Kitty Kitty

Yeah, so okay...I'm still wanting the cat Mark gave me permission (honestly, I did try to type that with a straight face...) to get as one of my Christmas gifts. I keep checking all the local vets, PetSmarts, Petcos and even on-line at humane society web sites. I want a kitten because I have dreams of raising it into an extremely affectionate lap cat. My two cats are very sweet natured but not 'lap' cats. I want a cat that will cuddle with me.

Well, apparently there are kitten seasons, which are not for another month or so yet. It's soooo hard for me because I have absolutely no patience. Trust me, I've cut my own hair for years because once I get a notion to cut it, I can't wait long enough to get an appointment.

Last Sunday after church, Mark and the boys went to play frisbee golf and some hackey sack. I went off to take some pictures, but ended up afterward at the closest PetSmart. There were two older kittens, brothers. I fell in love with one but couldn't stand the thought of separating them. The volunteers kept telling me that someone would end up separating them...and I know that's true, but I just couldn't do it. He looked like a small Bengal tiger, so adorable. His brother looked just like Trouble, my youngest cat. But they cuddled and rolled around with each other. I just couldn't be the one to make one sleep alone.

When I came home there was a young black cat in my yard. Yup. He, apparently, is a wild one. He won't come to any of my neighbors or me, but everyone has seen him around recently. So, I put a bowl of food, water and a box with a nice sheet inside of it (hey...it gets chilly out at night) on my front porch. The first day it was out there we spotted him eating the food. I don't think he's used the box, but I've filled the food bowl up several times in the last couple of days.

Now, don't get me wrong. This isn't going to be my next pet. I want an indoor cat/kitten. Although Trouble does think he's a dog and goes out and comes in with my dogs without ever trying to get out of the yard by way of fence or tree, he's still an indoor cat. But, being able to take care of this new little black cat is satisfying my need right now. Hopefully long enough for kitten season to roll around.

When Mark saw the food bowl on the porch, he just kept walking and asked "what're we feeding now?". I really did marry the right guy.

Engagement Announcement

CONGRATULATIONS

SABLE & GENNA

~MANY, MANY BLESSINGS~

Whose Talk Are You Walking?

I finished reading a book, When Heaven Weeps by Ted Dekker, last week. Both my mom-in-law and my sister-in-law had read Dekkers series and had been wanting me to read them for the longest time. They're Christian novels. They know how I love to read and they loved this series.
There are many reasons why I did not enjoy this book. It's based on the principles of the book of Solomon from the Bible, but in modern day. The problem that hurt me to the core was that the book of Solomon was before Christ, before His sacrifice for us. So the principles that applied to Solomon do not apply to us today. I'm talking about the principles of having to suffer and work for our redemption.
Okay, I'm rambling here. The reason I bring this up is because of one line that caught my attention in the book.

Are your words louder than your life?

I know I've heard this a hundred different ways...but this stopped me and I've been applying it to many things the last few days. I think especially on blogging, it's easy for us to put our words out there. We love putting our best words forward for the world to see and judge us by. We can make ourselves be whoever we want to be in this tiny space of the cyber world. But then we let those readers into our actual life occasionally...and do the two compliment each other or oppose?

Does our walk mirror our talk, or does it give reason to question our talk?

Food for thought today. I'm still a geography teacher, so I need to stop 'talking' and start walking. Enjoy your day.

No Need For Notes

I'm enjoying this new series going on at our church, Fellowship Church. When y'all have some time, watch a few bits of it. The series is 'Good n Angry', about the positive kind of anger. Get something to snack on and put your feet up. It's a fun time, honestly. Our pastor is too cool...enjoy.

