Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Monday, February 27, 2006
Bout That Time
You know, scientists are always discovering little tidbits of oddly disconcerting information about our bodies. For instance, did you know that the hypothetical ancient purpose of your appendix is to digest tree bark? Don't try it. Trust me. I'd like to know the hypothetical ancient purpose of PMS. I mean, there has to be a reason I envision the teeth flying out of all the mouths I'd like to smack. And there must be cause for my overwhelming sense of self-pity greater than just to increase Verizon's stock value in whiny calls to Delta Hotel. My doctor said I needed more B vitamins, exercise, water and better nutrition and less coffee. I smacked her. Her teeth fell out. Who wants to exercise when all the moisture for six counties is resting in my abdomen and ankles? Who wants anything other than a salt lick and a bar of chocolate? I don't want to cook. I don't want to match up all the stupid socks.
Poor Delta Hotel. At least he knows the drill. Sure, he's out there leaving a Hollywood Star style butt impression on the comfortable chair in front of the warm fireplace with the big stupid dog as a footrest while I slave over what seems to be the aftermath of a missile assault in the kitchen, but at least he knows by now to keep his mouth shut and smile. And I just keep telling myself, "I chose this profession. I love this profession. There is NOTHING better than this profession." And then I pop another B Vitamin. And put the kids back to bed.
Poor Delta Hotel. At least he knows the drill. Sure, he's out there leaving a Hollywood Star style butt impression on the comfortable chair in front of the warm fireplace with the big stupid dog as a footrest while I slave over what seems to be the aftermath of a missile assault in the kitchen, but at least he knows by now to keep his mouth shut and smile. And I just keep telling myself, "I chose this profession. I love this profession. There is NOTHING better than this profession." And then I pop another B Vitamin. And put the kids back to bed.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
What's up South Dakota?
I think it takes a special kind of arrogance to not only impose your personal viewpoint on others but to then consider your word as law and your law equivalent to Gospel.
When I went to school, I learned that The Republic of the US is different and better because it was of the people, by them and for them. Admittedly I wasn't the sharpest student in the bunch, but still I don't recall any part of the Constitution affording the government the power of moral authority. That's what the church was for. Thus, the separation of church and state.
I don't pretend to be a moral compass, but I do take responsibility for the care, education and life-skills training of my own, and I think that's the first step in restoring self-reliance and common sense. If you put my kid in a room with a gun, she wouldn't touch it. She would assume it was loaded and she would leave. I know this because I have taught her weapons safety since she was chewing on frozen teething rings. (call me, Dick) I wear my seatbelt. My kids know that if the car is on, so is the seatbelt. It's ingrained. And as for the sex thing...I'm not there yet with my girls, but the times coming and I'm studying and planning the course of action to take.
If I want to drive without a seatbelt on, let me kill myself. Women who need to have abortions will have them, law or no law. That's been proven already. And guns? Teach safety and compassion and responsibility not fear. Get to the root of the problem.
In the words of my father, "YOU CAN'T LEGISLATE MORALITY."
Our current administration claims to be God-centric. (I think I made that word up) So my question is, if God gave us free will, who is the government to take it away?
When I went to school, I learned that The Republic of the US is different and better because it was of the people, by them and for them. Admittedly I wasn't the sharpest student in the bunch, but still I don't recall any part of the Constitution affording the government the power of moral authority. That's what the church was for. Thus, the separation of church and state.
I don't pretend to be a moral compass, but I do take responsibility for the care, education and life-skills training of my own, and I think that's the first step in restoring self-reliance and common sense. If you put my kid in a room with a gun, she wouldn't touch it. She would assume it was loaded and she would leave. I know this because I have taught her weapons safety since she was chewing on frozen teething rings. (call me, Dick) I wear my seatbelt. My kids know that if the car is on, so is the seatbelt. It's ingrained. And as for the sex thing...I'm not there yet with my girls, but the times coming and I'm studying and planning the course of action to take.
If I want to drive without a seatbelt on, let me kill myself. Women who need to have abortions will have them, law or no law. That's been proven already. And guns? Teach safety and compassion and responsibility not fear. Get to the root of the problem.
In the words of my father, "YOU CAN'T LEGISLATE MORALITY."
Our current administration claims to be God-centric. (I think I made that word up) So my question is, if God gave us free will, who is the government to take it away?
