Parenting Isn't For Cowards

Yesterday, the t.v. was on to the Dr. Phil show. We don't usually watch t.v. in the afternoons, but it was on while I was on the computer and Charlie came in to the family room and laid down on the couch. I told him to feel free to change the channel, but he got into the program. Probably because it was about a kid his age, who was addicted to drugs and his parents were sending him away to a drug rehab.
Doors... It opened a door for Charlie and I to talk about what was going on. Not so much the drugs, because believe me, that's been discussed since they were babies. But about the child/parent relationship. The boys mother was crying and her heart was breaking as Dr. Phil went into her home and discussed with her that continuing to cut this child slack was not helping him. Charlie said that if that happened here, if he were on drugs, that I'd throw him out of the house. Sort of took me by surprise, but I understood why he said that. We have always had a rather 'no tolerance' policy here. Usually one warning and then consequences. I'm not a bluffer, never have been. If I say it, I mean it. However, I told him that I'd always try to help him first, whether it was rehab, counseling, prayer, whatever it took. If he continued and refused help, then yes, he'd have to leave.

I know that sounds cold. I wonder, though, if other kids had had that thought in the back of their heads, if perhaps they'd hesitated from doing the things they did that were their downfall? When I was growing up, I started doing drugs and drinking at 13 years old. No one noticed. Ever. I don't know how they didn't, because I can actually remember not be able to walk straight in front of my parents. But, my mom had her own addictions and my dad was either on his way in or out most of the time, so whether it was noticed or not, I don't know. But since I didn't have to answer for my behavior, soon I was out of control. My grades barely got me into a good university, and once there I flunked out my first year. I was taking an aquatic arts class and went in tripping on some acid, jumped in the pool and completely forgot how to swim. The whole year went by like that. But, somehow I had enough sense to keep going back. By the time I got my life straightened out, I maintained a 4.0 average. But, I wasted years. So, yes, perhaps I do tend to come down a bit harder on my kids than some parents.

Charlie and I discussed what he thought was 'over the top' behavior from me as a parent. Such as the times ( and yes, there are too many times to count) that I would go through a day of sitting in each of his classes with him to be sure that his behavior was acceptable, after receiving a second notice from a teacher that he was not behaving. First notice, I'd ask him to correct it. Second notice, I'll take care of it. Or, the year (7th grade) when he got his second detention for being late to classes. His teachers would say he was too sociable in the halls. That would be classic Charlie. So, for a few days I'd wait outside each of his classes and walk behind him to his next class. I know, embarrassing, but it worked. Make no mistake, it was embarrassing for me as well. I'd have to take the day off from work, explain and ask permission from the shcool as well as the teachers. That wasn't easy for me.
Actually, last year was the first year that I didn't have to take any matters into my own hands, and his best grades, come to think of it.
I know it sounds like I'm overbearing. However, every single friend that he was getting in trouble with those years are now at the alternative school. I know this, because it's one of my favorite places to sub at. I know each of these kids personally, have since the first grade for most of them, had them spending the nights at my house and I love them. They're not bad kids, they simply didn't have anyone who held them accountable for their actions. There came a time, actually many times, when a child would be in constant trouble, and I would have to tell them when they came over that Charlie could no longer hang out with them until their behavior improved. For some, it did...for some, it didn't. I thank God that Charlie is no longer friends with some of these kids. One nearly died from a knife fight. One will be away for awhile after bringing pot into the high school and punching a cop in the face when he tried to detain him in the hall. So, please don't tell me that I'm an overbearing parent.

After Charlie and I recapped a lot of this, I asked him if he wished I'd been more like his friends moms. He hesitated longer than I'd have liked, little snot. :) But he said that at the time, he'd wished I had been because I'd embarrassed him a lot. But now, looking back...no. Smart kid.

Part Of Life

Strength comes by way of repetition. It may not be enjoyable, but it's needed. Needed sometimes more than others, and when we need it...we really need it.
I know that strength in many things, in many ways, sometimes determines who we are and how we handle what comes our way through this journey of life. When things are sailing smoothly, we may forget how strong we actually are. But we are.

Tears are not a sign of weakness, they help to release the pain we can no longer hold inside. Tears refresh and renew, if we'll let them. Once released, we don't need them anymore. Sometimes they can clear the fog and once again we can see clearly.

Life changes. It can be frightening, it can be uncomfortable, and it can be inevitable. It can also be exciting, it can be challenging, and it can be worth it.

There are roads in life that we have to travel alone, and we have to be strong to take that first step. It's okay to rest, but it's important to keep going.

Fear is the anxiety that comes from not knowing. But once we realize that we are strong enough to do what needs to be done, if we'll see clearly that life changing doesn't mean life ending, and that as long as we have ourselves, we're never alone...fear will have no dominion over us.

Peace and love to you all.

You Again

Sometimes we can block thoughts from our minds...thoughts of people, thoughts of feelings past. And, then...sometimes we can't.
One thing that we can't protect ourselves from are our dreams.
There are people, relationships and laughter that I sometimes find myself remembering, and as soon as I realize it, I will purposely block them, because it never takes me to a good place. Regrets never bring me peace.
Yet, sometimes these memories will find their way into my dreams, and they'll be good dreams. Sometimes better than the actual memory,which isn't really playing fair. In my dreams, the bad doesn't happen. In my dreams, the problems do not arise. In my dreams, it's good...so good.
Then, as dreams do, they end. Once again, though I've tried, and tried hard, to forget, I'll remember.
Once again, I'll remember you.
It's not that I want to, it's not that I try to. In fact, I fight it.
In the daylight, I remember the bad times. In the waking hours I remember the tears, the lies and the desperation that surrounded us. As I go through my daily motions, I remember you holding my hand, and then I'll remember you letting it go. And it still hurts, all of it.

Dreams betray our feelings, or perhaps they give feelings the freedom to simply be. Regardless, I can't afford them. I wish I could erase you. I wish I could erase those years. When I can't...sometimes I wish I could simply erase me. Because without dreams, I'm simply me...a me that will always remember you.

Men...

