The Accidental Anecdote

Directions...

2007-09-20T19:24:00.000-04:00

You can find me, all my previous posts and all those yet to come over at:

http://accidentalanecdote.com

Goodbye, Blogger, it's been fun!

A Soup Day

2007-09-20T08:18:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, it finally felt like the weather was changing. The hot summer days of Florida, slipping away, even just temporarily, and leaving us with a mere high of 84 degrees. A steady drizzle that lasted the entire day, sealing the deal. The sun rising, lazily, long after I got out of bed.

Definitely, a day where a crock of homemade New England clam chowder served with chunks of fresh, crusty bread was in order. A day where it would have been just as nice to stay inside, instead of being out running around.

The clincher to the changing season? A phone call to my Mom in Canada, in which she informed me that they got their first snowfall.

Yes, folks, that's right. It snowed on September 19th, where I used to live.

Remind me, again, why I like it here??

Hahahaha! Some things, I will just never, EVER miss.

Tune in tomorrow, when hopefully you will see the launch of the redesign of this little space of mine.

I am very excited to share the new look with you all!

Ahoy, Me Hearty!

2007-09-19T08:09:00.000-04:00

It is International Talk Like A Pirate Day! So, upon meeting and greeting people, be sure you do it with a resounding 'Ahoy!', will you? Because after all, you sure cannot chance offending any of your Pastafarian acquaintances. To do so would be totally politically incorrect. You dare not take the chance at offending their Spaghedeity, or you may face judgement from those oodles and oodles of noodles!

In fact, in honor of this oh so important day, I believe I need to share with you the eight "I'd really rather you didn't's"

The Eight "I'd Really Rather You Didnt's"
1.) I'd really rather you didn't act like a sanctimonious holier-than-thou ass when describing my noodly goodness. If some people don't believe in me, that's okay. Really, I'm not that vain. Besides, this isn't about them so don't change the subject.
2.) I'd really rather you didn't use my existence as a means to oppress, subjugate, punish, eviscerate, and/or, you know, be mean to others. I don't require sacrifices, and purity is for drinking water, not people.
3.) I'd really rather you didn't judge people for the way they look, or how they dress, or the way they talk, or, well, just play nice, Okay? Oh, and get this into your thick heads: woman = person. man = person. Samey = Samey. One is not better than the other, unless we're talking about fashion and I'm sorry, but I gave that to women and some guys who know the difference between teal and fuchsia.
4.) I'd really rather you didn't indulge in conduct that offends yourself, or your willing, consenting partner of legal age AND mental maturity. As for anyone who might object, I think the expression is go f*** yourself, unless they find that offensive in which case they can turn off the TV for once and go for a walk for a change.
5.) I'd really rather you didn't challenge the bigoted, misogynistic, hateful ideas of others on an empty stomach. Eat, then go after the bitches.
6.) I'd really rather you didn't build multi million-dollar churches/temples/mosques/shrines to my noodly goodness when the money could be better spent (take your pick):
Ending poverty
Curing diseases
Living in peace, loving with passion, and lowering the cost of cable.
I might be a complex-carbohydrate omniscient being, but I enjoy the simple things in life. I ought to know. I AM the creator.
7.) I'd really rather you didn't go around telling people I talk to you. You're not that interesting. Get over yourself. And I told you to love your fellow man, can't you take a hint?
8.) I'd really rather you didn't do unto others as you would have them do unto you if you are into, um, stuff that uses a lot of leather/lubricant/Las Vegas. If the other person is into it, however (pursuant to #4), then have at it, take pictures, and for the love of Mike, wear a CONDOM! Honestly, it's a piece of rubber. If I didn't want it to feel good when you did it I would have added spikes, or something.

That's it. I totally need to get this sticker for my car.

Now go forth and honor your spaghetti, wont you?

Incompetently Competent.

2007-09-18T09:26:00.000-04:00

I have always prided myself on not being one of 'those girls'. You know the ones, they bat their eyelashes and sigh when faced with things like a check engine light and then turn and ask the nearest big, strong man for help.

Yeah, well that shit just doesn't fly, with me. I have made it my policy to not only check the oil, but be able to change it, if required. To change a flat tire rather than wait for a tow truck. Hell, one of my summer jobs as a teenager was at a service station where I not only performed regular oil changes and did tire repairs, but dabbled in the art of the tune-up. Granted, I was merely a lackey for whoever was actually doing the mechanical work, but still, I learned. And I took pride in it.

Most home repair is not something that I balk at. I read the directions and I tackle it. Thankfully, thus far, it has worked out for me. Until this past weekend...

Why is it that no matter what, when something was lodged in the garbage disposal, I am rendered entirely useless? I absolutely cannot bring myself to stick my hand down into that unknown abyss and find out what the problem is. I just cant do it.

It's a good thing that my very own big strong man is home now!

As his punishment for leaving me in that situation, I made him take me golfing yesterday..and then out to dinner.

Remind me to tell him about the garbage disposal tonight when he gets home from work, will you?

Let Me Apologize, In Advance.

2007-09-14T08:45:00.000-04:00

1. I am seriously behind the times and trend in my start of this 100 things.
2. I have no doubt that the majority of the people reading this don't really give a shit about what is on here.
3. I am prone to extreme bouts of anxiety.
4. I have learned how to control my anxiety--or talk myself down, if you will.
5. I learned after trying some prescription drugs that -really- messed me up, rather than help me.
6. I very painfully weaned myself off of effexor.
7. I wouldn't recommend anyone else do the same.
8. I absolutely adore my husband, even when he is a huge pain in my ass.
9. He is usually a HUGE pain in my ass.
10. He makes me laugh as no one else can and is truly my best friend, as cliche as that sounds.
11. The only other person I know whose sense of humor is nearly as honed is my sons.
12. There is a lot of laughter in our house.
13. I believe it is what keeps us the most together.
14. I very rarely have to castigate my son about anything.
15. He is an extremely thoughtful and caring young man.
16. I once worried about his health because he was always so hungry when he was a little boy.
17. I learned, however, he was going without his lunch as he would put it on the table for the 'poor kids' instead of eating it.
18. I started packing two lunches.
19. This is entirely reflective of his nature.
20. I'm pretty proud of the little bastard.
21. I have always had very curly, auburn hair that leans to red.
22. I stake my claim in the world of the red-heads, even though it probably isn't quite mine.
23. I have the fabled fiery temper belonging to the group--short fuse, quick to burn and instant forgiveness.
24. I have the mouth of a truck driver, much to the chagrin of some.
25. I don't see what the big deal about it is. I know when to be a lady, but really, is there any word more expressive than 'fuck'?
26. I kind of love that word.
27. I am immensely pleased with my lot in life.
28. I am perfectly content being a wife and a mother, although I loved working too.
29. I am really looking forward to continuing my education and getting back into the workforce.
30. I have the distinct advantage of not being pressured, as I wont be doing it for the income.
31. This is an extremely lucky place to be.
32. I am aware of exactly how blessed and fortunate I am.
33. Growing up, I was the most social creature on the planet.
34. Grown up, I am far more reclusive and relish in silence.
35. Solitude is bliss to me, most days.
36. My need for socialization is met quite nicely through interaction with total strangers.
37. I am very much of the mindset that a couple true friends are far more valuable than many acquaintances.
38. I am not afraid to search out the new, true friends.
39. I was once, as a pedestrian, hit by a very big, fast moving truck.
40. I should probably have died, but was spared, with relatively few injuries.
41. I have always wondered why I didn't die that day, what purpose I have in life.
42. I worry that I am not living out that purpose--that I missed the big flashing neon direction sign somewhere along the way.
43. I am afraid of the dark.
44. I don't buy into women's lib.
45. I am perfectly okay with that and don't feel the need to justify.
46. I do not vote.
47. I do not have the right to vote, in this Country.
48. Even while living in Canada, I only ever voted once.
49. I scratch my head now, as to why.
50. There is a certain freedom in begging off any political opinion.
51. I would LOVE to be able to vote in this Country.
52. I am doing everything in my power to ensure that will happen one day.
53. I long to be an American Citizen.
54. Not because of any disloyalty to my own Country.
55. I decided as a child, upon watching the Neal Diamond movie 'The Jazz Singer', that I wanted to live here when I grew up.
56. I was eleven.
57. The clincher was the song 'America'.
58. I really dig Neil Diamond, even today.
59. My musical taste is varied.
60. And really, kind of shitty.
61. For the most part music equates to noise, for me.
62. I do not like noise.
63. At all.
64. I love to cook.
65. I also love to eat.
66. I have dieted forever, as a result of this love and some other things.
67. My favorite foods are salty.
68. I would take savory over sweet, any day of the week.
69. I have no thyroid.
70. I had it surgically removed, several years ago.
71. I am artistically inclined and love to draw and paint.
72. I have done neither in years.
73. Mostly due to laziness, partly due to life getting in the way.
74. I fear disappointing people.
75. I have been known to people please to a fault.
76. Often times at the expense of my own well-being.
77. I have grown out of this, to a degree.
78. I have an exceptionally hard time saying no.
79. It pains me to do so, but I do.
80. I have learned that not to means suffering, in the long run.
81. My one true regret in life is being such an asshole as a student.
82. I spent far too much time doing anything BUT studying.
83. I wish I could have a do-over.
84. I have always regretted not having more children.
85. My husband has not.
86. It was oft a point of consternation in our house.
87. I came to terms with it.
88. He is glad.
89. His family is not.
90. Our son is his greatest source of pride. He parents him by choice, not by birthright, as we were a package deal. This speaks volumes about his character and I am pretty proud of that bastard, as well.
91. I am not fond of comedy. Mostly, it frustrates me. Especially slapstick.
92. I have often been told I need to smile more.
93. That shocks me every time, as I believe I am a pretty happy person.
94. I am a morning person.
95. I need 8 hours of sleep each night.
96. I do not sleep well.
97. I pee more than anyone I know. Like 4 times each night, usually, and countless times throughout the day.
98. I imagine you are very pleased that I shared that with you.
99. Let me top that one by sharing that I have IBS--pretty severely.
100. I can't believe I actually made it to 100.
101. I cannot believe you are still reading this. :-P

You Have Three Wishes...

2007-09-13T12:49:00.000-04:00

You know the scenario..

You happen upon a magical lantern and after rubbing some imagined smudge off of it, a genie appears and is ready to grant you three wishes.

Today, I give you two of my husbands wishes, magically granted. Or maybe even all three.

Imagine, if you will, the singing of angelic choirs in heaven as the clouds part and upon a shining beam descends this, his first wish:

Guaranteed only to be understood by my Canadian readers, eh.

His second wish:

To: "The Hubs"
From: IASCA Worldwide, Inc.
Re: 2007 IASCA Finals Invitation

Dear "The Hubs";

Congratulations! You have qualified to compete at, and you are invited to participate in, the 2007 IASCA World Finals to be held in conjunction with the NOPI Nationals in Atlanta, Georgia!

The IASCA Finals will take place on September 15th & 16th, 2007 at the Atlanta Motor Speedway in Hampton, Georgia. You can check in to the event starting Friday, September 14 th at 5:00 pm.

Yada, yada, yada, technical details and other random shit, blah blah blah.

His Third Wish:

Me: Hon, I think you should plan to make the trip solo--you never get away on your own and I think you should just go and have a great time.

Him: SOLD!

----------------

I even promised him I wouldn't ever bitch about the noise at a show, ever again. I made this promise in conjunction with my solemnly swearing that I would never again attend one, as this past weekend we attended the State finals; where he took first place--the big gallump. Apparently his car is just sounding that nicely. To my not-so-musically inclined ears, however, I can only hear noise. It isn't even insufferable when you listen to the people that compete in the sound quality classes, as The Hubs does. It can even be quite pleasant. Its when you get the Bass-Boxing and IDBL competitions that it becomes physically painful. You know it is too much when windows are breaking and shit is flying off of cars because of the vibrations. To me, that doesn't take skill, it just takes more money than brains. And no, that wasn't bitching, that was an observation.

ME: Not just your average Jane-housewife! I even detailed his car and took it for an oil change for him, in anticipation of the 'big one'.

Ah, the peace and quiet of not being there--I cannot wait.

And neither can he, I'm sure.

Ch-Ch-Changes..

2007-09-12T10:57:00.000-04:00

Well, I have decided to make the leap from Blogger to Wordpress and my own domain, so watch in the next little while for some significant changes to this blog, its layout and its content.

Every so often, I sit back and wonder if I will bother continuing here. While I do not keep track of stats, readership, hits and the like; I know that I have very few readers in the grand scheme of things, but the ones I have I kind of like having. The Accidental Anecdote is a pretty intimate place that I started writing at in order to update my family and friends about our lives here in the Sunshine State and as a means of compensating for my craptastic manner of keeping in touch with family and friends in the North Country.

I have decided not only to keep plugging along at it, but to try and take it in a slightly more involved direction.

For this, I'd love it if you would give me some feedback!

A few things I am considering adding to the site are:

Recipes: My own and those of my family and friends that decide they would like to contribute. As I am a stay at home Mom and I love to cook, I like the idea of bringing you, the reader, ideas and easy to follow, illustrated recipes for quick, (mostly)healthful meals that start from scratch, using everday ingredients and finish with satisfaction from all. Perhaps a 'Dining with Dee' section?

Movie Reviews: The Family G does nothing, if not watch a bajillion movies (Note to self: get out more) which we do usually two or three times a week. And since we purchase the vast majority of movies we watch and are not limited by due dates, perhaps I can share the experiences with you as we go along, helping you to skip the really craptastic ones and finding something worthy. Cheesy title of that segment? 'DEE-VD Do's and Don'ts'! Uhm, yeah--gay.

My favorite websites and blogs: Would you like to see where I pass the time on this crazy box? Find some more blogs to add to your daily reading experience? Do something other than pick at your bellybutton lint while bored stiff?

Golf Tips and Tricks: Bahahahahaha! I jest! About the only tip I can give you is keep on keepin on; when it comes to golf. But you people that nay-say, you just have No. Idea. how awesome golf is.

Florida's Best Kept Secrets: Appealing to those planning to vacay here, a rundown Florida's best kept dining secrets, road trips, parks, things to do, etc.

At any rate, I think you get the idea. What say you? Would you like to see more content? Would you like to see me just hush up and float off in a sea of zeros and ones? Please, let me know!

Also, I'd love it if you would take a minute just to say hello, if you have never done so; or hell, even if you have. Maybe I am really just entirely disillusioned and I dont HAVE ANY readers, at all!

I DARE You

2007-09-11T18:51:00.000-04:00

To get through this without shedding a tear.

OH. MY. GOD.

*sob*

Howdy, Y'all!

2007-09-11T09:04:00.001-04:00

Don't ask me where that came from, just run with it. Maybe it is my tribute to The South or something...hell if I know.

So, Friday I had the pleasure of meeting someone from the blogosphere, the lovely Miss Britt, who has recently relocated to Florida from Iowa. We met for lunch at Tijuana Flats because it was entirely imperative that I prove to Britt that the ever elusive traditional taco salad exists here in Florida. Traditional as in sans black beans and rice, which while both have merit in Cuban fare, just do NOT belong in your very Americanized taco salad. Suffice it to say I achieved my goal and Britt can now rest easy, being the low-carb gal that she is.

It was a great time and I venture to say that it was the beginnings of a very fun friendship, which is totally amazing. Britt is a very spirited little sprite of a thing, with her outrageously curly blond locks, piercing blue eyes, quick laughter and sometimes caustic but always funny sense of humor. I am so pleased we decided to go for lunch, as nervous as I initially was about it.

Britt also brought her dear friend and new boss, avitable, and much lively conversation and fun ensued. avitable served as a great rain shield, as it was important that we sat outside, Florida weather be damned! Also, avitable comes with a disclaimer. Do NOT go visit his site if you are of the faint of heart. The man is funny as hell and also extremely shocking. Trust me, his tagline reads: Tact is for pussies. Mother? Father? Auntie Lynne? This is solely directed at you guys. Really. Don't say I didn't warn you, not even avitable's family will read his site and he may correct me if I am wrong, but I believe his father requested that he change his url so as not to be in any way associated with it. The US Gov't was going for shock and awe when they invaded Iraq. They should have taken lessons from avitable.

Speaking of shock and awe, lets not forget what day today is, the sixth anniversary of 9/11. I hope that you guys, like I do, remember what was lost and why this Country and its supporters are fighting over there. Take a moment to reflect on things, and be thankful for your freedoms, they come at a great price. While I may not support the fact that we are still in Iraq, the troops will always have my undying support. Some people will say that it is impossible to support the troops if you do not support the war effort, and to that I say bullshit.

And that is pretty much all I have to say about that.

On a decidedly more disgusting note, and something you probably could have pleasantly lived your life blissfully unaware of, the smell of flesh being cauterized is EXACTLY the smell of corn chips. Trust me on that one. I found out yesterday, when I sat holding The Prodigy's hand as he had a small surgery done on his foot that required exactly that. Lets ponder for a moment how pleasant it was for both of us, him lying there while having the procedure and me standing there with full view of his bleeding, open wound as the Dr. cauterized it and smoke slowly filled the room as the ventilation system suddenly stopped.

Frito's, anyone?

Yeah--never again, thanks!

(Oh, HEY! Mom and Dad? You'd really, REALLY, like Britt. She is as bratty as I am and guess what? She is a churchgoing catholic girl! I'm inspired! See, it wasn't your incessant nagging..I mean, gentle guidance!)

(Britt? my parents are forever indebted and would like to buy you presents.)

For The Love Of Technology...

2007-09-07T08:30:00.000-04:00

In the course of conversation with a very good friend of mine, I had a head scratching moment which, while not rare in and of itself, gave me pause. I had made reference to playing a game of scrabble with another mutual friend in Facebook, of all places. The friend I was speaking to mentioned signing up for Facebook but admitted he would probably never update and it got us talking.

Flashback to 1970: You pick up the phone, carry on a two minute conversation and a plethora of information was conveyed between two parties. You exchange niceties and end the phone call.

Fast forward 37 years: Two people spend five minutes texting each other back and forth on their cell phones and the sum total of information passed is: LOL. In some cases, that is the sum total of the capabilities of both parties involved, which is pretty sad; really. Where does it leave us, when these new modern advances make things less efficient? When the advances in modern technology also do away with the banalities formerly known as respect, manners and being polite, or the ability to carry on a conversation? Are they really advances or all that advantageous at all?

Don't even get me started on bluetooth headsets, alright? NOTHING pisses me off more than those. Do people not realize how insane it is to walk around with that thing attached to your ear and looking like you are talking to yourself? Is what they have to say really all that important that it cannot wait, say, until they are done using the bathroom at their favorite restaurant?

I don't know, it just made me stop and think--in the fast pace of life today, what is really being lost? What are our future generations missing out on, when there is so very little human interaction necessary and people are all wrapped up in their own transfer of data instead of in conversing with an actual human being?

Now, having said all that, I really should admit that both the friend I was talking to last night and our mutual friend were people I met online. People I like and admire very much that I would not have ever met without the very advances I question, so I am not anti-technology by any means...it's just odd to me sometimes.

I could probably also mention that today I am having lunch with another person I met online, a fellow blogger that has recently moved to Central Florida...so stay tuned; I'll introduce you to her when I get home!

Things that make you go hmmmn...

Noteworthy...

2007-09-05T13:00:00.001-04:00

This Sunday past, I awoke to breakfast in bed. No, it was not a donut and a cuppa Joe from the local Dunkin Donuts, The Hubs made coffee and made breakfast--a rather lovely omelet, actually. Truly, a banner day in itself. It marks, literally, the second time he has cooked since we started dating. No, really. Am still sorta looking around waiting to be let in on the truth of the matter.

