Thoughts That Keep Me Awake (At Least Until I Write Them Down)

...just because

2009-04-07T15:30:00.001-07:00

Every time I see one of those trucks on the road that have big letters CFI painted on the side, it makes me wish I could paint the word "care" behind it.

Doggies

2009-03-27T17:38:00.000-07:00

Why can't dogs entertain themselves? Well... at least in a way that I approve of? Sure they can dig in the trash and chew on something for an entertainment, but I do not approve of those things. Why do they follow me around everywhere I go? And why are they so darned optimistic? I can go into the kitchen a hundred times (which I do every day) and they will follow me in there every single time in hopes that I will give them something out of the fridge.

Howdy

2008-03-06T21:46:00.000-08:00

I hope this works, I don't know what I'm doing. I swiped my son's camera after Mallory used it this past weekend. She had to interview her grandpa and grandma about WWII for a history project. So I've uploaded videos to YouTube now, can you believe it?

2007-09-09T20:05:00.000-07:00

Hey, I’m halfway to realizing my dream of becoming an eccentric millionaire. No, I don’t have $500,000.00. I just meant that I’ve got the eccentric part down pat.

I'm only trying to help...

2007-09-06T23:24:00.000-07:00

I wonder if my neighbors appreciate all the trouble I go through to keep my lawn looking so shabby. I only do this for their benefit. Just being near mine will always make their yards look great.

Well, truthfully, it’s not that much trouble, but it’s the thought that counts.

Fair warning. But was there ever any real hope for the victim's escape?

2007-09-03T11:36:00.000-07:00

As I passed by the kitchen, I heard Mitch speaking. His tone of voice sounded quite menacing, yet the volume was so low I couldn't quite make out the words.

"What was that, sweetie?" I asked my son to repeat himself.

"I said: 'You're goin' DOWN!'"

"Oh, OK."

(Don't worry, he wasn't talking to me. He was threatening the chocolate cake.)

What's Behind Door Number 2

2007-04-18T17:58:00.000-07:00

Ok imagine a bathroom with 5 stalls. You're comfortably seated in the first stall minding your own "business" when a woman enters the restroom, goes directly into the second stall, and takes a big poo.

Now it happens that I was the person in that first stall. And I thought to myself, "How rude! If I were her, I would have gone down to the last stall to do that!"

Being the kind of person who likes confirmation that I'm always right, I asked an authority later that evening: "Mallory, If you had to poo at school, and someone was already in the first stall, would you sit RIGHT BY THEM to do that, or go down to a stall as far away as you could?"

She answered that she would, indeed choose the stall inches away from the first occupant.

"WHY?" I asked, horrified – in my best "where did I go wrong in raising you?" tone of voice.

"Because if someone else walked in, they wouldn't know which one of us was taking the poo."

2007-02-16T18:52:00.000-08:00

Back when I was married, my husband made a rude comment about the scent of my hair. I had just been to the hair salon for my annual haircut. The stylist had used some lovely smelling Aveda shampoo and conditioner. I loved the aroma, and whipped my hair around and remarked at least 150 times about how wonderful it was, "Doesn't it smell good? SMELL it!"

"It smells like dog shampoo", was his reply.

So knowing he didn't like it, I immediately bought a gallon of each: shampoo and conditioner. And made sure to wash my hair with them EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

Today is the one year anniversary of our divorce, and it just occurred to me to wonder... Did he mean it smelled like dog shampoo BEFORE, or AFTER it touched wet dog fur?

Memory Tip

2007-02-07T21:44:00.000-08:00

I thought of a great idea for my new camera phone - other than the 32 pictures of the cats that I've already taken. See, I have a really hard time remembering what size home air filter to buy. I always think I can remember, until I actually get to the store and get dizzy from all the choices. Some people might suggest that I write it down. Jotting down the numbers on a scrap of paper is good for one-time use only - assuming I head immediately for the store with it stapled to my shirt. Anyway, I only ever think about buying a new air filter on special occasions - like when I'm totally bored and feel like walking down every aisle of the grocery store or Wal-Mart. So see, that doesn't happen very often. I actually think I'm purty durn smart to come up with this idea. I don't care if someone has already thought of it, I'm still smart, I tell you! Now this would have come in really handy back when I had a husband that was ~~nagged~~ kind enough to run to the store and fetch feminine hygiene products for me. Apparently the choices down that aisle are much more overwhelming than the air filter section!

Wonder How This Ended???

2006-12-23T04:23:00.000-08:00

Good Lord, Mother!

Put the camera down!

It's 1962, there is no "America's Funniest Videos" - come help me before I pull this down on my head!

Don't Fan it MY Way...

2006-12-20T01:50:00.000-08:00

Mom? Do cats...? Whew! Never mind! I found out the answer!

Scanner Fun Part 2 (OK I'll Stop For Now Before I Get Carried Away)

2006-12-18T19:43:00.000-08:00

I don't want to hear any more of this "boys rule, girls drool BS. And stop looking at the TV when I'm talking to you! If you boys want to wake up alive in the morning you will let me in that stupid tent!"

Fun With The Scanner

2006-12-18T19:00:00.000-08:00

"Mom, I love the Ghostbuster tape you bought me, I've watched it 14,000 times. So you're telling me that if I suck up all that gray stuff with this Proton Pack I'll catch Slimer?"

"Yeah right, Mom! I think you're blowing smoke up my @$$ - this will never work without the Ecto Goggles!"

It's All or Nothin'

2006-12-05T20:36:00.000-08:00

Friend: "Remember when you used to have that stretching routine?"

Me: "Oh yeah, I was so faithful and diligent about it! Then suddenly dropped it like I've done everything else my whole life.

Friend: "Well, at least you're consistent."

BabyGirl Emailed A Picture To Me From Her Cell Phone

2006-07-17T16:09:00.000-07:00

The good news is, I really like my daughter's new hair color. The bad news is, I am not 100% sure that is her. That does look like the inside of my car, so the best news is that she had her seatbelt on.

2006-07-15T06:40:00.000-07:00

My friends and I were all up late one night sharing childbirth horror stories with the youngest woman in our group. Well, heck she was expecting her first baby; I think that is an open invitation to discuss episiotomies and fourteen day labors. But I got what I deserved. I went to bed thinking of epidurals, woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't feel anything from my waist down.

Growing up Ivy

2006-07-12T19:35:00.000-07:00

I wasn't a very good babysitter as a teenager. Oh, I wasn't terrible, I mean I didn't eat up all the food, or have a boyfriend (snort, ha ha!) over, or spend the whole night on the phone. No, my biggest problem was my inability to stay awake if the kids weren't. One father while driving me home late at night asked me if I had fallen asleep. This was back before hidden cameras were common, so I was pretty sure he couldn't prove it. But something told me I'd better tell the truth and I did. Then he said, “I was just wondering because you have an imprint of the TV Guide on your face”.

Overheard On The Elevator:

2006-07-10T19:09:00.000-07:00

"Hey, maybe I'll win the lottery and I can take a trip to Europe."

"Aaacckkk! Why in the world would anyone want to go to Europe? I'd much rather go to Italy!"

Puzzling Observation

2006-07-09T20:33:00.000-07:00

I was sitting on the bus, headed to work, busy with my Penny Press Variety puzzle book. I love the laddergrams and the anacrostics, but was busy at the time working on some good old cryptograms.

When the bus arrived downtown, the lady sitting next to me said, "Excuse me...." It was fairly obvious that she was impressed with my great intelligence and was very likely about to ask me how in the world I could do those puzzles so fast, and in pen!!!

And then she continued: "I thought you should know that your shirt is inside-out."

First I Was Afraid; I Was Petrified; Kept Thinking I Could Never Live if You Said, "Let Me Drive"....

2006-07-03T11:38:00.000-07:00

Current on life insurance policy - CHECK
Current on car insurance premiums - CHECK
Passenger side airbag activated - CHECK
Wearing clean underwear - CHECK

OK, I'm ready to start teaching my daughter to drive.

Happy Birthday!

2006-05-27T23:33:00.000-07:00

To my darling daughter Mallory, who is now 15; and to my friend Peter, who is a tad older than Mallory.

Where Has All My Money Gone? It Ran Away With My Memory

2006-05-13T20:38:00.000-07:00

My billfold has this strange Bermuda Triangle-like phenomenon going on. For example, sometimes I might go to pay for something and then ask myself, "Where's that 10 dollar bill that was in here?" After applying intense interrogation methods to determine the guilty party (I grill each of the usual suspects one by one: my son, my daughter, then the dog) - I try to recall every item I have purchased since the money was last seen. This is no easy task. When I start recalling different events, I keep distracting myself, interrupting myself, and just generally getting so sidetracked in my thoughts that I don't even remember what I was trying to bring to mind. But really, I guess that’s a whole other story…

You Can Make Your Son Help Remodel The Bathroom, But You Can't Prevent Him From Mocking Your Attempts To Document The Progress With A Camera

2006-05-05T14:39:00.000-07:00

Hey, 14

2006-05-04T13:56:00.000-07:00

I wonder if other people have a favorite substitute number that they use, like I do, for situations where the real number is not known, or is just not important. Mine is 14. Not necessarily my favorite number in the world (that’s number 8), but it’s my catch-all, works in every situation number. For example, I may say that I tried to call you fourteen times last night. The number can change depending on the degree of the exaggeration, like I may say that the water bill was fourteen hundred dollars this month, or that I have asked the kids to pick up their wet towels fourteen thousand times, or that I've consumed fourteen billion calories today. But in order for it to qualify as a favorite substitute number, the base number has to always stay the same.

TV Commercials That Get on My Nerves

2006-04-26T20:10:00.000-07:00

The Citibank commercial where the guy won't even bother to hang up the phone when his food is catches on fire. He tries to move the burning pan off the stove with a broom. What a dork. Get a cordless phone or hang up, doofus. (but I do like the commercial where the guy is on the train and has to repeat his password: "BIG BOY" louder)

Lamisil. When that cartoon creature "Digger" (pictured above) crawls under the big toenail, I get up and leave the room.

The commercial where they try to get you to call in for a great brochure to go to a school that teaches you how to make great brochures... a wonderful new career. Then they introduce the operator who will take your calls. If it's such a great career, why isn't she doing it, instead of answering the phone?

And finally, any commercial that has the words "ask your doctor about..." without giving me a hint of what it's for.

Slurpee or Icee

2006-04-19T19:51:00.000-07:00

OK, the other day I passed by Mrs. Field's and ordered an Icee. How long have they been selling Icees? I have no clue. But one day I was passing by there and I heard some teenage girls squeal, "Icees!". (I had never noticed.) So of course it stuck in my mind and eventually I had to buy one. It brought back great childhood memories. But now I can't remember which one it was that I used to get as a kid: Slurpee, or Icee? I remember walking down the road with my sister and we would buy one and drink it on the way home. One day we drank ours, PLUS the one that was meant for our baby brother. Hey - better to drink it and bring him NOTHING than bring him home one that was sadly melted...

It's just bugging me to know which one I got as a kid. I'm 44 years old now, that was when I lived in Louisiana, so the oldest I could have been was 8 because we moved from there after my second grade year. I guess I could research them both and see which product has been around as long as dirt... er.... I mean me. I also could just say "screw it, who cares which one it was?" - but that's just not my style.

It's Not Even My Birthday!

2006-03-27T19:40:00.000-08:00

Look what my DF (dear friend) got me, "just because!"

This should keep me occupied for a long time.

I Met "aka Monty"!

2006-03-25T22:31:00.000-08:00

I met Monty, the famous blogger from The Daily Bitch! And I even got her autograph! Well, technically, I stole her driver's license from her purse while she was in the restroom, but hey - it has her signature on it! And it would have come in real handy if I'd been pulled over on the way home.

Sure was a fun night, and don't believe a word Jules says about it!

OK, I'm off to bed. I know, I'm a lightweight, but I had to get home and get to sleep.

Before and After

2006-03-24T17:34:00.000-08:00

My $20 garage-sale find. My $20 billion vacation project.

2006-03-21T18:00:00.000-08:00

Almost exactly two years ago, I was in a fund-raising event called the MS150. It is an annual event, and takes place in many different cities. This particular event (at that time) was a bicycle ride from Dallas, up across the Red River into Oklahoma for a grand total of 150 miles. It took place on a Saturday and Sunday in May with the option to camp at a state park in Oklahoma. All for the good cause of raising money for Multiple Sclerosis. This was a great experience, and I personally raised about $4,000 for the charity. This particular year that I participated set a record for having the worst weather EVER for this event. People WAY fitter, and much more serious about cycling dropped out after the first 20 miles, since they were extremely cold. Hey, my body fat came in quite handy that day. Because I've been too ~~lazy~~ busy to write the last week or so, I have copied and pasted a letter that I wrote to the people that I had been hitting up for money before the event.

Dear Friends,

I just wanted to let you know that I survived my weekend bicycle ride, and I want to tell you about the experience.

