Love Thy Boobies

I know that this is the second time in a month I have a link for you to click on for some do-gooder reason ....and it's probably left you so shocked that you're copiously drooling from all orifices...but hey, I don't have to clean it up...so here goes.



As some of you may or may not know, a mastectomy is when you go in for surgery and have either one or both of your boobies loped off.



I'm not a big fan of boobie lopping myself....but just as long as the removed bits aren't used in catapults and cannons, I'm okay with it. I secretly think that some mastectomies are done simply because the Dr is either a) jealous or b) a man or c) a jealous man, and wants to feel your boobies in the privacy of his own home.....but I digress.



Sometimes boobie loping is necessary due to cancer or the permanent impression of your ex-husband's hand print, and then it's a real big help.



As I'm sure you can all imagine, it hurts like the dickens when this happens and the insurance companies are wanting to make it an out patient surgery (all the quicker the Dr can go home and feel your boobie) while you still have all sorts of medical paraphernalia sticking out of your chest.....don't let that happen.....make the fucking Dr wait at least TWO days before he can go home and fondle you without your knowing.



Click here and sign the petition. They only need your name and zip code.



(I have so much tact and class that it's unreal.)

Lessons Learned

I got a letter last week.

A real bonafide letter from an actual person. No shit. It actually happened. My mailbox wilted temporarily with the shock. (visualize that)

It was from a very old friend of mine....whom I'll call Worker Bee. Someone I had met in Jr High (middle school to most of you out there) and continued to keep in contact with even after I had moved away to start high school in another town. We stayed in touch for years, but eventually lost touch after the birth my daughter 9 years ago, while she was pregnant.

I was shocked to hear from her. I was so happy! Immediately, thoughts of our old chummy school days passes through my mind. Thoughts of the bad joke wars we used to have made my cheeks plump with grinning. I felt the old fellowship all over again - all before I read more than 3 words in her letter. I wanted to know everything immediately, and I mean EVERYTHING - RIGHT NOW.

She told me that my cousin had died.

My cousin and I had the same name (with the exception of our last names) and I had looked her up a couple of years ago. Nicole, Worker Bee and I were all friends in school along with the usual gaggle of people with intermingled with, but to me, those two were my world.

Nicole even lived down the street from me and we had spent many hot, hazy, summer days playing outside and doing a lot of things we shouldn't have. We talked. We danced We roller skated. We did make up. We dressed up. We strutted. We talked about boys. We went swimming in the river. We would walk for miles around our neighborhood just so we wouldn't have to be at home. She was ever confident and self assured. She is the one that taught me not to give a damn what anyone else thought of me. She was naturally beautiful. She was the girl I always wanted to be....and she was dead, and no one had called me.

Worker Bee had written to me on the day of her funeral and that's how I found out....but I didn't get her letter until a month after she had written it(I would like to thank the postman for his continued ineptitude - and my husband for forgetting to give my my mail when I came back from NM).

I was very upset...not because she had told me in her letter, but because no one had called me....and because I had put off calling her for months and months...simply because I find it hard to pick up the phone sometimes. It's true that no one had called me, but I hadn't called them either, and that didn't make me feel any better. I felt/feel exceedingly guilty - because I knew she had been sick, and I didn't call.

I went to Childhood Town and laid flowers on Nicole's grave this past weekend. I had the florist make up the flowers especially for her - pink if you please, sir - and with a little card to with them. I was struck with a delima. How was I supposed to say everything I wanted to say on that little card? Exactly what could I say on that sad scrap of paper? I struggled. The florist looked at me expectantly, waiting.

I drove down the old historic streets marked with beautiful Inns and B&B's and lovely old fashioned restaurants and eventually found the town cemetery and after getting directions to her plot from Worker Bee, I found her. She was right by a majestic old tree, in the shade, with flowers all over her grave. He birthday had been the day before and it was obvious that even in death, she was still deeply loved, especially by the 3 children she left behind...16,12,and 4.

I don't know what to say or do in times like this. I was blessedly alone. I stared at her marker and grinned. I had never realized that she had dropped her maiden name instead of her middle name when she gotten married. I had done the same thing....just one more thing to tie us together....and I gave her her flowers, and I whispered to her, and I cried and I wanted to scream and I cried and then....then....because I hate crying...and I especially hate crying in public, I pulled myself together....and I went to visit another old friend ....Worker Bee.

...and Worker Bee and I laughed and ate and I met her husband and her children and we laughed and talked and looked at old pictures and I felt the old kinship still there. The old confidences whispered still echoed and we exchanged new secrets and we told more bad jokes and I had to tear myself away to go home.

I left Childhood Town behind knowing that though one old friendship was gone, there was another there for me.

I left Childhood Town with only a few flowers and a miniature card to cover the earth that covers one of the only true friends I've ever had.

To the Lady who taught me to dance as a child, may you dance among the clouds.

If I Wasn't Fat Before, I Am Now

Dear Lord,

Thank you for giving man the wisdom to cook sopapillas. I know it's because you were hungry once too and wanted some good eatin'. I can see you now, chillin' out in the dessert grubbin' on sopapillas drizzled with honey, drinking some wine and cooling out with your apostles - the original OG.





I have lived a deprived life - never having tasted the wonderfulness of a sopapilla - or ever having heard of a sopapilla - until I went to visit my mother and step-dad in Albuquerque this past weekend.

