He's all right

We've been incredibly worried about Dewey, our newest Scottish Terrier.

He's 9 years old and- while we expected that we'd have a few glitches here and there with his health and behavior- we didn't expect that we'd be picking up a little lemon in January disguised as a Scottie.

He's lost a lot of hair on his back, we still don't know why he drinks over a gallon of water a day (most big dogs drink only 2 quarts in hot weather), he's had unexplained fevers, his thyroid is completely whacked, he's had a host of ear and other infections, and his lymph nodes have swollen to twice their normal size. None of this is good, of course .

Since January, he's been to the vet 5 times for blood tests and check ups. He's had 4 different prescriptions that we give him twice a day and now he's eating a prescription dog food.

This latest round of blood tests and lymph node biopsies on Tuesday was supposed to tell us if he had cancer. Amazing what that kind of almost-diagnosis does to your heart, even if it is 'just' a family pet.

Wes and I had to make some hard decisions. We aren't big believers in heroics when it comes to older pets and we've been doing some serious soul searching. We decided to let nature take it's course as long as he was comfortable. We had steeled our hearts to the fact that we probably wouldn't have Dewey for very long, but that we'd make sure he was happy while he was here.

So we got the dreaded phone call from the vet today.

Apparently Dewey Boy is FINE. His blood work that had been completely strange for 4 months have rallied, and he's on the mend. Our vet has no idea what was wrong, but it's better. No cancer. His kidneys checked out OK. Lymph nodes are clear.

WOOT!

Now we're going to work on his behavior. We were thinking that he's dying, so now he's spoiled beyond belief. He is a big crybaby when he wants something. He'll whine and fuss until his needs are met, no matter what they are. Or what time.

You know, after everything that poor guy has been through in 9 years, I can work with that.

So Long Harvey Korman!

Some of my fondest memories were shaped when we watched The Carol Burnett Show.

Carol Burnett, Tim Conway, Harvey Korman and Vicky Lawrence came into our living room and entertained us all. They did it without vulgarity, without meaness. The look of an eye or a twitch of the mouth could send any one of us into peals of laughter. Sometimes we didn't even know why it was so funny--it just was.

I remember when Tim Conway would crack Harvey Korman up.

I found out later that Tim's main goal was to see if he could get Harvey to shatter his professional facade.

He would ad-lib lines until Harvey lost it. It worked...and often.

Harvey Korman died yesterday. He was 81.

Mel Brooks said it best when he said "A world without Harvey Korman in it is a more serious world"

Enjoy the skit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9T8i4FkNVo&feature=related

Harvey Korman will be remembered for all the times he couldn't keep a straight face.

In losing it, he became one of us.

Webster's---LOOK OUT!

I've been hearing a lot of new words lately.

It's kind of hard to keep up on the newest lingo, but I try.

Oh--how I try.

I try because the last time I said to my kids that I was 'gettin' jiggy wit it'...they howled and dove under the table so I wouldn't see their embarrassed faces. That was in 1998.

Just when I thought I was being all hip and cool--they turned the tables on me. I'm STILL getting teased for my moment of ultra rap coolness.

Well...I learned from that mistake really fast.

Here are a few to learn today....

** Showmance: That's where 2 people fall for each other and hook up during a reality TV series

** Bromance: 2 guys that like each other --as only friends (?)

** Staycation: Kind of like a vacation, but you stay home in order to save gas/money

**Early Nerd Special: Standing in line at midnight to see the movie that's just being released.

**Face Time: Seeing someone face-to-face instead of e-mail, texting and phone calls. This used to be called 'visiting' for all of us old timers reading this blog.

**Cash Pedal: The accelerator on your car. Used mostly during high gas prices.

**Shituation: Someone in a bad situation

**Textual Relations: To send a (sexual in nature) text to someone

** Foul Weather Friend: Someone who only seeks you out when they are depressed or need something.

**Barsexual: A girl who only kisses other girls in bars when she's drunk--usually to get attention from men.

** Disneyfication: The art of taming the world to make it seem like everything is sparkling and clean and there are no problems.

