Note To Self...

Note To Self: Tough Gal Card

2012-01-03T11:50:00.002-05:00

I am hereby giving up my Tough Gal Card.

Not ALL of it- just the part that says I am weather tough. 'Cause it is 30* here today, with 20mph winds whipping in off the coast and I'm freezing my ass off. Cold never used to be an issue- but it sure as shootin is an issue NOW.

That is all.

Note To Self: I Have Self Control.. I Have Self Control.. I Have Self Control...

2011-12-06T16:58:00.000-05:00

That was my mantra as I struggled through shopping for groceries today at my *favorite* store. (And if you believe ANY damn store right now is my *favorite*, I have a bridge to sell you too.)

Why the stress? Ohh.....

1) Children. Being IDJITS.
'Nuff Said there.

2) IDJIT SHOPPERS.
Ho-ho-holy CRAP even WITH IDJIT REPELLENT (a bigger IDJIT REPELLENT than normal too) in full display on my hip, the (patented) PISSED OFF EXPRESSION firmly planted on my tired face, people were STILL bumping into me, cutting me off, and in general acting like complete and utter slimebuckets. Seriously. THEN... we got to The Line. We had to stand in THE LINE for 20 minutes at least because this particular store does not believe in opening up extra check out lanes when the front of the store is busy. Oh no. That would be LOGICAL and they can not possibly use LOGIC. *facepalm*.... So as we are standing in THE LINE for freaking EVER (yes- it felt like for freaking ever with two children acting like loons in line with me) the people behind me were crowding. I swear-- I kid you not. Every time I inhaled, they inched forwards. I made a quick turn to my left and bumped slam into the creepy woman. Who glared at *me* for foxtrots sake! Y'all don't know just HOW close I was to flipping the F@CK out on her for getting up into my space.

By the time I got out of the dang store, I had pretty much had it. And THEN. The IDJIT old man standing outside ringing the bell for Salvation Army had to stop and ask me about the Glock on my hip. Some lame ass question about green stickers he had seen on other people's guns. For real man? Seriously? Can you not see my eye twitching, my rapid breathing? Hear the growl (or was that just in my head?) I have no freaking clue what other people are doing with their guns. I don't particularly give a rat's ass what other people are doing with their guns, as long as they are NOT pointing it at ME or my (rotten, idjit acting) children.

And guess WHAT! NOW I get to go BACK out into the World to pick up Dear Husband!!!!!! Ooooooohhhhhh boy.

Pray for me y'all. Pray. My eye is *still* twitching from the whole store thing. Loosing me on the general public right now is dangerous.

Note To Self: Motivation, Momentum... Death?

2011-12-01T14:12:00.000-05:00

Lately, I've had a bit of a problem getting truly MOTIVATED to do things- like ride my horse or even play horse.

The colt that is here decided to help get me motivated though, by behaving like a total jerkwad. Which ticked me off to no end. Which kicked me into gear to get his butt working and learning some M-A-N-N-E-R-S.

So far this week, horses have been worked here every day but the day I had a stomach bug.

Phat Boy has been ridden.
The colt has been religiously worked and hopefully today will be at least sat upon.

But I tell you what--- this motivation, that turned into momentum?

Is fixin to kill my old arse. Seriously.

The motivation did not just stop with the horses- it carried over into other areas and each day finds me packing in MORE stuff. The kids are brain tired at night (YAY), the house is cleaner, laundry done faster.. the list just goes on. By the time the Locust Brothers are sleeping at night, I sit on the couch with Dear Husband and drool on myself.

This motivation to momentum crap is surely going to either whip me into supreme shape (for an old beat to hell and back broad) or it is going to kill me deader than dead.

I guess time will tell. But right now.... I feel the need to go get into trouble with a 4 year old gelding in the paddock who neeeeeeeeds to be trained!

Note To Self: Idjit Repellent

2011-11-26T09:43:00.000-05:00

During the course of a conversation last week, a good friend questioned the insanity of "Black Friday" and whether or not I'd be attending any sales. *snork* NOT. Golden Hermit Status Rule Number One: NO ATTENDANCE OF BLACK FRIDAY SALES.

Once I looked up and confirmed the rule, we had a good laugh at the expense of others who are driven by this need to go hog wild on that day. I mean, really folks. Grow a brain. The sales are not really that great and there is a lot of bait and switch going on.

At any rate, I remarked that a "normal" shopping trip to the local MegaMart was bad enough- I could not imagine what craziness would overtake shoppers on Friday. I hate shopping. Despise it. Loathe shopping. Why does the bile rise in the back of my throat at each and every foray into the store? Because of the other people there shopping.

The ones who get in the way, are rude, smell horrible, and the ones who think the World Revolves Around THEM and THEM Alone.

Plainly said, it's the Idjits. I can't stand being around them.

My friend said, "Someone needs to invent IDJIT REPELLENT!"

We had a good laugh over that.

Shortly thereafter, our conversation ended as we both had things to accomplish. As I answered the ringing phone to hear the upset voice of my mother in law asking if there was any chance we had mini marshmallows...... I had forgotten what DAY it was. So as I answered in the negative (marshmallows.. ick) I offered to hunt some down when Dear Husband arrived home.

Still did not dawn on me what DAY it was, as I tooled on down the highway. I did wonder at the amount of traffic out.. and the crazed look on people's faces... but the DAY did not register until I made the turn and saw a line of cars a half mile long to the entrance of the local MegaMart. Oi vey- WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot had I DONE???

It was the freaking DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING.

People were going ape sh!t getting last minute supplies for the gluttony to come.

And I was right out in the thick of it. *facepalm*

But lucky for ME, I had my IDJIT REPELLENT on me.
It's a kit. Takes some skill to master. But it goes as follows:
- Master the Pissed off at the World Look
(This does wonders to start. People tend to move just from The Look alone.)
- Open carry a pistol.
(Wait- ONLY Open Carry if you live in a free state, have proper permits, and know how to use it.)

That's it. That is my secret to IDJIT REPELLENT. I have The Look down pat and when that is not enough to stop or slow down the coming confrontation, the Ruger mounted on my hip usually works wonders. The throngs of people parted like the Red Sea.

It was THE fastest I have ever been in and out of the MegaMart.

I do believe my Ruger shall be known hence forth as IDJIT REPELLENT.

Works for me!

Not To Self: If The SHTF....

2011-10-01T13:48:00.000-04:00

(*SHTF = Shit Hits The Fan)

I woke up the other morning thinking... how did my ancestors manage? How did they make bread with no fancy mixers? How did they manage to cook, with no ovens? How did they manage, with no super mega easy to get to mega store to buy staples like bread? Milk? Eggs?

Yep. Call me crazy, but *I* wonder how many people would make it if the SHTF ever DID happen.

A buddy of ours, in conversation about stock piles, laughed at his co-worker recently when the man listed off a HUGE list of supplies. The co-worker was very pleased with himself for having all kinds of goodies available that would last him and his family for ages.

When co-worker asked our buddy what he had stocked up, Buddy said.. "Nothing really. Just a couple guns and some ammo."

Co-worker asked, "Why is that? Aren't you worried? Don't you want to be prepared?"

Buddy said, "Nah. I'll just shoot you and take your supplies."

While I don't plan on shooting anyone (unless they screw with my supplies,) I decided that it was time for me to find a few things out.

So today, the Locust Brothers and I did just that. We searched a good bread recipe, raided my pantry and with no mixer or bread machine use, we are making bread.

We learned a lot.
1) Mixing up bread by hand is not for the faint of heart. It takes MUSCLES. Which I happen to have. Worked out well and it was quite a work out for me. Cub thought it was funny.

2) Flour flies everywhere. And it happens to be slippery on the floor. (Don't worry, I only busted my ass once to learn this. The second time was just because I had forgotten the flour was ON the floor and the resulting consequence. For the record, the flour did get cleaned up after that.)

3) Bread sure smells GREAT when it bakes in the oven. And it sure should TASTE great too. It damn well better- I put too much effort into making this damn mess and cleaning it up for this stuff to taste like crap!!

Listen for explosions folks. It's in the oven now... we'll see what happens from here. I'll update as we go.

9/11/01 - 9/11/11

2011-09-11T09:58:00.002-04:00

I met the sunrise this morning, with a weariness in my heart. A sadness that never *quite* goes away. In years past, the mornings leading up to 9/11 were met with a mixture of worry, fear and anxiety. Would THIS be the year? Would THIS be when they struck again?

Long time readers have come to expect the graphic images of that day, with emotion charged words reminding them- everyone- that we must never forget. We must NEVER. FORGET. Too many already have.

Oh sure- terror levels are "heightened" and the general state of awareness is maxed out, thanks to the terror threats placing all major US cities on high alert. I'm willing to bet though, that in a weeks time, the general populace will shrug their shoulders once again and say, "Yeah- that's what I thought. Nothing is going to happen HERE." Guess what kids-- that same thought is what made the FIRST 9/11 possible. Just sayin'.

It was with *vast* amounts of utter disgust that I first read that idiot Mayor's statements from NYC barring any clergy or first responders from the ceremonies at today's dedication of the Ground Zero Memorial. What? Are you KIDDING me? Oh no says he, *OTHER* ceremony will be held "At a later date in other locations" for the brethern of those we lost that day. Here's a thought for you, Mayor man--- what if those first responders had said, "Yeah- no. I think we'll respond some other day, another time, in a different location."

But they didn't.

And THEN that man had the nerve to say, "Stop calling it Ground Zero!"

(And people WONDER why I left NY, never to return again.)

I'll never forget what I was doing, where I was, who I was with on that fateful day. Never forget the feeling of helplessness, hoplessness. Fear. Overwhelming sadness. Worry.

Anger.

Anger at how supposed "leaders" of our great nation have chosen to handle this sacred day. Anger at how many citizens of this great country have gone out of their way to forget.

This post was going to say how my life changed in the ensuing ten years. Instead I find the weariness in my soul taking hold- a desire to soak up the sun. To listen to the horses eat hay, the DAT purr beside me, the Locust Brothers playing in the bushes. I hear the traffic passing by on the highway. Sounds from the neighbors building next door. Murphy, panting in my ear. Porch Cat, perched on the rail rumbling away. I find I don't want to talk about things. I don't want to stir that ember back to a roaring flame. Instead, I think it is time to quietly remember the people I knew, that we lost that day.

May We Never Forget.

Mrs Mom
III

Note To Self: The Blame Game (Don't Read This To Your Children.)

2011-09-06T21:41:00.000-04:00

Tragedy struck an iHOP in Nevada today. My thoughts and prayers are with all involved. (Hey did you know that I won't go to iHOP? No? Well, where WE live, EVERY.SINGLE.IHOP. *MUST* have an armed guard working. An Armed Guard. At freaking IHOP. Why is that? Only because the natives get restless and decide to shoot the shit out of ALL of them on a routine, rotating basis. Looks like fucknuthwackadoodle in NV took a page from the fucknutwhackadoodles here in the Southland and picked-- ta-da-- an iHOP. God bless the folks who work there. And be with the families of those lost today.)

(In case you had not noticed, this post is going to be riddled with sarcasm and will most assuredly offend people. If you happen to be easily offended, or if you are anti- 2A, then you might need to hit the back button or the little red X up in the top right hand corner.)

It's bad enough that some fucknutwhackadoodle just HAD to go in and shoot uniformed National Guardsmen.

It's bad enough that the same fucknutwhackadoodle just HAD to go and shoot those uniformed National Guardsmen during the week leading up to the ten year anniversary of 9/11.

And HERE is where I am getting really upset.