I would also like to thank you Lord, for the Taco Salad I had at El Pinto's (which is the same place I had the sopapilla - but you already know that). It was wonderful - so wonderful in fact, that it made me want to sit up and slap my grandma - which I'm sure is going to be one of those sins you're going to hold against me later - but I couldn't help it. Taco Bell doesn't have a damn thing on it (did I just swear? My Bad. You're going to hold that against me too aren't you.) I will never again be able to go thru the drive thru at Taco Bell with the same sort of anticipation and over active salivary glands.

I have gone on line and gotten a sopapilla recipe....okay, I've gotten several recipes....and was just wondering which was the yummiest so that I may eat that one first.

Sante Fe Style Sopapillas

6 c. flour
1 1/2 tbsp oil
1 tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 warm water

Put all dry ingredients in a mixing bowl. Add oil and rub through hands until blended. Add water a little at a time until dough is firm (like regular bread dough). Let stand 10 minutes before rolling.

On a well floured board, roll egg-size pieces approximately 6 inches in diameter. Fry in hot oil until golden brown on both sides. Serve immediately.

** This recipe can also be used for tortillas. Fry in lightly coated cast iron skillet until it blisters - turn and cook other side.


Sopapilla Recipe

6 c. flour
3 tsp of baking powder
3 tsp salt
5 tsp of shortening
3 c warm water

Add and mix all ingredients and slowly add water while mixing. Dough should roll, be elastic and not stick to your hands. Let sit in a covered bowl for approximately 45 mins.

Work your dough on a lightly flowered counter. Cut out balls and cover. Roll your balls into the shape of a tortilla. Cut in to triangles, squares, or whatever shape you wish and fry at approximately 420 . If the sopapilla drops to the bottom of the pan and bubbles slightly, discard and wait for the oil to heat up.



Another Sopapilla Recipe

1 env. dry yeast

1/2 c. warm water

3 c. flour1 egg

1/2 tsp. salt

1 tbsp. oil

1 tsp. sugar

Shortening or oil

Cinnamon

Honey

Dissolve yeast in warm water. Mix with other ingredients. Knead several minutes and set aside in warm place until dough rises (about 2 hours). Roll flat. Cut in 1 1/2 inch squares. Allow to rise again (1 hour). Drop squares in deep grease or hot oil.

Cook to a golden brown, turning once. Drain momentarily and dip in sugar and cinnamon mixture. Serve hot with honey. Especially good after eating hot seasoned food.

I also found this recipe...could you tell me if it's any good?


Sopapilla Cheesecake

2 8 oz pkgs of cream cheese
2 pkgs of refrigerated crescent rolls
1 c. sugar
1 tsp vanilla or almond extract
1/2 c margarine or butter, melted
1/2 c cinnamon sugar

1. On 9x13 baking pan, unroll one package of refrigerated crescent rolls and line the bottom of the pan.

2. Flatten

3. Combine cream cheese, sugar and extract

4. Spread over crescent rolls

5. Unroll the other can of crescent rolls and place on top of cream cheese mixture.

6. Pour melted butter or margarine over top and spread with brush.

7. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar mixture.

8. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.



Also, while I have your attention Lord, I was wondering....could you somehow find it in your heart to make my husband like mexican food? Thanks

Flied Lice

ATM, this link is for you.

Chinese Food Song



Oh don't give me those hurt little puppy dog eyes. You can click on the link too.

Nikki's Pity Party - Come On In

I just spoke with my Mom a little while ago and I've gotten semi-depressed (it's just the PMS hormones I'm sure) so excuse me while I have my own little pity party and make myself feel all better.

I miss my mom. I just saw her, but I never really get to spend any time with her. We are never around each other long enough, in an environment that both of us are comfortable in, for us to be rested and at ease and we can just go do something, like go to the bookstore, or hand out our phone number to hot guys leaving the gym. You know, stuff that regular mother-daughter types do. She lives all the way out in NM and I'm here in VA and I miss the hell out of her.

I miss my brother - bitch that he is. He got back from Iraq in November and has now gotten out of the Army and started his civilian job. I've never met his son, my nephew (who is only a few months younger than my son) and I think that just sucks large amounts of ass. I don't have the money to go visit him, he doesn't have it to come visit me, and I fuckin' miss his sorry ass and I'm pissed at no one in particular that I haven't met his son yet. They're in TX.

These two are my only family (this of course doesn't take into account my own nuclear family) and we all live hundreds of miles away from each other, don't see each other with any regularity and I miss the times growing up when we would sit around the kitchen table and talk...even though that was rare for two teenagers ready to get the hell out of the house and their mother.

I want us to be able to see each other at least on the weekends...or once a month, or even once every couple of months - I'd be happy with that!...but I haven't seen my brother in a few years, and I just saw my mom for a couple of days, saw her for 1 day last year and before that she came to stay when Connor was sick, and I slept for most of her visit, and God only knows when I'll get to see her again.

I would really like to be able to go to mom and her husband's house, meet my brother and his wife and son there and all of us grown ups (or those in grown up bodies) to talk about something and nothing and let our kids play and cement familial bonds (though the children will have a harder time at it since they can't have beer. heh) and I would like to do this with some sort of regularity.

I miss my mom, I miss my brother, and I want to play with and get to know my nephew. Little Guy is growing up and I'm missing out.

I'm missing out.

Cause Mom Asked

Okay, my Boo-full Mommy called me and wanted to know how the whole servicing the treadmill thing worked out (other than the deliciously hot service man). I was just going to call her back and let her know, but I know that I was really surprised by the cost of servicing a treadmill and figured there might be one or two...okay fine...ONE of you out there that may be thinking of purchasing a treadmill either new or used and should be armed with as much info as possible...so I'm spilling my guts here in the hopes that it'll help you be better prepared than I was.