WHEW! There are literally thousands of these words and meanings out there. I'll be revisiting this subject from time to time so we can ALL sound super-cool. Together.

Huh?

Saying "Super Cool" is out?

Never mind.

E-Bayin'

I don't know how it happened.
I'm not a competitive person...at least I didn't think so until today.

For some reason, I put a bid on a motorcycle on E-Bay a couple of days ago.
Just randomly found this bike, liked it and became the first bidder.
I figured 'What the heck? I'll start out the bidding...seems like a nice bike...and I'm SURE someone else will bid on it and take me off the hook."
After all--I don't need a motorcycle. Wes already has his Shadow 1100, I've also got my own motorcycle that I never ride.
Sure enough, someone outbid me today. At first I was relieved. Then, a little sad.
Then--absolutely FURIOUS that someone would come along and steal my motorcycle right out from under my nose. HOW DARE THEY??
Soooo....I bid again.
As it stands now, I'm the high bidder.
CRAP.CRAP.CRAP.
The bike is somewhere in Wisconsin. It's going to cost a whole heap to ship it to Oregon. Probably more than the bike is worth.
Lordy, how I hope someone out there decides to swoop in and outbid me again. And soon.
At least that's what I keep telling myself....

EMO

I was sitting at a traffic light yesterday.

It was midday and I wasn't really paying attention to much. All of a sudden 3 teenagers burst onto the sidewalk in front of me. They were laughing and having fun. Whirling, twirling, skipping across the street. Holding hands with each other. Howling.

What surprised me was that these were guys.

Guys dressed in skin tight, low waisted checked pants, black tight, tiny t-shirts, low top converse sneakers without socks and dyed black hair that fell over their eyes. Eye liner so heavy I was shocked they could raise their eyelids enough to see. Pale skin and black lipstick. I also caught a glimpse of black fingernail polish.

Good GOD.

According to my kids, this is the 'EMO' look. What is EMO? Apparently it's a cross between gothic and suicide. There's a lot of angsty behavior, soul searching and tears that go along with the 'look'. It's pretty popular with the teens.

As I was sitting there snarling in judgement, I had a ghastly thought.

Do you think OUR parents thought our styles in high school were weird? Extreme, even?

NOOOO--not US!!!!!!

I started to laugh when it hit me--WE were once considered weird too.

We've even got the pictures to prove we were. Those pictures we laugh over now.

The snapshot of big bangs, blue eyeshadow, leggings, leg warmers and giant off-the-shoulder sweatshirts. Lace anklet socks with high heels. Gaucho pants--need I say more??

Yep, we were once as hip as these EMO kids.
Just wait until they see their yearbooks in 25 years!

Time

Some people have a LOT of time on their hands.

The Hat and the Misunderstanding

I own a hat that cost $895.

It's beautiful, my hat. It ought to be. It should get up every morning and wash the breakfast dishes, it's so pricey. I'll never wear it. I can't--it cost $895! What would happen if it got dirty? Fell overboard during a boat trip?

So, how did I come to own a hat that cost $895?

Welllllllllll........I had always admired the hat on the movie "Practical Magic". It was the one (as above) Aunt Fran wore throughout the film. It was floppy, fun and had a quality that I couldn't find anywhere. I loved loved loved the look of that hat.

I searched around for it for several years. Wes knew that everytime we'd go into a new city, I'd search out the nearest hat shop and ask where I could find it. Nobody knew.

When I finally located the hat on the internet, the price was a silly $225. My spirits fell. That was ridiculous price for just a hat...I was so disappointed.

For Christmas several years ago, Wes decided to surprise me by getting me this hat. His heart was in the right place. He mentioned to me that the hat seemed a little pricey--I was thinking "Yeah--$225 is ridiculous, but after all it IS Christmas".

And so he ordered the hat.

What I didn't know what the hat was no longer being made in Mexico for pennies on the dollar by peasant women who had to shoo chickens and children off the straw they were weaving.

Ohhhh noooo--now my hat was now being custom made for me in the Alps of Switzerland. By vestal virgins, who only ate organic food on top of a mountainside whilst breathing in the fresh air. The price was now $895. I had no idea, I was thinking $225 still.

