Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Oh The #####s

When I was working at a little clothing boutique (a.k.a. Crazy Town), my job was to continually prop up the owner.  If business was slow and she was going off the deep end, I'd say it was too hot to shop, too cold to shop, too rainy to shop, too early in the week to shop, too late in the week to shop..........  I'd dig deep into the excuses bucket over and over.  It. Was. Exhausting.

When I first started writing this blog, the numbers were dismal and I was o.k. with that.  It was new and I needed to get the word out, and when I did, things started picking up.  I check the numbers a couple of times a day, much like my former employer checked the register.  A few weeks ago I had my best day and oh me, oh my, I was starting to hope that this thing was taking off and getting some attention.

Then this past week came and went with numbers so bad that I wanted to pick up the computer and heave it out the window.   Is it too hot?  Too August?  Too what?  Every time I checked was a punch in the gut of my self-esteem and that's taken a shellacking lately.  I whined to The Big Daddy that maybe this was a bad idea, maybe I suck at this.  Maybe being the entertainment for two dozen people in a day is too much work.  Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Today I read about a guy who writes a weather blog that gets 80,000 hits a day.  Hurricane Irene and he was up to 650,000.  For crissakes, you can open up the window and figure it out for yourself most of the time.  If I got a fraction of that, I'd have thought I'd died and gone to heaven. 

Maybe one of these days, I'll hit the literary jackpot, but in the meantime, today's high in Kansas City will be near 100 (no shit people.....again with the hunnerds and the humidity), winds out of the west at 12 mph and partly cloudy.  Watch your back Mr. Big Shot 80,000 Hits Weather Blogger.  I'm knocking back a shot of assertive and going after your audience.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

The Visitor

Teacher Girl and her Prince Charming were feeling the need to share the love, and so they adopted a puppy.  Butters is her name, and she is about the cutest dog in the land.  They've all been learning to get along, but with both of them at work all day, Butters needed some company and that's how she ended up with me the other day.

Whoa.  Whoa.  Whoa.

Henry and I spend our days as pretty laid back roomies.  We walk in the morning and then he sleeps for the rest of the day.  I putter, I do some laundry, do some stuff for the next Prairie Girls sale, do the checkbook, freak out about money, do some writing.


A few hours of that and I sat on the couch and fell asleep.  Thankfully, Butters did the same.  A whopping ten minutes later and she was up and at 'em again.  I took her to my neighbor's house who also has a dog with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and they ran for an hour straight in the backyard.  This will wear her ass out.   No sirree, she still had some deposits left in the energy bank, but, thankfully Teacher Girl arrived on the scene.

I can't say I'll never have her over again because her cuteness more than makes up for her ADHD.  Henry, on the other hand, had enough of this little piss ant bugging him and wouldn't so much as acknowledge her for the most part.  But, oh that Butters, she doesn't tolerate being ignored and got up in his business until Henry showed her who runs this house.  And what a surprise, the little Butterball didn't take the hint.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Breaking The Law

For the last year, I've picked up Mallie Bee on the same street.  Every day, 2:45.   Usually around one of these signs posted on the street.  I've got the company of other parents, as well, and a new mom asked me if it was o.k. to pick up there considering the signs.  Sure thing, I said, nobody cares.  Nobody cared until a couple of days later when the Popo pulled up next to me and said.....

Ma'am you can't park here.  Oh, I can't?

Do you see the signs?  I do, Officer, but I'm not parking. 

Ma'am, you'll have to move, we're trying to prevent cars from getting stacked up.  You mean all five of them.

You can park one block over, but not here.  And the difference would be? 

The difference would be that there aren't any no parking signs there like the one right in front of you.   Duly noted, Deputy Fife.

Eight no parking signs on a residential side street kicking everybody out where a current or former president does not live.  Overkill, City Council, overkill.  I told the Beester we'll give it a couple of weeks and lay low and then I'll go back to picking her up in the usual spot.  The Popo may have the stinkin' badges, but I've got my stinkin' rights and pay my stinkin' taxes.  Just like the Tea Party, I'm going to start a movement and parking rules are just the tip of the iceberg.  

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Small Tall Grande

I'm not a fan of Starbucks and it's not because I don't think they're cool.  They own the cool factor between their product, their shop, even their musicMy cool brother and his wife go so often that they bought the employees on the early shift Christmas gifts.   I wonder if they gave them Starbucks gift cards ;)   My cool sister goes every day and passes along curly hair styling tips that she gets from the girl working behind the counter.

