WHY CAN'T JOHNNY DEPP BE A POLYGAMIST?

I could understand women lining up to share Johnny Depp or 'still sexy after all these years' Travolta and muscle bound Wesley Snipes... yum!  But no, we get pasty, goofy looking Warren Jeffs.   I don't care if he says he's the son of God... I mean, come on, does he look like Jesus?  No, I didn't think so.  Do his followers really, truly believe that what he preaches is God's will?  Or do they just 'want' to believe?  I suspect it is the latter.  I'm glad he has been apprehended.  I hope the children of his cult are safe from his bigoted and abusive teachings but I doubt it.  Rumor has it that his brother may take his place in his absence.  After all, if Warren is the son of God, then his brother must also be the son of God, or at least the brother of the son of God, right?

 I'm still laughing over the irony of this one... Victor Willis, the original Village People cop, being arrested for drug possession.  And this wasn't his first offense!  Yes, I know he wasn't a real cop, but its still funny.  In fact its almost as amusing as Peter Coors, of the Coors Brewery pleading guilty to DUI charges.

Thank you

Today was not a social day.  I need solitude on occasions such at this.  I went to the ponds.  The creatures there seemed to sense my sadness and they came up to offer their condolencenses.   The deer, the squirrells, even the muskrat.  But especially the mosquitoes.

They expressed their condolences all over my arms, neck and face.  I thanked as many as I could with swift swats.  Unfortunately the swats more often than not hurt me more than they hurt the mosquitoes.

I have over 3 dozen welts on my body.  Thats 36+ for those of you, like me, who aren't too quick with the mental math and must rely heavily on a calculator.  I feel ill.  I'm not sure if its the virus de jour, stress due to current events, or an over dose of mosquito coodies.  What ever it is the drugs and the alcohol aren't working.  I ache and I feel a fever coming on.  Grrrrrrrrrrr!

No word from Gabe since his cell phone message.  Rumor has it he's suffering from a 3 day drunk.  Can't say I blame him.  I just hope he's sober enough when he sleeps to know that he's safe.  I hope he was able to leave his nightmares behind in the sand.

A few friends here have asked for a little more detail about how my friend Rachelle died.  .  Rachelle was the victim of domestic abuse, violently killed by the man she had exchanged wedding vows with just 2 years earlier.  Rather than post the details here I have uploaded a link which you may access if you would like. 

Click here for Rachelle's story.

I would like to thank everyone who offered their condolences.  I have dealt with death in the past, but never with the murder of a friend.  This one will hurt for a long time and I am so fortunate to have such wonderful, supportive friends such as you.  Thank you from the bottom of my mosquito bitten heart.

If my heart is numb with grief, why does it hurt so bad?

Rachelle is being laid to rest even as I type this.  I attended the funeral but was over whelmed by my emotions.  I did not intend to view her body but something drew me to the casket.  She lay there... her body, and yet it was a doll's face, similar to hers, but not...  My mind accepted the easy way out, 'No, that's not Rachelle, there's been a mistake!'

Babies cried openly.  I cried inside. 

To know Rachelle was to love her.  The church was over flowing with those who loved her. 

'She is not dead, her life has just changed' the Father said.  'If you live, you must die, and you must die to live.'

But not like that!  I screamed silently.  Not like that!

'She will watch over her children at God's side'

She should be watching over them by their side, here on earth!

There had been a memorial in the break room at work.  A small table was lovingly draped in pale pink cloth.  Cards signed from edge to edge and spotted by tears lay amongst the figurines and flowers.  Balloons floated silently on pink and white ribbon.  I saw it and shook my head.

'That should not be here' I said and sat with my back to it, as if not looking at it would make it go away.  Yesterday as I sat again with my back stubbornly towards the table, the store manager and a couple of other employees began to box the memorial up to transport it to the church.  The finality of it took my breath away.

'No, that should stay there!'

It was a beautiful service, but I could not bear to see Rachelle lowered into the earth that she just recently walked so gracefully upon.  I waited until the last car in the funeral procession left the parking lot for the cemetary and then drove off in the opposite direction.

