I have been watching old movies lately and I noticed that everyone in the old movies portray life as happy go lucky and everyone is sparkly and happy. All the time. Even if the character is bone tired, they're still peppy. To that I say "NOT!"

Down here in Texas it's HOT. I mean, instant sweat, drooping hair, saggy britches, melt-yo-flip flops hot. And it's not even July yet. That kind of heat will get to you. You start out uncomfortable then you get sweaty then you get irritable then things just seem to go to hell in a handbasket. It's hard to be super friendly and peppy and optomistic when it's so dang hot. That's why I tuned into Turner Classic Movies so I could watch people be unnaturally sparkly and happy. I'm hoping some of it will wear off on me.

My job is satisfying for the most part but it seems like I've been hurrying up so I can wait on other people to do what they need to do before I can do what I need to do. That puts me behind when I finally get to do what I need to do except I'm not allowed extra time. I'm supposed to do what I need to do in the bare minimum amount of time possible. It drives me insane because I want to do a good job and I don't feel like I can when I'm blasting through a project at a hundred miles an hour. I'm scared I'll make a major mistake along the way but since I've been forced to rush like a maniac, I'll never notice. Then I'll look like a moron. My demeanor might be pleasant on the outside but my inner throughts are cursing like a sailor and I secretly want to punch in the faces of a few key people.

I'm going to think about balloons and polka dots today because who can stay upset when there's balloons and polka dots around? Not me! And I'll also think about polar bears and bobsleds because both of those are cool. And since it's hot, I want to try and stay cool.

So there you have it folks, balloons, polka dots, polar bears and bobsleds. I think those are nice thoughts for the day don't you? (Hey, it's better than griping)

Please...let me sleep

During my first marriage, I trained myself to be very quiet and still. My husband was a very light sleeper and had trouble getting enough rest so the bedroom had to be very dark and very quiet and I had to be very still, lest I disturb him and wake him up. I was sensitive to his plight but it was still really hard to be so still and quiet.

Having suffered from severe arthritis since my teens, I am well aware of how hard it can be to get a good nights rest. I'm also aware that it's nearly impossible for me to stay in one position for longer than 5 minutes. I have to admit, I got pretty good at tossing and turning in slow motion and very smoothly.  I was able to turn over without even pulling the covers out of position. I was also able to navigate our home in complete darkness without making an audible footfall. I was like a cat!

There were more times than I can count where I was scolded for moving around too much, or for making a peep between the hours of 10 pm and 6 am. Are you getting the idea? I lived like I was walking on eggshells for over 15 years and I must admit - it got old. When my husband and I divorced, one thing I did in my new home was to have nightlights. Lots of them. In every room. I didn't have blackout curtains - I had sheers and the outside light was allowed to stream in my room.  I was still pretty quiet but I tossed and turned, got up in the middle of the night and walked around with the lights on and did all kinds of things that were previously outlawed.

When I married Manchild I guess I figured I had to be as careful about being quiet and still, even though he never said a word about it. Imagine my shock when he got up during the night and flipped on lights and made absolutely NO attempt to be quiet. He carried on as if there wasn't another person trying to sleep in the house. The dude was loud! I almost got annoyed at his lack of consideration for my sleep.  I finally broke down and asked him to be a little more considerate and to quit turning on the spotlights while I was getting my beauty rest. He tries but he's still loud.

I used to think that I was a very quiet sleeper but recently my kidlet told me that I snored. Snore? ME???? No way! Manchild told me that I talk in my sleep a lot. Another surprise. I don't know if that's something new for me or if I've done it all along. I do know that I've been existing on about 5 hours of sleep for the last 4-5 years. I wish I could sleep longer but I guess it isn't in the cards for me. This coming weekend I'm going to have a sleep study to see what I do during the times I'm asleep. I wonder if I'm one of those kind of people who get in the car and drive to the gambling hall and gamble all night while I'm asleep. It's too bad I don't get up and clean the house or something productive.

