Random Ramblings of an Agnostic Mom

An Agnostic Episode

2015-04-21T10:39:00.000-05:00

Almost daily you will hear people around you pray for some sort of healing. "My dad is sick...my baby is sick...etc." I don't understand how a god that can heal you allowed you to get sick in the first place.
Recently, my mother and I conversed about this topic and she brought up the idea of freewill. I explained to her that it is beyond my scope of understanding how god, a "father", would allow his child to be ill in the first place when he has the power to cure the sickness. I went a step further and said that the children that are in homes sustaining abuse do not have the freewill to stop the horrors that take place within their walls. To them it is normal, it is life.
I'm sure someone will think me horrible for saying these things, but hey, that has never stopped me before...
I believe that god is a dead beat dad (if he exists at all). He's not around. We are basically left to our own devices. I cannot kneel before a deity and beg him to do what is right and just.
Another thing you hear frequently is "god has a plan." Nobody knows that plan...it is a top secret plan but it involves children being born into poverty, abuse, and neglect. One thing that incites people is learning that someone is fucking with a kid yet it happens over in over again and god seems to just turns the other way. God allows these things to happen all day, everyday and no one bats an eye. This is not a god whom I want to have a relationship. If he were a human standing before us, we'd all want him locked up but because he is a "deity" his behavior is justified and overlooked. Stop making excuses for him!

I know many will take offense to these statements but please understand. I have no desire to pass judgement on anyone. If your faith makes you feel complete by all means carry on. I am simply stating the things that I have trouble comprehending when it comes to deities. Unfortunately, my upbringing is influenced the most by Christianity. I have only read about other religions to try to understand my own personal path in life. I have yet to find one that feels right for me.
I would like to think that if judgement day ever happens, god would sit down with me, have a beer (or glass of wine), and explain to me all the things my constant questioning of existence failed to allow me to find.
To my friends and loved ones: when my days start to slip from reach, do not pray for me. Sit beside me, hold my hand, stroke my face. Tell me about a memory we shared. Maybe that will be the memory that brings a smile across my lips as I fade away into the nothing.

Bet You Weren't Expecting Me...

2015-03-07T00:12:00.000-06:00

Miss me? Damn right, you did!

In my hiatus, I have:

· survived my husband’s deployment (I use the term “survived” EXTREMELY liberal, of course.)
· gotten a full time job at a home improvement establishment (currently, I am slinging appliances.)
· stepped down as leader of my daughter’s Girl Scout troop (my baby girl is growing up, *sniffle*.)
· and also, managed to forgive a few people who didn’t deserve my forgiveness (however, I deserved the freedom from the hate stewing inside of me.)

Picture found here

Now that I got you all caught up, we can proceed to my regularly scheduled shenanigans…

Oh, how I miss the days I was a lady of leisure. Recently, I was sick with strep throat and remembered (between my fevered bouts of delirium) how much I missed being home. Today was my first day back to work in nearly a week. While I enjoy the people I work with and the work that I do, I sometimes want to tell the general public to suck an egg.

Anyone out there that has ever worked with the public, especially in retail, knows EXACTLY what I mean. Some people can be so awful. You are probably thinking I am referring to those folks that yell and scream. While I consider those people to be rather difficult, the breed of customer I loathe the most would have to be the ones who have no regard for a retail worker as a human being…mainly the ones that talk over you. I HATE that!

Last week, this middle age couple came in. I hereby dub them Mr. & Mrs. Magoo. I greeted them like I would any customer and asked if I could help them. They said they had some questions about a particular dishwasher.

Picture found here

Mr. Magoo asked questions about every single possible detail of the appliance. “Ummm, yeah…are the screws that bolt the handle galvanized stainless steel? Who invented the first dishwasher? What is your mother’s maiden name???” Of course, I knew the answers (and even if I didn’t I can sure as hell make it sound like I do, *wink wink*). So I proceed to answer and as I get a few words into my response to Mr. Magoo’s extensive shake-down, the ever so lovely Mrs.Magoo interrupts me to ask me her own questions WHICH SHE ALSO ANSWERS!!! Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Magoo, would you like me to go away so you can sell your own appliance to yourself. Shit people! Why didn’t you just order it online??

Picture found here

It’s no secret that I attract crazy people. I don’t know if I make them feel at ease or maybe they are just attracted to their own kind. I can deal with crazy. I find it entertaining but, rude is beyond my scope of tolerance.

Today, I had the pleasure of dealing with this woman who needed help with a washer. For the life of me, I cannot understand why someone would ask you a question and then try to convince you that you are wrong. Standing in front of two washers, she asks me which one has a larger capacity. I show her which one is bigger (seriously, by .1 cubic foot) and she proceeds to disagree with me. She says, “Look in here. This one is bigger.” I try to contain my annoyance and try to explain to her that it is not even a cubic foot difference. She continues to insist that I look inside the tub. At this point, I felt that I needed to humor her in order to move along in the sale so I agree that it looks larger by telling her that that the tub is wider but more shallow. It seemed logical.

Dealing with her was the least of the problem. Shortly after, her friend walked up.

Guys, her friend knew everything about everything! In hindsight, I should have asked for the secret to universe. I’m serious! Anything that the customer would ask me, the friend would chime in with her own two cents. Once again, I hate to be interrupted but, more so, I hate to be interrupted with inaccurate information. I just don’t have the patience to deal with the Kanyes of the world today or anyday for that matter.

Picture found here

This rambling is done for now. When you are out and about consuming and contributing to the economy, please remember that the guy mixing your paint, the girl behind the cash register, the lady taking your order, and the man working the customer service desk are fucking human beings. Treat them as such. If you can’t go into an establishment and show basic common courtesy, do us a favor and stay home and order your shit online.

Picture found here

Fantastic Friday Five #12

2012-03-23T20:12:00.000-05:00

In celebration of a gloriously beautiful Friday, I decided it was time for another Fantastic Friday Five. So here I am for some wonderful sharing...

1.) I have learned even in the country, I am not safe from people knocking on my door soliciting their religion. I've considered putting a sign in the yard that says "Not interested in converting." I also thought of just blatantly posting a sign stating that an agnostic/atheist lives here but I figured if some local farmer's cow gets found slaughtered in the pasture they'll be knocking on our door first. Stupid bible belt!

2.) We have decided on a vacation destination for when my husband returns for this round of leave. We narrowed it down to Yellowstone, Yosemite, and Grand Canyon and then we let the kids make the final choice. We are going to visit the Grand Canyon. I have already made all of the necessary reservations including a smooth water float trip down the Colorado River.
Since my husband and I are planning this all in different time zones, I have devised a power point complete with a time line to keep him up to date. I'm sure many people think that is anal as all hell but I just like thinks to flow. When they don't, I get anxious and then I feel like I'm all irritated and ruining everyone's fun. So you see? This is all for the best. You don't want to see me on CNN as the lady who tossed her children AND husband over the side of the canyon, do you? DO YOU???
My husband, being ex-military and still working with the government, loves that I plan everything out. He's accustomed to frequent power points. We always do this for big events and/or adventures...and by "we" I mean "me". His contribution to this...he wants me to locate "Holiday Road" on i-tunes so we can listen to that along the trip because every family vacation should be jammed to in style just like the Griswold's. Maybe I should also try to rent the Wagon Queen Family Truckster for that authentic Griswold feel.

I guess we can hope that my husband doesn't end up running around deliriously with pants on his head.

3.) This school year I have been co-leading my daughter's Girl Scout troop. I LOVE working with the girls more than I thought I would. Dealing with the parents? Not so much. It seems like no matter how many different ways you put out the information (a paper copy in their hand, a text message, an email, posted to the troop's Facebook page) someone is going to say "Nobody told me about that...I didn't know." I swear it is enough to beat my head against a wall.
We recently finished cookie sales. THANK GOODNESS! Our troop sold 6500 boxes. My daughter's share of that was 765 boxes and, man, did she hustle.

4.) This season of The Walking Dead is over. That makes me sad. Season 3 needs to hurry up for two reasons A.) The hooded woman at the end of the season 2 finale is the most bad ass character thus far in the graphic novels. B.) The show's creators, clever little bastards that they are, also allowed us a glimpse of the prison in the horizon which can only mean that the introduction of a villain no one will ever forget shouldn't be too far behind. I already have Volume 16 of the graphic novels preordered. It is set to release mid June. That should hold me for about an hour...

5.) Lately, I've been wondering if I am going to have to use the safe room for it's intended purpose. We've had some nasty weather the past few days. Fingers crossed we don't blow away.

Bonus: For those that have been reading for awhile you know my history with owls. The mascot for the school my children started this school year is, in fact, an owl. How ironic is that?
Enjoy your weekend! I know I will!

Somewhere In The Middle

2012-02-15T16:45:00.000-06:00

Half of the time, I can’t remember the things I dream. It seems like when I do remember them I’d wish I didn’t. Yesterday was one of those days. Maybe I watch too many horror movies or maybe I am just a disturbed person. My dreams have been imbedded into my head. What’s worse is they are happening in the state of sleep paralysis (half asleep/half awake) which can be outright terrifying.

Yesterday, I was feeling exhausted around two in the afternoon. I decided to lie down and take a nap before the kids came home from school. I’m sure it was the snow that had crept into Oklahoma recently that made me feel so sleepy. I curled up into the bed and nuzzled under the covers. I dreamed I was taking a nap and woke up. In my bedroom, there was an attic door on the ceiling that had been pulled down with the door extended. In reality, there is only access to the attic up the stairs and it is a walk in attic.

In the dream, I was only slightly alarmed by the open attic. I climbed out of bed and in my living room there was another attic on the ceiling with the ladder extended. In the dining room, it was the same thing only the ladder had been broken into pieces on the floor. The hallway closet was open. It was the open closet that made my heart start to race.

I picked up my cellphone and dialed 911. The operator was an idiot who I repeatedly gave my address to over and over again. It was as if I was on a three-way call with the 911 operator and the police department. I pleaded for them to send someone to my house and stated that someone is in here with me.