Ironically I found myself wondering about 'his' family.  They are grieving the loss of a son and a beloved daughter-in-law but it must be done in private.  There was no obituary in the local paper.  There is no guest book, no public support, no memorial.  While I feel no sorrow for the man who took such a wonderful person from us, I am saddened that his family must bear their grief in silence.

On the wings of an angel may you find everlasting peace Rachelle.  I shall miss you.

THE OOMPA HAS LANDED!

TOUCH DOWN!

HIS BOOTS ARE ON THE GROUND....

Nobody was home to get the call so he left a message with Dickidoo, and it was the best message in a long long time!

After 11 months, Gabe is finally safe and sound in the states.

WOO HOO!

                

...

Today was a good day.  I started off with some much needed sleep, and after sending the kids off to school I played catch-up on a year's worth of sleep.  The phone rang several times.   I vaguely remember a couple of calls.  I think one was Steve.  Or maybe 2 were.  I hung up on a foreign exchange student and the consumer survey guy.  Nothing bothered me today.  Gabe would be safe in the states soon.

After dropping Zack off at work, Rocky and I planned on doing a little belated back-to-school shopping.  When I walk into the store, which has pretty much been my home away from home for the past 7 years, its like walking into Cheers ... where every body knows your name....  Dozens of people greeted me, but nobody said anything until I passed the fitting room and my friend there called me over.

Did you hear?  she whispered.  Did you hear about the murder suicide?

Well, yes, Rocky and I heard it on the radio on our way down.  It was sad, the young mother of two was shot by her estranged husband, who then turned the gun on himself.  With her being only 20 years old, her children couldn't be very old.  Very very sad.

We're not supposed to talk about it, but it was Rachelle, my friend whispered.

Rachelle.... MY Rachelle?  I had helped to hire her.  I trained her.  I was her supervisor until I quit last spring, and then we were just co-workers when I returned.  We were friends.

Were.....

I hurt.  Today was supposed to be the happiest day in a long time until tomorrow, which was to be even happier as Gabe got closer and closer to home.  But my heart is aching so bad at the tragedy of it all.

Sweet Rachelle, rest in peace.  I am so sorry you will miss the magic of watching your children growing up.  I am sorry they will miss your loving and comforting arms.  But they are in good hands, and I know you will always be there to watch over them.  Fly my Angel and do not fret.  Your little ones are safe.

I can handle war, sort of.  I can handle illness and old age.  I can even accept accidents.  But cold blooded murder, no. 

And now I hear that Gabe's departure may be delayed by a couple of days.

Excuse me while I find a nice quiet place to cry.

NO SMOKING, and a good night's sleep (finally!)

I went out with my friends last night.  This was the first time I had gone out since Colorado adopted that 'no smoking' policy.  Being a non-smoker myself, I'd always sit in the non-smoking section of bars and restaurants, which really when you think about it was kind of pointless because without an actual barrier to kept the smoke from floating over from one section to the other, there really wasn't a smoke free area and I always came away smelling like an ashtray.

Now, let me first of all point out that being in the presence of smokers has never bothered me and in fact I actually LIKE the aroma of a freshly lit cigarette, but it was sooooo nice to come home last night after 4 hours in the bar/restaurant and still smell like Christian Dior's "Poison" rather than a medley of post incinerated Marlboro, Kools and Newports.

I slept good last night.  I'm not sure but I think it was the first restful sleep I've had since Gabe's deployment to Iraq (not counting his time on R&R here).  And yesterday I didn't once log on to the Coalition Casualty site.  If I had, I would have noticed that there had been another fatality in the city Gabe had just spent time in.  If Gabe hadn't called me yesterday morning, if I hadn't been home to take the call, I would have had a very bad night.  Instead, I slept peacefully.

This morning I clicked on the site out of habit, and took the information in with sobering sadness.  While I slept so peacefully, somewhere in the country a family mourned as their worst nightmare became a reality.  I am soooo glad Gabe is finally safe.  I wish they ALL were.

