next best thing

ever since my mom came to town last week i haven't seen my son. my daughter can't speak yet. or i probably wouldn't have seen her either. seems like when someone new comes to town i'm yesterday's news. chopped liver. invisible. i don't even get diaper duty. until their dad gets home. then my mom becomes chopped liver. and i am just the cold, untouched side of brussel sprouts. next to the chopped liver.

it's really not just me

as i mentioned, my mom is in town this week. she needed to pick some things up at the store yesterday. so, she of course picked wal-mart. and from now on it's wal-marts. with an s. there is an intersection before you get to wal-marts that we would normally turn into but my mom decided to go in through a different drive. there is an additional entrance by the wal-marts sign further down the road in front of the actual store. as one would imagine. she turned right in to the drive and proceeded to the four way stop. after stopping, she accelerated into the intersection to find that the entrance from the road that led her to the four way stop led her to a row with only out arrows. i rest my case.

i just can't win

my husband is out of town. since we live ten miles south of common sense whenever my husband travels for business an extra two days is tacked on to each trip. because no one flies into south bend. i can't say as i blame them. but it is so irritating. on many levels. so, my mom was nice enough to come down and visit for the week. and help out with the kids. i have had a cold for going on 3 weeks now. my dad has a cold. that's why he didn't come down with my mom. my mom was fine. now she has a cold. from my dad. i am waiting for the kids to now get sick. that will be a treat. yesterday, i was minding my own business when i saw our plow go down the road. i use the term plow loosely because in all actuality it is, afterall, a john deere tractor. seriously. although, i still chuckle to myself when i see it, it was relatively uneventful. or so i thought. until i saw a foreign object in our front lawn. that wasn't there the last time i looked out the window. sure enough, it's our effing mailbox. our seventy-five dollar mailbox. the seventy-five dollar mailbox that the flag won't stay up on. the seventy-five dollar mailbox that leaks water through the door. the seventy-five dollar mailbox we almost got a divorce over. twice. the first impending divorce was when we actually spent that much money on the mailbox. the second impending divorce was the task of securing it to the mailbox post. now, i go outside to retrieve the mailbox and the neighbor across the street, whom i hadn't met yet, flagged me down and told me she saw the plow come by and knock off our mailbox. sweet. a witness. we had a nice visit and she helped me bungy cord the box to the post until it climbs above freezing to see if we can re-attach it. i then call the county to report the hit and run and phone lady proceeds to tell me a superivsor will be out to assess the damage. i told her it was ripped completely off and it was a seventy-five dollar mailbox. end of story. she said the supervisor will have to determine whether they replace it or not. well, i can see where this going. impending divorce number three.

taking one for the team

i know i banned sam. and when i ban someone they are usually banned for months. in some cases years. north carolina caught the ultimate ban. forever. well, i had to make an exception. just this once. the super wal-mart is so close to our house. i can't ban it. plus, it's c-h-e-a-p. yes, my wooden shoes still clack when i see a good deal. even though we no longer reside in kent county. besides, i get a lot of my material from just pulling in to the parking lot. every time i go it's like hitting the blog lotto. so, my latest trip was no different. i found it quite appropriate that on the way there, jamming to the oldies, bachman turner overdrive came over the airwaves. with none other than you ain't seen nothin' yet. man, did they hit the nail on the head with that song...little did i know. as i rolled past the moon pies, i notice two clearance carts. one is filled with odds and ends and the other cart is filled with tinsel. to the brim. with christmas tree tinsel. who uses that? apparently, no one. because all of what they ordered was now in the ninety-five percent off cart. i further wandered down the aisle looking for the next item on my list and i noticed a couple of older ladies walking toward me. it looked like a daughter shopping with her elderly mother. i don't know why but i looked down at the elderly mother's hand and saw that she had a cigarette in her left hand. it was unlit. thankfully. but strange none the less. it made me wonder what was in her right hand. sure enough, a lighter. now, if they were leaving the store to go outside i might not have given this a second thought. but they were in the middle of the store. there is no doubt in my mind where they were going. to that cart. full of christmas tree tinsel.

still hair

ugh. i just wasted money at the vet. i thought i could hope hard enough for something to be medically wrong with the dog. and we could cure him. the vet said it was just the breed. and the older he gets the worse he will get. once a biter, always a biter. if you let it happen once it will happen again (huh?). yada, yada, yada. i stopped listening after the breed comment. if that were the case, no one would own a terrier. period. although, i have to admit we are 0 for 2 in the terrier category. maybe he is right. i just don't want to believe it. i feel like we are taking a perfectly normal dog to an early death (i just called him normal. yeah, aside from his barking. puking. new biting trick. oh, and eating his own poop. yeah, normal). on purpose. because we are. this is horrible. so, i guess when jay gets back from out of town we will have to play rock, paper, scissors to see which one of us will have to take him on his one way trip. i wonder how i could rig that game.

