August 31, 2005

Cleaning teeth and....ears?

I'm convinced that my dogs are not completely there.

There are many odd behaviors that they exhibit that would support this, but I'll list two that leave me feeling somewhat puzzled.

Bruiser (the youngest), loves to clean Tiny's ears. I mean the serious, go down on, seriously lick every inch that tongue can reach kind of clean. Trust me, this is not something you want to watch while sipping your first cup of coffee at 5:15 in the morning. To be truthful, it's not something you want to watch at any time. I need to point out that Bruiser takes his ear cleaning responsibilities quite seriously. And Tiny just sits there and takes it. The scary thing is? I think she likes it.

Besides wanting to be an audiologist when he grows up (or he has a fetish for ears, take your pick), I believe he also wants to become a dentist. Now, in the light of my recent posts, this thought does not give me a warm and fuzzy feeling.

Bruiser likes to stick his head inside of Tiny's mouth and lick it. The teeth. The cheeks. The tonuge. The roof of the mouth. I mean, all over. I really feel like I need to teach him how to hold dental floss so he can complete the job. I'm hoping no one decides to give him a drill for Christmas.

There are times that his head is completely inside Tiny's mouth. Again, Tiny just sits there and takes it. Tiny is beginning to scare me. I'm not sure what is going to happen next.

Posted by Moogie at 07:14 PM | Comments (8)

August 30, 2005

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

Below are the results of my dentist appointment.

The good: I had NO cavities. I remember when I was a child, if I went to the dentist for a cleaning, and came away with NO cavities, I would get $1.00. This has carried on as a joke in my family, even to this day. When I go to the dentist (not counting the, ahem, past two (almost) years I avoided going since moving), and come away with NO cavities, I would call my parents, and Dad would send me $1.00.

The bad: It seems that I am grinding my teeth. I was totally unaware of this. For that matter, so was my husband. I have two teeth, in the upper, left hand side, in the rear, that have broken off, taking some of the filling with it. I am going in Thursday morning to get the filling replaced and the teeth bonded (please hold me). This was due to the grinding.

The ugly: On the bottom left hand side, right below the affected upper teeth? They are really ground down. One of them is broken, and will need a filling replaced. The other? I need a crown. Apparently, it has ground down really far. At least this would explain the sensitivity in my teeth. This will be taken care of in the appointment after I get the upper teeth fixed.

This is going to be painful to the wallet. I'm just thankful that I have good insurance. At least they will let me break everything up so I don't have to pay it all at once. After everything is set, I'll be fitted with a night guard. The insurance only pays for about half of it, but if I don't get it, I'll just break down my teeth further and make it worse.

I would like to thank Robin for coming with me (even though she passed out), and bringing the lemondade. Oh, and this was only x-rays and cleaning. Just wanted to point that out. Who's up for keeping me company Thursday?

I think I'll go take some Ibuprofen. My mouth is a little sore from all that scraaaaaappppppiiinnnnnggggg...

Posted by Moogie at 06:02 PM | Comments (6)

August 29, 2005

Dentists

Tomorrow I get to go to the dentist, and I use the term "get" loosely. I just can't tell you how much this idea pleases me. I am normally a die-hard when it comes to appointments. I go every six months without fail for a cleaning. I've never had any problems (knock-wood).

Then, I moved.

Let me preface this to say that I went to the same dentist for nearly 15 years back in California. While I don't think you could classify me as extremely freaked out about the visits, I never look forward to them. I'd say I always get a mild case of anxiety.

But I got comfortable with my dentists. They were a husband and wife team, very close to my age. Very, very, very aware of their patients and very caring.

I've been here for over a year and a half. I still haven't gone. How sad is that? And now? My tooth hurts. It's just an ache but it's there none the less. Being one that is quick to back the hearse up to the door, I am imagining all sorts of excrutiatingly painful possiblities.

They advertise as pain free. Does that mean they have seriously good drugs and will knock me completely out? If anyone wants to come and hold my hand, it will be much appreciated. I'll even share some of my drugs.

Posted by Moogie at 05:42 PM | Comments (5)

August 27, 2005

Mr. Moogie has a new look!

Mr. Moogie, formerly known as "Old Wierd Ward," has a new look. Miss Zoot kindly installed Moveable Type, and created a banner. Now, I need to go tweak and add a bit. If you don't see me for a while, or if Mr. Moogie's site suddenly blows up, you'll know why.

Go over and say hi to him at his new digs, Swamp Gas! Don't forget to change your blogroll or bookmarks if he's on them.

Posted by Moogie at 11:22 AM | Comments (1)

August 26, 2005

Birthday gone wild

I tell you, we live the wild life here at Chez Moogie. You seriously NEED to be here on one of our birthdays.

The birthday in question was mine. Yesterday. I'm 29 (+14) or 39 (+4), you do the math. I save the gold plated cane for special occasions, in case you are wondering.

Yesterday was kind of a quiet birthday. No less than awesome, just quiet. I will tell you that this male chauvinistic commie pig would not let me open ONE.SINGLE.PRESENT, not to mention a card yesterday. I'm having a birthday party tonight. One of my neighbors is throwing it. How cool is that? We do that here. Good stuff.