Last Friday night, my neighbor, Cindy, had one of her Pampered Chef parties. I love Cindy, I don't think there is anyone any genuinely sweeter or kinder than Cindy. Which, is the only reason I can justify my going to her Pampered Chef parties, since I do not cook, and still I've never left without spending under $70 ~ $80. Just the way of the world. But, Mark loves everything I've bought and we do use everything that's been purchased.
I'm off track...again.
At Cindy's party, there was a woman talking about a work out regime she does called T-Tapp. Most of the women at the party were members at 24 Hour Fitness, except for the woman who does T-Tapp. This lady had great arms and she was demonstrating one of the exercises she said she had seen improve her upper arms greatly. Well, women love to have great upper arms, not so much muscular, but fit and structured. Someone asked her to show a few other T-Tapp exercises and she did. One was called a HoeDown...sort of like the country dance...lifting knees high in different directions while you move back and forth as going in and out of a circle. She said she'd seen quick toning in her hip to upper thigh area since doing this exercise.
I, always curious, got on-line and watched some of the videos from the T-Tapp website, to make sure I remembered the moves correctly. Well, the one for the arms irritated my shoulder, so took it easy on it, however the hoedown was kind of fun and new to me from anything else I do. This morning...my left hip is pulled way to the left and I can barely move my leg. I did not over do it, it was my first time trying this and I know better. But man, pain. And here I was trying to really take it easy on my shoulder, lol. I've got this shooting pain from the left side of my lower back, into my hip and down to my knee.
As I was walking Mark out this morning (yeah, takes more than excruciating pain to keep me from walking my guy to his truck in the mornings, lol) I was explaining to him about the 'hoedown' exercise and why I was walking like one of the living dead and he starts laughing. At the time, I'm thinking...okay, he's been more sensitive. When he turns to look at me and saw the "I wish I had something to hit you upside your head" look on my face, Mark raises his arm up and starts waving his hand at our sleeping neighbors, saying "did you have to start yelling 'Ho' down, help...ho' down!!"? He was still laughing as he drove off down the road without a kiss goodbye.

A Small Mistake

If y'all actually read this boring, day to day life of mine, you may remember that we recently bought Charlie a new guitar ($800, expensive for us for a non-birthday or Christmas gift) because his old one broke and was no longer under warranty. Found out this past week that the guitar was, in fact, still under warranty. So, we're taking it up today for repair or replacement. I'd went to file the receipt for the new one and found the warranty for the old one. Yes, I had looked there before (*Katy*), but apparently not good enough. I was a little hesitant about telling Marko, but he wasn't bothered at all and said that he was glad we'd got him the new one. I don't know how I got this guy, but I love him.
So, I've slept in late today and now we're on our way to Guitar Center and grab some lunch (I'm thinking Pei Wei :) ). Be back and blog at y'all later.

Q & A

Got this from Dzer

1. How tall are you barefoot? 5'4" ish
2. Favorite movies? A Knights Tale, Four Brothers, Pride and Prejudice
3. Do you own a gun? Antiques passed down, and down and down.
4. Who is your biggest enemy? Who? No one. What? Fear.
5. Favorite Scent? Candles, Yankee Candle's 'Christmas Cookie'. Perfume, Jadore.
6. Do you like hot dogs? No
7. What's your favorite Christmas song? I'll Be Home For Christmas
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Water
9. Do you do push-ups? Only to push myself outta bed or off the couch.
10. Brothers or sisters? One sister, 18 months younger than myself.
11. What’s your most liked piece of jewelry? My wedding band
12. What do you take for pain relief? Depending on the pain, 600 mg. of Motrin or Vicodin
13. What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex? Not being available. :)
14. Do you own a knife? Many. Carry 2 on me at all times and several at home. Most are very old, but I keep them in excellent condition. One of the things I enjoy collecting.
15. Do you have A.D.D.? No
16. Middle name? Francis
17. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment. Bed, what to do this weekend, laundry
18. Name the last 3 things you have bought. groceries, lunch, postage
19. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink.Water, Diet Pepsi, more water.
20. What time did you wake up today? 5 a.m.
21. Current worry? None
22. Current hate? Sound of the phone ringing or someone knocking on the door.
23. Your favorite place to be? Outside
24. Least favorite place to be? Shopping
25. Where would you like to go? Caribbean cruise
26. Do you own slippers? Yes, but I have no idea where they are.
27. What shirt are you wearing? Big Dog's 'MoM' night shirt
28. Do you burn or tan? Tan
29. Least favorite color? Pink
30. Would you be a pirate? No, I don't like getting dirty unless I know there's a good shower waiting for me.
31. Last time you had an alcoholic drink? Uhhhmmmm, two or three weeks ago.
32. What songs do you sing in the shower? Usually make up my own songs.
33. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a child? Someone with a machete. Yeah, welcome to my world. :)
34. What's in your pockets right now? No pockets
35. Last thing that made you laugh? My kids
36. Best bed sheets you had as a child? I don't remember
37. Worst injury you've ever had? C sections surgeries
38. What is your favorite pet? Porter, our chocolate lab
39. How many TVs do you have in your house? 6
*we have 4 bedrooms, each with a t.v. (guest room has a tiny t.v.) one in the family room and one in the kitchen.
40. Who is your loudest friend? Mac
41. Who is your most silent friend? Terri
42. Does someone have a crush on you? Does my husband count?
43. Do you wish on stars? No
44. What is your favorite book? Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series (Always makes me laugh)
45. What is your favorite candy? Chocolate covered Paydays...can't remember what they're called. Been awhile, but still my favorite.
46. What song do/did you want played at your wedding? Didn't have one, kind of a quickie wedding in a judges chamber, downtown Dallas.
47. What song do you want played at your funeral? I do not want a funeral (donating body as a cadaver), but if they party in celebration of my life, hook my ipod up to some speakers.
48. What were you doing at 12 a.m. last night? Watching "The Hills Have Eyes"
49. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? "I can't do this"
50. Do you have a favorite charity? Two: Anysoldier.com and The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society

Lessons Learned The Hard Way

Last night Casey had gone to play some beach volley ball. The next time I saw him, he collapsed on the living room floor in front of me, whispering something about "Charlie's tunnel of death". I couldn't tell if he was sick or just playing. I went outside to see what 'Charlie's tunnel of death' actually was, and Charlie was in one of our neighbors yard with our neighbors and their little boy, who is about 7. Our neighbors are in their mid 20's and we all get along great (which translates to we speak but don't actually knock on each others doors). Steven (my neighbor) had hung a tire in a tree and Charlie was pushing Stevens little boy in it, to where it was going in circles. When they saw me, they all started laughing and asked how Casey was. So...that's what had happened to Casey, huh?
Casey suffers from motion sickness, like I do, but not quite to the degree that I do. I can sometimes get nauseous if I'm in the passenger seat of a car and we go over a speed bump. Casey isn't this queasy, but still gets motion sickness, and he should know this by now. When I came in, I asked him why he'd let them turn him in circles when he knew he got motion sickness easily. Casey said he hadn't remembered that he did. Well, after laying on the floor for about 40 minutes, then throwing up in a couple of different rooms, I wonder if he'll remember it next time. Funny how Mark and I both remembered that Casey would get motion sickness pretty easily, but then again, we've always been the ones cleaning up his 'mess'. Last night Casey cleaned up his own mess when his aim for the trash can was a little bit off. Casey couldn't believe I made him clean it up either, but I'm thinking he may remember next time that he does, indeed, get motion sickness.
This had me thinking about how many lessons we have to learn the hard way.
I've learned the hard way that I can not drink on an empty stomach, as Mark once had to carry me out of a ladies bathroom at Chili's. I've learned the hard way that I can not drink while I'm taking prescription pain medication (ex: vicodin) and that a migrane is much worse while throwing up. I've learned the hard way that when I'm the only one yelling, that I may be over reacting. I've learned the hard way that it isn't enough to merely ask Charlie if he has his cell phone on him, but that I also need to ask if it's turned on.

