Friday, March 31, 2006

Momma needs a new pair of boots......

These have to be the coolest boots of all time....however, they are cost prohibitive. Oh, and there are MORE, and you can get custom boots made!!!

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Dreams of Deadwood

(Photograph of Deadwood taken from Deadwood Chinatown)I dreamt I was in Deadwood, South Dakota 2 nights ago, and took my laundry to some Chinaman, that also ran some sort of opium den.......the dream was in black and white, and ended quickly.

One of the only things I can stand to watch on television, has been Deadwood. I seriously have grown addicted to the program.

My DH's had kin up that way in the late 1980's when we began dating, and we took a trip up there with his Grandfather and Grandmother. The visit was more than a vacation, it was the first time I had met D H's Mother. She was the pit boss at a casino called B.B. Cody's. I do recall her walking me through downtown Deadwood pointing out the "old brothels", and telling me the prostititution was just recently outlawed......

"When the gold rush was over, the girls remained. Upstairs houses on Main Street became as much an integral part of Deadwood as legends of Wild Bill and Calamity Jane.

No city ordinance was ever passed to outlaw the practice, despite state laws forbidding prostitution. Several months before the l980 raid the police chief defended non-enforcement of state law."

However tonight I was looking up some information that Dearest Husbands Mother had told me, and I was checking to make sure it was true. I had found it unbelievable at the time. I found this, and had to laugh......

"Prostitution was always a big deal in Deadwood. For more than a century the world’s oldest profession was alive and thriving here. In fact, by the late 1970s, it was one of the only things keeping Deadwood economically viable. Indeed, most residents tend to agree that hunting season has never been the same. My stepfather likes to tell the story about the guy who came to Deadwood to hunt when the brothels were still here, then went back home and asked his wife why she hadn’t packed him any clean underwear. The wife replied that she had – she’d put them in his gun case."

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Where The Wild Things Are

I hate cryptic posts, but need to do this one....just for the sake of letting it go.

I have been stuck between a rock and a hard place. I have tried to be gracious while stuck there. Waved, served cocktails, but frankly, I am a bit tired of being bitten.....

I moved the rock.....and now I am waiting to see what to do next.

We are the Champions.....

*The following is a transcription of events that took place after tonights dinner at Casa De Dust*

DH: "Look at what Pink Ninja did to my shirt, look at this!!"

Me: (looking at at 7 by 4 inch mess of macaroni and cheese, on the shoulder of DH shirt)

Me: "Thats nothing, look at what they did to my tummy." (lifting shirt, and laughing, until I should have cried)

Bright Lights and Big City surprises

Inspired by this post from Bou.....
When I was 15, I was in the Distributive Education Clubs of America, otherwise known as DECA. Why DECA you ask? Well, I was not athletic, or competitive,(my Father proving this after coaching every sports team I was on from 12-14) so sports were out. I wasn't exactly cheerleader material either, so that was out, I hated foreign languages, absolutely no propensity to learn languages, no debate team, or quiz bowl team, no FFA for me either.

The fantastic thing about DECA, lots of trips out of town, and out of state. A great motivator for me, stuck in a little town in the Midwest. You see, we went on vacation a lot when I was girl, however...there was not much variety. The vacations were centered around my Fathers serious hobby of fishing. So we spent most of our vacations on a lake, or in a cabin, in Nebraska, Minnesota, or Missouri. These fishing trips were fun for me, I liked swimming and reading and sitting in the sun, and even the fishing. However I had never been to a big city.

The only thing I knew about big cities was what I saw on television or in the movies. Because of that, I thought my view of big city life, was skewed. I knew there just had to be more to big cities, than the life I saw in the the movie Taxi Driver and the like. I was sure that there was more to big city life than pornographers, hookers, drug dealers, pimps, and police.

When I was 15, I had made it through the state DECA competition in the category of fashion merchandising. Regional Competitions would be in Minneapolis. I was thilled, to be headed to such a "big city". I think I was going through my punk rock phase at this time, and I was soooo excited I would be heading to a big city where I could wear a Mohawk with no second glances. So I saved the $200.00 from my job at the hospital, and headed North with the rest of the team on the school bus. Between competitions, museums, outings with the team.....There were record stores, and clothing stores; filled with things SO many outrageous consumables, I would never be able to find them in my sleepy cowtown. I bought records and t-shirts, and wondered the streets alone during the day. I even got to see my first transvestite at a McDonalds, dressed to the hilt, Adams apple and all. I couldn't take my eyes off of the transvestite through my meal. Staring is bad manners, but I knew this was something I would never see in my hometown McDonalds EVER.

I did follow my parents advice, and stayed in the hotel as soon as it got dark. And from the quiet recesses of my hotel, off of Hennipin Ave. I could see Prince's nightclub, and watched lines of people waiting to get in. Just hoping to catch a glimpse of Prince, or Morris Day. There is also club CC right down the street, and I could see Mohawks and boots and I remember wishing I was of drinking age, or just looked older so I could see Husker Du perform. Instead I sat awake all night sitting in the hotel room window...Wishing. Looking down at the streets, watching my first hookers, and junkies, homeless people......All night. I remember glancing at the clock at 3:00am, and wondering when the city slept, because it still looked wide awake.

So I sat all night watching outside my window, thinking, maybe I will move here someday, and it will be nothing like Mary Tyler Moore moving to this city......

Monday, March 27, 2006

Herd'in cats.

Sunday, marked the first t-ball practice for Dash. First of all, I need to say Pink Ninja REALLY WANTED on the field, but she is 2, and not allowed. Hence, I did not catch most of the "action packed" practice. She was MAD!!

I also feel it is imperative that I add here. Coaching 4 year old t-ball........Requires the patience of a cat herder. Really.

I have been working a little with both of the children on basic fundamental skills. Throwing, catching, swinging the bat, not hitting one another with the bat, don't swing the bat near a human, do not walk in front of a swinging bat. Evolutionary tools, they are without. (Oh, and if we manage to make it through the summer without a bat to the head....I will be amazed.) Anyway, I really have been trying hard to just simply familiarize them with basic skills, it has been a Herculean task. A 2 and 4 year old sometimes offer sooooo much enthusiasm that it can be hard to direct them.

Sunday, we get to the ballpark and there is one coach. One coach, for nine boys all the age of four. "The Dads" all ended up on the field trying to herd boys into the right direction. "The Dads", probably getting more exercise than the boys. One kid would hit the ball, and 5 boys would run after the ball while the other 3 sat in the grass, watching the clouds.

Dash walked off of the field one time, came over to the bleachers for a drink. I do not think he gets it yet. I do not think he understands we will be doing this every week. He has not really talked about it much. He does remember his coaches name, and talked about running the bases. That is it. This week he has been interested in energy resources, and turbines, and generators.

I did not mention anything to the coach about my "Dash". I am gonna let the two of them figure each other out. Which really took a lot of courage for me to do. I am having to step back and just watch. Besides, the guy really had his hands full. Coaching 9 boys and about 12 parents, is a bit like herdin' cats.