People are going to once again lay ALL the blame to the Evil Black Gun, an AK. (NOT to mention the fact that the news always calls ALL rifles an AK. News peeps would not know a Mosin Nagant from an AK from an M4 from a combat shotgun from a kids BB gun for fucks sake.) Yes. I am saying the "fuck" word here. Don't be reading this aloud to your childrens.

Folks, if GUNS kill people then a SPOON made Rosie O'donnell a fat ass. (I don't know what to blame for her lack of intelligence though.)
If guns kill people, then my pencil misspells words.
If guns kill people, MINE IS DEFECTIVE because it has never once jumped out of my holster or out of my arms to randomly attack anyone.

We have AK's at the shop.

AND-- brace yourself!!

WE.
SELL.
THEM.

Oh the HORROR!! We Sell EVIL BLACK GUNS At The GUN STORE. OH THE HORROR!! We must be ....... *gasp* Dare I say it???

We Must Be....

DEATH
MERCHANTS.

How DARE we arm the general populace in these trying times of steep unemployment rates, desperation, and deep running deeply rooted fears. How DARE we give people a chance to own an assault rifle. How dare we encourage people to actually learn about ALL forms of firearms.

Go ahead. Blame it all on us Evil Black Gun Dealers.
Blame all the incidents on AK's, the King Of Evil Black Guns (even if the firearm was an M-14, M-16, Shotgun... you get the idea.)
Be sure to give EXTRA blame to any gun store employee/ owner, because, you know-- all we are doing at our jobs everyday is polishing guns and listening to the voices in our heads and passing the messages along to customers to go and shoot the shit out of places and kill people.

Lay the blame on everywhere but where it SHOULD be-- on the asshole that made a conscious decision to take his Evil Black Gun and go and shoot people. His GUN did not whisper to him, "Turn me loose!! Let me go shoot those Guardsmen!!" The local Federally Licensed firearm dealer did not tell our dear little fucknut, "Go get those people at IHOP!"

No. Something in that jackwagons own BRAIN told him to commit such a horrendous act.

Why, I bet even ol Rosie's spoon did not whisper sweet nothings to encourage her to pack on the pounds. SHE made that choice. Just like fucknutwhackadoodle made HIS choice.

You know WHY I carry? WHY I have what is considered an assault weapon myself? Why I encourage people to learn how to use them? BECAUSE WE GOOD GUYS HAVE TO BE ABLE TO COVER OUR ASSES TOO.

When seconds count, the cops are at best minutes away. SWAT? Yeah.. lots longer. The ability to cover MY ass and my CHILDREN weighs heavy on my mind at all times. I take the responsibility of keeping my sons safe and ALIVE very seriously. (And amazingly, the news story I read said that the police responded to reports of gunfire in MINUTES. It of course, also had to use incorrect nomenclature, but what does one expect from the media? Alas, not complete or proper information...)

So continue on America-- play the Blame Game and lay allll the blame on lawful firearms dealers all over the country. Lay the blame on the EVIL BLACK GUNS we sell to law abiding citizens. Lay the blame everywhere but where it needs to be, square on the shoulders of the mind that made the decision to pull the trigger and kill innocent people.

Because, you know, it is all our fault. If there were no law abiding Evil Black Gun dealers selling semi-automatic weapons and assault rifles, why, there would be no incidents like what happened today ever again. Right?

Note To Self: Shotgun, NOT Ruger, for Snake Issues!

2011-08-26T12:27:00.000-04:00

Dear Self, whose ears are STILL ringing... Next time there is a snake headed for your pepper plants and you insanely decide that the snake needs dispatching.....................................................

Be smart.

Grab the shotgun FIRST. It happens to be loaded with the right type of shot to kill a snake.

The Ruger? Not so much!

Gun powder therapy comes in many forms. Right down to holes in the grass from shooting the snake. And scaring the snot out of the neighbors. (My Mother In Law and niece found it amusing. They stood on the porch chanting, "Shoot Elizabeth! SHOOT!")

Least they know don't mess with me... I won't quit until you are DEAD!

Note To Self: One Of THOSE Days

2011-07-11T16:55:00.000-04:00

WHY is it one of THOSE days?

Well for starters, when I got up this morning, my brain was in overdrive. I can't make it STOP and be QUIET for two seconds and it is making me ummm... difficult to live with at the moment according to the Locust Brothers.

Next, I printed off the course information for my next bout of schooling... and read through it... and promptly started hyperventilating. Holy crap is there REALLY any way I am actually READY for this????

Thirdly, Murphy is recovering from her spay on 8 July. Except SHE thinks she IS recovered and keeping her from bouncing off the walls is making us ALL nuts.

Fourth on the list is Dear Husband and his back. Yes- it is messed UP. It *had* been OK... so he over did it. Guess what. He is in agony. AGAIN. *muttermumblemutter*

And lastly-- it is one of those days when I open the freezer, pantry and fridge time and time again in a desperate attempt to sort out what the HECK is for supper tonight.

Still no answer there.

AAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH... *watch out for frantic hair pulling*

Note To Self: No Translator Needed

2011-06-30T13:12:00.000-04:00

How to tell if you have lived in your unique region long enough?

When you don't need a translator.

In our house, we enjoy watching SWAMP PEOPLE. ("Shoot him, Elizabeth, Shoot!!") The producers feel the need to have subtitles on the screen as some of the Cajuns are talking. It dawned on me a couple weeks back that... the translation was not needed. I could understand everything that was being said.

It isn't just the Cajun's on the tube-- I can understand the local accent that is prevalent in our area of the Southland.

Look as that would ya. I haz a new talent!

What's yours? Do you need the little subtitles? Or a translator?

Note To Self: The Shower... It's Not Safe!

2011-06-21T17:32:00.000-04:00

It's starting.

It's starting early.

The five year old child, who used to have to be *made* to take a shower and scrub and rinse himself...

Has now in the past 2 days taken THREE showers. On. His. Own.

No encouragement from me. The Boy just pops into the bathroom, and next thing I know the shower is running. That did not happen with my favorite brother Shorty until he was a teenager. Shorty, I think Wrecking Crew is getting a jump start on you!!

Now if y'all will excuse me, the shower has been running for 10 minutes. I do believe that is plenty of time for a 4' 6", 50 pound child to be scrubbed clean. A mild "suggestion" needs to be made to encourage him to step on out.

(And if you thought I was going to wander to the kitchen sink and turn on the hot water, or go in the bathroom and flush the toilet, you're RIGHT! MUWAHAHAHAHA)

Note To Self: Ice Cream + Hot Weather =

2011-06-20T17:46:00.000-04:00

Feeling Sick.As.Hell. while out bathing horses to cool them off.

I have not had any ice cream in a while. Actually, a LONG while. The resulting "sugar rush" was somewhat... gross actually, but going out to work in 115* heat about an hour after eating? Yeah..

Very.
Bad.
Idea.

Very. Bad. Idea Indeed.

Might be swearing off ice cream for a while now. Ugh.

Note to Self: Buy More Dog Food

2011-06-13T12:40:00.000-04:00

Because when your five year old gasps out, "Holy Shit Mom, we're almost out of Dog Food!" while you are drinking your first bit of morning java, you wind up spitting some through your nose.

Which is a waste of good coffee.

Never mind how it burns a bit shooting from your nostrils.

Note To Self: WEAR DAMN SHOES!

2011-05-28T11:54:00.002-04:00

Self, you KNOW full well that after a dry spell is broken with wonderful rains, the fire ant colonies get seriously stirred up and pitch mega fits, roaming about in frenetic activity. You KNOW this for a fact, as you have witnessed it time and again during the five years you have lived here.

So WHY Self, did you take Murphy out last night, sans sneakers?

Did you really NEED to get sucha graphic and PAINFUL reminder that the ants would be out trying to relocate and rebuild?

Dumbass. It is a good thing that you at least remember how to treat ant bites Self, otherwise wearing your sneakers today would not be a possibility.

(Tip for those who do encounter ticked off little stinging bastards... I mean ants: menthol. Rub menthol on the stung areas right away. I use MAXX FREEZE, which is what I apply to my back when it locks up. Takes the burn out, eliminates swelling, AND stops itching instantly. Thank Heavens for MAXX FREEZE!)

Note To Self: Gotta Cash In On THIS Idea

2011-05-09T15:47:00.002-04:00

Birth Control.

Yes, yes, I am well aware that there are many various forms of it available.

I'm talking about a whole 'nother perspective on it.

You need a couple things:
First, two wild boys preferably close in age.
Next, you need a young puppy.

Have the prospective "parent" take the above, and manage them for say... five days. (If it is a full moon, make that five HOURS.)

How much do you wanna bet that there would be no off spring from the prospective parent for quite some time, if ever?

There may be possible side effects- uncontrollable facial muscle twitching, stammering, an inability to close your eyes even to blink, non-coherent speech, weight loss or weight gain (stress may drive you to eat more, not to mention drink. Heavily.)

Bet if I could figure out some way to market that idea I'd be a very wealthy woman...

Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

2011-04-19T14:31:00.002-04:00

When it gets too warm to be comfortable outside (ie: when breathing feels like you are sucking in blazingly hot air through a heavy wet towel,) the Locust Brothers and I abandon our outside pursuits to come in and enjoy the AC. During that time, I allow them to watch the 'tube.

Apparently something on the 'tube stuck with six year old Cub well...

Sunday, Dear Husband had the day off and he and the boys trooped along on a client call with me. They explored, talked to some really cute goats and a very handsome jack donkey, while I trimmed. The exploring was hard work, as just as we were about ten minutes from home, we hear a big sigh from the backseat.

I knew I shouldn't ask, but.... yeah.. it's that whole "Mommy" thing and all.

"What's the problem?"

Cub pipes up and says, "It's my lumbago! It's KILLING me!"

Dear Husband looked at me and I had to repeat what Cub had said for him... we tried not to crack up- I mean, do we really want to laugh THAT HARD at the poor kid right there in front of him? (Yeah... we did...)

Later on Dear Husband asked me where the heck the child had heard that one. Seems it was from one of the cartoons, as I recall Cub asking me what lumbago was... and I explained "It's back pain".

Yep. The signs are pointing early to a creative child..... who has lumbago....

Note To Self: Storms + Jo = MESS

2011-03-30T12:30:00.002-04:00

Self, when you have the following things all mixed up together:

1 Busted up big toe
1 Jo the Wonder Nanny Dog who is TERRIFIED of thunderstorms
1 Day of never ending thunderstorms

You wind up with:
Pain.

WHY do you wind up with pain?

Because Jo is too terrified to think. She cannot get out of her own way, nevermind avoid your feet. Why is Jo tromping all over your feet? Because all 70 plus pounds of her *MUST* follow you around at all times. Because Mommy is SAFE. Mommy will SAVE her. *rolls eyes*

At least I can prop my foot up. And take ibuprofen. And it hurts to badly to chase the damn dog and kill her.

So lesson learned? Don't break toes. It's a pain in the ass!

Note To Self: Life Lessons From The Pea Patch

2011-03-17T13:31:00.002-04:00

I've been puzzled lately at my recent can't-sit-still, got-to-move-and-DO things change. Spring Fever? Denial? I don't know- but yesterday while toiling in the garden, several things came to mind.

First, is Johnny Reb. He has been the topic of conversation in our home for endless days now. We are all consumed with worry over his continued decline. One of the biggest questions we hear is, "How old is he?" Johnny Reb is only 68. Entirely too young to be leaving us already in our eyes. He and Granny should be cruising around on the back of that tryke, seeing the country. They should be off playing and exploring. They should be living life LARGE and having a blast together.