Friday, February 24, 2006
| Your Inner Blood Type is Type A |
 You seem cool and collected, though a bit shy. You are highly driven and a perfectionist, but that's a side you keep to yourself. Creative and artistic, you are a very unique person who doesn't quite fit in. People accept you more than you realize, seeing you as trustworthy and loyal. You are most compatible with: A and AB Famous Type A's: Britney Spears and Hilter |
The weird thing is, my real blood type is A neg. So I guess I cancel myself out. Which is good because I'm not so comfortable being in the same category as Hitler or Britney. And here are the degrees of seperation between Britney and Hitler...
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Anniversary
Tonight was our third annual Nibletpalooza. The Niblets is the name of the writing group I belong to, and annual is actually a lie because we loose ourselves amongst society each time a month with an extra Thursday comes along. I guess that probably sounds weird, but what are writers if not eccentric? Tonight we celebrated the groups one year anniversary. That's a pretty big event so I celebrated by falling in love with Guinness. I am not a big drinker. The reason for this is one tequila incident, one major gin incident, one Malibu incident which incidently spoiled all rum , several brown liquor incidents and, most recently, a pinot grigio incident. Oh, and a merlot incident.
The point is, tonight was really fun. Those of you who have known me for a long time know that I have a strange genetic disorder, thanks to my dad. Most people have a filter between their brain and their mouth. I, unfortunately do not. Usually I can reign this problem in, but not tonight. Not long after my Cobb salad appeared, served on something which resembled the Riccola horn, I enlightened my fellow Niblets with a three hour marathon of my minds dribble. Sorry guys. But remember, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Unless you're a lawyer and Dick's your best friend.
The point is, tonight was really fun. Those of you who have known me for a long time know that I have a strange genetic disorder, thanks to my dad. Most people have a filter between their brain and their mouth. I, unfortunately do not. Usually I can reign this problem in, but not tonight. Not long after my Cobb salad appeared, served on something which resembled the Riccola horn, I enlightened my fellow Niblets with a three hour marathon of my minds dribble. Sorry guys. But remember, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Unless you're a lawyer and Dick's your best friend.
I forgot...
To shamelessly plug my first essay published...
(click on non-fiction in the left menu bar, then Sandstorms and Miniskirts)
I think it will only be up till the end of February. I REALLY forgot to shamelessly plug. Oh well.
(click on non-fiction in the left menu bar, then Sandstorms and Miniskirts)
I think it will only be up till the end of February. I REALLY forgot to shamelessly plug. Oh well.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
I Think They Know Something
the rest of us don't know.
By they, I mean the insurance adjusters at Toyota. After I ran over a screw the other day, I drove on a rapidly deflating tire over to our dear friend Rainman's mechanic shop so he could fix it. While I waited (which wasn't long because sweet Rainman dropped everything to plug my tire) I looked over my warranty. I've got a great warranty, and am covered against everything but nuclear warfare and Acts of God. It specifically states that. If we happen to survive both a nuclear attack and the resulting fallout, any damage done to our car just isn't covered. I get that, weird as it is to think about. But, how do they determine the Act of God? Does someone say to me, "I'm sorry Didi, we won't cover that screw in the tire because God put it there?" Imagine, all these billions of spiritual leaders and pilgrims when all along Toyota has the direct line to the Big Man.
By they, I mean the insurance adjusters at Toyota. After I ran over a screw the other day, I drove on a rapidly deflating tire over to our dear friend Rainman's mechanic shop so he could fix it. While I waited (which wasn't long because sweet Rainman dropped everything to plug my tire) I looked over my warranty. I've got a great warranty, and am covered against everything but nuclear warfare and Acts of God. It specifically states that. If we happen to survive both a nuclear attack and the resulting fallout, any damage done to our car just isn't covered. I get that, weird as it is to think about. But, how do they determine the Act of God? Does someone say to me, "I'm sorry Didi, we won't cover that screw in the tire because God put it there?" Imagine, all these billions of spiritual leaders and pilgrims when all along Toyota has the direct line to the Big Man.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
I Don't Know What to Say
I had some great things to write about. I had a PLETHORA of great things to write about. But one of Delta Hotel's good friend's just died.