Daddy Deathwatch 2006

*The following is an excerpt from a phonecall with my Dad on Sunday morning*

Me: "What cha doin'?"

Dad: (chuckling under breath) "Uh, I am at Menards, picking up a few things."

Me: "Did you get your painting done?"

Dad: (chuckling under his breath) "Uh, I kinda got a little sore, and had some chest pain." (more chuckling)

Me: "Oh, imagine that?"

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Pfft...You Were gone

Thanks for leaving the music

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Overheard at the dressing room in Steinmart today

Uhhh I ain't gonna say who said it, but I will give you a hint. I will note here, I was trying on a blouse I really wanted.....

"Mom, do you wish you were that size?"

*snickering throughout the entire FULL dressing room*

(yeah, I didn't buy the blouse)

I hope I fold

OK, the last post seemed a little harsh. Dear Husband read it, and said, "I do not think you have ever used that many "F" words in one post, you are really mad aren't you?".

The answer is yes.

However amidst all of the anger, I read this in the comments.

"Army Wife,
I feel your pain. My Dad is 88, heart condition, blind, deaf, and loves to argue. Oh, and a total maniac. Go to my blog and click on the Family category and read some of his escapades.
I finally quit worrying and bought a digital camera. He's great material for the blog."

Anyway, I have just recently been introduced to his blog by That One Guy. Any, after reading that comment I had to go over. "Back Home Again".

I, go over and see a photo of Jerry's stubborn 88 year old Dad burning freaking shit.

So Jerry, if you are reading this , you sooo win, I think I am gonna fold, you are the winner in the "Daddy Deathwatch" poker.

Daddy DeathWatch 2006

I just might get fucking t-shirts made up really. So without do, I am here to catch you up on my Fathers latest hijinx. For those of you that have missed parts 1-3 or whatever.... I really should throw the links in here.

Still naughty

More worry

Initial worry
The best part of Daddy Deathwatch , besides the fact that really it is funny at the expense of my Dad. (However I promise, it is not missed on him.) Honestly the best part of this whole mess....I am not embellishing it, I am not overdramatizing a bit of it. Which is why it is so fucking funny at this point.

So I have been calling my Dad at least once a day, for the last 4 years (since my Mom passed). So since the entire "angina thingy" I have been calling at least 2 times a day, unless I am so frustrated I am too busy pulling out my hair, in which case Dear Husband gets the dirty job.

Any-who, so I call his house about 4 times today, no answer....which makes me a little nervous. Only because, unanswered phones on ocassion have led to the discovery of a dead body of a family member a time or two or three. maybe 4?

I finally call his girlfriends cellphone, and hear they are "painting" the rental house my father owns. Fucking painting the entire inside of the rental, ceilings included. They are also moving refridgerators, and stoves, scrubbing floors, installing medicine cabinets and the like. Fucking A.

I hope he did not spend all of my inheritance on paint, because he is sure to die soon.

If I Were Emma Peel.....

I would take down whoever comes between me and the perfect jeans at the "12 hour sale" at Steinmart today !

Mystery of "who tracked dirt in?" solved.

My life here at Casa De Dust is always interesting. I get to play "Emma Peel" more than most of you may imagine.

There is always a mystery that requires solving around here. Whether it be a case of a missing sock, toy, money or sanity. I am always on the cusp of averting some sort of danger, or disaster.

So, I need to keep reminding myself that dometsticity is much "sexier", than I really give it credit for.

This morning was no different, when I walked in the house, and saw mud tracked in.... I started fuming. Heat rising to my head, a flush setting over my face. And with a furrowed brow I scanned the room, getting ready to nab the criminal. I looked down at the tile floor, and follow the tracks, only to note.....

I was the one at fault.

However, I bet I am the only woman in the burbs mopping to Rick James this morning.

Friday, March 24, 2006


Oh and just when I think mopping the floor to Rick James is going well. Unloading the dishwasher to Gary Wright singing My Love Is Alive is even better. Proving that I am a musical pyschopath.

Screen Cleaning

So I run to Basils with coffee in tow, and am now am cleaning. Seriously funny, funny, shit over there this morning.

Oh, and Air Force Family Husband goes to the day spa, and gets a massage by a lesbian.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

If I Were Emma Peel.....

I would meeting with "my people" today over lunch and cocktails.

Ted Kooser Poet Laureate ~ More Poems


"There's never an end to dust
and dusting," my aunt would say
as her rag, like a thunderhead,
scudded across the yellow oak
of her little house. There she lived
seventy years with a ball
of compulsion closed in her fist,
and an elbow that creaked and popped
like a branch in a storm. Now dust
is her hands and dust her heart.
There's never an end to it.

~Ted Kooser


Dash has his first official t-ball practice this coming Sunday.
Dash is 4.

So I get a phone call this morning from one of my favorite people. I will call him FP for short. Anyway he understands Dash, because I think he is probably a bit like Dash himself. FP comes from a family of engineers, he also has a daughter very much like my Dash.

So we are discussing t-ball,and the fact that I really wanted soccer. I really thought it would be a better sort of channeling his energy. I wanted him to run and run and run. I wanted him running with a pack of four year olds. So I find myself dreading the t-ball, which makes no sense. I love baseball, it is one of my favorite sports to watch, and although I am not much good at it now, back when I was a kid I was a pretty outstanding pitcher "for a girl". Anyway, so I am dreading t-ball, I really am. And BOOM it hits me, the epiphany hits me right out of the sky, and it lays in front of me looking like an ugly mess.

I am worried about Dash. And no, it is not because I coddle my children, or am overprotective. Although I am probably guilty of both, a Mothers privilege if you ask me. It is beyond that. I suddenly realized WHY I wanted soccer, it is a TEAM sport. LOTS of 4 year olds running unorganized. Every parent watching they're own child running. Baseball. t-ball is a sport in which turns are taken. Kids go up to bat. I realize what this could mean.

However my Favorite Person on the other end of the phone, even though he is Japan, he says it out loud to me, because he knows what I am thinking. And he says the words.

"It is out of the house now, it is not just between you and him."

And I sat on the other end of the phone understanding what he meant. What has always been in the house, is about to be OUT. Not for a minute, or two. Not a small crowd or group, yeah it is out.

You see Dash is not wired like a normal 4 year old. Dash speaks Spanish to the waiters at the Mexican restaurant down the road, even though we have no idea how he has discerned they speak Spanish, or how he has taught himself Spanish. He has also memorized which banks have certain "makes" of ATM machines. Dash can tell you what shape is a parallelogram, he can also give you the definition of diminuendo (which thanks to him, I had to look up in the dictionary, after he asked me the definition). He can add, and subtract beyond most four year olds in English and Spanish. He is really an amazing child. However there is a down side to some of this, he overloads (for obvious reasons) easily. He is super cautious, and is particular who he lets in, he has some sensory issues. To much noise, or the wrong noise, a wrong touch, a distraction a tag on a shirt, too tight of socks, bright bright light, seems to almost paralize him. He gets LOST doing the simplest of things and tasks. Looking for a toy, or putting on shoes, throws the kids some serious curves.