But back to the not opening presents? He said since I'm having my party tonight, I couldn't open anything until then. Folks, just how cruel is that? But that's not the point of this post.

I do have one, in case you are wondering. Despite the fact that I married a heartless bum, I still had a wonderful evening. Why? Because my kids (and others) came through.

See the extended entry for the reason why.

The birthday cookie. The girls were over at my girlfriends last night, secretly making this culinary triumph for me. They loved me so much they couldn't wait for it to cool off, so they put a candle in it. And you can see the result of that. The conclusion? That was the best darn peanut butter cookie cake I HAVE EVER EATEN! The bummer? I had to share.

When I got home from work, Meelie No and Master S. (her buddy) were sequestered in her bedroom. I was informed that, under no circumstances, was I allowed to enter. And anyone, who is anyone and knows me, knows that I NEVER break the rules around here.

Personally, I believe that I have some budding artists in the making. Here's why.

This was a birthday card, made by none other than my youngest, Meelie No. I'm not entirely positive, but I think Braday, is the same thing as birthday, but celebrated in some obscure country. Pretty smart of her to know that isn't it?

As if one braday card wasn't enough? She felt the need to make me a briday card. Is my daughter cool or what? And the figure with the yellow hair? That's me. I look kind of pretty, don't you think?

Now this card was drawn by none other than Master S, one of Meelie No's buddies, and the man I will marry once he reaches a legal age. He's a genius. Pure genius. The use of colors? It leaves me speechless. He makes you work for it people. Can you not tell what it is? No? Well, neither could I, so I asked for help.

I am on a bouncy slide, holding my birthday cookie, wearing a birthday hat. Oh, and at the bottom of the slide? There are alligators waiting to EAT.MY.PEANUT.BUTTER.COOKIE.CAKE.

I could totally see it after he described it. Couldn't you?

Posted by Moogie at 05:34 PM | Comments (9)

August 24, 2005

Where did I put those lemons?

Because it's time for me to make some lemonade. It's either that or get mind numbing drunk off some of Velocigod's infamous, never-the-same-running-twice, punch. Neither of which has any appeal to me.

Today, my dear friends, was one of those. Yes, another one. Forgive me. I've been doing nothing but complain of late, but please, indulge me; else I wallow in pity, loathing, bitterness, hatred, and downright self depreciation.

And of this moment, I am seriously wallowing.

Many of you know that the man of my life works for the county in the IT department. Before landing this job, he'd been out of work for quite some time (lay offs). He'd worked many odd jobs including contract work and in a computer shop. He did what he could to raise the cash flow.

Well, there by the grace of God go I. The powers that be, those intrepid pansies known as the county commissioners decided, in their great wisdom (oxymoron) to eliminate 4 positions. As seriously painful as it is to announce, one of them was my husband's job.

Sucker punched. That is how he is feeling now. I don't blame him.

So the hunt for employment begins in earnest again. We are silent. Not saying much to each other. Trying to keep the flow of communication open to our offspring so they do not suspect anything untoward has happened. Funny thing is about kids. They know anyway.

And me? I'm busy searching for those lemons because my state of mind depends on it.

Depression is a funny thing. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. It hits you between the eyes like a stuck pig. The object is to remove the arrow before it does irreparable damage. Damage to the fragile mind and sole, and to the very heart of your being.

It's difficult to describe it if you've never been there. The car is flipping, and flipping and flipping and careening off the edge. You have no control.

Only I do. There have been some events in my life, over the last couple of months that have put that car in motion. Up until now, I've been able to turn the movie off. No longer can I ignore the claw that is reaching inside my very being and attempting to rip out the inside of my soul. The thing that keeps me going.

The loss of my husband's job was the straw that broke the decrepit camel's back. It can no more carry the weight of a pack, than that damn ant can climb the proverbial rubber tree plant.

So this is the time I put aside for dealing, for healing, for hope. Because that lemonade is here somewhere. And I'll find it.

Because I need to be there for my husband. He needs me and he needs me whole.

So, what do you say? Let's go look for those lemons and make us a butt-load of the best farookin lemonade you can find in any stand this side of the Rockies.

Posted by Moogie at 05:53 PM | Comments (12)

August 22, 2005

It is bedtime yet?

I'm tired today. Really tired. What's worse? I've got no real reason for it. I sat down to write something today and the only thing I could think of was weather.

And how my oldest child is really struggling with the transition into Middle School. And how bloody angry I was at her last night.

And how I talked to my co-worker this morning about my confusion and my fear. And why I'm angry, and sad. And doubting myself as a parent. And how I have to let go and let her make choices, and accept consequences.

And how my daughter and I talked this morning, and came to some understandings. About how am I ALWAYS willing to help her, but that she has to take the responsibility for the decisions she makes. If she decides to not do her homework, and gets a detention for it, how I will not step in and cry "unfair." And how I will remain unmoved (on the outside) on my stance that she will not play outside with her friends when she gets home. And how she will complete the assignments that she missed even if she won't get any points for them. And how I will absorb the verbal blows of hatred spewing out of her mouth, only to respond with loving answers. That make her even angrier.

It's just been one of them. You know?

Posted by Moogie at 05:49 PM | Comments (7)

August 20, 2005

To Kill an American

I saw this over at KB's place. A particularly good reminder, yes?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An American is English, or French, or Italian, Irish, German, Spanish,Polish, Russian or Greek.