I called Sears to come and service my treadmill (remember, my mom gave me this treadmill, and it has been in climate controlled storage for the past couple of years). I choose Sears because when I was shopping for a treadmill just before the whole "Charles has to have a TV as wide as my ass to make him happy and it's going to drain all money out of all accounts" drama, I had gone looking there and they had the exact same treadmill that my mother gave me (incidentally - it's also the very one I wanted, so I was snoopy dancing when I saw they were the same).

They were honest with me on the phone when I made the appointment. Before they booked me, they told me up front that it was $96.00 just for them to come to my house. They made it very clear that NO repair work was included in that figure - it was just for the truck roll. After I picked myself off the floor, I told them to go ahead and schedule my appointment and made it clear that I didn't want any repairs done, I just wanted a service...IE - lube it up and/or tighten the belt, and maybe take a look at it and tell me what may be about go so I could budget etc. They said okay and advised me that the service guy was going to call me the night before the appointment to confirm it with me and that if I didn't answer the phone, my appointment would be cancelled. I acknowledged that I understood, gave them my cell phone number as an alternate number just in case.

Deliciously hot service guy showed up and was very professional and knowledgeable (and I'm not just saying that because I lust after his bod) and he was more importantly HONEST. He impressed me. He made it clear before he ever touched the treadmill that the service I wanted done would be in ADDITION to the 96.00 I was being charged...something that the people on the phone didn't bother to tell me...and the cost of that was 88.00. I almost shit myself....but I wasn't exactly in the position to tell him "Never mind, I'll make another appointment" because they only accepted appointments on Tuesday (a work day for me) and not during lunch or before or after work, and would only give me an appointment block and I had already spent 96 friggin bucks for him to show up and tell me that it was going to cost a MINIMUM of another 88 bucks - so I told him to go for it.

He took the time to go over the machine for me, exactly how everything worked, yada yada and praised the treadmill mom gave me as the best one on the market - wide base etc and said that it was in very good condition. Then said that the biggest draw back at this point was that the chest strap used to monitor the heart rate was extremely inaccurate (even more inaccurate that the things you grab on to to check your heart rate) and if I wanted to fix it, it was going to be at least another 150 to upgrade. I told him forget it, I can take my own pulse.

Then he told me the drive belt was really, really loose and needed to be tightened and it was going to be 50 bucks for that. After much debate, I told him to go ahead and do it, but for him to show me how since it was simple (only took him 5 minutes) and I could do it the next time should the need arise.

Then he told me that the roller was getting ready to go out. He said it wouldn't be anytime in the next couple of months, but if I use the thing with any regularity, I'd be calling him before the year was out to come fix it, and that was going to be 200 - and then the truck roll fee of 96 bucks on top of it, and then he would need to charge me for anything else it had screwed up when it went out. My jaw was hanging open the entire visit with this guy and it wasn't just because he was packing (and I don't mean he had a gun). The bill was getting out of control, and there was no way I could afford it and I told him so.

He was upfront and said something along the lines of "Most people can't and I'm the only one who services these things and I want you to know about cost and maintenance ahead of time because I'm the one who's gonna have to deal with you, and nobody likes a mad woman" I cracked up. He went on to say "Most people who buy used treadmills don't know about the service and maintenance costs, and treadmills aren't only expensive to buy, they're expensive to maintain"

Long story short, I bought a service plan for 2 years and he walked out of there with 435.90 - that included the service plan and all the work he had done (96 truck roll, 88 maint. & service, 50 to tighten drive belt, and the service plan for two years and tax)...and I don't have to pay another penny if I see him again in the next 2 years, and it includes an annual check-up and all costs of parts, labor, and what ever else.

Buy-bye savings.

The Treadmill Is A Go

The guy came out and serviced my treadmill.

SERVICE GUY WAS HOT HOT HOT.

Italian HOT. Jet black hair and BLUE eyes hot.

Oh my. Oh my my my my my.

Shit, who needs the treadmill? He could just stand in front of me and I'd work up a sweat.

Hello Hot Service Guy, I'd like to treat you like an ice cream. *ahem*

Yes, I'm happily married. Shut your pie hole. Just because I'm married doesn't mean I don't look and talk a lot of shit...and if you say you don't you're fibbing.

Expecially after seeing Hot Service Guy.

Jeez.

WOW.

Me likey.

BAD ME.....BAD

Toodles

Well boys and girls,

I'm gonna be gone for about a week.

I'm heading down to Savanah GA to see my mother and her husband. While I'm there, I'm stealing a whole bunch of her shit out of storage...okay, I'm not really gonna steal it...she's gonna give it to me...but if I say I'm stealing it, it makes me sound much more tough and hard assed don't you think?

Maybe not.

I don't know when we're leaving because we are waiting on hearing from her to see what her schedule is like, so you'll probably see me around for a couple more days...or maybe not. I don't know.

We'll be traveling at night so Super Baby will sleep and I hate traveling at night. My bedtime is generally 9 and it's gonna suck sweaty donkey balls having to drive 8 hours at night. ( DO YOU HEAR THAT? That teeny tiny little violin in the background? )

At anyrate....I'll be seeing you all in a bit.

Don't cry.

Odds and Ends

The washing machine is half dead, it no longer has a spin cycle. Well, that's not entirely accurate. It has a spin cycle..it just doesn't spin. It guess it would be more accurately described as the sit there and be soggy cycle...much better than the sit on it and spin cycle.