But they aren't. Their adventures are limited to the new facility Johnny Reb had to be moved to yesterday, and getting to know the staff and residents there. Seeing his downward spiral brings a stark reminder of our own mortality. It all sounds like a cliche (because it is-- Live Life to the Fullest and all that jazz,) but those worn old phrases apply oh so well.

You know those dreams you have? Well, for what it is worth from this little corner of the world, you'd best get busy living. Because you never know when you'll be getting busy dying, leaving all those marvelous things left undone, words unsaid and valuable lessons unlearned, unshared and not enjoyed with your loved ones.

That is probably a big part of my restlessness of late- I don't want to sit on the edge of my bed, wishing for more time to go and do. To play with my kids, ride the pony, plant the garden, learn to use the smoker, or any other dream we may come up with large, small or in between- time is short. Life is a Gift. It's why it's known as The PRESENT. Open it up and dive in-- and live each and EVERY second to the utmost.

So, I opened the Present. The kids ride and "play pony" for at least two hours every day. Our tiller is broken, but I still wanted a garden. Guess what-- I've got a garden going. Improvise, adapt and overcome. Apply that to all those things that frustrate you to no end, and see where it leads you. Hopefully my stubbornness will lead me to peas, lettuce, radishes, squashes, watermelon and cukes. Oh and maters. Can't have a summer with out fresh maters from our own garden.

Get up. Get away from the damn computer, television, telephone, cell phone, video games, movies, technology. Get out in the sun. Survey your world. Dream BIG. Dream Small- but dammit, dream and make them come true one way or another. Don't impose limits, and don't let anyone else impose them on you either. It is YOUR life- your Present, your Gift.

Get Busy Living.

Because when your time comes to Get Busy Dying,

Its

Too

Late.

And those words and about $5 might can get you a cup of coffee from Starbucks..... It's your decision folks. Live it or lose it.

~MM

Note To self: Thank You, Pawn Stars

2011-03-11T20:06:00.002-05:00

Before bedtime last night, the Locust Brothers were playing "store". Apparently, Cub decided to open a pawn shop, because they very seriously asked me what "pawn" meant.

Dear Husband and I watch Pawn Stars. It is a show we both love, and learn from. One of the biggest reasons we watch is because of the knowledge Sean Rich of Tortuga Trading imparts every time he is on. All this to say, the boys watch with us often. And apparently, they absorb quite a bit too.

In the course of play, Wrecking Crew took in a pistol to pawn. He and Cub worked out a deal, where Cub would loan Wrecker $200 and Wrecker would pay him back a total of $281. Cub giggled evilly to himself as he looked over the revolver, and Wrecker went on off to play. He "drove" around the living room, pulled up to the "ATM" (located in the entertainment center), and returned to the "pawn shop" to pick up his gun.

Next thing we know, they changed the deal. Wrecker agreed to sell Cub his revolver for a small sum, and Cub was planning on selling it for a profit.

A big profit.

The evil laugh came again from the "store" as Cub plotted a price--- of $80,000.

Only my guys. Never a dull moment!

Note To Self: Normalcy?

2011-03-04T18:00:00.002-05:00

Technically, this could be three or four Notes To Self, but why not be adventurous and cram them all into one?

First, for those who say our lives can now return to "normal", be advised- living in a state of utter chaos and uncertainty *IS* a "normal" state for us. Finding out what a new "normal" may be.. well, that is proving interesting to say the least.

Second: How To Tell If Your Horsai Husband Has Been Away From Horses Too Long:
As I climbed into the truck yesterday, my Dear Husband wrinkled his nose and said, "Whew- what stinks?"

Here's yer Sign... I had spent the day trimming horses. *I* was what stunk.

Last but not least, no, 500 pound founder pony, you do NOT need to try and use my forearm as a stepping stone to escape from your pedicure time.

(No, she did not crunch my arm to the ground- she quiet literally stood on my arm as it was in the air attempting to block her forward movement. Silly pony, still got her pedicure.)

Note To Self: Grant Yourself Permission

2011-02-26T12:40:00.002-05:00

In times of crisis, it really is OK to take a breather. To rest, regroup, gather up thoughts and energy.

Play with your dog, ride your horse, listen to your kids laugh and giggle- but make sure to take the time each day to seek the peace and quiet so that you may continue to be able to drive on, Cowboy Up, and see the job through to done.

Note To Self: On Failure

2011-02-17T10:27:00.002-05:00

You Have Not Failed Until You Quit.

You
Have
Not
Failed
UNTIL
YOU
QUIT.

I don't know who said that, but it was reverberating in my mind this morning when I woke up. Which started me thinking on a few things, and reawakened a sleeping drive. Where will it lead? I don't know. But I plan on jotting it down in several very visible places as a reminder to myself.

Never quit. Never give up. Drive. On.

Note To Self: Ponies Bring Happies

2011-02-11T17:02:00.003-05:00

It is damn near impossible to have a heavy heart,
misery,
crankies,
or any other mean streak,

When there is a large pony,
Two kids,
Abundant sunshine,
and
Time.

Yep. Sweet breath, a soft muzzle,
Willing nature,
and Big, Kind Eyes

Make it possible to see the world in a whole new light.

Amen.

Note To Self: Screwed

2011-02-08T13:54:00.002-05:00

Self, there comes a time when you must undo screws.

Battery operated dreams on wheels for Locusts was YOUR time.

Actually, this should be a note to the designers of battery driven cars for kids. A) You need to improve the battery design some, so that the vehicle can be driven for more than 20 minutes, and B) Please. Don't put the battery under the seat where the child perches. Because those seats are attached to the frame by long plastic screws. That a parent has to UN-screw to get the freshly charged battery back in place, so that the children may drive for another twenty minutes.

Of course, since Dear Husband put the car together, Mrs Mom had to spend twenty minutes sorting out where the battery went, and how the hell to get it in place. I'm telling you -- it was a comedy of errors.

Why?

Wellllll....

We got the car (Momma Fargo- it is a Dodge CHARGER po-po car too!) on Sunday. When the sun was shining and the weather was GRAND. the battery needed to charge for a full 24 hours, and the Locust Brothers were all set to drive on Monday. The weather had other plans though, and the Charger needed to be tucked into some sort of shelter, to prevent it from being rain damaged. (Read: Cub heard the weather forecast, and was *extermely* worried about "his" new car getting wet. Which means a look passed between Dear Husband and I... and we brought the car into the house.)

Now, having the Charger safely tucked in out of the weather was fantastic. It didn't get wet, the kids were entertained (from about 5:30AM until bedtime) by sitting in it and pretending they were driving at speed chasing Bad Guys.... and it was all great.

Except for one small detail.

Dear Husband had to go to work today, the day after torrential rains. Since the sun is shining, the Locust Brothers were ready to roll.

Which means MOM had to get the car out of the toy room. (Down a narrow hallway, to the front door, by myself.) And out into the sunshine.

Of course, *I* thought we'd be golden once the car hit the porch, because I could just wheel it down the ramp, into the yard.

NOT.

Twenty minutes later, the Charger was in the yard.

Thirty minutes after that, along with holes bitten in my tongue to keep from cussing, the battery was in and the race was ON.

Cub hopped in his ride, and stomped his foot to the floor.

And his big brown eyes about fell out of his head as the Charger leaped forward at near sub sonic speed. Wrecking Crew, standing in the grass next to me, started laughing so hard he had to make a mad dash for cover to prevent a puddle in his pants.

Cub came to a screeching halt in front of Wrecker, and encouraged him to hop in.

And that was the last I saw of the two brave officers- they sped off into the sun, in hot pursuit of a vicious criminal. Sirens blasting, radio blaring, with a maniacal gleam in their eyes the Locust Brothers were out to Protect and Serve.

They should be home by supper time. Or when the battery dies.

Note To Self: One For My Husband...

2011-01-23T09:37:00.002-05:00

Once in a while, I feel the need to call my amazing, hard working, driven, charismatic, hard working and just downright adorable husband on his cell phone. (Yes. We have a cell phone. Don't ask.)

This is an indicator that he has been working TOO hard though.

*Ring ring... ring ring...*

"Gun Range this is Dear Husszz.... oh. Wait. umm... Hello?"

Yep. I called the other day ago to ask my sweet hard working man a quick question and he answered his cell like he does the Range phone.

I see a need for time off soon....

Note To Self: Heard Here Today

2011-01-12T14:43:00.002-05:00

I was in the bathroom, cleaning and tidying up. Both Locust Brothers were outside playing and being boys.

*Front door opens* In comes Wrecker.
"Mom, have you seen Cub?"
"No honey, I haven't. Is he missing?"
"We're playing hide and seek, and I can't find him."

Now, I knew something had to be up, because I'd heard Wrecker outside calling for Cub for almost five minutes.

"Hmm... well, did you look under the pool on the front porch honey?"
"Nope. I'll go check there."

Out the door he goes.....
I hear noises from the front porch......

And then... from the mouth of my almost-five-year-old:
"You. Bastard. Where the HELL are you Cub??"

*sigh*
Y'all, I am in SO much trouble with these two....

Note To Self: One For The Guys

2011-01-05T17:22:00.002-05:00

Fellows, if you HAPPEN to fall in love with/ develop a relationship with/ marry a horse woman-- Do. NOT. Under ANY circumstances.

Think.
That.
YOU.
Can make HER.
Give Up Her

HORSE.

EVVVAAAAA.

And if you DO badger her into getting rid of her horse, and she should happen to LEAVE YOU,

Do Not Be Surprised.

Forcing any woman to give up something she loves is an undertaking best done with full awareness that Bad Things Might Happen as a result. BUT-- "forcing" a HORSEwoman to give up her horse? Yeah... you can guaran-damn-tee Bad Shit WILL Happen In A BIG WAY.

Just sayin'.

(No- this is NOT in reference to Dear Husband and I currently being horseless. I am currently horseless because THAT horse is not available at the moment. He currently has an amazing home... and all I am doing is hoping he comes available. Dear Husband knows full well that "forcing" me to be horseless will result in all sorts of Very Bad Things, and he is a Wise Man. Nuff Said.)

Note To Self: It's The DAT'S First Christmas!

2010-12-14T09:17:00.003-05:00

This sweet, green eyed, smiling, adorable face belongs to Kitty Biscuits, AKA: DAT.

DAT is my sweetheart, and I love her VERY much.

This is our Christmas Tree. Yes, it's short. But we have a small small house. It fits. The Locust Brothers worked Very Very Hard decorating our tree yesterday, and it looks wonderful. I love the tree too.

DAT has discovered the tree.

While occupied in the loo this morning, I hear funny little rattling sounds. Upon exiting the smallest room in the house, I see the DAT.

Chasing about decorations.

She had denuded about half the bottom branches in a very short amount of time.

This is going to be a very interesting two weeks. Anyone betting on how long it takes to train the DAT to leave the tree alone??

Note To Self: Have A PLAN!

2010-12-13T21:28:00.002-05:00

Because going to the grocery store, while HUNGRY?

Is

Nothing

But

Monumentally

Stupid.

Because I did not have children with me, and because I was *starving*, and because there were bits and pieces of things we needed, and did I mention I was *s-t-a-r-v-i-n-g*? I spent two. hours. TWO HOURS. HolyStinkinCrap--- TWO BLASTED HOURS--- in WallyWorld today.

Do you know what HAPPENS in places like WallyWorld this time of year?

Very Strange People come out of the woodwork. Just trust me-- They. Were. Strange.

But on the plus side, (and there is ALWAYS a plus side these days,) we have enough groceries in the house that IF the Locust Brothers lay off snarfing down huge amounts of food every hour on the hour- we should not have to go to the store and get a ton of groceries next week. Christmas week. Yeeaaahh... no way in hell you are going to get me in a store next week!!

