Redneck Diva

Hey. You.

2009-07-07T16:38:00.002-05:00

Y'all, make sure you bop on over to my review blog and check out some of the things I've written about recently.

That is all.

Y'all.

What happens when you give rednecks explosives

2009-07-05T19:38:00.000-05:00

This is really the first year that all five of Tater's and my kids are old enough to do fireworks pretty much on their own, so we grownups just sat back the other night and swatted mosquitos and watched the barn swallows and bats swoosh around over their heads, maybe secretly hoping someone would get divebombed, but that's only a maybe and you can't prove I was thinking that. Tater and her kids weren't going to be here on the 4th, so the evening of the 3rd they came out to blow things up here on our lush 40 acre estate. Sam had bought some army men at Dollar Tree for the express purpose of blowing them up and the boys immediately set up the "war" as soon as the tots arrived.

We intentionally got the firecrackers with slow fuses because Kady is still pretty skittish when it comes to firecrackers and the guy at the stand said they could also be exploded underwater. *Insert evil laugh here* It didn't take long to completely obliterate the cats' water bucket.

After watching them shoot bottle rockets and jumping jacks and smoke bombs and tanks and chickens and various other small-scale explosives, Tater wistfully said, "Man, wouldn't it be cool if we could blow up something else? Like something really messy? Like a stick of butter!" Now, I wasn't too keen on sacrificing a stick of butter for the sake of a little redneck entertaiment, but the butter was quickly forsaken when Paul said, "Abby, go inside and get one of those little cups of Jello."

As you can tell from the awful cackling coming from Tater and myself, we were highly amused.

And then, because the Jello was so hilarious, we decided to blow up some pudding.

It was actually a bit of a letdown.

Hope y'all had a happy 4th!

The Curse!!

2009-07-03T15:06:00.001-05:00

Anyone who has read around here for any length of time knows that July 3rd is a cursed day for us here at Diva Ranch. Well, usually. Last year we managed to avoid anything cataclysmic happening, though, so this morning dawned hopeful that we would avoid the curse once again, thus making it a two-fer.

No such luck.

All morning, while I have ~~played around on Facebook~~ done laundry and cleaned house, Kady has been begging me to make Rice Krispie treats with her. Now, I have very bad luck with Rice Krispie Treats and have absolutely no idea why. I consider myself to be pretty durn skilled when it comes to All Things Kitchen, but these little marshmallowy delights absolutely refuse to turn out when I make them.

Once, I made a batch and put them in my fancy Pampered Chef bread tube that everyone in the universe has used to make pretty shaped treats. Everyone said "Oh yeah, just butter the tube, press the mixture in and let it set up. Then you just push it out the end, slice it up and you have pretty treats!" Paul was impressed at my desire to make snacks to pretty. Well, he was impressed until I called him into the kitchen where he found me standing there, tears streaming down my face, bread tube in one hand and hammer in the other. Then he just laughed. Years later I can as well, but then? Oh then, I was devastated. It took us half an hour to chisel and hammer and pound and curse the cemented treats in that tube and at that point when we only got out one little chunk, I just ran a sink full of water and stuck it down in there to soak the mess out. It took two days.

I have tried making them on the stove and in the microwave. I have considered hiring them made and am not above buying them. But today my little bug just really wanted to make 'em with her momma.

Would you like to see what happened today?

You can see here I have the standard ingredients for making Rice Krispie Treats - Rice Krispies and marshmallows. Can't get much simpler, right?

Okay, I melted my butter in the bowl like the directions said and then added the required 36 large marshmallows and then microwaved them on high one minute. When I pulled them out to stir (as directed on the package) they didn't look melty at all. So back in the microwave for 30 more seconds they went and I knew that it was those last 30 seconds that was going to turn them into a melted delightfulness of sugary goodness that was needed to mesh with puffed rice cereal to make my youngest child happy.

After a combined total of FIVE MINUTES of microwaving they never fully melted. Apparently someone switched my marshmallows with silicone.

And see how my Kadybug looks now? Isn't she JUST PITIFUL?

Yes, the Curse of the 3rd lives on. In my kitchen.

Da Winners

2009-07-03T12:36:00.000-05:00

Using a random number generator I have picked the winners for my big ol' giganto, super-duper, fantasmically wonderful, stupendous 5 year blogaversary giveaway!

Sonic Card - Rebecca of Rebecca's Ramblings.

Bows #1 - Brook and Kel

Bows #2 - Penny Princess Alicia

Emails have gone out to notify the winners. If by some chance they have fallen off the face of the earth and I don't hear from them by Monday, July 6th, I'll redraw.

Thank you so much to everyone that entered!

It's that time again!

2009-06-29T21:02:00.002-05:00

Okay, so because I have managed to drag my 5 year blogaversary out for the entire month of June, I figure it's about time to host the giveaways. I'm going to get the ball rolling tonight, by cracky!

I have three different prizes. Three! But....before you get all excited and you start shouting from the mountain tops, please understand that I do not earn any money whatsoever in the summer so you are getting a poor woman's prize package, okay? I'm not a fancy mommyblogger who gets oodles of swag to give away to her readers. Okay, so I got two copies of Guitar Hero for Nintendo DS recently....but we are SO playing them so I can uh....review them.....yeah. And if I gave away the Guitar Heros I'd have to send a child with them. Wait....I could be onto something....

I kid. I kid. Maybe. (Email me. We'll talk.)

Okay, the first prize is a $10 My Sonic Card and well...that's it. But really? Who doesn't like Sonic? Free Sonic at that? I could live there! Heck, I tried to once but that little guy that hoses down the concrete in the morning sprayed me and told me to leave. This prize could also include something else, but don't like, bank on it. I've just been the mood to clean out closets lately and you may get a few rolls of that toilet paper we tried and didn't like or maybe a half-used tube of lip gloss. KIDDING. About the lip gloss.

I am also giving away two sets of bows from Just 'Dorable bows! (It helps to have an in with the Bow Lady.)

Set one includes your all-purpose white bow (with French clip, great for ponytails and fountains), plus an adorable green polka-dotted clip (great to slide in on the side to hold back those bangs she's determined to grow out or to slide in over a ponytail or fountain as well), plus a foo-foo cute pink and black polka-dotted bow WITH ladybug accessory!

See what I mean by accessory? You can wear the ladybug by herself, the bow by itself or stack them on top for ultra, extra foo-foo cuteness!

Set two in two slide-in clips that really are just perfect for holding back bangs or just to accentuate the side of your little darling's 'do, plus a super-cute bumble bee bow AND this giganto purple flower with rhinestone! Now, when I first saw the flowers I was a little skeptical, but Kady has a giant sunflower and a HUGE red flower that are oh so adorable riding atop her ponytail this summer. Kind of reminds me of the munchkins in The Wizard of Oz right after Dorothy lands...

So here's hoping y'all aren't now sitting there going "Well, I was going to enter, but I think I'll pass because uhm.....they suck," and here's hoping that you're going to enter and tell your friends and shout it from the mountain tops and post it on your Facebook and tweet it like your Twitter depends on it.

Da Rules:

1. You must leave a comment here to be entered.

2. You must leave a valid email address, either in your profile or, if you're all paranoid and stuff, spell it out like [everyone] does (it) in the comment. Or email me if you're REALLY paranoid and stuff.

3. In your comment you must tell me the best thing you've done this summer. Whether it's that you shaved your legs or climbed Mt. Everest, spill it! Let the innernets know! Or at least the part of the innernets that reads my blog... You must do this or I will toss your comment out with all that Sonic trash in my van.

4. Specify which prize(s) you would like to entered to win. You can enter one, two or three. If you only have hairy-legged boys in your house you might not need hairbows. And you might not live anywhere near a Sonic. You can enter all three from one comment - no need to multi-comment.

5. If you want an extra entry or two, link to this post via Twitter and @ me with it (@theredneckdiva) and/or post the link to your Facebook wall and let me know about it in the comments here. (Better yet, just add me as a friend on FB! Searching Redneck Diva should find me.) One per site. You have to let me know, too, because I lost my mad innernets psychic skillz long ago. Retweeting or re-posting does not increase your chances, but I will take shameless promotion if you want to give it.