Then I got the credit card statement. I admit I completely freaked out.

In Wes' defense, he thought I knew the hat was $895. I thought the hat was $225, and had agreed to he could get it for me ahead of time. I figured YES, it's expensive but get it anyway and I'll try to justify this due to it being a holiday and all.

Quite the misunderstanding.

We tried to cancel the hat order, but since it was being custom made to fit my head, the company wouldn't cancel and refund the money.

I finally resigned myself to the fact that I was going to own a very, very expensive hat.

i figured I'd wear it every day for the rest of my life. I'd wear it for gardening, weddings, funerals, shopping, anywhere and everywhere. This hat was going to be well-loved and USED.

Well. The big day came...

When the mammoth box containing my hat arrived, I swear the heavens opened up and I heard angels singing. It was so beautiful--everything I ever thought it would be.

My hands were shaking as I lifted my hat from the box.

I tried it on.

I peered into the mirror.

UH-OH.

I looked AWFUL. Not a little bit of terrible...really, really bad.

The hat doesn't suit me. Not only was it ridiculously priced, and custom made to my abnormal head measurements. I look like hell in it to boot.

Now, doesn't that just figure?

Musings...

There are so many things I just don't understand.

For instance..........

How does a fax transfer information over the phone wires?

Will the USA ever run out of 9 digit social security numbers?

How does 2 cells that get together know how to make an entire baby with different parts?

Why didn't they make our states more square and even?

Why are dandylions considered a pesty weed, while roses are prized?

Who invented the 40 hour work week?

Why can some kids pick up an instrument and play Mozart before they can walk?

These are just a few things that run through my head at an ungodly rate while I'm cleaning people's teeth.

Aren't you just glad to know that?

Gone, but never forgotten.

Cady died 2 years ago this weekend.

It was fitting, her dying on Memorial weekend.
Cady was our 13 year old Scottish Terrier. She had cancer of the liver.
It was time. She was tired. She was in pain. She was resigned. And she was done. So done.
For what it's worth, I am glad that she died with dignity, here at home.

The vet came after hours and helped her pass over so she wasn't scared. She wasn't stressed.

It was worth every penny we paid extra for that difficult house call.
Every penny.

I still think about her every day. I still feel her beside me. My hand searches for her even when I know she isn't there. I look over at the place she used to sleep, expecting to see her. I know in my head she'll never be near again. How can you resign yourself to let love like that go?

To be perfectly honest, I am as broken hearted today as I was 2 years ago.

I've learned to mask the grief, but the pain sits like a rock in my chest. Letting her go has been something that I haven't been able to do yet.
Maybe someday I'll be able to just think about her and smile...but that day isn't today.

Might not be tomorrow, either.

I don't give my heart often, but when I do--it's forever.


Rest in Peace, Cady McTavish.
You were so much more than our pet.
You were our friend.

Fat Chance

What is child abuse?

Would you consider this child abuse?

Today I was grocery shopping at WinCo. There was a 12-13 year old boy pushing a cart that held a 9-11 month old baby. The baby was drinking a bottle of red stuff--I'm assuming Kool-Aid.

There was a 4 year old attached to the cart by a string.

The 12 year old was being followed by a woman who was in one of those mechanical carts. She was about 400 lbs. Her stomach hung nearly to her knees. She was dirty. Her hair was stringy and she was on her cell phone the entire time. She kept yelling to this poor 12 year old to the grab the items she wanted--nearly 100% junk food. The food choices were one thing, but the responsibility she forced upon the 12 year old was intense.

This kid was also supposed to handle the crying baby and the restless 4 year old.

He looked exhausted.

He looked...defeated.

It was awful.

I wish I knew the answers to whether someone (ANYONE!) should step into this situation.

I came home and asked Wes is I should have done something, and he said there wasn't much precedence set for these kinds of cases. Just because this woman isn't a good parent (obviously!) doesn't mean the children weren't cared for.

I hope things get better for those young kids. I hope someone (ANYONE!) has the courage to either help them out or turn the family into CPS for assistance.

I hope I can live with myself for not doing anything today.

