Tweetsie has Transvestites???

You know kids just say the funniest doggone things… especially at the EXACT right moment.

Picture:

1 set of grandparents

1 mommy

1 (4 yrs old) little boy, very rambunctious

all sitting in the living room, just a wee bit tired

The grandparents are giving Mommy the blow by blow of the events that happened at Tweetsie Railroad when they took the grandchildren (the abovementioned 4 yr old and an 8 yr old ~ who is very serious about many things~).

Grandmama and Granddaddy are telling Mommy about seeing the “Can-Can Girls” doing their act up on stage in one of the saloons. They tell her that they have the cutest outfits and all about the dance they were doing onstage.

But Then.

Then he spoke.

The precocious little grandson, the one for whom the angels sing says…. “when they did the split, their nuts almost touched the floor!”.

Ahhhhhhhhhh…….. to be young again.

Grandmama had a heart attack right then and there. Granddaddy had a brain aneurysm trying not to laugh in front of the grandson. I do believe he also feared the wrath of Mommy and Grandmama if even one little snicker slid out.

Mommy said that she was caught by surprise by that one and handled it badly (according to the Mommy…. NOT according to me… 3 kids later and I am just happy to get off a “don’t say that again” look).

Of course, like I mentioned above, with 3 kids, not much fazes (is this a real word???) me anymore. I would have made a comment how we don’t discuss other women’s nuts in front of grandparents or company and handled it later. I mean, really. He already thought that either there were guys on that stage, transvestites or that women really do have nuts. Letting him think it for another hour wasn’t going to hurt anything. The only one who was NOT scarred in that little scene above was the 4 yr old. He was happily off to another story and playing with another toy by the time the adults recovered.

Boogie and the Barn Door

Boogie, my son, my youngest, my baby son, my sweet little blonde haired, blue eyed boy, has yet again out-done himself.

We were shopping at Super Target (Tar-jay to those of us who just like saying it that way) last evening. I had it in my mind that I just needed another box to store cds. Of course, they didn’t have it. I had bought the original one I have at home at Wal-Mart. I think the two stores have a policy that if one sells it, the other does not. It tends to tick me off to have to run to two or more stores to find exactly what I need. I guess that is neither here nor there in the great scheme of the story I’m trying to get around to telling.

The “we” in that paragraph was me, my husband and the abovementioned son.  We started just moseying around the store, not really in any hurry. There weren’t many people in the store with us. Boogie and his daddy would walk off and look at things while I looked at other more ‘mommy’ish’ things. Eventually, we got back together toward the end of the store, finished shopping and checked out.

With the bought items packed into the back of the van, we loaded ourselves into the front. Boogie always sits in the row behind us, mostly to make sure he can hear what we are saying (as if we are sharing state secrets or even better…. what we might get him for his next birthday… lol). He was saying something about barn doors. I wasn’t paying that much attention since his daddy was talking to me as well. My ears do not multi-task well. I cannot hear two people talking at once.

When my husband was done, I asked Boogie what he was saying. He said that there were two women who looked at his daddy. Of course, I picked this up right away and began teasing him about “picking up the womens”.

Let’s back up a moment and I’ll explain the ‘barn door’ thing and the ‘picking up the womens’. When my boys (husband and both sons) come out of their respective rooms, most times their zippers on their pants are down. In order to fix this, I came up with what I thought was a funny way to handle it… in the privacy of OUR OWN HOME. Geeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzz, you would think I would know better by now:  Anything said at home WILL MOST LIKELY be repeated in a PUBLIC area and/or around people outside of our immediate family unit. The ‘funny’ way I have to handle it is to tell them that the ‘barn door’ is open and the ‘horse’ is trying to get out. Yeah, maybe a little crude but you have to give me a little credit. I have to deal with my 3 men/boys burping and/or farting at the dinner table and thinking it is the highlight of the day…. Peals of laughter being heard far and wide over it, fumes being detected in the same radius, HAZMAT being called by the people in the next county over. The barn door and horse thing shouldn’t be all THAT bad? Right??

On the “picking up the womens”, when my husband and Boogie go to the store (or wherever) together, I always say to both, “be careful, be good boys, love you!”. To Boogie, I say, “don’t let your daddy pick up any womens”. It’s just a private little joke between us, especially since Boogie is known to have several girlfriends at once and can pick’em up just about anywhere he goes. They seem to be drawn to him like bees to the honey pot.

Back to the story:

I was teasing my husband about ‘picking up the womens’ especially since he had my son with him (see above info on Casanova Jr.). After that, I was asking my son something about HOW his daddy was doing this, this ‘picking up the womens’. I don’t remember the exact words I used but I do remember his reply:  “They looked but didn’t talk to him. They must have seen his barn door open”.

