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.

(me)

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.

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 bottle..it 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.

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!!

A Wild Friday Night

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

Dang.

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

Probably.

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.

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..

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 no..it'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.

Anniversary!

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.

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..

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

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?

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.

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.

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.

Safe

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.

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 **
Guns
Happily Ever After **
A Gift of Dragons
Wicked
The Ladies Of Grace Adieu
The War of Art **
Under The Dome
Zeitoun
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.

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.

Threat

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."

Bugs

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?

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!

Alone

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.