Whose Children Are They? (and Christmas tree 2009)

I have no words.

I Feel So Much More Fortified Now

My new hair conditioner. Which apparently is a fortifying fortifier. As opposed to my old conditioner which was not ... uh, *fortifying?

Mount Wam Lookout - July, 2009

Hiked (uphill 4 miles both ways) to an old fire lookout on top of Mount Wam with the Co-Sinner this last July. His brother's ashes are scattered there. The day was beautiful, emotional, and not one I'll ever forget for many reasons.

So ... yeah. I'm not photogenic. At all.

Tagged....

5 Things I was Doing 10 years Ago

You know, I honestly don't know. This past year has been such a haze that it's wiped out my memory bank.

1. Cami was 1 year old, so I was ... living in a trailer while waiting for our house to be built.

2. Driving a white Honda Accord that eventually turned out to prove itself as a vehicle that had been through a flood.

3. Being pissed at a then-friend who refused to acknowledge the fact that in spite of very vocal affirmations on my part, thought that dropping in to visit unnanounced was okay.

4. Dealing with the unexpected, young death of a very, very good friend who was the father of a childhood friend of Travis's.

5. Thinking I had this motherhood thing in the bag.


5 Things On My To-Do List Today

1. Work. Finish this job. For some reason I thought a case about catching a child porn "collector" would be more interesting, more scandalous. Instead, it's just a lot of boring talk about IP addresses.

2. Shower. (LOL - that was for you, Shannon.)

3. Wash my sheets. I hate dirty sheets.

4. Kiss the Co-Sinner like there's no tomorrow when he gets home tonight. I miss that guy when he's gone.

5. Deal with the 2 or 3 boxes that have been sitting in the corner of Katie's room since we moved in here. I don't know what's in them, but obviously it's very important stuff.

5 Snacks I Love

1. Leftovers. Any kind.

2. Chips and homemade salsa.

3. Rotel dip. With 3 cans of tomatoes instead of 1.

4. Hot wings

5. Hot chili/creamcheese dip.



5 Things I Would Do If I Were A Millionaire:

1. Buy a house. With acreage for my horses.

2. Buy a new horse trailer. And horses.

3. Take my kids on a trip to Hawaii or a cruise. Something tropical.

4. Buy the Co-Sinner a new truck. He likes Chevy's. I forgive him for that. :-D

5. Get some... er, surgery. Enhancements. What have you.


5 Jobs I’ve Had

1. Read the stock market report at noon on a local radio station.

2. Waitressed. Loved it.

3. Security (I use that term very loosely) for the county fair and other events at the fairgrounds such as concerts, rodeos, truck pulls, whatever. Assisted in drinking the seized alcohol taken from spectators to these events in the parking lot. :-D I once pulled a woman off of the lead singer for Diamond Rio who had jumped up on the stage and was hugging him. I shook for about an hour afterwards. I'm very tough. ::avoids eye contact::::

4. Work in court as a clerk setting up paperwork and sitting in court for prisoner arraignments. "All rise, please. The City of Medford Municipal Court is now in session, the Honorable William Haberlach presiding." Loved it. Had secret sign language with cops about prisoners.

5. Legal transcription at home. ;::yawn:::: Means I don't get out of my jammies until afternoon some days.

There you go.

Kids and Horses

Just trying to figure out if I'm capable of getting pictures uploaded to my blog, so this, everyone? Is only a test. Do not be alarmed. I am not a professional photographer, or even a very good amateur one. No animals or children were harmed in the making of this blog, and no photoshopping was done to enhance the beauty of children or animals in the following, I also claim no responsibility for the second child wearing her hat slightly sideways.

After previewing this, I realized I could have at least availed myself of the editing options offered by AOL pictures, but that's just how I'm choosing to roll today.

Hmmm

Nothing exciting to say. This happened last time I thought I'd start writing a blog - as soon as I said it to myself and created the blog, I had nothing, but nothing to say. Same this time.