An American may also be Canadian, Mexican, African, Indian, Chinese,Japanese, Korean, Australian, Iranian, Asian, or Arab, or Pakistani,or Afghan.

An American may also be a Cherokee, Osage, Blackfoot, Navaho, Apache,Seminole or one of the many other tribes known as native Americans.

An American is Christian, or he could be Jewish, or Buddhist, or Muslim. In fact, there are more Muslims in America than in Afghanistan. The only difference is that in America they are free to worship as each of them chooses.

An American is also free to believe in no religion. For that he will answer only to God, not to the government, or to armed thugs claiming to speak for the government and for God.

An American lives in the most prosperous land in the history of the world. The root of that prosperity can be found in the Declaration of Independence, which recognizes the God given right of each person to the pursuit of happiness.

An American is generous. Americans have helped out just about every other nation in the world in their time of need. When the Soviet army over ran Afghanistan 20 years ago, Americans came with arms and supplies to enable the people to win back their country!

As of the morning of September 11, Americans had given more than any other nation to the poor in Afghanistan. Americans welcome the best, the best products, the best books, the best music, the best food, the best athletes. But they also welcome the least!

The national symbol of America, The Statue of Liberty, welcomes your tired and your poor, the wretched refuse of your teeming shores, the homeless, tempest tossed. These in fact are the people who built America.

Some of them were working in the Twin Towers the morning of September 11, 2001, earning a better life for their families. I've been told that the World Trade Center victims were from at least 30 other countries, cultures, and first languages, including those that aided and abetted the terrorists.