My problem with Starbucks is that they're always yelling at people.  Yelling your name and yelling your order as if you aren't standing right in front of them waiting for your coffee.  What's with all the yelling?   Can't they say, oh, are you Nancy with the espresso?  Well, there you go Nancy.  Mellow, laid back, like a coffee shop should be. 

I worked at a shopping center that had a Starbucks and a bagel shop.  I bought my coffee at the deli counter at the grocery store.  It was from a local company and it cost a whopping 69 cents.  The old lady working the counter always looked like she was asleep or dead, and in two years of going there, not once did she smile or act like she'd ever seen me before.  Her customer service was average or below all the time, and mine would be too, if I smelled like salami every day.

But.......I liked her.  Not once while she was working her crappy job and I was about to clock into my crappy job, did she ever yell at me.  Separated by twenty years and a meat counter, we had a lot in common.  Two women doing time for The Man.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

The Vacation Chronicles: Good Times

The Big Daddy and I have rarely taken the kids and gone on vacation.  We have squirreled our money away to make sure they can go to college, and that has meant that the fun, expensive stuff doesn't happen very often.  In fact, it happens about every five years.  But, oh my, when we do go we appreciate every second of it.  This trip was just about perfect - a wedding, our Lake Michigan, perfect weather, sweet little beach town, some boating, some cocktails, good grilling and great roomies.  The pics..............

Chicks in good clothes and nice shoes.

Big Daddy & The Captain looking like badasses in their vintage hats.

BD telling the table that everything he does makes it on the blog.  Yep.

The cousins table.  They had the fever.  Dance fever.
Teacher Girl & Prince Charming - they're next @ "I do."

Menfolk making breakfast.

Rough water, riptides, crazy people in the water.

I can ride a bike.  I did ride a bike.  I loved riding the bike.

Crashing, real cool.

I loved this house.  I stalked this house....on my bike.
Little Dancer becomes Little Mermaid

The Boy Child in action.
You know you're on vacation when there's a lighthouse.

Every day, same seats.

The Captain, Tennille & The Big Daddy

Lotto win + beach rental = maybe next year.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Hearting The Cubs

The starting shortstop for the Chicago Cubs, Starlin Castro, was benched this week for not paying attention.  While he was supposed to be watching the infield and the ball in play, he was looking at the sky, standing with his glove off and eating sunflower seeds.

Is this guy ADD, the press wanted to know.  Nah, he's just a Cubs player.  The Cubs haven't won the World Series since 1902 and are currently in 5th place.  They almost always end the year in 5th place.  If they manage to get any higher, it's kind of a big deal and labeled a pretty good season.

If you are a Cubs fan, you understand losing.  Watching a major league baseball player staring off into space reminds us of ourselves while we're at work, and it's why we've been known to call in sick and head to the ballpark to see how the pros do it.

"Losing is like a disease, as contagious as the bubonic plague."

Monday, August 22, 2011

Here They Come

My dad worked for the Edison Company in Chicago for more than 40 years.  He was in charge of safety for the company.  When a guy climbed a poll to restore electricity, my dad was the one who made sure he was trained and knowledgeable in the work he was doing so that he didn't electrocute himself.  Early in his career, he had to make a house call to a young wife to deliver the news that her husband had died on the job, and that's the kind of thing that stays with you always. 

We have wicked storms here in Kansas.  Everything you have ever read about them is true, and because of that, it's not unusual to lose our electricity.  One time it was out for seven days, another time five.  We've always toughed it out and managed to get along, but when those power trucks start rumbling into the neighborhood, you want to kiss the ground they roll in on.

Because of a lifetime of my dad's stories, I've never taken them for granted or the people behind the scenes who worry about them until they return to the station.  They are old-fashioned cowboys in these modern times we live in, working long and hard doing dangerous work storm after storm.  And, yes, they do save the day.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

After The Storm

We had a doozy of a storm here the other day.  I slept through the entire thing, which is highly unusual.  To sleep, that is.  When we woke up late the following morning, we discovered the power had gone out during the night which was why the alarm never went off.  I made a coffee run while The Big Daddy was in the shower and although our street was fine, all around us trees were down.

Two days later, BD and I took the long way home from church and did a tour of the area.  Oh geez,  it was crazy how much damage there was and the randomness of it.  One side of the street would be fine and the other side looked like somebody took a wrecking ball to every tree.