fork you

i have sworn like a sailor ever since i can remember. perhaps it is due to the fact i heard my father's catch phrase you no good, god damned, son of a bitch and bastardly prick of a whore since i was in the fourth grade. and could correct him if he missed a part. i am not saying that is why. but just a thought. and i am sure it doesn't surprise you that my all-time favorite cuss word is the mother of all cuss words, eff. it just rolls off of the tongue the easiest. and you can say it under your breath without detection. most times. unless you have a two year old. with super sonic hearing. so, the other day i was enjoying an entire 39 seconds to myself. eating breakfast. will was up and had already eaten his breakfast. just as i went to take my first bite sophie chimed in. ready to get up. i said eff. under my breath. and will repeats, at the top of his lungs, eff. clear. as. day. i was kind of thinking to myself that if he had to swear at least he picked my favorite. well, thank god for the fork in my hand. i said no honey, fork. and that was the end of that. for now.

gone fishing

okay, so not really.

and i ran

i ran so far away. i couldn't get away. from the eighties. apparently, i listen to way too much eighties music. sophie has flock of seagulls hair. a lot.

things that go bump in the night

we accepted an offer on our house earlier this week. i don't want to jinx the offer. even though it sucked. and it took five months to get. so, i will save the details for a later post. when it's official. since we have just that kind of luck. it made me think of how much i am going to miss the ol' girl. the neighbors. the neighborhood. the convenience. the sound of no snowmobiles. no trains. there is one thing i won't miss. like many of you, i love sleeping with the windows open in the summer. nothing like fresh air. i am not sure exactly when this started to happen. or why i picked up on it. i am a very light sleeper. and one night while i was drifting off to sleep i was rudely awakened. by what, i didn't know. it was like a high pitched monkey sound. it was a sound i had never heard in my life. the funny thing was is that it moved. i would hear it in the front of the yard. and then it moved to the back of the yard. it moved all night. i knew because i was awake. lying in bed. mad. every time this thing moved it woke me up. it was a chupacabra. i knew it. it was the only explanation. this went on for weeks. seemed like years. my husband said it was a cicada. i said he was crazy. i know what those sound like. and that wasn't it. my husband would go out on the deck after dark and stand there and listen for it. he went out in the front yard and listened for it. he couldn't hear it. because chupacabra don't come around when humans are present. he should know this. he watches all of those stupid shows. and believes them. i was at my wit's end. i was losing sleep. it was consuming me. until the day, months later, i came face to face with it. one day i came home from work, after pulling into the garage, i walked down to get the mail. and then i heard it. i stopped dead in my tracks. it was the chupacabra. never had it made the sound in daylight. i whipped my head around towards the sound so fast it made me dizzy. and there it was. i laughed. right. out. loud. in my driveway. it was my neighbor's sprinkler. you know, the tractor kind. with wheels. well, this explains everything. why the sound was moving during the night. let me tell you our neighbor, marv, has the greatest lawn. ever. and it doesn't surprise me that he is up all hours of the night wheeling his sprinkler all over the lawn. apparently, it just needs a little oil.

survey says

before i begin i totally ripped this idea off from my friend erin. she has a blog too. she had hers way before mine. i am not stalking her. she is just way more creative. she interviewed her kids with some questions and posted their answers word for word. i used different questions. these are answers from 25 month old will.

what does santa do?
pulls reineer (yes, reineer) and drives a sleigh

what color is your red shirt?
brown

what color is your green sweater?
orngens (orange)

where does daddy work?
california

what does daddy make at work?
miles tank

what do snowmen do at night?
skate

where does grumpa + gran live?
in a house

where is their house at?
up in midland

what is your favorite animal?
orange

do you know what an animal is?
dah (yes)

