Because it's my day off and there is nothing worth watching on TV....

• While engaged in surveillance in the baking aisle yesterday I discovered that at $2.88 an ounce, pure vanilla extract runs $368.64 a gallon. If you think paying $2.34 a gallon for gasoline is bad, just be glad your car doesn't run on vanilla!
• Vanilla extract is commonly stolen and consumed in grocery stores as a tasty alcoholic beverage. It's an easy target for alcoholic shoplifters but if you were to buy it by the pint as one might in a liquor store we're talking $46.08 or $97.92 a liter! It would be cheaper to buy Hennessey.
• There are 28 messages (and counting) on our Comcast voice mailbox, but we don't know how to access the messages... so if you left us a message, we didn't get it.
• I have 467 unopened emails in my AOL mailbox, so if you wrote to me there, I didn't get it. I remember when I used to stare at the little mailbox and wait for the mailman to say 'You've got mail', then pounce on the little envelope to see who was writing to me. I am no longer excited by promises of penile enlargement.
• Foamy rocks! <-- clicky (warning, heavy sarcasm and profanity)
• So does Mr. President! <-- clicky (re-post, but I really REALLY love this)
• Bush wasn't a popular president (I liked him), but he's looking better and better every day.
• With just 85 days until Christmas there is still time to make it to the Nice list. Quick, send me chocolate and I'll put in a good word for you.
• Of all the possible letter, symbol and space combinations, this is what I found today. Beware, tomorrow is another day off!

Bleep.. bleep, bleep (censored)

I have been blogging about my life for over 5 years now. I blog about every thing, the good, the bad, the ugly and the smelly in my life. I blog about work, I blog about my football team (go BRONCOS!), I blog about my pets... the goldfish eating goldfish, the shit eating dog and the dog eating cat... I blog about the mess in my kitchen and the absence of toilet paper in my bathroom. But mostly I blog about my kids, my husband and myself.

And more recently I have blogged about how my chaotic, imperfect but for the most part happy life was turned upside down. Blogging has been therapeutic for me. It served as a vent and helped me through this extreme life changing event.

But I have been asked not to blog about this particular subject any more because it has upset the delicate balance of parallel lives.

Interesting.....

Can you say 'tough titty'?!

Yeah, well, apparently I can't and I agreed not to blog about... that which I have agreed not to blog about.

Which leaves me little else to blog about except for the same ole, same ole!

(Sorry gang, not my fault!)

So, here goes Dust Bunny, censored edition:

Rocky brought home some little goldfish she won at the Colorado State Fair and we placed them in the tank with Henry, the homicidal goldfish. Nobody has seen the littlest one for over a week. Ironically Henry seems to have grown a little and he appears to be smiling. In other news, we are down to 4 rolls of toilet paper from the 24 pack Santa (aka Gabe) delivered 9 days ago. That's more than 2 rolls a day! Amazing.

And how about them BRONCOS!

Christmas in September?

Santa Claus visited the House of Oompa sometime after midnight, bearing gifts of Fruit Loops, 2% milk, boxes of Mac and Cheese, cans of Spam and Corned Beef Hash and tons of Gatorade.
And coffee creamer... lots and lots of coffee creamer!

He also brought bottles of shampoo, body wash and a couple of razors. Girl razors. ("So the girls will leave my fricken razor alone!" grumbled Santa)

Anyhow, it was a welcomed visit and the fridge and cupboards are full of junk. Good junk! But best of all, he also brought a 24 count family pack of toilet paper. That should last us through the week end.

Thanks Santa. You're a good son!

Because somebody asked...

No, I don't make this stuff up.

If I were, for starters, I'd make myself happy and with the body of a 20 year old. Not fat like I was at 20, but a boobilicious 20 year old, with perfect teeth, a perfect body, a gorgeous face and no split ends.

I would drive a really cool car, like a '65 Mustang, or a 2009 Challenger... I'd have a loving husband, my kids would be honor students or CEO's in million dollar corporations, and I wouldn't have to work other than to pull up my stock portfolios once daily to see how much I'm worth. And of course I'd have a new camera, a Nikon D5000 would be nice.

No, this is all factual. If you were to show up on my door step right now you would find my house exactly as I have described it... messy, noisy and smelly, with a shit eating dog, a dog eating cat, a goldfish eating goldfish, 5 kids of various ages, sizes and shapes, a husband on the couch with one eye on the TV and the other on his computer, the remove near one hand and a cell phone in the other. And I would be banging on a dusty computer keyboard instead of getting ready for work, which starts in less than half an hour. My hair would be unbrushed, my feet bare and I'd be trying to remember whether I put on deodorant or not. But supper is done so the family will get to eat tonight... although only time will tell if I get to or not... it depends on who all shows up at the door step at supper time and if they leave any left overs for me.