Our 36" TV went to that big repair room in the sky. Charles is terribly upset and obviously forlorn. We replaced it with the 19" TV from our bedroom that has the unfortunate habit of losing it's picture from time to time. Unfortunately, it loses it's picture more frequently these days and for longer periods of time. We used to be able to restore the picture with a light tap to the side, these days, it sounds like the percussion section in the high school band trying to get the damn thing to work.

The ice dispenser in the door of my fridge is only there for decoration now. I have to actually open the freezer door and reach into the tray to get my ice these days. WTF is that? If I wanted to do that, I would have just picked up the fridge that the Salvation Army had put out on the side of the road with a sign that said "Free to a good home"

My dog has the unfortunate habit of humping my cat...we're expecting kuppies any day now.

The age old question of why the chicken crossed the road will never be answered. The dumb bird got squished by a passing motorist just a few feet from my house. There's feathers everywhere (I'm not kidding).

I just read a news article that said a lot of people in a certain overseas country believe that jumping up and down after sex will prevent pregnancy. I don't know about you, but I think if you still have enough energy after sex to jump up and down - there's nothing to jump up and down about...and I have found that a solid punch to the face when initiating sex is the best birth control method I've encountered thus far - but my eye still hurts from the last time.

I'm still trying to figure out why in the hell the Capri Sun people have named one of their drink flavors "Cool Breeze" or some such shit. I think that it's marketing code for "this doesn't taste nasty enough to veto and we've spent a whole lot of time and money developing it so we'll put it on the market anyway...but we don't have the balls to say that it actually tastes like the flavor we were aiming for..so we'll just make some shit up to make it sound cool and the kids will want to drink it."

My daughter and I were sitting in the car waiting to go thru the car wash, when the guy in front of us opens his door, presses a finger against one nostril and blows the other nostril clean onto the concrete, reverse, repeat. I took the entire box of tissues out of my car and took them to him. If you're going to be disgusting enough to do that, I'm going to be rude enough to give you a box of tissues while trying not to blow chunks in your face.

We went shopping for a TV over the weekend and it was no surprise to me that Charles wants a 57" boob tube. He's been saying for years that once the 36" goes, he wants to move up to the 50's. What is the point of having such a big TV? I hate the idea. hate it. hate it. hate it. hate it!!!!!...but he never asks for anything...so I'm going to shut up about it, and we're going to spend the money that I wanted to use for a treadmill on a friggin TV, and the electronic monstrosity of a television will consume the entire living room and I will want to wretch everytime I look at it. I'm pissed about it...but I guess I'll get over it...in about 3-5 years, because that's how long I've been wanting a friggin treadmill. whaaaaaaaaaaa DAMN IT.

CHA CHING!!!!!!

To all of you who have made fun of me for hoarding old statements on things I have paid....

I have only one thing to say to you.....

Click me.

........

Well boys and girls,

I have only one thing to say...

Ticketed for 62 in a 45mph zone.

Ain't that a bitch.

Just In Case You Were Wondering

I'm not dead...

....but I do smell like burnt hair.

I'll explain later....maybe.

Stop Nagging Me Already

Yes yes yes. I know....I'm a bad mother and didn't post any Halloween pictures for you....so live with it. I sent a couple to my mother via camera phone and that's it.

Connor went as a Lil' Devil. I tried explaining to the people who oooooohed and aaaaahed that it wasn't a costume but they just laughed.......I wasn't kidding.

Lauren went as an Angel, complete with great big white wings (purchased), one silver halo (made- that promptly broke as soon as we made our first steps), one long flow-ee shirt trimmed with silver medallion thingys (shirt purchased, I sewed the medallion thingys on), and one really long skirt in a nice silvery-white, trimmed with more silver medallion thingys (I made the skirt and sewed the medallion thingys on - my sewing machine resisted all attempts to be operated by a sewing idiot...but I eventually put it in the head lock and it gave in), outfit completed with tights and tennis shoes (she wanted to wear a pair of her sandals that she had this summer that had heels - I told her she was smoking crack and to go get her tennis shoes on).

I was supposed to dress up as a witch but that didn't work out unfortunately. Charles wasn't feeling very well so I didn't have time to get all made up...I had even gone out and bought some warts, and ugly nose and a long chin to glue on, and some witch's make-up. Charles was supposed to go as a convict (black & white striped costume) - but instead he was a prisoner of the sandman.

Boys 1&2 both went as NINJA's, and I can tell you, it was funny as hell watching them trying to creep up on a couple of the houses and sneak some candy. They were gotten back by one man who had dressed up as a zombie and was propped in the corner of a porch (think floppy looking...like a scarecrow) with the bowl of candy on his lap....they went to grab and WHAMMO!!! instant screaming and crying Ninja's. They didn't take it well.....and yeah, I may be cruel....but I'm STILL laughing at that.

Stinky and Redhead were there too. Redhead led the way and made sure no children got to far ahead. Stinky at candy while fussing at the kids that they couldn't have any until it was inspected *chew, slobber, gulp*. (I fussed at him - his response? - that piece was okay).

All the kids fell asleep on the way home - except for Lauren, and we stopped by our neighbors house S & J and then we were home again. Boy 2 (4 years old) wouldn't wake up and was tucked in to bed in his costume, Boy 1 (6 years old) briefly regained conscienceness for just enough time to remove his costume, slip on some pj's and was off to bed.

Superbaby (18 months old) woke up when we pulled in the driveway and was immediately stripped, wiped down, dressed and put to bed....er...crib.