So, just curious, what have you had to learn the hard way?

Last Of The School Pictures

Since kindergarten, there is one day each school year that the kids get to show their individualism and parents pay for it...whether they like it or not. Picture day. Now, I'll give you that there are those rare kids who never take a bad picture. I didn't have those kids. And until the kids are old enough, or secure enough, to realize that their picture just flat out sucked, we ooohhhh and awwwww every year when they bring home the picture package and write out a check to show our kids how adorable we think they are. Doesn't matter if one eye was partially shut, or if they were caught in the middle of a smile and it came out looking like they were snarling at the photographer. We buy them and display them until we take our own better picture and can replace that years school picture with out hurting our child's feelings.

Yesterday, all of that changed for me. Yesterday was Casey's senior picture day. The last time he'll ever have his school pictures taken. If you've not had a kid graduate high school yet, let me warn you, plan the day around it. We were there for 3 hours and 20 minutes, and we got out much quicker than most. Seriously.
Now, my friend, Katy, went through this this past year with her son, Andrew. She sent me three pictures of three of the poses (in different outfits) they'd purchased as part of his senior picture package. I've known this snot nosed kid since grade school, and can not believe what a wonderful, yet still snot nosed, young man he's grown into. She went through her experience with me and gave me some insight as to the cost of this momentous occasion, the last of her son's school pictures.
Apparently, they do it differently in Ohio (that God forsaken state that Katy's husband moved her away from me to), as she told me they would show her pictures on the screen at the studio and let her choose, there, her favorites. Not so here.
There were kids who showed up, mostly with a parent in tow, with up to a dozen different outfits, and after a few pictures were taken in one, they'd change and have more taken, change again...and so on. Kids who were in sports would have their game clothes on, kids in band came with their instruments...so on and so on.
Casey wore street clothes in and took his best suit. This was his first tailor made suit, and we bought it for a special occasion, that holds great memories for both him and us. He's worn it a few times, and it does look great on him. Anyway, I digress. We get the football team and individual photo's each year, so we didn't choose to have him change into his football uniform. Besides, he won't have his football uniform with his number (which has been #54 for the past 5 years) on it till football season, and to have his picture taken with his workout pads didn't mean much to us. So, we went with the suit. The studio has tux's and 'shawls' provided that the school requires for the yearbook, so that all guys and gals are wearing the same thing in the senior year book photos. They take pictures in several settings, with different lights, backgrounds, etc, etc.... In all, geeze, at least a 100 pictures.

Casey has been growing out a goatee for the summer, and it looked GOOD. But they told us that the school requires that all guys be clean shaven for the year book photo. So, while he changed into his suit, I went out to buy a razor and shaving cream. We told them we wanted all his pictures taken with his facial hair and then he'd shave for his year book photo as his last picture and they agreed. Many of the young men and parents heard us, so they requested the same. A lot of senior boys are going through this 'rite of passage' into manhood over summer break, it would appear.
One thing that bothered me, to no end, was when the kids would smile and the photographer would tell them to close their mouths and smile...no teeth. Why?? I'd talk to the parents, and they didn't like it, but they were keeping quiet. One girl, who didn't come with a parent, but by herself, had on pink braces (like Charlie) and she was so adorable. She'd laugh and have the best smile, yet each time the photographer would tell her to close her mouth and smile.
Katy had told me that her pictures had cost them upward over a thousand bucks. For that sort of money, I don't want pictures that look like a stranger I've never known. When it was Casey's turn, and he smiled that great big ole' grin, and the photographer told him to close his mouth, I, not too loudly, told the photographer to, please, not tell him to close his mouth. I told him that I didn't recognize the kid that he was trying to take pictures of...that I wanted pictures of my child like I knew him. Smiling, laughing, happy. This is when Casey and I began to have fun. Many of Casey's friends were there, and we were all laughing, Casey began posing, did a few Zoolander imitations, and the shoot took on a whole life of it's own. Other parents started telling their kids to smile, and those pictures of kids with their hands folded and their heads tilted to an unnatural angle, flew right out the window.
When all the fun shots were done, Casey went to shave and put his tux on. When he came out to have his year book shot taken, well...it took my breath away. I'll never forget it. He was so handsome, so confident, so grown up.
His very last school picture was taken and, regardless of what it will cost us, it is something that will not only be worth keeping for the rest of our lives, but something worth remembering for Casey and I.

Charlies First Mosh Pit

*Please read note at end of post...
The guys went to Edgefest on Sunday. There were about 20 rock bands (Seether, Frogger, Buck cherry...I've never heard of any of these, but all 3 of my guys were hyped to see them). Even though Mark got tickets the day they came out, I guess they had some lousy seats so Mark slipped someone some bucks and got 3 wristbands for the stage floor.
This is pretty much where Mark lost Charlie.
Mark called me around 8 p.m. and tries to casually ask if I've heard from Charlie. WHAT???
He called back about 40 minutes later to let me know that he'd found him, talked to him and instructed him to check back with him after every set.
Well, that's good for something, I suppose. I know, if it were me I'd have those little kiddie leashes on them. Embarrassing, but true.
So, Charlie got to finally be in his first mosh pit. He said that somehow, the crowd just sort of parted for him and he got to be in the very center of the first row behind the rope, nose to nose with security. "So cool, it was awesome". Yeah...I can remember enjoying that at a concert, and I probably was about his age. However, I remember what I was doing at that age...at the concerts...and so, I tend to worry. But, thank God, Charlie isn't me. A lot like me, but not me.
He said the security kept spraying him with water, as well as pouring water in his mouth. It was outside, in Texas summer heat, after all. He said he stood there, in the same spot, for three hours...until he had to go to the bathroom. When he came back, the crowd didn't part for him, again. LOL. He danced and head banged in the pit till he said some huge guy came up and sort of butted him and pushed him way too hard and he said that was it, he'd had enough. Found a good standing place and stayed.
Yeah, he said there were people getting high around him, and even though they were passing joints back and forth, no one offered him any. He said that he'd thought about what to say, in case they did, but they didn't. He said he was going to say "Naw, I don't smoke" and just passed it for them, but it never came to that.
Mark...what were you thinking?? I don't even want him passing it for someone, regardless if many years ago, it'd been me someone was passing it to...or for. Shut up.
But I'm proud of this kid. Charlie said that the singer of one band, Staind, stopped once and yelled at the crowd to quit pulling girls shirts up or off. Charlie said he gave a small lecture to how uncool that was and to stop it or he'd have security throw anyone they saw doing it out. He thought that was pretty cool that the guy did that, that he'd never seen anyone do that at a concert before, and he's been to a few (System of a Down, Rush...a few). So, I was proud of Charlie that he thought what the singer did was a good thing. I asked him if he saw any women flashing and he grinned and said, "I saw some stuff, Mom".
My boys, all growing up. They got home around midnight and Charlie said it was great. Charlie said he loved all the bands (they all said that) and he'll never, ever forget his first mosh pit.