like a dog or a cat or a moose? what is your favorite animal now?
orange

thanks again, erin

start your engines

yesterday during the inauguration parade something struck me familiar. the pace of the cars. it was like my dad was driving. my dad drives so slow at times his car has been known to stall. because that's what happens when you just let the car idle down the road. and never press on the gas pedal. this brought back a slurry of memories of growing up with my dad. there was the constant honking. sometimes in combination with yelling honk if you love jesus. honking while yelling jesus to jesus for a double play. and the friendly toot of the horn yelling hi jake. no, we didn't know any person named jake. nor was there anyone even walking down the street or outside of their house for that matter. another favorite was honking the horn just as you walked in front of the car. nice touch, bill. and there was always the stopping a young kid on a bike, or walking, and asking where a certain street was in town. it was the street that they were on. and most times they didn't have a clue. then there was the process of actually getting in the car. walking up to the car, reaching for the handle only to find the car had inched up. repeat. repeat again. well, you get the picture. my dad had one sweet ride when we were growing up. a '79 coupe de ville. we called her big red. man, i would love to have her back. she was bright, shiny red with a white top. white leather interior. 8 track. it was like riding in a football field. it also had something that we had never had before. power windows. power windows were invented for my dad. i have no doubt. you see, my dad was the first elvis impersonator. ever. to this day, i am not sure why the neighborhood kids still came down for a ride to school day after day. seriously. after all the kids loaded up in the car my dad would take off at a turtle's pace and start singing. opera style. with the windows down. fall. winter. spring. summer. now i am not sure why the police were never called. the world was just in a different place back then i guess. i am sure more than one person thought he was absolutely, without a doubt, certifiable. because by the time he backed out of the driveway all of us kids were crouched so far down in the seat you couldn't even see us. maybe just the tops of our hats. so, when big red finally pulled up to the curb about lunchtime in front of siebert elementary it was like my dad had a clown car. all of these kids would come flying out of the car and make a beeline towards school. it's no wonder our principal, mr. bath, thought we were so eager to learn. he had no idea what went on in that car. and yes, my dad continues with most of these antics to this day.

only in america

i hate politics. and this is not a political statement. i don't care what color you are. if you are male or female. yes, today was a great day in american history. there is no doubt. but nobody seems to mention america never had a chance to vote for an african american president before this election. just that this day in history took too long to arrive. and it did. but i think the only african american that even came close to running for president was jesse jackson. maybe al sharpton. alan keyes. come on, i don't even think their own mothers would have voted for them. there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that we would have already had an african american president before now if there would have been one that ran and had some credibility. after all we voted dubya to the helm for eight years. colin powell. john lewis. even bill cosby. i would vote for any one of those men without question. because i respect them. but when we do finally get a chance his middle name is hussein.

it's not easy being green

this is will. at it again. i give him an a+ for creativity on the step stool. as for his conservation efforts, well that would be a failing grade. after rearranging the silverware drawer he proceeded to put every single piece of it in his mouth. we are on round two of washing silverware this morning.

the rest of the story

this is a follow up to an earlier post about gram's pie. my husband's aunt and uncle forwarded this email. it would not surprise me in the least bit that this is how gram puts the finishing touch on her pie...

grandma's pie

grannie made such beautiful pies! one day i asked her, 'how do you get such beautiful pies with crimps around the edges so even?'

'it's a family secret,' she said. 'so promise not to tell.'

'i roll out the dough, then cut a bottom layer and carefully put it in the pie plate. then i slowly pour in the filling, making sure it's not too full. next i cut the top layer and put it over the filling. finally i take out my teeth and just run them around the edge of the pie crust and they make the nicest even impressions you ever did see.'

i never saw how she did it but i wouldn't put this past gram. now my gramma made the best pies in the entire world as well. but her perfect pie crust will remain a mystery. she still had all of her real teeth when she passed. she was 97.

it is a fact that...

...vegetable and fruit bins in the refrigerator are really for beer.

...even non-returnable bottles still sit on the counter. empty.

...although you buy a house with more counter space the amount of junk that sits on them grows proportionately.

...no matter how many times you mentally punch someone in the face they will continue to stand in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store.

...there is never enough clean underwear.

