The Things I Will Miss.....Part One

Just a few.........

The Things I Will Miss.....Part One

Just a few.........

MOMMY JUST NEEDS HER COFFEE!

I used to marvel at the fact that my mom got up so early in order to get the rest of us out into the world. She was up, she was together and she could GET SHIT DONE in the morning.
Me.
Not so much.
This morning I figured it out.
She got up BEFORE us. She drank coffee, probably cups and cups worth or more.
So, unlike me, she wasn't sitting in front of the PC struggling to read the News online - because GOD KNOWS I can't watch the NETWORK NEWS IN FRONT OF MY CHILDREN. And I'm sitting here, struggling with my motorskills, sucking down my hot black cup of caffeinated goodness - and the words, the words keep coming at me.
Words, rattling out of the mouth of a 4 year old going over each and every detail of the brochures brought home from his father's recent trip to Georgia. Words, I want I want I want, Can we, Can We, Can We........aahhhhhh
stop.

Mommy needs her coffee.

Mommy come see this, Mommy come see this train (oh you mean the train I've seen 1000 times on the Noggin promotion), Mommy can we watch Nick Jr (no for gods sake no I let you watch it and the commercials drove me crazy because I had to keep getting up to see what retarded toy you want that I will NEVER buy you because it doesn't work like that in real life/they are unreasonably violent/they suck in general.) Mommy do they have Volcanoes in Georgia? Mommy can a baby T-Rex Kill you? Mom what kind of train stores to they have in Georgia? Mommy when it's my birthday how can I decide what kind of cake to have? There are too many choices.

Oh please stop.

Mommy needs her coffee.

Mommy look at this, they have snow on this mountain in GA can we go there? (yes) "Look mommy they have a whale shark do whale sharks eat people?" (ummm, I don't know) "But mom don't see teeth I think you are wrong" (okay, please let me just drink my coffee) "Can a whale shark kill you?" (Yes anything can kill you. But it might be an accident.) "Mom when we move to Georgia, do they have floods?"

Oh My God.

I need my Coffee.

MOMMY JUST NEEDS HER COFFEE!

I used to marvel at the fact that my mom got up so early in order to get the rest of us out into the world. She was up, she was together and she could GET SHIT DONE in the morning.
Me.
Not so much.
This morning I figured it out.
She got up BEFORE us. She drank coffee, probably cups and cups worth or more.
So, unlike me, she wasn't sitting in front of the PC struggling to read the News online - because GOD KNOWS I can't watch the NETWORK NEWS IN FRONT OF MY CHILDREN. And I'm sitting here, struggling with my motorskills, sucking down my hot black cup of caffeinated goodness - and the words, the words keep coming at me.
Words, rattling out of the mouth of a 4 year old going over each and every detail of the brochures brought home from his father's recent trip to Georgia. Words, I want I want I want, Can we, Can We, Can We........aahhhhhh
stop.

Mommy needs her coffee.

Mommy come see this, Mommy come see this train (oh you mean the train I've seen 1000 times on the Noggin promotion), Mommy can we watch Nick Jr (no for gods sake no I let you watch it and the commercials drove me crazy because I had to keep getting up to see what retarded toy you want that I will NEVER buy you because it doesn't work like that in real life/they are unreasonably violent/they suck in general.) Mommy do they have Volcanoes in Georgia? Mommy can a baby T-Rex Kill you? Mom what kind of train stores to they have in Georgia? Mommy when it's my birthday how can I decide what kind of cake to have? There are too many choices.

Oh please stop.

Mommy needs her coffee.

Mommy look at this, they have snow on this mountain in GA can we go there? (yes) "Look mommy they have a whale shark do whale sharks eat people?" (ummm, I don't know) "But mom don't see teeth I think you are wrong" (okay, please let me just drink my coffee) "Can a whale shark kill you?" (Yes anything can kill you. But it might be an accident.) "Mom when we move to Georgia, do they have floods?"

Oh My God.

I need my Coffee.

