almost a Clausen

So remember when I told you I made pickles.
Whelp, I waited the three weeks for the cucumbers to morph into pickles. And they did.. And they're VERY edible..

They're lacking just a little bit of crunch.. I think I'll add some more alum next time.
Yes there will be a next time.

Tomorrow night is tomato canning night at my moms.. A good bottle(which translates into a cheap box) of wine and some boiling, scalding hot, tomato juice on the stove, should make for an entertaining evening.
We always have fun!!!!

Forget the book, I'm writing pet obits now.

SAMANTHA "SAM" ROLLINS
1994 - 2009

It is with deep regret that we announce that
Sam Rollins went to the great cat nip field in the sky
on July 31st 2009

Sam was adopted by her loving humans
Jack and Bev Rollins in 1994. She lived out
her years at 19 Shady Lane, enjoying the many things
that came with living in a country like setting.
Her hobbies included sitting on the screened in porch
watching the many raccoons, deer and birds that
came to visit.
She also enjoyed visiting with her special friend Magic
who stopped by on a daily basis to let her know what she
was missing by being an inside pet.
Sam was a friendly cat meeting all visitors at the door
and inspecting them to make sure they were worthy of
her time. With a little attention, everyone was welcome
with the exception of small children of which she would
hide from under beds or behind the couch.
Sam proved she was a Rollins by being slightly finicky.
She refused all human food presented to her, and would
only eat her special treats if they were given by her
male human, Jack.
She was helpful around the house. But would only help
make the bed if both of her humans participated.
She was very family oriented and would sit in her stool
at the kitchen counter and help Jack work crosswords
and read the paper.
At meal time she often lingered around the table waiting
for her humans to finish their meal before climbing up
on her Bev humans lap for an after dinner cuddle.
Sam enjoyed lounging on the backs of chairs throughout
the house. Her favorite being in the master bedroom
where she could gaze out the window and enjoy
watching nature. Unless of course there was a
thunder storm, and then she could be found hiding
Under the living room love seat.

Sam is proceeded in death by several important
family members including canine brothers, Peppy,
El Cid, Sergeant, and Jack's Yella Fella.
Canine sisters Gretchen and Bridget. And feline brothers
Spook, Simon and Cyrus.
Survivors include her humans Jack and Bev,
Human siblings Kevin (Melissa) Rollins, Kim (Jeff) Wettersten
and Kerri (Scott) Rollins. Feline step sister Snow ball.
Her human cousins, Andrew, Stefanie,
Meredith, Ryleigh, Ross and Elizabeth.
Feline cousin Tessa and canine cousin Pumpkin.

Other survivors include Aunt Sharon and Uncle Bill Burow
along with very special friend Abby Burow.
Big Jacky and Aunt Lou Klage, Don and Julie Lind, and
her many outdoor visitors including Magic.

In lieu of flowers please send cash donations of $50 or more
to Jack and Bev Rollins at 19 Shady lane.

Fermented cucumbers

One time, probably 15 years ago, I tried to make pickles..
It didn't go so well and I gave up..

But my parents have a couple different friends that make "Vodka Pickles", and they are soooooo good.. They're hot and garlicky and hard to come by. So I decided to give pickles another try..
My mom got the recipe for me.. It looked like this.


VODKA PICKLES
In the bottom of a quart jar, place the following:
6 cloves garlic finely chopped
1 tsp. pickling spice
3 red peppers, chopped
6 springs fresh dill or 1 tsp. dill seed
¼ tsp. alum
Wash cukes with brush, cut lengthwise into spears and pack loosely in the quart jar.
Bring to boil: 2 cups of water
3 T. salt
Set off heat and stir in ¼ c. vodka and ½ c. vinegar. Pour over spears to fill jar leaving ½” of headspace. Seal at room temperature. (We sometimes use a hot bath to seal). Store in the refrigerator. Ready to eat in 2-3 weeks.
MUST be kept in the refrigerator.
Note: It takes about 20 small cucumbers to make 4 quarts.

I bought a new pan, the ingredients, some jars, and some canning "tools" and got started.
There were just a couple glitches.

A) it said "3 chopped red peppers". That was pretty vague. "red pepper" in any other recipe means a bell pepper, to me..
but I sized up the jars and thought "3 red bell peppers is going to take up a lot of room in that jar.. That can't be right".
So I thought and thought and thought.. Vodka pickles are hot.. That must mean "hot red peppers". So I bought habenero's (I was just guessing).
B) Three tablespoons of salt.. Every thing I read online said "do not use table salt".. But the recipe didn't specify.
Again, I guessed and used canning/pickling salt.
C) I hear alum is was make them crunchy.. So I added just a pinch more than it said.
D) I've never sealed anything with a water bath..... punt
E) My cukes started out orange????????
F) I bought the cheapest vodka in existence. It seriously had a ring you had to pull on it (like a milk jug).
G) After all was said and done, the ingredients in the jar, the cukes in the jar, the vodka/vinegar mixture in the jar, and a water bath. I inspected the jars and there was MOLD in them.. green/blue floating mold.. Panic.. So I googled.. Did you know that if garlic isn't properly aged, it will turn blue when exposed to vinegar??? Perfectly safe to eat if you can get passed the mold idea.
So I figure I'm going to wait the two weeks for them to "ferment" and the end product is going to be drunken pickles that are too hot, salty and moldy to eat.

Commercials

So if you haven't noticed there are commercials on my blog site..
You might be asking yourself why this is..

Do you know you can make actual real live money doing this??
Not facebook fake money from Mafia Wars.. Because let me tell ya, I'm a billionaire on that particular application. But real life money that I can take to Fatman's and buy beer with.

My sister had mentioned this to me several weeks ago as something to try and Lord knows I need some extra money. So I figure - what the hell?