I'll be sure to take pictures because I'm going to have wires attached to my noggin for 3 days and I'm sure it will become a fashion statement. I might have to make a sci-fy movie since I'll look so goofy. I need some plot ideas. And maybe a tin foil cap.

I'm not a dang assembler!

Manchild bought me an edger! Yea! My lawn has spilled over the sidewalk for 4 years. I've tried cutting the wayward grass with my weed eater but it kicks up so much debris, I hate to do it. My man brought his fancy gas powered weed eater to the house one weekend and tried trimming for me, but things were so overgrown, all of the trimming string got chewed up. So he got mad and threw the trimmer on the ground - but that's another story.

The new edger has been sitting in the box for 4 long days because Manchild told me not to assemble it - that he'd take care of it but I've got to tell ya, I just couldn't wait any longer! I pulled everything out of the box and started assembling it myself. Of course I did NOT read the directions. Directions are for namby pambys. I put everything together and gave that pretty new edger a try. The dang thing nearly jumped out of my hands and took off on it's own! I admit, the grass was thick but I sure didn't think I'd have to fight it to stay in line! I decided to glance at the directions to make sure I wasn't missing anything important and guess what? I missed something. I made the correct adjustments and began attempt #2.  Man oh man, that little edger cut a nice clean line. The only problem was that it was about 3" from the concrete. I had successfully trenched a small portion of my yard.

I eventually sort of  (not really) got the hang of things but I was pretty sure that I still needed to make some adjustments because my edging still wasn't looking too pretty. It looked like a blind, drunk person was running the affair. I decided to stop and wait for Mr. Man to get home and take a look. When he got home the first thing he did was comment on how I had assembled the edger without him. I felt pretty smug in the fact that I didn't need a dang ol' man to assemble it for me. Really smug; until he told me that it looked like I had put the handle on it upside down. In retrospect, there was no rhyme or reason as to why I'd put the handle on the underside of the edger. I'd have to stand on my head to edge in order to use the handle the way I had put it on. All I could do is laugh and admit that maybe I should have waited for him. Maybe then, the edger wouldn't have to be reassembled. And maybe I wouldn't have a 3 foot long trench in my yard (that still needed edging).  Hey, at least I practiced along the rear driveway! I was smart enough to know not to practice in the front yard where everyone could see me screw up!

Maybe by this weekend, my man will have had time to put the edger together the correct way. And maybe he'll decide to take pity on me and just go ahead and edge the whole yard. If I do it, I might just end up with trenches in the yard. And then I can install a sprinkler system all by myself! Um, no.

I'll admit, I have one

When I was growing up I always had a blanket or pillow case that had satin on it. I used to rub the satin until I fell asleep - it was like my security/comfort thing. As I got older that need for satin never went away. I still make sure that the blankets I buy have satin edging so I can rub it as I fall asleep. I can't seem to relax unless I have something to fiddle with.

I heard a story on the radio as I drove in to work about a guy who had met his dream girl but he was concerned because she was 27 and still had a blankie. Really? That might be his deal breaker? Come on! I'm 48 and I have not one but two feelies that I always have within reach when I go to bed. I don't think that Mr. Man cares. He even helps me find them when I can't locate them. I literally have a hard time relaxing and falling asleep if I don't have them. I bring one of them with me when I travel! Does that make me weird?

I also have a habit of fiddling with little squares of paper when I drive. I have a little pile of them in my console and as soon as I hit the road, I pick one up and start playing with it. I don't know why I do it - I just do. Mr. Man has gotten used to this little quirk as well. He chuckles when he sees me searching for my all important square of paper.

I'd be interested to hear if any of you have odd little things that comfort you that you may or may not be embarrassed to share. I bet you do. Come on, tell me.

The pooter tube

I've told stories before about how Manchild and kidlet #2 are intellectual equals and the silly things they do but I think that this one takes the cake.

I heard my two lovelies belly laughing over and over so curiosity got the better of me and I (stupidly) decided to go find out what they were up to. I went to the patio where they were and saw the two of them sitting there holding a clear plastic tube, just laughing their heads off. I should have known that they were up to something gross but like a fool I asked them what they were doing.

