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.

Meteors, birthdays and hair removal

Spent the night simmering in the hot tub in the hopes of seeing some meteors from the Perseid's meteor shower. I saw 5 two nights ago, including twins that streaked through the night sky side by side in a perfectly paced race into the atmosphere. In an instant, like the others before them, they were gone, leaving me wide eyed in awe. Did I really just see that? I would have missed it if I had blinked. Last night I must have blinked at the wrong time because without my glasses on, I saw only the brightest of stars.

Not true... I did see 3 shooting stars. I'm pretty certain they were not part of the meteor shower since they were traveling in the opposite direction. Not one to waste wishes I closed my eyes tightly and wished the same wish I've been wishing on ever falling star I've seen for the past month.

My wishes have been coming true because I have made through yet another day and night.

We celebrated Rocky, Gabe and Art's birthdays last night. It was nice to have the entire family (along with significant others) together, laughing and enjoying each other's company. These moments are becoming more and more precious with each passing day and I hesitated to leave the restaurant because I knew that with the moment passing into our memories, we took one step towards the future and the inevitable.

I'm still trying to decide how to spend my 49th birthday. For some reason the excitement has kind of left me (duh!) and I am no longer in the mood for a celebration. I am not, however, going to let an opportunity to consume beer and truffles pass me by, so I imagine that what ever I decide to do, it shall include a 6 pack of Coronas, lime wedges and Godiva truffles.

Tip for the day: Be sure that the adhesive strip on your panty liner is fully adhered to your panty before pulling the garment up and on. The result, though not necessarily immediate, can be quite painful. And to think some women pay $$$ to have a similar hair removal procedure done. It felt like my eye balls were being ripped out of my head by the roots of my bikini hair! I cried, I kid you not... I sat there trying to carefully remove each hair one by one from the adhesive strip, blinded by a steady flow of tears.

Just 24 more cycles!

Where have all the children gone?

I hardly ever see the Oompas any more. The best time for possible sightings is 0'dark hundred, which is usually just a couple of hours after I get into bed... and they hover over me, asking questions in a language that my sleep muffled ears cannot decipher. They're gone by the time I get up. Or maybe I don't get up until I hear the front door slam for the 5th time... At any rate, I hardly ever see the Oompas any more.

The honorary Oompas, the four legged, long tailed ones, on the other hand, are constantly under feet.

The cat thinks it's a dog. The dog thinks it's a cat. They both think they own the house.

I think they are both pains in the behind.

The dog is starting to think the same about the cat, who has just discovered the dog's nipples and decided to start nursing again. Jubilee is just a baby herself and doesn't really appreciate that kind of attention so she just bites the cat's head. And the cat meows and the dog barks, and I growl... Grrrrrrrrrrr!

I should have stuck to having kids. At least they speak English!

So... the cat and the dog are in time out, again! And the Oompas are off to the four winds.

How did I ever get suckered into this?

Another 'wtf' moment

I woke up this morning on my own. No Oompas barging into my room to borrow my clothes, no dog whining to go outside, no cat whining because the dog won't play. It was quiet, as if nobody wanted to disturb me. Dickidoo was in the den watching TV but the volume was set low.

"This is why I shouldn't go to bed with wet hair," I apologized as I tried to force my Medusa doo down. My future-ex laughed but then grew serious.

"No coffee." he said without further ado. How like him not to beat around the bush.

Of course I didn't believe him and ran upstairs to see for myself. I looked high and low but to no avail. I even peered inside old coffee cans, maybe I could scrape up enough grounds to make a pot... Nope, I drained them the last time we ran out of coffee. Then I remembered all of the MRE condiment packs that were accumulating in the cupboard. MRE's always come with a napkin, moist towelette, salt, pepper, Tabasco sauce, gum or candy, powdered drink, sugar, creamer and instant coffee!

And more recently... tea?

I kid you not, tea!

We feed our soldiers these meals. They eat these before going into battle. They need something to give them strength and energy... something to put hair on their balls.

