Long Time, No Blog

Things are busy here-busier than usual since we're getting ready for our big move. We'll be leaving here in mid-December and spending the holidays in Minnesota with our beloved families. Then it's off to Everett, Washington and the surrounding area. We still have no place to live there and that's making me rather nervous, but something will turn up, I'm sure.

The kids are doing great. Micah made honor roll and got a Good Citizenship award last quarter. Marissah is in Project Gold and Pep Club and really enjoying herself. Aaron is....well, he's Aaron. He loves Kindergarten, but the past week he's been getting into a little trouble. Nothing major, just the usual little boy stuff: playing in the bathroom, talking at rest time, spitting (SPITTING?!). He's a little ball of fire, that's for sure.

Please keep our Gracie Girl in your prayers. She's been diagnosed with pulmonary edema (excess fluid in her lungs) and cardiomyopathy (enlarged heart due to the excess fluid). She can't see very well and she can't hear at all. My gut is telling me that the time is getting near, but the vet says she's fine. :/ She's on medication now, but I'm not seeing any improvement in her breathing.

The weather has really turned here. It's only 50 degrees this morning and our high today will only be 55. I suppose this will help me acclimate to the sub-zero tundra of Minnesota. Ha.

Here is a picture of my little fire ball. Don't ask how this came about, as I didn't take it (Daddy did). In any case, it's funnier than hell and it's totally Aaron!

9/11

We will never forget.

Driving in Memphis

I had to take Micah to the doctor today (just a regular check-up) and was reminded of all the reasons I hate driving in Memphis. People around here just don't know how to drive. If there's ever been a case of road rage in Memphis, I'd be willing to bet at least one person involved was a non-native. Seriously.

I never got much freeway-driving experience until I moved to San Diego. For one, I lived an hour away from the nearest big city. For another, my mom was (and still is) terrified of freeway driving. Essentially, I learned in the "sink or swim" manner. I'm proud to say I swam and, to this day, have never been in an accident while I was driving.

Driving in Memphis, especially on the interstate, is awful for someone who hasn't driven here their entire life. The speed limit is 65, so why in the hell are you going 55, moron? No, this isn't a little old lady I'm talking about. It's a grown man in his pick-em-up truck. But, really, it's not just him. It's everyone. They're all going 55 in a 65 mph zone. Curious.

Or maybe it's not so curious. You see, when it's time to merge, everyone slows down to let those poor suckers trying to get on the freeway in. Wait just a cotton-pickin' minute! Why not just move over to the middle lanes???? Well, apparently those middle lanes are not for driving on. They are for.......um........nothing? I don't know what they're for, but only in the heaviest traffic are they used. Otherwise everyone's in the far right lane and they're slowing way down so Jim Bob can get his Dodge Ram onto the freeway.

You'd think that all these slow drivers and empty center lanes would make for smooth sailing for a driver like me, one who is completely unconcerned whether or not Jim Bob makes it on to the freeway. But no. Just.....no. Old Earl there, in his 1968 Cadillac, thinks he owns the road. He pays taxes on the whole thing, so why can't he use three lanes at a time? And don't forget Billy Tom, who has his kids riding in the back of his pickup, unrestrained, of course. No seat belts in the bed of a truck, after all. The church bus (and there are about 350,000 of them in the city of Memphis alone) is going 30 in the right lane, apparently looking for sinners who may be wandering the side of the freeway, just looking for a ride to a better place. Wait, is that a minivan stopped up ahead? Why yes, it is. Looks like Darla Sue saw a deer and, wouldn't you know it, she just happens to have her rifle handy and she's all dressed to hunt, what with her purty camouflage jacket. Who's it going to hurt if she just pulls over and pops off a couple shots? Willie stopped to scrape that possum off the HOV lane. That'll make a tasty lunch. And there I am, dodging cars and trucks and vans and praying, just praying for a nice, leisurely drive on the 5 North. During rush hour.

