Bits and Boobs... er, I mean Bobs

I would do Friday Fragments, but even with help from Mrs. 4444, I don't "get it." It's not her fault, either. I'm sure she explained it in the best possible way, it's just my adult ADD (self-diagnosed in an effort to keep from admitting I'm a squirrel).

I can't wait for the work day to be over. I have been without my Pea-Pie for a week now (he's at his dad's) and am picking him up tonight. Our custody arrangement has him at his dad's 3 weekends a month during school since his dad is out of district and every other week during the summer. I'm glad he gets to spend more time with his other parent than most kids in this situation, but MAN I miss him when he's gone.
And I've been informed that his dad is getting another divorce. Poor fellow. This time it's his idea, though, unlike the first 2. And I don't blame him. I swear, that woman he is married to is one psychotic heifer. I'm not saying that as an ex, either. I mean, by any standard, that woman needs to be committed.

Tomorrow, very early, Pea-Pie and I are headed back to Eureka Springs, Ar. It's Blues Fest weekend and he's begged to go down there during Blues Fest for years now. He loves music and that's fine, but I've been putting it off because for some reason women seem to have a hard time keeping their boobs in their shirts during this particular festival. I wonder, does being a biker make you want to show your boobs or do women who like to show their boobs automatically become bikers? Just a thought. I owned my own motorcyle for a couple of years - never did show my boobs to a stranger over it. I'm just sayin'. So, now that he's 14, I compromised. We are going down early, volunteering for the Blues Fest folks until Noon, visiting my friends at the candle shop and then heading home early. With any luck, it'll be a boob free day.

Saturday afternoon I'm picking up my little sisters, Meg and Leon, doing 4 haircuts and cooking supper. Sissies are staying all night.
Sunday, we're going horseback riding.

I vow that this is the last weekend for at least a few weeks that I will stretch myself so thin. I'm TIRED and my garden needs to be weeded. There are more weeds than veggies and fruits! I'm not even joking. I'm worn out.

And on that note, I'm going to wish all of you a great weekend!! See you Monday!

A Post for the Coiffure Challenged

One of my friends called me last night crying about her "shitty haircut." I asked what happened and she said that she made an appointment, went in early and looked through the salon books, picked out a new style and then got her haircut. It just didn't turn out AT ALL like she wanted...
I was taught long ago that if you want a new hairstyle, you pick out 3 pictures ahead of time then discuss them with your stylist. After I started cutting hair, I realized why that works: People will show you a picture, you can cut their hair EXACTLY like that picture and then they will scream that you shouldn't have/should have layered it/made it shorter/left it longer/blah blah blah. If you have a few different pictures and they show different hairstyles, at least your stylist can talk with you and figure out what it is you REALLY want. I'm sure within these first two paragraphs you have quickly figured out why I'm an EX hairstylist.
I'll leave you with a few examples of why you should know your stylist and exactly what you want:

Who knows what she asked for when she walked in. I bet it wasn't this, judging by the look on her face.



Is she unhappy with the hair or is she emo? I never can tell with kids these days.




Concerning these two: I don't believe for one second that they actually ASKED to have this done, but it doesn't appear that either of them are blind either. So, what would possess them to a)go out in public? and b) let their pictures be taken? Noone knows because you obviously can't just walk up to people and ask them what happened to their hair.

Here is an example of someone who knew what was happening and for some reason sat still long enough for it to take place: I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt and figure it was Halloween:


And last, but not least, the man who knows what he looks like, knows it's not Halloween and walks around in public like this anyway:

Happy Hump Day!

I officially (but barely) made it through yesterday. Did almost pass out when the bank rep was here. Came so close, in fact, that at one point I couldn't understand what he was saying. I just looked at my partner and mirrored his facial expressions...sigh. I feel a million jazillion times better today, though, thank goodness. And the bank rep left happy. whew...


Now, I have to take a little space to talk about one of my very good friends and his new store in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. It's a candle store. So what, right? There are candle stores everywhere. Well let me tell ya, this one is different. It is beautiful, they hand pour each and every candle in the store (except for the little tealights they keep at the counter for convenience) and they are the most friendly, helpful people you would ever want to shop with. And yes, soon, you will be able to shop online (www.springstreetcandle.com).
The site is up, but the shopping portal isn't finished yet. Why would you want to shop with Jon, Pam, Mike and Sonny as opposed to running down to your local Hallmark or Bed Bath and Beyond or wherever you buy candles? First of all, their prices are fantastic - 2 26oz jars (that last FOREVER) for $20.
These are high quality, eco friendly, highly scented and beautiful candles. Next, and most importantly, they are helping a lot of people. With the early summer 2009 launch of Candle 4 Cause, 6 charities will be receiving a portion of every candle 4 cause product sold. More on the details as they get closer to launch.
So, please, got to www.springstreetcandle.com and look around. Their phone number is on there, so if you want to make an order over the phone and have candles shipped (and I highly recommend you try these out), just give them a call!

