Really?

I'm all about free speech (obviously). And music is no exception. Yes there are some questionable lyrics that probably shouldn't be played on the radio.. But the Constitution says we have free speech. And I personally take advantage of that.

As for the radio nothing like a 6 year old girl singing along to Britney's "If you seek Amy". Google the questionability (I don't think that's a word) if you don't already know..
Never mind I'll just tell you (although I hate to say my 12 year old and her friend had to explain it to me.
Say it slowly and think of the game Mad Gab..

IF........ YOU........ SEEK........ AMY......

Hint: do I need to spell it out for you??

Oh I give up. What Britney is really saying is F......U......C.......K....... ME..

You just had an "ah ha" moment, didn't you..

And although Britney's next hit "3" (about her threesome with Peter, Paul and Mary) could easily make her the topic of this post, She is not.

It's actually the radio stations thought process on censorship that has me scratching my head..

Ryleigh and I were in the car tonight when Zac Browns "Toes" came on the radio. We both like this song and sing along to it.
The local radio stations play the edited version so that instead of "Got my toes in the water, ass in the sand" it actually says "Got my toes in the water, toes in the sand". This works out well since I don't allow Ryleigh to say "ass". Although in my opinion it takes away from the song.
But as she finished singing a line in the song that goes "Gonna lay in the hot sun and roll a big fat one. And grab my guitar and play". She says to me "oh that's nice to play on the radio". Pointing out that "rolling a big fat one" makes reference to rolling a joint.. Yes, my 12 year old knows more than she should about such topics (if you know me at all, you know the unfortunate circumstances that have brought us to this point).
So Britney is F..... U..... C..... K...... MEing either before or after her 3some, And Zac Brown is rolling dope (along with thousands of other not so discrete lyrics) But they edited out the word ASS????
Really?

It hurts to be this smart.

There are two things that I really hate. Okay more than two. But for the sake of this post, there are two things that I hate.
Exercise and roller coasters.

It's obvious about the exercise thing. I've gained a little around the middle in the last couple years. And my lack of energy is probably a sign. Lack of strength. blah blah blah.. I'm outta shape.

I'm most worried about the extra pounds. It's not like I'm obese or anything.. But my clothes have stopped fitting. And I really don't want to spend the money to buy bigger clothes. The double chin (that I had even when I was 108 pounds) is not a triple. My granny flags flap when I wave.. Tell tale signs that I need to do something.
I'm also not a guru when it comes to getting in shape. My knowledge comes from watching Bob and Jillian beat up people on The Biggest Loser.
But from what I can gather, the idea of working out is to get you heart rate up, right? To like 120 or above. Can't do that playing facebook.

But I have a solution.. I was watching the Travel Channel last week. The show was all about extreme roller coasters. Some Bill Nye the science guy looking dork, wired him self up to a astronaut level of body monitors. Facial expressions, arousal level (little worried about how that electrode was attached), brain waves and heart rate. And while he was all wired up, he rode roller coasters.
Get this folks. The average heart rate of roller coaster rider is 120.
Now like I mentioned I hate exercise AND roller coasters. But I might just hate exercise more.
So I'm gonna be like Jared from Subway and invent my own weight loss plan.
If I ride a roller coaster like 7 times in a row, my heart rate will be 120 or above for about an hour. The exact time of an aerobics class that would get my heart rate to that level. So the exact time and heart rate I need to lose weight.
There is another bonus to this. Since I can't really aerobicize without my bladder reminding me that it's working, I can ride the roller coaster without wearing a depends.
I'll think of all of you when I'm living large on all the money the Theme parks are going to pay me to ride their rides.

My son thinks he can cook

In case you haven't heard (I can't imagine that you haven't) Andrew has moved back home.
This in itself is more stressful than you can even imagine.
He has been on his own for almost two years. So the idea of going back to any kind of rules alludes him. He is used to coming and going as he pleases, having friends over (including the new girlfriend) at all hours of the night, playing his music too loud, talking on his phone too loud, getting out of the shower without drying off first (or turning the water off for that matter), not cleaning out the bathroom sink. He is certainly not used to his 12 year old sister wanting to be part of his life. The list is endless.
I make the rules, he bucks them (the apple didn't fall far).