Lately as I drive through the neighborhood, children of all shapes, sized and color swarm to the fences and sidewalk like cockroaches and call out 'Bye Mom!' as I pass them.  Somewhere in amongst them I'm sure a couple of the rugrats actually belong to me, but lets get this straight.... I only have 5.  With Gabe deployed and Zack at work, I will only account for and admit to 3 of the urchins and yet there are about 10 of them on any given day, hopping up and down waving at me.  I'm in a constant state of befuddlement,and the neighborhood spawn tell my kids "Your mom is really cool!"

Yeah, we'll see who's cool when I shoot your butts down the street with a water hose, now GET  OUT OF MY PINE TREE!

Its a test, I know it is.  My maker is testing me, that is the only explanation.  Well, guess what?  I suck at tests!

GO HOME! 

Oh, and would you ask your folks if the Oompas can spend the night at your house tonight, please?

AS FATE WOULD HAVE IT...

This morning Dickidoo and I were supposed to get up before sunrise and go scouting.  I say 'supposed to', because it never happened.  Dickidoo over slept.  Today I was supposed to take my camera out for a long overdue walk-about.  Once again there is that 'supposed to', because Dickidoo decided that he needed my camera more than I did.  I attempted to make due with the little Nikon but my heart wasn't in it.  I turned Big Red around and came home.  At home I wandered aimlessly around the house and planned my day, but could not get motivated.  I decided to sleep on it.

Was it fate that kept me home and made it possible for me to get the call at 10:30?  Was it fate that instigated the procrastination process that resisted the temptation to leave the house in search of personal accomplishment?  Was it fate that allowed the ringing of the phone to break the sound barrier of my snores and rouse me from my mid-morning hibernation?

Was it fate, or just really good luck and timing?  Who knows?

What I DO know is that for what ever reason, I was HERE when the phone rang and through the fog of sleepiness I heard the most wonderful sound,

"Hey Mom!"

So now I can say for sure... he's in Kuwait, and should be home in a couple of days.  By home I mean the USA. 

But wait, there's more!

He should be HOME, as in HERE in my HOUSE, by mid September!  And if he can get Little Zachary here with him it will be my best birthday ever!  In fact, the only gift that would be better than having my son and my grandson here next month, would be if my son and my grandson were to bring me a big box of chocolates!

Well good golly, I'm too excited to hibernate now!

My boy is coming home!

CONDOLENCES, Oompas revenge and homeward bound.

I'd like to have a moment of silence if I may, for the poor Geometry teacher who has both Art AND Becca in the same class.

I give her 3 weeks max before she's calling me, probably to inform me that she will be separating the siblings.  The marching band teacher also has to put up with them, but he's already had them all summer and has successfully if not somewhat strategically placed Art under a tuba and Becca behind a flag.  He never has to see or hear them.  (must be nice!)

My current work schedule is very 'sanity friendly'.  I see the kids in the morning before school, but I leave for work before they get home.  I come home for dinner and spend 40 quality minutes with them before buzzing on back to the store.  They are all in bed by the time I get back home.  Nice!

I can tell they already miss harassing me.  They set little booby traps up around the house to make up for lost opportunities.  Last night was a late night.  It was after 1am before I got home.  I went straight to the girls' bathroom to take care of a little business.  When all was said and done, I reached for the door knob and grabbed a handful of nothing.  Shocked, I peered at the door.  The door handle on the inside of the bathroom was gone although I could see the hardware from the other side through the hole where the knob once was.  I pushed on the door and jabbed at the Kwikset innards to no avail.  Without the means to engage the latch I was stuck.

Cute kids, real cute!

After several failed attempts and contemplating a ruckus sure to wake the entire household, I discovered a toothbrush with a handle that fit perfectly into the hole in the latch assembly and was able to open the door.  I almost raised the ruckus just out of the pure need for revenge, but that's okay, all will come in due time.