Undoubtedly this is going to be too good to be true.. But if it's not, I'll remember all of you when I'm living off my Blogger commercial income, in Jamaica mon.

I do find it ironic that the first few ads that were randomly posted on my blog have to do with hair dye.

Hair dye hell

So if you haven't heard, I dyed my daughters hair black.
And not just any black.. Black so black, it's blue..
I dyed my daughters hair blueblack.

Oh stop gasping.. IT'S JUST HAIR..
That has been my philosophy since uh, FOREVER..

Back in the day, I was known to do all kinds of weird things with my own hair including but not limited to, dying it orange and/or pink, shaving it, growing it, having a tail. You name it, I probably did it..
I was the same way when Andrew came along.. He had long hair, flat tops, mullets and I even used to take him to have designs shaved into the back (his hockey number, a Nike symbol, whatever he was into at the moment)
And my mother hated it (just about as much as she hates that I let Ryleigh do pretty much anything with her hair). When I was about 15 there was actually one episode that repulsed my mother so badly, she fired me from my job at the Ramada and refused to look at me until my hair grew back.

But, I figure if she is going to physically alter her appearance to express herself, hair is the best choice since it's easy to fix.

I have to explain that this kid has more hair on her head, than anyone I've ever met..
She was born with at least 2 inches that stuck straight up on her entire head.. She seriously looked like a troll doll for the first 4 months she was alive.. By the time she was two years old, she could sit on it..
The problem was, she was so tender headed, I couldn't do anything with it.. She screamed when I washed it, she screamed when I brushed it, she screamed if I just looked at it..
So what to do, but whack it off.. And we did.. About 17 inches to be exact.
Since then, she's gotten less soft on her melon and can do more with it..

So much to the dismay of most of my family, hair is free game and Sunday night we decided to dye it black.
Let me just say, if you ever get to chance to venture into this particular physical alteration, let it go.

It went sorta like this.
I mixed the color and color enhancer crap in the provided bottle and shook and shook and shook.
In the past when I've colored my hair, the color in the bottle changes slightly to match the color that's pictured on the box.. No matter how much I shook, the concoction stayed white. I even reread the instructions to make sure I mixed the right things together..
I did, so I proceeded..
I sat Ryleigh facing backwards on the toilet and started applying the white hair dye.
Remember how much hair she has? I ran out of hair dye 3/4 of the way around her head.
I shook and squeezed as much out of the applicator/bottle as I could.
So then (with the supplied cheapass gloves) I'm squeezing dye out of the front of her head to apply it to the back of her head. I was literally milking her hair for more dye.
And I must be really good at it because it worked and I got her entire head of thickass hair covered in white goo. Threw a towel around her shoulders and sent her on her way to marinate for 30 minutes.
I took off the gloves and rinsed the applicator (I've heard they're combustible) and threw them all away.
As we sat in front of the TV waiting, I could see the color changing on her hair. And her face. Apparently when I was milking her hair, I was touching her beautiful mayonnaise colored face with my hair dye goopy gloved hands. I DYED MY DAUGHTERS FACE BLUEBLACK!!!. Along with my arms and how I got blueblack hair dye up to my elbows, I still do not know. But I would recommend to the hair dye people that they put a rain coat in the blueblack hair dye boxes, instead of some measly cheapass wrist length gloves.
She was calm about it and said it would come off with alcohol (not the drinking kind).

After 30 minutes she headed to the shower to rinse..
25 minutes later I went to check on her..
The first thing I noticed were the blueblack splatters ALL OVER THE BATHROOM.
When I was shaking the bottle and milking her hair, I was splattering the white goo in the bathroom and in 30 minutes every white splatter turned blueblack.. nice..
So I peek into the shower and the water is still coming off her head with a bluish purple tint to it..
We couldn't get it rinsed.. So finally I told her to put some shampoo in it.. Rinse, lather, repeat. and repeat, and repeat and repeat until finally I was satisfied.
She put the special included conditioner in and I cleaned up the bathroom splatters.
When it was all said and done, the bathroom is clean, her face is not blueblack, my elbows look normal, and she actually looks really cute with black hair.
sorry mom

Barking Spiders

So my new job is in Human Resources.. This means I interview, hire and supervise employees.
The interviews take place at my desk in the Kelly Services office, which is right next door to The Great Wall Chinese restaurant.

One of my first interviews was a young good looking kid. Well mannered and quiet.. Met all of Kelly's standards..
I hired him..

We were sitting at my desk filling out the last few tax papers and going over the different things he needs to do for us to place him.

After he signed his name several times he got up to leave and he tooted.. That's right. he farted, right there in my chair...

I thought to myself "how embarrassing for him"..
He walked around to the front of my desk turned back, looked me dead in the eye and with a half of a shit eating grin on his face, he shook my hand and walked out.. Leaving his farticles behind (not that I smelled it, but I heard it).

I then started to load his information into the computer and I heard it again. A toot, flatulence, gas passing, barking spiders, fluff, fart.. Whatever you want to call it, I heard it.
But he was gone.. So who was it?? Is the Kelly office haunted? Was it ghost farts?

Then I heard it again and finally asked my coworkers what that noise was..
It's the chair legs scooting across the floor at The Great Wall Chinese restaurant. The wall muffles the noise just enough to make it sound like toots..

That's not the worst part.. The worst part is that as I thought about it, I realized that the guy I was interviewing had to have heard it too.
He wasn't grinning because he tooted and walked out..
He was grinning because he thought it was me..

I can do it

Okay so you can't tell it by the blonde hair and blue eyes (not that it matters because I color my hair and wear green contacts), but there is quite a bit of Italian blood coursing through my veins..
It comes from my dads side, who in the summer when he's tanned, looks a little mobstery with all his gold chains and rings, and dark skin.
Both of my siblings also sport some physical Italian features.. Even my mother (who doesn't have Italian blood) tans beautifully.. I on the other hand am about the shade of oh, let's see, mayonnaise..