They were so proud of themselves because they had come up with a new invention...the fart tube. Yep, those two morons were placing one end of the tube near the business end of their hineys and the other end of the tube up to their ear, and they were letting loose with the bellow of the barking spider.

I don't know why I wasn't surprised at that. Maybe it was because the two of them share a love for all things methane. The only thing that bothered me was that they were using the tube that I use for a water supply for my fish pond! If I used that tube again, I might have a pond full of dead koi! They didn't care about that. They were so engrossed in sharing gross sounds with one another - nothing else mattered. I left the two of them and went back inside the house to try and scrub the image of what they were doing out of my mind with bleach. Morons

On a side note: I was going to try and illustrate what the two of them were doing but I just couldn't make it work so I borrowed the above images from Google, then adapted them to show you what they did. Here are my two lame attempts at drawing the scenario. By the way, the first image is of an ear. The second is of a person sitting with a tube near their hiney. Just in case it was as unreadable to you as it was to me.

I don't think I'll quit my day job to be an illustrator.

Guest Blogger - Kidlet #2

And now for something different...

A cartoon by my kidlet #2 for your viewing pleasure.

I only wish I could be so clever!

Mommy, can we go clubbing?

photo courtesy of melaniehamlett.files.wordpress.com via Google images

I've mentioned before that Mr. Man and I love to go out and hear live music. Blues to be exact. We turned kidlet #2 onto the blues and have taken her to many places to learn the finer points of true blues playing since she's got a guitar and wants to be a star when she gets good enough (if she'll ever practice!). We've taken her to outdoor concerts, restaurants with attached bars and outright bars. She's always super chill and takes it all in. She doesn't really care much about what's going on around her (thank gosh) - she's glued to the musicians. I must admit, I think it's pretty cool that we can go into a venue and many of the musicians know who she is and always stop by to say hello.

It's getting to the point where a weekend doesn't go by where my kidlet doesn't beg me to take her out to hear music. She's usually online scouring clubs and restaurants to find the place to be by Wednesday and she hounds me relentlessly until Friday rolls around. Usually I can make it in the back door after work and put my keys down before she starts in on me to take her out. She's becoming a barfly.

The weekends when we can't find a good band or place to go she pouts and acts like it's the end of the world. While other preteen girls are cruising the mall or going to movies or mooning over preteen boys my kid is looking for clubs we can get her into. She has a crush on a 27 year old man, not a 13 year old boy for Pete's sake!

Recently I took my blues hound out to jam and the joint was jumping. The music was great and people were dancing. It was so great that I just had to get up and dance. A female friend of mine was dancing with a few other girls in a cluster like girls often do so it wasn't any big deal for me to join them. I tried to get my girlie to dance with us and she promptly refused but when some of the other girls prompted her she actually got up! She DANCED with us! I was surprised and really happy that she did. At first she was stiff as a board but before long she loosened up a little. We made such a fuss over her, I think she was proud of herself for stepping out of her comfort zone. I don't know of too many 12 year old girls who can boast that they went to a popular club and danced. But my girl did.

I'm sure that it won't last - her wanting to hang with the 'rents so I'm taking it while I can get it. It's funny but some nights, she gets to stay out later than her 18 year old sister since she's with me. I'm sure some parents will disapprove of me taking her to places aimed more for adults but I'm doing it for the inspiration. I want her to want to pick up her guitar and practice and get good enough to play at some of the places we've visited. I'd be such a proud Mama. Even more proud than I was of her getting up and busting a move with the ladies. And let me tell ya, she might not be a pro yet but for a 12 year old, my girl can bust a move!

Horseflies!!!

Whenever I go down to the little house in the woods, I marvel at all of the birds and insects buzzing around my car. There are zillions of butterflies and moths and horseflies. For you city slickers who don't know what a horsefly is - it's a fly on mega steroids. A mega fly. A super duper humongous fly and I hate them. They bite and buzz loudly and are generally pains in the keester. They seem to have some way of knowing when my car windows are open because they always seem to enter at their own will to enjoy the refreshing A/C.

