A Letter to Karma

Dear Karma,

I sincerely apologize for my gaseous outburst just a mere hour or two ago. Thank you for rewarding my consideration for others. It was very generous of you to send information to Beloved just as I published my rant.

Please be lenient with The Tie. Do not treat him like the stressed out mother of three with raging PMS (or other appropriate cuss words) that we know you can be. A little pop on the hand or butt probably would not do him a disservice but I leave that entirely to your discretion.

Again, I thank you sincerely for overlooking my rage and for allowing the lines to be short and the pumps to be fast. I'm sure it did not escape your attention that in spite of my state of mind over The Tie I did not fill up or take more than my fair share. I did double up over last trip though because enduring this stress week after week will significantly shorten my life span. I would not want to deprive you of any opportunity you may get in the coming days, weeks and years to teach me more lessons.

Thank you again for your tolerance.

Sincerely,
A Gassed up Friend

I Tried to Avoid it.

I tried very hard not to vent about the gas situation here in Metro Atlanta. I really did. I mean it's been ugly for over a month now and I am just getting to losing my mind so I think I did really well. But now I have had it.

For those of you who have been under a rock, the metro area is out of gas. No not low. Not suffering from incredibly high prices. No we're out. As is none. As in little baggies on all the pumps for a 50 mile radius (possible larger but I was afraid if I did anymore research I would be left). "Why?" you ask?

Because Ike knocked out some refineries. I understand that. But we weren't in this situation during all the chaos of Katrina. We weren't in this situation even when 9/11 happened and everyone panicked. So why are we in this situation now? No really! I'm asking why?

And as if being out isn't enough. When stations DO get shipments, folks pull stunts like I witnessed this morning. There was a line over a mile long which I had waited in for over 30 minutes with The Boy and Munch in the van. I watched a man fill up his SUV AND 5 2 gallon jugs. Now tell me. Why is a man driving and SUV and wearing a tie filling extra cans? Is he a landscaper? Is his wife's car low? I don't know and I really tried very hard not to judge him.

Until the pumps ran out just as I swiped my card to get a measly $15 bucks. Did the Tie really need to FILL UP? Did he really need those extra 10 gallons which would have done me for 2 weeks?

There's my real problem with this whole situation. If you are a commuter I understand, but are you carpooling at all? Have you looked at MARTA (our measley mass transit) if you work down town? Can you make do with less so that everyone can have some? I don't go anywhere so when I can find it I'm not filling up. I'm putting in enough to get me around for a week or two and then I'm going again.

Is this my own fault? Should I stop watching out for everyone and start being selfish like the rest of the world? Maybe. In the meantime I get to pray over my tank everytime I go out to pick Mo up from school (and yes, I should probably put her on the bus but she's only 5!) and subject my two little ones to morning gas raids until we can get anything.

And by the way if you live in a neighboring state that has plenty, could you talk to your lawmakers about sending us some relief? We would appreciate it!

The Playroom from the Nether Regions.

My office (ok, so it's my desk) sits right next to the playroom. I hate it - the playroom I mean. I am kind of fond of my desk. The chair is really comfy. And it spins. What was I saying?

Oh yeah! The playroom. I hate it. It will not stay tidy. I know it will never be "clean." It IS a playroom after all. But does it have to look like Kansas in the summer all the time? I would just like to be able to see the Emerald City carpet for more than minutes at a time.

Ok, so I am not the most disciplined about making sure the kids put away the toys when they are done. And I should probably stop letting them bring snacks down if I would like to stop stepping in questionable stuff. The funky smell would probably diminish if I would make sure the sippy cups got back upstairs at the end of the day.

But I guess the part that bothers me most is when we clean up. I end up doing the lion's share of the work. The whining that goes with the cleaning is enough to make me want to throw everything out and tell them to stare at the walls. And I forget that five and three year olds have yet to figure out logic. So when I say, "I didn't play with them - I shouldn't be cleaning them up" it pretty much qualifies as wasted breath.

Beloved reminded me that once upon a time (when we first moved in three short years ago) this was OUR den. Our place to hang out after the kids went to bed. Soft lighting, over stuffed couch, a little entertainment center with TV and DVD. A haven if you will.

Now the flourescents are on all day every day glaring at me from above like I am a burger on a warmer. The couch has been chewed up, juiced up, and recovered twice. The entertainment center has become combination entertainment center, toy chest and art board. No more haven. Just a playroom.

But it keeps them happy and I can referee the wrestling matches from my comfy spinning chair. I guess I can make the sacrifice to the Playroom gods.

How Cool am I?