So you can try to kill an American if you must. Hitler did. So did General Tojo, and Stalin, and Mao Tse-Tung, and every blood thirsty tyrant in the history of the world. But, in doing so you would just be killing yourself. Because Americans are not a particular people from a particular place. They are the embodiment of the human spirit of freedom. Everyone who holds to that spirit, everywhere, is an American.

~~~~~~~~~~Author Unknown

Posted by Moogie at 04:15 PM | Comments (8)

International Cuisine

As heard from the backseat of my car while we were running errands:

"The only kind of Chinese food that I like is Spanish Rice."

Posted by Moogie at 04:03 PM | Comments (1)

Secrets best kept

Picture this. I'm sitting in my chair, sucking up my morning coffee on a lazy Saturday morning. Everyone still has their pajamas on. The girls had a friend spend the night and they are happily watching TV in my bedroom. As I surf, I hear the words that are feared by mothers (parents) around the world.

"Oh man, when mom find out you are going to be toast!"

I fear that this, my esteemed internet readers, means the end of my lazy Saturday moring.

Posted by Moogie at 10:50 AM | Comments (2)

Orange?

I snatched this litte quiz over at the most awesome Kelley's place. It seems to have taken a life of its own on the blogosphere.

You're Mr. Orange!


Which Reservoir Dog Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Bwahahahahahaha! Alrighty then! Now, if I could just get Zonker to take the quiz, instead of relying on Sadie to give him a title in the side bar....

And then, it would be interesting to see how Mr. Moogie rates.

Anybody else?

Posted by Moogie at 10:40 AM | Comments (1)

August 19, 2005

I'm gonna sue!

I think that Mamacita, over at Scheiss Weekly has the right idea. I'm going to jump on the band wagon here, and join her.

By the way, my parents were seriously mean too!

Posted by Moogie at 05:35 PM | Comments (0)

Shop while you work?

You have to love a job that lets you go shopping while you work, and that pays you for it at the same time.

We are having a drill on the base next week (it's all over the papers), and I was asked to go get some supplies for the men. Powdered Gatorade, coolers and cups. It's been wicked hot and they want to keep dehyration at bay. So I hopped in a company truck and drove my rump to Walmart to pick up the necessary purchases.

Sometimes, being a buyer has it's perks. And hey..if I can help the guys out, that's a bonus.

Posted by Moogie at 04:53 PM | Comments (1)

A bittersweet farewell

The final goodbye.

Words fail. Heart breaks. Friends lost but not forgotten.

Posted by Moogie at 07:42 AM | Comments (1)

August 18, 2005

We really do love each other!

To any sane person, which would exclude anyone who lives in my house, this type of behavior between spouses could be considered puzzling.

When I get home from work, I despise anyone coming within a certain radius of my body. Talk my ear off, follow me into the bathroom, but please, let me unwind, without touching me, and don't expect immediate, well thought out responses to your requests.

The kids know this. They keep their distance until I have finished changing out of my work clothes, and doing all of the necessary stuff (like peeing) that one does when one gets home from work.

Like I said, the kids get this. And the dogs? Well, aside from the occasional shout from me "Bruiser, put down the bra and no one gets hurt," they do just fine. My husband? Bless his heart. He normally does really well, but sometimes he falls back into his childhood, and forgets that I mean business.

Him: Hi honey.

Me: Yeah, ok.

Him: Did you have a good day?

Me: Please move, you are in my way.

Him: (not moving) Does that mean you didn't have a good day?

Me: I said move! I have to go to the bathroom!

Him: Wow, that bad huh? (he ATTEMPTS to invade my space)

Me: Look, as much as I love you and all, please move out of my way. I have to pee. If you don't move I will pee on your leg.

Him: He moves

Me: (coming out of bathroom, heading off to change clothes)

Him: (He gives me a hug)

Me: That's nice dear, now let go.

Him: Why?

Me: You know I don't like to be touched right when I get home.

Him: Yes.

Me: Sigh.

Him: (wraps his arm around my shoulders and chants, "bother, bother, bother, botherP, much like that lady on the Mervyn's commercials with her open, open, open.)

Me: Let go of me, and stop poking me.

Him: But it's so fun!

Me: Stop bothering me.

Him: Why?

Me: You are just like a pimple on my but. No matter how hard I try to get rid of you, you always come back.

Him: Hey, if I want any shit from you, I'll slap it out of you.

Me: I love you.

Him: I love you too.

Posted by Moogie at 06:23 PM | Comments (3)

August 16, 2005

How do you deal with telemarketers?

I always knew this man was a genius. He comes up with and also shares alot of great ideas. This one, in particular, I really need to try. Well, it would probably be best if my husband did this one, though it may very well be effective if I gave it a shot. I'd say it would raise the shock factor at any rate.

Normally, my husband always handles those types of calls. I can't stand them. He does a most excellent job. One of my favorites is the indignant customer. He does rude well.

How do you deal with pesky telemarketers? There's a book in there somewhere.

Posted by Moogie at 06:34 PM | Comments (7)

August 15, 2005

Was that a compliment?

I had an interesting thing said to me today at work that made me stop and think.

First off, let me start off by thanking all of you that have emailed me about my new job. I really love it, and the people I work with. I made the right decision. For those of you just getting in on the tail end of this particular curve, I changed jobs within the company that I was working. It's a complete change of field for me.

Getting back to the point, I was working on a "Hot" order. You know the kind. It was due about 3 weeks ago, even though they just put in the request. Oh, and let's not forget the 2 week lead time. My kind of order.

In any case, I had placed this order from this particular supplier a little over 2 weeks ago. In the contract, it specified that a particular type of wood be used (for a container). This was also specified on the drawing, for the part in which the container was to be used for shipping purposes.

Pretty easy right?

Now, let me start off by saying that I love engineers. My father is one (hi Dad!). They are most often quite brilliant. Unfortunately, some of them have seriously huge egos, and little common sense. They do not believe that the policies and procedures we have set up, apply to them in any way, shape or form. Did I mention that I love engineers? Without them, my job would be so mundane.

In this particular incident, the engineer gave a verbal ok to the supplier to use a different type of wood. Ahem. Contract. Drawing. Specifications. Not something I want to hear when I have a group of people waiting for this container and I CAN'T RELEASE IT! I won't mention the fact that changing the wood basically raised the price by approximately $450.