say it ain't so

well, it's lights out for the little rat bastard. even though i hate him and have looked forward to this day for oh, so long. i don't want to see him go. at least not under these circumstances. and to think i just told you all about him earlier this week. this morning, my husband and the kids were in the living room while i was in the kitchen. i heard growling. then a kid screaming. and then i see sully being almost thrown over the gate to the stairs. however, i was surprised my husband put him down so gently. i think he paused just for a moment and thought that if he chucked him down the stairs like he wanted to then we would have a paralyzed dog. and nobody would take him then. plus, we would have to pay to fix him. over to will. poor kid had a knot by his right eye. scratches on his cheek. blood coming out of his mouth. i know when you have an injury to your head there is a lot of blood but nothing can prepare you for blood coming out of your kid's head. upon further investigation, will's eye was spared. thankfully. he had a gash in his top lip. a gash on his upper gum. he was pretty good through the entire ordeal. after the bleeding stopped he got an ice cube. he was excited. off to the med center will went with dad. we wanted to make sure he didn't need any shots. or get an infection inside his mouth. everything was superficial. no shots. no stitches. as for the little rat bastard he is gone. i can tell you that since the incident this morning he has been on his absolute best behavior. ever. he knows he was wrong. but we just can't trust him any longer. i don't even want to think about what would have happened if my husband wasn't sitting right there at that moment. i have contacted a wire fox terrier rescue group. i can't take him to the pound. i just can't. i am waiting to hear back from the rescue group to see if someone will foster him. i think he is a good dog. he just needs one owner with no kids or any other animals. or oxygen. every night before will goes to bed he gives sully a kiss. tonight he just blew him one.

money pit

when we put our house on the market back in august of last year i would have laughed in your face if you would have told me it would still be on the market today. it's been five months. and counting. my husband said we didn't have to put it on the market. his new position was only 1 1/2 hours away. he could drive it every day. well, if you know my husband it was more like 2 hours. with no traffic. at midnight. only on sundays. so, that lasted all of about two weeks. we bought our new house ten miles south of common sense and moved in last october. although we have had a ton of traffic in our old house we have not had an offer. not a single one. another reason we decided to move, other than the short commute, was showing the house. and although we were grateful for all of the traffic it was a nightmare. usually, it was during the weekend so my husband was home to help load the kids up and take them to drive around aimlessly for what seemed like weeks at a time. but when i was home alone and had to clean the house, load up the kids and entertain them in the middle of the afternoon for a couple that couldn't even afford the house, well, it was wearing thin. it seems that the people that really like the house and appreciate what it has to offer just can't afford it. and the ones that can afford it have things to say about it that make me scratch my head. we have had one couple say they loved everything about it but it was just too small. understood. another couple came through and the wife loved it but the husband couldn't stand the basement. i will note that this couple was looking for new construction and had a budget of 300K. why are you making me clean my house, load my kids up in my car and drive them around aimlessly to look at a house that is forty years old and half your budget? and then make a comment that the husband couldn't stand the basement and it would cost too much to remodel. if you can't remodel a basement for 150K you are stupid. my mom says i don't want stupid people to buy our nice house anyway. another couple came through and the wife loved everything but the husband said there wasn't enough storage in the basement. it's 1200 square feet of basement. what are you storing a 747? which reminds me. my favorite one to date is pilot guy. he loved the house too. except for the basement. he was too tall. never in a million years would i have come up with that excuse. i think we have had about 20 different realtors come through with clients and they can't believe how much house there is for the money. except one and i can't get into that one. too bad their clients don't see it. our realtor is the bomb. she is beside herself as well. we have reduced the price twice from our already ridiculously low aggressive price tag. i am not sure if that was the right thing to do. we hadn't even gotten an offer at the price it was set at originally. at this point, we'll take stupid.

man overboard

i have dealt with snoring ever since i can remember. my dad could blow the roof off of the house on any given night when i was growing up. it was the worst when we went on vacation. we would all just have to suffer in one little room. and you didn't get a break on the exhale either. it wasn't until many years later he was diagnosed with sleep apnea and now sleeps quietly with a machine. now that i no longer have to listen to him. so, i was excited to learn that my husband snored. and loudly. not only does he snore but he sleep wanks too. after he gets a good buzz going he rubs his legs together much like that of a cricket. it shakes the entire bed. now last i knew gone were the days of putting a quarter in the bed at a hotel. although mine is free i have to say i would rather not have this amenity either. not only can i not sleep through his snoring i now get sea sick. in my own bed. lucky me. a few months back he went in for surgery. he had his tonsils removed. his deviated septum straightened. which he didn't even know wasn't straight. and removal of some of the hangy down thing that sounds like a girl part. he can breath much better now even though he didn't know he wasn't before. he is now experiencing dreams again which he said he hasn't had in forever. probably right up until the time we got married. he still snores. he still sleep wanks. and as i am lying there wide awake wondering if i should jump ship to another room he proceeds to make matters worse by rolling over and breathing toxic breath in my face. even after surgery i am still sleeping on the couch. a few nights a week i make it through without getting woken up but most nights i am huffing it to the couch hoping i don't slam the door too hard and wake him up. i think he still has apnea. it doesn't matter what position he is sleeping in or how hard i hit him i can't get him to stop. maybe i should try ear muffins.

hmmmmmmm...