We couldn't believe we slept while this was going on, but that's how we roll lately.  Maybe in our youth we might have been storm chasers, going out to see nature do its ass kicking, but age and wisdom have caught up with us. 

Now we're damage gawkers and that means we've officially crossed over to the other side.  The old people side.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Vacation Chronicles: Open Water

Several years ago, The Big Daddy and I went to see "Open Water".   The movie was about a couple that goes scuba diving in the Barrier Reef and when they come up, the tour boat has left without them.   It was based on a true story and by the end, they succumb to the elements.  Well, that and the sharks.  It. Terrified.  Me.

When we were on our vacation, I'd get a panic attack every time we were in the boat, for fear I'd get tossed out and left behind until death mercifully came.  It took some doing, but I decided to put my big girl panties on one afternoon and get on the boat so I could hang out at the beach while the kids went tubing.  The Captain anchored the boat, The Big Daddy went swimming down yonder, and the kids and I got in the water.  We were on a sandbar having fun until it was time for them to go tubing and I needed to swim to shore.

Every time my foot left the sandbar, I'd panic.  I tried about five times and I couldn't do it.  Finally, I got a life jacket on SO WHEN I WALKED TO the shore, I wouldn't die.  About this time, The Big Daddy comes back and says........

What are you doing with a life jacket on?  Going to hang out on the beach.

You don't need a life jacket.  It's a safety measure.
Safety for what?  For when the sharks come.

It's a lake.   It's big like the ocean.

You're in four feet of unsalted water.  Maybe the sharks got lost.

Maybe you've lost your mind.   That's why the sharks can't have my arms and legs.

While the kids watched all this from the boat, I thought I felt something by my leg and that's when people in the movies always feel the sharks.  I didn't hang around to convince them I wasn't crazy because me and my life jacket needed to bob to the shore.  When I had safely landed, I made a beeline to the bathroom.

It was hard work dodging the sharks, and just an FYI here, it is possible to have the shit scared out of you.

Source: None via Josie on Pinterest


Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Back To School Night

Next year at this time, The Big Daddy and I will be empty-nesters.  No more up and at 'em in the early dawn.  No more packing a lunch or signing off on forms we haven't read.  No more crazy parking lot of crazy teenage drivers.  And no more Back To School Night.

Thank God.

Every year when I join the herd of parents shuffling between classes to meet the teacher, it feels like I'm right back in hell.  The Mean Moms are there in their Ralph Lauren attire which stands out nicely against the fake bake.  They're joined by Prosperous Dad who pops his collar cuz he makes $200 grand a year, which for some reason makes him think he's made the varsity golf team.

We make our way from class to class, signing in (yes, we love Junior and care about his education) and grab a syllabus.  It's always crowded and always hot, unless you luck out and end up in the basement in one of the art rooms where the teacher is cool and the room is cooler.

We went to a French class one year and Madame Teacher was sporting a beard (that doesn't seem very Frenchie) and whoa.........She. Was. A. Battleax.  I was so stinking afraid of her that I never moved my head, keeping it perfectly lined up behind the person in front of me.  As if my big fat hair wasn't going to out me.  When she asked if there were any questions, I wanted to raise my hand, but I was so afraid of her that I sat there with a stupid grin on my face, nodding like I just got off the short bus.

Back to school night.  Just like back in the day, but, mercifully, only two hours long.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The Vacation Chronicles: Fisher Man

The Big Daddy loves to fish which is why he never misses "River Monsters."  One episode of River Monsters was about a fish that is so small it can (and will) enter a man's penis.  I bet you never heard about that one during the Meet and Greet at the club.  Our cottage was on a river that emptied into Lake Michigan.  The Big Daddy kept saying he wondered what was in that river and I told him he ought to dip his pole in there to see.  With a baggie over it just in case.  Or maybe we needed to make a trip to the Wal-Marts so he could buy himself a fishing pole.

A couple of hours later, he was sitting on the dock fishing, happy as could be.  The rest of us let him be because with the exception of a fish swimming up your hoo-hah, it's a pretty dull sport.  Before long, I could hear The Big Daddy yelling, "GET THE NET!  GET THE NET!  THE BIG ONE!"

Here's me bringing the BIG net.

Geez, kids, I said, I think your dad just caught Moby Dick.  Instead he landed this:

They kind of look like brothers from different mothers.