As I am pleading for them to help me, everything in my house turns on almost as if the electricity had been out. The fans are spinning at their highest speeds. The televisions and radios are all blaring loudly. All of the lights came on at the same time. At this point I look down the hallway and I noticed my son’s door begin to open and a shadow creeps out into the hallway. I take off back towards my bedroom and into my closet where the safe room is located. I make it into the room and slam the door behind me. I manage to lock it as whoever it is stands on the other side trying to turn the knob. I can see a shadow underneath the door.

Then I wake up, fully alert. My heart is pounding in my chest. I look at the clock and only about a half an hour has passed since I first laid in the bed. Yeah, nap time was over.

Later that night after I sent the kids to bed, I climbed into my bed around 10:30pm. I dreamed I woke up again and the bathroom door and closet doors were open. Immediately, I felt startled. I never sleep with doors open. I heard whispering all around me and one by one I started to see these cloud-like, smoky images in front of me. They appeared to have facial features and it looked as though they were whispering. I tried to climb out of the bed but I was tangled in the covers. I knew I was dreaming and was trying to get myself to wake up. The whispers felt as if they were getting louder and louder.

I woke with a jolt and all at once there was silence. I glanced over at the clock and thirty minutes had passed yet again.

Am I saying my house is haunted? Not at all. I do think something is weighing on my subconscious though. Maybe I am being haunted by something like my own failure. Who really knows though, right? Maybe I just watch to many horror movies…

You Know It's Time To Blog When...

2011-09-27T13:02:00.000-05:00

Do you know how long it has been since I posted here? Try all summer long. I know many of you are blaming my children and have probably plotted having them kidnapped. Believe me it wasn't just having them home for the summer that made blogging difficult. I have taking on a mission to keep myself busy during my husband's absence. Here are a few things that I did and/or currently doing:

I located a house I liked and got my husband's stamp of approval via email. With my power of attorney in hand, I closed on the house. So, now when I fill out surveys I get to check "own home" instead of "rent". That's bad ass!

The kids are doing all sorts of activities in addition to scouts. The boy is enrolled in both gymnastics and kung fu. His dream of being a professional wrestler is at his fingertips. My girl child is doing gymnastics and we are getting ready to sign her up for horseback riding as well.

I have joined a gym. It is time to get my fat ass moving. My husband is out there getting his desert sexy on, making me look bad. We can't have that now, can we?

This is just scratching the surface. I have learned from previous deployments that too much downtime leads to depression. I have decided instead to keep busy and just embrace my anxiety.

The house alone is keeping me busy. Since we have moved out to the country, I can read my zombie books in peace knowing that the country folks usually live longer for the simple fact that there are less people to turn into zombies. See? Living 30 minutes from the nearest Wal-Mart is a good thing. Now if we have an outbreak of zombie cows, I'm screwed.

Deviant Art

In the meantime, I'm trying to get into a groove of blogging again and I'm sure I will attain one soon. After all, the children are back in school but I had to spend the first weeks running around the house naked waving my freedom flag. It was glorious.

Don't worry though. I will be back again soon. I knew it was time to blog again when I started dreaming about it. Of course, in my dream my ramblings were much more entertaining...and I was skinnier.

I Ain't Skeered!

2011-06-13T21:51:00.001-05:00

Don't worry. You're children are safe.

This agnostic mom goes on a lot of adventures and I manage to get myself into some awkward spots. The latest adventure involves me agreeing to be a co-leader to my daughter’s Brownie Girl Scout troop.

…

Yeah, I’ll pause so you can soak that in and say a prayer, light a candle or do whatever it is that you people do when you want to save a child’s soul.

…

Over the weekend, I was able to go on an excursion to Oklahoma City for an overnight training session. I knew ahead of time I would be staying at the Catholic Pastoral Center. I joked with my friend, Julia that I’d probably be struck by lightning or something.

We were assigned to our room. It was still daylight but the hallway was sparsely lit even with the glass exit door and sidelights at the end of the way. The room had two twin size beds with white linens and your grandma’s quilt. There was a small desk with a set of towels and a few bars of soap. In one corner was am old sink with a mirror above it. In the other corner was a closet with a hideous metal chest of drawers inside of it. Between those two was a doorway that led to the bathroom that we shared with the other room. The highlight of the room was the depressing crucifix on the wall.

I'm sure under that white paint is some pea soup stains.

Yes, I said it. Crucifixes ARE freaking depressing. Why on earth would anyone want to look at that gruesome image all day long? I suppose that the symbol is to remind the flock of the sacrifice that Jesus made but c’mon. Isn’t that picture of him looking all pretty just as good? Doesn’t the faith remind you of what he did every Sunday? Or at the very least the cross itself minus the dead guy seems like it would get the point across.

I get it. Some people believe he died for them but the dead guy image is still just a tad disturbing. If a mother died in childbirth, how appropriate would it be for her child to mount something on the wall of the dead mother all sweaty and bloody in a hospital bed. Or should said child just wear a golden uterus?

I’m convinced religion makes you weird. Period.

To prepare myself for this adventure, I watched The Exorcist, Rite, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, and The Last Exorcism. I told Julia it was just in case she got possessed and I needed to be able to exorcise her. I believe in being prepared.

GAH!

Anyway, back to the retreat…

Before everything started, Julia and I made a sweep of the building taking mental notes of which hallways looked the creepiest. It seemed that the wing we were in was the oldest. It had a musty mildew smell that crept into your nose and then Chuck Norrised you in the throat. As we trekked down hallways, we found a room full of books for the clergy such marriage, marriage counseling, being married to a homosexual, and many more interesting topics. I looked for one on exorcism. No luck.

There was a wine tasting. We were limited to two taste tickets which resulted in me trying to hustle more from anyone who would listen. Eventually I just bought a bottle of Pinot Noir from the wine vendor and proceeded to create my own evening itinerary in my head.

What? I was thirsty.

The first day wasn’t too bad. Dinner was catered. It was decent, nothing fancy. We attended a class that was roughly two hours long and we got Girl Scout “swag”. I love free shit and the majority was actually useful. We were able to have our room switched to one on the upper floor in a different wing where we had our own bathroom instead of having to share with the room next door.

Ok. Maybe I was zapped by some lightning in the ass. I guess I've got so much cushion, I didn't even notice.

Later, we had a meeting with other ladies in our area in one of their rooms. She managed to snag herself a suite complete with a sitting area. Wine bottles were uncorked making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It was nice. It made my surroundings more tolerable. After the hen house party dissipated and we went to our rooms, Julia and I decided it was time to be…

Wait for it…

Ghost hunters. Yes, bad ass mamma jamma ghost hunters! So we roamed the hallways with our cameras snapping pictures of dark hallways,

This was snapped with no flash. Many of the hallways looked like this.

old lady furniture,

This decor was scary all by itself. All it's missing is a bowl of hard candy from 1952.

creepy staircases,

This was with the flash. Apprently, they were conserving energy by turning off most of the lights.

and each other acting like total morons.

I ain't skeered!

At least I'm not the only one not afraid to make an ass of myself for the sake of fun.

All the while I was humming the 007 theme music. Our mission was to go down to the basement which ended up being completely disappointing because it looked just like the rest of the place only the mildew reeked more than the upper floors.

See? Rain.

Outside it was storming making the dark hallways all the more delightful many times reminding me of scenes from the movie Gothika.

We were lucky enough to learn that a few days after us the Legion of Mary Ass would be using the facility. We found the letter “M” for “mass” on the floor under the board. I snapped a picture and Julia fixed it.

There's a legion in there. Poor lady.

It seems my interesting humor does not go unnoticed because the next day I found out that everyone in our group assumed it was me that made it that way in the first place. I’m shocked. Blame the heathen.

After we returned to our room, we were overcome with a craving for a slushy…a yummy, delicious, icy slushy. I looked out the window over the rooftops at the pouring torrential rain and turned to Julia and said, “It’s just misting.” I must have been pretty convincing because within minutes we were creeping downstairs. We discovered the lobby gates were pulled down in the same fashion as a store in the mall would to protect its wares. We found the nearest exit. We were smart enough to check the door to make sure they didn’t lock behind us. The downstairs door leading outside would have locked so we decided against our slushy adventure. Boo!

How sad...

Before bed, we checked under each other’s bed…you know, just to be sure. The beds were so much tinier than I am used to. I had to be mindful so I didn’t fall out of it when I moved around in my sleep. At one point during the night, I was tempted to flip the cross over just to freak Julia out in the morning but I decided against it. Some people just don’t get my humor. When it comes to religion people tend to get a little uptight.

6:30 in the morning is just an ungodly time for any sane person to be awake. At least they fed us.

Breakfast of Champions! Word!

What makes it even worse is sitting in a three hour lecture listening to shit that is basically common sense. The speaker actually insisted on leading us through guided imagery. I nearly fell asleep. I thought it was a horrible, HORRIBLE idea considering she was attempting to take some people back to when they were eight. There were actually women crying around me. All I could think was someone is diving into some dark ass memories. I’m not playing that game.

Do what you have to do to pass the time.

Sometime during all this mind numbing boringness, my partner in crime Julia says she is “going to the bathroom” which was code for “I am going to the other conference room so I can find out what next year’s mystery cookie is”. A few moments later, I get picture mail from another lady in the next conference room asking if I’m missing someone.

Three hours! That’s how long the first class lasted. It was torture. It felt like the part in the movie Zoolander when Derek Zoolander is held captive at the “day spa” by Mugatu who subjects him to extensive audio visual torture...only I wasn’t lucky enough to actually watch something. I got to listen to some woman drone on and on like Ben Stien’s character from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only person bored stupid. When I went to the bathroom at one point, I saw a girl on her laptop playing World of Warcraft. Later an older lady tripped over the laptop cord causing a big scene. Too bad it was AFTER we sat in there for most of the morning. It would have been a welcomed diversion halfway through when I was on the verge of chewing off my own arm just to entertain myself.

You know it's bad when you can't get up.

