about this particular issue.

Here goes. We went to the Bertram Smokehaus this past Saturday night to see Aaron Watson. He was TERRIFIC. He sounded great (when I could hear him over the crowd noise) and he was an absolute doll when he came off stage to sign autographs and take pictures with his fans. I definitely want to see him again. Only not at Bertram.

Enough about Aaron. Let's get to the b***h-fest. The show was advertised to start at 7pm. The opening act didn't come on until after 8:30. That makes this next fact even more aggravating. There was NO PLACE to sit. The two picnic tables to the side of the stage were "reserved" so the rest of us were left to stand for 4-5 hours. No where in the advertisements did it say anything about "bring your own furniture." Except for the complete lack of seating, the venue is really nice. It is a patio next to an old hotel/restaurant (which I will talk more about in a minute) with a gazebo stage. There is also a covered pavilion on the other side of the patio with a big bar and some pool tables. Great set up for outdoor music. And the weather was beautiful.

What was it about this place that has me disinterested in ever going there again? The crowd.

I have never in my life been at a public event where people were so totally and completely rude. Not only were they SO LOUD that you could barely hear Aaron singing, standing in line and waiting to be next was apparently not something any of them were familiar with either. There was one guy I seriously wanted to punch in the jewels - I had been standing in line for 20 WHOLE MINUTES when he walks up, winks at the bargirl and gives her his order. WTH? Not a single gentleman in the place (except for my husband and probably Aaron).

The third time, yes third time, I went to get a drink, I finally went in to the restaurant's bar to stand in line. It was a little bit long but the bartenders seemed to be keeping it moving and orderly. I walked in and got in line, a girl got in line behind me (volunteer firewoman hence Fire Girl), then Drunk Dude came in behind her, and finally Blue Turd (asshole wearing a blue shirt) got in line. I strike up a conversation with Drunk Dude and Fire Girl and we start talking about the building. Apparently Drunk Dude is a history buff because he knew all sorts of stuff about the old building. Okay, I'm no scholar but the building was pretty much laid out like a big open restaurant (saloon?) with the second floor landing going around the room with about 12 rooms upstairs. There was a big double staircase at the end of the room and a big long mirror on one wall. Seeing as how the building sat next to the railroad tracks, I assumed it was originally built as a hotel/restaurant or saloon/hotel or something like that. Well, Drunk Dude dissuaded me of that particular notion right quick. "No no no, this here was origly a yumber yard." Yumber yard? Oh, he meant lumber yard. Okay, I'm with ya - drunkbonics. So I asked Drunk Dude, "But what about the rooms upstairs? This really looks like it was built to be a hotel with a restaurant or saloon." He blinked at me like five times then said, "Noooooooooooo, it was a YUMBER YARD."

Okay, okay. It was a yumber yard. Because they always kept lumber upstairs in little rooms back then. Whatever.

Fire Girl and I just kind of look at each other. He's drunk but short fat and belligerent. We like him. Then I notice that all of sudden, Blue Turd is standing right next to me. EXCUUUUUUUUUUSE ME?!!!??! I. Do. Not. Think. So.

"Where do you think you're going?" I ask of Blue Turd.

"I'm just standing in line."

"And you're gonna stand your a** at the back of the line where you came in at." I was in NO MOOD to deal with this poo for a THIRD time.

Once I got through cussin him, I turned around and looked at the couple in front of me. They looked at me like, "Oh no, don't make eye contact with her. She's insane, she's insane. Should we go? I think we should go. Let's go."

I just smiled at them and calmly said, "I have stood in line tonight for a total of about 45 minutes and I have yet to get a drink because of jerks like him slitherin around and trying to cut in line. I really need a drink. Don't you think I need a drink?"

They both vigorously nodded in agreement: Yes yes yes you need a drink.

I thought so.

When I look back at Drunk Dude swaying behind me, he's giving me that wide open eyeballs rolling around look that says, "I just came in for a beer. I don't even know you people."

When I make it up to the bar, Drunk Dude taps me on the shoulder and says, "I think you mighta scarred him. I dunno where he went."

Where'd who go? Oh, gee. Looks like Blue Turd got outta line and left. Nice.

So I get my drink, go back outside and stand next to the husband for another 2.5 hours and finally get my picture with Aaron.

I'm blaming the rude crowd on the fact that 99% of them were from UT. Liberal outhouse. Guns Up!

Funniest thing of the night: Aaron's sound board had one of those big red Easy buttons from Staples sitting right in the middle of it. Hilarious.

Leave It!