A week ago Monday, The Prodigy turned Fourteen. FOURTEEN. This is where most bloggerly types would take the time to write an ode to their firstborn, exalting all of their praises and pride for the world to see. But since when God was handing out Sappy, I heard NAPPY and went and got in the line for this curly ass red hair, he doesn't get shit. That, and the fact is, I am still in denial about how close he is to the legal driving age...and all the other legal ages that follow. Suffice it to say that I am most proud of the fact that he seems very grounded, together and wise beyond his years. Certainly, leaps and bounds past where I was at his age.

It's Official!

2007-09-04T15:04:00.000-04:00

I am officially a college student.

I am officially twice as old as the average college student.

The college will officially charge me three times the tuition per credit hour if I am unable to provide proof of VISA status and therefore, residency, prior to commencement of classes.

I desire to be registered for four classes in the very, very near future.

The USCIS is officially still posting a backlog of five months processing time for our required, and already paid for, service.

All of this makes me six times as likely to want to punch some Government worker in the face than your average Joe.

See, I can count--who needs college, anyway!

The Sunday Breakfast Smackdown--Or Brackfiss, Depending On Where You Hang Your Hat...

2007-08-27T09:03:00.000-04:00

Required Ingredients:

1 lb. Jimmy Dean HOT Sausage
1/2 c. Finely Chopped Onion
2 c. Grated Sharp Cheddar
1 pkg. Pillsbury French Bread Loaf
1 Egg, Lightly Beaten

preheat Oven to 350 degrees

Brown Sausage meat and onion in heavy bottomed skillet, drain fat. Let sausage cool. Unroll Pillsbury bread dough onto wax paper that has been lightly sprayed with PAM cooking spray. Layer crumbled sausage meat and onion on top of bread dough, leaving a 1 inch perimeter on all sides. Top sausage meat with cheddar cheese. Roll as you would a jelly roll, tucking the ends in as you go. Place seam side down on heavy cookie sheet and brush with lightly beaten egg. Bake in 350 degree oven for 15-18 minutes or until bread is toasty brown and sounds hollow when knocked upon.

Let sit for 5 minutes, slice and serve and you have yourself a mean sausage bread that is a hit with one and all. Or, you can take it up to the next level, as I did for brunch yesterday for The Hubs--

Slice 4 pieces of sausage bread about as thick as a hearty piece of toast and place on plate, forming circles of two slices each. Top each slice with a nice fat, freshly fried egg that has been peppered liberally with fresh ground black pepper.

Beckon whomever you have prepared this for to the table, in my case, calling The Hubs repeatedly in from the garage where he was working on his GODFORSAKEN, BLEEPITY-BLEEP-BLEEPIN CAR STEREO instead of out golfing with his beloved and never demanding, always aiming to please wife--ahem--wha? Oh, yes--breakfast.

As I was saying, beckon your crowd to the table and serve alongside some freshly sliced tomatoes, a cuppa joe, some freshly squeezed OJ or whatever accoutrement's you so desire.

Let me show you The Hubs preferred method of consumption. He takes this:

Oh, don't be shy. Come a little closer so you can actually SEE it!

Closer...

Yummy, right? Mmm-mmm-good. Anyways, he takes that and douses it liberally with Tabasco sauce, like this:

I don't know how the hell he doesn't just torch his mouth to smithereens, but he is wont to dump Tabasco sauce all over everything. I've stopped taking it personally. Since it was definitely noon somewhere, even if not in OUR time zone, he accompanied his brunch with this:

And that, my friends, is what I have dubbed "Rednecks Benedict".

Try it, I can pretty much guarantee it will go down in history as a favorite. There is something very satisfying about it.

Considering how unfriendly it is to the old ticker though, I wouldn't make it TOO often!

One Day...

2007-08-24T14:38:00.000-04:00

One day, perhaps, I will stop bringing home the proverbial bird with the broken wing, believing that with enough love, care and attention; I can fix it.

One day, I may realize that I cannot be the panacea for the World's problems.

One day, I may have a better understanding of the human condition.

One day, I may not be overly shocked, when people take advantage.

However, I will never allow myself for even one day, to become so jaded as to not be willing to lend a helping hand.

Holla At A Playah!

2007-08-23T17:23:00.001-04:00

As you have all heard me lament on occasion, The Hubs is a bit of a car audio aficianado--and it is the bane of my existence. (Not really, but shhh--don't tell him, I don't want him to get any bright ideas about his next project. Capisce? Good. Thanks.) Well, as it turns out, he has been invited to attend the national finals in Atlanta, Georgia and compete, yet again, for something or other. I'm sure he told me what it was, but what I heard was something like this: "I am going to be attending the IASCA national finals yada-yada-yada-blah-blah-blah." I swear, he sounded JUST like the adults on the Peanuts cartoons. For real.

At any rate, I digress. He and I recently attended a more local show where I was given prime example of how much self control he actually exercises in his decisions about equipment purchases. Which loosely translates to what arguments he decides to have with yours truly, as evidenced by the photos I am about to share with you today. I am just going to show you the paraphernalia of one person competing in the same show, but I think you will see what I mean..

The guy was driving this:

And towing this:

Which also contained this:

And because there was only one of him and more than one of his rides to show, he had his friend drive this for him:

I was being stealthy in the capturing of photos so I was unable to ask him to properly close the car door but you can see that it had a whole lotta this just the same:

And then his other buddy drove this out there for him:

All of which he ensured happened in a timely manner by frequently checking this:

And that, my friends, is a WHOLE LOTTA BLING.

Given that the GUY I am referring to had two very feminine sounding names which may *cough totally were cough* or may not have been Cherry and Courtney or some variation of that order of those two very names, I am sort of inclined to believe that perhaps he may have been overcompensating just a wee bit. How about you?

Keepin' It real, Yo-

2007-08-17T07:26:00.000-04:00

I know it has been a while since I have shared with you any of the great Leesterisms, so today I give you this gem. This is yesterday morning's email correspondence.

Me: Most awesomely awesome dream last night ever--I dreamt I was doing my orientation for my new job, as a nurse. I had already graduated and was working. It made it seem very real to me and I woke up feeling very positive today.

The Hubs: WELL, NURSE DREAMS ARE COOL, I'VE HAD A COUPLE MYSELF !

Me: Dude...you are SUCH an asshole.

The Hubs: I'm not an asshole

Me: Dude, I'm so sharing with you my important dream of the future and you have to make it about sex dreams. That makes you an asshole.

The Hubs: Yes, it was very opportunistic.

Me: Hahaha--you ass. Especially when your nurse dreams have had absolutely NOTHING to do with me. Ya shmuck.

The Hubs: You know you love me.

A State of Unease..

2007-08-16T09:05:00.001-04:00

Mah Gawd I love me the Herriken Season--Y'all just cannut unnerstand, less ya bin through a couple, ah reckun...

I have either been in Florida for way too long or not nearly long enough, when I am more than just a little disappointed upon the realization that DEAN will have very little bearing on us.

There is something oddly festive about hurricane preparations--a certain air of everyone banding together against the perils of nature. Rallying as one, regardless of race, creed or station in life. And damn, the quest for plywood, generators and bottled water--that is a carnival atmosphere in and of itself. You should be so lucky to one day witness the art of 'Hunkerin Down'!

Whooo-Heee dawg and lawsie mercy! It's fixin to get a bit wild in and around the Sunshine State!

It just had better not fugg with mah golf game.

Incompetence, Incontinence And Other Abject Lessons

2007-08-15T09:33:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I wonder what I may have done in order to have the cosmos sit back and laugh at me the way they do at times. Let me share with you so that you will truly understand just how..

As I stated in a previous post, my dear little Oldilocks has found herself a gentleman friend. And while this means that she is far more entertained and less bored and despondent than she previously was, it also means that I am constantly putting out these little fires every time I go to visit. Such as trying to convince one rather dirty old man (**hereafter known as DOM) that while she is more than interested in spending time with him and being his companion, she is not interested in *ahem* relations of that variety as she is not available to marry him--and without doing so, the other is just an impossibility.

After all, she is a lady--and ladies just do not. Especially thrice married and widowed ladies of the archaic variety.

Monday saw me forced to sit down with both of them and try and explain this to him, as Oldilocks was in a terrible state of misery about his advances since we had last spoken. It turns out that **DOM is of the fast-fingered groping variety, regardless of time and place. Picture, if you will (although trust me, it is kinda painful to picture, let alone witness), him giving the Oldilocks the drive-by grope as she shuffles by his lunch table on the way to her own. Suffice it to say that she was mortified. And she cannot really move fast enough to out wile him, walker-bound that she is. So, it fell to me to try and make her wishes known, as she is somewhat tongue-tied after her strokes and DOM just cannot seem to understand what NO means.

Well, imagine my discomfort when DOM looked me in the eye (as well as he is able to through his cataracts) and informed me that while he could understand what I was saying, he was a man, with certain needs, and that if he and Oldilocks chose to act upon impulse; who was I to dictate otherwise? I informed him that Oldilocks did not wish to take it any further than companionship and the occasional hand-pat and kiss on the cheek and he got a little indignant, informing me that he had no intention to just attack her--after all, they call it a love affair, not a hate affair.

All well and good, right? So says you--but put yourself in MY shoes, when his entire spiel was accompanied by the loudest, longest most vile passing of gas that he was seemingly unaware of.

How the hell was I to keep a straight face and not insult the man??

I am not entirely convinced that that ploy wasn't number one in his arsenal of dealing with being shot down.

Or would that be SHAT down?

My mother claims it is good practice for when they are aged and doddering and I am forced to take care of them.

To this I say nay, it'll be antifreeze kool-aid for the pair of them.

Welcome to my life. Oy Vey!

At A Snails Pace..

2007-08-14T10:18:00.000-04:00

Now having the ability to follow up on our ongoing non immigrant VISA application with the USCIS.GOV website, I am in the habit of checking pretty much daily to see where we stand in our quest to reside in the lovely State of Florida for another two years. I'm sure you will be as pleased to know as I was that they are currently working on petitions filed on April 02, 2007.

Who knew then, that the lovely State of Florida could also be known as the lovely State of Purgatory?

Where we sit and wait...

and wait...

and wait...

Why should this matter, right? We can be here during the processing time, we can continue life as normal, we can live as we always do--

WITH A HUGE MONKEY ON OUR BACKS!

Sometimes I just have to shake my head at how ludicrous it all is. That, and it really bothers me more than I can explain not to have a valid drivers license. Just one of those things, I guess.

*grumble grumble*

Ah, the quest to live permanently in the land of opportunities.

---------

In other happenings, a question for you.. Does my desire to purchase one of these Bullet Proof Back Packs for The prodigy make me overly paranoid, or smart? What would you, as a parent do?

Young At Heart.

2007-08-10T08:33:00.000-04:00

I know I said I would regale you with tales of Oldilocks yesterday but I was out. Golfing. That makes 36 holes so far this week, with another 36 minimum intended over the weekend. Ah yes, 'tis the life. Yesterday kind of kicked my arse though, considering it was something like 110 degrees with the heat index. H-O-T hot! But still, so very much fun.

At any rate--For those that do not know, Oldilocks is now permanently in an assisted living place. She is simply unable to live on her own without constant care. She was initially quite displeased by this because, as I'm sure we can all imagine, the total loss of independence after some 96 years has got to sting.

BUT!

But suddenly, little miss Oldilocks doesn't have time for visits from the likes of me or her son, because little miss thang has got herself a suitor! I know, right? It just cracks me up to see her talk of him. She actually gets somewhat flustered and blushes when she talks about him, about how nice he is and how very much she enjoys spending time with him.

I just know that each of you reading this thought to yourselves something along the lines of "Aww, how sweet, she is happy.", or "Aww, how cute.". That was my initial reaction too, actually.

Yeah, well that lasted all of about 5 minutes, until she informed me that her beau was sure to tell her that he could still 'have his little soldier stand at attention'.

*cough*

OLDILOCKS!!!

Dudes--that is just way too much for me to handle, even when you disregard entirely the somewhat disturbing visual that immediately comes to mind...I mean seriously. that is A LOT of wrinkles, people! I very nearly choked on my coffee when she said it, but couldn't refrain from laughing uproariously. Oldilocks, well she giggled like a school girl.

So, imagine my surprise the next day when upon arriving to visit her, I was asked by the staff to speak to both Oldilocks and her Beau about appropriate behavior as one of the caregivers happened upon Oldilocks in various stages of undress with her beau in her apartment.

Uhmmm....yeah. So, now how do I deal with this, when really, I say if you have such limited time left on the earth why not LIVE? We all know she is going to die, she may as well 'die happy' as the old adage goes. Also, when did I become parent to a 96 year old woman, if you please? Oh. My. God.

Seriously though, there are rumblings of marriage from both of them, which REALLY probably wouldn't be a good idea for various reasons and I am currently trying to talk her out of the idea by telling her to just go ahead and live in sin (Hello, convince someone old school to do that, it goes against the grain of everything they believe in, I know, and how.) and while that is a mixed bag, it would be easier than trying to deal with her family if she were to get married...they'd probably try and have her declared incompetent. For reasons that only those with some serious cash understand, when they see such holdings at risk.

I get that, I do...but I think it more important for her to live her last time here on earth knowing happiness, feeling loved and having companionship. I've watched her be lonely for too long and frankly, no amount of money is worth it.

Now, I bet you didn't guess that I would regale you with tales of errrmmm--tail!

*snarfle*

Have a good weekend. You can find me on the links.

Happy Hump Day!

2007-08-08T08:37:00.000-04:00

If my husband were here and I had said that, his ears would perk up--because he is like that.

"Hump? Did someone say hump? Honey? Baby? Hubba, hubba!"

Yeah, kind of like a dog. Good thing he is cute, right?

So, while I have been somewhat removed from my little bloggadicio where I sometimes braggadocio, and kind of quiet all around, which believe me and anyone you may ask who knows me, goes entirely against the norm, I have returned.

See, the thing is, when I am under any amount of stress I tend to internalize it and get rather cerebral. As I have mentioned before, to give voice to the things I am concerned about somehow gives them more validity in my own mind and can make them seem all-encompassing. So I make these little concessions with myself and take on a no talk-no worry policy. It is what works, for me. It's how I keep things tolerable.

Well, NO MORE! Today, I celebrate the rather large deduction from our checking account which symbolizes the INS' acceptance of our current quest for VISA renewal and I celebrate the fact that in all likelihood and barring natural disaster, terrorism or an act of God (kinda sounds like the disclaimers on our insurance policy), we will be allowed to stay here for another two years.

Can I get a collective sigh of relief here people? Please?

*Does the happy dance*

Wooty-woot-woot.

So, while the system is still completely broken and entirely messed up and until we receive the final absolute authorization and as such remain unlicensed drivers and totally on the wrong side of the law daily as a result of it, I CARE NOT!

I get to friggin relax! I can finally unclench my teeth after 6 months or so. And yanno? My damn jaw hurts. Just sayin'

*Does some more happy dancin*

And on that note, I am off to go and visit with Oldilocks. Tune in tomorrow when I will regale you with the tales of her adventures--the likes of which have been kind of making my hair curl. Whooo-Heeee Mama! Suffice it to say, the Old Girl has still got game.

Ciao!

A Hankerin For The Home Country

2007-08-01T10:48:00.000-04:00

Every now and then, The prodigy has a yearning for all things Canadian. He will start to reminisce about his early childhood in Canada, the time spent with his cousins frolicking in the snow in the winter and other things fairly unavailable to us here in the sunny State of Florida. One sure-fire way I have found to appease him is to prepare this dish, known in this household as Canadian Gold. So, today I will share with you the recipe for the concoction known as poutine.

First of all, break out the trusty old deep-fryer or deep, heavy based saucepan. Add as much vegetable oil as will be needed to fully submerse, deep fry and thereby render lethal some julienne cut potatoes. (Or in my case, some frozen Ore-Ida crinkly cut french fries. But wouldn't you agree, that whole julienne-cut fancy schmancy business sounds better? Work with me, here, wouldja??)

Fry until a crisp, golden brown. Locate wallet. Open and verify health care coverage is current. Set wallet aside.

When french fries have achieved desired state of crispy goodness, drain briefly on paper towel or other absorbent material. Be old school and daring and choose newspaper if you'd like. Do not drain too long or you will lose some valuable, artery clogging grease. This is STRICTLY forbidden. Season said fries liberally with salt. Your arteries will love you for it.

Divide french fries into equal portions into shallow serving bowls. You may use a plate if you'd prefer, but in the end you will only be screwing yourself. Trust me on this. Once french fries (or freedom fries, if you wanna be like THAT) have been argued over and divied up, cover generously in cheese. While fresh cheese curds are what is called for in this recipe, and are truly, unequivocally the best thing ever, they are not readily available here in the land of plenty; so I have found that whole milk mozzarella shreds will do in a pinch. Do NOT try and use skim milk mozzarella. That is just WRONG. You WILL be punished.

Stop and take gratuitous picture of cheesy fried yumminess, since you may just love your camera's macro abilities just a little bit and want to make out with it. Gather your wits about yourself and prepare to proceed to next step.

Having had the foresight to prepare all things needed for this delightful cholesterol roller coaster ride of a dish ahead of time, retrieve rich, dark brown beef gravy from the stove top.

Commence smothering of cheesy fries in rich, deep brown gravy until they are veritably swimming in a little brown pool of beefy goodness. See when I said you'd be screwing yourself in the end, with a plate? Aren't ya glad ya listened? Am always right. Make note. Retrieve cell phone or other communication device to have handy, just in case.

Force child to stop and wash his greebly little hands before digging in. Further force child to stop mid-gobble for his neurotic Mother to take a picture to share with the interwebs. Drool over cheesy, melty, crispy, beefy rich goodness that is poutine. Bless yourself and thank the sweet baby Jeebus that your son's fingernails are actually sorta clean.

Commence heart palpitations, uncontrollable sweating, numbness in jaw, crushing weight on chest and inexplicable pain in left arm. Dial 911 and thank GOD you have health care coverage, because this shit is indeed a heart attack on a plate!

Enjoy!

Bear Grylls Needs To Come Film In My Backyard

2007-07-26T15:17:00.000-04:00

I don't know what, exactly, is happening to my cozy little space but would you check this out??

Although this snapshot doesn't exactly capture the blood spray that is all over my beloved canine and the surrounding area, I do believe it sums up rather nicely how the snake is feeling. Besides, I was too busy running backwards, screaming like the total girl that I am and smashing ass over tea kettle into the table between the patio chairs that were directly behind me to worry about photographic finesse. Now then, if you'll excuse me while I go and try to brush citronella wax out of my hair, since how I upended the candle. Possibly onto my head.

Divot:1, Snake:0, Me:Bringing you grace and poise since 1968.

Anyone want to summon the National Geographic film crew for me, or shall I?

Things I Know For Certain

2007-07-25T13:52:00.001-04:00

Trust me...if you ever have occasion to do as I did this past weekend and come across one of these while cleaning out a flower pot in the apparently imagined comfort and safety of your own screened lanai, you will know without a doubt what it is that you are dealing with.

Yes, indeed. A Black Widow Spider. According to wikipedia, they are as scary as my nightmares deem them to be. You can read about them here, if you'd like:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_widow_spider

I was too busy turning this lovely arachnid into black widow mush with my son's shoe to take my own pictures, so I grabbed one from google images for the sake of reference.

But trust me, you'll just know. Without a doubt.

Shock And Awe

2007-07-19T13:08:00.000-04:00

You may think you know which is meant to shock and which is meant to awe, but you would probably be wrong...so, here is a little sumpin sumpin for everyone.

Say hello to The Prodigy...

Growing up I was pretty much allowed to do whatever I wanted with my hair. And although there were some wild ones, I never went quite this bright. I would have though, if I had the means to. If I were a few years younger I would totally be rocking the multi-colored dreads. While this may be shocking to some, this isn't it....

