Thursday, August 24, 2006
I cannot BELIEVE you cut your own hair!
I REALLY did not need to deal with this today!
What were you thinking?
You know that scissors are not a TOY!!
Let me guess, you were just trying to get it EVEN, right?
It looks terrible.
I hope you're happy with yourself!
NOW, PUT DOWN THE DAMN SCISSORS AND BACK AWAY!!!!
The previous conversation occured with myself and the bathroom mirror.
Good thing I have a hair appointment next week.
Last night, Michelle and I hosted a Kitten Shower for our friend, Karen and her new cat, Gigi.
Karen is a lovely person who deserves every single good thing. That would include her dream of owning a cat. It finally came true. Karen deserves to have the moment recognized by people who love her.
Plus, any excuse for Chelle and I to throw one of our famous gatherings is always welcome. We had so much fun planning, shopping and executing this party. We have gotten to spend more time together lately and that is ALWAYS a good thing. I adore her.
Karen got to open lots of gifts on behalf of her kitty. My favorite find was the catnip frog. Karen collects them and I have enjoyed adding to it over the years.
Gigi got a great mix of things she needed and fun things to keep her amused while Karen is at work. Hopefully, this means that she won't have the need to tear the blinds down from Karen's windows anymore!
Brian and Sherry Joy also gave her the soundtrack to "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy". Awesome movie, awesome soundtrack. Hey, it works..."So long, and thanks for all the fish."
Gigi was kind enough to send Thank You gifts of canned tuna.
Chelle did a greatjob creating it. There were tons of photos of cats and one picture of Gigi.
We all got little Karen faces with tape on the back. Whoever pinned a picture of Karen closest to Gigi one. BRILLIANT game, and way fun.(I am also trying to see how many times I can use the word, "Brilliant" in this post.)
Brian completely missed the cabinent and ended up sticking KAREN ON MY CHEST.For some reason, my boobs were a center of attraction during the Crazy Cat Lady game.
Everyone kept running into them. Bridgy was actually triumphant when she smacked into them while Chelle was turning her around. She wants me.
We had a lovely evening.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Wilbur is my cat.
Wilbur is a girl.
Yes, I knew this when I named her.
Wilbur is also a very, very naughty kitty.
(TRANSLATION: She is a complete whore who has a million boyfriends. Walking in on freaky animal love is pretty grody.)
I ran to PetSmart to buy a gift for a friends new kitty and I decided Wilbur needs a collar.
It cried out for its own personal little touch:
Move over, Hester Prynne.
I was sitting at my computer in the wee hours of the morning and saw a Blogger Invitation in my inbox.
I've been invited to be a guest blogger???
ON ALEX'S BLOG??????
Be still my heart! WOO HOO!
This is so exciting.
I've already posted. ***Not for the faint of heart. I made Penguin throw up.
Thanks for the opportunity, Alex. Have fun moving to Toronto...Be safe, eat Maple Syrup, "Blame Canada" n' all that stuff. Oh, and "Always get your man."
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
I will not bitch about my absolutely SHITTY CAR. I will say nothing about the fact that there is now, something else wrong with it. I suppose that it is not just pets resembling their owners but obviously my van and I are two peas in a freaking pod.
I am not going to bitch.
I WILL bitch about the fact that the person who was driving in front of me going TEN MILES AN HOUR .
For one, it killed the charge in my newly jumped battery.
Secondly, it completely ruined the experience of listening and singing along to the "Superman Theme" by John Williams. Yes, I listen to the theme from Superman. While driving. In my minivan.
I also sing along.
Well, since there are no actually lyrics to sing it ends up more like, "La-la la la-la, DUM DUM DUM, La-la la la-la SUPERMAN! La, la la la-la, I'm Lois Lane...Superman loves me...la, la, la... cause I'm a hot journalist...dum, dum, do..."
What the hell was I saying???
Oh, my lame car.
While sitting in the 3,000-degree heat waiting for rescue, I wrote a blog entry in my head. I suppose this is a good thing because I wasn't sure I would have time today.
A post that I read on Jose's blog about repelling sparked a little bit of a memory.
I love Jose's blog. For one, he just has about the damn cutest profile picture known to mankind. He also writes about interesting things and says cute things about his wife, Martha. They also have a baby with the worlds fattest, most munchable cheeks ever seen.
Those who know me also know I am completely fascinated by all things Law and Order, military and uniformed. I always have been.
I also LUV guns. Not killing things, just...GUNS. They are way fun to shoot. Plus, I look cute doing it, so I fail to see any drawback.