Having stayed at home these last two weekdays with a sick little Bear, I have gotten a bellyful of daytime tv. It was so bad at one point that I actually found myself watching "It's Me or the Dog" on AnimalPlanet.  Who knew AnimalPlanet aired such comedy?

The episode I caught was about a misbehaving canine (say it ain't so!) who expressed himself via gnawing on furniture, household appliances, and even the house itself.

So the trainer comes in and does her training thing, part of which is teaching the "leave it!" command to the dog.  Who, by the way named Carl, ruled the roost.  Just when it looked like he was gonna put his paw down about learning any silly rules from some British chippy, he actually obeyed the command.  The trainer informed the owners that Carl was not gnawing out of "separation anxiety" (there was a second non-gnawing sweet natured dog in the house too) but was doing so out of boredom.  All he had to learn was that his toys were for gnawing, Dog #2 and the house (with its contents) were not.

So after learning the new command, the trainer set up cameras and speakers in the house and had the owners leave.  Within 2 minutes of being left in the house, Carl ambles into the living room and starts gnawing on the coffee table.

As soon as he does, the trainer's voice booms out of the speakers: "LEAVE IT!!"

Carl stops gnawing. Lifts his head up and looks around.  I am totally not kidding when I say the look on his face was: "What the h---?"

Dog #2? He was laying on his bed nearby, just snoozing a little. With "LEAVE IT!" still rattling the rafters, Dog #2's rear end can be seen fishtailing out of the living room.

It was hilarious. Ah, daytime tv.

I think I mighta lost a couple of IQ points on that one.

and THAT'S why we give up and eat a whole box of Ho-Hos!

Yeah, you can count me among the unwashed masses that routinely make unsuccessful attempts at fitness. So there.

I'm one of those that enjoys working or playing at something that is physically exerting and thereby getting my "workout" without actually calling it "exercise."  Working with horses or out in the yard or playing volleyball, those are the things I enjoy doing that give a pretty good workout while I'm having fun.  Last weekend me and Big Daddy spent 4 hours going through stuff from our old storage building, throwing stuff out, re-organizing and re-packing in new boxes, then lugging said new boxes up to the attic with its newly laid flooring.

4 hours.  Multiple 20 and 30 lb boxes. Temperature in the attic: 85°+.  All of that equals a lot of sweat and muscle participation.

Now, on top of that, I recently dusted off the old treadmill in an effort to shed a few pounds that sneaked up behind me when I wasn't looking.  And when I say "behind" I mean my ass.

So, for eight days straight I was walking (at a brisk pace, mind you) 1.5 miles on the treadmill.  Except the one day we spent working in the attic.  One the ninth day, with much positive anticipation, I happily marched myself over to the scale to weigh in and see how much havoc I had wreaked on those extra pounds.  I confidently expected to see many of them missing as a casualty of my determination and fortitude.

One pound.

WTH?  I can lose one pound WHILE I SLEEP!

But a dear friend (they'll say anything to make us happy, won't they?) told me, "It's cause you're building muscle . . . you're not going to see a drop in the scale."

Yeah.  Yeah, that's it. I'm muscling up.

STOP TALKING TO ME!

Here's the deal: At work, I don't like talking to people who have a problem that I cannot help them with.

If their problem is my responsibility, I am glad to help and happy to be of service in any way that I can.  But if someone has a problem and it is not within my scope of knowledge, the first thing I want to do is get them connected with someone who DOES know how to help them.

It pisses me off to no end to have someone say, "Yeah, this and that and that happened and what can be done about it?"

My response: "So-and-so is the one handling that matter, let me get them for you."

Them: "Well, such and such and this and that . . ."

Me: "Sir, I have no clue as to this situation. Let's get So-and-so since he is the one you need to talk to."

Them: "Well, more blah blah blah . . . . "

Me: "STOP TALKING TO ME!!!"

It is becoming more and more painfully obvious to me that I do not need to be interacting with the public in general.

To Be or Not To Be: Mental

Maybe some of you can commiserate with me. Or maybe I'm the lucky one and none of you have the vaguest idea about what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about kRaZy people.  Apparently I have received more than my quota and I would like to return a couple, thankyouverymuch.

I will be honest though.  For the most part, I can control the amount of kRaZy within my vicinity by simply limiting its access to me, my family, and our telephone numbers.  But there's always some kRaZy that slips through due to the sheer level of kRaZy involved.

I am related to kRaZy by marriage so . . . unless I am feeling like Big Daddy's usefulness has run out, I'm pretty much stuck with it.  If we're not putting out one psychological fire, we're putting out another.  And it is constant maintenance on relationships that kRaZy habitually gnaws on like old bleached out bones.  There is never a shortage of flammable material when kRaZy's around because if nothing is there, kRaZy just makes it up! Fun for all.