He does however get on me about eating out too much. I suppose this is a good thing for him to complain about. We do indulge in the convenience of fast food, far more often that is reasonable or healthy.

My argument to him is "pick a night and you can cook". There is just a slight problem with this idea.. MY SON CANNOT COOK.

Last night. Actually it was like 1 o'clock this morning, he decided that he was hungry. So he went through the freezer (since he's been home the food supply there has gone down immensely).
Anyway, he found a bag of frozen french fries.
I need to interject here that I can and do cook occasionally. But I do not fry. For a couple reasons. It's not healthy (because apparently McDonalds is) and because deep frying is a mess I choose not to deal with.

So at 1am, I'm finally able to doze off. For a minute. I was woke up by this smell. I can't even describe it. But my bedroom was filled with it. I figured he was cooking something and rolled over. But it just kept getting worse. I could feel my nostrils clogging, my head aching, my stomach turning. It was horrid.

When I finally got up, the kitchen was dark. There was an empty pan on top of the stove, the oven was on and the lad was nowhere to be seen (I assumed he had taken whatever he cooked down to his room). But I still could not clear myself of the smell.
I sat on the couch waiting for it to wane. It didn't. So I called him (yes I was calling the basement of the house I was sitting in). He didn't answer. I laid down on the couch but the smell was still too strong to sleep.
Finally I walked down to his room. Empty. He seriously cooked this shit and then left in the middle of the night. I opened a couple windows and the front door. Lit a candle and called him again. He answered. He was at a friends house. Whatever.. I was pissed, but not about that (yet).
I said "what the hell did you cook". He said "french fries".
Okay "what the hell did you put on them?" He said "garlic powder".
He put a half a spice jar worth of garlic powder on a 1/4 bag of frozen french fries and then put them in the oven. It seems he must have forgotten about it because when I looked closer at the pan, there was half a spice jar of burnt garlic powder on it.
This is no lie, I inhaled so much garlic in the middle of the night, that I had garlic breath all day today. It is seriously still stuck in my nose hair. I can't stop smelling it, almost 24 hours later.

During our phone call, I asked him one last question "when did you say you were moving out?".

I see how I rate

So I have a brother (don't act surprised his name is Kevin). He's SEVERAL years older than I am.
I can't really say I would call him a techy. He's got a cell phone, an email address and a gun. But I've never seen him with a gameboy or a playstation. We had a Wii on Thanksgiving and I don't think he even attempted it. I'm sure it was an age thing. I will admit, I didn't attempt it either but I have good reason. If I so much as blow my nose, I pee a little. So jumping around trying to dance dance revolution, would have required a depends.

My brother also not an over communicator. We don't have weekly (or monthly) phone conversations to catch up with each other. We don't email and ask about what is going on in each others lives. I think he may talk to mom and dad once a week or so. I also don't think he has weekly update phone calls with our sister (Kim).
Pretty much the only time we talk is to find out what someone in our respective family wants for their birthday or Christmas. And if maybe if there is a family crisis that one of use needs to be notified about. He did call me last week to ask me how to wrap Lil Smokies in bacon (crisis?).

I usually do my family updating with his wife Melissa via email or facebook. She fills me on his TV appearances (he's famous) and what is going on with their daughter Elizabeth.

I'm a facebook addict. If I don't get on it every night to see what my friends are up to, I can't get to sleep. I believe I actually can take some of the credit for talking my mom and my sister into getting an account.
It great for keeping up on what my sister and her family are up too. Mom, Kim, Kim's daughter Stefanie and Kevin's wife Melissa are all on my "friends" list.

I NEVER in a million years thought I would see the day my brother signed up for a facebook account.. I've had mine for a couple years now. I tell everyone they need a facebook account.
But Kevin on facebook, not a chance.

It's also a great way to keep up with extended family. An example of this is the Lind family. The Linds have not always been in our lives, but I can't for the life of me remember a time when they weren't. They are a combination of friend and family and none of them live in Illiois.. I've gotten to know Eric Lind better through facebook (we enjoy some occasional smart ass banter). This will all make more sense in a minute.