He is challenging for even me, his Mom. The one person that SHOULD get him. Oh how I try, but I get so lost on the path to him. Oh and I promise you there has been progress, real progress. The screaming and crying out of frustration has gotten better for me, and Dash. He really is trying, learning, and understanding his World. However, I promise you, the World will not give him equal time. Why? Oh it is a hard and long path with this child. A treacherous path most people will not take the time to walk. Because even I his Mother, get to a fork every once in a while and I stand at the fork, and I fear to go forward. There have been soooo many curves on that path. I have taken all of the "usual routes" thinking they are the right paths to choose, and have gotten tangled with demons of frustration and guilt. Was it something I did? Was it the immunizations? Is it Autism? Is it Aspergers? Perhaps he is just a bright and beautiful child.

He is my heart with legs.

Sunday my heart will take his turn at bat, all eyes will be on him. I am wishing for average, I am hoping he just fits in, takes his turn, wear his glove on his head, I hope he fits in.

I do not want him adding the numbers on the back fence, or saying look, that is a KIA Sedona parked over there, giving us all warrenty information.

I want him to have fun.

So, FP, I owe you a huge thank you for reminding me, he is not just mine.........

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Let me pull out my gray hairs while you scoop snow......or...My Fathers Deathwish 2006

If dealing with my Father at this distance was not frustrating in itself, he really tries to "sweeten the pot".


Well click on this link, and you will go right to the newspaper of my Fathers town.

My Father measured 21 inches of snow on his back deck, oh and not only did he measure it. What else would a Cardiac patient with chest pain do, especially one that just spent a day at the ER, and a day at the cardiologist.

Well that certain cardiac patient would proceed to "SCOOP HIMSELF OUT". Yeah, you read right. He fucking thought he needed to scoop, even with nowhere to go.....

That crazy stubborn Midwestern gene kicked in, you know the one, the "We sure wouldn't anyone thinking I can't sccop" gene. Oh, and the snow is not powder. My Father reported to me, it was full of moisture, a good wet snow for the farmers, the kind of snow that is hard to get off your shovel.

So, I had my Dear Husband call my Dad and give him the "BUSTED" discussion. Dad fed him a line of bullshit, that if I were smart, I would start scooping. Because it is getting deep in here people. Between the bullshit scooping, and plucking out my gray hairs, heck I might do my nails.


My pilates teacher, the crazy one, the masochist, the Denise Austin type, said this the other night.

"Ladies, it is vacation time, swimsuit season, lets do 5 more"...

She said it after every single exercise.

The good news, I was not the only one that chuckled, there was a collective sort of groan.

She is right swimsuit season is almost here.

Nothing says Happy Anniversary, like a deployment...

Head on over to Mr. and Mrs. Leflers place, and wish them Happy anniversary!!

The deployed Husbands site, missing a First anniversary is the pits...

Monday, March 20, 2006

Position of the Week #15

Ok, so I am going to yoga, yolattes, and pilates now.

Tonight was yolattes, not so bad. I like the instructor. She is hard, without being nutz about killing me.

However this pose, called "BOAT POSE", in both yoga and pilates.

Boat pose hurts when I do it in yoga, and it is a simple pose in yoga. In Pilates, and yolattes they like to throw sequential things your direction every 15 minutes. Like do "The hundred" (last weeks position if you missed it), and on every fifth count, come up to boat, and then go back to the hundred.

Ok, you try it do this darn boat pose.

The thought of lying in a sailboat used to help me meditate. I would lie and think about waves rocking me, sea air, wind, surf. However, it has been ruined by BOAT pose.

I should honestly have have abs of steel by now.

My Dad is not dead yet

Ok, I feel it imperative to post this, a sort of "death watch" on my Dad, not only am I concerned and feel like calling him every 2 hours, now I fell like I am worrying all of you as well.

He was sent home by his cardiologist today, and let me say this, if it walks like a duck, talks like a duck-"quack". Anyway the cardiologist sent him home with left neck, jaw, arm, and chest pain. This cardiologist is convinced my Father is suffering from a pinched nerve. The cardiologist also saw no need to enagage my Father in the stress test at this juncture. The Dr. Would like to wait 3 weeks. Yes 3 weeks. So if my Father is still alive in three weeks I guess he will be undergoing a stress test.

Ok, I tried every manipulation trick, every card in my deck that I thought would work. These include.

1. "I am a nurse"- route and variations thereof.
2. "You are the only parent I got left, you are it"- and variations thereof.
3. "Don't you want to see these Grandbabies?"- and variations thereof.
4. "Just because the Dr. tells you EXACTLY what you want to hear, does not mean it is the correct diagnosis"- and variations thereof.
5. "Drs. Are human, and we have SEEN MISTAKES MULTIPLE TIMES"- and variations thereof.
6. "You promised me you would not act like your folks and you are"- and variations thereof.

Finally I played the "Jesus Card" with him. My Father and I have this same sort of philosophy about life. So here goes the Family philosophy, my Father and I believe life is about lessons. If you do not get the lesson, guess what, the lesson is likely to present itself again, and again. My Father and I PRIDE ourselves on being quick learners. Once is usually enough for me, Dad too. Of course we have slipped a time or two, heck maybe even 15, but we always "get it" in the end...

So tonight, I said to my Father...

"Ya know Dad, Jesus is a busy guy with things to do, he does not have the time to keep giving you chest pain, he has got shit to do, starving babies to feed, diseases to cure. Just remember that your chest pain, is starting to become a pain in his ass."

I think he is feeling better because he got a fair chuckle out of it, heck he even made his girlfriend get on the phone, so I could share my words with her.....

So I am out of cards at this point, he is a stubborn man, lets just hope he does not die one.

Update on my Pa

Ok, so I called my Father's girlfriend's cell phone this morning. Thankfully, they were in my Father's cardiologist's office. "Waiting" for the cardiologist, getting vitals taken, lab drawn, another EKG.

I guess he had a long night, slept in the recliner. Pain in left chest, radiating to his arm and jaw all night, classic signs and symptoms. I am sick, and only imagine he is sicker.

I have no idea why they did not go to the ER. None, nor did I feel up to a lecture this morning, about how Drs. are human, and just because you are polite Midwestern type and do not like to make waves and cause a fuss, does not mean an early death is the only option.

So now with the snowstorm, the roads are bad, his condition my guess has worsened. A trip to Omaha unless by ambulance is probably not an option. I would be able to tell what is going on with him by his color. My Dad turns ashey and a bit sallow in tone when he is ill. His normally olive toned pretty skin making him look fish out of water.

I have seen this before. The first time 1988, I was a freshman at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln, studying political science. I can remember "Club MTV" had come to campus to film a show. I was dancing alongside Downtown Julie Brown, when I see my dorm mate crossing the dance floor in slow motion. I remember her words "your Dad had a heart attack" sobering me up , and heading back to my small room. A call from my Sister confirming my Father had a mycardial infarction at the house, the ambulance had come and found my father without pulse or breath on the floor of my parents ranch house , and they coded my Father and he was on a helicopter being lifeflighted to a cardioligist in Omaha.