Don't worry-I'm with the Band

We live in the information age.

For whatever reason, being completely honest or forthright about a topic --any topic--is fine.

Well....There are some things that I don't want to know. Especially about bands or singers.

I don't want to know that the band I practically worshipped doesn't even remember making their last 4 albums. Why the memory lapse? Because they were drugging and drinking.

I don't want to know the concert I went to 3 years ago to had that long intermission so the lead singer could 'get me some ass of a fan' behind the curtain onstage. Yuck.

That informaition has totally tainted my memory of a beautiful, fun night.

Don't tell me. Let me be innocent here. Let me enjoy the music that was created.

Let me remember where I was when I first heard the lyrics that spoke to me or the melody that moved me to tears.

So no more 'tell all' books or interviews, please.

Just Let It Be.

Some days are better than others.

Today was a very bad, horrible, terrible, no good day.

It seemed like literally everything I touched turned into something awful.

No matter how hard I tried, it didn't matter if the effort was sincere.

If I opened my mouth, the wrong thing was said.

If I attempted to fix the problem, the steps I took didn't count.

I'll be glad to get into bed, pull up the covers over my head--and start again tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be better.

It will.

Green Eyes

See that ? Above?

That there is a green eyed monster. His name is jealousy.

OK-OK I know it's Mike from Monster's Inc. (great flick by the way...)

Let's get on with it.

Back to my subject.

Know why I'm showing a green eyed monster named jealousy?

I'm jealous.

Why?

My sister, Michelle has 4 free tickets to the finale of 'Dancing with the Stars'.

She'll be there Monday evening. Look for her--she'll be the one with the BIG smile probably sitting in the front row. Close enough to touch Cristián de la Fuente, the gorgeous actor from Chile'.

Or (gasp!) Jason Taylor, the 6' 4" hunky football player.

To be fair, Michelle offered me a ticket, but I didn't have enough time to fly down there and get back for work. My work ethic and dedication astounds even me sometimes. Awful, really.

It's just as well.

I'd hate to be that crazed fan that leaps from her seat spontaneuosly and shimmys up to the star like he's some sort of Chippendale's dancer. I'd hate to have security guards try to peel me from Cristián's leg like Saran Wrap while he tries in vain to kick me off.

Not that this has EVER happened to me.....I'm just thinking about what could happen if I went.

The show is live and I don't think I'd want to be seen 8 million times on the tabloid programs like Inside Edition or America's Funniest Moments.

I wouldn't want to eventually wind up on the internet for all time. Forever.

Not me.

A girl rarely recovers from that kind of attention.

Not that I know that or anything.

I've just heard.

Got Gas?

I couldn't do a blog about my life or thoughts without mentioning the gas situation facing our country.
Never in my lifetime did I expect that I'd see gas over $4.00 a gallon.
I know I sound like an old-timer when I say I remember my folks paying .25 cents a gallon--and griping about it at the time.

Right now, I'd be delighted to see it go under $3.00 again.

Since I just bought a Nissan Altima, I'm pretty happy with my gas mileage of 28-32 MPG.
I'm able to get to my job 17 miles away and still have a paycheck left over after fuel costs.
I feel sorry for the folks who have those SUV vehicles that drink gas like it's Boone's Farm Apple Wine. Resale is shot on gas guzzlers, and their owners are stuck paying ridiculous prices at the pump. People can't even give away those big cars right now.


Since gas prices have risen, so have food costs and just about everything else.
Scary when I think of those people already living on the bare minimum. They are the ones who cannot bear the brunt of this problem for long. Their reserves are dwindling.
Nobody could have predicted this. Nobody.

I hope the gas crisis eases up soon , or America is in real trouble.
Am I worried?
Yeah....I'm worried.

The Ugly Sundress

It's hot here.

Damn hot

96 degrees of blazing sun. Sweltering.

The kind of hot that means there isn't a drop of wind, even at night.

We lay sweaty in our beds on the 2nd floor of the house, flopping around like trout trying to find a cool inch of sheet to lay our too-hot bodies. We cannot find that inch of cool. Nothing helps.

The dogs pant. We complain. We wallow in our hotness. Miserable.