Now say hello to my nemesis and the bane of my existence...

To The Hubs, this is love. True love. I am just the woman that cooks for, cleans up after and clothes him. No, really. I wonder if he has named her yet! Shocking to the women, indeed. Awe inspiring to the men, I'm sure. But still, not it.

Say hello to this...its truly awesome and I know will shock the shit out of anyone who knows me.

I know, right? Whatever possessed me? Good Lord, the space to fill...the shopping to be had. The color-coding that has been done. Bliss.

Miracles DO happen!

-----

Damn! I was so shocked by my own clean closet I forgot to add these! Now THIS is love!

Ooooh...Shiny!

*dreamy sigh*

Old School Head Cover

If there were any doubt at all, THOSE, my friends, are the source of AWE.

HOPELESS ro-MAN-tic.

2007-07-18T11:28:00.000-04:00

As heard in conversation between the Hubs and I while driving home this past Sunday.

Me: Oh cool, Wednesday's lottery is up to 25 million. We will have to be sure and buy a ticket, since the draw date is our anniversary.

The Hubs: Yeah, for sure. 25 million is enough to split in half and go our separate ways.

Me: Aww, honey, I wouldn't divorce you even if I had 50 million.

The Hubs: *snickering* Awww, neither would I. I'd just get a girlfriend. If I had 50 million I could afford one.

Me: Sadly, I cant tell whether or not you are serious.

The Hubs: *Further Snickering*

Pursuant to our previous conversation, this was heard last night, while we had a pre-anniversary dinner at The Outback (because, hello--yum. Victoria's crowned filet. Nothing says wedded bliss quite like a decent cut of beef..)

Me: Well babe, would you do it again?

The Hubs: Huh?

Me: Marry me. Would you do it again?

The Hubs: Only if I didn't have to go through the wedding bullshit.

Me: You never went through that the first time!

The Hubs: I know, right? I was smart!

Me: Well, would you?

The Hubs: Would I have to go spend time dealing with the JP? Or spend fifty bucks on another license? Could we just 'say' we were married?

Me: *sigh* Okay, you don't have to stand in line, spend any money, or go through any ceremony. Do you still want to spend the rest of your life with me, after the last nine years?

The Hubs: Well, duh. I'm just finally getting you trained! Why would I trade you in on a different model?

-----

He is getting nine lottery quick picks for his anniversary gift. Trust me when I tell you that after those conversations, he may just need a girlfriend.

Reason Number 426 Why Florida Is Love...

2007-07-14T20:43:00.000-04:00

...Opening the medicine cabinet and staring directly into the eyes of a tree frog. How much cooler can it get than that?

Well maybe ALMOST as cool as seeing, real time, how much fear of snakes ones husband actually has; when an innocent little black racer made its way into the lanai (aka the screened pool enclosure for you non-FL types). Granted, the black snake was lunging at me and trying to sink its fangs into my wrist as I attempted to pick it up, and it was rattling the ever loving bejeebus out of its imaginary rattler in hopes of scaring me off. I ended up picking it up with the pool skimmer (because while not afraid of snakes, I sure didn't want it to connect with my wrist) and tossing it back out into the grass, at which time The Hubs took his trusty 9 iron and went on the hunt for it, in hopes of severing it's itty-bitty little head from it's slithery body. Imagine The Hubs surprise when he rounded the side of the house, eyes directed to the ground in search of the snake to no avail and upon deciding that the snake had probably made its exit, The Hubs looked up, only to meet the snake eye to eye as it sat resting atop the a/c unit.

Need I tell you how loud the clang of that golf club was as he slammed the top of the a/c unit?

From the way The Hubs remembers it, that snake was no less than 8ft long--and at LEAST 6 inches in diameter. And possibly even an anaconda. Except BIGGER.

Delusions Of Grandeur.

2007-07-11T08:30:00.000-04:00

You can all dream easy, I'll be guarding your rest. Just ask me to tell you about how, last night in my own dream, I subdued a home invader with my trusty golf club (uspide the head, indeed!) and then detained him with zip-ties until the police arrived.

There, wont you sleep much better now, knowing I am on full alert?

Reasons number 1 and 2 that we did not golf this past weekend...

2007-07-10T21:34:00.001-04:00

Because time spent with good friends is time well spent. Well, you can also see reasons number 3, 4, 5 and 6...but damn, they dont count. Not when there are CUTE twinsies to be gobbled! I LOOOOOVE me some babies!

p.s. G--Why dont you get a friggin tattoo, huh?

43 Years and About 43 Hours.

2007-07-07T07:34:00.000-04:00

A huge shout out to my parents, who celebrated 43 years of wedded bliss yesterday. Thanks for showing me how to stay married a very substantial length of time without having to kill or maim each other. Thanks for keepin it real, yo. Your children and Grandchildren appreciate it. It makes Christmas and the other family celebrations that much less complex, what with the travelling that would be required and the splitting of time--meh. Also, we never had to decide favorites..you both rule.

Now hows that for the Hallmark Card that never was, huh? Huh?

Also, a big congrats to the male half of the parental unit belong to The Hubs, as he has now been officially engaged for about 43 hours. And officially divorced for about 48. The dude is BLISSED OUT. And she is really sweet too, so that helps.

Golf Course Conversations...

2007-07-04T15:20:00.000-04:00

As spoken by the hubs: "Dee, you know if you really concentrate on your big muscles when you swing, and powering through the core of your body, you will have many more very succesful shots. Already I have seen vast improvement with your swing but now that you are using your new clubs I think if you really focus on it you will see very marked improvement."

As heard by me: "Blah blah blabbety blah blah, yadda yadda, I'm such a friggin know-it-all, blabbety blah."

A moment in the life of.

2007-07-02T08:23:00.000-04:00

As heard in conversation between myself and The Hubs:

Me: Hubs, what has happened to us? Do we really need the 3600sq ft.? The three car garage? All the latest and greatest in toys? The 60" big screen? Remember our first house, in all its 900sq ft. of glory? Do we really need anymore than we had then? All of this--stuff?

Hubs: *blank look*

Me: Seriously, sometimes it kind of sickens me..what are we doing?

Hubs: Keepin up with the Joneses, baby! Besides, it isn't like we spend a bunch beyond our means.

Me: I wasn't really referring to the financial implications hon, but our carbon footprint is really kind of terrible. We should be more aware.

Hubs: Why do I need to know what kind of shoes you buy?

Me: Argh.

Hubs: *snickers and returns his undivided attention to his 60" television*

Uhm, yeah. I caved. And the Leester? He is a very happy boy.

____________

p.s. Divot is fine, although he continues to give the entire kitchen a wide berth.

I've reached a new low.

2007-06-30T13:38:00.001-04:00

Anyone want to guess how shitty I feel after spilling the contents of a freshly poured, extra large cup of steaming hot coffee off of the kitchen counter and right onto the Jack Russell Terrier that is ALWAYS underfoot in the kitchen; completely covering his head and back?

Right, because cold-cocking him with my driver and splitting his lip when he walked right into my practice swing a couple months ago wasn't quite enough.

If you guessed steaming pile of dog crap as the possible level of shitty, you would be correct.

His yelping, crying and scrambling in circles out of extreme pain until I dunked him in a sink of cold water will be the stuff my nightmares are made of for the time being. That, and I feel like throwing up.

That is all.

Well, Hello There!

2007-06-25T15:05:00.000-04:00

It's a good thing that I never specified on which Monday my next entry would appear or I would have been made a complete liar, since that was ten days ago. You see, here is the thing. Every now and then (read: always, lately) I start to over think this little space on the web and it basically paralyzes me and leaves me unable to write anything at all. After all, how interesting can my banal navel-gazing be, in the scheme of things? Do you guys really want to hear about the mundane happenings in my day to day life? Cause frankly, it just really isn't all that interesting and it mostly leaves me pretty bored when I contemplate it..so, subjecting you guys to it seems sort of pointless and quite possibly painful! A rather special sort of narcissism, isn't it? To presume that anyone really even gives a shit what/if/when I write on here? that is the other thing involved...I start to question if I should even write at all.

Add to that that life has been nothing if not busy lately and I am able to come up with countless reasons to just let that golf ball sitting tree frog wither aimlessly atop of old news.

Since you are here though, lets chat, shall we? I'll share with you a few of the things rattling around my coconut as of late.

In exactly 28 days, our current VISA status expires. While we are currently working with The hubs' employer and an immigration attorney to have that status extended, it is a time of great unease and anxiety for yours truly; the anxiety maven extraordinaire. While rationally, I know that in all probability, things will go off without a hitch; the control freak in me has to worry every possible angle in the meantime. Because while we all know that worrying while unable to do anything about it and even without knowing what it truly is I am worrying at this point is beyond wasted effort and really nothing more than self torture, as my stomach can attest to, it is just one more thing that I just Cannot. Let. Go. So, instead, I sit and ponder the logistical nightmare that would be us, in a month, without valid status. In keeping with all things bureaucratic, our FL Drivers License's also expire on that same date, so that sure would make moving back to Canada with all of our worldly possessions a fun-filled event, wouldn't it? And the fact that we are locked into our lease agreement for another eighteen months and my husbands inability to work for anyone else in the USA without valid INS authorization having been tossed into the mix? Does it make your stomach feel like you just swallowed a medicine ball too? Since I tend to internalize my stress, that is how mine feels. Especially loverly, really!

Even typing it out gives that fear a certain validity that I have been trying to avoid (further reason for my silence as of late). It makes it seem all that more real and possible, which my pea-sized irrational little brain sees and tends to slide down the proverbial scale from level-headed to full on panic-stricken idiocy.

So let's not go there anymore, shall we? Lets talk instead about...uhm, I dunno. Rainbows! And Butterflies! And Sunshine!

Bah...forget all the girly crap! Lets talk instead about golf. Now, that is something I can sink my teeth into. Like, for instance, my absolutely GORGEOUS new set of golf clubs, also known as some seriously suh-weet Callaway Big Bertha's, *commence drooling* , the likes of which include a complete set of irons (4-10--the 10 replacing my pitching wedge, for those who might give a shit), a sand wedge and a gap/approach wedge. As well as my very favorite club in my bag, the Big Bertha 5 fairway wood (I decided that for now I would keep my current driver, since it does okay for me and upgrade that later along with perhaps a 3 wood). That particular club just happens to be so sweet that I kissed it on several occasions when she produced for me. And boy does she produce. I HEART that particular club. Yeah--now that right there is some serious consumer therapy. It makes me want to go hit some balls just talking about them. And I may possibly be drooling, they are just that delicious. The Hubs wont actually admit to having club envy but I know he feels it. He claims that he doesn't, even, but he lies like a sidewalk.

See? Feeling much better now, thankyouverymuch! Did I mention how happy a sleeve of brand-spanking new golf balls makes me? *contented sigh* Good God, I cant move back to Canada! The golf season is just waaaaay too short!

Now then, aren't you glad you stopped by? *ahem*

Excuse me while I remove my head from my posterior and get my act together. I'll see you again soon.

Perhaps even tomorrow.

Has It really Been Two Weeks?

2007-06-15T08:29:00.001-04:00

Otherwise known as the blog of non-updates...

As you all know, my family came for a good long visit, which was a great deal of fun as is probably best depicted in this little photo collage.

We had the occasion to spend some time on the Gulf Coast with my parents, and then my Auntie Lynne (Hi Auntie Lynne!!) came to spend a week (Which she promptly changed to ten days on her first day here, because she loves us (read:Florida, but really mostly us) like that.) and let me tell you, it was a blast. I would easily say that this was their best visit ever in the history of the more than six years we have been here. It was just plain old fun. Lots of time spent out by the pool, grilling our lovely meals, of which there was only one ill-fated, red wine induced char-session which left burgers so crispy fried that even the dog turned up his nose in disgust. They forgave me afterwards though, when I redeemed myself a few nights later with my grill mastery. Ahem. I mean, they were PETRIFIED. It was so bad.

Oh, in case you didn't notice the picture of the most awesome and heart disease inspiring steak dinner EVER in the history of all steaks, let me show you again. My mouth waters just looking at the picture of it even now, so yours should too.

Can you believe that butter and sour cream on the already double-stuffed baked potato? And the mound of best-ever bleu cheese dressing on that salad? Holy hell it was yummy. Crazy, I tell you, crazy good! Is it sad that I am now craving steak and my mouth is watering at 8:30 in the morning? Yeah, I kinda thought so.

I could tell you a great many little anecdotes about the visit, like my Dad's propensity for screwing up the names of local establishments such as "Skinny's" Burger joint becoming "Stinky's", or "Smokey Bones" BBQ becoming "Skeleton Ribs", or even the local produce stand "Maters and Taters" being renamed "Mana and Banana" but I think you probably had to be there or something is lost in translation. trust me, it was funny and we laughed. A lot.

I think what takes the cake though, out of all the little laughs we had, was when I dumped my Auntie Lynne ass-over-tea-kettle right out of the golf cart on one not so especially hairy turn (read:almost standing still) as she reached down to grab a golf ball. I do believe my Dad questioned our sanity as she and I were unable to move or even speak from laughing so hard, for fear of peeing our pants.

Now, that? That is family good times. I look forward to the next visit...which, given my three day rule and the fact that they were here a month? Is a miraculous feat, really. it was awesome.

Have a great weekend, everyone. I promise to update Monday and get back into the routine of several times a week, if you promise to stick around. Thanks for waiting out my sabbatical. I can only blame sun-induced vacation brain.

My Love Knows No Bounds

2007-05-25T09:37:00.001-04:00

Naveen Andrews, better known to some as Sayid, or The Worlds Number One BADASS, is the object of entirely too much of my affection, but can you blame me? The dude is HOT! And his mad ninja skills as displayed on LOST? I mean, really. How can your heart NOT go pitter-patter when you see the likes of this in action? I may have made the husband rewind the DVR repeatedly so I could memorize every move that the object of my desire made when displaying his mad talent for creatively doing away with bad guys. MAY have. I also may or may not talk to the TV when watching LOST, speaking directly to Sayid as though he were right here with me and my husband may or may not call him my boyfriend. But I am not admitting to anything, so shhh. Dont you dare judge me! I can't hear you! Go watch the entire YouTube clip to see all of this hotness in action. Trust me, you will not be disappointed. Unless, of course, you have not yet watched the LOST season finale, which; DUH! Go download it!

What are you waiting for??

Disclaimer directed entirely at my beloved husband: This is my free pass. If ever the opportunity were to present itself, I get this get out of jail free card, because Sayid could eat crackers in our marital bed without me feeling an ounce of guilt. Mmkay? Deal.

That's it, I'm surely going to burn.

2007-05-24T19:52:00.000-04:00

If you have visited within the past couple of posts, you may have noted the reference to Divot being a poor homeless canine holding a cardboard sign. Do you recall? Well, today I broke the cardinal rule regarding our vagrant, beggar type compadres. I gave one actual money. And not just ANY money, but a five dollar bill.

I know, right? What the hell was I thinking. Well, you see, the thing is that I have oft commented to The Hubs that while I applaud their willingness to stand in the scathing conditions that are Florida in the summer, with the 100% humidity and hot as balls temperatures, I hate that their cardboard signs are basically blatant bullshit. I mean, come on. If you are going to stand there and beg, at least own it. Because with this being The Land O'plenty, we all know there is work to be had if you are willing. If I were in such a position (Gawd forbid-- afterall, that is why ah married a good man, so ah could be barefoot and pregnant and chained to mah stove--), I promise you that my placard would read something like this:

"Odds are, I am NOT homeless, have a Lexus stashed under the next overpass, make more than most honest hardworking folks and I COULD work if I was so inclined. But I am not, so PLEASE give me some of your hard earned money anyway, since I at least have the mettle to stand here in the heat and traffic and beg for it. Mmkay, thanks, g'bye. Oh, and God Bless. Jesus loves you."

Granted, the pickings might be slim unless it was a really long traffic light or I flashed my boobs or something, but still.

ANYWAY--

The man I happened upon today was holding the most remarkable sign. It read:

Homeless--Need WORK.
Please hire me.
God Bless.

So, I respected his gumption. I opened my window a smidge and called him over and gave him 5 bucks, told him I respected his sign, asking for work instead of a handout. Just prior to dislocating my shoulder by patting myself on the back for being a proper Christian, he slurred a barely discernible thankyouma'am and zig-zagged back into the median and pushed the button to cross the street.

Yeah...uhm, I am the sucker that gave him JUST enough money to buy his next bottle of hooch. So, dear readers, riddle me this...

If that very bottle of hooch is the one that sends him over the brink into death or worse, a further burden on our already taxed medical system due to liver failure or something, am I to blame?

My life's lesson should be clear by now. That being that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Duh. Maybe one day, I'll get it.

Speaking of hooch though (nice segue, right? I'm sayin!), you guys have got to try this wine. Brought to you by the very Francis Ford Coppola you think it is, is this yum-dilly-ishus merlot, the Francis Coppola Diamond series. Equally yummy is the claret. And while there are much better reviews than mine for wine, as I have zero knowledge of the technicalities of the nectar of the gods since we usually buy ours in a box, you'll just have to trust me and buy it and pretend you are all pretentious and knowledgeable and I'm not. But I don't care. So shut up.

Go buy some!

Because Molly Said So...

2007-05-23T16:24:00.000-04:00

And, anyone who knows Molly (a.k.a. my baby sister)--what she says goes. Without question. Or she will, in fact, melt you with her death stare of doom. And other really scary stuff, that in my family, we just plain old know not to question. Because we ALL prefer life in forms OTHER than a puddle of melty goo on the floor.

Just trust me on this one, will you? It's safer that way.

Shhh... I think I hear her coming.

So then! How are you? Why, great! Glad to hear it. Vacation was fun and relaxing and sunshiny and warm. So, here: Have some gratuitous beachy type vacation photos!

(Click on photo to see the next photo in the stream)

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In other news, my parents will be back at The Casa G. on Friday for the weekend, before jetting off to the Atlantic coast for a stay in another condo somewhere over there. And, they are bringing The Prodigy with them for a few days when they go. Which means The Leester and I will be kid free for a bit. WOOOOOHOOOOOO!

And, even more exciting? My Auntie Lynne is coming for a visit while my Mom and Dad are here, so we get to see her for the first time in seven or more years. Wheeee! Good times to be had by all.

For now, Ciao, my friends. Time to make dinner before the natives get restless.

In which I dust off the cobwebs...

2007-05-14T09:54:00.000-04:00

Blog, you say? What blog? Huh?

I'm shamed, almost to the point of no return, about how lackadaisical my attitude has been regarding my little space on the interwebs lately. You, too, should be ashamed of me. I even entertained the thought of letting this blog slip into the oblivion that is permanent hiatus, because lately life just hasn't seemed noteworthy.

Yet, here I am. So, loyal readers (all two of you?), for you...

Things have been busy at The Casa G., but not in the usual sense of the word. Spring time in Florida means for us the inundation of family visits. The Leester's Mother and gentleman friend were here for a few days and then my parents arrived last Wednesday, so we have been in entertainment mode. Somehow, it is easy just to let the little things slip when the routine is displaced. We have company in town until the first week in June although not all with us. (Thank the Sweet Baby Jesus!!!!!) My folks are really awesome house guests as they understand the three-day rule. That being the old adage that company is like fish. After about three days, they start to smell. So, what they do is plan their time with us around various weeks spent in condominiums around the state. In the 5 weeks or so that they are here in Florida, they are only in our house a total of 6 nights. Agreeable, right? Yeah, that's what I'm sayin! As well, they are kindly entertaining us for a few days this week in a lovely beach side condo on Anna Maria Island, on the Gulf Coast.