I do so love it when my husband turns beet red.

Before I go though….. I have to say that my husband probably does ‘look’ at women. (It’s not like he’s dead. That’s probably every man’s last thought… will there be angels with racks in heaven?  lol) He has more sense now not to do it IN FRONT OF me. Looks like, though, he’s going to have to exercise some caution in doing it in front of his youngest boy. Is it a father and son thing? Like showing the son how to watch the women or how to check them out, the same as if he was teaching him how to fish? I thought it was something that just came natural to men.

Ahhhh, the mysteries of life…..

Visits from Al

I love my husband. I really do, even on the worst of days. I may not like him much but I will always love him. With one’s own husband, a smidge of sappiness is allowed on occasion, definitely not often.

I do believe our marriage, our re-la-tion-ship is going through another phase. It happens frequently enough that I have gotten used to it to a certain degree. Sometimes the phase or change is due to an experience not of our own making. Some phases are due to my mind working overtime on low self-confidence issues that are transferred over to abovementioned relationship. There are too many reasons to list them all here and I have not the time or inclination to do it as I jealously guard my thoughts about some things.

This won-dif-i-mous phase has been brought on by our not-so-good friend Al. I disowned Al. No, that’s not right. I ‘filed’ Al away into the  -I might come and see him once a year- folder. Al and I were so close for so long, I felt the need for space. Now Al is being the fodder for my post. I can’t turn my back on Al and it really isn’t Al’s fault. It is my fault. I am in control of myself and no one twisted my arm to hang with Al night after night. Sometimes we didn’t speak for a week or two after a particularly nasty fight but then we’d get together again.

As of the time of this blog post, Al is still a problem. Not for me, for I have come to abhor the actual result of an infrequent visit. Al can be a LOT of fun but did I mention Al is messy? Al is not mindful AT ALL of the messes made and the chaos that sometimes ensues. Now, I did say earlier it wasn’t his fault and it really isn’t because I was hanging with Al at the time. I always like to spread the blame a little to soothe my conscience. Deep down, it’s my flaw.

Believe it or not, Al is hereditary! Al had been spotted many times when I was younger. You know, when you are little and you look up to the adults around you, everything (well, mostly… keep in mind I’m talking “YOUNG”) that is down seems sooooo grown-up. …And you want to be, look and seem like an adult, don’t you? Keeping company with Al feels like it would be the ‘adult thing’ to do… only the rest of the adults tell you that you aren’t quite old enough to sidled closer to Al. They keep Al at an arm’s length which is just like holding a carrot in front of a donkey. Let’s go back to the point about Al being inherited. Al gets passed down from generation to generation. I could go into a multitude of reasons for that but just know, Al could have and probably did leave his calling card many, many years ago with your ‘great-grandma/grandpa-several-times-over’.

Enough in depth crap about Al (unless I change my mind later… I have that right being a female)…  Al has been pushing his way into our marriage. Al was definitely an infrequent visitor of my hubby many years ago. So many things have changed since then. The job title and requirements changed, the family dynamic changed (add kids, subtract parents and grandparents on both sides, etc), a change of residence, household issues, and etc.. The worries have not really gotten any worse, just different. A feast of stress for all! On the house! As I mentioned, we went through 4 family deaths and 2 friends of the family deaths in less than 7 months. That alone was a Platinum invitation encrusted with Diamonds for Al to spend time here for as long as possible. Even with Al sitting next to us, we seemed to work out our grief (you know that takes a lot of time and several stages, blah, blah, blah), our sorrows and our problems.

Do you know that Al didn’t even flinch when I casually mentioned that a visit from Al may be a serious factor in the changes in our marriage?? Al seemed to have no thought on our issues one way or another. My husband felt that Al was there for his comfort, an easy way to allow the tension of the day to roll off his back. Hey! Who hasn’t wanted to feel those tight muscles relax and smooth out??Al was (and still is) easy to get along with.

The problem was that my hubby did not want to get rid of Al. Al was quickly becoming his bff.

I used to be my hubby’s bff. Al was my bff for a time and I understand how easy it is to bond with Al when you are feeling crappy, tired and stressed to the point of going postal. ~>  3 kids, a cranky husband, caregiver to my dad and all 4 of my grandparents, a little endometriosis, depression and insomnia.<~ That was my excuse to curl up with Al every evening. I finally did come to the decision that Al just wasn’t giving as much as he was taking. Thief in the night? Not really. More like a mooch and you were the sucker.