...a pet grooming school. 100% online. i am not sure how that works. or do i? i am beginning to see the writing on the wall...

eyes wide shut

nothing but great parenting skills here, folks. of course, i get the camera out before any disciplinary action is taken. the series with the 'amal cacks' happened yesterday. the bag was on the counter. will got it down without spilling them all over the floor. the first time.

hair today gone tomorrow

this is o'sullivan. he goes by sully. i call him little rat bastard for short. unlike my husband i hate this dog with every fiber of my being. he is the worst dog. ever. he barks. for no reason. he barks at the wind. he barks at grass. at leaves. at himself. his breath is rotten. i called the vet once about his breath. she said he probably has a bad tooth if it smells that bad. when i picked him up from the exam and cleaning she said he didn't have a bad tooth. she said his teeth are just like moon rocks. and that is just how it is. she suggested i brush them every day. i almost laughed in her face. the dog won't even let me brush his hair. so, even i felt bad at what we are now calling the andy rooney incident. the first photo is what he should look like. the second photo is what appears to be a hairless chahuahua with andy rooney eyebrows. but it is, in fact, sully. now, this happened right after we moved ten miles south of common sense. i wanted to get him trimmed before we left but we just didn't have time. i was surprised to find as many groomers as i did in our phone book of 24 pages. hell, i was surprised we even had a phone book. i was able to make an appointment within days which should have been my first clue. as i walked up to the groomer i smelled dog. dirty dog. and there was number two on the sidewalk. as much as i hate this dog even i wanted to turn around and go back home but i didn't. he needed to be trimmed really bad. so, i make my way downstairs with a lump in my throat and i start to itch. it just felt so dirty. sully didn't even want to walk down the stairs which is surprising. usually he beats it down a flight of stairs so fast he practically knocks you over. i am standing there while the said groomer is on the phone with another victim and down comes an older couple with a sheltie and lab mix. naturally, sully goes over to sniff out the competition and the lady owner sticks her foot out between the two dogs. she says to me that you never know about germs. i pull sully back on his leash and think to myself, lady, we are at a dog groomer. it's where dogs go. and lots of them. and besides did you get a whiff of this place? the last thing she should be concerned with is getting germs from my dog. then the said groomer comes over and gives sully a once over. she proceeds to ask me if i know what kind of terrier he is. ok. at least she knows it's a terrier. at this point i should have turned around and walked out. was i on candid camera? i have to tell her it's a wire hair fox terrier and then tell her how to cut him. i told her i didn't want him cut in like a show dog just the same length all over with no beard. cue deer in headlight look. you be the judge. even i feel bad for publishing this photo. he was so embarrassed. his hair was so thin he shivered constantly after he got home. we had to buy him a dog sweater so he wouldn't freeze. the cut was only thirty dollars. now, i know why. i can't wait to find another groomer when his hair grows out. in june.

and another one

tonight we were reading snowmen at christmas by caralyn buehner for the 1,098,341,572 time this week (yes, it's only tuesday) and on each page, somewhere hidden among each illustration, is a rabbit, santa face, brown mouse and a tyrannosaurus rex. well, it took us some time but we know just about where all of them are hidden now. perhaps it's because we are just a little familiar with all of the pages. it takes us what seems like eternity to read this book because will has to point them all out. on. every. single. page. and there is actually another book in this series. that we have also have read 1,098,341,572 times this week. so, we started to point out other things on the pages to keep it interesting for us parents. we get to the last page and jay points to a snowman and he asks will what is on the snowman's head. will replies with ear muffins. god, i love this kid.

pillow talk

for seven plus years my husband has insisted that i am the one that steals the covers. from the foot of the bed, he sleeps on the right side of the bed. i sleep on the left side of the bed. well, i guess this mystery is solved.

under there

now that i got you to ask under where we are all on the same subject. there is nothing worse than ill-fitting underwear. it instantly puts me in a foul mood. now, i have been buying the same brand and size since college. even after the first kid. after the second, well, that is a different story. anyway, all of a sudden i was finding that only one pair in the pack of 3 actually fit. the other two were too small. now, i refuse to pay twelve dollars for three pair of underwear and only one fits correctly. math was my worst subject but even i can figure out that twelve dollars for one pair of underwear is just plain crazy. i can't tell you how frustrating this process has been. it's just underwear. i have purchased the wedgie free kind. in two different sizes. to make matters worse i bought another style of the wedgie free kind and they still didn't work. the package says guaranteed wedgie free. i swear these gave me a wedgie more so than any other underwear i had ever worn. the package says to send them back if you are not satisfied. i don't care how much i hated these underwear no one in their right mind would send used underwear back to the manufacturer. i tried another brand. same thing. not the wedgie part but the only one pair of underwear fit and the other two were too small. last weekend i hit the jackpot. not only were they actually wedgie free they all fit. every last one of them. now, i will say that they are a size that i didn't even know existed but that is for another time.

