March 31, 2005
Learning from comments
There are some days that I can learn more about people by reading the comments on their blog and ignoring the posts completely.
I must say that I got a big shocker. I found out that my Feisty blog sistah is actually a brother. She He is a cross-dresser as a matter of fact. I know I’ll need to spend some time with him in the near future, because if he wants to keep wearing those fishnet stockings, he better dayum well learn how to shave his legs. I can’t let my brother been seen in public with nubs, you hear what I’m saying? I've got a reputation to uphold.
And oh dear God in Heaven, what the heck happened to Zonker? Ok, his wheels need to be rebalanced from time to time but I’ve always considered him one of the saner ones. Now I know I'm one nugget short of a happy meal, but TIGHTS? HE.WEARS.TIGHTS? And he looks remarkablly like Michael Jackson. I found this out when I was checking out Catfish (ahem, his blog, not his body) and read a comment by Maeve, which utimately brought me the proof.
That's about all I have time for today. What about you? Have you read any good comments lately?
Posted by Moogie at 03:43 PM | Comments (7)
Aloe plant question
I'm seriously glad that Key brought up this subject on her blog, which let me to Velociman's take. This gives me a good opening to ask a question, and not look like the complete, clueless fool that I am. For the record, I did not want to ask my neighbor about it, because in my neighborhood, gossip travels, and they already think I’m strange enough.
My neighbor came by and gave me an aloe plant.
Ok. Thank you.
I think I stared at her blankly for about 5 minutes. I mean I really loved the fact that she brought me a plant. That was sweet. But they aren’t the best looking things, and the particular plant in question looked as though it may have taken one too many tokes in its formative years. By the way she was looking at me, I got the impression that she was waiting for me to drop down to my knees and bow to the almighty superiority of this prickly little medicinal houseplant.
She went on to tell me that the aloe plant was her savior and, and continued to sing rhapsody about all of its virtues. I nodded my head, and made appropriate noises (Amen sister!) and gave the impression that I knew just what she was talking about.
It seems like everyone else does. I come from Silicon Valley folks. The only aloe I know of comes in bottles, in the form of a lotion or gel. Or you plant it in your front yard with some cactuses in order to complete that dessert landscaping theme many Californians subscribe to.
My question to you? I've got the plant. How do I use it? What do I use it for? I’m really not being sarcastic here. I’d like to know. In the mean time, I need to work on that little guy and see if I can make him perk up a bit. I’ve got a windowsill with his name on it.
Educate me. Please?
Posted by Moogie at 11:58 AM | Comments (7)
March 30, 2005
Name that child!
Tomorrow my baby turns 7. SEVEN. Yes, 7. Where did the time go?
She has informed me that it is time for her to be called someone other than Midget. I've given to understand that she has outgrown the name.
So, I'm opening up the platform to my readers. What should her new name be now that she is going to be SEVEN.YEARS.OLD!!!? Yes, 7. Did I tell you that she was going to be SEVEN tomorrow?
She's going to be the sole judge here, so make it good. I've included a picture of her to help.
Just click on it to make it bigger.
Posted by Moogie at 06:22 PM | Comments (11)
Belated Easter Humor
Ok, I'm a little behind the 8 ball on this one.
Posted by Moogie at 06:12 PM | Comments (2)
Finding a balance
Chickie is in softball. Fast pitch by a machine. She is the catcher. She's good, or so the coach says, but then again, she's my child, so would she be anything but good? Of course I’m not biased. Quite frankly, I just want her to have fun. Yes, it's nice when she gets recognition but I've come to the realization that looking at her animated face when she talks about softball is all I need to know that I'm doing the right thing.
She loves the game.
If you don't count tonight's practice.
She got hit in the "privates" as well as smashed on the thumb. Both by a ball from that blasted machine.
I had to laugh. The coach thought I would be upset at her injuries. He was poised like a man on the defensive, ready to defend himself against a potentially lethal mama bear. I don't buy into that theory. When your child plays sports, the likelihood of injury is high. When you play a position like catcher, the odds go up. Deal with it. Or don't let your child play. I think I've finally convinced him that I won't be running him down in the parking lot when he least expects it.
It's times like these that you need to measure just exactly what it is your child is telling you. I am not forcing her to be catcher. To be quite frank, I'd just assume she was in a safer position. Like an outfielder. About a mile away. But that's not what she wants. It's my job, as long as it isn't detrimental to her health, to fully support that. In fact, the only thing I do is support her, IF that's what wants.
Like I said. She had a bad night. She was discouraged. She didn't want to quit but wasn't too sure she wanted to play catcher anymore. Can you blame her? Man, I'm hurting just thinking about it.
In situations such as these, a parent has to draw the line. When do you say, enough is enough? I tend to wait. As you parents know, that's not always easy because you want to jump in and support your child and by God, if she had a bad day and wants to quit softball altogether and become a nun I am so behind her it's not funny. Ok, that’s stretching it, but you get my point. Ever go through that?
But what lesson does that teach your child? Giving up is ok when you run into some rough patches? That's not really going to help her later on down the road.
I issued the-on spec hugs and kisses, murmured words of support and more importantly just listened. And she talked. And I listened some more. The more she talked, the better she felt. I didn't confirm nor negate her thoughts. I was just there.
I'm about ready to get her into the shower. Then maybe we'll read some more of her book that she's completely into. Maybe we'll just talk and giggle. But I'd imagine she'll be calming down some and that a good nights sleep will do wonders.
And I think we may just be donning that catcher's mask at practice tomorrow.
Posted by Moogie at 06:09 PM | Comments (3)
March 29, 2005
The interrogation
In a weak moment, I volunteered to be interviewed by my seriously talented and intelligent feisty baby sister, Christina. Call it a lapse in judgment, call it sheer stupidity, but the fact of the matter is, I now have to come through with the answers.
Truth be told, I’m not one to open up about myself. I’m intensely private in the areas that really count. It’s not so much that I have dark secrets, per se, but more because I lack the necessary self-confidence to believe that anyone would be remotely interested in any part of my life. I am also constantly fighting the battle to convince myself that it is ok if you don’t please everyone all the time. For most of my life, I have cared deeply about what people think about me. In many ways, I feel that I have come up short. I’m not good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, skinny enough, funny enough. The list is endless, and to go on would only prolong the inevitable. So without further ado, here are my answers to those questions.
Anyone reading your blog even once will definitely have a feel for what a warm and wonderful mother and wife you are. You seem to have a full life just as a mom, wife, and career woman. What does blogging add to you already full life?
First off, let me say thank you for those kind words. I feel very fortunate to have the family that I do have. I love my children even though they drive me to distraction at times. I am blessed with a husband who I feel is my partner, and I cannot fathom the possibility of not having him in my life. There aren’t many people who can say that.