He caught more after that.  He said they were about this big:

Seriously?  That Big Daddy sure can tell a tall tale, but the real reason he's so happy is because he didn't come home with a freeloader in his pants.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Love Song

When the Boy Child was in high school, he fell hard for Sara Bareillles and her lovely voice.  She was coming to a club in Kansas City and he begged me to take him since he wasn't old enough to get in by himself.  I was a very reluctant chaperone.  It had poured that day and I must have asked him five times if he was sure he still wanted to go.  He wasn't about to let me off the hook.  I was the oldest one there by at least two decades and the place was a dive.  The roof had leaked from the heavy rains and there was standing water all over the place, including the ledge that I set my purse on.  If the fire department or city codes inspector had any idea that people were standing in water on the inside, they would have shut the place down in a hurry.   Good times, real good times.

And then Miss Sara, who was the opening act, came out to sing.  She was charming and humble and sang like an angel, and I thought her mama must be so proud of her.  The Boy Child said told you so and I downloaded his c.d when we got home.  Whenever I hear her, I think about that nite and how the children will lead us if we're willing to go.


Sunday, August 14, 2011


My kids are of an age that requires far more $$$ than highlighters in order to start the school year.   We still have the mega-buck calculator (under threat of serious harm to anyone who loses it) and the backpack does not get replaced unless you make a mighty good case in front of the committee of Mom.  As far as new shoes?  Let me show you the last pair I bought that were worn less than a week.

The ease of getting the kids into school hasn't always been like this.  Just ask a parent who's received the godawful school supply list in the mail.

Prang water colors.  Prang water colors have never, ever been used in the history of elementary school, but they make the cut every year.  Your insubordinate Mom won't be a team player and buy another one?  Well, 2nd grader, we'll just put a check mark next to that and you can start the first day of school feeling like a loser.

Kleenex.  Best if purchased by the case to supply the classroom, gym, music and art room, and don't forget the library.  The state can't afford to shut down Planned Parenthood and provide boogie wipes for all you snotty, little kids.

Red pens.  Let's grade our neighbor's paper, shall we?  That would be that Flanders' kid who will have told everyone in class how dumb your little darling is during recess.  He's hoping to grow up to be a professional Shit Starter, just like his dad. 

New design of the school tshirt only $15.00.  Sweatshirt a mere $30.00.  Don't you want Junior to show his school spirit?  That died when he got passed over for the soccer team.  Twice.

PTA enrollment with check.  You are going to join the PTA, aren't you?  Oh, I thought that was some sort of wacked out religious cult.  No?

The Mob probably learned how to run a racket from the Annual Back to School Shakedown that happens at this time every year.  Stressed out parents and whiney kids populate every aisle of Target buying crap they don't need and has little to do with them becoming successful.

I bet even The Mighty Big Chief wonders how he ended up on the cover of a writing tablet considering his people likely wrote their answers in the dirt.  His bad......he must not have ordered the pre-pack.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

The Vacation Chronicles: Das Boat

This is the Captain, who is married to my sister.  The Captain loves his boat.  Like he would be a polygamist and marry it if he could.  When we landed on the shores of Lake Michigan, he couldn't wait to get that thing in the water.
This is the boat that would take us water skiing and tubing.
On the first day, The Captain loaded up the boat with chairs, the cooler, canopy and towels, and he and The Big Daddy drove to the Sand Suburbs and anchored it while the rest of us hiked our way thereFive minutes after we arrived, he was ready to take some clients out on the water.  So ready that while trying to avoid the anchor rope, he backed up and hit the tow rope which got sucked into the engine and killed it.  Like game over killed it.

This is my sister's cankle.  She took that cankle down the beach and flagged down some jet skiers who towed The Captain's disabled boat back to the dock for repair.

This is Teacher Girl's Prince Charming and he hauled the wagon of crap that came by way of boat through the sand, over the hills and across the bridge back to our cottage.
While he was doing that, The Captain and The Big Daddy got the boat out of the water and into the parking lot of the boat launch to work on it, and once in awhile we could see their heads appear from underneath the boat.

This is the river that The Big Daddy swam across when he needed a knife.  His original plan was to swim back with the knife clenched between his teeth, but he thought better of it when I pointed out the Amish family over on the dock.  Maybe next time, Tarzan. 

With asphalt stuck to their backs, The Captain and The Big Daddy eventually arrived back at our dock with one repaired boat.  That night we went to the movies and saw "Cowboys and Aliens", but we already knew what kind of hero can kick some ass and save the summer vacation.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Moving Day

The Boy Child kicked the dorm life to the curb this year and is moving into an apartment.  To say he was excited would be putting it mildly.  Why are these kids so damn happy to leave this house?  He and his dad went to get the moving truck and we loaded it up and went on our way.