No word yet from the senior Oompa.  Word has it he should have his boots on the ground around the 26th.  Its hard not to be excited at this point.  He's asked that we not drive out to meet him and instead save the homecoming for later.  That was a hard one to agree to, but I understand where he's coming from and know that he needs the down time to just get all that out of his system.  The main thing is that he'll be in the US.  I'm hoping that when he does make it back our way that he'll have Little Zachary with him.  What an awesome Christmas present that would be (hint hint Gabe!)

SUMMER IS OVER, VACATION BEGINS!

Shhhh.... Can you hear it? 

No, of course you can't, because its absolutely silent in my house right now.  Well, silent except for the soft tapping of my keyboard and the occasional crunch of a ginger snap.

School started today.  The kids left 20 minutes ago.  Even Dickidoo has gone to work.  Zack just went to bed.  I have the house virtually to myself.

YAHOO!  Let the games begin!

p.s.  Rumor has it that a certain Oompa Loompa is beginning the long trek back home, MAJOR YAYNESS!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ART!

Yesterday was Art's birthday.  Good Heaven's, has it only been 17 years that he's been driving me nuts?  Funny... it seems like longer!  Happy Birthday Baby Boy!

My cousin and her husband visited us from Hawaii.  It was so fun sitting around the table talking about old times... GOOD TIMES!  After dusting off those old memories I discovered the answer to the question I've been asking my parents for years "Were we as bad as my kids?"  No, we were definitely WORSE! 

And guess what?  Today is the last day of summer vacation.  That means the kids go back to school tomorrow, and there will be peace once again in the Dust Bunny Kingdom....

Yipee, Yahoo!

SPAMBOT, ME? GOOD GRIEF!

FAILED VISUAL VERIFICATION!
PLEASE ENTER CORRECT VISUAL VERIFICATION CODE TO PROCEED.

Good golly, I just wanted to post a comment!  I swear, its probably easier to cross the US border illegally than it is to post a comment on some blogs.  This is crazy. They use camouflaged letters on a patterned background and half the time you have to be a computer to break the code.  Homeland Security could learn a thing or two from some of these 'visual verification programmers', cos those guys are good!  As for me, I'm getting too old for tests, thank you very much.

Dickidoo and I went to the Journey / Def Leppard concert on Tuesday.  What a show!  Those guys are every bit as old, if not older, than I am, and from 39 seats back they look as good as ever. Talk about awesome!  They've been singing for decades and still sound the same.   Unfortunately our seats were right behind a major beer intake and output crossing.  I spent half of the show watching strangers butts pass within inches of my face on their way to get beer, then back to their seat, then to the john to make room for more beer, then back to their seat, then back for more beer, etc.  And being as the audience was from the same generation as Dickidoo and I, they weren't even 'hot buns of steel', they were droopy, sagging and over stuffed.  Not something you want jiggling in front of your face on a hot summer night.  Oh well, at least the music was good.  And Dickidoo treated me to a Journey hoodie.  (Thanks love!)  Oh... and when you have the chance, check out Def Leppard's 'Rock On'.  Its not as good as David Essex (lets face it, nobody is as good as David Essex!), but they run a close second.

And finally, but most importantly,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GABRIEL!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROCKY!

Happy Birthday, my little Stinky Binky!  Hope all of your birthday wishes come true.  Okay, just a word of warning... if these said wishes are dependent upon me, they probably won't come true... but I sure wish they COULD come true.  Oh well, that's what Fairy Godmothers are for.  Happy Birthday Rocky.  Love you!

Big Red has new brakes.  One side was just a mangled up mess of twisted metal.  The other side was fine and still had many many miles left on it.  I guess Big Red is right-wheeled, or I'm right-footed, because that right side brake was all torn up.  Its amazing it didn't give way sooner.  It was really sobering to see the condition of the brakes.  To say that I am lucky to be alive is not an exaggeration.  And yes, I got back in the saddle, and she rides as well as she ever has.  I still think its about time to get a smaller car though.  Like a '65 Mustang maybe?