There was a time in my life in which there was a distinct possibility that I would not be able to have biological children. If left to my own devices, I am infertile. Suffice to say, I did not suffer the medical intrusions on my body that many women go through, but I have been poked, prodded and hormonally adjusted more times than I care to talk about. It was a dark period in my life and one that I still have trouble talking about. The ups and downs of infertility treatment are painful to express, and, quite frankly difficult to explain to someone who hasn’t gone through it. I won’t go into details, but suffice to say, with medical intervention, I was able to have two beautiful, healthy, happy children. I’ll leave it at that.
As far as my career, I am my father’s daughter. I am anal in my work ethics. If it were not for my children and husband, I would be a workaholic. I have been with the same company for nearly 23 years, and have worked my way through various positions until I found my niche. I was fortunate enough to have someone who believed in me and was willing to pay for me to move across country, lock, stock and barrel. Even with that realization staring me in the face, I still have trouble believing I am good enough. My boss refers to me as a “subject matter expert” or SME. I think the terms they use are somewhat humorous yet at the same time they push me work harder. You see, after all is said and done, there is a large part of me that believes I am not worthy, so I must work harder to prove myself. I cannot allow myself to fail.
By now, I’m sure you are asking yourself why I am telling you all of this. Simply put, all of these reasons put together are a large part of the reason that I blog. Blogging is the way that I relieve the pressures of every day life. I vacillate from humor to seriousness. I suppose you could call me a mood writer. I love to share stories about my children, my husband or my life. I enjoy writing. It’s soothes me, and it helps me slow down my mind which is consistently set at warp speed. It brings balance into my world and helps me prioritize my responsibilities of life, family and work. In other words, it forces me to take time to smell the roses. Does that make sense?
You are signed up to attend the Georgia Writers Workshop in Jekyll. Just what are your expectations of the bloggers you will meet? Specifically, what mental images do you have of the bloggers slated to attend? And if you were to put those mental images into yearbook style categories (i.e., most likely to succeed, sexiest, geekiest, etc.) who would be labeled what?
I would have to say that my expectations are all over the board. I am both looking forward to and dreading the aspect of attending. Kind of depends on what hour of the day it is. It’s a big step for me because I’m not at ease meeting new people, but I’ve been taking steps in my life to change that. And it’s getting easier. I am really nervous about meeting everyone, but I would imagine after the initial awkward moment, I should get over that and set out to have a seriously good time. I hope.
I don’t know if it would be easy to put the possible attendees in a category, but I’ll do my best to give you my impressions on the who and what I think they are. It will be interesting to see just how far off the mark I am when I meet them.
Christina(Feisty Repartee): Since she is the one who is interrogating interviewing me, I thought it was prudent to start with her. In my mind Christina is a beautiful and intelligent woman, who is seriously confident in her life. She is precise and smooth in her writing style and she gives you the opinion that you wouldn’t want to face her in a courtroom. That’s a serious compliment. Basically, she’s an extremely knowledgeable lady, and doesn’t enter into anything lightly. I can’t wait to meet her in person. I want to see if the image I have of her in my mind matches up. Who cannot like a person who gives her daughter a make-shift Field Sobriety Test after her Hydrocodone kicks in?
Voted: Most likely to succeed.
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Kim (Velociman): For me personally, Kim is somewhat of an enigma. I have never communicated with him directly (only via the blog comments). When I read his posts, I often walk away scratching my head. His command of the English language, and usage of vocabulary is quite extensive and at times, far surpasses my field of understanding. It’s my belief that if I can meet him in person, I can somehow grasp the basis of his personality, thus lessoning my confusion and general fogginess of his messages.
Voted: Most likely to be a demented college professor.
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Rob (Acidman): There have been too many times that I have wanted to slap Rob upside the head. But as I’ve gotten to “know’ him through reading his blog I’ve realized something. I think Rob could be considered and instigator. He posts for a reaction. Does he really feel what he writes? Most likely. But I also think he does it to jump-start his readers into a reaction. And he’s dayum good at it. I’m sure a lot of his opinions are based upon life experiences, and I’m sure that has been a rough road for him. But I think he wants to get a reaction from his readers. Either negative or positive.
Voted: Most likely to be the president of a Labor Union
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Key (Key Issues): I picture (because of what I have read) Key being a long legged longhaired blond. A real beauty with brains. Adding that to the fact that she is a foster mom. You just have to admire that. At the same time she’s touchable, if that makes any sense. She carries no airs. She is exactly who she says she is, and, I’m sure, then some. She’s probably the first of this list that I started to read on a regular basis. I’m still trying to get past the fact that she performs pimple-ectomies on her face, but hey, a gal has to have some sort of a vice.
Voted: Most popular
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Dax (The Dax Files): With Dax, I always have Hollywood pop in my mind. Again, I’ve never corresponded with him before. If you don’t count the fact that I wrote him and told him that his comment section was down, and he posted about it. He’s in the restaurant business, which is in my book, not an easy career. If I had to put him in a category, I’d have a difficult time. With the picture up on his blog (I’m not sure if it’s him), he seems mysterious. I’m sure I’ll find I don’t know him all that well, once I meet him.
Voted: Most likely to be a Private Investigator
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Catfish (Catfish):I have no idea what his real name is, but it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what people call him in real life. When I think of Cat, I think of the words “shoot from the hip.” He says what’s on his mind. Period. I think one of my favorite posts is the one where he “crapped” (ahem) in his pants. It all started with a single fart. He just went on and told the entire story, unedited. I’m still laughing. With Cat, it’s “What you see is what you get.” And to top that off, he doesn’t live all that far from me.
Voted: Most friendliest
I know there are a lot of others attending but I’ve just now really started to visit their blogs on a regular basis. I can tell you that I’m excited (and nervous) about meeting all of them. It seems as though they are all a great group of people.
Do you have a blog idol? Who is he/she and why?
Now that would be telling. I have several that I really enjoy reading. They all cover a variety of topics. I try to visit those folks on my blogroll at least 2-3 times a week. Some every day. Some I have regular correspondence with. But as of this moment, no, I don’t have a favorite. I am, of course, open to bribes.
Your children are clever and gorgeous and obviously make up a large part of what you write. Ten or fifteen years from now, do you anticipate that they will have access (perhaps in hardcopy form) to all that you have written? If so, are you cognizant of the treasure you are preserving for them as you write and what do you think they will think?
I’m glad you agree with me that my children are clever and gorgeous. Of course, I’m not biased or anything. It’s interesting that you should ask this question. My kids are a very important part of my life. It’s not like anyone doesn’t understand that after reading my blog, but they are. There is no written history of our family life. I feel that blogging on stories about the kids, the family, and my life, whatever, will be a hard copy that they can read in the future. I plan to arrange it so they do have access, whether I continue to blog (most likely) or not. It’s their history. I want to have it written down with them so that they can share it with their kids as well. One of the things that I will be doing in the future is adding stories about my parent’s life, and things that have happened to them. Even things that happened to us as kids, that perhaps, I don’t remember or haven’t written about. For example, my dad was a Marine. He’s told me so many stories (and a lot of them really funny) about his service. I’d like to get that down on paper.