You see, in Southern California no one gives a rat's ass if you're trying to get on the freeway. You put on your blinker and start merging, praying you'll make it without hitting anyone. You can do this safely if the car closest to you is worth more than your vehicle. That dude in the Mercedes is not going to risk his $4000 paint job. He'll let you in. Time to exit? Again, just do it. There's no need to slow down. Take the shoulder if you have to. Everyone, including the Highway Patrol, understands. If you've ever wondered why people in SoCal drive 4-wheel drive vehicles when there's no terrain to speak of, it's because of this: they're simply looking for a vehicle that can climb over the Beetles and Volvos. And most of the time they're successful.

Of course, there are hazards to driving the SoCal freeways. Well, driving in SoCal in general is a hazard, but there are a few things to keep in mind. Rule one: Never stop. Ever. Blown tire? Keep on driving until the next exit. No, it does not matter that everyone is waving at you and yelling that your tire is flat. As long as the car can continue to move forward, you must keep going until the exit. Yes, this happened to me. No, I was not going to risk life, limb, children and car by pulling off on the shoulder. That's just another lane to Californians.

Rule two: Avoid hand gestures, unless they are obscene. Yes, strange as it seems, you must not acknowledge a good freeway deed with a wave. Just treat it as your God-given right and keep moving.

Rule three: Keep up with the flow of traffic. I don't care if you're scared. I don't care if you don't want a speeding ticket. If your car can't keep up with the other drivers on the road (sometimes this means going 90), get the hell off. You have no business on California roads (not just freeways) if you can't stomach high speeds. No one's going to get anywhere if we all slow down.

Rule four: Close your eyes and hope for the best. Yes, this seems pretty simplistic, but it's always worked for me.

Happy driving!

The Adventures of KinderBoy!

Aaron's loving school. We can tell because it's all he talks about. He's got a new best friend named Frank and he's already informed me I must get Frank's phone number on Meet the Teacher night (which is tomorrow). He's been doing lots of coloring (today he colored a lovely chicken) and has learned to play a great new game called "Follow the Directions." Unfortunately, it's still so hot here he's only been able to go outside for recess one day. :( On that day, however, they played Tag and Aaron was most impressed. He likes that game better than that directions one. What a surprise, huh?

Knock on wood, I haven't yet received a call from the teacher or principal regarding his behavior. He must be saving it all up. ;)

Happy Birthday!

Today is Marissah's thirteenth birthday. How on earth can I have a teenager?! It seems like just months ago my Mini Rissa was crawling around on the floor, weeks ago that she was screaming "Beat!" whenever Big Bird came on TV and just days ago that she was starting school. Now she's thirteen....

She's growing up and getting lovelier every day. Happy Birthday, honey! We love you!

Back to School

Tonight at dinner Micah gave Aaron some solid, yet unsolicited, advice about school. "Aaron, just watch out for the people who laugh when they get in trouble."

After I laughed myself silly, I realized that he's right. Those are the kind of people you should watch out for, aren't they? What an astute kid! ; )

Tomorrow at 7:40 I'll be driving my boys to school. Their hair has been cut, they have new clothes, their new backpacks are bulging with school supplies. They're ready and so am I. OK, so I might cry a *little* when I leave Aaron in his classroom, but aren't I entitled to that? Wish us all luck!

P. S. After I drop them off I'm heading to Starbucks. *grin*

HOT!

First for a weather report: our current temperature is 102 degrees with a heat index of 104. That's actually not too bad. Yesterday our heat index was 112! The humidity is lower today and that helps quite a bit. Last night at 10 pm it was still 93 degrees outside. Talk about insane weather! Unfortunately, there's no relief in sight; the weather forecast through next week calls for more hot temps and more humidity. Oh, yay. NOT!

My kids are all registered for school and will start Monday. Aaron only gets to go to school one day next week (their way of getting the kids used to school, I guess) and he picked Monday. I know he's excited, but it's going to be a long week for him until he gets to go back! We're working on shoe-tying this weekend so he'll be "all ready" for school.

Random Thoughts on a Hot Day

It's 95 degrees with a dew point of 73 degrees here right now. It's going to get even hotter-there's not a single cloud in the sky. By the end of the day our heat index will probably be 110. Ugh. I'm sick of heat and humidity. We just can't get out of this state fast enough to please me. Here are some random thoughts on this hot day:

Barry Bonds hit his 755th home run last night. We missed it. After watching the Giants play every night for a week, we didn't even think of turning the game on and he hit his 755th to tie Hank Aaron's record. Now, don't get me wrong: I still hate Barry Bonds. I think he's an arrogant asshole and a steroid user. Mike wanted to see Bonds hit the big one, but I was hoping to see Bonds break his leg. Failing that, I would have been happy to see a pitcher throw straight at his head. Oh well.....I guess I can keep dreaming since he hasn't broken the record yet.......

