Two things

The peanut gallery at the meeting to decide what to do with Michigan and Florida's votes (as well as some of the committee members) made me physically ill. My husband kept promising that the Dems wouldn't screw it up, but they sure are giving it their best shot. Ugh!

I have not yet started Twittering, and I haved a wuestion. Is there any benefit in it for someone who cannot use the computer at work and tries not to be on it for long stretches at home? Just wondering.

Anybody want a couple or three cats?

"They" say that if you have multiple cats, you should have a litter box for each cat plus an extra. Well, we have three cats. Perhaps I simply lack imagination, but I cannot come up with a place for a third litter box, much less a fourth. Unless they start making "bunk boxes," we are stuck with two.

I scooped out the boxes just 2 days ago. I didn't expect it to smell like roses, but when I walked into the laundry room this afternoon, I thought I might fall down from the odor of urea. I emptied both boxes completely, washed them out, refilled them with new litter with added baking soda, threw out the little mat that is supposed to keep them from tracking litter out of the box, threw out the silly filters, and scrubbed the floor. I wasn't thrilled about this whole series of events, but the three cats watching me every step of the way (including through the window as I hosed out the boxes) really pissed me off. I think I said "fuck off" about 8 times, "I despise you" around 4 times, and "would you quit looking at me you furry beasts?" at least once.

Has anyone had any success potty training cats??

Short conversations

Sometimes the short conversations are as interesting as the long ones....at least to me.

Scenario #1
Sweetheart and I were watching numerous birds in the wet grass outside the window.

Me--They are just splashing around.
Him--They're looking for something to eat. Probably eating Spencer's shit.
Me--Well, at least that's better than watching Spencer eat his own shit.
Him--Yep, I guess so.

Scenario #2
Granddaddy is making the niece (age 7) and the nephew (age 4) go to the bathroom before leaving the house. (Remember those days?? "Everyone must pee before getting into the car.")

Nephew--Look, Big Sister, I can pee without pulling down my big boy pants. I just put my penis through this hole.
Niece--Not. Interested. (Moves on to the next thing without further response.)


***I feel just a bit bad about posting this before my sister even hears the story, but Pops doesn't have a blog, and she's been too busy to post much at her place.

Memorial Day Weekend

I have been interested in going to the Kerrville Folk Festival for a while, and this year we made it. We met one of my best friends and her boyfriend fairly late Friday. Sweetheart did an amazing job of packing the car and dropping Spencer off at the kennel before picking me up after work. We arrived around dinnertime, and had some mexican food and margaritas (only I had a daquiri since tequila and I had a falling out a number of years ago. Even before I finished a single one, I kept calling it a margarita even though it wasn't one. Sweetheart had to remind me.) My friend T and I picked up where we left off even though it's been way too long since I had seen her. This included silliness enough to embarass my tolerant husband.

The next morning we had waffles.

What, waffles where you live aren't shaped like your state?

After breakfast, it was time to get started on the cake. It was P's birthday, he plays guitar, and we were at a music festival. It seemed like the thing to do. I had gotten started at home since we were driving and they were flying.


I added the colors and T mixed them in--even when I managed to mistake yellow for red--or vice versa, I can't remember now--just that I did it wrong.


I used a piping bag for the first time with reasonable success.


I must say that Martha usually has a more conducive work station than we had to use.


However, I thought the finished product was pretty darn good. It's hard to see because I take snapshots and not Photos, but there is a pick guard and sound hole that are darker than the guitar body.


For some reason this picture reminds me of the Shake-and-bake commercial, "and we helped."


The birthday boy seemed pleased with the results.


As for the festival itself, I had a blast. I heard some old favorites and some new folks I really liked. There is a definite hippy feel to this festival compared to the one I have gone to the past 6 years. The tie dye is much more prevalent. They compost the trash. They do not sell any disposable cups. You can buy your own at a reasonable rate or bring one from home and have it filled at a price according to its size.

One moment I loved was seeing a fairly "girly girl" carefully study the biker guy in front of her and ask her mother to fix her bandanna "like his."