Do you censor yourself when you think about topics or genres when you write for your blog? If you could post something anonymously on a secret blog, what type of writing, issue, or genre would you post? Any thoughts of erotica or romance?
Phew. That’s a loaded question. On the one hand, yes, I censor it. A lot of it is because my family reads it, but also, I really don’t want to offend the readers I do have. It’s a delicate balance and I’ve been feeling my way around that one for a while. I’m slowly coming out of that mode, and opening up a bit. I’m trying to write about different things. I hope to keep on doing it.
As far as posting in a secret blog, if I tell you that, wouldn’t that blow my censorship out of the window? Be that as it may, I’ll go ahead and answer it. I would probably (and have thought about) have a blog about erotica. I’ve written a few stories, and have several in my head, that I’ve not put into words. I’m not talking about the seriously kinky. I’m not into pain or animals. I have a vivid imagination. I’ve shared my stories with just a couple of people (and not always my husband), and am not adverse to sharing them with others for their thoughts. But it’s not like you can go up to or email a person/friend and say, “hey, do you want to read this really hot piece of heaving bosoms and throbbing thighs?”
Thanks for including me in your interview. It’s been really fun. Now, I guess my job is to interview 5 others. Let me know if you want to be included.
Posted by Moogie at 04:58 PM | Comments (10)
March 25, 2005
A little ray of sunshine on a cloudy day
A little ray of sunshine called me last night and gave me a good dose of cheering up and support.
I've been battling the responsibility (family, job, priorities) front for the past few days and it had finally taken it's toll on me. After dumping on her with a seriously long email, she promptly called me on the phone and gave me a wonderful pep talk.
I don't remember much of what was said of the conversation. I'm pretty sure it was the same thing I wrote to her about. She just gave me the opportunity to get it off of my chest.
I RARELY do that. I don't know what caused me to. I'm just thankful she was there.
Thanks Christina, I owe you one.
Posted by Moogie at 09:54 AM | Comments (14)
Georgia and Child Support
I've been watching this story with interest since it came into the spotlight a while back. There is a bill that was presented to the senate Thursday that would shift the state of Georgia to a "dual income" model. In other words, it would consider the income of both of the parents, instead of the custodial parent, which is how Georgia operates now. It would also give the non-custodial parents some financial credit for the time they are taking care of their children.
A little bit behind the eight ball don't you think? It's about time I would say. We need to bring Georgia's child support laws in line with the rest of the country.
In any event, the bill fell one vote short of the 29 votes needed to pass. The plan's sponsor (Seth Harp) has asked that the vote be reconsidered. Good.
Did you ever notice that in this country, the male seems to be the one who gets screwed (in a majority of cases)? Before you cut me off at the knees and go for my jugular, I fully realize that not all cases are the same. There are men (and women) out there who never pay a dime in child support. Never visit their kids...the list goes on. There are men and women who use their children as weapons against the non-custodial parent. How sad is that?
My point is that the law needs to be structured to a more equitable (read FAIR) arrangement. Look at everything, and then balance it out. Both incomes. The amount of time a non-custodial parent spends with a child. Divorce is bad enough. Why make someone pay unfairly for the rest of his or her lives?
But here's a surprise. NOT! Most of the opponents are Dimocrats. They argue that this would force hundreds of thousands of divorce decrees to be reconsidered. And their point is? If it's broke, you have to fix it people. Senator Emanuel Jones (D-Ellenwood) was quoted as saying "We see no need to go back and put those families through a heart-wrenching process again."
Oh, ok. You're right. Let's just continue to screw the non-custodial parent for the rest of their lives, cuz, you know, we don't really want to move out of the box now do we?
Posted by Moogie at 09:49 AM | Comments (3)
March 24, 2005
I have a question for you
Have you ever, ever, at any point in your life, wanted to walk up to someone, and get into their face and say: SHUT UP!
I'm not saying that I'm tempted. I was just curous.
Posted by Moogie at 01:53 PM | Comments (12)
Back in the saddle again
I read in the paper this morning that Whitney Houston checked back into rehab again. She has something of a reputation for being a pothead and drinker. Seriously, she wears pots on her head and drinks out of the toilet. But, no matter what you say about her, she did an outstanding job on the National Anthem. Remember that?
It always saddens me to see people with such wonderful talent doing things like that. I guess fame and fortune come with a cost, eh?
Posted by Moogie at 01:50 PM | Comments (3)
March 23, 2005
How to eat a pot pie
This is a post that I've been turning around in my mind all day. Now if that doesn't tell you something about me, I don't know what will.
I have two older brothers, and all three of us ate them a different way. We had them a couple of times a month, along with a baked potato. I remember my mom would put them on a baking sheet, and the smell of them, along with the potatoes baking in the oven would, for some reason, make me feel good.
My oldest brother would take his potpie, turn it upside down, and carefully lift the foiled potpie pan, until it was released, whole, upon the plate, and upside down. It always kind of reminded me of a failed attempt at a soufflé.
The middle brother would also turn his upside down, but that's where the similarities stopped. He'd take his fork and cut it all up, mixing everything together.
I, on the other hand, never removed mine from the foiled pan. I'd carefully eat the crust on top, dipping it into the gravy. Then I would proceed to eat the filling, carefully removing the peas, and putting them on my plate. I didn't like peas then, and I don't like them now. When we had potpies, my mother would relent, and tell me I didn't have to eat them. That was the only time I was allowed to do that.
I didn't like peas then, I don't like peas now. When I was about 14 years old or so, my mother gave up trying and told me "if you don't like them by now, you probably never will." That was the last time that I have ever knowingly eaten a pea. Just ewe!
When I finished the filling, I would eat the rest of the crust. I don't really remember where the potato fit in to this picture, but it doesn't really matter.
I don't know why I thought of this, or why it was on my mind. But I did. And that, as they say, is that.
How do you eat your potpies?
Posted by Moogie at 08:59 PM | Comments (6)
March 22, 2005
Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown
I got out of work tonight at a little after 7:00. It was pitch black. Those of you who live in my "general vicinity" can attest to the fact that we had a spectacular light show (electrical storm). This of course, was accompanied by intermittent downpours in which I could see a mere 12 inches in front of me (and I'm being generous).
Lovely.
I generally LOVE electrical storms. I love thunder and lightening. I love it when it rains so hard you can't see anything. But, that is only when I am inside enjoying the view.
I talk to myself A LOT (shaddup OWW). And I was having some serious conversations with myself tonight. I've put in a full week already, and it's only Tuesday. I worked full days on both Saturday and Sunday. Not surprising for this time of year. I am tired. I am wired. I am ready to slap someone. Can you relate? I guess you may say I'm punch drunk.
Ok, I digress. Focus Moogs, focus. So, I'm on the road (most of it country, small amount freeway) when all of this was happening. The skies were lighting up, and the colors were vibrant. But dang, there was a lot of lightening.