All of this is beside the point..
The point is, within this Italian family the ability to make homemade spaghetti sauce is considered a gift.. My brother Kevin, makes some of the best sauce ever.. My Uncle Larry's (although my fathers, brother, he is not Italian and it's a long story) is not one you would want to challenge, even my non-Italian mother makes kick ass sauce..
(I'd just like to point out, my dad the actual Italian in the family does not. but that's not what this is about).
These sauce makers spend hours preparing the red gold.. Even days in some cases..
I however, have never made it.. (Unless you count cracking a jar of Prego and "tweaking" it just a little bit.. )
I'm not sure why.. Maybe because I didn't think I could make anything that could even sit in the same room with the others. Maybe because I didn't feel the need when I could just hit my brother, mother or uncle up for some labor-free sauce.. Who knows.. But I've never attempted to make it homemade..
Besides the Prego tweaking, for a quick meal after work/school, I have otherwise made no attempt in my 40 years of life, to duplicate the talent of my family members..
Well Mother, brother, uncle I say this to you - GAME ON...

With the wildest of hairs up my arse, I decided to give it a shot..
and guess what.... I'M GOOD AT IT..
Finally - proof that I am a biological part of this dark complected (sp?) family.

Foniks

When did the pronunciation of certain words change.
When I was growing up.
Coupon was pronounced Q-pon. Now it's pronounced Coopon (coopin if you'reRon White).
Same with mute. It used to be myoot, now it's moot.
Cafe was Caafay, now it's cufay with the emphasis on the first syllable.

And why don't these words rhyme?
What - That
Wash - Bash
Home - Come
Cafe - Safe.

And while we're on the English language.. One word should NOT have twopronunciations.For example:
Live, can be pronounced Liv or Lyve
Read, can be pronounced Reed or Red.

I know you have some more of these language pain in the butts..
What's your favorite?

couch surfing, FB and Kelly

Can you believe I've been this quiet for this long???
It's been a while since I've blogged. I hope I remember how..

Okay so anyway.. I was running out of things to blog about.. When you never leave the house, the only people that give you stuff to blog about, are the ones that live with you, and you can only talk about those people for so long.
So I was in writer's block.

Then the unthinkable happened.. I got talked into joining Facebook (FB). Kara Dowell has been on me forever to join, and I resisted.. Then Dan Welch gave me a bunch of grief about it.. And finally I caved in.. Now I'm trying to recruit my family (you'll find the irony in this in a minute).
It gets worse.. My friend Beth Hay sent me an invitation on FB to be her neighbor in FB Farm Town.. Farm Town is this game where you actually have a blot of land that you can farm. You have to plow the land, go to the market to buy the seeds, plant the seeds, wait until they grow, harvest the crop and sell to make money, then re-plow, re-seed etc.. You also have to help your neighbors by tending to their crops.. And you can't do certain things until you recruit 8 neighbors.. I need three more, so sign up for FB and come be my Farm Town neighbor.. I NEED YOU!!!

Anyway, that's not ALL I've been doing..

Are you ready for this?????

I GOT A JOB!!!!

I have been signed up with Kelly Services since like 2007, right after Heatcraft announced the shut down. They've sent me on 3 interviews.. One of the places actually told me I was overqualied (never heard that at my last job).. They offered me the job, but didn't want to pay very well.
So, I was feeling kinda low..
Then last Thursday the district manager for Kelly Services called and wanted me to come in Friday morning to talk to HER.. She was making a trip to Danville to meet me..
I went in Friday morning and an hour later, I walked out with a J.O.B. that started Monday.
Get this, I'm in HR.. I am a recruiter for Kelly Services.. My duties include screening, interviewing, supervising AND EVEN FIRING (if needed). It's awesome and I'm pretty pumped about it..
Today was my fourth day, and they threw me in.. I did my first two interviews today.. And besides a couple technical errors, I DID IT!!! And I got an Atta girl.

Anyway I'm still alive, and yes, bragging a little bit..

You want privacy????

Remember when you were growing up and your mom would do or say something you didn't like.
For example not letting you wear what you wanted to wear..
"No Kerri, you may not leave the house in plaid pink pants and an orange striped shirt".
And you would stomp back to your room to change, mumbling "When I have kids, I'm gonna let them wear whatever they want".

I had one of those moments.

Ryleigh (who turned 12 last Thursday) has a MySpace. Yeah I know, that's a little young to start. Beside the point.
The other night I made her log on to her MySpace account so I could see what she had been doing on it.
I went through her friends list asking her who different people were, looked over her profile, went through her photos, I made her take a couple things out, and delete a description under one of the pictures. There were a couple things I didn't like.. But nothing that made me want to call Dr. Phil.
Then I went to her MySpace email account and was randomly picking emails to open up and read.
I didn't like some of them (she cursed). And I told her she wasn't acting very lady like and if she wasn't careful she was going to get a not so pretty reputation. Told her that I was going to check more often and if she didn't get it cleaned up, I would kill her MySpace account..
Just mom stuff. I'm sure all she heard was "blah blah blah".

Then it came..

"When I have kids, I'm not going to invade their privacy like you do".

WHOA!!!! I told her it was my house and my computer and I could look at anything I wanted.
But inside I was laughing my butt off.

What did I do? I got a piece of paper and wrote down her exact words and made her sign it..
It's in her box of memories, waiting for the day that she has her first "I've turned into my mother" moment.

This was my baby then.

This is my baby now.