We attended a few more sessions, which by comparison were only 30 minutes to an hour so they went by stupid fast. When four o’clock rolled around, I was itching to leave. The drive home was interesting. Someone and I won’t name names (Julia) kept falling asleep. Good thing I was driving or we may not have made it home.

Word!

Now I’m back in my part of Oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plains just to ass rape my hair. Let’s recap for my believer friends out there. Everyone’s favorite agnostic mom stepped foot on holy ground and my feet didn’t sizzle. I was not struck by lightning nor was an exorcism necessary. Although there were a few times when I could have sworn some of the popes in the large portraits lining the hallways were totally checking me out.

In unrelated news, I should point out to my readers (and any potential readers out there) it’s summer. Don’t expect too much from me. My kids keep me busy and we got a lot of traveling in our future. I’ll be around. You've been warned.

I'm Around...You Just Can't See Me

2011-06-03T13:30:00.000-05:00

As most of you know already, Blogger and I are not getting along. My commenting is thrown all off whack. It’s not letting me log in to leave comments…even on my OWN blogs. I have to take the time to manually type my name and URL in yet I remain faceless. Some of your blogs won’t even let me do that much!

It’s also very finicky about when it allows me to make posts. Thank goodness I use Microsoft Word to write my posts or they’d be lost forever in Blogger limbo. When I hit “publish”, sometimes it takes me back to the log in page. It’s a big ol’ mess. I had a lovely post for my anniversary on May 25 but Blogger was being a butt and after trying numerous times to post it I gave up.

Damn you, Blogger Demon!!

Rest assured though, I am around the blogosphere but I am silenced. I’m like a ninja all up on your page. I’ve actually been spending a lot of time hanging around this new blog collaboration which is named, simply ::snicker::, Fabulous Atypical Ramblings of Nuclear Cheese. If you clicked that link, I’m sorry but you can’t get those minutes you wasted back. They’re gone! Forever!
To answer everyone’s most pressing question, yes your votes made me number one in May Concours d' Cuisine but apparently there is another round to the contest. You guys know how I am when it comes to rules and shit. K over at Big K, Little a has final say over who wins. I am in the final three. Now I have to wait on K to make all three dishes to see which one tickles her taste buds more. In the meantime, I’m going to join the June contest but I’m not going to fight to be number one again…just final three.

Whipping Out The Big Guns

2011-05-24T09:11:00.000-05:00

I'll make this brief. I am in a contest...a battle of kitchens, if you will. I'm neck and neck with another contestant battling for first place. I NEED your votes. Whip out your pcs, your smartphones, Ipads, ANYTHING that has interent access and vote for my Yummy Banana Cake.

I do not lose gracefully, people. I'm a sort of a sore loser.

Also, bambi eyes...

How can you say no? You can't. If you can, it means you are a cruel jerk that kicks kittens and puppies, slaps babies, and punches old people. I'm just saying!

So, to prove to everyone you aren't a big meanie pants please visit Big K Little a and vote. The poll is located on the left hand side of the page. Please cast your vote for my Yummy Banana Cake. When I win, I will give all of my supporters a slice.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow, It Burns When I Pee

2011-05-22T20:15:00.001-05:00

A few of you out there recognize true awesomeness when you see it. Then there are the rest of you that seem to have a warehouse of blog awards that you pass around like STDs at a frat party. Ironically, I was given an STD recently and, no, it did not involve cheating on my husband. And before you say, “Gee, Asha, I didn’t know you could get STDs from your vibrator,” I must warn you all. You are NOT safe. This STD was contracted through the blogosphere! Jewel over at Really?! Wait! What? and I are apparently getting a little too close and now I have a damn STD with no cure. No, it isn’t herpes or even AIDS. Jewel gave me…the Sexy & Talented Diploma.

As with all blog awards, there are rules. However, this one had an interesting meme that makes me want to infect as many of you as possible, mainly because the bulk of you have the creative brain power to rock this shit.

Rules:

1. Make up ONE totally ridiculous story about yourself that is a complete rip-off from a movie. It can be as long or short as you want; clean or crass as you want.

2. Pass it on to whomever you feel is deserving of this STD – or accept it and keep it for yourself; it’s your blog – it’s your choice.

3. If you choose to accept this STD, please link your acceptance post back to the person who gave you your STD. I was also supposed to link it to some other site but, well, you know me and rules. Check out Jewell’s acceptance speech…err, confession if you need more information. She obviously follows rules better than me.

Please turn off your cellphones. Remove all crying children. Be sure you have your overly priced popcorn and soda.

Now for your feature presentation:

Living in the suburbs of Oklahoma, I took many things for granted. Even though everything wasn’t always black and white, it was always a shade of gray at best. That is until that fateful day when a twister sucked me up and spit me out in a strange land of color. It’s possible I was raptured but it’s unlikely.

Seems I sat on one lady with interesting socks and killed her. The land of midgets didn’t mind. Apparently, she was a kind of a jerk anyway. They warned me of her sister who was an uber bitch. They feared she would probably try to kick my ass at some point to avenge her sister. I shrugged it off and asked the mayor what they did for fun around there and by fun I meant where could I get drunk.

After knocking back a few, this ugly chick showed up. There wasn’t beer goggles thick enough to make her look hot. She was running her mouth about…I don’t really know. I wasn’t listening. I was trying to get my hands on one of those large lollipops.

I decided the only way to get this woman to shut her yapping would be to get her a drink or two. I snagged a couple of beers and figured the two us could take a stroll down the yellow brick road and have us a nice little chitty chat.

Well, being the klutz that I am, I ended up tripping over my own two damn feet. Both beers flew out of my hand and spilled all over that lady. If I said she wasn’t happy, I’d be cheating you from the over dramatic wailing she was doing. She was hooting and hollering something fierce about how the world was so horrible and she was melting or something. She ended up a hot green gunky mess right there on the yellow brick road. Good thing those little midgets used Bounty, the quicker picker upper, because I only needed one sheet to soak that wicked bitch up.

These little guys knew how to party. Regardless of how much fun I was having, I couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to go home. Luckily, this fabulous little neurotic who really liked pink showed up and reminded me I had awesome shoes that could pretty much get me anywhere as long as I didn’t kick her dog with them.

I also met a stickman with an interesting vocabulary that was running for president, a night owl who gave himself nuclear headaches over his interest in scatology, and an atypical primate who owned a seedy motel.

I’m not sure which of my new friends it was but one of them (probably the primate) suggested that I just keep drinking and that would get me home. I must have passed out at some point. I woke up the next morning in a random motel room with a nuclear sized headache surrounded by naked midgets and crudely drawn campaign posters. My shoes were missing and I’m going to assume that there is a neurotic strutting her stuff fabulously in Texas somewhere. Next time, I’ll avoid taking advice from a primate.

The End

In case, you haven’t guessed it. I’m sharing my STD with these guys (and gal):
Bryan of Notes From A Night Owl, Nuclear Headache, and My Brown Log
Scott of Atypical Read and Tales From A Motel
Chanel of Fabulously Neurotic
Doug of I Like Cheese and Made Up Words
You can also find short quips of wisdom from this bunch over at Fabulous Atypical Headaches of Third Shift Cheese.

Now that they have all been infected, I have faith that this motley crew will not hold back in the entertainment department.

Also, Bryan bestowed an additional award on me…one that involves NO RULES! In a way, I’m relieved. I don’t think my brain could handle another set today.

Thanks again to Jewel for lathering me up with your blog cooties and thanks Bryan for withholding your torture this time. You guys are great!

Lastly, if you guys love me...I mean, REALLY love me you'll go vote for my banana cake. The poll is on the left hand side of the page.

I Lost My Boarding Pass

2011-05-22T00:31:00.001-05:00

My agnostic mind, although relieved the rapture did not transpire, was intrigued to say the least of the miniscule possibility of people “disappearing”. Last night, I laid awake thinking about how awful it would be since my husband was on the other side of the planet. How would he get to us?

To say I have an over-active imagination would be an understatement. My mind journeyed through scenario after scenario. I’m the queen of the “what ifs”. Sometimes I wonder why I haven’t locked myself in a closet somewhere.

I called my mother and basically said, “Look. Although I think this is a crock of shit, I wanted to tell you good-bye… just in case I’m wrong.” As an agnostic, I do not claim to know what others are sure about.

As I said, I laid in bed thinking about how things would play out. I thought about if this god decided to take his flock and leave behind the rest of us how angry I would be if he didn’t take my children. What an asshole that would make him to punish the innocent because of my choices and beliefs…or lack thereof.

Also, I wondered what would happen to society. Would we crumble? Obviously something as major as the rapture would change life as we know it. That’s a no brainer but would civilization itself fail to exist? Would we live in a state of post “apocalyptica”…all because some “sheep” disappeared?

Then…of course…my brain turned to zombies. Shocking, right? Me? Zombies?

I thought about if just the souls of the “sheep” were raptured what exactly would be left behind? Lifeless bodies? Rotting corpses? Would these “souls” merely be the thing that makes us human in the first place? Would the rapture of these souls leave behind the living dead, violent…without any remorse? After all if those of us left behind are to be punished and tormented until the grand finale of existence than that would sure be how I’d fuck with folks if I was this god people are so set on selling their souls to.

That’s another thing…the concept of being “left behind” is ludicrous to me. Why would a god after mercilessly torturing his strayed flock allow them to still “accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior” to avoid eternal damnation? Does that sound stupid to anyone else? I mean, holy fuck! Who in their right mind would choose NOT to believe at that point?????? So, in other words…regardless of how you live this life post rapture you still get to go to heaven. You may just need to deal with a few minor setbacks like some plagues and shit.

Now some people are demanding a public apology from a one Harold Camping who started this rapture nonsense. I guess I’d feel the same way if I shared similar beliefs. If I was a believer…especially if I was one of his followers I’d be pissed. Some people took this nonsense as gospel. As with anything, you’ve got your coo coo banana heads that take a small slice of crazy pie and turn it into a whole freaking bakery like this loco broad.

I leave you with this. It seems appropriate.

And if you would be so kind as to show me a little love that would be superb.