He was 47.

It has happened since then too.

A triple bypass, 2 stints, and a 1 failed angioplasty.

Paging Dr. 90210

I really do not watch TV these days. Other than Dora The Explorer, and Whatever other morning childrens programming "the collective can agree on.

However, I have been having to "share" the computer with Dear Husband. So, I have been getting more "face time" with the televsion. From the time Dear Husband gets home from work until "the collective" are in bed, there is no tv. So when my brother called the other day exploding with excitement about some "game show" Howie Mandel hosts, I was clueless. My Sister is a reality TV addict so half of the time I sit confused on the opposite end of the phone.

However, I have been catching this Dr. 90210 shows. Now personally I think Dr. 90210 is kind creepy, a certifiable pervert in some cases. Oh and I think he is kind of a wuss. I watched a vaginoplasty last episode. Yeah, you read right, a vaginal rejuvination surgery. The added bonus here, she was his receptionist. Now I will add here as a nurse, naked is just naked, but in Dr. 90210's case he was soooooo "overenthusiastic" and "overjoyed" about his receptionists vaginoplasty that even I was uncomfortable hearing him go on and on about how gorgeous her new "look" was.

I am left wondering this. Swimsuit season is round the corner. The pilates and the series of like 200 plus crucnches I am doing daily, is not helping my "look" or my attitude much. So I wonder if I write Dr. 90210 and request a tummy tuck, is it free if I agree to be filmed?

Because, although I think I may be embarrassed about "my tummy" being on TV, I mean after the vagina surgery no one would EVER remember me.

Natural Born shopper

I made my husband follow me around Hobby Lobby yesterday afternoon. He was a good sport, although I think he may have had more fun during his last trip to the Dentist.

However Pink Ninja, converted her hat into a shopping basket. Now that my friends is amazing. Remember she is 2. She removed her hat, velcroed the straps back together for a handle, and purchased a faux lemon. Now, I was proud of her use of resources, but really a faux lemon? The girls already got 2 faux lemons here at the house. Maybe she has picked up a thing or two shoe shopping with her Mom.

"Mom already has a pair of black shoes".

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Another Soldier safe at home

Appears "Matt" back home, to his bride. She sums up the time well. So go over and take a moment to read. The time does drag like she says, and then one morning you find your stomach in knots.

Deployment does interfere with ones sense of time, I have no sense of time any longer. NONE.

Time is relative.

I sit here this morning thinking 18 months, I was alone for 18 months. We military wives are an amazing lot. Oh and we are only one step behind our amazing men.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Gray hairs and heart aches.

Seems like I ask for prayers a lot. My Dear Father, spent most of the afternoon in the E.R. for chest pain. He is a cardiac patient, so it is of much concern. Thank God his fiance is hyper-vigilant. (being a widow once before, and not wanting to do it any time soon.) MY Father is stubborn, but she managed to get him talked into the Dr. after about 12 hours of complaints.

E.R. Docs sent him home, no work for 3 days, into his Cardiologist on Monday for a stress test. I guess the cardiac enzymes were normal, and his EKG was not of concern.

MY advice to him, was keep still for 3 days, don't do much, stay put. Go to the E.R. if it happens again. I also don't think his 12 hour shifts are helping him much. He is almost 64, and although he thinks he is 44, his age and his losses are starting to wear on him.

He is the only parent I got left, and I would kind of like him around for a while. So at this point, I will just pray that it is not his time to go. Hope he listens to all of our advice, and makes it in to the Dr. on Monday.


I really tried to start the weekend on a positive note. I really did. I rolled out of bed, and went to pilates. Not limber, stiff. It was a hard class for me today. Cold and wet out. Went to store, picked up a few things,home.

Still overcast, chilly, drizzling.

Took a fast bath, rounded up the young-uns and headed south to a rodeo. I love a good rodeo, and this was a high school rodeo, even better. However, cold out. Brrrr...... portable heaters made the event tolerable for this yankee turned soft. (Portable heaters!!) I did bring it up to Dear Husband that a few years ago in Nebraska I would have considered a 49 degree day, "a nice spring day". T-shirt weather even. Not any longer. I have gone soft folks. I will never be able to tolerate a "winter" again. So I swiped Dear Husbands coat, and kept the babies close for heat.

It has been a while since I have been to a rodeo. Even longer since I have been to a high school rodeo. We got to stay for most of the calf roping. A great event to watch. Dash enjoyed it particulary, although he was concerned about the calves. I did forget that rodeo, is such a singular sport. All attention is really on one person. That really is a lot of pressure, but boy when someone makes something look effortless they really are impressive.

The young women got to rope goats. The goats, not soooo happy. The goats were smaller than the calves, easier to handle but I think the feistiness made up for size. Noisy creatures goats. I forgot how noisy the damn things are, even though the neighbors had about 15 of the damn things and listened to them for a few years until the goats were replaced by llamas. One of those girls. tied a darn goat in I think about 8 seconds. She really was the most impressive of all. She made it look like she could do it all day. Wasn't worried about her hair, or if her shirt came untucked, she had her game face on, and was ready to play.

Dash, was the loudest, and the most enthusiastic cheerleader of the day. Almost announcing play by play the entire rodeo. "Here they come, and there goes a lasso, ohhhh and they misssed it AGAIN". "Sorry buckaroo!"

Pink Ninja is 2, so she was on the move. I gave chasing Pink Ninja duty to Dear Husband, since he thought rodeo was a good idea for her. She was on the move for the entire time.

Dear Husband did bring up that I might be a goodle calf roper, since I handle "the collective" day in and day out. I think he may be right, heck I don't even need the horse or the hat.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

If I Were Emma Peel.....

I would tell blogger to "stick it".

(Blogger is phucked up right now)

My Goodness My Guinness

Guinness Ice Cream
~makes 1 quart
/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
1 cup whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
2/3 cup Guinness stout
2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons molasses
4 egg yolks
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1. In a medium saucepan, scrape in the vanilla bean seeds. Add the pod, milk, and cream. Bring to a boil over medium heat. Turn off the heat, cover the pan, and let the flavors infuse for 30 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan over medium-high heat, whisk together the stout and molasses. Bring to a boil and turn off heat.

3. In a large mixing bowl, whisk the yolks, sugar, and vanilla extract. Whisk in a few tablespoons of the hot cream mixture, then slowly whisk in another 1/4 cup of the cream. Add the remaining cream in a steady stream, whisking constantly. Pour the mixture back into the saucepan.

4. Stir the beer mixture into the cream mixture. Cook the custard over medium heat, stirring often with a wooden spoon, for 6 to 8 minutes or until the custard thickens enough to coat the back of the spoon.

5. Strain the mixture into a bowl and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or overnight. Process the custard in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Chocolate and Guinness Brownies Recipe

Fudgy brownies have more butter and chocolate, less flour and no leavening.

Usually the chocolate and butter are melted together, then mixed with remaining ingredients. Mixing is usually done by hand.

With cake style brownies they have the sugar and butter creamed together, with the remaining ingredients added to the batter.