This is the kind of weather where I break out ...'THE UGLY SUNDRESSES"

Yeah--the dresses that must be capitalized. They are that kind of horrible and special.

My family knows these awful sundresses well. They are shapeless, crinkled cotton in an open weave. Really nasty, faded colors . Very open weave so they are sort of see-thru in the sunshine. I don't care.

I have 3 in different colors. Torn, stained ,tattered and too big.

But I love them with my entire being.

I do.

When I wear them,the heat doesn't bother me so much and I get things done like gardening, cleaning house, laundry, etc. I like that I have freedom to move, and there's a cool breeze all around me when I put them on. They go on in the morning as I roll out of bed, and I don't take them off until nighttime.

Yep--I look like hell.

I know it. I'm blissfully aware.

I look forward to the weather turning hot so I can wear THE UGLY SUNDRESS.

Of course I would die a thousand deaths if anyone outside of my immediate family ever saw me in THE UGLY SUNDRESS.

If a neighbor saw me wearing one, I'd have to quickly make up an excuse that I was going to donate THE UGLY SUNDRESS to charity and was just checking out that it would be suitable for a person less fortunate than myself.

Personally, I think a homeless woman would probably take a pass on THE UGLY SUNDRESS.

And you know what?

She'd be sorry.

Wrath

This photo is called "Grapes of Wrath".

I found it on the Internet when I Googled "Depression/Oklahoma Dust Bowl"

I don't know why, but it made me laugh so hard, I snorted iced tea out of my nose

It hurt, but it didn't stop me from admiring the handiwork of someone much more clever than I.

By The Yard

The Garden is Coming!
The Garden is Coming!


Now that the weather has turned beautiful, the nurseries around town have stocked up for the upcoming onslaught of gardeners. I went to Garland's nursery today (see photos above) and grabbed a few odds and ends that I needed for my garden--the garden that is nearly planted.

The garden that looks like it's been growing for a long time. The garden that gets a million compliments. The compliments I really don't deserve.

Why?

I have to admit...I cheat.
When the soil warms up, I put in practically full grown plants that have been sown, watered and tilled by other people.
I barely place the plants into the ground--quickly they flourish and bear their fruits (vegetables?)right away. So I look like I have an amazing green thumb. Which I don't.
Of course, I take full credit for all that hard work.
After all--I provided the DIRT didn't I?

The Trouble With Tribbles

It's supposed to get hot this week.

Hot like in 90 degrees hot. Unusual for Oregon

That spells capri and sundress weather in my book.

I guess this means I'll finally have to break out the razor(s) and shave my legs.

It's been a long Winter here and I look like a damn Wookie.

Yeah--it's bad.

I must admit I've enjoyed being lazy. I like the low maintenance of Winter. It gives me more time to pursue my own interests. Time to read, time to chat on the phone...time for the fun stuff. Anything that doesn't require a razor, shaving cream and hot water. ANYTHING!

So my legs will get a little attention today.

Hopefully I won't clog the pipes and have to call a plumber.

Now THAT would be embarassing!

There I'd be dripping in the shower, shivering with cold, attempting to wrap myself in the ancient, tiny CareBear towel that seems to make it's way to my bathroom the most. My rescue plumber would probably be handsome, wearing head to toe denim, a sexy tool belt, sporting a tan and a dazzling smile. When he saw me cowering there in the shower with the backed up drains, his smile would falter. His sparkling eyes would dim.

He'd know.

He'd know I didn't bother to shave my legs all winter.

He would know that I am the cause of the Tribble in the drainpipe.

It's all me.

Yikes.

You don't recover easily from that type of mortification.

When I go shopping, I think I'll pick up some Drain-O and some brown liquor to go along with my razors.

I'm pretty sure I'm gonna need it.

Mistakes

We all make mistakes.

Nobody gets up in the morning and says 'Hey--I think I'll make a bunch of mistakes today"
Mistakes are spontaneous, unexpected.

I realized yesterday that everyone makes mistakes. We can't help it.

That's what makes us human. That's how we learn (hopefully).

However, some mistakes have to be repeated until that person figures out the lesson that is being taught to them.

