Wednesday, July 25, 2012


*I have been making my family eat at the dinner table.  And not just eat at the table but talk at the table.  I set the table with place-mats and plates and napkins and I put the food on the table in nice bowls and we eat 'family-style' because we are a family.
Before we ate standing up and sitting down.  In front of the T.V. and all that other stuff they tell you not to do.  The very things that makes you anti-social and anti-family and anti-healthy: mind, body and soul.
Now that we eat at the table with food and talking I noticed my kitchen is cleaner and the dishes get done faster and we are all happier, better human beings because of it.  Mind.  Body. Soul.

*I hate talking about current events but lately current events have caused my very world to be sucky.  Mostly it's easy to say I hate people and people suck. Mostly it's easy not to see the good.  To develop this sort of apathy to the world around me.
 People are such strange creatures.  It's weirdly strange and strangely weird that we have a capacity to harbor so much evil and so much love in the same container.
I did this science experiment with the kids; in a bottle there is oil and water and food coloring and glitter and if you shake the bottle hard enough all the ingredients mix perfectly together and then they separate slowly.  The water goes to the bottom, the oil to the middle and the glitter to the top.
I think we humans are like that bottle with oil and water and glitter.  Shake us up enough and we all come together for a moment. We stay still and then we slowly go are own way.

*Mostly I know I can't make the whole world better.  I just have to start in the corner of my own.  Sometimes you have to start something somewhere.  And maybe it's running for President or standing on a podium screaming loud for all to hear.  Or maybe it's making a meal and sitting down to eat at a table with place-mats and food in nice bowls and talking and your family.   

Friday, July 20, 2012

i can has english

I like to go back and read my old post and see how terrible my grammar was and still is.  If it were not for the red squiggly line I'd be talking about my spelling too. My problem is I can't edit myself.  It's impossible.  Well not impossible just damn hard.  It's hard to be in my head and the word come out wrong and I can read it a hundred times and never catch a simple error like you're instead of your. And no one reads my blog much so no one says anything but I think it's because people don't want to be assholes and correct me.  My husband always corrects me, I equally love and hate him for that.  I use to say 'libary' until he corrected me.  And I was all like "Fuck you man I'll call it what ever I want to call it" so I call it a 'library' now.  You can be stubborn or you can be right and mostly I want to be right.  Being stubborn is highly overrated.  And now I hate everyone who never corrected my ignorance.  Every teacher and librarian.  That's their job to correct the ignorant.  Epic fail. 

Monday, July 16, 2012

So Emotional

I have an over-emotional daughter. This of course should come at no surprise, being that I am always a heartbeat away from some type of breakdown. I wear my heart on my sleeve.  Being a constant emotional being is a trait passed down on the mother's side, along with big breasts and stringy hair.
Passed mother to daughter who becomes a mother who passes it to her daughter.
You can say that it is all objective and because she is mine I might be over-critical.  I will tell you you are wrong.
I have witnesses.
One day my daughter was playing a few backyards away with friends, myself on my deck reading, sipping wine, listening to the play going on.  All of a sudden a heart-crushing tear filled scream.  I knew.  I rolled my eyes and prepared for the least.  My neighbors on the other hand were not prepared.  One came rushing out like a paramedic running to a five car pile-up the other left their towel draped naked toddler, who just got out of the bath, in his room.  Running, fear in their eyes.  Me, walking in, shaking my head apologizing already for my daughters break-down.
The problem:
Someone threw her water bottle.
 I apologized again and took my over-emotional, over-tired girl home and got her ready for a night in.
It's hard to deal with.  Emotions are tricky business.  What you do and how you do it stays. This is a life lesson and how she deals with it today will be how she will deal with it tomorrow.
When she's older and alone she will be tempted with other things that can make the pain go away.
Quick and easy.
Now I put her in her room to get it out and I put on Mary.  And when she comes down still wrapped tight in everything I tell her to dance.  Because Mary don't like tears.  Mary wants you to dance.
And we dance.
And then we talk.
Because even though she is over-emotional those emotions are still feelings and that counts for something.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Farts Legos and Edgar Allan Poe

*You think after Fart-Fest 2012 I'd stop eating dairy all together.  But I can't.  I try to limit it but every 'Taco Tuesday' rolls around and I am back at square one.  I already gave up the glut, I can't give up the lact too.
You'd think it be hard to give up gluten and flour and all the good things that come with it.  But it isn't.  I am more horrified to give up ice cream than I am a cookie.  I can deal with the chalky taste of a wheat-free cookie.  I can't deal with the after-taste of any soy ice cream.  What does this say about me?

*I helped my son build a Lego light house.  Correnction: My son helped me build a Lego light house.  Because we'd start it together and suddenly I looked over he was gone and I was still working on it.  Or he was at his friend's house and I was like "Oh I'll just do the next step for him."  And five steps later I am still working, yelling "Come on you little fuckers connect."

 You know you can't beat a kick ass Edgar Allan Poe poem  set to music, with BANJO...
I am sure some people will consider this sacrilege.  I consider it AWESOME.   

Tuesday, July 10, 2012


Jim Carrey humor with a heart of gold.
Happy birthday to my Nollie Pollie Ollie.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Weekly Stats

Kids: Happy
Reading: The Book Thief (Great)
Read: The Wilder Life (Wonderful)
Listening to:

Goals: Read. Write. Enjoy.

Score: Four stars

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Abortion Suckers

Did I shock you with that title?  Linked. and Baited.

I went to a small town parade this weekend, it was lovely.  Floats and bands and businesses and local politicians selling their wares, throwing candy at little children.  I can't sit through commercials on T.V. but for some reason I can watch them floating down the street handing me fliers as I sit in my foldable lawn chair.   Good times.  Good times.
 I am always a bit uncomfortable taking anything from people walking in parades, I don't like things forced on me, well except Tootsie Rolls. Tootsie Rolls and a estimate on roof repair.   Good thing there is always an over abundance of Tootsie Rolls and estimates at parades.  
This festive holiday parade gave me Tootsie Rolls and Flavor-Ices and estimates and VBS flyers and Abortion Suckers.
Little round lollipops handed out to adults and children with little baby feet on the sucker and a quote on the stick telling you that the little feet you are about to lick are that of a ten week old baby.  Great.  Sugar with a side of guilt.   
I took my sucker like a champ, handed over by some young girl.  A young girl too young to be handing out abortion suckers but just old enough to get an abortion.  If she needed it.  Not saying that she'd even consider it.  But sometimes you sing a different tune when you find yourself in a situation.
A situation that finds you:
*No support from your family.
*No support from your good for nothing 14 year old boyfriend

It's always different when you are IN it.  The thick of it.  Because one day you're the girl handing out Abortion Sucker and the next you're the girl feet up in stir-ups praying it will all just be okay.
And it will be okay.
Because these decisions aren't made by the stick of a sucker.  They are often made over tears and fear.  And hope.  Hope that it will all be okay.  One day.
It will be okay.


I never knew much about my Grandfather's job.  I knew he was a police officer.  A Sergeant on the Chicago Police Force.  When he came ho...