I just talked to this guy. He called for Delta, but Delta wasn't home. He had these sweet southern manners so he talked to me for a while. COme to think of it, every time I saw him he was happy. He had two little ones. You've never seen such a gentle father. I guess he had a massive heart attack, by the time he got to the hospital, there was nothing anyone could do. He was 35.
I just talked to this guy. He called for Delta, but Delta wasn't home. He had these sweet southern manners so he talked to me for a while. COme to think of it, every time I saw him he was happy. He had two little ones. You've never seen such a gentle father. I guess he had a massive heart attack, by the time he got to the hospital, there was nothing anyone could do. He was 35.
Monday, February 20, 2006
If you want my advice, I say become a mother. There is no way to understand the spectrum of available emotions otherwise. There's also no better way to stay young. Today we ate Peeps, built a volcano out of cardboard, exploded it with a mixture of baking soda, vinegar and dishsoap a total of three times, played hardcore tickle tag for an hour, stayed in our pajamas till 1:00, made a circus, had a magic show AND watched the new SpongeBob. And then when the kids got up, we REALLY had fun.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
IKEA is not a store, it is an alternate universe. Have you been? I think it actually has it's own zip code. IKEA not only has escalators, but conveyor belt hills which move you AND your cart to the next floor. IKEA watches your kids for you while you shop, feeds you Swedish meatballs and is so big, it has it's own parking garage, police force and rentable car. It also has this butcher block island. I don't know what kind of life I lived before I realized that this little hunk of gorgeousness existed, but I do know I need to have it. ASAP. This island was crafted lovingly by IKEA elves specially for my kitchen. I mean, the perfectness is uncanny. Thanks for the pic CeBe W.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Let's Just Call Them "Suggestions"
Last night, after I got home from writing group, Delta Hotel informed me that I would be hosting a dinner party the following evening at 6:30.
"Just make whatever you were making anyway. And don't worry about cleaning up, it's just so-and-so from work."
WELL.
EVERYBODY knows that there are three types of guests.
1. Lysol, Mop-N-Glo, Windex guests
2. Throw it all in the bedroom and shut the door guests
3. Doesn't matter they've seen it before guests
EVERYBODY knows that persons who have not yet been into your home and are coming over in 18 hours to sample your cooking AUTOMATICALLY fall into the first group. Delta Hotel could shout from the rooftop that I don't need to clean up for so-and-so, but first impressions are everything. One day he could come over and find six bras hanging on the towel rack and four inches of cheerios under the table and a pound of coupons and junk mail on the counter and if he has the impression that we live straight out of Better Homes, he'll just assume I've been burglarized recently.
So, 7:00 this morning, I switched my dial to crisis mode. I cleaned, I grocery shopped (despite Delta's permission, I was NOT reheating leftovers for our dinner guest) I chopped sliced, sauteed baked and crimped. At 3:00 Delta Hotel called and babbled about some thing or another and then went on to inform me that the dinner plans had been bumped up. They would arrive at 4 for an hour of entertainment from me before eating. I was sitting in my car in line at the elementary school at the time. In a panic, I drove my car over the gym teacher, picked up Ya-Ya and her friend, and committed thirteen other moving violations to get home and finish cleaning, cooking and putting on my mascara.
Finally, after hours of planning and preparation, with adrenaline PUDDLING around my ankles, I sat down. I looked at my watch. 4:30. Were could Delta Hotel be? So I called him. He had decided to stop at his friends house for a visit.
"How lovely," I said. "I do hope you're having a nice visit. Now come home and eat the food I have been cooking all day in the kitchen I've cleaned 8 times at the table with the cloth that is not only fresh out of the drier, but ironed, on the seat where your ass should have been a half an hour ago, MR DINNER PARTY."
No I didn't. I'm far too passive aggressive for that. My friend Ms. Em came over to pick up her daughter. She said, "My goodness it looks just like a restaurant in here. There's such an ambiance." and she gave me an idea.
When Delta hotel still hadn't arrived at 5:30, I set out 2 plates, 2 napkins and 2 forks, lit a candle, hoped the house wouldn't burn down, and I laughed all the way to the car.
But then I came home, two hours later. Not only was Delta Hotel's guest there, but he turned out to be a corn-fed cross between Opie, Mother Theresa and Pollyana. There I was all bitchy and passive aggressive and ready to smile and make sarcastic remarks at Delta and he was all, "OOH I love your cooking your house is so great and you look like you're twenty-one." Talk about stripping a girl of all her defenses. Even my big mean dog loved him.