Le Pew!

I am an allergy sufferer. Most of the ways that it affects me are not that bad - sniffly nose, watery eyes, sneezing, etc. etc. Occasionally I'll end up with a BADASS headache over it, but for the most part it's not a big deal.
Then there are the "other" occasions: The "I have known since I was a teenager I should not wear perfume, but can't seem to help myself" occasions. WHAT A MORON!
It's probably been 2 years since I have sprayed perfume on my body - I'll usually opt for a natural body spray which doesn't seem to bother me. But about a week ago, my younger step-daughter left her perfume on my kitchen table and it smelled SO good, I thought I'd just give it a try... For three days in a row... Yesterday I was feeling pretty funny and just dismissed the thought. This morning I almost passed out and had to have my husband drive me to work during his vacation. Here's the stupid thing: I've been through this before. It's not like I didn't KNOW better. What is it about the lure of a good smell like that?
To top off this happy occasion, I have a 10 o'clock meeting with a very important bank rep. He is coming to make sure that we are up to his standards and meet his criteria so that we can use them for financing. I can't imagine he will be too impressed if I end up face-planting in my office floor when I should just be shaking his hand...
Perfume - I officially hate it.

Happy Memorial Day!

Sincere thanks to all the veterans who have served us or who are still doing so. My dad served in Vietnam right out of high school. He never talks about it, but I know he was shot and honored with a Purple Heart. He still breaks out in rashes from the Agent Orange and has shrapnel left in his leg, but, like most veterans, he never says a word about it. Thanks dad!

The rest of my blog for today can be viewed over at 47 and Starting Over. Thanks again Julie, for letting me guest post!

The Official Child Mortification Process

This morning I got to drive my husband's mid-life crisis to work. It's not what you might think, either. Most men (at least as television depicts it) hit their midlife crisis and want a sports car or something super cool like that. Not my hubby. A couple of months ago he decided he wanted to sell his truck. This was a nice truck. And, honestly, we needed it for pulling the horse trailer. That didn't stop him from selling it, though... and buying another truck and selling it two weeks later and buying another truck and trading it off the next day for yet another and selling that one and piddle-farting around (translated: riding everywhere with me) until he found THE truck. He called me, excited. He'd found the coolest little truck... So he bought it.
It is 19 - NINETEEN - years older than the one he originally sold. He drove it home and didn't quite make it because the motor blew up. He had a rebuilt motor put in it, but it is still ugly, it is noisy, it is crappy and so-help-me it has a sticker of Wylie Coyote in the back window (he's holding a sheep and flipping someone off - presumably taunting me). So, I figured it's fine. He's going through a phase. We can pull the trailer with my Explorer for now and it's not like I have to ride in the noisy little thing. Wrong.
Last night he announced that he would be needing to trade vehicles with me today because he has to get shoes put on one of the horses. I was mortified (although quietly) until I noticed that Pea-Pie was twice as embarrassed about it as I was. Of course I lectured him about how we were lucky to have any kind of vehicle in this economy and that as long as it gets you from point A to point B, that's all that matters... He conceded defeat and climbed in. When we got to school, I noticed he was in a huge hurry to jump out and get away so I insisted on a long hug. Then.... just as he was almost to the school entrance, I revved the motor and honked twice...eeep eeeeeep.
New Old truck $500
Repairs $1,100 (so far)
Febreeze to get the smell out of it $4
Being able to terrorize my child with it....PRICELESS!

Shorty

I can't post my own blog today. I have to... No... I GET to work on one for Julie over at 47 and Starting Over. She has one or two more followers than I do (coughbullshitcough) okay, hundreds more. So, I'ma concentrate myself over there...
Hope you all have a fantastic Thursday!

That's a Hand!

I started taking art classes several weeks ago. The teacher was my high school art teacher. She lives a few miles from me and we reconnected through Facebook (turns out Facebook can be good for something besides making me feel guilty for not keeping up with everyones requests).
During my first class, she had me draw a human (whole body), a human face, a tree and a pitcher. It was embarrasing. Looked like something I would have drawn in Kindergarten. She's sneaky, too, because she keeps those first pictures and occasionally whips them out at me, presumably to keep me humble. Last night was my 5th or 6th class and I had to draw my own hand. The palm side, fingers and all. You know what? IT LOOKED LIKE MY HAND! Bless that woman, I'm actually learning! She let me bring the hand picture home to show my family (she still won't let those first drawings out of her sight) and guess what? They recognized that it was a hand! What else could I do but hang it on my refridgerator?