So, let's summarize. Contract stated specific kind of wood, engineer authorized using different material, using different wood went against what the drawing required, the price was raised significantly. And guess what? No one told me.

So, here I have this container, delivered, and can't receive it because it is not what I ordered. Among other things. There are ways around that and I won't bother going into the details. It's a big pain in the but, but most times, you can do it.

Getting back to the original point (I do go on, don't I?); I made a much needed phone call to the engineer in question. Simply put, I told this person that he is not ever to make a change in the contract without going through me first. He is not authorized to obligate company funds, nor change drawing requirements without going through the proper channels. I then made a call to the supplier, and let them know in no uncertain terms, that I was not obligated to fund the change because it was not in the contract. Let me say that during both of these calls, the silence was so deafening, you could hear the crickets chirp.

My boss was in the area when I was making these calls. After I hung up from the last one, she walked over to me and said, "how do you do that?" I asked her what she meant. She said, "how do you tell someone that they screwed up big time, yet make it seem like you are complimenting them on their intelligence, and profound knowledge all at once?"

I just smiled and went back to work. I think I mumbled something unintelligible, but I can't be sure.

It's all about respect. People can have bad days. People can have things going on in their lives that are really stressful. Most likely the engineer knows that he did was wrong. But was it going to help me in any way to drag him through the dirt? Would it fix my situation? Would it make me feel better to let him know that he was one nugget short of a happy meal? Or that his ego was way too big for his britches? Or that the supplier wouldn't know which end was up, even if I tattooed an arrow on his but? Ok, it would make me feel better, but that's not the point.

I think that you can say the whole thing boils down to respect. Respect for your co-workers, your external customers. Your day to day contacts. You show people respect, you'll get it back. I think this can also be brought into play in your personal relationships.

Do you diss your friends because they have a different opinion than you? Because they are a different religion? Because they don't hold the same political ideals that you do? That they belong to a particular group you don't like? If their behavior warrants it, perhaps they should not be a friend. But if they've done nothing to you, why would you take them down? Either publicly or privately? I'm sorry that you had a terrible divorce and that you hate women/men. I'm sorry that you don't believe in God, because you've had a rough time of it, or what have you. The list is endless. I could go on but I think you get the gist.

In my life, just because I don't subscribe to opinions that you hold close to your heart, doesn't mean we can't be friends, or respect each other's opinions. If you have done nothing untoward against me, why should I hate you? I realize that's a strong word, but I think you know what I'm talking about.

Personally, our differences make life exciting. We can debate. We can tease each other. But the bottom line is, I respect the fact that you have a different opinion that I do. It goes both ways.

I realize that I've rambled a bit (alot) in this post. But this is an issue that has been bothering me for a while.

Perhaps I'm naive, most likely I am. How do you deal with this?

Discuss.

Posted by Moogie at 06:19 PM | Comments (6)

August 14, 2005

Only in Georgia

Take a look at this article over at Mr. Moogie's place. You have got to be kidding me. Fire hyrdrants? I lost 3/4 cup of coffee, through my nose, when I read that a couple of mornings ago.

Go figure.

Posted by Moogie at 06:10 PM | Comments (4)

August 13, 2005

25 Word Challenge is up!!

The 25 Word Challenge is up and running over at Tincanman's place. I'll just wait here while you post, mkay?

Posted by Moogie at 04:58 PM | Comments (2)

Cooking Rice on a Caboose

Papa was the designated cook on the caboose. He did all of his cooking on a Coleman Stove. One day, the men requested he cook some rice for dinner.

Now Papa had had never cooked any rice before, but he did not let that stop him. He went out and bought a sack of rice, in preparation for the next meal. I feel the need to point out again that he'd never cooked rice before. I think those of you who have, can almost guess what happened next.

He emptied the entire sack of rice in a pan of water, and soon noticed it was cooking over. Papa took a smaller pan and scooped some rice out, throwing it out the caboose's back door. After numerous times of discarding rice, he finally was able to finish cooking it. He learned the hard way that it only takes two cups of rice to feed four men.

Posted by Moogie at 04:16 PM | Comments (3)

August 11, 2005

Chocolate drops and Ex-Lax

My paternal grandfather, known as Papa, died before I was born but I often hear wonderful stories about him. Here is one that my father loves to tell.

The following is the story, in my father’s words:

When my dad (Papa) was a Conductor on a freight train, they would tie it up on each trip in Farmersburg, Indiana. The men ate and slept in the Caboose while they were on the road. Several nights a week, one of the local restaurants served fried fish, so they would eat there. After dinner, Dad would always purchase a small sack of chocolate drops from the local store to eat on the way back to the caboose. One of his co-workers, Abby Shaw, was a practical joker. He would grab the sack of chocolate from Dad’s hands, take off running, and empty it in his mouth before he could be caught. This happened on a frequent basis.

A few nights later at home, Dad had several boxes of Ex-lax that he broke up and placed in a sack. He carefully placed the sack in his pocket the next time they went out for their regular fish dinner. As they were walking back to the caboose, he took the newly made sack out and pretended to eat it. Abby Shaw immediately ran past Papa, grabbing the sack on his way, and quickly ate the whole thing.

The next morning as they were at the Mine, picking up coal cars, Abby jumped off the engine to open the switch and promptly filled his shoes (no one knew this at the time). The group was ready to leave and couldn’t find Abby. A while later, someone located him at the river, washing his long underwear, overalls, socks and shoes. This broke him of the habit of stealing candy.

Posted by Moogie at 05:51 PM | Comments (6)

August 10, 2005

Thoughts

I was a little bothered by this post that I read over at Genuine's today about this woman. It was in reference to this post and some of the comments there, some allegedly made by Dooce herself.