But there is an upside.  Whenever kRaZy doesn't elicit any kind of response . . . I know there is misery at kRaZy's house. And kRaZy isn't smart enough to do the math.

ooh . . . . look! More kRaZy heading this way!

Flashback: Kevin Fowler @ HarperFest

We traveled to Harper to see Kevin Fowler play a benefit concert for the Harper Community Park. It was totally worth the trip and I definitely want to see him again. He and his band sounded great and played for about 2 hours. Only bad thing was he didn't play "Get Along." Big Daddy is convinced that Kevin knows me and wrote that song about me. It's my theme song these days.

But let's get started, shall we?

I'm thinking the evening is going to be a winner all around when I score a front row parking spot right outside the park. That is until I tagged the tree when I was backing up. Perfect. Because right now I am working on trading up to a bigger truck and a jacked up tailgate always increases the trade-in value. Right, Ragina?

Anyhoo, I park it and leave it. Too late to worry about it now. Besides, there was a long ass line to get in to the park to see Kevin. Me and Big Daddy (being the brainiacs that we are) remembered to bring our big plastic adirondack lawnchairs to sit in. So we get in line with our big ass non-folding white chairs and start inching toward the gate. It takes for friggin ever because security is checking every ID - - Great. Mine was in the truck. Like 50 yards back. Screw it. I'll take the big ass black magic marker "M" on my hand if I have to. I ain't goin back for the ID.

So we finally get to the gate with cash and Big Daddy's ID in hand ready to transact. The security guy takes one look at our big white chairs and just waves us through. Oh yeah. Only old farts think to bring big plastic white chairs to a kick ass concert in the park. Take note, younguns. If you want to skate past security, just bring your lawnchair. It adds like 20 years to your appearance.

We get in, score some good real estate about 25 feet from stage right. Cool. All is good until Kevin comes out. Like a big dark cloud rolling through, the biggest guy and his biggest gal park they big asses RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. So we relocate to about 20 feet further stage right. Still a good view of the stage but closer to the speakers - yeow.

One highlight to the evening was when some drunk idiot decided to pick a fight with somebody in the crowd about 5 feet from the stage. Kevin stopped singing just long enough to humiliate the guy and tell him he was about to get his ass kicked by 2,000 of Kevin's buddies. Priceless. Nothing quite like having somebody like Kevin Fowler call you a dick over the load speakers.

After the show, we stood in line so I could get my picture with Kevin. Got it but I look seven kinds of WASTED so that one won't get posted. I may call Kevin and have him meet me at GlamourShots so I can get a decent picture of us together.

It's the least he can do.

COOLEST MOMENT OF THE SHOW: Kevin and his band starting playing the opening riffs to Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train" then started playing a rowdy version of "Loose Loud and Crazy"!

Whatever Makes Me Feel Good

Over on fb (facebook for those of you non-ADHD types who can actually wait to see what anyone is up to and you don't require instant gratification), a friend posted something about her husband's very special Valentine's Day gift to her.

He made a donation to her favorite charity in her honor.  I LOVE THAT!

We have been doing donations for our loved ones (adults and families, the kids still got some goods besides a Thank You for the donation card) at Christmas.  I mean, really.  At our age what could we possibly get that we don't already have?  Forget the big ticket items we all have on our "someday" list.  I'm talking about things that we really need or are reasonably nice that we would like to have.  Maybe I'm different but I don't like waiting for my birthday or anniversary to get what I want.  I get it when I decide I need to have it.  That part of my personality really pisses Big Daddy off. He says I ruin holidays for him. (Which is bullshirt because you can practically see the sparkles in his eyes when he's opening his own gifts.)

And in honor of Black Jack's (my Dad) 71st birthday yesterday, I made a donation to SPCA International for their No Buddy Gets Left Behind mission.  Black Jack lurves the puppy dogs.  And SPCA is very special to our hearts because our own Hanker Dawg was a rescue from the Hill Country SPCA in July 2002.  He is the second longest relationship Big Daddy has ever had. (First is me.)

So, the next time someone is celebrating a milestone or special occasion of any kind, a donation in their name to a worthwhile cause is ALWAYS a good choice.

Believe me . . . YOU'LL be feeling like the honored one.

Country Girl Movie Review

"Life as We Know It"

I wasn't expecting much from this movie - just the general romantic comedy with the always cute Katherine Heigl and the frat guy hottie Josh Duhamel.

