Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Merry Christmas!

I managed to get up early again this year.

I am sitting by the Christmas tree, which is the only light on in the house.

Dawn is just peeping up in the East, I can see it out the window if I turn my head.

I love this time of day, especially on Christmas. The kids are still young enough to believe in Santa and magic.

I am stationed here waiting for the sound from upstairs of feet hitting the floor and running down the stairs.

That for me, is the magical moment, now that I know who Santa really is.

It is very fleeting and I am thankful for it while it lasts.

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas.

If you are a person who loves this day, I hope it is a long wonderful day filled with joy and fun.

If you are a person who hates this day, I hope it is over in a flash for you and that things will be better once it is finished.

Off to buy a hive of bees from Heifer International while I wait for the pitter pat of little feet.

Merry Christmas and as always, thank you for reading my crap

Monday, December 23, 2013

Bechdel Briefs

I logged onto Facebook first thing this morning and saw a post from my friend Heather.

She said that she will no longer be able to watch a movie without checking to see if it passes the Bechdel test.

The Bechdel test, for those of you who don't know, was first introduced in a comic strip by Alison Bechdel called "Dikes to Watch Out For".

A female character said in a strip that she only watches movies if it passes 3 requirements.

1. It has 2 women in it
2. Who talk to each other
3. About something other than men.

Look it up, and my apologies if my explanation seems vague. It is 7am. I have a deadline in 10 minutes at which time, I have to wake B up and begin my very last leg of the X-mas rush.

I am so ahead of the game this year. I finished shopping on Friday.  I wrapped almost everything and I am all finished with baking.

Go Cindy.

So back to this Bechdel test.

It is very interesting. The article I read from Wikipedia also mentioned that one could also apply these rule to one's life/relationships to see if you yourself, as a woman, pass this test.

I am married with oodles of kids. I rarely talk about the opposite sex. Maybe to bitch about B, but not often.
He does Ok most of the time.

I was at a party the other night and the main topics of conversation were "Merkins" and "Vajazzle".

Looks like that party passed the Bechdel test.

You know what I talk about with other women a lot?

Whether or not our children change their underwear.

This is a perfect segway into my idea that I have been thinking about.

My magnum opus as far as embarrassing my children, which, if you read my blog, you know I love to do.

 My friend, who will remain unnamed, has a daughter who does not change her underwear.

I thought it would be so great if I went out and bought said daughter a package of "days of the week" undies for Christmas.

When she opened the package, I would explain to her, that her mother tells me that she never changes her underwear and I thought this would be a perfect gift.

Even better if V gave it to her.

But what would be best?

Arrange a "Secret Santa" party with the neighborhood parents. (most of whom have children who do not change their underwear. It is an epidemic this side of the Parkway, so I hear)

Parents will tell the kids that they will grab the gift for them.

At the party, which would be a group of 8-11 year olds of both genders. (This is VERY important as kids this age are very self conscious about certain things when the other sex is involved.)

The children would open the gifts. All which would be underwear.

All the parents would exclaim in joy and make comments in front of the kids such as, "Oh how wonderful! You never change your underwear and these are so nice! Maybe this will motivate you!"

Your children will hate you. They will probably stick you in the crappiest nursing home when it's time.

But think of those glorious seconds, watching them squirm in sheer embarrassment after the underwear goes round.

And probably totally worth it as children can be so rotten right before X-mas zero hour, that they most likely deserve whatever you can dish out.

Mine do.

It's worth it.

And there is still time...

Monday, December 09, 2013

Crappy Post

I've got to quit sugar.

Not until after Christmas of course.

Probably never. I love that shit.

It does make me horrifically silly and I say things sometimes that I find funny, but other people do not.

G got mad at me last night. Enraged is more like it.

I blame cupcake #4.

When G gets really mad, she giggles as she tries to kick your ass.

I told her last night that sometimes, when a woman gives birth, they poop a little as they push the baby out.

I told her that I had a full breakfast and a chicken salad sandwich for lunch while I was in labor with her.

So odds are, I probably crapped on her head as she came out.

Only the nurses will ever know and I'm sure they are not telling.

Yeah, G didn't take that well at all.

I blame the cupcakes.

Sunday, December 08, 2013

Sunday Blues

Day of rest, my ass.

Sundays are the only day that all of us are home together.

It's also the one that drives me totally ragged. Just after coming off a 16 hour shift the day before as well.

It's a day of grocery shopping, ice skating lessons and whatever horrors that the family can cook up for me to do.

Speaking of cooking-it's Sunday dinner too?

I want to know the asshole who thought of that bright idea.


I was doing Ok, my only big plan aside from the Sunday basics, was to take the kids to the Holiday Flea market.

Horst then comes up with the paper, even before I am finished with my first cup of coffee, to ask that I take him shopping for Christmas.

Just a few hours ago, while at work, I had a person I worked with slowly and loudly eating a banana next to me.

And I really couldn't tell them to knock it off. Professionalism and all.

It was almost enough to make me jump out the second story window.

This might be the one that puts me over the edge. especially if Horst insists on the bulky packages.

However I do have a plan.

Bring him to UPS and sit in the fucking car while he ships it.

Ok, I would love to stay and write more about the tortures and torments of Sunday family day, but I just  looked at the clock and it's time to go.

Best get this over with..Pray for me.

Thursday, December 05, 2013

Call Me Dr Zaius

So Thanksgiving is done. NaNoWriMo is done. December is here.

Thanksgiving Eve marks the return of Steve, the homicidal and perverted Christmas Elf. Steve likes to carry knives.

He also enjoys hanging around the bathroom, giving everyone stage fright with his cheerful, vacant grin. Von speculated last year that Steve and the tooth fairy engaged in some casual sex as well. Here's the old post- 

We found him yesterday hanging around here-

It's kind of a pain in the ass. I always forget to move him. I end up remembering when the kids are already awake, so I either have to smuggle the elf somewhere else, under my shirt or I have to call attention to the fact that he did not move and declare him to be a "complete lazy fuck".

But I'm not here today to tell you of my elf problems. I'm here to talk about my outfit. Actually, my favorite sweater. 

Guess what? B hates that too. Bag, water never ends.

I put my favorite sweater, which is actually more of a short sleeved sweater tunic, on when we were getting ready to go see a friend and his family on the day after Thanksgiving. 

B exclaimed from the bed, "What the hell are you wearing! You look like someone from The Planet of the Apes!" 

I explained that I was cold as well as, lacking in cardigans because my other ones had all worn out. 

B was understanding of my predicament, but stated he would not allow me to go to his friends house dressed like Dr Zeus. 

