July Sucked!! No Wait It's Better! Nope, It Sucks Again

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I'm trying to be classy this time.  Like Judi Dench would be.

However, what I really want to do is be petty and nickle-and-dime this jackhole until his eyes and ears bleed.

In short July kinda sucked, but then it got better for a minute, and then it sucks again.

Let me explain.  We started the month by finding out that the tier three unemployment (that we were told we would just roll-over to) had not been approved by the government yet.  So, you know, that bill paying check that you were waiting on because you're family is still dependent on unemployment and you pay bills with one check and the other bills and buy food with the other check and you have nothing left saved at all...

That check?  Yeah, ummmm well keep filing and when and if the fucking Republicans get their heads out of their greedy tight asses, you'll get back pay.  Until then, good luck... no wait, this is a government agency; no good luck.  We rescind the good luck statement and replace it with fuck you, your call has been disconnected try again later.  So no money coming in from Hubby's end.  (I only mention this specifically because it will become important later.)

And my daughter came amidst all of the unintentional poverty.  Which we were graciously pulled out of the depths by the kindness and generosity of unexpected help by a couple of family members.  And to them I bow down and kiss their pumps or heels or asses (whatever they prefer).

So we were able to get my daughter from the airport with a registered and insured vehicle and had the money for tolls and gas both to and from the airport both ways.  Hell, we even had enough left to feed her while she was here... cause yeah, it was looking that bad.

And then my grandmother came through one last time in the final disbursement of her estate which was enough to actually pay all the bills up including the current due.  Which was nice cause trying to do internet college on library computers sucks donkey rocks.  And having to wait till you get all two-hours-of-drive home to call the people involved with your daughters travel plans sucks.  And wondering if you're going to wake up with electricity and home phone service sucks.  And getting phone calls that they're going to repossess tool-boxes sucks.  And all three of your husbands credit cards are now over-limit thanks to fees so now we can tack on more fees, sucks.  And trying to concoct something edible out of 4 day old baked dry-ass chicken breast for a man that's doing Atkins for his diabetes and totally ungrateful for your culinary inventiveness sucks. And Gran's estate disbursement took care of all of that.

I have 5 dollars left in my wallet.  That's all.  But hey, the bills are all paid up and we won't start getting 'hey where is our money' calls until the first week in September when they'll be over-due again.  YAY!!! 

Except that yesterday, hubby... Prince that he is, told me that when his back-pay and all that comes in from unemployment since the Republicans unclenched, he's going to change the oil in my car and give me $500 and I need to move out.

Here's the kicker; he's been thinking about it for months.

MONTHS.

And the sorry, no account mother fucker let me spend all of my money paying bills for what is soon to be ONLY HIS house.

I'm trying to be classy here, so I will stop myself before I rant.   And I'm not going to call him out on facebook this time.  Why would I, this did not originate on facebook this time.

I'm livid.  I'm also aware that it's time for me to go, so it's not that painful, but to quote M from James Bond, "He's got a bloody cheek!"  (You really need to put that into a British accent to not have it sound like he needs stitches.)

I have faith that God will allow me to leave here well, very well.  But, that's why I haven't been writing; better to blurt it all out in one OMFG blog post than drag all the crap out for the entire month post by post.

Any prayers would be greatly appreciated; cause July has really sucked.

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This Year for Father's Day...

This year for Father's Day, I'm going to give hubby the best presents ever.

I'm going to wash, dry, fold, and put away all of the laundry so when he takes a shower he won't have to dig in the hamper of clean clothes to get dressed.  

I won't even complain about the condition of the bathroom when he is finished.

I'm going to give him the big cup of coffee.

I'm going to clean the house on Saturday so he'll have dishes to eat off of, glasses to drink from, a clean floor to walk across, and somewhere to sit on the couch.

I'm going to take him to Denny's so he can eat all the eggs and sausage and bacon he wants without hearing me bitch about doing the dishes again.

But, I'll let him drive so I don't give him heart-failure.  I also won't ask where he's going or correct him on how to get there.

Then, I'll take our son out for a while so he can jam to his music at airplane-engine decibel levels without having to concern himself with the future deafness of the boy.

When we come back, I'll cook for him so he can dine on something other than leftover microwaved BBQ.

I'll let him choose a non-animated movie.

And I won't vacuum if he takes a nap.

I'll take Jas every 4.3 minutes to the bathroom because he says he has to pee even when he doesn't because he just wants to flush the potty.

I won't kick him off the computer because I have to "do something right quick, and it's important".

I'll let him know that sex is an option, but by no means mandatory.

I'll kill my own spiders and tree roaches without screaming like a limb is being amputated without anesthesia.

I won't eat potato chips in front of him, because he's on the Atkins diet.

I won't roll my eyes and make little huffy noises when he makes me crazy.

All that, and a card too.  What more could a Dad want for Father's Day?  See, best presents Ever!

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A Thanksgiving Weekend Post

It's Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend.