Therefore, there is no reason to get upset or mad when someone makes a mistake.

I wish I had known this when my kids were younger.

I wouldn't have come unglued when they made big blunders as they were growing and learning. I would have been a more laid back parent, and allowed them to make those slip-ups so they discovered the world as it is--not how I presented it to them.

Yep--that's what I was thinking as I scraped teeth yesterday.

I need to get out more.

Popped into the grocery store....

Have you ever noticed that when you look your absolute worst, you see everyone you know?

Young Love

I was sitting near a playground the other day, reading a book

There was a young guy who looked (maybe) 21 years old nearby.

He was playing with his 5 year old son.

The boy kept yelling " Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" to get his attention.

The young man's shoulders slumped in the thin t-shirt he wore. He didn't look old enough to have a child that age and I wondered if he had been a teen father. I wondered what his story was...and how it would end.

Then came a group of older teenagers racing around in the sand. They were horsing around, playing. Like teenagers do. Mocking each other, jumping from slides to swings. Laughing.

I noticed the young Dad watching them. There for a brief few minutes, there was a look on his face that was raw, naked envy.

I've never seen such a telling, powerful look on someone's face before. In that short time, I saw everything he'd missed out on. Everything he'd never get back.

I found myself with tears in my eyes--How sad he had looked. When he was a kid himself, his life had changed in an instant, however much he enjoyed his child now.

As sudden as they'd come, the teens left the park.

Smiling wistfully, the young man went back to pushing his son on the swing.

I stared down at my book again-but I wasn't seeing the page anymore.

Wow.

Portrait of a Mother

She turned 66 today.

She's sassy, irritating, always available, wise, kind, and unexpected.

That's my Mom.

She is the one constant I've had in my life. When it felt like my world was crumbling--I knew I could count on my Mom to make me feel better.

How? She was always there. Always there to listen, to advise, to put things into a different perspective. She's my biggest fan. My most vocal cheerleader. She urges me to be my best every day. She's that voice in my ear and that presence on my right shoulder.

She knows me--even when I don't want her to. She knows me with that innate sense that only Mothers have. With her, I don't have to be a grown up.

She's led a life that few would understand . She rarely talks about her difficult childhood. She doesn't complain about the bad stuff that has happened along the way. I suppose if you have fully lived--then there's bound to be challenges. And Mom has lived fully to be sure.

After her heart attack nearly 2 years ago, she has slowed down. This hasn't put out her spark. In fact, I've noticed that she's got a new determination. She's going in a new and different direction, but she's moving forward. I'm really proud of her for that.

One of the best parts of having this woman as a Mom is that she has always enjoyed the job of Motherhood. It was all she ever wanted to be, and she did it the best she could. She gave (and is still giving) her all to the task. I've always appreciated that about her. She never fails to make her family feel special and we all know we belong to her.

And belong we do.

Happy Birthday Mom.

Always know that you are loved.

The Bottom Line

Dental Offices are NOT created equal.

When I see a patient that has been to a certain dental office here in town, I cringe inside.

Why?

It's because I know that hygienist has been given 30 minutes to clean someone's entire mouth. This is an impossible feat. She's probably a pretty good clinician, but lacks the time to do her job correctly.

So when her patient opens their mouth in my chair, I know I'm going to see a mess.

A big mess.

A mess I get to try and fix in an hour. Sometimes I can't finish in an hour and I have to get the patient back for another appointment. It's considered bad form to say anything negative about the other dental office or the hygienist, but it sure gets tempting when the patient is sitting there wondering why I'm so incompetent that I need 2 appointments.

I guess I'm writing this because I would like everyone to protest the 'quickie' appointment. In this world of bottom lines, budgets and cut backs--some things are worth taking the time to do right.

I believe your health is one of those things.

It begins

Wes and Brodie are off to Seattle today.

The plan is to interview at the underwater welding school, do a tour and

sign up for the August 1st program. After that, it's a mere 7 months and Brodie will be a certified commercial underwater welder.

(here's where the confetti should be tossed in the air...)