Trust me, when I tell you that this increases their stock as house guests by leaps and bounds! This means that The Hubs has agreed to take no less than three days off of work and we will be spending 4 full days officially on vacation! This would also be the longest vacation my husband has taken in the time that we have been together!

It is a banner day, people! Woooot!

I may actually even boycott the golf clubs and force him to spend said days with me, wandering the beaches and actually putting his feet up and relaxing. Just don't tell him that between now and then, okay?

I am really looking forward to getting away, as are The Hubs and The Prodigy. The only family member doing any complaining is Divot, as his vacation will be spent in the kennel at his local veterinarian's office. Suffice it to say he isn't pleased with the idea.

The poor abused canine! Next, you will see him standing in the middle of a busy intersection, cardboard sign in hand.

Homeliss
Pleeze help
Will Work For Dog Biskets
God Bless

Speaking Of Breakfast...

2007-04-19T12:33:00.000-04:00

In a concerted effort to convince The Hubs that there is, indeed, more to breakfast than coffee from 7-11 and two peanut butter cookies, I have been practicing the art of the muffin. Today I bring you an extremely nutritious and yummalicious recipe for what I will go so far as to call the perfect bran muffin. The original recipe was given to me by my Mom, and was further modified (changes to original recipe indicated in parentheses) by yours truly as a means of amping up the wholesome goodness to cater to the specific needs of the Casa G. in light of the fact that The Prodigy is pre-diabetic. And who also, for some strange reason unbeknownst to me, has shown sudden leanings to the right-wing world of vegetarianism. Pshhhheah...gimme a steak, biatch! But, in an effort to accommodate and promote healthful eating habits, I am being supportive and uhm...stuff.

So, yeah.

Without further ado, the recipe!

Cranberry Walnut Bran Muffins

3/4c Bran (RAW bran, NOT bran cereal. Found in the cooked cereal aisle.)
3/4c Flour (Recipe calls for white, I used 100% Whole Wheat)
3/4c Granulated Sugar (I used 1/2c Splenda's sugar blend, plenty sweet enough)
1 1/2tsp Spice (ie: cinnamon, cloves, allspice or pumpkin pie spice, to your taste)
1tsp Baking Powder
1tsp Baking Soda
1/2 tsp Salt
1/2c dried cranberries (any dried fruit works well, such as blueberries or raisins)
1/2c chopped walnuts (or pecans)

1c Canned Pumpkin (100% pumpkin, NOT pie filling)
2 large eggs
1/3c vegetable oil
1c plain yogurt (I used 8th Continent UNFLAVORED Soy Milk, Buttermilk works well too)

Combine dry ingredients in one bowl. Mix wet ingredients in another bowl until thoroughly mixed. Form a 'well' in the center of the dry ingredients and pour the wet ingredients in the center of the well. Mix until just combined. Spoon batter into muffin tins lightly sprayed with Pam until approximately 2/3 full. (An ice cream scoop works well.)

Bake in a 400 degree oven for approximately 25 minutes or until center of muffin is firm to the touch. Remove from the oven and allow to cool completely inside of muffin tins.

This recipe yields 12 muffins and is easily doubled.

Enjoy!

p.s. "Do as I say and not as I do" being the creed to which we live by at the Casa G., I still partake of the breakfast Diet Coke while they eat these super moist and delicious muffins. Because I can. Because I said so. I did, however, give up the ugly cigarette habit so that has to count for something; right?

So there.

Breakfast Of Champions

2007-04-18T14:54:00.000-04:00

My life, she is officially complete.

See Dad? It's more than just a Hooker's breakfast when accompanied by a cigarette! It is now nutritional! It has earned it's place in the food pyramid!

Oh, Diet Coke, how I love thee. Let me count the ways...

That is all. As you were.

You Kids Get Off My lawn, Y'hear?!

2007-04-16T16:03:00.000-04:00

The Hubs and I had the occasion to be out late Friday night (a very unusual event for us..and by late I am sure I mean far earlier than most, considering I am usually in the land of dreams by 10:00pm or so. A wild child, this one.)and as I am wont to do, I had him stop so that I could get myself a coffee to have on the way home. I love coffee in the car a great deal. I love coffee in the car in the evening more, for entirely different reasons, as I was sure to point out to the Hubs.

Me: Hubs, I love coffee in the car, at night. It brings to mind road trips of yore. I love a good road trip Hubs, we should plan one!

TH: We are too old for a road trip Dee.

Me: Are not! Dude, you have GOT to quit referring to us as old! You're killin me here!

TH: Dee, we ARE old. We're like...arctic cruise old!

Me: You call me old one more time, Mother Fkucer, and you'll know arctic. You have yet to see the depths to which frigid can descend, my friend. Consider that your warning. Now take me home. I'm tired and my arthritis is acting up.

.

In Which I Wax Maudlin

2007-04-12T09:20:00.000-04:00

Saturday night at about midnight as The Hubs and I lay in bed, he grumbling about the TV being on while I watched two entirely flamboyant homosexual men pay an exorbitant amount of money to have their kitchen renovated (Which? Some seriously hot bedroom action to choose to write about, wouldn't you agree?), we had a conversation that is not at all uncommon for us. The Hubs HATES when I have the TV or the light on when he is trying to go to sleep. He pisses and moans like the big baby that he is, while I tell him to shhhhh, shush and eventually; shaddup. Reading in bed like I LOVE to do? Out of the question. It just doesn't happen in my house. He starts by asking me to turn out the light and ends up with infuriatingly repeating the words mantra-style and flicking the back of my book. He did give me pause this time, however, and I finally conceded defeat and shut off the damn TV. (Or so he thinks. The show had ended. And the kitchen? Gorgeous.)

He turned over and said: "Dee, I am nearly FORTY YEARS OLD and it is time to go to sleep."

FORTY YEARS OLD.

Can you imagine? Now, he just celebrated his 37th birthday last week, but he is right. He is very nearly forty years old and while that might not seem like that big a deal to some of you, it made my breath catch. For a number of reasons. Not the least of which is the fact that I am fifteen months older than him.

Exactly...which means I will be forty just that much sooner.

Forty Years Old.

You know, I've been giving that whole thing some thought. And it really does not bother me much, the idea of the big 4-0. I love my life. I love where I am in my life and I love the positive changes being made in my life. It is an amazing thing to me. I can honestly say I am at a point in my life that far supersedes where I once thought I would be, and that is amazing to me.

What absolutely shocks me about this though, is how UN-forty-ish I feel. I mean, I don't fancy myself a twenty-something or anything like that, but I am amazed at how little difference there is in the mentality of the last couple decades. I just don't FEEL any older. (Although suddenly, in using the term DECADES, I may have to rethink this post entirely.) I feel much wiser, much more level headed and much more accomplished, certainly, but with those feelings does not come the sense of aging.

It was very recent, as a matter of fact at the Spring Break Nationals in Daytona beach, that I looked down at the crowd walking along perusing the competing vehicles; and it occurred to me that I belonged in a different age category than most of the people there. And it came as a shock. Not an unpleasant one, but still, a shock.

Here's hoping that I can hit that landmark gracefully. And perhaps even have another forty to follow these ones. Hopefully they are as sweet.

As an aside though, I wish my body had the same set as my mind, because IT sure isn't the same as when I was twenty.

The dirty-rotten, betraying bitch that it is.

Giving A Shout Out To Those (far) More Talented Than I

2007-04-10T14:56:00.000-04:00

Last time I updated, I promised to share with you some of my daily reads, the very ones which distract me from my own sorry little space on this vast Internet. They are varied, for sure. I hope you enjoy.

Without further ado, I bring you that which entertains...

Rock Star Mommy. Invariably, I am amused by her wit and scathing sense of humor. K has become a friend over the course of the past year or so, through interaction on her blog, via email and a crazy group of women bloggers that somehow developed a friendship outside (and because of) her blog, of which I am a part of. One day, hopefully this June, I will have the opportunity to meet this "Cuboreankraut" dynamo. She tries to come across as all hard-assed and rock star, but in reality she is a clearly devoted wife and mother who has overcome more than her fair share of hardship. Granted, allot of it was self induced over the years on the way to growing up, but she has come through it nicely. Just don't tell her I made any mention of her being anything but hardcore, alright?

Mimi Smartypants. I forget how I stumbled across this blog but it brings the humor. Always entertaining, Mimi writes her blog extremely well and is a published author, I believe as a direct result of what started here. Talented, this one.

Greek Tragedy. Stephanie Klein, the author of this blog, has oft been compared to Sarah Jessica Parker of Sex and The City fame; as she regales you with stories of mating and dating in NYC after an ugly divorce. She is also a published author as a result of hard work and the fame brought by blogging, (or infamy, as some would profess) and is currently working on her second book and a sitcom for one of the major networks. Now married and the mother to (GORGEOUS) twins, the past few years of Stephanie's life has read like an interactive soap opera and has made for some great reading.

Amalah. This was the first blog I ever had the pleasure of reading and I still read it daily. The girl is funny, witty and more than just a little crazy. She also authors or co-authors several other blogs, all of which you can link to on her blog.

That is a sampling of some of the more entertaining ones that I read regularly. If you are so inclined, you can click on the highlighted names to take you to each, I am sure you'll find something there that will make you smile.

And now, I'll share with you a couple that are amazingly written, poignant, humbling and share more than a little of life's struggles. I am reminded to be thankful for each and every one of life's blessings when I read these. Enjoy.

From The Mountain Top. Here you will find an extremely well written and heartfelt account of what life is like as the mother of a micro-preemie as Christy shares with you her son Elias. She is an amazing person with an amazing set of circumstances that brings to light a lot of things that most people would never give thought to. I am always uplifted by her writing and really cant speak highly enough about her. Her son, Elias, is quite possibly one of the most gorgeous little guys you will ever lay eyes on. You are guaranteed to take something of value with you when you read her thoughts.

Dan and Leanne. Although I have very recently discovered this blog, it is one that I check daily for updates. It is an account of one young family's struggles with lymphoma and is very seriously the best written and most touching blog I have read to date. Dan's accounts of life since his wife's diagnosis and the love that is conveyed through his writing will bring you to your knees with grief and with hope for them. You really must go read it. And if you are of the praying variety, please do so for this family. I do so, daily.

A Woman Of many Parts. Another harrowing story of life with cancer, Minerva's blog will make you eternally grateful for everything you take for granted. Well written and always educational, this gives you a different insight about a disease that affects so many people. I forget how I came across this blog but again, it is one I check daily and another person I pray for continually.

I will leave you with those for now, I hope you derive some of the same things that I do from them. Enjoy.

In other news, let me share with you what NOT to do when attempting to sear a roast. trust me.

That, my friends, is a nice little burn as a result of smoking hot oil splashing onto my arm. And I didn't even cuss. But only because I was on the phone with my Mom when it happened. Please disregard entirely the extremely unattractive view of the inside crook of my right elbow.

Until next time....

In Which There Is No Excuse But Laziness

2007-04-05T10:28:00.000-04:00

I am feeling better. Thanks Kait, for inquiring. I haven't, however, lost my affinity for being a lazy ass who thinks to herself daily: 'Blog? Meh...it'll keep for another day' and then wiling away her free time by reading all the blogs of other, more interesting people she loves to partake of.

So, there ya have it. No excuse is my only excuse.

And since the highlight of my week is a funny that happened at Costco with The Leester last Friday afternoon, which I will share with you because holy HELL was it hilarious, afterwards I intend to direct you to some of my favorite daily reads. And then you can see how easy it is to be distracted and pulled away from my accidental anecdotes like I am. But just make sure you come back okay? Please? I'll miss you!

*ahem*

So anyways, we were wandering around and doing a bit of shopping and since I was still recovering from the flu I wanted nothing more than a new pair of pyjamas, which is a point of consternation with my husband to begin with, as he claims that half my wardrobe is made up of pyjamas. So, the conversation went down much like this:

Me: Oooh, I see they have new jammies, lemme go see.
TL: Alright...*sigh*
Me: Im reluctant to even mention jammies cause I know how you feel about them.
TL: They make up more than half your wardrobe Dee, you may as well run with it at this point.
Me: Yeah, yeah...shaddup. I'll let you help me pick.
TL: Oh, joy. (Not an ounce of sarcasm, as I am sure you guessed)
Me: Come on honey...
TL: If you want jammies, get jammies. (clearly just being nice cause I have been sick, which is as close as we get to sympathy in my house. Trust me. This was a true concession on his part.)

Upon making our way to the table heavily laden with the springy goodness of cotton florals and plaids, I hold up two options. A night shirt and a two piece capri set.

TL: Not that night gown thing...it screams old lady. If you have to get some, get the other ones.
Me: Okay, which pattern? Floral or plaid?
TL: I dont give a shit.
Me: Just pick.
TL: Not the flowers.
Me: You sure you dont like this night shirt?
TL: HATE.
Me: Oh come on baby, Grandma-flauge doesn't do it for you?

I almost pee'd my pants, laughing at my incredible wit. So did the lady who overheard the entire conversation.

Grandma-flauge. Bahahahaha. I kill me!

So...about those links. Or rather, about that whole laziness thing. I'll give you the links tomorrow. I don't feel like it today.

Ciao!

In Which The Influenza Shows Me Exactly Who Is Boss

2007-04-01T23:25:00.000-04:00

*cough, sputter, wheeze*

Let me just preface this by saying, I don't know how I ever smoked. Ever. My God. My lungs? They have risen up and retaliated, by making me feel like I am drowning, with every gasping, fledgling breath that I take. They curse the years that I used to suck on those marlboro lights, scoffing at me...screaming "See? We warned you!"

Yes, truly. That bad.

So...aside from that? How have you been? Good? Great! Glad to hear it! No, really.

*cough, cough.*

The Spring break nationals? They come, they go. The first of many car audio competitions this year, I am informed. The husband? In a shallow grave in someones back yard. I dare you to try and make me divulge where. Thats all I'm saying about that.

Goldilocks? Still in the nursing home, in her arm brace/cast thingy for another four weeks. And let me tell you, she is rivaling the best of the best, in regards to bitchiness.

Me? I am studying like a fool, in preparation for the post secondary education of my....golden years? Wild. That's all I'm saying about that, too.

The prodigy? Excels, with regards to that whole report card/honor roll thing. Wonder what they can do about the whole eye-rolling, teenaged attitude business.

UGH!

Talk to you soon, my friends.

Happy Spring!

Spring Has Sprung

2007-03-21T14:04:00.000-04:00

Spring has sprung,
The grass is ris'
I wonder where the birdies is....

It occurs to me today that I have truly become that suburban housewife that I used to lament, when an indication that all is right with the world is the twice (not once, but TWICE!) weekly, fully-automated garbage pick-up and bi-weekly recyclables (also fully-automated) pick-up. Oh the joy that is derived by the husband's wheeling out of the handy dandy, city supplied, neat and tidy garbage barrel.

Ah yes. Bliss I tell you, true bliss. Gone are the days of the underpaid and overworked laborers who toss the can every which way, oft times in the middle of the street and/or breaking the lid after emptying them into the back of the truck.

Gone. Like a bad storm having blown through my tidy little Stepford neighborhood.

In its stead, you see this:

All the same, all set on the curb according to the mandate dictated by the city I live in.

How sad is it that it is a source of pleasure for me?

I mean really.

And don't you even get me STARTED on the twinge of annoyance I feel every time I pass my front door from inside and am met with the glaring faux pas that is this:

Can you imagine? Look at the size of that mess of a spot that was left on my beloved driveway by someones vehicle! How can you see anything BUT that black offending spot of doom?

My world is truly off its axis.

In a perfect world, God would send down the cleansing rains to rid my driveway of this offense:

And this one:

Whatever will I do? What WILL the neighbors think??

---------

*Note to self: Get a freakin life.*

Music to his ears, like nails on a chalkboard.

2007-03-20T13:32:00.000-04:00

I am nothing, if not disorganized. Lately my days seem to consist of morning trips to the nursing home to see Oldilocks, afternoons of scrambling to play catch-up on the daily chores required to keep the Casa G. somewhat orderly, and evenings of assisting The Hubs (okay once. I helped him on Sunday. Or mainly I kept him company.) in the garage of doom, readying his car for Spring Break Nationals which are this coming weekend.

And might I say, I hate his garage. And his car. And Spring Break Nationals. And car audio. I may or may not even say it often, as a matter of fact. TOO OFTEN, much to the chagrin of The Hubs. Seriously. I milk that puppy for all it is worth, starting in oh...about October. I'm creative about it. The time factor..it takes so much time away from the family when every weekend is spent with him holed up in the garage. It seriously cuts into my golf time and my game suffers. It is costly. Need I go on? Yeah, I thought not. You get the idea. And you know, I don't quit pissing and moaning about it until after it is over, the second to last weekend in March. And that, my friends, is some seriously valuable bitching time. That requires talent, lamenting the angst that is brought upon my person by my husband's desire to make his car sound better than Chico, Jesus' and Jose's all sound. Who else do you know that can bitch about one topic for a full six months? Like really stretch it out and make it sing, like music to the ears?

I know, right?

Maybe I shall have to start warming up in about July this year. Just to make sure I'm on top of my game. I'm sure The Hubs will love me all the more for it.

Do me a favor though, will you? Don't tell The Hubs that in all actuality, this year's undertakings were pretty painless. Cost effective, even.

We don't want him getting the wrong idea, after all.

Giving credit where due, last year at Spring Break Nationals, he won the class in which he was entered. Just ask me, I'll tell you ALL about it. I still haven't found a spot to put the 6 foot tall trophy he brought home.

Well, I did find one spot, but he was not real receptive to the idea.

There are people who would pay good money...

2007-03-16T08:32:00.000-04:00

For me to be silent this long. Just ask my husband. Or my kid, when I am giving orders. Slave driver that I am...

Life continues at a hectic pace, especially for someone who doesn't have to work. It seems like I have been going at a dead run since I was last here, but I am told that life gets in the way like that, sometimes.

The prodigy is on spring break and therefore, even when I am home, I am battling him for the computer. Except I don't really battle, it is nice to not be attached to it, so I have been off doing other things.

Oldilocks took a tumble last weekend and broke her arm, so my Saturday past was spent in the emergency room; putting in time. They decided that she needed to be admitted because not only is she right handed and unable to do much of anything, she is very unsteady on her feet and at danger of hurting herself with another fall. So, she is now in a nursing home for a period of rehabilitation. Trust me when I tell you she is unimpressed. The break at home is nice for the Family G, though.

The Hubs is in full swing with preparations for Spring Break Nationals, the HUGE car audio competition and show at Daytona Beach next weekend..so suffice it to say I go back and forth between wanting to kill him and...well, wanting to kill him.

So far he has been lucky.

Next week I get serious about finding out what I need to do in order to go to school. Something that I am a little nervous about. My math will definitely need brushing up, it has never been my strong suit. Like The Hubs said though, it is pretty basic math...not like I am going to have to find the square root of someones ass.

Yes, well penicillin is all about mold, too

2007-03-08T09:41:00.000-05:00

I love cheese.

And there you have it, it is just that simple. A good deli is a dangerous place to bring me, for I am easily distracted by the shiny that is good cheese. All the different regions and flavors and wine pairings, tucked in amongst all the other sinfully delicious pleasures that are good food....mmmm-mmmm-good. The key word there being GOOD. I do not refer to sub-par over processed fast foods as good. Or even most grocery store 'bests' as good. Good food, to me, is usually without any additives or preservatives, requires a great deal of preparation and is not a quick fix. And while I absolutely LOVE to cook, time does not always permit.

Insert the love that is the deli...

Our favorite deli, as a matter of fact, has a free-pour micro brewery where you just help yourself while you shop. I ask you, what could possibly be better than that? Like help yourself to the point of bringing in a designated driver, if you choose. The looser the free-pour, the looser the wallet. And the looser the wallet is a good thing, when selling premium food products. It is sound business sense, really. I may or may not be just a little bit in love with this particular deli. As a matter of fact, I may just ask it to marry me, the next time I am there; so The Hubs and I can cancel that outing off the 'date' status list and I can just move right in with the deli. Why did it take me this long to think of this? Duh!