Wish me luck. And please, PLEASE-- pray that the eye twitch from braving WallyWorld today Goes. AWAY.

Note To Self: Words From The Bathroom

2010-12-09T12:25:00.002-05:00

"Hey Mom! I pooped out of my butt!"

Last time I checked, that was where poops were supposed to come from on a four-almost-five- year old.....

*sigh*

Note To Self: How To Feel Better

2010-12-02T11:28:00.002-05:00

Most times, I vote for going to the range and blowing sh*t up.
Or, going for a ride and hauling butt across a big field.

But when those are not options, try this instead!

Crush some nuts!

(For BAKING. What the hell were YOU thinking??)

Note To Self: DAT Thinks We Are Crazy

2010-11-29T11:59:00.002-05:00

She has a point though- most days doubting our sanity is a smart thing to do. We do, after all, have two wild children.

Today, as the Wild Children and I (and Jo the Wonder Nanny Dog) walked our almost 2 miles, DAT decided she had to see what the fuss was about. And she joined us. For a little bit. Once she realized we were merely walking up and down, up and down, up and down the road, she decided to liven things up.

By hiding in the ditch in the weeds, and POUNCING at us. Or letting us walk by and then running as hard as she could down the road after us, and past us. (Did you know that 8 pounds of fluffy fuzzy butt cat/ DAT can make thunder on a paved road? No? Well, they can...)

As we finished up our walk, DAT raced ahead of us, teasing the poor pathetic worn out exhausted Jo the Wonder Nanny Dog mercilessly. Her tiny pink tongue poked out of her mouth as she panted away. She scampered into the house, straight to the water bucket, drank her fill, and then collapsed on the floor.

In front of the dog.

Rolling around, trying to get the dog to play.

(The dog was too tired. DAT could have pounced on her head and all she would have been able to do was lay there and take the abuse.)

Yep. DAT thinks I am plumb crazy. (Which I am.. so she's right.) But she should know- cause it takes a crazy to know a crazy....

Note To Self: No PDA!!

2010-11-28T10:20:00.002-05:00

That's right- DAT says "DAD! No Public Displays Of Affection!! You have to meet me on the washing machine for that!"

Crazy little cat. Pet her in the living room? She'll turn around and give you the DIRTIEST look. Head to the washing machine though, and once she hops her fuzzy chubby butt up there and she'll about turn herself inside out for petting and attention. Her little paws go into overtime making kitty biscuits, her tail swishes back and forth so fast that it's hard to see it, and she purrs. Holy COW she purrs. She purrs so hard the washer shakes!!

Crazy damn DAT.

Love her all you want where no one can see it, but never touch her Royal Highness in the view of the general public!

Note To Self: Vitamins-- Take Them!

2010-11-23T09:07:00.001-05:00

Just not at three in the afternoon.

Why not? Because *apparently* the B-Complex perks me up. Which is GREAT-- these days I need all the "perking" I can get. But when that PERK does not let up until well after midnight.... weeeelllll.. it might be a wee bit too much perk.

So Self, take the flipping vitamins EARLY in the day, OK? OK!

Note To Self: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

2010-11-16T17:30:00.002-05:00

Some days, it just may not pay to even ponder the meaning/ purpose of various interactions in Life.

For example.

Wrecking Crew.
1:30AM. I hear him whimpering. From the depths of desperately needed sleep, I drag myself awake to do my Motherly duty and see what the problem is.

One, he had to tinkle.
Two, he was upset because....
Are you ready for this?

He was CONVINCED there was a "stain" on his jammie bottoms, and he wanted to change his jammie bottoms for pants cause the stain was keeping him awake cause the jammie bottoms were mad at having a stain on them... *sobsobsob*

At which point I cocked my head and wondered "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? A STAIN? What the hell is he talking about? It's One-Freaking-Thirty in the MORNING! And he is pissed about a damn STAIN?"

We got up. Piddled (OK so Wrecker? Yeah, he peed a LAKE. I've never seen a child pee as much as he can. I *swear* his legs are extensions of his BLADDER.)

Went back to bed.
Fixed his blanket.

And started the whole thing over again.

*whimpersobwhine* "Mom-theres-a-stain-on-my-jammies-and-its-keeping-me-awake-and-I-NEEEED-different-pants-on-cause-the-stain-is-making-my-jammies-mad! Help me Mommy!!"

Umm. Yeah. Umm... son, keep on those jammies and close your eyes- that way you won't see the stain and it will be OK.

"But MOM! *sobwhimperwhinesob* now-my-pillow-is-wet!! FIX it Mommy! Pweeeze!"

Wrecking Crew got a *gentle suggestion* from his sleep deprived Mommy to turn the pillow over and go to sleep. Along with another *gentle suggestion* to stop whining and crying, or else he would be invited to leave the room and sleep elsewhere. Like.. in the van perhaps.

He gave in.

And the last time his sleep deprived Mommy looked at the clock, it was headed for 4AM. So much for getting any additional much needed sleep.....

Yep. It was a Whiskey Tango Foxtrot kind of day.

Note To Self: DAT Chronicles Continued

2010-11-15T09:28:00.002-05:00

Apparently, DAT and I are suffering from the same malady at the moment. We are both stir crazy, thanks to a massive dose of Cabin Fever.

I know where MY Cabin Fever stems from- thanks to being sickern hell for days on end now, any ambition I can muster up is devoted to little things for survival. Like trying to slap together some food for the Locust Brothers (so they don't try to eat ME.)

DAT, ever on the look out for entertainment and opportunities to train her human house mates, has found THE Ideal Opportunity.

It's called, "Let's See How Many Times I Can Get The Kids To Let Me In And Out In A Day's Time".

So far, her record is about 45.

She will sit and observe the children playing. Every now and again, she will prance her little fluffy butt over to the door, and look up at the child in question pleadingly. Usually, the child is Wrecking Crew. He is a total sucker for DAT's big green eyes. She will reach up, as high on the door as she can, and blink at Wrecker.. and he'll open the door to let her out. When it is time to come in, she waits until she hears a child near the door, and will attempt to scratch on the door or side of house to get the child's attention.

This begins every day around 6AM.

And it does not stop until nightfall, when I inform her it is time to go to bed.

**Note: The only time I partake in her ritualistic training is at 6AM. The rest of the time, the Locust Brothers are her target subjects.

Works for me.

Note To Self: Private Worry Stone?

2010-11-10T11:55:00.002-05:00

I know, as children grow they have to explore. Everything, and everywhere, including what is in their britches.

So it is not *quite* a shock to see my five year old treating his spout as his personal worry stone.

Someone needs to tell him that those things have a shelf life huh?

Note To Self: Things Children Say

2010-11-06T18:15:00.003-04:00

The Locust Brothers are well on their way to a full recovery from the Creeping Crud that invaded their systems, and have been playing in (read: DESTROYING) their play room.

Upon hearing a toy phone make heavy contact once again with a solid object (the object did not scream, there for it was not a child,) I called out, "Stop! Throwing! The! Phone!"

Dear Husband chimed in with a tired sounding, "Don't Make Me Kill You, Boy!"

We hear gasping from the back, scrambling, and then Cub pipes up and says, "Don't kill me! I'm innocent!"

Yep. That would be my son. The nut did not fall from the tree with that one, eh?

Note To Self: Nyquil

2010-11-05T11:03:00.002-04:00

Yep. Nyquil. Again.

But THIS time it was a sanity saver, as it is NYQUIL FOR KIDS.

Both the Locust Brothers have a wicked bad cold, and the only way they (and conversely ME) get any rest is using some form of medication. Children's Nyquil to the rescue.

And yes, they BOTH woke up this morning, looking confused at their location. Apparently about ten minutes after ingesting the recommended dosage, their ability to think and reason begin to fade, and with in fifteen minutes, they are out cold drooling on themselves.

Which meant that about twenty five minutes after dosing them, MOM was out like a light to. Amen.

Note To Self: Survival Tactics

2010-11-04T09:02:00.002-04:00

Both of the Locust Brothers are sick.

Really. Sick.

Which means Mommy is up medicating and checking on the childrens at all hours of the night.

Currently, I'm operating on about three hours a night for the past umm.... well, since Sunday night- however many nights ago THAT was.

Mainline coffee- check
Toothpicks to prop open eyelids- check
Duct tape for when toothpicks fail- check
Ability to make ANY kind of rational decision- totally gone out the window.

This is going to be a long. long. long. long. LONG. Long. Day.

Note To Self: Destructo DAT

2010-11-03T10:16:00.003-04:00

Four in the morning is not a smart time for DAT to start destroying things around the house.

However, it gets her desired result. Which is training me further.

When she can not wake my dead to the world form, she turns to drastic measures, knowing I will hear her. I then get up, growling threats at her, and throw her fuzzy little butt outside.

Which is exactly what she wanted. To go out.

Trainus Interruptus needs to happen. But first, I have to be a bit less sleep deprived, so I can sort out HOW to interrupt her devious training methods!

Note To Self: Pisscuits Says...

2010-10-30T08:47:00.002-04:00

Install a revolving door, JUST for ME. Kitty. MY Door.

Because YOU, motherly human person type, make a crappy doorman.

*Maybe* if I installed the revolving kitty door, the damn DAT would not wake me up every morning at 5:30 by ripping things apart in the bedroom. This morning kitty was a flying Biscuits, and then she flew herself right out the front door too. (Hey at least the front door got OPENED before she tried to fly out of it.)

Note To Self: To The Big O

2010-10-13T16:16:00.001-04:00

Dear President Obama,
.
I read of your administrations plan to re-define September 11th as a National Service Day. Sir, as a United States Veteran, I think it's time we had a talk.
.
During your campaign, Americans watched as you made mockery of our tradition of standing and crossing your heart when the Pledge of Allegiance was spoken. You, out of four people on the stage, were the only one not honoring our tradition. We noticed.
.
During one of your many speeches, Americans heard you say that you intended to visit all 57 states. We noticed.
.
And when Mrs. Obama said at your Inauguration that “this is FIRST time in my life that I’m proud to be an American,” a slap in the face to all veterans and patriots of this great nation, we noticed.
.
When you stated that you “did NOT care to get into a séance with Nancy Regan,” we noticed.
.
When Senator McCain leaned over at Ground Zero and gently placed a flower on the memorial, and you just tossed your flower onto the pile, we noticed.
.
When you addressed foreign countries and stated that America is NOT a Christian country, we noticed.
.
Every time you apologized to other countries for America's position on an issue, we have wondered why you don't share our pride in this great country. When you have heard foreign leaders berate our country and our beliefs, you have not defended us. We noticed.
.
When your pastor of 20 years damned America and said that 9/11 was "America's chickens coming home to roost" and you denied having heard recriminations of that nature, we wondered how that could be. When you later disassociated yourself from that church and pastor because it was politically expedient to do so, we noticed.
.
When you announced that you would transform America, we wondered why.
With all her faults, America is the greatest country on earth. Sir, if not for America and the people who built her, you wouldn't be sitting in the White House now. Prior to your election to the highest office in this country, you were a senator from Illinois and from what we can glean from the records available, not a remarkable one. We noticed.
.
All through your campaign and even now, you have surrounded yourself with individuals who are basically unqualified for the positions to which you appointed them. Worse than that, the majority of them are people who, like you, bear no special affection or respect for this country and her traditions. We noticed.
.
When the fallen soldier’s coffin was carried off the military plane and you stared away as the coffin passed you. We noticed.
.
You are twenty months into your term and every morning millions of Americans wake up to a new horror heaped on us by you. You seek to saddle working Americans with a health care/insurance reform package that, along with cap and trade, will bankrupt this nation. We noticed.
.
We seek, by protesting, to let our representatives know that we are not in favor of these crippling expenditures and we are labeled "un-American," and "racist." We wonder how we are supposed to let you know how frustrated we are. You have attempted to make our protests seem isolated. We noticed.
.
On September 11, 2001 there were no Republicans or Democrats, only Americans. And we all grieved together and helped each other in whatever way we could. The attack on 9/11 was carried out because we are Americans. And we noticed.
.
There were many of us who prayed that as a black president you could help unite this nation even more. In twenty months you have done more to destroy this nation than anyone since 9/11. You have failed us. We noticed.
.
When Americans come together again, it will be to remove you from office. You have made a mockery of our Constitution and the office that you hold. You have embarrassed and slighted us in foreign visits and policy.
.
We have noticed all these things. We will deal with you.