But I was so wonderfully surprised.  It's a very straight to your heart kind of movie with its subject matter in that it reminds us that while tragedy happens, life moves on and that we are allowed to laugh again. I think as parents we all try to keep our minds from going down that path of "what if something happened to us?" I'm not going to spill any details but it is a great movie. Be prepared to laugh and cry.

Also, another reason to love the movie is fantastic soundtrack. It includes one of my all time favorites:

Common Sense = Anti-Education?

Although technically I don't have a dog in this hunt, I still have a very much loved sister-in-law whose family does. As do many other people.

The Austin ISD is looking to cut approximately 1,000 teaching positions and close 9 schools.  Keeping in mind that Texas (most especially the Austin/Houston/Dallas-Fort Worth metro areas) have been the recipient of the majority of out-of-state relocators and also keeping in mind that the AISD Superintendent salary is $350,000+ and the median AISD teacher salary is $38-42K, I find this a ludicrous resolution to AISD's
"emergency financial" situation.

When did gutting become the best answer to healing two broken legs?

Here's my thoughts, and we will also keep in mind that I am not proclaiming to be any kind of educational/ financial/mathematical czar:

First, let's start with that Superintendent salary.  Right off the bat I see about $200K that can be sliced right off the top there.

Second, I'm willing to bet that the majority of those 1,000 teachers would be agreeable to some type of "cut salary now, review the district's ability to bump it back up in ___ years." The same would go for benefits: get a higher deductible on the district's health insurance so the premiums would be lowered.

There are hundreds, possibly thousands of areas where the district could cut spending TEMPORARILY without having to fire teachers and close schools.  And it can start at the bottom.  Stop watering school lawns.  Big deal if the grass dies.  Ask teachers to turn out classroom lights if they have classrooms that are able to have a good source of natural daylight and turn on hallway lights only during class changes.  Encourage staff to keep paper usage to a minimum - save the paper for the students' schoolwork.  Staff memos and teacher information can be decimated via email or verbally. (I see a HUGE use of paper at my son's school - most of which hits our trash can.)

And this is just the little stuff.  The big stuff can come in the form of a moratorium on new construction and special projects, freeze hiring, etc.  But I don't think the answer is to fire hundreds of teachers and close schools. I really really don't.  I think it will be harder to recover from that kind of action than it would be to recover from hardline money-saving practices implemented temporarily.  And when I say temporarily, maybe best case scenario would be 1-2 years and worst case scenario would be 5-6 years.

I don't understand why the same principles that families are forced to apply to their dwindling budgets are not applied to government and business dwindling budgets.

It seems like it's all pretty much about dollars and sense.

Quote of the Day

"All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen." - - Ralph Waldo Emerson

My Snaggle Tooth Valentine

Last night was the Bear's Valentine concert at school. He was all decked out in his starched jeans, white shirt and red tie. He looked adorable.

And that smile?



Probably worth about $4 grand in orthodontics. oy

Flashback: Trent Willmon @ Gilley's Dallas

We made it to Gilley's Dallas on Saturday night to see Trent Willmon. He did a great concert and I'm glad I was able to enjoy it (partially) sober.

But let's start at the beginning. The club is in a great location just on the other side of I-35 from downtown Dallas. It was literally right around the curve from our hotel (Hyatt Regency - great stay!). Don't let the hookers and barred-window liquor stores put you off. This location is good because it is in a semi-industrial area so you're not trying to work your way through people traffic or fight the crowds to other clubs. The closest other club is about 2 blocks away in another warehouse. Very cool.

So we parked out back in a huge parking lot with no clue as to where the front door is. There is no front door - the front door is in the back. We should have gotten a good idea of the crowd when we walked past the old guy snoozing in the mini-van parked closed to Trent's bus. Hmmm.

Since Big Daddy seemed to be outweighed by the women walking in ahead of us, the club shoulda been called "Buffalo Stampede." His words, not mine.

When we walked in the dj was playing "Get Down Tonight." Okay. I vaguely remember the 70s when I was 4. Was that a good song back then? Cause it ain't a good song now.

Anyhoo, I'm just gonna tell it like it was. The talent* was piss poor. Not even mediocre. BUT that always makes for good fun for ME! We parked ourselves in front of a bar and about 20 feet from the stage/dancefloor. Perfect. We had a good view of Trent and at the same time we could watch the "All Humiliation Network" on the dance floor.