for better or worse

disclaimer: any use of the word husband in the following post, and herein after, is made in jest. it is not my intention to publicly brow beat him or appear to be airing dirty laundry. he is fully aware of his shortcomings. and besides, to be fair, he didn't know he was marrying a mood ring.

i love my husband with every fiber of my being. he is the best husband one could ask for. after all, he puts up with me. he works hard so i don't have to. he is the best dad ever. when necessary he changes diapers. he does laundry. he feeds the kids. he shovels snow. he cooks. he cleans. to the best of his abilities. he goes to the store when we run out of stuff and i haven't showered. which is a lot. no questions asked. with that being said there is one thing that i can't stand. his driving. he sucks. this guy can design and have a machine built to stamp plastic that is as big as a house. he can run a company. but he cannot drive. when driving and he needs to turn up his music we veer to the right. when driving and he needs to turn down his music we veer to the left. i won't even tell you what happens when he tries to twist the top off of his pop. he steers where he is looking. which is not in front of him most of the time. when he passes a car he continues to accelerate to the point that you can't see the bumper on the car in front of him before he makes the move to pass. oh, and he is the only person i know that actually speeds up when he sees brake lights. he also doesn't seem to notice brake lights on the car in front of him until we can read the state of which the car is registered. to make matters worse my passenger brake never seems to work. even when i use both feet. let's just hope our kids don't follow in their father's footsteps in this department. just in case they do you have about 15 years warning.

bonus

this afternoon i found out where wheely and the chopper bunch live. across the street. i am wondering if stretching plastic wrap across the roadway actually does work. i will be sure and let you know. va-rooom, chicka, chicka.

table talk

earlier this week we sat down for a spaghetti and meatball dinner. will had never had spaghetti and meatballs. he ate and ate. he thought it was really good. later that evening before he went to bed i asked him if he remembered what he had for dinner. he said spaghetti and meatbulbs. we are still laughing.

just a regular joe

well, here is a story problem. in michigan there is a city called st. joseph. it is in berrien county. there is a st. joseph county but it is two counties over and houses the city of sturgis. indiana has a st. joseph county located almost right below edwardsburg, michigan and next to that is elkhart county. the city of elkhart is located in, you guessed it, st. joseph county. and to confuse matters even more there is a st. joseph river running through all of this mess. this drives me crazy. as much as hearing michiana all day long. it makes me wonder why they didn't choose indianigan instead. the answer to the story problem is so when the weatherman says it will be 27 degress in just 'st. joe' the odds are better that in one of those places it will actually be 27 degrees.

nothing

cue sound of crickets.

all in the family

i made chili last night. no applause necessary. i tell you this because for the last 7 years and some odd months my husband has made the chili. best chili you could eat. i occasionally would cut up the meat but i let the master do the rest. he opens cans, adds some stuff, makes a terrible mess and lets it cook in the crockpot overnight. surely, i could not duplicate this taste. with the new job and extra hours i decided i would make the chili. plus, our carpenter was here and he needs a nice meal for all of his hard work too. otherwise, it's cereal. so, i get the meat cut. put in the beans. add some chili powder. i didn't cook it overnight so i was skeptical on the taste. i waited with anticipation all day. as we sat down for dinner i was anxiously awaiting approval. my dad took a bite. my husband took a bite. i think it passed. i took a bite. it tasted exactly like my husband's chili. exactly. because it's bush's freaking chili. all of these years i thought he was adding a special concoction. apparently, even the dog could have made this chili. and the mess he creates must just be for show. now, i cannot fault my husband for this for two reasons. one, i don't ever complain when someone else is cooking. second, it's hereditary. yes, hereditary. you see, about six years ago we made a trip to arizona to see his grandparents. gram and pap. she was in her late eighties and he in his early nineties. they have both certainly earned grambo status. they never cease to amaze me in what they are still doing. driving and going out for chinese are two of my favorites. gram can even kick both legs up to her head while sitting. i can't even bend over to tie my own shoes. she also makes the best pies in the entire world. not only does she make her own crust but the edge of that crust is formed so perfect you would think it came out of sara lee's factory. i think we had fresh pie every night for a week while we were visiting. now, her pecan pie is my husband's favorite and i have to say it is mine too. they have their own pecan trees and pap shucks the shells and gram makes the pie. good living. so, i was absolutely thrilled that gram gave me her pecan pie recipe before we left. a family heirloom. and pap shucked me a gallon bag full of pecans to take back. enough to make two pies. oh, i couldn't wait to get back home and make me a pie. of course, i used the store crust but it was going to be good. i start to put the ingredients into the bowl and as i am pouring the karo syrup i noticed there was a recipe for a pecan pie on the label. out of curiosity i started to read the ingredients. i read them again. and again. it's gram's recipe. i couldn't believe my eyes. here i thought i really had something only to find out every one else in the world had the same recipe. and the pie? oh, the crust got burned and it of course did not taste like the pie gram made. i called her shortly after and thanked her for the 'family recipe' and to tell her my pie didn't turn out so good. she laughed and said with her quick wit that i didn't put enough love in it. i guess i must have put enough love in the chili.