Note To Self: Rednecks and Tractors....

2010-10-08T12:22:00.003-04:00

Cletus is passing by Billy Bob's hay barn one day when through a gap in the door he sees Billy Bob doing a slow and sensual striptease in front of an old green John Deere. Buttocks clenched he performs a slow pirouette and gently slides off first the right strap of his overalls, followed by the left. He then hunches his shoulders forward and in a classic striptease move and lets his overalls fall down to his hips revealing a torn and frayed plaid shirt. Grabbing both sides of his shirt he rips it apart to reveal his stained tee shirt underneath. With a final flourish he tears the tee shirt from his body and hurls his baseball cap onto a pile of hay.

Having seen enough Cletus rushes in and says "what the heck are you doing Billy Bob."

"Jeez, Cletus, ya scared the bejeezers out of me," says an obviously embarrassed Billy Bob, "but me and the Ole lady been having trouble lately in the bedroom department, and the Therapist suggested I do something sexy to a tractor."

Note To Self: Jo Attacks DAT

2010-10-04T10:46:00.002-04:00

Apparently, when 70 pounds of mischievous Jo the Wonder Nanny Dog comes bouncing down the ramp on the front of the house at you, you lose your Shitscuits.

Because that is precisely what happened to Pisscuits yesterday evening. Jo bounded down towards us, and Pisscuits lost her shitscuits in the blink of an eye.

Talk about funny.

Old Jo KNEW exactly what she was doing, too. She laughed even harder than I did.

Thank you God, for putting such crazy, wonderful, lovely and highly entertaining animals in our lives. It sure would be dull with out them!

Note To Self: DAT Gets New Names

2010-10-02T07:42:00.002-04:00

Yes, the DAT once again is garnering names, some of them are even repeatable in the presence of the Locust Brothers.

For example:

As DAT, whose name truly is Biscuits, was watching Dear Husband and I pet Porch Cat (who *hates* all other animals including the DAT,) DAT was ticked. Miffed. PISSED.
Dear Husband laughed. He reached out to the DAT when he got into the house, and said, "Awww, what's the matter there, 'Pisscuits'? Mad at me for petting that other cat?"

Pisscuits.
Freaking. Perfect. Name.

Because she was indeed, a Pissed Biscuit.

The next name popped out as DAT/ Biscuits/ Pisscuits was tormenting Jo the Wonder Nanny Dog/ Chicken in a Dog Suit. She became the "Trix-cuits". Cause she was playing "Trix" on the dog.

The other name is not one I can repeat in front of the Locust Brothers. The Other Name came several evenings ago as the rotten cat attacked ME. Again.

Dear Husband was in the bed room gathering clothes for work the next day. I had gone into the bedroom to get clean jammies for the Locust Brothers. DAT, as always, followed me. And ventured into her lair, which is behind a curtain.

I walked out of the bedroom, not paying much attention.

Took two steps.
The curtain billowed out at me, and tiny little pin pricks of pain encircled my ankle.
Next thing I know, there was a soft, silky attachment wrapped about my ankle and calf.

I yelled and screamed. Dear Husband came running, the kids came running, and even the dog came running. (That didn't last long. The dog was in the bedroom with Dear Husband, and she came running only to run right by me to hide in the bathroom.)

I've never seen a cat laugh as hard as the DAT that night.

Damn thing is going to kill me yet.....

Note To Self: Points To Ponder

2010-09-29T08:05:00.002-04:00

How many zeros in a billion?

This is too true to be funny.

The next time you hear a politician use the
word 'billion' in a casual manner, think about
whether you want the 'politicians' spending
YOUR tax money.

A billion is a difficult number to comprehend,
but one advertising agency did a good job of
putting that figure into some perspective in
one of it's releases.

A.
A billion seconds ago it was 1959.

B.
A billion minutes ago Jesus was alive.

C.
A billion hours ago our ancestors were
living in the Stone Age.

D.
A billion days ago no-one walked on the earth on two feet.

E.
A billion dollars ago was only
8 hours and 20 minutes,
at the rate our government
is spending it.

While this thought is still fresh in our brain...
let's take a look at New Orleans ..
It's amazing what you can learn with some simple division.

Louisiana Senator,
Mary Landrieu (D)
is presently asking Congress for
250 BILLION DOLLARS
to rebuild New Orleans .. Interesting number...
what does it mean?

A.
Well... if you are one of the 484,674 residents of New Orleans
(every man, woman, and child)
you each get $516,528.

B.
Or... if you have one of the 188,251 homes in
New Orleans , your home gets $1,329,787.

C.
Or... if you are a family of four...
your family gets $2,066,012.

Washington , D. C

HELLO!
Are all your calculators broken??

Building Permit Tax
CDL License Tax
Cigarette Tax
Corporate Income Tax
Dog License Tax
Federal Income Tax (Fed)
Federal Unemployment Tax (FU TA)
Fishing License Tax
Food License Tax
Fuel Permit Tax
Gasoline Tax
Hunting License Tax
Inheritance Tax
Inventory Tax
IRS Interest Charges (tax on top of tax)
IRS Penalties (tax on top of tax)
Liquor Tax
Luxury Tax
Marriage License Tax
Medicare Tax
Property Tax
Real Estate Tax
Service charge taxes
Social Security Tax
Road Usage Tax (Truckers)
Sales Taxes
Recreational Vehicle Tax
School Tax
State Income Tax
State Unemployment Tax (SUTA)
Telephone Federal Excise Tax
Telephone Federal Universal Service Fee Tax
Telephone Federal, State and Local Surcharge Tax
Telephone Minimum Usage Surcharge Tax
Telephone Recurring and Non-recurring Charges Tax
Telephone State and Local Tax
Telephone Usage Charge Tax
Utility Tax
Vehicle License Registration T ax
Vehicle Sales Tax
Watercraft Registration Tax
Well Permit Tax
Workers Compensation Tax
(And to think, we left British Rule to avoid so many taxes)

STILL THINK THIS IS FUNNY?

Not one of these taxes existed 100 years ago...
and our nation was the most prosperous in the world.

We had absolutely no national debt...
We had the largest middle class in the world...
and Mom stayed home to raise the kids.

What happened?
Can you spell 'politicians!'

And I still have to
press '1'
for English.

I hope this goes around the
U S A
at least 100 times

What the heck happened?????

=

Note To Self: Historical TidBit..

2010-09-27T08:11:00.002-04:00

Interesting piece of history. In 1872 the Arabs invented the condom, using a goat's bladder. In 1873 the British somewhat refined the idea by taking the bladder out of the goat first.

Courtesy of a good pal of ours... who ain't all that right either.

Note To Self: DAYQUIL... NYQUIL

2010-09-25T12:30:00.001-04:00

Not much difference, really....

But for future reference Self, don't look at PeopleOfWalMart.com when taking either of those drugs, eating a bowl of cereal, and drinking coffee.

Bad bad BAD idea. Just sayin'.

Note To Self: NyQuil Here I Come

2010-09-24T15:44:00.002-04:00

Never mind that NyQuil is the how the hell did I wake up on the kitchen floor drug---
Just TAKE it already.

Maybe you can use the DAT for a pillow, she LIKES to sleep in the middle of the kitchen floor.
(At least I won't be alone when I fall down in a stupor there later on tonight.... Whether or not I'll live to see the next morning is questionable. But I won't be alone!)

Note To Self: The Next Time...

2010-09-18T07:54:00.002-04:00

You can't sleep in the middle of the night, Self, and you have *great* ideas for blog posts,

Get
Up
And
Write
Them
Down.

Seriously.

You're up ANYWAYS, so just put on your glasses, and Go Write The Ideas Down.

It's not that hard already.

And while you are at it, make sure the DAT is *not* intending to pounce on Dear Husband while he is sleeping.

Note To Self: Cause For Worry?

2010-09-15T16:14:00.003-04:00

That is the DAT.

She routinely takes over ... well, everywhere.

At night, she has begun taking over my half of the bed. I'm not too sure what to think of this. Mostly though I think she is lulling me into a false sense of security.

DAT needs to remember--- if she kills me off with her soft fluffy tail while I'm sleeping, she will lose her main food source, and source of entertainment. After all, who else will bend over and let her play with their hair?

Note To Self: Never. Forget.

2010-09-11T12:39:00.000-04:00

Live Free Or Die, America.

Never
Forget.

Note To Self: Really, Wrecker, Just Call It An "IED"

2010-09-07T17:14:00.003-04:00

The kids have been on a roll lately with some.. umm... uh... well, "interesting" things coming out of their mouths. Most of them have been from Wrecking Crew.

For example.
Every once in a while, I'll break down and allow them time on the computer to play some games. Of course, being MY boys, they play blow 'em up type games.

Wrecker was watching Cub. He excitedly pointed out,
"Cub! Use the Boobystraps!!"

Then yesterday, he was perusing a catalog at Granny's. Randomly choosing items to tell us all about, he pointed out a blow gun, and a cross bow.

For the cross bow, he merely said, "I'll ARROW you!"

For the blow gun..... yeah .. I am afraid to say my innocent little four year old popped out with,
"I'll BLOW you!" Poor kid could not understand the strangled noises coming from his Granny's throat, as she tried to choke back the laughter and tell him, "How bout you just say "I'll SHOOT you" from now on..."

I just have no words left for this one....

Note To Self: You Know You're Old When...

2010-09-05T21:18:00.003-04:00

You can recall as a child, seeing adults digging into their bowls of Raisin Bran cereal with a "Yum Yum" smile on their faces.. and thinking to yourself, "Holy shit-- I'll never eat THAT stuff! It tastes like crap, and besides, only OLD people eat it! Eeewww-- it's BRAN!"

Yeah.

Guess what.

Know what is in my pantry?
A giant box of Crunchy Raisin Bran cereal.

Know what I love to eat these days, anytime of the day?
If you guessed Crunchy Raisin Bran cereal, you'd be RIGHT.

I'm turning into a bran eating crazy old cat lady. God save us all.

Note To Self: When You Need To Laugh.....

2010-09-02T11:52:00.003-04:00

Head to CAKEWRECKS.COM. I promise you, this husband and wife team will leave you in stitches and craving frosting.

Just a word of warning- today's patriotic post will move you. It will move you so much, that you do not want to have anything in your mouth as you read to the end.

Trust me on this one y'all.

Go there.

Laugh.

And KEEP going there. They'll Make Your Day!

Note To Self: Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

2010-08-28T11:51:00.002-04:00

This morning has been rough. A caffeine deficiency has me operating at lower than acceptable levels.

After dealing with a cranky crab ass outbreak from the Locust Brothers, I found myself being rather cranky and crabby as well. (Yep. If you were just thinking, "Why, I bet she meant B-I-T-C-H!" guess what- you are RIGHT.)

Things got quiet for a moment.

I said, "Maybe I need more coffee."