I visit Genuine's blog on a semi regular basis. I enjoy it. He writes entries several times a day, many of them witty, and some thought provoking. Be that as it may, I think he as well as his some of his commentors, were a bit rough on Dooce.

A major problem that Genuine appears to have with Dooce, is that she doesn't (or rarely) allows comments on her blog. The last I heard, this was a personal choice and it should be kept that way. Dooce is in the top of the blogging field (look at the numbers, I'm not spouting my opinion). She's never been shy about letting her readers know her reasons for not allowing comments. She still has her email address up on her site and invites you to write her.

I'm confused as to how that makes her a person unwilling to be part of a blogging community. I don't have one bazillionth (is that a word?) of the readership she does and I get the nasty comments from trolls from time to time. I shudder to think what would come my way if I was anywhere near her popularity. It's her blog. It's her decision.

What I love most about this woman is that she writes about things that I would NEVER say, but by God, that doesn't mean that I have not thought of it. I am constantly laughing at her portrayal of things in her life and her willingness to put them out there for everyone to read. She's been open about her depression, and subsequent post partum depression after the birth of her daughter. She's given alot of help to women who have sufferred and are sufferring from the same thing. She let's women know that they are not alone. Goodness knows, I've had bouts of that myself during my lifetime.

There are alot of statements in Genuine's post that bothered me, but that's not a bad thing. I wonder to myself if it's not something of sour grapes perhaps? And it's just his way of venting?

Being able to post what you want and how you want is your right. That's why blogging is personal. It's your blog. You post what you like. You can still be popular, well read, and well liked, even if you don't have comments. Different strokes for different folks, I'd say.

That being said, I still really like the man's blog. If you take a look, you can see the chronicles of the birth of his latest child. He's posting while at the hospital. Congrats Mr. and Mrs. G!

Updates: MetroDad gives his views on sharting.

Dr. Laura's take on jealous, petty, asshat people.

Posted by Moogie at 06:39 PM | Comments (8)

August 09, 2005

The beauty of Georgia

When I first moved here, I wasn't aware of all the beauty that was surrounding me. Especially, since I live in a rural area, away from the city lights and action.

Saturday night, we were sitting around chatting with our neighbors, and there was a site to behold.

I'm not sure, but I think I've never seen the sky look more beautiful than it did that night. It was towards the end of sunset. A storm was moving in. This picture was not edited in any way, shape or form. This was how it looked.

Posted by Moogie at 08:00 PM | Comments (7)

August 08, 2005

Felt Tip Markers and Body Parts

I was emailing back and forth with this lovely lady, and we struck up a conversation about felt tip pins. The topic was started due to the latest Caption Contest post. It doesn't take much thought to figure out where our conversation went.

I remember when my step daughter was about 5 (she is 24 now), she put spots all over her body with felt tip markers, and proudly came into the room announcing that she had the "chiten pots." It was difficult not to laugh, as we didn't want to encourage her, yet at the same time I had an urge to bang my head against the wall out of pure frustration. On a side note, it took a few days for us to finally get rid of all of the dots. Did I mention these were PERMANENT markers?

Do you have anything memorable like that to share? About yourself? Your kids? Your friends?

Posted by Moogie at 05:22 PM | Comments (4)

August 07, 2005

It was a fight to the end...but who won??

It was ugly. It was a fight to the finish.

I wonder who won? The picture in the extended entry tells it all.

As always, click on the image to make it bigger.

Posted by Moogie at 11:23 AM | Comments (2)

August 06, 2005

How my Mom and Dad met

On July 16th, my parents had their 55th wedding anniversary. Pretty amazing if you ask me. You hardly see that these days.

I'd heard bits and pieces about how they met, but decided to ask my Mom and Dad for the full version.

My Dad and Mom went to the same High School and were in the same English class in their Junior year. They knew each other by name, but ran around in different crowds.

Four years later, my Dad was in an automobile accident. His friend hit a parked car, and Dad was asleep in the passenger seat and his head went through the windshield. He lost his front upper teeth and split his upper lip open. He ended up on a floor (ward) in the hospital where Mom was working as a Graduate Nurse (she is an RN). She was the medicine nurse, so she applied medicine to his injured lip and gave him ice packs.

About three months later, she went to work for Dad's family doctor. Dad came in because his upper lip was hard and about twice the normal size. The doctor decided to open up the incision and remove some of the scar tissue, and discovered that the Emergency Room doctor had sewed up part of his tooth in the lip. A lip is a particularly sensitive area, and seeing Dad in pain, Mom held his hand. He asked Mom out on a date at that time, but she refused.

Dad continued to ask her out every time he came into the doctor's office and she kept refusing. After nine months, he invited Mom to attend a Marine Dance. She mentioned this to my Aunt who told her, "For goodness sake why don't you go? You're just going to a dance, you don't have to marry him." So Mom accepted. They had a really good time together, so she continued to accept dates from him.

One night, after a show, they were window shoping on Main Street (money was tight in their generation). As they were strolling along, a wedding party came honking down the street. It turned out to be a classmate of theirs from high school. Dad said "poor sucker".

After dating for three weeks, Dad proposed and Mom said "you don't want to be a sucker, do you?" He was so angry with her that he ran out the front door, and she thought, "well that is the last I'll see of him."

It turned out, Mom was wrong. Dad called the next night and asked her for another date. He proposed again after they had been dating for five weeks and she accepted.

And that, Internet, is how they met and then married.

Posted by Moogie at 05:01 PM | Comments (5)

August 05, 2005

Carnival of the Captions - Week #2

This week's entry is a bit different, and conjures up many different ideas. What goes through your mind when you look at this picture?

Caption of the Week #2 will run through Thursday evening. At that time, the entries will be closed.

Let me know what you think and if you win, your entry will be posted in the photo blog, as well as on the side bar. How cool is that?

The picture is in the extended entry. Go take a look. As always, click on the picture to make it larger.