I would like to take this opportunity to extend my sympathy to Trent - I want him to know that he should in NO WAY view his Dallas Gilley's crowd (myself excluded) as any type of indicator as to the attractiveness of his fans. There was Amazon Chick with the wife beater tank top and big fake boobs (apparently to offset the big ass she was carrying around behind her). There was Fake Bake Doris (she had to be at least 50). There was No Groove Gonzo (big honkin nose and no sense of rhythm - so sad). And the fourth member of this lovely quartet was Cowboy Rosa (big hat, big hair, big boobs). And let's not forget the motley crew of badly dressed, badly accessorized, and just plain badly females that were in the place. Ooh. I almost forgot BB (Big Blondie) who never lacked for dancing partners - all of whom were half her size. Literally. Half as tall as her and half as wide. Them little fellas like 'em BIG.

It all got off to a fun start when Gonzo was dancing (and that term is used very loosely herein) and then decided to scootchy across the floor to her compadres for a little sippy sip. Make that slippy slip. Busted her ass right there in front of us. We knew right then it was going to make for a very entertaining evening. Trent didn't stand a chance of keeping our attention. I wish I had kept count of the number of times one of these lovely ladies sat unexpectedly on the dancefloor but there was just no way to keep track of everything. I'm only human for cryin out loud. I have the right to laugh so hard I can't see anything.

I feel very strongly that I need to share with everyone (who didn't have the good fortune to see it for themselves) the actual dancing styles we observed. The most popular of course being the "I'm so good everybody will think I'm a titty dancer just without a pole." Oh for the love of Mike! Almost all of these ladies (large or ugly - it didn't matter) seemed to think that they could dance like Demi Moore in "Striptease." It was like a trainwreck - I couldn't not watch.

This blog is getting entirely too long. So I'm going to try to wrap it up. Big Daddy made a new best friend. Some guy decided he wanted to buddy up. First he was a horse breaker, then he was a tequila shot record holder, then he was a sargeant with the Dallas Police Department. Poor Big Daddy - if there's an idiot in a village, they always find him. He's like a retard magnet. Again, myself excluded.

After the concert, we bough Trent's cookbook (with some killer recipes) and I had my cd case for him to autograph. Seeing as how I was too inebriated to meet and greet with Trent the last time I saw him, I was determined to meet him and get my dadgum picture with him this time. There was some chick with little red horns on her head that kept taking people's cameras from them (Trent's self-appointed official photographer?) and she was trying to put those horns on everybody's head that got their picture taken with Trent. Needless to say when she attempted to put them on me, I almost bitch slapped her back. "Get those things away from me." Big Daddy said a curse word under his breath and Trent looked at her like she was some kind of loser (maybe because she IS). I was fixin to go western on her if she didn't back the **** off. She got the idea when I took my camera away from her and handed it to Big Daddy's new best retarded friend to take the picture.

Got my picture, reminded Trent not to ride horses into bars without rubber shoes, got my picture with the drummer (TOTALLY reminds me of Animal from FraggleRock when he plays), and we headed out.

BUT NOT before Amazon Chick and Cowboy Rosa tried to cop a feel off Big Daddy. He got more boob action right then than in the past year. Just kidding. But they totally molested him. I just smiled.

The ending kicker to the evening was when we were walking out. Amazon Chick, Gonzo, Doris, and Cowboy Rosa were all sitting in the back of the mini van near Trent's tour bus. How sad. Because you know what their intentions were. I was scared. For Trent. Poor fella.

I hope he made it on the bus in one piece and was able to lock the door fast enough.

YEE HAW! Next roadtrip: Kevin Fowler in Helotes!

HEY! You AWAKE?!

You know how kids will sometimes display a certain trait from an older family member? They'll have the same sense of humor or the same smile, etc?

The Bear has many sweet traits, some of which he inherited from my late Mom.  He also inherited one of her more annoying traits.

If he's awake, then ER'BODY better be awake.

I remember being in high school and working a part-time job that did not get me home until 10pm, some times later.  During the week, I still had to get up and be at school the next morning.  So when Saturday mornings rolled around, I really really really looked forward to sleeping in for a few hours.  When left completely alone with my bedroom door closed, I could easily stay asleep until 10 or 11 a.m.

Or so I thought.  I never really got the chance to see how late I could actually sleep.

Because my mother would inevitably come banging into my room at 7:30a.m. to start mowing the vacuum cleaner around my bed! Or she would be just outside my window with the weed whacker. One time she even started testing the smoke alarms with the main one outside my door in the hallway.  The woman barely allowed the sun to rise before she commenced her racket-inducing activities.

The Bear is completely like his Gomey in that respect. He is an early riser (if he sleeps til 8 a.m. it is noteworthy) and once he is awake, he is full bore AWAKE.  And any sleeping that continues after he wakes up will be stopped immediately!

Apparently I am not destined to be a late sleeper despite my numerous attempts.

Prepare for the End, y'all!