Crazy Lazy...Or Just Crazy

2011-05-20T21:19:00.000-05:00

To say I’ve been lazy would be an unfair statement. Yes, I’ve been neglecting my blog but I’ve had good reason. Apparently, the school board over planned their extreme weather days for this school year so there are days left over. Instead of letting the kids out of school a few days early they have decided to give them shorter weeks and longer weekends until summer vacation starts. That means that my normal Friday morning posting is interrupted by having to, you know, do parenting stuff.

All and all, May has just been crazy so far and it isn’t over yet that’s for sure. School and scouting are both coming to a close for summer. My daughter has had her weekends jam packed with things to do for scouting. Her troop has been spending their cookie earnings on all sort of different activities for the girls. They were able to go to Nations of Fun which is this Chuck E. Cheese’s sort of place. While the kids played, I ran around snapping pictures as usual.

Later, one mother was telling me about the problem the place used to have with pedophiles. I was like, “Oh great! You tell me this now! I was chasing kids up in the climby-thing with my camera. No wonder I was getting dirty looks.” Of course, it may have to do with the fact that I’m white and the place is run by the Comanche Nation.

Who can really know?

Another place we went was to Build-A-Bear Workshop. I had never been there before and I wish I could have stayed away. Imagine if you will a small store in a mall filled with at least twenty little girls between the ages of 3 and 12…squealing, giggling, whining. My anxiety was on red alert! Visions of Xanax and beer danced in my head.

The concept of the store is clever. You personalize your own little stuffed animal for a retarded amount of money. I wish I’d have come up with that ingenious idea. Each girl received a $50 gift card to spend, compliments of the cookie money profit. My daughter picked out a gray cat. She wanted a black one which she was going to name Darth Vader but since they didn’t have black she got a gray one and named it Elizabeth after her Aunt Liz. I swear one extreme to the next.

The toy was $16 all by itself. That price included the stuffing, a heart to go inside, and a birth certificate. However, the store is filled to the rafters with clothing and accessories for your furry friends.

You could choose to have your “friend” say something. For instance if she wanted hers to purr, there were small sound pouches you would slide into the toy before it was stuffed and when it was squeezed it would make the desired sound. OF course, there was a hefty $10 charge on that. You could also get a beating heart instead of the one that came with the toy…another $5. I managed to talk her out of these by telling her that she wouldn’t have enough money to get the clothes and accessories she wanted. It didn’t take much prodding at all.

Next we moved on to the clothes and such. She ended with this sparkly cotton candy-ish dress, complete with shoes, a crown, and even a septor. After she dressed her toy and ripped off the price tags, she found a Darth Vader costume! She didn’t have enough for it. I must have asked her at least five times, “Are you sure you don’t want to look around the whole store first before you make up your mind?” She decided that since she had already decided to name it Elizabeth she had to dress it like her REAL Aunt Liz.

Then she informed me that we would just have to come back another time so she could create Darth Vader. Oh…of course. Lucky me!

The troop also paid for the girls to attend the science museum in Oklahoma City.

We had gone when my parents visited so I didn’t feel too bad when we left a little early. My son was staying over at a friend’s house and I didn’t want him to outstay his welcome. So we dipped out around 3:30pm. The drive back is like an hour and thirty minutes.

My daughter also received all of her patches she earned for this year. I’m going to have to consider getting her a vest. Her sash cannot hold all of the patches she managed to snag this year.

The girl scouts hooked my son up as well. As a thank you for all of the hard work he did during the cookie sales, they gave him $20 AND a $30 Wal-Mart gift card. I told him next year; maybe he won’t bitch as much.

To reward my daughter and the other western Oklahoma Girl Scouts who sold 600+ boxes of cookies, we were invited to go to a local camp for a day of fun. Yours truly actually acquired a tan. That's right! I am no longer pasty white, of course, you don't want to see my ass but at least my legs aren't glowing anymore.

The kids were able to go on a scavenger hunt throught the camp. The camp pool sprung a leak a few days before so we weren't able to go swimming. There was a massive lake but the kids were only able to wade about knee deep in it...better than nothing, I guess.

I managed to snag some good nature shots while we were out there too.

Everything hasn't revolved around Girl Scouts. The kids' school held their annual carnival which happened to be the same day as the girl child's girl scout awards. I allowed the boy to go with a friend and I'd meet him there. Upon arriving, I discovered that he was the lucky recipent of a two liter of freaking Mountain Dew.

I gave him a WTF look and his response was simple, "But I already opened it!"

How convient!

My daughter played a few games...then she spotted...the...horses. That was it. We spent the rest of the carnival riding the My Little Ponies over and over again.

Later that night, I allowed my son's buddy to stay over. Throughout the night, I found my sleep being interupted by loud video games and such to which I would scream from my bedroom, "GO TO BED!" In the morning, I found the ENTIRE bottle of Dew was gone! I'm sure the boys had pinwheels in their eyes for most of the night.

Still to come in a later post…the boy’s crossover ceremony from cub scouts to boy scouts, his promotion ceremony from elementary school to middle school, the last day of school, the beginning of the summer, AND most importantly the rapture…yes, the rapture. Don't worry. My little agnostic slice of a blog will still be here on Sunday. I'll be preparing for the zombie apocalyspe. I made sure to call my hypo-Christian mother to tell her goodbye. I've got to get my ducks in a row.

So you read it here first…all of my bullshit excuses for neglecting my blog. However, lucky for me Scott still loves me and I'm off now to read his zombie post, followed by a pity party for being left out of this.

Oh and just in case Doug wants to be a smart ass again and has any snarky comments about forgetting to post my bowel movements...here you go...

Fantastic Friday Five #11

2011-05-06T13:35:00.000-05:00

It’s Friday! Friday! And just so we are clear, Saturday, Saturday is tomorrow and Sunday comes after. Days of the week provided to you by Rebecca Black. “We so excited!” Here’s another Fantastic Friday Five to celebrate this glorious day.

1.) It is official! Both kids are registered for their choice of summer camp. The girl will be attending Girl Scout camp for a week and the boy will be off to NASA’s Space Camp. He’s wanted to go ever since we visited back in October when we took the infamous bus excursion.

2.) Today I attended an assembly at the children’s school. The school earned the Great Expectations Model School Award. I found out that not only are they one of 70 schools in the nation that received this award but this is also the fifth year in a row that they have been presented with it. Oklahoma state representative, Ann Coody, attended to congratulate the students, teachers, and staff.

Hooray for educational funding!!

3.) I got a text this morning from my husband letting me know he is thinking about quitting his job and coming back home. Apparently, they think he’s Superman. I had to remind him that he is.

What seems to be happening is that in his awesomeness, he has showed his higher ups that he is capable of doing the job of three people. So, as most companies would have it they would love for you to do the work of three and be paid for one. He said at every other FOB there are three guys doing what he’s doing. I’m feeling mixed about the thought of him coming home so soon. On one hand I want him to be happy and I’d love for him to be home with us again. On the other hand though, the thought of him coming back to no job scares the hell out of me. I’ve been so focused on paying off debt that I haven’t set anything aside. We do have his 401K to fall back on but it will only last a few months at the most. Deeeeeep breaths…or Xanax…maybe both.

4.) I discovered this week that I SUCK at making meatloaf. Every single time I attempt it I fuck it up. Awhile back when I made it, the meat was still raw in the inside. Yuck! This time I added either too much liquid or not enough bread crumbs and it came out looking like something you’d dump out of a dog food can…just with chopped bell peppers in it. I tried to fool my kids into thinking it was something good by pairing it with loaded baked potatoes and seasoned broccoli but there was no fooling them.

I suppose we are all entitled to a screw up from time to time. It’s just that cooking is a necessary hobby and I pride myself on getting it right. For things I don’t suck at making, look here.

5.) Knock, knock. Who’s there?

Why, it’s another Jehovah’s Witness at my door to give me this.

Apparently, these people have the answers to our most pressing question AND it’s free. Oh happy day! I wonder if it is BYOB or if there is an open bar. Can anyone explain to me what the picto-diagram of the statue on the reverse side even means?

Or do I need to attend the super FREE convention to find out the mystery??

Happy Mother’s Day to all you mamas out there reading.

To you menfolk, please don’t forget to wish the mamas in your life a super mother’s day as well. Remember it’s the thought that counts…that is, unless your wife is an evil bitch. In that case, you better either file for divorce or buy her something shiny. Depending on the extent of her evilness, a blood sacrifice may be in order as well. I hope you can find a virgin.

Fantastic Friday Five #10

2011-04-29T10:31:00.000-05:00

Now I know some of you thought this post wasn't coming. Shame on you for not having faith in me. Your doubt makes me sad.

1.) It’s no secret I’m really into zombie/apocalypse stories. Recently, I started reading The Walking Dead graphic novels. Ummm, why am I just now doing this?? It has also been suggested to me that I read the book John Dies at the End by David Wong who is also a columnist for the infamous Cracked webiste. I’m on it! I suggest you head over to The Encyclopedia of Counted Sheep (when you're done reading this lovely post of course) and read Bryan's short short zombie tale. I'm not going to say he wrote it FOR me but I think he sort of wrote it BECAUSE of me. Yeah, I'm kind of a big deal.

2.) Our gardens are flourishing. That is a big deal all on its own especially since it has been left in my care. Back in the fall, I had to plant some bulbs and such that came in the mail. The husband had ordered them in the spring of 2010 and now he was relying on me to get them into the ground since he was away. Well, I’m proud to announce that shit is actually growing. An iris bloomed last week and another one is getting ready to do the same.

Apparently that black thumb of mine is more of a shade of gray…or maybe I just need to wash my hands better.

3.) This post has been getting some anonymous comment love lately. It seems there is something I’m going to be sorry about. Excuse me, while I get back to sacrificing virgins and drinking the blood of babies…or something.

4.) The kids and I hit up the local Goodwill store yesterday. As I picked through an endless array of romance novels, I came across a holy grail of sorts. I snagged the Lord of the Rings trilogy in a beat up old paperback for only 75 cents!! I had Billy Mays’ voice in my head yelling, “That’s a quarter per book.” How could I pass up this deal? How could I say no to Billy? I HAD to act now!

