Birthdays

Disclaimer: I am not in the mood for my usual snarky and feisty bent. Bear with me. It's temporary, I assure you.
Sunday was my mother's birthday. She would have been 61. Shamefully I have not called my father yet either. He hides things from me that I know he tells other people. Maybe I'm saving him some trauma too. Somehow I doubt it and it will probably come back and bite me in the butt around the corner here. I miss my mom, but dad has been lost the past 2 years without her. They were together a total of 35 years, married for nearly 33 of it. There's a part of Mass that thunked the tear ducts and I leaked a little Sunday. It's not often I get sad about the death of my mother. It seems a bit weird that I don't, I guess. I made peace with it sooner than most people make peace with a parent dying. She had her quirks and oddities and I acquired a few of my own. But I always loved her because she was my mother. I didn't really KNOW her till she died though. I vowed that my kids would know more about my story because I didn't want to have them learn it from an aunt or other relative like I did. I want them to have the opportunity to ask me questions about why I do certain things etc. Like, why I make a deal out of birthdays, even if I'm broke and can only make a cake at home and improvise steak with salisbury steak instead. In my household, your birthday nets you a dinner meal of your choice (within reason and family budget of course) and cake. Birthdays were just another day in my parents' household. A number of years ago, I started a new birthday practice. I used to call my mom on my birthday and wish her a happy birthing day. Maybe when my kids grow up they'll do the same. Yea, I know, call me odd. It's a quirk I have.

I'm taking bets on when it's going to be Spring.

I am sitting here with fresh air drifting into my house via open windows, and enjoying the short lived relative quiet that only exists in the absence of my son. It's February, and I'm enjoying this beautiful weather that so many yankees call Summer temperatures. It's only nice because hell hasn't awakened and come to the Earth's surface for a visit yet. Even that has a hibernation sesason. I began thinking about what kind of weather to expect next month too. For those of you unfamiliar with North Florida weather patterns, March has one of two. We'll have freezing cold early and absolutely GORGEOUS weather at the end of March. .....OR.... We'll have gorgeous weather like we're having today early in the month and then the end of the month gets that bitter cold. I say bitter because when you've been out doing yardwork that comes with plant growth after 80* days, followed by 25* temps...it IS bitterly cold to us. For Florida, 20's and 30's IS COLD thank you. Yes, we even get temperatures below 20* on occasion. The TPC moved the tournament here at Sawgrass to May because March is so unpredictable. I don't know why the wussies did that, golf is supposed to be a little unpredictable. I mean where else can you run the chance of mimicking some of St. Andrews' breezes without leaving North America? Being a flat state though, you'll have to go elsewhere for the cliffs. I have my suspicions about the weather this March. What are yours?

Tell me what's wrong with this picture, and I'll tell you why I ask

is ESPN hiring?

DH watches ESPN constantly. If it's not the PS2 game (Madden, Tiga-Tiga Woods ya'll, or some war game) then it's usually ESPN. As he's ironing his shirt for work, he's watching ESPN FirsTake. It's a show that features the likes of Skip Bayless. I dislike the sound of Madden's voice, and this guy Skip ranks up there with Madden on my list. The man whines and moans about every thing. I don't know that I've heard a nice thing come out of his yap yet. Before the Jaguars were "on the map" this year, this putz was one of the many broadcast people badmouthing and ragging on the Jaguars. Then he jumped on the bandwagon when the Jags started doing well. But that's not why I dislike this individual. It's because he's just so negative. It's a wonder he hasn't already sucked the life out of his two colleagues at the desk with him. The NFL Combine is around the corner. For those of you who tune out sports, it's basically a job interview en masse for college football players. When asked if he was going to watch the Combine, Skip's voice took a tone of nose-upturned. He informed his colleague that he would be watching the golf tournament because he has no interest in the combine. Well, parrrrdon us! If you don't have any interest in the combine, shut your yap about it and just say "I didn't plan to watch it, I have something else in store for the weekend." Leave the better-than-you attitude at the stage entrance. I am but a mere novice sports fan, however, I could quickly adapt and learn the ropes of the job. If only ESPN was taking applications to replace Skippy boy there. For one thing, I'm much easier on the eyes and ears than he is.