The events of today have forced me to redefine my boundaries. We won't call them rules, merely suggestions. Just like doctors "suggest" you don't smoke or take six vicadins at a time or walk on the train tracks while listening to your ipod.
1. I now require at least 24 but preferably 48 hours of notice before a dinner party involving guests from the first category.
2. I now require a written, signed and witnessed document stating the time dinner is to be served.
3. If this is a problem, I have two words for you: Order Out. or Doit Yourself. or Kiss myass.
Thank you and goodnight.
"Just make whatever you were making anyway. And don't worry about cleaning up, it's just so-and-so from work."
WELL.
EVERYBODY knows that there are three types of guests.
1. Lysol, Mop-N-Glo, Windex guests
2. Throw it all in the bedroom and shut the door guests
3. Doesn't matter they've seen it before guests
EVERYBODY knows that persons who have not yet been into your home and are coming over in 18 hours to sample your cooking AUTOMATICALLY fall into the first group. Delta Hotel could shout from the rooftop that I don't need to clean up for so-and-so, but first impressions are everything. One day he could come over and find six bras hanging on the towel rack and four inches of cheerios under the table and a pound of coupons and junk mail on the counter and if he has the impression that we live straight out of Better Homes, he'll just assume I've been burglarized recently.
So, 7:00 this morning, I switched my dial to crisis mode. I cleaned, I grocery shopped (despite Delta's permission, I was NOT reheating leftovers for our dinner guest) I chopped sliced, sauteed baked and crimped. At 3:00 Delta Hotel called and babbled about some thing or another and then went on to inform me that the dinner plans had been bumped up. They would arrive at 4 for an hour of entertainment from me before eating. I was sitting in my car in line at the elementary school at the time. In a panic, I drove my car over the gym teacher, picked up Ya-Ya and her friend, and committed thirteen other moving violations to get home and finish cleaning, cooking and putting on my mascara.
Finally, after hours of planning and preparation, with adrenaline PUDDLING around my ankles, I sat down. I looked at my watch. 4:30. Were could Delta Hotel be? So I called him. He had decided to stop at his friends house for a visit.
"How lovely," I said. "I do hope you're having a nice visit. Now come home and eat the food I have been cooking all day in the kitchen I've cleaned 8 times at the table with the cloth that is not only fresh out of the drier, but ironed, on the seat where your ass should have been a half an hour ago, MR DINNER PARTY."
No I didn't. I'm far too passive aggressive for that. My friend Ms. Em came over to pick up her daughter. She said, "My goodness it looks just like a restaurant in here. There's such an ambiance." and she gave me an idea.
When Delta hotel still hadn't arrived at 5:30, I set out 2 plates, 2 napkins and 2 forks, lit a candle, hoped the house wouldn't burn down, and I laughed all the way to the car.
But then I came home, two hours later. Not only was Delta Hotel's guest there, but he turned out to be a corn-fed cross between Opie, Mother Theresa and Pollyana. There I was all bitchy and passive aggressive and ready to smile and make sarcastic remarks at Delta and he was all, "OOH I love your cooking your house is so great and you look like you're twenty-one." Talk about stripping a girl of all her defenses. Even my big mean dog loved him.
The events of today have forced me to redefine my boundaries. We won't call them rules, merely suggestions. Just like doctors "suggest" you don't smoke or take six vicadins at a time or walk on the train tracks while listening to your ipod.
1. I now require at least 24 but preferably 48 hours of notice before a dinner party involving guests from the first category.
2. I now require a written, signed and witnessed document stating the time dinner is to be served.
3. If this is a problem, I have two words for you: Order Out. or Doit Yourself. or Kiss myass.
Thank you and goodnight.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Yoga and the Bullfrog Effect
I had yoga tonight with Tiarra. Our yoga class is in ballet studio with a great big wall of mirrors. I wore my yoga pants (duh) and a tank top and a little tee shirt. From the front, I thought I was looking ok. I've lost three pounds. Granted, I ate enough chocolate since last night to smother a herd of water buffalo so I am retaining some water. Ahem. But I wasn't horrified by my reflection. Until we turned to the side. I looked as if I had swallowed one of the kids in the studio next door before coming to class. I tried to suck in but it just wouldn't work. I started wondering - did I swallow a kid? But then I remembered the law of precedence. Being a three time veteran of the child bearing experience, my gut knows exactly where it's boundaries are, and exactly how far it can go.