It's All LORD OF THE FLIES Around Here

So have you ever seen that episode of SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE where they do a skit with a news team delivering the news, and suddenly the teleprompters go out? In a manner of minutes, the anchors have eaten the sports guy and are searching for a new diety to replace the teleprompter, and are creating civilization on the set..........because of the loss of that which keeps them going.
My husband went out of town to find us a new home.

And let me tell you people something.

That man could come home with a stripper on his arm right now and I'd be happy to see him.

There is no single parenthood in my future. I'm one day away from serving nothing but the Charlie Brown thanksgiving meal to my kids on a regular basis. And it's not because I don't have food. It's because OMG I am losing my mind. How do people do this on their own, with no relief?

Baby, I love you. And I can't wait to see you. I am going to sleep for two days, just because I can't RELAX and sleep properly when you are not here.

It's All LORD OF THE FLIES Around Here

So have you ever seen that episode of SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE where they do a skit with a news team delivering the news, and suddenly the teleprompters go out? In a manner of minutes, the anchors have eaten the sports guy and are searching for a new diety to replace the teleprompter, and are creating civilization on the set..........because of the loss of that which keeps them going.
My husband went out of town to find us a new home.

And let me tell you people something.

That man could come home with a stripper on his arm right now and I'd be happy to see him.

There is no single parenthood in my future. I'm one day away from serving nothing but the Charlie Brown thanksgiving meal to my kids on a regular basis. And it's not because I don't have food. It's because OMG I am losing my mind. How do people do this on their own, with no relief?

Baby, I love you. And I can't wait to see you. I am going to sleep for two days, just because I can't RELAX and sleep properly when you are not here.

The Difference Between Soap and Conditioner is...........

Did you know that my eyesight really isn't that bad, although I wear glasses?
And did you know, that because of that, I often take for granted that I can see things without my glasses, that I cannot.
For instance, if I read in bed, I do not wear my glasses. Don't need'em.

In the shower, for instance, I obviously don't wear them.

And I rarely look twice at stuff when I pick it up in there.

Water. On.
Check.
Hot enough?
Check.
Shampoo, lather rinse.
Check.
Conditioner.
WTF????????????

Yeah.

Bottle of white Caress Liquid + Bottle of Pantene in same shower / my lack of vision =

INSANELY SOAPY HAIR.

OMG.

I am not sure it is all out.

But my hair smells good.

The Difference Between Soap and Conditioner is...........

Did you know that my eyesight really isn't that bad, although I wear glasses?
And did you know, that because of that, I often take for granted that I can see things without my glasses, that I cannot.
For instance, if I read in bed, I do not wear my glasses. Don't need'em.

In the shower, for instance, I obviously don't wear them.

And I rarely look twice at stuff when I pick it up in there.

Water. On.
Check.
Hot enough?
Check.
Shampoo, lather rinse.
Check.
Conditioner.
WTF????????????

Yeah.

Bottle of white Caress Liquid + Bottle of Pantene in same shower / my lack of vision =

INSANELY SOAPY HAIR.

OMG.

I am not sure it is all out.

But my hair smells good.

The Incredible Spring Mounted Cannons of Fort Desoto

We like travelling to Fort Desoto because it's been a family tradition since before OUR branch of the family was established. My husband's family used to vacation there at the campgrounds, and before we were married my husband and I would camp there once a year.
We went ONE LAST TIME before we move away when my mom was here. My boys love to run around the fort itself, playing on the cannon.
While we were there last time, letting the kids run around, a couple walked over to take photos and this was what we overheard.
HER "How do they fire these cannons when they can't see over the walls?"
HIM "Well these are on big springs, and they raise up over the walls of the fort."

Ummmmm. What?

Let my 2 year old show you how it works. See, artillery are fired based on COORDINATES vs LINE OF SIGHT which probably hasn't been used since Napoleon and maybe not even then. They use triangulation to determine the coordinates of the target and rotate the cannon as shown here by Baby Birdman.

The Cannon ROTATE to acquire their target based on coordinates, and then FIRE upon the ships at sea. They DO NOT SPRING UPWARD on their base - take a gander for the enemy and then fire, recoiling back down on their spring base to hide from return fire. A cannon of that sort would most likely have been manufactured by the ACME Cannon factory and used in the ongoing war between Wyle E. Coyote and the Road Runner.