I still love my husband, as mentioned above, but I’m tired of sharing him with Al. Things got pretty heated when I pointed out that things go downhill when Al is here. When the kids mention that maybe Al is taking up too much of daddy’s time, I feel like it’s time to show Al the door. Nope. It ain’t easy. Al doesn’t go kicking and screaming into the night. Al just sits there. Al doesn’t even say anything. Just sits there. I made Al leave one time. I picked Al up and heaved! Al bounced and landed next to a tree. After I left, my husband went out, picked Al up, dusted the leaves off and brought Al back in. This time, I made no demands. I didn’t throw Al out. I just tried to get my husband to remember who he is and what a wonderful person he is without Al’s shoulder to lean on. I have pudgy shoulders and they are a little low for my hubby but he is always welcome to lay his head down and let me love him.

This is one of life’s little tests. I think it was sent to test us all. What kind of reaction does each member of the family circle have in relation to Al’s return and/or leaving? Before, I wouldn’t care if Al made a visit. A very short-lived visit as long as Al is gone for good by the next day. Now, I’m not so sure. Al needs to go back to where Al belongs in the scheme of things. My hubby loves me and he loves his children. It will be interesting for the next few days to see just how far Al has gotten away from us.

I can’t rant and rave that Al is the root of all evil or even just a little evil. Al is what you make of that friendship. It’s just like anything else in life…. you can’t do friends and family and sports and whatever else constantly. Everything needs to be set in its own little place and in moderation.

So now that I’ve gotten that out and off my chest, what do I do next? Al hasn’t been by here in the last few days so I’m guessing that I should go with support without it seeming like support. My hubby is an adult and must make his own decisions. I *will* be behind him, holding him the best I can.

Lord, please give me strength.

Coyotes, Cow Goblins, and Sermon

Boogie’ism:

Daddy, is it the girl dog who lays the puppies?

~

This is a nice long one about coyotes, cow goblins, testicles and some sermon:

My 11 year old son is afraid of cow goblins. What are cow goblins? I don’t know.

It started when my son (Cae) heard about a woman who was attacked and killed by coyotes in another state. We have a game camera at the end of our garden that makes pictures of the wildlife walking by and eating at the feeder. Of course, we got a few pictures of coyotes. This caused a little concern in the neighborhood because of the cows who were giving birth at the time or in the future) in the pasture across from us and because they can be carriers of rabies. Around here, it’s a live and let live attitude unless we need you in our freezer to feed us in the winter (ok, people, we only eat the deer) or unless you are causing a problem. We do have opossums, raccoons and feral cats that come up on our deck to eat the cat food.

Getting back to the cow goblins….

Cae tells his older sister (Bae) about the killer coyotes. She knows there are coyotes out there, courtesy of the above mentioned game camera. He took advantage of this as all younger brothers would have done and scared the daylights out of her one night.

Move on after a few weeks of taunting his sister…. Cae goes out to the big trash can to roll it to the road. For whatever reason, the cows in the pasture across from us started mooing and lowing. Loudly. Bae comes out to check on him and he is scared silly so now she teases him about the cow goblins that are coming to get him.

Go on a little further and Cae has a friend over (Eaj). He is laughing at Cae when we tell him about Cae’s aversion to the cow goblins. Eaj goes on to tell of a bull that got loose on his family’s land. His uncles went out and shot it. They dragged the bull back to the house and strings it up. Eaj is enjoying his tale of how the blood spilled out and the guts fell out through the cow’s mouth. He then proceeds to say that his Uncles were all licking their lips in anticipation of the testicles they were getting off this bull. Being that Eaj is 11 yrs old, I’m looking at him like he has lost his mind. He finally smacks himself on the head and oh no…. they couldn’t wait to get the TENDERLOINS.

We’ve crossed off the coyotes, cow goblins and testicles. It’s time for the sermon!

Continuing his story since he has our rapt attention, he goes on to tell about the episode of “Dirty Jobs” in which Mike Rowe has to rip out sheep testicles with his teeth. The boys ask me WHY they are taking out the testicles. I tell them it is a form of birth control (not wanting to go into anything else and wanting to get this conversation on a different track). Well of course I said the wrong thing. Duh.

Eaj says that he saw another episode of the same show where they were dealing with fat, white boy turkeys. He says, “I remember they were taking this thing like a straw [he is demonstrating at this point... omg how bad can this get.... why did I ask that????] and sticking it up the turkey’s butt. They were sucking out something, I can’t remember what”.

** I am beating my head on the desk at this point because it is my punishment for something that I have done horribly, horribly wrong and can’t remember doing it **

Being a boy, my other son says, “maybe it was poop”.

Eaj says, “nahhh, that wasn’t it. Maybe intestines? No, not that…. I KNOW!!! They were sucking out the SERMON!! That way they could put in the girl turkey and they could lay eggs!”.

There is no way to end this post and I’m not even going to try.