If y'all are like me, you are sick to damn death of turkey by now. The pies and mashed potatoes are gone but you still have stuffing and too much gravy and holy-hell-are-you-serious-I've-got-so-much-more-turkey-to-go-that-I-could-feed-both-my-own-household-and-a-third-world-country-for-about-a-week.

However, I for one am too poor to send said shitload of turkey to any third world country, so in my fridge it will sit, being eaten slowly so that it has the maximum potential to mock me every time I open the fridge. "HaHaHa Aria! I'm STILL HERE! And I, Mr Gobbles, know that you can't in good conscience eat other food while there's enough of me to feed starving children all around the world, so plate me up again and do your damnedest to control your gag reflex... like when you're giving head." That's what the fucking turkey says to me.

Mind you, it's not entirely accurate. I broke down and made an egg & cheese sandwich last night because I couldn't take it anymore.

Being broke is also THE BEST TIME IN THE WORLD TO GO TO THE MALL ON BLACK FRIDAY. Seriously. I know you're scratching your head and wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Moneyless people, such as myself, should be at home cowering under the kitchen table trying to hide from the talking turkey in their fridges not at the mall!

But you're wrong. Pack yourself a turkey sandwich or six and a big ole thermos of spiked egg nog (or just a bottle of rum cause you can buy a coke at any vendor in the food court) and find yourself a comfy bench or resting place. Preferably in the mall near the entrance to Best Buy but near the center fountain works just as well...you'll probably be right by the Santa setup and oh Nellie, 'Kids Say the Darnedest Things' has nothing on perusing the line to see Santa.

Then sit. And wait. And try to take small bites of those sandwiches so you don't choke to death and become some other people-watcher's laugh of the day... just sayin'.

You will see an assortment of the most hilarious stereotypes on God's green earth. Wild-eyed frenzy will ensue all around you as bargain-hunters fly from one store to another determined to get the best deals, their wallets so worn out that they scream like someone in need of back surgery every time they're opened. These people laden themselves with so many bags and packages that they can scarcely see the walkway in front of them, never mind something else to buy. And if they stop for a rest they're dead cause it would take Schwarzenegger in his prime to hoist all that loot back into carrying position.

Sometimes the pros will bring a lackey, IE: a spouse, to run items to the car once they become unwieldy. This too is fun because after the first car-run the lackey will return in frantic search of his or her shopping maven only to discover them already carrying another full load to go to the car. These shopping-psycho-type-people should rent U-haul trucks for Black Friday. After the third return trip from the car as their Shopinista refills their arms full, you will hear something like, "How'd you find so much more stuff ALREADY?!? I was only gone for ten minutes!" The Shopinista's eyes will roll at their lackey as they refuse to dignify the comment with a response while they're 'in the zone!'

It's comical. Almost enough so that you forget that you're eating your billionth serving of turkey in under 24 hours. A tip for this Black Friday turkey diversion; make sure you take a cab, cause you'll never get parking with all the SUV's in the lot and you also don't want a DUI after downing all that rum. Just be sure to not be so shmammered that you can make your way back to Macy's so the cab can get you there. Cabbies feel safer outside of Macy's than Best Buy.

This Black Friday people watching will now work for you up untill Christmas, but won't be quite as eventful again until Christmas Eve after 2 pm.

Almost forgot that you were having turkey for dinner again, didn't you?

You're welcome.

I Was A Cross Between Pretty Woman and A Compton Gang Member So We Went To Galveston

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"He said he's taking the day off."

"He's taking the day off?!?"

"That's what he said. He's taking the day off."

Quotes from Pretty Woman, in case you've been under a rock or girlfriendless since the 90's.

As you may recall, in Pretty Woman Edward took the day off to play hooky with Vivianne.

I'm assuming that you feel a little like Phillip Stucky as I behaved like Edward Lewis yesterday. I took the day off and didn't update. So it was that on Monday morning you were still staring at LMFAO Friday.

I took the day off to bitch at my husband about neglecting to spend time with his wife. A point that wouldn't have been as effective to argue if I'd spent two hours putting a Monday morning post together. So I'm sorry you had to sacrifice, but I was saving my marriage.

Between his buddy moving in and my not going outside to smoke anymore I hardly see hubby lately... unless he's coming in to eat and make a disaster area of the house. Which had me feeling like a maid and wanting to yell shrilly at both of them until their ears and eyes started bleeding tell his friend, "This is MY man; Get Your OWN, you bleepbleepedybleep!!!" while I discretely got my knife ready cause I was going to have to cut the suckah.

So it was that hubby, munchkin and I, unprepared with a destination, camera or diaper bag, took an impromptu family road trip...

And wound up in Galveston. It's been over a year since Ike devastated the poor island and hubby was a little shell-shocked pointing out all of the places where things used to be.

It was my Yankee-ass first visit to Galveston, which is a shame because seeing it in post-natural-disaster-rebuilding mode is no way to meet a place.