No Comment

Many moons ago Bev Ryan told me to write a book..
An Erma Bombeck "Life is a bowl of cherries" kinda thing..
I love to write.. But, I don't call myself a writer.
As I mentioned several times I suffer from attention deficit disorder.. Which basically means my brain works like a TV remote with the channel button stuck.. I go from one thought to another without realizing it, or being able to stop it.. It also means that my fingers could never keep up with a thought, making it near impossible to get anything in type before the next fleeting thought interrupts me.
But Bev was persistent.. I can't really come up with topics like Erma.. When I write, it's always about stuff that is important to me (or super annoying)..
So I thought about what was important and decided if I were to write a book (I haven't), it would be for other moms that have troubled teens.. To let them know they're not alone, and to explain how I survived it..

I cried for about 3 years straight when Andrew was in his early teens..
And then one day Dana Williams who was my sister-in-law (Andrews Aunt) at the time (now she's just one of my very best friends), called me..
I had never heard anyone laughing so hard.. She asked me when they had made a movie about Andrew.. I was lost, but she proceeded to explain that she had just seen a preview for movie and if the main character wasn't my kid, she'd kiss my ass.. But she couldn't remember the name of the movie..
The next week, I saw the preview.. I called Dana in tears of laughter and told her she was right..
The movie - Malibu's Most Wanted.

That is the day I decided I couldn't cry any more (thanks D), and if I was to survive being the mother of a troubled teen, I was going to have to find the humor in it..
It was work.. His actions were never funny or something to be taken lightly.. Some times I would have to call Dana and ask her to help me find something funny in one situation or another.. Some times, the laughter would be at my own expense, some times it would be at his.. But I HAD to find something.

Many people in my life that haven't had to deal with a child like this, judged me. But it's a totally acceptable defence mechanism.. Even if you're reading this today and never knew about Andrews antics, you might think my humor tactic is wrong.. That's okay, it worked for me.

If you got a call at 2 in the morning that went something like "your son stole a car, ran from the cops, wrecked the stolen car, was under the influence, and doesn't have a drivers license", how would you react?
I lost my mind.. Cried, yelled at the cop that called, begged him to take Andrew home with him (he was an awesome man, very supportive and understanding as he dealt with a crazed mother) and then I laughed.. Not because what he did was at all funny.. I was completely mortified at that part.. Humiliated, pissed, you name it.. I laughed because I couldn't believe he wasn't smarter than that.. Who does something like that?? And I laughed because I pictured him jumping out of the car and trying to run, while he held his pants up (he does that gangsta sagging thing)

Back to the book part, which is where this post started (prime example of ADD).

So I decided a good way to test whether I could attempt a book was to try this blogging thing..
If I could get short little stories out, maybe I could do something bigger..
I never really expected comments when I started.. But they came, and I liked it..
Now I find myself constantly checking my blog to see if anyone commented on my posts..
And when there are no comments, I start thinking "hmm.. maybe no one liked it, or maybe they've all stopped reading"..
No I'm not fishing for comments, I don't comment on everyone else's blog..
I was just hoping I wasn't the only one with this teeny tiny case of paranoia.

Does anyone else get just a little disappointed if they don't get a comment?

Not always a smart ass.

As I was scanning channels last night, I happened upon a movie that kept me up until 3 o'clock this morning.
It was called "My Left Foot". It was the story of Christy Brown (a man), and it was a true story..

It reminded me of the days I worked for the local school district. I was a personal nurse for severe/profound special needs children.. It was a job that truly touched my heart.. Most of the kids were autistic.. But it was a mix of many different disabilities.. Developmentally delayed, physically handicapped, children that were products of addicted mothers, some kids that you would see and call "vegetables", and kids affected with cerebral palsy..
I would still be doing this job if it was financially possible (special needs nursing, doesn't pay near enough).

Every one of these kids touched me in their own special way..
We lost two of my girls while I was working at the school.. People who don't understand or may even be afraid of a special needs child might say "they're better off".. Well, nope.. All of these people have a purpose.. And losing those girls was devastating to me.. They were full of personality, and I couldn't wait to see them every day..

Why this post? Because the movie flooded me with the memories (I can't begin to tell you how much I miss the kids)..
Christy Brown was born with cerebral palsy (note the link to the United Cerebral Palsy foundation on the right side of my blog)..
C.P. is one of the cruelest diseases to me.. It is damage to the motor control center of the brain.. Most C.P. patients have spastic movements, speech impediments, drooling, they're unable to walk well, if at all.. They would look like what most people would call a mentally handicapped person..
Here's the thing.. They are not mentally handicapped at all.. In fact, unless they have other disabilities, they are just as intelligent as you or I.. But they are trapped in body that doesn't work..
In public they are treated like a retard (sorry about the politically incorrect term)..

My first job was with severe/profound adults, at Crosspoint.. Tom was one of my favorite clients.. Admittedly I was scared of him at first.. I started that job when I was 19, and I didn't know anything about mental illness.. He always smiled when he came in and with that smile came a stream of drool.. I avoided eye contact and absolutely had no intention of shaking his hand.. But as my time at Crosspoint progressed and I learned his speech patterns, I realized he was a pretty smart guy with a sense of humor that put Robin Williams to shame.. He refused to use a wheel chair or walk with a cane.. He stumbled through Danville, with pride in who he was.. Something many of us can't do..
I don't know what ever happened to Tom.. Last time I saw him was 15 years ago at the DACC springfest.. You see, the only job he could get was picking up garbage with one of those little poker sticks..
I hugged him, wiped the drool off my arm and told him it was good to see him.. But I could see kids (and sadly adults) staring..

Christy Brown was treated like a freak until he was about 8.. All of his limbs were basically useless except his left foot.. With it, he wrote the word MOTHER and a new world opened up for him.. He is a published author, a gifted painter, and a husband..
If you get the chance to see this movie, take it.. Daniel Day Lewis will stun you with his portrayal of Christy Brown..