Needless to say, it was a long ride home. In order to sooth my nerves before I could get home to some alcohol to self medicate, I turned on the tunes. Dudes...MUSIC ROCKS! I turned it up as loud as this old decrepit body could stand.
The song that was on was Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown. I was rockin. Seriously rockin. My fears subsided by the music. I was one with Leroy man. He was protecting me. He was bad! Ain't nothin nasty gonna happen to me with him around.
Appropriately enough, the next song was "Jeremiah was a Bullfrog." Dayum I love that frog!!!! (See reference to those who live in my vicinity).
Posted by Moogie at 08:33 PM | Comments (5)
March 21, 2005
Should I be worried about this?
Midget came into the office while I was catching up on things and said "don't worry mommy, me and Chickie are cleaning everything up. Nothing was broken." And promptly walked out of the room.
Just wondering.
Posted by Moogie at 06:48 PM | Comments (6)
The Georgia Wave
It didn't take me very long to realize what people meant when they used that term here. Once the weather started to come out, the gnats descended upon the masses, much like a wild herd of stampeding buffalo, only instead of getting stomped to death, you are eaten alive.
This year, they are once again, out in full force. I am fully convinced that in the not too distant future, one of these swarms will swoop down and carry off my first born to the wilderness for a full-blown feed fest. Dayum, but those little buggers bite!
Some important things to remember are not to dawdle when getting into, or out of a car during this time. Because if you do, you will have more living beings in your car than you have seat belts for. I figure it averages about 100 per 30 seconds. Another significant point is, DO NOT WALK THROUGH A SWARM OF GNATS WITH YOUR MOUTH OPEN. A Georgian style do-it-yourself tonsillectomy.
Now, back to the wave. The Georgia Wave is simply when people take one hand (and at sometimes two, when it's really bad) and wave it wildly in front of their face. I'm given to understand that tourists mistake that for a symbol of the Georgian Hello. This could not be further from the truth, and if they are here during the gnat season, it does not take them long to realize it.
Conversations go something like this:
"Well, hi there Bill (wave, wave, smack, wave, smack), how the heck are you? (wave, wave, two-handed wave, smack, wave, wave). We Georgian's are a bunch of mad gesticulating fools, let me tell you. Just like the Italians.
Oh, and that distinct aroma you smell? That's our perfume. Eau de la Bug Juice. It's the Este Lauder of fragrances here.
Wave, wave, smack, wave, wave, smack.
Posted by Moogie at 06:13 PM | Comments (7)
March 20, 2005
The death of a child - Part II
Besides the horrors surrounding the death of Jessica Lunsford, there is another story that is noteworthy, and nonetheless heartbreaking. Terri Schiavo.
First off, I'm not going to delve into the intricacies surrounding the government's involvement. I leave that to others, who are much more talented in that area, such as Elisson or Rob. The comments on both of those posts show that there are clearly two different opinions on this sensitive issue. Suffice to say I really see no reason for the feds to get involved. Enough said.
Truth be told, I would have a hard time being on either side of the issue. I wouldn't want to be the one making the decision to pull the feeding tube, nor would I want to be her parents or husband.
I understand fully where her family is coming from. Her parents feel she is responding to them and will do better with therapy. Being a parent myself, I can understand "hope." Speaking for myself only, I would be plagued with "what-ifs." What if she were to wake up? I can't make any judgments here. I believe in my heart that they feel that Terri is responding to them. What parent wouldn't? We are all about hope, right?
On the other hand, how much hope is too much? When is it time to face reality? I don't believe there is a concrete answer for that. We are not likely to experience an epiphany, which swoops down on us, much like a hawk zeroing in on its prey, and say "enough is enough." I think even if you got to that point, it would be hard to admit it.
Truth be told, I do have a problem with her husband. It's hard to know what to believe. I have to bite my tongue in order to keep from judging him. I only know what I read in the papers, and allot of those articles are uncomplimentary, making him out to be the bad guy. There is a part of me that says, "you want to get on with your life, then get a divorce." Not very charitable of me, I fully admit that. But then again, he is her husband, he loved her (at least at one point) and I would like to believe that he is doing what she would have wished.
Now, what decision would I make? I would hope I would be able to put my feelings aside, and make the choice that would be best for my loved one. I cannot honestly say for sure, and I pray I won't have to make it.
I can't judge here. I'm not there. I don't know all the sides of the story. I don't know Terri or her family. I cannot, in all honesty, make a sound judgment based on facts. I go strictly by my emotions here.
Like I said, I'm glad I'm not the one making a decision.
Posted by Moogie at 04:12 PM | Comments (9)
March 19, 2005
The death of a child - Part I
The death of a child is something that I cannot, in my wildest dreams, even begin to comprehend. The horror and grief brought about by such a devastating incident is something that I cannot even contemplate.
I was saddened to read that they had located Jessica Lunsford’s body, and arrested her alleged killer.
HOMOSASSA, Fla. (AP) The body of a missing 9-year-old girl was found early Saturday, more than three weeks after she disappeared from her bedroom and a day after officials said a registered sex offender said he kidnapped and killed the girl.
Christina and I chatted about this on the phone the other day. Neither one of us were sure we would ever make it if something happened to one of our children.
Can you even begin to fathom what Mr. Lunsford is going through right now?
About an hour before Dawsy's announcement, Jessica's father, Mark Lunsford, issued a brief, emotional statement to reporters. He visited the search scene shortly after sunrise."Everyone heard me say, time after time, that she would be home," Lunsford said, his eyes hidden behind dark black sunglasses. "She's home now."
The hard part to grasp is that she was taken from her bedroom in her house. I can't imagine the guilt that would be riding right along side the grief. I would forever question myself. Why didn't I hear something? Why didn't I stop it? How could this have ever happened in my own home?
It scared allot of people around here. My next-door neighbor wouldn't let her son sleep in his bedroom after the abduction. They even went so far as to buy a dog, who would alert them if there were an intruder in their house.
Things like this begin chip away at your soul, and your paranoia begins to seep through the cracks. I find myself going around to make sure all doors and windows are locked. I caution my children never to answer the door or the phone.
I'm sure the comfort level will return, as things continue to go on. The horror of this crime will diminish in my mind, long ago put in a little box that I never open, the key firmly nestled between my breasts that I dare not acknowledge.
The reasons for this are clear. At least to me. This was not my child. Not my house. Not my town. That in no way diminishes the atrocities that were thrust upon Jessica. My heart bleeds for the pain the family must be going through.
But, it wasn't my child. May I rot in hell for this, but thank God it wasn't my child.
Rest in peace little one. You are home now.
Posted by Moogie at 05:22 PM | Comments (13)
March 17, 2005
I should not be allowed around children
I'm serious. Here's the scoop.