classic

as i was getting will dressed this morning we went through the normal routine of him asking where is everyone. sophie gurl, sophie gurl? she is in the jumperoo. sull dog, sull dog? he is on the couch sleeping. momma, momma? i am right here, buddy. grampa, grampa? he is downstairs. gran, gran? she is at her house. daddy, sleeping? no, daddy is at work today. daddy making money?

what comes around goes around

i was a horrible child. i never had anything to wear. no matter what my mom tried we did not have a good morning. from what i am told. she tried picking clothes out the night before. by morning i didn't want to wear what we had picked out. she would try to pick the clothes out. she would have me pick the clothes out. nothing worked. all of this before she had to go to work in the morning. i am surprised she still talks to me. out of pure frustration, with a bit of satisfaction i am learning, she would tell me to wear my birthday suit. and then i would get even more mad because i didn't know what a birthday suit was. i thought for sure i was in the clear when we had a boy. surely, boys don't care what they wear. nope. the other day i got out will's favorite moose overalls and paired it with a white long sleeve collared shirt. nope. shirt, shirt he says pointing to a yellow, blue and white striped shirt hanging in his closet. i tried to ignore him knowing it wasn't going to match the brown, orange and white overalls. then he started to kick. and hit. so, i caved. why argue over a shirt that doesn't match when we aren't even leaving the house? so, i started to take the white shirt off and into a fit we go. again. shirt, shirt he kept saying. i am trying to put the freaking shirt, shirt on will! i finally gave up and asked if he wanted the shirt over what he had on. i got a dah and a smile. you have got to be kidding me. so, into the kitchen we go all smiles with his snap-crotch shirt over his overalls and collared shirt. and for the record, i still have nothing to wear.

whopper

the book of the minute is still snowmen at christmas at our house these days. it is a book by caralyn buehner. it's a beautifully illustrated rhyming book about how snowmen celebrate christmas. one page reads '...while the fiddler plays, and sweet silver bells ring, they sing songs about snow, and the birth of a king.' no matter how many times we have read it and i correct him will always says, 'burger king, burger king'.

sunday, bloody sunday

i usually only make one post per day. unless it's real special. ah, sunday mornings. i love sunday mornings. it's my time. i go get groceries. i run errands. i know it is a day of worship for most but this is my church. i reflect upon many things on sunday mornings. i also get great deals on the bargain cart from the bakery. so, i am off to get groceries this morning. i am loving life. jamming to a michael jackson and paul mccartney duet. yes, on the oldies station. but dualing banjos was not far from my mind... i spend an hour at the store gathering goodies for the upcoming week. by the way, is it just me or is the time one spends picking out the most pristine apples one by one wasted as the cashier is oblivious to the care one takes in picking out these apples that are not bruised only to throw them down and into a bag? anyway, i go to pay and they need to see i.d. well, remembering that i went to the sos a few days ago i coudn't remember where my license was to save me. no, mom i did not put it back where it belonged. so, i said i didn't have it. oh, and today i got friendly cashier to make matters more helpful. she says i can't process it. i am thinking to myself i spend 150 dollars in your store every week and you won't just hit the button to say it is me. it's not like she has to take a picture of my i.d. nope. i have worked in customer service for over a decade and do you know how far an 'i apologize for the inconvenience' will get you no matter what the situation?! she said not one word other than she couldn't process the order. i even asked if i could go get my vehicle registration and insurance. nope. i said i was sorry that i didn't have my license and i guess i will have to leave the groceries here. i understand they have policies but how lucky could one person be to steal a purse and a car on one sunday morning all before nine o'clock? on my way out i dug a little deeper into my purse and i found my license. i got the groceries in my car and off i went. i am a sucker for old guys but sam you are banned. say, say, say wal-mart, you just got my last dollar. and yes, i put my effing license back in my wallet.