Heaven on earth, in the form of wine tastings, samples of really great products and THE absolute best meat market I have ever laid eyes on, even superseding that of my small town butcher's shop in the heart of that land known as Alberta beef country. Imagine. It is just THAT good.

A trip there is tantamount to finding all that is right with the world, effortlessly.

At any rate...while I would consider myself to be a connoisseur of the cheese, I had yet to try one that I have been hearing about for years. It is called COMTE and is basically the beluga caviar of the cheese clique. The fois gras of the dairy department.

Yesterday, I found it. Finally! I picked it up without hesitation, armed myself with a fresh artisan baguette and some red wine and set out to imbibe in one of the finer things the culinary world has to offer.

*insert wilting flower emoticon here*

I hated it.

No matter how many times I tried to taste it after the first attemot, I just couldn't get past the earthiness of it. As I was mourning the loss of something I never knew to begin with, but felt deprived of just the same, The Hubs walked in the door and I showed it to him while giving him something of an education about it. He tried it, declared it wasn't bad, and asked me to cut him a chunk of it. Gladly. Here you go, enjoy!

I settled for a piece of very sharp cheddar (it was the only other I had in the house) to pair with the bread and wine and The Hubs went to change out of his work clothes. Upon his return to the kitchen, he picked up the cheese and proceeded to nibble. Somewhat distracted by other food preparation, I went about my business, chattering to him all the while (The kitchen is very much the axis of our home and the place where most of the talking happens for The Family G, before the hubs and the prodigy retreat back into communication in the form of grunts. Therefore? When the opportunity for conversation happens, I tend to chatter. Maybe, possibly a little bit). Upon turning around, I see The Hubs, fingers to his nose and sniffing his hands, one after the other.

Eyebrow arched, I had to laugh. He looked at me, inquiring as to what was funny and I let him know that I knew exactly what he was doing...which? Was smelling his fingers to see if it was them that smelled badly or the cheese.

THAT is how earthy this cheese tasted. My husband, with his discerning tastes, couldn't figure out if he had forgotten to wash his hands after scratching his posterior or if it was the very expensive cheese.

I don't know what is worse, that he washed his hands and then continued to eat the cheese, proclaiming that it was probably bum-fingers; or that this very expensive cheese just flat out tasted like ass smells.

For the record, the rest of that particular cheese? ALL his.

So, how do you like them apples?

2007-03-06T10:30:00.000-05:00

When The Leester and I made the decision to move the family G., it was very much about The Adventure!, The Change!, The Life!

(insert random scoffing and laughter at THOSE PEOPLE who get caught in the rut that is the day to day grind and never branch out to see what life has to offer. We would NEVER be come THOSE PEOPLE, dammit. We would not die within a thirty mile radius of all we knew, nose to the grindstone and barely existing.).

It was done basically on a whim because we discovered quite by accident that we could. We had heard about the Canadian brain drain to the USA and figured, what the hell? So, I put together a resume for my beloved and fired it out there. I tossed SO much shit figuring that the more wall you hit, the more likely you are to receive a response.

Well, within something like two weeks, he had 110 interested hits. Suddenly, this whim became about possibilities.

*Insert screeching break sounds here*

Suddenly, this could be a reality. Amazement ensued. Commence hurried selling of home, gathering of documents, picking of location, etc. and we were off. In a flash; destination, The Sunshine State. Holy SHIT was I scared. Leaving my family...gaaah! My sisters! Gaaaaah! My nieces and nephews! GAAAAAAH! (I'm still not over that one, so don't make me think about it, or I WILL cry. It's a given) We had dinner together the night before we left and I literally felt as though my heart was being ripped out of my chest. My family...gaaaah! I had torn asunder the family unit. The very family unit that had my Dad had his way would live all tidily on a Kennedy-esque compound very safely gathered under his wing, sheltered and protected. (Fat lot of good it did the Kennedy's, I mean really. I know, right? But come on, you get my point. The man takes his job seriously. Even today..which Dad? HULLO, we grew up. You did it. Now chill out, dude! :P)(He may or may not still lecture me every time we talk, even today. But you know...that's okay. I like to believe I am beyond reproach at this stage of the game, he likes to believe otherwise. We agree to disagree. It works for us. But anyway, I and my extreme overuse of the love that is the parentheses, we digress.)(Where were we...oh yes...)

We came to Florida initially on a T-1 VISA through the NAFTA agreement. I wont bore you with the details, but suffice it to say it was valid for one year and I spent a great amount of energy extending it yearly. Like 8 months of the year was focused on this crap. Commence stress and hair pulling, compounded by anxiety. Three years and $6000.00 into that routine, we had it changed to an H1B VISA, good for a certain length of time, still a temporary gig. Factor in a job change (which also meant a VISA change and another $4000.00) and you have us where we are at today. After 7 years on this one, we have no choice but to leave the country for a minimum period of one year.

Well, having brought us all up to date, it is now time for renewal. We very much hope to be able to get our green cards and work towards being here permanently. So, I have contacted several immigration attorneys to find out what this entails. let me share the truncated version with you. This is boring me.

$20,000.00 and three years until final go ahead to apply for a green card. Currently, the green cards for Canadian citizens trying to come to the USA is backlogged 5 years. Factor in however many additional backlog years that will come into play until the year 2010 when we could apply and I'm figuring we could probably be sworn in as citizens about the time we would like to be considering retirement.

Seriously. Best case scenario, we could apply for citizenship in 13 years. Okay, so early retirement, but still.

And then? A dear friend of mine asked me one simple question... That question being, is it worth it?

Some days, it really isn't. Some days I want nothing more than to go back to what in my heart, based on historical value and memories, feels like home. Yet when I am there, I don't want to be there. The physical location doesn't do a hell of a lot for me and I really love life here. Going back would be exactly that, going back.

And lets face it. The golf is better here. When I am on the golf course, it is most definitely worth it.

The lawyers advice? Do what everyone else on the planet who wants to come here does. Get my nursing degree.

Me, a student. Imagine.

So that is plan B, the more viable and MUCH less expensive option. And seriously? I started talking about nursing school no less than 20 years ago. Funny how fate does that, right? Comes up and bites you on the ass? Although really, my extended vacation has been sweet...like more than 6 years sweet. It looks like playtime may, in fact, be over.

The hubs? He is amused and I think kinda feels like this could mean early retirement for him while I secure our future.. Good thing he has a thing for nurses, cause if he doesn't change that line of thought he will need them. And possibly a few orthopedic surgeons. Just don't tell him I said so; deal?

I suppose that alternately, I could take Steen's advice and go vacation in Cuba and then swim back.

What do you mean that I dont look Cuban with the auburn hair and freckles?

Nice Car, Bondo.

2007-02-28T09:05:00.000-05:00

As I rounded the corner, I saw it parked there, in front of her house. The color of a swimming pool bottom, your beloved mustang; her state of disrepair being responsible for your moniker. 1967, if I recall correctly? Or that is what year she would be, if you had one today. This much I know for certain. There you were, perched on the hood; leaned back against the windshield and eating a soft-serve ice cream cone from The Igloo Drive In. The new guy in my proverbial small town.

The latest disposable of hers. I didn't like you. You were cocky and arrogant, with your lifeguard's mentality and physique; the one I admired but would die before admitting to. Breezing in, with your fast car and your DJ's music collection; the new cop's kid. Upsetting the balance that was in place. Distracting her, when she had the only set of wheels amongst us and our only distraction was cruising main street.

She tossed us the keys, told us to have fun. Balance restored. The 'bad girl' who had breezed into town before you and stayed. She had other plans. Plans that included you, temporarily. A couple weeks later it was done. She passed you off as better suited to someone else. That someone else she named as me. I scoffed, didn't want her leftovers.

Summer saw us employed at the gas station, which became the local hangout, for our group. You became something other than that guy with the car. I was intrigued. A trip to Essie's after work, with Brian and Char coming to fetch us and bring us home. Steamy windows in the backseat as we kissed.

We dated. We became an item. Six months later you walked into the kitchen as I was making lunch for my Dad. You told me you wanted to see other people. I turned, knife in hand, and calmly asked if we could do this later. Maintained my composure.

The next six months I moped, driving my Mom crazy. Telling her I was just dumped by the only guy I would ever love. The guy I was supposed to marry. Maudlin. Juvenile. Teen aged angst. I finally got over it, and you. Life went on.

Sometimes life was hard. Sometimes I made it harder. Sometimes the decisions I made had my family questioning my sanity. Sometimes I didn't so much as make decisions, but watched indecision run my life.

Laundry beckoned. This single mom, at the Laundromat, washing clothes for the week. Weary. My kid, playing in the play area.

There you were. Blue eyes, smiling. Tentative conversation, not too much to say. Asking the usual questions of each other, expecting the usual responses. Both on the tail end of involved.

Laundry became the highlight instead of the tedium. Good days were measured by the times that I chose the right day. Unless she was there with you, then it was awkward. The number of times she happened to be there trickled to none.

I got brave and called you. Made small talk and then said goodbye. You got brave and called me back fifteen minutes later. We went out that night, my parents happened to have the boy. I happened to stay overnight. We did the morning-after dance, neither wanting too much of anything; or at least saying so.

We became 'friends'. We haven't been apart since. Nearly twenty years have passed since that ice cream cone, and now you make tentative plans about what kind of car to restore with our teenaged son. The one you call your own and have raised as such.

I love you more today, Bondo.

*Steen asked a very long time ago about The Leester and I, for some history. This is my version of those events. His would probably go something like this: I dunno, lemme ask Dee.*

**Am very good at answering inquiries in a timely and orderly fashion.**

What's My Excuse?

2007-02-24T10:40:00.000-05:00

A day in the life of.....

Me: Oldilocks, have you been soaking your teeth overnight like I told you to?

Oldilocks: What?

Me: Have you been taking your teeth out at night and soaking them so that they are clean?

Oldilocks: I've never soaked my teeth before, ever. ('I've never' is the standard response to everything. Chicken breasts? Never had them. A shower? Never take one. Clean laundry? Never heard of it. Driven home, on the same road daily? Never EVER been down this road before.)

Me: Yes honey, you have. You know the tablets we got you? In the box? Called polident?

Oldilocks: I tried, but those tablets taste AWFUL!

Me, aghast: No, no, no, no! You don't chew the tablets, you soak your teeth in a cup of water with one of the tablets!

Obviously, I've changed my method of instruction to include repeated demonstration.

-----

On the other hand....

The number of times I was required to run the same load of dishes through the dishwasher before I figured out that I needed to remove the outer plastic wrapper from the Electrasol tablet? The one so clearly marked 'Remove plastic wrapper from tablet before placing in main soap dispenser'?

Three.

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why the plastic wasn't just dissolving, like it always had. (duh, these are tabs, not the gelpaks.)

-----

She has dementia. What is my excuse?

The Good and The Really Phoque-ing Annoying...

2007-02-22T17:50:00.000-05:00

The Good: When I see a glimpse of the Oldilocks I fell in love with and she is able to regale me with tales of her history, a smile on her face and a spring in her step.

The Bad: When the dementia kicks in and she does shit like refuse to go get her hair done by "Some Foreigner".

The Bad: My husbands springtime obsession with his car, in getting ready for the Spring Break Nationals car audio competition.

The Good: When I see that he has a dead battery from leaving the ignition turned on while phoque-ing around with his stereo (and forgetting to turn the key off) and his boss at work is forced to give him a boost. (The justice, she is poetic.)

The Good: The sound of a gaggle of teen aged boys, playing a four-way head to head game of something or other on XBox in the prodigies room and knowing that my kid has made some really great friends. Also good, the fact that these other kids are respectful, nice kids who enjoy being here and are comfortable enough in my home to be here after school every day, instead of me wondering what my son is up to.

The Bad: My grocery bill, in keeping them in after school snacks. (I'm really not complaining though, because it is everything I want, as a Mom. I strive to be the family with the house they gather at. It makes me feel accomplished and successful.)

The Bad: How I cant seem to keep the edge out of my voice sometimes when I am on the phone with my Mom, because I know hearing me vent can be very hard on her spirit. Which is kind, loving, giving and thoughtful. I can be a HUGE pain in the ass, and I know when shit spews out of my mouth, it is a burden on her. Yet I cant seem to control it.

The Good: How she never judges me for it, keeps me real in speaking the truth, even when I DON'T want to hear it and mostly; how much better I ALWAYS feel after talking to her, even though I am not going to admit it to her. What are you, phoque-ing crazy??

The Good: Golf. Need I say more?

The Bad: That I wont be doing any this weekend.

And before you all think I have forgotten, which I haven't, the letter of the day is 'H'.

My favorite H thing? My friend....well, H; for the sake of her anonymity. She was indeed my first friend here in Florida and is the true epitome of the Southern Belle. She is sweet and funny and kind. She is a Mother, a Wife, a Daughter and Granddaughter and excels at all of them. She is fiercely loyal and caring. She is a big enough person to admit her errors and make them right...like the time she pulled the ultimate in rebellion and ran off and married her childhood boyfriend, without the approval of wellllll..anyone (and much to the chagrin of those who loved her, but cut her some slack, she was very young and very foolhardy, at the time). Some wouldn't have recovered so eloquently from the fallout, but she climbed back out of the trenches, somewhat broken and bruised; and made life better for her and her son. She is a wonderful person and although I don't see her nearly as often as I would choose, I love her dearly and think of her often. She is the kind of friend that you can go months without hearing from and then pick up as though not a day has passed. I feel blessed to have her in my corner.

I love you H. *muah*

And the very, very best? The comments left by my beloved family and friends after my last post. When I ask them not to follow-up, they rally around me and just let me know they are here when I need them, even if they skirt the subject with silliness. I love you guys.

P.S. If I am forced to see anything else about Britney Spears or Anna Nicole Smith, I will gladly gouge my eyes out with a phoque-ing butter knife. Anna Nicole Smith makes me very sad and I alternate between wanting to hug Britney and bitch-slap her. The poor kid.

That is all. BUH-BYE for now.

The Diagnosis Is In:

2007-02-20T13:10:00.000-05:00

Oldilocks is old. Huh...imagine that.

Seriously though, there is nothing that can be done to alleviate that which ails her aside from surgery. And? You guessed it. We wont be entertaining any such thing, for the obvious reasons. What we will do, however, is make sure that her days, however numbered, are as comfortable and content as can be managed.

God Bless sugar cookies, tea, Turner Classic movies, the fireplace, Woman's Day and Good Housekeeping magazines. For now. And if He sees fit, that she improve and can go do things she is wont to do. Things like having her hair done and having a lunch and movie date.

I love her to pieces and I hope and pray her suffering is next to none, that she is able to weather this stage of her life gracefully and with some pleasure.

No sooner do I type that I get a quick dousing of the unforgiving cold that is dementia when I am informed by someone close to her that I never do anything for her, never speak to her, never spend any time with her, never take care of her; according to her. These are the things she says, after I wait on her hand and foot. Some days it gets to be a heavy thing to carry and I have to remind myself not to take it personally, when my knee-jerk reaction is to think that if she is so miserable here perhaps she would like a 10x10 room in a nursing home more.

*Give me strength too, please.

---------

A typical Tuesday Morning conversation at the household of The Family G:

Me: **Dude! Your sock drawer is HURTING. I think it is time we do some sock shopping for you.
Hubs: My sock drawer sox.
Me: It really does. And they are rocking nothing off of anyone. They are so holy they should go to church.
Hubs: Darn socks!

A few minutes later:

Me: I just found eight pairs of your socks in the sock drawer belonging to our son.
Hubs: Darn him, too!

---------

In other news, I am currently having something of a struggle regarding ***self-image and consequently, my perspective is skewed. Please forgive the sporadic postings while I pull my head out of my ass. Or as some would more eloquently put it, get my act together.

Maybe it is Winter Doldrums.

---------

*I don't need any follow-up phone calls checking up on my mental state and well being, dear family and friends. I am just venting and would rather not verbalize that which might make me less than pleasant to talk to. Thank you for your understanding.

**I totally do use this word as much as I convey here, even though it is dorky and I am not thirteen. I love the word Dude. By the way...where is my car?

***I reiterate *1.0 and again thank you again for your understanding.

---------

And On The Seventh Day, He Rested.

2007-02-16T13:31:00.000-05:00

The Leester and I decided that having a three-car garage and barely being able to park one car in it because of the random CRAP (by my definition, a car audio/fiberglass/upholstery work shop by his) that is in there is a problem. So, in our infinite wisdom, we decided to clear out some of the random crap not directly related to his current project by putting it up on Craigslist.

The Good News?

God is very interested in the 15 gallons of wall paint that we have sitting in the garage in three, 5 gallon pails. So much so that we have been offered a tax deduction receipt if we will so kindly donate it to a church that is moving to a new building and needs a face lift.

The Leester's suggestion?

Tell God we are Jewish.

See, I so much as type it and I laugh to the point that tears stream down my face because it is just SO funny on SO many levels. (All of them wrong, I know.) But the dude seriously cracks. my. shit. up.

Am I going to go to hell for saying God and shit in the same post?

Anyway...all joking aside, God gets the paint. For free. That is just some mojo you don't want to mess with. Assuming that the church in question holds the same core beliefs held by Christians, of course. Cause no other god is getting free paint from me. That is just how I roll.

Who In Their Right Mind...

2007-02-14T23:15:00.000-05:00

Who in their right mind writes a post at this hour?? Good thing I never claimed to be in my right mind then, isn't it?

Life continues at a hectic pace, and here I sit at 11:16 this Valentines day, just decompressing. For those curious, this one passes like all the ones preceding it, without fanfare. Surprised? Yeah...me either.

One day I will get him trained. Trained to not attempt to convince me that this day is a Colombian conspiracy in order to validate drug running flights with the pretense of the delivery of the multitudes of roses being flown in for American saps buying into the hullabaloo that dictates they should gift them to their wives, girlfriends and significant others on this Hallmark day.

And one day, his sex life will improve drastically. Until then? February 14th is no different than February 13th or February 15th.

Yeah...alright then.

This week has not been fun; Oldilocks is in the hospital, currently awaiting an MRI (after countless other tests, x-rays, CT-Scans etc.). I brought her in on Monday after two weeks of debilitating pain that has seen her rocking back and forth in a chair, unable to do anything else. The Doctors worry that she may have a compression fracture of the spine, due to old age. Her poor old bones. I feel very sad for her and quite helpless to make this better for her. Keep your fingers crossed for me, please? I am her least favorite person right now, as I forced her to seek medical attention...for the second time in no less than 50 years. If she could summon them, lightening bolts would have stricken me dead by now.

I have this effect on people.

Am cool like that.

I hope everyone has had a wonderful lovey day...and I will be in touch soon.

Huge superficial kisses and hugs and whatever else is in keeping with this holiday.

This one that I hate with the heat of a thousand fiery suns.

Yeah.

TGIF

2007-02-09T10:21:00.000-05:00

And that's all I have to say about that. I leave you with this, which I <3 really alot.

Yes, I know it is just a black screen but it was either that or a redirect with a bunch of advertisements. Enjoy. Have a good weekend.

Well Hello, Tuesday's Child!

2007-02-06T08:09:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a complete wipe (Pun intended? You know me by now, you decide!) due to the other members of this household all being down and out with a stomach bug, but we have survived. Shew. Good thing I make a mean homemade chicken noodle soup, isn't it?

Today's letter is 'G'...and without further ado, I will share my favorite thing beginning with this letter. Can anyone guess? Anyone?