My kids start school in a week. I can't believe how fast the summer went, but it's just about gone. Aaron has no idea that his days of freedom are numbered. He's excited for school, but in a very abstract way. He wants to go to school to (and this is a direct quote from him) "drink chocolate milk every day, have recess and get 10 girlfriends." Ah, yes, he is his father's son. When I told him I'd be lonely at home without him he assured me that Doc and Gracie will keep me company. He's not staying home with me when there are girlfriends to be had!

My new vacuum is still doing an excellent job. Unfortunately, Doc isn't scared of this one, so my daily dose of laughter is gone. I'll have to find another way to torment the stupid thing. He's still positive he could catch a squirrel, bird or lizard if only we'd just let him out of the yard. We've seen a couple deer in the woods behind our house lately and he really goes nuts over them. I'm tempted to let him loose just to see what he'd do, but with my luck he'd never come back.

Last, but not least, keep your fingers crossed for Mike's orders. We're really hoping for a billet here.

Yes, It Sucks!

My new vacuum sucks-and that's a big change from the old one. That one didn't suck at all! ; )

Yes, I'm being punny, but I'm so excited. I bought a Dyson vacuum cleaner today. I'm tired of spend $150 every few years for a new vacuum cleaner. Hopefully, since I spent more than that, this one will last more years.

My last vacuum was a Eureka. Never, ever buy a Eureka. I should have known better. My first vacuum was a Eureka and it started on fire while I was vacuuming! Not good. Then we had a Hoover which barely lasted a year. Then a Dirt Devil which didn't even last a year and then the other Eureka, which died today after three years. This last Eureka, though, was the worst. I've replaced the hose and the beater brush, not to mention umpteen belts (seriously, like one every other month for the past year or so) and bags up the wazoo. My new vacuum has no belts and no bags. I love it! I vacuumed yesterday with the piece of shit and when I vacuumed with the Dyson today it looked like I hadn't vacuumed in months. The canister was FULL. Nasty!

I'm also a very happy girl because I paid *way* less for a Dyson at the Exchange than I would have anywhere else. Yay me!

Happy Birthday, Linda!

My friend Linda has a birthday this week. Bad me, I can't remember if it's today or tomorrow, so I'll cover all bases!

Happy birthday, Linda! I'm still not happy you abandoned me in Tennessee, but I hope your day is a great one!

Lights Out!

I don't know what it is about this area, but our power is constantly going out. It's only for a second or so, but it's long enough to screw everything up!

I'd say in the past week or so we've lost power three times. And it's like this every week, without fail. It's not usually out for long, although there have been a few times where it was out for a couple hours.

Yesterday it just did a quick flash, off and then on again. Of course, that means the DirecTV had to reboot. And the computers had to reboot. The clocks need to be reset. And my dryer stopped. It's gotten to the point that I don't even bother to reset my clocks because I know I'll be doing it again in a few days. I have a good old-fashioned analog clock in my living room, so I rely on that instead of the VCR or microwave.

The thing is, the power isn't going out due to a thunderstorm or rain or anything. It's apparently going out because it can. Or because this is The South and that's the way things work around here. It's just really annoying and yet another reason I can't wait to get the heck out of here!

July Book Review

Moving is Murder by Sara Rosett
© 2006
Kensington Books

It's about time there was a mystery with a military wife as protagonist! Sara Rosett has written an engaging mystery featuring Ellie Avery, Air Force wife and mom to a newborn.

The Avery's have just moved to their new duty station when Ellie discovers the body of a murdered neighbor. Before she knows it, Ellie is drawn into the investigation and her own life may be at stake. Moving is Murder is a delightful book. It's light and cozy, but never cloying. Ellie is not one of those perfect characters-she struggles with a crying baby, bed head and not enough hours in the day, just like the rest of us. But she's also determined and devoted to her family which makes her a very believable amateur sleuth. The details of military life and all it entails are funny-and too true. I personally loved when Ellie mutters to herself that she thought she and her husband had left "yard of the month" competition behind when they left on-base housing. I can relate.