I took the sweater off and promised him that I would dress more like his mother next time. (It's not directed at you, P, I love your style-all the barbs are directed towards your son, as always)

Here is me

I don't know if I see much of a resemblance

I will admit, I was secretly delighted. You see, my friend Heather was told recently, that her outfit looked "old school Star Trek" and I was a bit jealous. 

No reason to be now. 
 I wonder if people think that there is a Comic Con in town whenever Heather and I go out togther. 

(BTW-Heather has an awesome new blog called "It's Your Mirror" over there on my blog list. Go read it.) 

In the end, I wore a shawl out that day.  But, as with everything B dislikes of mine, his disapproval has kindled a deep love in my heart for the Dr Zaius sweater. 

Perhaps it will motivate him to get me some kick ass cardigans for Christmas. 

The only drawback is, whenever I put the Dr Zaius on, that Simpson's song plays in my head all day.

I guess it's a small price to pay to look so awesome.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

Happy Thanksgiving

In regards to my previous post about having to go see that stupid Planes movie. I want you all to know, in the spirit of full disclosure (and also because one of my friends pointed out that by not going to that movie I was lying to everyone who reads my blog.), I didn't have to go see it! It was great, we went to see the later movie and skipped that one. I did not spend that extra time watching a monkey masturbate either. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

I thought that you all would be a bit tired of turkeys by now, so I'm going to celebrate with a picture of a turkey vulture, enjoying his own Thanksgiving day feast.

I think he looks very thankful for that random carcass.

I had plans to do this thing that I found on Pinterest. You cut leaf shapes out of colorful construction paper and every day you write on one of the leaves something you are thankful for. Then you hang it up on a strinng on the wall.

It looked really nice.

I didn't do it.

There were a lot of people who would post what they were thankful for on their Facebook page. One a day for thirty days.

I liked that idea, but never got around to it.

For November, like I've said before a million times, I've been trying to write a novel in a month.

I have not yet reached 50K, but I've passed 30K and I am pretty proud of that.

I'm going to go write a bit more before everyone else wakes and turkey mayhem begins, but before I go, here are my 30 things that I am currently thankful for.

1. B, of course. I am pretty damn lucky. We still have a lot of things to say to each other (not swears) after almost 15 years and, I can't think of a better person to stand strong with me against the evil tyranny of the children.
2. I am thankful for the children. They are royal pains in the ass, but they really make me laughand I adore them.
3. I am thankful for plumbing and proper sewer lines that take waste away from my home. (No joke, we all should be thankful for that)
4. I am thankful for clean water
5. I am thankful that I am the only early riser in a houseful of late sleepers. I love having the early mornings to myself.
6. I am thankful for the way things work out sometimes. For instance, I'm actually thankful for that whole beehive vandalism incident back in May, where I ended up having to move my hives. Turns out, I would have had to move them anyways in the end. If that whole thing had not happened, it may have been a frantic move later in the season. A lot of good things came from my hive being vandalized. It's funny how things work out.
7. I am thankful for social media. It allows me to keep in touch with old friends that I would not have kept in touch with otherwise. It also gives me the opportunity to entertain you all and I really like that.
8. I am thankful for opportunities to make people laugh
9. I am thankful for opportunities to help people. I know it sounds hokey, but it's true.
10. I am thankful for my job, which pays the bills and gives me the time to raise my kids the way I want to, as well as engage in the million of other things I do. Especially write.
11. I am thankful for the stories that have been kicking around my head. I'm never bored because of them.
12. I'm thankful for the opportunity to be able to practice getting those stories out of my head and onto paper. It's grueling and difficult I tell you, but I love it.
13. I am thankful for Zovirax antiviral cream. My cold sore was, honestly, the size of a man's big toe. I suspected it was actually my absorbed twin, trying to break free in order to kill us all. It looks much better now. Pinkie toe sized
14. I am thankful for elderberry syrup
15. I am thankful as you all are I am sure, for the fact that I just decide to finish at 16 because I am tired of writing what I am thankful for.
16. I am thankful for the wonderful group of people in my life, they are truly the best of all. Thanks guys.

A wise friend once told me that Thanksgiving is her favorite holiday, because it doesn't involve presents or costumes. I couldn't agree more.

I'm off to write and then cook for just the people in my house. This is great because there is no pressure to clean and make everything look nice.  Everyone gets paper towels for napkins.

Then, we all go to the movies. We're going to see the new Hunger Games movie. And here is another thing I am thankful for

17. I am thankful that the kids are older, which means that we don't have to see stupid kid movies for our annual family Thanksgiving movie night. Nothing says family like flaming corpses and ritual government endorsed murder, right?

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Friday, November 22, 2013

A Wild Friday Night

I just looked and saw that  I have not posted since the first of this month.


I'm busy with life things and also participating in NaNoWriMo. Did I mention that?


I am actually on here stalling instead of writing what I am supposed to be writing.

I need to get off my ass, today is a short day at the kids school. Tonight, I get to bring the kids back to school for "Family Movie Night"

Because we want decent seating, we have to go and watch the first movie as well as the second.

They are playing Disney's "Planes" at 5, followed by "Monsters University" at 7.

I'm Ok with "Monster's University" I saw "Monster's Inc." and it was Ok, not bad.

But "Planes".

 God help me.

I can honestly say without shame or hesitation, that I would prefer to sit quietly and watch a chimpanzee masturbate for two hours than sit through that fucking movie.

And yet, off I will go, to get that good seating.

The things I do for those damn children.

Friday, November 01, 2013

October Re-Cap

I cab't say that I am really glad that October is finally over, but I kind of am.

I got it all done.

We went o Salem at the beginning of the month. Salem is where we learned, thanks to the government shutting down, that a Port O John can be a free, instant mood lifter for any group of children you may be traveling with.

The public restroom were closed in the visitors center, but the city of Salem kindly provided these San O Cans.

We had the kids take a peek in there and it was uphill for the rest of the time

I wish I had captured the screams of disgust and laughter but this will have to do.

We visited Burial Point and did part of a cemetery tour that I had in a book of historic burial grounds..

The kids got bored quick. A cemetery is no Port O John after all..

Cute Little Buggers...

I managed to pick apples and pumpkins earlier this week. I also was able to take a few shot of one of my favorite places to look at in the Fall. 

Lucky for me it's right down the street from my house.

I love the way the light turns red because of the leaves.

On Halloween day, I let the kids play hooky from school. We went out to the bookstore and went to the coffee shop for treats. 

After that, in true "Mommy sweatshop" style, I chained myself to the table and finished sewing costumes and then carved 6 pumpkins. 