It went from this:


in March 2007, to this:



on September 15, 2008 to this:



They've done an amazing job cleaning up all the matchsticks that were restaurants and souvenir shops among other things, but the coastline is pretty much naked now.

The one hotel still standing majestically out on the water is actually condemned which you can see as you get closer...

I'm glad I hadn't seen Galveston before Ike, because I would have been heartbroken to see it now. As it was, it was sad seeing all the construction still going on.

Even if you can't argue with a remodeling project initiated by God.

For a much better photo-article of the destruction of Ike and the year later aftermath, GO HERE.

Swine Flu in the Old Lady House

Well, it's official. We took the munchkin to the doctor Monday, and he's on the back end of Swine Flu. Of course we found this out after he'd played with every single kid in the waiting room and gone up to every adult and said, "Hello!!" because my child is nothing if not social.

I, myself, woke up Tuesday morning with a very sore throat and a kinda snorkiness in my head and think it's quite possible that I'm on the front end of Swine Flu. Yay. Combined with the backache I've had for three days due to the rains coming in, I'm just havin' a grand ole time over here! That was sarcasm for the uninitiated.

But, aside from that, our good friends, D&D were here over the weekend (if y'all get Swine Flu, bitch at hubby he invited you for this weekend, instead of waiting a week like I'd originally suggested.) and Lady D was telling me that she got rid of all their bugs (they too are a Texas country household) by putting out moth balls.

She swore, no spiders or mosquitoes or tree roaches any of which, in Texas, are both par for the course, as well as large enough to abscond with your toddler and sell him on the black market.

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Needless to say, with my pussy ghostly white Irish-non-Texas-saddlebag skin, getting rid of the mosquitoes made my ears perk up, but when she mentioned the other bugs that she no longer had in her home, I was all, smell hell, I'm gettin' me some moth balls!

So I did... OK, I'm lying. I had hubby get them cause he owed me for sabotaging my Sunday

So it is that I'm sitting here typing this in a Swine Flu ridden home that smells just like old lady, except, I must have only known 'hip' old ladies, because I never knew any who had a house that smelled like this.

I think my sore throat is getting worse from the smell.

Happily, though, munchkin and I are new-mosquito-bite free. That's huge because they've been FIERCE since the rains started. In fact, I'm pretty sure that picture above is life-sized.

But, I'm confident I'll live. As long as no more flying-monkey-sized mosquitoes feast on me, thereby inflicting mortal wounds; and Swine Flu doesn't kill me, cause in southeast Texas, they don't give you antibiotics for Swine Flu. Which, just, ya know, as a deductive hypothesis, may be why the mortality rate for Swine Flu is kinda high in the Houston area. Just sayin'.

But, I haven't hit the lotto yet, so I can't die.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Till I'm floating above my husband who is picking out my pine box. Then maybe I'll consider believing otherwise.

Maybe.

Itchy Bitchy-itis

After my last post, and Obama's speech (only available at he time of this post in text form, not on YouTube yet) last night, I'm sure some of you are thinking I'm going to post about my views on it all today. And you would be wrong. Obama, and my political feelings have been completely usurped...

I am thoroughly aware that bitchy tends to be my normal.

And that I have nearly-albino skin that seems to call out to mosquitoes, "Free all-you-can-eat prime rib dinner! Come and GET IT!!!"

I grew up in New Jersey where mosquitoes are the state bird. I've known about my caviar-to-mosquitoes state of being my whole life.

And yet...

After three months of burn-bans and "extreme drought conditions", the weather guy's words, not mine, that yielded ground so dried out that I LITERALLY have six-inch wide gaps in the ground in my yard, gaps wide enough to suck up a two-year old's leg to the knee, which hasn't happened yet, but is a possibility every time we walk to the car, I guess I wasn't prepared for what has happened over the last couple of weeks as the rains decided that we were once again worthy to experience their wetness.

As in, it rains buckets during the day, awakening with great fervor, mosquito larvae that has lain dormant all summer... and possibly since the Jurassic period, I can't be sure.

What I can be sure of, is that I literally had to get out a fly swatter the other night to take one of these dinosaur-sized suckers out. For Real. The body was as long as my pinky nail.

Let me say that again for the cheap seats.

The body was as long as my pinky nail.

Hubby tried to tell me without seeing it by the friggin' way thank you very little it was a mosquito hawk. YaNO, it was NOT a mosquito hawk, it was, distant cousin to vampire and T-rex alike, a MOSQUITO.

And now it's rained so much that the trailer has shifted... and the back door needs the strike plate readjusted so it will latch when you close it, so it was pretty much hanging there free-range yesterday as hubby and the roommate went in and out letting in, you guessed it, a shit-load of mosquitoes. Mosquitoes that decided for some unknown reason, that my bedroom was the newest nightclub in town.

I need a transfusion.

And a whole lotta sleep that I won't get because my hands were last night's buffet, and I was not-so-blissfully nudged awake by needing to scratch HOLES into my hands because I have mosquito bites on every square inch of my hands, and yes, almost exclusively my hands. Did I mention they feasted on my hands?