So my pal over at Frogs in my Formula awarded me! This is my second award and wow do I ever feel special!! Thank you darlin'!

So it's time for me to share the love!! Hmmmm...who do I think is brilliant? Well there's

Sissy and the Martians over at My Kids Might be Martians
Kadi at Womb at the Innsane
Toni (my fellow dork) at Daily Dose of Toni
Jiggety J over at Jiggety Jig
B over at The X Mom
Mrs Schmitty and all the girls over at The BlubHer Overhaul
Tena and her Punky Monkeys
And of course, my hero! Trish over at MomDot!

Ladies you rule!! Together you have turned this little hobby of mine into a hospitalizing obsession! Thank you. Thank you so much!

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Things to Love about Fall

Sleeping with the windows open.

Blankets just feel better when there's a chill in the air.

Soup that's been cooking all day.

Beef vegetable, chili, loaded baked potato, chicken stew

Baking

Apple, pumpkin, and cherry pies, cookies of every kind, bread in all varieties.

Pumpkin Patch

Pumpkins, straw, red wagons, toddlers, parents with cameras

Color

Deep reds, bright oranges, warm yellows, fading greens, toasty browns

Yardwork

Raking, bagging, planting, pruning, mulching, standing back at the end of the day

Personal holidays

Celebrating five birthdays and an anniversary with people I love

Halloween

Dressing up, little spooks, candy, neighbors

Football

Pee wee, high school, college, pros, rivalries, friendly pools

Fall clothes

Early sweaters, boots, jeans, turtlenecks, long skirts, favorite sweatshirts

Warm mugs

Coffee, tea, cider, hot chocolate

Evenings on the deck

Tiki torches, sweatshirts, friends, Louis, Frank, Dean and Nat

Apples

Grocery produce section brimming with red, green, gold, and marbled

Now Here's One I KNOW I Can Win!!

Ok, people. So I pretty much got monkey stomped in the Class Clown contest over at MomDot. And I was crushed (are you feeling guilty for not voting? Good!!). But now I have a second shot. Kadi at A Womb at the Inn(sane) is hosting "Embrace Your Inner Dork!" And I am in the running.

Oh yeah!! This one I can win!! Pop over there and vote for either #10, 12 or for the video #15. Yup! That's all me!! Aren't you proud? Now here's the catch. You have to be fast!! Voting ends tomorrow at midnight so you have to go vote NOW!!

Tell you what. If I win I might even post a special dork video just for all of my fans. What do you say? Copacabana? Cuban Pete? Jump Jive and Wail? Hmmmm.....So much dorkiness to release on the world....

Wordless Wednesday!

Is there a better way to say Welcome to Fall?

Sure! Add carbs!

The Roll Coaster of Randomness

Don't ask me. My brain was full and I had to dump. Good luck on the ride and keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times.

Unsolicited Product Testing
I was invited to test out Noodleboro (new games by Playskool). I agreed because a mom can only put so many floor puzzles together so many times before she starts looking for the sharpest fork in the drawer. I was contemplating which eye I could live with out the easiest today when the FedEx man rang the door bell. Why do they do that? Now the dog was going off; Mo was inviting him to "Cooooome iiiin!" and Tuck was screaming, "Is it for me? Is it for me?"

We got the Sharing game and I have to tell you it's pretty darn cool. If you really want my full review you can find it here. But I will say this much. If you need to teach some basic social skills (listening, sharing, manners) to preschoolers you'll be interested. It's a really cool set up. So score one for Product Testing.

I pushed my luck a little and went to neighbor's and borrowed his Dyson. I've seen the commercials; I've drooled (hey, I didn't say my life wasn't small!). Now I'm not so sure. Maybe it was the model he had (DC2007) but I am not impressed. Mr. Dyson either doesn't have toddlers or he failed to have a mother of a toddler test his product before market.

Sure it sucked the dust and dog hair out of the mat under the carpet but I ran over a string four times and still ended up picking it up myself. The Bissell Boys would have sucked it up from a good foot away! Granted it would have just wrapped around the beater bar and jammed up the works for other stuff later but out of sight....

Mark that off my Christmas list.

Jello. Not something I enjoy but today I tried again. Have you seen the new Blackberry Fusion? Pretty good stuff for Jello. And I learned that we have a Mickey. You know "try it you'll like it" Mikey? That would be our Munch. No one wanted to try the Jello until she tore into it like it was chocolate dipped chocolate. Same thing goes for cantaloupe, watermelon, tomatoes, and pretty much anything she can beat the dog to.