What's the big idea calling this the MS150 ride? It should be called the MS160.3 ride - that's what my odometer said after the 2 day journey!

Day 1: My husband booted me and my gear out of his warm, dry pickup in Plano at 6 a.m. Saturday morning. It was very cold, raining, and the wind was strong and coming from the north. I rode for many miles in the rain, squinting from it splashing in my eyes and my feet, legs, and gloves were soaking wet. Even after the rain stopped it took a very long time for my shoes to go from sloshing to just damp. The lunch stop was in an elementary school where we were served Subway sandwiches. I overheard many people saying they were going to "sag" to the end. In fact, I guess that the organizers expected so many people to catch a ride from there, that they had about 3 school buses ready to haul people away. I was really beginning to worry when I heard several people that looked in much better shape than me say that they were quitting for the day. Many of them talked about the upcoming hills and being so cold. They were tired of fighting the wind. One of the volunteer motorcyclists said she'd been helping with this event for 18 years and that this was the worst year ever as far as weather was concerned. Every "sag wagon" that had passed me up to this point had a "full" sign in the window. I couldn't have quit if I'd wanted to. The MS150 organization's website called this ride a "2-day party on wheels" I felt like Private Benjamin when she showed up for boot camp and pulled her drill sergeant aside to explain "this is not the Army I signed up for." I signed up for the bike ride with the nice, warm weather where I can work on my tan. I signed up for the bike ride where the rest stops have Lazy-Boy recliners and good looking guys rubbing my legs while someone refills my water bottle with a refreshing margarita. That is MY idea of a 2-day party on wheels. OK, enough whining, I decided that I did not want to quit, I was determined to finish the miles on this first day. But I had this big fear of being alone out there on the country roads, lost for days. With my poor sense of direction and wandering mind, it really was a valid concern. The sun made its first appearance when I was about 5 miles from the first day's finish line. At least I finally had my shadow to keep me company! After crossing the finish line, they served me a big plate of hot spaghetti. Even though I'd eaten at every single rest stop along the way and wasn't a bit hungry, it was so appealing to have warm food. My husband and daughter whisked me away to a hotel for the night (CAMP and TENT are four letter words as far as I'm concerned).

Day 2: Beautiful sunshine right from the start. It was quite an experience when they closed off the bridge so that all 1,900 of us cyclists could cross the Red River at the same time. The weather was nice, the scenery was awesome, but Susan was slow. At lunch on the second day, some of my teammates were patiently waiting for me to show up. When I finally arrived, one of them said, "Susan, I was worried about you!" I said, "You should be! I'm going so slow the buzzards are circling over me. I just hope I have the strength to fight them off!" On one hill I hit an all time low of 3 miles per hour - I didn't even know you could keep a bike upright at that speed. I'll never forget the 75 year old woman who smiled sweetly as she passed me and soon became just a dot on the horizon. Speaking of being left in the dustÂfor safety and courtesy, riders always announced "ON YOUR LEFT" as they passed. After awhile I felt like snarling at each one, "Yeah? Who ISN'T?" A teammate said that if I was so tired of hearing "on your left" I should crowd that side so they'd be forced to pass me on the right. I had a flat tire 16 miles from the finish. It was bound to happen as I had bragged earlier in the ride that I'd NEVER had a flat tire. On the plus side, five men stopped to help me! Oh wait, let's be honest. ONE man stopped to help me, then four of HIS teammates thought HE was down, so they stopped to help HIM! It took a mechanic from the roving Richardson Bike Mart van, though, to help me out as I needed a new inner tube and a new tire. He very kindly oiled my chain and adjusted a brake for me, too while he was there. I finally crossed the finish line - greeted by cheers from the volunteers and some great 70's music.

I am only kidding around, folks, I'm not really as negative as I may sound. I'm just trying to be funny. The truth is that I had a wonderful time - even on Saturday. It was exciting to be in that crowd of people, it was fun to be a part of the big event. And I know that I am very fortunate to be healthy enough to complete a trip like this. I have to be honest and tell you that I originally chose this event because it would be physically challenging for me. Only after I signed up for it did I start to realize how many people I knew that have Multiple Sclerosis or have family or friends affected by this disease. I really thought people would donate money for ME, because they are: a) proud of me, b) friends with me, or c) afraid I'll beat them up. Turns out it was d) none of the above. I received the most money from people who donated for the right reason - because the money goes to help people with Multiple Sclerosis. And these are the people I thought of every time I struggled up a hill.

Things I learned:

o Volunteers are very special people.
o Hills are good, because there's a side of them that allows you to rest, catch your breath and really enjoy the view.
o Falling off your bike is not quite as embarrassing as I'd imagined it would be (but just as painful as I expected).

For those of you who like numbers, here are a few statistics:

o The first day time from start to finish: 11 hours. Distance covered: 95+ miles.
o The second day time from start to finish: 8.5 hours. Distance covered: 65+ miles.
o Number of rest stops serving refreshments: 11. Pounds gained: 3.

2006-03-15T19:19:00.000-08:00

My "memory foam" slippers have amnesia.

WWPD*

2006-03-15T17:45:00.000-08:00

*What Would Poopie Do?

I am on vacation this week, and since my daughter is away on Spring Break, I thought I'd play around the house. I started off the week by painting my front door on Monday. Ah, but first I had to strip off the old dark, dark brown color that has been there since the beginning of time. I didn't realize there were so many decorative grooves in that darn door. With eight panels on it, and all kinds of grooves in each one, it was quite a chore. But fun. And I broke down and bought myself a "Mouse". My sander may not be as good as hers but it sure is fun. Sad thing is that the bottom of it reminds me of an iron. ***shudder***

Now the door is painted with a lovely shade called "Mediterranean Sun."

Anyway, on to more fun. I have also changed out a shower head, started stripping my vanity, and installed one of those soap dispensers in my kitchen sink. It's so cool! I always wanted to put something there, a sprayer or something, and then I saw this at Lowe's (where I've spent most of my vacation.)

The vanity is taking quite a bit longer than I thought it would, but it's still a lot of fun to work on. I have my daughter's radio plugged in outside, listening to KISS-FM. You know how they (or any top 40 station) play the same songs over, and over again? It cracks me up because while I'm out there stripping paint and working so hard on it, this song keeps coming on called, "I'm in Love With a Stripper." Yep, they're playin' my song!

I'm having too much fun here, I honestly do not want to go back to work. Ever. But I don't see that I have much choice, so darn.

Oh well, at least I have a few more days to goof around here.

&*^%$@'n DPS

2006-03-12T15:51:00.000-08:00

Screw you Texas Department of Public Safety.

As of 3/10/06 10:59 p.m. I had to give up bragging rights of "I haven't had a speeding ticket since I was nineteen years old!"

Screw you, you little mean officer that gave me the ticket.

I'm not saying I didn't deserve it, but she didn't have to be so rude about it. I was nice and polite to her after she pulled me over. She kept saying ma'am to me like she wanted it to seem like she was being being respectful, but really she was a total bitch. The way she grilled me about where I was going and why? (home, cuz I'm tired) and where had I been and why? (to Oklahoma to drop off my daughter at a friend's house) geez - I so wanted to say on a drug run, but I could tell she had no sense of humor. But you'd think I had been, the way she asked me those questions. What's with all the small talk anyway? Did she think that if I had been up to no good, I'd just spill my guts and tell her?

She said I was going 73. I politely said to her, "No, I was going 70." She said that the speed limit is 65. No, the speed limit was 70, I know. I'd seen the sign. People, did you know that the speed limit is 65 at night??? And apparently it's not just a suggestion. I guess I have seen those signs, but the last time I remember actually reading the sign below the speed limit, it was meant for trucks. Really, I'm not kidding, I think the sign below the speed limit used to be a separate speed limit for trucks. OK, maybe I imagined that, or maybe it was 20 years ago. Anyway, I guess I have to admit that I've been ignoring the black 65 mph sign posted below the white 70 mph sign. So I was speeding. But I was going 70, dammit, not 73 like she said!

In no way was I rude, or ~~argumentative~~ nasty. Sgt. Shrimp (most 10 year olds are bigger than this woman - so OK, I'm jealous) came back from her car with my license and my insurance paper and a citation! I said, "Can't I just have a warning, please? I was barely over!" "Eight over", she snapped. (FIVE!)

I should get some good-girl points. Points that would reduce the number of "miles over" the speed limit. One point for each of the following:

1 - I was trying to follow the speed limit, that's how I know I was going 70 because I looked at the speedometer so often to check. So one point for trying.

2 - I had my seatbelt on. Like a good and responsible law-abiding citizen. So one point for the seatbelt and my safety consciousness.

3 - I not only carry auto insurance (unlike half of Texas drivers*) but I had proof of it!

4 - I was not drinking, nor had I been for days! (But only because I had been sick with an unconfirmed case of bird-flu.)

5 - I was not chatting on my cell phone. (Well, not when she caught me speeding, but once or twice before, and immediately after.)

I could stop right here, because I KNOW I was going 70, not 73, but she's got the guns. Real and radar, and who can argue with them? So... I'll keep knocking off "miles over" by racking up three more points:

6 - Current drivers' license. (well, except for an outdated picture) Seriously, I know people who never bother to change the address on their license. Mine has my current address, it is not expired, and it has a way-cool "M" in the class meaning I can legally drive a motorcycle. Which has nothing to do with speeding, I know, but I think proves my case that I have a tendency to ~~always~~ often follow the law!

7 - Current tags! One more point, see?

8 - Current inspection sticker. Further proof that I am a law-abiding citizen who deserved a warning, not a citation!!!!

Now we're right back down to 65 mph (62, dammit!) so you can take your ticket back, please!

*a statistic I pulled out of ~~my ass~~ thin air, I cannot vouch for its accuracy.

I Been a Berry Sick Girl

2006-03-09T14:08:00.000-08:00

I have been home alone for three days. Sick for the whole time. I hate it when I have to spend too much time alone with myself; I'm not very good company. I'm always nagging, criticizing, bringing up the past, and just generally putting myself down nonstop. Gosh, what is my problem? What have I got against me? I mean what have I ever done to myself to deserve being treated this way?

I'm fine. Really. Just recovering from bird-flu. Of course I am a big hypochondriac and didn't have any idea what I was going to be sick from next until TSB put that suggestion into my comments. Thanks, dear.

Any other suggestions? I'm feeling much better now.

Guys, Listen Up...

2006-03-06T17:10:00.000-08:00

Gentlemen, let me explain something to you. If you work in a cubicle, you need to understand something about those walls. Cubicle walls were designed so that I won't have to look across my desk and see your finger up your big, hairy nose. And they also come in handy so you won't have to see me picking the wedgie from my butt-crack. (Another example of me stating the obvious; where else would a wedgie be?) Cubicle walls are there to fool you into thinking you have a teensy bit of privacy. But hey, even I know that a girl can't always reach up under her blouse to make a wardrobe adjustment without a tall neighbor peeking over, or a gawker walking by the opening to see in the "door". So they're not even perfect for blocking out visuals. Now here's where the lesson comes in, so please... pay attention, guys. Cubicle walls are not soundproof. I can hear every breath you take, every fart you make. Seriously. Cut out the farts. Especially the ones where you let out a little happy sigh afterwards. Cut out the farts or someone will have to die. Don't try hiding it with a fake cough. Or following it by making a loud raspberry noise with your mouth trying to fool me into thinking that was the first sound I heard, too. I'm serious. Stop farting at work. Walk down the hall to the restroom, or hold it in all day like I do.

2006-03-05T05:56:00.000-08:00

Thinking about how easy it was to pick up and hold that little bird reminded me of some other instances with picking up animals. With small animals, I have a tendency to scoop them up into my arms, and think later. Sometimes that works out OK, and sometimes it doesn't.

A couple of years ago, I was jogging along a path on the Rowlett Creek Preserve. These paths are mostly meant for off-road bicyclists, but if you're careful to watch out, you can also walk or run on the trails. I was jogging along one time when I saw a rabbit by the path. I expected it to take off and run away, but it didn't. I went by it, with it sitting literally inches from the path. So I walked back to it and bent down and scooped it up. Only after I picked it up, held it to my chest and started petting it did I think about how crazy that was. It could have scratched me and bitten me. This wasn't somebody's pet, it was a plain brown bunny like you see out in the wild. I didn't notice any injuries, it wasn't listless like it was sick or dying. But I assumed it had to be, or why else would it let me hold it? I carried that thing, petting it for about 15-20 minutes as I walked along the trail. Even a sick or dying animal will struggle and fight some, I thought, but this one didn't. As I neared the parking lot, I realized I couldn't take it home with me, so I turned around to take it back to where I found it. When I set the bunny down, he hopped away like there wasn't a thing in the world wrong with him.