We laughed our asses off considering HOW these giant, incredibly HEAVY cannon would LEAP into the air, take aim, FIRE, and then recoil.

Seriously people. I realize warfare isn't girl stuff and I'm sort of surprised at the detail with which I remember how it works, I just store useless info.

Or is it useless?

Just remember.....I know how cannons work. I will probably be very useful when the revolution comes.

And now, a gratuitous family shot.

The Incredible Spring Mounted Cannons of Fort Desoto

We like travelling to Fort Desoto because it's been a family tradition since before OUR branch of the family was established. My husband's family used to vacation there at the campgrounds, and before we were married my husband and I would camp there once a year.
We went ONE LAST TIME before we move away when my mom was here. My boys love to run around the fort itself, playing on the cannon.
While we were there last time, letting the kids run around, a couple walked over to take photos and this was what we overheard.
HER "How do they fire these cannons when they can't see over the walls?"
HIM "Well these are on big springs, and they raise up over the walls of the fort."

Ummmmm. What?

Let my 2 year old show you how it works. See, artillery are fired based on COORDINATES vs LINE OF SIGHT which probably hasn't been used since Napoleon and maybe not even then. They use triangulation to determine the coordinates of the target and rotate the cannon as shown here by Baby Birdman.

The Cannon ROTATE to acquire their target based on coordinates, and then FIRE upon the ships at sea. They DO NOT SPRING UPWARD on their base - take a gander for the enemy and then fire, recoiling back down on their spring base to hide from return fire. A cannon of that sort would most likely have been manufactured by the ACME Cannon factory and used in the ongoing war between Wyle E. Coyote and the Road Runner.

We laughed our asses off considering HOW these giant, incredibly HEAVY cannon would LEAP into the air, take aim, FIRE, and then recoil.

Seriously people. I realize warfare isn't girl stuff and I'm sort of surprised at the detail with which I remember how it works, I just store useless info.

Or is it useless?

Just remember.....I know how cannons work. I will probably be very useful when the revolution comes.

And now, a gratuitous family shot.

My heart on my sleeve

I try not to blog every emotion that comes rolling through me. If you know me, you know I wear my heart on my sleeve and do not do a good job of calmly explaining anything. If I'm upset, I will either not discuss it at all or I'll BLAM hit you with my post about my mom being ill.
And so, I think I'm OVERLY upset when I post things like that.......and I'm panicked and I don't want 500 HUGS comments, but I have some great need to get my fears out there. To speak them, so that they aren't haunting me anymore.
There are two schools of thought about speaking your fears. I embrace them both because I'm a girl and an emotional girl at that. One school of thought says that you should never speak your fears - because you will give them life.
The other school of thought says that you should speak them - to keep them from eating you up inside.

I'm not sure which works better.

But I do know this, my mom is better, she's in a good hospital and I'm almost 40. It is time for me to be realistic.......everyone is aging. If this was a dress rehearsal.....perhaps I am better prepared for next time.

Anyway, my mom is better. Not perfect. But better. And I feel better.

Not perfect.

But better.

My heart on my sleeve

I try not to blog every emotion that comes rolling through me. If you know me, you know I wear my heart on my sleeve and do not do a good job of calmly explaining anything. If I'm upset, I will either not discuss it at all or I'll BLAM hit you with my post about my mom being ill.
And so, I think I'm OVERLY upset when I post things like that.......and I'm panicked and I don't want 500 HUGS comments, but I have some great need to get my fears out there. To speak them, so that they aren't haunting me anymore.
There are two schools of thought about speaking your fears. I embrace them both because I'm a girl and an emotional girl at that. One school of thought says that you should never speak your fears - because you will give them life.
The other school of thought says that you should speak them - to keep them from eating you up inside.

I'm not sure which works better.

But I do know this, my mom is better, she's in a good hospital and I'm almost 40. It is time for me to be realistic.......everyone is aging. If this was a dress rehearsal.....perhaps I am better prepared for next time.