Red-Neck Roulette

I stopped at Sonic this morning (America's Favorite Drive-In..Thru?). I ordered a burger and an unsweet tea as per usual. While waiting on my food I decided to play one of my favorite games: CD Roulette! See, whether we're talking cds or dvds, I am famous around my house for one thing: Taking the cd/dvd that is in the player out and sticking it in the case of the cd/dvd I am about to put in. After a while, it's anyone's guess where the cd/dvd they are looking for is actually housed. ha! They (those other people who live in the house with me) say this habit of mine annoys them. I say pshaw! I'm convinced that one day, when I'm gone, my son will tell his grandchildren about how their crazy old great-grandmommy would do this. And they will say, "But Granddaddy Pea-Pie, what's a cd/dvd?"
ANYWAY, I pulled out my Third Eye Blind cd case (the greatest hits one) and GUESS WHAT WAS INSIDE?! Jason Mraz. But not JUST Jason Mraz (and here comes the most shocking part) - THIRD EYE BLIND - The one that actually belonged in the case! I jammed that disc with the volume ALMOST HALF WAY UP all the way to work!! Seriously, at my age and with my superior Ford sound system, that's really saying something! (I don't know if it is really superior, but I work for Ford so I say it's superior dammit). Good thing my husband was off work today. I mean, I love my husband and I love working and living with him, but you can't take a 40-odd year old redneck and blast Third Eye Blind with him in the car. He knows not of sipping gold, rose skies through his nose! He wouldn't try to talk someone off a ledge and he's certainly no Crystal Baller. So, twice a week, when we don't work together, my stereo gets the cob webs blown out of it and my ears get a good thumping. Tomorrow it's back to Charlie Daniels and the saga of Wooly Swamp. (don't ever go down there at night).

Bug Bastard!

Friday I had to call in sick (with a puking migraine). The day went something like:
Puke
sleep
puke
cry
wonder if i have pig flu?
puke
no fever - scratch pig flu
sleep
wonder if anyone loves me enough to shoot me and put me out of my misery?
puke.
It's official - noone loves me enough to shoot me. Plan on making new friends if I survive.

Saturday I had to work to make up for missing Friday (okay I didn't HAVE to, but I hate missing work). The day's list looked much the same except before puke, you have to add in "run across showroom floor into the bathroom"...
Sunday was the same but (thankfully) without the headache, leading me to believe I did NOT have a migraine causing nausea, I had a bug of some kind causing ALL of it.
Now I'm off to catch up on all your blogs!

The Montauk Monster

I just have one question: WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS!?
I am dumbfounded, grossed-out, intrigued and CURIOUS. What up? Even Snopes hasn't determinted it's a hoax, but here's what gets me: Why are all of these scientists having to speculate from photographs? Why wasn't the carcass disected and examined? Just for that reason alone, I have to go with hoax.

And this is how you tell I had absolutely nothing to blog about today.

Urine for a real treat!!

Mrs. 4444 is giving away a great prize! Please follow the link and check it out!
Go Girl!

Bottle Calves

We have started buying bottle calves. That's fine. I mentioned before that we are getting ready to build a house and these little boogers are the money behind it. I really really like the idea of building a house. I really really like eating beef. I do NOT like being personally responsible for hauling the little cuties off to sale, knowing that they are going to be killed and eaten after I've logged a jazillion hours petting and feeding them. I ABSOLUTELY refuse to eat one of our own. Sorry, but once it's looked me in the face, I'm not putting it in my mouth. I've gone so far as to threaten vegetarianism upon our household when my husband insisted we butcher one (scared the crap out of everyone else-they can't cook).
Mind you, I would get up at 4am if I needed to in order to get my house built, but the more calves we buy, the earlier we have to wake up and I'm TIRED. Possibly a little grumpy, but we won't talk about that.
This morning, we overslept so the whole fam damily had to run around like chickens with our heads cut off trying to feed horses, calves, dogs, the bird, and the rabbit. Hubby had to change clothes before we left because one of the brand new babies "SHIT ALL OVER MY PANTS" as he put it. (snicker.snort.gufaw!)
Anywho, after all of this running around, trying to get ready, making sure everything was fed, we got to school to drop Pea-Pie off and, at the same time, we all realized WE did not eat breakfast. Nor was there time for my poor boy to eat at school by that point. Maybe, just maybe, I'll end up dropping some weight in this deal. It would be nice if sleep wasn't the only thing I lost!