So when I got home from work today, I signed on to see what kind of day all my facebook peeps had. As I'm scrolling down the page reading status updates, I notice this "Kim Wettersten and Eric Lind are now friends with Kevin Rollins".
Huh???
I looked at my notifications. I didn't have a friend request from Kevin Rollins.
So I went to Eric's wall and commented on the notification "how is it that Eric Lind is "friends" with Kevin Rollins before his own sister?" Eric said it must have something to do with priorities. And informed me that the only person on Kevin's friend list before him, was my niece Stefanie..
Whilst in this conversation I sent my brother a friend request, to see if he would accept it.
Then it occurred to me. When you are new to facebook it "suggests" friends for you and then you have to go send them a friend request. Or you actually have to go looking for people you would like to friend. That means that my brother sent friend requests to my sister, my niece, Eric Lind and three other people (he had a total of 6 friends as of 5pm this evening).
Then suddenly appearing on my status updates is this "Bev Rollins is now friends with Kevin Rollins".
Hey?!?!? What am I chopped liver?? He sent at least 7 friend requests and none of them were to me.

I just checked again. He's up to 9 friends and still HAS NOT accepted my friend request.

This is what I think.. He's afraid. He knows that I can out-facebook and out-smartass him. He's afraid that if he friends me, I'll write something on his wall that will have him laying under the desk in fetal position sucking his thumb.
Therefore, I shall call myself the facebook queen.

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..

The fat lady is singing

I have a reputation for not showing emotion..
But today is my last day at Heatcraft and it's all slamming down on me..

As I drove into work I thought "this is the last time I'll make this drive".
and so it goes.
This is the last time I'll sign onto this computer.
This is the last time I'll walk down this hall.
This is the last time I'll get a cup of coffee from this pot.
This is the last paycheck they're going to hand me.
This is the last time I'll pee in this bathroom.
I'm deleting personal stuff from my computer.
Sifting through ten years of emails I've saved.
Packing up ten years of crap that has accumulated in my desk.

I'm getting goodbye emails, and goodbye hugs from people I thought didn't even like me..
So little miss "never let 'em see you cry", has gone through a box of Kleenex..

And if one more person says "what's your plan?", I'm going to scream..
I don't have a plan.. Not even sorta.. I know I'm taking January to get my shit together..
Will I go back to school? Will I try to find a job that pays what this one does?
Will I go be just an LPN? Will I be willing to commute to Champaign?
Will I accept that I have to take a pay cut, and adjust my spending habits?
I have no answers to any of those questions..

This is what I know.. I'm gonna buy a treadmill and get my fat ass off the couch..
I'm gonna clean out my closet.. I'm gonna watch Oprah and Ellen..
I'm going to do some stuff with my mom..
And I'm going to purge Heatcraft from my system..

And then I'm gonna panic.. And hopefully that panic will set my on the right path for the rest of my life..

So this afternoon when I walk out of the Heatcraft door for the last time,
I'll look back and smile, and then I'll look forward to the next chapter in my life..
Whatever that may be.

I was over dressed at Wal-Mart

Well I went to Wal-Mart over the weekend..

It's always been one of my least favorite places to be..
It's crowded, people are rude, and their "roll back" prices, really don't seem all that "rolled back" to me..
I avoid it.. About the only time I go, is close to Christmas and if I need a new CD (Besides Chart, there is nowhere in Danville to buy CD's. And Chart isn't open when I'm not at work)..

So I chased a Xanax with a tequila shooter and headed out to Wally Martins..
I've made a decision.. I'm going to go out there once a week for the rest of my life, and I'll tell you why..

After getting through the first 5 minutes of initial shock, I started to feel really good about myself..
I mean REALLY good..
I'm willing to bet my self-esteem went up by like 150 points..

Where do these people come from??? Do I really live in the same town as them??
Who shops in their pajamas??? Don't get me wrong.. I LOVE my flannel jammies.. And when I'm at home, I live in them..
However.. I would not go shopping in them.. I wouldn't even run to the gas station in them..

And here's the thing.. These people are wearing jammies to Wal-Mart, that they bought at Wal-Mart..
How does security know the difference.. They could put a brand new pair of Jammie bottoms on in the store and just say "I wore them in".. And if that's the case, can I walk out with a TV and say "but I was watching it when I walked in"..