Anyway, my mom is better. Not perfect. But better. And I feel better.

Not perfect.

But better.

My Nightmare

I had a nightmare a few nights ago.
I dreamed the Baby Birth of Cool went into the hospital for the flu and never came out again. I dreamed of a SUV with only two car seats in the back, and a toddler bed gone. I dreamed of a hole in my heart so wide I cannot explain it's width to you in words.
I dreamed that no one understood why I couldn't accept what had happened, that everything had become so dramatic and so wrong so quickly and that I was the only one screaming in horror.
Everyone else seemed unphased by the change. In my dream, only I couldn't handle it.

Last night my mom went into the hospital.

They told me she had flu like sypmtoms.
Today they tell me things that are much worse.

I feel like I am standing on a cliff.

My Nightmare

I had a nightmare a few nights ago.
I dreamed the Baby Birth of Cool went into the hospital for the flu and never came out again. I dreamed of a SUV with only two car seats in the back, and a toddler bed gone. I dreamed of a hole in my heart so wide I cannot explain it's width to you in words.
I dreamed that no one understood why I couldn't accept what had happened, that everything had become so dramatic and so wrong so quickly and that I was the only one screaming in horror.
Everyone else seemed unphased by the change. In my dream, only I couldn't handle it.

Last night my mom went into the hospital.

They told me she had flu like sypmtoms.
Today they tell me things that are much worse.

I feel like I am standing on a cliff.

My Left Foot

Has become a bit gimpy.
It's frustrating really, because something is actually WRONG with it.
My money is on BONE SPUR of some sort.

I don't actually know what a bone spur is. It just sounds right.
Here are my symptons.

I have a pain.

In my heel.

When I wake up every morning, or if I've been sitting for a long time, it's really really really painful to put weight on for the first several steps. REALLY painful. Sharp. Then, it dulls down into this ache. Like, if something round but sort of big was in your shoe.
All
Day
Long.

I have no bruise.

I have not injured myself.

I just have, this random pain that never goes away. Pain killer doesn't effect it.

So peanut gallery, what do YOU think?

My Left Foot

Has become a bit gimpy.
It's frustrating really, because something is actually WRONG with it.
My money is on BONE SPUR of some sort.

I don't actually know what a bone spur is. It just sounds right.
Here are my symptons.

I have a pain.

In my heel.

When I wake up every morning, or if I've been sitting for a long time, it's really really really painful to put weight on for the first several steps. REALLY painful. Sharp. Then, it dulls down into this ache. Like, if something round but sort of big was in your shoe.
All
Day
Long.

I have no bruise.

I have not injured myself.

I just have, this random pain that never goes away. Pain killer doesn't effect it.

So peanut gallery, what do YOU think?

WEEKLY WORDS CHALLENGE

BUSY

CONTENT

WEEKLY WORDS CHALLENGE

BUSY

CONTENT

REAL MOMS ADMIT THEY ARE MOMS AND NOT COOL ANYMORE

Here’s how it works: Put up a post “Real Moms [insert what you do here]”, followed by an explanation , a picture, and a “Real Moms. Making ….”. Then tag five people.


I was tagged by Elizabeth so I thought I would share this.

When I was younger, I went out to a club with XTA in the Triangle area of NC. First that night we went to a sock monkey art exhibit, and saw WW2 sex education films - the kind that were shown to soldiers. It was a hoot. Then we went to a rock bar and hung out. I met a boy with full sleeve tattoos and a goatee who offered to pierce my upper ear. This was flirtation. He also offered to pierce OTHER stuff. Which I declined. But the next day. XTA and I went to his extremely grubby piercing/tattoo parlor and I let him jam a piercing needle through my upper ear.

I had three holes in each ear, and now I had one up high, on the left. TOTALLY cool in 1996.

7 piercings. Not a lot in some circles, but pretty cool.

When I got pregnant with Lil Satchmo, I took out my earrings, and I took out THAT earring.

Why?

Maybe it was because I was an older Mom, 34 when I got pregnant, I felt like there was nothing lamer than a mom trying to look cool. Forget it, it's over. YOU ARE A MOM.