http://www.fellowshipchurch.com/currentseries

Rambling

I'm such a wimp. I'm chanting 'wimp, wimp, wimp' as I type. Wait, I lost my train of thought...did I have a train of thought going? Focus, people.
I have this little bitty, baby of a cold that's kicking my butt from the inside out. That's not a pretty picture, is it? Sorry...wait, where was I going? Oh yeah...
I've got this little bitty cold, and I'm being such a wimp about it. But that's not what I'm writing about. Well, it's the start to my end, but only in the longest route possible.
Mark told me to stay in bed yesterday and drink plenty of fluids...which was my total intent. And for the most part, I did. Well, except for the part of picking up Charlies friend in the morning and taking them both to school, coming home to help Casey jump start his car and follow him to Goodyear, dropping the car off and taking Casey to school, coming home to touch up my roots (women, wouldn't it just be easier to color the whole head of hair? I hate just doing the roots. I started graying at 16, so about 5 years ago I just went blonde cause it's so much easier to blend in gray with blonde. Ahhh, pooh...where was I?), dealing with Goodyear (put a new battery in to find out it was the alternator...runs great again...thank you Goodyear) and then I went shopping for a few new clothes to wear to work. All in all, though, a pretty stay in bed sort of day.
Off on a bit of a side road, why do people call when they know you're trying to rest? How do I know that they know I'm trying to rest? Because the first thing they say is 'I know you're probably sleeping...'. Well, yeah, I was trying to, but my phone keeps ringing. If I didn't have kids I'd unplug all my phones. I know what you're thinking, 'but your kids are nearly grown, they don't need you during the day when they're at school'...HA!!! Yeah, you'd think that, wouldn't you...if you didn't have kids! Or if you didn't have my kids, anyway.
Darn it, I'm lost out in the middle of a field again. I've got to get OnStar For Bloggers.
Back on track, I've got this little bitty cold. I'd love to take some Nyquil, pull the covers over my aching, chilling body and pass out. But I can't, because I have to stay in a 'ready to go' mode till my day is done, or until all kids are home and accounted for. So...I'm doing the Dayquil. Nondrowsy my butt.
When my hero and sweetheart of a knight gets home, I know my day is over and I don't have to worry about anything anymore. So, I go to bed and take my Nyquil. I tried to watch American Idol (the guys this year are so much better than the girls, don't you think deb?) but I can't keep my eyes open. A couple hours after taking my Nyquil, I'm shivering and aching again, one nostril refuses to acknowledge it's suppose to be a passage for air, and I've got a drainage race going on at the back of my throat. I know I can't take Nyquil again already, so I take some Excederin P.M.
Finally, I'm to my point!!! Why can't meds play nice with each other?? In 20 minutes I feel like I'm on speed from hell. My mind is racing with thoughts that sane people never admit to having, my legs are twitching and kicking the dog without mercy (and no, that's not a sly way of referring to any part of Marko. Our lab, Porter, always sleeps with us), and I can't quit peeing (which means I have to keep getting out of my warm bed over and over and over).
So, while I'm laying there with my mind racing faster than Jeff Gordon on a good day, I'm thinking why can't meds play nice with each other? P.M. should go with other P.M. just like legos build off of each other, don't you think?? Why do P.M. and P.M. equal A.M. with too much caffeine?
It's like antidepressants warning that you shouldn't drink alcohol with them. Who drinks more than the depressed? Or pain pills warning you shouldn't drink...c'mon, other than the depressed, who drinks more alcohol than those who are in pain? See...I'm thinking they should all be able to get along. Help each other, contribute to the system like welfare and food stamps. If you don't want them to mix well with anything else, then make them stronger! Or, take off the every four hours instructions. Yeah, I know...brain damage, death, law suits. But, dang people...when you're needing medication, it's not the time when you're thinking your clearest.

I'm late getting ready for work. I'm a geography teacher today. I need caffeine, Dayquil, and some ibuprofen. Those should all play well together, don't you think? I can't help but wonder if I should post this or delete it, I don't know how it could have possibly made any sense, lol. There goes my day. So, read quickly people, it may disappear soon.

Gifts

So, yesterday neither of my boys appreciated my post. Being the ever thoughtful and loving mom that I strive to be, I responded with "tough". However, I do want to give a bit more insight to my boys. Talking about one of the very few mistakes Casey makes may not be completely fair.
Casey has always been a responsible kid. He is 18 months older than Charlie, so they've grown up best of buddies and worst of enemies. Depending on the mood, the time of day and all the other crumbs of human nature thrown in. Hey, my feelings about them change from moment to moment too, sometimes.