But if you watch.. Some of these girls flit around in their jammies like they're a Victoria's secret model..

Ladies... there is nothing sexy about flannel jammie bottoms that have Betty Boop on them.. Especially when your morning mascara is running down your face and your bed head is poking people in the eye..

I also saw a man in shorts, several people without teeth, a bunch of women wearing clothes that were about 4 sizes too small and a few husbands on leashes..

I always frowned at the people that were lighting a cigarette as the doors of hell were opening to let them out..
Now I get it..

Counting down the days

I'm a little sad today..
I was called to human resources to sign my "release" papers..
I'm down to 7 working days at a job I thought I would retire from..
But it's kind of like when a loved one dies..
When someone dies unexpectedly, it's much more difficult on that persons family..
I believe I watched my grandmother die for over a year.. She had emphysema.. And it was a slow miserable way to die.. When she finally passed, it was almost a relief.. We had watched her suffer for so long..
The ironic part is.. The day she died was the very day I started at Heatcraft.. I came to work at 7:30 that morning.. She died at like 8..
I think the past 10 months have been like that (a long slow death) here at Heatcraft..
When they first made the announcement, I was in denial.. I figured it was no big deal, and was just going to be a nice severance package for me to live on, while I take my time figuring out what direction I'm headed..
I didn't realize the affect every person here had on me..
Whether I like them or got along with them, or not.. I was affected by all of them.. It really was a family.. And with every family, some siblings get along better than others..
There are less than 10 of us left now.. And as each person left, a piece of me left with them..
(and a couple of them keep leaving and coming back, taking with them even more pieces of me)..
We all say we'll keep in touch.. And we all might, for a while.. But eventually we'll get wrapped up in our new lives and Heatcraft will be a distant memory..
A few years from now, we might pass an old Heatcraft "sibling" at the mall (if there still is a mall).. We might smile a little or nod.. But we'll be thinking to ourselves "they probably don't even remember me".. Or it may even be us thinking "I know him from somewhere.. but I can't remember where"..
Signing my papers this morning, finalized things for me.. And it's bitter sweet..
The last few months have taken a toll on me.. My friends and family would confirm that.. It's been a long slow death at Heatcraft.. High stress with no reward.. I'm exhausted and tearful at all times.. Every conversation I have, somehow turns to me being consumed with the shutdown and unemployment (sorry everyone)..
It will be sweet to finally let that go.. The relief part of a long suffering death..
Walking away from 10 years with my Heatcraft family, very bitter.. and very sad..
And to all you Heatcrafters reading, or lurking (see "a frog and her blog"), if you see me at the mall, say hi..
If I don't remember you, I'll pretend like I do.... ;)

PMS or the bus?

Why does PMS get such a bad wrap??

First of all..
GENTLEMEN..

PMS = Pre menstrual syndrome..
PRE.. DID YOU HEAR ME? PRE.. LATIN FOR BEFORE, PRIOR, AHEAD OF, the menstrual cycle..

I utilized PMS this week, and it felt good.. Because yes I am PMS'ing.. And yes, I'm a wicked horrible person for like 3 days.. And yes, I am aware of it.. And no, do not offer me a Midol because I will rip your head off..

I think I mentioned that Andrew blew up his car.. But I didn't mention that he got laid off.. So this means he sits at home all day doing nothing.. And like most 19 year olds, he gets bored..
Two or three times a week, he calls to borrow my car (that I've had less than a year)..

The car owner in me can't stand to get that phone call.. I HATE the idea of him driving my car..
With his history, he couldn't get a driver's license until a few months ago. So he's a new driver, with a proven record of bad judgment.. And even though it's used, it's my new car..

But the mom side of me feels bad for him being stuck at home.. I know what it feels like to be without a car, and it sucks.. With the ADHD, no job to provide him spending money, and no car to get him anywhere.. He has to be miserable.. It would break my heart to turn him down..

Then I got this idea.. If he doesn't ask to use the car, I don't have to turn him down, and there is no guilt..

So.. He called Tuesday and wanted the car for the afternoon..
Okay, fine, whatever.. That means I go pick him up on my lunch hour and he brings me back to work..