"I look like I'm five months!" I whispered to Tiarra.
Tiarra thought that was funny, maybe because it was true. She chuckled and giggled and got out of step with our leg swings and almost kicked me in the face. Then she got in trouble and had to scoot down further on the bar.
I just don't think it's fair that a person can work so hard, lose over twenty pounds and still hang on to the bullfrog effect. I might as well have stayed pregnant! Anyway, I've got the rest of a box of truffles to eat now. Why not? There's certainly room. Oh, by the way, they definitely did NOT come from Exxon. Neither did my long stemmed roses. Delta Hotel did well.
"I look like I'm five months!" I whispered to Tiarra.
Tiarra thought that was funny, maybe because it was true. She chuckled and giggled and got out of step with our leg swings and almost kicked me in the face. Then she got in trouble and had to scoot down further on the bar.
I just don't think it's fair that a person can work so hard, lose over twenty pounds and still hang on to the bullfrog effect. I might as well have stayed pregnant! Anyway, I've got the rest of a box of truffles to eat now. Why not? There's certainly room. Oh, by the way, they definitely did NOT come from Exxon. Neither did my long stemmed roses. Delta Hotel did well.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
| Your Candy Heart Says "First Kiss" |
 Your ideal Valentine's Day date: a romantic dinner your sweetie cooks for you Your flirting style: friendly and sweet What turns you off: cynics who don't believe in romance Why you're hot: you always keep the romance alive |
What Does Your Candy Heart Say?
HAPPY VALENTINES DAY
People just don't seem to believe in Valentines Day. Now, I know there's no fat guy or acid trippin bunny or pardoned turkey, leprechaun, fireworks or menorah. Maybe that's why some people think that Valentines Day is a pre-fab chocolate/lingerie/stuffed gorilla day. But let me remind everyone: ALL HOLIDAYS ARE PRE-FAB. Every single one of them. All holidays serve to remind us of certain events in history or life that we are too busy to focus on the rest of the time. And that's OKAY. Holidays keep us touch with the natural rythms and cycles of the world around us. Why not inject a little charity, faith, hope, magic and love into our regular programming.
Nitroglycerin pills aren't naturally occuring either, but that's no reason for a heart patient not to take them.
Nitroglycerin pills aren't naturally occuring either, but that's no reason for a heart patient not to take them.
Monday, February 13, 2006
A Good Day
Today was a good mommy day. I must mark it down as evidence for my daughters' future therapists.
Delta Hotel called me at 2:00 this afternoon and asked me what I wanted for Valentines Day. This is ritual, as there is a 2:00 call before every holiday/birthday/anniversary. This used to frustrate me because telling somebody what to buy for you 18 hours before the event is as romantic as a sperm bank. I said the same passive thing I always say, "Ooh, I dunno. I don't need anything." (For any guy out there, the literal translation for THAT line is - "Dumbass I've been telling you I want a F*^&ING spa vacation for SEVEN GOD DAMN YEARS so help me sweet JESUS if you come up with another lame ass cheap box of chocolates and a gas station bouquet of carnations again I will fry your freaking ass with the battery cables off your own truck" - just so you know) It's too late for this holiday, but I'm going to make a list, stick it in my wallet, or better yet his, so from now on he can be sort of like a valet service, buying me all the things I want without me having to leave the house.
Delta Hotel called me at 2:00 this afternoon and asked me what I wanted for Valentines Day. This is ritual, as there is a 2:00 call before every holiday/birthday/anniversary. This used to frustrate me because telling somebody what to buy for you 18 hours before the event is as romantic as a sperm bank. I said the same passive thing I always say, "Ooh, I dunno. I don't need anything." (For any guy out there, the literal translation for THAT line is - "Dumbass I've been telling you I want a F*^&ING spa vacation for SEVEN GOD DAMN YEARS so help me sweet JESUS if you come up with another lame ass cheap box of chocolates and a gas station bouquet of carnations again I will fry your freaking ass with the battery cables off your own truck" - just so you know) It's too late for this holiday, but I'm going to make a list, stick it in my wallet, or better yet his, so from now on he can be sort of like a valet service, buying me all the things I want without me having to leave the house.