Did I get anything done today? What do you think? With all this nonsense going on in my head I am not even sure if I made a to do list today! I did whack the tops off all the holly from Medusa's hair salon. Those things were out of control!! And I might be allergic. The spots where it pricked me (nasty stuff that it is!) keep turning red then fading then turning red again. Who put holly on the list of cool Christmas stuff anyway? Wrong answer people!

Are you dizzy yet? Did I send you for enough loops? I hope you enjoyed your ride on the Roller Coaster of Randomness. We here at Toilet Bowl Amusements thank you for coming. Please come again!

It's Called a What?

Oh, that's right! It's called a dish - WASHER! Silly me!

Now I am not one to lose my mind and rip off a good vent unless someone has pushed me. Well, guess what? That's a hand print in the middle of my back!

After church yesterday I made a dash out to the grocery store with the girls so that I would be able to combine trips. (By the way, don't come to GA if you are looking for gas. We don't have it! Another day for that one.) I called home to see if Beloved wanted something special for lunch while I was out and got the following lecture.

B: No. I'm fine. And that was the end of the call. But no sooner did I put my phone back in my purse than it was ringing again.

B: Can you do something for me?

Me: Oh, you decided what you want?

B: No. I don't want anything. But will you please wash the dishes before you put them in the dishwasher? I'm cleaning up the kitchen (wait for me to pick myself up off the floor) and there are dishes in here with little bits of food all over them.

Me: Are you kidding me? This rhetorical question asked so incredulously was answered with a three minute lecture about how it's hard on the dishwasher to have to clean food off of dishes and how our dishwasher (which is run a minimum of twice a day) is going to start drawing bugs.

The lecture would have lasted longer but I oh so politely excused myself from the conversation (ok, so I hung up on him!) and went about my shopping. Now this has had time to simmer in me and it's getting a little like a bad pot of chili. I keep getting hotter and hotter.

It is called a dish-washer. I put dish detergent in it. The argument is that it only serves to sanitize the dishes. Then why is NO ONE using actual soap and scrubbing on the dishes before they go in? Why am I not buying a sanitizing rinse to put in there instead?

I rinse the dishes before they go in so they are food free. Sure there are specks of ketchup left behind sometimes but it's a dish WASHER! And maybe I would be able to shake it off, but my darling Beloved has found a way to effectively restrain his cleaning urges. Yes, I have said the phrase "lift your feet" to him when vacuuming. So now he suddenly can tell me that I am going about things the wrong way?

Has he avoided eating off of dishes I have loaded in the dishWASHER my way? Nope!

Has he come down with some flesh eating virus he ingested from my dishes? Not yet!

Has the exterminator moved into the playroom? Absolutely not!

So what is the major malfunction? After lunch today I intentionally put a peanut butter covered bowl in the "dish sanitizer" just to get his goat when he gets home from work tonight. Tomorrow it's going to be a plate slathered in mustard and egg stuff. That'll teach him!

In Honor of National Talk Like a Pirate Day!

AAARRRGGGHHH!!!

Anybody Want to Make a Bet?

That shining day in every woman's year is fast approaching. As I cringed and braced for the impact this morning, I remembered to call my hubby and ask him to mark it on his calendar. I specifically scheduled it for his day off so that I would not be taking the children with me. The doc saw enough of them when he delivered them; he does not need to see them any more. On top of that four, three and one and a half is way to early to be that familiar with where you came from.

There are still three weeks between me and That Day but I knew if I failed to make Beloved's calendar now I would be up a creek with a very odd looking paddle. I will remind him again next week and the week after. I will remind him the Friday before and again the day before.

How much to you want to bet that he schedules a client for eight that morning knowing full well that my appointment is at nine? Will he do it on purpose? Who knows. But I am almost guaranteed that he WILL do it.

I have no earthly idea why he does these things to me. He did it with Mo's dentist appointment. He has been known to do it with almost every well visit for the last year and a half. Is he mad at me? Am I not "loving" him enough? Is he REALLY that determined that he wants another baby? I would be happy to do penance for all of that if he would just once spare me the stress of last minute baby sitters or a touring three ring circus when the sitter falls through.

Just in case I win this bet I had better go start lining up a sitter. Ugly Tuesday will be here before I know it.

Wordless Wednesday (even though I already posted)

Oh, yeah. I really have Mother of the Year sewn up.

************************************************************

And then I got this 2 seconds later. What a faker!

My Run for Mother of the Year

The campaign is off to a rough start.