They need coffee, not tea! I need coffee, not tea!

"The English won the war with tea," Dickidoo reasoned.

"No they didn't, they lost the war... and the Colonists threw the tea into the ocean because they wanted COFFEE!"

Dickidoo is almost as addicted to coffee as I am, so I wasn't too surprised when he offered to go to the store to buy some. Unfortunately my over-worked Bunn-Omatic coffee maker is starting to show it's age and it keeps popping the circuit on my power stick so when the pot was ready, the coffee was only luke warm. It would take another 30 minutes before we had a pot of hot coffee. But we did get our coffee and once again there was peace in the universe.

In these changing times you take happiness when and where you can get it, even if it's just a fresh, hot cup of coffee...

Or a can of Febreese... the damn shithound has gas again! Grrrrr.... Gag!!!!!!

Pets, pests... same difference.

The dog is in the dog-house because she ate the can of gold fishes food (including the can). The cat is in the dog-house because he knocked the zucchini bread batter off the table and all over the carpet. They're not precious little pets, they're just hairy, 4 legged Oompas with tails.

Rocky woke me up this morning at 8am. She knew it was my day off and that I wanted to sleep in but she had good news that just couldn't wait until she got home from Band Camp later on this afternoon.

"Mom, you'll be glad to know your jeans fit me good!" she said holding up my favorite faded black jeans, which had been neatly folded in my laundry pile yesterday but now showed obvious signs of wear.

"No they don't, they're baggy on me, they'll fall off of you!"

"I just need a belt."

Just because she can fit into my jeans doesn't mean that they fit her, but she and Becca have been my biggest supporters during my battle to lose inches and especially lately she has taken every opportunity to make me feel good about my accomplishment.

The only drawback... now that the girls can fit into my clothes they are always borrowing them and I still never have anything clean to wear.

This pay day I get to go on another shopping spree... for smaller undies. I'm finally out of the Granny-panties. Even my bra size has gone down. All I need is the right push 'em up bra and I'll be looking good.

Ha! Looking good for what, for who?

Actually, now that I think of it, I'll be looking good for me.

Maybe some black or white lace....

Song of the day: Stronger Woman by Jewel

It's all good...

Dickidoo and I went to breakfast yesterday... Southside Deli, one of our favorite spots. We discovered it during a trip to court to fight a traffic ticket (it wasn't my fault, honestly Officer!), and now we go there every time the mood for homemade pastrami hash hits us.

It hit us yesterday and we ditched the Oompas for a little 'us' time.

It wasn't a date. We're past that. It wasn't 'making up', we've made up but there's no going back. It wasn't even a truce since we're not at battle. No, it was just two old friends sharing good food, good conversation and good company.

Looking back now I can't believe how close to the edge we came. This bombshell that Dickidoo dropped in my lap... Lord, was it really only 3 weeks ago?... was our wake-up call. Sink or swim, batteries not included. I'm not a strong swimmer, but I can float like a boat and kind of paddle myself in the general direction I want to go. It may take a while but I'll get there eventually. In the mean time I'm enjoying the cruise.

One day, some day, I may see this for the blessing that it is. For now I'll just say that it's better this way. Am I happy? No, but I am happier, which I had come to believe in recent years would never be possible again so yeah, this is definitely better. I love him, but do I love him enough to fight for him, for us? Yes, but I won't because love cannot be won. It must be given. I love him enough to let him go. That is my good deed for the day. Where's my stinkin' lollipop?

So, what is the point of this rambling post? I want to convince my family and friends... and maybe myself, that this is a good thing. I want to convince Dickidoo that I'm okay, that I will get through this, and that he doesn't have to worry about becoming the next episode of 'Snapped'. (I wasn't kidding about the genie and the bullfrogs though, that wish stands!)

Most of all I want folks to let it go. There is no good guy or bad guy, just 4 aching hearts in search of love. If at least one person can walk away from this happy... truly happy, then it will have been worth it (at least for that one person.) For now I'm content with walking away with my head held high. Happy will come later. But it will come.