6. This fabulous event of prize-giving will end on Friday, July 3rd at noon and I will draw the winners at that time. Winners will be posted here and I'll also throw an email your way, too. If you do not reply with a mailing address by Monday, July 6th I'll re-draw and you forfeit your amazing prize.

Good luck and thanks for hanging around here the last 5 years!

I'm Not Who I Was

2009-06-25T11:42:00.001-05:00

As you may know, I celebrated my 5 year blogaversary on the 7th of this month with very little fanfare and celebration at the time. Mainly because that exact day was the beginning of a rough couple of weeks that are just now starting to wind down. I wanted to make a big deal out of the whole shebang because FIVE YEARS seems like such a big deal, but I guess if I wanted to make that big a deal out of it I'd have started planning it far enough ahead that a bump in the road wouldn't have been an issue. However, I am not known for my mad planning-ahead skillz, so here we are 2 1/2 weeks later.

I am the first to admit it - I am a sentimental fool. I cry at sappy commercials, I sit at the airport and watch total strangers greet at the gate and tear up, I cannot not cry when Taps is played at a funeral or when the flag is unfurled and you can forget about me watching anything on Lifetime. That being said, I tend to also look back on my past and reflect. Often. It's not regret that causes me to do this, it's just something I do. I'm weird like that.

Just last night I had a conversation on Facebook with a wonderful friend from high school, both of us on the sentimental side, both of us very sensitive and both of us looking back at our teenage years with a mixture of horror, embarrassment and maybe a twinge of "Wow, wish that had played out differently." The evening's chat stemmed from a recently posted picture of me at age 21 on a girls' night out with the three girls I ran around with our Senior year. In that picture I had attrociously orange dyed hair and GIGANTIC glasses and oh wow, I wish someone had been kind enough to gently say to me, "Aw honey...your head looks like a giant carrot. Please fix that awful mess. Now. Because in 18 years they are going to have reality shows based on people like you." Alas, no one did and there is now photographic proof that I was apparently blind in my 20's.

The point? I'm getting there.

I look back at that picture kind of like how I look back on the blog posts from five years ago. My first posts are atrocious; at least to my critical eye, they are anyway. I see someone who was trying way too hard and trying to perform like a funny little monkey. Fortunately now I have found my groove. I hope. It's taken five years to get me here and it may take five or ten more to make me really, really good. Who knows. I may be as good as I'm gonna get.

... but now, the point.

I'm not who I was.

I find myself listening to a song by Brandon Heath often these days. The song is about how he found an old photograph of an old friend and how he wishes he could show them how he's changed. Coincidence? I think not. This song is kind of how I feel about my life. I am not the same person I was five years ago....or ten....or fifteen....thirty five.... And all the people in my life - in my past - aren't the same as they were. I'm trying to keep that in mind these days.

While there are certain things about me that are the same as they've always been and will probably never change, there are so, so many thing about me that have. And I am thankful for that. I'm not who I was.

If you browse around my blog long enough you are going to find entries written on

...days I was happy and days I was sad...

...days I was angry and days I was adventurous...

...days I was totally in the running for Mother of the Year and days I wasn't...

...times I was scared and days I laughed at my wonderful Oklahoma life...

...days I was sick and days I gave up...

...times I was close to God and days I felt alone and far away from Him...

The point is...if you search this site long enough you're liable to find anything. Kind of how if you're around me long enough you're probably going to see all the different facets that make up me; the good, the bad and the ugly, so to speak. The highs and lows, the ins and outs, the redneck and the diva.

A year ago I began the slow, painstaking process of cleaning all the cuss words out of here, a housecleaning, so to speak - something that made my mother utterly joyous, by the way. It was a personal decision, something laid on my heart by God and Him alone. During the process of seeking out the days my mouth was particularly filthy, I have found posts that make me kind of cringe. I have not, however, gone in and removed very many posts from then, though, because well, it's who I was at the time. It's not who I am now and who I am now isn't who I may be five years from now.

I started blogging five years ago to chronicle my life, my kids' life, my journey through divahood and redneckedness and I'll be danged if I change that. I am who I am. I am not perfect. I am a child of God who messes up and fails miserably, but I am saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a blogger and oh boy, am I human. Do I always hit the mark? Do I always live up to expectations? Do I always do what's best? Goodness no. Do I try? You betcha. I aggrivate my husband, I continually cause my children to loathe my very existence for making them do such deplorable things as clean their rooms and mind their manners, I blog about things that make my mother shake her head, I fall short when it comes to serving God...

It's all a part of this grand process called life. My life.

Yeah.

Boom Boom Shakka Lakka

2009-06-24T22:32:00.000-05:00

This afternoon we saw the trailer for Ice Age 3 with the song "Walk the Dinosaur." Of course, being a teen in the 90's I knew the song well and started singing "boom boom shakka lakka lakka boom, boom boom shakka lakka boom boom" with much gusto and fervor.

My 12 year old just looked at me with the blankest stare that held mild undertones of disdain. Her look totally stopped me in mid shakka lakka and I said, "Well, it was cool back when I was in junior high."

She didn't even blink when she said, "Was, Mom. Was."

In a week

2009-06-20T20:58:00.002-05:00

In the past week...

...I ate a Peanut Buster Parfait for the first time in about 20 years. That last bite in the bottom of the cup that is nothing more than glob upon glob of hot fudge still makes me gag, but it was still dang good.

...I switched to Google Chrome. And while I continually try to hit "refresh" on the right side of the address bar I still big puffy pink heart it.

...I earned $30.

...I have been reminded that if we would just have a "love them like Jesus" attitude toward every person we encounter the world would be better. I am working very hard on this.

...we got copies of the two new Guitar Hero for NintendoDS and I think I've given myself carpal tunnel.

...I have realized that it was the birth of one little boy that drew our family closer than it's ever been. I am so thankful for that little boy because I am so much more thankful for my family now.

...we took off driving on one of Paul's days off and spent pretty much the entire day in the truck. The original purpose of the excursion was to shop for pellet stoves, but instead we just drove down to the dam, visited Dairy Queen and a really stinky bait store.

...I held my breath so long in the above-mentioned bait store that I got light-headed.

...I think my couch has developed a permanent imprint of my hind-end.

...I have started writing my belated blogaversary post and have also stopped writing it while waiting for inspiration.

...I booked an Uppercase Living open house. Now to paint the living room so I can justify buying pretty words to put on my walls...

...I have discovered that the ants invading my home are purely nocturnal. I wake up at 5:30 in the morning and there are dozens of the little buggers scurrying around my sink and after killing them all and repeatedly mumbling curses on their little three-sectioned bodies while I wait for the coffee to brew, there are no more to be seen until the next morning. Go figure.

...I have been let down and disappointed.

...I have been uplifted and encouraged.

...I have fallen madly and deeply in love with my new Crocs flipflops.

...I have seriously wondered if we scared off our Amish friend because it's nearly July and we haven't heard back from his bearded little self.

...I grounded my two oldest children for having a flippin' knock down dragout wherein brother punched sister and sister threw brother into a desk. It's like an episode of WWE around here at any given moment.

...summer has come to Oklahoma even though summer won't even officially get here until tomorrow. It's been so Oklahumid here it's nearly swimmable.

...I sweat right down my butt crack not once but twice.

...I have realized that posts like these are a serious copout - and I really only realized this in the last like, minute.

What a girl wants

2009-06-11T19:50:00.000-05:00

I want to not be angry.

I want to do this to my keyboard: lasdigjf'oaweifual/dkmvaL'dvijalvkna"dliogvjadlkgmaldkvua[oweiutq23809ualdskvma

>b,ma'oidsjgla:dmg'aoiweglakdsgjadogijaedglkmlaesidfja'sdiogjaelvkmoaiwev aldkva
d

asldvkiaevialdkvoa;iwlaajalfdfkjldfkjldfskljsdfkljasdfkjlasdfkjladfsjlafsdkjl

I want to just slide right on into menopause without hassling with all this peri-menopause mess. I'm having the hot flashes, mood swings and other symptoms AND I'm still having periods. SO. NOT. FAIR. I shouldn't have to do both.

I want to buy luggage.

I want a reason to buy luggage.

I want to pack my van with the kayaks, the cooler, the tent, an air mattress, a 50 gallon drum of OFF, sunscreen and the husband and kids and take off to the river for about three days. And while I am normally wholly against such practices, I would totally turn off my cell phone.

I want to see a tornado. Again.