Hit ‘n’ Miss

You know what? I was distracted.

Again.

Yes, I know. I can’t believe I was distracted even for a  - I’m so thirsty. I’ll finish this when I get back.

lolololol

How about a ‘hit ‘n’ miss’ post?

I had a GREAT moment today. That moment of “wow! I think I actually accomplished something today!”. Not just laundry, my friends, but a graphic. I have always wanted to come up with a graphic that was cool, exciting, eye-catching and meaningful. What I usually ended up with was boring, almost a replica, eyes glazing over and nothing left to the imagination. Not today! Many hours and many layers in Paint Shop Pro© later, I had that Hallelujah moment! It may not mean squat to anyone else but by crackedy, it was mine!

Another upside – I was able to downgrade the cable service. It was definitely a check on the good list. I dropped $50 off of my cable bill. I was also able to disconnect my grandmother’s service (she moved into another room at a facility where she didn’t need to pay for cable) and did so with a very pleasant customer service rep. A BIG THANK YOU to Melissa at Time Warner Cable!

Slight downside – I can’t downgrade my service on my cell phone. AT&T has got me over the barrel 6 ways from Sunday. Hook, line and sinker. I didn’t get bent out at anybody because I consider this my own mistake. I should have read the fine print although I would appreciate it if big businesses weren’t so greedy. I also had to ‘move’ the land line phone in my grandmother’s room to another room (it is right now the hall, just around the corner in the same building). Windstream charged $64 to move the line. I guess it doesn’t bother the big boss at the top of the heap at Windstream that they just charged an 83 year old lady who can barely afford to stay in the facility, is legally blind and is dependent on others to get through the day $64 to move that line. She does have the long distance package but it is to call both of her sisters. They can’t call her because of the long distance toll. I thought that in business, 99% of the time every thing is black and white with no gray area (no exceptions). I think this is a myth. In business, it is all about the (perceived and often imagined in BIG business) red and green.

Ooops. Jumped on that soapbox, didn’t I?

What else is going on in my wee life that I need to bore you to tears with?

I had a comment on a post I made wayyyyyyyyyyyy back in June of 2009. I had to go back and re-read it to understand what the comment was all about. In the commenter’s own way, the person was trying to point out the errors (his implication) in my post. I feel like I need to point out some things. At the time of the post, I was trying to think of things to post on the Methodist Church blog. Something. Anything to get it jumpstarted. I wasn’t sure what was ok to post and what was on the no-no list so I decided to try to go through the Bible from A to Z. I didn’t want to try to convert anyone to anything, most especially since I am not set in my beliefs myself. I did try with the Book of Ezra but I blew that one. At least I tried. I think I would like to try to start up again where I left off but do it on more of a “research” point of view. I had that thought in mind when I started but then it morphed into something else. As for the commenter, I told him that I appreciated his comments and thoughts (and I do!). I just didn’t want something made of it that wasn’t supposed to be. Mountains and molehills, subjects lost.

Of course, I could just be talking out of my head and there is not guarantee at all that anyone reads this. It’s not like my Superior Chicken Writing Prize is on the line. )

I’ve Been Good – Sorta.

My son was asked by the pizza delivery lady if he had been good. You know, this time of year that question is batted around a lot. I would say that I’m not sure if that was the reason for my son’s answer but I’m just not sure. He looked up at her with his big, blue, 8 year-old-eyes and said, “Sorta”.

That was as close to the truth as it gets so was my youngest son replying honestly for the ‘truthfulness’ of it or just saying that because it was what fell out of his mouth? Who knows. We had just been having a conversation about getting presents. He was actually disappointed that he only had 2 presents under the tree. I was disappointed that it occurred to him that he only had 2 presents under the tree. My son asked me if he was getting any other presents. I told him that if he had been good, Santa might bring him some. He was sure Santa would bring him plenty (because you know, heh heh, Santa overlooks alllllllllot of things… wink, wink, nudge, nudge) but still wasn’t happy that he was only getting 2 from his daddy and me.

This is the point where I would love to say that I told my son a sad story about children starving in Ethiopia and that he had a change of heart with stars in his eyes and wants to give all those stick-think boys and girls all his toys and food.

Bawahahhahaha!!

Not gonna happen here, folks. You should have known better.

I did try that story. “There are sooooooo many kids out there who are not getting anything, no food, etc, blah, blah, blah”. He didn’t swallow that story. It’s true but he’s not taking the bait. His response to my woeful plea about waif-thin orphans who cry on Christmas morn was “I know, mom! I know!”.