Yeah, well, I'll never forget Mark calling me, asking if I've heard from Charlie...telling me not to worry, that if he were to end up in emergency that someone would surely call one of us. Besides, it was just a small crowd of say...30,000 people.

*Note: Casey just told me about the knot on the side of his head that he got in the mosh pit. He said he butted heads with the big guy that had made Charlie decide to stay out of the mosh pit. Casey, apparently, enjoyed the pit and got in it several times. Who in the world would ever had thought Casey... And, where was Mark??

Another Fine Mess...

*Please read note at end before commenting...some of you are such goofballs, LOL.
Friday I colored my hair...again. I wanted to go to a darker blonde...yeah, well...I want a lot of things.
I suppose since my hair is so light with all the coloring I do to keep it that way, it's very dense and the color just doesn't take right...and it came out like a mix between brown and grayish blonde. I know this is boring, but stay with me.
Mark and Charlie told me they liked it, I've been platinum blonde for so long (about 7 years) that it was gonna take some getting use to. I picked Casey up from his youth group getaway to Alabama around midnight that night, Friday. He told me right off he didn't like it. I said, well, I wasn't crazy about it either but that Mark and Charlie liked it and Casey tells me "They don't want to hurt your feelings, probably, but I'm telling you the truth".
Saturday, I thought maybe if I put the same color I'd used on Friday, on my hair again, maybe I could get it more like the color I was wanting. Mark came home from work Saturday afternoon to find me coloring my hair...again. He freaked out for just a few seconds and then decided it would be a good time to go work out. :)
Well, after it was done...it was a dark gray...with maybe a few shades of purple here and there. I washed it about 4 times and got some of the purplish hue out, and it may have been a tiny bit lighter, but still gray. Looked a lot like Quincy's fur, a cat I had a couple of years ago.
Okay, I'm really not happy, but Mark is telling me it's okay. That it's growing on him. My neighbor tells me that Mark and I match more now. Thanks Maclyn...appreciate that.
Well, after church today, Mark, Casey and Charlie went to a concert, The Edgefest, in Frisco. I couldn't stand leaving my hair this way, so...yes, I did. I colored it again.
I got a light blonde and colored it again. I know, three times in less than 48 hours. Sad thing is, this isn't the first time I've done this. In fact, it's probably closer to 1/2 a dozen times...conservatively guessing. I don't know how my hair doesn't fall out, but it never has. I started coloring my hair at 16, because I started graying at 16. Completely serious. So, perhaps my scalp is just use to it. Dunno. After leaving it on for the 30 minutes, the dark still wasn't coming out, so I left it on for additional 30 minutes. It was painful. It was about this time that I'm thinking "I truly am an idiot, this would be a good time for a picture". Even I can't follow my thought process.
You know how people put their pictures up on their blog and they go for the best look they can? Some do the make up, the hair...some just get naked. Well, a lot of people have asked me why I never put pictures up of myself. I am the most camera shy person in the world. Always have been and I doubt I'll ever change. But, if I were to ever put an accurate picture of the real me, it would be me doing something stupid and ridiculous, something totally in character...so, I decided to put a picture up of me going through my third attempt at coloring my hair. I don't do makeup unless I'm getting 'gussied' (lol, yeah I'm a Hoosier transplanted in Texas) so this, folks, is the real me. In a mess again:
In case you're wondering, it came out a lighter blondish gray color. Happy? No, but I'm not doing anything else till my scalp is completely healed. I know, I've said that before. :)

Whatever a Dosha is, mine is a Kapha

Your Dosha is Kapha

Calm and grounded, you are not prone to mood swings or anger. However, once you do get angry, it takes a lot to cool you down. You tend to think a little slower than most people, but your logic is astounding. Overall, you very loyal and trustworthy. You're not scared of being who you really are. With friends: You enjoy their company, but often listen more than talk In love: You crave connection and affection. It's hard for you to be single. To achieve more balance: Exercise vigorously (especially in the sun) and let go of attachments.

What's Your Dosha?

I got this from Leesa. It's not 100% accurate...but it's more accurate than not. :)

Charlie's Video

If you've got about four minutes on your hands and enjoy Anthrax's Caught In A Mosh, you might want to check out Charlie's blog. I put up a video of him playing his new guitar. Yeah, don't bother telling me how poor my camera skills were, it's already been brought to my attention. I don't know what I did wrong, never looked like that before. Anyway...pay him a visit if you'd like.
OH ~ and thanks, deb , for helping me get the video up and for all your encouragement to Charlie, it really meant a lot to him. You mean a lot to both of us.

Lessons, Painful...But Worth Learning

I understand that not everyone that reads my blog is a believer, but I've got to post this today as it is related to yesterdays post...and a post from a few days ago.