Given my fascination, you would think that I would have gone into some field relating to one of the above. I admit that I considered it for about 30 seconds, but then reality of what that would actually mean kicked in:
"Excuse me? Mr. Criminal? HI! I'm Loralee, your arresting officer! I'm here to make sure you have a fantabulous incarceration experience! Could you scoot over here and put your hands on the hood of my car?? Yah, she is a cutie, huh?! I named her "MUFFY". She is a super sweet little car, thanks! Are those cuffs comfy? GREAT! Oh, and can you pinkie swear that you don't have any contraband on you???? SUPERLICIOUS! Ok, watch your head getting in, we don't want any nasty boo-boos! Have an awesome day!!!
I wish that this were a mere exaggeration.
Since that was out, maybe I could be a cop wife? An army wife?
I suppose it is for the best. Given my feelings about a man in uniform, my husband would never leave the house for me pestering him sexually. I would also dress up in his uniform and play with his toys way too much. I suppose it is for the best. SIGH.
You don't know just how close I came, though. In 2001, Jonathan really wanted to join the Army reserves. He always has. I was completely supportive. I still am. If he were to walk down and sign up right now, he knows he he would have my absolute, unwavering support. You aren't talking to someone who has no idea what it would entail. I do. It was just weeks away from Sept. 11th. That changed our plans, but only because we employed ten people. If Jon were to suddenly be called up, they would be out of work.
It was a tough decision to make. One we are still not sure of.
Jon had all the paperwork done, all of his testing complete. He missed ONE question. THAT was because he was going too fast for the computer and goofed on the last one.
To say the Army was drooling over him would be an understatement.
When we were in the recruitment office, we were discussing which post Jonathan wanted. With his test scores, he could be absolutely anything he wanted. What he wanted was to be a combat engineer. Scared me to death, but again...Supportive.
As we talked the recruiter looked at me and asked me a bunch of questions.
"You know? You could enlist and immediately outrank Jonathan by a long shot because of your huge number of college credits".
WHAT!? COOL! WOO HOO!!!
Then it sank in. Uh...I really, um...Shouldn't outrank anyone on the planet in the military...ESPECIALLY Jon.
"So. Are you interested?"
I bet all of you reading at home didn't know that I have had my very own adventure with the United States Army, huh?
Oh, yes siree.
My freshman year of college at Weber State I was walking around the orientation with my friend, Spencer. Spencer was dating my best girlfriend, Susie. They are actually married now. They are the two on the left. Spencer is just like a huge bear and he is very comfortable in the outdoors. He was an Army brat and is just inclined to do all things hunting, shooting, and running around the outdoors in cammo.
"LORALEE! Let's sign up for this class! Three credits in three days for Mountaineering! Come on! It will be FUN!"
Sure, why the hell not? I could go hiking in the mountains for a few days.
We signed up.
Three weeks later I am at home and the phone rings.
"Is this Loralee Mitchell?"
"This is SGT. Joe with the Army ROTC calling to give you information about our practice repel from the stadium next week."
Yah. Apparently, there would be no easy nature trail, meandering through the trees and eating Samores by the fire.
I was going into a three-day hell. WITH THE ARMY.
I was going REPELLING with THE ARMY.
FOR THREE DAYS.
I am scared of heights. The only time I had ever been repelling before this, my hair got caught in the ropes and they had to hack half of it off to get me out. Not a good sign.
A week later I found my butt in a harness trying to repel off of Wildcat stadium without dying.
I didn't die, but it was close.
The week after that I was sitting on an old bus headed out to the desert of Calleo, Utah with my friend, Spencer (Who was SO in the dog house). We quickly realized that neither of us got the required packing list.
If you didn't notice, I am sort of an "Indoor Girl". My family does not "Camp". In fact, I had the only outdoor gear our family owned with me, which was exactly ONE 20-year-old orange sleeping bag with a broken zipper. It was stuffed into a garbage bag because I had no idea how to roll a sleeping bag up.
That was it.
No warm night clothes. No coat. No extra blankets. No bug spray, sunscreen or practical clothing. I left my tennis shoes on the porch so I was in PENNY LOAFERS.
Oh, and WE DIDN'T BUY FOOD.
Between us, we had one box of NutraGrain Strawberry bars, a sixpack of redcream soda and a bag of Funyons for three days.
It was really that bad.
There were only 5 civilians in the group and I was the only girl. So, I was in a tent with the only other 4 girls. They were really sweet. They knew I had no freaking idea what to do and helped me a lot.
We hit the ground running at 5 am and didn't stop until well after dark. I don't think I have ever been so subjected to such physical hell. I weighed WELL into the 200 pound level and was not exactly in shape.
Have you ever tried doing a chimney climb in penny loafers? Well, I have. Try doing a 1,000 ft forward repel in them, too. It's a treat.