We had fun, but the kids were so amped up on holiday anticipation and candy, that they would not stop talking in loud outside voices all day. 

I am considering the idea of making absolute sure that I am finished with all Halloween pumpkin and costume tasks BEFORE the big day. Then I can spend Halloween day in quiet meditation so I may build my strength up for the evenings activities. 

Right around 4, it started to drizzle. The kids began to worry that they couldn't go Trick Or Treating.

I told them to have some faith. Halloween Magic would come through for us. 

Evidently it did!

I felt so elegant when my MuMu flowed in the breeze..

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Water Bottle

B hates all of my favorite things.

He hates my big leather messenger bag (he was the one who bought it for me) claiming that it bent the coat hook I hung it on every day.

He hates the insulated water bottle I take with me to work. I always leave it overnight so I have cold water to take my pill with.

I know, it's just as easy to fill a glass but's not.

He is a very meticulous man who has a place for everything. He is the anti-hoarder.

It is a good thing because I was on my way to being on that show when we met.

B taught me the wonder of empty space.

He hates that I leave my things in a different place each time.

I try to explain that every item I have has more than one special place, and part of the fun is trying to remember which special place I chose this time.

I also say a good place to put things is up his ass.

Sunday evening he went on another "complain about the damn water bottle again"

It's a very nice water bottle from Kleen Kanteen. It keeps ice from melting for hours.

I told him that I figured out exactly what I will do with his body after he dies.

I told him he will be creamated. His ashes interred in that very same water bottle.

I will then leave it in a different spot every day and forget which spot.

I love that guy.

Saturday, October 19, 2013


11 years ago today..

To celebrate our wedding anniversary I will be doing the following:

I'm going to take all of the regular music off B's Ipod and load it with all manner of love songs from the 80's and a few from the 70's.

Songs from the Soundtrack to Xanadu, REO Speedwagon, Asia, and ABBA, will figure prominently, as well as a number of other hits.

B will be so surprised when he gets in the car today and finds out what I have done.

It's even better because he has no idea how to work an Ipod.

I will go to work for 16 hours and leave him with the kids. He will have to take them to a Harvest festival and drop G off at a sleepover.

Tomorrow, we will go to a banquet for the RI Beekeepers, where B gets to listen to people drone on and on (get it? DRONE on..ha) about all manner of bee related things.

I have a scoring system in regards to B. It will decide in years ahead, who will change B's diapers when he needs them.

It's either me, his loving wife, in the privacy of our lovely home. Or Barry, the surly orderly with chapped hands, over at the nursing care facility.

At the moment, it's looking pretty good for him.

So far.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

I'm Still Not 40

Hi gang..

It's been awhile I know..

First it was my back, then it was a cold and last of all, a weekend of bad eating caught up with me Montezuma-style.

But here I am, popping in for a moment.

I have this plan where I get my house in order over the next week, then dedicate my October to finishing my "Really Long Story" and making Halloween costumes.

After that, I will be in fighting shape for National Novel Writing Month.

Oh yeah, and I have to make apple butter, finish my nephew's birthday quilt (his birthday was in May) and make sauerkraut.

And run a household, raise them damn kids, and that newsletter that I like to send out (don't forget to sign up- Random Shit and Meditations for The Mildly Irreverent)

I can do it. Maybe.

One of the big reasons why I have been so desperate to get on here lately, although life keeps getting in the way, is because I looked at the calendar and just had to point something out to a lot of people.

Growing up and being the youngest in a large group of friends can be very difficult at times.

I was the last to turn 16, which meant I had to scramble for fake ID's whenever we wanted to go to a punk rock show in NYC.

Getting a boyfriend was hell, being jailbait for what seemed like forever.

I was the last to turn 21, which meant sneaking into bars. Thankfully the place I grew up in had a lot of all ages shows.

Everyone was solidly in or just getting out of puberty, so my "budding breasts" where often pointed out.

Yep, they called me "Bud"..

I could go on for a long time about how much being the youngest sucked.

But here I am, finally reaping the benefits of being the youngest of you all.

Because I'm still not yet 40..In six months I will be, but then, I will still be farther away from 50 than the rest of you!

Ok that felt good! I've been waiting for years for that... I know pathetic, but when you are the youngest,  you treasure these opportunities.

Ok, back to my hot water bottle, my arthritis is acting up..

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Notes From The Can

I went to use the bathroom and took my laptop with me.

I was in the middle of a conversation.

Realizing the time, I had to quickly finish (sorry..gross..I know) and smuggle the computer back downstairs without B noticing.

He was still in bed but has flashes on consciousness at this time.

I don't know what would be worse,

the fact that I was using the computer on the can

or the explanation that I was in the middle of a very important conversation with my best friend and her daughter.

About public masturbation in Sweden and the notorious Swedish bicycle fucker who is on the loose.

Luckily I was as sneaky as that wacky Swede and made it out and back downstairs with B none the wiser..

Ok. That's my story. Thanks

Friday, September 13, 2013

Even More Shit

Have I ever told you about the old friend of mine who is deathly afraid of vomit?

I mean deathly afraid. Phobic.

The poor woman, everywhere she went, people were puking. It's true. Everywhere. Even on airplanes.

I don't know about you, but I have never had a person vomit on a plane near me. Happened to her all the time.

And it's crazy, because I went out with her one night and we were surrounded by people either about to vomit or in the act of.

For me it's shit. I am surrounded by all types of fecal matter on any given occasion.

Instead of being afraid of it, I just embrace it. (No, no not literally-gross, people c'mon!)

In my line of work, at home, everywhere.

This Saturday, I stepped in it in my bathroom. It wasn't me.

I went on to discover that one of my progeny had sharted and just left it.

Gotta love the 1 AM shower and sheet change.

I went into hysterical laughter in bed afterward  over the word "shart" and later at Sunday dinner gazing at one of my other children, thinking of how mad they would be if they knew that their sibling had sharted in their bed.

Last night, I came home from picking B up from a work dinner.

I hobbled into the house (remember my back-doing much better thanks!) and was greeted by one of the kids (who will remain unnamed-you can probably figure out who it was, I'm sure)

The child ran up and called my name excitedly.

Suddenly both of our eyes were drawn to a small brown pebble that seemed to have tumbled from out of nowhere.

I said, "Is that a dog kibble?"

The child screamed, snatched it up and ran for the bathroom.

I shook my head sadly and said, "Gross."

You can't just make this shit up, ya know?

Thursday, September 12, 2013

My Ass Is Killing Me

I am happy to help out my friends and neighbors with rides and childcare. It makes my life easier as the kids are less demanding of my attention when there is a friend around.