I want a hippopotamus for Christmas.

I want poor ol' Mike Bettes to see twelve dozen tornadoes a day until Vortex2 is over, bless his heart.

I want to start FlyLady again and stick with it.

I want pretty toenails.

I want a Mountain Dew.

I want to meet all the wonderful women bloggers I missed out on seeing last month at Mom's Night Out.

I want my MTV.

I want worship and fellowship and a sense of family without religion and politics getting in the way. I'm afraid I won't find that in a Baptist church. That makes me sad.

I want you to leave a comment wishing me a Happy 5th Blogaversary since I kind of forgot. Yeah. 5 years blogging and I spent the day with my feet in the creek, watching my kids splash and play and having some seriously wonderful conversation with my little sister.

I want you to stay tuned because in two weeks I will have my act together enough to host a giveaway in honor of my big 5th Blogaversary - you know, the one I forgot.

We're all batty! Let's go fishing!

2009-06-10T14:34:00.002-05:00

Because there is still hope that someday I will actually WRITE something again, I am posting here to make sure you keep coming back. I swear I'm still full of redneckedy humor, but right now it's 87 degrees in my house and we have no water. Excuse me if I'm feeling a bit uninspired. Yes, I realize this does not excuse the previous week of not posting, but you just hush now and look at the pretty pictures.

Mom and Dad picked up Kady weekend before last to spend the night. When they left, they stopped the car about halfway down the driveway and sat there awhile. I assumed there was a moment of panic when Kady couldn't find her lip gloss or something. Eventually they took off again and then the phone rang. Mom said, "There's a bat hanging on your fence down the driveway." I thanked her for the info, announced that there was a nocturnal flying mammal hanging on the fence and watched as Abby and Sam scurried around for shoes while Paul headed for the gun cabinet.

Here's my brave husband checking out the situation. Please do not comment on his white legs. He owns many, many guns. The camera was on ultra mega zoom because no way in HECK was i getting close to that mouse with wings.

You've heard people say, "Well, it's better than a poke with a stick," right? Well, I'm not sure the bat could answer that way, seeing as how he was repeatedly poked with the barrel of a gun that particular day.

Poor nasty critter was caught on a barb and had managed to entangle itself around and around the strand of fence. It was really angry about it, too. Tried to bite the gun several times. Ingrate. Paul was just trying to help.

It was when the bat did THIS that Abby, Sam and I all screamed at the top of our lungs like the big girlie babies we are.

It wasn't long after that Paul managed to untangle the nasty critter and it flew off to say to his family members, "How many rednecks does it take to free a bat from a fence? One! Two! Three! Four! Four magnificent rednecks! MUAH HAHAHAHAH" *thunder and lightning*

Last Friday the Oklahoma Wildlife Conservation Dept. held a fishing day for kids at the Vo-Tech. Since I am not working this summer and Paul recently took a $2/hr pay cut we are on a summerlong mission to find free or incredibly cheap things to do with the kids this summer. They stocked the pond, provided the pole and bait - all we had to do was show up. I got Tater's tots for the day and hauled us all down for a day of fishing. I am not a fisher-person, but I am trying to be open to new experiences and not let me squeamishness keep my children from experiencing things. You may pat me on the back.

Here's Tater's tots and Kady in the background) gearing up for some fishy goodness. Yay.

You can tell this child is mine - who else wears bows when they go fishing? She was the only one there wearing bows, by the way. Big surprise, right?

Kady caught the first fish of the day and ended up catching three before the morning was over. Abby caught two and Sam caught one. The Tots didn't catch a durn thing. However, TotOne won some lures in the doorprize drawings. She held them up to me with a look of total disgust on her face and said, "Oh. Great. I'm supposed to use these for the fish I can't seem to catch?" Poor thing.

My Aunt Janet had Nonner for the day and decided to come down and experience the fun with us. She was a great help, considering she knew how to bait a hook. Wait, let me clarify - I know how to bait a hook, I just choose NOT to. Anyway, I don't know what I'd have done without her because she was incredibly helpful when lines got tangled and bait got snatched. Nonner wanted his hands on that fish soooooo bad....

I was proud of myself for taking the kids without Paul. So proud that I became an official redneck that day.

Ow.

If you're not a friend of mine on Facebook you probably don't know that I just recently got about 14 inches of hair cut off of my little redneck head. It was down past my bra strap in the back when I straightened it, just above when left curly.

I had let it kind of get out of hand and really never intended to let it get that long, but Paul really likes long hair and if I haven't mentioned it before, we're stinkin' BROKE this summer so a haircut was kind of low priority for me. However, one day Paul found me digging through the bathroom cabinet looking for his hair trimmers because I was going to shave my mane right then and there and I didn't care if I looked like Susan Powter when it was over, my hair was DRIVING ME BATTY. (punny, huh?)

Here's my hair at Christmas, which was a whole 6 months ago. Long and not fuzzy and well-behaved. I loved my hair then. We got along fabulously, my hair and I.

But something happened when humidity came along this year....maybe my hair was just longing for some attention that I couldn't give it. Maybe it was just hanging around with the wrong crowd. We'll never know. I sent it away. Don't judge me.

And here I am just last night with my little sis, looking happy and far less hairy. Granted, not a particularly glamorous shot of my new 'do, but hey, we were at a park in 900% humidity a mere hour before my NOAA weather radio started chirping, alerting us of impending doom. I don't think it's too awful bad.

And while there's a rare picture of the two of us here for all the innerweb to see, give us your opinion, Constant Reader - do we look alike? We do not see it AT ALL, yet we've each had people stop us in public places to ask if we're related to each other. We see no resemblance whatsoever, seeing as how she looks looks like a tanned, blonde cutie pie and I look like a pale, unkempt redneck.

But I'm curious - what do you think?

Because it's nearly summer, that's why

2009-06-04T17:31:00.001-05:00

Why am I posting two posts within 24 hours then nothing for a week? Then a post here, a post there....then nothing for a week?

Because I can't keep my rear at home these days.

And I wish I could say I was out blazing new territories and having grand adventures and finding a cure for the common cold and running with scissors and such, but really it's pretty mundane.

Tuesday and Wednesday we here at Diva Ranch were hired by my parents to haul some shingles because they, too, are entirely too busy to breathe, much less haul their shingles to the incinerator. In the course of a little over 24 hours we loaded, hauled and unloaded over 2 tons of shingles. Considering I abhor all types of physical labor, imagine how much I enjoyed it. It wasn't really fun, but Mom agreed to write a check to the electric company in the amount of our last bill in exchange for the work. Hey, it moved their shingles and kept our power on. However, Paul said that if they ever need shingles hauled again we are out of the country. Forever.

I thought I'd share some pictures of my crew from when we went fishing last week. Wait, let me rephrase - from when we fed the fish last week. We successfully fed those ravenous little nasties two dozen worms before the mosquitos and gnats ran us home. Conspiracy theory? Oh yeah.

Paul headed down ahead of the kids and me and had five chairs set up with four rods - because uhm, I don't fish, ya know. And by the way, we are not the litterbugs that left that mess between Kady and Abby's chairs. That was there when we got there. It included a half-burnt dirty diaper and everybody knows diapers don't burn. Duh. Just ask a landfill.

They look bored. Heck, how could they not look that way? Fishing IS boring! Kady looks insanely happy, but that was just mere moments before some gigantic shark or possibly killer whale snatched her fishing pole and shot it straight into the lake like it was rocket-propelled.

Paul and Ab, just sitting there looking like Hoovers. They just have that Hoover look about them. God love 'em.

Sam's first lesson in How to Bait a Hook, or as Abby called it "How to Cruelly Kill a Poor Defenseless Worm," but hey, to-may-to, to-mah-to.

Kady holding onto her pole after her fearless daddy braved the menacing beast that stole her pole and won it back fearlessly. Fishing wasn't as much fun for her after that because she was a nervous wreck it would disappear again.

My little girl that is looking less and less like a little girl every day.... *sob*

And after my sister scolded me for not taking pictures of myself and reminding me that my children are only going to be this age once and when they're old they're going to wonder where their mother was during their formative years because she's certainly not in any pictures, I took a deep breath and posed for one of those cheesy, hold the camera out in front of us and smile dorkily pictures that everyone takes of themselves and their offspring or signifigant other.