In the mean time, when you see someone who has a disability that might otherwise scare you, say hi.. Or at least shoot them a smile.. It may not seem like it on the outside, but inside every human shell, is a soul..

Bon Voyage!!!

There were a couple things I wanted to do while I was off.
Spend time with my parents and do something exciting with Ryleigh..

So mom (Bev) and I hatched this plan to go see relatives on her side of the family in Texas.
An all girl get away.. They live in San Antonio and I haven't seen them in about 20 years..
I hate to fly.. I mean I seriously hate to fly.. But Ry has never flow before and I thought it would be a great experience for her..

Bev on the other hand, was all about saving a buck.. She immediately started map questing our route.
She had this all worked out in her head.. We were taking her Honda Accord instead of my roomier Kia Sorento, to save on gas.. I argued, she fought, I begged, she won..

My friend Beth lives in Irving Texas.. Here's how it was going to go.. We were going to leave tomorrow, drive to Irving, stay at Beth's, go on to San Antonio on Saturday. Stay there for two days and head back.. On the way back we would stop in Fort Smith and stay with my dad's cousin and then finish the trip on Wednesday or Thursday.. It is 20 hours each way..

If you really know me, you know that family is super important to me.. My kids are my life.. My daughter is a joy (for now). And often times I don't do grown up things because I'd rather spend time with her.. (She's growing up fast and I want to get in as much time with her as I can)..

I love my mom.. She is not just my mom, she is my friend..

Here's the thing.. No matter how much I love both of these people, I'm not sure I like either of them well enough to be in a Honda Accord with them for 40 hours..
Why? Three different generations means..
Three different types of music.
Three different types of hormones.
Three different types of restaurant choices.
Three different kidney/bladder combinations.
Three different desired car interior temperatures.
Three different sets of life challenges (mom-retirement, Ry-teenage drama, me-jobless and adjusting to a full time relationship).

See the pattern of threes here..
Every issue is the same.. Three different somethings, except one..
One personality..
That's right folks.. I am my mother's daughter and my daughter's mother..
We are all opinionated, vocal, we don't mince words and we don't hold back..
If you are our waitress and you suck, you will know you suck.. And you will know it three different ways.
Same goes inside the Honda Accord.. If you pick shitty music, you will know the rest of us hate it.. If you make a bad judgement driving, you will hear about it for the next 450 miles or until you make another bad judgement.. And when you get to a place with new humans, they will be told about your bad judgement (I speak from experience).

But even with all of this adversity, I was preparing myself to make the journey..

And then it happened.. Out of the blue.. The phone call blind-sided me..
It's mom..
Her: I found airline tickets for $XXX.
Me: BOOK IT..

Now I'm not sure if the afore mentioned thoughts had finally gone through my mothers head and brought her to her senses.. Or if the fact that it's 86 degrees in San Antonio, that made her change her mind.. I don't care why she changed it..
And as much as I HATE to fly.. I love the idea that I will not be in that Accord for 40 hours, more than I hate to fly..

We leave tomorrow and get back next Thursday.. Hopefully tan and relaxed..
And although I'm sure a road trip with three females would have given me much to blog about, I'm sure there will still be some antics to share when I return.

See ya soon Glascocks.

I have a coke problem

I'm addicted.. The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, right?
Well I'm hooked on the stuff..
I require ounces of it daily.. If I don't get it, I'm impossible to deal with it..
It makes me feel happy, there is always some in my house, I often hide it from my kids.
Those are classic signs of addiction..
I also love the way it tickles my nose and throat..

THE BUBBLES.. I LOVE THE WAY THE BUBBLES TICKLE MY NOSE AND THROAT.
Coca-Cola.. Soda, pop, fountain drink, cola, carbonated beverage, sarsaparilla (that may just be root-beer)..

And you were so ready to think the worst..

I am a true blue Coca-cola addict.. The fountain kind.. If I have to drink it out of a bottle I will.. But if there is a fountain, look out..
Lately, I've been mixing diet and regular.. My dad swears it doesn't matter, he says "pop is the worst thing you could put into your body. And diet is no better than regular".. He's probably right..
After all, there was an email that went around called "101 things to do with Coca-Cola". One of them said to use it to remove battery acid from your car battery, or something..
I'm trying to drink the diet because for some reason it makes me feel better about how much I consume..

What brought this up? Well I have a question..
WHEN DID 32 OUNCES (A BIG GULP) BECOME A MEDIUM???
Remember the days when your parents would take you to dinner and make you get a small pop.. And you hated it because you knew the 6 ounce glass would be gone in 3 sips.. They don't make that size anymore..
The smallest you can get is like 20 ounces, a medium is 32, and a large is 44.. 44 ounces of battery acid eating goodness..

This is great for me.. You will often see me leaving a gas station with my 44 ounce Styrofoam cup..
The problem is Ryleigh.. I can already see signs that I'm passing the addiction on to her.. I need there to be a small, the way small used to be when I was growing up..

I'm going to hear about this post from my mom.. And this is what she's going to say..
"When you kids were growing up, we never even had pop in the house.. You only got pop on special occasions.".. She's right..
But when I was growing up, I didn't have a cell phone, or a computer, or a TV in my room (this a whole post in itself)..
Things are just different now, and pop is more readily available..
Ryleigh has a phone, a computer, and a TV/DVD player in her room.. And Coke in the fridge..

turning 40 and still riding horses.