Lauren (8 years old) however, immediately dumped her bucket of candy onto the dining room table and sorted everything in little piles of all candy that was the same and hovered over it until I inspected it. I was expecting her to devour at least a couple of pieces, but she was content that only 3 pieces got the heave-ho and put it all away again after looking at her sugar treasure once more, counted it carefully, and put it all back in the bucket. She took a shower and went to bed.

The adults just kind of looked at each other and went to bed. All of us were in bed by 8 pm.....a true sign that we're all getting old.

Hope you all had a great time...I'm going to sneak some candy.....see ya later.

Thanks Mom, I Love You

Mom, I know you read me everyday, and I just wanted to tell you thank you.

Thank you for letting me be me.

Thank You:

for giving words of encouragement.

for giving guidance as a friend and a mother.

for never expecting me to be perfect.

for always being there when I need a helping hand.

for having a great sense of humor.

for being a strong person, but more importantly, a strong woman.

for kissing away the hurt in my boo-boos when I was a kid.

for holding my hand - even long distance thru my hurt as an "adult".

for letting me climb into bed with you all those years I had those terrible nightmares.

for holding me and giving me kisses while I was sick.

for being the loudest to stand and cheer for me.

for kicking me in the ass when I need it.

for letting me make my own decisions.

for supporting me even when I made the wrong decisions.

for helping me when Connor was sick.

for loving and accepting Charles into the fold of our family without blinking an eye.

for never saying anything about my parenting skills or lack there of sometimes.

for helping me when figure out something to calm Lauren when she was sleep walking so much.

for helping me to be a better mother thru you.

for helping me be a better wife thru you.

for helping me be a better person thru you.

Thank You for being my Best Friend.

Thank You for being You.

I love you.

It's Either Prayin or Cussin - you pick

Someone emailed this to me and I just had to post it:



After being interviewed by the school administration, the teaching prospect said, "Let me see if I've got this right:

"You want me to go into that room with all those kids, correct their disruptive behavior, observe them for signs of abuse, monitor their dress habits, censor their T-shirt messages, and instill in them a love for learning.

"You want me to check their backpacks for weapons, wage war on drugs and sexually transmitted diseases, and raise their sense of self esteem and personal pride.

"You want me to teach them patriotism and good citizenship, sportsmanship and fair play, and how to register to vote, balance a checkbook, and apply for a job.

"You want me to check their heads for lice, recognize signs of antisocial
behavior, and make sure that they all pass the state exams.

"You want me to provide them with an equal education regardless of their handicaps, and communicate regularly with their parents by letter, telephone, newsletter, and report card.

"You want me to do all this with a piece of chalk, a blackboard, a bulletin board, a few books, a big smile, and a starting salary that qualifies me for food stamps.

"You want me to do all this and then you tell me...

"I CAN'T PRAY?"

Hello My Bitches

I thought I'd stick my head in the door to show you I still have all my hair and let you know how things are going.

First of all, Stinky tells me I have a lot of loyal readers in the land of big bad TX. (The grand state where people will kick your ass for making fun of the freaky road systems and they are infinately proud that Texas could break up into 5 smaller states at any given time - why I don't friggin know, but I know that you are proud because every time I meet someone from Texas, they make sure they tell me all about it). May I eloquently say "What's up?" with a nod of my head and thank you for subjecting yourselves to this particular torture.

Secondly, I would like to say a heart felt appreciation to everyone who left a comment on my blog about the "Cat Punting Incident" as I have come to call it. Everytime I logged on to take a look-see around and check my comments...saw there was more comments....I sweetly told him he had more hate mail. I would like to thank you for you words - seriously - he has sworn to me that he will never lay his hands on my animals again - and Charles doesn't break his word. Your words with mine seem to have brought him around and both cats have come home and gotten cleared by the Vet. It took several days before Night-Night would be coaxed and cajoled back into the house, but I finally got him and he hasn't left yet. That's just fine by me. He's very soft and makes an excellent head warmer while I'm sleeping LOL.

Thirdly, Carmachu wanted to know the history on my cats....

All three of my cats are rescues. Back in Feb 2002, I went to pick up Lauren at daycare and a very small cat (not kitten) tried to slip into the building behind me to get out of the cold. I said something to one of the teachers about the little kitty outside and she replied that the cat now lived in the bushes outside the facility and had been there for several days...to her knowledge, she had not eaten. Lauren looked at me with her sweet little girl face and asked if we could keep her (she's an animal lover like her mother). I went home, got a card board cat carrier and went and got her. We named her Jezebel, started calling her Jazz, and she's been one of the best cats I've ever had. I think someone had her and turned her out because I never had to teach her to use the litter box, the scratching post and she has never ever jumped up on the counter or the table. She is full of manners and is almost prissy....she's also very skittish but I've never had a more gentle and sweet natured cat. She pats me very gently on my face with her paw when she wants me to pet her, and she has only scratched me once the entire time I have had her, and that was on accident when we were playing with her feathers. She was starving when we took her in. I could clearly see her ribs and the vet recommended I turn her into the shelter because of her condition. I didn't, and she sleeps at my feet every night.

A few months after we moved into this house, around Thanksgiving (this is about 2 years after we got Jazz), I kept hearing a kitten meowing over at our property line with our neighbors (not the neighbors I've told you about before) and figured they had either gotten a cat or had taken one in (as we had a colony of feral cats here). For 3 days, I kept hearing this kitten and finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I went outside and called and he trotted right up to me. I thought that Jazz was skinny, but this cat was half dead. I can honestly say, I had not, up to that point, seen a cat in worse condition than he was at that moment. We named him Tom (after begging Charles to let us keep him) and he and Jazz eventually learned to get along well. He likes to curl up in the crook of my arm or my knees when I sleep.