I was already annoyed that he was cutting into my lunch hour (in walks the PMS), and even more annoyed that he was going to drive my car and use my gas. And I had no idea what he was going to do.. He told me he needed to pick his friend Brad up, so he could help Andrew move furniture.. A lame excuse that I fell for..
There is just too much stress to argue with him right now..

On the way from his house to Heatcraft, I was sort of ripping his ass.. Telling him not to move the seat, not to do anything illegal in my car, wear a seat belt, don't use an entire tank of gas.. blah blah blah..

He came to pick me up at 4:35 (late) and he had Brad (we call him B-Rad) with him.. I got behind the wheel.. The seat was moved (laid back in "gangsta" fashion). And it smelled like they smoked a pack of cigarettes in the 2 mile drive.
Just a mom needing a reason to bitch, and a kid giving me one...
I mentioned the amount of miles he put on the car, and lack of gas in the tank.. Really stupid stuff to complain about.. But PMS over-ruled my senses of logic and compassion.

Then I got this idea.. It was completely intentional, I planned it..
I said "Mommy's PMS is in full swing, you might not want to piss me off".. I could hear B-Rad sink into the back seat.. But without missing a beat, Andrew says "Thanks for the warning.. I'll talk to you next week".

I think my plan would have worked.. My mistake was.. I chuckled when he said that.. He has a great sense of humor.. and he really does make me laugh..
Guess who called today to use my car... (sigh).

My mom fell off a mountain

Some things you need to know before I tell you this story..
1) my mother is a realtor.
2) my mother knows Stephanie Carneghi (towing company) socially.
3) my dad was hunting near Springfield.
4) my mother is listed in my phone as "ice" which is an acronym for 'in case of emergency'.

I had just gotten out of the shower late Saturday morning.. Put on my long, furry, warm robe and sat on the couch next to my daughter.. I was trying to figure out if I could get away with hibernating for the day, because it was cold as hell outside..

So my phone rings and is says it's "ice".. You'll see the irony in this later..
I answer it and the conversation goes something like this.
Me: Hello.
Ice: uh, hi.
Me: What's up.
Ice: I have a little problem.
Me: uh, okay? what?
Ice: I was taking my client to see a house in Indiana.. It's up a long winding hill.. And we slid off the road. Now we're hanging off the side of cliff.
Me: What?
Ice: (repeats herself)
Me: (I yelled at Scott that he was going to have to go help my mom)
Ice: uh no, one person isn't going to help. (then I start to hear the panic in her voice).
Me: What about a tow truck?
Ice: I don't know (more panic).
There was a little conversation about calling Stephanie Carneghi, but mom didn't have a number for her..
Ice: well he's (the client) out of the car.. But he says I need to stay in the car because he needs my weight to hold it.
Me: The car is falling off a cliff, and he told you to stay in it?
Ice: Yes. But it feels like it's moving.
Me: What?
Ice: it's moving. the car is moving. (big panic).
Me: Get out of the car mom.
Ice: I don't know what to do.
Me: if the car is moving, get out of the car.. I've got to get dressed and we'll be there with a tow truck..

Then the panic sets in at my house.. I'm trying to get dressed, look up numbers, and bark orders at Scott and Ryleigh. Ryleigh is freaking out "what's wrong with my grandma".. She must have asked 5 times before I actually heard her..

So I call Kevin's towing.. I've dealt with them before, I like them.. but they don't go to Indiana.

Then I call Carneghi's because, after all Stephanie Carneghi knows my mom..
The conversation went like this.
Him: Carneghi's.
Me: Is Stephanie available?
Him: Who?
Me: Stephanie CARNEGHI?
Him: (in a very shitty voice) She has nothing to do with this company..
Apparently Stephanie and Mr. Carneghi divorced and she owns Carpenter's now..
So I try to explain to this jack ass what is going on..
I've dealt with him before too, which is a complete post in itself.
He was such a jerk and wasn't understanding the seriousness of the situation..
So I said "ya know what, forget it" and hung up..