One artist was only 17 years old and very talented. He did have a bit more "angst" thank I generally enjoy, but his guitar playing, poise and interactions with the audience were really great. He quoted Dylan and sang a protest song about Pluto being stripped of its planet status. He had a great line about the president being upset, "What do you mean, I love that dog!" (as in Mickey Mouse) "Cheney, get the gun!"

Another musician had a great song about a baseball pitcher throwing a no hitter on a day he had mistaken for an off day and taken some acid. I have some research to do, but I believe it to be a true story. He said, "I think the fact that he now works as a drug counselor has something to do with the fact he has not responded to either CD I sent him."

What's a festival without a few craft booths, we both bought anklets...


And I bought some armadillo earrings.

They would be more accurate if they were upside down--I have never seen one that was't hanging out as road kill.

Another cool thing was that the festival cared not that we brought in two pitchers--one filled with homemade sangria and the other with homemade mojitos. This monkey that follows me around the country tried to steal one.


It was a great weekend. Sweetheart and I had a chance to relax and get away from everyday life, visiting with good friends seen far too seldom, and music in the scorching hot sun. Who could ask for anything more?

Teaser post

Two teaser photos of a wonderful weekend of music, fun, mojitos, guitar cake, and friends.

One of me and my hubby, and one of me and my fabulous friend from New Jersey who I don't get to see nearly enough. More to follow.

Frivolous food post

So, rather than post about how I had an anxiety attack in the middle of the night or other such stupid stuff, I bring you Sophie's food quirks.

Eclairs should have a custard filling, not icing.

Fruits and nuts do not belong in salads.

Oranges are absolutely delicious, but I never eat them unless someone else peels or slices them.

Mint ice cream should be pink or white. This does not mean I will turn down the green kind.

Spinach is wonderful. Other greens--mustard, turnip, and whatever other kind of greens ther are suck.

Liver is wrong. Not because of the taste, but because of the texture. I have eaten goose liver pate that made my knees weak.

Carrots and cauliflower should be eaten raw.

Broccoli and spinach should be eaten cooked.

Appropriate sherbet flavors include lime, orange, pineapple, and raspberry. Strawberry is incredibly inappropriate.

Pop tarts should be made in one flaveor only--strawberry frosted.

Beets should be eaten cold and pickled--not cooked.

The first person who ate cottage cheese must have been very hungry. It is not food.

The scary thing is that I was able to come up with this list in about 5 minutes. I'm not a picky eater, but it seems difficult to defend at the moment.

So, what about you. I know I'm a freak, but I also know I'm not the only one. Fess up, okay?

I must admit to being in a slump regarding commenting. I have read others state the same thing. I'm hoping to change that very soon.

Sweetheart and I are off for a weekend with one of my favorite friends and her boyfriend. Should be good.

Monday stuff

I do not like shopping for a bathing suit. However, shopping for bathing suits for two hyper 9 1/2 year olds isn't better...and it very well may be worse.

I have decided that I have been too grumpy, snipey, sleepy, weepy and jittery. Since those are not the dwarves that I prefer to be, it is time once again for a change. I made the phone call today to schedule an appointment with the shrink to adjust my crazy meds. I am looking forward to this about as much as I would having a bunionectomy or purchasing bathing suits for a dozen wired up kids. My shrink moved so I have to go see a new one. I don't think that's going to help, but perhaps this guy will have some ideas she didn't. My understanding is that Eff*xor is one of the worst drugs to withdraw from, so I know the process will be less than fun. I know it has to happen, so I'm gonna suck it up and deal with it.

When you think you have heard it all...

A child came into the hospital to have surgery, and during the history portion of the pre surgery interview, an interesting story came out.

The parent said that the child had had asthma when he was younger. The doctor advised that they get a chihuahua to help with the asthma. The family purchased one dog without effect. Then they purchased a second dog--also without restults. They purchased a third dog, and after a period of time the second dog was credited with "taking away" the asthma. Why did the second dog and not the third get the curing accolades? Well, the second dog was the one that started wheezing after the child stopped, so that pup is the one that did it.

We all noticed how "normal" the parent appeared, and marveled that while we had all heard some odd tales in our nursing careers, this one was right up there at the top.