During all of the hullabaloo last week when the majority of Texas was expecting ice and snow, I kept telling Big Daddy that people in the northeast states were probably shaking their heads at us.  Our entire state (except the Panhandle which is used to snowy weather) was pretty much preparing for lock down once the expected 1 to 2 inches of snow finally fell.

The northeast has been dealing with multiple FEET of snow yet it barely slows down traffic, much less statewide business.

A friend posted the attached picture on facebook.  Apparently someone at TxDOT has a wicked sense of humor.  The sign was somewhere on I-35 between Austin and San Antonio.

Super Bowl XLV: A Retrospective

Since neither me nor Big Daddy had any vested interest in the winner of this year's Super Bowl, we spent much of the game/show critiquing the entertainment/commercials.  Although I will say that I was kinda leaning towards the Pack simply because I have some northern cousins who are serious Cheeseheads. I like that it showed Favre that they don't need his waffling ass to make it to the Big Show plus WIN IT.

But I've kinda been rooting for Big Ben, too - - he took a serious beating in the media just for feeling up some hoochie.  When a chick files a civil lawsuit before she calls the cops, she hasn't been assaulted. Period. I make this statement after having lived in the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex where I witnessed on more than one occasion how grasping females will do damn near anything to get their hands on (or at least get themselves in the line of sight of) a pro ball player. No wonder these huge guys had so many other unknown huge guys with them - the unfamous literally acted as a barrier to the famous. It was pathetic AND entertaining.

Anyways, for all the pre-grame anticipation, the commercials were so-so.  The one stand-out to me was the Darth/Volkswagen. LOVED IT. But maybe that's because I'm a mom to a 6 year old boy who loves his super hero/star wars/alien costumes.  He has a whole box in the bottom of his closet full of old Halloween costumes and some that we've just picked up off the clearance rack.  Just last night during the game he walked past us wearing his ninja costume with gloves and Broncos helmet.  We later found out he was watching "Buzz Lightyear's Star Command" and he was being Buzz.  If he's not jumping off the bed, he's jumping off the coffee table.  If he's not running through the house, he's dragging a 3 foot horse from "corral" to "corral."  And when he's not doing that, he's pooting in the dog's face.  And I thought Joan Rivers as the new Go Daddy Girl was hilarious. And the teacher driving the Camaro? Pretty awesome.

As for the halftime show, while Big Daddy was obviously impressed with Fergie and her dancing skills but complained about the music, I actually enoyed the TRON halftime show. And, being a big fan of Slash's mad guitar skrills, I was happily surprised to see him make an appearance. Fergie's attempt at a GNL classic? Really wish she wouldn't have done that.  I mean, we're all pretty much disenchanted with Axel Rose but there are limits to our contempt. And what the frak was on Will.i.am.'s head? Whatever it was you know it stank afterwards. Ewww.

Supermarket Aisle Rage

I have moaned and complained about the following issue almost every time I go to the grocery store that yesterday after my weekly grocery trip, Big Daddy said: "Blog about it."

Because we all know how blogging ultimately leads to resolution.

Here's my bitch: the majority of people who walk through the doors of our local food mart either leave all their manners at home or they never had any to begin with. As for the old folks, they apparently just used all theirs up because they are clean out, too.

If they're not parking their cart on one side of the aisle while standing in front of the shelves on the OTHER side of the aisle (thereby blocking the whole width of the aisle), then they are riding your ankles with their cart because you are shopping at a slower rate of speed than they feel is necessary.  Uh, sorry.  I didn't realize I'd signed up for Survivor: H.E.B.

Yesterday while I was in the frozen food section, I opened a freezer door to grab a couple of bags of broccoli and carrots. While I was BENT OVER some old lady pushes her cart right up against my ass so that once I stood up, I COULD NOT close the door without her backing up.  I literally turned in a circle to face her and gave her look like, "WTH? Do you mind?"  She ROLLED her eyes, huffed a breath, then pulled her cart back so I could get out and close the freezer door.

Un-freaking-believable. And those old shits expect us to treat them with respect.

I'll do the Parenting, You do the Teaching

Some folks out there may disagree with me on this particular issue but hey! I'm used to being disagreed with. Whatever.

I have been lucky to have close friends and family members who are teachers.  All of them have made the same comment at one time or another: "It is not my job to raise these kids!  It is my job to TEACH them."

I couldn't agree more.

Okay, so now we have a Bear in the first grade.  He is a kid who likes to socialize and participate in extracurricular activities.  We do t-ball, soccer, and karate (but not all at the same time of year) so he keeps pretty busy after school hours.