This is The Boy Child's room.  When he was in kindergarten, I took him to an estate sale and bought a few things lickety split before he got bored and into trouble.  I saw the sign from an old boat tucked into the corner of the basement, but wasn't able to hold onto him and the things I already was buying so I left it there.  Oh, but I thought about that sign all morning.  When I dropped him off for the afternoon at school, I made a beeline back to that house.  Please, oh please, oh please still be there.  There it was looking all forlorn and forgotten and I scooped it up and took it to the cashier who couldn't believe nobody had bought it sooner.  I still love that sign, just like I love the boyness of that room.

This is The Boy Child's peg rack which yesterday was loaded with hoodies that I would nab when I got cold.  He stripped his room pretty bare and looking at that empty peg rack when I got home made me about as forlorn as that sign waiting for a new home.  I did some dusting and cleaned under the bed.  Then I went into the closet where I found some of his jackets and hung them up so it looks like a boy still lives in this house.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

The Vacation Chronicles: A Wedding

Day Two of our vacation was the wedding of our niece, Meghan to Geoff.  Those two are fun, fun, fun and it doesn't hurt that they look like they walked out of an Abercrombie ad.  My brother and their mother divorced years ago and he had custody of Meghan and her three siblings.  Several years later, he met Sharon and they married and together raised these kids, which was no easy task.  They've weathered their fair share of storms, intact and happy, so it was a lovely thing to see that dad of hers take her for a spin on the dance floor

Monday, August 8, 2011

The Vacation Chronicles: Driving Day

The family vacation started last Friday with The Big Daddy driving the family to Chicago.  He tends to fancy himself as a pioneer, forging a trail northward for Ma and the Youngins.  We have hitched our wagon to this trail for nineteen long years and The Big Daddy is about making Good Time.  Move along, let's go, time's a wasting.  The trip with a stop for lunch takes nine hours, but Pa would love to crack that time and have something to tell the menfolk over the campfire while they're whittling their pipes. 

Somewhere in Iowa I had to take a bathroom break and The Big Daddy said I'll just keep the car running while you go in.  That means run that overactive bladder of yours in and out so we stay on schedule.  Back in the car and down the road he says to me, "We should have been at this point at 2:45 instead of 2:52."  What are you talking about? " I'm calculating our ETA and now we're off by seven minutes."   I'll be sure to wear Depends from now so you won't be able to tell if I'm looking out the window or peeing in my diaper. 

Ten miles from our destination and due to arrive thirty minutes early, we came to a screeching halt due to construction.  Like a driver in a NASCAR race, The Big Daddy pulled off the road and bobbed and weaved in search of an alternate route.  Trouble was he was in unfamiliar turf, but it just so happened to be the town where both of my grandmas lived and I knew a little something about the old school ways of getting around before they put in an interstate.  Namely, Route 6.

He will tell you that he was never really trying to beat the nine hour mark, that he wasn't out to prove anything and that I'm just like my brother when it comes to embellishing a story.  There's some truth to that.  I'm just saying that like Moses, it was me that delivered my people to the Promised Land.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Dog Logic

The only time I've not had a dog in my entire life was the five years we lived in Maryland.  When we had to give Clem away when we moved there, I cried and cried and am always on the prowl for a Clem look-a-like. Currently, we have a dog, cat, Boy Child's hamster and a couple of fish tanks.  Yep, we love the animals.

The other day, I was watching t.v. and a commercial for dog food came on and said, "If you're a pet parent.........."   What?  I understand the attachment to a pet and I often talk to mine like they're capable of dispensing advice, but I am not, nor never will be the parent of an animal.  You know the difference when you are a parent, because a dog will not roll its eyes at you, does not make fun of you and so far, is not capable of putting you in a nursing home.  A sick dog will not make you bargain with God to do anything to make it better, including taking you.  A dog wags its tail every time you walk in the door (even if you left a minute ago to take out the garbage) and loves you almost as much as feeding time.  A child, however, will take that comfort zone rug you've been laying on all your life, rip it out from under you and while you crawl to get back to it, they'll have tossed it out the door.

And that's o.k., because it is youth that changes things, that questions the status quo and puts a mirror in front of you to examine and defend your beliefs, and then slowly changes everything about your life.  While they're doing what they're meant to do, we all get pushed forward, for better or worse, and no dog is going to do that.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Who's Hot?