The toads are out in full swing now and they are everywhere, especially when it rains. I was out in the garage when I spotted a really pretty one, with a multitude of colors. It was beautiful, if one could call a toad that. It's body was adorned with browns, golds, rust, all swirled around one another. Now I realize that using the word toad and beautiful in the same sentence is somewhat of an oxymoron, but that's not the point.
The point is, and I do have one, I am stupid. And.seriously.naive. (shaddup you).
After I spotted the toad, I moved in for a closer look. For the record, I do not pick up toads, nor do I let them in my house. Just wanted to make that clear. I noticed that this little creature had what looked to be a "pokey ball" (one of those irritating little round things, with sticky points all around it) stuck to it's chin.
I felt so sorry for it. Mr. Toad was so pretty and had so pulled my heart strings that I immediately called my kids to come and look at it. In the back of my mind, I knew that I could talk Chickie into picking up said toad and pulling out the pokey ball. I mean, how would I be able to sleep knowing that this amphibian was in pain? I don't want to end up like Rob, who has nightmares that involve HEIGHTS for heaven's sake.
So anyway, as I was saying, I called in the girls with the intention of having Chickie relieve Henry (I named him, yes) of his painful burden.
Chickie squatted down in front of him and promptly stated (for anyone within a mile), "Mom, that's not a pokey ball, Henry is on top of another frog" (this is where I tell you that I so need glasses but haven't been able to overcome my vanity to go for an appointment).
Midget promptly asked "Why is Henry on top of another frog?" Oh man, time to think fast. Bless litte Chickie's heart, she answered for me. "I think they do that to keep warm."
Yes, yes they do.
Posted by Moogie at 06:06 PM | Comments (9)
March 15, 2005
What a Woman Wants
The delectable demystifying divas are at it again over at my Feisty Sistah's place. They are exploring a topic for which I am sure there is no concrete answer.
What does a woman want? Why is it that my feeble brain automatically ended that sentence with "in a man?"
Skipping over the obvious "six foot two, eyes of blue," sexy, passionate and romatic response requires some deep thought and the ability to move out of the box.
In my younger days, it was all about the romance. I suppose that in the early stages of a relationship, the newness plays an integral part in the game. I find now that I really want someone who accepts me for who I am. They need to be patient and understanding. I have a seriously quick temper. It comes just as quick as it goes, so there is a need to be able to ride out the storm while the smoke is coming from my ears.
I want someone who is flexible, because, let's be honest, when you have children, the last person you need to be sharing your life with is someone who absolutely has to be on a fixed schedule.
I want someone I can be comfortable with. Whether we are talking, or whether we are just sitting together in silence. They should share some interests with me, but having other interests is an absolute must. We need to have our own things. Hey, that gives us alot more to talk about.
I want someone who understands just how important my job is to me, and realizes that the hours I keep can be long, and that business may take me to another part of the country from time to time. I need someone that, when this happens, I can trust with my children.
This man needs to realize that when I come home from work, or wherever, my first focus will be on my children. In knowing that, he will also know, that when all is said and done, it will be his turn, and he will have my full attention.
Holding hands, hugging, I love you...it's all part of the package. I need alot of that. Just knowing that he is there.
I've been married for nearly 17 years. We've had our share of ups and downs, and are now just slowly crawling out of a very deep pit. But that's what makes a marriage strong. That's what makes it last. I'm lucky enough to have a good percentage of what I want in a man in my marriage today. We take it one day at a time. The harder we work at it, the better it gets.
Posted by Moogie at 09:08 PM | Comments (4)
March 13, 2005
My Grandma's Life
Sometimes the children's homework can be interesting. I talked a few weeks ago about Chickie having to interview my parents, via phone, about what it was like for them growing up. She just now brought the graded paper home. We weren't allowed to see it until after it was through. Here is her paper, not edited by me, complete with spelling and grammatical errors.
My Grandma's Life
By: Chickie
Jobs were different then than today's life. When my grandma was growing up jobs were very scarce. The jobs were also very low paying. If women were educated they would either become a nurse or a teacher. If they were not educated, they would either clean houses or work in factories.
In my grandma's childhood if you got sick you would have to buy expensive medicines, or mabeye in some cases sweat it out of your body. When my grandpa went to war, penicillin was discovered.
There were a lot of changes too. When you grew up, you were allowed to do more things. When men went to war, women and children had to take men's jobs. Another big change was after the deppression people didn't have enough money to pay taxes and insurance.
When my grandma was a child, our choices of entertainment was listning to the radio or playing games. Some of the games they played were hopscotch, hide-and-go-seek, and jaks. Also instead of swimming pools they would play in a washtub filled with water.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``
Now, how much of our life is different than that? I love to read the children's take on things like that. What about your parents? Was there any interesting facts about when they were growing up?
Posted by Moogie at 06:44 PM | Comments (2)
March 09, 2005
Generational Ties
I read a post over on Carmi’s site that completely opened the floodgates in my mind, in which many cherished memories are stored. I thought to myself “he’s done it again.” (Darn it Carmi)
If you haven’t already done so, go read his post. He’s published it in his column and it’s well worth the read.
There are so many things I remember my parents teaching me how to do, that my mind can’t grasp, nor settle on just one.
There are the memories of helping my mother bake. The best thing about that of course, was licking the beaters and the bowl. She’d sit me up on the counter and my job, which my mother told me was exceptionally important, was to sift the flour and sugar. Occasionally, I could beat the eggs if the recipe called for it. Was I special or what? Good thing mom had me around, because, you know, she would have never been able to pull the baking off without me. How do I know that? Because she told me so. All the time.
I try to remember those memories, and what role my mother played in making them, as both of my children love to help me in the kitchen. I think to myself, “can’t you just go watch TV for a little bit?” I moan inwardly as I realize that my tasks will take me three times the amount of time to do with the little helpers, than if I had it to do on my own. But I look down at those eager little brown eyes that sweep me into their depth every time. And I melt.
Up on the counter they go and I dutifully hand out different tasks. Chickie is now getting big enough that she can (hold me) stir things on the stove. Midget is learning to crack eggs, and now can do it without leaving half of the shell in the bowl.
I find myself moving between them, comfortable with the way things are working. Listening to the incessant chatter between them, responding only when required, savoring the moments, and gathering memories.
What I thought was going to be a trial, turned out to be something that I can cherish for a long time to come.
Chickie: It’s a good thing we are helping Mommy out Midget.
Migdget: Yeah, Mommy wouldn’t have had the time to do all of this stuff if we weren’t here.
Chickie: I can’t believe you cracked two whole eggs without dropping any of the shells!
Midget: Yeah, I’m the best egg cracker.
Chickie: I’m the best stirrer.
How do my children know that, you ask? Because their Mommy tells them so. All the time.
Posted by Moogie at 03:28 PM | Comments (3)
Minimum Wage
Dash, over at The Boiling Point posted his thoughts about the politician’s failed attempt to raise the federally mandated minimum wage.