One on each forearm; 97,787,789,376 bites on each hand.

So, I'm up and typing this, in part to get my mind off of my itching hands and hoping, like 2 billion rosaries hoping, that Benadryl will have some SOME shred of an effect and also, because the striking of the keys helps to scratch the bites on the tips of my fingers.

This also may explain to you, my reader why there are so many line breaks in this post... They are scratch-vigorously breaks.

The only benefit to this torture is that I've lost enough blood to finally complete my home-transfusion and switch my blood type over to coffee, French roast thank you, none of that Colombian shit...

Which I will be doing by IV, because you can't hold a coffee mug when your hands are submerged in calamine lotion.

Bugged

I know that I'm crazy.

Let me clarify that, I now know that I'm crazy. I wasn't fully aware of this fact until my "Yankee" ways were exposed to the harsh light of southern country living, but now that I know, I accept it... kind of.

However, I'm pretty sure that hallucinations are not part of my regular level of insanity. I'm also fairly certain, that I'm not having nicotine withdrawal hallucinations, because those would have kicked in much earlier than 24 hours shy of two weeks. Nor do I think I am having sleep deprivation hallucinations, because to my knowledge, you don't get those while you're sleeping and have them wake you up...

So it stands to reason, that I'm up after ninety minutes of sleep, posting and waiting for coffee to brew because I really did feel something crawl up my leg and what the bleepedybleepbleepbleep was that?!?!? O. M. G!

I kicked the covers off of myself and the bed, jumped up like a ninja and perused the bed in the dark to the best of my ability, but there was nothing there. Aside from a slight shift in position and what could only be categorized as a caveman-like grunt from hubby, he thought himself the only other occupant in the bed and was content to let me freak out alone so long as I didn't disturb him too mightily. bastard!

I did my rational-human-being impression and tried to lay back down... without my covers, because I was taking no chances, but my eyes refused to shut. Instead, the mutinous orbs thought they were Malcolm McDowell's stunt double in A Clockwork Orange during the brainwashing scene. Besides, now, aside from feeling naked without my covers; I felt 'buggy'.

Damn I hate that feeling. Like whatever bug that gave you the shivers is now crawling somewhere on your body. Since I originally felt the offensive whateverthehellyouareyouneedtogethebleepoffofme on my leg, I was feeling particularly 'buggy' on my feet. After more delusional ninja antics, I ascertained that there was still nothing there, but by then, I was done for. There was no way in living hell I was going to be able to fall back asleep.

Even if I did manage to crazy-glue my eyelids shut, my brain would convince me that the mystery-guest would be along the sides of the mattress, waiting maniacally for me to let my guard down . And with each internal retelling the thing would evolve from a June-bug no larger than my pinky-nail to a Texas-sized roach to a tarantula large enough to swallow a raccoon whole. And the 'buggy'-ness would expand it's creepy-crawly-range to the back of my thigh, then my back, then my face until I spazzed sufficiently enough to not only wake up hubby, but to have him call for back-up from the men in little white coats.

Because, somehow in a maneuver that defied logic and all common sense whatsoever, a completely bug-phobic woman moved to Texas. A place where half the bugs make residents say, "Holy HELL that thing is HUGE!" and the other half makes them say, "Holy HELL, WHAT IS that thing?!?"... especially when you take a picture of it and have it waiting to show them the second they hit the front porch, before they can even utter the words, "hello dear."... just, you know, as an example *totallyinnocentlookandnotmewhistle*

But, no such thing as that going on this morning. Just me alone in my 'buggy'-ness and my exhausted-scared-awake state. I can't even go out for a smoke to calm my nerves, cause I don't do that anymore. Which, in this instance sucks. Cause, what am I supposed to do to take the edge off? I've quit every stinkin' edge-blurring habit I've ever owned, except for cheesecake, but I'm totally out of cheesecake, cause I didn't know to plan for a non-existent-bug-freak-out-incident.

Guess I'm getting kicked out of the Eagle Scouts for poor planning... which is fine if they'll tell me how to de-bugify before they hand me my walking papers and a parting piece of cheesecake...

I Dressed Up for a Road Trip

It was a nice Mother's Day. After posting yesterday, and talking to My Girl for the second time, Hubby and Jas and I loaded into the car for a day out.

I was kinda snarky... oh who am I kidding?... I was bitchy, because hubby insisted that I not wear anything remotely comfortable what I was wearing, but that I needed to 'look nice', and what woman doesn't love to hear that? Me, that's who... For some, this would be a cherished phrase implying that they were about to go somewhere special and probably expensive and don't you want to look good when we get there, dear?

I, however, was not un-presentable considering where we were going, which happened to be my favorite Chinese restaurant. I'd worn this or a similar outfit to this place oodles of times before. So WHY on a day that's 90+ degrees with 80+ percent humidity when we're going to a restaurant that we barely have to order before they know what we want, and then we're going to spend the remainder of the day in the car do I have to put on my jeans that are barely loose enough when I'm not PMSing it's not sweltering and I'm not sweating like a freshly run race horse and we're not going to go eat super-salty-bloat-you-fast Chinese food. Not to mention hubby's ham handed attempt at tact by not coming directly out and saying that I looked like shit and needed to change.