A few minutes ago, before I started writing this post, I googled "chihuahua and asthma." Turns out this is a widely held belief, and not quite as unusual as we thought. Children often outgrow asthma, and chihuahuas often have wheezing and other respiratory problems. If the timing between the two things coincided, I suppose some might draw an inaccurate conclusion. I am always interested in the origins of superstitions and wives' tales, so I found this a bit entertaining.

I still "knock on wood" at the appropriate times, and I know that the "full moon" concept still seems to have validity more often than appears coincidental to me.

Any wives' tales you grew up with? Any you still believe?

I seem to be at a loss for topics

So you are getting a bunch of stuff that doesn't make a whole post.

I mentioned to my husband the other day that I had never and planned to never eat at Quizno's. I asked if he remembered why, and he said, "Some commercial." Of course I had to freak out and say, "Not just any commercial, it was that hideous, horrible commercial with those freakish hamster things!" He had no idea what I was talking about. I then found it on you tube and showed it to him. If you have never seen it before, I promise it is very scary. The creepy Burger King guy is my best friend compared with those furry freaks.

I had jury duty on Monday, and I was hoping to have a good story or two, but all I did was sit on an uncomfortable pew for hours and then be sent home. Other than the guys "sweeping" the grass when I walked by in the morning, I saw nothing interesting.

Last night we were watching television with the girls. Spencer, trying to match his job description as a canine, was sniffing Brownie's crotch. She said, "Daddy, Spencer is trying to go up the valley!" I've heard it called many things, but never that. She claimed to have made it up herself. Have any of you heard that before?

It isn't only kids who say the darndest things...

It started out as a regular day at the nursing home. My 86 year old mother-in-law told my husband where to put the flowers, and when he put them two centimeters off, she corrected him. She and her roommate gossiped about all their fellow residents. We waited for lunch in the dining hall. We were reintroduced to many people. Then, one of the workers came up to my mother-in-law and told her how cute and funny she was.

"I asked her if she was from the country because that's the only place she could come up with some of the things she says," laughed the worker.

"It's a good thing you're funny," I remarked, "because it makes up for the times when you are a pain in the neck."

"A pain in the ass you mean," replied my MIL.

I asked her what she had said to them that was so funny.

"Well, I was sitting with a bunch of them at the table and they asked me if I wanted another man. I told them 'No way. I'm old and cold and wrinkled in the hole.' They all laughed and didn't know what to say."

I am quite sure I don't know what to say either, except I wish I had known her when she was younger.

I hope your Mother's Days included some laughs as well.

I wish I had made this up

I had a patient today who was 12 years old. When she came out, the doctor said, "Before she wakes up, look at her panties." I thought that it was a bit odd, but one them was printed, "Don't Beg." I was and am more than a bit squigged out about it. Twelve years old, people!?!

Sigh.

I don't think therapy will help this....

I must be one of the weirdest people ever, but at least I know it. Last night we were watching television, and I found myself criticizing the font of Barack Obama's signs.

I just thought the "E"s were too wide. It doesn't look quite so offensive tonight.

Then came the baseball game. I found the letters of the Washington National jersey's a bit distracting. "I don't like the way the shadowing looks."

Again, it doesn't look so terrible tonight, but I'm looking at a static picture and not trying to watch a ballgame.

A few minutes later when I saw the cap, "See, it really doesn't go with that letter!"

I don't think there is a diagnosis for "Font Intolerance," but when things are that irritating, itis time to go to bed.

Today was better

I actually felt like a real mom today.

Blondie had a doctor's appointment, so I left work and drove to daycare. I had to wait 20 minutes for the girls to arrive, because I was in that "in between" travel time--too late to get them before they got on the bus--too early for them to have gotten there. We went straight to the doctor, where we waited the prerequisite amount of time.

We dropped the prescription off at the drugstore, picked up kid meals for them, dropped Brownie (with her change of clothes) off at dance class. Blondie and I went to the two stores the doctor recommended for the "excema approved" body wash. Neither place had it, but we bought the morning and evening allergy meds (two bottles--one for each household) and the most similar looking fragrance free body wash. She is no longer allowed to wash her hair in the shower--it must be done over the sink without the shampoo getting on her skin.