not a goodie

i am struggling to find a radio station to my liking in these parts of the woods. as soon as i settle for one it goes from u2 to p diddy or puff daddy or whatever he is calling himself these days. so i thought i would resort to something tried and true. an oldies station. i figured i should be pretty safe. besides, half the stuff on there is what i used to listen to in the eighties. shocking but true. as i pulled into my destination i hear one guitar strum. doiwng out of the left speaker. oh, no i didn't. and then another. doiwng out of the right speaker. i cannot believe my ears. and then doiwng, doiwng out of the left speaker. doiwng, doiwng out of the right speaker. oh, yes i did. folks, i have been listening to oldies stations for a long time and i have never, ever heard this come over the airwaves. why, it's none other than dualing banjos. i immediately pulled into the closest parking spot and called my husband. because if someone else didn't hear it with their own two ears on the radio no one would have ever believed me. i need not mention i was, very appropriately, at wal-mart.

hit list

yesterday reminded me that there are a handful of people in this world that i could punch right in the face. no questions asked. meat counter lady as you would have already guessed. the wife of an old boss. i would have to punch her a couple of times though. she wore so much makeup i wouldn't reach her actual face with the first hit. the sister-in-law of a friend. i have never even met her but the things she does puts her on my list. until yesterday that was it. old boyfriends are not on the list. because even after all of the heartaches i won in the end. it would be a waste of my time. so they don't make the cut. plus, two of them are cops. as i walked into the secretary of state yesterday afternoon a feeling came over me that someone else was going to be added to the list. i hadn't even walked completely through the door and someone had made the list already. usually, when walking into a building and there are two doors you would walk in through the right door and out through the left door. not in niles. although clearly marked on the outside and inside of both glass doors read 'in' and 'out'. actually 'inni' and 'outtuo' being glass. anyway, as i was walking correctly through the 'inni' door a lady that was leaving said 'people can't even walk through the right door.' already nerved up from just thinking about having to go to the secretary of state i quickly snapped 'it says in (all you got to do is looook).' i felt a little better after i mentioned that fact to the nice lady. as i waited in line i became more irritated. not with illiterate lady but with the entire setup. as we are constantly reminded of our state's economy i am looking around and thinking i could save this state a billion dollars just with this one branch of government. there were eleven security cameras. eleven. there were two phillips 42" lcd televisions. they were on a feed about michigan tourism. oh, but you couldn't hear them. there was music piped in on the overhead speakers. plus, who cares? we live here. and best of all a security guard. security guard you ask? me too. the only thing i saw him do in the hour that we were there was take a cup of coffee away from someone and sit and talk to his buddy while two people in wheelchairs were trying to leave through the 'outtuo' door. that's right. the office wasn't even equipped with handicap accessible doors. so, you're on the list too terri lynn land. shame on you.

less is more

this post contains subject matter pertaining to, in part, a particular female product. if you don't wish to read this any further we will see you tomorrow. if you are intrigued, by all means, read on. the other day i had to buy tampons. i noticed on the back of the box they now have embossed images to show how a tampon works. this is wrong on so many levels. first of all, i have had my period for about twenty-four years. i know how a freaking tampon works. secondly, i noticed there are four less tampons per box. thirdly, the cost for those four less tampons is, you guessed it, more money. in my previous life, i was in the printing business. why is this important? i know that embossing is expensive and i don't want to pay for it. all i want is forty tampons per box not thirty-six, no fancy embellishments and the box to be clearly marked deodorant or non-deodorant in large letters because no one wants to get back in their car after going to the grocery store from running errands and have the inside of the car smelling like urinal cakes for god's sake. don't even get me started on the new slogan for kotex. have a happy period. obviously, the person that came up with that never had one. and chewing gum. it's like origami these days. if you need a packaging engineer to design your gum package to sell it, face it, your gum just isn't that good in the first place. only fish are attracted to shiny things. so let's bring back the foil wrapper with the rip-away top, shall we?

rural ghetto

where shotgun shells are apparently cheaper than fireworks. at midnight. i did not ring in a happy new year being blasted out of my bed by the sound of shots fired. thank you very much.