5.) Last but certainly not least, I am happy to announce that my husband will be home for good sooner than orginally planned. He decided not to do a second year in Afghanistan. Hooray! Now, not only will may sleeping habits return to normal (hopefully) I’ll be getting laid on a fairly regular basis. Whoot, whoot! Time for me to break out into song…”I’m so excited. I just can’t hide it!”

What?? Don't judge me. Don't you dare judge me.

Well, that's it AND you got it on Friday. Aren't you lucky?? Have a great weekend. I know I will. Margaritas in my kitchen...here I come.

An Award, Eyeballs, and Triple F

2011-04-27T10:37:00.000-05:00

First, it seems that in the circle of bloggers in which I’ve grown accustomed to associating myself are now trending our eyes. All thanks to Chanel, of course. So here is my contribution. Conveniently, since I've got my eyes on all of you I have also received this award times two from both Chanel and Bryan. They recognize my awesome…or at least, they tolerate it.

As always these little suckers come with rules…rules that I intend to twist to conform to my ever changing mood.

Stinking Rules:

1. List three things you would change if you were Overlord.

2. List ten blogs worthy of world domination. Yeah, that’s not going to happen. How about three?

3. Contact them about their new position of power.

As your overlord, I would make the following changes:

1.) First and foremost, I would lock some scientists in an underground laboratory until they invented teleportation. Screw the cost of fuel! I teleport, bitches!

2.) I would also do away with telemarketers. I mean, seriously, with all the junk mail we get in our inboxes and mailboxes do we really need phone calls too? REALLY? I would also execute anyone who sold another person’s contact information.

3.) Lastly, I would lower the salaries of most celebrities, athletes, and politicians. Many of these fools have so much money they don’t even know what to do with it. I mean, how many freaking cars does one person really need? I would take their cut salaries and apply them to people who actually make a difference like teachers, librarians, scientists, charities, etc.

Now the poor bastards that get this powerful award are…drumroll please…

Jewell of Really! Wait. What?

Rancher Mom of Rancher Mom's Realm

Thundercat of Colorful Rants of a Fed Up Sista

Also since I had company all weekend, I’m REALLY behind on my Fantastic Friday Five. I figured why not just throw it in here with this post.

1.) I’ve been listening to a zombie book on tape while jogging on the treadmill. I’ve come to the conclusion that the worst time to encounter a zombie would be during sex, especially if the person you were screwing was the one turning. As George Carlin would say, “These are the thoughts what keep me from being a productive member of society.”

2.) Finally, it rained in the great state of Oklahoma and I’m happy to say the truck hasn’t leaked. Now I just need to make it to the 2nd when I’ll finally be able to get the ol’ girl fixed.

3.) The kids recently had a photo-shoot. My son wasn’t very interested but my daughter, well, that’s a whole other animal. She thought she was a superstar. Here are a few. Keep in mind some of these are were scanned from the composite sheet so they are a little gritty.

4.) I’m so glad it’s rained. Goodness knows we needed it. My lawn and garden thanks you, Mother Nature. I do have one more request. Can I get a good night time thunderstorm, preferably one with some kick ass lightening and some sweet grumbling?

5.) During my parents’ visit, we went to the mountains and we ended up in the Holy City, home of the longest running passion play. I just want to let everyone know I wasn’t struck by lightning or anything upon stepping foot in the chapel. More details about the visit soon.

‘Til next time, friends.

Summer Can't Come Quickly Enough

2011-04-21T01:18:00.000-05:00

Twenty seven more days until school is out for summer. I’m completely mixed about it. On one hand, the thought of not having a break from the kids is a little terrifying especially since my husband is deployed. On the other, this school year has been such a merciless headache that summer may just be the relief the kids and I need.

In the beginning of this school year, I was really struggling to get my son on track. He was being completely lackadaisical when it came to his schoolwork which caused his teacher to request that he be tested for ADD and ADHD. It not only turned out to be a false alarm but the tests showed that my fifth grader was reading on an eighth grade level. These results didn’t shock me but it did make me proud that there was now proof that there was nothing wrong with him. On the inside I basically chanted “Ninny ninny boo boo!” and “I told you so. Now shut the fuck up and teach my kid!!!”

Although his grades were improving, his dislike for his teacher became more and more defined. Many days the boy would come home and as soon as he would walk through the door he would began ranting about how awful his teacher was. We would sit down and discuss it. I would try so hard to help him see her side even though I was grappling with some of her ways myself.

He’s expressed to me that he feels as if she is always picking on him and singling him out. I explained to him that he is partially to blame. He gave her such a hard time in the beginning of the year that she now has her eye on him all the time. So now if he farts crooked, she’s going to know about it. It’s not fair but that’s the way the cookie crumbles, little dude. I told him the best thing to do is to stay off of her radar and the way to do that is to not give her ammunition. Trying to convince him to work harder and keep his mouth shut and his nose clean is like trying to convert the Taliban to Christianity.

Little by little I am finding out that this teacher’s way of solving the problem is by separating him from the rest of the class. At first I thought this consisted of her having to sit him next to her desk or something like that. That doesn’t bother me but I’m discovering through more and more conversations with him that she is sitting him outside of the classroom; I’m talking in the hallway or in the empty classroom next door. My concern is how the hell are you teaching my child if he isn’t even in your class?? I don’t understand how this can be helping his grades.

Yesterday, I went to speak to the guidance counselor. I expressed my concerns about the way the boy has been feeling in regards to how he is being treated. I explained to her that I am noticing a shut down on the horizon and I didn’t want it to affect the improvement he has made so far. I asked if she would maybe talk to the teacher and explain to her the affect that her style of discipline is having on my child.

The only reason have not gone to the teacher myself is I don’t think I can remain calm. Let’s face it. If you haven’t noticed my “mother bear” is showing. My child feels picked on and I’m ready to defend him. I don’t think I can talk to her without being very confrontational. Another reason I felt the need to bring a third party into the situation is simply because if this teacher truly is “picking on” my kid, I don’t want matters to get worse for him.

I also asked the counselor to talk my son. It concerns me how angry this has made him. When we talk about his school situation, you can see the fury in his eyes as they well up with tears and he clenches his fists at his sides. I thought maybe if the counselor tried to help him understand the teacher’s stance a little better, it would help. She agreed to have a conversation with him.

Later that same day was the last straw. He was late coming home. When I questioned him as to why, he said that she made him sit in the empty classroom next door. Since he was being punished when the bell rang he didn’t get up. He figured she was going to come over, lecture him, and then dismiss him. Apparently, this wasn’t his first rodeo.

When she didn’t come to speak to him after a few minutes of waiting, he said he peeked around the corner. She was sitting at her desk on the computer. It seems that she actually forgot that he was there. This infuriated me to no end!!! I called the school. The counselor answered the phone. I let her know what had happened and she advised me that I should meet with the principal. Hopefully, I’ll get a meeting soon and I keep reminding myself that this is all almost over.

No Sympathy For A Child Killer

2011-04-19T23:51:00.001-05:00

Just a brief update here…

After months of nothing about the death of my ten year old son’s friend’s murder other than this, it has finally been made know that Lancey Ray, this man,

will finally stand trial facing first degree murder charges for the death of his stepson, Malik Ray, from December 23, 2011. It is believed that the ten year old child went into shock and then cardiac arrest after being beaten with a belt and a cutting board. The brief article can be read here .

Words can never express how this event has infuriated me. The impact on my son can be found here. I do not choose to describe it again. My only wish is that the loss of Malik finds justice.

Can Anyone Else Feel A Breeze?

2011-04-18T23:24:00.000-05:00

Oklahoma weather is insane. I thought the weather in New Orleans was unpredictable. Jeez! Thursday evening the wind began to pick up. It seemed to come out of nowhere.

My baby girl had a Girl Scout egg hunt. The boy was able to participate since he’s been dubbed an official Girl Scout Brother and has been unofficially adopted by the girls…except my daughter; she wishes they’d all take him home so she can be a “lonely” child (I think she means “only”).

During the egg hunt, the wind blew up the dust and made the leaves on the ground whip up into spirals. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke from the grass fires that raged in the distance and a milky haze filled the sky causing the mountains to resemble ghosts. It resembled early morning fog. The evening sun struggled to shine through. None of this stopped the children from their hunting game. They ran carelessly around the fields finding their brightly colored eggs filled with sweets and trinkets, oblivious to any danger.

Later that night, the winds blew violently with gusts up to 50 miles per hour. Many times during the night, I awoke to the howling of the winds whipping through the trees as branches were snapped and thrown against the house. My daughter ended up coming to the door to ask to sleep in my bed. The commotion outside had woken her up as well and probably scared the shit out of her.

The next day as I was running errands, I noticed trees ripped from the ground by the roots and fences toppled over. Branches were everywhere. Many homes were missing shingles but the wind was relentless. It was still bludgeoning the landscape with fury.

After school, I dropped my son off at a friend’s home for a sleepover (is that what you call what boys do??). My daughter and I headed to Wal-Mart in search of a futon to put into Buddy’s old room. The wind was still blowing around something terrible and when my daughter went to get out of the truck the wind snatched that door and nearly flung her onto the pavement. Luckily, there was no vehicle parked next to us or our door would have crashed into it causing some awful damage.

As we exited the truck, my daughter called over to me that she couldn’t close the door. When I came around the truck to the passenger side, I had to jerk the door nearly as hard as I could to get it to become unstuck. I assumed the door had been whipped open further than it was supposed to and had just needed to be yanked back into place. We went ahead into Wal-Mart and I didn’t think another thing about it.

When we returned to the truck, girl child went to get back in and called me over because she couldn’t open it now. I walked over and gave the door a quick tug and the awful sound of metal filled my ears. I looked over in the direction of the hinges and saw that the door was slightly over the corner of the fender. There was chipped paint and I could see where some of the metal was bent. I could tell that the door was crooked too. On the drive home, I could hear the wind coming in through the door. It sounded like I was driving with the windows cracked.

