Archive for June, 2011

The Summer Is Flyin’ By

Yeah, the summer is flyin’ by, and I’m spinnin’ around in circles goin’ “Hunh? Wait, I’ve got more stuff to do! How’d it get to be the end of June? I’m not READY, damnit!” Einstein must have some kinda theory that can explain why three weeks with my lil’ grandkids visiting has flown past like a chicken in a tornado while my last three weeks of work before summer vacation were like a root canal that took five years with a dentist singing off-key showtunes.

For your late night viewing pleasure:

For your not safe for work viewing pleasure, depending on where you work. There are some workplaces that don’t have anything against nekkid people in the sauna pickin’ and grinnin’. I don’t actually work for one of those workplaces. If you do, and they have any openings, let me know. Well, openings for actual work for monetary compensation. Not for a place in the sauna.

h/t to Aladin Sane at Grouchy Conservative Pundits for bringing this amazing Finnish group to my attention.

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More Hair Follies

SwampDaughter and I got our hair cut Thursday evening. Her instructions to the hairdresser were to redneckify it by shortening and layering because she felt the need for big hair again. Her previous hairdresser had decided that a busy working mother with three young children including a newborn really needed hair like Kate Middleton along with a regimen that included blow drying and styling for a half hour in the morning. Snort. Like that’s gonna happen. Daughter has full, thick, wavy hair that, with layers, will look gorgeous with no blow drying whatsoever.

After I got my hair cut, she said “Word of advice. When giving instructions about your cut, do NOT say things like ‘short and fringy’. You REALLY need to give better instructions.”

WHAT? I have full, thick hair, too. Unless I get it under control with a whip and a chair (or a scissors wielded in a ruthless hand), I look like Einstein on a bad hair day.

She’s right, though. My hair, though short, isn’t NEARLY fringy enough.

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And They All Go Home

I hadn’t gotten enough groceries for guests Friday night when I had gone to the grocery store. I found out Thursday that Mommy, Dylan, Jacob and Zoe were going to be staying the night Friday instead of going home. Oh, my. What to make for dinner?

I thawed chicken thighs, made some stuffing, threw in some broccoli, garlic, leftover stuff and fresh pineapple, put it in a big glass casserole dish, put the chicken thighs on top, sprinkled freshly chopped garlic, lemons, pineapple, salt and rosemary over the top, and put it in the oven at 375 for an hour and a half.

Unfortunately for me, from a food standpoint, when Mommy got home, she told me that Daddy was coming home Friday night after all, so she was going to pick something up for her and the boys on the way home.

I told SwampMan that dinner was ready. A LOT of dinner. He dug in, and was *very* impressed with the result. “Wow, this stuff is GREAT! Uh, what are the odds that you’ll be able to make it exactly like this again?”

*sigh* I had to tell him that the odds would be overwhelmingly negative since it was something I just pulled together without measuring with the ingredients on hand. He laughed. He gets a lot of one of a kind meals.

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My List of Things To Do Ain’t Done Yet

I’ve been doing the zombie walk around the house today. You know. The one with dull, staring, bloodshot, unseeing eyes, shambling through the house muttering about “must have caffeine”. This morning was the second morning in a row where the little pumpkin woke up between 2:30 and 3:00 a.m. ready to play OR ELSE and didn’t go back down for a nap for three hours or so. That was AFTER she decided to go to sleep somewhere between 11:30 p.m. and midnight.

Poor Mommy has to get up early to go to work. Since I do not want Mommy to euthanize the public, which she is wont to consider doing when she doesn’t have enough sleep because she IS my daughter, I took over the early morning floor walking and baby bouncing without even asking permission. I probably ought to get some sort of humanitarian award for that. A chocolate humanitarian award with a double shot of caffeine would be nice.

SwampMan, bless his heart, took the boys out to breakfast earlier this week to give me a chance to get some things done around the house since I would only have the little pumpkin to care for. No “MeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeMaw, I need more choclit milk!” No “Meeeeeeeeeeemaw, I’m not hungry right now!” and then, right after breakfast is finished “Meemaw, I would like breakfast now”. I spent the time while everybody was gone in rapt adoration of the tiny little fingers and toes on the little pumpkin while she slept in my arms. Giant housekeeping fail!

So, today, after lunch, SwampMan took the boys off again for various chores and then off to town for a milkshake. *sniff* I think a lonely, bereft milkshake is calling my name out there somewhere. Maybe a humanitarian award chocolate and peanut butter milkshake. I did get half the house vacuumed. No dusting, though. The dishwasher was loaded (and started this time). Towels were folded. Mostly, though, I carried a little pumpkin around in my arms because she cried like I was breaking her teensy little heart every time I put her down.

Well. Guess it is time to break her teensy lil’ heart before SwampMan comes home and says “NOT AGAIN!” The bathroom and kitchen counters need some urgent attention and, if she sleeps longer than a little catnap, I need to find Ruby’s old kennel, clean it, and prepare for Border Collie’s weekend visit. I think Sheila would be a good name for the dog. Not that I’m going to keep her. But if I DID, that is what I would name her.

*sigh* The lil’ pumpkin didn’t sleep long enough for me to write the post. She’s giving me the “attend me NOW, serf!” stare.

Must. Obey.

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Emergency Back Up Dog?

Daughter called today about a Border Collie that needs a foster home while she completes heartworm treatment, then a forever home via adoption. *sigh* I know that she thinks that I need an Emergency Back Up Dog since my beloved companion of so many years, Odie, passed away the weekend before school ended. It will be awhile, I’m afraid, before I can even write about Odie because the wound is still too fresh.

I don’t really have time right now for another dog. I don’t even have space any more. Chickens are in the dog kennels (grin). This new dog will have to be kept quiet and walked on a leash for her potty breaks until she is finished with her heartworm treatment. She will have to be kenneled to make sure that she doesn’t kill chickens and ducks (which she probably will).

Daughter said “I’ll bring her home and you can keep her overnight and see how she works out!” Daughter has lots of enthusiasm and is sure that this dog will be a Good Dog and an asset to our family. Yes, she wants us to adopt her. Oh, dear. Dog is going to be here in about an hour. Where to put her? Uh, no, NOT in the house, thank you.

Hmmmmm. Daughter also thinks that she and I will look good in matching fuschia and hot pink hair. Or is it turquoise and bright red?

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I Used To Be Better at Juggling Stuff

In my memory, I used to be better at juggling household chores, children, livestock, classes, doctors appointments, grocery store runs, etc. better when I was younger, but maybe my memory is just faulty. Maybe I could only keep the balls up in the air so long before they came crashing down.

I bet this person never forgot to buy the ingredients for dinner just because he was on a 4-hour hike in 100-degree temperatures during the middle of the day.

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Happy Father’s Day!

Happy Father’s Day to all you dads out there. Fathers really DO matter. My wonderful husband had the kids around him all the time. He taught auto mechanics, welding, wiring skills, plumbing, etc. When the kids wanted something like a skateboard ramp, he said things like “there’s some lumber and power tools. Go build it!”

I did get real upset when I came home one day and found a toddler sitting on the roof, though. I’m STILL finding out things that Daddy let them do when they were little that I wouldn’t.

I will be spending the day with my stepdad. He’s been in very ill health lately. He is in his 80s, has end-stage COPD, and weeks of thick, smoky air mixed with the heat and humidity has taken it’s toll, and I fear it is his last Father’s Day. He has hung on grimly for so long out of fear of what will happen to my mother when he is gone, for his pension will not transfer to her, and she had to retire early in order to care for him.

He need not fear, of course. Mom is welcome here any time, and my brothers would love to have her as well.

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