I simmered down soon enough after changing and getting 20 miles from the house and we had a nice late lunch with plenty of leftovers. Jas must have realized this was Mother's Day, cause he actually behaved the entire meal even though he fell asleep in the car and we had to wake him up when we got to the restaurant. Honestly, this would normally spell disastrous eating conditions, but he behaved beautifully for a 2 year-old and didn't bother too many of the other diners.

Once we left there I unbuttoned my pants the second we got to the car we headed off in the opposite direction of home and wound our way through a plethora of small towns talking and stopping for sodas. We made our way to Lake Somerville and got out for some pics.





Whenever hubby saw something that piqued his interest we'd stop so he could talk to whoever was 'in the know' about whatever it was that he was interested in. We found out about the four rusted out 50-something Chevys and Fords (no Edsels) in someone's driveway cause they were out working in their garden. We found out all about the new store at Big Creek Marina because hubby went in and chatted up the proprietor for 30 minutes, while I sat out in the car with the sleeping munchkin. Normally, this would have made me homicidal sunburned and angry, except that while I was cleaning out the car, the proprietor's father was out picking up garbage around the parking lot and started chatting me up by thanking me for using the garbage can...

We lost 10 pounds each in water-weight from sweating all day drove over 200 miles round-trip. I would up with two new outfits that were both comfortable and didn't look like crap and we were out and about away from the house for the better part of eight hours... Once we got home and I put away all our loot, peeled myself out of my 'nice' clothes, and settled into the air conditioning and a pair of sweats, my day was complete.

This morning I woke up to my son, already out of his bed and putting Quantum of Solace into the blue-ray player... nice to know things are back to normal... at least I don't have to dress up.

Happy Mother's Day

First of all, thanks to all of you who commented on the last LMFAO Friday... Lovin the Comments, people! But this is a different kind of gratitude post... It's a grateful Mama post. Things that made this Mom a mom, and things I'm grateful for on Mother's Day 2009.

I love you Mom

I miss you Gran

Thank you Jos & Jas

Happy Mother's Day, Y'all!

Too Much Twister

I don't usually post on Saturday, mainly because I like to pretend that I can make up for all my neglectful-mama behavior during the week by paying tons of attention to the munchkin on Saturday and Sunday. Also, hubby is home on Saturdays, and we get all manner of have-to-house-do's done on Saturday. Saturday is the only day that hubby is home that the garbage dump is open... IE: the only day garbage will go down to the dump... among other things.

But the last 48+ hours have been something spectacular. Not spectacular good, but eye popping and jaw dropping none-the-less.

Thursday, hubby found out that he was out of work as of Friday. The dealership he's worked for for over two years had scaled back as far as they could in the Service Department (hubby was the only mechanic, and there was only one parts guy and a service manager for the entire dealership) but it was still not financially feasible to stay open. They closed the service department. Hubby is now, like so many others around the country, unemployed.

So yesterday, knowing it was hubby's last day, I'm cleaning house and all the other things I like to do when hubby isn't home, since he'll totally be home All-The-Time even though he's job hunting; when I look outside and see scary clouds.

I call hubby to have him check Weatherbug on his work computer even as my brain is saying, "Aria, you've just spent two days in a row watching Twister on blue-ray and you're totally being a weather hypochondriac, chill the hell out!" Except that I get hubby on the phone and he says that Oh-Hey, there's a Weatherbug alert flashing on the screen... and guess what, it's a 5-hour-MoFoing-Tornado-Watch for the county that I happen to be calling him from. YEAH.

So I stop the housework and take the fastest shower of my life, and go outside to make sure that I'm not spazzing for nothing. Cause, to be honest, most of the time when weather type things go down, for some reason we're in the nothing-happening-here-bubble cause we're way location-blessed like that. Not yesterday though. I go out to chain smoke so I don't freak the fuck out check the sky for a few minutes and in my head, I hear my inner voice telling me to get gone, NOW.

My inner voice probably saw the many funnel clouds dipping down out of the big ole super-cell cloud just like they showed on the Special Features of the Twister disc, the one that was a History Channel real-science-not-CGI show about tornadoes. Ummm, Yeah. So I call hubby to say that we're gonna try to make it to where he is, and into a big garbage bag went all the things I felt we couldn't live without in case the trailer got picked up like Dorothy's house and not put back down. The whole time, my inner voice is getting a little squeaky and kinda loud as it starts telling me to, "Move fasterFasterFASTER".