priceless panties

This bit of blog fodder brought to you in part by Shannon.
My day has been a little busy. In the midst of this I have a sniffly-allergies-gone-awry child. She wanted to don jammies and take a nap at 5PM. I told her to get into jammies, she had to get bathed. She took a shower and because she was cold, hurriedly put on her clothes. She then fell asleep before dinner, only to wake up a short time ago. She came over to me and said that her panties were giving her wedgies. I may have missed a too-small pair in the decluttering process, so I scoped the side seams and back waistband for a tag to see what size they were. Couldn't find one. I noticed her attire did seem amiss. I folded the front waistband over a bit to discover the problem. There was the tag. In front. Which explains the wedgies. She ran off saying "I gotta go change them around", and announced to the daddy as she zipped past him "I got my underwear backwards!" She returned looking relieved to not have tot-thongs any longer, and proceeded to tell me she was hungry. She should've stayed up for dinner.

Package of 7 pair of underwear: $8.00
Comfy pajamas: $12.00
Realizing you really don't own thongs: Priceless.

Furnitureless Home

Talk about simple living. What we have here is not homeless furniture....but furnitureless home. My dh is taking apart the beat-to-hell sleeper sofa so it can be sent to the curb. My older sister came to visit one day and bent the sleeper frame and hence the entire supports of the couch. She's disabled from a work injury some 17+ years ago, and subsequently obese, with very limited mobility. So when she sat on the couch she bent the bedframe underneath the cushions and the couch has never been the same since. It was a really comfortable couch before the sister and kids caused the carnage. The kids jumped on the arms of the couch, preferring to go OVER the couch than circumnavigate it. It needed to go out a long time ago, but dh and I could never agree on what furniture would replace it. I guess my summer will be spent on patio furniture situated INSIDE the house as opposed to the patio. I think the more likely scenario will be that I'll be finding myself waaay more often planted in my old squeaky metal base office chair from a long ago era. It's more comfortable than the floor and well....very conveniently located right here in front of my computer (aka my "glowing box"). I tried convincing him to wait till we had a replacment, I was met with "it's a piece of crap and falling apart and dilapidated, it's going to the road. I don't care if we have something else to sit on or not right now." In short, he's getting tired of the old stuff. He said the same thing when he took his equally beat-to-hell recliner that the kids mangled to the road a few months ago. At least I still have beds, dressers, my desk and a dining table. He thinks going to a lease purchase store is the answer. I cringe at the thought. I'd rather sit on inflatable furniture or bean bags.....I might even prefer to keep it a furnitureless home.

This is mid-dismantling:


This is the trash pile at the road:



In my search online for some place to park my blessed assurance on the occasion I actually stay longer than 2 seconds in the living room, I found a suitable replacement in the Big Lots ad:

lil brother blog fodder

I was talking to my brother, waaaaay into the wee hours. He's at work and wrapping up his night. In the course of conversation he had cranial flatulance. I joked that his train of thought got derailed and fell off the bridge into the water. He said "your head leaks. I should install a blowoff valve so that I can audibly tell when your brain leaks" More love. Really. Don't you just feel it?

My aunt wished VD on me

I got a call from my aunt in Missouri kind of late last night. We do that...night owl tendencies are a genetic mishap apparently. Mine was also compounded by a birth late at night. Our conversation kind of started along these lines

::cell phone rings:: "Hello" (nifty caller ID already told me it was the Aunt)

"what are you doing?"

"reading blogs" (my list is growing by the way)

"ohh. well I was calling to wish you a Happy VD"

"you're calling to wish me a Happy Venerial Disease. I feel loved"

"yea well, it's what I do"



We've always gotten along pretty well. We are quite a bit alike. She has a slightly bendier warp to her humor than I do. She calls other holidays some off-color things too. It's probably best we not disclose them here, in writing, for the whole world to see. She should be able to maintain some semblance of decency and anonymity, even if her children force notoriety on her with their shenanigans. At the very least I can avoid shattering her facade of normalcy. My aunt has often said "Everyone is entitled to their delusions, some people abuse the privelege." She's been prudent with her delusions, I'll let her have this one.