My commanding officer and I really didn't see eye to eye. He was understandably appalled at me and my complete, "DUH". I thought he was an ass, so we were even. When we were doing the 600-ft boulder repel, I couldn't get a secure footing on the rocks and kept slipping. I would swing into the side of the cliff and bang against it pretty hard. The 7th or 8th attempt, I caught a rock with my forehead. They hauled me up. As I sat there BLEEDING FROM THE HEAD, he just let me have it:
"Dammit, Mitchell! I have never sent a soldier home from these exercises on medical and I am sure as hell not going to have the first one be a civilian. GET UP AND DO IT AGAIN."
Now. I am not really an aggressive person. Maybe it was my hunger, cold, exhaustion, or the fact that during the last repel my brand new Mickey mouse baseball t-shirt got caught in the ropes AND HAD TO BE CUT FROM MY BODY, but I wasn't in a good mood.
"NO! I am NOT doing it again."
"Mitchell! Give me twenty!"
"NO! I DON'T HAVE TO! I AM A CIVILIAN. FAIL ME!"
Luckily, he cooled off and so did I. I did the damn repel.
I did have one moment of success. I the only person in my group to make it across the canyon on the rope bridge without falling off and having to start over. God directly intervened because there is NO way that one person should have been me. I was terrified and I knew that there was no way I would get back up if I fell. It was good, no, it was fucking AWESOME. The CO even gave me a surprised nod of approval. COOL.
This is the only picture of the trip. Me and my tent mates. Before my awesome Mickey baseball t-shirt bit it in the repelling ropes. :(
The nights were so damn cold. I had such bad asthma, I knew after the first night the cold was really going to be a problem. By the second night I was really sick, exhausted, freezing and starving. By the third night I was just undone.
It helped that we would be leaving in the morning. We just had the awards ceremony that night to get through.
Then there was an announcement. THEY HAD DINNER FOR US! Hot dogs and beans. Dude. I was so grateful I bawled. It was one of the best meals I have ever eaten. I think Spencer and I consumed half of their supply by ourselves. When the commanding officer caught on to what we had both been going through, he was really pissed.
"Mitchell, why the hell didn't you say something earlier?"
I don't know. I was just used to solving my problems by myself. It didn't even occur to me to ask for help. It was my own fault, I should just suck it up. It's nice to know he would have been willing to help if I had asked him.
When they gave out certificates of completion, the CO just stood there shaking his head.
"I can't believe she did it, but she did. Mitchell, get your ass up here."
I got a standing ovation.
Blew the one at the Kennedy Center away.
One of the proudest moments of my life.
As Spencer and I said goodnight, he noticed how much I was shaking from the cold (NO coat, remember?) The thought of sleeping in the freezing air again was just too much. I went into my tent, freezing and just laid there and cried. Then I heard my name whispered and Spencer crawled under the tent flap and crawled under my sleeping bag with me.
"There is no way I am letting you freeze to death again, you looked really sick at dinner. Susie would kick my ass if you froze again."
My tent mates didn't care and I was so grateful, I couldn't even say anything. I just said a quick prayer of thanks, curled up next to him and had about the deepest, warmest, most freaking wonderful rest known to man.
I came home battered and bruised with a healthy appreciation for people in the service. They do stuff like that all the time, and THEY THINK IT IS FUN. So, I also gained a sure knowledge that there is NO WAY I would ever, EVER DO THAT AGAIN.
God bless America.
Monday, August 21, 2006
I am tired.
Why am I tired, you ask?
Well, being up and about at the butt-crack of dawn might have something to do with it. Since I am pretty much a vampire that shrieks as the sun touches her nocturnal, lily-white skin, I am not really what you would call, "Morning Friendly". Definitely anti butt-crack of dawn am I.
Given all of that, WHY then, was I awake at a time more suitable for the chickens and my friends, Michelle and Zac?????
BECAUSE MY CHILDREN ARE FINALLY BACK IN SCHOOL!!!!
Happy, happy, joy, joy!
ALL of us were more than ready for this to occur. Well, I should say we were EMOTIONALLY ready for this to occur. As for being physically ready? I waited too long to prepare. So, we got everything yesterday. Next year I am going by myself. ALONE. WITHOUT JON. NOT TO WAL-MART.
"Please, Jon. Wal-Mart is a bad idea. Trust me on this. It is too late and they won't have anything left."
"It will be fine. They'll have lots of stuff."
One of my favorite aspects of the charter school is that we have a dress code. It is so easy to follow: NO jeans,..NO logos/brand names...Shorts to the knee...Collared, buttoned shirts in specific colors...Close-toed shoes. EASY PEASY.
"Jon, I know that Christopher is a big boy, but he is NOT a size 8! He only turned 7 last month!"
"No, I looked at him, they'll fit."
NOT. The butt on those pants wrapped around his knees. Luckily, I planned on using their summer khaki shorts for the first few weeks anyway.
The other SNAFU we hit was with the list for James. "Please purchase five matching notebooks and folders in the following colors: Red, black, blue, green, and yellow."
NO FREAKING YELLOW!