Garbage bag and fully stocked diaper bag go into the trunk, munchkin gets whisked into the car without pants, socks or shoes... I have them, but they're in the trunk. I turn on the car and the radio is spouting nothing but static... on every channel. By now, I'm thoroughly freaked the Eff out. And I have to drive toward what looks to be the worst part of the sky to get to hubby. All my 20-year-old-bat-outta-hell-gas-pedal-to-the-floor-turn-on-the-nitrous-and-break-off-the-switch instincts returned, and thanks to adrenaline, they weren't even dusty, despite not breaking them out since I became a mother over 10 years ago. Luckily I've always been a very strong driver. I may not know where I'm going, but I can drive like a pro regardless.

Normally the drive takes 40 minutes. We made it up to hubby's shop in 25, despite the switchback section, the road construction section and the full-ass-freeway section. Munchkin, God love him, was asleep in the car seat like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. My breathing returned to normal, and I stopped being so concerned. If we were going to get wiped off the planet, at least we'd do it all together. I was OK with that.

About 2 hours later, hubby was done with his last day, so we started the drive home in our respective cars. The weather had headed our way, and while there were no funnel clouds to be seen, there were lightening strikes aplenty along with blind-you sheets of rain coming down. This time the drive took 65 minutes, because even with the wipers slappin' away on high, I could barely see hubby's bumper ahead of me. We made it home, the trailer was still standing and it was even clear~ish here.

I woke up this morning to a thunder clap so loud I jumped awake. Today is just as torrentially rainy, has just as many lightening strikes and shake-the-walls thunder as yesterday's storm, but with one huge exception... no funnel clouds. And we're all home together. I'm not even in the slightest bit freaked out today.

And as far as the job? We'll be alright. He'll either find something better or we'll hit the lotto. That's my mindset, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. I refuse to put negative energy out there about the situation, but if you want to throw us some prayers it would be appreciated. Just Sayin'...

April Fools Day Foods

April Fools Day ~ a day of levity and pranksterisms... And yet, I've never been good at pulling off anything even remotely blogable on AFD. Unlike Barefoot Foodie, I don't have maternity pants and hot dog hands to blog about. All I can say about that is, two years later, I could still wear my maternity pants, except I hated buying actual maternity pants, and just got stuff from the women's section... in my defense, they're a little loose now. Which is surprising because I can't seem to get any good food in Texas unless I want to eat Mexican. I love Mexican food, but not if it's my one and only option, ya know. So I've been searching the web for some tastes of home that I can have shipped to me in order to create a decent facsimile that I can replicate here.

Because, I'd never have hot dog hands unless they were Italian Hot Dogs ~ for the uninitiated (or uncorrupted depending on how you look at it) an Italian Hot Dog consists of usually two dogs (preferably skin-on Sabrett's) that are laid to rest in the billowing depths of great Italian bread and covered over with sauteed red and green bell peppers and onions along with pan fried potatoes and topped off with mustard and ketchup... Mozzarella or Parmesan cheese sprinkled sparingly on top is optional. *DROOL* For Italian Hot Dogs, I'd gladly have hot dog hands... and most likely, chest pains.

But, just because I love them and am all interested doesn't mean I need to impose my love and interest on others. just like religion Speaking of imposing my interests on others, I could relay the most horrifying story I heard lately, but most of you don't know what in the world pork roll even is, and couldn't care less that an entire truckload went on it's side and hundreds of pounds of it was lost to the roads of New Jersey. I won't even hold your indifference against you, despite my personal belief that a state of emergency should have been declared.

I can tell you that it's far cheaper and easier to get Taylor Pork Roll delivered to Texas than it is to get Polly-O cheese, but I actually found a place that will deliver it outside the New York, New Jersey area... of course this was after 4 hours of searching all over the damn internet and grocery services and by the time I found it my exhaustion overruled my enthusiasm, probably because it was close to 5 am... But I did find it... The ONLY One on the entirety of the vast, vast internet that will send me my beloved Polly-O. Still can't find hubby's Cain's Tea though... at least not for delivery to us, which, let's face it, is all that matters to me when I'm partaking in consumerism.

You can find these things, but not for delivery to you in whatever area you're in. Simply because these companies are in big cities, I, in my countryside existence, am not worthy of receiving the best things the food industry has to offer. Cause I don't battle double-digit crime rates and a thirty-mile-three-hour-commute 5 days a week, I don't deserve to partake in the culinary delights of the big city folk. Is that what these places really think? I mean, come on!... oneOneONE grocer on the entire World Wide Web that will ship me a brand of cheese that is available in any and every grocery store in NJ? Conspiracy or web-piracy?

And, the tea issue is even worse! Wal-mart sells Cain's Tea, but only in select stores, and apparently none of those stores are in a 100 mile radius of anyone in my personal phone book. I can get moose meat from Alaska in three days, but here in the Houston area, I can't get Cain's tea from Oklahoma. Supposedly, it's distributed by Sara Lee food service, but they don't even list it on their website. It's a conspiracy... and web piracy, because when you do finally find someone that can get you what you want wherever you are, you'll pay damn near anything to get it. OK,it's probably not a full blown conspiracy, or outright piracy, but it's gotta be an April Fools at least.