I'd posted about a friend hurting me. I'm not a 'friendly' person ( and don't waste time telling me that you can't believe it, because, TRUST me, it's true). I don't have enough friends to where I can lose one and it not hurt. But, when this all took place with my friend, my heart hardened. That isn't a good thing. A hardened heart will destroy your spirit without your understanding what's wrong.
A few of my posts were negative, angry. Most of you asked about it, some of you emailed me about it. I thought that I was okay, and that's what I told all of you. I couldn't understand why I felt angry. I began praying about it a few days ago, and God had been waiting on me to turn to Him because in a few seconds flat, the Holy Spirit revealed myself to me and it wasn't a pretty sight.
I was carrying a grudge against my friend, I was holding onto anger and the hostility that came with it was stealing my joy. Truly, stealing my joy. This is what prompted the grace and mercy post from yesterday. I had forgotten that lesson that I tried to instill in my boys. When the veil was torn down, after I had prayed about it and God had revealed to me my mistake, it was like a wonderful down pour of refreshing rain after a months and months of hot sun. This is what I was trying to tell in yesterdays post, that I needed to apologize to my friend for holding her mistake against her. We are all human. We all err. We all put ourselves before others sometimes and sometimes we don't realize how it might hurt someone.
This morning I walked out my front door and there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a card from my friend. I didn't open the card, but took them all next door to my friends house and told her how sorry I was that I'd hardened my heart against her. That I loved her and I forgave her and asked her to forgive me. Then I opened the card in front of her. It was a precious heartfelt apology. We cried together and we healed.
If my friend had brought over the flowers and card last week, or anytime before my praying and before God's Holy Spirit had revealed the error of my ways, I'd not been receptive to her apology.
God's timing is PERFECT. This was a lesson I needed to learn. And, regardless of how painful it was for me to learn it...it was something that has taught me something. Actually, taught both my friend and myself an important lesson.
That's it. Love you all. Thanks for bearing with me and loving me. You are all precious to me.

Mercy, Mercy Me

While the boys were young enough for Easter baskets, we'd fill them up with the usual stuff like candy and toys. But we'd also put those plastic pull apart eggs in them with slips of paper inside. On each slip was written something different; stay up late one night, snack, movie, foot rub, and mercy or grace. Grace could be used as a total forgiveness, or a 'get out of trouble completely' card and mercy as we'd show mercy on them or a 'much lighter and reduced punishment' card. We didn't do the Easter Bunny, but still wanted to celebrate the sacrifice God made for us, as well as Christ's love for us. We wanted to teach the kids about God's grace and mercy. As they got too old for Easter baskets, we'd still give them the eggs with their slips of paper in them.
Now, most years, Charlie would have his grace and mercy slip used by the end of the day. And, that's okay. Casey would save his for the big things. He'd wait so long, taking his small punishments without using them to where we'd forget all about them, and then when he'd make that really huge mistake months after Easter, he'd pull out that grace or mercy slip, depending on the severity of the punishment. Every single year when one of those slips came out, we'd nearly want to say "NO WAY", but every year those slips became as big a lesson for us as they did for him.
I remember one year, maybe when Casey was 13 and Charlie 12, we were leaving a Main Event in the middle of a very hot summer and Casey had lost to Charlie in front of his friends at laser tag. This put Casey in a really bad mood. In the parking lot, Charlie just kept teasing Casey about it and Casey threw a punch. Well, it was on. In the parking lot of Main Event with all their friends and their parents getting into their cars around us. Now, I can count the number of times the boys have fought each other on one hand...and for two boys that close in age, that's not bad. But I yelled at them to break it up, saw Casey whaling away on Charlie (though Charlie was getting his punches in too) and I stepped in the middle of them trying to break them up. At that time, Casey was taller than me and Charlie not quite. When I tried to push them apart, I caught a punch intended for Charlie, right in the eye. The realization that I'd been hit is what stopped the fight.
Now, I was seriously injured. I had a swollen and very black eye. Neither one of them had a mark on them, go figure. Anyway, yeah...I was mad. They got in the car, and no one said a word all the way home. Oh, Casey was sorry. But he was also still angry and he was a 13 year old boy with all that changing going on in his freakishly tall body. So, his 'sorry' was more like "I didn't mean to hit you". When we got home he went straight to his room and didn't come down until after Mark had came home from work, saw my eye and we discussed what had happened. Mark doesn't get mad often, but this was one of those times he did. We finally called Casey down from his room and we told him he was grounded from tv, radio, video games, or going out side to play with his friends for the rest of the summer. Something like a month, I think. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the mercy slip of paper. He said that he didn't want to walk away scott free from what he'd done so he was using the mercy slip. Mark and I both wanted to say "NO WAY", that he deserved to get the full punishment for what he'd done, but...we had to honor that slip of paper. We had to learn that lesson of mercy, as well as Casey did.

I know this post is getting long, and I'm sorry. Even though I spent most of it telling you about how we tried to teach our kids the importance of God's grace and mercy to us, all of us, what I wanted to say most was that I'd forgotten that importance lately. I like to think I'm a pretty good 'Christian' example, but in reality, lately I've not been. Through prayer and conviction of the Holy Spirit (and for those of you who are not sure what I'm talking about, just suffice to say it ain't pretty) and with ~deb bringing it home, I realized that I've not showed mercy to a friend of mine who recently did me wrong. It was revealed to me that I can't pick and choose whom I show God's grace and mercy to, just as He doesn't pick and choose whom He shows it to. It's a gift given to all of us and we're to, in turn, show it to others. It's easier to show someone mercy when their transgression is not against you personally. This is what I have learned. I'm not a quick study, apparently, but I do learn eventually.
So, to the friend that I have hardened my heart to, I will now apologize and ask them for their forgiveness. I love them, as God has loved me through all my many mistakes, and I will continue to love them as He continues to love me.

*Note: To those who also read my worship blog, this is the same post there today.