So there ya go - proof I existed.

And proof I need to wear lipstick. Even while fishing.

Turns out

2009-05-26T17:04:00.002-05:00

Friday night we attended Paul's youngest niece's high school graduation at my alma mater, Wyandotte High. I have attended very few graduations since my own and I think this was the first one I've attended at Wyandotte in the 18 years since then. My class, the class of 1991, was the first class of incredibly young, seemingly invincible, teens to walk across the stage set up on the new Brewster Field. Thousands of others had graduated on the old field and in the New Gym, but we were the first on the new field. This has afforded us nothing in life - I have yet to see the need to put it on a job application and quite frankly, no one is even that impressed when that particular piece of trivia comes up in casual conversation.

As I sat there swatting and scratching at the chiggers that were slowly eating away at mine and my oldest daughter's flesh in tiny, chigger-bite-size chunks, I got suddenly thoughtful. Not just thoughtful about whether or not I had enough Calamine lotion to quell the itching once I got home, but thoughtful about the kids who were sitting in those folding chairs down on that football field in black and white robes. There were about 45 of them and they looked way more confident and mature than I looked and felt at 18. These girls had perfectly highlighted hair, designer sunglasses and clothes that will never get them featured on What Not to Wear. I wore a mini mini-dress to my graduation and the only reason I wore it was because my mother hated it. It probably looked horrible on me, but I didn't care. I had gigantic Aqua-netted hair and plans to make out with my boyfriend later that night.

Friday night one young man got a $14,000 cattle judging scholarship and another girl got TWO $35,000 scholarships to OU and OSU, one girl took home probably $20,000 in all sorts of separate scholarships. 18 years ago, I got a Norse scholarship to NEO, our local junior college, for $500 and the alumni association's scholarship for $250. Yes, I had said scholarships but I didn't know what to do with them. The thought of enrolling in college terrified me to pieces and I didn't even want to go. To this day college still terrifies me and I've tried it twice now.

I wondered if those kids realize what's ahead of them. I know when I was sitting there, fanning myself in my folding chair at the tender age of 18 I thought I had it figured out, I thought I knew what was going to happen at certain points. I now know I had no clue.

I thought I'd marry that big bald-headed football player I was going out with. Turns out, he married one of my best friends. I thought I'd always be close to the three girls I had hung out with that year. Turns out, I haven't spoken to any of them in about 13 years now. I thought I'd always have a tiny waist and would always be able to grow my nails long. Turns out, I lost my waist two kids ago and you know how they depict hands coming up out of a grave on the cover of horror film DVD's? Yeah, those are my nails.

I wonder if the girl in the third row knows she will get a divorce at age 35 and dye her hair crayon red. I wonder if the girl third from the end on the left knows she will finally declare the alternative sexual orientation everyone else already knew about in her late 20's and live to tell about it. Does the guy on the front row know he's going to do five years in prison for grand larceny and beating the snot out of his girlfriend? What about the football jock? Does he know he'll become a youth pastor? The shy guy with the blonde curly hair peeking out from under his cap? He's going to show up at the 10 year reunion and no one is going to recognize him because he kind of grew up over the course of a decade. The girl jock that everyone loves? She'll be beaten unrecognizable by her worthless first husband, only to meet the love of her life some 10 years later.

And that nerdy teacher's pet wearing the mini mini-dress? Does she know she's going to drop out of college, move away from home only to come back a month later, get engaged, get un-engaged, meet a man who was a teacher's aide in her Kindergarten class, fall in love with him, work in a hospital, get pregnant, tell her unborn child good-bye before she says hello, open a home daycare three different times, nearly get a divorce, have three amazing children, start a blog and live happily ever after?

She does now.

Curly Q

2009-05-25T11:17:00.000-05:00

Saturday night Kady asked if I would rag roll her hair for church the next day. I hadn't done it in awhile, so I agreed. I, of course, sent a Tweet and also updated my Facebook status stating that I was in the process of rag rolling. The responses were a mixture of "HUH?" to "How do you do that?" and "Ohhhh, I remember having that done to my hair when I was a kid!" so I just decided to take some pictures and show the process.

This is Kady's pitifully straight hair. The child had the prettiest curls when she was a baby, up until she was 4 and that was when her stupid mother took her to the salon one day to trim it up and, in theory, take some weight off and thus give her curls some bounce. Didn't work. Obviously.

I just took an old flannel receiving blanket and cut it into strips anywhere from 1 to 2 inches wide (because I am the Queen of Inconsistency). I let her hair air dry just a little and then put a dab of gel on it. I divided it into sections and then just rolled it up around the strips of fabric. Tie at the scalp and voila! Kady's hair is so resistant to curling; we've tried hot rollers, sponge rollers, curling irons and magic spells straight from Dumbledore himself and her hair will not take a curl. And sponge rollers are so awful to sleep on she was cranky the day after so even if she had curls she was crabby and gripey and it just wasn't worth it. But rag rolls? They are so easy for her to sleep in that she's adorable the next day AND we can stand to be around her! Bonus!

Here's what the curls looked like as I took them out the next morning. Like little Nelly Olson ringlets, huh?

She wanted to leave them like this all day. Uh.......no.

I had her flip her head upside down and gently finger-combed her hair to separate the ringlets and instantly she's Little Orphan Annie! For some reason, this time up at the top of her head, she was flat. Not sure what I did wrong....

So to hide the flatness I just pulled her hair up on top into a pouf and stuck a bow clip in there.

As the day wore on, the curls relaxed and looked even more adorable and every time she took a step they bounced! They would've stayed in through today, but she and her brother and cousins had a water fight last night and .... yeah. Flat once more.

Just Another Oklahoma Springtime

2009-05-15T15:30:00.003-05:00

Wednesday Paul and I had watched TWC all day long and we knew we were possibly in for some severe weather that night. During the day we double-checked the supplies in the 'fraidy hole - important things like bottled water, blankets, towels and a chair for me because the week before when the kids and I ended up underground before the morning bus even ran I had to stand and I wasn't really happy about that.

Before I go any further just let me say that my husband, while he most of the time has the best of intentions, sometimes forgets that his wife is fat. He proudly came in the house while I was digging for flashlight batteries and held at arm's length what looked like two bundles of pipe and canvas. "Look! Chairs!" he said. I looked at him and said, "I don't think so, dude." He had found his hunting stool doohickeys in the barn and thought they would be GREAT for the cellar since they take up very little space, but what he forgot was that my rear-end does NOT take up very little space - in fact, it takes up a very LOT of space. Shortly after that I took my very large, space-taking-up lawnchair down into the cellar so my large, space-taking-up hiney would be comfy.

Okay, so on with the events of the night.... We were all happily watching LOST, keeping an eye on the radar and TWCi Twitter updates, but otherwise enjoying the confusion that is LOST. We had had the kids pack their 'fraidy hole bags early on because there is nothing worse than the twister bearing down on you and your youngest is bawling because she can't find her woobie and her Nintendo DS. Trust me on this. The NOAA radio politely informed us we were under a tornado watch. Then a thunderstorm warning. We could see on the radar in the corner of the TV screen that the tornado warnings were moving our way, but the storms were moving so slow we really didn't react too much. Then the NOAA radio started going off for the counties close to us. It was then we had the kids put on their shoes and go to the restroom. I really thought we'd finish LOST, the storms would fizzle and Tater and the tots would go home and life would go on - because that's the way it always goes.

Not that night. 15 minutes from the butt-puckering ending of LOST my phone then Tater's phone rang with our weather alert ringtones. We simultaneously opened our phones and simultaneously said "Oh, crap." Then the NOAA radio went off. We hollered at the kids to grab their bags and realized Paul was nowhere to be found. Because he is a redneck and he was out in the yard. Which, truthfully, is where Tater and I would've been had LOST not been on. I hollered for Paul and the fun began. I have to give all five kids serious props because no one panicked, no one freaked, no one questioned, they just grabbed their bags and followed Paul out the front door. It wasn't raining then and really, the wind wasn't even blowing all that much. We could see lightning and hear thunder, but even that wasn't all that close. It was weird running to the cellar on such a nice night!

See how happy everyone was?

(See how shiny my sister was?)

(She wasn't happy about this picture, by the way, but hey, it's my blog. If she would update her blog she'd have opportunity to put unflattering pictures of me there... HINT HINT.)