And Rocky, my dear, no... this does not mean that the divorce is cancelled. I'm sorry but perhaps you will understand in time.

For everyone who came to support me, thank you. I appreciate it. For those who are giving me the gift of time by not calling, I apologize and thank you for understanding. For those who are worried, don't be. You have all been a huge helping hand that got me back up on my feet again, and I'm seeing clearly now that this isn't such a bad place to be after all.

It's all good!

Breaking the news (after all this time)

I finally got the balls to call Mama today and fill her in. It was made even harder because one of my cousins in Hawaii had severe hemorrhaging in his brain and is being kept on life support just long enough to find recipients for his organs before he will be put to rest.

We talked about my cousin. I remember him being so cool. He was infinitely patient with me, his clumsy cousin who idolized him because of his skills on the guitar and surfboard. I remember when I bought my first guitar, he came over to help me learn to play it... and he fell in love with my round back so he went out and bought an Ovation, which is the Cadillac of acoustic round back guitars.

He taught me to play the opening chords of 'Here comes the Sun', one of my favorite guitar tunes.

I miss him already.

There's nothing like real tragedy to make your own discomforts seem petty.

I hoped Mama had read my blog and was already aware of the situation but Mama doesn't really get on the computer much. She was not going to make this easy for me. Suddenly I felt like a sophmore in High School trying to figure out how to tell my parents that I had gotten a D in Algebra. I had never gotten a D on my report card before and I was devastated... not so much personally but by the thought of my parent's disappointment in me.

Mama was surprised but I didn't hear even a hint of disappointment in her voice when I told her of the pending divorce. She seemed genuinely saddened. But not disappointed.

And then there she was again, optimistic as always. How does she do that? How does she always see the bright side of the darkest room, and yet she always does and is already making plans for next year, and the year after.

I used to think I wanted to be most like my Grandmother, Baban. Now I realize that if I can be even just a little like my Mama I'm doing pretty damn good.

I wonder if Mama has Sam Elliot's phone number because I am now available to take his phone calls.

If I can't have you...

1-800-BOOBIDOO: I have a kitten.
1-800-BOOBIDOO: I can't have you. You won't let me have another baby so I got a kitten.

1-800-DICKIDOO: Bad idea. Just telling you and you know it.

1-800-BOOBIDOO: I know.
1-800-DICKIDOO: Say no.
1-800-BOOBIDOO: Too late.
1-800-DICKIDOO: Send it back.
1-800-BOOBIDOO: Look, it's either a baby, a boyfriend or a kitten and the first two are not going to happen!

So add a tiny part Siamese kitten named Smokey to the chaotic population at Loompaland. Did I also mention the two garter snakes and a new goldfish named Aku?

And guess who held the kitten last night and let it fall asleep on his chest while watching TV last night... none other than Mr. "Send It Back" himself!

Argh!

I'm sitting on the couch right now dying one heart beat at a time, slowing bleeding to death. The phone is near by with 911 on speed dial. The broken left clicker on Dickidoo's laptop is the least of my worries. I must blog my final words.

Okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic, but I am going through some major junk right now. I woke up never really quite fully waking up. Aunt Flo arrived last night and has been sucking the blood from my veins at an alarming rate. My heart is pounding to keep up with her demands. My head has been spinning for hours, and it might actually be enjoyable if I could keep the room from spinning with it. My arms and legs are as limp as spaghetti... cooked spaghetti. I feel like left overs from a Vampire buffet.

Actually what I'm suffering from is just pre-menopause coupled with an extra heavy menstrual cycle due to high stress levels. It sucks!

51 is the average age for menopause. That's just over 2 more years, or more importantly 25 more periods.... if I survive this one.

I need chocolate and Corona, lots of chocolate and Corona.

100

After staring at the hole in my pinstriped pants for half an hour contemplating a mending job that probably would only have taken two minutes tops, I decided upon my black brocade pants, lace tank, a denim jacket and swede ankle boots. I even brushed my hair. I wanted to look good for my 100th bust.