At this point, I'm not sure I'm emotionally strong enough to investigate the availability of cannolis.

Note to self: Next time eat before posting.

Christmas Week and the Aftermath

We made it... We survived Christmas and can now double-down for ourselves instead of others on Black Friday Redux... The brand new shopping day brought on by the poor economy and the fact that news shows have nothing better to report on because they're on too many hours, too many times per day. And for me, this is Black Friday Redux on so many levels...

I'm not in the mood for "Shopping News" which is such a puff piece that Matt & Meridith didn't even show up to pretend to give a damn. Nor do I want to hear about the So Cal Santa gunman who burnt down the house, because it's horrific and sad ~ pass! Nor do I want to hear about any soul-searching, I've had enough introspective time this past week. I'm sure I'll get back to these stories later on, but for today... I don't have the energy, strength or want-to for any of these things.

You see, I spent a majority of the week dealing with my hubby's family; because his brother ended his 9+ year battle with MS. It was both highly depressing and a relief all at the same time. The poor man had been in a nursing home for 8 years. He is most definitely in a better place.

But, I had huge issues dealing with it all, because I was enduring all the quirks and emotions of his family, when I didn't make it home for my own grandmother's funeral, in New Jersey. Had I, I would have dealt with my own family and their particular Shade of Crazy. This was a completely different brand of lunacy. Although, there were enough similarities to give me some unexpected closure for Gran.

For example... once again, there were cameras snapping away in the funeral home. Yep. But this time, it was more than one person, and they were taking pics of the open casket. I just sat stunned and appalled as I watched this paparazzi-circus go on in front of my own two eyes. As much as I ranted about it being done at Gran's funeral, I know that it was done discretely. I know this. I know how my proper-etiquette-conscious family operates. What I witnessed here in Texas included angling for shots while standing in the middle of the aisle. I was totally looking for Alan Lundt or maybe even Ashton Kutcher... They weren't there. I wasn't hallucinating, and the Asian lady at the donut shop didn't spike my coffee with LSD. It was real.

On the plus side, the family squabbles/wars were all laid aside for the day as the eldest of five children was laid to rest on Christmas Eve. And I didn't have to chase down my turbo munchkin because our friends D & D took him for the day. God bless them for that! Taking care of Jas was both brave and compassionate on a level I can't even convey. Especially knowing that we'd be returning the next day to do Christmas there.

Aside from my gifties (THANKS for the computer chair, my hind end isn't even hurting yet!) which were awesome ~ the most fun of the day was walking in with D's big-ole package, which contained a super-manly-you're-in-the-country-now-you-need-a-gun present that I had wrapped with the most non-manly wrapping I could find ~ Tinkerbell and hot pink paper with as many curly-girly-frou-frou bows I could make before I ran out of ribbon.

So my agenda for today is simple, because it's Black Friday Redux. Hubby has to work, and I haven't cleaned house or done laundry in two days, which in a home as small as ours, is tantamount to not doing it for weeks in a larger house... I'm cleaning house. I've assembled and hooked up everything that needs it, I'm working on the second load of laundry because we've got new clothes that need to be done along with our two day pile-up. I'm going to vacuum up & mop all the leaves and mud that got tracked in without thought or care since Tuesday. I'm going to do dishes and clean out the refrigerator so that I can get to the leftovers from yesterday's delicious feast (that D sent us home with. Which means that I don't have to cook... you can't see it, but I am so doing the happy dance over here)!

And then, I'm going to get into a Looooooooooonnnnngggggg hot shower, and remove the braid-beads from my legs, and shave; because I got my first nightgown since I was twelve, and I'm going to wear it tonight with out making my husband think of Sasquatch.

Then tonight when it's all said and done, and I've fed hubby and son, and scrubbed the house and myself... I'm going to sleep... till New Years... don't call, don't write, don't bother... I'm worn out, exhausted and mentally, physically and emotionally drained. In my day planner, I'm writing in:

Saturday, December 27th
7:00 am ~~ get up, use bathroom, eat something, change munchkin, give him food and drink, put on Disney; make sure it's on fastplay and automatic repeat. Inform hubby that from here-on-out, any and all munchkin needs are to be handled by anyone other than me until the calendar reads Sunday, December 28th. Punctuate this with "The Look". Return to bed and bury self under huge comforter... emerge for bathroom and food needs every four+ hours as needed...

Sunday December 28th:
8:00 am-ish ~~ return to land of the living. Spend time with family, call everyone that couldn't be here in person this holiday season...

So I'll see y'all Monday... Happy Holiday Weekend!

Crap-Wrap Christmas

And so my dear readers, we come to Monday on Christmas week. Aack! The shopping is done after braving the insanity on steroids that is the 'last shopping weekend before Christmas'.