When Charlie came home from the hospital, Casey loved him. Charlie was a Christmas eve baby and his first day home we had him in a bassinet in the living room with all the extended family "oohhhing" and "aahhhing" around him. Casey wanted to show 'Bubba' his new Christmas gift, a Fisher Price recorder with a microphone attached. He was too small to see into the bassinet, so he threw it in, hitting Charlie in the head with it, as a handful of adults watched in horror. Casey did it in love, but Charlie still blames Casey for any trouble he has thinking...lol. But, Casey has always loved and tried to take care of Charlie. Every morning we'd find Casey in Charlies crib. He'd climb in and cuddle with Charlie sometime during the night or early morning. It was cutest thing we've ever seen.

I don't ever remember Casey being jealous of Charlie...or vice versa. I've always been blessed with them. Both boys were great babies, sleeping through the night 90% of the time from the time they were newborns. They've never had any major illness, rarely been sick at all. Being so close together, and Charlie being such a big baby, they've nearly always wore the same size clothing, played with the same age appropriate toys and have always had each other to play with.

Don't get me wrong, they were total nightmares on occasion. Charlie has never felt fear in his life. He'd jump on and jump off of anything thing he could climb (still does). He's had two black eyes at the same time from different accidents.

Taking them to the store was pure hell as soon as they were big enough to walk, with them hiding in clothes racks at the department stores, disappearing down isles at the grocery stores. Lord...my hands shake just remembering it.

They giggled together, they fought together, they controlled my mood and my life together. I wouldn't change a thing. They made my days worth living. No exaggeration. I waited 15 years to have kids with every specialist from every fertility related field telling me it was impossible, that I could never get pregnant. Look at my miracles. I look back now and realize why it would have been a mistake to have had them any sooner. My life wasn't where it needed to be until the day I got pregnant with Casey. Thank God for His greater understanding.

Okay, back to my kids. They've always held up for each other. Our neighborhood was full of kids near their age while they grew up. My best friend, Mac (who lives across the street), has a son, Dusty, that is right in the middle of the boys ages. Also across the street was Abi (that leaves comments on my blog all the time), and her younger brother, Jason, that is also Dustys age. Abi and Nikki (who lived next door to Abi) are 5 years older than the boys and when they were old enough, they babysat for the boys. We've been very blessed in our neighborhood. There were four other families that had kids that were in the boy's age group on our block, so we always knew who our kids were with and where they were.

This is a picture of Jason (Abi's brother), Charlie, Dusty, Shelley, Abi (behind Dusty) and Casey.

While I'm here, let me show you a couple more recent pics

of Abi:This is one of my favorites, I made it into a magnet on our fridge.

And one more she sent to me recently:

So when you see Abi comment, give her a wave and tell her she really needs to set up her own blog.

So, again, back to my boys. They've always been best friends, always wanting to be together.

People have always told me that I must've had my hands full with them being so close. Maybe, but I can't imagine it having been any better than it was.

Casey has always been the big brother, the one who looks out for them, takes care of things. He'd always want to help me take care of Charlie, by bringing diapers, bottles, putting ice on his boo boo's, whatever.

I've always been able to depend on Casey.

I suppose the last blog about him messing up wasn't quite fair. No, it was fair. But my point is that it was something rare, and though he is more than trustworthy...things happen and because they do, parents worry.

Casey cooks, better (and probably more often) than me, cleans up after himself and others and does his own laundry. He gets himself up every morning at 5:30 a.m. to go work out, comes home around 7 a.m., and goes back to bed for an hour before getting himself up to go to school. He drives himself, and works out for football for an hour after school each day. He's an amazing kid.

This first picture was Christmas of '03 in Taos:

The second picture was Thanksgiving of '04:

And, of course, my favorite picture of them, while the three of us were having dinner on the Riverwalk in San Antonio last year:

These are my guys, and my greatest blessings. I can't begin to tell you how my life changed because of them, how many smiles and laughs a day they provide me with.

Yes, this weekend Casey had a lapse in judgment and it scared the hell out of me. But, I think if that's the worst he has done in 16 years, I can deal with it.