Yes, this is my life, and it is all real. How about yours? Think about it, is it really as good as you think or is it just wishful thinking? Don't ask me, listen to your heart, it already knows the answer.

All about me....

I need:

• A good night's sleep.


• Beer and truffles.



• A quiet place to think.



• A sound proof room to scream in.



• Scratch the beer, I need Absolut Black.



• And truffles!

Just a little ventilation.

I have chronic 'Foot In Mouth Disease'. It's incurable, and my prognosis is bleak. I open my mouth and speak my mind then almost in slow motion yet always way too late, I realize what I have just said but the damage is already done. When will I ever learn that sometimes what's on one's mind is best left in one's mind.

I said that some woman 'either has big balls or no balls. Either way, if I were her, I would not be in her position.' What I was attempting to communicate was that in her place I would have handled her situation differently. Compliment or poorly veiled insult? I'm not even sure myself how I truly intended it to be, but judging by the ensuing silence after the sharing of said comment, it was probably taken as an insult.

It's not that I mis-spoke, I just should not have spoken at all. I should have kept it to myself. Shoulda, shoulda, shoulda! Grrrrrrrrrr!

Oh well, c'est la vie. Such is life. Grow some balls but keep it real! Here's some violin music to go with that whine!

Uh oh, I think I just did it again. Damn! See what I mean? It's chronic!

By the way, that's Becca in the picture down by the pond yesterday. She took last year off from Orchestra so she could concentrate on other classes but as promised she is back in Strings this year. Some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Becca was born with a violin in her hands, they were just meant to be together, her and the violin.

Steaks, wedding gowns and sunflowers... oh my!

I'm supposed to be Memorial Park taking pictures of hot air balloons. But then again, it's supposed to be sunny but it's not. It's over cast and gloomy. I'll try again tomorrow morning. Besides, I'm sore. I got in a tussle with some huge gorilla of a man who wanted some steaks but didn't want to pay for them. In the end I got my steaks back, and his shirt and hat. I also got a very sore body, but apparently I kicked him in a tender spot so I'm thinking he's feeling a whole lot worse than I am and that makes it all better as far as I'm concerned.

I saw an acquaintance, the ex-wife of a friend, at the store yesterday in a wedding gown. I took pictures for her at her last wedding. That was just 3 years ago. At first I was shocked but then I realized that it was really no big deal. Some people get married just to be married and love is just a 4 letter word. The first time Dickidoo asked for a divorce was during our 4th year. Who knows where we would be today if we had just given in then and called it quits right then and there. Would we be happier now? Would we ever realize what we had lost because we didn't want to work on our relationship? The girls wouldn't even exist. He would ask for a divorce 5 more times before this (you'd think I'd have gotten the hint by then) but we always seemed to work things out, for the kids. Well, the kids are grown and it's no longer about them. As much as I resent being replaced by an upgrade, I've finally gotten the message. I'm just glad it took me 25 years to get it.

Art has a garden on the side of the house. We have more zucchini than we know what to do with, and there are more on the way. Plus we have fresh green onions, green leaf lettuce fresh off the stalk and cilantro... with pumpkins and watermelons on the way. Sadly the strawberries, rosemary, basil and thyme never even sprouted. But the sunflowers, oh my goodness, the sunflowers! Who needs roses? These are gorgeous, and almost as big as my face! The birds in the neighborhood are very appreciative of Art's gardening skills and have been pecking at the blossoms ever since they bloomed. Every afternoon I can hear Art outside, shouting and shooting at the feathered fiends with his air soft gun like an armed scarecrow. The pellets just bounce off the birds feathers but they get the message and fly away... until Art leaves, then they're back again feasting on sunflower seeds.

Not sure what will be for supper tonight but I'm thinking it will probably have something to do with zucchini.

Oops, I did it again.

I'm in the dog house.

Not the shithound's house, but the metaphoric dog house although I think I would prefer the literal dog house which is actually a plastic travel kennel on the side of the house.

I accidentally tipped my glass of wine on Dickidoo's old laptop while shopping for a lense he had offered to buy me for my birthday. The machine sizzled to an abrupt stop... no error code, no blue screen of death... just the black screen of 'Oh My God, What Have I Done?' That wasn't the first time I'd splashed my drink on the laptop. Last month I spilt a little bit on the bottom corner... not in the keyboard, but Dickidoo had asked me not to put my drink near the computer again. I forgot.

How come when I do something wrong, disaster almost always ensues yet when anyone else does something wrong nothing really happens and nobody seems to notice? I guess I'm just lucky like that. It sucks!

I confessed to Dickidoo as soon as he got home and he sat there with his arms crossed, glaring at me the way he does when people screw up around him. It's really an intimidating sight. I felt like a child standing in front of the principal. For a second I wished I had taken Rocky's advice to blame it on the kitten.

'I'm sorry', never felt so ineffective.

Oh well, what can he do, divorce me? I'm thinking I won't be getting that lense for my birthday though.