The entry was well thought out, and he stated his views quite simply. For the most part, I can agree with his analogy, but I think what he has written brings up some interesting questions that I’m not sure there is a concrete answer for.
It is true that most people can’t live on minimum wage alone, but it’s often times difficult for those who can’t, to pick up extra work to supplement their income.
Let’s use a single mom as an example. To further complicate matters, let’s say she got married right out of high school, had children, husband was a schmuck and decided to ditch them, and now she’s alone. Single mother. Broke. She’s never worked before, so what she can get amounts to a low paying job (minimum wage), with little or no benefits.
We’ll take it a step further and say she wants to get completely off of any kind of governmental assistance. With her salary, she’s able to pay the rent, and bills, but has to have assistance for daycare. Keeping that in mind, just exactly where is she going to fit in the time for another job? Assuming that she gets one, who will take care of her kids and how will she pay for that? Wouldn’t that take away any benefits of getting a second job?
If raising the minimum wage would create an economic landslide, then the government needs to provide an alternative for people who are trying to better themselves. This particular example relates to that of a single mom, but there are plenty of others out there.
That’s not to say that there aren’t folks out there that could actually go out and, for lack of a better term, “better themselves,” with a little effort, but what about those who’s hands are tied?
What are your ideas?
Posted by Moogie at 03:15 PM | Comments (5)
Spelling
Heard in the back seat coming home last night:
Chickie: "Just what part of no don't you understand?"
Midget: "The N.O. part?"
Posted by Moogie at 01:22 PM | Comments (2)
March 08, 2005
It's the bottom of the 9th!
And the bases are loaded. At the pitcher's mound, we have Mom. She's a tough one folks. Never let a kid walk since Popeye started eating his spinach. One look from her has most batters browning their cleats, and running home to Mama.
Mom's facing a tough chickie tonight. Seems this one has gotten to big for her britches. She's a catcher. And she's real good. Three coaches lobbied for her this year. There was a lot of trading. All that went to her head. She thinks she irreplaceable. Wants to sign a deal.
Obviously, she's never met Mom head on. Mom has this thing about sports. Seems they take a lower priority than school. No homework. No play. Grades go down. You're outta here!
Seems Chickie didn't believe that.
Cost of regsitering for softball: $48.00
Cost of new bat, glove and cleats: $72.50
Cost of the look on her face when mom told Coach she's pulling her out of the league: Priceless.
Let me tell you folks, it didn't feel nearly as good as watching Coach get in her face about it.
Time took to do homework tonight: 47 minutes, 32 seconds.
Mom: 1 Chickie: 0
I think it's gonna be a good season.
Update: I need to point out that I didn't actually pull her from the season, just threatened to. After her dressing down by the coach, she immediately changed her attitude. Let's see if it lasts.
Posted by Moogie at 07:43 PM | Comments (3)
March 07, 2005
Tomorrow is always a better day to die
I read an interesting post over at Inblognito that has been bothering me for a couple of days. It’s not that what she says in her post is wrong. Her reaction is what I consider to be normal. To be truthful, I’ve felt exactly the same way. Survivors of loved ones that commit suicide are angry. Angry, hurt, confused. There’s a mixture of emotions that differ from person to person.
What really bothered me was her views on depression. First off, let me point out that I am not an expert, nor do I pretend to be. This is based on my experiences, as well as those of friends and relatives in my life. The way I look at it, there are three kinds of depression. The most common is the short term depression that we all suffer with from time to time. The one that is the most normal. Then, there is the depression that is brought on by a life changing event, such as the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, or divorce. This type tends to go on for a longer period of time, and may or may not respond to drugs or therapy. Lastly, and the biggest beast of all, is clinical depression. I tend to call that the bitch of many colors.
We all know clinical depression is a mental illness. It contains a demon that is difficult to see or identify. Quite a few people have the preconceived notion that popping pills or attending intense therapy will make it go away in a blink of an eye. I wish it was as easy as that. It’s as if by some sheer force of will, the person suffering from depression could easily step out of their cloud of darkness, just as simply as one can step into another pair of underwear. ‘Cuz, you know, people who are depressed are “just a little sad.”
What causes depression? Is it environmental? Is it something your are born with? Some chemical imbalance in your brain? There isn’t just one cause, and it really doesn’t matter what the reason is. It’s there.
Think of it as being in a deep pit. A really deep pit. With concrete walls that lead straight up, never ending. Your fingertips are raw from trying to claw your way out. Each time you fail, you fall farther down in the pit. Escaping seems impossible. To top that off, there are maggots in that pit, and these maggots are tearing into your intestines, creating a physical pain that knows no bounds. This is what you are presented with. Day in. Day out. If you are lucky, you are passed a ladder (medicine). Sometimes a wrung on the ladder may break because you need something stronger. Sometimes, your ladder may not be long enough. So you adjust your ladder (medicine). With proper coaching (therapy) you may just make it up out of that pit, into daylight.
But when (if) you do escape, you are weak. And you may fall back into that pit over and over and over again. Some are luckier. Once out of the pit, they manage, with the help of drugs, and perhaps therapy, to lead a normal life (or at least close to normal). But for most, it’s a constant battle, and will be for the rest of their lives.
Do I support suicide? No. Would I like to think if I ever felt that low, I’d be able to look into the future and see brighter days ahead? Would I be able to set aside my own pain and realize what my death, by my own hands, would do to my family and friends? I would definitely hope so.
I realize I’ve oversimplified this because nothing about depression is easy. I don’t think the people who take their lives are looking at it as the easy way out. To them, at that moment in time, it’s the only way.
Thoughts?
Posted by Moogie at 07:00 PM | Comments (11)
Loma Prieta Earthquake
A few posts back I talked about earthquakes, more specifically, one of them I experienced as a child. While that one did have a profound effect on me (I was terrified of after-shocks for months), nothing prepared me for 5:04 pm, October 17, 1989.
We had just gotten home from work and were relaxing a bit with the dog. We lived in a townhouse on the west side of town, and were on the second story of our townhouse, reclining on the bed in our master bedroom. At the time, we had a queen size waterbed, the significance of which will be explained shortly.
Our dog was named Shoestrings, and he was a Miniature Schnauzer. We were just relaxing with the dog, when we felt the beginnings of an earthquake. My husband and I shrugged it off, because, we were, after all, seasoned Californians and used to a bit of a rumble now and then. This was different. This one kept going. AND.GOING.AND.GOING.AND.OH.MY.GOD. That was about the extent of it.
First, we were casually riding it out. Next, we both sat up, looking at each other as if to say “hmmm…this one is a bit stronger.” The part where it got really bad and I nearly pee’d in my pants came when the walls started to roll. I had heard the term before, but never knew what it meant. Now I do. It reminded me of some kind of animation. It was so surreal.
So now we have the walls and the floor rolling, and the waterbed moving all around (kind of like waves crashing on the shore) which impeded our attempts to get the hell out of there. The poor dog was having a rough time as well. When I finally managed to get off the bed, I reached behind me and literally drug him off the bed by one of the paws I’d happened to catch during the last wave.