Right...like no one saw that coming. Speaking of, it's been two weeks since I have done any golfing. Damn company and other various obligations, always getting in the way...sheesh!

Must go rectify that, off to book a tee time. Before I go though, can you guess whose favorite Super Bowl commercial this is?

BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Sunshine And Roses

2007-02-04T10:11:00.000-05:00

Apparently my Mom and Dad get a real kick out of this commercial and it keeps them in stitches. Their claim? That it reminds them of me.

.....and not because of quitting smoking. Just me. Oddly enough, I don't really disagree with them!

Sunshine and roses, I tell you, sunshine and roses. Want to be my friend?

*insert maniacal laughter here*

F, You Too

2007-02-02T07:41:00.000-05:00

Miss me? The week has been busy, busy, with mucho running around. The Prodigy has required lab work, in anticipation of his next appointment with the pediatric (I know, seems weird that he sees a Doctor with the word pediatric in his title when The Prodigy is bigger than a lot of fully grown men) endocrinologist and since we have moved to the back forty (seriously, easily an hour commute (factoring in morning traffic, since they were fasting labs and it would have been cruel to make him wait till it was convenient for me) either way to the stupid lab our insurance requires us to go to) it is a trip that I cant just dash out and make. Imagine how pleased I was when that very lab called me informing me they had done the wrong tests and could I please bring him back the following day. Yeah. So wipe out two mornings, right there. Factor in the old ladies demands and I haven't had much free time.

So, here we are. Happy Friday and a great big 'F' to you.

I had initially thought to rave about my beloved FAMILY, namely my spouse, but since he saw fit to start my day by pissing me off prior to 6:30 this morning (after yet ANOTHER call before 5:00 in the morning that was a wrong number, when the person on the dialing end didn't really believe it was a wrong number and I was forced to stand there and explain to her, through my half asleep haze, all the while Oldilocks is on the extension in her bedroom rapidly repeating "Hello, hello, hello, hello" over. and. over., thereby slowing the whole process and ensuring that I was wide awake at 4:45am and didn't doze off again until after my. beloved. F-ing. husbands. alarm. clock. went. off.)and I am feeling rather stabby right now; this post sure isn't going to be about him. So there is that.

Probably best that I leave that F'er right out of this post altogether from here on...

I could speak about my FRIENDS, but I am not so great in that department, since mostly I like to be left alone and am quite comfortable maintaining said friendships via this here fancy-schmancy-magic-box that I am typing on.

Let me see....FOOD? Nah, I suppose not.

FLORIDA. I hear the sun still shines here today, although not in my portion of the State of that very claim to fame. There is only room for ONE ray of F'ing sunshine in my immediate vicinity and that, my friends, would be me.

And on that note? Have a nice F'ing weekend. See you Monday, if not before.

What Color Is The Sky In Your World?

2007-01-30T13:14:00.000-05:00

My favorite 'E' thing is my friend DARE! And she can be the 'E' thing because I said so and sometimes, that sky is whatever color I make it. Because *I* rule my world, not you! You're not the boss of me! So there!

Daaaaare sent me the single most amazing care package in the world (which? the shipping? It may have cut drastically into her kids college funds because OH. MY. GOD. $40.00!!!!!), which I received yesterday; the very bleak and cold Monday that it was. She totally made my day and set off a string of very unlikely positives that I am entirely convinced wouldn't have happened, otherwise. Things like my regular old ATM (which is now a 45 minute drive away)being temporarily out of service which led me to a banking facility much closer to where I live now and saving me a helluva drive (since our bank is in J-Ville and there were very few shared ATM's to accept deposits, hence the long-assed drive and countless frustration of having to deal with traffic), which put me next to a store where I found the coolest accessories for my office, which I never would have happened across otherwise. See? The coolest! She is like, totally magic. Just don't piss her off or she will unleash her mad Ninja skillz on you and you. will. pay. Don't say I didn't warn you.

She also just recently got a major role in the Vagina Monologues so if you go visit her at her blog she will talk to you about the Big 'O'. What more can you ask for?

So Dare-ee-oh, cheers to you my friend! I pink puffy heart you!

As an aside, you can click the picture and it'll take you to my Flickr page where you can read the details of what was in it. But just let me say this...Tim Hortons coffee. On what has proved to be one of the coldest mornings in Florida for a year. She planned it. I'm tellin ya...Ninja skills.

D-Day

2007-01-29T07:25:00.000-05:00

What? Did you think I had already given up, only three letters in? I couldn't very well post on Friday or over the weekend and give anyone the impression that they could expect updates around here with any regularity, could I? I thought not. You understand then? Good. I'm glad we had this little chat. On with it you say? Oh. Okay already, gawd! You don't have to be all bitchy about it..geez!

Today is 'D' day, as referenced in the title. How is that for originality?! I lay in bed last night thinking of what to tell you about today, if you can believe that. How sad is it that I lay in bed thinking about what to blog?! Kind of makes you wonder about the lack of content (read: ME) when you suddenly realize that I actually put thought into this, doesn't it?? Scary.

ANYWAYS...D-Day. Excuse the tangent, once again I am easily distracted by the shiny. Oooh look, a pretty butterfly...

*ahem*

I could tell you about my love for my dog, Divot, who is a 'D' on both accounts, since he is an amazing little creature who brings much joy to my world and is a definite member of the family and totally my baby. Or I could keep it generic and tell you that I choose my DELL as my 'D' item, because without it there would BE no blog or gaming or BIFFS or Internet anything. Or I could have said my favorite 'D" was the Dominican Republic, where my little sister MOLLY (read: lucky bitch) and her husband Shig (read: best Christmas present giver in the world) are going for vacation in a few days. But those seemed kind of like the easy way out when what my real favorite 'D' thing is:

My Dad.

I am 38. (gasp). Good God it is almost painful to say it, but I did. I am 38 years old and honestly, I am still admittedly a Daddy's girl. Even when he drives me friggin crazy (which he does, a truly astounding feat from 3000 miles away, God love him and his overprotective/overbearing self.) If I am ever feeling uncertain(read:immigration) or in peril(read:9/11), I still hold in the back of my mind my last option: Call Dad to come get me. It has always been the ace up my sleeve. It has always been my biggest comfort, knowing that I had it if I needed it. Silly? You might think so, but it is what it is. I had the kind of parents who always told me that if I needed an out, I had one. Just make the call. I never did, but you never know. I will, if I ever need to and there is huge comfort in that. For me. Not so much for them, I'm sure. Here they thought they were done and are sighing and rolling their eyes, thinking 'Dear Lord give me strength'. But anyways, this isn't 'P' day, for parents, its about my Dad. So back off Mom, and wait for M, alright?

Back to My Dad..

The guy who didn't have it all as a kid. Hell, he didn't even have it anywhere close to easy, growing up, but you wont hear him complain. You wont hear him tell the details of what had him join the Navy at an extremely young age as a means of getting out of the house he grew up in, he just doesn't do it. I've asked him, plenty of times, and on the rare occasion he shares but it isn't something he likes to speak of. He doesn't dwell on it. It doesn't control his world. I believe it has shaped him, but it hasn't defined him. It made him strive to do more. To do more and to be more. More of a parent, more of a spouse. More upstanding and moral and a better person, overall. It made him who he is today and as painful as I am certain it was to be where he was as a little boy, it helped make him a truly great man. And I am thankful for it. Because it allowed me and my brother and sisters to grow up in a house where there was no question.

No question of who loved us--We were told each and every single day that we were loved, by both my Mom and Dad.

No question of where our next meal would come from or where we would live--We had the good fortune of living in the same town, on the same street, from as far back as I can recall until when the last of us four kids moved out. (Granted, the minute we did, Mom and Dad sold the house for something smaller in hopes of seeing (read: supporting) the last of us and the many vagrant friends we brought home over the years. It didn't work. just sayin...).

No question about right or wrong--We knew, without a doubt, the difference between the two because he didn't just dictate it, he led by example and lives it.

No question about what is truly important in life--That a man's riches really do not mean a thing when it comes down to it, but that being honorable, upstanding, honest and of good character are far more important than how much money a man might have in his pockets.

I could go on indefinitely about the value of the lessons my Dad taught me in life. I really could, but this is already registering waaaaay too heavy on the Cheeseometer and I just cant do it. Suffice it to say that my Dad is one of the people nearest and dearest to me and I adore him. I think the world of him and he is definitely my hero.

He also is the funnest dude I know to sit down and partake in a couple of glasses of wine with (much to the chagrin of my mother since she has to deal with his headachey self the next day).

And? Check this out:

Not only is he handsome as hell, but he golfs! Hellooo...common interest! Can you guess what our favorite thing to do when he is around is? Exactly!

So, there ya have it. The D, it is DONE.

Brought to you by the letter 'C'

2007-01-25T08:35:00.000-05:00

How is it that in the blink of an eye, what was once this:

Turns into this:

And then suddenly into this, before you know what happened?

Unbelievable. Call me maudlin today or something, but hold your babies close. It doesn't last anywhere near long enough. Mine towers over me now and suddenly his voice deepens.

Wish me luck as I venture into the land known as adolescence. I hope he is easier on me than I was on my parents, although I am readying myself for payback. I'm told (by those very same parents) that it is a bitch. And that I really do have it coming. Which I cant even dispute.

And on that note, today's letter is 'C' and already I am questioning my sanity in this whole 26 days of gratitude thing. Three whole days into it. I sort of want to gnash my teeth at having to be all grateful for things publicly and trying to do so without sounding like a friggin hallmark moment. Which for me? Just arent happening. It is making my scalp itch.

*grumble*

*newsflash*

The conversation I just had with the prodigy less than one minute ago started like this:

"Mom, I just puked on my bedroom floor."

*/newsflash*

I've changed my mind. Grow up FAST. Like, now. Hurry! What are you waiting for? I'm timing you. Well?! HURRY!

Suddenly, the 'C' thing I am thankful for?

Cleansers.

I think it best that I leave that whole piss-off segment of today alone (because it would involve chunks), mmkay? Mmkay.

BuBuBu-Bee

2007-01-24T11:54:00.000-05:00

Because I promised, today's gratitude is brought to you by the letter B. And the number 2. Since this is some kind of record lately, my posting two days in a row. Yeah, yeah, I know. Bite me. At any rate...

*drumroll*

BABIES

I HEART babies. ALL babies. Cute ones, ugly ones, short ones, fat ones, nappy ones. There is little in life than is cuter than a baby. Baby ANYTHING, be it human, canine or amphibian. Okay, well maybe not spiders. Even baby spiders are bad. But other than that? Babies are good.

The B I like least?

The fact that my only BABY is growing up so fast. I wish I could freeze time and just keep him like this for a while. He is changing so rapidly and becoming this man. All things good and bad about being a man. Like the appetite. And the size. And the attitude. And the stinky man farts.

Okay, so maybe that last bit was too much info. Cope.

Also, I'm digging the letter B today for the word brown. Which is the color I am currently dying my hair. Goodbye for now, redhead. Welcome to the world of brunette. I'll post pictures later, barring any unforeseen disasters, of course.

I do have to say though, that anywhere that sells hair dye should refuse to sell it to people with really long hair on principle alone. It is a COMPLETE pain in the ass to self dye hair when it gets to a certain length. Too bad I am too much of a cheapskate to pay someone upwards of $175.00 to do it for me.

My bad.

Blah Blah Blah Gratitude Cakes And All that...

2007-01-23T10:37:00.000-05:00

The start of the A-Z thingamajiggy brings you my sincere appreciation for....

*drum roll*

ACETAMINOPHEN!

Oh, lovely little white tablet with the astounding ability to rid my life of those garden variety aches and pains that often plague me. What would I do without you? Where would I be without your 1500mg (blatant over usage, indeed. Cant have too much of a good thing, dontcha know) of blissful pain relief? I can totally overlook the fact that you were once used as a vehicle to transport that meanie, cyanide, in order to kill those poor unsuspecting folks. It was just that one run of bad times and the rest have been golden years, for you. Your chalky, bitter, little powdery pills that I have difficulty swallowing prevent me from having to languish on the sofa while I await the pain and suffering to alleviate. How do I appreciate thee? Let me count the ways. You are the first thing I turn to along with a huge glass of water when I am punished for imbibing in too much wine.

Acetaminophen, I LOVE YOU!

(Did you really expect anything else? Angels? Apples? Afros? Abalones? Appalachians? I mean come on...whose blog is this again? yeah, that's what I thought you'd say)

My A-1 piss off?

ASSHOLES

Enough said.

p.s. That whole 105 things for 105 posts? 105 things=commitment. Me+commitment= Not so much. Don't wait around too long for it.

Tell me why I dont like Mondays...

2007-01-22T18:04:00.000-05:00

My friend H had a suggestion for bloggage, 26 things from A-Z to be thankful for. Sounds like a plan. Too keep it from becoming too saccharine I believe I will compound that theme with 26 things from A-Z that piss me off. Watch for that then, yes?

Also, this is post number 104 on this blog. My friend Dare just posted her list of 100 things as it was her 100th post. Shall I bore you to tears and make you grind through 105 nonsensical factoids about me for my 105th? (Not to imply that Dare is boring and that her 100 things were nonsensical but frankly...heh. I jest, Dare, really.)

I am weary today. Woe is me. This life of Mondays on the golf course..in Florida...it is too much to bear. *swoon*

Yeah right! My life kicks some serious ass. Even if I am the last in line for the shower when there is company about. In. my. own. damn. house.

Friggin company! They are like fish. After three days, they start to stink.

We went for a bite to eat after we finished our round of golf (the round in which I could not break 100) and The Hubs decided to have a jerk chicken sandwich. So, whilst waiting for his food he turns to me and states: "They should call it the bitch chicken sandwich. Then you could order it too."

If you happen to see his face on the back of a milk carton, trust that his demise was painful. ;)

Random Friday Musings and Five Things About Me.

2007-01-19T07:59:00.000-05:00

My 'hold music' on my cellphone is Shakira's Hips don't lie. I leave it with that one solely because I love how much it annoys Molly, my little sister. She constantly reminds me that I am not 17 years old, nor am I a thirteen year old boy and that my use of the word Dude is entirely unacceptable. To Molly , I say: Duuuude! You know you love me. To my hips, I say: Duuuude! You bitches have been lying to me pretty much since I WAS that seventeen year old she refers to. You had better shape up, got it?

--

1.) I have an irrational fear of being crushed to death by an overpass. When coming to a stoplight beneath one, my pulse quickens and I get slightly panicky. I try and make sure that I am between those looming steel girders in the event that it might fall (duh--so I can use my mad ninja skills, undo seat belts (am law abiding ninja) of all vehicle occupants and make them lie flat across the seats so that when the overpass comes crashing down around us we can just lie in wait for the rescue personnel...that's why, of course!). I have also been known to rush through a yellow light to avoid having to stop under one.

--

We currently have house guests, which is pretty much a regular January occurrence at the Casa G. Something about snowbirds and Canadian winters or some such. While the visit is going swimmingly, this is my first encounter with someone who is extremely OCD and all I have to say about that is, DAAAAAMN! I cant imagine that being my life and I am thankful it is not. But having said that? The Casa G is beyond clean and there is not a stitch of laundry to be found. The person visiting who has it? Beyond sweet and we are all growing very fond of her, which is good, as it appears she is a keeper.

--

2.) I was once hit by a truck. The truck was travelling at a speed of 45mph upon impact. I was thrown over 100ft and landed on my coconut. And you wondered why... Meh. For more back story on that, tune in later. It'll become fodder for some day when there is nothing. to. say.

--

Do you people watch The Office yet? I TOLD you to, some time ago. If not? You are seriously missing out, because it is the absolute best show that is on the box. Start watching, immediately. Got it?

--

3.) I am afraid of clowns, the dark and holes. As in the holes in sponges or anything remotely resembling such holes. Anything bugs might crawl out of. *shudder*. I also cannot stand the feel of cardboard, it makes my teeth hurt to touch it. Gah.

--

The Weekend plan is Universal Studios and golfing, with the house guests. Perhaps a trip to Daytona Beach, weather permitting.

--

4.) The older I get, the less I like people. I used to be unable to sit still, for fear I might miss out on something, when I was younger. Now I find that people just complicate things, for me. I find solace in silence and pretty much like to be left alone. I believe that some of the people in my life mistake this for depression and fear that I am lonely. I consider it growing up and becoming comfortable with who I am. If I end up owning thirty cats though? Strike up the intervention music and get me the hell out, will you?

--

I am not a big fan of ice cream. It makes me cough. The Hubs would tell you that everything makes me cough. He would be right. One more reason it is a good thing I quit smoking.

--

5.) I am a HUGE fan of all things Dr. Seuss. The area known as Seuss Landing at Universal Studios is my happy place. It reminds me of everything that is right about childhood and smells like candy. What more could one ask for?

--

I appreciate you guys stopping by, even when I am not posting very regularly. Those of you that know me are the people I choose to have in my life, not the ones that I cant handle and find complicated and annoying. Just don't plan an unscheduled drop-in and we will be fine, mmkay?

Mmkay.

--

That hottie, Chris Botti

2007-01-16T07:51:00.000-05:00

Wow, I am really on a roll with this whole blogging thing this start of 2007. Astounding! Equally astounding? The flame war that has taken place here in this little known space of mine. Craziness, I tell you; crazy!

Anywho..onward and upward!

This Friday just past, The Leester and I went to see a concert, which was really a great time. I must be getting old or something because gone are the days of KISS concerts (duh, like I didn't just age myself right there...hello!) and welcome are the evenings of jazz musicians. Ninety percent of people I told didn't have a CLUE who Christ Botti is, so for those people, I give you this. Go have a look-see for yourself. He is really awesome.

Granted, it doesn't hurt that here he is performing with the likes of the mighty STING. Or that his first professional gig was a trumpet solo for the great Frank Sinatra. Or that his band was freakin phenominal. AMAZING. Especially the guitarist, Mark Whitfield (Whom I may have fallen slightly in love with, during his performance. The Hubs doesnt mind though. When I told him I would be leaving him for Mark Whitfield, he simply wished me luck with that. Isn't he kind and giving? *swoon*). And a BADASS Billy Kilson on drums. BAD. ASS.

I told The Leester that I would like to make 2007 the year of attending live musical performances.

So...consider that your musical edumacation for the day, yes?

Drawing Blanks...

2007-01-08T09:22:00.000-05:00

You know, this is my third attempt at a blog post that will be worth reading in 2007 and I am drawing a complete blank. I just don't have anything at all to say. (Me..the loud-mouth of the century. I know, its weird, isn't it?)

I'm not sure why, but just staring at this screen is enough to make me want to gnash my teeth, throw my hands up and stomp off. Perhaps it is residual post-move feelings of being unsettled..who knows. Perhaps it is just not something I have much interest in doing anymore, except that I really do..if I had something to say. Or perhaps it is because my life is fairly mundane and I figure that dragging you all through it with me four times a week has got to bore you guys as much as it sometimes bores me. What do ya say? Do I keep this up? Do I mix up the format somewhat and attempt to write other things as well? Maybe some lame-assed attempts at creative writing so you can point fingers and laugh at my inadequacies? Weekly recipes? Astute observations on things like religion and politics? (If anything is going to make someone gnash their teeth, that pretty much has to be it; right?) My ongoing attempts at getting into better physical condition, a workout journal (or lack thereof) and diet tips? Dirty pictures? (kidding on that one, sorry pervs!)

Man, I totally need to pull myself up by the bootstraps here, because this funk is turning into a veritable mire. One that has taken place as a result of my being offline during the great move of 2006 and getting out of the habit of updating. Bad, bad idea.

Thoughts?

A resolution I can effortlessly keep!

2007-01-05T11:42:00.001-05:00

In the year 2007 I resolve to:
Procrastinate more.

Get your resolution here.