Mo had a dental appointment this morning. Now let's start with a review of today's treatment. Three fillings, one root canal and a crown. Oh yeah. I really rock on the brushing of the teeth. I will be the first to admit that I failed her in the dental hygiene department and I have no excuse. But what is done is done so now I have it fixed and I go forward taking better care of every one's teeth. Lesson learned.

Today was the first round. There is more to be done on the other side but the doctor was a dear and split it up. She was excited to go because her best friend has a crown and she wants to be just like her. This is going to be fun! Maybe I should have tried to temper her enthusiasm a little but I wanted to avoid inducing anxiety. It was bad enough that Daddy was in a panic about her treatment. It was all I could do to keep him from freaking out. I was not about to add her to the mix. So I went with it. Bye MOTY points.

The longer she was back in the office, the more anxious I got. But finally they told me I could come settle the bill. I had just wrapped it up and had picked up the receipt when here she came through the door. Her eyes were a little bleary from the sedation and she had that funny little gauze roll thing hanging out the side of her mouth. She looked up at me with pitiful little eyes and said, "Mom, my cheek feels buzzy." I plastered on my fake smile and looked at the dental assistant who assured me she did a fabulous job and only got "a little wiggly right at the end."

We loaded in the van and she said in her most pitiful voice, "Please can we just go home?" Being the merciful mother I am I responded with, "Can't we go to the park first? Tuck was really good while you were in the doctor so he would like to go to the park." Who does that? Who puts their child through incredible pain and dental manipulation and then asks them to sacrifice themselves for the sake of their siblings? But she is a giving child and she agreed. I pushed the guilt aside with the thought that "maybe a little distraction is what she needs." Sayonara MOTY!

We made it all of ten minutes at the park. By then we were 45 minutes removed from the actual anesthesia and she was really starting to feel the effects. Tuck took one look at her and said, "Maybe we should take Mo home." The three year old. I was campaigning for a MOTY? So we loaded back up and came home.

You are going to tell me I'm lying but I promise on her silver tooth it is true. She got out of the van walked into the house and locked me out. I unloaded the other two and crossed the garage to have the knob stiff in my hand. Thank goodness I still had the keys and the front door. It made for a good joke and it made her smile so I took my punishment like a big girl. Then it was off to the medicine cabinet for some Motrin.

She is all snuggled up with her blankets and pillows and Boomerang so I think we may have made peace for a while. I hate to admit it but I have laughed a little at her expense. She has been looking and acting as pitiful as she possibly can in hopes of guilting me into all manner of treats and special treatment. There are some more MOTY points laughing as they pack their bags.

At least I have next year.

I am a Steel Magnolia.

It's time for Mo's first round of dental reconstruction from my failure as a mother. It was supposed to happen a few weeks ago but she had a stomach bug so it got rescheduled for tomorrow. I spaced and forgot all about it until they called me for my reminder call. I had to break it to Beloved.

He hates this. He hates that we didn't do a better job with taking care of her teeth. He hates that she has to go through this "trauma" at the tender age of almost 5. I have walked him through the treatment three times and I still had to sit with him this afternoon and translate her entire treatment plan into layman terms for him. I worked for a dental office or a year and a half when we were first married so I was not just regurgitating a plan that the dentist explained to me. I was even able to walk him through tooth structures and states of decay and the whole nine yards.

He still hates it. Bless him. He is so worried about his little girl that he would rather do nothing than put her through trauma. Guess who is going to the office tomorrow morning. Not Daddy, that's for sure!

It strikes me as a little funny though. Sally Field's character had it right when she said,"Men are supposed to be made of steel or something.**" But let something happen to their little girls and they go to pieces. It reminds me of when I was 12 and I broke my arm. My dad had to leave the room when Dr. DeThomas was setting it because he was about to pass out. My mom stayed right there.

I guess it just happens when you give birth to a child. You are immediately initiated in to the Steel Magnolias. So here's to you all of my Steel Magnolia friends.

But I Like my Crack - I Mean, Coffee!

My skull is threatening to split right down the middle and free my brain. I mean it. This brain - this rambling, wandering, slightly twisted brain - could be knocking on your front door in the morning looking for a place to sleep.

I messed up. I did not make the coffee last night. Then I topped that off with sleeping in this morning. Daddy-O was so busy trying to figure out why there was a naked - and I mean not a stitch, naked - child in our bed and why I spent the night on the couch with baby feet in my face; that he forgot to make the coffee. By the time everything was sorted out, I had to rush through a shower and whip some kids into clothes in order to make it to church on time.