After we returned home, I called the insurance company and they set me up with a local body shop to get an estimate. Today, I dropped by the shop to have them take a look at it. They are going to need to replace the entire fender which is going to run roughly $1400 and once they remove the door it is possible that the hinges will need to be replaced as well. Thank goodness for insurance! I will only need to pay my deductible.

The guy at the body shop was able to make a minor adjustment to try to prevent any water from coming into the truck. Although the great state of Oklahoma hasn’t seen a good rain in I don’t even know how long, I was sure the door was leaking. Why? Because being the genius I am I decided it would a good idea to go through the carwash to clean my dusty ass truck.

Each time the water jets came across the door, water trickled down the window. Sometimes my genius shines. I’m telling you!

Now I wait. Apparently from what the girl doing my paperwork told me, I’m not the only person that was lucky enough to get some vehicle damage from the crazy wind. It looks like it will be the beginning of May before they can get me in.

One good thing is we had an existing dent on the fender that I was planning on getting an estimate for anyway. Since the wind messed up the door on the same side, I was told that the fender needs to be replaced anyway.

So although it sucks that I can’t use the door right now, at least, I can kill two birds with one stone. Also, for the time being, I don’t have to listen to my children bicker over who is going to sit in the front seat. Thank goodness for small favors.

Fantastic Friday Five #8

2011-04-15T11:52:00.000-05:00

Ok. I KNOW I missed last week’s Fantastic Friday Five and NO I don’t really have a good excuse other than oops, I forgot. I suppose to make it up to you guys I should give you double the Fantastic Friday Five…but, I’m not that generous. Oh, and I’m lazy…and sort of bitchy. Read between the lines of #1 and you’ll know why. So here’s this week’s and this week’s only Fantastic Friday Five for your reading pleasure.

1.) After a fun filled time with my husband for his leave, I am happy to announce I am NOT pregnant! This totally deserved a spot at #1 this week. My best friend is getting her tubes tied. Sounds like a GREAT idea to me!!!

2.) After over a year, my parents are finally making a trip to my house. I’m excited. My sister and her son are coming too. She is already making a list of things she wants me to cook for her. My mother wants to play Rockband. ;) Oh, it’s on!!

3.) It is almost official. Today, I sent in my final payment for our truck. Once I am holding that title in my hand, I am throwing a party. Of course, the shindig will involve me and a bottle (or two) of wine, but a party nonetheless.

4.) I want to move to a nudist colony. Seriously! I am so freaking sick of doing laundry. I swear sometimes I don’t even think the kids wear the clothes that I wash. What is REALLY infuriating is when I find folded…FOLDED clothes in the dirty clothes basket that now smell like stank ass!

5.) Apparently, I’m awesome. (Of course, if you are here reading this you should already know that.) What you may not know is it seems I am SO super “fantabulously” awesome that someone is out there impersonating me on Facebook. However, it seems they have a few things wrong. For instance, it says I’m a cashier at Burger King. I’m also a stripper who’s in college. Oh, and I’m from Poland. I’ve also noticed that I have poor grammar that reads similar to a letter from a foreign scam artist wanting to “give” you money. See here and here. I’ve learned so much about myself. (Update: The picture has been changed…probably because I reported them to the Facebook powers that be.)

Ok. I've changed my mind. I will give you a small bonus since I left you hanging last week.

BONUS: If anyone knows where I can get one of these you can contact me via my fake Facebook page above.

Enjoy your weekend!!!

Nothing Like A Slice of Nostalgia Pie

2011-04-12T17:19:00.000-05:00

We were reminiscing like we do, Rosita and I, talking about old friends and good times. We perused through the topics one by one. Those things all tied back in some sort of way to one room.

Room 501…just up the stairs

Drama.

It was the room where we focused on theater arts instead of social drama. It was the only class where you left your high school status at the door. No one was the outcast…everyone was the star. It was a hodgepodge of students from nearly every group of the school, like a sociology experiment. There was a dose of football players, a hit of stoners, a few metal heads, a couple of honor rollers, some preppies, a share of trekkies, etc, etc. Some of us were there for a fairly easy grade but most were there because we were drawn to the stage whether we admitted it or not. More often than not, the drama class itself came secondary to the laughter and the friends we made there.

As I said, we reminisced. We laughed like we do about times we had…hanging out in the drama “closet” which was a small office that had been turned into a storage room for costumes and props. If those costumes could talk, they’d have some pretty R-rated tales to tell you. I used to think those tales belonged solely to my husband and I but I discovered that we weren’t the only ones making out on the prop sofa from time to time. Good thing I constantly sprayed that thing with Lysol when I cleaned up in there. Who knows what kind of high school cooties that thing would have been harboring? Does Lysol kill gonorrherpesyphilydia?

We reminisced about the star football player that ended up in our class…no doubt for an easy pass suggested by the coach. My friend declared him gorgeous. I agreed. He was pretty good looking. She said she ran into him recently. She referred to him as “man meat”. I was nearly in tears laughing. Then, she told me something that surprised me…flattered me. Mr. High School Stereo-type not only asked about me but proceeded to tell her how sexy he thought I was. Of course, he didn’t remember my name…he asked her about “that other white girl” as if her and I were the only white girls in the class.

She and I laughed because apparently we were the only white girls that mattered. Yeah, we were pretty awesome.

We reminisced about how people used to be and how many change so much after high school. She started telling me about the ten year reunion that I skipped and about one person in particular showing up with body guards not because she was attending a New Orleans event but because apparently that shit is required when you are on the BET show, 106 & Park. It’s sort of a big deal…I suppose even though I had to google it because I had no idea what or who Rosita was talking about.

And yes, it required digging out a yearbook because I didn’t recognize the woman at all. All I can say is I will spare all of you the year book photo (I’m sure Raquel…or Rocsi…or whatever she is going by now days will appreciate it as well) and I'll just say good for her. Her stylists are doing an amazing job.

Rosita told a tale of phoniness, not necessarily of our ugly duckling classmate (and I use that description out of awe…not insult). People are flat out fake when it comes to money, power, and celebrities and our average old school chums are no different. But it’s just silly when people trip over themselves when a star is near…especially something so low on the totem pole as a reality star.

Let’s face it. Reality television is taking over the televisions sets (and intelligence) of this country and these so-called “stars” are a dime a dozen. Pretty soon, there will be a reality show about a reality show. Can you imagine? Camera crews following camera crews…boom mics everywhere.

I can’t say from experience that I’d never be star struck. Of course, I’ve never ran into George Clooney or Brad Pitt. I can assume though if I ever ran into a Snooki, I’d head in the other direction.

So it seems, the tale of the high school ugly duckling (aka just your average teenage girl minus the stylist a la’ She’s All That movie montage) turned reality star hottie, I’m sure, is becoming an epidemic among high school reunions nationwide.

Even this topic about a girl not even in our drama class went back to Room 501. Rosita laughed as I gave my reasons for skipping the reunion…about how I have no interest in seeing people that I had no interest of seeing then. Maybe that makes me snotty. Maybe it does. I explained that there were roughly a dozen or so people I’d be interesting in catching up with and they were in that room at one time or another. One of which has started her own blog. Most people that mattered at all to me, I have regained some form of contact with all thanks to Facebook. Of course, there are some I could have done without.

Room 501 was like a teenage Las Vegas in a sense that what was said there, stayed there. The teacher was amazing.

She was the sort of adult that every teenager needs in their life. You were able to confide in her and she would give you a mature, sometimes motherly opinion without being judgmental. Each tidbit of advice was given with a side of understanding that made you feel confident in yourself that you were capable of making the right decision on your own. She was the only adult that ever made me feel that way other than my older cousin who was 30ish at the time.

That room was a haven…a sanctuary. I had never felt so safe, accepted, or understood. I felt free to be myself…even though I had no idea exactly who I was just yet. Room 501 assisted me in finding the Asha that I’ve become.

So, I never shagged the star football player or made it anywhere other than home video but I have found the adult version of Room 501 right here in my simple, little life. You know what? That makes me happy and no matter how much Rosita and I reminisce there isn’t a damn thing I’d change.

Creepy Crawlers

2011-04-07T15:22:00.000-05:00

Her scream could be heard all the way in the kitchen. My daughter came running and yelling about a tarantula in the bathtub. I had never seen a real life tarantula in the wild…or my bathroom before. I grabbed my camera. This is what I saw.

NOT a tarantula but a scorpion. Since it was so close to the drain I decided to turn on scalding hot water and try to drown and flush it down the drain.

Due to the design of the drain, the scorpion didn’t actually go down. I grabbed the tweezers and decided to pick the little bugger up by the tail. When I did, it came crawling up out of the drain with its tail raised and it pinchers poised ready to fight me.

Behind me, I heard a buzzing noise. I turn around and there was a freaking yellow jacket in the sink. I ran out the bathroom. My heart was racing. I scooped up the bug spray from under the sink and proceeded to drown the beast with the poisonous stream.

This isn’t the first time we’ve gotten icky creepy crawlers around our property. Apparently, Oklahoma should be referred to as Buglahoma (thanks, cuz).

Once while washing clothes, I went to transfer clothes from the washer to dryer and I stumbled upon this crazy zebra looking beetle. My reaction was just to let out a scream and my hero Super Deuce came running. I managed to snap a picture of it just as Deuce turned it into a scene from a horror movie.

You my boy, Deuce!

Another thing around here that amazes me is the size of the freaking grasshoppers.

They are enormous AND they fly and give me the heebie jeebies. The thing I hate most about them is their unpredictability. They jump. They fly. These things are usually done in my direction which makes for humorous entertainment for those around me as I scream like a little bitch and flail my arms as I run. The only other insects that can make me act this way and give me the willies are:

a.) Cockroaches…the flying kind (also called palmetto bugs, water bugs, etc…depending on where you live). I prefer to call them fucking gross!!

b.) Junebugs…those flying brown beetles that hang out on your screen door at night usually when your porch light is on. These always seem to fly at my face.