Day One

Okay, already, I'm sorry for all the tests on the last post. I was up late and got carried away. Seriously, though, this is my favorite thing about my job, not working in the summer. I get to keep kid hours, and I take way too much advantage of it.
This week Casey is at his youth retreat on the gulf in Alabama. I hope he is having the best time and making some wonderful memories. That leaves Charlie and I on our own. As sad as it is true, that leaves Charlie and I without much adult supervision and little voice of reason. Mark and Casey are the adults in this family and Charlie and I are, well...not so much.
Yesterday was our first day with it being just the two of us. We took Porter, our chocolate lab, into Petsmart to get his nails clipped and opted for the whole 9 yards of bath, clipping his nails, brushing his teeth and the breath spray (why, don't know cause that dog's kisses are the absolute best...no breath problems) and whatever else comes with the $50 package. This gave Charlie and I 3 hours to kill. We decided to try one of the restaurants that Tom S had suggested to me, and I did even call to get directions Tom, but we passed by a Pei Wei and well...we do love Pei Wei. Sorry Tom, maybe today we can stay more focused. Anyway, we had a really good lunch. We both love our food so spicy that we have to eat through our tears, so when we ask for 3x spicy, they know us there and go that extra mile for us.
When we're leaving Pei Wei, I asked Charlie if he'd like to go to Guitar Center and look over the guitars. He said, no, not really...LOL, as if. So, we're on our way to Guitar Center. See, in the back of my mind, I hear an adult voice, but I'm just so good at not listening to it. Okay, for those of you who actually read and pay attention to what I write, you might remember that I'd talked about our considering getting Charlie a new guitar. His favorite that he uses most, his electric (a B.C. Rich Warlock) had had all the strings break off inside from the volume knob and were a jumbled mess. Fine, I have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, but this is as close as I can describe the broken guitar. So, when we're at the guitar store, and Charlie is off looking for his dream guitar, I ask a few of the sales guys about Charlies broken guitar. They tell me that is the main problem always reported with that brand. Well, he's had it about 4 years and it's the first time it's needed repair, it's a year out of warranty and it was a rather cheap guitar (on sale for $200) anyway. They tell me it might be able to be repaired with out costing more than the guitar itself cost, depending on whether it needed a new volume something or other. Yeah, I pay attention. C'mon, it's like a foreign language to me.
Charlie is always researching guitars. He's decided a while ago that he wanted a Jackson Rhoades. Yeah, I don't know either. Anyway, he asked if they had one and they told him they had just gotten the new model in that morning, but they only had one. They showed him the 2005 model that they'd had and it was $299. Charlie was playing on it and I asked the sales guy if he'd bring me the new model that they'd just got in. When Charlie saw the new model, his eyes looked like a 4 year olds on Christmas morning. He started playing it as he and the sales guy talked about all the bells and whistles that it had that the older model didn't. There wasn't a price tag on it yet, as they'd just unpacked it, so the sales guy scanned it for me and when he told me the price, Charlie immediately said, 'Mom, the other one is just fine for me'. I love this kid.

Now I know the general censuses here was that we should let Charlie buy this for himself. Thing is, Charlie has bought his last two guitars for himself without any help from us. The only guitar we ever bought him was his first one about 7 years ago. Mark told me a few nights ago that he wanted to buy Charlie this guitar, that he wanted Charlie to know how proud he was of his talent and that he was behind him 100% in his music. Well, if you knew Mark, you'd know how big this is. Marks always been a big fan of Casey, mostly because of how involved Casey is in athletics. Casey was great in Tae Kwon Do, and has played football since he was about 6 and he's very good. Charlie...didn't like Tae Kwon Do, played football at 6, didn't like it. Tried that baseball for little kids (what's it called?), didn't like it. Tried hockey for 2 years, never really liked it. Went back to football for 2 years, hated it. Tried wrestling this year, and just never really enjoyed it. Thing is, he's good at it all, but just didn't enjoy it. So, this bothered us because it always seemed he had so much talent, but just refused to enjoy it. I know, we were trying to force it on him. So, don't bother telling me, okay? Mark caught on faster than I did and this next year (sophomore year) for Charlie will be the first year since he was 4 years old that we're not forcing him into a sport. But he's always loved music. In spite of our trying to lead him in a different direction, he's stayed his course. And, in spite of his parents, he's really good. So, for Mark to get behind him, and want to support him, is huge. I've always supported his music, and been a fan of his talent, but I just also wanted to keep him in sports. There are scholarships there, people!!

Back to the Guitar Center. So, long story short, we walked out with the brand new model and Charlie still can't believe it. He's played nearly every song he knows on it, tried it with every distortion pedal he owns and has had his amp up loud enough to make the glasses in my cabinets rattle. Good times.

Charlie and I tend to stay up till around 3 a.m., which makes it hard for me to get up at 5 and see Mark off to work, but then I'm back in bed till around noon. I do love working for the school district.

Yeah, Whatever...

You Play it Cool

You're not in your face, smokin' hot... and it's all by design You have a carefully crafted cool persona, leaving everyone wanting to know just a little more.

Are You Hot?

Mmmmm, I dunno...

You Are 60% Weird

You're so weird, you think you're *totally* normal. Right? But you wig out even the biggest of circus freaks!

How Weird Are You?

Yeah, I can agree with this one.

Your Blogging Type is Unique and Avant Garde

You're a bit ... unusual. And so is your blog. You're impulsive, and you'll often post the first thing that pops in your head. Completely uncensored, you blog tends to shock... even though that's not your intent. You tend to change your blog often, experimenting with new designs and content.

What's Your Blogging Personality?

I dunno, maybe some.

Your Linguistic Profile::

65% General American English

10% Dixie

5% Midwestern

5% Upper Midwestern

5% Yankee

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Pretty much, yup.

Your Scholastic Strength Is Evaluating

You are great at looking at many details and putting them all together. You are talented at detecting subtle trends, accuracy, and managing change. You should major in: Statistics Speech Conflict studies Communication Finance Medicine

What Should You Major In?

On a good day, maybe.

You Are a Boxer Puppy

Energetic, playful and good with kids. You've also got a wild spirit that can't be trained or tamed.

What Breed of Puppy Are You?

Can't stand kids, but other than that...absolutely.

You Are The Stuffing

You're complicated and complex, yet all your pieces fit together. People miss you if you're gone - but they're not sure why.

What Part of Thanksgiving Are You?

I've actually heard most of this before.

You Are 84% Happy

It's unlikely that you know anyone happier than you. You know how to be happy, no matter what life throws at you.

How Happy Are You?

TRUE

American Cities That Best Fit You::

75% Atlanta

70% Honolulu

60% Austin

60% Las Vegas

55% Chicago

Which American Cities Best Fit You?

100% true.

Your Personality Is Like Cocaine

You're dynamic, brilliant, and alluring to those who don't know you. Hyper and full of energy, you're usually the last one to leave a party. Sometimes your sharp mind gets the better of you... you're a bit paranoid!

What Drug Is Your Personality Like?

Other than the part about being paranoid...pretty much true.

You Are Wind

Strong and overpowering A force to be reckoned with, no one dares cross you You have the power to change everything around you You are best known for: your wrath Your dominant state: commanding

What Type of Weather Are You?

Sad, but probably true.

Warning: Female May Be Having A Hot Flash

How is it I can go to Wal-mart to buy some new Rubbermaid containers and walk out $173.00 poorer? I hate Wal-mart. I honestly believe you should have a list when you walk in, and they assign you a personal assistant that will tazer you should you stray from the list.
Really, I'd rather be seen flip flopping around on the floor like a fish out of water than to walk out of Wal-mart with sacks upon sacks of spur of the moment purchases.