So, we tried to find a different color. Orange??? Well, there was an orange folder but no orange notebook. Purple??? A purple folder but no corresponding folder!
By this point I was an over-wraught puddle on the floor. When Jon looked at me and said, "We can always try Staples.", I was a cross between hitting him in the head with a package of postIt notes and crying on the linoleum.
"NO. We are not going to Staples. We are buying a Sharpie."
PROBLEM SOLVED!!!Finally, the kiddies were ready, supplies in backpacks, lunches made, clothes laid out.
Every year on the first day of school we take our children out to eat breakfast. It is a tradition that we all love. We talk about the good things they did last year, how they can improve on it and lay down the rules for the upcoming year (This year's die-hard? Homework is done RIGHT AFTER SCHOOL. My kids just cannot refocus after a play break. We tried it and it sucked, so there it is.).
There are always entertaining moments with my children. This one involved the possession of the only green crayon. Christopher wanted it to color grass, but James wanted it to make "Psychic Eyes" on the trunk of his elephant.
"Mom, I think you passed your weirdness on to brother."
Jonthan giving a confirming eyebrow arch did nothing to dispel that theory.
Arrival and Thomas Edison was a busy affair. I was struck by how well everything runs now and how full our school is. It is our fifth year of operations. James first day of first grade was in a reception hall with blankets dividing the class room because the building wasn't finished. I was terrified that I has just put my child into the equivalent of a militia cult in Idaho. Deep down, though, I knew it would be a good thing for my children. I was right. It also ended up meaning the world to me. I had no idea I would be a PTA president, the impact I would make, the things I would be able to do and the people I would grow to love in that little school.
Things were busy at TECS, as usual. We were a bit more rushed for time at the end than I would have liked. It was really tough getting a picture of me and the boys. The mural has become THE place for pictures and Jonathan only had time to snap ONE of us, it was so crowded and busy.
I look really solemn and annoyed. Kinda "American Gothic-esque". Gives me an idea...hmmm...
I really shouldn't try and play with Photoshop.
My pitch fork looks more satanic than farmer, so it just escalates.
I think I need help...
Saturday, August 19, 2006
I know I've been pretty silent in my comments section.
Just a lot going on.
I'll be better about it.
Reading these comments have made me so happy.
You all certainly know how to make a girl laugh.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Thursday, August 17, 2006
I have SO been putting off this post. Actually, I was never going to write this post AT ALL, but then Karen decided to give me a gift of such creativity, such cunning, such "Oh, my HELL I am laughing so hard that I think all the ear wax in my ear canal just melted", that I am now FORCED to write about the thing I swore never, never EVER to speak about here.
Pay attention boys and girls, because this is the one, the only, the LAST time you will ever hear this subject matter on the pages of Looney Tunes.
There! I freaking SAID IT.
I hate this subject more than any other. I hate bathroom humor. Let me repeat that for those who may have missed it:
I HATE BATHROOM HUMOR.
Or bathroom discussions, or even the WORD, "Poop" or "Pooping" or any of it's derivatives when clearly referring to a bodily function. The most I can get myself to utter is "Excrement" and "Defecating". MAYBE.
I like to take the side of the anally conservative and pretend that humans really don't have bowel movements. Yes, bowel movements are just a vast, left-wing conspiracy. Damn Hippies.
So, why would my friend Karen be giving me any kind of gift relating to this foul human necessity, you ask?
Well, this has taken me a very long time to tell even my close friends and a few family. I suppose that I had to come clean about some of it because of the misconceptions that I have cancer. Thanks for all the emails and stuff, but it's not a tumor. I just have a bunch of health stuff going on that has been plauging me for awhile.
There are quite a few issues of this-affects-that, and so on. Think of my body like my van-Everything goes to hell all at once.
Um...Er...One of this issues is that I have a bowel obstruction high up in my upper intestine. It is very, very, VERY stubborn and is causing me a lot of grief and problems. I am doing everything I can, my body is just being it's bitchy self. I'm sure if I up my credit limit and buy it some new shoes, it will stop pouting and cooperate.
DO NOT WORRY ABOUT ME. I have been in and out of the hospital, seen every doctor I need to and I am sure that all the issues I have will be just fine in the end, I just need more time. I have decent doctors and my friends have been very....Um...supportive...N' stuff...
After getting Karen's gift, I decided it was so over the top and of such magnitude, I will just say, "FUCK IT. I am going to embrace the poo. (Or lack, thereof.).
Must be some freaking amazing gift, right?
JUST LAUGH,I DO!
You'll have to excuse me now. I laughed so hard that I think I perforated my colon. I need to go find a BandAid.
What? We're out?
Eh. That's ok. I just got a box of Maxi pads at Wal-Mart.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Why, why, WHY THE FREAK WHY, does my period have to start at the end of such a lame day?