During the next 6 weeks, we need to pull financing together, get a medical exam completed, buy all his supplies, rent a Seattle apartment, outfit said apartment, pack up all his stuff, move him up there and help him settle into his new place. In the meantime, he'll be busy with full time work and full time school. We'll be busy with work and trying to get all this done in a timely manner.

Oh--and did I mention that we're painting the exterior of our house mid-June? But first we have to replace 3 windows. We're doing 100% of the work ourselves. We have a 2 story home.

This should be fun.

Really Really Fun.

Movie Review-Baby Mama

Wes and I went to see "Baby Mama" yesterday.

It stars Tina Fey, Amy Poehler and Greg Kinnear. There are a few smaller, yet stand out roles for my favorites like Steve Martin (hysterical) and Sigorney Weaver (nobody does it better).

We went with few preconceived notions about what the movie was about.
Basically, we wanted an afternoon of fuss free entertainment that included popcorn and a couple of drinks.

We got it.

This movie was really good. We had figured on the fairly predictible outcome, but didn't expect how funny, sweet and unexpected some of the scenes would be.

I credit the restraint shown on the trailer.

There's nothing worse when ALL the funny parts are shown on the movie trailers--then when you actually see the movie--you've watched those scenes a dozen or more times.

This isn't one of those movies that doesn't translate to a TV screen like epics such as "Titanic" or
"The Chronicles of Narnia". It will tuck right into your TV just fine, so I'm assuming "Baby Mama" will probably come out on DVD fairly soon.

I highly suggest renting it when it comes out.

Grace

There is a place between the ages of 17-22 I like to call:
"The State of Grace"

It's where young people try out their wings, make horrendous mistakes, and are forgiven due to their youth. Just about anything goes, short of real cruelty.

Then, at the tender age of 22 and-a-half, the indulgence abruptly ends.

No longer are people willing to overlook and forget the transgressions of youth. There are no more get-out-of-jail moments left. It is expected for that person to step us and become a fully functioning member of society. They get to pay their bills, enrich their community, mow the lawn, work a job...basically to become responsible. Productive, even.

That is...until they are 75 years old.
From 75 until death... the "State of Grace" is back in effect.

I can't wait.

Lasting Impressions

Yesterday I met an online friend for the first time. We were in a restaurant.

Then, I went to my friend, Lin's open house to bring her a mocha coffee.

I was here, there and everywhere .

As I got out of my car, Brodie was standing in the driveway.

Without skipping a beat, he said 'Mom, are you aware that the front of your pants are ripped?"

I looked down and from the waistband of my pants there was a wide arc clear to my zipper. About 4" of my underwear was showing through the huge gap.

I had been walking around like that ALL DAY.

ALL. DAY.

GAH!

Some days I think I should look in the mirror after I dress.

My Boys

I live with 2 guys.

They are both the light of my life and the bane of my very existence.

When Tia moved out of the house a few years ago, I didn't realize how drastically things would change around here. Sure, I figured there would be a compromise or two on my part, but I didn't know the boys would take over.

And take over they did.

There are smells in my house that I hadn't ever noticed before. Smells like gasoline, wood smoke, leather, sweat and testosterone. This replaced the cinnamon, floral, fresh baked bread aroma that people noticed before when there were an equal number of girls and guys living in our home.

The toilet lid is is the 'up' position more often than not. I cannot tell you how many times I've fallen into the commode after hours. Nothing makes me madder on a cold night to go into the darkened loo and try to sit on a toilet that has a raised toilet lid. After the shock of falling that extra 2" wears off , I realize my hiney is freezing wet, I've strained my back from the sudden drop, I'm wide awake and angry as hell.
Now I know where the phrase 'madder than a wet hen' came from.
Try getting back to sleep after that kind of experience!

Civilized dinner conversation now consists of a few grunts, a 'pass the biscuits' and a rundown of someone's car that's having problems. The few times I've attempted to bring the conversation around to world events or neighborhood news, I've been met with quiet and polite silence. Then, the car engine stuff starts up again like I haven't said anything. Once or twice I have tried to enter into this type of conversation (after all, I drive a car, don't I?), I get the verbal equivalent of having my head patted. And then the conversation shifts back to car engines.