Kidlet #2 hates bugs of any kind. Gnats send her into fits of terror so you can imagine what horseflies do. She happened to be with me in the car when a horsefly snuck in and it was pure pandemonium. She was riding shotgun in the front and Manchild was being chauffeured in the back and the fly went to the back (meh heh heh). Kidlet didn't care that the horsefly was 4 feet away from her - she screamed and shook and begged me to stop the car so she could bail out.

Manchild, being the punk that he is simply laughed at her and made annoying buzzing sounds. It took about 5 minutes of riding with all of the windows open, kidlet screaming, Manchild buzzing and me trying not to wreck the car as the horsefly dive bombed me to get the dang thing gone. It was an annoying 5 minutes - let me tell ya.

At one point during our weekend we had 2 horseflies in the car at once. Things were much much worse. Kidlet was screaming, Manchild was buzzing and flapping a towel around in a vain attempt at knocking them down and I was cussing a blue streak for everyone (including the fly) to shut the heck-fire up. Kid Rock was rapping a blue streak the whole time and I didn't have the wherewithall to turn the radio down because there was so much happening at once. I can honestly say that I understand now how a one car accident can happen.

Kidlet asked me after everything calmed down why the flies were called horseflies. I told her because they tend to hang around horses and cows and that I thought that sometimes they got their jollies terrorizing humans, too. I might just have to get a tazer and zap those suckers the next time they get in the car. I can see it now...picture a serene evening with a country road and a lone car slowly rolling along. Now picture and imagine hearing blood curdling screams, loud buzzing sounds and seeing the car light up from the inside with an intense white/blue light of a tazer and the the car slowly rolls off into a ditch because the driver tazered herself while trying to get revenge on a horsefly.

Manchild and I picked up Kidlet # 2 from school one day. Of course, being the idiotic, imbecilic (is that a real word – it is if you’re US) brats that we are we decided to have a little fun.

Manchild decided to put on his really big cop cowboy hat and his dark cop sunglasses (because it looked so super cool while we were sitting in his teeny tiny car), so that's the first thing that made kidlet cringe. Then we decided to tune the radio to an exciting radio station. You see, the radio in Mr. Man's car only has one volume setting...LOUD. Extremely loud. So naturally, we were obligated to pick the most obnoxious music we could find to play on his extremely loud radio, which we did while all 4 windows were rolled down. Are you getting the picture?

There we sat, in a goofy little car with the windows rolled down - music (complete with lots of accordions, trumpets, yelling and rapidly spoken foreign languages) blaring, Manchild decked out in his cowboy hat and cop sunglasses - staring without any emotion at all on his face, at any kid who walked past and me sitting in the drivers seat cackling like a loon.

To get the complete picture you have to know that we were picking kidlet up from a middle school where all of the kids are awkward and hate being seen with their parents. So it was just as funny to stare at the kids walking past who were trying to look like they weren't looking at us, as it was to see how quickly kidlet could make it to the car without anyone noticing. Since the radio was so loud, we had to yell to be heard so everyone in the carpool lane heard us greet our kid (another offense).

Let me tell you, my offspring was absolutely mortified. She tried ducking down into the back seat but most of the damage had already been done. So she did the best thing she could think of...she dug her fingernails into our arms and screamed for us to turn off the radio. I finally did so because I do have a teeny shred of compassion and I do remember back to the stone ages when my mom would hot rod the dinosaur in the dinosauras lane when I was in school. I remember being embarrassed! But I have to admit...I get why Mama made old Steggysaury kick up extra dirt and peel out when she took off. Because it's funny to watch your kid try to become invisible and try to kill you without getting grounded.

For some reason, kidlet never wants Manchild and I both to pick her up from school. She begs us not to do it. I guess it's because when we pick her up together, we're usually in his dorky little car and not my super cool hot rod and the dorky car embarrasses her. So next time, we'll take my car. And we'll stand up through the sun roof with the music playing loudly and wave our arms and scream out her name so she'll be able to locate us easily. I might even wear a special outfit so I'll be more visible. I mean, I want to make it easy on the girl.