Casey...Charlie, I love you both so much it hurts. I'm so thankful to have you. You'll never know until you have your own kids how much joy you bring me.

Thanks to all of you for reading this. Pride is a hard thing to keep hidden for long.

18 Months Until College

So, I couldn't find my kid this weekend. What parent hasn't temporarily lost a child. Okay, 16 year old, but still my baby.

The first thing to do is not panic.
The second thing to do is panic.
The third thing to do is get mad.
The fourth thing to do is mentally threaten him with everything but death.
And finally, fifth...play the death card.

I've got two very different boys. Casey, 16, has always been the responsible one. Charlie, the 15 year old has always taken after me and needs two chips surgically implanted, each governed by a remote control. One chip for his actions and another for his thinking. Hey, it's 2006...don't tell me it can't be done.
Sorry, got off track...back to my 16 year old.
Casey was invited to a friends church for a 'lock in'. Our church occasionally has this for teens as well, and Casey visits this church almost weekly, so we had no problem with it. We knew the guy that had invited him, known him for years as he plays football with Casey. Good kid, really good kid. Casey told me that he'd be home sometime Saturday, probably afternoonish.

Tell me, what does afternoonish mean to y'all? I'm thinking Saturday...somewhere between 1 p.m. and 4 p.m. Sound about right? Tell me if it doesn't, I'm trying to be rational here. Because, apparently, to my bright and responsible child it could also mean Sunday afternoon. Catch on people...SUNDAY. Yeah.

We'd been expecting a wintery mix (high chances of it, never showed up...but still we were expecting it), so I'd told Casey that if he was to drive anywhere or get in a car with anyone to call me and tell me. Square in the eye response...'okay mom'. Square in the eye doesn't mean what it use to. Of course, I'm not sure what it use to mean cause I could never look my parents in the eye...I was always too loaded to make direct eye contact...probably couldn't find their eye anyway.

Saturday afternoon around 3 p.m., we begin expecting him at anytime. 5 p.m. comes and goes. We start trying his cell phone. It's turned off, you know when the message picks up right away that it's turned off and it almost feels like you're purposesly being ignored. Okay...another invention...remote control cell phones so the parents can control the on/off, volume of ring and even a slight electrically charged shock, if needed, of course.

Around 5:30 Mark goes to the church (which we'd never been to, but knew approximately where it was located). Mark calls me to say Casey's car is there and doesn't appeare to have been moved, and that there are many cars around his. Okay, come on home scout.

At 6:30 Mark takes Charlie and they head back to the church. I'm hoping at this time that the 18th message I left on Casey's phone about being afraid (very afraid) to come home hasn't delayed his heading home. They get to the church and Charlie goes inside (there is a Saturday night service going on now) and asks someone where Casey might be. They asked him his school year and when told he is a junior, they told him all the juniors were at a weekend retreat until Sunday afternoon. They also refused to give out the phone number of the house where the retreat was being held. So, Mark and I are thinking...cult? They finally give us a printed off Mapsco set of directions to the house, which is a good 20 minutes away, but not the phone number. I'm at home, in case Casey shows up, and Mark and I are constantly calling each other for updates.
Mark and Charlie drive, drive and drive till they finally find this house and Charlie goes to the door to get Casey. The way he describes the look on Casey's face is so funny. Deer in headlights sort of look. Charlie told Casey that Dad would like to see Casey in the car. Once he gets in the car, Mark has him call me. You know...the fear of God and Mom thing.
Casey told me over the phone that they'd told them no cell phones were to be used, so he'd left his in his overnight bag. (I'm telling you, parents need remotes!) AND he thought that since we knew he was at a church function that we'd not worry about him. NOT WORRY ABOUT HIM WHEN HE PLANS ON BEING 24 HOURS LATE?? We were near calling out for a neighborhood search party when he was a few hours late. Can you imagine us just saying, 'oh well, he'll probably show up before school on Monday'?? He didn't know it was going to be 2 nights when he left here on Friday night. He'd brought home a flyer telling about it and requiring parent info...but somehow it got lost here at home. I'd hand written a note saying we gave Casey permission to attend the lock in and since Casey carries his own health insurance card, he had all the info the church had required. If we'd seen the flier, we'd known it was for the entire weekend. Apparently, Casey hadn't thought to read it either.
Here is the line that he has said several times since Mark got him in the car "I didn't think about it". Didn't you think we'd wonder where you were? "I didn't think about it". When you realized it was two nights, couldn't you have asked to call your parents? "I didn't think about it." Remember when I told you to call me if you left the church whether you were driving or you were going with someone else? "I didn't think about it".
Mark sent him back into the house to complete the weekend retreat. I think I may have brought him home, though I'd regretted it probably. He got home Sunday afternoon around 2. We've had several long talks and I'm pretty sure he's going to have plenty of time to 'think about it' now.