Posted by Moogie at 05:48 PM | Comments (9)

Caption of the Week #1 - The winner!

Well, it was pretty tough but we finally chose our winner. We had some good entries for Week #1. Look for the Week #2 contest to be posted soon.

The photo, complete with the new caption and author, can be found over on my photo blog here, as well as on the side bar.

Congratulation and thanks to Texas T-Bone for submitting this entry.

Posted by Moogie at 04:36 PM | Comments (1)

August 04, 2005

Letting Go

I read this post by Carmi over at Written Inc and it really made me stop and think.

Just when and how do we let our children go?

Ask me an easy one, why don't you? For me personally, there are so many different stages of "letting go." The first sleep over. The first camp. The first overnite or longer stay at Grandma and Papa's, without Mom and Dad. The first day of Kindergarten. And, Lord help me, the first day of Middle School.

I use the latter as an example because I believe that letting her get on that bus, to head on out to THAT.HUGE.SCHOOL was extremely difficult for me to do. We went to open house on Monday, so I got a good look at the school and all of the classrooms. I can't tell you how many times we asked for directions.

She hopped on the bus and Mom and Dad were promptly forgotten. After all, her FRIENDS were there, and to show any sign of fear is just not done. We all know how that works. We've all been there at one time or another.

I fretted about her all day which is why I was thankful we were so busy at work. I didn't have time to dwell on the negative. What if she gets picked on? What if she can't find her way to the classroom? What happens if she doesn't like a teacher? What happens if she ends up in the wrong room? My baby. She is growing up.

I have to take pride in the fact that she wasn't experiencing the level of anxiety that her mother was feeling. That she was excited to be moving on up the ladder of higher education. That I was able to hide from her the fact that my heart was breaking because no longer will I drive her to her first day (or maybe the first week) of school, and walk her to class.

I'm thankful that she still will kiss me in front of her friends and tell me that she loves me.

You know what? It's ok. She's fine. She had a blast but was tired after a long day. She did fine.

And I will too.

Posted by Moogie at 06:17 PM | Comments (4)

August 03, 2005

Unexpected Visitor

Have I told you about the unexpected visitor we had Saturday morning? My husband was reading the paper and sucking up his morning coffee in the garage, when he saw it. Remember when I told you I had thought that I would be cleaning my house? Instead? I spent all day pulling out boxes and looking for a SNAKE in my garage.

Lovely, yes? And after all of that we didn’t find the snake. That did not give me a warm and fuzzy feeling. Later on that night, we found out that the snake must have left because it popped up in our neighbor’s garage. And you know what? Don’t tell anyone but I was so jazzed. I mean, I am so sorry that the snake is in your yard but that means he is NOT in my garage and now I don’t have to worry about him popping out of my toilet and swallowing my children whole.

As you have noted in previous entries, I am nothing if not a procrastinator. That, in and of itself, would not be much of a problem except that my husband? He is the same way. We don’t stand a chance.

So, half of our garage was filled with unpacked boxes. Yes, I fully realize that if I have not needed it for a year and a half I can most probably throw everything out.

I did finally find the baby clothes I was looking for and have now outfitted my neighbor’s baby for the next five years, diapers not included. I also found the rest of my china, which I was sure was lost (read stolen by movers). How I would know that is beyond me because I had a sea of boxes multiplying like bunnies in my garage and didn’t know what was in any of them.

I still have not found the lid to my small crockpot, but I DID find my iron. Which was in a box with some stuffed animals, computer paper and paperback books. Go figure. So you see? I can’t throw that stuff away. Besides not having found my crockpot lid? There might be something that I totally forgot about.

Oh, and for those of you who are wondering. The snake was a Cottonmouth, estimated at about 4 ½ - 5 feet.

Posted by Moogie at 06:00 PM | Comments (5)

August 02, 2005

School Days, Golden Rule Days

Friday I went with my kids, my girlfriend and her children on a mission to finish school shopping. Next year I am going to hire someone to do it for me. It was a madhouse. Everyone and their grandmother, as well as their cousin’s brother’s uncle’s wife was out to do the same thing. I was able to accomplish most of the things on my list but I’m telling you, it was a three Valium day. There is nothing quite as lovely as standing in a dressing/restroom in a consignment shop, with two children who dress slower than the tortoise that is buddies with the hare.

Oh, and then there is that lovely aspect of the child (Meelie No) I sometimes refer to as “OHMIGAWDDOYOUTHINKIAMSTANDINGHEREFORMYHEALTH?” She has to check out every single item she puts on, looking at each angle to make sure it portrays her to be the angel she believes she is. What one must remember when dealing with this oh-so-strong willed (she gets it from her father) child is that her life is all about pink. If it has pink in it, chances are she will love it. It took me way too long to figure that out.

And then we have the Preteen Princess (Priss?) Chickie. “Too frilly. Mother (she always calls me that when she is disgusted with something I have done/said/am wearing/am doing), I cannot BELIEVE you are even showing that to me, it has PINK on it. I am so over pink. I so have to shave my legs tonight. I haven’t shaved in like, 2 DAYS and I cannot wear shorts/skort if my legs are hairy.”

Is it any wonder that I am in a constant state of confusion?

We ended up making it safely home, despite scratch on the left hand rear driver’s side that some jerk gave me as a present in the parking lot. We didn’t have to pull out the canoes or tread water (God waved his arms and the sea parted) even though we drove through the middle of a torrential downpour. I was more than certain we were going to be blown off the bridge. Our children survived despite the fact that we only fed them lunch and ice cream (“I do not care about the children of China. I am starving and I live in the United States.”)

When all is said and done, I may be locked in a padded room with nothing but my oh-so-comfy underwear on, but my children will be the best dressed for the first day of school. Oh, and their backpacks? Totally awesome. One is pink and the other is black. Can you guess which backpack goes to whom?

Posted by Moogie at 06:28 PM | Comments (6)

August 01, 2005

Happy 50th Birthday Bro!

My oldest brother's 50th birthday was July 29th. His girlfriend threw him a birthday suprise birthday party this past Saturday. She had emailed me and asked me to send her some stories or memories about my brother. The following is what I sent her.