Sam was in the corner, TotTwo was hiding behind my chair and TotOne was apparently on the verge of being Vulcan. Just a few more centimeters and her fingers would've formed the appropriate "Live Long and Prosper" greeting.

Abby didn't have her hair properly straightened, nor did she have any makeup on and therefore refused any pictures be taken of her.

Ptthhht. Divas.

After we got the kids settled in I started having hot flashes. Not because of menopause, no, because of the oppressive humidity and the fact we had eight bodies crammed into a 6x8 concrete box in the ground. Since it had yet to begin raining we decided to leave the door open and keep an eye on things because again, we're rednecks. The NOAA radio went off again, updating the tornado warning, the phones started chirping....and we heard roaring. It was the eeriest thing I've ever heard in my life. There was relatively little wind at our place but either we heard a tornado roaring in the distance or it was just some kick-butt straight-line winds. Eeriest. Thing. Ever.

We kept the door open until the rain started and whew it got hot in a hurry once we were closed in. Oh, but don't worry that I overheated. Since I was the pampered one with the big fancy chair, I got to sit right under the dripping door.

It really didn't take us all that long to get good and bored.

Paul was texting me. Me. As in his wife who was sitting next to him under the dripping door.

Tater's tots have WAY more stamina than my kids. Kady and Sam eventually crashed. TotTwo just entertained us with his flatulence.

Really, there are few things cuter than a sleeping Kadybug.

And here's my big, strong, protective husband risking life and limb to check the conditions outside. I wouldn't have cared if it had sucked us all right out at that point I was so hot. I'm telling you, menopause is going to suck. Hard.

Rumor has it we're under the gun for some strong to severe storms again tonight, but I'm not too worried. Wednesday, TWC's Dr. Greg Forbes gave us a 6 out of 10 on his Tor:Con tornado probability scale, but today we only got a 2.

However, I didn't take my lawnchair out of the cellar. Ya know....just in case.

PhotoBlogWednesday!

2009-05-13T17:29:00.002-05:00

Since it's been a long time since I've posted pictures I thought today would be as good a day as any. I wrote a post yesterday and Blogger ate it so yeah, you're gettin' pictures.

Here's my boy sittin' on the front porch looking at stuff through the binoculars. It wasn't long after this picture he cupped his hands over his mouth and started attempting bird calls which made me shake with supressed laughter. No way would I have laughed out loud at him but dang it was hilarious. I bet all the birds stopped what they were doing to ask, "What the--? Who's the new kid?"

Notice he's growing his hair out. Long gone are the days of the military cut he's sported since 1st grade. He wants to look like Zac Efron. His redneck father is freaking the heck out at the amount of hair on his boy's noggin.

No, the child didn't have dysentery ......

..... this is just what happens when your dress-wearin' little diva takes off through the muddy yard on her princess bike.

Thank God for Spray 'n Wash.

Our dog Gravy has seemingly adopted our kitten Flopsy. I don't know if he's just lonely because his canine companion, Biscuit, is a complete and total idiot or if he thinks that because she is black and white they must be related or what.

Regardless, it's cute as all get out.

Especially when they get caught and try to look like they weren't snuggling.

Nonner is going to be a geek when he grows up, thanks to his Kiki. He LOVES Paul's and my laptops but he also thinks banging on them is how to make them work (much like Paul...) so today I dragged out Kady's Barbie laptop.

Paul was watching him bang away on it, shook his head and said, "Ain't right that boy's playin' with a pink laptop..."

I think of it as him getting in touch with his geeky feminine side.

PRAISE THE LORD Abby finally let her Grammy pluck her eyebrows. I was worried they were going to take over her face and form some mutant race of hairy-faced tweens. God love her, she got her hairiness from her mother. I am so, so, so very sorry for that. I had to take hormones to sustain my pregnancy with her and she was born looking not unlike a wookiee and for years I blamed her hairiness on that, but now I think it's just sucky heredity. Again, I apologize.

I'm just glad she's finally aware enough of her appearance to look neat and tidy instead of crunchy and unkempt. I sincerely hope that the next step after eyebrow plucking is CLEANING HER ROOM.

I'd forgotten about this one on my phone.

Yeah, just one more reason his father is freaking the heck out over the amount of hair on his middle child - the faux hawk, aka Every Redneck Father's Nightmare.

Career Options

2009-05-06T22:56:00.000-05:00

Now, don't get me wrong - I love what I do. I love being a stay-at-home mom and right now babysitting my cousin's baby is the only job I want, but eventually the little guy has to go to school. I'm looking down the road like four years when I'll have a 16 year old, a 14 year old and God help us all, when Kady will be a tween.

When I grow up I want to be a doula.

I want to be the relative stranger in a room full of energy, emotion and excitement. I want to be the soothing voice in the midst of the cacophony. I want to the one in the room doing a Bill Cosby impersonation - "Push 'em out, push 'em out, wayyyyy out!" and get paid to do it. Yeah, I've decided I want to be a professional birthing coach.

I'll show up to my job in the wee hours of the morning with a birthing ball and Yanni CD, wearing my sweats, a sloppy ponytail and no makeup, but there nonetheless to make the birthing experience of my client the most memorable I can. I'll be in baby books all over - which is good since I haven't gotten around to putting any pictures in my own kids' baby books. I will be there to witness the miracle of life but my stretch marks will be a non-issue.

And if that doesn't work out I want to be a referee for WWE.

Seriously, those guys have THE best job. They stand in a ring with a bunch of hot, oiled up muscle-bound men, waving their arms and saying words no one can hear. Heck, for all we know they're reciting the Preamble to the Constitution or maybe even a poem they learned in Freshman English. No one pays a lick of attention to what they say but who cares? I'm getting really good at speaking and no one listening. Ask my kids. Wait. Don't bothering asking them - they won't listen.

Sure, professional wrestling refs occasionally take a folding chair to the face and sometimes get thrown out of the ring entirely but they do it with flair and it'll a small price to pay to get to holler meaningless words at Batista and feel like I'm doing my job and doing it well.

And the best part? You can't go wrong with vertical stripes.

Repetoire

2009-04-30T15:53:00.000-05:00

Sometimes the baby I watch, just out of the blue starts running through every skill he has learned so far in his little 10 month life. He'll say "uh-oh" then "thank you" (which comes out "day----doooooo") then he claps for himself, makes his "mean face", barks, laughs like a maniac, blows a spit bubble or seven, says thank you again, does the sign for milk, maybe crawls a few paces, claps for himself, barks and then makes sure you've seen it all before he starts all over again.

Do you think sometimes we do that? As adults do we sometimes feel like we aren't getting enough attention and need to show everyone what we're capable of doing for their enjoyment?

I know sometimes I get stuck in my rut and feel boring so I begin my routine of showing the world what I can do - I plan a baby shower for a friend I haven't seen since high school but ran into one day in Walmart, noticed her gigantic belly, traded parenting stories then offered to throw her a shower. I call the bow lady and decide to have a bow party in my nasty, filthy, cluttery house - a party in which all of my female friends will bring their female offspring in order to buy scads of hair bows and other hair beautification acoutrements, a party in which I also will feel compelled to cook gratuitous amounts of food to show off my mad cooking skillz. It is also during this time I volunteer for something at the church or, because I am on the food committee, five community members/church members pass away and we have to feed the grieving families. Usually this time also coincides with field trips, the Beach Day, and school awards ceremonies and a week that my husband wants to partake of uhm...ya know....like, every dang night. It wouldn't be unheard of for someone in the family to come down with the flu, contract ebola or for me to discover they have head lice during this time as well.

Somewhere in there I realize I need to find time to sit down and write a blog post about it. You know, just to make sure you are all aware that I am capable of SO MUCH MORE than I've been showing the innernetz as of late.

Or I could just be truthful and say "You know what? I've been so busy watching the episodes of Krod Mandoon that are building up on the DVR, catching up on laundry, trying to find that .32 mistake in my checkbook register, not cooking healthy, homemade meals for my family and spending inordinate amounts of time tickling a cute, pudgy baby tummy and trying to convince him that cats indeed do not say RUFF that I have been too busy to tell you about it."

My repetoire is pretty impressive if you ask me.