How is it my thermostat is set 0n 65 degrees, but it's reading at 78 degrees in my home? My air is constantly running, everything is in good working order and all filters are clean. I'm in Texas and the average temperature is running aroung 101 degrees outside. I'm not comfortable. Seriously. I know 78 isn't that hot, but I need to be cooler...and if I put on any less clothes, my kids are going to have to walk around blindfolded.

Casey's iPod broke last week. The Apple store said that the hard drive is broken. Apparently, this happens. It's may be 3 years old, and is the U2 Special Edition. This blows me away, but he's selling it on ebay. He showed me where a lot of them are being sold around $70 and up. His is at $40 right now with 3 bids and still has a little over a couple days yet to go. Who'd thought? I've put accurate pictures up of it and clearly stated about 3 times that it is broken and that the Apple store thought it was the hard drive. Casey went back on ebay and said 'sold as is'...just to be sure.

Charlie's favorite guitar is broken, too. What's with this house lately? He said that it can't be repaired, that all the strings on the inside are wrapped and broken (whatever that means) and it broke off from the volume something or other (yeah, I pay attention). So, he's wanting a new guitar. He's got about 1/4 of the price of the new one he wants. Should I loan him the money or make him wait till he saves it all (or at least more). He's really good at paying us back and he works hard around here for his allowance. We know his music is important to him, but he won't take the broken one in to see if it can be repaired. I sort of feel that if he just wants a guitar to play, he should see if it could be repaired and save for a new one.

I had this dream about Mark last night, early this morning, to where I was so angry at him, that I was yelling and pushing him around. In life, this has never happened, but I woke up so mad at him that I could barely look at him. I can't remember the dream completely, but it had something to do with his telling the boys they couldn't have something and instead he bought himself something huge and ridiculous. No, I don't remember what. But anyway, I was furious with him right up until the time I walked him out to his truck this morning. I even shorted his to-go coffee sugar and cream on purpose. How bad is that? How can I get so mad at a silly dream?

Our city has the water shortage laws into effect and we're only allowed to water our yard with sprinklers once a week, on the day our trash is picked up. A couple of houses on our street have already been ticketed. This really ticks me off. I've spent a lot of money and time on my yard and it's drying and dying. You can use the yard hose by hand to water plants and animals, that's it. How do I know that people aren't using my yard water by taking 4 or 5 extra showers a day, or letting their toilets run without caring? What are my legal rights here, anyone know?

Seriously, I'm dying here. I'm hot and irritable. Maybe I'm having hot flashes on top of the heating spell going on here. And, how fair is that? Why can't men have the hot flashes instead, at least they could run around in their shorts and shirtless without being arrested...or shunned by the neighbors.

Please Don't Use Me

I can be a good friend. I'll laugh with you, I'll cry with you, I'll protect you to my last breath, but I'll not be used. When it gets to the point that each phone call you make to me has an ulterior motive...quit calling me. When I see that it's you calling on the caller i.d., I now answer the phone saying 'hey, what can I do for you?' You will laugh every time asking 'can't I just call to see how you're doing?'. You could, but you don't. By the end of each call, why you've called is revealed and I can finally quit wondering what you need and hang up. A friend should always be there to help you when you need it, but they shouldn't be there to live your life for you. If you honestly need so much, you've got too much on your plate...bitten off more than you can chew...can I put it any plainer? You're being selfish. Give something up so that I don't have to give something up to take care of your responsibilities.

If you can't afford to go somewhere, don't go. Don't wait until we're there, or on our way, to ask if you can borrow the money. I've got kids who I'd rather spend the money on. Don't tell me you'll pay me back or that you'll pay me back next time you're paid because we both know how true that is.

Don't tell me that I don't understand how hard it is for you. Please. It's an insult to insinuate that I'm where I am today without having gone through hard times. Don't tell me that I know you love me. I don't believe you can love someone without respecting them. Face it, using someone so that you can continue to live the 'good life' without being responsible for any of it is not showing anyone you're using respect.

Today, I'm telling you this as a friend. Tomorrow...I may just be telling you this, period.

Is That Too Much To Ask?

There are times and places that I've just got to refrain myself...because I really don't think I'd bode well in jail. I don't play well with others, and I'm not very good at following directions.

Here are a few of my problems with others:

I understand that it's each persons right to smoke. I choose not to, and I choose not to have my children or myself around it. For one thing, it triggers migraines for me and for another, the smell is just damn hard to get rid of. So why is it when people smoke, they keep it extended out of their own confined space, therefore spreading it into mine? I pull up to a stop light and there is a car around me where the occupants are smoking. Do they keep it in their car with the windows rolled up? No. The windows are down with the cigarette extended outside the car. Regardless if my windows are rolled up or not, it's in my car. Same thing with my home. My neighbors smoke, but only outside their home. I understand it's hard to get the smell out of your curtains and furniture...because it's now in mine every time I open my windows for fresh air. And for God's sake, can you please keep your nasty ole' butts out of my yard, is that too much to ask?

I'm not picky with my music. I'll listen to just about anything. I've even found a song or two of country that is iPod worthy. But, do I have to listen to yours? I fully understand it being a great day outside and wanting to have the windows down while you're driving and your music blaring...it's a great part of life. We all deserve that. But when you're parked, say in a grocery lot or across the street from my house, would you mind either rolling your windows up or turning it down enough where it's for your listening pleasure? Seriously, is that too much to ask?

We are all different, thank God. Otherwise, what a boring place if everyone was like me. Boring and unfriendly, but that's another post. So, I appreciate differences. I appreciate different intellects, different opinions, different languages. I appreciate them and I respect them. So, please do not force yours on me. If everyones was the same as yours, face it, you'd still find something to force down my throat. Whether it was that my favorite color was blue while yours was red (am I an idiot? How could I possibly like blue instead of red?) or that I'm republican while you're simply irresponsible, no wait, I mean democrat...yeah, that's what I meant. We learn from each other, not just from you. God didn't clone Adam and Eve, He enabled them to come together to produce someone unique and worthy in their own right. Try learning instead of constantly teaching, please...is that too much to ask?

If you have something you honestly know in your heart that you can't take care of, find whatever it is a good home where it can grow, be loved, be protected and be given the basics that every living thing deserves. I don't care whether it's a child, an animal or a house plant. If you can't (or won't) care for it, please put your selfishness aside and admit that you're not in a place where you can provide for it. Every living thing deserves a chance to be loved, deserves the chance to live and grow daily without being starved for food or affection, without being neglected. Life of every sort deserves to be respected...is that too much to ask?