Then we rushed back to dance class and arrived just 5 minutes late. Brownie--being the actual dancer--was there on time. It was parents night at dance--all the details (three pages back and front) about the upcoming recital. My husband and the girls' mom arrived as the class progressed. Hubby, Blondie and I got to go into the room (instead of peeking through the window) to watch the performance. Brownie made a special point of asking Blondie to "please pause your shuffle so you can actually watch me this time." The fact that she noticed was only rivaled by the fact that Blondie complied and quickly.

We divvied up the purchased supplies for Blondie, we watched Brownie try on her costume, and I filled in their mom on the doctor's appointment. I am again so grateful that we have a very good relationship and work together where the girls are concerned. She and I were the last ones leaving the room and Blondie looked over her shoulder and gave us the best line of the day, said as only a preteen or teenager can, "Come on, mothers!"

Thanks to everyone for the words of support. They really have helped.

Wishing for answers

This has been a tough week for being a stepmother. Sunday morning, Blondie woke up with a terrible flare up of her excema. Her elbows were like leather, her face was swollen. She had patches on her neck and chest which I had not ever noticed before. The change from bedtime the night before was significant. Sweetheart and Brownie were going out to breakfast and to visit Grandma, and Blondie opted to stay home with me instead. As she sat with tears streaming down her face, scrunched up as close to me on the couch as physically possible (and this is the kid that isn't really the huggy-touchy type), I didn't know what to say. We bought new supplies of all the right lotions with extra "to go" sizes for her backpack. We have an appointment with her pediatrician tomorrow and with a dermatologist as soon as possible. She is much improved today, but I feel so helpless.

Fast forward to today. Brownie is tantrum-ish and touchy, and after much emotional outbursts, the root of the problem finally is uncovered. Evidently, the kids are teasing her because she has "a big butt." She certainly far more rounded than her sister (and most other not-quite-10-year-olds), but her butt isn't close to being big. She was weeping big, ugly tears, and my heart was breaking for her.

I say the things I think I should say. Kids tease because they want to take the focus off of themselves. Nothing they say has anything to do with what kind of person she is. We discuss the need to talk about these kinds of frustrations before they bubble over and get her into trouble. None of it seems enough.

I know how she feels. I was the kid who got glasses before anyone else in the class. I was the kid who was so skinny that my knees were the biggest part of my legs. I was the kid who the boy had to kiss in a game of truth or dare. I know what it feels like to be on the outside. I don't want them to feel that way. I know it is so much harder to be a kid today than it was 30 plus years ago.

I also know that no matter how hard it is to find the words to say, no matter how frustrating the behaviors these crappy feelings produce, no matter how often my husband and I disagree on the best way to handle things....I'm in it for the long haul. Having a stepmother isn't always the most favorite thing, but as long as I keep loving them and doing the best I can, we will all figure it out.

Wish me luck, I'm gonna need it.

You tube strikes again

This is one of the funniest things I have ever seen.

Engineer's Guide to Cats

My cats are not nearly so compliant or artistic--or should I say that their medium is audio rather than visual. I also could not possibly put one plate of tuna on the floor and not expect more than a little drama.

I really have to start buying tickets.....

...otherwise how will I win the lottery?

I remember the first couple to win the Georgia lottery. They said they were going to, "buy a double wide and move to Alabama." I said at the time, and I maintain the opinion that anyone that with so little imagination does not deserve to win millions of dollars.

Here's what I would do.....

Quit work. I'm sure I would volunteer fomewhere, but work a 40 hour week, absolutely not.

Build eco friendly houses in Atlanta and in Taos, New Mexico

Buy some insane European car for my husband--it would not be eco friendly.

Buy green cars for every day use.

Travel to Italy, Trinidad, Greece, every US National Park--that's just for starters.

Help out those in my family who are in my good graces.

Spoil my niece and nephew (and the two that are not yet born).

Investigate and donate to the most deserving charity for Autism Spectrum disorders. Or start my own. If I started my own, I think the focus would be on educational options that incorporated behavioral teaching for parents and kids.

Get a personal trainer and personal chef so I can be healthier and get rid of some of my excess poundage.

Okay, that's the list I came up with during the five minute bus ride before I was fully awake today. Those people in Georgia had a few days to come up with their brilliant ideas. It's been years, I guess I need to get over it, right?

So, what would you spend your money on?