The animals I mostly try to hold, are of course cats. Sometimes with good results, like the time my daughter and her girlfriend were struggling with a crazy kitten that wanted to escape them in fear. I took the cat from the little girl and it was suddenly calm. The girls called me the cat whisperer.

But I can recall a couple more instances when that didn't work out so well for me. One was when I went outside several years ago and discovered that kittens had been born in our boat. Kittens are cute, so I was thrilled. I reached down inside the boat and grabbed one to pull it out. It took several bloody seconds for my hands to receive the "Let GO!" message that my brain was trying to send them.

Another incident not only didn't turn out well, but I'd actually been warned beforehand. It was a beautiful sunny day, I was visiting my brother. He lived north of Houston on some heavily wooded acreage. The cat he fed was lying on the picnic table, enjoying a nap in the sun. Notice I called her the "cat he fed" not "his cat". Because even though this cat would come up to the house to eat every night, it was a little on the wild side. I sat down at the table and petted the cat and she was purring like mad. My brother walked by me on his way into the house and said, "Don't pick up that cat." I said OK then continued to pet the cat. Even got my hairbrush out of the car and brushed it. The cat was enjoying this very much. She would purr, rub up against me, and just want more. I finally couldn't stand it any more, I had to pick her up. I really wasn't trying to be defiant. I wasn't going to try to prove to my brother it could be done. It was different than that. It was just an uncontrollable urge. I had to hold that cat. So I picked her up, and once again proved that none of my body parts listen to my brain when it really matters. Several seconds later as I ran into my brother again on my way into the house, he looked at me and immediately said, "You picked up the cat, didn't you?" I'm not sure what gave me away, the stunned look on my face, or the bloody gashes on my chest, arm, and shoulder.

p.s. My little quail friend never showed back up. I'm going to go on believing that he found his way home and lived happily ever after.

Coturnix Quail

2006-03-03T16:19:00.000-08:00

I rushed home from work today, eager to find my new little friend. The good news is that I didn't find any pile of feathers or a little dead body around. The bad news is, I didn't find my little friend at all. Now I'm worried that if he dies it will be my fault for sticking him back outside. "Birdmeister" identified him as a Coturnix Quail in the comments of my last post. Every picture I've googled of that bird is just like what I held. And everything I've read about it since explains why it was so tame. Based on the amount of bird dookey on the inside and the outside of my windowsill, this bird was well fed before it found its way to me. That's not even counting the times he pooped on my shirt.

Sigh.

I can't believe what a dork I am for getting so attached to a little bird. I really liked him, and I so wish he'd come back in the window tonight.

Look What The Cat Dragged In

2006-03-02T19:30:00.000-08:00

I was lounging around on the couch watching CSI, surrounded by Girl Scout cookies and I kept hearing a strange noise. I assumed it was the cat, and then I saw this creature walking along, very calmly toward me on the living room floor, talons clicking with each step. Either it walked right in my open bedroom window, or the cat "helped" it in. So after holding it in my lap for the rest of the show, I finally put it back on the window ledge to set it free. The cat helped it again. So now he (she?) is perched up on my chest and has been for over an hour. I'm trying to research what kind it is. I want to put it back out, but the last time I did, Cowboy George was determined to eat him. It was easier to catch the bird again and bring him in to safety than to catch the cat and shut the window. What is it, does anyone recognize it? And why (I know I am retarded) is there a baby bird this early? I thought birds were born in spring. He has plenty of feathers, he isn't itty bitty. He's very calm and lets me pet him and stroke his head. I don't want him to die, but I think he will if I stick him back out the window. Awww, he just climbed up near my shoulder and is snuggling with me! Birds don't snuggle, what is this thing????

* * * Friday morning update. Last night, once I was able to get the cat back in the house, I put my new birdie friend back outside. My first waking thought was "Oh, I hope he's still alive!" (What a lie, my first thought was "I gotta pee!")

So I slung back the curtain, and there he was, perched on the sill again. He had hopped out of the homemade nest I built him. Oh, too good for my hand-selected cardboard box and the pillow case I lined it with? Hmmmm, I know, it's because I had also pulled off my shirt that I'd been wearing while holding you. It needed to be washed anyway, so I threw it in the box to keep you warm. Anyway, I'm thankful my little birdie buddy is stil alive. I held him on my lap this morning (mostly just to annoy Cowboy George) then put him back outside. So unless the neighborhood cats get him, he should be OK. I hope!

I Rock!

2006-03-02T15:27:00.000-08:00

Armed with only a screwdriver and a glass of wine, I installed one of these on my front door, BY MYSELF. I know that isn't a big deal to many of you, but it is not as easy to change out a lock as it might seem. And those instructions that come with things like this are like reading a foreign language. Ooops, turn it over there's the English translation. Really, even that version it is difficult to follow.

Now no more pesky keys for my daughter to have to keep up with...

And I can set two different security codes on it. So, say if I had any money for a housekeeper, or a handyman, I could give them that code, then change it whenever I felt like it, preserving the code my family and I will use.

I am really proud of myself for installing it, but am still puzzled how it managed to look straight and even on the outside, but the contraption on the inside of the door turned out to be all cattywompus.

Do You Ever.....

2006-02-28T18:40:00.000-08:00

...dig in your purse, or a drawer for so long, you can't remember what you were looking for?

...bet yourself $10 something is going to happen, and then remember that you're a deadbeat, and you'll never pay up?

Growing Up Ivy - Part 4

2006-02-26T06:39:00.000-08:00

Remember what it was like learning to drive? Before I was old enough for my permit, I convinced my Granny to let me "drive the rest of the way home, oh please, oh, please, oh please!" She had a giant Pontiac and once behind the wheel, I thought it seemed like it took up the entire road. We were off the main road, and although this one was paved - it was chock-full of pot-holes. I really, at that time (and sometimes still based on the number of curbs I hit) had no idea exactly where the tires were. So I tried very carefully to miss the potholes, but instead hit almost every one. Granny sat beside me cringing. Finally I guess she just resigned herself to the fact that I suck at driving and she began shouting: "Bulls-eye!" each time I sunk a wheel into a hole.

I finally did get a learner's permit, and mother let me drive her into town. This was when we lived in Oklahoma (Grandpa's Lake) after my dad's retirement from the Air Force. It was the most "country" place I'd ever lived in. So we had far to go into town, and mom letting me drive meant I got to drive on an actual highway! As I was driving along, we saw a turtle crossing the road. It was just at a point where I knew I couldn't swerve to the right, not enough road left on that side, so I decided I would swerve a little to the left and "straddle" it. He'd just think a big shadow crossed his path for a moment, right? I didn't discuss any of this with mom, it just all happened so fast. Hopefully it was a quick death for him, because I ended up running right over him. My mother made a funny little noise and she turned to me with this look of horror on her face, like I was a monster and she said, "If I EVER see you go OUT OF YOUR WAY to kill an animal again..."

I don't think I ever quite convinced her that I was not that evil. I couldn't believe she thought I'd really do that on purpose!

Cowboy George

2006-02-24T21:31:00.000-08:00

This is my cat. His name is Cowboy George. No, his name has nothing to do with the president. Totally different George he is named for. In fact, he was named after a dog. I am only posting this picture for one reason: I just read someone's blog who said people who post pictures of their cats suck. (well, there is one other reason: I couldn't think of anything to say tonight)

And THIS...

2006-02-24T21:30:00.000-08:00

This is Cowboy George's water bowl. That blue thing occupying the bowl is Captain Fantastic. For some reason he seems to think it's his home.

2006-02-23T16:48:00.000-08:00

Those darn Girl Scouts , blasted little Brownie's and their rotten cookies. Why is it I think I have to buy a gazillion boxes from them every year? And why do I feel compelled to eat the cookies morning, noon, and night? Arrrgggh.

Today I picked up lunch from Taco Bell. Got back to my desk, looked at my receipt and saw that the girl had given me the "senior discount". Yes! Saved me 31 cents! (I probably looked like a senior to HER)

Look What My Sister Can Do

2006-02-21T20:00:00.000-08:00

She took one of my favorite childhood photos (I'm the one standing) and painted it for me. This is how it looks now, hanging on my living room wall. We were throwing rocks in "Grandpa's Lake". It was actually Grand Lake O' The Cherokees in northeastern Oklahoma, but as we went there every year to visit our grandpa and granny, we called it "Grandpa's Lake."

February 22nd is my sister Jules' birthday. If you go see her, speak up, cuz she's really getting up there in years!

Happy Birthday, Jules!

I Have My Orders

2006-02-17T18:47:00.000-08:00

Tonight I was instructed by my daughter not to speak again. In fact, here is an exact quote: "Don't talk, Mother. You are not allowed to speak; you have just out-dumbed yourself."

Simply because I was trying to tell her about a show that fascinated me. I said, "It's a home improvement show, and they showed... ummmm... homes being improved."

(but she didn't say I had to stop typing!)

2006-02-17T13:31:00.000-08:00

Growing Up Ivy - Part 3 (Special Valentine's Edition)

2006-02-14T17:25:00.000-08:00

When I started the 5th grade, school had already been in session for a few days. All the desks in the classroom were arranged like a big square around the room with everyone facing the center. I was assigned a chair and introduced to the class. Straight across from me sat a very cute boy who leaned over and whispered to the person next to him. That person leaned over and whispered to the next, and so on until I got this message: "Will you go with me (from Jay)?" I asked the person next to me: "Go where?" He looked at me as if I might be a little on the slow side (a look I have seen quite often in my lifetime and is easily recognizable after awhile) and he said, "go steady with him!" So I pretended to know what that meant and said OK. Word traveled back around to the dreamy Jay, who then passed a ring around the room for me. (I only had to glue the stone back in it once in our three-day relationship) The only time that I talked to Jay in this sudden romance was when we went on a field trip. He used my back to put his paper on to write notes, and I used his. Other than that, I never spoke to the guy. Keep in mind that a couple of short months later there would be snow on the ground and I would be crawling around on my hands and knees with my best friend saying "meow" and pawing at each other playing like we were kitties. I might have been a bit too immature for a steady boyfriend. I received the message one day on the playground from Sheri that Jay wanted his ring back (oh, did his big sister miss it from her jewelry box finally?) "Why?" I asked. "Because he's breaking up with you." "Oh. OK, here." Later I got the nerve to ask Sheri why Jay broke up with me. "Because you never kissed him." Oh. I didn't know I was supposed to.

Sorry, I Can't Resist

2006-02-13T16:07:00.000-08:00

Don't hate me for this, I couldn't resist. A friend sent me thirteen hilarious pictures in an email titled: 13 Reasons Not to Drink With "Friends"

This was one of the pictures that I SO wish I'd had available for THIS post: CLICK HERE!

Just remember: True friends tell their friends when the tampon string is showing.

Growing Up Ivy - Part 2

2006-02-11T19:07:00.000-08:00

Childhood memory from 3rd or 4th grade. We lived on an Air Force base in Michigan - Kincheloe I think was the name of it, but I am not sure if it is still there. We were in the Upper Peninsula, and would sometimes go to Sault Ste. Marie to go shopping. I had been saving for a "Chrissy" doll that I had seen on a previous trip. Chrissy had a cute little bob hairstyle with a ponytail sticking out of the top. If you pushed a button on her tummy and pulled the ponytail, it would "grow" past the length of her dress! I could make it short again by turning a dial on her back.

I remember getting really cocky because I had managed to save up even more money than I needed for my Chrissy doll. So feeling generous I started giving money away. Some to my little brother, and then even to some company that mom and dad had over. I just walked up and handed them some change. They said, "Oh, keep your money, we don't want your money!" I remember feeling very proud and insisting that they keep it because I had "more than enough!"

Then came the day when we went to the dime store. Mom and dad let me go to the toy section by myself while the rest of the family looked in different departments. This is my first memory of not having to be right by my parents' sides at the store. I walked Chrissy up to the counter and tried to pay for her, but did not have enough money. I was mortified. I had felt so mature, and wonderful for saving so much money. All that change carefully counted, and spread out all over the counter and the girl told me it wasn't enough. At first I just stood there dumbstruck, and finally got around to pointing to the price tag. That is when I got my first lesson about sales tax. And possibly (though I never asked) why my family decided I could be allowed to make the purchase on my own. A lesson sticks a little better when there's a little bit of worry and embarrassment to go along with it. I frantically searched for my dad who bailed me out with some change. He did ask me, though why I was needing money as he'd seen me before giving some away.

I'd like to say that I learned a valuable lesson about money... well, I did. But applying that lesson is a different story.

The End.*

*Here is an alternate ending to the story for Old Hoss's sake:

My parents had planned this whole event of letting me make my purchase alone. I had assumed they wanted me to feel more "grown up", but instead it was a plot to ditch me. At 8 p.m. when the store was closing and my family was still nowhere to be found, I left the store empty handed, and walked the 20 miles back to base through the snow. Only to find out that the family had moved. It took me quite awhile, but I caught up to them eventually in South Dakota. Boy were they surprised to see me on their doorstep!