I like to help people and for the most part, I never truly expect any repayment. I like to do things for the sake of doing them.

But in light of what happened yesterday, I may have to call in a couple of "you owe me's"

Ya'll are going to have to come and toilet me while B is at work.

Well, it's almost that bad.

I was working the bees for this woman. It's a nice little side job, I like getting paid to do something I love.

I was picking up a box and twisted wrong.

The thing that sucks is that when you are in the middle of it, you can't stop. You absolutely have to put the whole thing back together and be finished.

My lower back is a writhing mass of discomfort, with pain shooting down my leg and my arthritic hip chiming in to boot.

Happily, after completing that last inspection, all three hives I look after are all ready for Winter.

Everyone is looking good, and it's been a good year for me, although the season started on a very crappy note.

No more lifting heavy boxes of stinging insects.

 With the exception of a possible move of my smaller hive to my home.

 B can do the lifting if we go through with it.

(crossing my fingers fervently)

Hopefully I can try to rest and get better.

I hear that bee stings are good for muscle aches.

I am considering taking a trip out and dropping my drawers in front of a hive in the hope that a bee will oblige me.

Friday, August 30, 2013

What the Hell!?

Walking the kids home from school with a friend.

We hear a loud pop.

G is looking at whatever it was on the sidewalk.

It is a condom with what looked like a silver wire stuck through it.

I have no idea what in the hell is going on or how it got there. No clue.

G and the other kids are looking closely at it and asking what it is.

We say, "It's just a balloon."

and try not to let the kids hear us laughing quietly as we walk away.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Role Models

"The Syrians better not mess with vaginas." was the comment that brought me quickly out of my listless daydreaming.

The morning spent running errands with Horst was putting me in danger of losing my post vacation/first day of school glow.

"What did you say?" I asked in alarm. "Mess with what?"

"China, mess with China."

"Oh, Ok."

I giggled to myself. The morning with Horst had been really getting to me. We went to BJ's and since we got into to the car he had been running a constant commentary about various products at BJ's, his job (of course giving me absolutely no frame of reference so I had to continually ask what he was talking about), Martin Luther King Jr and his personal opinion on racial issues and now Syria.

I should know better than to listen to NPR in the car with him I guess.

Thinking for a moment that my father said "vagina" certainly lightened my mood though.

I think the only thing that he didn't mention was that whole Miley Cyrus "twerking" thing (snore).

I will say for the record that I do care about what happens in Syria. I worry about what's going to happen. I have been following that and had no idea what happened at the VMA's nor really cared until I was bombarded by photos of Miley Cyrus's ass, trying desperately to escape out of the sides of her tight rubber panties.

I could care less. I have seen worse. My friends that accompanied me to that Genitorturer's show years ago know what I'm talking about. If you saw what I saw that night.....Nothing fazes me now.

My kids have never watched Hannah Montana and I would be surprised if they had any desire to watch the VMA's . If they saw her antics, they would probably have said, "Ew." and moved on.

What about that guy? The one rubbing her ass with his crotch? Is anyone giving him crap?

But honestly, whatever.. I know that a lot of people were upset because she is supposed to be some sort of role model for young girls and shouldn't be acting like this.

In my house, no joke, Hannah Montana is a euphemism for having to take a crap.

As in, "Be right back, I gotta go Hannah Montana!"

I did that on purpose.

I have always disliked her and worked very hard with G and V to make sure that I didn't have to watch her show or listen to her music.. (We also would have to take a "Big Time Rush" from time to time as well.)

But I was curious, I wondered who my daughter's female role models were, so I asked her who they were.

Her response was:

Katniss Everdeen-The girl runs around shooting a bow and arrow and becomes the symbol that brings down an oppressive government-I'll take it.

Adele-She writes her own songs and doesn't give a shit about what the celebrity hamster wheel thinks of her body-Ok good.

Heather Toupin-One of my best friends and one of the awesomest people alive-I'm pretty damn psyched.

Me-Holy Shit-does it get any better than that?

I must be doing something right.

Saturday, August 10, 2013


I am typing from an IPod so bear with me.

 I am at work and should be working.

But I've been working and decided to enjoy a short break..

Ok human resources?

Today, a newspaper article told me that a plane flew into a house. Two children, in addition to the plane's passengers, are feared dead.

Shark week on The Discovery Channel showed me all of the horrible things that a shark can do to various parts of your body. (Beach vacation starts next week..great)

Some kid named Chandler, as a part of a public service announcement on the radio, told me about the time he was texting while driving and plowed into a group of small children.

If anyone needs me, I'll be hiding, with my children, in our bathtub, which I will be filling with packing peanuts, covered with a mattress.

After I carefully strap on everyone's crash helmets.

You can never be too safe.

Tuesday, August 06, 2013

Been Awhile

I have been on hiatus.

I didn't mean to be, but Summer is such a crazy time. Between wrangling the children, a large garden, a job, a house, 2 beehives that are sadly 20 miles away and another beehive that I am being paid to care for, I am swamped.

Did I forget running a household? Yeah that too.  I've also been catching up on Doctor Who episodes and reading a lot.

 It is morning,  the kids had a sleepover last night. I had to get up at around 2 to tell them to stop talking and go to sleep.

For some ridiculous reason it is not quite 8 am and they are awake. Jerks.

I have to go and take the car in and get my daughters ears pierced. Before I go, for lack of anything else to say, I will leave you with my reading list so far this year.

Maybe you can find something on there to read at the beach.

Neverwhere **
Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrel **
Stranger Things Happen
Water For Elephants **
Empire Falls **
Anansi Boys **
Happily Ever After **
A Gift of Dragons
The Ladies Of Grace Adieu
The War of Art **
Under The Dome
The Ocean At The End Of The Lane **
The Golem and The Jinni **
The Still Point of the Turning World
The Gate Thief
Clan of the Cave Bear
Eat to Live
NOS4A2 **

Anything I asterisked is highly recommended.

I can't write anymore. My kids are making breakfast, spilling milk and slurping loudly.

I'll try to be back tomorrow, pinky swear.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Hot Dog! or, Bad Parenting 101

This morning I was relieved to find that the temperature had dropped significantly.

I dislike summer intensely, mainly because of the heat. The heat, the sun, the drastic change in my schedule leaves me completely discombobulated.

It funny how despite hating summer, most of my hobbies, the beekeeping and the gardening, are most involved in the summer and require me to be outside in the heat.

I mentioned to G today that I should take up more Winter friendly hobbies, like hunting or ice sculpture.

I had been stressed out about this day for the entire week, but happily, it is behind me and in the end, it wasn't so bad.