If you're wrong, admit it. There's no reason to get angry at the person who was right, simply because they were right. Why is it so hard for someone to say "Wow, I got that all wrong, sorry"? Does it take away your strength somehow? Does it make you seem less intelligent to admit a mistake? When the error is already revealed, does getting angry and treating someone poorly somehow make you more right? It's human to make mistakes...big ones, small ones and my kind; stupid ones. Admitting it doesn't make the matter worse, but it will earn you more respect. If you're wrong, own up to it...is that too much to ask?

Thrill of the Grill - A Johnny Style Adventure

*note: This is, without a doubt, one of the best posts I've never written. Thanks, Tom, Viking Actor, for writing it. Laughed till I cried.

Gravity is a harsh mistress…

I was called upon by our Johnny Style for a small uneventful errand. He needed a hand picking up a grill and some accessories from a friend’s house to bring to his own house out in the Jersey suburbs. I was called upon for my skill and stunning good looks, natch.

How we moving all this stuff?
I got a truck.
You rented a truck?
No, I got the bosses truck.
He lent it to you?
I got the bosses truck.
Does he know you have his prized truck?
I’ll be by the gym in half an hour.

TIP: We call this foreshadowing, folks.

I come down from the gym to discover what can only be described as a phallic moon rover of a vehicle. It had like seventeen wheels and thirty six doors with a million gadgets and thingys and blipity blips. It sat levitating on 67th street, the airlock opened with a hiss and a belch of pressurized atmosphere escaped. The paint was pristine, the chrome was pristine, the interior was pristine and the sound system was incredible. The thing was immaculate. This wasn’t a truck, this was the penis men wished they had.

I drive a Neon, by the way. Four cylinder. 132 horses. Yup…. …..

With the stereo a-pumping, we drove deep into mid afternoon Manhattan traffic to Brooklyn in the comfort of the Death Star. I couldn’t feel a bump, hear a sound outside or see anything for at least twenty five feet directly in front of us. Johnny screamed over the music, “Great, huh?” I just smiled and nodded wondering if my fillings would vibrate out of my teeth.

ITEM: Johnny Style is not the smoothest of drivers. It’s like he’s playing a bass drum solo with both feet alternating between the brake and accelerator pedal. Shaken, definitely not stirred. The ride could be described as vomit-inducing, life changing, altering my sperm count and even as a catalyst for finding religion – all at less than ten miles per hour.

We took the turn off the highway up the hill to Johnny’s friend’s place about an hour later. That’s the great thing about New York City, it takes an hour to drive fourteen miles in the middle of the day when you’d think every one would be at work. Johnny’s pal moved out and left him the grill and a few other yard items. One of which was one of those assemble it yourself shed-cabinet-storage things. I thought I’d grab that first to make room in the hallway for the grill which had to be hoisted and carried through the house from back yard to front. The house is attached on both sides, you see. Remembering the last time I tried lifting something in Johnny’s presence, I made sure my testes were secure and ready for the jolt. I squatted, held my breath, hugged the cabinet and lifted with all my strength anticipating the heavy load.

We stood there for a few minutes wondering if the real estate people would notice the indent in the ceiling that matched perfectly the shape of the top of the cabinet. Apparently, the cabinet was made out of hollow plastic and lifted off the ground rather easily.

We moseyed back into the house, out to the back yard where I thought we’d find one of those little Hibatchi numbers you get at the hardware store.

ITEM: What’s with men? Why is there a need to show the world how huge our individual penises (penisii?) are by surrounding ourselves with outlandishly garish and un-necessary items like cars that could double as planetoids and barbecue grills that rival Mission Control during NASA’a heyday? I state here for the record, real men, those secure in their own shoes, need no such glittery devices to distract from their short comings for they are confident, walk head up and shoulders squared.

I mentioned I drive a Neon, right?

We found the gas tank under the lower hull and tried to disconnect it from the mammoth underbelly. Johnny, being pulled in by the hypnotic lure of back yard cookouts, keeping up with the Joneses and proving once and for all who has the biggest thingest tried snapping the gas line off with the tip of a screwdriver.

TIP: Sparks plus flammable gas = no eyebrows. Learn it, love it, live it.

I seized the line from Johnny and disconnected it before losing what’s left of my sparse brow. It was at this point I knew I should have brought an extra sack for my nuts. The grill was incredibly heavy. We hauled it across the yard, up the stairs, into the house, across the entire length of the house, out the front door, across the porch, down the 4000 Mayan temple steps, out to the curb and to the back of the overcompensation-mobile. Johnny was huddled over the tail gate huffing and trying to say something. I turned my back on the grill and went over to his aid.

“Huhhh, huhhh, uhhh, heppinhonhieutz…”
What?
"heppingoneyehutz, cough…”
What, are you saying anything I need to understand?
He pulled me down to his level by the collar and wheezed into my ear… "I think…you’re stepping…on my nuts…"
Oh, I thought that was a bean bag left by the dog or something. Oh.
cough

I was just glad my nuts were intact. (I was glad to have it happen to someone else for a change.) While swearing me to secrecy about the whole lift and crawl we heard a strange scraping sound.

What is that?
My nuts rolling back up my leg?
No really what is that? It sounds like…

We both looked at each other with a puzzled expression that slowly turned to confused horror.

The grill …

Is rolling…

Down the hill…

It has wheels?!

It has freaking wheels?!

It has wheels.

Hmh, I can’t believe it has freaking wheels

Yup.

We stood there stunned watching the grill get smaller and smaller in our field of vision. It clattered and clanged and jolted it’s way down Senator street toward the intersection. Somewhere from down the street we heard a female voice yell, “Hey, did you just see a barbecue go by?”

Running at full speed, I started to feel my pulse thunder in my neck as my heart pounded in my chest. The muscles in my legs were burning and tightening up with each step. I didn’t think I’d make it in time. I began gaining ground as we approached the corner. I reached out for the runaway grill extending my fingers. It was then that it all went batty. There was a ping, a sudden stop and my body hitting the grill full force with an ungodly loud bang. Blackness.

ITEM: All this story needs is an old lady pushing a baby carriage at the corner.

I awoke looking out at the cloudy sky looking for a word that rhymes with Klaus Kinski. I was then wondering who Klaus Kinski was. Johnny interrupted my little conversation to tell me I had hit the grill after it had hit a small pothole, tumbled over it about fifty times and together we skidded to a stop next to a fire hydrant. I asked if I could take a nap and if his sister still had those great legs. He informed me that I could not take a nap and he did not have a sister.

After a few minutes we gathered my nuts and several pieces of grill and tossed them into the truck. We had a laugh at the fact that even though we got banged up we didn’t damage his bosses truck. As we pulled away we heard this loud bang. Real loud.

Did you make sure the tailgate was locked?

Well, you know the rest…