Growing Up Ivy - Part 1

2006-02-10T17:06:00.000-08:00

I am stealing ideas. I got the above title a long time ago from FTS . He suggested it to me for something - I can't remember what - but I liked the title and it got stuck in the back of my mind (and also in my draft posts). I just didn't know what to do with it until today.

I got another idea from Carlos, who posts a "Memory Du Jour" below many of his entries. Since I haven't felt much like writing lately, I'm just going to relate a childhood memory each day until I get out of this funk. Only I'm going to cleverly disguise mine with a slightly different title so I won't be a complete copycat.

No guarantee that anything I remember will be hilarious, or even funny. Especially no guarantee that there will be a point to the story. I'm just recording random childhood memories, that's all.

Today's "Memory of the Day":

We lived in Bossier City, Louisiana. I think I was in the second grade, which would have made my baby brother about 4 years old. Granny and Grandpa let us ride in the back of their camper up to the department store with them. Leaving the Gibson's parking lot, I pointed out the back of the camper, and said to my brother, "Hey, isn't that mom and dad?" I knew full well that I was tricking him, but had no idea what the consequences would be. He ran for the back door to look out at the same time that Grandpa stepped on the gas and pulled the truck out onto the road. Little brother hit the door handle, kind of like a storm door that you just push the latch, and the door flew open. Mikey fell out onto the pavement as Granny and Grandpa drove on unaware. I banged on the window between us, but there were really TWO windows. That of the camper, and the one to the back of the pickup. Apparently they could hear me, because Granny turned around with an evil glare and told me to shut up and sit down. I read her lips. Oh yeah, and her arm pointing at me violently indicating that I should sit.

But someone managed to get their attention (I guess some other driver) because they pulled back in to the Gibson's parking lot to collect my baby brother from the ground, shrieking and wailing.

We took him home for mom to clean him up, and it turned out that he had two busted lips with little bits of gravel embedded in them. I remember that what amazed me the most was that even though his jaw trembled with the crying and sobbing, every now and then he would chomp a bit more on the chewing-gum that had managed to stay in his mouth.

2006-02-09T17:28:00.000-08:00

Ever have someone ask you what's your most embarrassing moment? Who really answers that question truthfully? Think about it. We all have embarrassing moments that we can share as amusing anecdotes once we’re able to laugh about them. Heck, I could write a book! But if you've ever had an embarrassing moment that when you think about it to this day, your face gets hot and your tummy does flips, who's ever going to reveal that?

Pretty Cool :)

2006-02-08T20:41:00.000-08:00

Stole this from Cheryl at Mad Baggage.

Close, But No Cigar...

2006-02-08T17:22:00.000-08:00

But this time, I'm not crying. One more piece of notarized paper, and a slight revision to one of my documents and the fat lady will sing.

2006-02-07T05:12:00.000-08:00

I haven't been saying much lately. Haven't felt much like writing. In one and a half hours I will be standing in front of the judge again to see if my divorce will go through. My husband asked me not to post anything about him or our divorce online any more, but right now he doesn't have internet access, so I'm taking a chance. He doesn't like the settlement, but finally went ahead and signed it just to get it all over with. For those of you who've been through a divorce, I have a question: Can anybody ever really be happy with their settlement? You can't take 1 and divide it by 2 and have each person still end up with 1. I wish it would have been this hard to get married. It would be much easier to work on something this difficult when you're young, energetic, and madly in love with the person. Now it's all bitter, and hateful, and unfair - and it gets tiring working on this. There are so many ways you can juggle all the numbers for the assets and the debts. Remember, I started this last year! Click here if you started reading after November 1st. I have spent so much time and energy on this, saving us thousands of dollars on legal fees. Trying to look out for myself, yet be as fair as I possibly can - only to be told I'm selfish and greedy as he signed the paperwork. Oh well, if this doesn't go through today, I will break down and hire a lawyer. Maybe the one I consulted with that put me off because he seemed to want my husband living under a bridge in a cardboard box that he could barely afford. Might be the only way I can prove just how fair I've been!

The Bitch is Back

2006-02-05T06:11:00.000-08:00

2006-02-02T19:55:00.000-08:00

I love so many kinds of music that I can't really say what genre I like. So I've been listening to this "Launchcast" thingy from yahoo - it lets me create my own "station" of what I like.

I could only think of a few artists to include on my playlist when I first signed up. Based on my selections, Launchcast tries to guess what other music I would like. For the record (ha ha, a musical pun... if you're old enough to remember what a record is) just because I like a particular song doesn't mean I will like everything that artist puts out.

When they play a song, I can click on any one of these, to rate it:

never play again
it's ok
like it
love it
can't get enough

Oh gosh. I realized (again) how really retarded I am. I hate to click on the "never play again" or the "it's ok" because I might hurt its feelings. Whose feelings? It's all about me, it's MY STATION! That's what they call it: MY STATION.

It's like how when I go to the grocery store and pick up an apple to inspect. Then I find it has a bruise, or an imperfection, and I feel horrible laying it back down in the bin. I can just hear it's little apple voice saying, what's wrong with ME? Why don't you like ME? Oh, because I'm not shiny and perfect and wonderful like the other apples!

Oh, but we were talking music weren't we? Browsing around at some of the other stations Launchcast has to offer, I finally found the perfect one for me: RANDOM RADIO. Yep, suits me just fine! I just have to get over the anguish of passing over some songs.

Fox's Skating With Celebrities

2006-01-30T19:37:00.000-08:00

OMG! Why didn't anybody tell me there was a reality show on called "Skating With Celebrities"? I have never seen any of the reality shows like American Idol, or Big Brother, or Bachelor. I did watch two episodes (episodes, not seasons) of Survivor, but that was only because a couple of years ago some people at work said I should be on it. (Don't laugh, I used to be lean and mean. Really.)

But skating, I LOVE! Like FTS likes baseball. This show is so great, in my opinion, because I know how hard it is to ice skate. I never managed, in all the years I've tried it to do more than stay on my feet and skate forward. And never with any grace, or style. It is tough, it really is. And I admire someone who can do something that I find so challenging, and make it look so easy. Well, that's what the professionals do, anyway. But these are celebrities paired with a professional, and they are learning. I also think skating can be very dangerous, and I cringe sometimes with the lifts and the way the men toss their partners around.

I've challenged myself physically in the past with things like the marathon I did the year I turned 40; the Hotter'N Hell , which is a 100-mile bike ride in Wichita Falls that takes place in August; and the MS150, a 2-day charity event which was a 150-mile bike ride crossing the Red River up to Oklahoma. That one was done in bone-chilling rain and strong headwinds. But see, these were just endurance tests. They involved no talent on my part. No style, just stay upright either on my feet or on my bicycle and keep going.

So maybe you're a fan of reality shows, or maybe you think they're hokey. This is one I'll watch again. Plus I got to see cool 70's celebs like Bruce Jenner and Dorothy Hamil. Dorothy is one of the judges, and I had her famous haircut in 1976. Yeah, I'm cool like that.

I'm not getting all caught up in whether the judges are fair, or snarky, or which team deserves to win. I'm just fascinated at watching these people try, and train so hard to compete in something when they obviously haven't spent their life on the ice like the professionals.

The Devil Logged on to eBay, He Was Biddin' For a Soul to Buy...

2006-01-29T16:45:00.000-08:00

Recently I went to one of my favorite restaurants with my son, his girlfriend, and one of my son's friends. Now imagine the 30 minute wait with a 19 year old girl, and two 19 year old boys. I mostly just listened, and felt very old. During the meal, I found an opportunity to say something I thought would impress them. (Basically I was trying to fit in, OK?) I wanted to make sure they know that I'm not an old fart, so I thought I could impress them with my computer savvy. I mean, look at me. I have my own blog, I can upload a picture, for cryin' out loud! And not only that, to add to my high-tech experience, I just sold something on eBay for the very first time in my life. I bragged to them about selling my motorcycle jacket.

This revelation (which did not amaze them as much as I thought it would - possibly because it turns out that I had mentioned it before a time or two) led my son's friend to say, "Did you know that you can sell your soul on eBay?" He said that someone is actually collecting souls (I did not check to see if this is true) and will pay for them. Supposedly you get some sort of contract to fill out, fax it to them signing over your soul, and then you get paid. Mitch's friend asked me if I would consider selling my soul on eBay for a thousand dollars. I said, "NO WAY! Of course not! What if that's the devil and he has an eBay account?"

Which prompted my son to break out with this spontaneous rap:

I am the devil, and I'm here to say
That I'm buying all your souls on eBay.

OK, maybe you had to be there.

It's Raining Rain! Hallelujah!

2006-01-28T08:43:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know my title has nothing to do with my post, I'm just excited that it is raining in Dallas. It's been awhile. I have been busy running around getting very little accomplished. This is my M.O. I have so many things started, and no focus to finish any one thing right now. I have a really neat project that I want to work on, but will not allow myself to start on it until I get some REAL work done.

Pictured is a great find (in my opinion) and the project I'm going to allow myself to tackle once I get some chores finished. This old vanity, I can tell... was once a lovely piece of furniture. Then someone painted it a golden color, scraped it all up, and then defiled it with black spray paint. I'm going to fix it up and make it beautiful again. I love restoring things like this back to the natural wood. I don't know if this is an antique, I'm not very knowledgeable about things like that. I do know that it is solid wood, even in the drawers. Nothing flimsy or particle board about it. And the mirror inside the flip-up lid looks pretty old. All I know is that 1) it is going to be lovely, 2) it is a hobby I enjoy doing, and 3) it was only $20. We were made for each other!

List of things to do before I am allowed to play with my new, old vanity:

Get the ceiling repaired in master bedroom
Paint the bedroom
Finish stripping off the wallpaper in the bathroom (I thought was fun for about, oh 20 minutes then I got bored, leaving it looking like a hideous disaster)
Paint the kitchen
Re-model the bathrooms

I just need to focus, and concentrate on one thing at a time. Either that, or get rich and hire someone to do it all so I can play!

You Can Lead Me to the Kitchen, But You Cannot Make Me Cook

2006-01-22T15:05:00.000-08:00

I have this friend who loves to cook. Even knowing that I'm not too fond of cooking, he once insisted on sharing with me a "simple" recipe. He told me the few ingredients to purchase, and instructed me on how to make it. My eyes glazed over, though, when the instructions included something about a warming light and copper pan to melt the cheese. Is he for real? Has he seen my kitchen? I am not a kitchen gadget sort of gal. So he said, OK, then just use a double-boiler pan. Searching my memory way, way back to 8th grade Home Economics, I could almost picture one, so I said "yeah, OK!" very enthusiastically as if I actually owned one.

The Much Anticipated Margaritafest - At Last!

2006-01-20T22:05:00.000-08:00

We did it! Jules and I finally met FTS for margaritas! And it was a lot of fun! After meeting us, FTS has changed his mind about moving to Denver. You heard me right, he's not going there after all. His new destination: Alaska. (He mumbled something about Denver not being far enough away from me and my sister.) I'm just ~~lying~~ making that up, but I do think he now plans to get out of town sooner than his March goal.

Monty was right, his eyes are incredible. I brought my daughter with me and she immediately said she wants contacts like his. FTS doesn't wear colored contacts and said so. She said she just wants hers to be that color blue.

He took a picture of us which I think he may post on his site. There were some cute, sexy little blond girls going around passing out Miller Lite freebies in the restaurant, I kept trying to get FTS to take a picture of one of them and say it was me.

When we parted ways, he probably left with a big sigh, grateful to be getting away from three chatty women. I told him I hope we do that again soon, and I really mean it. He is a neat guy!

Remarks/Questions That I Won't Likely Ever Hear (At Least Not Directed Toward ME, Anyway)

2006-01-19T21:25:00.000-08:00

"Ohmigosh! This is DELICIOUS! You MADE this?"

"May I have your autogr... Oh! Pardon me; I thought you were Angelina Jolie! The resemblance is uncanny!"

"Will you just cut loose and act like a goofball at least once in awhile?"

"Ma'am, the PETITE department is THAT way."

"We're going to have to thin this out a bit; you just have waaay too much hair!"

"You're a perfect mother; you do absolutely everything right and make it seem SO easy!"

"Johnny Depp called; he said he'd be a few minutes late picking you up tonight."

"I have never seen anyone swim/run/dance with such grace and elegance!"

Don't Be Hating Just Cuz You're Jealous

2006-01-18T15:01:00.000-08:00

I have a talent that many of you may be amazed by: I can cross one eye toward my nose, while the other eye looks straight ahead. I can't tell you how many folks I have entertained with this feat. I wish I had a dollar for every time my kids proudly said, "Do that eye thing, mom! Show them your eye trick!"

But not everyone is properly impressed. In fact, once I showed my personal trainer at the gym and he said to me, "I highly recommend you never do that in public again."

He was just jealous if you ask me.

Stand Back, People.... I Have a Putty-Knife and I Know How to Use It!