I had a feeling it was going to be a good day when I woke up to the cooler cloudy weather. I was assured that it was going to be a good day after finding this totally awesome tidbit on Twitter.

It seems that the day Anthony Weiner had the press conference about incriminating pictures of his ding dong, was also National Hot Dog Day!!

I just love love love the way the Universe works. I'm so glad that it shared with me via Twitter. It truly made my day.

So now I'm winding down my pretty good day watching the BBC Sherlock with the kids. They love it. It's racy at times, but they do fine with it.

However, because of this show, I was posed with the rather uncomfortable task of telling the kids what a Dominatrix is.

I did it in the simplest, most abbreviated way. I forbade the children from sharing the info with their friends-they are good for this, which is why I answer their questions as truthfully as possible, while keeping in mind what they can or cannot handle.

I told them that a Dominatrix is a grownup that spanks other grownups for money.

So now for the past several hours, V has been sneaking up behind me, smacking my ass and demanding money.

I guess there could be worse professions.

Sunday, July 21, 2013


I always do this to make my children laugh.

I did it again the other day while walking through the parking lot of Whole Foods.

A man passing by saw me do this to the kids and looked at me like I was the devil.

What the average passerby doesn't seem to grasp, is that when I threaten my children with bodily harm,

with colorful words or gestures,

What I am actually saying to them is,

"I love you and I think you're swell."

Saturday, July 20, 2013


Summer is crazy.

With the heat and carting kids around in the heat, working, cleaning, doing laundry, trying to organize my goddamn house for once in the heat, walking the dog and tending the bees in the heat, trying to write and garden in the heat and last but not least, wishing this heat would break, while in the heat, I looked up and saw it's been weeks since I last posted.

I've been busy and hot.

I'm actually off for the Saturday marathon shift at work in less than an hour.

So here is all I got for the moment-

I had dreams last night of cockroaches and earwigs swarming out of a muffin that I was about to eat. The rest of the dream consisted of me, trying to kill the vermin with a wad of paper towels.

This probably stems from finding a pair of live and very frisky earwigs in my peach yesterday, and maybe the 5 flies I found in my pho the other day.

Not to mention the battle Horst and I had at 11 pm last night in my basement with a nest of tiny red ants.

Is it fucking Fall yet?

Thursday, July 04, 2013

Concert Ed

This is one of my favorite July 4th memories,  alongside the time G slammed V's fingers in a door and when an anonymous person left a corn infused pile of diarrhea along with the napkin they wiped themselves with, in my driveway.

I asked my friend Karen, who is standing in the front of this photo, if she had any photos of Concert Ed, so that I could write a post about him for the Fourth of July.

She kindly obliged me.

Even better, she sent me a picture of Concert Ed at the Bristol 4th of July Parade, which took place a mere 10 hours before our story begins.

There's Concert Ed, middle right, in the blue shirt, holding up his fist in solidarity. Definitely holding a beer.

And look, there's a 17 year old me, to the left of Ed, in front of the shirtless guy, (another Ed, I believe) wearing sunglasses. I have my mouth open.

Damn we look young.

I think of Concert Ed every 4th of July.

I imagine that there has to be another version of this story somewhere in the dark dank recesses of my old MySpace account.

I know I mention the anniversary of my Concert Ed experience every 4th.

I'm going to take it for another spin if you don't mind.

I used to live in Bristol when I was 17ish. I lived a mere 2 blocks off the parade route, in downtown Bristol.

Of course on the 4th, we hosted a big party the night before the parade.

I vaguely remember a person with poor hygiene, who shall not be named, who was a rather obnoxious drunk, pass out on our floor at this party.

Obnoxious drunks did not get safe passage in that house.

He got written on with sharpie and had the entire contents of our refrigerators condiment section poured on him.

I think he got stripped as well, his clothes thrown outside or something.

His name, nor the state of his underwear shall not be discussed.

Brutal teenagers we were.

But hey, he was pretty obnoxious and obnoxious drunks never received safe passage.

Ed, the guy with no shirt in the picture, brought Concert Ed.

I know nothing about Concert Ed, except that he was a bit crazy and I think he was either a veteran or an ex-hippie type who took WAY too many drugs and never totally came back.

Also, you could pay him to do a "concert" at your party, hence the name, "Concert Ed".

He would come with milk crates full of records and a record player. He would also bring a spinner and have people at the party spin this spinner.

 If you got a 7, he would select the seventh record in crate seven and play the seventh song, or something like that. I cannot remember the exact formula.

He would sit, surrounded by his milk crates and play air drums to every song and sing to himself.

I remember going to only 1 of his "concerts".

 I fell asleep before the grand finale, where he got all wound up and started yelling and Sig Heiling, during Simon and Garfunkles "The Boxer".

I also think of Ed whenever I hear that song.

(I will add that I received safe passage that evening and did not get written on or sauced with condiments while I slept. I was lucky like that. I am also a very light sleeper.)

So, yes, the party the night before the 4th and there is the picture of the Bristol parade. We are smiling and look quite happy, but I can assure you that we were all pretty hung over and probably quite sweaty and gross.

But who doesn't love a parade?

I had to work that day. I took a bus to work in Newport later on in the afternoon.

Downtown Bristol pretty much shuts down for the 4th. No buses come through, so after the parade, I hiked down to the bridge and caught the bus to work.

Later that night, Horst drove me home. As we pulled in the driveway, I saw that the back door was slightly ajar.

I saw a person's head low to the ground in that doorway.

I became alarmed, as that particular doorway led right into my bedroom.

My bed was placed exactly where that grizzled looking head was resting.

On a side note-parents-If you were dropping off your teenage daughter at her house and the door to her house was open a crack showing that an old man was sleeping in her bed, you'd ask questions, right?

You'd probably go in and kick that guy out or maybe make her come back home with you, right?

Ah, Horst...  He dropped me off, no questions asked.

 I raced to the carnival, which was also right next to our house. I located my roommate and some other friends and posed them with this question:

"What's Concert Ed doing in my bed?"

To which they had no answer.

I angrily marched back to my house, went in my room and demanded that he get up and get out, thinking that I was going to have to throw the bed out, boil it or perhaps run a flame thrower over the top of it in order to sleep in it again.

Concert Ed began to wake up, slowly, he was obviously still drunk.

And then,

Concert Ed began to puke in my bed.

As I was screaming in horror (as a teenager I was a screamer, as are most teenage girls, I suspect)

I heard him moan something about taking a lot of aspirin and somebody giving him bad water.

Concert Ed puked in my bed. Several times, in fact.

There is a poem in there somewhere, maybe for next 4th of July or even later today.

What's more to say than that?