Chocolate and Guinness Brownies
4 eggs

3/4 C. superfine sugar

8 oz. bittersweet chocolate, chopped

4 oz. white chocolate, chopped

6 T. unsalted butter

3/4 C. all-purpose flour

3/4 C. cocoa

1 1/4 C. Guinness stout

Confectioners' sugar for dusting

Preheat the oven to 375° F. Butter an 8-inch-square pan.

In an electric mixer, combine the eggs and sugar. Beat until light and fluffy.

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt the bittersweet chocolate, white chocolate and butter, stirring until smooth. Remove from heat and beat into the egg mixture.

Sift the flour and cocoa together and beat into the chocolate mixture. Whisk in the Guinness.

Pour into the pan and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until a skewer inserted in the center comes out almost clean. Remove from the oven and let cool on a wire rack.

To serve, dust the cake with confectioners' sugar and cut into squares.

Serves 8 to 10.

Ted Kooser Poet Laureate

All about Ted Kooser

What once was meant to be a statement—
a dripping dagger held in the fist
of a shuddering heart—is now just a bruise
on a bony old shoulder, the spot
where vanity once punched him hard
and the ache lingered on. He looks like
someone you had to reckon with,
strong as a stallion, fast and ornery,
but on this chilly morning, as he walks
between the tables at a yard sale
with the sleeves of his tight black T-shirt
rolled up to show us who he was,
he is only another old man, picking up
broken tools and putting them back,
his heart gone soft and blue with stories.
—from Delights & Shadows

Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.
Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies
like a snowflake falling on water. Below us,
some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death,
snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn
back into the little system of his care.
All night, the cities, like shimmering novas,
tug with bright streets at lonely lights l
ike his.

—from Flying at Night

Are you talkin to me?

Ok Harvey, first you send me the meme, and I answer it truthfully. I put myself out there, I do. But then to be called "a nag". I mean really, of all things, a nag?

"Which got me thinking... Beloved Wife TNT of Smiling Dynamite does NOT nag.
She does, however, "remind".
And pretty much every time she does, I find myself getting irritated.
And I have no idea why."

Wives unite!!

Welcome Home

Run over to Household 6, leave a note. "Monday, March 13, 2006
Happy Days, He's home!

I woke this morning with a knot in my gut and the wired feeling of an 80’s Wall Street trader high as a kite. He is coming home….he’s coming home…he’s coming home, kept rolling through my mind. I called into the boss, gave her my notice that I wouldn’t be there and started to get things done."

~enjoy, him, and tell him thank you.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

20 Questions

BlogGrampy Harvey asks me the tough questions.

1) Two favorite colors.
~chocolate, and cream

2) Two least favorite colors.
~navy blue, and maroon

3) Favorite fast food restaurant.
~Godfathers pizza, and there is not one anywhere near here.

4) Favorite day of the week.
~depends if Dear Husband is stateside or not. If he is home I
LOVE the weekend, if he is gone I HATE the weekend.

5) Least favorite day of the week.
~see #4, oh and Mondays, Monday just do not work for me.

6) Best thing about your significant other.
~He is brilliant, and funny

~7)Least favorite thing about your significant other.
~he procrastinates, and is irritated with my "reminders".

8) Your significant other's favorite thing about you (without
asking them).
~I am a good Mom

9) Your significant other's least favorite thing about you
(again, without asking them).
~"reminding" him he has procrastinated.

10) Black or white?
~black of course.

11) Red or blue?
~red, I am from Nebraska ya know

12) Day or night?
~oh come on people, if you want to know just ask.

13) Favorite part of your body
~my forearms

14) Least favorite part about your body.
~my upperarms and my "tummy" it is a toss up

15) Do you like walking in the rain at times?
~only if I do not have to show up anywhere looking a mess.

16) Do you have a tattoo?

17) “Short and sweet” or “long and hard”.
~ha, you are trying to trick me aren't you?

18) Favorite kind of car.
~ One that is paid for.

19) Favorite kind of ice cream.
~home cranked ice cream, made with real cream, with little arms
churning saying "am I done yet, my arm is tired?"

20) Trix or Lucky Charms.
~trix, loathe marshmellows, and the creepy little Irish guy.

OK now the fun part tagging 3 people with this darn thing

Donnaville- who I adore

Smiling Dynamite-who gets out of these things all of the time, and who could totally beat me arm wrestling.

Silent Warrior- because you really need to go over and take a look at the awesome pictures he has found.

That reminds me......

I got tagged by Oddybobo
1. Choose a search engine (e.g. Google), click "Images".
2. Pick 5 random blogfriends.
3. Think of a word or phrase that you feel describes each friend.
4. Do an image search of that word or phrase.
5. Pick an image that makes you say, "Aha! That's it!"

OK, here goes.


One Happy Dog


Keep My Soldier Safe

Straight White Guy

Never trust a lady with clown pictures on the wall with your money.

When I began this blog, I really wanted it to be a place I
could come and vent my frustrations. Then I decided against
it, because most of the time people are my frustration. It is
not nice to talk about others.
However this week, has really made me think about beginning a
new segment called "people in Arkansas that impede progress".
The list could go on for days I PROMISE.
yesterday, I had a couple of errands to run, and had some
questions re: State taxes. So I stopped into the "State of
Arkansas Revenue" office.
So I sit down, and find an entire office, decorated strangely.
I mean just plain old weird. TONS of personal pictures, no
not just 5-10, like 100 photos of family on walls, on shelves,
EVERYWHERE, little "When God made grandma's", "Mom means love"
plaques, all over. The kicker here is, then this lady had
these weird crying clown pictures all over the place. I
haven't seen one of these since probably 1975 in a Wolworths
or in someone's home. (I swear I recall seeing these awful
things mounted on a "friend of the family" wall as a child)
Anyway the things are creepy, no way around it.

Anyway, so I am sitting in this weird office, waiting my turn
with the nice lady. I mean she has gotta be nice, she is
sitting here in her "home-office". The only thing missing, is
a crocheted afghan thrown over a chair.
I wait my turn, and am listening to the conversation between
"good ole Grandma" and another client. I am sensing that
Grandma, just doesn't get the questions. She is not answering
the ladies questions at all. Grandma is rude.
My turn, I ask my questions about the taxes. I get the "YOU
Evil Grandma That Likes Clowns Lady: "This is the State
Revenue Department, we don't take payments, we only assess.
We have nothing to do with taxes." SIGH-EYEROLL....
She was just rude, plain and simple. I wanted to tell her
that I thought her office was ridiculous. I really did, I
also wanted to tell her that she was rude, and that contrary
to what the State of Arkansas thinks "if you set an office up
to assess taxes, you ought to be able to pay them in the same
We left, and as I am loading the kids up in the truck I see
Grandma waddle out to her bench to enjoy a smoke and her
gallon glass of ice tea.
Getting things done down here is the shits.
Oh and for the record, I would never choose to do financial dealings in an office with CLOWN pictures on the wall.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

If I Were Emma Peel.....

Steed would be loving my legs, enjoying his cocktail, and loving the shoulder rub.