2006-01-16T16:53:00.000-08:00

First, I must warn you... I am sitting in an office chair from Wal-Mart that I assembled MYSELF. So if you hear a loud crash... and see something similar to this: odvgo7 e# ngn* lodv;wm - that is me typing from the floor. Translated it means: "I've fallen and I can't get up, please call 911."

I got a phone call this morning from my sister. She asked me if I'd read FTS yet. I said, "No, Jules, I have a friend from work coming over and I am frantically trying to catch up on housework. I have not even turned on the computer." She said that I should, as FTS wrote about me. Me? What'd I do? So I briefly stopped rearranging the dust in my house to check out his site. Awwww, how sweet! Birthday wishes for me! And he sent so many people over to say Happy Birthday. Thanks, so much!

All I had time to do was comment on his site, and then get on with the housework. I was determined to trick my friend into thinking I clean house more than once a year. He walked up to the back door while I was spraying Windex on the door window. Considering it was doggie nose prints I was wiping off, and the fact that I gave my dog to Jules quite some time ago, I don't think he was fooled.

Now before any gossip starts about a man coming to my house, let me tell you why he was here. I am trying to do some home repairs, and he came over to show me how to fix some things around the house. Man, I gotta tell you... this guy is easy. For the price of a cheeseburger at Snuffers, he was wall-putty in my hands. It was like having a personal handy-man from one of those TV shows show up at my door. He walked me through what all we needed on our list, we went to the store together, and he pointed out exactly what to buy, (getting me out of Home Depot in record time) then gave me step by step instructions back at my house.

This is too cool, people. I feel like Poopie must have when she got her power sander. I feel empowered, I feel like Susie Homebuilder. Heck, I may put my fist through a wall tomorrow, just because I know how to patch it, and I HAVE THE STUFF TO PATCH IT WITH!

Life's Pretty Darn Good, and Here's Proof:

2006-01-13T18:15:00.000-08:00

Last night, my son and his girlfriend came over with movies. They picked some they thought I'd like, brought them over, and sat down and watched them with me! This gives me hope, people. Hope that some day when I am in a nursing home, they will visit me! Lord knows it's not my cooking or a chance of an inheritance that brings them by. They like me, they really like me! (The first one of you that mentions pity is in big trouble. That goes for you, too, son.)
Y Y Y Y Y
My son informed me that he has enrolled in college! Yay! I've been hoping he would, but I wanted it to be his idea. Oh, and his money. That too.
Y Y Y Y
I finally know how to pronounce Hermione! Yes! If it was explained before book four, I missed it. I am thoroughly enjoying the fifth Harry Potter book now that I don't have to pronounce her name fourteen ways in my head before I can go on.
Y Y Y
My daughter got a little taste of what I went through when I took her and her best friend to New York. She had to wait an eternity for two of her friends to "fix up" before they all went out to dinner. They took so long getting ready, that their only choices were IHop and the bowling alley. Justice. Yes, sweet justice.
Y Y
And those are some of the reasons why I'm grinning like a fat woman with her feet up sippin' wine and enjoying a quiet Friday night.
Y
Life is good!

My Kids May Shoot Me for Telling You This

2006-01-10T17:39:00.000-08:00

I think it's important to learn from your mistakes. I also think it can be very beneficial to learn from the mistakes of others. But this is not exactly what I had in mind:

My son went to a summer YMCA Sports Camp one year. I can't remember how old he was, but perhaps he'll reply in the comments. He sorta, kinda got in a wee bit of trouble for "borrowing" one of his dad's Playboy magazines and showing it off to the other day campers. You know, first there's the trouble from the camp counselors, then there's the trouble from the parents at home - which inevitably little sister hears about.

I recently found out in one of those "Let's Tell Mom All The Rotten Things We Got Away With Right Under Her Nose HA HA Isn't That a Hoot" dinners (which I thought would take place at least a year after BOTH kids had moved out) that my daughter learned a lot from that incident.

When my daughter found a a stash of similar magazines in her brother's old bedroom after he left home, did she throw them away in disgust? No. Did she use them for blackmail against her big brother? No. Did she show them off to other kids? Of course not! She learned from someone else's mistake, remember?

She sold them on the school bus.

I'll See Your MeMe, and I'll Raise You Three More! (Oh Forget It - I'm Bluffing)

2006-01-07T13:57:00.000-08:00

Way back in November Lis tagged me with this meme. I tried several times to do it. The questions were great, but I found some of my answers a bit too incriminating.

Then in December Wrath of Dawn tagged me with this meme. I really thought this one would be easy but found that I've just about run out of weird things about me that ~~I'm willing to admit~~ I haven't already confessed to in my blog. Here is a copy and paste from the draft of my aborted attempt at that meme:

1) I sleep in a bunkbed
2) I love to watch the garbage truck pick up and dump my trash bins
3)
4)
5)

So I saw FTS from Follow That Star and TSB over at The Space Between did the following meme, and thought I would attempt it. Couldn't get to 7 things on any topic:

Seven things I plan to do before I die:

1) Attend My Daughter's Wedding (this could possibly make me immortal)
2) Play with my grandchildren (But not anytime soon! My kids and I are too young!)
3) Buy a piano and take lessons
4) Get back in shape
5) Visit the Black Hills of South Dakota once more
6)
7)

Seven things I can do:

1) Drive a motorcycle
2) Kayak
3) Drive a standard automobile
4) Roller Blade
5) Play poker
6)
7)

Seven things I can't do:
1) Tell a convincing lie
2) Bend over easily
3) Cook worth a darn
4) Sew worth a darn
5)
6)
7)

Seven things that attract me to another person:
1) Patience
2) Tolerance
3) Kindness
4) Humor
5)
6)
7)

Seven things I say most often:

1) Holy Crapamoli!
2) Holy Schnikeys!
3) Holy Guacamole!
4) Lord Help Me!
5) I don't feel good!
6)
7)

Finally, I have tagged myself from Bornfool with this much easier meme:

Four Jobs I've had In My Life:

Waitress/cook/cabin cleaner at a resort on Grand Lake (I was 16 - my first job)
Cashier at a Quick Stop (also while a teenager)
Hotel Clerk (was a part time job just last year)
Bank Teller (my first full-time job out of high school)

Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over:

Urban Cowboy (John Travolta in that black hat on that bull.... mmmhhhmmmm)
Mind The Gap (really cool stories)
Grease (and my daughter and I can sing all the songs!)
Edward Scissorhands (Just a really cool movie)

Four TV Shows I Love To Watch:

CSI
Scrubs
Two and a Half Men
Navy NCIS

Four Places I Have Been On Vacation:

The Bahamas (I was 20, I stayed at a Club-Med, it was awesome!)
New York City (took my daughter there for Spring Break, and my son for his 19th birthday)
San Francisco (Went there at age 19 and loved it)
Orlando, FL (Took the kids to Disney World - Universal Studios was more fun, though!)

Four Websites I Visit Daily:

www.cnn.com (I don't take the paper and I don't watch the news on TV)
My bank's website (to check my balance)
www.launch.yahoo.com (to listen to music while I blog)
www.freecycle.org (just in case someone's trash is my treasure, ya know?)

Four Of My Favorite Foods:

Chips and Salsa (anywhere, any time)
Spring Rolls with Peanut Sauce (from The Green Papaya at Cedar Springs and Oak Lawn)
Pistachio Chicken (from Cafe Istanbul)
Sweet Potato Fries (served by that hot waiter at Hattie's in Oak Cliff)

Four Places I'd Rather Be Right Now:

In the arms of Johnny Depp (But not as his Willy Wonka character)
In Austin, turning in my winning lottery ticket (Can you say Mega Millions?)
At a Michael Buble Concert (front row, getting to touch him would be cool)
In my hammock with a good book (except the dog ate my hammock)

I Have a Question

2006-01-07T03:49:00.000-08:00

I was in my bed, under a sheet and a good, warm comforter trying to read. But it was hard to hold the book because I was shivering. So I got up to turn on the heater and thought: "Well no wonder I'm so cold, it's 66 degrees in here!"

And that got me to wondering...

Why is it that if our normal body temperature is 98.6, we are not comfortable if the room is that temperature? Maybe some of you scientifics like Hoss could tell me. I'm sure some of you will laugh as this was probably something I would have learned in school if I'd been paying attention.

***Update*** after reading one of the comments, I re-read my post and I don't think I worded it right. What I mean to say that I was my shivering in bed made me wonder why if we are 98.6 degrees, we're not comfortable at 98 degrees. I think I made it sound like I was wondering why I wasn't comfortable at 66. I just don't get it. If my house was 98 degrees I'd be uncomfortable. I guess I'm just too dense to understand it, but it seems like if the outside temperature matched my inside temperature I'd be happy, right?

Witness a Miracle, People!

2006-01-04T20:28:00.000-08:00

Here it is, folks. The first ever picture taken by moi. Not shamelessly stolen from the internet. This is an actual photo of MY hand holding MY cell phone taken with my daughter's digital camera. Eventually uploaded to the computer after only several hundred attempts and cries for help. (she's grumpy when I call her out of the bathtub... or away from a good book... or from bed) Then after a seemingly endless search to find out where the darn thing was located in the computer... HERE IT IS. Yes, you saw it here first. A modern miracle. I'm sorry, I'm getting a bit teary-eyed, and swelling with pride. Sigh.

OK on with the post. A short one - not quite worth all this trouble.

Cell Phones Are a Great Way to Communicate With Your Teen. Especially When You're on the Bus Headed For Downtown Before They Even Get Out of Bed!

Text message from Ma to Mallory: 7:30 a.m. U up for school?

Text message from Mallory to Ma: 7:31 a.m. yea

Text message from Ma to Mallory: 7:32 a.m. thanks hon. Sorry you hate school. I hope something good happens today to make you like it

Text message from Mallory to Ma: 7:33 a.m. What? Like it blows up?

Is It Just Me?

2006-01-03T17:30:00.000-08:00

Have you ever just bumped into a wall for no good reason? I'm not talking about walking head into it, just bumped your elbow, or shoulder, or your hand. And you're not drunk and you're not dizzy, and you've been walking by that very wall for fifteen years.

Or is that just me?

Ladies, have you ever been lucky enough for your pantyhose to last more than one day, but the next time you put them on they have a big black mark from the inside heel of the shoe that now shows on your ankle creeping up toward the back of your calf?

Or is that just me?

Have you ever had to tug so hard to get your jeans up over your hips that you eventually rip little holes where the belt loops are sewn to your pants?

Or is that just me?

Have you ever tried to pretend like it didn't bother you that every one of your girlfriends got asked to dance but you, and so you sit there in the club trying to act all sexy and nonchalant and scan the room, and go to take a sip from the straw in your fancy schmancy girly drink... and stick it straight up your nose?

Don't answer. That's just me.

Somehow in the Last Year I've Turned Into Slugzilla

2006-01-02T12:47:00.000-08:00

I have been living alone for the past two weeks. My daughter spent her Christmas break in Oklahoma with her best friend. I've been shuffling around the house in my slippers and talking to myself for two weeks. Just me and the cat. I finally got my daughter back yesterday. Last night we pigged out on SnickerDoodles and watched "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants." I heard something in the middle of the night, and thought "Gasp! Someone's in the house!" Oh yeah, duh. Mallory's back. It sure is nice to have her home.

Everybody's doing it, so I guess I might as well set some New Year's Resolutions:

1) I will go back to the gym more faithfully (just so a small set of stairs won't kill me)
2) I will not become obsessive about it again (working out twice a day, 6 days a week)
3) I will eat the things I like (my days of chicken breast and raw spinach are over)
4) I will stop being obsessive about my weight - up or down
5) I will no longer ~~consider killing~~ be so intolerant of my next-cubicle-neighbor
6) I will cut back on my drinking (I didn't say stop)
7) I will start putting more money in my savings account
8) To buy another motorcycle!

That's enough. I can't stands no more!

Random Stuff About My Other Kid, and Random Kids, and Just Being a Kid... Ya Know?

2005-12-31T17:50:00.000-08:00

This is my son, Mitch. He's 19. Guess what he and his girlfriend got me for Christmas??? TWO Michael Buble CD's with DVD's, plus the soundtrack to Rent! You know what was really cool and meant a lot to me? He sat down to watch one of the DVD's with me. What a great kid!

Krisco's got me reminiscing about when the kids were little.

Have you ever noticed how happy you can make a kid just by pinning a dishtowel to the back of his shirt like a cape? Why can't we just do that as adults every now and then? If we feel like having a little fun, adventure and just as if we had super-powers, we could wear a cape. And jump off the back of the couch.

This morning I was having my usual bowl of cereal for breakfast and it occurred to me, boy, I sure do miss getting a toy in the box. I don't remember which was more fun as a kid: getting to the prize before my siblings did, or the challenge of squeezing the box in such a way that I could slip my arm down the inside and retrieve the toy immediately after opening the package. Either way led to opportunities for further challenges.