Our television choices have changed from a good mix of family friendly fare to shows that have the most sophmoric humor allowed in syndication. My boys guffaw loudly at burping and farting jokes, intently stare at the screen when a car makeover show is on, and they simply cannot get enough of "Mythbusters". OH-and have I mentioned that now we have a 65" television and 4 deep leather recliners in our living room instead of the sissy couch? All the better to watch football on Sunday afternoons my dear!

Also, in my family-- if you happen to have a vagina-- you get to do dishes and cook all the meals. Since I'm the only one around here with that kind of apparatus, it's all on me. Maggie the Scottie doesn't count because she doesn't have opposing thumbs, otherwise I'd be getting me some doggie slave labor. It doesn't matter what I cook--if it's within their unspoken 'rules'-they'll eat it. When the food is hot, brown and there's plenty of it--I'm in like Flynn. Gone are the days of ladylike, petite cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches and iced tea. Now, there must be meat, potatoes and some kind of bread for dinner. Veggies are OK, but they should be enveloped in a cheese sauce or a creamy dressing to dip them. Anything called a crudite is deemed 'weird' and we don't eat that stuff anymore.
I've also noticed that both guys eat really fast, and *gasp* I'm starting to also. UGH!
If you can't beat 'em, join 'em I guess.

Soooo...It's obvious to me that instead of the expected compromise here and there , I've completely given up.

On the up side of living with 2 men, I merely have to swoon slightly when I don't feel like cooking, and they are more than willing to run out and pick up a to-go dinner.

Mowing the lawn? Nope, I don't have to. Not often, anyway.

I barely get the words out of my mouth 'My car is making a strange noise' and they are onto that bad boy in a heartbeat.

After living exclusively with 2 guys I have also come to realize that they really are the fairer sex. They feel things deeper than I do sometimes, they just don't always allow themselves to show it. Their brains are wired differently than mine, and they think on a wholly different level.

Neither sex is wrong, we're just different.

I must say that being the only girl with a group of guys is much simpler than being with women. Men are straight forward in their thought processes, they fix things that are broken, and sometimes---just sometimes--I can talk them into watching a sappy chick flick with me.

They like their popcorn buttered.

And--yes--I provide enough Kleenex for all of us.

Politics, anyone? ANYONE?

I am not a political person....not in the least.

Why? Because I've been so disappointed by the past 4 presidents that to me--the subject isn't worth getting riled up over anymore.

However.

I think George W. Bush should have a face-to-face meeting with the mother, father, spouse and child of every service person killed in his war.

It's the least he could do.

That is all.

Carry on.

To Floss or Not to Floss? That is the Question

I hate to floss.

Surprised? Don't be.

I graduated Dental Hygiene School last June, so I wasn't always a floss Nazi--at one time, I was just an ordinary person who detested flossing as much as the next guy.

I even used to lie to my hygienist, just like people lie to me now. Karma is ugly.

Here's a hint: DON'T LIE--She knows you aren't flossing. It's completely obvious who is flossing and who isn't. You won't be able to fool her. She's one smart cookie, your hygienist.

Back to the "I hate flossing"part of my blog....

I just wish someone (ANYONE) had told me there was an alternative to flossing. While flossing is good, there are other things that people can do to get the bacteria and plaque between their teeth off.

I'm seeing astounding results with WaterPiks. Teamed up with the Sonicare toothbrush, you should only need to see a hygienist once a year. If that.

On second thought--maybe I shouldn't be telling people about WaterPiks and Sonicares. Maybe I should recommend toffee candy and brushing with a manual toothbrush only once a week. Maybe I should be telling people that floss is the ONLY answer to the situation. That way, I can beat them up when I see them, and tell them to come in for a cleaning every 3 months. My schedule would be full, and I wouldn't worry about my production numbers or possible lay-offs with the sudden down turn of this economy.

But that wouldn't be ethical, right?

RIGHT?

Here's Proof

Have you heard the story about the trialthlete, David Martin?

Apparently last week he was swimming off the coast of California and a shark tried to eat him. He died.

Reason #436 why I shouldn't work out.