Now that was a party....

Ok, so my blog sister, Boudicca --- oh I mean my Aunt. Damn blog family tree. Anyway she has posted 2 blog entries this week regarding parties she has attended. 2 parties. Yes, Mrs. I am a chip clip in my hair wearing "Mom". 2 parties. One in which go-go dancers made an appearance. The other party is full of very "enhanced" busty ladies. OK, what gives Bou? I mean between the scouts, t-ball, working, packing lunches and job? OK. I am jealous. REALLY. If my husband read your blog regularly, he would become fast friends with you. Seriously. Go-Go dancers at a party?

Geesh, the last party I went to, was a "Southern Living" party down the block. We passed around stoneware, and oooo'd and awwww'd over stemware. I wore a sweater set and my pearls. There was no one dancing, shaking of junk, no enhanced boobs. Heck not a drop of wine to be seen. I even ordered a plate rack for Gods sake.

So what gives Bou? Please I seriously would like to attend "one of these" wing-dings. What does a gal in the burbs gotta do these days? Oh and if I can't come, at least extend Dear Husband an invitation.


This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Peeing outside is for dogs and cats.

yesterday I spent the morning making travel plans for The Mil-blogging Conference. For some reason it took longer than normal, I did not use my usual airline due to cost etc. So anyway I was on the phone forever. My time spent on the phone did not sit well with "The Collective", so we went to the park for the rest of the afternoon.

The park, is great. They have walking and biking trails, lots of equipment. There is one problem right now. They are installing "new" restrooms, so the only place to go is a port o potty. ICK. Me inside a port a potty with 2 toddlers. A tight fit and gross.

So Dash announces the need to relieve himself, and I am walking him to the port o potty. I keep walking, and am holding Pink Ninja's hand. I turn around and note Dash standing by a puddle of mud peeing.

For Gods sake, Pink Ninja and I are standing horrified. I immediately scan the entire park, for a crowd. No one is at the park today. It had rained the night before, so all of the fair-weather Moms, and children are at home.

Thank GOD. It was actually horrifying. Then I had to have the discussion about hygiene, pee, public, private, grossness, appropriate places. The entire discussion was lost on him I think.

Dash then brings it to my attention that he sees "dogs peeing at the park" all of the time, he also brings up that "birds pooped on the truck", so why can't he go outside too?

"Because humans do not go outside. We are not animals."

Off To Pilates

Be back later, damn.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Review of THE UNIT

Ok, Hook says: "I’ve watched the second of three episodes of CBS’s new series, The Unit, which premiers tomorrow night at 2100 hours Eastern Time (9:00 pm zoomies) 0400 zulu. This is going to be an outstanding show filled with action and emotion both from the soldiers and their families."

Blackfive says: "Scott Foley of "Felicity" has a key role as the new guy, fresh out of the Delta training pipeline. I saw exactly one episode of "Felicity" and pretty much thought of any character played by Foley as lame...that is until he stalked and stabbed his first terrorist in the neck. Very nice."

Mr. Blackfive, I mean really Felicity, you sat through an entire episode of Felicity? And we are supposed to take you seriously?

I missed the damn show. So who knows.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

American Soldier Injured..

Blogger, and Soldier American Soldier injured by IED. Please go over and offer words of support, and a prayer.

Drunken Wisdom, sober driving.

Company at Casa De Dust Thursday. THAT ONE GUY, graced us with his presence, on his way cross country. The good news is, he showed up sans bloody nose, which meant NO fight club. The bad news, well we were a drive thru visit. A lunch and a chat, and damn he had to hit the road. So That One Guy, AWTM, Pink Ninja, and Dash load up into "the truwk" and hit the road. I talked him into a trip cross the river over to Whole Hog, for a platter o meat at The Whole Hog Cafe....delicious!

Back at Casa De Dust, I let That One Guy check his mail, his blog for a moment. "The Collective" managed to "show out: while he was here. Dash, showing his "hey watch this" skills, and Pink Ninja adopting him as an Uncle.

Dear Husband, even managed to make it home from work earlier than normal. So, Dear Husband got to meet his first blogger. Impressions were favorable. They both have bikes, and talked "roads to ride".

So I hope he felt welcome here, and stops thru again.

Here is the deal, if I can "not mop" before you show up, and eat BBQ with my hands in front of ya, you are good people in my book.

Next time bring the bike!

I will leave the light on!

what works?

Ok, Spray-n-Wash does work.

Everybody's working for the weekend~ (Terrible Loverboy reference)


First off let me say this.

"Secret" brand deodorant, is not strong enough for a man, and made for a woman." ICk.

With that said, I will let you know how the Casa De Dust managed yesterday. We spent the morning and part of the afternoon raking. Dear Husband did do most of it, but I hung on until lunch. So 38 bags of leaves later. ((Still have front and side lawn left) Ick, blech. Dear Husband also managed to power wash the grill for me. It is that time of year where almost all of the cooking will be done out of doors.

Spring? Huh, I think we had a week of it. Summer is here already. Muggy, humid, ick, already. Trying not to turn on the air conditioner. Ick sticky. 83 degrees, and HUMID. Blech. I did manage to make a plate of sandwiches, and a pitcher of lemonade yesterday. We had the first family picnic of the season. I also managed to wash bed linens in the afternoon. We celebrated all finished work with a dinner out, and the monthly "re-stocking" trip.

Today, Dear Husband is taking Dash fishing, to a little fishing hole down the way, I am taking Pink Ninja shoppping. YEAH. A girl and boy day. We are going summer clothes shopping for "the collective". I also must stop by Home Depot and get a case of air filters. I keep forgetting the damn things and am out.

There is a lot of work that remains, the garage is currently a mess, I have about 4,000 square feet of flowers beds that need weeding, azaleas that need fertilizing, a crape myrtle that requires trimming. 8 planters, that need fresh dirt, and some sort of low maintenance and bright arrangements.......

I guess nice weather means "work" around here....

Saturday, March 11, 2006

You can take "The Hundred" and stick it OR reason #130 I hate pilates

1. Lie with your back flat on the floor, shoulders down. Point your feet and lengthen your body, leading the stretch with the top of your head.

2. Keeping your back flat on the floor, raise both your legs and head off the floor. Be sure to keep your neck neutral and chin tucked.

3. Keeping arms extended, begin to lift and lower them about two inches from the floor, breathing in on the lift and out on the lower.

4. Do this for 5 up-and-down beats. Repeat 10 times until you have done a "hundred."

I got out of bed this morning and felt all wrong. My body ached, and I felt like I slept on a gravel road. Woke with the beginnings of a migraine. Crap.

So I woke, ran a brush through my hair, drank a cup of coffee, and headed to pilates class.

Late by 2 minutes, so they were starting without me. I missed the warmup, and stretching which was KEY this morning.

Can you say OUCH. OUCH.

My normally very limber self was tight this morning. Just not good. Could hardly get into a forward bend.

I stuck it out, for the entire class. Even though I had to be behind an obvious "runner" in class. Me, the curvey girl next to 2% body fat lady. That really did wonders for me this morning.