That very next year, again in the winter, Charles and Lauren and I were in the living room and I happend to look outside through the sliding glass door. I was shocked to see a cat looking in. He was laying down with his feet tucked underneath him and was looking directly at me. I said "Charles! Look at that! Have you ever seen a cat do that - a cat that you don't know?" "There might be something wrong with him. That's not normal." I was inclined to think he was right. Tom is very territorial - even after being neutered - and does't allow cats around the house. But it was cold, we had just had a bit of snow with a thick layer of ice on top and he looked kind of thin - at least insofar as I could tell with dim porch lighting. "I think he's cold and hungry."

Lauren finally perked up and wanted to know what we were talking about. I pointed out the cat on the back porch and she of course wanted to keep him. We both told her immediately that it was out of the question since we already had enough pets and couldn't afford any more vet bills...but I kept looking at that cat. It was late, and animal control wouldn't be able to come out our way until they cleared the roads, and that was going to take a while since we live so far out in the country - days.

"I'm going to check him out honey. At least give him a box to sleep in or something and give him something to eat."

"God NO!" We can't afford what we have now! Don't feed him or he'll keep coming back."

"I know we can't keep him honey, but I just feel so bad for him. I'll give him a look and something to eat, you know he's cold. When Monday rolls around, I'll take him to the shelter myself." (we have no kill shelters here)

Charles finally agreed and I bundled up and opened the sliding glass door to go check him out. He ran in the house and made himself as at home as much as we would let him. He REFUSED to be coaxed into a cat carrier to be taken to the vet and animal control never came. He had pretty bad frost bite on his paws (and his over all condition was terrible - I think he would have been dead with in a few days or less if we hadn't fed him - his general condition was aweful, just so hearbreakingly terrible) and he needed to be looked at...but I have never had a cat get ugly with me like he did when he saw that cat carrier. I called the vet, he remembered me from Jazz, Tom and my dog Spud and knows my neighbors S and J (which is how I got his name - S is a big animal lover)and he stopped by...free of charge. (Yes, I almost had a stroke) The vet offered to take him then, but Charles had made the fatal mistake of becoming attached to him and let me see it.

Neither Tom nor Jazz are lap cats. Night-Night is, and that's what Charles likes.

It was so weird when the vet offered to take him, the cat just looked at me like he KNEW what was going on and was asking to stay. I looked at him and said half jokingly "Don't look at me! If you want to stay go talk to him" - pointing at Charles. He trotted up to Charles, jumped in his lap and preceeded to lay on the love. Lauren and I looked at each other and went "AAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" and Charles told us to stop because we weren't keeping the cat - the whole time rubbing him and loving on him and I could see he was melting like hot butter.

We spent two days picking out his name. He's the one that sleeps on my pillow.

East Coast Living

I had thought about breaking this up into 3 different parts, but that is going to take entirely to much effort and I have shit to do. Read some now, and come back later and read the rest if you can't stand to read it all in one go. (lazy ass)


I love living here on the east coast. Really I do. I've lived further inland and have visited as far west and north as Montana - and it was beautiful, but I like living here. Lots of trees, lots of green shit all over the ground (the animals have upset stomachs) and I can grow an ass load of flowers and shit if I can ever manage to keep the friggin Japanese Beetles from killing every damn thing (notice how I blame them).

There are a few disadvantages to living over here:

1 - Inbreeding. Laugh if you must, but it's a friggin reality. You know the story of somebody's cousin gettin' hitched to one of his cousins? Yeah well, I have a distant cousin that did that. I'm not kidding. They are second cousins and they have offspring. No shit. They were fully aware when they tied the knot. Apparently, it didn't matter. Their kids have 6 toes (okay, NOW I'm joking - or maybe not - I've never met their kids or seen their feet - of course, If I had seen their feet with out actually meeting them that would imply that they are detachable or they've been severed and either thought is just a little to "out there" for further contemplation)

2 - The BUGS. Oh My God. I have wolf spiders around my house that are as big as my palm. I'm not kidding or exaggerating. It's plain nasty.

We also have Japanese Hornets, Yellow Jackets, Bumble Bees, Carpenter Bees, Honey Bees, Wasps, stinging flies, biting flies, horseflies, gnats, mosquitoes, fleas, ticks, a BILLION species of moth, Black Widow spiders, Brown Recluse Spiders (I just found out the other day from one of my clients that there have been a rash of those biting people here lately), red backed spiders, regular black spiders, garden spiders, Japanese Beetles, cicadas, Katiedids, June Bugs, Beetles, cockroaches, termites, grasshoppers, crickets, camel crickets and any other kind of insect that "The Big Cheese" decided he wanted to torture me with. (Thanks for that God - 'preciate it).

I live in a cloud of DEET, go through endless cans of bug spray and I'm starting to seriously consider having an affair with "Bubba" (cause that is one guy the can chew some Hubby Bubba - even if he only has one tooth) the pest control guy to cut down on the monthly costs of treatment. Hey, it's all about home economics and tightening the budget belt. This is just one of ways they don't teach you in school or talk about in expose magazine articles. I mean, I've already seen his crack - you'd think he was a damn plumber with the way he shows it off or something, and you really know a lot about a guy after you've seen his crack.