We hi-tailed it out of the house just as fast as we could, which was difficult to do as everything was rocking back and forth. I remember yelling at Shoestrings, encouraging him down the steps. He kept wanted to jump off the landings and make a break for daylight that way. My husband was yelling at me to forget the dog and get out. Shoestrings did finally make it downstairs and outside, but not without leaving a trail behind him, he was so scared. I also had a Cockatiel named Smokey Joe that was located downstairs. He hung from the ceiling so there was no way I was going to be able to get to him. I distinctly remember putting my fingertips to my lips, and blowing a kiss to him, and wishing him good luck in my mind. I can still picture that cage swinging like a child, going higher and higher.
All of us were safe after the earthquake, which was the most important thing. We didn’t have power for about 6 hours, but all of the neighbor’s drug out their barbeques, and the meat that would go bad due to no electricity, and had a party. We were all so happy to be alive and that feeling was compounded by the horror stories that were being reported on the news via our battery-operated radios. The death toll was climbing. Freeways and buildings had collapsed, trapping innocent victims on the way home from work. Loved one’s were worried about family members not yet home. We had a neighbor that worked about 8 miles away and it took him nearly 4 hours to get home to his wife and children.
We suffered minimal damage. We were so fortunate. I lost a dozen eggs and a gallon of milk when my refrigerator door flew open. A couple of our drinking glasses fell out of the cabinets and on to the stove. All of our freestanding bookcases toppled over, and anything in our closet shelves was dumped on the floor. One of our windows looking out to the front cracked. Our waterbed kind of fell apart, but luckily we only had a small leak so there was minimal damage. The one thing we were never able to account for was the salt and pepper shakers. They were on the counter and after we finished cleaning up, we couldn’t find them. I think they bounced their way off the counter tops into the trashcan. My husband thinks it must have been the salt a pepper ghost or some such. His story makes it more interesting fodder for the kids.
Considering the massive destruction this earthquake caused our community, our damage was completely insignificant. The thing that amazes me most was that this all happened in a blink of an eye. It was over in less than a minute.
Posted by Moogie at 01:03 PM | Comments (2)
March 06, 2005
Bras Explained
12 loads of laundry to do,
12 loads of laundry,
You drink a beer,
Wash a brassiere,
11 loads of laundry to do
(Ok, so I shouldn't give up my day job to be a song writer)
Speaking of bras......
A man walked into the ladies department of a Macy's and shyly walked up to the woman behind the counter and said, "I'd like to buy a bra for my wife."
"What type of bra?" asked the clerk.
"Type?" inquires the man, "There's more than one type?"
"Look around," said the saleslady, as she showed a sea of bras in every shape, size, color and material imaginable.
Actually, even with all of this variety, there are really only four types of bras to choose from.
Relieved, the man asked about the types. The saleslady replied: There are the Catholic, the Salvation Army, the Presbyterian, and the Baptist types.
"Which one would you prefer?"
Now totally befuddled, the man asked about the differences between them.
The Saleslady responded, "It is all really quite simple...
The Catholic type.... supports the masses.
The Salvation Army type.... lifts the fallen,
The Presbyterian type........ keeps them staunch and upright, and
The Baptist.....makes mountains out of mole hills.
Have you ever wondered why A, B, C, D, DD, E, F, G, and H are the letters used to define bra sizes?
If you have wondered why, but couldn't figure out what the letters stood for, it is about time you became informed!
{A} Almost Boobs...
{B} Barely there.
{C} Can't Complain!
{D} Dang!
{DD} Double dang!
{E} Enormous!
{F} Fake.
{G} Get a Reduction.
{H} Help me, I've fallen and I can't get up !
(They forgot the German bra. Holtzemfromfloppen)
Posted by Moogie at 11:29 AM | Comments (4)
March 05, 2005
What Flavor are You?
I found this one over at Dax's place.
 I tashte like Alcohol.Heh. Heh. I taste like beer. I like beer. Buy me a beer. I'm not drunk, I can drink plenty without... What was I saying? Beer. What Flavour Are You? |
Posted by Moogie at 05:50 PM | Comments (2)
Guess the Author
In a blantant act of theft, I grabbed this meme from Eric. You are correct in assuming that I have no shame, and will most likely rot in hell for my sins.
Be that as it may....
Instructions:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that “cool” or “intellectual” book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
"He'll be fussin and stinkin along with the rest of them, makin out like how'd this awful thing happen right under my nose. And then he'll turn around and fire someone to cover his hillbilly fanny." Margy inclined her head slightly so that she was more or less eye to eye with the excited area of Stern's shorts.
Anybody?
Posted by Moogie at 05:27 PM | Comments (0)
The Blog Noir
It's another home run in Chapter 5 of the Blog Noir. Folks, Liv has come up with the dead-solid-perfect chapter in the unfolding story of our favorite PI Max. Just what the hell is in that cooler anyway? If you need to catch up, the previous chapaters are listed below. Go on! What are you waiting for?
Next up to the plate, Sadie, from a Fistful of Fortnights. She's got one heck of a job ahead of her.
Posted by Moogie at 04:04 PM | Comments (1)
Earthquakes
I lived in California for a greater part of my life. You'd think I would have gotten used to them after the first several hundred. Most of them I experienced were rather small in nature, with little or no damage to the areas they hit.
The first big one I was witness to happened in the early hours of the morning sometime in the early 70's. I slept in a big four post, spool bed. I remember the bed shaking, and thinking that my dad was trying to wake me up. The shaking turned out to be an earthquake, and a fairly sizable one at that. I did hear my dad's voice, but it was him telling me not to get out of bed.
It was still dark and I had a goldfish bowl on my dresser. He felt some water on the floor and was afraid the bowl and gotten knocked off the dresser and that there was broken glass on the floor. He didn't want me to cut my feet. I remember him carrying me out into the living room, whispering soothing words of comfort to my still foggy brain. I'd never been in an earthquake before, so I was a bit scared to say the least.
When we all got into the living room, we noticed that the front doors were wide open. It was one of those deals where the one side was always closed, and the other one you used to come in and out of the house. It was at that time we realized the dog was missing.
His name was Samson and he was a Peakapoo. Just a little mop of a dog, but he played an important role in our family. Being as young as I was, I was more distraught over the fact that he was missing, than I was at all the damage it had done to our house, or, more importantly, the surrounding community.
We lived in Southern California at the time, and our house butted up to the desert. We had a lot of trails to explore as well as the hills behind our house. The man across the street had said he saw Samson high tail it out the front door and up into the hills. We searched high and low for him, but to no avail. He was nowhere to be found. We were all heartbroken. The neighbor next door had lost his dog as well.