I called Carpenter's..
Him: Carpenter's.
Me: Is Stephanie available?
Him: No, but I can leave a message.
Me: No, but I need help..
And I start to tell him the story.. Apparently the battery on his phone went dead.. But then some lady picked it up and started taking the information that I had..
I gave her the address and she yelled it to the driver.. and asked him if he knew how to get there.. He did.
She asked if the car was drivable and I said "I don't know, it's hanging over a cliff".
Her: what? (she wasn't in on the first part of the conversation).
Me: It's hanging over a cliff.
Her: (with panic in her voice) repeats this to the driver.
I can hear him say "she needs to get out of the car".
Me: I already told her that. But I'm not sure, she could be over-reacting.
Her: (to the driver) she could be over reacting.

We wrap up the conversation and I continue to get ready..

My phone rings.. It's ice.
Me: I'm on my way, and I'm bringing a tow truck. Are you out of the car.
Her: no, he (the client) says there is no danger of it going over.
Me: Alright, I'll be there in a minute.

It's a 22 minute drive, and I'm thinking I can't get there fast enough..
And when I do get there, is my mother going to be smashed at the bottom of a hill.

But we finally get there.. This is what I saw..
The green Ford Expedition had slid off the road into a small trench on the drivers side..
You know, like the rut on the side of a dirt road.. About 5 feet from the actual drop off..

But the truck was so big and my mom is so not.. So from the passenger side all she knew, was the truck is leaning (a lot) and all she can see from her seat, is the bottom of the drop.. She couldn't tell how far they actually were from the edge..
By the time we got there, she was actually out of the truck, and we were all able to laugh..

It took the tow truck guy about 45 minutes to get the Expedition out..
From what I could tell, the guy had tried to get himself out and spun his tires, digging the truck deeper into the rut..

And just for the record.. It didn't even occur to me to blog about this..
Until my mom said "oh great, I can't wait to see what you write about this"..
So here it is mom.. Just for you..

Drama Drama Drama

I can't believe how much drama there can be in middle school.. Ryleigh goes to a very small private school.. She has literally been in the same class with the same 20 kids since pre-school.. A few have come and gone, but there is a core of 20 students that have been constant.. I pick her up every day and as soon as we walk out of the classroom, the chatter starts.. EVERY DAY..

The conversation always goes something like this:
Brittney (all names are altered because I can't spell most of the actual names) is mad at me because I sat with Susie at lunch.. But during science class Susie told Billy I wanted to go out with him, but I don't.. I like him as a friend though.. but even if I did want to go out with him, I can't. Because he went out with Jenny and she's my friend and friends don't go out with each others ex's..
And then I was crying in the bathroom because Nicky and Tiffany were making fun of me because my pants were too short.. But I don't think they are mom, they cover the tops of my shoes..
They're just in 8th grade and think they're so much cooler than everyone else.. But they're fake mom.. They were talking to Christy, who's kind of chubby, like they were her best friend.. And then when Christy walked away, I heard Tiffany say "she's so fat and nasty".. That's so mean, I would never do that to someone (yeah right).
I think I want to go out with Tommy.. I'm going to have Angie ask him for me.. He already went out with Tammy.. But that's okay because I don't like her anyway.. But here's the problem mom.. Mom? are you listening?.. There are 12 girls and 8 boys in my class.. So the boys I haven't already gone out with, have either gone out with one of my friends, or they're just too gross to go out with..

And she says all that before we ever get out of the building..

Now I've sat back and watched this since the school year started.. And I think I can define "going out"..
Going out when your a 6th grade girl, is define by the level of ignoring you do.. If you're going out with someone, you ignore them more than every other boy. You don't ever talk to them or make eye contact.. If you're standing in the hall talking to your friends, one of them will say "here he comes".. At that point you giggle loudly, say something like "he really said that?", and flip your hair without looking in his direction.
And when playing dodge ball in P.E., you hit the person you're going out with, harder than you hit any other person..
When it's time to break up, you always have a friend do it.. And usually you have them do it via text message or email..

Andrew played ice hockey for 6 years.. Your rhino glands haven't lived until they've smelled the aroma of sweaty hockey equipment, sitting in the trunk of a car for three days..

Back then I referred to it as "boy funk smell".. And on a good day, you could actually catch a whiff of it wafting from his bedroom.. I truly did not know such a smell existed.. And I firmly believed there could not be another smell worse than that..
I was wrong.