And that's okay.

I had watched other moms go get this same piercing in their mid 40s......and honestly, it looked a bit silly with their bright white sneakers and super dark blue jeans.

I like being a mom, despite the previous post. I will be a mom as long as I live. My shoes are too white, just like all the moms I used to snicker at. I had on the lamest clothes in the pit at the KORN show a few months ago.

But that's okay, because the cool ship sailed......and I am SO okay with that.

I'm going to tag some of you bizotches, so get ready....let's have......
IZZY, QOS, ALI, DEVRA and KAREN

REAL MOMS ADMIT THEY ARE MOMS AND NOT COOL ANYMORE

Here’s how it works: Put up a post “Real Moms [insert what you do here]”, followed by an explanation , a picture, and a “Real Moms. Making ….”. Then tag five people.


I was tagged by Elizabeth so I thought I would share this.

When I was younger, I went out to a club with XTA in the Triangle area of NC. First that night we went to a sock monkey art exhibit, and saw WW2 sex education films - the kind that were shown to soldiers. It was a hoot. Then we went to a rock bar and hung out. I met a boy with full sleeve tattoos and a goatee who offered to pierce my upper ear. This was flirtation. He also offered to pierce OTHER stuff. Which I declined. But the next day. XTA and I went to his extremely grubby piercing/tattoo parlor and I let him jam a piercing needle through my upper ear.

I had three holes in each ear, and now I had one up high, on the left. TOTALLY cool in 1996.

7 piercings. Not a lot in some circles, but pretty cool.

When I got pregnant with Lil Satchmo, I took out my earrings, and I took out THAT earring.

Why?

Maybe it was because I was an older Mom, 34 when I got pregnant, I felt like there was nothing lamer than a mom trying to look cool. Forget it, it's over. YOU ARE A MOM.

And that's okay.

I had watched other moms go get this same piercing in their mid 40s......and honestly, it looked a bit silly with their bright white sneakers and super dark blue jeans.

I like being a mom, despite the previous post. I will be a mom as long as I live. My shoes are too white, just like all the moms I used to snicker at. I had on the lamest clothes in the pit at the KORN show a few months ago.

But that's okay, because the cool ship sailed......and I am SO okay with that.

I'm going to tag some of you bizotches, so get ready....let's have......
IZZY, QOS, ALI, DEVRA and KAREN

I AM A MOMMYBLOGGER

I am not sure why this is supposed to be a position of shame within the blogging community.

I am also sure that it's probably not "Where it's AT" in the blogging community either.

I am not sure that I am PART of a blogging community.

See, I don't read blogs that are uberhip or about stuff that doesn't interest me. Such as, I don't read blogs about knitting. I'm not anti-knitting. But, I can't knit. I'm a bit jealous of the knitting, actually. BUST magazine had this issue once on the lost domestic arts, which was really cool and it had a whole section on knitting that made me want to learn how to knit. But I got a book on knitting from the library and frankly, it totally fucking intimidated me. And I never went any further than that.

I don't presume that my kids interest you. I don't presume that anything interests you. But the two dozen people who hit my blog a day and know me, they are a little interested.

My blog isn't a news journal. Hell I can barely compose a sentence, I certainly don't correct my typos - which if you've read this far you know. I didn't take any journalism classes in school and I don't fancy myself a writer. Although, when I was growing up, I did want to be a writer. I don't believe I am one now.

So what is my blog?

It's a journal. It's about the things I love, and seldom about the things I hate, because I don't like shaking negativity out into the world. I have it, hell I can be one evil mutherfucker if provoked, but mostly I don't see the point. These are just my words, it's something to do, and it's sometimes a way to say things that I don't say in person.

So why do I take the time to point this out?

I guess mostly because I get taken back by the derision with which non-parents toss out the term MOMMYBLOGGER. Like, we're blogging racist-edicts for Tom Metzger's crew. (If you have to look that one up, you're not nearly as plugged into the world as you think you are). Like what we do is virulent, and hateful, and.......evil.