We finally heard from Gabe yesterday.  As soon as I can I will let you all know when he will be returning to the USA.  For now know that he is doing well and is in great spirits.  He's in a smaller camp now, with fewer luxuries, but hopefully it won't be for much longer so he's not complaining.

School starts in a week.  I do believe I am more excited than the kids are, which is saying a lot because they LOVE school!  I look forward to peaceful mornings after they leave, having the computer to myself again instead of having to wait until after they go to bed.  And no more 'safety' or 'doorknob', which is code talk for 'oops, I farted!'  No more loud noise disguised as music cds bearing the name of silly words followed by nonsensical numbers.  After 7am there shall only be classical, country or classic rock played in this house. 

John Denver?  Why yes, thank you, I do believe I shall!  And maybe even a little Kenny G or BTO.  Yeah, thats what I'm talking about!

Rocky's birthday is on the 14th, Gabe's is on the 17th, and Art's is on the 19th.   (As you can tell, there really wasn't much for Dickidoo and I to do during the month of November).  I think I shall have to file for Birthday Present Bankruptcy this year.  Plus Back to School... good grief!  I think its just about time they learned the truth about the Birthday Fairy... there is no such thing and there are no more birthday presents after the age of 11... except for your mother of course, who should receive presents once a month for the rest of her life for having to put up with the children!  Chocolate truffles would be nice.

CLOSE CALL, TOO CLOSE!

I am tipsy.  Just a little bit, but tipsy just the same.  Today was a bad day, a VERY bad day.  I don't like to drink on bad days, this is why... because I get tipsy, and then I get emotional and say or write things that I normally would not.  I should not blog when I'm tipsy.  This is why.

I almost killed Becca today.  I could have killed her, and others.  The brakes gave out on Big Red on our way to the school after her dinner break.  They had been making some gosh awful noises lately, I knew they were bad.  I told Dickidoo but he didn't seem overly concerned so I ignored the obvious warning signs and kept driving.  Today, at a busy intersection on the highway, at a red light, the brakes failed. 

I have been sending all of my guardian angels to Iraq to watch over Gabe and his buddies, but one must have stayed behind because there was no traffic to my right and I was able to steer the truck safely to the right to avoid hitting the car in front of me.  And I was able to keep my head and engage the emergency parking brakes before running the red light.  My hands were shaking so bad, but the brakes re-engaged and I was able to get home safely.

So why, in my tipsy condition, am I writing now?  Is it to gain sympathy?  No, I deserve no sympathy.  Is it to blame Dickidoo?  Never!  I could have taken it upon myself any time during the past two weeks to get the brakes fixed myself and I chose not to.  Nope, this one is all on me.

I just need to vent.  I need to get this out of my system.  I need to say I was wrong and am grateful to be able to say it with out having harmed anyone along the way.  I need to say I made a terrible mistake and am so sorry for it.

I'm afraid to drive Big Red now.  Dickidoo is going to replace the brakes tomorrow, but I don't know... I just don't want to drive her any more.  She's so big, and can do so much damage.  I'm afraid of her now.

I've fallen off of the saddle and I don't know that I can climb back up again.  I don't know that I want to climb back up.

Maybe I'll start walking.  Walking is good.  Maybe I can even lose some weight walking.  That means leaving 45 minutes before work instead of 10 minutes.  Hmmmmm, I'm always almost late when I drive, how the heck am I to get to work on time walking?

Maybe I'll just quit so I don't have to drive OR walk.  All I know is that I just can't do this any more.  This was too close.

I'm sorry Becca.

I'VE GOT BENEFITS!

I was informed yesterday that I was moved up to a full time employee, YIPEE!  I've been working full time hours the past few weeks anyhow so the company decided to go ahead and make it official.

"So what does that mean," Becca wanted to know.  "8 hour days?  40 hour weeks?"

"Well, I'm already doing that.  No, what it means to me is BENEFITS!  Not medical, we already have medical.  No, I'm talking short and long term disability.  And Life Insurance!" I explain.