Poor Sis

Yesterday, my phone rang and I ignored it because I was busy. Stupid thing to do, but it was my mom and she calls like 8 times a day to chit-chat. About 5 minutes later, I listened to the message she left and heard her telling me that my little sister had a seizure at school and they were on their way to the hospital in an ambulance. Well, I felt like an ASS for not answering the phone, but jumped in my vehicle and headed up to meet them.
It was pretty bad. She fell out of her chair and face-planted right in the floor - bruised her forehad and chin and her poor little nose was swollen. She bit her tongue, too, when she hit and hurt it pretty bad. According to her teacher, it lasted about five minutes. An alarming amount of time. She wet herself. Not the ideal thing for an 8th grader, but the principle assured Meg that noone was going to make fun of her - the other children are very worried.
I don't have any experience with anyone having seizures, so let me tell you, I am VERY frustrated with the fact that noone can tell us anything. The hospital took blood tests and ran a cat scan and said they couldn't find any reason for the seizure. It may happen again but may not. How's that for vague?
So, anyone have any experience in this area? I'm doing research but I usually find a lot more comfort in personal experiences than I do in textbook reading.

Update

I feel sort of bad now for screaming about my husband. He just brought me a cup of Mug Rootbeer as what I can only imagine was a peace offering. Weird but nice.

I WILL have my kitchen!

Had a great weekend. Friday, ya know, we had the bad storms and we didn't get electricity back until Saturday afternoon at our house (it had thankfully come back on at work Friday morning). I ended up taking a load of furniture down to Eureka Springs without make-up (or a shower). That part was awful. Moving the furniture into my friend's new store was so much fun, though. Plus the shopping, visiting and food that day were out of this world.

Sunday we planted my garden. Hubby and Pea Pie were real troopers as I laid the garden out and gave out instructions. (Which was kind of funny since I have no idea what I'm doing). This is my first garden, so wish me luck. If everything survives, we should be enjoying tomatoes, carrots, jalapenos, anaheim peppers, spinich, lettuce, radishes, eggplant, squash, canteloupe, sweet corn, watermelon, pumpkins, cucumbers and onions. (crossing fingers). My younger step daughter got me a candle and a very sweet card. It's the first time she's ever given me anything (first year she's had a job and her own money). What a great surprise!!

Now, on to the kitchen...
My husband and I live in a trailer house. The reason that we do is because 9 years ago, we bought 34 acres, had to dig a well, run electricity, put in a septic system - the whole nine yards and we did not want to go into a ton of debt (considering the current economy, I would say that was a great choice). Now we are at a point where we are ready to start building and GUESS WHAT?! We can't agree on a plan. We agree on what the outside should look like, we agree that we want wrap around porches and he has conceded to the fact that I want 2-stories. The big deal breaker seems to be the kitchen - I want a big...make that HUGE one. He doesn't. My big question to him not wanting one is WHAT THE HELL DOES HE CARE? It's not like he cooks. Or uses the kitchen in any way unless he is washing out the calf bottles. Then, this morning, in midst of a fairly heated discussion about my kitchen size he says this... "You never use the kitchen anyway." Huh?!! I LOVE to cook! Does he think I go in the bathroom and do it? Where does he think the food he eats comes from? I can tolerate almost anything, but people who just say ridiculous crap when they get angry or to make their stupid point even when it's not true just really piss me off.

EEEK!

Severe storms and a tornado in my neck of the woods this morning. 11:45 and we just now got electricity. Lots of clean up and catch up, so I'll see you all on Monday!

I'm not well equipped for adulthood.

You know, adulthood is not what I thought it would be. I thought that when I hit my mid thirties I would be this really together person who knew what to do in any situation. Where does that idea come from? Is it to do with people always telling you as a child to wait until you're an adult and then you will understand? I think it would be more honest to say wait until you're an adult and then you can let on like you understand.
Seriously, I thought that one day, when I worked my butt off (turns out that doesn't literally happen either) and got a great job running a company, I would just be so together and "with it." Apparently I put on a great show because everyone seems to think I've got it down pat. Friends are calling me asking advice about their job or their company. I say (with sage wisdom in my voice) whatever pops into my head. They thank me. We hang up. I spend the next five minutes wondering why the hell they would ask me ANYTHING, let alone business advice.
So, I wonder. Will my whole life be like this? Do elderly people still wonder when they are going to get it together? Am I the only one who feels this way?
It's ponderous I tell ya...