Sweet Wrecking Crew, who was standing beside me, reached out his tiny hand, rubbed my shoulder, and said, "Yeah Mom, you do."

Wisdom from the mouth of my youngest. Hard to argue with that.

Note To Self: How To Tell If You Are Being Trained

2010-08-26T12:20:00.002-04:00

Step One: Observe the DAT closely. As she sits and twitches her fluffy tail, watching you watch her, you know that she is contemplating something. Something not good.

Step Two: Observe the DAT observing you, as you stand to head to the washer and dryer. Which is where her food dish is.

Step Three: Observe the DAT, trotting along under your feet (ie: tripping you). Note the particular gleam in her eye.

Step Four: Observe the DAT, once she is on top of the washing machine, purring and making tiny kitty biscuits as she eats. The reason for her happiness? You are petting her.

Step Five: Lather, rinse, repeat.

Now, sit back and consider a few things.

- Currently, any time you head to the kitchen area, which adjoins the wash area, Kitty DAT paces you and tries to lure you in to her domain (ie: the food bowl.)

- Note the DAT's ability to lure you in to her domain. Cunning she is. Irresistible too she is.

- Note your in-ability to resist the DAT, as she draws you ever closer to her domain. In which she wishes to be picked up, and placed up on the washer, AND have you pet her and talk to her as she eats.

Yes, Self, Kitty DAT has you trained. From lifting her up to eat, paying attention to her as she eats, and responding to her requests to "DANCE MONKEY, DANCE!" (ie: play with her and let her beat you to a pulp,) the Kitty DAT has you trained. And you never ever saw it coming.

Note To Self: Remember..... Coffee Is The Liquid Of Life

2010-08-24T09:49:00.002-04:00

And trying to start your day WITH OUT said Liquid Of Life, Self, is just plain STUPID.

Seriously now.

Besides, the lack of caffeine will affect your aim as you pull the trigger. Although the Pure Meanness as a direct result of a lack of caffeine might allow you to compensate some and keep you right on target.

Note To Self: Steamy Southern Saturday

2010-08-21T12:10:00.002-04:00

It's so humid, my AC has not stopped running for more than ten minutes (around five in the morning) at a time.

It's so humid, that if you don't have a box fan blasting somewhere in the house to help you dry off, you start molding immediately after exiting the shower.

It's so humid that we all- except for Jo the Chicken in a Dog Suit- have Cabin Fever. Yes- Cabin Fever. Previously thought to only happen in Tundra Country in the deepest, darkest depths of winter, Cabin Fever has a southern cousin. It hits in August.

I hate August.

But at least tonight for the culmination of Stupid Movie Saturday on the SyFy Channel, I will be enjoying Lake Placid 3. Nothing like a good, gory, stupid, badly acted, written even worse 'Gator flick to tuck me in by....

Note To Self: Don't Get The Dog To Wag Her Tail!

2010-08-20T17:29:00.002-04:00

Why not? Because starting at the butt crack of dawn this morning, every time poor old Jo the Chicken in a Dog Suit wagged her tail....

DAT pounced.

DAT is dealing with a case of Cabin Fever (as we all are.) The difference between DAT and we humans? DAT is expressing herself much stronger.

By terrorizing Jo.

OK OK I confess. I encouraged Jo to wag her tail faster and faster this morning, just to watch the DAT terrorize it. After about an hour (Jo is slow on the uptake sometimes,) DAT turned from just the TAIL to the rest of the dog. Poor old Jo didn't stand a chance. DAT had her. She wrapped her tiny slinky self around Jo's legs, booped her nose, swatted her ears, and poked her belly.

It.
Was.
Hilarious.

At least it's a great way to begin a Friday!

Note To Self: Thank God The Bricks Don't Breathe

2010-08-17T21:22:00.004-04:00

I'm tellin' ya-- courtesy of the medications to control intense pain and massive muscle spasms last week-ish, I don't remember a whole lot of what went on, what conversations transpired, or whom I might have spoken with.

But.

I *do* remember all too well that the Bricks Were Breathing.

(Bits of this are a repeat for some.. but bear with me- the rest of the world needs to know about this too. SOMEONE out there has to be able to tell me I'm really NOT ALONE in this!)

It all started when Dear Husband grew weary of me not being able to move, and *made* me go to the ER to get some xrays and medications to stop the extreme freaking pain that had taken over my lower back.

Eight views later of my back and pelvis, the nurse *still* had not made her way around to hit me with the good stuff (or even acknowledge my being there,) Dear Husband was about ready to hand out a few rasp enemas to staff. Apparently, seeing his wife in tears makes him mad.

Shortly before discharging us (and after we'd seen the Good Doctor about three times,) the nurse shuffles her way in to administer some relief. (I confess-- I do remember all too well snapping at the nurse when about ten seconds after poking me in the rear she perkily asked if the Adavan was kicking in yet. My reply? "No! The only thing I feel is PAIN from where you shot me in the ass!")

Now, y'all, I'm a lightweight. Seriously. Doc had the nurse hit me with a cocktail and a half. I got (according to Dear Husband) Adavan, Toradol, and not one but TWO Percocets. All were administered about eight minutes before we were sent on out the door. (Which in retrospect, was probably a GOOD thing.)

Dear Husband scooted ahead, leaving me with strict orders to NOT walk all the way to the Big Green Beast, so he could bring our chariot to the curb to pick me up. (The pick me up part was literal- at this time, the pain was still bad enough that there was no way I could climb up into the darn truck under my own powers.) After strapping me in, I noticed... things were looking a wee bit.. funny.

We rumbled off to the pharmacy, to fill the prescription that would send me right into orbit for the next week. As we are moving down the road, Dear Husband noticed me squinting at the SUV in front of us.... and asked what I was doing. I replied that there were three of them, and I was trying to pick out a good one.

(Yep. Here it comes...)

He pulled around to the drive through, dropped off the scripts, and looked over at me, smiling and spacing out in the passenger seat. Apparently, he was not happy with my level of flight, as he insisted we needed to get food into me ASAP. It just so happens that a pizza joint is right next door, and I suggested pizza. He said no, it was hot food, and he did not need me having to go BACK to the ER for facial burns as I tried to find my mouth to eat it. (Good point. My mouth just kept.. moving. Away. I just could not master finding my mouth.)

Instead, he opted for Burger King, and a safer route with fries and chicken nuggets. At least if I missed my mouth, I would not have sauce and cheese burns, right? (And no, they were not tough enough to put an eye out.)

We pulled back around to the pharmacy, and parked in the shade of the building. Now, this particular store has big brick pillars in front. We happened to park in front of one of the pillars. As I struggled with poking fries in my face (cause, you know, my darn mouth kept wandering away on me,) I noticed something....

The bricks in the column.

They were BREATHING.

Inhale... Exhale...

I thought I was being slick and not staring that closely at them. But, Dear Husband, sharp man that he is, noticed my undue attention towards the front of our vehicle, and asked me what I was looking at.

When I told him the bricks were breathing, I think he regretted asking.

In the end, I had to hear him promise he would shoot the bricks if they started coming at me. (Never mind we were unarmed. He was still supposed to shoot the damn things if they started moving towards us.)

Now I've been informed by a couple folks (Dear Husband being one of them,) that my week was quite entertaining. For everybody BUT me.

Somehow, I don't think I want to know ALL the gory details. But a few details might clear up the sniggers and snickers that I hear when people ask if I am still on meds....

Someone, somewhere out there, please tell me that I am not alone in being such a total and complete lightweight. And if I talked with any of you, please, feel free to share stories of what I might have said and done.... I really hate missing a week!

Note To Self: I Give Up

2010-08-13T22:56:00.002-04:00

Right- I give up. Yes, you read that right. I am giving up on something. Rare, I know.

However, for the past couple years now, I have tried to no avail to sort something out. Maybe someone out there in the Great Beyond has an idea or three on this strange phenomenon that happens in my home, while the Locust Brothers are on the can.

Why. WHY. WHY.

Do the children.

Feel the need.

To be.

Completely
Totally
Utterly

Buck Nekkid

in order to poop?

Anyone?? Cause like it says up top--- I give up on trying to sort THAT mess out!

Note To Self: It's True.

2010-08-12T14:17:00.002-04:00

Put food on a stick, and children will eat the hound out of it.

I'll have to get creative and stick some veggies on a stick and batter coat it. Might stand a chance of getting them into the Fussy Child... AKA: Wrecking Crew.

Wonder what else we can skewer and get the child to eat... this experiment could get really interesting!

Note To Self: Fukitol Rx

2010-08-07T10:07:00.003-04:00

My prescription of Fukitol ran out.

There is no chocolate in the house.

The pain meds make me sleepy.

Lucky for me the Locust Brothers clamoring for food/ attention/ splinter removal keep me awake.

Fukitol. Damn I need some more.

Note To Self: Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

2010-08-02T21:12:00.002-04:00

The children.

Ah the children........

Turning into quite the pony loving fellows, they were dismayed to say the least this evening when I broached the subject of the borrowed Blondie Ponykins having to return to her herd soon. As much as we adore her, see, Blondie is just not happy being the only pony here. I feel guilty seeing her this upset still, even after being here for a couple of weeks.

As I tried to explain that to the children, Cub looked me dead in the eye and informed me,
"No Mom! We'll just order up another pony for her to boss around, and the other pony can help eat up the hay!"

Wrecker pipes up with, "Yeah Mom, just order another pony!"

Nothing Dear Husband or I said could convince them that the kindest thing to do is to send Blondie home to her herd. And might I just add, that the children were quite dismayed at my apparent lack of comprehending their irrefutable logic?

I need an ice cream, and a cuddle with DAT. Even if she might smother me in my sleep just for the heck of it one night- DAT will make it better.....

(At my own peril, I know.....)

Note To Self: You Can Tell I'm Bored When...

2010-07-28T15:07:00.003-04:00

Since the old busted up back is demanding rest and recovery time, I'm forced into inactivity from time to time of late. (And I'm hating every single damn second of it too.)

Ways to entertain myself have become a hot topic.

A favorite has been handing the children wet wash rags, and instructing them to wash various things. Like the kitchen floor, walls, appliances and the like.

Another, when the Locust Brothers are actually BEHAVING, is to get Jo the Wonder Nanny Dog to wag her tail. Why do I get her to sit and wag? Because the DAT is never far away, and it is GREAT fun to see DAT *Boop* Jo on the tail. DAT- complete entertainment in a soft, furry, cuddly six pound package.

Gotta love the DAT!

Note To Self: DAT Did It!

2010-07-27T08:10:00.003-04:00

Yep, it's true. I blame it *all* on the DAT. It's her fault. She did it. DAT did it all.

DAT is not one of those overly lovely kitties that feels the need to be in your personal space all the time, sitting on your lap, purring into your face, or sleeping next to you on the bed. For which I am thankful.

However.

Yesterday.

DAT was loving.
DAT was affectionate.
DAT was not her normal self.

Oh no.

Yesterday morning started out with DAT launching herself at me, clad in the worn out old bathrobe, three times with her claws out. She also went flying across the living room three times too.

All through the day yesterday, DAT was near at hand. In fact, while I was writing, she was wrapped around my foot. I was afraid to move it for fear of attack by her tiny- yet incredibly sharp- claws.

DAT ousted Jo the Chicken in a Dog Suit out from under the computer desk.
And proceeded to BOOP ankles and toes at her leisure.

Bedtime rolls around. I was thinking that sleeping with one eye open would be a safe move on my part.

And I was RIGHT.

I got comfortable and Passed O-U-T. Around 2am, I came to a bit, and thought it felt like something was gently touching my leg.