Okay, so yeah, I know there are so many worse places he could have been than at a church retreat. That's not my point. My point is the WHERE IS MY KID?? mode for a parent is a very scary situation. I understand the kid doesn't realize this, but the later it got Saturday afternoon, the higher my blood pressure got and the danger zone at the back of my brain was kicking in.

Casey told me last night that a female friend asked him to take her to her senior prom. Sure...okay Casey, but tell me hon, is that a weekend thing?

More Than A Class Room

I'm a fighter. It's very difficult for me to give up on something, to give in when I'm not ready to admit defeat. I suppose that I am one of those people that believe they know what's best. Let's forget the fact that I'm rarely wrong, that's not the point. The point is my attitude.
I am confrontational. And, I'll admit, I enjoy a good confrontation. I'm never purposely hurtful, but I am honest. Very honest. I'm not someone who will confront someone to embarrass them. I'll, if given the option, make it private.
Both of my boys take after me in this way. My husband is not what you would call confrontational. He's the stereotypical male that will hold something in until he just blows. He says that he'd rather work it out, and maybe sometimes he does. But while he's working it out, others around him walk on egg shells. I appreciate knowing where I stand with someone, and I always make it clear where someone stands with me.

I do believe there are people that need to know they can't get away with things, that someone will hold them accountable for their actions, for their words and for their attitude.

Teaching at a high school level, I get them a little late. Of course, that's my choice because I'm not a fan of little kids. But, by the time some kids get into high school, they're already use to what they can get away with.

For the last seven years I've been a sub. For the first 3 or 4 of those years my assignments were 'long term' and then I started taking on the 'difficult' classes. I'm alright with being given the difficult classes because for whatever reason, I'm able to relate to them.

The biggest reason for long term assignments are because a teacher quits...suddenly. I can definitely understand a teacher leaving the education field for the private sector because of the money. Teachers are so under paid it's insulting. What I can't understand are the teachers that just walk out. Yes, some kids get in your face, some kids ridicule you trying to get a laugh, some kids ignore you because they think they can, because it's worked for them in the past. Why? I'd like to know this too, but I see so many kids that have gone through 9 to 11 years of school being able to bully not only students, but teachers as well. Until someone refuses to be bullied, they'll keep at it.

I honestly believe it's an injustice not only to the student, but to the student's future teachers, future relationships, future job opportunities and future children, to not hold a student accountable for their actions in a class room. I understand that it's easier to ignore a student and to sometimes just try to make it through the class period. I understand trying to reach the kids who want to learn first, but allowing a student to disrespect you (the instructor), or other students is setting an example as well as a pattern. Not only for the student, but for your class room.

I can't tell you why I'm off on this tangent, but I am. Perhaps it's because I relate to a lot of the kids that are the problem. I was one of these kids and I'm thankful for the teachers that didn't turn their backs on me and consider me a lost cause. Perhaps it's because the teachers who do turn their backs on these kids and take the easiest way out really tick me off. Perhaps I just felt like letting off a bit of steam. And, whew...I feel better.

Let's Play

This game is a pain in the butt and I can't stop playing it. Blame it on Nikki, I do. The object of the game is to left click on the red box and move it to avoid all the blue moving boxes AND the black frame. Let me know what your best time is...and no stretching the truth either!
Enjoy :)

A Ghost Story

My Hoosier family that reads my blog (*waving at y'all*) will all be shaking their heads today, and thinking 'it's about time' you told people about Charlie.