It isn't even my scheduled time.
What to do? I suppose I could just sit here and bitch, but then, I've bitched quite a lot lately. I don't really want to waste "Bitch Points" on something that will occur so many more times in the future.
I suppose I could choose to turn this into a positive experience and try to impart som uplifting words of wisdom to you all.
Hmmm....Let me think...
When I was in Kindergarten or the 1st grade (Don't remember, sorry), I dawdled before school. My mom went to work and my brother and sister walked on to school without me. They didn't want to wait for me to change out of my roller skates.
As I clampered clumsily up the stairs, I tripped and hit my head on the corner of the concrete step.
Head wounds tend to bleed a lot.
I went in search of medical supplies. "Medical Supplies" to a 7-year-old means a BandAid, of course.
As a child, I was notorious for sticking BandAids on the walls, counters, uninjured legs, the pets, and my siblings. I just liked it. I was ALSO notorious for taking those really cool, white, fluffy BandAids out of my mom and older sister's drawers, peeling off the back paper and sticking them all over the walls of the bathroom.
For some reason, they were always very unhappy when it was discovered.
I would ask my mom what the big deal was with THOSE BandAids. She always replied that she would, "Tell me when I was older".
SO...when I went up to try and get BandAids for my Boo Boo, I was dismayed to find that I had used the last one the week before to try and make two slinky's link together.
What to do?
AH, HA! The white, fluffy, BandAids! Perfect! I wasn't even very late to school.
As an adult, I look back with amazement at the composure my teacher showed when she was confronted with a rumpled, bloody little girl with a Maxi-Pad stuck on her forehead.
How's THAT for uplifting?
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
How does a perfectly okay morning go to hell in a hand basket so quickly?
I slept fairly ok, I got up, did the mommy breakfast routine, cleaned and bleached my entire kitchen and did loads of laundry.
My friend Michelle came by and we had our kids play in the park while we went walking. It felt good to have great conversation and give my body some much needed exercise.
I went home, did more "Stuff" (Errands, shopping, appointments) and then everything SUCKED.
The air conditioning isn't working and it is humid and miserable in my house. My children are being the spawn of hell and I am the Devil. I am overwhelmed with the things I have left to do before school starts next week and pray that I will be able to do what I need to. I am so terribly ready for my kids to go back to school and feel guilty for it. This summer has been really hard. Because I have been sick, and because they aren't in school, we are together 24-7. It is driving me CRAZY. Nothing stays clean for more than 10 minutes, and I just walked out to find "James and Richard" written all over my newly-poured concrete and curbing.
I also just want other situations in my life to be the freak OVER and there is only so much I can do to make that happen. I'm sick to death of dealing with it
As I made lunch for my kids (salad, ham and cheese sandwiches and chips with lemonade), I kept thinking the same thing, over and over:
"This is what I do."
"THIS is what I do."
"This is WHAT I do."
"This IS what I do."
"This is what I DO."
Yah, you do that enough to yourself, you could probably go from fairly normal and happy to talking to the Care Bears that have come into your kitchen to bitch about the Smurf's making too much noise out on the trampoline.
I am cranky, frustrated, hot, sweaty, dirty and unshowered, AND I still have on yesterday's eye make-up.
I confess I am not handling the stress properly. It may have exacerbated my mood that I spent the last hour hopelessly blubbering and sobbing while watching different YOUTUBE clips and eating a horrific amount of Frito's (Which I SHOULD NOT BE DOING).
I couldn't help it...I doomed myself by watching Whiskey Lullaby (Although, Ricky Schroder in a military uniform? YUM freaking YUM, YUM). THAT got me sniveling. It just went down hill from there. I knew I was in trouble when I started watching Disney clips (Beauty and the Beast. SNIFF) and then, the KILLER. The clenching, I HAVE SNOT RUNNING FREELY video....THE MUPPETS. Really! I mean, who the FREAK could watch this and NOT BLUBBER?
Kermit, I need a hug.
Monday, August 14, 2006
While I was trying not to go into heart failure from the $250.00 grocery bill we were paying (It happens when you put off shopping cause you feel crappy and need to buy EVERYTHING), a little bit of hilarity came my way via the Wal-Mart speaker system.
"American Woman...stay away from me-ee..."
I shit you not.
Jonathan and I heard it at the same time.
My eyebrow arched coyly, betraying my intentions.
"Honey, while I really, REALLY loved today, please don't start stripping. We're in the produce asile and some of the vegetables look too delicate to take it."
because she's cool and this e-card made me pee a little. It's also a nice change for those who are uncomfortable with me posting about my sex life.
I promise that I don't usually create e-cards and send them to myself. I recreated the AWESOME one I recieved in my inbox earlier today and edited it to protect the identity of the sender.
She is wonderful and this card killed me because it is PERFECT for me.