Samson slept by the couch in the family room, on the left hand side as you were facing it. There was a rather large picture hanging over the couch. It had fallen down during the earthquake. The way my parents figure it, once that picture hit the floor, the dog bolted. It was just bad timing that had the doors fling open as he was making a break for it.
I was pretty sure that we'd never see him again. My folks tried to be positive, but that's a pretty hard thing to do in the face of everything that had happened.
A couple of days later, a bunch of us were all standing around talking. I really think that this is when I got my first introduction into miracles. All of a sudden, one of the men said "Well, would you look at that?" When we turned our heads to gaze over at the hill he was pointing at, Samson and Thor (the neighbors German Shepherd) were trotting along, side by side. Seems they went to higher grounds until it was safe to come back.
How cool is that?
Posted by Moogie at 09:53 AM | Comments (1)
March 03, 2005
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!!!
This is NOT a test. I reapeat, this is not a test. Please check the link below for the latest Homelife Security Advisory Bulletin.
I repeat, this is NOT a test.
Please pass this message to your loved ones. I've tried to catch all of them on my blogroll (Rob, Ward, Jim, 'Neck, Eric, Sam, Dash, Kim)
Ladies, please be sure to do the same. It's up to us to keep our men safe.
Have a nice day.
(Note: Received this in an email this morning. Too important not to share)
Posted by Moogie at 01:03 PM | Comments (5)
There should be a law
Let me start off by saying, I love fish. I really do. And what people do in their own home, is their own business.
Be that as it may, bringing your left over fish to work from the night before and heating it up in the microwave for lunch should be banned.
It's NASTY people!
Our work area is small and enclosed. It's even worse with all of the construction going on. They've closed the outer door to minimize the noise to the outside areas.
That just makes it worse.
There ought to be a law against stuff like that, don't you think? Do you think they'd get pissed off if I made a sign?
Just a thought.
Posted by Moogie at 12:18 PM | Comments (1)
March 02, 2005
School start dates
The Georgia House of Reps (as opposed to the Senate??) is currently debating a bill that would start school either the last week of August or first week of September, rather than the first week of August, which is how it is now.
I for one, am all for it. I grew up with school starting after Labor Day. Starting the first week in August really screws up the summer.
They've got my vote? What about you?
Posted by Moogie at 06:59 PM | Comments (5)
Quote
Saw this quote over at 'Necks.
Women complain about premenstrual syndrome, but I think of it as the only time of the month that I can be myself.
......................................Roseanne
Posted by Moogie at 06:44 PM | Comments (0)
In the dog house
Want to know how to annoy me? Call me up first thing in the morning at work, and reveal to me that you forgot to do something that you had promised to take care of the day before. And then tell me not to have a hissy fit.
I'm just saying.
Posted by Moogie at 06:29 PM | Comments (2)
Construction Zone
The area that I sit in is having some construction done. They are making my bosses cubicle into an office, complete with walls. So far, today has been the worst. I'm so sick of nail guns, hammers, hammer drills, regular drills, saws, dust, the power going out. They handed out ear plugs today because they said it was going to get loud. And they weren't kidding. I sit about 8 feet away from where her office is going up. I wore the ear plugs and I still can't hear. Everytime a phone would ring in the office, you would here someone shout "PHONE!" and all noise would stop. It got to the point where I was praying for someone to call me.
I'm wearing this shirt tomorrow. I think it will get the point across, don't you?
Posted by Moogie at 06:07 PM | Comments (3)
March 01, 2005
Rainy Daze
What happens when you let my eldest child take a brush, and some hair bands to your hair. Scary isn't it?
As always, click the picture for a bigger immage, although you may not want to.
Strange things occur when it rains. All day. And.it.doesn't.stop.
I thought for sure we were going to have to get a John Boat to get us out of here.
Here is a picture of the drainage pipe right outside my garage door. As you can see, there is a pretty good stream of water coming out. At times, later on in the evening, it even got heavier.
These pictures are not the greatest, but that is mainly because I suck as a photographer. I believe in the point and shoot method. (Shaddup Key, it has nothing to do with Rob going down (with Christina?), or losing his chips. Ahem.
So, anyway. The first picture was taken from my garage, looking over the the right, which is my neighbor's lawn. See that tan strip running up next to the street? That's water. I'm thinking the the culverts weren't working too well. Notice the water on the lawn? That's our front yard, which you can get a better look at in the next picture, even though it's a bit dark. Notice the tan strip? In continues all the way across the front yard. The third picture is a view from the left of my garage. There's that tan strip again. It continued all the way down to the end of the street.
Today was alot better, although it was cold. Most of the water dried up in our yard over night. It's like that here. Guess it just needed time to soak up.
On another topic, I was puttering around a couple of sites while my children were busy trying to annihilate one another right at my feet, and came across this little ditty by Eric over at Straight White Guy. Needless to say, I turned down the heat in the house because it was all of a sudden getting hot in here. I wish he would have warned me about that post. I am old. Not dead. But I really wanted (needed) a cigarrete after that one. "Mommy, why is your face red? Are you embarrassed about something?" "No honey, not at all. It's just a bit warm in here. Could you please turn on the ceiling fan?"
I wandered over to Kim's in which he was talking about Girl Scout cookies. What the heck is a Tagalong? I mean, I'm so all over the Thin Mints (I hide them from my family, behind the chicken in the freezer) but I've never heard of those. I don't want to be missing out on anything.
Speaking of Girl Scouts, have you checked out this post by my lesser half? Go ahead and take a look. Leave him a comment to let him know you stopped by.
It's interesting to read different blogs. I've got all types on my blogroll, all of them good. I like a variety. I've been reading all of the contreversy about bloggers lately. It's amazing to me. I write because I like to. Not because I'm good at it or because I want to be famous. Yes, it's great to have comments, but those I get from my friends, and the occasional drive by. I've made quite a few friends since I've been blogging, and that's good enough for me. I started this blog because it was a good way to keep in contact with my friends and family. I'm bad about emailing. I admit it. I just like to write. I look at it as a way of journaling my everyday life. There is no record, anywhere else (except my mind which is seriously warped) that chronicles my life (adventure?) as a working mother. That captures the everyday achievements of my children, and the fact that even though they generally drive me insane (short drive), they are dayum cute when they are asleep.
I guess I just don't get the whole blogging controversy. Sure, there are some crappy blogs out there, but then why do you bother reading them? Some of us like skins, some don't. Some like a good political debate, some don't. And another thing, the asthetics of your blog have nothing to do with the content. Go figure. To each his own, right?
That's about it for tonight. I really had nothing much to say. I've been writing this post off and on all night, in between being with the girls and doing the normal stuff.
This is a bit off the normal track for me. I can't seem to wrap my mind around a subject and write. Maybe it's the rain.
Oh, and I really think that if men gave any thought at all to understanding women, it really wouldn't be so hard. I mean, it's not rocket science. It seems odd to me they have such a hard time of it.
Any thoughts?
Posted by Moogie at 06:48 PM | Comments (1)