Let me just put it out there, I grew up in a very spiritually active house. Some may call it haunted, and a lot of people did call it haunted, we just called it home. We moved in when I was 4 years old and it's the only home we ever had. My sister sold it about 5 years ago, right before my dad died.

What I remember being told was that it was an old farm house that had been moved from it's original location when a road was put through out in that part of the country. It was a two story, red brick house with 2 bedrooms upstairs with a window at the top of the landing that looked out over the drive way, and a living room, dining room, bathroom, kitchen and back room (that had been added on sometime before we bought it). Pretty basic house. I know it was over a hundred years old when we moved in, but I'm not going to speculate as to an exact age of the house.

Some of my earliest memories of Charlie had nothing to do with fear. I was alone in that area. The only memory I have of moving in to the house is sitting in my rocker that my grandfather had made me in the middle of our empty bedroom. I remember feeling safe and listening to a conversation I didn't understand. I heard voices. I don't tell that much, but I always heard a man and a woman, as if in a tunnel, speaking to each other in a language I never understood. And I'd smell flowers. For some reason I think they were lilacs, but I don't know why. But the smell always made me smile and I remember smelling them most in the living room at the bottom of the stairs. No one ever experienced the voices and the smell but me, as far as I know. But it never scared me. It somehow comforted me.

I don't know why we, as a family, began referring to the odd things that happened as Charlie, but that's who we 'blamed' things on. There were the noises of pots and pans being rattled at night, like someone was going through our cabinets. This, sometimes, was almost deafening. However, my dad claimed he never heard it. Ever. But my mom, my sister and myself always did. You could go check it out and there'd be nothing. But as soon as you left the room, you'd hear it.
Another big incident that sticks out in my mind is bringing home some groceries, which included some Pepsi (bottles...yeah, I'm older than dirt) and dropping them off before we went back out. When we came home, several bottles had been opened and emptied. My parents searched the house, but it was locked up and no one was running loose in our home.
Too many times to count were the footsteps on the stairs. Old house, stairs creaked...one step at a time... Yeah, creepy. I'd wait them out...but (I'm going to apologize to my sister now) many times we'd come home to my sister being outside, too afraid to stay in the house. More than once we came home to my sister being outside in extremely bad weather waiting for us to come home after hearing the footsteps.
There were times Charlie would speak to my sister and I. I don't know why no one else heard him. He'd tell us 'good night girls' and when we'd say 'good night' back, thinking it was my dad, my mom would yell asking who we were talking to since my dad was still downstairs. Our bedrooms were next to each others, and my parents room didn't have a door. She heard everything...everything but Charlie telling us good night.
There were many sightings. People were scared to come to our house...I have to laugh. People from all around and all of our extended family knew about Charlie. But one of the times I remember most was when my sisters boyfriend from college (whom she later married) was in the drive way and waved at the old woman at the window on the landing at the top of the stairs. When told that we didn't have an old woman living with us, he had to be told about Charlie. Many people saw someone waving from the widow. Occasionally you'd catch the sight of someone in a door way, but the sighting I remember most is when I was a teenager and my parents were having a barbecue outside with some friends over. I walked into the back room to a man sitting on the couch reading a newspaper. He lowered the paper and looked at me. He was about the age of my parents, had black slicked back hair, common for the times, and was light brown skinned, maybe European, which wasn't common for our house. I went outside and asked my parents who he was and they immediately went inside to see who I was referring to. No one was there.

Our house was pretty well known, which was a bit embarrassing at times growing up. We had offers from people we did and didn't know, asking to visit, to hold seances and the likes. But as far as I knew or remember, we never allowed anyone to come in.

Mom always said that Charlie semi-retired (or was extremely inactive) after I left for college. But occasionally, he'd let it be known he was around. The last time I remember being told about Charlie was when my mom and her brother were in the back room (while my dad was in the hospital recovering from heart surgery) and a tv stand that was between them lifted off the ground and moved several inches, landing with a jolt. I heard that it scared my Uncle J.D. ( a large manly man) very much.