Yep, my baby has a heart made of steel. Well, maybe it’s made of  aluminum foil. It does crinkle easily enough when he is upset, in trouble or disappointed. His baby tears won’t even cause it to rust; it just cleans it off and straightens it out for the next heart-breaking event (i.e. having to go to bed at 9pm, having to turn off the tv at the same time).

For some reason, he has no concept for doing good for others. I take that back, he does have the concept, he merely ignores it in favor of himself at times. His aluminum foil heart just shines like gold when he decides to give his anmama (his grandmother) something he made at school. Of course, she praises him and tells him how wonnnnnnnnderful he is. His little heart goes pitter, patter…. or rather, clink, clink.

I have tried very hard to instill a feeling and responsibility of giving into my children. The idea was not to make it a sappy thing but to enjoy the thought that they may have made someone’s day or week or even their Christmas. Christmas is a time of sharing, caring, giving and all that crap. Even though I add the “all that crap”, I still know and enjoy that feeling I get when I have done something for someone without them knowing who did it. Could there be a sappy side to me? I think not. It’s covered in aluminum foil.

All fun aside, I was definitely disappointed to know that my son was seriously counting on ‘more’ presents. Don’t tell me I’m expecting too much of him. I think I’m not expecting enough. 8 years old may be young but it is still old enough for certain responsibilities and old enough to think of others. He is a good boy at heart and I love him with all of mine. His answer to the pizza delivery lady was spot on. He has been good this year. He did try to kiss on his sister to make his brother smile. He did try to keep his room clean for a week. There are a myriad of things he has done and has done well. On the other hand, he has had his moments. The time he tried to kiss on his sister just to make her ‘squeal like a girl‘ and the times he backed out of promises he made to his brother (I’ll help you do the dishes…. nahhhh, I don’t feel like it now.).

He is a good boy. Sorta.

Read My Brain

The front came through yesterday and today. Even had I not read or heard about it, my legs and hips would have told me so. They were doing their doggone best to scream it to everyone within a 10 mile radius yesterday. Today was not as bad. Yes, it was rainy and cold most of the day but I’m sure it served some greater purpose. Of course, I might not be so generous if tomorrow and the next day were copies of today. I can only take so much. My pain tolerance is nil. I’m allergic to pain; I break out in sweat and screams. It’s not a pretty reaction.

Today I was remembering this past Saturday. My husband and my oldest nephew (7 yrs old) were on our deck with other kids. My nephew told my husband that his mama could “read his brain”. As I related that story to his mother (my sister), she said it was because she gets email updates from the teacher before he gets home. When he comes in the house, she lays her hand on his head and tells him what he did that day.It was quite comical as my nephew is very serious about most things he says and he was definitely serious about this.

Now what happened in my home that made me think of it? Well, I have told my children millllllllllllllllllions of times not to put clean clothes in the dirty clothes hamper. Of course, putting the clean clothes in the hamper is wayyyyyyyy easier than putting them where they belong. As a matter of fact, I had told my youngest son (8 yrs old) on Saturday to put his clean clothes away before they got dirty. He was playing with the aforementioned nephew at the time. What was I thinking, asking him to stop playing and put up his clothes? I’m only his mother. It’s not like I’m his teacher or his anmama (translation:  grandmother).  I most definitely couldn’t be his favorite person, his ‘daddy’ (that would be because my winky fell off and made me into a girl…. another story for another time!) There were other things for me to do since we were having our family Thanksgiving Dinner in a few hours.
Skip right over to today which is Wednesday. A mere 4 days from Saturday. Plenty of time to have those pesky clothes at least shoved in

the closet or under the bed.
No.
Not at my house.

Here is where I stop and ask the universe why my children honestly think I’m the most stupid person who ever lived? Maybe they don’t think that in so many words but I *know* they think I’ll never notice. What have I done that makes them think this, especially when they’ve been caught 99 times out of 100? Was it just that one that slipped by that gives them hope? What can I do to SQUASH that hope? It has caused me no end of aggravation.
Yes, I do realize this is part of growing up and children everywhere are the same. It doesn’t mean I have to like it or accept it. It doesn’t mean I can’t whine either!
I do love my children. I love them with all my heart and soul. I just want this “I’ll slip it by her” phase OVER with. Another phase that is just as aggravating will take its place.
*Sigh*

Where was I?
Oh yeah…. I told both of my sons to bring their dirty laundry into the bathroom where we wash and dry said dirty laundry. I told them to make sure they got their school uniforms out and to put them in the washing machine.
Uh huh. Like that was going to happen. They did manage to get their hamper to the correct area but left it there. At this point, I just bite my tongue and remind myself that I may have had to concede to a draw in this battle but the war was yet to be won.