Aunt Laura and I borrow a Camaro

Once upon a time my ex brother in law bought a cool car and he was generous enough to let all of his favorite people drive it. His sons could drive it pretty much whenever they wanted. But he also had some family friends who had kids and he let them drive the car also. One weekend the hubs and I were visiting and people were taking turns driving the car and at one point in the evening Aunt Laura and I decided to make a run into a nearby town so we asked if we could take the cool car out for a spin, too. We got permission, fluffed our hair, let the top down and off we went.

Things were going great, the wind was blowing, we looked really cool, the music was good and we were having a great time. We were pretty close to our destination when the car started sputtering. “Oh great” we thought. That kind of stuff always seemed to happen to us when we were together. Before we had a chance to really start worrying the car stopped running altogether. It turns out that the gas tank was empty. All of the teenagers enjoyed driving it but they failed to put gas in the thing and Aunt Laura and I never thought to look at the gas gauge.

So there we were, sitting on the side of the highway, at NIGHT, with a cool car that had no gas. What were we to do? Did we leave the car and risk having something happen to it? Did one of us hike to a gas station and the other stay with the car and both of us risk being killed by a deranged highway killer? We already knew that we were going to be dead once we finally got the car home and had to admit that we let it run out of gas – possibly damaging the fuel pump. Shit fire and save matches! We were in a pickle!

We finally made the decision to walk to the gas station together. That way, if the highway killer tried to pick us up, we could put some kung-fu terrified helpless freak out moves on him and potentially kill him. We started our trek (in high heels) and I have to admit, we were scared. It’s not comfortable walking beside a highway when cars are zooming past and on the other side of you, there are woods full of killer animals and a potential highway killer hiding. You tend to get a bit wigged out. After a few minutes a car slowed to a stop and Aunt Laura and I looked at each other like ‘this is it.’ A nice couple offered us a lift and we had a tough choice to make. Did we accept the lift and possibly get kidnapped even though it went against everything our parents ever taught us? All kids are always taught to never ever accept rides from strangers and yet there we were, considering doing just that. The couple looked to be in their mid 50s, they had a cross hanging from the rear view mirror, and another on the bumper and gospel was playing softly on the radio. They were very nicely dressed and didn’t look like killers so we made the decision to accept the ride.

I’m sure we jabbered the entire ride to the gas station because we were relieved/nervous and the people were just as nice as could be. They didn’t try to kidnap us or kill us or use us for a sacrificial offering for the Church of Satanical Body Parts Worshipers of Greater Arkansas. They simply gave us a ride, blessed us and drove away.

We got a relative to bring a gas can so we could put some gas in the car and once we filled the thing full, we abandoned whatever it was we had driven to town for in the first place and drove straight back home. We were very scared to return the car to it’s owner because we figured he’d be pretty mad at us since we had been gone for so long. And because we let it run out of gas. Sure enough, he was mad. Very mad. But eventually he got over it (I think). I must admit, I never drove that car again. I never drove any car of his again. I never drove anything he had again. I never used anything he owned again. I think it was about a year after that, the hubs and I divorced. And while he and I remain on speaking terms and are actually friends now, the owner of the car I drove and ran out of gas in, refuses to speak to me. I don’t think running out of gas in his car is the reason he doesn’t speak to me, but I’m sure it didn’t help things.

As for Aunt Laura and I go, we don't get to have as many adventures as we used to but we're still friends (thank GAWD).  Luckily we haven't been on any excursions where we've run out of gas in a borrowed car. Although, we did take a train ride which resulted in her getting stuck in a train car that had doors that wouldn't open. We're like the disaster sisters. The cloud of disaster hovers around just waiting for us to appear together so calamity can rain down. But I don't mind too much because it always makes for a good story and funny memories.

Friends, family...whatever! They're mine!

The graduation watching crew!