I am not better than anyone in the blogosphere. We just have different things that are important to us. I'm not sure why I'm supposed to be ashamed of that, in your eyes. I'm not sure why that makes me worthless, and without merit.

It's too bad it does.

Because I could probably learn a lot from you and vice versa. But I'll never know. Nor will you.

I AM A MOMMYBLOGGER

I am not sure why this is supposed to be a position of shame within the blogging community.

I am also sure that it's probably not "Where it's AT" in the blogging community either.

I am not sure that I am PART of a blogging community.

See, I don't read blogs that are uberhip or about stuff that doesn't interest me. Such as, I don't read blogs about knitting. I'm not anti-knitting. But, I can't knit. I'm a bit jealous of the knitting, actually. BUST magazine had this issue once on the lost domestic arts, which was really cool and it had a whole section on knitting that made me want to learn how to knit. But I got a book on knitting from the library and frankly, it totally fucking intimidated me. And I never went any further than that.

I don't presume that my kids interest you. I don't presume that anything interests you. But the two dozen people who hit my blog a day and know me, they are a little interested.

My blog isn't a news journal. Hell I can barely compose a sentence, I certainly don't correct my typos - which if you've read this far you know. I didn't take any journalism classes in school and I don't fancy myself a writer. Although, when I was growing up, I did want to be a writer. I don't believe I am one now.

So what is my blog?

It's a journal. It's about the things I love, and seldom about the things I hate, because I don't like shaking negativity out into the world. I have it, hell I can be one evil mutherfucker if provoked, but mostly I don't see the point. These are just my words, it's something to do, and it's sometimes a way to say things that I don't say in person.

So why do I take the time to point this out?

I guess mostly because I get taken back by the derision with which non-parents toss out the term MOMMYBLOGGER. Like, we're blogging racist-edicts for Tom Metzger's crew. (If you have to look that one up, you're not nearly as plugged into the world as you think you are). Like what we do is virulent, and hateful, and.......evil.

I am not better than anyone in the blogosphere. We just have different things that are important to us. I'm not sure why I'm supposed to be ashamed of that, in your eyes. I'm not sure why that makes me worthless, and without merit.

It's too bad it does.

Because I could probably learn a lot from you and vice versa. But I'll never know. Nor will you.

THIS AIN'T A SCENE IT'S A G*D* ARMS RACE

Okay,
I don't have anything related to that to say.
I just really like that song.


This is what I have to say.

No.

I'm not packing yet.

Stop ASKING ME THAT.

JEEEZ how EARLY do you people start packing?

I don't move until the first week of April, approx. I am not packing until a few days before that.

You people are really ready for me to move, aren't you?

THIS AIN'T A SCENE IT'S A G*D* ARMS RACE

Okay,
I don't have anything related to that to say.
I just really like that song.


This is what I have to say.

No.

I'm not packing yet.

Stop ASKING ME THAT.

JEEEZ how EARLY do you people start packing?

I don't move until the first week of April, approx. I am not packing until a few days before that.

You people are really ready for me to move, aren't you?

Promapalooza - The College Years

Just in case you thought I had lost all of my fashion sense when I left high school, I thought I would share this as it was sent to me and about 500 other people today. Okay not 500. This is probably Sophomore year of college, Christmas part at my mom's house. Me, Ski and Christa - the worlds most unlikely sorority sisters.

Love the hair don't you? Yes, I'm the blonde.

Thank God Nirvana came along and made us all straighten our hair...........

Promapalooza - The College Years

Just in case you thought I had lost all of my fashion sense when I left high school, I thought I would share this as it was sent to me and about 500 other people today. Okay not 500. This is probably Sophomore year of college, Christmas part at my mom's house. Me, Ski and Christa - the worlds most unlikely sorority sisters.

Love the hair don't you? Yes, I'm the blonde.

Thank God Nirvana came along and made us all straighten our hair...........