Let's see ... Kelly and I bought hay for Jerry this winter last night. There's something very comforting about taking care of an animal and knowing that you're ready for winter. The fact that he didn't even bother to come up to the fence to acknowledge me when we were unloading is not important.

Cami has her first band concert last night. I am not sure there is enough vodka in the world to prepare me for that hour of honking and missed notes, but I'm going and the look on her face of pride will make it all okay. Okay. Bearable. And I'm not really drinking vodka before I go because God knows I don't need to give this town any more fodder to chatter about. :::cackle::

Got into it with Travis last night over silly, petty stuff. He sold a truck and wanted me to sign the title. I agreed to, obviously, but just hadn't had the time for it. The rush is because some secretary of some buddy is a notary and fudged the rules on signing and needed me to get in and sign so she didn't get in trouble. Okkkaaayyy. I work, I have kids in school, I don't necessarily want to take an extra trip into town for that, so two days have gone by. Typical, he gets mad, calls me a coward (what?), says he'll "remember this and make sure you pay for it later," and then further says he's going to call his attorney on me and "see if he can't cost me some money." Whatever.

So. That's it. I'm in a funk today, I guess. Probably shouldn't post this since it's definitely not all sweetness and light.

Dirty Andy Strikes Again

Background: I'm copying some old posts from an old blog I wrote about three years ago. At that time I was still married, and we were in the process of building a house. Dirty Andy is a man who worked for us at that time, and he provided some good material for blog stories. Here we go ...

____


I'm not going to sugarcoat it. Dirty Andy tucks his shirt into his underwear. I know. I knnnoooowwwww!

I came to discover this scarring bit of information today. Dirty Andy is helping us do some of the finish work in the house, since we are under the gun and ready to kill each other and/or innocent kittens nearby. (And by "finish work" I don't mean to imply that we are actually anywhere near being finished. But that's not the point of this story. Not that this story has a point.)

Dirty Andy's task for the day was to attach electrical plugs to the wiring that is installed and then put the covers on those plugs. And Dirty Andy is a really, really good worker, so there's no complaining from me about his work ethic. Still.

So the plugs are for the most part of course low on the wall, which means the person installing them has to kind of stoop/kneel to install them. Which would expose one's buttcrack if their shirt wasn't long enough, or might expose, say, the top of their underwear if they had their shirt tucked into them. And if ones' underwear wasn't, say, newish, or maybe had (or maybe *hadn't!) been washed a lot to the point that said underwear were kind of yellow-ish and the elastic looked kind of shot, it would expose that, too.

Once again, I'm left to wondering questions no one will probably answer. Isn't the point of wearing underwear so your ass doesn't rub up against your other clothing? And if that is at least part of its purpose, wouldn't tucking your shirt into those underwear ruin that?

Katie, the Buffalo, and the Canadians

Yesterday morning as I'm "helping" (read being accused of ripping out by the roots) Katie with her hair before school, the following conversation took place:

KATIE: Mom?

ME: Yes? (Because she can never just carry on without an affirmative response, even though we're the only two people in a six-foot square room.)

KATIE: You know how when a buffalo gets hurt, like stabbed with a spear or something, and they go down and all the other buffalo stomp on them, trying to get them to get up, like they're protecting them or something?

ME: Uh ... yeah? (I don't know that, but why start an argument at 7:00 in the morning?)

KATIE: So when the Indians stabbed a whole bunch of them at the same time, were the rest of the herd all taking turns stomping on the hurt ones, trying to get them up?

ME: Uh ... I'd guess probably so, sure.

KATIE: Well, how'd the Indians get those buffalo to get out of there so they could get the dead ones and make food?

ME: Uh ... I think they had some on horses and some on foot and they all ran in there whooping and hollering and waving their hands and making lots of noise to scare the non-hurt ones off.

KATIE: Oh.

(Several seconds of dead silence.)

KATIE: Mom?

ME: Yes?

KATIE: Don't the Canadians still do that?