A few times I’ve seen praying mantises. It was interesting seeing the looks on my children’s faces as I explained their violent mating rituals. My son declared that he was glad he wasn’t a mantis.

Every so often in the Sooner state *gag* amongst the mile long snakes and the insects large enough to run away with a newborn, you will see something as cute and cuddly as this little guy.

Rabbits roam our neighborhood, eating your plants and leaving little pellets of evidence all over the place. This little bunny was hanging out on my porch. It was small enough to fit into the palm of my hand. You can tell by looking at the bricks how tiny it really was. The problem? The poor thing was spotted by my daughter. She brought it spinach to tried to coax it into her clutches. When that didn't work, she just went balls to the wall and reached out and grabbed the poor little bastard. It proceeded to thrash and scream! Yes, scream!

I had never heard a rabbit scream before. I had heard they could but had never had the pleasure. It managed to get away and it ran towards the neighbors (just like his mommy taught him...lol) and wedged itself between the city garbage can and the fence.

The dogs are going ballistic at this point, both mine and the neighbors. My daughter wanted me to capture this poor little “suburban” woodland creature. I tried to explain that I don't want to move the garbage can for two reasons:

1.) I don't want the furball to get caught in the wheel.

2.) I don't want it to freak out and run under the fence to certain death. Either way, I would feel bad because who really wants to see the demise of a cute “wittle bunny wabbit”.

These explanations, while making sense to me, were not enough to convince a 7-year old Elmyra Duff wannabe (remember Tiny Toons?) that the sheer existence of this tiny rodent relative was more important than her need to hug it and kiss it and love it forever. This minor disagreement brought on tears and pouting and the declaration that I am, yet again, the worst mom in the whole wide world only second to child murderers such as Andrea Yates and Susan Smith.

Needless to say, I ended up having to send my baby girl to her room along with her tears, tantrum, and attitude where she fell asleep soundly dreaming of places where mommies let their little girls catch bunnies and Skittles really do come from rainbows. Hopefully, when she finally woke up Bugs Bunny’s love child will have moved on to greener pastures.

Fantastic Friday Five #7

2011-04-01T18:54:00.000-05:00

Wow! I know this is a very late Fantastic Friday Five post but this week has been pretty boring with the exception of two sick kids. Forgive the briefness.

1.) My daughter came home from school on Wednesday burning up with fever and complaining that her stomach hurt. She stayed home Thursday and felt better by lunchtime (just my luck). Today I get a phone call while I’m running errands that my son is not feeling well. I end up having to go pick him up from his field trip. You KNOW a kid is sick when they want you to pick them up from a field trip. He felt better within a couple of hours and has been driving me crazy ever since. All I can say is at least I didn’t have to clean up any barf. Knock on wood.

2.) More kid news…my daughter managed to reach her Girl Scout cookie goal. She sold a whopping 600 boxes of cookies. She’s getting a butt load of patches and she earned enough cookie dough (money that can be spent at the scout store) to buy herself some nice scouting things. I also don’t have to pay for her registration next year since she sold so many cookies. I am so proud of her. Now if only I can get my son to get his shit together so he can earn his Webelos patch for Cub Scouts.

3.) Some things in life are ass backwards. For instance, my husband had his leave but he could not turn in any of his expenses until after he made it back to Afghanistan even though he had to reserve plane tickets and such over a month in advance. However, the company credit card doesn’t wait to send its bill for over almost 3K which is required to be paid in full. I said screw it. I wasn’t about to dip into my personal funds to pay that. So I called the company and told them I would pay it when the employer reimbursed us which should be mid-month. Also, it burns me that we are middle men. The employer REQUIRES you get the company credit card. I don’t understand why they just don’t pay it instead of sending the money to us and then making us pay it.

4.) I’m taking the kids to see Diary of a Wimpy Kid 2: Roderick Rules. My son is a big fan of the books. In my opinion, the books are very cleverly written. The pictures give it a comic book feel which in turn makes my son think he isn’t really reading. Shhh! Don’t tell him the truth. My daughter likes to read Dork Diaries which is sort of like the girly version of the Wimpy Kid series. I’m just glad the kids are reading. I guess I can’t expect to get them to read Atlas Shrugged…yet.

5.) On a completely unrelated topic…my son received some prism glasses on the field trip today. He informed me a few moments ago while he was wearing them that he was going to the bathroom to see how his pee looks. Now I’m being told it looked like a rainbow. This has been an Asha Special Report. You’re welcome.

Don't Be A Drag...

2011-03-31T23:01:00.001-05:00

Driving down the street the other day, I actually broke away from my IPod and clicked on the radio. That’s unusual for a few reasons. 1.) Music today, to me, (this is me being old) has lost a lot of its originality. Instead of being unique, they try to mimic and then one up their musical influences. Boring! I know this is nothing new but it just seems much more prevalent. 2.) The typical radio stations around here play the “hits” aka crap or country or Christian…also, crap. 3.) The few classic rock stations that I am able to get around here (and I use the term “classic” loosely since it plays songs from the 80s and 90s) are so static-y that half the time I don’t even bother.

My kids, on the other hand, are typically like any other generation. They think the “new” music is so amazing and original. I have to bite my tongue sometimes because they tend to get really offended when I insult their musical preferences. I have to remind myself that my parents probably hated my choices too.

My son has a pretty decent grasp of music…in my opinion…as in he likes many of the things that my husband and I enjoy. Although, he does like Katy Perry. Of course, he reminds me every time he sees the Addidas or Proactiv commercials that it’s just because she’s hot.

My daughter on the other hand has definite elementary school girl taste. She likes to listen to Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez, Justin Beiber, and Ke$ha (yes, the chick with a dollar sign in her name…how the fuck do you even pronounce that???). I don’t think this group is talentless. I just think that their songs lack substance. Counting Crows they are not. Again, elementary school girl taste...I mean, I liked New Kids on the Block when I was her age.
There is a fourth reason I end up listening to the radio. 4.) I forgot my IPod at home. Oops! This is exactly how I gotstuck listening to the radio this time.

So, yeah, the car ride…

We end up listening to this…

Oh, Gaga! Even though, you try to capture us with your shock and awe, I can’t help but feel like I’ve seen and heard this all before…most recently Madonna. To be more specific, isn’t “Born This Way” just an updated cross version of “Express Yourself” and "Vogue" anyway? Seriously, have you listened to this, Gaga?

I suppose it could be worse. It could be this.

I’ll just take this Friday. Thank you very much.

I’ll leave you with eight words of wisdom…

“Don’t be a drag, just be a queen.”

Well said, Gaga. Well said.

It's Scary In There

2011-03-28T19:24:00.000-05:00

Last night, I had another weird experience. Part of me wants to blame my lack of sleep and, of course, my vivid imagination for the unusual dream. If you’ve been keeping up with my blog you know these sort of things are nothing to which I am a stranger. See here and here.

I had dozed off around 2-ish and woke up to a light tapping at my bedroom door and no it wasn't the Raven. This isn’t an unusual occurrence as I have two children that from time to time come to my room during the night because they have had a bad dream or what not. I have my kids trained to not walk into my room…to always knock first. This is just a precaution. I’d hate for my kids to see a nip slip or something. Who knows what happens when you rigamaroo (wiggle around) in your sleep?

“What do you want?” I said. No answer. I sat up and looked at the faint light streaming under the door. Normally there is a shadow there if one of the kids is standing on the other side. There was nothing. I'm not sure exactly what would be scarier...a knock, no shadow, and no answer or a knock, a shadow, and no answer. The verdict hasn't come back yet on that one. A shadow would mean there's a chance of a demon clown.

I managed to convinced myself that I dreamed the knock but just to be sure I got up to go check on the kids.

Now, I love to watch scary movies and the whole time I was walking to the bedroom it was like a scene from a movie…slow motion of a hand reaching to turn a doorknob.

Enter Friday the 13th soundtrack here.

Even the walk across the house to their rooms was a bit surreal. When I peeked into their rooms, both of them were soundly sleeping. Even the dog was snoring, loudly I might add, curled up next to my daughter. So, I went back to my room and cozied back into the bed under the comforter. After a while, I fell back asleep.

In my “dream”, I was sleeping on my side when I felt a presence. I tried to roll over to see what was behind me. The presence seemed to put me almost in a half nelson. I fought with it to a point that I toppled off the bed and hit my head on my dresser. During the time I was wrestling with whatever it was, I must have sensed it was all a dream. I tried to convince myself to wake up, trying to will my eyes open.

When I finally managed to force myself awake it was around 4 in the morning, my heart was racing and my head ached. When I reached up to the spot throbbing on my cranium, I found a knot the size of a quarter. I had that fuzzy “I just woke up” feeling. Of course, in my experience that feeling is the same as the “I’ve been knocked unconscious” one. I guess it's possible that I was thrashing my sleep and may have hit my head some way on the head board.

I tried to settle back down in my bed. Then I heard the familiar sound that always seems to accompany dreams such as these…the hoot of an owl. I looked out of my window to see if I could see the culprit. It took me a few moments to locate it in the darkness outside. I saw it as it in the tree as it turned its head around to face me. It seemed as if we made eye contact just before it spread its wings and flew away.

As I’ve stated a lot lately, sleep and I just aren’t getting along well right now. So just imagine my disappointment (also known as utter terror) when this event transpired and I was left on the verge of a panic attack in my bed trying to settle myself back down to sleep. My body and mind were just beginning to relax enough to drift back to Land of Nod when there was a knock at the bedroom door again. It startled me to a point that I nearly jumped out of my skin. It’s probably good that I had used the restroom just before climbing back into bed or I would have been changing the sheets.

This time when I called out, “What do you want?” My daughter answered back. She said she had a bad dream and wanted to sleep in my bed. How sad is it that I was relieved she wanted to sleep in the bed with me? I mean, good thing my seven year old is here to protect her scaredy cat mommy.

Fantastic Friday Five #7

2011-03-25T17:03:00.000-05:00

After a short hiatus, I bring to you another Fantastic Friday Five. A post where I share a few topics that really don’t fit anywhere else and/or I just feel like getting out into the blogosphere. Enjoy!