When I got up at 2:30 to make the nightly potty trip, what was gentle touching turned into NOT so gentle clawing and I discovered the DAT. Again. Wrapped around my ankle.

I'm traumatized. For real.

If you don't hear from me for a couple of days, send out the troops on a search and recover mission.

Note To Self: Per Dear Husband...

2010-07-24T10:20:00.002-04:00

"Today is going to be a great day, whether you like it or not. Anyone disobeying this order will be beat severely about the head and shoulders until they comply. Got that?"

He obviously did not discuss this with DAT before he left for work. The Full Moon is affecting the DAT. In Very Scary Ways....

Pray for us, people..... It's going to get ugly 'round here.....

Note To Self: Critters Underfoot

2010-07-20T12:34:00.002-04:00

Life sure feels better with a critter or three underfoot.

DAT under the kitchen sink, napping.

Jo the Chicken in a Dog Suit, right behind me, napping.

And a pony in the paddock, here to eat up hay that was left from the big horse.

Yeah, today is a better day.
Life.
Is.
Good.

Note To Self: Well Now....!

2010-07-18T20:13:00.002-04:00

Thanks Dad for sending this one along!

Three strangers strike up a conversation in the passenger lounge in
Bozeman, Montana, while waiting for their respective flights...

One is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer, another is a
Cowboy on his way to Billings for a livestock show and the third passenger
is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at Montana State University
from the Middle East .

Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon, the two
Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout, radical Muslim and the
conversation falls into an uneasy lull.

The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine table,
tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face, and lights a
cigarette. The wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around, and the old
windsock is flapping; but still no plane comes.

Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks, 'At
one time here... my people were many... but sadly, now we are few.'

The Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward,
'Once my people were few,' he sneers, 'and now we are many. Why do you
suppose that is?'

The cowboy removes his cigarette from his mouth and from the darkness
beneath his Stetson says in a smooth drawl . . .

'I reckon that's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet,
But I do believe it's a-comin'.'

Note To Self: Change Your Way Of Thinking

2010-07-14T13:27:00.002-04:00

If you keep telling yourself (or letting OTHERS tell you) "I can not afford XXXXX"....

Guess what?

You never WILL be able to afford XXXXXX.

If you believe you can't obtain your heart's desire, and you keep letting Other People tell you that you will not ever be able to afford your heart's desire, you give up. Why bother to try if it will never happen?

In short, I say

SCREW.
THAT.

NO ONE should set your limits for you- financial or otherwise.
NO ONE has the right to tell you what you can or can not do.

So next time you catch yourself thinking that you can not afford something, think instead: How can I get there?
FIND.
A.
WAY.
And make it happen.

(Note: I did not say it was going to be easy. "Easy" is giving up. Getting there will be well worth it.)

Note To Self: Don't. Answer. The. Phone.

2010-07-13T11:02:00.003-04:00

No- seriously-

Stop.
Answering.
The.
Phone.

Because if you are going to call asking for advice, and then argue with me about it,

DON'T F*CKING CALL ME.

If you already know what you are going to do, then WHY are you asking me? Just because you want to argue?

If you just want to argue, I'm going to tell you flat out--

Go.
The.
Fuck.
Away.

I don't have time for your special brand of idiocy.

Note To Self: Watch Your Mouth!

2010-07-12T20:13:00.002-04:00

Ahh Cub. My little man, who hears EVERYTHING.

And puts things to excellent use, too.

Nothing like hearing Cub, at 0'dark-thirty in the morning, fishing the DAT out from under the kitchen sink.
"Come on out, you f*cking DAT! You made too much noise, and woke me up! Now get your fuzzy ass out here this instant!"

Yeah.

*coughcough*

Nuff said.

Note To Self: Problem Solving At It's Best

2010-07-02T13:44:00.003-04:00

The Cowboy solution to save Gasoline

OBAMA wants
us to cut the amount of gasoline we use.....

The
best way to stop using so much gasoline is to deport 15 million illegal immigrants!

That
would be 15 million less people using our gas.

The price
of gas would come down.....
Bring our troops home from Afghanistan to guard the borders....

When
they catch an illegal immigrant crossing the

Border, hand him a canteen, rifle and some ammo and ship him to Afghanistan ....

Tell
him if he wants to come to AMERICA then he must serve a tour in OUR military....

Give
him a soldier's pay while he's there and tax him on it......

After
his tour, he will be allowed to become a citizen since he defended this country.....

He
will also be registered to be taxed and be a legal resident.....

This
option will probably deter illegal immigration and provide a solution for the troops in Afghanistan and the aliens trying to make a better life for themselves.. ......

If
they refuse to serve, ship them to Afghanistan anyway, without the canteen, rifle or ammo.....

Problem solved.....

Note To Self: Things Are Not Always As They Seem

2010-07-01T09:19:00.002-04:00

Ralph and Edna were both patients in a mental hospital. One day while they were walking past the hospital swimming pool, Ralph suddenly jumped into the deep end.

He sank to the bottom of the pool and stayed there.

Edna promptly jumped in to save him. She swam to the bottom and pulled him out. When the Head Nurse Director became aware of Edna's heroic act she immediately ordered her to be discharged from the hospital, as she now considered her to be mentally stable.

When she went to tell Edna the news she said, 'Edna, I have good news and bad news. The good news is you are being discharged, since you were able to rationally respond to a crisis by jumping in and saving the life of the person you love... I have concluded that your act displays sound mindedness.

The bad news is, Ralph hung himself in the bathroom with his bathrobe belt right after you saved him. I am so sorry, but he's dead.'

Edna replied, 'He didn't hang himself, I put him there to dry.. How soon can I go home?'

Note To Self: How To Distract Dog From Thunderstorms

2010-06-29T17:50:00.001-04:00

Get out her Arch Rival:

(No, NOT the DAT.)

The VACUUM Cleaner!!

Jo the Wonder Nanny Dog? HATES the vacuum with a passion. Even more than she hates thunderstorms.

Since I have an OCD about vacuuming, it works out well for all of us!

Silly old dog....

Note To Self: NyQuil....

2010-06-25T21:22:00.002-04:00

Remember Self, why Dear Husband giggles and says that NyQuil is the:

Coughing
Wheezing
Fever
Aching
Stuffy Head
How In The Hell Did I Wind Up On My Kitchen Floor ?

Night time remedy.

NyQuil, Self, will last with YOUUUU until WELL into the next day. Leaving you looking like a drooling idiot in front of clients.

Self- Never. Take. NyQuil. Again.

EVER!

Note To Self: Remember....

2010-06-23T21:18:00.003-04:00

God may not give us what we WANT----

But He always gives us what we NEED.

On this day, I need to say a Thank You, God,
for providing us with what we NEED.

Amen.

Note To Self: Before You Give That "Special Wave"...

2010-06-16T08:06:00.002-04:00

Look to make sure there is really no one else looking.

Dear Husband and I have a morning routine. I stagger out and wave bye to him, as he is backing on out the drive.

Once in a while, I'll flash him, just... because I can.

Well.

THIS morning.
I'm beat. Feel like total crap. Pulled on the ratty old bathrobe. Walked out with Dear Husband. Waved. Gave our "special wave".

Looked out over the paddock after Dear Husband left, and by the lane way to the tower...... Yeah.

Well, I'm thinking someone else got a pale wake up shot and not just Dear Husband.

Next time, Self, LOOK AROUND. Ya Stupid!

Note To Self: SMILE!!!

2010-06-13T14:42:00.000-04:00

1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary?

7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on #5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

10. Bad decisions make good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.

13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

14. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this - ever.

15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damn it!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail. What did you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?

16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

17. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

18. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

19. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.

20. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option

21. Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first saw it.

22. I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

23. The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a text.

24. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

25. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?

26. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a dick from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

27. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

28. Is it just me or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year?

29. There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

30. As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

31. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

32. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet my ass everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time!

Author Unknown

Note To Self: Get. Motivated.

2010-06-12T10:55:00.002-04:00

Summer is here. For real. And it's here to STAY.

For example:
Dropping Dear Husband off at work this morning, the temperature at 7:49AM was 81*.

I headed to our client for the morning, and by 10AM when the kids and I hit WallyWorld real quick, it was 93*.

And humid.

So.

In order to survive the summer, I need to remember how to become "human" before dawn.

Know the worst part?

If I indulge in a full bucket of coffee before heading out, I have to pee a lake. OK, so about three lakes. In order to NOT have to use a clients loo, or squat in some potentially snake infested patch of weeds, I try to skip coffee.

Anyone have suggestions on how to be human for dawn calls, with no coffee?

Note To Self: Summer.

2010-06-10T19:53:00.001-04:00

It's here.
And it sucks

And so do people that dump 6 to 8 week old kittens in 100* plus heat, not caring if they live or die.

Bastards.

Note To Self: Happiness Is...

2010-06-07T11:25:00.002-04:00

The much anticipated and thankfully EARLY arrival of fly spray for my horse.

After spraying the Big Red One, I dared to venture inside and attempt to sit down for a moment. A quick perusal of sale ads was in order, as we are hunting hay.

Lo and behold, what to my happy eyes should appear? But an ad for hay, with delivery, very near.

Sometime next week, Big Red will be getting about 2,000 pounds of local hay, delivered, for $40 less than what we have been paying.

Can I get another AMEN?

Note To Self: WalMart + Early Morning + No Coffee =

2010-06-06T14:33:00.002-04:00

Stupid.
Idea.

First, it's a weekend. Which means *nothing* is stocked.
And what IS in stock, is not stocked
PROPERLY.

Next, people are Even
S....L....O.....W.....E......R
on Sunday mornings.

So we have me, at barely 8AM.
Two children, who were rushed out of the house, with no fortification of Froot Loops.
No coffee.
No breakfast.

About 47 other people, with full baskets (or "buggies" as they call them down here,) waiting... waiting... waiting... for ONE of the THREE LINES that were open to Fricken MOVE.

Why on Earth have 20someodddamncheckouts if you never, EVER have more than FIVE open?

Ugh. WalMart. I hate you so.

Man I need some fricken coffee!

Note To Self: Dear US Census Worker

2010-06-05T16:27:00.003-04:00

Dear Poor Census Worker;

Our census was filled out with the information deemed legally needed and returned weeks ago.

You do not need to come back to my home, driving on my lawn, over my septic system, to pester me with requests for additional information above and beyond the number of persons living in my home.

From a *legal* stand point US Census Worker, I've done my part. You now know there are 4 residents in my home.

No, you may not have their names.
No, you may not have my phone number.
No, you may not have birth dates.
No, you may not have my email address, social security number, or anything else.

You not continue to ask me for additional information after I've declined to provide it in the first place.

You do not intimidate me, US Census Worker, in telling me that someone else will be back out to ask me again, for more information.

The next US Census Worker that comes out will be greeted in the same manner- with polite restraint, a statement that four people reside here, and an invitation to exit my property.

Save yourselves some time, gas money, and frustration US Census Workers, and be satisfied with the answer you've been supplied with *twice* now.

Sincerely,
A US Citizen Who Supports and Believes in The United States Constitution

Note To Self: Biscuits

2010-06-03T12:07:00.002-04:00

"You can put your boots in the oven, but that don't make 'em biscuits."

That line is from "Racing Stripes", quoted by a hound holding the porch down.

For some reason, it is stuck in what is left of my mind today. I'm just tired enough that pondering the meaning of it is amusing.

Yeah. Think I need some decent sleep!

Memorial Day 2010

2010-05-30T09:25:00.003-04:00

We won't forget you
LT Bradshaw
SSG Murphrey

Thank you, and your families for paying the ultimate price.

Note To Self: Don't Forget The Watermelon!