Last night I was sitting on the couch next to Ryleigh.. I kept smelling something that took me back to youth hockey days.. Boy funk smell..
It wasn't constant.. Just an occasional sniff.. I was too busy voting millionaires off of TV shows to think too much about it..

When I told her it was bed time, she gave me some grief.. She always does.. And I usually wrestle her to the floor, or tickle her until she can't stand it.. We have a Kodak moment, and off she goes..
Little different last night.. I got her to the floor and it hit me.. Like this brick wall slamming into me.. My eyes watered, my throat closed, I think my skin crawled..

I've known for a couple years now that she had stinky feet..
We talk about it, she has to keep her shoes away from me, she knows she has to scrub her piggies daily.. It's not something we were oblivious to.. She has stinky feet, I call them her "stinkies", she laughs about it.. This would be the "funk" in dysfunctional.

But last night.. OMG!!!!.. I'm pretty sure my beautiful 11 year old girly girl, had stopped at a pig farm on the way home.. And then waded through a field of rotten feta cheese just before she came into the house..
They smelled so bad, I covered my face..

And what did she do??? She took her socks off and smelled them.. SHE SMELLED HER PIG POOP, FETA SOCKS.. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I have a genius on my hands..

In our wrestling, she managed to get her stinkies all over my couch pillow (I think she did it on purpose.).. I kid you not, after she went to bed, I could still smell it on the pillow..

I would throw it in the incinerator (fire place).. But I'm afraid a mushroom cloud will appear above my house..

The cat is still alive.. Although I think she's trying to kill herself.. about 3 minutes after Ryleigh went to bed, Tessa had her head stuck in the shoe that Ryleigh had worn to the feta field..

Anybody have a foot funk smell remedy?

Reality bites

My mom would tell you that I watch too much TV.. And I probably do..
I have two types of shows I watch.
I'm not sure what to call the first type.. Drama I guess.. The stuff you have to figure out..
House - trying to figure what mysterious illness his patient has..
Horatio - trying to figure out why the pool boy was impaled..
Grissom - playing with doll houses that contain precarious positions of dead..
Bones - boiling skulls to find murder weapons..
You get the idea.

My other favorite is reality TV.. The competitive ones, that start out with like 16 people and they get whittled away to just two.. Then America gets to vote for their favorite, or whatever.. You know the kind.. The Mole, Biggest loser, The Next Food Network Star, Survivor, American Idol.

So last night on Fox, they're premiering a new show called The Secret Millionaire (and since it was in the regular time slot for Bones, I guess I had to watch).. Multimillionaires go live in poverty for a week (a whole week? I can't imagine).. They have to interact with people in poverty, without revealing their own social status.. At the end of the week (It's actually only 6 days), they have to give away at least $100,000.00 of their own money (I have to wonder if Fox is paying them to participate)..

Anyway.. There were two episodes on last night.. The first one was a sorta goofy looking lawyer that probably weighed about a buck ten.. He was tall and scrawny and wore high waters.. With him, was his over privileged 22 year old guitar playing, hippy wannabe son.. I was prepared to be disappointed.. I wasn't.. It was actually a really great show (except for all the crying. It was like an Oprah and Home Edition tear fest)..
The second episode was a rich southern couple.. He had started a chain of Raising Cain chicken restaurants, she sold her McDonalds franchise.. blah blah blah..
Now they're supposed to be undercover and appear to be down on their luck.. Yet they pulled up in a Suburban. And during the whole show, she had her Vera Wang sunglasses perched on top of her head, and the $125.00 manicure kept flashing across the screen.
He was good though.. In a battered hoodie, serious 5 o'clock shadow going on.. He was looking a little rough.. Although he stumbled a little when he was asked where he was from.. (He said Virginia, but surely they noticed the tags on the Suburban said Louisiana.)
It was sort of like it was his idea to play, and he just drug her unwilling ass along..
She just rubbed me the wrong way..
I realized I watched too much reality TV when I said "She just needs to get voted off"..
But I think I'll make that a new catch phrase.. Whenever somebody does something you don't like "just vote 'em off"..