Forget Princess Aspirations - I'm Cranky, the 8th Dwarf

2009-04-22T22:28:00.001-05:00

We have been planning for a few weeks on going to visit some friends in Texas. The girls and I were going to hang out with Lori and her girls and I was gonna try to visit my favorite Tracy while Lori's boy and my boys went on a fishing trip. But tonight I'm sitting in my big chair with a big ol' heapin' helpin' of cranky in my lap.

Abby has been battling some nasty allergy-ness for a few weeks which settled into her sinuses and now her ears. On top of all that she has gotten a vicious nasty stomach bug and is about a step and a half away from dehydration.

Kady had an asthma attack bright and early Monday morning before school and continues to bark and wheeze still. She is also having a major eczema flare-up and is miserable with the itching and burning and such.

Sam did come from school Monday not long after school started because he puked twice but that right there was nothing more than stupidity. Apparently when one scarfs down a bunch of donuts and chases it with a gigantic Gatorade and then, because the morning exercises are "boring", decides to just spin around in a circle for 15 minutes one pukes. Lesson learned. Maybe. He is male, after all. We may repeat this one.

Anyway.

Lori said today that evidently the thought of going to Texas riled us Okies up somethin' fierce. I told her we should probably start looking into the theory that when Okie babies are born they are innoculated with an anti-Texas serum thus making them intolerant to All Things Texan. Of course, this can be remedied by being exposed to small doses of Texas over a period of time so Lori is planning on sending some bluebonnets and BBQ our way in preparation of a make-up trip.

In the meantime, we're just hangin' out. Just snifflin' and coughin' and occasionally pukin'.

My First On-Air Interview

2009-04-15T10:53:00.000-05:00

Yesterday afternoon I got a direct Tweet from Tyson at The WynnBlog asking if I was available to be on their WynnCast that evening.

Immediately my teeth started itching.

That's what happens when I get nervous - my teeth itch. I first discovered the itchy teeth syndrome when I began doing Competitive Speech my Junior year. Right before a round my teeth would itch so badly I would spend all my time preceding a round clenching them. I'm sure I looked like one of the angriest competitors in the place but nah, I was just trying to keep myself from going mad with the itchy incisors.

I had Bible study last night (We're doing a Beth Moore study on the book of Daniel - PHENOMENAL, btw!) but told Tyson I was available after 7:30 then spent the rest of the evening immersed in the story of Daniel's safe-keeping in the lion's den while clenching my itchy teeth. I rushed the kids to bed, straightened up the living room, browsed around on Facebook and around 9:30 my phone rang and the fun began!

Clear your schedule for about an hour or just listen while you work. In the cast we cover such topics as tea parties (they're not just for little girls - who knew?), VBS (remember when they served Kool-ade and Hydrox cookies every day?), tornadoes, anonymity (or lack thereof) on the Web, and of course, spoonbilling.

I text Tater as soon as the interview was done and told her that I was in desperate need of a laugh transplant because I was worried my laugh came across all cackly on the air. She immediately text back asking if I had not learned ANYTHING from watching SpongeBob. See, there was an episode involving laugh boxes and such....Aaaaaaanyway, I then retracted my wish for a new laugh and just decided to wait and see how I sounded. I was remarkably only moderately cackly so yay!

Click the link below, have a listen then make sure you comment - comment about the content or the cackle, your choice.

WynnCast #47 - in which I am NOT cackly

Many thanks to the Wynns for having me on the show. Any time, guys! And yes, you owe me dinner. :-)

Laughing Through My Dusty Tears

2009-04-14T14:25:00.001-05:00

It's been seven days since I last posted. I feel like I should precede that last sentence with "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned" and I'm not even Catholic.

I had to dust off my laptop when I turned it on. That might be sad. No, it is sad. Of course, we watched The Dark Knight (Thank you Easter Bunny!) Sunday afternoon and I noticed this morning that the case sitting on top of the DVD player is covered in dust. Have I mentioned we're getting new windows and oh, how glad I am to be getting them? Living on a dirt road with 32 year old windows just pretty much sentences you to a life of dustiness. July cannot get here quick enough - of course, I have a feeling our Amish friend is dreading coming back onto the property.

I am prone to self-diagnosing and I have recently come to the conclusion that I suffered from SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder - this winter. I lost interest in pretty much everything other than sleeping and eating and my hiney is loud and proud out there proving it. This is something new for me because winter is always my favorite time of year and I loathe summer. I finally feel like I'm human again and am slowly getting back into the swing of things. It's time to drag out my FlyLady folder again and get back into routines and shoes and dusting and living. It's time to start posting to this blog more often than twice a month and time to enjoy it again. Awhile back someone asked me why I had stopped posting and my reply was, "Because my life isn't funny anymore. My kids aren't even funny." Really, though, I don't think life or my kids stopped being funny, I think I just got too bogged down in my own yuckiness that I stopped seeing it. I'm glad I'm laughing again.

Of course, my family isn't as glad. They've just enjoyed the heck out of the fact that for the last four or five months we have been happy as pigs in slop here in our dirty house and that I haven't cared how messy it's gotten. I haven't been following them around harping about shoes in the living room, hairspray buildup on the bathroom counter, dishes in the sink or the fact that I had to buy Abby new socks because all of her disappeared. AGAIN. Nah, I've just let my little piglets wallow and I've been there wallowing, too.

I knew I had gotten depressed and down this winter and that I'm coming out of it when I walked into the bedroom the other night and busted into tears at how messy it is. I love our bedroom because it's HUGE and I have a pretty comforter and my bed is big and pretty and there are pictures on my dresser .... but now it's just a cluttered room. And my comforter? Haven't seen it. If you happen upon it send it my way, willya? For all I know it could be out running with scissors. I think I saw it in a corner a few months back but I cant' be sure and didn't have a stick handy with which to poke it. I don't just go pulling things out of a corner, ya know. Dangerous behavior, that. The pictures of my family which cover my dresser and used to look like the old opening scene of All My Children now looks like a haunted house and I'm pretty sure my Granny Glenn wouldn't be happy about the fact that she and Grandpa are covered in about 1/4" of dust right now.

Saturday Paul was at work, the sun was shining, the kids and I had no plans and it was like all of a sudden I woke up. We cleaned. We dusted. We vacuumed. We threw away. We found socks. Abby now has enough socks to cover the piggie-toes of a small third world country. (And if you're curious as to where I found socks? Her desk drawer, floor vent, under the bookcase, back corner of her closet, a small tote sharing space with a few KidzBop CDs, the box her sleeping bag came in at Christmas, stuffed behind her boxed set of The Chronicles of Narnia....want me to go on?)

It's not done yet. There's still clutter and dust and excess excess but we're getting there. We managed to get rid of a badminton rack that had long been un-badmintonable and the packaging from every crappy Dollar Tree toy he's ever purchased - yay Sam! We tossed out a Disney Princess calendar from 2006 AND four tubes of lipstick that looked like they had been eaten - yay Kady! We bagged up 40 gazillion candy wrappers and tossed out one petrified piece of popcorn chicken that had taken up residence in a dresser drawer - yay Abby! We pulled all of the fishing/hunting lodge-themed paraphenalia that has long since stopped bringing joy and had only been providing a place for the dust in the house to have rowdy parties and big dusty keggers down off of the mantle and now there are only three pictures of our gorgeous children - yay Paul and me! We have so much more to do but we're getting there.

It won't be long and I'll feel like opening the front door when the Schwan's Man drives up and I'll be posting here so often you won't be able to keep up with the hilarity.

I'm laughing again.

And we want this, why?

2009-04-06T11:47:00.001-05:00

This morning, as I do virtually every weekday morning, I was flipping back and forth between CMT and VH1 while I wait for the kids to finish getting ready for school. I don't like country music, but sometimes you'll catch a random good video on CMT and sometimes VH1 plays Coldplay and my brain doesn't process Coldplay well and I'm all like "wha?" so thus the flipping back and forth.

So in between videos and random flipping back and forth a commercial for Enzyte comes on. Now, ol' Smilin' Bob has been around for quite awhile now and while they annoy me to no end, they are definitely memorable. The commercial that was playing was the Christmas one where ol' Bob is Santa. It just so happened that Sam was in the room with me when it came on. The whistling always gets the kids' attention.