Now, don't get all crazy on me here and think I'm being selfish and ungrateful and materialistic. I don't need proof that Delta Hotel loves me. If (when) I get the flowers and chocolates from Exxon, I'll be almost (not quite) as happy as I would be getting a spa vacation. Because it's the thought. Even if the thought didn't enter the brain until actually laying eyes upon the gas station. Even if it's nothing but a kiss or a shoulder rub or lucky penny, I'd rather it be an extension of what Delta Hotel thinks about.
Friday, February 10, 2006
My man's website's had a facelift
Now that you know that, maybe you'd like to know that the paranormal extravaganza of this week performed an encore today. I was on the phone with Tiarra talking about the weeks events when all of a sudden, I was talking to no one. Or no one of this realm, I should clarify, since the phone's screen said "Parallel line in use." I have no "parallel lines". I spend half my life calling my home phone from my cell phone or vice versa just so I can find the ones I have. So, I called Tiarra back, having just begun a lengthy explanation of something or another and not being in the mood for interruption, and guess what she said? After we'd become disconnected, she called me back and got a message saying my phone number was not in service. Someone, or someTHING, obviously in a parallel universe, had hijacked my phone to make a call. Talk about rude. I was taking KV's advice, hittin the road, when I heard it squawking from the kitchen window like electronic laughter. The Walkie Talkie I've dubbed Christine.
Tuesday is Valentine's Day. I hope Delta Hotel gets me a spa vacation. I got him some underwear to replace the ones I cut up when he pissed me off during "the decision era". Of course, I already replaced them. He hasn't been going underwearless for the last two months. He just didn't have any peanuts underwear with lucy & snoopy throwing softballs. I'm a sucker for a little "subtle" humor in a pair of boxer shorts.
Now that you know that, maybe you'd like to know that the paranormal extravaganza of this week performed an encore today. I was on the phone with Tiarra talking about the weeks events when all of a sudden, I was talking to no one. Or no one of this realm, I should clarify, since the phone's screen said "Parallel line in use." I have no "parallel lines". I spend half my life calling my home phone from my cell phone or vice versa just so I can find the ones I have. So, I called Tiarra back, having just begun a lengthy explanation of something or another and not being in the mood for interruption, and guess what she said? After we'd become disconnected, she called me back and got a message saying my phone number was not in service. Someone, or someTHING, obviously in a parallel universe, had hijacked my phone to make a call. Talk about rude. I was taking KV's advice, hittin the road, when I heard it squawking from the kitchen window like electronic laughter. The Walkie Talkie I've dubbed Christine.
Tuesday is Valentine's Day. I hope Delta Hotel gets me a spa vacation. I got him some underwear to replace the ones I cut up when he pissed me off during "the decision era". Of course, I already replaced them. He hasn't been going underwearless for the last two months. He just didn't have any peanuts underwear with lucy & snoopy throwing softballs. I'm a sucker for a little "subtle" humor in a pair of boxer shorts.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
There's Somethin Going On...
King Vitamin said my recent deluge of dreams about coyotes should make me careful. Luckily, whenever I take the dog out to poop in the back 40, I wear my flak jacket, kevlar, steel toes and carry my AK with three bandoleers wrapped around my torso. Unfortunately, I think there is a far more ominous foe than some mangy old coyotes lurking in the scrub brush.
Monday afternoon my mom stopped by for a cup of coffee. We had just settled down at the dining room table when the sound of static screamed from my bedroom with a man's voice blinking in and out, completely unintelligible. I ran to my room and found Phee Phee's missing walkie talkie. That's weird, but okay, easy to see the logical explanation. WELL, my mom plays this game with the girls, it's one of those little trot-trot games where the baby sits on your knees and you jostle her around like a human milkshake to the tune of a nursery rhyme. My mom's nursery rhyme is in German, so I won't attempt to repeat it but it roughly translates to this:
Hop hop rider
watch your step
or the pony will fall of into the ravine
and your eyes will be pecked out by ravens
Really, it loses something in translation. Anyway, my mom was just getting to the fall down into the ravine part, the most bouncy part of all, when the walkie talkie cut in again and a hyper-female voice screamed out the peck your eyeball part. Now, even that is explainable. Could have been my mom's voice riding surfer on some rogue radio waves, I don't know how all that intangible stuff works. Could have been a trick of the brain. I DID do some heavy duty experimenting back in the day'n all.