When I was pregnant with my second son, we decided on the name Charlie. My mom was extremely upset. To be honest, I hadn't thought about our Charlie at all when considering the name. I'd been praying constantly for a good friends son, whose name was Charlie, for about a year because he was born with severe health problems. I fell in love with the name, I think, because I was saying it over and over so much every day in prayer.

I don't really believe in ghosts...I mean to say ghosts as people who are trapped here after dying and play games with the living. So how do I explain Charlie? I don't know, I just thought I'd share this true story with you.

My T.V. Night

I love Tuesday nights. Two of my favorite shows, The Shield and Boston Legal are on. I so enjoy watching Boston Legal with my 16 year old, Casey. We laugh all the way through it, gotta love William Shatner and James Spader, well, we do anyway. Then I watch The Shield when Casey goes to bed. Tonight's episode, awesome. And, of course, once again...I've got to say it, it's got my favorite guy...Michael Chikilis. Mmmmm, baby, baby, baby!

Tom's Blog

I subbed for a computer class today, full of great kids. Seven classes averaging 20 - 25 students per class...I was ready to come home, but it was a good day. But, I'm walking a bit of a tightrope trying to mellow out a bit and I re-read a bloggers post from yesterday. It made me laugh as much as it did yesterday and as a result, all of my stress is pretty much gone. I don't know if you've ever read this guy, but if you've not, you should sometime. (I'm not going to post the name of his blog because I don't swear on my blog) Anyway, as sick as my humor is, I find him very funny.
This is the line that cracks me up every time I read it: 'Why is it people always want to change you to their way of thinking? “You just have to try this soup" , "You will love that movie, I did", "Killing is wrong”...

Sorry, but that humor fits me to a T. C'mon, it's funny!!

More Funny Stuff

Dear Internal Revenue Service:

Enclosed you will find my 2005 tax return showing that I owe
$3,407.00 in taxes. Please note the attached article from the USA
Today newspaper; dated 12 November, wherein you will see the Pentagon (Department of Defense) is paying $171.50 per hammer and NASA has paid $600.00 per toilet seat.

I am enclosing four (4) toilet seats (valued @ $2,400) and six (6) hammers valued @ $1,029), which I secured at Home Depot, bringing my total remittance to $3,429.00. Please apply the overpayment of $22.00 to the "Presidential Election Fund," as noted on my return. You can do this inexpensively by sending them one (1) 1.5" Phillips Head screw (see aforementioned article from USA Today newspaper detailing how H.U.D. pays $22.00 each for 1.5" Phillips Head Screws). One screw is enclosed for your convenience.
It has been a pleasure to pay my tax bill this year, and I look forward to paying it again next year.

Sincerely,

A Satisfied Taxpayer

Funny Stuff

Borrowed (okay, ripped off) from Greg's blog, but hey...it's funny !!

Pentagon / D.O.D. News Bulletin:

The Pentagon announced today the formation of a new 500-man elite fighting unit called the United States Redneck Special Forces.

These Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri, Oklahoma, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee and Texas boys will be dropped off into Iraq and have been given only the following facts about terrorists:

1. The season opened today.
2. There is no limit.
3. They taste just like chicken.
4. They don't like beer, pickups, country music or Jesus.
5. They are DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE for the death of Dale Earnhardt.

We expect the problem in Iraq to be over by Friday.

Sharing Jen's Site

Y'all know how I love photography. Here is a site of someone's photographs that I'm just in awe of . Take a look. PHOTOJENIC is set in Muskoka, Ontario, Canada, which is about 100 miles due north of Toronto, by Jen.
Amazing pictures, promise.

Warning...Warning...

I've had a bad day and the last thing I need is to watch this idiot on Dr. Phil. I've been in a 'pre-prozac' mood all day and you really don't want to make eye contact with me. Just a warning.