Oldilocks and the Three Bears

2007-01-05T09:27:00.000-05:00

Oldilocks. That is The prodigy's nickname for my little old lady friend. It cracks me up completely because it is so cute and not meant to be at all derogatory. Also, it pretty much sums up how she has been handling the move, thus far, still trying to find the 'fits just right'. So, henceforth, the little old lady shall be known to the Blogosphere as Oldilocks. I have put up a couple new pictures over at Flickr, for those interested. You can easily reach them by clicking the picture below or the link in my sidebar.

In the meantime, try not to let this hellcat get you! (explanation given over at flickr.)

Have a great weekend, everyone! See you on Monday, if not before.

Oh wow, an update...of sorts.

2007-01-03T12:54:00.000-05:00

How is it that I can be offline for more than two weeks, be in the midst of huge changes for The Family G, set everything and everyone upside down and on it's ear and still have jack shit to write about, you ask?

Because I am just THAT good.

Actually, I am finding myself quite overwhelmed by all of it, but in a good way. This house is beyond big, it is ridiculous, yet there seems to be a plethora of things that have yet to find a proper home and we seem to be struggling for room. There is something seriously wrong with that, if you ask me. Ah well, it'll come. That is what I keep telling myself. My little old lady friend that now lives with us is very confused and off-kilter, and I worry for her well being. I am hoping she will settle in nicely but it is a series of huge changes for her and she is pretty cranky. I can only imagine, though, how she must be feeling with all of this. Her memory is failing her (after a stroke last February, for those who were unaware) and she keeps trying to make everything exactly like she had it in the apartment she moved out of. An impossible feat, truly. I have tried to replicate her bedroom and living room for her and so far I am doing pretty good, I think. I sure hope she will be okay!

The Prodigy and The Hubs are coping with the changes very well and are certainly doing their part. The Hubs has taken it upon himself to entertain her by doing jigsaw puzzles with her, which is a study in the absurd, considering her eyesight is failing and she just sits there staring at the pieces. I tease him, asking if he is attempting to bore her to death. She is happy to have the company though and we have completed one of the LOST puzzles. I too have been bitten by the bug, it is a wild concoction of collage type pictures that hold hidden clues to the TV show, for those interested. It comes jumbled in the box with no picture for reference so it takes effort. It makes it double challenging when every time Little Old lady gets up she drags about 5 pieces onto the floor with the sleeves of her cardigan, which Divot loves to chew!

Divot also LOVES to swim, almost as much as The Prodigy does. Thankfully, he doesn't go in the pool without the boy, but every time the boy jumps in, so does the dog. It totally cracks me up.

On that note, here are some pictures, more to follow of the interior of the house, once I get it in a suitable state to be photographed!

Now that The Prodigy is back in school and the holiday season is past us, expect more frequent posts. I promise.

My How The Time Flies

2006-12-26T08:27:00.000-05:00

Even when you are not having fun, it seems. I find it hard to believe that it has been twelve days since I last posted anything here. A truncated version of the goings on at The Casa G:

We have moved. We are getting settled and things are getting unpacked and put away. Christmas has come and gone and I managed to get a tree put up and decorated (on Christmas eve), cook the traditional turkey dinner, get the shopping done and wrapped with some element of surprise for the Prodigy.

Number of pictures taken of the day's festivities: 0
Number of times one seriously old lady fell asleep mid-conversation: 3
Number of Danielle Steele books one seriously old lady wrapped and gave to my husband and son for Christmas: 2
Number of times I was forced to conceal laughter behind my hand at such occasion: 834

Craziness ensues. Pictures to follow of the new home etc.

Be well, everyone (assuming my absense of the last twelve days has not come at the price of my entire readership, of course). I hope your holidays have been a blessed occasion.

That For Which I Shall Surely Burn....

2006-12-13T13:57:00.000-05:00

No, not that; this! I invite you to view the contents of my freezer. Which? If not sinful is surely criminal.

Dear Cholesterol and Heart Health:
Please have mercy on this poor family. I promise this is very temporary and will cease just as soon as we are finished moving. It is just that the kitchen is entirely packed, save for some paper plates and this crap. We shall continue with the nice, healthy, homemade foods just as soon as we are settled. I promise.

Tuesday, Already??

2006-12-12T13:43:00.000-05:00

The packing, it is hell. If you do not see anything new from me tomorrow, please call 911. It will surely mean I am trapped under a heavy box.

In the meantime, please follow this link and vote for Rock Star Mommy, she has been nominated for a 2006 blog award, in the category of best parenting blog. She is fun, funny and more than just a little bit crazy.

target="_blank">
src="http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a167/dayrionsmom/Vote-for-RSM--Deanna.gif"

border="0" alt="Made by Mama Jen">

Now be nice and go vote, okay??

*edited to add: If I wasn't completely stunned in the ways of the coding, you'd see a nice flashy little button. Unfortunately for you and me both (especially me) I am the stunned one. So just click that mess and go vote anyways. Or I may start to feel a little stabby. And we dont want that. Trust me.*

TGIF

2006-12-08T15:17:00.000-05:00

Ah yes, 'tis Friday. I love Friday and I don't even work, so what's up with that? It is 45 minutes and counting until beer-thirty! Wooot!

See you Monday, if not before.

Will Wonders Never Cease....

2006-12-07T15:34:00.000-05:00

A second post in one day. Imagine! Duly challenged by Tracey C. over at Picture This, this is me; right now. Fresh out of the shower, packing done for the day.

Join in on the fun, will you?

In the spirit of keeping the challenge going, I hereby tag Carrisa, Kait, Kim, Dare and Steen to be today's lemmings. The premise is, you come as you are. A picture of you, the minute you read this, posted on your blog. Challenge your friends, invite 4 more.

Please play nice, wont you??

Brought to you by the letter 'P' and the number 'Oh My God, I've sunk to new depths here'.

2006-12-07T13:23:00.000-05:00

My Partner would Proclaim that I have a Proclivity for Procrastination, to which I would Protest and Probably Pout. Possibly, I have a Plethora of Productivity issues as Pronounced by my Powerlessness to bring you something more Poignant than today's Post. Perchance a Penchant for Pithiness?

Now Please, nothing Personal, but Piss off; I've a Pile of Packing to Proceed with.

Abducted By Aliens.

2006-12-06T11:10:00.000-05:00

Sure, The Prodigy came home, certificate and lapel pin in hand, proclaiming that he was appointed; but a small part of me wondered if perhaps he beat up a small kid and took it as his own. Because that is the kind of child I probably deserve to have had. No, really. You know how your parents say "Just wait till you grow up and have kids of your own. Just you wait! Payback is a bitch." You didn't hear that? Seriously? Well, nevermind that bit then.

Anywho, as I was saying...perhaps a small part of me questioned the authenticity, but then I received this, in the mail.

Dear Parents of The Prodigy:

Congratulations! your son has been selected by his teachers as 'His Middle Schools' "Student of the Month."

The Prodigy has been chosen because he exhibits the qualities and character that help to set 'his school' apart from all of the other middle schools. The high level of responsibility, cooperation and pride shown by The prodigy is something he learned first at home and models here at school for his peers.

'His School' is pleased to recognize our partners who sponsor the student of the month program: 'insert sponsors names here'. With community support and family support, students like your son thrive.

'His school's' faculty and staff wish to thank your family for helping to make 'His School' a great place to learn.

Sincerely,
His Principals name.

My response? Huh. Imagine that. He sure as shit doesn't take after me! Who are you and what have you done with my child?!

His reward? Lunch with the Principal. Is it just me, or does that not sound more like a punishment than a reward? Unless of course there are drinks. That changes everything.

December's To Do List

2006-12-05T09:00:00.000-05:00

December 5-15th: Pack our 1700 sq ft. apt, make sure my little neighbors exact same apartment is also packed.

December 14, 15: Move what we can on our own, being careful not to step on little old lady in the process, as I am certain she will be underfoot.

December 16th: Coreograph moving company to move both apartments into the new place, still trying to keep little old lady out from underfoot of movers, keep dog from losing it completely in the process.

December 17-22nd: Unpack contents of both apartments into new house, trying to appease little old lady as much as possible so that I dont have to compromise the set-up of new place too much. Try not to be too much of a bitch to the easy targets, namely husband and son.

December 22-24th: Set up Christmas tree and decorate house to imply some semblance of normalcy around the holiday season. Shop for Christmas gifts, plan Christmas dinner and finalize details of said holiday.

December 5-22nd: Locate elusive Christmas spirit and beat it into submission.

December 25th: Smile and attempt to enjoy the day for all the right reasons. Look around new home and at family and appreciate all my blessings. Spend many hours on phone with sisters and parents back in Canada.

December 26th: Avoid any shopping establishment like the plague.

December 27-31st. Orchestrate trip to J-ville to spend time with friends there for birthday and New years.

Jan 1: Self Destruct.

Do wish me luck, wont you? Also, be prepared to read sporadic posts, at best?

All I Want For Christmas...

2006-12-01T15:19:00.000-05:00

My lovely little sister, Miss Molly, asked me if I could have any one thing for Christmas, what would it be.

Without a moment of hesitation, the answer to that would be to fly the Family G home to Canada to spend the holidays with our family.

Barring that, I'll settle for The Hope Diamond.

Tattoos and Tunes

2006-11-30T13:29:00.000-05:00

Otherwise known as the post that my parents will have absolutely NO interest in.

Carrisa asked what the first five songs on my iPod were, in the shuffle rotation.

They are:

1. Best of My life
Rilo Kiley
Takeoffs & Landings

2. Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of this Song
Fall Out Boy
From Under The Cork Tree

3. Alcohol
Barenaked Ladies
Stunt

4. Soundeffects And Overdramatics
The Used
In Love and Death

5. The Good Times Are Killing Me
Modest Mouse
Good News for People Who Love Bad News

H asked about my tattoos, the quantity, time line and content. My mother will tell you I got them just to dig the knife in her side in a little deeper. Give it a twist and remind her of the pain and anxiety I caused them in my younger years. Oh hell, who am I kidding, she is probably right, on some level. After all, if it weren't so, I probably wouldn't have felt the need to hide them from my parents for nine (count them, nine) years. Who me, spineless? To you I say, Pshaw!

As seen in this photo I have several on my feet. (You love my feet Dare, they are beautiful and you know it.)

My first tattoo is the one with the moon and stars on my right foot, which I got back before the prodigy was so much as a glimpse. I got that one with my cousin Mike (RIP), when he got one; Woodstock, of the Peanuts variety, on his arm. My second was the vine on my left foot, which has purple flowers. I have NO idea why I allowed the dude to put purple in it, because I hate, loathe and detest the color purple so much that it induces rage. HATE. Yet I like the tattoo a lot. It is one of my favorites. My third tattoo is of a Celtic heart, it is on my tailbone. More on that shortly. My fourth tattoo was my ultimate favorite, but it didn't last. I went against the tattoo guru's advice and got it on the bottom of my foot, after being told that the skin there regenerates at such a rate that they could not guarantee permanence. It was of a short lived Maple leaf. I think I had it a total of about 3 months before it faded from view forever.

Let me see here. Fast forward a time until The Leester and I got matching tattoos (aww, how sweet) of an Ankh, with each of our zodiacs at the North, East and South points of the cross, signifying the eternal aspect of the family we chose to create. (For those not in the know, The Leester chose the prodigy and I as a package deal and he has raised the prodigy as his own for many years. I heart him, really a lot. Have I made that known? He has given us a life that would have forever been beyond my capabilities without him and is truly a wonderful man, father and husband. Color this girl thankful and lucky, even when I tease about him and pretend to poison him...(the bastard) Enough on that one now, that story gets its own post, in the form of the answer to Steens questions.)

The next of the inky goodness comes in the form of the happy face on my big toe. I got that the same day that I got the one that is also the completion of the tattoo on my back, which is a very intricate Celtic knot work that I designed. That one is cool and I love it alot, although I hate that in the years since I got it, it has become the trendiest place for tattoos and that the area is oh-so-fondly known as a 'tramp stamp'. Grrrr. My claim to fame with that one is it was done by Ozzy's tattoo guy.

Shall I go on? I jest, that is all of them, at this point. I guarantee to you that my Mom has read up till now and is pretty much having apoplectic fits. I love you Mommy! Hehehe. Kind of like a train-wreck. You know it is horrible but yet you cant look away. That pretty much sums up how much My mom loves my tattoos.

My Dad? Also having read this would say something to this effect:

"Do not mistakenly assume my silence is approval." He would have a very tight-lipped, straight face and possibly a certain vein in his forehead slightly bulging as he worked his jaw muscles. This is a look I knew all to well, growing up. Tis a good thing that the parental love is of the unconditional variety, because Lord knows I pushed the envelope.

Until tomorrow, my friends;
Peace.

Knowledge is Power!

2006-11-29T08:08:00.000-05:00

Or alternately, a lame title to this post because 'Answers to your Questions' is blah and even more lame. But first, you have to hear this. The Leester arrives home from work yesterday and this is a general rundown of our conversation:

Me: Hiya Hon! how was your day?
Him: My day was good, yours?
Me: No complaints.
Him: I did learn something today though...
Me: You did? And what was it that you learned?
Him: Well, did you know that women talk more than three times as much as men? And that for women, talking a lot releases endorphins that make them happy? So a woman's talking is like being addicted to heroin. You women are just addicted to talking.
Me: Dude. And you learned this where?
Him: Uhh...on my favorite talk radio show.
Me: Yeah, I had kind of guessed as much.
Him: Well, just don't be upset when I don't listen to your your incessant talking or answer your questions, alright? I can say in one word what it takes you at least three to say. Or in your case, three hundred and thirty three. *snicker*
Me: *eye roll* Go sit down, your dinner is almost ready, ass.
Him: *silence as he walks away*
me: mumble mumble mumble *puts strychnine in his dinner*

Men. I tell ya! Are they all like this? Anyways...to the questions!

AW asked: Uhm, how bout you tell us who your favourite blogger is? What is the most unique thing you've found in Florida and what are the biggest misconceptions about Canadians in Florida?

Why Cookie, YOU are, of course! Was there ever any doubt? :P Actually, in answer to this, I have decided to commit a forthcoming post to showing you guys some of my favorite readings. Stay tuned to whenever I decide to stop being a lazy ass and get busy posting all the links for you. Like tomorrow. There, I have committed. I swore I wouldn't do that again but I have. Happy now?!

Some unique things I have noticed about Florida..well, hmmn. I don't know if they are unique to FL or were just unusual compared to what I was used to, so I will answer in that vein, instead; alright? Alright, cool. I'm glad we could agree yet again to do things my way. It is exactly how I prefer it..

*ahem*

No Basements! Of course, it makes perfect sense, the water tables are too high but who in Canada doesn't have a basement?!

The Flora! I was initially amazed by how few palm trees I saw, in ratio to deciduous. It is definitely a misconception to think Florida is all coral colored and nothing but palm trees and sand. The foliage around here is breathtaking and makes me very happy. Everything is rich, lush, green and alive. (Dude! I could have totally been talking about men until I said green. Catch that?)

The smell. That one doesn't get an exclamation point, sorry. Initially when we got here I was amazed at how swampy something could smell, how heavy and humidity-laden the air was. I call it 'eau de alligator piss'. Now, it is something that goes without notice but is invariably the first thing my guests comment on.

The alligators! Dudes. The gators. you don't really realize how far down the food chain a human being can instantly become until you live here. Gators, sharks...you see my point. I was amazed at how seeing a gator for the first time in the wild (okay, so not the wild, the golf course!) made me feel very small. This thing is totally prehistoric! A direct link to the dinosaurs! And could eat me for dinner right. now. if it wanted to! Gaaah! So what did we do? Whipped out the camera for the photo opp. And when the gator didn't cooperate? The Leester tapped on the head with the ball retriever to get its attention. We come to find out later how fast/far those scaly buggers can move and I had nightmares for a week.

Edited to add: CASE IN POINT.

You remember my whole theory of natural selection post a week or so ago? Yeah, well it would have served us right. Thankfully that gator wasn't particularly hungry, is all I'm gonna say about that.

AW also asked about the biggest misconception Floridians have regarding Canadians. Well, after much thought I have decided that this is best summed up by saying that I have been surprised by how many Americans in general think that we Canadians are entirely foreign. As in, of the 'live in igloos where it is cold all the time, just discovered fire and the wheel, speak a different language, dress differently, look differently, eat different food than them' variety of foreign. It is met with amazement when I tell people that living in Canada is really very much like living in the United States. 'Homogenized, pasteurized, shop at the same stores for the same crap' sort of the same as the United States, for the most part. Yes, there are bridges in Canada! Yes, Canadians celebrate both Thanksgiving and Christmas! Yes, homosexual marriage is legal! ...*screech!!!!!* Okay, so not the same in ALL regards.

I jest, of course, but you would really be surprised at some of the questions I am asked. Truly.

And besides, there is always THIS plethora of knowledge backing me up.

I could go on and on, but wont. Suddenly I am overwhelmed with 'talking endorphins' and am finally sated. I'll be quiet now. See ya tomorrow.

Note to Self:

2006-11-29T00:37:00.000-05:00

Dear Self,

From this point on, please refrain from drinking coffee in the afternoon. While we both know it is yummy, it will only serve to keep you awake late into the night.

Dumbass.

That is all.

Love,
Yourself.

Some Answers..

2006-11-28T13:00:00.000-05:00

First of all, a major shout out to the friends inside the box, for taking the time to ask. My friends and family outside the box? NO SOUP FOR YOU!!!

Today, I'll answer the easier ones, because I am inherently lazy and the hour is getting late.

Beka-- While The Leester would love, love, LOVE for me to answer your question (If I had to choose one outfit to wear for the rest of my life, what would it be) with something akin to this:

yeah right. Bwahaha..the likelihood of that happening? NOT! Sorry babe! If I could only wear one thing forever and ever, it would be more along the lines of this:

Afterall, I'd have to be comfortable. I can just hear him gnashing his teeth now. He loves my whole 'Jammies' collection to death. Really.

*edited to add: Neither of these exist in my closet, just FYI. Much to The Leester's chagrin.*

Kim asked if I preferred creamy or crunchy peanut butter? Tropical or Deciduous Trees? Favorite Holiday Memory? Do you like Egg Nog?

Well Kim, I definitely prefer smooth peanut butter but will eat the crunchy without complaint. Just so long as there is peanut butter. Tropical trees come first, any day of the year. Tropical anything. One of the things I loved most initially upon moving to Florida was how lush and green everything is, with plants growing from the ground that we as Canadians struggle to keep alive indoors. It is still something that pleases me today. I really like the idea of egg nog more than the egg nog itself. If I drink egg nog I have to mix it with skim milk as it is way too thick on it's own for my taste. My ideal egg nog is generously spiked with spiced rum.

Just ask the Captain, he will tell you!

More answers tomorrow and I promise, I'll tackle some that require thought.

Again to the family and friends outside the box? You suck. Ask me some questions, dammit! Some of you haven't seen me for as long as six years! Surely there are things you might be curious about?? I love you too, ya bastages!

As an aside, this is for my LilSis, also know as BF, or Bitchface. You shall hereafter be known as Molly in Bloggyworld. If you care to know the reasoning behind it, try picking up the phone and calling me. If you can schedule it in between being a hockey Mom and all that, of course.

Interactive Blogging At It's Finest..

2006-11-27T13:42:00.000-05:00

Or alternately, the post in which I have NOTHING, so I plead for your help. Topic? What is a topic? I'm drawing a blank here people. So please, help a girl out? Ask me any (and as many) question(s) as you'd like and I will answer in the form of a blog post. Anything at all. Leave your questions anon, if you choose, or own them. I'll give you the straight poop.

I do ask, however, that you understand my need to keep the comments moderated so I can peruse the questions asked and decide if they are suitable for a very general audience. Thank you!