He watched for a few seconds then looked at me and said, "Uh....I just don't get it." I said not a word because I am learning that keeping my mouth shut is sometimes much better, plus if I pretend the kids didn't say anything I don't have to answer them. Again he said, but more adamantly this time, "Mom. I don't get those commercials." I don't get Coldplay either but I usually just flip the channel and go about my life. Not so much for a 10 year old boy. He was waiting for an answer and I could see he was not letting me off the hook easily. I was praying the bus would come early or that the island would decide at that moment to flash us forward or backward or diagonally, whatever. Oh, but no. I live in Oklahoma, not a freaky mysterious island where "Others" and "Hostiles" and smoke monsters and large men who say "Dude" a lot exist.

I sighed and asked, "What don't you get about it, son?"

He said, "Well, for one thing..."

Oh boy.

"For one thing, why do all those women want to sit on his lap?"

My answer: "Because he's Santa. Next question."

"Okay, so why are none of the guys lining up to sit on his lap?"

My answer: "They're taking pictures for their wives' scrapbooks. Duh."

"Alright. So....what does this have to do with Enzyte? Is it a pill? And a pill for what?"

Agh! So many questions?

I took a deep breath. "It's a memorable commercial for their product which, yes, is a pill. And the pill is supposedly to make a man's winky bigger."

His eyes got huge and I mean HUGE. After a quick look down at his lap he looked at me and said, "WHY ON EARTH would a dude want a BIG one of those?"

My total cop-out answer: "Ask Santa. Oh look! It's time to catch the bus!"

When once again my life imitates a bad sitcom

2009-04-03T23:30:00.002-05:00

Our house was built in 1976. The windows in our house are the original windows - crappy, aluminum windows. The pegs that you push to open the window are dry-rotted and broken on the majority of them and that means if you want a breeze you have to prop the window open with wooden spoon or one of those free rulers you get at the county fair each summer. Several of them are rattly which is unsettling when the ol' wind comes sweeping down the plains.

A few years ago a guy selling siding and windows came to our house to give us his pitch and try his darndest to sell us new windows throughout our house. After calculating the number of windows (18) and telling us the merits of his fancy schmancy windows he wrote an absurdly obscene number on a sheet of paper and slid it across the table at us. After we picked our eyeballs up and put them back in their sockets we told him to get out of our house. He wanted nearly $20,000 for 18 windows. I have this sneaking suspicion that company didn't sell a lot of windows and that maybe the ones they did sell were to little old ladies who are now eating dog food because they spent all their money on windows.

After that we didn't entertain the thought of new windows anymore. Even though we knew that his bid of $20,000 was WAY more than windows actually cost, we were still gunshy. We decided to spend our money on important things like gambling and a trip to Disney World. But with the economy taking a dive and the environment going all wonky and our electric bill climbing higher it's like an algebraic equation for dog food casserole.

Paul's brother and nephew recently had new roofs put on their houses and they used an Amish company out of Kansas. They were very impressed with the work and Paul's nephew also had them install windows. Again, the work was impressive and the price was lower than what his brother had paid for windows at Lowe's a few months prior. Paul called the number on the business card he was given and even though it said "Leave a message" he ended up talking to a real live person - a real live AMISH person.

In our community there are quite a few Mennonite families and a church/school just a few miles up the road. They are like Amish Lite - they drive cars, have phones, electricity, etc. but they still wear the cute little Amish clothes and seem to be pretty religiously strict. I've always been under the impression that the Amish do not have electricity or phones, nor do they drive cars. I mean, you see the pictures of their little buggies sharing the highway with cars, right? My aunt Janet explained to me that they can have phones as long as they are not taken into the home. And this particular Amish fella has a driver that drives him and his crew to jobs and then sits in the truck all day while they work. (Smart guy, that driver) So he and Paul worked out a time for him to come over and measure for windows.

I was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that day. I briefly thought about changing into a skirt but then remembered I don't own one. So I just decided that I would stay here in the house and stay out of the way because I thought the menfolk would stay outside. See, my darling husband had been asked earlier that day to take down the blinds in the bedroom and hose them down because folks, they are DUSTY. And by dusty I mean "so dirty they should be in a haunted house." But no, he said, because the guy would measure from the outside. Now, my intelligent mind told me that this was not true, but my man would not be swayed. I think he's in denial that his wife is a horrible housekeeper and he just hoped he would measure outside.

Well, right after Cousin Courtney and Aunt Janet got here to pick up Nonner, Mr. Amish Man and his non-Amish driver showed up. This is where I got my education about Amish phone ettiquette and basic rules for living. It was also at this time that Aunt Janet told me that her sister had worn shorts to an Amish man's place of business last summer and was asked that next time she visit she be appropriately dressed. So imagine how badly I freaked out when Paul stuck his head inside the front door and said, "Hey, come out here a minute." I looked down at my jeans in panic, considered quickly wiping off some of my makeup, but then decided I didn't have time. I stepped out onto the porch, smiled at our Amish guest and then gave my opinion on what color windows we were going to get.

It was at that precise moment my black-fingernail-clad oldest daughter came busting out the front door wearing a shirt postiviely COVERED in skulls, mouth full of toothpaste, declaring loudly, "DUDE. I JUST BROKE MY TOOTHBRUSH." Then she realized there was a strange bearded man in a straw hat standing on our porch holding a window in one hand and was trying to keep Gravy from humping his leg with the other. She nodded his general direction, sucked the toothpaste in her mouth and said, "'Sup." Then went back in the house. I looked at Mr. Amish Man and shrugged.

But then, because God truly does have a sense of humor, that was the exact moment that Kady came busting out the front door, screaming her head off, Sam and TotTwo close on her heels, waving Nerf guns over their heads shouting, "KILL THE GIRL! KILL THE GIRL!" Paul just grinned and shook his head. Gravy continued trying to get to know our guest better and I again just shrugged.

I went back in the house where Cousin Courtney and Aunt Janet were waiting expectantly, maybe wondering if Mr. Amish Man had asked me to change my attire before he would sell me one single solitary window, but no such luck. They went on their merry way and I plopped down in my chair in front of my laptop and grabbed up my cell phone to send a Tweet. Kady came into the living room and asked why there was a leprechaun in our front yard. I just patted her arm and said, "Sweetie, we live at the end of the rainbow. Now go play with your brother and cousin some more." A few minutes later Paul and Mr. Amish Man came in to begin measuring. Didja catch that? They came IN to begin measuring. I was wishing I had a nifty pause button on my life like we have on our DVR - I just needed long enough to hose down those haunted house blinds, do a few loads of laundry, mop the kitchen floor, sew myself a skirt and maybe find a different shirt for Abby.

I moved to the couch so they could get to the window. As Mr. Amish Man was measuring he asked the question, "So, Paul, where do you work?" I stopped mid-Tweet to watch the conversation. Paul, not thinking to lie through his teeth, said, "I'm a GSR Supervisor at a casino. I work on slot machines."

The poor guy's beard actually twitched as he briefly paused his measuring to process Paul's reply. I bit my lip to keep from busting out laughing and decided that Twitter would have to wait a few minutes because I needed my phone free to throw at my husband if he said anything else that might cause our window man to have a massive coronary in our living room.

Funny. He didn't ask me my profession. I can only assume he thinks I'm a street walker or voodoo priestess. I'm sure God got a big ol' earful from that little suspendered man that night. In fact, I'm pretty sure their entire community had prayer for us heathens.

But he gave us a super low bid on the windows and I have until July to buy a skirt.

Preparing to purr

2009-03-30T17:11:00.000-05:00

I have worn my hair straight all winter because the lower atmospheric humidity paired with the fact we heat with wood means our house is drier than a popcorn fart AND also means I can have good, frizz-free hair from about November through February. I have gotten compliments all winter, too, because I was rocking my curling brush and this product stuff my BFF Tiff sent for Ab but I kind of stole. I mostly curled it into big loose curls and pomaded it into submission and just kicked all kinds of good hair butt.

But alas, the time of dry air has come to an end once more and now it is time to bring forth the curls because Oklahoma's humidity runs on average around 4000% from now until October and if you have naturally curly hair you know that curls around humidity is like a bunch of cougars (and not the wild animal) at a Tom Jones concert. There is lots of panty-throwing. And swooning. And other things I can't mention in polite company.