The next thing, right before we left to pick up Ya-Ya and take Phee-Phee to ballet, the walkie talkie went nuts again. A voice, so close to Ya-Ya's that I was fooled, said "Mom, MOM, come get me!" Phee-Phee picked up the walkie talkie and tried calling to Ya-Ya.
"Mom, I'm ready," followed by the man's voice cutting in and out.
Again, explainable. Could have been picking up cell phone frequency or someone else's walkie talkie. But wouldn't you know, tonight after dinner, the walkie talkie spoke again from it's little charging nest on the kitchen windowsill. And guess what it said? "Mom, MOM, come get me!" then "Mom, I'm ready," followed by the man cutting in and out.
Monday afternoon my mom stopped by for a cup of coffee. We had just settled down at the dining room table when the sound of static screamed from my bedroom with a man's voice blinking in and out, completely unintelligible. I ran to my room and found Phee Phee's missing walkie talkie. That's weird, but okay, easy to see the logical explanation. WELL, my mom plays this game with the girls, it's one of those little trot-trot games where the baby sits on your knees and you jostle her around like a human milkshake to the tune of a nursery rhyme. My mom's nursery rhyme is in German, so I won't attempt to repeat it but it roughly translates to this:
Hop hop rider
watch your step
or the pony will fall of into the ravine
and your eyes will be pecked out by ravens
Really, it loses something in translation. Anyway, my mom was just getting to the fall down into the ravine part, the most bouncy part of all, when the walkie talkie cut in again and a hyper-female voice screamed out the peck your eyeball part. Now, even that is explainable. Could have been my mom's voice riding surfer on some rogue radio waves, I don't know how all that intangible stuff works. Could have been a trick of the brain. I DID do some heavy duty experimenting back in the day'n all.
The next thing, right before we left to pick up Ya-Ya and take Phee-Phee to ballet, the walkie talkie went nuts again. A voice, so close to Ya-Ya's that I was fooled, said "Mom, MOM, come get me!" Phee-Phee picked up the walkie talkie and tried calling to Ya-Ya.
"Mom, I'm ready," followed by the man's voice cutting in and out.
Again, explainable. Could have been picking up cell phone frequency or someone else's walkie talkie. But wouldn't you know, tonight after dinner, the walkie talkie spoke again from it's little charging nest on the kitchen windowsill. And guess what it said? "Mom, MOM, come get me!" then "Mom, I'm ready," followed by the man cutting in and out.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
I LOVE these things!
This meme comes courtesy of King Vitamin. Now that I've completed it, it's your turn.