I took Charlie to the doctor this morning (waited 50 minutes for the Dr. while he stood outside our room talking to a drug rep) and to the pharmacy (waited 35 minutes), and it honestly didn't improve my mood. (*Charlie is fine, just a bit of a cold like infection that needs antibiotics)

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that I'm pretty good 350 days a year. Those other 15 days are hell for me and anyone who comes near me. No, they don't deserve it, and neither do I. But, other than burying myself in a hole without the slightest bit of air, I can't keep it from happening. It would be nice if the 15 (give or take) days would be in a row. Mark could just send me away till it was over and we'd all be good. But, it doesn't work that way. And I never know when it'll happen. Yes, I take all my meds. Before medication I was good maybe 50 days out of the year. I've taken prozac since Charlie was 4 years old...so, 11 years. About 6 years ago I had to have an emergency hysterectomy so I also take hormones. (* Another side note...the popular hormone Premarin is made from pregnant mare urine. It's what I was put on first, till I did a study and found out what it was made from and the complete hell that they put female horses through to make this. Pregnant mare farms...do a study, it's nasty and complete animal abuse. Since I refused to take it, they put me on Estradoil, a vegetable based hormone. Go PETA!)

Okay, talking about the ridiculously cruel things people do reminds me of this idiot on Dr. Phil that I started to blog about...an hour ago. I've heard commercials advertising shows discussing 'poly-fidelity' lately. I figure that many people will do most anything they can get away with and this poly-fidelity is just another example of it. It's a 'committed' relationship between a married couple with either another person or another couple. Whatever, whether I approve or not means nothing to anyone but me. This guy on Dr. Phil (which, I rarely watch but since Charlie was home, I was home) had been married to his wife for 20 years, they have 4 kids (from 6 years old to 16 years old) and was probably the most arrogant man I've ever seen. Wait...there was that guy I knew in Muncie...no, the guy today was the most arrogant. He was openly having an affair with a woman that he described (in front of his wife) as the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, "the kind of woman that makes men fall out of their seats" he said. He'd tried to convince his wife that this other woman could be a help to his wife because she (the wife) has so much to do taking care of their four kids and the house and all...and he has so much energy...see where he's going here?? That his having sex with this other woman would put less pressure on his wife to 'satisfy' him. He said that most countries around the world accept poly-fidelity relationships, and why should he be punished because it isn't accepted here in the states? Oh, hon...you should be punished a whole hell of a lot more than this. And I'm just in the mood to be the one who does it. The entire hour he tried to convince Dr. Phil and the audience how this isn't that big of a deal. Dr. Phil told him he was selfish and arrogant. I don't know if he (Dr. Phil) is always that on target, but he was today. He also asked the wife why she gave this idiot (my pet name for him) power over her life and happiness, and she said she wanted to save her marriage. Me? I'd be making sure this man had one hell of a life insurance policy and then I'd take up brake mechanics as a hobby...

Notes of Treasure

My mother use to leave refrigerator notes for me. These were not notes that she had written, though she could have because they sounded so much like her, but articles she'd found here and there and cut out for me. For even though she hadn't written them, they were still from her heart.

I remember one I found on the refrigerator while I was packing for my freshman year of college. It was an amusing little story written by a mother describing how lonely she was for all the irritating things that her daughter use to do, now that her daughter was away at college. My mom wrote on it "This is how I'm going to feel. Love, Mom". She wrote the date on it, she knew I would keep it and I did. I have it pressed along with all the other refrigerator notes she left me.

I don't remember if I thanked her for them. Probably not. But I've always been thankful for them.

My mom died suddenly and very unexpectedly when she was 53 years old. I still miss her every single day. Most of the time, though, I feel like she is right beside me, just waiting for me to listen to what she has to say about raising my kids, about my marriage and about life. When I listen, I believe I do hear her.

Those refrigerator notes may not have been her words, but they were her feelings. Now, they are my treasures.

My Photo Blog

One of the commenter's from yesterday, Crystalsmiledragon, also has a photo blog that she tries to update daily. Thus the name: Random Almost-Daily Pictures. I like this idea, as it'll force me to take more time to do something I love. So, just a note that I'm going to try to update my photo blog with at least one new picture a day. PLEASE don't feel obligated to look, just wanted to share what I'm doing.