Every single school day except Fridays, he comes home with a folder full of "homework."  I don't have a single thing against homework.  I think it is very important that we as parents be involved in what he is learning and interact with him on schoolwork.  But here is where my aggravation comes in. This homework takes us upwards of 45 minutes to an hour to complete every school night.  HE'S IN FIRST GRADE!

If it only took us 15-20 minutes every evening to go through it and practice his words and spellings and math sums, I would not have a problem at all.  But on a regular day after I get off work and pick him up at daycare, we have karate/soccer/or baseball then we get home to eat dinner, clean up the kitchen, get his bath, and then time for him to go to bed at 8:30.  In the middle of all this, we might have 1/2 an hour to spend on homework.  It makes me mad because I did not sign up for homeschooling but the amount of homework they send home every day is ridiculous.

And I would really hate to do this as a single parent with more than one kid. Maybe even with more than one job.

I am not a bad parent because I want my kid to have some time to wind down and play for a little while when he gets home from his long day.  He likes to draw pictures A LOT and he likes his super heroes and his guitar.  I know his daily schedule at school.  From 7:50am until 3:30pm they get a total of 45 minutes to eat their lunch and play on the playground (weather permitting).  If the weather is crappy, they go back to their classrooms and find something to do (so long as it is not loud and 22 six-year-olds are unable to work off some physical energy).  During all those daylight hours at THE INSTITUTION OF LEARNING, I expect him to be learning and being taught by *GASP* his TEACHERS!

Because *ALSO GASP* they expect me to be parenting him properly at home so that he is not a disruption to their classrooms.

I'm doing my job but I really wish I could do less of their job.

Finally! Some Cold Weather I Can Get On Board With!

We hit 14° last night and so far today we are sitting at a balmy 21°.

I LOVE THIS COLD WEATHER!!!

I just wish it had some snow with it.  I loves me a couple of feet of frozen precipitation.  My truck on the other hand.  Not so much.  I left work yesterday and cranked it up.  I knew it was close to 19° or 20° so when the digital thermostat registered 25° I figured it would drop once the truck had been running for a few minutes.

Nope.

Twenty minutes to get home and it stayed right there at 25°.  Apparently the truck was protesting the cold weather and was not going to register one more single degree.

But after a nice cozy night in the garage, the truck stat showed 17° this morning on the way in.  I'm still wearing my gloves as I type this post.  ;o)

Flashback: City Trippin'

Even though the Trent Willmon concert and our excursion to Gilley's Dallas was the purpose of the trip to town this past weekend, there were other highlights to our visit to the big city.

First, seeing as how we live down a dirt road surrounded by dirt and pretty much dirt is big part of our lifestyle, I really wanted to get the truck detailed. The biggest reason being that I could pay somebody to do it while I kicked back and ate me some Krispy Kremes. Yes, I said Krispy Kremes.

We pull up to a fairly well known establishment and I tell the greeter guy, "Hey greeter guy, give me the daily special." Okay, here's where me and greeter guy apparently have a separating of the minds. While I'm thinking $24.99 daily special (taking into consideration I'm driving a truck and there's a $5 surcharge for trucks - whatever), greeter guy is thinking a little bigger in the money department.

First he starts of his spiel with, "Well, you got alot of mud on the nerf bars and undercarriage and then I see you have alot alot alot of bugs up front and with that grill guard that's gonna take some time and the auto wash ain't gonna be able to get all that so what we're talkin about here is a hand pre-wash and then run it through the auto wash and then we'll need to probably shampoo those floor mats cause you got alot alot alot of dirt and stuff in there but I'll knock off the shampoo charge if you want to go ahead and do the hand wash."

Did I just buy a condo in Miami? I'm not sure what just happened but okay - hook me up, greeter guy!

He starts writing up the Wash Order Request, Big Daddy unloads the kid and kid stuff and magazines and newspapers, while I unload myself and the Krispy Kremes.

Greeter Guy hands my ticket and quite honestly, I didn't want to look at it. Just go in and pay it - rip it off like a bandaid. Cashier Girl rings me up: $75 BUCKS!!! Okay, so rip a bandaid off a bullet wound. Jeez loooo-weez!

Of course, Big Daddy is about to stroke out. $75 DOLLARS?!!!?? Are you totally and completely SH***ING ME!!??? So I start trying to negotiate with him - "Honey, this truck never gets washed and when we lived in the city we spent $30 a week getting our cars detailed. It's not like we're going to spend a total of $100 washing this truck all year. Chill out."

So while he's getting his blood pressure back under control our little one is enjoying watching the cars and trucks go through the auto wash. Cars and trucks and cars and trucks. But not our truck. So where is it?