Two Names You Go By
1. Big Mama in Pajamas.
2. Didi
Two Parts of Your Heritage
1. Italian
2. German
Two Things That Scare You
1. Dead boys in mirrors with long pointy fingers and black eyes
2. Flying.
Two of Your Everyday Essentials
1. coffee
2. shower
Two Things You Are Wearing Right Now
1. My favorite jeans that make my booty look less like the booty of a woman who has birthed three offspring
2. a ring of elephants
Two Things You Want in a Relationship (other than real love)1. Balance
2. Respect
Two Truths
1. A "tequila incident" is a rite of passage.
2. The universe has no center and no edges.
Two Physical Things that Appeal to You About the Opposite Sex
1. Chest, arms
2. Brain.
Two of Your Favorite Hobbies
1. Browsing in Barnes & Noble
2. writing
Two Things You Want Really Badly
1. Gerard Butler
2. an addition
Two Places You Want to Vacation
1. Scotland
2. The other side of Scotland
Two Things You Want to Do Before You Die
1. Gerard Butler.
2. Build a self-sustaining farm from the ground up with my hands and some tools
Two Ways That You are Stereotyped
1. People assume I'm a shameless hussy just because I'm a female Niblet.
2. People assume that I'm a bitch just because I happen to suffer from prolonged PMS three weeks out of the month.
Two Things You Are Thinking About Now
1. Why does my thumb hurt.
2. Why won't my kids go to bed?
Two Stores Where You Shop
1. Barnes & Noble
2. The Container Store
Two People You Haven't Talked to in a While
1. Soul-Sister
2. Rupp
Two Favorite Web Sites
1. Flylady - holla MBY -
2. Amazon
Two Pets You Had
1. Piper - quarterhorse/thoroughbred mix
2. Kitty - a feral cat
Two Favorite Sports
1. Football
2. Now that Bode Miller is around, skiing
Two People Who Will Fill This Out
1. CeBe W.
2. Pattycakes. YES YOU WILL!!!
Two Things You Did Last Night
1. Yelled at my husband because I couldn't write my essay
2. Dreamed about coyotes for the millionth time in a row
I accidentally deleted this question, but I guess it's shows I love to watch
1. Lost
2. NCIS
Two Names You Go By
1. Big Mama in Pajamas.
2. Didi
Two Parts of Your Heritage
1. Italian
2. German
Two Things That Scare You
1. Dead boys in mirrors with long pointy fingers and black eyes
2. Flying.
Two of Your Everyday Essentials
1. coffee
2. shower
Two Things You Are Wearing Right Now
1. My favorite jeans that make my booty look less like the booty of a woman who has birthed three offspring
2. a ring of elephants
Two Things You Want in a Relationship (other than real love)1. Balance
2. Respect
Two Truths
1. A "tequila incident" is a rite of passage.
2. The universe has no center and no edges.
Two Physical Things that Appeal to You About the Opposite Sex
1. Chest, arms
2. Brain.
Two of Your Favorite Hobbies
1. Browsing in Barnes & Noble
2. writing
Two Things You Want Really Badly
1. Gerard Butler
2. an addition
Two Places You Want to Vacation
1. Scotland
2. The other side of Scotland
Two Things You Want to Do Before You Die
1. Gerard Butler.
2. Build a self-sustaining farm from the ground up with my hands and some tools
Two Ways That You are Stereotyped
1. People assume I'm a shameless hussy just because I'm a female Niblet.
2. People assume that I'm a bitch just because I happen to suffer from prolonged PMS three weeks out of the month.
Two Things You Are Thinking About Now
1. Why does my thumb hurt.
2. Why won't my kids go to bed?
Two Stores Where You Shop
1. Barnes & Noble
2. The Container Store
Two People You Haven't Talked to in a While
1. Soul-Sister
2. Rupp
Two Favorite Web Sites
1. Flylady - holla MBY -
2. Amazon
Two Pets You Had
1. Piper - quarterhorse/thoroughbred mix
2. Kitty - a feral cat
Two Favorite Sports
1. Football
2. Now that Bode Miller is around, skiing
Two People Who Will Fill This Out
1. CeBe W.
2. Pattycakes. YES YOU WILL!!!
Two Things You Did Last Night
1. Yelled at my husband because I couldn't write my essay
2. Dreamed about coyotes for the millionth time in a row
I accidentally deleted this question, but I guess it's shows I love to watch
1. Lost
2. NCIS
Friday, February 03, 2006
Delta Hotel and I are watching Dateline NBC, the third part in a series about internet sexual predators. What can I say? If I've never been in a man-hatin' frame of mind before, it's hard not to be viewing the cross section of perverts on this show. There's nothing worse than a crime against a child. It's probably a good thing that I don't run the show because I don't think I'd be so big on rehabilitating these freaks. I think I'd take away the offending body part and call it a day. I'm in the middle of a hormonal tsunami, so it's probably better that I DON"T rant right now. Besides, I'm too busy daydreaming about what I could accomplish along side these sheriffs arresting the predators, if only I had a good sharp pair of pruning shears.
I know it's not healthy or productive or really life if you live inside a little cubbyhole of fear. (Or in my case, from inside a gallon jug of Hater-ade) But you can bet your sandwich that if any of my kids feel the need to create a MySpace account, or any other "teen" chatroom account, these eyes will be watching it.
I think I need to take my dog for a walk.
I know it's not healthy or productive or really life if you live inside a little cubbyhole of fear. (Or in my case, from inside a gallon jug of Hater-ade) But you can bet your sandwich that if any of my kids feel the need to create a MySpace account, or any other "teen" chatroom account, these eyes will be watching it.
I think I need to take my dog for a walk.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
YOGA
Tiarra and I went to Yoga/Pilates tonight. I had one of those brain function errors that led me to believe I am three kids and a decade younger than my back/abs/thighs think I am. The good news is I can still do a backbend. The bad news is that what must be a hundred million little puny muscles in my body feel like they've been over-boiled to the point of chewiness. It's all I can do to slither around like the grinch.
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