I was tempted to hand 'her' a balloon in celebration, complete with confetti and cake like the Dutch store did for their 10,000th. Fortunately for her I am obligated to be respectful, dang-it! At any rate I guess you could say I totally ruined her shopping experience and I'll settle for that.

The bad thing about adrenaline is that it makes me stink. Adrenaline itself doesn't stink, but it makes me perspire and that stinks! I couldn't take my jacket off because my bra strap and walkie wires would show so I had to sweat it out... and live with the stench.

Hey, maybe I burned off a couple of pounds! How cool would that be!?

100th on my 1st Anniversary. Yeah! (By the way, that's not great at all by any standard but it was a personal goal and I'm proud of it.)

The New Normal

So life is slowly starting to settle into a new 'normal'. Nephew Joseph has returned to his family in the south. I still look for him riding around the cul de sac when I drive down the street. Gabe finally has a room to sleep in. I'm bunking in Rocky's room for obvious reasons.


Just for the record Dickidoo is not leaving me because of another woman. He's leaving me because our marriage has failed. He is in love with another woman because he no longer loves me. If he still loved me this would not be an issue. I'm not taking this as well as it may appear. Believe me, I had my 2 day long pity party and still have relapses on a daily basis. In my mind I say things that are neither graceful nor amusing. If I had a genie there would be two new bull frogs in the pond. My mother drummed it in to my head 'if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all!' The funny thing is now that we have accepted the inevitable we have a better relationship than we have in quite some time. Perhaps we were just meant to be a young couple and then later on just friends. At any rate, without speaking for him, I personally have been happier since this all came out in the open than I have been in 5 years and that alone says more than words could.

At work I am preparing to celebrate my 1st Anniversary at my new position (today, yay!)... and also hope to make my 100th 'stop' (I'm at 99). In anticipation of the event I went sniffing through the laundry pile to find something decent to wear on this special occasion. I found the pinstriped slacks that I wore the other day and shook them out. Then to my horror I spotted a big gaping hole in the back of the pants, not in the front where the zipper should be. Did I really wear these pants to work with a split in the seam? I had calico polka dot panties on that day... Oh Lord, I hope I never know.

As for future plans, well I guess it's back to the drawing board. My 50 Year bucket list has taken a new direction. Gone are the mandolin lessons, the flight in the hot air balloon and the fishing trip in Alaska. Realistically speaking I think just being out and on my own two feet will be a good start for now. Starting over at the age of 50 is a bit scary but I'll still have my best friend (who is VERY lucky that I don't have a genie otherwise he would be croaking quite happily next to his sexy little amphibian sweetheart out by the pond down the way).

Song of the Day: I Was Already Gone, by Sugarland.

Acceptance.

Life has a new surreal quality to it now. Everything looks the same but it couldn't be more different. Steve and I agreed to be friends and we are but I'm sensing a strain that didn't exist before.

Duh!

For the record though, our failed relationship is not based on a whim. We have not been consistently happy for several years. It was just a matter of time. We'd have good spells, then something would happen that would knock us off kilter for a while. Usually we would right ourselves, apologize, kiss and make up. This time it's different. This time there is no kissing and making up. It's time to count our losses and let go before we destroy each other.

It is possible that things may not work out the way Steve hopes. He is well aware of this. I can't blame him for wanting to try. 'Anything worth having is worth fighting for.' We've been fighting to make 'us' work for a long time. It's time to accept that our time is passed. It's time for Steve to fight for something else. If it doesn't work out as hoped, the fact will remain~ our time has passed and it's time to move on.

I'm ready to move on. Not financially... my credit sucks! Emotionally though I find myself getting more confident with each passing day. I can talk without getting choked up and teary eyed. I no longer feel like a failure... broken and disposable. It's not the end of my life, but the beginning of a new exciting phase.

Now if I can just get people to understand that I'm getting a divorce, not dying from some incurable disease. I'm not in the market for a new love. I don't do blind dates, nor am I interested in a referral for eHarmony. Really, I'm fine!