We are finishing up our fabulous week of vacay with better posts to come next week.  Sorry :(.  I thought I'd be writing away up here, but a girl from land-locked Kansas can't waste her time doing that when there's so much lovely water to gaze upon.   In the meantime, I thought I'd post a picture of The Big Daddy in some sweet, little shorts I crocheted just for the occasion.  Oh, he's a looker all right, but sorry, ladies, he's taken.

Thursday, August 4, 2011


With Oprah in reruns and closing up shop, I think we need a new Favorite Things Sheriff in town.  Okay, I'll be it. 

My Picks For Things I Love Like A Back Alley Hooker Loves Crack:

The Daily Show
I heart anything on t.v. that does not make the assumption that I am stupid.
See above.

I am addicted to this website.  Like I need an intervention.

Stevie Wonder, Dean Martin, Usher, James Taylor & Michael Buble
I love me a man that can sing me out of a bad mood.

Chip and salsa.  Chips and guacamole.  Chips and hummus.
No explanation needed.

Savers Thrift Store
Recently purchased an Ann Taylor black silk dress for $12.99 less 30%.  Score.

Gin and tonic.
The go to drink of the summer for me and The Big Daddy.

Garnet Hill, Sundance and Pottery Barn catalog.
Add to make-believe shopping cart with make-believe pile of money.

Sparks Flea Market
Two times a year.  Lots of farmers clearing out their barns of vintage goods with a little flirting to go with that deal we're bound to make.

The Book of Wisdom
A spiral I've kept for many years of great writing - be it quotes, articles, advice or motivation.  I add to it and look it over all the time.

Malted Milk Balls
When the kids were little, I kept a stash hidden inside the crockpot.  Whenever there was a meltdown at the OK Corral (like every day), the kids would be sent off somewhere to "think about their behavior" and I'd head for the balls to de-stress.

I plan to update this from time to time, but I've kept the first one basic and inexpensive, because that's how I roll these days.  Most good things in life are the simple pleasures, right?  I kinda crack myself up sometimes with my AHA moments.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

The Dream Is Dead

This photo has been on my fridge for six months.  My dream kitchen.  See, I even wrote that on there in case somebody needed an idea for a birthday present.  Oh Lordy, how I love looking at this picture.  I imagine myself in there getting ready for a dinner party.  I look pretty.  I'm standing under the chandelier and the soft light is making me glow.  Good working dimmers.  I've washed my hair.  For once.  I have makeup on and took time putting on concealer so my undereye circles look sufficiently concealed.  I'm wearing wedges and a cute, ruffled apron over my little black dress.  Big Daddy comes down and he looks handsome and smells good.  He puts his arm around me and says, "Would my lovely wife like a glass of wine?"  I smile, he whispers in my ear and I throw my head back and laugh.  Oh, it's the dream life I have in that kitchen.

Do you see how the whole corner was ripped off?  The Big Daddy needed some scratch paper and used this piece of paper.  My dream kitchen picture.  I can't even have a copy of something nice.  How am I supposed to daydream about my dream life in my dream kitchen when the photo looks like the dog chewed on it?  My dream kitchen photo has become a snapshot of my real life, as if I needed a reminder of something that started out nice until it got into this house.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Stash

Isn't this a great little dresser?  It's next to The Big Daddy's side of the bed.  It's much bigger than his last dresser and gives him more room to store his books and other reading material in all the drawers.  It's also where we store all our sex toys.  I kid. I kid.

He likes having it on his side of the bed for many, many reasons. 

Sheesh, this is where the fur handcuffs are supposed to go.

Monday, August 1, 2011

A Donation

Mallie Bee and I were at CVS, each buying some things.  I was before her and when all my items were rung up, the cashier asked me if I would like to donate $1.00 to ALS.  One dollar.  I said no because it's automatic to me when someone is trying to upsell me something at the register to turn them down.  When I had ten seconds to think it over, I said of course, yes, add that on, what was I thinking.

Mallie Bee went next, paid for her items and we left.  When we got in the car she said, "That lady never asked me if I would like to donate $1.00."  Would you have, I asked her.  Yes, she said, I think that would be a terrible disease to have and I would want to do something for someone who has it.

It nearly made me cry to think in all of my fumbling and bumbling through parenthood, I raised a teenager who makes minimum wage handling other people's dirty clothes and she doesn't have to think long about parting with some of it to help another.  It also nearly made me cry to think I was close to blowing it all by example.