3 - Storms. I hate storms. I'm scared of Thunderstorms. (insert wussy jokes here) I hate it when the storms roll in with low hanging clouds and the thunder shakes the house. I'm constantly walking to all the windows in the house - back and forth, back and forth, to look out of the windows. My x-bastard said I looked like a caged puppy - to wit I responded that I wouldn't be waggin' my ass in his direction anytime soon.

Hurricanes and all Tropical Storms suck big donkey dicks. They throw out tornados for fun and that just doesn't endear them to me. I want to keep my shit thank you. I won't appreciate having to crawl out from underneath the ruins of my homestead and walking a mile down the road with the baby on my hip to pick up old bank statements and deny that any of the other rubbish is mine so I don't have to pay to have it removed.

Ernesto the Pesto hit here this past friday. It wasn't to bad. I was expecting worse to be honest. It turned east before we got the full wallop and so we were spared the horribleness of the eye of the storm.

I worked all day and left at exactly 5pm. I was worried about some of the low spots flooding out on the roads for me to get home, so I drove as fast as was safely possible and beat feet to the house. I stopped by the little country store that is 2 1/2 miles away from my house and picked up a gallon of milk and a couple packs of cigs and went home. No worries.

I walked in the house and there was no power, no phones, no nothing. DAMN.

You may remember that Charles has been out of town in NC. We were also still expecting the worst of the storms in a couple of hours. So there I was, in the house with Lauren (who is also scared of storms) and with super baby, a dog, three cats, and I'm sure an endless variety of creepy-crawlys that had managed to squirm, wriggle and bore their way into my sactuary to get out of the rain. Did I mention it was starting to get dark? Yeah, the fun factor went right off the scale.

Like I said, it wasn't to bad. We got a lot of rain - which we needed and that was about it...except there were no lights and no phones. Super kid had mercy on me and went to sleep for the night at 7pm - an unheard of phenomenon. Lauren and I made a great big pallet on the living room floor and I read her some of The Hobbit until the lighting was bad enough I had to stop before my eyes exploded.

We made shadow puppets in the flickering candle light and watched the storm whip the trees around a bit.

The lights came on about 9ish and Lauren jumped up and down and yelled "MOVIE!" - so that was the end of the quality mother-daughter time.

The phones didn't come back on until about 6 or so Sunday night. Did I mention I have dial up? Did I mention that I read blogs EVERY DAY???? I was about to DIE. Hello, my name is Nikki, and I'm addicted to the internet.

I was FORCED - do you hear me? - FORCED to spend quality time with my family. Now they think I love them or something.

Cleanin House - Changing Things

I preppin' the house for some long term guests to come and live.

Over the 8 years hubby and I have been married we've accumulated a lot of "stuff" and never really dealt with a lot of the paper stuff. We've just let it stack up and collect dust, squirreled away in boxes, boxes stacked in the backs and corners of closets.

When we moved in this new house, those boxes moved into my Den and have stayed there quite happily, never bothering anyone (except me when I walk by) with their peaceful and carpet protecting existence. Over time, they have gotten friends to keep them company. The bassinet that Connor grew out of, the Christmas ornaments and Christmas tree boxes (to make room in the closet in Connors room when he moved into his room), and any other sort of bit that your house collects and you just can't bring yourself to really go through and throw away.

Now that I have friends coming to stay for quite a while, they have to go. The Den needs to be cleared out so that we can have room for all 8 of us that will be living in my house, room for the furniture they'll be bringing for extra seating.

I have cleared out eight boxes so far and have found an old CD that I bought six years ago and could never find. I've gone thru and saved obscene amounts of military documents and have even put away old military uniforms that Charles wants to keep for some reason. I found all the old awards for Charles and I and he wants to put endless amounts of holes in our walls in the computer room to show them off (called a vanity wall - one for him, and one for me). I have found numerous stray pictures that have somehow not gotten into the photo box and I can't resist looking at them and feeling the memories and smiling at most of them.

I found the letters that Charles wrote to me while he was deployed to Albania, and the ones I wrote to him. I have found the frillies and sexies that I used to wear pre-babies and ker-trashed them. A ton of Lauren's pictures and papers from school and daycare and craft projects galore, most of them dated for saving. I found a love letter from an old boyfriend, the one and only man that really broke my heart - not even my ex-hubby did that - and I kept it too.

I found a couple of issues of my high school newspaper that I used to write for, my by-line proudly showing. I found a plethora of recipes and patterns for things I've always wanted to try, things I wanted to do. Old jewelry has surfaced, things that I had thought lost forever. Pictures we still haven't hung and decorate-y things that I don't want anymore.

I have given all the baby clothes that Connor has out grown to the daycare center that he goes to and have also given them his old bouncy chair/walker thingy. I gave his old baby swing to the director there, she just had her first grandbaby and carries a picture of her around in her pocket at all times.

In the mean time, school has started so I'm back to my hectic schedule of rush-rush home, play, cook, clean, check homework, take care of cats, take care of dog and do it all RIGHT NOW! RIGHT NOW I SAY!

Lauren has fallen into the old routine of giving me drama when I tell her to go take a bath and grumbles about having the earlier bedtime with no movies to watch at night.

Connor has moved out of the baby room on to the toddler room at daycare and I can't help but feel sad and happy and sad again. My last baby is growing up and it's going to fast.

Charles is still working hellish hours to make sure we stay caught up on the bills, getting home between 9-12 every night 4-5 days a week.

I'm feeling a bit melancholy - it's probably just the damn hormones.

The PMS Post - RUN!!!!

I really don't have that much for you today (dry your eyes). I'm busy making friends with people that matter. LMAO - you know I'm kidding for Pete's sake. I'm PMSing and I'm not in a good mood so here's some fluff.