"Life Insurance?" Becca says.

"Yeah, so when I die, you guys can afford to bury me instead of sticking me in the freezer with the hamsters."  (I think we still have one or two out in the old freezer in the garage, still waiting to be buried).

Poor Becca insists that she will probably have nightmares from now on.

TABLE CLOTHS

I was helping a couple of customers last night and was caught up in the excitement they had for their project.  They needed yards and yards of red, blue and silver material.  Naturally curious, I asked what they were making.

Table cloths, they said, for a memorial service... one of their soldiers had been killed in Iraq and they needed table cloths in the unit's colors for the reception following the service.

I lost it.  The almost casual manner in which they were talking had fooled me.  I couldn't stand there and pretend to be interested in how many yards of Palencia they needed.  I excused myself quickly and left.

I am becoming a big cry baby.  I stood amidst the silk flowers two aisles away and just bawled.  When I finally dried my eyes and returned to the cutting table, my customers barely seemed to be aware of my presence as they calculated length times width.  So I watched them, a young woman and her older mentor.  They calculated and conferred.  They scribbled and erased.

Everything had to be perfect.  The fabric, the measurements, the presentation.  Every detail was meticulously considered.  What I initially mistook for excitement was in fact fierce determination.  There could be no mistake.

Today, somewhere in Colorado there will be a memorial service for a fallen soldier.  There will be hugs and desperately whispered prayers.  Soldiers will stand tall and proud in a final salute to their comrade.  Wives will weep openly, children will squirm innocently. 

Quite probably nobody will notice the red, blue and silver table cloths.  But they will be perfect, because they were sewn with such fierce loyalty, love and respect, in honor of one of America's brave heroes, someone's son, someone's father or husband, someone's brother or cousin.  To the ladies who took the simple job of making table cloths and turned it into a mission of love, I give my gratitude not only as a fellow American but also as a soldier's mother.

May they never have the need to make such perfect table cloths again. 

Tags: table cloths, Iraq war, Fort Carson, memorial

THE ART OF APPLYING DEODERANT

Rocky snagged the deodorant from my bathroom yesterday.  I have two... a spray and a solid.  I use the solid on occasions when I won't be exerting myself much, or on cooler days and night.  The spray is used for long, hot days when I don't have the opportunity to refresh my protection, like when I'm at work.

Rocky grabbed the can of Secret, then came running out of her bathroom and stuck her armpit under my nose.

"Like that?"  she asked. 

I'm always nervous being that close to someone else's armpit but after my initial step back, I found myself leaning in closer for a better look.  A circle of white powder gleamed brightly against Rocky's teeshirt.

"Rock... did you spray ON your shirt, or UNDER your shirt?"

"Its supposed to go UNDER?"  she asked with genuine surprise?

Hahahahahahaha!  My cackling followed her down the hall.

But as things often have a way of working out, Rocky indirectly got her revenge on me.

I was rushing around in preparation for work and realized that my spray deodorant was not on my bathroom counter so I went in search of it in the girls' bathroom.  I grabbed the can that was sitting on the tacky turquoise faux marble vanity top and shoved it under my teeshirt, spraying generously.  I treated my other underarm to the same treatment, then replaced the lid on the can.  I took a deep appreciative sniff of the fruity fragrance.

Fruity?  And sticky?  Secret isn't fruity or sticky.

But the White Rain Maximum Hold Pearberry Boost hair spray is.

Grrrrrrr!  ROCKY!

16 more days until school starts!

Tags: deoderant, hairspray

ROCKY'S HAPPY DANCE

Art and Becca were at Band Camp yesterday, Zack was asleep and Dickidoo was at work, so it was just Rocky and I... and my recently recovered Little Baby Nikon and we took off in search of trouble to get into.  We ended up at a park we had never known existed before, and spent a very pleasant afternoon enjoying its many delights.  Not to be out upstaged by her older sister's 'Twilight Dance', Rocky scrambled up a 4 foot stone wall and celebrated with her very own 'Happy Dance'.  Once again we are featuring Cast In Bronze on the Carillon Bells as the background music.  We had to cut the dance short in order to beat the storm which was moving in over the mountains.