But I swear if I hear another sappy love song I will puke!

Today revisited~

I just read my last post. Day off, NCIS marathon, 'life is good'.

Bullshit!

I never should have gotten up off of the couch when Dickidoo came home a couple of hours after I made that post and suggested a ride. Of course it would only have prolonged the inevitable but at least I could have enjoyed the rest of my marathon while I still cared.

'I'm not happy', he said.

'Ditto,' I replied.

'I still care for you but I don't love you anymore.'

(Phew! Is that all? Well, at least there isn't another woman!)

'There's someone else and I can't stop thinking about her.'

'Her' is a woman from his past, his childhood sweetheart. Long story short, they have rekindled their love for each other. Unfortunately they are both still married.

I thought I was ready for anything. I was ready for everything except that he was still in love with her. I could have dealt with anyone else but her. There I was thinking I was too fat and unappealing for him, or maybe he had ED, thus his distraction and my involuntary re-virginhood but it turned out not to be about me at all.

No, it was something more powerful than that. It only took him more than 25 years but he finally figured it out, he's still in love with her. Secretly I hope it's just the romantic memory and that once they are back together and she realized that he farts in his sleep, is a sub-conscious public nose picker and doesn't flush the toilet that she'll want nothing to do with him. Then I realize that because I loved him I had accepted those less than romantic qualities about him. If their love is as enduring as it appears to be it won't matter.

Still, I hope she's a farter too, and they can sit on the porch in their rocking chairs and watch the sun set rocking and farting like two happy hillbillies.

(That was supposed to be our future, dammit.)

So how do I feel about this? 'Feel' may be the wrong word. I haven't 'felt' much since I was so wickedly lured away from my NCIS marathon. It's like somebody has pulled the plug on my future leaving just a blank or staticky screen. I struggle to restore power and bring things back in to focus but just as I gain control and think 'Yeah, I can do this,' the power flickers and I'm in the dark again. Crying helps. So did drinking until Steve got rid of my 5 liter box of wine after I got sloshed and suggested that he do so to keep me from developing a bad habit.

25 years of 'in one ear and out the other' and he picks now to start listening to me! I could have used some wine last night. And where's my tequila? I didn't say anything about getting rid of the damn tequila! Grrrr!

I wish Steve was being a butt about all this, it might be easy to handle if I were on the defense, but he has been very honest and sensitive. I wish she were a hussy, but I've met her family and know she's comes from good people. I wish I could hate Steve and her for kicking me out of the fairytale but I can't because I honestly want Steve to be happy again. Not gloriously happy but he is a good man and should be happy. For that matter I happen to believe that I am a good woman and therefore deserve to be happy as well, but in this case we can't both be happy so it may as well be him since he's already got a plan.

The kids know and weren't particularly surprised. They are pre-conditioned by the accepted norm in society, plus they are all very mature so they understand that sometimes things just don't work out and families become separated. They are all making plans for me moving in with them when they move out. They have obviously forgotten my vow to let them change my Depends when incontinence sets in. For now they are just concerned with making me feel loved.

Its weird. This time last week I thought I was set for life. Now I'm plagued with thoughts of where I shall live once we sell this big old house. I'm almost 50. I'll never make enough to buy a house which means my less than generous paycheck is going to have to squeeze out rent for the rest of my life. I'm going to turn in to the bitchy old lady in the downstairs apartment who is always banging on the ceiling with a broomstick for quiet.

The first time Steve proposed to me he said and I quote: 'I want to watch our hair grow silver together.' That was sooooooo romantic... and as predicted we have both aged gracefully. He has more silver than I do, but mine is longer. Poor guy must have crapped his pants recently when he realized that I had dyed my hair to cover all the white and he'd have to wait longer to fulfil the prophecy so he could call it quits and get on with his life.

Every day Steve asks me if I'm okay to which I lie and say 'yes' but I'm not fine. My 25 year old romance has been replaced by an older, deeper love and I am nowhere in the picture. It's not even a 'happily ever after' story yet since it is not possible for Steve and 'her' to be together for the time being and they must wait.