In the meantime, riddle me this.. This weekend I made The Leester watch Titanic with me. Also, I made him do this:

Does his man card get revoked today, or is he simply on probation?

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday weekend filled with boundless reasons to be thankful and that any travellers not only made it home safely but well rested. Psshhaw. We all know the likelihood of that last bit. rest? What is this rest of which you speak??

Happy Turkey Day!

2006-11-23T10:06:00.000-05:00

To my American friends. To my Canadian friends? Happy Thursday! I'll think of you. Sorry about the lack of an update yesterday, the Leester and the Prodigy are off for the rest of the week so I do not anticipate being around much.

Yesterday, we were out doing this:

At this place, here:

It was fun! It's always fun, if you ask me.

Can you blame me for being out there, even if it was rather cold? Hell, even the turkeys were trying to get one last game in before dinner!

Sadly for them, they ARE dinner.

Enjoy yours!

My Dog Has An Attitude Problem.

2006-11-20T11:55:00.000-05:00

It matches my own. We both like taking orders a lot...can you tell?

Yes, I put clothes on my dog. Wanna make something of it? :P

United 93

2006-11-19T21:29:00.000-05:00

The Leester and I watched this movie tonight, and here we are. The Wee couldn't join us, and that is okay. I understand. It scares him.

I know that by the time I post this it will be tomorrow, and that bugs me, but whaddya do. Except I don't know how to change the date...so, what do you do? On 09/11/01, The Leester and I were busy opening our first bank account in the United States, with the very same bank we deal with today. The lady we dealt with informed us that a small pane had flown into the World Trade Center, just minutes before. If only she knew. If only WE knew! The Leester and I looked at each other, wondering what the hell. We continued on with our business and then The Leester went to work and I went home. I met with my friend Mary at my apartment and continued on as normal, the kids at school and us two, doing our thing, which was usually diet coke and shooting the breeze. Curious, I turned the TV onto CNN and was mortified. To this Canadian girl, it was beyond my comprehension. The World Trade Center, gone? The Pentagon, compromised? United flight 93, crashed into a field somewhere in Pennsylvania?? Beyond my comprehension, truly. Canada is and always has been a peace loving country, as is the United States, but the difference is Canada has never really been a prime target. We just don't do this, honestly. It is beyond the realm of possibilities, to think an enemy would hijack planes and kill thousands, in the name of jihad. Call me naive, sure. Call me ignorant, I agree. Call me stupid, okay! But honestly, Canada hasn't really had the kinds of enemies the United States has, so although it may not be justified, it should be understandable. There we were, three thousand miles from all we knew and loved, wondering if we had made the biggest mistake of our lives. Fielding calls from our families, wondering how we were. Glued to the TV, as was the rest of the world, until it became just too much. I had to force myself to turn it off.

My friend Jeannie was to fly and see us, that very day. Needless to say, she never arrived. Her flight was delayed, for days. I tried to explain to my family and friends that we were okay and not to worry; although in those first few hours I wondered if there would come a time that I would dig through the rubble to find my child at his school. After all, we lived where the President was that day, visiting an elementary school. Until I could no longer stand it and just went ahead and brought him home for the day.

My eyes were opened. I have never felt more pain in my life, mourning for those lost. I still mourn them today, and every day.

I know there is a lot of controversy surrounding the making of these movies, people wondering if it is callous. Wondering where the profit goes. I personally think that if they help people to remember and be aware, then they are beneficial.

Another day in the life of....

2006-11-19T07:40:00.000-05:00

Yesterday morning on the way to our golf game, after I sneezed repeatedly. I'm sure it had nothing at all to do with how much cologne someone had on. No, really. My eyes watering and burning? Just one of those things.. Anyway:

Me: "You are supposed to bless me."

Him: "Bless you child, for you have sneezed..."

Me: *smack*

Him: "What, isn't that how it goes?"

Me: "No dork, you are just supposed to say "Bless you, or God Bless you."

Him: "Even sneezing is a sin now?!?"

Me: *eye roll*"I think originally that a sneeze was thought to expel evil spirits so people said 'God Bless you' in order to keep them from reentering your body."

Him: "I know some of my boogers are crusty little devil's, for sure."

The hubs is a nutjob, I tell ya.

Well, turns out I am wrong regarding the origin, apparently one traditional explanation for the custom is that it began literally as a blessing. Pope Gregory I the Great (AD 540-604) ascended to the Papacy just in time for the start of the bubonic plague in AD 590 (his successor succumbed to it). To combat the plague, Gregory ordered litanies, processions and unceasing prayer for God's blessing. When someone sneezed (seen as the initial onset of the plague), they were immediately blessed ("God bless you!") in the hope that they would not actually develop the disease.

Now, arent you glad you know?

Could it be anymore perfect???

2006-11-17T21:32:00.000-05:00

Could it be anymore me??? My friend Peggy designed the template for me, for which I am eternally grateful! I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it!!!

Bwaaaaah! I am like a kid at Christmas! I cant believe how happy a little green tree frog and a little orange golf ball can make a person!!

Wheeeeeee.....

I am so thrilled!! more on Peggy tomorrow!!

Peggy??? I pink puffy heart you!!!!

XOXOXOXOXO

eta: Peggy's other designs can be seen on her website, easily located by clicking the link under 'credits' in the right hand corner of this page. If anyone is in need of a custom template, talk to Peggy! Obviously she is talented, look at my froggy-golfball page!!

No Soup For You!!!!!

2006-11-17T14:06:00.000-05:00

Friday mornings see me taking my little neighbor lady to get her hair done and out for lunch. While she is doing her thing, I can be found at Starbucks (read:fourbucks), where I sit with my coffee (just regular old brewed, thankyouverymuch) and observe the world as it passes by. Some of what I see amazes and astounds me, and not in a good way. Really.

The phenomenon known as bluetooth? HATE. I detest it. That perfectly sane looking people consider it acceptable to have complete conversations with someone who is whispering in their ear while carrying on simultaneous conversations with the people they are accompanied by? Beyond the realm of what I consider basic decency and respect. I just cannot fathom it. Or people talking on them while using public facilities? Excuse me? Can whatever you need to say not wait until you finish up and flush? I cannot imagine. A public restroom, especially. Gawd! In that regard, I guess washing ones hands would be a stretch of the imagination.

The very well-dressed middle aged lady that I witnessed blowing a snot-rocket on the ground as she made her way into Costco? *RETCH* You eat with those very same hands you wiped your nose with?? Repulsive. Enough so that I made it known, out loud, as she walked by me. I believe I could be heard shrieking and cringing away from her for city blocks. I am certain that she could have found a Kleenex in Costco, had she restrained herself. Do these people not even have basic manners??

Call me a manner Nazi if you'd like, but I am a hard-ass. I blame it on my upbringing. No, actually, I THANK my upbringing. It went something like this:

Sit up straight. Shoulders back. Stomach in. Elbows off the table. Chew with your mouth closed. Set your fork down between bites. That is a salad fork, not an entree fork. Hold your fork like this, not like that. Use a gentle sawing motion with your knife, don't hack at it. And so on...

Kinda sounds like my parents were manner-Nazi's as well, doesn't it? Thank God! I can cheerfully sit through any meal with anyone, regardless of their station in life and know that I will not show my ass. (At least not because of how I eat, anyway. There is no telling what may or may not come out of my mouth, however, much to the chagrin of my parents; who can be heard muttering that they raised me to be a lady and not a sailor on any given day) I know which utensil is used for what, what a proper table setting is and how to present myself. It is called civilized, people! It does NOT entail chewing something and deciding midway that I do not like it and spitting the offending matter out onto my plate. Nor does it mean sitting up to a table as though I am half participating, legs off to the side of my chair, or spinning my fork around in my hand like it is a baton.

Ask the men in my life. I am constantly parroting what I heard growing up and I tell you with pride that my son also knows how to eat properly. He will address you as Sir or Ma'am out of respect, if you ask him a question. He will open the door for a lady and/or hold it open if someone approaches him as he reaches the entrance somewhere. He will walk on the outside of a sidewalk and offer a girl the inside, out of respect, when he is old enough to date. Even now, he will open the car door for me and shut it behind me after I have seated myself. In my opinion, this is how things should be and I am proud of him for it.

I think the world is becoming less civilized because we are abandoning the very basics in our rushed lives. I believe something very important is being lost in the process.

Now aren't you glad I shared that with you??

Say it with me, people. BIT-CHAY.

I just cant help it. Some things really irritate me.

Seeing Red

2006-11-16T09:54:00.000-05:00

But oh, so not angry.

The Theory of Natural Selection.

2006-11-15T08:38:00.000-05:00

Ripped from the headlines. *Que Law & Order theme music*

The Orlando Sentinel

You know, call me cold and callous, but I have a VERY hard time feeling anything but anger for situations like this, when found floating in the general location of the boat are two child-sized life vests, zippers closed; indicating they were not in use. When the parents report seeing the missing eight year old struggling to get into one of them as the fishing boat was sinking. I understand and sympathize with how heartbroken these parents must be. Truly, I do. I cannot even begin to imagine the level of pain I would feel, or even if it is something I could ever get beyond; were I to lose my child. I am amazed that the father managed to swim as far as he did, his three month old child held above his head. I do not doubt for a minute their love for their children or their intent, but it leaves me scratching my head when it is made known that those very parents took three small children out on a boat without lifejackets.

What the hell? Does that not scream preventable to you? Or very likely so? Certainly, it would have greatly increased their chances of survival. I would imagine they will spend the rest of their lives wondering the very same thing. Tragedy, in it's most true form.

I have little patience for the most basic stupidities. People that refuse to implement safety devices as a means of protecting the lives of themselves and those in their care unable to make such a decision on their own, for whatever reason? Well, they piss me off. It doesn't get much simpler than self preservation, in my opinion.

It is heartbreaking. Sure, you have some that argue that it infringes on their rights. That in many cases it would have ended their life instead of save it. SHUT UP!! They are LAWS for a reason. GAWD!

Which brings me to today's astute observations.

I am a Christian. I am certainly not the best Christian, by any means, but I believe in creation. I believe in God, as the Creator. I believe in intelligent design, absolutely, because I believe in God's intelligence. One can argue for days, weeks, months and even years about theology and I welcome you to have your own beliefs. One cannot, however, argue with Darwin's theory of natural selection.. because let me tell you, it is absolutely evident. And if you disagree? Let me help you along.

The guy you inevitably read about who is holding up traffic for many hours on the Golden Gate bridge, threatening to jump? Dude. Here, lemme help you along.

*shove*

Dont waste my time. If you are going to do it, do it. To me, natural selection at it's finest. Survival of the fittest and all that.

Politickle

2006-11-13T16:47:00.000-05:00

A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is politics?"

Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I am the head of the family, so call me The President. Your mother is the administrator of the money, so we call her the Government. We are here to take care of your needs, so we call you the People. The nanny, we consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, we call him the Future! Now think about that and see if it makes sense. So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what his dad has said.

Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parents room and finds his mother asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he go to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny.

He gives up and goes back to bed.

The next morning the little boys says to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now." The father says, "good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about." The little boy replies, "The President is screwing the Working Class while the Government is sound asleep. The People are being ignored while the Future is in deep shit."

Ba-Dun-Dun..

*Yes, I misspelled the title on purpose. Duh.*

Red Neck Disney

2006-11-12T07:32:00.000-05:00

Well, Disney has finally done it. They have made the first official redneck animated movie. For those of you that haven't seen it, I am referring to the movie 'Cars' and believe me, it just doesn't get more red necked than that! Picture, if you will, a NASCAR themed cartoon that brings you guest appearances from the likes of Dale Jr., Richard Petty and Darryl Waltrip; to name just a few.

The premise is that the selfish car, 'Lightning McQueen', must make it cross-country to the 'Piston Cup' race after a mishap and in the quest to do so, learns all about friendship. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Cute? Perhaps, but much like every other film Disney has done. Pixar does great work, of course, so I always enjoy watching them for that reason alone. The attention to detail is astounding. It is also an occasion where I can manage to get the prodigy to sit with his parents for almost two hours and hang out with us. An occurrence growing more rare by the day.

Anyone who has lived anywhere near the South understands that NASCAR fans around here are a breed of their own. I am not sure if it is a geographical thing or not, perhaps it is Countrywide, but certainly around here, they are somewhat...passionate about things. You can tell them coming by the number stickers attached to their vehicles, and oft by the rebel flags tucked into the window or incorporated somehow via bumper sticker, t-shirt or license plate frame. Sometimes the gun-rack in the rear window of their half-ton truck is the key noticeable feature and dead giveaway.

Watching the movie 'Cars' was hilarious. They made it so well, with so many things true to life that it had me laughing. The motor homes, in the center of the track, depicted as wearing beer-hats? Funny stuff! The one pictured as though floating in a blow-up swimming pool, cold beer in hand and cooler close by? A scream! You hear people call in to our local talk radio station after the big race weekends talking about exactly that. Imagine it. A funky-assed pool, no chemicals or circulation, a bunch of drunk strangers coming by and asking if they can take a dip, all weekend long! And don't picture a small pool here, picture your typical above ground semi-permanent one. The bigger, the better. A status symbol, if you will. Doesn't it make you want to bring yours? To rush out and attend a drunken event? Yeah, I thought not.

Although I have never been to a NASCAR race and well, don't intend to go, The Leester and The Wee went to the Daytona 500. Tickets obtained by me when the grocery store I frequent gave them to me. They claim it was an experience. A loud one, but very cool to see just the same. I think I stayed home and got a pedicure or something.

Blame me?

*disclaimer: When I use the term redneck, it is not used as a slight. Anyone that is familiar with the breed understands it is a label worn with pride. And honestly? They are a breed, all their own.

Jive Talkin....

2006-11-09T09:23:00.000-05:00

Well, after all the interest in the contents of the Drawer of Doom, it saddens me to report that I was referring to nothing more than the knife drawer in my kitchen. The one that The Leester makes me sign a disclaimer for before opening, if he lets me use it at all, because I am so accident prone. Okay, well not quite that bad, but I am rather clumsy. I do wish it was more interesting than that though!

Katya, you are crazy, if you actually enjoy having your legs waxed! The thing is though, here in FL, where shops are a dime a dozen? It's all of twenty bucks to have it done. Crazy, right? When referring to the experience as religious it was more along the lines of:

*wax on, cloth strip on, riiiiiiip*

OH SWEET BABY JESUS WHAT WAS I THINKING!!!!

*wax on, cloth strip on, riiiiiiip*

DEAR GOD GIVE ME STRENGTH!!!!!!!

*wax on, cloth strip on, riiiiiiip*

OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY!!!!!!!!!

*wax on, cloth strip on, riiiiiiip*

JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH!!!!!!

*wax on, cloth strip on, riiiiiiip*

OH GOD, NO MORE, NO MORE, NO MORE!!!!!!

*wax on, cloth strip on, riiiiiiip*

PLEASE GOD NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

So you see, not so much my thing. It HURT. A LOT. Kind of like how having the hair at your temples pulled hurts. Or hitting your knee-cap on the edge of a table hurts. Or the ever-loving funny bone smash hurts. the end result, however, is awesome. So much so, that in the name of vanity, I will do it again. And again. And even again. Because what could be better than a little self torture if it means not having to shave the legs??

p.s. Kimba, you are to be thanked for todays title. I woke up this morning and it was finally gone, but after reading your comment it is back. I hereby pass the Bee-Gee's and their Jive Talkin back to you for the day.

Who's on First?

2006-11-08T09:17:00.000-05:00

Sick of seeing my pretty flowers yet? Yes? This will be the last time I'll show them to you, okay? Deal? Actually, I put them up today as a point of reference, and also because I am really amazed at how well they are holding up. Just today they are starting to show signs of wilting. Pretty impressive, isn't it? They have outlasted my funk, which is cool (might even be cause to celebrate, cause that is a feat in itself). I don't know if it has been the moon phase, the month, the impending holidays, or what; but I am totally over myself. Gawd! I have been walking around with a dark cloud for a while now but it appears to be lifting. I kind of sensed it last night, when while trying to go to sleep I had the song 'Jive Talkin' going through my mind. It's kind of hard to be bitchy...yanno? Until that song turns me homicidal, then watch out. But it could be worse, it could be 'It's a small world'.

At any rate, I digress! When The Leester bought me the roses, I made mention about what The Wee said regarding all of it, that they were a thank-you gift; for having my legs waxed. Which? Implies ugly, hairy legs in need of some serious attention. Like European women's Olympic softball team hairy. And that, my friends, is some seriously scary shit and may even cost me my readership! Wouldn't you say it's time I defend myself??

You see, here is the thing. I am not an overly girly-girl. I never really have been and odds are, I never will be. I do not wear much make-up. Rarely, in fact, and even less so than I might, given the fact that my husband and son hate it. They don't have any problems with how it looks, but The Leester? The dude cannot handle the smell of face powder. Or any make-up, for that matter. You see, he has this thing. This thing where twice in his life, he has been the last person the dying have spoken to. One of those people was his Grandmother, who spoke to him (and only him) from her death-bed. His Grandmother must have smelled like face powder or something, because now? The face powder smells like death to The Leester. And that? That really isn't the vibe I am into sending The Hubs, most days. As I am sure you can understand, right? Consequently, no make-up for this chick. Which really, works in my favor. I don't have to deal with it! My skin is pretty decent without it, thank God and good genes, and that is that. Done. Not only that, but my husband has this mysterious power to kill women in make-up!

Can ya blame me for refraining??

So anyways! I am neither a real girly-girl in the make-up, high heels sense, nor am I a hairy chick. (Thank God!) While that much is true, its not like I just don't bother shaving my legs or whatever, which brings me back to my point. Rather circuitous and difficult route to follow that it has been thus far; I know! Stay with me! While I am neither overly girly or overly hairy (shew), I certainly do have my vanities. My hair (the hair on my head!), for example. You don't want to mess with the hair, because someone might die. Most are not even allowed to touch my hair. It's just a thing, okay? A thing as a result of everybody wanting to do exactly that. Pet my hair as I walk by. (What is it about long, naturally curly hair of the reddish variety that people just feel like they have to touch it? Or grab a handful and sniff it?? Ugh!) Also, my skin. My skin must be soft and silky, without blemish. Such as the kind of blemish that I self inflict, every. damn. time. I. shave. my. legs! (Perhaps I am not so coordinated either and should not be trusted with sharp objects, alright? Such as the disposable razor. Ask me about the drawer of doom sometime. Oy!) Soooo anyways, I decided to tough it out for a couple weeks and have my legs waxed. Which is where The Wee's statement came from. It just so happens that the day The Leester gave me the roses was the day I had the gams waxed.

Which? Religious. Stay tuned tomorrow, I'll tell you about it.

Perhaps I'll also let you know if I made the cut for the European Women's Olympic Softball team.

Steeee-Rike!

Perspective

2006-11-07T09:50:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I am overwhelmed if I spend too much time thinking about all that is wrong in the world. All of the pain and suffering, all of the weary and downtrodden, all of the starvation, loneliness, abused and mistreated. It hurts me, to be aware that I cannot make enough changes to make a difference. That I am unable to solve the small problems, let alone the world's problems. That people hurt, all the time.

And then my Dad sends me something like this, reducing me to tears first thing in the morning (thanks Dad...I have a rep to protect you know!) and I realize that sometimes it is about focusing on the smaller picture. Seeing where the changes need to begin.

*Music By Sick Puppies*

See how easy it can be? What will you do, today, to make a difference?

If you are eligible, get out there and vote. Please? Do your part to make the difference that way. Those of us that don't have that right wait anxiously to be able to do so. Your vote IS the way to make a difference where it counts.

Stay tuned for tomorrow, where I will return to being my snarky-assed self. Promise.