So here I go…. digging out the school uniforms. Tugging, pulling, turning them right side out, gagging on the stench. (Why are little boys so smelly??????) Half way into the mesh hamper, there are several wet washcloths laying on top of what appears to be a uniform shirt. Yuck, throw them to the side to be washed next. Lean back down and pull the shirt up. It’s stuck. This is not good. Why would a shirt be hard to pull out?

Let me tell you…. because it was STILL ON THE DANG HANGER!!!!!!!!!!

AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I modulated my voice to carry softly on the breeze (translation: I screamed for him from the other end of my house).
“Why?”, I ask my son. This is the same son who can take things apart, put them back together and then tell you step by step how he did it.

This is the same son who passed tests that scored his intelligence with flying colors.
This is my baby child.
My sweet, innocent boy with the wide blue eyes says, “but mama, it was an accident… I didn’t see it”.
Yeah, it was kind of hard to see it when you scooped it up with the rest of the clean clothes and dumped them in the hamper.

He wasn’t even that worried that he was caught. He was just in awe that I knew the clean clothes were in there.

Yeah, maybe sometimes we can read their brains.

Box of Ornaments

Ahhhhhhhh…….. It’s the day after the Thanksgiving holiday. The day the kids go back to school and I try to resume my normal, no hurry, nap-taking time. Believe it or not, I’ve got a bit o’ oomph today. Don’t get excited, it’s just a little bit. Of course, that little bit of oomph deflates and ‘poofs’ in a hurry if I walk upstairs and into the living room. It’s crowded with Christmas stuff, spread out in a not-so-great circle with the tree heading it off at the top. Before I go any further, let me just say that I would like to thank whoever (whomever?) came up with the idea of permanently adding lights to the tree. Yes, I know you can’t change them out (colored lights to white lights and vice versa) but I’m reallllllllllly good with that. Putting lights on the tree and taking lights off the tree have been historically, officially and clinically proven to taint what sanity a person has left. It taints the sanity and causes it to dissolve in a foul smelling cloud where it dissapates into the ceiling until Easter comes around.
I digress.
Like I always do.
Anyway………………….
Life is not like a box of chocolates (to ruin the quote of that lovely little high-watered movie man); it’s like a box of ornaments. You have store bought ornaments, you have your handmade school ornaments (carefully crafted with small hands and a picture of your angel baby in the middle), and your ornaments from the past years at the company Christmas party. (Oh yes, I just love me some “Your Company Name Here” plastic-seam-down-the-middle, tacky, cheaper bought in bulk, not even coming with a hook ornament. The joy it gives me to look at the ornament, it allows me to remember all those wonderful back-breaking, sweaty days… oh be thankful stop whining….. on the one day they let me have off….thank goodness they didn’t bother to pay me for it… that $5 gift card bonus to McD’s is going buy me some nutritional lunch!!!….)

Oooooops, doggone it. That soap box is sooooooo tempting. It taunts me…. “vent! vent! vent for me, baby!”.

Now, life and the box of ornaments. Your little memories (aka ornaments…. stay with me here) are sitting there very innocently, waiting for you to put on the beautifully lighted Christmas tree. The first one is the company ornament. Carefully (well, maybe not too carefully…..dang,broke another one) you sweep up the glass so none of the 5 cats, the dog or one of the 3 kids (ok, ok, the hubby too) step in it. It would be something if they did though. The company has been sapping your blood for years, now it’s on to someone else. Don’t forget to get that piece the 14 lb cat is gently carrying around in his mouth. I think he is looking for the new kitten. We’ll draw our own conclusions as to why.

Let’s go with “I don’t think he is happy not to be the baby anymore” and leave it at that.

The next ornament:  A beautifully, handcrafted poinsettia with your baby’s shining face in the center. The glitter has long ago fallen off. It fell off when he brought it home to show mommy. Mommy just happened to be taking aforementioned nap, opened her eyes and saw the cascade of red and green glitter falling toward her eyes. (Note:  Glitter in the eyes AIN’T funny, no matter how much they laugh while you are doing the got-glitter-in-my-eyes-dance.) At least you got to hear, “mommy, your eyes are so beautiful when they glitter!”. You noticed the other 2 beautifully, handcrafted poinsettias with your other 2 babies’ shining faces in the center. (Sheeesh, let’s get original!!) The ornaments bring a tear to your eyes (see aforementioned falling glitter line). You go to hang all 3 on the tree. Where to put them, where to put them? Not too high, you don’t want one kid to think you think more of him/her than the others. Definitely mid-way up the tree is a good place. Do you put them in birth order? Alphabetical order? Color order? Order in which they lost their teeth? You spend a good 30 mins worrying about placement. You bite your bottom lip until it bleeds. Finally, you decide to go with birth order. It’s not like you could help that.