Songs of Sorrow Songs of Shame

I am a huge addict when it comes to American Idol. American Idol butters my bread, I tell you. I am a fan of the beginning; the horrid auditions, the disillusioned parents who think their kids can sing, the friends who aren't truthful with their bestest friends and tell them they should be a star and prove this by screaming obscenities at sweet, meek little Ryan Seacrest on their way out. I love the people who are truly SO tone deaf that they don't even know what is being said to them about their pitch and tone. I love the idiots who insist on singing Stevie Wonder although even good singers are smart enough to shy away from his stuff. I enjoy the sob stories about people who lived on meal worms and the rats their grandpa could catch and never had anywhere to sleep but the inside of a rail box car when there was one handy (okay I haven't ever heard THAT story, but I would love it).
In the middle, I get bored.
I do learn to hate some people during the whole HOLLYWOOD WEEK time - because you really get to see what assholes some folks are.
Which is why at the end, I LOVE the SONGS OF SHAME.
I am not sure what "DR COX FROM SCRUBS" like genius thought up the songs of shame. But I am certain that there is nothing I enjoy more than watching someone who was a total jackass during Hollywood week get voted off, then be expected to SUCK IT UP and stand on stage and SING IT.
Because, last week we thought you sucked. So we TOTALLY want to hear that crappy stuff ONE MORE TIME.
So sing your song of shame.
That's right.
It's the song that was so bad last week that now you don't get to stay anymore.
HA hahahaha
You suck.

Songs of Sorrow Songs of Shame

I am a huge addict when it comes to American Idol. American Idol butters my bread, I tell you. I am a fan of the beginning; the horrid auditions, the disillusioned parents who think their kids can sing, the friends who aren't truthful with their bestest friends and tell them they should be a star and prove this by screaming obscenities at sweet, meek little Ryan Seacrest on their way out. I love the people who are truly SO tone deaf that they don't even know what is being said to them about their pitch and tone. I love the idiots who insist on singing Stevie Wonder although even good singers are smart enough to shy away from his stuff. I enjoy the sob stories about people who lived on meal worms and the rats their grandpa could catch and never had anywhere to sleep but the inside of a rail box car when there was one handy (okay I haven't ever heard THAT story, but I would love it).
In the middle, I get bored.
I do learn to hate some people during the whole HOLLYWOOD WEEK time - because you really get to see what assholes some folks are.
Which is why at the end, I LOVE the SONGS OF SHAME.
I am not sure what "DR COX FROM SCRUBS" like genius thought up the songs of shame. But I am certain that there is nothing I enjoy more than watching someone who was a total jackass during Hollywood week get voted off, then be expected to SUCK IT UP and stand on stage and SING IT.
Because, last week we thought you sucked. So we TOTALLY want to hear that crappy stuff ONE MORE TIME.
So sing your song of shame.
That's right.
It's the song that was so bad last week that now you don't get to stay anymore.
HA hahahaha
You suck.

Weekly Words Challenge

Gracious

Steadfast

Weekly Words Challenge

Gracious

Steadfast

Another Jewel from the Kaiser

Run don't Walk.......to the Queen's place and watch the clip.

That's all for now. But once you watch it, you'll know it's enough.

Another Jewel from the Kaiser

Run don't Walk.......to the Queen's place and watch the clip.

That's all for now. But once you watch it, you'll know it's enough.

Were You Aware I Know Marilyn Manson?

I call him BABY DADDY

Were You Aware I Know Marilyn Manson?

I call him BABY DADDY

For the Barrons

If you were wondering what, if anything you can for the Barron's who just lost their son Doss (see post below) besides baking something that freezes beautifully, they have set up a fund for Jorja, that they have asked people to donate to, in lieu of flowers.

From Rob's Blog:
"Many people have asked me where they can send flowers and/or cards. In lieu of flowers and cards, please send donations to the USAA College Savings for Jorja Rail Barron, account #502244368-01. Make Checks Payable to: USAA College Savings, In Check Notes Line: Jorja Rail Barron

Mail To:
USAA College Savings Plan
P.O. Box 55354
Boston Ma, 02205-5354

[ed. note: USAA does not track from whom the donations come. If you prefer, you may mail the donations to me (made out to USAA College Savings) and I will make sure the checks are sent to the proper location. Email me at rob AT thewrittenrob DOT com for the address.]"