In other news of the day around my abode: I got little accomplished today. I got cranky about something someone did this afternoon. I thought part of my crankiness was caused by a need for a nap, so I took one. That helped dissipate SOME of the cranky mood, but not all of it. The dh was asking what was wrong with me, "I'm cranky" was all he got, despite his pressing me for details. I didn't want to unleash the wench and cause more problems. It just wasn't worth it. The trigger was a minor thing, but really annoys me when it happens. I put on sneakers, went outside and unleashed my annoyance on unsuspecting foliage. Ligustrum and Loquat got tamed without argument. And the big chuckleworthy part of all this.....my dh dragged out the lawnmower and mowed the front yard. Shush, it's February, but it needed mowing back in November. I swear to you I said nothing to him about doing anything around the house today. He said he had no plans for anything, and I believed him. I only went outside to get away from the overload of TV noise. The trimmers were there, the mood struck. I went with it. At least my delusion free whim was productive and no V.D. was involved.

Yes, it's Valentine's Day, but you still have to work

My husband works in a home improvement store, as a department manager. He's been in a few different departments, and the current one is where all the babysitting takes places. He's in essence, the "Head Babysitter In Charge" - front end manager. If these cashiers are scheduled to work, and they call out just because it's Valentine's Day IMO they need to be suspended or terminated immediately. If they get to keep their job, I would hope they get the crappiest of shifts and schedules just because they deserve it. First of all, my husband had to work on Valentine's Day, as did I. I am sitting here with dinner keeping warm in the oven, an hour past when my husband should have gotten off work. Granted he doesn't always leave on time. However, today he would have - because it's Valentine's Day and he wants to do something nice with me. But wait, we are talking about immature people with no work ethic hired as cashiers at his store. Excuse me, but you're now screwing with MY time. I plan my work schedules around my husband's so that I can try to spend time with him, or have a date with him and not have to worry about a babysitter. It's one of the things you do when you work retail. You work around things. Heck, it's what you do as a grownup, you work around things. The schedule is posted in advance. If you know you're going to be working on Valentine's Day, let your sweetie know that alternative plans should be made. Doing something special doesn't HAVE to be done ON February 14th. Now, these fools have tampered with my Valentine's Day and as a result, certain individuals will be getting some kind of token of appreciation from me for doing their part. Meanwhile the rest of them can go find another job. *hmph*

What's in a name?

I have become rather engrossed in reading blogs. I can't really say addicted because I do walk away from the computer. It's the whole chatting on AIM thing that gets my butt in trouble. I get sucked into a conversation and well this girl goes with the flow. In the meantime I follow links from one blog to the next because a link with a Kick A name is calling my mouse to click. Stuff like "Rocks in my dryer" "God do you hear this Southern Girl Rambling?" "CurtJester" "Mental Poo" "Crouching Child, Hidden Alien", "Boobs, Injuries & Dr. Pepper", "Upright and Breathing" (a phrase I stole from a former coworker, stolen by my friend the Persnickety Ticker), my sister's blog "Life is easier as a social reject", and I have forgotten to bookmark the million others that I followed just because the name was cool. I wonder how these individuals have concocted their blog titles, and how it is associated with the blog author.

Mine? Well, fine, I will give you a glimpse but don't expect much. OK first of all, I am primarily of Irish descent. My dad's parents took a boat from Ireland and landed at Ellis Island near the turn of the last century. There's the tie to "Irish". "Feisty", describes me to a "T" in every possible definition listed on dictionary.com (except the part about a farting dog). Feisty is an apt description of me, and if you don't believe me, ask my husband and his friends, and a few others who have encountered me in some mode other than fun. For the record, I'm usually fun - at least till someone strums the wrong chord with me then smart people just get out of my way. "Wench", well it was a fun intent, but just went back to dictionary.com and actually some of that applies too. I am a working girl, and young (age and at heart) but lack the loose morals part of the definition. I mean, I do have those hellraiser tendencies but I somehow manage to keep them in check. When I think of a "wench" I think of the old pub wenches that were basically waitresses (some did more than that *ahem*), and entertained the customers. Keep 'em happy, keep 'em drinking. Well I don't have a bar here on my blog (do you KNOW how difficult it is to get an ABC license?) but if I did, you could have your fill of rum (preferably the Whaler's brand), Yuengling, Sam Adams, Dogfish beers, and whatever else I keep on hand or would keep on hand if this wench wasn't pressed for pennies right now. So you're just stuck with whatever you have since it's more readily accessible to you anyway, meanwhile I'll just be a good little wench and entertain the masses....Someone have a spare tray? I lost mine to someone's cranial region (or was it their posterior?) some time ago.