So I made it through class, I did. I also made it through with the shittiest of attitudes. I came home and ate a HUGE breakfast prepared by Dear Husband.

Friday, March 10, 2006

The King of Smartassery is .......

Harvey, over at Bad Example for this!! Just you wait Mr., paybacks are hell!

Although the cheesecake on a stick is a great idea.


Well, it seems today is a pretty busy day in the blogosphere.

My Blog-Momma is celebrating her 2 year blog anniversary. She is also on the search for a new carrer!!! Say a prayer for her, and give her a lead if you know if anything. Tammi, is like the Momma of the blogosphere, she is the cooker, the caller, the checker upper. She is like the fuzziest of all fleece blankets.

Bou, who is my blog-sister is celebrating one year at mu-nu!! I have only met Bou once, but have read her enough to feel like I really know her. I do not know how she makes every day funny. She does she makes everyday at her home funny.

So ladies, I will raise my coffee cup to you this morning. Cheers, and here is to another year!

Sometimes, truth is stranger than fiction

Today is the final day of my "year blogversary". Yes, I realize I have been milking this thing for an entire week. I will note here that I could not let today pass without reflecting back on "THE FUNERAL".

For those who did not get in on "THE FUNERAL", the first time, I hope you get a good laugh. It is by far the funniest thing that happened all year.


Part 2: "THE PHONE"

Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

What happened to my ass?

I have been tightening up my exercise routine. Which I hate, but really darlings a girl has to do something. Becoming pregnant after the age of 30 with "The Collective", combined with my age and my love of food is dangerous.

So I have had to step things up a notch. Why? I am the only person I know that has probably gained weight after the holidays. Even with an exercise regime.

I have returned to my Pilates class. I hate the damn class too. It is hard. Too much to think about. "Keep your tummy in." (Is that even possible?) "Keep your hips stacked". "Movement is from the hips". "Breath in from the nose, and out from the mouth". "Keep your pilates stance". I mean ick, it is sooo much to think about. Not to mention it is hard. Just plain old fashioned hard.

So, now I have regular yoga, pilates, and yolattes. Am I seeing results? NO. Do I feel results, yes. Am I vain enough, that feeling better is not enough? Yes. I am completely American there. I want RESULTS now. I want my "tummy" back, or my ass, something, anything. I want to be able to stand in front of a mirror sideways, and not have a heart attack.

I seriously know I would be seeing faster benitfit, if I could stand to do cardio. The problem is I HATE CARDIO. Hate cardio. I hate running, I am terrible at it. The only way to get me to run, might be someone chasing me. Or a cheesecake on a stick, heck I might run if someone paid me too. (There is an idea, I must talk to DH about that).

This mornings yoga instructor was the usual "pilates" instructor. She reminds me a bit of Denise Austin, but a little more hyper. She is what we would call in the Midwest a "go-getter". However, I am not such a "go-getter" in the morning. I find her enthusiasm in the mornings to be inspirational, and annoying all at once.

Anyway, I am not seeing results as fast as I would want, so I may have to give in to the cardio Gods, and either start walking (seriously), or bike. Those are my only 2 options. I will not stairmaster, treadmill, eliptical machine, or run. I just will not. The payoff would be great, but I do not like feeling like I am going to puke.

Ick. Oh the other change I am food after 7pm. None. I am allowing myself popcorn one night of the week with a movie, otherwise I need to stay away from food in the evening. (Unless by chance we have date night, which does not happen often) Oh how I will miss my night snacking.


Tuesday, March 07, 2006

If I Were Emma Peel.....

I would be dancing to this!

Last Year About This TIme

This is where I was last year about this time.

<Satisfy My Soul

I am still feeling "separate" from Dear Husband. 18 months of different day to day existence can do this. So I stand on the outside now and try and imagine his life.

He is a "rules" kind of guy, he doesn't tell, and I don't ask.

The other day we were in the truck on the way to the bookstore and I asked....."Does it feel weird driving your truck?" I got a small glimpse into his head. He said. " I still don't like driving under the overpasses and over bridges. Random garbage on the shoulders makes me edgey." That small glimpse was enough for me that day. I haven't asked another question. Maybe later.

That first night alone the hotel....When the children finally fell asleep. I clung to him and cried. I am not a big crier-try not to be anyway. Reunion is frightening, and you feel lucky, blessed, cheated, alone, and guilty. You want to hear "the story" that proves you have every right to feel lucky and blessed, but you don't want to hear it.

So you lie on a bed in a dimly lit hotel room, and you watch your babies sleep in peace. You put your head on your husbands chest, and you hear his heart beating, and you can smell him for the first time in months, and you can feel his hands on your back, and you cry as quietly as you can.

For the Rest, Go HERE

Monday, March 06, 2006

My One Year Adventure In Blogging~Part 2

I have decided to link some of my posts from a year ago this week. I need to take a look back, just for me. I will tell you this, my spelling and punctuation have not improved at all. I also thought looking back at old posts may help some of you figure out, why I blog so lightly and do not take myself very seriously. Life is too short sometimes.

My second blog post.

Cross my Heart and Hope to Die

Ok, the chocolate Jesus head was one thing. Really I could not bear to eat a chocolate Jesus. So I continue my search.

I find this....
I really think this is about the worst thing a person could devour. I mean really, nothing says NOT DELICIOUS like Jesus hanging on the cross.

sacrilegious, and not delicious.....

but there is more, you can buy a mold to make your own chocolate candy crucifix, soap, or candle. I do not know if it is such a good idea to wash ones hands with a crucifix shaped soap either. Or light a crucifix candle, only to watch it melt......

Sunday, March 05, 2006

My One Year Adventure In Blogging

ArmyWifeToddlerMom will be 1 as of March 7th. That means my Dear Husband has been home for a year. The time has flown. A lot to think about this week, a lot of inventory to take. I still have not asked many questions about his 18 months in Iraq, he has not offered much. My blog has not followed my original intent. I seriously thought my blog would contain more introspective content, about being reunited, and what that is like. I have offered some bits and pieces, but "IT" is so big. War is big, duty to ones country is big, love is big, being a Daddy is big, and being a wife is big. I have found myself at a loss of appropriate words to express my feelings most of the time. The story of my life, and what happens sometimes can not be put into words.

I know I am lucky he is home and healthy, my children are beautiful, and healthy. I know I am blessed.

There are so many moments to share, and they are fleeting. The moments go so fast that I cannot catch them with words. Dear Husbands arrival home after work, when the children hear the garage door, and run to meet Daddy with hugs. When Pink Ninja is mad at me for telling her "no", and goes to her Dad to cry. Watching Dear Husband in the back yard, playing with them and hearing giggles.

I guess this "milestone" could not have arrived at a better time, it is Spring here. My phlox, daffodils, and hycyinths are in bloom. Dash and I took a walk round the house this evening, and found a dandelion in full bloom. Dash, thought it was another beautiful flower and I saw it as a pest needing to be pulled out of the ground roots and all.

So Spring is here.

Time to pull some weeds, or leave them alone..