Happy New Year, People!

Yep, I Taught Her That! (Lessons That Fortunately Didn't Stick)

2005-12-29T18:36:00.000-08:00

<--My baby girl, Mallory.
YYYYY
"Yikes! I have only one week to learn how to catch, throw, and hit a softball." That is what I said the day I found out that my daughter's team was having a "Kids vs. Parents" game for their end of season party. Why didn't they warn me at the beginning of the season? I wouldn't have jumped up cheering every great play she made ~~lying~~ yelling, "I taught her that!"
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One day about a year ago, my husband and I were taking Mallory to her golf lesson. Her dad was trying to stress all this trivial stuff about her form, equipment, and etiquette on the golf course. I butted in and said, "Sweetie, it's not how you play, it's how good-looking your golf-pro is and how cute you look in your little outfit". Of course they knew I was only kidding. Come on, I'm not that stupid. I know what really matters in golf! It's who gets the highest score, right?
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Recently I brought my daughter downtown to work with me. She observed something about me and was pretty quick to point it out. She noticed that every time I walk by a mirror, window, whatever shiny surface might reflect my image, I "check myself out". Huh? Doesn't every woman do that? Oh wait, I remember the time that I discovered every woman does not do that. It was an after work happy hour and I came back from the restroom very depressed. Of course my friends wanted to know why, so I explained to them that the walls of the bathroom stall were so shiny black that I glanced over and saw my reflection. I got for the first time, a glimpse of what I looked like with skirt hiked up sitting on the toilet. Gut hanging over one way; rear the other, thighs hanging over both sides. Very depressing. Guess those other women hadn't noticed that before, because it was their next trip down the hall that ruined their night.

True Story - I Swear This Happened

2005-12-28T04:04:00.000-08:00

I've been out of high school 25 years now. At my 10-year reunion one former football jock raised his shirt to show off his big, fat belly, patted it proudly and proclaimed, "See how good my wife cooks!" My scrawny husband lifted his shirt, patted his shipwreck-survivor-like ribs (gently, so they wouldn't crumble to dust) and said, "You see how mine cooks."

Pardon Me, But Your Slip Is Showing?

2005-12-26T20:25:00.000-08:00

You know… when one morning you decide to wear another skirt underneath your really itchy skirt rather than a slip because it’s longer than your slip - thereby offering more of a protective barrier between the itchy skirt and your legs… and when later in the day this "substitute slip" (which happens to have a very wild and colorful pattern) decides to come unbuttoned and hang down below your nice, beige, conservative, itchy skirt in the back by oh, say four or five inches… it’s nice to know that someone will tell someone else to inform you that it shows.

I don't expect anyone to follow, or understand any of this.

I'm Just Sitting Here Remembering Little Bits of Christmas Pasts. Kinda Like Scrooge, Only Without the Terror of Ghosts Guiding Me Through It

2005-12-24T12:08:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite Christmas memories was when my mom bought me a plane ticket to spend Christmas with a friend in South Dakota. I was 15, my family and I had moved (totally against my will) to Oklahoma, leaving all my best friends from 9th grade behind. So I went to Nancy's house and got to see all my old buddies. Just before we went to bed Christmas Eve, I said, "Where are your stockings? Let's hang stockings!" Since that wasn't one of their family traditions, Nancy selected a striped sock from her drawer, and I hung up one of my Starsky & Hutch socks. The next morning we each found a dollar bill in them. N's mom said, she had meant to go outside and find a dog turd to put in them, but didn't because a) it was so cold she didn't want to go out, and b) the frozen dookie would have thawed in the warmth of the house. I realize now, that it's not nice to impose your own traditions on other people at the last possible moment, and expect them to come through. But I was grateful for the dollar, and so happy not to have poo in my S & H sock.

I remember a Christmas when my son was so young that we had to teach and encourage him to rip open the presents. He just didn't grasp the concept that if he tore open one gift and found something cool, that there might be something great in the next box. I was the one that should have learned a lesson there, I had a son who was happy with one gift! Ha HA, if only I'd known. But yet we encouraged him to "Here! rip open another one!" "See what's in this box!" Well, one short year later, the boy had caught on. It was about a week before Christmas, and I walked out of my bedroom and observed his little 2 1/2 year old self dragging a gift from under the tree to his bedroom. After a few ripping sounds, I hid behind the door so he wouldn't see me and watched him repeat this process about four times. He never looked sneaky, just selected a gift, dragged it to his room, opened it, left it laying there (so far all he'd found was some clothes for his aunt, some perfume for a cousin, and a few other boring things), and went back for another. I finally had to put a stop to it because I got the giggles so bad, I was busted hiding behind the door spying on him. Plus I didn't really feel like re-wrapping all those gifts.

Another Christmas memory involves my daughter. It was Christmas 2003, I think. The presents were all wrapped, she shook and felt each one that had her name on it. Intrigued by this one particular gift, pretty heavy for its size, she declared that it was to be the first one she would open. She handled it every day, baffled by what it could be. (does this mean she knew every other gift?) I kept warning her, over and over that it was a gag gift. Finally the day had arrived when she could tear it open. A kitchen fire extinguisher. I am blessed with a daughter that can take a joke, as it was only in early November when she was home alone and had started a grease fire making something to eat, burning herself and most of the kitchen. And unless you think we're cold-hearted and mean... pain and suffering over, most of the scars had healed nicely, (just a few remain on hands and fingers). Her lovely face showed no permanent damage, eyebrows both grown back, insurance paid up, and now it's time to joke about it. Some day when I have a scanner I'll post some pictures of her face and tell you the whole story.

OK, very long post, I know. And now I'm going to try to get my big rear end in gear and do some things around the house.

I hope that you all have a great Christmas Holiday. Wishing you the best!

2005-12-24T11:41:00.000-08:00

I remember the Christmas that I was about 12 or 13 years old. We lived in South Dakota at the time. My mom sat us all down - my older sister, my little brother, and me and said that she would like for us to consider how good we had life. She proposed that all the money she would have spent on us for Christmas be spent instead on the children at the nearest Indian reservation. We all agreed, and so mom went out and got all the gifts. She had us pose in the front entry of our house surrounded by toys while she snapped photos of us. Now after all these years, I will admit something I'm ashamed to say that I felt at the time: I recall thinking all the while that mom was really going to get us something. She didn't. Not one thing. But that was the deal, and for some greedy reason, I was disappointed that mom stuck to it. I also look back and although it was a really nice thing for her to do, we kids had no real active part in it, except nodding our heads agreeing to forfeit our gifts. Yes, I do know that we had it good, and didn't need a bunch more "things" that we would likely not appreciate as much as those children did. However, we didn't get any of the joy of shopping for those gifts, and we didn't even get to go with her to deliver them. I know that sounds mean and petty of me, but it's a Christmas memory, and that is after all, the topic. If I had it to do over again, I would suggest that mom let us have a more active role in seeing the good that we were doing.

How Do I Apologize To Someone I Might Not Ever See Again, Who Would Likely Run From Me If I Did See Him?

2005-12-22T19:55:00.000-08:00

Sigh... I need to make amends. I need to apologize. I feel really bad about something and I don't know how to make it right. I scared the poo (literally, I think) out of a stranger, and I feel terrible about it!

See... a little over a year ago, when I was a "runner" or "jogger" - whatever you want to call it... I did a bad thing. And I'd like to make a public apology.

I used to jog at 4:30 a.m. every day. Faithfully. Same time every morning. I live in a quiet neighborhood and for the few years that I did this, I ran into almost no one; on foot, or in a car. Well... there was the paper boy's car. He and I were pretty much on the same schedule, but he only hit me with the newspaper twice in all that time. Pretty shameful if you ask me, I should have been an easier target at my pace. But enough about him, he's not the one I want to apologize to.

One morning I took off for my jog with my big black Labrador retriever. As the streets were always deserted, I never put her on a leash; it was much more enjoyable for both of us that way. She got in about twice as many miles as me since she ran way ahead, then back to me over and over throughout the route. But once again, I'm straying from the point.

On this particular jogging excursion, I ran into two things that I had thus far never encountered. The first being two other leash-free dogs, and the second thing being a fellow jogger. Dogs and runner did not belong to each other, and here's why I know that:

As I rounded a corner with my lab, the two unattended dogs appeared out of nowhere and made a mad dash toward her. She ran in the direction of home. I ran behind the three dogs (way behind, I might add, needlessly) shouting, "Leave her alone" and "Come here, sit!" all in vain. But guess who was headed our way a couple of blocks distant? Another jogger. Perhaps, (who knows?) for his first time out. At least at that hour, as we'd never crossed paths before.

The poor man saw nothing but three very large dogs running toward him. But I saw him literally stop in his tracks, look around in a panic, and I swear he seemed to consider leaping up on top of a parked car. But the two dogs suddenly stopped chasing my pooch. She then ran back to me, scared almost to death. And I watched the man turn and waddle - I repeat - waddle away down a side street.

Now, I would have liked to have had an opportunity to say I'm sorry. In fact I did try, but he was too far away to hear me saying, "Oh, I'm so sorry, sir, they were chasing her!" "Sir? Sir?" or maybe he just chose to ignore me.

Remembering The Age of 5...

2005-12-20T22:09:00.000-08:00

When I was 5 years old, I was in Kindergarten. Here are a few of the things I remember about my kindergarten year: I remember getting in trouble for showing a girl how to crack her knuckles. I had to help her with it, and apparently the teacher thought I was trying to hurt her. I think the other little girl did too, and so she missed the best part of the lesson; how you only have to wait about 20 minutes and you can pop each one again. I remember cutting out a picture of a tomato from a magazine that looked more like a circular saw-blade by the time I was through with it. And the teacher, when she saw it said, "You can do better than that." I remember trying to test the teachers' claims that they could see through the walls by raising my head up and looking all around during "nap time". I remember wanting to participate in "Show and Tell" one day, so I cut out a lady's picture from the TV Guide at the last moment before I left the house for school. Hey, it got me up in front of the room, and I just held it up to show the class. The teacher then reminded me there was a "tell" portion to this game, and urged me to say something about the picture. So I said that the woman in the picture was dead. Teacher said, "Oh my! Really? How did she die?" Tragic plane crash, I explained. She then answered how odd that was as she'd just seen the woman on the Jackie Gleason show the very night before. I remember thinking something like "bite me" at that point even though that expression hadn't really become popular yet in 1967.

My buddy LR over at "That's the way my cookie crumbles..." inspired this post, and I hope you'll go read her touching Life Lessons At 5. It's an awesome post. Enjoy!

Does He Do This on Purpose?

2005-12-20T04:32:00.000-08:00

Every morning my cat (Cowboy George) and I crawl out of my bed at the same time. Every morning we have two completely different destinations in mind. Mine is urgent and involves a potty. His destination is the kitchen. We run side by side, bounding for our goals, but then always... and I do mean always there is a point in which we collide. I'm not sure if collide is the correct word, or even the only word to describe this morning event. Because other words like entangle, trip, and squash come to mind. And why is it he can't learn that I will get to his food bowl in a moment? I will not walk out the door without feeding him, but first things, first, Cowboy George! This morning ritual can't be fun for him because sometimes I step on his paw and then he yowls, and I say (as I continue running) "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

I have some reason to think, though, that he may be doing this on purpose! I mean if you were to see that point in which our paths cross, it's like he's doing some sort of dance under my feet. Like his goal is to trip me up each morning or he can't enjoy the rest of his day. Because he could run to the left, and I run to the right and part ways. And I'd meet him at his bowl after I'm finished using mine. But I'm starting to thing the little guy is doing it on purpose!

Happy Birthday, Dallas!

2005-12-18T22:01:00.000-08:00

Well, not Dallas the CITY. Dallas - as in FTS, our blogging buddy from: Most likely if you read his site, you went there already today. Long before you got bored enough to come see me. If you were already there, I hope you wished him a Happy Birthday. If not, would you please go say hi and do that now? And say that Ivy sent you. Cuz for every person I send his way, that will just be further proof that I have some sort of special powers of mind-control over people I've never met. I've been practicing on Bubba with some success. I got him to post a picture of himself in a Santa hat. Sure, say that he just got new PC equipment, and 'tis the season, and he was probably going to do it anyway... Think what you like, people, I am truly convinced that it was me that caused that to happen. Anyway, obviously this mind-control sort of needs ~~a little~~ quite a lot of work...

Speaking of work, and powers of the mind... I did have one teeny bit of success at using my "Carrie"-like powers. No, I did not trap a bunch of prom-goers in a burning gymnasium. I am not that advanced, OK? Yet. A guy at work used to sit near me, and he drove me nuts with his quirky little noises. One day as I was clenching my teeth in rage at his annoying habits in the next cubicle, I heard him choke on a piece of candy! I ~~briefly~~ immediately felt bad, and thought: Wow, I have got to get these powers under control. Someone could get seriously hurt!