I was enraged, my friend dragged me into the bathroom and locked us in before I could murder him.

Some other very thoughtful friends cleaned my bed.

 The rest is history.

I never saw Concert Ed after that night. Probably for the best.

Every year, when everyone starts to break out the red white and blue decorations and plan for the barbecue.  I remember Concert Ed.

Independence Day. The anniversary of our country and the time that Concert Ed puked in my bed.

Happy Fourth!

Wednesday, July 03, 2013


It's been hard to get back into the swing of things and write again.

I have so much writing to do. It's July, so I am participating in Camp NaNoWriMo.

My goal is to finally finish that pesky story I have been working on for the past year.

I also have that newsletter (that you should sign up for, if you haven't already, here) or you can just be lazy and go look on the Facebook page..Yeah thanks..

Then I like to write here as much as possible.

Last week I was on vacation in New Jersey. There is no WiFi at my mother in law's house, so I took a technology break.

It was fun. The weather was hot, but we had central air and went to the beach every day.

At the beach I learned that a sand crabs ass is actually it's face and it's face is actually it's ass.

They just crawl/swim/dig backwards.

Ass on the left, face on the right.

Realizing that they had cute little faces with eye stalks endeared me to them. I spent much of my time squatting at the water's edge digging for them.

I made it to the Glimmer Glass on Sunday, the night of the Super Moon-to see the horseshoe crabs mating. 

We only saw 3 pairs swimming in the water, there was a lot of mosquitos, but the moon on the water was very pretty. 

Just to say that I went to the Glimmer Glass to see the Super Moon was magic in itself.
My camera sucks, but here is a shot

Crappy camera..Crappy photographer. But it was very pretty.

I also had 2 more lumps removed right before vacation. They look like little mouths on the side of my arm. 

I drew little eyes and named them.

Again, not the best photo, but here they are, the top one is named Skidoozer, the Ambivalent Arm Muppet, the bottom is Skeeter, the Disgruntled Arm Muppet.

Wanna freak out and embarrass your children? Make your surgical scars talk to them. Good times. Good times.

So enough about crabs and arm muppets. 

My whole point of writing this was to talk about the difficulty of writing while being in a house full of people. Namely children, who are currently out of school and addicted to various internet games. 

I will also add there is 1 working computer for 5 people.

We came home from vacation and are now in a holding pattern until next week, when V & G go to art camp for 2 weeks and to comic club for another 2. 

This will give me much more writing time, I hope. 

 In this family it is asking A LOT to sit and write undisturbed for 10 minutes. 

I can't even go to the bathroom undisturbed.   

My family, all of them, are specially programmed to bother me at the most inopportune moments. 

If I have to start dinner, at least one, if not 2, people suddenly appear in the kitchen and engage in a carefully choreagraphed ballet where they place them selves exactly where I need or want to be, precisely 2 seconds before I get there. 

I sit on the toilet, at least one if not 2 other people suddenly feel the urge and get up to follow me in. If the door is unlocked, they stand in there waiting and ask me if I'm finished yet. 

If the door has a lock? 

Within minutes, the line outside the door resembles the line outside of a WalMart before it opens on Black Friday. 

I sit to write? 

Someone needs breakfast, a lost thing, immediate medical attention or Horst's specialty, a very silly story with no point that I was better off never knowing in the first place. 

So, I try to get up before everyone else and get what I need to get done, done. 

I tell the kids I need an hour and shut my bedroom door.

 I try to ignore the sounds of fighting and do not get up unless I hear the splash of blood or vomit.

I am looking forward to this coming Monday, when the house is clear of people for a few hours.

I can write alone, I can go to the bathroom alone. 

But then again..

Yes. I am sitting on the toilet.

I am never truly alone.

Saturday, June 29, 2013

I'm back

It's nice to come home from vacation. And really shitty at the same time.

It was a good one. We went to the beach every day. Although there was a heat wave, we stayed in a house with central air.

I do have a lot to write about, but my 16 hour shift looms ahead.

The shitty part of vacation is going back to work. Especially when you are going through one of those cycles where you despise your job.

I have been through these cycles a million times and I know that I get through them and on the other side, I am fairly content.

But for now.."Fuck this" I think to myself as I haul myself off to the shower.

Wooo..I'm back..See you tomorrow, right?

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

In a Pickle

Sorry I haven't been around, but it is June.

School ends on the 21st and then comes a trip to the Shore.

Things will be much calmer after Friday.

I feel bad, and I hope my brother doesn't mind yet another one. I know he reads this from time to time.

But having Horst coming up first thing in the morning clad in short spandex asking me to go out to buy him a jar of pickles,

and the subsequent argument because he wouldn't specify the type of pickle I had to buy,

was just too funny not to share.

Have a terrific day!

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Happy Father's Day!

One time, B was asked by somebody what he was going to get me for Mother's day.

He replied, "She's not my mother."

So I take that point of view right into Father's Day.

B gets nuthin from me. I make the kids make him cards.

But I did start a tradition last year, which is to bring him a cup of coffee in bed, then the kids and I climb into bed with him and make him watch this on the computer.

I am so, so disappointed that they no longer have the whole cartoon on you tube.

So here are two clips from the cartoon. Better than nothing I guess..

Happy Father's Day!

Monday, June 10, 2013

And Then There Were 5

I am not looking forward to picking my kids up from school today.

I took the kids last night for a nature walk on the Parkway next to my house.

I took V and then he was picked up by B who drove by to drop off G who had just come back from  a friend's house and wanted to join us in our search for ducklings.

Thankfully B showed up as V desperately needed to pee and we were thinking of scouting for an outside spot by that time.

With V, I spotted several green frogs and a pair of cedar waxwings.

With G, we spotted the frogs I saw before, 2 muskrats, a lone male duck and a fucking squirrel.

Don't you hate when you hear a rustle in the trees or bushes, you get all excited as to what it may be making those noises,

and there's the fucking squirrel with a look in it's beady eyes that says, "What?"

The best of all, we saw a mother ducks and her terribly, horribly and unbearably adorable babies

Here is a little video we took.

Last night, 6 ducklings were with their mother. 

This morning, I checked on them after walking the kids to school and there were 5. 

I looked around for #6, but there was no sign. 

I know how nature is. I know why ducks and other animals have so many babies, but it still made me sad.

I wished for a moment that places like the Parkway had benevolent spirits or creatures that looked out for little ducklings. 

But no, they are stuck trying to survive with a small blunt nosed mother to protect them and good camouflage. 

And a bit of luck I suppose. 

Both G and V are well versed in the ugly side of nature and death. They have had family members and pets die, they know in detail how animals are killed and processed before they hit the table. 