Here is my first post

If I Were Emma Peel.....

I would have ordered in, instead of eating leftovers tonight.

Ok, finally....

The Yahoo launch, is finally "straightening up"....and I forgot how much I liked this song.....
Ghost In You
Psychedelic Furs

Ghost in You

A man in my shoes runs a light and
All the papers lied tonight
But falling over you
Is the news of the day
Angels fall like rain
And love, love,love
Is all of heaven away

Inside you the time moves
And she don't fade
The ghost in you
She don't fade
Inside you the time moves
And she don't fade

A race is on, I'm on your side and
Here in you my engines die I'm
In a mood for you
Or running away
Stars come down in you
And love, love, love
You can't give it away

Inside you the time moves
And she don't fade
The ghost in you
She don't fade
Inside you the time moves
And she don't fade

Don't you go
It makes no sense when
All your talk and supermen just
Take away the time
And get in the way
Ain't it just like rain?
And love, love, love
Is only heaven away

Inside you the time moves
And she don't fade
The ghost in you
She don't fade

Inside you the time moves
And she don't fade
The ghost in you
She don't fade

Inside you the time moves
And she don't fade
The ghost in you
She don't fade

Thanks 100 records for putting this up

MY Yahoo Launch thinks I am gay, old, or sporting a mullet.

My yahoo launch thinks I am a homosexual male partying it up at studio 54, in 1978 with Andy Warhol. They keep choosing songs by Gloria Gainer, and Donna Summer back to back.

Yahoo Launch also thinks, I am living in a nursing home, and tries to throw in some Andrews Sisters.

Oh, perhaps the worst part of yahoo launch, they think I am male, and it is 1982 and I need some jamming tunes to play, while driving around in my Trans-am.

I think my Yahoo Launch is broke.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Immaculate Confection

I need to start preparing the children for the coming Easter Holiday, and started thinking about what I could fit in the baskets, other than candy.

-sidewalk chalk
-play doh

Until I ran across this. Nothing says Easter, or "I love Jesus" like a chocolate Jesus head.

Maybe we will stick with the traditional chocolate bunny this year. After all, biting the ears off of a chocolate bunny is simply tradition. Biting the ears off of a chocolate Jesus is plain old creepy, and may ensure a fast ticket to hell in an Easter Basket.


Two days ago, I took "the collective" to the park, it was a gorgeous 75 degrees here. The children were having a blast climbing and running , I was approached by a photographer from the paper here in town. She wanted to take pictures of the children, for the paper. So we talk a bit, and the photographer climbs on top of equipment, trying to get a decent photo of Pink Ninja and Dash.

Dash doesn't like having his picture taken these days, and particulary doesn't like a stranger doing it. So he kept running and hiding from her while calling her "intruder". Dash kept putting his hand up, looking like one of the "celebrity" shots in the National Enquirer.

The Packrat and her Bedfellows.

The Pink Ninja is still in her crib, and will remain so, until she seems ready for a toddler bed. I think she likes the safety of her crib, she never climbs out, although she is able. However, there is a small glitch. The interesting part of this? Well she used to take a baby or two to bed. Then she would sleep. Then she needed an extra doll or two. She began requesting other stuffed animals. So currently there are more "babies" and "animals", than can be found in some underdeveloped countries. I mean honestly, there is little room for Pink Ninja in her crib at night.

However, last week she started taking my rolling pin to bed with her. Yes, that is what I typed a rolling pin. A rolling pin. Last week, we used the rolling pin to make play doh cookies, and cakes. Now she insists she sleep with the damn thing. A rolling pin for Gods sake. She also doesn't just lay it in the crib beside her, she is snuggling up to it.

All of those sweet baby dolls, snuggly animals and she chooses a wooden rolling pin.

Perhaps it is something she picked up at "Ninja Training Camp", It could be a weapon, who knows.

Friday, March 03, 2006

Position of The Week #14

~Bound Warrior

The air and the earth interpenetrated in the warm gusts
of spring; the soil was full of sunlight, and the sunlight full
of red dust. The air one breathed was saturated with
earthy smells, and the grass under foot
had a reflection of the blue sky in it.
- Willa Cather

Allergies, Schmallergies.....

If I have to pay a Doctor another dime this week, I will scream.

After a visit to the Pediatrician yesterday, "The Collective", have been diagnosed with seasonal allergies. Which means a healthy dose of zyrtec before bed every night. (This should be no surprise, we did this last year.)

Pink Ninja has turned into the kid with the forever running nose. I am chasing her with Kleenex about 50% of the day. She looks neglected, with this icky snot dripping down. It is hard to accept smoochy kisses, when snot accompanies them.

Dash, not so much the drippy nose, his voice sounds as if it is reverberation through his skull, he sneezes, and has dark circles under his eyes. Oh, and he napped yesterday. SURPRISE.

So along with the beauty of watching the Bradford Pear trees in blossom, looking like someone dipped the branches in popcorn, and the bright yellow forsythia blooming like the sun, comes tired and drippy kids.

Spring has arrived. Time for Spring cleaning, long days at the park, digging in the dirt, taking the kids fishing, and giving them a teaspoon of zyrtec before bed.

And Kleenex, lots of Kleenex. Not simply to wipe noses, but for Mom too, they are not babies this Spring.

A Must Read

Go over and visit Sean, wish him well, and include him in your prayers.

Sean writes~

"War isn't easy, specially for the us who have to fight it, but the military isn't a democracy. We go where we're told to go and try to do the best job we can. I still stand by the idea that pulling out quickly would be a bad idea."

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Overheard at Casa De Dust

(whilst cleaning toilet)

Pink Ninja: "Mommy you like cleaning pottys?"

Winters End

For Winters rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
~Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837–1909)

We had gorgeous skies here yesterday, bright blue, with a smattering of puffy bright white clouds. The birds singing to one another, and my wind chimes welcoming spring with its music. Dash and Pink Ninja, playing in the dirt, the sun shining on my face.

I am not sure what it is about days like this, but I felt good, and melancholy all at the same time. My mind drifted from riding my bike when I was 5 up and down the tree-lined streets with no worries, to working in the garden with my Parents. The smell of the dirt, and goldenrod. The smell of earth, reminded me of those I have buried in the Spring.

Maybe, it was the was the way the wind was blowing. We rarely have a windy day here, and yesterday it blew my hair into my face.

It must have been the wind, because I was not alone.

Dream a Little Dream

I am catching up on my reading this morning, and stumble across this.

Richmond, has a dream about me?

A clean dream at that!

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Snips and snails and puppy dog tails

I am still under the weather here at Casa De Dust(thanks to the good folks at Smallgreens).

"The Collective", are suffering from seasonal allergies. They are both taking zyrtec. My cabinets are beginning to look like a pharmacy, blah....

So I wake this morning with them, and I let them know I am ill, and that today they needed to be especially useful.

Dash goes to his room, I assume to play trains, but he comes out with 2 pillows and 4 blankets and covers me up on the couch. He then gets his Thomas The Tank Yearbook, and sits right next to me reading quietly.

Dash is full of surprises.