If they ask why they are in that order, you can always say it was daddy’s idea. (heh heh heh)

Dig around the box and get the rest of your “beautifully, handcrafted with smiling faces” ornaments out and hang on tree.

Now on to the store bought ornaments. This is a dilema for you. You love the tree with just “beautifully handcrafted with smiling faces” and you are very proud of the “beautifully handcrafted with smiling faces” ornaments but one year (just one year!!), you’d like to dress up the tree like you want it to look. Maybe all red glitter balls (maybe not glitter, still having nightmares) with white lights and gold bows. Maybe a primitive american look or even a pink and lime green boa tree (I just can’t handle that but I put it in to be fair). Holding this thought and standing firm, you ran to the store last year before it was time to put up the tree. You bought everything you could see in your mind that covered that fantasy tree (no, no naked cowboys on this tree, he complains about the sticking needles and the lights getting too hot close to his, ummmmmmmmmmm, Christmas decorations. Besides, it took way too much rope to hold the tree in place last year. It kept falling over everytime he threw the rope and yelled “yeehaw!” Not to mention your hubby was not impressed.).

Where was I? Oh yeah, the store bought ornaments.

Carefully, oh so carefully, you pull each one out of it’s Wal-Mart box (you thought I’d buy expensive with 3 kids, 5 cats, 1 dog and a husband???) and add a hook. Walk over to the tree and find a suitable branch. Hang that ball. Oh, it’s so pretty! So shiny! So… in so many pieces now that the hidden cat in the tree (unbeknownst to you, obviously) has batted it off that perfect branch.
GET OUTTA MY TREE!
GET OUTTA MY TREE, YOU FAT LAZY FURBALL!!
Cat leaves. Not quietly but meowing at the top of his lungs, alerting every feline Tom, Dick, Harry, & Sally to his plight. The owner has unfairly removed his person (catself?) from the tree in a criminally insane manner (that’s HIS story, skanky cat). He did stop caterwauling for a moment to check and clean his Christmas Ornaments.
You still have an almost full box of ornaments. Oh wait, you have to stop and sweep it all up. At least you left out the broom and vacuum from the previous ball explosion. You look at the tree skirt… is that glitter or broken glass? Oh well, it’s sparkly and that’s season cheer, right?

At this point, as you noticed before, you still have more store bought ornaments. The caterwauling did it’s job and all the animals are hereand watching. And waiting with baited (yes, bait) breath. Will she do it? Will she hang up more toys? Oh boy oh boy oh boy.
You know that is what they are thinking. There is also a touch of sadness in their eyes. They seem to regret the decision you made to buy a tree with lights already attached. They could have used a string to swing from one side to another.

Roll your eyes. Ignore cats. (oh if only you had known)

Hang the rest of your store bought ornaments as fast as you can. You are down to only two ornaments. The cats are still waiting, watching patiently.

The dog, on the other hand, has gotten alllllllllllllll excited because “she’s moving fast! she’s bouncing! she’s saying short words! she wants to play!”.
The dog is a runt size boxer, an old dog with a white muzzle who hasn’t see the puppy side of life for at least 8 years but NOW she has decided she is a puppy again. Galloping in from the bedroom, windows shaking, balls on tree knocking, dog nails clicking on the floor, she launches herself at you. With an ornament in each hand, you holler (in your most stern voice… or was it a girly scream?)

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SIT!!!!!!!!!!!! (As if she listens when she’s not excited.)

Miracles of all miracles, the old dog tries to stop. She throws her head back, realizing that maybe this puppy play isn’t for her, and…………….

SHE SLIDES across the hardwood floor. “AAAARRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

(Yes, officer, the accident took place in the living room at approximately 9:34am. The oncoming body was heading south at approximately 90 mph with no signage to direct it. The owner was frozen in place, facing northwest. As a witness to the carnage, I was sitting right here minding my own business, cleaning my own ornaments when the collision occurred. The result was what you see here, a urine puddle in the floor being soaked up by the tree skirt, the other witnesses hiding in the falling tree, and the owner in the floor, both hands in the air, holding up what was left of two broken red glitter balls.)

A few hours later, you have caged the cats, thrown the dog out and finished the tree. The peace was only broken a few times with pointed “small words”.  The kids are coming off the bus, the husband is coming in the back door and the mother, well your mother is stuck in traffic on the parking lot formerly known as I85/I77. She’ll be here to witness the triumphant in an hour or two. The kids come in, jumping up and down and declaring it the most beautiful tree in the world. The husband takes in the scene, smiles and quietly exits into the bedroom (dang chicken).