G wants to be a falconer someday..

But a missing little duckling is certainly not going to go over well. 

I hope the little guy just got lost.

Sunday, June 09, 2013

A Brief Rant

I don't care who you are.

I don't care if you have saved 50 thousand Romanian orphans from a life of poverty and prostitution.

I don't care if you are Jesus, come back to Earth to save us all. Or The Dali Llama.

I don't care if you are the nicest, most considerate, best, best, best person in the whole wide world.

If you are a person who wears perfume for any sort of engagement that takes place in a small auditorium,

You are an asshole.

I went to G's ballet recital, and I was strategically placed in such a way, that I was surrounded by women wearing too much perfume.

I am allergic to most synthetic perfumes. Not to the point of anaphylaxis, but my eyes start to burn, my skin starts to itch and my nose plugs up.

I watched the first part of the performance with a piece of my collar up around my nose.

G's friend Iz, cruel child, wouldn't let me hold the stuffed animal she brought, up to my face as a makeshift air filter.

Happily, I received a paper towel along with the bouquet of flowers that I got for G during intermission.

I held that up to my face for the rest of the performance.

Next time I'll take an allergy pill before I go anywhere like that.

Or better yet,

I have this little pipe dream I entertained myself with during the worst of it. 

Keeping a gas mask in my purse for such moments and wearing it when needed, in the most nonchalant manner possible.

It will most likely never happen, but it gave some humor to a very uncomfortable situation.

The little girl who made G cry at ballet camp last year, screwed up on stage. I grinned hugely behind my wad of paper towels. 

See, it wasn't all bad.

Friday, June 07, 2013

Private Area

I am officially on the home stretch. I survived Special Olympics. I survived the dinner dance. Now it's on to ballet mayhem.

I will be sitting outside of a ballet studio for the next 2 days, actually for 1 more day. Then there is the recital. Then done.

I have made plans for V during this time.

Tonight he goes to a friend's house to play Dragon Age-aka Dungeons and Dragons. I love how my heart sings when I write that. I love how B's heart sinks a little when it's even mentioned.

My geek genes totally kicked the ass of his athletic genes. (The ones he claims to have-he is not that sporty-but likes to watch sports)

Saturday evening he goes to sleepover at his friend N's house. N is a girl. V has already stated to me on many occasions, that he is going to marry N.

Honestly, I know it's a little early in the game, but I do hope that happens. N is lovely, as are her parents, so it totally works for me.

We were on our way to get his allergy shots last night. In the car, he was talking about what he was going to bring to N's house for the sleepover.

He mentioned that he couldn't wait to show N his private area.

After I gained control of the car, which had swerved into oncoming traffic for a moment, I said breathlessly, with a large knot in my gut,

"What do you mean by private area?"

"It's a Port O John I built in MineCraft. It where I keep my diamonds."

I was relieved that his private area wasn't his private area-but still, what a weirdo.

Tuesday, June 04, 2013

Bye Lump

I had a greasy yellow lump excised from my right calf today.

The surgeon showed me-it was pretty gross.

I also learned something.

I learned that if you have the right insurance, and a large amount of greasy yellow tumors beneath your skin, having them removed can be as addictive as chocolate cake or getting another tattoo.

I went there to remove one and made plans to have 3 more removed from my forearm.

I don't know if I am giddy from excitement or from my body's reaction to being cut open.

It went well and I am well.

It has been a pretty good day.

I walked the kids to school along with a bunch of other kids and 2 friends.

I harvested a shit load of chamomile, which I will hang to dry before my numbing medication wears off.

and I just finished eating a homemade German chocolate cupcake.

Not too bad for this week.

Monday, June 03, 2013

Plan K

G asked me yesterday which I preferred; Plan A, Plan B, or Plan C.

We were driving back from the new bee spot. I was disappointed because when I arrived, I saw my host family out in the pool and from where I was parked-they looked to be having a very good time.

I didn't want to bust in and say, "Hey, I 'm about to open the beehives so watch out!' I decided to leave and come back another time.

It was poor planning on my part. Next time I will call ahead and have a specific time.

It has been an awful week. The past three weeks have been pretty awful. I know they could have been far worse-but they sucked mightily.

I am hoping that it will be ending. As they say, bad things happen in threes, so I am hoping for a better week.

Not that the week ended all that bad, in spite of not being able to go check the bees.

The weekend was good, thankfully. Exhausting, but good.

So I was sitting there with G, who was waiting for an answer.

My response was, "I always prefer Plan A, because that is my first choice. Plan B is usually fine and Plan C is usually somewhat acceptable. Unfortunately, I have been having to go with Plan K lately. Plan K usually sucks in some way."

I am thinking that I may need to start making better Plan A's, never mind B and C.

Just something that I think I will be meditating on for awhile.

And while you are out there-do a sun dance for me-I need to get into those beehives.

Sunday, June 02, 2013

I'm Ok With The Asteroid 1

Sometimes I will see something or read something and find myself looking at the rest of humanity with disgust and disappointment.

If you were to run up to me at that moment and exclaim that an asteroid was coming right now to destroy the planet, I would nod my head and say, "Yup, that seems like a great idea."

Despite having kids and many loved ones, despite loving so many things about my life and this world, at these moments, I would be totally Ok with the asteroid.

This almost always happens when I am in Walmart.

 I read an article in National Geographic this week that made me wish for that asteroid.

It was about the trash problem on Mount Everest, of all places. 

It has become quite the thing to do, to climb Mount Everest. There are companies that will bring any asshole up to the peak, with or without experience. 

While there are many decent and serious climbers and companies that take people up, there are plenty  who are not. 

The mountain is now littered with the bodies of climbers who didn't make it, trash and piles of human excrement.

I'm assuming that due to extreme weather conditions, you can't just send a Port O John up the mountain, nor some person with a spiked stick and a bag.

You'd think that if you went through all the trouble and expense to get up the mountain, you would at least be respectful and clean up after yourself.

 But no. 

Mount Everest, also called Holy Mother by it's indigenous people, has a problem with people shitting all over it.

 I think of all the shit and trash on other smaller, less well known mountains.

Then I think of the trash blowing down my street and all over the Parkway.

Then I say, "I'm Ok with the asteroid."

A chance of a lifetime, to scale the highest peak in the world. Admire the breath taking views and vistas. Feel the accomplishment of a lifetime. Just be careful you don't step in shit.

Saturday, June 01, 2013

One More Week

One more week and I will be officially finished with end of the year kid business.

Yesterday was Special Olympics, Wednesday I have to get Lyd ready for a dance and then next weekend is all about G's ballet recital.