Today I turn the big 4-0. I thought I would wake up feeling different.. Feeling old.. Looking older.. Joints hurting.. Maybe I would wake up and be covered in age spots (besides the ones that are already there).. Wake up with grey hair and a million wrinkles..
But guess what?? Nothing is different.. I don't look older than I did yesterday, I don't feel older than I did yesterday.. I woke up and did the same things at 40 years old, that I did at 39.. Took my daughter to the eye doctor, then to school.. Came home, let the dog out (Andrew's dog and a whole different post), and started a load of laundry.. This sounds fairly mundane.. But it's actually very exciting.. The world does not fall apart or even change because a person turns 40.. That's pretty good news..
Don't get me wrong.. I have evidence of age.. The veins in my hands are starting to bulge.. I have some crows feet and puffiness under my eyes.. Things that should be perky are looking a little more like lethargic.. But this gradual "easing" into "old" works for me..
And on the bright side, I inherited this wonderful gene from my mother.. I call it the "you don't look your age" gene.. So if need be, I could pass for at least 35..

Yesterday, I passed for 21.. Not really..
Mom and I went to Indianapolis to spend the day with my sister (celebrating me of course)..
The plans were to go to lunch and then do a little shopping..
We went to Joe's Crab Shack.. Crab legs have been my favorite food since I was two.. And I ate a pound of them for lunch yesterday (BLISS!!!)..
Craig was our waiter.. And when Craig came to our table to get our drink order, my sister practically yelled to him that it was my birthday, and she made sure to include my age (like the pin they made me wear, that said "fantastic at 40 didn't give it away)..
Craig said he would have guessed 27.. I liked Craig.. But it got better..
At the end of our meal, Kim reminded Craig that it was indeed an event.. And he walked away..
Good ol' Craig came back with a beat up straw hat and a broomstick with a horse head on one end of it..
Then my pal Craig SCREAMS to EVERYONE at Joe's Crab Shack that "This is Kerri, and she's celebrating her 21st birthday" (see why I liked him)..
He tells me (and everyone) that I must don the hat, and ride the stick pony through the Shack until he's done singing to me.. Then he whispers to me that if he is not satisfied with the way I'm riding, he will stop the song and make me start over..
So yes, ladies and gentlemen.. I rode that damn pony to impress.. After all, it was 90 miles from home, I didn't know a soul in there, and I will never see Craig or the stick version of Mr. Ed, ever again..
We're not sure if there are pictures or not.. After Kim took a couple I heard her say something about no memory card in the camera.. You see, she's older than I am.. Gotta wonder if her memory isn't a little more challenged ..
But it was a great day.. Thanks Kim and Mom for helping me celebrate.. I think I'm gonna turn 40 again next week.. Can we do Quiznos for lunch this time??

Today has been a good day to have a birthday.. And tonight I'm going to my surprise birthday dinner.. I can't wait!!!

Had your fiber today?

Have you ever been sitting on the toilet and thought "hey, I'm a little hungry, how about I eat some toilet paper?"..
Yeah, me either..
But apparently this happens..

I'm not a big Tyra Banks fan.. I don't dislike her.. But I don't go to great efforts to watch her..
The other night my daughter comes into the living room and tells me to turn on Tyra..
There are three guest.. One eats chalk dust and baby powder.. She tried Comet once (when she was pregnant) but didn't like it (go figure).. So now she sticks mostly to chalk dust.. She is a school teacher and when the kids leave, she rubs a piece of chalk (she doesn't like it whole), on a rough surface to produce her snack.. Then licks it out of the palm of her hand..

The second guest picks scabs off her head and eats them.. That's wrong on too many levels to list here..

They showed a clip of a non-guest's stomach content... They had to operate for abdominal pain.. They cut out a hair ball the size of a watermelon.. A WATERMELON.. Do this, pull out one strand of hair from your head.. Look at it closely.. How many of those do you think it would take to make a watermelon sized hair ball.. And not a small melon.. A big ol' family cookout sized watermelon..

The third guest eats toilet paper.. And not just once in while.. EVERY DAY.. How much she eats was a little unclear.. At first she said she ate a half a roll a day.. Then later she said she eats 4 rolls a week.. My Danville High School education says, that math is way off.. But then it showed a clip of this woman.. She was pulling stuff out of a bag she carries around.. And out came a roll of toilet paper.. But not a normal household roll.. Nope, an industrial giant roll.. Surely she doesn't eat 4 of those a week.. So I theorized that she probably eats normal household toilet paper most of the time, and the industrial roll is her "stash"..
Who does this??? What kind of crazy screwed up brain tells you to eat toilet paper???
The nurse in me says "what the hell does this shit (no pun intended) do to your body??
She claims she was just sitting on the toilet one day, looked over and got a craving.. I wonder, does one brand taste better than the other???
And too think, I just read when I'm on the toilet..


The next night Tyra had on guys that were "gay for pay".. If you're ever out of stuff to blog about, watch Tyra..

Shades of green

I mentioned the other day that I'm trying to help save the planet..

Saving aluminum, using old newspapers to start my fireplace, trying to get a filter on my faucet so I don't have to buy bottled water.. blah blah blah..

Well I'm not green yet.. More of an aqua..

Recall, I bought 5 reusable grocery sacks..

So yesterday I had a hair appointment and Ryleigh had an orthodontist appointment..
There was about an 45 minutes between them and I had planned on hitting the grocery store during that time.. I had my County Market coopins (that's only funny if you watch Ron White) and if I spent $50 I would get 25 cents in pump perks, putting me up to 70 cents off per gallon of gas at Mach1.. Got done with my hair, picked Ry up from school and headed to the store.. Before I got there I realized I didn't have my reusable grocery sacks.. And there wasn't enough time to go back home and still get my shopping done.. Plus the first time I use them, I didn't want to be the one bagging, so I wanted to wait until Scott could go to the store with me.. Ry and I stopped and had a coke instead.. With the plan to go to the store after the ortho appointment and when Scott got off work..

fast forward to after all that.. Standing in the check out line making sure I had spent the $50 (I love my pump perks..
I start to send Scott to the end of the grocery conveyor when I say (too loudly) "SHIT"..
My reusable grocery sacks are hanging on the door knob of my back door.. The tags are still on them.