***Hmmmm... someone could get seriously hurt!***

Soon the guy must have sensed my evil powers because he moved to another cubicle, then shortly after that he retired.

Anyway, never fear, people. I have since decided to use my powers in good ways now rather than evil, starting little like wishing FTS a happy birthday, moving right up to helping Hoss make his pile.

2005-12-18T18:13:00.000-08:00

I am the only person I know that can be sick for five days and still gain weight. I bet it's my silly superstitious ways of having to follow that old saying. You know the one; "Feed a cold, feed a fever, feed a headache, feed a backache, feed a hangnail, feed a stubbed toe..."

I Predict That There Will Be At Least 14 Smart Remarks Regarding Other Reasons I Might Be Avoided

2005-12-17T15:06:00.000-08:00

Yawns are contagious.
Colds are contagious.
Why can't being rich be contagious?
Oh, I know... because then the opposite might be true, and people with money would avoid me like the plague.

I Had A Fabulously Written Post Ready (Yeah, Right!) But Then THIS Came Up....

2005-12-16T10:32:00.000-08:00

Home Fires' incredible Lois Lane, who wrote a killer song on the spot after being given only a title to work with (see it in the comments of my Armadillo post) has once again amazed me with her talent.

A recent post of mine pondered on the number of cigarettes my friend would be worth in prison. As usual (typical for me) I had nothin'. Just the mere (stolen from a friend) idea for wondering how many we could be worth, but no system (or clue for that matter) for coming up with an answer. But then I got an email from Lois. She has designed a quiz to help you determine just what your cigarette value might be in prison. It's fun to take, even if you're not a smoker. Heck, even if you're not in prison! Here is the rating system:

If your score is:
80 to 100 you're worth 10 cartons
50 to 70 you're worth 4 cartons
30 to 40 you're worth 1 carton
0 to 20 Bend over, this won't hurt a bit

Thanks, Lois, your quiz questions were great and funny, just like you!

Be Prepared For Some Really Long Run-on Sentences in This Post, I Kid You Not!

2005-12-14T17:28:00.000-08:00

The last time I went out to eat, it was for Mexican food. I had just finished a fantastic meal of chicken enchiladas plus fourteen baskets of chips and 32 cups of salsa. I leaned back in my chair, unzipped my pants, shoved my almost empty plate back, noticed the evil glares from the other restaurant patrons, zipped my pants back up, then reexamined the nearly empty plate. My eyes were fixed on the only remaining item on it: the sour cream. So then I thought... "Boy, I long for the days when my kids were little and thought the sour cream was something worth trying to steal, beg or make a trade for." The kids are older and wiser now and long ago (and after only one time each) realized that the white blob is not something sweet. Beats me why they'd ever think that whipped cream or ice cream would be side by side with a matching mound of guacamole and across from the refried beans and rice, anyway. Either keep the sour cream to yourselves, people or let me have my joy back by dining with some gullible kids.

I Know FTS and SIRS GIRL Hate Them, But They're Like Money in Some Places, People!

2005-12-12T22:00:00.000-08:00

You've all seen the little things on other blog sites that you can play. Things like: "What's my Elf Name?" And I'm certain you've heard of: "What's My Blog Worth?" What about: "I'm a ____ in The TTLB Blogosphere Ecosystem"? We click on those places, fill in our names or our web sites, and then we all have a fun time comparing ourselves to each other.

Well, here's a new one for you:

"How Many Cigarettes Would I Be Worth In Prison?"

Sorry, folks. I don't have any links for you to click on. I don't know how to program something for you to fill in, so you'll get back a funny answer. I made that title up. You're on your own. You'll either have to determine for yourself how many cigarettes you'd be worth, or ask your friends - maybe they can tell you!

But I can let you in on the birth of this genius idea. The credit really belongs to one of my friends. We were having a discussion about someone we'd heard of that went to prison. My Dear Friend (who I will from now on call DF) and I had a conversation that went something like this:

DF: "I've always wanted to know how many cigarettes I'd bring in prison. It's just a philosophical question that I hope never to really have answered."
Ivy: "Four."
DF: "It's sort of a self-worth thing. Is that four cigarettes, or four packs?"
Ivy: "Four cigarettes."
DF: "Oh. I'd be like the prison blue light special in the scratch and dent bin."
Signed,

Ivy - who knows full well it's her friends that are funny, not her.

Mind Games - A Trick I Sometimes Fall For

2005-12-11T04:18:00.000-08:00

OK, I'm going to pretend that friends just called and are "in the neighborhood" and asked if they can drop by. Not the kind of friends who wouldn't care if my house was a ~~disaster~~ little dirty,but the "I'd be mortified if they saw my house like this, and I'd hide behind the door being really still with my hands over the kids' mouths pretending we weren't home waiting motionless until they gave up knocking and went away" kind of friends. (Phew! hard to say, but you know you have some just like 'em) Hey, I don't want everyone ~~knowing~~ thinking that I'm a total slob. I used to trick myself into thinking Johnny Depp was on his way over, but I basically just quit falling for that lie, and sat around doing nothing.

Gotta run! No time to blog, people, I'm in a hurry! Imaginary company is on the way!

What If ???

2005-12-09T22:01:00.000-08:00

What if you've never met me?

What if you boarded my bus in Dallas, and someone pointed to me and said, "That's Ivy! You know... From Thoughts That Keep Me Awake!"? (pretend like I'm famous, or somethin' will you, please?)

What if you said, "Oh, she's not so bad! Actually she's very poised, elegant, sophisticated, and beautiful!" ?

What if the person pointing me out then said, "No, Dorkwad! The one behind that woman. The one with her head bobbing up and down like the fake puppy in the rear window of a car. The one that's drooling AND snoring." ?

Well, anyway, that's not likely to happen (well, the snoring is) cuz I don't think anyone on my bus knows my secret identity. But this morning as I was commuting to work, I looked at the guy sitting in front of me... and this thought occurred to me: "What if I read his blog?"

Which then started a chain of "What If"s in my mind. Which of course I had to put in writing, or else I won't be able to sleep tonight.

I thought of all the people I might look at and make a quick (and possibly wrong) judgment based on their appearance - good, or bad - This thought process started first thing this morning. And I did something a little different today... I pretended every person I ran into was a blogger friend. I looked at a man on the elevator, and thought "That could be Hoss", so I smiled and said hello. Then I continued to do that all day, thinking of many of you. I don't know if it made YOU people feel any better, but it did me. :)

I would start naming more names here, of who I pretended to run into today... but then it would be like the slumber party post and I'd leave people out by accident. So just know that it was YOU. Yes, YOU that I was glad to see today.

To Whoever Put The Tin of Fudge In The Breakroom This Morning:

2005-12-09T06:35:00.000-08:00

I love you.
If I were dieting right now, I'd hate you.
But right now, I love you, and I'm going back for another piece.

Switching Lanes, Sudden Stops, Illegal U-Turns (Basically Just Reckless Blogging)

2005-12-07T21:36:00.000-08:00

I've been teased about randomly jumping from one subject to the next by a certain fellow blogger... you know his kind: The writers who form complete sentences and follow a train of thought to a logical conclusion. Yeah, that type. They put up a post that makes sense and everything ties in together and is extremely well written. Yeah, well... just as many of you can relate to my sudden (and sometimes unexplained) leaps and zigzags from one paragraph to the other. Besides, I've been encouraged by several of you to embrace my inner goober. And she doesn't always signal before changing lanes.

Hey, I wasn't always a big goober. I used to be a little bitty goober. (See my profile picture to the left?) I realize that the photograph displayed now is about 40 years old, but I don't look much like the picture I just took down, either. I often had that pout on my face back then. My dad always told me to pull in my bottom lip before I tripped over it. That was probably around the age when I started to call the turn signal in dad's car: "Tinker". I always begged him to "Turn on the tinker!" Even if we weren't turning. I just liked it because of the sound it made. Do tinkers not make that sound anymore, or is it only pleasing to a child's ear? Hmmm... I wonder.

(OK, now here comes the part where I suddenly swerve to another lane. To save the trouble of having to always post this particular warning, or come up with a good segue... I will from now on signal in the following manner:)

tinker, tinker, tinker, tinker...

Even though I probably shouldn't, I sometimes give rides to strangers, and have for years. I'm betting Lois can relate. It's just that I’m trying to repay all the kindness that has been shown to me when I've been stranded. One time I needed a ride because my car slid on ice and went into the ditch. Another time I was helpless because my car broke down on the highway. But what left me stranded more than anything, was my annoying habit of not refueling the gas tank in my car often enough. As a teenager, I used to run out of gas so often that my boss accused me of trying to wean my car. In my early twenties I had a very fuel-efficient car that would go forever once the low-fuel warning light began to glow. One day the car inexplicably stopped. I insisted that it couldn't be out of gas because the low fuel indicator light hadn't even come on yet! FYI, the bulb behind that light will only last so long.

tinker, tinker, tinker, tinker...

Recently I noticed a guy on the bus trying to get the driver to let him off at an intersection. This is a non-stop express route, and the man was told he would have to wait until we reached the park & ride to leave the bus. Knowing that I would pass that same corner on my way home, and that it was pretty far to walk, I offered the man a ride. When he got in my car he thanked me profusely and told me that the last time he had taken that bus he had asked several people for a ride and even offered money. He said folks were rushing to their cars, slamming and locking their doors like he was a lunatic. I told him he didn't look so scary to me. I asked him how his day had been and he said not so great because the doctor he was seeing at the drug rehab downtown threw him out of his office until he could learn to control his anger. Yeah, I hate it when that happens.

tinker, tinker, tinker, tinker...

My daughter keeps watching the news hoping her school will be closed tomorrow. Can I just say that I am going to laugh my head off if it's not?

Make Up Your Own Title, People, cuz I Can't Think of One...Smell Ya Later, Alligator!

2005-12-05T22:51:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I mentioned the fact that I loved the smell of my brand new shower curtain. Some of you could totally relate. Others of you reveled in the correctness of your theory that I am nuts. (Duh, people, thus the nickname: Goooooberrrrr!) Anyway, that got me to thinking about what I think smells good. Sure, I like the smells of flowers, coffee, and fresh-baked cookies. (Not necessarily at the same time...) But what about the oddball stuff? Or what some people would consider oddball?

I have this friend from Montreal who is one of the coolest people I've ever met. She's the friend I mentioned in a previous post that defended me from the mugger when I was walking around gaping at Times Square in New York City like a ... well, yeah...like a tourist. I will call this friend "Marvelous Montreal" (cuz if I use her real name, she might knock the snot outta me) or how about just MM for short? If you've read my blog long enough, this is the same chick that snatched a bothersome fly out of the air mid-conversation. Awesome, eh? Well a few months ago MM and I had a conversation. Went something like this:

Ivy: "I told BD that I love the smell of lighter fluid. He said, 'That explains a lot.' Then I told him that I also love the smell of gasoline."
MM: "Oh, I love the smell of gasoline, too"
Ivy: "But only regular gas, you can't get that anymore. It's not the same as regular unleaded. I'm talking about real regular gas like when I was a kid. And I used to love it when my grandpa would let me light his cigar, cuz then I got to sniff the lighter."
MM: "We used to sniff the LaPage glue. It was wonderful." (help me out my new Canadian buddies, if I'm spelling that wrong)
Ivy: "Oh good, so I'm not the only strange one out there."
MM: "Also used to lick the salt-blocks they had out in the fields for the cows."
Ivy: "No Way! You did NOT lick a salt block, MM!"
MM: "Sure did. Everybody tried it at least once. The blue ones were the best."
Ivy: "I just fell out of my chair laughing. I do NOT believe you licked a salt block, MM! Did you pick it up to taste it, or bend down and lick it on the ground?"
MM: "Oh, bent down. Just like Old Bossy did. I'm sure after she just finished licking her backside."

So then I called my husband - who had spent every summer growing up on his aunt's farm - to see if he had ever licked a salt block. And he had.

Ivy: "Hey, MM! He did! He did lick the saltblock!"
MM: "Good man."

P.S. I can understand why Blogger spell-check wouldn't recognize words like: "cuz" and "outta", but why the heck would it not recognize the word: SNOT????

I'm an Excellent Driver (Uh Oh...Fifteen Minutes to Wopner...)

2005-12-05T00:38:00.000-08:00

I have only "totaled" two vehicles in my life. (Well... two that weren't my fault. Three if you count the one that was my fault) Don't get all excited, people. It's quite normal for the insurance company to "total" a car that has a value of...Oh, say... $35. Anyway, we're going to stick to the two incidents in which I was not to blame. Save the other story for later, how's that?