I wish someone would love me like that, with a love so powerful that it endured a quarter of a century separation and countless obstacles but it still prevailed. I can understand and respect that kind of true love. It just would have been nice if it could have been for me.

So now that I am soon-to-be-single, what now? Zack's already thrown in the name of a replacement.

Are you fricken nuts because I sure am not!

No. For every heart there is one true love. Ideally the match is mutual but occasionally, as in this case, there is a mismatch and while my heart chose Steve, his heart was meant for another. No regrets though. I've got 5 wonderful kids and many great memories out of it. And now that we aren't so busy feeling unhappy with our marriage and have accepted that we cannot force it I think I have found a new friend in Steve. It's good to hear him laugh again.

But please... please, please please let her have morning breath and night-gas!

Today~

The first time I peeked at my alarm clock it read 9:15 am. Somewhere outside the bedroom door an obnoxious basshit hound barked for attention. I made a mental note to ignore further canine outbursts. That proved to be easier than I could have imagined and the next time I peeked at the alarm clock it was 10:30. The dog was still barking from somewhere beyond the bedroom door. I suspected the Canine-English translation was something similar to:

"Hey, get your fat ass out of bed and let me outside, I have to pee!"

I don't know why she was barking at me because there were 3 other people out in the living room. Dang dog. Dang kids.

Breakfast was 2 cups of coffee. Lunch consisted of a coconut covered 'Snowball' and two black licorice whips while sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV.

An 8 hour marathon of NCIS on my day off, life is good!

Under where?

Fashion fads come and go. In my job I see the trends ebb in and out like the tide. Fluorescent hair, facial piercings, multi layered shirts, skin tight jeans, mismatched shoes, full body tattoos ~ all in an effort to appear cool.

I view most of these passing fancies with mild humor. Young and old alike, trying so hard to keep up with the Jones, who are trying to keep up with the Smiths.

I'm still wearing last decades jeans (yay, they fit!) but I do have a purple iPod with matching earbuds, does that make me cool?

The one fashion craze that I'm having a problem accepting is the displaying of the undies. Girls and women prance around with their bra straps deliberately showing, silently begging us to notice their neon animal print. Low cut jeans and high cut thongs that disappear into proud plumbers cracks. Guys waddle around with their feet far apart in an effort to keep their jeans in the perfect height above their knees but below their butt. I'm still trying to figure out why they even bother with a belt.

That's not fashion. That's just an attempt to justify sloppy, lazy dressing.

And for the record, I never thought Picasso was very talented either.

The good, the bad and the ugly.

I had strawberry freezer jam on toast for breakfast... again. I'm not a breakfast person but I will make an exception for strawberry freezer jam on toast, again and again and again. My nephew wanted to make a sandwich. He opened up the silverware draw. It didn't rattle as it normally does because it was empty. My steadily diminishing population of flatware had since been relocated to the dirty side of the counter. I deduced that information immediately upon entering the kitchen. My nephew needed time to stare into the drawer, taking in it's emptiness to process the possibilities.

"Keep staring, something might re-appear," I suggested as I helped myself to another cup of coffee. And so he did... for another full minute, just standing there staring at the empty drawer organizer. Finally he shook his head and shut the drawer, then dug through the dirty dishes for a knife to wash. It took a while but I think he's catching on.

I'm blogging with a wounded mouse. The left clicker has been amputated, no doubt during one of Zack's late night battles with his WOW buddies. He replaced the little panel but it doesn't stay in place, sticking to my finger every time I press down upon it. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that Zack was not victorious in his conquest last night, thus inflicting the mortal wounds to the mouse. Sad times indeed.