All little girls are not made of sugar and spice

Well I did it.. Last Thursday I cleaned Ryleigh's room..
Can I just say.. OMG!!! She's darn lucky she was at school.

And before I go any further, you should know, I'm a complete germ-o-phobe..
I do not eat or drink after ANYONE..
At 11 Ryleigh should be doing dishes.. I won't let her because I don't think she can get them clean enough and then when I try to eat off of them, I gag thinking about it.. Seriously, my dish water is so hot, it burns my hands through the rubber gloves.
Any dishes that I send leftovers home in with Andrew, I tell him to keep because I don't know what goes on at his house..
If I HAVE to pee in a public bathroom, I will hold my purse by the handle in my teeth, I will NOT set it down on a public bathroom counter or even hang it on the door hook.. (do you have any idea how many bacteria are on those surfaces?
I love money, hate touching it.. ewwwww.
If you spray it when you say it, I will gag right in front of you..
Anyone or anything I touch is analyzed for possible germ content.
I used to have to toss Andrews room once a week looking for stuff that shouldn't be there.. I basically made myself Hazmat ready before I even started.. Then showered as soon as I got done..

Ryleigh is not much better.. And this is how it went in her room.

6 water bottles
2 Gatorade bottles
paper plates
yogurt containers
2 spoons
1 fork
Q-tips
5 (count them) 5 loads of laundry
A couple school papers that looked like they hadn't been turned in.
A note from the school that listed the dates and times that I was to cover the gate for the basketball tournament.. Get this, I was to do it in early December.. So now I'm sure they were talking horrible about me because I didn't show up..
And worst of all, a broken sock.. I kid you not.. Recall the problem we have with her feet.. I found a sock that was so stiff, I could break it.. Not tear or rip it, break it....
All in all, I came up with two lawn bags of garbage.. I decided the problem was maybe that she had too much stuff.. So I starting throwing crap away (so far she hasn't missed anything). I also took a nightstand and some stacking shelves out..

Anyway.. I got it clean.. Then we went all over Danville looking for a "cute" garbage can to put in her room.. (Kim, she wants one like Meredith).. But during our shopping she says "Why do I need one"..
Me: to put all that garbage in instead of on your floor..
Her: what garbage?
Me: Uh the Q-tips and plates.
Her: I'm not putting paper plates in it.
Me: Why not?
Her: because they stink..
You know that look of disbelief when your mouth is open and your eyes are crossed? I had it..
Me: They don't stink when they're on your floor?
I think I'm going to choke her.

Damn it Dixon

I will be the first to admit that I've never been a very green person.
We eat off paper plates, I probably have 450,000 plastic pop and water bottles in a land-fill somewhere, I throw newspapers in the garbage, I don't car-pool, I have plastic grocery bags stuffed into each other all over the place.. etc... etc... etc...

But I know I'm not green.. I have said out loud "we should use real plates" or "maybe we should use paper grocery sacks..

In the past year or so, I've become more aware of my bad habits.. I bought a trash can specifically for cans and foil.. And I do throw all my cans in it.. I don't throw aluminum foil in it if I've used it to line a pan that I'm going to cook something messy in.. I made chicken cordon bleu Monday, the cheese oozed out my chicken and stuck to the foil, that foil is headed for a land fill, I didn't want it to sit in my can for cans and get all stinky.
I'm not sure if I decided to recycle aluminum because I wanted to save the environment or because I like the idea that I can justify my pop intake by saying "the more pop I drink, the more money I can get when I take the cans to the junk yard".. I have to say it pisses me off that slim-fast cans are not aluminum..
I love to find new ways to make a buck.. Last Friday I took two 55 gallon garbage bags of clothes to the resale shop.. They picked through the giant pile and selected about 6 things they were willing to buy.. (hint, when you take clothes to a place like this, make sure they're not covered in cat hair). They ended up giving me $14 and let me leave the rest of the crap there for them to dispose of..
Just last week I bought a water filter that goes on the faucet so I could stop buying bottled water.. This is going to end up being more expensive than I wanted it to be because when I got it home, it wouldn't screw on because the threads on the faucet are stripped.. So to be able to use it and cut down on my bottled water addiction, I have to buy a new faucet.. Hey I think Janice Landi blogged about some plumbing work she did.. Janice, you going to be in town anytime soon???

So the point is, I'm taking baby steps to this whole "Go Green" concept..
Then along come a post on "My Random Thoughts" (Thanks Amy) And I got all guilt ridden and thought that I really need to do more to save the planet.. And I need to be a good example for my daughter who has 450,000 plastic bottles on her floor (it is a land fill in itself.).
Last night we went to Wal-mart.. I dressed for the occasion in sweat pants, a hoodie, my fleece lined crocs, and no make up.. While we were there I passed four shopping carts of "clearance" items.. Mostly Christmas stuff.. Except one cart was full of the reusable shopping bags..
Again - Thanks bunches Amy for that guilt trip you didn't even know you were taking me on while I was in my best white trash outfit at Walmart.. But I did it.. I broke down and bought 5 "go green" reusable shopping bags.. I thought it was kind of funny that the check out lady shoved them into a plastic bag..

Pretty lame post, I know.. But I'm putting off cleaning Ryleigh's room.. It's been on my "to-do" list all week.. Yesterday I cleaned the oven because I thought it sounded better than heading into ground zero..
I know what you're saying "she's 11, make her clean her own room".. Her idea of cleaning the room is to see how much crap she can squeeze under her bed and in her closet.. So probably twice a year, I go in and give it a complete over-haul.. Today is the day..
By the time I'm done, I'll be pissed, disgusted and needing another shower..
But not to worry.. Stay tuned, and I'm sure you'll hear all about it..