If you're looking for a witty, entertaining read, look no further than Moving is Murder. Rosett's second mystery, Staying at Home is a Killer, is also available from Kensington Books.

The Bronx is Burning

It's been a long time since a television program caught my interest, but after one episode, I'm addicted to The Bronx is Burning on ESPN. The show follows the 1977 Yankees in their pennant race, along with other events occurring in New York City that summer, namely the Son of Sam murders.

The cast is fantastic: Oliver Platt plays George Steinbrenner, John Turturro plays manager Billy Martin and Daniel Sunjata plays Reggie Jackson. Platt's Steinbrenner is just exactly what I always thought Steinbrenner would be like and I can't help but laugh at him. Turturro is perfectly scrappy and greasy, in true Billy Martin style. And Sunjata? Well, he definitely "gets" Jackson's ego.

Unfortunately, this is only an eight-hour miniseries. How disappointing. I mean, really! What could be better than clubhouse gossip, on- and off-the-field rivalries and a few good murders thrown in? What a winner!

Have a Nice Day!

Maybe it's my Midwestern upbringing, or the fact that I'm just a nice person, but I bet I say the words "have a nice day" at least 3 times a day, often to complete strangers. So, tell me, is this something that just isn't done anymore? It seems like lately I get no response when I tell someone to have a nice day. Now, I'm not looking for anyone to tell me to have a nice day, but some people's rudeness just astounds me.

Today the kids and I were out and about. We went to Hancock Fabrics to get some foam and upholstery fabric so I can recover one of our office chairs. I told the lady who rang up my items to have a nice day and she just turned away. Eh, whatever.

At Target the cashier smiled genuinely when I told her to have a nice day and, from the look on her face, she was surprised a customer would say such thing. The library was another non-reaction. Burger King? Well, I'm still thinking about Burger King. It took forever to get our food (in fact, someone in line two cars behind us apparently gave up and just left without their food). When the girl finished handing us our stuff I told her to have a nice day and she grunted at me. Now, there was nothing special about my order. I didn't make her work extra hard or even ask for freaking ketchup and napkins (in fact, I didn't get either of these things). Really, did I deserve a grunt? Talk about rude.

The guards at the gate on base always say thanks when I tell them to have a nice day-and I always say it to them. These poor men and women stand outside for a four-hour shift in the heat of summer and in the cold of winter. Today, I greeted the guard, showed him my ID and told him to have a nice day. He smiled and thanked me and I drove away.

So, what's the deal? I'm always hearing about how polite people in the South are, but that's not my experience. The older people in the South are unfailingly polite. The young people, with the exception of my Target cashier today, seem to be just the opposite.

Oh well, I'm not going to let a bunch of rude people turn me into one of them. I'll keep greeting people politely and thanking them when they've rung up my purchases and I'll even keep telling them to have a nice day, even if they just grunt at me in return.

Independence Day!

Hope everyone has a wonderful 4th of July! Celebrate our country's independence safely and don't forget our men and women who are serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. They truly know what it means to make a sacrifice for the freedom of all Americans!

Correction

It has come to my attention that I forgot to pay homage to the most important of Barbie's friends and family, Stacie, Barbie's baby sister. How on earth I could have forgotten Stacie is beyond me. My own sister, also named Stacie (what a coincidence!) gave Marissah a Stacie doll for her birthday or Christmas one year. Forgive me, those holidays all run together.

Last night when I was trying to sleep it occurred to me that my house is Barbie-free. Well, maybe not completely Barbie-free. We still have a sad, lonely set of twin sheets that feature our blonde and beautiful friend but, as my boys are the only ones with twin beds, they don’t get much use. There are no longer any Barbie dolls, clothes, shoes or accessories in our house, though. Not a one. They’ve all gone to the great Barbie emporium in the sky, courtesy of Waste Management, Inc. and Glad Force Flex garbage bags.