Oh well, I said to myself as I tried not to die while descending the stairs in 3 inch heels and a caffeine withdrawal fog. I'll just grab some coffee at the welcome center at church. I'll be fine! Munch intervened and decided that a meltdown at the nursery door would make a good beanus interruptus.

I made it through church by praying that the headache at the back of my skull was still controllable. Beloved has made a pot of coffee and it is waiting for me at home. I'll have a cup before I go to the grocery store. Wrong. He went to Dunkin Donuts for his coffee and by the time I got home Tuck was determined that we were going to the grocery store on a date NOW!!

No caffeine today. None. I usually have a pot before 10 am and three more cups of strong tea before 3 pm. At 8 pm I could take no more. I brewed a cup of tea, downed three Motrin and prayed that duct tape can hold a person's head together.

If my brain shows up on your door step tell it that you talked to me and that there is a pot brewing and one on standby. Oh! And Juan Valdez is coming for lunch.

Welcome to Black Saturday

I know as women we really hate it when guys blame our moods on PMS. By the same token, I hate it when women use PMS as an excuse for their behavior. Nothing gives you the right to be ugly and just downright mean. There's still a call for manners and common courtesy.

That being said - I won't be leaving the house today. It's Black Saturday. The day in the pill pack when I am mean and spiteful and I pick fights and I yell and I'm grumpy and just ugly in general. But I know I'm that way. So I avoid people and I avoid putting myself in situations where tact and kindness are required.

And it always happens that the children refuse to listen or they pitch fits for no reason or they are whiny. So on top of my already grumpy hormonal state of mind, I have to deal with kid drama. Did I mention that beloved always gets stuck at the office for at least a full extra hour if not 2 every Black Saturday? And he really does get stuck. It's not that he realizes it's Black Saturday and he's avoiding coming home - he's oblivious; it's just my bad luck.

So here it is. Black Saturday. My house hasn't been cleaned in a week because I've been sick so I've taken BS out on the house. The laundry and the kitchen are all that is left and it's not even lunch time yet.

Wow that was cleansing. Maybe admitting you have a problem really IS the first step to recovery.

I am NOT going to make a good PTA member.

As is our usual custom, I packed up the troops at 2:15 and went to pick Mo up from school. There was Nudist drama right before we left the house and I've been under the weather so maybe I wasn't in the best frame of mind. But then I got into the carpool lane and my mood spiraled downward into the Abyss.

No one seemed to be paying attention so it was like being in line at the amusement park. A load of kids got in their cars and the parents pulled away. Five more cars pulled up to take their loads. But then there was that one person who just couldn't put the magazine down long enough to pay attention and let a huge gap grow. Finally she snapped out of it and pulled up. Now we're back in business.

Then we have the dad who apparently doesn't do this much. He waited until his son was standing beside the car to get out and carry him around to the other side and put him in his car seat with backpack still on. So now he has to take that off and buckle him in and make sure the buckle is through the seat properly. And now we're backed up again. Finally Dad gets in the car and here we go.

Now there was one car in front of me. So Mo jumps in I buckle her up as the automatic door closes, jump into my seat and put the van in gear. The mom in front of me has stopped in the middle of the lane to talk to the mom who has pulled over in front of the dumpster to get something out of the back of her SUV. And they talked. And they talked. And the line is pile up behind me and they talked some more.

Tuck is wanting to know why we aren't going anywhere. Mo is yelling at Tuck because she wants to tell me about her day and he won't stop talking about the ladies who are blocking the driveway. Munch can't be left out so she starts her "JUICE! JUICE! JUUUUUIIICCCCCEE!" campaign.

And they are still talking. Finally one of the teachers catches Dumpster Mom's eye and makes it clear that they are gumming up the works. And I hear her say, "Well, I guess we better move."

Ya think?!

I am not going to be a popular person at the PTA meetings. Say what you have to say and get out of my way. I'm not a very social person to begin with but if you want me to sit and talk about dr's appointments and dance classes you definitely have the wrong mom.

Maybe I should have titled this blog "Things I learned in the Carpool Lane!"

THE question has been asked.

Where were you when...

It's asked every year and every year I try to avoid the answer. Honestly, I don't like to think about it. I don't like to remember. I know no one does. So why do I feel guilty that I don't want to remember?

Maybe it's all the talk of patriotism and supporting your country and how horrible it was and how I'm supposed to be outraged. I am a patriot. I love my country and I am grateful for the freedoms that are afforded me simply because I live here. I support our troops. I wish they could come home and I wish there was a way to make the Middle East stable enough for them to just hop on planes and be home with their families. Yes what happened seven years ago was horrifying and I hurt for the families who have to face this day every year with a loss.