104 MINUTES LATER . . . they bring our truck back around. It looks good. Not $75 great, but good enough. Then I get in. There is dust on the dash. What the ****? $75 FLIPPIN DOLLARS AND I STILL HAVE DUST?? ARE YOU SERIOUSLY KIDDING ME??!!?

Smirkily Big Daddy says, "Yeah, and did you see the wheels?"

But you know what? I'm okay with it. You know why?

Because my kid left a big fat green booger on their waiting room floor.

Karma. It'll bite you every time.

i-Hilarity

I don't have an iPhone but my boss does so whenever I update his calendar it jacks with me.  Here's a link to a pretty funny site of autocorrect calamity.

Enjoy!

Intolerant Much?

I find myself amused much of the time and without comprehension some of the time.

Even though I am relatively conservative, I still have a healthy respect for the old motto "Live and let live."  Which, for some odd reason, radical liberals tend to think they OWN that motto and the rest of us are barred from using.

I hop around and visit many blogs, most of which are authored by progressive/liberal type individuals.  Why do I do this?  Because they are funny, intelligent, and most times lovely people.  I some times comment on their blogs and it comes as no surprise that more than once we have the "let's agree to disagree" exchange.  I don't comment on their blogs to criticize or elicit an argument or war of words, I just comment because the subject is interesting and, OH MY GAWD, I have an opinion to share.

But along with this blog-traveling comes the inevitable frothing at the mouth rabid anti-conservative person who sees it as their one purpose in life to rant about me and my beliefs as if what they say will have any bearing whatsoever on my life or my views.  Sometimes the outright hatred for me by someone who has never even met me is just straight up incomprehensible.

I'm kinda feeling like Sarah Palin.  Millions of people who have never met her hate her guts.  All she did was have a different opinion.

Go figure.

Flashback: Trent Willmon @ Blue Duck's Ice House

Big plans for the weekend - we are heading to Dallas to see Trent Willmon at Gilley's. Now, we wouldn't be making this trip if things hadn't gone bad the last time we went to see Trent in Llano.

I made the mistake of inviting Ragina and Tammy to join us. At first, things were going good just enjoying the opening act, some cold beverages, and chips with some killer chipotle salsa.

Then things start heading south when Trent comes in. First of all, some idiot sent him into the bar on a horse without rubber shoes. Poor horse was slippin and slidin all over the floor. Once they got the horse up and out, we started commencin to continue to have a good time. After I blubbered to about eight different people "why ain't he wearin' rubber shoes?!!" - - it was obvious that I had reached my limit.

But wait. It gets better. Tammy comes up with the great idea to go drink something out of the trunk of her car. If my brain had been working anywhere near half capacity I would have told her she crazy. But nooooooooooo, she pops the trunk and I'm saying, "Gimme!"

I'm not entirely sure what gorilla piss tastes like but I bet cash money it tastes something like what she had in the trunk of her car.

Needless to say, I got belligerent and obnoxious so my wonderful husband loaded me up and hauled my butt home. Here's where I apologize to him for the verbal assault he took for 34 miles. I love you honey. It won't happen again.

Tammy, he says I can't hang out wit you NO MO.

C'mon, maaaaaaaaaaaaannn!

So I've spent the past week spiffying up the blog and updating and such.  Because I feel a real need to accomplish something since I have had no luck at all on another accomplishment I set out on.

It is really frustrating me because when I set a goal for myself, I usually obtain it because I am willing to work for it.  And the times when it doesn't come to fruition, there are usually very valid reasons and I come to terms with it.

But this one goal I have set for myself I have worked hard for and I have done all I can do but nothing.

All because I'm not buddies with the "right" people.

So True!

Y'all so kRAAAA-zzeeeeeeeeeee!

I can't help it.

I giggle every time I see a liberal pee their pants about Sarah Palin.

All they have to do is see a picture of her or hear her name.

LOL!  it is so frakking hilarious.

Eeeee Eeeeee Eeeeee Eeeeeee!

Caught a little bit o' The Bachelor last night.  I see that kRaZy Michelle is still hanging in there.  You remember her: "It's my birthday. I gotta rose. It's my birthday. I gotta rose. It's. My. Birthday."  I gotta tell ya . . . the producers have to have something to do with the whackos making it through so many rounds.

But.

The crazy makes for good ratings cuz you know how the television audience lurves them some KrAZy!

Weekends ROCK!

Had a great day with the family and cousins today.  Had a delicious lunch at a popular burger joint and then hauled all the kids to an inflatable playground.  They ran around and wore themselves smooth out. Nice.  Maybe Momma will be able to get to sleep in late tomorrow . . .