I was all set to write a post about popping into the county fair last week, wearing braids and resembling, "Fern" from "Charlotte's Web", and how I was quite possibly the only woman there with all my teeth, when my shuffled MP3 list started playing a song that made all that seem trivial.
American Woman, by Lenny Kravatz.
Did anyone ever watch, Aly McBeal? Where the scrawny, but hilarious lawyer, 'The Biscut' used Barry White as his inner, "Go to" music?
This is mine.
I dare you to put this on loudly and just TELL me you have no desire to strut, grind, paw, pant and move in thigh-high leather boots. Don't worry, Alex, I can let you borrow mine if you don't have any.
First of all, Lenny is very munchable. Yum. But, that isn't even it...The opening guitar just makes me feel dirty, awesome and highly fuckable.
While Heather Grahm is a beautiful woman, I should be the one in this video, I'd blow her out of the water.
Don't believe me?
Yes, I realize that I spend about 85% of the time looking like a harmless, lovable, cornball. Awkward, klutzy and weird, but the remaining 15%? Pure, unabashed, vixen, let-me-ride-you-like-the-stallion-you-are dirty, dirty girl.
This song makes me forget about stretchmarks and muscle tone of head cheese. It just doesn't matter. I am the hottest girl in the world while this is playing and trust me, confidence makes up for a LOT. Even when I feel terrible, this song makes my heart pound, my hips move and make me RAWR.
My husband, while fond of the effects, is not into this song as much as I am. He just came in to the living room and told me that "Even Go-To-Songs shouldn't be played on repeat 60,000 times".
We'll see if he's still bitching about the song when I'm through with him.
I hope his boss doesn't mind him being VERY late to work today.
Sorry, Linny and Nooncy. One should never have to read about their sister pumping and grinding to pulsing guitars and Lenny's grunting or what she is about to do to thier brother-in-law.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
"Christopher, there is a big brown spot on your shirt."
"Oh, I know, Momma. I found another snake and it was just having its period".
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Ya, know...I think I really like vanilla.
Friday, August 11, 2006
There is nothing more important in this world than brothers.
It is the one area of motherhood that I feel I have done an astounding job teaching my children. No relationship that they will have will be more important than the ones they share with their brothers.
They take it seriously. They are each other's best friend. When they make the other one unhappy or hurt, they feel it deep inside and are bereft until it is made right.
Today, James broke a racquet that Christopher received for his birthday and they said some angry, hurtful words to each other and got in a fight.
Both of them were miserable.
As James was the offending party, I snuggled in bed with him until he was not so upset.
"You know what I am going to say, don't you?"
"Yes, Mom. There is nothing more important than brothers and I need to make it right with Christopher."
James had little tears pouring down his face as he worked on his apology to his brother. I'll never forget his grubby little fingers clutching at his pencil or the look of sincere concentration on his face. Nothing was as important to him as mending his best friend's heart.
He took it into Christophers room and soon I heard laughter and playing. James has a way of making Christopher laugh even when he is sad. Christopher has a kind little heart and wants to forgive, so usually these things blow over quickly and they go on as before. best friends, kindred spirits.
I have many brothers that are important to me. My biological brothers mean the world to me. So much so that I named my two children after them (Rhett and Bradley). I have always looked up to them both. I wish that Rhett had been my father. I think I may have turned out differently.
I have brothers that have no relation to me at all. They come in all ages, religions, colors and sexes. (I have a very Politically Correct Band of Brothers going on).
These are people that I feel a deep spiritual bond with. People who understand me at the core of who I am. Friends I will love all my days.
These brothers are people I would do anything for. I would like to say that I would be brave enough in a moment of decision to take a bullet for any of them. In my heart, I would be brave enough, but let's face it, I am a freakishly weak person, so maybe it's the thought that counts.
These brothers have my back.
I have theirs.
When I let a brother down, there is nothing that tortures me more. I feel it deep inside and am bereft until it is made right.
There is nothing I would not do to see them happy, well, and blessed. They endure endless amounts to help me, shield me and protect me. Do you know how lucky and how fortunate that makes me? VERY.
I want my children to have this same bond with their loved ones as they age. These are people you share your deepest joys, your fiercest battles with. This life is a war, full of pain, attack, indecision and fatality. You need to choose your battle buddies wisely, know that they would fight for you as hard as you do for them.
My boys will not always be in my care. I hope and pray that should they be far away and if they need support in time of pain, loss or need, that they will have a true brother there to help them find their way, to look in their eyes with understanding and kindness, to hug them and say, "I'm here. I will help you find your way".
I pray that they find these brothers as they go forward in life.
I have found mine.
Further proof that people from Bemidji are both cool and completely weird (Which makes them just about perfect, in my humble little opinion).
I don't think I could ever top this, DAVIE.
Totally cool. The gun is pretty darn sweet, too.