Dear M,

This letter is difficult to write. Not because I don’t have anything to say (that would be something of an oxymoron no?), but because I can’t believe you made it to 50 YEARS OLD! Hopefully, Miss M has received the walker. I found a neon purple one, with a horn, wheels (that light up), an attached seat (padded of course), in case you get tired. Just a side note, if you lift the seat up, there is a porta-pottie you can use in case of emergencies.

That being said, I suppose I should get to the heart of the matter. I was contacted by a source for information. As you know, little sisters have the scoop when it comes to OLDER brothers. And, I have allot to tell. I’ve been waiting for years to get even with you for this opportunity.

For the past few days, my mind, such as it is, has been flooded with memories. All of them fond, and perhaps some of them you would rather keep secret (yeah, like that will happen). I’ll have pity on you and not mention the really bad (read embarrassing) ones. When I actually sat down at the computer, my brain went into a tailspin. This probably won’t be completely in chronological order, but I’ll try to write down some of them that stick in my memory. Not all of them will be humorous. Some will perhaps mean something only to me. Some might touch you as well. They will all tell you though, how much you meant, and still mean to me.

• One of my earliest memories was of the tricycle that got handed down to me from you and B. I remember that I loved to go fast. I carry a picture in my head of you on the back, holding on to my handle bars, with one of your feet on the back. You would push me down the sidewalk just as fast as you could go. I’m surprised I didn’t wear you out more than I did. I’m not particularly sure why that memory stuck in my head, but I remember it fondly. I suspect it was because you were my big brother. And you know, big brothers were better than Spiderman, even if they couldn’t shoot webs out of their hands.

• Do you remember swimming at night at Lynbrook? At the time, you had a friend who was a lifeguard there. You used to take me swimming with you quite a bit. It cost a quarter to get in, and after a little bit, they would take all of the quarters and toss them into the pool all over the place. You taught me how to dive to the bottom and get the quarters. You encouraged me to keep trying until I got it right. I’m still pretty good at it now.

• Who can forget Secret Agent Movie Starr, also know as Samm Starr? We had many great adventures when I took on that persona. Do you remember when we were waiting to get into our house in Saugus and we were all armed with squirt guns and sunglasses? Remember the music we used to hum?

• Who can forget about the boxing gloves eh? I think they were from Karate or Aikido? You had me put them on and hit you as hard as I could. Only I wasn’t hitting hard enough and you encouraged me to hit you harder? And I did. And I kept punching, and punching and punching until you were curled up in a little ball on the floor. Just remember. I know you’ll never admit it but I took you down then and I can still do it now.

• Do you remember the birthday dinners? We picked whatever we wanted to have, and the other would fix it. You would choose something like London Broil and fresh green beans with blue cheese and all the fixings. And of course, you would always choose the “Oatmeal Cake.” Do you remember the time I decorated it with your house and tools when you were going through all of your renovations? I, of course would choose Cornish Game Hen, wild rice stuffing, and my dessert would be vanilla ice cream with blueberry sauce. I won’t lay a guilt trip on you or anything, but I haven’t had any Cornish Game Hen since I moved and I hold you personally responsible.

• I remember whenever you would stop by for a visit with us, the first and foremost thing that HAD to happen before you even had a chance to take your shoes off was a full fledged game of hide and seek. I do not think there was a single inch of space in my house that was not used as a hiding place at one point or another. Closets, cabinets, shelves, bathtubs…nothing was sacred. And whilst we are talking games, do you remember Sock Wars?

• I remember when I was a kid I used to think you were seriously bossy. I mean, don’t get me wrong. You still are, but I have matured enough now to let you think you are the boss, but not letting you know I am getting my way.

• Do you remember when Chickie was born? I was in labor at the hospital and I would call you about every hour. You were in a meeting during the height of it with some of the big wigs at the company where you worked but you kept on telling me to keep you informed. And when things became intense and it was difficult for me to talk, Mr. Moogie took over to keep you informed. So here we were, calling you every hour, and you would take the call and go and inform everyone how it was going. That contact was so important because by God I was about ready to give birth to a water buffalo but I had to let my brother know just what was going on, pain or not. I know it’s hard to understand but that was a major focal point to me and helped me through the stages.

• You’ve always been there for me, good or bad. If I needed you, I knew I could count on you. When I was in the hospital last year, and the near future looked pretty bleak, you called me every day and talked to me about anything. You told me funny stories of things that had happened to you. You pretty much talked to me about anything BUT being sick. Don’t get me wrong, you always inquired about how I was doing, and what was coming up next, but you didn’t dwell on it. That really helped me out immensely.

I guess what I want to convey to you is how much I love you, even though I’m not so good at conveying it with words. I know I’m bad at calling or communicating by email. Life tends to get busy here with your nieces which I’m sure you understand. I miss the visits and the dinners we used to have as a family. I know that we both have our own lives now. I’ve got my career going and am now starting in a new field which is terribly exciting and petrifying at the same time. I guess you could say I’m finally stepping out of the box. The girls are growing and are very active in sports and dance. They would make you very proud.

In many ways, it must be the same for you. You have entered new territory, searching for employment. While I know it must be frightening not knowing what the future may hold, I KNOW, without one single doubt that this is a temporary situation that you will rectify soon. You are a fighter (even though I can take you down), and you do not quit. And I’m perfectly confident that it will happen soon.

As you can see, I had quite a bit to say, even though my intentions were to keep this short and to the point.

Quite simply M, I love you, and I am so glad God gave you to me as a brother.

Love you forever,
Your YOUNGER sister,
Moogie

Posted by Moogie at 08:16 AM | Comments (6)