For the most part my hair is cooperating - except for my bangs. I'm in the process of growing them out and they're long enough to curl properly but see, my bangs, they are impressionable and all of this straightness the past few months has made them desire to be straight for, like, ever. They are like the unruly cousins the rest of my hair doesn't want to invite to Thanksgiving dinner because my hair just knows my bangs will do something embarrassing. Like get drunk on the cooking sherry and talk loudly about Uncle Harvey's "special friend" or something like that.

I've been pinning them back every day like all the teenagers are doing, but in case you don't know - I'm 36. I am staring down the barrel of 40 and folks, it ain't pretty. Ab says my hair is cute and she's 12 and she would know - BUT I say it again, I am 36. I'm bordering on cougar myself. The time for cute is over. Plus, I don't leave the house much so pinning them back is okay because Nonner loves me as long as I keep him stocked with apple juice and Cheerios. Cougar or cute, I'm good with him.

The other night in a desperate attempt to show my bangs who's boss, I trimmed them, which is basically like kneecapping them and threatening them with a cement overcoat, if you knowhaddamean. It helped some and this morning I had one of the best hair days I've had since humidity came back to town and started drunk calling at 3am again. My curls were curls; they were well-arranged, submissive, not frizzy and well, if I'm going to be a cougar soon I might as well say it - RAWR. I was hawt. Paul even said so. (Of course, I think he was just trying to make the most of the fact we were in the house sans kids because he's a man that way)

I had to take Sam to Tulsa today for his orthodontic x-rays and impressions, so I finished getting ready, sprayed my hair with my "flexible hold" hairspray (because you don't want the curls to form into a solid shell or helmet) and got ready to wow the city of Tulsa. Then I opened my front door, stepped outside and was immediately transformed into Phyllis Diller.

If you're reading this blog and you don't know who Phyllis Diller is, one, Google her and quick.

And two, does your momma know you're reading a soon-to-be-cougar's blog?

Things have changed

2009-03-25T19:56:00.000-05:00

Yesterday morning a man in our neighborhood was murdered. He was a grandfather, a husband, a father, a businessman and now he's gone. He was murdered in a home break-in. They woke his family and him up at 4am, tied them, gagged them, beat his wife and shot him. Things like that don't happen in our area. Things like that should not happen in our neighborhood.

We have lived in our house 8 years and never once have I felt scared in this house. We live out in the boondocks and yet I have never had a moment's unease in our home or on our property.

Until now.

We don't have many neighbors but, aside from the dog-hitting neighbor, we get along with the few we have. I have exchanged recipes with the elderly lady who lives to the west of us. She's sent us dinner and I've sent them dinner when the other is under the weather. Her husband helped me dispose of a dead kitten once before the kids got home and Paul has gone up to help him with some farm machinery. We wave to cars we meet on the dirt road - whether we know them or not. Paul has gone down to the creek bottom at 11 at night a time or two when we've heard the sounds of a truck stuck in the mud. Last week when the neighbor girl to the east broke up with her boyfriend Abby and I made her cookies because we are firm believers that cookies make everything better.

But I'm afraid cookies won't fix this.

For the first time in their lives, my kids were scared when they went to bed last night. That hurt my heart so badly. I tucked them in, assured them once again that their daddy and I were doing every we knew to do to keep them safe. I kissed foreheads, told them I loved them then walked into the living room and busted into tears. Paul didn't sleep in the bed with me last night - he slept on the couch with a loaded gun close by. The Glock he bought me a few years ago that I have never fired nor felt the need to and has been tucked away separate from the clip for years now, was pulled out of hiding, loaded and put where I can get to it if I need to.

Now, you might say we're overreacting but when something so heinous, so shocking, so tragic happens in a small rural community just outside of a small town....I think maybe everyone overracts in their own way. Ours just happens to be by arming ourselves to the hilt. While I have my pistol, Paul also showed me how to shoot his semi-automatic assault rifle and how to shoot from the hip with the shotgun and that putting it to my shoulder and aiming isn't necessary if I'm trying to knock someone out the front door away from our kids. One of my Facebook friends left a status message last night that her husband had given her her first handgun lesson. It's springtime - a time we usually have the doors and windows open. Not right now. Maybe not ever again.

My heart is sad, my soul is weary, my body is exhausted. I woke up to every sound last night. I checked on the kids several times. I walked the floor, looking out the windows, checking the door locks.

No, I'm afraid this is too big for cookies.

GNO, Vacation and Alone Time - The Trifecta

2009-03-19T14:20:00.000-05:00

Last Friday my little sister, my little Godsister and I went out for a much-needed Girls' Night Out. We ate at a Thai restaurant (which was a little scary for me because I am not an adventurous eater), listened to some great jazz (even though I'm not a fan of jazz, it was good) and laughed till our eyeliner was just a memory.

Saturday I took Kady to a birthday party at the Maccaroo Gym in Joplin, MO, where she bounced and bounced and bounced herself nearly into a 7 year old frenzy. That place is CRACK, I'm tellin' ya. It is truly an amazing place to take your kids and if you're in the area you should check it out. They are very safety and security-conscious and it was clean and well, it was just CRACK.

This week is Spring Break for the kids, so Monday morning Cousin Courtney, Nonner, the kids and I headed for Oklahoma City (or "The City" as we hicks call it) to see my uncle, the state representative, in action. (Tater's tots were supposed to go as well, but TotOne got sick with strep throat overnight and they had to stay home, bless their hearts) We picked up with Aunt Janet at the Capitol, headed to Bricktown, ate at Spaghetti Warehouse, walked around awhile, checked out the canal and water taxi, sight-saw (sight-seen? sight-seed?) and then went to the Capitol just in time for the afternoon session to be adjourned. We knew it was going to be a short session, so we didn't hurry to fly back over after Bricktown. Uncle Larry took us onto the floor, we got some pictures, then I had my first ever "tweet-up" with Leslie Blair who was the most famous person we met all day. (See, Leslie, you're not just "neat" - you're still famous!) We visited with her awhile then Uncle Larry took us up to his office where he loaded up the kids with official Oklahoma State House of Representatives pencils, autographed copies of the photo-roster thing (autographed at Sam's request), gave Sam a OK state flag (I thought the boy was going to faint he was so excited) and then Uncle Larry took us on an amazing tour through the Capitol building. Sam declared that he will work there someday. Hopefully as Governor so his momma can live in the mansion with him. I don't think his wife will mind. I could be their nanny. Yeah.

And Monday's trip was my first experience driving with a talking GPS. I dare say I think I love that woman in my cousin's Garmin.

Tuesday and Wednesday were Paul's days off so we drove to Springfield Tuesday around noon, visited Dickerson Park Zoo, left the zoo and drove around for another hour because he didn't like my motel suggestions on Glenstone where pretty much the majority of motels are located, ended up going back to Glenstone to find a motel (I promise I didn't say "told you so" even though I really wanted to) and then we crashed. We were going to go to Bass Pro that night but by about 7:00pm the drive to OKC the previous day and all the zooing and driving that day caught up with the kids and I. Paul and the kids were asleep by 8:45.

We got up yesterday morning and went to Battlefield Mall where we went directly to Build A Bear Workshop to build new critters even though I had previously put a moratorium on building anything new. We left with a lamb named Mary, a turtle named Duuude and an emo-bunny named Coraline. Guess which kid made which animal. G'head, just guess. (If it gives you any clue, Abby left for our trip on Tuesday wearing a shirt with skulls all over it, skinny jeans, four metric tons of eyeliner beneath her gorgeous brown eyes and blue hair.)

After the mall we visited the High Temple of Redneck, aka Bass Pro Shop. We saw a 100+ year old snapping turtle, bought spring-loaded fly swatter guns, a camouflage visor, and my husband a new redneck t-shirt. Then we rounded out the entire trip with a visit to Incredible Pizza.

All I wanted to do today was sleep until I stopped, but noooooooooooooo Abby and TotOne had to be at a Red Cross Babysitter Training course at 9am. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad they're taking it, but dude, I need some sleep.

I dropped Kady and Sam off at Mom's this morning while I took the girls to the class. They said I could stay if I wanted, but none of the other moms stayed so I left, too. I called Mom to see where she was so I could pick up my other two kids since I wasn't obligated to watch the two tweens diaper dolls and learn infant CPR, but she said Pops had the boy and she had KD and that I should go home. The only thing she asked was that I didn't sleep the day away, but instead do something constructive.

Blogging is totally constructive. So is Facebook.