But the honesty is that I don't want to remember. I don't want to see the pictures and hear the story again. I didn't handle it well the first time. I don't want to face it again.

Where was I? I was in downtown Atlanta attending a training class for my job at the bank. I thought it was a bad joke or a horrible accident when the first plane hit. Then I heard about the Pentagon and the second plane and I disengaged. I completely shut myself down and just watched numbly as the towers collapsed.

Class was canceled and we were sent back to our branches because they wanted as many people out of downtown (especially the financial buildings) as possible. What should have been a 20 minute drive took an hour and a half because offices were shutting down left and right. I got back to the branch and it seemed like everyone was just going about business as usual. Maybe we were all numb.

I finished my day and went home where my roommate was in her pajama pants on the couch watching all the coverage and crying. My phone rang telling me that my cousin (who was working near the Pentagon) was ok and he would let everyone know what he knew as soon as he could. But I just watched numbly. No crying, no yelling, no anger, no fear. Just numb.

This morning I took Mo to school very aware of what day it was. The flags were at half mast and I felt the numbness coming back. I got home and my hubby was watching something recounting the events. The numbness grew. As soon as he got in the shower I turned the TV off. I turned it back on for a movie and the kids are watching the Pink Panther but I have avoided anything that reminds me. I don't like being numb.

Wordless Wednesday

Now that's some blue water I can live with.

I can't go to the grocery store alone.

I mean I can physically go alone (I live for it actually!) but I shouldn't be allowed too much time in the grocery store alone. Aside from the people watching, which is an art form in itself, there's just too much to see in the grocery store. I had to get 2 prescriptions filled today and decided since Publix was going to fill one of them for free I would get them filled there.


So I dropped off my scripts and decided to kill 20 minutes in the magazine aisle. Holy Cow!! This was a blogger's dream! Have you ever REALLY looked at the magazine rack in the grocery store?


Crawl. I thought it would be a baby magazine? Nope. All about off roading. Huh?


Seed. Gardening magazine? Nope. Science. Small connection there but that doesn't explain the robot on the cover.


Ode. The magazine for intelligent optimists. No kidding. That's their tag line. Is there a mag for stupid pessimists too?


Psychology Today was on the stand right beside Gospel Today. I just found that quirky.


But the piece de resistance? And this is a real magazine! Garden & Gun. Tag line? Soul of the New South.

Boy am I proud to live south of the Mason Dixon! Are you kidding me? There's a magazine about gardening and guns?! I didn't believe it and I couldn't bring myself to remove it from the rack so I came home and Googled it. In scanning it online, it actually looks like a magazine I would find interesting!

I'd stay and share more thoughts on the grocery store (why is there even a market for generic bottled water?) but apparently I need to go clean my 12 gauge and wash my garden gloves.

A dose of the ridiculous

I turned on the One Eyed Monster just now and caught the very end of The Abyss. This is one of my top 100 movies so I've seen it a time or two and I'm fascinated by the special effects. I have never assumed that this really happened. But at the end of the credits there it is. That disclaimer that comes at the end of every movie.

"The individuals and events in this motion picture are completely fictional and any similarities to real people and events is coincidental." Or something like that.

Did people really think that this guy free fell to the bottom of the ocean to disarm a nuke?

Do UFO's (underwater floating objects - you think I'm kidding? Watch the movie!) really control the molecular structure of water to communicate?

Are you kidding me?!

Usually when a movie is based on a real story or person, it's all over all the promoting of the movie to begin with. There are behind the scenes specials released and the entertainment news outlets drag up interviews with the subjects former dog walker's great aunt's hairstylist to get the "real" story.

What strikes me as so ridiculous is that our society is so out of whack that someone would probably sue the studio if they saw a movie that portrayed a midnight snack induced dream they had. Why is that disclaimer even necessary when a studio is making a sci-fi movie? Are people really THAT out of touch?

Maybe I'm just jealous that no one has done a movie about an out of shape yoga pants wearing mom of preschoolers who is obsessed with blogging.

So I'm a big softy! So what?!

My hubby was watching True Hollywood Story this morning when I got up. It happened to be Jessica Simpson and family and in my current state (full blown allergy sinus chaos) I was weak and I got sucked in.

I feel really bad for celebrities. I know! You think I'm crazy and you're probably right but please hear me out.

I don't wear makeup. Ever. I don't like it. I don't have time for it. And it's just one more thing for my children to get into and smear all over everything in the house. So I don't do makeup. I can get away with it because I'm just Mom. No one notices me unless on of the inmates has escaped and I am sprinting through the grocery store yelling at the top of my lungs.