Damn, I look good. Maybe I'll buy the bikini after all.
GRINS FROM LORALEE.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Did you all know that this is what I look like in a bikini?
What's that, you say? No? You didn't? That is hilarious, because neither did I!
I had no idea I would look this hot in a bikini, but I DO! All thanks to www.myvirtualmodel.com and Charli (Who I am blatantly stealing this from) .
I immediatly went and logged on.
This model and these jeans will change your life.
WOW! Really? Awesome. I am all for change! Sign me up, baby!
Welcome to your virtual model creation page. Please fill in the following options to create the model that looks like you:
Sure! This will be fun!
Weight-154 (Yes. There it is. Deal with it.)
Boob size-34 DD
So far, everything is looking good. There are even options for skin tone, making the lips nose and eyes varying sizes and if you are a pear, apple or hourglass body shape.
Um. What if neither of those body shapes is really me? What if I am just, "Hi, I have no waist what-so-ever because I have the world's largest ribcage?"
Sorry, no option for that.
Uh...They don't give an option for thick ankles and what to do for them?
Sorry, you're just screwed and will have to make the best of your Nellie the Elephant legs like Hillary Clinton tries to.
Uh...What if I have the, um, muscle tone of head cheese? Can I pick that option so that I get more of idea exactly how baggy my thighs will look and how far my post-pregnancy flab will hang over those pert, circular pieces of hardware holding the bottoms together?
Sorry, you're fucked. Although, www.myvirtualmodel.com now calls "Dibs" on the creative license for the term "Muscle tone of headcheese". You must now immediately desist from using that phrase unless you first send a royalty check to our administrative headquarters.
Uh...Are most people happy with this service? Do the clothes really fit like this? Shouldn't I maybe, uh, go to the mall and actually try one on?
You don't need to try them on...You are happy with the way it looks...Very happy...Stare at the model...You look like the model...You look like this...You don't need to actually try on the bikini...You look like this...Watch the typing... It feels so good to use www.myvirtualmodel.com..so happy...So calm...So peaceful...Watch the model...See how calm and happy she is...You like the model...You are the model...You like buying from us...You feel good using our virtual services...You are now complete...Whole...You are Borg...Resistance is futile...
Wow. I feel amazing! You're right! How could I have ever doubted you?! I'm so glad this option was there to change my life.
It's totally working.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
I am going to check my email inbox to see if there is a little bit of cheer there and then fall into bed, so it's a quick post tonight.
I had to make a trip today and the drive was hell. It made it more endurable that I got to sing along with Thing Two's CD's on the trip, but over all? It sucked. I am not sure if it was because I was running really late, felt awful, or was called a MILF by a very vocal and embarassing gas station guy, but it was not a great day.
I got to see my friend, Little Amy (You can see how little because I tower over her in this picture and I'm squatting).
I had things to do in Salt Lake, so she drove down from her parent's house in Park City to meet me at a Mexican Restaurant. I was so damn happy to see her. She was my first roommate in college, a very dear friend and the first person I confided in about the worst thing I have ever done (Until that point). She is tiny, fiesty, and the person you call when you just want someone to be pissed off on your behalf, no matter what outrage against you you are sharing. I absolutely love her. When she moved to Paris last year I used to say, "In a old house in Paris that was covered with vines lived twelve little girls in two straight lines. Amy is way cuter than Madeline".
She also had her little ones, Clio and Gigi. Clio just turned four and Gigi is two and has been a member of the family for a whole year after being adopted from China. I can't believe how big she is now.
Amy has had an international adoption, and two international moves in ONE YEAR (She's relocating from Paris to San Fransico). I don't know how she does it.
When I arrived, Amy whispered to Clio, "Tell Loralee what you told me."
Clio (Who has the most amazingly gorgeous brown eyes like her mom) looked up and said,
"Loralee is amazing! Will you marry me?"
I told her I would be honored to marry such a beautiful little girl.
We ate Mahi Mahi fish tacos and then went to Barnes and Noble where I was so tired I curled up in the children's section in a corner on the floor and went to sleep.
The rest of the day sucked, but the details aren't important. Michelle called me at an opportune time to let me cry my way out of traffic to try and get home and I had to stop in Ogden in the parking lot of a tattoo parlor to take a nap so that I didn't drive off the road.
I'm home and going to bed.
Love you all. Miss you, Amy. Word to Logan friends, she'll be up on the 21st and wants to do lunch. Cool.
Despite the best intentions and the world's best Anti-Spam-Sister, LINNY (Heh. Don't tell her that spells A.S.S.) spammers are just getting way too out of control.
I love my archives too much to let them be eaten alive by the damn things.
Word verification is going back on to the log in, at least for awhile.
Sorry, Alex! I tried, I really did.