Now comes the wrapping... and the hope beyond hope that you have gotten enough gift-wrap, bows, ribbons, name tags, and tape to get it all done without having to steel yourself against the brutal cold that's wracking the country today, not to mention the what-the-hell-are-all-these-people-doing-in-the-stores-don't-they-know-it's-a-weekday crowds. They, like you, are picking up the last odds and ends... as well as the last decent roll of gift wrap. So now you're stuck with that super-cheap-crap-paper. The kind that has ugly pics of Santa and snowmen in horrible, flat, off-red and strange-blue colors, and none of the ink matches up so the edges of the images are all blurry... and it's totally see-through anyway, so you have to double or triple wrap the gift or what's the point? And when you figure in all the extra paper and the frustration of triple wrapping, that cheap ass paper isn't so cheap after all.

And how are you supposed to get great pics of the kiddies unwrapping their gifties when they take one look at those Chucky-like reindeer on your crap-wrap and start crying. If you think about it, is pretty impressive, that they've managed to make Santa and snowmen menacing. Those graphic designers should be showcased on the Christmas Edition of How Do They Do That?

You also had to pull diversionary-military-tactical-maneuvers to get the last bag of smashed up off-color bows that match the off-color crap-wrap. The ones that are so mashed up and hideous looking (especially when you consider that they're ribbon), that the stores don't even dare put them out until they are absolutely checked-the-basement-and-the-rafters-and-every-square-millimeter-of-the-loading-dock sure that they are out of every other type of ribbon.

And God help you if you run out of tape this week. You may, might, pray-hope-pray, find some duck tape left at the little hole-in-the-wall drugstore downtown~ the one Walmart has all but forced to close down... they have some supplies left from 1954. They have tape!!! It's about a pen-width wide and is so old that it's yellow... really yellow, like change the color of the wrapping paper yellow. The stickiness is a crap shoot, but hey, you've got tape.

So, last minute wrappers... if these are your options...

...Wrap your gifts in newspaper, it's cheaper, thicker, and the kiddies might actually learn something other than how to bling their facebook page... maybe.

...And as far as the questionable tape, use staples... so what if there's a cashmere sweater inside... staples leave clean holes, semi-sticky tape can become the bane of your wrapping existence.

For the recipients of such crap-wrapped presents, show some mercy for your crap-wrappees. They feel badly that their presents don't look like they should be placed anywhere near your shiny-foil-custom-name-tagged-Martha-Stewart-looking-perfect packages. It's not necessarily mean to tuck the crap-wrap presents behind the pretty ones... Unless you roll your eyes and sigh loudly as you put them as far back as humanly possible so they are thoroughly hidden until said gift exchange, and when you take said crap-wrapped gift from the distributing party, you don't act as though you've been asked to hold a tarantula that's been dipped in cow shit. Then, it's perfectly ok to tuck those presents toward the back...

So, Merry Christmas Y'all! And remember, when you're driving to Aunt Sherry's house that the driver in front of you is as big an asshole driver as the driver behind you thinks you are... so better late than dead.

Drive Safely and Happy Holidays Y'all!

Did'ja Do Black Friday?

Did'ja survive Black Friday?

Did'ja remember your mace and pepper-spray and brass knuckles?

Did'ja get out of the stores with anything you went in for?

Did'ja settle for the lime green fuzzy hat with the blind-you-bright orange and hot pink pom-pom cause it was only a buck and you wanted to come home with at least ONE bag of something to show for the pitch-black circles under your eyes and all those bruises and jammed fingers?

Did'ja freeze your ass off lining up at Best Buy before the 10 o'clock news aired on Thanksgiving night just to be 98th in line and miss getting the one $300 laptop in the store?

Did'ja surprise yourself by out-maneuvering that flannel-clad-barbarian like you were bargaining with God for more time on Earth in order to get the last $600 50 inch plasma TV, become giddy in a way that is only appropriate for pre-teens in crush-love, then go to move your car and have your heart drop into your shoes because it all of a sudden hits you... you drive a Toyota Corolla, it's 5:45 am, and everybody you know with a truck (including the U-haul place) is still out cold from their turkey-induced-coma?

Did'ja get home exhausted and battered like a refugee and find that no one saved you any whipped cream to go on the mini-sliver of pumpkin pie that was left, and then found out that you were out of coffee to wash it down with too?

Did'ja set the alarm and get up at 3am Friday to hit the sales after staying up all Wednesday night cooking, and now you're so over-tired that you can't see straight, remember your name, or manage to drive yourself home even if you did know your own address, which at this point, you soooo don't.

Did'ja do Black Friday in all it's over-pumped, over-hyped, over-tired, knock-down-drag-out-sales-pitch-on-steroids?

Or...

Did'ja decide to be smart, and hold out for Cyber Monday so you can call in sick, travel less than 500 feet, shop in your pj's while sitting on your couch, get everyone on your list done in one day, have everything you bought show up at your doorstep, and not look like you've been in a multi-car-pile-up on the drive home from Aunt Esther's house?

Not only can you guess my choice, I'll make it even easier for you...

Happy cyber-shopping my dear readers!
~Now, isn't that better?~