Celebrities can't do that. They go out one time without makeup and suddenly not only are they bumped from People 100 Most Beautiful People but suddenly the tabloids have their families falling apart while they go into rehab and find out they are dying from African Hippo Rot. And if THEY were seen sprinting through the grocery store yelling, they would be suffering from a mental breakdown, an eating disorder and Turrets syndrome.

And don't get me started on paparazzi. Those people are brutal! I know they have to have a job too but do they have to be so ugly about it?! Come on people! Let her at least eat a muffin and drink her Starbucks without snapping a million photos that are going to be plastered all over telling everyone what horrible manners she has because she left 2 crumbs on the table!

I'm lucky. No one wants a picture of me. Not even out here in bloggy world!! Did you notice? Other than over at the Zoo where there are 2 (and those are the only 2 pics that have been taken of me THIS YEAR!), there are no pics of me to be had. My avatar is a Zedonk people!! Obviously I am not a Zedonk because I can type but I digress.

And heaven help the celebrities if they fight back. They are seen as brutal and rude and violent. How would you feel if there was a lens in your face 24/7 and people were interviewing you about how you're feeling when you didn't even know you were supposed to be sick? That's what you get for going out without makeup!

Nah. I'll stay just little old, poor, nobody notices me. I like hanging out in my yoga pants and spit up T-shirts. It's a nice cover for my eating disorder and Turrets.

I can't believe I'm about to do this.

I am about to blog about blogging! What kind of a dork am I?!

So here's the deal. I've been out and about promoting the poo out of the Zoo and you know what I've learned? Blogging is a full time job!!

I thought when I started this whole adventure I was going to be doing it for fun and it would just be a fun little outlet for all my frustrations and amusement. Then the virus spread and now I am on the quest to become the next Super Blogger.

How serious has it gotten? I just spent an hour dropping my Entrecard! I was disappointed this morning when I found out my E card "cost" less than it did yesterday! I was bummed because my blogroll didn't have more new stuff on it.

So now I'm wondering. Am I obsessed, addicted or possessed?

Stupid Bloggy Land! Taking over my life.......fricka fracka mumble grumble snorf fracka fricka

Do men have a clue?

Disclaimer: I love my hubby. I just don't love the way he thinks sometimes.

Tonite for example. I made dinner for 5 (us, our neighbor and his 2 guests). I asked ahead of time how many people and what was happening. I thought I communicated with everyone clearly.

Brrrnnnttt!

Turns out my neighbor's sister had Mexican for lunch so my fajitas weren't appealing to her so she and her friend (who wasn't part of the original plan) ordered out for pizza. My beloved said, "Well they ordered their own food so can I invite 2 more people?" Did I mention that I was putting dinner on the table when he asked?

So now my back deck has suddenly become the site of a 8 adult, 4 children, 2 dog dinner party. I have a small round patio table that seats 4. I rummaged and scrounged and used every lawn chair available. Ever dinner plate is now in the dishwasher and I can only hope that everyone had enough to eat.

I don't REALLY mind. I enjoy entertaining. I enjoy it a lot more when I can prepare better. I do have to say though that the last minute guests were the best part of the evening. Fun, helpful, pleasant dinner conversation. The other half? Ate their own food and couldn't get away from my house fast enough apparently.

sigh. Such is life in the bowl.

Wordless Wednesdays

Just because I'm having a blogging day today and I want to! So there!!

Going Green takes a LOT of Energy!

Did I mention that I think while I mop too?

Here's the deal. I want to be a responsible Earth citizen - I really do!! But it sure takes a lot of work! For example...

Recycling. Recycling takes concentration. What goes in the trash can and what goes in the recycling box? And speaking of my recycling box...I think it moved out due to lack of use. I can't find it anywhere. Yes, I could call WM and request a new one but that makes too much sense and then I would feel obligated to use it. That means I have to concentrate on trash sorting and I can barely concentrate in the shower.

Natural Resource Conservation. In particular, saving the trees and water. It's very difficult to call yourself a green household when one member insists on sending a small sapling down the toilet all at once at least 3 times a week. Did I mention that when the sapling goes down the water comes up? The water on my bathroom floor is enough to water half the county for a month. So much for conservation.

Green Cleaning Products. Yes, I'm sure they clean just as well as the traditional stuff. I'm sure there are vinegar concentrations to clean everything in your house. But I just need my lemon scent! I need to watch the toilet water turn blue and then green when someone forgets I was in the middle of cleaning the bathroom. Cleaning isn't my favorite thing anyway so why would you rob me of the little joys it affords me?