Say What?

https://www.getlistenup.com/ver7/index.asp?id=&refcode=GLU1002

Have you seen the commercial for this "listening device"??? I know you have..
It starts out with this older, presumably married couple.. It's very obvious this bitter old woman can't stand her poor hearing impaired husband..
It shows them in bed, she's reading a book and he's watching TV (you can hear the TV in the background)..
She turns to him with fire in her eyes.. I mean it seriously looks like if she had a weapon in her hand, this pathetic old man would be dead.. She says (in this "I hate your friggin' guts" tone) "Does that have to be so loud?". I think what she means is "if you don't turn that down, I'm going to rip your heart out and feed it to you for breakfast".
Then it shows her again and she's on the phone (you can hear music playing) she tells her friend to hold on in the same "I hate my husband tone"..

Ladies, you know the tone.. We've all been annoyed with our husbands at some point.. Well I don't think this old bat has ever been anything but annoyed with her husband.. She again yells at him to turn the music down.

She won't go buy him a real hearing aid.. But she is willing to spend $19.95 plus shipping and handling for a "Listen Up" that he can carry around..

Here's the deal.. You can hear with this thing, if you're willing to go through life one handed.. It's a set of ear-buds connected to a device that is a little bit smaller than an Altoids tin.. You put the ear-buds in and hold the mini Altoids tin in the air, aiming at whatever it is you want to hear.

In the commercial you see a little old lady sitting in church holding this thing up so she can hear what's going on.. I don't know about anyone else, but my church lasts a little over an hour.. I've played my hand held Yatzee game for an hour at a time before (not in church), and holding it up (in the same manner this 110 year old woman was holding up her "Listen Up"), made my fingers fall asleep.. I'm only 40, and still have pretty good circulation.. This lady is 150 and her blood is probably circulating at about the speed of Elmer's glue..
Her fingers will fall off if she holds that thing up for an entire church service..
Point being.. It's not super convenient..

Even though that's how the commercial starts, that's really not the target audience..
It goes on to show you what a great device it is for eavesdropping..
In a "Desperate Housewives" setting, it shows a woman checking her mailbox.. Across the street two younger women are talking.. The mail box woman is holding up her "Listen up" and catching every word they say (about her).. I can see this starting some neighborhood feuds..

Then a guy in a gym is listening to what two ladies across the room are saying about him.. They're talking about what great shape he's in.. What they should be saying is "look at that dumb-ass holding that thing in the air".. There really is nothing discrete about this thing..

There are so many things about this commercial that I hate..
Like the fact that is shows people going to church and people spying all in a 30 second time span. I'm willing to bet that if I asked either one of my ministers, they would tell me spying and eavesdropping is wrong..

I also hate the idea that it only portrays old people as hearing impaired.. I may still have great circulation, but my family will tell you that I can't hear worth a crap..

Or what about the fact that now when I walk out of my front door, I'm constantly looking for anyone holding their hand in the air to see if they're listening to what I'm saying.. This commercial has me paranoid..

So what's your favorite dumb invention? I'm desperate for something with blogability.

it's not all bon bons and soap operas

Well so far it hasn't been so bad..
Yesterday was really my first day at home alone..
I got up and took Ryleigh to school at the actual school start time..
For her entire school career she's gone to school an hour before it actually started for pre-care. And had to stay until 5 for after care..
So I took her to school.. Came home drank up a cup of coffee, got on the treadmill, watched Wheel of Fortune, took a shower, went to the police station to get finger printed (you can't go on a school field trip unless your prints are on file). I got back home about 12:45 and just kind of walked around the house.. I didn't know what to do with myself, so I took a nap. Then I got up and picked Ryleigh up at 3:30 when school actually got out..
If every day is like that, I'll be nuts..

Here are some things I've learned.. You can go 20 years without watching soap operas, and you still know what's going on.. I swear All My Children, hasn't changed.. Same people, same drama..
I no longer time things by the clock.. Instead of saying I went to pick Ryleigh up at 3:30, I should have said "I went to pick Ryleigh up half way through Rachel Ray".. I now know I can watch Rachel Ray until the second commercial break and still make it on time..

Today my morning was pretty much the same as yesterday.. But my mom called and invited me to her house for lunch.. Then we went to look at yarn.. She's going to knit me an afgan..
We stopped by a little diner that a friend I haven't seen in 20 years owns.. And guess what, I got a job offer.. Sorta.. She said to come back and talk to her about waiting tables a couple days a week.. Which wouldn't be too bad.. I waited tables for 8 years back in the day.. It would get me out of the house a little bit, and put some extra dollars in my pocket..
I'm not sure how serious she was..

Today when I picked Ryleigh up, she said everyone was asking her why she suddenly wasn't coming to pre and after care.. She told them her mom got laid off.. I'm glad she didn't say "lost her job".. That could be interpreted as "fired".
She did say she likes this new set up..

Tomorrow Ryleigh is going on a field trip to Springfield, she's begged me for years to go on a field trip with her.. They're going to the Lincoln House and then to some pizza place with pizza so big an overhead crane has to bring it to your table.. I think it was on the food network for something.. I kind of remember it..
Anyway, I went and got fingerprinted yesterday because I figured if I was going to be stuck on a field trip with 50+ 6, 7, and 8th grade kids, I might as well be a cool field trip.. But apparently all the other parents had the same thought, because when I offered to go and help, the teacher said that didn't need anymore parents.. Great.. That means I'm going to be stuck going on some lame-ass field trip to somewhere like the post office to see how mail is sorted..

Don't worry, I'm not going to give you daily updates of how I pace my house everyday, because I don't know what to do with myself..
But I thought I'd let you know I'm okay.. I can feel myself starting to relax..