The reason these two collisions (separated by almost 10 years) are noteworthy events in my life is because they had at least one common denominator. I tried to figure out what that was. "Why me?", I cried. (sorta like Nancy Kerrigan) These accidents were not only NOT my fault, they were also unavoidable! But really? Were they really unavoidable? I mean, when I try to be honest and truly ask myself: "Could I have avoided these two wrecks?" The answer is yes: I could have worn a bra. It's that simple. Two times in my adult life I left the house without a bra. Two times in my life I had a car accident that (did I mention?) WAS NOT MY FAULT. Coincidence? I think not.

Now you may be wondering how I can recall that on those two particular days I was not wearing my brassiere. Both incidents involved a "quick" trip somewhere. Trips in which I promised myself that I would not even have to leave the car. Therefore, no one would know that I was bra-less. But then tragedy struck. Or in the case of the first incident, a pickup-truck hauling a boat struck. Standing beside the road with all the other drivers involved in this multi-car pile-up, I was self-consciously aware that I had my arms strategically crossed in front of me to hide the fact that this was all my fault because I WASN'T WEARING A BRA.

The second incident was when a semi-truck took the top half of my car off when making his left hand turn while I was at a stop sign. Being another bra-less episode, this caused quite a bit of embarrassment when that cute fireman felt all around my ribs for broken bones sticking out. Yeah, I know... some of you (Jules) would have gotten a cheap thrill out of that, but for me it was humiliating.

I now have a better understanding of why people (rubber-neckers) gawk at car accidents.

***
Totally random question that has NOTHING to do with the above post: Who ( besides me) loves the smell of a brand-new shower curtain?

Turn Out The Lights, The (Virtual Slumber) Party's Over

2005-12-04T00:21:00.000-08:00

WARNING: Major linkage occurs in this post:

A big thank you to my sister for giving me a place to stay for the past few nights. Thanks to all of you who commented on my site. I felt a lot of support, concern, and I think what surprised me the most - understanding. Seeing how much fun my daughter and her aunt Jules had together made me think of a slumber party. They got a big kick out of picking on me - said that I just make it so easy. Then Monty and I stayed up late one night chatting on-line. I told her about how it seemed like a sleep-over. I mentioned that Jules had fallen asleep first that night, so I was obligated to put her bra in the freezer. (Old slumber party ritual, gentlemen. In case you didn't know)

So I created a virtual slumber party in my mind where even the guys could attend, and no one had to worry about running out to buy new pajamas. Here's my recollection of the past few nights.

Wow, what a fun party my sister threw for my baby girl and me. And it wasn't even my birthday! This was not your normal one night slumber party, no. It started Wednesday night and ended this evening. And guests didn't show up in the usual way. Many dropped by via comments, some by email, and some by phone. But each guest was welcome, appreciated, and boy, did we have some fun. And pranks? Yes there were pranks. Food? Yes, and plenty of it. What kind of slumber party would it be otherwise? (By the way, those were some cute jammies you had on, Monty) We had lots of laughs, I got lots of hugs, comfort, and support. LR brought some of her homemade cookies, all the way from British Columbia, and they weren't even crumbled! Poopie brought loads of pecans for us to chow down on. She and my BabyGirl had a blast hiding the shells in my shoes. Thanks, girls ;) Lois brought tons of food from her Home Fires anniversary party, and wrote the lyrics to many songs on the spot, all night long. Jona made us hot tea the night it was cold, and read us excerpts from her nano writing. FTS manned the microwave and made popcorn non-stop. He could barely keep up with our food fights! TSB cracked us up with her cheese bra, and even brought us some of her birthday cake. Peter recited Bush poetry to us until Jules and I ganged up on him and gave him the "tickle torture" I think he kind of liked it ;) Mallory walked around making note of everything she intends to ~~steal~~ inherit from Jules house. Sudiegirl caught us up on current events, and we had a ball drawing mustaches and horns on everyone we found pictured in the newspaper. Carlos kept us entertained with his opinions, and then he snuck out and hung a pair of fake balls under Jules' car as a prank. AKA Monty, otherwise known as the Daily Bitch kept us in stitches. Especially when she dipped Jules hand in warm water and made her pee in the bed. (Hey, that's what you get for being the first one to fall asleep Jules.) Tan Lucy Pez contributed to the food and fun by walking around all night shooting us with her daughter's pez dispensers. Sometimes we even caught some candy in our mouths, but most of them ended up on the floor with FTS' Pop Secret popcorn. Krisco hired a babysitter, dusted off her software director skills, and sabotaged all the perverted blogs as a practical joke. Jamie Dawn walked around the house with marker in hand and wrote things like "Mommy rules" on the walls. Monique's mother passed around graph paper for us use in rearranging Jules' place, but we ended up just folding paper airplanes or playing tic tac toe with it. Dawn showed a little wrath when finding out Jules had no plans to put up a Christmas tree. After all, Jules has no cat to climb up and knock it over. Trucker Bob left his harem long enough to come join in all the fun. Sirs girl came all the way from New Jersey for the party, but we wouldn't let her drink, since she just turned 20 this month ;) Chris came to the party, even though she's been feeling puny. She promised she wasn't contagious. Cheryl brought us some yummy turkey from Seaford, East Sussex and some Christmas crackers. Bubba reminded me that there are worse things than peeing in the wetsuit, but thankfully didn't demonstrate during the slumber party. Penny operated the margarita machine. sauerkraut dropped by to lend support. Mreddie came all the way from South Carolina to say hi. Ellen, Dorothy, Bullet Bow also popped in to the party and started a big pillow fight. Then we all went out and toilet papered the neighbors' houses.

The whole time Hoss mingled among the crowd taking incriminating pictures with his digital camera mumbling something about "finally going to make his pile."

I just wanted to let you all know that I'm back home now, and doing great. Thanks for being there for me.

Now who's gonna help me clean up all that junk off Jules' carpet?

Honey, You're Just a Squished Armadillo On The Road To My Happiness That I Either Need To Go Around Or Over.

2005-12-01T20:28:00.000-08:00

I think that would make a great song title, don't you? I love thinking up song titles. Really long ones. I don't ever actually try to write a song, but hey, sometimes the genius only needs to come up with the fantastic idea. Someone else can take it from there. Yeah. Someone who can write lyrics. You know, make the words rhyme and stuff.

I am doing fine. Super fine. I have family and friends who are helping me get out of a situation that needed to be over a long time ago. It is something that I will write about some day, but I don't feel comfortable posting details at this time. Think of it like a season-ending cliffhanger. A teaser to get you to come back and see me until you find out what's up.

When I get back to my own home (where it's not 31 degrees INSIDE the house) and where I don't have to ~~pay~~ ask Jules to use her computer... I will try to get back on a regular posting schedule.

Mean Kids

2005-11-29T22:01:00.000-08:00

I'm mad at myself for all those times in school when I heard someone being made fun of or picked on and did nothing about it. It always made me feel uncomfortable but I didn't ever say so. I felt like if I didn't add to the bullying, or laugh along with the bully, I wasn't doing anything wrong. But I was. Of course I always felt bad for the victim, but at the same time glad that I wasn't the one being made fun of. I wish I could go back to every one of those instances and have the guts to stand up for that person regardless of the consequences. I tell my kids that when it feels like the whole room is laughing at you, there is at least one person that is feeling your pain, but doesn't have the nerve to draw any of the fire their way.

Sports Nuts

2005-11-29T03:59:00.000-08:00

I stayed up way too late last night on the phone with a couple of sports nuts. You two know who you are! Lots of talk about football. And not the kind that I like to participate in... such as who has the cutest quarterback, or which team's uniforms have the prettiest colors. No, these two - you know what??? I'm just going to rat them out right now: It was the Follow That Star Crew, FTS and TSB. So I just put the phone on speaker, laid it down and made a vain attempt to figure out how to put pictures from my digital camera on the computer. Almost worked, but then I couldn't find the camera. My important mission last night was to show you pictures of my cat, Cowboy George and how someone turned him pink.

So I had no time to write anything original, but I did read something interesting yesterday that has to do with football. Maybe I could learn a little and be able to converse intelligently on the subject someday. Nah, not likely...

Football Fans Help This Guy:
Doug is tired of the same old, same old from football commentators. I suggested he start a list and he can present it to those sports talkin' dudes. In order not to get on Doug's nerves, I propose that each phrase can only be used only once per season. I'm betting he's going to need a pretty long list.

There's a Saying for This... It's Something Like "What Goes Around Comes Around" or maybe "You'll Get What's Coming to You" Help Me Out, People

2005-11-27T06:40:00.000-08:00

My friend and I used to exchange postcards with shocking messages written on the back. It was an attempt to embarrass and amuse each other, and maybe entertain some postal employees en route. I lived in an apartment complex in Houston at the time, ohh... around 20 years ago. The mail carrier neither knew nor cared who I was, and possibly would not have been shocked by anything my friend and I had written. Doubtful anyone on my end even took the time to read the backs of our postcards. But my friend lived in a very small town, where her business was everyone's business. I know. I used to live there. Gossip spread faster than Poopie's fire. I wonder sometimes if the town druggist was hurt that my friend didn't fill her prescriptions in his pharmacy to clear up certain "conditions". Or if the banker wondered why she didn’t come to him for a loan to pay off her drug or gambling debts. The postmaster had to kind of wonder why she would correspond with the likes of me.

Many years later I thought it would be funny to send my husband a postcard that advertised a movie about a porn star. The suggestive message I wrote didn't seem quite as funny when the neighbor from the next street brought it to our door and told us it had been delivered to her by mistake. It became very difficult to look her in the eye at every little league game, football game and PTA meeting after that.

The Incredible (Expanding Waistline) Hulk

2005-11-25T21:34:00.000-08:00

One time I went on a special diet to be able to get back into my favorite slinky silk dress for a friend's wedding. Thanks to raw broccoli, broiled chicken, and control-top pantyhose the dress not only fit me again, I looked pretty darn good! But then I ate so much at the reception that I began to feel like I was going to rip out every seam! I had wedding cake, groom's cake, little sausages, baby quiches, all kinds of salty nuts, cheese, and more! I pictured myself like that comic-book hero transforming into The Hulk. One more piece of wedding cake and my favorite dress would soon be hanging off me in shreds, just exactly like The Hulk! Except The Hulk didn't wear a dress. And I didn't turn green. And I wasn't mad. But apart from those few differences, it was exactly like that.

Probably Shoulda Trained For This

2005-11-24T15:43:00.000-08:00

We have a family tradition for Thanksgiving, that might seem a little unusual to some folks. Well, it can't be that unusual as approximately 23,000 other Dallas area residents do this with us. We get up early every year on Thankgiving morning and run in the Dallas YMCA Turkey Trot. Being our sixth year to participate, you would think that I would have trained for this. Well I did, sort of. Just not in the way that would have prevented me from stiffening up on the ride home and requiring a forklift to get me out of the car. The Trot offers two courses: a 3-mile fun run/walk (which my husband and daughter participate in), and an 8-mile course for serious runners and people who want a little bigger challenge. Oh yeah, and my son and me.

A lot of runners have certain rituals that they do before any race. Some pray, some jog to warm up, some stretch. My son and I have one that is slightly different, but still a ritual. It has become a tradition for me to ask him as many as 14,000 times "Are you sure you wouldn't rather run the 3-mile course this year?" This questioning ritual can begin as early as June. Mitch has his part down, and he never seems to tire of it. His response is always, "Mom, we run the 8-mile course, it's what we do."

Each year is a little different, as far as our performance and running time goes. The first one I was very nervous because I had never run that far in my life, and honestly didn't know if I could. One year, my son got some sort of cramp or knee pain within the first mile or two, (probably beat up from a football game) and we walked a lot of the way. There were a few years that I wanted to set a personal record, and Mitch coached me the whole way, pushing and ~~nagging~~ encouraging me. This year after massive weight gain and (did I mention?) too little training... I was back to being iffy about the distance, and doing a lot of walking.

But here is what remains constant, no matter what the weather, or our physical condition: I enjoy every moment of it. Because there is nothing like having "alone time" with one of your kids. To have that kind of time together, uninterrupted, undistracted, undivided attention is (as the credit card commercials say) PRICELESS. I can envision us some day (not too soon, sweetie, I'm talking years) taking turns pushing my grandbaby in a jogging stroller on Thanksgiving morning.

There were two very important elements missing in this, our sixth year. First and most important was my darling daughter. She had been invited to Thanksgiving in Oklahoma by her best friend. In fact, the first thing Mitch said when we picked him up from his apartment was, "Where's the Rat?" So sweetie, when you read this, you were missed. A lot. Second big thing missing was our annual trip to The Black Eyed Pea for lunch. Lots of reasons, one was that Mitch had a pretty hectic schedule of events to attend with his adorable girlfriend, and Mallory was out of town, and we just didn't want to spend the money.

I wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving, unless you're in another country, then I wish you a very nice and wonderful day.

P.S. Eating out is definitely back on next year, no matter what. I burned my finger pulling the stuffing out of the microwave. Yes, I know it's called STOVE TOP, but screw Martha Stewart and her made from scratch stuff, I took the easy way out.