It rained off and on for the rest of the day and through the night.  I think its safe to say that our drought, at least for the year, is over.  Becca and her friend from down the street did some celebrating of their own with a mud dance.  My front yard is probably the only place in Colorado that is muddy.  Everywhere else is now covered with lush green vegetation.  I must admit though, I really do have the nicest mud on the block!  I made Becca stand on the patio in the rain until she was rinsed off before she could come in the house.  What a mean mommy huh?  As for her friend, her parents will probably never let her come down the street to our house again after that.

FRIENDLY ADVICE

  Don't eat a spicy breakfast burrito and beef stroganoff within the same 24 hour period.

  If you feel you must combine that lethal combination, do not make the mistake of thinking that a couple of hastily consumed pieces of chocolate can defuse the pending explosive situation.  About all that you will accomplish with that action is to ensure an accompanying stomach ache while perched upon the Throne of Plenty.  Post-digestive chocolate is NOT the predominant fragrance!

  Air fresheners.... will not improve the air quality and in fact intensifies the already noxious mixture circulating in the air.  Your best bet is to hold your breath for as long as possible, and evacuate the vicinity as quickly as possible.

  There is a bright side to this.  I think I've lost a couple of pounds.

THE RENAISSANCE FESTIVAL

We went to the Renaissance Festival this weekend, it was a blast!  All of the Oompas dressed up, except for Zack, who had worked the night before and was soooo tired that we let him sleep until just before we left.  One thing I realized at the fair, as much as I hate the automated bathrooms at my store, and I REALLY hate them, I've become accustomed to them.  After using the restroom at the fair, I found myself standing there waiting for the toilet to flush itself.  When it didn't, I impatiently reached out to push the button, which of course wasn't there... but an old fashioned chrome plated handle gleamed at me from the side of the porcelain tank.  Duhhhhhhhhhhh!

Zack got to chat with Gabe for a little while this morning.  I'm not sure yet if I'm allowed to say where he's going, so lets just say... its not any better than where he is right now.  The increased number of troops and patrols is having the desired reaction in the region though, so at least some good is coming of the whole deal.

Here is your Wacky Holidays Calendar for the month of August:

August 1 is . . . . . Friendship Day and National Raspberry Cream Pie Day More Info on Pies

August 2 is . . . . . National Ice Cream Sandwich Day

August 3 is . . . . . National Watermelon Day

August 4 is . . . . . Twins Day Festival

August 5 is . . . . . National Mustard Day

August 6 is . . . . . Wiggle Your Toes Day

August 7 is . . . . . Sea Serpent Day

August 8 is . . . . . Sneak Some Zucchini Onto Your Neighbor's Porch Night

August 9 is . . . . . National Polka Festival

August 10 is . . . . Lazy Day

August 11 is . . . . Presidential Joke Day

August 12 is . . . . Middle Child's Day

August 13 is . . . . Blame Someone Else Day

August 14 is . . . . National Creamsicle Day

August 15 is . . . . National Relaxation Day and National Failures Day

August 16 is . . . . Bratwurst Festival

August 17 is . . . . National Thriftshop Day

August 18 is . . . . Bad Poetry Day

August 19 is . . . . Potato Day

August 20 is . . . . National Radio Day

August 21 is . . . . National Spumoni Day

August 22 is . . . . Be An Angel Day

August 23 is . . . . National Spongecake Day

August 24 is . . . . Knife Day

August 25 is . . . . Kiss-And-Make-Up Day

August 26 is . . . . National Cherry Popsicle Day

August 27 is . . . . Petroleum Day

August 28 is . . . . World Sauntering Day

August 29 is . . . . More Herbs, Less Salt Day

August 30 is . . . . National Toasted Marshmallow Day

August 31 is . . . . National Trail Mix Day

Bizarre American Holidays Home Page