1.) I’m having trouble sleeping. This is common after my husband leaves. During other deployments, I went through this same circumstance. The first night after he left this time, I actually slept on the sofa because lying in the bed made me cry. I’m normally not the emotional type but every so often I get bit by the crybaby bug. Jeez, I hope I’m not pregnant. I just want to sleep again.

2.) During my husband’s visit, my super smart son decided to see what would happen if he held a Kleenex over a lit candle…in my living room. I was laying on the sofa “burrito-ed” up in a fuzzy blanket on the loveseat, in the fetal position, burning up with fever. I deliriously fell off the sofa trying get to the burning tissue ON MY CARPET, which I JUST had professionally cleaned. The blanket was full of static and I couldn’t get it off of me. Luckily, my husband was home. He stomped it out. The look of terror in my son’s eyes as he stood there frozen was enough to restrain me from killing him.

When questioned as to what the fucking fuck was he thinking, he concocted an elaborate story about how he was on the computer, NOT PAYING ATTENTION. He said he reached over to grab a tissue and he doesn’t know why it caught fire because it was nowhere near the candle. Needless to say, he had to say good-bye to the computer. Now, there is a gray spot on my carpet about the size of a stick of butter and there is also a black, burn spot the size of a dime next to it. Can anyone tell me when I can expect my boy child to develop common sense??

3.) The lawn guys cut my internet wire. Of course, AT&T originally rigged it up in way where the wire sticks out the ground and runs through my kitchen window. I pay for this?!?! The reason AT&T had to do this was because for some reason all the phone cords leading to the house were cut. Weird… The AT&T technician that installed everything said the cable companies sometimes do that if the prior occupant had phone or internet service through them. Great! Now those ugly little phone jack boxes throughout the house are truly useless.

Currently, this post is coming to you via stolen internet. Yep. I’m a freaking criminal.

4.) In addition to #3, I loathe calling customer service for most companies. I can even get past the fact that many companies outsource to guys like Peggy. (Watch the video if you don’t know what I’m talking about.)

What annoys me the most is the lack of understanding of the situation at hand. If it isn’t on the cue cards in front of them, they have no clue how to help you. (Read this post by Tricia at Confessions of a Recovering Cynic for some giggles on this topic.) I also hate being transferred all over the place from one department to the next. I think a lot of times when the representative you are speaking to doesn’t know how to help you, they transfer you…anywhere. If I have a technical support problem, why are you transferring me to billing? I don’t work there but that doesn’t sound right to me. The icing on the cake, of course, is when they disconnect you and THEN you get to call back to start the process all over again. Oh, what fun!

5.) Thank you mailman for occasionally bringing me useful junk mail. Well, I guess it isn’t really junk mail if it is useful. I’ve yet to have to write my return address for months thanks to places like VFW. They send me assorted labels, cards, pens, pads of paper, etc. I love free stuff, except the free “keys” the local car dealerships send. I don't love those. The only uses I can think up for those is taking them over to the local car dealerships and keying that snot out of every car on the lot.

I need one of these.

Don’t forget to check out my new food blog, Shut Up and Eat Your Food!

Oh and by the way, this is for Mr. Cheese.

That'll show you not to be so sassy. ;)

‘Til next week…

A Homecoming Adventure Told With A Ridiculous Amount of Photographs...and Booze

2011-03-24T03:43:00.000-05:00

During the time my husband was gracing us with his presence, I actually allowed him to leave the bedroom from time to time to spend time with our children. In the midst of this visit, we had a few small adventures locally that are worth sharing.

Too much sexy in one place

First and foremost, a friend of mine was kind enough to watch my kids for a few hours to give the husband and I time to go on a hot date. My husband took me to a fine dining restaurant (or at the very least the finest I’ve ever been to) called Rinie’s Kitchen & Wine Bar.

Rinie's Kitchen & Wine Bar

We had been there once before for our anniversary. Unfortunately, we had the kids with us so the experience wasn’t as pleasant as it could have been. We vowed to try it again without kids. We finally had our chance.

On the way there my husband joked that we would be sat near all the crying babies and fighting children since we didn’t have our own. He laughed as I suggested that we’d get stuck between a family with crying infant triplets and another table of fighting six year olds. So to prevent that situation from becoming our reality as SOON as the hostess asked where we would like to sit, I immediately asked to sit in the lounge in hopes we could avoid being anywhere near children. I actually asked her if kids could sit in there. My husband said she probably thought I was being snotty. I’d be lying if I said I gave a shit.

We got the night started with a bottle of wine. I chose a delicious Chilean Carmenere. It’s sort of a cross between a merlot and a cabernet sauvignon. It was Asunto from 2007. We ended up knocking out two bottles of that stuff. We also got the appetizer sampler platter. The platter contained fried calamari, bitterballen, chicken satay, and crab cakes. Sadly, I did not photograph the beauty that was the mere presentation of the food. Being the type of restaurant, I felt rude snapping pictures of the things I was about to consume. I mean after all, this wasn’t Long John Silvers.

We both had Caesar salads. I’m not sure if they made their own dressing but it was very tasty. As a main course, my husband got the Bacon Wrapped Filet Mignon with Grilled Shrimp. It was no surprised my husband got something that was “bacon-wrapped” because he lives by the same philosophy as I do…everything tastes better with bacon. For my main course, I ordered the Ahi Tuna with a Skewer of Grilled Shrimp. Needless to say, there was no room for dessert. I told my husband that was what the wine was for. wink wink

While my husband was here, he took pity on me allowed me to get a new camera since my old one was on its last leg. Isn’t it pretty??

He also purchased a few gifts for the kids and me while he was in Dubai.

My lovely earrings

a Hello Kitty purse

his very own Manchester United soccer jersey

The best gift of all (besides the obvious that my husband was home to share time with us) had to be my brand new shiny wedding ring. When my husband and I originally got married, we didn’t even have rings. I’ve mentioned before that we were young and stupid. Well, we were also broke as fuck. When we finally got our first set it was probably made of gold plated tin for all we knew. I think the whole set ran us under $100. Even in 1999 that was stupid cheap!
Years later in 2004, my husband purchased us a new set because he had lost his and I refused to wear the old ones. It wasn’t because I was being a materialistic twat either. We had gone through a rough patch that involved about a yearlong separation that left the symbolism of those rings entirely meaningless to me. The set he picked out for us was fairly inexpensive as far as wedding rings go. It didn’t have one solid diamond; rather it had four pushed together to give the appearance of one single diamond. I was as happy as a fat kid in a candy store.

My old wedding ring

One night a few years ago, I told my husband that one day when we had the money I wanted to get the stones switched out and have them replaced with one small diamond. I meant YEARS from now…like for our 50th wedding anniversary or something. However when my husband (did I mention he was freaking awesome??) came home, he said he wanted to purchase a whole new ring for me. He wanted it to be something I loved. He kept saying he wanted to get me the ring I “deserved”. Now as far as deserving a materialistic object goes, I want everyone out there in the blogosphere to know the only thing I want from my husband is his love and companionship. With that said, who am I to argue with him wanting to shower me with gifts? Feast your eyes on this gorgeousness!

TA-DA!

Another adventure we had involved taking the kids to the Sam Noble Oklahoma Museum of Natural History. As always, the husband and I enjoyed it more than the kids. It’s hard to convince them that they aren’t learning anymore. I guess we foiled their lazy Spring break plans. MWUHAHAHA! Here’s some shots of our experience.

We also took the kids on an ice cream excursion to McDonald’s. I couldn’t wait to devour a hot fudge sundae. I’m not sure which of us came up with the genius idea to take the kids for ice cream at 8 o’clock at night and then try to convince them to go to bed since they had school the next day. All I know is whoever came up with the idea was able to convince the other that it absolutely made sense. I suppose the separation has made us both slightly loony.

My family enjoys going out to the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge. We always start the adventure atop of Mount Scott which we did this time as well. It’s sort of a ritual. It’s a beautiful site to overlook Lake Lawtonka as you can see from the photographs.

We’ve been out there a handful of times and in the distance we always see this tower. On this visit we were determined to locate it as it wasn’t advertised on any of the maps. Ok and we are pretty nosey.

Breaking rules is how you make memories, right? We ended up hiking along Lake Jed Johnson and finally made it. The majority of the hike was a winding trek uphill but we finally made it.

To our disappointment, the tower’s lower windows and doors were boarded. Apparently, the park rangers really didn’t want anyone up there. There was a sign posted declaring it a federal offense to enter. They even went the extra mile to pile boulders up in front of the door to prevent people from being able to pry it open. Bummer! Breaking a few rules is one thing but prison is a whole other ball game.

I joked with the kids that Rapunzel was in there waiting on her prince charming. My son said he saw someone in one of the upper windows. Maybe he did. Nothing surprises me.

I was able to snag a snapshot of a buffalo finally and a Longhorn. My old camera’s zoom wasn’t as good to take shots very far away. Take a gander.

During my husband’s visit I was a cooking fool! Be sure to make a trip to my new blog where I share some recipes and food related antidotes. I managed to master his favorite dessert which is pecan pie (pronounced pe-cawn, not pee-can for all you non-New Orleans folks out there).

Sometimes he actually shared with the kids which allowed me to get this gem of a photo.

My husband enjoyed being the grill master again. I did too since I hadn’t had a good steak since he left in September. I know, sniffle, sad isn’t it?

He was also home just in time to see the beginnings of springtime in our gardens. There were some blooms already taking place.

The children were extremely entertaining as you can see. They were very excited to have dad home.

We even went bowling and I have to tell you. The Wii makes it seem much easier than it is. Even though none of us will be bowling a 300 anytime soon, we did have fun.

My daughter lost one of her first front teeth while her dad was here.

Kids look so goofy in an adorable sort of way when they are missing teeth. Adults on the other hand look scary. Like this guy…

I really enjoyed the visit with my husband and I am looking forward to the next visit. In the meantime, I have to readjust to him being gone all over again. Ambien would be nice right about now.

And now, I leave you with this. You're welcome.