Then I can breathe a short sigh of relief before I am stuck with them 24-7 for 2 months.

I have much to do before I have to go to work at 8 but I wanted to share a Von-ism to make your weekend a little more cheerful.

On the way back from Special Olympics yesterday (I had to drive back and forth to URI twice in a day) V and G were talking to me about their middle school plans.

G is hopefully going to get into a gifted program at an area school. I am working on the application and keeping my fingers crossed.

If she doesn't make it, it's off to Catholic school.

V has been struggling with maintaining focus while he is in class. Suddenly a lightbulb went off above my head.

"Hey V, you know if you don't do well in school and can't get into the gifted program" (btw, V is scary smart, his only problem is that he only tries when he feels like it), "You'll have to go to Catholic school, where they make you go to Mass every day."

V's very colorful response was, "Fuck that shit!"

I began to compose a letter to Father Augustine-the head priest about V's response out loud in the car to the kids.

"Dear Father Augustine,
We informed V today that he may have to attend your school. V's response was "Fuck that shit.". We thought you would like to know first hand V's feelings about your church and attached school.

V was in the back seat yelling, "No Mom don't write the letter!"

Have I told you about what I do to him when we pass the nun that walks on our Parkway frequently? I slow the car down and make to open my window and tell him I'm going to tell the sister what he said whenever. (I've said before about his vocabulary).

Nothing like V-baiting-he gives the best reactions.

I felt victorious-no threat of taking away electronics or TV, beats the threat of daily Mass attendance.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

A Happy Day Dream

Good God it's been a hell of a week. I'm trying to find my stride again and it has not been easy at all.

But I am working on it.

I was driving to pick B up from work this morning, so he could use the car, when I saw an old woman out walking her tiny Yorkshire Terrier.

No bag in hand. The little thing could shit anywhere. Looked like it was going to.

A lot of people walk their small dogs on the Parkway near my house.

As I go out with Gus, I notice tiny piles of dog shit everywhere.

I think that many people who own these dogs think that their dog's shit is so small it will just go unnoticed.

No, no it does not.

I had a woman across the street who let her dog shit in my driveway all winter long.

It sucked having to shovel not just mounds of snow, but also alien dog crap.

I can pick up my dogs crap all the livelong day without batting an eyelash, but not other dog's crap.

 Just gross..Ew.

The woman stopped after I posted a sign stating that I would find out who the offender is and then call the police.

B called me a crazy sign poster, but it worked for a week or so.

The very day it came down, I was driving back from dropping the kids off, when I saw the little dog run out of my driveway and back to that lady's house.

I went there and told her that if I caught her dog there again, I would call the cops.

So after that day, I would watch her let the damn dog shit in the neighbor's front yard.

After seeing the bag-less lady with the Yorkie, I entertained myself for the rest of the ride by imagining a special place in the Afterlife for such people.

An immaculate house and yard, populated by numerous Great Danes with intestinal distress.

The head demon demands, in a rather violent and frightening way, that the place be kept spotless.

 But there is nary a paper towel or baggie to be found.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Breathing Again

The bees are safely tucked away in the woods of Foster.

The move went well and was far easier than I imagined and had nightmares about.

It is over for now, they are where they need to be, although I already miss them. When I was feeling out of sorts, I would go there for a few minutes and sit by the beehives.

It's now a 35 minute drive, but if things are bad, I'm sure the ride up and the visit will be just as good.

It has been a really shitty 2 weeks, between bee drama and regular life. Now it is done.

Thank god.

I had something funny that I wanted to write about, but then promptly forgot it.

Speaking of forgetting, don't forget the newsletter!

We're still doing it and would love you to sign up: Newsletter Sign Up- it will take 1 minute and you might get a laugh.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Moving Day

Moving day is officially upon us.

On Friday, I closed all the upper entrances of the hives and added an entrance reducer to Cabbage Hive.

It was sad, they were very docile when I did it.

 Allow me to anthropomorphize for a moment and say, "Ahhh, it was like they knew it was time to go and didn't fight me!"

No, I know.

Last night, B, whom I will refer to from now on as "Poor Long Suffering B" (PLSB) went with me after dark to plug all the openings.

There is give and take with marriage. I put up with his hockey related psychosis once a year and he helps me with ninja bee missions.

I had to sneak out from work for a half hour after the sun set, to plug up the openings.

 I contemplated bringing my axe with me for personal protection, saw myself swinging wildly at the hoodlums my stressed and paranoid imagination brought forth and decided to just call B and make him go.

It is kind of silly, seeing as how he is mortally terrified of furry nocturnal creatures that come out after dark.

We are more likely to run into those than faceless vagrants.

Well, there is the balance. I'll protect him from possums and raccoons while he protects me from my overactive brain.

Funny, I just realized that we have been doing that for each other for the past 14 years.

So, I just saw the time. It is now 6:45. I have been up since 5:45.

I brought Horst to the bus station. He is as talkative at 5:45 as he is at any other time of day.

As with any other time of day, I had no idea what the hell he was talking about.

Yes, moving day begins soon.

B (PLSB) will fetch the truck, I will gather supplies and head North with a lovely friend whom I enlisted to help me.

I am hoping that I will be able to breath again by noon today.

One more time-thanks to all those people who have been so helpful. You know who you are.

I am thinking that if I get honey this year, much of that crop will go out as thank you gifts.

You guys have definitely earned it.


 It's out to the Boondocks we go!

Friday, May 24, 2013

The Only Bad Word So Far

On the way to school this morning, I asked G what she had just said to her brother.

She replied that she told him that she was spraying herself with "loser retardant"

I was relieved.

I thought she had called her brother retarded.

I said to them that that was one of the few forbidden words in our household.

 I said they could say, "shit, fuck and asshole" to their hearts content. They could use those words in any variation they liked.

I let the kids swear. I think I have talked about this on here before. They are only allowed to do it at home or in the car, in the company of immediate family.

B and I have taught the kids that swearing is an art and a privilege, and I will say that when in the mood,  their way with those words is breathtaking

They just better not use the word retarded.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Thursday Von-ism

I have to take V to two doctor's appointments today.  To the optometrist and to the pediatrician.

After that, I have to try and teach him to ride a bike.

When G finds out he gets a whole day off of school and quality time with me, she is totally going to kick my ass.

V had been coming up with some good ones lately and since I have little time today, I thought that I would just share one and go.

The other day, I created a happy stir when I bought a bottle of coffee syrup. I think that V drank a half gallon of coffee milk in one afternoon.

V sat down at Sunday dinner with his glass of coffee milk and said, "You know, coffee milk is just like North Korea. It's isolated to one spot and nobody else knows about it."