I got the doll link from Nikki's site. It's pretty fun. Something to screw around with a make all cutsie.

Also, go here. Send an Isreali (is that spelled right) - you get the drift - a soldier from Isreal, a piece of chocolate. They're fighting a war damn it - the least you can do is point and click and give 'em a yummy. If you don't, then you're a piece of shit - and I mean that. It's a fucking peice of chocolate and it's not costing you a penny so send it already. (ahem - it's seems I'm PMSing rather hard - forgive me). I got this from Carmachu's site.

Excuse me while I overdose on Midol and Pamprin.

The Cold Hard Truth

I'm working out in the morning with Dennis Austin doing aerobics. I have also tried pilates and yoga for the first time ever. None of it was pretty. I've been thinking of going running in the mornings but I live down very narrow country roads and I'm afraid I would go squish by some ass-wipe in a jacked up truck with extra big wheels sporting those ridiculous KC lights on a chrome roll over bar with rusted out wheel wells.

As far as the exercise - it feels like I'm back in the military doing PT (physical training) waking up at 5 a fucking clock in the morning to go to muscle failure and torture myself (you can't have all the fun now can you). I don't want a repeat of basic training, so I've been taking it easy, breaking myself back into the routine, to the walking around like an old lady but keeping the benefit of being able to lift my arms to wash my hair (which is a good thing).

In relation to food - you must understand something. I'm anorexic. I'm the only fat anorexic I know, but once anorexic, always anorexic. I never really obsessed about my weight until I joined the military. They had a scale - something I never really got on, and they said I could only weigh so much - and I weighed 4lbs over that when I joined the Army. They sent me to "Fitness" - basically a fat camp and it shamed me. It shamed me to the CORE. The Drill Sergeants were hoovering over us at all times, making sure we weren't eating anything we weren't supposed to and smoked our asses 3-4 times a day (definition of "smoked" - making a subordinate soldier do so much exercise that they would often physically collapse from muscle failure). I stayed there for a bit and finally proceeded to basic training, where I slimmed down considerably but gained more weight from all the muscle. I met the taping requirements with no problems (this is where they get a tape measure - like the one's used for sewing - and measure your neck, wrists, hips...and something else, I forget ((different spots for men))) and they measure your body fat. I moved on to AIT (advanced individual training) and was able to relax a bit, however, I was still not making the height/weight requirement and had to get taped - a stigma of the sloppy female soldier that I DID NOT want, but didn't know how to go about doing what they wanted done.

I met another female soldier, Shay, and she advised me to skip a couple of meals. I took her advice, got off the tape, and was so pleased with my results, I continued to not eat. I'll give you an idea of how much weight I lost - I went from a size 14 to a size 10 in 6 months, most of that size change came in the last 2 months. I moved on to my Permanent Duty station and one of the high ranking section Sergeants made a remark that he didn't think I heard. He said "Why does the Army have to send us FAT females" After that, it was on. I ate about every 3 days or so. I'd have a slice of pizza - a small one and be so full because my stomach had shrunk to half the size of my fist. The only person who had a clue (including my hubby) was the First Sergeant. Why did he know? Because the scales were in his office and I would often sneak in his office to weigh myself - EVERY DAY. He caught me a few times and made a remark that it seemed I had a problem with my weight. I laughed it off and never went back. That left me bereft of scales. I didn't dare have them in my room, some one might become suspicious because I was so thin. I did without - and it didn't do me any favors.

I now had to GUESS how much I weighed. Can you say MENTAL TORTURE???? During this time, I was doing the required PT in the morning and additional PT in the afternoon they also required. Basically, I was running about 8 miles a day or more and working out my abs, my upper body, and any other muscle group I could. When I got to go back to the barracks for the evening, if my room mate was out, I would exercise MORE. Always more. MORE MORE MORE. It was never enough. I couldn't tell how much I weighed. I couldn't take the risk of having a scale. I plummeted to a size 8.

I looked like a walking skeleton. My spine protruded, and it really hurt when we would do sit ups on the concrete at PT. I lost almost all fat stores. It didn't click with me that it shouldn't hurt to sit on cushioned surfaces, or that I looked sick, even when a couple of people commented to me that they thought I looked sick. I chalked it up to them seeing things and continued doing what I was doing. My chain of command was happy. I wasn't another fat female, I did PT with the males and I was Air Assault Qualified (I jumped out of helicopters). My numbers made their numbers look good, I didn't cause to much trouble, and they left me alone.

How did I get this under control?? Well, I didn't really, but when I found out I was pregnant with Lauren, I stopped this cold turkey. The only problem was, I no longer knew how much to eat and it be okay. HOW MUCH WAS THE CORRECT AMOUNT????!!! I didn't have a fuckin clue. I was terrified of not giving her what she needed, so I over ate and gained 100lbs while I was pregnant. I lost all but 30 lbs of that weight (NOT doing the anorexic thing), which was a good weight for me, and gained it all right back with Connor.

I finally went and sat down with a Nutritionist after I got pregnant with Connor. Problem still there, still not fixed, but much, much better. Charles gives me "the eye" if I say I'm not hungry, and I don't want my daughter thinking it's okay not to eat.

Yeah, I have food issues, but hubby keeps his eye on me and I want to live a long long time. I want to grow old with my man and watch him dandle our grandbabies on his knees. I want to be there for Lauren when she needs that shoulder - that mommy shoulder, even when she's 30.

So don't freak out - I'm being good. Charles is helping me do this the right way, again.