2010-05-29T12:03:00.002-04:00

Yeeeeaaahhh.

We forgot the watermelon.

Self, (AND DEAR HUSBAND TOO) don't put a watermelon in the freezer just to chill and walk away with out leaving a note somewhere. Because you know-- you just KNOW, Self-- that you'll forget.

Twenty hours later, (I did remember before it was a FULL twenty four hours at least,) the watermelon was pulled from the freezer.

I'd say it's umm... "chilled" now.

Now where did we put the chainsaw? We need it to cut the darn thing....

Note To Self: Be Sure To Say I Love You...

2010-05-27T21:53:00.002-04:00

Dear Husband's brother, known in life and on the blogs as "BamBam", has a friend in need.

Lance Frazee, decorated Army Ranger, is on the walk of a lifetime. (**Warning-- have tissues ready when you read this.)

Oh sure- we all "go for a walk". But this is different. This walk is for Lance's daughter Mackenzie.

On August 28, 2008 Mackenzie was killed by a drunk driver. Lance's life changed forever. What parent wants to get THAT phone call, requesting your presence at a hospital, because something happened? And to know that your child is dead? Died because of the stupidity of some jackass who got wasted and drove, even when others were trying to stop him from driving?

Lance Frazee, with Mackenzie's ashes, memories, and photographs is walking from California to North Carolina. He'll be stopping at schools along the way, talking with students about the dangers of drunk driving.

Frazee is keeping a journal, sharing information and pictures on his journey. How does he need help? Let him know you are there. Let him know you're pulling for him. Donate to Mackenzie's Missing Miles, to help keep him going- do it for YOUR kids, YOUR loved ones.

And please, make sure to tell them I Love You.

Because you never know when that chance will be taken away from you.

Note To Self: DAT -VS- Dear Husband (Or Any Human For That Matter...)

2010-05-26T20:08:00.002-04:00

Kitty Biscuits, otherwise known *affectionately* as DAT (AKA: Dumb Ass Thing,) has been busy lately.

She has practiced her pouncing until a POUNCE is now accomplished with Great Skill.
She has practiced her innocent look until we *all* fall for it.
She has practiced luring us deep into a false sense of security.

First DAT - Person Encounter:
Me. Walking through kitchen in the deep dark of the night, on my way to the potty.

What does the DAT do? But reach out her sneaky, furry, and claw tipped paw and smack me as I stagger by only partially awake.

I swear to God Above y'all, the DAT laughed her ass off. I however, was NOT impressed with those antics. It scared the ever loving SNOT out of me, and made me have to BOLT to the loo to avoid a major puddle on the kitchen floor.

Did that learn me?

Oh no. Not even close.

Two nights later. Headed for bed after a very long, long, long, LONG day. Dear Husband and I paused in the kitchen for a snuggle before we staggered to bed. Where were we standing? Next to the chair DAT perches on. Where was the DAT? Waiting. Patiently. And what did DAT in fact do?

Yeah. Strike two for DAT. And yes, my poor weak bladder had to haul ass to the loo. Again.

Score so far?
DAT- 2
Humans- zip

There is a box fan still sitting out, under the window in my living room. DAT has decided she likes the top of the fan, and tries in the night while Dear Husband and I are propping each other up on the couch watching the tube, to climb the fan, and peer out the window from under the heavy curtain. Most nights, she tries to knock the fan over in order to sleep on it. (Yes, she is a Very Odd DAT. But we already knew that, really.)

We watched the DAT, perched up on top of the fan.... under the curtain.... and we could not resist.

Dear Husband got uber quietly up from the couch. Eased on over towards the precariously perched DAT... eeeeeeeaaassssed on up to within arms reach...

And reached out and goosed her.

Y'all...... I have never seen anything so funny in my entire life.

DAT jumped, squeaked, tried to turn in mid air, and wound up crashing down to the floor, wild eyed and with her considerable amount of fur standing on end. It took a good thirty minutes for her eyeballs to suck back into their sockets and her fur to lay down all the way.

It took three DAYS for the twitch to leave her body.

That my friends, is ENTERTAINMENT!

Score now?

DAT: 2
Humans: oh, I'd say about EIGHT after that reaction!

Ahh Biscuits. Life sure would be dull around here with out you!

Note To Self: Blowing Up The Payroll Company? Not A Good Idea

2010-05-23T08:35:00.002-04:00

Next time the J-O-B "offers" direct deposit for it's employees?

DECLINE.

Yeah.

Why?

Because since the company "offered" direct deposit, the actual pay day has changed.

Every.
Single.
Week.

Which FUBARS my weekly planning.
And bill paying.
Grocery shopping.

Pisses.
Me.
Off.

Oh, and when the request was made to STOP the when-we-get-around-to-it-direct-deposit, what was the answer?

NO.

Why the hell NOT?

Because if ONE employee gets a paper pay check, then they have to write a check for ALL employees.

GiveMeADamnBreakAlready.

grrrrr......

Note To Self: Oh. So. True!

2010-05-18T12:25:00.001-04:00

Law of Mechanical Repair - After our hands become coated with grease, your nose will begin to itch and you'll have to pee.

Law of Gravity - Any tool, nut, bolt, screw, when dropped, will roll to the least accessible corner.

Law of Probability -The probability of being watched is directly proportional to the stupidity of your act

Law of Random Numbers - If you dial a wrong number, you never get a busy signal and someone always answers.

Law of the Alibi - If you tell the boss you were late for work because you had a flat tire, the very next morning you will have a flat tire.

Variation Law - If you change lines (or traffic lanes), the one you were in will always move faster than the one you are in now (works every time).

Law of the Bath - When the body is fully immersed in water, the telephone rings.

Law of Close Encounters -The probability of meeting someone you know increases dramatically when you are with someone you don't want to be seen with.

Law of the Result - When you try to prove to someone that a machine won't work, it will.

Law of Biomechanics - The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the reach.

Law of the Theater and Hockey Arena - At any event, the people whose seats are furthest from the aisle, always arrive last. They are the ones who will leave their seats several times to go for food, beer, or the toilet and who leave early before the end of the performance or the game is over. The folks in the aisle seats come early, never move once, have long gangly legs or big bellies, and stay to the bitter end of the performance.. The aisle people also are very surly folk.

The Coffee Law - As soon as you sit down to a cup of hot coffee, your boss will ask you to do something which will last until the coffee is cold.

Murphy's Law of Lockers - If there are only two people in a locker room, they will have adjacent lockers.

Law of Physical Surfaces - The chances of an open-faced jelly sandwich landing face down on a floor are directly correlated to the newness and cost of the carpet or rug.

Law of Logical Argument - Anything is possible if you don't know what you are talking about.

Brown's Law of Physical Appearance - If the clothes fit, they're ugly.

Oliver's Law of Public Speaking - A closed mouth gathers no feet.

Wilson's Law of Commercial Marketing Strategy - As soon as you find a product that you really like, they will stop making it.

Doctors' Law - If you don't feel well, make an appointment to go to the doctor, by the time you get there you'll feel better. But don't make an appointment, and you'll stay sick.

Author Unknown. Sent by a Pal Of Mine. Made me laugh- y'all need to laugh too!

Note To Self: I've Heard It All Now, Haven't I?

2010-05-17T12:41:00.003-04:00

According to this news story: (found here)

Bigfoot Mating Season is in full swing in the Florida Everglades.

(If you think I am kidding, please investigate the link and read for yourself!)

Ladies, according to what I've just read (and had to re-read to make sure this was not a joke of some sort,) if you are menstruating, don't go to the Everglades. And make sure you don't leave your under britches out to dry, as it is apparently a major turn on for the rather amorous Skunk Ape.

Y'all I have talent, but I am not talented enough to make this stuff up.....

Note To Self: In The Middle Of The Night...

2010-05-15T10:21:00.003-04:00

If your world is tilted like this?

Don't
Try
To
Walk
Around.....

Bad bad things happen

(That are funny as hell the next day...)

Note To Self: If You Voted For The Current Administration, Don't Look

2010-05-13T12:23:00.001-04:00

And if you don't approve of that man in office... read away...

One day a fourth-grade teacher asked the children what their

fathers did for a living.. All the typical answers came up --

fireman, mechanic, businessman, salesman, doctor, lawyer, and so

forth.

However, little Justin was being uncharacteristically quiet, so when

the teacher prodded him about his father, he finally replied,

'Okay...my father's an exotic dancer in a gay cabaret and takes off

all his clothes in front of other men and they put money in his

underwear.

Sometimes, if the offer is really good, he will go home with some

guy and stay with him all night for money.'

The teacher, obviously shaken by this statement, hurriedly set the

other children to work on some exercises and then took little Justin

aside to ask him,

'Is that really true about your father?'

'No', the boy said, 'He actually works for the Democratic National

Committee and helped get Barack Obama elected President last year,

but I was too embarrassed to say that in front of the class.'

Note To Self: Children. Now I Know Why Lions Eat Their Young

2010-05-12T11:56:00.004-04:00

A conversation of just a few moments ago, between myself and the Children.

"Mommy! I'm HUNGRY! Can I habe some Wrice and grabies?" (Rice and gravyies for those who are not small child literate yet.)

"Sure honey- I'll warm it up for you. Cub, do you want some rice and gravies too?"

*Stomping of feet, marches to pantry*
"No! I want something else!"

*Me-- rolling eyes, breathing deep, praying for sanity*
"Hey Cub, you think if you maybe, I dunno, asked me NICELY that I might make you something else?"

*Cub-- stomping and storming away from pantry, muttering under his breath*

DING! Nuker goes off-- Wrecking Crews wrice and grabies are ready...

Cub, seeing Wrecking Crew happily putting the wrice and grabies away with a smile, says,
"Well how come Wrecker is eating? That's Not Fair!" in his best ticked off little man voice and posture...

*Me--- wishing there was liquor in the liquor cabinet*
"Cub, Wrecker is eating because he knew what he wanted to eat. I will offer YOU, one more time, rice and gravies as well. Otherwise, you are free to go hungry until you can be NICE."

"Oh. Then I want some rice and grabies too please." (Still pouting, still has arms crossed over his chest...)

*sigh*

Note To Self: How To Tell When You Are Too Tired

2010-05-09T17:29:00.002-04:00

Attempting to answer the television remote control when you hear the telephone ringing?

Might just well be an indicator that You Are Too Tired By Half.

(Sorry Mr. C..... I didn't mean to have you talking to the remote!)

Note To Self: Listen To Your Wife (AND The Doctor)

2010-05-09T14:21:00.002-04:00

When the Doctor tells you, "No heavy lifting, no horse hoof care for four more weeks"....

LISTEN TO HIM!!

When the WIFE tells you, "I really can handle this donkey trim-- do NOT get in there and overdo this!"

LISTEN TO HER!!!

DON'T be a machismo dumbass and do it ANYWAYS!

(We got lucky. Dear Husband did not herniate anything. But he is one hurtin' unit today....)

Note To Self: Four Year Olds And Urinals

2010-05-05T16:11:00.002-04:00

I've heard the saying "The World Is Your Urinal" applied to men for years now. In fact, most of my adult life.

It seems that Wrecking Crew has also heard this saying.

And is taking it seriously.

Why, as a tender, precious two year old, he potty trained himself by using the Great Outdoors to shuck off his hiney cover, and water plants and trees.

As a three year old, he decided that he no longer needed night time hiney covers, and has only had a handful of accidents over night.

Now, as a four year old....

Well, just today for example:
- He has pee'd off the porch
- He has christened the trash can in the bathroom
- He has watered the floor, while stripping off wet shorts, in my laundry room.

I don't think the boy has ONCE hit the loo in the past 12 hours.

*sigh*