Our hearts and thoughts are with the Barron family.

For the Barrons

If you were wondering what, if anything you can for the Barron's who just lost their son Doss (see post below) besides baking something that freezes beautifully, they have set up a fund for Jorja, that they have asked people to donate to, in lieu of flowers.

From Rob's Blog:
"Many people have asked me where they can send flowers and/or cards. In lieu of flowers and cards, please send donations to the USAA College Savings for Jorja Rail Barron, account #502244368-01. Make Checks Payable to: USAA College Savings, In Check Notes Line: Jorja Rail Barron

Mail To:
USAA College Savings Plan
P.O. Box 55354
Boston Ma, 02205-5354

[ed. note: USAA does not track from whom the donations come. If you prefer, you may mail the donations to me (made out to USAA College Savings) and I will make sure the checks are sent to the proper location. Email me at rob AT thewrittenrob DOT com for the address.]"

Our hearts and thoughts are with the Barron family.

Baking a Mental Casserole

Different cultures have different death rituals. In the flatlands of Indiana, when you knew someone who died, you baked a casserole or some such dish (maybe a pie or cake if you were a master at that) and took it over to that persons house. I think that there are a few reasons for this. One is that you don't want the family of the deceased to have to worry about sustenance......you want food to just BE there for them so that they can grieve without the worry of the day to day needs like eating. Also, it gives you something to do. Instead of being self indulgent and reflecting upon your self or what-have-you, you concentrate on what you are making. You need to find the recipe, you consider and consult with other on what THEY are taking over to the family to be sure that there is a variety and to minimize duplication. Then you probably had shopping to do, gotta get some peas, need some rigatoni noodles........etc. A trip to the store is in order, maybe an upscale grocery if you are really trying to distract your mind.
We do these things, to keep our lives in order in the face of grief. Look, we say to ourselves, everything is alright. 'I'm going to the grocery store, I'm picking out cumin or cinnamon and if I am doing these things, then everything is alright' we tell ourselves. 'I'm considering taking red beans and rice because someone else I know is taking over macaroni salad and if I'm considering menu items, then everything is alright'. Isn't it?

So today, I bake a mental casserole for my blogmigo Rob and his family.

But nothing is alright.

Baking a Mental Casserole

Different cultures have different death rituals. In the flatlands of Indiana, when you knew someone who died, you baked a casserole or some such dish (maybe a pie or cake if you were a master at that) and took it over to that persons house. I think that there are a few reasons for this. One is that you don't want the family of the deceased to have to worry about sustenance......you want food to just BE there for them so that they can grieve without the worry of the day to day needs like eating. Also, it gives you something to do. Instead of being self indulgent and reflecting upon your self or what-have-you, you concentrate on what you are making. You need to find the recipe, you consider and consult with other on what THEY are taking over to the family to be sure that there is a variety and to minimize duplication. Then you probably had shopping to do, gotta get some peas, need some rigatoni noodles........etc. A trip to the store is in order, maybe an upscale grocery if you are really trying to distract your mind.
We do these things, to keep our lives in order in the face of grief. Look, we say to ourselves, everything is alright. 'I'm going to the grocery store, I'm picking out cumin or cinnamon and if I am doing these things, then everything is alright' we tell ourselves. 'I'm considering taking red beans and rice because someone else I know is taking over macaroni salad and if I'm considering menu items, then everything is alright'. Isn't it?

So today, I bake a mental casserole for my blogmigo Rob and his family.

But nothing is alright.

I Say Hey Y'All And YeeHaw

OR I will be.
In about a month.

The news you have been waiting for.

Starvation has been averted.
The family will survive.
Health Insurance Returns.

New Job. New Town.

Georgia, here we come.

I promise to get my head out of my ass and start posting more regularly.

I Say Hey Y'All And YeeHaw

OR I will be.
In about a month.

The news you have been waiting for.

Starvation has been averted.
The family will survive.
Health Insurance Returns.

New Job. New Town.

Georgia, here we come.

I promise to get my head out of my ass and start posting more regularly.