Why I would be the perfect woman for an affair:

I was looking in my rearview mirror today at lunch and realized I would be the perfect woman to have an affair with.
I'm 34 (a woman is in her sexual prime at this age, you know?) and I have almost as much gray hair as I do brunette. What does that mean, you ask? It means that I could totally get nekked in some dude's car or home, leave a hair (women are always on tv screaming they found another woman's hair somewhere) and the chances his wife would think he was having an affair versus the chances his wife would think he was helping out a sweet old lady are even!

At the Buttcrack of Dawn...

I got up this morning and managed to grab a towel and head for the bathroom and the shower I so desperately needed in order to wake up. As I was walking by the front door, this is the scene I witnessed: (hey, sorry about the poor pic quality, but I took this with hubby's phone while trying to tip-toe around and not disturb the scene)



WHAT...THE...HELL...!?? Seriously! Is she just totally dominating my red healer or what? What would possess one dog (with 34 acres to call home, mind you) to choose to sit on top of another?! Poor Roscoe is either whipped or a really heavy sleeper.

Impossible Mom-In-Law in the making.

Well, here we are again. Cinco DeMayo. Many of you don't know that Cinco DeMayo actually translates into "Pea Pie's Birthday." The boy was born on the 5th day of the week, the 5th month, the 5th day of the month AND the 95th year of the century. Methinks 5 is his number.
This is his last birthday before he starts high school. I'm completely emotionally scarred on the one hand and completely excited to watch him grow on the other.

Here's what nearly gave me a heart attack, though. Last night we were driving down the road and he was telling me how hubby had let him drive all the way from our house to pick me up at art class (all county and country roads - I take class at my teacher's house). and THEN:

Sidenote: in Missouri (maybe everywhere, I don't know) you can get your drivers permit when you turn 15, but you HAVE to have it for at least 6 months before you can get your license... On with the story:

Pea Pie: My girlfriend finally got her drivers permit.
Me: Oh that's good...Wait, is she 15? (Looking at hubby like a deer in the headlights and noticing that he's looking pretty pleased with boy).
Pea Pie: Yeah, she's 15. This is the 3rd time she's taken the test.
Me: Wow, how often do they...Wait..How old IS she!?
Pea Pie: She'll be 16 in November.
Me: !!!!!!!!!!

Forgive me if I'm completely incoherent today, but I canNOT wrap my head around this one. Part of me is trying to be calm, the other part is screaming "She'll spoil him faster than mayonaise left out on a summer day!!!!"
OH LAWD HELP ME!!

Why Mirrors are Necessary

I can't believe I am telling this story. It's horribly embarrassing, but since none of you really know me personally, what the heck:

I saw a picture this morning that reminded me of something I did my 7th grade year. In a fit of boredom one day and after having seen my older cousin's really cool Senior pictures, I decided I would put on my cheerleading uniform, put my saxaphone across the handlebars of my 4-wheeler and then have my mom take pictures of me sitting on said 4-wheeler. She did it, too. Looking back, it's no doubt that she did it with the idea that she could one day use these pictures to embarrass me to no ever-living end. She doesn't read this blog and I can only hope...nay...pray that she never finds those things.

I saved this picture for the last part of this post for two reasons: 1. So you can see why it reminded me of my weird jr. high photo session. 2. Because it's so dang funny you will probably forget my weird jr. high photo session: Also, I am wondering, does this man have a mirror ANYWHERE in his house?

Bunny Shmag...

Having a bunny is interesting, hilarious, patience-building and fun. Last night I came home to find that the bun had escaped it's cage (which is, until this evening when my cage gets delivered, actually a big laundry basket). We haven't been able to catch it since, but it runs into and out of the basket by jumping up on picture boxes my son put there for stairs. Very intelligent. A co-worker suggested I get a large butterfly net until little NinnyMuggins gets easier to catch. But his/her/it's cage comes tonight, so maybe I can lure it in there and quietly close the door...

Having a bunny seems to be affecting my husband, too. Behold the genius conversation we had last evening:

Hubby (singing): Little Bunny Foo Foo Hopping through the forest, picking up the field mice and bopping them on the head.

Me: Why would he do that?
Hubby: What?
Me: Why would the rabbit bop field mice on the head?
Hubby: I don't know, he was just playing
Me: Well, it's not very nice.

There are so many things wrong with that converstion, I hardly know where to begin.
1. My 6'1", 220 pound hillbilly husband singing Little Bunny Foo-Foo
2. Same husband not only answering my stupid question, but defending Bunny Foo-Foo by making up the fact that he was "just playing."
3. Me taking the motherly approach and wanting Bunny Foo-Foo to play nicely...

I've said it a hundred times: If there was someone outside our window listening to half the conversations that go on in our house, they would have us committed.