Oh well, I suppose I've procrastinated enough and better get busy. I've got a huge splattering of pooh on my car to clean off. Some dang bird emptied it's cargo bay right over my beautiful little car while I was at work. There was so much ick all over the poor Impala that it almost drowned. My initial suspicions were that Big Bird forgot to go to the bathroom before leaving Sesame Street and chose my car as an emergency evacuation location but Big Bird can't fly, so now I'm wondering if maybe there is a California Condor cruising the friendly skies above my store. I was able to clean the junk off of the windshield but had to drive home with it oozing all over the rest of the poor little car. And let me tell you, it's very distracting to have two big splatters of bird crap dripping down your window as you're driving. It was there the whole time in my peripheral vision like a bright neon sign that flashed out 'Look at me, I've been shat upon!' Grrrrr!

Today I'm staking out the parking lot. I'm going to find that dang bird and I'm going to shoot a cork up it's tail pipe. Crap on my car will you? I don't think so!

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING?

Strawberries are on sale right now so I grabbed a bunch to make freezer jam. I got enough for 1 recipe then decided to make 2 batches so I bought some more strawberries. (what can I say, it's some gooooooood stuff!) I started crushing berries and measuring them out, and wouldn't you know the first batch of berries I bought was the perfect amount for 2 batches of jam. Which meant that I had a bunch of left over berries.

I still have a bunch of left over berries. Every time I seen an Oompa I remind them to eat the strawberries so they don't go bad. It's gotten to a point where I'm almost ordering them to eat the berries. I think they're starting to avoid me. Who would have thought I'd have to order my kids to eat strawberries! At any rate, I have 11 jars of strawberry freezer jam, which puts me pretty close to Strawberry Heaven, except for one little problem.

The Oompas ate the last of the bread and I have nothing to spread my strawberry freezer jam on!

I'm trying to justify making a special trip to the Grocery Store down the way to get a loaf of bread but Al Gore's image and warning about Global Warming haunts me.

That's okay, that's what spoons are for! Mmmmmmm good!

Dickidoo left for California on Friday. He decided to fly rather than to ask me to borrow the car. Actually I think he did it just so I wouldn't try to sneak one or more of the Oompas and maybe the Shithound into the trunk without him knowing. I haven't talked to him since his lay-over in Denver that night. I'm thinking he's having all kinds of fun and is not sharing. I'm thinking 'out of sight, out of mind'. I'm thinking at least one of us is having fun and it may as well be him... although I'd have rather it be me.

I hope he eats a real Fuji burger and maybe a Carnita's burrito for me. And maybe he can track down those folks from Killer Shrimp...

But he's not going there for the food. His brother's son is graduating (with honors! Yay Michael!) and Dickidoo wanted to be there for the celebration. And he will also be able to visit with friends and relatives he hasn't seen in years. I guess I should be happy for him instead of pouting because he left me home... with the Oompas... and the Shithound... and no real Fuji burger or Carnitas burrito... and no Killer Shrimp...

Yeah, at least one of us is having fun and it may as well be him!

THE OOMPAS STRIKE AGAIN,

and this time it's one of their own!

Life in LoompaLand is in a time warp. With all of the Oompas back in the nest it is like old times. The house is loud and messy. Someone is always hungry. We never have enough toilet paper. Coffee is the scent of the day.

I watched Gabe grooming his hair from the bathroom doorway yesterday. He is trying to grow his hair back to it's pre-Army length, down to his waist. In the mean time it is at an uncontrollable length that is just beginning to curl over his ears. So he mousse's it down.

'Do you know why I had to buy my own mousse?' Gabe asked as he slicked back his hair in front of the tacky turquoise faux marble vanity. 'I used the girl's gel the other day and when I got to work Dad looked at me funny and asked what I had in my hair. When I looked in the mirror my hair was covered with glitter. At first I thought I just got a little glitter on me, but then I realized that my hair was covered with glitter.' He turned and shook a tube of hair gel at me.

'This is fricken glitter gel! I went to work with fricken glitter gel in my hair!'

I laughed long and hard. I'm not sure if I was laughing harder at the thought of my big tough son showing up at work with his dark wavy, neatly groomed hair sparkling brightly in the morning sun, or the thought that he had become a victim of his own siblings.

Yep, it's just like old times.