The whole Barbie thing at our house started when Marissah was two. My lovely neighbor, who shall remain nameless (her name rhymes with bear-see, just a hint) decided that my daughter needed her first Barbie doll. I was adamant that she did not need her first Barbie—she was two years old! Well, Neighbor-who-shall-remain-nameless got her way and she gave Marissah a Barbie for Christmas. Marissah liked it, of course.

I wasn’t anti-Barbie or anything, but I’m still not sure she’s a great role model for young girls. Let’s face it, when Barbie leaves the “office” at night, we know she’s not going to a museum opening or even home to read a book. No, no, no. Barbie’s heading home to watch Entertainment Tonight and thumb through the latest copy of People to see if there are any articles about her and Ken’s nasty break-up. She’s not volunteering her time at an animal shelter or a soup kitchen, she’s spending hours on the phone with Skipper, dishing out advice (No, Skipper, you simply must wait for him to call. Good girls don’t call boys!). This isn’t even touching Barbie’s totally unrealistic body image. If Barbie were a real woman her measurements would be 38-18-34. I don’t know about anyone else, but my 13-year-old daughter’s waist is bigger than that, by quite a few inches!

Yes, I know there are Teacher Barbie and Astronaut Barbie and probably even Rocket Scientist Barbie, but there is also Barbie and Tanner. Tanner is a dog and he poops. Yes, he poops. Never fear, though, Barbie has her own little pooper scooper and a lovely pink trash bin in which to dispose of Tanner’s waste. And we also have Barbie Divas-these are the new version of that 80s hit, Barbie and The Rockers! Our girls can learn to dress like Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan, just what we’ve always wanted!

I had a few Barbies when I was growing up, but not many. I just wasn’t that into them. My most beloved Barbie wasn’t a Barbie at all. It was Barbie’s friend, Tropical Miko. Now, we all understand Barbie’s friends, don’t we? Most girls never wanted to play with them-they were just “extras.” Face it, Barbie had to have a little competition for Ken’s affections. That’s where Teresa and Skipper and Miko came in. And Miko, well, she’s another story altogether. She’s Barbie’s version of that famous line: “I’m not prejudiced! Some of my best friends are black!”

So while I was lying in bed last night, I was kind of surprised by the little bit of sadness I felt. I’ll never again find a naked Barbie in the fridge or the bathtub. I’ll never again play Barbies with Marissah, teaching her how to dress the dolls and showing her the finer points of color coordination. On the other hand, I’ll never again step on a Barbie shoe in my bare feet in the middle of the night-and that is something for which I am truly thankful! I guess I’m mostly sad that my little girl has grown up and left her Barbies behind. While I was writing this, I turned to Barbie.com for assistance. Marissah noticed and asked what I was doing. I told her I was looking for something. “For me?” she asked. “No,” I told her. “Good!” she said.

Slap Jack!

Aaron has a new favorite game. Yes, we've been playing Slap Jack all. day. long. During one of our rounds I noticed we were short a few cards, three to be exact. I sent him on a treasure hunt to find them, but he only returned with two. Figure the odds on this: of the three cards we were missing, two of them were Jacks. He only found one. Hahaha! Makes Slap Jack a little more interesting, at least.

He beat me the last game and proceeded to sing "Woowoowoowoowoowoowoo!"

When I Rule the World.....

A Louisiana town passed an interesting law this week. They've made the "offense" of wearing sagging pants that show a person's underwear (or "private parts" as the mayor called them) punishable by up to six months in jail and a $500 fine. Read it here.

Now, of course I can't say I agree with this new law. Let's save jail space for the assholes who really deserve it: rapists, murderers, drug dealers and deadbeat parents. But let's have a little fun with this.....

When I rule the world garments containing more than 5% Spandex will be banned on anyone who weighs over 100 pounds. Yeah, that's pretty much everyone and for a damn good reason, too! Spandex doesn't look good on anyone with even a little meat on their bones.

Speedos? We'll never have to see them again once I'm Queen of Everything. Well, maybe I can make an exception for competitive swimmers and divers because, in my opinion, swimmers are extremely sexy and I enjoy seeing their bodies. But they will never be allowed on a public beach again!

Crocs. See previous post.

What would you ban if you ruled the world?

Crocs....Again

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Crocs are yucky. If you weren't convinced before, check out who's wearing them now.

I rest my case.