Ah, family…you love them, you get really annoyed at them and you’d fight to the death for them. I have a super wonderful family. I have wonderful step-family members, wonderful ex (in-law) family members, and wonderful in-law family members. I’ve got it made in the shade when it comes to family members.

When my ex and I split I was worried that his family that I had been a part of for 21 years would all disappear. But all of them (except for a sister in law, her husband and their 2 offspring) kept me. I’m so thankful for that because they’re all great people and they’ve put up with me for many years. Heck, they watched me grow up so to speak! To this day, I still value them greatly and look forward to the times we can see one another. They didn’t discard me like the 4 people I mentioned previously did. They’ve accepted Manchild which speaks volumes to me. My family didn’t discard my ex, because he’s a great guy. And he’s been a part of my family for 21 years, too. So if you can’t tell, we’re all one big mixed up, intertwined fam-damily.

Recently with the graduation of kidlet # 1, some of us were all mixed up together. Exes and in-laws, cousins and spouses, boyfriends and special friends…just a big ol’ bowl of relation spaghetti - and we had a ball. I had the pleasure of spending lots of time with my ex, his sister, my kiddos, and my new hubby. It didn’t matter what the particular relation was because we were all there to honor the fact that kidlet had survived 12 years of schooling.

I feel really fortunate to have the type of relationships I do with friends, family, ex-family, in-laws, outlaws, cousins, brothers, and kids. I want to go to the grave knowing as many people as humanly possible. I feel that the more people you know, the better off you are. And I feel even more strongly that you can’t have too many friends. I know the official title of some of my peeps are family but I consider them friends as well.

Congratulations kidlet, you had a whole army of family, friends and others cheering for you. More than you can count on one hand!

Well, it's official

Babycakes will be making the official walk across the stage to graduate and I will be crying bucketfuls of tears somewhere in the audience. I'm happy for her but I'm also sad. It seems like yesterday she was my tiny baby and today she's my high school graduate. Tomorrow she'll be getting married and the day after that she'll be having babies of her own.

I'm sure my kidlet will be successful at whatever she decides to do. She's a brave little cuss. I'm the sniveling, whining, crying mommy who doesn't want her chickie to leave the nest. But I'm not going to tell her that. I'll cheer (and maybe cry a little) and tell her to fly away and be free. And remind her that the door will always be open to her. Congratulations kidlet. You done good.

Confusing Times

Have you ever had someone in your life that you know is bad for you but you still can't erase them from your mind? I have someone like that. This person has been rattling around my brain for the better part of 35 years. He was rotten to me way back when and is still rotten to me. The last encounter I had with him ended terribly. He lied to me (just like he did back then) and left a bad taste in my mouth so to speak. I knew I shouldn't have trusted him. I KNEW it and yet, once again, I was a sucker. The only difference between now and when I was a youngster is that I had my guard up and I didn't end up with a broken heart. Thank gosh.

I had a chance to see him again yesterday - 3 years after he lied to me and let me down yet again and I almost went. But common sense got the better of me. I think that the only reason I would have gone would have been to spew mean words at him to try and hurt him. It wouldn't have done any good. If he didn't care enough to tell me the truth 3 years ago, why would things be any different? A leopard doesn't change it's spots.

So why do I let such a schmuck bother me? It pisses me off that the jerk can still get under my skin! Who's the chump? Me! I know that he knows he did something really wrong to me because he didn't bother to notify me that he was coming into town and normally he would call me first out of all of our friends. So, I know he has a teeny weeny grain of conscience. Actually, I'm slightly insulted that he didn't call me. Because I didn't get to have the pleasure of telling him to frick off and slamming the phone down in his ear. Maybe that's what is bugging me so much. He shat upon me the last time I saw him and I haven't gotten to retaliate. The only thing I got to do to him for doing me wrong was to drop him off at the airport early in the morning, leaving him to wait for a flight out of town, all...day...long. And that was no where near the punishment he deserved.

I'm sure the sting will fade in time. But I'm still pissed that it even stings to begin with. I hate being a sucker.