On a completely random note, I am hoping that none of my little Minnesota friends are massage therapists that are cavorting with their clients. You may be running afoul of an obscure law. It made me chuckle.
Monday, August 07, 2006
It might be helpful for you to note that if you bring your new-found garden snake "Pets", aka "Snaky" and "Bity", into the house against orders and if you also accidently let said reptiles loose in your mother's bedroom without telling her and it SLITHERS UP HER LEG while she is trying to get some much needed rest, she WILL freak, scream, fling it across the room and jump up and down on it's ass.
In otherwords, your snake is going to BITE IT.
It also would be wise to note that any other contraband animals WILL meet the same fate.
Friday, August 04, 2006
I am so completely overwhelmed, touched and happy I feel like I could burst.
I got a package in the mail today.
A GIFT. Not a computer case for my husband, papers involving purchase of our land or our drug shipment from Columbia.
A REAL, HONEST-TO-GOODNESS-CARE-PACKAGE!To appreciate just how much that means to me, you would have to understand just how I feel about gifts and their significance.
It doesn't matter the amount of money spent. One of my most prized gifts was a set of dog tags made on Valentines day. There was also a typewriter piece, but I won't get into that. Expensive is awesome. My husband designed a gold necklace with gems set just how I like for each of our three boys it is so precious to me. It doesn't have to cost money, though... It can be as simple as good friends bringing a Diet Coke to show their love, a plaque with my sons name done in caligraphy by a friend, a small bag of BBQ chips, a pair of sparkley sandals that matched a pair the giver bought because of you. They are all dear and loved.
Packages received in the mail can either make you sing with joy (My "I'm blogging this" T-Shirt sent from France) or break your heart (I don't need to say anymore about this). When I lose or break or misplace gifts, I am devastated.
I love gifts because for me, it is all about the CARE and the LOVE that goes into getting off your ass to pick out some little something that reminds you of that person. I am always intrigued to see what people think of to buy me. My friend Michelle is very good at gift giving because she loves to do the unusual, just like me. She bought me a rockin purse. I had no idea I needed or wanted a purse, but I LOVED that thing. It was perfect, right down to the pink and chocolate polka dot liner. She also bought me bras for my new set of "Girls" for last year's birthday and was a co-conspirator in filling Karen's fridge with beverages.
We get along.
I have been known to avalanche people with gifts. Not all the time, and I will go through phases, but it is a way that I show love, affection, worry, concern, guilt, and sorrow.
I try to put thought into whatever gift I give to people, whether it be an imported soda, a quirky lunchbox or a tub of Muhumurra and pita bread along with a bag of trout I caught. In my younger years I was out of control. I was so grateful to have any friends at all that I used to leave them gifts in their lockers, on cars, on their porch and look for any gift-giving occasion under the sun. "Happy Arbor Day!!!" I think I bought my friends a mall once.
This little quality of mine also has it's down sides. I have been accused of trying to buy love, butter people up, show other's weakness and failures with gifts. When you tie your affection and feelings so closely into physical tokens, that can hurt like a mother, let me tell you.
It is rare that I meet anyone who is quite like me in this area.
Ok...I never actually have.
Actually? Today, I have been outdone.
It must be something with the name, Loralee.
Loralee Christiansen in California (Thing Two as she is affectionately known here) and I have had so many good conversations. She has been so kind and thoughtful, wise and understanding of me and my weird little ways.
We have so many similarities it is bizarre. I just love her.
She knows that I have really been struggling right now. Many do, and I cannot express the KINDNESS, the care, the concern and just plain, "I have restored faith in humanity" that I have gotten from people. The calls, the letters, emails have been so amazing to me.
Then, I get THIS in the mail. Books, a fabulous card, a great letter (We like so many of the same tunes, Thing Two), Bath products, makeup, loads of CD'S, perfume...it just kept going and going.
I shook and cried and GRINNED, at every object and word. I was like a little kid at Christmas!
Her letter is also a carbon copy of ME! See, LLC, no one understands the beauty of an 8-page letter like ME! When a friend was deployed to duty, I think I must have worn the post office out with packages, cards, letters, brownies, DVD's...you get the picture. He finally told me to stop, for the love of god. (It can be a bit overwhelming to bask in my affection, I'm afraid.)
My favorite item and line from the letter?
"I have enclosed two tubes of Crest Whitening Expressions toothpaste. First off, Two is just completely strange enough to send you toothpaste. Has anyone else ever sent you toothpaste? HMMMMM? I thought not!"
Could you die?
For her to send me such and amazing gift is just beyond me. BEYOND.
For once in my life, I am freaking speechless as to how I feel (DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD THAT IS TO DO, THING TWO??!)
I bless the day that she googled her name at 4 am and found me.
More than that, I am glad there is such a kind human on the earth.
I am glad that there is someone else out there that understands such a quirky, unusual part of me.
You rock, Thing Two