Have I taken any steps? Absolutely! We replaced the light bulbs with the CFL (or what ever they're called) but now we find out that if we don't move out of this house in the next 5 years (when they burn out) we will be responsible for finding the safe way to dispose of them.

We use the reusable grocery bags. But I have to confess that's more to give certain someone's something to keep their hands busy instead of filling the grocery cart with random unwanted pepperoni and macaroni. The fact that they benefit the planet is really just a side benefit for me.

And I tried resetting the thermostat to a higher level for the summer. But then Captain Inferno found out and started dropping it again. For the sake of the antique air conditioner I thought it was better to let him have his way. But then again that hot tub on the back porch that we get in about 8 times a year is probably undoing all of my efforts anyway.

About the only thing I can do to be really successful at the whole green thing is get these kids through potty training so I'm not contributing any more disposable diapers. But then again, isn't my water consumption going to go up from cleaning up all the accidents and doing extra laundry?

I want to be green! I really do! But Kermit was right. It ain't easy being green!

"Woman" or "Lady?"

Another random thought from the bowl from the past.

Now other than the "why am I the only one who does this?" and the "am I the only one who can change a roll around here?" thoughts that I have on a daily basis, I often get struck by pretty deep thoughts while cleaning the toilet. I don't know why! Maybe it's because I'm trying to distract myself from what I'm doing. Maybe it's a mindless task that I would rather not dwell on. Who knows.

But here's today's thought. What is the difference between a "woman" and a "lady?"

You see them used interchangeably all the time. "There was a woman behind me..." "There was this lady..." But I maintain that they are not the same thing. In my book "woman" is our gender but "lady" is a reflection on our behavior.

A lady uses a napkin; not her sleeve. A lady wipes her nose; not a honking blow. A lady doesn't curse in public and limits it in private. (I know a lot of you will take issue with that but that's my opinion and I'm entitled to it!). A lady is gracious and polite and uses tact.

Is there anything wrong with letting the "woman" out from time to time and letting a good sailor streak go? Absolutely not! I've had a few of those in the past few days. But I have to tell you; they weren't my crowning moments. Have I honked a time or two and in church at that? You bet your Puffs I have! Allergy season was probably in play at which point I don't care about anything but keeping my eyes from vacating my skull from the sinus pressure. Have I used my shirt tail to wipe a random face or nose? Absolutely but that's more "Mom" than anything else.

I'm just saying that there's a difference.

Oh! I forgot one...a lady puts the lid down!

I hate thinking!

It really sends me into a tailspin most times. Today's Thought from the Toilet Bowl.

What would my hubby do if something happened to me? And I wasn't even thinking big "something;" I was just thinking broken arm or leg "something."

He was home today. I tidied pretty much the whole house before he even got out of bed. That's kitchen, livingroom, 2 bathrooms, nursery and kids' room. I was on my way to the playroom when he poured his first cup of coffee and was done vacuuming and had started shampooing the carpet by the time he got out of the shower. 2 loads of laundry had been washed and all the children were fed, breakfast cleaned up and beds all made.

It was at this point that he asked what he could do to help. Really? You are offering to help? Wow!! I suggested that maybe he could get a rag and clean up the funk on the armchair and the chaise. Nah, I don't really know how to do that. Well, you could fold the laundry that is all over our bed. His look said, "Maybe in my next life when I come back as you."

So he went to the computer and started to read the news. Now don't get me wrong. I love my hubby and he works very hard for his home and his family. I wouldn't even dream of doing his job. My point is that he hasn't paid the first bill since 2003. He hasn't had all 3 children by himself for more than 3 hours without one of them napping. He hasn't done housework in the last 5 years and only did laundry while I was on vacation at my parents' because he ran out of boxers and t-shirts.

Now the problem here is that I blame myself. I am a workaholic and as such when I stopped working outside the home 16 months ago I had too much time on my hands. Therefore it was no problem to juggle everything and play little June Cleaver. But should anything even minor happen to me what would he do? Would he be able to manage getting everyone up and moving? Would he be able to juggle packing lunches and making dinner and changing diapers while taking out the trash and dressing a doll baby?

Or would I, workaholic that I am, figure out how to rig a garbage bag so that I could still wash the dishes, bathe the children and mop the kitchen floor without getting a cast wet? Would I type one handed to get all the bills paid? Would I rig up some elaborate system to get the laundry from point A to washer, dryer and done?

I guess the end question isn't "What would he do?" It's more "Would he HAVE to do anything?"

And that is your Thought from the Toilet Bowl.