Life is like a box of ornaments.
Company ornaments:  nice thought but if broken, no big deal (things that may matter at the time but don’t anymore, the memory that may come and go, “no skin off my nose”)
Beautifully Handcrafted ornaments:  made with love and pride (things that do matter and things to cherish because love was made into them)
Store Bought ornaments:  Oh yes, the good intentions and the attraction (uh huh… the road to hell is paved with good intentions, it makes a difference if you give up or persevere)
Da Tree:  You went through all of those experiences and what do you have? The glorious result, filled with wonderful memories and a touch of everyone you love, including yourself.
The Cats and Dog:  will find love at the pound, I’m sure.

Yeah, yeah, maybe that wasn’t all that good but feel free to think it through yourself.

Dukes Mayo

There is no doubt that Dukes Mayonnaise is one of the foundations of southern style eating. I love this stuff! Creamy with just the right amount of zing…. it makes a nanner sammich a thing of beauty. I sincerely wish I liked to eat tomatoes. I can imagine that there would be nothing else that said yummm like a good mater sammich with a load of mayo, a little salt & pepper between 2 pieces of Bunny bread. Even so, the nanner sammich is enough for me.

But let me say as well that it adds that zing to ranch dressing, cheese balls, potato salad, slaw and chicken salad. I’m sure it works just as well in tuna salad but I just can’t push myself past that tuna smell. My mother went through a “tuna” diet of some sort when I was young. I still twitch at times, thinking about the smell that permeated every part of our house.

We also use it on any and all sammiches including (but NOT limited to) grilled cheeses, sloppy joes and bologna sammiches. I bet we go through GALLONS of it every month or two. Of course, there are 6 people who live here and many more who come over and spend the night with the kids. Yes, I know that it is greasy and adds many layers of fat to my belly (that wonderful *visceral* fat…. nothing says loving like adding padding by way of mayo!). It is, believe it or not, sugar free and cholestoral free! Whether it was or not, I’d die happy if my assassin was the mayo man. You know how the southern cooks use words like “slather” and “dredge”. This is because of 3 things. Lard, Butter (my absolute ALL TIME FAV! My love for butter is another post for another time.) and mayo.

Just as an FYI on Dukes… an obviously lovely southern lady from South Carolina, Ms Eugenia Duke, is the creator of Dukes Mayonnaise. It is still made in Greenville, South Carolina although now, according to the Dukes web site, they churn out about 240 jars per minute. I think Dukes is like Sundrop and has not been very far past its borders. I’m pretty sure you can’t find it in the west. The best thing is that the company hasn’t screwed around with the recipe. It’s the same as it was over a hundred years ago. (Take THAT, Pepsi & Coke!!)

For more information and a way to buy the creamy dream…. http://dukesmayo.com/

Oh and no, I’m not trying to sell it. It just struck me as something I wanted to jabber on about on the blog. )
Go Dukes Mayo!

A Fourth….

I do believe my mind is flip flopping all over the place again. The ideas I want to put down are swirling around, a wisp of thought floating by and gone again. You’ll just have to put up with the dizzying turns my mind is taking if you read this. Don’t say I didnt’ warn you. )

Happy July 4th. Isn’t it wonderful that we can be here to utter that oft said phrase?

It is so easy to let it roll of the tongue with a corner of your mouth curled into a small smile for the person passing by.

Keeping my eyes straight ahead I walk down the sidewalk, enjoying the sights and sounds of people celebrating the day. Do they really celebrate the day or celebrate because they have an excuse to celebrate? I’m just as much into it as everyone else; it is fun to be jolly and have a good time.

But… do any of us take the moment to think back to why we are doing this? It is not my intention to tell a history lesson. I wanted to mull over what we, as a nation, are doing today. There are many articles and speeches today about taking the moment to appreciate the fact that we can do this, this moment of reflection. I’m not crazy about using that term, ‘reflection’, because it is not something I think people do at all anymore unless it there is a specific reason to do so such as making speeches and writing articles.

I am going to try not to be a hypocrite and tell anyone to reflect. I am going to try to do it myself though. I do sincerely appreciate what our forefathers have done for us. I do appreciate what our troops do for us today and all of those years in between.

As a person, I’m not sure I would be in this frame of mind if it wasn’t for a family member who is in the armed forces at this moment, serving overseas away from his family and home. I love my sister and for her husband to be away from her and their boys is terrible but I believe in what he is doing. My husband, who has never served, is the apex of our family. I believe in him just as much because he believes in our great nation and the values we try to uphold. He may never serve his country in a position where he has to fight. I truly hope it never comes to that but he is just as much a believer as those who place themselves in dangerous situations.

So maybe we should celebrate not only what our nation has achieved, not only what our troops are achieving now but also the fact that we are here holding the values that we live. I can hope that the American people are subconciously thinking about the reason we have this day while they party on.